HARRY POTTER
The pub was alive with the sounds of clinking glasses and laughter as Draco and Orion sat in a corner booth, the remnants of their celebratory drinks scattered on the table. The successful mission had left them both in high spirits, untampered by the run in with Harry Potter. Orion hadn't noticed Draco was secretly nursing a sore spot on his arm from one of the more intense spell exchanges.
Orion leaned back in the booth, his shirt sleeves rolled up and his grin as wide as ever. “So, Malfoy,” he said, swirling the last of his firewhisky, “when are you going to admit you actually enjoyed working with me?”
Draco snorted. “Don’t hold your breath, Veyne. One successful mission doesn’t make you tolerable.”
Orion chuckled, about to retort when his eyes flicked toward the bar. He froze, his grin fading as his sharp gaze narrowed.
“What is it?” Draco asked, noticing the change in Orion’s demeanor.
Orion didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, watching the bartender with an intensity that sent a chill down Draco’s spine.
“That,” Orion muttered, “is not good.”
Draco followed his line of sight to the bar, where Harry Potter sat nursing a drink, deep in conversation with another patron. The bartender, a shifty-looking wizard with a nervous twitch, had just slipped something into Harry’s glass.
Draco’s stomach turned. “Did he—?”
“He did,” Orion said grimly, already standing. Without another word, Orion strode toward the bar, his posture radiating calm authority. Draco followed, his wand already tucked discreetly into his sleeve, ready to act if needed.
When they reached Harry, he was mid-laugh, oblivious to the danger. Orion clapped a hand on his shoulder, startling both Harry and the patron he was speaking with.
“Harry,” Orion said casually, his voice low and steady. “How about we switch drinks?”
Harry frowned, confused. “What are you talking about?”
Orion gestured to the bartender, who was now trying to look busy but failing miserably. “I don’t think your drink’s as safe as it should be.”
Harry’s expression darkened as he glanced at the glass in front of him. “What do you mean?”
“Just trust me,” Orion said. He grabbed Harry’s drink and sniffed it, his face twisting in disgust. “Yup. Definitely something in here that shouldn’t be.”
Draco, standing close enough to catch the exchange, turned his sharp gaze on the bartender. “Care to explain yourself?”
The bartender froze, his eyes darting between them. “I—I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t bother lying,” Orion said, his voice cold now, all traces of humor gone. He set the glass down carefully, his glowing purple eyes locking onto the bartender. “What did you put in the drink?”
The other patron, who had been talking to Harry, took a step back, clearly sensing the shift in the atmosphere.
"go" Draco warned the man. and thankfully, he listened. shuffling quickly away to the other side of the room.
“Nothing!” the bartender stammered, raising his hands. “It was just a harmless—”
“Legilimens,” Orion whispered, his wand already drawn.
The bartender’s eyes widened as he staggered back, clutching his head. Orion’s magic crackled faintly in the air, his expression unreadable as he sifted through the man’s thoughts. After a moment, he broke the spell, his jaw tightening.
“A memory charm?” Draco asked, catching the flicker of realization in Orion’s face.
“Among other things,” Orion said darkly. “He was trying to slip Potter something to make him more… persuadable. Someone paid him to do it.”
Harry’s eyes narrowed, his hand tightening around his wand. “Who?”
Before the bartender could bolt, Draco flicked his wand, casting a nonverbal Binding Spell. The man froze, his arms pinned to his sides.
“Don’t even think about running,” Draco said coldly.
The other patrons were now watching the scene with hushed curiosity, but Orion ignored them, his focus still on Harry.
“You all right?” Orion asked, his voice softer now.
Harry nodded, his expression grim. “Fine. Thanks for catching that.”
“Don’t mention it,” Orion said with a faint smile. “Literally. I’d rather not have everyone knowing I saved the famous Harry Potter from a spiked drink.”
Harry huffed a small laugh, shaking his head. “I owe you one.”
“You owe me two,” Orion corrected with a grin. “That mission last night was practically a gift from me to you.”
Draco groaned. “For Merlin’s sake, Veyne, must you always make everything about you?”
The bartender whimpered as Auror reinforcements arrived, summoned discreetly by Orion earlier. As the man was escorted away, Harry turned back to Orion and Draco.
“Drinks are on me,” Harry said firmly. “Least I can do.”
Orion’s grin widened. “I’ll hold you to that.”
Draco, watching the exchange, couldn’t help but feel that whatever tension he’d once had with Potter was being slowly replaced by something… almost resembling camaraderie. Not that he’d ever admit it, of course.