“So Drake,” said the man in blue, glancing down the length of a long wooden stick with a rubbered tip, “who’s the new guy?” Draco reached out and took the pool stick, and tossed it to Harry who caught it mechanically. Either the question was rhetorical or they were used to not getting answers, because the man looked away without a second glance when his question got waved off.
Draco gave Harry a slight nudge towards one of the billiard tables to get him moving, snatching up a pool stick of his own to use as he went. Brandishing it like a wand he tapped the green velvet of the table and muttered, “Rackham”, summoning up a triangle pattern of oddly colored balls on one side. He took one of the balls and placed them on the opposite side, acting as if everything was basic procedure. “Ill break,” he said calmly, placing the tip of his stick near the seperated ball and lining it up with his fingers.
He almost wasn’t heard, because Harry could hear blood rushing from his ears from the latest shot he had taken... apparently Vodka was a transmagical drink, Muggles or wizards could take it. He had no real idea of how to play the game they were faced with but it didn’t seem to matter as Draco blasted them apart with a loud snapping sound, and two of the balls sunk into pockets placed in the corners of the tables. “Drake?” he asked slowly, shaking his head to clear his thoughts and try to get his bearings.
Malfoy glanced up in annoyance from his next shot and emitted a small sigh. “Do you really expect me to go around using my real name,” he asked rhetorically before sending the balls flying every which way again, and Harry noticed two more dropped into their respective pockets. He understood the game already, but it didn’t interest him in the slightest. It was no Quidditch.
Draco straightened up and began a long circle around the table, eyeing up the different balls, and then glanced right at Harry’s forehead. “And unless you have your little umbrella up and ready, I wouldn’t use your real name either.”
Harry sighed. This was stupid. He didn’t even know why he was here of all places, and with DRACO of all people. He didn’t feel like standing around like a jackass holding a pool stick heed never get to use because Malfoy kept knocking in the balls, every shot, one after another. Come to think of it... “What am I doing here, Drac... er, Drake?” he asked, catching the look in the pale man’s eye when he’d almost let his name slip.
Malfoy smirked. “Drinking. Asking questions. Looking cute in your little 8 year old playground hood.”
Haha, Harry thought, try to throw him off by calling him cute. Well he wasn’t going to be thrown off, he wanted to go home and if Draco didn’t give him a damn good reason to stay then that was exactly what he was going to do. “I’m waiting,” he said, crossing his arms.
With a heaving sigh, Draco knocked the last ball into a pocket and straightened up, fixing Harry with an appraising look. “I’ve been watching you,” he said levelly, “it’s not like I have much else to do. You’ve become... destitute. And you need to get out again. I am NOT going to let myself have been out done by some man who becomes a malcontent hermit. So how about it, Harry? (Rackham! A new set of balls appeared) Ready to start living again?” Out of no where, Draco produced a drink and pressed it into his hand. Harry stared into the brown tinted liquid for a moment, and then looked up at Draco.
Maybe he was... even if it was just for the night. Harry threw back the drink and slammed the glass back down, and then took his place at the table for the opening shot.