Sun, Sand and Sambuca (A Drarry FanFiction)

Chapter Three

   Curiously, Draco's lot also took that as their cue to leave, and within ten minutes they were all outside in the cool night air stumbling along the pavement, trying to shush Blaise and Seamus from noisily singing 'We Found Love' whilst arm in arm.

Theo and Pansy were also linked in order to stay upright, and wavered in front of Harry as he rubbed his hand through his thick black hair to try and unstuck it from his head. His glasses had also fogged up, which Pansy found hilarious. "We're all at the same hotel, you know?" Theo called to the group at large, and Neville nodded enthusiastically, making Harry think they'd already worked this out. He glanced at Draco, nerves in his belly sloshing alongside the sambuca. He'd seemed so keen, but after deftly side-stepping several of Harry's attempted to actually snog him, he'd given up.

"El Marinero Feliz?" he checked, and the blond nodded.

"I guess not many other places were keen on letting a bunch of homos run riot in their rooms," he joked, but the idea of his bedroom being so close to Draco's made his stomach loop. He was being desperate, he needed to snap out of this and play it cool – that was probably why Draco wasn't interested, nobody wanted a needy shag.

"Oi!" shouted Pansy over her shoulder, flicking her black hair primly. "I'm not a homo thank you very much."

"Or me," Ron lamented. He'd been hit on by a stunning Greek guy before they left, and Harry suspected if he hadn't been happily married to Hermione with a baby on the way, he might have actually given it a shot.

"We," said Seamus emphatically, pointing around the group as they shuffled their way along the pathway past all the closed restaurants. "Are excellent homos."

"Homos with the mostos!" cheered Michael, swigging the vodka and coke he'd managed to sneak out of the bar.

They weren't the only ones on the street by far, but they were the biggest group and were attracting a few stares that Harry was still sober enough to notice. "Come on," he ushered the group on warily, not wanting to cause any trouble. A couple of white-boy skin-heads in particular caught his eye, dressed in polo shirts, jeans and trainers with thick gold chains around their necks. Harry could practically smell the hostility rolling off them, and kept shepherding his friends new and old along with gentle determination.

"Where's my room key?" moaned Terry, patting down his pockets before Michael waved two plastic cards in his face.

"Honestly, I can't take you anywhere," he sighed, plonking his now empty glass on a low wall running alongside a tapas bar that still had music pumping from it and more revellers partying beyond the doors. Blaise tried to make a detour inside, but Draco steered him deftly away.

"Piggy back!" Theo announced, and launched himself at the taller Neville who only just caught his legs before the arms slung around his neck choked him. "Take me home pony!"

Neville grunted and heaved Blaise's friend higher into a more secure position. "Make your mind up," he groused. "Am I a pig or a horse?"

Pansy found this so hysterical Draco had to hoist her off the ground to keep her walking. Harry didn't join in with any of this merriment though, too preoccupied as Seamus got very handsy with Blaise.

"You," he said thickly, prodding the black guy's chest. "Are going to make a wonderful husband."

"No you are," said Blaise firmly, and Seamus blinked back tears, moving his hand up to stroke the other guy's face.

"We're such lovely husbands," he sang to the night.

Harry tried gently to pull them apart; it wouldn't be the first time Seamus got overly sentimental and kissed someone he wasn't supposed to, but seeing as this was his stag do he really didn't fancy having to explain that to Dean once they got home.

"Oh for fuck's sake," a well spoken voice snarled in front of them, and Harry stopped automatically, a cold sensation rinsing through him.

A gaggle of men about their age in expensive looking shirts and loafers had halted, cross-armed in front of their procession down the pavement. The one that had spoken had rich brown hair and a watch on his wrist that probably cost what Harry paid monthly in rent. He was in front of the others and had an air of authority about him.

"'Scuse me," Harry mumbled as Blaise and Seamus continued to cling onto each other, gaping at the guys now in their way.

But they didn't move, in fact, Mr Fancy Watch stepped closer. "You fucking perverts," he spat. "No one wants to see a bunch of woofters mauling each other like rabid dogs. Have some fucking respect."

"For who, you?" Draco spat back, suddenly by Harry's side. "Sorry, I don't have time for inbred, elitist twats."

"Come on," Harry tried to urge his friends. "Let's just go, no one needs to get hurt."

"Fucking pussies," the guy yelled, getting a chorus of jeers from his half a dozen or so mates. Harry knew there was less of them than in his group, but his group were thoroughly wasted and not spoiling for a fight. These lot were literally rolling up their sleeves. "How about we show them what real men look like lads, hey?"

"Real men!" screeched Pansy, lurching for him and only just getting snagged back by Neville in time. "You think because Daddy paid for everything that makes you a man, makes you better than us?"

"Aw," cried the watch guy. "They've got a little Fag Hag, how sweet!"

One of the other preppy boys grabbed his crotch and jigged it at Pansy. "Want to see some proper cock darling?" he crowed.

Ron had materialised by Harry's other shoulder, and it felt like the two of them and Draco were in the middle of two sides of a brawl about to get very messy indeed. "Enough," Harry barked. "We're not here to fight, we're going home, okay?"

But the watch guy stepped forward and shoved his chest. "Fucking queer boy," he sneered.

Harry shoved back, seeing red as more people shouted out and Ron pulled him back. Draco jumped in front of him and squared up to the guy, and looked ready to pounce, but a new voice rang out.

"The fuck is this shite now?" a Glaswegian twang rang out, and real fear pooled through Harry's guts as the couple of skin-heads pushed their way to the middle of the group. They could be in serious trouble now.

Fancy Watch smirked. "Just a few poofs we're sorting out," he grinned, and Harry fought the urge to launch himself at him again.

But the Scottish guy jabbed a thick finger in Mr Watch's face. "The fuck right do you's have ta use tha' sorta language?"

It took Harry a moment to decipher the thick brogue before he understood what the man had just said. Was he sticking up for Harry and his friends?

Watch guy frowned. "This isn't any of your business," he said. "They were asking for it."

"How!" shouted Harry enraged. He couldn't say this was the first time he'd been abused on the street, but he was livid it was upsetting his friend's big night out.

The watch guy tried to loom over Harry, but the skin-heads were in the way. "You make me sick you lot, waving your dicks in everyone's faces in a pathetic attempt to be accepted. Causing a scene to show everyone how normal you are!"

"Seems ta me, friend," the Glaswegian said calmly as his mate bristled beside him. "You're tha only one makin' a scene."

A blast of Spanish shouting rang out over their heads, and Harry was extremely relieved to see four or five local police officers marching through the people standing around watching the altercation. Harry couldn't understand what they were saying until they switched to English. "Enough, stop this now," one of them snapped, waving his hands and pushing the two groups apart.