Dark Phoenix (Nico Di Angelo & Harry Potter)

4

Nico didn't allow himself to lose his composure. Such control came with practice, but more than that, experience.

The dagger had slipped from where it had pushed beneath his chin to the hollow of the blond's neck - there was no ignoring that. However convenient as it was to pull away and be led by the blond's rope, Nico di Angelo was not the sort of person who enjoyed complacency at the hands of another.

His mind went static but he carried on with the charade.

"I beg your pardon?"

The blond, undeterred by Nico's mask of confusion, offered his reflection a knowing smile.

"Harry Potter is practically blind without his glasses," he said, bringing a hand - no longer trembling - up behind him to brush Nico's nose where the glasses would have sat.

The son of Hades was momentarily stunned. It wasn't the physical contact, but rather the ridiculous statement that struck him as stupefied.

No. The blond clearly had something up his sleeve. If he expected Nico to comply with that childish assumption, then the blond would be thoroughly disappointed. Unfortunately for him, the boy wasn't finished.

"Too simple for you?" the blond quipped, his easygoing tone tugging at Nico's temper. "Or you could say that you've lost your memory and be done with it, but your head appears to be the biggest traitor. You know too much to have lost a great deal. "

Those words caught Nico off guard. He gazed at the reflection once more, no longer able to recognise who had the upper hand here. The blond had a mask of absolute calm, and it was Nico's face that gave everything away - from worry to confusion, all the way to fear, but he refused to accept it.

If it steered in the particular direction he had no control over, Nico might just end up having to leave with blood on his hands.

Stop talking. Stop talking. Stop talking.

"What-" Nico swallowed down his uncertainty before adding, "- are you going on about?"

The blond hummed. "Read between the lines, won't you? I'm saying that I can read your mind-"

"Bullshit," Nico interjected, unwilling to let his heart hammer itself out of his chest. "Think of a better lie."

Maybe he was the one lying to himself here. Nico wasn't aware of the extents that magic could go, and mind reading was definitely not on his list of the fascinating aspects of it. If the blond was right, the son of Hades would have no choice but to forfeit his plans on playing dumb and blaming everything on the lapse in his memory, much less go along the lines of having been possessed. There was also the possibility that the blond was bluffing his way into an easy escape.

Nico gritted his teeth, but his stony expression remained unwavered.

"I call bull," he repeated, more to himself than to the boy. "Not you. You can't read my mind."

Putting all my eggs in one basket, hmm? It had come to that.

Nico's hopes now rested on the idea that mind reading was a special skill, and that Harry Potter was no stranger to demeaning the blond on every occasion.

Lady luck hasn't been on my side but she can't hide herself forever.

The blond appeared to have caught his breath. Nico saw his Adam's apple move up and down as the gaze that had once been languid switched to one of apprehension.

Then Nico felt it. As soon as the boy's blue eyes darted to look at his own on the reflection, the son of Hades felt a faint scratch on his temple. No, it wasn't a scratch.