fountain of youth [alex]

july 2001

“Happy birthday!” Quinn was having to lean in close to be heard, despite their already close proximity. But the room was loud, full of both celebrating Falcons and their fans, everyone there for a reason that wasn’t Alex Regan’s twenty-second birthday. The Falcons had won their playoff match against the Kestrels earlier that day, undoubtedly because of Quinn’s superior seeking skills, and naturally it was cause for celebration. Of course, she couldn’t exactly invite Oliver to attend the celebrations with her, both because he had his own pity party to attend and because they were still denying they knew each other at all.

Her second favorite choice for someone to accompany was her brother and she didn’t have to try too hard to make it seem like inviting him had been her plan all along. Plus, she had been sure to ply him with whisky all evening, which had been working in both their favor.

The clock above the bar had just passed midnight, which meant that it was now, officially, his birthday. She had been doing her best not to dwell on how she had been convinced this day would never come, first when he was stuck at Hogwarts, and then when he was out but in the hospital. Not to mention that he had also missed her birthday while he had been away. None of these things were important now.

She had been a fairly rubbish sister the past few months, first with her substandard emotional response to the whole situation, then with her increased focus on quidditch, not to mention all the free time she was spending with someone who was definitely not her brother. But this, plus the day tomorrow they would be spending in Dublin, would hopefully help them keep getting back to normal.

Quinn finished her drink, which was nothing more than a fancy glass of soda water, and turned back to her brother, draping an arm across his shoulders. “Now that it is officially your birthday, we can do whatever you want.” She grinned, half hoping that the first thing he would want to do would be to leave this party. There were only so many autographs and photo opportunities she wanted to be a part of before it all became rather dull.

Plus, not being the center of attention must have been terrible for Alex, and that was the last thing she wanted for him on a day that was supposed to be all about him.

@Alex Regan

“Thank you very much!” he replied, kissing his sister a little sloppily on the cheek. It was his day now. Yesterday had been Quinn’s day, as well it should have been: seekers may get the blame a lot when their team lost, but the same was true when they won. She'd been being complimented all night. Alex wasn’t used to sharing her quite this much anymore. Lately most of their get-togethers had been private, restaurants or home sofas, like the trauma of the last year had shocked their relationship into something even tenderer and more intimate. But far be it from him to turn down a party.

“Well, we’ve got to be home for breakfast in…nine hours,” he said, the calculation of time from midnight taking an unfortunate couple of seconds with all the whisky in him. “Do we want to sleep, or is that too responsible?”

He didn’t need a thirty-six hour celebration. Maybe when he was seventeen and too eager to be grown he’d have enjoyed something so excessive, but things were different than they’d been in his youth. The fact that he had that thought verbatim had its own problems: what in the hell was he doing thinking like that when he was barely into his twenties, fit and fun and capable of knocking back these drinks Quinn was buying him like nobody’s business? His youth. Absolutely ridiculous. But all the same, he was a little more jaded now, maybe even a little more mature.

Never mind that he felt a little guilty that she was putting in all this effort for him when he’d forgotten her birthday this year for the first time in his entire life. There’d been extenuating circumstances of course, he remembered by the next day, and after he got out of Hogwarts he didn’t actually tell her about that detail at all, but he still felt terrible about it.

“Let’s just go home,” he said. “We’ll be irresponsible tomorrow night. You can come stay over.”

He held his arm out for her to take them back to his place, and grimaced as the sensation of apparition made him pause with nausea for a moment when they arrived. Quinn and her soda water were frustratingly fine. “I feel like such an idiot when you’re sober,” Alex moaned at her, falling back onto the couch. “What’s going on, is it for quidditch? A couple drinks isn’t going to ruin anything.”

Quinn raised her eyebrows at her brother's question. "That is entirely too responsible," she said with a dramatic sigh but she could only hold her serious face for a few seconds before cracking her lips into a grin. "You're twenty-two, not a hundred-two." She nudged him lightly in the ribs. But now that he had mentioned sleeping, she wanted nothing more than to do exactly that. She glanced around the room; the party was still in full swing and it was all too likely that it wouldn't be over soon. She wanted to feel bad about wanting to bail, but she was fairly certain that they would just be having another celebration next week when she won yet another match for them.

She nodded enthusiastically when he suggested going home, waiting a beat to make sure that was what he really wanted and he hadn't just figured out that was what she wanted. Just in case, she grabbed the closest bottle of whisky by its neck before grabbing Alex's arm and doing the honors of whisking them away without giving a second thought to saving goodbye to any of her teammates.

"You're an idiot when I'm not sober, too," she reminded him with a smile, trying her best to help him fall as gracefully as possible onto the sofa before letting go of him. “It would though,” she said quickly, more focused on stepping out of her shoes without losing her balance, her hand still grasping the bottle of whisky. “Ruin it, I mean,” she finished her thought as she picked up Alex's feet enough for her to sit down and replace them in her lap. "You know better than anyone I'm not very good at stopping at just a couple." She grinned as she handed the bottle over, not wanting him to stop enjoying himself just because she wasn't joining him.

She tucked her feet under her and leaned back into the cushions. “Just three matches left, assuming we make it to the finals. Which we will, of course.” She nodded, implying that after those three matches she'd be drinking again. “It’ll roll right into regular training with Ireland, but having a high alcohol tolerance is just as important a stat as anything with that team.” And she was only somewhat joking about that. Never mind that the thought of drinking or even smelling it for too long was enough to make her nauseous lately.

Quinn shifted uncomfortably, tugging at her dress. "This is way too tight for sitting." It was one of those dresses that needed to be admired while she was standing and she was pretty sure that it had shrunk in the wash since the last time she had worn it. "Can I borrow something?"

“Eugh.” Alex grimaced. “What’s the point of winning at quidditch if you’re not allowed to get sloshed?” He knew plenty of sports stars had a whole host of vices off the field. “You’ve just got to learn to manage it. There’s a potion my friend swears by—might send you out for a bit tomorrow morning, come to think of it. Don’t want to show up all—“ She handed him the bottle and he was distracted for a moment as he held it to the light and contemplated before taking another sip straight from it. It was his birthday, he could act like a savage if he liked.

His sister had moved on, squirming under his feet. “Beauty is pain, Quinn,” he replied airily to her complaint. He paused to summon her something from his bedroom and a burgundy Oxford shirt fluttered down onto his lap. “You looked good. Pictures’ll be good. That’s all that matters.” Alex wadded up the shirt and tossed it the last few feet at her. “Get out of that rubbish.”

“Speaking of,” he added after a moment, “I’m going to take this fucking thing off.” He swung his feet off Quinn as she stood to undress and slithered out of his trousers, detaching his left leg with a tap of his wand and propping it up against the coffee table. He’d grown more at ease going without it as of late. Early on it made his insides crawl to look at what was left of him, to feel off-balance—he’d kept the leg on sometimes even when impractical or less comfortable. But there was no point in pretending his body was something it wasn’t and as time went on it got easier. He didn’t consider himself a strictly practical man, necessarily. No one who got anything done was. But he preferred to strike a balance, to avoid self-delusion.

The possibility that Quinn might have been more squeamish didn’t really cross his mind as he shifted back once she’d sat and replaced one foot in her lap. Yawning, he mumbled, “So how does your sober arse want to spend the night?”

Quinn sighed and rolled her eyes. There would be no use explaining her reasoning behind not drinking during the season — again — and she wasn’t about to attempt it now. She nodded along, reminding herself that it was his birthday and he was allowed to think that his opinions really mattered. “Probably a good idea,” she agreed with a grin; she would be the first to point out in the morning just how terrible he looked, birthday or not. “But potion or no potion, I’m not drinking.” She’d only sound repetitive if she mentioned that staying sober would just help her win another match.

"I'm not always in pain, though," she pointed out, fully implying that she was, however, always beautiful. She shrugged, smiling as her brother summoned a shirt for her. "I did, though, didn't I?" she said, catching the tossed shirt. She didn't exactly need Alex to tell her again, but she really did never tire of hearing how good she was looking. It wasn’t something she could hear enough, honestly. “I’ll be sure you get plenty of copies of the photos,” she added with a grin, assuming he would be nothing but grateful.

She pushed his feet from her lap as she stood up, nodding casually as he spoke of his leg. She busied herself with her redressing as he took care of his own, doing her best to keep a nondescript expression when she stole a glance back at him, keeping her eyes fixed on his face. She couldn’t yet claim that she was comfortable with the whole situation with the prosthetic but she also couldn’t claim that she had any business minding one way or the other.

It hadn’t been too obvious just how tight her dress had been until she had changed into Alex’s much looser shirt. Breathing properly was nice and completely underrated and she sat back with a heavy sigh. “Why do I have to pick something?” Quinn raised an eyebrow, again focusing on his face as she questioned him. Still, she was happy that they were talking about anything at all and not giving her a chance to ruin things by asking him to put the leg back on. She was sober, she would have no excuse.

Stealing the whisky might be backfiring on her now as she caught a whiff of the alcohol, either from the open bottle or her plastered brother. That had been her fault, too, of course, but she wasn’t about to blame herself for her stomach’s response to the smell. “You reek of whisky.” She leaned back and sighed, looking up at the ceiling before closing her eyes. “It might be your birthday but you need to do something about that before my stomach does another somersault.”

Quinn nodded slowly as she took a deep breath. “Sorry,” she added quickly before regretting it, realizing how out of character an apology was, regardless of birthdays. “Never mind. It’s your birthday you can smell however you want.” She looked back at him and smiled, making a mental note that he could owe her for her kindness later.