2 pm Meeting

Vivianna bared her teeth at Reid, not willing to give him any more than that. He was looking to provoke her, that much she knew. The worst part of it all wasn't his words, but the look in his eyes. There was a glimmer of something almost condescending there, something that made it obvious what he thought of her. But no matter what Reid thought, she wasn't an idiot. Sure, she occasionally said dumb things, and had almost blown herself up in the lab more times that she could count, but she had been sorted into Slytherin for a reason. Even in moments where her emotions were all over the place, like then, she could maintain her composure.

So, even as she bared her teeth at the b@stard she loved, her eyes remained completely blank. Reid, in his seemingly unlimited brilliance, would almost certainly pick up on that, that her eyes were blank. He'd know that she was trying to hide something, and either too drained or unable to properly fake another emotion to cover it, resorting to blankness instead. After all, he'd seen her fake emotions effectively before. Vivianna took a certain cruel pleasure from the knowledge that the uncertainty would frustrate the male.

And then there was the fact that she and Reid should expect a boy first, by the way.

That was... a lot to take in. It was the "first" that got her. That one tiny, innocent word that usually held little importance in a sentence, was what made the offhand statement so hard to take in. For the five letter word implied that she and Reid would be having multiple children. The thought of Vivianna having multiple children was a difficult enough concept to grasp on its own. When one added to the equation that those children would also be Reid's... well... the redhead needed a moment.

"Oh thank Merlin," the teenager spat out a split second later, the rest of the statement suddenly registering. The relief in her tone was practically tangible, but Vivianna refused to be embarrassed by the words that had slipped from her tongue without her brain's permission. A boy she could deal with. A boy she could love; raise with care and patience and tenderness. Any child deserved that, a mother who genuinely cared, especially considering how messed up any child of hers and Reid's was bond to be. Vivianna would be able to raise a boy properly. Sure, she wouldn't be a perfect mother. She hadn't exactly had a good role model, and the infant would likely spend far more time in a Potions lab than generally recommended, but she was confident enough in her ability to raise a son. A daughter, on the other hand, was an entirely different story. If she ever needed to, the witch was sure that she'd be able to invent a potion that ensured a specific gender in a fetus. Reid would never have to know.

"So Reid, a son, excited yet? We should discuss names. Would your prefer Reid Jr, or something else?" Vivianna said, chin resting upon the palm of her right hand. Her tone wasn't mocking, but her eyes were practically alight with it. There was no way she'd name any son of hers after his father. "I've always liked the name Bradley, Bradley Miles Dixon," she enunciated slowly, pulling a face, "not bad. BMD, nice initials, don't you think?" It was a low blow, a disgustingly low blow. Reid had shown her Barbra's tombstone, and this was what she did with that trust?

It had been too easy. For once, just once, Vivianna wanted Reid to hurt too. He always seemed to have the upper hand, the better blackmail, the ability to spell out her weaknesses in front of her face as if she wasn't already hyper-aware of them and then walk away unharmed. Sure, she'd left her mark once, he'd always wear her scar, but that was different. She could slash up his body all she wanted, but it was the mind that really mattered. Vivianna spent every day of her life in constant pain. There was the physical withdrawal symptoms, lingering ache from Bertie's death, the way her heart clenched every time she looked at Reid and was forced to accept all over again that he'd never feel the same about her. After all, all was fair in love and war, and her relationship with Reid most certainly counted as both.

Was.......was it that difficult to understand? That massive of a strain on the mental processes?

"You're right. The reason behind your hypothetical Azkaban sentence would definitely not be assault."

"But I would like it to be."

Because I don't want to throw you in Azkaban for addiction.

Not that he couldn't, or wouldn't. But that he didn't want to. Wasn't it implied? It was a concession that he had given, unknowingly, but she had failed to see it. Failed to make the logical leap.

And then, his mind made the connection. For once, there was no stirring of contempt. The derision died a natural death- because Varnes wasn't being obtuse. She was being human. And being so, she only did that what humans were apt to do. Believe a more plausible falsehood, and ignore the stranger truth- completely. She couldn't believe that his implication could be positive. Couldn't comprehend, even in her wildest imaginations, that he might not seize every opportunity to ruin her life. She expected nothing of him.

"Bradley Miles Dixon.........not bad. BMD, nice initials, don't you think?"

Which was why it came as a swift punch, a punch to the gut, to realise that he did.

His eyelids closed and opened, a series of blinks, his face wiped clean; as clean as the eyes set into the mocking face opposite him. He'd always taken satisfaction....in the fact that he could avoid the pitfalls that most around him seemed to fall into, avoid the pathetic fallacies that regular people so indulged in. Hoping something from other people, for one. Hope had always been a rapid, unerring shortcut to being crushed. His most prominent character trait till date, one that had defined and shielded him for what seemed like forever- was his well-broadcasted derision for the people that surrounded him. His ill opinion of almost everyone he ever came into contact with. His utter lack of expectations.

But against all efforts, against all reason.....he had come to expect something. He didn't know what, yet....and hell if that wasn't caustic salt on the infected injury; but there was no other reason. He had to have come to expect something from the red-haired, blank-eyed girl sitting beside him, otherwise her mocking words wouldn't have come as a surprise. And whatever it was that he had been expecting.......this wasn't it.

He was disgusted with himself.

"Oh, I wouldn't know." The silence had stretched on long enough. If Varnes had the slightest drop of sense, then she would understand. Or more likely, misunderstand completely; and think he was rabid with rage instead of pierced by disappointment. But disappointed or no, he was still Reid f*cking Dixon. "I'm more partial to 'Bertie' myself."

His lips flickered. He could say more, so much more. Open and spit and shoot venom-tipped arrows, that could sear a person's flesh and strip them down to their bones. But he didn't. Didn't need to. His chair swiveled in its place, slate eyes turned to face the official, and the bland words dropped, "Anything else?"

A part of his mind wondered what would debilitate Varnes more. The fact that she had thrown what was possibly what was the most despicable taunt at his face yet, and he had chosen not to place the empty vial in his pocket on the official's desk- ensuring her Azkaban sentence. Or the fact that he had no cold looks, no derision, no stabbing words to toss her way- because the all-too readable lack of regard in his eyes was enough. She had fallen a long, long way.

The disgust at his weakness- was enough to reduce the girl atop the tree, to one of the nameless faces in the crowd. Back to the ordinary, unspecial, faceless mass that he wouldn't give a second glance to. Not again.

Ana really did try. She tried not to shoot annoyed glances at the students sitting in front of her, or roll her eyes at them when they weren't looking. In the end, though, she just couldn't help it. Whatever back and forth they were having could be dealt with on their own. Settling into her seat, Ana pulled out the form she was to finish at the end of the meeting.

Doing her best to ignore the bickering students across the desk from her, Ana took to mumbling along as she wrote out her comments. "Vivianna... Dixon," she started, words coming out about as fast as she was writing. At the very least, the Ministry would be pleased that the match was plausible. Children could be had, the requirements could be met, and she didn't have to hold an extra meeting to account for someone's problems. Sure, Ana probably would have felt bad for them for a moment, but only briefly.

She didn't realize the question was directed at her until she glanced up, eyebrow raised. "No, I daresay I don't have anything else for you today. I would guess that you two have a good bit to talk through, though. So you should probably head out and get to that." Her tone would undoubtedly be taken as rude, but Ana was pretty much just done. They could go; she didn't quite think she could handle them for very much longer.

"Oh, I wouldn't know. I'm more partial to 'Bertie' myself."

Vivianna could do little but blink, hoping that the pain wasn't too visible in her eyes. She'd hardly even thought about Bertie through the entire meeting, Reid tended to have that effect upon her. It was difficult to think of much while around him. Being pulled back into reality so quickly and efficiently stung. No, not stung, the pain was far worse than that. It was more like the throbbing ache of an infected wound, the kind that only worsened with movement.

She'd deserved it though. The witch would have done the same, in Reid's place, if provoked. The male had only retaliated, and Vivianna couldn't help but feel slightly guilty for intentionally going straight for his weak spot. Aiming for where she could cause the most damage, the most pain. The redhead would have frowned if she wasn't trying to remain expressionless, there were very few people her conscience kicked in for. The list had been composed of only four, but it seemed that Reid had been able to sneak in without her noticing. She shouldn't have been surprised, considering her feelings for him. It was unfair, how the other teenager was starting to worm his way into every single aspect of her life.

Unable to look at Reid any longer, the female turned her head back towards the Ministry employee that she still didn't know the name of. Not that she particularly cared to. Taking deep even breaths in an attempt to regulate her heart rate, Vivianna heard the woman murmur a name to herself. Not just any name, her name. Except... not. Vivianna Dixon. In that moment, the Slytherin was extraordinarily glad for the potion coursing through her veins.

Her reaction was accompanied by a single blink, the events of the last hour properly skinning in. This was really happening, she was to be Reid's wife, and Reid would be hers. Not by choice, but the redhead couldn't help but be momentarily happy with the Ministry, as much as the loathed her government. After all, this way she'd have Reid. He may not love her, but he'd still be hers. There were worse situations.

But then Vivianna thought of her mother, trapped in a marriage with a man whom she could never be good enough for. Her undying love mattered little, and the deep depression she had fallen into was sure to be fatal sooner or later. The teenager liked to think that she would never be so weak, stoop so low, rely on the opinions of another person so much that she would waste away without their approval. Her mother hadn't been felled by addiction however, and the redhead certainly cared more about what Reid thought of her than she should. It seemed that when the females of her family fell, they fell hard. Vivianna wasn't exactly surprised by that, she'd never been the type to do things half-heartedly.

The sixth-year couldn't help but think that the name had something of a ring to it, and Vivianna found herself growing slightly fond, before the more reasonable part of her brain kicked in. She was hardly going to take Reid's last name, no matter how much a part of her longed for it. She was the last Varnes, after all, and while she might not be particularly attached to the man whom had passed on his surname to her, she was quite fond of it. It was hers, always had been, and until now had been something that no one could ever take away from her.

Vivianna wondered if Reid would be alright with her keeping her maiden name. On second thought, that didn't matter. She was hardly going to let Reid's opinion effect what her name would be. Something as important as that was for her to decide. The redhead had always held great stock in names. It had taken her ages to name her kitten, before finally settling upon Strike. It suited him, terror that he was.

Vivianna Dixon-Varnes wouldn't be bad, the girl supposed. It sounded far better than Varnes-Dixon, that was sure. Or perhaps she could just remove the hyphen and have two last names. Maybe she could even convince Reid to do the same. A completely equal relationship. The Slytherin could have laughed at herself, that was hardly going to happen. From the moment they'd met, everything either had said or done had been part of one giant power-play. Neither were used to bowing to anyone, and was hardly going to give in without a fight. Vivianna was all too aware that the other teenager was winning. No, not winning, in the lead. No matter what her feelings, she wouldn't let him win. He could have her heart and her thoughts, but he would not take her dignity.

Reid too, turned to the graduated witch, and simply asker her if that was all. Vivianna inhaled lightly in shock. She had been expecting him to hand over the vial that he'd slipped from her pocket. There was a Ministry official in the same room as them, it would be pathetically easy. Surely if he was going to he would now. After all, watching her damnation unfold before her very eyes and being unable to prevent it would surely be more horrific than any other method. It hurt, knowing that Reid chose not to destroy her when it would be only too easy. He'd get revenge for her terribly low comment, and get out of having to marry her in one fell swoop. Not to mention that she'd used, even after he'd told her not to.

But what truly cut into her heart, was the lack of reaction upon his face. If she'd previously seen indifference in his eyes, they were now even lacking that. He seemed to care so very little, that he wasn't even indifferent. To be indifferent requires a small amount of thought, after all, and he appeared to not even be affording her that.

An icy rage raced through her veins, almost covering the pain, but not quite managing. After everything, Reid was just going back to feeling nothing for her? They had been perfect, in a terribly cruel and twisted way. Reid had challenged her and pushed her to new heights like no other. Even without the adoration in her heart, the loss of that would be grievous.

No matter what was showing upon his face, the redhead knew that she had meant something to Reid. If not now, than at least previously. Vivianna had met her match in him, but Reid had met his in her. There had been respect between them, from one master of manipulation to another. She wasn't just another dumb sheep, she wasn't. And in that moment, the Slytherin wanted nothing more than to remind Reid of that.

Completely ignoring that they weren't alone in the room, Vivianna slinked towards her fellow student, oddly reminiscent of the way that Strike stalked his prey. Stopping only when there was less than an inch between them, the redhead looked up through her lashes at the transfer student. She slowly lifted her left hand, placing it flat against his chest, right over the scar that she had given him. Lips curling up into a smirk, she leaned in slightly, intending to kiss Reid's lips. Realizing that she wouldn't know what to do with herself if he didn't kiss back, Vivianna instead pressed her lips to his cheek. Fingers curling, the witch dug her nails into sensitive scar tissue, as her lips lingered against his skin. Finally taking a step back, the redhead trailed her nails from his chest over one shoulder and down one bicep, where she squeezed softly.

The Slytherin was tempted to make some comment about how they'd need practice with this sort of thing if they were going to be married. In the end, she decided against it, aware that the sensations would make more of an impact than any words she'd be able to string together could. With one last soft smirk at Reid, Vivianna turned on her heels and left the room. If the Ministry needed anything else from her, they could send an owl.

One thing was for certain, Vivianna thought as adrenalin and illegal potion flowed through her body, Reid wouldn't be forgetting about her anytime soon. She wasn't going to let him.

“A thirty feet fall kills no one. Do try to tone down the melodrama.”

"No, but it would have put me out of commission for a while, you gormless twit."

Fickleness, was an all-too common human trait. It resided in the hearts of men and women with disturbing frequency- a decision made hotly in one moment overturned just as hastily in the next- like human wills were mere ships tossed from side to side in the overpowering tide of circumstance. Nothing was absolute. No fact was unchangeable. No mind made, incapable of being convinced otherwise.

Reid Dixon’s mind, came pretty darn close.

The word ‘close’ wouldn’t have been used before today. Before today, there would have been no doubting the fact that Reid’s opinions were unshakable- indifference assumed once, remained indifference forever.

But then again.........

What happened today......had never happened before.


”Nice try.”

“I know.”


In the aftermath of the official’s annoyed words, silence weighed down on the room, suffusing the air with a thickness that caught at the lungs. It was impossible to shake the feeling that something was about to happen.

Prickles broke- erumpent, scattered over the bare skin of his lower arms, sneaking up the back of his spine. His head swiveled, as if of its own accord, to the side. Nordic eyes, glancing through shadows cast over by ephemeral lashes, were inches away. Breath washed over his jaw, a barely-there tickle of warmth that caught maddeningly at the edges of his senses. Pale, colder fingers settled over his chest; the chill seeping in through the thin cotton material to the scarred skin over his heart.


“Now that that little dream-world has been disposed of…….

........get out.”


Emotions were not buttons, to be turned on and off as one pleased. There was a difference in deciding upon indifference, and actually feeling it. These things took time to set in. The mind took time to follow new patterns, to feel change. She wasn’t giving it time.

Silence. With every inch drawn forward, the air in the room decreased. Realisation flitted at the foggy, dim edges- realisation that those short, sharp, almost inaudible breaths filtering into the air of the room were his own. Shorter......shallower....with each passing second. Breathing, was insufficient. Breathing, wasn’t enough.

Grey eyes flitted downward, for a second, to moist, pink lips.


"Impressive, Varnes. Very impressive. Pity that such creativity dwells in such a....fragile, weak mind."

"One strike.....and pride crumbles.”


His mind put up a magnificent fight. Arranged all the facts before his eyes, cold and undeniable.

Vivianna Varnes was a sixteen-year old, Slytherin, female student of Hogwarts.

Witty. Obtuse. Sharp senses, dulled by tragedy. Stubborn.

Cared a lot about his opinion, pathetically enough.

At the same time, she exhibited the delightful tendency that most people acquainted with him possessed- that of demonising him. With good reason.

No hopes or wants or remotely positive feelings towards him, except perhaps the hope of a compliment. Thought it was a doomed hope, most likely. Expected nothing from him.



Something soft, and warm, and chapped grazed past his cheek. A light, fluttering sensation that hooked beneath his skin and pulled out the unease, in all its confusing glory, to flow in his veins like living, roaring blood.

And just like that, his mind gave up thinking.



....It broke you Reid.....shattered you....no matter how many times you say you don’t care..


One thought, only one, resounded in the blankness.

Wrong. He had been so very wrong. Never so much in his entire life. Wrong wrong wrong......

A part of him cursed his own eyes. His astoundingly blind eyes, yet incapable of being deceived. How much he would have liked to deceive himself; to convince himself that this was yet another meaningless ploy on her part to gain the upper hand. Maybe in a small way, it was.

The all-too pervasive, unavoidable touch lingering in his chest- whispered otherwise.

For something which wreaked so much havoc......it was over too fast. The sight of softly curving, smirking lips was stolen from his eyes, the hands withdrawn, the back turned, the presence gone......but phantom sensations still ghosted up his sides, his chest, his jaw....as if possessively staking claim on his skin, his senses. Mine. No one else’s. Only mine.  

The hand that had been raised from its side, as if reaching out too late to grasp for a neck no longer there, warm skin, a Slytherin’s pulse.....fell uselessly to the side. Reid watched his fingers flex in the empty air.

Then they straightened, became rigid. Curled into a fist that would leave half-moon impressions from nails, digging into a palm. Legs rose slowly, the chair creaking as it was pushed back, heels settled unsteadily on the stone floor as footsteps guided the emotionless body out of the office. Left foot before right....that was all his mind needed to remember.

Vivianna Dixon.

Looking at the marble countenance, the unflinching features, the storm-hued eyes of the boy that walked down the corridor....just another day in Hogwarts. No one would have guessed, no, not even he himself, that miles below the invincible skin, the scarred chest.....a useless piece of stone, had just started to life.  

X marks the spot.