Explanation: Alright, I know you're sick of shameless little ficlets from me, but I couldn't resist. The Valentines Day challenge was just calling my name. And I decided to take a stab at this lovely little match made in…somewhere. Well, I don't usually dedicate fics either, but I think I'll have to make an exception. This one's for our fearless leader and insane ficcing fanatic, Thalia. Hope you enjoy my meager attempt at a F/W story. Thanks a bunch to Ravyn as well, who helped me plot a bit of it. ~Xanne
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Knives from a Knave
He cradled his head in his hands. How stupid could he have been? Valentines Day was completely pointless unless you have someone to share it with. For one time in his life, Cassius Warrington could say he did.
It was common knowledge that Fallon Anderson was, in fact, a bitch. There was no other way to put it. But she was an amazing bitch...a surprising bitch…and best of all, his bitch. Maybe that last part was not quite accurate. In the sense of the word, he was more her bitch, though he would never, EVER, admit it to anyone.
Being Valentines Day and all, one question might arise in the minds of men everywhere. What to get this special girl. With Fallon, the usual attempts would somehow fall short and he'd be left regretting it and suffering from 'quidditch' withdrawal. She probably wouldn't deny jewelry, but that just seemed too cliched. He knew what she wanted, but weaponry just didn't seem…safe. Ignoring his instinct, he had purchased the butterfly knives and hidden them at the bottom of his trunk. There was still time to back down and return them. But he hadn't gotten that paranoid…yet. Giving them to her would be a brave gesture though; he had to give it that.
"Oh, suck it up Warrington," he muttered to himself darkly before deciding that he would think about it in the morning. Somewhere between incessant worrying and countless attempts to clear his mind, the chaser's eyelids slipped closed and his thoughts took over.
* * *
He awoke with a start, the door to the dorm was thrown open and he watched intently as a figure in black robes flew by him and came to a halt at his bedside. It brought along with it an icy chill. It was then that he saw the face.
"What the hell are you doing in my room?" he asked, shocked.
"Show some respect Cassius, have you no clue who I am?" the figure boomed.
"Yes, you tend to flock around with Fallon and her group of quidditch distractions." He stated plainly, folding his arms over his chest and scowling. "And you're also dating that scar headed Potter, so what are you doing in my room in the middle of the night?"
"I'm afraid you're mistaken. You see, I am the merely a messenger. You have taken on quite a challenge in Fallon Anderson. There are plenty of easy targets in this school, but you like a challenge, now don't you?" she grinned.
"Do you have a point? Or are you merely here to tell me things I already know?"
"Well, I rarely have a point," a sly grin appeared from under the black hooded robes. "But this time I'm afraid I do. I know of the trepidation you face over this upcoming holiday, if you can call it that."
"So, you seem to know Fallon, I don't think you would buy her sharp things either."
"Of course not, but I'm telling you that if you make the wrong decision…let's just say some rather unpleasant things may come to pass."
"You mean more unpleasant than being harassed by an obnoxious Slytherin girl-."
"Spirit," she cut in.
"-An obnoxious Slytherin spirit when I could be dreaming of Fallon or quidditch…or Fallon and 'quidditch,'" Warrington smirked.
"As I already told you," she rolled her eyes. "I am merely a messenger. I am warning you ahead of time. Three spirits shall visit you, each on the hour. They are the ghost of Valentines past, the ghost of Valentines present and the ghost of Valentines future."
"So basically I don't get to sleep?" he grimaced.
"Exactly, but I'm afraid I must be off," the spirit sighed before backing away from the green four poster bed. A black robed arm rose from her side and a hand peeked out. She snapped her fingers dramatically, but nothing happened. Undaunted, she tried again…and nothing happened. Becoming quite irritated, she turned to walk out, muttering all the while. "Okay, so I don't get an exit with smoke. I couldn't charm my way out of a paper bag. I really need Morrigun for this sort of thing."
"But you said-," Warrington started. Had she not clearly stated she was not one of Fallons friends?
"Oh shut up and go to sleep!" she flung the door closed.
Once again, Warrington shot straight up in his bed. He looked around frantically. It had been a dream. It was all just a very odd and unpleasant dream.
* * *
Then, the clock on Montague's bedside table went off, clinging twelve times exactly. It was midnight. Warrington leaned back and rested his head on his arms, but before he could close his eyes, the door of the dorm opened once more. This time it was a bit more gently. But just as last time, a black clad figure walked across the floor and faced him.
"Have you come to scold me too?" he demanded, recognizing Draco Malfoy's girlfriend instantly (it was no surprise he had become used to her, as they were hardly ever parted). "Or have you lost the way to Draco's dormitory? It's down the hall on the left. And be sure to tell the rest of Fallon's friends that could possibly be requiring sleep sometime in the next decade."
"I am exactly where I mean to be," she said flatly. "But I think you're a bit confused. I am here to show you something you might not remember. I am the ghost of Valentines past, and I'm afraid that's where I must take you."
"Sorry to burst your bubble De Borgia, but I'm not going anywhere except back to dreamland…wait, who's to say that's not where I am right now?"
"It's truly hard to believe Fallon puts up with you," she reached out and before he could move, she grasped his arm and he felt himself being pulled out of bed. Suddenly the room was swirling and Warrington was getting a bit dizzy.
After a few seconds, everything came back into focus, but he wasn't in his room. He was standing in the center of the common room. It was filled with students, which was incredibly rare for the Slytherin domain. The students looked different somehow. They were all very animated, but were lacking color. He scanned the entire room and his eyes fell on the figure beside him. De Borgia and he were the only figures in living color.
"Watch them," she instructed.
Reluctantly, he obeyed and watched. Oddly enough, every face in the room was incredibly familiar, and yet contrasted from everyone he was used to.
Then it dawned on him. It was the quidditch team, among other students, in their second year. Warrington couldn't help but smile at the innocence of it all. He watched as they rushed around with little bags, each bearing their name.
Little Marcus Flint held his tightly as he shoved his hand inside and pulled out several sweets with notes attached. He looked at the tags and began dropping them back into the bag until he found what he seemed to be looking for. Pulling the wrapper off of the one lollypop he had left, Flint reread the note and cast a devilish smirk across the room at a group of girls and popped it into his mouth. One face looked back at him with a smirk to rival his own, none other than a twelve year old Akasha Noctifer.
A shriek sounded from the corner of the room and Warrington snapped around, assuming someone was being murdered. No such luck, but a girl was running directly at him. Of course she didn't see him there, it was only a memory, but he moved out of the way nonetheless. A boy quickly chased after her, holding a rose in his hands.
"Kate, I bought it for you!" he called after her. Warrington chuckled; leave it to Kevin Bole to become a romantic before the girls are ready for him.
Several little scenes were playing out around him, but as he looked over to the couch his stomach fell. He remembered the day more clearly now. Sitting there on the couch, alone, was a twelve-year-old Fallon Anderson. On the table in front of her sat a small cauldron, into which she poured several steaming vials of liquid. After a moment or so the potion in the cauldron turned bright orange and she smirked slyly, looking around impressively.
Lying discarded next to her was her own paper bag. That was where she intended to keep it too. Valentines Day wasn't a really holiday anyway, just a waste of time and money. It wasn't a concern of hers if anyone had magically sent her a valentine. She didn't bother to check, until her bag stirred and her eyes snapped to it dangerously. Instinctively she reached out a hand and overturned the bag. Onto the couch fell a small pink heart with a chocolate frog taped onto its back. She opened it in a businesslike manner and scanned the message.
Warrington sighed, remembering the even more clearly. He also remembered exactly what the valentine said, having sent it himself.
Dear Fallon,
Gryffindor's red,
Ravenclaw's blue,
You think I'm a git,
And maybe it's true
Have a happy Valentines Day Fallon
Your Secret Admirer
He turned his head to see a small boy trying to look casual as he leaned against the mantle with a few of the housemates around his age. Every so often, he would steal a gaze at the lone girl on the couch. She smiled and pocketed the Valentine after throwing the chocolate frog backward over her shoulder. The boy couldn't help but grin, she had liked the valentine, but was none the wiser about who had sent it. Unfortunately, she had glanced over just as the younger Cassius Warrington grinned.
She stood from her spot on the couch and purposefully strode over to where he stood, surrounded by the rest of the Slytherin boys. To say that there were butterflies in his stomach was clearly an understatement. Who came up with that anyway? It was more like having freaking owls in his stomach at that moment. All of the young boys were looking from Fallon to Warringon, waiting for one of them to say something.
"Did you send this Cassius?" she asked wryly, pulling the pink heart out of her pocket. The younger Warrington looked increasingly uncomfortable as the eyes of his housemates fell on him. His hands began to shake. He began to think that the whole situation was ridiculous and finally spoke up.
"Of c-course I didn't," he stammered slightly. "What kind of daft bloke would want to send a vile wench like you a Valentine?"
Her expression changed, as if she had been slapped. But she was not one to be humiliated. Thinking on her feet, she pulled out her wand and quickly reached into the boy's pocket to retrieve his. She muttered a spell and placed her hands on her hips and glared at him, looking quite satisfied. A small wispy heart with a chocolate frog attached to it floated in the air in front of him.
"A daft bloke like you obviously," she shoved his wand back into his waiting hand and spun on her heel before retreating down the hall towards the girls' dorms.
The older Warrington watched her leave, while the younger turned an unflattering shade of crimson and faced his housemates who had begun to laugh uproariously. The older simply could not ignore the fact that though Fallon had just humiliated him, her eyes had a slightly glassy appearance as she stormed off.
"Is there any reason why you're making me watch this?" he asked, the spirit standing next to him. But she wasn't paying attention; her eyes had drifted off towards a small blonde haired boy who was fleeing a particularly homely girl in pigtails that was chasing him around the room. She muttered something that vaguely resembled 'Parkinslut' before she faced Warrington.
"Yes, but you're not supposed to understand that yet. Do you feel bad because of what you just saw?"
"Of course I do! But how is that supposed to help me?" He narrowed his eyes at her, becoming annoyed once more.
"Oh, you'll just have to wait," she snapped her fingers and the room vanished.
Warrington found himself staring at the ceiling of his dorm. After scanning the circular room and finding that he was alone once again, he rolled over angrily and tried to fall asleep once and for all.
Montague's clock went off again, it was now one AM and he still hadn't fallen asleep. Now, to add to his increasing anxiety about Fallon's Valentines Day present, he had insomnia. It was just perfect.
* * *
Big surprise, the door to his dormitory opened for the third time that night. And in strode yet another black figure. Warrington sat up and folded his arms, waiting for whatever explanation this one had.
"Go ahead, what do you want?" he ordered.
"Bit testy are we?" the spirit (but surprise again, it was a girl) giggled. He vaguely remembered that her lips were often welded to Adrian Pucey's. "I'm here to help; you might want to be a bit more grateful."
"Alright, fine, do that spinney thing. Take me somewhere and show me something I completely fucked up with Fallon." He threw his hands up, exasperated.
"Sorry, I'm just taking you on a walk. Get your lazy arse up out of that bed and come with me."
"Voluntarily? If I have a choice in this, I choose slumber, goodnight crazy spirit-bint," he made to lie down, but found himself floating in the air before his head hit the pillow. The girl had a wand out and began to walk him through the door and out of the dormitory.
After a bumpy trip, in which she took no care to make sure he didn't hit things, Warrington found himself outside a door with a silver placard on it. It was a prefect's room, but there were quite a few voices coming from within it. A bit intrigued, he waited until the spirit opened the door.
Once again the figures were a bit discolored, but he definitely recognized all of them. The legion of girls was quite memorable. They all lounged around the room in their nightclothes, each one gushing about something or other.
"I think we'll go for a moonlit walk, and maybe he'll read a sonnet or two," one of them said, sitting back against the wall. "And since French is 'la langue d'amour,' I think Alexander and I will be speaking it quite a bit."
"Well I'll probably go for a ride on his broomstick," another went on, before blushing as the girls smirked knowingly. "I was quite literal in saying that. Oliver will probably take me flying over the lake and grounds."
"What about you Jeannie?" the one wearing the prefect's badge asked.
"Jason's already told me what he has planned. We're having a picnic on the northern grounds, candles and everything," her eyes lit up.
"That sounds so romantic," said one with short black hair.
"And how about you Xanne? What are you and the boy wonder getting up to this V-day," Jeannie smirked.
"As long as it doesn't involve playdoh, I'm set," all of the girls grinned and began to shake their heads. Then, she said something to catch Warrington's attention. "So Fallon, what's the swarthy git have planned?"
"Let's just hope he doesn't blow something up," she rolled her eyes. Warrington scowled indignantly before falling out of the air and onto the stone floor.
"Oops," the spirit mused. "I'm terribly sorry about that. But I'm afraid my time's up."
"What, that was barely five minutes!"
"For your information, it's been a lot longer than five minutes. And as such, I must dash." She snapped her fingers and Warrington found himself face down on his pillow in his four poster.
* * *
For the third time, Montague's clock rang out in the silence and Warrington let out a muffled growl into his pillow. What in god's name had he done to deserve such a punishment?
"Wake up sleeping beauty," said a voice…a male voice! Warrington almost leapt out of his bed. Finally, no more of Fallon's annoying friends! It was probably one of his dorm mates coming in for the night.
Vittorio Derrick stood before him, smiling brightly. Warrington stepped back slowly and sat on his bed. He closed his eyes and reopened them repeatedly, but found the same sight each time. Derrick was wearing a dress.
"Are you-?" Warrington began.
"A spirit?" Derrick asked, flagrantly waving his hand. "Yes, I am also a spirit. The last one, I might add. We need to keep moving, my panty-hose are riding up."
"I definitely did not want to here that," said Warrington, cringing. "Are you going to do the spinney thing and show me horrible things?"
"No, I prefer the poof thing…not to be confused with the pouf thing, which I won't be demonstrating quite yet." Derrick waved his hand once more and everything seemed to vanish in a puff of smoke.
The world around him materialized in the same dim color, but it was his dorm again. The same green beds were lined around the walls. The same trunks were at the foot of each bed. It had barely changed.
"Um, did that work right?"
"Yes, now you just sit back and watch," Derrick said quietly, ushering Warrington to a seat upon his own trunk. Somehow his bed had been made and his trunk was closed, he could have sworn he left it open before he went to bed.
"Watch what?" Warrington asked, raising an eyebrow. But before Derrick could answer, the door opened and in strode a girl with a determined air. Her black hair was pulled back from her head tightly and she walked right towards him. Somehow, she had gotten a hold of the knives she desired so badly, and wielded them before her.
The next few events were a bit painful. Fallon simply walked up to the trunk and Warrington couldn't bear to look, she slashed him right where it hurt. With each clean swipe, pieces flew over the floor and made an awful mess. This was supposed to be a dream, why did it hurt so badly? It was just cruel. Warrington simply sat back as Fallon Anderson hacked away at his manhood. Of all the things that she could have done, she chose the unthinkable. The frightening part was that she knew exactly what she was doing, and the queer smile never came off of her face. She was enjoying every minute of it.
After she had finished, she dropped the knives on the floor and walked out of the dorm as if nothing had happened. It was truly disturbing.
A few moments later, Warrington brought himself to look down at what she had inflicted. He fell to his knees and grabbed a hand full of the pieces off of the floor before letting them fall again. Noticing one particularly large piece, he sighed. You could still read the 'Nimbus 2001' logo perfectly. He clutched it in his hand and turned to Derrick.
"No more," his voice cracked slightly at the end. "I can't bear it. Just take me back."
"Oh, I don't think I'm through with you yet," the beater grinned, advancing slowly. "You see, you didn't get any sleep tonight, so you don't wake up until about 6:00 PM. It's not that nobody wanted to disturb you, it's just that they were all busy with their Valentines. You chose to give Fallon nothing rather than what you had bought her. So she got them herself and vented a little anger."
"What the hell do you think you're doing?!"
"I'm going to have a bit of fun with you first, Cassius," he batted his eyelashes and walked quicker. Warrington was not one to back down from a fight, but this technically wasn't a fight, so he backed up against the wall. He wailed all the while.
"Warrington, wake up!" someone called through his head.
"Noooooooo!"
"Get up man, its 6:00!" they said frantically. Warrington looked up sheepishly and found himself face to face with Vittorio Derrick, though minus the dress.
"Um, thanks Derrick," Warrington jumped up and walked around the opposite side of the bed from his teammate. "I'm up now, you can just…leave."
"Alright," he shrugged and left the dorm.
Running his hands through his dark hair, Warringon made himself a silent promise. He would not sit back and what he had just seen happen again. He would give Fallon her ruddy knives as soon as he saw her.
* * *
Being so late in the evening, the common room was all but deserted. Oddly enough, lying on the very same couch as in his dream was the one girl he wanted to see. Her long, dark hair was hanging down and framing her face in the dim torchlight.
"Good evening," she said, not looking up from her book.
"Yes, it is," he said in a quiet voice. "Fallon, can I speak to you for a minute?"
She grimaced, looking down at her book in a frustrated manner. She slammed it closed and turned her face up to face him.
"What's the matter?" Warrington was a bit worried at the look he was getting.
"Oh, nothing that concerns you," she shrugged. "According to that-," she patted the book, "-I should be able to think of thirty ways to kill you. I can only think of twenty-eight."
"That's, er, nice to know."
"You were saying?"
"Yes, well…I know you probably think this is a stupid holiday and all. But I thought that since…I don't know exactly what I thought. But happy Valentines day Fallon," from behind his back, he pulled a shiny black box and placed it in front of her on the leather couch. The light played on the glistening finish as well as the shining silver fastens that held it closed. A few second passed and he wondered why she hadn't opened it yet. He looked up at her and realized that her eyes had not moved from his face.
Eventually she did unfasten the clasps and her eyes lingered on the glittering jewels she found there. They were not jewels by any other female's standards, but they held a flawless beauty Warrington knew she admired. When she finally tore her eyes away and locked them on his once more.
"I never would have thought," she began. "I never would have thought that you would have found such a brilliant gift. It's almost the most perfect gift you could have given me."
"Almost perfect," he sighed in a churlish way. "Of course."
"Well, there could only be one thing I wanted more than butterfly knives." Her dark eyes twinkled and a smirk played on the corner of her lips.
"Being?"
"I can't really tell you. I think I'd better show you," she reached a delicate hand under his chin, giving him chills. Before he knew what was happening, they were entwined upon the black couch, shedding garments somehow.
"Not here," Warrington gasped, pulling away slightly. "Anyone can just walk in on us."
"Oh don't worry, nobody will," Fallon's eyes glinted as she sat up slightly; she obviously knew something he didn't. "I warned everyone to steer clear of the common room tonight. And just as an added bonus, I cursed the doorways."
"Well then, then I guess there's no harm being done."
Just then, a shriek rang out from the doorway to the girls dormitories. It was a very shrill and piercing shriek, one that they had both heard before.
"Oops, I must have forgotten to tell Pansy about the circumstances," Fallon mock-gasped.
"Oh, how terribly forgetful of you," Warrington grinned and pulled her back down. Both could care less.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Happy belated Valentines Day :)