Who: Vic Black + Pippa Rosmerta What: Cleaning and sore muscles When: After the Memorial Day thingy [backdated] Where: The Ginger Coo/Rosmerta Flat Status: Complete Rating: Low
Vic hadn’t moved much from her corner stool since she’d arrived around 23:30, and that was only partially because of her sore-arse arse muscles. She’d socialised a little--shared a plate of cheesy chips ‘round midnight with Ginny and pounded back a few ales with some of the other aerials, knowing she’d be feeling it tomorrow but not really giving a shite.
When the clock hit 4:06 AM and a couple customers she recognised from her training squadron lingered after Last Call, Vic’s semi-subtle finger-drumming atop the bar turned into full-on stony glares. “C’mon, you wankers. Take ‘em back to the barracks. Some of us need to clean up and get some sleep so we can do it all again tomorrow night.” Vic spoke as if she worked there, which she didn’t--not officially, anyway. She helped on occasion when Pippa and Jack needed an extra pair of hands, and she’d gotten quite good behind the bar after stepping in regularly the summer when Madam Rosmerta passed. But mostly, these days, she lingered after hours when she could to help with clean-up and spend some quality time with her best mate.
She reached across the bar and plucked a wash rag soaking in the cleaning potion cauldron, grimacing as she stepped off the stool and slowly made her way over to the low-top tables with a special brand of drunk/aching swagger. “People are so bloody disgusting and inconsiderate,” she mumbled mostly to herself but loud enough for Pippa to hear as she began wiping down tabletops by hand. (At least she had the awareness to not even attempt using her wand in her state.)
*
"People are people," Pippa pointed out, wand drawn as she cleaned up around where Vic was 'helping'. The night had been about as busy as it ever was during these things, which was to say they were the best nights of the month. The Minister really knew how to drive people to drink. Pippa was sure that wasn't her intention, but it was the result. The night of these ceremonies and after any battle, she could be sure they'd be slammed. "C'mon, you've got drills in the morning, yea? You don't have to help out." She wasn't actually sure there would be, but still. Vic and the others did way more than she did, helping at the pub on top of it was way too much.
---
“Yeah, and most of them are shitebags,” she shot back, casting a lazy grin at Pippa over her shoulder. “Present company excluded.” Despite her inebriated state, Vic did a decent job wiping down the tables, stacking left behind glasses for Pippa to magic back into the wash bins. “Mmmmnope! Drill-free. I can hang with you ‘til you kick my arse out.”
*
"You won't find any argument from me," she grinned, picking up the glasses that were being stacked and sending them back to the soapy bucket waiting for them. A sponge was already scrubbing them on its own. At least Pippa could do pub-related magic pretty alright. "Might as well keep you until you won't wake Gin up fumbling around. You don't have to help, though. Water?"
---
Vic scoffed. “Excuse you, Rosmerta, I’m not fumbling around.” She managed a… semi-successful twirl before leaning heavily on the table to right herself. “See? Graceful as ever. Not that it matters ‘cause we both know Gin sleeps like the dead.” Moving to the next table, she began stacking more cups so the charm could send them back more organized. “I like helping you out. S’good feeling useful. Water’d be great, thanks, but I can fetch it myself, y’know. You’ve been working all damn night.”
*
She watched Vic turn, a brow raised skeptically. She managed to hide her concern at each wobble, knowing the tables were there to save her but also potentially hurt her if she didn't catch herself in time. "When were you ever graceful, Black?" She was right about Ginny, though…
"You're useful. You protect this entire community, after all." Pippa was already moving to get a glass of water, ignoring any of Vic's protests. "I'd say that's more than most around here do, you don't have to tack more on top of it."
---
“Oi! I’m as graceful as a bloody ballerina!” Even she couldn’t hold back the snort to pass off the statement as convincing. But at Pippa’s insistence that she proved useful, Vic wrinkled her nose. “Maybe someday. Haven’t seen the sky yet. Just kicking my arse every damn day, getting so sore I walk like an Inferi, and--” While Pippa approached with the water, Vic glanced down and tugged her own t-shirt upward, exposing her surprisingly toned (yet still ghostly pale) abdomen. “Look, I’ve got actual muscles now, which s’weird but kinda wicked, yeah?” She threw back her head and huffed another chuckle. “You do loads more than you realize, y’know. This place…” She glanced around the pub, heaving a heavy sigh. “S’really the only thing down here that reminds us of home. You make that happen. ‘Cause you’re brill.”
*
"You are busting your arse every day in the hopes that things will get better, you know? I'm faffing about like nothing's changed except there's trees in the sky which is also made out of rocks. Not very productive or useful." Handing off the water, she pulled one of the chairs down from on top of a table and set it down. "Sit and drink for a bit, yea? Regale me with some dumb story while I get the floors mopped."
---
Vic shrugged and tugged her shirt back down, accepting Pippa’s water glass with a grateful salute. She flopped onto the chair, sloshing the water around and taking a few gulps. “We’re gonna have to disagree on that one, mate. Everyone appreciates you, too.” At the story request, Vic leaned back a bit in the chair. “Dad stopped by this morning with coffee and pastries and told me we’re gonna build a motorbike for me by hand? Which… seems pretty mental, yeah? ‘Cause s’not like I can prob’ly ever ride it.”
*
Rolling her eyes a bit, Pippa flicked open the broom closet with her wand and set the mop on its path, getting the rest of the chairs flipped onto the table in order so the floor could get as clean as a pub floor ever was. "Gives you something to do, though?" She didn't have a lot of love for Vic's dad but she liked the idea of a distraction. "I bet you could drive it a little down here. And then when we're out of here you'll have a bike." And a massively underpopulated country to ride it in…
---
“Reckon so, yeah. ‘Specially since you won’t let me help. Gotta do something else with my free time,” she teased, chugging the rest of the water. “Always wanted a motorbike. Well--ever since I borrowed Dad’s and crashed it.” Not her finest moment. “Maybe I can make mine fly, too. That’d be wicked.”
*
"Oi! I have employees to help, you know. You've got a job. You can't be greedy and take all the jobs, Victoria." A swish of her wand and the glass went back to soak with the others. "I bet it'll look wicked even if it can't fly, but your Dad'd probably help with that too. Maybe wait until you don't crash it on the ground though."
---
Vic’s jaw fell slack and she narrowed her eyes in a glare that held no actual malice. “Godric’s bollocks, Philippa, is this what I get when I try to help my best mate? Being nice is fucking overrated.” She chuckled at herself and nodded. “Yeah, yeah. S’pose I’ll get actual lessons this time or whatever.”
*
Pippa wrinkled her nose in Vic's direction. Victoria was a perfectly fine name, if a bit stuffy. Philippa on the other hand… "You've helped me loads over the years, you know, before. This is the only way I can help you back. And you'd better get lessons. You're not dying on a motorbike, you hear me?"
---
“And you’ve helped me! We’re square, yeah? That’s the whole deal with being best mates.” She considered for an extra beat. “I’ll get lessons, but really, though. Dying on a motorbike isn’t a shite way to go compared to some of the other options.” Like that fog that made everyone sick. No bloody thanks. “You tired? Wanna go upstairs, unwind a bit?” She tugged a joint from her front pocket and offered it up.
*
"Still isn't when you're in your hundreds, surrounded by all of the world's animals. So, not allowed." Resting her hands on her hips, Pippa looked around, mentally ticking off the closing list. There wasn't anything that wouldn't keep until morning.
"Alright. Sounds good, lead the way."
---
Vic snorted. “Yeah, sounds about right. I’ll’ve scared off all the humans in the world by then.” An affectionate grin pulled at her lips as she watched Pippa in work mode, unable to help noting the similarities between her and her mother, who used to stand in the same position at the very end of a busy night. She shook that thought quickly, though, pushing up from the chair and slowly made her way to the staircase that led up to the Rosmerta flat and stepping aside once they reached the door so Pippa could do the honors of letting them in. (It was the polite thing to do… but also Vic was still traumatized by that time she accidentally walked in on Jack and some bird in a compromising position.)
*
"Nah, not all of them. You'll still have me. And Ginny." Tugging at her apron string, she unwrapped the flap of fabric from around her waist and set it behind the bar before following Vic upstairs, smirking a bit when she noticed her hanging back. Jack's pasty arse could make someone blind if he wasn't careful with it. Not that she had room to talk. Pippa pushed ahead anyway, giving the shared living space a quick once-over. "All clear, Black."
---
She was pretty confident her best mates would grow tired of her eventually. Especially when they got older and undoubtedly settled down with whomever and had families and shite, leaving her behind… but that was a depressing thought, so she shook her head. “Wizengamot’s still out on Weasley,” Vic said breezily, though Pippa would be able to hear the teasing affection in her tone. She winced like the pathetically sore sod she was as she lowered herself down onto the Rosmerta couch. “Thanks, mate. Much better than wooden bar stools.” Fishing the joint back from her pocket, she lit the tip with her wand and offered it up to Pippa for the first hit.
*
"Nah, she's put up with you this long, yea? You haven't been murdered in your sleep so it seems sticky." Closing the door behind her, she set up the locks carefully. Yes, she knew most people here underground were trustworthy, but there was a weird paranoia she couldn't shake sometimes. Turning back, she took in the pathetic sight in front of her with a sympathetic warmth. "You first, I reckon you need it more than me. Besides, you're the guest." With a soft oof, Pippa fell back into the sofa, immediately sinking into the overstuffed piece of furniture. Her feet ached, her calves ached, her whole body was just one massive ache, but she was used to it. Not used to it enough that the aches didn't come, but at least they were a familiar companion.
---
Vic shrugged and took the first pull, inhaling the substance deep into her lungs and holding it for a few beats before tossing her head back and blowing expert smoke rings into the air above them. She passed it off to Pippa after she settled and then patted her hands on her lap. “C’mon, give ‘em here.” She knew all too well how sore Pippa got after working a full shift, especially on a busy night--she’d done it herself a few times, after all.
*
Pinching the joint in her fingers, Pippa took a pull then let it out slowly before taking another short one. Holding her breath this time, she passed it back and shook her head stubbornly. Even though she usually gave in eventually, she hated to be a burden, and especially a needy one when Vic had her own aches and pains from training and such. Lungs bursting, she exhaled finally. "You're sore yourself."
---
A soft chuckle passed Vic’s lips as she took the joint and another two hits. “That’s because I’m a fucking idiot who can’t be arsed to stretch when I’m s’posed to.” She handed the joint back and patted her lap more firmly this time. “C’mon, Pips. Let me help. If you wanna return the favor and give my arse a good rubdown after I might not say no.”
*
Lifting her legs took effort, but she managed it with minimal noises, shifting on the couch until her shoulders were resting against the arm. "You're going to get malkied, carrying on like that. They tell you to do that shite for a reason." Properly settled, she took a long hit, savoring it this time as the earlier ones began creeping up her spine, releasing her muscles. "'N' 'm not above going to come yell at you after for it, either."
---
“Yeah, yeah, I know. One day maybe I’ll get the hang of it all.” Vic toed off her boots and shifted to mirror Pippa’s positioning on the opposite side of the couch, taking her heels and resting them properly atop her lap. She wrapped her hands around her socked right foot first, gently working her thumbs in a slow, circular massage up the center of the arch. “Better you yelling at me than the pricks who’re technically my superiors.”
*
A moan escaped through Pippa's parted lips as Vic expertly manipulated the bones and muscles in her foot, her eyes falling shut for a moment as she let the pleasure take her away for a moment. Basking in it for that short time, she finally propped herself up a bit more and held the joint to Vic's lips. "You know they will, too. So that's double the amount."
---
She kept her eyes on Pippa’s face, taking cues from her nonverbal reactions as well as the vocal ones as she continued working her thumbs into the sore muscles there, moving from the arch to the ball of her foot. As the gillyweed worked its magic on her own muscles--particularly those in her neck and shoulders--Vic’s gaze locked on Pippa’s mouth. The source of the sound… a moan that sent a sudden uncomfortable flutter through her stomach, the tips of her ears heating beneath her hair. (What the hell was that?) She shook herself out of it when Pippa leaned forward, graciously accepting the proffered joint before relaxing back yet again. “Reckon m’a glutton for punishment,” she mumbled, her fingers kneading along the sides of Pippa’s foot while her thumbs kept at it. “How’s that?”
*
Tamping out the joint on a coaster, she let her hand fall to the floor as her body fully relaxed so she could properly enjoy Vic's massage and the tingly feeling running up and down the length of her body. She was a breathing goosebump. "Good," she mumbled, immediately cringing as a particularly sore spot on her arch was reached. It hurt, but in a good way, and she pressed her foot forward into Vic's fingers. "Anyone who knows you for more than 5 minutes knows that, mate. But don't let it get you killed."
*
Another throaty laugh escaped. Honestly, only her mates could pull genuine laughs from her like that. (Sometimes even without substances lowering her guard!) “We both know I’m too bloody stubborn to let some sod kill me,” she shot back with a slow smirk spreading. Her focus shifted to Pippa’s heel next and the space behind her ankle, providing enough pressure to work out some of the stiffness there. Relaxed Pippa loosened the knot in Vic’s chest. She worked so damn hard and deserved this, and it truly brought her happiness to be the one to help Pippa unwind. “Good to know I’m not a shite consolation prize for after-hours entertainment,” she teased.
*
All of her shoes had cushioning charms, especially her heels, but there wasn't much to be done for ankle support magically. Vic's fingers were their own kind of magic, and Pippa's mind went blank for a moment as she dug into the muscles that had been supporting and balancing her all day. Another groan, this one longer and higher pitched, her jaw going slack as her brows knit together. She didn't deserve mates like this, didn't deserve such pampering. It took a minute or two of silence before her brain came back online and she realized Vic had been talking.
"Did you say something?"
---
Pippa’s reaction struck Vic harder that time--twisting up her gut and sending unfamiliar heat rushing through her veins. She swallowed the lump in her throat and willed the flush to leave her cheeks and chest, snapping her eyes down onto Pippa’s foot while she continued to work, inwardly berating herself. (Pippa was objectively gorgeous, Vic knew that. Anyone with a pulse would have a similar reaction.) “Nothing important,” she rasped, clearing her throat and working her fingers in a rhythmic knead up Pippa’s calf muscle. “S’good spending time together like this, yeah? Almost makes me miss the dorms.” More nights than not, Vic worked herself into passing out, and some weeks in the caves she only managed to catch Pippa on weekends. It was shite, if you asked her.
*
"Mm, yea. The dorms were dead brilliant." A time before everything had come crashing down, back when she'd had hopes and dreams for a future of her own making. It was sad to think about sometimes, to realize everything she'd lost. But they were good memories all the same, and she wouldn't trade them for anything, not even their old lives above ground. As Vic moved up her body, Pippa slid down the couch so she wouldn't have to reach so far. Her clothes rode up a bit but she didn't think much of it; Vic had seen her in many different states of dress over the years and she knew she wouldn't be judged. "Cheers for this."
---
Vic hadn’t thought through her offer when Pippa shifted toward her in that short skirt, and when it rode up even further, she swept her gaze upward and-- “Godric,” she breathed before she could help it, panic surging a beat later when she realized she’d let that slip. “I--your, uh--calf muscle. Really--really damn tight.” (Get it the fuck together, Black.) “And yeah, sure--no problem. Anytime.”
*
"If it's too hard, you can stop. Your hands need to be limber for wandwork, yea? And you've helped loads already." Not just the massage but the gillyweed as well as the company, which was also thanks to Vic. Pushing herself up a bit, she held a hand out. "Here, I can give you a hand massage so you don't leave here wrecked."
---
She eyed Pippa for a moment before extending her hand. “I’m stronger than I look, y’know. And you can do the hand thing if you want but I’m not getting my arse off this couch ‘til I even you out and work on the other leg after, deal?”
*
Shifting a bit more, Pippa took Vic's hand and started making smooth, long strokes with her thumbs. "Stronger than a tiny kitten? I know. So am I, actually, if you want to start getting defensive. Guess I'll just have to do this again when you finish the other leg, yea? After you drink some more water." Pippa gave her a level look, daring her to protest.
---
Her stormy eyes narrowed in a non-threatening glare. “I’m a lynx, Rosmerta. A badarse lynx.” Her patronus said so, which made it law. She considered the proposed plan and dipped her head into a nod. “Yeah, all right. Sounds fair enough.” She sucked in a sharp breath through her nose when Pippa began working her hand muscles, catching her lower lip between her teeth as a pathetic little whimper escaped. Vic’s hands, pale like the rest of her, sported several scarred nicks and burn tracks from her dragon handling, fingertips slightly callused from her consistent work on a broom for the past ten months. She’d run out of her black nail polish last month, so her nails remained bare. She hated that.
*
"A lynx kitten," Pippa replied, tossing Vic a wink as she moved on to separate and pull on her fingers a bit, loosening the tightness that came not just from a massage but also a death-grip on a broom or wand. She was careful around the worst of the scars, not wanting to cause pain. That was the same reason she didn't ask about the ones she felt were newer as well. Military training was closed off from the rest of the population, so Pippa had no real idea what went on there, and a bit of shame came with not knowing. "Feels good?"
---
Honestly, who knew there were so many nerve endings in a hand? Certainly not Vic. “Arse,” she whispered, unable to fully wipe the smirk from her expression. At the question, Vic's head jerked upward and bobbed in a frantic nod. “Yeah, s’brilliant.” Her mouth suddenly went a bit dry--Vic blamed the weed--and she licked her lips in an attempt to provide some moisture there. “I truly fucked up. Should've definitely figured out how to get you as my flatmate instead of Weasley.”
*
"You wouldn't want Jack as your other flatmate, and he can't be trusted alone, you know that." Jack was perfectly capable, actually, but having lost their mum and almost lost him, she wasn't inclined to separate herself just yet. "Besides, I'm sure you two have loads of fun that doesn't involve dragging your arse to bed at 3 am every morning."
---
Vic’s nose wrinkled as she remembered all too vividly that pasty arse. “All right, you’ve got a point there.” She shrugged. “Can’t say we have much fun, honestly. They work us ‘til we drop most days. We drag our arses back to our flat with barely enough energy to eat and shower and crash, then it’s wake up and repeat.”
*
Nodding, Pippa's smile was understanding. "I'm always surprised when the soldier types make it to the pub at night. Dunno how some of them do it without losing their bloody minds. Maybe they have already." Dropping Vic's hand, she reached for the other and began the same treatment. "But see, there's another reason. You'd get shite sleep with me coming all hours of the night."
---
“Gotta have something to look forward to, I reckon.” For Vic it was less about getting shite-faced and more about seeing Pippa. “And yeah, we must be at least a little mental. Some full-on mental. And I dunno about that…” She didn’t protest when Pippa swapped her hands. “Pretty sure I developed the ability to pass out anywhere, through anything, so.” She shrugged. “Maybe one day we’ll work it out, yeah?”
*
"Yea, definitely," she flashed a big smile, hoping it was reassuring. It came out a bit more like a customer service smile, but she was really good at those. "We won't be down here forever anyway, you know? Plenty of other places to live in our lifetimes."
---
“Cheers to that.” They had to believe they’d get out, yeah? Otherwise what was the point? “Your turn.” Vic flexed her loosened fingers and shifted Pippa’s other leg into her lap, once again starting by working her thumbs into the arch of her foot. “Spotted McLaggen with his creepy eye on you all night,” she said, somehow resisting the urge to curl her lip in distaste. She let that hang, wondering if Pippa noticed. Or if she cared at all, if so.
*
"You think every bloke is creepy. He left me a decent tip, and he's not half bad to look at." Pippa was about to shrug, but Vic's thumbs dug into a particularly sore spot and she yelped, then let out a small whimper.
---
Vic wrinkled her nose. “Sorry, I’ll be more careful,” she muttered, now hyperfocusing on Pippa’s foot. “And they’re not all creepy. Your brother’s all right. Ginny’s brothers are all right. Well--most of ‘em.”
*
"Not your fault, blame those shoes," she shot them a glare and wiggled her foot in Vic's grasp, hoping to jostle her out of any impending mood swing. "Jack's alright except for his pale arse, you mean."
---
Vic’s expression twisted into one of sheer disgust. “Oi! Still trying to self-obliviate that from my brain, y’know.” She shuddered in a rather overdramatic fashion. “Could’ve been worse, though. Could’ve been hairy.” Her whole face scrunched with distaste that time.
*
Pippa's laugh echoed around the room, probably too loud for the hour, but oh well. "I have at least another week to tease you about that, then you can forget. I'll do the charm myself if you want," she winked, then tried to hide another cringe. Stupid bloody legs and feet.
---
“Brill, thanks. We both know I’d fuck that one up on myself." Her eyes flickered up to Pippa’s face in time to catch the wink and the mostly masked cringe. “Maybe you ought to have a good hot soak in the tub before bed, yeah? That’ll probably be more helpful than this.”
*
Checking the clock on the wall, she shook her head. "A good idea, maybe for tomorrow night? It won't be as busy as tonight so I ought to have time before I have to do this all over again." Even the thought of bed made her yawn, which she tried to stifle. "You staying over or heading home?"
---
Vic shrugged. “D’you have a preference?” She could make it home all right, she was pretty confident. But it felt kinda far at the same time.
*
"Nope! But I'm not obliviating any morning memories of Jack from your mind if you do stay over." It'd be easy enough to set up another makeshift bed, and it'd be like the dorms all over again.
---
“Yeah that’s fair, s’pose it’s my risk this time.” She finished up Pippa’s leg massage and gently removed the limb from her lap, groaning with sore exhaustion as she pushed up and offered Pippa a hand off the couch. “Lead the way.”