The Taming of The Viper

Chapter 22: Throes of Passion

The room swayed like a ship rocked by waves and Amicia rose up onto wobbly legs, struggling to remain an immovable anchor while sinking in a sea of panic. When standing, she met Nott nearly eye to eye, but in this moment she felt no taller than the house elf who's gnarled fingers were prying the broken glass from her grasp. She peered over Nott's shoulder and at the bottle, still not believing that it landed on her.

Prayers and lucky socks be damned.

"You want to spin again?" She asked him in a low voice, though that was utterly pointless considering everyone was intently listening in. "I won't take it personally."

"Sorry," he said insincerely and with a one-sided grin. "That'd be against the rules."

Someone in the circle scoffed.

"Aren't you the one who makes the rules, Nott?" asked Draco, his voice steeped in cynicism.

"Yeah, that's right," Theo didn't break eye contact with Amicia while he spoke, "and I intend to uphold them."

Of course. She fought the urge to roll her eyes and opted for biting down on her lip instead. How bloody convenient that the only rules they aren't willing to break are their own.

Taking one more glance at the bottle, Amicia drew in a shaky breath and squared her shoulders, rising up to the full height she'd inherited from her mother. If this was her fate, then she would accept it with grace. Like hell she'd give these people the satisfaction of seeing her squirm. Amicia held a tight grip on her dignity and it was going to take more than this for her to let it slip from her grasp.

"Lead the way," she said to Nott and watched his grin broaden.

The scent of his cologne mingled with tobacco and Firewhiskey trailed behind him when he brushed past her and Amicia followed it reluctantly.

"Hold on, isn't that one of Potter's friends?" She overheard someone say in a hushed voice. "I could've sworn she was in Gryffindor."

"She was one of Potter's friends. I heard them arguing in the Great Hall a few weeks back. Got pretty nasty, but if you ask me it's for the best. Malfoy's always saying we ought to stick with our own kind."

Amicia balled her hands into tight fists.

"Ladies first." Theo bowed and waved her through the closet door.

Stepping over the threshold, Amicia's vision dimmed to adjust to the darkness and she could scarcely make out the shapes of winter coats surrounding her on either side. In front of her, old wooden crates –much like the one Hagrid kept the Skrewts in– were stacked one on top of the other and empty portrait frames leaned against the walls.

The door creaked closed behind her and the finality of the latch clicking into place had Amicia's fingers grasping for the wand at her side, only to feel an empty holster. Taking a deep breath and clinging onto a shred of wavering confidence, Amicia turned around to face Theo.

"So..., " she started warily.

"So...," he mimicked but with a humorous lilt.

With what little light was bleeding in from beneath the door, Amicia could hardly make out Theo's features. He was still grinning though, that much she could guess, and she heard him take a step closer.

"You could have warned me that this was the so-called game we were going to play."

The floorboards creaked. He'd taken another step towards her. "Would you have agreed to play if I did?"

"Not in a million years."

It was only when Theo spoke again, his Firewhiskey-laced breath warm on her face, that Amicia realized how close he was.