A sequel, of sorts, to Isolation is the Best Medicine.


Colette, with a twinkle in her eye, just said something especially funny. Maggie couldn’t quite put her finger on why her friend amused her so much, but she giggled and then clapped a hand over her mouth.

There could only be two, maybe three, reasons to explain why such an uncharacteristic sound would come out of her mouth. The first, and least plausible, was that she’d been abducted by aliens and had her brain chemistry modified. The second was that she’d been hit with Rictumsempra. And the third was that she’d had a little too much to drink.

Maggie hiccupped, wrapping one arm around Niobe and the other around Colette. “You guys... are a hoot. Okay! But we have to be serious now. Seriously. Focus! Which drink is better? The Achilles Heel or Medusa’s Dreadlocks?”

When she looked down at the small notebook on the counter in front of her, the writing blurred a bit. The list had started out neat enough, but Maggie’s handwriting had gotten progressively worse as the night went on, with words trailing off the page and checkmarks all helter skelter.

She barely noticed, though. She was too focused on her new article idea, which required her to taste, and judge, every drink on Signature’s menu! Of course, her trusty comrades, Niobe and Colette, were here to help her. They were also here to get their minds off of that no-good Cináed Tawse and his threats. In the middle of a posh club like Signature, surrounded by alcohol and attractive men, Maggie’s visit with Niobe earlier that evening felt like it had happened years and years ago.

Snickering, she reached over and tugged lightly on her friend's hair. “You can’t be biased now, Niobe!” She waved her quill around to make her point, almost jabbing herself in the nose.

Their high top table was cluttered with glasses and caraffes of greater variety than the most respectable Potionary.  They'd been going through the menu, sampling Mr. Grosvenor's strangest concoctions.

Niobe, as she got drunker, had waxed on into increasingly complex and pompous descriptions about drinks that were really not more complex than booze + sugar + spice.

"The Achilles Heel, Margaret, is far superior.  Although it's major flaw is in fact that it its unquenchable pride.  It insists upon itself.  It insists upon itself!  It just won't quit even to the point of death by nemesis!  Medusa's Locks on the other hand have too much snake in it and really, no liqueur should ever presume to rely so heavily on any liquid derived of a serpent!  I blame it on Finn Grosvenor's roots in Slytherin."

She banged the bowl-shaped vessel on the table, which had contained the ouzo-based Achilles Heel.  "But we'll need another to make sure.  Finn.  FINN!" Niobe hollered in vain for the owner, who was slightly too cool to be taking drink orders.

Her demands for service were met by one of the servers who soon delivered another round of Achilles Heels and Medusa's Dreadlocks.  He was careful not to omit the snakeskin garnish on the latter.  When they each had a drink in their hands, Niobe's thrust hers high in the umteenth toast of the evening.

"To Tamis Raynor! May she throw his arse back where he belongs!"

This had to be the most brilliant idea ever. And the company was just what the doctor ordered. Though both Maggie and Niobe had arrived in a somewhat foul -- or "off" -- mood, things were certainly clearing now. At Niobe's flowery -- to her ears, at least -- explanation and evaluation, Colette's expression grew increasingly skeptical, eyebrow rising until she could not keep from smirking.

"I'm not so sure, Niobe. I think that's projecting a good deal, don't you? Got to let the things speak for themselves; you don't get answers from tying things down and interrogating them. . . It's a hard call. I think I need to try them both again. . . just to be sure," she said before breaking out in to a soft, devious chuckle, amused intensely at her own wit and not even having heard Niobe's insinuation. She did, however, jump slightly at the bellowed name.

Not a journalist herself, she was more than happy to ride on the coattails of her two friends and colleagues on this one. Free drinks -- and she didn't even have to flirt for them. But that might come anyhow, she noted, as she eyed the attractive server. Colette had never been a giddy drunk. She grew more sarcastic. And more flirtacious (the two seemed to coincide even when sober). Perhaps a bit more fatalistic. But never giddy. She surveyed her friends with a sort of superior amusement.

Now Niobe was yelling Raynor's name triumphantly and Colette could not help but feel a flutter of exultation that Niobe's toast seemed to demand. She frowned a moment however, glass still lifted Should they really be yelling that aloud? True, the truth would out . . . but . .  The internal editor in Colette cringed somewhat and she drank her drink somewhat thoughtfully. It didn't sound like the thing to yell.

And Colette found herself completely in the dark. "What, what was that?"

Maggie started chuckling again as she wrote down Niobe’s evaluation in her notebook, underlining the ‘pride’ for Achilles and the ‘snake’ under Medusa’s Locks.

“You’re right. His Slytherin roots must have something do with the drink selection. Have you noticed there are no drinks referring to the Hufflepuff house? Nothing like a badger’s claw, or the Fat Friar, or even something swirled with yellow and black. I know it’s not the most glamorous, but still-” She cut her grumbling off as Niobe shouted for Finn.

“Yeah, another round just to make sure!” Maggie echoed her friends with a grin.

The server, perhaps a bit put off by their boisterousness but not put off by the prospect of coin, gave them their drinks quickly. Maggie raised her Achilles Heel, some of the liquid sloshing over the sides, and laughed loudly at Niobe’s toast.

“Hear, hear! If I have anything to say about it- and I always have something to say,” she raised her eyebrows comically at Colette, missing her friend’s blank expression. “It’ll happen sooner rather than later. It just needs to be… nudged along,” she snickered, giving the glass of her drink a light tap and almost upsetting it.

Finally, at Colette’s confusion, she remembered just a little bit that they were out in public and probably shouldn’t be shouting their schemes to the world. “Oh. I’ll fill you in later,” she whispered conspiratorially, her voice still carrying farther than she perceived. “Niobe, I can fill her in, right?” Colette was surely trustworthy enough. And wasn’t she seeing that former Auror?

Lights, dancers, alcohol, that was what Altair wanted to complete his night with. Earlier he's been in Knockturn Alley, partying and celebrating, and now he wanted to complete the night at Signature, the local club very close to his residence. His outfit had changed, though, from the all white pinstripe suit to something more casual and fun. Smiling to himself, it was later now, and he could get down and dirty in a more Biblical sense of the term.

He entered the club with stride, noticing some teens in corners, others liquoring themselves, while he passed by them. Some girls, though he wouldn't give a second glance, eyed him with fervor. A particular Asian girl, eyes caked in blue and green eyeshadow, gave him a heavy smile, which he returned with temptation, but declined as he was not for the fairer sex.

Scanning the bars, he noticed three girls, two of whom he was well acquainted. He walked over to them, situating himself next to Margaret Groust. "Hello, loves. How are you beautiful ladies tonight?"

This was not Isaac's usual hang out.  He knew he should be reading and grading essays, but he had received an owl from an old friend to meet him at the Signature.  It had been a last minute request, and Isaac, as per usual, had been unable to say no.  So, he found himself trying not to appear out of place as he entered the club.

Looking around he tried to ignore the students who had clearly snuck out to enjoy the nightlife.  As he made his way to the bar he pushed up the sleeves of his blue sweater a bit, choosing a seat where he could easily see the door.  With a slight sigh he tried to push away the list of things he should be doing in that moment to simply enjoy an unexpected evening out.

He ordered a beer and when it came, he turned in the seat slightly to see who else might be at the club that evening.  At one of the high tops their was a group of women and a man approaching them.  The table had various empty glasses covering the surface, causing Isaac to smirk slightly.  Apparently they were already enjoying their evening.

James had decided to go to the club because he wanted to do something different after practice other than sleep or study omnocular film.  He had dressed in a grey robe with a small Durmstrang crest sewed on the upper left part of his robe, just slightly above the center of his heart.  Underneath that, he was wearing a white dress shirt and a dull yellow tie.  He wondered what his brother thought of the place, since he mentioned it a few times, but it sounded like he did not really spend much time there.  As James walked into the club he was surprised at the amount of underaged witches and wizards there, and decided he needed to find some company his own age.

As James searched the room, he first saw a table full of girls and empty glasses.  James decided not to think of it for the moment, and walked up to the bar.  As he approached the bar, he saw a gentleman in a blue sweater order a beer.  He did not know the man’s name, purpose or anything else, but James figured he should at least introduce himself.  He should at least try to make himself sociable.

After ordering a beer, he sat on the stool next to the gentleman in the blue sweater and asked, “So is the crowd always this young, or did I come on a bad night?”

Niobe downed the Heel and straight away the Medusa.  A brief shiver of nervousness washed over her and she looked over her shoulder - she had forgotten that her conflict with Cinaed hadn't been a lovers' spat but rather a death threat.  Probably unwise to loosen the tongue here and now.

"Yeah, sure, Mags. Later!  Loose lips sink ships!"

But by now they'd been approached by a local - Altair Gairden whom Niobe had met at the grand opening of his magical beast clinic.  That's where she'd seen hippogriffs up close for the first time. 

"Altair - pleasure! How's business? Have those depressed kelpies from Japan come around yet? I've heard chocolate's great for the blues."

In saying that, Niobe decided what drinks would be next.  With a word to a passing cocktail waiter she ordered four steaming vials of chocolate slurry.

Myrni Levartian gently tugged on the arm of her very good friend, Hayden MacGregor. He had braved a trip from London to spend some time his two children and when Myrni found out he was there, she insisted that he come out to Hogsmeade with her to enjoy the night. She had heard about the bar/nightclub/restaurant there and was interested in checking it out. Of course, she hated the thought of going alone and in many ways, she still did not feel close enough to many of her colleagues to suggest it.

But, with Hayden here, presto! Problem solved, she triumphantly mused, sneaking a quick glance at her Scottish friend. She hoped he would stop griping long enough to see the potential for fun.

As if sensing her looking at him, Hayden feigned a glowering expression as he looked down at her. "Ah dinnae ken why ye need me ta gae," he gruffly complained in his Scottish drawl.

"Oh stop!" she implored him, grasping his arm a little tighter and practically dragged him down the stairs of the establishment to the entrance hall. "It's won't be that bad. Really."

"Mmmhmm," he responded, his blue eyes still skeptical. "Ah dinnae ken why ye need tae come either. Last Ah checked, ye were engaged tae one Mr. Whitman--"

"Oh I am," Myrni breezily replied, shrugging out of her coat and handing it off to a person accepting them. "But he's back in London working and I'm here." Then she turned back to Hayden and matter-of-factly declared, "Besides, I may not be looking for someone for me, but that doesn't mean I can't hope to find someone for you..."

Myrni's impish grin was tempered just enough with a knowing look at Hayden, waiting to see his expression darken at the unspoken mention of his being a widower. Despite the unfortunate event happening ages ago, Hayden rarely put himself out there--unless he was forced to when Myrni was trying to play matchmaker, bless her romantically idealistic heart.

Resisting the urge to audibly groan, the Scot reluctantly followed his vibrant friend to the 'hip and happening' area of the establishment. He tried not to look as out of place as he felt and was content to follow Myrni's lead to the bar area so that they could order drinks.

She seemed driven by a mission to have fun...and play matchmaker. Already her eyes were scanning the room for individuals she might recognize or felt were welcoming enough to perhaps join in conversation or a few drinks. She spotted one of her colleagues, Isaac, and not wanting to interrupt his conversation, she flashed him a friendly smile and waved. There would be plenty of time to bend his ear later once she accomplished a certain little mission.

Myrni then made a bee-line straight for a group of individuals who appeared to be in their age range (whatever that was). She was hoping that at least one of the young women sitting there would be single and looking. Stepping up to the table, she smiled brightly at them and said, "Hi, I'm Myrni. I hope you won't mind the intrusion, but I was wondering if we might join you folks." She pointed to Hayden and added, "This is my single Scottish friend, Hayden...."

“Here,” she shoved two drinks (the Heel and the Medusa) at Altair with a grin. “Try this one, and then this one, and tell me which one you like better and why. It’s for a very important article,” she joked, knowing that this night was more ‘for fun’ than anything serious.

Maggie scanned the rest of the bar, looking for people she knew and potential victims to test out the drinks they’d ordered. She’d expected the men to flock to them tonight, especially with Colette in tow, but as far as she could tell, they’d only received a few amused, curious glances. That would have to change. Maggie wasn’t sure she trusted her flirting skills, but maybe she’d try to scout the room and be friendly. Stranger things had happened!

She glimpsed two handsome men sitting together and nudged Altair with her arm. “I have my beer goggles on, so I just want to make sure- they’re cute, right?” Maggie waited to see if he knew who she was talking about. “The one in the blue sweater and the one in the gray- shit, they saw me looking!”

Maggie turned back to her friends abruptly, pretending to sip her drink like nothing had happened. Of course, the whole point of hanging out in a club was to make eyes at handsome men, but as she’d suspected, her flirting skills left much to be desired. Perhaps that’s why Frank was off picking up crazy chicks in Knockturn Alley, she thought, her expression darkening.

To her surprise, a feminine voice sounded behind her. At first she thought she must seriously be sending out the wrong signals, but then she heard the words ‘single friend’ and perked up. Maggie turned to look at the pair and gave them a lopsided smile. Scottish? The sexy accent suited the sexy man.  He also seemed a bit out of place here, which was cute. Maggie always felt that way in clubs, even though she was having a great time now.

“Yeah, feel free to join,” she said, glancing at Colette and Niobe to see their reactions. “I’m Maggie. This is Colette, Niobe, and Altair.” According to Maggie, Myrni and her friend were very welcome to interrupt. Her eyes lingered on Hayden. She quickly concluded that there was nothing wrong with a little flirting, especially since she still didn’t know where she stood with Frank, who for all she knew, was chatting up hex-happy Iza tonight.

Myrni smiled brightly at the woman, instantly liking her for the warmth she extended to them. "Thank you so much! It's very nice to meet you, Maggie." Then Myrni nodded to the woman's friends as well, genuinely looking forward to getting to know them. Because she had been away from England for a while, she admittedly felt lonely. Aside from Hayden and Nathaniel, she lacked a consistent circle of friends. Even when she went out of her way to extend herself to others, eventually, whether by chance or by choice, she always ended up alone.

Turning to Hayden, Myrni lightly elbowed him in the side. "See? This is not so bad," she told him. She sent him a look that implored him to interact more, instead of standing off to the side like a bump on a log.

"Just as long as we are nae ginnae sing," he jokingly muttered. "Ye always manage tae get me to these things and then ye mention some strange twist." Hayden brought a hand up to drag through his dark blonde hair, but he ventured a smile to the young woman before him, hoping she wouldn't be able to read through to see his nervousness. Truth be told, dating scared the daylights out of him. Life was so much easier back in his shop.

"I only make you sing karaoke when we're in need of a bass tone. And you're bass-y enough," Myrni quipped, indicating the length of him. She turned back to Maggie and the others. "Don't you think?"

Hayden blushed and looked ready to protest the assessment, but he couldn't help grinning a bit more. Not really sure what to say instead, he shrugged and blurted out, "Does anyone need a drink?

Another man approached the bar and Isaac gave him a slight nod as a greeting before the man spoke.  “So is the crowd always this young, or did I come on a bad night?”   Scanning the crowd again, Isaac managed to catch one of the women at the table look at him.  He chuckled slightly as she realized she had been caught, before turning his attention back to the other man.

"I don't come here that often," he admitted.  "But, yes the crowd does seem a bit young."

The place seemed to cater to a younger crowd.  It wasn't surprising to find a sixth or seventh year sneaking out of the dorms to come here.  The few times he had been inside the Signature had been on the weekends when someone had ratted out a classmate.  It was refreshing to be there for a slightly different reason.

He tried not to focus on the things he should be doing.  Everything would be there tomorrow, even if procrastination was against his usual nature he would let it be for tonight.  After five years he wondered if perhaps it was time to change a few of his habits...Perhaps getting out more would be good.

"Isaac Fraiser," he said, extending his hand to the man next to him.

After confirming that the crowd did seem a bit young, the man introduced himself as "Isaac Fraiser," and James shook his hand.  “James Forrester, pleasure to meet you,”. 

He tried to remember where he’d heard Isaac’s name before, maybe from a couple of the draft prospects out of Hogwarts.  James was drawing a blank on that regard, and figured if the guy was nice enough, they’d talk more.  James saw a couple of underaged witches looking either at him or Isaac, but he would be hard pressed to tell which one.  He would also be hard pressed to find if any of them are legal.

“Well, at least the faces are friendly – if questionably legal.  I do not think I have ever seen this many witches blatantly look over me before.  Or they could be looking at you.  Either way, I feel like a quaffle in a crowd full of chasers.  This happen to you often?” James asked feeling a little bit out of place.  James wondered if he should start dating someone seriously so he would not have to worry about that.  He thought about it for all of one second before thinking of his ever-so-charming sister-in-law.

One of the bartenders had made his way to Finn's office, having a good old laugh about a group of girls who seemed slightly worse for wear, and were shouting of Finn. Finn leant back in his chair and ran his hands through his messy hair, a grin playing on his lips. He shrugged at the bartender. "I can't help that I'm so popular." he flashed a toothy grin at the bartender, before standing up and stretching his arms, letting a yawn overcome his whole body.

"I think I need to see this for myself." The bartender nodded in agreement and led the way out into the bar. When Finn entered the bar, his eyes scanned the room. The bartender pointed out the group of girls. Finn's lips tugged upwards at the sides. Maggie Groust. Niobe Thursby. And someone he wasn't too familiar with. He shook his head chuckling to himself. He had never seen Maggie drunk before, but this would be a very interesting night. Come to think of it, he'd never seen Niobe drunk either - she had always been her most professional self when he had met her.

The bartender whispered something in his ear and Finn grinned again, one eyebrow slightly raised. So, it was Niobe Thursby who had Finn's name on her lips, eh? Well, that was different. The young man leant against the bar at the far end of the room, and watched as others joined the group. First, Altair Gairden, and then a young woman with an awkward looking gentleman in tow.

Finn pushed himself away from the bar and made his way towards where the glasses were housed. He picked a silver tray, grabbed a pile of shot glasses and a two bottles of liquor - one with an apple flavour, the other with a cherry flavour. He winked at the bartender. "This is where it comes in handy owning the place."

He made his way swiftly towards the table that housed the raucous group - wherever the party was at, he wanted to be there. "Ladies, gentlemen." he greeted them with a nod. "May I join you?" He jerked his head towards the drink on his tray, as though using it as a peace offering. The last time he had seen Maggie, she had been less than impressed with him, assuming he was still the same ass he had been in school. However, he had hoped that since his 'date' with Kia Ferris, she may have changed her opinion of him.

Colette had been inspecting and relishing her Achille's Heel silently, eyes flitting to the table where two men -- mid thirties, if she had to guess -- were seated. Good pick indeed, for Colette recognised immediately James Forrester of Tutshill . . . well, not nearly fame. The man was a reserve but according to her mother, a prominent Quidditch reporter and commentator, had potential. He visited her father's Quidditch shop often enough. Colette felt a slight twist in her stomach whenever she saw someone like that. She wondered if she ought to have joined the Harpies. Damn.

She didn't know the other man, but he seemed rather attractive.

None of this had a chance to be communicated, however, for soon Altair Gairden arrived. She smiled wolfishly at his compliment -- he didn't mean it, surely, and that was exactly the way she liked such compliments -- and moved her stool slightly to the side so that he might slide in beside her. "Mr Gairden," she said smoothly. "A fine gent coming to a place like this all alone? We can't have that. Have a seat."

And next -- it seemed a downright Canterbury processional or parade -- a woman who seemed a few years their senior came with a Scotsman highlander who seemed to fit so well the stereotype, Colette hardly felt the need to ask many questions about him. Surely a man like that was just what he appeared to be. Pleasant, with an affable smile and a blushing complexion. And attractive. As for the woman -- Colette usually didn't chat with female strangers when drinking. She had her principles.

And Maggie's eyes lit up as she glanced at the Scot. And here, she decided. Scotsman: all Maggie's. It was a sign of affection for Colette -- she didn't usually yield when it came to men. But roommates always came first. Because you lived with them. Men came and went; even if you did live with them.

And Colette wasn't particularly thinking about men anymore. Well, one man. The man that Niobe had gushed about. The one Tamis was to throw in jail.

She took a sip of her drink and pulled her smile into a grimace as it went down.

The parade was still going strong: next, Finn Grosvernor. A family friend and one of her cousin Nicola's. Though she didn't much know the kid. "Finn," she greeted levelly and would have moved to make room but realised as she went about shifting that to do so would be to jostle Altair. "If you can squeeze in," she smirked. "Drinks are excellent, by the way," she said, lifting her glass slightly in tribute.