WHO: Luke and Owen
WHEN: Sunday morning, after breakfast
WHERE: antechamber near the Great Hall
WHAT: Two Romeos practice their lines
COMPLETE



Luke felt like he'd been run over by the Knight Bus at full speed, twice. The hangover potion he'd downed had taken care of the headache, but it didn't cure the exhaustion and general grogginess from two late nights in a row. He was half-tempted to cancel on Owen, but then decided he better not. It wouldn't set a good precedent for their working relationship and he'd already arranged with a professor for them to have use of the ante-chamber off the Great Hall for rehearsal.

However, breakfast was right out of the question. A cup of strong coffee was the most he could manage. So he sent a message via a first year telling Owen where to meet and went to the ante-chamber ahead of time with script and his guitar. Playing music would help focus his mind.

He was plucking at the strings and singing lines softly when the door opened.

"Can I go forward when my heart is here?
Turn back, dull earth, and find thy centre out."

To be honest, and Owen was rarely anything else but honest just because of the fact that it was who he was - spare no one's feelings unless they were a friend (and don't get him started on the fact that people really threw that word around too often; people didn't do to friends half the betraying things he'd seen already at Hogwarts), he didn't want to be here. If he was asked, he'd admit to that, readily.

But he'd already agreed to this whole rehearsing thing, and he was trying to prove that he could be a bigger person like his mum had told him, even if he didn't much feel like it. But he was going to suck it up. It was, what? Less than sixty minutes of his time, and then he could be back in his his dorm doing something he actually enjoyed.

So when he'd received the note from the first year, he'd decided he was finished with breakfast and went back to Slytherin to get his copy of the script before heading to the place he was supposed to be meeting Luke. As he opened the door, he could hear and see the other boy and took a moment as the door closed behind him before speaking up. "Let's get to this, yeah?"

Reactions dulled by his exhaustion, it took Luke several heartbeats to realise someone was in the room and talking to him. Looking up he blinked at Owen before shaking his head to clear it. "Uh, yeah, right," he carefully put his guitar back in its case and picked up the script. "So... any preference about where to start?" he wasn't entirely sure how one went about this rehearsing with the understudy thing, but guessed they'd take turns at the part.

Owen raised an eyebrow at Luke's slow reaction to his arrival and question, briefly wondering if maybe he was on something. Gillyweed maybe. He was friends with CM's brother wasn't he? And CM's brother had made that whole entry about firewhiskey and gillyweed a couple of days before Hogsmeade weekend... Maybe he could use that?

Just when the thought was starting to develop into a real plan, though, he remembered to words: bigger, and person. Fucking hell.

Taking a seat in the first flat surface he could find, Owen shrugged, well aware that he was possibly being slightly difficult even as he said, "Not really." Though he had enough tact to keep from stating what he'd wanted to say next. That unless Luke found himself horribly sick or fell down a flight of stairs, Owen's preferences didn't really matter anyway.


On an ordinary day, Owen's less than helpful comment wouldn't have mattered, Luke would have just rolled with it and come to a quick decision. Right now, he was struggling. "Oh..." he stared at the script blankly. "Well... the beginning is a good start then," Luke was vaguely aware that he was giving a bad impression to this kid he barely knew, but it was too much effort to care. "Er..." a bit more flicking of the script and he found the spot. "Okay... from Benvolio's 'Good-morrow, cousin', all right? You being Benvolio."

Either he was on something or feeling the effects of being on something -- or stupid, Owen thought to himself as the raised eyebrow remained on his face a he waited for Luke to give him an answer. Easily finding the point in the script because Owen actually had all his mental ability, he said, "Yeah, okay."

He took a breath and tried to say in the least monotonous voice possible, "'Good-morrow, cousin.'"

To Luke's credit, he tried hard, and anyone who knew him would have immediately known he wasn't himself and told him to go back to bed. His head felt like cotton wool and the lines he'd learnt to say without even looking at the page didn't come easily at all. He started flubbing the simple lines, tangling his tongue on the language and finally threw the script down in frustration. "I'm sorry," he said rubbing one eye with the heel of his hand. "I do actually know this, but my head is stuffy this morning... Perhaps you should read for Romeo today."

This morning, Owen had decided, was starting to look up in ways he hadn't originally thought possible as he'd set out for this meeting, and a part of him wondered if it could possibly get any better as Luke messed up his lines and then finally gave up. Doing his best not to smile, he gave a slight nod. "Sure. I could do that."


"From the top then?" Luke reached down for the bottle of water he'd brought in with him and drank some down. His headache was coming back, not as bad as before, but enough that he knew he was going to be utterly useless for doing any decent acting today. "'Good morrow cousin'."

Owen's answer was wordless as he set his script aside. While he didn't know all the lines in the script, and wasn't planning to know all of them unless he needed to (especially when he had to learn the lines of Capulet as well), he knew this scene well enough that it wasn't necessary at the moment. "'Is the day so young?'"


Luke did wince slightly when Owen put his script aside, feeling a slight stab of annoyance. Was it really that necessary to show off? Still, he knew it was his own fault that he couldn't concentrate and had some comfort in the knowledge that under normal circumstances he would be doing the same thing. He focused on the script, rarely looking at Owen, as he read Benvolio's lines. His delivery was stilted, but this time he managed not to trip over his tongue so much. Owen was good, really good, and once again Luke wondered how he'd got the part.

"You're good," he acknowledge with a strained smile once the scene was done. "Have you done a lot of acting?"

Owen did genuinely grin at the compliment once the scene was over, and somehow managed to not blurt out what he wanted to say -- that he knew he was good. Especially since that reply would have possibly been filled to the brim with arrogance and envy.

Instead he said, "Thanks," and then shook his head. "Not really. Other than being a member of the Drama club."

"Well it's obvious you have a lot of talent for it," Luke believed in giving credit where credit was due. "I'm sorry my performance is so poor today. Two late nights in a row is not conducive to me being very coherent," he commented ruefully and then had to smother a yawn. "Perhaps it would be better to try again another day?" he suggested, feeling it wasn't very fair to Owen to be lumbered with a half-awake Luke right now.

"Creative outlets come kind of easily, I guess." Except for things of the drawing and painting kind. Which he was alright with, because limits were good. And, really, that was Patricia's territory, drawing murals and things.

Luke's next words were like a prayer being answered however, and Owen was going to go with it, easily. "I guess it wouldn't be. And another day would be fine." Grabbing his copy of the script, he pushed himself to standing position. "Until then?"

"Until then," Luke nodded and smiled. He let Owen leave, deciding that since he had the use of the antechamber for the next 30 minutes he might as well have a nap. Besides he couldn't be bothered to move.