A/N: This one-shot is written for Sameth Saboly's Pick Up Lines Challenge in which I was given a cute little pick up line to use in my story! The pick up line is in bold. Hope you enjoy. Also, I don't own Harry Potter. But if I did, I would buy a yacht and possibly my own airplane.
Albus Potter’s life was not going according to plan, to say the least. It seemed like all he had to account for was a dingy flat, two divorces, and a tiny cubicle on the fifth floor of the Ministry where he did the most boring and tedious paperwork in the history of boring and tedious paperwork.
These may have been contributing factors as to why twenty-eight year old Al was in an old pub, drinking his sixth (or was it seventh?) firewhisky of the evening.
“Feeling any better?” the old bartender asked as he used a cloth to wipe down an area on the bar where someone had spilled their drink.
“Better?” Al exclaimed, his eyes at half mast. “I feel bloody fantastic!”
“Mate, you are one heaping pile of trouble,” the bartender, whose name was Bernie, responded with a low chuckle.
It wasn’t the first time Bernie had seen Al in his pub. Al came in a couple of times a week, usually after a particularly long day at work. On those days, he would almost always stay until closing time when Bernie would drag him to the fireplace and shove a pinch of Floo powder in his hand. Some days, Al even required assistance to the point that Bernie had to place him in the fireplace and throw the powder for him. Unfortunately, Al had to be the one to say the destination and sometimes the names didn’t come out as clear as they should have. Al had confided in him that sometimes he ended up in some very strange and occasionally quite dodgy places due to his erred Flooing.
“I need a bird,” Al sighed a few minutes later. Despite being rather excited and happy a short time before, he was now looking quite upset and downtrodden.
Bernie, who had just finished making a drink order, looked to Albus with a knowing expression on his face. Al frequently complained about the lack of a woman in his life and he knew how to handle the situation.
“It’s hard to find the right one, don’tchyathink?” Al asked, his words beginning to blur together.
“Right you are, lad,” Bernie replied, reaching over to give Al a pat on the shoulder before leaving to take care of more patrons.
A frown on his face, Al reached up and tugged on his tie, loosening it significantly. He ran a hand through his inky black hair which caused it to stick up in several directions. He looked profoundly disheveled.
Just then, a tall girl with winding brunette hair and vividly blue eyes stepped up to the bar to order a drink. Bernie took the order and she waited, all the while Al stared at her openmouthed. She was stunningly perfect to his eyes. Legs that never seemed to end, the prettiest smile on the planet, and Al decided she was… er, well endowed.
After a few moments, the girl seemed to notice that Al was gaping at her and she turned to face him. She didn’t look peeved at him for the staring, instead she had a kind smile on her face.
“Hi,” she greeted.
Al was about to blurt out something embarrassing like “I love you,” or “Wanna get married and bear my children?” but he managed to hold his tongue just in time. Turning on his famous Potter charm, he sat up straighter and grinned deviously at the girl.
“Hello,” he returned in his most seductive and attractive sounding voice. He was laying it on thick. “I’m Al Potter.”
“Oh! You’re a Potter?” she exclaimed. She was impressed which served to boost Al’s confidence significantly. “I’m Diane Winters.”
She reached out a hand and Al shook it promptly. He sent her a dazzling smile (or what he hoped to be a dazzling smile. It was hard to tell when drunk) and released her hand.
“What brings you here?” he queried of her, taking a sip from his firewhisky.
“I’m here with a few friends,” she answered.
“No boyfriend?” he pressed and she giggled, her cheeks flushing a delicate pink. She shook her head. “Good,” Al concluded.
Bernie brought over her drink then and she was about to reach into her pocket for money, but Al beat her to it, slamming a Galleon onto the table.
“Thank you,” she said sincerely.
He grinned. “Anything for a pretty girl like you.”
“Oh, stop,” she giggled.
“You know, you look just like my third wife,” Al stated, sloppily pointing a finger in her general direction.
“Oh? How many times have you been married?” she asked, a slight frown playing on her rosy pink lips.
He held up two fingers. “Twice.”
She laughed heartily, “You are too much, Mr. Potter.”
“I can’t help it if I’m charming,” he responded with a wink.
A/N: And there it is. If you enjoyed it, or if you didn't, I would lovelovelove a little review from you(: Only takes a couple of seconds... :D
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