he copped it too

—

Any time Mary was in the mood for a pub, she typically made her way to The Three Broomstix to see Ros for a pint. But the journey to Hogsmeade felt tiring - and The Leaky was right there - so she made her way in for a drink. It was a long day, with an even longer shift, and all she wanted was to decompress a bit before going home. What she had not wanted was to listen to some old, drunk wizard go on about The Red Wedding with no regard to anyone listening.

Thankfully Benji spoke up before she could think of something to say - snapping at strangers, no matter how shit of a day it was, wasn’t a smart move. “I see how you wind up in the infirmary so often,” Mary commented as she slid into the open bar stool next to him, meaning for it to be a teasing statement, even though there was truth in her words. Her fingers played with the condensation from her butterbeer, looking over her shoulder and back to the wizard next to her. “The Prophet should’ve never named it that.” 

-

“My boyish charm and fantastic temperament?” he retorted, raising a brow playfully at his welcome companion. Though it may well ruin her night, Benjy was happy to see Mary-- very rarely did he see her before the trouble found him. Nodding his thanks at the barkeep, he took a tentative sip instead of the usual gulp he might have.

Taking in her words, he bit the inside of his cheek. “Well, the day The Prophet finally handle mass-murders with sensitivity will be a national holiday,” he mused, regarding a paper scornfully. Shifting to eye her closely, Benjy noted the bags under her eyes and guilt began to seep into the cracks the booze didn’t quite fill. “Must have been a rough few days at St Mungos, aye?”

…

Benjy numbered among Marlene’s favourite people to party with, but there was no party atmosphere today - not, she supposed, that there was ever a party atmosphere at the Leaky Cauldron, a place they rarely frequented. She glanced over her shoulder at the people winding Benjy up, a group of thirty-somethings in business suits sharing graphic details they shouldn’t know as if it were some made up story and not real people with lives and futures and families. Marlene felt a surge of anger rise up within her, fresh and raw and real. “No,” She agreed, her voice flat and harsh. “It’s not and I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I have some ket with me y’know. Or we could try get something else, if you don’t fancy it, but the drinks aren’t fucking cutting it anymore.” 

-

“Of course you don’t," he exhaled, “You have at least a half-functioning brain.” Benjy could have gone for fully functioning, but truthfully, with all they shovelled up their nose, he was no longer sure how accurate that would be. They were actively fighting a losing war, after all.

Raising a brow and shifting on his chair to face her, Benjy simply laughed. “Marlene McKinnon,” he mused thoughtfully, “You are the woman of every hour.” Affectionately planting a kiss on the top of her head, he sat back, visibly relieved at the prospect of something stronger. “K will do the trick, I don’t fancy being up all night.” Features adorned with a mischievous grin, he continued. “The real question is toilets or back alley? I don’t reckon Sir-Mopes-A-Lot will be too impressed with us doing it here.”

He’s nursing a hangover and sitting in a pub, which is a decidedly shit combination but one he’s made plenty of times before. Dung moves through the Leaky Cauldron on swaying feet, feeling exhaustion catch up with him but he’s not thinking of going home yet, no: he’s thinking of his next fucking drink. At the bar, gaze falls on Benjy and he grins, the fellow Order member quite a nice one to share a drink with, but then venom falls from his tongue. Not directed at Dung, but some depressed looking lad drinking a glass of stout who’d apparently thought it a sound idea to speak of the recently deceased while in a pub.

“Aye Banjo, there’s no such thing as bar talk. Or well, everything is bar talk,” they say, sliding in between the victim of Benjy’s venom and Benjy himself. “Come sit at me table in the corner, yeah? We’ll chat of rainbows and kittens, if ye’d like, won’t have to listen to this clown.” He gestures at the other man, barely sparing him a glance before turning to the bartender, “Round of beers, mate? For just the two of us.”

-

Visably relaxing at the sound of a familiar voice, Benjy couldn’t help but feel he’d been saved from a mess of his own making. Drinking alone was miserable, drinking with someone that loved to drink was just a party. Turning to face the source, he shook his head and chuckled. “Rainbows ‘n kittens it is,” he decided, before turning to the barkeep and shoving an array of coins his way, “The firewhisky too, aye? Just give us the bottle.”

Eying up his companion, he nodded towards the glasses he couldn’t carry and ushered them back towards their table. “I don’t think I can ever remember being so pleased to see you, it really must be dark times,” he teased, settling into a seat. 

     To bellatrix , unlike the rest in of the city right now ,  it was just simply another day . Many questioned her and to the eye of the world , she was simply a filthy rich socialite agreeing with the DEATH EATERS . Of course , many have been victim of her temper thus earning her reputation . She was one to be feared and look out for . Then again , feigning her condolences did earn her some brownie points . After all , she couldn’t be completely heartless … right ? 

      “ People are shaken up by such a TRAGIC incident . They are allowed to mourn in their own way .” Bella replied as she sighed . “—To kill a man on his wedding day .”  She shook her head as if unsettled at the thought . She did look over at the people benjy basically scowled at . “ Can’t really control what people can or can not talk about in the bar , love .” 

-

Benjy was not a man of consistently good decisions and this little trip was quickly becoming yet another bad one. With a dramatic roll of his eyes, he turned to smile sickly sweet at his new companion. “No, of course not,” he agreed jovially, the sarcasm barely disguising the ice in his tone. Nodding his head towards the brunette to indicate to the barkeep to settle a drink in front of her also, he shifted to face her.

“So, let’s discuss it then,” he suggested, sober enough to not be entirely antagonistic but drunk enough to have his fun. “Any close friends there? Relatives, dare I say? I heard there were a few weak links in the ol’ family tree.”

xoxo 

The Leaky Cauldron was beneath him - far, far beneath him - so why did he bother venturing there that gloomy August evening? For the pleasure of watching grief, fear, panic. Those weren’t sentiments shared in his usual haunts. His colleagues were mocking the victims and taunting the survivors - to do so behind closed doors amongst allies was entertaining, but Travers craved a deeper satisfaction. If it meant wandering into a dirty, dusty pub to find those in mourning, then so be it.

Travers slid into a seat at the bar with great distaste - what was so sticky on the lacquered countertops? And yet still he ordered a drink and sipped it idly while observing - and reveling in - the heavy atmosphere. “ Depends on the bar, ” he replied lazily.

-

Gritting his teeth, Benjy barely glanced at his newfound company. In places such as the Leaky Cauldron, it was easy to spot the unwelcome guests. Whilst he couldn’t identify most esteemed purebloods by appearance nor name, the subtle reactions registered around him were enough of an indication. 

“Must be frequenting some strange places, mate.” he drawled idly. Benjy wasn’t looking for a fight, not really, but it also didn’t take much to raise his shackles. “Where I’m from,” he started, aware that this was more likely to indicate the muggle world than Glasgow, “we discuss sports, women, sometimes blokes and not mass-murder by a bunch of elitist pricks.”

sage sighed, a hand ran through long blonde locks as she looked down at the daily prophet. it was enough to make her stomach churn, all the casualties of civilians and fellow aurors. a large part of her wanted revenge but she knew that would get her nowhere.  “not quite.” the witch said finally, looking up to see the other beside her. “it feels like drinking it away isn’t enough to mourn them, but i’m not sure i know another way to do it.. other than going out and capturing every single dark wizard i see.” which was what she was leaning more toward in all honesty, but she lifted her drink and look a long swig. 

-

Benjy let out the breath he wasn’t aware he had been holding. He was on edge, but it wasn’t the job of the masses to tip-toe around his frustrations. Glancing at the blonde beside him, he simply nodded. “Why don’t you?” he asked, eying her carefully. It wasn’t to suggest that’s what she should be doing, but it was certainly an appealling alternative.

Relieved to have another drink pushed his way, he raised the glass to his lips once more. “Do you reckon the Ministry will treat that as vigilante justice?” Benjy teased, a snigger escaping him. “Because I’m up for it if you are.”

Benjy didn’t make a habit of drinking at the Leaky Cauldron for obvious reasons, but whether he cared to admit it or not, he was seeking out company. It was where anyone who was unable to healthily process the death of fifty people would be and that was a comforting presence.

Knocking back his firewhisky with an admirable ease, he waved two languid fingers to signal for another. Whilst the liqueor couldn’t unsettle his stomach, discussion of casualties certainly could. Biting his tongue for a split second, Benjy shook his head and gave into his baser instincts. “Not exactly bar talk, is it?” he interrupted, unable to keep the venom from his tongue.

OPEN STARTER | Set: anywhere

Fifty dead, 2 aurors injured and evidence destroyed. It was a nightmare. Amelia ran a hand through her lose hair and let out a sigh. A massacre. No mercy. You read about this stuff in horror stories, not see it first hand. Amelia had seen many things in her career but she doubted anything could top this or wash the image of those bodies and that crime scene from her mind.

Amelia was on edge, at work, at home. It didn’t matter where she was Amelia was ready. Despite her work load most certainly tripling in one evening she somehow managed to find a moment to herself. Coffee in one hand, papers in another, Amelia sat down to read them. Her attention was was on the papers until she heard footsteps behind her. She spun around, hand on her wand holster ready to draw. 

“Now isn’t the best time to be sneaking up on people” Amelia commented, glaring at the person in front of her. “You need to be more careful”

-

Sneaking up on aurors wasn’t a common past-time of Benjy’s, but with a reaction like that, he certainly believed he could make it one. Raising his hands as if to signal his wrongdoing, he offered her a half-grin. “You’re right,” he confessed solemnly, “But it’s good to keep the aurors on their toes, saviours of the people an’ all that...”

Taking in their appearance, Benjy was certain he was being unfair and so he sighed, giving up his game. Assessing that she was unlikely to curse him, he took a few definite steps forward, hands still raise in a ceasefire. “I’ll be honest, I was coming over to charm you for information but I’m getting the sense that this isn’t the time.”

It had been a tiring three days. To be honest, most of her years since qualifying as an auror had been tiring. But it was intense, and it felt like everything was getting worse. It almost felt like the death eaters were stepping it up, and that they were one step behind. So, Alice really was feeling frustrated, and exhausted. She’d stepped out of the office, just needing a break from all the tension, and the chatter. if she could just clear her head for a little, then that would be enough.

The girl had stopped at her parent’s shop, and found an excuse for a ice cream cone, before finding herself a bench to sit on. At least she could count on Fortescue ice cream to still make her feel better, even if the world was falling apart around her.

-

Benjy did not entertain thoughts about the red wedding. Not as a matter of principle, but to make the days a bit easier. Detachment was kind to him and the pit in his stomach was punishment enough. Still, he chose to sat upon seeing such emotions written on a familiar face.

Clearing his throat to alert her of his presence, Benjy chewed on his lip as he contemplated something poignant to say. “Rough day?” he asked, glancing towards her and taking in the ridiculousness of his question. “Could be worse though, aye? You could not have an ice cream.”