*That is incorrect. **J.K.R and Warner Bros. own it. ***I don't need money. I have a discman :)
Arty Lane
'Alright.' I said as I managed to free myself. I was crouching near my pillow, holding my reading matter menacingly. 'I have a hardcover book and I'm not afraid to use it.' There was no response to my truly terrifying threat. I saw one of my roommates' face under someone's armpit, so I held her nose until she woke up with much gasping and choking.
'Gah!' She cried, batting away my hand. 'Ginny? What is it? What's wrong?'
'Right.' I replied, quite unimpressed. 'Without telling me, of course, or bothering to wake me up?'
'Well, it was late…'
I rolled my eyes. Julie was not known for her wit. Think charitable thoughts, think charitable thoughts. No such luck. 'Get them out of here.' I told her through gritted teeth. I loved privacy more than anything else in the world. Well, maybe apart from sarcasm.
She got into action, and people started opening bleary eyes and moving into other areas of the house. They all gave me sheepish looks as they walked out the doorway. It could be because I gave them death stares and was mentally adding them to my "People to send chain letters to" list. When the final person disappeared, I had a short shower, mindful of the two other people attempting to live with me, and threw some clothes on. When I came into the kitchen, Julie and Simon were drinking coffee with an expression of utter bliss.
'Coffee.' Simon said and handed me my mug. I accepted it and sat at the counter, breathing in the aroma and warmth. Julie had told the truth: the heating was out and it was fucking cold. My fingers wrapped around the mug and I shivered into my oversized black jumper.
'I have run out of creativity.' I announced to no one in particular. My flatmates did not bat an eyelash. They did not even look up from their own morose contemplations of the black swirliness that is coffee. 'That's it. I'm completely out of ideas. I have no inspiration.' This was, of course, all said in a light and conversational tone. It was no problem, really. I just planned on being an artist for a living.
'Creativity is overrated.' Simon told me in his space-cadet voice. He always seemed a million miles away, which, considering the suspicious looking packet he hides in his underwear draw, does not seem that far fetched.
'Of course you'd say that.' I replied acidly. 'You're a language major.'
He shrugged, not really all that concerned. Julie was more concerned, having barely scraped through her music course. This was mostly due to the fact that she was a little friendlier to the Professor than the Dean would have liked. 'That's awful, Gins.' She told me.
'Don't call me Gins.'
'Don't call me Jules.'
'I don't.' I stuck my tongue out at her.
'Oh.' Shaking her head, she went back to her previous train of thought. 'What you need to do is get out of the apartment.'
I gave her a mean little smile. I wasn't always mean. I was just very cranky at the moment with the lack of sleep and single coffee. 'A splendid idea. I'm broke. You're broke. The only reason we still have this apartment is because I occasionally sell a painting. Which, as you would have gathered if you paid attention, is going to be stopping in the near future due to lack of creativity.'
'Oh.' She frowned. 'That is a problem.'
'I pay the bills too.' Simon protested.
I patted his shoulder. 'I know you do, sweetie. I'm just grumpy.' I let out a heavy sigh as I looked around the apartment. Everything felt stale and stuffy. Julie was right. I did need to get out. 'I think I might go for a walk.'
They nodded in agreement, wrapped up in their own thoughts. I put my untouched coffee down and picked up my coat. It was freezing.
Outside, snow and ice covered the footpath and since most of the people living in the apartment block were either students, too lazy or both, it remained a hazard for pedestrians such as myself. I found myself walking down the street with my hands in my pockets and my eyes on my feet, watching them move past the concrete.
Shops and houses were boarded up from the cold and there were few people on the street. The few people who were insane enough to want to venture out of the relative warmth were rushing by me, not giving me a second glance. I did not give them a second glance either, and the system worked. I bought myself some shockingly bad coffee from a service station after forgetting why I made my own in the first place. The coffee and I walked up to Arty Lane.
Arty Lane is obviously the name I gave it in my wanderings, and it usually supplies me with paper, paintbrushes, paint, graphite, books and other things I need to be a total artistic wanker. The people who worked there lived in the same sort of way I did; bohemian and without giving a shit.
The shops were open and there were people like me moseying along, looking at what was on sale and having short-lived conversations with their friends. I liked watching people, in a non-pervy way that is, and I indulged in my pleasure before moving on to become a part of the crowd.
My favourite art supply store was open, but I really did not need anything new. The owner showed me a new set of brushes that I decided I needed to purchase, and I made a mental note to come back when I next had money. He was a wizard, like many on the street, and we shared secret smiles over the way the Muggles exclaimed about some of the artwork obviously done by magic. I continued on my way.
The bookshops were usually my next stop, but many had closed due to the damp. I thought this was a lie since they would be open every time it rained. Bookshop owners were a lazy bunch and just liked the idea of a sleep in. If I lost my creativity for good, I want to own a bookshop.
One was open, and I had not been inside. I had not even noticed it before, which, considering my passion for observing, came as a shock. I opened the door and heard the familiar twinkle of the bell as I entered. Inside, it held the same smell I was used to smelling in book stores, that lovely almost musty scent of old paper and genius.
The decor was simple and unassuming and there were no chairs in the middle of the floor to catch me unawares. The books lined the walls and shelves and any other surface for that matter. There were many, many books. Most of them were second hand, but there were a few that appeared to be new. I looked around for a few minutes before being approached by the management.
'Professor Lupin?' I asked, raising an eyebrow. I had the distinct feeling I had asked the same question many times before, always in a different and yet somehow memorable way. 'You work in a bookshop now?'
He shrugged. 'Being a werewolf is not very profitable. I do not recommend it. If you do have the misfortune of turning into a werewolf, open a book store. It's less noticeable and people expect that sort of thing from someone who owns a book shop.' I nodded in agreement. It sounded perfectly logical. 'Well, now that I've interrupted your shopping, do you need me to help you find something?'
'A cure for lack of creativity/talent/inspiration?' I asked hopefully.
He gave me a knowing smile. 'Ah.' Lupin placed the books he was carrying down on an almost empty shelf. 'Tea it is.' With his hands now free, he motioned for me to follow him behind a curtain. Apart from feeling like I was going into an alternate dimension or something similar, nothing happened from being on the wrong side of the divider.
'Does tea help?'
'No, but it is delicious.' He tapped the kettle with his wand and poured the hot water into mugs with teabags in them. 'Strong, I imagine?'
I nodded. 'I'm a coffee girl.'
I saw him grin as he hovered over the cups for a few moments. He handed me one with a cow on it and I took a sip. It was very hot and rather nice. 'Thank you.'
'You're welcome.'
We sat in silence, not sure what to say. He was my old Professor, and a family friend. I had not spoken to him in a few years but that was because I had not spoken extensively to many of my family members recently. I liked being able to be independent and to be myself. 'Been in the book store game long?' I asked him eventually.
'A few months. It has its ups and downs.'
I nodded again. 'I'm an artist. I do paintings, drawings… that sort of thing.'
'I write.'
We absorbed this information. Lupin was a writer? Well, it certainly explained a few things. I could see him acting like I was now, feeling lethargic and like a complete and utter waste of space because he could not finish a paragraph. He tapped his mug with his fingertips. 'Writer's block is a bitch.'
I was mildly surprised hearing Lupin swear. He was meant to be the role model your parents approved of. Apparently he was badass at times. If using the word "bitch" could be considered "badass". 'If it is anything like not being able to draw, I imagine it would be.'
Lupin sipped his tea. 'What you need to do is take a friend to a furniture store.' I raised an eyebrow. Furniture stores aren't, as a rule, stores with high levels of creative energy. He continued. 'It worked when I was out of ideas. It might not work for you, but if you're as desperate as you appear…'
I shrugged my shoulders, feeling the heavy coat I had yet to take off. Lupin's store was only mildly warmer than outside and still merited the jacket. 'Well, it's a plan and more than I had.' I drank the rest of my tea, almost burning my tongue in the process. 'I might be off then.'
He nodded. 'Good. Pop by and tell me how it went.'
I placed the cup on his sink. 'Yeah, I'll do that. Thanks for the tea and the suggestion.'
Lupin smiled at me, and I walked through the curtain. There was a couple snuggling up near the travel section, hands around each other's waist and looking deliriously happy. Sometimes I wonder if I would ever be that happy, and then I remember that being that happy doesn't look that good to me or anyone else. They acknowledged my presence and went back to inspecting the titles on the shelf. Such are the people at Arty Lane.
The walk home was cold, and the snow had melted somewhat so it made my shoes damp. I stuffed my hands into my pockets and huddled into my cloak from the biting wind, not afraid to look like I was hiding something. Warmth is far too important to care about appearances. Someone had cleaned up the sidewalk and I felt sorry for that someone because I was willing to bet they had not been paid decently - if at all.
Simon and Julie had left the door unlocked, and when I walked in it was still as cold as when I had walked out. In fact, the only difference was that they were no longer sipping coffee on the counter and had moved to the couch to wear every item of clothes in their wardrobe. They looked like refugees at a jumble sale with the range of colours and styles adorning their bodies.
'Ginny.' Simon said in welcome.
'Simon.' I replied and walked over to the heating. They were too lazy to bother getting someone to fix it, so I was left to do it using magic. Julie knew I was a type of witch. There was something about finding a jar of bat toes in the cupboard she felt was a tad weird. She thought I was into that whole pagan thing. She wasn't too sure on that either, and asked if I was going to be sacrificing a pig any time soon. Her tactfulness knows no bounds.
Neither were looking, but when I inspected the furnance, I decided I'd do things the Muggle way and not get in trouble by simply turning it on again.
'Wow, you're handy.' Julie told me, noticing the improvement in temperature.
'Yeah, I certainly am.' I checked the clock and realised I had only been out for an hour and a half. Life always seemed to trickle by when I wasn't holed up in my room with paintings to complete. Julie was counting the fine hairs on the back of her hand and did not seem to be doing anything exceptionally useful. 'We need to buy a … uh… a coffee table.'
'We have a coffee table.' Julie complained.
'It is a plank of wood across bricks and I did it as a statement of the human condition.' I told her touchily. 'We need a real coffee table, and you're helping me look for one. You were the one to break the last one.'
She went a little red. 'How was I meant to know the maximum weight was fifty kilos?'
'Well, common sense usually pops up when you ask yourself if trying to have sex on a coffee table is a good idea.' I said and began walking out the door. 'I fixed the heating. You're coming.'
Julie followed me out the door with little fuss after that and we found our way to a creepy looking furniture shop with people who smiled like statues and the sort of furniture you'd find at your grandmother's house. We walked around, looking at ugly couches and chicken lamps and being thoroughly disgusted.
'This has to be the worst furniture shop ever.' Julie said, making me grin. 'I mean who in their right mind would want to buy a quilted fridge cover?'
'Simon would but you know what he's like when he's been into the pot.' We chuckled at our flatmate's expense. 'I don't want to touch, let alone buy, anything in this place. Let's see the one around the corner.'
Julie agreed and we exited the shop, much to the disappointment of the flighty staff who had followed us around. Snow was falling and catching on sleeves and hair, looking very poetic as it did. Julie noticed her Doc Martens had an untied shoelace, and went down to tie it up again. My breath caught in my throat as I saw her, balancing on her haunches, trying to fix her shoelace. Her tongue was sticking out of the corner of her mouth, and I told her to stay like that so I could draw her.
'That's not fair, Ginny!' She complained, almost falling onto her backside. 'It's cold and wet and I might fall over.'
'It's a risk I'm willing to take.' I announced and quickly drew the preliminary sketches. I could paint it later, or get her to stand in the same position if need be. Julie was a push over for the most part. 'All right, get up.'
I lent her my hand so she did not need to get her backside wet, and with much exaggerated brushing of snow, she was ok and ready to roll. 'We don't need a coffee table.' I told her as I looked over the sketch.
'But I thought you said our coffee table was a comment on the human condition?'
'It can be both.' I said as I began to walk down the street.
Author's Note: Hi, 'tis Madame Wolf here. No, The B Word isn't frozen again. It just going through some interesting stages involving my friend Jenn (Astrid-the-Oh-So-Mighty). This is going to be a slow, painful journey because I haven't done one of those in while. There don't seem to be any "normal" get together Remus/Ginny fics out there, so here is one. It may be a bit boring, but hey. It's normal. Until the plot bunnies get me. Egads! Thank you Iselin for your work :)