Chilled Legacy

Chilled Legacy XIII

Harry snapped out of the train wreck of thoughts, and instead wondered if the way back to the common room had always been so long.

A small figure spotted them as they turned the corner. "And it's about to get way longer," he mumbled.

"There you are," Astoria said mostly to Hermione. She walked up to them, a haunting look on her face. "By any chance did anything...strange happen in the last hour?"

The trio exchanged a look. "Strange how?"

She didn't answer right away, thinking about how to word it. "In what state was Draco exactly when you found him?"

No one said anything.

"I just saw him walk out of the room of hidden things with Luna and Neville," Astoria continued, beginning to nervously twirl her hair. Whatever she had seen it can't have been good. "He was carrying a bunch of random documents and..."

"Go on," Hermione said reassuringly.

No, they weren't ones to gossip, Harry thought, but I'll gladly stomp on Draco's head when he's reaching for a hand getting up.

"He was laughing in a sort of—you could say—alarming manner and carrying an even more alarming amount Trelawney's sherry bottles with him...chugging one down as they walked."

"Luna and Neville—wait—they're just following him?!" Hermione asked.

"Trelawney hides Sherry? Where?" Ron asked.

Astoria nodded, ignoring Ron. "I thought I'd find you before making any sudden moves. I've never seen him looks so insane. The posters must've really gotten to him."

Right, the posters.

"Where were they headed?" Harry asked.

Astoria described the location—two lefts, up the stairs, to the right—perplexed as to where they could've gone.

"Music room," Ron said. "It's well hidden, but it's there."

"Hogwarts has a music room?"

***

Back in fourth year Draco had snuck plenty of liquor bottles from his parents' cellar. He was the one in charge of drinks at every end of summer party, partly because he had more money than he knew what to do with, but also because Crabbe and Goyle—who couldn't tell one end of a broomstick from the other—always got caught in the act.
Even so, he'd never partaken in the madness that followed the celebration. The furthest he'd ever gotten was experiencing lightheadedness and maybe slightly blurred vision.
But damn was the room spinning.
Or maybe it was him.

He hadn't actually eaten anything today, and just the one bottle was all it took.

Draco felt the gush of reckless speed of ridding his broom upside down.

They'd only just started to look over the riddle and he was finally acting stupid enough that Luna was able to take the bottle from him without Draco noticing. This hadn't been part of the plan—Draco honestly wanted to crack the code—but the more Neville told him not to do it, the more he had to.

"You're not my boss, Longbottom," he'd told him back at the room of requirements.

When Neville didn't reply, Draco snuck into his thoughts again.

No, but I am your friend.

This only caused him to grab more bottles.

Now that his tongue had loosened, occasional snippets of his own thoughts would slip, some more coherent than others, but none that he would remember tomorrow.