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Harry pushed his way through a crowd of people trying to get to the table his friends were at.
“Sorry I’m late. I got delayed at work,” Harry said sitting down in the spare chair.
“Work! The bane of our lives, right?” Seamus shouted.
Harry looked at Neville who shook his head.
“Seamus has been drinking since before we even got here,” Dean informed him.
Harry couldn’t say he was surprised. Seamus was known to be proud of living up to his Irish heritage - it was the main reason he had insisted they went out to celebrate St Patrick’s Day. That, and the fact that the five of them hadn’t spent time together in a while.
“Well, let’s hope we can catch him up then,” Harry said, gamely lifting his glass in mock salute.
“I don’t think that’s possible,” Ron said doubtfully.
The five of them swapped stories on what was going on in their lives like how Dean had been hired to paint several magical portraits and adverts, and how Neville and Ron had left the Auror force to pursue other careers. They soon started on the old Irishman jokes to wind Seamus up.
“Why can't you borrow money from a leprechaun?” Neville asked.
“Cos they're always a little short!” Dean answered laughing.
“Don’t you go insultin’ leprechauns now. You never know when they’re gonna sneak up on ya and steal your luck,” Seamus warned them.
From the look on Ron’s face, he remembered the last two encounters he’d had with them and did not want a repeat of what had happened.
“I think we’ll take your advice on that one, Seamus. It would be just our luck that we’d attract a dangerous band of leprechauns,” Harry replied.
Sometime later, he spotted Daphne Greengrass through the growing crowd, making her way towards the bar.
“I heard she has a shamrock tattoo,” Neville commented wistfully as he saw Harry watching the blonde’s progress.
“She told me. Maybe today I can try my luck and see if she will show me,” Harry replied.
He already knew that Daphne had a shamrock tattoo somewhere, hidden beneath her clothes, but she’d always been coy about where exactly it was. It had intrigued Harry so much that his imagination ran wild whenever he thought about it. Which was often.
Maybe she will show me soon, he thought.
The two of them had been flirting with each other for months, but Harry had never asked her out - he couldn’t bear the embarrassment if she said no. Tonight wasn’t the same though. He had some liquid courage in him and hoped the luck of the Irish would mean he didn’t look like a fool when he asked. Whatever the outcome.
Without asking whether the others wanted a drink, Harry stood and made his own way towards the bar. Once he was there, Harry made sure he stood next to her, and it wasn’t long before he had her attention.
“Hi, Harry. Having a good time?” Daphne asked.
“As good a time as you can have with a drunk Irishman on St. Patrick’s Day. What about you?”
“It’s better now I’ve seen you,” she told him.
Harry wasn’t sure if she was being serious or not but still said, “I’m glad to hear it.”
“Someone happened to let people know that I have a shamrock tattoo and now everyone wants to see it. I’m sick of being asked,” Daphne said sounding irritated.
Harry could definitely relate to that. Even now, three years after the fall of Voldemort, people still wanted to see his scar.
“What if I told you I wanted to see all of you and not just your tattoo?” Harry asked.
Oh shit. Did I really just say that out loud? he thought.
He hadn’t been planning on telling her that. In fact, he was going to try and ask her to show him her tattoo, but once he had seen how bothered she was about everyone else asking he decided not to.
Daphne’s eyes widened slightly.
“You would, huh? What makes you think I would just strip for you?” she asked raising an eyebrow.
“I don’t want you to strip for me, Daphne. I want all of you; lucky tattoo, or not,” Harry informed her.
Silence greeted his words, and he thought he had said too much until she pressed her lips against his.
After the initial shock wore off, Harry kissed her back.
He didn’t know why he hadn’t done this before. Daphne’s lips were soft against his, and he could taste the Firewhiskey she had been drinking as their tongues danced with each other.
Breaking the kiss he said, “Will you come home with me?”
“Yes,” Daphne replied breathlessly.
When Harry woke up the next day he couldn’t help but wonder what made her decide to come home with him. Maybe it was the luck of the Irish, or perhaps it was his honest words about wanting her; whatever it was he was happy to finally be with her and solve the mystery of her shamrock tattoo.