Black Eyes & Fun Guys

If he was irritated (and she just had to believe he was) he was doing his damndest not to show it. Lestrange was all business, fussing with his cloak and wand. She still didn’t believe he was going to do it, but she smirked, twirled her wand between her fingers, and stuck it into the pocket in her knapsack she had magicked onto the fabric. God knew after shelling out most of her savings for a new broom (a broom still three generations older than the worst broom on the Slytherin team) that she would not be able to afford replacing her wand.

But robes - please. Jack was a walking Uniform Infraction. In the stead of robes was her signature military jacket, dark jeans and a loose jersey tee framing her lean body of muscle, providing enough movement to roundhouse kick Matt back to detention.

He didn’t rise to the taunt, and his question actually threw her off guard. It wasn’t a sensation she was used to. If Jack had one skill, it was rolling with the punches (pun intended and ever appropriate.) People didn’t surprise her because she was usually the one delivering the shock factor.

She tilted her head. “Why? I promise to keep hair off limits, if you’re worried about me de-fluffing what you got going on there.” She, of course, had no place to speak, her hair often fluffing three to four inches by the end of the day. Constant running and flying without ever doing more than brushing would do that. “Some people change. It’s some poetic justice for my last year of school.” Irony traces her words, her refusal to take anyone seriously steepening to downright sarcasm.

"First of all," he began, "Nothing de-fluffs my hair. Believe me, I've tried."

Now, that was only partly true. If Jack so wanted to she could easily shave his head in his sleep. And a good ol' fashioned cosmetic charm would likely solve many of his problems. However, he was really bad at cosmetic charms. Though, it seems like he could take a lesson from Jack when it came to the cosmetics of the wizarding world. He knew there were muggle items that could change hair colour; but her's looked very natural.

"Okay, people change but you don't."

He dropped his stance and began to walk towards her, trying to look as nonthreatening as possible. This was a crucial moment; he had already made his decision but she hadn't. There was still a chance one of them would leave this interaction with a black eye or possibly worse. Matt wasn't aiming for her face at the dueling club - everything just got blury and he hit something.

"Seven years. I've known you for seven long years and you've never done anything different." he continued to advance on her, his arms down and an inquisitive look on his face. He was probably speaking with a little too much of an antagonistic tone but he wasn't entirely sure he was trying to be nice. "All these years you've sat in the same seat in detention. F*ck, Jack, people avoid that seat even when you're not there. You are annoying, a pain in my ass, but you are a consistent and predictable pain in my ass."

"So, I'll ask you again. This time, don't try kidding yourself with this 'f*ck the man' attitude you spout. Why did you dye your hair?"

Jack briefly considered if it would be worth it to shave his head. She figured that would definitely cross a line, take what was supposed to be another one of her "friendly rivalries" and transform it into an outright animosity. Jack wasn't sure he deserved that yet. But she suspected he could get there easily. She didn't try to hold anyone's parentage against them - hell, she certainly didn't want hers to reflect at all on her. But she had to wonder. If only for protection. It wasn't so long ago that Matt's family was hunting and slaughtering people like her.

So, yeah, maybe it did feel good to give him a punch to the face. Just in case he went all murder-y later.

She rolled her eyes at his comment. Of course she changed. She didn't look anything like the scrawny, drowned pup of a person she was freshman year. She... okay, most of the rest was the same.

He didn't let up. Despite his stance, despite the lack of anger, she felt like the fight had already begun, and she squinted her eyes at him. Her body betrayed her as her heartbeat quickened, pounding in her ears. Not quite worry, not quite anger, but some bastard child of them both. She gritted her teeth as he dialed up the intensity, invading her space, assuming he could demand anything of her. She didn't think of herself as above anyone else, but she sure as hell didn't think anyone had the right to assume they were above her.

"First off," she said, "Unpredictable is my middle name. Second off, why does it even matter? Why does anyone do anything? I wanted to, I felt like it, I joined a heaby metal band - what does it matter? Are you gonna throw a punch or not?"

"Yes, that's exactly it!" he flung his arms in the air in exasperation.


He brought them back down and ran them through his still fluffy but damp hair. The rain hadn't picked up and turned into a downpour yet, thankfully. He knew, however, that she was aware of the deeper meaning behind his words. It was becoming increasingly obvious he wasn't going to leave this encounter without some new injury at the hands of Jack Dyllan.

"You want a fight. You always want a fight. And here I thought I wanted a fight too but no. I simply wanted to get back at you for seven years of the same sh*t every day."

He wasn't going to give it to her. There was too much satisfaction in denying her the satisfaction of a fair fight. He knew Jack had a conscience and he had a feeling that when he left with another black eye she would feel worse than him in the end. But how exactly could he take it to the next level and instigate the punch?

"You say you've changed but I see no difference between when you were sitting in detention in our first year or in that classroom back there!" he pointed back up to the castle.

"This is exactly what I expect from people like you!"

As those words left his mouth it suddenly occurred to him what he'd said without context.

He flailed and she drew her chin back, blinking at him in surprise. Had she broken him somehow? Had her refusal to throw the first punch really shaken him? With the backdrop of the storm behind him, clouds lighting up as the heavens threatened to open up, he almost looked crazed. He would have almost looked intimidating if his hair hadn't been so tall.

This was uncharted territory. He was actually upset about something. That wasn't her motive, she didn't want people actually upset, she just liked to see them wind up. This wasn't fun if he was mad. Like actually mad, not just irritated.

"Please, it's been a joy for seven years! I make this school fun!" her voice was a mix of irony, sarcasm, and... the edge of something else. Almost like she was trying to convince herself. Because that was the point of it all, right? The jokes, the pranks, the detentions. It was funny.

But this... This wasn't funny.

"People... like... me?" she asked, her jaw tightening, barely opening enough to get the words out. She took a step towards him, her biceps clenching as she tilted her head, locking eyes with him. "What kind of people am I like, huh, Lestrange? Do you mean assholes, or you going fullstop and saying muggleborns then?"

There have been several moments in his life where Matt realized he had made a mistake. Many of those moments were accompanied by an angry grandmother about to throw him in his room. But that was life, was it not? Making mistakes and learning from them? This, however, was a mistake that he didn't see coming because, well he often forgot that Jack was a muggleborn and he was, well, a Lestrange.

So he had some choices to make. Was he going to let his anger take control and instigate further or was he going to de-escalate the situation? At this point both options were ugly because backtracking never works especially when it comes to assholes. However, he decided to pick the unintentional third option and see where his keen interest in her personal philosophy would take them.

He matched her advance.

"You know that self righteous attitude about purity has gotten you into a lot of trouble before, Dyllan." his eyes not wavering from hers. "You need to step down a peg and realize that not every attack on your character is about your parentage." he moved closer.

"You put up a tough exterior but I know what's down there deep inside of you." he advanced again

"You're a pathetic, no-good, hand me down witch."

He stepped up and she felt power radiating in her arms, that same sensations she felt right before she hit a Bludger that she knew was going to properly hit its mark. She could see the Bludger flying, see it smash, all before it did. And she could see it now. Matt's chin lifting. Because while she was here for a good time, she wasn't here for this shit.

"Not every one is, but there's been plenty," she growled. What the hell would he know about it anyway. Relying on good ol' mum and dad to keep him sheltered from it all, no consequences after all the, y'know, murders.

He stepped closer but she didn't. Not because she was scared. But because, right now, she had reach.

That was it.

Those words did it.

She was flying forward, taking him down by the middle, and suddenly she was on top of him, and aimed for the mouth. Thee that offends, and all.

"Hey, hey, hey!"

She didn't stop. She was blocking his arms and trying to land more hits, when (for the now third time this week) she was hauled off her feet by the neck, as Professor Lupin yanked her away, throwing his arms up between the two of them. "That's quite enough! Right. Come on. My office."

It dawned to him as they'd marched up to Professor Lupin's office how damp he and Jack had gotten. They also had the added bonus of being muddy and grassy. His mouth hurt too and he could taste blood. He was expecting another shiner but to be honest he was much happier with the busted lip. He could barely see out one of his eyes so losing both would not have been ideal. As the adrenaline wore off a wave of regret came washing over him. This regret of course was mostly regret for letting the two of them get caught. Though, perhaps he did feel a pinch of guilt for insulting her - she hadn't quite gone that far.

He looked over at her and she did not seem pleased either. Professor Lupin didn't say a word the entire time.

The office was warm.

The pair of them were seated in front of the Professors desk in hard wooden chairs. This was certainly a predicament he found himself in, naturally he hadn't been fighting and he knew Jack was honest. So he'd likely be let off the hook for that but he still had to face something of a reaming for the earlier fight. Head boys didn't get into fights with other students but Matt was the conventional head boy. He was honestly shaken the day he returned to school and his head of house told him. It felt good. This didn't.

He looked up at Professor Lupin who was simply standing there looking at the two of them from behind the desk.

Teddy had no idea what to do with these two, and was truly amazed at their determination to draw blood. He had heard of their fight, of course, as fights were often discussed in the Staff Lounge. They didn't happen very often, oddly enough. Curfews were broken, things stolen, contraband smuggled. Sure, there were a few rogue hexes. But actually hitting, with fists. It just wasn't something that young wizards and witches often resorted to, they were usually so eager to get their share of magic out of their system. It made sense that Dyllan had that urge, but Lestrange... where did he ever develop a sense to fight?

He didn't speak, just moving with determination. He glanced back once - Jack looked distant, faraway, and was breathing a little shallowly. He would have chalked it up t the fight but he knew the girl was a (rather good) Quidditch player. No way she was that winded. Especially not so winded she couldn't run her mouth. Which was she usually would have done.

Something was very wrong.

He beckoned them in and silently gestured they sit. He closed the door, circled the desk, and stared down at the two of them. "I know I'm not your Head of House. It'd be very easy, and within my own interest, to just take points away and give you a detention. But I don't want to just... punish you. I want to know why this is happening. So who's going to tell me." He looked between the two of them, and felt as though Jack were looking past him, so he looked towards Lestrange. "Mr. Lestrange? Why are you two fighting?"

Lestrange...

Jack was uncharacteristically silent throughout this entire process and it was shaking him up a bit. As professor Lupin prompted Matt he looked over to Jack expecting to see her fierce gaze. But she wasn't even looking at Professor Lupin, she looked far away. Had he really gotten to her?

Lestrange...

He turned to professor Lupin, mouth open no words coming out. What could he even say at this point? Things had gotten to a point he was genuinely afraid of. He knew exactly what he wanted to say earlier and he outright said them. Those words were not him. He wasn't sure where those words came from. Whatever that place was he didn't like it.

"Well," he rubbed his chin and felt his lip; it had a heartbeat "Jack and I, we had just gotten out of detention and..." he trailed off looking back over at her expecting some sort of response from her, anything really. "Well in my experience detention doesn't do much for deterring behaviour and then we went down to the grounds and had a repeat offense."

Yes, that was okay to say. It was vague and didn't cover the half of what had just occurred. But he wasn't sure he wanted to let on how upset he was with himself and with Jack for two very different reasons. This is why he kept to himself. This is why he didn't talk much. He was a man of few words but he placed power behind those words. Perhaps he had used those powers for evil. Maybe he really was a

Lestrange...

"I instigated, professor." he said looking back up at professor Lupin. He couldn't take back the day but he wouldn't make matters worse.