| a Harry Potter AU by SkoosiePants ( @ 2006-11-16 14:25:00 |
In which nothing ever ends
start at the beginning | what went before | the end
“You have to admit, the whole situation’s rather absurd,” Lav said to Dean, three empty shot glasses upside-down on the table in front of them.
“Bizarre,” Dean agreed, though he wasn’t sure he actually did. It didn’t matter, though. He’d been in and out of love with Nev for years and years, so nothing much had changed, overall.
Lav shook her head. “I wanted what I couldn’t have.” She pinched her forefinger and thumb together. “But only a very little bit. You, though.”
“I’ll be okay.” He would be; he knew it. Nev was important to him, and the band was the most fun he’d had in a long, long time. And Susan; god, could he ever resent Susan anything? There was too much light in her.
From the stage, Seamus called out, “Hey, get a move on, you two,” and walked his fingers up his bass, absently strumming out the opening riff to Day Tripper.
They didn’t normally play Sundays. Curly’s was usually pretty much deserted then, too, smattered with only a few regulars - Flamel and podSal and Hamilton J. Harris the Third, who drank scotch straight-up and had a pronounced lisp. But they hadn’t played since the weekend before, not even practices, and Seamus was vibrating with excess energy. They hadn’t even let him have a dance-off, for god’s sake.
It would’ve been like Breakin’ 2: Electric Boogaloo meets Beat Street meets You Got Served and it would’ve been brilliant.
Ernie bounded onto the stage, grinning. “What’s up first?”
“Lav’s choice,” Seamus said. “As she’s had the most trauma lately.”
Ron twirled his sticks and pounded out a few beats of She Says She Knows Your Mum, segueing into ‘Til the Sky Turns Him Bright, waiting for Dean to settle at the upright.
The pub was thinly lined with Dirty Trousers fans. Han, Terry, Harry, Hermione and Blaise – sweetly holding hands, and they couldn’t think they’d get out of there that night without a proper ribbing from Seamus - were ‘round a table up front. Flicker, Brandeen and Vince were propped up at the bar, with Colin and a few of his friends nearby. Justin and Gin had their heads bent together over at a corner booth, and Ernie spotted Millie, Theo and Midge as they slipped in the door, swiping the first bit of sludgy snow off their coats.
He waved, jaunty, and watched what might have been a flush spread over Millie’s cheeks. Midge waved back.
Seamus jostled his elbow. “You ready?”
“Always,” Ernie said, flashing him a toothy grin.
Lav said, “Brand-new Shoes in round, gentlemen,” then leaned into her mic, voice thicker than usual with drink, and drawled, “Baby, these goddamn shoes are worth more than your life to me. So you better not vomit on them...”
start at the beginning | what went before | the end
“You have to admit, the whole situation’s rather absurd,” Lav said to Dean, three empty shot glasses upside-down on the table in front of them.
“Bizarre,” Dean agreed, though he wasn’t sure he actually did. It didn’t matter, though. He’d been in and out of love with Nev for years and years, so nothing much had changed, overall.
Lav shook her head. “I wanted what I couldn’t have.” She pinched her forefinger and thumb together. “But only a very little bit. You, though.”
“I’ll be okay.” He would be; he knew it. Nev was important to him, and the band was the most fun he’d had in a long, long time. And Susan; god, could he ever resent Susan anything? There was too much light in her.
From the stage, Seamus called out, “Hey, get a move on, you two,” and walked his fingers up his bass, absently strumming out the opening riff to Day Tripper.
They didn’t normally play Sundays. Curly’s was usually pretty much deserted then, too, smattered with only a few regulars - Flamel and podSal and Hamilton J. Harris the Third, who drank scotch straight-up and had a pronounced lisp. But they hadn’t played since the weekend before, not even practices, and Seamus was vibrating with excess energy. They hadn’t even let him have a dance-off, for god’s sake.
It would’ve been like Breakin’ 2: Electric Boogaloo meets Beat Street meets You Got Served and it would’ve been brilliant.
Ernie bounded onto the stage, grinning. “What’s up first?”
“Lav’s choice,” Seamus said. “As she’s had the most trauma lately.”
Ron twirled his sticks and pounded out a few beats of She Says She Knows Your Mum, segueing into ‘Til the Sky Turns Him Bright, waiting for Dean to settle at the upright.
The pub was thinly lined with Dirty Trousers fans. Han, Terry, Harry, Hermione and Blaise – sweetly holding hands, and they couldn’t think they’d get out of there that night without a proper ribbing from Seamus - were ‘round a table up front. Flicker, Brandeen and Vince were propped up at the bar, with Colin and a few of his friends nearby. Justin and Gin had their heads bent together over at a corner booth, and Ernie spotted Millie, Theo and Midge as they slipped in the door, swiping the first bit of sludgy snow off their coats.
He waved, jaunty, and watched what might have been a flush spread over Millie’s cheeks. Midge waved back.
Seamus jostled his elbow. “You ready?”
“Always,” Ernie said, flashing him a toothy grin.
Lav said, “Brand-new Shoes in round, gentlemen,” then leaned into her mic, voice thicker than usual with drink, and drawled, “Baby, these goddamn shoes are worth more than your life to me. So you better not vomit on them...”