Drarry Oneshots 2

Unspeakable Things

Top!Harry

Bottom!Draco

Summary: What happens when Harry has four shots too many and finds himself surrounded by Slytherins?

More drinks apparently.

Author: Ragazza_Guasto (on ao3)

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Electric blue flashed in the corner of Harry's eye and he snapped to attention. Oh, Merlin, she'd found them again. Harry was too drunk to maintain the disillusionment spell and she had that determined look in her eye, the one that said 'one of you is coming home with me and I don't even care who.' There was something to be said for liquid courage. Harry didn't know what the thing was but it should definitely be said. The liquids he'd imbibed were doing nothing for his courage; he turned tail and ran and felt absolutely nothing about leaving the rest of his friends to the woman's tender mercies.

The restroom was blessedly quiet, much better than the main room with its live band and its flashing lights and its occupants who had to scream to be heard. Harry worried his poor eardrums were going to throb for days after tonight. He could barely think straight. That was probably the whiskey's fault though. If Seamus hadn't asked after Harry's fourth shot he never would have come here. He probably shouldn't have had that fourth shot, full stop. He should have left at a sensible time of night like Ron and Hermione, just after dinner. Club scenes were definitely not his usual. It was possible he was too old for it. What a sad thought.

He finished up at the urinal and took his time washing, mostly to enjoy the respite. He glanced around, noticing someone had carved 'Voldemort Lives' into the wall. Classy. The poo pourri in the little dish on the counter smelled like lavender and lemon, something that should've smelled like kitchen cleaner but actually reminded him a bit of Luna.

There wasn't anything left to look at, so he reluctantly left the restroom, thinking perhaps he should just call it a night. Seamus could get bent, eleven o'clock was not too early! Just as he was making up his mind though, soft laughter spilled out of an open doorway to his left, a doorway he hadn't noticed earlier. The laughter was contagious, leading him forward without thought. When he stuck his head around the corner he realised the club had a back patio and was then immediately mad that no one had told him. It was much quieter outside! The space was cordoned off with a low brick wall covered in dense green ivy, a fire pit was built into the middle, surrounded by chairs, with only a few people sitting around it. He was quickly drawn towards its cosy flame and the intimate nature of the space. It wasn't until he sat down that Harry realised he was surrounded by Slytherins.

No sooner than he realised, a voice he hadn't heard in years rang out.

"Potter! Potter will know," he said to his companion. "Who was the Hufflepuff coach our third year? The Beaxbaton transfer, seventh year, blonde, loud for a French girl."

Harry was so thrown by the genial atmosphere, and also was still drunk enough, that he immediately answered, "Er, Colette something?"

Malfoy smacked his friend, who turned out to be Pansy Parkinson. "Colette Archambault! I knew I knew her name! So anyway, she ambushed me outside the breakroom today after our last meeting and finally got up the nerve to hit on me."

"Isn't she too old for you?" Greg Goyle asked with a scrunched nose.

Malfoy gave him a smile that said 'you poor idiot', but what he actually said was, "When we were thirteen, maybe."

"Oh, yeah."

"Not the point anyway, is it?" Parkinson asked. "She's barking up the wrong tree entirely."