Rehersal
Title: Rehersal
Rating: PG
Genre: Romance/humor
Summery: Clare Rivers and Anthony Goldstein have a chat at a fastfood joint.
Fandom: Harry Potter
Disclaimer: Characters © Rowling.
Make no mistake about it-Clare Rivers HATES Anthony Goldstein. The man who grins too much, the man who jokes to much, the man who talks too much and above all the man who flirts too much. And yet, for all her hatred for the best friend of her best friend’s fiancée here the two are sitting together in a crowded muggle restaurant (‘McDonald’s’ proclaimed the words under twin yellow arches) eating a rather greasy meal together. She observes him thoughtfully-too thoughtfully than he deserves a voice in the back of her mind says-from behind her burger, clutched between her fingers. Goldstein had offered to pay and order for her, saying that the former Slytherin was far too skinny and how could someone so brittle be expected to catch the bouquet? She nearly slapped him for that comment.
“What’s that?” He says with a sly grin, pointing over to something out of her line of vision. Before it registers to Clare that that is indeed the oldest trick in the proverbial book, she looks away from him and towards the direction that he indicates. From the corner of her vision she sees the red of his sleeves snake in and suddenly grab several of the greasy chips from their bright red and yellow container. Whipping her head around, the woman glares at him with all the iciness she can possibly muster for her hatred of this boy and the entire male sex (Professor Damocles excluded, of course). Gritting her horse teeth at him she hisses, “Why buy me something if you’re just going to eat it anyway?”
Anthony grins through a mouthful of the stolen treats, and for a moment she mentally compares him a stupidly grinning scarecrow with its yellow straw stuffing falling out from her beating it so much. The man laces his hands together behind his head and leans back in the chair (Clare hopes against hopes that he will fall backwards, smash his skull open upon the hard floors and she will soon be able to escape), grinning like always he replies, “That’s how you’ll get the bouquet. I’m giving you tips, Rivers. You really ought to thank me.”
Her eyes narrow into slits, and she takes a large, angry bite from her burger, but it doesn’t matter because the damage of his words has been done as the evidence is shown by the faint color flowing into her cheeks. Clare feels her face begin to warm and the fact that she knows leads to that fact that he also might know leads to her face burning all the brighter. Suddenly the greasy burger with its ketchup leaking out the sides and pickles sliding out one by one seems much more interesting than it did a moment ago and for a moment she can’t think of anything to say. What can she say? It’s not at as if Goldstein said anything directly, but it just seems as if it was implied but to rage at a person for having maybe at best implied something seems silly even for Clare. Then again, the woman had gotten angry at boys for worse back in her days at Hogwarts.
“Why would I want to catch a bouquet?” She snaps at last after struggling with her cheeks that are telling a different story from her icy voice.
He offers her one of those much hated lopsided grins and shrugs, straightening he ceases to lean back and thus crushes Clare’s hopes of his smashed head on the floor. He takes up his own burger and thoughtfully eats it for several minutes, and Clare is stunned. Where are the replies she had grown so used to back from their days as students? The silence between them grows and so does the woman’s annoyance with him. How dare he not say anything! This can only mean that he’s up to no good and is plotting something truly sinister to one of the many young females in the restaurant, her eyes narrow once again. Oh how devious of you Goldstein to try to go after one of the school aged girls that are here with their friends. But fear not young women of MacDonald’s, she won’t let this enemy to women set his wicked sights onto you; Clare would sooner smack him then have to actually sit and watch him flirt.
“Are you listening?” She demands, setting down her burger and glaring at him from over the top of her pop now.
“Of course I am, Rivers. I was just trying to think of a response. And I think I have one. I suppose you’ll want to go on to marry some nice chap that cowers in fear of you and that you’ll be able to be in total control of lest he, Merlin forbid, decide to have a mind of his own.” And he grins, and she wants to smack him quite suddenly. Clare falls silent, and Anthony raises an eyebrow at her, the grin widening all the more on his face because he knows he knows for a moment he has stumped her.
“Why...” She begins slowly, the hate in her voice slipping in and lacing with her words quite clearly, “Why would I want that?” She’s positively trembling with anger and if this wasn’t Anthony, if it was so other male instead, he would be dead on the spot from the hate laden glare that’s being offered to him.
He fixes her with a look she is quite unable to recognize and that makes her feel a bit uncomfortable suddenly, he’s still grinning but it’s a different sort of grin now. Clare isn’t entirely sure what’s just happened, but she feels she is at a loss for words, something that irritates her all the more, especially since it is all caused by particular man.
“Well,” he says, still giving her that damned look and grinning in that odd manner, “I must say I’m rather hoping you’ll catch the bouquet.” And with that said he suddenly rises from his seat and nods his head to her, “I’ll see you at the rehearsal next week, Clare.”
And suddenly she is alone without knowing exactly what just happened and why she suddenly feels so infuriated and shy at the same time.
Rating: PG
Genre: Romance/humor
Summery: Clare Rivers and Anthony Goldstein have a chat at a fastfood joint.
Fandom: Harry Potter
Disclaimer: Characters © Rowling.
Make no mistake about it-Clare Rivers HATES Anthony Goldstein. The man who grins too much, the man who jokes to much, the man who talks too much and above all the man who flirts too much. And yet, for all her hatred for the best friend of her best friend’s fiancée here the two are sitting together in a crowded muggle restaurant (‘McDonald’s’ proclaimed the words under twin yellow arches) eating a rather greasy meal together. She observes him thoughtfully-too thoughtfully than he deserves a voice in the back of her mind says-from behind her burger, clutched between her fingers. Goldstein had offered to pay and order for her, saying that the former Slytherin was far too skinny and how could someone so brittle be expected to catch the bouquet? She nearly slapped him for that comment.
“What’s that?” He says with a sly grin, pointing over to something out of her line of vision. Before it registers to Clare that that is indeed the oldest trick in the proverbial book, she looks away from him and towards the direction that he indicates. From the corner of her vision she sees the red of his sleeves snake in and suddenly grab several of the greasy chips from their bright red and yellow container. Whipping her head around, the woman glares at him with all the iciness she can possibly muster for her hatred of this boy and the entire male sex (Professor Damocles excluded, of course). Gritting her horse teeth at him she hisses, “Why buy me something if you’re just going to eat it anyway?”
Anthony grins through a mouthful of the stolen treats, and for a moment she mentally compares him a stupidly grinning scarecrow with its yellow straw stuffing falling out from her beating it so much. The man laces his hands together behind his head and leans back in the chair (Clare hopes against hopes that he will fall backwards, smash his skull open upon the hard floors and she will soon be able to escape), grinning like always he replies, “That’s how you’ll get the bouquet. I’m giving you tips, Rivers. You really ought to thank me.”
Her eyes narrow into slits, and she takes a large, angry bite from her burger, but it doesn’t matter because the damage of his words has been done as the evidence is shown by the faint color flowing into her cheeks. Clare feels her face begin to warm and the fact that she knows leads to that fact that he also might know leads to her face burning all the brighter. Suddenly the greasy burger with its ketchup leaking out the sides and pickles sliding out one by one seems much more interesting than it did a moment ago and for a moment she can’t think of anything to say. What can she say? It’s not at as if Goldstein said anything directly, but it just seems as if it was implied but to rage at a person for having maybe at best implied something seems silly even for Clare. Then again, the woman had gotten angry at boys for worse back in her days at Hogwarts.
“Why would I want to catch a bouquet?” She snaps at last after struggling with her cheeks that are telling a different story from her icy voice.
He offers her one of those much hated lopsided grins and shrugs, straightening he ceases to lean back and thus crushes Clare’s hopes of his smashed head on the floor. He takes up his own burger and thoughtfully eats it for several minutes, and Clare is stunned. Where are the replies she had grown so used to back from their days as students? The silence between them grows and so does the woman’s annoyance with him. How dare he not say anything! This can only mean that he’s up to no good and is plotting something truly sinister to one of the many young females in the restaurant, her eyes narrow once again. Oh how devious of you Goldstein to try to go after one of the school aged girls that are here with their friends. But fear not young women of MacDonald’s, she won’t let this enemy to women set his wicked sights onto you; Clare would sooner smack him then have to actually sit and watch him flirt.
“Are you listening?” She demands, setting down her burger and glaring at him from over the top of her pop now.
“Of course I am, Rivers. I was just trying to think of a response. And I think I have one. I suppose you’ll want to go on to marry some nice chap that cowers in fear of you and that you’ll be able to be in total control of lest he, Merlin forbid, decide to have a mind of his own.” And he grins, and she wants to smack him quite suddenly. Clare falls silent, and Anthony raises an eyebrow at her, the grin widening all the more on his face because he knows he knows for a moment he has stumped her.
“Why...” She begins slowly, the hate in her voice slipping in and lacing with her words quite clearly, “Why would I want that?” She’s positively trembling with anger and if this wasn’t Anthony, if it was so other male instead, he would be dead on the spot from the hate laden glare that’s being offered to him.
He fixes her with a look she is quite unable to recognize and that makes her feel a bit uncomfortable suddenly, he’s still grinning but it’s a different sort of grin now. Clare isn’t entirely sure what’s just happened, but she feels she is at a loss for words, something that irritates her all the more, especially since it is all caused by particular man.
“Well,” he says, still giving her that damned look and grinning in that odd manner, “I must say I’m rather hoping you’ll catch the bouquet.” And with that said he suddenly rises from his seat and nods his head to her, “I’ll see you at the rehearsal next week, Clare.”
And suddenly she is alone without knowing exactly what just happened and why she suddenly feels so infuriated and shy at the same time.