Who: Gwenog and Stan What: Whumpage Where: Quidditch Pitch When: Monday afternoon Complete
As he stumbled through the fog toward the pitch, Stan felt like he was going to toss up every last bit of his body and like someone had used a bludger bat on his head. Apparently Flitwick had told the house elves not to share out the food anymore. And that seemed to include alchohol.
Drying out, Stan felt physically sick and emotionally awful. He missed Meg. She wouldn't forgive him, and aside from yelling- which he really did feel badly about- he couldn't figure out what he'd done wrong.
He wanted to talk to Oliver, without the guy's (admittedly funny) flirting. He just needed a mate right now. Only Oliver wasn't in the tower, according to the Gryf he met by the portal. That meant he was probably on the pitch, the daft fanatic. Squinting through the fog, he could see a figure on a broom.
"Ollie!" Stan called. "Hey, Ollie, get down here!"