The Hand that Feeds [SITE PLOT] [Olivia/Open]

[reese]

Mid October, 20:00

Dapper in his tailored ash suit, Tom leaned against the masoned wall of the East Hall, his shoulder baring the brunt of his weight against the rough stone wall. He was straying from the kaleidoscope of blacks to other neutrals as of late, and even donned the occasional colored tie, solid though, none of those outlandish patterns. Rome wasn’t built in a day, and neither was his comprehensive wardrobe. It would take more than a night of passion with the school’s rainbow child to get him into anything that matched her bright choice of garb.

His arms dropped from their folded position across his chest, his hand grazing the cold wall. He felt the scratch of the unpolished rock and quickly brought his hand up to assess the injury. A small cut had formed across the knuckle of his pinky and continued down the side of his hand. Blood trickled from the small wound, droplets falling to stain the untreated floor. His uninjured hand patted his pockets, then his chest, damn, no wand. That was odd, he could have sworn he stowed it inside is jacket before running out for a bit of wandering. He was forced into extracting the white pocket square, that was tucked neatly into his breast pocket, and using it to cover the wound, applying a good amount of pressure to cease the bleeding.

His eyes followed a final drop of blood to the floor, where it pooled with the small amount that already escaped through the tear of his skin. ”Such a waste.” The floor seemed to absorb the blood, and it was gone, his brow raised at this odd occurrence. ”That’s unu-” There was a low murmuring that interrupted his inquisitive speculation and his head shot up to examine the deserted corridor. This raised even more questions in his already startled mind and the hairs on the back of his neck responded accordingly and stood up in attention.

During his checking of the barren hall, a vein manifested on the very wall he leaned against. Not a few steps away from him, a trail of black oozing liquid trickled down the wall, mimicking the escape that his own blood had made. His eyes focused on this abnormal site, and Tom leaned away from the wall to step toward the blackness that reflected the torchlight of the castle interior. He narrowed his eyes at the goo, that seemed to call for his touch. Tom removed the handkerchief and reached out with his scratched hand to touch the mystery liquid. His finger tips barely grazed the substance when it acted on its own and climbed up his fingers to sink into the cut.

He pulled his hand away and stumbled back from the wall, away from the goo. In his haste, he crashed into the opposite wall and slid down into a seated position, unable to take his eyes off the spot of the wall that once bled black. The sting of his hand brought his attention to it, and he looked down to see that the wound had closed, leaving a strange blackened scar in its wake. This couldn’t have been good, not everything that came in black was as positive as a finely tailored three piece suit.

[Eddie]

Sullen hands grasped shakily at the yellow stained cylinder of paper gently but urgently, grappling thing as if it were a gift from the gods. Nicotine stained fingers finally clamped them in the customary position between index and middle finger, raising the cigarette to eager lips quickly, ramming it in with little thought to adding a filter, or even twisting the end. A spare hand ran down shabby jeans, scrabbling through pockets for his pack of matches, finally locating the sulphur sticks in the fourth pocket they checked.

One smooth movement snapped a match from the pack and slipping the pack into his pocket he lifted one foot a little, striking the easily lit match on the huge, cracked and worn boots, cradling the flame he brought it up to the cancer stick hanging from his lips and holding it a little distance away he drew in breath, the little orange tongues of fire flicking against the cigarette end, lighting the end with a little cloud of smoke from burning filter paper.

One long indrawn breath established the fire in the cigarette, a large, glowing orange cherry forming on the end while hot smoke rushed into his tar damaged lungs, filling them with the blessed nicotine he had been craving for the last five hours. Holding his breath for a moment, he closed his eyes and relaxed the shakes and shivers that had been wracking his body wearing off in one moment of delight. Lips parting slightly, thick, foul smoke leaked from them slowly as the breath was released. It seemed that the smoke was nearly denser than the air for it’s didn’t lift and float, it tumbled as ink through water, rolling around him in a cloud.

He had in fact, been in detention for the last six hours, a punishment for being caught smoking in the school building, one of the abandoned classrooms which Eddie has falsely assumed empty. He had barely had time to light up and take a breath in before he felt the cigarette whip away from his lips and into the air, a teacher glaring at him, repeating their previous warnings about him smoking inside. Well, he had given her some cheek and it seemed it hadn’t gone well at all for he was whipped away to detention that instant.

Within an hour of that detention he had begun to crave a smoke and after five more he was a wreck, shakes and shivers making him feel like death. He had been smoking nearly twenty a day from being nearly nine and being parted from his addiction caused him severe pains. Enough that he would face that detention again just to have another smoke.

He had taken off at a run from the classroom that had hosted his detention, running to the quiet hallway in the east of the castle, lighting up as soon as he was far enough away that the teacher wasn’t likely to catch him. Finally, the smog that was clouding his brain began to lift enough that he could walk without focussing on his every step, allowing him to take off along the corridor in an odd, forward sidle.

Heavy, once black leather boots thudded along the corridor in a slow pace as Eddie wandered through the castle, looking for somewhere to rest and relax and smoke to his heart’s content. The oversized, ancient leather jacket that hung over Eddie’s shoulders moved in a sudden draft of air, a chill in it hinting to icy weather outside, well, it would have to be outside, inside didn’t have it’s own meteorological system. It struck him only afterward that the gust must have been powerful to move his heavy jacket though he felt nothing but the drop in temperature, not even a hair shielding his face stirring though he attributed it to the ragged beanie he wore to cover it.

Only as he furthered his passage through the corridor did he begin to feel uncomfortable, his paranoia suggesting like a little voice in his ear that the teacher had followed him and was waiting to spring out on him as soon as it seemed appropriate, though that would be a foolish thing to do with someone as nervy as Eddie. A swift elbow in the stomach would be the reward for that. But no teacher was forthcoming, nothing seemed to be alive in this corridor or at least that was what Eddie thought until he raised those flitting, nervous eyes and caught sight of a figure ahead slumping back against a wall.

Two thoughts occurred simultaneously, the first was to forget everything and run back up the corridor, out of the way of the fallen figure and out of whatever danger was here, the other, the more powerful, was to see if the fallen man had anything to steal. Slowly he slunk forward, naturally holding close to the wall as he walked, his green orbs glancing from cold wall to cold wall in an attempt to locate the source of the man’s collapse though his investigation produced no results.

Finally, he stopped nearly five metres away from the man, nervous eyes flicking over him, seeing the young man inspect a cut on his hand dreamily, as though his mind was elsewhere. Eddie was reluctant to come closer, knowing that he would be in range for attack and this young man was too smartly dressed to be any old hack… but if he did fall unconscious then he was bound to have something worth stealing on his person.

Hesitantly, Eddie spoke up, his deep, gravelly voice filling the corridor, sounding loud and unnaturally wrong, like a shout in a cathedral, after the first word it was dropped to a whisper, the cigarette removed from his lips, taking up position in his scarred, ruined hand. “Awrigh’ ma’e?” He muttered, his head cocking to one side as he watched the expensive looking figure, the complete antithesis of himself who looked as though he had been dragged in by a cat having a bad hair day and mauled repeatedly.

[oliviahall]

Agony, for the first time in years, Olivia was experiencing the physical form of such a feeling. Quidditch season was in full swing, and she was becoming obsessive over the idea of Hufflepuff becoming victorious over all others. As captain, she wanted to lead by example, and the example she wanted to set was hard work outside of practice. She had substituted her nightly drunken stints at the Hog’s Head for much more productive hours of external training by herself. Once the sun began to set, she knew her time was limited before she needed to head back to the castle and make curfew. Though she’d never had a problem avoiding authority during even her most drunken of stumblings through the stone pathways, there was more at risk if she were to get caught, and hence was more paranoid about breaking any rules.

Her body was physically beginning to shut down at the amount of intense activity she was putting it through, the bat that once was firmly held at the ready now hung at her side as she hovered above the pitch on her Oakshaft 83. A bludgeor pierced through the air, circling the pitch before setting it’s target, the dark haired beauty that slumped over her broom, gripping the shaft with her batless hand as tightly as she could muster in her fatigue. She heard the whizzing before spotting the black orb coming right at her, slightly obscured by the late day mist that began to congregate over the grounds. ”I’m going to send you on a meet and greet with your pals.” Muttering to herself through gritted teeth, Liv rotated her broom, and sped off in the direction of the round, black missile that had locked on her.

The bat trailed behind her, and Liv strained against the wind resistance to bring it up to a more defensive position, in case she couldn’t wack that blasted bludgeor it would collide harshly with her chest and send her flying off her broom, in the opposite direction she was moving. There it was, just in range, Olivia swung her bat, there was a crack, and then, black.

Waking up in the hospital wing, much to her displeasure, suggested she had in fact missed that missile and the crack was the crushing of her own collar bone, not the bat colliding with the opposing force of the speeding black sphere. ”What in the- where- huh?” Her eyes began to regain their focus, and from her elevated position on the lush pillow she stared down of her lengthy form. Someone had taken the liberty of redressing her in a white t-shirt and loose scrub-like teal cotton bottoms. She sat up, her chest sizzling with pain, no doubt she had been force fed a disgusting potion to realign the split bones. Grumbling, Olivia swung her legs off the bed, her bare feet meeting the cold floor, it provided a momentary distraction from the searing chest she wished belonged to someone else, preferably some bitch that had slighted her in the past.

Much to the dismay of the attending nurse, Olivia insisted she was fine to leave, after discovering she had missed a whole day due to her humiliating misfire at the pitch. All that the remainder of her recovery required was rest, and that could be done in her own bed. She received a brief scolding about over-working her body and how careless she had been with her decision to practice alone. For good measure, the nurse added that a third year had come across her unconscious form and called on the staff for help. How embarrassing, but it would all be worth it in the end, when she was able to rejoice with her housemates over the dominating victory over whatever house they would face in the finals. Already she had fantasized about spotting Heather across the crowded room, she would smile and push everyone aside to get to her girl to plant a very passionate, and very public smooch on those welcoming lips.

She had wandered down the tower to the East Hall, grinning at her own silly dream that would be made all the more attainable by even more work at the pitch. Midway through the corridor, something overtook her senses, unnerving her to the point of goose bumps, and not the pleasant kind that came at the touch of a significant other. Olivia was pulled out of her dreamy state to spot two figures a ways down the hall, one standing, the other slumped against the wall. Eddie was easy to recognize with his lithe form and signature jacket. She crossed her arms, partly to compensate for the cold chill she was experiencing, partly at the missing leather that typically shielded her arms from such elements.

After having given pause to her stride to look over the two men, who were in somewhat of a compromising situation, Liv approached the duo, knowing she would at least be comfortable in the presence of her team mate. ”Eddie, what in blazes have you done to this-” Her eyes fell to the man on the ground, once in talking distance he was recognizable as one of those snake bastards. ”Never mind, good on you.” She flashed a smirk at her Huffle brethren, before addressing the Slytherin with her eyes once more. There was something off about him, perhaps there was something more than just green and silver coursing through his veins. Got his hands on some experimental potion perhaps?

[celesteknight]

"Asphodel, valerian... wormwood. But why was the extra turn so essential? Widdershins is the most dire and ill-meant and yet one turn around correctly for luck? Can't be that... pure, bloody, witchy superstition..."

Celeste Knight murmured softly to herself joining the normal chorus of creaking stairs and friendly ghosties that composed the background music of Hogwarts. The sharp staccato of her heeled boots beat a steady counterpoint to her mutters as she turned the corner towards the East Hallway. Her long black hair hung lank around her face in spite of the speed with which she walked and her green eyes were unusually blank and still.

At breakfast that morning, along with the usual scolding, gossipy letter from her mother and an indifferent note from her father had come a most intriguing challenge from her grandfather.

He had been digging through archives from the Great War and had found some interesting traces among the heavily censored texts and diaries penned by Severus Snape. Included among these guarded tomes was the schoolbook which the war-hero Potter had used to cheat his way through Sixth Year Potions. The information contained was priceless and would certainly have doubled the Knight fortune. But the only pure copy of the book was in the hands of the Unspeakables and so Celeste was now puzzling over what little evidence her grandfather had been able to gather to gain some insight.


"If only that damn book wasn't in the Unspeakables' clutches... as if they're going to do anything useful with i--"

She paused and held her body still for a moment, looking up at the empty, dusty hall. Something chilled her briefly and her green eyes flicked quickly right and left.

It was silent. Which was nearly impossible at Hogwarts. There was always some First Year howling about a failed Charms practical, perhaps a Fourth Year or two making a great ruckus with the latest from the Weasley Wizard Wheezes line. If all else failed Mr. Filch would materialize out of thin air to glower down his crooked nose, waiting for the chance to drag off an innocent student to the Headmistress.

But everything was quiet and still in the hall, so still that she could practically feel the dust settling in her wake as she took a step forward, and then another, and then another until her eyes landed on three figures.

She recognized two of them immediately, the Slytherin who had taunted her after paralyzing George, and the Hufflepuff whom she'd dosed the other day with love potion.

Two potential enemies and the third an unknown factor.

But the Slytherin boy was slumped on the floor against the wall and Celeste saw that he held no wand. The Hufflepuff was looking a little too pleased about this.

The possible responses and actions towards the situation spun through her mind. She had no reason to throw her lot in with the Slytherin or even stop at all. But the Hufflepuff girl would probably not allow her to pass so easily and if anything, she could throw her hopes towards house loyalty. After all, Slytherins were always willing to put aside internal squabbles to fight a common enemy. It was one of the consequences of being both influential and disliked in the magical world.

She drew her wand and approached the group, "I think not so much good as foolish. If you are indeed the perpetrator."

[/font]

[Astrid Slater]

Isa was patrolling the hallways, looking out for anyone who wasn't it bed. Why, you may ask, when she wasn't even a Perfect? Well, to be honest, it was because Demitrius hadn't felt like patrolling, so she had taken his badge and gone for him. She sighed. Bella was too nice for her own good. It was a wonder she was even in Slytherin. Of course, if you saw her with a Gryffindor or Hufflepuff, you'd understand. She could be very cruel, when she wanted to be.

And it seemed she was in that mood now. Even though she had volunteered to do this for Demi, it was quite boring. No one was up and about at this time of night. She certainly shouldn't be. Isabela liked her sleep, and this was really cramping her style. How did Demi and Morty do this every night?

Yawning, Isa turned into the east hallway. So far, she'd seen no other Perfect, which was a good thing, she guessed. They would have known she wasn't really one of them. But she'd also not seen anybody out of bed. What was the fun of being a school Perfect, if not to get people into trouble?

The sound of voices slowly drifted her way, just a light hum yet. It could have been anything, if not for the way they spoke. They sounded frantic or worried or maybe even accusatory. What was going on up there?

Hurrying toward the sound of her voices, Isa was relieved that at least something was happening tonight. This would keep her from falling asleep while walking. The sounds got louder, until she turned a corner, to find a group of people clustered around something against the wall.

"What the hell is going on here?" Bella asked, drawing closer to the group.

She recognized maybe two of them. First was Celeste, another Slytherin. The other was Olivia Hall, a girl she knew only by name, because she was the Hufflepuff Quidditch Captain. The boy, she did not know.

When she saw what they were standing over- another boy on the ground- she gasped. He was yet another Slytherin, Tom. He was in her year, which was how she knew him, although they had never met.

Bending down, Isa noticed the signs of shock in his gaze. He also seemed to be cradling his hand. Pressing two fingers against the side of his neck, she sighed in relief as a pulse beat against her fingers.

"You're going to be fine," she said as soothingly as she could, although that was far from how she was feeling. Her voice had shook as she said it, as did her hands now.

Standing, she stood to face the group just standing above Tom. Sneering, she told Celeste, "Put your wand down. There's plenty of time to place the blame later."

Turning to address the general group, she placed her hands on her hips and give her sternest look, the one she used on Demi and Amorte. "Now, a person is on the floor," Isabela said, gesturing to Tom. "I think we should get him to the Hospital Wing, what about you?" Glancing around the group, she gave a sharp nod and then bent down next to her fellow Slytherin. "Is someone going to help me, or will I have to take him there by myself? I really don't want to lift him using magic, just in case of shock."

[celesteknight]

Celeste tilted her head and looked at the Slytherin who had just commanded her to put the wand away. Although she was wearing a prefect's badge, Celeste didn't recall her standing with the other prefects at house meetings or from the occasional run-ins with the nightly patrols. And yet the girl seemed to feel entitled to spit out orders.

I'm not going to put my bloody wand down you ninny! I don't fancy taking a trip to LaLa Land like Mr. Fashionably Sulky here. Not to mention that Hufflemuff girl will probably peel me like a switch once I do.

She fixed a pleasant, neutral look on her face but did not lower her wand. "I must respectfully disagree, Prefect. We would do far better to use magic if he is indeed in shock. Levicorpus will mildly paralyze him to prevent him from moving around and causing more harm to himself. We can add a shielding charm if you are concerned about the effects of using the spell."

Inwardly she chuckled, it would be fitting payback to send the boy's frozen body on a glorious voyage over one of the school stairways. Unfortunately if he was indeed catatonic she wouldn't get the added pleasure of watching him thrash in panic as he sailed downwards to his doom.

But vengeance was best served in a frosted glass over ice and it was better to cooperate with the Slytherin "prefect" for now.

"Regardless, we should move him now and you two should come with us to inform Madam Pomfrey of the circumstances in which you found him." Her green eyes flickered to the Hufflemaiden and the other student with this last remark.

And so I can hear what fantastic new curse you used to do this!

[/font]

[reese]

The burning in his hand spread in all directions, and through the milky translucency of his skin, Tom watched in awe as his veins went black, the poison, or whatever it was, taking to his blood stream. His fingers traced the path of darkness before it disappeared beneath the sleeve of his shirt, leaving the blood free ways in its wake back to their original blue. Even, the mark on the surface of his hand was fading. All of this would have been a relief, had the movement of the substance through his body not brought a torturous pain that felt like every vessel was being lit ablaze. He pushed himself into the wall, his parents had blessed him with the ability to withstand great amounts of distress, but this was a whole new experience.

He gasped for air, a cold sweat making the affliction even more uncomfortable. Tom grabbed at his tie to loosen it in haste, even without it taught around his neck there was a sense of suffocation creeping over him, just as the dark liquid had done. His head shot back, slamming the back of his skull into the wall, his mouth opened in a silent scream of agony, the burning coming to place in his chest. There was a ringing in his ears, and his body was threatening to black out, speckles of white flooded his vision, but he resisted, afraid of what exactly would take over his body when he released control.

There was someone at his side, that he was vaguely aware of, and before long there was another. But they went ignored, his eyes moved rapidly in their sockets, fighting with his brain with how to interpret the visual information presented to him. There was a girl, a dark haired one, and lord was she attrra- NO! Only one girl could have his eyes, his thoughts. He looked down at himself, the form in which his head was attached looked... foreign? Like he was seeing it for the first time. All these contradictions were more painful than the physical hurt that was slowly subsiding, whatever it was that allowed for such moments of pure agony was filtering it’s way out. Or so he hoped.

A new emotion washed over his mind, that seemed to be battling with itself more than usual as to who was in charge, disgust. Not at the idea of a weird ooze contaminating his blood, but at the wretched ensemble that covered this body... his body. ”Wha, the fuck is this monkey suit?” There was a change in his voice, a not so subtle slipping between his normal posh drawl and what could only be described as the voice of a Dubliner. He scowled, lifting the tie between his pointer and middle finger, this would simply not do.

Tom picked himself up from the ground, making an astoundingly quick recovery from the condition of physical torture from his place on the floor. He tore the sports coat off his form, tossing it at a nearby suit of armor where it would hang until some thrifty student knicked it. Next was the tie, the damn thing was strangling him, and was the calling card of the upper class, people he would rather not be associated with. Once out of the more restraining aspects of the clothing, Tom took notice of the students gathered around him, particularly of the dark haired beauty. ”Someone’s a pretty birdy.” But she wasn’t the only thing of interest around, two other girls were in heated talks of what to do with him. ”Oh, more like a ‘ole nest over ‘ere.” There were no longer any traces of his English roots, the voice was entirely foreign, and entirely belonged to someone else.

”Enough of all this blarney yer speakin’, how abou’ you and me go find us a nice space ta get ta know one another.” He pointed at the dark haired girl, the tallest of the three girls, and nodded down the continuing hall.

[Eddie]

Discomfort prickled over his back, a feeling that perhaps he shouldn’t be here, it didn’t matter if he had a nearly prone victim on the floor right now because something was giving him the creeps and if he didn’t get out of here he was going to get in trouble, he just knew it. Eyes scanned guiltily over the figure, his legs moving of their own accord, taking a step back, only for yet another shock to flood his body.

His focus on the fallen figure, staring at his hand as though it was foreign to him, had cost him his nerves again. The voice approaching from the corridor had nearly given him a heart attack, he snapped his head around, a guilty expression covering his swarthy face at the presence of his quidditch captain. “Err, ah ain’ dun this one... if I ‘ad ‘e’d be ou’ cold an’ ah’d be off on me pins.”He muttered, guiltily glancing at the figure on the floor before shrugging and letting a rather wicked grin slip over his features. “ Ah wa’ jus’ gonna mug ‘im.” Though that grin faded when he heard the approach of someone else, his senses on overdrive what with the previous shock.

Bright green eyes turn to glare at the approacher, another female and if Eddie had been in any state to notice he would have said quite attractive but the fact was he had never had much drive to get himself interested in sex, he’d had sex of course but he was usually out of his head and in company of some of the less... respectable women. It was a bigger high for him to successfully get out of a shop with a few grand’s worth of equipment tucked about his person and get it to a fence. Which was probably why he didn’t have any fear of upsetting women or treating them as harshly as he would men. Those green eyes fixed on the approaching figure and glared.

“I ain’ dun nuffin’.” He growled, his deep voice rumbling with indignancy. “Dun’ star’ takin’ this ou’ on me, my arse is clean.” She was another Slytherin it seemed, certainly she was here obviously to protect the young man. Her wand was drawn and Eddie’s own hand flashed into his pocket in a small movement that wouldn’t normally be noticed, grabbing the short and stubby wand and sliding it up his sleeve, he could cast like this.

Yet another voice stirred the air and he glanced up at yet another Slytherin, and this one it seemed was a prefect, about to come and take charge of the situation but there was no way he was going to be dragging this guy around. He gave a glance to the prone figure of Tom only to see something black creeping under the skin on his hands, through the veins. “FUCKIN’ ‘ELL!” Eddie jumped, sliding back from them all, staring at the hand looking rather ill himself. “I ain’ puttin’ my wand down and I ain’ carryin’ ‘im nowhere.” He was probably strong enough to carry Tom over one shoulder in a fireman’s lift. In fact he knew he was because he’d moved bigger than him, mostly his own victims out of sight of the police so he could get away but he wasn’t about to risk himself here.

He turned to glance at the others only to return his green eyes to the now agonised figure on the floor, writhing to take his tie off. The sickening crack noise as the figure’s head collided with the wall was enough to make even Eddie feel a little ill, rubbing the back of his head and knowing exactly how much that would hurt. But it seemed that perhaps the agony was over for the person was looking himself up and down as though he had never seen himself before. Eddie was really getting the creeps now but was reluctant to leave his team captain here alone with those three Slytherins. He had no doubt she could handle herself but he doubted if he would have a place of the team if he did run.

And that was when the figure stood, looking for all the world better and talking in an accent that Ed had heard around in London, he had been told it was Irish though for all he knew it could have been Polish, he’d never watched TV really or had access to a radio so he’d only had people’s word to trust. “Ma’e, you wen’ down a good’un, ya awrigh’?” He asked the figure, eyeing him carefully.

[oliviahall]

Olivia watched the twisted display of the man’s body undergo some form of transformation, one that could only visibly be described as torturous. Her eyes widened at the amount of estimated pain it took to send his head against the wall, hard. The smug expression that had found a home on her lips when she initially arrived on the scene fled as fast as it came. This man may have been the manifestation of all things evil, a copy of the boy that had altered her life, but it was difficult to watch even someone as high ranking as a Slytherin on her hit list endure such horrors. Certainly she would have offered some form of help, had he indeed been of a different house alignment, but as it were her biases got in the way of such a thing.

She was so focused on the writhing form that the approach of two more Slytherins went unnoticed, until one took an authoritative stance and tried to intervene. Beckoned by the accusation against Eddie by that trickster from the bathroom, Olivia set her hands on her hips defensively. ”You should know that this sort of malicious activity is not possible at the hands of a Hufflepuff. If I were going to make any guesses on who is responsible, I’d look no further than your people.” God, the tiny thing couldn’t even give it a rest in such a dire situation, using the opportunity to claim Slytherin superiority. How callous, and Olivia thought she was being insensitive, this girl was colder than the icy fall air.

Just as she was about to snippily reply to the authority figure, who’s face was recognizable from that strange party in the Room of Requirement, the topic of discussion, the injured man, spoke for the first time. Monkey suit? Did he not dress himself? As the figure, who had an odd way of speaking, rose from the floor, Liv wanted to move closer to her house mate, but withheld the urge, knowing that Eddie was more skittish than herself. He spoke again, this time eyeing her in an unmistakable way, there was interest in his gaze, physical attraction. She recoiled and took a step back, her brow furrowing at the way he referred to her.

He had been in immense pain a split second before, and now he was hitting on her? Oh, something was definitely up. ”I’m not going anywhere with you.” Her arms resumed their crossing, tightening around herself. There was a bite to her tone, an obvious disgust lacing her words. No Irish man could get her alone, Scottish girls, now they were capable.

[Astrid Slater]

The Slytherin girl was not help Isa's case at all. In fact, she was defying her authority. Not that Isabela really had any, after all, she wasn't a Perfect. She's just stolen the badge. But she figured that it did come with some kind of responsiblity, despite all that.

Scowling, she was just about to tell her housemate off, when a movement from against the wall turned her focus onto that of Tom. With wide eyes, Isa stared as he scowled at his tie. A monkey suit? What? As far as she knew, that was how he always dressed. Of course, she didn't really know him, so Isabela couldn't say for sure. But there was definatly something different about his voice.

Gasping a bit as he stood, right after sitting on the floor like he was dead, she was just a little shocked. That's why she gripped his arm a bit, just to make sure he was steady. But that feeling quickly passed, just as soon as he hit on the Hufflepuff girl.

Crinkling her nose, she stepped a couple of times, putting a lot of distance between them. That was just so... disgusting. Who hit on a Hufflepuff? Well, besides their own.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Isabela asked, raising an eyebrow.

[celesteknight]

When the Hufflemaiden started in on the usual 'Well only the Evily McEvily Slytherins could do something like this!' Celeste merely rolled her eyes. Slytherins retaliated with vicious, nasty, and above all covert methods. Her plan to pay this fool back for his little prank on George certainly had not involved charging around the corner, wand in hand, to be discovered with the corpse a moment later.

"Does he sound alright?" Celeste snapped irritably, green eyes flashing, "I might not know him personally, but when is the last time you saw this nancy-boy throw a five hundred Galleon suit jacket onto some rusty old piece of armor? Not a moment ago he was nearly catatonic and now he's rambling on about monkeys and blarney and offering to pull a Hufflepuff into the nearest broom closet. And all in some dreadfully plebeian accent."

She sighed with sharp irritation, "Prefect, you must take him to the Hospital Wing now and you won't be able to do it by main force. There is clearly something wrong with him... and I'm sure you recall from the stories of the Great War that not everything in the halls of Hogwarts is all butterbeer and cauldron cakes. You are the Prefect and according to the laws of the school, you have the authorization to use magic on a student if they are severely injured or underneath a harmful enchantment. We don't know how he could endanger himself or us at this point so I urge you to take appropriate precautions."

It was the most logical, reasonable, and secure course of action. Why was it so very impossible for anyone to understand this? House loyalty be damned, she'd get the two Huffleduds to help her if this blithering Slytherin didn't start showing a few leadership skills.

[/font]