1 year later....

Spike walked into the Hog's Head, his long leather black coat sliding on the floor. He was all dressed in black, his platinum blonde hair and pale skin making his stick out like usual. By the way he walked and the way he held himself you could tell that he had been drink already. Probably kicked out of one bar already and now coming to another. The man behind the counter eyeing him as he came to the counter. Spike sat down on the nearest stool and looked up at the barman. "A Firewhiskey please, Mate." Spike said, slurring his words and pulling out a couple of pieces of magic money. (Couldn't rememeber the names right now) The barman didn't feel like dealing with any trouble today, but Spike was able to pay so he got him the drink anyways. The barman slid a dirty cup filled with firewhiskey over to Spike. Spike picked up the cup and brought it to his lips and paused before drinking it. He sighed, closed his eyes, then started to drink. He didn't put the cup down till it was half gone. Once he did put it down he hunched over, ready to be there for most of the night.

Leaila had been in Hogsmeade for a while, with May. But one of her friends had come to pick her up a short while ago. Well May called him her friend, but Leaila knew she was dating the boy. She told her to have fun and to not do anything reckless, and she left with him. Leaila had her doubts about the boy, but if he made May happy, she wasn't going to intervine with their love. Now she was alone, so she decided to go into the Hog's Head. She walked in and moved toward the counter. She smiled at the bartender. "One butterbeer please." she said. He nodded and gave her the butterbeer. She gave him the galleons for it and sat down a stool. She drank her butterbeer slowly and looked at the man next to her. He seemed very drunk and he was still drinking now. Leaila didn't like that, she didn't even like drinking very much. She didn't say anything though, not yet at least.

Spike was to drunk to realize that a woman had come and sat next to him. He pulled the cup up to his lips again and took a deep gulp again, almost drinking the rest. Spike pulled out another handful of magic money for the next drink he was going to order. The barman saw this and knew that if he drank anymore he would be crawling out of here. The barman walked over to him, "You trying to kill your self or something. You look like you've had enough to drink, why don't you go on home now." The barman said pushing Spikes magic money back at him. Spike looked up from his almost empty cup and glared at the barman. "I'm a paying customer. It shouldn't matter if I do want to kill myself. I want my drink now get it." Spike said finishing off his drink. She slammed the cup down, splashing drink all over the place. Spike then pushed the magic money back at the guy, slipping as he did and making the money fly over the counter and at the barman. The barman looked furious now.

"Come now, sir," Paris called out to the bartender from where he sat at the farther side of the bar. He sat up from his original, slouched position, and removed his chin from his palm for a moment to watch the sloppy movements of the man who'd been denied another drink. It was quite evident that the fellow had already had enough to drink, and that the bartender had been right in turning him down, but Paris had quickly grown board of sitting on his own, and found the other man's situation to be quite entertaining.

With a wide grin and a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, Paris shifted on the bar stool that he occupied, and leaned further in the direction of the bartender on the opposite side of the long, splintering table, "If you will not allow this man another drink, then I will have another. Clearly, I am not drunk, and I do not plan on getting drunk at any point or time this evening, as I will be sharing my next few bottles of firewhiskey with this kind fellow here. You would not deny me the right to share my purchases, would you? Even if the person that I choose to drink with happens to be a bit tipsy?" Paris spoke in a tone that betrayed his amusement - though his grin had done that job well enough. "I understand that there are limits, and that your hands are tied, but I haven't exceeded any of them, have I?"

Paris tilted his head slightly, and looked the bartender square in the eyes for good measure.

"P-l-e-a-s-e?" he begged jokingly.

"One bottle of firewhiskey to start - OH, OH - and I would like a basket of bread, if you would. Just a bit of butter," Paris requested, and gestured with his index finger and his thumb when he mentioned the amount of butter that he wanted to be included with his order. "Merci!"

Spike looked up at the guy who just got the bartender to get more drinks. Spike was a little bit shocked that he would be so kind as to get more drinks and share it with him. Of course he would have been even more shocked about it if he wasn't so drunk. So Spike slowly gets off his stool and wobbles over to the new guy that got him the more drinks. He sits down sloppily on the stool next to the guy and puts his arms on the bar while looking at the guy. "Thanks Mate. But why are you being so nice and getting me more drinks?" Spike said slurring his words while he talked. Most of the time when Spike was at a bar and the bartender thought that he had had to much to drink and that he should go home, he usually was to drunk and needed to go home. No one would speak up and help him or even try and help him home or anything. So for this guy to help Spike get more drinks, it made Spike happy. Of course most of the time when Spike knew that he had had to much and needed to go home he would, but today was different. He didn't care what happen to him, weather he drank to much and passed out and woke up naked in the back alley of some place he didn't know or he someone killed him because he did something he wasn't suppose to. Today was the 1 year anniversery after his ex=girlfriend had died. He believed it was his fault and he just wanted to not have to feel that pain anymore.

While wearing an expression of mock surprise, Paris inhaled a sharp breath of air and brought a hand to his chest, as though the last thing he'd expected had been the disbelief of the drunken man.

Though the question that he'd been asked was simple and straightforward (when the slurred way in which it'd been spoken aloud was overlooked, of course) Paris found the opportunity to respond in a way that would amuse himself, irresistible. "Can't I share a drink with someone from time to time? Why must you interrogate me, when all I have done is offered you a bottle of whiskey?" Paris inquired.

Despite his efforts to remain straight-faced, a fit of laughter soon followed his words.

Paris was his own laughter track.

Having given himself away with such a reaction, Paris decided upon providing the stranger with an honest explanation. "I'm bored; I don't enjoy wizard-made alcohol, and I'm in a bar. I could use a conversation or two." Bien que je ne suis pas certain que je vais comprendre tout ce que vous dites, à ce stade he added inwardly.