Boing!

Notes; music is Marilyn Manson, \'Doll Dagga-Buzz Buzz Ziggety Zag\' from the CD \'Golden Age of Grotesque\'. \'Devistete\', the Stripping Charm, is Spanish for \"Take of your clothes\" (imperative, informal conjugation).m Mom MoJo, my girl Megan is, well, Megan. And no, she has no tattos on her (I wouldn\'t know from sight, unfortunately, but I\'m pretty sure she would have told me about it.)

It was a wild night at the Hog\'s Head.
Valentine\'s Day on a Saturday was always a high-traffic event for the bar, and the owners had decided to go as far as the noise ordinances allowed. An escort service, Willa\'s Witches, had been specially contracted for the night. There were at least a dozen of Willa\'s girls all standing around and smiling gently at whatever conversation the dazed men offered, with their ears alert for the clinking of Galleons. Snape knew Willa; he had brewed contraceptive potions for her many times, as they were considered a restricted substance. He didn\'t need the money, but he always enjoyed her visits. She had told him on a previous trip that he would probably be interested in going to the bar that night. \"Who knows?\" She winked brightly, smiling one of her few genuine smiles, \"You might see someone who I know would be glad to see you.\"
Willa was unusual for a pimp, in many ways. She was an Animorphmagus, and liked to change unpredictably, even in the middle of a conversation. One of her favorite appearances was a spinster librarian stereotype with blue polka-dotted collared robes. In midsentence she would change into a blonde transsexual with godawful makeup. Another one of her peccadilloes was the fact her girls didn\'t have to prostitute; many times all they would do is laugh at your jokes and hug you as you cried, making them big sellers on Valentine\'s Day. Or any other day, for that matter. Misery among the socially inept is something that can be forever mined by a pretty face and open arms.
Men vomited great rivers into the special bottomless trashcans set up outside. Severus jerked up his black (de rigeur) robes in disgust as he walked past, even though the trashcans had Funneling Charms set up to catch any extra drops. A sneer twisted his sensuous lips. Who Willa thought he should see was beyond him. He just hoped nobody was trying to set him up with a vampire again. Why everyone thought he was into blood-drinking just because he wore black, had pasty skin, and liked to frighten people... Ok, yeah, but he would never admit it. It would give the masses an air of logicality that he would never deign to bestow.
He swept into the bar and entered chaos.
Music, hard rock and roll, the kind that made people blush if they read the lyrics and had a beat roughly equal to sexual thrusts, pounded from the jukebox. A red-haired, voluptuous witch was dancing on the bar, and the way nearly every man there was watching her hips gyrating Severus would have laid good money she would be well paid tonight. He noticed Hagrid talking to a rather large, tall woman in the corner- he thought she was probably Madam Maxime. A short dark-haired girl who looked like she couldn\'t have been more than sixteen, though Willa never took anyone under twenty, was already skillfully comforting a sobbing man. She would probably get paid more.
Severus\' sneer became more pronounced. Sometimes he wondered why he gave up being a Deatheater... the world had so many useless, base people that would have been cheetah fodder in past centuries it really only made sense to increase the numbers of predators that fed off of humans. A fat, ungainly wizard with unshaved chins wobbling under a weak face ran into the professor\'s back in his haste to get through the door as Severus hesitated.
\"Terribly, terribly sorry.\" The man puffed and then pushed past, not waiting for a reply. The ex-Deatheater had a sudden urge to re-enlist. Instead he ordered a firewhiskey. He was about to participate in the great Irish tradition of drowning one\'s sorrows. A depressant is always the answer to depression, after all.
He fought to maintain his place in front of the bar as the harried bartender poured him the drink, casually glancing up to dan dancing redhead. Her skirts rode up on her perfectly curved ass, exposing his name.
Blood drained from his heart. There was only one woman with red hair who had his name tattooed on her ass. He should know, that\'s not something most people do lightly. Although Megan had always been one to throw caution to the winds... He remembered lifting her head from a puddle of vomit to see her weak but still brilliant smile, whispering \'You should have seen it, Sev, cum and vodka was everywhere...\'
The firewhiskey dropped and shattered as he stared indecorously. A grizzled old man seated on one of the barstools grinned and elbowed Severus goodnaturedly. \"Quite a looker, eh?\" The woman finally turned her head around, but her gemlike blue eyes never rested on Severus. The bartender pushed another glass into his nerveless hands as he tried to telepathically force that gaze to meet his desperate black eyes...
Wait, what was he thinking? She hated him, she had more or less told him that herself. Why was he still waiting for her, after all these years? With a peremptory snarl he inhaled his firewhiskey, slammed the glass down and let the crowd push him back, the scowl returning in full force. He was nearly out of the door again when he felt a small hand on the center of his back, pushing with surprising force.
Severus whipped around to face the small dark-haired witch he had seen giving out paid comfort. She still looked barely older than sixteen, but her fine black eyes were set in a scowl just as venomous as his. \"How dare you.\" Her childlike soprano was stone.
He drew up his robes around his reedlike body. \"How dare I what, you insolent little whore?\"
The insult rolled off her back. \"How dare you run off on her again, you yellow-bellied coward?\" Her sensuous lips thinned in disgust. \"She loved you and you fucked her over. Now get up there and dance, you filthy monkey!\" Severus blinked and looked forbidding. \"DANCE!\" The tiny witch forced him across the crowded room and lifted him physically onto the scratched wooden bar in a show of physical strength he never would have expected.
Megan looked at him in surprise to see a man on her bartop. When he slowly raised his head so that his curtain of black hair slipped from his face, he was gratified to see her mouth open and her eyes widen. Suddenly her lips firmed and she grabbed his hands, spinning him around and continuing to gyrate. \"DANCE, filtfilthy MONKEY, DANCE FOR YOUR SUPPER!\" The dark-haired witch yelled again from the throng.
\"All the goose-step girlies with the cursive faces,
We know it\'s all braille beneath the skirts,
I\'m a bulletproof bizzop
And swing hell
I don\'t really care what gentlemen prefer\" howled from the jukebox as Megan\'s red hair swung around his neck, guiding him in the steps of a dance guaranteed to make femine anatomy jiggle enticingly. It seemed to involve a lot of bobbing up and down. Before he knew it he was dancing confidently, and far too many of the women in the bar were hooting in appreciation.
\"Desvistete!\" An anonymous female voice called out. He felt warm air on his back as the charm whisked off his black cape. Others called out until he was stripped down to only his boxers and a black (duh) wifebeater. Megan\'s hands suddenly seemed to be everywhere, fingers slipping under what small clothes he had. The firewhiskey had gone straight to his head, making it all appear quite logical and desirable. Another glass was presented to him from a grinning Lupin, now on the childlike witch\'s arm.
Hot breath whispered on his neck. \"Come here often, Sev?\"
He grabbed her hips roughly and set them against his own. \"Never. Willa told me to come tonight...\" Her eyes were the same, he thought muzzily, the same fierce sunshine as ever.... His hands began to roam too, over her curves and, gaining bravery, into some of them.
How they ended up in the alley was beyond him. His consciousness started going in and out after the third firewhiskey. Or was it the fourth? He remembered waving cheerily to Lupin as the man sobbed out his broken heart to the dark-haired witch, whose name he never caught; dancing on the bar several times; getting mauled by another drunk witch, who would probably bear the scars of Megan\'s nails for the rest of her life; and that sweet dancing, the cleaving of t two two bodies, on the bar and later in the alley...
Some thoughtful bartender, reflecting on the usual uses of alleys behind bars, had put several old couches out several decades ago. The couches had Cushioning Charms built into them, but occasionally the charms backfired and produced oscillating movements that proved just as useful. Severus tried to give the paisley print one a very good workout that night, but failed miserably. Megan finally shrugged him off, and out of pity, took him home.

Pain.
Ach, more pain. Why was there so much agony in this world? Did nobody have any respect for poor drunks? \"Silly bastard, drink this.\" Megan\'s sweet voice, now testy, grated in his ears as warm pulpy Hangover potion trickled into his mouth. He licked desperately, feeling the pain subside, and chanced a squint at the outside world.
He saw Megan, sitting nearly on his chest, in a simple flat. There were strange trippy velvet posters, and a few descriptive pictures from the Kama Sutra on the magenta walls- magenta? What kind of sick wierdo paints their walls magenta and then plasters it with stoner frog velvet posters? He wondered dazedly. With a flick of her fingers, Megan dismissed the strange decorating scheme; \"Blame MoJo; I smiled and nodded.\" She sniffed in disdain. \"Toothbrush, dude. Use one?\"
Lupin passed in front of the door, clad in nothing more than Spongebob Squarepants silk boxers. He smiled and waved good-naturedly. Severus snarled. \"Hey, asshole, be nice.\" Megan slapped his white arm. He looked injured. \"What? Oh...\" She rolled her eyes. \"He just crashes here most nights. Some sort of \'soulmate\' to whatever sick twisted shit my roomie believes in.\" The young-seeming witch walked past and inclined her head in interest. \"It is sick shit!\" Megan protested. Her hand came up and she erected her first finger.
\"Sevvie no go boing.\" Severus blushed in shame. She smiled, abnormally calm, \"But Remus go boing!\" smiled wider and kept walking.
\"He\'s ten years older than you!\" Megan called down the hall. A contemptuous snort was the only reply.
Megan checked the wall clock- that unsurpisingly, was in the shape of a fluorescent bong- and smiled satisfiedly. Getting up to close the door, which Severus saw had a poster extolling Sublime on its back side, she returned to the bed, wasting to time in sitting on his legs and taking off his shirt. \"That hangover potion should have worked completely by now.\" She said by way of explanation. Severus realized his headache was all gone. \"And-\" she continued to undress him- \"That should mean the alcohol in your system should be all neutralized, meaning- glormph- ahhhh-\" suddenly Severus lost the ability to think objectively.

Megan stuck her head into the tiny kitchen where her roommate and Lupin were eating breakfast. With a huge grin on her face, she poked up her index finger and said triumphantly, \"Sevvie go boing many many times!\"
Lupin shared a look of cool amusement with MoJo before collapsing in laughter. \"I heard that!\" Came the imperious, silken voice from down the hall.
Which of course, only made him laugh more.