like birds of a feather

Shylock sucked the icing from the tip of his finger as he weaved his way through the crowd at the Quidditch Pitch. If he was careful, and he was, he could make this cupcake last the whole game.

Selwyn was around here somewhere, and under other circumstances, Shylock would probably be able to deduce where. Selwyn and Keiran were both former Slytherins so it was only logical that the Professors Team should be changing in the Slytherin locker rooms. But Keiran Hayes was the most un-Slytherin Slytherin that Shylock had ever not-exactly-met. If Shylock didn't know the man's former house, he'd have pegged him for a Gryffindor. That made it difficult to guess where Selwyn was right now. He could be in the Slytherin locker rooms, but he was just as likely to be somewhere else. Hell, from what Shylock gathered, creating entirely new locker rooms specifically so nobody would have a home advantage would be right up Keiran's alley.

Well, it wasn't as though he would puzzle out the answer to this mystery any faster by standing around here. Being the "partner" (eyeroll) of a professor came with perks, and Shylock had a box seat. As he picked up his pace to get up there before the rest of the stadium filled up, he jostled someone passing by.

"Sorry-"

One couldn't go through seven years of education in a place like Hogwarts and not ending up liking Quidditch. Thinking about it that could be said about most anything and it wouldn't be true. History of Magic was still a bore even though it was taught there. Anyone should like it anyway, but Cassabian couldn't find a better place or time for a nap than during that hour in that room. But Quidditch wasn't History of Magic, it wasn't like any of the classes he had taken during all those seven years.

Cassabian was a fan. Not fanatic, just a fan. Of the game, of the teams, whatever. There was just something in watching the matches between teams back in school. Yes, watch. He was more like a supporting watcher than an actually player.

The news of a Quidditch Fundraiser happening in Hogwarts came to his ears while he was working in one of the many shops of Diagon Alley. Ever since he had left the school his levels of adrenaline were basal and just enough for his day-to-day life. Working turned out to be harder than it sounded like in the first place and eventually he had been caught up by a daily routine he had been struggling to get off of. What a better way than go back to Hogwarts even if it wasn't for a couple of hours while the Fundraiser lasted? And perhaps he could get in touch with some of his old friends that he lost contact with eventually as time passed and everyone went on with their lived.

Cassabian arrived just a few minutes before and was walking around looking for a nice spot to watch the game. As a commoner runaway from his parents he would have to be content with a seat in the stands and honestly there was no place better if the drill was to reunite with that part of him that came up here to watch the match. But before he even arrived there he found himself stepping back after a collision with something or someone.

"S-sorry" he was saying stuttering a awfully lot more than usual. Only after he knew who that has been. He was surprised not really expecting to see this persona here. Thinking about it, he didn't know why he hadn't considered that option. "Sh-Shylock! Hi!"

Shylock honestly would've just brushed the person off and kept walking if it hadn't been for Cass' relieved tone breaking through his reverie.

Of course he couldn't just ignore his own brother.  Well, he could.  And he would've, if it had been the other one.  But you couldn't just ignore Cassabian.  He was like a lost puppy.

"Hey," he said, as he turned back from where he'd ended up a few strides ahead.

He bit into his cupcake.  There went any possibility of it lasting him the rest of the game, but it did give him a few precious moments to think.

Under normal circumstances, Shylock would have no problem scalping his own ticket to join Cass in the stands.  God knew he wasn't looking forward to sharing a space with Destrey or Monroe, both of whom would have box seats as well.  But Selwyn was expecting him to be there.  He might even check.  Shylock's thumb traced over the band of metal on his right ring finger.

"I have box seats, if you wanna come up," he offered.

The moment Cassabian decided to leave their parents' place was indeed an act of rebellion against all that they had been put him under for longer than he could remember. He just couldn't stand it any longer and thinking about it deep down he knew it would be just stupid to endure it more than he has already. As his last year in Hogwarts came and he turned to a legal age he left. It took him longer to understand what he was really doing though. Living there, even if tortuous, was secure. At least monetarily... The real world, the outside world was frightening and dark. He knew already that he would have to work, to have a job, to keep a place to stay. And honestly he didn't mind the work; he had been put through too much during his school years to know that there was nothing good coming without effort. But that he was losing the privileges, he was.

It wasn't but then that he realised what that meant. It meant stands instead of boxes.

He shrugged. "Oh! N-no. Don't m-ind me. Don't want to b-bother" he said. But of course his true desire showing up beneath that lawyer of 'I can find myself a seat!'

Shylock's brow furrowed momentarily. He should've known that would be the answer. In some ways, Cassabian was even more of a rebellious spirit than he was. Couldn't do anything the easy way.

"Cass, it's me you're talking to. Your brother?" he reminded him. "I don't do things that are a bother."

He began pulling the remainder of the cupcake apart while he spoke.

"And I don't have the energy to pretend to persuade you, so hurry up and make a decision."

It has been at least three years ever since he left home. Ever since then he hadn't mentioned to go back and no matter how terrible things could be he never would. He would make it through. Somehow...

But he hadn't just left the place he hated so much. He's left those that cared, if not just a bit, like Shy... With so long away from home, one did forget what a brother was. The word came rumbling down to him like a thunder.

"Only i-if you have enough s-space" Cassabian said with a shrug. He had assumed the box would be filled up with whoever Shylock had came to the game with (who would believe he was here alone?) and even so he wasn't yet sure about going.

Shylock shrugged.

"They're box seats," he said. "Of course there's room."

He glanced up from disassembling the cupcake.

"The only other people up there will be the teachers and whoever The Ministry sends," he said.

Cassabian would be able to figure out that meant Monroe, but Shylock didn't know whether he knew Destrey was working as a teacher. According to his quick mental arithmetic, she'd started the year after he finished. Probably he should warn him, but that might make him change his mind.

"Y-ou know what I m-meant" Cassabian said tilting his head giving the impression he was talking serious stuff.

He was not best friends with everyone. And, if that was the case, he didn't desire to be a third wheel... That was always... odd.

Cass shrugged. "But if y-our s-sure, then who am I t-to argue?" he wondered. And truth be told: he was dying to watch the game. It was already kinda close to it so it would be a messy search for an empty spot in the stands and would eventually lose the first few minutes.

Shylock scrunched up his nose. He had no idea what Cassabian was talking about. Not until he said "if you're sure..." and then it dawned. He hadn't realised how used he'd gotten to people knowing his business - a version of it, at least - until someone didn't.

"I'm dating Thorfinn, you dolt," he said, reaching out to lightly punch Cass in the shoulder. "He's playing in the match. How did you think I got box seats?"

It was obvious Cassabian was quite far from the latest updates when it came to... pretty much everything and everyone he lost contact with. It was with a 'oh' that he took in the revelation and he nodded. It made sense.

Cass shrugged his shoulders. "Who k-knows? Y-ou could be h-ere on a Daily P-prophet kind of th-thing."