[ i don't give a damn 'bout my bad reputation ]

[Rome Kingston]

It was an…interesting day, to say the least. Herbology was a riot, to use the term sarcastically. The idiot Rosier twins were at peak form, throwing hexes and shit every which way -- Ares even came out at one point. That was the highlight, if you asked Rome. Anything involving Ares was often a highlight of his day. It was rather amusing, having gotten there late and not getting in trouble with the teacher. He could almost stand the Rosier twins because of it. Almost.

Rome, however, was tired. He wasn’t used to having classes or even using his magical abilities to such extent, even though it was only the second day of classes. Although it was quite amazing to be able to use his wand again, it still took a lot out of him; more so than he expected. But…he didn’t feel like going into the Slytherin dormitory, not yet. He’d have to deal with the other idiots in his year, and he really didn’t feel like doing that. So he just leaned against the wall in the Courtyard, watching the sun in the sky.

There wasn’t anything for him to do. He could go and work on homework (damn the teacher for assigning homework) or he could just stay in the courtyard and watch people skitter around, talking with each other and exchanging stories from the day. He drummed his fingers on his leg, yawning. Was there going to be anyone interesting passing his way?

He found himself thinking about Lukis, imagining what would happen if he was the one who passed by. He tensed significantly -- he’d probably end up hexing him or doing something to hurt him. He hated Lukis so much -- the idiot pureblood, thinking that he’s better than anyone.

Before he knew what he was doing, he pointed his wand at some random girl was passing, uttering a hex under his breath. Almost immediately, the hex shot out from his wand and hit her, causing her to fall to the ground roughly. He snickered, watching the girl stand up with the help of her friends and start screaming at him.

”Oh, shove off,” he said to her, shaking his head. ”What, did I make you get yourself dirty? A little dirt never hurt anyone, bitch.” The girl shook her head, shot a few choice words at him, and stalked off with the rest of her friends. Rome snickered again, shaking his head. Idiots, the lot of them.

[Achille Desmarais]

Achille sat in an empty classroom, trying to focus on his schoolwork. There was only one thing on his mind at the moment, the only thing that would relieve him of his illness, and even that would only be momentary. He looked down at the parchment he had been leaning over for a while now, and realized that as it was he would not be able to make any real progress. Maybe I need some fresh air. The closest place would be the courtyard.

It was dizzying, making his way down the labyrinth of Hogwarts hallways. He was managing to keep from showing too much of his withdrawal, but he definitely felt it. At the moment, it was as if there was a nail being driven into his brain. Seulement un jour, he thought, hoping that his plan would come through, and his relief would arrive tomorrow under a veil of invisibility.

As he made it out into the courtyard, he glanced around at the pocketfuls of students sitting around, or going back and forth. Well, he supposed, I guess I have to choose between solitude and fresh air. He tried to walk a circuit around the area to find a place that would be quieter for him, maybe he would be able to feel better if he got to an uninhabited corner.

As he passed through one section of the yard, he heard a some shouting several meters to his left. With his head pounding, it felt as if the yelling were inside his head. He lifted up his eyes from the path he was walking and located the source. Several girls, yelling at... He couldn't make out the person. Whoever it was, Achille was extremely angry with them for making his lessening headache much worse. He moved closer and realized. Of course. Rome. Achille watched Rome as he spat out his words at the girls. Achille's eyes narrowed. What a bloody fool.

He pulled his wand out and whispered a spell, causing Rome's voice to change sounds for a second or two. The laughter that would have been desecrating the courtyard with its obnoxiousness instead made the sounds of a bell, a low resonant note that was full of beauty and clarity. Achille's frown softened into a more pleasant look. He hadn't noticed, but the the few people between he and Rome had cleared, and the boy was looking right at Achille. Achille's frown deepened once more, and his headache and vertigo came back all at once, causing him to wince visibly, and take a step back, almost losing his balance.

[Wolven Prince]

Wolven growled softly in fury, the noise of the common room was so loud and so annoying that he could do nothing to block it out. Many of his housemates ranging from first years to seventh years were playing with those silly exploding cards, and he didn’t know nor care for the name of the silly childish game. He was trying to finish his essay he had for Transfigurations with turning a cockatoo into a mask. He also had several other assignments to finish before the day was done, before the night approached, before he’d go off onto the grounds to be alone and get away from all this horrible madness that his housemates lived in.

Wolven Wolfsbane Prince hadn’t been invited to the party that had happened on the first night back to Hogwarts, but hell it was in his house, so they couldn’t say a damn thing about him being there, unless they had the guts to kick him out of his own house… which they didn’t and if they had then… well he would hexed their drunken asses into the next millennia and then would have left them there to suffer. The only reason he had come down there in the first place was to swipe two bottles of firewhiskey for himself, which had and after he had he went back to his dorm room and hid them from his roommates, and left after that, leaving to go outside and away from the annoyingness of the party.

The werewolf shook his head, as another card exploded, and screams, groans and cheers filled the common room. He flipped through his book and whispered to the charmed spell quill, and watched as it wrote down what he said. He ran a hand through his hair, and leaned back in his chair, leaning his head back to glare at the group of students, who took no notice of the annoyed Gryffindor loner. That was until two cards exploded right near both his ears, sending him reeling, making the chair fall over and him smash his head against the common room floor. Muted laughter filled the room. Wolven got up to his feet, wand already being pulled out of it’s hiding place. The elm wand, almost seemed to burn his scarred hand. “WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT FOR!!!!” He shouted in rage, his slate blue eyes were blazing in rage, anger and displeasure, as his pupils had turned into slits, which were hidden by his bangs. His rage increased ten-fold as laughter was all he received as an answer. Wolven growled as he held his wand in his teeth and slammed his book shut, picked up his paper assignments and book, before placing them in his black shoulder-bag, before he stormed off out of the common room, hissing the password and stomping away without a backward glance at the Fat Lady, his bag slung over his shoulder, his wand back in the folds of his Gryffindor robes, his hands shaking with rage as he stormed down corridor.

Once Wolven had gotten to the courtyard he was able to hear normally again. He muttered under his breath about destroying those stupid cards. He walked into the courtyard, intent on getting some more of his homework completed before going back to the noise-y common room that housed rowdy Gryffindor males of all ages, who all had succeeded in pissing off their lonerish rogue lion. He didn’t pause at the strange stares that weren’t for once directed at him, but at the two people standing there, looking at each other. A Ravenclaw and a Slytherin, no doubt, he could tell from their robes, but he wasn’t really fond of either of them. They were both younger students. The Ravenclaw he didn’t mind so much, the Slytherin on the other hand was a different story. The Slytherin was Rome Kingston, a 5th year whom he couldn’t stand much at all. The Ravenclaw, Achille Desmarais, a 4th year whom he could stand, because the kid was quiet and didn’t bug him.

The werewolf watched for a moment or two before he decided to walk into the path of the two younger years and stopped between them, glancing at one to the other. “You two look like idiots, standing there staring at each other.” Wolven commented rudely, as he stepped out of their path and turned around to face both of them, ready to counteract any spells that were thrown his way.

[Rome Kingston]

It wasn’t long before Rome noticed the change in his voice. What the fuck was going on? He uttered a low growl, knowing that it had to have been some sort of charm cast by someone who actually gave a damn about the girls that he had messed aroung with. An odd charm, though -- why go for a tone change, rather than something that could actually harm him or make him embarrass himself; or, at least, embarrass himself in a more significant way.

And then he saw Achille, and his mouth twisted into a smirk. Yes, that had to be the person who cast the spell at him; he watched, amused, as he stepped backwards. If he didn’t know better, he would have thought that he did that in fear. It made him laugh again, still the soft bell sound. He smirked at Achille a bit wider, shaking his head.

”Well, well, well,” he said, taking a step forward. ”I’m glad I didn’t miss you, cutie.” He winked at Achille. ”I was afraid I had, and, well. Let’s just say it would have made my day a little less bright than it could have been.” He didn’t step any closer though. ”You look pained. What happened to you?” He shook his head, taking another step closer.

And then Wolven remarked on the situation, causing him to laugh once more. A Ravenclaw and a Gryffindor. A fourth and a sixth year. All they needed was a Hufflepuff seventh year and they’d have a complete set. He shook his head, turning towards Wolven with a smirk.

”Oh, be still by beating heart,” he said, looking at both Wolven and Achille. ”However will I choose between these lovely two boys?” He looked the both up and down for a moment before shaking his head. ”I say we put aside our differences and just come together.” Oh, double entendres, how Rome loved them.

He held his wand at his side, keeping a few protective spells in mind to cast a moment’s notice. If he had said that with a muggle girl, she would have slapped him. If he had said it to a muggle guy, he would have punched him. But, since this was a school for witches and wizards, he was most likely going to get a bunch of hexes shot at him or something of the sort.

But it was totally worth it, if you asked him.

[Achille Desmarais]

Achille was not enjoying himself. As Rome flirtatiously brought himself closer to Achille, he fixed on him a stare. He didn't open his mouth. First of all, he didn't want to dignify Rome with an answer, and second of all, he couldn't open his mouth without unclenching his teeth, which were set in order to prevent him from showing any sign of pain other than his original flinching.

As Wolven approached, making a blanket condescending statement, Achille became more annoyed, and he was tempted to hex him, but it required all of his focus to keep from wincing in pain. Instead, he kept his gaze on Rome, completely ignoring Wolven, and not speaking at all.

When Rome made his rude and blithe comment, Achille couldn't take it anymore. He honestly didn't care about his headache or nausea and decided to let loose with some quick work. He turned his back on the two, and took several steps away from them. He then turned his head back and silently willed some bright blue sparks from his wand toward Rome, but not being particularly careful to avoid Wolven. They jetted quickly from the wand, and spread out more as they neared the target. Beautiful, simple, effective. He quickly turned back around to face the opposite direction, in order to give an impression of confidence, while actually concealing the fact that he was about to collapse or vomit. He wasn't sure which would come first, but it was coming. Hopefully, his foolish and bold response would distract them from noticing how ailing he appeared.

[Wolven Prince]

Wolven’s eyes flared, alight with fury, those slitted-pupils in the center of his slate blue iris, which were covered by his bangs blazed behind his fringe. Rome was so not the person he should be dealing with his in his angered state. Fury and anger controlling his thoughts and actions, were anything but good. Just like the werewolf he transformed into once a month. He was not a great person to be around when around in a rage. It only fueled the rumors that he was a werewolf, a mindless beast who was wild and uncontrollable. Why in the hell couldn’t he act more like his hero, Remus Lupin?!... Simple because he was a temperamental animal, with a short-temper with an even shorter fuse and nothing was going to change that (Which was why he stayed away from others, it was the only way to keep calm and in control). So no he couldn't be like the calm, kind, and strong-willed Remus Lupin, the only other werewolf to attend Hogwarts besides him, Wolven Wolfsbane Prince.

A threatening growl escaped the werewolf’s lips, which were pulling back into an angry snarl. He flung his book-bag away, to the side with an angry and careless flick of his wrist. His wand was still in his robe sleeve, the 16 year old was bristling dangerously, but at least he still had enough common sense to take several steps back as those blue sparks flew from the Ravenclaw’s wand toward Rome, the intended target no less. He shot a heated glare at the Ravenclaw boy's back, before turning his rage-filled glare on Rome.

“Rome… You better back the hell off! I'm warning you!” Wolven growled out lowly, forcing himself to speak or else he would simply continue to growl at the other. His voice was threatening and deadly, and he meant every word that came from his mouth. The werewolf was shaking in rage and anger, he was oh-so close to snapping and just screwing everything and lunging for the Slytherin and strangling him to death.

[Rome Kingston]

Oh, how much fun Rome was having! He knew it would probably end up with him in the Hospital Wing or him being lectured or some shit like that, but he didn’t give a damn, to be honest. His day was brightening already; he loved torturing people, flirting with them when they obviously don’t want to be flirted with. He loved to incite them, to see when they snap -- then, the next day, do the exact same thing. It was a sort of game with him; see how fast he could get the other to snap, and each day was a new chance to break the previous record.

Considering, Achille was a bit of a let-down; Rome had expected a couple of more flirtatious comments at him before he finally cast a hex -- or whatever that was -- at him. Either there was something wrong with Achille, making him a bit easier to annoy, or his “come together” joke had more of an impact than he expected. Whatever way it was, it caught him off guard; he barely had time to mutter ”Protego” under his breath before the spell hit him.

The shield put in place by his spell wasn’t too strong, so a bit of power from the spell that Achille shot his way still diffused through, causing Rome to wince and grind his teeth. Once the spell was done, he lowered the shield, returning to his usual smirk. ”Mr. Desmarais, I was expecting you to hold on for a bit longer,” he said, shaking his head. ”Is there something wrong, or did you just feel that strongly about my joke?”


He finally looked at Wolven, chuckling. ”Oh, Wolven. You know, your temper’s awfully short,” he remarked, making a tsking sound. ”You should work on that. Never know when you might just lash out at someone -- the wrong person, even!” He shook his head. ”And I wouldn’t want that. No, you’re too pretty to get fucked up.”

Rome probably wasn’t going to let up anytime soon. He had enough spells to last him for quite a bit.

[Achille Desmarais]

Achille’s already pale face became whiter, making it as light as a snow bank. He stayed facing away from the other two, and felt his stomach flip over inside of his body. Either someone was hexing him, or he was about to experience the glorious side of withdrawal. He enjoyed Wolven’s anger at Rome, and hoped it would allow him to continue unnoticed. He leaned against the wall, and softly expelled his bowels for the second time that day. He had imagined the first time that if he just let it happen, then it would make him feel better, but quite to the contrary, just added to his bodily unhappiness by providing him with a vile taste in his mouth. As he vomited, he swore "Putain!”

He was hunched over against the wall, spitting the remains of his bile into the grass, and looked under his shoulder to see the aftereffects of his spell on Rome. He couldn’t grace Rome’s comment with an answer, because he was too busy being sick and self-pitying. Certain that word of this would get around school and make love-children with the other rumors he was sure there were about him, he spat again, this time making a face not in disgust at the flavor, but at the situation he found himself in.

Rome really thought he was clever didn’t he? When in reality he was just a big-headed fool who got off on pissing people off. Achille could not tolerate him, especially with the mood and status he was in. "Ca me fait chier." He planned to give Rome a good talking to, and maybe a good hexing too, just as soon as he felt well enough to lean himself off of the wall where he would be able to stand up straight.

[Wolven Prince]

Wolven growled at Rome again. Why in the hell couldn’t Rome just shut the hell up and not make him more furious? Did this kid not know who he was dealing with? No of course he didn’t. Only a few people knew of what he was, and those who did, were sworn to secrecy. “Don’t listen! Don’t listen! Don’t get mad! Don’t let him bait you! Don’t give him what he wants! Don’t snap, don’t snap…. Don’t… snap…. Control your bleedin’ temper, Wolven! Damn it! You dumbassed fool! Control yourself!” Wolven shouted in his mind, trying to control himself, trying to get him to calm down.

Wolven couldn’t help ignoring Achille, he was far too angry to care about the sick little Ravenclaw boy at the moment. He was too angry at Rome. Rome really must have one hell of a death wish, or so that’s what the werewolf believed, at least with how much he was pissing him off to no end. To the point of when he snapped there would be no turning back and when he did he would take whatever punishment it got him. It would be worth it! Anything to shut this annoying little prat up…

The werewolf was shaking in anger, which was bordering on rage. There was only so much he could do, after those words left the Slytherin’s lips. Rome had no right to preach those words, especially him. The werewolf had heard those stupid lecture words every time he had gotten in a fight, and Wolven's response was always the same. "If they didn't piss me off, I wouldn't need to get angry." Sure somewhat childish words they were, but they worked for him.

But for whatever reason, Rome saying those words, launched Wolven into one of those rages; Wolven only saw red. The werewolf, who was already tugging at the chain that stopped him from leaping at the unsuspecting fifth year, had snapped and now there was no stopping the werewolf or his uncontrolled rage. His mind covered in red haze of anger and rage. Wolven lunged for Rome, aiming a punch at the other’s face. As much as he wanted to, he would not be like Fenrir Greyback or another werewolf who had no control whatsoever over their actions, human or in werewolf form, nor would he scratch others in his human form and show people just what he was. Which was something he took pride in, being able to have a choice of what to do and what not to do. “You. Don’t. Know. Me…. So. Stop, Talking. Like. You. Do!” Wolven barked out, his voice rough with rage. His slitted pupils able to be seen, when he had lunged for Rome and had aimed a punch at the male, his bangs swaying, allowing his eyes to be seen, for the first time since arriving in the Courtyard.

[Rome Kingston]

There was no killing Rome’s bad mood by this point. He was floating high off of the reactions of Wolven and Achille, amused and entertained by said responses. The more harsh they responded, the more Rome was entertained, and, therefore, the longer he could go. He was similar to most children when they taunted another; if the other kid responded in a harsh manner, he was amused. But if the other kid didn’t respond at all, he grew bored easily and would possibly end up leaving the other person alone until he had nothing better to do. Sure, he just ended up isolating himself from the rest of his peers, but was that truly a bad thing? No, not even a little.

Rome didn’t know French too well, but he sure as hell knew how to curse; or, at least, he understood it when someone else did. He smirked a bit wider than he had before as Achille swore, making a tsking sound once more, changing the target. ”Mr. Desmarais, watch your language!” he said, wagging a condescending finger at -- he hadn’t noticed the vomit yet. But, as Achille looked over his shoulder, Rome noticed it. He raised an eyebrow, opening his mouth -- and promptly closing it and turning towards Wolven. While it didn’t seem like he had limits for his teasing, he did -- he wasn’t about to continue to assault Achille while he was quite obviously sick! No, that wasn’t fair. He was going to wait, let the other recuperate a bit, make it so he was healthy enough to be able to cast more than one spell without vomiting.

Rome looked at Wolven, chuckling faintly. Wolven, on the other hand, seemed to be perfectly fine (physically), and look, he was already about to snap. His plan was to try and think of one more tease to finally get him, but the only thing that came to mind were werewolf jokes. And there was no way he was going to say any of those. They were a cheap blow, and, quite frankly, there was no possible way he was going to tease/taunt someone because of something like that.

But it didn’t requite another taunt to get Wolven to snap. Before Rome knew it, Wolven was lunging his way, attempting to punch him in the face. Rome attempted to dodge out of the way, but he merely ended up slamming into the wall. Damn the wall. With that, he realized he had no more time to dodge, so he merely stayed in place to let Wolven punch him -- perhaps at the last second he could have tried dodging, but he wasn’t good with agility.

[Achille Desmarais]

Achille took a deep breath, trying to calm down his beating heart, and to keep his head from spinning. It was too public for him to make a scene. The worst case scenario had a possibility of playing out: being sent to the infirmary where they would discover that he had residues of opiates in his body. He took a few seconds to catch his breath, but didn't succeed very much.

If only he knew a spell that could make him feel better. He could probably find one from a professor, but that would require him to give up his secret to them, which would end up with terrible consequences. He swallowed, and forced himself to put his discomfort at the back of his mind. Mustering his will, he pulled his features into a straight face, and used the wall as a tool to push himself off and regain balance on his own two feet.

He needed to sit. And the closest bench was on the other side of Wolven and Rome. He went to move past them, and kept his eyes straight forward, not wanting to lose control of his dizziness, and went right for the seat that could provide momentary relief, a place where he could regain focus and perhaps get his body to stop shaking. He hoped that the two wouldn't notice the quiver in his voice as he stepped past them, saying, "I'm not in the mood to deal with you" to Rome. Right as he spoke, Wolven leaped toward Rome. Achille, startled, lost his balance, but was able to catch himself on the bench. The sudden movement in his peripherals had caused him to turn his head, then allowing his dizziness to knock him down.

Relieved momentarily because of his discovered safety, but not sure what to expect, Achille tried to calm himself down. He glanced up to see that Rome and Wolven were fighting, and mostly staid still, fearing that sudden movement would make him even more nauseous. For the moment, he would settle for sitting on the bench and acting as bemused spectator in the brief scuffle.

[Wolven Prince]

Wolven hadn’t expected his crazed lung/attack to work, in fact he hadn’t been expecting him to loss his cool either, but that had happened, probably because he was angry before even coming here. Because of he wasn’t, he wouldn’t have let Rome get under his skin as easily as he did.

The werewolf couldn’t help grinning at his cornered prey. Who was stuck between a wall and a werewolf. Oh this was going to be fun, for him at least. He didn’t think twice before he threw out his already clenched fist; he couldn’t help but smirk when he heard the satisfying crunch of the other’s nose, seeing that his fist indeed hit the other’s nose, before the werewolf growled in annoyance. “You know, you’re such a smartass. You’re the one who should watch what you say! Because if you don’t, you’re going to find yourself with an enemy you can’t save yourself from!” He said crossly, his voice laced with rage.

(Sorry this isn’t that great of a response.)

[Rome Kingston]

Achille appeared to be really sick. Rome bit the inside of his lip as he looked at the younger Ravenclaw, trying not to betray how he felt bad for the kid. No, that wasn’t who he was. If he showed that, it would make him seem weak, and Rome couldn’t have that. It would take forever for him to redeem himself from that. But…he couldn’t just leave the kid like that, obviously horribly sick. He pulled his wand out and pointed it in Achille’s general direction, trying to be as secretive as possible -- then mumbling a small incantation before putting the wand away again. Hopefully, the charm would help Achille until he could get better help, or at least make it so he could walk around without losing his balance and/or throwing up.

But, of course, that moment of sympathy made it so he wasn’t prepared when Wolven’s fist connected -- and broke -- his nose. Rome hissed in pain, backing away from Wolven. ”Apparently, said person also can’t think of a retort of his own,” he shot back, pulling his wand out again. ”Would you like a little time to come up with a better one? Don’t worry, I’ll be here all year.” Despite having a broken nose, Rome couldn’t help instigating Wolven even more -- but Jesus Christ, that fucking hurt. He pointed the wand at his nose and muttered ”Episkey”, making a noise as the nose fixed itself. He wiped the blood away from his nostril, grinning -- with the blood all over his upper lip, he looked almost like a madman.

Rome stuffed the wand away again. ”Haven’t gotten in a good fight in a while,” he said, chuckling. ”But for you, hun, I’ll risk the detention.” He winked at Wolven, taking a bow.

((Sorry, mine isn't any better.))

[Achille Desmarais]

Achille shut his eyes, to block out the outside world, and it worked. He suddenly felt immensely better. He knew, though that the instant he let himself out of his self-hypnotism, that he would once again be assaulted. For now, though, it was fine. He suddenly questioned why he would suddenly feel so much better.

Opening his eyes just a crack, he noticed Rome with a broken nose. Achille didn't know too much about Rome, but he did know he was a decent fighter, and likely would be able to avoid a hit like that unless he was distracted. He continued to watch the slytherin boy as he moved his wand's tip from pointing in Achille's direction to his nose. From Achille's direction. Achille realized that Rome had noticed his ailment, and done something to help!

Of course, it was certainly possible for it to be coincidence. Rome could have just had slow reflexes today, but something about it made Achille think that he had helped him out. But why would Rome do something like that? Achille pondered this as he once again closed his eyes. Maybe he would return the favor. At the moment, though, he was too comfortable staying still, it being the first time in days that he had felt any relief at all.

[Wolven Prince]

Wolven had noticed the move, out of the corner of his eye, he could hear the barely audible incantation, thanks to his heightened senses of being a werewolf, also he could see the Ravenclaw fourth year getting hit with a spell or charm or whatever. And just before he had punched the other, he had seen the other’s wand. In fact he hadn’t expected it, Rome being nice wasn’t something the other did normally, in fact Wolven was certain the other never cared or gave a shit about anyone other then his own arse.

Wolven was snapped out of his retrieve by Rome’s responses, he couldn’t stop his eyebrow from twitching in annoyance at the other male. Couldn’t he just back down? The werewolf had just broken the other’s nose in pure utter fury, had he not? Sure it was Rome’s fault for egging the werewolf on, Wolven wasn’t going to deny that. It was also his own fault for not controlling his temper better, but his temper wasn’t something he could really control…

The werewolf narrowed his dull blue eyes on Rome, forcing himself to calm down enough to the point of where he wouldn’t lash out at Rome again, before his shook his head, whirled around and stalked back over to his thrown bag. “You’re not so much of an asshole as I thought you were, Kingston.” Wolven responded smugly, you could practically see the smirk that formed on his lips, his voice was loud enough for Achille to hear as well as Rome, as the werewolf bent down to grab his bag by the strap and slung it over his shoulder. “So I won’t bother to fight you, you’re not worth it anyway, and I’ve got homework to finish.” He said simply, his voice calmer than before, as he threw a glance at Achille to see how he was doing.

Seeing as the boy was somewhat better, Wolven switched his gaze back to Rome, to watch the other, and wait for the male to say something or another or throw a hex, jinx or whatever else at him, for him breaking the other’s nose. The werewolf was ready to use his wand if need be.

[Rome Kingston]

Rome loved spells. They added a sort of anonymity, made it so one couldn’t figure out where, exactly, a spell came from -- unless they tried to use Priori Incantato, but they couldn’t do that unless a), they took his wand and b), that helpful little spell was, in fact, the last thing he cast. But, thanks to Wolven, they couldn’t trace it back; the last spell he used ended up being Episkey, which everyone saw him do. He was in the clear: there was no evidence he ever helped Achille. But the truth was, he did; the kid was fucking vomiting everywhere. He needed the damn help.

Wolven ended up turning his back on Rome. Rome raised an eyebrow, acting as if he didn’t know what Wolven was talking about. But in his head, thoughts raged -- had Wolven seen him helping the fourth year out, or had he finally figured out Rome’s game and decided not to play? Either way, he wasn’t too happy -- but again, he refused to show it. Rome was a douchebag, and there was no redemption for him. He smirked slightly, making a slashing motion with his wand and muttering something under his breath -- and watching as Wolven’s bag was ripped open by the spell, rendering it unable to carry any more books.

Rome shook his head. ”Honey, I wasn’t done with you yet,” he said, making a tsking noise yet again; surely, they would be sick of it by now. Rome loved it merely because it made almost anything he said appear to be condescending, making the others even angrier and making himself seem like even more of a douche. Which was pretty much all he wanted in the first place. He snickered. ”And you should know better than to turn your back on me. Well, of course, unless you were expecting a sort of surprise visit from a friend.” He winked at the other, wondering -- and hoping -- Wolven would get the joke. But the Gryffindor wasn’t an idiot; Rome was sure he’d get it.

He couldn’t help but look over at Achille to make sure he was all right; it wasn’t that Rome felt attached to the fourth year Ravenclaw, but merely that he felt all things should be just, and it wasn’t just if he was taunting the kid while he was puking his guts out. And if Rome nudged him in the right direction…well, it would help him get better faster, and so Rome’s group of people to taunt/flirt with grew. But, despite him trying to convince himself, he couldn’t help but wonder if there was something more to his own action that he wasn’t seeing. Was…was he going soft?

[Achille Desmarais]

Achille though about casting a spell towards Wolven as well, stealthily of course, in order to repay Rome for his apparent kindness, but he decided against it. Casting spells would only make him feel worse at the moment. He looked at Rome, with a softness in his eyes. Was it really possible that Rome Kingston, Rome Kingston, had a soft side? Achille watched as Rome ripped open Wolven's bag. He obviously was fine without Achille's help anyway.

Feeling comfortable for once, and even a little content, despite being around two conflicting persons, Achille let his thoughts wander. Surprisingly to him, they began to wander towards Rome, he had never really looked at him the way he was right now, it was very interesting to him. Inevitably, though, his thoughts turned to worry, fear, and depression.

He was worried about his plan to get drugs to Hogwarts, there were far too many uncertainties involved. It was almost certain that he was going to end up alone, without any way to deal with his pain: physical or emotional. He would sink again into his despair of never living up to expectations.

He continued to watch without action, because he was not in any state to be up and about. He had a relaxed expression on his face, and his eyes were only open a bit.

OoC:: sorry for not having very much interaction, but it would just be out of character at this point =/. Soon, though, THERE WILL BE INTERACTIONS.

[Wolven Prince]

Wolven had backed down from a fight, and that wasn’t an everyday thing, if anything the werewolf never backed down from anything! Wolven wasn’t the kind of guy to just back down and roll over with his tail between his legs. No Wolven if anything was top dog around here… OK that was the wolf-side of him talking, the beast within him, loved to think of himself that way. The beast, the werewolf, the true monster that only came out once every full moon, loved to think of himself as Alpha, leader of everything and everyone. Wolven was much more different, he’d rather go about his life in misery and solitude, take what was thrown at him, just to prove he could take it, go home to his shack and drown himself into intoxication and unconsciousness with the aid of several bottles of Firewhiskey, and die in friendless solitude.

If the werewolf was anything but honest, Rome was pissing him off, and clearly trying to bait him into another fight, like before, but Wolven was smart, he wasn’t about to fall for the same trick twice, nor was he going to be stupid and allow the other’s words to get to him and make the werewolf seem like the bad guy again, because if anything that was Rome who was the bad guy here, baiting people and pissing others off just to get them to fight with the Slytherin and than act all fucking innocent and make the one who punched first into the bad guy. No way in hell was Wolven going to play this stupid bullshit game with this damn immature prat who couldn’t stop being a prick assed jerk.

The werewolf wanted to punch Rome in the face, wanted to hex him to hell, after he heard the ripping of his bag and in that moment, there was only one thing the werewolf was diving to catch, a glass vile, containing the Wolfsbane potion that he needed for tonight. Upon catching the vile, the werewolf nearly leaped to his feet, a snarl pulling it’s way onto his lips, before the werewolf turned around and pocked the vile in his pocket, turned back around to glare at Rome, before he took out his wand, muttered a quick spell, which fixed his bag and he waved his wand over his books, muttering Wingardium Leviosa, so as to make his books float and get back into his fixed bookbag.

Wolven rolled his eyes at Rome. He hated how the Slytherin called him Honey, but he let it slide, no reason to be baited into another fray with this pompous Slytherin. “Well too bad, you insolent brat. I’m done playing with you. Go find a new playmate to annoy.” He growled out in annoyance. Wolven breathed in deeply from his nose, taking in the scents around him, to hopefully calm himself down, and frankly he didn’t like these two at the moment. He could simply taste the hostility in the air. If he kept falling prey to Rome’s stupid actions, it would just make Achille get on his case as well, and he(Wolven) had done nothing wrong! It was Rome who didn’t back off when Wolven had warned him to. So this was all Rome’s fault, and Achille was just an idiot who couldn’t get that through his stupid head. For a Ravenclaw, he was an idiot in Wolven’s eyes.

The werewolf grunted in annoyance at Rome’s joke, if it could even be called that. Oh he got the joke alright… He just wondered where in the hell this fifth got such a disturbing mindset... Right now he wished he could stop his eyebrow from twitching. Wolven shook his head and growled softly. “You are the most distrubing fifth year I have ever had to deal with.” He answered simply deadpanning his entire sentence which was filled with clear annoyance and disdrain. The werewolf shook his head and sighed. Oh why did he had to get stuck with this dirty-minded fifth year? And frankly he'd give anything for help right now, but was a long cry away from happening, besides no one would willingly help him out, at least not here, as the only other occupant in the area, right now was the fourth year Ravenclaw boy, and he knew who Achille sided with, that brat was siding with Rome for Merlin’s sake! Which only made Wolven hate the Ravenclaw, not because of that stupid rivalry with the Slytherins and Gryffindors, Wolven never took part in those petty worthless rivalry fights, they had nothing to do with the werewolf and as far as he was concerned he wouldn’t ever get involved with one. It was stupid and pointless and the werewolf had much more pressing matters to worry about.

Wolven couldn't wait to get the hell out of here! More importantly why the hell was still he staying around here anyway?! The fourth year prat clearly didn't need his help, and the last thing he wanted to do was stay with Rome and the boy's perverted thoughts. Wolven rolled his eyes, mumbled a few choice words under his breath, wand still in his hand ready to be used, as he stalked over toward the exit(Feel free to stop him from leaving if you want).

[Rome Kingston]

Rome noticed the softness in Achille’s eyes when he looked over at him to check if he was okay, and turned back towards Wolven immediately. Fuck. His fist clenched, looking back at the image to try and dissect it. Achille knew it was him who cast the spell -- no avoiding that -- and he was looking at the fifth year in a new light. He bit his lower lip lightly, refusing to look at the fourth year. So much for maintaining a reputation. His wand tapped against the outside of his leg -- he could easily cast a spell at Achille to regain his reputation, but…it was a douche move, even for him. Damn, he really was going soft.

He turned his full attention to Wolven again, incited slightly by what he had just been thinking about. Had Rome not been slightly angry (at himself), he would have just left Wolven alone. But he had emotions to let loose, and he wasn’t about to pass up an opportunity to vent. Had Rome been at his normal capacity, he would have gotten bored a while before and just left Wolven the hell alone. He wasn’t going to back down now, though.

Rome’s eyes fell on the potion. He had no idea what it was -- well, considering the gossip, he did -- and he wasn’t the slightest bit curious. But Wolven lunged to grab it, which, while still wasn’t curious, he realized he could use the sixth year’s…protectiveness of the vial. He smirked. ”What’s that, hun?” he asked, stepping forward slightly. ”Is that poyjuice potion? Are you really a cunt?” He shook his head, snickering. ”It would attribute for a lot of things, if it were the case. Your bitchiness, your ability to just stand in the way…”

It was at that moment that Rome realized that he…was oddly aware of the hostility that he was spewing out and feeling a bit bad over it -- what the fuck was going on with him? He tensed, biting his lower lip harder. Why the hell was he like this? He uttered a low growl -- then stopping almost immediately, aware of his surroundings and the fact that he was possibly being stared at. He had never cared before -- why did he care now?

He refocused everything back onto Wolven, smirking once more. ”Look, I know you don’t have a pair, but it doesn’t mean you need a polyjuice potion to fix that,” he replied, shaking his head. ”Well, you do, but just no. If you’re a bitch, just go back into the common room and cry about how horrible I was to you.”

[Achille Desmarais]

Achille was pleased to see that Wolven was exiting, any fewer people in the courtyard could only be a plus at the moment. When Rome called out to Wolven, Achille winced. Non! He thought, Why would that idiot want him to stay and fight? He realized it was Rome, though, and understood that it was just his way.

I must have been imagining things, he thought. There is no way Rome did something that nice for someone else. Achille watched in disgust as Rome spat out insults toward Wolven. He was a fool and there were no two ways about it. He cursed himself for ever thinking a positive thought of Rome. He was, as Achille had always thought, a hopeless cause.

Achille pulled out his wand. He didn't care what Rome had done for him, he was a terrible person, as could be seen by the words he used against Wolven. The corners of Achille's mouth pulled into a deeper frown. He whispered a spell "Flipendo!" swishing his wand this way and that. An unseen force went toward Rome, and he was propelled forward. The unsuspecting boy tripped, and Achille looked down at his hands, which were currently putting his wand back in his sleeve.

Not quite knowing why Rome was getting to him so much today, he cursed himself for being too stupid to just allow Rome to pick on someone else while leaving Achille alone. What kind of idiot am I? It's not like Rome won't know it was me. And his falling on his ass won't solve anything. If anything, it'll bring his attention back to me. Achille frowned and felt himself collapse into himself. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. He deserved whatever was coming next for being such a dolt.