"Fucking frustrating witch!"
Draco growled as he stormed into his flat, unbothered by the soot he was trailing on the white marble floor. "Who does She think she is-" he muttered under his breath as he tugged on his cravat, "acting as if she fucking owns the Ministry!" his feet carrying him towards his bedroom in furious strides, hands carelessly unfastening his expensive tailored suit. "Her and those skirts and-"
"I don't even need to ask who pissed in your firewhisky." He heard the voice of his friend – and unofficial flatmate – coming from the kitchen.
"Fuck off, Nott." he barked.
"Should I fuck off or not? Make up your mind, mate." Replied Theodore, purposely taunting him.
Draco just glared at him and walked down the corridor to his bedroom, changing clothes and disapparating.
_________________
Minutes later
A dark-haired, green-eyed Draco Malfoy sat on his usual spot at the bar counter of his favourite muggle-owned bar, his usual expensive whisky (neat) in a glass in front of him.
Four years since the end of the war...
He tossed the amber liquid back and stared at the empty glass for a moment.
Four years acting like the absolutely perfect wizarding citizen to prove to all that I am not my father.
He sighed, the heat of the alcoholic beverage spreading around his body, the relaxation of the alcohol reaching his bloodstream and making him forget (at least momentarily) about the awfully stressful day he had had at work – mentally, physically and emotionally stressful.
All because of Her.
Draco had spent more hours arguing with Her that day than actually getting any work done.
Unsurprising.
She had been her standard know-it-all-ful self and he (as usual) could barely think in her presence.
Well, not entirely true, he could think, just not work-related thoughts.
Draco sighed as he raised his empty glass, silently asking the barman for a refill.
Thoughts of Her were followed, as always, by what ifs and could haves that he'd never be able to learn the answers to.
Her.
The Gryffindor Princess, War Heroine, Order of Merlin First Class, who could have got any job she wanted after everything she had done for the world, but still had returned to Hogwarts and finished her N.E.W.T.s four years ago.
Her.
Who he had met in every class then and watched working hard to achieve an absurd number of N.E.W.T.s he was certain She didn't need.
"I want to earn my position, Malfoy!" she had told him one night when he questioned her in the Hogwarts Library.
And her reply had shocked him.
Earn it? – she thought she still had to fight to deserve something after helping Scarhead save the entire world?
Draco gave up trying to understand Her after that.
Two years after finishing Hogwarts, Draco graduated with double degrees in Ancient Runes and Potion Arts at Wizarding Sorbonne, got a job at the Ministry as an Unspeakable in the Department of Mysteries, and had already helped solve many post-war problems.
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Two Idiots Walk Into a Bar (Dramione)
FanfictionTwo glamoured idiots walk into a bar in the hopes of finding someone to help them forget about their mutual unrequited (or so they think) love. #COMPLETE Russian translation: https://ficbook.net/readfic/12826813