Twinsensibility Part Thirty Nine

[dysonrules]

Wow, only took nineteen tries to get this to post properly today. THE HELL?

Lorcan idly flipped a page of his book and glanced up when Lysander walked into the Ravenclaw common room, although walked was an optimistic description when compared to how his brother actually moved. Staggered would be more accurate.

“Loran!” Lysander cried happily and waved. He made a meandering journey across the room only to sprawl across Lorcan’s lap, knocking his book to the floor and clinging to his neck like a barnacle. The overwhelming odour of alcohol assaulted Lorcan, who jerked his face away from Lysander’s attempt at a kiss.

“Merlin, what have you been doing?”

Lysander settled for mauling Lorcan’s neck with his lips. “Dec’rating.”

“Decorating? Really? Decorating the inside of a wine vat?”

Lysander chuckled, as though the very idea was hilarious. “No, silly. Decorating the Charms classroom. For Christmas. Flitwick wants it to look pretty, b’cause his fiancée is visiting for the holidays.”

“That’s nice,” Lorcan said, vaguely recalling Lysander prattling on about such nonsense before traipsing off with a group of girls from assorted houses. “It does not, however, explain the drinking.”

“Drinking!” Lysander crowed loudly, nearly deafening Lorcan on one side.

“Lysander, please,” Lorcan admonished, trying to detach his brother to minimize potential ear damage. Lysander clung more tightly.

“No.” His voice was petulant. “Drinking was good. Flitwick had some sort of tea. No, not tea. Um… punch! Yes, thassit. Punch.”

“Flitwick had punch,” Lorcan repeated.

“Yes, and Lily brought something tasty for the punch.”

Lily Potter. That explained much. The little cow had obviously spiked the punch, and probably fed Lysander cup after cup until he was staggering. Lorcan sighed.

Lysander pulled back and pouted at him. “Don’t be sighey. I told you to come. It’s your fault that you missed it. We sang carols and everything!”

“Oh my, imagine my distress at missing that,” Lorcan said dryly.

Lysander picked up on the sarcasm even in his inebriated state. “Lorcan. You are no fun.”

Lorcan bent his head to nuzzle his brother’s neck, holding him tightly. “Oh, really? That’s not what you said last night. In fact, at times I can be very fun, indeed.”

Lysander practically melted into him with a purring sound. His hands began to roam, causing Lorcan to grab and hold them before the other, less drunken, denizens of the common room noticed. He shoved his brother off his lap, but caught him before he toppled over completely. “Come on; let’s get you off to bed.”

As he hauled a clingy Lysander up the stairs to their room, Lorcan remembered the only reason he tolerated the holidays.

“I love Christmas,” Lysander said dreamily and flicked his tongue out to touch Lorcan’s neck.

“I know, Lys. I know,” Lorcan replied with a smile.