There was an unusual stir inside of Harry as everybody went downstairs to the pub for a drink, which always ended up being two or three. Harry had no idea where he was going, he would call into a local hostel to live it low for the night.  He had decided that he had enough to drink and needed time to sink in the stories he had heard. The first reading was about a little boy travelling on the train with his pet turtle. The second was a poem about Spain. The third was a piece on how two men accidentally had sex with each other, which set Draco off: 'that's not how the male body works.' 

The other two readings were two short stories about Spain. One was set in an Ibiza club and the other was set in Bilbao. He pictured Spain's white beaches and colourful bars in the stories. Spain was the theme of the month for the group. They were planning on creating an anthology of works all around the world. 

Nothing was forbidden to write and read during the writing group. The only thing that wasn't allowed was talk about politics or Brexit. One guy was kicked out of the pub earlier this afternoon for ranting and raving like a lunatic over Brexit. 

Draco followed Harry out of the pub. "So how did you find it?" 

"It was okay."

Draco titled his head. "Just okay?" 

"I enjoyed it more than I thought I would." 

"Would you come again?" 

"...Yeah."

"Do you think you'll write anything?" 

Harry shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know." 

"I might read something I wrote next time." 

Harry wondered what sort of stuff Draco would be writing about. He couldn't see Draco writing anything erotic, but he could see Draco being the type of person dwelling on dark poetry one would find on a rock record. "Why didn't you read anything out this time?" 

"I didn't think it was ready," Draco said. "It needs a lot of editing." 

"Now I'm curious," Harry said without thinking.