Amortentia Dolorosa

[Follows Come Calling.]


It was a dingy place, one step up from the earth-and-straw-floored alehouse that had preceded it, an improvement only in that the floor was now wood. The tables had survived nearly a century of abuse, by virtue of being nearly half a foot thick, and most of the benches had survived the inevitable fights, as well, with the exceptions showing their age in lighter hues. There was a single round table in the place, shoved back in a corner by the kitchen door, and it was known to belong to the Freeholders. No one questioned this -- it had simply always been that way. No one spoke of it, just as no one spoke of the fact that the Freeholders seemed to get no older, with the passing years. It was the way of this place, even with the old fortress gone. The town was steeped enough in magic that the resident Muggles hardly noticed the occasional broom flight, or jarvey. The last jarvey in town, in fact, had been entertained in this very pub for several hours, before the Freeholders came to take it away.

Enter Roddy Lestrange, one of the Freeholder boys, in the company of an Englishman in a kilt, and a boy who might or might not be blood of some obscure branch of his family.

"My pet Englishman is getting old!" Roddy shouted, to the pub at large. "Who's to show him how it's done, with style? Drinks! Drinks for him! Drinks for me! Drinks for this poor little snipe, beside me!"

He grabbed his companions' hands and dragged them to the table always set aside for his folk -- for a night with no Freeholders in the tavern was a strangely quiet night.

Lucky snorted, and followed Roddy, a slight smile on his face. Only place he'd ever been introduced as a 'pet Englishman', and trust Roddy to do it. "Announcing to all and sundry, Roddy?" he asked quietly. "And 20 is hardly old."

"Aw, come now, Lucky. If you're my pet, it just means you're not food." Roddy laughed and dropped into a seat against the wall. "They're not so deaf they won't hear your accent, and with the way things have gone, of late, the boys are a little bloodthirsty."

He smirked at Sev and pulled out the chair that sat directly against the corner. "I'll assume you meant what you said about corners. It'll keep you out of reach, too."

Severus slipped silently into the seat in the corner, looking suspiciously around the room. He'd heard every word said to Lucky, and it wasn't as though he were any less English. He was, however, more than a little less loud, and it wasn't his birthday. And, if Roddy was right, he looked like one of the Morgans -- an ugly one, but no less one for it.

"You may not be old, Lucius, but you're older than him." He jabbed a slim finger at Roddy and rolled his eyes. "It's Roddy talking. Everything's in direct relation to him."

"I think you left a notable word out of that sentence, Sev," he said teasingly. "And of course I've an english accent. I think trying to fake the appropriate one would only make me stick out worse. I was just hoping some of the locals might remember me from the last several times I've been to visit. Then again, now is probably not the time for an Englishman to play devil's advocate."

"That, and any of them come after Sev, I'll have to help keep his innocence intact. After all, if I let anything happen, he'd not be nearly as much fun to tease." He dropped into the last seat with some cover, leaving the chair with it's back to the room open.

"It's always best to offer a reminder to the drunks," Roddy said, sliding lazily down in his chair as he waved to the lass with the pints. She winked and flipped her skirt at him, as she moved to serve what was on the tray, before attending to their little party.

"And if anyone goes to lay a hand on this little spot of my favour, you'll not be the worst to come for them." He ran a finger under Sev's chin, and was middling surprised he didn't get bitten. That was the usual way, but then, Sev wasn't actually a cousin.

"But, all in all, it's quiet enough, tonight. And after a few rounds, maybe it'll be too quiet." He grinned smoothly and ran the side of his foot up the inside of Lucky's leg, below the knee.

"I can take care of myself, you know. It's considered a Wizarding locale, isn't it? No trouble if I have to drop a hex or three?" Severus shook his head, and eyed one and then the other of his proclaimed protectors. "I'm not nearly as hopeless as Roddy, here."

"And I don't see any words missing from the last thing I said. They were all there and in the right order. I've checked. Four times, now."

"Of course you can, Sev. If it's just one or two of them. Besides, why deny us the fun?" he asked, a grin on his face. "And I'd tell you the word you missed, but I don't think you want your face to match colours with Roddy's hair, do you?"

"And hey," he said a little pointedly. "Roddy's not hopeless, his talent just lies in other areas." Lucky leaned back in his chair a bit, pretending he hadn't noticed Roddy's foot.

Sev's face torqued through an uncomfortable series of expressions as he tried to imagine what Lucky thought he'd left out. On second thought, he probably didn't want to know...

"... Fun? Since when is getting the snot beaten out of oneself 'fun'?" He pointed at Roddy, again. "You're a genius. We know this. So, tell me, genius, that's fun!?"

He looked somewhat horrified, but was willing to concede that there might be some fun in it, if you were winning, which didn't happen nearly often enough, and usually, he was on his way to do something more important, and didn't have the time to savour the thrill of conquest... But, really, such barbarity...

"Ah, Sev, it's more fun than I think you'll ever appreciate." Roddy sighed, dramatically, one hand draped over his brow. "Nothing quite like the crunch of bone and that hot, wet fountain of blood, when you break a man's nose with your forehead. Can't do it sober, though. Just gives me the cold shivers thinking of throwing a punch."

He winked saucily at the bar maid. "Good even', Mary-love. And maybe a better one, later, aye?"

"Ach, go on," she groaned, throwing her dishrag at his face.

Roddy caught it mid-air and tossed it back. "A bottle of Jamie for the table, and the house stout all around. Special occasion, tonight. Put it on the tab, you know we're good for it."

"Startin' to think it's all you're good for, boyo. All talk, with you." Mary grinned as she stepped away from the table.

"Any night of the week you want more than talk, you just let me know, lass!" Roddy called out, but she just flicked the dishrag in his general direction, as she went to attend another table.

Lucky laughed at Roddy's flirtation. "Well, it's more fun when there's no personal grudge involved, Sev. If they're out to kill you, it's a different matter."

"So what's the gossip I've been missing, boys? Just because I'm now officially old, doesn't mean I'm dead, after all. And being in and out of England" does lead to less knowledge of local events than one would like."

"Gryffindor is full of violent assholes -- wait, that's not news. Slytherin is full of equally violent -- no, that's not news either..." Severus gave Lucky a long look. "Nothing changes but the date. It's bloody England."

"A bit bitter, are we?" Lucky asked lightly. "The whole world contains violent assholes. It's rarely news, unless they manage something spectacular."

"And rumour is that Roddy and I have politics to discuss one of these days soon. Not sure which one, though." Lucky smiled at the waitress as the drinks arrived, and took a sip of his stout.

"Oh, and they've been managing the twice-damned spectacular, here, of late. But, this you've heard, and I won't ruin a lovely night going over it again, I'll not." Roddy sounded a bit more bitter than even Sev had managed.

He reached out and cracked the seal on the whiskey. "This is a bottle to be drunk among friends. It is, in the esteemed opinions of my family, the best whiskey going that didn't come from the Far Lands."

He sniffed the open bottle before offering it to Lucky. "And the first of it is yours, since we're here celebrating your astounding ability not to be dead. Drink up, old man."

Severus investigated the pint of stout before him. As liquids went, it looked nearly stiff enough to stand without the glass -- a feature seen in only a handful of potions, and none of them things you wanted going down your throat. But, Lucky was drinking it, and that said something for it.

He sipped cautiously at it, suppressing the urge to spit the thick, bitter fluid across the table. It sat in his mouth a few moments before he managed to swallow it, and after that long, he was willing to admit it probably went well with cabbage, but by itself it was an assault on the senses. He would, of course, finish the glass, if that seemed to be the order of the day. No sense in making a fool of himself in front of two of his only three friends, and a pub full of folks he didn't know.

He smiled, and sniffed at the whisky, before raising an eyebrow at Roddy. "Are we drinking from the bottle, or are the glasses for this?" he asked, setting it back down for a moment as he waited for an answer.

A strange smile lit Roddy's face. "From the bottle. Let the bottle make the round. I'll not have us counting in small measures on a night like this."

Lucky nodded seriously, and took a swig, before passing the bottle to Roddy. A smile crossed his face. "We will be too pissed by the end of the night, won't we?" he asked.

"Sodding hammered, if I've any say in it. Sodding hammered, and covered in blood and less mentionable things." Roddy laughed, broadly, before he took a swig and licked the mouth of the bottle, before passing it to Sev.

"I expect we'll have you up by your ankles, by the end of the night, but don't drink too much, 'cause we'd like to get in a few blows, before we have to carry you out." He smiled wickedly, eyes aglitter, and slugged the top inch off his pint.

Severus opened his mouth to ask what the point of being drunk was, if you ended up putting it all back, but realised that the answer was probably going to involve some distinctly Irish definition of 'fun', and just tipped the bottle back, instead, carefully avoiding the side Roddy's tongue had been on.

The whiskey, he'd grant, was much better than the stout. It had a rich and somewhat oaky taste. This, he could learn to like.

"That's really good!" He sounded surprised as he handed the bottle back to Lucky.

Lucky snickered. "A few licks, indeed," he said. "And I think I'll manage."

He watched Sev for a moment. "Of course it's good," he said, taking the bottle to have another healthy swig. "The problem is that whisky's a lot stronger than stout, so you have to be rather careful about how much you drink." He licked at his lips before sipping at his stout again.

"Blows, Lucky, I said blows, not licks. Of course, knowing you, I might well get in both, and get my kicks doing it." Roddy snickered inanely and hit the whiskey again, licking the rest of the mouth of the bottle before he set it in front of Sev.

"And stout's a lot stronger than the pisswater most of England calls beer, so don't worry about asking for water if you don't like where your head's getting to. I had to peel that one off the floor a couple times, before he got it right." He jerked a thumb at Lucky. "Water with your drinking's nothing to be shamed for, regardless of what some fools say on it. After all, anything that keeps you standing to buy another drink is worth the time spent. The point, here, is to be merry, not to be passed out on the floor."

That was the most continuous sense Severus had ever heard out of Roddy's mouth. Enough so that he was willing to overlook the absolute incoherence that had preceded it.

"I'll keep that in mind," he promised, with a solemn nod. This time he took a smaller sip of the whiskey, and savoured it longer. It really was the sort of thing he could get used to.

But, given your father...

I am not my twice-damned Muggle father!

But, you are his son...

He shrugged, and rolled his eyes. "You think English beer is bad, you should try American," he said with a dramatic sigh. "Or rather, don't. If I wanted hops flavoured water, I'd order it." He shuddered prettily. "Americans just don't know how to drink at all. They think they do, of course, but most of their drinks are pisswater." He took another, smaller sip of whisky, before passing the bottle to Roddy.

"Americans are just half-cocked Englishmen, anyway. And if they're not half-cocked Englishmen, they're half-cocked Frenchmen. The emphasis, here, is on half-cocked." Roddy took another great swig of his pint before washing it down with a taste of whiskey. "Of course, the Master says that there are to be no nations, in the new world, so I keep telling myself it'll be the provence of Irish Wizardry to educate the heathen masses on the methods of proper drinking."

He handed the bottle and its cork to Sev. "Once more, and put the cork in it. No more than three until you see how it settles with you."

Severus nodded, gaining a new and deeper respect for the whiskey, in that moment. He took another small sip, and corked the bottle, setting it at the centre of the table. After an appropriate moment of enjoyment, he picked up the pint glass. If Roddy was going to talk shit about people who couldn't drink 'proper beer', then, by Merlin's beard, he'd make his stand in this one thing. He could be disagreeable about any number of things, later, but this one seemed important, somehow.

The next swallow was as bad as the last, but as he was expecting it, he got more of it down.

"The Master you speak of," he asked after a brief pause to let the taste out of his mouth, "is that the Dark Lord, whose politics you're so fond of? How has he done by you, lately? I've heard you say that we English are quick to rise to an occasion, but just as quick to fall away with our promises."

Lucky looked startled. "Let us speak in theoreticals, Severus. At least in public. " With that, he sipped his stout. "There is a man, of my acquaintance, who has always kept his word to me. Kept his word for many years, now. And, at that, given me access to spells and information that even my father's library doesn't have. We have had discussions about things, including the limited pace at which the English school system is progressing due to certain influences."

He sipped his stout again, and watched for his friends' reaction.

"There is a man, to take Lucky's words on the matter, who speaks so well, it's hard to trust a word he says on any subject, until he acts. And his actions, so far, have supported his every word. My brother studies under his right hand, one Lady of Standing, and it is said that he, of the same blood as me, will take the post when she is gone. He has nothing in his heart against the Irish." Roddy sipped his pint, to wet his mouth, before he started again. "And even me -- me with my faint skill -- he tells me to write for him. Tells me that when the history of the new world is written, it will be in my hand. He tells me, sometimes, to write of the men who came before him, and not to polish their deeds -- his words, those, and good ones -- not to polish their deeds, so that he can learn from their mistakes, and not make the same blunders. He tells us that he cannot die, and I believe him, I do."

"He sounds too good to be true." Severus was quick to judge, as always. "But, working under the presumption that your observations are correct, do you think he's room in his entourage for a ratty young poisoner?"

He gulped the stout before him, having forgotten what was in the glass, but managed to hold a straight face.

"Merlin only knows what I'll take to, after school is out. It's always best to have options, my father always said -- usually right before he said we hadn't left him any..." He shook his head, to clear it. "I'll probably end up in medicine or Ministry-funded research, but I'm not one to pass up an opportunity, before I know what it offers."

Lucky smiled, a winsome smile. "I'm sure there's room," he said. "Not officially, not yet." He sipped his stout. "But then, he'll not take anyone under 17 officially, and usually prefers they've finished school before taking certain steps."

"However," he said. "I could see the opportunities to do work for him, and learn from him being available to you now. I was borrowing books and corresponding with him at your age. It started at a house party of my father's. And from there, moved forward until I graduated." He ran a finger around the lip of his glass. "Whom do you think has helped encourage my father to allow for further education overseas?"

Opportunity flashed before Sev's eyes. Here, he could see a way to get out -- a way to learn more than he'd ever been offered, a way to remove his father, without censure, and possibly with praise. But, more than anything, somewhere, someone had an answer to what ailed his mother, and when she was safe, he'd be free to pursue whatever he liked, and she'd be there to see his work. To see her son succeed, to see the world get brighter -- she'd see it all. Now, she looked, when he pointed, but she never really saw.

"I think I'd like to meet him. Not yet. I'm not ready, yet, but one day, when I can make a better impression than I can, now."

"You'll make a fine impression, Sev, as long as you let us dress you. Honestly, it's the look about you that does the most damage -- you always look like you work too hard, and never take care of yourself." Roddy took a drink, and thought about his words for a moment. "Of course, I've seen how often you eat, left to your own works. It might not be a good impression, but it's terribly accurate, it is."

"But, we'll have no worries of you. You'll do well, whatever you choose to do. I know you well enough to know you'll not to choose things you're not good at." He nodded, looking as sincere as was possible, considering the amount he'd had to drink before they'd even left the house.

Lucky nodded. "I can always offer your services brewing some potions for him, even now. Let you get a start on your impression by your work. I know that's important, and you're quite good, and only getting better. "

He smiled. "And yes, you will let us dress you. It's like you saw earlier, the impressions that can be made with the right clothes." He sipped at the stout slowly, surprised to notice it was more than half gone already.

Severus tossed back a long swallow of the dreadful stout, knowing that, in essence, Roddy was right. He really didn't bother to eat, or bathe, or really any of those basic things, unless he had some impetus to remember. His work was always more important to him than those little cosmetic fixations. Confessedly, eating was a bit more than cosmetic, but with the meals at Hogwarts, it was hardly any harm to miss one or two. It was easy enough to eat that much and more at the next meal he showed up for.

But, he supposed the little things were important when it came to acquiring gainful employ. Once the first impressions were made, it was all on the quality of work -- but those first impressions were the ones he was so bad at. Lucky was right. He should let the work speak for him, before he tried to speak for his work.

"Maybe you're right. The next time I'm in the lab, I'll do him a favour, if you'll tell me what he needs."

"And this from the one who doesn't do politics." Roddy clapped Sev on the back. "You'll learn, in time. It's all politics until you're behind closed doors. And even then, sometimes, it's still politics."

He gulped the last third of his pint, and flagged Mary for another round. It would be a good test of his reflexes, at least. ... And speaking of reflexes... He placed one foot against the edge of the chair, between Lucky's knees. Not close enough to touch the man, but close enough to put a noticeable pressure on the wood -- and certainly close enough to rustle the Englishman's kilt on the way up.

Lucky blinked a few times, as he noticed movement in his kilt under the table. "I can certainly find out. In fact, I'm sure he'd rather you than me, for most of his brewing needs, because you're interested in the creative things." He smiled. "And it's not like you're taking work I want away, either. That's what the esoteric spellcrafting, and research into spells that have fallen out of favour is. I do research into magic for him, in the way Roddy is looking at history and historical figures."

He took a deep breath to steady himself, as he noticed the world getting just slightly slippy. "He wants bright young wizards. Wants to know what's being said at Hogwarts, too. Even if you don't have the perspective there that I did, the perspective from your end of things is just as useful." His hand on the table slipped over to cover one of Roddy's as he sat back for a moment.

"Aye, and if he'll take my perspective, yours is nothing to take lightly. I haven't the mouth on me that you have." Roddy smirked appraisingly at Sev. "And I'll thank you to note I'm not the only genius at the table, I'm just the one in the purely academic fields. You and Lucky -- and I group you together, sure I do -- are the ones with the practical knowledge. You've got the mind and the mouth, Sev. And you're not afraid to give the unpopular opinion."

He turned his palm up, under Lucky's hand, tracing runes into the other man's palm, as he spoke. If they could be interpreted, which he sincerely doubted, he was suggesting some significant violations of both physics and human anatomy.

After a long day of leisurely flying on his broom, Willi thought he would stop for the night in this little nothing of a town. Landing his broom with the practiced ease of a seasoned rider, he dismounted and took a look around
.
“Good fucking god how is it that people still live like this in this day and age” he mumbled to himself. “I just pray that the beer here is better than what is in Hogsmeade.”

Looking around he saw what appeared to be a bar, if one could call it that. Rolling his eyes he made his way towards the place, after all he had been riding all day and was parched. Reaching the door he made his way inside to the darkened room that was the bar.

Looking around the place he didn’t see anything that was to important or inspiring. A table in the back held a few boys that he recognized as Hogwarrts students and pad them no mind. He walked up to the bar to order his drink and there was a drink placed in front of him before he could ask for one.

“I didn’t ask for this” he told the serving girl.

“I know” was all she said as she walked away.

Confused but very thirsty he took the drink and sat down to what he hoped would be a calm simple night of relaxation.

Someone might listen to the things he said? The idea confused and frightened Severus, as much as it excited him. To hold the ear of someone with power -- regardless of how long that power might or might not last -- was always an accomplishment. It was the sort of thing he could take to Eastern Europe, at the least. Power, and the powers behind the power, were always in vogue in that part of the world.

"I -- I don't know what to say..." He blinked and drank some more of the pint of horrors, bringing it dangerously close to the tailings, in the hopes that he could drown the fact that he'd opened his mouth to let out such an inanity.

Luckily, he didn't have to say anything. Mary set down another three pints, as she came from dropping the fourth in front of the American. "Are you suggesting the sloppier sins to this poor, sweet boy, Roddy? I'd say 'Shame on you', but from the look of him, he's probably blood and twice your age." She laughed. "Far Lander or not, don't let this one talk the pants off you. The talk is all he's good for."

Severus turned white as a sheet. "My pants are not now, nor have they recently been a topic of conversation, and I'd much prefer they not become one, now."

Lucky looked at Roddy with raised eyebrows for a moment, before hearing Severus, and collapsing in laughter. "Actually, Sev, I believe they were," he said, after ensuring that the waitress was out of earshot. "And you're learning quite well to have discussions around us, at least."

Looking a bit confused at the last bit of conversation, he just assumed he’d caught the wrong part of it. Taking a drink of the drink that was given to him he was greatly surprised.

“How in the hell did she know what I would want to drink “ he said to himself, “well who cares really this is a damn good drink I must admit”

“Where the hell am I anyway” he asked the serving girl?

Giving him a puzzled look, she replied “yer in Ballycastle of course”

“Where” he asked.

“Ballycastle, Ireland silly gobshite” was all she could say, before the laughter in the corner again caught his attention.

What where their names again ronny, robby , bobie all hell he couldn’t remember.

"Depends on the breadth of your definition of 'recently', which I hadn't taken to include 'before dinner', in this context." The smile that accompanied his words was razor thin, and just as sharp.

"And I never lacked the ability to have discussions, in general, it's just the particular ones I have an occasional struggle with. Generally the ones surrounding topics either not fit for public consumption, or so generally witless as to not be worth reply."

He squinted out past the table, to where the American, by his accent, was making an obnoxious prat of himself. How, exactly, did one not know where one had gone? He wondered how many drinks the man had consumed before getting underway.

Roddy purred, thoughtlessly at the look on Sev's face. Who, besides he, would have thought the greasy little git had that kind of appeal in him. He unthinkingly sketched another line into Lucky's palm, this one with Sev as the subject.

But, after a moment, he followed Sev's eyes to where the new arrival sat at the bar. What a slipwitted berk. He looked like that crazy uncle the Blacks had, whose name he could never remember -- but, about fifty years younger.

"How long d'you think he'd stand up?" he muttered to Lucky, indicating the American with a tilt of his chin.

"And I had," Lucky said with a grin.

"Oh, I don't know, Roddy. Depends on what he's been drinking, and what you want him standing for. Certainly isn't the friendliest place to be as a foreigner, this pub. I wonder what brings him out this way, anyhow?" he asked, before finishing off his stout. "It's not like Ballycastle is the best known place, after all."

Lucky decided for the moment, to ignore the nails in his palm in favour of the spoken conversation.

“What a snout on that one” he thought to himself.

“I’m sorry” he told he serving girl, “ I wasn’t really paying attention when I was flying. Just went for a flight and kinda got lost. You know how it is right?”

Rolling her eyes she walked away as the boy with the “snout” just kind of stared at him.

Staring back Willie asked “something I can help you with friend?”

Severus had caught the implication in Roddy's question, but not in the way Roddy had looked at him. Some things were still a bit beyond even his wit. If the redhead wanted a fight...

He finished off the last of the first pint of awful. "Your accent," he called back, smooth baritone cutting through the easy, joking rumble of the ambient noise. "It's not the most common, in these parts. Can't help that it caught my ear like a jarvey's..."

Roddy didn't blink, but he did get his foot the hell off of Lucky's chair, and down where he could use it. What the holy everliving fuck is he thinking!? He drew his hand from Lucky's and wrapped it around the still-full pint before him.

"My little cousin's right. We don't see many of your folk here. What brings you out of the Wasted Lands?" Nothing so kind as 'Waste Lands', no. But Roddy's opinion on the colonies had already been aired once that night, and it wouldn't do to hold a grudge, too tightly, against something that wasn't either Northern Loyalist or Muggle English.

Lucky shifted subtly, one hand now on the rails of the empty chair at the table. He appeared to still be at his ease, but there was a subtle tension along his muscles. "Well, I suppose there's room for near anyone here. As long as they hold the right beliefs, after all. Or at the least, don't hold the wrong ones." His precise upper class English accent was unmistakable.

“Sorry did I hear you right” he asked “ no I don’t think I did. It sounded like you called me a jarvey but I know that can’t be right. I often have trouble understanding you arrogant limey…. Oh never mind”

Turning away “I’m not getting into a fight in this shit hole” he thought.

Hearing the question he turned his attention back to the boys.

“I was just out flying trying to get out of Hogsmead.” He said noticing that some of the patrons had stopped their conversations to listen in. “oh great” he thought.

"I said you sounded like a jarvey. Clearly, you couldn't be one, you're far too tall." Severus left the end of the sentence hanging and took a long pull on his drink -- surprisingly, this one was much less offensive than the one before it. He smirked sloppily at Roddy.

Noticing the blonde haired boy a glimmer of recognition came to his mind.

“That can’t be. Is that you Lucius?” he asked “haven’t seen you since you were in the state”

After all it was Lucius that convinced him to come to England. Telling of the war that was about to start
Muggles being hunted was what he was told. That was a life long dream.

“You might want to look to your friend before he get to out of line” suggested Willi.

"My young cousin is well within his right as a member of our house, outsider." Roddy stood and bowed, artfully. "My name is Lestrange, as was my father's before me, and you'd be wise to remember it. This is our land, on which you stand, not his or yours."

He sat back down and laid into his pint. "Do you actually know this git, Lucky?"

"William?" he asked, still a bit stunned by Roddy's declaration.

He looked to Roddy next. "Talking politics in an American bar one night over drinks, I believe. I didn't expect to see him in England, much less in Ballycastle."

Rolling his eyes at the Lestrange boy’s comments. “Why is it that children always ride on their parents coat tails “he thought.

“Well well well never expected to see you in a place like this” Willi said walking over to shake his hand” how the hell are you? My apologies to your friends. After our conversation in the sates I thought I just had to come.”

Roddy grabbed the front of Sev's shirt, under the table, holding him in his seat, just in case. For all that he adored a good pub brawl, it wouldn't do to get a friend of Lucky's caught up in it -- not yet, anyway. He was neither well enough known nor offensive enough.

He tugged, slightly, to get Sev's attention, and shook his head, very subtly.

He flattened his ears at Roddy, and stared at him hard, one eyebrow raised. Why the hell not? But, when Roddy shook his head, he just rolled his eyes and quirked his lips in accession.

Lucky nodded. "I wasn't so sure I'd ever see you again. Lots of people talk well, but their determination is lacking, in the end." He shook the other man's hand politely. "I'm doing rather well, actually. Visiting friends, and the like." He gestured with his head at his friends.

"He's right, though. They don't take well to strangers around here, and I, for one, don't come here without the proper company." Lucky sipped at his second glass of stout.

“My resolve wasn’t the problem after the incident with those filthy muggles” referring to his shoulder. “ Can I buy ya’ll around and pit this all behind us?”

Not waiting for an answer he called out “ a round of drinks for these guys if you please.”

“ I came to England in search of that which we talked about but found it hard as hell to find them. After about six month’s of trying I grew low on cash and had to take a job. Then school ended and Hogsmead died down so I had to get out of there. Didn’t really know where I was flying, just kind of exploring I guess” replied Willi.

"Mead for my dear cousin!" Roddy called out, to make sure Sev didn't end up with another pint of stout. The boy had clearly had more than enough heavy drinks, for the evening.

"Go easy, tonight," he said softly, to Sev, as if he were any other member of the family, for whom drinking and fighting were the finer things in life. "I'd rather you have neither spilled drinks nor blood on you, so early in the evening."

Lucky laughed for a moment. "And yet, the moment you stop looking, you find. Or at least, some of the younger end. Not sure the older generation would know what to do with you."

He smiled at Sev and Roddy. "To think, and we were just on the subject a bit ago, if delicately. It is something one is careful in which terms you speak about it, in public. Certain figures are far too in support of muggles to have it wise, else."

Severus eyed Roddy suspiciously, thankful for the break from the stout, but he was quickly distracted by the talk of Muggles and subjects earlier deemed inappropriate for public converse. He muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, "Muggles ruined my family and my mother's life," before returning to the pint of stout that still sat more than half full before him.

Stunned at this “ what these no wait you mean, I was.. Jesus fucking Christ you have to be shitting me. Really?”

Amazed at this Willi looked at the boys with a new respect. This loud mouth child and greasy loud mouth where some of what he was looking for what a shock.

Lowering his voice, Willi asked “ so this is the “younger” bunch huh? While funny how fate turns things ain’t it. “

Lucky smiled again, ferally. "Eh, Severus isn't in our Gentleman's debate club , yet. Not old enough for an official welcome, as it were," he said. "But he's a bit of a friend and protoge, and the opportunity is there, once he's of age." Lucius gestured to his younger friend. "But yes, there are a number of us out of school, in some cases fresh out of school as well as members old enough to be your parents or better."

He smiled. "They usually handle recruiting, when it comes to foreigners. I handled my peer group, if they didn't have family willing. Just one of the effects of having the right connections early on." He smiled and sipped at his second stout guardedly.

"So I have to ask. Where do I sign up?" Willi asked enthusiastically, "I mean this is what we talk about right. And here I am. You gotta help me here."

Not wanting anyone to here their conversation Willi put a spell quieting around the four of them.

Severus snickered quietly, but not inaudibly, as he arced an eyebrow at Roddy. This berk was pure comedy, but that might've been the whiskey talking. "Aww, tell him like you told me, Lucky. 'Let the work speak for you.'"

But, that's just you. You're a dirty, half-Mudblood child.

Shut up! It's nothing to what I'll be!

"Cousin, unless you want your mouth put to more appealing uses, fill it with that pint." Roddy gave Sev a sharp look, and one more than a little bit undercut with things he wouldn't say aloud.

He laid his hands to the wall, behind him, and whispered to it. "You wanted silence? Now you'll have it. The walls have ears, here, and mouths as well, louder by far than my young cousin."

As he took his hands from the wall, one captured Sev's hand, under the table, and the other brought his half-empty pint-glass to his mouth.

"I wouldn't trust to spells like those here, Willi. Too many around here have talents that I myself don't know," he said quietly. "And Severus has a fairly decent idea, save that I don't know your areas of specialization."

He gave Severus a rather pointed look. "I suggested that for you, knowing your particular talents, and the fact that they are highly in demand." His voice was carefully controlled as he spoke.

Sipping at his pint, Lucky looked at Willi. "If nothing else, I can suggest you to certain parties who might pay you a visit. Hogsmeade, you said?" he asked courteously.

At that Willi was a little taken aback at this comment, strange as it was. Taking a long pull from his drink Willi sat back in his chair and thought about what he'd just heard.

"Could this guy be telling the truth? Willi wondered.

"Hogsmead it is" Willi reply with calculated tone" and with that I must leave you be now. It is getting late and I have a long flight home."

Willi got up to leave putting his hand out to Lucius hoping that this guy really was what he said he was.

He nodded. "It may be a bit of time, as I'm not sure when I'll next see the appropriate parties. Thanks for the drinks, though, and I should see you around." He sipped at his stout, coming to the bottom of his second glass.

He reached out his hand, and shook Willi's. "Safe flight then, William."

"An a great night to you as well" he replied.

Turning to leave he wondered at the twist of fate what had been a shity little bar turned out to be just what he was looking for.
Willi mounted his broom with ease and pushed off for what would be a long yet happy flight home.

[Exit to A New Day.]

Roddy whispered to the walls, again, before his forehead lowered onto Lucky's shoulder, clearing Sev's face with a dim giggle, following the American's exit. "Blood and bones, Lucky, you know the oddest --"

In a quick calculation, he realised he was no more blood of the land to Lucky than was the American. It was an uncomfortable sense, to be judged against another as foreign as himself, even on his own land, even by his own senses. Was that all he was, too? Foreign blood for the sake of prestige?

He sat back, suddenly, confusion and disgust plain on his face for a moment, before he managed to cram it back down, where it belonged. This was Lucky, he was talking to. Lucky was more to him than that. He was more to Lucky than that... or at least he thought so...

But, what if he didn't actually belong, like he thought he did? No, now was not the time for such things. Tonight was Lucky's birthday. His face was still pretty and thoughtless as he picked up the pint glass, to finish it off, but his eyes were wrong. He looked at Sev, for a long moment as he swallowed. How did he cope?

It didn't take a Legilimens to see that Roddy had slipped a notch, but with his slim skill in that regard, Severus took a look, and found himself faced with some patently ugly ideas. Roddy doubted him -- that was fine, he was used to being seen as untrusted and untrustworthy, but Lucky? That was unusual. And for Roddy to doubt himself -- he'd never seen such a thing, unless it involved a sober fistfight.

Before he could think twice about it, he raised a hand and touched Roddy's hair, tucking a lock behind the Irishman's ear. "Now you know what it's like to be me," he said quietly, finally turning his eyes away, as he started on the pint of mead.

Setting the glass down, he turned his attention to Lucky. "I suppose this means we have to be pleasant to that berk."

"What was that, Roddy?" he asked, a hint of concern in his voice, as he reached out to take the Irishman's hand in his, again. He was a bit concerned by this turn of events.

"Yes, Severus, we have to be polite. I don't much like the berk, either. Met him in an American pub, and got to talking about politics. I had no idea he was serious enough to come to England for things. Hopefully, I can pass him off to someone else to handle, and then I'll only see him at meetings." He sighed. "And I didn't suggest he prove his worth because I figure him for front line spell fodder. You, on the other hand, have gifts, and would be wasted as such. I wanted to make sure that fact got noticed." He gave Severus a rather serious look.


He sipped his stout again. "And as for his importance, you notice I didn't mention it was my birthday to him, after all. That's reserved for the people who matter. And I certainly wouldn't give him an open invitation to my home."

"Whatever happened to a good, sensible two and a half states of regard? Out, In, and 'I Haven't Made Up My Bloody Mind'." Severus looked up at Lucky, disgusted at the current state of human affairs, and their complexity. "None of this 'Only in bars or on Merchant Street on Thursdays, but never in the library or in the road, unless it's in Rome on a Wednesday evening' rubbish."

"The oddest people." Roddy's smile slipped a notch, and his eyes still weren't quite right, as he watched for Lucky's response. "You know the oddest people."

"Yes, and I'm sitting with two of them," Lucky said offhandedly.

"It's just not that simple, Sev. There are friends, of which I actually have few. That includes the pair of you. Then there are people I know, and feel a need to stay conected to for political reasons, and then there are people I just can't ever be arsed with. Is that simple enough for you>" he asked sarcastically.

Roddy didn't take the answer well, as it seemed to confirm his earlier doubts. He was, of course, also rather drunk. Snatching his hand back from Lucky, he downed the rest of Sev's pint, having not looked to what glass he was grabbing, and stood up in a huff.

"Sorry," he said, with a quick glance at Sev. "I'll get you another, on my way back."

Really, he just needed to get away from the table for a bit. He dashed off toward the bathroom, looking a great deal more solidly sober than he was. He had, after all, been drinking since noon, and feeling the tilt since Lucky had shown up at the house, earlier.

He couldn't stay pissed at Lucky -- it was Lucky, for Auntie's sake. That American had upset more than just the mood of the evening...

"Just because you can --" Severus blinked as his pint of mead vanished.

He stared owlishly after Roddy, as the Irishman stormed off. "What's with him?"

In sheer frustration, Lucky tossed back the rest of his second pint, and started in on the third. "No fucking clue. I know he's touchy today, that much was clear when I showed up." He sighed. "I give him 15 minutes before I head to check on him, if he hasn't emerged."

Severus rested his face on his hand, looking lazily sideways at Lucius. "I know it's impolite, but I had a look, before he left. I don't understand it, but I saw."

He stared sadly into his empty pint glass for a few moments, willing it to refill itself, but it refused to comply. "Something about you having us around to make yourself look better. I'm sure that can't be right, because we're hardly the sort of people you'd want people to know you hang out with -- I'm not exactly a Pureblood, and he's one of those crazies that keep trying to blow up England. I saw it, but it doesn't make sense."

((He's not a really good Legilimens, yet, and he's fucking hammered.))

He looked at Severus for a moment, and then laughed. It took him a couple of minutes to recover enough to respond. "Daft fucker," he said. "You two are in the very small group of people whose company I actually enjoy. I like you because I don't have to be the man you saw with Wili just then around you. Because you're intelligent, too. And Roddy's got it in his head that I keep you around to make myself look good? Merlin, that's what Crabbe and Goyle are for. If I ever felt a need for it."

He sighed. "I was raised for Ministry politics. Which means that a good deal of the time, I play them. Now, it's down to the pair of you, and Narcissa, that I don't feel a need to do it constantly in front of."

Severus reached into the top of his boot and dangled a pewter keychain in front of Lucky. "I don't doubt you. I have a portkey to your house."

He grinned foolishly, for a moment, then put the object back. "Roddy's the one struggling with your affections. I don't know why, but he doesn't know where he stands, with you -- and for some peculiar reason, that matters quite a bit."

Laying his forehead against the table, Severus started, again. "Bloody damned floor keeps tilting. This is going to sound wrong, no matter how I say it, so I'll just say it. You mean more to him, than you do to me -- and I like you quite a bit."

"Y'know, that's part of what the fuck I was trying to tell you both, earlier. I showed up here, because I was worried about you."

He sighed. "The sex probably just confuses things," he said. "Because I don't plan to be involved with him like that forever," he said. "I'll hopefully marry Narcissa, and if you'd seen the women I was supposed to find a wife among, you'd understand why."

Lucky sipped at his stout again, and spoke. "There have been five people in my life who truly mattered to me, Severus. You and Roddy are on that list. I just don't know how to make him see it."

Severus turned an alarming shade of red, and sat bolt upright -- a horrible mistake that made itself perfectly clear when the entire room made a few swift revolutions about his head. "You're having sex with him!?"

He held onto the table, as the room began to slow, still tipping from side to side as it spun. "I thought you two were just screwing around. Fucking with my head, as it were. I know Roddy's that way, but you? Really? And, not just kissing and bum-slapping, either..."

He put his head back on the table. Sitting up was too confusing. "Breaking up with him isn't going to help, you know. I'd say something intelligent and useful, but I'm not exactly the master of relationships, myself."

Lucky collapsed in helpless laughter again. When he'd regained his composure, he looked at Sev. "Yes. We are. I happen to like both, Severus. And Roddy and I aren't in a relationship, per se. He does as he wishes, and so do I."

He sipped at his drink. "I care about him, and maybe that's what he needs to know."

"Best of luck with that. Doesn't end well, on my tally," Severus muttered into the table. "But if it's what he wants to hear, maybe you should tell him."

There was a long pause, during which he tried to re-order his senses. "How do you stand it? Not Roddy -- nothing against Roddy. But, all the -- the touching? It just seems sickening."

He sighed. "The touching feels better with people you trust, Sev. Among other things," he said, sipping at his stout. "Some things I can't put words to, certainly not while drinking."

"Trust. Right. That's probably why Roddy still has fingers, after the last couple of days..." Sev shook his head, rolling it against the table, and promptly regretted the action. "Sorry, didn't mean to say something stupid, and distract you."

He struggled to put the pieces of an idea together. He wasn't very good at the subject, and he was far more drunk than he ever wanted to be, again. "I think, maybe, you should go find him, if you're going to tell him you care. Because, if you wait until he comes back, that could mean that you don't." The words were slow and measured. "I made that mistake, once, and now I can't take it back."

"Wasn't stupid, Sev. And I don't know how many other people even come close to understanding. I was at Hogwarts before I dared so much as slouch. And after my mum died, it's not like there was much of that at home."

He sighed. "I suppose I best go find him. You'll be all right?" he asked, as he made to stand up.

"Worst I'll do is puke on the floor, I think. Go, before I have to watch you fuck this up." Severus flipped a hand at Lucky, dismissively, never lifting his head.

Lucky nodded, and turned away, determined to find Roddy. He was slightly unsteady on his feet, leading to a bit of weaving as he headed to the bathroom in search of his friend.

Roddy sat on the sink, in a bathroom equally dingy to the rest of the pub, smoking a cigarette and braiding his hair. Well, it might have been braiding if it were a less complex pattern. Best to call it 'weaving'. He'd dropped a few plaits, and it didn't align perfectly, but, on the whole, it was still an impressive feat.

Looking bitter and sulky, he flicked ash into the next sink over as Lucky walked in.

Lucky moved over close to Roddy. "Hey, what's up?" he asked. "We were a bit worried, so I figured I'd come and see what you're up to."

If Roddy were a basilisk, the look he levelled at Lucky would have been fatal. As it stood, it was no pleasant glance. "I'm smoking. What the shit does it look like I'm doing."

Roddy tucked the smoke between his lips, and put a few more complex stitches into his hair. "I'm also not drinking, you'll mark. I've been drunk for three straight days, you know."

He looked up at Lucky, caught his eyes. "Was it his worries or yours?"

"Both, actually," he said seriously. "I've been a bit worried about you since I got to your place earlier. I was just letting you put me off because you seemed to want to." He kept his gaze on Roddy's eyes as he spoke.

"Aye, well, for all I thought I was done running my mouth about that, it was just up the road a few miles. I'm glad I wasn't here to see it -- the photos in the news were bad enough. Made the Wizarding press, too, you know. They killed enough of ours to turn heads, just like when Uncle Rob --"

Roddy stopped talking, flicking ash into the sink, again. "Politics," he scoffed. "And for all of it, where do I stand with you? I'll be your toy, as long as you'll have me, but I won't be your pawn."

He moved and took Roddy in his arms. "Hey," he said gently. "Never my pawn. I don't know what's got you thinking that," he said with a sigh. "I tried to tell you that earlier, there have been five people who really matter to me, and you are one of them." He leaned in and kissed Roddy's cheek.

"You matter, when idiots like that don't," he said. "I was trying to get him out of here, so I could be back to having fun with you and Sev."

"Having fun, eh?" Roddy dropped his smoke into the neighbouring sink, as his lips twisted into a teasing smirk. "I don't know that Sev's up for our kind of fun," he joked.

He stood, then, leaving his hair only a quarter done, and slipped his arms around Lucky's waist, resting his head on the other man's shoulder. "I'm a fool, I am that. And it's your birthday. I'm sorry."

He snorted. "Not that kind of fun, no," he said. He leaned in and kissed the top of Roddy's head. "It's ok. I only actually celebrate with the important people anyways. But don't worry. There's nothing to be sorry for anyways." He held Roddy close, enjoying the warmth of his body.

Roddy lifted his head and stole a proper kiss from Lucky. "Damned if you're not sappy when you're tilted."

Everything wasn't as right as it could have been, but the worst of it slid off Roddy like a river-soaked peacoat. He could feel the chills draw out of him as the fear was pushed aside. The wretched anger and loathing loosened, falling away, as some sense of stability returned.

In a sudden motion, his head turned, eyes darting to the door. "You've left Sev by himself out there. Dressed as blood of mine, drunk, and surly. Ah, shite."

He let go of Lucky, at once, and bolted to the door. "Here's hoping there are enough pieces of him left to pick up!"

Lucky shrugged. "Sev was okay with it," he said as he followed the other man out the door.

Severus looked up, suddenly, much to the lasting regret of his stomach, as Roddy skidded to a halt, boots forward, beside the table. He gazed up, dazedly, belatedly noticing Lucius.

"You look better," he said, dizzily laying his head back, against the corner of the wall. "But, Lucky looks kind of put out."

He looked contemplative, for a moment, before leaning to the right, to puke on the floor, quietly, but thoroughly. After several minutes, he raised his head, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Hey, the room stopped moving. That's good, right?" He grinned awkwardly up at Roddy. "Sorry about the floor. I'll get it when I'm sure I won't take my foot off, trying."

"Too drunk to fight, he is," Roddy commented, unnecessarily. "I know you've got your wand on you, Lucky. Could you...? I'd do it, but I don't think I'd be much better than Sev, right now."

He dropped back into the chair on Sev's left and checked the little drunkard's eyes, before he went to fetch a glass of water and a bowl of crackers, from the bar.

He shrugged, and came to stand where he had a clear sight of the mess. "Evanesco," he said with a deliberate precison, his wand aimed properly. "There. Not sure I'll be able to do that it I have too much more to drink, though. This is why we drink where we can walk back to where we're staying," he said with a smile. "Drunken apparition is not a good idea, ever."

"And not put out. Just startled when Roddy bolted out here to make sure you hadn't fallen afoul of anyone." With this, he sat back down, and sipped his stout, eyeing the bottle of whisky.

"That Mary is a very nice lady. I can't think of any reason I'd fall afoul of her -- I haven't got Roddy's mouth, after all. Everyone else is too interested in their own drinks to care." Severus felt a little better about the floor, now that Lucky had taken care of it and made the point about drinking and Apparating. Apparently, there were worse faux pas than losing your dinner in a public place.

Still, it had been something of a loss..."I wish I hadn't lost the cabbage. It was much better going down than coming up."

He looked up. "Did you get him straightened out?"

"Mostly," he said quietly. "He's convinced I'm soppy, but I think he's got a better handle on things."

He chuckled. "I'm sure there'll be more cabbage tomorrow. And he's worried, because you rather look like one of his cousins in that. You've met his cousins, and their habits," he said with a raised eyebrow.

Severus turned whiter than he was -- which was a neat trick, frankly -- and looked frantically down at the kilt, the shirt, and his hands, to and fro among them for a few moments. "Merlin's beard! I'd better not look that much like them. He thought someone might... Oh... Oh, bloody hell."

He sunk into his seat, hiding in the corner, before he took the last shot at Lucky. "And, he thinks you're soppy, because you are soppy -- but only around him."

Roddy set the bowl of crackers down, along with two glasses of water. "I'd have gotten you one, Lucky, but you don't look half as bad as I do, and I don't look half as bad as he does."

"But, it calls for a toast, it does! Here's to learning your limits, so you don't overshoot them too often, in quare embarrassing and richly public ways!"

Lucky raised his glass of stout to clink with the water glasses of the other two, and took a deep swallow. "It also helps that this is my third stout, and I'm just now drinking it." He smiled as he sipped. "We all have to learn out limits, sometimes repeatedly."

Smiling, he spoke again. "And yes, Sev, you might pass for one of them. Which means exactly what you just thought. I hadn't realised you missed the warning about that earlier."

"It sounded like a good idea to be related to him, earlier! 'The pub of my father's fathers' and all that talk! It sounded safer to be related, than to just be here!" Severus hissed, in Lucky's direction, raising the glass of water to make the toast.

At least, Lucky was making him sound a little less like the horse's ass of the evening. He could live with that.

"It is a good idea to be related to me -- just not all by yourself, where someone used to the cousins might come and take a try for you. You should have seen the first time I had Lucky in here, and threw him to the dogs." Roddy drank the water no differently than he'd drunk the stout. "Actually, that's an untruth. I let him throw himself to the dogs, I did."

He pointed at Sev. "You, on the other hand, you're not built like he is. I don't want to see things go wrong on you."

"And I had a right good time doing it. I needed a fight then, anyhow. And I think I managed some respect, at least, when the ugly things aren't so fresh in mind."

Lucky smiled grimly. "One of the benefits of so many years as chaser. It leaves me good in a bar brawl. And I agree with Roddy, that you don't need that kind of trouble on your own."

"I don't need any trouble, regardless of circumstance. I think I've had about enough of it, already." Severus managed to look disapproving, before he realised it made his head hurt, in his current condition. "This whole ludicrous 'getting punched in the face for fun' thing is entirely beyond me."

"Sev, one of these days, we'll take you out into a good fight -- one where you can get a few solid hits in and know nobody will get you too bad, because we'll be there to knock their brains loose -- and you'll see it. There's nothing like a good knock-down drag-out." Roddy cracked his knuckles and smiled, thoughtfully. "I want to do a pub in Belfast, for my birthday. Maitiu's been promising me some new toys, and I really want to put them to use as soon as I get them. It'll be a glorious disaster, Lucky."

His cheeks flushed with excitement, and he smiled like a boy who's been handed a whole bag of cotton candy.

"We just have to be careful that no one will make a mistake regarding this Englishman," he said, thumping himself in the chest.

Lucky uncapped the whisky, and took a swig, before settling it on the table and recapping it. "You've not been in that kind of trouble yet, Sev. And I, for one, enjoy the adrenaline."

"Adrenaline is sorely overrated," Severus said, sourly. "I'm here so that my eyebrows don't start falling out from the usual summer levels of toxicity, remember?"

He chewed on a handful of crackers for a bit, sifting through his mind, and recalling that geography was never one of his strong points. "And where the hell is Belfast, anyway?"

Roddy slapped Sev up the back of the head before he had time to notice his hand was moving. "It's in the North, y'idjit. Capital thereof, it is. Blood and bones, what are they teaching in schools these --"

He realised what he was saying as it was coming out of his mouth. "Shut up, Lucky."

Lucky was laughing so hard his face fell to the table again. When he'd managed to stop, he spoke. "No, I wouldn't have the slightest clue about an unpleasant home life, Severus. That's why I've been travelling Europe as much as possible since I graduated. My father still holds control over the family gold, and if I want to have any fun at all, I have to toe the line quite a bit myself."

He looked at Severus and rolled his eyes. "And yes, I know it's not the same thing. Just reminding you that you aren't the only one with a stressful homelife." With that statement, he finished off his glass of stout.

Your clues and my reality bear no resemblance to one another, Severus thought, with a sharp glance at Lucius, as he rubbed the back of his head.

"I know three towns on sight, Roddy: London, Hogsmeade, and Sunderland. How am I supposed to know where Belfast is? I don't even rightly know where I am, at the moment, since I don't think 'somewhere in Ireland' counts."

Roddy laughed at Sev's confusion and bounced a cracker off his nose. "You're in Ballycastle by the border, which is neither Ballycastle by the sea, nor Ballycastle in the North. I'll get you a map, when we get back to the house. Tell me you can at least find Ireland on a map..."

Severus laid his ears back and bounced a cracker off Roddy's forehead. "Of course I can find Ireland on a map. I'm not completely hopeless. I just don't get out much, and don't really see the point of knowing the coordinates of places I'll never meet, except in books and when I have to buy ingredients from them. Seems like a recipe for unhappiness -- like taunting myself..."

Lucky laughed again. "Sev, you're a wizard. When you're of age, you can apparate quite a few places. I wouldn't advise trying to cross a full ocean that way, though. Just too damn far." Lucky leaned forward to rest his chin in his hands.

"Maybe we'll have to go visit some of Europe some summer. It's not like apparition costs, and I can afford a place to stay," he said in speculation of future entertainment.

"I don't know that I really want to go to them," Severus confessed, between crackers. "I'm afraid I'll stop believing. It'll make a lousy person of me, and I'm not so good at that to begin with.

"Ireland's enough, this summer. I have a home, and I won't give myself reason to resent it." He caught Lucky's eye. "Dislike it? Stay away from it? Sure. But, I can't let the world fake me out."

He looked up at Roddy. "I sound completely daft, don't I? I swear to you, it makes sense. It makes sense like your need to get decked, except it makes sense to me."

"I'll have it known that I don't have a need to get decked. I need to hit people. It's a whole other doing, even if it does tend to involve the other, by turns of circumstance." Roddy levelled a teasing grin at Sev. "I like getting blood on my hands. It turns me on."

The reaction was worth the shot.

Lucky smiled a Roddy, a wild and smoldering look in his eyes. "There's just something satisfying about violence, isn't there?" he asked, sounding very certain.

Lucky rolled his eyes. "Didn't say this summer, after all. Just keep it in mind, if you're ever up for something different for a weekend. And home is home, however much time I spend away from mine."

"I wouldn't say satisfying. Not quite. But, damned -- twice-damned -- if it doesn't quicken the blood for a good round or two," Roddy nearly purred, clenching one hand into a fist on the table, to keep himself for idly reaching to toy with Sev -- with any part of Sev. Instead, he slipped a foot up Lucky's kilt, and contented himself with one of the two lush young Englishmen at his table.

One of these days, he'd have Sev, too. Roddy always got what he wanted, but if he pushed too soon, he knew it would all be that much harder. He wondered, briefly, where the thought had even come from, but looked again, and realised it was the whiskey making him see the obvious. He did, to some extent, have a kink for majesty in discomposure.

"You," Severus pointed at Roddy, "just need to be drunk more often."

It seemed a completely ridiculous thing to say, until he explained his reasoning. "A little whiskey in you, and you're ready to bloody anything that gets near you, but how many times have I had to scrape you off the floor, cowering, snivelling, and bloody -- and dead sober. Stay drunk, maybe it'll keep the blood on you from being yours. And it'll keep me the hell out of it."

"All right, Lucky. Maybe some other time." He didn't mean it, but it seemed the right thing to say. He didn't promise after all.

"Or something", Lucky muttered, his face suddenly slightly flushed. "And I didn't meant satisfying in quite that sense. That's for afters," he said. "But that there's something pure, and clean about it sometimes, in a way, that can't really be otherwise explained."

"Blood goes in bottles. Then it goes in potions. It doesn't go well on hands," Severus protested with a small shiver. "It's a very ... inside thing. Wants a container."

He struggled to express that strangest of ideas, lodged deep in him, that blood was a private thing, even when it wasn't his own. To see someone's blood was as bad as walking into a room of naked people, but worse, somehow. It was as if the privacy of blood had replaced the privacy of thought, in his mind, since he'd yet to encounter a person he couldn't read at least a little -- aside from his mother, of course.

Roddy privately thought it was Sev that wanted a container, with all his talk of not leaving the places he knew, or letting the blood fall where it might. He had just barely enough sense to check his tongue as the sentiment began to pass his lips. Instead, he responded to Lucky. That was always easy.

"Everything's in the blood, and sometimes you've just got to let it out. And fists are more fun than leeches, any day of the week, they are."

Severus shuddered and grabbed at his hair, leaning over between his chair and Roddy's to throw up, again. After a bit of retching, he sat up and reached for his water and a few crackers.

"Sorry," he said, half-heartedly. "I'll get that in a minute, as soon as I'm sure I won't do it again."

Blood on the door, blood on the stairs, blood on the floor, blood in my hair...

Shut up!

You're not going to tell me you saw nothing... You saw everything. You saw it all. The grinding of the gears, the mallet's fall, the splashing waves of red...

SHUT UP!

You remember her eyes, don't you? That dead stare...

He leaned over and puked again, this time, coming up empty. He looked raw and shaken as he reached for his wand. There was no harm in cleaning it up, now that nothing more would come out.

"Just a little too much, I guess." His hands shook, but his aim was still better than Roddy's. "Evanesco."

Roddy put a hand on Sev's back, leaning over to get a better look at him. "You're not looking so hot, Sev. Maybe we should get you back to have a lie down."

"What do you think, Lucky? Should we grab the bottle, for us, and get him out of here?"

Lucky nodded. "I've had enough of the pub, tonight. C'mon, Sev," he said, offering an arm to the teen. "You'll feel better if you sleep some of it off, anyhow."

Severus stood, and the change in position brought back the drunkenness he thought he'd left on the floor. "If I lay down, is everything going to stop spinning?"

He grabbed onto Lucky's arm, holding tightly and hoping he could stay standing long enough to make it back to the Freehold. "I should have listened, Roddy. I'm so sorry. When does this stop?"

"About fifteen minutes after we get you in the door. Dad's got a potion for this sort of thing. He keeps it in the cupboard for nights like these." Roddy laughed, faintly, as he took Sev's other arm, looking concerned. "My brother and I took a couple years to learn how not to need it."

Lucky slipped the arm that Sev was leaning on under his shoulders and around his back. "Ok, let's get you to that potion, Sev. Slow and careful, though. No point moving too fast and causing more trouble." He grabbed the bottle off of the table in his other hand, and waited for someone to start moving.

Roddy nodded at Lucky, and stepped forward. "We'll get you there, boyo. No worries."

[DONE]