AUTHOR'S NOTE: GET READY DRARRY FANS THIS CHAPTER'S FOR YOU
Chapter Ten: Ruth The Goat's Bar Incident
Mid-Day Thursday (5 hours after the Diagon Alley Incident)
Ron threw down his quill and let out a loud happy sigh looking like the happiest motherfucker that ever fucked. He was sitting in the eating hall with his two best friends and they were all bent over textbooks or reading material of some kind for Hermione had finished her assignments an hour ago and had started reading the paper.
"What are you so happy about?" Hermione said from behind the Daily Prophet.
"Why shouldn't I be happy?" Ron asked. "The sun is shining, five Death Eaters got killed today, it's Thursday which means it's only one more half-day until the weekend, there's a good possibility that Malfoy is dead and or at least crying, and as of right this second, I am officially all caught up with my homework."
Hermione lifted her head with intrigue. "Really?"
"Yep," Ron said, showing his scribbled-up papers as proof. "I did the easy assignments when I got them and worked on the tedious projects ahead of time instead of procrastinating."
Harry scoffed at him in mock disgust. "It's like I don't even know you."
"I wanted the freedom, mate. I wanted to get off of class at noon tomorrow and know that I'll have sixty hours of not having to do anything to look forward to."
"Well, unless you get assigned more homework by your other two classes," Hermione replied.
"Eh, I'll do it right before class Monday." Ron shrugged. He looked up at the glass ceiling which bore a beautiful, clear, cloudless Fall sky and inhaled deeply. "It's a good day."
"You know what? I agree, Ron. It is a good day." Harry said, closing his textbook. "We should do something to celebrate this good day."
"I agree even more," Ron said.
They shared a look then a knowing smile.
"We should go drinking," Ron said.
"Yes. Also, we should go to that bar that has the goat!" Harry cried.
Simultaneously, they looked over at Hermione, seeking approval.
Hermione sat there, mouth opened, hands still wrapped around the paper. A reluctant smile came to her lips. "Screw it. Ron's right. It is a good day." She folded the section she was reading and held it up for them, pointing to a headline that read: HISTORIC 2,000 YEAR LAW OVERTURNED GRANTING INTERSPECIES ADOPTION
"Wait, that was illegal?" Harry asked. Then he asked, more emotionally, "Is that Hagrid never adopted me? Is that why I'm still at the Dursleys?!"
"Don't worry mate. The second you turn seventeen, we're burning that shithole house to the ground," avowed Ron.
"You're the best Ron and I fucking love you," Harry said, dapping him. "But also—are we really doing this?"
They glanced around to see they were all grins.
When they apparated to Hogwarts' Gates, Snape and Draco landed on their feet. Ariel landed on her knees. Concerned, Snape rushed to her aid but she pushed him away so she could hunch over the ground pull her red hair by her nape and vomit in the dirt road.
"I think I'm good," she said in a raspy pant after she coughed out the remnants.
"If it makes you feel any better, lots of people get motion sickness when they apparate for the first time." Draco offered as he and Snape helped her to her feet.
But Ariel's spit-covered bottom lip quivered. "That wasn't from motion sickness."
She rushed to the gate, trailed by Snape. By the time he reached her side, she had her head bent into her hands, shoulders shaking as she let out a tiny, peep of a cry.
Draco watched, numbly, as Snape whispered something into her ear. Ennui swam through him like a virus. Here was this woman, the only person in the world who could possibly be spared by the Dark Lord's bloodlust, sobbing, looking utterly sick with fear. He knew the sounds of utter, hopeless fear. He knew those frightened tears like sleet or rain. But if she—Lady Ariel, Miss Hero, the Dark Lord's Favorite—was scared shitless, how was there any hope for him and his family?
Suddenly, it all became too much. And Draco, without thinking, pushed his weight into his black leather shoes and ran off in the opposite direction of the gates, ignoring his godfather's voice calling for him to turn back as he bolted into the 2 am night.
The dank, old wizard's bar with the sticky floors covered in hay and trace amounts of goat feces was, unsurprisingly, dead. With the exception of Harry, Ron, and Hermione of course who walked into the seedy establishment hours ago, providing that grubby bar with the welcoming sight of profits.
Harry was on the ground, against the wall, feeding carrot sticks to a stinky old goat who wandered the bar freely. Unlike Ron and Hermione, who flirted at each other from a nearby booth, he wasn't drunk. His second drink of the night sat barely touched on the floor next time him. He wouldn't have gotten it had a tipsy Hermione not insisted on buying him one, having observed that he had been "nursing that beer all night".
"That's alcohol abuse, you know." Hermione pointed out, referring to his untouched Butterbeer.
"Fine, then you drink it," Harry replied, handing her the drink.
"Fine," Hermione shrugged before she tossed the liquid back. She gulped it down in seconds and came back up to the sound of her two best friends' cheers.
"Bloody hell, Hermione," Ron said, half-surprised and half-impressed.
"What?" She demanded her voice unintentionally louder as she slammed the empty glass down on the table. "Nerds can be fun too. Right, Harry?"
"Did you hear that Ruth?" Harry asked his new goat friend, with mock dismay. "That dweeb over there has the audacity to call me a nerd."
"Yep," Hermione smirked. She pulled her wand from her pocket and asked, "Wanna duel about it?"
"Nope," Harry replied quickly. "I am good. You win."
Hermione let out an uproarious laugh. Then she propped her fist under her chin, turned her glassy eyes onto Ron and asked, coaxingly, "What about you, Ronald? Are you going to defend your best friend's honor and fight me?"
"Nope," Ron said. "I'm not spending the weekend at the infirmary. No offense mate but fuck your honor."
"No offense taken, mate." Harry agreed, turning his attention back to scratching the area behind Ruth's pointy ears.
"You two suck," Hermione said with a pout, stuffing her wand back with mild disappointment.
Harry looked at Ruth then Ron, shaking his head. "She's such a mean drunk." He whispered at Ron, playfully.
"I am not a mean drunk," Hermione protested.
Ron snickered. "Yeah, you're just mean in general." Hermione's retort came as a smack to the upper arm. "Ow!" He addressed Ruth, saying, "Do you see this abuse?"
Ruth bleated, lazily, as if to say, I'm just a goat what do you want me to do?
The timing of Ruth's bleat sent the Golden Trio into a fit of giggles.
"Oh crap," Hermione remarked once the laughter died done and she lifted her wrist to check the time. "It's 2:30."
"Fuck," Harry and Ron groaned.
"We should go," Hermione said, standing to put on her coat.
The three of them got dressed, paid their tab, said their goodbyes to Ruth, and were on their way out of the door, to brave the brisk blackened trip back to Hogwarts. Harry was the last one to exit the bar but, when he turned to follow Ron and Hermione, he felt his body collide into someone else's.
He barely had time to apologize to the person when he lifted his head and discovered he had run into, who else, but Draco Malfoy.
"Walk much, Potter?" Draco sneered before he shouldered past Harry and rushed into the bar's entrance.
"Fuck your entire fucking life, Malfoy!" Harry howled but his words were met with the sound of the establishment's door slamming Draco inside. He turned to his best friends, nettled and shaking. He could feel his wand sitting in the pocket of his coat, begging to be used.
Hermione and Ron glared at the closed door, their nostrils flared, breathing hard.
"He would skip school all day to go drink alone," Ron seethed. "Fucking loser."
"C'mon guys," Hermione said with a hardness in her voice that signaled she was struggling to calm herself down. "That menstrual cramp of a boy isn't worth it."
"Disagree," Harry stated. He was still glaring at the entranceway. Only his mind was racing. He looked to his friends and said, "You guys go ahead."
"Harry," Ron began, sobered. "Hermione's right. He's not worth it. Let's just go back to the dorms."
"You two can go back," Harry insisted, his feet turned sideways, towards the bar. "I'll be there soon."
Hermione charged towards him, mouth opened, ready to lecture him into coming with them but then a horrible wrenching noise came out of her. To Harry and Ron's disgust, she was doubled-over, puking up the four Butterbeers and plate of fried pixie fingers she consumed that night.
Ron sighed, rubbed her back with his hand until she picked herself up, and told Harry, as his arm hooked around her elbow and led her down the road back to Hogwarts, "Love you mate."
"Love you guys too," He promised before he headed back inside the bar.
Draco was bellied up at the bar when Harry plopped down on the barstool two down from him and told the scruffy bartender his order.
"Why are you so obsessed with me?" Draco demanded when the bartender handed Harry his drink and left to go restock the Fire Whiskey keg.
Harry scoffed. "Coming from you? That's rich."
"Can you move?" Draco snarled after several moments of intense, hateful silence.
"Make me," Harry replied with a bratty smile just to piss him off further.
He expected Draco to glare at him, berate him, even take out his wand and hex him, which is why Harry kept his free hand in his coat pocket, waiting, ready for the kinetic promise of violence to explode between them. But Draco did none of these things. Instead, he shrugged and turned his attention back to his glass. Harry watched him go to take a sip but stop when he noticed, in utter disgust, a hair swirling around the bubbly amber filled glass.
"For fucks' sake," Draco said with an angry sigh. "Is it so much to ask for a clean glass?" He glanced at Harry's glass and made a grossed-out noise as Harry took another small sip. "How can you drink from that? It looks like it was washed with sand."
Harry shook his head at him. "If you were going to be so uppity about clean glasses, why did you come in here?"
It was a fair question. Nothing about the place, from its sticky hay-covered floors to its rampant zoo-like smells to its unwashed bathrooms to its cobwebbed ceilings and decidedly strange decor, screamed 'come for the cleanliness and ambiance'. It was one of those bars that locals loved because it was gross, it's old, it's without pretense, and you could disappear in the corners with your troubles and a pint of beer without having to pretend to be anything you're not.
Draco shrugged, though he knew exactly why he was there. He was there because he needed to disappear and Potter wasn't letting him. He got up and took his drink to the far end of the establishment where he took the first least messy table he could find.
Harry followed him and slide into an unoccupied booth directly in front of Draco.
"Can you fuck off?" Draco snapped.
"I will if you tell me about Voldemort's plans," Harry said.
Draco had to will himself not to flinch at the sound of the Dark Lord's name. A cold chill came over him as the images of previous nights' events replayed in his head. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Potter." He replied coolly, taking a swig from his glass. "I don't work for the Dark Lord."
"You're so full of shit, Draco," Harry said. Then he smiled. "I bet he was furious today that he lost five members."
"Wouldn't know."
"Yeah, I bet you don't. So, where were you all day? Pretty weird that you're out of school all day the same day five Death Eaters are murdered."
Draco gave him a shark-like grin. "Potter, you noticed I was out sick today?" He reached to his collarbone, feigning endearment. "I'm deeply flattered by how much you care about me."
"Suck my dick, Draco."
"Oh, I bet you would love that," Draco said, his voice a salacious whisper, as he rose from his table and walked towards Harry. He noticed the discomfort in Harry's green eyes as he dipped into the booth and took an unclaimed spot across from him.
Harry's eyes narrowed but then he rolled them, as if suddenly too mature for bickering and petty insults. "It's a figure of speech, pervert."
"Oh, don't be such a prude, Potter," Draco replied coyly, inching closer towards him, reveling in the discomfort he was sure to create. "There's no shame in desiring other men."
Harry snapped his neck to glare at Draco only to find that Draco's face was inches from his own. They were so close he could smell the Butterbeer and toothpaste on his breath. Harry felt his throat go dry the longer he stared at Draco's thin mouth which was open slightly from grinning, almost expectantly. Like he knew this would undo him.
But Harry wasn't going to let him win. That's why his left hand started to crawl over Draco's thigh, like a spider waiting to startle an arachnophobe with its presence. He looked into Draco's face, expecting to see fear or disgust, but he was shocked to see Draco's face went slack as he stared down and watched Harry's hand travel over his thigh and find his hardened crotch.
Draco upped the ante by reaching straight for Harry's groin, which tensed and stiffened under his touch.
For a moment, neither of them moved. Their breathing turned shallow as their eyes searched, hesitantly, for the other. Once they found each other's gaze and discovered neither of them was disturbed by what was going on, that's when the fondling began.
Slowly, they rubbed at each other, squirming with delight at other's touch. Their mouths hung open like draw bridges as their breathing went ragged from enflamed desire. It was wonderfully naughty, trying to keep their passions low as they fondled another underneath this grimy booth. There was no one in the bar catch them. The bartender was out on a smoke break and Ruth was napping in a pile of hay. And for a few glorious minutes, they were no longer Harry Potter the boy who lived or Draco Malfoy the boy without options. They were simply two horny teenagers shuddering and gasping, and stealing kisses, in a smelly, dimly lit old wizard's bar.