𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐇

Chapter 44

“So do we want to get drunk or do we want friendly chat?” Harry asked as the pair walked down the main street of Hogsmeade.

Malfoy raised his brows. “Drunk, I think,” he said in a tone that implied that friendly chat with Harry was nothing he would ever want to indulge in.

“Fine.” Harry led the way to the Hogshead. As always, the filthy place was almost empty; three goblins sat in one corner conferring in Gobbledegook, another pair of nefarious looking characters, cloaked and hooded despite the roaring fire, muttered out of the corner of their mouths to each other.

“Pleasant place,” Malfoy remarked as they went to a table as far away as possible from the shady occupants. “Merlin, Potter – look at the size of those cobwebs. Doesn’t the barman ever clean this place?” His mouth turned downwards in disgust as he fastidiously brushed dust from his cloak, then cast a quick cleaning charm over the table and chair before seating himself.

As he spoke, the aforementioned barman came over, giving him an unfriendly glare. “You don’t like my pub, you can piss off,” he growled.

“Aberforth, this is Draco Malfoy,” Harry said with a grin, knowing that Aberforth Dumbledore’s bark was worse than his bite.

“Yeah, I know who he is.” Aberforth sniffed. “So, I suppose, as you’re here, you want firewhiskey?”

Harry nodded. “I feel wrong getting drunk at the Broomsticks.”

“Don’t see why. You’re of age,” grumbled Aberforth. “And your bright, shining faces put off my regular customers.”

“We can leave if you want,” Malfoy said. “At least I won’t have to scourgify all my clothes after I leave the Broomsticks.”

“Shut up, Malfoy,” Harry snapped. “We’ll have a bottle please, Aberforth.”

Still grumbling, the innkeeper wandered off to get their drinks.

“So...” Harry leaned back in his chair, watching Malfoy as the Slytherin examined his surroundings nervously. “What made you want to teach?”

Malfoy’s pale eyes turned to him, and Harry knew, if Malfoy continued to look at him that way, he would begin to blush and never stop. “Small talk, Potter?” he sneered. “I thought we were getting drunk?”

Aberforth returned with two glasses and a full bottle of firewhiskey. Harry started to reach for his money but Aberforth waved it away. “Pay me when you’re done,” he growled before going back to his position behind the bar. Harry poured two large glasses and raised his own to Malfoy before sipping on the strong drink. Malfoy copied him, choking slightly as it hit the back of his throat. “Merlin, what is this stuff?” he asked, staring into his glass. “Dragon’s blood?”

“Not the best, but it gets the job done.” Harry smirked. “You didn’t answer my question.”

Malfoy sighed and cautiously sipped again. “Think about it, Potter. Ex-Death Eater – and, it doesn’t matter what really happened or how many times you tell it, but I’m still regarded as the killer of Dumbledore.” He shot a look at Aberforth, then back to Harry. “I’m not exactly overwhelmed with offers of work after school.”

“I didn’t think you’d need to work,” Harry said, surprised. “You have more money than Gringotts.”

“You watched that memory. Don’t you remember what I said to my father?” Malfoy replied softly.

Harry nodded, remembering that Malfoy had told Lucius that he didn’t want his money.

“Anyway, my options are limited. At least, at Hogwarts, the Professors know the truth. In a few years none of the kids there will know who I am. The war will... well, not be forgotten, but the memory will fade and I’ll just be some old Professor to be hated, just like Severus was.”