Alcohol and Bandages || Regulus & Ted
Ted had never been much of a drinker, even back in Hogwarts when all of his mates started trying out alcohol, sneaking them into parties in their sixth and seventh years. He’d just never felt the need for them to have a good time, but he was slowly starting to learn that alcohol was incredibly useful as a temporary relaxant.
That being said, he knew it was still strange for him to find himself sitting alone in a pub, sipping at his drink of choice, just…thinking. He normally preferred to surround himself with the people he loved, most of whom were members of the Order, but right now, something heavy was weighing him down and he didn’t know who to talk to.
Damn Sirius. Damn him and damn those Death Eaters and damn all that blood. He could wash the color off of his hands but god, he thought he could still smell it. Could still hear that skull cracking open against the wooden table.
The whiskey burned in his throat, probably because he was taking too much down at once. Because he didn’t drink often enough to be used to the taste quite yet. He looked up, about to call for the bartender again, when across the counter, he saw a face he recognized. What was it with him and running into every bloody member of the Black family whenever he was out? Damn that Regulus Black. They made brief eye contact, before Ted tore his eyes away.
Then it happened again, and Ted just knew they were going to end up in a bad place tonight.
Regulus was tired. He and Rabastan had spent what felt like days interrogating a witness that knew absolutely nothing. He supposed it was his fault for not planning things out better, but it was also Rabastan's fault for not knowing when to give up. Honestly, the man took far too much pleasure in it all for Regulus' tastes.
He wanted to go home and sleep, but home hadn't felt like home recently. Tensions were strained in the Black household, and it just added to the already large amount of weight on Regulus' shoulders. So he went out drinking instead.
He'd never really understood the point of drinking before the war. He didn't have anything he needed to avoid or forget. He'd never once snuck alcohol into the castle, and didn't care to drink it when others had. But things were different now, weren't they? There were countless memories he'd like to forget, things he wanted to pretend never happened. So here he was, sitting in a grimy bar, wiping his glass down with a napkin and wishing he were asleep.
He glanced up when he felt someone looking at him, and was met with someone familiar. He couldn't quite place him, the man sitting across the bar, but he was familiar nonetheless. He frowned as the man hurriedly looked away. Probably not another Death Eater then.
He realized he'd been staring and started to look away when the man looked up at him again. Then the face clicked. Ted Tonks, his cousin's latest play-thing. His frown turned into a scowl and he took a drink. Before he knew what was happening his mouth was open and he could hear himself speaking. He definitely hadn't meant to do that.
"I'd like to enjoy my drink without you staring at me if you don't mind."
