Mostan�ban a munkanap v�g�re m�r monitor-undorom van, �gy beszereztem egy kis kem�nyfedeles k�nyvet (megint), amibe olyan rond�n �s �sszevissza �rhatok, ahogy csak kedvem tartja. Van benne sok-sok eml�t�sre sem m�lt� dolog - t�rt�netfoszl�nyok, egypercesek, jegyzetek, f�lmondatok -, azt�n n�ha felcsillan benne valami, ami m�gis m�lt� az eml�t�sre. P�ld�ul az al�bbi k�t ny�lfarknyi (angol) sz�sszenet.

A szerepl�k Lucy �s Sirius. Mivel kor�bbi kedvenc random egyperces-alanyomr�l, ifjabb Regulus Blackr�l id�k�zben kider�lt, hogy az ikertestv�r�vel egy�tt sajnos m�gsem l�tezik, k�nytelen voltam megint �ket ny�zni...

Igaz�b�l az�rt osztom meg ezeket, mert ny�lasak, �n meg mindig csak s�t�t meg dr�mai dolgokat �rok. Nehogy m�r Shakespeare-nek k�pzeljen valaki.

Egy�bk�nt fogalmam sincs, hogy a karakterekkel a t�rt�netsorozatom szerint t�nyleg fognak-e t�rt�nni ilyesmik. Nem is ez a l�nyeg. Csak elsz�rakoztam, mert unatkoztam a vonaton/ t�parton/ teraszon/ erd�m�lyen/ egy�b helyeken. Mindig van mit csin�lnom, m�gis sokat unatkozom mostan�ban...

-1-

The vapour was rising in wide spirals. The potion was still bubbling slightly: a faint pink against the greyness of the Scotland morning.

The attendants walked around under the old green pavilion with the awestruck gazes that befit the potioneer, and took the deep breaths that befit the masterpiece brewed. The only one frowning was Sirius Black, never too tired to showcase his general displeasure over the fact that his wife had agreed to take the cathedra as Potions Master for an orientation week at Hogwarts.

"I didn't know you brewed your own perfume," he grunted. "Waste of space, really."

There was a beat - then a fluffy-haired Hufflepuff girl gave a soft "awww" in the back row, and several others were caight grinning.

Attendant Professor Lucy Black, for her part, smiled approvingly at one of her students.

"You were a great help, Miss Keane," she said. "If this was an exam, you'd pass with an O."

"What, for 'best cologne ever'?" said her husband sharply. Then, he perked up like a hound that caught scent. "The heck are you kids laughing at?!"

"You're digging your grave with your own hands, Auror Black," said Lucy sweetly. "Want a shovel?"

-2-

They had asked for a corto, a cup of fine Earl Grey (black as my name, thanks!), and a Belgian chocolate brownie with two forks.

Fifteen minutes later, the corto was drained, the Earl Grey barely touched and the cake plate had transformed into the Battle of the Somme, trenches of vanilla sauce marking the gestures of masculine argumentation.

"I'm just sayin - I'm just sayin', he called you Lucy."

The name was spoken as a curse. Lucy Black took a sip of her tea, and eyed her husband with honest confusion.

"Which is, if I may remind you, my name...?"

"Well it's not bloody okay."

"Would you prefer if he called me Paula, then? Or Primrose? Or Ophelia? Or..."

"No first names! Way too casual!" The man blurted out. "I think it lacks... due respect."

Lucy smiled. "He's an American banker, Siri. You can't have him m'ladying me or it'll ruin business. Y'know, there's this... this accessibility factor Gnarlak taught me about..."

"Well you're not bloody accessible!" Sirius barked. "He should call you Mrs. Black like all the rest, as - I don't know, as a statement of fact."

"...did you just spend an entire morning of brooding on the single fact that you were jealous for no reason?"

"Not jealous, just one with a penchant for precision - and stop fucking laughing at me, woman!"