is there a remedy for stupidity?

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Iris had, as was tradition, spent her weekend engaging in various shenanigans with Charlotte, though her friend hadn’t been as absolutely smashed as Iris had been, and so she had left early to get some breakfast and go back to her own flat. That left Ris to bury herself under the covers, cursing the fact that her curtains didn’t block out every speck of sunlight. She should just charm her flat so she didn’t have windows on the weekend. That sounded like a good idea. She would do that when it didn’t feel like her head was going to split in two. At least Charlotte or someone had had the decency to feed Sir Whiskers because he wasn’t on her stomach yowling into her face that he was hungry. If he had been, she might have been sobbing and pleading with him to go away and munch on some of her socks or eat his stupid dry food because she bought it for him to eat, not to stare at. At least nobody was doing any sort of construction in her area. She might have gone dark side and absolutely nutters if she’d had to put up with it on this caliber of hangover. Her stomach was growling like an angry lion or possibly a bear but she couldn’t find it in herself to get out of her bed and drag herself to the kitchen to cook up one of the many hangover remedies she’d been developing ever since she made it to drinking age. She remembered when she had been a little naive and tried the methods that her coworkers jokingly gave her and how horrible they had been. A greasy sandwich? Really? Merlin only knew why she had thought to try it. Well, she knew as well. She had been desperate and had grasped on it and it had ended badly. As in, she’d been sick for about two or three days. She pulled a pillow over her head and groaned when she heard a knock on the door, hoping that maybe if she didn’t answer, the person knocking would go away. If it was one of her friends though, she doubted they would give up so easily. They knew what she spent her weekends doing and that the mornings involved a similar routine to this. She had been cutting back, though. Not as much as she should have been, but little by little she had been managing how drunk she let herself get ever since reconnecting with Oliver. She liked to write to him or spend time with him and she couldn’t bloody well do that when she was in bed cursing her existence. Not to mention the epic defeat he would give her if she ever tried to play Quidditch in this state. The knocking continued, which let her know that the person at her door was not going to leave her alone until she answered it and all she wanted to do was make the noise stop. So she wrapped her duvet around herself and pulled herself out of bed, briefly checking her appearance in the mirror. Wow, was that a banshee she saw, or just her reflection? Cursing, she used her wand to fix the make-up smears and her hair but she couldn’t be bothered to think past her headache for the other spells to make her prettier. Her guest would have to make do with this until she felt better. That decided, she stumbled through the place to the front door and pulled it open, wincing when the sun hit her eyes. “I wasn’t expecting you today,” Iris managed, squinting at the Oliver on her doorstep. She shuffled back to let him come in.

OLLIE | 625 | tadaaaaaa

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Oliver found he enjoyed the weekends to have as a little leisure time more than he would have expected. In former times, when still playing with Pride of Portree, the weekends of course had been filled with last minute practice and Quidditch games, so he had hardly had a minute for himself – which he had not missed back then since he had had no life outside of Quidditch. His Hogwarts schedule gave him a little more freedom, and ever since he had decided to be more social and renew old contacts of make new one, he had found that weekends actually could be fun. Of course, there was this odd little job here and there to do, like filling up the stocks of the Quidditch equipment – you’d be surprised at how many things could get lost in a castle such as Hogwarts or be be broken by students – or just generally doing things for his work. London therefore was a welcome place to go, since it combined getting the stuff you needed with meeting people.

If he was honest, he knew very well why he liked to spend time in London these days. Ever since he had met with Iris Wolfe again, she had made a lasting impression on his mind. He just liked to spend time with her, she certainly knew how to tease out the social side in him, and unlike some others, she was not looking down on him for the choice he had made. She was amiable company for sure, and paying her a surprise visit was not the worst idea Oliver could have thought up on a lovely Saturday forenoon such as this. Who knew, maybe he could convince her to do a race with him again, or they would just catch a coffee or some ice cream at Florean’s and talk a little more about old times and new… it wasn’t as hard to converse with her as it could be with others, for which he was thankful. Around her, he had started to feel like a real human being, not just a Quidditch Inferi, or… what was that muggle word his uncle had used:… robot? A thing made of metal that could look like a human being but was not? Mysteries…

With a slight smile on his face, he raised his hand to knock at her door, trying to imagine how she would face him right now. Maybe she had been sitting on her sofa, reading some book or the other, hair still in a sligjtly messy bun with her cat, Mr. Whiskers, purring on her lap… she would probably sip some tea, and cock her head or crinkle her nose at some passage she found funny or idiotic, making a mental note to tell someone about it later…
But at first, no one answered, which made him wonder. It wasn’t like Iris to be out and about on a Saturday before noon, now was it? Of course, she needn’t tell him where she went or what she did, he had no claim on any of that, but he still thought she might have mentioned something… or was she still asleep?!

Apparently so, for he could hear shuffling steps behind the door, and a moment later a certain Iris was blinking at him through barely opened eyes, clearly still more asleep than awake, and looking like her night had been filled rather with drinking and dancing than with actual sleeping. Oh dear… shouldn’t he rather…?
“Um… I can come back some other time, if it’s not convenient, you know”, he murmured, but when she stood back to let him in, he gave a shrug and followed, trying not to look so closely at her attire. “What have you been up to, eh? Danced the night away? Iris Wolfe… the party animal, I see how it is!”

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“No, it’s fine, come in,” Iris muttered and shuffled about her flat, closing the door behind him and taking his coat to hang it on her coat hook. At least the place was relatively clean, although in this state of mind she probably wouldn’t give a damn either way. “Just... shh. Stop with the talking thing.” As much as she adored his accent, right now it felt like a gnome was running about her head and smacking the important bits with a very large iron hammer. She wanted to collapse back into bed for a few more hours but Oliver was here and she liked his company too much to send him away. Besides, he had come such a long way to London and she didn’t know if he’d traveled from Hogwarts specifically to see her or not. It would be rude of her to close the door in his face. “Do you want any tea?” She asked as she made her way to the kitchen to make herself a pot and set on some eggs and bacon. “No, don’t answer that. I specifically remember saying no talking... I’ll just get you a mug anyway.” She ignored the fact that she was wandering around in her pyjamas and a blanket wrapped around her shoulders looking absolutely ridiculous as she made breakfast and put some tea on the stove. While she was up and moving, she took some motrin out of her cabinet and downed it with the last of the orange juice in her fridge. She didn’t usually take muggle medicine unless she could help it now that she was a witch, but sometimes it was the only thing that helped a hangover and she thought that maybe Oliver would like to talk at some point during the course of the day, or that maybe he would want her to get dressed and do something involving their broomsticks and a quaffle. Now that she thought about it, eggs and bacon sounded vomit-worthy on her poor stomach so Iris settled with making some toast with butter and took the kettle off the stove before it started with its high-pitched screaming, pouring a mug of tea for both of them. “Now. I’m going back to bed. You can stay here and drink your tea, or you can join me and I will allow you to whisper,” she informed her friend quite sagely and, flipping her blanket like a cape, she took her tea and toast to her bedroom.

OLLIE | 426 | somehow this reply is really short??

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Oliver had never been one for excessive partying, and as such had only the hint of an inkling as to how Iris must feel right now. His focussed sportsman attitude had kept him from such shenanigans ever since he could remember, and he didn’t feel like having missed something – especially not this kind of ‘morning after’ feeling that must be exceptionally dreadful. He wasn’t the type to judge however and even held some of these incidents in fond memory, as the very such behaviour of his colleague had enabled him to play in the British Premier League of Quidditch with Pride of Portree. And he couldn’t think much ill of Iris anyway, even if he were one to frow on such a lifestyle, she just looked too adorable all disshevelled and grumpy. What was this phrase his little niece often sprouted when she witnessed one of her elder cousins the morning after a clan meeting? ‘You look like Garfield on a Monday’? One day he would have to ask her who this Garfield was…

She apparently did not want him to talk, and so all he did was grin as he followed her inside, wondering what on earth he should do now, if she on one hand did not dismiss his company, but on the other wanted him to be naught but a shadow. He wasn’t the one to follow people around like a puppy or something, and he was still new to all these kinds of things what friends might to together, else he felt quite ill at ease. And anyway… he wasn’t sure so much whether what he felt for Iris was precisely nothing but friendship – but as he didn’t have many other friendships with girls to compare it to, Oliver was lost. The best thing was probably not to think too much about it and just let things proceed like they would.

He had a right mind to ask what she was taking there, as it looked like some strange muggle pill, but he restrained himself, remembering her request for silence. It wasn’t that important anyway, now was it? She would know what to do, and he was the last to look down on muggle achievements. Sometimes they could work wonders without the aid of magic.
When she however told him he could either sip his tea alone or come with her to her bedroom, Oliver found himself to be quite dumbstruck, and completely at a loss how to react to it. Was she joking? Apparently not, by the way she led the way into her bedroom. Iris Wolfe was serious… she really intended to go back to bed!

“Um… since I came here to talk a bit… I guess I take that offer”, he replied with a hesitant smile, careful to keep his voice low for her sake. She certainly could be a little diva when in this state, but he was not at all taken aback. As long as she didn’t attack him like a harpy, which he seriously doubted, he was sure he could take a great deal from her. Therefore, he followed her into her bedroom, all the while keeping one eye out for her cat, Mr. Whiskers, since he did not want to trip ove the furball by accident.