Title: Sixth Round at the Leaky
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 320
Notes/Warning: One curse word. Written for dramionedrabble at LiveJournal for Draco's birthday: June 5, 2009.
Draco had to admit to himself that he was the biggest arse ever known to exist. He knew that. He was a selfish bastard who always walked around like he owned the place. Technically, he did own half of the properties at Diagon Alley, but he knew he didn't have to be such a git about it and shove it in everyone's faces all the time.
But did he really deserve this? As much as he did not want to face the truth, he was alone and miserable in the sea of jolly, drunken men at the Leaky Cauldron. Draco thought that this was probably how a young Ron Weasley felt every Christmas: disappointed to find the stack of presents at the foot of his bed to be non-existent.
Fuck. No wonder he was sitting alone. He did deserve this. As much as thinking of a broken-hearted Weasley gave him a perverse sense of pleasure, he pushed the thoughts away. Karma was already biting him back in the arse.
He surveyed the other patrons in the pub and scowled. His ears were filled with the sound of clinking glasses and the hearty voices of men as they socialized after work. No one seemed to pay him any attention. He nudged his empty glass towards the bartender for another round.
"Sixth round, eh? You celebrating something, or what?" Tom asked inquisitively as he poured the amber liquid into the glass.
Draco almost snorted. He opened his mouth to reply, but someone behind him beat him to it.
"It's his birthday."
Draco's head snapped back, and he found himself staring at Hermione Granger with his mouth agape. Her robes were rumpled and her cheeks were flushed as if she practically ran to the pub to make sure she caught him before he left.
With a tiny smile she shyly added, "Not everyone forgot, Malfoy. Mind if I join you for a drink?"