A/N: Title taken from the Netflix show with the same name, but no similarities between them. Also a line about pine wood that is reminiscent of Schmidt from New Girl. Merry Christmas/Happy holidays everyone, and I hope you enjoy this little oneshot!

Scorpius Malfoy's holiday thus far could be summed up in three words: single, unemployed, and uninspired.

Lackadaisical had never been a word used to describe him. Neither had sloppy, dimwitted, or soulless motherfuckering bastard who would be lucky to have his balls attached to him by end of day. But here he was, having been called all of those things (and quite a bit more) in the span of just three hours.

Oh, and fired. He was also most definitely fired.

He eyed a group of cheerful teenagers doing their Christmas shopping in distaste. The bright red ribbons, the holiday music, the glittery window displays—not for you, the decorations were saying. He just wanted to wallow in his misery for a bit, was that too much to ask for?

As he pushed through the crowds of Muggle London (admittedly rougher than necessary), he finally spotted a dingy bar that seemed to repel customers, based on how everyone was giving it a wide berth. Scorpius paused to examine it. The Tipsy Elf looked promising: dark lighting, no holiday cheer, a depressed air hanging about it. Normally, Scorpius would have never gone within 50 feet of such a place. His parents would disown him for even considering it. But desperate times, desperate measures.

The first step he took in the bar, Scorpius realized with horror, was… sticky. And filled with immediate regret. The damage this would do to his dragon leather shoes could be irreparable. Perhaps he should visit another establishment instead. Preferably one with cleaner floors and patrons that were less grimy. But everyone had already turned to look at him, probably wondering what someone with such impeccable taste in cashmere sweaters was doing in this… shack, was really the only word he could use to describe it.

"What'll you be having?" the bartender called out.

"What's your stiffest drink?" Scorpius responded without thinking. His answer seemed to resonate with the handful of other customers, and he noted with relief that they all turned back to their own drinks.

Except for one red-headed figure sitting alone at a table who, upon making eye contact with him, looked stunned and immediately fully turned so he couldn't see her face.

No fucking way was Rose fucking Weasley here in this miserable den. And no fucking was was she about to interrupt his pity party.

Scorpius stalked forward and grabbed her shoulder.

"Out," he said firmly. Rose looked up at him with wide eyes. "I need this place to myself."

Her jaw dropped open. "Excuse me?" she demanded. "You don't own the place, Malfoy. And I was here first, so don't you dare try to make me leave."

Scorpius closed his eyes momentarily to compose himself. "Weasley, I've had a very difficult day. As evidenced by my presence here." He gazed around the bar in disgust. Had he really stooped so low? Then again, an expensive glass of whiskey didn't seem quite appropriate for the situation. No, he needed something cheap and, well, lowbrow to help him sulk properly. "Whatever you're doing here, I can guarantee I am sadly in greater need of hopefully blacking out and forgetting this morning, and I can't do that in peace with you around."

She narrowed her eyes. "Wanna bet? My day was filled with—"
"You appear to be mistaken," he interrupted coolly. "I don't actually care why you're here."

He stared her down with thinly veiled impatience as she seethed. Before she could retort, the bartender called out.

"Look, I don't need any problems here, so deal with each other or I'll kick you both out. And you—" He nodded at Scorpius. "Your drink's ready."

Scorpius stared at the dirty glass on the counter, unable to withhold a grimace at the smudges on it.

"Aren't you going to take it?" The bartender stared at him.

"Of course." But he couldn't quite make himself reach for it. Eventually, he gingerly picked up the glass, trying to hold it with as few fingers as possible. "Thank you."

The bartender ignored the strained note in his voice, simply nodding at him.

Scorpius surveyed his seating options, which were rather limited. He could sit at the bar next to the old drunk, at a table next to a young couple currently so engrossed in one another it looked like one was about to swallow the other, or at the table next to Weasley's.

The man at the bar grinned at him with rotting teeth and bloodshot eyes. Scorpius winced. Rose it was.

After a careful examination of the seat, he sat down, making sure he wasn't in her direct eyesight. Now it was finally time for him to drink his sorrows away, as he'd been craving all morning. Except there was no way he could do it in this glass. He wasn't even sure what exactly he'd bought.

"For Merlin's sake, Malfoy, it isn't poisoned," Rose said in exasperation. "Marco cleans them with some Muggle dishwasher."

"I can see the dirt," he insisted before fully absorbing what she said. "Wait. Marco?"

"The bartender," she said, her voice clearly saying duh. "Honestly, Malfoy, do you not pay attention to the people around you? How many times do you have to come here before—"

"I don't come here. This is my first time," he interrupted. And hopefully his last time. Did she honestly think Scorpius Malfoy would frequent this hovel? Scorpius glanced down at his outfit and then back at his surroundings. No, there was no way anything this expensive belonged here. He may not have a job, but he did have taste, and damn it, he was proud of it!

Rose gaped for a moment before letting out a quiet "oh." Based on her defeated look, Scorpius figured he didn't need to vocalize his follow-up question. Maybe she did actually have it worse than him, he mused, slightly buoyed at the thought. Rose Weasley in a bar was one thing. Rose Weasley as a habitual customer in a trashy, off-the-grid Muggle bar was another.

"Why are you here then?" she asked, much more subdued.

"Bad day."

"Hm."

"What's that supposed to mean?" he said, irritated.

"In Hogwarts, when you were having a bad day, you would show off more than usual. You know, try to answer all the teacher's questions, flirt more, make more dangerous quidditch moves."

"And how would you know how I acted when I was annoyed?"

She smiled placidly. "You were always annoyed."

Scorpius said nothing save a small hmph. She was right, of course. His usual MO when something went wrong was to remind himself how great he actually was, whether that be through his intelligence, good looks, or athletic ability. Really, there was no shortage of options to pick from in that department.

"Consider this an exceptionally bad day then." He snatched up his drink for a large swig and promptly choked, just barely refraining from spewing it out completely. What in Salazar's name was the sludge he just drank?

Rose didn't seem to notice his reaction. "So what happened?"

"Pretty sure I just got fired."

"Why?" Merlin, she was nosy. And rather unsympathetic too, based on her tone.

Scorpius eyed her. "You first. Why is Rose Weasley here often enough to have her own designated spot?"

"I do not have a designated table." She scowled. He merely raised an eyebrow. She fiddled with her own drink for a long pause before responding.

"I quit my job." Her voice started out strong but wavered ever so slightly at the end. Scorpius was skeptical.

"Quit or fired?"

"Quit, thank you very much." She sniffed.

Scorpius tried to remember what she did. Something dull, that's all he knew for sure.

"Where did you work?"

"I was a scribe for the Undersecretary of the Wizengamot…'s assistant." At his surprised look, she became defensive. "The Ministry is hard to break into and it requires a lot of dedication at the bottom to work your way up."

Scorpius wasn't in the mood to hear about proper work ethic and hard work.

"Justify it however you want, but your family is too well-connected for you to be the assistant's assistant," he interrupted. "Who'd you piss off so badly to get that job?" Honestly, he probably was being generous even calling it a job. Glorified intern was probably a better word.

"No one!" she exclaimed indignantly. "You know, some of us actually want to have a job based on our own qualifications and not nepotism. I just—my parents had a lot of expectations. And I wanted some time to figure out what I wanted to do on my own without their help. Oh, don't make that face; I can tell you're judging me."

"I'm not judging you," he lied.

Idiot had been Scorpius's first thought about her righteous spiel. Most people would kill for her connections, and she was just throwing it away. His second thought was a touch more charitable. Wasn't he kind of doing the same thing as her? He could certainly understand wanting to separate his parents' actions from his own, though obviously her association with her family could only benefit her. He supposed some would call her actions respectable. Not him, of course, but he could see how it could be construed as such.

"So, what made you quit?" He took another cautious sip of his drink with a grimace. It was slightly better than his first taste.

"The multiple fuckwits working at the place." She scowled.

"Let me guess, of the white, old, and male variety?" The Wizengamot was not known for its diversity.

"What other kind is there? Anyway, my boss—"

"One of the aforementioned fuckwits?" he inquired.

"Yes, exactly," she confirmed and nodded. "He was just unbearable. Super pretentious, would always act like he knew better than everyone else, never listened to anything I had to say, and would treat me like his personal secretary when I wasn't."

"Oh." Scorpius could certainly relate to that. She gave him a sidelong look.

"It was Cooper Jabroni."

"Oh." Scorpius pulled a face. Jabroni had been a few years ahead of them in Hogwarts. From Rose's description, he unfortunately hadn't changed much since then.

"Right. Well, after he called me sweetheart for the hundredth time and owled me a dick pic, I threw my coffee in his face. And I quit."

"He sent that in the middle of the work day?"

She nodded grimly.

"Sounds satisfying at least. The coffee bit, that is."

"It was until I realized I was unemployed. And that was three weeks ago."

"You've been coming to this bar for the past three weeks?" Scorpius eyed her suspiciously. Because, yeah, he was here too, but out of desperation and hopefully for the last time.

"I couldn't tell anyone I'd quit. Albus thinks I'm still going to work, so I have to leave the apartment everyday," she said defensively. "I couldn't go into any Wizarding places in case my family saw me. They're everywhere; Muggle London is the only place I could escape them, and even then it's not a sure bet. I figured this place…" She trailed off, looking around their rundown surroundings.

Dear Salazar, he hoped he wasn't in her position three weeks from now. Being a regular in this place would truly be hitting a new low in his life.

They sat in a morose silence, punctured only by the snores of the old man who had fallen asleep at the bar.

"I was sleeping with my boss's girlfriend," Scorpius offered up.

Rose snorted. "Figures."

"I didn't know who she was, obviously," he said. "I just met her through some friends a few weeks ago. I found out she was already dating someone else last night. And my boss found out this morning."

She seemed taken aback by his sharp tone.

"Oh. Well, that… sucks," she said lamely. "What happened?"

"I went into the office this morning and found my boss and his girlfriend arguing. Then they saw me." Scorpius took a delicate sip of his drink that he didn't really want but felt he needed. "My boss did not take it well, to say the least."

"And he fired you for that? Even though it wasn't your fault?" Rose was apparently outraged on his behalf. What a turn of events.

"Well, he didn't exactly say so in those words, but I could read between the lines."

"What about his girlfriend? Did he at least break up with her since she caused this clusterfuck?" she demanded.

"I didn't wait to find out." Scorpius had left somewhere in between being cursed out and having a lamp thrown at him.

They fell quiet again.

"Were you, you know, in love?" Rose asked tentatively after a moment.

Scorpius snorted. An undignified response he would normally never do, but it felt appropriate here. Rose seemed to relax at his reaction.

"Weasley, do you honestly see me getting married or calling someone 'the One'?" He said derisively. "No, we weren't even officially dating, just casual. I'm more pissed about my job."

"Marriage doesn't seem like your style," she admitted. "Not yet, at least. Did you like your job?"

"Honestly, no." He sighed. His time at the potions-making company had been increasingly filled with finishing the paperwork required for each potion they produced and less of the experimenting and creativity Scorpius had wanted from the position when he first joined. This may have been the kick in the pants he needed to find a job that he enjoyed. Not that he would ever admit it.

"Not that I'm happy you're miserable, but it's kind of nice to know that I'm not the only one whose life isn't going well."

"Don't lie, you're practically smirking at my pain, Weasley. And do you think I would be in The Tipsy Elf if things were going well?" He pronounced Tipsy Elf as though it were actually called Merlin's left buttock or pine table. (Because what could be worse than a low-quality wood used in place of mahogany?)

"This is going to hurt in the morning," he muttered, but continued to drink. Sometime throughout the day, he had joined Rose at her table. Several rounds of drinks had been taken away by Marco—who Scorpius was considering making his best friend with how he kept the alcohol coming. After the third round, Rose had also loosened up in a way he'd never seen her at Hogwarts. Well, around him at least. Misery loves company, he supposed. And if her curls were a touch more tousled and her eyes a bit brighter than he remembered from Hogwarts—well, he wouldn't complain at having a beautiful drinking buddy.

"It's currently the morning," Rose pointed out. "But in the spirit of Christmas, I'll be nice just this once."

Scorpius squinted at the tiny handwritten words on the small vial she passed him.

"Hippogriff Cacao? Your handwriting obviously hasn't improved since Hogwarts."

"It says Hangover Cure, you dolt."

"You brewed this yourself?" As a rule, Scorpius didn't ingest anything that he didn't make himself or that wasn't professionally marketed (that he could then take legal action against if something went wrong).

"I'm a scribe for the Wizengamot. Given how detail-oriented you need to be for that, do you really think I'd mess this up?"

"Was a scribe," he reminded her. She rolled her eyes.

"Just take it an hour before you sleep and you should be fine when you wake up. Well, maybe not fine, but you won't have a hangover. I can't fix everything for you," she said with a slight smirk.

"Believe me, Weasley, you are the last person I would expect to be able to fix anything," he drawled.

Right after he left his (former) workplace yesterday, Scorpius didn't know what he'd be doing the next day instead of going into work. Maybe sleep in and have a nice breakfast before figuring out his next steps. Pounding on Rose Weasley's door was not what he expected though.

"Scorpius, you better be having a medical emergency right now, or else I'll make sure you have one. What the hell are you doing here?" Rose snapped, her eyes squinting and red curls all over the place.

"Why are you hungover? Didn't you take your own potion?" Scorpius suddenly panicked. Was he just a guinea pig for her experiments? What did he drink?

"Of course I did. I don't have a hangover but that doesn't change the fact that it's 7 am and I went to bed at 4:30. Why are you even up?" she demanded. He thrust the empty vial of hangover cure in her face.

"What is in this?" he demanded.

"If you're about to complain that it didn't work, I'll have you know that every single person who's taken it has—"

"That's just it," he cut her off, shaking his head. "It's the best hangover cure I've ever taken, and I've tried every one on the market. What's your base? The mandrake-ginger solution, right?"

Rose stared at him, blinking. "Um, yeah. But I modified it with some gillyweed, dittany—"

"Naturally," Scorpius murmured.

"And some powdered griffin claw."

"Perfect. We'll just have to adjust when you pick the gurdyroot so this can be ingested in the morning instead of at night, but otherwise I think this'll be perfect. And if we change the taste because that was truly revolting."

"Adjust it? What's wrong with it as it is?"

"People won't remember to take it before they go to sleep. Or they'll misjudge how much they actually drink and don't realize it until they actually have a hangover. If you can take it once the hangover actually sets in, we'll have a bestseller."

"Bestseller for what?" she said, still bewildered. "You want to… sell this?"

"You want a job, don't you? I'm guessing you didn't get much in the way of severance pay since you quit."

Rose chewed on her lip, a classic sign that he was right.

"Do you really want to face your family at Christmas to tell them you're unemployed? In front of your grandparents and all your cousins? And your mother?" Rose's eyes immediately turned panicked.

"Or," he continued in a gentler tone. "Would you rather tell them about how you'll be your own boss in the exciting new business you're starting with someone who's already an expert in the field?"

She dropped her head in her hands and groaned. Scorpius took that as a win.

"With my resources and connections in the potions world, this'll be a guaranteed success," he said smoothly, placing a hand on her back to guide her to the kitchen table.

Rose dropped down in a chair, looking both lost and resolved at once.

"Fuck it. What do I have to lose?" she muttered before turning back to Scorpius. "Are you really serious about this? You better not be screwing with me, Malfoy, or I swear…"

Scorpius raised his right hand, trying not to look too excited. "Salazar's honor."

Rose said something under her breath that he graciously chose to ignore, then raised her voice again. "We'll have some details to work out with a lawyer before we do this, but… I'm in."

"Malfoy-Weasley, Inc. is in business," he announced. "Have any champagne to celebrate?"

"No more drinking," she said firmly. "And why is your name first? It's my potion!"

"But I decided to market it." He sighed.

Not even two minutes in and they were already arguing. Merlin help them.

Scorpius Malfoy's holiday next year: co-owner of a lucrative potions company, back to his creative roots by designing new potions, and happily engaged to his business partner.