Draco
TW bars, alcohol, food, drugs, pills, cigarettes
It was Friday, and of course Draco was closing again. He didn't quite mind that much since Sally and Fab were closing with him: 11PM-5AM. It was one of those nights where no manager would be on the premises, so the bartenders on duty would usually conduct the more difficult closing duties. Draco had lasted until slightly past midnight without drinking that night, but he so desperately needed a shot when one customer yelled for a solid ten minutes at all the staff because his cheese fries hadn't been prepared in under five minutes.
Draco was already on his second shot and third beer, and holy shit, the pub was busy. He and his coworkers had not had time for a simple bathroom break since the cheese fry incident. He checked his watch again and groaned when he saw the hour hand slowly ebb just past the "2." He made another few margaritas and rejoiced for the end of Happy Hour. Leaning against the counter, he watched as Fab took orders of cheese fries and beer. He was so grateful for her and Sally.
One year and three months ago, Draco moved to his apartment complex. He had almost nothing except for enough money for two months' rent, his wand, and the clothes and several pill bottles that fit into a small backpack he bought from ASDA. After signing the contract and receiving his key, he treaded up the stairs to the second floor. His apartment was 2B, and it looked and smelled like tweakers had lived there the past few months.
He walked in, closed and locked the door, and checked the place out. It was completely unfurnished except for the bar stools in the kitchen. After observing the small place that he would call home, he converted the small area in the living room connected to the bathroom by a door frame with a broken door into a chimney for the floo network. His parole required that he be connected to it.
Draco set his backpack down and walked into his so-called bedroom. With no mattress, pillow, nor blanket, he lay down on the itchy carpet. Draco didn't remember much after that, but he did remember being awaken at some time in the afternoon by an extremely loud bulldozer and construction crew. He sat up and wiped his face. After realizing where he was, he took a few pills and lit up a cigarette.
He jumped at the loud knock on his door. He walked to it briskly and opened it to a very skinny, very angry-looking dark man. He scrunched up his face and sneered in confusion when the man began yelling at him in Spanish.
"Soy su vecino. Si le gustaría vivir aquí, NO puede hacer mucho ruido o dejar la basura o—"
He was cut off by a short Indian girl with half-shaved dark brown hair, skinny jeans, a blue hoodie, and purple socks, "¡Ay! Gonzalo, cállese. Nadie quiere escucharle. ¡Déjalo ahora, por favor!" The man, Gonzalo, groaned and threw up his arms before moving back inside the apartment next to Draco's.
"Thank you," the blond said.
She replied, "No problem. He doesn't mean harm; he's just grumpy and hates it when things are out of order. He and his wife moved here from the Dominican Republic in the '70s. She died a few years ago, so he's, y'know, been alone…"
"Oh. Do you uh…" he cleared his throat, "do you speak Spanish?"
"Oh, no. My, uh, roommate taught me. She's Haitian, but she knows a few languages. My name's Sally, by the way." Draco offered his hand.
"I'm Draco. Draco Malfoy."
She was slightly taken aback, but accepted his hand and said, "I'm Sally Gala. How are you liking your apartment?"
"It's…. all right." Draco hesitated. "I haven't really been here a while."
"I understand. Well, Draco, if you need anything, I'm right across the hall, okay?"
Draco often remembered that moment. He didn't get the job or meet Fab for another month, but they occasionally spoke and banded against Gonzalo.
"Oi, Draco! Two Pimms and Lemonade. And cut that spacey thing out; we're still busy," Sally announced to him. He glanced at her a few times while he made the drinks. Her hair was loose, and her bright pink bangs covered her left eye. A bead of sweat was making its way down her forehead as she took orders, handed out beers, and collected bills. He went back to concentrating on the drink orders.
"3:30—time to close!" Sally informed Draco while grinning.
"Who's announcing it tonight?" He asked.
"Rock, paper, scissors?"
Draco bit his lip and held out his fist. Sally glared at him and held out hers.
"One," She said.
"Two," Draco said.
"Three," they said together, "Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!" Sally laughed as she looked at Draco's continued fist.
She asked, "Why do you always do rock even though you know you're gonna lose? You're so predictable!"
He groaned and replied, "Fine. Whatever. I'll switch next time." Sally smirked, and Draco stood on top of a bar stool behind the counter. He announced, "Everyone! Attention, everyone! We are officially closing tonight; everyone needs to have their bills paid and be out of here in fifteen minutes!" He got down from the stool and turned to Sally. In a hushed voice, he said, "Great. Now I'm everyone's least favorite bartender."
"Stop fucking throwing the rock, and you won't have to do this every night." She smiled and punched his arm in a playful way.
Draco grabbed some cleaning supplies and made his way out to the main lobby. He smiled to himself. It wasn't that he didn't mind playing rock every night, but he just didn't understand the game. It was Sally who taught it to him (his excuse for not knowing was that he had went to French boarding schools his entire life where the game simply didn't exist), and it was also Sally who swore that it was a logic game. "Something has to beat something else and in turn be beaten by something else," She would claim. Yet, that didn't make sense to him because there is no way that paper could annihilate rock. It just wasn't possible! He continued to think about the game and Sally while he wiped down tables and swept for the next hour and a half.
At 5AM, Draco, Sally, and Fab were extremely tired and more than ready to leave. Draco had had another shot to steady himself out around 4:30—one of the only benefits of this job was the (limited) free drinks. He and the girls walked home. He could see Sally watching him out of the corner of her eye; she was concerned and watching for signs of inebriety. He had previously tried to inform her that he rarely felt alcohol until he'd had at least 5 shots and a few other drinks. That only seemed to worry her more, so he dropped it.
Fab spoke up, "Do you all think that we're going to be closing every night for the rest of our lives?"
Sally brushed her fingers through her girlfriend's afro and smiled sadly. "I personally hope that we're not going to spend the rest of our lives in bloody Moss Side. I don't know about you two, but I have different goals." Draco shrugged. It was a shitty life, true. He hadn't even had a mattress to sleep on for months, true. And the apartment complex had a new infestation of bed bugs in it every year, also true. Yet he still liked it there: it had its own personality, and he'd finally grown to calling it "home." He cleared his throat.
"Yeah," he said. They all had yet to talk about their families or childhoods in great detail, so he wasn't going to mention that he somehow enjoyed a mattress on the floor more than a grand bed with silk sheets and a million pillows. Maybe it was the mentality behind it, he silently argued.
"How many did we serve tonight?" Fab asked.
"130," Sally replied. Fab and Draco groaned.
"Is that even bloody normal for a mug—" he stopped himself. He continued, "mucky pub like ours."
"It was a Friday, and there was some sort of football game on the telly. It brings our 'best' customers out." Sally said. Draco did not understand these muggles. What was the point of having a ball game where you couldn't touch the ball with your hands? More leg-related injuries? Dirty uniforms?
The three of them grew quiet as they reached their apartment complex. Noise was something that bothered Gonzalo more than anything, especially after 9PM and before 7AM. They said their goodbyes and went in their respective doors. Draco went to the kitchen to grab a few Triscuit crackers and an Ambien. He set his alarm to 3PM and lay down on the mattress. He had work that night at 11PM.
