Dandelions

COMMUNICATION? NEVER HEARD OF HIM

While the Gryffindor common room was typically a hearth of activity and warmth, with students coming and going alongside the classic paintings of esteemed past students and eccentric patterned wallpaper--on the abnormally warm night after the quidditch match, it was abuzz with jubilant celebration. Bottles dotted tables and lookouts covered each entrance while McGonagall was away on her nightly patrol of the castle. The amount of people contained within the circular tower rivaled that of the Hallows Eve party Rory remembered attending last year.

He watched from his designated sipping spot by one of the bay windows that overlooked the Black Lake, eyes following George and Fred as they tried to convince a first or second year (Rory really couldn't tell the difference much anymore) to chug an entire bottle of butterbeer in one go.

"Scale of one to ten, how drunk d'you think they are?" Lee asked, sidling up and leaning against the windowsill right alongside Rory.

"Solid seven," he replied, watching Fred step backwards and trip over his own foot, "Point five."

Lee let out a snort, taking a sip from his own mug of whatever it was. Rory brought his own cup to his lips, eyes darting over to the corner that housed the quidditch keeper himself, Oliver Wood. The man was beyond wasted, tears leaking from his eyes randomly as he passionately talked about how hard the team had worked--how they had earned this. Girls giggled and ran their fingers through his hair, nodding and listening along as they inched closer to him.

It made Rory feel a little gross, if he was being honest, and he looked away quickly. He couldn't decide which made him feel worse, the fact that the girls were touching Oliver at all, or the fact that it wasn't him.

"What's got you all sour?" Rory looked over at him as Lee asked his question, pulling his cup back down as he finished drinking.

"Nothing," he crushed the cup in his hand before leaving it on the windowsill, feeling his jaw tick. "Just kind of tired from the game, you know? I didn't expect it to be so...crazy."

"Crazy enough to miss your one goal, eh?" He nudged Rory a bit roughly, letting out a loud laugh. "I have to say, I really had to hold myself back on that one. You're lucky we're friends, or you would've gotten absolutely reamed."

"Gee, thanks," Rory sourly replied, "I'm sure that would've made it so much better."

"It's a good thing you covered it up by saving Potter, had your hero moment and everything."

"Mhm."

It was only then that Rory took one last scan of the room, noticing a severe lack of a little trio that had become exceedingly prevalent ever since they'd arrived at Hogwarts. Well, Harry is a minor, not of drinking age, but that had never stopped Rory or any of his friends. Perhaps Harry was just a little too good to hang around with them, even after a hard earned win. Even after some half-blood had tried to save him, to make sure he was okay. Rory felt his lip curl as his hand itched to hold another cup.

He didn't realize he was staring at Oliver again until he felt the boy's gaze on him. Two lazy, dilated brown eyes stared back at him, a thoroughly confused face meeting Rory's. A shot of panic pierced his lungs before he nodded at Oliver, playing it off like he'd only been looking for a few seconds.

Surely that meant it was time to retire, for Rory to scurry away into his hiding hole in order to avoid Oliver and the humiliation he'd just wrought.

"So why did you go after Potter?" Lee suddenly asked, staring straight ahead at something within the depths of the crowd of people. "It could've cost you a goal or two."

"Mmf," he shrugged, "I didn't think about it like that. I was just worried he'd get hurt. Plus, I doubt Angelina or Katie would've let too much through, they're good players."