"We're fools whether we dance or not..."
"... so we might as well dance".
Aka, the most important purpose of this post is for me and franztastisch to flail about certain dancing AU. (Everyone is welcome!) I am working on a long, angsty, serious, full-of-feels fic and I could use some laughs and fun and plotting and ideas and whatever.
Also, the interesting discussion over at be_compromised prompted me to reread one of my older AUs. It was Harry Potter set in real world. As in, without any magic. And it was also about dancing. I didn't finish it, but now when I re read it I want to go back to it. (In another Strictly come dancing setting Draco Malfoy is a son of a corrupted noble man - Lucius Malfoy is the king of tea. Only he did dirty business on the side along with making England's finest tea - Draco is a classic cellist by profession, secretly disappointed by his own family which has more issues than National Geographic. Hermione (as this is Draco/Hermione - YES I LOVE THAT PAIRING, don't you dare judge me- it's about banter and snark and stubbornness and redemption!) is a professional dancer, as is Ginny and Oliver Wood and Angelina Johnson. Neville is a celebrity cook, Cedric Diggory plays soccer, the Creevy brothers produce TV shows, MAN IT WAS A BLAST I HAD SO MUCH FUN WITH IT.)
So, I'm rereading what I wrote? And really loving it, I'm so fond of this story, and here's this scene (a dialogue between the boys in the contest, with tons of banter, and oh my God, look at my attempts to write British English. Ahahahahaha!)
"... anyway, everything was ruined. All the food, burned. And the guy, I mean, the meanest food critic was out there. Waiting. I was about to have a nervous breakdown when Bertie said, let's put alcohol in everything we give him. So, I mixed a cocktail that could knock out a horse and by the time we reached the main dish, poor old sod was barely sitting," Neville was obviously nearing the state of inebriation he was currently describing. His waving hands had almost knocked down a beer bottle, but Diggory had remarkable reflexes, even when under influence. Draco noticed the parallel nature of his own thoughts, and the way he listened to the conversation while slowly losing the thread that measured his own state of soberness. His sharp sense of rhythms around him was weakening, different beats of three men blurring into numbly pleasant, alcohol induced buzz. Neville was prattling on and after one beer too many he didn't sound as annoying. "He wrote a good review, I've sent him a lunch with desserts to apologize. He likes to tell that story now. People still ask about the cocktail but I don't remember what I've put in it."
They laughed. Draco laughed as well, finding he was far beyond the point of caring.
"Huh," Diggory pointed at him with the top of his beer bottle. "You've lost the frown," he said.
"Brilliantly observed, Football Player," Draco's verbal skills were still intact though. His companions found that hilarious and laughed aloud.
"Enough beer for you, Mister - Cellist," Oliver pretended to confiscate the drink sitting in front of Draco. "Tea time."
Draco glared. They laughed. Draco couldn't really help it - drunken people laughing drunken laughter couldn't be beat with logical arguments. He ought to find illogical ones, but his own brain felt scrambled and slippery, so he laughed along. He didn't particularly want to, but it was easier than anything else.
"Let it be clear, that we shalt all stay away from our dear Neville here and his cooking, when it's the time to dance," Oliver announced. More laughter.
"And we shalt not touch Mister Grumpy Tea's bow," Diggory was attempting to imitate Draco's frown.
"You have to work on that death-glare, Diggory," Draco said. "Also, I think you should all be served a round of tea, because you're butchering proper grammar."
"Well, aren't you the resident authority on tea here?" Oliver asked, and others snickered. Draco had this peculiar feeling, something between being terribly irritated and comfortably amused as Oliver continued to needle him. "Does any go down well with beer?"
"Real men drink it with far stronger stuff," Draco grinned a little evilly, causing a chorus of unison ooohs.
"And that is - what?"
"Ah, nuh - nuh," Draco waved his finger in front of Oliver's face. "You have to prove yourself worthy. Not to mention, being able to handle such experience."
There was more ooohing.
"That was some gauntlet, Malfoy," Neville said.
"Allright," Oliver straightened. "We shall see if you're a man enough to dance samba. Properly," he said.
"God save us," Neville sighed. "For manhood is questioned and tested by tea drinking and arse shaking. Which means we've probably had enough to drink."
"You might be just right, considering that lessons start tomorrow," Diggory said. "And that I'll need a ride home."
"Blimey. Did you really have to ruin my nice mood, eh?" Draco shot back. "I prefer this -" he gestured around the table filled with glasses and bottles, "to dancing."
"Oh, sorry. I forgot you don't like Hermione," Diggory was fast to apologize, but with a significant dose of teasing in his tone.
"Not liking her must be the understatement of the century. Which may not be bad, actually. I cant wait to see what happens with the two of you," Oliver's eyebrow waggle was single mindedly suggestive.
"Wood, even the mere assumption of whatever you were thinking about is completely gross," Draco replied. "Repeat it, and I'll consider myself offended."
"Oh, is it? It seems you were thinking of something particular yourself," Neville shot back. Oliver lifted his hand before Draco could reply to that.
"Is it really true, that she spilled a drink into your face?" Oliver has long lost the little of inner censor that he had. He stared at Draco, waiting for an answer.
"Not into my face, Wood. All over my unique, very expensive shirt. I cried a river," Draco said, rolling his eyes dramatically.
Oliver was about to reply when Draco felt the vibrations of his cell phone that he had put in his backpocket. The number on the display said 'mother', which had a momentarily sobering effect. His mother didn't call him very often, and he had learned long time ago that a phone call from mother rarely meant something positive. The sounds around him came into sharp focus, the rhythms disentangling themselves as the buzz of drinks and laughter faded away.
"Everything okay?" Neville asked and Draco remembered himself, schooling his features into a neutral expression.
"Certainly. Excuse me, fine gentlemen," he smirked in order to keep his reputation intact, "I have to take this call."
*
In other news, Mark Knopfler concert is tomorrow! Yes, envy me.
Here's some amazing music - check out how many awesome people are here. (Aka, you can have Sting as your backing vocals only if your name is Paul McCartney. Or Mark Knopfler. But on a different song).
Speaking of Mark Knopfler, I think he absolutely wins the sophisticated songs award. I seriously don't know another musician who can write such complex music that sounds so effortless and amazing. (Also, he is simply a musician and nothing more - no flashy outfits, no "show", because he and his guitar are the show. Also, his solos. The solo at the end? UGH. Kills me every time!)
This has to be one of the best love songs I know.
Aka, the most important purpose of this post is for me and franztastisch to flail about certain dancing AU. (Everyone is welcome!) I am working on a long, angsty, serious, full-of-feels fic and I could use some laughs and fun and plotting and ideas and whatever.
Also, the interesting discussion over at be_compromised prompted me to reread one of my older AUs. It was Harry Potter set in real world. As in, without any magic. And it was also about dancing. I didn't finish it, but now when I re read it I want to go back to it. (In another Strictly come dancing setting Draco Malfoy is a son of a corrupted noble man - Lucius Malfoy is the king of tea. Only he did dirty business on the side along with making England's finest tea - Draco is a classic cellist by profession, secretly disappointed by his own family which has more issues than National Geographic. Hermione (as this is Draco/Hermione - YES I LOVE THAT PAIRING, don't you dare judge me- it's about banter and snark and stubbornness and redemption!) is a professional dancer, as is Ginny and Oliver Wood and Angelina Johnson. Neville is a celebrity cook, Cedric Diggory plays soccer, the Creevy brothers produce TV shows, MAN IT WAS A BLAST I HAD SO MUCH FUN WITH IT.)
So, I'm rereading what I wrote? And really loving it, I'm so fond of this story, and here's this scene (a dialogue between the boys in the contest, with tons of banter, and oh my God, look at my attempts to write British English. Ahahahahaha!)
"... anyway, everything was ruined. All the food, burned. And the guy, I mean, the meanest food critic was out there. Waiting. I was about to have a nervous breakdown when Bertie said, let's put alcohol in everything we give him. So, I mixed a cocktail that could knock out a horse and by the time we reached the main dish, poor old sod was barely sitting," Neville was obviously nearing the state of inebriation he was currently describing. His waving hands had almost knocked down a beer bottle, but Diggory had remarkable reflexes, even when under influence. Draco noticed the parallel nature of his own thoughts, and the way he listened to the conversation while slowly losing the thread that measured his own state of soberness. His sharp sense of rhythms around him was weakening, different beats of three men blurring into numbly pleasant, alcohol induced buzz. Neville was prattling on and after one beer too many he didn't sound as annoying. "He wrote a good review, I've sent him a lunch with desserts to apologize. He likes to tell that story now. People still ask about the cocktail but I don't remember what I've put in it."
They laughed. Draco laughed as well, finding he was far beyond the point of caring.
"Huh," Diggory pointed at him with the top of his beer bottle. "You've lost the frown," he said.
"Brilliantly observed, Football Player," Draco's verbal skills were still intact though. His companions found that hilarious and laughed aloud.
"Enough beer for you, Mister - Cellist," Oliver pretended to confiscate the drink sitting in front of Draco. "Tea time."
Draco glared. They laughed. Draco couldn't really help it - drunken people laughing drunken laughter couldn't be beat with logical arguments. He ought to find illogical ones, but his own brain felt scrambled and slippery, so he laughed along. He didn't particularly want to, but it was easier than anything else.
"Let it be clear, that we shalt all stay away from our dear Neville here and his cooking, when it's the time to dance," Oliver announced. More laughter.
"And we shalt not touch Mister Grumpy Tea's bow," Diggory was attempting to imitate Draco's frown.
"You have to work on that death-glare, Diggory," Draco said. "Also, I think you should all be served a round of tea, because you're butchering proper grammar."
"Well, aren't you the resident authority on tea here?" Oliver asked, and others snickered. Draco had this peculiar feeling, something between being terribly irritated and comfortably amused as Oliver continued to needle him. "Does any go down well with beer?"
"Real men drink it with far stronger stuff," Draco grinned a little evilly, causing a chorus of unison ooohs.
"And that is - what?"
"Ah, nuh - nuh," Draco waved his finger in front of Oliver's face. "You have to prove yourself worthy. Not to mention, being able to handle such experience."
There was more ooohing.
"That was some gauntlet, Malfoy," Neville said.
"Allright," Oliver straightened. "We shall see if you're a man enough to dance samba. Properly," he said.
"God save us," Neville sighed. "For manhood is questioned and tested by tea drinking and arse shaking. Which means we've probably had enough to drink."
"You might be just right, considering that lessons start tomorrow," Diggory said. "And that I'll need a ride home."
"Blimey. Did you really have to ruin my nice mood, eh?" Draco shot back. "I prefer this -" he gestured around the table filled with glasses and bottles, "to dancing."
"Oh, sorry. I forgot you don't like Hermione," Diggory was fast to apologize, but with a significant dose of teasing in his tone.
"Not liking her must be the understatement of the century. Which may not be bad, actually. I cant wait to see what happens with the two of you," Oliver's eyebrow waggle was single mindedly suggestive.
"Wood, even the mere assumption of whatever you were thinking about is completely gross," Draco replied. "Repeat it, and I'll consider myself offended."
"Oh, is it? It seems you were thinking of something particular yourself," Neville shot back. Oliver lifted his hand before Draco could reply to that.
"Is it really true, that she spilled a drink into your face?" Oliver has long lost the little of inner censor that he had. He stared at Draco, waiting for an answer.
"Not into my face, Wood. All over my unique, very expensive shirt. I cried a river," Draco said, rolling his eyes dramatically.
Oliver was about to reply when Draco felt the vibrations of his cell phone that he had put in his backpocket. The number on the display said 'mother', which had a momentarily sobering effect. His mother didn't call him very often, and he had learned long time ago that a phone call from mother rarely meant something positive. The sounds around him came into sharp focus, the rhythms disentangling themselves as the buzz of drinks and laughter faded away.
"Everything okay?" Neville asked and Draco remembered himself, schooling his features into a neutral expression.
"Certainly. Excuse me, fine gentlemen," he smirked in order to keep his reputation intact, "I have to take this call."
*
In other news, Mark Knopfler concert is tomorrow! Yes, envy me.
Here's some amazing music - check out how many awesome people are here. (Aka, you can have Sting as your backing vocals only if your name is Paul McCartney. Or Mark Knopfler. But on a different song).
Click to viewSpeaking of Mark Knopfler, I think he absolutely wins the sophisticated songs award. I seriously don't know another musician who can write such complex music that sounds so effortless and amazing. (Also, he is simply a musician and nothing more - no flashy outfits, no "show", because he and his guitar are the show. Also, his solos. The solo at the end? UGH. Kills me every time!)
This has to be one of the best love songs I know.