drinks with dragons | open
Sirius whistled a merry tune as he wiped out the wet glasses that sat on the counter, but he hardly noticed what he was doing; his eyes were drawn to the door, and his smile grew wider and wider as the trickle of people turned into a steady flow. Unfamiliar faces made their way into the pub – witches, wizards, hags, even a man who looked like had to be part troll – chatting amongst each other and occasionally eyeing the devilishly handsome man that stood behind the counter, or whispering in anticipation about the oddly dressed musicians that had settled themselves right in front of the hauntingly real statue of a dragon.
Sirius knew that half these people never would have stepped foot in the place had it not been for the celebrations, the anniversary – it was “for a good cause” after all. While Sirius claimed that The Green Dragon simply had a lot of character, it was what others might have called dingy, dirty, perhaps even used the word foul. The stone floor looked as if blood had been spilled in places, tables looked as though they might have had vomit on them at one point or another, and some of the chairs were on their last legs. This week was going to give The Dragon the biggest crowds they’d had in a long time.
While newcomers settled themselves at the seemingly questionable tables, The Green Dragon’s regulars treated Sirius like an old friend, and he greeted them in the same fashion. “Gladys Gibbon, you little minx, you, I didn’t think I’d be seeing you out tonight. A gillywater, I’m guessing? Don’t know how you stand the taste of it, myself.” An older witch with flyaway hair and several missing teeth grinned at him and waved ferociously. A couple strode up to the bar, the man instantly familiar, but Sirius couldn’t have picked the woman out of a line up. “And Andrew, mate, how are ya’? Oh, no brandy tonight? You’ve brought the missus out for date night, then? ‘Bout time you showed her ‘round the place – just a butterbeer? You got it.”
The band had begun their warm up, tapping out rhythms on the drums and strumming chords on their guitars, and Sirius could already feel their energy radiating throughout the crowd. He’d sent Gladys on her way with a gillywater and Andrew back to his wife with two butterbeers in hand, when he turned back to the bar, letting out a surprised bark of laughter.
“What in Merlin’s name are you doing here? I’d’ve pegged you as The Three Broomsticks type, somewhere a little cozier.” Sirius shot a glance towards the stage, and quirked an eyebrow at the visitor, “Or maybe you just came for the view – couldn’t blame you for that one, the bass player’s gorgeous, isn’t he?”
it was rowdy. she supposed that was a good sign - especially for a party. but her barely recognizing anyone made her feel like an outsider. all she did was sip on her cherry wine, wondering if perhaps she should have made her way to the leaky cauldron instead. a few more minutes, and then perhaps she’d just walk along diagon alley - or even better yet, go home. as if counting the very seconds, she heard what she could only remember to be sirius black’s voice. she hadn’t read or heard much about him or regulus and seeing him there now, meant they were probably both alive.
she let out a soft chuckle. “guess i wanted to try something new tonight.” he still held some resemblance to the child she once knew, long before now - before even hogwarts. the two of them chatting, awkwardly stuck in dress robes in parties force by their parents. they had her believe she hated functions like those and now as she awkwardly stood, without an insistent parent in sight, maybe she was right. “he is. you think he’s got any plans after this? because i haven’t.”
her eyes scanned the room, looking for any other familiar faces before she turned back towards sirius. “how’s your brother? is he here as well?” she had heard from her parents that things turned slightly sour once the wizard was sorted into gryffindor. but surely things were better now that the order had won - right?
