[Draco's Viewpoint]
Draco Malfoy's sky-blue eyes flashed fire, as he swore, "Myrdd-" His voice stopped midstream, as he inwardly boxed his own ears. He let his mouth continue on autopilot (hoping he wouldn't say anything too damning-), while he mentally tried to sober up. Because, laid up against everything that he knew about liquor, and his own alcohol tolerance, he was clearly sloshed out of his mind. He had been about to swear - using Myrddin's own name, to a Muggle! It was true, it wasn't quite breaking the Statute of Secrecy - but it was a dangerous slip. Slytherins didn't tend to live long if they were prone to slipping. He had to be drunk - far, far drunker than he thought. He broke off his rant to stare at the dark-haired beauty who had the temerity to still be smiling, completely undaunted by his lecture! He felt his mouth tighten into a pert frown. **
[Hermione's Viewpoint]
The strawhaired lad boggled at her - and then swore, "Merde," He speaks French? she thought, Definitely from the continent. In fact, with the awkward way he wears his clothes - the almost blushing way he sits... Hermione had it in a flash, Chechen - he looks like that because he's used to wearing a lot more fabric. And not looking at ladies wearing so little as I am, either, though he covers that a bit better. Belatedly, Hermione tuned into the ongoing lecture about taking better care of her own life. She responded back with a smile, her fingers twisting a lock of her hair into an absentminded curl, "I wasn't recklessly risking my life, you know. I was betting - on you."
[Snape's Viewpoint]
Stepping into the quiet bar, Snape nearly stumbled on hearing Draco Malfoy's voice. His hand instinctively went to his hood, pulling it an inch or two over his prominent nose. Continuing as if towards the WC, Snape eyed the bar, with the elderly patrons. No party atmosphere, this. He thought, as he listened to Draco's lilting voice - because not only was Draco Malfoy currently in a Muggle bar, he was also drunk enough to not remember his accustomed accent. "You really ought to have more of a care for your life. You- you've got to have someone who cares about you - someone who would crack if you died. Even the slowest child knows not to do that! You can't just go around throwing things like that out at a veritable stranger, even if you were joking. It's not something to joke about." Snape risked a second glance at the person Draco was talking to - yet another person he didn't recognize. With his luck - and wasn't it always wyrd? That would be Miss Granger, wouldn't it? His sharp eyes took in her twisting, unconsciously, her hair into a curl - which looked decidedly out of place on her currently straightened locks. Oh, certainly, the chit had sounded like Granger - but that gesture? That was Granger. Snape smiled a knife-sharp smile, as he stepped into the WC.
**otherwise known as a pout or a moue
[a/n: Well. Snape's here. Any guesses as to what comes next? I personally like that neither Draco nor Granger listened to what the hell Malfoy was saying.
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