"It’s Felix Felicis," he said quickly, finding the dumbest excuse ever, then quickly gathered all the beers and escaped away from the bar. Even the levitating spell couldn’t provide them stability, and the liquid sloshed all around before he finally made it to the table. He handed the drinks out, then sat down on the last unoccupied stool, nursing his own beer. The discussion was flowing around him, and thankfully nobody required his participation, so he could focus fully on watching Parkinson and Potter. They were sitting obnoxiously close to each other, Potter’s arm flung over Parkinson’s shoulder, and honestly, Draco couldn’t wait for the antidote to start working. 