Bland. \ \ Drarry \ \

Eyesore

Eyesore.

That's what the mark that Draco's left arm was.

What it had been marked as by the rest of the wizarding world.

It wasn't a sign of hatred, disgust, nor terror. 

Just an ugly mark that certain people bore.

Draco had been shocked at himself to find that he despised that the fact that he was no longer marked as any of those things himself.

Why should he be allowed to simply slide back into civilization as your average everyday person?

As if he hadn't been participating in the act of society crumbling matters.

As if he hadn't stood by the side of the man who had been directing those matters.

It made him feel like one of the many stray felines prowling the evening streets, when he had once been the lion dominating the land.

No matter where his loyalties had lain by the end of the war..didn't the one and only Draco Malfoy deserve some attention?

Who cared if it was good or bad at this point?

Why didn't he matter anymore?

Why didn't anybody care?

Care about his actions like they did for the little Hero boy?

How come the 'chosen one' should have a comfortable seat on the throne when Draco had been risking his life all the same.

Maybe these problems were the reason Draco was now unusually drawn towards the appeal of fire whiskey.

Maybe it was the boredom overcoming him.

The pale haired man supposed that it didn't matter anymore. 

Choices had been made.

Outcomes were inevitable, or at least them were in his alcohol dazed mind.

Which was exactly why said man was currently peering down at the amber liquid in his glass, his gaze dull with the recognition of the painfully familiar sight.

 A halfway drained glass.

Soon to be empty.

And then another full one would reappear. 

By now, he could hardly remember ordering another drink, never-mind what the hell he was drinking, or where he even was.

A dingy bar, no doubt there, but the whereabouts of the bar?

He had no inkling. 

"You're looking a little rough there, ferret."

Ah, he must be drunk.

Draco only heard that irritating voice in his drunken thoughts.

Not even alcohol could muffle that voice from his brain.

It was permanently imprinted somewhere in there.

"Jesus, can you even hear me? I mean..I knew you were dim, but I thought you might have at least had a bulb or two still shining in that dome of yours."

It wasn't until then that Draco even bothered to flick his gaze to the side, his once slow and lazy breathing catching in his throat.

What in the hell was wonder boy doing roaming around in some backstreet bar?

"You know, you're pretty hard to track down nowadays. Been trying to keep your ugly mug in the shadows, eh Malfoy?" Harry commented, his tone painfully easy, even laid back.

Whatever snide remark Draco would have usually replied with was stuck in the very back of his throat.

Instead, he gave a halfhearted sneer, quickly lifting his glass to drain the contents.

He was sure as hell going to need a bit of a kick if he was going to continue this conversation.

That was for damn sure.

Word count:508

Don't expect continuous updates on me, I have absolutely no schedule. Most of these chapters are going to be written when I'm bored at night.