Softly flowing through the mind, numbing every fiber. The laughter, it kills the pain, drowns it out. Where has she gone, the one. I have something to tell her, nothing will stop me. She is the one. I can feel it, for the first time in my life. I'm not young, I'm ready. Give her to me.
Familiar smells of alcohol seep in from the brick wall, the Thee Broomsticks just next door. A fight, perhaps. Muffled voices, drowned out from his record player. Scott, staring numbly at the ceiling, closes his eyes. His smile, a fake one at best, his mind flowing through the last encounter of her, the beauty in his life. His mind was lost, his ears trying to close out the sounds from below.
Bang!
His eyes, an unforgettable shade of blue, shot open. Scott, now out of his dream, intent on listening to what is happening one wall over. A fight? No, he would definitely hear louder fighting then that. His mind, before distracted, now tries to tune into the thoughts of the others.
Annoying, arrogant fools. Drunk minds, nonsense, I can't understand anything. Do I go over there? Or let it unfold?
It typically did just that, unfolded and calmed after just a few hours. Normally, the fighting took place at night, the yelling, and sometimes a crash of glass to the wall, but this fight... in broad daylight? No one would be so stupid to get drunk at this time, well... anyone with sense at this point in time wouldn't.
That bang though, could it have been a flash of a wand? Not that it was any of his business anyway, the bartender would take care of it soon enough.
Scott's eyes lingered on the wall, it had changed. The atmosphere, so tense, was now silent.. like night, like death.
How... peculiar, he thought to himself. Not of normal activity at the Three Broomsticks. There was no banging of doors, no one had gotten the boot. So what happened?
Why should he worry about it, probably just a fight like any other night. Why was he so stuck on it? Scott shook his head, it was all psychological. He wanted a distraction, and it had been handed to him straight on. A dangerous one though, should he go check? He wanted to, of course... anything to get his mind off of Sarah. The beauty in his dreams, in his thoughts, everything reminded him of her, it was destroying him ever so slowly. It had been nearly a month since that night. It was just one night, why should it matter to him what she did now?
It did matter, most dearly. He wasn't in love, that would be silly to say after one night, but that night... was so incredible, even if it was just a simple hello and talk. Something had caught on to him, and it stayed with him now.
Memories, smell... touch... sight... all of it circulated in his mind.
Bang!
This time he stood. His mind, cleared of everything. This was his distraction, and whatever higher power there was in the above world, it was giving him a clear chance.
He slipped his robe on over his white dress shirt, slipping his black shoes on as he walked to his door. His house was small, but perfect for just one. Just him, that's all it ever was. It was simply a rectangle room. The front door, a faded green, led out onto the street of Hogsmead. His floors were dark brown, the floorboards waxed so well that you could see your reflection in them- if you looked. The walls were brick, all simple, no pictures nor rugs. Just this. This was all he needed.
He paused at the door, making sure his wand was safely in his pocket. It was, so he continued out the door. Walking for just a few feet in the warm air of summer, before turning a quick right. The Three Broomsticks sign swung lazily over his head as he stepped in, bracing himself.
Familiar smells of alcohol seep in from the brick wall, the Thee Broomsticks just next door. A fight, perhaps. Muffled voices, drowned out from his record player. Scott, staring numbly at the ceiling, closes his eyes. His smile, a fake one at best, his mind flowing through the last encounter of her, the beauty in his life. His mind was lost, his ears trying to close out the sounds from below.
Bang!
His eyes, an unforgettable shade of blue, shot open. Scott, now out of his dream, intent on listening to what is happening one wall over. A fight? No, he would definitely hear louder fighting then that. His mind, before distracted, now tries to tune into the thoughts of the others.
Annoying, arrogant fools. Drunk minds, nonsense, I can't understand anything. Do I go over there? Or let it unfold?
It typically did just that, unfolded and calmed after just a few hours. Normally, the fighting took place at night, the yelling, and sometimes a crash of glass to the wall, but this fight... in broad daylight? No one would be so stupid to get drunk at this time, well... anyone with sense at this point in time wouldn't.
That bang though, could it have been a flash of a wand? Not that it was any of his business anyway, the bartender would take care of it soon enough.
Scott's eyes lingered on the wall, it had changed. The atmosphere, so tense, was now silent.. like night, like death.
How... peculiar, he thought to himself. Not of normal activity at the Three Broomsticks. There was no banging of doors, no one had gotten the boot. So what happened?
Why should he worry about it, probably just a fight like any other night. Why was he so stuck on it? Scott shook his head, it was all psychological. He wanted a distraction, and it had been handed to him straight on. A dangerous one though, should he go check? He wanted to, of course... anything to get his mind off of Sarah. The beauty in his dreams, in his thoughts, everything reminded him of her, it was destroying him ever so slowly. It had been nearly a month since that night. It was just one night, why should it matter to him what she did now?
It did matter, most dearly. He wasn't in love, that would be silly to say after one night, but that night... was so incredible, even if it was just a simple hello and talk. Something had caught on to him, and it stayed with him now.
Memories, smell... touch... sight... all of it circulated in his mind.
Bang!
This time he stood. His mind, cleared of everything. This was his distraction, and whatever higher power there was in the above world, it was giving him a clear chance.
He slipped his robe on over his white dress shirt, slipping his black shoes on as he walked to his door. His house was small, but perfect for just one. Just him, that's all it ever was. It was simply a rectangle room. The front door, a faded green, led out onto the street of Hogsmead. His floors were dark brown, the floorboards waxed so well that you could see your reflection in them- if you looked. The walls were brick, all simple, no pictures nor rugs. Just this. This was all he needed.
He paused at the door, making sure his wand was safely in his pocket. It was, so he continued out the door. Walking for just a few feet in the warm air of summer, before turning a quick right. The Three Broomsticks sign swung lazily over his head as he stepped in, bracing himself.