some nights

[Edward Mohr]

It was getting dark so early in the day now that by the time training had come to an end and the team had left the pitch, it may as well have been midnight and not just after six. Pitch black, completely. Along with a few others who had apparated back to Hogsmeade, the warm glow from the high street had called to him, and he had surrendered quite easily to the idea of stopping by the Three Broomsticks for just a pint or two before heading home to Threnody and the children.

The Arrows' training regime had always been rigorous - and despite being strong contenders in the league rankings (as usual) they had lost their November match, and so there was no chance of Edward letting up on his team - but even he was relieved as soon as they had entered the warmth and sank onto chairs. With a pint now warming his insides, some energy had returned to him, and as he broke off from conversation with a teammate, grinning, he caught sight of a familiar face amidst the clustered room. Only Art Pettigrew, a friend-slash-rival-captain (and someone Adasia had been oddly vehement about trying to get out of prison.) Of course, Art had been released eventually - quite a while ago too, now, though Edward hadn't yet had much of a chance to hear anything about it from Art himself - but he was also glad it obviously hadn't had to be his money doing it. Still, it was nice that he wasn't rotting in jail.

"Pettigrew!" Edward called out good-humouredly, offering him a brief wave-turned-gesture to come join them.

@Cassius Lestrange
@Art Pettigrew

  

[Arthur Pettigrew]

Arthur had expected the dull chilling misery to fade after a few weeks out of prison; but it had been almost a month, and he was now neither unhappy nor happy, a terrible neutrality that really did not suit him. The only real good news was that he was still managing to refrain from gambling, even if every few days he almost managed to have himself convinced that that would fix everything.

He had drifted into the Three Broomsticks that evening because it was much less dangerous than drifting into the casino and because he had absolutely no desire to head home. He ordered a glass of firewhiskey - not the best drink in the world but not the worst, either - and settled into the mindset that he would be here until something interesting happened (he was half-hoping for a barfight.) Art decided that he might as well stay at the bar.

The sound of his own name startled him. He whirled around with a preemptive grin on his face that became a bit more genuine when he saw Edward Mohr.

"Mohr!" Art called, hopping off of his perch and making his way across the room to his sort-of-friend, "Long time no see!"

  

[Edward Mohr]

Edward straightened up to greet Pettigrew as he approached, bursting into a little bit of a laugh at the accompanying comment from Art.

"Well, no blaming me for that, is there?" He returned, with a joking smirk. No, the answer was obvious there. Art had been a little too far removed for a while to see much of anyone; Edward didn't even know what Azkaban's policy on visitors was (and that was quite far down the list of curiosities). He supposed he should have muffled his snort a little, sidestep that topic with some delicacy and tact, but - who was he kidding? It was all anyone had talking about, particularly on the quidditch scene, and Edward surely wouldn't be the first to inquire about that.

"How have you been then?" He prompted, his tone laidback but his eyebrows raised in interest. He did genuinely care a little that Pettigrew was well, though given his apparent innocence, coping with life after prison oughtn't be too bad? And it wasn't as though he'd had any strong opinions on that creaothceann debacle, beyond being relieved he had been clever and responsible fortunate enough not to have gotten caught up in it.

  

[Arthur Pettigrew]

ooc: ahhh! i'm so sorry for the wait on this >.<

Arthur laughed. "Well, you know, not in prison, so that's alright," he said, grinning. "Haven't been up to much since, really - I've been actually staying out of the papers, I suppose." Also he had been sort of - listless, but he supposed that that was an after-effect of the dementors, or maybe just of his lack of gambling.

He hadn't been to the casino in ages, not even when he felt that slight itch to go, and nothing had escalated since. That was as unnerving as it was good for his miserable finances, which had been in worse shape than they'd been in for years when he was let out - completely broke was a state of being that wasn't especially well-suited to gambling, really.

"How've you been? And the family?" Arthur said in the same cheerful tone. Hopefully he could make it through this without revealing that he'd tupped Mohr's wife; that would probably be an awkward conversation.

  

[Edward Mohr]

"Accomplishment indeed," Edward intoned, with a snort. Though Pettigrew must be truly relieved to be far from Azkaban, Edward supposed, a little more seriously; even hindsight probably couldn't turn the stint in prison to merely a laugh. "That is alright," he echoed, a touch more genuinely.

He wanted to hear more, of course, and the curiosity was not hidden on his face. Equally, though, he had never exactly been one to turn down talk of himself - at least when life was good - so he prompted nothing further for the moment. "Oh, very well, really; all the family too." Edward wasn't entirely sure how closely Art had ever been introduced to them: he'd met Threnody, to be sure. And Adasia had become quite impassioned on the subject of Pettigrew's imprisonment; Edward hadn't a clue how that had come about. "Had a new addition to it, in fact." Art probably hadn't heard, but it wasn't as though Edward tired of dropping that news, either.

  

[Arthur Pettigrew]

Another Mohr! That brought them up to - some number that Art couldn't remember. Three, maybe? Certainly no more than four, especially not when he already had Adasia and that-other-one living in the house.

He grinned at Edward. "When? Boy or girl?" Arthur asked. It occurred to him rather belatedly that, depending on when it had happened, the child could be his.

Merlin. Because that was what he needed. Arthur coughed and took a sip of his drink. He shouldn't even think about things like that - especially when he didn't even know when the child had been born!

  

[Edward Mohr]

Hearing the slight cough, he paused before answering to offer Art a brief look to be sure he wasn't a) choking or b) attempting to say something else, but it had been followed by another sip of drink, so all seemed fine. Pettigrew had probably picked a cold or something up in Azkaban. Edward didn't know that one came into much contact with other people there, but he also couldn't imagine that Dementors stipulated particularly high standards of hygiene.

"Oh, September," he said brightly, back on the topic of his youngest. "A second boy. Percy. Well, Perseus." Edward had a difficult time containing his pride in the best of situations, and this was certainly no exception. He did not expect Art to be overly interested - as far as he knew, he was still unattached, let alone a father himself - but it had been good of him to ask.

  

[Arthur Pettigrew]

September was - okay, so Art didn't know how long pregnancies were exactly. But it sounded right. Still, did it even matter? He was never going to confront Threnody about it, and clearly Edward thought that the boy was his - and Edward was presumably having more sex with his wife than Art had.

(Art was only momentarily jealous of that.)

He flashed a bright smile at Edward. "Congratulations," he said, genuinely.

  

[Edward Mohr]

"Thank you," Edward said, pleased (and obviously - fortunately - quite unaware of any calculations or contemplation on Art's part). He could happily brag all night, but he could not imagine Pettigrew would care much about how the babe was getting on.

He, on the other hand, would be quite interested in anything the other captain said on the matter of quidditch. "And how are the Howlers?" He asked; after all, lacking their captain for some time may have shaken things up a little for them. Naturally, Edward hoped 'not too well', if only to benefit his own team, but he would never expect Pettigrew to say any such thing. He must be pleased to be back, at any rate.

  

[Arthur Pettigrew]

"They held up well when I was gone," Arthur said cheerfully, as if he would ever say anything else. The Howlers were a good team independent of him, but they'd gotten very lucky with the game they'd won when he was gone. Barring other disaster, though, he thought that they were bound to have a good season. "We'll see how things turn out - I think we have a good shot at ranking high this year. How's Appleby?"

  

[Edward Mohr]

"My step-daughter will be pleased to hear it," Edward said with dry cheerfulness, avoiding having to pretend too much goodwill towards the rival team but still trying to say something nice-ish. (He was not aware of quite how much of an embarrassment Adasia may have made of herself in regards to Mr. Pettigrew; Edward just presumed - or personally pretended - that she was a weirdly vocal fan of the Howlers.)

"Only time will tell," He added, grinning. "Oh, on form and expecting another strong season," he rattled off assuredly, the sort of line one offered the press on a regular basis, but perhaps the truth. Edward had no intention of seeing the Arrows miss their mark this year.

  

[Arthur Pettigrew]

"That's good," Art said, grinning back at Edward, "Do you think that Wigtown and Ballycastle are ever going to get their shit together?" At least they would assuredly be at the bottom of the league rankings - Art wanted the Howlers to rank highly this season, but would also, if pressed, settle for not-worst.

  

[Edward Mohr]

"Doubtful," Edward returned, feeling perfectly justified in being disdainful - and smirking a little, too. "I honestly couldn't tell you what's gotten into them. Went to watch a bit, myself. It's like they've all damn well forgotten how to play." He wouldn't have called either of the teams strong competition on a good day, certainly not for Appleby, but they'd signed their own death warrants, now. Either Wigtown or Ballycastle ought to have counted their losses and forfeited, and put the rest of the world out of their (if not misery) exasperation. "The Snitch'll probably show up in South America one day."

  

[Arthur Pettigrew]

"I certainly wouldn't be surprised at this point," Arthur said with a snort. "I ought to be off -" he'd floated in here for the sake of floating in here; there was surely more business to be had elsewhere, and he didn't want to take up too much of his friend's time or reveal the wife-boning thing "- but it was nice catching up with you!"

  

[Edward Mohr]

"And you," Edward said easily. Nice to see that Pettigrew had survived his stint in prison, in any case. "See you on the pitch sometime," - likely soon enough - he called on after him as Art got up, and Edward turned back to the teammates he'd come with.