⋆𝐃𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠⋆ - 𝐓.𝐌.𝐑

𝟎𝟑𝟒 - 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐎𝐧 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐞

⋆

𝗙𝗲𝗯𝗿𝘂𝗮𝗿𝘆 𝟭𝟬, 𝟭𝟵𝟰𝟱

Elizabeth knew that the moment she and Thomas would reach the secluded corridor around the bend, he'd start complaining – it was a palpable charge that permeated the air between them, his ire thickening and straining like the coil of a snake about to lunge forth.

She ditches prefect duties once, and he acts like she just carved out half of his soul.

He opens his mouth, beautiful and teasing and lancing, and she tenses up in preparation – she isn't weary of him, there's a cushion there – but she's weary of the fall.

"You left me with a Prewett, can you even comprehend how torturous that was?"

Actually yes, she can imagine, Ignatius has bullied her for the last four years.

"No, but I'm sure you're about to tell me."

The boy halts his stride to send her an unimpressed look before continuing, "well, yes. First, he accused of me numerous war crimes just because I am a Slytherin and therefore inherently evil and undeserving of any rights and titles within the school-"

-"tragic, however shall you recover-?"

Another scathing look thrown her way – Ignatius taught her what misogyny looked like in the Wizarding World, joining forces with Hornby and Droope to harrow her life in this foreign realm until she learned to fend for herself.

-"second, he made several allusions to me being in cahoots with Grindelwald's army, and at minimum a disciple and propagator of his propaganda within these walls, if not a full-on spy trying to take Hogwarts down from the inside-"

-"my condolences for the insults to your abilities, he should've known that if you really were a spy – Hogwarts would've fallen by now-"

That earned her a very satisfied smirk, which meant her words healed what was directly insulted – his ego. Elizabeth recalled Ignatius setting her clothes on fire, back then, the magical burns didn't show on her skin and she had no one to turn to.

-"right you are, my darling. And third..." he trailed off, the fire in the set of his mouth smoking up his eyes as he rounded on her.

"Third-?" Elizabeth echoed dubiously. Her apathy souring to caution as Thomas corralled her until her back hit the wall – and then he was caging her in with his hands pressed against the stones on either side of her head.

"And third, he talked about you."

Ah, hubris.

She knew some being was laughing at her from their nebular throne.

"Did he now?" she couldn't help but roll her eyes at the notion, knowing that Thomas was tracking the movement keenly – she hoped he enjoyed the momentary view of her blood vessels, that he gorged on the sight of her scleras. "What did he say that's got you so incensed?" Elizabeth maintained the detached nonchalance in her tone, despite the cobblestones digging into her spine.

"Oh darling – what didn't he say, really," Thomas' darkened eyes gained that domineering glint they wore so well. "He regaled me with some of his jests and marauding at your expense. Took such ardent pride in those actions, and..." his voice had tapered off into a derisive hiss.

"And...?" she could feel in her marrow what was coming, in the way red started seeping out of his pores, in the tensing of his jaw – Ignatius Prewett had always been a perverse fiend.

"And, Lilibet, he questioned our relationship. How far had we gone – have I had my way with you yet, and in what manner did I take you. The Positions, the noises you might've made..." out of her peripheral, Elizabeth watched as his hands traveled downwards – skimming the stones deftly until they settled on either side of her waist like manacles. Lightning traveled along with him, from the top of her head down through every single nerve-ending.