Draco ducked and dodged through the people and objects of the hall like it was his second home.. and at that moment Harry realized for all he knew it was his first. There were plenty of apartments above the stores here, and with Draco being officially listed as deceased it wasn’t as if he could live much of anywhere else. For some reason he didn’t seem like much of a country boy to Harry. After passing an extremely nasty looking group of ogres the blonde man ducked low under a sign near a gutter, and at first Harry thought that Draco had simply disapperated. Then he realized he’d slid under the grate itself, with an ease that belied the basic rules of the human vertebrae. Frowning, Harry quickened his step as not to lose Draco (remarking at how their roles had been reversed only minutes before) and ducked down at the grate when he reached it, realizing it wasn’t as tight a squeeze as he’d thought. Still, there was a pool of water at the bottom and no visible light, and he wasn’t looking forward to the trip.
Harry shrugged. He was dirty anyway, and when it came down to it, what did he have to lose? He grasped the top of the grate tightly and slid himself forward, but instead of letting go kept his grip tight to avoid flying into anything that might be blocking the path. The pain in his shoulders turned out to be worth it, he decided when he landed in ankle deep slimy water, because there was nothing but a wall there after all. The path was to the left.
With a splattering of water, Harry trudged down the relatively short path and up to a massive... thing. It seemed to be the top of a valve, and he wondered for a moment if his eyes had deceived him. There was no way Draco could have forced this open, especially not in the few short feet they had between them. And then a message, a memory, a saying, from his past, flashed through his mind.
“Are you mad!? Are you a wizard or aren’t you!?”
A smile mixed with incredible pain followed that thought. How long ago had it been when Ron had first yelled that, covered in Witches Snare as it choked the life out of them. Had they ever been that innocent, that naive? Hermione could summon infernos with a flick of her fingers now, she didn’t need to carry fireballs in a jar. Ron was still so pumped from being a Cannon beater he was probably strong enough to snap the Snare himself. “Oh well...” Harry mumbled to himself, pulling up his umbrella and tapping the valve lightly, feeling rather foolish but having no idea what else to do.
A familiar feeling hit him... as if someone had placed a hook in his navel and pulled. It was a feeling mixed with some horrible thoughts, a frozen corpse and a rising lord... and he detested it. A Portkey, apparently, was the valve.. clever, but Harry had to admit in the second it took for him to feel his feet touch something solid again that the amount of secrecy that was obviously involved in this.
When the feeling of disorientation left him, he wiped his eyes to clear them, and gazed around, not quite sure what’s he’d see. A trap? Most likely, but he didn’t care. He wasn’t even sure he’d fight. But he didn’t see a ring of dementors and the few surviving death eaters, with wands pointed at him, but instead was presented with a rather cozy feeling room with some less then cozy looking occupants. It was a bar... and it wasn’t. Two billiard tables filled the center of the room, and dart boards adorned the walls. Draco was standing at the bar himself, and turned away holding four small glasses filled with some random alcohol. He held two out to Harry, face un readable. “Here,” he said, before turning to one of the other men to ask for a pool stick, but then he paused to talk over his shoulder. “It took you long enough.”