Harry
TW alcohol, drugs m, nightmares, insomnia
"Malfoy?" Harry inquired aloud.
"What'd you say, mate?" Ron asked him. The ginger was holding onto Hermione's hand as she led him through the bar.
"Oh, uh, nothing. I just thought I saw something," Harry replied. He checked for the head of white-blond hair but couldn't see anything else. Harry shrugged it off. Probably a doppelganger, he thought. Why would Malfoy be in a muggle bar anyways? And why would he be working there?
They found their seats, and Harry positioned himself as far away from Ginny as possible so that he wouldn't have to watch her kiss Luna. He wondered when he'd stop feeling so awkward, especially since he was the one to break up with her. Harry decided to do what he so often did: he shoved his emotions down and pretended they weren't there.
Harry's friends chatted, some of them already slightly tipsy. This was their third bar of the night, and Ginny was definitely crossing the line from "tipsy" to "drunk." No one seemed to mind except Ron, who had ordered her to get a water.
"Ron. Shut. The. Hic. Up. You can't boss me around. We're not kids anymore. So, whoever is going to order drinks for us, I will have a martini," Ginny barked. Her hiccups continued. She wasn't even slurring her words, but the blush that crept up on her face and neck was enough to convince everyone of her inebriation.
Ron rolled his eyes.
"I'll go," Neville volunteered. "Anyone wanna join me? There's no way I can carry everything."
"Oh, me!" Harry said, suddenly. He felt an odd bit of excitement about going up to the counter. He'd forgotten why until he looked back at the counter, barely catching Malfoy's eyes. He'd been staring at the group. "What's everyone getting?"
"Shot," Ron said.
"That's not very descriptive." Neville frowned. Harry giggled a bit to himself. He found out last year that Ron was a lightweight, but now he was assuming that no one else really knew about that.
"Fine," Ron grumbled. "A fireball. And a beer, please." He paused, thought over his answer, and finally replied, "A Blue Label."
"Alright, that's two fireballs," Neville claimed, implying that he'd also be doing a shot.
"Water," said Luna.
"Martini!" Ginny practically screamed.
"Two fireballs and a Blue Label," Dean informed them, ordering for Seamus as well.
"Hermione?" Neville asked.
She looked like she'd been staring at the counter too. She was still deep in thought.
"Um," she spoke up, "I'll have a martini as well."
Neville got up, leading Harry to the counter. Harry would have felt nervous about seeing and talking to Malfoy again, the first time since he'd given Malfoy's wand back after the war, but he was just a bit too tipsy to care. He walked into a stool at one of the nearby tables, and Neville grabbed his arm in order to steady him.
"Thanks, Nev," Harry said. Neville smiled; he knew that Harry only gave people nicknames like that when he was drunk. They continued their journey, which felt so long. Harry's mouth was feeling a bit dry. He suddenly remembered the night he visited the university. He thought of how dry the Dreamless Sleep Potion made his mouth, and he wondered if all types of drug-like stuff made him this way.
They finally reached the counter after what felt like forever.
"Hey, Malfoy," Harry slurred. "Fancy seeing you here."
Malfoy simply nodded curtly.
Neville winced at Harry's drunkenness. He informed the bartenders, "We'll have four shots of fireball, two Blue Labels, two martinis, and a water."
"Three martinis," Harry corrected.
Neville shot him a puzzled look. "One for Ginny and one for Hermione, right?"
"And one for me," Harry beamed. He turned back to Malfoy and his assistant. He whispered, "I'm trying to slow down." He giggled a bit and then blushed. Malfoy looked like he was trying to choose between barfing and laughing. Harry suddenly felt like an idiot. "Three…three martinis, please," He repeated.
"Okay, Xavier, would you like to make the shots or the martinis?" Malfoy asked his companion. The trainee, Xavier, was clearly nervous about this new task.
"I don't…I don't remember how to make a martini."
"Really?" Malfoy exclaimed, flabbergasted. "There are five ingredients, and one of them is ice." He rolled his eyes and continued, "I'll do the martinis. You can do the shots and beer." Malfoy put a bottle of water on the counter. His eyes darted between Harry and Neville as if he didn't know which one to address.
"Hey, if you're—" Harry broke the silence at the same time as Malfoy.
"Would you like the free nachos that are included with our happy hour? A purchase of three martinis merits a plate," Malfoy claimed.
"Um, free nachos? Fuck yeah!" Neville exclaimed. He clapped Harry on the back. Harry grinned in response.
The rest of the night flew by as Harry and his friends hopped from bar to bar. They had helped him move into his new apartment in Manchester a few days beforehand; nevertheless, they'd spent the week before university went in session assisting Harry in getting used to the new city.
His apartment wasn't much, and he really didn't need it to be. The University of Manchester required him to either live on-campus or near the school, but he still planned on spending as much time with Teddy and Andromeda as possible. He wasn't quite ready to completely live alone yet. There were times that, with his mental illness, he doubted he'd ever be able to. He hated thinking about that.
Harry's week just before classes began was dedicated to familiarizing himself with his apartment, Manchester, and the university. Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Luna, Dean, Seamus, and Neville helped Harry move some of his belongings to his newly remodeled flat, a modest one-bedroom near Victoria Park. They'd spent a few days doing some light partying, strangely joined by Hermione, and visiting some tourist attractions.
Harry's week just before classes began was dedicated to familiarizing himself with his apartment, Manchester, and the university. Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Luna, Dean, Seamus, and Neville helped Harry move some of his belongings to his newly remodeled flat, a modest one-bedroom near Victoria Park. They'd spent a few days doing some light partying, strangely joined by Hermione, and visiting some tourist attractions.
Harry had spent only part of his time thinking about Malfoy. He couldn't understand why he was in Manchester, instead of in Étretat with his mother Narcissa. He couldn't understand why he wasn't in London. He couldn't understand why he was in the damn muggle world, of all places. Harry hadn't spent a lot of time thinking about Malfoy, no—at least that's what he'd kept telling himself. He was done obsessing with things. He'd promised Ron and Hermione and his therapist and everyone else that he was done with his little obsessions. Besides, university was more important than Malfoy, whom Harry would very likely never see again.
His first day of classes were interesting, to say the least. He had somehow managed to not get lost. Introduction to Islam was almost definitely going to be Harry's favorite course—he was sure of it! He took notes on the class directory and the syllabus, and he even managed to ask the professor a few questions during class. The textbook didn't even appear to be that bulky and boring. On the other hand, he wasn't so sure that he'd enjoy Introduction to the Study of Religions and Theology. According to the directory, the majority of their class wouldn't actually be about religion but rather how to approach studying religion. It seemed to be more like a philosophy class than anything.
Harry took a few melatonin in an attempt to replace his Ambien. He was going to have a long day tomorrow since he planned on apparating back to Andromeda's and cooking dinner. He lay down on his new bed. It was still strange to him. He used to sleep in a cupboard. He used to sleep in Dudley's extra room. He used in sleep at Hogwarts or Grimmauld Place or the Weasley's or Andromeda's. He'd stayed in so many homes, but after a while they were all taken away. He wondered if that was another symptom of his mental illnesses. He resolved to ask his therapist at his next appointment.
Harry knew when he'd had the second nightmare that he'd sleep through his first alarm. He knew when he woke up and paced around his flat for an hour or two that he'd sleep through his second alarm. He did not know, however, that he'd sleep through every alarm except for the one he set up to sound just ten minutes before class began. He had no clue how he'd slept in until nearly 2PM, but here he was, trying to figure out exactly what to do. He decided to skip his usual coffee and cigarette, instead simply dressing, fetching his books, and apparating to the class's building. He left the dark corridor and jogged to his classroom.
When he finally got there, he felt overwhelmed. It was obvious this was a class that most of the first-years in the College of Arts, Languages, and Cultures took as a default. Despite there being nearly two hundred seats, almost all of them were full. Harry chose a seat closest to the door. When he sat down, oblivious to his immediate surroundings, Harry heard someone clear their throat. He looked to his left and found himself sitting next to Malfoy.
Harry stood up right as the professor announced, "Hello, class! Please take your seats. We will begin now." Harry sat back down and placed his bag at his feet. How did he have such rotten luck? Of course he would pick the one university that Malfoy had picked. Of course he would choose the same college that Malfoy had chosen. Of course he would go to the same bar that Malfoy was working at. Of course he'd picked that particular night to get shite-faced. Harry groaned and set his head down on the desk. He immediately realized what he'd done and snapped his head back up. Several people looked at him. Malfoy, on the other hand, decided to give Harry one of his infamous sneers. Harry rolled his eyes. He resolved to simply ignore Malfoy. Even if it didn't work in the past, it had to work now. They were both different people than they were then, right?
Harry's plan worked for the first half of the lecture. It felt like the longest hour of his life, but it only got more nerve-racking when Harry sniffed the air and caught a whiff of his own BO. Oh, my god. I forgot deodorant. Oh my god oh my god. Day number two, and I already do something that labels me as the "weird kid," Harry thought. He stopped sniffing his own t-shirt when he thought again about how strange he probably looked. He chanced a quick glance at Malfoy, who was attentively staring at the professor and his own copy of the syllabus only.
Harry's eyes darted down to what Malfoy was wearing. It was similar to what he wore the night at the bar: skinny jeans, a black t-shirt, a black jacket, and converses. He never thought he'd see Malfoy wearing muggle clothes. Malfoy suddenly glanced over, obviously aware of Harry's staring. Harry looked down in shame. He felt a blush creeping on his face. He didn't look up again until class ended. Malfoy stood up in a rush, collected his things, and nearly ran out the door. Harry continued sitting at his desk, still extremely confused.