Ten Fingers

Glasses of various shapes and colors clattered noisily against one another as the underside of Nemo's heavy boots were planted upon the bar table's surface. It seemed it was becoming a habit of his; to stand atop tables when he'd achieved a comfortable buzz, if only to cause a ruckus.

"I need five people! Five brave men and women - though, preferably women - to join me in a game of Ten Fingers! The terms and conditions? We play with Vodka, and the first one to drop all ten fingers pays for the booze," Nemo offered, his hips swaying slightly as he stood.

He picked through the small crowd that littered the Hog's Head, in search of a willing participant in his game. "How about you, babe?" He inquired as his crystal gaze landed on a woman with a particularly adventurous air about her. "No?" He added with a tempting smile, before moving on.

People who said that Azkaban didn't change them were liars, or had lived a charmed life before their imprisonment. Jack had been there for about a month, without ant real charges. The Ministry did not deny them the right to free speech, and yet she had been denied the right to tell the truth, and she had served her punishment. Everyone had told her she would be out soon enough, that they couldn't keep her for long without proper cause. But a month had gone by and no one had come to her rescue.

Except that French guy. After that nightmare was over, the Ministry was forced to remember she still existed and really had no reason left to remain in Azkaban. That and she truly was an asset to the Ministry. Now Zoe had her assistant back, partly. Jack did just as good as a job as ever. But she was no longer getting piggy back rides from male secretaries or irritating interns. She did her work with Teddy. She finished her paperwork. She stayed hours past closing. She arrived early. She went home with the animals she had rescued. A Gytrash named Are and a Jarvey named Fred. She did not step from this.

Except on days like today, when Zoe insited she take a day off and she felt too restricted by her home to stay indoors. So she went to Hogsmeade and found a bar and slipped inside. She refused to order her usual wine, a bad habit she had picked up from someone too familiar for her taste. Instead, she ordered some Whiskey. She had been there for awhile, drinking and then using a learned spell to clear her head, keeping her from getting too sloshed. She did not need trouble.

However, she was feeling entirely complacent, and she hated it. She did not feel like herself anymore. She needed something, something more or she would fade back into what she was in Azkaban. A specter that was filled with doubts and anger and fear, who was filled with emotion but did not understand how to feel. She had not cracked a joke, had not taken a challenge, had not gone on an adventure.

She would either die or become boring if she didn't do something.

Typically, men standing on tables, inviting large crowds and trying to charm women were the exact opposite of what Jack would consider to be a good idea. Then again, some of the Whiskey had gotten in her system, and the man exuded life, something she had been rather lacking of lately. She needed it back and maybe it would rub off. She kicked her chair out, and strode over to him, her head high as usual as she sat down. "I'm in," was all she said.

He was still questioning himself as to why he had come to the bar that night. He sat in a corner reading a book he had picked up from an old wizard that had stopped to pet the two wolfs sitting on the side of the road just outside of town. He nearly shat himself when Silvyr morphed and asked if he had any interesting books to sell. He couldn't believe his luck when the man pulled out a copy of a old worn text book on defense against the dark art. He couldn't believe how many hours he had spent reading and rereading the book during his second and third years in school.

He grabbed the arm of the waitress who had been walking around all night trying to take care of the packed, in Silvy'rs eyes, bar. He was enjoying himself tonight. And why shouldn't he? It's not like he had anywhere to be for the next few days. He ordered another pint.

He was about to start back again at his book when he heard chairs being moved loudly fallowed by the smashing of glasses. He looked up to see a man standing on a table swaying as he called out the women to join him in what seemed to be his favorite drinking game judging by his enthusiasum.

A women who had been drinking alone called the bloke out. He didn't know if it was his buzz but something sparked the feeling of compatition in him. Silvyr spoke as the bar was somewhat still quiet, " Aw what the hell, I'm in." He didn't say truthfully that he was only joining the game because of the woman who joined. He set his book down, stood from his booth, and walked over to the table the man had chosen to mount.