Michael/Anthony/Terry - Auld Lang Syne - PG
Author: karasu
Title: Auld Lang Syne
Rating: PG
Character(s): Michael Corner, Anthony Goldstein, and Terry Boot
Prompt: New Year's Eve
Word Count: 1,105
Notes: Second years Michael, Anthony, and Terry discuss the future on New Year's Eve.
"Do you think they'll shut it down?" twelve-year-old Terry Boot asked his best friends as they sat by the fire in the study of his Hull home.
"I don't know, but with all these students attacked, Mum doesn't even want me to go back," Anthony replied, nursing a mug of hot cocoa. Terry's mother had slipped a bit of liquor into the cups. She said it was a tradition, but Terry thought she was just trying to impress Michael and Anthony. He didn't mind. He couldn't even tell the difference, though Michael was looking a little hazy eyed.
"My mum says it'll be fine," Michael replied, holding his cup up just below his mouth. "Though I reckon it was pretty scary when Potter started talking to that snake, and then Finch-Fletchley is found petrified...?"
"You don't really suspect Harry Potter of all people, do you, Michael?" Anthony asked.
Michael cast a glance at Terry and shrugged uneasily. "I wouldn't think it was him, but it certainly seems suspicious, doesn't it?"
Terry shivered a little and took a healthy drink from his mug. He could taste the bitter aftertaste of alcohol. "Don't talk about it too loudly," he muttered. "Mum doesn't know much, and if she knew they were targeting..."
"Yeah," Michael muttered, lowering his eyes. "Sorry, mate."
"Don't worry," Anthony said, putting his mug down on the floor to reach out and clap both of his friends on the shoulder and knee. "We'll watch out for you, Terry. We always have, haven't we?"
Terry smirked. "Well, you've tried at least. Didn't Warrington shove Michael into that second floor closet just two weeks ago?"
Anthony chuckled. "Yeah, he did, didn't he?"
Michael scowled at them. "I was trying to help."
"You should have just let him kick my books around. He would have left me alone after that."
"Instead, we had to rescue you," Anthony added.
Michael shook his head, heavy, dark curls falling over his face, though there was the faintest hint of a wry grin as he took another sip of cocoa. "Well, next time, I'll get him."
"What, are you going to ambush him? He's like four of you."
"It's probably him that's doing all this," Michael muttered.
Terry laughed, mouth quirky a little. "Do you expect he's clever enough?"
"Good point."
Anthony picked his drink up again and scooted closer to the hearth, Terry drew his legs up a little closer from his seat on the couch, and Michael swayed a little, eyes looking heavy lidded. No one spoke for a moment, puzzling over the events of the last term: the attacks, the weird writing on the wall, and the disaster of the Duelling Club.
"I don't think I've ever seen so much blood," Anthony finally said.
"What?" Michael asked.
"The Duelling Club," Terry supplied with a grumble. "I can't help it. Bloody Theodore Nott broke my nose!"
"Pomfrey did a good job of patching it up, though," Michael replied, peering at Terry, though looking a little cross-eyed.
"Yeah, it's only a little crooked," Anthony joked.
Terry kicked out at him, but couldn't quite reach. Anthony snickered as he held up one hand in defence. "You're lucky, because you got to be paired with Michael, and no one's as bad at hexing as him."
"Hey!" Michael said, lifting his head to jut out his lower lip. "I can hex just fine if I want to."
"Is that why you looked like you had an afro when we went back to the dorm? Oh, and were also laughing hysterically?"
"I didn't want to go all out on you," Michael replied, crossing his arms and sloshing his cocoa a little.
"Right," Terry muttered over the rim of his drink.
"Well, in any case, I think we should make a pact," Michael said, placing his cup down. Terry raised an eyebrow, lowering his legs a little. Anthony didn't move from his place by the fire, though he did quirk a heavy eyebrow, as well. "Since the school will most likely be shut down any day..."
"That's optimistic," quipped Terry.
"As I was saying, as it's likely to be shut down at any time, we ought to make a pact so that we don't get separated."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, if the school closes, we'll have to all promise to go to the same school following Hogwarts," Michael replied with a nod, apparently agreeing with himself.
"And how do you expect we'll manage that?" Anthony asked, brow crinkling in amused doubt.
"Well, we'll all move in together. I say at Anthony's, because London is better than Pevensey and Hull."
Anthony rolled his eyes. "Should I even bother offering an invitation?"
Terry smiled faintly, trying to hide it in his mug. His cocoa was nearly gone. He could smell the acrid powder at the bottom of the mug that hadn't been mixed in quite right. "I think that's a good idea."
"See," Michael said, sitting up a little and puffing out his chest, "Terry agrees."
Anthony shook his head. "Fine, but if we do, we're moving in with you."
Terry reached into his robes to fumble around as his friends bickered amicably. The clock on the mantle was nearing twelve. The seconds were ticking away until the moment the alarm would chime and bring in a new year. He found the crackers he'd been searching for and tossed them at his friends. His aim was rather bad, and so both rolled onto the floor feet away from the intended targets.
"Is it time?" Anthony asked.
"Thirty seconds," Terry replied.
The boys put their mugs aside and took the crackers, ready to pull them apart and spark the minor explosion. Terry's eyes remained on the clock as the slim hand ticked out the last few seconds, summoning the deep gong of the chime.
"Happy New Year!" said Michael, tearing his open. It exploded with a bang that was followed by two others. In the aftermath, only Michael's brows were singed.
"Got a bit of coal on your cheek," Anthony said, brushing off his hands.
Michael rubbed at his cheek with the back of his hand.
Terry picked up his mug. "Well, here's to another year of the Three Musketeers."
Anthony lifted his mug, clanking it against Terry's and then Michael's, the owner of which breaking into a rousing rendition of Auld Lang Syne.
"I think Mutti gave him a bit much," Terry muttered.
Anthony just grinned. "And we'll tak a right gude willie waught," he said, drinking down the rest of his mug and following Michael's warbling.
Terry shook his head and smiled. "For auld lang syne."
1/20
Title: Auld Lang Syne
Rating: PG
Character(s): Michael Corner, Anthony Goldstein, and Terry Boot
Prompt: New Year's Eve
Word Count: 1,105
Notes: Second years Michael, Anthony, and Terry discuss the future on New Year's Eve.
"Do you think they'll shut it down?" twelve-year-old Terry Boot asked his best friends as they sat by the fire in the study of his Hull home.
"I don't know, but with all these students attacked, Mum doesn't even want me to go back," Anthony replied, nursing a mug of hot cocoa. Terry's mother had slipped a bit of liquor into the cups. She said it was a tradition, but Terry thought she was just trying to impress Michael and Anthony. He didn't mind. He couldn't even tell the difference, though Michael was looking a little hazy eyed.
"My mum says it'll be fine," Michael replied, holding his cup up just below his mouth. "Though I reckon it was pretty scary when Potter started talking to that snake, and then Finch-Fletchley is found petrified...?"
"You don't really suspect Harry Potter of all people, do you, Michael?" Anthony asked.
Michael cast a glance at Terry and shrugged uneasily. "I wouldn't think it was him, but it certainly seems suspicious, doesn't it?"
Terry shivered a little and took a healthy drink from his mug. He could taste the bitter aftertaste of alcohol. "Don't talk about it too loudly," he muttered. "Mum doesn't know much, and if she knew they were targeting..."
"Yeah," Michael muttered, lowering his eyes. "Sorry, mate."
"Don't worry," Anthony said, putting his mug down on the floor to reach out and clap both of his friends on the shoulder and knee. "We'll watch out for you, Terry. We always have, haven't we?"
Terry smirked. "Well, you've tried at least. Didn't Warrington shove Michael into that second floor closet just two weeks ago?"
Anthony chuckled. "Yeah, he did, didn't he?"
Michael scowled at them. "I was trying to help."
"You should have just let him kick my books around. He would have left me alone after that."
"Instead, we had to rescue you," Anthony added.
Michael shook his head, heavy, dark curls falling over his face, though there was the faintest hint of a wry grin as he took another sip of cocoa. "Well, next time, I'll get him."
"What, are you going to ambush him? He's like four of you."
"It's probably him that's doing all this," Michael muttered.
Terry laughed, mouth quirky a little. "Do you expect he's clever enough?"
"Good point."
Anthony picked his drink up again and scooted closer to the hearth, Terry drew his legs up a little closer from his seat on the couch, and Michael swayed a little, eyes looking heavy lidded. No one spoke for a moment, puzzling over the events of the last term: the attacks, the weird writing on the wall, and the disaster of the Duelling Club.
"I don't think I've ever seen so much blood," Anthony finally said.
"What?" Michael asked.
"The Duelling Club," Terry supplied with a grumble. "I can't help it. Bloody Theodore Nott broke my nose!"
"Pomfrey did a good job of patching it up, though," Michael replied, peering at Terry, though looking a little cross-eyed.
"Yeah, it's only a little crooked," Anthony joked.
Terry kicked out at him, but couldn't quite reach. Anthony snickered as he held up one hand in defence. "You're lucky, because you got to be paired with Michael, and no one's as bad at hexing as him."
"Hey!" Michael said, lifting his head to jut out his lower lip. "I can hex just fine if I want to."
"Is that why you looked like you had an afro when we went back to the dorm? Oh, and were also laughing hysterically?"
"I didn't want to go all out on you," Michael replied, crossing his arms and sloshing his cocoa a little.
"Right," Terry muttered over the rim of his drink.
"Well, in any case, I think we should make a pact," Michael said, placing his cup down. Terry raised an eyebrow, lowering his legs a little. Anthony didn't move from his place by the fire, though he did quirk a heavy eyebrow, as well. "Since the school will most likely be shut down any day..."
"That's optimistic," quipped Terry.
"As I was saying, as it's likely to be shut down at any time, we ought to make a pact so that we don't get separated."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, if the school closes, we'll have to all promise to go to the same school following Hogwarts," Michael replied with a nod, apparently agreeing with himself.
"And how do you expect we'll manage that?" Anthony asked, brow crinkling in amused doubt.
"Well, we'll all move in together. I say at Anthony's, because London is better than Pevensey and Hull."
Anthony rolled his eyes. "Should I even bother offering an invitation?"
Terry smiled faintly, trying to hide it in his mug. His cocoa was nearly gone. He could smell the acrid powder at the bottom of the mug that hadn't been mixed in quite right. "I think that's a good idea."
"See," Michael said, sitting up a little and puffing out his chest, "Terry agrees."
Anthony shook his head. "Fine, but if we do, we're moving in with you."
Terry reached into his robes to fumble around as his friends bickered amicably. The clock on the mantle was nearing twelve. The seconds were ticking away until the moment the alarm would chime and bring in a new year. He found the crackers he'd been searching for and tossed them at his friends. His aim was rather bad, and so both rolled onto the floor feet away from the intended targets.
"Is it time?" Anthony asked.
"Thirty seconds," Terry replied.
The boys put their mugs aside and took the crackers, ready to pull them apart and spark the minor explosion. Terry's eyes remained on the clock as the slim hand ticked out the last few seconds, summoning the deep gong of the chime.
"Happy New Year!" said Michael, tearing his open. It exploded with a bang that was followed by two others. In the aftermath, only Michael's brows were singed.
"Got a bit of coal on your cheek," Anthony said, brushing off his hands.
Michael rubbed at his cheek with the back of his hand.
Terry picked up his mug. "Well, here's to another year of the Three Musketeers."
Anthony lifted his mug, clanking it against Terry's and then Michael's, the owner of which breaking into a rousing rendition of Auld Lang Syne.
"I think Mutti gave him a bit much," Terry muttered.
Anthony just grinned. "And we'll tak a right gude willie waught," he said, drinking down the rest of his mug and following Michael's warbling.
Terry shook his head and smiled. "For auld lang syne."
1/20