Who: Adrian Pucey and Cassius Warrington.
When: Wednesday evening, July 30.
Where: The stately Warrington estate?
What: Unmentionables.
Rating: PG-13 for alcohol/drug use and Adrian's mouth.
Status: Closed/In Progress.


It would've been an understatement to say that Adrian was looking forward to this little venture to Warrington's. For too long he'd been confined to his and Millicent's flat in boredom, and to be honest, he really missed the male comradery that Daphne couldn't give him. Not that he and Cassius were necessarily like-minded, but they got on well enough. Totally different backgrounds, yes, but Cassius wasn't the sort to remain friends exclusively with only those admitted to the pureblood circles.

Friends like that were a rarity in Slytherin, and Adrian wasn't one to pass up the opportunity.

Using some of the money he'd saved from pawning off his prized professional broom, he did what any bored bloke would do: he put it towards the alcohol they'd be wasting away on that night. A habit he hadn't meant to pick up again, but with the Ministry's decrees and his marriage to Millicent, his fights with Daphne, and then the crap between him and Potter... well, he felt he deserved it. He'd put the rest of it away, saving it in case his mum ended up behind on her rent again. Since Twilfit & Tatting's had issued her an undeserved pay-cut, she'd been on the lookout for an additional part-time job to hold her over. So far, no luck.

As for the weed..

Well, he might've broken one of the Ministry's new decrees to get his hands on that. Better than actually shelling out what little money he had for it, though.

And now that he had what he'd promised Warrington, he gave a lookover of his surroundings before disappearing into a seemingly empty, narrow alleyway. It was dark, yes, but there was a window just above him-- granted the blinds were closed, but it still gave him just enough light to read the address he'd scribbled on a piece of paper. After glancing about the alley one last time, he apparated directly inside the front of Warrington's home, the drinks in a bag on one arm while his other party favour remained in the pockets of his jeans.

"Warrington, the fuck are you?" he called, hoping that his siblings wouldn't be around to ruin the fun. He'd already forgotten how old they were... Probably in their late teens, right? Fucked if he knew, anyway.