Chapter 6

Everyone knew that a night wasn't complete until a bar fight has occurred. It was nearing two in the morning and one still has not happened. The patrons of the Smoky Lounge wondered if it was one of those once in a lifetime instances that is quite obviously a sign of the apocalypse. As much as they would love to think so, however, they would be sadly disappointed as a bar fight surely occurred not long after that.

Draco was massively drunk at that time. He was at the point where he remembered nothing and knew nothing of what he was doing. He wasn't having a terrific night and in his drunkenness, he picked a fight with a guy that could have easily killed him and buried him six feet under.

"Fight, fight, fight, fight!" a throng of people chanted, forming a circle around Draco and the large muscled man he was fighting with.

Draco's mind was in a daze. He saw nothing and he didn't comprehend what was happening. All he knew was that he felt angry and that he was throwing punches and hitting someone or something. He didn't care. The alcohol level in his system prevented him from caring about anything. He barely felt the punches being thrown at him. He barely felt his own blood on his face. It was as if he was hanging in limbo, lost in the transient place of awake and asleep. It was divine, he decided. He felt nothing, thought nothing. He continued to throw punches.

"What the hell?!" Blaise screamed, watching Draco loll around, throwing weak punches and tripping over his own feet.

"Oh, my gosh," Daphne screamed as she, Pansy, and Astoria pushed through to the center, "Blaise, do something!"

"Like what?" Blaise demanded, watching Draco get punched in the gut.

"Something!" Pansy screeched. "He's going to get annihilated!"

Blaise put on a look of extreme discomfort. He didn't want to get his face bashed in because of Draco's idiocy. Why did he have to pick bar fights anyway? What was he doing so smashed anyway? Pansy, Daphne, and Astoria attempted to push Blaise into the fight but it was useless. He was too strong and he refused to be moved. He wasn't going to get himself maimed because of Draco's shenanigans! He'd like to keep his face intact, thank you very much.

"Come on, Blaise!" Astoria nagged. "You're acting like a ninny!"

"Who are you calling a ninny?" Blaise demanded.

"You!" Pansy shrieked. "Now go end this fight before Draco gets demolished!"

"Hey!"

The chanting stopped. The large muscled man looked over his shoulder. Blaise, Pansy, Daphne, and Astoria stopped arguing and turned their heads. Their eyes turned to a petite blonde who had her hands on her hips, scrutinizing the scene carefully. No one breathed a word as she walked surely toward the huge muscled man. The man had Draco by the shirt and looked down at her with curious eyes as she put her hand on his shoulder. She whispered a few things into the man's ear. After she pulled away, one of his eyebrows sketched upward. She gave him a quick smile. The man sighed and let go of Draco. He fell into a heap on the floor.

"Okay, Azalea, if you say so," the man said, ruffling his hair.

"Thank you, Don," Azalea smiled. "I owe you one."

Don shrugged and trudged out of the crowd without a word. Azalea watched him go pleasantly. Such a nice man, she thought. Her parents had been friends with his. She couldn't blame him for wanting to beat the living daylights out of Draco. She looked over to where he lay groaning on the ground. She saved that sad idiot? She rolled her eyes and looked out to the crowd staring at her interestedly.

"Well, what are you all gawking at?" she said to them loudly. "Go on! Clear off!!"

The crowd scattered slowly, muttering about how the entertainment was cut short. Azalea scowled at them all and her eyes landed on Draco's four useless friends.

"Well, don't just stand there," he told them, looking at Blaise in particular. "Help me with this git."

Blaise, content with the knowledge that his face was not going to get mutilated, hurried over and helped Draco onto a bar stool. Draco's face looked like an overripe and bruised pumpkin. Blaise grimaced as he took in his face. Azalea folded her arms over her chest and watched Dahlia walk up to her, staring at Draco's bashed in face. Azalea then proceeded to explain what happened.

"Damn, Malfoy," Blaise said, waving his hand in front of Draco's face. "You look like crap."

"You… l-look like crap," Draco drawled, barely able to keep himself upright. "Hey, y-your ties is c-crooked."

Blaise looked down at his shirt. "Bloody hell," he sighed. "I'm not wearing a tie, you git."

"He needs to go home," Astoria said, looking at Draco with concern. "Merlin knows what could happen to him here."

"You're right, Astoria," Pansy nodded. "Blaise, take Draco home."

"H-home," Draco hiccupped, "that's where I live."

Azalea and Dahlia exchanged glances. They were obviously thinking the same thing.

"I can't take him home," Blaise complained. "I'm already late to my own house! My parents will murder me if I stay out late any longer!"

"Well, someone has to take this lump home!" Daphne said as Draco hiccupped again.

"Wait a minute!" Blaise said and turned suddenly to Azalea who was watching Draco with repulsed disdain. "Azalea, you can take Draco home. After all, you two live in the same place."

"No!" a scream tore from Draco as he clutched Blaise's arm. "She'll k-kill m-me and feed me to a Hippogriff, she will."

Azalea watched him lean his head back and fall unconscious. Pansy, Daphne, and Astoria fussed over him, trying to get him back to the waking world. Blaise rolled his eyes and turned to Azalea pleadingly.

"Come on, Azalea," Blaise cajoled as Azalea raised an eyebrow at him. "Take pity on the miserable fool."

"Don't worry, Blaise," Azalea said, throwing the newly revived Draco an annoyed look. "He might be utterly disgusting and mental, but I'll get him home in one piece."

"Thanks, Azalea," Blaise beamed. "You're a life saver."

"But if he vomits on me, Zabini," Azalea said, giving Blaise a look as she helped Draco to his feet, "I'm killing you and feeding you to a Hippogriff."

"I h-hate Hippogriffs," Draco murmured.

Why am I doing this? Azalea asked herself as she hauled the barely conscious Draco Malfoy to the bathroom in his room. She could have easily just let him rot at the Smoky Lounge. It wouldn't have made a difference to her either way. So why exactly was she toting him into his lavatory and sitting him down on the floor in front of the toilet? Merlin, his face looked like chopped liver, she observed. He was black and blue all over. His right eye was swollen and blood dribbled down the side of his face from the cut on his forehead. The dirt and grime that had been transferred from the floor to his face during the fight didn't help his appearance at all.

Without warning, Draco pitched forward, launched his face into the toilet and vomited. Azalea watched with a disgusted face as retching sounds emanated from him. She sighed and rolled her eyes. She had better get some sort of compensation for this. Hesitantly, she grabbed a wash cloth and ran it under cold water as Draco lifted himself out of the toilet, wiping his mouth. Draco took his ragged eyes and stared at Azalea.

"Astoria," he muttered. "Astoria."

"I'm Azalea, you twit," Azalea snapped at him.

"Astoria…" he continued to blubber.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Azalea sighed, kneeling in front of him and began wiping away at the grime and dirt on his face. "You're insanely in love with Astoria. I know."

"You were with some bloke tonight, Astoria," Draco said, his eyes barely open, his voice barely audible.

"I told you, I'm Azalea," Azalea sighed. "Merlin, you must be smashed."

"You looked really happy, Astoria," Draco continued to say as Azalea sighed. "You were laughing and dancing with that bloke like there was no tomorrow. What made him so special? What did he have that I didn't?"

Azalea watched him closely as he relayed all sorts of feelings to her. Did Draco really fancy Astoria that much? He had given her hell for feeling things for Anton and now here he was pining away for someone that had no clue how he felt.

"I bet he's not as rich as me," he continued to say. "I bet… I bet he's not even as handsome. But he's got you, hasn't he? And that makes him a million times better than me in every way. I would have been good to you, Astoria, you know? I w-would have treated… treated you right, like a lady and stuff. But you don't want me, do you? I don't know why. I don't…"

"You're talking nonsense," Azalea told him quietly, getting up and throwing the wash cloth on the sink and getting some cotton balls and ointment.

"I bet you think I'm pathetic," Draco said, laughing tiredly.

Azalea looked over at him, watching him laugh drunkenly to himself. A bit, she admitted. But as a person who's been through something similar, she couldn't hold it against him.

"That's enough, Draco," Azalea said, kneeling in front of him again and tending to his bruises. "All you need is sleep, that's all."

"I hope you're happy, Astoria," he continued to drivel. "I really hope that… that you're happy with that one bloke you were with. That's all I want. I want for you to be happy, I want that, yes. You're a real wonderful, pretty, special girl, Astoria. You should b-be happy all the time. Happy even if it's not with me."

"Okay, Draco," Azalea sighed, stowing the medicinal tools and helping Draco to his feet. "Off to bed with you now."

"Is Astoria happy?" he asked as they trudged out of the lavatory.

"She's perfectly chipper," Azalea answered. "Don't you worry."

Azalea took him to his bed and peeled his leather blazer off of him. She threw it on a nearby chair and then pushed Draco down to a sitting position on his bed. Damn, she thought to herself. Since when did I baby sit this idiot? Why am I helping him into bed? Well, he was thoroughly pathetic. He was actually telling her his feelings about his beloved Astoria. He would commit suicide had he been sober and he knew what he just told Azalea.

Azalea was helping him out of his shoes when Draco cupped her chin and tilted her face up to look at him. He was just looking at her, his eyes barely open, staring absently.

"You're pretty, you know, Azalea," he said as Azalea sighed and continued to remove his shoes. "You're really quite gorgeous. You know, you deserve to be happy, too. Did you know that?"

"Okay, whatever," Azalea sighed, pushing him onto a lying position and throwing the covers on him. "Just go to bed and sleep it off."

She turned to leave the room but Draco grabbed her wrist. She turned back to him. He was looking at her intently as if he was all too serious about what he was prattling on about.

"He didn't deserve you, you know," Draco continued to say. "That Bulgarian bloke you went after. He didn't deserve you and you don't deserve someone that vile. You should look for someone better, someone who'll treat you like you're one of a kind. Because you are. Because you're pretty terrific, Azalea, you know? You shouldn't settle for some loser like that Bulgarian fellow. You're beautiful and witty and lovely and classy… You deserve more… You…"

Draco's grip on her wrist slipped as he faded from the waking world. His hand landed on the floor with a loud thump. Azalea watched his breathing even out as he slept. Curious, she thought. Did he really mean all that? Did he really think all those things about her? She watched him as he slept, astounded and amazed. Draco Malfoy thought she was terrific? Surely that was just the alcohol talking. Wasn't it?

She went over to him and placed his hand back onto the bed and replaced the covers on him. With a flick of her wand, the lights were doused and the room was plunged into darkness. She stood and watched him sleep. You could actually be pleasant, she thought, when you're drunk. She turned and walked out the door.