#lucius 01

The Hog’s Head saw, as any pub was wont to do, a wide variety of patrons through its door. On Hogsmeade weekends the main room would be populated even more sparsely than usual by those who were quiet and solitary enough to become regulars, peppered instead with particularly adventurous or fool-hardy students who thought the fact that they weren’t in uniform meant that they were indistinguishable from the adults around them. Evenings could mean a slow trickle of customers and a subsequent early night, or a stream of witches and wizards leaving work and unwilling to turn their sights towards home just yet. The worn, scuffed floorboards and low-slung ceiling, its support beams exposed freely to the air, had witnessed everyone from dark-cloaked figures Aberforth was almost certain were vampires rather down on their luck, and, as was the case that evening, Lucius Malfoy.

Above the low hum of the conversations of patrons scattered throughout the room, the heavy front door creaked, hinges squeaking out in protest at the movement. The noise, shrill as it was, didn’t turn any heads in the pub. Aberforth had noted the pressure on the hinges years ago now, but almost immediately discarded the idea of spending a few moments to charm them back to their full capability. The noise was, after all, a decent bell if he kept one ear open, expecting to be alerted of another body to deal with a few moments in advance. And so it was when Malfoy pushed open the door, stepping in. Aberforth spared him a only the briefest of glances before returning his attention to the glass he’d been rhythmically wiping for five minutes now. 

Aberforth made a point of distancing himself from the world, but it was hard not to know a Malfoy when you saw one. He’d picked up far more than he really cared to know working in the Hog’s Head- things had been much easier and less annoying back in the days when he’d roamed freely through the muggle and magical worlds, easier at least when it came to dealing with people. He’d much prefer his line of work if everyone were plunged into the sort of shrouds of anonymity that had enveloped the strangers Aberforth knew he'd only know for a night. Names complicated things.

Lucius made his way to the bar, Aberforth actively listening out for the pace of footfalls approaching, and waiting for the wizard to appear in his periphery. Just for the hell of it, Aberforth stubbornly kept his gaze downwards, wiping the glass as if it were the most interesting and important object in the world. When he did look up, it was to meet Malfoy’s eyes with an expectant eyebrow raised over what was an otherwise exceptionally unmoved expression. “Evening. What’ll it be?”