#c19: marlene

The loss against the PRETTY LITTLE PIXIES stung, but not in the same way from matches at Hogwarts and even the Puddlemere Institute. The intramural league breathed an ease into the sport, a lightness so high that even a loss couldn’t yank Gideon to the ground. So it was unsurprising that his face wore a smile, and that he spent no time mourning the defeat. Pulling out his wand, he summoned the keg of beer, kindly donated by Faintly Wronski after a decent amount of convincing on Gideon’s part, and began ushering players and fans alike to pour themselves pints. When he finally filled his cup with a golden ale, he sighed—quite happily. 

“I reckon it was the orange slices before the match that did us in.” 

“Maybe she got the wrong place?” Mary suggested to Marlene. Already they were five minutes late to their appointment with the nail technician, but Mary was rarely one for punctuality herself so she wasn’t yet too worried. “Bubble Bubble is hardly a novel sort of name for a witches’ spa, perhaps the Floo sent her to another. It’s not always that reliable, you know. Every time I try to visit Doc it spits me out in a different flat, and it’s never once been his.”