The Leaky Cauldron was filled to the roof with people. It was as loud, joyful and inebriated as always. Galaad, on the other hand, would have surprised many of his friends by his attitude. Sitting alone in rather quiet pub's corner, he was watching his half emptied pint with a miserable look on his face. A gloomy sigh escaped his lips as he cleared the remaining beer in a single gulp.
He had hoped that getting a job or spending some time with his friends would have filled that void the Easter attack had created. And in a way, it had worked. But more as a distraction than as a real solution. Because as soon as his time at the Tsarducks was over, as soon as his friends were unavailable, Galaad felt lonelier, emptier than ever. And so was he there, tonight, all alone at the Leaky Cauldron, finishing his third drink of the night. A drink that would definitely not be the last, before he'd stagger back home to sleep a heavy, intoxicated sleep.

But before he knew it, someone had crashed into the couch facing him. And not any someone. Shannon O'Mahony. The sight of his irish mate managed to get a smile on Galaad's face, but his eyes remained as empty as his glass.
- I'm as good as I could be without a beer, he joked. His adventures with Shannon were rarely alcohol-free. They also seemed so long ago that they could have belonged to another life.
- It's good to see you here, he added in a low voice. He wasn't being polite. On the contrary, he couldn't have been more truthful. He had learnt about Shannon being severly injured during the Easter incident. But he hadn't find the courage in himself to visit him in Saint Mungo's. The sight of his friend lying in an hospital bed would have been to hard to endure, and Galaad was too much of a coward. The relief in his tone wasn't just because he was glad to see Shannon on his feet, though. His arrival also meant he wasn't alone with his thoughts anymore.
- So ... how have you been ? he asked, not wanting to confront the elephant in the room, but unable to avoid it completely.

They both ordered a drink, Galaad pondering whether or not he should go for something spicier than  a beer. In the end, he followed his mate's lead and asked for a pint of Guinness. That one beverage had the perk of being just slightly stronger than the usual Butterbeer, so he could keep up with the conversation. As Shannon replied his question, he recognized in his eyes the same shadow that clouded his own nights. His new found job had at least teached him to read the others, rather than focusing on his personal issues. And the dark circles under his friend's eyes were pretty eloquent - as did they mirror the ones Galaad himself was wearing.
- I know the feel dude, St Mungo's really has a way of making you feel like you're about to die, even once you're cured, he replied with a sigh, choosing to ignore Shannon's discomfort and deflecting it with his usual humour.

Galaad grabbed his beer and took a long sip. He was about to answer Shannon with another joke about his eyes injury, but the words died in his mouth. He could still feel the blood dripping on his cheeks, the screams around him made only stronger by the dark his wounds had dropped him into. A chill ran throught his back. This simple memory had been enough to make his palms sweaty. He wasn't feeling like joking anymore, so he shrouded, forced a stupid smile.
- I'm still breathing, y'know. And he was pretty lucky he could say that - many were not, on that Easter day. I feel like nowhere in the world is safe anymore, he added, much lower, his voice barely audible over the Leaky Cauldron's jabbering.
No wonder why he needed to drink, simply to survive throught another day. Some pills helped, too. Sometimes, he wondered how his friends could bear his way of living - it wasn't all rainbows and flowers before, still it had clearly deteriorated since the attack. But he usually shoved these questions away with a new pint. It would get better, with time. It had to.
- Ah, don't mind me, I'm just being my pathetic me, he bounced back, an empty smile finding the path to his face once again. He blinked really fast, but there were no tears in his eyes, right ? Quick, another sip to drive out the echoes of the Easter screams of terror and pain.

They sure were lucky to be alive. But when he should have found comfort in this thought, it just made Galaad feel worse than ever. He couldn't close his eyes without hearing the screams from the wounded all around him. And then the cries of those who had lost a loved one. Those were maybe the worse. Galaad and his futile way of life were not ready to endure that much grief. The only way to shut them up was to get to sleep as intoxicated as possible - and yet it didn't stop him from waking up in a sweat once in a while, with his hands reaching for his eyes. Of course, never had he spoken about it to anyone - the only exception may have been Aethelwold, but his memories about that night were quite blurry.
- Pretty sure I'm guiltier than happy about it, he admitted nonetheless in a mumble.

Shannon was the first person in a while he felt could understand him. He had its responsibility in this situation, though. Because Galaad was way too cowardly to try and reach for the help he needed - coming from his friends as well as professionals. The time he had spent without even visiting his old irish mate was quite representative of that matter.
- I hoped my job would drive the memories away, but it's just ... a job, y'know. Doesn't work miracles.
Especially when it all consisted in serving drinks all day long, wishing you could sip them all off. He wasn't really unhappy. How could he be ? He was alive, not like many other witches and wizards that day. Feeling bad only added to his guilt. Who was he to complain about his trauma, when folks were now rotting in a grave ?

A laugh coming from a group of people nearby made him jump, and he almost spilled his beer all over their table. Damn, life really went on. How come he couldn't just jump on that train like he used to ? He blushed a little as he almost emptied his drink - at least it would stop him from knocking over the precious beverage.
- How do you ... he started, but the words had a hard time coming thought his lips. He sighed. How do you keep living like you used to ? How are you not scared every time you go to sleep, or step out of your place ?
Maybe Shannon wasn't quite te right person to ask. He clearly was as traumatised as Galaad. But it already had been quite the challenge to get to say these words aloud. He would never have been able to speak them to another one. With an awkward grin, he raised his eyes from his pint to his friend, hoping for an answer. Any answer would do.

Listening to Shannon's feels about the attack made Galaad find a bit of confort, if not of peace. As he heard his friend talk about his own emptiness, he felt a warm wave invading his chest - and perhaps it had nothing to do with all the beer he had just drunk. It changed nothing to how alone he felt. It was simply nice to realise you weren't the only one trying to learn how to live with something you knew you would never forget. It was all terribly selfish, in a way.
- If it's pills you need, I know the right persons to get some from, he stated lightly.
Galaad was the sort of friend that would have helped you write your suicidal note if you asked him politely enough. Or maybe was he just in too deep to realize all the wrong he could make. Althought it wasn't like any pills had helped him so far - and he had tried many.

Galaad's jaws clenched when Shannon asked him if he ever got back in the Alley. The fragile comfort he could have felt had just shattered like glass. Of course he hadn't set a single toe where the attack had took place. He always used the Floo network to go where he needed to - his workplace included. That way, he never had to walk the Alley again.
- I wish I could man, trust me, he admitted. You know what ? I'm gonna grab us two more drinks, he added promptly, in a voice he wished was steadier.
He stood up quickly, turned round, hurried to the bar. Walking his fast, wide steps, he took several deep breaths. His gaze got lost in the area he knew the fireplace would be. Maybe he should just take a handful of Floo Powder and head straight home. What a coward you are. Shannon was waiting for him at their table, maybe even more broken than he was himself. And Galaad really wanted to care. But sometimes, worrying about someone else than his own self was too big of a job. Trying to put aside how overwhelmed he felt, he composed a smile for the barman and asked for two glasses of his strongest whisky.

- New ammo, he announced as he came back to Shannon, acting as though he hadn't thought about running away two seconds ago. He was barely sitten down when he took his first sip. The amber liquid burnt his way all down his throat, stripping a painful smile from his lips.
- At least you can't doubt you're alive when you drink that kind o' stuff. It hurts just the right way, he said, having no idea how pathetic it sounded. When had he become so dark, eh ? It felt like a invisible wall had been built between him and the others, isolating him from their laughs, their happy, insignificant lives. But now, he knew he wasn't totally alone behind that wall. Shannon was trapped here, too.
- Here's to the broken souls we are, he toasted, half jokingly, as he raised his glass to his friend. No more talking about the attack. It had just leveled up from painful to unbearable. Who do you spend your nights with, if you ain't sleeping ? he asked. He tried a smile, but it didn't work. Whatever. Any topic other than Easter would a good one - did it really matter if his attitude didn't play along ?

So that was it. Shannon wanted some pills too. And Galaad smiled a little. He should have been worried for his friend. Or even ashamed for dragging him on the same dark path he was now walking. But no. Knowing he could be of some use to his Irish mate made a bit warmer inside. Though Shannon was right, of course. Pills wouldn’t help a lot. And if they did, how long would it last ? Not much – he had been there, again and again, so he knew. Of course, he knew. But he was very good at avoiding responsibilities, as well as any painful question. Just like he had walked away from Shannon, pretending to be getting some drinks, he shrugged away his guilt. His friend was a grown ass man, perfectly able to make his own mind. Right ? As he sat down and watched him drink his whole whiskey away, he felt a little bit better. He was just trying to get his mind away from his pain – wasn’t it what a good friend was supposed to do ?
- I usually find someone to spend the night with me, he replied. Ain’t a big fan of sleeping on my own – never was, but it’s even worse now. Think it makes my nights a little bit easier.
But Shannon didn’t seem to agree. According to him, he wasn’t worthy of spending quality time with anyone. That was a depressing thought.

- Maybe you’re the one that deserves a partner, what d’you think of that ? tried Galaad, but he knew it wasn’t a very convincing answer. He sighed. Then … You know what mate ? I may have exactly what you need, he said abruptly. And he threw his hand inside his pocket, searched it for a few seconds, then drawn out a small craft package that he showed happily before his friend’s eyes. It didn’t take him long to be reminded of the other customers’ gaze however, so he quickly lowered his packet - but the same excited glint remained in his eyes.
- I bought it on Knockturn Alley the other day, he explained as he drew several blue pills from his precious package. Told me it’s some Muggle stuff, but they boosted it magically somehow.
Galaad wasn’t exactly one to ask complicated questions. Assure him he’d have a good time – perhaps even some forgetful bliss - and you’d have a customer. He put a finger on two of the pills, made them slide down the table towards Shannon.
- I haven’t had the opportunity to try it yet, he precised, and a tiny bit of fear could be heard under all his excitement. Wanna give it a go ?

Ecstasy, uh ? Yeah, the sound of it was kind of familiar. The small, hooded man who had sold him the pills might have said this word. Of course, it didn't really counted as medicine - even Galaad wasn't that naive. But if it were to make you feel good, even for a few hours, wasn't it worth the try ? Clearly, Shannon wasn't as enthusiastic as he was. But Galaad didn't give up. He pushed the pills further, closer to his friend, leaving them a few inches from him. Then he took his hand back to his side of the table, grabbing two blue tablets for himself on the way. He raised them above his eyes, watching them with a mixture of fear and envy. Shannon's words finished to convince him.
- Could be nice to feel invincible, don't ya think ? Might be exactly what we need tonight.

Naturally, the part about not using to much of it flew right over his head. Can you keep digging once you've reached rock bottom ? Rethorical question. Of course you can. Galaad had become quite an expert in the matter - as his older sister would have loved to remind him. And as such, he threw the two pills in his mouth, raised his glass to Shannon, and as the tablets already started to dissolve on his tongue, he looked deep in his mate's eyes.
- Bottom's up, I guess ! You said you'd follow, he reminded him unsparingly.
What could possibly go wrong ? It wasn't like Shannon was the kind of guy to throw a dart in one of his colleague's ass just for the fun of it. Bah, too late. The whiskey ran down his throat, flushing the pills along the way. For a few awkward minutes, it felt as if nothing were going to happen. The alcohol burnt his stomach as usual, and that was it. Or was it, really ? The heat started to grow, extending to his chest, then to every muscle in his body. And with that strange fever came a feeling of confidence, of power, like he had never felt before.

He could have moved a mountain. A stupid smile spread across his face as he leaned down and watched the ceiling absently for a minute - or two, or three, time was flying in quite a weird way. Then he got back up and stared at Shannon, still smiling.
- You know what ? Going back in the Alley doesn't seem as impossible as like ... five minutes ago. Told you it would make us some good.
As he was speaking, a stupid idea arrived from the back of his head. It didn't feel as impossible as before ... Might even be therapeutical, who knew ? What could go bad ? He felt fucking invincible. Sure, throw bombs at them. Go ahead. They would just bump on them and explode somewhere else. He felt power pulsing through his veins as never before. And so, with all this mad energy flowing inside him, he asked :
- What if we tried it ? Going back there I mean.

Let's go then. Maybe that whole evening was going to end up being more therapeutical than he'd have imagined. The confidence was beating hard in his chest. So hard it was all he could feel. He stood up, followed Shannon in the crowded pub. In his blurry bliss, he felt like every eyes were on them. But not in a bad way. More like in a admirative, even worshipping kind of way. And it felt incredibly good. Even better than when he played the guitar for the few boys or girls he was hoping to seduce. The idea that, maybe, no one was actually looking, that it was just a drug-induced illusion ... well, it never crossed his mind. Before he knew it, they had reached the door - and then, the cold, empty street. This abrupt transition between the cheerful, warm crowd and the Alley could have been a shock. Should have been a shock. But the ectasy drowned it all, and Galaad didn't even lose his smile.
- Why was I afraid of this place again ? he asked, as Shannon complained about it being too calm.

He ignored his mate for a second, listening closely to the silence. Trying to find out if he would hear the agonizing screams of the people dying on the street. The same cries he fell asleep to every night. But there was nothing. Nothing but the defeaning sound of his heart, beating fast with excitment. That was freeing.
- Knockturn Alley you say ? he laughed, finally catching up with what Shannon had been talking about. Man, this place is like my kingdom. I know its every corners, he bragged, as his mate started to drag him along.
Not that there was anything to brag about. But he did know Knockturn Alley like the back of his hand. Except maybe for the Red House, cause he never really had to pay to spend the night with someone. And he prefered to save his Galleons for other matters - drinks and drugs, obviously. So he followed Shannon on dancing feet, still floating in a blissful confidence. Surely the Alley would hear about them tonight. The Ragtag and Bobtail clearly was up for an ... eventful night. As the two Irishmen would likely wake up under a porch, curled up against one another like two hungover teenagers, with a dry mouth and a pounding migraine.