Fanning the Flames [rufus]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=style, width: 350px; height: auto, btable] ''Oh Marcus, come on,'' the feminine voice, practically ringing with merriment, drawled. The fifth year shifted his robes uncomfortably as he looked into her eyes of dark-sapphire. He saw laughter. Perhaps even a small hint of reassurance. Okay, they were very reassuring. But as soon as Marcus' eyes took the smallest involuntary shift towards that dark, gloomy entry-way that led to the lower floors of the castle, all that encouragement simply fell away. And replacing it was a deep, primal cold that gnawed at his insides. Oh heavens... "For Charlotte,'' that voice said with some finality. Hands briefly leaving her sides in half-exasperation added to the weight of her words. It was funny how a single name could bring about a complete change in a person. The cold spell broke. But instead of giving him courage, Marcus felt his heart sank, followed by a dreadful sense of helplessness. In all his five years at the school, Marcus had never, NEVER taken a single step down the stairs leading towards the basement and dungeons. "Gen," he began, barely noting that the exasperated helplessness had seeped into his voice. He closed his eyes, took a breath. After a brief pause in his self-made darkness, he slowly lifted his lids. "Genevieve," he said again, now sounding more like his usual self. ''I would give the world for her. You know that," Marcus stated with negligible urgency. While Marcus had been able to muster a relatively steady tone, his onyx-brown orbs had yet to recover their confidence. ''I ca-'' Marcus had been about to voice his objection when an all-too-familiar presence reared it's ugly head. It's ugly blonde head to be exact. Rather, he'd felt him coming just before he came into view. The raven-haired youth stopped short, his tongue wound tight against the roof of his mouth. Marcus' words disintegrated to nothingness. God, Marcus hoped that he hadn't heard their exchange. Any of it. It was bad enough having his future sister-in-law bring up his worst fears in public, let alone having that man goad him on it. Not that Marcus' intense fear of underground places wasn't common knowledge among his classmates. Even without him saying it, missing every single potions class for the last five years had a way of alerting others to things like that. Genevieve, however, seemed completely oblivious to the soon-to-be-arrival of the newcomer. Or if she did know, paid it no mind. "Prove it, Marcus. That you'd give the world for her. You can't know how much it would mean to Lotti, Marcus,'' she said, exasperated. He hated having his own words turned against him. And he knew that she knew. It was clear that she was disappointed that what she had believed to be her greatest trump card had failed. Marcus held up his hand. To no avail. ''I'll even stay beside you every step of the way.'' It was then that he saw that unmistakable crown of gold finding its way onto the scene. And there he was in all his Slytherin-splendor. Oh Heavens... So much for keeping their conversation private. Every muscle in his body grew taut. Not for the first time, the Ravenclaw was glad for the loose folds of his school robes, different though they were from those of his fiancée's. In colour, at least. It would be a moment before Marcus could fully relax itself, but his youthful visage had immediately slipped into its fully-confident, fully-nonchalant front. He was not-not!-going to let Rufus Irving cause him to bristle. ''Irving," he greeted tersely. Heaven take him now. That did sound a bit constricted, didn't it.

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=style, width: 350px; height: auto, btable] As rakes came, Rufus was both a terrible and amazingly gifted one. He had always, particularly much more since the start of this academic year, been a more passive figure in the social circle of the student body at Hogwarts. He was perfectly contented to stay by the sidelines while his more active friends went about with whatever students these days did to occupy their time. And definitely, he had no problems being the quiet one in the corner of the common room while the others chatted away. And yet, quite curiously, he had somehow been made the unspoken ‘leader of the pack’ whenever his tight circle of friends were together. It seemed, apparently, that the Irving name held quite a bit of weight even if he was only the second son. That, and his quiet and passive outlook by no means meant that he was timid or shy. Merely, he couldn’t be bothered to. Apparently, as he was once told, that was his selling point. So it came to as no surprise that he wasn’t alone when the fifth year Slytherins were moving from the ancient runes classroom on the sixth floor down to the dungeons for double period potions. There was light conversation among the five of them – or four if you took Rufus out. They were nothing like the group of Gryffindors in their year which whooped, yelled and laughed loudly without reason and at the expense of peace from others, a fact that Rufus was silently thankful for. And while it wasn’t strange that Rufus didn’t participate in their talk, even they, or perhaps it was because they were who they were, could tell there was something wrong with Rufus today. That is, to say, he was in a horrible mood. And who could blame him considering what Carlisle told him during the summer. “Irving, ‘fess up, will you?” Finley groaned as he rolled his eyes. Rufus quirked a brow. On top of the irritable mood he was already in, he was given a double dose of annoyance at being read. Needless to say, he didn’t appreciate it. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he stated, both matter-of-factly and mildly. Had he been talking to anyone else, he would have lied his way through without breaking a sweat. Unfortunately, it wasn’t so easy when these few were concerned. “Rubbish,” Black unceremoniously dismissed. “You’ve been massing up a storm since the term started. Only now, you’re so terrible at hiding it, it’s unbearable to watch. It’s actually rather un-slytherin of you, if you want to look at this in an extreme sort of way.” At that, a chorus of laughter rang out as Rufus threw Black’s smirking face a dark look. He didn’t know since when, but Rufus and his friends had silently established that the word ‘un-slytherin’ as the height of affront for them, far surpassing any other insult thought up in the history of wizarding kind. Rufus briefly considered telling the fellow Slytherin to sod off but decided against it in the end least he prove Black right about the un-slytherin comment. “It’s about a girl, isn’t it?” Harrington grinned. “Couldn’t be,” Finley said. “Girls would be the last thing plaguing our Irving.” Rufus was just about to comment when suddenly, a new voice sounded. “—much it would mean to Lotti, Marcus.” It was a familiar voice. It was a voice Rufus could identify without even thinking. Why did she say Marcus’ name? Had he been any less a Slytherin, he might have tensed and proved his friends right. Thank goodness he didn— “I'll even stay beside you every step of the way.” Something snapped in his head as he turned around the corner, his face a stoic mask. As expected, he came face to face with none other than Marcus Dunesworth. Standing off slightly to the side was a girl, but not just any girl: Genevieve Nightingale. “Dunesworth,” Rufus ‘greeted’ back, all ice and snow with one brow cocked higher than the other. He wondered for a brief moment but seeing Genevieve off to the side and Marcus in front of the entrance to the stairs leading to the dungeons, even a Gryffindor would be able to piece together what was happening. Despite himself, a wave of something akin to empathy washed over the Slytherin for the Ravenclaw. Mixed feelings stirred in him as he looked at the pair, particularly for Genevieve. The girl had also started shifting her weight uncomfortably when she caught sight of him. He told himself he would ignore her from now on but… if he made it too obvious… “Genevieve,” he said, assuming his diplomatic air, “you shouldn’t be torturing Dunesworth— even if he is a Ravenclaw. He hasn’t for the last four years and it’s highly unlikely he’ll start now.” The girl huffed and crossed her arms in the most adorab— Rufus mentally coughed. She crossed her arms, period. “It’s not about houses right now, Irving,” she said. “This is about Charlotte.” Charlotte. Ah, yes. Genevieve’s sister. “I don’t see how Charlotte’s affection would be affected on whether or not Dunesworth goes into the dungeons,” Rufus said. A smirk played at the corners of his lips as he returned his gaze to Marcus – a rather meaningful one at that that said something along the lines of ‘In fact, I rather enjoy a Dunesworth-free dungeon.’

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=style, width: 350px; height: auto, btable] Stoic air was met with stoic air as raven and snakes clashed. Marcus had intuitively brought himself to full stature when Rufus and his gang of Slytherin highbloods rounded the corner. The frosty greeting had been expected, but never in a million years would he have thought that Rufus would take his side, especially in the face of Genevieve Nightingale. Betrothed since his birth to Charlotte, Marcus had shared a relatively close relationship with both Nightingale sisters throughout his childhood. Needless to say, it hadn't escaped Marcus' attention at all that Rufus Irving had acquired an affection for the older Nightingale. And it was as plain as day - to Marcus, at least - that Genevieve's feelings towards him were mutual. Marcus had refrained from saying anything during the four odd years of their schooling despite being thoroughly appalled at the possibility of someday being related to the blonde git. Besides, school-romances rarely worked out, right? Not to mention the arranged betrothal that Rufus almost certainly had, seeing as he too, was a highborn pureblood. Marcus wasn't sure what to feel at the moment, save perhaps a touch of humiliation; not at all a pleasant feeling when staring down this pack of snakes. For the most part, he maintained a stony expression - the most prudent expression - as there was no way he would be able to return Rufus' house-biased remark with one of his own. Not without insulting Genevieve. And heaven forbid Marcus to spurn the fury of his future in-law. However, he was just barely able to keep his good-natured smirk from faltering at the mention of Charlotte's affections. Who was he to judge whether or not something was worthy of winning Charlotte's affections? What did he know of Marcus' one love? Even if they did share the same common-room. The Ravenclaw returned Rufus' provocative gaze with his own unwavering glance, one that implied that he was only too happy to stay away from their miserable excuse for sleeping quarters. He was so engrossed with his game of silent messages that he had almost missed it when Finley's wand slid to his hand. "Flippendo!" There had been no time to erect a shield. The spell hit him squarely in the chest. Just as Marcus' wand came to his hand, the youth found himself thrown violently backwards, the breath completely taken from his lungs. Time seemed to slow as Marcus Dunesworth sailed past the arch and downwards into the darkness below. "Ascendio," Marcus yelled without thinking. At once, his body shifted directions, its trajectory taking him straight into the underside of the spiralling stone stairs. Marcus' torso collided hard with the stone structure before gravity claimed its dues, and he found himself lying on the basement floor, dazed and aching. Gingerly, he pushed himself onto his palms. There was a small tinkling sound of glass hitting stone as Marcus' extra credit assignment - the vial of Draught of Peace he was supposed to turn in at the staff room before dear Genevieve had dragged him off for that insufferable dare - fell from his pocket and rolled towards the back of his palm. Realization dawned, and suddenly, Marcus was no longer in the basement of Hogwarts castle. No, he was seven, and he was stuck in the well all over again. "No..." he moaned softly as he stared into the empty space before him, trembling, petrified. It was cold, and it was wet. Marcus' robes felt heavy and waterlogged. He could feel the water rising past his elbows; past his chin. He was going to drown, and there would be no one to save him.

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=style, width: 350px; height: auto, btable] Perhaps it was from the shock; perhaps it was from the sheer speed of how it happened. Either way, Rufus somehow refrained from shouting aloud when it happened. It being Finley making a move and Marcus flying through the air and disappearing below into the darkness of the stairs. "Marcus!" Genevieve's voice gasped, her hands flying to cover her mouth. The lot of them winced when they heard, quite surprisingly, Marcus' voice from the stairway. But the word spoken made Rufus doubt the usability of his ears. After all, which idiot would use 'ascendio' underground? But then, one couldn't really blame Marcus if he was out of his mind in this situation. The sorry idiot probably grabbed the first word in his mental library of spells. Coincidentally, that spell did start with an 'a'. Before anyone could react, the loudest 'thumph' was heard: the semi-sickening sound of a body crashing against hard stone. Without another word, Genevieve's figure had also disappeared, her footsteps pounding lightly but hurriedly down the stairs. Rufus, on the other hand, spun around to meet Finley's grinning face. Allowing only a frown to leak through his visage, Rufus pushed down Finley's wand arm none too gently, hissing, "What did you just do?" "Oh, come on, Irving. It's just a little bit of sport," Finley said indignantly, though he did compel to lowering his arm and had the grace to look away when he said it. "Giving Dunesworth a... 'push' in the right direction, if you would." Of course Finley could still make a pun in this sort of situation. "Idiot," he gave the pureblood boy a half-hearted shove, saying those provocating words in the same half-hearted manner, "I'm a prefect, you know. What do you expect of me? Pretend I didn't see anything?" And of course Finley smirked. The bastard always did. "I think I could talk my way out of this if I had a mind to." "Over me?" Rufus asked pointedly in an almost mocking air. Finley seemed to falter a bit before the Irving spoke up again. "I'll deal with you later," he said, turning around and moving swiftly down the stairs. "And don't throw anyone else off the stairs while I'm gone." It didn't take long to reach the end of the stairs to see where Genevieve was crouching beside the unmistakeably body of Marcus Dunesworth. Again, the Ravenclaw was making Genevieve concern herself over him. Why was he not surprised? Of course, he might likely have thought that way about every other person that warranted Genevieve's notice but who was keeping tabs? He certainly wasn't. Oddly, looking over his shoulder to the top of the stairs, he found himself wondering if it would have hurt more if Marcus had allowed himself to fall with the natural laws of gravity. It would certainly have spared himself the bruise that was likely to develop on his torso... assuming he missed all the stairs on the way down, of course. Such malicious thoughts... Well... he was holding Genevieve's attention. It was only natural. Coming to stand next to them, Rufus asked tentatively, "How is he?"

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=style, width: 350px; height: auto, btable] "Marcus? Marcus!" she was instantly at his side, her descent down the stairs fuelled by her worry for her childhood friend's well being. She swore, if Marcus lived through this, she was never asking this of him again. How could he?! The picture of Finley's sneering grin was locked in her mind. And Rufus... Rufus had just stood there and let his- his crony toss a fellow prefect down a whole storey. She'd felt utterly relieved to find her Ravenclaw friend relatively un-harmed when she arrived at the bottom of the stair. As absurd as it was for Marcus to have chosen that spell in this location, it had spared the boy from broken bones likelier than not. However, it soon became apparent that all was not right with her friend. She took him by the shoulders and gave him a rough shake. "Marcus?" she tried again tentatively. He didn't seem to hear her. His dark pupils, looking very diluted even in the lack of lighting, were held wide as they stared into the empty space in front of him. His face was drained of any color and oh how he trembled. This was not at all the Marcus Dunesworth she had known since her early childhood. Her heart pounded in her chest. The staccato of footsteps drew her attention from the petrified fifth-year. "How is he?" came Rufus' cautious inquiry. "I'm not sure," she replied, sounding just a little breathless from her brisk run. "He's-" she cast another worried glance at the Ravenclaw. "He's not responding," she told him. Genevieve's lips thinned in semi-frustration. "This wasn't what I had in mind when I set out to help him past his fears," she added grimly. It wasn't in Genevieve's nature to feel the need to explain herself. Not typically. But never had she done anything that had made her feel so in-the-wrong before. Marcus would never have been exposed to such a circumstance had she not flagged him down on his way to the staff room. At the same time, she couldn't help but feel confused and frustrated at how much Marcus could be affected by such a trivial thing of being a few feet underground. Granted, even she would have felt shaken at being knocked down a flight of stairs. "I-" A bluish glint had her stopping mid syllable. Still mindful of her friend, the brunette reached for the tiny glass vial that lay against the back of Marcus' sleeve. She recognized it right away. Today of all days... Leave it to Marcus to have a convenient solution to their problem. But the only issue was, she had never seen the Ravenclaw brew a potion before. In fact, as Rufus had mentioned, Marcus had never set foot in the Dungeons and thus had never taken a single potions class before. She held the vial up to her fellow Slytherin. The potion looked right but... "You don't think it'd be okay if we fed him this, do you?" she asked with uncertainty, her had guilt obviously robbed her of her usual confidence.

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=style, width: 350px; height: auto, btable] Rufus wasn't sure how he was supposed to feel. He was alone -- well... close enough alone -- with a girl he obviously thought of more than a friend and, at the same time, had been avoiding her for the better part of the term since it started. He also wasn't sure how she would react to being with him at the moment -- the person whose friend just blasted her sister's fiance off the top of the stairs and into the basement. And really, as if the act itself wasn't bad enough, being underground was also Marcus' greatest fear. That had to, at least, triple the severity of the offense. In short, he had been prepared for anything between a slap and an outburst. Neither came though. And even then, Rufus didn't know if he should be relieved or not. Genevieve was far more fixated on helping Marcus. And the Ravenclaw wondered why they didn't get along. Rufus knew Marcus to be a far more observant soul than he truly let on so he could only conclude that Marcus was so close to Genevieve on a principle to annoy the Irving. Of course, it had nothing to do with the fact that Genevieve was his future sister-in-law. Of course not. Rufus frowned at the vial that Genevieve held up. Well, she was right in how it looked right. But then... there were a thousand things that could go wrong even if the potion 'looked right'. Come to think of it, because Marcus had never attended a potions class with them before, none of them actually knew how good (or bad) Marcus was at the subject. The Drought of Peace wasn't exactly child's play either. In the end, he sighed, fishing into the depths of his robes for an almost identical looking glass vial containing the same extra credit assignment he had been meaning to turn in after Potions Class. "Here," Rufus said, holding out his vial to take. At her expression, he just barely held another sigh. "Don't take this the wrong way. It's not that I don't trust Marcus' work. It's just that I could never trust his work more than my own. At least I know for sure I didn't make any mistakes." And it wasn't like he needed the extra credit points in any particular sense. It was good practice and it gave him access to ingredients from the store. He might as well reap points for it too, he supposed. "Has anyone ever told you you're over-confidence is going to come back and bite you one of these days?" the female Slytherin said, but nonetheless took the vial. "No," was the simple answer. "Well, it will." "Your words wound me, Genevieve." A small smirk played at the edge of his lips. The girl rolled her eyes. "You are impossible." Rufus, secretly pleased and taking her comment as a compliment, watched closely as Genevieve poured the contents of his vial through the Ravenclaw's slightly parted lips.

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=style, width: 350px; height: auto, btable] The potion trickled down his throat without any resistance from the Ravenclaw prefect save the expected cough and splutter after the potion was downed. Marcus was on his elbows with hands balled into fists gripped so tightly that his knuckles had begun to whiten. It took a few moments, but slowly, Marcus' mind began to surface from its watery prison. He blinked a few times, his body losing its tremors. There was a partial-calm settling his nerves and before long, Marcus' vision was his again. "Marcus," Genevieve breathed a sigh of relief. She held out a hand but before she could touch his shoulder, Marcus' hand shot up to hinder her. "Don't, Genevieve. Please. I've had enough for today," he told her wearily. His tone had lost its usual clarity, Marcus vaguely noted. And try as he might, it was difficult to muster any emotion. Fascinating, although it wasn't really a new experience. His body felt as though it had been through a good beating, and recalling the fall he'd had... well, Marcus wasn't surprised. The Ravenclaw sank onto his hindquarters and breathed. "And I suppose I owe you my thanks, Irving," he said. It was without spite. God knew, he was much too tired for that right now. "As well as a vial of Peace." Marcus' eyes fell on the two vials held in Genevieve's hands. "You may take it if you wish. You'll find it as flawless as your own." After recognizing the effects, Marcus had thought at first that the Slytherins had given him his own potion. However, a closer inspection at the empty vial confirmed that said vial was not his. He'd known for a fact that Genevieve had not planned on brewing the extra credit assignment, which left one logical conclusion. Marcus found he wouldn't mind it even if Rufus were to turn in the assignment. It wasn't as though he would turn it in himself now that he'd deprived someone else of rightfully earned points. He would catch up in the next assignment. Right now though, he was much more interested in this feeling. He was underground and yet terror was held at bay. "Since I'm here, I think I may as well take a look at what's down here," he mused aloud. "Marcus!" she sounded surprised. He held up his hand once more. "Don't mistake me, Genevieve. I'm not coming down here again. Ever," he told her pointedly. He wouldn't. He wasn't about to visit his fiancee under sedation either. However, he wasn't about to pass up this opportunity either, unwilling though he was at the notion. A short tour in the lower floors would give him time to think how he might face his tormentors. There hadn't been very many people around, if memory served. But a scene was a scene. "We need to get you to the infirmary," she said in a tone that was altogether - like her mother's, Marcus thought - condescending. "The infirmary may wait, Genevieve. I'm not hurt and as I mentioned, there will not be a second time," he told her. He cast a subtle glance at Rufus, his eyes torn between imploring and challenging the blonde Slytherin. He had not expected Rufus to side with him, of course. There wasn't really any reason for him to. Save, "Besides, I think it'll be in Finley's interests if we waited a while before going back upstairs." He had no desire for the incident to grow out of hand, even if the whole school was practically aware of his phobia. He would get back at the Slytherin in his own way, away from the judgmental eyes of the public.