It was a problem, and Allie knew it. That didn't matter, though, because that was how addiction worked. A person could know that what they were doing was completely, utterly disastrous, and still want to feel that high no matter how much it cost them
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So, begrudgingly, he followed practice with a visit to Diagon Alley.
If he was going to get himself new gloves, he was going to get the best bloody pair he could. What was a Keeper without them?
He had been turning the corner, his eyes stuck on the ground when he suddenly felt very hot, scalding liquid splash him in his chest. He winced, his eyes flashing to the culprit and them widening slightly.
"Oh-" he stopped, pulling his coat away from his chest, trying to prevent the coffee from spilling further. "Oh no- it's-"
He paused, catching her eyes.
"It's alright- it happens-"
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