Alex Weasley (![]() ![]() @ 2009-09-08 12:06:00 |
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Entry tags: | *complete, 2024 09, character: fred alex weasley |
RP: A confrontation
Who: Alex Weasley, unnamed Slytherin boy
Where: Some corridor somewhere, Hogwarts
When: 8 September, 2024 |late afternoon
Rating/Warnings: N/A
Summary: Alex meets with taunting, and retaliates with an 'oops'
Status: Complete
The halls were quiet, with most students off either studying or something else, enjoying the last bit of decent weather. Alex had found an alcove with a snake-adorned bench and had spent the last little while going over the Transfiguration from today, a handful of peanuts lying on the bench in front of him, waiting to be transformed into pearls. He had a few in the palm of his hand already, and was trying to figure out how many he'd need to string into a bracelet. Would Mona even like it?
He smiled. She would.
He worked a few more and then tucked them into the pocket inside his bag, eating the rest of the peanuts and got to his feet. He had a whole can in his room anyway, of peanuts, and it would be good practice for later. He shouldered his bag and headed down the corridor toward the stairs, glancing up at the Slytherin portraits that adorned the halls. They regarded him with haughty gazes as he passed, and the urge to make rather rude gestures as he passed was strong. He managed to quell it, though, deciding that the first couple weeks of school should pass smoothly, at least. No sense in having his father get an owl so soon.
He headed up the stairs, pausing at the landing to look into the dark eyes of Salazar Slytherin, then turned to take the next set.
"Hey, pretty boy." The voice was drawling, almost bored, and Alex sighed when he heard it. "What're you doing down here? We don't let your kind just run loose in the dungeons."
Alex turned, looking down into a dark, pointed face. "My kind?"
"Come on, Precious. You know exactly what I mean. Queerboy. Cocksucker." The boy's eyes gleamed maliciously. "Pretty pink bag and makeup; no way you're anything but a fucking shirtlifter."
Alex rolled his eyes and turned back up the stairs. He couldn't have said later what made him turn around, wand in hand, but he was glad it had. He ducked the yellow stream of magic, landing awkwardly on the stairs, barely hearing the muttered, "Bender..." before gesturing with his own wand. He wasn't sure what spell he'd used, only that it had caused the boy's hair to crackle deliciously as it passed him.
Damn, he'd ducked. The spell hit the portrait behind him, near where Salazar had so recently stood, and the echoing wave of magic was deafening. The other boy gave Alex a panicked look and ran.
Fuck! Alex scrambled to gather his bag and the book that had slid out of it, then sprinted up the stairs in the other direction, joining the chatty flow of students heading for dinner.