a/n: Mild mentions of abuse.
Seduced by Rules
Adrian Pucey was, to be put mildly, seduced by rules.
Rules of any kind, actually. Grammar rules, arithmetic rules, school rules, Quidditch rules. He did his best to follow every one of those rules – even the Quidditch rules, a rarity for a Slytherin.
His teammates were often at ends with him about it. "Why don't you go into Hufflepuff, then, if you're so obsessed with following every rule to the letter?" Marcus Flint hissed at him one time. "Blood traitor."
Adrian tensed. "Blood traitor," the words echoed in his ears. "Blood traitor, blood traitor, blood traitor." Words he had heard far too often at home, directed towards him.
Then, he slowly stared at Flint, drawing up his wand and tilting up his chin a notch. "I swear," he whispered fiercely, "I swear, if you don't stop..."
"You'll hex me?" Marcus Flint snickered, sneering at him. "You're too much of a pansy for that." He turned to his cronies. "Come on, boys. Let's leave this twat and go jinx some Hufflepuff firsties."
Adrian watched them leave, and then, breathing heavily, threw his wand to the floor. He tucked his chin into his knees. Why couldn't he have the nerve to break one rule one time? Why did he have to be such a – such a ruddy blood traitor?
The answer floated up to him immediately. Wild grey eyes. A whip. The smell of Firewhiskey on one's hot breath. Drunken yells. Days of keeping himself invisible at home. Adrian shut his eyes at the images.
Perhaps rules were just his way of escaping it all. An illusion of safety at and away the home that wasn't really a home. A tiny little comfort to a damaged Slytherin. Some stability in a life that had none.