1830 hours


"I think that's it for me, lads..." Balfour slid his empty pint glass across the bar counter, shaking his head at Vincent and the other handlers who had cajoled him into after-work drinks. The whole group took up half the counter, all of them in their weathered work robes. "Any more, we'll have to crack open the Firewhiskey." And he wanted to be some form of sober when he finally left the pub and got back to the estate to see how Johann's day had gone.

The wizard gestured at the closest barwitch, asking for a pitcher of water. He liked going out with the lot from Beasts - it reminded him of when he'd been a part of the ground team instead of their division head - but these evenings had lost some of their appeal in recent months.

He was a father, now. A fiancé. Responsibilities were both numerous and heavy. "Thanks," Bal smiled at the woman who served them the iced water. Vincent chatted her up for a bit while Balfour tactfully looked away.

Someone drew up next to him at the bar and he glanced over with a friendly smile, only to feel it drop from his face right away. It was Charlie Weasley. He'd recognise the fellow anywhere, and not just because he was a Weasley. Charlie had been one of the people who'd gone abroad to recruit volunteers during the second wizarding war.

A war Balfour hadn't fought in because he'd refused to come home for it. He had ignored the call to arms, afraid of facing friends on the other side of the war and afraid of facing the family he'd run away from. The memory came easily: it had been the same year[1] he met Ira Almasy, after all.

"Weasley," the Scotsman heard himself greet the other man in a strained but cheerful voice. "Wasn't expecting to run into you here, mate!"

1.	1996 - Burnt the Fire of Thine Eyes

Charlie hadn't been at this particular establishment in a while. He liked the atmosphere though, it helped him forget about his family for awhile and to drink something more satisfying than butterbeer.  Sometimes he did not understand his mother, yes, even after all these years, he still did not know why she still treated her kids... well.... like kids.

He had been living on his own before the war started for several years and liked his freedom a lot. However, he tried to visit his mother quite often now that he had taken on a more desk-type job at the reserve in Romania.  Today had been especially tiring at his childhood home. So here he was and he sat down at the bar without noticing who was next to him until he heard his name.

He turned his head and saw who had said his name and for a moment he couldn't place the gentleman that said it.  Then it clicked.   Spectre, one of the few who refused to come aid in the war when he'd gone recruiting.  It still got on his nerves that some of those in high positions today were little more than cowards when the war was going on.

Charlie thought for a moment, before taking a breath and replying, "Spectre."

He then turned back to the drink he had ordered and took a drink from the slightly smoking glass.[1]

1.	I don't know what he'd drinking, but I figure there's a drink out there that's strong and smoky???