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Drago was sure that this was a very bad idea.
This had to be one of the worst ideas since the time that the Statute of Secrecy was broken during the muggle rebellion of the Soviet Union.
He looked around, nervous.
He was in Diagon Alley, the British Wizarding alley that had nearly everything.
He was here to visit a cousin of his, Nyx Blackheart.
But before he went to see her, he wanted to see Diagon Alley.
It was, after all, one of the most famous places in Greater Britain.
He told his father with sign language that he would like to see Florish and Blotts first.
His father sighed.
"What did we talk about Drago?"
Drago sighed. The he spoke, quietly, so quiet his father had to strain to hear.
"I have to use my words, I can't use sign language."
His father looked a bit less miffed than before.
He told him that he could indeed check out the bookshop.
Drago practically ran from his father.
He was glad to be away from him.
He finally stopped in front of the store after bumping into a few people and elbowing others.
The store looked amazing. He stepped inside.
It was amazing, with long, towering stairs that lead to even more books.
Even more adventures.
The store itself smelled of old parchment and ink, with a faint whiff of something familiar, yet at the same time different.
Like an old friend coming to welcome me to this strange and exotic place.
He bought a few books on Hogwarts, the school his cousin went to so that at least he wouldn't be completely ignorant.
Hr sighed again.
If only people were like books.
Quiet, dependable to remain exactly that same, no matter what.
He would have to get his glasses out to read them, but no matter.
He could deal with his cousin's teasing.
He placed the books in a bag before walking out.
Sadly, he didn't notice that there was someone in his way.
He bumped into them before tumbling down.
"I-I-I'm s-sso sorry!"
He mumbled and stuttered out an apology to the other boy.

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Current Outfit:

Reducio

Black silk shirt, black jeans-pants, and black shoes.

Mikey was excited to take a day trip to London with his dad. It would be nice to get out of Liverpool and get a jump on his school shopping, so it wasn’t all last minute like last year. His father decided to wait in the Leaky Cauldron and chat while Mikey picked up a few things in Diagon Alley. “Just don’t take longer than an hour.” His father said, and that seemed fair. He didn’t care much for waiting either.

Mikey barely had time to react before someone barreled right into him. He let out a soft "Oof!" as the impact knocked him off balance, his shoulder colliding with the shop wall beside Flourish and Blotts. A few parchment scraps from his notebook fluttered loose and scattered across the cobblestones like startled birds. Then he looked down.

A boy about his age was already stammering apologies, his arms hugging a stack of books like they might vanish if he let go. His voice was quiet and shaky, like the words didn’t come easy. Mikey crouched instantly, brushing off his jeans. “Hey, no worries! I didn’t even see you coming either.”

He reached out a hand with an easy smile, the kind that said really it’s fine. “You okay? That was a pretty solid collision. Ten points to you for taking me by surprise.” Once the boy took his hand, Mikey helped him up, then tilted his head slightly to study him. “You’re not from around here, are you? Or at least not Diagon Alley. You’ve got that wide eyed vibe. Which is totally valid.”

His smile turned a little sheepish as he bent to collect his loose pages. “I’m Mikey. Mikey Forville.” Now that the other boy was on his feet Mikey noticed how tall he was. It wasn’t strange to meet boys taller than himself, but it also wasn’t common. He also noticed his pale skin and dark eyes. He was an interesting looking kid to Mikey, almost out of place while still fitting in somehow.

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Drago stared into the blue eyes of the other boy.
He seemed nice enough, but looks can be deceiving.
He stuttered a bit more, not being able to get his words out.
He finally said, Я в порядке, я рад, что ты в порядке. Эмм, пожалуйста, скажи, что у тебя всё хорошо?
Ya v poryadke, ya rad, chto ty v poryadke. Emm, pozhaluysta, skazhi, chto u tebya vsyo khorosho?
"I'm ok, I'm glad you're ok. Umm, please tell me you're ok?"
He noticed the confused look on the other boy's face and realized his mistake.
He was speaking Russian.
He quickly changed into English.
"I-i-i-I'm sorry, I wa-was speaking R-r-Russian. When I get n-n-n-nervous, I speak Russian.
My names is Dr-dr-Drago. Drago Thanatos-Kholodov"
He spoke with a very slight Russian accent.
English was the one language he couldn't seem to grasp as well as others.
He looked down at the other boy, hiding his face behind his hair.
The other boy was shorter than him, with light, dusty brown hair.
He also had a very bright and welcoming smile.
Drago was slightly wary, but the other boy didn't seem likely to pummel him for knocking into him, so he allowed himself to give a shy smile.
He bent down to get the other boy's papers which were strewn all over the ground.
He looked at them.
He said, his voice still quiet but surprised.
"Oh? You go to Hogwarts? My cousin goes there. Maybe you know her? Her name is Nyx."
He asked shyly, afraid that his question would make the other boy go away.
It was a stupid question, he thought.
Hogwarts was enormous.
It wasn't likely that they had ever met before, or even seen each other.
But it just seemed to intrigue the other boy more.
He had this look of recognition on his face that made Drago think that maybe he did know her.

☞ Speaking
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Current Outfit:

Reducio

Black silk shirt, black jeans-pants, and black shoes.

The first thing that hit Mikey was the language, Russian. He'd heard it somewhere previously but couldn’t put his finger on where. Fortunately, Drago switched to English fast enough, stammering through his name with the kind of cautious bravery Mikey recognized instantly. "Drago," Mikey whispered quietly, as if testing the name for the very first time. "Good name. Like a book hero, or someone with lightning-attraction powers or something."

He smiled again, gentler this time, as he stuffed the final of his parchment into his satchel. Drago's words were a little knotted, yeah, but there was something familiar in how he huddled up on himself, not bothering to occupy space. Mikey had been that kid once too. And then the name fell, Nyx.

"Nyx? Nyx Blackheart?" he questioned, the flicker of surprise crossing his face. "Yeah. I know her. We're in the same year at Hogwarts. She's. not easy to ignore, to be honest. Extremely poised. Amazing hair. Kind of intimidating, in a mysterious forest-witch sort of way." He smiled and angled forward with his head so that he was addressing Drago directly.

"Oh, you're her cousin? That's wild. What are the chances?" He lingered for a moment before nodding in the direction of the bookstore. "I'm assuming you're doing that thing where you're just pretending to browse, but really you're just desperately reading about Hogwarts so you don't sound like a complete deer in headlights the first day? Don't sweat it, we all did it."

He pushed his hands deep into his hoodie pockets, angling slightly back on his heels. "You traveling this year? I mean, if you are, and if Nyx is as she appears, she's already got you on a reading list and written you at least one threatening letter regarding behavior." Mikey hadn't spoken, but it was kind of pleasant, running into someone like that. Not many people admitted when they were nervous, or stuttered so badly, or defaulted to their native language by mistake. But Drago had done all of these things, and that was a kind of honesty he admired.

"Want a butterbeer or something?" he suggested, lowering his head towards the alley. "My dad gave me some money on top of what I had. Said I should spend it because I didn't set anything on fire this year. Not a very high standard, I know. But anyway." His voice remained light, but the grin he sported was real — an offer, not a push. "Anyway," Mikey continued, laughing, "I need to know what you really said in Russian to me. I'm still just pretending I got it."

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Drago listened to Mikey as he spoke.
When Mikey said all that stuff about Nyx, Drago did something tat surprised them both.
He laughed.
Not a very loud laugh, albeit, but still, a low, musical one.
Mikey looked shocked at his laughter but plowed on.


He spoke to Drago, confessing his surprise at them being cousins.
But then again, one could see the resemblance.
They both had long, thick black hair, both were pale like a sheet of paper, and they both had an avid interest in books.
They also wore black.
It was their thing, to wear dark colors.
It didn't make their parents happy, but that's what made their friendship unique.
They were clearly cousins though most people when they saw them together, they mistook them for siblings.
It was a fun game of theirs when they were young, to play twins.
It was funny to see just how many people they could baffle.
But then, his mother disappeared and he didn't get to see Nyx for a while.
But now, he was there to comfort Nyx in her hard time.


He ducked his head when Mikey asked him if he was desperately looking for info on Hogwarts.
He thought about what he asked him, if he was traveling this year.

"I am going to see Nyx. Her mama, she died few months ago, and my oncle — her father — he says she’s having tough time adjustink.
But da, she has written me not one, but two letters about my behavior... though I have not yet gotten ze reading list."
He thought about Mikey's offer to get Butterbear.
It couldn't hurt to get to know this new friend better.
"Da, I mean… sure. I vould love to get a butterbeer vith you. And I vill tell you about vot I spoke before… in Russian."
He smiled at Mikey again, waiting for him to take the lead.

☞ Speaking
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Current Outfit:

Reducio

Black silk shirt, black jeans-pants, and black shoes.

Mikey nodded in Drago's response, his face changing from friendly to more introspective as he heard about Nyx's mum. He had no idea. Perhaps he'd heard rumor, but nothing specific. His chest hurt at the thought of Nyx struggling, it wasn't something that was true to the way he'd always imagined her, calm and composed even when the rest of the room was falling apart.

"Yeah," Mikey drew breath. "That kind of loss. doesn't ever really go away, not really. But good that she's got you. Family does work. Or at least. every so often they do." He said no more about that last bit. With a flashing smile that didn't quite conceal the flicker of thought behind his eyes, Mikey nodded to Drago. "Let's go, then."

They fought back down the alleyway, dodging shoppers and owls' filthy cages, stacks of parchment and shrieking witches. Mikey glanced once over his shoulder to ensure Drago hadn't been caught up in the crowd again, then slid into the groaning sign of the Leaky Cauldron at the end. Dust and the smell of stale wood, butterbeer foam and hot onions welcomed him immediately.

"Hey, Dad!" he shouted waving his arm. His dad was still in the corner, sipping a pint and speaking to a wizard in a Ministry cloak. He turned and cocked an eyebrow, but Mikey just grinned and waved two fingers in a gesture of just getting something, not dying, all fine. Mikey got two butterbeers at the counter. Outside wasn't chilly, but there was just something nice about having a hot mug in one's hand. He offered one to Drago and pointed to an empty table by the window with a jerk of his chin.

They slipped into the booth, light seeping in about the old distorted glass. Mikey drank from his drink, then set it down with a gentle clinking before leaning forward, voice conspiracy mode. "Okay," he grinned, "You swore. What did you say to me in Russian?"

He tilted his head to one side, curious and sly at the same time, elbows propped on the table and butterbeer swaddled between his hands as if it contained all the secrets. "You didn't call me a fool or anything, did you? I mean, I wouldn't blame you." He smiled again and waited for his reply.

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Drago followed Mikey all over until they finally came to the Leaky Cauldron where he stood, slightly apart while Mikey spoke to someone that looked like his father. Then they both sat down and ordered their Butterbeers.
The alley had been even more chaotic than when he had first arrived.
It was filled with screeching witches and bumbling wizards, creepy salesmen who were selling suspicious looking potions and draughts, and witches who were selling miracle hair supply.
Knockturn Alley looked dark, and dank. A disgusting liquid was slowly dripping out of a hole and into Diagon.
Thankfully, they avoided it in their quest to find the Leaky Cauldron.
He came back to the moment at hand.
Mikey had asked him what he said in Russian, joking, asking if he had called him a fool or something. Not that he would blame him though.
Drago just smiled sheepishly. "No, I just panicked and mumbled a lot of nonsense and told you that you were all right before asking if you were all right." He said, rubbing the back of his head with his hand.
He felt a bit embarrassed that he had handled the initial situation that way, but now? He was just happy to have met a new friend.
Then, he took a sip of his Butterbeer.
It was an explosion of flavor. It was like melted butter and butterscotch, and something he couldn't place his finger on but he didn't care. It was amazing.
"Wow!" He exclaimed.
"This is amazing! We don't have anything like this in Russia."
He explained when Mikey gave him an amused and curious look.
"We do have something called kvass or квас. It's like buttrebeer but more fizzy. And it's slightly fermented but it doesn't have alcohol. It's sometimes fruity.
I drink it in the summer a lot. It tastes really good. Maybe sometime I can introduce it to you!

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Current Outfit:

Reducio

Black silk shirt, black jeans-pants, and black shoes.

Mikey smiled when Drago embarrassingly translated what he'd actually said in Russian. All angry garbage and a friendly greeting. He raised his mug in a small pretend toast. "So, then I take back the part where I thought you were cursing me out under your breath. I'll hold onto the part where you said I was all right though," he held in a chuckle, taking a big gulp of butterbeer.

Sitting across from him, Drago took his first sip and almost glowed. Mikey regarded him with curiosity When Drago burst out in awed, "Wow!" Mikey rested chin on palm, half-smiling. "Right?" he said. "It's like warmth and dessert and comfort and a big old hug all in one."

He was going to go when Drago began to describe kvass—how fizzy it was, lightly fermented, sometimes fruity. Mikey's head shifted to the side, a faint glimmer of excitement in his eyes. "Kvass," he repeated, hesitantly rehearsing the word. "That does sound wicked. I don't think I've ever had anything remotely like that. Maybe, like. the strange soda at the corner store back home. But nothing like with fermentation. Or fruit. Or culture."

He took a sip, this time more slowly, as if savoring the taste a little bit more now that it contained something new. "I'd love to try it, if you brought some by sometime. Maybe we can have a butterbeer vs. kvass taste test. See which folks like better."

And then, after a pause, he glanced at Drago and continued, "It's pretty neat, isn't it? That you can be half a world away, and we can just sit here and talk like this. Like, sure our families are super different, and school's even crazier but this kind of thing?" He drummed his fingers on his butterbeer. "This is nice."

For an instant, the pub around them receded from their senses. The flicker of the torches, the groaning wood, and even the murmur of talk receded to background. Mikey gazed out the window, then turned to look at his new acquaintance.

You know," he said slowly, "I think Nyx'll be happy you're coming. Even if she rolls her eyes at you and pouts sometimes." He smiled wryly. "Because sometimes it is not the ones that get you better than anybody else who do the most good. It’s the ones that just show up anyway." Mikey felt a little embarrassed for droning on and waited for Dragos reply.

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He listened while Mikey talked, feeling the Butterbeer warm him up. He smiled when Mikey said that thing about Nyx. About her pouting and complaining. She should have done that. But she didn't. She didn't even insult him in their last owl. And the truth was, he wasn't even sure that that Nyx existed anymore.
He sighed. Why was it so hard for him to just talk?
To kinda just trust that the other person would be there to listen and not make him feel like an idiot.
"I yust… eto trudno. This is hard to tok about. Ya navernoye, ak, I probably sound like durak, an idiot, da? It'z just… sometimes, don’t you feel like, nyet, no matter vot you do, it never seems… never dostatochno? Never enough? Take my otets, my father, for example. He eez zlói, you know. Very angry because I refuse to tolk to him for pochti six years. Almost 6 years. And nyet matter how khorosho well I do in school, it does not seem to make up for eto this."
He spoke, with an air of resignation.
He just fell like he needed to get it all out, in the open. And Mikey just seemed like the kind of guy who would sit quietly and listen to you hear you pour your heart out.
He sighed. It just felt like he finally found a friend who he could talk to about all of this. And he had a feeling that Mikey knew what he what he was talking about.
He didn't push though, he just let that comfortable silence wrap the both of them up like a warm blanket on a cold winter day. He wanted to ask Mikey more stuff, but was afraid that he might not answer. He watched Mikey, waiting for his answer.

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Current Outfit:

Reducio

Black silk shirt, black jeans-pants, and black shoes.

Mikey spoke, waiting a moment after Drago's statement before filling the silence. He heard the clank of mugs around the bar, the thump of boots on creaked warped wooden boards, and the distant ebb and flow of voices around them. Everything else seemed muted compared to the seriousness in Drago's tone.

“No”, Mikey finally responded, his voice low and even. "You don't sound like a drunk idiot." He settled back in his chair, butterbeer held in both hands, his eye darting to the twisted glass of the window before coming back to Drago. "You sound like someone who's been carrying too much for too long."

He paused, then let the words flow, unsure how much to reveal but thinking perhaps it was only decent. "My dad's… all right. I mean, he tries his best. But there's only him and me. Mum left when I started at Hogwarts. There are times when I believe if I achieve straight A's, if I don't mess up, then maybe I'll be enough to fill the gap she left. If I am flawless, then it will all be whole again. But it isn't. It never is." He offered me a warm smile, though it was not quite a humorous smile. "So yeah. I see what you mean about never enough."

Mikey moved around, fingers rubbing on the scratches in the table, gazing at Drago sympathetically and with a soft smolder of stubbornness. "But perhaps that's the point, huh? Perhaps it has nothing to do with being enough for them. Perhaps it's just about being with the people who already make you feel like you are."

He lifted his mug up a little bit, subtle toast to Drago. "Like, maybe this is one of those moments. Two idiots sipping butterbeer and discussing things that most people wouldn't care about." He rested his elbows against the table, easing the grin into one that was more natural. "So, how can I curse in Russian so no one will know?" Mikey said in an attempt to lighten the mood.