Wish Away

Bathilde Mochrie was in grief; mourning really. Thus her current location was ranked low in propriety and higher in dealing with said loss. As a former Hogwarts professor and now its Headmistress, she hadn't set foot in a pub since her twenties. So the traditional smoke drifting into her eyes, drum of music and laughter and the occasional intoxicated patron bumping into her were unfamiliar; causing her sensory spells to buzz into overdrive.

She carefully made her way to the farthest table, ordering a firewhiskey when asked. At the sticky table, in the corner, she ignored the general activity around her and concentrated on the drink she'd yet to take from. It wasn't ideal; but she didn't like having alcohol in her chambers or office. Hogwarts was a school after all.