Rebuilding the Impossible Room, Chapter 3
Harry took another shot of Ogden's. Malfoy's lips were such a pretty pink color. Harry almost told him so, but thought better of it. Then realized what he was thinking, and mentally slapped himself. Ah well, he had always been a bit bicurious while drunk. He doubted most were picky while their system was sated with alcohol.
Wait– What? No, it's Malfoy. Stop it Harry, he told himself
"So, Potter. D'you think you're good to walk?" Malfoy drawled.
"Definitely," Harry said, with false bravado. They had settled on the Hog's Head, as it was easier to keep a low profile there. Malfoy complained about the grime until Aberforth told him to shut it, and leave if he wasn't ordering anything. Malfoy had promptly ordered 3 shots for both him and Harry. They had just finished their fourth.
"In that case, a finger of Morgan's Mahogany-Matured Mead. Each," Malfoy called to Aberforth.
"In fact, a finger for Aberforth himself, and he'd do well to come join us."
"Yer crazy, Potter," he growled, but his eyes held the familiar twinkle. "Ah, sod it, got nothing better ta do." The bar was empty less a couple of hags in the corner and a known pickpocket.
Aberforth poured three small glasses and levitated them over, then opened the bar to come join them. "One finger, then it'll be back to business fer me. Merlin, if Albus could see you now. Getting drunk with Malfoy. He'd join you and celebrate this union of Gryffindor and Slytherin."
"We're out of school, now. You do know that?" Malfoy said, gesturing with his glass. "And do you even know basic cleaning charms?"
Aberforth snarled. "I'll show you a cleaning charm!" Aberforth whipped out his wand, but Harry was quicker.
"Expelliamus!" Harry said quickly. Aberforth's wand shot out of his hand. "Nothing personal, Abe. Just don't want Hogwarts to have to find a new Potions Master one day before term."
"They made this git Potions Master?" Aberforth asked incredulously, gesturing towards Harry to give back his wand. "Unbelievable. Did you pay them off?"
"Oh, shove it up your ass," Malfoy laughed drunkenly. "Anyway," Malfoy eyed Aberforth's wand, which was now back in his hand, "we'll be out of your hair, dumble-number-two." Draco slurred the words so 'Dumble' and 'number' rhymed.
"Bottle of Ogden's and this Morgan's stuff, as well," Harry told Aberforth, who looked murderous. Dumbledore stood to tower over them.
He gave them a sour, grumpy look and they pulled out their money bags.
"10 galleons ought to cover it, right?" Malfoy called to Aberforth.
Aberforth's earlier grumpiness subsided a bit. "Suppose so."
Harry and Draco finished their fingers of mead and grabbed the bottles from the counter. They discovered, however, that they were too drunk to walk straight. They draped an arm around each other's shoulders.
Draco thought briefly, that it was incredibley comfortable to be pressed up against Harry Potter. But Potter wasn't gay, and Draco didn't think of him like that. At least, he hoped not. It would certainly complicate being his colleague.
Malfoy's warm breath tickled Harry's face. He immediately cast a large heating charm around them, melting some of the snow.
"So, Potter. As far as setting you up. What are your preferences? Blondes or brunettes? Or redheads, apparently?"
Harry groaned. "This again?"
"Yes. Just get it over with, Potter. Pick yourself up from the drunken haze. Find yourself a new girl, mate."
"No redheads."
"Ah, I see. Weaselette left you scarred for life, then?"
Harry laughed. "Maybe. She had nice red hair though. I'm not sure other red hair could compare to it." For a moment, Harry looked wistful. "Too bad she's a huge bitch, though."
Malfoy nodded fervently. "So, that leaves you with blondes or brunettes?"
Harry thought for a moment. He looked at Malfoy's hair. It was very nice.
"Blondes, I guess, but I don't care much."
"Pansy's out then," Draco said, grinning.
"Trust me, Malfoy, she was out far before the blonde versus brunette question."
They both laughed, wandering up the Hosmeade Main Street.
Harry's inebriated mind was struck by inspiration. "Malfoy, you said you're good at cleaning charms, yeah?"
"I'm excellent," Draco slurred. He had opened the new bottle of mead.
"That you are," Harry laughed. "I know a good place to go."
"Oh, Potter," Draco put on a faux-sultry expression. "You're not taking me back to your private rooms, are you?"
"Don't be stupid, we're too pissed to go back to the castle. McGonagall would fry us alive." Harry lead them up a curved an narrow path, through a small thicket of trees.
"The Shrieking Shack?" Malfoy asked incredulously. "Don't tell me you actually expect us to go inside?"
Harry rolled his eyes impatiently. The wintry wind had sobered him slightly. "It's safe. No one's been here in ages."
Harry brandished his wand, and blew off the front door. He strode inside and started sending cleaning charms at every corner, gesturing for Malfoy to help. To Malfoy's credit, he was a great help despite his state. He only broke two objects, a couple chairs. And quickly fixed them, swearing.
Next, was the Transfiguration. Harry spelled the walls into a soothing shade of maroon, and Malfoy had a 'tch' sound.
Malfoy made silver accents around the room, and transfigured the chairs into squashy armchairs, made of handsome dark leather.
They even managed to fix the chimney into something which would allow a safe fire. It took them about a half hour, but it was fun work.
"I'm too sober," Draco said at the end.
Potter just grinned at him. "I guess I could drink a bit more."
They finished off the mead, sitting opposite each other on an armchair which had been stretched into a sofa.
"So, why blondes?" Malfoy asked, trying not to sound too curious.
"Why all the questions?"
Draco wondered if he could pull off an impatient tone. He wasn't sure his tongue would allow it. "Because, Potter. I told you, we've got to find you a girl." Draco poked Harry in the stomach with a toe. Harry wasn't even sure when Malfoy had taken his shoes off.
"Don't you think it's stupid, us still calling each other by surname?"
"Stop trying to change the subject, Harry," Malfoy said smoothly.
"How're you even functioning? You have, like three shots on me and–"
Draco cut Harry off, "I said, stop interrupting."
Potter huffed.
"Blondes, hmm," Draco said. "I'm blonde. But I don't suppose you play for my team, yes," Draco covered his earlier stupid outburst.
"On just give in, Draco. It's impossible to date anyone who's not a friend already. They just gape at my scar, like idiots."
"Well, your blonde friends include me, Looney, that Fleur girl," Malfoy listed off.
"How'd you know about Fleur?"
"Fourth cousins," Malfoy said dismissively.
"I knew you had Veela blood," Harry exclaimed.
"Yes, Pot- I mean, Harry, my charm is inhuman."
"Well, not that, but maybe your hair color. I'm still surprised you don't dye it." And not sure if I believe you, Harry added in his head. Malfoy's hair was lighter than even Fleur's, and was nearer to white than blonde.
Draco gave him an annoyed look. "All," he put a great emphasis on the word, "of my hair is blonde, Potter. Feel free to check, if you'd like." Draco laughed. Harry blushed furiously.
"Thanks for the offer, Draco, but I'll pass this time. I believe you," Harry spluttered. A very drunk Malfoy was flirting with him, possibly? Perhaps Malfoy was always like this while he was drunk. That didn't matter much, though, what mattered was that Harry was enjoying it.
"Alright, I'll take the rain check."
Harry gave him a stupid grin, and reached for the bottle.
"You know, I like you," Draco said, and Harry gave him an incredulous look. "No, not like that," he said hurriedly. "I'm just having a Gryffindor moment, nothing romantic."
Did Harry feel... disappointed? No, that wasn't the right word, exactly.
"I know McGonagall wants us to rebuild the room." Draco didn't have to specify, they both knew what it meant. "Thank you, Harry. For saving my life. I owe it to you." Draco's voice was barely a whisper.
"Of course, Draco." It was painful for Harry to think back to those years. But he also couldn't pretend the better part of his life didn't exist. "I don't regret it."
Malfoy swallowed thickly.
They dawdled on the cough for a while, poking each other with their feet. It quickly became a tickle fight, which resulted in a mutual ceasefire. The two young wizards slumped into the couch, exhausted.
"It's been good, Harry," Draco said.
"I agree."
A/N: another chapter down! and a drinking scene. because all my stories are cliched. but hey, it's free and it's fanfic. so cliches are a given. I would be thrilled if any of you took the time to review! honestly, reviews warm my cold shriveled heart.
word count: 1,505
