A Toast To Old Friends

Angus had gone into Diagon Alley to stop at Sparks for Brian and Khaat. He enjoyed getting out of the house a bit. He loved his work, but every once in awhile, he liked slipping away for a pint and a breath of air without having to take care of the house or of babies or anything else.

And every so often, he wondered where all that time he had had to fish had gone? When he was simply working the boat, he didn't work nearly as hard. Of course, he didn't make nearly as much either, but he always had time to fish if that was what he wanted to do. Or to have a delcious Tuscan dinner and watch the sun set with wonderful glass of limoncello. He missed life in Tuscany.

But having a pint would have to do for now. It wasn't Italian. And it wasn't Tuscan. Not in the same way. It was decidely English. He liked English ale, but it wasn't a really good Italian wine either. It was just different.

He took his pint and went to a table and sat there and sighed a deep sigh of relief. He took off his black leather coat and draped it on the back of his chair. He saw that someone had left today's copy of the Daily Prophet on the next table when they left. They'd left it beside their empty glass. He picked up the paper and started to read it. They got the Prophet at home, but he never seemed to have time to read it.

“So you actually went to work like that?” The barkeep asked for what felt like the hundredth time as he leered over the wine bottle at the weary redhead who was smoking leisurely before him. She raised an eyebrow and brought her lips together in an ‘o’ before blowing smoke into his face. He coughed and spluttered and turned around, muttering something about going into the back. He disappeared through a door and Lauren smiled. She reached over the bar and picked up the bottle of wine he’d been using to fill her glass. She poured as much as possible into her glass and put it back down after taking in some more nicotine.

She grinned to herself and picked up the newspaper that was lying on the bar. She placed her cigarette in the ash tray for a moment and began to flick through, taking in the headlines and only reading those that really mattered. Then, of course, she found the job section and the elderly barman, Tom, sidled over. He peered over and smiled at the young redhead. He patted her on the head and she looked up at him curiously. Tom put his glass down and gestured for her to sit back. She did so and he flicked the pages until he came to the page he wanted. He smoothed it down and pointed a yellowing nail to an add reading: SATAN’S: AVAILIABLE JOBS. Lauren scanned what they had on offer and, to her delight, she realised they had a hell of a lot. The manager seemed to be someone called Vito Dee Symons – whoever he was. Lauren put the address and the name to memory and smiled in thanks at Tom. He returned the smile and sidled away but not before opening her, another bottle of wine.

There was her chance to trade up. Lauren wanted to take it too, even if she did only end up as a maid or, heaven forbid, a dancer. It was in Knockturn Alley, something she knew her father would surely complain about, but it couldn’t have been much worse than the back alleys that surrounded Crooner. Lauren picked up her cigarette and placed it back in between her lips as she thought about it. She’d go at some point in the week, she decided, perhaps on her night off. Crooner had screwed her over for the last time. She was out of money, having spent it all on booze and the packet of cigarettes that she was going through now, and needed some cash fast. She wasn’t about to whore herself around but if she had to dance clad in nothing but lacy lingerie for some galleons then bloody hell she’d do it. Besides, who was to know? The uniform did say: mask.

Outfit.

Angus finished his pint and the paper and got up and took his glass to the bar. "Another, Angus?" Tom asked.

"Please?" Angus asked, plunking a couple of coins on the age old bar. Tom took the pint glass and refilled it from a tap and handed the glass back to him.

"Keep the coins, Mate," Tom smiled. "You got me that tin of really good tea for my wife for her birthday. Now she can impress all her friends with it. Thank you, my friend."

"I was glad to do it," Angus smiled, pocketting his coins again. Robert's Christmas spice tea had been a special request that Tom had made for Tom's wife as a birthday gift in December. And now his wife was apparently impressing her friends by saying that the Minister had created the tea. Oh well, if it gave her a little pleasure, what the hell?

As he looked over and saw the woman at the bar, it struck him. An old friend. One he hadn't seen in longer than he could remember.

"Lauren?" He frowned. "Lauren Michaels? Can that really be you? Good Lord! How long as it been?"

It was all becoming rather exciting for Lauren now. Her dad would go spare but she was quite happy with letting him think she was still at Crooner. She would be too if she didn’t get the job. For some reason though, Lauren felt good about her prospects. She’d been working at Crooner long enough and she had references a mile long. He couldn’t not hire her. Then again, he probably wouldn’t knowing her luck and she’d be right back where she started. She’d probably have more luck trying to intern with Professor Wilson back at school. Lauren groaned and muffled the sound with a long swig of wine and a puff of her cigarette. She couldn’t handle all this while more or less off of her head. She felt sober in her head but she knew her body wouldn’t quite agree with her. It was a shame too.

Still, there was no point in dwelling on the downsides of drinking. Lauren had all but drained her glass and eagerly began to fill it up as she lit yet another cigarette. She heard an exchange beside her and put the bottle down when she heard her name. She twisted her head around and looked up to find herself face to face with an old friend. Angus. It had most definitely been a long time. Lauren blinked in surprise and took her cigarette from her mouth. She waved a little in greeting and managed a less than eloquent,

"Hey."

"Be kind to the ladies, Lad," Tom laughed at Angus.

"Meh," Angus waved Tom away in mock annoyance, and Tom left for the back room to get another keg of ale, laughing at Angus as he went.

"So tell me. Where have you been? What have you been up to? I sort of lost track of my friends while I was gone. I spent a few years in Italy, and I just recently had a friend talk me into moving back. My family is still in Italy, but I really am enjoying living here right now. Even though you silly Brits still like snow. You lot really are a bit whacked, you know."

As Angus remembered, one of their last discussions happened in some really crappy bitterly cold winter weather some years ago. At least it wasn't that bad now. The worst of the winter did seem to be over. Angus seemed to remember swearing to Lauren that he would never ever spend another winter in England as long as he lived. He was also starting to remember some vague bit about promising her dinner if he ever set foot on English soil again while there was snow on the ground. If he were lucky, that little bit would just escape her slightly marinated brain. And just when did she like wine that well anyway? That did appear to be new for her.