Theodore Nott (nottfinished) wrote in finnigans_rpg, @ 2015-01-26 14:15:00 |
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Entry tags: | character: gwenog jones, character: theodore nott |
Who: Theo & Gwenog
What: Theo gets jumped
Where: An alley near Finnigan's
When: Monday night
Rating: R - attempted rape, language, violence
It had been a long day at work for Theo, but a satisfying one. His bad hand had stayed functional despite the cold, there had been no flashbacks, no hallucinations and no dissociation from him today and he was actually feeling a little cheery, deciding to walk a little before Apparating home, maybe even surprising his therapist and going to Finnigan's for a drink. He was in such a good mood that he chose to ignore the way the hair on the back of his neck stood up in warning as just some leftover paranoia.
Of course, the one time that he chose to ignore the warning signs they'd actually turn out to be legitimate.
He didn't know who it was that had come up behind him as he passed down an alleyway, but he'd turned with catlike reflexes and had disarmed two of them before the third had Immobilised him. He never had his wand very far from reach and his instincts were such that he would aim to disarm first and ask questions later. He was quick alright, and skilled with spells, but even that couldn't help him against four individuals.
He fell to the ground still and looked stonily up at the man who loomed over him, no grin on his face. He was diswanded and then held up against the wall of the buildings that lined the winding alleyway he'd been walking down before the spell released him, no time for him to physically struggle before he was hit with a confundus, or something like it anyway. His father had hit him with most of the heavily used attack spells so that he'd at least know what he was dealing with if he was attacked, but this didn't feel like anything he'd felt before. It was as though his limbs were too heavy for him to lift, his body feeling heavy and limp at the same time. His head remained clear, well, as clear as it got, and that was probably the worst thing about this.
He had no idea what these people were going to do to him, and it wasn't until the first wizard he'd shot a spell at stepped forward that he began to suspect why he'd been targeted, and it had nothing to do with his tiny height and slight build.
"Yeah, that's him, that's the crazy little fucker." the man said lowly to his friends. Theodore recognised him as an orderly who'd moved him around in the Janus Thickey ward sometimes. He'd always been a little rough with him and had never treated him with respect, but he hadn't gone out of his way to harm him either; it looked like he'd been holding back.
"It makes me sick, trash like this wandering around with a job he doesn't deserve after getting decent guys like you fired." His friend added. Oh, so that's what had happened to him. He'd stopped appearing at all two months in to Theo's 'treatment' and he'd never been seen again; whatever had happened to him, it looked like he'd blamed Theo for it.
He had an idea that this was going to be bad for him, roughing him up maybe because they thought he'd lost their mate his job, but he'd been roughed up before in ways that would make a mugging look like a love tap; it would suck, yes, but he could handle it. That was, he thought he'd be able to until the skinny younger guy spoke, the second one he'd taken down and one that hadn't touched him but hadn't looked away from him either, his eyes vicious in the dark. "Makes me sick that they let it live." he spoke, his voice a charcoal growl. "Baby Death Eater bastard being let go because it's a fucking nutjob. Azkaban's too good for shit like this. Should have slit it's throat and thrown it out with the rest of the crap. Should have tied it up and burned it's whole family out of existence." This guy made Theo nervous, because this wasn't impotence and failure and boredom focused on an easy target to avenge a friend. This was hate. This was someone Theo couldn't but did remember at his trial, a face in the crowd, this was someone who'd lost family members to his father's sick idea of a game. Worse, to his father's disinclination to clean up after himself. This was someone who was out to kill.
"I'm not-" whatever he was going to say, protest or explain, was cut off by a fist to his mouth, the rings there cutting into his lip so that it bled outside and on the inside where his teeth had cut into the soft places there. He didn't have time to spit blood before the next one came up under his chin, clicking his teeth shut on his tongue and biting near through that too.!
Blood ran down his chin and it started a frenzy, impact after impact that tore his skin and muscles and cracked bone in some places, winded him until he couldn't breathe and all that the short choppy coughs for air gave him was the hot taste of his own blood. It lasted only minutes but felt like an hour, the disorientation of time something that he was well used to. He couldn't stand by the end of it and was let go to drop into a heap on the ground; he couldn't fight back but ha!, he was defiant in his reaction because he had one up on these guys who wanted to see him in pain. They were crude, amateurs at best when compared to the care and sadistic attention that his father had put into torture, but he was still able to utilise his defense mechanisms and slip away into his head. The men stepped back, panting from exertion, their own knuckles split and leaking blood, spattered from the younger man's wounds, to look down at a blank-eyed doll, a body with nothing inhabiting it before them.
It was enough to deter three of them, satisfied that they'd avenged their friend's job, bored with their sport, tired from more physical work than they'd done all week; they wanted to go to the pub to get a beer and drink until they'd convinced themselves that what they'd just done had made up for the things in their life that they hated. It was enough for them, but it wasn't for the fourth. Blank he might have been, but the son of the man who'd butchered his family, literally regarding them as animals, was still breathing.
Alone, he crouched down to Theo's level and tilted the boy's head up, holding his chin to keep his head from falling back, to keep his face eye-level. He looked dead already, and what was the point, where was the enjoyment in crushing the life from this kid when it was already gone? He couldn't take from this boy what had been taken from him because it wasn't really there to be taken. But then again, maybe something else was.
He wasn't a particularly built man, not the tallest guy in the world, but he still had the bulk and strength on Theodore; most everyone did. He was easily able to drag the shadow-thin Slytherin up from the ground and pin him to the wall, helped along when he stepped in close and pressed his body up against the other's.
"You make me sick." he breathed, his mouth up against Theodore's ear they were standing so close. One hand went around Theo's neck, holding him against the wall while the other went down, yanking on the hem of Theo's trousers, the covering robe long since torn away. "You and your family. Your dad, killing my little sisters, making my mother watch. Gutting my big brother. Letting those vicious dogs he had rip my little niece apart so that she died screaming... and look at you-" he tugged the trousers down to around Theo's knees and Theo was beginning to twitch, the man who held him up darkly pleased to some life coming back into those eyes, even if it was just panic. "-parading around like you aren't responsible, like people didn't die because of you, children and women and old men." he snarled into Theo's face, the boy coming around enough to struggle now as the man moved his own robe out of the way, unzipped his own trousers. To Theo it was like being dragged out from under a rock, being forced to face things that he'd suffered through once already. He struggled as hard as he could while still under the hex but a headbutt dazed him into submission again. "Oh yeah, you're back now, aren't you. I just wish your dad was here to see this, see his precious psycho son get fucked by a filthy, animal mudblood."
Unable to struggle anymore, Theo tried pleading but the hand around his throat constricted most of his words and all that came out was a thin helpless whine of terror as the man's hands shoved roughly behind him and blunt fingers tried to pull him apart, push into him. It was about to get very, very bad for Theodore had the sound of jaunty footsteps echoing around the corner not startled his attacker into stopping.
The haze that had come over the man, the boldness that he'd worked up with his friends around him, seemed to dissipate as he realised he was here, alone and very obviously up to no good with an injured man years his younger - he dropped Theo as he was, tugged his own trousers closed and Apparated away with a crack. Theo sat where he'd been dropped, his cloak on the ground under him doing nothing to cover him, his trousers still down around his ankles, bleeding where his skin had split from the force of their blows against his bones. He slumped to the side against the drainpipe and began to shiver.