When Worlds Collide

Chapter 12 - Festive Feeling

Naturally, considering recent events, sleep wouldn't have come easily to Trina and Tony, so instead of heading to their respective beds, they locked up the room and headed downstairs. Although the restaurant would have long since closed, the bar would still be serving, and the cybercafé was a 24/7 service.

Whatever sombre faces and demeanours they had had upstairs were coaxed away under the influence of several shots of made up of various drinks, courtesy of the friendly bartender and spare change in their wallet - then later 'spare change' still in their bank accounts. They were the only ones up, which was hardly surprising considering the time, so they sat uninterrupted opposite each other at a polished square wooden table that had the occasional cigarette burn on its surface, and Tony had her feet up on one of the unoccupied chairs on either side of her. A jukebox played quietly in the background, and dim lights made for a cosy drinking setting. The bartender stood behind the counter at the end of the room. He was a young man - maybe 30 - with finger-combed brown hair and a relaxed phlegmatic expression.

"Life's not so bad," Trina said with a twitch of a smile. "All you need is a couple of shots to see the lighter side of life."

Tony held up one of the six empty shot glasses in front of them to a low-lit light ahead, and peered through it. "Looks rather dim to me. And yellow."

"We could put up a Christmas tree with fairylights, then life would be colourful too!"

Tony smiled, not drunkenly, but she could still feel the lulling comfort of intoxication waiting to make its presence known in the near future. "Now there's an idea. Let's get a tree!"

They both laughed uproariously. For all their differences, one of the few things they shared was their 'drunk fingerprint'. They both had the same characteristics develop when under the influence of alcohol. Rather than getting moody, or violent, or even slur when they spoke, they both got very affectionate - even with people they'd known for a matter of minutes, and they found everything funny. But then, what wasn't funny about a cigarette burn shaped like a circle?

When the laughter subsided, Tony brought her head down to look into an empty shot glass in front of her, as if she were looking through the lens of a microscope. "Do you think if I stared hard enough it would fill up again?"

"Let's try!" said Trina with an enthusiastic laugh, and with an expression that plainly communicated she wasn't drunk enough to have been serious. Neither was Tony, but their character was often so wacky anyway that it got difficult to tell sometimes just how sober they were.

Trina looked to the bar to see the bartender looking attentive as he dried a glass. "Oh, shh!" she exclaimed to Tony in an extremely loud whisper easily governing the quiet room. "We don't want to be sent out - be quiet!" Much to Tony's amusement, this last word was near on a yell.

When Tony brought her feet down from the chair and turned to see the bartender too, she saw that his attention wasn't aimed at critiquing them, but at a quiet new entrant who had made his way into the room.

His clothing almost blended into the shadows of the room. Dark shoes, dark pants, and a dark grey cashmere sweater made him appear really quite elegant. It was only on a closer inspection, resulting from him crossing the room towards them, that they could see the flowing-platinum-haired picture of elegance was none other than Draco Malfoy.

He went to sit down on the chair that Tony had had her feet propped upon, so she instead swivelled slightly to lay them on the remaining empty chair.

"Hey, hot stuff," said Tony teasingly, flicking her eyebrows up at him once, and Draco looked a little uncomfortable before he realised she was doing it deliberately, to watch him squirm. "Whatcha doin' here?"

So he resolutely looked directly back at her and replied, "Hi. I didn't want to be up there with them, when all they can do is analyse every detail until it's quite dead, and accuse me of every illegal thing possible." He looked at Trina before dropping his gaze to the six empty shot glasses sitting on the table, which Trina was now trying to make a mini-tower out of the glass building blocks. "I see you've made yourself at home."

"A home of many Christmas Puddin's..." said Trina with a dreamy smile.

"That's the name of the shots," Tony explained to the confused Draco.

"So it's a Merry Christmas all year round!" Trina concluded happily.

"Hey there, girls," came a friendly voice from over Tony's shoulder, and she twisted to see the bartender behind them smiling amiably. "What'll your friend here have?" He turned his attention to Draco who was looking quite off-guard.

Tony, too, was surprised, and she looked as if she were about to say something about their 'friend here' being underage, despite the elegant attire and his height making him appear older. As if Trina read her mind and her intent, she gave a subtle urgent shake of her head to her friend, and turned to watch Draco's response.

"Uh..." he was saying, and Trina was relishing in the knowledge that Draco didn't have any idea of drinks in the Muggle world, and was therefore likely to be feeling very foolish. Draco recovered himself admirably well however, when he maintained his air of coolness and he gave a nonchalant wave of his hand, saying airily, "I'll have whatever they're having," as if it was really beneath him to worry about such things.

"Very wise," said Trina nodding, and looking at him as if to say what he'd just said wasn't a wise decision at all and he'd just condemned himself to death.

"Christmas Puddin's, I presume," said the bartender with a smile, and receiving affirmative nods he walked away to make up the order.

"What have I just asked for?" Draco said warily. "What are those things made of?"

"Uh," said Tony, her brow furrowed as she tried to come up with the answers. "It's three things. The top is Baileys, which gives it that nice creamy-looking top that you'll see. One of the under layers is something very dark, and the other, totally clear, ingredient is something that has a bigger kick than a ballet dancer on steroids. It must be 150% alcohol at least! It really belts you at the back of the throat! It's not vodka though. We had these shots in Auckland once, and I put my finger in the glass when it just had the clear stuff in it, then licked my finger, and it just about knocked me for six!"

Draco's brow furrowed in confusion. "Six what?"

Tony looked thoughtful, before replying, "You know what? I have no idea. It's just what people say."

This explanation had clearly gone over Draco's head, and he warily watched the bartender setting down the three full shot glasses onto their table.

"Ok, you have to knock this back with us, Draco," Trina was instructing him. "It's fun. And it makes life happy."

Draco looked sceptical of this idea.

"Are you sure you don't have your wand with you?" Tony asked him. "Because I think I know where you're keeping it!"

Trina laughed heartily and again coaxed Draco to take the shot. "C'mon, you've got the shot, and that's more than-" she lowered her voice so the bartender wouldn't overhear, "-more than most 15-year-olds could say."

Tony was now looking at him with amused condescension, and that was the last straw for Draco. He was not going to be looked at as if he were childish or too good to have a bit of alcohol! He determinedly picked up his shot glass, and Trina counted them all down.

"3...2...1!"

They all took the rather large shots in one gulp, and Draco coughed a little, but maintained this to be because the drink started going down the wrong pipe.

The bartender, who they'd by now learned was called Matt, had obviously chatted with the girls enough beforehand to know that their eccentric behaviour was no drunken threat to the place, because he continued to give them a ready supply of Christmas Puddin's. Draco refused to back down before the girls did, so it wasn't long before he was joining in with the rowdy and rather intoxicated laughter.

"I want some smokes," Trina said in a whine, with a pout. Trina didn't generally smoke, but only when she drank.

"Well, 1) you don't have any," Tony listed, "2) It would cost a fair deal to buy some - considering you'd only use a few and not a whole box; 3) They're foul. Gross habit."

"You smoke when you drink too!" Trina retorted in the manner of a child trying to justify why she should be allowed lollies.

"Only when they're offered - my will-power works well enough for me not to ask for them, but I don't usually refuse them when they're offered. You wave them under my face and push them into my hands! But it's still a gross habit!"

"Hey, Draco," Trina said, turning her attention away from Tony, "what are wizard smokes like? Do they have colours? Or different flavours? Oh, you wizards have smokes that are healthy!"

Draco grinned in a stupor, and could no longer be bothered shaking his hair out of his eyes. "Uh, no. We have lotsha dif'rent kinds, but not healthy ones yet!"

Trina looked thoroughly disappointed.

Draco when drunk, it appeared, was not prone to the affection that characterised Tony and Trina, but he grew to be more chatty, approachable, and - unfortunately for him - unscrupulously honest.

"So, Draco," Trina said conversationally, bringing her chair closer to the corner of the table and draping a friendly affectionate arm over his shoulders, "why are you such an arse?"

Tony wasn't the only one who found Trina's directness extremely funny - Draco was also laughing; not offended at all, and in his current state didn't find anything amiss with having an arm draped across him in conversation.

"Why not?" he said, rhetorically.

"Hey, that's my line," Tony said with a smile. "But really, you have to have a reason. Why do you keep a spare wand up your arse? Or whatever it is that makes you a bitter and twisted old hag?"

Draco laughed again with his drinking companions, and replied between giggles, "Aside from being bitterly jealous of Potter and his popularity, I suppose it's just because I have to."

"Why?" queried Trina. "Oh! I know! You're under a hex where you self-destruct if you do something nice!"

All three heartily laughed again, and Draco said, "Close. Just coz... I guess... well, like anyone, I am parsha- parsh- partial, to getting what I want. And people expect me to, as well. And I can't disappoint, can I?" He fluttered his eyelashes innocently and leaned towards Tony, tipping his chair onto two legs. This gesture because less endearing and more hilarious when the chair unbalanced and slid out entirely from underneath him.

This was apparently the most funny thing to happen yet, and as Tony stumbled out of her own chair to help the grinning Slytherin up, she agreed, "No, a disappointing Draco is...well, disappointing."

This was apparently not a good thing to say, because no sooner had she uttered the not-so-poignant comment, she and Draco laughed so hard that trying to get up off the floor was quite pointless, and when Trina leaned down to look at them she too feel off her chair - although it was difficult to tell if this had been a genuine fall or if she had done it deliberately for the sake of joining in.

"Ok, now, you three," came the friendly but firm voice of Matt. "I think you've had enough of your Christmas Puddin' Cheer for tonight. How about you go back up to you rooms, now, eh?"

Trina looked up at the smiling bartender from the floor. "I like you, Matt. You're cool. You're a good guy."

"And you're not fit for another drink," Matt replied, as he gently hoisted her up from the floor, where she swayed unsteadily on her feet - again, something that she found incredibly funny.

Because Tony and Draco had apparently both been trying to use each other to pull themselves up, this resulted in little more than just becoming a tangled mess on the floor, so Matt once again assisted his patrons to find their feet.

"Now, are you alright to get to your rooms by yourself?" Matt asked. "You could take the lift, if you're too dangerous on the stairs."

If Trina and I take the lift," Tony said, "we might puke in it. We hate those things when we're sober - I shudder to think what that horror of a thing would be like now."

"If you're sure," Matt said. "Just be careful going upstairs, eh? We don't want you to take a fall."

"Right," Tony assured him, "we'll be careful."

They managed to stumble out of the bar by themselves and get to the bottom of the stairs when Trina leaned against the wall in little giggles as she said, "Did you see his pants? So not cool pants! Draco, you may be an arse but you have good pants..."

"C'mon," Tony coaxed and she tried to pull her friend back up. Tony always did have the tendency to easily overcome alcohol influence when she consciously tried - much like the way she could change moods in the space of a second, she could also leave the blatantly drunken state when she was bored of it, or if it was necessary. And the idea of falling down two flights of stairs definitely made at least some element of soberness necessary.

It was a gradual process - getting up those stairs without Trina stopping every few steps to recount the night's events. When they finally reached their rooms, and Draco looked to be opening his door and trying to walk through it at the same time, Tony was ushering Trina through the other, as Trina said more loudly than she should have, "Merry Christmas Puddin', every one...."

~<>~

"Ah, Severus," said Lucius Malfoy, who was perched pompously in the seat formerly occupied by Dumbledore in his office. An empty perch stood next to him, as Dumbledore's phoenix, Fawkes, no longer wished to be present, and nor was he welcome.

"You did send for me, Lucius?" Severus Snape asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Indeed," concurred the new headmaster, and he lowered the quill he had been holding. He motioned to one of the seats in front of his desk and after a moment's hesitation Snape sat.

"You have altered the curriculum of the Defence Against the Dark Arts, I assume," Snape started.

"Just a little," Lucius replied, with a small smirk tugging at side of his lips. "Not enough to arouse much suspicion, of course."

"What is it you've done?" questioned Snape, and then, worried that he'd sounded too concerned or accusing, added, "One would assume I need to know, in order to teach it."

"And naturally you would be an excellent teacher in the Dark Arts field," stated Lucius Malfoy. "Of course, I have not made a curriculum to teach false things, so there need be no fear of that, although I'm sure many of the children have already concluded I would do such things." The corner of his mouth ticked again, at this concept. "Undoubtedly, many of them have put their parents on guard as we speak. Indeed, any attempt to sabotage the teachings of safety against the Dark Arts would be immediately attacked by the Ministry, and would naturally be so dark in obvious intent that the school and it's management would be thoroughly interrogated. No, it would be foolish indeed to service our Lord that way. I have merely...rearranged priorities, shall we say."

Severus Snape's face remained impassive, as always. "A well-planned approach," he credited the idea. "And what of my Potions class?"

"I have no reservations that Brian Zabini will work at his utmost in the service of this school and of his former house," concluded Mr Malfoy.

Snape processed these words carefully in his mind to realise that Zabini, as a faithful ex-Slytherin, would be utilised in his full capacity to work in the way Lucius willed. Snape trusted that Lucius' faith in Brian Zabini's capabilities was not misplaced.

"He was always gifted in the field," Lucius said, by way of reassurance, "and I have no doubt he will handle your class very well, under your expert supervision of curriculum, of course."

"Certainly," concurred Snape. "When may we expect him?"

"Mr Zabini will be arriving shortly - I presume he is here already, in fact. I have given instruction that he be shown in here when his quarters have been settled."

Snape raised an eyebrow subtly in surprise. "And the length of his stay?"

"At this stage the life of his services to us remain unknown, Severus," said Lucius Malfoy. "It may be that the time should come when his teaching of the class is recognised as a more long-term commitment...should you be elevated to a new level of authority and rank, in offices not respected here. After all, my son is not the only one possessing a ripe opportunity to serve." Snape remained quiet. "Everything is working according to plan, Severus," said Lucius Malfoy, with a sadistic smile. "We should pride ourselves in the knowledge we may hold the key to our Lord's greatest victory thus far. And once Hogwarts is no longer impervious to his influence, the problem of Potter should be greatly diminished."

It was at this time that a tentative knock sounded, followed by one of more confidence.

Lucius looked at Snape with a knowing look of superiority as he called, 'Come in.'

This was undoubtedly Brian Zabini; Snape recognised him. Parts of his face remarkably resembled that of his younger brother, Blaise. They had the same messy dark hair - almost black, rather like Potter's, Snape realised with an inward smile of amusement. His eyes were of a dark brown, and his nose rather narrow. The set of his mouth and chin showed an authoritative determination that assured Snape his post was not being taken lightly, and the Potions class just may be in competent hands.

"Mr Zabini," Lucius said loftily, and motioned to the empty seat beside Snape. Brian took it.

Good Evening, Mr Malfoy," he said, and added with a bemused smile, as an afterthought, "Headmaster."

"Undoubtedly you remember Severus Snape, Zabini..." said Lucius, dipping his head to Snape.

"Professor Snape," Brian Zabini said by way of acknowledgement. "Rest assured I will devote my full efforts to maintaining your class to the standard you have kept it."

"I'm sure you will," said Snape, although he sounded a little reserved, as if unsure it was the truth.

"Severus," Lucius addressed the new Defence teacher, "Mr Zabini has been placed in the West tower next to the statue of Paul the Portentous. I will here discuss with him the implications and responsibilities of teaching your class, and the curriculum."

Snape recognised the obvious dismissal. He nodded assertively, and stood. He strode to the door and opened it, before turning back with a grim smile, "I await details of the...curriculum, in the coming days. Good-day, Lucius."

With that he walked out the door and closed it behind him, leaving a very sadistically satisfied-looking Lucius Malfoy in his wake to discuss matters with the new Potions teacher.

Severus Snape has his own curriculum to write, in the shadows.

~<>~

The first thing Tony noticed was the violent morning light seeping through her lashes. The next thing she noticed was the headache that followed it. She groaned.

"Not feeling so great?" said Trina.

If Tony had been feeling normal, it would occurred to her to be incredibly surprised that Trina was up before her, but as it was, there was a more pressing matter on her mind. A thumping, aching, pressing matter. She felt decidedly unimpressed. In the past she had prided herself on the fact she didn't get hangovers following a night's drinking - merely a feeling of dehydration. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut against the light.

She was relieved to discover that with every passing second of consciousness her headache receded a little, until it was finally a dull ache in her right temple. Morning-itis, she concluded.

"Here, I know you'll want this to fix you up," Trina said, as she shoved something cold into Tony's hand.

Tony lifted the glass of cold water to her lips, and felt the relief as the soothing liquid waded down her throat. After the hydration top-up, she was satisfied to have the familiar drinking-consequence of only a slight aversion to bright light, and a lethargic demeanour. Which, in truth, she had every morning anyway.

She sat up to see Trina fully dressed (now the full surprise registered) and that Trina was the only other person in the room.

"Where's Hermione? Am I the last one up?" Tony didn't even remember a time when she was the last person up.

"'Course Hermione's up - what else would you expect from someone like her? I expect she's downstairs with Harry. Ron's still snoring something terrible next door, apparently."

"And Draco?"

Trina smiled at this. "I'm guessing he's too zonked to care. Probably still in a comatose sleep."

Tony smiled as much as an early-morning attitude would allow her, and said, "It was an interesting night, last night, wasn't it?"

"It wasn't exactly clubbing," Trina said, "but yeah, it was fun."

"I wonder if Draco will remember much of it, or if he's one of those people who just have a blank slate of all the time they were trolleyed."

"I guess we'll see later," Trina said, sitting on her bed. "You realise we can't drive, don't you?"

"Oh, yeah," Tony said blearily, absently scratching her right forearm lazily as she noted Trina had refilled their water bottles too. "A sleep doesn't fix a drunk, and all that..."

"Yeah, 'all that'," said Trina. "Unless you're keen to relive the accident. And it sounded terrible to the others when we mentioned it on Marine Parade, and if you were as unlucky as I was, and actually remembered it, you wouldn't go near the idea of driving after just a sleep."

"Yeah, yeah, relax," said Tony, perhaps a little grumpily. "I hadn't suggested jumping behind the wheel to enact a Formula 1, did I?"

"No more alcohol, and we'll leave tonight," Trina concluded. "I'm going downstairs to check my e-mail." She briskly got up and left the room.

"Where did I get the stupid idea that my mother's spirit would stay at home...?" Tony muttered as she dragged herself out of bed to have a shower in the bathroom across the hall, and get dressed.

After dressing she picked up her water bottle in case she needed another drink later, and headed out her door, pulling it shut behind her and locking it with her key.

Just after the 'click' sounded from her door, a slightly rumpled-looking Ron emerged from the door next to her.

"Hey," said Tony, half in greeting, half in surprise. "I think Harry and Hermione are still downstairs in the lounge."

Ron grunted in response and rubbed his eyes. "Okay."

"Is Draco still in there?" Tony said as Ron started to turn away.

"Uh..." Ron looked as though any form of thought pained him. He obviously wasn't a morning person either. "Yeah, thankfully he's not up and ready to annoy us all. He came in as quietly as a rampaging hippogriff last night. Did you and Trina get him drunk?"

"Little bit," confessed Tony. "It was more Trina's idea, really, I was going to stop the bartender from serving him." This information didn't seem to improve the worsened opinion of Tony that Ron seemed to have developed since learning she liked the bane of his life.

Ron simply continued to head towards the lift.

Instead of following him down to the lounge, Tony gently pushed open the door to the boy's room.

"Hey, Drunken-Draco...?" she whispered as she entered.

A deep dissatisfied groan came from a bundle of blankets on the stand-alone bed. The room itself was still fairly dark - the curtains remained shut, so the only light was what was able to filter through them.

Tony squatted down on the floor alongside the groaning bundle, and gave it a poke. A disgruntled head appeared, and for a moment it was all Tony could do to keep from laughing at the sight of the usually-impeccably-tidy hair pillowed up all over his head.

"You did this to me," Draco grumbled past his tongue thick with dehydration. "Bad feeling...evil..."

"Here, drink some of this," Tony said, pulling folds of blanket away from his face and handing him her water bottle. "It'll make you feel better."

Draco apparently didn't take her word for it. After all, last time he'd drunk something at her recommendation, this was where it had brought him.

"I promise," urged Tony. "This doesn't have alcohol in it. It's just water. You'll feel better once you're hydrated. It's the muggle way of dealing with hangovers. This, and a good breakfast."

The bundle of blankets moved for a while before a pale hand found its way out and grasped the bottle of water. Draco accidentally got a few drops of water on his face before it got near to getting in his mouth, so Tony put her arm around the thick fluffy bundle and propped him up a bit.

"Sit up, that way you'll actually get a drink, rather than having to rely on osmosis to get you hydrated."

Draco, now appearing to be more able to cope with having his eyes open, clumsily sat up and drank. He'd had a good half a bottle before taking a breath.

"There," Tony said, satisfied. "I know that wouldn't have fixed it, considering you probably don't have the affinity with alcohol that Trina and I do, so your system would have a lot of work coping, but it would have helped."

Draco looked like he didn't know whether to be grateful for the drink, or to be indignant that Tony had implied he was an innocent non-drinking schoolboy. He settled for a Goyle-like grunt.

"Trina and I hired towels and other shower stuff last night," Tony was saying, as she put something down on the floor next to his bed. "Here's some for you. The bathroom is directly across the hall. You'll need a shower to get rid of the booze-smell. Everyone else is showered and downstairs - well, Ron hasn't showered yet on account of the fact he'd probably drown if he tried in his current state - come down when you're ready."

She stood up and headed for the door. When she reached it, she turned back and questioned, "Do you happen to remember anything of last night?"

Draco merely rolled over.

Almost as soon as she reached the lounge she was called by a loud, "Tony!" coming from the cybercafé at its end. She made her way past various patrons and backpackers who were staring openly at her unusual hair colour, until she came alongside Trina, who was looking at her excitedly.

"What?"

"I have an email from Tonia!" Trina was saying excitedly. Antonia was her big sister, who lived in Auckland with her boyfriend, Gavin.

"I suppose she's insisting on seeing you before you head off overseas?" Tony said. "That'll make keeping the others under wraps rather difficult."

"They're not in Auckland right now," Trina said, rather tensely Tony thought, before continuing, "they're in the South Island, but Tonia wrote to say that we could stay in their flat instead of paying for accommodation up there which you know would be more expensive than saving a third world country."

"Really?" Tony said eagerly, leaning forward to see the computer screen. "That would be really good. A little cramped perhaps, or a lot cramped, but still, it'll be good to have the place to stay in."

"Shall we try and get there tonight?" Trina asked. "I mean, if we leave after tea today, and didn't make any stops on the way to Auckland - the others have already made it quite clear what they think of our casual sight-seeing - we'd get there about...midnight? Approximately. We could take turns driving, if you like. It would just be cheaper than having to fork out for another motel or something. Plus, the others are getting cranky."

"Ok, we'll try to do that," Tony agreed. "Well have tea here, and then pack up and leave."

"So we just have a day to kill here. I can take the others out somewhere if they get bored staying around here. Mind you, Hermione looked pretty comfortable just looking through the many brochures of New Zealand's attractions."

"Well, she would, wouldn't she?" Tony said as if this was obvious. "I mean, it's reading material, at any rate. She'd gravitate to it."

"You want to check your email? I have a quarter hour of time left that I don't need."

"Thanks," Tony said, and took Trina's seat at the computer. "I'll go onto TradeMe too - I need to see how the auctions for my computer and car are going. After all, we don't have much time left for me to get rid of those."

"Just don't let any of the others see any fanfiction sites on there. You know what sort of dodgy things get on those."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Tony assured her. "We have enough expenses currently on our hands without having to worry about therapist bills."

With the question of Auckland accommodation solved, Tony found it a lot easier to relax, and she was determined to relieve some of her stress throughout the day. Perhaps she would lazily watch TV or play pool on one of the available tables. Whatever she did, she was resolved that for the day she would relinquish the role of Tour-Guide Babysitter.