Wednesday's child is full of woe

Wednesdays had a habit of dragging.  At the beginning of the week, you were too busy to notice much, later on and the days blurred into one-another in anticipation of the weekend.  But Wednesdays were cursed.  If you were going to have a bad day, one of those days where everything seemed to go wrong, it would be a Wednesday.  Count on it.

In acknowledgement of this universal rule, Wednesday was the day Michael and Terry both deserted their workplaces for lunch at the Leaky Cauldron.  It might not be the fanciest place in Diagon Alley but the food was good and they could bemoan the horror that was Wednesday in their respective workplaces in peace.

Michael was just ordering a beer from the bar as he waited for Terry to turn up.

[ooc: I'm sort of picturing this happening after the stuff at the Inn. If that's not okay, I can edit ]

Oliver had heard - from multiple sources - that the friend of his that owned and cooked for The Leaky was having a particularly rough go of it. Of course, Oliver had his own share of disappointments and drama and worry lately, but he did feel obligated to stop in and check on Declan after what the older man had done for him the previous year. Merlin, did Oliver have some news for him! When he arrived, however, the Scot was nowhere to be found. So Oliver just shrugged it off mentally, and decided to stick around to talk to one of the waitstaff and see who else might show up that day. With Alice at work and no new idea knocking at his door, he didn't have a whole lot to get up to, otherwise.

It was just as Oliver reached the bar that he noticed someone next to him walk over and order a beer. As tempted as he was to make some sort of joke about drinking in the morning, Oliver didn't really think that would go over with someone he didn't know. Instead, they had to wait while the bartender made filled the glasses of someone else down the bar before returning to pour up Oliver's and this other man's.

It couldn't hurt to be friendly, right? He had come from Hufflepuff, after all, and it was sort of the staple of their house in some ways. So Oliver leaned on the bar and glanced the older man's way. "I'm really glad this place wasn't used for housing the Muggles the Ministry is trying to train. You heard what happened to the Inn the other night?"

In truth, he was probably getting himself into some trouble if this man didn't want to talk about it. Of course, it was entirely possible that he knew one of the people who had been hurt in the battle. But Oliver was doing his best to subtly gather information in ways he had not before. The Order needed help, and Oliver understood that, now, more than ever before. But they didn't need people who were going to fight and pull and make things harder. They needed people with ideas and determination and a willingness to do something about their problems instead of sitting around and complaining about how hard it might be for them.

Was this guy someone who could help them? It didn't hurt to find out.

Michael leaned an elbow on the bar and turned his attention to his new companion. He was clearly fishing for information, but why?

"The damage is difficult to miss," he replied.

"Michael Corner," he extended a hand in greeting, hoping his name still held enough repute to give this guy a clue.

Terry had entered the Cauldron by now, sliding up beside Michael to rest a hand on his hip.

"Who's this?" he asked.

Michael smiled and looked down at the blond. They slipped back into roles so naturally. Terry's tone was laced with naive curiosity, his irritation undetectable to anyone who hadn't grown up with him.

"You know, I was just about to ask that myself," Michael turned his gaze back to the stranger.