Rated m for some cussing and a bar fight.



It had been a long day. A long day indeed. And Mark was feeling pretty run down. He needed a shot of Dopamine or something. Anything to spike his mood. Sure, he could use one of the potions in his bag; odds are one of them would make him happy, but he just wasn't in the mood to do that either.

Mark found an old looking pub, and decided to get a drink. He said he wasn't going to drink on Sundays. He really said he wouldn't. But Mark really just wanted a little something. He opened the door to the bar, walking in, his satchel slung around his chest. Mark grumbled to the bar, sitting down in a seat, his arm resting on the bar.

He rubbed his face with his hands before sitting up, and looking at the man that he was now sitting next to. And who else would it be, than Mackenzie MacDonald. The boy who made his Hogwarts years hell. And now, Mark was sitting next to him. He could have left. He could have gotten up and walked out, but to be honest, he didn't have the energy. He just wanted a drink.

Mackenzie was in a good mood, for once.  He didn't really know why, but he didn't question it.  It was like the stars had aligned perfectly on that day, and caused Mack to feel like skipping, even though he wasn't drunk.  Or hungover.  

He had purchased muffins that morning, just for himself, selecting a blueberry one to eat for a quick breakfast.  He had almost nothing to do, but he wanted to get outside, and get a breath of fresh air.  He went outside for a nice stroll in the daylight, forgetting to slip on regular clothing, wearing his pajamas under a trenchcoat due to the cold.  He probably looked like an idiot, with his dishevled hair and small, underlying grin.  And he felt the impulse to have a bit of fun with James, but remembered his friend was busy with something.  His loss.  He was not Mackenzie MacDonald.  He was someone in a better mood.   

Mack wasted the day in Diagon Alley, getting strange looks from strangers all around him, but he didn't care.  He had bought a bit of candy and was knawing at it for a while.   He pocketed the sweets and drifted towards Knockturn Alley, buttoning his coat so his pajamas were invisible underneath.  A dark cloud loomed overhead, threatening to release the rain.  It started as a drizzle, but soon it began to pour.  He ducked into The Black Chimaera for shelter, advancing to a seat and unbuttoning his coat and ignoring the occasional glances again. 

He asked for the bartender to surprise him, and he recieved a glass of white wine.  He thanked them and took a sip of the drink.  It was okay, sort of a bitter edge to it.  He gazed out into the bar, surveying it.  He turned back to his original position, and it wasn't long before he noticed that the seat next to him had been filled by a tired-looking man.  Mark Hunter.  "Hello," he said, being overly polite just to annoy him.

... And Mack was talking to him. Awesome. Mark closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He opened them again, looking over at Mack. "What could you possibly want now? My girlfriend, my best friend, or do you really just want to flush my face in a toilet again?" Mark said, loathing.

He looked back forward, when he signaled with two fingers that he'd like to order. "Whisky, please." He asked. Mark ran a hand through his hair, before crossing his arms on the bar. He was curious to hear what Mack would reply with. Just to see what he could possibly want now. Probably to embarrass Mark some more. Pants-ing him or something equally degrading.

Mark seemed to completely overlook Mackenzie's hair and fashion, despite the fact that he was sure Mark would, knowing how much Mr. Hunter hated him.  He nastily asked what he wanted from him, ordering whiskey.  Mack knew he was literally hated by Mark, so he would do his best to brush off anything mean, or at least pretend to do so. 

  "Nothing like that, just getting a drink, if you don't mind," he smiled, unhurt by Mark's comments.  He was tempted to decline everything he said, save from the swirlies but just wanted to annoy him instead. "Are you sure you can handle Whiskey?" He asked protectively.  Obviously, Mark was picking a strong drink because he had had a bad day, there couldn't have been a better reason.

Mark forcefully placed his fist on the bar. Mack was always making him feel younger, weaker, more insignificant. He whipped his head towards him. "Yes, Mack, yeah, I can handle whisky. I'm kind of a big kid now." He said angrily. Mack was clearly trying to piss him off. Clearly. And it was working.

This was what Mack did. He pushed Mark until his breaking point. But not today. Mark may get fired up, but he wasn't going to blow his top. He wasn't going to blow his top.

Mark was going to blow his stack.  Mackenzie was going to poke and prod until he did.  He wanted to laugh in Mark's face for getting so irritated so fast, but instead said, "Easy there, hotshot, we wouldn't want to lose our temper, would we?" He couldn't help but snicker.  He thought it would infuriate Mark even more, so he didn't worry.  "What did the bar do to you?" He continued, trying to sound as honest as possible but cracking up at the end.  Mr. Hunter was a funny guy, so it was fair.

Mark was stuck. If he calmed down, then Mack would win, but if he lost his temper, Mack would still win. It was a lose lose situation. Mark was unhappy, and now, Mack was really just pissing him off. Mark took a deep breath, and shot a look at Mack. "No, we wouldn't want to lose our temper." He said.

Mack asked him about the bar, before snickering. "Look Mack," he said, looking over at him. "I don't want to talk to you." He turned back to the bar, as the barman brought him a drink. Mark took a sip of the hard whisky, before rubbing his temples.

If Mack gave in and simply ceased teasing, Mark would have what he wanted, And that was not preferred.  So, he struck up a conversation that friends who hadn't seen eachother in a long time would strike, and that was the desired effect.  "So… Where do you find work these days?" He knew what Mark did, but he would pretend to have no clue just to annoy him.  After all, that was his goal.

He didn't want to talk.  But Mack had a few things he didn't want.  He simply said, "Yeah, and I didn't want my parents dead." Pausing for a moment, he added, "Are you beginning to lose your temper, or is it just me?" 

Mark gripped his glass tighter, as he sipped as Mack went on about his dead parents. He always did that. And it only made Mark angrier. But he wasn't going to fight. He had promised Julie he wouldn't fight. And if he had to be physically held back, then so be it. "I am not losing my temper, Mack." He said with a spike at the end. He was losing his temper, but he wasn't an idiot. And he wasn't going to fight.

"And you know plenty well how I make a living. Aren't you going to brag about how your job is better than mine, or how your girlfriend is prettier than mine, or how James likes you better?" He shot. Mark stopped himself. Cool it, Mark. You promised Julie you wouldn't fight. You promised Julie you wouldn't fight. You promised Julie you wouldn't fight.

He turned to Mark, looking him directly in the eye, and muttered, "Hm.  I am pretty sure you're going to lose your temper." It seemed that each time he mentioned that, Mark got more riled up.  The question bouncing off the sides of his head was, how angry would he get?  Mack would surely push Mark's limits, he'd ride the bike until the wheels fell off, then scooch until there was nothing underneath him but concrete.  This was quite fun, seeing Mark steadily throw a fit was entertaining, indeed.  "However, Mark, I'm not here to judge.  We have the law for that.  I know you're special, and I'll respect you for that, honey." Another snicker escaped his mouth.  He was getting good poker face practice.

That was all Mark worried about.  He always thought that Mackenzie was going to go on about his girlfriend or James favoring him over Mark, which was preposterous.  First of all, Mack didn't have a girlfriend, and didn't plan on getting one any time soon.  Second of all, who would like a downer like him?  Jim clearly liked Mark more, simply because he didn't have some kind of negative emotion all the time.  His tone was serious now.  "Mark, listen.  Have you heard anything from James about my girlfriend?  No.  Because I don't have one, ladies' man.  Do you hear him carrying on about how awesome of a day he had with me?  No, because I'm the kind of guy who burns down buildings because I'm angry.  Good job?  No." He waited, then picked something up.  His eyes widened.  In Mark's eyes, he was a dragon keeper, not a criminal!  When he got on a roll, he usually slipped up.

"Oh wah wah. Get over yourself Mack. You are not the one with the worst life. You always, ALWAYS played the sympathy card. If you really wanted a girlfriend, then you could go get one! If you wanted James as a best friend, you'd just lure him away with promises of immaturity and stupidity. Because everything, EVERYTHING I HAD, YOU WANTED!" He shouted. Mark took a deep breath.

"I am just so sick of you." He said, calmer. He wasn't going to fight. He wasn't going to fight.

He blinked, and sighed.  Then grinned.  "Mark, you're right.  You are not losing your temper," he said evenly.  "And, I don't have a family.  You have a mother, a father, a sister, a girlfriend, whatever!  You have no clue what you're talking about," he spat.  "If you must know, James isn't gullible.  He wouldn't - shouldn't fall for that shit.  Are you asking me to do what you've done?"  Now he was mad.  And he was on yet another roll.  "You're right.  I want a mum.  A dad.  Some kind of relative.  I want a friend, Mark.  But I have none!" He huffed.  Somehow, this wasn't fun any more.  "You know what, Mark?  Shut the hell up, because I don't want to hear you whine."

"I. Am. Not. Losing. My. TEMPER!" Mark shouted. "See? this is exactly what I'm talking about. Exactly. You use your pity to make me feel terrible! But then I don't feel terrible because I remember Hogwarts! And then, I feel terrible for not feeling terrible!" Mark rubbed his temples.

"And now that I am finally pissing you off for the first time, possibly ever, I will not shut the hell up. I am not going to be the nice kid I always was because of you. Because in case you haven't noticed, I've changed a little over the years. And I've decided it's about time that arseholes like you don't get to push me around!"

His whisky sat quietly on the bar. "AND IN CASE YOU WERE WONDERING, NO, I HAVE NOT LOST MY TEMPER!" He shouted. Mark shouted so hard, veins seemed to be popping out of his neck.

If Mackenzie wasn't fuming, he'd have laughed his lungs out.  But he was mad, so he only got more angry.  "I don't give a shit.  You don't have to pity me, just stop wallowing in your own pity, hipocrite!" He yelled, spitting a little in Mark's face.  "Do you know what loss is like?  You think you do.  You think you have such a horrible life because you think your friend likes me more.  Get a little perspective, okay?  Oh, yeah.  Do me a favor.  SHUT THE HELL UP!"

"Oh, I see!  You're enjoying yourself somehow because you think being an asshole is funny.  I have a question.  Did you lose your temper, or drink too much?"

"Wallowing in my own pity? WALLOWING IN MY OWN PITY? MY LIFE IS AWESOME! Maybe you haven't realized that. Maybe you haven't. Well. Let me remind you, that I have a gorgeous model girlfriend, a job, a loving family, and a best friend, who sometimes does stupid stuff with stupid people! MY LIFE IS GREAT!" Mark laughed, almost as if he was mad.

"Just because your life sucks does not mean that you can push whoever you want around whenever you want! You think it's hilarious to see the little ravenclaw beg for his crush not to be exposed to everyone. So now, I'm going to laugh at you in misery, because you had done the same."

"No, I am not drunk! And no! I am not losing my temper!"