#writemebb

[aliceindiamonds]

Ghostface x Reader

“Boo!”

I opened my mouth to scream as the locker door flung open to reveal him. Ghostface. Standing there tall, and broad, and dark, like the shadow of a monster.

Not half a second later, his gloved hand clapped against my mouth to silence me. “Shhh, doll. It’s just me and you,” he waved absentmindedly behind him with his other hand. “The others are dead. No point wasting those pretty little screams…” I felt bile rise up in my throat, knowing the pain they must have gone through.

Seemingly spotting my change in demeanour, the Ghostface tilted his mask and examined me. “Oh, but I’ve upset you now. I’m sorry, baby. Would it make it better if I told you it was quick?” It must have been. We’d not been in the trial long. I hadn’t even been hit once.

Terrified, I breathed heavily and quickly through my nose, almost choked by his fingers and by the sickening, metallic smell of blood on his glove. The last time I had been alone with this man he had tortured me to death. My stomach lurched in anticipation.

He withdrew his hand from atop my mouth but didn’t step back, choosing instead to hang lazily into the locker. His mask drew closer, staring and spectral, and I pressed myself as far back as I could to gain some distance. “Have you missed me, doll?”

I didn’t answer, inhaling and exhaling shakily and quickly. This didn’t please him.

In a second, his knife was drawn. He plunged it into the back of the locker, directly at the side of my face- nicking the edge of my cheek.

I heard him exhale behind his mask. “Fuck, doll. I didn’t mean to hurt you. But it’s rude to ignore it when someone asks you a question.”

I gulped. The scrape on the edge of my face was thin and shallow, but a sparkling row of crimson droplets wept from it anyway. I was always a bleeder. Vaccination? Paper cut? Sliced my finger cutting vegetables? It was as if my body was over dramatic, responding in the extreme to any slight damage. “What do you want me to say?” I managed, shakily, forcing myself to look at the two black holes where his eyes were hidden.

“That’s a dangerous question,” Ghostface hummed, stepping back from the locker. “Come with me.” It might have been a command, but he gave me no chance to follow it. His arms reached around me and he lifted me over his shoulder, as if I weighed nothing. I didn’t try to struggle free. I had never been a fast runner.

I closed my eyes, feeling tears barely stay at bay. Killers were killers. I could handle murder now. I could handle these trials. It hurt and it horrified me but I knew the drill. This though? This left me in the dark. Total unknown. Ghostface frightened me like I’d never been frightened before.

What felt like minutes later, I was lowered, somewhat gently, onto a couch. I recognised where we were as the centre of the empty lodge in Ormond. The fire was crackling to the right of me but it didn’t fight the chill I felt when I looked at the man that had carried me here.

A moment later, I found a voice. “When are you going to kill me?”

Silence. Ghostface hovered over me, unblinking and threatening in his black attire and plastic mask. Then: “Soon, I think.”

I nodded, taking in the situation I was in. “I see. Well, can we get it over with?” I asked.

“Why?” Ghostface asked in response, and I frowned.

“Because I don’t want to be tortured?”

“But if it’s not me, it will only be someone else.”

“They just kill me- you do something else.”

“Oh, and what do I do, doll?”

“You take sick, weird pleasure in it.”

Ghostface laughed, I think. He leaned in close to me again, and used his thumb to lift his mask slightly. I saw his chin and jawline, sharp and square and manly, and then felt the wet heat of his tongue at my cheek. Licking the cut he’d given me earlier. The action made an obscene noise. I squeezed my legs together, mortified by the throb I felt below my abdomen.

Close to my ear, he clicked his tongue softly before whispering, “You’re right, I do take pleasure in it, baby. And I’ve taken a shine to you.” He withdrew, and dropped to his knees in front of where I sat. His mask was level with my face and I swallowed loudly, looking at the human features he’d revealed. “Want to see?” he asked, a smirk on his pink, full lips.

I didn’t nod, but he could surely see it in my eyes. I was curious. In response, he reached up as though about to push the mask up. At the last second, he stopped. “Too bad, beautiful.” He pulled the mask down, and with that the shutters closed, the hint of humanity I’d seen disappeared. “We’re just not there yet. And there are some other things I’d rather do first.”

I tried not to let my face betray the disappointment I felt, and looked at the floor. Seconds later, a soft whistle told me to look up, and Ghostface held his knife again. “Now, now. We’re gonna have a little fun.” In his black gloved hand, the knife descended, slowly and carefully to my chest. He stopped when the tip just barely grazed my flesh. “Make your pretty noises for me again, and I promise I’ll reward you, doll.” His other hand rested at my waist, and he stroked my clothed skin with seeming reverence.

With a slash, his silver hunting knife sliced a deep cut across the bare chest revealed by the top I had on. I gasped at the way it stung, fresh and sharp and agonising. The blood spilled almost instantly and began to pool between my breasts, staining the nude bra I wore. He didn’t stop there. Far from it. In fact, his carving was incessant- not too shallow, not too deep, quick, deliberate- as if he were creating a pattern across my flesh. I didn’t beg for mercy, but I felt the tempo of my breathing quicken and slow and slow and quicken and I whimpered softly, surely, melodiously. I let myself cry but didn’t sob. At the sound, the man behind the mask moaned roughly and leaned closer to me.

“You’re perfect,” he groaned as his knife penetrated, slowly, through the jeans I wore and into the thick flesh of my thigh. I felt the blade pierce my skin and delve deeper, deeper, hotter, searing, torturous pain. I cried out, biting my lip and squeezing my eyes shut. “Fuck, don’t close your eyes, look at me-” he twisted the knife until I looked at the black mesh covering his eyes.

With the knife still in my leg, I tried in vain to regulate my laboured breathing. In, out, in out, in out. Ghostface withdrew, settling between my legs on the floor. He leaned his head against the thigh he hadn’t run through before speaking. “Your blood is like something out of a movie, you know,” the man murmured, sultry and slow and dreamy. His breath felt hot against my leg, but that might have been my imagination. Surely my brain had no space to process any more sensation than the pain of being stabbed. “It just pours. Like wine. Shit, when I pull this knife out, you’ll probably go dizzy from blood loss. Fuck…”

“You’re sick.” I managed weakly, feeling pale and tired.

Laughter. Smooth, sexy, sultry laughter. “I’m Danny, actually.” He grabbed the hilt of the knife and ripped it unforgivingly from my flesh.

[aliceindiamonds]

“I’m going to enjoy this…”

Ghostface x Reader (I mean, kind of…) Oneshot

Blood dripped slowly down the side of my face. The cut on my left eyebrow, though not that deep, bled surely and steadily, and the thin, crimson liquid caught on my lashes and blurred my vision.

Above me, the looming dark shadow seemed to twist and mutate with the red stain in my eyes. I didn’t know how long I had been down here, in this basement where the walls seemed to groan with torment, but the monster who had hauled me here hadn’t spoken this whole time.

I was dying. I knew that much. Of course, being here, in this place, meant being intimately familiar with the concept of death. I had died a hundred, a thousand times over. The pain did not subside. The pain did not become normal. I did not grow used to it.

The gash in my stomach was deep. By now, I was surely lying in a pool of my own blood. The figure above me had to know that I was dying too: their fourth and final victim. I had stayed hidden from them for so long, or at least I thought I had…

“P-please… Just kill me.” I begged softly, my voice cracking. Tears brimmed at my eyes and slipped past my waterline, mixing with my blood and descending in soft pink trails down my cheeks. My arms were trapped behind me, and a black, heavy combat boot pressed roughly into my stomach, agitating my bleeding wound and pinning me against the cold, filthy ground. The foot that held me down twisted slowly and deliberately, and I gasped from the flash of agony it unleashed. “Just kill me, please…”

The weight lifted from my stomach. I breathed shakily. But the instant of relief this granted didn’t last long and the dull, throbbing ache of the hole in my abdomen seemed to reverberate tenfold. I was bleeding more heavily now, the makeshift tourniquet that was his dirty boot removed.

The shadow bent their knees, lowering into a crouch beside me and a white mask came into view: a face distorted into a silent scream. I didn’t recognise him, and I knew the Entity must have claimed another for its sick games. “Now, now, doll,” a smooth tenor murmured, voice muffled but firm. “Why would I end our fun so soon?” From his sheath, he drew a shining silver knife that glinted even in the dim light of the basement. His hands were gloved in black leather, dulled by darkened, dried blood. “I’m not done with you yet…”

I whimpered as the blade approached, and I felt its sharp tip caress the side of my face. Down, down, down, down it traced, crossing the skin of my neck and the outline of my rounded breast. The shadow whistled softly, lowly, hungrily. “You’re some woman, doll. They don’t make them like you often…”

Whilst the knife trailed my abdomen lazily, his other hand followed it. His touch was gentle- featherlight- and it made me lightheaded that there was something undoubtedly enticing, something shameful and immodest, that made me feel… something alongside my fear. His hand halted above the puncture in my stomach, and I breathed quickly and unsteadily as he brushed the leather of his glove along the laceration.

Suddenly, he thrust a finger into my open wound.

I gasped, shrieked, writhed. Pain. Hot. Thrash.

My eyes, blinking and squeezing shut, unleashed a fresh wave of hot tears, provoked by the immense agony of his sick action. It was torture. Within me, his finger squelched until he withdrew, holding his hand up and examining it.

His black, gloved forefinger glistened in the dim light. A moment later, he used his thumb to catch the underside of his white plastic mask, which he lifted from his chin- just enough to reveal a sharp, masculine jawline and plump, pink lips. I gulped.

With an indecent pop, he sucked his bloody finger into his mouth and then released it. A drop of my blood trickled past his smirk. He swallowed slowly, pointedly, sensually and I watched, rapt, horrified, entranced, as the tip of his pink tongue darted out and licked the final remnant from his bottom lip. What in the hell was wrong with him?

“Please…” I whined, paralysed by terror, my voice shaking. “Just, please, kill me…”

The shadow man lowered his mask once more and pressed his knife tighter to my chest, reminding me of its presence. I felt its sharp edge nick the fabric of my blouse, encroaching on the flesh beneath. “Go on, baby,” the voice of the man seemed to groan; guttural and feral. The chill of the air and the tone he spoke in made me shiver. “Fuck, I love it when they beg…” The voice behind the mask was silky as it added, deliriously, “I’m going to enjoy this…”

[aliceindiamonds]

5th time’s the charm

Part 4

Part 5 link: https://writemebb.tumblr.com/post/655195482649509888/5th-times-the-charm

There was something about Captain Redfield’s company that made me both nervous and relaxed.

As I filled out the forms on my desk I snuck occasional glances at the hulking man sitting in front of me. He dwarfed the office chair he was sitting in. Since he had entered and the air had settled, I noted that I could smell a musky, spicy scent that must have been him and that was hugely pleasant. Apparently this man was masculinity personified.

He wore a leather jacket with a tight fitting black t-shirt and cargo pants, with what looked like military issue boots. Around his neck he wore several dog tags, and when he stretched they clinked gently together. I thought about the muscles beneath his jacket and chided myself silently.

I filled out another row of my form, aware of every breath I took and every scratch of my pen across the page, before I broke. “So, do you enjoy coming and visiting the offices, Captain?” I asked, breaking our silence.

“Of course. It’s always a pleasure to meet the people on the other side of our operations.” Chris answered, and I hummed gently in response. If he liked it so much, why was he hiding in my office? As if he had heard my thoughts, he continued, “It can get a little overwhelming, is all. I’m not as much of a people person as I used to be.” There was something very telling in his words, and he shrugged his broad shoulders. Of course, I knew of the trauma Captain Redfield had been through. Of what he’d lost. But seeing horror as words on a page versus in reality… I couldn’t comprehend it.

I nodded slowly before speaking. “I get that. Honestly, my job is all about people but outside of my role I’m not so great with them.”

“What makes you say that?”

I resisted the urge to laugh at how deep our conversation had gotten. “People tire me out. They always expect something of you. For you to be clever, or to be funny, or kind… I just like to be.”

Chris nodded but said nothing. I returned to my paperwork, but I was aware of his watchful eyes on me. His gaze made me feel electrified- like a current was running through the air.

Ten minutes later, there was a knock at the door and Robinson appeared again. “My apologies, Captain Redfield, but I really must insist that we get on with your tour!” I rolled my eyes at the pink faced man. Wonder how many times he had to say that to himself before coming in here.

“Of course.” Chris smiled up at him charmingly, and I wondered if having some silence had recharged his social batteries. He looked back at me and I met his steely blue gaze. Electric. His voice was serious and low as he said, “It was really good to meet you.”

“And you, Captain Redfield.”

We shook hands again, and his grip, whilst firm, was strangely tender. “Maybe we’ll cross paths again soon?” He added as he headed for the door.

“I hope so, Captain.” I smiled, before realising what I’d said. Pathetic much.

Chris gave me an interested look and smiled very slightly back. He bit his lip and I felt my stomach lurch at the sight of it. “So do I. See you around.”

My office door closed, and the Captain was gone.

[aliceindiamonds]

5th time’s the charm

Part 1

Link to Part 2: https://writemebb.tumblr.com/post/655053002841948160/5th-times-the-charm

Chris Redfield was not a patient man by nature.

Which was part of why he was happy in the field- acting on impulse, making decisions that mattered. Offices made him itch. Figuratively, not literally. Well, a little bit literally.

Chris scratched the back of his neck, his short and tidy fingernails not quite up to the task. In all his years working for the BSAA, he had visited its UK headquarters a total of four times. Now five. The hum of the air conditioning and the clacking of keyboards swirled around his head and made him feel strangely claustrophobic.

“Captain Redfield?” A tall, beautiful blonde smiled at him with white flashing teeth from behind the front desk. “They’re ready for you now.” She nodded towards the door and Chris gave a small grunt of assent. Her eyes twinkled appreciatively as she watched Chris’s long, burly body rise and stride only somewhat hesitantly towards the board room. The boardroom door swung shut and he disappeared into it.

At the opposite end of the waiting room, a skinny man of average height let out a low whistle. He pushed his glasses up his nose with one hand then used the same hand to stir a cup of tea, clinking the spoon noisily on the pot. He shook his head. “Shit… Now, that’s a man.”

“Klaus!” The receptionist chided with a laugh, before giving the man a winning smile. “I know, right?”

“I’d climb him like a tree.” Klaus smirked, taking a sip of his tea. At that moment, another woman appeared at his shoulder, giving him a look of immense disapproval.

“What are we climbing today?” she deadpanned, frowning as she elbowed gently past him. “Not that I’m sure I want to know.”

“Don’t tell her Anna- she’s no fun.” Klaus said in a stage whisper to the receptionist. The second woman’s frown grew further but she said nothing as she placed a stack of papers on the front desk.

“It’s Captain Redfield.” Anna answered excitedly, pointing to the board room and ignoring Klaus’s tut. “He’s in a meeting with the higher ups but then I think they’re gonna have him tour the office. He looks like he could throw a person across a room.”

“Built like an actual brick shit house,” Klaus added before murmuring dreamily, “I’d pay him to throw me across the room.”

“I wish I could literally throw you across the room.” The second woman muttered, but there was humour and fondness behind her expression. She shook her head and pointed at what she’d placed on the desk, getting ready to head back to her own office. “Those papers are for Tokyo. By this afternoon, yeah?”

“Yes, sir,” Anna teased, crossing her tanned legs and sitting back in her seat. Her three inch stilettos clicked together as she watched the sensible black loafers of the woman walking out of the room.

“You know, for somebody with the title of Relationships Manager it’s shocking that you’re so uninterested in scandal!” Klaus called, clinking his spoon around his mug again.

“That’s the point!”

[aliceindiamonds]

5th time’s the charm

Part 6

Link to Part 1: https://writemebb.tumblr.com/post/655008657267998720/5th-times-the-charm

In the days since Captain Redfield visited the office, the excitement had only just begun to dim. Not that I blamed everyone- I’d let myself get caught up in it too.

I sighed and shook my head. Really, I was disappointed in myself. Years- literal years- I’d worked at the BSAA. Met attractive men- big, solid, muscular men. And managed not to swoon.

Of course, it would be the literal golden boy of the company that cracked my composure. And the issue was that although he wasn’t present, for me he kind of was. 80% of my work centred around his actions and the actions of his teams so it seemed like his last name crossed my lips at least a couple of times an hour. And now, every time it did, I thought of the handsome, hulking human I’d had the good fortune to temporarily breathe the same air as.

The shrill sound of my phone snapped me out of my thoughts. Back to it then. “Good afternoon, BSAA Relationships Manager speaking.”

“Hey, good afternoon. Chris Redfield here.” His voice was rough and low at the other end of the phone, and he said my name softly in greeting.

“Captain,” I answered, surprised. What on Earth was this all about? My mind raced. Did he have a favour to ask? Was there some kind of problem? I knew that he was on location in Bangkok, but he and his team had arrived there only a few hours ago. “Is everything alright?”

“Oh, yeah. All good here. I just wanted to give you a head’s up that you’ll probably be hearing from the consulate here fairly soon- we had a little brush with the local police at an incident in Huai Khwang- nothing to worry about but they’ll probably want some buttering up- you know what they were like last time we were here-“

I laughed gently. “Yes, I do. Thanks for the warning, I appreciate that.”

“Of course. It’s good to hear you again.”

“And you, Captain.”

The line went silent for a moment. “How’s HQ?”

“Same old, same old,” I answered, looking down at my fingernails. I couldn’t help but smile and I wasn’t entirely sure why. “We get on with it. How’s fighting bad guys?”

Chris laughed. “Same old, same old. We’re holed up just outside of the city and we’ve got eyes on our target so it’s just a waiting game at this point.”

I nodded, as if I understood. I smoothed things over politically, but that didn’t mean I had any real intel until long after the squad’s missions were complete. Suddenly, I realised he couldn’t actually see me and remembered to open my mouth and speak. “Of course. That must be hard. Or boring? I don’t know, I guess. I spend so much time talking about you and I seem to have just realised I have no idea what you do.”

“Fight bad guys. Make messes. That about covers it.”

“Ah, so actually I have a pretty comprehensive understanding then,” I smirked.

His voice was silky smooth as he replied, “It certainly seems that way.”

[aliceindiamonds]

5th time’s the charm

Part 3

Link to part 4: https://writemebb.tumblr.com/post/655133546396205056/5th-times-the-charm-part-4-there-was-something

Captain Redfield. I said that name at least twenty times a day every day, but I’d never met him in person. It didn’t really matter. I was good at pretending.

The title of Relationships Manager was more for show than anything. My job was quite simply to clean up messes. Smoothing over was my specialty; mediation and ultimately conflict resolution. The majority of those conflicts involved Captain Redfield himself, and the trail of disruption his team left behind. As much as he was the golden boy of the BSAA, he had a propensity to completely ignore the plans laid out in the office. Not that that bothered me; it kept me in a job. Much of my days were spent on the phone to various government officials, sweet talking and letting them know that dear Captain Redfield never intended any disruption.

My thoughts drifted to the man whose name I must have said a million times. Klaus and Anna were ridiculous, but I had to admit I was naturally curious about meeting him. I’d seen pictures, and I knew he was handsome, and I knew his professional career in detail of course- but his presence would surely be another thing entirely. The thought gave me butterflies and I wasn’t totally sure why.

Currently, I was on the phone to an aide at the Spanish embassy. Redfield’s squad had passed through a rural lab just outside of Murcia a few weeks ago and there had been… an outcry. To say the least. Luckily, as poor I might be in my social life day to day, I was damn good at my job. “…Yes, Mr Hernandez, Captain Redfield will be so happy to hear that. I’ll pass the message on. Thank you very much for your time.”

I set my work phone down onto the table. Another mess cleaned up- now for the paperwork. Just as I reached for a fresh set of forms, there was a tentative knock at my office door. I frowned up at the frosted glass for a moment before calling, “Come in!”

My expression soured even as I tried to school it. Robinson’s pink, smarmy face had appeared at my door. I wasn’t a fan of the guy. It wasn’t that he was bad, per se- just that I found him entirely sycophantic and I couldn’t abide it. Awkwardly, he hesitated in the doorway and twiddled his thumbs for a second. I gave him a cool, expectant face. “Yes?”

“Ah, I’m sorry to interrupt your work, ma’am-” No, you’re not, “-but I have someone here for you to meet.” Robinson stepped into my office and beckoned for the person to follow him in. “Captain Redfield, this is our Relationships Manager…”

It was about all I could do to offer a small smile. Handsome didn’t begin to cover Chris Redfield. The infamous Captain standing in the doorway of my office was so incredibly good looking that it almost took my breath away. He towered at over six feet tall, with broad, masculine shoulders. His soft brown hair was close cropped at the side but longer in the front, and it framed his angular, serious face perfectly. When I met his gaze, his blue eyes were steely and captivating and he gave me a gentle, good natured smile before extending his hand for me to shake.

I scrambled up out of my chair as delicately as I could manage so that I could take his hand. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Captain Redfield.” The older man’s large hand was calloused against mine, but not rough. He squeezed mine firmly in his and I refused to melt- but by god were Klaus and Anna right. I would quite literally let this man throw me across a room.

“The pleasure is all mine and, please, call me Chris,” he said. His voice was a deep, earthy baritone and his accent was smooth, like an expensive whiskey. I nodded, knowing full well I would not have the confidence to call this absolute unit of a man by his first name. “Can I ask, what exactly does the role of Relationship Manager entail?”

“Generally following whatever path you and your squad have been on and cleaning up the destruction you’ve left behind,” I answered with a laugh. “The Spanish embassy says hello, by the way.”

An abrupt inhale from Robinson made me concerned I’d said the wrong thing. I glanced at him and he looked as though he’d sucked all the air out of the room but still might suffocate. Only a moment had ticked by but time appeared to have frozen. Hesitantly, I opened my mouth to potentially begin an apology but when I looked back at Captain Redfield his expression had spread into an amused grin.

“Honesty. I like it,” he laughed harshly, “Yeah, I guess they wouldn’t have been too happy about what went down in Los Rodeos.” He scratched his chin thoughtfully. “All okay now though?”

“Of course. I’m good at my job, Captain.”

“I’m sure.”

Robinson frowned at me. “Yes, well, anyway, the Captain has-“

“Do you mind if I sit?” The Captain asked me abruptly, pointing at the seat opposite my desk. I shook my head, gesturing for him to take it. “Mr Robinson, I think I’ll have to take a break. I’ll come and find you shortly.”

I bit the inside of my cheek to stop myself from laughing as Robinson, now almost entirely fuchsia, shot me a look of complete and utter dislike before he left the room he had effectively been dismissed from.

Redfield lowered himself into the chair opposite my desk and I settled back into my seat. He sighed softly and seemed to relax. I followed his eyes as he looked around my office, feeling oddly exposed. He noticed me watching and said quietly, “Please don’t let me interrupt you. Feel free to keep working.”

I couldn’t help but think I’d have a hard time concentrating with him in the room, but nevertheless I nodded and pulled my paperwork towards me.

[aliceindiamonds]

5th time’s the charm

Part 5

Ongoing Fic

Link to Part 6: https://writemebb.tumblr.com/post/656181723450720256/5th-times-the-charm

For some reason, after Captain Redfield left my office I found myself even more unwilling than usual to venture out across its threshold.

Was I embarrassed? Flustered? I didn’t know. Honestly, all I could comprehend was how he’d seemed to command the room from the moment he entered it, and upon his departure it felt empty. I supposed that was why he was the golden boy of the BSAA. Presence. Charisma. Enormous muscles.

For the entirety of the rest of the day, I didn’t cross paths with him again. Just like that, his fleeting visit to headquarters was over.

I felt strange. I now possessed a level of context and understanding of this man- this man that I spent my days talking about- which I’d never had before. And that should have been a good thing. Right? But it left me feeling something else. Something that I very much didn’t want to call longing.

When I packed up my things at the end of the day, I passed Robinson bragging to Klaus and Anna about his day with the Captain. “He told me he was very impressed with how I conducted his tour!”

Oh, yeah, sure. Anna’s long legs were folded across one another and she’d wheeled her office chair out from behind the front desk to get closer to the conversation. She leaned her elbows on the side and raised an eyebrow. “Do you think he’s single? Did he say anything about a partner?”

Robinson turned pink, as if utterly scandalised by such a suggestion. “This visit was entirely professional! We discussed no such topic!”

Leaning against the wall, Klaus rolled his eyes from where the smaller man couldn’t see him. “I’ve heard he’s like unofficially with Captain Valentine. Has been ever since they were our age. And she’s like, brave and muscly and shit. Plus they have that whole ‘I rescued you from certain doom’ thing going for them. So I don’t think you’re his type, Anna.”

“Psh, I’m everybody’s type.”

I laughed at that because she was right. “Have a good night, you guys!” I called and they waved me off.

When I went to bed that night, steely blue eyes rang through my mind and an earthy baritone voice told me the pleasure was all his.

[aliceindiamonds]

5th time’s the charm

Part 2

Link to part 3: https://writemebb.tumblr.com/post/655078809730777088/5th-times-the-charm

Chris could feel his thick, dark eyebrows threatening to knit together into a frown. Inhaling deeply, he covered the bottom half of his face with his hand for a moment and seemed to rub away the temptation to let his emotions slip. He tried to form a smile but it came out as a kind of polite grimace- better than nothing, he supposed.

Listening to suits who’d never been out from behind their desks was not in Chris’ nature. But he’d been at this job long enough now to know that if he nodded and shook hands with people instead of frowning and disagreeing he tended to get away with what he wanted once he was back in the field anyway. He knew all about giving people the illusion of control.

“…Obviously, the Lanshiang incident was regrettable, but ultimately we achieved the required result…” A flame of anger shot up in Chris’ chest. Regrettable. Regrettable. Biting his lip, he took another deep breath through his nose. Nodded. Thanked Christ he hadn’t listened to his sister’s pleas this morning and put a shirt and tie on because if he had he might have strangled himself with it.

The drone of the meeting went on for about an hour. It ended with a balding, short and enthusiastic man named Robinson announcing that he would be taking the captain on a tour of the headquarters to meet some of the other staff. The urge to roll his eyes and run in the other direction was so narrowly avoided that Chris could actually feel the muscles in his legs tense. Why had he stopped drinking again?

As they passed the waiting room and front desk, Chris noticed that a man had joined the girl at the front desk- they wore identical expressions as they smiled suggestively at him. The metallic clink of a spoon against a mug could be heard. Chris smiled back. He owed it to Claire to at least try to be good-natured today.

The tour started in Weapon Acquisitions. To be fair, this part didn’t bother Chris nearly as much as he thought it would. Robinson seemed to bark at the side of him like an excited chihuahua whenever he introduced him to someone or showed him into a room, but Chris found that he was met with appreciative glances from much of the staff. A young woman with short, cropped black hair excitedly told him about their new RPGs which had a 1000 round lifespan. She held a prototype out to him and Chris nodded and touched it and it didn’t make his stomach lurch. For some reason it lacked it seemed to lack its deadliness, in the cold light of day, in this office.

They moved on through IT, which was two floors worth of people and Robinson was not content for Chris to miss a single handshake, and then on to Communications. It wasn’t surprising that his name held weight. He knew that he was the BSAA’s most prized agent, although sometimes he felt he didn’t deserve to be when it came down to all the lives he’d lost. But those were expendable for the greater good. The thought made him want to punch something and he found himself squeezing a little too tight on a handshake with a weedy ginger man called Terence.

It had been around an hour. Admittedly, his patience, which had been painstakingly acquired through years of work, was now wearing thin. Robinson stopped in front of a frosted glass door which seemed to lead into a small office. He rubbed his little pink hands together and seemed to look at the door with trepidation. “This is our Relationships Manager- we won’t be long, just pop in, introduce ourselves and out-“ Chris raised his eyebrows and let the man ready himself.

A moment later, Robinson appeared to have screwed his courage to the sticking place. He reached out and opened the door.

[aliceindiamonds]

Bound: Fred Weasley x OFC

Part 3

Ongoing Fic

Link to Part 4: https://writemebb.tumblr.com/post/655246667569922048/bound-fred-weasley-x-oc

After about an hour or so, possibly longer, I looked up and, away from the contents of my book, out of the window. Rain was softly pattering against the glass, and beyond the pane lay rolling hills and fine greenery. I sighed softly, watching the outside world pass by at great speed as the train chugged on. The Gryffindors were still talking, about something or other, and I found that there was something quite comforting about their innocent, idle prattle.

Moments later, the door to the compartment slid open again suddenly. Draco was back, and he wore an expression of true disdain. I sighed, knowing what was coming. His wand was drawn, pointing at the Weasley twins, and he had changed into his Hogwarts robes. A shiny new Prefect badge glinted somewhat malevolently on his chest. “Lewin, are these blood traitors bothering you?”

The three Gryffindors drew their wands simultaneously, and I resisted the urge to roll my eyes at the immediate escalation. Draco couldn’t take on three people at once, never mind the fact that these were seventh-years, but he kept his expression hard.

Impatiently, I stood, tucking my book under my arm and blocking the path between the four wands. “It’s fine, Malfoy. There was no room in the other compartments for them.” I shrugged, gesturing at him to lower his wand. “They’re not bothering me.”

He seemed disappointed with my response and did not lower his wand immediately. “Well, now that Pansy and I are busy with our Prefect duties, there’s room with the Slytherins down the hall. That is, if you want to get away from the stench of poverty.” Always with the cutting remarks- it was like he couldn’t help himself. I’d always thought of Draco’s father as a hateful man, and it saddened me to see his son try to emulate him. Thinking you were better than someone was one thing, we were all guilty of that, but making it so obvious, revelling in it even- that was just imprudent.

Both Weasley twins opened their mouths to retort Malfoy’s rudeness, but I cut across them. “I’m alright here, thanks. I’d rather not have to hear about Zabini’s latest stepfather and watch Crabbe and Goyle decimate a million pumpkin pasties. At least I don’t have to pretend to be interested in what this lot says.” I shrugged, and saw an indignant expression play across the faces of the twins.

“Whatever you want, Lewin. Just don’t let them get too close- inferiority catches, or so I’ve heard.” Malfoy turned on his heel and strutted away. I rolled my eyes as I returned to my seat.

The three Gryffindors tucked their wands away once more, looking a little bit dissatisfied with the lack of conflict. The twin who had stopped me from falling earlier shook his head, looking amazed by Malfoy’s viciousness. “Slimy little git, he is, honestly. I would have enjoyed putting his face on the back of his head-” he looked back at me, “-that is, if you weren’t here, Lewin. I’m far too much of a gentleman to do that in front of a lady.” He winked.

“Yes, I see that.” I deadpanned, doing my best to appear thoroughly unamused. It would have been a lie to say that his brand of cheek and charm wasn’t somewhat appealing, though, and I had to admit that the Weasley twins seemed to be not nearly as offensive as I had thought they would be. I thought of the spot on my back where his hand had touched and felt a twinge of embarrassment before banishing the image from my brain. I would not blush.

“He’ll have had a new lease of life after seeing the Dark Mark at the cup; his father probably pissed himself with excitement.” The other twin said, a furious look on his face. Of course, the Quidditch World Cup. I hadn’t been present- I’d been trapped inside the manor with my parents- but I’d heard all about the events in the news. It was probably true that Lucius had been involved.

“He was probably levitating muggles with the rest of them, the tosser,” added Lee, shaking his head. Not true. Draco was only fifteen, like me, and although he tried to be like his father- as many sons do- he was not. I knew he could be unpleasant, and downright cruel- but he wasn’t evil. Just young and callous and stupid.

“He would never.” I said firmly, a dangerous hint in my voice that said don’t talk about Draco Malfoy that way in front of me.

“Whatever you say,” said the standing twin dispassionately, the one who had so cheekily winked at me earlier. He seemed either displeased with my allegiance, or else entirely unconcerned. He reached up into his trunk and pulled out a small, wooden box. “Shall we get on with a little bit of market research then, you two?” He asked the two Gryffindors, who nodded.

“We shall, Fred,” said the other one, getting to his feet. Lee did the same, and they turned to leave.

So, this one was Fred. The one who had both made me nearly fall and stopped me from falling. Fred turned to me briefly and flashed a somewhat dazzling smile. I noticed, again begrudgingly, that he had lovely white teeth, and that when he smiled two small dimples appeared in his cheeks. “See you later then, Lewin.”

I nodded more courteously than I felt inclined to be, a slightly annoyed expression on my face and vaguely heated cheeks, and the three of them disappeared. Market research. What a load of bollocks.

[aliceindiamonds]

Bound: Fred Weasley x OC

Part 4

Ongoing Fic

Link to Part 5: https://writemebb.tumblr.com/post/655813862741934080/bound-fred-weasley-x-oc

The three Gryffindors didn’t return for quite some time. The trolley witch poked her head in at one point and I bought an obscene amount of Drooble’s bubblegum, without anyone around to judge me. One by one, I unwrapped piece after piece, blowing bubbles the size of my head, until the amount of gum in my mouth had formed a huge unpleasant ball. With my wand, I vanished the chewed gum and the wrappers, then repeated the whole process again.

All the while I kept my head in my book, Offensive Strategies to Defend Against the Dark Arts, and tried to wrap my brain around a hex which, if cast correctly, would make the victim’s wand arm flail uncontrollably as all of its bones dissolved. I chewed my gum loudly and wondered if Gilderoy Lockhart had accidentally cast this on Harry Potter in second year.

Time continued to slip past, and I took the opportunity to change into my school robes. I locked the compartment door and cast a quick colour-change spell on its window, swapping it from clear to black, so that anyone walking past wouldn’t be able to see me changing. I summoned my white school shirt, pleated skirt and black robes from my trunk, then slipped the soft blue blouse I had been wearing off my shoulders. I pulled the school shirt on instead, then swapped into to my school skirt too.

When I pulled my school robes on, with their emerald trim, over the top, I felt that good old-fashioned sense of conformity that school uniforms only could give. All were equal now. Carefully, I folded my casual clothes and put them back in my trunk, pulling out my silver and green tie and storing it inside my pocket, not wanting to put it on just yet. Outside the window, the sun had moved further down in the sky and night-time was threatening the start of its descent. I unlocked the compartment door and reversed my charm, then returned to my book in silence.

It wasn’t until darkness had fallen that the Weasleys and their friend bustled back into the compartment, ear-to-ear grins on their faces. I allowed myself a brief glance up and gave them a stiff nod of greeting. “Alright, Lewin?” Fred smiled, leading the other two in and then closing the door behind them. “You know, I almost forgot you were a Slytherin for a moment there, because of how not totally repugnant you are.”

“Rest assured, Weasley, I never forgot for one moment that you’re a Gryffindor.” Purposefully, I let my eyes slip slowly up from his face to his flaming red hair, and then back down again. He followed my eyes and bit his lip, a glint of something I couldn’t quite put my finger on in his own brown irises.

The other twin grinned, noticing my actions. “Cheeky this one, isn’t she, Fred?”

“Definitely, George.” Fred seemed to be studying my face, and I frowned disapprovingly at him. Standing behind the twins, Lee rolled his eyes.

“Hmm...” I murmured, redirecting my gaze back down to my book. It did take a smidge more effort to redirect my gaze from Fred Weasley’s face back to the words on my page than I cared to admit.

Noisily, the three boys rooted through their trunks and pulled out their scarlet trimmed robes, throwing them over the top of the muggle clothes they had been wearing rather than changing like I had. They settled back into their seats, and I caught the occasional word from their conversation as I tried to sink myself back into my book: product, Zonko’s, merchandise, testing, success... I furrowed my brows, trying to not be curious about whatever they were talking about.

Now in their seventh year at school, Fred and George Weasley were a menace to Hogwarts staff, and it had been that way since I started my first year at school. Practical jokes and a rampant need to disobey the rules. Stupid, attention-seeking blood traitors. Or so I’d heard.

As I heard them now, they didn’t seem too bad. Sure, they seemed cheeky and mischievous, and after the way I’d seen their temper flare at Malfoy it didn’t surprise me that he found them incorrigible. He didn’t appreciate people who wouldn’t stand for his bigoted abuse. Personally, I’d never been on the receiving end of a Weasley prank, or of their temper. I tended not to make a target of myself.

I glanced up from my book and peered curiously over the pages, only to immediately meet the deep brown eyes of Fred. He grinned at me knowingly, and I felt my cheeks flush pink. Oh, no. I raised the book up to hide my face and heard him chuckle softly before rejoining the conversation with his brother and friend. I refused to find Fred Weasley attractive.

I didn’t emerge from my book again until the train pulled into Hogsmeade station, and even then I was a little unwilling. The train ground to a halt, and the boys pulled their luggage down. Fred and Lee were laughing about something, and I kept my eyes averted. The other twin, George, reached for my trunk and before I could stop him, he’d hauled it to the floor for me.

“Thank you,” I muttered, taking the handle from him.

“Don’t mention it,” he smiled kindly, and I decided to risk a glance at this other Weasley. George’s face, whilst extremely similar to his twin’s, was slightly rounder and more boyish. They didn’t seem to have a freckle out of place from one another; their eyebrows arched the same way and their hairline was identical- but I noticed that George was a little more doe-eyed than his brother. There was something younger in him, despite them being the same age. I could see how most people struggled so badly to tell them apart. But I liked to think I was a little more observant than most.

I didn’t smile back at George but gave him another nod. I tried to let them go a few paces in front, but George held the compartment door open for me politely so I hurried along behind them. When we departed the train, I fled in the direction of the other Slytherins, realising now that it was safer all along to listen to their vapid talk than to get drawn into the lion’s den.

“See you around, Lewin!” The Weasley twins called, and my cheeks burned again. Thankful for the cover of night, I ignored them and broke into a slight jog to catch up with my housemates.

[aliceindiamonds]

Bound: Fred Weasley x OFC

Part 2

Ongoing Fic

Link to Part 3: https://writemebb.tumblr.com/post/655136418002239488/bound-fred-weasley-x-ofc

My reverie was ended abruptly when my compartment door opened, and a thin, blonde boy with a heart-shaped face looked inside. He was dressed smartly, in a white shirt tucked into black trousers, and emitted a distinct aura of self-assurance. “It’s good to see you, Lewin.”

“Malfoy,” I nodded politely. “You too.”

There was a pause. “How is your family?”

“Fine.” I replied as courteously as I could, but still it came out like a retort. One of Draco’s eyebrows raised in response and I forced myself to politeness. “How are your parents?”

“Very busy,” the blonde said, with weight behind his words. He paused a moment before adding, “It was strange not to see you this summer.” Our families had spent a lot of time together over the years, as pure-blood families often did. But Draco’s father had chosen his allegiance, and so had mine, and a wedge had come between us now.

“Yes, well. It was a strange summer in general.”

“I suppose all our summers will be strange from now on.”

“I suppose.”

Malfoy nodded slowly, then spoke in a measured tone. “If you need anything, I’m around.”

My lips upturned, somewhat involuntarily, into a small, grateful smile. “Thank you for that, Draco. As am I.”

He nodded again, not returning my smile, then left. Strange indeed, I thought, when the compartment door had slid closed behind him and I was alone again. It was highly unusual for him to show concern beyond the aloof politeness we’d had drilled into us from a young age, and yet, somehow I must have elicited his sympathies. I supposed that although our environments had probably been very different this summer, there would also have been much the same. The Dark Lord’s return. A new culture of fear.

With a loud whistle, the train began to move, slowly and then quickly, and the impending solace of returning to school set in further. I leaned my head back against the compartment wall and closed my eyes a moment. I could relax. I could almost feel another smile begin to work its way across my features, but I fought it off. Too much positive emotion was highly un-Slytherin, after all.

With a long train journey ahead of me, and a thus far still empty compartment, I climbed to my feet, deciding to get a book out of my trunk. My short legs and short frame made this more difficult, and I clambered onto one of the seats to reach for the shelf. It was still a little bit of a stretch, but I clung onto the railing of the shelf as I got into position. Once in front of my trunk, I fiddled with the lock and popped it open, all the while making clumsy clattering noises and general noises of heavy breathing- you see, I was fairly unfit. This was due to a combination of things- having house-elves meant that I had too many excuses to be lazy, I found exercise to be utterly abhorrent in any form and also I just generally liked to eat. This was me, and I had accepted that I would never be flat stomach and long legs; I was rounded stomach, little legs. In all the fuss of trying to find my book and hold myself up on the train seat, I failed to hear my compartment door slide open once more.

“Need any help?” An unfamiliar voice rang, and I nearly went flying with the shock of it. A strong hand gripped the small of my back and pushed me back upright.

“I was perfectly fine, thank you, until you scared the living daylights out of me!” I turned, gripping the rail of the shelf tightly where my trunk sat, as I sought out the intruder. Behind me stood three boys, two of whom I recognised instantly as the Weasley twins- very tall with flaming red hair- and the third as their friend Lee Jordan, the Quidditch commentator. One of the twins had his hand still on the small of my back, and his eyes were twinkling cheekily up at me, as though my angry words were the most amusing thing he’d heard all week. He was almost as tall as I was standing on the seat and, I noticed begrudgingly, was roguishly handsome. Warmth seemed to emanate from the spot he was touching me.

“My sincere apologies for frightening you, but this is the last compartment with room for more than two people, so we really had no choice.” He said, smiling warmly. His lightly freckled features were kind and teasing, and his deep brown eyes flickered brazenly.

I shot him a venomous look. “Get your hand off me, Weasley.”

His smile didn’t break for even a second as he retracted his hand. A step behind him, his brother and friend laughed. Fucking Gryffindors. I turned back to my belongings. Finally, my fingers found the book I’d been looking for, and I slammed my trunk shut triumphantly. The Weasley twin who had caught me offered me his hand as I scrambled off the seat, but I didn’t take it, choosing to struggle ungracefully instead.

“Is it alright if we sit in here, then?” The other twin asked, a grin on his face.

“Well, it’s not my train, is it? Do what you want.” Trying to regain some semblance of poise, I took a seat again next to the window and opened my book. The three of them reached up and slung their trunks onto the shelves, then sat down. The carriages sat six, three on either side, and the boys at least had the good nature to give me my space, occupying the three seats furthest away from me. They began a conversation, in low whispers, and I rolled my eyes. As if I was even remotely interested in anything they had to discuss.

Preparing myself for the long journey ahead, I tucked one of my legs under the other and made myself more comfortable in my seat. Once suitably settled, I flicked my book open to the page I’d last been reading and allowed myself to disappear into the pages.

[aliceindiamonds]

Bound: Fred Weasley x OFC

Part 1

Part 2 Link: https://writemebb.tumblr.com/post/655080880677715968/bound-part-2

I gave my grandmother a last-minute wave over my shoulder before I boarded the Hogwarts Express. Peace at last. It made me feel tremendously guilty that going back to school had become an escape from my parents, but that was the truth of it.

Breathing a much-needed sigh of relief, I lugged my trunk along the corridor of the train and peered into compartments to try to find an empty one to set up camp in for the journey. As I trudged further down the train, I passed a compartment filled with my Slytherin housemates, who were engaged in dispassionate conversation. Not wishing to join them, I gave a brief nod and thanked my lucky stars that there wasn’t currently a spare seat for me.

Finally, I found an unoccupied compartment at the far end of the Hogwarts Express. I pulled my heavy trunk in- banging it numerous times accidentally against the edges of the doorway as I tried to angle it through the fairly narrow gap- and closed the door behind me. Once inside, I pulled my wand from my pocket (yew, nine and a quarter inches, phoenix feather, unyielding) and levitated my trunk up onto the shelf above the seats before I took a seat.

Once seated, in silence and alone, reality rolled around me in gentle waves. “Fucking hell...” I breathed slowly, letting the fact that I was going back to school sink in. The summer had been tricky, to say the least. My parents had spent it panicking, constantly on edge, and by extension so had I. Our manor had been placed under so many different wards and protective enchantments that it had been impossible to find, but impossible to leave.

The year was 1994. The Dark Lord had returned and there was no escaping this fact, and this was true for anyone- but for the Lewins, my family, it was an even more sensitive issue. You see, my father had been a Death Eater, once, when I was very small. Just a baby, in fact. Out of fear, out of camaraderie, out of ignorance and a hunger for power- or, indeed, it was likely all of these. As the First Wizarding War raged on, he had begun to wonder if he had chosen the right side. What had started as reclaiming greatness for Wizardkind, upholding tradition and a search for power became pure-blood supremacy and slaughter of all others. Of course, that’s not to say that my father was not a pure-blood supremacist. He was. That sort of came with the territory- ancient lineage, old family name, Sacred 28… However, ‘if slaughterhouses had glass walls’ and all that...

My father didn’t switch sides during the war. When he told me, once I was old enough to comprehend what he had been, he spoke with shame but with real honesty, and I respected him for that. “I was a coward, my little one, and I was afraid of dying. Afraid of the consequences for you and your mother... I knew that the other side would always have more mercy than the Dark Lord.” He told me how he had prayed for the end of the war, and for the downfall of Lord Voldemort.

When this eventually became reality, when I was one year old and Harry Potter had become The Boy Who Lived, my father was put on trial with the other Death Eaters: Lucius Malfoy, the Lestranges, Augustus Rookwood, Warden Macnair…The lot. Like others, he never served a moment in Azkaban, although unlike Draco’s father he pled guilty rather than pretending he had been under the influence of the Imperius curse. Submitting to veritaserum made it clear to the Wizengamot that his actions had been out of fear, rather than zeal or violent bigotry. It also helped that his parents, my grandparents, donated a large, unnamed sum of galleons to the Ministry of Magic. Money speaks.

Over the last fourteen years, we had lived in relative tranquility. Relative. My father was very unwell; the stresses of his former life took a constant toll on him and he was plagued by nightmares, haunted by his past. My mother told me he had never been a particularly ebullient man, but I always wondered what he would have been like if Voldemort had never existed. Perhaps he would have been a better man; perhaps he would have been worse. On the surface, we were a typical pure-blood family. Stiff upper lip, don’t show emotions, emulate confidence at all times- even if you’re scared shitless. I always gave this my best, but sometimes it didn’t feel like me. My mother said that that was just because I was young- I would grow into my civility. This often felt like a lie, though. Because to me, we were not like the others. Or we weren’t anymore. My mother bore no hatred for muggles or muggleborns- my father might have, but he knew the error of his own outlook and this plagued him. It often felt outright wrong for me to put forth this image of being a pure-blooded, traditionalist family when in my reality, under our roof and to one another, we were so much more.

When the Dark Lord returned, at the end of my fourth year of Hogwarts, my father did not answer his call. There had been whispers, whispers since I had begun at school, that this return was on the horizon. It had always been probable. Voldemort had told his soldiers he would be immortal, and my father said that when he spoke of his own power, he had usually spoken true. Fourteen years on from The Dark Lord’s downfall, my father had no intention of playing the role of executioner again.

I thought of my parents now, alone in our manor save for the house-elves. I loved them. I was proud of them; I was proud even of my father, despite what he once was. But still a strong relief at being away from them, away from their sadness and dread, spread through my body warmly. I had lived in fear for the last six weeks. This train journey would lead me to something else. Hogwarts held safety.

[aliceindiamonds]

Bound: Fred Weasley x OC

Part 5: ongoing

Part 1: https://writemebb.tumblr.com/post/655010568952020992/bound-fred-weasley-x-ofc

As September drew to a close, I could see that this year was going to be unlike others at Hogwarts. Defense Against the Dark Arts had become a complete and utter farce, with Ministry toad Dolores Umbridge gate-crashing any chance of us learning anything decent.

At least the lessons we’d had last year with an utter maniac had taught us something- this year it seemed all we’d be learning was how to obey fatuous rules. I dealt with this as best I could- head down, pretending to read quietly. Umbridge was the sort of person whose bigotry was undetectable until it was blinding. Her hatred for the Gryffindors was palpable, and I wondered if that went back to her school years. She had given Potter Friday night detentions for the next eight weeks, purely for his adamance that the Dark Lord had returned- which she labelled insolence and lies.

Anyway, I was not a Gryffindor: I was a Slytherin, and it soon occurred to me that I could probably have slung my head against the table and taken a nap without suffering any consequences from Umbridge. I didn’t take advantage of this. I didn’t appreciate special treatment from people as abhorrent as her. Her claws seemed to dig deeper and deeper into the school as the weeks went by.

In the first couple of days of term, I had noticed the two redheads from the train hiding in corners around the school, little wooden box in tow, talking to other students in hushed tones, and briefly wondered what exactly they were up to- but after the way Fred Weasley’s grin had made me blush, I decided it was safer to stay well out of it. Besides, these sightings grew less and less as the days went by, and I thanked whatever had halted them before my curiosity killed the cat.

***

It was the first of November, and the day of the Slytherin v. Gryffindor match- the first Quidditch match of the year. Of course, like all other things this year seemed to be, it was not destined to run smoothly. That had been clear since several nights earlier, when Pansy and Draco had taken it upon themselves to compose a taunting song to distract the new Gryffindor keeper, Ron Weasley. Apart from being totally immature and unnecessarily mean, it was quite clever really- the Weasleys made up a large portion of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, and everyone knew Potter was basically a new addition to the family. If they could get them all riled up, a Slytherin victory was practically in the bag. I’m not sure the accompanying badges were necessary, however- and no, I did not sport one.

I appreciated the ingenuity. I didn’t appreciate how truly pathetic the whole campaign was. After several rousing choruses of Weasley Is Our King, and witnessing Weasley make some rather spectacular fails, I decided I’d had enough of Quidditch for the whole year. Standing up, I squeezed past Tracey and Pansy, who were so involved in singing that they didn’t even spare me a glance as I left. I shook my head as I walked quickly down the stairs of the stands, emerging at the bottom just in time to hear Lee Jordan shout: “AND POTTER’S CAUGHT THE SNITCH! IT’S OVER FOR THE SLYTHERINS!”

Silently, I was glad. Taunting the way to victory wasn’t my style- it was far too gauche. At the side of the stand, I had a close view of the bottom of the pitch. I didn’t hear the rest of what Lee Jordan was shouting, because I was too absorbed in what was happening with the players who had landed.

Potter appeared to have fallen off his broom, but he was okay. I heard Angelina Johnson saying something angrily about Crabbe, and I stepped a little closer to the pitch and craned my neck to listen. “He whacked that Bludger at you the moment he saw you'd got the Snitch-” she seemed to check her seeker was okay before continuing, “-but we won, Harry, we won!”

Closer to where I was standing, Draco Malfoy landed carefully. His face was white with fury and his body was shaking, but somehow he still managed to sneer cruelly at the other seeker- something pathetic about his chant. The other Gryffindor team members were landing close to Potter, triumphant and excited- all except their keeper, who had dismounted from his broom over by the goalposts and seemed to be making his way slowly back to the changing rooms alone.

Still Malfoy went on, and I caught his words this time. “We wanted to write another couple of verses! But we couldn't find rhymes for fat and ugly- we wanted to sing about his mother, see-” I rolled my eyes and folded my arms across my chest. Part of me wanted to leave immediately and head back for the castle, but I could sense that the situation was about to escalate and I was rooted to the spot. Johnson cast Malfoy a look of disgust, and he continued, pleased with her reaction. “We couldn’t fit in useless loser either- for his father, you know-“

At that moment, the Weasley twins had just moved over to Potter to celebrate, and their faces darkened as they realised what Draco was saying.

“Leave it!” Angelina cried at once, taking Fred by the arm. ''Leave it, Fred, let him yell, he's just sore he lost, the jumped-up little-”

Malfoy’s eyes glinted cruelly, targeting Potter again. “-But you like the Weasleys, don’t you, Potter?” he sneered. “Spend holidays there and everything?” I could see the anger building in the Weasley twins and Harry- the three of them stiffened, their expressions set. “Can't see how you stand the stink, but I suppose when you've been dragged up by Muggles, even the Weasleys' hovel smells okay-”

My nose wrinkled. Honestly, I wondered how he couldn’t hear how utterly classless his words were.

At this point, Potter grabbed hold of George Weasley to hold him back, and it was taking the combined efforts of Angelina, Alicia and Katie to stop Fred leaping on Malfoy. Draco was laughing cruelly. I looked around to see if Madam Hooch was anywhere to be seen, but she was busy berating the brainless Crabbe for the illegal Bludger he’d thrown at Potter.

Malfoy who, as per usual, didn’t know when to stop, forged on with his taunts, leering and starting to back away. “Or perhaps, Potter, you can remember what your own mother’s house stank like, and Weasley’s pigsty reminds you of it-”

The mention of his own mother sent Potter over the edge, and he released the furious Weasley twin he had been holding. The two of them rounded on Malfoy, and I was aware of shouts from the other members of the Gryffindor team- shouts from the stands as well, as Harry Potter’s fist landed a hard blow into my housemate’s stomach. I winced.

George joined in too, and I was alarmed to see hands that had so kindly and politely passed me my trunk and held the door for me on the train act so violently. Draco yelled in pain, the crowd bellowed, whistles blew, and I heard the dull sound of skin thudding into skin. For a moment, I was frozen- disgusted by Draco’s abuse but shocked by the extreme response- until I regained control of my senses and realised I was the only one close enough to do something about what was happening. I drew my wand and yelled, “Impedimenta!”, knocking the boys away from one another. Madam Hooch appeared, gave me a nod of recognition, and then screamed at the Quidditch players. I turned and started back towards the castle.

The Slytherins had begun to pour out of the stands. “Filthy stinking blood traitors- they’re like fucking animals! And that Potter needs locking up!” Pansy raged, pushing her past several people, likely to get a better view of Malfoy. As far as I was aware, he was still lying on the floor, crumpled and bleeding, moaning softly.

I shook my head, still shocked by what I’d seen. I walked back slowly, avoiding the main path so that other students could mill past me, with my hands tucked inside my robes and my scarf tightly wound around my neck. When I reached the edge of the lake, and the beginning of the steep incline towards the castle, I stopped, and studied the murky waters. Generally, I liked to take my time when heading back up to the castle anyway- not only was it a bit of a trek, but the longer I waited the calmer the atmosphere would generally be by the time I reached the dungeons. There was a smattering of large rocks at the lakeshore, some at the perfect height for sitting upon, and I clambered onto one to have a moment of peace.