William Bloom

Oct. 2, 2019, 9:21 p.m.

Imperfect most likely

The brown eyed Cetus blinked once or twice, still fighting the sleep that wanted to overtake him as he sat on a stool at his parent’s bar. William Bloom drooped over the third cup of coffee that he’d had in the last few hours, trying to stay awake. The clock on the wall ticked an hour that was far too late for his liking, and his whole world was about to go for a spin. Literally, he was about to switch from the world of working dinner tables to clutching a portkey to get to Rocky Mountain. Sometimes, it sent him for an actual spin and combined with his current state of drowsiness, it was bound to be another disaster waiting to happen.

Either way, he wasn’t prepared to face the near-to-five hour time difference that awaited him. It had proved to be a terrible time the previous semester and the fifth year hated it and always would. He’d tried to convince his parents to let him stay with his sort-of uncle Dach in New York. Aunt Cayden had suggested it the last time he saw her and it seemed like a good idea, at least then there would be less of a time difference. But no, that wasn’t happening and so he was awake, at a god awful hour, just to portkey to a timezone where it was barely even dinner time. The lag would plague him for days and it would take more than an invigoration draught to fix it. Either way, the Cetus stifled a yawn and then tried to smooth out the unruly parts of his hair. It was likely time for a haircut, the brown curls sticking in different directions no matter what he tried, but he just hadn’t gotten around to it yet.

A shuffle and nearing footsteps alerted the teen to the presence of his father, the tall lanky man appearing in the door to the stairs that led to the upper level of the pub. “You ready, Junior?” He asked, covering a yawn of his own. They’d closed the pub early that night to spend some family time together, but none of them liked being dragged out of bed in the wee hours of the morning. In response, Will just shook his head. He didn’t really want to go to school this year, he’d have much preferred to have gone back to school with Reagan and most of that could be attributed to spending the summer with his best mate. William O’Connell just sighed and shook his head. “I know it’s ‘ard laddie, but you’ll be fine once you pull your socks up and get over being jaded.”

“Where’s mum at?” Was the only reply that came from the fifteen year old as he moved to stand and put his coffee cup in the sink. “Just out the scratcher, you know how she is,” the older man finished with a shrug, not saying any more and Will let out a chuckle. He’d heard his dad try to get his mum out of bed. It usually ended with an amount of cursing that would make anyone blush. It wasn’t more than a few minutes that Andrea walked into the room.

Goodbyes were quick after that and it seemed like half a minute went by before Will was seated at the blue fire. He wasn’t sulking, but he wasn’t exactly happy either. He managed to tune out the entire speech, thinking instead of Ireland and Hogwarts and all the places he wished he could be besides in a crummy school in America. Only the smell of food brought him back to where he was. He picked a few things off trays brought by the house elves, all reminiscent of the food he might have had at home. A passing elf nearly hit him with a tray and Will leaned away from it, knocking into someone in the process.

“No, sorry,” he said, a sheepish expression crossing his features. He couldn’t place his fellow housemate, but he was pretty sure he wouldn’t forget someone who had an uptight atmosphere around them. “I was trying to get out of his way, thick of me not to look where I was leaning but I'd rather not get clocked in the head.”

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