(Untitled)

[mostfalldown]

Date: January 21st, 2007
Time: Very early in the morning.
Location: The Leaky Cauldron
Characters Involved: Seamus Finnigan, Fern Magnussen
Rating: PG

Comments

[golden_armor]

Aurin was exhausted. The investigation was taking a huge emotional and physical toll on his whole team, and, being who he was, he'd been trying to take on a heavier workload so that they could have some time off. Even Carson, bastard though he was, had noticed, and had lately stopped trying to get in Aurin's way.

Wearing his official uniform, Aurin trudged home through the early morning streets, too exhausted to do anything but drag his feet along one step at a time. A nasty looking scratch on his arm, gotten while pawing through the underbrush around Malfoy Manor for trace evidence (which hadn't been there anyway), throbbed whenever his cloak brushed against it. He hummed under his breath to keep his mind off the desire to simply sit down and go to sleep in a doorway. His choice of song, an old sea shanty that had been stuck in his head all day, was suddenly joined by a quiet chorus.

Startled, Aurin looked up and found that he'd arrived at the door of the Leaky Cauldron, and the song he was currently humming was being sung by the few patrons left inside. Checking the sign on the door against his watch, Aurin decided he had time for a firewhiskey before he headed home. Hell, after the week he'd had, he deserved a drink.

Entering, Aurin took his cloak off and hung it on the rack near the door. Pulling up a barstool, he leaned on his elbows. The circles under his eyes and the worried look he carried constantly of late were both signs pointing to a man in need of a drink. Poking at the scratches on his arms (healing well thanks to various salves, but still stinging), Aurin sighed, asking the young lady behind the bar, "Could you see your way to getting me a glass of firewhiskey, perchance? I promise I'll be gone before closing time."

[mostfalldown]

The quiet jingle of the bell above the door had interrupted the song of the old wizards. It was barely a moment before the started singing again, but it was enough to draw Fern's attention from her book. She sighed at the sight of the man -- it appeared the night would never ever. She kept her nose down, burried in her book, hoping he would decide against taking up a seat and head home. When he didn't retreat out of the pub, her shoulders fell a slight degree with disappointment.

Fern would choose to ignore him, not until he left but until she finished her paragraph at least. When she did, she stood up straight against the bar. She removed her reading glasses, square little black frames, and left them on the book as though the broken binding had threatened to close.

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that." Fern said. Her voice was soft and girly, and though her Scottish accent caused vowels to catch in her throat or roll in odd places, it added even more charm to her speech. "The two in the corner are old Scottish gentleman. They're not leavin' until someon shoos 'em out." She remarked nodding her head in their direction. "And I'm waitin for the broom to finish."

She pushed away from the bar to the bottles behind her. The one with the dancing flames was pulled down and set on the bartop before she spoke again. "As nice as your promise is, it won't excuse you from a 'Please Miss'."

[safinnigan]

Seamus came back from the kitchen, highly entertained to see a rather exhausted Fern almost waiting on Aurin - an Aurin that looked as exhausted as Fern did. Was he the only one who got used to being awake in the wee hours of the morning? He was nearly always up on and off during the night anyway. He carried the fresh tray of glasses back behind the bar, putting them away for the ‘morrow with ease.

“Cheers Aurin, howya, mate?” He greeted his friend with a warm smile. Then it broadened a bit as he moved to stand extremely close to the petite lass just so’s he could look down on her when he said, “Lost are ye, luv? Or ‘twas it a lift ye were after to be reachin’ the bottle then, lass?” He couldn’t maintain his mock serious tone very long, not with Fern. The two friends and co-workers entertained each other with cajoling and friendly banter that made the long working hours move more swiftly.

He quickly poured Aurin a stiff drink of firewater and set it in front of the Auror on a fresh Leaky barmat. Then he put up a dish of crisps on the bar within Aurin’s easy reach.

“Good for what ails you then, mate, ‘specially this late in the even’ now, lad.” Then he smiled down at Fern. “Well then, canst I be after getting you something, lass? You look as done in as our customer here. Right, did you offer our latecomer anything to eat, luv? There’s no doubt a bit o’ something left in the kitchen should he be wanting it.”

[golden_armor]

((eek, I completely flaked on this thread for so long! Sorry!))

Shaking his head, Aurin gave the girl a tired grin. "Of course it won't. My manners seem to have fled me. Let me rephrase, then: I'd like a firewhiskey please, miss."

Just then, Aurin saw Seamus headed toward them from the kitchen. He brightened considerably at the sight of his old friend. "Cheers to you too, Seamus. Long time no see!" He took a large gulp of the whiskey, relishing the burning as it ran down his throat. "As to how I am, well, things have been better and things have been worse. Mostly I've been working a lot of late hours. I actually just got off work a few minutes ago," he said, indicating the cloak hanging by the door.

"Speaking of work," Aurin said in a teasing tone, "You look awfully chipper for this time of morning. Is a barman's job really that easy, or are you just a night owl?"

[mostfalldown]

"Thank you, sir." Fern said brightly, turning to Seamus with a big grin on her face as though she hadn't at all heard anything he'd said. "That is what I was waitin' for, ya big oaf." She remarked, pushing herself off the counter since Aurin had been gifted his drink from Seamus already. Before she'd walk away from the two, however, she'd lift a few of the crisps for herself. Sweeping was a difficult task!

"Don't you go givin' him too much credit now. I bet he's gone and had himself a nap for the past half hour. That's how it is he looks so chipper." A solemn nod accompanied her wager, so serious that one might have believed she was speaking the truth. It was the wink that would completely discredit her as she turned to help Seamus put the last of the glasses up. She had to stand on her tip-toes to reach the second shelf, but she was able to shove the glasses across the wood just fine. It was the top shelf that was her enemy. A few times she'd attempted jumping up to put the glasses away -- it was an attempt that ended in the disaster of taking five or six glasses out along with the one she had been trying to put up.

Fern eyed Seamus for a long moment, then the top shelf, and then Seamus again. "Oy, come here and kneel down. I'll be needing myself a wee step up!"

[safinnigan]

Seamus nodded at Aurin, wondering what it was he was about so late in the evening, but discretion was part and parcel of his talent as a barman, so he did not inquire. If Aurin wished to discuss it, he would, knowing Seamus was the very soul of discretion.

“Aye, mate, ‘tis a barman’s lot to be keeping late hours then.” The Leaky Cauldron had extended its hours along with the extention of the curfew for the cursed Registry. Seamus was working more late hours, and more hours in general in the New Year. It was good for his Gringott’s account but came at a personal cost. “Well then, ‘tis an easy job if you like the work, which this Irishman does. Born to it, mate, that’s this Seamus.” Then he eyed Fern skeptically. “Right, then there’s the hired help.” He tried to be stern in his look towards his friend and co-worker, but couldn’t manage it. Fern was too likeable in her own right and he was quite fond of the lass. “Hardly works, this one,” he said, patting her familiarly on the top of her head as he gestured over to the broom doing her job of sweeping. “Well then, thinks waving her wand amounts to a full day’s work, does this one.”

He and Fern liked to banter back and forth during their shifts together, it made the time go by more pleasantly and they enjoyed each other’s company. When she blithely asked him to kneel so she could reach the top shelf, he shook his head and captured the lass by the waist, lifting her easily up to sit on the edge of the back bar.

“’Tis more than a wee step up you’ll be needing lass, taking that tone with the barman when you’re back here in his territory now, luv.” He stepped back and laughed at her, not entirely sure she could get down on her own. Then he relented and set her carefully back on her feet. Seamus loved to joke, but he didn’t have a mean bone in his body. If you didn’t count the war.

[golden_armor]

Sleepiness had hit Aurin of a sudden, and he put his chin down on his arm, raising his head only when needed to sip his drink. He rolled his sleeve back and inspected the scratch on his arm, tempted to try a healing charm on it but afraid he'd mess it up in his less-than-attentive state.

"It's lucky you are then, mate," Aurin replied, staring off into space. He'd slipped into odd, Victorian speech patterns, a habit of his from school that came creeping back whenever he was tired. Elsie used to tease him about it..."Few are those blessed with truly enjoyable work."

Watching Seamus and Fern, and the easy, amiable dynamic between the two, put him in mind of the days when he'd had more time to work with Parvati and Toviel at Alecto's. He missed them, and he missed the shop and the animals. Working menial side-jobs under Carson was taking a toll on him, emotionally and physically. He sighed and took a large gulp of his drink. He was feeling the effects, but not the way he'd hoped to. Instead of washing away his worries, Aurin was descending into the realm of the maudlin.

"...'Least in the war I was doing something important..." he muttered into his sleeve, eyes on his glass. Seamus' cheerful presence, which normally would've cheered Aurin considerably, was doing nothing for him, except making him feel guilty that he was inflicting himself on his friend while in such a mood, which of course only made him feel worse. It was a vicious cycle.

He needed more whiskey.

[mostfalldown]

"Seamus!" Fern squeaked, clinging to the Irishman's shoulders as she was lifted from the floor. It most certainly wasn't the first time she'd been picked up, not even by Seamus, but it was something she was sure she'd never get used to. When she was safely on the counter, she would reach forward to swat at his shoulder. She would also attempt to put the glass up, and still fail.

Fern took up glaring at Seamus.

"Don't you go listenin' to a thing he says," Fern mentioned, turning her attention to Aurin. "I work hard. It's him who's the slacker, stayin' in the back all day, testing the food." She nodded in a very sage-like manner, casting a suspicious glance at Seamus. It would fade quickly as he helped her down.

Her playfullness would fade rather quickly with Aurin's comment. Her lips were tugged downwards into a frown - an expression she seldom wore. "Don't go sayin' that." She said softly, leaning against the counter nearest to him. "That's hardly a time to be wishin' anything from."

[safinnigan]

Seamus bore all of Fern’s accusations well. It was much easier to do that since the lass was totally beholden to him for getting her down - not to mention putting up the glass for her - which he did without comment.

He caught Aurin’s fixation on his nearly empty glass and remedied that with a healthy dose of firewater.

“Aurin, mate, your service is still of import to us then, lad.” He wasn’t normally one to speak up forthrightly, but he felt he knew Aurin well enough and it was certainly late enough for him to share his own personal opinion with a friend, with only two other Order Members, both friends to overhear it. “’Tis only your service and also me friend Tonks that keeps this Irishman from fearing the total demise of the cute hoors of the Ministry of Magic, then mate.”

It was too true. He could barely stomach anything they did, and the idea that Aurin did not value his own presence was most unfortunate. But for Tonks and Aurin he thought the whole lot of them might be packed off to the hinderlands with the world better for it, at least his part of the wizarding world.

“Be proud of the good thou engeneder then, lad. For without you and our Tonks, ‘twood be naught but a passel of puissant politicians.” His words dripped with disdain, something he rarely shared with others, but his friends knew of his intense dislike and distrust for the MoM. What had they done but take credit for the hard work of the Order? Nothing much, to Seamus’ way of thinking.