It was late when she entered The Hog’s Head. Only a couple of very drunken patrons remained, all huddled near the dusty fire place.  Malfoy sat curled like a dragon over his whiskey towards the back of the room, easily spotted. He made no attempts to blend in; people like Malfoy did not lower themselves to do such a thing. He simply ignored everyone else, sitting as if he owned the place and lazily rolling the glass in his hand, watching the amber liquid dance.