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Lush o'the Irish
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Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Draco
Rating:
Adult
Chapters:
1
Views:
1,559
Reviews:
4
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Draco
Rating:
Adult
Chapters:
1
Views:
1,559
Reviews:
4
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Lush o'the Irish
A/N: HI! I know I'm a day late on this one, but I hope you enjoy it anyways! Thanks to ruinthiell! She's an amazing beta, and can always make me laugh!
I walk into the pub and see him immediately. That damn messy hair that seem so uncontrollable, but gives that just shagged look that I work so hard to achieve when I style my hair.
“Seat taken?”
He turns around and grins. “Of course not.” We kiss and I sit down.
He finally notices my hair.
“What the hell did you do?”
“Don’t like it? It’s the first year I’ve gone all out for St Patrick’s Day, I thought it was a nice touch, it will wash out tomorrow.” I did go all out; green hair, tight green tee shirt and dark wash skinny jeans with my favourite green Chuck Taylors. Unlike my beloved who had borrowed one of my green button downs with his regular jeans.
“Draco…I just can’t believe that you didn’t say it was Slytherin!” He jokes. He’s such a lush that it’s easy to tell that he’s still on his first drink. I grab his pint glass and empty the green ale from it.
“Jay-sus Harry! How long have you been here, that beer was warm!”
Seamus walks up at that point with one of those ridiculous green hats that’s been charmed to sparkle all night long, complete with a “Kiss me I’m Irish” tee. “Draco, good to see you’ve come to support us!” Bugger’s already plastered and it’s only 8 o’clock.
“Right – o Seamus, righto. Hey Harry, wanna dance?”
The music is just starting up and the dance floor is starting to get crowded.
“Sure.”
‘I am an arms dealer
Fitting you with weapons in the form of words
And don't really care which side wins
As long as the room keeps singing
That's just the business I'm in, yeah’
As the bass line kicks in, we get to the dance floor and Harry starts with his innocent little school boy arse shaking. Honestly…I’ll have to teach him how to be a better dancer, but right now, all I want is some dancing that if you subtracted the clothes and added a bed would be sex.
‘This ain't a scene, it's a goddamned arms race
This ain't a scene, it's a goddamned arms race
This ain't a scene, it's a goddamned arms race
I'm not a shoulder to cry on
But I digress’
I grab Harry by the arm and pull him so his back is to me and start to rub up against him so that it looks like we’re dancing…
‘I'm a leading man
And the lies I weave are oh so intricate,
Oh so intricate
I'm a leading man
And the lies I weave are oh so intricate,
Oh so intricate’
He turns his head, in what appears to be rather uncomfortable fashion and takes my lips. I turn him around and we’re snogging. God I’m glad I taught him how to lose his inhibitions.
‘I wrote the gospel on giving up
(You look pretty sinking)
But the real bombshells have already sunk
(Prima donnas of the gutter)
At night we're painting your trash gold while you sleep
Crashing not like hips or hearts,
No, more like p-p-p-parties’
He stops suddenly and decides to break away…this is okay; I’ll see what he has in mind.
‘This ain't a scene, it's a goddamned arms race
This ain't a scene, it's a goddamned arms race
This ain't a scene, it's a goddamned arms race
This bandwagon's full
Please, catch another
I'm a leading man
And the lies I weave are oh so intricate,
Oh so intricate
I'm a leading man
And the lies I weave are oh so intricate,
Oh so intricate’
He’s shaking his hips wildly now, and with each ‘do do do’ he’s twirling and punching the air…perhaps he’s had more to drink than I thought…but a drunk Harry, is an extremely party loving Harry…we’re going back to the bar after this song is done.
‘Yeahh…
Whoa-ohh
All the boys who the dance floor didn't love
And all the girls whose lips couldn't move fast enough
Sing, until your lungs give out’
He knows the spoken part off by heart, and points to me when they speak about unloved boys. He struts back over to be and promptly fixes that statement.
’This ain't a scene, it's a goddamned arms race
This ain't a scene, it's a goddamned arms race
(Now you)
This ain't a scene, it's a goddamned arms race
(Wear out the groove)
This ain't a scene, it's a goddamned arms race
(Sing out loud)
This ain't a scene, it's a goddamned arms race
(Oh, oh)
This ain't a scene, it's a goddamned arms race’
We’re attached at the hip simply grinding and enjoying our selves now. He’s so cute when he doesn’t think people are watching. I’m glad he’s wearing his contacts instead of his glasses tonight. If he was, they would have been flung off along time ago.
’I'm a leading man
And the lies I weave are oh so intricate,
Oh so intricate
I'm a leading man
And the lies I weave are oh so intricate,
Oh so intricate’
The song finishes and I drag him back to our friends at the bar. Seamus is so pickled by this point that Blaise is just eying him in suspense for when they leave and he can shag Seamus senseless.
“Four Fire Whisky’s!” I yell at the bar keep over the music.
“Why four?” Harry asks me.
“Two for me, two for you!”
“DRACO! You’re trying to get me drunk!”
“Your point?”
The shots arrive and I seat two in front of Harry. He gives me a weary eye, but takes one in hand. We shoot them back, feeling the burn, and soon the buzz that only hard liquor can bring. Harry’s eyes are a little less focused now. Good. I like him like that. I order another round and I end up with three and Harry with one because he claims he’s already drunk enough.
Another song comes on the system.
“OH MY GAWD!!! I LOVE THIS SONG!!!” Harry screeches.
Pansy, Ron, Hermione and Blaise chuckle as they all realize what’s happening. Harry grabs mine and Ron’s arm, dragging us to the floor. I realize why he loves this song, it’s “his” song. London Bridge, Fergie. Perfect.
‘Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.
Are you ready for this?
Oh, shit!
Oh!
It's me
Fergie
The pen
Polo!
Fergie Ferg, what's up baby?!
Come on’
By now his inhibitions are long gone. Probably half way to Paris, or some other far off city. Mine are too, but he’s such a prude that it’s good to see them gone.
‘When I come to the clubs, step aside (Oh, shit)
Part the seas, don't be having me in the line (Oh, shit)
V.I.P 'cause you know I gotta shine (Oh, shit)
I'm Fergie Ferg
And me love you long time (Oh shit)’
Everyone’s now out here with us, even Seamus, who’s just hanging off of Blaise, still clutching his ale. Ron and Hermione are grinding shamelessly, which shocks me to no end. Pansy and her new boyfriend are dancing relatively respectively, unlike you, who is trying to remove my tongue permanently from my mouth…I like drunk Harry.
‘All my girls get down on the floor (Oh, shit)
Back to back drop it down real low (Oh, shit)
I'm such a lady but I'm dancing like a ho (Oh, shit)
'cause you know I don't give a fuck so here we go! (Oh shit)’
He’s popping up and down so fast now with his finger in his mouth so suggestively. He’s screaming the lyrics at the top of his lungs; I’m amazed his voice hasn’t given out yet.
‘How come every time you come around
My London London Bridge want to go down
Like London London London wanna go down
Like London London London be going down like
How come every time you come around
My London London Bridge want to go down
Like London London London wanna go down
Like London London London be going down like’
He’s grinding so hard into my hip, it’s starting to hurt.
‘The drinks start pouring
And my speech start slurring
Everybody start looking real good (Oh, shit)
The Grey Goose got your girl feeling loose
Now I'm wishing that I didn't wear these shoes (I hate heels)
It's like every time I get up on the dude
Paparazzi put my business in the news
And I'm like get up out my face (oh, shit)
'fore I turn around and spray your ass with mace (oh, shit)
My lips make you wanna have a taste (oh, shit)
You got that? I got the bass (Uh)’
He’s so cute, unbuttoning his shirt and start swinging it above his head. He then swings it around me and uses it as leverage to hold himself upright while he shimmies his arse off.
‘How come every time you come around
My London London Bridge want to go down
Like London London London wanna go down
Like London London London be going down like
How come every time you come around
My London London Bridge want to go down
Like London London London wanna go down
Like London London London be going down like’
He’s starting to get tired, I can see it, but he’s still dancing like he’ll never dance again.
‘Ah, da, da, da, da, doo, doo, doo, doo
Me like a bullet type, you know they comin' right
Fergie love em' long time
My girls support right?
Ah, da, da, da, da, doo, doo, doo, doo
Doo, doo, doo, doo
Ah, da, da, da, da, doo, doo, doo, doo
Me like a bullet type, you know they comin' right
Fergie love em' long time
My girls support right?
Another A.T.L.
Cali collabo
Fergie and Polo’
He’s so mesmerized by the song that he’s swaying in time to the “lalalalala’s”. I really love him when he’s drunk. I swear that if it was healthy, we’d do it more often.
‘When I come to the clubs, step aside (Oh, shit)
Part the seas, don't be having me in the line (Oh, shit)
V.I.P because you know I gotta shine (Oh, shit)
I'm Fergie Ferg
And me love you long time (Oh, shit)
All my girls get down on the floor (Oh, shit)
Back to back drop it down real low (Oh, shit)
I'm such a lady but I'm dancing like a ho (Oh, shit)
'cause you know I don't give a fuck so here we go! (Oh, shit)’
He knows that the song is soon going to end. He seems to almost panic and starts to cling to me and dance even harder.
‘How come every time you come around
My London London Bridge want to go down
Like London London London wanna go down
Like London London London be going down like
How come every time you come around
My London London Bridge want to go down
Like London London London wanna go down
Like London London London be going down like’
He knows that the song’s over, he starts to drag me back to our seats at the bar. But he throws his arm up and points when the final lines come on.
“Shittin' all over the world
Fuck you bitches!”
He screams before falling into his stool.
“Grey Goose martini, dirty two olives!” He yells at the bartender. The man returns with his drink, and he slurps it all in one go. He places his hand high up on my thigh. “Is it just me, or is this bar suddenly too clothed?” he asks with a drunken gleam in his eye.
I pay the tab and we leave the bar. A drunken Harry is a Harry that I love, but not as much as hung over Harry.
A/N: What do you think???
I walk into the pub and see him immediately. That damn messy hair that seem so uncontrollable, but gives that just shagged look that I work so hard to achieve when I style my hair.
“Seat taken?”
He turns around and grins. “Of course not.” We kiss and I sit down.
He finally notices my hair.
“What the hell did you do?”
“Don’t like it? It’s the first year I’ve gone all out for St Patrick’s Day, I thought it was a nice touch, it will wash out tomorrow.” I did go all out; green hair, tight green tee shirt and dark wash skinny jeans with my favourite green Chuck Taylors. Unlike my beloved who had borrowed one of my green button downs with his regular jeans.
“Draco…I just can’t believe that you didn’t say it was Slytherin!” He jokes. He’s such a lush that it’s easy to tell that he’s still on his first drink. I grab his pint glass and empty the green ale from it.
“Jay-sus Harry! How long have you been here, that beer was warm!”
Seamus walks up at that point with one of those ridiculous green hats that’s been charmed to sparkle all night long, complete with a “Kiss me I’m Irish” tee. “Draco, good to see you’ve come to support us!” Bugger’s already plastered and it’s only 8 o’clock.
“Right – o Seamus, righto. Hey Harry, wanna dance?”
The music is just starting up and the dance floor is starting to get crowded.
“Sure.”
‘I am an arms dealer
Fitting you with weapons in the form of words
And don't really care which side wins
As long as the room keeps singing
That's just the business I'm in, yeah’
As the bass line kicks in, we get to the dance floor and Harry starts with his innocent little school boy arse shaking. Honestly…I’ll have to teach him how to be a better dancer, but right now, all I want is some dancing that if you subtracted the clothes and added a bed would be sex.
‘This ain't a scene, it's a goddamned arms race
This ain't a scene, it's a goddamned arms race
This ain't a scene, it's a goddamned arms race
I'm not a shoulder to cry on
But I digress’
I grab Harry by the arm and pull him so his back is to me and start to rub up against him so that it looks like we’re dancing…
‘I'm a leading man
And the lies I weave are oh so intricate,
Oh so intricate
I'm a leading man
And the lies I weave are oh so intricate,
Oh so intricate’
He turns his head, in what appears to be rather uncomfortable fashion and takes my lips. I turn him around and we’re snogging. God I’m glad I taught him how to lose his inhibitions.
‘I wrote the gospel on giving up
(You look pretty sinking)
But the real bombshells have already sunk
(Prima donnas of the gutter)
At night we're painting your trash gold while you sleep
Crashing not like hips or hearts,
No, more like p-p-p-parties’
He stops suddenly and decides to break away…this is okay; I’ll see what he has in mind.
‘This ain't a scene, it's a goddamned arms race
This ain't a scene, it's a goddamned arms race
This ain't a scene, it's a goddamned arms race
This bandwagon's full
Please, catch another
I'm a leading man
And the lies I weave are oh so intricate,
Oh so intricate
I'm a leading man
And the lies I weave are oh so intricate,
Oh so intricate’
He’s shaking his hips wildly now, and with each ‘do do do’ he’s twirling and punching the air…perhaps he’s had more to drink than I thought…but a drunk Harry, is an extremely party loving Harry…we’re going back to the bar after this song is done.
‘Yeahh…
Whoa-ohh
All the boys who the dance floor didn't love
And all the girls whose lips couldn't move fast enough
Sing, until your lungs give out’
He knows the spoken part off by heart, and points to me when they speak about unloved boys. He struts back over to be and promptly fixes that statement.
’This ain't a scene, it's a goddamned arms race
This ain't a scene, it's a goddamned arms race
(Now you)
This ain't a scene, it's a goddamned arms race
(Wear out the groove)
This ain't a scene, it's a goddamned arms race
(Sing out loud)
This ain't a scene, it's a goddamned arms race
(Oh, oh)
This ain't a scene, it's a goddamned arms race’
We’re attached at the hip simply grinding and enjoying our selves now. He’s so cute when he doesn’t think people are watching. I’m glad he’s wearing his contacts instead of his glasses tonight. If he was, they would have been flung off along time ago.
’I'm a leading man
And the lies I weave are oh so intricate,
Oh so intricate
I'm a leading man
And the lies I weave are oh so intricate,
Oh so intricate’
The song finishes and I drag him back to our friends at the bar. Seamus is so pickled by this point that Blaise is just eying him in suspense for when they leave and he can shag Seamus senseless.
“Four Fire Whisky’s!” I yell at the bar keep over the music.
“Why four?” Harry asks me.
“Two for me, two for you!”
“DRACO! You’re trying to get me drunk!”
“Your point?”
The shots arrive and I seat two in front of Harry. He gives me a weary eye, but takes one in hand. We shoot them back, feeling the burn, and soon the buzz that only hard liquor can bring. Harry’s eyes are a little less focused now. Good. I like him like that. I order another round and I end up with three and Harry with one because he claims he’s already drunk enough.
Another song comes on the system.
“OH MY GAWD!!! I LOVE THIS SONG!!!” Harry screeches.
Pansy, Ron, Hermione and Blaise chuckle as they all realize what’s happening. Harry grabs mine and Ron’s arm, dragging us to the floor. I realize why he loves this song, it’s “his” song. London Bridge, Fergie. Perfect.
‘Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.
Are you ready for this?
Oh, shit!
Oh!
It's me
Fergie
The pen
Polo!
Fergie Ferg, what's up baby?!
Come on’
By now his inhibitions are long gone. Probably half way to Paris, or some other far off city. Mine are too, but he’s such a prude that it’s good to see them gone.
‘When I come to the clubs, step aside (Oh, shit)
Part the seas, don't be having me in the line (Oh, shit)
V.I.P 'cause you know I gotta shine (Oh, shit)
I'm Fergie Ferg
And me love you long time (Oh shit)’
Everyone’s now out here with us, even Seamus, who’s just hanging off of Blaise, still clutching his ale. Ron and Hermione are grinding shamelessly, which shocks me to no end. Pansy and her new boyfriend are dancing relatively respectively, unlike you, who is trying to remove my tongue permanently from my mouth…I like drunk Harry.
‘All my girls get down on the floor (Oh, shit)
Back to back drop it down real low (Oh, shit)
I'm such a lady but I'm dancing like a ho (Oh, shit)
'cause you know I don't give a fuck so here we go! (Oh shit)’
He’s popping up and down so fast now with his finger in his mouth so suggestively. He’s screaming the lyrics at the top of his lungs; I’m amazed his voice hasn’t given out yet.
‘How come every time you come around
My London London Bridge want to go down
Like London London London wanna go down
Like London London London be going down like
How come every time you come around
My London London Bridge want to go down
Like London London London wanna go down
Like London London London be going down like’
He’s grinding so hard into my hip, it’s starting to hurt.
‘The drinks start pouring
And my speech start slurring
Everybody start looking real good (Oh, shit)
The Grey Goose got your girl feeling loose
Now I'm wishing that I didn't wear these shoes (I hate heels)
It's like every time I get up on the dude
Paparazzi put my business in the news
And I'm like get up out my face (oh, shit)
'fore I turn around and spray your ass with mace (oh, shit)
My lips make you wanna have a taste (oh, shit)
You got that? I got the bass (Uh)’
He’s so cute, unbuttoning his shirt and start swinging it above his head. He then swings it around me and uses it as leverage to hold himself upright while he shimmies his arse off.
‘How come every time you come around
My London London Bridge want to go down
Like London London London wanna go down
Like London London London be going down like
How come every time you come around
My London London Bridge want to go down
Like London London London wanna go down
Like London London London be going down like’
He’s starting to get tired, I can see it, but he’s still dancing like he’ll never dance again.
‘Ah, da, da, da, da, doo, doo, doo, doo
Me like a bullet type, you know they comin' right
Fergie love em' long time
My girls support right?
Ah, da, da, da, da, doo, doo, doo, doo
Doo, doo, doo, doo
Ah, da, da, da, da, doo, doo, doo, doo
Me like a bullet type, you know they comin' right
Fergie love em' long time
My girls support right?
Another A.T.L.
Cali collabo
Fergie and Polo’
He’s so mesmerized by the song that he’s swaying in time to the “lalalalala’s”. I really love him when he’s drunk. I swear that if it was healthy, we’d do it more often.
‘When I come to the clubs, step aside (Oh, shit)
Part the seas, don't be having me in the line (Oh, shit)
V.I.P because you know I gotta shine (Oh, shit)
I'm Fergie Ferg
And me love you long time (Oh, shit)
All my girls get down on the floor (Oh, shit)
Back to back drop it down real low (Oh, shit)
I'm such a lady but I'm dancing like a ho (Oh, shit)
'cause you know I don't give a fuck so here we go! (Oh, shit)’
He knows that the song is soon going to end. He seems to almost panic and starts to cling to me and dance even harder.
‘How come every time you come around
My London London Bridge want to go down
Like London London London wanna go down
Like London London London be going down like
How come every time you come around
My London London Bridge want to go down
Like London London London wanna go down
Like London London London be going down like’
He knows that the song’s over, he starts to drag me back to our seats at the bar. But he throws his arm up and points when the final lines come on.
“Shittin' all over the world
Fuck you bitches!”
He screams before falling into his stool.
“Grey Goose martini, dirty two olives!” He yells at the bartender. The man returns with his drink, and he slurps it all in one go. He places his hand high up on my thigh. “Is it just me, or is this bar suddenly too clothed?” he asks with a drunken gleam in his eye.
I pay the tab and we leave the bar. A drunken Harry is a Harry that I love, but not as much as hung over Harry.
A/N: What do you think???