Defying Gravity

VII: Circe

Did you guys enjoy Wynn beating the snot out of Lennox? We did! Get ready for more fun surprises!

Disclaimer: We do not, and never will own the rights to any familiar characters or original Harry Potter world ideas. They belong respectively to the original author, J.K. Rowling.

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5 October 2013
Highlands of Scotland
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

When exactly my shaking switched from fear to rage, I wasn't completely sure, but I was sure of one thing: if Wynn hadn't punched him, I would have cursed him.

As I made my way to the infirmary, I kept trying to tell myself that I didn't enjoy the blood running down Lennox's face, that the rage that was blazing its way through my veins didn't feel good. I tried to forget that for a moment, I wanted Lennox dead.

He slandered me in front of the entire school. He made a fool of me and riled Wynn up to his absolute breaking point. I'd never once witnessed him so terrifyingly angry. I should have been terrified, but that dark part of me liked the chaos I'd unknowingly constructed. I hated myself for it.

The doors to the infirmary burst open, and a group of Lennox's piss pot friends stumbled out. A few leered when they saw me, but I didn't dignify them with a glare as I brushed passed them. I stalked my way over to where Lennox sat, hunched over on the edge of the bed. Madam Pomphrey was nowhere in sight.

He straightened when he saw me coming, and had the audacity to shoot me a smug grin. "Come to grovel at my feet? Really, you don't need to. It's your little Hufflepuff pet who should be apologizing."

"If you know what's good for you, you'll bite your tongue before I shove it up your arse." I warned, but it didn't seem to phase him.

"Always the insults. You're a lot more bark than bite. Besides, what would your grandmother do to you if she found out what kind of company you kept? We could just forget this ever happened if you tell the half-blood to bugger off."

Oh, he wanted bite, now did he? I'd show him just how big my bite could be. "Go on then, tell my grandmother all about the company I keep, just be sure to include the part about how you falsely accused her granddaughter of whoring around, and about the time you pushed me into a wall. Don't forget about the bruises you left on my arm from your too tight grip. Those were accidents weren't they? I hope you do remember that my grandmother doesn't believe in accidents."

There was rage boiling in his eyes, but also a certain helplessness that I found far too much joy in. "I don't believe in accidents either," I whispered, leaning closely. "If you don't tell her, I promise I will, and I'll be sure to include all the terrifying details. Imagine what she'll think of you? About what she'll tell other families? Can you guess what type of rumors will be spread about how inadequate your parents are. Practicing dark magic, and letting their abusive son run around with such a sweet, innocent girl. 'The Rosier girl deserved better,' they'll whisper, just loud enough for you to hear. 'The Mackendrick boy was trouble from the start, I just knew it.'"

"What do you want from me?" he whispered harshly.

I straightened, brushing out the non existent wrinkles in my jeans and adjusting my braid. "I want you to leave me alone," I informed him, not batting an eye. "If you don't, well, I guess you can figure that one out for yourself, can't you?"

Broken, defeated, helpless. I'd won, and satisfaction stirred within me. He deserved it, the voice whispered, and for once I didn't find myself struggling to disagree. As I reached for the door, I threw the slumped quidditch captain a sweet smile. "One more thing. The half-blood has a name," I called out over my shoulder, "It's Wynn, and if I catch you bothering him, you can expect me to follow through with all of those promises I made."