Oliver Kent's head was pounding. He lay spread-eagle on the mattress, under covers at least, but still fully dressed, with no recollection of how he got from the Three Broomsticks back to his room at the inn. The last thing he remembered was the pink-haired girl sitting at the table with Hagrid and a blur of her swooning over the wizarding grunge band's lead singer. Even that was terribly blurry in his mind.

"Ohhhh gods," he whispered, shifting slightly only to find his legs were weighted down by something warm and heavy. Weakly, he lifted his head and jolted in surprise.

The shaggy black dog that had followed him through the square was laying across the foot of the bed, curled up as though it belonged there, nose tucked under the end of his tail. Oliver stared at it warily, then moved his foot tentatively, nudging it in the shoulder.

The dog uncurled and looked up at him with grey eyes that seemed almost familiar in some way that Oliver couldn't place.

They stared at one another for several long seconds, then the dog's mouth broke into what could only be called a grin, his tongue lolling out of his mouth with a woof that felt like a nail to the head and Oliver groaned and fell backward into the pillows. "Oh gods," he repeated, groaning and closing his eyes.

The mattress shifted a bit as the dog stood up and wagged his shaggy tail as he walked closer and nudged Oliver's hand with his nose.

Oliver opened his eyes again just a crack to stare at the dog. "Look," he said, "I don't know why you think you like me, or how you got up here, even, but you're a right mess and I've got a headache and very little patience for anything right now - but most especially not for a flea-covered mutt like you."

The dog tilted his head.

"I'm not a dog person at all, you know. I never have been and never will be."

The dog whimpered.

"Sorry," Oliver muttered, "But it's true. And you weren't exactly invited up here, not by me anyway, so don't you go acting like I've offended you. You're the offending party, after all, coming in where you're not wanted."

The dog rubbed his muzzle with his paw as if to hide his eyes.

Oliver sighed and looked around, then spotted a tea cup the size of a bowl on the nightstand, filled with water, and he rolled over and grabbed onto it. The cup was heavy with a brow pattern of hares and other small woodland animals all over it. He'd never seen anything that looked more like Hagrid in all of his life. "Small children could bathe in this cup," he muttered as he lifted it up and drank deeply. Despite how big it was, he still managed to drain the full cup. He hadn't realized how thirsty he was until he'd started drinking and he let out a gasp of relief as he lowered the cup back to the nightstand with both hands.

There was a banging on the door then and the dog leaped from the bed and started barking with glee, spinning as though to chase after his own tail, his tongue hanging out as he jumped up and down and ran to the door and halfway back to the bed where Oliver groaned and covered his face with his hands, "You really are a noisy son of a bitch aren't you?" he asked. The dog kept barking and the door kept being knocked on, so Oliver swore and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He could feel his head throbbing all the way to his toes.

How bloody much did I drink? he wondered.

He wrenched opened the door - the dog jumping and wagging excitedly still right beside him. "Will you please shut the hell up?" he demanded of the dog, then looked up to find Declan Alectric standing on the other side of the door, holding a tray with two steaming mugs of coffee and a plate of proper English breakfast.

The dog dropped to it's four legs, stopping jumping rather suddenly, and the barking ceased.

At least the dog knows how to shut up when it's told to, Oliver thought.

The dog stared at Declan Alectric with his head tilted.

"Goooooood morning Vietnam," Declan said, smirking at Oliver's messy hair, which stuck up on one side. An imprint from the pillowcase was pressed into his cheek, too.

Oliver groaned at the cheerfulness and volume of Declan's voice and stepped back into the room, leaving the door flung wide for his friend to enter. "Leave the door open, maybe the dog will escape," he said.

Declan laughed, glanced at the dog, then back to Oliver as he stepped inside and closed the door behind him - with a bang that made Oliver wince. "Did you drink the entire pub or is there still some left for the rest of us?"

Oliver made a rude gesture in Declan's direction.

Declan smirked, then looked down at the dog, who sat on the floor staring up at him with a very curious expression on his face. Declan stared at the dog right back. "So... what is this... very manky looking dog here for anyway?" Declan asked.

"I have no idea," Oliver said. "It followed me around Hogsmeade yesterday, then I suppose Hagrid let it in last night when he saw me home from the pub, I don't know, I was very drunk, last thing I recall is the Expelliarmens or whatever the fuck their names were --"

"Oooh! Were they playing the pub last night? LOVE THEM," Declan said, grinning. He was still in an eye lock with the dog, though.

Oliver shrugged, "If you like that sort of music, I s'pose they were alright."

Declan finally broke away from the stare-down with the dog, stepping 'round Oliver and over to the little table by the window. "I've brought you breaky," he said, "You might've noticed."

"I'm not very hungry."

"You're hung over, of course you're hungry." Declan balanced the tray with one hand and waved his wand with the other, clearing a box of practice snitches and a couple pairs of Quidditch gloves from the table top, then flicked it the other way and the loads of clothes that were chuckled over the back of the chair removed themselves to a hamper in the corner. "C'mon over here and eat. You'll feel better if you eat," he added, setting himself down in one chair and putting the tray down in the middle.

Oliver sighed and walked over, sitting down opposite as Declan crossed his legs at the knee, took one of the steaming mugs of coffee and twiddled his elevated ankle, the shiny brown wingtips on display. He wore very smart reportery-looking clothes, including brown slacks and a pair of black suspenders over a black shirt and a blue tie that almost perfectly matched his hair. He sipped his coffee and stared at Oliver over the edge of the cup as Oliver started picking at the breakfast.

The dog trotted over, still staring at Declan as though he were an enigma which needed figuring out.

Declan reached over as Oliver ate the beans and plucked one of the five fat sausages on the platter. "Purposely brought this one extra just for you, buddy," Declan murmured, breaking the sausage in half.

"How? You didn't know there was a dog here," Oliver said around mouthfuls.

"The dog doesn't know that," Declan said, rolling his eyes at Oliver, then he turned back to the dog. "Are sausages your favorite? Yes they are, aren't they, you furry bag of fleas. Yes they are." He dropped the bit of sausage to the dog, grinning.

Oliver raised an eyebrow, taking a bite of one of the other sausages himself. "I never knew you were a dog person. Or a morning person for that matter."

"It's easy to be a morning person when it's the afternoon," Declan answered. "And as for being a dog person, you could say it's in my blood." He dusted off his hands, having given the remainder of the sausage to the dog, and turned back to Oliver.

Oliver paused his eating and looked up at Declan, then down at the breakfast, and back up at his friend. "So what made you bring this to me anyways? I thought you were mad at me?" he asked.

"Oh I am - quite mad at you," Declan answered. "But I am a forgiving soul." He made a face like he was some sort of saint. He paused. Then, "I thought we gave up drinking?"

"I have."

"I see, so last night was... what exactly?"

Oliver focused on his food. "A mistake."

"Uh huh." Declan looked around. "So it's just you and the dog here, 'ey? Where did you say Waldorf is?"

"Wally is taking care of things at home with Geri and Olivia. You know how it is with things like that..."

Declan chuckled, "Well, no, I don't know - I've never left my husband, married a woman, named a child after my ex, kissed him very publicly at only the biggest event of the year in front of only the most wretched gossip in the wizarding world, then waffled between my ex and my wife, dragging my ex like some sort of bad habit I can't quite quit and don't really want to while trying to decide if I'm divorcing my wife or not." He said all this in one long winded gasp of air, paused, then said, "But I'm sure that's quite a common predicament. I shall take notes for when it one day happens to me!"

"Have you always been such a sarcastic asshole?" Oliver asked.

"Always, dear," Declan said and he made a kissy noise to the air.

"And he isn't jerking me around," Oliver said defensively. He looked at the dog, then down at the tomato on his plate. "Do you like tomatoes, dog?" he asked, and pushed the offending slice from the plate onto the floor with a squelchy plop. The dog slurped it up happily.

Declan snorted, "He IS jerking you around, rather, just like in school."

Oliver frowned, "It's different."

"How?" Declan demanded.

"It is," Oliver said.

"How?" Declan pressed.

"It just is!" Oliver said.

The dog's head bounced from Oliver to Declan and back, as though listening and understanding the conversation.

Declan shook his head. "You have no idea how much better he should be treating you."

Oliver looked up at Declan.

Declan waved his palm as he talked, "I mean - seriously - you --"

"Wait." Oliver reached across the table and grabbed hold of Declan's wrist, stopping the motion. He turned it, looking at the ancient watch on his wrist. "Is that accurate?!"

Declan glanced at the watch. "What? Oh. Yeah? I think. Yes."

"I have to go," Oliver said, jumping up. "I have to meet Cedric Diggory... Shit, I'm late." He grabbed the box of practice snitches and the gloves, then swung around and pulled his broomstick from where it leaned against the wall. "Hey kick the dog out when you leave, will you? Or take it with you if you want it? Whatever." And he ducked out the door.

Declan stared at the door as it slammed shut.

"Well isn't that just about right?" Declan rolled his eyes. He looked at the dog. The dog looked at him, head tilted, sniffing the air.

The door banged back open and Oliver ran back in, grabbed a pair of trainers from the floor and waved them manically, laughing, "Can't forget these!" Oliver said, and he rushed back out.

Declan sighed and stood up. He vanished the tray, plates, and cups. He headed for the door then and glanced back at the dog, who still sat by the table. Declan adjusted his tie as he was lingering by the door. "You enjoy your alone time, then," and he left, trotting downstairs. He paused at the bottom of the steps, and turned to the front desk. He tapped the bell.

"Yes?" The wizard behind the desk asked, looking up from the Daily Prophet, whose pages Harry Potter stared up at Declan with a perplexed expression on his face.

"I'd like to place a room service order for later."

The clerk got a quill and parchment.

"Bring 'round the roast and carrots, extra gravy, and a couple rolls to Room Three about half one? And just knock and leave it by the door."

"You got it," the clerk murmured.

"Thanks," Declan said. He paused, "Maybe throw in a couple bottles of butterbeer, too." He pushed two galleons across the counter.