Toko was usually more careful. Sneaking out to Hogsmeade by night to cadge drinks off older men in Three Broomsticks wasn’t smart, but it was terribly fun. Mousy little thing like him needed excitement somehow, no matter how stupid.

Getting caught out in the halls after curfew was one thing, but getting caught in the halls after curfew drunk was another matter. While Toko couldn’t avoid the first – he wasn’t good enough at Charms to turn himself bloody invisible – he managed to mask the second bit with some quick spellwork that put a minty shroud over his breath and the balance back in his wobbly legs.

The the charms had held up long enough for Toko simper out of getting in too much trouble (detention and a couple points from Hufflepuff wasn’t so bad), but were fading by the time he’d very carefully shambled down three floors of those moving staircases. They made him a bit dizzy even when he wasn’t faintly nauseous. So a few minutes were wasted huddled against a wall mewling pathetically, trying to get his head to stop spinning.

Toko managed to drag himself to the vast fruit painting, and when he leaned his forehead against it the apples jostled in annoyance. He mumbled the password and slipped through the gap in the wall the painting made for him, and…

...caught his feet on the entrance’s edge, and went stumbling like an invalid right onto his face. Toko groaned weakly into the plush gold carpet and pushed himself up to sit on his ankles, too busy pawing around on the floor for his glasses to notice any other people lingering late about the common room.

"Haw!"

Figaro Sellaphix barked out an ungraceful laugh.  It was past midnight and seventh-year Toko had swung open the portrait door and took a swan dive into the plush gold Persian rug.  Fig couldn't help an natural boyish affinity to slapstick and couldn't stop up the guffaw.  He felt a little sorry that his first reaction was to laugh rather than check to see if Toko was okay.

Figaro gamboled out of his fireside chair where he and a mate were flicking Snap cards into the fire, where they made little explosions and zipped around before disappearing in ash, or flung out to fizzle on the floor.  It was probably late to be doing such a loud activity, and someone would likely get on his case about it before long.  But he beat them to it, getting up to crouch down on his heels and pat Toko on the head.

"'Ello, mate. Alright there? You know wizards can't fly without broo - wuff!" Figaro caught a whiff of a strong alcohol scent and recoiled back in an exaggerated reaction.

"Vodka much?"

He didn't make any move to help Toko up - Toko could take care of himself, but poking fun at the older boy was compassion enough. 

Toko raked his hands across the carpet until they fumbled over his glasses. He shoved them back on his face, pausing to rub at his eyes before speaking. Heat rushed into his ears so hard it felt like he’d just eaten a fistful of pepper imps.

“I…I’m fine, thank you.” His gaze flicked up to the other boy quick as a hummingbird, deciding the carpet would be less mortifying to look like. “And. And… it was peppermint schnapps, I’ll have you know.”

All of him seemed set on being as far as humanly possible from Figaro without seeming rude. The massive gravitational pull of Toko’s own awkwardness pulled him away from the other boy to the point of almost falling back on his elbows.

Toko made a pointless attempt at smoothing down his hair, as if that would make him look anymore presentable. The black smudges around his eyes, the alcohol stink, and his single shoeless foot said most everything Toko never would.

“Oh dear.” He tugged on his exposed stripey sock, curling his toes in distress. “I do believe I lost a shoe on those…those terrible stairs.” Toko curled his legs into his chest and rest his chin on his knees, trailing off into kneading his temples. He wafted a hand through the air at Figaro.

“I’ll be…alright, I just. Need to sit down for…a bit.”

Figaro snickered again insensitively as Toko scrambled away from him, apparently embarrassed or something.  His candy-colored glasses still a little askance.  He was moving wierd, over compensating when he made some mis-gesture. 

"You're totally bombed, aren't you," he said with an entertained grin.  It wasn't all that common for the students at Hogwarts to mess around too much with alcohol.  Of course it happened, but the punishments were among the worse.  Toko was of age, but booze wasn't allowed at school so he'd face a hiding just the same if he was caught.

"Good job there.  You've got shit on your face.  Black stuff." He motioned towards his own eyes to lead the way.  What was that stuff?  God, Toko was so weird.  Even Figaro felt comfortable kind of messing with him, even though he was a seventh year.  Not with malice, but like mates who gave each other a hard time.  But they weren't mates.  Just housemates. Figaro barely knew anything about him

Dax had been coming back from a workout and a bath in the prefect's bathroom, and it showed - though did he even really need a reason to march around in just jeans and no shirt? - and he was occupied toweling his wet hair and didn't see the shoe that made him lose his footing on the stairs.

One bashed knee and an avalanche of cussing later, he walked to the Hufflepuff portrait with a bit less swagger than originally intended, holding the shoe in one hand and his towel draped over his shoulders. He looked around the common room as he entered and spotted Toko curled up in a chair - he hadn't really registered Figaro's laugh since the sound was such a common one. He tossed Toko's shoe at the boy's feet.

"What the 'ell 'it you, a bus?" Dax asked, looking at the drunken Toko curiously. He sniffed as he started ruffling his wet hair with the towel again. "A bus full of beer?"

“No, I wasn’t hit by a bus. Gosh.”

Toko’s face scrunched up into pout, and he pushed his glasses up into his hair to scrub at his eyes. Not that it helped beyond smearing what was once cheap liquid liner up into his eyebrows. He huffed out an annoyed breath, and gave a thought to fixing his face/clothes/breath/hair with some more magic. But his wand had probably squished somewhere down in the chair cushions, and Toko wasn’t about to clutch around for it.

“Old bastards bought me shots. Then I crawled through a tunnel.”

That was stated plain enough, slurred as it was. Shots, yes. Tunnel, yes.

Toko yawned maginificently, then took to squirming around in the overstuffed chair like a cat trying to get comfortable enough to sleep. He balanced his chin on the arm and curled his legs in tight to his body.

His gaze trailed lazily from the scuffed sneaker flopped at the base of the chair, then up all of Dax. Toko’s brows knit and his nose crinkled, as if trying to puzzle out some terribly hard equasion. Bits were hazy, bits were clear. He blinked a few times to clear the strangeness, but it stayed.

“Oh dear. Am I dreaming?” he asked. “Or…well I wouldn’t have those nasty shoes in a dream. Thanks lots anyway, um...whichever one you are.” Toko smiled hazily, and closed his eyes. Not looking at anything at all, it didn’t matter how in focus his eyes were.

Really his glasses were just badly askew, but hell if he’d notice.

“Why, I say. When’s morning?"

When Dax showed up, Figaro finally got to his feet.  If Toko didn't command much respect, Dax Fayette sure as hell did.  Even though he was friendly, he was the sort of older boy that seemed that much older, wiser and cooler.  Plus the guy looked like goddam Hephestus.

He smiled and greeted him.  "Oi, Dax."

And then, under his breath, corrected him. "Peppermint schnapps..." or so Toko had said.  Figaro'd tried alcohol a few times, drank a whole beer before, but the taste was never that great.  Never been drunk, either.  Toko was flopping around in the chair and slurring his speech.  He really was going to get in major trouble if Fraiser found him passed out like this in the morning, stinking of peppermint and looking like a raccoon.

"It's morning now, dumb dumb.  You're going to pass out if you stay there," he warned soberly, and giving the chairleg a smark kick.

"'Sup, Fig," Dax answered the younger boy, giving him a lopsided grin in response. The younger boy was fun - it was a pity he was a 5th year, really. He'd have been a blast in the dorm.

"An' you shouldn't let old guys hit on you, Toko, they'll get all disappointed when they find out you're..." he settled on, "You're you." He looked back down at Toko. The other 7th year was..cute, in a weird way, as he lolled in the chair - though Dax was a bit miffed he couldn't figure out which twin he was. Dion wouldn't be caught dead marching around wet and shirtless.

His loss.

"Well,whatever you drank, it certainly did a number on you," Dax commented, walking over to the chair. "And bro, you can't sleep down here. If you're gonna pass out you can do it upstairs." Seeing the smaller boy was in no shape to move, Dax shrugged, reached down and bodily picked him up, letting his towel fall to the floor as he held Toko bridal style - he figured tossing him over his shoulder'd make him throw up.

"Night, Fig," Dax said, heading for the stairs.

Toko wanted to say something sharp and eloquent, call him an oaf and request to be put down this instant, but all he managed was something like “Fffffff!". His glasses lost their valiant cling at balance on his nose, and flopped onto his chest.

He didn’t appreciate any of this, no way, and clutched at Dax’s shoulders, all nails like a scared cat.

He wasn’t dumb, for one. If Dax would just move a bit closer to Figaro, Toko figured he’d be at a decent height to kick the fifth year in the head no problem. But figuring out how to word that request eluded him beyond, ‘Please bring me closer to Figaro Sellaphix so that I can put my shoe in his face’. And the sound of that was rather rude.

Oh well. One moment you’re in a chair, the next moment you’re being carried to bed by some wet muscley blonde – Toko squinted against the fuzz – person. Perhaps he was dreaming. Nothing to be done about it, though. Well…

Toko squirmed in Dax’s arms and did his best to peek over his shoulder, back at Fig.

“…’scuse me, Figaro, could you please…? I. I think my wand is in the chair. Won’t miss the shoe much, though.”

Figaro laughed that same uncouth snort of a laugh he'd made earlier, once Dax Fayette just picked up lil' Tokie like he was a firstie with a twisted ankle.  He half expected a fireman carry.  The situation just established even more the contrast between the older boys.  And Figaro who could probably half-drag Toko, arm under his shoulder, but not lift the guy bodily and carry him.  Effing impressive.

"Yea, night, mate," he said.  Good of Dax taking care of Toko like that. 

Toko appeared to struggle weakly, and peeked over Dax at him with those smudgey raccoon's eyes.  He wanted his wand from the chair.

Figaro pulled out the cushion, letting it fall to the floor, and discovered a half-flattened treasure trove of knuts, wadded up parchment, candy wrappers and yes - Toko's wand.  He left the chair unsettled, and trotted it over to Dax and Toko who were nearly to the corridor, and fell in step, walking backwards.

"You're going to bed after this, Dax?" he asked as he tossed Toko the wand.  "You want to play Snap?"

Dax held onto Toko firmly as the smaller boy struggled weakly, ignoring his sounds of protest as he stomped towards the dorms.

He grinned at Figaro as the smaller boy caught up to them and tossed Toko his wand. "Snap? Sure, I'm up for it - too awake t'sleep for a bit anyway. Lemme put a shirt on first, though. I prefer my nipples not blown off, ya know?" He looked down at Toko. "And Toko, if y'gotta vomit, do it on Matty's bed, okay? He's kinda got it comin'."

He headed over to the circular doorway to the 7th year boy's dorm, paused, and looked at Fig. "Mind gettin' the door, Fig?"

Toko flopped a hand over Dax's shoulder gracelessly as a fish to make a grab at his wand. It was slapped by his hand, pinged him square on the forehead, then tumbled down onto his belly to join the glasses. Well. Not as elegant as he'd hoped, but at least it wasn't on the floor. Always a plus.

After gathering up the two articles in his hands, Toko blinked over at Dax's chest to the subject up for discussion. His eyebrows disappeared up into his hair, and a look  of genuine distress stumbled across his face.

"That," he slurred very seriously, "would be painful. And rather difficult to explain. I would be quite sad."

Figaro swung open the big round door to the boys' corridor and it hit the wall with a bang, Figaro ever too loud and lacking any congnizance that some people slept when he wasn't.  Torches in the corridor, which had been barely embers, flared up into low flames as the boys came near, warmly illuminating their way all the way down to the seventh year rooms the older boys shared.

"Whatever you got to do, brov," he responded. 

He watched silly drunky Toko some more, and continued to be perplexed.  What was up with the quiet kid who'd made not so much as a ripple in over six years at school.  Sneaking out to get drunk, wearing too much eye make-up or whatever that was - why didn't he ever act that crazy at school.

"You should party with us sometimes, Tok," he said with a shake of his head.  "We're more fun than old guys."

Dax glanced down at Toko and blushed, very slightly. Of course, Dax'd be sad if he got his nipples blown off - who wouldn't - but it was kind of weird to hear it would make someone else sad. Well, aside from all the ladies. Ok, it was just weird to hear Toko say it. But Toko was weird all over so it was normal, right?

"Good to know, Toko," he said with a grin that belied the confusion he flet. He looked at Fig and then smirked down at Toko.

"Hah! I think the way a lot of us party might break Toko in half," Dax said, laughing. He didn't seem to be paying attention to keeping the noise down either as they headed into the 7th year's doom, the beds in a semi-circle around the firepit. "Besides," he continued," If they're the same old guys who've bought me shots before they don't know how to party worth shit."

He took a moment to remember which bed was Toko's, then marched over to it and put Toko onto it with surprising gentleness, picking his glasses and wand off his stomach and putting them on the side table. Dion didn't seem to be in yet - odd.

It was after midnight, and Fauna couldn't sleep. First, these odd snap-crackle-pops kept bouncing off the wall over her head, jolting her awake. Next, the loud snort-laugh. Because it had sounded like Figaro she'd merely grumbled into her pillow and rolled over. Then the loud voices. More laughter. Loud voices again!

For Merlin's sake!

Fauna threw off her covers and jumped out of bed, fumbling around in the dark until she - ow! Stubbed her toe. Finally, her feet found her slippers, and she pulled her big fluffy robe off the hook and slipped it on over her pajamas.

Just in case, Fauna dropped her wand into her robe pocket, too.

She marched out into the common room, past the lit fireplace, and hesitated at the foot of the stairs leading up the boy's dormitory. Though it didn't have a charm on it like the girl's dormitory did, she still felt like she'd be intruding into some mysterious, forbidden place (complete with the 'mysterious' smell of sweaty socks and chocolate frog wrappers). An invisible sign hung over the stairs, blinking at her: do not pass go. Do not collect 200 galleons.

Loud voices sounded again. That did it! She rushed up the stairs and towards the noise, pausing when she reached the open door to the Seventh-Year Boy's room. Fauna lifted her hand up to knock, but peeked in first when she heard something about a party and old guys. That sounded... worrisome.

"Er..." Fauna frowned in the doorway, hair mussed, clad in her old plaid robe. She blinked for a moment at the shirtless Dax, then glanced at Fig, and then at what appeared to be... Toko?

She waved a hand in front of her face at the whiff of strong alcohol. "Boys!" She shook her head in a scolding manner. Now was not the time to get drunk! Not when the Headmistress and professors were already extra uptight this week, Fauna thought.

"Is everything alright?" She peered at Toko flopped on the bed. "Sorry," Fauna said quickly, face flushing. "I heard... I mean, I was just... I heard stuff."