Around
Author: Taiorami
Rating: Eventual R (M?)
Pairings: Snape/Harry, Remus/Sirius, Blaise/Hermione, Bill/Draco, Ron/Seamus, Dean/Ginny.
Warnings: Snarky!Snape, Gothrock!Harry, Hyper!Harry, Nutty!Sirius, Long-suffering!Remus, sarcastic!Ron, Sexy!Bill (duh?) and whatever else I decide to toss in. Rape, violence, language, sex, homophobic attitudes, and such.
Notes: I've been watching too much 'Gravitation'. Lets just leave it at that, ne? I mean…I'm not following that story idea, but that's what this plot is based upon. I didn't write the songs, but I do have permission from the author to use them.
Summery: Harry is a wanna-be rock star and Snape is a famous, but reclusive, author. When they happen to cross paths their lives change drastically and it seems everyone is watching.
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Prelude
Why don't you sleep
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Harry Potter figured, as he raked his fingers through his hair, that he should have been grateful for the chance he was being offered. Hogwarts Records had not only listened to his bands demo, and liked it but they'd put them into the hands of Remus Lupin, one of the best producers…ever. He was famous for not only getting the Marauders to the top but as their keyboardist. When the band had broken up he'd gone to work for Albus Dumbledore, CEO of Hogwarts Records.
At least that was what Remus told them anyway. Harry had never been inclined to question the man's word and so was willing to accept it at face value.
The point was that Harry was lucky. They, The Gryffindors, were lucky to get this opportunity to finally crack into the 'biz'. He should have been elated.
And yet he was stretched out on his bed, pen and notebook on hand, with nothing coming out. And when he said nothing he meant…nothing. It was depressing. They needed to have the first single recorded by the end of the week and he couldn't so much as write a new song. If they had any hope of getting it in on time they needed to start recording first thing in the morning. If things continued on this path they'd end up having to go back to one of the songs he'd written before they got signed.
Or, worse still, something Ron wrote.
He shuddered at the thought.
That would be a surefire way to have them dropped before they even managed to achieve anything. Harry sighed and rolled onto his back to stare out the ceiling. He had, with his best friend's help, stuck stars and crescent moons and planets of various size to the ceiling and, when all the lights were gone, they would cast a pale yellow-green glow over the room.
It was around eight o'clock now so the sun was just staring to set. The glow had just begun to start and wouldn't be at its usual glow until later on. He sighed and closed his eyes. He was supposed to be able to do this. It was his calling, his reason for being, that one thing he did better than anything else. Hell, it wasn't like he didn't normally have a wealth of angst-ridden life to derive inspiration from.
His parents had died when he was a baby and his aunt and uncle had been completely useless at the best of times and abusive at the worst, though for the sake of his own mental state he preferred to not think about such things. He'd been taking care of himself since he was old enough to use the microwave and had simply got up and left around the time he was fourteen. He'd encountered his best friend, Ronald Weasley, that very day and he'd thought it was something like fate. He'd just seen the redhead and he'd known there was…something there. A spark, though not in the romantic sense.
If Harry had been one for deep philosophical waxing he'd say something like 'no matter the time, place, or universe he and Ron were destined to be best friends'. But…he wasn't. One for philosophical waxing that was.
At least not now. He had a song he had to write.
It was hot, very hot considering it was only mid-June, and the t-shirt and pajama pants Harry had spent most of the day in slung to his skin with a thin film of sweat. The ceiling fan whirled, soft background noise, and did very little to move the air around in the room or cool Harry off but he found he didn't want to move to attempt to turn it to a higher setting. He reached up, bushing his hair away from his face again and sighed.
This really wasn't going well in the least.
He rolled over again and buried his face into the surprisingly cool pillow. The rest of the bed was warmed by his own body heat and seemed so clinging and suffocating…
He groaned and rolled out of the bed and shuffled towards the living room. Ron and Bill, his ever-present flat mates and band mates, were out at the moment, thinking that being left to his own devices would help him to whip up one of those 'infamous' songs of his.
It. Wasn't. Working.
He walked through the dark living room straight to the large window that faced the street, the only source of light in the room. He crawled onto the window seat then pushed the window open, inviting an unexpected, but greatly appreciated, breeze. He sighed, closing his eyes and welcoming the respite, however brief, from the stifling heat, before checking to make sure the phone was nearby, just in case someone needed him.
He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back, letting one of his legs dangle out of the window and onto the fire escape. Cars hurried past, people heading home from the tragically annoying Wednesday Grind, eager to return to family, friends, and the nearest alcoholic beverage. Harry couldn't say he blamed them.
Fuuuck.
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Harry smiled at the neon green teddy bear and took the hot chocolate it was offering him. Very kind of the bear if he said so himself. It smiled back at him, red eyes glittering in the light of the candyfloss sun. He brought it to his lips to take a drink when the bear unexpectedly began to ring.
He blinked at the bear, which looked quite bewildered, as it rang again. It was a shrill sound that cut right through the world and caused the jellybean stars to fall and the candyfloss to begin to melt. He put his cup onto the blue cloud and reached over to answer the bear. He pulled off the head and
"'Lo?"
"Harry what the bloody hell are you doing?" Ron's voice, angry and accusing, cut through the remains of his dream. Harry sat up abruptly, almost pitching out of the window. Blinding light beat down on him, hot and blistering against his skin.
"What?"
"It's almost noon! Where. The. Bloody. Hell. Are. YOU!"
"Noon?" That explained the whole blinding light thing. He pushed his glasses up, rubbing at his eyes. Noon? What was…oh. Damn. "Shit."
"Yes." Ron wasn't yelling anymore but he sounded less than pleased with him. "Get over here. Now."
"Yes I'm coming. Why didn't you wake me up?"
"Bill and I stayed at Gin's. Here. Now. Don't forget the song." There was a click and then the sound of a dial tone met Harry's ear. Ron must have hung up on him. He sighed, rubbing at his eyes again, then hung up the phone.
Okay. Quick shower, bus to the studio and…song.
Song.
No song.
Oh god. He was so fucked.
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Harry: o-O I'm a moron.
Ron: Yep.
Harry: Don't agree with me….
Bill: But…you are.
Harry:Stuff it.