The Art of Singing On Tables Whilst Drunk

The Art of Singing on Tables Whilst Drunk

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It was Christmas, as tended to happen near the end of the year. Harry was sitting, at a Christmas party, at the Three Broomsticks. He wasn't sure why the Christmas party was being held in the Three Broomsticks, or who had arranged for it to be so. He also didn't really care, because he felt very warm and very fuzzy, and damn but this music was great, who put it on?

The thing about Butterbeer is that it is very yellow and very warm. And, unless it is being sold to students, or, rather, students not at a Christmas party in a befuddling pub, it is rather alcoholic. And after several mugs of the stuff, you start to wonder if the rather has been exchanged for a very, and if the floor should spin like that.

Harry had spent, or wasted, most of his coin on the very warm, very yellow, very alcoholic substance. Now he was trying to remember how much he had actually imbibed and how much of a dent it had made in his holiday spending.

Draco Malfoy, pranged out of his nasty little mind on Firewhiskey of mysterious origin, had climbed onto a table and was now singing. He appeared to be singing Close to You, by the Carpenters.

Why do birds suddenly appear,

Every time

You are near

Just like me, they long to be

Close to yo-ou...

It was a song that usually merely somewhat annoyed Harry. Now, with Malfoy singing- off-key, though his voice was pretty damn good, Harry noted grumpily- it was upgraded to giving him the A grade Irrits.

A voice, slurred with alcohol but still recognizable, bellowed from across the room. 'SHUT THE HELL UP, FERRET BOY!' Ron Weasley, also pissed, staggered slightly as he clambered up on the table and nudged Malfoy away with his hip. 'This is how you sing on a table.'

He proceeded to launch into In the Cold, Cold Night by the White Stripes, swaying his hips in as seductive a manner as a drunken teenager can manage. He was managing all right, thought Harry through his warm, yellow, Butterbeer-flavoured haze.

Malfoy jumped onto the next table, and kept singing. The songs, as would be expected, clashed horribly. It appeared to be turning into a musical war, with each boy hurling a line at the other in turn. As In the Cold, Cold Night went longer than Close to You, Ron won, and jumped down from his table, grinning triumphantly. 'See that?' he said. He took a pull from Harry's mug of Butterbeer. 'That, my friend, is an example of lack of forethought!'

'Meh?' said Harry.

'Well, if he'd been thinking about it, prop'ly, he'd have chosen a longer song...'

'Oh.' Harry readjusted his lopsided glasses, which had been knocked off-kilter somehow. He looked across the room, at the extremely tipsy form of Hermione Granger, whose hair was coming out of its usual strict bun. She had a mug of Butterbeer in one hand, and an equally tipsy Ginny Weasley in the other.

'Erm, Ron? Is it just me, or is 'Mione snogging your sister?'

Ron peered blearily at his sister and female best friend.

'Y'know, I think she might be.' He shrugged, and took another pull of Butterbeer.

'Don't you mind?'

Ron shrugged again. 'At least I can trust 'Mione, not like that Michael Corner, dodgy bloke...' He waved vaguely at the inverted form of the Ravenclaw in question, who was standing on his head against the wall, humming 'I Do Like To Be Beside The Seaside'.

'So, 'Mione and Ginny getting together doesn't strike you as odd at all?'

Ron thought about it for a moment. ''Mione's probably the only person Gins could date who doesn't just want to get her into bed, which is pretty odd, for a Gryffindor.'

They watched as Ron's little sister and their best friend tongue-wrestled. Hermione had abandoned her drink for a better grip on Ginny. Ginny had firmly grasped Hermione by the waist and was steering her towards a couch.

''Mione doesn't have time to try to get Ginny into bed,' said Harry. 'She's too busy being seduced.'

'Yeah.'

Malfoy shoved several people out of the way and appeared in front of them. 'Come on, Weasel features!' he yelled. 'Re-match! No distracting hip-wiggling from you this time, either, you little tease!'

'Sorry, Harry. Gotta go,' said Ron, draining the last of Harry's Butterbeer and bounding away to take up Malfoy's sing-off challenge. Harry peered morosely into his empty mug. He shook his pocket. It clinked tiredly.

'Oi!' he shouted. Most of the pub turned to look at him. 'Does anyone want to buy me a drink? No, not you, Colin.'

Several girls shimmered into view around his table. 'Another Butterbeer?' asked Hannah Abbot, flashing him a smile that was probably designed to be seductive. It wasn't, but Harry smiled back and she returned a moment later with a full mug. She left when she realised she wasn't going to get any Harry-snuggles.

Fred Weasley leapt onto a table. Harry wondered briefly what the Weasley twins were doing at the Hogwarts Christmas party. Fred whipped out his wand and said 'Sonorus!'

'Ladies and gentlemen!' Fred's magically enhanced voice boomed across the room. 'I hope you're all having fun?'

There was a loud cheer, followed by a muffled groan from the couch.

'I can see my little sister is, at least.' He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. 'Anyway, folks, we have a very entertaining item for you tonight- The Great Malfoy versus Weasley sing-off!' There was raucous applause. 'Yes, isn't it thrilling? For the first and probably only time, Draco Malfoy and Ron Weasley are going to prove to us all who is the mightier table singer! Gentlemen, take your tables.'

Fred jumped off the table. Draco and Ron clambered onto their tables. They glared at each other. Harry could have sworn he heard Western gunfight music. George Weasley rang a bell. 'Round one!' he cried.

In unison the two boys burst into song. Ron was singing Cabaret, and Malfoy sang what sounded suspiciously like Poisoning Pigeons in the Park. Though Ron's song was the stronger, Malfoy's had a prance value that Cabaret simply could not match. With Malfoy doing amusing hand actions, it looked as though he had the upper hand, but that all changed once Ron began doing the can-can.

After both songs were done, the two boys stood, glaring and panting. George once again rang his little bell and cried 'Round two!'

Again, the two boys began to sing, this time with Ron performing Little Girls and Malfoy performing You've Got to Pick a Pocket Or Two. Again, at the end of the round each looked woozy, but neither would admit defeat.

'Round three! Deciding round!'

Malfoy breathed in and began Your Move, by Yes. Ron grinned, and launched into America by Simon and Garfunkel. They sang louder and louder. Malfoy crossed onto Ron's table, and soon the two of them were singing almost nose to nose. Just as the last note of America was ending, Malfoy took his last chance at victory and snogged the unsuspecting Ron.

There was cheering and booing from the crowd at this sneaky yet effective manoeuvre. Both Ron and Malfoy, however, were currently very, very drunk. They quickly forgot why and who they were kissing and, both being horny teenage boys, were soon kissing rather enthusiastically.

Suddenly Harry rushed over, pulled them down from the table, wrenched them apart and swiftly decked Malfoy. He grabbed Ron by the elbow and dragged his loudly protesting best friend out of the pub.

Out in the snow-laden evening, Ron shook his arm free from Harry's vice-like grip. 'What was all that about?' he complained. 'I finally get a proper snog, and you have to go and deck them!'

'You were kissing Malfoy, Ron. Malfoy. You're not allowed to kiss Malfoy,' said Harry firmly.

'Why not?'

'He's an utter bastard, that's why!' Harry yelled.

'So? You kissed Cho, she's a total hussy!' yelled Ron, face scrunching up in anger.

'That's not the point!'

'If you're allowed to kiss whoever you want to, why can't I?'

'Because if you're going to snog anyone at this party, it's going to be me!' Harry reached forward, grabbed the front of Ron's robes and pulled him into a clumsy liplock.

Several moments later they broke apart. 'Christ, Harry,' panted Ron. 'Give a bloke some warning before you start smooching them.'

'Shut up,' said Harry, kissing him again.

END

I do hope you enjoyed that. You didn't? WHAT? You'd better review to tell me about it.

Notes-

Cabaret is from (guess what?) Cabaret. Poisoning Pigeons In the Park is by Tom Lehrer. Little Girls is from Annie. You've Got To Pick A Pocket Or Two is from Oliver. Your Move is by Yes, as stated. America is, as stated, by Simon and Garfunkel.