This Boot Was Made For Walking

Rose’s smile grew wider the more Terry talked. He seemed to have very strong opinions of coffee. “No, no, I take absolute offense with what you just said,” Rose said with a wide grin. “I can’t believe the rudeness!” It was easy to joke around with Terry, mostly because he seemed to match her rambling with his own version. 

Growing more red as she teased him, Terry decided the best course of action was to shut his mouth. He’d only dig the hole deeper, although Rose probably wanted to keep joking around. “My apologies,” he said. “I’ll take that into consideration the next time I degrade the beverage.”

Rose pretended to think it over for a second. “Well, at least I won’t have to fight you for it,” she said finally. “I think I can accept that. Even though your taste is appalling.” The last part was said with a teasing smile. “And it’s not too bad, I mostly just talk more. More than this I mean, but you probably got that already.” Stop talking, Rose.

“That’s true,” Terry agreed. “We’d make practical friends, I think,” he said with a smile. “Appalling? I’ll have you know that that pure bitterness you call coffee is nothing special. At least you don’t have to grow accustomed to tea,” he huffed. Then he realized she must be joking because Rose wasn’t the kind of person to be rude about beverages. “And obviously when I talk too much I manage to make a fool of myself. Please forget what I just said,” he pleaded, shaking his head at himself.

“it depends –” theo smirked at the man, “are you mister hardworking and genuine?”  they teased, gesturing for them to sit. they took in the other, who looked a bit familiar, though, truthfully, that was a moot point. theo struggled with placing faces to names, and this was no difference in this case.theo had mostly kept to themselves in school, for all intents and purposes, a self proclaimed loner of sorts.

Wishing for the thousandth time that he could socialize acceptably, Terry settled for a nervous grin and sat down. “I suppose that would be me,” he said lamely. When he’d created his profile, he’d wracked his brains to figure out which two words described him best, and he was happy with the words he’d chosen. However, when he heard them from others he felt they just made him sound boring.

chemistry of romance // theo & terry

Here we go again, Terry thought as he entered the bar. The familiar scent of potions and plants filled his lungs, which calmed him a bit, even if his heart still stubbornly beat too quickly. As nervous as he was, he didn’t think drinking would be a good idea, yet he wasn’t sure he’d be able to go without ordering something. If he could have avoided the bar that would have been best, but in his experience most people looking for a date sat down there. So Terry made his way over.

At first Rose was confused about what Terry was referring to, but when she felt his hand in hers she blushed heavily and dropped it quickly. “Sorry,” she mumbled. “I wasn’t…” After taking a deep breath she tried to smile confidently toward him, despite her red cheeks. “Good to know.”

“I’m more of a tea person,” he said, making an apologetic face. “Actually, I absolutely loathe coffee. Can’t stand the taste of it, much to the annoyance of my mates.” Especially Michael and Anthony, who practically lived on the stuff. “How hyper, exactly?” Terry wasn’t sure he was properly equipped to deal with a suddenly supremely energetic Rose. “Let’s hope,” he replied to her thought.

A sense of relief filled Rose when her rambling didn’t make Terry want to run and hide, but was quickly replaced with yet another blush when she realised he’d implied that they’d spend more time together. “Well,” she managed to get out. “At least there’s conversation topics to be covered in case we can’t think of any.”

Feeling himself pulled along, he followed Rose without hesitation, although his mind still wondered what was happening. Sometimes the things that happened to his body didn’t quite reach his mind, yet this time it didn’t bother him. “I’m not going anywhere,” he responded, grinning. It felt nice to hold someone’s hand.

Rose could tell that Terry was trying to humour her and make her feel better. A part of her was grateful, but mostly she was wishing for a time turner to fix this mess. “Sorry,” Rose said, still feeling mortified. “I tend to ramble a lot. Did I mention that? Whenever I don’t know what to say I just say everything at once until I realise what I’m doing and just-” She snapped her mouth shut and stared wide-eyed at him. “Do that,” she finished awkwardly.

He couldn’t help but laugh at her expression. “Don’t worry,” he smiled good-naturedly. “I’m pretty much the exact opposite, so at least I know that there’ll be some sort of talking going on with you around.” Although he doubted his ability to flirt, he believed Rose would react positively to his teasing. “But I can go on and on about potions, so unless you’re ready for a five day conversation, maybe we should save that topic for later.”

Rose nodded and laughed slightly at his own confession. “Remind me to always wake you up after seven hours then,” she replied, then blushed heavily. “I mean…” When she couldn’t think of anything to save herself from what she’d just said, Rose felt like sinking through the floor. Whenever Rose felt embarrassed she just shut down completely until she, or whoever was talking to her, found some way to save the conversation.

“Umm.. sure,” Terry agreed, his face immediately bursting into flames at the thought of her needing to wake him up. “If the occasion arises, you know what to do?” he said, somehow managing to sound like he was asking a question instead of joking around. “Anything I should know?” Maybe knowing something like that about her would even the score and make it less embarrassing.

“Here’s a menu?” Dean puts two glasses down in front of the other man. He fills one with water from his wand and the other with a small potion he grabs from underneath the bar. “Anti-nausea potion, just in case. Really don’t feel like being witness to you chundering all over the floor I’m required to clean.”

Quickly ordering whatever looked like it had the most carbs, Terry watched Dean fill up two glasses. “Thanks, mate,” he groaned, his stomach doing a dance. The drunk man reached for the water, but at some point switched his target and went for the potion. Downing it in one go, he made a face at the bland taste and then chased it with the glass of water. “I don’t blame you. Besides, I’m sure there’ll be others who do that. No need for me to add my vomit to the mix.”

Rose nodded along to the suggestions he was making and deemed them acceptable. The Quidditch match would be a good way for them to spend time together but not necessarily talk if they didn’t have something to say. It was casual enough to not put that much pressure on them. “We can grab some coffee,” she said and nodded, even though he wasn’t looking at her. “I haven’t had caffeine in hours, so I should probably load up soon or I’ll be a cranky mess. Do you have something like that? You go without something for long enough that you get irritated at everyone.” 

By the fact that she was nodding (which he only saw out of the corner of his eye), Terry was almost sure that she was okay with Quidditch, which was a relief because he honestly was out of ideas. “So you’re a caffeine person,” he noted aloud. “Good to know.” He couldn’t help but smile at the thought of Rose being a cranky mess. It just didn’t seem to fit her. “Me? I’d have to say sleep, like most other human beings. I can handle it up to a point, but past that point there’s really no use in trying to hold a conversation with me. I may just kill you.”

“Aaaand we’re officially cutting you off.” Dean chuckles-though he didn’t really know the man on the other side of the bar, it was nice to see him loosen up “At least for a moment, you really should have some water but whatever, mate, I’m not your keeper.” 

A small pout crossed Terry’s face for a moment, but he knew that Dean was probably right. Still, he didn’t appreciate being told he couldn’t drink anymore. Setting his head on his crossed arms on the bar, he closed his eyes for a quick second. “Water would be good,” he groaned, the black world behind his eyes already starting to spin sickeningly. “And some food wouldn’t be unwelcome, either.”

Rose had just about given up, shoulders slumped and forcing down disappointment, when she heard her name being called through the store. 

Terry had not come here on a date. That was not the point of this meeting. He was here to meet with someone who had helped him out and who’d been very nice about the whole thing. Someone who he thought he could be good friends with.

“First one broke during school actually, well, you know.” He makes a vague gesture with his hand, not wanting to make the other man uncomfortable. He sighed at the mention of Terry’s Mum’s passing, getting two more glasses out. He slides one shot to Terry and takes the other one himself-Tom usually didn’t mind as long as they paid for it and didn’t get too shitfaced- “To your mum.” He clinks his shot glass against Terry’s and knocks it back. He scrunches up his face at the taste, still not a fan of the burning taste. “And that one’s on me, obviously.”

There was not a thought in Terry’s mind as to what Dean meant by the gesture, but he was sure he didn’t want to know. Instead, he gratefully reached for the offered shot, clinking it with Dean’s before taking it in one gulp. At this point, he was well past the point of caring about the taste, feeling more like he was drinking sparkling water than vodka. “Cheers, mate,” he said as thanks.

“It’s good you have friends, so you don’t always get stuck pouring your soul out to bartenders all the time. Kidding. It’s nice to see you.” Was he flirting? He might be flirting. Whatever, he needs the tips.

“True that,” Terry agreed, raising his shot to Dean’s words and tossing it back. “Sometimes I find that bartenders are better listeners, though, because I’m drunk and then it feels like everyone is listening.” He completely missed the flirtation in Dean’s words.

“That’s wonderful, mate. Truly, good for you.” He wipes down the bar as he speaks, antsy, like he always is at night now. “You mean other than becoming a fugative, getting captured, evading death and killing Death Eaters? Not much.” He chuckles, he’d been told he used humor as a coping mechanism, but he didn’t see it, he hid it so well.

“Thanks, mate!” Sometimes Terry forgot how fortunate he was to have gotten the internship. Already, the months and months of grinding study and pushing himself to get better at making potions was fading from his tired mind. “Well, yeah, other than that, I suppose.” His brain often skipped over the time from the war, refusing to acknowledge it had happened.

“I think that’s a requirement of drinking, honestly. Coming right up.” He waves his wand and the drinks pour themselves and float over to Terry. When the whiskey lands, another flick of his wand sets the alcohol on fire, causing a phoenix to rise out of the smoke as it puts itself out.

“I promise this isn’t a regular occurrence,” Terry said with a laugh. “I started working as an intern at Mungo’s a few months back. Living the dream,” he croaked weakly. “It can be a bit much, but it’s good work and it’s what I want to do.”

“Er, listen, mate, I’m your bartender, not your therapist.”

“Right, sorry. I just get sentimental about mum whenever I drink.”