#hy:

[an-oxysunrise-blog]

do it now, remember it later || flashback

Ira couldn't remember the last time he'd tipped back enough cups to make the world fuzz over, if he'd ever had before. It was common knowledge for most that the Ravenclaw couldn't hold his liquor well, and to handle a drunken Ira was more dangerous than handling a landmine with your bare hands. One wrong move, and it'll explode.

Running his finger along the rim of his cup, he glances up at his new companion with a smile. Godric, he still couldn't get over the fact that they came dressed as Scorpius. Creativity and cruelty at it's finest. Should Ira care? He should, shouldn't he?

Hell if he knew.

So.. What were we talking about?

[badgerbottom-blog]

It had always been these sorts of assignments that had done Frank more harm than good, that had knotted up his stomach and made him feel sick. He didn't like hexes, or even jinxes for that matter. He'd never been able to muster up the intent to harm that most required, and that only ever resulted in a scolding from his professor. Oh, this didn't bode well, but at least there was a thread of recognition connecting him to his partner–– somehow that made him a little less nervous. He approached the blonde with an anxious smile, fingers itching to tug on his own cerulean curls. Oh, Godric, he could only hope that he'd hold himself together enough to remember not to let his tics show.. "...Uhmm... Hi. You're Scorpius, right..? Aren't you one of Lou's friends..?"

[ofremembralls-blog]

Alihan..Bayar.. That was who he was to be dueling.. or rather, practicing on. No fights, Albus reminded himself. The last thing he needed was another reason for the school nurse to send another letter home, a letter that would only prompt a halfhearted scolding in response. Again. Didn't need to remember just how much more fucked up things were getting back home. Alihan... Bayar? The name rung in his hears, setting faint sparks off in his memory–– but for the life of him, he couldn't connect the name to a face. "..Alihan Bayar. What th'fuck kinda name is that?"

[frankable]

Shock to Your System | Albus & Frank.

Alright, so maybe post-Quidditch practice really wasn't the best time to go talk to his best friend's little brother, but Frank had never won any awards for his quick-thinking skills. Maybe it really wasn't the best time to run after that mop of dark hair that he'd know even if asleep, what with him still being in his blue-and-bronze uniform, drenched in a cocktail of sweat, water, and the nutty-smelling broom oil he'd accidentally spilt on his leg. Or maybe, given all the circumstances possible, it was the best time.

Honestly, he'd meant to go talk to Albus after what had happened to his bed in the dormitories, but the parties had so quickly taken up precedence and attention, making it impossible to get a word in edgewise about anything other than their preparation.

                                  Crap, he was beginning to get away. 

"Albus! Albuquerque! Albus Potter! Albus! It's– It's me! It's Frank Longbottom! It's Frank, slow down!"

A hand on the shoulder of the person in front of him, and he spun the body around to be greeted with the freaked out scowl–––––– that didn't belong to Albus. That wasn't Albus. That... That was a girl. "...........I am so sorry."

The Ravenclaw sheepishly released the disgruntled fifth year and continued his search.

[james-not-so-sirius-potter-blog]

do it now, remember it later || frank & james

Whatever other words that were hanging off the tip of his tongue, bittersweet, pleading words to snap Frank from whatever strange reality he was stuffed within, a reality where he believed that James would rather look over his shoulder than into his eyes, were forced back his throat by a pair of burning, burning lips that were crashing against his own. Crashing, blazing, insistent on conveying some strange emotion, some blurred meaning that one with a brain as alcohol sheened and hazy as James’ could not decipher, the rough brims robbed the eldest Potter of his breath and his pulse of it’s beat. He didn’t understand why his hands were yanking the sculpted jaw closer to him, he didn’t understand why his leg hikes up over the clothed hip, he didn’t understand why something that should feel so wrong felt so right.

Was it the alcohol moving for him?

Was it his giving into Frank’s actions?

Whatever it was, he thought as he presses closer and closer, his own lips moving hungrily over the blond’s, it wasn’t important to him—What was, was that those were Frank’s lips on his..

[frankable]

Ashes, Dust, Smoke | Frank & Albus

Each step he took down the descending, spiralling staircase felt heavy with tension, with anxiety. Each step pulled him closer to the dungeons, closer to the chill that never seemed to go away, closer to the dorm of his best friend's little brother. Ever since the  nightmare he'd had, Frank felt the burning need to check up on him, to make sure that he was okay. Even the thought of the bad dream that had left him feverish and sweating bullets made him nervous, his mind flashing back to images of cloaked figures beating his friend bloody, of Albus disappearing and being frightened, terrorised, and alone. 

When he finally reached the Slytherin common room, when he finally read out the password from the slip of parchment he'd begged off another students, he had to steel himself. Frank had half a mind to turn back and just forget it. This was weird, wasn't it? This was weird. After an embarrassingly long time spent standing stock-still in the entrance of the snake den, he turned back towards the door. Unfortunately, that was the act that brought him face to face with the guy he'd only just then decided not to see. "Oh- uh.. Albus. Fancy seeing you here."