Blades of Injustice

"It's a new year, boy," said the bartender. "Time to erase the past and start anew." He slid a beer down the table. "It's on the house, kid." The man took it but didn't drink it. Fingering the edge of the glass with a cut up finger, he sighed.

"Drinking, are we, Potter?" sneered a voice behind him. A voice he knew from his so-called past. He turned around and saw the familiar form of a lean body with silver hair and eyes to match.

He didn't answer. His friend took this as a signal to sit down in an empty seat next to him. "Is this the way you're bringing in the New Year?" he said, not paying attention to the silence. "Pathetic, really, Potter."

"And what's your excuse, Malfoy?" the man finally spoke. He stared at the gentleman caller and waited. For what, he didn't know. An answer would be nice. So would an apology. An apology for running out on him all those years ago.

The flaxen haired man cleared his throat. "One beer please," he said, raising a finger. He turned to the brunette, his counterpart. Searching for the words to say, he tentatively gulped his beer and grimaced. "Muggle bars," he mumbled.

"You just left, Draco," said the scarred boy. "Left without a word, a note, in the middle of the night, in the middle of a war." He paused. "You were supposed to help me with that war."

Draco set his beer down. "But you won, Harry. You won the war."

"With no help from you," Harry seethed. Draco stared at the big, digital clock that had been placed up by the television. It said 12:O5 am.

"Come off it, Potter. It's five minutes into the new year and you're already jumping down my throat."

"I'd curse you if we weren't surrounded by Muggles." Harry revealed his wand just a little, but did so with a smile on his face. Draco stared at the old, unpolished stick and laughed. Harry never went anywhere unarmed, he remembered.

The bartender watched them with interest, but directed his attention elsewhere when a New Years' Brawl erupted in the far end of the pub. Harry turned his head to watch and then brought his mind back to Draco and gave a wry snort. "Remember when we were like that?"

Draco paused. "We're still like that."

"Nice of you to kill my nostalgia," Harry replied, "really nice of you."

The former bad boy rolled his eyes at his friend, and took a quick glance at the fight, that was still going on despite the bartender's attempts to break it up, and sighed. "I miss that." Noting the confused look on Harry's face, he added, "You know. Just punching each other mercilessly with no clue about how the other felt. Simple physical violence."

"Nothing simple about it," Harry sneered. "I had hormones raging in me, not knowing if I wanted to kiss you or kill you." He thought about the last statement. "Frankly, I still don't know what I want."

Draco chuckled a bit.

"Hey," Harry began, "you still haven't told me why you're here." Draco ordered a martini, hoping its increased alcohol content might get him somewhat tipsy. Poking his stale olive, he sighed.

"I knew you'd be here." With one swift gulp, he downed his martini and was trying to catch the bartender's attention so he could order another one. "Or someplace Muggle-esque. Searched about twelve of these places until I found you."

Offering him his beer, Harry cocked his head, his untidy hair moving to the side, revealing his scar. "And why would you want to find me?"

"Because," Draco said, wiping his mouth on his sleeve, "I can't stand you, but I can't stand to be without you, either." He clang an empty glass to Harry's and set it down. "Happy New Year, Harry."

And with a small pop, he was gone.