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And special thanks to my first two reviewers, DZAuthor AKA DZMOM and ShadowQuill 426! Hope this is to your liking.
Sin was a slippery slope.
Alicia liked to imagine that she was a decent sort of girl, but she'd had a taste of sin during the summer before sixth year back home, and it'd been downhill ever since.
Home.
Home was... interesting.
Home was a shitty apartment on top of her father's shitty little bar in a shitty neighbourhood in a shitty part of town.
The girls she'd grown up with had gone on to become what one referred to as chavs. They'd been offended when she'd announced her acceptance to a prestigious private boarding school under scholarship back when they'd all began to paint their nails and steal lipgloss from the drugstore for the first time, but every summer they greeted her with the same hugs and kisses, the same sarcastic badgering, calling her Doc or Professor, and as they got older, the same shots of cheap vodka swished back with the same lukewarm lemonade.
Two summers ago, Alicia had learned that the last of her home friends had lost their virginity, and the girls had turned their attention upon her as a pet project for the summer. Resistance had been futile. Alicia spent two drunken months hopping fences, hopping pools, meeting boys and finally, lost her self-respect in a sad episode on a friend of a friend of a friend's father's couch at five in the morning on a Sunday.
Sadly, learning life lessons the first time around had never been Alicia's forte, and soon she found herself experimenting in the art of the quick shag in drunken sessions, fumbling in the dark, all despite the embarassing shame-filled walks home they inevitably ended in each time.
Five boys later, Alicia hopped on the Hogwarts Express in sixth year, vowing that she would remain celibate until graduation, at least at school; one did not shit where one ate.
In general, her plan of attack had been a success, though somehow word had gone around that Alicia was most likely a slag (undoubtedly, someone had overheard whatever she'd told Katie and Angelina on the train, much to her dismay), and for two weeks, she fended off propositions from the male population until it was made very clear that Alicia did not sleep around. Much. And certainly not at Hogwarts. It was then decided that Alicia batted for the other team, and that was the end of that.
Until now.
Alicia's knees were sore, and her hands were wrinkly from the constant exposure to soapy water over the course of the last four hours, and she could still feel the burn of Cassius Warrington's eyes on the back of her head. He'd stared at her all night, glancing furtively at her whenever he thought she wasn't paying attention, but each time he'd looked at her she'd felt his stare like a hot iron on her skin. She'd done her fair share of looking too. It'd been awkward whenever they'd caught each other at it. At least for her. She had a maddening habit of flushing any time she felt embarrassed, a full flush that went from her chest all the way up to the tips of her ears. He had a maddening habit of looking bored, grunting, or yelling at her. The ten minutes they'd spent talking between the Hufflepuff and Slytherin locker rooms felt more like a hallucination.
And now here she was, crawling into bed while the rest of her dorm mates snored, thinking dirty thoughts about Him.
It was strange, how he'd never really registered as a boy in her mind prior to now. Warrington had always been just that - Warrington. A thing. The Enemy, a force to be beat. She'd never thought about him as... well, human. He'd only existed for her on the pitch as that ghastly creature with the velcro hands and the strong kick and broad shoulders that could send her spiralling towards the grass with a well-directed hit. Off the pitch, he was a Slytherin. Again, the Enemy, one particle in a mass of others that made up Evil.
Today - tonight - she saw.
She'd noticed little things first, like how he'd cut his hair. It occurred to her that the dark shaggy mop she'd been used to tugging on during Gryffindor-Slytherin games had been replaced by a closer cut, a man's cut, the kind of cut that old boys in suits wore on their way to their meetings, briefcase in one hand, cigarette in the other.
Then she noticed other things, like how the rest of his body had grown to match his broad shoulders, how his forearms had stared at her oh so invitingly when he'd rolled up his sleeves, or how the little dark curls that escaped from the unbuttoned top of his shirt had glinted under the harsh light of the Gryffindor locker room.
It was when she noticed his smell that she knew for sure that she was in trouble.
He'd come a little too close for comfort when they were washing their hands after everything was done. Standing next to him in silence, she couldn't help but hear his breath come out in harsh little pants like he was angry, and she certainly couldn't help but breathe in his smell. It was an earthy, spicy scent, a mix of his sweat and some sort of hormone-arousing cologne that reminded her of fresh pine trees and worn out leather. She'd scurried away from him in horror, and he'd looked at her funny.
And now... well, now it was all she could think of, really.
It was a curse.
It had to be a curse.
She fell asleep after a long while spent staring at her bed curtains, too afraid to open the Book that had started it all - she had a good idea whose face she would have ended up imagining, had she dared.
Cassius, to be fair, however, was not much better off than Alicia, and if anybody had been cursed in his opinion, it was he.
The vow he'd made to himself earlier in the day had been broken, and he lay silently, breathing roughly after his sad little display of self-indulgence. No amount of scourgifying now would leave him clean of the taint that was Alicia Spinnet - it was too late. While he could banish the physical evidence of his torment, he could hardly obliviate himself of the memory of her.
The worst part was that it had all happened in a few short hours, really. Less than twenty four hours, pitted against seven years. The girl had been nothing more than a pain in the ass on the Quidditch pitch since their first match, and before he'd joined the team (coerced into it, actually), he'd hardly even noticed her existence.
And now...
He shut his eyes in a sorry attempt to sleep. He'd spent an entire torturous hour in the Slytherin locker room, trying his best not to watch Spinnet's back arching in and out as she scrubbed first the showers and then the toilets. On all fours. In a skirt.
Even after they'd moved on to Ravenclaw's locker room and then Gryffindor's (teams with girls, which meant a merciful break from her presence while cleaning), he still hadn't managed to forget the view, both from his earlier fantasy and from the real thing. She hadn't been crawling around nude whilst scrubbing the tiles, but she hadn't been far from it either... Not in his mind, anyway.
Spinnet had, in the span of twelve hours, gone from a tick in the back of his mind to a full grown woman, tits, ass and hips and all.
Cassius groaned softly and rolled over onto his stomach. He flipped over his pillow and pressed the cool sheet against his face, trying not to picture Spinnet's face. Or her legs. Or anything related to her for that matter.
The worst was her scent. He was drunk off of it.
She didn't wear perfume, but whatever she washed her hair with was designed to cripple a man, he was sure of it. As he'd followed her scurrying form out the Gryffindor locker room and into the school, she'd taken her long hair out of its bun and run her fingers through it to quickly untangle any knots that had formed. He was assaulted with the smell of raspberries and citrus, and he'd stopped dead in his tracks for a second before pulling himself together. And now he was cursed. Cursed, dammit!
"How was detention?" Katie asked, as Alicia sleepily poured herself a mug of tea.
"Fucking rubbish as usual," Alicia grunted.
"Don't even get me started!" Angelina sneered. "Harry had detention with Umbridge last night - "
"-Umbridge? Huh. Must have been personal - half the people at Filch's had detention from her, but they went to the Forest."
"Yeah, well she's put him in for it all bloody week, which means he's missing the tryouts on Friday!"
Alicia raised an eyebrow.
"All week? What did he do then?"
Angelina rolled her eyes.
"Nothing. She's just a bloody cow is what."
Alicia nodded. "Yeah, actually - you know who I saw last night? Evangeline Frank! Umbridge gave her detention."
"Huh. Warrington looks pretty pissed at you, Alicia," Katie said suddenly, nodding towards the Slytherin table.
Alicia froze.
"What did you do to him? Please don't tell me you did anything stupid! I can spare Harry but if you get detention too, there's no way we'll find a proper keeper!"
"I didn't do anything," Alicia replied truthfully, glancing furtively at Warrington out of the corner of her eye. He was glaring at her.
"Yeah, well, make sure you keep it that way. You too, Katie - in fact, oi! All of you, no crazy shit this week, you hear me? I need you all at the tryouts this week, and I swear, if any of you get detention -
Angelina's tirade was cut off by a first year suddenly convulsing violently before spraying his entire breakfast over the table.
"Urghhhh..."
"Argh! Scourgify! Scourgify!"
"Fred!"
"George!"
"I didn't do anything!"
"Can you believe this shit?" Angelina snapped, glaring at Fred and George who were loudly proclaiming their innocence.
Alicia groaned and slid out of her seat along with half the Gryffindors, no longer feeling the urge to eat. She sighed warily as Umbridge stood, but smirked when McGonagall beat her to the Gryffindor table.
Alicia took the time to look over at the Slytherins while everyone else was distracted.
Warrington looked exhausted. And irritated. His normally impassive face was drawn into a tight sneer that reminded her more of Malfoy. He was conferring with Montague and Pucey, both of whom apparently shared his discontent. She sighed in relief. They probably weren't talking about her then.
"Fucking madness, I'm telling you," Montague snarled, glaring at the gleaming pages of The Rogue and Gentleman, jabbing his finger into the faces of smirking models in the dress robes section of the catalogue with a dozen images circled in red by his mother's indulgent hand.
Cassius nodded in agreement. His own mother had sent him the same catalogue, circled images included, with a tersely worded letter demanding his decision on robes by nightfall. It was all a conspiracy. The Lady Montagues and Warringtons of society had obviously gotten together to discuss Yule, and had decided to start cracking heads at once. Cassius had seen his mother all of six times over the course of the summer, and she had more to say in her one letter than she had in any of their short encounters.
"They're really coming down on us this year," Pucey noted sullenly, shoving a forkful of bacon into his mouth.
That they were. And Cassius had a few running theories as to why. Being in seventh year definitely played a huge role in this year's Yule, because it was the last chance any of them had to make impressions before graduation. And seventh year meant Debutantes. The rumours of the Dark Lord's return also most likely played a role. This was not only a time to make impressions for the work force - it was a time to make impressions for... the more political reasons at stake.
Unconsciously, Cassius remembered his little discussion with Spinnet the previous night, how uncomfortable she'd been discussing her blood status with him. He scowled.
Half-blood.
His father would have his head, if he had any idea. Half-bloods were tolerated at best, depending on their money and family connections. The Warringtons had never been active participants in the blood feuds, but they'd certainly been vocal in regards to their stance over the years. Cassius knew his father may not have had the Mark, but half of the family acquaintances certainly did and more often than not, politics had a lot to do with business.
"Who are you going to pick?" asked Montague.
"For what? Yule? I don't give a shit. Mother will make some suggestions when the time comes, and I'll pick one, same as every year," Cassius replied, shrugging. Every Yule gathering he'd attended since his fourth year had been the same - his mother sent him a letter in mid-October with a not-so-subtle list of potential partners, he picked the least talkative of the lot, and continued on with his life.
Montague looked at him like he was daft.
"Don't be stupid, you know it's different this year."
They exchanged wary glances. Marriage. It was as much a business ploy as it was political, and it had haunted the boys since fourth year. They'd always known it was coming, of course, but suddenly, what with Pucey's letter threatening an engagement with one of the... lovely Flint ladies, and graduation around the corner, it wasn't some point off in the distant horizon that was the Future. It was Now. Or at the very least, Soon.
So yes. It would be different this year. It would be serious this year. Engagements weren't unheard of at this point in a young man's life. Rare, but not unheard of, and they all knew that the murmers of the Dark Lord's return were not simply rumours. They'd all witnessed the unusual flurry of activity over the summer.
"Well what about you?" Cassius countered, not wanting to think any deeper on the matter. Not now, anyhow. Not with Spinnet gawking at him along with her stupid friends, not with Montague's prying questions and Pucey's insipid comments.
Montague shrugged.
"I asked you first. What about that Beauxbatons bint you were shagging last year?"
"Which one?"
Montague and Pucey sniggered.
"Good point. Well. Any of them."
"Forget it, they're French. Dad hates the French."
"Your mum's French," Pucey pointed out.
"Exactly."
The boys laughed again.
"But seriously -
" - Seriously. I don't know. Anyway, shouldn't you be asking Pucey? He's the one practically engaged to Flint's sister, since we all know he won't be able to come up with anybody else in time."
"Fuck off," Pucey snapped. "And anyhow, I've been putting a list together of all my potentials. Forget the girls in our house, they're all slags... couple of fit ones in Ravenclaw from proper families, but I've been thinking about going abroad."
"Abroad? What are you going on about?"
"Well the way I figure, a lot of the purebloods in England are blood-traitors, and there's no way mum and dad will ever let me go that way. Half-bloods are out of the question, not with - well, You Know Who... But I'm thinking I don't really want to shackle up with a cousin or anything either, and fuck Flint's sister, I'm not going to let that happen. But If I go abroad... well, the French aren't so bad. And those Spanish birds -
Montague smirked.
"And if all else fails?"
Pucey looked around nervously. Then, he whispered, "I'll take the Mark."
Cassius stared at his friend. The boy was an idiot. Take the Mark to avoid marriage? It was a smart plan - taking the Mark would certainly put any marriage plans on hold until things were sorted out in the world - but again, Pucey was an idiot. He wouldn't survive the branding, let alone the gruesome tasks that would surely follow. He had a weak stomach to begin with, and then there was the low tolerance for pain...
Montague looked just as stricken as Cassius felt.
"Don't be stupid, mate - that's -
Pucey's eyes flashed angrily.
"You think I'm stupid, do you? You realize what's going on... we're all going to have to pick sides sooner or later. If I have to pick sooner rather than later to avoid having to fuck that foul cow, then sooner it is. Anyway, I'd be careful if I were you... not too safe going around making comments like you're not sure which side you're going to pick..."
Pucey's eyes flickered over towards Malfoy, whom they all knew would be elbows deep in shit by the time the ball got to rolling.
He was right, of course. It was dangerous to talk so openly.
"Anyway," Pucey said, in a lighter voice, though the slight waver betrayed his anxiety, "I won't be going there, now will I? I've got cousins in Belgium, and all I have to do is write. I'll have a bint by Yule just begging me to put a ring on it - no, two!"
Cassius hoped for Pucey's sake that his wishes would come true. His life probably would depend on it.
"So how was detention, anyhow?" Angelina asked, having failed to finish the conversation earlier, back in the Great Hall.
Alicia shrugged as they stepped outside to admire the sun before class. They'd decided to ditch breakfast early after the puking incident - there was only so much a girl could take.
"Yeah, Warrington looked pretty pissed," Katie noted, repeating her earlier observation.
"Does he ever smile?" Angelina pointed out.
Alicia refrained from pointing out that indeed, he did.
"Well, we didn't kill each other," she said instead, pointing out the obvious. "I got to see all the other locker rooms, though."
"Really? What are they like?" Katie asked excitedly.
Angelina rolled her eyes. "Probably like ours. In different colours," she said monotonously.
Alicia shook her head, and Katie shot Angelina a triumphant glance.
"Slytherins have marble."
"WHAT?" Katie screeched.
"He let you see it?" Angelina gasped.
"Not like he had much choice... Filch pretty much threatened us with repeat detention if we didn't clean them all."
"Marble? Are you serious? That's..."
"Disgusting? Let me guess, Malfoy," Angeline deadpanned.
Alicia shrugged.
"Wouldn't tell me. You know Slytherins and their secrets. It was really nice though. Like... really nice. Wood panelling on the walls, marble floor, marble benches - the real deal. But yeah, my bet's on Malfoy... he's a shit seeker, and those 2001s went out as fast as the Firebolt's were in."
Angelina shook her head in disgust.
"Bastards... and did I tell you? Fucking Warrington beat the twins to the sign-up sheets yesterday, so you can thank your new friend for that."
Alicia groaned. How had she missed that?
"So what does that mean?"
"It means morning practice," said Katie grimly. "Davies beat the twins to the evening slot, and you know the twins... absolutely refused to miss lunch three times a week."
"But there's the kitchens!" Alicia cried.
"You're telling me," said Angelina darkly. "But fine. It's fine. It just means more privacy. I fucking hate when everyone comes to gawk during practice anyway."
Alicia was not fine with it, but she refrained from voicing her opinion. Obviously nothing could be done about it. They would just have to make do.
The girls exchanged gossip as they made their way back into the castle towards their respective classes. Katie waved goodbye to them as she joined up with her fellow sixth years in the Great Hall.
"So how was your summer for real?" Angelina asked once Katie was out of earshot. Alicia snickered. Angelina had a mother-hen thing going on with Katie, and refused to discuss anything remotely sexual in front of the younger girl.
"Okay," Alicia muttered quietly, remembering how quickly rumours had spread the previous year about her private life. "I dunno... nothing special. Hooked up with a couple neighbourhood boys, but that was about it. Same old. One of my friends had a kid, though."
Angelina raised one perfectly arched eyebrow. Alicia had never invited any of them to her place, but judging by the stories, she had a pretty decent idea of the sort of life Alicia had led, and might have led, without Hogwarts.
"Pregnant, eh? Damn... thank god we're witches."
Alicia nodded. "Cute kid, though. The dad's a real prick... wasn't all that surprised though, to be honest with you."
Angelina laughed. Alicia's stories from home were always entertaining, even the awful ones. Purebloods simply didn't go around having kids out of wedlock, even the trashy ones. It just wasn't done. And any witch worth her name knew a half dozen contraception charms by fifteen, if not a couple of potions. And... well, if somehow all preventative methods had failed, then there was always a trip to St. Mungo's... Not that Angelina dared mention any of this. It was a bit of a sore spot for Alicia...
"How was your summer, then?" Alicia asked, winking slyly at her friend.
"Bugger off," Angelina laughed. "I can see you already know all about it and the answer is blah. You know my parents, it's always this and that, etiquette, darling! Finger in the air! I said curls, not waves, sweetheart! Quidditch captain? Are you mad! No, dear, you may not go to the Weasley's home unescorted!"
Alicia laughed, trying to picture Angelina leaving the house in a nice, boring knee-length dress, only to run to the nearest washroom to change into a pair of shorts and a tank top to run about muggle London.
"But... well, yeah. Things have been... hectic. Mum's going nuts about the whole debutante thing, and Dad's up to his neck in Ministry shit."
Alicia winced at the word debutante. She and Angelina were going to have their "coming out" over Yule, at a posh dinner and dance for all the established families in wizarding society in Engand and on the continent. It was the one larger social event of the year in the wizarding world where invitees were not chosen by blood but by money, though the purer the blood generally meant the bigger the bank account. Alicia's grandmother had it explained it all to her once... for debutantes it meant two weeks of scurrying back and forth between parties and dinners and dances. Mercifully, only the official coming out reception was where they would have to mingle with the Slytherin sort... all the other events were strictly by personal invitation only, meaning family and and friends and desirable acquaintances and no Death Eater wannabes. At least, not at the parties she'd be invited to...
"You are coming, aren't you?" asked Angelina suddenly. "Katie's going to be there... not to come out obviously, but I mean... shit, I can't do it on my own! I'll puke! And Fred won't be there cause mother would flip..."
Alicia rolled her eyes.
"Like I'm any more acceptable. I'm a bastard, remember? And I'm poor."
Alicia was pleased with herself - she'd only let a hint of bitterness escape with that comment.
Angelina punched her in the arm.
"Don't say that!"
"Well it's true." And it was. Alicia's mother was, as far as wizarding society was concerned, a disgrace. Even as far as blood-traitors went, she was a disgrace. Hell, even in the muggle world she was a disgrace.
Aurora DeWitt was the only daughter of the esteemed, very pure, DeWitt family, and at the age of seventeen, she'd fallen in love with a muggle and had promptly hightailed out of the wizarding world, not to be seen or heard of for three years. It wasn't until after the downfall of the Dark Lord that Tristan and Sophie Dewitt had dared venture out in search of their runaway 'blood-traitor' daughter. They were properly horrified to discover her living in a cramped two bedroom apartment on top of a seedy bar owned by one Alan 'Pink' Spinnet, twenty-four. When they'd burst into the apartment unannounced, both Tristan and Sophie had nearly died of shock - there stood their twenty-year-old only daughter in nothing but her knickers and a large t-shirt with the words Sex Pistols printed on it (Sex! It said sex!), baby Alicia in one hand, cigarette in the other, and no ring on either. The survival of the DeWitts had come to this - one drooling, giggling bastard baby in the arms of her runaway teen mother.
Alicia's grandparents were almost not quite shocked when, later on in the evening, they were properly introduced to the man who had stolen their daughter. The man was, as far as either Tristan or Sophie could tell, a hoodlum. He had tattoos and an ear piercing and spoke like he was born in the gutters. Of course, Aurora would not hear a word against him, and promptly invited her parents to leave when they demanded she hand baby Alicia over to their care.
And so over the years, arrangements were made, in which Alicia would spend the first two weeks of the summer holidays with her grandparents at their seaside villa, learning how to be a proper lady, only to have all her lessons erased as soon as she returned to London much to their dismay. This summer had been no different. As usual, her mother had picked her up at King's Cross, dropped her off at the DeWitt's villa, and she'd spent two dull weeks learning how to dance and how to eat a sandwich without dropping crumbs. Only this time, the lessons had been... serious, for lack of a better word. All for the sake of one terrible night. She couldn't remember a time when she'd been more grateful to return home to London, after those two weeks of utter hell.
"I'll be there," Alicia muttered grimly. "Not that I'll be happy about it. Gran said it'll probably be a scandal though, once they realize who I am."
Angelina scoffed.
"Everything's a scandal with those people."
"Yeah, well... gran hasn't been exactly public about my existence if know what I mean."
Angelina gave her a sad smile and Alicia fake-puked in disgust.
"Don't. This isn't some stupid pity party."
"Please, like I'd ever pity your ass, miss I-get-to-party-in-London-every-sodding-summer-Spinnet!"
Alicia smiled. Yes. There was that.
The library was, as always, dead silent. Cassius breathed deeply as he walked swiftly down the aisles. Books were probably his favourite smell in the world, not that you'd catch him ever admitting that out loud.
The place was more or less deserted, as it was still the beginning of the year, and he was all the more glad of it. As embarrassing as it was to admit, he actually liked Hogwarts' library. It was an extensive maze of books on every subject imaginable, and every time he came back he discovered some quiet new corner or aisle that he could have sworn hadn't been there the last time. Which was, now that he thought about it, probably the case. Hogwarts was a magical castle, after all.
Another reason Cassius enjoyed the library was the absolute silence. He'd always been a quiet sort, and had been rather solitary as a child, preferring to entertain himself with books and hiding in the gardens than to play with the other children his parents' friends always seemed to bring along. Montague had always been the exception, the two having been born within days of each other at St. Mungo's, and their mothers being best friends since their own Hogwarts days. Pucey, too, was an exception, though they hadn't really gotten on until Hogwarts, when Montague had insisted that Cassius expand his horizons just a bit lest he be ostracized for the next seven years. And so they'd formed a nice little trio, and Cassius admittedly grew rather fond of Pucey's screwball antics. He was almost like a younger brother of sorts. But sometimes - okay, often - he needed his solitary peace, and the library was the only place he could be guaranteed to find it.
Except now. Because obviously - obviously!- the Fates were out to get him. Whatever he'd done to anger the gods in his seventeen years of existence were now coming to haunt him, all in the form of Alicia bloody Spinnet.
He wanted to shake her, only he knew that doing so would lead to him being locked up in St. Mungo's somewhere, probably with Gilderoy Lockhart as his roommate. All she was doing was reading, after all, and wasn't it what he'd come here to do?
He screamed inwardly in frustration. Spinnet hadn't even noticed him. She sat quietly, absorbed in whatever book she was reading -
He froze. Was it That Book? She was certainly sucking on her sugar quill avidly enough.
Fuck. It just wasn't possible. How could he have possibly angered the Fates to the point of -
Enough. He was going mad. She wasn't doing anything. He was blowing everything out of proportion. There, she was writing something down now. Homework. She was obviously doing homework, because that's what normal students did in a library.
Suddenly, she looked up.
Cassius could have cursed himself. He clutched his wand and gave her a tight sneer. She raised an eyebrow.
"Do you want something?" she whispered quickly, her eyes glancing around in case Pince happened to be lurking about.
Cassius could think of a dozen different things he wanted from her. He told her so. She flushed. So predictable.
"Go away, Warrington, I've already got enough bullocks to deal with right now without you adding to it. What are you doing here, anyway? I thought you lot always paid other people to do your work for you."
Cassius sneered. Good. This was good. Animosity, he could deal with; Spinnet sitting innocently, sucking on a sugar quill quite oblivious to his presence, he could not.
He slid down into the seat opposite of hers, and she groaned softly.
"Christ, what do you want?"
That question again. Did she ever learn? He smirked.
"I dunno. Figured I'd pay you to do my work for me," he said in a snarky voice.
She rolled her eyes. "Fine, I deserved that one. Now will you please leave? I really don't feel like having Pince kick me out right now for having to hex you."
"Why would you hex me? I'm just here to do my work, same as you," he replied innocently. To prove his point, he pulled out Hogwarts: A History out of his bag.
Spinnet's face couldn't have been any more red.
"Oh, don't worry Spinnet," he said casually, "It really is Hogwarts: A History. I don't know what you're thinking of, but it must be rather naughty, since you seem so embarrassed. Don't you like history?"
Spinnet's sugar quill shattered in her hand, and she swore under her breath.
"Reparo. Fuck off, Warrington. Please."
God, he liked it when she begged. How fucking perverse. It was like she knew she was at his mercy - one wrong slip, and in a second, the entire school could know what sort of reading Spinnet liked to do in her spare time. It was irony, really; she didn't have a clue that this was one little secret that he would actually keep to himself. If anything, it was self-subjugation on her part. No guilt.
Cassius pulled out a scroll of parchment, ink and a quill. Well, now that he was here, why not get some homework done and bother the hell out of Spinnet while he was at it? He knew how she worked. Bloody Gryffindors, all the same. She wouldn't dare leave, not now. It'd be like directly admitting her fear of him.
Was she afraid of him? She certainly seemed skittish enough. Fuck. And there she was at it, sucking on that goddamn quill, twirling a strand of hair around her finger as she tried to get back into her reading, ignoring his presence.
She wanted to play, did she? Fine. Two could play at that game.
Why wouldn't he bloody leave already?
Alicia had come to the library right after dinner in order to get started on McGonagall's first assignment of the year. It wasn't due for another three weeks, but Alicia had learned from experience that one essay turned into six, and floundering in the library with two hundred other cramming students three days before everything was due was not the way to get things done properly.
Apparently Warrington had the same idea. She'd been shocked when she'd looked up to stretch her back, only to see him standing there. She'd been even more shocked when he'd sat down across from her and had actually begun studying, albeit only after making fun of her for the first five minutes.
And now, he wouldn't leave. He sat there like he'd gotten there first.
This was her table, dammit! She'd been so pleased when she'd found it back in her fourth year, the nice antique table with all its secret little drawers that never opened, and the big worn leather chairs that seemed to mould to her body as soon as she sat down.
And the worst part was, he really was working. He hadn't looked up at her or had said anything rude in the past hour, and as she peeked over at his work, he'd actually written a good two feet of notes.
Alicia looked down at her own meagre work.
A foot, at the most. A lot of marginalia. A lot of fuck you's scrawled in random places.
"Giving up so soon?" he said, suddenly, eyes still glued to his books.
Alicia huffed.
"Just taking a break. I've been here longer than you, in case you forgot. And anyway, shouldn't you be off studying somewhere else? What would Montague say? Consorting with the enemy!"
Warrington looked up.
"Don't be stupid. I'd say I was here first."
"That's ridiculous," she spluttered. "I would never voluntarily sit next to you!"
Warrington looked at her, offended.
"Why not? I'm a catch," he said seriously.
Alicia gawked at him.
"You're not bloody serious -
He shrugged. "You're a half-blood. I would never go after you, and even if I did, nobody would believe me. Doesn't stop you girls from going after me, though. I've seen the way you lot look at me. Don't worry Spinnet, even if anyone did see us, they'd just write you off as another bird who wants to hop on my -
"Don't even finish that sentence," Alicia spluttered indignantly. "I can't believe I'm even hearing this -
Warrington shrugged. "Don't take it personally. That's just the way it is."
Don't take it personally? This had to be a joke. Alicia couldn't even come up with a response to his little narcissistic trip. But the worst part was, he was right about the whole thing. He was definitely one of the finer male specimens in school, despite his haughty better-than-thou, oh you're a half-blood snootiness, it was true - he was a catch. If you were pureblood, anyhow. While he would never look twice at some halfblood, as he'd so eloquently put it, that didn't stop any of the girls from looking. And now, Alicia was just as guilty.
It was absolute masochism.
But she couldn't help it. Even after hearing his disgusting ego-trip, she couldn't help but half fall apart at his smell. Even his voice, despite the horrendous things that came out of that sexy mouth -
Alicia forced her mind to shut down.
She shut her book and packed away her ink pot and quill.
"Alright, Warrington," she said warily, "I give up. You beat me, you bloody prick. See you in Arithmancy."
She stood up and picked up her bag and stuffed her robes into it. Warrington ignored her. Douche.
Well what the hell was she expecting? A bloody kiss good bye? This was too much. She shouldn't have even spoken to him as civilly as she did. Nor should he ever have sat down across from her in the first place. Too much. It was all too damned much. Angelina would have strung her up from her toes and dropped her into the Great Lake.
Alicia left the library and decided to wander the halls for a bit. She didn't want to go back to the common room because studying there was virtually impossible. She could have simply sat somewhere else in the library, but it just wouldn't do. She could feel his stupid presence in there.
She nearly screamed in surprise when, as she started down the corridor, a hand landed on her shoulder, seemingly out of nowhere.
"What the -
Alicia froze.
It was Him. She could smell him.
She turned around wordlessly.
"Do you want to shag?"
He'd decided it as he watched her leave, unhappily clutching her book bag. His eyes had followed every sway of her hips as she made her silent retreat, the pleats of her skirt swishing back and forth with every step. Indecent. Absolutely indecent. Hemmed, obviously - he couldn't imagine thigh-high skirt being written down on the girls' annual school list, signed in McGonagall's elegant hand.
Fuck. And now she was gone.
He quickly packed away his belongings and followed her. Stupid girl, she looked at everything she passed, reminding him of an overstimulated child that saw everything but noticed nothing. She didn't even realize he was following her until he'd physically touched her. She'd jerked back as though he'd burned her, twirling around, her long hair hitting him in the face.
"What the -
He interrupted her, and she stared up at him suspiciously, though he noticed that telltale flush creeping up her neck ever so slowly.
"Do you want to shag?"
He hadn't meant to say it, of course. Not like that, anyway. In fact, up until the words had come out, he hadn't been sure if he was going to say anything at all. But apparently his prick was a little bit ahead of the game because it certainly wasn't his brain...
She stared at him, gaping like a fish, but he took it as a good sign that she hadn't hexed him yet.
"I - are - is this a joke?" she spluttered, still staring at him like he'd sprouted an extra head.
Cassius shrugged. He hadn't really thought any of this out. No, he certainly had not.
He walked away, then, knowing that she would follow him. This was not the sort of thing he wanted to discuss in front of the school library.
And as usual, he was right. He hadn't walked five feet, when he heard the clicking of her heels as she speed-walked behind him. A couple of fifth year Slytherins passed by, and nodded at him, but stared suspiciously at Spinnet. Cassius looked back, pretending as though he hadn't noticed her presence.
"Stalking me, Spinnet?" he sneered.
Spinnet froze, glancing over at the fifth years, who were sniggering as they passed by.
"Fuck off, Warrington, contrary to what you may think, the hallways are public domain."
The fifth years disappeared into the library, and Cassius continued to walk, satisfied that suspicion had been averted.
When they ended up on an abandoned corridor on the fourth floor, Cassius stopped, and turned to look back at Spinnet, who had most definitely followed him.
She stood there warily, one hand on her hip, the other still holding the strap of her book bag.
"Okay, the only reason I followed you here is because I'm curious," she said a little too quickly.
Cassius smirked. "Simple enough question, Spinnet. You. Me. Lets do the nasty. Yes?"
Spinnet's blush would have put a tomato to shame.
"You can't just say that! You prick, what the fuck was that ego trip in the library all about then -
"Oh, I didn't say anything about dating you. Obviously anything we do would be... confidential -
She scoffed. "Right, confidential, until you decide you've had enough of me, and blab to your stupid friends -
"Please. What do you take me for? If anything, I have more to lose here than you do. You're a half-blood, remember? And last I checked, it's you girls who are always off running your mouths to each other about every bloody detail of your lives."
"Right, how could I forget. You're an ass. This is ridiculous. I can't believe I actually followed you here - I should just tell everyone, that'd be a bloody riot and a half."
Cassius rolled his eyes. "Stop. No drama. Let's just do it once, and if it goes well, we can do it again. If one of us gets tired of it, we stop. End of story. You're obviously sexually frustrated -
"Excuse me!"
" - or you wouldn't be reading that - that book of yours -
"That's not any of your business!"
Cassius shrugged. "I'm just offering you a little... business deal. Check that temper of yours for one second and hear me out. I want to shag you. You obviously want to shag me, otherwise you wouldn't be here right now. Nobody has to know anything, if that's what you're all worked up about it. Hell, I'll even cast a binding charm -
"How do you even know how to cast a binding charm? Seems like your pretty well versed at this," she said suspiciously.
"My father is the head of a law firm," he replied dryly. "And I've had to be. Can't have some bitch come whining about being knocked up after lying about taking a contreceptive potion or something."
"Right, because girls are just dying to have your baby," she said sarcastically.
"I'm rich. I come from a good family. It happens, Spinnet."
"Uh huh. You're not helping your case here - I don't even like you! You don't even like me!"
"I don't have to like you, Spinnet. We're not here to make friends."
They stared at each other in silence.
"I - I want to think about it."
He smirked. "As an incentive... we can even try some of your favourite scenes -
Spinnet choked in embarrassment.
"God, would you just forget the bloody book already!"
"Why? You want to read about it but you don't want to try it? Wait..."
Cassius looked at her suspiciously. "You're... you're not a virgin, are you?"
Spinnet scowled.
"That's not any -
"If I'm going to shag you, I think it's my business to know whether or not you're a virgin -
"I'm not a bloody virgin!" she all but shrieked.
Cassius smirked. "How rather enthusiastic of you."
"Fuck you. This is stupid. See? This could never work - all I want to do is curse your bloody stupid face right now!"
"So why don't you? Last I checked, you've never been one to shy away from duels."
Spinnet crossed her arms and looked at him sullenly. Cassius waited for her to say something, but she simply stared at him.
"Kiss me."
Cassius looked at her in surprise. Had he heard that correctly?
Spinnet stared at him petulantly, arms still crossed, looking like an irritated child. He raised an eyebrow.
"Well? What are you waiting for? If I don't like kissing you, then this is obviously not going to work."
"Fair enough."
They looked at each other silently. Well this wasn't awkward at all. Cassius had never been in a situation like this before. While he still wanted her, there was something very... off. The whole situation was off. Artificial. That was it - everything felt artificial.
Still... she wanted a kiss, did she? Fine. Cassius wasn't going to say no to that. Circe, this was awkward.
"Come here," he muttered sourly.
"Merlin, how romantic," she said sarcastically.
"Shut it, Spinnet - I'm not your sodding boyfriend."
Spinnet rolled her eyes.
"Well if that doesn't turn me on, I don't know what -
Cassius grabbed her by the arms and held her up against the wall, pinning her hands up over her head. She let out a harsh breath and stared up at him.
"You have quite the mouth on you, Spinnet," he murmured, leaning in so closely that his lips just barely brushed the shell of her ear. "I think you could be using it for other things."
She shuddered beneath him, and he felt a surge of heat in his veins. God, she smelled good. Raspberries, that damned shampoo of hers. He breathed deeply and dropped a kiss on the side of her neck. She let out a whimper and squirmed. Cassius held her arms tighter and stepped towards her to fill the gap between them. He brushed his lips across her collarbone, breathing harshly, and he pressed a leg between hers so that she was trapped against the wall. She let out a proper little moan and writhed against his leg. He dropped her arms and grabbed her by the chin. She stared at him through half-lidded eyes, her hands holding his arms for support. He kissed her.
Alicia had apparently died and gone to hell, and Warrington was the torturer. He kissed her deeply, one hand clutching her hair, the other digging into her side. She kissed him back just as fiercely, running her hands through his hair, gasping as he tore away from her lips and moved on to her collarbones then up her neck.
"You like it rough?" he groaned into her ear, almost sounding surprised by her reaction to his kiss.
Alicia flushed.
"You don't have to be embarrassed. If that's what you like, I think we'll both be happy -
She ground herself against his thigh when his wandering fingers suddenly found their way to her bra.
"Fuck," he hissed. "Keep that up and I'll fuck you against the wall, Spinnet."
"Alicia," she gasped, as he nipped at her neck.
"Alicia," he groaned when she gently ran her hands down under his shirt, across his chest.
"This is bad," she whispered, kissing his chest where the top buttons of his shirt were undone as always. "This is really bad."
Suddenly, he stepped away from her, breathing quickly, and ran his hands through his dishevelled hair.
Alicia looked at him in surprise.
"Thought you were going to fuck me against the wall," she teased softly.
He looked pained, but shook his head.
"Forget it Ali - Spinnet. Sleep on it. If you're still game tomorrow..."
"We can work something out," she finished, suddenly feeling embarrassed.
"Lisso," he muttered, flicking his wand towards her.
Alicia raised an eyebrow.
"Glamour charm? You read Witch Weekly?"
Warrington rolled his eyes.
"See you tomorrow, Spinnet."
He straightened out his tie and smoothed down his hair before walking down the corridor, leaving Alicia to stare at his retreating back.
"Hey! What's your name?"