10:00 PM

It was what Miles needed: some time to just hang out and be a teenage guy, before a summer of internships, new music, and wonderful adventures with Lola. The things that most of his peers had been worrying about this week— exams, grade reports, the house cup— didn’t matter tonight. The small group had agreed to meet in a wonderfully empty part of the school, where they could eat, drink, and play cards to their hearts’ content. And perhaps discuss things they couldn’t always say in female company (though Miles tried not to go overboard with that sort of thing).

Carrying a very conspicuous cardboard box full of Honeydukes sweets, sandwiches and pies from the kitchens, chilled butterbeer, and bags of muggle potato chips he’d bought some time ago, the Hufflepuff moved carelessly through the corridor to toward the makeshift poker house: an empty dungeon classroom, as far as possible from the Slytherin and Hufflepuff common rooms, teachers’ quarters, and staircases.

Miles pushed his back into the door, and blindly roamed for the knob, swinging in backward and turning to float toward a desk where he deposited his edible offerings. He’d also brought a Wireless, just in case. Looking around, he decided the dungeons were definitely the best place to hold a poker game. He was no expert, but it just sort of fit. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he jingled the gold he'd brought along. He wondered what Lola would think of him betting galleons.

10:07 pm

Never one to be on time, Zoey wriggled around in his dormitory, putting on different clothes and trinkets for the night of fun. Once dressed in only a way that was totally Zoey, he grabbed the packet of galleons on his nightstand and strode out of his dormitory and out of the portrait hole. He looked like a portrait piece or someone you'd see when you thought of Las Vegas, Nevada. He wore a visor on his head, with see-through plastic around the cap. On his torso, he had a black tee-shirt on, and a lime-green vest over top of it. His lower half consisted of loose khaki pants and flip-flops.

Turning a corner from the portrait hole, Zoey glided down the dungeon corridor, going deeper into the castle. He hadn't ventured this way since he was a third year, and he remembered that this part of the castle was hardly used anymore, if used at all. Finally, so far from his common room, he found the classroom Miles had been referring to. Slithering inside, he saw he was only the second person there.

"Oy, 'ey Miles." He said with a cheeky grin. "I see you've brought the snacks. Don't be alarmed if when you turn your back, they all magically make their way to my stomach."

The Hufflepuff turned around, having just been pondering opening a plastic-and-foil-lined bag of crisps with a pleasing pop. (Surely it wouldn’t have woken anyone, right? Perhaps a soundproofing charm was in order). His mouth slightly open in response to someone calling his name, he quickly and naturally assumed an effortless grin when he spotted Zoey. Not that Miles was in the business of judging his peers solely on their houses, but… he would be fooling himself if he didn’t acknowledge that the McAdams was a very rare breed of Slytherin.

“Howya, Zoey.” He moved forward, patting the other boy’s shoulder with one lanky arm. “All’s well? They’re here just for your stomach, mate, so tuck in.” Leaning back against the table, his palms curling around its edge and his legs crossed at an idle angle in front of him, he gestured with a tilt of his head to the piles of food now half spilling from the box in a professionally disorganized manner that seemed to require less thought than, say, his giant map full of future destinations. (Though crisps and sandwiches were much easier to navigate).

If Miles remembered correctly, Gamp’s Law of Elemental Transfiguration more than allowed them to multiply their exceptionally nutritionless and thus most delicious feast.

“Nice vest you’ve got there,” he added, nodding at the festive poker ensemble. Miles could appreciate interesting styles, having spent most of his life dressing distinctively, too. “Think it’ll give you an edge in the game?” He asked sincerely. Zoey definitely looked the part. “I haven’t played much poker…” No, Miles was firstly here to spend time with friends, to relax. Card games outside of the ones he made up with Lola on rainy days weren’t necessarily his forte, at least if they involved gambling. Not that he minded. It was fun, after all.

Outfit

The sound of squeaking leather filled the Hufflepuff common room. The Hufflepuff boy's outfit was outlandish and ridiculous, and yet totally appropriate. Charlie was hoping that the bright colors would throw the competition. Sure, some of his fellow poker players were housemates of his, but that didn’t matter tonight. No, tonight his main goal was to crush anyone who got in his way. Friendliness had its advantages, but so did unfriendliness. Tonight would probably be a night for both. Guys were pretty competitive, and didn’t take to losing well… Charlie was no exception.

He headed across the common room at a leisurely pace. He really wasn’t in any hurry. Tonight was a night of fun and relaxation, and if he hurried, it would feel like he HAD to be there. Leaving the room, Charlie made his way through the basement, trying to be as quiet as possible. It wasn’t exactly an easy task, not with his leather pants sounding off with every move he made.

When he got past the well-populated areas of the dungeons, Charlie started whistling. Honestly, Charlie was kind of scared of the uninhabited areas of the castle, especially the basement. With the rumors of old students being hung by their toenails, it wasn’t exactly a place he ventured often. The hushed male voices coming from a room down on the end was Charlie’s heading.

“Hey guys!” Charlie called, walking into the room. “Who’s ready for some poker?” He asked, laughing. Without asking, Charlie walked over and grabbed a chilled butterbeer out of the cardboard compartment and popped it open with a satisfied ‘pop’. “Where’s everybody else at?” He asked, knowing he was at least ten minutes later than their agreed time to arrive.

A game of poker… It had been a while since George had partaken in such debauchery. Smirking to himself with a slight wince, he made his way slowly down to the dungeons. Unaware to him, he was dressed quite unlike those currently waiting. The dark trousers were slightly baggy, giving him a little room to breathe, while the gray tank top allowed for loose constriction and a relaxed look. Finally, the dark red zipped hoodie gave him both room to not put a lot of pressure against sensitive areas as well as showing off his house color.

He’d spent most of the day recovering as best he could. Still, he was having to press charmed compresses to his face (and other parts of his anatomy) to keep the swelling down. He kept the hood down, though, not afraid to hide the various bruises in different stages of healing. It might give him a little edge in this game.

Not that he had a lot to spend on it. Galleons seemed a high price for friendly poker… and amongst Hogwarts boys, no less. Still, he had enough to play a few good hands. Watching the shadows on his way down, he let out a pent up breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding as he finally neared the room. Glancing around to make sure he was in the right corridor, he heard a voice a bit too loud followed by a laugh.

A few moments later, and he walked into the empty class room, smirking and holding back the desire to wince. “Look what the badgers dragged in.” George gave each a handshake, giving both Zoey and Charlie a raised eyebrow for their outfits. "I think I can hear your pants down the hall, Charlie. What... possessed you?" Finally he pulled his eyes away long enough to notice food. Stopping at the food, pillaging for something to snack on. Once he had a sandwich and butterbeer, he sat down at the table, leaning it back on two feet. He liked this seat; it gave him a view of the room and allowed him to watch the door. “How’s everyone’s night, then?”

10:15 PM

Sebastian rummaged through his trunk for the bottle of firewhiskey he had saved for this particular occasion. He fished out a few shirts and tossed them onto his bed. At the bottom of the trunk laid two very precious bottles: one, of Ogden’s Firewhiskey, and the other, something the Muggles called “vadka”. He picked up both and stuffed them under his hoodie. Sebastian locked the trunk and exited the dorm.

The Gryffindor Common Room was dreadfully empty at night and he found it very easy to sneak out undetected. The only hindrance he worried about was those pesky prefects. They had a nasty habit of showing up at the worst possible moments. He made his way to the dungeons and tiptoed into the empty classroom where they usually met up. Sebastian entered the room and grinned at the sight of Honeydukes sweets, sandwiches, and ice cold Butterbeer.

“Evening, gentleman,” he took out the two bottles and slid them across the table. “Some hard liquor for the losers tonight.” He smirked and took a seat next to George. “I fully intend to rob you all of every sickle you have right now.”

Sebastian pulled out a deck of cards from his pocket and tossed it onto the table. He leaned forward and selected a bottle of Butterbeer from the array of foods and beverages set out before him. He popped off the cap and took a long swig of the sweet liquid. A satisfied sigh escaped his lips.

“So George,” Sebastian nudged his friend and smirked, “I hear there’s something going on between you and that Ravenclaw minx, this true?” He took another swig of the Butterbeer before setting it on the table, “Oh, and anyone else coming tonight?”

10:20 PM

It wasn't... Normal for Trent to be out and about this late. But it was, however, normal for him to be awake. The creeper would usual just sulk in his usual corner, or lay in bed while his roommates dozed down around him, making him feel a bit... Well... Lonely. But, the boy had no means to say this out loud. The last thing Mr. Travis would ever want to do is become... Close with people. He had over-heard about this "Guy's Night" and Trent thought it was pure bullocks. That was until he thought "Well, it IS only guys. I shouldn't have to be called 'Trentcoat' for once." Girls were nasty things. But, little did Trent know, plenty of guys called him 'Trentcoat' also. At least he prefered it better than 'Tater Tot'.

He swaggered through the dungeon corridors, not caring if he got caught. He remembered that Zoey had left not too long before him, but he really didn't think about asking him if they could walk together. He should of asked Jasper... Or Atticus (If he would have come), anyways. But the thought hadn't really occurred to him until just then. Trent made a small frown before he opened the abandoned classroom's door.

Yes, each face he saw was familiar. All the most common faces in the school. Well, most of them... He preferred not to look Dean Sebastian in the face. "Hello, all." Trent gave them all his signature creepy smile, he looked each of the up and down and had nothing to say to Charlie's chaps besides "Umm... I see you like to make everything awkward, eh, Charlie?" Referring to yesterday, the day he found Charlie singing and dancing in the room of requirement. A lovely day that was. "I didn't bring anything to... Erm... Eat. Sorry, Miles." Even though most wouldn't of eaten his food, anyways, because he was, after all, Trent.


(Outfit)

Miles greeted Charlie and George, the former of whom was wearing quite the Hufflepuff-inspired ensemble. “It’s an omen from Helga Hufflepuff,” Miles interjected, grinning as he answered George’s question. “Charlie’s bringing us luck.” Granted, poker wasn’t exactly played in teams, and Miles wasn’t too sour when he lost games. He was more nervous about betting away money he could be spending on various summer shenanigans. He thought of Mairead, and wondered what she’d do with a bag of galleons. Maybe she’d beat them all in poker.

Sebastian appeared next, apparently more of an expert on liquor than Miles, who had only provided the empty nutrition in solid form. Well, and butterbeer. “Ah, hope I don’t lose then, or I’ll be asking Sir Cadagon for directions home.” And that could never end well. “Cheers, Sebastian.” Miles raised a glass butterbeer and took a swig.

The Faraday boy had been on the verge of completing the sentence, “Who has the car--” when Trent arrived, looking comparatively normal. And quite unabashed in pointing out oddities. “No worries, Trent. How are you?”

The lanky Hufflepuff scooped a few crisps out of a bag, into the cusp of his hand, and sank into a seat, balancing the open butterbeer in his opposite hand.