Кассандра Клэр: Draco Veritas

Draco shook his head, smiling slightly. "Buttercup," he said.

"Oh, not another one," said the girl in the picture, looking annoyed, but the portrait swung forward anyway, revealing a blank black entryway through the wall. Draco started off, and Harry, looking bewildered, followed Draco into the passageway.

A huge space opened up before them. It was an elegant room, all sparkling teak wood and dark oak and polished brass. A long bar ran across one wall, and behind it were shelves lined with row after row of liquor bottles: red Dragonś Blood gin, black Giant wine, viscous green Troll beer. A tall glass vodka bottle the height of a man stood to one side of the bar; inside it tiny broomsticks whizzed around in circles. The words ABSOLUT QUIDDITCH wound in scrollwork across the top.

A tall witch stood behind the bar counter, wearing a shimmering silver top, and pouring a thin stream of pink liquid into a glass held by a fat wizard in an orange robe who sat cross-legged at the bar. As Harryś eyes adjusted to the dimness he realized two things. One: that the bar was, aside from the bartender and a few waitresses, inhabited solely by wizards; there was not a witch to be seen. Two: that the girl behind the bar was not wearing a shimmering silver top after all; in fact, she was not wearing any top. She was clothed solely in her long glimmering hair and a pair of gold hotpants.

"Welcome to the Sleazy Weasel," said Draco indicating the bar with a sweep of his arm.

"Gah," said Harry, taking a step back. "I–I never — I´ve never seen-"

"Now you have," said Draco. He grabbed hold of the back of Harryś robes again and steered him firmly towards the bar. Finding an empty pair of stools next to the plump wizard with the pink cocktail, he plonked Harry down into a seat and leaned over the counter. "Oi!" he said. "Drinks, over here."

The topless waitress turned around. "Draco!" she said, obviously pleased to see him. She hurried over and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "I haven´t seen you in ages."

Harry made a gurgling sound. "You come here a lot?" he said to Draco.

"Believe it or not, my father used to conduct business deals here," said Draco, accepting the barmaidś kiss with the air of one to whom all homage is due. His eyes flicked expertly down the bar. "Right, then. One Mai Tai," he said. "With an umbrella. Green. And one…" He glanced over at Harry. "One Bloody Mary, double shot of Dragonś Blood."

The bartending witch grinned. "Umbrella?"

"Sure. A red one."

She winked at him. "Anything you want. And clever you, you got here before the show this time."

Draco just smiled. The show? thought Harry. His eyes darted to the side and lit upon a small stage towards the shadowy end of the room. There were several tall poles set up on it, and far behind them was a small group of wizard musicians. All men, as well. The one with the clarinet looked disturbingly like Snape.

Harry had seen enough bad movies to know what the poles were for. He slowly, disbelieveingly turned his head towards Draco, who was rummaging in the pockets of his cloak with an air of great unconcern.

"Malfoy," he said, a bit creakily. "Did you just take me to a wizard strip club?"

"Yup," said Draco, and tossed a handful of Galleons on the counter. "That should hold us for a few rounds."

Harry shook his head. "I´ll see you toast on the fires of hell for this, Malfoy."

"Did you say a toast?" The silver-haired barmaid was back (obviously a veela, Harry thought) with a smoking red drink in one hand and a swirling green drink in the other. She set them down in front of Harry and Draco and smiled. "How about a toast to the two best-looking boys at Hogwarts?"

Despite himself, Harry felt a blush creeping up from his collar. He was not immune to veela charms, even now. Draco, however, just grinned.

"Angelique," he said, "you´ve never even seen any of the other boys at Hogwarts."

The veela girl grinned back. "I´m just in it for the tips, love," she said.

Draco handed her a galleon. She tucked it carefully away in a place that nearly made Harry fall off his stool. When he righted himself, he made a grab for his drink, and drained it handily. It went down about as easily as a pint of gasoline, but even as he choked and sputtered he could feel the liquid spreading its alert and burning energy through his veins.

He gestured weakly with his hand. "Another," he said, between coughs.

"Another of the same, please."

They had each downed four drinks and the "showśtill hadn´t started.

Not that Harry seemed to care. He was sitting hunched over his fourth Dragonś Blood cocktail, staring down into it as if it held the secrets of the universe.

Gently, Draco poked him in the shoulder. "Buck up, Potter. The night is young and we have umbrellas in our drinks."

Harry turned unfocused green eyes on him. "What is it with you and drink umbrellas?"

"Well, thereś a good story there. Actually itś not a good story, itś just a long one. Letś talk about you instead. How did you come to be lying face-down in the snow outside the Forbidden Forest?"

"I told you. I had a fight with Hermione."

"And she banged you over the head with a shovel, dragged you out to the Forbidden Forest, and left you there?"

Harry blew out an exasperated breath. "No. I sort of — ran off. Things were getting to intense and — don´t you and Blaise ever fight?"

Draco snorted. "Not exactly."

"What does that mean?"

Draco shook his head, "I don´t want to talk about her."

"But sheś your girlfriend."

Draco was unable to restrain a shudder. "Don´t remind me."

Harry looked at him with his mouth open. "Don´t you like her?"

"Nobody likes Blaise," said Draco, with finality.

"Why not?"

"Ha!" Draco sat back, his eyes sparking. "´Where to start? 'Get me a present.´ 'Take me to Hogsmeade.´ 'Buy me that bracelet.´ 'Make love to me right here on the floor.´ 'No, not like that, like this.´ 'Stop wasting time and get your trousers off´.´"

"Which do you want me to do first?" asked Harry, poking his fourth -

fifth? — drink with the tip of the red umbrella.

Draco snorted. "No, thatś what sheś like. Sheś got the worst personality in the whole House, and as you can imagine thatś up against some pretty stiff competition."

Harry looked at him curiously. "Then why are you dating her?"

Draco knocked back his drink so fast that Harry was worried for a moment that he was going to topple off his barstool. He slammed the empty glass down on the counter. "What are you talking about, Potter?

She's fantastic."

"Er," Harry said, bewildered. "All right. It's just…whatever happened with you and Ginny? I thought you were going to…you know. Date. Maybe."

"We were what? Okay, Maudlin Man, this encounter session wasn´t supposed to be about me. It was supposed to be about you."

Harry drew himself upright with a fair bit of difficulty. He took a moment to focus his eyes on Draco. Then his green gaze sharpened, and hardened, and he no longer looked drunk at all. "Fine," he said. "Letś talk about me."

Draco idly ran a finger around the cold rim of his glass. "What did you and Hermione fight about?" he asked, making his voice neutral.

"Why don´t you tell me?" said Harry.

Draco blinked. "Eh?"

"She talks to you," said Harry, in a cool voice. "I know she does."

Draco met Harryś gaze with his own. "Do you care?"

"If it helps her, I guess I don´t."

Draco abandoned the cagey approach. "She says you´ve been ignoring her," he said. "She says you barely speak to her any more."

A slow flush spread upward from Harryś collarbone, across his face.

"Thatś not true," he said.

Draco didn´t say anything.