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[orlando-de-boys-blog]

Orlando looked around the room. He played a game each Walpurgis, one he had played every year for as long as he could remember; how long can he go before someone realizes he is not aware of what they were actually saying. He had to squint through his mask to try and make out what people were saying behind masks that seemed to almost always hide their lips,. A nod here, a shocked expression there, it was all it really took to keep most people stringing along. Maybe it was the drink he had had already or maybe it was tedium at being stuck in an event like this again, but he didn’t really feel up to his game. He really only had two options, it was feigning being interested in any conversation he’d found himself trapped in, giving nods of his fully masked face here and there where it seemed appropriate or dancing. He could feel the rhythm of the music, it was playing in his veins. So he bowed down and with a flourish of his hand asked for a dance of the passerby, this he could do.

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I guess it would depend on the wizard and Jedi. Skilled aurorer vs human padawan on earth like planet is completely different than ministry worker vs a clawdite master on Dac? Different outcomes.

But really, what does Fleance think? Because he probably needs that win right now.

You…don’t. You die if you get hit by one. Not much harder than dodging a bludger, though. I think?

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Orlando was watching the heated discussion between some other patrons, he could really only make out what two of them were saying but one of them seemed very determined in their defense of donuts as the ideal fried pastry. With a silent chuckle he turned back to Mal and only caught the last of what he was saying. Vandalism? Yeah. Probably some viral campaign the Catapults dreamt up. I swear he did it here just to get at me. Sounds like him. 

Going to have to start some new campaigns soon.

Mal nods at their coffee arrangement, the walk to their favourite coffee shop would be a good stretch out. Mal makes a face at O jab at his wrestling skills. He’s about to make a sarcastic remark about O being a hurtful friend, instead he has to dodge a swing. Orlando may be fast but he’s not faster than a bludger, and he shifted his weight so he knew it was coming. 

They’re sat in the comfy armchairs near the back window of the shop, a small table between them. Mal has ordered his usual, cappuccino with cinnamon on top. So? Hows PR going these days? Did I hear something about vandalism?

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There he goes, little brother. As though his age afforded him the right to look down on Orlando. Why? He had always been as capable, proven that he was at least as capable. Is hand clenched around his wand, not out of a desire to attack but it was there and his hand was going to form a fist otherwise. Dammit. Oliver knew he had gotten to him, and was gloating. There was nothing left for Orlando to say or really do. So he leaned back in his chair and regarded the eldest de Boys. Ollie, Orlando called him by the childish nickname as often as he could, The only thing you fear, is your own failure. He stood up, and made to leave, stopping to turn around one last time. He hated that he had to face his brother to talk to him. You're welcome, I know you need the advance notice since you couldn't manage to keep me to spin it for you. Have a good day, Ollie.  Holding his wand close to himself, he spun and disapparated with a crack  barely loud enough to register in his own ears.

“You look tense, little brother. You shouldn’t take things so seriously.” Oliver knew all too well how to dig at the younger man’s skin, until he was under it completely. Oliver’s brow raised at the motions of Orlando’s hands. “I do think you’re too young and naive. Really, brother, do keep up.” 

“If you really think tabloids scare me, you certainly don’t know the Catapults. Every time we land in the tabloids, we gain another sponsor. Simply put, the Magpies are getting stale.” Oliver’s fingers caught the edge of the file, flipping it open and glancing at it with little interest. “But thank you for the head’s up. I do love to put a little spin on these sorts of things.” 

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Orlando smiled and shook his head a little. As much as he was against anything catapult, Juliet had always struck him as a little on the innocent side and he could never find a reason to fully dislike her. He shrugged, apologetically, there was nothing he could do to convince Juliet that all purebloods wizards were not in the same category as her family's friends. He looked at the blank notepad background on the app on his phone for a second for before typing. 

"We're not all pathetic." He made an over the top sad face at her, feigning insulted feelings. 

Juliet’s eyes widened and she nodded her head solemnly, insisting it was the truth as unbelievable as it sounded. If Orlando had seen the guy’s haircut, he probably would’ve had an easier time digesting it. “Unfortunately that seems to be the expectation of most of Britain’s most eligible. Even as purebloods normalize video games, they still can’t handle 21st century dating law. Pathetic, right?”

[orlando-de-boys-blog]

But would a shield spell stop a blaster?  Right, it’s plasma, light, so it could get through protego, so how do you stop it?

Banquo paused and considered the options. A destroyer droid could definitely, well, destroy, a wizard, but they could probably be defeated by a few good curses. They had no magic to counter them. “Yeah, but they’d be done with a well-placed Jelly-Legs Jinx.”

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He tried to follow what Oliver was saying, but the even lips were difficult, and Orlando knew Oliver knew it. A muscle clenched in his jaw. He tried to tell himself it was a victory, some small thing that Oliver knew he couldn’t retort well enough so he had to resort to not letting him know what he had sad. Even as he tried to convince himself it was a win, he felt his anger rising, but he wouldn’t let it get the better of him. Either way he was forced to ask for repetition or to ignore. At least if he ignored, Oliver didn’t get the total victory. And here I thought you saw me as too young and naive to do anything. He nodded at the still closed file on Oliver’s desk, trying to bring this conversation to something else, avoiding that he’d lost what his brother said. Keep control of your players or next time I’ll skip the ministry and go to the tabloids. I’m sure they’d love to know about  some players breaking the Statute of Secrecy. 

“Of course I know it, there isn’t a single sentence that rolls out of their mouths that doesn’t mention it.” The tone was dull, flat, though it didn’t matter all that much. Orlando could read it in his face, he knew it. “Puffed up bird brains barely can form two sentences together, but that always happens to be one of them.” Said through pursed lips, he knew it wouldn’t be particularly easy to read. But he wanted that moment. That power over his brother, at the very least.

“Naivety doesn’t suit you, Orlando. The Catapults are what they are today because of me.”

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Reminding himself to slow down, Orlando signed back spelling out the less common words. Exactly. I mean, they may have some foresight, but really, one good curse, or jinx and they’d be down for the count. 

Now a destroyer droid would give a wizard a run for his galleons. 

Banquo took a few seconds to understand what Orlando had said. Right! I was trying to say that to her. They’d…be killed. Very easy.

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Orlando tried to keep up but had trouble catching what Oliver had first said and refused to ask him to repeat, so he ignored whatever comment he made about enthusiastic catapults. I am glad you know their winning streak puts them on top, I’m sure they’ll be glad to know, as well. Orlando didn’t even notice that he’d fallen into old habits referring to the Magpies as others and not inclusive of himself. And you didn’t pull them out, Ollie. You just ride the infamy. 

“You still have no proof that it was any of my players. Perhaps a very enthusiastic Catapults fan - there are quite a few, after all.” He scoffed. Orlando didn’t know what strength was - Oliver had never seen his brother truly work for anything.  “Yes, because you’ve managed to sign up with a team that has a consistent winning streak. How difficult your job must be. It’s not as though you brought a team out of the dredges in order to statistically have them in the top standings for the past thirteen years.” He feigned ignorance at Orlando’s comment. Bragging rights didn’t suit his younger brother - they were reserved for the cocky players. 

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Well clearly that can’t be right. I mean, the force is basically like weak magic. and can one of their light swords even block a curse? 

“My wife just spent the past half hour trying to convince me that a wizard wouldn’t be able to defeat a jedi. That’s ridiculous. This is after we watched Return of the Jedi for the eighth time.” 

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So now you’re marketing you brand to muggles? I know you’re paining for fans, but that’s desperate, Ollie. He scrunched up his face and had a small smile before his face fell. You may be older, Ollie, but we both know who the stronger brother is. He did find some of the magpies trying at times, but so had the catapults been trying and he wasn’t about to tell Oliver either fact. Besides, at least they know how to actually play the game.

“An incident that could easily be blamed on muggle miscreants, dear brother.” He raised a brow, looking almost amused at his attempt to imply criminality. “If there was some actual magical incrimination, I’d welcome an investigation. But the fact of the matter is, no one at the Ministry is going to get their bloomers in a twist over a couple of Catapults logos - unlike the Magpies. Have they gotten under your skin that badly that you had to come crying to your older brother about it, Orlando?”

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“Give it some thought for the next time you decide you have an urge to do something stupid.” Orlando cleared the last word and replaced it with “dangerous”. He had to laugh at the last sentence, and he switched to signing. Was that a compliment? 

“But if I do something for charity, people might get confused and think I’m a decent human being.” He laughed, smiling because they both knew that despite his cocky attitued, Benvolio wasn’t, or tried not to be, the asshole that most people saw. “We’d sell more seats if we used your face, O.”

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If that is how you prefer it, I am sure the ministry would love to know about the indelible ink Catapult logo all over muggle landmarks. Orlando nodded at the door, I could go now, then there would be an investigation, I wonder where they would begin.  And they would have to hold the manager incapable of handling his players ultimately responsible.  Orlando let the insult at being a lackey slide, he was out from under his brother’s thumb, and there was no point in giving him satisfaction of an insult landed. 

Oliver resisted the urge of cursing his brother. A hand-binding one had been a favorite of his, and he had recently picked up a tricky one that bound fingers together. But instead, he settled down behind his desk. His eyes focused on his younger brother’s hands, lips curling up in displeasure.

“My players? What proof do you have that they were involved, precisely?” He asked aloud, not dignifying an answer through signing. “Surely if it were an actual issue, it would be the Ministry bringing this up with me, not a Magpie lackey.”

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“Right, but if you do a stunt to raise money, for say charity, Then I guarantee you the catapults will be copying and you can prove that you are best on the field and the best off.” For a moment, Orlando thinks to himself, then clears the air and starts again. “Besides, then it would be your face and your heroic deeds that sell the seats.”

Ben shrugged, his face scrunching up again. All of the politics that went on behind closed doors just served to confuse him-  If he was the best chaser, or one of the best chasers in the league, shouldn’t that be anough? “We’ll sell the seats regardless…. Who could stay away from this face?”

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Orlando dramatically holds up his hands and count down from ten, even if Oliver tried cursing him, Orlando knew he could defend himself, silent spell casting gave him an edge. When his countdown was done, he tossed a file he had been carrying onto the desk. We need to deal with this, your players childish pranks were seen by muggles, Ollie. Again.

“What do you think you’re doing in here? And before you answer, I would think long and hard about which answer is least likely to get you cursed.” 

“I’ll give you to the count of ten.”

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O shakes his head at the excitement. He enjoys the sparring matches but Mal almost seems too excited sometimes. He raises his hands, palms out in apology, he just needed to remind himself to slow down. Yeah. I need one, too. He nods to agree to coffee and laughs a silent laugh at his request for lessons. Shaking his head he signs Clearly, and a few for signing as well. Taking a swipe at Mal's head he doesn't expect to connect, he heads off to the locker room before Mal can get in a reply.

Some times Mal forgets to sign because he gets over excited. Great! He claps his hands together once. Right. He watches O’s hands intensely, getting the gist of his friend’s words. Mal laughs at what he’s understood. Here I was letting you win because you sign so damn fact that’s what I thought you were saying. That’ll change. I’m going to - the sign for shower escapes him so he points over his shoulder to the door that leads to them. Coffee after? Because clearly I need - Mal slows down to spell out the next word - remedial lessons. 

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Orlando laughed out air at her expression and shook is head slightly, jocks and nerds were a rivalry that would never end, almost as bad as the one between the teams. he tapped out "16 hours doing anything? That takes some stamina, I guess. Could be worse - they could have you make brownies for every tea for the rest of your life."

After reading Orlando’s reply, Juliet scrunched her nose in distaste and shook her head before typing, “Oh God, no. I’ve met those guys, and they could not be farther from the ideal. One of them told me his biggest achievement was playing Dungeons and Dragons for sixteen hours straight. Can you say score?”