The Marauders - Order of the Phoenix Part Three

Chips and a Chat

"What sort of questions did you have for her exactly?"

"Well, before I got down to it with the questions, I had a good deal of excitement to get off my chest," Sean said, "But I reckon it wouldn't be proper to go bumbling on about what a cailín álainn my Friday might date is to my Friday night date."

Annalee leaned forward. "A what?"

"Cailín álainn."

Her eyes were hungry with question. 

"Beautiful girl."

She smiled, then, "Not with my hair all a mess and no make-up, Sean, stop flattering me." Her eyes sparkled though. She knew. What's more is he knew she knew and she knew he knew she knew but the amusement and admiration never left his eyes.

Actually, he thought it was rather nice that she knew.

It made him less afraid to say it.

"Chips." The waitress was back and plopping a full plate of chips on the table, heaping one, too; she must've felt bad for him for sitting there waiting all night for the girl that she probably thought had stood him up. But now Annalee was there and she looked Annalee over with a bit of surprise on her face. "Anything for the lady?" she asked.

Annalee shook her head no, but Sean laughed and said, "Bring her a pint of the black stuff, and another plate of chips, dearie."

The waitress left and Sean pushed the plate of chips evenways between them.

Annalee looked at the greasy things and laughed, "Please, I eat something like that and my complexion goes to hell."

"But your mouth is pleased." He lifted one of the chips up and popped it in his mouth merrily. "Oh c'mon you've just watched me order a second platter of 'em, you're not possibly going to make me eat them all the same as your bleedin' sister did?"

"Serves you right for ordering for me," she said sniffily.

"Psh, you weren't going to order nothin' at all!"

"I didn't want anything."

"You want the chips," he said, "I can see it on your face plain as day."

Annalee stared at him.

"And what's a night out with an Irish fella if you're not going to tip back a pint with me, huh?" Sean grinned as she blushed again and he laughed, "I'm sorry, if I'm comin' on too strong, just tell me to shut up my mouth and I'll do it. It's just, I find it hard to believe with the way your sister downed her little cocktail the other night that you'd be any less impressive at holdin' your liquor."

"She's actually one of the most talented people I know in that respect," Annalee replied, "The other one being Sirius Black."

Sean made a face, "Oh him, aye well not very many people do most things with the tenacity of Sirius Black, now do they?"

"Most certainly not," Annalee laughed, "But Marlene's basically the female equivalent of him."

"My condolences. You really need the Guinness then. Probably more'n I do." He slid the rest of his pint across the table to her and she looked at it, then looked at him, and, in a move that actually did sort of shock him, she took up the pint, raised the glass to him, and knocked it back in a single go. When she lowered the empty stein a moment later, nothing but foamy residue at the bottom and on her upper lip, she held her head proudly and grinned at him. 

"I stand corrected," Sean said as she slid the empty glass to him and he peered into it's emptiness, he looked up, grinning, "You're a bean álainn after all." He paused and when she raised her eyebrows, "A beautiful woman," he corrected.

Annalee laughed, and reached for one of his chips.

"Aye there ya are, good job," he said as she ate it.

"Wow, that's a good chip," she said.

"Best chips in the UK, I reckon," he nodded. 

"This is worth having terrible skin for."

"I know." He took one up and waved at his own complexion, "Can't you tell that's my motto on most things I eat?"

Annalee laughed, "You're brave for not giving a flying -- you know -- what everyone thinks."

"A flying fuck?" Sean asked, laughing at her hesitation at the word. He grinned, "No I think it's just I'm a Hufflepuff through and through and I don't fancy anyone's lookin' at me to even notice what my complexion looks like." He shook his head, "No, I'll leave the being brave up to you, lass."

Annalee shook her head, "Oh I'm not brave, that's for darn sure."

The wait ress came then, the second plate of chips (not near as stacked as the first had been) and the fresh pint of beer. 

"I'll have another as well, please," Sean said, holding up his empty glass, and the waitress nodded and left. He looked at Annalee as she took another, much smaller, sip off the new pint. "Of course you're brave, you were Gryffindor."

Annalee shook her head, lowering the stein from her lips, "I don't know how, to this day, I have no idea what the Sorting Hat was thinking."

He studied her, eyebrows pinched.

She could see in his eyes he didn't believe she wasn't brave, so she said, "I mean, I haven't got Marlene's brass, like she said --"

"Said that, did she?" Sean smirked. 

"Yeah, it's like a jazz band, you know, with trumpets and all the brass instruments, being all loud and energetic." 

Sean's smile deepened, "Never much into jazz, me. I'm much more of an accordion or a bagpipes sort of fella."

"Bagpipes?" Annalee pulled a face.

"Yes, and I've an excellent reason, but save it another day and let's hear how you - Annalee McKinnon - can possibly fancy her self even the slightest wee bit less than brave."

Annalee turned the glass about, the condensation creating water circles on the table top, her eyes watching it as though she were directing a ballet. Finally, her eyes went up to meet his. "Because I'm not brave, not even a little bit. I was snobbish and bitchy in school, not brave. I was scared most of the time, convinced that if somebody found out what was under the surface I worked to maintain then they'd just... leave me. Including my friends and - and my family. I reckon only Marlene ever has known the real me, I've been so busy hiding behind a mask of myself."

Sean let that settle between them, and then he scooted closer, reached out his hands, holding them open on the table. 

She stared at them a moment, then slowly, dropped her own hands into his palms, meeting his eyes and that intense, yet somehow gentle, too, gaze had her. 

"I should count it the highest honor to know - and love - the real you, mo mhuirnín."

If Annalee McKinnon ever had a choice about Sean Buckner, she didn't any more. That moment when those words fell so musically from his mouth was the moment when the choice was made and it was only a matter of time, and she knew it. And he knew she knew it because he could see it in her eyes and she knew he knew she knew it.

She flushed deeply from the sudden realization.

And Sean Buckner reckoned he'd just become the luckiest bloke in the entire history of the world.