OOC: This post contains references to underage drinking, and eventually stripping is probably going to be involved. Just a heads up.

This summer, Deus had disposed of a body and possibly killed someone (or two, hard to say). He'd been hexed, cursed, beaten up and battered. His foster family had tried to have him killed, and he'd betrayed them in return, though they didn't know it. He'd broken into a few houses, smuggled selkie tails and other magical goods through the Scottish cliffs, brewed poisons, conned tourists, threatened shopkeeps, and jaywalked.

He was ready for some downtime.

And so, to a few select friends--and one or two who weren't friends, but might lighten things up--Deus had sent an...invitation. It was a fairly self explanatory invitation, provided one could figure out it was from Deus, and could find a map to put it on and finish the enchantment, and to Deus's way of thinking, if someone couldn't figure it out, well, they probably weren't going to be that interesting of a card player and it wasn't much of a loss.

 There was, in addition to the fancy flesh memory on the cards, quite the nasty little hex. Deus Deres was no Hermione Granger--you so much as breathed a word about his secret meetings, and you'd find yourself with a lot worse than a case of bad acne--you'd have "rat" carved out of your cheek like a butterfly knife through paper. It was a recent addition to the spellwork, but lately Deus had discovered that where betrayal had sort of vaguely annoyed him in the past, now it just downright pissed him off. And that was problematic.

 He was draped over one of the ratty couches in the shack, more upside down than rightside up, cigarette dangling lazily from his lips and smoke escaping in hazy, caterpillar-like circles. He was clearly favoring his left side, and the bandages covering the sectumsempra slashes were clearly visible over the neckline of his t-shirt. He had some stitches on his head, but the bruises, for the most part, had faded. His left hand hung limp, three of the fingers blackened but healing, as though they'd been cut apart and then burned but still managed to be reattached. Up his arm, hidden at the moment, were matching burns that wrapped around his arm like a lover, tangled, deep and unpleasant.

A slow, wicked grin pulled on his lips as he heard the first knock. At least one person had figured it out. You needed the card to get in--it wasn't an advanced spell, and was fairly easily broken, but Deus figured the small precaution could at least buy them enough time if someone undesirable showed up--like the authorities--and prevent completely random visitors bursting in.

One advantage of his pseudo family--technically speaking, he was a boarder, not a family member--was that they ran a pub. A pub that had as many illegal drinks as it did legal, and bottles and cans were scattered among the shack, though they mostly still held the illusion charms the bar kept on them, making them appear like harmless soda or lemonade. There were green shotglasses ringed in a circle where a deck of cards lay carelessly in a half-hearted stack.

There were, noticeably, no poker chips.

A pale, slender hand reached for the precariously balanced hairbrush on her open windowsill. An eyebrow, nearly as pale as the hand, rose slightly. The same fingers closed around a playing card, the Queen of Diamonds, and pulled it out of the bristles.
Suddenly, Demitria Strelnikov’s face brightened noticeably. There were only three people with both the skill and the stupidity to climb up to her second story window that looked over the edge of a cliff. Not to mention in an unplottable location that was filled with powerful pureblooded warning charms.

Her money, and she had no lack in that department, was on Deus Deres. After the roadtrip with Huxley and Xavier, she had been suffering from terrible boredom. Okay, she had been home only for a few days, but still! Putting up with Nika, her grandmother, was more than she could handle.

Damn purist bitch.

Finding a map, after all, Deus had used this spell before, she placed the Queen on it. Her green eyes widened slightly when it very clearly pointed to the Shrieking Shack. She could already tell that this was going to be fun. She went to her closet and redressed completely. If she knew Deres, it would probably involve alcohol and eventual discarding of clothing. Thus, she could never be too careful. And of course, Demitria Strelnikov was not going to lose. Losing wasn’t a trait she had inherited.
 
It was a warm summer night, but she had pulled a ½ sleeve sweater over her head as an afterthought. It was slightly chilly. Slipping into the lower floor of the small-ish manor, she flooed to Vasily’s in Hogsmeade. Sneaking out of his house with a smirk, she walked to the Shrieking Shack. Taking the Queen of Diamonds, she put it to the door. It opened without hesitation.

She was the first one there. Strellie was usually late, but apparently, her skill at charms (and knowledge of Deus’s habits) had leant her an advantage. She swept into the room and smiled at Deus. She kissed him on both cheeks, a habitual greeting, and the smell of smoke and alcohol filled her lungs.

“Well, hello Deus,” she smirked. “What mischief do you have planned for tonight?”   

Huck and Deus were the type of friends that had socked each other in the face a few dozen times each. They had spit and tussled and punted and scratched and overall maimed each other on more than a handful of occasions, but for some reason they always immediately resumed normal friendship status after each fight.

However, the knowledge of that made Huck warier rather than more lax, and he had, as a result, been too skittish to separate the clothespin and the card from the boxers, and was sneaking around Hogsmeade in the dark now clutching a pair of boxers that- well, yeah, could have done with a good wash. He had to give Deus that.

Since he'd received the invite, he'd been pressing the card to the map through the underwear. Whatever his friends had to say about his poor wash habits, Huck was in no mind now to pay attention.

Because there was a distinct likelihood that he would be seeing boobs-

girl boobs-

within the hour.

Huck held up his boxers- hearts emblazoned across them, ironically, like a 1950s newspaper comic- and entered the Shack when his friend opened the door. He was incredibly pleased to find Strellie already there. "Nice one plannin' this over the summer when there's no layers," he grinned idly and tugged at his wifebeater as if for proof.

When Gracie stepped out of the shower, back into her room, and found that photo leering at her from the depths of her underwear, she had been wearing nothing more than a damp towel. As such, the thing had gotten a blank look—one that bore volumes of what the HELL—before it was picked up and her face broke out into a delighted grin.

He would put it there.

Deus Deres. Out of all the names she had left behind, his was by far one of the most memorable. The guy was, after all, too much like her not to be—that is to say, relaxed, good-looking, and a humongous flirt, not to mention their similarly laid-back personalities meshed well in that way opposites simply couldn’t. When they had broken up, it had come as a surprise to no one that the two of them remained good friends, and had they not his friendship would have been one of the very few she would’ve actually missed. So to see his handiwork now, when they weren’t at Hogwarts, well. . .

Once she had found something to wear, the card had been lazily tucked away into her front with a faint smirk. When Deus Deres put out a call like this of course she was going to go.

Especially when, knowing him, there was going to be some fun tonight.

Not long after it had shut quietly behind Huck did the door creak open again, revealing the green-eyed Slytherin who slinked in with a smile. A playing card hung loosely from her fingertips. Catching the tail end of the conversation, “You would notice that,” she said, grinning affectionately as she trailed that free hand across his back, and the card was tucked behind the fishnet once again.

Continuing onwards to greet the others, Gracie drew close to Mimi for an air kiss—“Hey, love”—and leaned down to cheerfully flick Deus’ nose. “Queen of hearts? Really, Deres?”

The growth spurt that had started taking its sweet time during fifth year had apparently found its stride in Deus.  He was an easy two inches taller than he'd been the last time he'd been in Hogsmeade last spring. And there was…an edge in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. But he was trying. Keep it light. Keep it playful. Keep it easy. Keep it fun. And as he looked at his friends, mischief and mistrust in their eyes, something in the secretive boy relaxed and felt properly sixteen again. He doused his cigarette and stood immediately when Demitria entered, returning the kisses on her cheeks with a sort of vague amusement. He’d never understood kissing on the cheek when you had two perfectly acceptable lips to use, but the gesture was so classically Strellie that he resisted the temptation to turn his head the last minute and catch hers. Besides, she’d probably expect it, and he liked to be unexpected.

So instead, without any more warning than the glitter in his eyes, hidden by the movement of greeting, he abruptly swept his foot, aiming to sweep her feet out from under her. Simultaneously, an arm reached for her waist and one of her hands, wrapping around to catch her in a charming parody of a tango dip. “Mischief? Me? Sweetlin’, cannae a lad in love send an invitation tae a lass jes tae ‘ave a night tae themselves?” His eyes, warm and hazel, were a perfect mask of puppy dog adoration.

He was busted, almost instantly, by the entrance of Huxley. Snickering, he dropped the puppy love eyes and twirled Strellie to her feet—assuming she let him, of course—and ducked his head to whisper in her ear, “Whoops, we’ve been caught, dearest. Jes act natural!” Keeping an arm around her waist—again assuming he was allowed, though the gesture was easy and non-threatening—he smirked at his old friend, sometimes rival, and frequent fellow head-basher. In the literal sense. The smirk didn’t last long as he commented about the layers, as the young Scot instead pulled a face, arranging his features into a perfect expression of wounded innocence. “Ah’ve got no idea what ye mean.” He released Strellie to smack Huck heartily on the back, though the movement was interrupted by a wince as he forgot about his bad shoulder.

And his favorite ex sauntered through the door. Gracie’d always been special. They hadn’t been meant for each other—really, looking back on it, Deus suspected boredom and curiosity as the major driving forces between their initial hookup, and what made them friends, so similar, as the cause of why they didn’t last—but she’d always amused him, and that, from Deus, was the ultimate emotion in a friendship. “Gracie!” He called with delight.

He caught the hand she used to flick his nose, using it to pull her forward with his own calloused palm, and swooped, placing a perfectly brotherly kiss on her lips that he did his best to ensure didn’t look brotherly. He had a…a curiousity he wanted satisfied. A curiosity that seemed a bit more likely, noticing the lingering path of Gracie’s hands.  And he figured, if he was right, both she and Huck would be too distracted to notice where his fingers slipped, quick as smoke and just as light. He pulled back from the kiss.

He fluttered his curly eyelashes absurdly and clapped his hands over her ears, though she was clearly meant to hear the exaggerated stage whisper of “Yup. Strellie got diamonds ‘cause she’s prettiest.” A roguish wink accompanied the declaration, without shame. Since it was a well known fact Deus would tell any girl, up to and including the sweet little old portrait of Grisveltwinna the Grizzled (done at the prime age 97 and ¾), that she was the prettiest in the whole world, this didn’t mean much. But if you didn’t know that, the ringing, boyish sincerity in his voice would be quite convincing. He lifted his hands and placed them over his heart. “And ye got hearts because ye’ll always ‘ave mine.” And never mind he’d just been declaring a tryst with Strellie not five minutes earlier. “Ye jes’ crook yer little finger and Ah’ll come runnin’.” He paused, and flipped two fingers up, between which was a blank card, that, at his touch, regained its colors and the queen of hearts, in all her glory. “Though ye might wannae find a better ‘idin’ spot, lass.” He winked, his fingers twitched, and the card vanished.

Releasing Gracie with another perfunctory, friendly peck on the lips, he turned and straightened. He didn’t mind acting like a fool—what did he care what people thought? There was no family pride to uphold, no social obligation—but without fail, he always settled back into a casual, easy mellow. Reaching around behind the couch, he smoothly came up with a very unassuming, unlabeled bottle—at least, until he tapped it with his wand and a murmured spell, and then blew on it as though to remove a layer of dust. The bottle turned green, or so it appeared until Deus swung it once by the handle. The bottle was clear, the liquid was green. Complete with green fairy dust shimmering throughout the emerald fluid. This was real absinthe—the stuff that had been banned both in the muggle world and the magical world after batches of it had gotten into the muggle population and caused all sorts of havoc that even a bevy of Obliviatiors couldn’t completely keep from getting into muggle history books. He hadn’t had anything to drink today but water, but he was ready to change that.

“We ain’t all ‘ere yet. But it might take th’ edge off. Ladies first?” Smiling, a complete picture of innocence, Deus tossed the bottle to Strellie, but there was no mistaking the edge of challenge in his raised brow.

Demitria watched as Deus got up slyly from where he had been smoking his cigarette. She could already see the impish grin spreading across his playful face. The tiny blonde looked at him askance and raised an eyebrow before reaching up and giving him her usual cheek kisses. Honestly, she was surprised that he didn’t try to snatch a kiss from her. In the past, he had always tried to turn his head at the last moment and taste her pretty round, rosebud lips. He hadn’t succeeded yet. The first time, he had been really close, but by now, she knew him.

Or she thought she did. He didn’t go in for the friendly peck after all. Good.

She pulled away, but suddenly found herself falling. She tensed herself to hit the ground (she was a quidditch player and what sort of chaser didn’t know how to fall?), but was caught by her waist and hand. It was surprising, considering she had excellent natural balance. Nevertheless, one look at that face and she knew it was no mistake of hers.

Deus Deres that insufferable bastard. With his puppy dog eyes and lazy grin and charming words. He whispered his words to her and she couldn’t help but laugh. “You know, Deus darling, the Tango is made for people with a lesser... height difference.” The motion was supposed to end with her face very close to his, but instead, her face was closer to his chest.

She heard a creak and was spun around. She laughed at the motion (thank god she wasn’t wearing heels) and landed in a very comfortable position with Deus’ hand around her waist in a protective, friendly gesture. “Huck!” She chimed when she saw the next player.

Hearing his comment, she rolled her green eyes. “Dearest, I came prepared to win,” she said. And she had. There was no way she was wearing less than six layers to anything that involved other Slytherins. Seeing Gracie come in just moments after, Strellie and Deus detached themselves and greeted the other two.

Demitria gave cheek kisses to both Huxley and Gracie. She didn’t have to worry about any imporper motives behind those two. She snickered when Deus kissed Gracie twice. Those two were interesting. They had been dating before the Russian had known Gracie well, but hell, if they could remain good friends, that was no problem with her. And Deus kissed everyone. And gave everyone compliments. That didn’t stop Mimi from primping slightly when he mentioned why she had gotten the Queen of Diamonds. She fluttered her eyelashes and said “Or maybe it was my fondness for them.” With a wink she jiggled the snake bangle that she wore pretty much every day.

The Russian comfortably sat herself down on the couch and let herself lounge prettily. Before she knew it, Deus pulled another card out of his sleeve.

“Absinthe?” Demitria smirked. “Didn’t know the smuggling of that went that far north. When my father dealt it, it stopped mostly at Normandy.” She shrugged. “Probably didn’t want to encroach on anyone’s soil.” Her blonde head shook back and forth. “Man of many talents, aren’t you Deres?”

Taking the bottle that she was tossed, Strellie uncapped it and took a drink. “Like 80 proof vodka. Honestly, I much prefer it mixed, but a rich girl has her tastes.” She felt the warmth and strength of the drink send tingles down her throat. She passed it on to Huxley who was next to her.     

Liviana had not been amused by her summons. She knew exactly what Deus was trying to do and it had worked! Her mother had not let up on the so-called descrete brown paper package (ok bag) that had arrived for her at breakfast. She wanted to know who it was from, if Liv had been keeping a secret boyfriend from her, what sort of family was this boy a part of. Liv, being an excellent half truth teller told her it was a joke from one of the girls (Deus could be considered one of the girls). That wasn't what had annoyed her really - she liked his jokes usually, it was the conversation that came after - the conversation about Liv needed to be serious, that Dazmond had been settled into a happy relationship with a nice pureblood boy by her age and these were important things to think about. Livi didn't point out (because she loved her mother, and knew part of it was old fashioned worry) that her sister had also broken up with that boyfriend to marry a half blood who (if Liviana was not mistaken) amounted to a smidge more than a pickpocket.

Liv loved her sister, her family, but sometimes they made her batty. It was this fact alone that kept her from rushing off to kill Deus for the little stunt. She needed a night to blow off some steam. It would keep her from thinking too much about Lucas (it was a habit she was trying desperately to get out of, knowing she could very well see him at the Arrival Ceremony). She languished in a tub full of vanilla water for much longer than usual and then dressed with painstaking care, loading her arm with several bangles, and adoring the rest of her body with jewelry that she would demand counted as articles of clothing. She was going to enjoy herself - but not so much that she ended up in her knickers (because knowing Deus there would be pictures). Off the top of her head she knew it would be there core group - or what she liked to think of as their core group. She also knew there was a fair shot he'd have invited Mimi, Neely, and Kitty. She really hoped she was wrong about the last one, really. Liviana could just not pretend to be nice tonight.

Before sneaking quietly out her window, she downed the majority of the beer Deus had sent with the card. She had her map and a few other supplies stuffed into a bag but still managed to scale the ivy covered terrace like a pro. She didn't need anymore questions so she was circumventing the problem by sneaking out. Normally there were three people she didn't lie to her in her life; her parents & Gracie - but after the conversation earlier in the day she was a bit fed up. Besides she was properly sixteen now, another year and she'd be an adult and then what would they do? Getting to the Shrieking Shack was easy enough (even in heels so high she'd be almost as tall as the boys), but she took her time anyway. She wanted to make a bit of an entrance but not so much of an entrance she would be stuck with Kitty. The last month and a half had been a nice break from their false niceties. Standing outside the musty building (if one could call it a building) she checked her stockings, seams, and makeup in a star-lit mirror before throwing open the door and striking a pose, "The Queen of Spades has arrived to take your money, your jewels, and your booze".

Huck cracked his knuckles excitedly, accepting the bottle from Strellie and taking a tentative smell. He had never had absinthe before, but good God, Strellie seemed to know boatloads about it. But alas, Strellie was far more worldly than he himself was, and as such he eyed the bottle with slight suspicion. Had he heard that it made people go crazy? Or was it just his mind playing tricks on him?

With a shrug that was meant more for himself than for anyone else, he took a hearty- and perhaps too-big- swill of the drink, and unfortunately for him it was way stronger than he had anticipated. He sputtered slightly, but he was still able to keep it all neatly within the confines of his lips. Swallowing it bit by bit wasn't easy, but he managed it. Slight, lingering highlights of anise played with the burning feeling in his mouth, and he could feel it trickling down his throat still like hot lava.

When he had drained his mouth, he coughed gratefully and nodded. "Brilliant," he said agreeably, though if he'd had his druthers he would have been on the floor screaming and writhing. Then he passed the bottle to Gracie with a look that attempted to communicate exactly how flooring he found the drink.

When Livi came in, his face brightened a bit. "Ey-up, kidda!" he called, idly rubbing the spot between his throat and stomach with one hand, trying to relax the churn of heat that still wormed inside him.

Once she managed to wriggle her way out of Deus’. . . enthusiastic attentions, Gracie hung back at Huck’s side, still grinning at the first boy’s audacity as she accepted the bottle from the other. The nerve of some people. . .

Sure, such dicking around was old hat between them, but he was clearly losing it if he thought she didn’t have an idea what he was playing at, the arse. Sometimes the git was just too perceptive for comfort—especially when it came to things that were not any of his business. Still, she was nowhere near upset as another girl might have been. If Deus had been hoping for a reaction, he hadn’t gotten one—or, much of one, and for that she couldn’t complain.

And the drink. . .

She had had absinthe before (Eamon did like to keep a bottle or two himself), but the one she’d just accepted with a smirk burned in a way that those previous drinks hadn’t. Almost immediately did it seem to flush through her body and shoot straight to her toes; when Liv made her grand entrance there was the faintest suggestion of pink to her cheeks, and that throaty drawl of hers had a touch more rasp than usual. “Liv, darling,” Gracie crooned, scooping up the petite girl in a one-armed hug. She pressed a kiss to the girl’s cheek, and as she pulled away just enough to hold up the bottle between them, “I’m afraid I’ve neither the first nor the second, but I do offer this lovely thing to you~”

No, Gracie was not drunk. But alcohol had a way of putting her in a mood more fit for parties, and with the drink as strong as it was this time was no exception.

   

Kitty was furious. And strangely intrigued. So, why was she on the way to Deus's ridiculous little poker game? It was beneath her, and what even irked her more was the Aristocracy's involvement with such childish pursuits. Their maturity, their aloofness, that's what separated them from the masses of screaming, acne-ridden schoolchildren. That, and sheer class, of course. Kitty reasoned with herself that her attendance was merely facilitated by the others; she couldn't miss out if they were going. In truth, she was young, and all teenagers were excited to be reckless no matter what regard they held themselves in; Kitty just couldn't admit this to herself.

"The Joker card, hmm?" she called from the doorway, half-scowling, half-smirking. "Think you're being funny with that, Deres?" Gracie Slant, Queen of Hearts: psssh. Kitty was the Queen of Hearts, she'd broken enough. Perhaps stamped on was the more appropriate term. Or maybe even dissected. Titles aside, she approached the table in a deliberate outfit that maximised on layers. Gloves, hat, sunglasses, stockings, accessories, jackets, blouses - it was all necessary. Kitty would rather die than sit in her birthday suit with this set of cretins (minus Strellie).

Taking a seat, Kitty nodded to those around the table, uttering their surnames politely as was commonplace for the pixie Korean. Giving Liviana a brief smile, Kitty was up for competition this evening - the pleasantries of the Aristocracy could be eliminated for tonight. Producing a bottle of champagne, Kitty plonked it on the table, popping the cork instantaneously. "Feel free to glug," she grumbled, taking a liberal swig before passing it around. There was no need to act a lady.

This was all-out war. "I dislike surprises so I may as well inform you all now; I will probably win." She smirked, her boastful jesting without her usual cattiness. She reasoned it was her acquaintances' presence, when in all actuality, Kitty was letting her hair down.

The invitation, because that clearly was what it was, puzzled Erin a bit at first. Who the hell, he wondered, could have gotten into the house and stuck a Jack of Spades with a permanent sticking charm on it (and some very cheeky comments) to his cat? He'd almost had to bring the damn thing with him before he remembered the existence of scissors. By the pricking of his thumbs (and a dozen angry catscratches), a Slytherin was behind the dirty deed.

He didn't even mind the scratches then, 'cause if was a Slytherin game of cards then his summer was finally about to get exciting. Except for the semi-frequent fights, the furious kicking about over a certain deserter ex-boyfriend, and the occasional trek around the Welsh countryside, it'd been right boring so far. Erin hadn't been dormmates with Deus and Huck and lot for nothing; he knew enough to put the card on a map and watch closely.

Easy. He watched, he went, he ambled inside with a jacket and a couple of rings tossed atop his normal wife-beater/jeans/trainers combo in case this was one of those games.

It looked like good company once he got there, too, so Erin could relax and even smile. He gave the girls a thoughtless, easy grin - his male housemates too, of course, but they weren't as pretty. Livi got an extra special elbow in the ribs, real light, 'cause Erin wasn't the type for kissing hello. Kitty got a wary berth. Erin wasn't sure she'd forgotten that time at the club.

Then Deus caught his attention, what with the need for a slab of cold meat and all. "Cor, mate," Erin said, tilting his head to the side, eyes intent and curious on Deus' bandages, bruises, and blackened fingers. He indicated his own collarbone in demonstration. "Nice war wounds."

There was nothing but mild admiration in his voice, maybe a little bit of awe at the sight of those fingers. What a fight that must have been, he was obviously thinking, and like a simple reckless teenage boy he envied a little those vivid bruises that spoke of a summer obviously more exciting than his own. He had a few but they were all faded, sickly yellow instead of purple, not very impressive at all.

There were plenty of bottles around, but Erin shrugged off his bag and added two more. He was staying with Darian for a week or so, and the older man was good for having stuff laying around. Darian'd caught him with it at the door, but let him go when Erin'd told him it was for strip poker and corrupting the innocent. Erin wasn't entirely certain about the former and the latter was definitely a lie, but his cousin was predictable when it came to excuses like that.

Man of many talents, aren't you Deus?

Deus winked but said nothing, letting his broad, cheshire grin speak for him instead, quietly impressed that the delicate blonde could handle the green liquid so easily.  But before he could comment, his Queen of Spades sauntered into the door.  He had offered, on multiple occasions, to show up at her door and scandalize her family with a brilliant ballad to Livi's eternal beauty and hexing ability, but for some reason, the plan had never come to fruition.

"Liiiivi," He crooned, swooping to peck her on the cheek after Gracie released her, before producing a small box of long, slim black cigarettes. The figures on the box danced and moved in the way of Wizarding pictures, but otherwise there was no label to identify the brand. "Lookit what Ah got. 'Course, there's a wee tax if ye want one." He tugged on his ear lightly and the box vanished, presumably until she paid a layer of clothing for it.  Girls and their jewelrying up. Pft.

Huck was right about the absinthe—there was a reason it had been banned, after all. That fairy dust wasn't just for show, and it didn't take much. But hey, where would the fun be without a little danger? He had some Logorrhea stashed somewhere, unlabeled, as most of the liquor he'd hauled out was. He figured someone would take a swig and pass it around eventually.

He winked at Gracie, and slipped his hands into his pockets as a silent sign that he'd keep them to himself the rest of the night. His hazel eyes glittered, mischief and mistrust, and he turned as a call from the doorway reached his ears.

Think you're being funny with that, Deres?

"O'course. It's a'cause ye always make me smile, Miss Kitty." Deus said with a flutter of curly lashes and a voice like velvet.  He had a perverse fondness for the dark-haired Queen of Mean. Couldn't help it. Her unshakeable orneriness struck a chord in his blackguard heart. And so, while she sat and polite uttered surnames, he thought it might be worth the scratch this particular Kitty could give him to give her the same kiss on the cheek (or lips, in Gracie's case) he'd given the others. But she seemed unaccountably agreeable today, and he decided it best not to risk putting her heckles up. So instead, he plopped into the seat to her right, picked the bottle of champagne and took an easy swallow.

He was putting the bottle back in its place when Erin entered, and waved easily from his seat. "Girl scouts. Pack of 'em. Beastly little creatures. Buy th'cookies, mate. Buy. The. Cookies."

He produced a deck of cards from..somewhere, and began shuffling them into a whisking blur. The sounds of grumbling could be heard from the deck, as Kings and Jacks on the wizarding deck clashed and argued with the other suits.

"Alright, boys n'gels. Ten layer limit. Eleven for the ladies," He said with a perfectly innocent smile. "Five card draw or th' American game?"

Liv was slightly relieved when Gracie sidled up and gave her a squeeze. It wasn't long after their whole non-blowup-but-certainly-pissed-off-about-Luc thing that the brunette had been whisked off to Italy by Dolly. There had been letters and the like, but she wasn't totally sure where the two of them stood on the grounds of forgiveness. Liv had lied to her, well not really - but for them it would count as lying. They told a lot of half truths to a lot of people but never to one another, not telling her about the stupid kiss that never should have happened right away had been a mistake... but all seemed to be forgiven at this point in time.

Taking the bottle she gave Slant a kiss back before taking a healthy swig - before almost choking. Kitty, damn it! Liv felt her brown eyes narrowing slightly, a flicker of a scowl on her lips for a fraction of a second. Liv knew better than to feel betrayed by anything Deus did, he was always out for number one - but she had hoped that he would not be so stupid as to invite a viper to their private party. She had no business there, the only person who even liked her (in all of Wizarding histoy) was Mimi. She was just awful, which was saying a lot considering the fact that Liv didn't bat an eyelash sitting down to dinner with a sprinkling of former Death Eaters.

Kitty Li was a beast of entirely different measure, and Liv thought about feigning a burst ovary to get the hell out of there. She couldn't though, leaving meant Kitty would win and the only thing Liviana hated more than Li was giving her the satisfaction of thinking she'd one upped anyone, "You know what they say Kitty, Darling, every court needs a Fool," her voice was smooth and light as her thick lashes fluttered - falsely playful and beguiling. Already the Absinthe was making her tongue loose, her veins warm. She'd have to slow down now - which was slightly disheartening.

She almost wished she'd visited Daz's storeroom before this little excursion, there were any number of potions and poisons that would incapacitate Kitty for the evening. Liv wasn't above it. She was considering what might be lining the inside of her bag when she felt the elbow to her side. Erin, well that was good luck wasn't it! She grinned at him, slipping an arm around his neck, a playful kiss finding it's way to his jaw, "Harper is it true, are you back on the market? Can I start telling my mother you're utterly mad for me again without fear of being murdered? She's driving me batty, and it's you or..." she waved her hand, tone playful, "one of those miscreants".

"Same to you, Deres, darling, same to you," Kitty laughed, purposefully putting on a tone of vulgar grandiose. Deus and Kitty shared a mutual respect, and she mirrored his fondness. Of course, he was rather crass and frightfully flirtatious, but he was one of the few boys that was neither terrified or intimidated by little Miss Li. If it was anybody else sending the Joker card, she'd have spat words more vicious than Avada Kedavra itself. Deus, however, got away with it. Giving him a nod, the bottle of champagne briskly (and thankfully) returned to her own hands. Producing a Marie-Antoinette glass, Kitty filled it to the brim before taking a sip. It was rare she could enjoy alcohol without the lingering eyes of professors or relatives. The Li family were strictly tee-total, so it wasn't worth sneaking alcohol into the family home. Kitty had thrown her cousin Tabitha to the dogs when it emerged she'd been drunk at various points throughout summer. It'd be familial suicide if Kitty's own debauchery came to light also. Letting out a small squeak of satisfaction as expensive and unappreciated liquid spread over her tongue, Kitty gave a grin to Deus, glad of the invite despite their company.

Speaking of which, the dregs of Slytherin really were scraped from the bottom of the social goblet, and unfortunately, were all in attendance. Despite bumping shoulders with Liviana on a regular basis, there was no shared appreciation. Gracie Slant was just as bad - with a name not too dissimilar to one of those vile country singers from Alabama or some other backwater town. Foul creature. Huxley was charming enough, but far too twee for his own good. Demitria's glowing face at the table however, was Kitty's saviour. She loved her best friend unconditionally, and it was a companion that Kitty chose regardless of background or benefit to herself. Giving Demitria a warm smile, Kitty raised her glass.

Unfortunately, such warm thoughts quickly dissolved when Wiedman piped up.

"Is that so?" she replied in reference to Liviana's lacklustre, thinly-veiled insult. Kitty had to stifle a yawn to the Wiedman robot in fear she'd keel over and short-circuit. "Then do not panic, I'll be sure to forward your name if we're looking for one, dear!" Raising her shoulders and scrunching her nose in an expression that was sickeningly sweet, Kitty shook her head, dismissive of any pathetic remark that came her way. This was a poker game - and she had every intention of embarrassing her adversaries in non-verbal ways this evening.

She chose to ignore Harper's entrance, and Liviana's rather tragic worship of the blonde beauty. Ever since his brutal rebuffal way back when, Kitty hadn't been so keen on her burgeoning Slytherin flame. She'd liked him - but it would never work! There wasn't enough time for schoolwork and social firing squad executions as it was, never mind the added toil of a boyfriend. Kitty would be polite, but wouldn't break her back in fawning and gaining his attentions.

"Five card draw," she immediately responded. "Let's leave American customs to Salem, shall we?"

Kitty was beyond excited to start.

Demitria watched the entry of the other Slytherins. Good, they had kept it within their secretive, not-so-law abiding circle. They all had out of house friends, but once in a while, it was far more precocious to not invite them. Especially when strip poker was involved. No one except her dorm mates and Huxley had ever seen her in less than full clothing, not even a swim suit. She had only begun showing her back last winter as well. Now, she was far more comfortable in her own skin, but not comfortable enough to lose to this particular group of hounds.
 
When Kitty walked in, the small Russian’s face lit up noticeably. It was made even more obvious by the fact that her face was the only one that registered anything that even resembled a positive emotion at the Bitch Queen’s entrance. She stood up from where she had taken a seat near Deus and Huxley and moved over to sit by Kitty. The two of them stuck together no matter what. They were two sides of the same coin and that made things more fun. After all, even complete opposites attract and Demitria was not a complete opposite. She just... preferred different methods. Even Kitty teased her that she was “the nice one.”

“Милая¹! It’s been far too long,” She smirked as she kissed the Korean’s cheeks. “I hope you haven’t been as bored this summer as I have.” Demitria said this with a wink to Huxley. They had only been back from their summer adventure for a few weeks. It had been a blast to get away from the general tension that permeated the Western Manor.
She knew that Kitty had never approved of the company she often kept, but both girls mutually agreed on many things. If Demitria didn’t comment on Kitty’s brutal tactics, Kitty wouldn’t berate her for being around low company. And weren’t they supposed to bond as a house? Strellie was sure that her professors would have choked on their dinner if they knew what “Slytherin bonding” entailed.

The tiny blonde pouted at Deus when he mentioned the 11 layer limit. “Not fair, Deus. I wouldn’t have raided my grandmother’s jewelry if I had known.” Her bell-like chuckle mirrored the tinkle of the snake bangles that slithered around her lower arm.

She was ready to start whenever the others were ready.


¹ Darling/Sweetheart