Alcohol was his oldest friend.

The first shot of whiskey had traveled down his throat when he was fourteen, a childish dare that he’d lost –perhaps on purpose, if only to forget everything had happened not long before. He’d enjoyed the candid burn, and since then had built a friendly, respectful relationship with all things containing alcohol. He knew his limits, and he was always careful to not cross the line –toe it, at times, perhaps, but never cross it-, so as to avoid issues that could become a tad bit too complicated. But drinking was like being welcomed in the warm embrace of a friend’s open arms, and though it wasn’t the solution to any problems it sure as sod was a comfort. Over the years, he’d tasted every type of drink he could imagine, and even some he couldn’t, but he’d always ended up returning to whiskey. It wasn’t often that he got drunk –just a glass, every now and again, was enough. Losing his senses and vomiting just wasn’t his thing. That wasn’t why he drank.

Until today.

The alcohol punched down his throat and settled in the pit of his stomach with remembered warmth –but what the Auror couldn’t quite remember was how many glasses of whiskey had come before it. He giggled as he slammed the glass down on the hard wood of the counter –and the sound was enough to make him decide he needed another one. It’d been too long since he’d laughed. With his head spinning just slightly, Cooper raised an arm awkwardly and pointed down, asking for another one. Even through the haze, he could see the bloke doubting –but a quick growl was enough to be rid of any questions, and he heard whiskey smacking against the crystal. He smiled with wicked anticipation. One of his hands smacking down against the bar, fingers dragging along uneven wood, his other fist curled around the cold glass and he drank. And drank. Until there was no more whiskey, and the crystal was slamming down on the bar top with a smack.

With a dry sigh, Cooper turned towards the bloke he’d been speaking with –but, as the Leaky Cauldron began to spin around him, he saw that he was gone. Night was already sprawling its wings over the sky outside, and apparently people had other duties. Homes to get to. “Oh, Gaspy and Kat,” He hiccupped, as he remembered his children. Green eyes falling towards the empty glass, he shrugged –the twins were better off with their Grandmother tonight. “Gimme more,” He smirked at the bartend. Yes, alcohol was making everything better –it felt so sodding amazing to be smiling again. The werewolf heard a resigned sigh at the same time as liquid hit solid, and he was drinking again. As he finished off what might have been his third, or might have been his fiftieth glass, Cooper felt a body slide into the stool at his left. Immediately smiling widely, the werewolf tried to turn towards the new comer, only to find himself stumbling and close to falling. The glass of whiskey shattered on the ground, as he threw an unsteady arm out and gripped the shoulder of whoever the hell it was that had sat down at his side. “Oops,” He giggled, as he found himself falling into the person’s chest.

Sod, it felt good to be drunk.

Eddie knew his colleague was in a terrible place. Auror Pratt had been in a similar place the previous spring when his parents had been murdered because he’d refused to quit his job, to give in to threats from criminals. Evans had lost his wife and that was surely worse. Ed couldn’t imagine his ex-wife ever being killed. Despite him having been in a relationship with the sexy French witch for several months now, the death of Quincy would have destroyed him. She was still the mother of his children, the witch he’d loved since he was 15, spotty and childish.

He knew Evans was in a bad place, but that didn’t excuse the auror when he fell against Ed’s chest, drunkenly giggling to himself. That was just a bit too much contact from a colleague. But now wasn’t the time to point out this misdemeanour. They were so similar in age, similar in their familial situations and that had meant Eddie felt obliged to check on his colleague who would no doubt be drowning his sorrows. That what Pratt would have done.

Lips pressed together, Eddie grabbed Cooper’s shoulders and pushed him back up to a seated position on the rickety barstool. His green eyes examined Evan’s glossy, foggy ones. This auror hadn’t only been here for a couple of drinks. He appeared to have become a part of the furniture this evening.

“You need to go home.” Pratt calmly told his colleague, northern accent thick yet his tone didn’t hold the humour he was known for. His trademark grin or auror’s stoic expression had been exchanged for concern, empathy. “Alcohol don’t make it feel any better, mate. Ye’ll just feel like dragon crap in the mornin’.”

Cooper had never been close to a man’s chest –and now, he was leaning against one, lips half open and eyes screwed tightly closed as the world danced around him. It was as if everything was happy, and that was a welcome pleasure, even if his stomach was starting to twist and turn uncomfortably. It was odd, pressing his ears against some stranger’s torso, and feeling a human heart beating against bone, flesh and skin and still lightly smacking his chest. The Auror giggled, as he raised a hand and dragged it through his hair. Sodding hell, it was hot in here today. The man let his arm curl around the stranger’s shoulder, at the peril of sliding slightly lower if he didn’t, and that would be uncomfortable. He chuckled again, and rolled his head against the chest it was leaning into, trying to twist and see his savior’s face.

But then the world was twisting, as Cooper felt a hand grab his shoulder and kindly –if a bit quickly- help him back into a sitting position. He wanted to explain that he’d been much more comfortable listening to the miracle of life against his eardrums, but as he opened his lips all that came out was: “More whiskey!” In a drunken drawl. The werewolf began waving his hand impatiently towards the bartender, as he let his green eyes struggle to take in the smudged face of the stranger who’d save him. Recognition took a bit more than a few seconds to hit. “Ed!” He exclaimed with a giggle. “Whiskey you drink me?” He struggled to slur out the words, as he turned back towards the bartend. “Make two!” For some reason the bloke behind the bar wasn’t moving. And then, Edward Pratt spoke.

“No!” Coop’s lips twisted into a pout, shoulders slumping as he let his raised hand drop onto the wooden counter, and he turned to face his coworker, quickly shaking his head –which might not have been the best of ideas, as everything spun out of control again and suddenly he wasn’t entirely sure where Pratt was actually sitting. “I’m laughing,” He moaned, in direct contrast to his earlier giggles, as his body swayed just slightly in its stool. “Laughing is better,” Cooper pressed his lips together in determination and folded his arms over his stomach as best he could –and ended up with his arms across his midsection, but he decided it got the point across. “And I’m not drunk, mate,” He tried to smile, at the same time as he tried to cock an eyebrow. It didn’t quite work. “I can show you –want to see me jump on one leg?” He giggled, and glanced over to see if his two whiskeys were there yet.

This was certainly awkward. Eddie didn’t like getting ‘personal’ with most of his colleagues. He was close to a couple, yes. Radley was the godfather of his kids, Trevelyan had weaseled his way further in Pratt’s life but he still tried to keep things separate. The whole office had known of Eddie divorce but none had mentioned it. They all knew he had too many kids to count but they didn’t ask him about them, he didn’t even have pictures on his desk of his family. Aurors just knew but they never pried into the lives of their colleagues unless necessary. When Ed’s parents had been killed his personal life had become public in the office, he’d flown off the handle, curing at Harcroft and losing his temper.

Now it was Evans’ turn. Was it time to pry and let him get personal? No matter how uncomfortable it was, this was a respected colleague. Someone he’d fought with. Someone who’d been a few years behind him in school. They’d been in training together.

There was no refusal of the whiskey ordered and as it was placed on the bar next to the colleague, Eddie lifted his and took a swig. Liquid courage to deal with the pain in the arse that was aurorly duty.

“I’ve seen more excitin’ things, Evans.” The blonde auror responded with a small smirk.  He wasn’t going to drag the wizard out against his will so instead he folded his arms, watching. “Jump on no legs and I’ll buy ye another whiskey. Or take yer drunken ass to St Mungo’s fer a nice sleep.” Cooper was lucky it was just Eddie here. Last time a group of the aurors had been as drunk as Cooper Eddie had ended up taking a bath in a pond and Bailey had been locked in the bathroom for the day[1].

A thought flashed through Eddie’s mind which made his features twist slightly towards a soft frown. Did he look and act this ridiculous when he was drunk? Surely not. But then…Raynor had locked him in a cell for disrupting the peace when drunk a couple of years back…[2]

1.	The Hangover
2.	Let The Game Begin

The smallest of giggles escaped past Cooper’s lips, as the bartend placed the two drinks on the counter, and three Pratt’s drank theirs in unison. Although the werewolf was quite certain Ed did not have triplets, the sight excited him, as he lent forwards drunkenly and curled his fists around his own glass. As he brought it to his lips, the whiskey spilt out and over his hands, but he didn’t mind –even if by the time he drank, there was barely two sips left. A jerk of his head –which might have looked more like a twist of his neck or sleepfull nod, but who the sod cared?- indicated he wanted more. The bartend continued to look just as unsure, but the werewolf was certain she’d not deny him his alcohol.

As empty glass toppled back down on the bar, Cooper hissed and opened his mouth in shock as his head snapped back towards the three Edwards. “There is nothing more exciting!” He slurred, his body swaying. He shot out a hand to hold himself up by the counter –only to then look quite pensive at one of the Pratt’s words. “Oh, I guess jumping on my arms might be more fun.” He then quickly pouted and made a valiant attempt at shaking his head –which ended up in him just turning it towards one side, before a witch with neon yellow hair caught his eyes. Somewhere in the back of his mind he remembered it wasn’t polite to stare, but at the moment he was in awe, as his hand blindly reached out and tugged at the front of Ed’s robes. “Oooh, I want my hair like that!” He exclaimed.

But then the moment was ever, and he turned back towards his fellow Aurors –all three the same, identical, and Cooper couldn’t help but giggle. Before turning serious, again, of course. “You’re not taking my anywhere, but I can still jump on no legs,” he slurred, crawling to his feet as carefully as he could. Then, folding his arms high above his head, he breathed in. Before jumping on his hands, he’d have to be standing on them. But the attempt was a fiasco: as he leant forwards, one of his legs kicked out and toppled over a stool, which started off a domino effect with all the others. Cooper, meanwhile, ended up face down on the ground.