Debauchery & The Duck

He was going to fail his NEWTs. That was becoming exceedingly clear.

Finn had been trying, but he could see that even her placid, peace-keeping nature was being tested by the obstinacy of his uncooperative brain.  He could see her mouth open to correct him quickly, then she would swallow it down, nod, and try to find some nugget of positivity. He didn’t know why he had such a hard time, and he didn’t know how to communicate to Finn in a way she could help. It hurt him to see the determination in her face.

She was wasting her time.

He kept the hopeful smile until he turned away, and then he slipped down to the kitchens, pushing past the house elves and grabbing some cooking sherry from the shelves. He slipped it into his jacket and slipped upstairs, waiting to uncork it until he was climbing up the staircase to his dormitory. He took a swig as he entered the dormitory, a sight his dormmates were very used to seeing.

Toby was already in. Good ol’ Toby.

“Wanna get drunk with me tonight?” Ducky asked.

Toby looked up as Ducky entered the dorm. The other student had a bottle of sherry clutched in one hand, a not unusual sight, and took a swig from it as he strode through the entryway. Toby was the only other person in the dorm, the others being Merlin knows where. The teenager was laying flat on his back on the floor by the foot of his bed.

"F*ck yes," Toby replied, a little too quickly. The werewolf didn't drink or party nearly as much as Ducky did, but it wasn't like he never did. Toby could usually be counted to tag along to things every once in a while, or drink with his dorm-mates if they all were and he happened to be there. He wasn't the type to seek out that type of environment, however. Usually.

Today though, today was different. Toby had been ready to get plastered since walking out of Defense this morning. Considering it was a weekday, however, the Gryffindor had kinda given it up as a bit of a lost cause. He'd gone running as soon as classes were over for the day, disappearing into the forest and not reappearing until well after dinner was over. It had helped, a good run always did, but it hadn't quite helped enough for Toby to feel properly comfortable in his own skin. And so, the male had been reduced to lying on the floor, staring up at the ceiling, and wondering what the hell he was doing.

Until Ducky walked in. With alcohol. Gotta love that Ducky.

"Gimme," Toby said, sticking his hand out in Ducky's direction, awaiting the bottle.

Ducky didn't know what to expect from the question, honestly. He had hoped for a partner in drunkenness, of course, but Toby was much more responsible than most of his dormmates, so he could not always rely on the boy to be game. Or even be around. Some weekends, no one could find neither hide nor hair of him. Ducky suspected Toby was off, letting loose. If Ducky ventured a guess, he would lay money that, once a month... Toby went off to a gay pub.

One of these days he would follow and find out.

He grinned and walked over, holding out the bottle. "What're you doing on the floor, weirdo?"

The sudden urge for a cigarette jolted through his body so he walked over to his trunk bed and pulled a pack out from his dresser. He took out a cigarette, lit it, and then tossed the pack onto Toby in case he wanted one. He took a long drag, focusing on the nicotine and not his looming failures.

He meandered back over to Toby and plopped down next to him, reaching his hand out for the bottle.

"Having an existential crisis," Toby replied jokingly. Or at least, his tone of voice was joking. He was... only partially joking. Propping himself up on one elbow, Toby snagged the bottle from Ducky's hand and took a long pull.

"I lost track of time running," the teenager admitted, "got back, took a shower, and barely managed to make it in here without my legs giving out. All this NEWT sh*te has me out of shape."

Handing the bottle back to Ducky when the wizard reached out for it, Toby picked up the pack of cigarettes that had landed upon his stomach. Normally Toby wouldn't smoke, although he had no problem with Ducky doing so. It was a thing he'd done with the other teens in his Pack, back when he'd had one. In recent years smoking has lot its appeal, a little. A little, but not completely. Plucking a cigarette from the pack, Toby lit it, brought it to his lips, and inhaled deeply.

"Thanks," he murmured, tossing the cigarettes so that they landed upon Ducky's left thigh.

Ducky chuckled, quietly marvelling at the difference between himself and the Cooper boy. He supposed his own worries were an existential crisis of its own, though he would have never phrased it that way. He surely would have answered the same question with I'm just a piece of shit.

Interesting.

"Running," he repeated. "Do you ever play Quidditch? Sometimes, when I want to blow off steam, I wanna go around and throw a Quaffle around. I can never find someone who wants to though. You should join me sometime."

He sighed, taking several large gulps, proving his expertise at drinking, when the subject of NEWTs came up. "Let's... not talk about NEWTs. Seriously. I'm dead, man. Dead."

He hadn't really thought much of throwing the cigarettes to Toby. He hadn't expected Toby to drink - certainly hadn't expected him to smoke. He grinned a bit, and then took another long inhale on the stick.

"This is shit, man," he said. "If I could do this all day-" he lifted the bottle and the cigarette "-I would.

"Quidditch? Sometimes. I usually go for a run 'cause you can just kinda zone, you know? But flying's alright, just lemme know whenever you feel like a game," Toby said, pulling his arm out from underneath him and collapsing back onto the ground. Wincing slightly when his head hit the floor with an audible thud, the werewolf let out a soft grunt of irritation.

Nodding solemnly, Toby took another drag of his cigarette. "Yeah, sure man, I feel that. Such a bloody shitshow." Grabbing the bottle from Ducky's hand, Toby lifted his head just enough to take a swig, before placing the bottle right back into his housemate's hand. Letting his head drop heavily back onto the floor, this time on purpose, Toby sighed.

"This," he said, gesturing with the cigarette in hand, "is millions times better than classes."

Once upon a time Hogwarts had seemed like an amazing place to learn and reunite with his family and actually be a normal teenager. The castle had been that, for a while. Or at the very least, close enough. Now, though? Learning sucked, his family was gone, and who had Toby even been trying to fool because he wasn't ever gonna be anywhere near normal. What would he even do with NEWTs anyway? The whole thing was pointless.