Torrential rain swamped Hogwarts for weeks as autumn arrived in Scotland. Giselle had missed the extreme weather while she was in France, the coldness of the highland chills wasn't everyone's cup of tea but she preferred the wind and rain to the muggy heat that suffocated the french students. Despite the fact the palace was hidden in the mountains in the south of France, it never snowed and Giselle missed the icy weather terribly.
Raindrops hammered on the windows of the girls' dormitory, calmly rousing Giselle from her late Saturday morning snooze. The combination of exhausting Quidditch practices and evening catch-up lessons with Professor McGonagall had wiped her out, she wanted to do nothing but sleep for days and thankfully Lily left her to it, she didn't dare wake Giselle up as she had a habit of stunning the brave souls who tried to remove her from her bed. Rubbing her puffy eyes, Giselle yawned and slumped forwards in an effort to get up but she failed stupendously and collapsed onto her cosy duvet with a moan. Maybe five more minutes…
Pop!
The new sound echoed around the room and Giselle suddenly was wide awake, she recognised the familiar sounds of Apparition and it sent chills down her spine. She shot up from her bed and yanked her curtains apart, dubious that she had imagined the noise.
"Mistress!"
Winky blinked up at her, a timid smile spread across her face. She was standing at the foot of her bed dressed in her usual dreary garb, a dark tea towel knotted at her shoulders. The shock of seeing her house-elf at school wiped every thought from Giselle's mind and she stared down at her, mouth agape. The elf hopped from foot to foot in a nervous jig, her bat-like ears flapping.
"Mistress Giselle!" squeaked Winky shrilly, blinking her round, brown eyes, "you must get dressed!"
"Eh?" gulped Giselle, puzzled by her peculiar statement, "what the hell are you doing here, Winky?"
"Master Crouch is waiting for you downstairs! He is wanting a word with you!" she explained in a fast babble and nervously glanced towards the door as though she were expecting someone to burst through at any moment. Sickly rolls of fury suddenly erupted in Giselle's stomach and she curled her hands into tight fists, fighting the oncoming shakes. Her whole day was ruined.
"You've got to be kidding me?!" she groaned, unintentionally scowling at Winky, "I haven't done anything! Why is he here?" Giselle dragged herself out of bed and stomped towards the bathroom, daring to take her time to get ready. If her father wanted to visit then he should have informed her beforehand, his ill-timing wasn't her problem.
Winky sensed Giselle's mischievous intentions, she had witnessed countless arguments between her master and his eldest child and came to recognise what the smirk on her face meant so she followed Giselle into the bathroom with urgency in her step.
"Mistress must hurry, Master Crouch is very busy-," Winky tried to explain but Giselle drowned her out with a laugh.
"I'm busy too! He should have warned me he was coming, that's his fault," she sighed, delicately squeezing paste onto her toothbrush, dragging the action out as long as possible.
"He has Master Barty with him," confessed Winky, hoping it would add some pep into her mistress' step but instead Giselle groaned and clung onto the sink's sides, dropping her head in defeat.
"Noooo!" she whined loudly, filling the bathroom with her anguish, "I've been a good girl! I've avoided Junior for weeks! What do they want?!"
"Winky doesn't know but she wanted to warn Mistress," she said cautiously, patting Giselle on the back, "Winky thinks they have been too harsh on mistress, they've been very mean."
Giselle snorted and continued to get ready, lingering on Winky's kind words. The only member of her immediate family that was on her side was Winky and she was a bloody house-elf! The universe had it out for her, Giselle had never been more certain of anything before.
"Thank you Winky, that means a lot," she muttered dolefully, running a brush through her wild hair to bring her feathered waves to life, "I'm glad someone else sees it, sometimes I feel like I'm going crazy."
"You're not going crazy, they are meaner than you think," she said strongly but her already bulging eyes got wider and she stifled a small squeak. Giselle took no notice of her elvish whimpers, she was used to her habitual murmurs and had trained herself to block them out but her statement made her smile again.
"I think they're pretty damn mean already, I highly doubt that," she said casually, slicking on a lot of mascara - her father hated her new obsession with her appearance so she chose her darkest eyeliner too - and beckoned Winky to follow her as she finally got ready. Her multicoloured ugly sweater and tight corduroy trousers were eye-catching, she knew her father's lip would curl when he saw her and she encouraged that idea by slipping into a pair of stylish orange boots. Winky's look of apprehension confirmed her assumptions and she shot the elf a cheeky wink.
"Let's go and find our darling family," she purred and the pair exited the dormitory.
"They're not waiting in the common room, are they?" wondered Giselle, worried for the safety of her housemates. Her parents and brother were proud Slytherins, they had never step foot in her territory before and the smug house proud trio always jeered that the Gryffindor tower smelt worse than a litter tray. She didn't want to give them the privilege of visiting her home, they didn't deserve it.
"No, Mistress," assured Winky, bouncing down the steps behind Giselle, "they were not allowed inside, that's why Winky is here."
Giselle cackled immediately at the thought of the Fat Lady portrait scolding them for attempting to enter the tower and she made a note to thank her later. "I bet they're so mad!"
Winky chose not to comment.
They burst into the common room and a few heads turned at the sight of the house-elf, muttering amongst themselves to discuss the abnormality but Giselle ignored their eyes and fixated her own eyes on the exit, preparing herself to deal with both of them at the same time. For two people who constantly swore that they hated her, they wanted to spend a hell of a lot of time with her. Winky ran ahead and opened the portrait for her, instinctively serving her family no matter where they were, and Giselle bit her lip as she heard their deep mutters rumbling in the corridor beyond the hole.
"Disgraceful," tutted Junior the second she emerged, looking Giselle up and down, "absolutely disgraceful. You spent all that time up there just to put on that?"
"Is that any way to greet your favourite sister?" she bit back, scrutinising him with just as much condescension as him. Whereas Giselle had her father's thick dark hair, Barty had inherited their maternal grandfather's straw-coloured tresses and he had neatly slicked it back out of his way today. He had the same scattering of freckles on his face that she did and puberty had been kind to him too, his cheekbones were more prominent than the last time she properly saw him and, as well as his name, he shared Bartemius' cold brown eyes. As though to further prove his point that Giselle's muggle stylistic choices were abhorrent, he was wearing his Slytherin robes and his gleaming prefect badge dazzled her momentarily. It was incredibly rare to be in his company without needing to arm herself; they would have started a duel by now if Bartemius wasn't there.
"Enough," barked their father, standing up straight, "Giselle, go and get changed, you look ridiculous." He didn't look her in the eye. He was wearing his pristine expensive work robes, a deep peacock green set embellished with merigold detailing, and his leather boots were shone in the gloomy morning light, he was dressed up for a special occasion and she narrowed her eyes at his freshly cut horseshoe moustache. He wanted something, this was a setup.
"What's going on?" she spat, eyeing them suspiciously, "Why are you here?"
"I will explain once you've put your school uniform on," said Crouch, keeping his eyes on his son who smirked.
"Must we ruin the photograph with a Gryffindor emblem?" drawled Junior, innocently glancing at their father. Giselle's crossed arms fell to her sides and she blinked, fleetingly afraid of what was to come.
"P-Photograph?" she stuttered and she looked down at Winky who was waiting patiently at her side, she knew to stay quiet and hidden, she couldn't give Giselle any hints.
"Uniform - now," ordered Crouch, finally locking eyes with his daughter. They glinted like old copper coins, almost challenging her to snap back, but Giselle didn't rise to the bait. It was too early, she needed to build up to her outburst.
"Whatever," she sighed, flicking her hair over her shoulder as she turned back to the Fat Lady who was sneakily side-eyeing the Crouch family, "see you in half an hour-,"
"Don't start, young lady," scorned Bartemius, triggered by her jabs.
"It was a joke! Honestly, calm down! I'll be quick," exasperated Giselle, staring at her father cynically before whispering the password to the painting. Fighting her smile, the Fat Lady quickly swung open and allowed Giselle to escape before Bartemius exploded.
As much as she wanted to drag this excruciating experience out to further aggravate her father, Giselle rushed up to her dorm and shoved on her school uniform. She didn't wipe off her makeup nor did she completely abandon her contemporary fashion choices; once her opaque stockings were secured she slipped into her black leather platform boots and zipped them up with a devilish smirk. Whatever was going on required her to look presentable, Bartemius wanted her to play along and pretend to be his well-behaved, charming daughter who loved him dearly, yet she wasn't going to comply - it was his own fault, he should have known her better than that.
Giselle ran back down the stairs and darted across the common room but she shuffled to a stop when she noticed the manic group of four ahead, too busy laughing loudly at each other's constant roll of pun to notice her as they blocked the exit. She scoffed and waited for them to leave but her heart started to race as she realised they were going to walk straight into the Barties. Oh no.
"Please don't say anything, for the love of Merlin please keep your fat mouths shut!" Giselle whispered to herself and she cautiously followed the oblivious group of boys. She knew three of the group would be conscious of the tension and seal their lips together but the threat of their fourth member snapping felt like a hot beam of light on the back of her neck, she started to sweat.
"-but we can't do it next week, it's someone's time of the month," hinted James, glaring at the boy beside him.
"I told you not to say that anymore," huffed Remus, his cheeks matching the crimson textbook in his hands, "I prefer the term 'surfing the feral wave'."
"That's worse!" groaned Peter, his face crinkling in repulse.
"No, this is worse! What about-," but Sirius, who was leading the way out, never voiced his own nickname as he had crashed straight into the Crouch men, leaving him speechless. James, fearing the worst, instinctively dragged Sirius away from the disgruntled men but it was too late. Giselle reached the door and took in the scene; she never thought she would see the three men she hated most in the same space and she cringed at the thought of all three of them ganging up to abuse her.
"Watch where you're going, Black," spat Junior, his defensive wall went up immediately
"Watch where you're standing, Crouch," Sirius spat back with even more derision, "you're in the way of our common room."
James' tugs on the back of Sirius' jacket grew more desperate and he looked nervously at Remus who had frozen, his shock had rendered completely useless. Giselle wanted to step in and stop the inevitable fight but a part of her wondered how the trio would interact, her feet planted themselves firmly in the portrait hole and she watched from the shadows, no one had noticed her yet.
"Kindly remove yourselves from this space please," suggested Sirius falsely, smiling widely at the two gentlemen, "you're causing quite the traffic jam, it would be a shame if someone got hurt."
"Sirius, no-," warned James under his breath, struggling to get a firm grip on his best friend's collar since Sirius was constantly batting his hands away.
"Always ready for a fight, you Gryffindors are all the same," tutted Bartemius in repulsion after a moments' pause. He had been sneering at Sirius with the same contempt he usually reserved for Giselle and he was practically transfixed by Black's presence, he had no trouble rising to the boy's bait.
"I say, sir! Is that prejudice I detect in your tone?" gasped Sirius, feigning offence, "that's quite a controversial statement for the Head of the Magical Law Enforcement department to make?"
"Don't you forget that title, boy," growled Crouch, stepping forwards to further his point, "I could ruin your future in seconds, you do not know the extent of my power - now listen to your friend and move along."
"You can't tell me what to do!" laughed Sirius, successfully yanking his jacket from James' hands.
"Padfoot, don't do this!" James whispered furiously.
"Don't embarrass yourself Black," teased Junior, pleasantly enjoying the show with a cocky smile. Watching his father reprimand other people that wasn't himself was always entertaining, he couldn't help it. "You can't charm your way out of this with your snarky comments, don't even try it."
"Come now Barty," Crouch tutted, glancing proudly at his son, "you can't expect Black to comprehend that level of maturity, that requires him to actually think - something he quite clearly hasn't done before."
"Excuse me?!" scoffed Sirius, rather taken aback.
Giselle, who was about to intervene, paused. Maybe I'll wait a little bit longer, he deserves this, she justified to herself.
"I'm surprised to see you're still in attendance here, Black," continued Crouch, caught in the malicious rhythm of snide taunts, "I expected Professor Dumbledore to have expelled you a long time ago."
"Know a lot about expulsions, do you Barty?" snapped Sirius, eager to throw his own sharp comments back at the man before him. He had reached his limit and he clearly couldn't stop himself from mentioning her. "Of course you do, big man such as yourself, you must be so proud! Your daughter is a bigger piece of shit than you are! Congratulations!"
"Sirius, no!" Remus snapped out of his horrified daze and joined James in dragging the ranting boy away.
"Sirius, yes!" Sirius countered.
That's long enough. Giselle straightened her spine and stormed out of the portrait hole, taking her place in between her family and the screaming Sirius. His frown got fiercer when he realised the third Crouch had joined the fray but he stopped struggling against his friends' attempts.
"Speak of the devil and she shall appear! Here comes the worst member of the clan," he hissed, narrowing his eyes and flashing her a cruel smile. A strand of hair had fallen from his loose hair bun and he smoothed it back into place, keeping his eyes locked on Giselle so she could absorb his hatred.
"Don't let me stop you," drawled Giselle, scowling back at Sirius as she crossed her arms, "you were saying, Black?"
"I said you're a piece of shit and you should never have transferred back, we don't want you here," he told her slowly, making sure she heard every word. He knew the statement would hurt her and she hated that he was right. Fighting the cruel whispers in her head that told her his statement was true, she made a rather revolting sound at the back of her throat and looked him up and down.
"I didn't come back here for anyone," she clarified in a tone as equally as patronising, "and I certainly don't trust a word that comes out of your filthy, lying mouth. Your opinion means nothing to me and it never did."
"You're such a manipulative, two-faced bitch-," he started.
"-and you're a hypocritical, self-obsessed prick!" she finished.
"Giselle, come. Leave the poor boy," sniffed Crouch, readjusting the buttons on his robes so the tiny shamrock engravings faced the correct way, "I told you not to waste your time on riffraff."
"You don't need to tell me twice," she said forcefully, spinning on her heel to face her father and brother. Junior rolled his eyes and gave the Gryffindor boys one more inspection to further show his distaste.
"That'll be a first," he snarky muttered under his breath so only she could hear. She chose to ignore him out of spite.
"Running away again, what a surprise!" Sirius called after the retreating Crouch trio but Giselle held her head higher and focused on the backs of the necks of the men straight ahead. She couldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing he had pinpointed her tender spots but she did allow him to have the final word. She glanced down at her shoes once they reached the main staircase hall as the Barties had changed their hasty pace to a slower stroll, both of them were mystified by the sudden eruption between the two Gryffindors and they wanted to pry.
"I can only assume by that display of vulgarity that you are no longer friends with Black?" asked her father formally, the casual question sounded foreign coming from his mouth. He never engaged in small talk with her.
Giselle blinked hard, debating how honest she should be. Their footsteps on the staircase filled the awkward silence for a few seconds but the smug side-eye from Junior tipped her over the edge and she submitted. "We haven't been friends for years. I hate him," she said bluntly.
Crouch looked down at his daughter with an expression she couldn't quite read but something shifted in his beady eyes and he gave her a stiff nod, a gesture that seemed almost positive… or he had an uncontrollable neck spasm, she wasn't sure. The latter seemed more likely.
"I think that's the first smart idea you've had," mused Junior, lazily skimming his hand along the bannister as they descended another set of stairs that had slid into place from the floor below. Giselle resisted the urge to show him her middle finger by shoving her hands into her robes pockets and instead she smiled sweetly at her brother.
"Thanks bro!"
"It seems that you've finally cleaned your ears out and listened to me, Giselle. I've told you a thousand times but I'll tell you again - that Black boy is trouble and you need to stay away from his kind," muttered Crouch, gesturing for his children to follow him onto the third floor. He changed the conversation topic before Giselle had a chance to guffaw at his pointless words. "I hear that you've not been handed any detentions this term."
"Another first, you're full of surprises this year!" Junior snapped again but instinctively bit his tongue as Crouch slipped him a look of warning.
"As incredibly astonishing as it may be, I have been working extremely hard and I'm already miles ahead of my classmates," she relayed her good work to her father in an effort to prove his assumptions of her wrong. "I've been a very good girl, I told you I needed to come back here to concentrate properly."
"She's on the Quidditch team again," snitched Junior, flicking his own middle finger up at Giselle when their father froze in the middle of the corridor and turned his back on him. She silently swore and pinched the bridge of nose, waiting for his roars of disapproval
"It doesn't disrupt my studies, I really don't understand your problem with me being involved in extracurricular clubs?" She defended herself for what felt like the millionth time and looked up at her father in hopes that her recent track record of surpassing his painstakingly low expectations would help her this time.
"A career in Quidditch is pitiful, you would be out of a job by the age of thirty-five," barked Crouch, proceeding to lead the way to the headmaster's office without causing any unnecessary stress. "That is no career."
"No, I'd be retired at thirty-three and rolling in the cash while everyone else is stressed and stuck in their dingy little offices doing the same menial task every single day until they die," she corrected. She had thought this through before, she rejected every push towards working for the Ministry like her father wanted and worked to reiterate her brilliant plan. Her and James had planned their future jobs in their second year, they already thought it through and were still as determined to make it work as they were when they were twelve.
"Your imagination has corrupted your critical thinking; making it onto a professional team is a fool's dream and it takes someone with great ambition and drive to do that, something you lack," said Crouch, searching his daughter's eyes for some sign that she was listening.
"I'm very ambitious and I've got more than enough drive and talent to play for a professional club! If you just came to one of my games then you can see how good I am!" she exclaimed, no trace of spite in her tone. She knew if he saw her fly then he would understand why she needed to do this.
"Fathers awfully busy, Giselle. Do you really think he's got time to come and watch you prance about in front of the school so you can inflate your precious ego?" asked Junior saltily before Bartemius could reply.
She flicked her eyes from her father's stoic expression to her brother's smarmy face but as he crossed his arms his sleeve slipped and she spotted the bandage wrapped around his forearm. Giselle froze, skeptical of Junior's injuries. Did she really hurt him that badly?
"How's the arm, Junior?" cooed Giselle, drawing attention to his wound, "it's been nearly two months now, can't you figure out a way to heal it?"
"Don't call me Junior!" He flared up the instant he heard the nickname and went to pounce at his sister - she expected this, he tried to attack her every time she said it. She welcomed his attacks, however, and gladly leapt toward him to initiate the physical fight but Crouch roared and ripped the pair apart, his face was a raging shade of aubergine and his groomed moustache quivered as he forced them to stand still. Giselle ignored the sharpness of his fingernails digging into her bicep and continued to glare at Junior who was breathing heavily, trying to calm himself down.
"Stop this childish behaviour right now! We are seconds from entering the headmaster's office for our interview with the Prophet and I will not have the pair of you embarrassing me in front of the reporters," threatened Crouch, pointing his finger at his children as though they were five years old again. "You will answer their questions politely and if either one of you mention Giselle's felonious exploits to the press then both of you will be in serious trouble. Play your part and smile for the cameras."
Giselle bit her tongue to stop herself from joking that he should simply pay the Prophet to keep them quiet again if they slipped up, the nasty gleam in his eye and his twitching hand was enough to make her listen.
"Yes sir," mumbled Giselle.
"Yes Father," grumbled Junior.
Crouch cleared his throat and straightened his robes, assuming his infamous phlegmatic demeanour before they continued onwards to the grand stone gargoyle that guarded Dumbledore's office. They fixed three identical charming smiles onto their faces and climbed the stairs, acting as though they were one big happy family.
FLASH!
Giselle's eyes watered as the camera's light blinded her momentarily but she stayed perfectly still in her chair in front of her parents. Her father kept a hand on her shoulder as a warning to behave and she smiled wider as his fingers dug a little deeper.
"That's the perfect shot," announced Rupert Almeidas, the journalist who had been interviewing the family, and he looked to the headmaster who had been watching the scene with a passive smile. "I must thank you once again for allowing us to use your office, Albus. It's quite rare for us to have a Minister for Magic candidate with school-age children, usually we have to fly around the world to hunt the children down!" He was a profoundly round, tall elderly gentleman with thick oval glasses and the curliest mop of silver hair Giselle had ever seen, he reminded her of an old poodle.
"The pleasure is all mine, Rupert," said Dumbledore graciously, nodding towards the aged journalist, "I always enjoy reading your excerpts, your piece on former Minister Eugenia Jenkins was exceptionally compelling."
Almeidas sighed and nodded gravely, agreeing with the headmaster. "I liked Jenkins a lot, her brother was quite a crackpot though, he caused her a handful of trouble with the Turkish- Ah Rita! My dear!" the reporter interrupted himself to catch his intern's attention, "don't forget to caption the photos this time!" The blonde young woman in the corner stopped scribbling on her notepad to send her boss a pearly grin.
"On it, sir!"
FLASH!
"All done folks!" chirped the young cameraman, throwing a thumb up to the seemingly happy Crouch family who swiftly dropped their aching smiles. Giselle massaged her cheeks and sighed, relieved the family interview was over - she had been sitting down for almost two hours at this point. Her ears were drawn to the conversation between the men nearby but her eye caught the flirty wink from the twenty-something photographer. She cheekily returned it with a slow lick of her bottom lip and his tanned face burst with colour, his cheeks flushing strawberry red. During the photoshoot, she noticed his eyes lingering on her legs and she had quite a lot of fun teasing him, it took her mind off the loathsome act her family were putting on
"I must say that's the quietest you two have ever been," commented Adelaide lightly, stepping away from behind Junior's chair to inspect her children, red lips pursed. "What are you two planning?"
"Nothing," said Junior, rolling his eyes at Adelaide, "Can I go?"
"Wait until your father dismisses you," said their mother disapprovingly, tutting at her son's abruptness. "He wants a word with you before we leave," She smiled at the sight of Bartemius shaking Almeidas' hand as the men laughed heartily.
"Another one?! He's shouted at us today already," scoffed Giselle with a bitter pout, "please can we go, Mother?"
"He'll only take a moment, be patient!" Adelaide sighed in exasperation, sliding her tasseled handbag down her gloved arm to place her hands on her hips, "I know you think your father is your enemy but he means well."
"My definition of meaning well is very different to yours," snarked Giselle, shrugging. "I played my part, the Incidences-We-Do-Not-Mention weren't brought up in front of the journalists, Junior and I didn't start a fight-,"
"Stop calling me that!" hissed Junior, subtly reaching for his wand, "we haven't started a fight yet-,"
"-and the whole of Britain now believes that Father has the perfect family so his stupid image isn't ruined and he's still the favourite choice!" finished Giselle, ignoring her brother's attempts to bait her into brawling.
"Exactly, I think your father wants to praise you for your behaviour, I know that must be difficult for you to believe," snapped Adelaide, bending down slightly as her daughter was still in her seat. "Just wait, Giselle!"
Giselle huffed and bit her bottom lip, finally obeying her parent's orders.
Thankfully the press team's departure was brisk (Giselle caught the bashful photographer's eye one last time with another wink, amplifying his blush) and Bartemius faced his children for the final time with a straight-lipped smile. Giselle winced slightly, it looked like he was in pain. Was praising her really this hard?
"Barty, of course, you were charming. Keep up the good work," he said, acknowledging his fidgeting son first. Junior smoothed back his hair and dazzled his parents with another smile.
"Thank you Father, I aim to please," she said dryly but his sarcasm went unnoticed by their parents.
"And you," Bartemius looked to Giselle who smiled, "...you did well."
Don't ruin the moment, she told herself, one more minute and he's gone.
"Thank you Father," she said quietly. Crouch waited, expecting a rude remark, but after a few tense moments he continued.
"Your first Quidditch game, when is it?" he barked.
"On the eleventh," stuttered Giselle, gobsmacked. He never asked her for a date before. Instead of gracing her with an answer he issued another stiff nod. Adelaide, delighted at this measly exchange, kissed her children on their cheeks and followed her husband to the fireplace where Dumbledore stood waiting for them. In a flurry of emerald tongues of fire, the Crouch parents were gone.
Junior jumped the gun and excused himself from the room with a spiteful glare, ignoring Dumbledore's pleasant well wishes. Giselle smiled sheepishly at the headmaster with a small apology for her brother's rudeness.
"Always the gentleman, our Junior," she laughed and she earned one of Dumbledore's rare roguish smirks.
"Take care, Miss Prewett," he said softly, his bright blue eyes sparkling in the dreary daylight that filled his office, "and if I do say so myself, I'm rather looking forward to your first match back. Minerva mentioned that a couple of her old Quidditch teammates were thinking about attending the Gryffindor games this year."
"Oh?" prompted Giselle, thirsty for more intel. By the twitching of his beard she knew he was trying to tell her something.
"Yes, but you didn't hear that from me," he winked, amused by her sudden gasp of amazement. Were professionals coming to Hogwarts to scout? She needed to find James.
"What? You didn't say anything, sir! Good day!" she said impishly.
Blinding her headmaster with one last pretty smile, Giselle left his office with her mind set on hunting down Potter to gossip about McGonagall's Quidditch friends. When she emerged into the corridor, however, all of her thoughts were knocked out of her head as Junior's shoulder barged her into the nearest wall.
"What the fuck-," moaned Giselle but his hand wrapped around her neck, threatening to crush her windpipe.
"For the third time, Giselle," he growled, almost nose to nose with her. "Do not call me Junior. I am nothing like that fool."
"Ugh!" rasped Giselle, scratching at his hand as he gradually lifted off her feet. "Yeah you're definitely proving me wrong right now." She couldn't look anyway except into his eyes, they were fierce and deadly and they betrayed his need to hurt. She had seen it before, she knew what came next. She clawed at his arm, fighting her hardest to throw her much physically stronger brother away, but as she grabbed him she realised he was holding her up with his bandaged arm - he had no trouble using it at all.
"Wow," choked Giselle, her freckled cheeks losing colour as oxygen seeped from her brain, "is your arm feeling better, Junior?"
Giselle's skull smacked into the stone wall as Junior punched her in her jaw, she felt her bottom lip burst under his knuckles and her eyes lost all focus, she couldn't shake the dizziness away. Satisfied with her whimper, he dropped his sister like a sack of rotting potatoes and dared to spit at her feet.
"Don't cross me, Giselle. I'm warning you," snarled Junior, his whole body trembling from his brazen shot of adrenaline, "you don't know you're messing with anymore."
"You're no threat to me," she attempted to giggle but the movement triggered the tender nerves in her jaw and she winced, licking the dribbles of blood from her lip. "Now, fuck off."
Without another word, Junior stormed off down the corridor and disappeared around the corner with a flourish of his robes, she knew she wouldn't see him again for a while - he may have been an evil bastard but he was smarter than he let on, the kind of duel he wanted to start was forbidden on school grounds.
Giselle dragged herself up from the floor with a groan, straightened her uniform to hide any signs of her scuffle, and limped back up to the Gryffindor tower with her mind set on going straight back to sleep.