#bdjulian

@goldentaube​

“Which, under normal circumstances, leads to buying said broom or asking if the person testing it wants to buy it…”

“Would you really buy a broom from me though?”

“Oi! Clear the courtyard—or I’m pulling points from all your houses!”

But only a few students really shuffled out of the way. Julian wasn’t allowed to use his wand on the students even if only to move them to the side, so he was wading past Gryffindors craning their necks to watch his brother arrive. Julian hadn’t announced that Ethan was visiting, except to McGonagall herself; no one else needed to know.

And as Ethan approached the castle, word spread quick of a new visitor coming on broomstick. The visibility in the spring time cleared the sky and students and staff alike were eager to enjoy the sunshine. Julian, with his arms outstretched, finally managed to push some of the students back to make room for his brother to land in the courtyard.

“Merlin, could you make an even less subtle entrance?” Julian was the first to greet his brother, throwing an arm around his shoulder and dragging him to the grounds. He tried giving a glare to the small crowd that had gathered, with a few students prepared with parchment and quill. Ethan’s visit was a first; Julian never talked about his more famous siblings and after answering so many times that he doesn’t know anything about how his brothers were doing, a lot of people just put the topic to rest.

“Come on, I gotta go to the broom shed first.”

Even with the win over his brother, Julian still didn’t feel satisfied. All of his attempts to hit the bludger had mostly failed—and he didn’t even make a pass for the snitch like he was supposed to! They were tied and all he gave a shit about was trying to knock his brother off his broom.

Julian wanted more practice. He looked over at the makeshift pitch, over the bastardized version of a game he once really gave a damn about. He should be giving up, but he hadn’t dropped the awful broom that Finley let him try.

The break he has taken was short; he was eager to get better. Julian wasn’t built to be a beater—the bat itself was awkward to carry compared to the quaffle. Julian himself didn’t have the brute strength to do any real hitting, made obvious by his godawful performance in the last match.

A new game hadn’t been called yet, but he wanted to try a few drills with the bludger and the bat. He didn’t realize how much he appreciated low stakes Quidditch, especially since this is his first time really playing after having condemned the sport for so long. Julian welcomed a challenge, though he wasn’t too happy knowing that he wasn’t going to be doing his practice solo.

He called out to the figure left on the field. “Are you getting off the pitch or what?”

@goldentaube​ 

Falling. That was all Aloma really processed before she woke up in a bed at St. Mungo’s. She wasn’t sure if it had been the broom or her skill that had caused her to lose her balance, but she didn’t remember hitting the ground. She groaned a little as she tried moving, reasonably sore all over. She couldn’t really feel the fingers on her right hand, and she definitely couldn’t see that well out of her swollen eye but she was still alive so she couldn’t have fallen that hard. She looked around a little, trying to get a bearing of her surroundings when she winced a little, moving to rub her neck gently,

“What happened?”

Julian had been frozen the entire time it happened. It almost looked as if she had hit a bit of turbulence in the air as she tumbled onto the pitch. Julian wasn’t the one to apparate her to St. Mungo’s. It looked like she was a ragdoll and from where he sat, he wasn’t really sure what was hair or what was blood. His eyes glazed over and it was several minutes more until he finally walked off to collect the rogue broom.

Except it wasn’t.

The next few hours had passed in a haze for Julian. He didn’t need to study the broom at all; he had used it to fly back to school, back to his hiding place…

Except he couldn’t just hide from things that were his fault.

Aloma was already awake when he entered the room and it felt as if he could breathe for the first time. “Oh good—”

Except it wasn’t.

“—I’ve got… you know… books.”

@lafemme-lestrange

Once upon a time in a far away land, there lived a young maiden who dreamed of attending fancy dinner parties in the most glamorous dresses and chatting with distinguished guests. Maybe even meeting her prince charming and dancing the night away under the stars. Unfortunately, that little girl had grown up to discover that her handsome prince was currently doubling as a chair and the reality of these events were never as dazzling as they once seemed.

Tonight would be no different, and Vivienne went through her usual routine sans Finley. She was done up in one of favorite gowns, a vintage, deep emerald number that brought out a subtle green hue to her usually chestnut eyes. Her hair was pulled back in a sleek, low bun with two loose tendrils framing her cheeks. To match, she painted on her best smile, elegant and inviting, and began making her rounds on behalf of her husband.

While a pudgy man from the Department of Mysteries babbled on and on about community progress and limiting muggleborn rights, Vivienne was fortunate enough to catch the eye of a familiar face. She quickly excused herself from the conversation and bid the man whose name was escaping her adieu, then scurried over towards her rescuer.

“Oh I could kiss you.” Vivienne squealed when in earshot. Her chestnut irises sparkled, reflecting her sheer gratitude. “Another second and I swear I would have simply passed out from boredom. Thank you.”

Professor McGonagall needed him to go. Well, Professor McGonagall didn’t want to go. Julian could convince himself that she was busy running a school and that someone who was unofficially assigned to be the Ministry Liaison – totally made up, he knew, but still important even if he were the one really self-aggrandizing it for the most part – should go to an event like this. This has always been the presence Julian had always wanted to have.

But the conversation about having a census or a new passport wasn’t what he had hoped to hear about. He was actually hoping to have an audience with someone he could talk education about. Kingsley Shacklebolt could only do him so many favors, but it still didn’t look great that he was the guy who locked the students inside when there was a murderer in the castle.

He still thought circles about the situation. There wouldn’t have been time to evacuate all the students and he didn’t know that the culprit would be –

But he was interrupted by the very sudden appearance of a very pretty woman in front of him, whose face was painted with more color than what he was used to. A few strands hung close to her face and her green dress made his own outfit look dull. The suit he wore was old, and he was sure his mother had been the one to buy it for him. It was almost a shock to see Vivienne since most of their interactions involved reading frilly romances, though Julian should have known she was coming to such a… high profile event.

He immediately balked at her statement in disbelief. “Wh-what?”

@ethanwoodx

The party was passing by in a blur of sex, laughter, stripping, and booze. Ethan’s plan of distracting himself from his unruly mind seemed to be an overall success so far and well underway, starting with Dominique and ending with well—who knows who? It didn’t matter. The night was still young in Ethan’s opinion and his cup was now disappointingly empty. He had downed cup after cup, sunk shot after shot, and was, for once, minding his own business on this way to the kitchen for a whiskey refill when—

Crash!

Ethan back tracked, peering into the open room he had casually strolled by. The sight his inebriated eyes beheld couldn’t have been more perfectly timed. His brother, his older— more level headed— brother, destroying Finley Shacklebolt, son of the former Minster of Magic’s, office. Ethan had to blink to make sure this was really happening. Fury of this caliber was something Ethan had never seen before from Julian, practically a move straight out of an old playbook of his. Hell, it was a move the chaser could still pull off flawlessly and with flying colors, on and off the pitch, any time any place, one that despite his best efforts to contain every so often managed to creep up on him and take hold of his better judgement.

It was a feeling Ethan Wood knew all too well.

“Works better when you actually throw the shit.” Ethan pressed himself against the open office door frame. He folded his arms against his bare chest, still unkempt from hours of drinking games. Even in Ethan’s drunken stupor, he still managed that unmistakable aura of bad-boy charm and shit-eating grin. “Ya know, without the magic.”

A snarky drawl greeted Julian from the open door, though even if the door had been closed it wasn’t as if he had been sober enough to cast muffliato. Besides, he didn’t anticipate destroying a desk entirely anyway.

He spun around on his heel to face his brother, who clearly had no damn idea to stay out of his life. Julian didn’t even have time to be surprised at his unwelcome guest leaning against the doorframe, whose lackadaisical manner was somehow peeled off the pitch.

Whatever Julian’s carefully trained technique had all been lost as his hand was wound around the handle of his wand, and whatever restraint Julian usually displayed was long drowned in alcohol. Julian’s eyes were bloodshot, his entire body shaking; he had never felt so angry before.

@roxannexxolivia

Roxanne was getting tired. Her younger self would have been ashamed. Then again, younger Roxanne had a much poorer sense of self and primarily acted out for attention. Present Rox knew her limits– she knew exactly what she was getting into and did what she wanted when she wanted, thank you very much. Had she had better ideas than blowing American party boys to establish dominance? Sure– but gone were the nights of going home feeling sick with herself for how she chose to fill the emptiness, and how that emptiness never seemed to subside no matter how much she drank or what activities she kept herself busy with.

At least, that’s what she tried to tell herself. In that moment, the only thing she knew for certain was that her bounce back rate had dwindled over the years. She was out of practice (perhaps mercifully so), and she was looking forward to drowning herself in her comforter as soon as she made it back to her apartment and not dragging herself out of bed until she was good and ready. That had been the plan, and she had begun to excuse herself and extract herself from the tangle of bodies that had swarmed the games circle.

Her mistake had been veering back towards the food, hoping to find some snacks or a stray wine bottle that would compliment the goody bag that would most certainly be accompanying her to bed. She was stuffing an unopened bottle of champagne into her purse that she heard it–the roaring and crashing. Before she knew it she was rushing towards the noise, wand clenched in her fist and heart racing. Not here… not now…

Intoxicated as she may have been, Roxanne was prepared for a fight. However, the closer her heels clicked towards the sounds, the more familiar they seemed. Her heartbeat still pounded in her ears, but as she approached the opened door it became easier and easier to discern just who the familiar voice belonged to.

“Oi– Wood!” She pulled the volume right from the depths of Weasley hell, a shout she was sure would catch the attention of other lingering partygoers curious about the racket. She shot a glare over her shoulder, shutting the door with a pointed glare at any stragglers before turning her attention back to the drama queen in question.

He had been acting strange all night, fixing her with looks and rolling his eyes at her party antics. It had been a few years since she had been given a true look of Julian Wood disappointment, but something felt distinctly off about his behavior… She had assumed she had just been looking too far into it, forcing herself to ignore his behavior in her continued efforts him (and more importantly, herself) space, but she couldn’t ignore such a temper tantrum if she tried. Roxanne might have anticipated something like this from his brother, but Julian? It was unsettling, but she couldn’t just leave him to make a fool of himself, could she?

“I expected better of you, professor… table flipping is so last year.”

Someone with much stronger vocal cords shouted his name from across the office he had occupied, and Julian didn’t even pause; he turned his body immediately to face his adversary. And av

“What the fuck do you want?” Julian released a shaky breath, every inhalation sounding somewhere between panicked and pissed. He was breathing a lot and breathing loudly, but not much air was actually getting into his lungs. His heart pounded harder and faster against his chest, his eyes watching her and remembering far too much. “What the hell are you doing here? Your fucking admirers are missing the goods, isn’t that right?”

His own words were uncharacteristically venomous, but it wasn’t like he was wrong. What did she want? It was a question that Julian had wandered to with his frequently unfocused mind, though it wasn’t one he wanted to state out loud—although it was completely an accident when it had become the first question he demanded an answer to.

One line of thought had repeated to himself that the desk could be fixed—he, Julian, would repair the desk—yes, the desk, Finley’s desk. Another, however, just stared at the way her hair moved and the way her hands gripped her wand and how everything Julian had believed to be true was just a stupid fucking lie because how much of a fuck did she actually give--

@planting-sunny

Pandora Mae Scamander wanted to be lots of things: loved, respected, not treated like a steaming pile of dog shit, but she definitely never, ever wanted to be that girl. You know, the one crying a the party over a boy or girl, looking like a hot mess. Unfortunately for her, that evening she was neither loved, respected, or treated nicely. In fact, the only thing she was at that moment was a crying mess.

She sat outside of the party on the stairs, hoping the fresh air would help her feel better about her stupid, fake, two-faced, so-called best friend betraying her and hurting her feelings like she always did. Okay, maybe Dominique was always a bad friend, but that didn’t change a thing. Sunny was still heartbroken over a stupid boy and hated herself for it. She had thought that, maybe, she should go home and cry in the tub with a glass of wine and drown herself in cookie dough ice-cream, but she wanted to get shit-faced drunk. She could be an easy party girl like Dom, that’s what guys like him wanted, right?

The sound of footsteps made Suns freeze in her tracks. Okay, okay, get your shit together. A sigh escaped from her lips, pushing stray hairs out of her face, helping her stop her crying and stand strong. “I thought I told you not to follow me, you –” her head snapped towards the person, expecting it to be Dominique. “Shit. Sorry, mate. Thought you were someone else… obviously.”

The margarita was left abandoned on the table, only for Julian to realize long after he had wandered away from the cups game. The margarita can stay abandoned. It wasn’t like the margarita ever did him any good, anyway.

This time, he opted for an Old Fashioned. He hoped Finley had good taste in liquor, though he wondered if Vivienne was the one picking out the menu for this event now that Finley had gone… and disappeared. Julian made his greeting with Vivienne quick, but she seemed to be another of the few that was keen on avoiding him—but at least he understood the reason why: the Prophet was looking for another story.

Instead he made his way to the garden, only familiar during the day when he would follow Vivienne out for walks when the weather was good. Much like how the rest of the house was full of unfamiliar people, so was the stranger at the step who snapped at him. He lurched back a bit and felt the liquid slosh in its tumbler.