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slipping_away22 January 1997. Late afternoon.
The Slytherins lose, and Miles is furious. He hexes one of his teammates when he won't shut up about it and leaves him frozen on the floor of the common room. He doesn't expect to see Theo or expect the sudden, infuriated insight that accompanies the sight of the bloody slag.
His smile is thin as he greets Astoria and Daphne with a nod and a polite, "Good evening. I hate to impose, but I need to speak with your escort a moment."
"It wasn’t your fault," Astoria says fiercely. "Ravenclaw was definitely cheating. We would've won."
"I'm sure Miles doesn't need our sympathy," Daphne chides mildly. "And Theo is welcome to go wherever he wants." She presses a kiss to Theo's cheek. "We'll see you boys in the common room, then."
Miles watches Astoria and Daphne walk down the hall, furious but patient enough to wait. "Theo," he says, once they're mostly of sight, and then grabs the boy and jerks him into an empty classroom, quickly casting, "Incarcerous," before Theo can run. Miles shuts the door and casts an imperturbable charm on the room before he approaches Theo, straddling Theo's hips and pressing the tip of his wand beneath Theo's chin. "It was you."
Theo tries to gather his thoughts, still stunned by the impact of falling to the floor. He tests the ropes, bound tightly around his torso, his hands useless at his sides. He's unable to get to his wand. Then Miles straddles him, and Theo understands what kind of danger he's in. He licks his lips, feeling a flush creep up his neck. "It's nice to know your rampant paranoia hasn't faded."
Miles slaps the floor next to Theo's head, fingers bunching from the temptation to smack that bloody look off of Theo's face. "You hexed me, you bloody twat."
Theo doesn't flinch at the sound of Miles' hand against the floor. "Now who's talking baseless accusations, Miles?"
Miles narrows his eyes, abruptly gripping Theo's throat as he bends down, forcing Theo to meet his eyes. "I don't lose, Theo," he says, voice soft and dangerous as he delivers the warning. The rest can be understood. He pushes off of Theo and stands, straightening the cuffs of his shirt and smoothing the wrinkles out of his trousers.
Theo doesn't know what his expression is as he looks at Miles — all he knows is that he's angry and frustrated and a little turned on. "Apparently, you do."
Miles nearly kicks Theo in his frustration, and he's even more infuriated by the violent urge. "You," he says, maintaining an even, cold tone, "have made a terrible mistake." Miles crouches next to Theo and fists a hand into Theo's hair, taking a mean pleasure in hurting Theo this way, forcing Theo to look at him. "I'm going to make sure you regret your stupidity."
"Of course," Theo answers, just as coldly. "Funny how it's never occurred to you that you're the one making the mistake."
Miles eyes flash, his mouth slanting into a furious frown as he drops to his knees, fingers still caught tight in Theo's hair. "I left you alone, and you. You—" Miles fists his other hand into Theo's robes, jerking on the fabric. "You spoiled fucking slag. You made me lose the bloody game."
"You didn't lose the game," Theo answers breathlessly. "Braddock did."
"Slytherin lost!" Miles shouts, slamming Theo to the floor. He flattens his palm against Theo's chest and inhales a slow, controlled breath to calm himself, because he wants to slam Theo against the floor again, absolutely bloody hurt him. "You cost us the game, Theo."
"Why are you so willing to believe that I'm the one who did it?" Theo asks, his eyes bright. "You think you're so important to me that I'd go out of my way to ruin you?"
Miles kneels there, stunned, his fingers half curled in Theo's robes. "Am I?" His voice is soft, cold, as he bends, at the same time tugging Theo closer by his robes. "Because you've made it quite clear that I am." He claims Theo's mouth, makes the kiss punishing and cruel and brutal because he's still furious from the loss, is still quite certain, despite Theo's protests, that it was him who cast the hex.
Theo fights against the kiss, biting at Miles' mouth, and this is nothing so much as a clash of teeth. Theo turns his head to the side, already tasting copper and not knowing if it's his blood or Miles', and he struggles against the ropes Miles enchanted, wanting nothing more than to get away and lick his wounds in peace.
Miles stares down at Theo, at the blood beaded bright on Theo's torn lips. His own mouth aches, but he can't imagine that it looks as shredded as Theo's is. He curls his fingers around Theo's cheek and turns Theo's head, stroking his thumb across Theo's lips. "Clearly," he says, pressing the tip of his wand to Theo's mouth, "I'm very important." He heals Theo, frees him from the magical ropes, and walks out, healing himself as he heads toward the dungeons and to his room.
Theo takes a deep, shaking breath, and curls up, head on his knees as he trembles. He grabs his wand just for the comfort of feeling the wood between his fingers, and he slams his other fist down against the stone floor. It stops him from crying, so he does it again and again until his hand hurts enough to stop any stray tears.
The Slytherins lose, and Miles is furious. He hexes one of his teammates when he won't shut up about it and leaves him frozen on the floor of the common room. He doesn't expect to see Theo or expect the sudden, infuriated insight that accompanies the sight of the bloody slag.
His smile is thin as he greets Astoria and Daphne with a nod and a polite, "Good evening. I hate to impose, but I need to speak with your escort a moment."
"It wasn’t your fault," Astoria says fiercely. "Ravenclaw was definitely cheating. We would've won."
"I'm sure Miles doesn't need our sympathy," Daphne chides mildly. "And Theo is welcome to go wherever he wants." She presses a kiss to Theo's cheek. "We'll see you boys in the common room, then."
Miles watches Astoria and Daphne walk down the hall, furious but patient enough to wait. "Theo," he says, once they're mostly of sight, and then grabs the boy and jerks him into an empty classroom, quickly casting, "Incarcerous," before Theo can run. Miles shuts the door and casts an imperturbable charm on the room before he approaches Theo, straddling Theo's hips and pressing the tip of his wand beneath Theo's chin. "It was you."
Theo tries to gather his thoughts, still stunned by the impact of falling to the floor. He tests the ropes, bound tightly around his torso, his hands useless at his sides. He's unable to get to his wand. Then Miles straddles him, and Theo understands what kind of danger he's in. He licks his lips, feeling a flush creep up his neck. "It's nice to know your rampant paranoia hasn't faded."
Miles slaps the floor next to Theo's head, fingers bunching from the temptation to smack that bloody look off of Theo's face. "You hexed me, you bloody twat."
Theo doesn't flinch at the sound of Miles' hand against the floor. "Now who's talking baseless accusations, Miles?"
Miles narrows his eyes, abruptly gripping Theo's throat as he bends down, forcing Theo to meet his eyes. "I don't lose, Theo," he says, voice soft and dangerous as he delivers the warning. The rest can be understood. He pushes off of Theo and stands, straightening the cuffs of his shirt and smoothing the wrinkles out of his trousers.
Theo doesn't know what his expression is as he looks at Miles — all he knows is that he's angry and frustrated and a little turned on. "Apparently, you do."
Miles nearly kicks Theo in his frustration, and he's even more infuriated by the violent urge. "You," he says, maintaining an even, cold tone, "have made a terrible mistake." Miles crouches next to Theo and fists a hand into Theo's hair, taking a mean pleasure in hurting Theo this way, forcing Theo to look at him. "I'm going to make sure you regret your stupidity."
"Of course," Theo answers, just as coldly. "Funny how it's never occurred to you that you're the one making the mistake."
Miles eyes flash, his mouth slanting into a furious frown as he drops to his knees, fingers still caught tight in Theo's hair. "I left you alone, and you. You—" Miles fists his other hand into Theo's robes, jerking on the fabric. "You spoiled fucking slag. You made me lose the bloody game."
"You didn't lose the game," Theo answers breathlessly. "Braddock did."
"Slytherin lost!" Miles shouts, slamming Theo to the floor. He flattens his palm against Theo's chest and inhales a slow, controlled breath to calm himself, because he wants to slam Theo against the floor again, absolutely bloody hurt him. "You cost us the game, Theo."
"Why are you so willing to believe that I'm the one who did it?" Theo asks, his eyes bright. "You think you're so important to me that I'd go out of my way to ruin you?"
Miles kneels there, stunned, his fingers half curled in Theo's robes. "Am I?" His voice is soft, cold, as he bends, at the same time tugging Theo closer by his robes. "Because you've made it quite clear that I am." He claims Theo's mouth, makes the kiss punishing and cruel and brutal because he's still furious from the loss, is still quite certain, despite Theo's protests, that it was him who cast the hex.
Theo fights against the kiss, biting at Miles' mouth, and this is nothing so much as a clash of teeth. Theo turns his head to the side, already tasting copper and not knowing if it's his blood or Miles', and he struggles against the ropes Miles enchanted, wanting nothing more than to get away and lick his wounds in peace.
Miles stares down at Theo, at the blood beaded bright on Theo's torn lips. His own mouth aches, but he can't imagine that it looks as shredded as Theo's is. He curls his fingers around Theo's cheek and turns Theo's head, stroking his thumb across Theo's lips. "Clearly," he says, pressing the tip of his wand to Theo's mouth, "I'm very important." He heals Theo, frees him from the magical ropes, and walks out, healing himself as he heads toward the dungeons and to his room.
Theo takes a deep, shaking breath, and curls up, head on his knees as he trembles. He grabs his wand just for the comfort of feeling the wood between his fingers, and he slams his other fist down against the stone floor. It stops him from crying, so he does it again and again until his hand hurts enough to stop any stray tears.