Thomas looked at his hands and his eyes filled with glee, “Thanks and, err.. I didn’t. I…” He didn’t like times like this. Thomas had experienced this side to Rufus more times than he’d admit but Thomas couldn’t help himself. He didn’t know when to stop. Alcohol was a nice release for him sometimes and his limits were not something Tommy cared to learn about. So when this tone came out with Rufus’s words, Thomas knew it was time to stop.

He closed his mouth and nodded, “I won’t.” He shrugged, the joyous glaze in his eyes vanishing, and took the water briskly, placing his wand on his bed. Drinking the water with both hands cupped around the mug, his eyes didn’t move from the other two though they narrowed slightly at Rufus’s plaything. Thomas did like her. She was nice. Thomas was fairly certain they’d get on.

But she was starting to cause a rift between him and Rufus and he didn’t like that. So feigning disinterest, he began looking around the room.

Moments after, Thomas’ eyes drifted to the quill and parchment on his writing desk and suddenly, it was as if the entire world had caved in and he had to hide them. Putting his wand on his pillow and standing up, Thomas practically leapt to his desk though it seemed a lot of alcohol and slurred motor functions weren’t at all helping with his coordination and no sooner had he moved to grab the parchment, had he tripped up and hit his head against the floor.

June 23rd, 1888

I wanted to write because I'm stuck in London and it’s not particularly my idea of an enjoyable time away from home.

How are things back in Hogsmeade?

I was thinking about us- something and it reminded me of when- something. I’m not entirely sure why I’m writing this bu-

“That hurts,” Thomas said with a particularly sad tone and rubbed his head, his eyes drifting hazily toward the two people, “Why d’you two get to be like that?” He huffed, throwing his hands up in their general direction.

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