(Hogsmeade) The Hog's Head

[deek]

A heavy mug slammed onto a table, specks of dust rising in the stuffy room. They swirled carefully around grimy fingers before landing on the Daily Prophet spread wide open in front the ragged wizard.

Deek was not pleased. He was also drunk and teetering precariously off the chair he was standing on, but mostly he was frowning in displeasure.

A few names and photos had been scrawled onto the wanted section, and Deek found himself sulking when his name wasn't one of them. Instead, there were others who seemed to be rogues at Hogwarts.

What he found most bizarre, however, was they were wanted for crimes to do with the Ministry. Wobbling on the stool beneath him, he peered forward with a loud curse and read through the names. He wondered if old Vandesar was chasing after them, and crinkled his nose when such a thought occurred.

"Tha' old grouch better catch 'em" He said lazily, gesturing wildly to the small group drinking to his right. They ignored him and Deek took this as encouragement. "Damn rogues," he muttered, clambering up onto the table and knocking down his drink. "Rebelling against the Ministry? Hah!" He would never get involved with the Ministry and do such a noble thing himself. He was more likely to thieve off his comrades - he tended to be apathetic to anything that didn't directly concern him.

Before he could voice anymore of his disconnected thoughts, his figure wobbled and he knocked down the entire table as he fell unconscious. He would regret this come morning when all his possessions - including his undergarments - would be long gone. [/size]

[Shabnam Snapdragon]

Several people glowered disapprovingly as Shabnam’s sneeze practically shook the street, forgetting to put her hand over her mouth. She sniffed groggily and she waved her hand at an elderly warlock in apology, hitching up the hem of her cloak and continuing her trudging through the now, feet soaked through and socks squelching with cold sludge in her boots. The sky was a pearly grey, swirling with snow and plastering the thatched roves. Shabnam frowned, bashing knut sized snowflakes out of her frizzy yellow hair – now how had she managed to wrongly predict the weather? Usually it was Shabnam who was relied on to tell the Quidditch teams if Tuesday afternoon was good flying weather, or if there was going to be a freak lightening storm during a particularly important match, but as of late her cards had been about as helpful as a chocolate teapot!

Yesterday the sun had been shinning, the Hogwarts grounds green and the forest a stark fortress of knotted brown trees around the school, but upon waking up this morning Shabnam had found her window boarded up with snow and the Entrance doors almost impossible to open through the huge drifts outside – and yet the cards had said it would be brilliant, chilly sunshine glaring her right between the eyes...

‘Excuse me, sorry – oh, pardon me, excuse me…’ Shabnam said weakly as elbows and shoulders buffeted her about the narrow pavement, one hefty witch nearly knocking her out in front of a speeding stage coach. Shabnam still found herself apologising for having been in the way. ‘Oh, this is hopeless,’ she sighed forlornly to no one in particular, although her traitorous cards were in mind. ‘I need a rest!’

A draft of warm air smelling of wood smoke and lager breathed against Shabnam’s face, and peering between two wizards she could see the dim orange windows of The Hog’s Head up ahead. Oh, The Hog’s Head a rotten place for students, Shabnam, the Hufflepuff heard Professor Vickers’s voice echo in her head, recalling an after-lesson conversation with him, the topic of which she couldn’t remember. Not that I’m one to judge, but for a girl like you it’s an undesirable place, my dear! Shabnam’s eyes glazed as she thought about his warning, but with the cold window numbing her cheeks and bags of Christmas shopping banging her knees, Shabnam decided Professor Vickers would probably understand.

Letting go of another snotty sneeze, Shabnam chucked herself through the pub door, promptly tripping over a dark haired man draped across the wooden floor like a welcome mat. Drunken old men roared with laughter and Shabnam felt her cheek’s burn with shame, something she wasn’t usually aware of. ‘I’m very sorry!’ She croaked, turning on her knees to look at the man. He appeared to be asleep, with grubby cheeks and chapped lips, yellowing fingernails sticking out through fingerless gloves. Shabnam paused before patting his cheek gently, moon-wide eyes staring down at him. ‘There are foot prints all over your coat, mister, I think people have been wiping their feet on you…’ She mused. When he still didn’t moved Shabnam pinched his nostrils with her fingers, cutting off his whistling snores...

[deek]

Spluttering, Deek’s eyes blinked open only to close immediately after a long, pitiful groan. The light from the doorway shadowed the figure that had ungraciously woken him, and he swatted a hand at the silhouette sluggishly fully expecting it to be The Hog’s Head bartender. Deek would often fall into drunken slumbers and sooner or later, a “kind” visitor would call the guard and report a dead body decaying in the pub, something no one tending to an incredibly illegal bar would look forward to.

“I’m up, I’m up,” He called groggily, ignoring the snickers emitting from his far right. “Can’t think of a more humane way to wake me, can yeh?” He slurred, letting his head fall back down to the cool ground, gathering filth.

A sharp pain crawled down his spine before shooting into his sore muscles, and Deek moaned. A few more words forced their way into his ear drums, and his head snapped up when he realized the voice was not the raspy drawl of the bartender but instead curious and feminine. “That explains the pain,” He said with a toothy grin, his fingers flexing in their gloves.

The girl he faced had healthy cheeks and parcels cluttered around her knees as she bent forward and gazed at him bluntly. His eyes glanced at the bags pointedly, before sparkling with their usual greed. Standing up and picking up a few bags as though he was returning her pleasant gesture, he nodded over to the bartender. “Thank-yeh for waking me,” He said gruffly, stalking over to a brittle stool barefoot - his boots had clearly been stolen through the night. “You look thirsty, let me get you a…” He paused. The girl looked cheerful and seemed to be beaming. He grimaced. “Hot chocolate.”

As he settled onto his seat, he felt stealthily around in one of the bags he carried, suppressing the urge to roll his eyes. Don’t tell me those are tarot cards…[/size]

[Shabnam Snapdragon]

Shabnam jolted in alarm as the poor looking man snorted, his dark eyes unfocused and squinting shut as he roused from his unexpected nap on the pub floor. Leaning back on her knees Shabnam watched him with a blank face as he mumbled random things to someone who couldn’t have been her, his voice raspy and low as though he was either very thirsty or smoked a great deal. Shabnam bit her lip apologetically, realising pinching his nose hadn’t been very dignified. She gave a cheery smile in hopes of pleasing him as he looked at her, his tired, suspicious expression melting into a smooth glare. Shabnam failed to notice the sinister, wolfish grin.

‘Are you alright? I’m sure they have beds upstairs that you could use instead of the flo – ‘ Shabnam stopped abruptly as the man climbed to his feet, picking her two of her bags as he went. How kind, she thought, smiling as she watched him shuffle over to a barstool. Gathering her things in her arms Shabnam scurried after him, coughing as a cloud of pipe smoke was blown purposely into her face. ‘A hot chocolate – ack! – would be ace, thank – coff! – you…’ She wheezed, rubbing her watery eyes and accidentally stepping on his foot.

Several people were spying on Shabnam through the dull atmosphere, some shaking their heads in an almost apologetic fashion, others grinning at the man in congratulations. At a loss and very confused, Shabnam turned to him and stuck her hand out. ‘I’m Shabnam Snapdragon, pleased to meet you. Who are you?’ Her dim witted stare returned, studying his face, wondering where the stubble ended and the gritty dirt began. He’d certainly gathered a lot of dust on the floor. ‘You have something on your face,’ She said half-heartedly as her hot chocolate arrived, quickly mustering a bright. Shabnam was usually first to know if something was wrong, and she felt rather silly to only be realising now that coming here hadn't been such a clever idea after all.Professor Vickers was right.

The man appeared to be smiling to himself, and Shabnam titled her head to one side, blatantly staring at him. ‘Are you a tramp?’ She asked.

[deek]

Deek blinked at her remark. There was silence for a long while, before he let out a rough chortle of laugher. “Of all the things I’ve been called,” he muttered to himself, patting down his chest searchingly while not exactly denying anything. A dark scowl suddenly distorted his features and he inhaled deeply, neighbouring smoke filing into his lungs. “Nicked.” He said lowly, meaning his own pipe usually secure in his pocket.

The hot chocolate on the table sloshed messily down the wide rim of the girl's cup, but she seemed to either not notice – she was incredibly oblivious to most of her surroundings – or didn’t care. He peered into it, sending the barkeeper a skeptical look, before leaning back in his chair, satisfied. He wiped his cheek with the cuff of his robes and as he did so, a small wrapped box slid down his sleeve and lodged itself in a hidden compartment near is shoulder.

“Didn’t manage to get it, did I?” Deek asked her and turned his head an inch to look at the man behind the counter innocently. “I don’t suppose you have a napkin around here, eh?”

The barkeeper sneered, albeit after a rather blank look.

“This place has rotten service.” Deek said solemnly, another prettily wrapped box slinking down his side. “Which makes a man wonder – what is someone so young doing in a place like this?”

He turned on his stool, wobbling a bit, and gestured to the heinous crowd with a smirk. [/size]