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milliways_bar2005-06-20 12:30 pm
the-woodpecker.livejournal.com) wrote in milliways_bar2005-06-20 12:30 pm
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*It's late in the morning, almost afternoon, when Bernard emerges from the Staff Wing, moving pretty slow.
He walks up to Bar and puts his hands on her, eyes closed in apology. The circles under his eyes are terribly dark, his hair a mess.
She materializes a cup of coffee and a letter.
Bernard reads it and nods, writing a reply.
Tim,
Organize it. Keep me informed. The Order will tell us where to go once Snape knows. Unless we don't hear from them, we'll be working together.
--Bernard
He picks up the coffee and starts to walk back to the flat, when he pauses.
Reluctantly, slowly, Bar produces another letter.
Bernard turns, blinking, and picks it up.
He opens it.
There's a clinking sound, as something falls out to land, glittering, on the Bar's warm, shining surface.
Bernard stands there, staring at the letter blankly, for far too long.
He doesn't notice how his hands begin to shake the parchment so hard, there's no way anyone could read it.
He doesn't notice Bar's stain turning from a warm walnut to a deep, dull mahogany.
He doesn't see how she serves slower and slower, even as the patrons look around in confusion.
Eyes bone-dry, Bernard reaches over to pick up Nymphadora's engagement ring. It's really very beautiful.
The parchment crumples in his hand. His head is buzzing, screaming, and he can't breathe can't see can't speak and quickquickquick before he explodes, he stumbles out the lake door to sink down beside a mound of freshly turned earth, eyes too blind to notice the black rose at its apex.*
He walks up to Bar and puts his hands on her, eyes closed in apology. The circles under his eyes are terribly dark, his hair a mess.
She materializes a cup of coffee and a letter.
Bernard reads it and nods, writing a reply.
Tim,
Organize it. Keep me informed. The Order will tell us where to go once Snape knows. Unless we don't hear from them, we'll be working together.
--Bernard
He picks up the coffee and starts to walk back to the flat, when he pauses.
Reluctantly, slowly, Bar produces another letter.
Bernard turns, blinking, and picks it up.
He opens it.
There's a clinking sound, as something falls out to land, glittering, on the Bar's warm, shining surface.
Bernard stands there, staring at the letter blankly, for far too long.
He doesn't notice how his hands begin to shake the parchment so hard, there's no way anyone could read it.
He doesn't notice Bar's stain turning from a warm walnut to a deep, dull mahogany.
He doesn't see how she serves slower and slower, even as the patrons look around in confusion.
Eyes bone-dry, Bernard reaches over to pick up Nymphadora's engagement ring. It's really very beautiful.
The parchment crumples in his hand. His head is buzzing, screaming, and he can't breathe can't see can't speak and quickquickquick before he explodes, he stumbles out the lake door to sink down beside a mound of freshly turned earth, eyes too blind to notice the black rose at its apex.*