FIC: R: Nevermind The Buzzcocks
Title: Never mind the Buzzcocks (Part 1/8)
Author: Isi
Rating: R
Pairing: Remus/Severus other characters: Regulus, Lucius, James, Lily, Harry, Peter, Sirius.
Challenge: Snupin Santa 2006 at lupin_snape. Join the party!
Summary: A non-magical AU in which we see the world of late 70’s Manchester, and young Severus and Remus’ adoration and emulation of the Sex Pistols. We see this world in two ways. Through Severus’ eyes in the main body of the story and the ‘crackier’ side, through Remus’ various attempts at pulp fiction writing. His work though often clichéd, crosses many genres: Sci-Fi, Fantasy, Western, Horror and Crime Noir Fiction. He hopes you will forgive him, he’s still learning y’know.
Disclaimer: don’t own these characters, just unwrapping them for Christmas.
Warnings: Swearing, drugs/alcohol discussed and used, humour, black humour, sexual situations, moderate descriptions of violence, angst, non-main character death. Cruelty to drummers. Fluff where it counts. Often heavily dialogue based. Verses (and Bridge) are Remus POV then Sev POV, Chorus’s are vice versa. Word count: roughly 23,500 in total (this part about 3,200 )
Notes: Written for maraudersaffair in snupin_santa 2006. Beta'd by the beautiful schemingreader
INTRO…
Sci-Fi Hi-Fi.
The Ship’s bar was smoky. Remus coughed and took a final drag on his thin roll-up cigarette, one of the few things on this strange world that reminded him of Earth. Not that he could remember Earth properly, but he could remember the smell of tobacco that had always accompanied his father.
“Look, there he is.” Peter interrupted his thoughts and pointed a small furry paw.
“What’s he doing?” Remus asked looking to his other friend across the room.
“Got himself a guild didn’t he, and a bird in the same day, lucky flanger.”
Sirius had a new bird (or anything else for that matter) every couple of cams so Remus didn’t really understand how that was lucky. That was just, well, just Sirius. He smiled at Peter and took a drink.
“So when is Spider showing up? I can’t stay out late.”
“He said about 28:00. Wait, you’re staying for Sirius’ debut aren’t you?”
“Yeah, of course but I’m heading back to my quarters about 30:00, I’ve got some work I want to get finished.”
Peter laughed and gave him a look, “I hope you’ll be able to play out late when you get into the musicians guild.”
He grimaced into his purple Vaalucian ale. Bangers. It’s true what they say about them, they really are a species apart. A head of red hair sweeping into his vision interrupted his grimace. Shame, he was rather enjoying that too.
“It is you!” Lily, another of his friends, screeched, ruffling Remus’ powder blue fur before sitting down, “James didn’t recognise you.”
Remus looked towards the bar, “Where is h-” He came face-to-face, or rather face-to-perky-breast with… well, certainly not with James.
“Oh Remus this is Dora. She works with James”.
“All right,” he greeted casually, looking up at her with raised eyebrows and she smiled back at him cheekily, her tail curling circles behind her. No doubt this was another attempt to set him up; James must be running out of people by now.
“Nice to meet you,” she said quietly. Remus took another drink.
As they made brief introductions the girl took a seat beside Lily. The fact that she kept staring at the colour of his fur was not a good sign all things considered. He continued what he had been saying.
“So where’s James?”
“Oh,” Lily briefly glanced towards Dora, “he’s err- talking to a friend. He’ll be right over with our drinks.”
Lily nodded an antenna towards the corner of the room where James sat at a table full of empty glasses with Malfoy. Remus hadn’t done business with him personally, he rarely had the gold for that, but he knew what business Malfoy was in. Contraband. Remus smiled to himself, James getting ‘supplies’ for the night this early also said a lot about Dora's company. Suddenly he was glad his plans for leaving early had already been firmly laid on the table. He felt a sharp nudge to his ribs as Peter leaned in close.
“That’s Spider.”
Spider. Only, he wasn’t. He was, or rather he looked… human. As human as Remus himself, only more so. ‘Spider’ hadn’t been through the aniscan. The name was, however, appropriate. Not a physical manifestation of an animal but the human embodiment of one. Spider was about average height for a human, dressed completely in faded grey-black. The sharp, bony joints of the man’s shoulders were accentuated rather than concealed by a large, shabby coat. He had the appearance of a traveller and yet he appeared completely at home here. He had the strangest walk, a proud confident stride, but his legs appeared to have a few more joins in them than normal. The stringy black hair, hanging nearly to his shoulders, looked like it hadn’t seen water for a month. His pale, earthly skin had a sickly yellowish hue to it making Remus think that maybe ‘Spider’ wasn’t so appropriate after all, but then, ‘very unhealthy wasp’ just didn’t have the same ring to it.
“Jesus.”
Peter and his other friends had no idea who Jesus was, they weren’t religious and even if they had been, the predominant religion in these parts worshipped a halibut called Colin.
“Come on! Excuse us ladies.” Peter flashed a smile at Dora. Remus jumped down and followed him.
“Yeah, what he said.” Remus said turning around to the table.
The pub was smoky as usual and Severus wrinkled his nose as he entered making sure Reg knew exactly how displeased he was. Not that it was Reg’s fault but he had to get his enjoyment somewhere. Reg just laughed and ordered him a cola.
Severus had always hated this place, the dirty loos, the oddly sticky carpet, and the red and nicotine-stained gold flock wallpaper but like most places he hated, it had a sort of warm familiarity about it. At least here the bands were good ...usually. They certainly were when he played. Hopefully, he could get his enjoyment efficiently tonight if this particular band were terrible. Twats.
He sat with his back to the bar, his knees cradling his hands and his hands cradling his drink.
“Looks like Bella isn't happy you’re here to witness the horror,” Reg piped up and Severus idly glanced towards the ‘stage’. The stage was really a small area by the loos cleared of tables for the night. Bella glared at him as she moved aside her long, dark hair and adjusted the guitar strap on her shoulder.
After a brief intro count, the band roared into life; the new singer burst into song like a deranged choirboy.
“Shame.” He smirked to Reg feeling much more agreeable.
He wouldn’t have cared either way, but Severus assumed it was a good thing that Reg didn’t mind him taking the piss out of his brother because he doubted he would stop anytime soon. His replacement - not that he could ever truly be replaced - was an even more abysmal a guitarist than Bella was, so she was now playing lead. It would have been laughable if it weren’t so annoying. His singing couldn’t really be called that either, more of a yodel gone wrong. Well at least they looked good holding the instruments they couldn’t play. Twats.
Of course rather disappointingly, Reg hated his brother for personal reasons that had nothing to do with him being as musically talented as a mouldy potato. For this reason Severus concluded that Reg probably wasn’t an ideal band mate. If only he had the luxury of being so choosy. Reg would have to do, he concluded, as the singer let out a particularly painful screech.
“Bloody amateur” Reg laughed. Well, Reg wasn’t all that bad. A blue swoosh in his peripheral vision distracted him, instinctively he turned.
“God, do you have a red and blue outfit at home to go with your spidey senses?” Severus heard the obvious attempt at humour but all he could see was… Jesus.
“What happened to your head?” a bony, sallow finger pointed in a basic sign language to be understood over the din on stage.
The blue head swished again, this time turning to Pettigrew giving him a ‘are you fucking serious?’ look before turning back to Severus.
“What happened to yours, unfortunate accident with a car door?”
Well, that’s what the young man said if Severus’ lip-reading skills were up to scratch, but he could have said anything. Nobody could be sure with the (suitably) appalling noise of the band. Severus gave Peter the very same look as his blue haired friend had, but decided to give the lanky lad the benefit of the doubt. It was almost amusing although it probably wouldn’t pay to let on. Severus still had some summing up of character to do so he opted for moderately amused.
“Are we going then?” Severus asked levelly as Reg’s brother let out another screeching wail capable of raising the dead. “I’m Severus.” He had to shout to be heard, but his hand was taken in greeting.
“Remus. What did you say?”
Severus leaned forward, close enough for Remus to smell the waft of bleach and pine disinfectant that always seemed to follow Severus around.
“Are. We. Going?”
Severus didn’t know this, but for some reason Remus thought of an unhealthy wasp in a hospital.
“Now?” The music quieted abruptly as Remus spoke and the word resounded loudly around the room. There was another blue swoosh, this time towards the stage. Most of the pub and the ‘singer’ were now looking in Remus’ direction. Remus smiled an apologetic smile his way but it didn’t seem to work. Sirius turned away sulkily to play with his amp knobs… probably trying to turn them up to eleven. Twat. Reg found all of this particularly funny and tittered like a loon behind Severus, who made a mental note not to give him any more dexies - ever.
“Do you really want to stay and listen to that racket,” Reg said just as loudly for effect. Twat. But well, he was an amusing twat, and Severus couldn’t help the smirk that ghosted his lips for a second. Remus and Pettigrew didn’t seem amused. The latter stood uncomfortably trying to avoid looking at anyone. Remus eyes passed to the singer on stage. He dragged a hand through the unruly blue hair.
“That’s our mate you're talking about.”
Bugger. Well, That explains the sulk from Sirius. He couldn’t say much for their choice of mates but at least one of them had bollocks.
“Really? Why?” Reg seemed genuinely confused for a second before grinning smugly, “It’s ok I’m allowed to take the piss, he’s my brother. I’m Reg.”
Severus watched as the two men looked at each other, no doubt Sirius had been complaining about Reg to them for some time, as much as Reg had complained about Sirius to him. This probably wasn’t a good idea and by the looks of things everyone else seemed to be thinking the same thing.
The moment, though not the awkwardness, was broken by the intro count of George, the drummer in Severus’ ex band. As the music started his bright ginger spiky hair bobbed up and down maniacally. Fucking Drummers. Severus smiled his amused smile again, catching Remus mid-eye roll. Despite his friendship with the moron at the mike Remus must have been of the same opinion when it came to drummers. Severus leaned in once more,
“We going or not?”
Remus seemed to consider a brief moment. Looking again at the sulking Sirius on stage, to a couple bouncing merrily away on the dance floor, obviously under the influence. Remus thankfully didn’t see Severus’ proud smile because his eyes had wandered back to the table he must have came from. A young woman sat there by herself.
“Yeah.”
After making quick goodbyes the four went back to Remus and Peter’s flat. Three of the quartet agreed firmly that alcohol would be an essential part of the night’s proceedings. At least the new lads and Reg were agreeing about something; it was an positive sign. They stopped off at the off-licence around the corner.
Severus remembered the way Remus’ friends had been dancing around. He didn’t go in for drugs. He wasn’t against them ideologically of course; people had as much right to sell them as fags or beer. It’s just that he couldn’t understand why people would willingly do it. If they were stupid enough to buy and use that crap then so be it. He couldn’t exactly blame distilleries and breweries for Tobias being a twat, could he?
Severus didn’t drink. He’d seen far too much of the Jekyll and Hyde effect to even think of giving away that much control. So, he didn’t buy any alcohol to see him through the long night at Remus and Peter’s place. When they arrived home he quickly claimed Remus' bottle of iron brew as his own. Remus was slightly miffed, saying that the pop van didn’t come again until Wednesday, until he remembered he had at least seven pints worth of diesel to himself for the night which more than made up for the loss.
“What’s that?” Severus realised what he said was stupid as soon as the words left his mouth. Clearly it was a typewriter, clearly there was a pile of paper beside it, and clearly there was an even bigger pile of paper scrunched up in the waste paper bin beside the typewriter. Clearly there was a nightmarish ashtray on the table beside it overflowing slightly. Severus was forced to look away as he was overcome with an urge to empty it into the bin …and then empty the bin.
“A fish tank.” Remus replied flatly.
Severus sneered; Remus could probably win awards for annoying people. “So, you a writer then?” Remus looked a bit surprised.
“Yeah. Thought you were going to ask if I was a journalist.”
“They just discuss things rather than doing them. As if I’d let a bloody journalist into my band.”
“Our band, Spider, our band” Reg fluttered his eyelashes making Pettigrew and Remus laugh. Twat.
“I’ve written a couple of songs if you want to see them,” Remus admitted. The amused smile from earlier in the evening graced Severus' lips once more. So the cheeky bastard actually thought he could write songs.
“No.” He thought it best not to thoroughly offend his possible new band mates so that’s all he said on the subject. Severus hadn’t seen the songs but well, they couldn’t possibly be as good as his own.
“I reckon we should have stayed at the pub y’know, I fancy listening to some music.” Reg seemed a little distracted.
“You feeling alright Reg?” Peter said as he tossed a bottle of brown ale his way.
“Of course he’s alright, he’s just off his tits. Don’t ask.” Severus shook his head disapprovingly in reply to Remus' confused frown. “And you can listen to some music Reg.” He turned to Remus expectantly.
Seeing the instrument as Remus picked it up Severus decided that, yes, Remus could definitely win awards at annoying people.
“A violin?”
The word rolled off his tongue slowly and deliberately, every long, rounded syllable dripping with condescension. Both he and Reg looked at Remus as though he’d sprouted another head, with contrasting orange hair. Remus smiled smugly to himself as he put down the pint-glass of vivid purple rocket fuel, shrugged and began to play. A little Vivaldi to start followed by an impromptu rendition of Peggy Sue.
Peter applauded with enough enthusiasm to make him hiccup. The old adage was certainly true: men are from Mars, women are from Venus and drummers - drummers are from fucking Pluto.
Severus had claimed a seat on the far end of the sofa. It would be his from now on if the audition went well, although a bloody violin wasn’t a particularly good start. His expression was neutral--as neutral as his face could ever be--as he sat staring at Remus. His iron brew bottle hung suspended in mid-air en route to his mouth as the man’s fingers danced over the strings. Severus was too engrossed with morbid curiosity watching Remus to notice the way Reg, who sat on the floor with Peter rather than using the furniture, was tapping his feet. At the same time he had the look of someone stuck on a particularly difficult crossword puzzle.
As Remus finished they distinctly heard a neighbour from downstairs banging on the ceiling in accompaniment.
The neglected other end of the sofa made a welcoming sigh of approval as Remus sat down. Severus noticed that Severus and Reg still hadn’t altered their expressions.
“Well pissed that one.” Remus said nodding towards Reg who was still tapping his feet to the non-existent music, “I can sing too,” he said by way of appeasement, “tell them Peter, aren’t I a wonderful singer?” he offered a sloppy smile “And I’ve got a van.”
Well, if anything were going to get him in the band it would be the van and not his ability - talented as he might be - on the violin. Remus huffed at the lack of reply and downed the last of his pint.
“So that’s why Peter calls you Spider?” Remus pointed seeing the angry looking tattoo on Severus forearm.
“No, he calls me Spider because he’s a twat.” Remus poked at his arm.
“What? Oh aye, voice of an angel” and simultaneously all three of them gave Peter another ‘are you fucking serious’ look. He raised his glass, “Cheers”.
Severus was concluding that they had left the audition far too late in the evening. At which Remus burst into song, why the hell he’d chosen another Buddy Holly song was beyond Severus rational mind …silently he praised his lateral-thinking subconscious, it probably had something to do with crashing and burning.
“All of my love - all of my kissin’,” chunk…sputter…sputter… “You don’t know what you’ve been a-missin’…”
He was certainly loud enough. He wasn’t the best singer in the world but that was the whole point wasn’t it? There was something about him though. He was loud and insolent and angry and… just fucking perfect actually. More precisely, perfectly imperfect. Remus was a tall bloke, but very thin and weedy looking, it was difficult for Severus to imagine how such a big noise could ever come from anything so small.
“Stop!” Severus nudged him in the leg with his foot for effect, “You’re in”
“…It really is a nice van.” Remus hiccupped.
“But - you’re playing bass as well… you already play violin and you’re tall enough…” Severus finally took a swig from the bottle. Remus was watching him, probably hoping he’d finish his sentence. “So, we’re a band then?”
This was supposed to explain everything but Severus got the distinct impression it hadn’t worked. The drunken confusion that spread across Remus features tipped him off.
“It’s got four strings,” he explained slowly as though to a child, “it can’t be that different can it? Plus you’re the only one whose arms are long enough for bass.”
“Why can’t we just find a bassist? Reg asked; his feet were still bloody moving. Severus looked at Reg like he’d just pissed on his shoes.
“Five people in a band?” Was Reg completely insane? According to Severus there were three reasons why this was bad. One - That’s an odd number! There would always be a winning vote and this might mean Severus being disagreed with, or even worse, overruled. Two - the only reason he wanted Reg on rhythm guitar in the first place was to avoid this entire messy ‘odd number’ business. In Severus’ opinion this was the sole purpose of the rhythm guitarist. Third, and most importantly of all - FIVE IS AN ODD NUMBER! It was against all rational and logical thought. Odd numbers would clearly mean the end of all life on Earth - as we know it.
Part 2