Releasing her once she had righted herself was more difficult than he expected it to be. His hands weren't magically trapped by any means, but it took a great amount of will power not to draw her in further. Dory hadn't ever been the sort to act against a woman's will, though, and seeing how uncomfortable he'd made her he eventually did manage to let go.

"No, I don't imagine they're much of a pleasure to smell when you've been around them day in and out." He commented lightly. "Do you need anything?"

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"That they are not," Mabel agreed easily, her fingers brushing against his shirt as she withdrew her hold from him. It wasn't as easy to forget that he smelled positively wonderful. Like...well he smelled like Dory, didn't he? Like he always did. But somehow tonight something changed, and Mabel found herself curious to find out what it was.

"A drink." The words were out of her mouth before she knew what she was saying. It was rare that she wanted any alcohol, but with her tear stained cheeks and feeling suddenly quite cold - or was it the absence of Dory next to her? - perhaps it was time for a drink. "If...if that's alright."

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A drink was something be could manage with quick ease. It might also relax her enough that she would be able to fall asleep comfortably. He would sneak back out to the couch once she drifted off, lest she wake up in the morning alarmed to have joined him in bed.

"Do you have a preference? I have whiskey, gin, vodka? There might be some scotch tucked away in the cabinet too." His collection was usually broader than that, but having increased his at home consumption by more than he likely ought to had destroyed most of his stash. "Or did you mean something lighter?"

He stood then, his hand grazing hers in the process. Why hadn't she backed away when he released her? Why hadn't he waited for her to before standing? Merlin, he ought to simply put her to bed now and escape before making a foolish decision.

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"Whiskey with a little water," Mabel replied automatically - it was a drink she commonly had heard people throw around, so why not try it? It seemed like the perfect occasion to do so, and people also seemed to drink to forget. Normally it was when they came out the other side that Mabel saw the consequences of that sort of drinking, however tonight she felt willing to forego the cautionary tales.

But even though she was likely expected to stay in the room, she followed behind him quietly. Sitting back down only made her feel slightly nauseous. "What book were you reading?" She asked conversationally as she branched off to wander and left him to go into the kitchen by himself.

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Try as he might, Dory couldn't quite picture Maple as a whiskey lady. He envisioned her liking sweeter drinks, wine most likely, so he couldn't help the quick flash of surprise that took over his features. Whiskey with water. At least it was more manageable than wine.

He led the way back into the main part of his flat and took a quick detour on his way to the kitchen to grab the discarded whiskey bottle. There wasn't much left now, but he could easily make two more drinks of it. "Oh, some mystery novel. I can loan it to you after I've finished it if you'd like." Dory explained casually, peeking his head out of the kitchen in the process.

Once the drinks were made, he carried them both out to her and kept the stiffer one for himself. "Let me know if there's enough water in it for you."

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beautiful set by lady

"Thank you," Mabel took the glass, and took a sip. Not too bad; she'd had tonics that tasted worse. Sighing, she flopped onto the couch behind her, taking little care to make sure she was sitting upright or even properly at all. In fact she slumped almost all the way down to the seat, her hair gathering above her head in an already tangled mess. "What a day."

She took another sip - a bigger one this time, and savored the way it burned her throat on the way down. It was in this moment that she realized she forgot to eat dinner, as the whiskey immediately burned well past her throat.

"Dory do you ever imagine yourself doing anything other than being at the Ministry?" The question popped out of her mouth, spurred on by her desire to fill the air with more conversation and less silence; less time to dwell over her horrible day, at least.

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Deep within himself, Dory knew he ought to sit opposite her. He had had too much to drink at this point, she was obviously vulnerable and, unlike the countless flings he'd had over the years, Dory was hesitant to allow things to evolve with Maple in this state. Maybe it was because they were friends, maybe he didn't feel as urgent a need for intimacy as he did connection, he didn't know. But he knew sitting next to her was likely a bad idea.

However, it didn't stop him from sinking into the cushion on the other end of the sofa instead. He was fully turned to face her, his knee carelessly thrown over the other. There was still enough distance between them that he needn't worry about touching her.

"I still dream about playing quidditch, can't anymore with my shoulder and all." Dory shrugged before taking a drink. "I think about traveling sometimes. Do you fancy being a mediwitch forever?"

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All too soon the question was turned back on her and she frowned into her glass as she shifted her weight to face him and scoot to the other end of the couch. Another gulp of her drink saw her feet lift from the floor to curl under her and she pressed further into the pillows. Mmmm, soft and warm and comforting. But she still wouldn't let Dory turn the question to her so suddenly. "But you still fly occasionally, don't you?"

He must have - just because he couldn't play Quidditch doesn't mean he had to give up flying altogether.

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"Yeah, of course." He gestured towards where his broom stood propped in the corner. "I usually go once or twice a week. It isn't the same though." Nothing quite compared to the rush and thrill of the game. After all, he'd been searching for years with limited success.

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Mabel followed his arm, her eyes lingering on the way it rose to flick casually over to the broom sitting in the corner. She sipped her drink once more before something else propelled her off the couch and she was walking towards the broomstick. "Have you taught anyone to fly?" Mabel pondered, more to herself than anyone else.

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He eyed her curiously. There were a few friends (and flings) he'd taught over the years, but never at night while drunk. "Some. Do you want to learn? I could teach you sometime." The fact that so many people managed to leave Hogwarts without learning truly baffled him.

Draining his glass in two large gulps, Dory discarded his glass and shifted more comfortably into the sofa. "It isn't too hard."

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"It's not?" She'd tried to learn throughout the years, but never quite got the hang of it. Which was saying something given that she had succeeded in becoming an animagus. It was, of course, extremely difficult, but there was something about the prospect of being an animagus that had made her so committed to seeing that she'd be able to transform. If she was able to become an animagus, she would surely be able to learn how to fly.

"I would love to learn," Mabel ultimately decided turning to smile at him. "Do you think you'll be able to teach me?"

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"No, it's more about balance than anything." Balance and coordination really, but if she was lacking coordination then she wouldn't have been as well suited for her career as she was. In fact, Dory would go as far to argue that there was no better mediwitch in all of Hogsmeade, something he thought better of before speaking it aloud.

"I don't see why not, I have a spare broom around here somewhere I think." (Or he used to, where had it gone to?) "Not tonight. I wouldn't suggest a new rider take her first solo flight in the dark."

Dory walked over to where she stood and eyed both her and the broom. "We could go for a ride now, that is if you'd like to. This one is plenty sturdy to hold us both."

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beautiful set by lady

Balance. She had balance, didn't she? Well, perhaps not this moment with a glass of whiskey on an empty stomach (she just remembered she hadn't had any dinner after her shift), but she would remember that for their lesson sometime in the future. Perhaps she would be in a better mood then, but there was no promising such things. Not when her job was to deal in chaos and make sense of the broken pieces it left. And perhaps flying would prove to be rather freeing. At the moment, Maple enjoyed nothing more than to transform into her animagus form and take off for a run. It cleared her head in ways that she never thought possible before. It could very well be that flying would be the same.

She watched him walk over to her with a peculiar look in his eye, and she tilted her head in curiosity as a response. "Oh!" Flying, now? The mediwitch quickly glanced outside - aside from being dark, she did remember that the night's air wasn't too cold due to the remaining summer heat. Turning back to look at Dory, her lips quirked up in a small smile. "Well, alright," She gave in eventually, moving past him and picking up her glass once more to down the rest of its contents. They called drinks of this sort liquid courage, didn't they? Not that it could hold a candle to liquid luck, but it served its purpose, and Mabel turned back to Dory, a renewed vigor in her step. "Let's try it."

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A night flight always cleared his mind, so perhaps it would be the final boost she needed to put the day's awful events behind her. "Alright, come with me then," he grinned, taking the broom from her and swinging open the front door. Dory might have suggested her cloak if they were taking separate brooms, but their combined body heat and whiskey would keep them warm enough. It wasn't as though he was going to fly them to London.

He led the way to the garden on the side of the house whilst debating whether or not she should be in front of or behind him. She would likely feel more stable holding onto him, but the freedom being on a broom with nothing blocking one's view was one of life's greatest experiences. He could direct her and the broom, too, so he needn't worry about any crashes. "Here, climb on." Dory cheerfully instructed, making the final decision to seat himself behind her.

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With a buzzing feeling spreading throughout her fingertips, Mabel followed him close behind, all the while her eyes surveying his back. Perhaps it was the liquor affecting her — the world did seem to be a bit brighter, didn't it? — but had Dory always seemed this...confident? Sure-footed? As they walked through the yard, Mabel's gaze slid down to rest on the back of his hand. Immediately she was reminded of how firm his grip had been when he pulled her away from the rubble of the Valentine's Day wreckage. He hadn't let her go storming into a collapsing building then; so surely if she were to be uneasy on a broom he'd be able to keep a hold on her?

She'd just come to the resolution that everything would be fine as long as she held onto him, when she was pulled back to the present and found Dory in front of her motioning for her to get on the broom...in the front. "What?" Her voice came out as a raspy squeak, as if she'd just downed another glass of whiskey. "In front?" Her hands waved nonsensically in front of her as she began to back away slowly. "I really shouldn't be in front, I don't know how to steer!" Surely this was madness.

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