The Lestrange Manor had become familiar to Julian over the last few weeks, but everything about it now was like entering a fun house. Everyone was dressed so gaudily compared to Julian’s suit and the house was rearranged to accommodate everyone.
The alcohol went down real easy after everything that had passed so far. The games didn’t end, and every minute was only a tighter vice grip against his resolve. It felt as if he had been at this house for hours, and perhaps he had—he had lost track of time anyway. As tempted as he was to return to Hogwarts, he couldn’t bring himself to go yet until he had sufficiently overthought every single fucking moment enough for him to forget it when he went to bed that night.
Julian’s brain played the same scenes over and over again, the same voices echoed in his ears. No amount of whiskey seemed to erase all of the events from that evening and Julian had lost count. For how little he usually drank and how little it took to get him drink, it was more and more difficult to feel all of the alcohol he was drinking.
The rooms were all arranged for smaller parties but there were so many that Julian had no difficulty wandering into one, his breaths ragged and his gaze blank. He walked circles, one hand touching the furniture as if that was the only thing that tethered him to reality. The latest glass of whiskey was placed aside as Julian paced the room. Even if he tried to sleep, there was no reprieve from reality; how the hell was this worse than literally almost dying? His fingers brushed the the desk, the lamps, the chairs—
Finley was a goddamn chair–
Vivienne had been long gone since that night at Malfoy Manor–
they’re just admiring the goods, Roxanne said—
What the hell did he do to deserve this? He had walked into a situation that he had nothing to do with and no amount of preparing would have done him any good. This was reality and Julian’s eyes had been opened to the truth that had been there all along. All he wanted to do was go out and just–end it all, because screw this and screw everyone though he was so sure everyone had already screwed Roxanne–
And Julian was not going to let it get to him, he was not—
He swung his wanded hand upwards, sending the table flying across the room as he roared at the empty room, trying to forget this party but forgetting the open door behind him. He didn’t stop screaming as it landed against the wall, crashing to the ground and splintering as it hit the marble.
Roxanne was getting tired. Her younger self would have been ashamed. Then again, younger Roxanne had a much poorer sense of self and primarily acted out for attention. Present Rox knew her limits-- she knew exactly what she was getting into and did what she wanted when she wanted, thank you very much. Had she had better ideas than blowing American party boys to establish dominance? Sure-- but gone were the nights of going home feeling sick with herself for how she chose to fill the emptiness, and how that emptiness never seemed to subside no matter how much she drank or what activities she kept herself busy with.
At least, that’s what she tried to tell herself. In that moment, the only thing she knew for certain was that her bounce back rate had dwindled over the years. She was out of practice (perhaps mercifully so), and she was looking forward to drowning herself in her comforter as soon as she made it back to her apartment and not dragging herself out of bed until she was good and ready. That had been the plan, and she had begun to excuse herself and extract herself from the tangle of bodies that had swarmed the games circle.
Her mistake had been veering back towards the food, hoping to find some snacks or a stray wine bottle that would compliment the goody bag that would most certainly be accompanying her to bed. She was stuffing an unopened bottle of champagne into her purse that she heard it--the roaring and crashing. Before she knew it she was rushing towards the noise, wand clenched in her fist and heart racing. Not here... not now...
Intoxicated as she may have been, Roxanne was prepared for a fight. However, the closer her heels clicked towards the sounds, the more familiar they seemed. Her heartbeat still pounded in her ears, but as she approached the opened door it became easier and easier to discern just who the familiar voice belonged to.
“Oi-- Wood!” She pulled the volume right from the depths of Weasley hell, a shout she was sure would catch the attention of other lingering partygoers curious about the racket. She shot a glare over her shoulder, shutting the door with a pointed glare at any stragglers before turning her attention back to the drama queen in question.
He had been acting strange all night, fixing her with looks and rolling his eyes at her party antics. It had been a few years since she had been given a true look of Julian Wood disappointment, but something felt distinctly off about his behavior... She had assumed she had just been looking too far into it, forcing herself to ignore his behavior in her continued efforts him (and more importantly, herself) space, but she couldn’t ignore such a temper tantrum if she tried. Roxanne might have anticipated something like this from his brother, but Julian? It was unsettling, but she couldn’t just leave him to make a fool of himself, could she?
“I expected better of you, professor... table flipping is so last year.”
