A little after eleven at night Moira, who should have been in bed along with all the other students, slipped inside one of the empty classrooms. She was absolutely miserable and in no way wanted to deal with people in general. She didn't want to be comforted - well, maybe a little - what she wanted was to wallow for a little while.

Giving off a little sigh she slid down the wall in a corner until she was sitting on the cold stone floor. Moira wouldn't feel it soon enough. Reaching into her bag she pulled out an unopened bottle of fire whiskey she had acquired from a student who was known for getting such things into the school. She stared a moment before peeling off the plastic and opened it up. Sod it all for the night. Moira took a drink.

After receiving her father's letter that morning Moira had felt like something was actually trying to crush her. As if the mid-term exams during her O.W.L.S. year wasn't bad enough, her (fake) boyfriend was poisoned - possibly dying - and now she couldn't go home for the holidays.

Noticing movement she looked over towards the door. It took a moment due to the shadows for her to see that it was only Sasha, and he looked about as miserable as she did. After watching for a moment she offered him the bottle. "Drink?"

It was only out of necessity that Sasha found himself back in Hogwarts.  When he'd been pulled out of class earlier that week, he'd taken nothing with him.  He hadn't expected to be gone from the castle for more than a couple of hours.  He hadn't anticipated going anywhere beyond St. Mungo's.  There had been a lot of eventualities he hadn't planned for. 

The most prominent being the body back in London awaiting transport back home.  For that, he needed his passport.  And, for that, he'd needed to return to Hogwarts. 

Most of the day had been spent avoiding people as best he could.  He waited until classes were in session before moving through the corridors to Ravenclaw tower.  After gathering a few fresh changes of clothes and his wallet, he'd set out to find all his professors so he could gather missed notes and homework assignments.  Again, coordinating his circuit so he was moving through the corridors during classes and finding professors during their off periods, if they had them.  Not that he anticipated even trying to catch up over the weekend.  He was well aware midterms were starting on Monday but, for once, he was void of any motivation to study. 

By the time he'd finished, it was too late to travel back to London so he'd resigned himself to staying in the castle overnight and leaving first thing in the morning. 

He'd spotted the younger Hufflepuff heading into the empty classroom as he'd started back towards Ravenclaw tower.  As he passed the door, he paused, peered into the shadowy room and watched quietly as Moira took a drink.  After a moment, the Hufflepuff noticed him and offered the bottle. 

"I should be telling you to stop," Sasha said quietly and with no motivation in his voice.

The Ravenclaw didn't have the best track record when it came to underclassmen and breaking rules and he knew the safest course of action was to turn and walk away.  The last time he'd agreed to such a thing, he'd lost his prefect badge and had nearly missed expulsion.  Except, at this point, what could they take away?  What did he have left to lose? 

He crossed the room and slumped against the wall and leaned his head back, however he didn't reach for the bottle right away. 

"It sucks," he said, simply. 

Moira said nothing yet when he mentioned that he should be stopping her, probably walking away and leaving even. She wouldn't have blamed him if he had, he'd had enough problems over the years to not need more. It wasn't that he went looking for those problems, they just followed him in droves where as she was quiet and generally avoided detection of major issues. Other than the occasional detention her record was clean. There was little chance she'd get away with something like this without getting caught.

Sasha sat down by her and though he didn't reach for the bottle she set it down between them in case he wanted to. With a nod of agreement she set her own head back against the wall. "Best time to ignore the voices of reason for a little while, including our own."

More often than not Moira considered any distinctive decisions she made. Was that the best option for the short or long term? This time she didn't care. If it helped for just a little while then it was worth it. She hadn't managed to eat anything all day other than a roll at breakfast. The fifteen year old student still wasn't hungry. Of course that meant the alcohol would affect her faster, from what she'd overheard, but that was all the better for her.

"If you want to talk...." She let the sentence hang. It wasn't one that needed to be finished.

Sasha glanced down at the bottle between them before picking it up and peering at the label.  He'd never actually tasted firewhiskey.  He suspected his fellow seventh years would find that strange but entirely unsurprising.  Not that he was a complete stranger to alcohol.  He was German; he'd been drinking beer since he was in primary school.  His grandmother had always been prone to adding too much Stroh's rum into the mulled wine at the holidays.  He'd just never had the interest. 

"Best time to ignore the voices of reason for a little while, including our own.  If you want to talk...."

He remained quiet for a few more moments, continuing to stare at the bottle label.  "Do you believe people can be cursed?" he finally asked, quietly.

The Ravenclaw looked up from the bottle and regarded the younger Hufflepuff for a moment.  The puzzle of her own morose was an unfortunate, but nonetheless welcome distraction from his own thoughts.  It had been obvious Moira was off her norm since Sasha had spotted her slipping into the classroom.  He knew the girl had plenty of her own reasons to seek chemical relaxation but he suspected this particular funk was caused by a new species of misfortune.  He'd been so disconnected from the castle over the last week that he knew very little about current events.  A blush rose in the young man's cheeks as he looked back at the bottle; how easy it was to forget that many had been effected by the events of the last week.

"How has it been here?" he asked, keeping the question vague and leaving it to her to answer as personally, or generally, as she wished.

Moira watched somewhat absently as he picked up the bottle and looked over the label. It was her father's favorite, though he was willing to try just about anything. Thinking about him made her throat tighten for a moment and she had to look away. Mild case. Sure.

At his question she glanced at him again. Similar thoughts had been crossing her mind on and off over the past few days. Juni's mom, Ambrose's mom, Alvis.... maybe she was a bad omen for people who got close to her. Her response was quiet, "I don't know. Maybe."

Moments passed between them in silence, not an uncomfortable one but certainly heavy as their separate troubles weighed on their shoulders and hearts. Sasha didn't answer her offer, not yet anyway, and instead opened the door for her to go first and answer however she liked.

Moira didn't answer right away and when she finally spoke it was in more of a matter of fact and distant tone. "About the usual, I guess. It's our O.W.L.S. year so the pressure's worse than before from all our teachers, you remember I'm sure. Probably got your own issues with it because of your N.E.W.T.S.

Then I got a letter from dad this morning telling me I have to figure something out for the Christmas break. I can't go home because both he and my uncle have acquired Dragon Pox, though they say it's a mild case. Not sure how I'll work that out with my impending internship at the ministry and a few days ago my.... sort of boyfriend was poisoned and crying blood and no one will tell me anything."

While it had been circling the school for a while that Moira and Alvis were dating it was not a known fact that it was actually a fake relationship. It started as a way to stop the rumors however the friendship that had developed between them since then was very much real. None-the-less she didn't like lying to Sasha, but she couldn't tell him the truth of what had happened either.

The Ravenclaw half-shrugged and set the bottle back down on the floor between them.  O.W.L.S. could be a particularly troubling source of stress, as N.E.W.T.S. were proving to be.  He did remember the pressure of his fifth year, though it had been slightly mitigated by the circumstances.  For him, the stress and distraction of exams had been a welcome source of distraction during his fifth year. 

Of course, he'd been away from school for almost half of the year. 

"They do like to constantly remind you of everything you're supposed to know.  And, how little of it you appear to know at the moment."  That seemed to be one thing many of his professors had in common this year.  'Remember, you can expect to be tested on this and the examiners will be expecting perfection.  You're N.E.W.T.S students; don't forget that!'[/i]  As if any of them were liable to forget.

The pressure of exams was something Sasha could related to and sympathize with.  The others?  Sasha's brows furrowed and he opened his mouth but quickly closed it before committing to saying something he knew he'd regret.  In the end, it wasn't his foot he stuck in his mouth.  It was a good swig of firewhiskey.  The alcohol burned as it traced down his throat, forcing him to think about nothing else for a brief moment. 

"Is Alvis at St. Mungo's?"  It was, initially, the easiest part of the conversation to respond to.  He tried to remember if he'd seen Alvis there.  He didn't, though that probably didn't mean much; he didn't remember much beyond his one little corner of the ward.  "They should, at least, tell you what's happening.  Have you asked the Healer?" 

Sasha took another drink and leaned his head back against the stone wall; exhaling deeply as the burning subsided. 

"So, you're stuck here for the holidays, too?" Sasha asked, licking his lips.  "I've never stayed here over the holidays.  Have you?"

"For all I know he's still at the Hut, and Madam Nagde won't say though I asked. Something about student confidentiality. I don't know." With a sigh she took a turn at the bottle, tilting it back and relishing as it burned down her throat. That was definitely a worthy distraction.

Fortunately enough Sasha moved ahead with the conversation to more easy conversations and a less.... not-quite-honest one. Moira considered Sasha a friend, but she couldn't tell even him about the boyfriend bluff and everything. No doubt he'd heard that rumor. Oh well, it wasn't like things were going to change for it.

"It would seem so. Though Dad said I could stay with a friend so I might ask Ambrose if his family wouldn't mind. I like the castle well enough but..." She made a face and took a quick drink. "I'm here too much as it is. No, I've never had to stay over the holidays. If I do stay with someone else you should write." She didn't explain why he should as she didn't really know, it just seemed important that he did.

It was a few drinks later, each, when Moira looked to her slightly older friend and asked, "When the hell do you find the time to work out anyway? I know you have issues sleeping but you GOTTA sleep sometime...."

"If I do stay with someone else you should write.”

The Ravenclaw arched a brow and he let his head roll to the side as he regarded the younger Hufflepuff for a few moments.  She was prompting him to keep in touch?  Moira, the quiet wallflower?  He was touched, but surprised.  He took another drink before looking forward, again, into the dusty darkness of the classroom. 

“It should be fun staying with friends over the holidays,” he offered.  “Maybe not as good as home, but might surprise you.”  The comment was half consolation and half a reminisce about his previous holidays.  The hours spent in a hectic, overly crowded, small kitchen with Professor Trishna and Professor Storm and … Jacoba had been the closest he’d ever come to the Hallmark Card-stereotypically warm family Holiday.  It had been the first Holiday he’d spent with Jacoba since he had been seven.  And, it had been the last. 

Sasha grimaced as he tried to swallow a quiet groan.  Hoping his companion hadn’t heard, he quickly took another long drink.   He let his eyes fall shut in the silence, letting the alcohol quiet his thoughts. 

"When the hell do you find the time to work out anyway? I know you have issues sleeping but you GOTTA sleep sometime….”

Sasha’s eyes fluttered open and he looked, again, over a Moira.  “Mornings,” he admitted.  “I’m usually out jogging by five.  I just sneak in different exercises as I go - push ups by the whomping willow.  Chin ups by the ... wo ist... Quidditch Pitch.  By then, I’m ready for a break from studying.”  He shrugged.  He did sleep, on occasion.  Though, usually unintentionally.  It seemed to just creep up on him some nights.[1].  “I’ve become a real whiz at pepper up potions and sleep replacement potions.” 

Sasha fished around for a change of subject, not wanting to linger long enough for Moira to consider the implications.  His brain wasn’t working as quickly as he’d like.  With luck, neither was Moira’s. 

“What if you planned a recon mission?”  Dredging up an old topic proved easier than finding a new one.  “One well placed hex would get you into the Hospital Hut. Then, poke around while Nagde isn’t looking.  Or, hex someone else and poke around while Nagde is distracted with them?  Then you could see if your boyfriend is there."

1.	Fellow Ravenclaws, like Alvis, have taken to slipping occasional sedatives into Sasha’s drinks

Fun was a very... relative term really. There was actual fun, sarcastic fun, pretending to have fun.... All kinds really. Of course he was right. Ambrose was an interesting enough guy and he knew to give Moira her space sometimes so it might not be too bad. There was her sleeping problem when at strange places but she'd survived months of that before. A couple weeks weren't going to kill her.

As Moira took another drink she listened to him talk about when he exercised. It all sounded well enough but there was something... off about it. Potions. Her mind skipped over the one obvious choice and latched on to the other and she gave him a semi-firm stare, "You best be careful. I don't need you getting poisoned too."

She relinquished the bottle and set her head back, smirking as he dug up an idea for an older topic they had been on. Ah-hah, planning! Action! She could do that. Except.... "I'm decent, Sasha, but I don't think I'm quite clever enough to pull off something like that so well. Not like you probably could. Unless you wanna help?" Moira had heard bits and pieces of his other... escapades with other students but that didn't really come into her thoughts just now. All she thought was, though they probably wouldn't try it and tipsy as she was she knew it, if Sasha was helping her then it could be done.

Sasha's eyes drifted closed for a moment.  The prospects of sneaking into the Hospital Hut was an intriguing one but such an intricate plan required as many neurons as possible.  The firewhiskey had already taken half of said neurons offline so his brain was only functioning at half-capacity. 

"It would be easy," he remarked.  Especially with everything he'd been learning from his 'extracurricular' studies, it would be so incredibly easy.  Almost child's play.  Assuming he was here, which he wouldn't be.  "I'm leaving, again, in the morning, though.  I have to go back to Germany."  He was probably going to need some sort of potion in the morning for the inevitable headache.  Or, coffee.  Otherwise, it was going to be a very long trip. 

He'd been trying not to think of that, to think of Sunday.  He leaned his head back, craning his neck so he was staring up at the ceiling.  It was all so, horribly, unbelievably unfair.  "I'm sorry," he said, quietly, with no elaboration. 

Naturally Sasha confirmed it would be easy to do, of course it would. He was super smart from all those extra studies and classes he took. Moira was pretty certain she had overheard something about him schooling even more after Hogwarts at a muggle school. There weren't many who were that..... ambitious?

What he said next though had her frowning and looking towards him again. "Leaving? But you just got back. Why do you have to go back after just a day?" Juni and Ambrose were nice and she did like them but she hadn't exactly gone sobbing on their shoulders after a complete breakdown and sat out in the cold all night. Besides that, Sasha knew more than they did.

It was a moment later when he said to the empty air towards the ceiling that he was sorry. Moira blinked in confusion. "Sorry? Why are you sorry? To... who are you sorry?"

It was odd how the mind worked, how the simple act of saying something made it much more real than it would have been if left unsaid.  Speaking, of course, could do nothing to actually change reality.  Perhaps it was like a confession.  Perhaps, it was simply the speaker committing to the truth.  Either way, over-analysis of such paradoxes was a great way to avoid contemplating challenging topics. 

Alcohol did seem to make it easier.

"I only came back to get a few things I needed; I didn't intend to stay this long.  My sister was one of the ones poisoned.  I'm taking her back to Germany, so she can be buried at home."  He spoke flatly, continuing to stare up at the ceiling.

"Even if our...her father would hate it."  Sasha's lip curled, slightly, before he took another drink.  "He's not around to complain.  And, it's not even his land, so he can go rot."  Schonau was Waldgraf land, not Schlagenweit.  As much as Gerhard liked to think that, by virtue of marriage and him being the husband, he had controlled all the estate.  He didn't.  And, since Oma Kat had outlived him, he never had.  In three months, it would pass from her to Sasha.  Even if Gerhard Schlagenweit had denied Jacoba, Oma Kat Waldgraf had reached out to her.  "Verdammt du hurensohn.[1]"

The reasons for leaving were simple.  The reasons for the apology, less so.  "I never spent enough time with her," was the basic explanation.  "We weren't allowed to when we were growing up.  We were always away at school and then they kicked her out.  She came back here for me two years ago and-"  And, he'd pushed her away.  He'd thought he was doing the right thing - he'd thought he was keeping people safe from Malvivicus by keeping them at arm's length.  In the end, Malvivicus had stolen those two years.  Sasha had let him steal those two years. 

"I'm an idiot."  He took another long drink.

1.	Roughly, damn you, S.O.B.

Moira could only stare at him as he started explaining himself. When he mentioned his sister being poisoned and him leaving again to bury her she murmured, "Shit, Sasha...." He continued on and Moira listened in silence until he was finished. From what she remembered she was the last of his family and now he had lost her too. However....

"Why are you an idiot? And you said 'her' father. You didn't have the same dad?" Moira took the bottle from him and took a long drink before setting it down between them again, if he wanted more. He seemed to need it more than she did at this point and she didn't mind sharing with him.

Normally Moira was the kind of person who inferred a lot of information from what she heard over time, putting things together slowly as she heard tidbits here and there. Here and now, with the help of alcohol, she was learning as much if not more than she had since the incident now over a year ago. Maybe there was just something about December. "Explain it to me?"

He didn't know why he was an idiot.  Maybe all his brain power had been overtaken by book smarts and there wasn't any room left for anything else?  Maybe his mother dropped him.  Maybe they were all right and he needed to drink more.  Or sleep.  Did any idiot actually know how they managed to be idiots?  It seemed like idiots would be a much rarer breed, if they could identify the cause of their idiocy.  If he knew, he'd excise it in a heartbeat. 

Completely oblivious to the fact that Moira had asked an entirely different question, Sasha glanced at Moira, the room around him swimming slightly.  Slowly, he shook his head.  "That was one thing Rita Skeeter got right.  I'm a bastard."  The rest of her articles were a mixture of lies and stretched truths.  "My mother had an affair a few years after my sister was born.  Several months later...whoops!"  He marked the sound effect with another drink and leaned his head back, again.  "No one knew but my mother.  And, my sister, apparently.  I was eight when she ratted my mother out at dinner; she was thrown out that night."

He turned to look back up at the ceiling, glaring into the darkness.  "I had to pretend he was my father, though.  Just like I had to pretend I was a muggle.  And had to pretend I went to another school and dated Hannah and was going to join the military.  And I still have to pretend I just go home over the summers and all my family's dead except for my senile grandmother who doesn't know where she is.  I've never just been me...never not had to hide.  I hid from Jacoba and kept her away and, now what?  Now, what am I?"  He took a deep breath and blinked, rapidly. 

"I've been thinking of staying in Germany," he admitted.  "After the funeral.  That's what they wanted, when I came of age.  I mean, there's not much left here.  Just closets full of cobwebs and skeletons."  And, he was one of them.

Rita Skeeter.... She was that tabloid writer or something. Moira never bothered with her columns, garbage that they were, but she had still overheard others talking about what had been written and that was annoying all by itself. The world took all kinds of people, even indecent kinds who made money writing slanderous lies that hurt many.

Focusing off that little bit and fully on Sasha again she just listened. It was different, him talking and her listening. It was a nice change once in a while, and Moira was definitely as good of a listener as he was when it came down to it in the end. And now, like a year ago, she saw him as so very, very lost. All the lies he had to grow up with, all the hiding, was it any wonder he didn't know who he was?

Moira moved before she was fully aware of it as his eyes blinked rapidly and he finished off with there being nothing here. Her arms wrapping firmly around him, her head on his arm/chest and she didn't let go. "I'm so sorry, Sasha. You don't have to hide when you're around me. If you want to scream or cry, talk or sit in silence, to find out who you are you can. If you ever need anything you only have to ask. If you're one thing... you're my friend."