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| Tweet Topic Started: Mar 11 2011, 10:08 PM (740 Views) | |
| Saoirse Matthews | Mar 11 2011, 10:08 PM Post #1 |
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It was imperative that she didn’t die. That was rule number one. Rule number two was to make sure that no one that she loved died. The cruel part was that sometimes rule number one had to trump rule number two. In the case of the battle that broke out in Hogsmeade, Saoirse had to choose herself over those that she loved. She had to keep a promise that she made to her father. She had to choose to fight for Reed’s cause. Though her heart really belonged with everyone she loved on Reynolds’ side. Sebastion. Silas. Most of their friends. Everyone. But her decision was reached the moment that Reed’s gang cornered her outside of the joke shop. They told her fairly implicitly what would happen should she refuse to fight with them. And she agreed. To save her life. To make it one more day. While the battle raged on and Saoirse was hurling hexes at those she empathized with, her mind was filled with only one thing: it didn’t feel right, fighting for this side. And so, while no one was looking at her, and there was no one in front of her to curse, she backed into a tiny alleyway and caught her breath. Luckily, one of Reed’s gang was back there. He looked at her very strangely. “You’re supposed to be takin’ those fuckers down. We can’t have you back here doin’ nothing’.” It took less than a second for her to decide her move. She lifted her wand, slashed it through the air and took the bloke out, slicing him from toe to neck. Maybe he wouldn’t die. But perhaps, she thought while staring at his motionless body, perhaps he would bleed out before he got the chance to tell their mates that she was a traitor. There were still people to fool, and she couldn’t continue to kill people in an alleyway without drawing attention to herself. Saoirse ducked out of the alley and began to fight. She caught Silas’s eye once, fighting next to Sebastian. She stopped, guard down, and was knocked to the ground. Breathless. Her brother carried on in battle, aware that she had decided to follow their father’s wishes, though she could see the pain on his face. They were on opposite sides now, for all he knew. She couldn’t tell him her plan. That fighting him, fighting their friends, was not on her agenda. Saoirse had decided to play the role of double agent. Make it appear that she was one of Reed’s. But her heart - everything she stood for - belonged to the other side. A sixth year Gryffindor, noticeable only by the gold and crimson tie around his neck, approached her with a wand held out. Duelling stance. She didn’t back down, and bowed to him. They slashed their wands, jets of light flying all over the place. It was chaotic at best. Not her forte. She was typically controlled. But this - fighting with a friend - was racking her insides. Her heart wasn’t in it. Her hands were shaking. A jet of red light hit her square in the chest and she flew backward, against a brick wall. She was vaguely aware of a dull ache in her head. And a familiar, handsome face blocking her view of the battling street. She was petrified. Still aware of her surroundings, but unable to do anything to save herself. She knew that he was on Reed’s side. But did he know the same about her? Maybe he would think her an enemy. Their relationship never started very well. There were kisses and shagging, and an understanding. Eventually they warmed up to each other. But what if he was faced with killing her? Would he do it? Somehow she had to tell him that she was on his side, as big of a lie as it was. She tried to widen her eyes, tried to speak to him, to tell him, but she was immobile. “You can join her, Davis!” The Gryffindor she’d been fighting yelled. “Ruddy traitors, the lot of you. Hogwarts is a home to you and this is what you - Impedimenta!” Saoirse wanted to jump out, to block the curse, but when she made the motion, her body did nothing. Hopefully, with any luck in the world, he would understand. It wasn’t like he was an idiot. Hopefully. |
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| Samuel Davis | Apr 14 2011, 07:47 PM Post #2 |
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Gritting his teeth, Sam dove to the left as a jet of brilliant yellow light flashed past him. The gravel dug into the knees of his robes and his palms scraped along the pavement roughly. Short sharp pain shot up from his hands but Sam dismissed it without a look. His eyes were already turning back to the source of the curse that had almost hit him. He got up to crouch on one knee and peered around a pile of debris to seek out the do gooder student who thought taking Sam out would accomplish anything. The boy was a fool. This was what Sam was born for. He was born and bred in the darkness. His father was a very loyal and involved supporter of Reed’s and had raised his sons to do just this. Fight against the light. They were born to darkness and no matter what their emotions dictated, Sam knew that he had no choice in this war. He was nothing more than another pawn in the battle that essentially boiled down to Reed against Reynolds. Reynolds may have been a brilliant wizard in his day, but that day had long since past.Despite his father’s lectures about the old head master, Sam had tried to observe the man with an impartial eye. Garridan Reynolds was definitely powerful. Decidedly more powerful than Reed, but Marcus Reed had a power that Reynolds couldn’t hope to wield. Cold disinterest. Reed was able to detach himself emotionally. (well, not that the man possessed the ability to feel emotions.) Where Reynolds cared about the people following him, they were nothing but faceless pawns to the dark lord. He had the ability to sacrifice his followers for the greater purpose. And nothing was more important to Reed than his end game. “C’mon you bloody coward,” A clear voice called to him through the din of people calling out spells and debris falling to the pavement as the small village of Hogsmeade was slowly being reduced to a pile of rubble. Calling out a quick slashing spell, Sam dove out from his hiding place and watched as the boy’s shirt split from waist to shoulder. A flow of red began to stream from the wound and a young girl screamed out the boy’s name. “Arthur!” Sam stifled the nearly crushing wave of guilt as he darted back down an alley. After being out in the bright sunlight, it took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the gloom of the tiny space. At the other end of the alley, he spotted a pair dueling. Her thin frame moved with a confidence that could only be one person. Saoirse. Just as he recognized her, a flash of scarlet light hit her in the chest and she was flung back against the wall. With a quick flip of his wrist, Sam sent her opponent back against his own wall and Sam hurried to Saoirse. Her wide brown eyes were fearful as she stared up at him. There was a vulnerability that touched him in way he couldn’t explain. It was just now that he realized that she was fighting on his side. She was fighting for Reed. He was shocked. He had just assumed that this war would end whatever bit of relationship the two of them had begun to form. It never even crossed his mind that she would be supporting the dark wizard. A flash of anger swept over him. Didn’t’ she realize how dangerous it was to pledge her allegiance to Reed? At least with Reynolds, she stood a chance. Reynolds would never willingly toss a student into the heat of battle. He would do everything in his power to protect his students. Sam stretched out a hand to her but before he could help her to her feet, a voice rang out from behind him. He turned to the arrogant Gryffindor. “You can join her, Davis!” The Gryffindor she’d been fighting yelled. “Ruddy traitors, the lot of you. Hogwarts is a home to you and this is what you - Impedimenta!” With one fluid motion, Sam cast a blocking curse and pulled Saoirse up beside him. Protecting them both from the hex hurled their way His spell was more than effective as it caused the Gryffindor’s errant curse to bounce back and knock him firmly against the wall. His head cracked against the bricks and was knocked unconscious. After a quick look around, Sam lifted his leg to smash his foot down on the Gryffindor’s wand that now rolled across the alley. The sharp crack could be heard as it snapped under his boot. It was only then that he turned his attention back to Soairse. His hands gently took her shoulder’s and he bent slightly at the knees to look into her eyes. “You alright?” Concern laced his tone. It lasted only long enough for her to nod in response. A note of steel strengthened his next words. “Are you bloody mad?” He asked with a gentle shake. “What are you doing fighting for Reed?” |
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| Saoirse Matthews | Apr 14 2011, 08:45 PM Post #3 |
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Luck was in her favor, apparently. Sam blocked the curse easily, as if he had been training for a day like this all his life. As if that’s what Hogwarts was – a training ground for war. He pulled her up and the curse was lifted, and even if she was unsteady on her feet, Sam held her up, kept her steady. Saoirse winced at the sound of breaking bones filling the alleyway. She knew that the Gryffindor boy she was fighting had cracked his skull. That Sam had cracked that boy’s skull. It was then that she realized that she couldn’t think of it that way; they were only children, fighting in an adult war. They’d gotten sucked in, tossed out as martyrs for the adult cause. As Sam’s boot crushed the boy’s wand, Saoirse caught her breath and forced herself to accept what was happening around her. She was shaken, unsure of what to do. Sure, she promised her father that she wouldn’t fight for the ministry. He told her that something was brewing, that they had asked for his loyalty. She explicitly promised him that she would show no loyalty to those thieving arses… but her friends, Silas even, were fighting on the other side. At least she had Sam right now, to make her feel as if she wasn’t alone. He could be her rock on this side of the battle. He didn’t have to know that she wasn’t actually one of Reed’s. Saoirse felt his hands on her, a gentle coercing into conscientiousness. It was the warm green eyes that kept her from losing her stomach all over his boots. Was she really going to do this? Be a double agent between the light and the dark? “You alright?” Again, she was pulled out of her dismal reverie. Saoirse nodded quickly, afraid that speaking might give her true nerves away. “Are you bloody mad?” Her eyes widened, lips still pressed firmly together. “What are you doing fighting for Reed?” It wasn’t hard to keep quiet after that. Saoirse’s natural flare for attitude swooped in and tore any uncertainty she had away. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” She shrugged his hands off of her shoulders and straightened her posture. “Thanks for helping with that little snag, but where do you get off asking me about my loyalties when they so very, very clearly are in line with your own? Do you think I’m just a brainless tart stumbling around with a wand without a brain cell in my head?” She advanced on Davis then, her eyes narrowed with the tone of her voice adopting a gravelly glaze. Her wand was held firmly in her fist on her hip. Saoirse breathed in deep and once again reigned in the urge to throw up. “Don’t you know what type of shite the Ministry spouts to get people like me to give them control?” Saoirse was basically taking what her father said and putting it into her own words. “We’re the future, Sam. We can’t let them have control of us and ruin that, too.” He just kind of stared at her as if mulling over her words. She figured he was trying to find fault, to suss her out. Maybe she was giving away her precarious situation in her eyes. Those were the only thing that could ever give her away. Sadly, someone like Sebastian would get that quickly. At the thought of him, she closed her eyes and breathed in deep through her nose. She had to banish it away right now. She didn’t want to draw Sam into her tangled web of loyalty. Her eyes opened and she voided any thought of Sebastian from her mind. “Look. I don’t like Reed. He gives me the creeps, to be honest with you. But, it’s better his load of bollocks than Reynolds’. I’m not putting my life on the line so that someone can take it away later and if you don’t think that Reynolds would ask his side to fight for him, you’re an idiot.” Just then, a bolt of orange light flew just past her cheek, singeing a chunk of her hair. She didn’t spare Sam another glance as she spun around, wand drawn defensively and threw two consecutive hexes down the alley. Saoirse advanced on the figure, unable to tell who he belonged to. He were tall and definitely not a student. By the look of his robes: auror. How the flaming fuck was she going to duel an auror? She resisted all of her instinctual urges to look back to Sam for help. That would only serve to project her nerves and then he’d know how truly scared she was. He was at her back, though, his wand prepared for battle. Saoirse breathed a sigh of relief and shot another curse only a second after Sam did. The auror dropped down under the contact with both of their spells. She jumped up, proud, and spun to face Sam. He didn’t look quite so impressed. “You can’t talk me out of this, Davis. You’re on Reed’s side and so am I. So you’ll just have to square with that.” Her face was set, chin held high. He couldn’t take this away from her. She had a very sketchy, reckless and probably going-to-get-her-killed plan. |
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| Samuel Davis | Apr 21 2011, 09:11 PM Post #4 |
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As soon as he spoke, Sam realized his mistake. Saoirse Matthews was not a girl who liked being questioned. She was intelligent, determined and driven. Once she committed to a cause, she was dedicated in her pursuit of it. And for once, her cause just happened to coincide with his. As unlikely as it seemed, they were fighting for a common goal. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Her eyes blazed furiously up at him as she pulled herself from his grasp. Her back stiffened and somehow, she managed to look down her nose at him while looking up into his eyes. Sam was fully aware that he was about to get a taste of that Matthews temper. Bloody hell, he thought, not again. “Thanks for helping with that little snag, but where do you get off asking me about my loyalties when they so very, very clearly are in line with your own? Do you think I’m just a brainless tart stumbling around with a wand without a brain cell in my head?” She railed at him as she stepped toward him menacingly. Her hands on her hips and the anger that roughened her tone, let him know that she was only just getting started. His only hope was to try and derail this freight train of fury before it could pick up steam. “Alright, Alright.” He grumbled as he raised his hands in a ‘take it easy’ gesture. “No need to get your knickers in a twist. I just didn’t think you were all that keen on the dark lord’s more … uh, questionable ethics.” “Don’t you know what type of shite the Ministry spouts to get people like me to give them control?” Saoirse was not about to be deterred by anything Sam had to say. “We’re the future, Sam. We can’t let them have control of us and ruin that, too.” He didn’t bother to respond when she paused again. It would do no good in any case. She was on a roll now. “Look. I don’t like Reed. He gives me the creeps, to be honest with you.” She admitted, her tone calming down somewhat, and Sam couldn’t help but agree with her rather succinct assessment of the dark lord with a small grin of his own.. Creepy Reed. Yeah, it certainly fit. He wouldn’t be addressing Reed as such in any future meetings but it would be one he’d be thinking nonetheless. “But, it’s better his load of bollocks than Reynolds’. I’m not putting my life on the line so that someone can take it away later and if you don’t think that Reynolds would ask his side to fight for him, you’re an idiot.” “Oh, he’ll ask them to fight but he won’t offer up his own followers as sacrificial lambs. And that’s all we are to Reed.” Sam wasn’t arguing for Reynolds side. He was trying to make sure Saoirse realized what she had truly signed on for. “Nameless, faceless people to be stepped on and used as he sees…” His words were cut off as a streak of tangerine light flashed past Saoirse, leaving the scent of scorched hair in its wake. He mentally berated himself for letting himself get caught up in a debate about politics during the middle of a battle. It was rookie mistake and one that been caused purely because of her. Her presence in the alley threw him off balance and caused him to let down his guard. His eyes sought out the caster of the curse and he recognized the man as an auror. A member of the almighty ministry attacking school children, the bitter thought caused a scowl to darken Sam’s green gaze. But even before he could move to chase down the man, Saoirse was on the move. Her wand was out and at the ready. She cast two quick spells down the alley before darting down towards the other man. Shaking his head in disbelief, Sam followed a pace behind her. His own temper flared as he held his own wand out ready to fight. She never once looked back at him. He didn’t know if she assumed he was going to be backing her up, or if she honestly thought that six years at Hogwarts was enough to battle a highly skilled auror. Either way it was either very naïve or very arrogant. Either of which would lead to a fatal mistake. Instead of commenting, Sam gave his wand a sharp twist and muttered a few words of a curse that were echoed by Saoirse and the combination was enough to catch the auror unprepared. He dropped heavily to the ground and Sam watched him for several moments as Saoirse spun around to look at him. Her eyes alight with pride and excitement. A look that in any other situation Sam may have found remarkably attractive, right now, was cause for a bit of fury to well up in him. “Are you bloody mad?” He asked but Saoirse was having none of it. “You can’t talk me out of this, Davis. You’re on Reed’s side and so am I. So you’ll just have to square with that.” Her clipped tone was punctuated be a stubborn gleam in her chocolate coloured eyes. A beat passed before Sam managed to get a handle on his own anger. “Fine, Matthews, but don’t come crying to me when you get yourself killed.” Even as he spoke the words, he narrowed his gaze at her and issued a gruff “Don’t bother.” before he stalked back down the alley. This time he didn’t look back to see if she was following him. As he passed the Gryffindor, he took a quick check to make sure the boy was still out cold before he glanced behind him. Saoirse had followed him. She stood a few paces away from him. “Merlin knows, it’s not your talent I doubt, See.” And it was true. He knew she was one of the most talented witches he’d ever met. Turning to face her, he finally brought up the one subject that would likely end up getting costing her, her life. “It’s your heart.” “What side is Si fighting on?” His words would end up with a hex being hurled at his head but it was a risk he was willing to take. “What about Bancroft?” He was being cruel, but he had to be. The rest of Reed’s followers would be less compassionate than he was being right now. How would she handle it if she were facing off against them on a battle field? |
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| Saoirse Matthews | Jun 19 2011, 09:49 PM Post #5 |
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“Fine, Matthews, but don’t come crying to me when you get yourself killed,” he said languidly. For a moment, she wondered if he was actually concerned for her and when she took a slight step forward, that thought was voided. “Don’t bother.” And then he was walking away from her. If he would have sounded angry or anything other than as completely apathetic to the prospect of her dying, Saoirse probably could have handled the situation better. Instead, the way that he brushed her off and walked away only seemed to ignite the genuine need for him to understand where she was coming from, why she would fight for Reed instead of Reynolds. It still didn’t make sense to her, really; her father requested it and she was still young enough to have such a major influence from the biggest presence in her life. Saoirse didn’t hesitate in following him. Sure, she was upset and perhaps all of the vulgar thoughts racing through her mind were on the tip of her tongue. And in any other situation, she wouldn’t have withheld them. But, there was something off in Sam. Something like surrender and less like pride. She watched Sam bend over and place his fingers upon the fallen Gryffindor’s neck, apparently checking for a pulse. There was the urge to ask him if the boy was alive, but she didn’t think that she could stomach the answer. Instead, she waited quietly behind him, gnawing on the inside of her lower lip and flipping her wand around in her hands. She felt like she was a little child. Like she discovered for the first time that Babbity Rabbity wasn’t a real person, only a myth. Let down because just like Babbity Rabbity had made her want to believe that every story had a happy ending, she was learning that things in the real world were entirely different to fiction. Tears stung her eyes when she finally looked up to Sam. Saoirse rolled her eyes up, trying to dry them off before anything leaked onto her dirty cheek, and she hoped that she merely appeared annoyed and not saddened. “Merlin knows, it’s not your talent I doubt, See. It’s your heart.” Their eyes met and it struck her hard in the chest. It was a feeling she never related to anyone apart from Sebastian. Something passionate, something liberating. And at the same time, she had imprisoned herself to her own cause to which she was much less impassioned. In time, she thought that betraying everyone including herself would fade into a murky byline of her past. Now, however, she found it difficult to place her deceit as something positive for the greater good. Whatever it was or wasn’t, she couldn’t let it get to her now. Not when it was such a critical moment as she chose her loyalties and proved them true. If Sam couldn’t believe her, believe in her, then she had no chance of displaying herself to any other followers of Reed. Saoirse took a breath through her nose, steeled her eyes and clamped her clammy hands down on her wand to stop their fidgeting. “What side is Si fighting on?” His brazen attempt at extracting her emotions made her want to hex him, but she withheld. She pursed her lips and bit her tongue. “What about Bancroft?” Keeping herself grounded in resolution to not kick Davis in the bollocks, Saoirse marched the three or four paces that separated them and glared up at him through very impassive eyes. She wanted him to feel her dedication to the side she had pledged allegiance. “Silas is going against the wish of our father,” she said without batting an eyelash. “In any circle of the Dark Lord, that would make him a traitor and I will treat him as such in any battle that we find ourselves in.” Of course, the next subject was strangely more difficult; there was no denying that Sebastian would fight on Reynolds’ side to the death. But if that had to come at her hand… It didn’t matter. What mattered right now, in this very second, was Sam accepting her choice without question. She turned her nose up and adopted her coldest voice. “Bancroft doesn’t exist to me,” she promised him, making sure that her words were clear. “There is no reason for you to think that he’s a weakness to me, Davis. He made his choice with me ages ago when he left me cold. It’s not something a girl forgives or forgets.” Instead of pressing the point by scowling or any other action that would be overdramatic, Saoirse took a step away from Sam. “We both know that people we love or have loved are fighting on the opposite side,” she told him bluntly, shrugging her shoulders. “But we have obligations, Sam. And you’re going to take my word for it now that I’m not a soppy tart as much as I’m going to have to believe that you’re not going to run off after Lucy when you see her fighting alongside Sebastian.” She knew it would sting, but there was no alternative. If they simply agreed to agree and drop the subject, both of them would be better off. In a perfect world, politics would coexist with business, lovers would never part and family would never quarrel. But that was codswallop. Never going to happen. It was much more likely that Slant would have a bit of rumpy pumpy with Kerrigan – and if that happened, she would win money on a bet she made in her first year. In the silence that had followed her explanation to Davis, Saoirse was able to find a small sum of amusement. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to pull her away from the foreboding thoughts of the future. “Sam,” she started in a voice that was both desperate for his approval and firm to show no weakness. “You have to trust me. I know what I’m doing.” This time, when she heard a scuffling noise behind her, she didn’t Nancy-out like she had done before. She left Sam no opportunity to take care of it for her. Saoirse whipped around, spotted the Hufflepuff badge on the cloak and fired off a stunning spell without holding back. There was no fear of hurting the chap. None that would be revealed, in any case. As the body crumpled to the ground, Saoirse heaved a deep breath and stared at the fallen body. The wand was just out of his reach, his hand was raised above his head which was facedown onto the cracked cement below. She nodded, though she didn’t know it. Yes, Saoirse could do this. Oddly, she didn’t think she could do it if she didn’t have to prove it to Sam Davis. Somehow, even though she knew it was only the very beginning of a very dark road, she knew that she would need him. He was going to be her rock; keeping her cemented in her decision, without even realizing it. Which, of course, would make it more difficult to understand. An idea popped in her mind instantly and before she could consider any of the repercussions, she piped up. “I want to make you a proposition,” she said suddenly, waiting a beat before she turned back around to face Sam. A smile graced her lips as she lifted her hand to push her fringe away from her eyes. “We’re not bad together, you know. Save for the odd disagreement,” (Yes, Saoirse knew she was putting it mildly), “we get on rather well.” She took a step closer to him, putting herself more fully in Sam’s personal space. This time, when she looked into his warm, green eyes, there wasn’t a hint of condescension because frankly, she wasn’t lying. The only thing that concerned her at the moment was that they were in an alleyway while there were duels going on around Hogsmeade; it was already proven that anyone could walk by at any time, but it still didn’t put her off. She needed this pact with Sam. “I want to be your girlfriend – truly, your girlfriend.” She traced her finger down the front of his jumper, cocking her head to the side but still attempting to keep eye contact. “What do you say, Davis? Fancy giving us a go?” |
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| Samuel Davis | Jun 23 2011, 08:52 PM Post #6 |
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The air between them was charged with an odd combination of concern and anger, yet Sam knew he couldn’t back down. Whatever she was trying to prove was bound to get her killed. And despite everything that had gone on between them, Sam couldn’t help but be worried for her. He’d seen what being immersed in the darkness could do to a person. His own father had been complete entrenched in the dark lord’s world for so long now that he couldn’t even imitate real human emotion. Sam had the mental scars to attest to that. Inexplicably, the thought of that happening to the passionate brunette before him was enough to cause a nearly incapacitating fear and sadness to overcome him. He couldn’t allow that to happen. Not Saoirse. “Silas is going against the wish of our father,” she said with conviction. Her dark eyes blazed as she stared him down. “In any circle of the Dark Lord, that would make him a traitor and I will treat him as such in any battle that we find ourselves in.” Her words held little room for doubt, yet Sam couldn’t help but wonder how true her words would be when it came to the moment when she was force to send an avada at her older brother. He knew that the Matthews siblings had always been close, and he’d seen her love for Silas on many occasions. He knew from experience that a love that strong wasn’t something that could be tossed aside. No matter what the consequences. “Bancroft doesn’t exist to me,” Her tone was icy and her eyes narrowed into slits as she all but dared him to disagree with her. “There is no reason for you to think that he’s a weakness to me, Davis. He made his choice with me ages ago when he left me cold. It’s not something a girl forgives or forgets.” As she stepped away from him, Sam prepared himself for what he suspected would come next. “We both know that people we love or have loved are fighting on the opposite side but we have obligations, Sam. And you’re going to take my word for it now that I’m not a soppy tart as much as I’m going to have to believe that you’re not going to run off after Lucy when you see her fighting alongside Sebastian.” He allowed one small nod of acknowledgement in Saoirse’s direction. No matter how prepared he thought he was, it still felt like a physical blow when she hurled Lucy’s name at him. He’d tried to cast aside his love for the beautiful blonde girl who’d stolen his heart so long ago, but it was hopeless. He needed to push his love for her aside, for her sake. There was no telling what damage Andreas Davis would do if he found that his eldest son still harboured feelings for a muggle born girl. “Sam,” Saoirse’s soft but unyielding tone broke through his thoughts. “You have to trust me. I know what I’m doing.” Before he could respond, a noise caught their attention. Saoirse whirled around without a second’s hesitation. Sam barely had time to note the yellow and black Puff tie before the figure dropped to the pavement. He watched the unmoving figure for a few moments. A flurry of thoughts rushing through his mind. Saoirse had more than proven that she could take care of herself, yet he couldn’t purge himself to the desire to protect her. It was absurd. “I want to make you a proposition,” Once again her words drew him back to the present. As she turned back toward him, a smile curving her pink lips upward. Her eyes held his as she lifted an absent hand up to brush back her chestnut locks from her forehead. “We’re not bad together, you know. Save for the odd disagreement,” (Sam found it impossible to restrain an increduloussnort that escaped him at this point.), “we get on rather well.” Sam unfolded his arms as she stepped closer to him. The scent of her softly floral shampoo caught his attention as she stood inches from him. Her expresso coloured eyes lifted up to meet his and he could see the sincerity in her gaze. Whatever this proposition was, he could see that it was something she believed in. “I want to be your girlfriend – truly, your girlfriend.” She implored softly. It wasn’t what he was expecting, in fact, it was likely the last thing in the world he had expected. He opened his mouth to answer her with a very definite no. They would end up killing each other. And it would likely be a bloody disaster. Then he closed it as the idea began to settle in his mind. A pairing with Saoirse actually made a lot of sense. It would allow him to keep a close eye on Saoirse and detract suspicion from her. But even more than that, it would make his father happy. The Matthews family was a very wealthy pureblood family who was fighting for Reed. So, in Andreas’s eyes, that made Saoirse the perfect girlfriend for his eldest son. It would also keep Andreas’s attention from Lucy. And that would keep her safe. “What do you say, Davis? Fancy giving us a go?” Before he knew what he was doing, Sam nodded his head slowly. A wicked grin found its way to his lips as he lifted his hands up to rest easily on her hips. He took a half step toward her and peered down at her wolfishly. “If I say yes, does that entitle us to a trip to the Shrieking Shack to make it official?” He teased in a low voice. |
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| Saoirse Matthews | Jun 24 2011, 02:42 PM Post #7 |
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Saoirse had a knack for bringing trouble onto herself. Sure, she was a self-proclaimed bookworm, top of her class, involved in more clubs than she could count on one hand, and never really strayed from doing good (present decision excluded). Somehow, though, ever since the New Year’s Eve party that her brother had thrown several months ago, Saoirse had become like a magnet for things that weren’t only out of her normal character, but also practically asking for danger. For one, she never would have asked Sam Davis to be her boyfriend, and under normal circumstances, she never would fight for Reed. As much as she wanted to blame everything on her father, Saoirse knew that this was her choice; much like Silas had chosen the other side. She didn’t realize just how much trouble she was getting herself into until Sam nodded his head, agreeing with her proposal. Somehow, she never quite imagined he’d be on board with it. She was sure he had his own reasons – like, perhaps, to spy on Silas and the good side through her even though she had vehemently told him that there wasn’t a place for them in her life anymore. Whatever the reasons, however, she was still glad that he accepted. It was always going to be a case of fight or flight for Saoirse. Her stubborn nature told her to fight. So, when Sam grinned at her in a way that made he feel as if she was being hunted for sport, Saoirse did her best not to jump away from him. Davis could be bloody intimidating when he wanted to be, and she knew that he knew it. “If I say yes, does that entitle us to a trip to the Shrieking Shack to make it official?” Though she could hear the jest in his tone and plainly see the mischievous gleam in his eyes, Saoirse gulped. This could go one of two ways. She could play into his game, pretend to be putty in his hands – which, was probably the smarter of the two options if she really wanted to prove that she wouldn’t turn back to Sebastian. Or, she could put him in his place and refuse to bow to his predatory advances, regardless of how fit he looked while making them. Saoirse let out a long breath through her nostrils and attempted her best, playful smile. There was no doubt that if she was Sam’s girlfriend, eventually she’d have to give a little to get a little. And there wasn’t another option for safety. Being Sam’s girlfriend would provide protection for her in the eyes of the Dark Lord to some extent; her loyalty wouldn’t be questioned as long as she didn’t make a dog’s dinner of things. She would have to play along in order to get along. She would also have to stop thinking in ridiculous clichés. Still, she didn’t want him to have his way with her so easily. It wasn’t like she was a slag, sleeping with everyone she came into contact with. And the last time she and Sam had shagged, it was nothing but a nightmare afterwards. This would have to be taken as slow as she could without raising suspicion. So, she placed her hands on his broad, hard chest and shoved him away lightly while taking a step away. “I’m not sure now’s a good time for that,” she told him honestly, “there’s a bit of a war going on just around the corner and our chances of making it unscathed from here to the Shack are minimal. Unless you’d die to shag me, I’d suggest we put that off until we’re out of the line of fire?” Leaning forward (keeping body parts at a distance in case it got too cozy), Saoirse planted a peck of a kiss on Sam’s lips. She didn’t give him time to deepen it, nor did she give herself time to dwell on the warm, welcoming, soft and surprisingly missed feel of his mouth on hers. When she pulled away, she also pushed down her desire to do it again. “It’s not like we won’t have plenty of time for that later, right?” She asked him, though Saoirse almost felt as if she were telling it to her own libido as well. Sam had a strange way of making her forget things that had previously felt engrained in her mind; like the fact that she wasn’t actually fighting for Reed, and that she still desperately – though admittedly – loved Sebastian. The thudding sounds of bodies hitting the pavement, roars of spell work, and cries for help all permeated the alleyway as if they hadn’t been there before. Saoirse spun around when she heard a particularly familiar scream; it was Leslie – one of her best mates in Ravenclaw. They hadn’t had a chance to speak too much since the Masquerade, but that was because the vixen had scored herself a bloke and had been spending a lot of time snogging behind various statues in the castle. Saoirse’s instincts were now manic. She knew that she couldn’t run after Leslie and help – it would negate everything she had just told Sam. But it was Leslie and she had never done anything to hurt anyone – ever. Looking up to Sam, Saoirse bit her lip and followed it with a deep breath. “I think we should get back to the battle,” she said in the strongest voice she could muster. It had nothing to do with getting back to fighting. She had to check on Leslie to make sure she was alright. Sam seemed to agree with her because he grabbed her hand and led her back out into Hogsmeade’s high street. There was action all around, in front of most shops as their owners defended their property. Black robes outnumbered the rest, and it made it easier for Saoirse to quickly spot where Leslie was. On the ground, a huge (practically a brick house) man stood over her in black robes with his wand aimed straight at her face. Saoirse dropped Sam’s hand and shrieked a fierce “no!” though it went unheard as all the other clamoring around the village drowned her out. Leslie, however, lifted her head and turned to her with a stricken expression of sheer terror on her face. Saoirse took a very short step forward, felt Sam’s hand on her shoulder and stopped immediately. This was why she needed him, though it made nothing about the situation easier. The man standing over Leslie whipped his wand back and then forward. A jet of green light issued from his wand and almost instantly smashed into Leslie’s face. Her head fell to the pavement, eyes still open – still horrified – and still staring at Saoirse. “Oh my fucking God,” she whispered as she raised a hand up to her mouth. “Ohmyfuckinggod.” She spun around to face Sam – knowing that it was stupid to turn her back on a dozen wizards with wands – and could do nothing more than blink and expel the same sentence over and over again. It was her best friend. What more could he expect from her? A stream of blue light whizzed past their legs and Saoirse understood the look in Sam’s eyes clearly; they had to fight, there was no time to mourn and any remorse she felt for Leslie’s death had to be buried, and she had to fight alongside the man that killed her best friend. Maybe Sam wasn’t thinking that, but it made Saoirse feel better to think that this was his idea. “If we get separated, I’ll meet you in the library later,” she told him swiftly, detaching her emotions as best as she could, though she could hear her voice still shaking as violently as her hands. Maybe it would have been better to go with Sam the second that he expressed an interest in having sex. Maybe then, she wouldn’t have had to watch as the light left her friend’s eyes. Maybe, in a sick and twisted way, shagging Sam would have saved her a lifetime of post-traumatic stress. Edited by Saoirse Matthews, Jun 24 2011, 02:48 PM.
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| Samuel Davis | Jun 25 2011, 07:25 PM Post #8 |
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There was a moment before Saoirse answered that Sam realized that this was going to go one of two ways – she’d either understand that he was teasing or she wouldn’t. If she didn’t, he’d likely end up on the receiving end of one of her deadly curses. Not a fate he’d wish on his worst enemy. Saoirse was one of the most talented witches of their age. A small grin slid over her pretty face, but there was something a bit off about it. It felt a little forced. It was enough to put him on his guard. A relationship with Saoirse would definitely serve to keep him on his toes. Assuming, of course, that he survived the afternoon. With the duels and fighting taking place in the small village and Saoirse’s deadly wand right in front of him, he’d put his chances of survival at about 50/50 right now. “I’m not sure now’s a good time for that,” she told him honestly, “there’s a bit of a war going on just around the corner and our chances of making it unscathed from here to the Shack are minimal. Unless you’d die to shag me, I’d suggest we put that off until we’re out of the line of fire?” Die to shag her? No, he had no intention of dying, but that would be one hell of a pickup line to use in a situation like this. He couldn’t help but smirk a little and as she lifted her face to his, he felt the familiar pressure of her soft lips against his. He lifted a hand up to pull her closer, but she was already stepping away from him. Obviously she didn’t trust herself around him. “It’s not like we won’t have plenty of time for that later, right?” She assured him. “Assuming we survive today? Absolutely.” He mumbled, more to himself than to her. Her attention was pulled away anyway. The sounds of the battle had been filtering into the alley throughout their disagreement but they were getting louder. The battle was edging closer to them. The sound of a scream seemed to stand out among the din of spells being cast, and the shouts of anger. It was that scream that caused Saoirse to spin around. He caught a glimpse of panic in her eyes and it worried him. “I think we should get back to the battle,” She spoke. He could hear a slight tremble in her voice. This could be bad. Very bad. If Saoirse came apart now, in the first battle, not even a relationship with Andreas Davis’s son would do a lick of good. She needed to keep it together and she needed to act as unaffected as she could. And he knew without a doubt, he’d help her through it. He may not love her the way he loved Lucy but somewhere along the way – through the arguments, the angry sex and the killer manticores – he had come to care for her. And he wasn’t about to let anything happen. He slipped his hand into hers and pulled her out into the street. It wasn’t Hogsmeade any longer. It bore no resemblance to the quaint little town that he’d visited for the past seven years. This was a battle field. Bodies littered the ground, many of them faces he recognized. Those still standing were busy firing hexes and dodging curses. The beautiful village was in shambles – crumbling buildings, smoke and flames ravaged a few shops and the debris filled the cobblestone streets. Sam was so busy taking in the destruction of Hogsmeade that he barely noticed Saoirse’s distraction. Not until she spoke. “No!” He turned quickly to see her stepping toward one of Reed’s men, McAllister by the look of him who stood above a vaguely familiar Ravenclaw. He lifted a hand to rest on Saoirse’s shoulder. As much as she wanted to help, she couldn’t come to the aid of her friend. Not without serious repercussions from Reed. And not the kind of repercussions this would cause for her. If she stepped in, she’d be joining her friend before the day was out. McAllister fired the curse that ended the Ravenclaw’s torment. The light faded from her eyes and Saoirse’s body went rigid. “Oh my fucking God,” Her voice was barely audible over the noise of the fight. “Ohmyfuckinggod.” She turned toward him. “Ohmyfuckinggod.” Her face was sheet white and her eyes were huge and filled with disbelief. “Ohmyfuckinggod.” He took hold of her shoulders and stooped slightly so they were eye to eye. Her entire body was trembling violently. He had to snap her out of this. If she let it the grief and the guilt would overwhelm her, and in a situation like this, that could be a fatal mistake. “Saoirse.” He simply spoke her name. The panic slowly subsided from her eyes. There was still an enormous amount of grief, but the clever girl he knew was emerging. She knew what the stakes were and she could pull herself out of it. “If we get separated, I’ll meet you in the library later,” Her voice seemed a bit steadier, yet the sadness still lingered in the slight tremble. “Sweetheart, you are now officially my girlfriend, remember?” He took hold of her hand and pulled her off to the side. “I’m not letting you out of my sight.” He found them a quiet area behind a small stone fence and pulled her to a crouch behind it. He took a glance around and when he noted a few of Reed’s men looking their way, he cast several stunning hexes at a few of Reynold’s followers before kneeling beside Saoirse. If anyone asked now, people would remember Sam and Saoirse being involved in the battle. They would be safe. He stayed quiet for several moments as Saoirse seemed to struggle against the emotions still warring within her. When he spoke it was with a gentle tone that seemed completely unlike Sam. There was a tenderness in his words that he hoped would help soothe her. “Was she a friend?” |
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| Saoirse Matthews | Jun 25 2011, 10:05 PM Post #9 |
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Saoirse felt entirely on display. Sam had not only gotten to see her at the most vulnerable she’d ever remembering being in her life (at the Shrieking Shack), but he’d also witnessed the various ways she could have a nervous breakdown (just now). Something about it was comforting and at the same time she couldn’t help but feel as if he would see just how fragile she really was. Not that she’d actually admit to anyone that she felt weak… but how else were you going to feel when you just watched a friend snuff it? “Sweetheart, you are now officially my girlfriend, remember?” She felt his hand and glanced down. An odd warmth filled her. His girlfriend, she mused silently. It should have meant less than it did. “I’m not letting you out of my sight.” Well, that didn’t exactly go how she planned. Being his girlfriend was merely supposed to provide her with a certain cover – ‘oh, Davis’s bird, yeah, she’s one of us.’ Or, something that sounded less like a mafia movie spoof. Instead, she was being pulled along to a place where she assumed they were going to hide. She scowled at Sam, though he wasn’t paying any attention to her at all. His eyes were trained on the battles raging on around them. Something she thought that she should pay attention to as well. With her eyes still narrowed, she surveyed the area and met eyes with another wizard in black robes. Sam cast a series of spells and she watched his wand work carefully. He was truly a skilled wizard and not afraid to hurt honest citizens, apparently. That was who Sam Davis was, she had to remind herself. A Slytherin, one of them. Them, who had caused the death of Leslie, her very best friend. But she couldn’t think of it like that, could she? It would kill her, wouldn’t it? Saoirse turned her eyes to Sam and found something she hadn’t been expecting: sympathy. “Was she a friend?” All of her breath seemed to disappear then. Her eyes stung and her lower lip trembled. Really, he wanted to discuss that here? Now? With Reed’s men scattered around and, while they were preoccupied, they were still perceptive. “Barely,” she lied, whispering because she couldn’t remember how to make her voice louder. She turned toward the violence on the street again, trying to reign in her emotions so that they didn’t get her (and Sam) killed. Her eyes met the eyes of the man that killed Leslie and she gulped. He nodded to her, as if she were an ally. She could do nothing more than nod, very feebly, back at him. Her thoughts, however, were “yes, I will kill you one day” rather than “good on ya, mate.” She broke eye contact first and moved her line of vision to the sign reading Honeydukes just above them. They could turn around and leave. They had done their bit, in the eyes of the Dark Lord. They had wreaked havoc on Hogsmeade, damaged things, and as far as he was aware, killed people. She turned her gaze back to Sam and gestured to the sign above them with her eyes, silently asking him if they were safe to go back to the school, well before the news of the battle and so they could stay out of suspicion’s path. He nodded and guided her backwards into the sweetshop. Once inside, they stood up straight and made their way into the basement. The shop was completely empty, Saoirse guessed that the owners and patrons were among the casualties on the cobblestone street of Hogsmeade. “Does it get easier?” She asked him offhandedly as he lifted the hinged counter top back for her to pass through. “Having to kill people, I mean. I’ve never…” It was no secret that she really was a good girl deep down and that under normal circumstances murder wouldn’t come naturally to her. She felt that most people would be the same way – honest and kind. Or perhaps she was very naïve. Either way, maybe Sam had some insight. She led them through the cellar door and down to the basement where the pathway leading to the passage at Hogwarts was located. Before they opened the hatch to enter the passageway, Saoirse spun around and faced Sam in very close proximity. His eyes were peering down at her, almost as if he were trying to see through her. She wondered briefly if he knew how intimidating he could be, towering over her with those intense, green eyes. Saoirse tried to lift her lips into a smile to prove (mostly to herself) that she wasn’t feeling affected by him. Her back was pressed against the old, wooden door, hair falling out of her ponytail. She figured that she looked a mess and on the inside, she was in shambles. Somehow, his presence calmed her. And, so did not being in direct eyesight of Leslie’s dead body. A shiver passed through her, but she tried to ignore it, blinking slowly up at Sam and taking a deep breath. “I mean, not that you’re an expert or anything,” she added as an afterthought, not wanting to imply that he was a homicidal maniac. “It’s just, well, with you being so obviously on Reed’s side, I just assumed that you might know more than me?” |
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| Samuel Davis | Jun 26 2011, 08:12 PM Post #10 |
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Talking about the dead Ravenclaw was clearly not something Saoirse wanted to at the moment, and Sam could understand that. So when she indicated Honeydukes, he was clear on the fact that she wanted to leave. Needed to leave, perhaps. But in any case, he’d made the efforts necessary to ensure their safety. He’d made sure they were witnessed taking part in the destruction of Hogsmeade. They would be safe, for now anyways. In a hurried step, he led her to the door of the famous sweetshop and the pair of them made their way inside. As he held the countertop open so that Saoirse could go through, she asked him a quiet question. “Does it get easier? Having to kill people, I mean. I’ve never…” Sam stood stock still. Shock rushed over him followed quickly by anger and finally a small of hurt. Saoirse was oblivious to it all as she continued down to the door that led to the basement. Finally, he shook his head, as if trying to clear those emotions and he followed her slowly. He’d never killed anyone. He’d never been asked to and he’d never wanted to. He was prat, he’d admit to that. Hell, he could be as cruel as anyone, probably more so than most, but she just assumed that he killed people for sport or something. As if he did it like a hobby for those days when there was just nothing on the telly. It stung. And that in itself was surprising. He should have realized just how low her opinion was of him. He caught up to her as she neared the door to the passageway. She turned to look up at him. Her red rimmed eyes and pale face stood out in the dimly lit basement. She was destroyed over the loss of her friend and the destruction she’d seen on the street today. This wasn’t the time to get stroppy over her assumption. Despite his resolve to let the matter lie for now, he couldn’t help the hard glint his eyes held or the resolute set of his jaw. It took everything he had to even look at her. “I mean, not that you’re an expert or anything,” she added as an afterthought, “It’s just, well, with you being so obviously on Reed’s side, I just assumed that you might know more than me?” “Have you forgotten which side you’ve chosen to fight for?” He asked her simply. No judgment or condemnation in his words, just a plainly asked question. The resentment for her words still thrummed through him. He didn’t wait for an answer. Instead, he brushed passed her into the passageway. Stalking through the small dark tunnel, Sam muttered a harsh ‘Lumos’ and allowed the pale light to guide him through the damp passage. He could hear Saoirse following along behind him. He never turned back to look at her. His mind still stewing over the assumptions she had made. This was a choice for her, but his path had been set since before he was born. His father was absolutely devoted to Reed’s cause and had followed the man since the beginning. His eldest son was obviously to be groomed in the same manner. He’d spent a great portion of his life training to serve the dark lord. But Saoirse, she had the opportunity to turn from this. She had a brother and friends that all fought on the side of the light, and she chose to give herself over to the darkness. She chose to be here and then had the nerve to assume that he was a cold hearted murderer. Coming to an abrupt halt in a part of the tunnel where the ceiling was high enough for him to stand without stooping his shoulders, he turned to stare at Saoirse. A stillness filled the space between them as she waited a few moments for him to say something. “And what makes you think I’d have any clue on how it feels to kill someone?” This time he was unable to keep the sharp edge from his words. He really was trying to control his temper. This wasn’t the time or the place for this discussion, yet he couldn’t help but ask. |
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4:27 AM Jul 11