Post by Alice Prewett on Sept 30, 2011 18:08:39 GMT -5
she said forlornly, staring into the half-full bottle, having forgone glasses a few drinks ago. He told her (again) that his name was Ben, not Bob, but she was too busy tilting her bottle this way and that to catch the light to hear him. "They had always seemed so in love. I just can't believe it was all an act. I mean. My parents were, like, the couple I looked up to. I wanted to have a marriage like theirs. Share a love like theirs with my future husband. I mean, what if there's just no such thing as love? Oh Merlin's bloody pants, what if this is genetic? What if I like...can't love? Like my parents? I mean, I've had a lot of boyfriends, and I've never been in love with any of them. And Fabian was in love, but that blew up in his face like a bloody balloon. Just...POP. And it was horrible. Have you ever been in love, Bob?"[/color] she asked suddenly, looking up at him. He looked exasperated, but nodded anyway and murmured an "I'm engaged". As he'd guessed, she didn't let him say much more. "Oh, well that's wonderful! Congratulations! I'm sure she's lovely. You better make each other real happy, though, because apparently it's now utterly normal for couples who are in love to cheat. Or, well, couples who pretend to be in love. Are you pretending to be in love?"[/color] He shook his head slowly and she hiccuped. "Wish you were my parents. You know, this is really going to mess Beth up. What if she's scarred for life? What if she never gets married? What then? How could they not think about her? How could they be so...so...stupid and selfish and juvenile? Huh, Bob? How, Bob?"[/color] she demanded. He blinked at her and then brought her another drink because she'd drunk the last of her last firewhiskey bottle. "Yeah thanks,"[/color] she mumbled. I thought bartenders were supposed to be good at this whole comforting-drunk-girls thing, she grumbled inwardly. She was too drunk to care that she was making him uncomfortable, and was about to launch into yet another rant when the annoying bell that told them there was a new customer sounded and she automatically turned towards the door. She never expected to actually recognise the new patron and her eyes immediately widened, torn between hiding her face so that he wouldn't recognise her and throwing her arms around him and inviting him for a drink. Hiding would require self-control, and since she was so smashed, she severely lacked it, so instead of trying to be subtle, she was doing the exact opposite and enthusiastically waving him over.
For children, Christmas was a sacred day. A holy day where everyone was supposed to swallow their bitterness and sadness and smile and be cheery and merry and optimistic; even the people who perpetually saw the glass as half empty had to at least be a little happy during Christmas. Because it was Christmas and everything was brilliant on that day. It was the day to believe in miracles, in Santa Clause and reindeers. It was about warm butterbeer by the fire and Christmas lights and waking up early in the morning to rush down the stairs and try to rip open into your presents, because your parents forbade you from doing it the night before and you just know your mother finally bought you that doll you'd been aching for, or your father bought you that bike he'd promised to get you months ago. And then, when you got older, it was still about the presents and the butterbeer, but now there was the excitement of mistletoe and sneaking a drink or two at a party. Whatever you were doing, Christmas was for all ages. In a word? Christmas was magical. In a lot of ways, it was more magical than waving your wand and transforming a toad into a goblet, or forming sparks. Frankly, it was Alice's favourite holidays, and not just because they got a vacation. Of course, Halloween came as a very close second, mostly because you got to dress up (she was Princess Leia last Halloween, of course. Carrie Fisher had nothing on her, thanks) and there was that absolutely mouth-watering feast at Hogwarts every year to look forward to. But Christmas was the time that she got to spend with her family, and Merlin knows how much she loved her family, as small as they were - and by small she was talking about her immediate family here, of course, since she had more cousins and second cousins and third cousins and so on than she can count on all her fingers and toes (she was pretty sure she hadn't met half the people who shared her last name). Unlike Lucy, who had dozens of siblings (okay, she was exaggerating a little. It was just, like, one dozen or something), Alice only had the one sister (who she adored to pieces), and then her parents. But it was nice, having a small family. You were all so much closer. And plus, she had her cousins, Fabian and Gideon, who were almost brothers. Sort of. Well, more Fabian, really, since he was closer to her age and they'd shared a common room for six years, but she thought Gideon was positively adorable. They were definitely more like first rather than second cousins, at the very least. Anyway, she digressed. Christmas was her favourite holiday, and Christmas eve was just as good as the real thing. It was the lead-up, really, the growing anticipation for the day, the night you spent at a party with your friends and then snuck a peek at the presents under the tree before going up to bed, but hardly being able to sleep because you were just so excited. Nothing could ruin Christmas for Alice.
Well, except for news of her parents getting a divorce.
Why they had decided that Christmas eve was an appropriate time to let her know that their marriage was a sham, that they'd never actually loved each other (and yet had still managed to reproduce. Twice) and that they were seeing other people (Alice knew that part, at least about her dad, because, oh yeah, she'd seen him snogging someone who wasn't her mother through a restaurant window that very morning which, she supposed, was what had triggered this sweetheart-we-have-something-to-tell-you-but-remember-we-love-you-and-your-sister-very-much conversation) and that they'd been talking about getting a divorce for years now (years! The amount of time was mind-boggling), but they'd been waiting until she and Beth were old enough to handle it (Alice wanted to deny that vehemently, there was no way Beth was mature enough to handle this and it would probably scar her for life, but she was too busy raging over the fact that the past seventeen years of her life had been a lie - slight exaggeration, but come on! - and couldn't bring herself to point that out yet) and, oh yeah, Merry Christmas honey! Some Christmas present, that was. They were talking a lot more after the initial "we're really sorry to have to tell you this and know that your father and I love you very much, but it's time we finally said this: Alice, your father and I are getting a divorce". They'd done a lot more talking, but their words had become nothing more than an annoying buzz while she tried to absorb the fact that her parents were getting a divorce. It just seemed so...sudden and unexpected. For her, at least, because, on the outside, her parents had seemed like the perfect couple. Looking back, Alice still wouldn't have been able to see any signs. They were loving, they kissed in front of their kids to make them uncomfortable, they remembered each others birthdays, Mr. Prewett took out Mrs. Prewett for all their anniversaries. They were practically the definition of a perfect married couple! And now they were getting a divorce? It all seemed like one big joke and Alice was almost tempted to look at a calendar and make sure she hadn't slept through three and a half months and woken up on the first of April. Not that her parents were aware of the muggle tradition April fool's day anyway and thus wouldn't know to pull a prank. And a glance outside the window showed that, no, it wasn't April, because it never snowed in April. And suddenly she felt like crying, because her parents were getting a divorce and that meant separate houses and separate lives and a possible step mother and father and oh God what about Beth? How could they have torn the family apart like that?! And, just like that, Alice wasn't upset anymore - oh no. She was spitting mad again. She couldn't even stand to look at her parents anymore. So she stormed out, stomping all the way to the bedroom and slamming the door behind her. She'd (maybe) feel guilty about it later, for being so impolite to her parents, but at the moment she just needed to get away. Away from their "I'm sorry you had to find out this way"s, their "we still love you and your sister very much"s and "it all be okay"s. Because it wasn't going to be okay. Not anytime soon. Not only had they both been cheating on each other - and the fact that they knew it was just absolutely despicable - but now they were getting a divorce! Alice swallowed the sudden bile that rose in her throat and tore open her wardrobe. In record time, she was dressed in her trusty little black dress (every girl should own one for days when they had no idea where they were going, but knew they couldn't go there in jeans) and then she was out the door before her parents could stop her; she noticed they didn't make any attempt to, however. Maybe they were trying to give her time to calm down or something. Calming down wasn't the first thing on her mind, however.
Since Alice hadn't passed her apparition test yet, she had to walk. She had kind of hoped it would help clear her thoughts or something, because that was what happened in books; the heroine went for a walk for half an hour, came back and suddenly everything made sense again and the world was slowly spinning in the right direction. But did that happen with Alice? Oh no. Of course it didn't. Because this was real life and in real life all you got out of walking around aimlessly for half an hour was a chill and really, really sore feet. Granted, she probably should have a worn a thicker coat and tights with her dress, and it might have been a good idea to forgo the high-heels, but she hadn't exactly been thinking clearly when she'd left the house. It was a wonder she was even decent. But it was hard to be grateful for that little fact because her feet were starting to scream and she was shivering a little and, even though it was Christmas eve so it wasn't like someone would be horrible enough to attack her, it was getting late and the only thing that kept her from being too afraid (some Gryffindor she was, no?) was the fact that there were Christmas lights blinking at her everywhere she looked. The lights were starting to aggravate her, because she was too miserable to appreciate them and that was even more frustrating. Grumbling under her breath, she stepping into the first building she saw and realised after she'd stepped over the threshold that it was a pub. She wasn't exactly a frequent bar-goer seeing as she didn't enjoy drinking alcohol or getting drunk, but suddenly this seemed like the perfect place to be. And it was obviously a wizarding one, which meant she could get away with drinking firewhiskey since, by wizarding standards, she was of age. Ah, the perks of being a witch. Her lips twitched an infinitesimal amount in what could have been a smile, but with the memory of the sit-down with her parents still prevalent in her mind, it was difficult to get her mouth to curve upwards and she easily gave up. Somewhere deep down beneath all the bitterness, Alice was a tad grateful that her parents had dropped the bomb on her on Christmas eve and not Christmas day, because it wasn't as strange to be in a bar on Christmas eve as it was on Christmas day. Then again, she had to re-think that: it was always at least somewhat sad to be in a bar alone, no matter what time of the year it was. It was during Christmas when it became obvious that the only reason you were there was to drink away your woes. She'd bet half her allowance that most of the patrons tonight were here because they were lonely and had no one to spend the holidays with. Alice made champion effort at pretending that wasn't part of the reason why she was here, too. But that didn't matter because she was about to get very, very drunk ad that would make her feel much better. Or, at least, forget.
Unfortunately, Alice wasn't a good drunk. Not at all. Because, see, when sober, Alice was the type who kept everything that really bothered her bottled up inside. But mix in a lot (or a little, she was a bit of a light-weight) of alcohol and it was like the flood gates had been rammed open and there was no controlling her tongue. Oh, she didn't slur (much), she was actually surprisingly coherent most of the time. It was just that she tended to completely lose her filter. Unfortunately, the victim of tonight was the bartender, who'd made the mistake of flirting with her and now he couldn't seem to shake her off, since he felt sorry for the girl with the sad eyes who winced painfully every time she took a sip of her drink and had taken off her shoes as soon as she sat, claiming they were torturous death traps for every woman. She sure talking a lot, though, which made it a bit harder for him to feel so sorry for her. If she noticed his discomfort, though (she didn't), Alice didn't let on. Instead, she paused in her rambling for a few moments to take a few more large gulps of alcohol, flinching again when they burned down her throat, wondering how people could stand to do this for fun on a regular behaviour (and wondering why she was still downing the drink like it was her job when she clearly disliked it). "I just don't get it, Bob,"
"Fraaaaank! What are you doing here?! Did you come to get drunk, too? I wasn't s'posed to see you until like. The. Uh. Star wars day!"[/color] She was definitely too far gone to remember what date they were supposed to meet. "Day off, huh? Frank, this is Bob-"[/color] Exasperated, "Ben, actually." "Bob is my bartender. A bartender. I've been drinking. Frank is an auror! Is it your day off? Of course it is. It's Christmas eve! Can't work on Christmas eve. Because Christmas eve is special. And so is Christmas. But it's not special tonight. Not in a good way, anyway. Love sucks, don't it? I don't think I want to love anyone. Like, ever. You know how it is, right?"[/color] She swallowed some more alcohol, and then realised she should offer him one. But she couldn't give him hers because it had all her saliva all over it and stuff and that wasn't cool. "Hey Frank, dyawant a drink? Bob! Get Frank a drink, please. And me, one, too."[/color] She took a large gulp of her firewhiskey and then hiccuped - at least she didn't burp. "I am so drunk,"[/color] she told him, her voice deceptively perky as she swung her bare feet back and forth. She was just really glad she hadn't started blubbering. Then Bob really might kick her out, and then she really might cry and that would be...bad.
frank longbottom
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