"Me too," Charlie shrugged his coat on, weaving through the crowd as they finished up their drinks. "Should make it a regular thing, once Quidditch season ends," he suggested lightly. It didn't matter if he was hungover at work - although dragon roars could be impressively piercing. Oliver, however, didn't have quite as much leeway.
They'd walked away from the pub a little as they spoke, breath fogging the crisp night air. Charlie huffed, tilting his head back, lips pursed slightly and watching the cloud of vapour that emerged. Not quite dragon smoke, but he'd done it as a kid and it had stuck with him. Tipsy, it made him grin.