Millicent and the Dingle
Aberforth finished pouring out the drinks and Harold levitated them over one by one to sit on the table between him and Millicent. "You like fire, huh? Well, get a load of this," he said, smirking as he knocked back most of the rum, leaving a third left in the shot glass. He smacked his lips before expertly and slowly tipping the rum across the surface of the Amaretto so that it floated. Holding his wand to the separated liquid, he muttered a small incendiary charm to set the alcohol on fire. Lining up the pint of beer in front of them, he lifted the shot glass carefully and met Millicent's eyes with an excited bob of his brows. "You're supposed to blow this out first, but it's way more fucking interesting if you don't."
Then he dropped the shot into the beer, the entire pint setting on fire, a bright blue flame flickering across the top of the glass. Aberforth kept a close eye on Harold's antics, but he wasn't setting fire to anything to cause too much damage, so he left him to it. "Right," he said, pushing the pint towards Millicent. "Now, blow it out and drink."
He went back to counting the coins, piling them into small stacks of separate denominations, pleased that there were so many Galleons. Cards was a nice little earner when the curse-breaking jobs slacked off. "S'that curfew, ain't it? Pushing the drinking time up earlier." Squinting curiously, Harold asked, "When was you here last?"