raise your glass
The brunette collapses in giggles and begins singing a Muggle song about losing stars or counting sleep or something like that but who really knows because it’s half past two in the morning and they’re both drunk and in the middle of the street with an angry bald man glowering down at them.
“I thought you said we were going out for a drink,” Tatiana shouts over the loud music of the club, straining to hear even her own screams over the thumping of the bass.
“Multiple drinks, Tatiana dearest. Where’s the fun in stopping at one?” Seren giggles and downs another shot, much to her friend’s surprise, who’d given up counting after the first three. By now, the blonde is teetering on her heels, grabbing hold of the bar for support and trying her best not to stumble and end up on the ground like she did ten minutes ago.
Tatiana is only tipsy at this point, but both her inhibitions and her good judgment are vanishing at an alarming rate (because if Seren says this is a good idea, then it has to be, right?), and she grabs another shot glass filled with amber liquid and forces it down her throat in one quick motion. She sputters suddenly, wiping at her mouth with the back of her hand, and then grins at the blonde. “This stuff is terrible,” she shouts.
“I know!” Seren shouts back, already grabbing another and swinging her hips to the music, not even noticing that half of her drink has managed to slosh out of her cup and all over the bartender’s hand. He gives her a dirty look and then proceeds to try and mop up the spilled liquor.
Tatiana grabs another drink, clinks it against her friend’s glass, and then downs it as well, slowly losing herself to that strange bubbly feeling that begins to rise in her stomach.
The next few hours pass in a blur. One minute, the two girls are drinking, the next, one of them is on the table dancing while the other throws money, and the next, someone is in the bathroom throwing up and the other has to hold back their hair.
Vaguely, Tatiana remembers a suggestion by the bouncer that they return home and freshen up (apparently, the words she actually hears are “Go home, ladies. You are wasted,” but she doesn’t realize that until later). Somewhere in the streets she tumbles into a pole and Seren tries to kiss a brick and they both end up lying in the middle of the street.
“I never noticed that the stars looked a bit like freckles,” Seren muses out loud, raising her arms and gesturing wildly and disjointedly at the heavens above them.
Dark brown locks billow out in the pavement as Tatiana follows the other’s gaze and frowns. “I know what that one’s called,” she slurs, pointing to a constellation that she thinks is straight above her (although her arm is actually nearly eight inches to the right).
“Orion?” Seren suggests and then dissolves into giggles. “Like your Dad?”
“Don’t talk about my Dad like that,” Tatiana mutters, barely listening to the blonde as she gestures. “I think it’s called… I dunno, something like Spots.”
There’s a pause. “That’s a lovely name for a constellation,” Seren sighs.
The traffic light above them changes from red to green, but the street has been quiet for the past several minutes so the two eighteen year olds barely even notice. A car begins to drive down their street, but when it comes within six feet of Seren’s left side it stops abruptly, honking.
Tatty winces as the piercing yellow headlights force their way into her vision, imprinting themselves on the back of her eyelids. “Turn off the bloody lights, Seren,” she growls.
Seren makes a vague motion with her hand. “I don’t have my wand,” she realizes and then pouts, lying back down.
The man driving the car gets out and glares at the two. “What are you doing in the middle of the street?”
“What does it bloody look like we’re doing?” Seren mutters back.
“Stopping traffic?” The man suggests.
“Don’t be ridiculous. We’re counting stars,” the blonde says. Beside her, the brunette collapses in giggles and begins singing a Muggle song about losing stars or counting sleep or something like that but who really knows because it’s half past two in the morning and they’re both drunk and in the middle of the street with an angry bald man glowering down at them.
And somehow, they end up in the nearest police station and end up fighting over the cot in their cell. (“Damn you, Seren, I was a prefect, I deserve to be treated with respect, thanks very much.” “Shut the fuck up, Tatty, you threw up in the men’s toilet today and the guy on it hadn’t even left so I think I get this.”)
And then they both end up on the floor and wake up with splitting headaches, cursing each other for the idea of going out in the first place while the cops laugh and take down their names for ‘obstructing traffic’.
And that is the story of how Seren Jones and Tatiana Penvrane are now banned from drinking at most of the major bars in London.