"Yes, they're
sharing a drink they call loneliness, but it's better than drinking
alone."
-Billy Joel
Chapter 1
The rain pounded heavily on the roof of the bar, audible even over the screeching of the classic 80s station that accosted the ears of the patrons of "Mike's Bar." The lone line of bar stools was nearly empty as the old grandfather clock tolled five. Mike (also known as Michelle) was one of the few brave enough to open a Muggle-style bar in the midst of Hogsmeade. Although the Hog's Head was still in operation, its reputation for slightly shady characters had patrons wishing for a more welcoming and friendly spot to drink themselves to oblivion, hence the fairly recent opening of Mike's.
As the enchanted radio (compliments of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts branch of the Ministry) began to bop out the opening chords of the popular Wizarding hit, "Baby, You Know How to Ride My Broomstick", a cloaked figure entered the bar. His oddly colored hair identified him as a Malfoy, as did the pricey material of the pitch-black cloak. The figure sat at the end barstool, throwing off the hood of his cloak as he did so, revealing him to be Malfoy the younger, Draco. Mike, humming as she worked, set down the glass she was cleaning, and went to take her rich patron's order. She didn't hesitate as he ordered a Firewhisky, and an Appletini. Draco, an occasional client was an absolute mess of hypocrisy, but she didn't make it any of her business to judge her clients, especially the ones with generous tips.
Draco Malfoy was furious, although you wouldn't have been able to tell from his face. The Malfoy mask was still perfectly in place, although it was most definitely wavering slightly. 'How dare his father? After everything he had done? To call him, Draconius Apollo Lucius Malfoy, a coward! Why, it was practically blasphemy!' As he threw back the Firewhisky, he noticed another figure enter the bar, one that he could have recognized with his eyes closed. 'Of course Perfect Potter would feel the need to come in here when I'm in this state. Damn him.' Turning slightly in acknowledgement, he saw Potter order a beer, and approach him. Draco sat perfectly still in anticipation of the fight he was sure would begin shortly.
"Hello," Potter said cordially, taking the seat next to Draco. Draco, confused, turned back to his Appletini, taking a generous sip. This was bound to be one of his strangest experiences with the Boy-who-lived-to-infuriate-him ever.
