Unfortunate Truths

Padril leaned against the base of a tree, the Lake stretching out before him, shining brightly as it reflected the afternoon sun. In all honesty, he should have been inside studying, but the Ravenclaw Quidditch team was practicing this morning and, well...we all have our vices. Besides, it was a beautiful Sunday, and Padril wanted to have a moment to himself to bask in love and light. His navy blue polo jumper he had worn in the brisk morning was now folded neatly over a branch. He had placed his shoes and socks underneath the same branch, his pants rolled up so he could dip his feet in the cool water. A sudden, uncharacteristic urge came over him. After glancing around to make sure no one was watching, then spotting a group of students on the otherside of the Lake, and then realizing he didn't care anyway, Padril discarded his shirt and pants with his shoes. Clad in only his bright blue boxer-briefs, the Hufflepuff jumped into the Lake, letting the cool water rush over him.

He held his breath and dived, swimming down. He thought about his feelings the best in these few moments while he had breath left. The Ravenclaw Quidditch player was called Damian Kerr. A slim, brown haired boy with the most gorgeous smile. His teeth were white, his skin was smooth, he was toned, and he was smart. Just when Padril thought he couldn't get any more perfect, the first time he had met Damian (long after the crush had begun), had been when he accidentally stepped into him while daydreaming. Damian had looked him up and down, gave him one of his enchanting smiles, apologised, then asked about his day. In an Irish accent. Padril had been too in love to say anything, so he just smiled and walked away. Meanwhile, the Hufflepuff had melted into a pile of rainbows.

Damian was probably straight. Padril didn't fool himself into thinking they would be together. He had long ago become resigned to having these occasional crushes on straight boys. He would cherish them, and then move on. But for now, it was all so perfect. He had practiced well today on the Pitch, as far as Padril could gather. He didn't care for the sport, but he had picked up on some of it since he started watching Damian play. He let out a mental sigh. Now his lungs felt like they were on fire. Padril twisted, turning upwards, clawing desperately for the surface. He broke it, sucking in the air in big gulps, feeling deliciously alive.

It took him a few moments to notice the girl on the shoreline, standing by his clothes. He blushed. "Can I help you?" he asked, suddenly becoming self-conscious.

There were few things in the world that Vivianna truly loved. Potions, wandlore, heights, swimming, and a small handful of people. That was it really, and if the girl could only ever have those things for the rest of her life, such a life probably wouldn't be half-bad. However, the teenager did have a tendency to get a bit intolerable to be around whenever not enjoying her loves on an often enough basis. Potions was easy, the girl brewed all the time. Heights was equally as easy to find, Vivianna spent much of her time in the Hogwarts towers, climbing trees, or flying. Wandlore also wasn't too hard to come by, considering that the student did work part-time at a wand shop. The people part was a bit more complicated, considering that four of the people she would do practically anything for lived nowhere near Hogwarts. She wrote them, and the ring that she never took off was a twin to her cousin's, but lack of contact tended to make her irritable. It was only that morning that the teenager had realized that she hadn't gone for a swim in ages, and had decided to do so.

Upon arriving at the lake, the Slytherin couldn't believe her luck. Swimming in the water, with clothing abandoned on the shore, was Padril Crennent. The boy was a Hufflepuff, and someone Vivianna had been watching for a while. The girl kept tabs on may of her fellow students, and Padril was one of them. Imagine her surprise when the redhead put together some pieces and came up with the perfect piece of blackmail on the boy. She'd been puzzling over how to corner him for a while, and now the male had fallen straight into her lap. Vivianna was almost certain that the other student was gay. The witch had no problem with his sexuality, but was hardly above using it to give herself the upper hand.

"As a matter of fact you can," the female drawled when Padril addressed her, "care to come on out for a chat?" As soon as she asked this, the girl heard a sound from behind her and jerked her head towards the noise. It was Strike, her cat. Strike had received quite the reputation over the years of being a vicious monster. Perhaps he might've be a little more fond of biting all whom dared to approach than the average pet, but most of the rumors were incredibly exaggerated. Leaning down to scratch at Strike's brown ear, the witch wondered if the Hufflepuff would recognize her pet, and if it could be used as an intimidation tactic. Vivianna had no idea how the next few minutes would go, she did know, however, that they wouldn't be minutes to be forgotten.

Padril narrowed his eyes at the appearance of the infamous Hellcat. He had seen it running around the ground, and the younger students told stories about its viciousness. Exaggerated, certainly, but there was always a grain of truth to rumours. Besides, it was always better to be careful.

"Sure," he said lightly. "But could you turn around for a second? I'd like to be dressed first, if you don't mind." He floated in the water, watching the girl carefully, trying to place her face. She was a Slytherin around his age. He had seen her in class, but he was terrible at names. Why was a Slytherin girl he didn't know ambushing him anyway? Maybe she had heard he was starting a Muggle Film Club and wanted to ask him about it, without her elitist friends seeing them. At the thought, Padril's face brightened. Well, that certainly made sense.

Padril raised his hand out of the water. "Accio wand!" The instrument flew out from his pile of clothes and into his hand. As soon as the girl politely turned around, he could dry himself with a flick of his wand, and then his clothes wouldn't be saturated from the Lake. It also had the benefit of making him feel a little less naked.

The Slytherin just barely withheld a smirk as the boy's face displayed a noticeable reaction to her cat. Brilliant, so she could use that. Obviously it wouldn't be nearly as easy for Strike to scare someone around her age, as it would be for him to terrify a first year, but the girl would use any advantage she could get. She liked to think of herself as resourceful like that.

When the older student asked her if she could turn around while he got dressed, the teenager was rather temped to let something completely insensitive slip. Vivianna held her tongue, however, and just nodded before turning around and taking two strides from the Hufflepuff's clothes.

The redhead didn't have a plan. She never had a plan for things like this beyond tracking the person down. The few times she had made plans, they'd been thrown out the metaphorical window. The witch was far better at taking in expressions and reactions, and adjusting her own plans and actions to what would be most effective in that particular situation. As far as the student was concerned, that was a far more useful life skill than Transfiguration. After all, when in life would she ever need or want to know how to turn an owl into an opera glass?

When Vivanna turned her back, Padril hurried quickly up the shore, a watchful eye remaining locked on the Hellcat. As soon as he was out of the water, he flicked his wand and murmured "Exaresco". A gust of hot air enveloped him, drying him completely in a few moments. He snatched his cream chinos from the branch where they rested, sliding into them awkwardly. In a few moments, he had slid a brown belt through the loops of the pants, his grey shirt was buttoned up, and he was thrusting his head through his polo jumper.

Significantly less naked, Padril picked up his wand from where he had placed it when he was changing it and put it in his pocket. He crossed his arms and leaned back against the tree, smiling at Vivanna when his eyes weren't darting to the cat, which had remained in the same position while he was changing. It was an unnerving beast, to say the least.

"So what can I help you with, Miss...?" he asked, still hopeful he had a recruit to the Muggle Film Club.

He was being polite, and smiling. Well then, that decided her plan of action easily enough. "Vivianna Varnes, fifth year Slytherin," the girl introduced herself with a smile. "And you're Padril Crennent, sixth year, Hufflepuff, muggleborn. Don't worry, I'm not a purist, one of my grandparents was a muggle," the teenager was about to turn away a bit when she realized that knowing so much about him might seem unusual to the boy. Quickly painting on a playful smirk, Vivianna added, "we Slytherins tend to think it's our business to know everyone in the castle." Reaching up to tap her nose twice with her index finger, the girl smiled a bit at her own lying skills.

"I know it's been a few years for you, but the Wizarding world is quite different from the muggle one. Of course there are the major things that everyone wants to know about like jobs, and transportation," the witch was officially proud of herself, for so smoothing making stuff up as she went along, "but then there are the things that not everyone thinks to tell you. Like the Ministry's laws on certain pets, or what this world thinks about homosexuality."

With that, the girl turned away from the male and figured that she might was well let Strike do his job. Crouching down in the grass, Vivianna called, "come'ere Strike." A soft smile crossed her lips as the animal padded its way over to her. Reaching out to the large cat, the teenager scratched the creature under his chin as he purred roughly. Rolling her eyes when Strike spotted some sort of prey and froze, the Slytherin figured that her pet taking something down was even better than her original plan. Standing as the animal stalked towards a bird a little over half his size, the witch watched as her little beast quickly and effectively took down the avian.

The conversation started off nice enough. He was perplexed by her knowledge of him, but more interested than concerned. Vivianna, it seemed, intended to use him in some plot or another that the Slytherin's were so famous for. A hapless Hufflepuff she saw the chance to manipulate. Inwardly, he smiled. He was curious as to what she had planned for him, what assets and strengths she had thought she could gain by using him. No Slytherin had ever expressed a direct manipulative interest in him before, so he considered this a compliment. If he played the role properly, he could learn a lot about the House and use it later. Subtly foil their plans, punish them for thinking they could go around manipulating people.

At the mention of homosexuality, his smile froze. Plots evaporated, leaving only blind panic. How did she know? There was only one person in the world he had told, and that was a Muggle boy in London who was so deep in the closet that he saw Narnia. Was she a legilimens? What else did she know? Who had she told? What was she going to do with the information? As she bent towards the cat, he silently regained his composure. He had to think this through. If he panicked, she would win. He had to figure out how what she wanted and how she thought he would respond. Then she would smash those expectations. There was also the distinct possibility she was actually trying to offer help, in a Slytherin-esque way. He doubted it, but the possibility lingered.

He allowed his face to fall into a more natural stance of pleasantly concerned. "Interesting," he said brightly. "Perhaps you can enlighten me?" He was just a poor, naive, homosexual Hufflepuff who she could wrap around her finger. When a badger was disadvantaged in a fight, it would roll onto its back and release an odour that smelt like a corpse. The attacking beasts would become confused and lean in to examine the supposed-corpse. The second they were exposed, the badger would leap up and rip their throats out. It shouldn't come to that, hopefully. Padril was not a violent or mean person, but he wasn't going to let himself be manipulated.

"Don't play dumb," Vivianna said patronizingly, "I know you're intelligent, at least more so than some of our classmates. Besides, the I'm-an-idiot look doesn't work with your features." Pausing to crack her neck, the younger student sent the Hufflepuff a slightly mocking grin.

"However, just incase that look on your face held more truth behind it than acting, I'll spell it out for you. You're gay, and in the closet. I'm a Slytherin who likes having blackmail on people. I won't tell anyone, I might even help you keep your little secret if you ask. Got that?" the witch said all of this as if discussing what she'd eaten for breakfast.

It was odd. The student almost wanted to help the male. They way he'd tried to play dumb, to protect himself and get her to make the first move, was almost Slytherin. The girl really respected whenever a non-snake used sneaky tactics. Most tended to shy away from them, not wanting to be a filthy Slytherin, and if she was any less good at reading faces, Vivianna would have fallen for it. Bloody hell, she was already fond of one Hufflepuff, she certainly didn't need to get fond of another one. And certainly not one that she was blackmailing.

Vivanna had threatened to blackmail him with his sexuality, one of the worst things he could imagine a student at Hogwarts doing. It was shameless. She had probably manipulated countless others. How many Hufflepuffs did he know who didn't have his resolve had she twisted? How many other gay students had she threatened so she could pursue her ambition. Fury boiled through Padril. He let it rush over over him, then focused it into a pure, cold loathing. It was how he had learned to deal with bullies throughout his life. Most were bigger than him, and violence never solved anything permanently anyway. For hatred, you had to think long term. He hated bullies for how they hurted other people, and when he dealt with them, it had to be in a way that would significantly curb that. And in order to do that, he had to be patient. He tried to force his face to sit impassively, but it was scowled in rage.

Intellectually, Padril knew exactly what to do. But the complete outrageousness of the situation was ridiculous. Angry tears filled his eyes and he brushed them away, the shame of crying in front of this terrible stranger making him feel even worse.

"Why?" he asked, placing a hand to his head out of confusion and loss. "I haven't even told anyone, not even my parents. You're, what, fifteen years old? What do you want that's so important you'd hurt someone like this?" Padril couldn't put a finger on what he was feeling right now, but it was a lot of really powerful things all at once. He needed to get control of himself, this wasn't going to help anyone.

Once Padril had finished speaking, Vivianna remained frozen for a few moments, blinking. Huh, it looked like this Hufflepuff had guts. Or she'd had the bad luck to stumble across someone with very high moral values. The teenager had made sure that her face remained impassive even through the words that stung. The witch rarely allowed the words of others to effect her, she'd be a depressed mess by now if she had, but what the boy had said struck something inside of her.

The redhead tilted her head to the side for a moment, attempting to come up with an answer to Padril's question. "Survival," the OWL student said finally, voice soft. After a few more moments of tense silence, Vivianna spoke again, "that's what it's always about, really. I didn't go into this with the intention to hurt, even though I wasn't blind to the fact I might. I was even prepared to help you, once all the blackmail stuff was over and done with. Then again, perhaps working with someone who has something on you is more of a Slytheirn concept."

Vivianna had spoken with a light and thoughtful voice, as if completely unaware that she was talking to someone who was not only crying, but also enraged. Vivianna wasn't a bad person, not really. The Varnes could be a very sweet and helpful girl, once a person got beneath all the cruel words and manipulative tendencies. It was a vicious cycle, by the time the witch knew a person well enough to like them, the person in question tended to hate her for the part of her they'd seen.