the love cats. [tag; leonie]

Oh he was so drunk.

London was fascinating. Really. Really special, really diverse, really brilliant. This wasn't what he was used to. It was large and sprawling, brightly lit and metropolitan. And full of clubs. And scantily clad ladies who clearly hadn't taken the weather into consideration before dressing. It was cold and damp outside, the cobbled streets reflecting the street lamps in their little puddles. Winter seemed to have arrived in the English capital early this year.

Sam had lost count of how many or what he'd actually been drinking. He'd started out with beer but soon noticed that various spirits were on offer. So naturally, he moved on to vodka and akvavit. Akvavit! Of all things! The Swedish liquor made him feel right at home and besides, the proper way to drink it was to follow beer so really, he was just being a traditionalist. So there.

Then he'd moved onto cocktails. The fruity little glasses weren't usually his style but his companion for the evening was drinking then and he'd gotten quite jealous. Sam stood against the bar, absently chewing on a chunk of pineapple that had been floating in his bright yellow Caribbean-flavoured drink, his bright Nordic eyes scanning the crowd but not really seeing much he was interested in. He'd come in with his glasses but through the course of the evening, they'd vanished.

Never in his wildest dreams did he ever think he'd be out drinking with none other than Leonie Kirschbaum. Although, Sam knew he'd wear her down eventually. Deep down, he knew she adored him and it was only a matter of time before she realised it.

It was her own fault, though. If Leonie had been nice and kind to him in school, he doubted he would have become quite so obsessed with her. He felt a new sort of freedom since graduating. He didn't have to be well mannered and now he was living away from home, he could bring girls back to his apartment and everything! The wish was further from the thought, however. He was expecting to be drowning in girls but lo and behold, he was still single. And he had no idea why. He was smart, he was handsome, he was foreign, he was funny, he was clever, he was dressed nicely. Pfft, Londoners.

The bar was playing an unfamiliar song with the bass reverberating deep in his chest and causing him to nod along without much thought. The place was nice but he was a bit bored. Leonie was getting all the attention and he could see why; she was beautiful. It was all that blonde hair and those big eyes and her cool demeanour that had all the boys flocking. And he didn't like it. The Swede pouted and stared resolutely at the wall like a petulant child. He wanted to leave but he knew better than to leave a vulnerable girl in the middle of a  bar.

"C'mon," Sam said gruffly, clumsily reaching for her hand and pulling her without asking her first towards the door. Once outside and the cool damp air hit him, he reeled. The tall young man stumbled backwards, his head swimming as she squinted at the unfamiliar street, the few club goers ignoring him as they made their way back inside.

"Leonie," he began. "I think I'm drunk," he began, shaking his head and instantly regretting the action as soon as it was completed. "What was in those little cocktail thingies?" He asked her as he straightened up, his eyes glassy as a stupid grin spread across his face. He shrugged nonchalantly.

Stepping over to her, he extended his arm and draped it around her neck and pulled her in for a cuddle. She was nice and soft and warm. He absently wondered if she was a good cuddler or if she stole the duvet in bed. His mind  tended to wander. "Did I mention that you look positively ravishing tonight?" Sam added as he took the time to give her a brief but deliberate once-over from head to toe. It wasn't fair. She was the human equivalent of catnip. She was also so tantalisingly out of his reach and it was driving him absolutely up the wall. Girls were evil.

Merlin, this was the perfect night out.

Leonie Kirschbaum couldn't remember the last time she'd had so much fun. Seriously. Everything about tonight was wonderful. The new club was brilliant, the guys were hot and she didn't even have to pay for her drinks. Moving to London had been the best idea ever and she was still absolutely satisfied that she had won the fight against her brother. He'd hate it to see her like this; short dress, dark pink lip stick, surrounded by guys and a tiny bit drunk. Okay, that was a lie. The former Klyk Vampira had passed the stage of being tipsy a while ago but she still felt good. More than good. Brilliant.

Her body was pressed against a dark-haired wizard, her arms around his neck. He was handsome, that was for sure, but that didn't meant she wanted more from him than this little dance. Apparently he'd misunderstood her. Shortly before the dance ended, he tried to kiss her, his hands trying to press her even closer to him. "No way," she whispered and twisted out of his grip. As drunk as he was, he just stared at her completely dumbfounded. Without giving him another look, Leonie disappeared in the crowd, looking for her friend.

Samuel Andersson. Half cutie, half pain in the ass.

Well, that wasn't completely correct. They were friends and she liked him a lot but sometimes he just had the ability to drive her up the walls with his cocky demeanour. But then again… It was also one of the things she liked most about him. Confusing, really.

Ah, there he was. He was leaning against the bar and he… didn't look overly happy. Leonie made his way through the crowd and stopped right in from of him, her lips only inches away from his ear. "Your glasses are missing," she said, chuckling softly. The blonde wondered if one of the girls here had rejected him but she knew better than to ask. Before she could say or do anything else, Sam took her hand in his and pulled her towards the door. He wanted to leave? Leo wanted to protest but then she just sighed and followed him. He was her guest, if he wanted to go, then she couldn't do anything about it. Especially not since he surely wouldn't find his way back to her apartment where the sofa was waiting for him.

Once they were outside, he stumbled a little, bumping slightly against her. He hadn't even noticed, had he? The German giggled at his words, failing to uphold her usually rather cool demeanour. "You know what? I don't feel much better but…" She nudged him slightly and offered him a wide smile. "…it was fun, wasn't it?" He mentioned the cocktails and she shrugged. They'd been tasty, wasn't that all he needed to know? "No idea. Alcohol, juice… Maybe a potion? Seriously, I have no clue."

Sam put his arm around her neck and Leonie had to admit that she didn't mind. She leaned against him, enjoying the proximity. "Now you did. Thank you. You don't look bad yourself. I'm surprised you're leaving the club with me instead of some other girl." The blonde looked up at him, an amused smile on her face.

"Anyway, let's do something. Something to make this evening memorable." At that she grinned at him, freeing herself from his embrace. Without telling him what she had in mind, Leonie took his hand and walked a while until they reached a dark alley. Giving him another cat-like smile, the Durmstrang graduate got her wand out and muttered a spell. Her initials as well as Sam's appeared on the wall in front of them, glowing in a light blue colour. "What do you think?" They were close again and once more she didn't mind. At all.

This was silly. Why wasn't he drowning in girls? Clearly, he'd lost his mojo or something but it was ridiculous. He was tall, he had money, he was charming. But what we he doing? Bending over backwards to make sure his little blonde friend wasn't coming to any harm and what was his reward? The friend zone. With a decidedly sour expression darkening his handsome face, he looked down at his watch and sighed. He didn't really want to spend his night in London by himself in a sticky, dirty bar.

"Oh really?" Sam replied with a slim eyebrow raised and his lips pursed. "I'm surprised you noticed. You were so preoccupied with that philistine over there," he concluded darkly, referring to the man Leonie was previously dancing with. Deep down, Sam was a petulant child. He craved attention and he became childish and irritable when he was being ignored.

It was daft and he knew it. If Leonie wanted to sleep with a stranger then fine. Fine. If she wanted to wear that dress, have her long blonde hair fall around her beautiful face in a way that made him sort of want to die, then fine. As annoyed as he was, he was acutely aware of how close she was and where exactly her hands were. If only they'd slip a little further down, he'd be a very happy man. And he was trying hard not to look where her mouth was. Gah.

Tilting his head back, he drained the last of his brightly coloured drink and slammed it back down on the bar with more force than was really necessary. The Swede wasn't really sure if it was the drink or the fact he wasn't wearing glasses that made everything seem a little bit fuzzy and unfocused.

Once outside, the cold London air seemed to jolt him a little. With all of the alcohol coursing through his veins, he didn't feel that cold, even though he was sure the temperature was considerably lower this time of year. Had be been more of a gentleman, he may have offered Leonie his jacket. Unfortunately for her, he was decidedly a blackguard.

He snorted, his previous anger at being passed over almost instantly dissipating. Fun? She thought it was fun. Sam offered a non committal shrug of his left shoulder. "It wasn't too bad," he offered, sounding a little bit strained. Yeah he was sure she was having a ball but it was too loud, too packed, too…gropey in there. Outside was always better. What time was it anyway? It must have been late and he sorted of wanted to sleep. But he also sort of wanted to cause a bit of trouble.

Amused, he looked down at her. "Why would I leave with another girl when I have the best looking one under my arm right now?" Sam asked softly with a cheeky smile. If he was drunk, he was sure Leonie wouldn't see the fact that he was kind of telling the truth. Maybe he did have a crush on her. The bad thing about him was that the more someone pushed him away, the more he wanted them and she'd been keeping him at arm's length for years now. Apart from the time they'd kissed in that corridor. Ah yes. That was locked away for a rainy day.

Make the evening memorable? His big Nordic blue eyes dropped down her body, giving her a decidedly obvious once-over. "You're finally going to submit to my charms?" He asked, blinking a few times as his alcohol-fogged brain fought to focus once more. "Because that'd be sweet," the tall Swede concluded, one of his large hands sliding slowly up the centre of her spine.

As she broke away, Sam rolled his eyes skyward. Oh great. He literally was repelling women, this was fucking soul destroying now. Heaving a sigh, he dragged his feet over as he followed his friend to wherever she was heading, vaguely amused to find himself in an alley way.

"I honestly didn't have you pegged as an alley way kind of girl," he purred, reaching up to scratch the back of his head. Fully expecting to get lucky but having the attention span of a goldfish, he was distracted by the writing on the wall. "Oh cool!" He gushed, his eyes wide as he reached out to poke the damp bricks, taking the time to admire her artwork. Perhaps the next time she walked through here, she'd remember him.

"I like it," he grinned as he looked down at her, his hand dropping to her hip to give her an affectionate squeeze. He was about to turn Leonie around to face him when he heard footsteps. Looking up, he was faintly surprised to see a Muggle police officer. He frowned as he heard the shorter man speak. Graffiti? Eh? Illegal? What now?

"Pardon?" He asked stupidly as he tilted his head. "Have you seen London?" He asked, highly amused at the state of the place. It was old, grey and dirty. There were entire streets with drawings on walls and this man was so offended by four little letters? The man asked why the paint was glowing. "Magic?" Sam said with a smirk. He was telling the truth but he was just being sarcastic.

"British people are odd," he whispered to Leonie in Russian under his breath, shifting to place his hands on his hips. "I like your vest," he began as he spoke to the police man. It was very fun. Bright yellow and glow-in-the-dark. He sort of wanted one. Compelled to touch it, he stepped forward and poke his index finger against the man's chest, right on his badge and what happened next was split second.

His vodka soaked brain couldn't match the police officer's. The shorter man, quick as a flash, had Sam's arm halfway up his back and his face pushed against the cold bricks and he was being held deftly in place. "Ow!" He yelled, struggling, his voice  muffled as he winced, both from the man's hold and the fact that his cheek was pressed hard into a jagged bit of brick. "What are you doing?!" He exclaimed in disbelief. "She did it!" He confessed, attempting to point at Leonie, only to have the police officer apply more pressure to his back.