The roar whipped up around him and Elijah grinned as a surge of satisfaction coursed through him. The woman nearest him through her arms around his neck and muscled in for a sloppy kiss that, once Elijah responded to it, he did not find that unpleasant. She pulled away and beamed, sagging languidly against him. He thanked his lucky stars that he wasn’t stood upright because, like his partner in the drinking challenge, he doubted he would have been able to keep his feet. The said man was currently, no doubt, being hauled off to St. Mungo’s to get him looked at. Elijah was the last one standing and the prestigious winner of a pewter cup bearing the misspelt engravings that proclaimed him the victor. Wasn’t he lucky?
With his arm loose around the silly witch’s waist, he re-joined the conversation he had been stolen from when the brash man had decided that he would win a drinking contest against the deputy minister. Elijah had wanted so desperately to scoff at him and refuse but his mild humour had led him to indulge the man. It had certainly paid off for one of them. As Elijah slid off the barstool and onto his feet, which he wasn’t sure he could feel properly anymore, he knew that it wasn’t his near-comatose friend.
“Do you want to get out of here?” The witch asked, sneaking a kiss to the patch of skin just beneath the shell of his ear.
“Maybe not, sweetheart,” he replied, releasing her with a blithe smile.
Elijah disappeared amongst the crowd, allowing himself to be taken on the wave of music. He had lost Millie, Baldric, and Peter, whom he had arrived with earlier that night. He suspected that Baldric had lost his stamina and returned home, decidedly soberer than the rest of them, to recount the adventure to Ben. Millie and Peter were Merlin only knew where. Contrastingly, the Hogs Head landlord was drunker than he should have been and the witch was entirely ruined. The pair would get home one way or another.
And Elijah? Well, he was on the right side of ruin. If there was such a thing.
He didn’t think there was. Not a chance.
And then of course, he spotted her. He couldn’t tell you how even if he wanted to. It was an accident. A break in the crowd. He just happened to look round after taking another shot and, well, there she was. And there was someone with her who had entirely no right to what he was helping himself to.
Elijah didn’t know why he did it. He supposed it was some sort of misplaced loyalty to James. Perhaps the drink had made him brave. Perhaps it was the fact that the drop was climbing ever closer. Maybe it was just what felt natural. No, it was definitely what felt natural. Drunk or otherwise, he still had some respect left. He wasn’t a teenager anymore.
So, hauling the disgrace of a wizard off of her, he threw him to the floor in a show of strength that wasn’t at all surprising given the width of the Bulgarian man’s frame. The wizard crumpled near to pieces when he hit the floor and he looked up, eyes as wide as that of a deer’s caught in headlights – Elijah couldn’t claim to fully understand the proverb. This was as close as he got.
Leaning down, Elijah hauled him back up by the front of his shirt. The man was quivering like nothing he had ever experienced before. It almost gave Elijah pause. Almost. Then he remembered.
“Touch anyone like that again and I’ll cut off your hands.”
Pulling back his arms, Elijah thrust out suddenly, throwing the man from him. He watched impassively as he stumbled, tumbling over dancers in his effort to gather his feet and scamper away. Elijah hoped that, for his own sake, the man was a quick learner.
“Lily are you alright?”
by 
