Déjà vu [Sarah]

School was out and Alvin was celebrating. Not just because he was free from classes until September, but because he'd managed to secure himself a summer job with a Quidditch team. And not just any Quidditch team, but the fucking Falcons, who Vin had always had a great respect for. It was like something out of a dream and Vin was half expecting to wake up and find it was just that - a dream. Or perhaps someone's idea of a sick joke. But no - he had a couple of nights to kill and then he was crashing with one of the team's players, and he was happy to couch surf until then. He'd rather sleep outside than ask Darren for a place to sleep - and now that he was finally 17 he didn't have to pretend to be sleeping under Darren's roof anymore either. He was his own man.

The Hounded Hare - or the Hammered Hare as it was better known to its patrons - was not an upmarket place. It was in a sleazy part of town, tucked away between an abandoned barbers and a betting shop, invisible to muggles eyes and popular with those that wanted something easier than the Cauldron but not quite as dark as anywhere in Knockturn. Neutral and familiar, a place where you could be a recognised 'local' or blend into the background for a drink in solitude. It had fast become Alvin's favourite place for a beer since a friend had introduced him to the place over the Christmas holidays. Walking through the door into the dimly lit bar was like coming home - a feeling that Vin certainly didn't experience often. As he entered, he gave a smirk at the guy sitting near the door. 'Security' here didn't care about the odd ruckus, but if anything got out of hand this guy was a wall of muscle that could easily put an end to a brawl. Vin had thus far managed to stay out of trouble. This was one place he didn't want to end up getting barred from.

He was out with a few guys from school. Various ages and houses and none of them much more than 'mates', which was the way Vin liked it. He didn't need a fucking 'bff', just some guys to have a drink and a laugh with. "First rounds on you then Vin? Workin' man?" one of them joked, turning towards Vin with a grin. "Fuck off, Kenton, you can get your own fuckin' drinks," Vin replied, catching the bartender's eye and signalling for a pint of lager. "Ey up," came the other boy's voice once more and Vin looked over, ready to open his mouth with another retort. But Kenton wasn't looking at Vin, he was looking at the door and as Vin turned to follow the guy's gaze, his stomach twisted and good feeling evaporated. In the door stood a ghost of what felt like a past life. So many memories and emotions flooded over him. He turned slightly to lean against the bar for physical support. Was it too late to duck out the back entrance before he was seen? Yeah, the barkeep had already poured his pint. Fuck.

"Ain't that your ex?" asked another of the guys, this one considerably less sharp than his friends, and his voice was loud enough to be heard by the figure at the door. Vin rolled his eyes. "Yup," he muttered, reaching for his pint and feeling like he could down the thing in one go.

Sarah.

Why did Sarah have to be here?

  Sarah Hirst was in a shit mood. What else was new?

  At this point the blonde wasn't even sure what specifically it was that was bugging her. Something just always felt off, these days. Stagnant. It'd been what - two years now? Two years in the Order and she'd accomplished fuck all with her life. Made her kind of miss the days of Dumbledore's Army. The heat of that false coin that had meant that something was always happening, that there was always a good fight to be fought. But the war was over, now. The Order was winding down, she felt - taking a back seat as the emerging Auror department at the Ministry resumed the spot of the group lawfully chasing down the bad guys. She felt like she was in the pissing Territorial Army, and it wasn't a good feeling. Two years had passed since the dust had settled on the ground of the final battle. But all the memorials and balls and other bullshit celebrations left a bitter taste in the witch's mouth when she thought of how her sister's killer was still walking free. Sure, some people had closure. But she didn't.

  A year after graduating, Sare still felt like a drifter. Ok, so she was settled in a shared flat with Ray now, which couldn't have happened soon enough - whilst it had been nice of Harry to let them crash at HQ until they found a place, there was no way in hell the Grimmauld place was ever going to be anything but creepy. But she was floating between bar-tending jobs, pissing away what money she didn't drop on astronomical London rent costs on alcohol, and there had been the stint where she got mixed up with that Eva girl and she'd dropped even more cash on things more recreational than alcohol. People talked a lot of romantic crap about living some stupid nomadic life in the now, but waking up hungover to fuck and regretting her choices was getting kinda old. And yeah, maybe Ray had tried to broach the topic once or twice of maybe toning it down a little, but Sare wasn't ready to listen.

  Realistically, being an adult was a bit shitter than expected. So when she hit yet another dead end chasing up leads on Kayla and when the Order had yet another uneventful meeting where only half were in attendance because hell, it wasn't like they were at war anymore - Sarah Hirst was entitled to a damn drink on her own in a bar without being disturbed. So that was what she was doing. Planning on nursing a couple pints of bitter - because fuck you and your gender stereotypes, that's why - at the Hammered Hare sulking about how annoyingly shit life could be. It was completely and utterly unfair that upon entering she was assaulted with the sight of someone she completely hadn't expected to see. What the hell was he doing here? School's out, you daft bitch.

  Of course, of bloody course Alvin Hadditch would be at the bar of her pub of choice. Because only life was a big enough slag to turn screwing Sare over into an art form. She considered turning around. Feigning having forgotten something. Getting the hell out of dodge. And shit, she was going to - until she heard a particularly dim-sounding lad announce her presence to the joint. Nice one, knobhead. Now that felt like a damn challenge to her. Naturally, she couldn't slink out now. So putting her best Gryffindor too-bold-for-this-shit face on she strolled over to the bar, came to a stop right next to Vin and placed her order. As the pint glass was put down in front of her, she turned to face the boy with a tight smile.

  "So..." She said, with more confidence than she felt. "Fancy seeing you here."

She headed over to him. Of course she headed over to him. Sarah didn't do subtle. Plus seeing as Dimwit Dennis had announced her presence to the room, it wasn't like she could run and hide. Gryffindors didn't work that way, and Alvin thought that with a hint of pride. Like she was still his to feel proud of. Well if Sarah could deal with this shit face on, then so could he. It wasn't like they'd trampled on each other's hearts or anything. They'd just drifted. Although Vin often thought that a heartbreak and a clean cut would have been easier to deal with. At least then he'd have had a reason to hate her and move on.

"Yeah, you stalkin' me?" he muttered between slugs of his beer, noting that she was on the bitter. There was that pride again. "Do I 'ave to find a new local?"

His friends were staring. Full on, mouth agape, nothing between the fucking ears, staring. Vin turned towards Kenton, fixing him with a stare of his own, until the younger Slytherin got the picture and nudged Dennis, the pair of them heading over to a table on the other side of the bar. Alvin slowly turned back towards Sarah, trying to fix her in the eyes and stop his gaze from meandering over her hair, face and perfect body. He missed that body. Sarah had always had great tits. But more than that... he missed her. Missed the strangely forest-y wafts of her perfume. Missed the slightly smudged eyeliner than suggested she'd slept in her makeup and hadn't cared enough to take it off the next day. Missed the way she could down a pint faster than most blokes he knew. Missed the way she stared at him and he knew that she was seeing right through his bullshit. That she understood the front he put up for the world, because she put one up too, and underneath they were the same.

He forced himself to tear his eyes away. It was over. He couldn't start thinking like that again and he certainly couldn't let his guard down with her anymore. That would be stupid.

  She almost closed her eyes when she heard that familiar Essex-boy twang. Almost. Then she reminded herself that she wasn't a pussy, and mentally shook it off.

  "That's me. Right bunny boiler." She quipped back. For some reason hearing him speak took a little of the wind out of her sails, and she couldn't quite bring herself to feign offence at the clear baiting. A smirk tugged at the side of her mouth as she noted his not-so-subtle silent order for the lads he was with to piss off. They obeyed without complaint. That was the Vin she knew - why use words when a look promised so much more? It was kind of hot, in a sort of effortless dominance way. Wooooooah. Ok. Stop that. The time for thinking of Vin like that was gone. Maybe it was the lack of closure that had her getting all hot and bothered so easily - hell, if any relationship was going to end in some explosive fight it was likely to be theirs, but they'd surprised everyone by just... Fizzling out. Maybe she'd been too wrapped up in her own crusade. Maybe he'd been wrapped up in school.

  She decided to end that train of thought with a swig, making sure to lick away the excess because a beertache was the last thing she needed right now. Sare had to admit, he looked good. Vin had always been a looker, the bugger. It had meant looking at him was always going to be very easy on the eyes, but also that someone with a disposition as jealous as Sare's would have a bloody nightmare with other girls enjoying a look just as much. She wondered if there had been any girls since her. Shit, he was an adolescent boy - was that really even a question? And sure, it wasn't as if Sare had been anything close to a nun in her drunken escapades into adulthood, but it still gave her a hypocritical twist inside to think of him with anybody else. Once, it'd been acceptable to want to stamp mine mine mine all over him.

  Just when their staring was getting a little intense, he broke his gaze. She thanked him, silently. Sure, it was one thing to have the balls to strut over here like she owned the joint and force him to endure her company, but it was another to be this close to him. Bravery she had in spades. Impulse control? Not so much. Time for a subject change, before she either bolted or jumped him.

  "What's new with you, then?" She asked, having to clear her throat slightly. It was summer now, of course - and there was no way he'd be spending it playing happy families with his psycho brother if he had any choice in the matter. Her eyes lingered on the circular scar on his face, and she really did hope that he wasn't anywhere near that prick right now.

He nearly rolled his eyes at her question. Did they really have to do this? Like some school reunion where everyone compares how insignificant their crappy little lives have been. Was she asking him just so that she could rub in the fact she'd moved on and was happy? Was she seeing someone else? Vin reached for his pint and downed the rest of it. He was far too sober to be having this conversation.

"Got a job with the Falcons," he said, the pride obvious in his voice, "Just, y'know, gopherin' not playin' or anythin'," he quickly amended. Maybe with soeone else he might have led them on, or milked his moment, but he always felt a need to be honest with Sarah. No bullshit. She knew how much this pathetic little job would mean to him anyway. Not only was it a way of earning some money and keeping his independence from Darren, but it was potentially a foot in the door. A career in Quidditch was all he'd ever wanted and it was starting to become scarily achievable. He wasn't used to that; things going his way. They usually didn't.

"Not got anythin' else goin' on really," he added, hoping that made it clear that he wasn't seeing anybody. He knew there was no point hoping, but at least if he made it clear that he didn't have any new girls to be rubbing in her face, she might be kind and refrain from talking about other guys to him. She had to have someone. Or several someones.

He wanted to ask how her hunt for her sister's killer was going, but he didn't want to upset her or bring it up out in the middle of a public bar, so he settled on something more vague. "And you? How are.. things... ? Where you living these days anyways?" Shit, that was a bit personal. He let out a slightly nervous chuckle, "Ok, now it's me stalkin'. You don't 'ave to answer that, it's cool."

  There was a moment where she thought he wouldn't answer. But he did, and she felt a surge of pride that really she had no place feeling on his behalf. Vin had never made any secret of his desire to play Quidditch professionally, and getting his name about with a team like the Falcons was really amazing for him. He really did have the skill required. The thought of him and Quidditch together reminded her of the eventful afternoon that they'd been caught behind the greenhouses, Reagan's boyfriend Finn almost red in the face shouting about how Vin was trying to get the Gryffindor strategy out of Sare. Pretty fucking unlikely, unless she had it tucked up her bra and he was really enthusiastic about finding it. Merlin, they'd been such a pair of horny teenagers back then. Bloody hell - listen to her, using back then like some forty year old reflecting on her glory days. Get it together, Hirst.

  "That's boss that, Vin." She said, genuinely meaning it. Well, she wasn't going to be the type to ever genuinely use the word congratulations. That was such a middle class word, wasn't it. Congrats!!!! Simpered with a shit eating grin whilst planning something boring like celebratory cocktails or a tupperware party. Ugh god, she hated normal people.

  Sare wasn't sure what to make of the second half of his answer. Was he being evasive? Was it even her place to pry into that? If there was someone else - surely, sure there had to be - maybe he just didn't feel like discussing his sex life with a girl he'd habitually shagged through his fifth year. Whether he was sparing her feelings or whether it was just awkward as hell was up for interpretation, she supposed. Why the hell was she suddenly so bothered about that, though? Because she'd been coping without him since their breakup without even contemplating how she would feel upon seeing him again - but now he was in front of her looking good and sounding good and ugh, she wondered if he still shuddered when--

  Oh, for fuck's sake. She wasn't even going to finish that thought. You are a massive slag, Sarah Hirst. Wait, shit - he was asking a question himself now. Concentrate.

  It was kind of comical how she couldn't actually think of much to tell him in response to the question. She was hardly going to sit there and express her frustrations about how the Order was stagnating without a war to fight. Hell, what would happen if she even tried to mention the Order? She remembered what Granger did to that Ravenclaw snitch's face uneasily. Yeah, no. Nothing to talk about there.

  "I'm... living with Ray. No surprise there." She answered, after a grin at his unexpected bashfulness. "Not doing an awful lot, actually. Bartending. Bit of DJing." The last part was said with a hint of embarrassment. Was it lame? It felt a bit lame now, saying it to Vin with his future looking all neatly lined up. Sare didn't know what the big picture was her for. Had she ever? Most people decided they wanted to be something by now, right? She mimicked his reaction moments ago, deciding to chug her pint to try and paper over her own sudden insecurity.

Misplaced emotion resurfaced as Sarah praised him with a genuine tone. Of course he hadn't gotten the job with her in mind, but now he felt good, like he'd made her proud. In some ways it hurt. He suddenly had the image in his head of how this revelation could have been. Him telling her proudly as soon as he found out. Them celebrating his success together. He wanted that, still. There was no point denying it. No point lying to himself. He wished they'd never ended. He wished that she'd been there when he'd heard the news. He wished she'd been there in all those moments.

It seemed pretty obvious that she'd be living with Ray and he was glad that she brushed over his embarrassment without drawing attention to it. He also noted that she didn't actually answer the question. That was fair enough. She didn't want him turning up on her doorstep drunk like a lost puppy. He didn't want that either. How fucking pathetic would that be?

"Well that's cool. You get discount booze?" Even if it wasn't officially on the table, if Vin was keeping bar, he'd probably be sneaking himself drinks all the time. Jealousy tugged at his insides though. Bartending and DJing were both jobs where a girl was on display. How many times had he leered over the female bar staff here or in countless other bars across town? The thought of Sarah fulfilling that role, of being there under the penetrating gaze of horny drunk guys... it made him feel sick and... angry. He realised that his fists were clenched. He nodded at the empty glasses on the bar. "Lemme get you another? No bullshit, just a drink," He didn't want her thinking he was trying to manipulate her into owing him something. He just needed more dutch courage and it seemed the nice thing to do to get a round - the generosity that he hadn't afforded his so-called friends.

  Of course, Vin knew what to say to make her grin and shake off her temporary insecurity. Honestly, their combined alcohol tolerance at this point would probably bring a Hungarian Horntail to it's knees. Of course, the free booze was a perk of the job. That said, she wasn't sure how to go about joking on that point - there was no denying that most of that free booze came from punters that were always willing to buy the girl behind the bar with the tits a drink alongside their own. She wasn't too arsed about being objectified when they didn't have a shot in hell 99 percent of the time - free shit was just free shit - but her and Vin weren't at some sort of odd better-as-friends stage where they could joke about that kind of thing. Mentioning that other men frequently had a crack would be a bit of a dick move. Better to brush over that one, then.

  "Yeah, tips are good too when people get wise to it being a way to get faster service." She settled for saying. Maybe Vin didn't even feel possessive anymore, and she was just kidding herself  - but whether or not he did, she'd never been the kind of girl to tease a lad with how available she could be to other people. None of that mind games bullshit had ever been their style. They were always real with each other, because what else was there to be? Previously, being real would have meant admitting how seeing him here unexpectedly was like coming up for air. Err, ok, so she'd rather hex herself than say something that sappy sounding, but she'd definitely have told him straight up how good he was looking. But what was the protocol, now? Was there a line that she wasn't supposed to cross? Ugh, she didn't know.

  His offer threw her, but the reassurance seemed genuine. Just a drink. Right. Right. Right-o. Just a drink.

  "Er-" She cleared her throat again. "Yeah, sure."

  There was a moment then where she genuinely couldn't think of what to say. The words oh shit I missed you and I don't think I realised how much sprung to mind, but it would take a few hours of tequila for anybody to get that out of her without using torture. Ok, c'mon. What the hell could she say? Oh, bollocks. She needed more alcohol. "Your mates are gonna be miffed that you've jibbed them off for me." She said, finally. It had a strange symmetry to the way they'd met all that time ago, the way she'd noticed his - then muggle - gang leering over his shoulder. Then she'd been so sure of herself around him, ready to brawl over nothing. How times had changed.

He knew exactly why tips would be good and where free drinks would come from, but he forced himself not to think on that too much. Sarah's life was Sarah's life. He had no right to be jealous anymore. No right to be possessive over her. But that knowledge didn't make the feeling go away. It surged through his veins like a poison, his muddy brown eyes darkening momentarily until the topic switched. When they'd been together, sometimes he hadn't been able to make up his mind whether he liked the attention she got from other guys - the ego boost it gave him when he knew that she'd chosen him when she could have anyone... and whether he wanted to throttle each and every guy that even glanced in her direction until their face turned purple and their eyes bulged lifelessly out of their sockets. Right now he definitely felt the latter. She wasn't choosing him any more. The ego boost was over.

"They'll get over it," he muttered, raising his hand to catch the bartender's attention and ordering them both another pint. He was sure that he'd get no end of piss-taking once he got back to them, but for now he was thankful that they'd buggered off without making a big deal out of it. He probably owed them for that. Maybe he'd buy them a round after all.

His eyes slipped sideways towards her, his lips quirking slightly. The symmetry of their first meeting wasn't lost on him either. He'd felt more confident then. Mainly because he'd had nothing to lose. If he hadn't impressed her, then she'd just have been some skank in a bar that 'hadn't been worth it anyway'. He hadn't been expecting a relationship. He doubted Sarah had either. "We should have a couple more then beat each other shitless, for old times sake," he said finally, joking to break the awkward silence.

  When Vin turned to her with that familiar half grin, Sare didn't know if she wanted to punch him for making her feel like a pansy or herself for feeling that way at all. It just made her chest feel achey in an alien sort of way when she thought about all the times she'd caught that smile mid-conversation. She'd seen it the first time they met, and the way it spread across his face slowly with appreciation when she'd launched herself at him without a thought. She'd seen it again when he'd grabbed her unawares by the greenhouses, and she'd instinctively gone to deck him. It was the same grin plastered over his face when they'd blown off the victory ball to sit on the rooftops of Hogwarts together. It made her feel like shit to think that she'd let herself forget the things that smile did to her enough to think she was ok with them breaking up. When the hell had Sarah Hirst ever been the kind of witch to give up without a fight? Why hadn't she put one up?

  "Well, I don't want to have to end your career before it's even started." She joked after a moment, consciously pulling herself together. The faint sense of embarrassment about her cocky behaviour on that day helped. Bloody hell, she'd even spat in his face. In retrospect, if it had been anybody he didn't want to bang spitting in his face he'd almost definitely have put them through a window. Cocky 17 year old Sare hadn't had a clue what the hell she was getting messed up in when she tried to rugby tackle Vin Hadditch in a muggle bar. As shit as she felt right now at 19 that it had come to an end, she was nothing but glad that her younger self had been so brash with him. She'd been damn sure that ever having a boyfriend was entirely out of the question for her - but lo and behold, in her final year of school a foul mouthed Slytherin had pinned her against a brick wall and changed everything.

  But nostalgia and missing him aside... Sare wasn't in the same position she'd been a year ago. Her responsibilities had shifted when Jane Lennon sat her and Reagan down in a bar towards the end of second year and told them about the Order of the Phoenix - and that she wanted them to join. The secrecy that went along with Order business was a given - and how would Vin have ever taken to an entire portion of Sare's life simply being secret? Hell, as time went on the blonde was edging into more and more solo work in the chase for leads on Kayla's killer; even Reagan didn't know the extent Sare was willing to go to, and for good reason. She'd seen the scared look on Ray's face the last time she'd talked of tracking down the death eater responsible - because old photographs of the Order's membership told a grim story when questions were asked about those no longer there - skilled, amazing wizards that could put up one hell of a fight meeting more than their match in a run in with the wrong death eater. Shit, the Longbottoms had been damn good aurors, and now they lived on the quack ward in St. Mungo's. The thought of getting Vin involved in a life with that much potential danger turned her stomach.

  That said... Others did it. She thought about Jane, member of the Order and trainee auror with her own Hadditch to care about. Merlin, this moral bullshit made living life so difficult. What was the right thing to do here? What she'd already done? Because if that was the case, then why did Sare feel like the second she walked out of this bar that she'd feel a little less whole than she did right now sat here? Too many questions and not enough answers rattled around inside her head. She wondered if Vin was experiencing the same turmoil at all, or if this really was as simple as a drink for him.

He chuckled as she joked about ending his career. "Yeah right sweetheart," he replied, the word rolling off of his tongue without much thought, "like you'd land anything." Although honestly, she probably would. In a physical fight, Sarah was definitely likely to get a few shots in... it was one of the thing that attracted him to her in the first place. One of the many, many things. It wasn't like she'd ceased being all those thing because they'd gone their separate ways. She was still as hot and sharp and witty and fierce as ever before. Maybe even more so. He finished his second pint quickly, starting to feel a little better with the alcohol rushing to his head. For him it was a familiar safety blanket of sorts.

And then she was just staring at him. But not a blank stare, no, but a thinking stare. He could practically see the cogs whirring behind her green eyes. It made him uneasy. Anyone thinking so obviously in front of him made him uneasy, it was something that Darren did, and Alvin always felt like it was a ticking bomb or the calm before the storm. But with Sarah there was another reason for his unease. Sarah didn't do this. She was impulsive and loud. She spoke what she thought. Often she spoke what she though too much. He didn't understand this endless silence. What the hell was she thinking? Was she wishing she'd never come here tonight? Was she wishing she'd turned around and left as soon as she'd seen him? Was she glad they were no longer together?

Or maybe she was thinking the same as him. Wondering why they ever let each other go. Missing him, as he missed her. Wishing that they could take back those months apart... never let it end. Or even thinking that they could pick up where they left off? Was there a chance that Sarah wanted him? Was it stupid wishful thinking on his part to even consider that he had a chance in hell?

Now he was doing the thinking, and it really wasn't his thing, just as much as it wasn't Sarah's. His eyes drifted down from her eyes to her lips, still moistened by her drink, tainted with a little lipstick, perfect as ever.

The next thing he knew he was kissing her. He wasn't even sure how it happened, but his lips were pressed firmly against hers, his hand on her waist, holding her insistently, his eyes shut tight because he couldn't bear to see her reaction.

He was sure that he was going to get pushed back, that she'd tell him to fuck off, that she'd insist she never wanted to see him again. But for the moment, he could feel the soft skin of her lips, feel her breath, feel her heartbeat, feel her warmth... and at least if it all ended tonight, for good, he'd have had this one, final kiss.

  He called her sweetheart, and the casual way that it slipped out gave her a flash of feeling. Oh, Sarah Hirst had never been anybody's sweetheart, but the way Vin said it made her swallow some nameless emotion that she hadn't been expecting. Sure, he said it in jest - poking fun at fighting skills that they both knew she had - but the returning quip she had already been preparing died on her lips. It was as if she could hear the cogs in her brain turning, overthinking, overanalysing. Godric, she'd never been one of those wet lettuce types to agonise in the oh, but what did he mean? fashion, but here she was taking a two syllable word and turning it over and over again in her mind like some sort of suspect currency that she was trying to find the flaw in.

  Without realising she was staring at him, grey-green eyes searching deep brown as if there was a way to pluck the thoughts from his head so that she could finally stop wondering what the hell was going on in there. They didn't do silences; they were too loud, impulsive and passionate. There had always, always been some sound between them - laughter, groans, banter spat back and forth without missing a beat in a fast-paced choreography impossible to understand from the outside. They were two sides of the same coin, the same rough edges and hair-trigger temperament with a raw need to act on instinct before thought ever factored into the equation. That made this silence all the more disconcerting, making tension coil in Sarah's stomach like a horse rearing back; something was going to happen, something had to happen-

  Then his mouth was on hers, and the cogs that had been working furiously in her head seized up completely. Her thoughts ground to a halt, and before she could ask what the hell was going on she was kissing him back. She didn't know where she was or what the date was, because when she tasted him she was back at Hogwarts and this was just another stolen moment. Stolen. That's what had happened; time spent with him was stolen, they had been robbed- and by what? For what cause? Her hands were in his hair now, the familiar texture between her fingers overwhelming the wolf-whistles she could hear so faintly that it was as if she could barely hear at all.

When the wolf-whistles registered properly in her mind, it was as if a portkey had hooked her navel and yanked her away. She was back in the present, dumped unceremoniously in the setting of the Hammered Hare. Vin was kissing her, and Sare was kissing back. All the reasons to justify the distance between them crept into her head, insidiously tainting the warmth that was thundering through her veins. She stiffened. This was- What were they- Fuck! The witch forced herself to pull back, and when she made eye contact with him she thought her knees were about a minute from giving out. What just happened? Her eyes searched his again, moving rapidly this time, searching for certainty in him that she was lacking. She took a step back.

  "Vin, I--" The words were coming out before she could formulate them. "I need to--" Sarah Hirst didn't stammer, but what the hell was she supposed to say when she couldn't string a coherent thought together, much less a sentence? "I have to go." She decided on, panic clear in her voice as she backed away. There was train of thought in her head screaming at her to turn around, to not run from her problems because she was supposed to be a lion, but she drowned it out and with a stuttered apology thrown over her shoulder she was striding away and into the street, twisting before he could follow - if he followed - and disappearing with a crack.

She was kissing him back. For a moment, Vin was in a state of bliss. A soft murmur of relief, of joy, of need left his own lips and with his eyes shut they could have been a million miles away from everywhere. He didn't even hear the wolf-whistles. But he felt her tense up under his hands, felt her pull away from him. His eyes snapped open again and she was staring at him with a look of... of what? Of guilt? Of regret? He struggled to read her, but she was pushing him away and he could read that just fine.

She wasn't interested.

He'd known that would happen. He'd just wanted one last kiss... no, who was he kidding? The moment he'd seen her, hope had rekindled deep in his heart. He wanted her back and he'd dared to hope that maybe she felt the same. But she didn't. Her stammered words meant nothing to him and as he watched her practically sprint out of the bar - desperate to get away from him, obviously - and heard the crack of apparition, he just felt... numb. Empty. She was gone. It was really over.

There was laughter, murmurs of sympathy and jeers from the boys behind him, but he didn't react. He barely even heard it. His eyes slowly moved from the empty doorway to the bar in front of him where her glass still sat next to his. He stared for a moment, everything a murky haze, until his gaze settled on the lip of the glass where a faint smudge of red could just be seen. He tugged his lower lip into his mouth, sucking on it, subconsciously searching for her taste... but he could only taste the beer. She really was gone.

His hand lashed out, sending both glasses and their remaining contents to the floor with a crash. His gaze sharpened as he turned, looking for anything close by - something to break, someone to hit, anything that he could destroy to try and shed some of this weight that was suffocating him, crushing him... The nearest boy paled as Vin took a step in his direction, hands up as he began to stutter and edge backwards. Vin's hands curled into fists. His body moved forwards of its own accord. His muscles flexed.

A tall, strong figure stepped into the way, an arm scooped diagonally across his chest and a hand catching his left fist in a firm but not unkind grip. "Hey, hey.. shhh..." came a distant voice. Vin's body bucked against the stronger man's, his formidable figure shaking with the effort it took to hold back his sobs. He didn't cry. Not in front of anyone anyway. That would never, ever, ever happen. "C'mon, Vin, let me help you home..." came the bouncer's steady voice. He tried to shake him off, tried to swing his fist... but Pike was like a stone wall, and eventually the younger man just slumped against him with a nod.

"She's gone," he muttered. "I know kid... but girls are fickle, you never know, eh?" Vin gave another nod, but he didn't believe Pike's words. She was gone, it was over, and there was nothing, absolutely nothing, that he could do.