bait_backup | Anticipation has the habit to set you up for disappointment in evening entertainment

*The toilets are packed to the brim with women straightening out skirts and dresses and monitoring their arses in tight trousers. Lily is nearly distracted from her main mission of reapplying lipstick by an acquaintance she knew at Hogwarts. The conversation is short and shallow, complete with a false grin she has perfected over the past several months. Ramona Green, a leggy former Ravenclaw three years older than Lily, doesn't hesitate to pinch Lily's waist and marvel at the lack of baby weight.

Lily nearly laughs, nearly tells her, "You just can't see the stretch marks through this dress!" But just as she opens her mouth, Ramona pulls out a small, blue vial and holds it up to her nose. The sniff is dainty, followed by a small shudder and a smile.

"Care to?" Ramona twists the vial between her fingers.

Lily wants to say no. But she finds herself shrugging and muttering, "Just a try I guess."

Moments later, Lily leaves the toilets feeling more guilty than excited. It wasn't much, and she's not even sure she did it properly. But her nose still burns and her head feels a bit funny.

She shuffles through the crowd and spots James standing by the bar, holding her drink in his left while his own is gripped in his right.*

Have I really been away from a club for this long? Since when are drinks so bloody expensive?

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I think I'll pass on that one.

*She resumes sipping her martini and eyes James beneath lashes heavy with mascara. He's staring at her with that familiar glazed, longing look.

It feels like she's seventeen again, finally coming to the daunting conclusion that she fancies the four eyed, messy haired idiot. It sent her heart pounding, knowing she was desired and finally returning the sentiment. But it was a power trip as well, knowing he watched her. It was a thrill, realizing what a simple stretch of her back or lick of her lips did to him.

Excitement still courses through her now, years after the whirlwind of seventh year; but marriage and war and motherhood are stifling.

Tonight is different, however. She's determined to make it different, and she's determined to feel the thrill again.

Lily leans towards James with an impish grin, trailing a hand from his knee to his hip.*

In case you've forgotten, you owe me a dance.

*James shudders and his legs turn to jelly. It's a bit unfair, he thinks, how she knows exactly what to do to get him worked up, but her turn ons are still largely a mystery to him. Of course, it's a bit easier when wearing a dress as short as hers. James' gray trousers don't provide quite the same advantage.

I haven't forgotten. That's why we came here, isn't it? Not yet though, I er, don't fancy this song much. Rubbish.

*James attempts to signal the bartender. He's stalling, as this song is much too fast for him. This song might require spinning or rhythm or the use of both a left and right foot, whereas all James really wants to do is press Lily's body up against him with some occasional swaying. He's found he's really quite good at that.

Rubbish my arse. Come on!

*With a tug of James' arm, Lily hops out of the slender bar stool and drags James to the dance floor.*

I like your shit dancing!

*James takes a second shot and barely manages to set it down before being tugged away from the bar. He stumbles a bit, and uses Lily to regain his balance. Maybe that second shot wasn't the greatest idea.
However, Lily's words put him at ease; at least her expectations weren't high.*

If it's shit dancing you like, it's shit dancing you shall receive. I distinctly remember one girl comparing me to a wriggling flobberworm-- that wasn't you, was it?

No, but I send her my condolences. Whoever she is.

Come on, just move your hips a little, yeah? Feet too.

No, I guess it wasn't you. Back then, you wouldn't have said anything nearly that kind.

*He winks at her, and attempts to follow her instructions. She's a thousand times more graceful than he is, even in her tight dress and high heels. He seems to be managing all right though, but it could just be the shots starting to take effect.

He tries spinning her around few times, and it's not perfect, but she's smiling, and it's the most refreshing thing he's seen in months. He's feeling pretty impressed with himself until he feels a strong blow to his back, and falls forward.

He quickly picks himself up, and runs his hands through his hair a few times, hoping to seem unphased by the stumble. He looks around to see who knocked into him. The greasy haired man with tattoos up his arm looked a few years older than him seemed relatively unconcerned with James' fall.*

Fucking... tosser.

*He turns his back, and wraps his arms around Lily, pulling her close.*

So how-- where were we? I can't wait to get you home...

*It's tempting, the idea of letting her lips brush against the shell of James' left ear, lipstick smearing along with it. She'd say, "And do what, exactly?" before taking a few stabs herself, debauchery growing with each titillating scenario as her roaming hand becomes a bit too fresh for public. He'd turn red but have a sloppy, cocky grin, and this would continue for who knows how bloody long.

It's tempting, but the moment is lost when Lily shouts at the stranger's retreating figure.*

Oy, you saw what you did! Don't be a prick! Apologize, will you?

*The man, who has a drink in each hand, takes a sip from one before turning to face Lily. He looks her up and down, pauses, and says, "Excuse me?"

It's not that James doesn't want to tell the guy off either. He does. However, it's not quite as fun as getting all fresh with Lily. But she never lets these things go, or seem to grasp that men don't usually appreciate having women stand up for them. He takes her hand, trying to pull her back towards him.*

S'alright Lily. I’ll be fine. No need to call the hospital or anything.

*Lily wriggles her hand away, directing her attention to the man in front of her. He's a towering sort of figure, with a sort of bulk about him that James certainly lacks. Lily is far from intimidated, however, and prods one of his tattooed arms for emphasis.*

You heard me, mate. Quit acting all hard and just apologize. He could have gotten hurt!

*He's feeling a bit dizzy, and James' fingers are left grasping the air as he tries to keep Lily from pulling away. This could end one of two ways. The guy could give Lily a satisfactory apology and they'd forget the whole thing, or it could escalate into a shouting match leaving Lily too irritated to shag him later. James angrily kicks the floor.

The man isn't too happy about Lily poking his arm, and tries to push her off with his elbow. As he does, most of his drink sloshes over the brim, soaking Lily's chest. He looks at her, outraged. "Now look what you—" He's interrupted by a friend tapping him on the shoulder, and he turns away. When he turns back to Lily, he's collected himself. "Look," he says, speaking slowly. "Your boyfriend's going to be just fine. Stop being a bitch and get out of my fucking face, will you? Unless you want to replace my drink."*

*Lily's mouth hangs open as the chill of the drink seeps through her dress. She can feel the liquid traveling in thick, slow trails along her skin. The smell of it hits her nose, heightening the rest of the smells in the club; sweat and sticky, spilled beer sticking to the bottom of dress shoes.

Her cheeks are red with anger and embarrassment, and by now she's finding it hard to choose her words wisely.*

I'll be happy to replace that stick up your arse with my—

Anticipation has the habit to set you up for disappointment in evening entertainment

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