Helpless Waste

Lily was in trouble, and she knew it. She had just received the letter from school inquiring after her absence, informing her that she had not only missedher exams, but had also missed the deadlines to make up for them. She had two options. She could drop out of school, give up her wand, and live the rest of her life as a squib. As one of the cleverest witches her age (she had tested in the rop percentile) the thought of such a repressed life was unthinkable. The other option was to retake her seventh year. Her pride hurt, her ego stung - but what other option did she have? And she could not leave the country now - not with the marriage law binding her here.

She wanted to escape to America now more than ever. Especially since she was technically no longer welcome at Hogwarts. She wasprobably the only werewolf in Britain who had not registered as such, and it was for this deception alone that she had not been kicked out of the wizarding school already. When she was discovered, she feared for more than expulsion. She feared Azkaban. She feared society-wide discrimination. She feared facing her family. America sounded like safest place for her.

But to leave, she would need to tell Albus. And he would want to know why he was risking everything to smuggle her out of the country. And when she told him why, surely he would tell her she could not be helped. Her situation was feeling more and more helpless.

The Hog's Head had been kind to her. The staff had realized she should have been in school long ago, but they seemed to take pity on her. They did not question her request for drinks, and they let her stay even as they cleaned up at the end of the nights. It was only four in the afternoon, and no one gave her a single look of judgment as she sat at the bar, drinking from her Firewhiskey. The school year was wasted anyway - might as well waste the rest of it.

"Too many people here," Gordan muttered under his breath, a small frown on his face as he kicked up dirt.

Today was a special day for Gordan. It was a day unlike any other when Mr. Gray himself decided to enjoy a nice, leisurely walk into the more unknown parts of Hogwarts. He would normally traverse the forests on a day like this, but something felt off for him. For so long, he had been a center of attention, the wrong kind of attention. He had often hated and chastised the ones who made fun of him, taking notice of their obvious patterns as they went about their lives. One thing in particular though that came into mind when he thought about those men and women alike were their desires to head into a small town nearby and acquire 'butterbeer'. Something along the very name itself seemed very wrong, butter and beer in the same picture? For a student body? To drink? Perhaps he was overthinking things in that department, it had to have been just a name, but even so, he was curious.

Perhaps that's why he decided to traverse the stinging memories of those who had come and gone and venture into this new setting. Well, new for him at the very least.

Making his way throughout the narrow paths, curiosity was pummeling inside of him. So many buildings, and so many students, where did they all come from? He was sure he had memorized the faces of every person in Hogwarts, an assurance that could provide him with means of escape, but there were so many different types of people here. Some looked to be in mourning, with friends attempting to comfort them, the socially awkward types confessing their love to their interest, the atmosphere around them staggering, just the very sight of these differences were...astounding. He was so in tuned with the normal setting in Hogwarts he had completely forgotten about another part of life! He smiled to himself, a burning desire running its course through his system.

"I guess it's time to hunt," he said, if almost a little sadistic drop piercing the words around him.

A few minutes later, he had managed to successfully ask a passing group for directions to a place that sold butterbeer. They responded earnestly to his question, which led him to a quaint building with a sign out front. The Hog's Head. Charming. Opening the door in front of him, he was instantly assaulted by the smells of alcohol, sweat, and perhaps even hints of fear. This obviously was a place to drown out sorrows, that much was certain.

Already feeling uncomfortable in this crowded setting, he shifted his way silently as possible to the bar, taking a seat down on an unoccupied chair, trying his best to look visibly unstunned as possible.

Just keep cool Gordan, he said to himself, his own heart racing you can handle a bar setting, don't keep assuming you'll get yourself into a fight, those are just in the movies!

Hailing the bartender at the front, he instantly felt like he might have a panic attack. Swirls appearaed in his eyes, his thoughts scattered, the very idea of coming here a death sentence! "Butterbeer?" he quickly chirped, trying to hide his own sense of fear. The bartender nodded and skillfully poured a glass of the mysterious liquid into a mug and set it down in front of the frightened teen.

"Thank you!" he quickly spoke as the bartender walked to the other end of the row. Now, with his head hanging down, an intense scowl on his face and negative thoughts abound, he just stared at the contraption in front of him. God, I'm stupid he thought once more.

Grabbing the handle of his mug, Gordan quickly lifted the beverage to his mouth and downed as much of it as he possibly could. He wasn't expecting the rather warm feeling in his throat, but it didn't stop him from taking a large swig. Getting his fill, he set the mug back down with a clunk and made a little burp. Wasn't half bad, he could really get used to the taste. He blinked a couple of times and decided to get an idea of his surroundings. This was the first building in Hogsmeade that he had ever been in, he needed to get an idea of what the other buildings might be like. With that, he grabbed his mug once again, held it to his lips, and turned his body so he could get a view of the rest of the area.

It was a standard affair, if you were living back in medieval times. Wooden floors, walls, ceiling, things of that sort. No air conditioning, thankfully it was Spring though, so there was no worry of being too hot or cold. The patrons were the usual bunch you'd expect out of a bar near a school, adults who seemed to be well off to an extent, with some students casually talking and wasting time. Such was the life of a petty establishment. Taking another swig, he noticed out of his peripheral vision that the patron next to him stood up, dropped some coins down, and proceeded towards the exit, probably his tab. Making sure nobody was watching, Gordan quickly snagged the money that was on display, pocketing it for his own affairs later on. Felt like a couple of sickles, could be handy later on.

As he turned around, he noticed the seat next to the newly vacant one that a girl was sitting there. Fairly attractive, solid features, a nice set of bre- I meant appropriate features. Yes, he used the same word twice, there was no real good reason for that. He took another swig and considered his options. He could finish his mug and leave, feeling like he had wasted this entire trip doing nothing but buying things he would need, or he could try to figure out the reasoning behind this woman's grief. That was obvious enough, her expression yearned for advice, the air around her was tense, and she was purchasing firewhiskey. Wasn't hard to figure that out.

However, he didn't feel comfortable just walking up and talking to her...no, he needed a hook, something to get the conversation flowing before he had time to even think about it. Sighing, he moved himself back into a usual position and immediately realized an idea.

He reached into his pocket, grabbing the few acquired sickles he had, acting as if he was about to pay. Then suddenly, his arm jerked, spilling his mug over the countertop, arm flailing out and hitting the woman next to him. It'd probably piss her off more than anything, but it was a distraction. Instantly, he looked scared, petrified even...well, he was actually scared and petrified. He was a good actor, but he really wasn't good at dealing with awkward situations anyway.

"Oh shit!" he cursed, as he fell to the ground. That was an accident, it was a complete accident, he hadn't even tried to do that! God...why was he such a clutz when he need to be precise! "Shit, I am so sorry!" he said in a genuinely apologetic tone "I was just trying to pay and...oh god...did I spill anything on you?!"

Lily was exhausted with everything, and the last thing she wanted was to be reminded that life went on, and little things happened. The girl could not bear to think of anything but the relief the alcohol in her Firewhiskey would bring her. She had been relying on these forms of medication – alcohol, nicotine, Sugar, Spice – to get her through this weird point in her life. This point where she was failing everything that had once been so easy. Where she chose escape over survival, flight when fight was what kept her alive.

Lily Potter had been languishing in Rock Bottom for some time now. It was cold, but it was comfortable. And it had just gotten wet.

The drink was sticky and cold, so it was no surprise that she jumped up in shock as the drink hit her. The boy immediately began apologizing – Lily glanced at him, quickly taking him in. He looked like a student. This could get bad. She sucked her lip in and shook her hands free of any more alcohol residue, before waving her wand, restoring herself to her former glory. That was one of the perks of being seventeen – it had really helped in her magical vacation away from school.

“It’s…” she searched for the word. “Fine. I guess.” She avoided eye contact and sat back down. Then, without being able to stop herself, “But you should definitely pay for my drink.”

Heart still pounding in his chest from his most recent accident, Gordan managed to pick himself from the depths of his own shame and nodded to the woman he accidentally spilled butterbeer on. She seemed to be able to clean herself up just as well, with the unexpected addition of using magic to rid her of the butterscotch scent that clung to her. Obviously had to be older than 17, there'd be no way she could've used magic that freely otherwise.

Picking his mug up from the floor, he dusted off some of the filth that had accumulated on his legs during his clean up effort and sat back down on the chair next to the woman. She didn't look too old, possibly a year older than Gordan was...but he couldn't help but pick up on the very negative atmosphere she was putting off. Gordan was good at reading people, it became a trait that he had managed to whittle down into a fine toothed detail in his personality, and from those years of experience, he knew that she had to be dealing with some heavy issues. That, and the large amount of fire whiskey she was drinking. Hopefully that wasn't a necessity and rather just a way to relax...Gordan really didn't like dealing with drunks.

"Again, very sorry about that," he said right off the bat "I'll pay for your drink...I was just trying to pay for my own and well...yeah." He tried to put the mug to his lips, thinking there was still some of the sticky substance inside, yet felt more embarrassed when he realized nothing was in there. A nervous chuckle ensured as he set the mug back down on the bar, a rather irritated looking bartender grabbing it and placing it aside. Guess that was Gordan's cue to know that he wasn't able to get another one.

"So anyway," he said, placing his hand back into his pockets to fish out the money necessary for her drink "My name is Gordan. Uh, Gordan Gray. Sixth year Ravenclaw, prone to liking flowers, things of that nature." He didn't know why he was sharing a lot of these details, the woman obviously didn't want to hear it. Yet he felt compelled to, as if he had to share. "I take it you're a seventh year?"