Tina was at work, he didn't have work until tonight, it was going to be clear and beautiful, marvelous conditions for star gazing and making starmaps with Mr.Pickering. He had wanted to get into contact with the Hogwarts Astronomy Professor and see if he could do a demonstration for the classes. Wizards had difficulty with the vastness of the universe. Especially purebloods, they think magic is the only thing in the world. He was drafting a letter to Tapendra Trishna, trying to phrase it rudely. He always had a problem writing anything without offending people, he had to keep it professional.

He took a light sip of butterbeer, he had been taking it easy on ze beverage for the past few weeks due to Halloween and the days that followed, he still had to figure out how to tell Tina how he had kissed Julie. He didn't know how she would take it, would she be upset and cry? Would she be angry and leave him? These thoughts raced through his head like a cat after a mouse.

He took a trembling sip of from his small glass. He placed the cup down and continued his letter, but unable to concentrate, Jim, pulled a pack of cards from a kitchen drawer. He began playing a round of solitare, Vegas Draw, cheating a few times, no one was watching, what would it matter? No one was watching. He took a steadier gulp of his drink. He went to his fridge to get some cheese to make a sandwich with the Italian rolls he had bought a few days ago, not stale enough to be useless. He used a large bread knife to cut the roll. An urgent fist rapped on the door.

Jim was already mentally on edge. Also, no one visited his apartment but an elderly wizard yelling at him for playing music too loud. He flung the knife in a tense fear. He sidled up to the door and looked through the peep-hole. Mackenzie MacDonald, what the hell was he doing here? James whipped to door open, no longer afraid, no longer worrying worrying about not keeping the bread knife in his hand, instead of having it lay, useless on the kitchen floor.

"Mack?" James struggled with the chain on his door, closing it again to undo the pin. "What are you doing here?" He said, once the door was open again.

Mackenzie was now tired, chilled to the bone, and quite worried.  Mark's bleeding had almost stopped -  thank goodness - and Mack had taken his unconscience enemy to his flat for a bit to clean him up, bandaging his head with an urgent sloppiness and rushing out the door, although he was impeded by Mark.  He had forgotten his overcoat once again, so nothing was on his coatrack.  He went outside, half naked, once again. 

He decided the best decision was to head over to Jim's place, despite that James would most likely murder him in cold blood.  Or worse, alert the police.  The Ministry would be on top of him like a 2-ton weight dropped from a 2-story building, and he'd be thrown in Azkaban for life, and then some.

He finally reached the door, breathless and freezing cold.  He could've sworn ice had formed on his eyebrows and hair.  Mackenzie knocked on the door quickly and urgently, although he'd need to explain himself.  James opened the door, questioning Mack.  "Uh… long story, yeah?  I'll explain in a moment," he said quietly.  He bent down, dragging Mark in.  "Please don't kill me," he pleaded.

"Kill you for wha-..." James watched as Mack let himself in, dragging a body behind him. It took him a moment to realize that the body belonged to Mark Hunter, but smothered in blood and very wet from the rain outdoors. Jim couldn't even tell where the blood was coming from, his head maybe? "Wha- Yo- Hea- Blo- HOW? WHY? MARK!?! GAH! WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED?" Jim knew that Mack and Mark were never really simpatico towards each other, but Mack didn't have to go and wallop Mark until he DIED.

Jim looked at the two other people in his apartment. One wasn't wearing a shirt because it was on the others head and the other one wasn't conscious because the other one had knocked his lights out, no, Mack shattered the light bulb and stuck it into Mark's head. James could see the glass shards littering Hunter's hair.

The confused man shuffled around before rushing to Mark and taking him by the armpits and laying him down, flat on the wooden floors, Tina would have a conniption is she saw blood on the couch. He had seen Mark out before, but there weren't as many...bodily fluids everywhere. Should he call Julie? No, he didn't want to see Julie, or think of her, or make her worry, or let Tina see Julie or whatever.

"You killed him! Why would you do that? I know your a vandal, but you MURDERED someone! Mark Hunter, HIM!" James yelled, rushing around to grab his wand and medical spell book. He grabbed gauze and band-aids from the bathroom, the first-aid kit sure got a lot of use in his apartment. Him, Tina, Mark, random dogs he would pick up on the side of the road, because Jim felt bad.

"Also, why the hell didn't you take him to St. Mungos!?!?!" James shook Mackenzie's shoulders. He dropped down to Mark, using his wand to pull the slivers of glass out of his friends skull. "Don't just stand there you nincompoop! Make your self useful, go turn yourself in!"

He tried to get Mark to respond to anything. "Mark? Buddy? Pal? Can you hear me? You okay?" He continued to encant on Mark's wounds, talking to him as he checked his breathing and his heart rate, he would need a professional healer from St.Mungos for the finer details. "Mark? Come on Markie, gotta get up now."

Mackenzie could only watch as Jim ran around, freaking out and misinterpreting the situation and throwing around accusations.  He thought Mark was dead.  Well, Mackenzie had that effect on people.  "James…" He tried to get his attention, sheepishly calling his name.  "James…" That man was freaking out.  "James!" He yelled now, but he still couldn't get his attention.  "GOD DAMNIT JAMES, WILL YOU LISTEN!?" He screamed at the top of his lungs, sure that would draw attention. 

 "James, he's not dead," he began.  "We got into a fight at the Chimaera and I got the upper hand," he was a but nervous to continue his tale, afraid James would really kill him.  "He got annoyed, to say the least, and threatened to murder me painfully.  And what to you do?  Defend yourself.  In the end, I ended up… Hitting him as hard as I could with a beer bottle," he finished, taking a deep sigh of relief.  Now, that was off his chest.

Mark was still out cold, as he felt the glass being slowly slid out of his head. For as much as he knew, he was bleeding out still on the bar floor. There was yelling. People were yelling. Oh god, was he dying? Was this heaven? Were people arguing about wether or not to let him into heaven?

Mark moved his head a little, letting out a groan, as he found inner turmoil as he listened to what he thought was people arguing about him and heaven. But he didn't want to die! He had so much to live for! So much he still wanted to do! He couldn't die now!

Jim turned his head angrily. "What Mack?" He listened to Mackenzie explain the bar scenario when  Mark moaned. "Mack, shut up!" James watched Mark's face, there was a twitch of animation. "Get the hell out Mack, just...leave, this never happened, just...get out." James turned away from MacDonald to tend to Mark. He pulled him into a sitting position, and ran to his wardrobe to get the clothes he had borrowed from Mark less than a month before. He had made fun of him then for his chubby period during 5th year.

"Mark?" The full effect of Mark being injured hit him like being trampled by a moody rampaging elephant. Tears sprung to Jim's eyes. He tried to wipe them away, but they pushed past his fingers and marched down his cheeks and parachuted down onto his shirt, splotted with blood. James would need new shirts after this month. He pulled everything off of Mark, pulling his own t-shirt, sweater and socks. The pants he left. he grabbed a pile of towels and blankets, feeling Mark's freezing skin. He placed towel after towel after towel onto the sofa.

He carried his friend, they had been best friends for nine years now, to the sofa, where he wrapped him in different textured blankets, tossing the quilt Annette had made him for his birthday, two years ago, on top. He sat on the coffee table. "Mark, come on man, you gotta wake up, we have to take Alice and Annette to go get Potion ingredients." He hoped familiar words and names would help Hunter regain consciousness.

Mackenzie burrowed his head in his hands, just wanting to escape the predicament, but he knew he couldn't leave.  He felt like an asshole, and the feeling only worsened when he saw the look of desperation on James's face, and tears running from his eyes.  Why couldn't Mark have gotten that wand so Mack could just die?  He rubbed his eyes, his head pounding.  It was obvious he had been in a bar fight.  He looked down and all over his chest were bruises and cuts, so at least he had evidence.  And a whitness who would throw him under the bus in record time.  Just standing there pondering it made him sick to his stomach, which was also decorated with red, black, and blue smudges.  

The knowing he had earlier when he combatted Mark had disappeared.  Before, he formulated a foolproof plan in mere seconds after Mark drew his wand, whereas now, he had no clue what to do.  He couldn't reverse his actions, the past was the past, and he was helpless.  

His only option was to describe, in detail, exactly what was said, and done, including the bits about James.  He was afraid.  Fearless to the wand, terrified of the confession.  "I have a few things to tell you…" he told the full story this time, wincing when he retold a comment about James or Julie, and, even though he knew Jim hated him already and probably downgraded his opinion, but he felt is was necessary.  

He would be a selfish jerk if he were to cry in desperation, but he did anyway, unable to hold it back.  He turned away as fast as possible, hoping his former best friend had seen nothing.  "James," he choked, he must have had inatiquite poker face practice.  "I'm sorry."

Mark felt nauseous. It was the first thing to hit him, as his eyes began to flutter open, He sat straight up, only to have a pounding to begin in the back of his head. He slumped back down, now looking around, a confused look on his face. These weren't his clothes. Well, they were, but he had given them James. And this, this wasn't his apartment. He saw Mack and Jim, both who seemed to be arguing.

Mack was retelling what had happened. It was all a little fuzzy to him. "Dude," He said. "Why the hell do I feel like I got hit by a freaking train?" He said, a hand rubbing his face. He couldn't remember the bottle. All he could remember was that he pissed Mack off, and they got into a fight.

"You hit him with a beer bottle? Wha- what would ever posess you to do that!" James hissed angrily, telling himself that he wouldn't yell. Mark mumbled, barely audible. Jim jumped back to into his nurse mode. "Well, not a train exactly, sort of a a bottle controled by and out of control criminal." He looked up at Mack, who was standing in his pajamas looking at his bruised arm. "God dammnit, Mack, go grab clothes from my closet, don't touch Tina's underwear and wrinkle my shirts, or else I have to iron, and I don't think I'l have time for this this evening."

Mack was slightly smaller than Jim in height, but his chest was a bit broader. Whatever, a sweat shirt would work with a pair of sweat pants. "Do you want me to call Julie?" James could handle a little Julie at the moment. She would have to come here eventually. "Or do you want to go to St. Mungos? I got most of the glass out of your head, but you may need stitches." He threw a glance in the direction of his bedroom, where Mack was probabaly wrinkling his shirts. If Mack was in front of him, and looks could kill, Mackenzie MacDonal;d would be nothing but a pile ofr dust on the floor.

Mack was growing more frustrated by the minute.  James didn't understand.  They were in a bar, and Mackenzie had no weapons, but Mark was threatening him with a wand and a bag of potions that would do god knows what to him, whether it knock him out or kill him painfully.  His only option was the beer bottle - well, that was how he wanted it to be.  He always had a desire to do that, and on Mark Hunter, it was a valid thing to do.

  He grunted in irritation, advancing into James's room where he proceeded to wrinkle all his clothes, stuffing them in Tina's underwear to satisfy himself.  He grabbed something he would surely rip if he forced on - a small sweater meant for someone of James's build - and struggled to put it on, at one point falling on the floor.  He heard the seams tearing apart and smiled.  He walked out and said, "Do you mind if I wear this?" He gestured to the sweater.  He felt cold air on his sides, shoulders, and armpits, and the shirt reeked of James.  It was quite uncomfortable, but he would wear it for the look he expected from him.  

He had given up trying to explain that if Mark had the upper hand, it would be Mack who was lying unconscience, on the couch.  And he knew Mark wouldn't be quick to back him up; he would probably have a bigger desire to cast an unforgiveable spell on him, crucio then avada kadavra, forget imperio.  He was in an impossible situation, and it was all because he hit Mark with his glass baseball bat.

Mark was finally coming to his senses. Mack had hit him over the head with a beer bottle, then knew he couldn't leave him in the bar, abducted him, cleaned him or tried to clean him up, and brought him to James. James asked him if he wanted to go to St. Mungo's. "No, not that. If I go there, there will be a line of questions I'll have to answer, id have to throw Mack under the bus, and it may help them out in tracking me down, just to have me get arrested." Mark felt for the back of his head. Yup. It hurt.

"Julie doesn't have a phone. And we don't have electricity in our apartment. She's not our worry. She'll understand." All this thinking created a massive headache to erupt from the back of his head. "Dude, my head feels really bad." Mark looked around the apartment. "Where's your girlfriend? Ugh! Why cant remember her name? Doesn't she work at st. Mungo's? I mean, I think I knows skin stitching spell, but I, I really can't remember anything!"

Mark slumped back to the couch. "my head hurts. I betcha I can make it home. All I've gotta do is apartate without splinching. Seems doable." Mark sat up, before getting dizzy, and lying back down.

Jim looked up at Mack, a familiar sweater covering his chest. The side seams were struggling and large sections of the knit sweater were popped open. "Dude, my sister knit that for me.... lame dude, I was trying to be nice, take off the sweater and  leave, okay? Just go."

Jim stood up and grabbed ice from his fridge, wrapping it in a towel for his friend. "Here's some ice Mark." Hunter wanted to aparate home. No way in hell was James going to that him do that in the current state he was in. "Tina isn't coming back from her ministry job for an hour or so, she was going out with a few friends after work. I'll check my notes for the stitching spell, I'll aparate you home as soon as your head is thoroughly stitched, okay, that sound good?"

Mackenzie wouldn't move an inch until he didn't feel like a jerk.  And the sweater didn't help, of course Annette knitted it and it meant a lot to him and all that.  And he began to feel a pang of jealousy.  Mark was threatening Mack and got what he deserved, and James was caring for him like a nurse.  He was like a pool of emotions, green mixed with blue and red to make an ugly shade of brown.  And James sure didn't sound like he was being nice, not at all.  In fact, he sounded like he was tired of looking at Mackenzie's chest. 

 But Mackenzie didn't want to seem even more like a jerk, so he began to take the sweater off, struggling not to break the stitches to the point of no return.  As he wiggled, he lost his balance, tipping right over on to the ground, slamming his ribs on the floor and partially his already injured arm.  He had to bite his tongue until it bled not to scream. He tried to stand up, but without his arms, he fell again with a thud and a moan.  Great.  Drawing more attention to himself so James thought he was trying to steal some from Mark.  He wasn't about to rip the sweater again, oh no.  He could barely feel his arm now, but couldn't lower it until the homemade shirt was off.  And, with a sickening rip, it fell, his arm falling, limp, to his side.  He cringed, that being the exact opposite of what he wanted to happen.  He stood, and said, "James, I really didn't mean to.  Your sister can fix it, right?" He imagined that as he spoke, the blood in his mouth was obvious.  His teeth were probably red.  And Mack certainly didn't feel like less of a jerk.

Mark watched as Mack fell, and he rolled his eyes. What a drama king little mister the attention isn't on me. Little mister I'm going to hurt himself to get the attention I want. And Mark was sickened by it. "oh please." Mark shot a look at him. He slumped back down and crossed hands. "You are such a drama king." He shot.

And now, James would have to play nurse to two people. Awesome. He really wanted Julie. Julie would kick Mack's arse, and his for being in the bar in the first place.

"Mack come on! I don't think she could even fix that!" Jim walked into the kitchen to pick up the bread knife he had flung before this fiasco had started. He put it on the counter and went to toss a clean t-shirt on, he was done playing doctor and he was sweating like a stuck pig. Mack struggled with the sweater and fell, the pullover beyond repair. "MACK!" James yelled in frustration, he just wanted everyone to disappear so he could finish his letter that he was having such a hard time with.

"Mack, get up..uh, here." Jim watched as Mackenzie fell again. He finally grabbed Mack's arm, hidden by the deep red yarn. He escorted Mack to the other couch like a child who was to be punished. James pulled out his wand, if this spell wasn't going to work, he had bone growing serum in the first aid kit that he would have to get anyways. He pulled the sweater off of Mack's torso, it was beyond any fixing "Brackium Emendo!" James held his wand over the obviously fractured arm. A white flash emitted from the tip and Mack's arm was fixed. "Yay"

Jogging to the bathroom, Jim pulled his larger than average first-aid kit and pulled two small vials of potion from it. He hustled back to Mark and Mack, tossing Mack a bottle of water, "Please go wash out your mouth" Jim sat on the table and un corked the purple potion. "One, we're going to clean that, lean forwards, it's going to sting." Jim poured the violet concoction onto Mark's head, it smoked on contact and absorbed into Hunter's head.

"Okay, this one isn't as bad, I use this one a lot." He twisted the cap off of the red bottle. "Blood-replenishing potion, yeah, it's sorta iron-y, just...one sec..." James ran into the kitchen and pulled a three ounce dixie cup from behind the bar. He poured the potion into the paper vessel and handed it to Mark. "Bottoms up"