Standing in the long queue outside of Spellpunk, Abby was secretly grateful her sister had made her grab a short, stylish cape before heading out for the evening. The weather had dipped a bit this early October, and the skirt she wore did little to keep her legs warm. Still, she was excited to be out, and that more than made up for a few goosebumps. Abby was in Diagon Alley on a Friday night, the first night of the Hogsmeade weekend! She almost felt like a normal teenager.

Jacoba Schlagenweit was supposed to meet her here. Neither of them had ever been in the club, and they'd decided they had to try it after meeting each other last weekend during the First Task. Though Abby was somewhat surprised that Sasha's older sister would want to hang out with a sixteen-year old (almost seventeen!), she was not going to turn down an invitation to party!

Spellpunk was nestled between two other shops, the only thing distinguishing it from other stores being the iron lift that creaked as it disappeared into the ground. Abby glanced around every once in a while for Jacoba, listening to the creaking lift and the chatter of the teenagers, and noticing that many were holding wands. An age check below, perhaps? Abby hoped not. When she finally caught a glimpse of one of the signs in the windows, the carefree, happy expression fell from her face.

No shirt, no shoes, no magic = No entry.

Show off your magic to get in the door tonight! The fancier, the better![1]

1.	Fancy, not disastrous. Those who blow up Spellpunk will be subject to fines and shunning

Abby whipped out her cell phone, ignored the strange looks, and thumb-jabbed 'FML' to Jacoba before the screen went blank. Of course. Her phone didn't work here, not with all the wand-waving and spark showering.

As she neared the entrance of the club, she had to make a decision - wait for Jacoba, see if Jacoba was inside, or try to get in by herself. The group of teenagers in front started flitting off to the lift, and Abby impulsively followed on their heels, until a bouncer stopped her. She smiled big, glanced around. She grabbed the arm of a random tall bloke with messy hair.

"I'm with him!"

Abby stood on her tiptoes to whisper in his ear, "Go on. Do something magic-y!"

Boggin' hell, it was freezing t'night.

It was normal for Roger to begin his days in the evening, waking at the sun set and starting whatever job he had that night, tending bar for some muggle club or whatnot. But as the angels would have it, pickings were scarce this week and the squib had rolled into Friday with nary a whisper of work for your average drifter.

Still, he weren't gonna waste time moping 'bout Londontown. Better wizards in Diagon than muggles in Camden-- and so Diagon was precisely where he found himself when it was dark and chilly. The boy dug his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket as he sauntered down the alley, a slowly burning ciggy between his bruised lips and a slight limp to the way he walked. Someday he knew he was gonna hurt his leg so bad that even magic wouldn't be able to fix the bloody thing.

Spellpunk was hoppin' the way it did whenever the weekend jumped into being, drawing magic folk into its underground mysteries with some social allure that Roger never really understood. Not his crowd, not his people. His people. He snorted to himself while he approached the throngs of chattering youths lining up to get into the elevator blocked by the bulky bouncers.

Roger lifted his gaze, slowing as he passed them by until he came to a halt behind the ragtag queue. Some blonde quine was infront of him but he ignored her, peering through the crowd towards the entrance. What did they serve down there? He'd been in a wizarding pub before... liquors cannae be that off, he thought and pushed his lower lip out thoughtfully.

Without really consciously deciding to go ahead, he found himself following the line of people; he let himself do this, driven partly by curiousity. The crowd was 'round his age. Just fresh out of school, wee wizards who thought they'd learned all there was to know 'bout life. What a fuckin' jo--

"I'm with him!" The girl a li'l infront of him had grabbed ahold of his arm and Roger stared at her in surprise, cigarette nearly dropping from his mouth. He quickly caught his joint and glanced at the bouncers with a hesitant expression. They weren't much taller than him but it wasn't their physical skill he'd have trouble with. "Go on. Do something magic-y!" The blonde was urging him.

Well, shit. His eyes darted to the sign, taking it in rapidly, and then shot back to the wizards infront of the elevator. "Magic-y..." Roger swallowed, taking a step back and unconsciously pulling her back with him. "Would need a wand f'that, wouldn't I, luv?" Did the lass forget hers?

"Y'blokes wouldn't mind if we skipped the song and dance, would ye? Left me wand back home, y'know." He raised his eyebrows in a friendly, joshing expression. "A li'l unnecessary, ain't it?" Of course he knew the answer to that but he didn't want to... he couldn't just say he was a squib. One of the bouncers smirked down at the pair, shaking his head like he was God effin' almighty.

And he might've well have been, for all the control Roger had over this situation. He glanced at the witch who'd grabbed him and shrugged, trying to be as casual as he could. "Guessing ye don't know any wandless magic, eh?" Why any witch or wizard would leave home without their wand was beyond him but he'd never had to keep track of one.

Abby blinked at the stranger she'd just latched onto. Why wasn't he helping? Maybe he wanted to stand out here and finish his gross cigarette. Maybe he didn't want to go into the pub with her. But she was cute! Or at least she hoped so.

"Nope, no wandless magic," she wiggled her fingers in the air, then looked back at the stubborn bouncer.

"You don't normally ask people to cast stuff before letting them in, right? I know it's an event," she waved her hand flippantly. "But you check people below and let them pay there, don't you? I have the entrance fee on me. For two," she glanced at the guy, undecided as to whether he'd be a help or hindrance. Still, free admission might motivate him to use the wand he must be hiding somewhere.

"Please! At least we're not blowing anything up!"

The bouncer squinted at her and asked if she was over fifteen. Her cheeks flushed. Even a first-year could cast Lumos.

"Yes!" She rifled through her purse as those standing in the line behind her grew restless. "Look-" Abby pulled out a small Ministry ID card and waved it in front of the bouncer's face. Ministry interns were typically older teenagers. The ID had been specially made for her when she'd started her internship at the Muggle Affairs office, since she had no wand to prove her credibility.

He peered at the card, brow furrowing. Then he burst out laughing, and she caught some words like 'points' and 'creativity'.

"Oh, come on!" Abby protested, glancing at the boy next to her.

As someone who'd been in his fair share o'fights, Roger knew when he was up against a losing battle: and this was shaping up to exactly one of those.

These bouncers weren't budging. He sighed heatedly, turning around to give some of the other kids in line a self-conscious peer before glancing back. They were being stared at now. Making a bloody scene. And what was with this ditzy quine? She weren't making this any easier.

Roger would've stood a better chance of slipping into Spellpunk if she hadn't pulled him into this. He knew how to blend with a crowd. The girl was waving some kinda card at the wizards and he frowned his brow skeptically at her, about to say something when the bouncers broke into their hyena cackles.

Oh for fuck's sake.  "Oh, come on!" The blonde called out, echoing his own sentiment and Roger promptly decided that he didn't like the stares burning into his back (imagined or not).

"Give it up luv," he tugged back the arm she'd grabbed and took ahold of hers instead. "Ye couldn't get into a library with a piece of paper like that." This only made the wizards laugh a li'l harder. The squib set his jaw into a tense expression: "Sorry t'be a bother, boys..."

Which was a lie. Knick their wands, he bet he could've shown 'em what a pair of soddin' babies they were. Roger tried pulling the witch aside before anyone in the queue started hollering. "How 'bout we go on back and find ourselves me wand, luv? Night's still young, y'know."

Whatever it took to get her to stop causing a fuss.

Abby was just about to launch into some fake sob story about losing her wand when she felt the tug on her arm and heard the stranger's joke about the library. That was - oh hell! It was like he was on their side! She should have waited for Jacoba.

Her eyes widened at his next comment, and more laughter erupted around them. She shot Mr. Tall, Tousled, and Unhelpful an accusatory look, slipping out of his grip and stepping back from the crowd. Other teenagers had already started weaving around the pair, eager to show off their magic to the bouncers by the lift.

"Thanks a lot," she scowl-pouted at him, then quickly glanced away. "And I'm not finding your 'wand' for you. Try a Hufflepuff."

She turned on her phone and pretended to focus all of her attention on it, not caring if she got strange looks, because it couldn't be worse than the humiliating scene that had just happened. All she'd wanted was to make it into the club and have a good time, but now, she'd probably ruined both her and Jacoba's chances. If she got in the queue a second time, the bouncers would just laugh again.  But she didn't want to wait here. She couldn't even ring Aileen, because her very pureblooded sister had no phone, and the time they'd set for her to take her home was hours away.

The mobile's screen went white, then went black. Then a static crackle sounded. "Crap! Don't you break!" Abby scolded it, lapsing into wizarding logic where devices talked back.

Bloody murder, did he just say that?

Roger winced as soon as he'd noted his poorly-phrased suggestion, cackling bouncers not exactly helping. The slap he was expecting never came though he couldn't help but feel a li'l guilty when the girl tugged away with an expression he'd seen on his sisters before. Usually meant he was being a jerk again.

That was when she took out a mobile and he did a double take. Boppy teens and young adults were streaming past towards the elevator, some of 'em throwing curious glances at the pair. Roger ignored them as he watched, almost dazed, as his new friend swore at the metal casing, shitty piece of muggle technology-- things like that never worked here.

"You're not a muggle, are ye?" he asked without thinking, taking a drag of his ciggy and then pulling it away. A wisp of smoke trailed from his lips as they suddenly twitched into a hesitant, incredulous smile. As soon as the question was in the air, it hit him. Only a rotten, magicless brat would rely on muggle crap.

Not that he and his motorcycle were that much different but he ain't ever decided to drive the thing into Diagon.

Roger peered down at her and then glanced around a bit surreptitiously before shooting off his mouth again. "Ye... I mean, you. You ain't a... a squib are you?" His accent lightened a little now that he was being careful about what he was saying. Didn't want the bird flitting away.

At his first question, Abby gave him a startled look, dropping her phone into her purse and crossing her arms. He had a nice smile. But at the moment, everything sounded like a threat. She took a deep breath, inhaled the smoke in the air, and coughed into her hand.

She just wasn't thinking straight tonight. The little things had added up and snowballed until she found herself stuck with a phone that was on the fritz, no Jacoba in sight, and a crowd that was so focused on the pub that she couldn't imagine them caring much if the bloke started bothering her.

At his second question, she tensed up, and couldn't quite meet his eyes. "Muggles can't get into Diagon," she answered crossly. "This isn't exactly squib-central, either. I needed to get a hold of a friend, ok? She's going to be meeting me here soon."

Abby gave him an insincere grin, "Haven't you had enough fun? You'll find more girls in there," she pointed at the pub. "Ones that have wands and can help you find yours, too!"

Roger Lemon clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth twice, his tentative li'l smile breaking into a knowing grin the moment the lass got frigid at the mention of that word: squib. Aye. Meeting a friend, maybe. Using a mobile?

Talkin' to him like he didn't know wizards. Not even mudbloods would try to make a call in the Alley, that shit was hammered into their mindless li'l brains since the day they first barrelled through the platform barrier. Now... some'un new to mobiles, that was a different yarn.

He eyed the girl with a playful glimmer in his eye-- not realizing that, to a defenceless kid on a strange night, this wasn't a very reassuring expression.

"Haven't you had enough fun?" she pointed at the club: "You'll find more girls in there. Ones that have wands and can help you find yours, too!"

Not all that defenceless. Roger looked away from her abruptly, laughing. "Fuckin' hell," he blurted out between laughs as he turned back to her: "Ye got some pluck for a wandless quine." A few more glances were shot their way but people were paying less attention now. Just a pair of minors, fooling around.

"Don't ye worry 'bout me though, luv..." the boy dropped his grin, sobering up minutely to take another drag from his cig. "Wouldn't know what to do with me wand even if I had one."

He blew a thin veil of smoke in the girl's direction, winking cheekily at her. "Our li'l secret, ain't it?" Roger muttered with more mettle than he felt. "Two squibs and not a single fuckin' magic trick between us."

"What? You're-" She cut herself off, staring at him with open confusion. She didn't scoff or gloat at his confession, or any of the typical reactions some people had when finding out a person was a squib.

What were the chances? It was more likely that he was actually a wizard, and having a grand time making fun of her tonight. Still, it made little sense to stand out here when there were plenty of girls he could pick up inside Spellpunk. Like she'd so charmingly told him.

She slapped on another smile and stuck her hands in the pockets of her cape. "Well, that figures," she glanced at the bouncers. The crowd paid little attention to the two teens loitering on the pavement.

"Not much of a secret anymore, huh? Stealthy Abby, that's me."

Now who was he? All she knew was that he had an easy laugh and spouted more curse words than she'd heard in a year.

"Did you actually want to get into the club, or did I ruin your plans by latching onto you? Because it looked like you were having a lovely time with the lurking and the brooding and the-" she waved her hand in the air to dispel the smoke. "And all," she teased.

At least he wasn't leering or cackling, or doing anything too suspicious. She'd play along for now!

Stealthy Abby...

Roger cocked an eyebrow at her, sticking his ciggy back between smiling lips and looking the girl over. He knew the squibs 'round here. Tilly and Jacoba and the rest of 'em. Never heard of an Abby, 'less it flew by his ears without him noticing. Name like that was common enough.

He shook his head at the question, burying hands into his jacket pockets as the numbing chill crept up his fingers. Whatever they did now, he wanted out of the bloody cold.

"Nah, didn't ruin nothin'. I was curious," Roger shrugged. "Got me a few shifts at some pubs, wanted to see how they run 'em downstairs." He paused to examine the alley floor for a moment, breathing out an icy mist. Abby didn't look like the kinda lass who'd understand what he meant by that.

The way she dressed, talked, that wasn't his crowd. Not that he ever let that stop him. The squib glanced back up and offerred a hand. "Roger," he muttered almost diffidently. "Haven't see ye around before."

"I could prolly still get us inside..." he shot the Spellpunk elevator a look. "If ye still want to, I mean."

True to form, at 'downstairs', Abby glanced at the spiral staircase leading below. If he served drinks, he must be a bit older than she was. She wondered if he might be willing to take her on a tour of muggle pubs sometime, or whatever places he worked at.

She gave his hand a light shake. Cold fingers! Roger... she tilted her head at him, unable to recall him either. They didn't run in the same circles. Just the fact that he might be a squib fascinated her, despite any differences between them.

"I don't get out to the pubs very much," she admitted with a shrug. Too young, too much of a squib, and no one to go with. "'Cause clearly I'm too much fun for them," Abby joked, glancing at the bouncers by the lift.

"Could you?" She shot him her first genuine grin of the night. "Jacoba might be in there already - the friend I'm waiting for. I can't remember if we said to meet out here or inside. But she might have better luck with Goon One and Goon Two than I did!"

The lass knew Jacoba! Roger's eyes lit up at the mention of his handy friend and he jumped on the name like a robber to a train. Any reservations about her being a mobile-tolling li'l brat evaporated in a blink.

"Bloody hell, ye know Jacoba?" he was getting a pretty good idea 'bout the kinda blood Abby came from. "Didn't even know she liked Spellpunk."

There was prolly a lot that he didn't know about his friends, or at least a lot that didn't remember. If they ever told him anything there was a good chance it disappeared that same night down a bottle of cheap ale. Roger pulled away his cigarette, now barely burning, and dropped it to the ground.

He stubbed it out with the heel of his boot. "I'll get us in, luv. Just give me a second..." the squib turned to look over his shoulder at the two bouncers by the elevator. His gaze narrowed at the one on the left and then quickly moved on to the one on the right. At least one of 'em, he thought.

Cracked lips, tired and bloodshot eyes. Lethargic movements and that nervous twitch of the shoulder.

"Goon Two is a user," Roger muttered and glanced back to Abby. "Gillyweed or summat. Could talk us in, I know me a few dealers." He didn't want to let on that he sometimes was one, 'course. The girl was nice but that kinda info was dangerous. Not like he did it all the time anyway.

Roger's lips twitched into another smile. "All ye have to do is play along wi' me and pray ol' Jacoba is downstairs."

Abby's face brightened at his reaction to Jacoba. Any reservations about trusting this bloke evaporated, and she relaxed, seeing him in a less dodgy light.

As he sussed out the bouncers, Abby told him she'd met Jacoba at the tournament, and that neither of them had been to Spellpunk before. Somehow she didn't see Spellpunk being his usual haunt either. She also coudn't imagine him sitting in the bleachers at the First Task, cheering on younger kids.

Her eyebrows lifted when he told her he knew dealers, and she glanced at Goon Two. "How can you-"

Abby shook off the question and quickly returned his smile. "I'm game!"

He looked cuter when he didn't have a cigarette dangling from his mouth.

So she knew Jacoba from the tournament at Hogwarts; that sounded 'bout right. His sisters had told him about family going to visit and cheer on the champions... bloody good thing neither of 'em were old enough to participate. Mum would have 'erself a heart attack.

"I'm game!" Abby's consent was all he needed to get going. Couldn't drag 'er in without a heads up, could he?

Roger's smile widened into a toothy grin and he grabbed her by the hand. "Just smile and nod, darlin'..." the squib gave her a quick wink before turning around and drawing the both of them back to the bouncers at the elevator, right after another group of peppy wizards had gone in the elevator.

Perfect timing. "You again," one of the men sneered just as Roger began to speak; he addressed the second bloke, ignoring Goon One with as much tact as he could muster (which wasn't much). They got a good laugh from before and neither of 'em looked irritated.

"Listen, mate. Me girl and I 'ere," Roger indicated the arm he'd joined with Abby's, feigning a sort of affection. "We've been looking forward t'this all night. I cannae show ye any magic without me wand but..." he trailed off and then, almost like magic, pulled a card out of thin air with his free hand. "I can get ye something be'er for less coin, if ye catch me drift."

Goon Two narrowed his red-eyed gaze at the pair of 'em and snatched the card out from his hand. It was a plain white card with a single word printed neatly on the front (Lemon) and a muggle number on the back.

"Y'know I'm good for it, me name's been 'round the 'ere before. Pretty sure it was your fuckin' barhand who gave me a black eye last month, the ugly bastard."

There was nervous pause as the bouncer glared at the card, his partner peering over to do the same. Roger looked between the two, squeezing Abby's hand a little. And then, abruptly, Goon Two snorted. "He is an ugly bastard, isn't he?" there was an entertained, self-amused tone to his voice. The burly wizard pocketed Roger's card and jerked his head in the direction of the stairwell to the side. "Down there, I'll cast off the wards-- and hey. I'll be in touch with you, kid."

"I'll look forward to it." As if he needed a reminder. Roger flashed the two wizards an easygoing grin. "Thank ye, boys!" he pulled on Abby's arm a little, glancing at her briefly. "From the both of us, am I right luv?"

Smile and nod. She could do that. Abby followed Roger's lead, plastering on a big smile that kept faltering whenever the goons looked disgruntled or confused (which was every few seconds), and then smiling again when they glanced at her. She glanced at Roger often, uncertain what he meant by his name being around before, but not about to question it when he was her ticket into the club.

Adventure? Count her in! Over the course of the year she'd accidentally caused mummies to rise in the museum, sneaked into a tomb and met a ghost, and let Naomi check out an ancient cursed artifact her sister had hidden. Though Abby had vowed to be more careful after the tomb incident, trying to get into a club she was supposed to be in anyway was small potatoes in comparison.

Oh Merlin! He'd just squeezed her hand! Abby tried not to act too much like a girl who'd never had her hand held before. She resisted a giggle but kept grinning like a fool; luckily it fit the image of ditzy girlfriend well.

Keep in touch sounded slightly ominous, but surely Roger knew what he was doing.

"Yeah! Thanks!" She added quickly. "Keep up the good work!"

She heard a snort as they went down the stairs. Once they were out of sight, Abby let go of his hand, lifting up her fingers one by one and then slowly letting it drop, as if she were on ice skates and relucant to pull away from the railing.

"That was brill! You were all," she mimed handing the card with a flourish. "And he was all," she mimed the furrowed brow. "And then we got in! Whoo! I owe you."

They followed a group of teenagers into the large, domed underground room, where vibrant colors and noise bounced off the glass walls.

"So how do you know Jacoba?" Abby raised her voice, looking up at him with a smile. "Is there a cool kids club I'm missing out on?"