Chapter 2
Draco knew perfectly well where he was going, and he knew perfectly well that he wasn't going anywhere towards any alcohol.
He was leading Harry down a deserted corridor and he wasn't exactly sure why.

After he felt that he had walked enough to suit his fancy, Draco sat down against the cool, stone wall and folded his arms, preparing to enjoy Harry's presumably confused reaction.
He wasn't disappointed.

Harry stopped mid-stride to give Draco a skeptical look. "Malfoy?" he asked, uncertain. Shrugging, he sat down jovially down next to the blonde.

Draco was startled but hid it well, having experience in hiding his emotions before. He smiled and turned to face Harry. Before now, he had felt tipsy, but now he was alert.

"Do you want to play a game?" Draco asked.

"I LOVE GAMES!" The drunken Gryffindor shouted gleefully.

"How about we ask each other some question?"

Harry thought about it, then nodded his head. "Sure. Do you want to ask me?"
"I asked you if I wanted to play the game, didn't I?" Draco drawled with a smirk. "I'm sure you can come up with something, right, Potter?"

"Fine then," Harry snapped before biting his lower lip and looking too damn cute for Draco's liking."What was the worst..." he paused, finding a way to phrase his question properly. "ailment... that you've ever had?"

"Well," Draco began, cocking his head to one side and scrunching his face up in concentration. Several moments later, he frowned. "I'm sure you already know, Potter, as it's your fault."

At this, Harry looked utterly confused. "Well, go on, then," he encouraged.

Draco sighed, as if he didn't want to admit that anything could ail him. Especially something as stupid as a hippogriff.

"It was back in the third year, when that bloody overgrown chicken attacked me in Care of Magical Creatures," he paused to look at Harry, to make sure his story was being well-received. "You remember that, don't you, Potter?"

After a scoff and a drunken nod, Draco was off again.

"You pranced around on that... thing-"

"Hippogriff."

"Whatever," scoffed Draco, rolling his eyes. Really, he was surprised that they were getting on this well. "The point is that I was attacked by a gigantic animal. And even though Madam Pomfrey could mend my arm, it still hurt."

Draco closed his eyes and caressed his arm, as if the memories brought him actual pain.

"I thought," Harry started, his face full of confusion, "I thought that you just made up all of that crap so Buckbeak would be executed."
"Oh yeah," Draco recalled with a grin. "That was kind of funny."

Harry snorted his response, too drunk to start an argument.

"It did hurt for several days. And the physical pain was nothing like the emotional trauma that followed. A giant bird preferred you to me? Something didn't like me? And, of course, it was absolutely terrifying to have something that powerful take a stab at me – what?" Draco had stopped due to tiny giggles that had been escaping Harry's lips for the past several seconds.

"No, no. Please, go on," Harry said, turning his amused expression into a serious one.

"Were you laughing at me?" asked Draco incredulously.

"Is that your question?" Harry shot back.

"No!" Draco quickly clarified. "Of course not!" He paused for a moment, in thought.