The foreign students arrived on Halloween. The Beauxbatons students, as Philippe had told her they would, came in a huge carriage drawn by giant flying horses. Among those were Philippe Callais, and a stunning blonde girl with a rather haughty expression, whose name Fallon later found out was Fleur Delacour.
The Durmstrang students did not arrive by flying carriage. Rather, they came in a ship that emerged from the middle of the lake. The rest of Hogwarts looked at them rather suspiciously, as they looked at the Slytherins, but Fallon's house welcomed them. Among that group was probably the most famous student present, outside of the Potter boy. Viktor Krum, Seeker of the Bulgarian team that had competed in the Quidditch World Cup, slouched towards their table with the rest of his schoolmates, and though the other houses still looked at both the Durmstrang and the Slytherin students with suspicion, Fallon caught more than one envious glance directed at their table for being chosen to host Krum.
A few days after the arrival of the foreign students, a Goblet of Fire was placed on the High table, for students of age 17 or above to enter their names for competing in the tournament.
Warrington got up one morning fairly early, and dropped his name into the Goblet. Needless to say, the Slytherin students all hoped that he'd be chosen; even Fallon, who never agreed with anything he said or did on principle, conceded that a Slytherin student representing the school would be preferable to someone from the other houses.
And then, when it was time to announce the champions, there was a great shock.
The Delacour girl who by then already had a significant portion of the males in the school drooling after her was chosen to represent Beauxbatons.
Viktor Krum was chosen to represent Durmstrang.
And Cedric Diggory, Hufflepuff pretty boy, was chosen to represent Hogwarts...... but then, the Goblet of Fire shot out ANOTHER name.
Fallon supposed that it could only be expected that Harry Potter, being underage aside, would be chosen.
* * *
The next few weeks, the school was in a blur, as students speculated wildly about how Potter managed to pass through the Age line. Draco Malfoy and several Slytherins younger than Fallon started a virulent Anti-Potter campaign, wearing badges that flashed the words "Support Cedric Diggory, the REAL Hogwarts Champion" as well as the words "Potter Stinks".
Xanne would be rather annoyed at these antics, saying that obviously, Potter couldn't have crossed over the line himself, and it wasn't exactly his fault that he was going to be competing. Fallon, for her part, simply rolled her eyes and refused a badge when offered one. HONESTLY! Rivals with Potter or not, it was a bit TOO undignified to support a Hufflepuff pretty boy JUST to irritate the Boy-Who-Lived.
But really, none of this affected her very much until the day of the November Hogsmeade visit.
* * *
Fallon had stayed behind that day. For extra points to their houses, she and Hufflepuff student Kyle Holden had been asked by Professor Sprout to harvest the extract from certain plants to make certain potions for the Infirmary. She had agreed, primarily due to the fact that, with the Support Diggory badges, several Slytherins had gotten points taken by indignant Gryffindor Prefects. She disliked Holden greatly, and he returned her animosity; the two had been enemies since their first Potions class together their first year.
So, Fallon and Holden worked in stony silence in the greenhouse, collecting the orange goo from the plants that Sprout had specified. Finally, after she'd collected the required five vials and left them in the box that Professor Sprout had left for them, she stepped back a little bit and raised an arm to brush some loose hair from her face.
And in a split second, found herself trapped. Her moving arm had brushed against a large, climbing plant, which had then shot out vines around her wrists and ankles, holding her immobile. Fallon frowned. What the devil?
"Oi, Holden, a Severing charm right now would be nice!"
But Holden, when he saw her tied down, stopped, and his eyes took on a malicious look. He advanced on her, a smile of ill intent on his face. Fallon narrowed her eyes.
SLAP!!
His hand caught her across the face. Fallon felt her eyes water, but resolutely blinked it away. NEVER in her life had she been slapped before!
"Not so tough now, are you, bitch?" he ground out, "That was for punching me first day of school."
"How very courageous of you," Fallon felt a hint of trepidation, but managed to keep it out of her disdainful voice, "To slap a lady, and one who is tied down at that! You'd never DARE to come close to me otherwise!"
"Perhaps," he mused, then leered at her, "But since you ARE tied down... For a bitch, you're not bad-looking..." His hand reached out for the top of her robes, and gave a hard yank. There was the harsh sound of ripping fabric, and then, he shoved himself forward, pressing his body indecently against hers. His hands were brutal on her body, pinching, scratching... Fallon found herself panicking as she struggled against the assault... this was WRONG! No matter what she did, she did NOT deserve this! NO! It wasn't supposed to be like this!
Her uniform blouse had been ripped open, and his left hand was straying under the skirt while his right pulled harshly, painfully on her hair. There was hardness against her stomach, and Fallon squirmed and struggled, screaming on the top of her lungs. But there was no one there, and no one heard her.
And then, just as he was about to yank her skirt entirely out of the way, her struggling caused one of the vines to loosen from an ankle. Fallon gave a half-sigh, half-sob of relief, and acted on the fighting instinct that she had honed for years. Quickly and sharply, she brought her knee straight up, and Holden froze before falling to the ground, howling in pain, his voice an octave higher than the usual. But by now, she was beyong caring, beyond gloating. He was off of her, and with the last burst of strength from her body, she tore herself away, vines and all, and ran out of the greenhouse.
She did not see anyone in the hallway on her mad dash to the Slytherin Common Room. Most students were still at Hogsmeade, and had she been capable of coherent thought at the moment, she would have been grateful that there was no one around to see her like this. The tears started, and she could not see.
She choked out "Ars longa, vita brevis." to the snake charmer, and rushed headlong into the Common Room, to her home, her sanctuary, where she could rage and scream and cry, and it would be okay someday.
* * *
Cassius Warrington was alone in the Common Room. There was going to be a nigh bloody impossible test in Advanced Arithmancy on Monday, and he had forewent the Hogsmeade so that he could finish going over his notes for it. He was just putting away his books when someone stormed into the Common Room, and he heard the sharp gasps of someone crying too hard to breathe properly.
Surprised, he'd turned around, and felt his shock grow tenfold. A girl. Tall, slender, dark hair. Fallon Anderson... in most cases, he'd have a snarky remark on the tip of his tongue. But when he saw the state she was in... there were friction burns on her wrists, which were encircled by torn, dirty vines. Her robes and unform were both torn, the pale skin visible through the rips marred with bruises. There was a hand print on her face, where it looked like she'd been slapped. Fallon... crying?
What in the world had happened to her?
"Fallon?" he said rather uncertainly.
She had not even really noticed his presence until he had uttered her name. But when he did, she gave a blind spring forward, launching herself into his arms. He stumbled backwards, eyes wide, as her small hands fisted around handfuls of his robe, and she buried her face in the crook of his neck, crying bitter, broken tears.
Bloody hell.
Sure, at any other time, having a beautiful woman throw herself in his arms would be quite the happy occurrence, but Warrington was, at the moment, too shocked to think about that. There was only one thought going on in his mind. 'Fallon... crying?' In all the years that he had known her, he had never seen her shed a single tear, nor had he ever seen her clinging to anyone, much less him, like he was the only thing that kept her from falling over a precipice or drowning beneath a raging ocean.
And so, he did the only thing he could. Somewhat uncomfortably, he put his arms around her and let her cry it out, trying to figure out just what had happened to her.
Finally, the tears subsided somewhat, and she caught her breath, gulping in the burning cold air. He loosened his hold on her, though her body still shook with the dying sobs, and asked her what had happened.
There were footsteps outside the Common Room entrance, and her eyes widened fearfully. "People... coming... not here..."
Warrington sighed and half-led, half-carried her to his dormitory, and sat down on his bed, with her in his lap. "All right. You're not supposed to be here, and Morrigun's going to have my head. Now spill."
Her tongue didn't seem to be working properly. She could not form complete, coherent sentences, but in between her gasps and the choked-out phrases, he could make out the words, "Holden... greenhouse... vine... imprisoned... slap... tried to... tore free... "
His brain processed the meaning of her words, and his hands clenched into fists. That... bloody... BASTARD!
No one... NO ONE was allowed to make Fallon cry. Hell, he'd beaten up someone, once upon a time, for calling her a twit. But no one was allowed to make her cry.
He would deal with the bastard tomorrow, but for now, he had to calm and comfort HER as best he could.
And so, he held her as her breathing finally slowed, and her body stopped shaking. It was likely a few hours, but he had no sense of the time. When he finally looked down at her, he saw that her eyes were closed, and that she had fallen asleep.
And she had not let go of him.
* * *
End Chapter 9
* * *
Poor Fallon ;_;
The Durmstrang students did not arrive by flying carriage. Rather, they came in a ship that emerged from the middle of the lake. The rest of Hogwarts looked at them rather suspiciously, as they looked at the Slytherins, but Fallon's house welcomed them. Among that group was probably the most famous student present, outside of the Potter boy. Viktor Krum, Seeker of the Bulgarian team that had competed in the Quidditch World Cup, slouched towards their table with the rest of his schoolmates, and though the other houses still looked at both the Durmstrang and the Slytherin students with suspicion, Fallon caught more than one envious glance directed at their table for being chosen to host Krum.
A few days after the arrival of the foreign students, a Goblet of Fire was placed on the High table, for students of age 17 or above to enter their names for competing in the tournament.
Warrington got up one morning fairly early, and dropped his name into the Goblet. Needless to say, the Slytherin students all hoped that he'd be chosen; even Fallon, who never agreed with anything he said or did on principle, conceded that a Slytherin student representing the school would be preferable to someone from the other houses.
And then, when it was time to announce the champions, there was a great shock.
The Delacour girl who by then already had a significant portion of the males in the school drooling after her was chosen to represent Beauxbatons.
Viktor Krum was chosen to represent Durmstrang.
And Cedric Diggory, Hufflepuff pretty boy, was chosen to represent Hogwarts...... but then, the Goblet of Fire shot out ANOTHER name.
Fallon supposed that it could only be expected that Harry Potter, being underage aside, would be chosen.
* * *
The next few weeks, the school was in a blur, as students speculated wildly about how Potter managed to pass through the Age line. Draco Malfoy and several Slytherins younger than Fallon started a virulent Anti-Potter campaign, wearing badges that flashed the words "Support Cedric Diggory, the REAL Hogwarts Champion" as well as the words "Potter Stinks".
Xanne would be rather annoyed at these antics, saying that obviously, Potter couldn't have crossed over the line himself, and it wasn't exactly his fault that he was going to be competing. Fallon, for her part, simply rolled her eyes and refused a badge when offered one. HONESTLY! Rivals with Potter or not, it was a bit TOO undignified to support a Hufflepuff pretty boy JUST to irritate the Boy-Who-Lived.
But really, none of this affected her very much until the day of the November Hogsmeade visit.
* * *
Fallon had stayed behind that day. For extra points to their houses, she and Hufflepuff student Kyle Holden had been asked by Professor Sprout to harvest the extract from certain plants to make certain potions for the Infirmary. She had agreed, primarily due to the fact that, with the Support Diggory badges, several Slytherins had gotten points taken by indignant Gryffindor Prefects. She disliked Holden greatly, and he returned her animosity; the two had been enemies since their first Potions class together their first year.
So, Fallon and Holden worked in stony silence in the greenhouse, collecting the orange goo from the plants that Sprout had specified. Finally, after she'd collected the required five vials and left them in the box that Professor Sprout had left for them, she stepped back a little bit and raised an arm to brush some loose hair from her face.
And in a split second, found herself trapped. Her moving arm had brushed against a large, climbing plant, which had then shot out vines around her wrists and ankles, holding her immobile. Fallon frowned. What the devil?
"Oi, Holden, a Severing charm right now would be nice!"
But Holden, when he saw her tied down, stopped, and his eyes took on a malicious look. He advanced on her, a smile of ill intent on his face. Fallon narrowed her eyes.
SLAP!!
His hand caught her across the face. Fallon felt her eyes water, but resolutely blinked it away. NEVER in her life had she been slapped before!
"Not so tough now, are you, bitch?" he ground out, "That was for punching me first day of school."
"How very courageous of you," Fallon felt a hint of trepidation, but managed to keep it out of her disdainful voice, "To slap a lady, and one who is tied down at that! You'd never DARE to come close to me otherwise!"
"Perhaps," he mused, then leered at her, "But since you ARE tied down... For a bitch, you're not bad-looking..." His hand reached out for the top of her robes, and gave a hard yank. There was the harsh sound of ripping fabric, and then, he shoved himself forward, pressing his body indecently against hers. His hands were brutal on her body, pinching, scratching... Fallon found herself panicking as she struggled against the assault... this was WRONG! No matter what she did, she did NOT deserve this! NO! It wasn't supposed to be like this!
Her uniform blouse had been ripped open, and his left hand was straying under the skirt while his right pulled harshly, painfully on her hair. There was hardness against her stomach, and Fallon squirmed and struggled, screaming on the top of her lungs. But there was no one there, and no one heard her.
And then, just as he was about to yank her skirt entirely out of the way, her struggling caused one of the vines to loosen from an ankle. Fallon gave a half-sigh, half-sob of relief, and acted on the fighting instinct that she had honed for years. Quickly and sharply, she brought her knee straight up, and Holden froze before falling to the ground, howling in pain, his voice an octave higher than the usual. But by now, she was beyong caring, beyond gloating. He was off of her, and with the last burst of strength from her body, she tore herself away, vines and all, and ran out of the greenhouse.
She did not see anyone in the hallway on her mad dash to the Slytherin Common Room. Most students were still at Hogsmeade, and had she been capable of coherent thought at the moment, she would have been grateful that there was no one around to see her like this. The tears started, and she could not see.
She choked out "Ars longa, vita brevis." to the snake charmer, and rushed headlong into the Common Room, to her home, her sanctuary, where she could rage and scream and cry, and it would be okay someday.
* * *
Cassius Warrington was alone in the Common Room. There was going to be a nigh bloody impossible test in Advanced Arithmancy on Monday, and he had forewent the Hogsmeade so that he could finish going over his notes for it. He was just putting away his books when someone stormed into the Common Room, and he heard the sharp gasps of someone crying too hard to breathe properly.
Surprised, he'd turned around, and felt his shock grow tenfold. A girl. Tall, slender, dark hair. Fallon Anderson... in most cases, he'd have a snarky remark on the tip of his tongue. But when he saw the state she was in... there were friction burns on her wrists, which were encircled by torn, dirty vines. Her robes and unform were both torn, the pale skin visible through the rips marred with bruises. There was a hand print on her face, where it looked like she'd been slapped. Fallon... crying?
What in the world had happened to her?
"Fallon?" he said rather uncertainly.
She had not even really noticed his presence until he had uttered her name. But when he did, she gave a blind spring forward, launching herself into his arms. He stumbled backwards, eyes wide, as her small hands fisted around handfuls of his robe, and she buried her face in the crook of his neck, crying bitter, broken tears.
Bloody hell.
Sure, at any other time, having a beautiful woman throw herself in his arms would be quite the happy occurrence, but Warrington was, at the moment, too shocked to think about that. There was only one thought going on in his mind. 'Fallon... crying?' In all the years that he had known her, he had never seen her shed a single tear, nor had he ever seen her clinging to anyone, much less him, like he was the only thing that kept her from falling over a precipice or drowning beneath a raging ocean.
And so, he did the only thing he could. Somewhat uncomfortably, he put his arms around her and let her cry it out, trying to figure out just what had happened to her.
Finally, the tears subsided somewhat, and she caught her breath, gulping in the burning cold air. He loosened his hold on her, though her body still shook with the dying sobs, and asked her what had happened.
There were footsteps outside the Common Room entrance, and her eyes widened fearfully. "People... coming... not here..."
Warrington sighed and half-led, half-carried her to his dormitory, and sat down on his bed, with her in his lap. "All right. You're not supposed to be here, and Morrigun's going to have my head. Now spill."
Her tongue didn't seem to be working properly. She could not form complete, coherent sentences, but in between her gasps and the choked-out phrases, he could make out the words, "Holden... greenhouse... vine... imprisoned... slap... tried to... tore free... "
His brain processed the meaning of her words, and his hands clenched into fists. That... bloody... BASTARD!
No one... NO ONE was allowed to make Fallon cry. Hell, he'd beaten up someone, once upon a time, for calling her a twit. But no one was allowed to make her cry.
He would deal with the bastard tomorrow, but for now, he had to calm and comfort HER as best he could.
And so, he held her as her breathing finally slowed, and her body stopped shaking. It was likely a few hours, but he had no sense of the time. When he finally looked down at her, he saw that her eyes were closed, and that she had fallen asleep.
And she had not let go of him.
* * *
End Chapter 9
* * *
Poor Fallon ;_;