dray

Mary waited for Lily at the restaurant where they planned to meet. She checked the texts on the dating app that they met on. Is this for real? She couldn't believe her luck when she swiped right and the screen immediately popped up. It's a match! Lily has kept her up laughing for the past week with stories from her college days. Mary looked at Lily’s deep green eyes in her profile  picture and realized how soon she will be sitting across from them. She then felt herself switch from excited to nervous. Is she going to be able to tell I'm nervous? Will I make her laugh? Have my hands always been this sweaty? Oh my god, what are words? What am I going to say when she gets here? Do we even speak the same language? I never asked if she even speaks English — I just assumed— oh god!

The hostess led Lily to the table and Mary was already there sitting scrolling on her phone. Oh fuck, I’m screwed! Lily walked up to the table and felt the heat rising in her cheeks, knowing it was very obvious on her pale skin. 

“Hi!” Lily piped and immediately grimaced and shuffled awkwardly closer to the table.  

“Hullo,” Mary muttered, glancing around. 

Lily smoothed her dress as she sat down and whispered hesitantly, "I guess we're both feeling shy, but I'm excited to get to know you better. You look incredible.” 

Remus wiped the sticky counter once again after spilling the third drink of the night. A breeze of ocean air rushed in from the deck, causing his curly locks of hair to get in the way. He brushed the hair out of his eyes, not noticing the sticky residue on his hands now getting all over his hair.

Remus places the drink on the bar, “your vodka soda.” 

The red headed man grabs the glass and ignores the empty tip jar. 

Remus smiles.

The man walks away.

With the line cleared up, Remus looks around. Everyone here was famous; a model, actor, or musician. There was Lily Evans, the actress dating James Potter, twirling on the dance floor as her boyfriend strung his guitar on stage. Whirling next to her was the model Emmeline Vance, who was dating the next marauder, Peter Pettigrew, the band's drummer. 

Remus glanced across the dance floor. Who knew people could look like this in real life. He looked past the scars on his wrists to his worn out sneakers. 

Where is Sirius Black? Remus wondered where the lead singer of the band could be. Probably hooking up in a stall right now with someone his fans would approve of. Remus just wanted to take a closer peek at the man who was his late in life bi-awakening. When he saw Sirius perform, those grey eyes and sharp cheekbones sent him for a whirlwind. 

Remus hears a throat clearing that takes him out of his thoughts, he turns around and is face to face with those same piercing gray eyes and a sly smirk. 

Remus mutters, “Sorry can I get you anything?” 

“Hmm a whiskey neat and a dance with you, Moony.” 

“Moony?”

“Yeah, you got a dazed look going on right now, like the moon.”

Remus turns around to make the drink. 

“Oh come don’t ignore me— can’t you spare a quick dance for your favorite band member?” 

Remus spills the whiskey all over his shirt. “You're not my favorite band,” he muttered, blushing.

Sirius ran his fingers through his hair. “We are everyone's favorite band.”

Remus grabbed another whiskey decanter to pour another drink. “I’m sure all the other people here would love to have a dance with Britain's Prince.”

Srius laughs loudly and few people turn their heads. “You know, if this is about you being on the clock, I’m the one paying you so really you have to do what I say” 

“Fine,” Remus says begrudgingly, slamming the glass of whiskey on the bar. “I’m doing a shit job tonight. I might as well go for a dance.” 

Sirius grabs the glass and drinks it in a gulp.

Remus wipes his hands on his shirt and goes round the bar.

Harry opened his eyes and was dazzled by the gold and green; he had no idea what happened. He was clutching a lunchbox. He was wearing the locket.

What happened? They just escaped the Ministry, and he saw Grimmauld Place, so where was he now? And what the fuck is this lunchbox?

Harry was standing on a street that was paved with white stone. Buildings rose on both sides, and music was reaching the street from an open window. The street opened to a wide bridge across a river. The city stretched on, glowing with hundreds of golden lights. This was the most beautiful place Harry had ever seen.

Where am I?

Behind him, someone scoffed. “Gods, another drunk passed out in the street.”

Harry got up from the ground, wand raised.

A woman stood a few steps away from him.

She was tall. Had silver-blonde hair that reached her shoulders. A half-empty bottle dangling from her fingers. What really spooked Harry was her cold, grey eyes.

“So why are you threatening me with a stick?”

Was he in London? Is this a Muggle?

But Harry felt something was off. Something about her gave death. Something ancient. Powerful. She most definitely wasn’t a muggle.

“Excuse me?”

“Oh—erm—sorry,” said Harry as he put his wand down.

“You better get another drink before the hangover sets.”

The woman looked towards a tavern just past a bookstore. Velaris River Tavern. Harry stared. Velaris. Thats where he is. Was the lunchbox a portkey?

The woman stared walking towards the bar. Harry followed.

She slid on a stool at the bar. Harry sat next to her.

“Another whisky, make sure it burns— “

“—keep it on my tab— one for the man next to me too.”

“Thank you,” Harry muttered.

A bottle of whisky and two tumblers leviated over to the bar where the woman and Harry were sitting. The bottle began pouring itself into the tumblers.

“So you aren’t a muggle!,” exclaimed Harry.

“A muggle?”

“You do magic?”

“Obviously, were in fucking velaris, you sure you’re not drunk?”

Harry looked into the womans eyes. “Okay to tell you the truth.” Harry paused thinking how he should continue— “Im not really sure how I got here.”

“Does it have to do with that locket on your neck? It shouldn’t be here.”

“I’m going to destroy it— and I really need to get back to my friends.”

“I think you came holding this,” the woman said, holding up the lunchbox.

“Shit— it doesnt work— I was hoping it could bring me back.”

“I can try to fix it.”

“That would be great.”

“Lets do shots.”

“Cheers,” Harry and the woman said in unison.

The woman held the lunchbox between her hands, and silver flames passed over the box.

A moment passed.

“I think it should work now.” She put it down on the bar.

Harry placed his palm on the lunchbox.

“Wait— I never got your name—.”

The world began to swirl.

He thought he heard her voice as he was already spinning away.

Remus Lupin flicked his wand towards the radio. He was alone in his small London flat. The radio started playing. Ugh Taylor Swift again — don’t muggles have anything better on?

Come on, come on, don't leave me like this

I thought I had you figured out

Something's gone terribly wrong

You're all I wanted

Come on, come on, don't leave me like this

Remus buried his head in his hands. Images of Sirius, James, and Peter flashed in his head. The four of them in school, over the summer, wrestling. Oh Sirius, he thought, as a tear hit the table.  

It was a week. Sirius in Azkaban. James and Peter are dead. What the hell had happened?

I need to get out of here. 

That’s what he was going to do. 

He stood up and shuffled to the door past empty bottles of vodka. 

He vomited. 

Fuck. 

Remus wiped the bile off his face with his sleeve and grabbed his keys. 

The flat door closed behind him as he went down the stairwell. 

When was the last time I showered? It didn’t matter. What’s a life without Sirius. 

The late nights. His beard. His smile. How he pretended to be so rough. How soft his skin was. 

Gods their first kiss.  

Remus was now outside. It was cold out. The breeze was biting his face. 

Sirus loved this weather. 

He found a pub. He pressed open the green wooden door. 

He was just sitting there. His long shaggy black hair and rugged, rough face. Mhmm he could just smell the sweat of their bodies together. 

“Back again, Remus?”  

“Yeah you know just here for a quick drink.”

“It’s 9am!”

“Why open the bar if you don’t want to let people order anything.”

“I care about you, Remus.”

“yeah.. I’ll have a shot of vodka. Thanks.” 

“It's been two years — Rem your friends are—” he trailed off.

“— you have to move on,” he finished.

Remus slammed his fist on the table. “You don’t get to tell me that.”

The bartender raised his eyebrows. “Please, I blew you in the toilets, and I let you finish on my face! We aren't strangers.”

Remus picked up and threw a glass on the bar. It hit the wall with a shatter, pieces scattering on the floor. 

“Fuck you— you know I don’t even know your name that’s how much I care.”

Remus stood up and walked towards the door. 

James was holding his father’s hand as they went in the elevator.

“This is what muggles use to go up and down.”

The elevator was packed as they entered, a bunch of men and women with blank stares. But it was silent. You could have heard a pin drop.

 Fleamont pressed number 13. 

The elevator stopped at floor 10. People filed out walking aimlessly, with vacant stares.

“Father, are they zombies?” asked James.

“No, they are just muggles going about their purposeless lives,” Fleamont answered.

The people remaining in the elevator didn't even look towards them. They were so deep in their own heads.

The elevator stopped at 13. James and Fleamont got out.

They walked down the hall and stopped in front of a wooden door. 

“Sleekeazy Beauty and Company” was written on a sign on the door in small gold letters.

Inside, a round man with a mustache was sitting by the front desk. ‘Ah, Mr. Potter, the man from the American Apothecary, Walgreens is ready to meet with you. He’s waiting in the conference room.

“Thank you, Alfred.”

Fleamont looked at his son, “James, why don’t you find something to do? This shouldn't be too long.”

Fleamont went towards the back of the office.

Alfred stood up to look down at James. “Young James, there's a playground down the street I can have one of the interns show you.”

“I guess so,” James replied weakly.

“It will be fun.”

“PATRICE.”

A twenty-something-year-old wearing a two-piece skirt suit walked over. 

“Please bring young Potter to the park across the street.”

“I am working on a contract for Boots Apothecary.”

“Should have been faster, Patrice—  Mr. Potter needs his son watched.”

Patrice sighed. “Alright. Come here James.” She took his hand. “How old are you again?”

“Eight,” James replied.

They walked towards the elevator. The elevator was empty going down.

“When you become a big, powerful, rich owner, James…”

“...try to respect the women working for you,” she finished.

They walked to the park across the street. There was a playground. 

“I’ll sit here. Let me know if you need anything.” Patrice sat down on a bench.

James ran towards the swings. A girl with long auburn hair was on one of the swings, swinging up and down. James lurked on the side.

After a few minutes, she noticed James watching.

“You can use them too, without being creepy.”

James’ cheeks reddened. He hurried over to a swing that was furthest from the girls’.

“I'm not creepy, I promise.”

The girl continued, “I’m Lily!”

“I’m James,” he replied, the flush still on his face. “I don’t talk to muggles often.”

“What’s a muggle?”

Before he could respond, Fleamont entered the swing area. “James lets go.” 

“Nice to meet you,” James mumbled.

Lily waved.

The sun was beating down on the arena. Only one pair was scheduled to leave the sand. Ron flipped his long, fiery red hair and cracked his big hands together. The faceguard was obstructing his vision, and the sun was scorching down on him. His breastplate barely fit him and was scratching his chest.

How did I even get here?

Right. Harry and Hermione were flirting so much that he couldn't handle it. Of course, the chosen one and the smartest witch were going to end up together. They weren’t doing shit about taking down Voldemort, and he felt that he was wasting his time.

Also, Harry should have known I liked her. Well, not anymore. He kicked the sand.

He barely even got back to the Burrow before he was captured by Snatchers and was sold to a tribe of wizards living in the Sahara Desert.

Fight for your freedom, they said. Well, here he was now.

His opponent stepped out.

Her hair was cropped short. She was carrying her wand in one hand and a small lip gloss in the other. In little gold letters, Ron could see the words Madame Primpernelle's. 

She smiled as she applied her lipgloss and gave Ron a wink.

She smacked her lips, her blue eyes sparked in the sunlight. “May the best win.”

Ron pulled out his wand. A horn blew.

What was that spell Harry used on Malfoy? Chosen one indeed, almost murdering a student in a bathroom. Idiot.

“Sectumsempra,” Ron shouted as he remembered.

His opponent dodged. A flash of green light nearly hit Ron.

She’s really going for a quick kill here.

Ron jumped up. “CONFRIGO,” he yelled midair.

There was a blast of fire, and his opponent hit the wall with a loud crack. Part of the sandwall crumbled as she hit it. But she got up from the rubble. Now covered in bruises and burns, hair singed, she was ready for more. She flicked her wand.

“AHHHHHHH.” Every bone in Ron’s body burned. This is what the cruciatus curse feels like. I’m going to die.

No.

He was not.

He inched his hand towards his wand. Every movement was burning, hurting. He wanted to curl up and end everything.

He grabbed it.

Draco stumbled to the coffee machine, switched on the levels, and started making a cup of coffee.

He staggered; he felt the burn across his face before he realized what happened.

“Drunk again at work?” Lucius spat, his hand recoiling from the slap.

“Father —there’s a customer— Draco mumbled.

Lucius spun around to the bar— “I apologize— my useless son— drunk at work again as usual.”

The customer pretended they were looking at the message board on the wall—the poster for tonight’s Marauders concert at the Shrieking Shack.

“Lav—let’s go somewhere where workers aren't abused,” The customer’s boyfriend said, walking up to her, while staring at Lucius.   

Lucius glared at Draco, his eyes saying, look what you did.

Tears filled Draco’s eyes.

~~~

That evening, Draco was closing up the coffee shop. He threw the trash into the dumpster. His head pounded, and his hangover was just getting worse.  

Lucius had already left for the day, had to run some errands, and visit Narcissa at the nursing home. She suffered a stroke last year, became paralyzed, and Draco had to drop out of college to help with the shop.

The Marauders concert.

That was perfect. There would be alcohol, and he heard it was good.

Draco hurried down the block towards the Shrieking Shack. The line was out the door. The front was crowded. Security was making sure everyone had tickets and wasn’t sneaking in drinks.

Draco hurried to the back of the building and found the service entrance. He tried the door, and it was unlocked. Inside, he found a storage room where they kept the liquor. He grabbed a bottle of vodka and took a swig. Thank god.

The music was pounding. He found his way through the back to the dance hall. It was packed. 

Remus Lupin, James Potter, Sirius Black, and Peter Petegrew. The boyband that grew up.

He met James Potter’s kid back when he was still in college. Couldn't remember his name, but he seemed like a prick. He was dating that red-haired girl from one of his classes. He remembered her because she was on the women’s basketball team.

Draco took another swig.

“Hey, can we get some of that?” A woman with blonde hair wearing a crop top and high-waisted jeans asked him in his ear because the music was so loud.

Draco raised the bottle of vodka. “This?”

“Yeah,” she yelled back. “I’m Hannah. These are my friends Terry and Cho.” She pointed towards the guy in the pressed polo to the woman with the ink-black hair next to her.

“Sure,” said Draco, handing over the bottle.

After they all took a swig, Cho grabbed Draco’s hand, “let’s dance.”

The group moved towards the center of the dance floor.

The next thing Draco saw, everything was white.

“Draco, Draco.” He felt his father's hands on him, rocking his chest.

“Father, what happened?”

“I was going to ask you that.”

“They found you outside the Shrieking Shack, wallet gone, passed out. It’s 5AM. What were you doing out so late?”

Draco tried to remember, but he couldn't.