Off to a Bad Start

“Malfoy.” Harry grumbles out, arms crossed.
“Potter.” Draco mumbles softly.
It had been five years since the war, five years since Harry mailed Draco back his wand, five
years since the end of Voldemort. So much had changed, yet they still shared the same, intense disdain for each other, driven by god knows what. The only reason either of them were within a twenty-meter proximity of each other without ripping each others throats out was because of Hermoine.
“Come on you two, be civil! Shake hands and be over with it.” Barked Hermonie, like a mother scolding her kids. Draco is the first to do so, hand out for Harry to shake, which Harry reluctantly shakes before following Hermione and the rest into the pub. The whole group was there for their weekly catch-up.
Almost all the group had grown up and gotten jobs, Neville had started as an assistant to Professor Sprout, Luna as an Unspeakable, Hermoine in the Ministry in the department of Muggle Relations and Ron as a professionally unemployed person. Harry liked to call himself a private detective because he basically was, well for the Ministry. Harry wasn’t sure what exactly Malfoy did, but he was sure it was shady.
Harry takes a seat next to Luna, she’d always been a comfort to him, somehow always finding the most bizarre, right thing to say.
“Oh, hello Harry! How have you been?” Luna asks, giving Harry a soft pat on the shoulder.
“Oh, same old, same old.” Harry wafts, his eyes constantly darting between Luna and Malfoy, who is currently talking animatedly with Hermoine about some book nerd stuff.
“Harry, he was a kid, same as you.” Luna says, almost sensing his thoughts.
“Yeah, but difference is, I was saving the world, and he was trying to fucking end it-.”
Before Harry could continue, Ron shot up out of his seat.
“Who wants drinks?” The lanky red-head shouts, the table murmuring in agreement.
I need a beer, Harry thought, his eyebrows creased together in frustration, getting up to help Ron grab the drinks.
“‘Arry! Whatchu’ want, all the drinks are on me tonight!” Ron exclaims, patting the shorter man on the back.
“A beer- Actually vodka.”
“Woah- You sure? Your not exactly a strong drinker.” Ron raises an eyebrow, knowing his best friend will end up black out drunk by the end.
“Just- Get me it please…” Harry pleads, pinching the bridge of his nose, as Ron nods, ordering everyone's drinks.
“‘Ere you go mate, please don’t puke on me.” Ron winces, knowing Harry Potter and alcohol do not mix.
Harry rolls his eyes, taking a sip of his vodka, his face contorting.
Ugh, he thinks, as he downs the drink down.

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Harry shouldn’t have had that vodka and those shots, all 5 of them, as he was now swaying around on the pub dance floor looking like a drunken fool. Neville was trying not to laugh in a corner, Ron and Hermione too deep in each other's company and smooching to notice. Luna is of course nowhere to be found.
Harry spots Malfoy out of the corner of his eye, and decides to stomp over to him. Alcohol seemed to only amplify his stupidest traits, his stupid Gryffindor bravery and stubbornness.
“Malfoy, how the bloody fuck did you even get invited?” Harry says bluntly, glaring at the pale blonde.
“An invitation, obviously. Something people send to friends.” Malfoy replies sarcastically. “Aren’t you too drunk to be here anyway, go home before you make an utter buffoon of yourself.”
Harry’s face goes red, embarrassed and offended.
“Oh, piss off Malfoy, worry about something else, like I don’t know, that fuckin’ Death Eater mark on your bloody arm? There’re bigger things.” Harry spits out, his drunken temper getting the best of him.
Luckily, they were at a Muggle bar, so people just thought he was speaking drunken gibberish, but Malfoy went pale, and Hermione ran to Harry, with the rest of the group looking shocked.
“Harry! Go bloody home- Your drunk and stupid, go think about what you just said!” Hermione shouts at him, as Harry storms off, somehow apparating safely to his apartment.
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