“Outside of a dog, a book is man's best friend. Inside of a dog it's too dark to read.”

(ooc: again. not that sorry. 4973 words. Hot damn.)

His mind was always working, it seemed, even when his body went on autopilot. Oliver merely thought this, though, because as he let himself space out, the part of him that needed to think, needed to write, was still looking for a word that would best explain what he was feeling just then. Unfortunately, the best he could manage was "empty." So while the author himself may have felt empty, his bags most certainly weren't.

Eric had caught on quickly enough, waking Oliver from his stupor by attempting to pack himself into one of his owner's bags. Of course, the poor thing couldn't handle that sort of travel - after all, Eric hated planes, as evidenced by previous furious encounters after trips to and from France. Oliver himself was clearly in no condition to travel any easier way, so he determined he would take the first flight come morning. But, although the door had apparently been closed during his time lost in thought, Oliver could still hear Alice moving around in the kitchen to do whatever the hell she thought would change things. Frankly, he wasn't interested in finding out.

Weighing his options, Oliver finally decided that he had no other choice but to talk to Ariel, so he dropped his bags on his bed and opened the door, only partly aware of Eric following behind him. The dog didn't do well with not knowing where people were, you see. Especially Oliver. So Ariel would have to be on dog duty until he determined that it was safe to return. His eyes remained trained on the hall ahead, even as he passed through the dining area and down towards his friend's room. He didn't dare look at her, nonetheless try and explain himself or explain that he was leaving. Talk about looking cowardly after rejection.

That wasn't really the issue, though, if Oliver truly thought it through. Not completely, though he would admit that it did play a part. The real answer was that he didn't want to have to deal with her if she came back to try and talk or explain or whatever the case. He really didn't. Part of him pointed out the disappointment of her not going with him because of what he had done, but the rest reminded Oliver that he wouldn't have managed time with his parents and Alice without knowing. At least now he knew. So there wouldn't be any awkwardness. On the other hand, there also wouldn't be anyone to rescue him when he felt like he was drowning.

He knocked on the door this time before entering, giving Ariel a frustrated look as he waited for Eric to trot in behind him. The door was closed before Oliver sank into a chair, staring at the floor. "I'm gonna catch a flight in the morning," he began. "So I'm packed and about to head out. But um... Just hold off on telling her, yeah? I mucked everything up royally so it would be better if I didn't have to explain. She'd offered to come with but I don't think... I don't think that applies anymore. Just don't say anything unless she questions you. That's all I ask.

"Well, that and I need you to keep an eye on Eric. Make sure he eats and all that." At the sound of his name, the dog looked over, but just jumped onto Ariel's bed as if he knew exactly where he was meant to be. A sad sort of smile was passed Eric's way before it fell and Oliver pushed himself up. "I'll send word when I know how long I'll be away," he offered finally, giving Eric one last pat on the head before opening the door.

No, he hadn't bothered explaining why he was leaving that night instead of tomorrow. But he'd also talked fairly quickly, so hopefully his friend had just passed over the sentence as it had reached his ears. Either way, Oliver wasn't interested in actually talking it out. His hands worked their way into his pockets as he moved through the kitchen, refusing once more to so much as glance at her, and pushed open his door. One last glance told him that he'd have enough for the week if he ended up choosing to stay that long. A firm nod of resolution later, he held his bags close to him to ensure safe transport before turning on his heel. With a crack, he was torn from the apartment and dropped off at the Leaky.

As ever, the owner was around late - though, in all actuality, it wasn't all that late - and looked up when Oliver came through the door. It was apparent, it seemed, that things were not quite right, because Declan let his eyebrows pull together in concern, and set what he was cleaning back into the sink behind the bar. The question didn't have to be asked, Declan just letting Oliver wander up to the bar and drop his bags to the floor.

Although he wasn't the singular patron, Declan moved to greet him immediately, reaching down for one of the glasses Oliver typically requested - one that wasn't due to be filled with alcohol of some kind. A lifted hand stopped him, though, making the owner lift his eyebrows in surprise. It was almost comical, their silent communication, but Declan had to break it.

"Need something stronger tonight, I take it?" He asked carefully, giving Oliver a fairly concerned look along with wide eyes.

"Unfortunately," he admitted, sighing heavily. "It's been... quite a night. Just give me something heavy, yeah?"

Declan offered an apologetic frown as he reached for one of the bottles behind the bar, tipping it over and letting the amber liquid fall into one of the shorter glasses. "Do you... d'you want to talk about it?"

Oliver certainly understood the hesitant question. The men had never had anything difficult to discuss, at least not outside of their talks about Oliver's work becoming a struggle for him. So regardless of their previous talks, it actually meant a great deal to Oliver that Declan would be willing to sit there and let him get his issues off his chest. Still, he couldn't tell if he actually was interested in telling all or being completely forthcoming about his emotions. He hadn't been that sort of person for years. Not since his seventh year at Hogwarts, when everything had come crashing down around him.

"I appreciate it, mate, I do. I just wasn't ready for the news I was given today, you know? And then I did something... incredibly stupid. Probably one of the more ridiculous things I've ever done. And it wasn't like the choice could be completely blamed on the grief I felt, either. I think I lost the girl, Dec." Shaking his head, Oliver lifted his eyes to the ceiling as a show of his exasperation, then lifted his glass and knocked back a large portion of his drink.

"Sounds like you really did need that, then," Declan observed, doing his best not to laugh when Oliver gave a cough of surprise. Clearly the man had never been a drinker - though, Declan certainly knew as much already. A quiet chuckle escaped, and Oliver couldn't do anything but just roll his eyes, though his lips tugged up on one side, even if only for a moment. It was the closest to amusement that he had gotten since taking the letter from the owl at his window. For that, of course, the younger man was grateful.

"So," Declan continued, almost surprising Oliver when he spoke. "She got a little freaked about the news, or..?"

"Ah, no," he returned, shaking his head. "I mean, it's like I said before. She was just.... I mean, she was so intent on comforting me that I just didn't know for sure. I guessed wrong."

"Kissed her, then."

"And she bolted," Oliver nodded, his gaze falling away from Declan's as someone new walked in, the door closing too loudly and surprising both men. Realizing what conversation he had found himself in, Oliver sat up straighter, swallowing hard. "She was considering coming with me to visit my parents tomorrow."

Declan shot him a surprised and frankly confused look at those words, making Oliver's eyes widen and making him rush to correct himself. "That is, we were eating dinner when a letter came for me. You hear about what happened at the school today?" He waited for Declan to nod before giving a serious nod himself. "Well. My sister was on that train."

"Oliver.." Declan's eyebrows drew together, concern plainly evident on his face. He didn't need to ask whether or not the girl had been one of the students lost. His hand reached for the liquor again, almost without even having to think about it. Working in a pub, it had become a bad habit of his, the typical reaction to offer more alcohol when he discovered the truth about whomever was having it rough. Realizing what he had started to do, Declan let his hand fall back to his side before stuffing both hands into his pockets."You need a place to stay tonight, then?"

"Yeah," Oliver replied. "I just couldn't have sat around at the flat, you know? She just walked out after what happened. The idea that she might have come back in and tried to explain or whatever the case... it didn't sit well, so I didn't want to wait around and find out what happened." The next swallow of liquor Oliver accepted seemed to help him remember another important thing. "Oh, and I'll need to figure out a flight plan for tomorrow morning."

"There's a computer in the office if you want to use that." Declan offered, gesturing with a nod of his head towards the hallway that led down to the stairs and Declan's quarters for when he chose to stay overnight and take care of things in the pub.

Oliver nodded, knocking back the rest of his drink, and picked up his bags, following Declan down the hall. Having grown up in a family who believed it was best to show and be open with emotions, Oliver had been taught that one of the best traits a man could have was the ability to share that emotion with the woman he ended up marrying. Ended up loving. Sometimes, he had been convinced that he had been making the right decision by putting forth what he truly believed about a person. But so far it had never gone the way he imagined it would when he actually went ahead and did it. Alice was no exception, it seemed, and experience had shown Oliver that when a girl reacted as Alice had, he really didn't a shot in the dark of making it work.

Declan set off to take care of setting up a room for the night, and Oliver found himself booking a painfully early flight into Paris. By the time he had settled in his room and flopped onto his bed, Oliver was more or less of the mind that he needed to get past his whole ordeal with Alice. Nothing good had come of it so far, and it wasn't at all likely that he would ever experience anything particularly wonderful by her hand. Or words, for that matter. Even still, he could still feel the tingling of his fingers where he had so stupidly passed them over her cheek.

He just didn't understand why she had been so willing to act in the way that she had. In that breath of time, Oliver had come to the conclusion that something was there between them - and not just in his imagination or in some wish he held. But it had been truly stupid of him to risk everything as he had. Did she know, yet, that he was gone? Oliver wasn't sure she would actually be surprised or truly care. It wasn't like they would be worrying after him, considering they knew where he was headed. Or, Ariel did, at least, since he knew where Oliver's family was from. But Alice knew he was from France at the very least, so it wasn't like he had disappeared without any idea of where he might have gone. He was fairly pleased with the fact that he hadn't technically run away. He had a place he was meant to be, and come morning he would arrive. It wasn't solely because he was ashamed, though that realization was certainly weighing heavy on his mind.

It took ages for the author to actually fall asleep considering he was running through her words over and over, looking at them in different lights. Once he accepted the fact that she would be like the others had, though, the tension escaped and acceptance set in, allowing Oliver to sink into the pillow and finally find sleep.

A bit of organizing, a thank you for Declan, and a cab ride later, Oliver found himself boarding the six fifteen plane to Paris. The flight wouldn't last too long, he knew, but it would give him enough time to try and come up with something to say to his folks as well as decide whether or not he should send any word to his roommates. His journal rested on the airplane chair's folding desk, one hand holding tight to his cup of water. Any turbulence would ruin all that he had written, so he had determined to drink down most of it just in case. Staring at the page, though, he wasn't at all sure how to explain his sudden departure.

Every time he tried to put his pen to the paper, the words seemed to leave his brain, his entire vocabulary becoming irrelevant and unhelpful. Nothing could properly explain the cowardice that he had found within himself. Well, he supposed, it certainly explained why he wasn't a Gryffindor. Maybe he would just send word later, after he had seen his parents and knew how long he would actually be staying with them.

On the subject of his parents: Oliver had phoned them during his time in Declan's office, even as he was booking his trip home. Just listening to them was a challenge, so he had no idea how he was supposed to manage actually being in the same house as them, being able to actually see their grief right in front of him. That was something Oliver wasn't sure how to bear, and while he half wished he had taken a later flight, he knew it was incredibly important to them that he finally came home. It had been far too long, in all honesty, and that fact hit him as they announced they were fifteen minutes from landing. Nothing had been written on his page, and he found it more and more difficult to ignore the woman next to him. She had been eyeing his journal for more than an hour, seemingly waiting to see if he would ever put anything down in words or if he was getting work done. Something would have interested her, regardless of what he did, Oliver assumed, because she looked incredibly bored with their flight.

They landed, though, before a single word had been penned. The woman looked fairly disappointed, but said nothing as she gathered her things and left the row so Oliver could leave the plane behind her. As he came through the doorway, he expected to walk around and find the car service. Instead, though, he stopped short, surprising a couple behind him when he saw his father standing there waiting for him. The man looked just as Oliver probably would when his own children were adults. His father might have been in possession of darker hair and slight creases in his forehead, but Gregory held himself just as his son had learned to, hands clasped behind his back as he waited. It took him some time to register that Oliver had come off the plane, apparently, because he turned and caught sight of the writer, a little smile breaking through his obvious upset.

Had he been a boy coming off from Hogwarts, Oliver would have just run over to his father and clung to him. Would have just let out his fears and apologies and emotion into his father's pant leg. But he was in his twenties now, and most certainly not a little boy anymore, so he mad his way through the relatively small crowd (it hadn't been that packed, considering the time of the flight), and walked over to his father. He set down his bags, but the two men just stared at each other for a time, both seemingly trying to find a way to make the situation okay. When their eyes met, though, Gregory reached out and pulled Oliver to him by the shoulder, giving silent word that his absence hadn't been ignored, but was most definitely forgotten. There was no point in complaining about it now that something so painful had happened.

Gregory had opted to drive there, meaning that they would both get some time in the car before meeting up with the large, slightly frightening group that was Deborah's family. Rather than making themselves focus on the truth, though, Gregory found it in him to ask after Oliver, just as a way to open up the floor for talking about what they had missed in the past several months.

"How's the flatmate, then?" He offered first, watching the road but still glancing at Oliver from time to time.

"Ariel's fine," Oliver nodded slowly. "As well as he can be, I guess, with everything the Ministry is throwing at us. But he's actually not my only flatmate anymore."

"Someone took up the spare room, then." His father concluded with a nod in return. "Did you know him from school, then?"

"Um, actually, I met her at dinner with some friends of mine. She was having some trouble with money, so I figured we could split our rent three ways and make it easier for all of us." Oliver explained, completely ignoring the other little part that had decided his offer for Alice. The part that had gotten him into trouble the night before. "They were both really good about what happened," he added, trying to breach the subject without outrightly making things uncomfortable. "Really good friends."

Although he didn't actually mean to do so, Oliver had emphasized the word 'friends,' if only to remind himself of the decision he had made the night before. He could do friends. The best way to heal the soul, after all, was to use the senses. He needed to focus on things that actually made him happy and made him comfortable and all the rest. It was seriously imperative. There wasn't really any other option for him at that point.

"That's good," Gregory replied slowly, his forehead creasing as the anxiety sunk in again.

"Sorry, dad. I didn't mean to-"

"No, someone had to bring it up," Gregory interrupted, swallowing hard after he spoke. "Just be careful with how you approach your mother about it. She's just been in Thalia's room since she heard, and I think it would be better to go to her rather than try and convince her to let go."

Oliver nodded, sighing as he let his head rest against the window. "Right." He agreed. After that, they were silent for the hour and a half they had left of their drive out to the family home in Cheroy. Oliver had missed the house, to be sure, but it made him ache to see how many cars were out front and how many people were milling about on the first floor.

The windows in the old home may have been partly covered in vines, but they were definitely not blocked enough that he didn't catch sight of the numerous family members from his mother's side, carrying wine glasses and chattering on in the rapidly spoken French he had grown so used to. Thalia hadn't heard it to the extent that Oliver had growing up, but it wouldn't have been a stretch to say that he and his sister couldn't sit around and converse with their relatives. He half hoped they could distract each other with a game or two of poker, which he knew that Thalia wouldn't begrudge them. Cards were the family's way of bonding, just like board games and all the other things they had played during family nights over the years. Perhaps they would spend their next few games on discussing the Gryffindor they had just had stolen from them.

Oliver stepped out of the car, picked up one of his bags as Gregory took the other, and he followed his father into the house. Immediately, he was greeted by loud voices and open arms. While it was no surprise, he did feel slightly awkward about it. He had been more or less absent without leave for months, but it was like he had been there the whole time. It just made him feel all the more guilty about it. Eventually, though, after his relatives had remembered that he was uninterested in the alcohol his family tried to push into his hands, they directed him upstairs. Giving his rather drunk cousin, Maurice, a pat on the shoulder, Oliver stepped around the older man and started up the staircase.

The third door on the right was the designated for Thalia, two away from Oliver's own room. He set his bag down inside his door before walking past the hall's bathroom and walked up to peek in and check on his mother. "Maman," he started, leaning against the doorframe. Deborah looked up from her book, extending a hand to him silently. Oliver took her hand, sinking onto the bed next to where she lay. "I'm sorry, Mum. I wish I'd gone yesterday."

Deborah shook her head, closing the book before wrapping the fingers of her spare hand around Oliver's. "I don't want your apologies, mon grand. I want theirs."

Nodding, he sank down onto the bed so he could lie out on his back next to her. "That makes sense," he agreed. "I've been wondering if there was anything I could do, you know? But one man can't do much or anything without allies. I mean.... there's the Order, but I never wanted to get involved with that. Now I'm a little too tempted."

He very nearly let himself admit to what he had written - what he had shown to Alice - but it still made chills run down his spine. He needed to cool off before he made any decisions. Somehow, the house seemed calm, but Oliver attributed that to all of their relatives being the sort to keep emotion held in if it was negative. Positive emotions, most definitely, were meant to be shown - unless you had been shown otherwise through experience, as Oliver had. The only people he trusted his emotions with? His family, of course. They were the only ones who would most definitely not judge him for it as so many others had.

"I know it's not the best timing, but I've got to tell you something," Oliver admitted suddenly, turning his head to look at her. "I did something pretty stupid. There's this girl, and-"

"Ollie," she chided gently, already knowing what was coming.

"I know, mum. I do. But it's usually you and Thalia who know what to do." He glanced over at her, waiting for her to stop him, but it never happened. Instead, Deborah just waited, an empathetic expression on her features. He tilted his head so he could look up at the ceiling again before speaking. "I kissed her. Before even saying anything about it. It was just... ridiculous. She ran off, basically, except she lives with us now and she didn't have very far to go."

"She lives with you?" Deborah asked, pushing herself up onto her elbow and looking at him funny. "How did she not know, then? Sorry, love, but you're pretty obvious." A little smile grew as he shot her a miffed expression, lips thinning into a line. "You are."

"I know," he conceded, sighing even as he smiled up at her. "She just proved what I already knew, though. It's not really worth it, trying like this. I don't see a point anymore."

"My love, you're trying too hard. Just decide not to think on it and all will be well in the end," Deborah murmured, lying back down again. "Thalia would remind you that the girl just doesn't know you well enough if she doesn't love you."

Oliver sucked in a breath, feeling it just as strongly as he had when he first got the news. His eyes scrunched shut, and his hands came up to cover his face. "It's just not right. She should be sitting at the end of the bed, telling me that herself." He waited, but his mother never spoke. When he finally moved his hand and looked at her, Oliver saw that she was just watching him, a surprisingly passive look on her face. "How are you not... I don't know... losing it, right now?"

"I already did that last night. But I'm sure you're going to need some time. You've always felt things very strongly, like your father does. And that's why I love him. That's why someone will fall for you. And you know as well as I do that Thalia would have wanted you to stop worrying about what you don't have, but rather would hope that you move ahead to find something new. Maybe you were right - the Order might be something for you to be invested in. It's a start, at least."

"Yeah," Oliver agreed slowly, turning over the idea in his mind. It would definitely distract from everything that had happened. To make it easier, he knew the new leader through friends. If he could get involved, he wouldn't have to think about his own, personal issues.

"Want to go downstairs? They've been waiting for you so we can play cards."

Oliver couldn't help but love how well his family knew him. How well they knew each other. Thalia would have been pleased by their endeavors to remain together, and to remain positive. She had never been the sort to want anyone to grieve for too long. When things had taken a turn for the worst with one of their dearest cousins, she had been sure to point it out to anyone who would listen. Much like Oliver, she was exceptionally vocal in her opinions - except, unlike him, she was the same with her emotions. So he nodded and led the way downstairs. It was early enough that the day could be spent together.

Over the course of the morning and lunch time, Oliver learned that the service would be held later in the week, and heard all manner of story about what had been going on with his family while he was away. By the time he had won his second round of poker - much to his father's chagrin - Oliver begged a moment on his own and returned to his room. It felt fairly odd to be there, but comfortable enough that he knew the time away would do him some good. He needed to write to his flatmates and explain what was happening. He had to, Oliver believed, if he was to expect any manner of forgiveness from them for what he had done. So he sat himself down at the desk and tried to find some way to explain himself. Addressing either of them - or both - felt awkward, so he decided to just jump right into his message.

I know I didn't give either of you much warning when I left, and I apologize for that, truly. But, circumstances being what they are, I hope you can understand my reasoning and not be angry with me. I really needed the discussion I had with my mother about everything, and it's solidified what I knew after considering things during the plane ride here.

Thalia's service will be held on Monday morning, mostly to give time for everyone to show up. I don't know that either of you would want to, but you're more than welcome to come tomorrow and stay overnight if you decide to. If not, it won't hurt my feelings, of course. So it's hardly a big deal. Honestly. If you do decide to come up, just make sure that Eric is somewhere safe - he definitely does not do well with travel.

I'll see you both in a week if you decide to stay home.

Unable to find a suitable way to sign off, either, he simply jotted down his name, rolled up the page, and sent it off with the family owl. He didn't exactly expect a response, or to see either of them in the coming days, but he felt better for having sent it and having explained to them what was happening when they couldn't have known. His only real hope, though, was that if Alice decided to show, it wouldn't be her alone. Ariel could easily instruct her on how to find the home, but it would be vastly more difficult without Ariel there to be the buffer between them.

On the one hand, he needed time with Alice to explain to her that he wasn't going to do anything like that again. But on the other, he wasn't sure she would let him, and he wasn't sure he wanted to listen to her explain her reasoning. A heavy sigh left him, shoulders relaxing though he didn't realized they had been tense, and he made his way back downstairs to help prepare dinner.

“Just you and me then, kid.”

Eric yipped back at Ariel, wagging his tail brightly. Ariel dropped his head back against the mound of pillows he had set up behind his back, bracing against the twinging pain in his spine that he had left over from the full moon. A few wispy bits of white-blonde hair splayed out over the cream coloured pillow slips and a thoughtful look came over the face of the man sprawled there. His lips turned down towards the fluffy chin he had specked with a patchy beard and he sighed, wondering after the other blonde that inhabited the flat. He’d heard two slams of the door. The first Alice. The second Ollie. He couldn’t help but wonder to himself when his friends would sort themselves out and admit they liked each other. The strange emotional dependency they’d begun to have on each other was mystifying to watch. What he was unable to quite grasp, however, was why they didn’t just tell each other.

Supposing, though, that he had better go and locate the only one still under his watch, he hopped out of bed and dug his feet into a pair of flip flops. He whistled at Eric who launched himself off of the bed excitedly, knowing the drill: walkies. After putting the lead onto Eric’s collar, Ariel donned a hoodie and picked up his keys. He locked up behind himself and wandered down stairs, emerging out into the cool night air. He scanned up and down the street, wondering where Alice would have gone, but he didn’t have to wait long to find her because immediately Eric was nose to the pavement and Ariel found himself being hauled along by the little dog, surprised by the strength in him.

They found Alice sat on a wall. The burning end of a cigarette shone in the darkness of the night and Eric growled, alerting her to their presence. She brought a hand up, guiltily casting a look at Ariel. The man did not judge, however, and merely sat himself down on the bricks beside her. He looked down between them, inspecting the silver cigarette case inside of which were six white gitanes, one burned down to the filter. He smiled a little and looked at her as she twiddled the cigarette between her index finger and thumb. She flicked away the ash forming at the end and watched Ariel as he conjured a jam jar, into which he spat bluebell flames from the end of his wand. He smiled at her brightly as a little bit of light filled the area between them and patted his leg, encouraging Eric up onto the wall.

“They’re magic,” Alice ventured as Eric settled down beside the werewolf. “My brother gave the case to me. You smoke one for every loss. It writes the name on the filter end. Do you want one?”

Ariel wanted to ask her what loss she thought he’d gone through but before he could think to be that witty he found himself putting his hand into the tin and taking one out. He lifted it up to his eyes, watching as delicate script etched itself into the side. Jack. He smirked a little to himself and brought it between his lips. Alice lit the end of her wand and touched it to the end. Ariel took the first drag shallowly and took the cigarette away again, letting the smoke dance into the night air.

“The other one.” He began. “David?” Alice nodded. “And this one?” She held it out. “Ah,” he murmured. “Something happened then?”

“He kissed me,” she sighed, flicking away some of the ash. “And I freaked out.”

Ariel hastily brought the cigarette back to his lips to smother any sort of retort and, seemingly sensing it, Alice shot a weary look in his direction. She sighed, dropping her head against his shoulder and Ariel lifted his arm about her, drawing her close as he reached to flick the ash away from his cigarette.

“Why did you freak out?” Ariel asked gently, rubbing his hand up and down her goose-pimpled arm.

“Scared,” she muttered. “What if … what if…”

“What?” Ariel pressed, arching his neck to look at her curiously.

“What if he treats me like David did?” She asked pitifully.

Ariel stomached the desire to spit out a cutting remark in defence of his friend. He squeezed his other friend to him, instead and shuddered a sigh of his own, wishing he could keep his peace. But Alice had asked him a question and she valued him for his honesty. So honest, Ariel was going to have to be.

“If you think of him like that,” he said gradually. “Then it’s probably for the best you threw away the best thing that could ever happen to you.” Alice looked up at him, her brows furrowing. “Well, clearly you know nothing about him and don’t value him enough to know he would never do that to you.”

A guilty look passed over Alice’s features and Ariel was almost satisfied at the sight of it. He was still bristling at the stupidity of the comment but then he had to sympathise. She had been rattled by what happened. The following fear that someone could potentially do it to her again must’ve been crippling – especially given how set on David she had been. He was who she wanted to settle down with, to have a family with, and he’d taken that all away. Thereafter, she’d had no luck. No luck at all.

“You throw those dates, don’t you?” Ariel asked after a moment as Alice extricated herself from his grasp.

Alice nodded, briefly, once – a quick up and down that he wouldn’t have seen had it not been for the light. Ariel’s eyes bugged out of his head and he stared at her openly as everything clicked into place. She was scared – petrified in fact. There were people who wanted to take her out, understandably, but it was she who was the one who caused the dreadful reactions in the men she dated. She must’ve provoked them in some manner or another – a test of some sort to not only see if they wanted her enough to put up with peculiarities but also, probably, to see what was so off putting about her that would make David want to leave.

“Oh bloody hell, kid.” Ariel grabbed her to him, pressing a kiss into her hair. “I’m sorry. But really, he wouldn’t hurt you.”

They finished off their cigarettes, Alice backing the stubs back into the case before tucking it into the pocket of Ariel’s jumper. He kept his arm around her, the girl leaning heavily against him, and the three of them made their way back towards the flat. He opened the door, let Eric off his lead and flicked his wand in the direction of the food, getting his magic to put out one last meal for the dog before leading Alice back into Ollie’s room. She looked around, confusion furrowing her brows.

“Where-” she endeavoured, watching as Ariel fetched a t-shirt of Ollie’s from one of the drawers. “Ari-”

“He’s gone home,” Ariel informed her gently, gesturing for her to get undressed. She looked at him. “Bro code.”

“Oh, right,” Alice scoffed, pulling her t-shirt over her head. “Because that means anything.”

In response, Ariel pulled Ollie’s shirt over her head, murmuring for her to put her arms through which she did without question. He ruffled her hair fondly and picked up her t-shirt off of the floor before extending a hand for her trousers which she handed to him after a moment of fiddling. Eric wandered in, licking his lips and, noting Ollie was nowhere to be seen, hopped up onto the bed, settling in on his master’s side.

“See? Bedfellow for you.” Ariel smirked, tucking the clothes under his arm as he looked at the weary blonde before him. “Go and get some rest, alright? Tomorrow’s another day.”

“Is he going to come back, Ari?” Alice asked imploringly, letting Ariel lead her over to the bed. He drew back the covers, whisking away the pizza things into the kitchen with a flick of his other hand, and she sat down, lifting her legs up. With the covers tucked around her, Alice laid down, drawing them up over her shoulders. Ariel knelt down, popping a kiss to her forehead.

“I hope so, blondie.” He murmured in reply.

It was late afternoon by the time Alice got up - the letter had already arrived and Eric had been out for two walks. Ariel was strewn across the loveseat, reading the newspaper idly. She emerged gradually, yawning and shuffling her feet across the floorboards. Ariel lifted up his feet without thinking about it, tucking them underneath himself as she dropped herself down next to him.

“Do you look good in black?” Ariel asked idly.

“You what?” Alice griped, rubbing at her eyes. “Do I look good in black? What sort of question is that?”

A question Ariel explained promptly and soon he found himself ferrying the blonde woman along as she moved slowly, filling a few bags and grabbing a shower. Their flight was a late one and it would get them there late evening. In theory, they’d be there in time for bedtime – or at least a nightcap. It wasn’t the most practical of times but Ariel wanted to be there. He’d sorted Eric out that morning – giving him over to Mrs Higgins three doors down for the week which Eric was surprisingly excited about – and he’d packed after getting back. They left around five.

The flight wasn’t long, in truth. The airspace was a little thinner and they had a good tail wind. Alice was restless the whole time, though and despite working on another crossword having bought a book from the departures lounge, Ariel began to feel the same. He tucked a hoodie around her as she finally began to sleep and he himself got a few winks, enough before the plane landed and they trudged through arrivals where he spent more time than he would have like trying to confound the Muggles there enough to give him a car.

Thankfully soon they were hurtling through Paris, Ariel always having enjoyed the recklessness with which they all drove. He peeled through the city, watching the young woman idly out of the corner of his eye as she stared out of the window, further emotional fatigue heavy in her frame. She’d been quiet. Too quiet for his liking. But then, it was such a ridiculous situation. There was far too much up in the air and to be expected to then go to a funeral and converse with a family who, Ariel knew, would probably know much more about what had happened than Alice would like.

“We’ll be there soon,” he murmured, reaching over to flick at her nose. “Perk up a bit, would you?”

“I’m tired,” she protested, reaching onto the dashboard for the bag of pastries that they’d picked up before leaving the capital. “Do you want any of this?” She asked.

“Mmm, please, love.” He muttered, holding out a hand for a Paris-brest which she slid into his fingers. He brought it to his lips, taking a bite before looking at her, smirking with sugar-covered lips. “You’re not tired,” he accused after swallowing. “You’re sad.”

“Same difference.” She retorted.

“Allie,” Ariel began, straightening up the car a little. “You need to just take every day as it is, okay? You’re not sure how you feel. You’re feeling scared and that’s okay. Ollie’s still your friend, you know. That doesn’t stop. Are you listening to me?” Ariel threw the pastry at her and she squealed, laughing for the first time since the evening before.

“Oh, look!” She protested. “You’ve made such a mess!” Ariel turned his head, only to get the pastry flung back at him. It bounced off of his chest, disappearing somewhere in the foot wells.

“Waste!” Ariel complained, flicking the indicators, chuckling to himself. “Get me another one, you bloody witch.”

The car began to jump a little as they moved down the gravel path and Ariel drew the vehicle expertly in front of the house. He shut off the engine and stole the pastry out from Alice’s hand with a grin, biting into it before taking the keys from the ignition. He opened the door and stepped out into the night air, continuing to nibble on the pastry as he went to the boot, removing the bags from inside.

“Go knock on the door, would you?” Ariel mumbled through a mouthful of the pastry. Alice nodded and hopped up onto the porch, doing as directed before digging her hands into her coat.

Ariel followed up behind and reached up her side just as the door opened. Maurice appeared and Ariel winced as he was seized into the house and into the fierce embrace of Ollie’s cousin. Ariel gave a squeak, pleading croakily for air, and Alice smirked, wandering in after, electing to close the door behind them.

“Maurice… Maurice… get off,” Ariel whined.

Ariel finally managed to get himself out of the other man’s grasp and he picked up the bags he’d dropped. Maurice ambled off after a moment, leaving the pair where they were and Ariel sighed, casting a wry glance over at Alice who had slipped off her shoes, mustard coloured, which matched her coat. She smiled optimistically at him, having done as he’d instructed. She looked brighter – less pitifully tired. She still looked ready for bed, mind you, but better, crucially.

“Maurice,” Ariel called out sharply, but he was gone. Ariel sighed tersely and looked to Alice. “Get your aunt, will you?” He shouted over his shoulder after Maurice. “Someone, at least,” Ariel smiled, stepping closer to the blonde. “Like the gaff?” He asked.

She smiled. “It’s lovely.”

Oliver's mum had never actually won a game of poker. Not while he was playing, anyway. So after she had been forced to fold and lost all of her chips - which, literally, we're chips because none of them dared bet actual money against the author after so many years of failing to catch on to his poker face - Deborah came around the back of Oliver's chair to watch, her hands resting on the tall back of the seat. Maurice scuttled off at the sound of the door, surprisingly not falling-over drunk but still as excitable as ever. Oliver nearly made a joke about the older man being quite ridiculous, but his mother was still in the game, so he kept it to himself.

Tomorrow, he supposed, things would get quieter. The Eve of the service would be more reflective in nature, though Oliver still held onto the hope that Ariel would come. He didn't expect it of Alice, to be sure, but his best friend of so many years might decide he needed to say goodbye as well. Thalia would have appreciated it, he was sure.

When Maurice bounded back in, he paused so they could make their bets before rattling off an announcement in French, telling them who was at the door. Deborah's hands came to rest on Oliver's shoulder when he spoke about Ariel. At the mention of the pretty blonde who looked particularly nervous, though, Oliver tensed, his shoulders pulling back. Glancing up at his mum, he waited for her to move before pushing his chair back and leaving. Deborah reached down almost immediately to slap away the hand of their youngest cousin as she tried to cheat. Poor dear, Deborah nused. The girl didn't have a chance, even if she did cheat.

"Ariel," he greeted as he came around the corner. Hand extended, pulling the man into an almost-awkward hug that was nearly a bro hug but almost a regular one. "You came early," he pointed out, glancing to Alice. Knowing he had no choice but to play it off like he was completely normal and sorted and all the rest, Oliver's lips thinned into a line as he looked at her warily. He wasn't doing too well at the whole acting normal thing.

Sighing once, he sent her a smile that he hoped showed how grateful he was that they had come, then turned back towards the kitchen. "Here, we'll go through and I'll show you where to put your things."

Leading them into the kitchen, Oliver nearly stopped at the look on his mother's face. She just knew that this was the girl he had been torturing himself over, and she didn't look too pleased. He shot her a sort of warning look, and she thankfully realized what she was doing, covering it up. "Mum, everyone," he started, though the term everyone was not inclusive of all the relatives visiting. Alice would be in for a surprise, he knew. "You know Ariel. And this is Alice." He waited for them to sound their hellos before moving towards the stairs and starting up them. When he saw that Alice had brought a decently large bag, it dawned on him that they intended to stay as long as he did. Taking her bag from her without preamble, he continued up, taking that same right that he had the night before.

"Okay," he began, stopping in the hall to face them. "Alice, you can stay in here," he offered, gesturing towards his room. "Ariel, the end room has been turned into a spare with two beds so we can split that one. Just, um, don't go in the third door down here, yeah? My parents tend to sit in there. I think dad is in there now. It's um, .. It's Thalia's, so they're kind of trying to deal with it in private."

A hand came up to rub the back of his neck, but Oliver set Alice's bag down within his room before starting towards the spare to let Ariel set his down. "You guys must be tired," he supposed aloud. He wanted to explain that they really weren't trying to be rude by playing games and laughing and all the rest, but he somehow couldn't bring himself to do so. Alice probably thought they were mad, besides. "I'm supposed to go back down, I think, but you two don't have to. Unless you're hungry or just feel like saying up or something. Whatever you're feeling up to," Oliver clarified, glancing around to see if Alice had followed them. "I'll just need to get my things out of that room before you get to sleep, Alice."

Stood there, holding her shoes before her, her toes twitching against the cold of the floor, Alice felt rather like a schoolgirl again waiting to be admonished or placed in detention for the entirety of the day so she missed out on the last of the sunshine or some such nonsense. Ariel was no help, smirking at her with open patronisation. He knew that this was easily the most awkward thing in the history of the universe. When Ollie emerged, too, it was as though no time had elapsed at all and Alice guiltily dropped her gaze to her feet, wriggling her toes awkwardly before her.

“Early is relative, mate,” Ariel retorted with a smile, pressing a kiss to Ollie’s cheek, the smile widening into a grin. Alice her own smile at the sight and brought a hand up to her mouth in order to swallow it back. Solemnity didn’t suit her, mind you, but she tried to keep a little bit sober. He was right there and she wanted to hurl herself at him like she would’ve done if the past day hadn’t happened, scolded him for going without her and refused to let go until he admitted he was wrong for failing to recognise sooner that he needed her and Ariel. Now though? She didn’t dare.

When the smile came, completely changing the way Ollie’s face looked from terse to forcedly jovial, Alice couldn’t help but flash a smile of her own, bobbing a little on the balls of her feet, half hoping she’d get that hug. It didn’t come, though, and the smile slipped off of her face as though it hadn’t been there in the first place. Ariel, seemingly sensing the tension, elected to pick up the bags that they’d dropped – or, rather, he had – when Maurice had manhandled him. Alice knew he wouldn’t appreciate that the following morning when the body so contentedly ticking over on potions registered the pain as a result. Nevertheless, for now Ari looked okay.

“Do you want me to-” she ventured, stepping forward, passing her shoes into one hand, extending the other to Ari.

“No, bugger off, blondie,” he joked, batting the rucksack he’d filled up with random bits and bobs against her leg.

She scowled briefly at Ariel and he poked his tongue out at her, hopping off to follow Ollie. She hurried along after the werewolf, coming to a stop behind Ollie, from whom she peeked out, blinking at the full room of people. She raised her hand weakly, raising a smile for their benefit, watching as Ariel went and exchanged a few kisses with some relatives of Ollie’s he obviously recognised. She only remembered ever seeing so many people together when the Krums and the Andersons came together for Christmas. It was a different room entirely, of course, and hat number exceeded this but it was the only one that had come close since.

“Oh, ah, bonjour,” Alice offered jauntily to Ollie’s mother, extending her hand between them.

“’ello Deb.” Ariel grinned saucily at the matriarch, splitting the two women apart before any awkwardness could set in. Alice took a step back, dropping her gaze awkwardly away as she reapplied her grip to the bag she had retained. As Ariel inquired after the health and so on of everyone in the most tentative way he could, Alice stole a glance at Ollie, blinking as he came towards her for the first time since she and Ariel had arrived. She was again sorely disappointed as not even a brush of his fingers was granted to her when the bag exchanged hands.

“Ooh, onwards and upwards!” Ariel exclaimed, kissing Deborah once more on the cheek before hurrying by, pulling Alice along with him by the scruff of the neck, ignoring the strangled cry that he elicited from her throat with the force. She scrabbled after, gathering her feet and endeavouring to keep up with the wide gaits of the men that took off after. Ariel ascended the stairs peacefully enough but it was still a harried action which she herself wanted to mirror somehow. She didn’t know what it was but she ended up drawing up last, regardless.

“I don’t want to take your room,” Alice interceded gently, reaching up into her coat to pull on the necklace she was wearing.

“Don’t be so bloody self-sacrificing,” Ariel interjected, “I had to share a plane with you and drive you here. I’m not sharing a room too. We’ve done our bonding bit - bugger off.” He ignored the look of hurt that flashed across Alice’s face and turned, entering the room he’d been assigned without further ado – thus leaving the other two alone for a moment in the corridor.

Alice looked down at herself, desperately wishing she wasn’t so yellow. It was almost insulting. No, in fact it was. She unbuttoned her coat quickly. At least under there the black turtleneck was demure and sensible with the offsetting long white gold chain, a duck serving as the pendent. She licked her lips absent-mindedly, remembering the kiss to herself. She wiped it hastily from her mind and swallowed, stealing a look at him.

“If you’re sure,” she murmured. “I really don’t mind sleeping in the spare. I think Ari does, though.” She bit her lip, bringing her hand to tug at the necklace again. “But it’s alright,” she added, “there’s no rush. If it’s alright, I would like to go back downstairs when you do. I slept a bit on the plane so I’m sort of awake and-”

Before she could despair over adding another dozen useless words, Ariel remerged having dropped off his hoodie and his shoes. He was a little bit more casual, less looking like he’d been travelling for a few hours. In a shirt and jeans, he looked ready to go and drink his way through whatever wine Maurice had enjoyed. Indeed, he voiced that desire immediately, complaining,

“Alice, tonight is not the night to turn in early. There is French wine here with our names on it.” Ariel rubbed his hands together happily.

“I wasn’t-” Alice tried, jutting out her bottom lip at him.

“Blah, blah, blah!” Ariel cut over her, looking to Ollie. “Is there a seat on the poker table for me?” He asked as he bounded back towards the stairs. “Come on! Stop looking at each other like one of you kicked Eric. Hurry up and be normal already so we can go and get drunk.”

Alice wished it was that simple.

"It's fine," Oliver promised with a shrug, his expression not as nonchalant as he was going for. He was uncomfortable, and it was likely very obvious. Not only had he just given Alice free reign of his room again, though it was a different one, but now Ariel was complaining about sharing a space. It wasn't like Oliver didn't know he was trying to get a rise just for the option of thinking about something else. But he couldn't handle it as well as Ariel hoped he could. It more grated on his already tattered nerves, and he wasn't interested in arguing about anything. "You'd be amazed how many rooms we actually have in here. Dad fixed it up to hold extra people for the week, so I'm sure there's somewhere I can stay for now."

Oliver wasn't sure if Ariel was truly angry with Alice, or if he was just being grouchy for the kicks. Either way, he chose not to comment on it, instead gesturing for Ariel to head down in front of him. "You can take my spot, mate. They're tired of losing to me, I think. I'll be down in a minute. Gonna pack up my things and move them."

His eyes darted to Alice as he waited for Ariel to start downstairs, and it registered that the week was only going to become more and more difficult if they didn't try to come to some understanding. Once Ariel had started off, Oliver's hand jumped to Alice's so he could pull her into his room. It felt decently separated from the rest of the house, and made it feel a little less public when he pulled Alice against his chest, wrapping his arms around her.

"I'm sorry, Allie," he murmured, resting his chin atop her head. "I'm sorry. I was just... I wasn't thinking. I shouldn't have done anything like that. It wasn't fair to you."

Although Oliver was incredibly tempted to cling to her for as long as she would allow, he was already walking on egg shells around her. So he took a breath and pulled back, giving her upper arms a squeeze before releasing her completely. It registered belatedly that she would have been alone for the first night in over a week, and he immediately felt a new type of guilt gnaw at him.

As he started grabbing his things and putting them back into his bag, he dug in and found some courage. "Were you... did you sleep okay last night?" Oliver's gaze flicked to hers, concern flashing across his features. What would happen if she said no? It wasn't like his parents would notice or care if he stayed in his room with her - especially if they just left the door open. But Oliver wasn't convinced she would want him to. And he wasn't convinced he would be able to deal with it the same way he had before.

The real question he wanted addressed was not one he could voice:

Had she stayed in his room while he was away? Oliver still hadn't brought himself to ask Ariel if he even knew what was going on or not.  Somehow, he knew that the other man was aware, but at the same time, he sort of hoped that Ariel was in the dark about it. It came down to the possibility that he would have to talk to Ariel about it, and Oliver was just not prepared to talk feelings to the one man who could make him feel awkward about it. It wasn't at all that he didn't trust Ariel, but rather that his roommate had always been there to see Oliver's failures. He couldn't be sure that they wouldn't come back and slap him in the face. Especially when Ariel was in some kind of mood like he seemed to be.

It wasn't fine, Alice wanted to fervently insist. Regardless of the fact that they both knew she'd sleep better there amidst Ollie's smell and the knowledge that only a few hours before he'd been there and thus she was safe, she couldn't allow herself to give into doing so in his familial home. It wasn't something that could be brushed over when there were other rooms - plenty, as Ollie suggested.

Ariel's current drama shooed all ideas of protest from Alice's mind. She hadn't had the dubious pleasure of seeing Ariel drunk amongst people he knew. He, like the other two who inhabited the flat, drank habitually one particular thing, or often not at all, but never to excess. She herself would have half a glass of wine while looking through paperwork whereas you'd find Ollie often without or with beer unless he'd had a particularly bad day. Given that temperaments were running high and sensitive, however, Alice could half foresee them all stumbling back upstairs later on that night with no genuine intentions of being seen until late the following day.

"Damn it, Ollie," Ariel pouted. "You've frightened them off of betting money, haven't you?!"

He left, muttering to himself, evidently desirous of changing the minds of those at the table. Alice was sure she heard the distant exclamation for someone to get him a bottle of wine but she couldn't have been sure as for the first time since she and her canine chaperone had arrived, Ollie touched her. Thus, everything else became gloriously unimportant where otherwise she would've had a look round in earnest interest because the room, after all, was an insight into the man in question. She'd give it the due time it deserved later, she promised herself, but now she couldn't find it within herself to care a whit.

Despite her composure, Alice stifled a sob, turning it into a gasp as she was drawn into his embrace and she clung onto him, her fingers feverishly pulling on the back of his shirt. She took a few sobering breaths as she buried her head into his chest, breathing in the warm smell emanating from his skin - a mixture of soap, sweet cologne or deodorant and, then, what permeated his clothes and bed sheets: something just so uniquely and richly Ollie. It was all she'd wanted. He was all she'd wanted.

"No, no," she whined softly, "I wasn't...I," she couldn't find the proper words and was relieved of finding them when he pulled back, lingering with his hands to squeeze her arms reassuringly. She smiled gently in reply before leaning down, as he went to gather up his things, to retrieve her shoes which she hadn't realised she'd allowed to clatter to the floor.

"Oh, um...well," Alice ventured awkwardly, not sure if she should rat out Eric who had stayed with her. Granted, between her upset and his growls as he dreamt about chasing cats or the poodle down the street Ariel had been complaining he'd taken a shine to she'd not gotten much sleep. He'd stayed, though, so she decided to keep his secret. She didn't ultimately realise that doing so would mean being so unabashedly honest, though.

"I missed you," she blurted, unable to help herself. No one, let's face it, could help her now she'd said that. And she blanched first, as you might imagine, and then her skin took on that red hue of colour and she looked down at her feet, making an absurd decision - absurd for that point in time, anyway - to find a pair of socks. She didn't think she'd packed any though, worryingly.

"I mean," she tried to amend, "I went out and I came back later and you weren't there and," she pulled at her necklace, running the pendant up and down the chain worriedly, wondering if she was going too far, being too honest, and wondering to herself what it was she wanted from the man before her. She hadn't gotten the answer from any introspection that had gone on the night before so she didn't think she was going to get it now either and decided to brush the thoughts to one side.

"I don't...know exactly what my point is," Alice resumed jauntily. "But it wasn't the same." And being kicked by the dog on and off is not exactly my idea if a good sleep she half wanted to add, but Eric's secret would be kept.

"I missed you being there," she decided to reiterate and clarify, coming to the conclusion that that was the point she wanted to make. She had come to realise quite quickly that it wasn't the feelings of safety, the warmth and the reassurance that he'd be there if she did dream malevolent dreams but it was Ollie himself who she enjoyed being near like those in platonic, easy circumstances. She liked waking up knowing he was there and couldn't help but smile when he wished her sleepily a good day as he turned over and burrowed into the pillows for another few hours. She liked dozing, snuggled down in the warm, listening to him as he tried to get some work done - often in vain but she'd come to discover his particularities, the different meanings between every huff and miserable sigh. Above all, during those nights she yearned for him to have some luck, to find something he liked and sometimes that happened but she was sure it would find its way to the waste paper basket at some point. The man was a perfectionist at the expense of making any real progress and it was an endearing thing to listen to. In the end, she just liked having him near. She knew it was selfish and brutally insensitive to his feelings but she needed him. Could she really be blamed for that? Yes, she supposed she could, given how needing him but not reciprocating the emotions he felt could be the cruellest punishment of all. But were her feelings so radically different from his? She was beginning to wonder.

“It’s not the same without you."

Was that supposed to make him feel better? Because it most certainly did not. In fact, it made Oliver want to cringe. The action was held back for her sake, but as she kept on he reminded himself over and over that she merely meant that she was used to him being there and nothing more. It actually hurt, though Oliver doubted she knew or intended to cause that reaction in his chest.

It wasn't the same without you.

"Don't be ridiculous," he mumbled, the phrase lacking the malice that would have been given to anyone else. "You're just used to having someone there. It could've been anyone."

Uninterested in listening to any sort of rebuttal, Oliver stuffed things more rapidly into his bag as he kept on. "I would suggest you share the room with Ariel, but he's in a mood. So... If you really need someone here, I can- that is... I'll stay if you want. But I don't mind grabbing the couch or some other room, either." His bag's strap was settled on his shoulder by the time he finished speaking, as if daring Alice to ask him to stay.

He didn't want to admit it, but Oliver was hoping she would ask him to stay. It didn't make sense, given his decision to let her alone and convince himself to move on, but she was standing there like she might fall apart, and Oliver was suddenly unsure he could actually keep the promise he made to himself. Already, he was wondering if he could have played the depressed-because-of-a-loss card and convinced her to just stay in his room with him because for once he would admit to needing her in return. But it was far too late for that. So Oliver chose to just let Alice decide their fate.

He knew, of course, what would happen for each option he had given her. On the one hand, Alice could send him away and it would be a good sign that he would be forgiven the desire he felt to actually join Ariel is getting utterly smashed. He wouldn't pin it on her, obviously, when it could so easily be because of Thalia. But he could break his unspoken vow to avoid alcohol, pass out somewhere and actually get some sleep. Even if it meant dealing with a god awful hangover. Out of anyone, Oliver would be forgiven. Especially by his mother.

But if she asked him to stay? Oliver was a bit less sure. For an old home in France, the Connollys and indeed his mother's side too, were lucky that they accepted the Wizarding world and all that came with it. That meant a bigger home, and yes, air conditioning. They had perhaps the only old home in Cheroy that was privy to it. Then again, Deb's side had always been the superstitious sort, and didn't find it that difficult to handle what Oliver, Greg and Thalia were. Or, had been in her case. Most of them, anyway. Because of this, the typically humid and over warm home was actually decently cold at night. So it would be back to his old routine of laying atop the covers until Alice left, but Oliver wasn't even convinced he would complain about it this time.

Things could be semi-normal, and that would be decent enough if you asked him. Not that anyone would - or should, really.

Alice’s eyebrows knitted together expressively, her lips curling down mournfully at the sides. She lowered her gaze ashamedly. She couldn’t contest his words – not least because he moved on but because to do so would mean she would have to potentially clarify herself and Alice didn’t have the reasoning. She didn’t know why but she knew it wasn’t just anyone. It was a poor comparison but she couldn’t help but think of her distaste for sleeping with her sister, Marianne, when they were little. She also didn’t think she could sleep with both eyes shut if she had Ariel on the other side of the bed. It wasn’t just anyone. It was him. Ollie.

Alice took a step back as Ollie rounded on her. She closed her hand around the duck pendant and lifted her eyes gently to his face, braving a retrace of her step, making a little bit more headway so she could draw up in front of him, a breath between them. She glared at him, folding her arms over her chest, and was half tempted to poke his chest and ask him why he was punishing her; especially for something that now she was beginning to realise she hadn’t really meant and that she’d already apologised for. Instead she jutted out her lower lip, her brows furrowing almost comically over her bright eyes, the light catching from the lamp sending them to sparkling.

“I want you to want to stay,” she retorted passionately. “But if you want me to be plain, I want you to stay. Because no, Ollie. It’s not anyone.” She looked at him balefully and sighed, bringing her hands up to settle on his shoulders. She bit her lip and pushed at the strap of his bag off of his frame, letting it bob to the floor, a little bit of her magic darting out to cushion its fall and set it down gently. It was a mixed look on her face that she fixed him with: half-admonishment, half-adoration.

“Don’t shut me out, Ollie,” she begged. “Please,” she brought her hand up to his cheek. “I don’t want anything to change…I,” Alice closed her eyes briefly, feeling how ludicrous she sounded. “I need you.” She brought her other hand up to clasp at his face from the other side. “I need you not anyone else. You are important to me. No one can replace you. Not anyone. Don’t think like that, alright? You are valued. You are loved.” She impulsively jumped up, pressing her lips to his forehead before landing back lithely on the balls of her feet.

Her shoes, by the way, were on the floor again.

“So stop it,” she insisted, reaching down to take his hand. “Take me downstairs, pour me a glass of wine and talk to me. Or I’ll be your poker partner if you want to go back to the table.” She squeezed his hand. “Please, just … let me back in.” She raised her eyebrows earnestly. “I’m still here for you. Can things please just be normal again for a minute?” She smiled a little. “Besides, we’re going to have to drag Ariel back up here later on so we should go and see what damage we have to contend with.”

For a moment, Oliver thought that Alice was angry with him, and she probably was, but it was still gratifying to some extent that it really was him that she thought she needed.

Why did she have to go and use that word? Oliver jerked away without thinking, apology falling before he could even realize he had done it. "Sorry. Really tense," he lied, only barely able to register his feeling embarrassed about being dishonest with her. But she had just made a mistake by using a word that Oliver valued so strongly. She was throwing it around like it was nothing, and he knew that, if she ever did turn around and mean it, he would be massively unlikely to believe it. That in itself made him rather sad, though he didn't expect it to ever matter.

"Right," he murmured, wanting to pull his hand away but also wanting to work with her to make things easier. Somehow, the alcohol still sounded appealing, so he wasn't entirely sure that he could help it if he ended up towards the tipsy end. As far as he knew, though, he was a fairly nice drunk. Granted, that was the opinion of the drunk in question, so it probably meant nothing. Choosing to go the more lighthearted route, Oliver added, "For a minute, yeah," with the most teasing tone he could manage.

So it was downstairs that he led her, not looking forward to telling Ariel where he would be staying, but half not caring at that point. When they reached the bottom of the stairs, his fingers released hers, coming to rest at her back to guide her ahead of him. "How about you play, Alice?" He suggested, gesturing with his free hand to the open chair at the table. "You can handle these guys."

"I'm not a guy," Minnie pointed out unhelpfully, looking up at Oliver with a pout. The youngest cousin, Minnie was only ten and impressively vocal about... everything.

"I know, love," he replied gently, patting her head as he passed. Pulling out the empty chair for Alice, Oliver waited until she sat before resting a hand on her shoulder. Giving her a squeeze, he directed his next comment at her. "Drink, Allie?"

His gaze flicked between Ariel and his mum, wary of giving either of them something they wanted to 'talk to him' about. After Alice gave him her choice, he went to the adjoining kitchen and pulled out a beer for himself and then filled her request before bringing it back to the table with him. It was almost like a strange flashback to their first meeting with the drinking and the poker and all the rest. The Oliver of a few days ago would've told Alice to stand so he could sit and then let her sit in his lap. But with Ariel and his mum knowing, he decided to just lean on the tall back of her chair instead.

"Who's winning?" he offered by way of conversation, offering a smile in his mum's direction. Hopefully if he could deny her any ammunition, she would leave the pair of them alone.

Only for a minute. So they were okay then. Alice scowled at Oliver again playfully, her thin lips spreading out into an easy smile after a moment of silent admonishment. She leaned against him and poked her tongue out cheekily before taking her feet properly once more as they departed from the quiet of the bedroom and entered the din of the lower levels of the house.

Ariel was crowing about something, though Alice didn't care to wonder after what it was he was so pleased about. He sloshed another glug of a deep, rich burgundy into his glass which had the stains down the rim that were indicative of it having been used with some fervour while he'd been unattended by them. Alice was almost tempted to turn into Ollie and beg him not to let her fumble over cards in front of Ariel who was quicker and sharper when it came to the game than she'd ever be. She wanted to point out that she'd beat him in a boardroom, not at a game of cards where he had more than chance on his side, but then it it occurred to her that there wasn't much disparity between the two, really, so she took her seat. She turned a little and thanked Ollie as the chair was pushed in beneath her and she nodded at his question.

"Oh please," she said. "If there's any white wine open..," Alice bit her lip, not wanting to inconvenience anyone with asking for something out of the question. "If not, I don't mind what it is. Thank you."

Alice smiled brightly at the little girl sat nursing her own cards looking out of place amongst the ailing adults, infirm in their intoxication. Alice had a feeling the girl would liberate them all of their chips before long. She'd be glad of losing hers, too. It would narrow the amount of time she'd have to puzzle over the cards. She didn't think she'd ever really understand it.

"You're cleverer than I am at this," Alice murmured, leaning towards the girl. She cast an eye in Ariel's direction and gestured to him across the table. "And you'll be able to swindle that one if he drinks much more."

"Oi!" Ariel yelped, picking up his glass and swilling it in her direction. "I'll have none of that from you."

"None of what?" Alice inquired airily, painting an innocent smile on her lips.

Ariel glared and opened his mouth to reply but thought better of it upon catching sight of Ollie, deeming it more prudent to resume shuffling the cards he'd drawn back to accommodate the new entrant to the table. It mystified her that he'd managed to lobby for control so quickly but then she supposed it was because he knew Ollie's family. There was an intimacy and familiarity there that allowed for cheek. The cards were tossed out in the glib manner Alice had expected and they drew up what they held, Alice pouting a little at her hand. Ariel let a smirk slide onto his features as he laid down his chips.

She smiled gently at Ollie when she glanced around to find him behind her and she whispered her thanks, taking her glass from him to have a sip before setting it down on the top. She licked her lips briefly and folded her legs under the table, sitting back to wage quiet war with Ariel through a series of glares.

"Minnie is," Ariel produced an answer as the cards were turned over, sitting back in his chair and lifting his wine along with him. Alice produced her own nonsense hand, mirroring the werewolf's body language as she brought the glass to her lips.

"Alice is playing like Alice," Ariel narrated for Ollie's sake.

"That was a practice round!" She protested, helping herd the chips into Minnie's portion of the table.

"Bloody wasn't!" Ariel returned, taking the cards back. "You're just dreadful."

"I could wipe the floor with you if we were playing rummy." She turned back at him, recalling all of her knowledge on that front and all of the tireless evenings she'd spent with Dan while he'd endeavoured to teach her. Interestingly, a lot of wine had been consumed then, too.

"Heaven forbid," Ariel put his hand to his forehead mock-dramatically. Alice pouted at him and cut the cards when he held them out to her, watching him shuffle for a bit longer before doling them out.

Alice lifted hers up and whined pitifully, eliciting a bark of a laugh from the man sat across from her.

"Alice is gonna lose all her chips," Ariel sung, pouring more wine into his glass.

Alice looked up at Ollie and held the cards out to him balefully.

"Help?" She asked, arching her lips into an optimistic smile.  

---

The little ones retired first, fatigue taking them off to bed far quicker than it did for the rowdy drunkards who lingered on into the small hours. Wine continued to flow, often to make up for what was spilt or purportedly lost when all knew it had disappeared into the bellies of those inquiring after more. With every glass their noise would rise in level but after a while they began to ail properly themselves and all came to a raucous end when Ariel managed to fall out of his chair despite having been only moments before secure in his seat.

After their laughter subsided, everyone slowly began to trickle off to their respective rooms and it was up to Ollie and Alice to pull their cackling friend up onto his feet again despite the pair of them being inebriated enough to make it a task and a half without Ariel making it purposely difficult for them to catch hold of him by wriggling around the floor. In the end though, Alice managed to get her arm under his and between them she and Ollie managed to get Ariel to his feet, though the look of nausea that rose up through his face did make her think twice about lingering so close to the werewolf.

Ariel kept his stomach and its contents and allowed them to half-haul, half-guide him back upstairs. It wasn’t lost on Alice that only the night before he had done something of the same thing for her albeit she hadn’t been nearly as drunk as he was when he’d done it. She found out his pyjamas, helped get him into them – though they gave up on the trousers and just left him in his boxers – and between them they managed to get him into bed and, as the cliché goes, as soon as his head hit the pillow he was out like a light.

Alice exhaled, bringing the covers up around Ariel and tucking them around him carefully before stepping back to look at Ollie, reaching out instinctively for his hand.

“Snoring,” she lulled at him with a whimsical smile, lacing her fingers with his. “Like a pup!”

Alice yawned then, as though to say that she too would like to do some serious sleeping – certainly enough to sleep off the hangover that would ensue. She knew there would be a pepper-up potion and a sobering potion around somewhere but at the moment in time it didn’t occur to her so she pulled on Ollie before breaking forward, half-falling out of the bedroom in the most lady-like and graceful fashion before swinging herself down the hall into Ollie’s room.

“Bed!” She exclaimed excitedly upon entering. She didn’t know where her coat was. She’d lost that at some point. In the end she had come down to her turtle neck and her little Capri trousers. She shed them, leaving them in a, bizarrely, neat pile by the foot of the bed before bouncing onto it happily with a bright giggle. She turned over onto her belly and crawled down towards the end of the bed where her bag was.

“T-shirt!” She sang, poking her head into the space made by her unzipping the bag. “Where are you?” She stuck her hand in, pulling the shirt she’d called after out with a flourish, rolling back over onto her back and dropping it somewhat successfully, albeit accidentally, onto her face. “Ugh!” She complained in a guttural cry, wiping it off of her face.

“Ollie-Ollie-Ollie!” She exclaimed, sitting up to look at him with excitable eyes. “Can I,” she drew out the sound, her eyes turning in towards her nose, thinking something was there. There wasn’t. She turned her gaze back to him and bobbed up with a grin. “Have a hug?” She finished succinctly.

“Oh, no!” She changed her mind all of a sudden. “I want a cuddle! A biiiiiiggggggg, fat cuddle!” She threw her arms up into the air and they flew past her head, propelling her onto her back, her legs splaying across the bed.

“Did you know?” She said thoughtfully, dropping her hands onto her belly. “I’m not very good at playing cards! You probably knew.” She nodded to herself. “Oh! But you know what? I have a really, really, really, really big scar on my jaw!” She brought her hand to her face, pouting a little. “It’s not very nice.” She sat up again. “But it’s okay!” She decided, plopping her hands down on the bed either side of her.  

“Can you be big spoon?” She asked intently, turning over again, pulling the covers along with her so she was immediately something akin to a Swiss roll, only with an Alice inside. She squealed happily, closing her eyes and reopening them rapidly before unrolling herself, popping up and declaring, “No! I want to be big spoon! You can’t be big spoon Ollie. Wait, no…” she held out her arm against his. “You’ve got bigger arms You’ll give better cuddles, won’t you? You can be big spoon!” She declared, flopping into his arms. “Big spoooooon!”

She smiled again, reaching up to tickle her fingers under his chin. “You’re very pretty, Ollie. Pretty, pretty, pretty Ollie!” She bounced up and squeezed his cheeks, squealing at him as she brought her nose to his. She shook them from side to side, giggling as she went before releasing him. “My lovely, lovely, pretty Oooollieeee!” She cried at him before winding her arms around his neck. She leaned against him, not content until they were in a heap on the bed with her sprawled on top of him. She bobbed up, grinning happily at him. “Hi!” She cooed into his face, pressing their noses together again. “Ollie-Lollie-Nollie-Bollie-Lollie-Mollie-Trolley” She sang gleefully. “Ollieeeeee! Mmmmmuah!” She pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Oh, oh, oh!” She bobbed up so that she was sat more or less on his tummy though half on his hips. “Can we play a game? Please, please, please? I want to play a game! Any game! Just … a game, please? I’ll make sure I cuddle you extra tight when we’re sleepin’ if we came play a game. Can we, can we?”

Life’s a game, and Alice is a drunk.