She lowered herself in her seat - maybe no one would
notice her if she were shorter - while poking at what was left
of the morsels on her plate. Her eyes swept over the first years
at her table - then to the other three tables. There were more this
year, she resolved - always more boys - always. Peony sighed - that
was the treme thing she needed, more people casting insults on her.
A nudge from Peony's right side made her lift her head
and look extremely disconcerted. She turned her head - facing
her friend and only other Fifth year Hufflepuff - Karen Thoree.
"Something is deffinately lingering in the Twilight Zone,"
Peony tilted her head at her description. Karen's eyes
narrowed into slits as they always did when there was something
engaging going on.
"Don't look - but a certain Quidditch captain has been staring
at you for quite a while,"
Peony, almost imediately, looked over at the Slytherin
table. It was her first thought - vengeance - wasn't that what
Flint was all about? But, when she saw the capacious figure -
he was ingrossed with what his friends had to say. Then, it
dawned on her - Oliver. Her eyes darted to his table - he was
there - yes - and he was gazing directly at her. The common
bemused look he wore almost daily presented itself on his features
again.
She glanced down at the table and feigned interest in
the chattering surrounding her. Peony counted the minutes -
ten - she had not glanced up at anyone. He would be involved
with something else - someone else - right? She looked at Karen,
she was drooling over one of the Weasley twins. Peony raised her
head - he was chatting with the taller one - good - his focus was
off of her. He did it, then - he looked at her again -
a half-grin - then back to talking.
Peony kept close as she could to Karen and some of the other
Hufflepuffs. A disturbing unease veiled down upon her body - something -
something inevitably wrong was going to occur. She sped up as she noticed
that the others were farther ahead. As if, concluding with her
premonitions - a hand closed on her mouth, with one scabrously
around her waist.
It wasn't as if she didn't try to fight back - she did -
but even biting the calloused palm didn't help. She craned her
head to see the force that held her so - a muffled whimper-scream
tumbled from her throat. Down - down - down the stairs. Peony was
dizzy from being drug downward - most times the slightest movements
made her ill.
Finally, she was thrown back against a picture - a snake
charmer. The portrait mumbled something about a password, with
Flint's growling of 'shove it," it was quieted. Her head swam -
stone - so hard - Flint was blurred - image - devilish grin.
Peony propelled herself forward - only to be shoved back,
is body holding her tightly in place. She shoved against his chest
with her hands - no avail - she was still pinned. His lips once
again found her ear and the breath - the firery breath, she loathed.
"You think fucking with your pet was evil - tear-worthy?"
That was the second time she heard him use the term -
tear-worthy. Her eyes were closed - tight - maybe if she held
them shut long enough - he would disappear. No - no - that was
a thought worthy of a simplton - it was real - he was real.
Flint, slowly, moved his head to rest his forehead to hers.
Eyes - his eyes - umber - perverse - too dangerous.
Peony heard the rustling of his robe as he moved his
knee between her legs. He took his wand from the inner
flowings of his robe and he jabbed it to her ribs - a warning -
a promise. Her wand - Peony's - where was her wand? She gasped
as she felt his other hand roam - reaction - she began to struggle
again. She opened her mouth to scream - wouldn't someone hear -
wouldn't someone care - does anyone care? Flint cut her off -
his offensive mouth on hers.
Suddenly - but Peony saw it in slow motion. It was
Oliver - he had yanked Flint off of her and threw him against
the wall. She sunk to her knees - relishing in the feel of
cold stone - cold - familiar - beautiful. She didn't watch
what Oliver did after, because most of it, it registered as
blocking - tomorrow she would remember nothing - she made a
promise not to remember it - shame.
Finally - she saw light - candles along the wall.
She was being led somewhere - where? Peony looked around -
up some stairs - her common room wasn't up stairs. Not
bothering to gaze at who had a protective arm around her
shoulders, she pushed him off. Instinct - her natural
instinct to fight back - to stay breathing - kicked in.
She started to slap at the person, tears streaming down
her face, blurring her vision - even if she wanted to see
who she was so viciously attacking - she wouldn't be able to.
"Peony! Peony, stop - it's me,"
Oliver was blocking most of her slaps and puches -
but she had caught him off guard with the first swing. He
grabbed one wrist, then the other - trying to be gentle -
clearly she was in some sort of shock. Peony was struggling
as Oliver pulled her to him. Comfort - that was what he
thought she needed - to be held for the moment. He shook
her - too violently - she became nauseous - dizzy.
Peony slid to her knees, once more - he glided
down with her and offered his body as support.
"Oliver..."
She had never heard her voice so soft - so
timid - breaking. Oliver sat on the stairs - half-way
to his house's common room - embracing her. Peony was
vaguely aware of the soothing words that he whispering -
stroking her hair - with his consoling, came more tears.
Though he meant well - it only reminded her of how pathetic
she was - she couldn't even defend herself properly.
notice her if she were shorter - while poking at what was left
of the morsels on her plate. Her eyes swept over the first years
at her table - then to the other three tables. There were more this
year, she resolved - always more boys - always. Peony sighed - that
was the treme thing she needed, more people casting insults on her.
A nudge from Peony's right side made her lift her head
and look extremely disconcerted. She turned her head - facing
her friend and only other Fifth year Hufflepuff - Karen Thoree.
"Something is deffinately lingering in the Twilight Zone,"
Peony tilted her head at her description. Karen's eyes
narrowed into slits as they always did when there was something
engaging going on.
"Don't look - but a certain Quidditch captain has been staring
at you for quite a while,"
Peony, almost imediately, looked over at the Slytherin
table. It was her first thought - vengeance - wasn't that what
Flint was all about? But, when she saw the capacious figure -
he was ingrossed with what his friends had to say. Then, it
dawned on her - Oliver. Her eyes darted to his table - he was
there - yes - and he was gazing directly at her. The common
bemused look he wore almost daily presented itself on his features
again.
She glanced down at the table and feigned interest in
the chattering surrounding her. Peony counted the minutes -
ten - she had not glanced up at anyone. He would be involved
with something else - someone else - right? She looked at Karen,
she was drooling over one of the Weasley twins. Peony raised her
head - he was chatting with the taller one - good - his focus was
off of her. He did it, then - he looked at her again -
a half-grin - then back to talking.
Peony kept close as she could to Karen and some of the other
Hufflepuffs. A disturbing unease veiled down upon her body - something -
something inevitably wrong was going to occur. She sped up as she noticed
that the others were farther ahead. As if, concluding with her
premonitions - a hand closed on her mouth, with one scabrously
around her waist.
It wasn't as if she didn't try to fight back - she did -
but even biting the calloused palm didn't help. She craned her
head to see the force that held her so - a muffled whimper-scream
tumbled from her throat. Down - down - down the stairs. Peony was
dizzy from being drug downward - most times the slightest movements
made her ill.
Finally, she was thrown back against a picture - a snake
charmer. The portrait mumbled something about a password, with
Flint's growling of 'shove it," it was quieted. Her head swam -
stone - so hard - Flint was blurred - image - devilish grin.
Peony propelled herself forward - only to be shoved back,
is body holding her tightly in place. She shoved against his chest
with her hands - no avail - she was still pinned. His lips once
again found her ear and the breath - the firery breath, she loathed.
"You think fucking with your pet was evil - tear-worthy?"
That was the second time she heard him use the term -
tear-worthy. Her eyes were closed - tight - maybe if she held
them shut long enough - he would disappear. No - no - that was
a thought worthy of a simplton - it was real - he was real.
Flint, slowly, moved his head to rest his forehead to hers.
Eyes - his eyes - umber - perverse - too dangerous.
Peony heard the rustling of his robe as he moved his
knee between her legs. He took his wand from the inner
flowings of his robe and he jabbed it to her ribs - a warning -
a promise. Her wand - Peony's - where was her wand? She gasped
as she felt his other hand roam - reaction - she began to struggle
again. She opened her mouth to scream - wouldn't someone hear -
wouldn't someone care - does anyone care? Flint cut her off -
his offensive mouth on hers.
Suddenly - but Peony saw it in slow motion. It was
Oliver - he had yanked Flint off of her and threw him against
the wall. She sunk to her knees - relishing in the feel of
cold stone - cold - familiar - beautiful. She didn't watch
what Oliver did after, because most of it, it registered as
blocking - tomorrow she would remember nothing - she made a
promise not to remember it - shame.
Finally - she saw light - candles along the wall.
She was being led somewhere - where? Peony looked around -
up some stairs - her common room wasn't up stairs. Not
bothering to gaze at who had a protective arm around her
shoulders, she pushed him off. Instinct - her natural
instinct to fight back - to stay breathing - kicked in.
She started to slap at the person, tears streaming down
her face, blurring her vision - even if she wanted to see
who she was so viciously attacking - she wouldn't be able to.
"Peony! Peony, stop - it's me,"
Oliver was blocking most of her slaps and puches -
but she had caught him off guard with the first swing. He
grabbed one wrist, then the other - trying to be gentle -
clearly she was in some sort of shock. Peony was struggling
as Oliver pulled her to him. Comfort - that was what he
thought she needed - to be held for the moment. He shook
her - too violently - she became nauseous - dizzy.
Peony slid to her knees, once more - he glided
down with her and offered his body as support.
"Oliver..."
She had never heard her voice so soft - so
timid - breaking. Oliver sat on the stairs - half-way
to his house's common room - embracing her. Peony was
vaguely aware of the soothing words that he whispering -
stroking her hair - with his consoling, came more tears.
Though he meant well - it only reminded her of how pathetic
she was - she couldn't even defend herself properly.
