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Consequences
Topic Started: May 3 2009, 12:34 AM (683 Views)
Alexander Flint
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Alex rarely took note of the effect he had on women. He did not chase them, like many of his male counterparts here at Hogwarts, nor did he go out of his way to use his charms in beguiling ways to lure them in. Lately, his mind had been focused on things that lay outside the castle, not within it, and these preoccupations effectively prevented him from silly trifles that might take away the vital concentration he needed for the goal ahead. The Slytherin girls had learned by now that he no longer held interest in tolerating their attempts to engage him in conversation or other... far less innocent... activities, though it was true that his unsociable behavior unfortunately backfired in some cases and managed to make a few of them even more interested than before, when he actually did tolerate their attentions. Classic cases of wanting what they so very clearly couldn’t have. They were usually the only ones brave enough to approach him anymore, however, while those from other Houses took one look at his perpetually dark expression and unfriendly countenance and ran full speed in the other direction.

Fear… that, at least, was one thing Alex did take note of in other people. He could recognize it as easily as one might recognize a good friend. And yet here was Darcy, a walking contradiction. She was not pursuing him, nor was she running away. She played the game, but there was an apprehension beneath her confident exterior that could have easily been interpreted as fear. He was impressed by how well she hid it, though. Anyone else surely wouldn’t have noticed it at all.

But even Darcy couldn’t hide the flush on her cheeks. Just as Alex couldn’t hide the spark of interest in his stare.

Blinking, she shifted and lit her eyes upon his offered hand with distinct wariness. Alex watched her every move like a hawk, wondering if this would be her breaking point. The game was getting more serious now. If there were a time to run, now would be it.

“I find that hard to believe,” she said after a moment, ignoring his hand for now, though a pensive line formed between her brows; the only outward sign of her uncertainty. Her eyes met his and within them he saw that cool indifference she was so very good at affecting when the need arose. “About you rarely being wrong, I mean. Besides, you’ve been making a large amount of incorrect assumptions about me thus far,” she added confidently, the line disappearing as a brow rose almost imperceptibly upward, a quiet challenge for him to disagree.

Alex kept his expression unreadable save for the slight grin, purposely mysterious. It would have been impossible to deduce whether it meant he was amused and allowing her the point because she’d been correct or amused at her folly for being so quick to assume such a thing. The truth, of course, was that she was partly right. At the onset of their first meeting, he’d been proven wrong about her more than once. But Alex was a fast learner. And he wasn’t wrong about this. The only proof he needed to back it up came in the color pink and the sound of a hitched breath.

Only a matter of time, really.

Resolvedly keeping silent, Alex used his patience to his advantage, saying nothing as he waited for her to act, watching her pride push her over the edge. With a slight grimace of annoyance, Darcy rolled her eyes and placed her hand into his.

“Unfortunately for you, we do,” she said as her fingers curled around his own. Alex’s grip tightened slightly, encompassing her much smaller, much softer hand in an action that seemed to bind their words with an almost ominous resonance. His grin widened in a flash of white.

“But what I would really like to know,” she went on, her own lips beginning to curve into an impish smile, “Is what I get when I win?”

They had yet to release their hold on each other, and Alex made no move to, as though the wager wouldn’t be complete until he answered her question. The confidence brimming at the edges of her grin caused his own to take on a derisive curl, though amusement still shone clearly in his gaze.

If you win, darling,” he clarified. “And I suppose I’ll be generous.” He paused as though contemplating, even though he knew exactly what he was doing. As he studied her, his eyes began to glitter with something playfully malicious.

“In the highly unlikely event you emerge victorious,” he continued evenly, his tone purposely neutral, “I’ll waive both of the debts you owe me and let you off without another word. And you’ll forever after be rid of my odious presence.”

The last was said with the barest hint of mockery, though his expression remained quite serious, even with the grin still lingering. And though the question still remained as to what he would receive should he be the one to win this little wager of theirs, he purposefully held off in continuing as he awaited the storm that was almost assuredly brewing in the wake of his revelation.

That, of course, being that she owed him two debts instead of the previous one.
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Darcy Bishop
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Alex held fast to her hand, keeping them suspended in an awkward embrace. She wondered distantly if he noticed the difference between her calloused hand, toughened by years of handling hanging on to a broomstick, and the soft, delicate ones of his Housemates. If he did, she wondered if he minded. Not that it mattered, after all. Better that he did so he would relinquish her hand faster.

“If you win, darling. And I suppose I’ll be generous,” he replied. The words did nothing to smother Darcy’s confidence, quite the opposite in fact. It was no secret that Darcy Bishop was one of the most competitive people one was every likely to meet. She practically lived to best people. She was a fierce competitor, a sore loser, and absurdly confident in her own abilities. The thin smile curled into a larger, doubtful grin. “Sure, do that if you want to sabotage yourself,” she inserted quickly with a shrug.

“In the highly unlikely event you emerge victorious, I’ll waive both of the debts you owe me and let you off without another word. And you’ll forever after be rid of my odious presence,” he continued, an evil glint to his bright eyes.

Her reaction was immediate, even before he had finished his sentence her eyes had alighted on his with outrage, her mouth already parting to refute his egotistical claims.

Both!” she repeated the word in outrage, tightening her grip on his hand and giving a quick jerk so that he was forced to move towards her or fall. She continued unconcerned. “I don’t believe there ever was a first debt, sweetheart,” she stated in a sharp tone, her eyes blazing as if on fire. “And where the hell did you get the idea I owed you another one? Please, Flint, allow me the entertainment of knowing which event you have completely misconstrued. I’m dying to know.” The blue of her eyes had darkened considerably as she sat on the case simmering. She swore the boy was so arrogant half the world must have been in his debt.

“Honestly,” she muttered exasperatedly, turning her mocking eyes on him. “Oh dear,” she spoke, feigning distress as she covered her mouth with her hand, eyes widening to the size of saucers. “I just looked at you!” She brought her arms up before letting them plop into her lap in an over exaggeration of defeat. “I guess that’s debt number three.”
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Alexander Flint
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Ah, there it was. Darcy Bishop’s famous temper. The one that supposedly had boys twice her size diving around corners just to get out of her way.

Both!” she echoed incredulously, fury mottling her expression into various shades of red. Her blue stare darkened in disbelief as her grip on his hand grew vice-like, jerking his arm forward sharply. Alex gave no outward reaction to the wild change in her. His stare was as patient as hers was furious.

“I don’t believe there ever was a first debt, sweetheart,” she snapped, spitting out the endearment like venom. “And where the hell did you get the idea I owed you another one? Please, Flint, allow me the entertainment of knowing which event you have completely misconstrued. I’m dying to know.”

Speaking of entertainment, Alex was having a rather enjoyable time watching her show off her true colors and leave that indifference behind. Mentioning the debt obviously hit a sore spot—which was, of course, why he continued to bring it up in the first place.

“Honestly,” she muttered under her breath, sending a loathsome glare his way. One that quickly shifted into an melodramatic display of worry as she covered her mouth with her hand. “Oh dear. I just looked at you!” And then, more derisively, “I guess that’s debt number three.”

Humoring her, Alex gave a mildly insincere smile. “Charming,” he drawled. Their handshake broken, he seemed to grow bored of remaining in one spot and fell into a slow, leisurely pace before the shelf Darcy was still seated upon, not sparing her a glance. His response came shortly after.

“There was a first debt, however,” he countered calmly, everything about his demeanor relaxed. “I’m sure I don’t have to remind you how your distinct lack of anything close to resembling manners cost me my last cigarette.” A very wry grin briefly lifted his lips at that. “But very well, if you find my reasoning so utterly objectionable, I suppose I’ll simply assume no real offense was meant and forgive the whole thing. Debt Number One will no longer exist,” he conceded with a flippant wave of his hand. Almost as soon as the words had left his mouth, however, he paused mid-pace and all traces of the grin faded. Alex’s expression quickly became unreadable, the only life upon it the faint glimmer in his sky-colored stare.

“Unfortunately, I don’t take the matter of the second debt quite as lightly.” He stood in place now, facing her tall and straight. “Shall I tell you why?” he asked quietly, neither expecting nor waiting for a response as his stare darkened and lips lifted in an unfriendly curl. Only then did he begin to approach her again, very slowly.

“If you had listened to me yesterday, neither of us would be here right now.” His words were spoken in a very even tone, hinting at condescension and carrying within them a slight edge. “I took a great risk in trying to do you a favor, and it was one that went thoroughly wasted. So you see, love, not only have you greatly inconvenienced me, you’ve soiled my sparkling reputation.” His grin briefly widened, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “And I hold you singularly responsible for both.”

Coming to a stop before her, Alex gave her a patient stare. Everything about his countenance showed that he was quite serious. And he was, too. Like her or not, Alex was going to have a lot of trouble ahead when news of this little misstep got out. If she’d heeded his warnings, none of this would have happened in the first place. And that was a fact he could not nor would not ignore.

“I suppose this is the part where you tell me how blatantly I’ve… what was it you said?” He paused as though to recall, brow furrowing as his eyes turned upward. “Ah. Yes.” A look of recognition passed across his features before he continued with a dry voice and a bored stare.

Misconstrued things.”
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Darcy Bishop
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“Charming,” was all he said to her outburst.

Her chest heaving frantically, Darcy watched him pace back and forth in front of her. Charming? She would give him charming alright. Charm the wits right out of him with a well-aimed trophy. Hell, might as well dump the whole case on him at this point. Her hand twitched by her side as if she in fact held a wand and was able to do just that. Instead, she was forced to sit by idly and listen to his response.

“There was a first debt, however. I’m sure I don’t have to remind you how your distinct lack of anything close to resembling manners cost me my last cigarette.” Darcy rolled her eyes. Of course she knew what the first debt would be. It was only one of the most trivial debts in the world. She still maintained that she had done him a favor in stomping his last cigarette into a mash of tobacco, rat poison, and grass. Besides, that had come out of his pocket. Who knew where it had been.

The Slytherin brothel, most definitely.

“But very well, if you find my reasoning so utterly objectionable, I suppose I’ll simply assume no real offense was meant and forgive the whole thing. Debt Number One will no longer exist,” he said, the grin fading from his lips immediately after the words had left his mouth. Darcy’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. Oh hell no was he giving in that easily. Not Mr. I’m-going-to-hold-a-vendetta-against-you-over-a-murderous-tube-of-shit-and-pester-you-about-it-for-the-rest-of-your-pitiful-life Flint. Sure enough, Alex’s expression underwent a severe transformation.

“Unfortunately, I don’t take the matter of the second debt quite as lightly. Shall I tell you why?” he asked her, face darkening. Darcy deemed it unnecessary to provide an answer. He was undoubtedly going to tell her his reasons whether she wanted them or not. Assuming a long, never-ending explanation, Darcy moved to situate herself in a more comfortable position. Placing her hands behind her, she leaned back slightly, tilting her head as she gazed at him with a lazy expression.

“If you had listened to me yesterday, neither of us would be here right now,” he spoke in a disdainful voice as he approached her. Darcy’s eyebrows rose in open disbelief as her body stiffened. Who the hell did he think he was taking that tone of voice with her? Just a little closer and he was going to have a painful wake-up call to just who it was he was speaking to, and it was going to start in his lower regions.

“I took a great risk in trying to do you a favor, and it was one that went thoroughly wasted. So you see, love, not only have you greatly inconvenienced me, you’ve soiled my sparkling reputation. And I hold you singularly responsible for both.” Her own expression darkened considerably, especially at his show of repeating her words.

“I suppose this is the part where you tell me how blatantly I’ve… what was it you said? Ah. Yes. Misconstrued things.”

“Poor baby,” she said in a nearly malicious tone that did not hold the slightest ounces of pity. A thin smile crossed her lips. “Ashamed you landed yourself in detention? Not the perfect Slytherin anymore?” she asked cruelly. Her eyes glittered as she pushed herself up and leaned forward, the smile vanishing quickly, all traces of play gone.

”You’re an arrogant bastard,” she spoke in a dangerously low voice. “I never asked you to risk anything for me, and you know it.” she continued fiercely. “So don’t you dare blame your tarnished reputation on me,” she warned him, pinning him with her stare.

If he knew what was good for him, he would heed her warning. Darcy didn't take lightly to being blamed for events that were not entirely her fault. In fact, if there was one thing that she hated as much as birds, it was misplaced blame.
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Alexander Flint
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The thing about entertainment was that not all forms of it were healthy.

Fun was something that was quite easy to misuse. It also wasn’t generally a term often found in Alex’s daily vernacular. There was a reason for his almost perpetual state of boredom. Things came too easily to him. Anything he wanted, he got, with very little challenge or effort. It helped, of course, that this was hardly even necessary most of the time. Alex had long since taught himself not to give in to the pull of amusement that would have otherwise distracted him from his path.

But Darcy was a pull that was nearly impossible to ignore. A challenge too enticing to release entirely. And it was one that was the very epitome of “unhealthy.” Already, she’d caused him to veer from his own strict rules. Suddenly it was very easy to remember why he’d distanced himself from everything and dulled his feelings down until indifference was the emotion that personified him. But indifference hadn’t been the reason he’d warned her yesterday instead of stepping back and allowing Julian to have his go at her.

The big question, then, was what had?

“Poor baby.” Darcy’s hiss refocused his stare on her angry countenance. Anger that was building quickly, he saw, tempered into life by his speech. It appeared she didn’t agree at all with what he’d had to say. She smiled cruelly as her tone turned taunting. “Ashamed you landed yourself in detention? Not the perfect Slytherin anymore?”

Alex said nothing, meeting her stare levelly. There was a reason this detention would prove troublesome for him, and it had nothing at all to do with shame. The consequences, should specific details reach certain ears, would be grave. But he’d deal with that when it came. For now, he’d let her believe all of this came down to a bruised ego.

“You’re an arrogant bastard,” she went on, coldly this time and with no trace of the humorless smile from before, her eyes boring into his with unconcealed loathing. “I never asked you to risk anything for me, and you know it. So don’t you dare blame your tarnished reputation on me.”

Though her words held truth, Alex still felt that same, telling heat begin to prickle the underside of his skin that he had yesterday in her presence. No, she hadn’t asked him to help her, but if he hadn’t stepped in there was almost no question that the situation would have ended far less diplomatically than it had—which is saying something, especially due to the fact that it hadn’t exactly ended diplomatically in the first place. She also hadn’t improved things by lashing out instead of taking his advice. The needless resistance from her was what had caused his temper to rise then. And it was what caused it now.

“An arrogant bastard I may be, but at least I’m not a fool,” he finally replied, his tone as low and dangerous as hers had been. “If you go rushing into every fight the way you did yesterday without bothering to recognize the strengths of your opponent, you’re going to walk out of them with a hell of a lot more than a black eye, and maybe not at all.” He stared pointedly at the fading bruises on her face, remnants from the already infamous Quidditch match that had also occurred yesterday. Child's-play in comparison to what she’d unwittingly faced afterward.

“It’s not a nice world out there, darling,” he went on, expression darkening and eyes holding a look of knowing. “People aren’t going to admire you for that ostentatious pride of yours. They’re going to take advantage of it.” He spoke evenly and with confidence, a voice that rang with a deep, if not unpleasant, truth. He should know. He was one of those ‘people,’ after all. Alex could spot another’s weakness within five minutes of interacting with them. Reilly’s had been anger. Darcy’s was pride.

But he hadn’t taken advantage of it. He’d tried to stop her from letting it get her into trouble. Why, of course, was the big question, and it was one that had secretly plagued him for the past twenty-four hours. Perhaps the entertainment Darcy provided was simply a drug. One he’d obviously need to quit soon. Very soon.

But not yet.

“I did you a favor yesterday, whether you asked me to or not,” he continued quietly. “Now, where I come from,” he idly took a small step towards her, “that sort of thing merits a gracious attitude.”

Not that he actually expected her to start thanking him. Hell would turn into an icy tundra before that happened.

“So, either you can find a way to repay me for my kindness,” he smiled in a way that showed fairly clearly how well he knew the statement would get under her skin, “or you can take my wager and potentially be rid of this mess entirely with that beloved pride of yours completely intact.” He gazed at her with blue eyes that glittered as his tone turned tauntingly velvet.

“Surely an easy decision for someone as confident as you…”
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Darcy Bishop
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“An arrogant bastard I may be, but at least I’m not a fool. If you go rushing into every fight the way you did yesterday without bothering to recognize the strengths of your opponent, you’re going to walk out of them with a hell of a lot more than a black eye, and maybe not at all,” he told her in a dangerous tone that matched her. His eyes traveled over her fading bruises and she was forced to clench her hands into tiny fists to keep herself from covering her face with her hand.

“I knew exactly what I was doing,” she snapped quickly, her chin raising a fraction as she fixed him with a scornful stare. She could take care of herself, thank you. She didn’t need Jack, let alone this… Slytherin taking care of her. Perhaps if they would finally realize this, she wouldn’t be put into such hazardous situations all the time.

Or she still would; only they’d last longer.

“It’s not a nice world out there, darling,” he was continuing, talking to her as if she was a five-year old. She already knew she wasn’t supposed to take candy from strangers, though Darcy’s motto had always been to knock the stranger out and then safely take the candy and run. Apparently, Alex had yet to figure out the true Darcy. The true Darcy who would do whatever the hell she wanted, whenever the hell she wanted, and never regret any of it. The more that it broke from the norm, the better, in her opinion. If this killed her, than so be it. At least she would have lived her life the way she wanted to. Eyeing Alex, she felt a twinge of unexpected pity for the boy who lacked the control over his own life. As quickly as the glint had appeared in her eyes, however, it had vanished at his next words.

“People aren’t going to admire you for that ostentatious pride of yours. They’re going to take advantage of it,” he told her, as if he had personal experience. She didn’t doubt for one moment that he had used others. That’s what Slytherin’s were always doing, anyways, using each other for their own personal ambitions. It was loathsome. It was cruel. Not even a bird would stoop so low.

And he definitely did not know her at all. Nobody in their bloody fucking mind would attempt to take advantage of her. She would like to see them try, see how sore they were in the morning. Probably wouldn’t be able to walk straight, if at all, for the next month at least.

“Why thank you for the life lesson, father,” she responded dryly, attempting to appear bored though there was a bitter undertone to her every move. “Will it be the birds and the bees talk next?”

”I did you a favor yesterday, whether you asked me to or not,” he continued, seemingly ignoring her interjection. Sad panda. She was looking forward to that speech.

“Now where I come from that sort of thing merits a gracious attitude.” She watched as he took a step closer to her, wondering if he actually thought he was being funny. Perhaps funny wasn’t quite the word she was looking for. Serious? Sane? The day she was “gracious” towards him was the day she sat down to a cup of tea with Shaw… and didn’t end up throwing it on her.

”So, either you can find a way to repay me for my kindness, or you can take my wager and potentially be rid of this mess entirely with that beloved pride of yours completely intact.”

His taunting gaze held hers, glittering with the satisfaction of having backed her into a corner. The frown that appeared on Darcy’s face was almost immediate. She definitely would have preferred the bird and the bees.

“Surely an easy decision for someone as confident as you…” he trailed off, leaving a very disgruntled Darcy peering back at him with an expression of displeasure prominently written on her face.

“That’s not even a choice,” she declared, crossing her arms and turning her face away so that she didn’t have to look at him. “I’m not repaying kindness that I neither needed nor wanted.” Her mouth clamped firmly shut as soon as the words had left her mouth, refusing to give him the privilege of hearing her consent to the wager.
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Alexander Flint
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He had backed her into a corner. And he knew it. Perhaps he was making up for failing to do so before, but whatever the case, Alex was finally falling back on old practices and using his opponent’s (in this case, the enormously pleasant and genial Darcy Bishop) weaknesses to her distinct disadvantage. She was much too attached to her dignity to stoop to repaying him—a Slytherin—for a favor that had been unwelcome in the first place, nor would her pride allow her to turn down a wager, lest it be assumed she was doubtful of emerging victorious. So it was as he said. An easy decision. And one she was not the least bit happy about if her scowl was any indication.

“That’s not even a choice,” she replied, confirming what he’d already suspected as she deftly turned her face away from him. “I’m not repaying kindness that I neither needed nor wanted.”

Though he felt a small, rewarding sensation of victory in response to these words, it was a feeling that also happened to be unfortunately marred by a slightly more pressing prickling of irritation. The conviction in her tone was what did it. Resolute steadfastness that openly displayed how fervently she believed she hadn’t been in any danger whatsoever yesterday. And that she wholly disregarded his actions as anything close to resembling generous or helpful. His mouth formed a thin, unmoving line and it was very difficult indeed for Alex to resist the urge to show her just how wrong she was. But perhaps that was a display better suited for a different day.

“You must be very confident in your skills with a wand to make such a decisive statement,” he finally observed, somewhat thinly. His eyes made a short appraisal of her averted face before turning away himself, idly resting his stare on a particularly ancient trophy on one of the shelves. “That, or you have an unhealthy affinity for flirting with death.” He turned towards her again, unwaveringly meeting her gaze.

“You can’t deny it’s an easy thing to assume, after all,” he added, nearing her slowly. “Antagonizing Slytherins… engaging in fistfights a hundred feet in the air… makes a person wonder, you see. Because I know for a fact you’re an intelligent young woman. So tell me, Bishop,” he said, stopping right before her, voice lowering to a cadenced quiet. “Is life so dull you need to brush the depths of danger in order to stimulate it?”

If so, she’d come to the right place.
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Darcy Bishop
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Obstinately refusing to meet his eyes, Darcy could merely listen to his thin words and guess at what his facial expression was. “You must be very confident in your skills with a wand to make such a decisive statement,” he told her in a tone that held the undertones of disapproval. Blue eyes rolled in an open display of scorn. He must be very confident in his ducking skills to imply any of her skills were in need of improvement.

“That, or you have an unhealthy affinity for flirting with death.” She stiffened, fingers digging into her arms from where they remained crossed over her chest. Slowly, flashing eyes rose to meet his steady stare. Her lips immediately descended in a frown as he neared her.

“You can’t deny it’s an easy thing to assume, after all. Antagonizing Slytherins… engaging in fistfights a hundred feet in the air… makes a person wonder, you see.” He could go on wondering as he damn well-pleased. “Because I know for a fact you’re an intelligent young woman.” What the hell? Was that a compliment? Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “So tell me, Bishop, is life so dull you need to brush the depths of danger in order to stimulate it?” he finished in a low voice. She realized that during his speech he had once again moved himself so that he stood directly before her. Her eyes smoldered, but her tone was sarcastic with nearly indistinguishable traces of mockery when she spoke.

“I suppose you could say that. You look like death and I was flirting with you, so there you have it.”

Her eyes fluttered shut as she pinched the bridge of her nose in an obvious display of feigned distress. “I didn’t want to have to tell you this until our fifth date, but,” she heaved an over exaggerated sigh full of misery. She slowly opened her eyes as she leaned forward towards him. “You know how people are addicted to crack? Or Tinker’s chocolate cake? Or trollops in your case?” She lowered her voice to a dramatic whisper. “I’m addicted to danger.” With this announcement, she suddenly threw her hand to her forehead. “I always feel the need to, how did you put it, stimulate my life by deliberately throwing myself into perilous situations.”

“Go on,” she lamented, “Sign me up for danger rehab. Merlin knows I obviously need help.” Contempt and amusement battled for control over her face as she regarded him coolly. In all honesty, the show of mockery and sarcasm that she had just performed (a stellar performance, if she did say so herself) was a rather showy defense. He had hit one of the only sensitive nerves that she had, one that she was constantly ridiculed for, especially by her family. How many times had she been criticized for putting herself in harms way? Her mother had sworn that she would be dead before she turned ten (and it didn’t help matters when Darcy, on her tenth birthday, decided to pretend as though she had fallen out of a tree and died). She liked taking risks and she enjoyed the surge of adrenaline that accompanied them. It was just a part of who she was. Why did everybody always have to be constantly badgering her about it?

It had reached the point where she couldn’t make herself become angry over the scorn anymore. There was just an empty bitterness, one that had been present in the background throughout her entire routine.

And maybe life was dull without the rush of danger that she added to it. Maybe if she had never been such a daredevil, she would have missed out on many great experiences of her life.

Maybe she never would have met Alex.
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Alexander Flint
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Alex suspected the answer to his question before he was even finished asking it. It was a wonder he hadn’t seen it before, really. Her pride was not the only thing driving her, as he’d previously assumed. There was something else, too. Darcy wasn’t the sort to just walk through life. She burned through it. She needed more out of living than the average person did, but she was alive. And that wasn’t something to be scorned or scoffed at. Even he couldn’t deny that.

Perhaps he knew that more than anyone.

Quieted by this revelation, he stared at her with a new intensity… like he was looking at her for the first time. Her walls came up, as he knew they would, and she covered her reaction to just how correct he’d been with her usual mocking glances and sarcastic remarks. Her seemingly lighthearted tirade went almost unnoticed by him, so caught up was he on dwelling on this new idea. The words were meaningless, anyway, because they weren’t her. The real Darcy was the one behind all of that. The one who was bitter and tired of people trying to tie her down.

And why shouldn’t she be?

Without realizing it, his gaze turned away from her, stoic and unfocused. Something was shifting inside of him. A door was creaking open that had been sealed shut for years… a door he hadn’t even known existed. It was not a bright, blinding epiphany. The reveal would take a bit longer than that. But it had begun, and Alex felt a very unfamiliar sensation start to creep at the edges of his consciousness.

Later… much, much later… he would recognize this as the moment when his life changed unalterably.

“Go on,” Darcy’s voice called him back as she finished her show, “Sign me up for danger rehab. Merlin knows I obviously need help.”

His eyes flickered upward, flitting across her cool expression and the derisive curl of her lips before traveling down, lingering on the milky skin of her arms and the small indentations there that were fading slowly. Frowning, he turned away.

“You don’t need help,” he finally said, quiet and in a tone holding none of the mockery that had characterized his behavior throughout the night thus far. “Guidance, maybe. But not help.”

The strange feeling was growing more intense now, urging him to recognize it. Identify it. He moved away from her slowly, and the words came from that place inside of him he was trying so hard to analyze. It was like it wasn’t really him saying them. Or like nothing he’d ever said had been him until this moment.

“There’s something to be said about being able to feel such a thing. People often take it for granted.” His tone was soft and hollow as his eyes stared unseeingly at a discolored stone upon the opposite wall. The moment felt ethereal and dreamlike. Perhaps any moment now he would awaken and return to his old self. But the longer he stood there… the more seconds that passed… all of it made it clear this was no dream.

“Be grateful you feel it at all,” he went on, breaking the quiet, eyes still averted from her. “Not all of us are so lucky.”

Something like remorse tugged at his heart. He repelled it, snapping out of his strange reverie with a blink and slight shake of his head, but not before a small piece of the puzzle had fallen into place. This unexplainable pull he felt towards her… the reason, or part of the reason, anyway, that he hadn’t been able to get her out of his mind… it was because he envied her. Darcy was free in a way Alex had never been. Could never be.

Darcy was life. And he was the wraith that grasped for her with pale and useless fingers. Forbidden and forever unreachable.

Troubled, he turned his back on her, shutting her out. Falling on instinct that screamed at him to forget what he’d just realized… forget her. Emotions made you weak. Emotions opened you up for attacks. Life was not to be felt, life was to be conquered, like an enemy. She was meant to be conquered. She was an enemy.

Inside, a battle waged. And for the first time in his life, Alex feared it was one he was going to lose.
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Darcy Bishop
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If Darcy had expected Alex to be amused by her show of mockery, she was in for a surprise. The quiet, assuring tone held no traces of ridicule as he responded with, “You don’t need help. Guidance, maybe. But not help.” Darcy was momentarily taken aback by such a reply. She hadn’t actually meant she needed help. Horror dawned inside of her at the apparently real prospect of him shipping her off to “danger rehab”, if there even was such a thing. Thank Merlin, he didn’t believe she was in need of help help, just guidance help. Indeed. And did he think that he was going to be her counselor because she did not see that ending very well. She opened her mouth to relay this information to him, but he cut her off, causing her to choke at his next words.

“There’s something to be said about being able to feel such a thing. People often take it for granted,” he said in a strange voice, one that sounded almost dead. It sent a chill up her spine as she unconsciously gripped the edges of the case she still sat upon. “Be grateful you feel it at all. Not all of us are so lucky,” he finished, refusing to meet her gaze as he turned away from her. She felt as though she had just been slapped in the face, and not only because he had just decided he wanted to be Buddha or Confucius or something. It was like he had managed to build a wall between them in the last twenty seconds. A cold, hard, imposing wall.

Frustrating, angsty son of a bitch. And while others may have left him to wallow in self-pity, Darcy felt compelled to bring reality crashing down about his head.

“Oh don’t pity yourself, Flint,” she snapped, “You can feel whatever you damn well please.”

His back remained turned away from her, causing her eyes to flash menacingly behind narrowed lids. What, was he going to ignore her now? An uneasy feeling of annoyance overcame her at this, and she desperately tried to squash it. She shouldn’t care this much over a stupid Slytherin refusing to answer her… refusing to look at her… refusing to turn around…

“So what is this then? Are you going to pretend like I don’t exist now?” A cold silence answered her. In a moment of pure Darcy temper, she sprang off the shelf and stomped over to where he stood, practically bursting with an abrupt flare of passion.

“Hey,” she tried to recall him. Silence. “I said hey!” she exclaimed again, frustration lacing her tone as her hand shot out almost reflexively to grab the spot above his elbow in a tight grip. His reaction was immediate, but she could have cared less as she met his gaze with an unwavering stare of her own. He didn’t want to look at her? Well too bad. Darcy would not be shut out. She would make him see her.

“You don’t get to do that,” she hissed, cheeks reddening in aggravation. She held his eyes resolutely, her own blue having darkened to the color of a stormy sea. “You think you can cast me off because I have something you don’t?” she continued, the words spilling forth in a fast, tight voice. She jerked his arm slightly as though to help emphasize her words. “Well you can’t, so you can fucking deal with it!”

Searching his face, Darcy suddenly seemed to realize that it was a Slytherin who was getting her all worked up. An unhappy, slightly confused frown adorned her lips as the normal flat tone edged its way back into her voice. “Don’t be a baby, Flint.”
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