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lostmykeysie · 2 years

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chimaera & the wolf: snippet from the sirius oneshot

Something wakes him. It’s not a soft, gradual rise into wakefulness like a gentle drag to shore; one moment he’s asleep, and the next he’s wide awake. It’s unsettling.

The first few seconds of consciousness seize him by the throat and drag him forcefully back to when he was a boy, the shadows of his Camden bedroom twisting with the shadows of his memory. Sirius stares up at the ceiling with unseeing eyes, heart thumping in his chest as he fights to keep his breathing steady, terror slipping up the back of his neck.

His fear tastes like the blood of a bitten tongue, like things that go bump in the night – in the darkest dead of night because only cowards are scared of the dark and there are no cowards in Grimmauld Place. There is no light in Grimmauld Place.

Effy had once told him that experiencing fear isn’t cowardice, facing it is strength. And what is strength if not the knowledge that no matter what you did – six years old and tearing your sleeve on a nail in the floor of the attic you were told to stay out of; eight years old and holding a muggle boy’s hand as you run through the park; eleven years old and too brave, too courageous, too different to them – it would always be wrong, and wrongness that is yours can never be forgiven. What is strength if not knowing that the right thing will always be deemed wrong, and doing it anyway?

But as he lies there, disoriented by the sudden and inexplicable flood of adrenaline and the ice cold grip of panic in his chest, Sirius doesn’t feel strength.

It’s hard to remember Effy’s words when you can’t forget the fact that she’s dead.

#chimaera & the wolf #sirius black #setting the scene guys this oneshot is nothing but ANGST #i thought i'd give you a snippet because i was planning to post it at the weekend and i didn't get a chance #this moving house experience has been hell on earth i can't even begin to describe #so have a lil snippet baby #i will finish and post this weekend i promise x #it's gonna be way longer than i thought #over 5k easily #under 10k though or i'll jump #this boy has so much ANGUISH #i'm gonna give you another perspective from the fight #i want to make you CONFLICTED #anyway #poor sirius #i have only just clocked i spell effy with a y #skins supremacy #i was literally talking about effy stonem with catie today #what are the chances

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allonsysilvertongue · 6 years

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The Pub Below The Apartment

The Ballad of A Drunk & His Lady: The Pub Below The Apartment

Here - have something that’s been sitting in my Dropbox folder for such a long time i forgot it existed until i went digging in my Hayffie folder.

The place was hardly quiet but at four in the afternoon, Haymitch wouldn’t say that it was noisy because as night descended and the crowd expanded, the place could certainly get rowdier. As it were that particular afternoon, the pub was rather peaceful with only a few patrons; most of whom were retirees watching a rerun of the yesterday night’s baseball game and whose faces were familiar to Haymitch.

Well, except for one.

A woman sat alone at one of the booth, furthest away from the mounted television, very much oblivious to her surroundings as she stared intently at whatever had captured her attention on the laptop screen in front of her. Occasionally, her fingers would fly across the keyboard. The clicking of her keys punctuating the commentary from the game.

Haymitch nudged Johanna. The young woman clicked her tongue, making her displeasure known.

“What?” she snapped.

“Go find out what she wants,” Haymitch nodded at the woman by the booth. “She dresses like she’s from uptown.”

“Ten dollars says she’s gonna ask for Rosé or some shit like that. Looks fancy,” Johanna commented.

“Only one way to find out,” Haymitch scoffed.

Smirking, Johanna approached the woman. “You going to order anything or what?”

She glanced up, a little startled. "Oh! Just a glass of water, please. Thank you."

With a huff, Johanna stomped away, pulling a ten dollar bill from her pocket. She slapped it over the counter for Haymitch.

"Just a glass of water, please. Thank you," she mimicked, making sure to pitch her voice a tone higher.

Haymitch snickered but filled the glass for Johanna to take it to the customer. She placed it, not so gently on the table in front of her.

“Thank you,” the woman offered a distracted smile.

Haymitch stood behind the counter, watching the woman. Once in a while, his gaze would trail to the wall clock but most of the time, his attention was on her. Discreetly, of course. She was a sight; beautiful and elegant, and each time she bit on her bottom lip or the top of her pen, Haymitch had to take a deep breath.

It became apparently clear that he or the pub wasn’t worth the time of day because not once did she even look his way or raised her head to take in her surroundings. How anyone could remain completely focus on their work and oblivious to everything around her was beyond Haymitch’s guess.

It annoyed him, though. This was his establishment and he was certain that she had not even seen him on her way in although that wasn’t what he told himself. A glass of water wouldn’t cut it.

He should rectify that. Grabbing the old laminated menu, he crossed the room towards her table. It was only when his shadow fell over her laptop did he get her attention.

A pair of striking blue eyes locked with his and for a moment, he forgot the reason he was here in the first place. She blinked slowly and her eyelashes – too long to be natural – fluttered gently.

"Lady," he muttered gruffly, clearing his throat uncomfortably to break this spell that she had unknowingly cast on him. He tossed the menu in front of her. "You've been here a while – two hours actually – and you ordered nothing 'cept that water. I'm startin' to wonder why you're here at the pub at all. It’s definitely ain’t for that game."

"My apologies!” she said. “I do not drink. What do you have?"

"This is a bar," he pointed out. "Alcohol's a given. So, what can I get you?”

“It’s only six in the afternoon. It is a little too early to be drinking, don’t you think?”

“Not for them,” Haymitch gestured to the group of middle age men sitting closest to the television. “Listen, are you here… to just be on that?"

He pointed to her laptop.

"Why yes, you are quite right,” she flashed him a smile. He stared at the bright painted lips. “To be perfectly honest, I am here for your wifi."

"My … " he snorted. "My fucking wifi?”

He waited for her to correct him but she held his gaze.

“Let me get this straight, you're here for the wifi?"

"Yes," she nodded earnestly. "Your wifi is stronger here that it is up in my apartment."

"You live upstairs?" His brows crinkled at that information because he had not seen her around before.

"Mhm."

Haymitch narrowed his eyes as he began to process her words. "So you've been using my wifi from your apartment?"

Her eyes widened.

"Y- Yes."

"You think I'm running a charity, yeah? Swindle my wifi, free water..."

"I can pay for the water," she added immediately.

"You either order somethin' or you get out, lady."

"How rude," she pursed her lips and pulled the lid of her laptop halfway through as if his rudeness also meant that he was about to pry into whatever work she was doing. "I have to endure your customers walking in and out of this bar night after night. They are loud and thunderous. They disrupt my sleep every night so really, mister, the least you can do is to let me have this booth. I am not disturbing anybody."

"You stay above a pub," he pointed out in exasperation. "Bit crazy to complain 'bout the noise, yeah?"

"I admit this is not the most ideal living location but - "

"I ain't changing my mind. Order something. People will see you sit here with no food and drink, and they're gonna start thinking that they can just walk in here, sit their asses on the booth, chit chat with their friends while waiting for another friend, maybe. Nah, that ain't happening so - "

"Mr. Abernathy," she heaved a breath.

“Haymitch,” he corrected.

"Haymitch," she acquiesced. "Your behaviour is appalling. Do you talk to women this way often? It is rude, I will have you know."

He raised an eyebrow.

"Alright, sweetheart, you're something I'll give you that but you can take your shit," his jabbed his finger at her laptop, "and go to the damn library."

She gasped.

"Now, listen here, Mr. Aber – Haymitch," she corrected herself. "Perhaps you will be more understanding if I just explain myself. I am here merely to do some work. I will not bother you or your patrons, I promise. The crowd will start coming in at eight, I noticed, by which time, I will be gone and be back in my apartment. The nearest coffee shop is five minutes' walk away."

"Here's a suggestion, sweetheart - "

"Effie," she interjected. “If you really need to call me something, I’d prefer it if you use my name.��

"Right. Here's a suggestion – get your own fucking wifi. Call the telecom company. Don't need me to teach you that, yeah?"

"I just moved in," she argued and that would explain the reason he had never seen her around before. "That was three days ago and things are not set up properly. The router's giving me some problem and I have a deadline to follow. Please."

“The what?”

“The router?” she clarified tentatively. “Besides, if you do not want anyone using your wifi, you should have password protected it.”

He frowned but he was not going to let her get the best of him.

“Yeah, see, it's not password protected because wifi's meant for the paying customers. You aren't one of them.”

Johanna had been the one to suggest that having wifi would attract the younger crowd and he hadn't bother to argue much.

“Alright, very well," she inhaled and Haymitch could see the struggle she was going through to remain calm. "If I were to order something, will you let me stay?”

"What I've been sayin' all this time," he scoffed.

She gave him such a bright, mocking smile as she said, “Raspberry Snapple, please.”

He frowned. "Don't think we have that. You look like a Bailey's kinda gal."

“No, please. Like I’ve said, repeatedly - no alcohol. I am trying to work here. Tea, then. Surely you have that? Oh, do you have salad?”

"Not a restaurant," he said over his shoulder.

Haymitch came back with a cup of tea and a full plate of finger food. She gave the greasy plate one look and wrinkled her nose.

It made him laugh quietly to himself.

Surprisingly, she returned for the next three days and when she didn't that one day and the day after, Haymitch knocked on her door at four in the morning, an hour after the pub’s last call.

"You didn't turn up," he said. "Been two days."

She didn't call out the fact that he kept count.

It didn't escape his notice the swell of her breasts under the blue robe or for his imagination to run wild, picturing what she was hiding underneath the robe. He had never seen her this way – her face bare, her hair in a messy bun, her eyes heavy with sleep. She looked… exquisite and homely, something he could easily fantasize himself waking up to every morning.

He shook his head at the thought, taken aback by how fast his mind had gone from one point to the next.

"My router is fixed. My wifi is working," she answered, fighting off a yawn. "Thank you for your hospitality."

"You ever coming back?"

She pierced him with a look.

"Not for your greasy finger food, no," she laughed, her blue eyes sparkled underneath the dim light of the corridor.

"Shame," he shrugged and pushed himself off from where he was leaning against the doorframe. "You made the view better."

As he walked away from her apartment down the corridor, he could feel her staring after him.

#hayffie #haymitch abernathy #effie trinket #the ballad of a drunk and his lady #hayffie au

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