From where she loitered at the stage's edge, the roar and roll of cheers and applause seemed to swell from a field of fireflies, which Tilly knew were actually Lumos'ed wands, exploding party favors, and cameras. Sure enough, with every other flash, tufts of purple smoke drifted up toward the stage and dissolved, signaling an impressive amount of press. There were also charmed, lazy bubbles, sweet and smoky scents, and that peculiar but satisfying mix of elation and well-earned dehydration.

Matilda's arms were sore in a good way. She'd been dancing in place, waving her hands and hair, mouthing the words and attempting to hit the less impossible notes as Trina sang them with an intoxicating aura. Paired with Dennis' own vocals and brilliant guitar arrangements, and the legend that was the Weird Sisters, it was almost questionable whether any other summer act would be able to match the excitement.

Perching her elbows on the magical speaker behind her, Tilly leaned against it, immune to the soft whistles and drones still echoing from the instruments. She might have gone deaf by now, by the tender age of twenty-four, but she hadn't, and so there was nothing to worry about. The great blast from the speakers was almost ironically calming at times, and the evening's energetic show had taken her mind off of recent (or not so recent) events. It didn't matter, here, that she couldn't use magic.

She grinned and gave nods of recognition or admiration to each of the musicians and crew members who slipped by her and disappeared behind the stage. She'd spent a good number of hours with many of the stage managers and technical wizards, but had not been able to see the band until they'd actually taken stage. As brilliant a show as it had been, she was looking forward to seeing Dennis. And then, of course, there was the promising vocalist who happened to share her own name: Trina Quinn was a (rather famous) cousin whom Tilly had never met. It was funny, how large and small the world was at once.

It was the cliche build before the end.  Trina and Gwendlyn, the Wyrd Sister's lead singer, had finished the last verse of Rock My Broom almost a full five minutes ago but Dennis and the Wyrd Sister's bassist had, much to their manager's obvious chagrin, had launched into a long-winded improv jam.  Their tempo had picked up, the key had shifted up by a minor third (who had prompted it, Dennis wasn't sure) and they were in a full-fledged improv rift.  The climax.  The show's crescendo and then, after a building run up the scale, they ended it, abruptly. 

The guitar's strings were still vibrating against the neck of his guitar when Dennis clapped his hand into the bassists with a crude shake.  "We're gonna grab a few bottles and meet up at Laddy's.  It's up near the north end of the village," the bassist was calling to the Three Owl Standard band members over the din of the cheers and excited murmurs of the crowd. 

"Got it.  See you there, man," Dennis called, horsely, after the fellow before slinging his guitar over his back.  The stage hands could deal with packing up the rest of it.  After a congratulatory thumbs-up to the rest of his crew (his voice was officially refusing to be thrown above the level of the crowd again until something cold and smooth was sent down the throat), he moved off towards the steps off the stage. 

Once at the bottom of the stairs, he rotated on the spot, glancing around for his guitar case.  He found it, lying near a quite familiar face.  "Hey there," he said as he stepped towards Tilly, giving her a quick hug before leaning over to flip open the guitar case.  "Good show!" he declared, unaware that (or perhaps not bothering to remember in the after show rush) that the cousins had not, yet, been introduced.  "A little robust but who cares, right?" 

Tilly smiled, amused at his apparent momentary search for something or someone. She traced his gaze to the guitar case near her, and looked up again with bright eyes and a silent, pleasant understanding. The bit of Dennis' soul that had six strings and a long neck needed a rest. It was by pure luck that Tilly had discovered the prime seat-- a bit of concrete and those brilliant, Merlin-forsaken speakers blaring the evening's delicious setlist-- and also by luck that one of her closest friends had left his guitar case there. Not that Tilly wouldn't have bumped into him at some point that evening, whether by chance, or because she'd hunted him down for a hug and updates on the life of Dennis Creevey.

She returned his hug, feeling the heat of the show's energy still clinging to him, and nodded in agreement even as he focused on putting the instrument to rest. "Brilliant," she said. "I had to battle a half dozen groupies before the finale. They wanted to take my spot." She patted the speaker and raised a brow. "And the last five minutes... that was exactly what I needed." Grinning, she waited for Dennis to straighten up. She wanted to study him properly.

"How are things? The tour? Are you ready to keel over yet?" She lifted her arms a bit and let them flop again to her sides like a rag doll, miming such a scenario. It had been ages since they'd seen each other-- several good months at least-- and Tilly wanted to know everything. It was always wonderful, catching up with friends. In the music world especially, people could flutter in and out of each other's lives, but they usually found each other again in the end. Or, at least, Tilly found the ones who mattered. She'd known Dennis since she was sixteen and had no plans to let him escape a jovial interrogation. "I hope you're taking care of yourself." Her voice was a little softer, less humorous now, as she continued to appraise his face. But she bounced right back with an amused grin. "When you get back to London for a while, I'll owe you a nice home-cooked takeaway."

She leaned back against the speaker, which had finally stopped humming. "So... did your singer make a dash for it, or...?" She asked casually, inclining her head a bit toward the stage.

Adrenaline was pumping through Trina Quinn’s veins.  She had been wrocking out all night and just having so much fun.  Performing is what she loved most, and gave her all when doing so.  She was also thrilled at having the opportunity to sing with one of her all time favorite bands as well.  The Wyrd Sisters and Three Owl Standard had totally torn up the stage that night at the Woodcroft Festival. It was a night that Trina was not likely to forget in a while.

Trina had been dancing around the stage as Dennis and the Wyrd Sister’s bassist jammed on. By the time they ended, she was almost all out of breath.  They all did their “curtain call” and Trina had been talking to Gwendlyn behind the stage.  Her voice was hoarse, and her ears were still ringing from the sound the amps had been producing.

Ever since going on tour with Three Owl Standard as their new lead singer, Trina had learned ways to save her vocals for long periods of time.  Though now that they had come to the end of their touring, Trina felt she could go a little crazy for the fans.  They had, after all, accepted her into the band as well as the members who allowed her in.

Now, Trina was heading over to the end of the stage to see if Dennis was there. She’d heard something about the band heading out to one of the bars in town.

"So... did your singer make a dash for it, or...?"

“Nope! She’s right here! Who’s asking?” Trina asked as she spotted Dennis and another girl. She looked somewhat familiar, but Trina decided to introduce herself anyways. “Trina Quinn, at your service.”

Trina gave a smile to the other woman, guessing she knew Dennis from somewhere. Trina never minded meeting new people, especially if they were friends of her bandmates. 

As he laid the guitar down in the felt-lined guitar case, he fished a small lemon bonbon from the pocket of the case.  He popped the lemon candy in his mouth as he straightened up again, feeling the almost instant relief as the candy increased his salivation.  "Ah, well, I'm sure they were no match for you." Dennis grinned at his friend.  "The groupies seem to move in packs but they're easily overpowered, I find.  Yeah, no clue who was leading that rift." 

Tilly's features got that all too familiar studiousness as she looked at him.  He opted to pointedly ignore the obvious search for something to fuss and worry about and turned to her question.  "We've been having a blast.  It has been a long tour but we're getting through.  There've been some good shows - Dublin was a fantastic show!"  He'd been close friends with Tilly for years.  In the early days of the Three Owl Standard, there'd been a lot of time to sit around and keep up to date on each other's lives.  But, as popularity grew for the band, Dennis found himself more and more on the go.  What time wasn't spent on the stage or in the studio was spent hanging out with groupies, partying with other bands or generally goofing off.  "You know I always do," Dennis said, dismissively. 

As Tilly asked about their newest addition to the band, Dennis looked over his shoulder, looking for their lead singer.  "Like she said, she's right here," Dennis offered, waving Trina over towards them.  As Trina had covered her side of the introductions, Dennis introduced Tilly.  "This is Matilda Quinn.  Not just a coincidence I hear, either.  But, she works for Reducto Records.  They did a lot to help promote Three Owl in the early days - we owe them a lot.  Tilly's a good friend and has been a long time rabid fan."

"You have an extra?" She asked, nodding toward his pocket. Anything remotely sugary and nutritionless sounded perfect right now. And always. Tilly laughed and shook her head, almost nostalgically, thinking of the hoards of groupies she'd met at various shows and in various situations over the past several years of her life. Three Owl Standard had worked up quite a respectable number, she had to admit. Or perhaps impressive was a better description. "That's a relief to hear... I'd hate to see my best friend carried off on a palanquin with fountains of firewhiskey and sacrificial knickers."

He evaded her silent scrutiny for the moment, and she knew it, but she couldn't not be genuinely excited to hear about the tour. If she hadn't been working in the record shop, which had more or less become her second home, or her true home, Tilly would have loved to go on tour, give them a hand with whatever they needed. The music, the crowd, the authenticity of it-- it was a dying practice, and a breathing one at the same time. And then, of course, there was the travel... and the partying. Too much partying in Dennis' case, maybe, but she couldn't be sure. She hadn't seen him in months. "Dublin," she repeated wistfully. Her father's family was Irish, and Dublin had always been a great city to visit, even when she didn't spend too much time around the Quinns. She leaned toward him, bumping his arm. "You didn't invite me!" She was kidding, of course. She could look up the tour schedule herself, and knew half of her favorite bands' tour dates by heart. It was much more instinctive than memorizing, say, types of flesh-eating plants. "The next show there, let me know, and I'll have one of the kids manage for the night. I feel so tame now," she laughed. It was far from true; she still had plenty of fun.

And yet... there was still the worry in the back of her mind that Dennis had too much of it. She didn't buy his response, and stared at him pointedly, but there was no time to continue the touchy subject, because the person she'd inquired after entered the scene. Turning at the sound of the voice, which was somehow discernable as the same one which spouted the too-familiar songs, Tilly was a whirl of hair and smiles. Her eyes took in the woman, searching her face for anything distinctly Quinn-like, though she'd already seen her photograph dozens of times in magazines and on posters. She glanced back to Dennis for a moment as he introduced her, and then settled on Trina once more. "Like he said, I'm a massive fan-- or rabid, to quote the lyricist." She shot a wink at her friend and floated forward, holding out a hand to the attractive woman. "This is slightly, wonderfully awkward, but your dad and mine are brothers... I hope you don't mind that I've stalked the family tree a bit. Not in the creepy way."

Trina smiled as the other girl looked at her. She could definitely tell the girl was a fan by the excitement on her face.  It must be neat for her to be good friends with a member of her favorite band.  Dennis had introduced her as Matilda Quinn, who works for Reducto Records.  That was probably why she’d seemed familiar, as Trina did enjoy going to Reducto.  But of course, Trina couldn’t help but question the last name.

"This is slightly, wonderfully awkward, but your dad and mine are brothers... I hope you don't mind that I've stalked the family tree a bit. Not in the creepy way."

Slightly shocked, Trina’s eyebrows raised as Tilly realized there was a connection.  She’d never thought much about looking up cousins, but now that she realized she did have at least one, she was excited.  This also meant that she had the possibility of a new good friend.  And Tilly seemed like a fun person.

“No way! That’s so neat! I’ve never been much into looking at the family tree, and dad never talked about his side of the family much.” Trina, overcome by excitement, pulled Tilly into a hug for a moment before releasing her. “It’s kind of a relief to know I do have more family out there.  I’d always wanted a sister, so having a cousin like you should be fun as well!”

Trina laughed at how Matilda was afraid of seeming creepy, and now Trina was probably sounding strange.  Tonight was turning out to be quite a good night.  First of course being able to perform with the Wyrd Sisters, and now meeting a long lost cousin! Well, she didn’t know if Tilly could be considered ‘long-lost’, but it certainly was exciting!

“How long have you known this, Dennis?” Trina put a hand on his shoulder, then laughed. “You should have told me sooner if you did! But oh well, I’m still so excited! We should definitely try to hang out sometime! Especially since the tour is basically over for a little. Well, unless we’ve added more dates, which I don’t mind.”

If the normal after-show adrenaline wasn’t enough, Trina was even more energetic from the new discovery.  She couldn’t help but be all smiles.

Nodding, Dennis leaned over to retrieve another lemon candy from the small stash in his guitar case.  But, half way through closing the clasps on the guitar case, he paused and looked dubiously up at Tilly.  Of course, he knew she was joking; but he couldn't resist glaring at her in an obviously mock expression of horrified disbelief, Dennis looked around.  He had to admit, he liked the sounds of this group of rabid fans.  "You'd hate ... there were fountains firewhiskey and sacrificial knickers?  Which way did you send them scattering - maybe I can catch up." 

"Well, if you insist on chasing off fans like that, I won't be inviting you to any tours." Dennis smirked as he handed the lemon candy to her.  The thought had occurred to Dennis on a few occasions to invite Tilly on tour with them but something always seemed to come up - Dennis' assuming she was too busy; worrying that things would be strange enough with a new female addition to the band; figuring they didn't have the room.  Usually, those worries were fueled by a general uncertainty of how awkward having Tilly on tour might be or fear of just how much fodder for worrying seeing them on tour would give her.  But, as usual, Dennis managed to avoid any serious soul searching and conversation by a simple, frivolous bit of humor.  "If you promise to only scare off the really old or too young fans then, maybe, we'll let you know about the next one."

Assuming the conversation had turned to the less interesting feminine wishy-washy 'do you know him and do we like the same honey in our tea' of girlfriends-turned-family-members catching up, Dennis turned back to putting his gear in order.  He'd largely faded out the two's conversation when he felt Trina's hand on his shoulder and looked up, slightly confused.  Quickly, his mind worked through what it remembered of the last few statements made by the two women before, finally, settling on Trina's jovial and light-hearted accusation.  He shrugged.  "I don't know.  I knew you both were Quinns," obviously.  "But, I didn't really know how.  Or that you didn't know."  Somehow, during the late night post-show drinking sessions, inquiring about other's family trees wasn't high on his list of priorities.  It was rarely any higher during the following morning's hang over. 

"Tour dates?" he replied, blankly.  Vaguely, he remembered that this show was a bit of a culmination of their last whirlwind tour.  But, Trina must have figured out by now that Dennis rarely kept track of what was planned one or two days in the future - and beyond two days was almost a complete loss.  As far as Dennis could figure, that's what they had a manager for - to send Dennis pesky owls that pecked him awake to remind him they had a gig in however many hours.  "Yeah, I don't know.  That sounds right."  With luck, he wouldn't sound quite as clueless as he felt.

“I used a Banishing Charm,” she joked, grinning. “But, come on now, can’t you spare a few minutes for an old friend? You still have the other six nights this week to enjoy the food of the gods…” In the forms of liquid and undergarments, possibly.

Popping the candy into her mouth, she laughed silently. “How old is too old? Like… my mum’s age?” She tilted her head a little, studying him again—but this time it was with a playful air, and not a subtly worried one. She’d missed him, she’d missed the banter. There was a lot to catch up on, but surely it could wait until they were done joking around. Tilly knew they could talk about anything light for hours, though, ad never grow bored. “Actually, the better question is how youn—”

With her attention on Trina, whose smile seemed as bright as any genuine Quinn smile Tilly had seen (and sometimes it did take a while to poke a smile out of a few who needn’t be named), she forgot about the potentially dangerous (but ultimately also hilarious) question she’d been about toss at her friend.

“My dad’s sort of a separatist, too,” she laughed. “Maybe we all are… it’s what makes us Quinns.” To get philosophical about it. Somehow, that seemed the least appropriate route backstage at a rock concert. “But I’ve been trying to track a few down. Or, they’ve found me.” Lukas, and with him Jasper. And then Edward. Whether by way of politics or… unknown extra sons… they’d many estranged and eclectic family members. “Everyone’s musical, so it makes sense. We won’t even need a blood test.” Grinning, she, too, had often thought about having siblings, or, rather, why her parents never had more children. In a way, she’d loved being an only child, but then there had been bouts of loneliness, and wondering whether her squib status had anything to do with it. And Tilly was very much in love with people. A sister would have been brilliant. But there was no use in not loving the idea of a new-old cousin just as much.

Turning back to Dennis, Tilly’s smile pursed, her cheeks bunching. “It’s all of that writing. It’s doing your head in.” Or, wait, was that the drinking?

"So now that I'm family with the band and everything... what are you two up to tonight?"

Trina couldn’t help but continue to smile as she listened to Tilly talk.  Hearing about her adventures looking into the family tree was pretty interesting.  She was also interested to hear about how most Quinns were musical.  Though that could very well be true, especially as Tilly ran a music shop.  But also, this made Trina a bit more interested in finding these other relations.  Funny how finding one long lost cousin made you want to find more.

“Seems like us Quinns stay a little under wraps, since you’ve had to go searching for us.  But funny how I’d never really thought about finding any others.”  Trina thought for a moment about how big the Quinn family might actually be.  Perhaps a big family reunion was in order? That would be fun, wouldn’t it?

"So now that I'm family with the band and everything... what are you two up to tonight?"

Trina let out a laugh at the first part of the sentence.  “Well, I think we’d talked about heading somewhere to get an after show drink. Well, assuming I heard that after having gone slightly deaf after the music was turned down. You should join! It’s always fun when you’ve got a bunch of us crazy musicians around.”

Leaning up against a wall of the backstage area, she remembered why she’d searched for Dennis in the first place.  “That’s right. I was going to ask you if you knew where everyone was headed. I hadn’t caught that. Then perhaps we could all head over?”

"Aw man," Dennis quipped.  Of course, that did beg the question.  Where was this place that all these fans were being banished to?  And how could he get banished there himself.  But, perhaps, sparing a few hours for an old friend wasn't too much to ask.  "I suppose you're right.  As always." 

Dennis pretended to give the question about age range some careful consideration.  Of course, asking such questions ahead of time wasn't something he really did too much of.  Such decisions were made more on a case by case basis.  But, for the sake of argument, avoidance was always the best policy for Dennis.  "Don't ask questions you're not sure your ready for the answer for," he answered, mischievously. 

Dennis hung back as the two women returned to their who's who conversation of the Quinn family tree.  Family reunions were just not a topic - or a concept - that sparked much interest in Dennis anymore.  And, perhaps it brought just a touch of resentment.  Rather than dwelling on the resentment, Dennis let his mind wander as the two women caught up, rolling the lemon candy in his mouth. 

But, then, Tilly was talking to Dennis.  Quickly, Dennis focused his attention back on his old friend and grinned slightly, shrugging his shoulders.  Voicing what Tilly had only thought, Dennis said, "I'm not sure it's the writing.  But, Gwen's bassist said some of them are getting together for a jam at some fellow Laddy's place.  I'm sure someone's bringing drinks."  He said, nodding towards Trina.  Those were, most likely, the drinks she'd heard about.  But, of course, there was bound to be a group going elsewhere, as well.