Harry heaved a sigh, knowing whatever was decided in the conversation wouldn’t be good for him. He wondered briefly at what kind of answer he would give in the negative that wouldn’t offend Draco, and then it came to him. “I’m not going anywhere with some spineless traitor like you!” And then Draco smiled, because he could see there was absolutely no conviction behind Harry’s words. Just a meaningless dash of mud to try to hold up a damn that was already splintering. He had seen Harry nights before, and then he had seen him last night. Despite his best efforts, Potter had blended in perfectly with the smoke and the booze and the gambling. He’d lost the gambling, of course, but that was the point. As long as he had his hood down he was one of them, and he’d liked it. “So a bar, then?” “Draco...” Harry trailed off, trying to look for some retort he knew would be futile. “Why are you doing this? I was doing fine before you showed up from the dead and started dragging me along.” Suddenly serious, Draco shook his head. “You weren’t doing fine,” he said, “and that’s half the reason I’m here. You need to get a life. Now. Or in the immediate future. Because frankly, Potter, you killed me. Oh, the papers say it wasn’t directly, but everyone thinks it was. And my parents, too, for that matter. Do you think I’m letting the name of Malfoy be stamped out by someone who spends the rest of his life sulking in some fucking hole?” So it was a pride thing... Draco was dragging him through the underbelly night life because of his pride. That was believable, and even probable once he thought about it. But there was still a question he had. “Who did kill your parents, Draco?” He was met with a blank stare for an answer, and at first he thought it was a simple refusal to respond. And then he realized that stare was all the answer he needed. He felt appalled for a moment, wondering why, and then the feeling faded. For Draco to do that... maybe he really had been on the right side. But he could still remember his raging headache and the vomit he’d tasted in his mouth. “I don’t want to drink tonight.” “And...?” Draco asked. “You can go to a bar and not drink. Its stupid, but you can do it. In fact, its probably a good idea, because what I have in mind is a Muggle bar.” Harry frowned. “Why on earth would you want to go to a Muggle bar?” Draco grinned widely, and Harry knew nothing truly good ever came from that grin. “Well,” he began, “I guess we’ll just have to find out, won’t we?”