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[Ignatius Prewett]

Normally Ignatius didn't have a problem with early mornings, there were always fewer people around, which meant he was able to take it easy and eat his breakfast in peace, without having to worry about breaking up fights (of the food or physical variety, both were fairly common in the Great Hall) or hurry students out minutes before lessons were due to start. He could sit on his own with a steaming bowl of porridge, his morning staple food, and just block everything else out. This particular morning was different. He had woken up with plenty of time to spare, his dormitory mates all still in the clutches of sleep and snoring away, but his motivation to actually get up and out of bed was non-existant and the desire to go back to sleep overwhelming.

He had been assigned to chaperone the previous day's Hogsmeade visit, and quick to take liberties, Ignatius had stationed himself in The Three Broomsticks after an hour or so wandering the village in the cold, justifying this with the excuse that he 'had to make sure the third years weren't buying firewhiskey' and spent the rest of the day at the pub, steadily drinking with his friends and slowly getting drunk. By some miracle, and probably sheer luck, he'd managed to get back to school without arousing any suspicion (thankfully it wasn't his night to patrol) and made it to the Gryffindor common room without any problems, he hadn't slurred the password or fallen through the portrait hole, which he considered to be quite an achievement. Unfortunately this lucky streak was broken when he attempted to ascend the stairs to his dorm and missed three whole steps, resulting in a fall which left him rather confused and with a sore spot on his chin. He'd ended up in his bed and wearing his pyjama bottoms, although he couldn't remember getting there, and promptly passed out.

It felt like a troll had clubbed him over the head, and maybe hit him in the jaw while it was doing so, his poor, throbbing brain seemed to rattle in his head as he sat up, grateful at least that the autumn mornings weren't full of bright light that would hurt his eyes. A quick check in the mirror revealed a bruise on his face, the purple marking his jaw just below his left ear, and spreading along the bone to his chin, covered slightly by the first signs of stubble. He deliberated on whether to shave or not whilst brushing his teeth as throughly as possible in a somewhat useless attempt to remove the taste of last night's alcohol, and eventually decided to keep the stubble for the day, hoping that nobody asked him about it at any point. He dressed, and made his way down the stairs with extreme caution, not wishing for a repeat of the previous evening, hesitated in front of the fire for a few moments, and then left the comfort of the common room.

Porridge didn't really seem like the most appetising of breakfasts today, so instead of turning off into Great Hall, Ignatius continued to descend the staircase into the dungeons, keeping his head down and trying not to wince as his footsteps echoed loudly through the underground halls, the sound going straight through his rather delicate ears. The house elves in the kitchens seemed happy to see him, and although he was well aware that every other visitor would get the same treatment, it cheered him slightly. One of the elves asked "The usual, sir? and he nodded appreciatively, perching on a stool on the edge of the room and watching the flurry of activity that was the preparation of the entire school's breakfast.

[Lucretia Black]

Lucretia was proud to acknowledge herself a morning person. Perhaps not by first choice, but it had eventually became a habit after Melania Black drilled into her head the thought that sleeping in and laziness were disgraceful traits on pureblood ladies. The witch, who never had problem embracing this philosophy as her own, religiously woke up before most students did, and by the time she was outside of the Great Hall. The School was still a rather nice place to walk about. To her, breakfasts were sacred, and she was willing to go to great lengths to ensure to have the first meal of the day as undisturbed as possible. Furthermore, should Lucretia ever skip a meal, it would be better to leave her be, as she tended to have a low tolerance for hunger.

Having had a Hogsmeade day the previous day, and with the added bonus of not being in charge of the students, had given Lucretia the freedom to go and spend her day uneventfully shopping for dresses for upcoming events her mother would have her attend, a couple of books for her leisure and of course, Honeydukes. The sweet shop was probably one of her favorite places in Hogsmeade, but also one of the most dreaded because they were always bustling with students. In fact, Lucretia would rather visit the shop early in the morning or as the students were departing because it gave her the opportunity to shop quietly and practically undisturbed.

A day of Hogsmeade, plus a night of patrolling the school had turned to be rather tiresome, and Lucretia woke up wanting to have her breakfast away from the chatting crowds of students. The Black girl picked a book from her new acquisitions, and headed down to the kitchen for a quiet breakfast. Of course, all of her ideas of having a quiet breakfast quickly vanished as soon as she saw none other than Ignatius Prewett sitting in the kitchen. The house elves greeted her and she nodded curtly in retort, reluctantly walking over to the Head Boy. “Prewett” She greeted him, her inquisitive grey eyes taking in a large bruise hiding under stubble. Truth was, Ignatius looked much more disheveled than he usually did, which only added to her suspicion. “What happened to your face?” Now that she thought about it, she hadn’t seen Ignatius patrolling around in the streets of Hogsmeade. Lucretia nodded absently when the house elves asked her if she wanted what she usually ordered, and a cup of hot chocolate with biscuits on the side were served in front of her.

[Ignatius Prewett]

By the time a mug of steaming tea was placed in his hands a minute or so later, Ignatius was starting to settle into wakefulness, although admittedly his thoughts were still cloudy thanks to the previous night's consumption of copious amounts of alcohol, the smell of frying bacon alone seemed to make his hangover less painful, an aroma which, to him, was better than any magical cure you could think of. The tea was perfect as always, strong, hot, and sugary, just the the way he liked it, and his mood was starting to rise steadily, especially when he thought of all the things he'd got away with last night, not to mention all the rules he had broken. A prime example of the Head Boy at his finest, obviously.

He heard footsteps and turned his head to see who was entering, instantly wishing he hadn't when his eyes fell on Lucretia making her way across the room, staring suspiciously at him as she walked in his direction - it wasn't the first time they'd encountered one another in the kitchens, he should have known better. He looked up at her, smiling easily and at the same time praying that she didn't notice that anything was amiss. "Morning, Lucy!" he greeted the Head Girl brightly, maybe a little too exaggerated and probably blowing all chances of pretending this day was like and other. He knew as soon as her gaze fell to his chin that the game was up, and mentally ran through a list of possible excuses to make for his bruise, ruling out several and grimacing a little as she got closer, finally deciding to tell the truth about how he had acquired the bruise, but opting to omit the drunkeness

"I er, fell up-- fell down the stairs," he answered, unconsciously touching the sore spot on his jaw, "nothing really..." He trailed off and fixed his gaze on the approaching house elf, doing his best to avoid meeting Lucretia's eyes as she drew closer and focusing instead on the bacon sandwich that was levitating in front of him, a much more appealing prospect than facing up to the Slytherin girl. Thanking the elves once more he took the plate and placed it on his lap, giving all his attention to this beautiful creation, the king of all hangover cures. Unfortunately the pleasure was short-lived, after a couple of minutes he finished his sandwich and looked up, she was still looking down at him with a quizzical expression.

[Lucretia Black]

As Lucretia sat in front of Ignatius, it was as if her eyes were glued to his chin. She dully noted how he called her ‘Lucy’, a nickname she had long ago given up fighting against. Countless times she had demanded he called her Lucretia, but in the end, she had gotten used to him calling her Lucy, although not in such a sun-shiny way. The intense scent of the mug of hot chocolate in front of her, distracted her momentarily from her inspection, finally noticing how hungry she was. Hot chocolate was a beverage she could almost exclusively enjoy at Hogwarts, as her mother found it to be rather childish unless it was raining. The witch took a comforting sip, enjoying the sweet taste in her mouth. It was almost a perfect breakfast indeed.

When Ignatius told her he’d fallen down the stairs, she couldn’t help but be skeptic. Prewett wasn’t clumsy, and Lucretia had hardly seen him trip or fall before. Had he gotten into a fight, maybe? Or maybe he’d played Quidditch at the wee hours of the night? Before she could say anything or continue her trail of thought, a distinctive smell caught her attention. She followed it, even if it led her closer to Ignatius, and she stopped when she was on the verge of invading his personal space. It wasn’t appropriate, and somehow, the Gryffindor boy always tended to make her nervous when in particular proximity. “How odd. Did you get that checked by the school nurse?” She asked casually while she tried to recall what was that smell that seemed to emanate from Ignatius.

And then, it hit her. It was a particular fragrance she encountered regularly in the older students after a night of party. “Is that alcohol I smell on you, Prewett?” She asked accusingly, greyish orbs staring accusingly back at him. It was quite a good explanation of his disheveled look, now that she thought about. Was she the only sane student in the School anymore? Merlin, it wasn’t even lunchtime and Lucy could feel a headache coming already.