Tutshill Chaser.

The young blonde Weasley was tipsy. Well, maybe not tipsy. Drunk. It had been happening more and more frequently as each bad thing happened to her. Shit boyfriend? Party. Kidnapped? Party. Lost job because arsehole was acting like an arsehole? Party. It wasn’t like she had much else to do anymore, with with Vivienne funding her, Dom could afford the luxury of a night out every evening if she wanted to. And she wanted to. 

She was at another party of some random guy she’d known at Hogwarts. Or his friend. Or a friend of a friend. Whatever. She’d been to enough parties to know enough people that she got an invite whenever events like this happened. It helped that she’d been acting out more recently - getting outrageously drunk, making a fool of herself, sleeping with strangers. It was that last point that probably helped the most. She was easy. And so, douchebag men invited her places. She knew it was happening, she knew how they saw her, but when she had enough alcohol she didn’t really care. It was difficult to feel shame when you were having a good time. 

Dominique hadn’t expected to run into Aidan though. Wonderful and awful and horrible Aidan, who she still didn’t know how to feel about. He hadn’t visited, hadn’t put in any effort to see her since they left school and very obviously didn’t care about her. She hated him for that, but she also held onto the shred of hope that if he took her back their love story would be enough to wipe away all of the awful things that had happened to her. 

“Aide!” She called over the music when she saw him, not even sure herself if it was a friendly greeting or an angry greeting. Drink in hand she pushed her way through the crowd towards him. “Aidan!” She shouted again. 

@itsaidanwood​

aidan doesn’t care much for the party life anymore. he would never say that out loud, but he’s noticed that when he’s out he doesn’t take too much to black out. no -- not like before. he liked to think that he was just getting over the life, but he knew there were cans of worms knocking at the back of his head that he was not about to open. everyone was dying, he needed to be on his guard, not in his head.

he took a sip of his mixed drink with some little hawaiian umbrella in it, nodding over at every other man that looked his way. move along, i’m not looking. all the while, avoiding every other woman who decided to force their bottoms against him. “thank you, but no.” he made it an effort to not look at their faces or his teammates -- former teammates? who would make side comments. “i’m not trying to get kidnapped here.” he yelled out to one of them before chugging his drink. 

at the first sound of his nickname, he decided to ignore it under the guise that he was hearing things. his ears ring when he chug things. it’s a thing. the second time, he raised a brow turning just in time to see dominique from a distance. “yikes.” he could only say watching her as she fought the crowd. he moved a hand over his mouth to hide his amusement, only to shake his head afterwards. he needed to stop that. 

“nique! hi.” he could only call back, staying in the spot that he was. “didn’t expect you to be here. how are you?”

“I’d apologize for things not being more interesting, but you know what potioneering can be like,” Albus quipped from his lab stool, eyes flicking up to his acquaintance with a rueful grin.  He remembered more than a few times sitting with Aidan in the library at Hogwarts and pouring over potions work.  And he was glad to find that passion still existed in the middle Wood.  Might even be a respite what with the broom grounding.  “You caught me in the wonderful wait and observe phase.”  The sarcasm was dripping from his tongue as he turned his eyes to the simmering cauldrons on the far wall.  

Bastarding spells needed hours before he could test them.  Hence why he was currently adding another coat of colour to his nails.  Dashing Slytherin green of course.  

“Were you looking to launch into a project or just brew something for fun?” he asked, eyes focused on his painting and not on his friend moving about the lab space.  The blood samples were all carefully hidden under a warded flagstone in the ground, really only giving themselves away by being colder than the rest of the room given the stabilizing charms on the space.  And there wasn’t anything else too dodgy in here.  He blinked.  Well maybe.  “Because I’ve never turned away from brewing as foreplay you know,” he teased, flashing a smirk in the other man’s direction and waiting to see if he took the bait.

@itsaidanwood

aidan chuckled, a hand invisibly waving away the man’s comments about the exciting life of potioneering. he himself would’ve mimicked what he had said, if al didn’t beat him to it. “if i had known you were brewing something up, i would’ve came earlier.” he admitted with a half shrug. “but this is fine. if i caught you while you were brewing, who knows? maybe during a q and a, i make you accidentally drop ... a -- that thing.” he walked away from whatever was on the table beside him, ignoring it more only for the fact that he really didn’t know what that was. potioneer of the year.

he allowed his eyes to roam around the room. it hadn’t been a while since he’s been around real potion-like things. his own room could barely give anyone the hint that he was even decent in potions. he paused in a thought and lowered his eyes to al and his ... green nails. huh. “nice color.” he nodded with a small smile. “couldn’t you have that done with a flick of a wand?” he said pointedly, his eyes attempting to go look around the table now, but pulled back at the mention of the word foreplay.

The broom he was borrowing hung from his shoulder with a loose strap, but he still eyed the brooms on display at Quality Quidditch Supplies. The Nimbus brand has been updating their models regularly but Julian imagined that sales would be down because of the whole uncertainty of the future professional Quidditch. No one was going to want to invest in an expensive broom just for games held for fun. Once this was all over, Julian was sure it would be back to business as usual; teams would start buying out new models by the dozen and sponsorship deals would start playing out again in Prophet ads.

A few people were purchasing pieces of equipment and gear, and his own blistered hands were evidence that he needed a pair of gloves. He had his own pair at the school, very much outgrown, and maybe he could treat himself to this one luxury in the meantime.

What was Julian doing with all of his free time, other than trying to avoid thinking about what had happened at the party?

The most important part of his life was Quidditch. He could fool himself into thinking it—with all of its awful rules and the absurd amount of attention it got from the wizarding world. He felt the leather of the gloves he eyed and considered buying the goggles and kneepads to match. How much has he lost control of his life that Quidditch was suddenly, all over again, the only thing that mattered?

@itsaidanwood​

aidan wished he had adapted well to the indefinite end of the quidditch season (or sport?), but like many times, he fell on his ass. making potions weren’t enough for the man to be satisfied, he was quick to realise when he still had all that pent up energy in him after four potions. it didn’t help more when he found out about the underground quidditch. why wasn’t he invited? he was just as good as a big league quidditch player.

it almost became a habit for him to go to the quidditch shop with hope he’d run into someone or even overhear some people. definite not eavesdrop. his brother was the last thing he expected to find. he nearly tripped over a display at the sight of the broomstick slung on his shoulder. he hadn’t seen that in a while. 

he hesitate in a step forward, before glancing at gloves in his hand. wow. “didn’t know you still played.” he tried in his attempt not to sound so -- condescending. “just the gloves?” he eyed the broomstick again. this was weird. “you still any good?” he trailed off, a thought springing to head instant. oh.

“I try not to get too bogged down with the papers.  Full of swineshit most of the time,” Albus groused, voice biting and loaded with meaning.  He did detest the free press, the load of parasitic journalists.  “But I suppose I’ve heard something about what a terrible rake you are.  Really, right out of the Victorian papers.  You and Lord Byron are close, yeah?” he teased, yes bright.  He liked anyone willing to raise a glass and care little about the consequences.  

“Well there is that I suppose.  Unless we end up blotto and throwing punches or snogging,” he replied with a laugh.  He shook his head and raised his own pint.  “Come now mate, this is grade-A turpentine.  Don’t you know a good paint thinner when you taste it?” Cheap lager was a staple among his group at uni.  “Here?  I’m forgetting.  Because it’s my family’s bloody business that has our name in the papers again.” He sighed and sunk against the wood of the bar again.  “And you?  What brings a hotshot professional sportsman to the pub tonight?”

aidan held a look of amusement on his face. really he shouldn’t, especially if the man was insulting him, but he couldn’t help but take it as a joke. if it was meant to insult him, then -- well he wasn’t opposed to throwing an insult back or a punch. he cocked his head for a quick second, a smile following quickly after in an attempt to hide his confusion. who the fuck was lord byron? “oh yeah -- we’re -- pretty -- close. right.” he rubbed at the back of his neck, taking a gulp at his drink.

“i didn’t catch you for a snogging kind of guy.” he bumped shoulders with him, a smirk evident on his face. “though did you actually drink back in the day?” he cocked his head again at the thought. “i am not even going to question that comment. paint thinner? don’t you have money from that potter fortune?” he half shrugged. he inhaled softly, his eyes widened a slight bit before nodding his head. “i’d hide too if my -- how is he?” he asked, realising half a second later that maybe he shouldn’t have brought him up. “i’m here for the drinks -- and the singles.” he added the second, though the real truth was the alcohol. anyone to pull him away.

Alex wasn’t entirely surprised, but he was concerned, at the very least. Aidan had been like this for as long as he could remember - when he was dealing with something, or trying to deal with something, he turned to anything but actually finding the root of a problem. He couldn’t decide if he should try to get something out of his friend or let him be until sometime when he was in a better place to talk. It seemed like a lost cause for the night, so unless something changed, he would be humoring him to the best of his ability. 

“It… it has been forever, yeah,” he said, returning the hug with as much ferocity as he usually did. He had been missing Aidan, even if this wasn’t ideal. “How’ve you been, mate? Oh, Merlin, bit foggy in here.” He walked through the doorway somewhat tentatively, but laughed nonetheless. “Damn, Aidan, watch out. I might stage an intervention one day soon.”

aidan honestly didn’t think this night could’ve better. -- well besides getting his girlfriend back, but that was a hard no, very apparent to the man now. no, seeing his best friend was what he needed and if aidan actually listened to himself, he would’ve kicked himself for not thinking about owling him. the man had a look of panic for a quick second, the word, intervention, scaring him enough for a few seconds before he caught the amused look. “goddamn, alex. you scared me for a quick second. -- huh, maybe it’s working.” he smiled at him and patted him on the shoulder as he made his way more into the house.

he walked past the little hallway, into the kitchen where he had laid his piece. “i got a few beers and --” he winced slightly at a realization. “you asked me a question earlier, right. sorry, i’ve been alright, brilliant really.” he wore his famous fake smile casually, as if the man didn’t really know him. “how about you? it’s been -- fuck, i haven’t kept up much with you. how’s the team?”

Aiden, Alex had decided, needed a distraction. More specifically, he needed a distraction that was perhaps a bit less wild than he would usually reach for – the two seemed to have slightly different definitions of what constituted a coping mechanism. He needed the kind of break that Alex somewhat vainly thought only he could provide: a night with his best friend. It hadn’t been planned in the slightest, nor did Alex ask before apparating to Aidan’s house. He assumed it would be fine.

“Aiden, my sun and stars, get out here,” he called, knocking on the door. “You’re hanging out with me, and you don’t have a choice!”

aidan is a mess. past, present, and possibly future. it’s a wonder how the man has gotten on his life without hitting rock bottom, but he sure as hell is getting there. after his last break up, which was totally not his fault, the man went back to that life of partying. maybe it really was just his way of coping with his feelings that he himself could not understand, but if he wasn’t drunk, he was high, and if he wasn’t high, then well -- he was trying to find something else to forget.

tonight was one of those nights. he wasn’t drinking, naw, not this time. he had already taken enough home remedy potions for his liver once he felt it yet again going bad. he had no regard for his own health as long as his person was messed up. no, his house was left with that strong smell of marijuana and by the time he opened the door, all that could be smell was the drug. he took a few seconds to blink and wave the smoke out of his eyes, grinning at the sight of his best friend. “alex!” he pulled the other into a tight hug. “it’s been forever. it -- it really has been. god. come in.” he moved out of the doorway for his best friend to walk into the smoky room.

“My bite has always been quite as bad as my bark, Wood,” Albus replied with a lazy drawl, turning to regard the new face.  Aidan had been a year behind him at Hogwarts, and as far as he remembered, showed that family’s exceptional ability with a bit of wood between their thighs.  He flashed his former classmate a wicked grin and motioned to the spot next to him.  “Come on then, raise a glass.  Given both of us here, I’m sure someone will call the press.” That would just add another article to the bonfire, but at least he’d be somewhat diverted.  

“And I’ll thank you not to comment on my small clothes until you’ve bought me a drink first,” he teased, eyes bright with amusement.  “Really, hasn’t any of your teammates taught you how to be a gentleman?”

aidan took a second to look the man over, taking a mental note of the man’s ‘small clothes’, before zipping his mouth with an invisible zipper. he took a seat next to the man, waving for the bar help to give him another drink, another one of his gross beers that helped get him drunk faster. “you really don’t follow the news have you? my teammates have for years tried to change me, but to no avail. being a gentleman is so boring anyways.” he smirked at the thought.

“i highly doubt anyone will report us here, mate. i mean, unless they really no more of those things happening around us.” he nodded at the bar help as he dropped a drink in front of him, taking a huge gulp of it down with sharp inhale and grit teeth. “god that shit is gross. what brings you here of all places? no -- whatevers your family does these days, kind of business?” his eyes widened slightly at a thought but cut it off before he could continue. that -- was a conversation for drunk aidan.

There was often not enough real estate in wixen England and today was a study in that fact.  Everyone knew this hair, those eyes, that look.  Albus sincerely wished he had a stash of Polyjuice potion worked up.  But alas, he was used to the pubs in muggle Oxford where no one knew who he was other than the nerdy chemistry gay.  It was an easier way of being.  

He tapped a nail, bitten to the quick and raw, against his pint of lager, the smoking glass of firewhiskey close at hand.  He needed more than a little drink to settle his nerves after the day.  It was only a shame he couldn’t muster the focus to jump back to Oxford.  So he gripped his wand a little tighter and let a scowl cross his features as someone slid onto the rail next to him.  

“I promise, I will find a way to turn No Comment into a hex,” he prompted, eyes fierce as he regarded his new neighbor.

aidan didn’t normally approach people he knew when he was drinking. it wasn’t his thing to have people see him in probably one of his worst states. he wouldn’t say that it was his fault that he was like this, (it really was his own fault), but he would never admit that, no, he would never think that.

this man in the pub was an exception. al — that was his name right? potter. that one famous people, out of the many famous kids in the school. the man smirked at the other’s reactions to his weight, the thought that there was a lot others who wouldn’t have minded it. “damn, al, vicious much?” he teased. “no one will know who you are, get your panties out of a bundle.”

“I think we have to break up.”

Lucy had thought about the words in her head but she had never actually rehearsed it out loud. Every time she thought about those words, her mind attempted to reach back to remember a good memory. But there were only so many of those, and most of them were getting fuzzier the more she thought about them. In a way it kind of helped her realize that moments like that were behind them – more importantly, moments like that can’t be relived.

The state of their relationship now is fragmented at best, only made worse by everything they discovered at Hogwarts. Even if Lucy hadn’t broken into the school with a small army, she would still be spending time at Molly’s, dragging her paintings around into muggle London because she didn’t feel like going home unless she knew her sister was okay. But even before that, Lucy hadn’t seen much of her own boyfriend and the only time that he actually came around was to check if Molly were okay.

Which was nice, until it wasn’t; Aidan demanded her attention but she couldn’t give it – her sister had been attacked, dear Merlin. She barely had time to catch her own breath. And while it wasn’t Lucy’s business as to what his problem with his brother was – what kind of awful ass person says someone deserved to be in a coma? It was nice, until Lucy realized that Aidan was probably using her to avoid whatever broomwreck was waiting to happen. And that fucking racist comment –

A part of her tried to justify it but couldn’t quite get there – he was angry and her parents were uptight with their expectations and such – and maybe Lucy hadn’t complained about her family enough? Or more likely, he hadn’t been paying attention. Lucy didn’t think she needed that much attention; she wasn’t as whiny as Dominique though just as dramatic and possibly twice as much of a chatterbox. But to be officially a boyfriend required a little bit of effort, aside from the coincidental tragedy that merited an emotionally charged visit.

She didn’t want to deal with the consequences of a breakup. It’s so strange to think about, being single again – but in a way she wasn’t single that long anyway. And it wasn’t so different from what how she was now anyway: trying to get by on her own. Actually – Lucy was getting by on her own, and too bad Aidan wasn’t there to see her, to support her. But maybe Aidan’s shoddy job as a boyfriend made that fact much more evident.

@itsaidanwood 

aidan didn’t know what to expect from his meeting from his girlfriend. -- their relationship has been one of the choppiest, and though it got worse and worse after every other time that the man spent more times with his bros than his actually lover, he never thought it would come to this point.

a break -- or even seeing someone for their relationship problems was what he was expecting, but it sounded just so foreign hearing the words slip passed her voice. the man’s eyes went straight towards hers for a brief second, pulling away when their gaze met and moving it down to the ground, primarily at a little spec of dirt on the sidewalk.