Chapter 20

                                    

                                          
Draco looked around the room but could not spot Harry anywhere. But he did see Ron, who was coming back through a door that Draco hadn't noticed before. He watched as the redhead took off a coat and hung it by the door. And that was when Draco noticed the window. He shook his head, trying to clear some of the whisky out of it. How had he missed the window? It took up most of the wall. 
                          
And there in the window, framed in moonlight, was Harry. Bingo. 
                          
Draco swung his legs around and clambered off of his bar stool. He swayed slightly as he tried to gain his balance. He glared at the bottle of whisky that was still sitting on the bar. It was the whisky's fault he was so tipsy. But liquid courage was what he needed, so he grabbed the bottle by the neck and walked over to the door. 
                          
Opening the door, he noticed vaguely that it was cold outside. Perhaps he should wear one of the coats that were hanging on the rack where Ron had placed his. That would probably be the smart thing to do. And Draco was pretty sure he was smart. He pulled a coat off of the rack at random and stuffed one arm into it before swinging it around and attempting to put the other sleeve on. With a small amount of hopping in a circle, he managed it. He picked up the whisky bottle again and walked outside. 
                          
Harry did not turn around at the sound of the door. 
                          
"Seriously, Ron," he said. "Go have fun."
                          
"I'm not the Weasel," Draco said. He was decently sure that he was not slurring his words. At the very least, he was trying his very hardest not to slur them. 
                          
"No," Harry said. He turned to face Draco and crossed his arms in front of his chest. "You're the Ferret." Draco burst out laughing. Harry frowned at him. They had just had an argument. Why was Draco so carefree?
                          
And then he spotted the bottle of whisky in his hands and he understood. He pointed at it. 
                          
"May I have some?" he asked. Draco shrugged and made his way across the balcony to Harry. 
                          
"Sure." He held out the bottle and Harry took it. He unscrewed the top and took a swig. He made a face, but swallowed the mouthful. He handed it back to Draco. 
                          
"What are you doing out here?" Draco asked. He looked around the space for some sort of chair, and, finding none, slid down the half wall of the balcony and sat on the floor with his knees bent before him. There was a small popping noise and a small furniture set materialized in the corner. Draco sighed dramatically and dragged himself back to his feet before sitting down heavily on the nearest seat, which happened to be a loveseat. 
                          
There was another small pop and a fireplace inserted itself against the wall of the castle. A fire sprang up in the grate. "Let me rephrase," Draco said, settling himself properly in his seat. "What are you doing out here aside from decorating the place?" Harry gave a small snort of laughter. Draco decided that was a good sign. He couldn't be too angry with Draco if he could still find him funny, right? 
                          
"I was sulking," Harry said. He walked over to where Draco was sitting and flopped down into one of the chairs. "And brooding. And generally trying to give off an air of misery." 
                          
"And you figured you could be more miserable if you were out in the cold?"
                          
"Finally, someone who understands me." Draco shrugged. 
                          
"It's the kind of melodramatic thing I would do," he said. 
                          
"Oh," Harry said, nodding slowly. Melodramatic hadn't been the effect he had been going for. They sat in silence for a long moment. Harry drained the last of his beer. Draco stared into the fireplace. Presently, Harry leaned forward to take the whisky bottle again. Draco snapped out of his reverie and handed it over.