20th October, 1894 — Reg & Felix’s flat

So they had lost yesterday’s match against Wimbourne, and last week’s to Kenmare, and never mind the disaster to Falmouth – but they hadn’t lost every match, so what was all this fuss about? There were always teething problems with new players on a team. The mutterings about their female players had gotten louder, though, and Theo was fed up of opening the post from supposed Cannons fans and being treated to their opinions. So he had had a terrible day, and he was at the end of his tether, but he’d had a thought about how to combat some of the bad press.

And he hadn’t given it much of a second thought before acting on it, to be honest. But Reg had been his dormmate for seven years, after all – if anyone would write just one reasonable article about them, surely Reg would. (Theo might have forgotten that Reg had moved departments from sports to crime and politics until he was standing at the door of his friend’s flat, knocking at the door – but it didn’t matter; Theo could still pick his brain and find out which of his former sports colleagues would be most help.)

He realised it was late in the evening, and Alderton might be busy, but – oh, there was the door. “Hey,” Theo said, a weight already off his shoulders just to see a friendly face. “Can I come in?” He didn’t wait for Reg to answer before he stepped in.

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Reginald Alderton/Gus Lissington

  

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Reg sat in the armchair, his elbows pressed to his knees as he stared at nothing in particular, a red ink tipped quill in hand with an assortment of sheets of parchment scattered around him. A mug of tea that had long since gone cold was beginning to form a ring on the table sat to his right, and next to that was a saucer with a barely eaten slice of apple pie and a fork nestled next to it. His mother had given him the pie because she didn’t seem to think that two bachelors were capable of finding their own food, never mind that he and Felix had someone come in and cook for them. Reg always accepted the offer because he learned that it was better not to fight her on this.

After letting out a frustrated huff the wizard dropped the quill and leaned back, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand. He had a story due soon and the muse was not there for him and Felix wasn’t home to bounce ideas off of. Maybe that was the issue - Reg missed his boyfriend and all he could concentrate on was how many more hours, minutes, seconds until Felix was back home with him.

The knock at the door made his features brighten before they promptly fell because of course Felix wouldn’t knock on his own door. Still, Reg unfolded himself from the chair to go answer it, happy to have at least some form of distraction from his current predicaments. He blinked in surprise as Theo stepped past him into the flat without waiting for an answer; well, at least he hadn’t had any intention of turning him away once he saw who it was.

“Theo,” Reg murmured, shutting the door behind him before he turned toward him. His eyes swept over the room and he couldn’t help but wince – the place was a mess and he was half embarrassed for his friend to see the place like this. He and Felix didn’t normally live like this. He moved a pile of books, a combination of his and Felix’s, although at this point it was their stuff versus mine and yours, off the couch before he waved for Theo to take a seat. “Sit down. You look like you’ve been hit by a Bludger—several, actually.” Well, at least his expression did.

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Theodore Gallivan // Elias Grimstone

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He was intruding and he knew it – Reg wouldn’t have been clearing the mound of books away if he hadn’t been. Was his roommate in? Theo had been going to ask, and to say he’d get out of the way, but thank Merlin, Reg had told him to sit.

Theo threw himself down in the spot that had opened up on the couch. “Sorry,” he prefaced, rueful. “Bit of a shite day. Week. While. I don’t know – I could use your advice... But how are you?” He added, before he launched into it: he scanned the room, spotting all the parchment, the tea, the slice of pie.

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Reg was pleased when Theo sat, if only because he could stop the awkward clearing of books. Still, his hand lingered on a precariously balanced stack of books as he squinted at his friend, a flicker of concern passing over his face. Nodded because he understood what it was like to have a terrible week, but Reg had never been one to press for details. Theo would tell when, or really if, he was ready.

“I’m alright.” Reg hesitated, because he didn’t want this moment to become about him. He straightened up and gestured vaguely at the scattered parchment and the half-eaten slice of pie on the side table. “Have a story due soon, but you can see how well it’s going.” He’d get it done, though. Reg hadn’t missed a deadline yet, and he certainly wasn’t going to start now.

He moved a few more books onto the floor before settling into the armchair opposite of the couch, his gaze resting on Theo. “What's got you in a knot? I can get you some tea, or something stronger before we start.”

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“If you’ve got something stronger,” Theo echoed hopefully. Reg had a tea already, but if there was any benefit to living alone (or with a roommate, as opposed to one’s family) was that there was no one, with any luck, to judge your drinking habits. And he felt a little stupid now that he was here, because pleading for just a little good press was probably not the way to do things.

But Reg was – Reg, as familiar a face as they came. So maybe being here couldn’t hurt, even if it was just to complain for a while and pilfer from his drinks stores. “Oh, it’s – just quidditch stuff. Sorry, I forgot you’re not in sports anymore,” he admitted, with a wry laugh. “How’s crime treating you, anyway?”

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One of Reg’s favorite activities was getting tipsy in the flat with Felix, if only because he could often coax his boyfriend into dancing with him. He’d be more inclined to go to balls if he could do the same there. With a nod, Reg moved out of the room, briefly, to grab a bottle of whiskey, along with a couple glasses, returning quickly. He settled everything onto the side table, leaning forward to pour a respectable amount of whiskey, although as he glanced at Theo, Reg decided he probably needed a little more than respectable, so he poured until both glasses were filled near the top.

Then he pushed it toward his friend, offering him a smile. “You can thank Anthony for that,” Reg mumbled with an eyeroll; why his older brother would decide to sponsor a team after he’d gotten a job as a sport reporter was beyond him, but it had certainly made him look bias. But then again Anthony was always a selfish bastard, moonlighting as a knight in shining armor. “I miss it, I think. But crime is good. Interesting. Felix and I get to work together a lot, which is a lot of fun.” Plus now Reg had a reason to be his shadow without it looking weird.

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   Theodore Gallivan

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Theo’s mood improved by a measure or two just from having the drink in hand or the unquestioning commiseration of a friend. He raised his glass in a mock-toast, and took a hearty swig. He didn’t want to intrude for too long, not if Reg had work to do and stories to write, but getting drunk at his flat sounded like a very tempting solution to his bad mood problems in the meantime.

It struck him, as he snorted at the unwitting sound of crime is good out of context, that Alderton seemed to be in a rather good mood – he seemed light here, happy and at ease. Maybe the freedom of living out in this flat, of having a job he enjoyed – with Felix, apparently. (Theo knew the other Prewett twin better, obviously, for quidditch reasons.) But he knew Reg well enough to poke fun. “Working together and living together?” he remarked, raising his eyebrows as if impressed. “You two must really get along.”

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   Reginald Alderton

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A small laugh escaped him as Theo raised his glass. Yeah, this was a hell of a lot better than trying to sit down and write, and maybe after a few drinks and a few more laughs, Reg would be more interested in work. He settled into the chair, taking a swig of his own drink before he found his gaze flicking over to Theo, his eyes widening for a moment as he mentioned Felix – surely Theo hadn’t put two and two together already.

Instantly Reg was waving his hand dismissively. “Well, you know. Felix is well, he’s Felix.” He wasn’t sure how well Theo knew him, but hopefully well enough to know his personality: kind, loving, funny as hell, and quite frankly, someone who was easy to become smitten with. God, how in the world did he describe his boyfriend without using the word perfect? Reg cleared his throat. “It made sense to move in together since we work so closely, and now we can finish up work here, instead of the office.”

Reg leaned back in his chair, deciding more words would make this situation better. “Plus he hasn’t murdered me in my sleep yet, either because he’s tired of me or for the story, so I suppose we do get along well.” He drummed his fingers nervously against the side of the glass in his hands. “He either has the patience of a saint, though, putting up with me at work and at home,” he shrugged before he turned toward Theo, quickly adding, “or maybe he just doesn’t have any other friends, so I’m his only option.” Though Felix was Felix – if he wanted someone else, he would have them in an instance.

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   Theodore Gallivan

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Theo didn’t know Prewett well enough to know that Felix was, well, Felix, but he was amused by how much Reg had to say on the subject. Maybe it was the life of a reporter, grown too used to rambling – but Reg did seem a little odd, didn’t he? Fidgety, or nervously talking himself in circles.

Theo just grinned at him, bemused. “Like a happily married couple, then, huh?” He joked without thinking – because Reg must have the same kind of saintly patience he was attributing to his roommate, if he couldn’t even find anything to jokingly complain about behind his back – but he almost flinched at his own remark.

(No one could read anything into that, surely; and that surely wasn’t Reg’s situation... or was it? He considered it, fleetingly, Reg’s widened eyes and fond rambling... but Theo had to imagine he was – probably unfairly biased to that idea.)

“I s’pose you could always check his room for weapons,” Theo continued, swiftly casual, and taking another hearty swig of his drink as if he was going to move on. But he was still newly (and perhaps wishfully) curious, underneath it, at how Reg was talking. “Where is he tonight?”

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Well that would certainly make the Season easier - a ring on his finger. It would mean he didn’t have to dance with anyone, and hell, he wouldn’t even have to go because the whole point was finding a wife, wasn’t it? Unable to help himself because he really liked the idea of being married to Felix Prewett (and didn’t consider for even one second how odd the comment was), Reg grinned. “Something like that.”

The conversation moved and Reg couldn’t help but cast a glance at their door; it had really only been Felix’s room for the first few months but now he slept in there too. He didn’t offer that information to Theo, though. “The worst thing you’ll find in there is a dirty spoon he forgot to take to the kitchen.” Reg said, although it just confirmed that Theo didn’t know Felix at all. They should change that, right?

Reg blinked, a bit taken back by the question, before he took a swig of his drink. “He’s visiting one of his brothers. Freddie, I think.” He tried to play it casual like he didn’t know exactly where his boyfriend was or when he was going to be returning home. (Reg tended to fret whenever he was running late.) His fingers nervously drummed against the glass.

“Why all the questions? Aren’t we here to talk about you?”

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“Just checking you have your story straight,” Theo joked, as deadpan as he could, and then explained with a laugh, “It’s nice to give you journalists a taste of your own medicine, occasionally.” And the truth was Theo was probably reading too much into Reg’s affectionate ramblings, the nervous laughter – there didn’t have to be any deeper meaning to it. It was some lingering effect of his Auror training, maybe, that he couldn’t always shake, that left him attempting to puzzle together pieces of a plot where there wasn’t one.

Because Reg was probably just living the carefree bachelor life he seemed to be, and got along well with his roommate, and was happier than ever for it; and maybe, in truth, Theo was just a little jealous of how his life sounded. Something like that.

He took another sip of his drink, and lowered his glass so that he could fidget with it instead. He would rather keep teasing Reg, he thought. It was more fun. “Oh, I was just wondering what it would take to get some good press for once,” he sighed. For the Cannons, anyway. Merlin forbid he let a woman or two sign to the team without a certain set of the fanbase and Reg’s old colleagues having a field day with it.

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Reg couldn’t help but grin at his friend even if he was inwardly pleased that they were moving away from the conversation of him and Felix; it wasn’t like he didn’t trust Theo because of course he did, it was just… this was a huge secret, and it wasn’t just his to tell. Plus it didn’t seem like the time nor the place to drop that kind of bomb, so it was best if they avoided beating around the topic altogether.

(At least being a reporter had made him better at not giving away information, which he might have readily done while they were at Hogwarts together.)

Reg tossed one last look at their bedroom as if he was waiting for the door to fly open and all his secrets to spill out, but once it didn’t, thank Merlin, he turned toward Theo. “Come on Teddy,” he said, shifting forward in the chair until he was practically out of it just so he could nudge the rim of his glass against Theo’s with a gentle clink. “The Cannons aren’t embarrassing themselves every other week, and for what it’s worth, I think signing all the women was the smartest thing you’ve ever done.” Reg hoped he was talking about quidditch and not something he’d done.

He leaned back again before his back could protest at the angle. “If you want some good press, let me write it. Profiles of your new players for people to get to know them? I can follow one around and write the day in the life of someone too.” Reg shrugged. Females in a male dominated environment could be classified as political, if someone were to ask him.

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   Theodore Gallivan

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It was, to be perfectly honest, hard to stay glum when Reg was grinning so easily, and calling him old nicknames, and forcing him to cheers to things. And not embarrassing themselves every week was rather a low bar to be pleased about clearing, but Theo supposed it was true, things could be worse for the Cannons. They had lost a couple of games, maybe, but they hadn’t done a complete landslide in the league tables. “You don’t have to do that,” Theo said, feeling a little guilty for coming precisely to try and coax Reg into helping him – but so grateful for the offer he couldn’t protest it too heartily, either. “But it – probably wouldn’t hurt.” Even if Reg planted the seed of the idea in his colleagues’ minds. Theo smiled back at him, a little more hopeful.

And then raised his eyebrows, laughing. “The smartest thing I’ve ever done?” Was that journalistic hyperbole, or did Reg really mean that? (And if so, should Theo be flattered or insulted by that notion? How low a bar was that to clear?)

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“Yeah, but I want to.” Reg said just as Theo was saying that it couldn’t hurt. He’d write it himself, if only because he didn’t trust the reporters he formerly worked with to write something that painted Theo and the Cannons in a good light. No, if this was going to happen, Reg might as well do it himself to ensure it was done properly. He had a few ideas on the angle he might use, but he’d need to think on them before presenting them.

Reg laughed quietly as he nervously scratched at his cheek. “Well, the bar is set low, so the smartest thing you’ve ever done wasn’t hard to top.” They’d done some stupid shit together back at Hogwarts that had earned their fair share of lectures and detentions (his personal favorite being the time they had tried to bribe the Slytherin prefect with toffee to look the other way when they were out past curfew), and well, Reg hadn’t matured much and he was certain that Theo hadn’t either.

“I just know what it's like, is all. Wanting to do something but knowing that the parts of you that you can’t change is the reason people think you don’t belong.” Reg shrugged like it explained everything. “And I think it’s smart to give someone a chance to do the thing they’re good at. Means they’ll work hard to prove to you and everyone else they belong, which in turn is gonna make them win games. And that makes fans happy, which means more money, huh?” And for those against it, they’d probably buy tickets just to heckle them and hope they were able to see them lose.

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   Theodore Gallivan

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“Well, you were always the bad influence – you know that, right?” Theo protested, chuckling along at the easy ribbing. He would call himself the good influence – mostly because he had been a little more of a natural leader than Reg was, and only one of them had gotten quidditch captain and Head Boy – but Reg was right. They’d still had their share of fun and misadventures in their time.

But, in spite of his sudden lightness and good cheer at Reg’s offer of help, Theo felt the laughter fade at what Reg said next. He had a good point, about the quidditch element – but there was another part that seemed to have made a lump form in Theo’s throat. Something about the parts of you you can’t change – and he didn’t know what Reg was talking about particularly, what had ever made him feel like that, but – Theo thought he understood it. He had certainly felt like he didn’t belong.

He wanted, sincerely, to ask Reg what he meant – in case it was the same thing. So he studied him over his glass, thoughtful, careful, sympathetic. Theo thought his look might be curious and hopeful enough to say tell me why you feel like that? – but no matter how close he and Alderton were, it felt like a risky subject to broach, if he was entirely wrong.

So he waited, and blinked, and kicked himself into action again, back to the safety of gratitude and a wry grin. “Sounds like a plan. Maybe I should come to you for advice more often... seems like I’m not the only one getting smarter with age.”

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Reg laughed, even as his lips curled into a soft smile. He would hardly call himself a bad influence, just more go with the flow kind of person which ultimately led to some not so great decisions. Or sometimes he didn’t know when to stop talking (he talked a lot when he was nervous), and said things he shouldn’t, just like he had just now. Theo didn’t say anything, not directly, but he could see his brain working overtime as if he was trying to determine what Reg meant by his words.

But he didn’t ask and Reg let out a small breath once he realized that he wasn’t going to have to talk in circles to describe what he meant by that. Theo would have his own thoughts on it, but they were good enough friends that he probably wasn’t going to risk offending Reg by saying something he wasn’t entirely sure of. The smile didn’t leave his face and it felt like an entire lifetime passed between them before Theo finally spoke again. It took another moment for Reg to relax in the chair and nod along.

“Just more mature.” Reg chuckled. “If you want good advice, you should meet Felix. He’s got a few years on us. Guess that makes him a sage or something.” God, he missed Felix so damn much and it’d only been a few hours. “I’ll owl you, yeah? About the piece. We can knock out some of the details, and I promise I’ll get you some much needed good press.”

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