Backdated log Who: Charles MacFusty, Dani Moyet What: Drinking with the enemy When: *ACHEM* Waaaay back before Christmas holidays Where: Somewhere in Hogwarts castle Rating: PG Status: Complete!
Exams were over, but Charles didn’t have cause for celebration. A letter from home was crumpled in his hand and was the reason he was seeking somewhere private and also the reason for the whiskey in his pocket, disguised as a bottle of pumpkin juice. He didn’t want the other Slytherins to see him right now, nor was he feeling up to sharing with Hailey - even though he had strongly considered the Hufflepuff girl. Considering what had happened last time they drank together, Charles felt it wasn’t the best idea to get drunk with her again.
So he decided on a solitary drink or two... or three. However, when he reached his destination - one of the old, abandoned rooms in the castle that few people ever ventured into - he found he wasn’t the first.
Somewhat nonplussed, Charles stood in the doorway, his frown deepening. “What are you doing here?”
At the grumpy, Scottish tone, Dani turned. She’d wanted space away from her common room to clear her head from her last exam, and ended up wondering into a disused classroom. Hogwarts seemed oddly abundant with them, but she wasn’t complaining. Gabriel had apologised and while Dani was glad, she still found herself craving some privacy, a place where she could write to her parents in peace. Which was then interrupted. Such was the blonde’s life.
When she caught sight of Charles, her eyes widened. She could never figure the Slytherin out. He insisted he was not kind but then checked on how she was feeling or went to lengths to explain himself to her, even while saying he normally wouldn’t bother. He didn’t seem to like many people at all, so Dani wasn’t sure if they were officially beyond being acquaintances, or whether or not to designate him her friend. She both liked talking to him and found him hard to read.
“Writing to my parents,” the girl explained, indicating the half-filled parchment that sat on her knee. Dani was cross legged on what was once the teacher’s desk, leaning on her journal to write. If need be she would pull the prefect card which she hoped gave her authority to keep the room to herself if it were to come down to it. One never could tell with the dragon heir.
Charles winced visibly when she explained what she was doing and his gaze went to the letter in his hand, mouth twisting. “How ironic,” he muttered, opening his hand slightly to read once more the writing at the top. “And here am I looking for a place to forget what I heard,” he spoke aloud without realising, something that those who knew him well would have known was a good sign that Charles was upset about something.
He walked into the room, to a corner some distance from Dani and threw himself down into a chair, putting his feet up on a desk. She hadn’t told him to bugger off and Charles couldn’t be bothered finding somewhere else. He took out the ‘pumpkin juice’ and unscrewed the top. If the blonde had a good sense of smell, the fact that it wasn’t pumpkin would be obvious even from a distance.
Dani turned back to her parchment, finishing her sentence before addressing what her surprise companion had uttered. "Forget what you heard?" she asked, curling a stray lock around her ear. If it had been someone she knew better Dani would have gone to their side and thrown her arms around them in a hug. As it was, she wasn't sure.how to approach Charles when in an obvious state, so she remained deskbound for the time being. "Why should my letter be ironic? Is there something wrong?" Dani ventured tentatively.
Charles looked up and frowned, realising then that he had spoken aloud and mentally kicking himself for it. He almost took it back, said it was none of her business and to go back to writing her own letter, but something made him hesitate. Maybe it was what Dani had ventured before, that she was someone who didn’t know him and have expectations. Maybe it that was why the words escaped his lips before he could rethink it again. “I received a letter from my parents. One of the younger dragons was killed over the weekend,” he said bluntly, but with a hint of pain.
He looked down at the bottle then, mouth twisting again as he resisted the urge to get up and walk out of the room. This sharing stuff made his skin prickle uncomfortably. MacFustys did not wear their hearts on their sleeves, and they did not share painful times with strangers. Hell, they didn’t usually share them with friends and family - which was the only reason he hadn’t gone to talk to Hailey.
“It’s not your problem anyway,” he said gruffly, fingers tapping on the bottle, still not looking up at her.
Oh. There was a temptation to assert that at least it wasn’t a family member, but such things were hardly appropriate at this juncture and besides, what she knew of the MacFustys implied that a dragon was just as good as a blood relative, especially if Charles was required to set aside his own dreams and aspirations to provide for them.
“Non, but I am sorry for you.” If they were closer, Dani would have given him a hug, but the Scottish boy didn’t seem overly affectionate even at the best of times. He had his whiskey (a cellar-master's daughter would never mistake the smell, no matter the label) and Dani was sure he would be happier with its warmth than hers.
“Do you know how it happened? Or is it not something you want to think on?”
Charles almost made a sarcastic comment about not being that much of a delicate flower, but then, as seemed to happen with Dani, he checked himself. Instead he shook his head. “Nae,” he said, slipping his feet off the desk and getting up, moving closer to the girl.
“It does nae bother me to gab about it. Apparently he got into a barnie with another older dragon and lot,” there was another shrug. “It happens.”
Charles then opened the flask and was about to take a drink before he stopped and offered it to her. “Want a drop?”
Dani was surprised when he left his desk to move towards her, sure Charles would prefer his solitary Scottish sorrow.
"Désolé. It happens yes, but this does not mean it is making it easy when it does so." Dani tapped the tip of her quill feather against her lip, considering how to finish her recounting of Dex's ingenious ingenious snowball fight. When she was done, the blonde scooted over, making room for Charles should he want it. He, like nearly everyone else, was much bigger than she, so the girl uncrossed her legs, dangling them over the edge instead to ensure there was room enough.
"Oui, merci." She reached for the concealed flask, taking a long sip. It wasn't how the connoisseurs consumed, but that wasn't currently the point. The warmth of the liquid, that particular, dark scent overwhelmed her for a moment, wrapping the small girl in the homesickness that had grown steadily over the term. She would be home soon and nothing else would matter. Shaking herself free from maudlin thoughts, Dani returned Charles' flask with a small smile.
He took up the invitation Dani offered and sat down, his posture immediately relaxing into the casual and slightly slouched position he usually adopted when sitting. Charles was not the sort to sit stiff and straight, but there was still a slight tension, an indication that he could move quickly if necessary. The letter was now stuffed into his pocket, and he nodded once at her words, but didn’t say anything. He had already shared more than he meant to.
Taking the flask back, Charles took a generous swig. “Home time soon, aye?” he glanced towards her letter, not trying to read it, but just because it drew the eyes. He probably couldn’t read it without a translation spell anyway. “You must be over the moon.”
Dani’s eyes fell to the crisp parchment, only half managing to muffle a sigh. “Very much. I miss them so much more, not being at my own school. I thought I should not, because I do not see my family during the term time there too, but all the ways this is different make it ’arder.” Dani idly toyed with the end of her pigtail. Somehow, without meaning to, she tended to find herself in conversation with Charles that she’d never expected when they first interacted over the journals. And while they rarely saw eye-to-eye on anything, she appreciated talking with him nonetheless.
Right now, she wished there was something she cold do to make him feel better, but his own standoffishness and choice to change topics seemed to indicate that maybe distraction was what he needed. “Would you still ’ave tried for your team if we ’ad played at a different school and you needed to leave for un year?”
Another nod and he offered her the flask again. Charles was more a social than solitary drinker when he indulged. Share the tipsy moments or something. Or maybe because drinking alone was just rather sad. Contrary to what most believed, Charles did actually understand it was hard to be away from home for a long period of time. After all, like all other students he only saw his home during holidays and even if Hogwarts was in Scotland, it wasn’t the same. Being even further away would only be worse. “Aye, and some of what’s been happening thes year probably hasnae helped,” also that Beauxbâtons hadn’t won a match yet would be depressing, but Charles didn’t mention that.
He frowned at the question, taking the flask back for another drink. “Aye,” he said after a pause. “I would have, because this is th’last year I’ll play Quidditch.”
The whiskey was warming Dani, something she craved in this abominable northern cold. Scotland certainly had its charm, but after a while, she found the cold and fog oppressive. Going home would be good for her, she knew, especially after what had happened with Gabriel. All the blonde wanted was a decent dose of privacy and normality, not to be spoken of and judged at every turn. Dani was happy, grateful and proud to be part of the inaugural tournament, but there were so many things to deal with outside of the game that had not really been touched upon. It would do well, she decided, to write this all down in a letter to the organisers, to inform them of her experiences and how it could be changed for the next time.
"Oui. There is much more than just our game that we must go through. I wonder if it would be so the same at the other schools." Oh, she knew she was running the risk of offending him again, but she also knew Beauxbâtons had nothing like the genderswap fiasco in its history.
She softened at his last comment, containing her thoughts that assigning Charles the rest of his future was monstrously unfair. There was no shortage of dragon-loving wizards, in Dani's experience, and had he ever even allowed himself the think of another place, another home? She understood the ties to a family livelihood, it was part of her history too, but still could not imagine having the freedom of her own choice withheld.
"I have not played as long as you, but I should miss it so much if I could no longer." Whether by injury or necessity, Dani found her doubts about a professional career slowly being allayed. Caer's uncle's dragon racing held a fascination for her too, but the noble sport of warlocks had claimed her.
Charles shrugged. “Mebbe nae th’same, but thaur would be some hijinks, it’s inevitable,” he observed. Put a bunch of teenagers in a new situation and there would be fireworks. He had no doubt that no matter where the tournament was held there would be crazy drama.
Another swig of whiskey and now Charles was feeling pleasantly buzzed, a little blurred and therefore he smiled, a little sadly at her words. Yes, he was going to miss playing the game, but a professional career had always been a fantasy. “I’ll still play casually, other members of the clan like a game now and then, but I’ll be busy with th’dragons and learning th’ropes from father, I’ll be too busy to miss it too much.”
Once again he held out the flask.
Dani looked at the tall boy, a slight frown making itself known. “I do not know your word. This ‘hijinkles?’” It didn’t sound much of a word at all to the blonde. But the English had a horrible habit for doing that now, didn’t they? If course there would be interest and intrigue and drama no matter the location, but Dani had experienced a few things she’d never thought or wanted to in Hogwarts’ hallowed halls.
Downing more of the whiskey, the petite girl smiled as the familiar warmth slowly unravelled through her. There hadn’t been anywhere near enough to make his fuzzy and floppy yet, but she was pleasant and content, and not at all worried about the castle’s cold any longer.
“What will your family,” that controlling force in his life, Dani mused inwardly, “do for Christmas?” It wasn’t exactly a secret that Dani couldn’t wait to get home enjoy her family’s customary celebrations.
“Hijinks means... noisy, mischief, merrymaking...” Charles said after a small pause to remember exactly what the word meant. Although he didn’t get rowdy or start vomiting into vases when drunk, his mind did get a bit blurred and he would forget things. “People goin’ mad like they’ve been doing here.”
She didn’t ask more about his future and Charles was actually glad. He knew there were some who didn’t understand why he didn’t ever think of rebelling against the life that had been shaped for him since his birth. It frustrated him when others seemed to pity him for it, because he genuinely loved the dragons and was proud of his family legacy, to be a part of it was something he was glad to do.
“Well... Christmas is a quiet celebration for us, New Year’s Eve is the big one really. But we’ll decorate the main hall with holly and hang mistletoe, there’ll be a large open fire and the Yule log burned,” he said, running his fingers through his shaggy hair and swallowing more whiskey. It had now become a matter of course to hand it over to her. The flask held more than it seemed so there was no danger of draining it quickly. “Mam and the other women will make Christmas dinner, with Cock o Leekie soup for starters, then it’ll be roast goose and venison followed by Christmas pud. After that,” he chuckled then, the laugh coming out unexpectedly. “Da and the older men usually get roaring drunk and start singing.”
“Oh. Oui Zis place,” her accent was rapidly becoming more apparent the more she drank, “eet ees full of la folie.” She nodded decisively at her own words, such an acute observation it was. “Deed we make you all mad, do you theenk?” Dani being Dani, there was something of a sweetly teasing edge to her tone.
As he listed off the traditions, Dani nodded, wrinkling her little nose in disgust at the mention of this heavy and indelicate Christmas pudding this island so favoured. She made no comment though, merely nodding along to the rhythm of Charles’s voice, sipping from the flask as he went. His last comment prompted a giggle, a sound she was sure he’d not heard her make before. “Singing? ‘Ow merveilleux! Do you sing too, Charles? Weel you sing for moi?” Dani tipped her head back to look at him as she asked, leaning against his arm as she did so.
“Me personally? I hink ye ken th’answer tae that,” Charles let out another short laugh. Just as Dani’s accent thickened, so did his. However, he was having little trouble understanding her, maybe it was the whiskey, or maybe he was used to the French accents now. Surprisingly the latter thought wasn’t as depressing as he expected.
Her head was against his arm, but it didn’t bother him, if anything Charles unconsciously shifted so his arm was more around her, giving her a more comfortable resting place on his shoulder. “O’course I sing, but ye...” he paused then and smirked. “All reit then, if you’re sae insistent.”
He sat up a little straighter, gave her the flask to hold onto and then inhaled. There really was only one song that came to mind. Charles exhaled and began to sing, showing an unexpectedly good voice and an ability to keep in tune.
Cam ye o'er frae France? Cam ye doon by Lunnon? Saw ye Geordie Whelps and his bonnie woman? Oh, weren't ye at the place called the Kittle Housie? Saw ye Geordie's grace a-ridin' on a goosie? Geordie, he's a man, there is little doot o't, And he's done a' he can, all can dae wi'oot it...
When he finished, he looked down at her. “Satisfied?”
Her somewhat silly smile was gone, replaced by a smaller, more genuine expression. “you ‘ave a nice voice.” After another sip of whiskey, she continued her assessment. “Oui very much le satisfaits.” Unaware that her movements could conjure other implications, Dani wriggled in a little closer to Charles’ warm bulk. “I know not at all what you sing of, coming from France on d'oie, but I like zee song steel.”
Dani stared at the flask without seeing it, rolling it between her palms. “Eet was très agréable, Charles.”
There was another laugh. Dani was getting to hear more laughs from Charles in less than an hour than he’d let out over the past few months. “It’s nae huir very polite sang,” he said, pausing as she snuggled in close. His blurred mind said this might not be a very good idea, but frankly he couldn’t be bothered to move and nor was he completely averse to a pretty girl snuggling up to him, even if he wasn’t the sort of bloke to take shameless advantage. “It's an attack oan th' sassenach king… the English king, an' a lament fur th' bonnie prince ower in France, an a promise th' scots will fight th' English.”
He leaned over and plucked the flask from her hands, taking a swig and tilting his head to give her a slightly mischievous look. “Scots and French, they’ve hud a close relationship ower th’past, ye ken?”
His mischievous smile was not one Dani had seen before. Granted, he didn’t smile often. She returned the expression from where she was nestled beneath his shoulder. “Oui, I...ken,” she attempted the Scots word, unsure as to her success. “Un enemy of les rosbifs is un ami de la France.” It perhaps wasn’t diplomatic to say, but Dani didn’t much care. It was a joke after all, and he was right, wasn’t he? Historically? Of course he was. Not that she’d say that out loud, he’d laugh himself right off the desk.
Dani was liking getting to see Charles laugh. Not that she’d tell him that either, but the Scottish boy was always so serious. And moreso, since he’d found her after bad news. The little french girl, growing more languid as they continued to share the spirit, was mildly intrigued to be finding a different side to him.
“Un allie, aye,” his French was about as bad as her Scottish, their accents mangling the words and Charles’ mouth quirked up into a bigger smile of amusement. He was a happy drunk, a flirtatious side coming out that was usually buried beneath his prickly pride. He didn’t take offense at her words, taking the joke for what it was.
“Reit noo we are bloated allies,” he added and tapped her nose. “Ye ken?”
Dani couldn't help but wrinkle her nose when he tapped it, frowning up at him. Whatever he'd said was completely lost on her. "Non," she returned in a voice yet to reach a pout, “I do not ken. Your words is very confusing.” Her’s broke off in a yawn. “And my nose. Eet ees not for zis, Charles.” She couldn’t be rightly bothered to think of what it was for right now, but Dani was very firm that it was not for being tapped by boys that shared whiskey and said strange, nigh unintelligible things to her. Not at all. Seb sometimes tapped her nose, but Seb was Seb, who threw her over his shoulder and piggybacked her down to the pitch. Charles was not Seb.
"hm," Charles pulled back then and settled back into his original position. "y'just need ta learn a leetle Scots then," he said with an emphatic nod before he lifted the bottle to his lips and took a sip. He glanced down at her. "tired?" he hadn't missed that yawn.
Normally, her superior and ever-righteous Dutch side would make itself known, but Dani was warm and a little floppy; not so morally upright or steadfastly convinced of, well, much at all, really. So she didn’t deny the charge. “Oui. Un petit bit le tireds. All zee Eeenglish makes me tired.” Talking to Charles, surprisingly, hadn’t. Once the alcohol had helped him to mellow, her companion seemed somehow easier to be around, less prickly than usual. The thought struck Dani that he tended to be nicer and less prickly to her in general, but she wasn’t quite sure what to do with it, what it should mean.
Charles understood that, despite the thickness of her accent, and chuckled. “Poor wee lass, better have a little snooze then,” he patted her shoulder. He was in such a mellow mood that he wasn’t even inclined to tease her about not being able to hold her liquor. Had Dani voiced the thought that had struck her, he would not have been able to give her an answer. Sometimes she annoyed him along with the rest of her team with their attitudes, but away from the group he actually liked the girl. She was scrappy, able to hold her own, like the MacFusty women. He admired that.
If Charles had teased the cellar master’s daughter about holding her liquor, he would have found himself on the receiving end of her beater bat. Fortunately, such words - and the subsequent beating - were held at bay. But she was tired. It had been a long day, learning in English was altogether more taxing than their hosts bothered to realise, and well, he was warm and not yelling at her. It was … pleasant. “I like theese word, ‘snooze’. Eet ees good,” she murmured, closing her eyes. She wasn’t going to sleep, not at all, but she could rest them, couldn’t she? The letter she resolved to finish later, since ramblings about dying dragons and boys with prickles would not do anything to ease her parents’ minds. “I weel not do eet,” she insisted, “but I like eet.”
Charles chuckled again and shook his head. He shifted slightly so her head was more comfortable on his shoulder, thinking he must have a good shoulder for sleeping on since he’d had female cousins fall asleep on him before. “Of course y’won’t,” he commented and then smirked as he looked down at her. If she wasn’t sleeping, she was very close to it.
Well, it didn’t look like he was moving anytime soon, but that was all right. Charles didn’t need to be anywhere in particular. So he settled back, arm around Dani’s shoulders and closed his eyes slightly, perhaps a little nap wouldn’t go amiss.