How Many Shoes Fit In A Purse?

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Jack Dyson

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Loud beats of music drummed against the textured cream walls of the low-slung garage. Although, it had not been a garage for many years now, and nailed into the flaking painted walls, were several lengthly wooden shelves, each decorated with with a set of fairy lights, and several empty beer cans and bottles alike. The room itself, contained only three dusty, partially broken sofas- the sort that topped 1980s showrooms, two circular wooden tables which were, naturally, hidden beneath the quantity of alcohol stacked atop it, and a dimly glowing lightbulb. The rest of the house was far more impressive, and much better lit with proper strobe party lighting, flickering the rainbow in colours. It was out in the living room that furniture had been pushed aside to make way for those who wished to dance before the explosively loud speakers. The kitchen, as would be expected, had been topped with food and alcohol. Few people seemed to notice the existence of the kitchen and, for the first thirty minutes of the his attendance at the party, this was where Jack stood, gently sipping at a glass of white wine that a passing guest had handed him.

As seemed rather obvious to those around him, Jack Dyson was not the best at handling social events. Fortunately it had not fallen to him to host the party. He had only really been invited out of pity, or so he speculated as he took a slightly larger sip from the wine glass he grasped, eyeing the other guests through the open doorway. Jack sighed to himself, before staring down at his clothes: The sort of party outfits he had donned throughout his teenage years, had vanished, recently, to be replaced by the considerably less outrageous dark pair of trousers, yellow shirt, blue jacket, maroon tie, and oversized brown belt that he now wore. There had also been a large change in the hair and make-up department. At the end of the previous year, he had lost the scruffy rags of cloth and strange pins that usually dwelled within his bulk of hair. The change had all come about because of one thing, one tiny reason. He had believed that this alteration would solve his single lifestyle. His single, boring life. Of course, so far it had made no real difference, but he had not attended many parties in the last couple of months.

"A'right, Jack?" The voice was lightly accented, young and welcoming. "You look a bit lonely 'ere, mate." The casually dressed man raised his eyebrows at Jack, watching another few sips of wine disappearing into Jack's mouth. "Oh no," Jack replied hastily, "I'm fine on my own- I mean, it's good to see you, Michael, but I don't mind being alone. I'm quite used to it." Jack threw out a particularly awkward laugh. Michael frowned. The two men had been relatively friendly since the first time they had met at the party of a mutual friend. Both had been legless and without a ride home, so they had staggered back home together. Well, as far as the local park, at least, before passing out on the wood-chip surface of the playground. "Mm," Michael answered uncertainly, "look, how about we grab a couple of shots? Let's show these kids how to party!" There was little that Jack could do, other than agree. Anything to ease his awareness of his surroundings.</COLOR>

"Three.. Two.. One.." Another shot, another rush to the head, another stream of laughter from Michael as Jack's face screwed up with the strong and unpleasant taste. "I've nev-never been too fond of rum," Jack commented, leaning on the kitchen counter, bracing for a final shot of the dark coloured liquid. Michael topped up the glasses, turning to Jack with a lopsided smile. "Course," he began in slurred tones, "aft'r this one, you.. You 'ave got to go out there an' socialise. An'.. And I won' be there to 'old your 'and. You're a big boy, now. You gotta do this for yourself." Jack, who was equally inebriated, though a lot better at hiding it, but an arm around Michael, giving him half a hug. "Thanks, mate," he smiled, turning back to the shots and lifting his to his lips. "Three, two.."

Intoxication, however much it hindered his physical abilities to walk and talk, only aided in his confidence. Hands stroking against the wall to help him keep his balance, the lights twisting and turning his head, Jack managed to find his way over to a mostly empty corner, but for the few people who stood there. One of whom was an older man who seemed to have captivated every present girl's attention. Jack paused beside one of the girls, going unnoticed, and tried to listen to what the man was saying.
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Admittedly, muggle house parties were not Edmund's usual haunt, but nonetheless, as he had walked the quiet english street, he had heard the distant rumble of music, and it had reignited the flame of youth he had feared to have burnt out. Dressed in his normal dark clothing, Edmund had strayed from his path and to the drooping driveway of number thirteen, and had simply walked confidently through the front door, unquestioned and unnoticed, regardless of his age. It never failed to astound Edmund by how little muggles noticed. It came as personal amusement that he, a wizard, had freely strolled through the front door of a stranger's house, had helped himself to a large glass of red wine, and had only stood in the corner of the room, blending in with the scenery for less than five minutes before a rather pretty brunette had strode to his side and introduced herself. And it seemed the more she and Edmund spoke, the more other muggle girls began to join the conversation, until he had a small audience. He told them he was a musician, but he was, and had always been cautious to leave out details where possible. It only seemed to work in his favour, mind, casting him as some mysterious, probably 'out-there' type of person.

And to think he had only come to England for an extended holiday while he thought over his next moves in life. Funny how things seemed to turn out differently to how they were planned. He had found himself recounting tales of his adventures overseas, the places he had traveled to, the people he had met- all within muggle reason, of course, when a young man had crept into the corner of his vision. Edmund's words slowly came to a halt as he turned his head to look the man over. A mere boy, he thought to himself, shaking his head at the state of the lad. It was quite obvious to Edmund exactly why the man had stumbled over to the group. Just as obvious as it was that this man was nowhere near as socially adept as he was. His eyes brushed over the scrawny lad, settling on the two slightly unfocussed eyes which appeared to be watching him in a study.

Now that the talking had stopped, the girls present began to turn their heads and look at the source of disruption. A couple of them muttered something between them, before sweeping off to the kitchen for fresh drinks. Another couple of them flashed Edmund a quick smile before moving back onto the dance floor. More of them gradually eased away until just the first brunette, the sturdiest in confidence, remained. She lifted her eyebrows, awaiting some explanation, though she seemed unfazed by the dispersion of the other listeners. Edmund couldn't hold back the small twinkle in his eyes that clearly said he was glad she hadn't gone. He found himself staring at the young man, again. A drunken muggle was a far more interesting one than a sober muggle. "Can I help you? You look a little uneasy on your feet." Though the German accent had mostly been buried away, in a room full of english speaking english people, it was clear as day that he was not a lifetime resident of the country.
 
In his drunken stupor, it took Jack a few moments to realise that he had quickly become the focus of the man's attention. His stomach lurched. What if this guy thought he was out to steal his girls? Alright, it wasn't particularly far from the truth that Jack intended to talk to one or two of them, or that he was intending to try out the terrible pick-up lines Michael had taught him. But he was not going to simply walk in and steal them straight from under this man's nose. He had merely been listening for advice, tiny hints that may have given him one slight clue in life. As the man spoke, it became obvious that english was likely not his first language, at all. That's probably why they flocked him, Jack had thought to himself, attempting to hold eye contact with the man, feeling a little more brave, if I had a proper accent, they'd flock me, too.

"No thanks," Jack replied, giving an unintentionally well-timed stumble, "I'm fine. This is a man's walk. A real man's walk. Not your flouncy bouncy, tra-la-la sort of walk." He had no idea why he was reacting so badly to this man, but he felt the overwhelming urge to punch him for no apparent reason. Maybe it was the obvious arrogance that emanated from him. Maybe it was because he was being polite rather than simply smacking Jack in the nose like any other guy would normally have done. Well, that or humiliate him. And that's another thing, Jack thought to himself, looking over at the brunette who had stayed at the man's side, cuddling up to Alison.. Jack's eyes narrowed. Alison was the reason he had attended a party in January on a work night. She was one of the most beautiful women he had ever had the chance to almost not-quite meet. They had first almost not-quite met at Michael's New Year's Eve party, where they had danced around for a bit in front of the television. Ol' Lang Syne had just started playing, and both were potently drunk. Then again, everyone at the small party was, all motivated to avoid sober conversation with each other. The whole group had held hands to sing, before everyone started cheering 'happy new year!' to each other, and planting kisses on whoever they fancied, or whoever was nearest. In this case, it had been Jack and Alison. She had instantly leant forwards after exclaiming "Happy new year!" and had kissed him full on the lips. Since then, he had been unable to stop thinking about seeing her again, but each time they met, she seemed to blank him. Now she was attempting to get this other guy's attention.

"You come here with your pearly smile and your.. Your.." His eyes looked the man over, seeking another thing to pick on. Jack, himself, was the owner of a perfectly charming pearly smile, though at present, it was hidden behind the growing mask named jealousy. "Your brown eyes, and you expect all the women to just run to your side," Jack made to take a step forward, to jab a finger into the man's chest. As he did this, he sort of tripped of his own foot. "And.. It's not going to happen."<i></i>
 
Edmund stood and listened to the muggle's words. Quite amusing, really. He finished the red wine of his glass, and set the empty glass down on the small corner table. Just in time, too, as the man lurched towards him with about as much grace as a walrus doing the waltz. Instinctively, Edmund outstretched his arms to catch and support the man by the elbows. But the sudden fact that Edmund was stopping him from falling flat on his face, didn't seem to stop the guy from poking him in the chest. He watched the finger jabbing at him, before following the arm attached, all the way back to the owner's eyes. If these were how all muggle men were, they'd be a doddle in a fight.

"Are you trying to chat me up, or initiate a fight?" Edmund asked politely, ignoring the brunette at his side who seemed suddenly amused by the situation. He glanced at her, giving her a somewhat apologetic, 'see you later' sort of look. She reacted by smiling at him, and shaking her head at the man, before walking over to join her friends on the dance floor, all of them taking a quick peek in Edmund's direction to see what was going on. If Edmund knew women half as well as he thought he did, they were all expecting him to put this guy in his place. But Edmund's fights of youth, though the fire could still burn bright, were long echoes in his past.
 
His eyes were fixed on this man's face, though the rest of him went unnoticed to himself, and he seemed not to realise that this stranger was holding him up. The words had not quite been what he was preparing himself for. Still, he answered the first thing that came to mind. "If I'm honest," he answered, not even looking away for half a second, knowing that turning his head too fast would only result in his dizziness, "it's probably a bit of both." And with that, out of nowhere, as Jack's jacket began to slip his shoulders, just as he moved one arm to let it drop from it, he swung a fist and clouted the man around the face. Jack stumbled backwards, only one arm left in his jacket, the modeling his yellow shirt. He pushed himself back against the wall for support.

He had no idea what he had expected to come of this, but it was definitely not going the way he wanted it to when Alison and her friends ran over- to the other guy. "Oh my God," one of them said, before rounding on Jack, "why would you do that?!" But without giving him the chance to explain, Alison pushed forward and slapped his face. "Idiot." She hissed, loathing his behaviour, turning back to the other man to try and see the injury. It was but a mild lip injury. Jack was far too drunk and uncoordinated to do any real damage. "I'm a nurse," he heard Alison saying as she examined her patient. Jack felt the ache in his head. What an idiot he had been. Deciding it was probably best to just get out of Alison's way before he did any more stupid things, Jack headed for the garage side-door, the only point of access, and made his way inside to one of the sofas.

He sat in silence for a good few minutes before he heard girls giggling, and the familiar accented male voice of the man he had punched. A moment later, the man had joined him in the room. It was empty but for them, a passed-out guy, and a cuddling couple. The man sat down beside him, silent at first, but soon looking his way and.. Smiling? Jack was sure he was in for it, now.<i></i>
 
The blow caught his lower lip, and Edmund instantly released the man's arms, holding a hand up to feel the wound on his face. In was nothing he hadn't felt before. Instantly, the girls had returned to coo over him. Which was all well and good, until he noticed the brunette slapping the young man. Regardless of how this man had acted towards him, Edmund could pity the muggle. This man was obviously too young to fend for himself in a social situation such as this. He watched as the boy slunk from the room and into the next with his pride sorer than the red hand mark across his cheek. After convincing the girls that he was, however unbelievable it may seem, a full grown man who could look after himself, though obviously he hinted at this in a rather more flirtatious manner, Edmund sauntered off after the young lad, joining him on the sofa of the quieter room.

It was still early, yet, but someone had already managed to overdo the alcohol, and had passed out. It cheered Edmund up to think of the wizarding aids to prevent hangovers. Poor muggles. He turned to the young lad, the fighter, and gave him a smile. "You throw a decent punch," Edmund said in his usual charming manner, glancing over at the young couple cuddled up together. He tried to think back to those days, those years he had spent cuddling up with those he held close to his heart. But he couldn't. Because they had not existed in so many words. "I take it she was your girlfriend?" That was the 'vibe' he'd been getting from the glares, the attempt at starting a fight, the fat lip..
 
Jack shook his head mournfully in response. "No," he answered, looking anywhere but the man's face, "no, nothing like that." Of course he had been kidding himself when he had thought fighting this guy would impress Alison, of course he had been a fool to think that the two of them could ever be something when she was so perfect, and he was just a loner I.T guy with a cat named Cat. "I once thought that maybe.." Jack lapsed into silence, growing quickly interested in the loose fibers of the sofa. His eyes then did a lap of the room before settling on the injury he had caused the man. "Sorry about that," he gestured to the wound which now consisted of a small line of dried blood, and pale coloured bruise. "I'm not really sure what I was thinking."

His intoxication had not worsened, and though he was far away in his mind, Jack still had some small thought process functioning. The very British, apologetic one. It seemed to be his default after too much alcohol, and he only knew that after tonight, he would vow never to drink again. Oh, but he would. That was what he did at parties. Socialising without took self-confidence like this other guy had. Jack observed the girls passing the doorway, glancing in at the two of them. One of these girls was Alison, and Jack forced out a weak smile for her. She rolled her eyes and turned away. "Guess I thought fighting you would change things- which it has, though I can't really say it was a fight."<i></i>
 
Edmund nodded. He had thought as much; a young man out to impress the girl he likes, seizes the opportunity to initiate a fight with the man she seemed most keen on. Of course, what this boy had failed to notice was the lack of, for the most part, interest on Edmund's behalf. He had smiled and chatted and flirted, oh yes, but did that mean he was interested in any of the girls here? In recent years, and especially during his time as a Hogwarts professor, Edmund had changed from that young man out to grab any woman to take his fancy, to just being a bit of a charmer, who sought, at long last, something that could make his life complete, the missing link. And he had found her: She was a brunette, with a rougher exterior and a heart that could so easily be ignited to fight for what she believed. Her eyes had been the initial thing that had drawn him to her, so unusual and different. They had met through an 'owl pals' company that aimed to set up global pen pals for witches and wizards who wanted to write to others around the world. The attraction, for Edmund, had first been the fact that a certain ex-girlfriend of his had talked of meeting her husband through a pen pal service. Without a moments hesitation, Edmund had joined, and within months, he had forgotten about it. It was only just as got his position at Hogwarts, that he received his first letter.

"No," Edmund agreed, "not much of a fight, at all. Still," he continued optimistically, "she's definitely started to notice you. Which I find is usually quite helpful. Edmund," he added, holding out his hand to greet this man. Surely there must be some tradition that after a punch in the face, one must exchange pleasantries with the 'enemy'. In his old age, Edmund was keen to help others, keen to give them a fighting chance in love and war. This young man would be his latest pupil, and there would be more of a challenge when it was a muggle concerned. He was not one to turn down a challenge.
 
Jack allowed his hand to instinctively rise up and grasp hold of Edmund's hand. "Jack," he said, giving it a small shake, before releasing his grip. "And I figure it's only helpful when you actually stand a chance. Honestly, if I had your confidence and charm, I would have settled down with the right person, by now." Jack heaved a sigh, before looking back over to the doorway; the girls were back to their dancing, a couple of boys joining them, including Michael who was holding onto the redhead for support so he could actually try to dance. It was terrible dancing. Even Jack could do better, and he was just as inebriated as Michael was.

"How do you do it?" The words tumbled out before Jack had been given the chance to reign them in and push them into a very large bag to dump in some dark cavern, somewhere. His male pride took a slight hit from the words. But maybe it was worth it? It wasn't like he had much pride in the first place. It wasn't like he actually had any chance with Alison, or even her squeaky blonde friend. He decided to push on with it, now that the words were out. If this guy had even one ounce of advice for him, that would be more than his father had given him in a lifetime.<i></i>
 
Edmund wanted to check up on the time. Before entering the house, his eyes had scanned the pocket watch through the darkness, and it had seemed fairly early. Still, early was different for different people. If he wanted to avoid trouble, ideally he only had another half an hour to get this lad ship-shape and ready to go out into the world and find himself a girl to break the heart of. He gave Jack a slight grin before he answered him. "You're very young to be thinking along those lines. Still, I suppose I can help you out." Edmund clapped his hands together. The cuddling couple did not even notice. The passed-out lad twitched in his slumber, but did not awake.

"The way I work with things- well.. worked," he corrected himself, giving a light cough under his breath, "followed a series of golden rules. Some are more obvious that others. One of these rules is never to hunt for someone you can be with, in your own area. I have traveled quite a chunk of the world. I have met many different sorts of people, and I advise that you find a nice french girl, for example, and show her that she needs you, not the other way around." Edmund nodded, glancing back at the doorway. He could see people dancing about, young people having the time of their lives. That was all over for him. At least, it would be, very soon.
 
"Would you like to tell me how I am supposed to- to achieve this magical state of importance in a stranger's life, or shall I just use telepathy?" Jack awaited the fantastic explanation. Something that would change his whole life. And as the two of them talked more, the more relaxed Jack became, the more Jack began to understand where he had been going wrong. He had been far too 'clingy', throwing himself at Alison like that. But it was far too late to fix things with Alison, Edmund soon explained to him, but not too late with her friends. Jack was not particularly keen on the idea of dating any of Alison's friends. The only one of them who didn't annoy him to no end, or cruelly tease him, was the redhead, but as he had already been told by Michael, she was 'not to be taken'. "You can't call dibs on a girl," Jack went on, "that makes it sound like she hasn't got a choice. Admittedly, I'm not interested in Tanya, but if I had been-" His trail of thought evaporated. A side-effect of his drinking too much.

"So you think going abroad is really my best option?" Jack asked at last, his eyes skipping over to the cuddling couple who had finally decided to return to the party. Actually, it was just as well that Edmund had suggested France; Jack wasn't exactly the richest of people, and though he had savings, he had been hoping to invest in his own car. Still, he had a load of birthday money saved up from the last year. Perhaps that was where he ought to be heading? Maybe France, so often represented by travel companies as the country of romance, really was it's label. How would Alison feel if he just upped and left for a long holiday in France? How would she feel if he found someone out there and completely clicked with them? Unlikely though it was, a spark of hope burst into light within the confines of Jack's heart. "When should I go? Should I tell anyone?" Excitement flooded him. He was going to France. He was going to find romance and life.<i></i>
 
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