[maidstone] living life on easy mode â—¦ dennis

(cw: underage alcohol use)

Magnolia had circled the room at least two and a half times before she had found herself sitting in between two strangers on the sofa, sucking absentmindedly at some sad attempt at a tropical drink through a glittery purple straw. The straws, courtesy of the discount store down the way from her house, were meant to liven up the party but there had been too many people and not enough to share, plus the glittery party favors had sort of clashed with whatever theme—she looked around—the house was going for. Reaching the bottom of her drink, the loud sucking noise she made attracted the unwanted attention of some random girl (she’d never seen her in her life!) giving her a glare of death that made Magnolia scoff, rising to her feet, rolling her eyes and disappearing back into the kitchens.

“The kitchens are not for guests,” she said pointedly to another stranger as they rummaged through the kitchen cupboard, a little disappointed that Billie and Mavis had gone MIA and hadn’t really come back looking for her. She had been looking for Killian for well over an hour or two, though realistically maybe like five minutes and Jae didn’t seem to have made it to the party.

Leaning against the skin counter, she sucked at the straw again, before setting her now emptied plastic cup on whatever surface was available. She wasn’t really ready to admit it (hadn’t had the two wine coolers it would take her to get there yet) but what had really peeved her the most was the fact that Isaac hadn’t thought to show up! She hadn’t like, invited him to go together, but when did he even do what he was told? The point was not to tell him so that he would show up, pretending like he hadn’t done it to be the rebel.

She shook her head. She and Isaac were totally over, she decided, and as if to prove a point, she scanned the room, tugging at the bottom of her short yellow dress as it rose when she leaned back (cute dress, not comfortable!) in search of someone to direct her attention towards. This would be a test, that if she passed, would show that Isaac was totally last season and she’d ditch those feelings for good. If she were bold enough, she’d kiss just about any stranger in the party (within reason, she had a reputation, after all) to make her point.  She hadn't gotten all dressed up for Isaac (she had, it was true) so there was no point in wasting a perfectly good dress by pouting in the corner.

Finding her target, she bumped into a few people on the way over. “Hey, hey, where you runnin’ off to?” she said loudly in hopes of getting his attention, “Party’s that way,” she joked pointing in the direction of the living room, though she figured there was a little bit of party going on in most areas of the house.

“I’m Nola, by the way, short for Magnolia,” she started, maneuvering herself to stand in front of him. He hadn’t asked but surely he wanted to know, right? Plus she was one of the hostesses, this wasn’t weird at all. Sizing him up as she took in what he was wearing, in her opinion, the best way to get a feel for who he was: denim, t-shirt, “Oh-cute sneakers, vintage?” she asked, though she didn’t wait for an answer before she looked at him again, “So, who’d you come with?” she asked, teen-speak for Where did you come from? and waited expectantly for his answer.   

@Dennis Creevey

So Hayden Scott, intern, had invited him to a house party. Dennis didn’t really like or dislike Hayden — didn’t know him well at all — but there weren’t many people in their late teens or early twenties at work, so sometimes they exchanged (youthful) nods when he went into the office. Hayden was a bit weird (who wasn’t, where they worked) but he was two years younger than Dennis and had been a Gryffindor; they’d sort of known each other in school.

So here he was, at some house in the middle of a field with Hayden and a couple of his friends whose names Dennis had already forgotten.

“Pretty sure that kid’s like fourteen,” Dennis muttered, leaning close enough to the guy walking beside him that they could hear what he was saying over the music. He said it with a puzzled sort of smile, testing the water, rather than like a complaint or any other kind of way that let the slowly rising alarm into his tone. He didn’t want to step on any toes, or accuse anyone of anything, but he’d really expected this to be a party for young twenty-somethings, not, like, drunk daycare.

Dennis had steeled himself for running into people his age; seeing people from his year or Colin’s or the year he’d gone into when he’d gone back to school always made him anxious, and he’d worked himself up to be able to do it. Dropping out of school and moving out of London had been the best things he’d ever done for himself, but he’d really spent the last year in hermit mode. And these last months had been especially dark and solitary. Now that he had the capacity to be a bit more social, he was exercising his skills. Or something.

“Sorry,” he muttered as he bumped into a girl who was probably sixteen but was definitely under five foot tall and looked about twelve. God, this was a mistake. He knew he should have said no — when was the last time he’d been to a house party? Even an appropriately aged one? Well, aside from Marian’s ones, that was, but that didn’t really count because she was like thirty and his housemate, so it was sort of impossible to escape them. And they weren’t particularly enjoyable, anyway. Whatever. Dennis had just turned twenty-one and felt about eighty surrounded by all of these teenagers.

One such teenager cut him off suddenly, and Dennis watched in mild alarm as the people he’d come with disappeared further into the house ahead of him. He smiled a bit when she teased him, to be polite, but the smile didn't really linger.

Nola, short for Magnolia.

“Dennis,” he said, swapping his beer bottle from one hand to the other. He glanced over her shoulder towards the doorway at the end of the hall, then down at his shoes as she commented on them. “Ah…?” He smiled again, a bit confused. They were just filthy, he thought, but surely she knew that. Her next question was easier. “Hayden?” He answered, wondering if she had any idea who that was. “Hayden Scott.” He had a little sister, Dennis remembered vaguely. Maybe Magnolia knew the sister.

“Hey, listen,” he said, before she had a chance to continue (he felt like she wanted something). “Sorry but, how old are you?” Dennis leaned against the wall beside him, his stance casual despite the fact that he didn’t feel so relaxed deep down. “Or, whoever’s party this is — how old are they?” He'd feel slightly less bad if the host was over — at the very least, seventeen or eighteen — but he didn't have high expectations.