Ominous
By Angelfirenze
Disclaimer, etc.: Duh. Lyrics and quotes from various sources.
Summary: Whatever happens, happens. But, I have to say now that there will be SPOILERS of varying degrees from both Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince as well as tidbits, etc. from the others. If you still haven't read HbP and plan to at some point, keep FAR, FAR AWAY. Wait to read the rest of this story after that, please. There. If you ignore that glaring warning, in the words of Mrs. Weasley, on your own head be it. Also, part of this chapter is inspired by a certain scene during Buffy the Vampire Slayer's third season, involving Oz and Willow, who remain my second favorite Jossverse pairing (the first being Bangel; that's right, I still ship, even now). Anyway, if you've seen or read about that scene at all, you'll recognize the reference.
Notes: Okay, you guys know how I set up the basic premise for the sequel, involving the X-Files? Well, thanks to a certain group of writers over at the haremxf community at LJ, a large chunk of what I had planned has been blown out of the water. The pilot episode alone of XFVCU (X-Files Violent Crime Unit) is just plain beautiful. It takes all the best parts of my premise and takes them one step further. The only thing is that in their world, CSM is still dead, dead, dead. I don't want that. Why, you ask? I have my reasons. But, anyway, I guess what I'm trying to say is that if you're reading this fic and you're also an X-Phile like myself, then GO, NOW, and read this series. 'Tis brilliant. I'm rather sad because there haven't been any new episodes since 2003, but the ones that are up? (squees humongously) Fuck yeah. Anyway...on with the show.
Oh yeah, one last thing. I think you all might hate me by the end of this story. I'm just saying...
Dedications: To all the writers at haremxf, to Heather, to Jenn, to Beka, and every other writer whose work with this broad, unending universe we've all immensely enjoyed. All the ones at AI know who you are. To all my favorite cops and agents, as well as the magnificent brains behind them.
Inspiration: Um...the fic Prodigy by jmcqk6. The movie Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, which I will finally be seeing sometime this week, hopefully. Journals by Kurt Cobain. The written version of The Butterfly Effect. Livejournal. Um...the movie, Dogma. Probably because of Metatron, who is played by Alan Rickman, who also plays Snape. Not to mention, he also played Marvin the Paranoid Android in THHGttG, which came out in April. ("Because of who you are." "And who am I?" "The girl in the PJs; just serve your purpose!") Snarktastic, isn't he? (gushes) Hm. I've run out of inspiration ideas, which proves once again that I'm not reading enough anymore. It's really started to bother me. Bleargh.
Part XII: I Can't Make it On My Own
You showed me more than just railways
It was your passion, and I learned that well
You gave me more in live than anyone deserves
And forever, I'll keep your bloodline legacy
And you're always on my mind
"Detective, could you tell me what wolfsbane is?" Snape's deep, flat voice carried easily through the dungeon, amplified in Bobby's ears as though Snape were speaking into a tiny microphone like a newscaster would.
Sighing inwardly, Bobby looked up from his notes concerning the various substances he recognized floating around the room. In the rear of the chilled dungeon, he could feel Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Draco's eyes on his back and Alex was watching him from the seat adjacent to his. He was thankful the rest of his family and Harry's friends had decided to sleep in this morning and have a late breakfast. Neville, in particular, seemed inclined to stay as far away from Snape as he could get. Bobby didn't blame him, really.
"Wolfsbane," he said quietly but clearly, a slight frown on his stubble-covered face. "Is a potion that, when brewed properly, enables a werewolf to maintain its human mind once transformed and not become a slave to its instincts, killing and maiming remorselessly as werewolves are wont to do. It is a very recent discovery that enables people afflicted with lycanthropy to maintain healthy family lives and jobs. It does not, however, lessen their sensitivity to silver or the full moon."
Professor Snape paused momentarily before shooting a decidedly annoyed look at Alex, who grinned back unabashedly. It was only their second class with Snape--their first being filled with the sort of note taking that Alex loathed but Bobby hadn't minded one bit; it only added to what he, himself, had already done--and Snape had tried to intimidate Bobby both times, failing on each attempt. Bobby wanted to take this in stride, remembering how he'd had to gain Deakins' confidence and respect back when he'd first joined MCS. Deakins had ultimately let up, eventually becoming more amused than irritated by Bobby's unorthodox investigative methods. He figured that, if necessary, he would do it again. Besides, had Charms after this and that was a class he truly enjoyed. Just the other day, Hermione had shown him the charm used by the D.A. the previous year to alert its members of a coming meeting. He'd mastered it within two tries and was quite gratified by the bright smiles Hermione and Harry had both given him.
On a more depressing note, Harry swore he was going get him on a broomstick; a project Bobby loathed more than anything any of the teachers could have given him. Still, there was an undeniable logic to Harry's resolve: If he could conquer his fear of heights, if he ever met up with Voldemort or the Death Eaters--which, given his lineage, seemed entirely likely--they couldn't use it against him. They had each already vanquished their fears of having their blood drawn, so what was heights? Given his magical abilities, it was also likely that the worst that could happen would be his death, but he faced that every day with both feet on the ground, didn't he? So this couldn't be any--
Bobby grimaced as Alex stomped on his left foot. Professor Snape was glaring at him, now quite annoyed. After a pause, he said, "Twenty points from Gryffindor for your lapse in attention, Detective, now if you could pull your head back onto your shoulders, please set about making this simple potion."
Bobby sighed, but nodded apologetically, something Professor Snape didn't seem to be accustomed to. Frowning, he gestured toward the previously blank board behind him, which was now covered in instructions. On another board, a different set of directions was written out for Harry and Ron, who was retaking his own Potions O.W.L. at his mother's insistence. Hermione and Draco were sitting across the room, having been moved there by Professor Snape to keep Hermione from assisting Harry or Ron. Draco had been moved simply to keep things fair--Alex had scoffed at Snape's inference that he understood what the word 'fair' meant--and was yawning with boredom, doodling absently on a length of parchment with a quill.
Reading the instructions for the potion he was to make--Hair-Color Change potion, which Bobby certainly remembered seeing in the third-year Potions book, as opposed to the first, he prepared his ingredients and began brewing them according to the instructions. Sighing heavily, he skipped forward to near the back of the book until he came to the pages for the potion Snape had set Harry.
Here was a potion for instantaneous pain relief, particularly the kind needed for victims of Cruciatus Curse. Bobby didn't remember that being in the sixth or seventh year curriculum and, by the look on Harry's face, he didn't either, however he drove that out of his mind as he raised his hand.
"Professor Snape," he waited patiently for the Potions master to acknowledge his existence. Once Professor Snape raised his eyebrow in Bobby's direction again, Bobby plowed on. "May I borrow a second cauldron, please? I'd like to attempt the other potion."
He could feel Alex's incredulous eyes on him, hear Ron snickering in the back and imagined he was silently taunting Hermione. The snickering stopped abruptly and Bobby figured with satisfaction that Hermione had threatened him with her wand. That was when Draco chuckled a bit.
Snape was so surprised at Bobby's request that he paid his other students no mind at all. Rising, he made his way over to peer into Bobby's cauldron. "The contents of your cauldron, Detective, should be a very pale green at this stage if you've combined the ingredients correctly. I highly doubt--"
He was looking into Bobby's cauldron now, a blank look having descended onto his face. Next to him, Alex smiled satisfactorily, filling the silence that had suddenly descended. "So, Sev. Now that Bobby's potion is the very pale green you described, can he try the other potion? Or are you going to be a jerk about that, too?"
Harry and Ron both choked back laughs, Ron shoving his fist in this mouth. Snape glared at the two of them and they immediately shut up.
Snape glared at Alex, then, and gave her an extremely sour look, but she continued to smile at him in a falsely sweet fashion. A moment later, Bobby had to hold back a snort as he registered her raised middle finger beneath the table before them.
"Professor," Snape scowled, and Alex chuckled.
"Remember what I said about not wanting to make people think things that aren't true? Well, this is one of those times, Sevvy."
She distinctly heard two more snorts from the back of the room.
Snape scowled as he waved his wand and a cauldron came clanging onto the table, narrowly missing Bobby's other still simmering brew.
"Are you trying to give us all third-degree burns!" Alex yelled, coming up from where she and Bobby had each dived away from the table in case there was a spill. Bobby sighed and straightened his robes.
Snape didn't answer, instead sweeping dramatically back up to his desk and sitting down, a deep frown on his face.
"Now, now," Bobby smiled, leaning down to whisper in her ear. "Play nicely with the other children, Alex."
"You're one of those children, too, ya know. Does that mean I have to play nicely with you?" She grinned back up at him, loving the faint red tinge his cheeks got.
"Not necessarily," he grinned, at the same time wondering what the hell he was doing. Alex said nothing, simply smiling mischievously and gesturing toward the empty cauldron, which set Bobby immediately to work.
At the bottom of the barrel
To great surprise, we found our lives
So intertwined
And when the moon lifts off
Yeah, we're side by side
If this is my valley
My memorial park
Tie me to the last living tree
And shoot your life at me
That evening, on the way to dinner, Bobby stopped suddenly, turning to face Alex and taking several deep breaths.
"Is there something wrong?" Alex asked, watching as Bobby carefully removed his bag and set it on the floor.
"Okay," he said as though steeling himself for something. "Um...I-I'm going to ask you to go out with me. T-to the village this Saturday. You can say no. In fact, I think a large part of me expects it. But y-you asked...was there something wrong? The truth is, I don't know. I mean, there's the sweaty palms and a certain, uncomfortably empty feeling in the region normally occupied by my stomach. Nervousness. Women haven't made me feel nervous in a long time. It's a rather new-feeling...feeling. And now I'm rambling."
He still hadn't looked her in the eye. Part of her wondered if he even knew he was talking aloud. A smile came to her face. "But, the-the point is-is that I'm asking you--my partner--on a date, which is quite against the rules and--and against protocol and a billion other things and this...could end badly and-and I'm not even going to list all the bad things that could happen--"
"Good," Alex said, smirking up at him and feeling said smirk grow into a full-fledged smile as some unconscious part of Bobby realized he had, indeed, been speaking aloud. "Because I was going to say 'yes,' and I didn't want to hear anything that might discourage me."
"And--" He stopped mid-sentence. It was all Alex could do not to start laughing at the surprised expression that fell on his face with all the subtlety of a chunk of concrete. "Yes?"
"Yeah, Bobby. Yes. Please don't play nicely with me." Alex giggled then, at the way his head tilted as though he were trying to solve a riddle in a case. "What?"
"Um...why?"
"If you were going to ask that then why the hell did you ask me out?"
"Because I know why I like you, but I...um…"
"You want to know why I like you."
"Uh, yeah. I'm just curious. I-I mean, you don't have to tell me or anything--" Alex shot him a look.
"Oh please. Yes, I most certainly do. If I don't tell you, you'll never sleep again!"
With that, she began to walk toward the Great Hall. Bobby stared after her before snatching up his bag and hurrying to catch up with her. His much longer legs enabled him to catch up to her more quickly, however it didn't stop her from suppressing laughter at the way he looked while running. He was so adorable. All legs.
"So you're not going to tell me," Bobby surmised, frowning once he was beside her again. "You're going to let me sweat it out."
"Where would the fun be if I didn't?" Alex grinned, settling herself down on their usual bench.
Across the table, Harry, Ron, and Hermione all certainly seemed very involved with each other. They each had secretive grins on their faces. The same ones Ginny and Draco had been wearing for the past week and a half. In fact, Alex remembered--surprise coming to her face--she'd noticed Harry sneaking back to his room from Gryffindor Tower where the other two, and Neville (Holden had continued staying in the apartment, as he hadn't been Sorted yet) had been sleeping at an ungodly hour the night before.
Oh. My. God. She wondered if Bobby realized it or if he had been too busy not sleeping to notice.
"You three enjoy yourselves last night?" She heard her partner ask, his eyes still on the textbook he'd pulled out of his bag, and watched with satisfaction as the three in question froze instantly. Of course he would have.
"Particularly, Mr. I-Broke-Curfew-and-I've-Only-Just-Become-The-New-Quidditch-Captain, who could very well be kicked off the team if he keeps pushing his luck? The same for the Keeper?"
Bobby eyed the shiny new badge pinned to the front of Harry's robes, the letters 'QC' picked out on them with the scarlet and gold Gryffindor emblem. Draco was wearing one like it with the silver and green Slytherin insignia instead.
Harry and Ron, now singled out, blushed deeply as they each dug hastily into bowls of chicken noodle soup. Alex watched, the smirk back on her face, as Ron's ears burned red and Hermione began gnawing on her bottom lip so hard it seemed she would chew a hole in it any second. None of them would look up from the table either.
Dudley, who was still sitting at the Gryffindor table, Holden, and Neville all watched interestedly, while Draco--who was having dinner with Ginny--laughed right out loud.
"Busted!" He smirked, grimacing as Ginny elbowed him in the ribs. "Ow."
"I'm only going to say that I don't want to walk in on any of you wherever you happen to be," Bobby said simply, soliciting surprise from the three in question. "And that Nick, Sara, and I don't want to be going to St. Mungo's for great-nephews and nieces we shouldn't be getting."
All three of them looked at him in shock.
"Tactless," Draco chortled, shaking his head. "But you get the job done, don't you?"
"That's not even the worst thing he's said," Alex agreed, glaring at Harry, Hermione, and Ron in turn. "And he could have jumped up to the teacher's table, amplified his voice, and let everyone in the whole damned town know."
She chuckled again at the horror on their faces. "I'm just saying. And, keep in mind, I won't stop him either."
"We're being careful!" Harry howled, eager to get the spotlight off of him and somewhere else. "We promise!"
"You'd better," Bobby said darkly, finally settling into his beefsteak, slicing it into slivers.
All equally red faced, Harry, Hermione, and Ron all began eating their food, each wearing unhappy looks. Unfortunately, this was when Nick, Sara, and Aaron walked up and sat down around Bobby and Alex, immediately grabbing bowls of food and fixing their plates. Anthony looked up from the roll he was buttering and glanced at Bobby.
"So, did we get things clear about boundaries for the time being?"
"We did," Bobby nodded, inwardly enjoying watching Harry cringe and toss an uneasy look at Aaron who, of course, stared innocently back. "No Potter/Goren-Granger-Weasleys will be making their surprise appearance for quite a while."
"Alright, can we just drop it, please?" Harry burst out, horrified. "Before the bloody paper starts writing about us? I can't imagine you and Alex would like that done to you?"
Now it was Bobby and Alex's turn to blush, which suited Harry just fine.
"About stinking time," Nick muttered, drawing looks from both Bobby and Alex. "You two should've hooked up a long time ago. Hell, I think you're the only woman I've ever seen who warmed up to Bobby after she knew everything. That's dedication."
"Gee, thanks, Nick," Bobby scowled, flicking a chunk of bread at him. Nick dodged the projectile and both glanced up to see if Professor McGonagall had noticed anything, as Bobby had enlightened his older brother about her vindictive streak regarding misbehavior, no matter the source. "It's so nice to know you like me as I am."
"Oh shut up, Bobby, I've always liked you--"
Bobby snorted and Nick scowled. "Look here, you little--" he cut himself short and glanced at Aaron, who Ginny was distracting by making the salt and pepper shakers dance. His shrill giggles echoed up from the other end of the table. In an undertone, Nick continued. "You little shit, just because Dad said all that fucked up stuff about you being girly and shit because you had fucking emotions and knew how to dress doesn't mean I always felt the same way. It made me angry, the way he always talked down to you and said you'd never be a man and shit like that. I did realize I had thoughts of my own eventually; I'd appreciate it if you gave me the benefit of the doubt and stop treating me like those sorry sacks of shit you send to Riker's every day. You're my little brother and I love you, you dick, so shut up."
Nick glared at Bobby, waiting for an answer, their small corner of the world silent. After a moment, Bobby asked, "Is 'shit' your favorite word, Nick?"
"No, actually, it's 'indemnification,'" Nick answered without thinking. Then Bobby began to laugh, prompting Nick to stare at him and marvel. "Oh my God. My little brother is laughing at something I said. And here I thought that was impossible. I haven't made you laugh since you were six months old and someone blowing raspberries on your tummy made giddy with glee. Your sense of humor is far too sophisticated for the likes of me."
"Shut up, Nick; it is not." But Bobby was smiling now, the light back in his eyes. "And like you were that much older. You were five."
"And my sense of humor wasn't shit, so there you go. More proof that I was just a rough draft and you were the finished masterpiece. At least to Mom, anyway. You're her golden boy."
"And you think I have an inferiority complex?"
"I do not; I simply know my place."
"Okay, I think I'm going to hit you--knock some sense into you. You-you don't mind, do you?"
"Oh, sock away. Your aim could use all the help it can get. You see, Harry, that's why Bobby uses words instead of his gun. He can't aim worth a--"
Bobby whipped out his wand, muttered something and a jet of bright blue light hit Nick square in the chest. He looked up and tried to speak, but no audible words came out.
Bobby smiled and waved his wand again, his brother's voice coming back instantly.
"I oughta beat the hell out of you for that," Nick said calmly, as though this were an everyday occurrence.
"I kept telling you to shut up; you didn't listen."
"Oh noes," Anthony said dismissively, going back to his salmon. "So you take my voice away?"
"Seems like the logical solution, Nick."
"Logical, my ass. That was a cheap shot."
"I merely used the resources available to me."
"You cheated, plain and simple."
"It wouldn't be cheating if you could do magic."
"Well, I can't, so--"
"So that's just your tough luck."
"Fuck you," Nick said calmly, taking a swig of pumpkin juice and deciding instantly that he hated it. Swallowing, he drained away the bad taste with apple cider.
"Fuck you, too," Bobby answered flippantly, serving himself a slice of lemon meringue pie.
"You just want the last word," Nick countered, flinging a French fry at Bobby, who dodged it easily.
"So do you, so we're even."
"Both of you shut up," Sara said decisively, glaring at the pair of them.
Both men smiled, prompting her to roll her eyes and once again become involved in the magical theory book Hermione had lent her. Ron laughed, his expression disbelieving.
"Wait," Harry said, clearly confused. "Uncle Nick, aren't you angry at Uncle Bobby?"
Nick shook his head, taking another drink of cider. "Nah. I keep trying to convince Bobby that I think the world of him. He thinks everyone hates him. Particularly me. I've never understood that." After a second's thought, he seemed to rethink his answer. "Well, no. I do, but I sure as hell don't like it. He's a fucking genius, but he thinks he's a piece of--"
"I do not," Bobby protested, scowling deeply.
"Yes you do, but I can't--and don't--blame you for your stubbornness. And I don't hate you, for the four billionth time. I hate him. Whatever Mom says, Harry's right. Dad was a selfish, mean-spirited prick with a chip on his shoulder the size of fucking Alaska. I wish he was here right now so you and Harry could curse him into oblivion or something. Remember when we cleaned out his apartment? How fucking desolate the end of his life was because he was such an asshole? I don't know how Ferdie could stand him; I mean, he's a decent guy hanging out with this miserable old bastard. They were probably too busy playing the ponies to have any real conversation. But here he was, probably regretting the shit he put you through. But it was too late because he was going to die and anyway, he hasn't spoken to you practically since you were eleven. What the hell was he going to say? I'm sorry I was such an arrogant dick? I don't think so. I hate him and those assholes you and Alex work with. We all do. Me and everyone back in the N.Y. and in D.C. would gladly storm the eleventh floor of One Police Plaza on your behalf and kick all their asses. I'm sure Alex would, too."
Alex gave her pork chop a particularly vicious stab, but otherwise said nothing, her face maintaining its impassive mask.
"You're too kind," Bobby said softly, his expression and tone becoming a little distant. "Belligerent, but kind nonetheless."
"Who are they?" Harry asked, thinking of Uncle Bobby's earlier mention of Captain Deakins and becoming deeply annoyed.
"Deakins is the best captain we could ask for, Harry," Bobby said, sensing that thought and feeling compelled to object. "You'll see when you meet him later."
"Well, who, then?" Harry asked, marginally relieved.
"Our coworkers, our fellow detectives," Alex clarified, raising an eyebrow as she looked off in space, clearly remembering something. "Even ADA Carver respects Bobby and they've practically come to blows at times over cases."
"Mr. Carver and I have not 'practically come to blows,'" Bobby denied calmly, his eyes now alight at the amusing thought. "There may have been yelling, some slamming of hands on desktops, walls, or cabinets, definitely my becoming incredibly annoyed with him and his calm-assed voice telling me what he can't do about subpoenas for our cases, but no fighting or anything of the sort."
"Oh, all right, fine. No fighting, though I think you could totally take him. You're much bigger. And I suppose you two do have that love of model cars in common. Half the time I want to schedule a play date for the two of you."
Bobby chuckled, raising an eyebrow at his partner. "Like you can talk. Your whole family is composed of car nuts, yourself included. And I'm not wild about cars so much as the parts that make them. I love taking stuff apart and seeing how it works."
"Yes, well, my point is, even Carver respects you enough to treat you nicely when you two aren't arguing over something. It must be a guy thing. You disagree and five minutes later, you're inviting each other to barbeques."
Bobby shook his head. "I don't barbeque."
"Oh, I'll bet," Alex agreed. "But it's still the same thing. Borelli and MacNamara? They've never liked you and don't bother to hide it, either. And if I hear someone call you 'Defective Detective' one more time--"
"I think you're more upset than I am," Bobby said kindly, moved by her display of displeasure at his mistreatment.
"Probably. No one ever treated me like that in Vice, even though I didn't fit in. I never wanted to go to picnics and birthday parties with the same women who I hung out on street corners with, trying to trap johns. It just...was weird. At MCS, you're the weird one."
"I've told you, I...take a little getting used to. I don't mind. You've said yourself that I can't be described. That people kind of just have to be there. Here. Whatever."
Alex smiled fondly, nodding. She understood perfectly.
Hermione, Ron, and the others except for Draco, who had been absent for that particular conversation, gave him knowing smiles and grins. Bobby didn't notice them.
Alex frowned, sighed and threw up her hands. "I wish you wouldn't defend them, but you know what? Fine. Since you're hellbent about being more civil about this than I am, I give up. Be nonjudgmental if you want to."
Bobby grinned, finishing his steak and taking a swig of his iced tea. "Thank you. I save all my weirdness for you, anyway. Any excess is purely accidental."
Alex laughed, now sufficiently cheered up. "It better be."
The wolves are closing in
There's no room left to make amends
Do you remember when we'd fly that kite so high?
All the time we've wasted, spent fighting, will burn in the fire our regrets all the time we've wasted, spent fighting, it's blood and it's running down the stairs
Freeze the frame between the gunshot and the hole it makes
A spinning bullet waits in the middle
There's no way to stop it, it will surely hit the mark
You can try to understand but I'm giving up
Late that night, Harry found himself in his pajamas, sitting in the living room of the flat with his two uncles, also in their pajamas, asking them about his grandparents and about their childhoods.
"So Uncle Bobby's birthday is the 20 August, 1961 and yours, Uncle Nick, is the 14 January, 1956?"
"Yeah. I was born at home, but Bobby was born in St. Vincent's Hospital. His first picture was done in a bassinet by a professional with real camera. I, on the other hand, got a Polaroid and some pillows."
"Will you shut up?" Bobby snapped, but he was laughing. "You're acting like you were disenfranchised in some way. Just shut up. And I've seen my first photo. It was nothing special."
"Only because you couldn't stop making those horrible faces. I didn't know babies could be born angry, but apparently I was wrong."
Bobby hit him in the head with a throw pillow.
"But I thought being the oldest was cool?" Harry asked, trying to stop laughing long enough to get his breath back. "You got to stay up later and stuff."
"Stay up later for what? So I could watch Dad ignore Mom? So I could watch Mom get frustrated trying to get through his thick skull and convince him that he, in fact, had two sons? That Bobby could hear--and would eventually understand--every assy thing he said? Please. Eventually I just learned to stay in my room. Bobby did that anyway; I should've copied him from the start. I was more outgoing than he was. Still am, but you probably noticed that. Then again, maybe not. He goes on all these dates, after all, with all these gorgeous women who wouldn't have given him the time of day in high school because he was so young."
Harry frowned, then, imagining what Uncle Nick was describing with disturbing ease.
Bobby didn't say anything, simply getting up and going in his bedroom. A moment later, he returned with the magical photo album Harry and Hagrid had given him.
"Harry had Professor Hagrid make this for me," he told Nick quietly. "It's pictures of James, along with his friends, Sirius Black and Remus Lupin. Lily's in here, too. She slapped James across the face once for something he did. There it is," he said, pointing to the picture in question, which Nick watched with relish.
"Ooh, I like her already. Is this Lupin guy anything like Lupin the Third?" Nick asked, examining the pictures with a mystified expression on his face and Bobby snorted, shrugging. Harry, on the other hand, had no idea what the hell they were talking about and told them so.
"Lupin the Third is an old anime show from the eighties," Nick clarified, smirking. "Lupin is a professional thief and has some accomplices, one of whom is a samurai. You can watch it on Adult Swim, which is this late night block of mature programming on Cartoon Network."
"Yeah" Bobby agreed, nodding. "That was a good show--though I like Cold Case better--not to mention the newer stuff they have out, like Cowboy Bebop. Not the Jerry Bruckheimer show, Cold Case. I've only watched one episode of that, on TNT. I mean the anime with the guy who gets turned back into the child version of himself. And, you know, this whole juvenile association with cartoons has only been a recent thing. They were originally created for adults, particularly as advertisements during drive-in movies in the fifties and sixties. Children have only really been encouraged to watch cartoons in the last decade and a half or so. But speaking of samurai, I all of a sudden want to watch The Last Samurai."
"Isn't that maniac Tom Cruise in that one? I swear, if anybody needs to be on meds, it's him. Though I hear he's quite happy being Scientology's worst case scenario."
"Yeah, he is," Bobby said in a melancholy way before perking back up. "But the movie is so good, I completely forgot how much of a psychopath he seems to be in real life. Nathan Algren--no, Algren-san, is my favorite character. Oddly enough. I also liked Higen, Nobutada, and Emperor Meiji."
"I liked Ken Wantanabe's character, the head samurai--"
"The samurai lord, whose name you can't remember. It's Katsumoto, by the way."
At this revelation, Nick made a face. "Oh, I'm sorry; not all of us have photographic memories and remember everything we've ever been told or seen."
"I don't remember everything I've ever been--"
"You speak Japanese, at any rate."
"Not fluently."
"Not yet. Just give it a few more months and you could be a translator for the U.N."
"Why on earth--"
"Or the NYPD. Either one."
"Why would--"
"Because you could. It'd pay more, at any rate."
"Alright, you do realize I don't render a service for a fee, right? I actually enjoy my job quite a lot and just happen to get paid for it. I know that's a foreign concept for you, but--"
"Shut up, you brainy brat."
"Okay, it's midnight, you three," Alex cut in, frowning at the three of them. "If Nick is done interrupting you, Bobby, I'd appreciate it if we all could get some sleep now."
"Nice pajamas, Alex," Nick complimented, snickering at Alex's Wonder Woman PJs. "Know where I can get some?"
"How about up your ass?" Alex retorted, giving him a saccharine smile that made Bobby nearly choke on the decaffeinated tea he'd made for himself and Harry. "That seems to be where you find a lot of things."
Harry coughed on the last of his own tea and grappled to keep the empty mug from falling to the floor. It fell and shattered to pieces. Blushing, he gave his wand a quick flick and muttered, "Reparo," sending the pieces back into their original form. Everyone, it seemed, ignored his slip-up; for which he was grateful.
"You wound me, Alex," Nick pouted, giving her a kicked puppy look. "Whatever could I do--"
"Jump in a lake. Or, better yet, Niagara Falls. Fully clothed. Eat some bird shit and wash it down with uric acid."
"Okay, that's disgusting. Good night Alex, Harry, Nick." Bobby stretched, waving good night to everyone and closing his bedroom door behind him.
"Bobby, your partner hates me," Nick whined as the door shut.
Alex's voice carried through, saying, "I don't hate you--just the ground you walk on."
Chuckling to himself, Bobby climbed into bed and closed his eyes.
Do you believe
In what you see
Motionless wheel
Nothing is real
Wasting my time
In the waiting line
Do you believe in
What you see
A/N: Okay, I'm going to end this chapter right here. Hope everyone's enjoying the start of actual shippiness. Again, I had an idea when I was writing this a couple of days ago that's probably going to make you all hate me. The question will be can I carry it out. In fact, I'd like to ask blucougar57's help on that front. If she wants to help me write all the Voldie scenes, etc. I'd be happy to clue her in on my little Torturing!Bobby idea. That is, if she wants to help...