Marauders - Always - Part One

CLXVI: The Scoop

He stared at it for several moments.

Suddenly there was a thrumming noise on the desk and he looked up to see his business card was glowing - he was being summoned. He sighed and closed the notepad, slid it back in the drawer, and carefully re-covered it with odds and ends to bury it inconspicuously at the bottom of a load of office supplies. Then he sighed, plucked the card up from the table and hurried to the exit of the Daily Prophet, where he turned on the spot and disapparated away.

When he'd left, a tiny beetle crawled out of the WHAM! mug that sat on his desk, stretching it's wings as it sat on the eraser tip of a pencil before fluttering down to walk across the desktop and slip through the crack in the drawer.

Declan was in Hogsmeade when he reappeared. 

He walked briskly through the little village, passing the fountain and turning into the Three Broomsticks. 

Oliver Kent was easy to find. He was slouched in one of the booths that lined the wall, a collection of empty pint glasses on the table in front of him, slouching against the bench. Declan shook his head and sidled up. "Well don't you look like a fresh pile of hippogriff dung," he murmured, looking Oliver over.  "Why did you leave the inn? I had you all settled."

"Settled," Oliver laughed. "Nothing's settled. He's playing me hot and cold, Declan."

"Who is?"

"Wally Grant. Hot and cold, hot and cold..."

"What do you mean?"

"He's gone home to his wife," Oliver murmured. "To his new life. Can't blame him; I'd leave me too. I pushed him, didn't I? Push, push, push, and I'm never happy 'til it's broken with everyone, am I?"

"Ah, so it's time to call in Deccy now then?" Declan asked, voice laced with sarcasm.

Oliver looked up at Declan with pathetic eyes. "P'haps it's me what's broken?"

Declan sighed.  Oliver was far too  drunk to endure a lecture now, so Declan decided to let go of the frustration he was feeling. He held out a hand, pulling Oliver to his feet. "Did you pay your tab?"

"Yeah a fair share and a bit more," Oliver slurred.

Declan nodded and tugged Oliver's arm 'round his shoulders, helping him along as he walked him out of the pub and into the street.

"You hear about Harry Potter being put in the Tourney?" Oliver asked, voice smushed together. Luckily, Declan had plenty of practice deciphering what Oliver Kent was saying when he was messed up.

"I did," Declan nodded. "I was there."

"Ah," Oliver said. He shook his head, "Poor kid didn't need that rubbish... Didn't need that rubbish at all... has 'nuff rubbish... so much like his Dad... You ever meet James Potter, Deccy?"

"A time or two," Declan answered vaguely. They were stumping along past the fountain towards the Inn where Oliver was staying.

"Great man," Oliver said.

"Mhm," Declan agreed.

"I should've offered to train Harry instead of Cedric," murmured Oliver, "...needs it more'n DIggory... just a kid..."

Declan said, "Technically you can't train any of the Champions. You're quidditch training Cedric, remember? Different than triwizard training. They can't ask for help with the tournament, remember?"

Oliver sighed heavily.

"Harry will be alright," Declan murmured. He glanced at Oliver.

He wished he could warn him.

Wished he could say what he was thinking.

But he couldn't.

So he just walked with Oliver to the inn, got him back up to the room, and unceremoniously dumped him on the bed. 

"Stay with me?" Oliver asked.

Declan shook his head, "I can't, Oll. Wally Grant might be gone for now but he'll be back."

"Stay as a friend?"

Declan sighed and shook his head again. "Sorry, Oliver, darling, but I simply must decline."

Oliver frowned, but he accepted the answer and didn't argue further.

Declan brushed hair off Oliver's forehead and stared into his face for several long moments as Oliver settled down and slowly drifted away into sleep.

Declan sighed and stood up. He waved his wand, a glass beside the bed filled with water and he reached into his pockets and produced a small bag and left behind a couple low-dose ibprofin on the night stand, then he slipped back out the door of the Inn and onto the street and disapparated away.