things unseen in the fog

Damien stood at the Covered Bridge. Classes had ended early for him, the last one being Charms, his favourite. Georgia had headed off with a couple of girls and Damien had left her to walk on his own. He never fancied too much of a crowd of company, despite the fact that he would choose company over none anytime, even if it meant someone he did not like. At least that would force him out of his thoughts, and he could taunt whoever was available, if he did not like that person. They had to be young though. Damien had steered clear of older kids from other houses. He did not want to be stupid to face them in groups, alone. Unless he himself had his own. He had Kane and Augustine, who had proven to be pretty useful as sidekicks in minor tasks, but Damien had always doubted their abilities. He was, then, mostly on his own after classes.

After he had somehow decided on a place to stand at on the bridge, Damien leaned against it and allowed the view from the bridge to calm him. After a few moments of inactivity, which was a common feature of him, Damien reached into his bag for a book. Bringing it out, he turned the parchment pages slowly. He saw a page with a sketch of mother and him, when he was younger, and happier. Perhaps he could contemplate more now as his mind had matured, and the additional head space had been dedicated to analyses and self-discoveries that, in turn, had left him a little more disillusioned with the world. It could, also, probably be teenage angst. Damien did not think so, since that would make him sound ... susceptible to something, some other seemingly inevitable phase in life that he did not like to think him submitted to. But he was just thirteen, so despite his attempts to believe himself to be mature, he was not.

The boy flipped through his charmed sketchbook until he found an empty page. The charmed aspect of the book ensured that the pages never ran out, and he could carry it easily for its seeming thin-ness. Damien reached for the slate of graphite in the middle of the book and grasped it in his hand. Though a little bored, he began to sketch what he saw from the bridge. Nothing much, really. Just a lot of space. The fog had penetrated Hogwarts Castle, and it definitely made the scenary just a big block of blur. Absentmindedly, he scratched at the surface of the parchment with the block of graphie that he had been using to sketch with ever since he was seven.

Darius was walking along the top of the covered bridge, keeping to the center of the sloped surface to ensure he didn’t fall off. That was part of the allure of being on top of the bridge, of course – the potential danger of falling. Darius had a definite reckless streak when it came to activities he enjoyed, and walking along the top of the bridge was a frequent pastime of his when he didn’t have anywhere to be or anyone to annoy.

The Slytherin boy knew that his recklessness had a lot to do with the desire to feel something. He had realized long ago his lack of emotional responses and had needed to adapt his life accordingly. This had entailed a number of things: having to practice facial expressions so as to convey the appropriate emotion when necessary, watching muggle films to know which emotions were appropriate to certain situations. But also, his lack of visceral responses also left him hungry for the physical high that comes naturally from being really angry, or exceedingly happy, or even that elation that he had heard happens when you were in love (this one Darius had a difficult time believing, but people said it existed). So instead of getting those experiences from emotion, Darius tended to seek out situations just dangerous enough to get his adrenaline pumping, but not so dangerous that he could actually do himself any damage. Darius was number one in his own book, and he wasn’t actually looking to get himself killed.

On today’s foggy day, Darius’s sympathetic nervous system was in overdrive as he balanced from one foot to the other atop the covered bridge, only able to see a few feet in front of him. The day was mostly quiet – not many people out here between classes – but as he neared the center of the bridge, Darius heard footsteps coming from the castle-side. Interested, Darius lowered himself to the point where he could lay on the roof and peek over the edge of the bridge, and found himself looking at the back of some guy’s head. Whose head that would be, Darius wasn’t sure, but he was bored to the point of wanting to find out.

Without warning, Darius grabbed hold of the edge of the roof and swung his body through the opening, careful to project himself between the roof and the railing. He landed with a thud on the wooden planks of the bridge, back where normal people walked. Without waiting for an invitation, Darius strode over next to the boy and realized he recognized him as a fellow Slytherin, though definitely a few years younger. The boy had a sketchpad open in front of him, and Darius didn’t wait for permission to look at what the kid was drawing.

“I thought the point of being an artist was getting to draw naked women,” Darius said pointedly, leaning against the railing as he turned toward the dark-haired boy, his elbow propped on the edge of the rail, “Or have I been misinformed?”

No introduction, slight insult, and straight into ‘uncomfortable’ territory. That would be Darius.

There he was, minding his own business, thinking he was alone. Suddenly, though, a swift movement of something came at him. It was probably because of the fog that Damien thought it was a mad broom rushing at him. Soon enough, though, he noticed that it was a person. The covered bridge rocked a little from the impact of the intruder, and Damien scowled in slight irritation at what he thought to be the actions of a rude First Year. Perhaps he got the rude part right. But when he got a better look of the person, Damien realised, without difficulty, who he was.

Darius Flint. Damien knew who this older Slytherin was, for sure. Darius was notorious for being a douche bag. Damien had, however, never personally talked to the guy. It was all heresy, but too many times, clichés do stand. Like they say, without the slight of a spark, there would be no fire. And so, Damien was inclined to believe what he heard, even if it was a little.

Cautiously, Damien wanted to proceed to snap his sketchbook close. But it was too late. The other boy had time that was long enough to peer at what he had been looking at. Damien felt slight embarrassment that he did not seem to have met expectations. At least he gathered that from the tone of Darius' voice. The boy hated that he was caught off-guard. He wanted to be part of the power crowd, not a subject to be poked by them. Even if to get there meant that he had to conform to certain standards. He would bend and change things around once he got into it and placed himself in a safe enough position.

"Misinformed is too strong a word. Perhaps you meant to say that drawing naked women is your expertise. And I won't steal your thunder. I draw them better when they're clothed." Damien smirked, recovering a little from the shock he felt from Darius' sudden appearance, his interest a little piqued to find himself at such a conversation opportunity with an older Slytherin. Damien was such a whore for older students, whether he liked to admit that to himself or not. He wanted to impress, but chiefly, he wanted to be accepted to their ranks. He knew he was young, but that was the magic of it, if he could be one of them despite being younger.

"At other times, when there're no women to be drawn, I draw the spaces that they could possibly fill. Then perhaps when I see one who amuses me, I will draw her into the spaces of my book." He hoped that answer satisfied the question that, Damien suspected, was meant to elicit some humiliation. He had to stand his ground, even if he felt uncertain about matters. He knew it was the only way to befriend the older Slytherins. They were always going to be intimidating, but it was always a test. The time it took to pass that test, however, remained to be seen. Most people never even got the chance to be considered, let alone pass it.

Darius watched the younger boy’s emotions flicker across his face one by one, so obvious on his younger features. Most people didn’t learn to guard their facial expressions until they were older, somehow deluding themselves into believing the eyes were the only window to emotion (i.e., if I’m not looking at you, you can’t tell what I’m feeling). Darius, however, knew better. He may never have had to practice shielding his emotions – what emotions? – but he had plenty of experience observing them in others. He knew the first one that passed by the boy’s face was embarrassment, but after some quick thinking, he seemed to recover well enough. Or at least well enough to respond with a smirk, which only made Darius’ lips pull into a deeper Cheshire grin.

“I won’t be claiming any expertise in drawing naked women, mate,” Darius said, spreading his hands wide and palms down in a gesture that indicated the artistic talent belonged solely with the opposite party, “Because, trust me, if they’re naked around me, drawing pictures of them is about the last thing I’m going to be doing,” the older boy added with a waggle of his eyebrows.

At fifteen, Darius didn’t have nearly the sexual experience he was alluding to here, but he had done his fair share of snogging and feeling, or at least as much as girls would let him get away with. He had started filling out his form just a year or two ago, moving from lanky preteen to something that more resembled a creature with a Y chromosome. It had helped his situation considerably, both on the female front and the popularity circuit.

“But I suppose the whole troubled artist ploy would serve some purpose in getting the women naked in the first place,” Darius added, thinking immediately of another person he knew who used exactly that story with significant success.

“You should talk to Krum about that,” Darius added, almost as an afterthought, referring to Elijah Krum, whom any Slytherin worth their salt would recognize on his last name alone. Hell, most of Hogwarts knew Krum, either for his famous father or – more likely among the female population – for his womanizing.

“But as I haven’t really got the time to perfect my sense of perspective,” Darius said, gesturing to the sketchpad again to show he was referring to art, “I tend to rely on my dashing good looks and manly charm.” That statement, naturally, came accompanied by a smirk that bordered a little too close to arrogant to be taken completely as a joke.

“Name’s Darius,” the older boy said, sticking his hand out toward the younger boy, waiting for him to return the introduction. The kid didn’t seem too bad, maybe a potential ally, and getting a little more information couldn’t hurt. If he turned out to be boring or a pansy, Darius could always use whatever he learned from this conversation as ammunition against him. It was a win/win situation, and Darius always liked those odds.

Damien grinned at Darius' answer. He could not relate to it, the interactions with naked women. He was, after all, younger. Damien wished he could boast about it, but thought better. It was not going to be wise to fake something that he was sure the older boy could tell. He had to be careful. If he wanted to be offered some sort of alliance with an older Slytherin boy, he was going to have to look as if he knew his place, definitely not looking like too big of a challenge, and yet not too stupid to be thought a push-over.

Damien did amuse himself with what Darius was saying, until Elijah Krum cropped up. The boy frowned a little. Someone had told him that Mira Anderson was betrothed to Elijah Krum. It definitely should not come as a surprise, these marriage arrangements. It merely bothered Damien a little to know that the girl that he had grew to admire was already taken. Thankfully for Damien, his father never talked about marriage. Instead, the boy was told to have as many women as he wants. The problem was, Damien was not sure that he was going to be like his father, who could sleep with a woman and never acknowledge her ever again.

"Yes, perhaps I could take some lessons from Krum. But if it's only about women, perhaps the lessons would be insufficient. I find my passions lying in other ... interests. Perhaps some preparation before graduation to bigger things, for bigger effect ..." Damien let his voice trail. He wondered how much the acquaintance with this Slytherin boy would help him. He wanted more than a life of merely women, although why would he say no to them?

"Krum could do with other youngsters. Perhaps you would like to give me a few lessons of your own ... ?" Damien stopped himself before he went too far with the flattery. It would unsettle even himself a little too much. He eyed the hand that was offered to him, and smirked in satisfaction at what he deemed to be a respectable introduction, feeling like he had crossed the first hurdle. The boy offered his hand in return, reaching for a polite handshake. "d'Eath. Damien d'Eath. And I'm a Fourth Year." It was just the beginning of the school year, and perhaps both boys had no idea what was coming to Hogwarts Castle yet. Damien certainly did not.

"And I know who you are. Darius Flint. Made a good name for yourself, Darius."

Darius was never unhappy to see someone frowning at Elijah Krum’s name. His famous housemate was a bigger womanizer even than Darius was, and his penchant for charming the women of Hogwarts with his kittens and rainbows and… love really put a cramp in Darius’ style. Girls would usually follow along when Darius played his cat and mouse games with them, but Elijah always provided that ‘oh-so-distracting’ potential for ‘true love’. Why any girl thought they could live happily ever after with that long-haired playboy was beyond Darius’ comprehension, but then, so were a lot of things related to love.

So Darius found himself taking an even greater shine to the younger Slytherin boy as he discovered their mutual distaste for Elijah Krum, though Damien was much more politically correct about expressing his feelings on Krum than Darius would have been. In short, Damien had described Krum as boring outside the female department, which as far as Darius was concerned, he was. That kid was more effeminate than some of the women he had slept with; never a good thing.

“Krum’s a twat anyway,” Darius said off-handedly, turning to lean against the railing on both elbows as he dug into his shirt pocket for a pack of cigarettes. He tapped the box idly against the heel of his hand as Damien continued to muse aloud on Elijah, and Darius was just lighting when Damien made his proposal.

“Hmmm,” Darius hummed, holding the puff of pure nicotine in his mouth for a moment before blowing it out over the edge of the rail where it combined with the fog seamlessly. He was taking a moment to revel in the younger boy’s attention. Darius didn’t necessarily need the approval of others – he thought enough of himself that no part of his self-worth banked on others – but it was always reassuring to know that others had noticed how amazing he was. And Darius never turned down any form of attention, even the negative kind.

Darius turned back to the shorter boy as he introduced himself, shaking his hand with a firm grip while pressing the cigarette between his lips, which were curled into the characteristic smirk. Damien had just expressed that he already knew who Darius was, which was one of the older boy’s favorite compliments. If people he didn’t even know had learned to respect him on sight, then he was doing something right. They may not be doing the right thing – stupid, really to admire or trust, Darius – but there was no need to tell them that.

“Yes,” Darius said slowly, surveying Damien and decided that his gut instinct about this kid was right. He had potential. “I think I might be able to make some time in my schedule to give you an education. You don’t seem like a complete waste of time, so why not?” Darius added, his mind already setting up scenarios in which Damien might be useful. There were almost too many.

“But first, I’ve got to know what I’m working with,” Darius started, leaning backward against the railing with his elbows on the rail, cigarette dangling from the fingers of his left hand, “Hypothetical situation: you walk into the Leaky Cauldron, and there’s two girls sitting at a table. What’s your first move?”

Damien wanted the acquaintance of Athena Goyle, but Darius Flint was a good start. He did not expect to find a sort of ally in him regarding their opinions against Elijah Krum. It would seem that the charm of the famed womaniser had its own limits. Creation was fair, then. It was good to find a similarity with a new acquaintance. At least, if all else failed, there would still be something to feel bonded together about. Damien did not feel so optimistic about it though. Slytherin relationships were all meant to be exploited. He wanted them, but he knew that if he did not watch himself, he would be the lamb sent to the slaughterhouse instead. Damien watched as Darius lit up a cigarette, and then he turned his bag around to slip his sketchbook back into it. Swiftly, he turned it around again so that it was against his back again.

"I don't," Damien began in answer to Darius' question on his first move. "I need to know if they're worth the attention first. If she was worth more than a pretty face and a physical gratification, then I'll probably make the first move. If not, she'll have to make it. I don't fancy myself initiating unnecessary introductions and getting into troublesome expectations." Damien relaxed a little. After the initial surprise of meeting Darius, he settled into the foggy atmosphere, although his mind still worked to produce answers that would paint more than a thousand words for his new friend. First impressions were so important, after all.

Damien proceeded to lean back against the railing too. And then there was a sudden ruckus. Three younger boys were running, nearing where Damien and Darius stood at. Damien abhorred children, and these three were behaving exactly like annoying ones, although they could not be very much younger than Damien, who was not even in Sixth Year like Darius. Still, a blatant scowl appeared on the boy's face. The boys were still running and yelling. Given that the covered bridge was so long, it definitely allowed them a good run, and allowed Damien a good reason to believe them to be exactly the sort of people he would never want to be left alone in a room with. The boys were going to pass him soon, and Damien turned with anticipation to Darius. Sure, he did not know what to expect from Darius. But surely he could not pass up such an opportunity when stupid people sent themselves into his path. Unfortunately, the Slytherin boys were outnumbered. Still, numbers could determine nothing at times.

((I am sooooo sorry it took me so long to get back to this. It has been crazy with moving and starting a new academic year and everything. I will try to be more prompt in the future.))

“A smart answer… on the whole,” Darius said, giving his approval a loophole to make sure Damien didn’t think himself too smart too soon, “Generally, it’s good to know they won’t turn into stage five clingers before you make the approach, but in a pinch, a pretty face is enough to warrant an introduction. You can always find ways to shake them off later,” Darius said with a cocky smirk, taking another drag off his cigarette.

“But as I suspected, I am not working with absolutely nothing,” Darius added thoughtfully, looking away from Damien and out across the opposite edge of the bridge, giving thought to what else he might as Damien before he took him on as a subject. The kid was good looking, but not better looking than Darius, so he had that going for him. He would probably make a decent wing man, with a little training. His expectations of women seemed to be a bit high for Darius’ liking, but that might be from lack of experience. He’d lower them once he got a taste of what the female population really had to offer.

Just as Darius was pulling his cigarette away after a long pull, the sound of footsteps and adolescent screaming filled the once-quiet scene. Darius didn’t even bother turning his head to look at what was coming, because he was all too familiar with what he was about to be bombarded by: teenage boys that acted more like their shoe size than their age. It was such a trying experience, having to deal with immaturity and complete lack of intelligent thought, but it also created targets that were rarely smart enough to fight back. True, they were only ever briefly entertaining, and barely a challenge, but on a lazy day like today, Darius was up for any type of confrontation.

And showing off his attitude for Damien would help him gage whether or not the kid could handle hanging around him. He didn’t need anyone with a soft heart cramping his style.

Without so much as raising his eyes in the direction of the approaching ball of chaos, Darius pulled his wand from his jacket pocket and muttered quickly under his breath, pointing the wand at the center of the bridge. After a few seconds, the Slytherin boy lowered his wand with nothing having noticeably changed, but all that would change in three….two….one….

The three boys didn’t even know what hit them, but because they were all so set on running headlong down the bridge without watching for potential dangers (i.e. Darius Flint), they were unable to slow down fast enough to avoid the older boy’s trap. One moment they were running along the planks of the bridge, and the next, they were suspended upside down in mid-air, with nothing visibly holding them up, and nothing within reach to help them down.

“Oi, what the hell?” One of the boys was yelling, his robes hanging down and covering his face so his voice was muffled. Darius smirked at the kid’s struggles to clear his vision and see his attacker, twirling his wand idly in his hand.

“What’s going on?” Another of the boys asked, probably younger than the other two, his voice panicky. Oh how Darius loved the dulcet tones of discomfort he had induced.

“It’s your move,” Darius said, turning to look pointedly at Damien, who was standing beside him and had adopted the pose Darius had taken against the rail of the bridge. Now to see if he would adopt Darius’ mentality as well.

“They’re practically gift wrapped,” the older Slytherin intoned, passing a hand through his hair as he continued to smirk deeply at the plight of his most recent victims.

For a boy who lived for validation from older people, of course older ones deemed worthy to give it out, Damien was pleased even at the way he had answered Darius. He felt a little better about himself. Despite how the other boy had not completely credit his answer as perfect, he was already satisfied. After all, one could hardly expect to be perfect, ever. Damien smiled slightly, as if to himself. And then the intrusion of the immature boys had began. His anticipation to see what Darius would do to them seemed to promise rewards. Damien watched as the older boy took notice of them, only to treat them with indifference, until he saw a bit of wand peeking from under Darius' jacket. Damien smirked and directed his gaze expectantly at the foolish-looking trio, pressing his back against the support of the bridge as he waited to see what Darius had cast.

The result left Damien attempting to muffle his chuckles, watching the stupidity of the trio now, struggling to gain vision again while being hung upside down by some invisible force while their robes stubbornly clung to the front of their faces, as if working to aid the Slytherin boys in watching these toys suffer a little. For all of the animosity he profess for younger students, and of students from the other Houses, Damien was a novice in action. All talk, and no action. It was a good thing he had stayed out of sight, so far, from Slytherins who really went for the kill, or he might have been teased at for lacking the ability to allow his actions to align with his words. No, that would be an embarrassing fact to share with the others in his House.

Now, though, Damien was left with no choice. While he had expected Darius to do the job, while he basked in the power of Darius' presence, the older boy had called on him, as if wanting a show done by Damien, to prove his worth. Of course, Damien was going to have to do it. After setting himself up properly for Darius to see, he could not slip at this point. Trying to clear his mind of self-doubts, Damien stared at the three boys hanging upside-down, first. He smirked, for show. And then he reached for his wand. The boy muttered under his breath as soon as he directed his wand at the trio, and waited for something to happen. The boys, initially perturbed by their hanging positions, suddenly began to talk in panic tones.

"Huhhhh-owww, my knee!" One began, and then the others soon followed, as the bones in the legs of the three boys began to shirt, and reverse their directions, causing the points of their knees to be in a reverse direction. The boys began to scream and fought against the cloth clinging to their faces, more frantically, wanting to see who was there that had caused them this sudden attack. Damien smirked, wishing to see the result of what he had hexed instead. He turned to Darius and suggested, "perhaps we should let them run along ... now" He eyed the boys, and continued, "after all, why break their momentum?" In his mind, he could already see the three boys attempting to run away, only to look like confused creatures hindered by the abnormality of their knees now.

Darius hadn’t thought Damien would have it in him. The older boy had seen so many younger students try to prove themselves to their older counterparts, only to choke at the last minute. Damien, with his sketchbook and his boyish looks, didn’t seem the type to participate in Darius’ particular brand of fun. Observe it? Sure. Go along with it? Yeah. But be an active participant? Darius had doubted it, which is exactly why he put the younger Slytherin on the spot. Either Damien would prove himself worthy of Darius’ attention, or he would turn out to be yet another weak individual in this situation that Darius could use as a plaything. There was no downside.

Despite his doubts, Darius was pleasantly surprised when Damien smirked and pulled out his wand, not even flinching as he directed his wand at the students Darius had left hanging for him, and within a few seconds, their puppets were squirming and screeching in pain. It was music to Darius’ ears.

There’s nothing like the sound of screams in the morning… Darius thought to himself, smirking approvingly at his younger counterpart and watching as the knees of the younger students bent and twisted inhumanly. The boys were in a panic, and Darius felt that wave of pleasure roll over him at the sight of their struggle. It was the same feeling he got when he saw a trapped animal, or the twist of pain on the face of the man in the torture photos in the lowest dungeon. Sometimes Darius went there just to relieve the need to cause that kind of pain himself. It was always better in person, of course, but he couldn’t hope to blend in with society if he let himself give in to his inner desires… often.

“Yes, I think they would very much like to be free of their present condition,” Darius replied to Damien, his voice smooth and loud enough that the panicked boys would hear him even amidst their confusion, “And they’ve grown boring anyway. It’s time for Act III.”

And with a tug of his wand, Darius released the inverted levitation spell, causing the boys to come crashing to the ground, hitting the wooden boards of the bridge harder than they would have liked. The satisfying crack as their necks and shoulders collided with the ground made Darius’ smirk deepen, but not so much so as watching the boys try to get themselves as far away from Darius and Damien as they could manage. Damien had done an admirable job; the boys were confused, panicked, and crying by the time they figured out they would have to run backward in order to get away, and even as they scrambled out of earshot of the two Slytherin boys, Darius found he was still able to bask in the pleasure of their little fun.

“You’re not half bad, you know that?” Darius said, pulling out another cigarette and putting it to his lips before lighting it with the end of his wand, “You know how to take direction, and you have some legitimate gall. Unless you find some way to seriously F*** it up, I think you’re going to fit in quite well,” Darius said, getting about as close to a compliment as he ever gave. He was beginning to see all the benefits to having Damien around. Darius always loved an audience, because although torture was pleasing in and of itself, the public performance aspect turned things up a notch. And if nothing else, Damien could be the fall boy in case Darius ever got caught.

Yes, this was going to work out quite well.

“What do you say we get out of here?” Darius suggested, pushing himself off the railing and jerking a thumb toward the castle, “Those boys might decide to nark on us, and we don’t want to be around when a professor comes looking for the culprits. And besides, I’m hungry,” Darius added, already taking a few steps in the direction he had indicated, knowing full well that Damien would follow.