Who: Reese and OPEN Where: Three Dogs When: Wednesday night, later What: It's the anniversary of his brother's demise, so he's doing what he absolutely never does and plans on getting really, really drunk. Someone should stop him before he embarrasses himself. Rating: Possibly high, for language and/or violence of a whiskey-induced nature.
Sometimes, just sometimes, Reese caught himself wishing he'd been sorted differently. Born to different parents. Possessed of a different personality altogether. This was one of those times. It was the same way every year, on this day. The day his brother died, eight years ago. Fucking dead, as in gone forever and not coming back. And for such stupid reasons! Leith was his big brother and Reese could've forgiven him for joining the Death Eaters. Could've forgiven him for murdering innocent people and cursing their former schoolmates. But then he'd gone and gotten himself killed. And maybe Reese was a little bit tipsy right now, but it was better than trying (and failing) to come to terms with the divisions in his family. Most of it was his own choice, but this one day, he blamed it all on his parents and Leith and Voldemort.
He slapped his empty shot glass down on the bar loudly, already demanding another. A veritable lightweight, he'd taken precaution and booked himself a room at the Leaky Cauldron so that he wouldn't kill himself trying to apparate back to Hogsmeade. It was something he did every year, kind of a tradition. Which was what he was trying to escape when he told his Da to fuck off and his Ma to kiss his arse, because he wasn't whoring himself out to some bloody power-hungry fool.
The saddest part was, he was kind of feeling lonely. If some random Gryffindor or Hufflepuff walked up to him just then, he might even be nice. Order them a drink or two. Not mention blood status or house loyalty or anything silly like that.