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The most pitied woman in all of Britain. Possibly all the world. He's awful.
"I'll bleed wherever I damn well please!" She shouted, scowling at him. As if to prove it, she uncovered her nose and shook her head back and forth like a dog attempting to dry its fur of water. Little droplets of blood rained on the sidewalk all willy-nilly. Billie Farrow in A Good Dusting
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February "28th", 1890 — Leaky Cauldron
Domhnall didn't tend to make it a habit to read the news and when he did, he often didn't linger long on the headlines. This time around, however, he was quite fascinated. A Florida man had apparantly tampered with time and its effects were said to ripple worldwide. It was amazing what a time turner in the hands of the wrong person could do. Domhnall could not say if there had been any changes in his own sphere that he had noticed. Then again, he was generally poor at noticing most things - such as what the reporter said about muggles. "Have you noticed any changes in your life?" He asked of the nearest fellow patron as he indicated the article.

More time in the day? More time to drink, more likely. Theodore was more conscious of how long he stayed at the Broomsticks in Hogsmeade, being as it was close to home, and only went to the Hog’s Head discreetly if he had plans to get wasted; the Leaky Cauldron was a little too public for his liking, but he could still have a few and pretend he was only ‘passing through’.

“Nope,” Theodore said, a touch sourly. “Not bloody one.” Of all the things that time might undo, things about his life that might be different, he’d gotten nothing. His Ministry career was still dead in the water. His father was still left for dead. Who knew, maybe his father was dead for real now. What did it even matter? And were the Cannons playing any better in practices than usual? Not a chance.

“Why, have you?” He returned, a touch reluctant to delve into any more conversation with the younger fellow - a Connolly? - next to him at the bar.

Domhnall waited expectantly for the older man to answer him. He was utterly oblivious to the fact Gallivan was being grumpy. He smiled brightly as his question was answered and it was returned on him. The mans reluctance to be in a conversation with Domhnall Connolly was sorely missed, it wooshed right on over the redheads head as most things tended to do.

"I don't think so. I made two brooms more than I usually do," he said thoughtfully. "Two more" meaning that he had made two because he generally wasn't trusted to make any at all. He peered at Gallivan in thought for a moment. "Say, weren't you impaled once? Looks like you recovered pretty well." The fact that he shouldn't bring up something from six years ago was lost on him - he still personally remembered the horrific scene quite clearly.

Theodore made a begrudgingly impressed face at the other bloke’s answer, not because of the “two more” in itself, and more because he hadn’t known that this Connolly was a broommaker. “Huh,” he said wryly. “Guess time is on some people’s side.”

His tone grew no less wry at what the - younger, he thought - man recognised him for. Of course a broommaker would be interested in that. “That’s me,” Theo said with a long-suffering sigh and a pinch of bitter amusement, taking a long draught of his drink before he answered anything else. “I mean, it was six years ago,” he said. “But I’ve still got the scar.” (Still a bit gruesome-looking, if he were honest. Though fortunately not visible with a shirt on.)

Domhnall wasn't sure what Mister Gallivn meant by that but he smiled nonetheless, assuming it was meant as some sort of compliment.

Domhnall wasn't quite able to resist a glance as if he could see the scar through the mans shirt. Which he couldn't, of course. "Is that partly what put you off playing professional? From what I remember of your skill, you could have made it like Cassius Lestrange. " Domhnall was a fan of Lestrange and the Chudley Cannons in general. And it was only now that it clicked in his head that Gallivans were his favorite teams sponsors.

I had other ambitions then, Theodore didn’t say. Unlike now, because I don’t have any ambitions left.

“Probably,” he said instead, falsely light, draining his glass in another draught and exhaling for as long as he could before pitching forwards to another. “It’d have been my luck for something like that to happen twice,” he remarked, pretending he found it funny. “But thanks.” He added, in slight surprise. He’d never really thought himself in quite the same league as his house captain; never mind the fact that if his father had fast-tracked him to first string of the Cannons, it would looked pretty bad. (And as far as he knew, Lestrange had never had the skill to impale himself.)

“I take it you’re a fan of quidditch?” It wasn’t a stretch, given his occupation and his line of inquiry. Theo wasn’t sure whether this was flattering or prodding unintentionally at a sore spot. “Or do you play?”

"Oh yes, the Cannons are my favorites!" His reasons were probably arbitary and he would be at a loss for an answer if he was to be asked why they were his favorite. He probably should be supporting a team closer to home but the Cannons had former classmates he had admired on its roster.

"I don't play. I tried out for my house Quidditch team in Hogwarts but broke my broom. And my arm. So I didn't make the team."

“Good choice,” Theo said, before he could refrain from the sarcasm about what was his own stupid team. He ought to be pleased, probably, if there were people out there who still supported the Cannons for any reason at all - if their place dipped any lower in the next few leagues Theodore fully expected them all to jump ship.

Lucky his father was God-knew-where these days. Hopefully they didn’t have English newspapers there.

Covering his tracks - not especially well, but hoping to skim past the sarcasm as if it hadn’t happened - Theo snorted more sympathetically at the story. “Rotten luck,” he remarked more sincerely now, although privately it sounded like it was fortunate he hadn’t made it onto the actual team, where injuries abounded for every player, not just Theo! “Shame the time-tampering didn’t meddle with events back then for you,” he half-joked, supposing the fellow might be playing nowadays if things had worked out a little better. On that topic: “Would have been nice to live un-impaled, myself. But who knows, maybe the Cannons’ chances have turned better in this timeline,” he mused, trying to sound hopeful for the sake of a supporter.

(It would have been nice for the Cannons if, in the new timeline, they’d gotten a better sponsor.)

"I like to think so - are you a fan?" He asked. Sarcasm was honestly usually lost on Domhnall and now wasn't any different. And so he tought that the other man was genuinely complimenting his choice.

"Oh, I wonder how that would have been," Domhnall mused. It would have been great to succeed at something. He nodded in sympathy when the other young man spoke of how it would have been nice to have live un-impaled. "Oh, I'm certain! Cassius Lestrange is just in a slump."

Theo’s brow creased as he peered across at Connolly, perplexed by his question. Was he a fan? Of what, the bloke’s school quidditch that had never been?

Oh, the Cannons? Theodore sat there with a slightly nonplussed smile as his company continued, sounding hopeful enough for the both of them. And although he seemed a little... naive, even he had apparently noticed their seeker’s mood swings taking their toll. Awkward.

This was probably the time to defend his players, instead of continuing to criticise his own team. “Mm, yes, happens to everyone, even the best seekers,” Theo agreed. “He’s been having a good run in practices though,” he not-quite-lied, tapping his nose as if to say that this was exciting confidential news. “We’ll have another win anytime soon. And I’m not just saying that because I’m their sponsor.”

He took another long swig of his drink to get through this, hoping that was enough to satisfy the Cannons fan opposite. He was not entirely sure how to shake him off the subject.

"Yes, they are only human." Well, unless they were part vampire. But Domhnall knew nothing about part-vampires and wondered if they would get sunburned being so high up in the sky. He listened eagerly as Gallivan said that Lestrange had been having a good run in practices. That was relieving to hear.

It took a moment for it to click in his mind that Gallivan had just more or less said that he was the Cannons sponsor. "That's excellent to hear. Would you like me to buy you another drink?" He had been bending the other mans ear for so long that it seemed only fair.

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