Up In The Tower

Alice had not had a very good morning. After being trapped outside the common room for several hours, the Fat Lady merciless in her demand for the password, she had been helpfully rescued by an upperclassmen. She had fallen asleep as soon as she reached her bed, still dressed down to her boots. She'd slept like the dead until her little alarm clock awoke her just after dawn.

Her morning run had been wet, and she'd missed breakfast after dozing off in the shower. She'd had to throw her uniform on and run through the halls, barely making it to Double Transfiguration on time. She'd flushed under the stern look Professor McGonagall shot her as she opened the door, the bell ringing sharply in her ears. The lesson had been long, tedious, and she had nodded off once or twice. Luckily, Professor McGonagall was distracted by two of her housemates passing notes, and she wasn't the reason Gryffindor had lost ten points.

The rest of her morning was similarly awful. She'd had to rush to Potions, using every available minute of her break to vainly study for her test. Her stomach had ached throughout the whole ordeal, and those ruddy solutions threatened to drive her mad. The hour long test had been Alice's personal vision of hell. Eventually, however, her torment had ended and she was freed from the wretched dungeons. She'd engaged with idle gossip with one of her dormmates as they made their way to lunch, mostly rumors about Quidditch. Alice still found the newfound friendliness of her classmate alarming. After she'd shed fifty pounds, she'd somehow become worthy of basic courtesy, and she wasn't sure if it annoyed or pleased her.

Lunch was the first time today where she could catch her breath. Unwinding over a cup of tea, she pored over her small day planner.
Monday, 13th September
8-10 AM, Double Transfiguration. Essay due.
11-12 PM, Potions, Bloody useless test, STUDY!!
4-6 PM, Double Ancient Runes
Owl mum and dad.

It was the last note that caught her attention. She'd all but forgotten about the sheaf of parchment neatly folded in her bag. She'd spent a good hour penning it last Friday night, reassuring her parents that all was well at Hogwarts. She'd read in the papers about the death of her father's old partner, purportedly targeted for marrying a muggle. It was a strange world, where senior Patrol Officers could be killed without repercussion.

She abandoned the Great Hall, swinging her heavy leather bag across her shoulders. She really needed to stop lugging half the library with her. Alice let her mind wander as she flitted up the stairs, avoiding trick steps like the plague. She'd had more than enough encounters with fake steps to last a lifetime.

Luck, for the first time in several hours, blessed her, and she made the journey without serious incident. The rain was drumming on the windows, white noise filling the West Tower. Alice rolled her jumpers sleeves down, trying to ignore the familiar bite of the cold air. She loved it up here, even with the chill. There was something so wonderful about being so high in the air. Alice had to fight the mad urge to jump through a window, butterflies dancing in her stomach at the thought.

The owlery was as noisy as ever. Alice took care to avoid stepping on owl pellets, scanning the rafters for her rather useless bird. She spied the haughty barn owl in a private corner, eyeing her disdainfully. She suppressed a scowl, trying for sweetness as she offered her letter.

"Tylluan, come here," she clicked a few times, hoping vainly the prat of a bird would listen. The owl decided to preen his feathers, instead. Alice shot the bird a withering look. "You're useless, you know that? I have half a mind to roast you for dinner, you mangy git."
The owl opted to screech at her, a sound that belonged more in the seven circles of hell than Hogwarts. Alice glowered at her useless owl, wondering if she could convince the house elves to serve him up in a nice stew for her. What did owl taste like, anyways? Gamey, probably.

"Oh stop whining, you little shit," she muttered darkly, contenting herself with the knowledge of several hexes that would teach the bird a lesson. A rather more friendly Marsh Owl allowed her to tie her letter to its leg. It hopped kindly onto her arm, and she wound her way through the Owlery, happening upon a vaguely familiar figure in the window. Alice hesitated. It was a strange thing to find a Slytherin here, much less one separated from the back. Curious, she mused, as she approached.

"Beg pardon," she offered with a dimpled smile, reaching past to launch the owl to the sky. "Glan Tywn Hall, please," she called after the bird, who gave a sleepy hoot of understanding. Alice felt a surge of envy as the owl swept through the sky. She watched the owl for a moment before glancing to the Slytherin she'd interrupted. "You're Lestrange, right?" She queried, curiosity dancing in her eyes.

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Alice had never been the type to approach a Slytherin, and certainly not so far away from the safety of her housemates. But her string of good fortune had emboldened her, and she drew upon that fabled Gryffindor nerve. Or stupidity. Perhaps both.

His voice was surprisingly cold, but Alice didn't shrink back. He was tall, imposing, everything she was supposed to shy away from. Her Gryffindor sensibilities told her that this was the enemy, the predator, that she should probably make an excuse and run. But something about him piqued her interest. His eyes seemed to contain a promise of exquisite cruelty. Alice wasn't sure why she thought this, but something in her gut assured her she was right.

He acknowledged her family name, and Alice nodded, a faint smile dimpling her cheeks once again. Alice was proud to be a Wyman, proud to come from a family of exceptional witches and wizards. Her father was a well respected wizard, known for his sense of fairness and dependability. His family bred Aethenon winged horses, pulling in a tidy profit for his family. Alice's mum was decidedly old-hat, preferring to keep the company of fellow purebloods in the higher echelons of society. Alice wasn't sure if she necessarily bought into her mum's beliefs, but she had no desire to break her mother's heart.

Alice felt him more than saw him move in. She drew in a sharp breath, tensing faintly. It was impressive how quiet someone so tall could be. Alice was sure if she had limbs that long, she'd be completely incapable of moving gracefully. She looked up at him, searching his eyes. There didn't seem to be any warmth there. She hooked her bangs behind her ear, aware that she could sense his body heat in the chill of the Owlery.

His words, she supposed, could be construed as threatening. It was obvious that was his intent. Alice opted to jut out her chin, a smile twitching at her lips. Her father had taught her to never let anyone catch her scared. And after years of relentless teasing, Alice had false bravado down to an art.
"Shouldn't you been cautious as well, then?" She returned his question, searching his face for... something. She wasn't sure why he fascinated her so, but she felt almost drawn to him. He wasn't just your average Slytherin git. "Besides, I'm rather handy with a wand. I don't think I have too much to worry about. Not here, at least." She looked out the window at the grounds of Hogwarts, assured by its familiar grandeur. Hogwarts, she felt very strongly, was safe.

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"No," she mused thoughtfully, contemplating his response. "I suppose not."

Alice didn't put much stock in rumors. Hogwarts had the tendancy to run away with the truth, distorting it beyond recognition. She knew there were blood purists in Hogwarts. They were annoyingly vocal about their opinions, after all. Alice was reluctant to peg every Slytherin as a maniac, willing to torture and kill their classmates for the crime of being born. But if she would have suspected anyone, it might have been Rabastan Lestrange. The power in his hand as he captured her wrist seemed almost effortless. She didn't doubt he could snap her bones. It seemed like only common courtesy was preventing him from doing so. She wasn't sure if she liked the way his touch made her pulse race.

Despite herself, Alice felt her cheeks grow warm. She cleared her throat, attempting to compose herself again. He released her hand and she was acutely aware of the loss, how empty her wrist felt. Alice pushed her irrational thoughts aside. Their very existence annoyed her. Alice prided herself on being levelheaded and sensible. This was... not. His touch, a Slytherin's no less, shouldn't send a thrill of excitment through her blood. She should be studying, safe in the common room, far away from the Lestrange. She found that she didn't really want to leave. He was so wonderfully different from her usual company, even as cold as his eyes were.

"Well," Alice commented lightly, "I mean, yes that's very true, but I'm ambidextrous. I'm not so sure I'd get both my wrists broken before I could draw. Do give me a little credit?"

A wry smile lit her lips, and she felt the knot of tension in her shoulders ease somewhat. Her eyes warmed. She was clearly more relaxed, now that the offending hand was absent and her thoughts were a little more sensible. Emboldened, she couldn't help but tease, "Forgive me if I'm still not sure I'd like to run into you in a dark corridor, though."

Actually, she thought, she might like that very much.

Well. So much for sensible thoughts.

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A more sensible part of her brain told her to extract herself politely and head back to the castle. It informed her that this was an ultimately silly venture, that she needed to refresh herself on her Ancient Runes reading. Good students didn't blow off their studies to goad Slytherins, no matter how curious they were. Good students kept their nose in their books and prepared themselves. Alice, in a fit of madness, opted to ignore her sensibilities. Sensible seemed so... boring.

He closed in on her, and Alice shifted. The brick wall bit into her back, the chill cutting rather neatly through her uniform. Absently, Alice wished she had brought a cloak with her. She shifted her weight, her feet searching for better purchase. Her wand burned against her skin, tucked neatly in her left pocket. She hated to admit he was right. She'd willingly let him corner her, practically invited it. She jut out her chin proudly, meeting his gaze, consequences be damned. Alice might have doubted her sorting, but in this moment she was undeniably a Gryffindor. She clung to that thought, using it to shield her from the peculiar thrill he inspired in her. Well, trying at least.

Yes, the mad thought danced across her mind, and Alice feared she'd finally cracked. Evidently the strain of her coursework had caused her to snap. Strange, she always thought going mad would be a much more painful thing.

"That depends. Do you want to hurt me?" She queried, arching a brow quizically. She folded her arms, her fingers brushing against her wand. The warmth of the vine was reassuring. "Should I be afraid of you, Mr. Lestrange?" The honorific was laced with sarcasm. She wasn't sure why she so enjoyed trying to press his buttons, to work her way under his skin. It seemed terribly unlike her. Alice usually kept to herself, content to keep only books for company.

Well, she mused, last year she wouldn't have been afforded an opportunity like this. Fifty pounds heavier and she simply hadn't existed to many of her classmates. It was a rather delicious change of pace.

this post is finished and it stands at a grand total of 351 words. this template was made by SARAH SMILE at caution, the graphics go to tumblr, and the lyrics go to the pixies. my character is looking fine in her uniform, what what if i do say so, and i would like to add that my corgi decided to help me with this post by placing his chin on the keyboard. I blame him for the typos

Her hand wrapped around the handle of her wand at her waist, the vinewood so hot she feared it might ignite. She froze as his wand pressed against her cheek, a feather-light carress. It was a finely crafted wand, certainly much older than hers. It seemed eager, hungry almost. Like it, more than its owner, was ready to attack. It was a curious thought.

His hand was at her throat, pinning her with a laughable amount of effort. She hoped against hope he couldn't feel the way her pulse was fluttering. At least he wasn't in her head, where hexes and defensive charms were dancing in wait. She could feel their words on the tip of her tongue. Her wand hummed, ready to defend, ready to fight. And yet, she remained still. She couldn't look away if she wanted to. Maddeningly, she had no desire to look away, no pressing need to race for the exit. She should. Merlin's tits, she really ought to escape.

She tilted her jaw, an almost haughty look crossing her face. She kept her fear in a secret place, locked away in the pounding of her heart. It was unseasonably warm as she felt his breath on her face. The autumn breeze seemed a lifetime away, a mere memory of a chill.

Alice didn't doubt that she was goading his temper. And she didn't doubt he was capable of following through on his threats. She could feel the violence in his wand, sparking against her cheek. She had a mad desire to put his wand under magnifying glass, memorize every cruel curve. It was a beautifully crafted thing, almost alive against her skin. It seemed almost an afterthought that this wand was very eager to harm her.

The vine wand in her hand cooled as he lowered the wand, satisfied that the immediate threat had passed. Alice unfolded her arms loosely, determined to keep her composure. Her mother, a true Englishwoman, would have been proud of her stiff upper lip. The thought curved her lips faintly.

The smile faltered when his hand touched hers. For half a moment, she thought he would make good on his threat and shatter the bones. She favored her left hand, and did not enjoy the idea of having it slung in a cast. Her handwriting with her right was appalling.

When her pale hand touched his arm, she almost wished he had broken it instead. Something there seemed to slither beneath her touch. Her fingers seemed rooted to it and she could feel something vile crawling up her hand, following a straight line to her heart. Her heart slammed painfully against her chest at the sensation. There was something unholy in that little patch of skin. Suddenly, Alice was quite grateful for being pinned against the wall. Her knees felt curiously weak. She wasn't sure she would remain vertical without the stones at her back.

Her fingers ignored the sensible course of action. She did not pull away, did not let her fear scream out. Instead, they traced the curve of nightmares, exploring the bloodlust that danced across his skin. It was repulsive. A vile corruption of magic. A crime against nature. But her fingers were fascinated, and Alice felt her mouth go very dry. This was something greater than she could imagine. This was magic that she abhored, that opposed everything her family stood for. It was magic that belonged in the darkest places, not fit to see the light.

And she was hopelessly captivated by it.

"Did it hurt?" She asked quietly, her eyes fixed on the evil spot. The concern in her voice was overwhelmed by her fascination. It was horrible magic, but powerful. She had to admire how beautifully crafted whatever curse was burned into his skin. This was magic she loved to read about. Old magic. Primal. Magic more suited to the age of blood sacrifice and ritual, an artefact of the history of their kind. She felt drawn to this mark, like a lamb to slaughter. She finally pulled her gaze away from the little patch of evil that burned beneath her fingertips, meeting his gaze. She knew objectively that this was worth being frightened about, but she was overwhelmed with a morbid curiosity, one that lent her a stupid sort of bravery.

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He pulled away suddenly, and Alice was left only with the bitter breeze. The owlery plummeted several degrees, and she rubbed her arms absentmindedly, willing warmth back into her bones. She could feel goosebumps rising on her skin as the chill set in, a cruel jolt back to reality. Lightheaded, she simply let the wall support her, drawing comfort from the harsh edges of stone. Hogwarts was safe, she reminded herself. Alice tried desperately to believe this.

He spoke, his explanations vague, but inviting. She lifted her gaze from the windowsill, watching Rabastan. The mystery surrounding him was almost too much to resist. She wanted to peel back the shadows until his secrets lay bare. Her curiosity had only been encouraged by that evil piece of magic. Not for the first time, Alice wished she was a little less nosy. Her need to know almost always got her in trouble, whether it was a clever forgery to peruse the Restricted Section or taking advantage of being a wallflower. Once something intrigued her, very little could get in her way. It was a trait that made her an excellent student, but did nothing for her personal safety.

But this? This wasn't some tame exploration on the properties of the number nine. This was mad. She shouldn't be openly fascinated by a classmate who rather clearly wanted to hurt her. It shouldn't matter how masterful whatever curse on his arm was. She needed to stop right here and forget this had ever happened.

He was right, though. Alice hated to admit it. But there was no ignoring what had marked him. There was no pretending he was just another prat, full of hot air. His threats weren't empty.

Alice pushed herself off the wall, determined to stand on her own power.
"I am a pureblood," she reminded him, her voice quiet. She chose her words carefully. She wasn't so stupid as to declare herself a muggleborn supporter. Not here, not when Lestrange was referencing He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. But it would be a terrible thing, to be painted a blood purist as a Gryffindor. It would make the teasing of her earlier years look friendly. Alice watched him cautiously, her eyes neutral. "I am not unaware of the rumors."

this post is finished and it stands at a grand total of 369 words. this template was made by SARAH SMILE at caution, the graphics go to tumblr, and the lyrics go to the pixies. my character is looking fine in her uniform, what what if i do say so, and i would like to add that wheeeeee