the rhythm of the night {beatrix. c}

[Austin Callahan]

The early morning was fast closing in, as the Slytherin boy inspected the appearance of his new surroundings. Truthfully, despite the vast amount that the male had ingested in the last few hours, whilst enjoying the company of various others at the bustling party, he wasn't as drunk as he'd predicted he would be at this point. Now, there was little doubt that he was indeed very drunk, but seeing as he still felt as excitable and lively as towards the beginning of the night, he found himself surprised at his liver's tolerance. While nearly every other student had drifted off to sling themselves roughly into their beds, tired from the night's former activities, he was seeking further entertainment, evidently disappointed by their lack of youth to cope with large amounts of alcohol or dancing. Early nights weren't a thing for Austin Callahan - he didn't understand the concept. Feeling just as jovial as the early hours of the night, he was eager to satisfy his urge for further bodily pleasures.

It wasn't long before he found himself carelessly inspecting the furniture around him, throwing things behind him, as he searched through the cupboards with some interest. Finally, it appeared he grew bored with this pursuit and turned to the object he'd been concealing beneath his jacket as he'd stalked from the room, with a huge smirk etched into his features. Setting it upon a small wooden table, he took the seat nearest, settling himself comfortably, folding one leg over the other as he recklessly pushed away from the table, leaning dangerously back on the haunches of the chair. Again, his interest in this activity wavered sharply, causing him to search for another source of satisfaction.

Walking casually through the hallways, as though there was nothing odd or wrong about a student pacing the castle's corridors at strange hours in the morning, he showed nothing of concern or fear upon his face. Drawing nearer to several doors, one caught his interest, curious about its contents, or lack of. Smirking confidently, he grabbed the handle of the door, pushing it aside, before closing it behind him. Not a room built for ease of movement, definitely. Yet comfortable. Retrieving the same bottle as before, he enjoyed several minutes of peaceful drinking, before a sudden dull sound caught his attention and spiked his interest.

[Beatrix Conelly]

she was queen of the world, a golden goddess looking over her people as she stood on top of the stairs, gazing hazy-eyed across the crowd of drunken ravenclaws and slytherins both laughing, cajoling, and dancing to whatever music was playing on the radio. there was a certain buzz in the castle that was unavoidable, a certain ambiance and excitement for the beginning of what would be an interesting school year, that not even the otherwise studious ravenclaws could resist in taking part of. this hadn't happened in a while, being drunk and truly happy for the moment. moods were always fleeting for the conelly girl, but this was lovely. everything and everyone was lovely and perfect sunshine and rainbows after four glasses of firewhiskey, a poorly rolled joint, and two pints. and...

she was going to be sick.

or at least she wanted to be sick. her ravenclaw wit and intelligence clearly didn't apply when she was absolutely inebriated, and even though she thought that trying to make herself get sick so that she wouldn't have a hangover in the morning was a brilliant idea, no one else was on the same page. which led to where she was now, in the common room bathroom, fighting with her two best friends who were perhaps equally as drunk over a toilet. "just let me dooooo it!" she shrieked, writhing violently and trying to free her wrist from her obviously stronger werewolf friend, jabbing her as hard as she could in the ribs with the thick heel of her black pumps. it was a normal and odd occurrence when beatrix would drunkenly slink off into the bushes like an animal to do so, but her friends were proving troublesome. "i'll put my fingers in my throat if i damn well want to!" she growled, biting her friend's arm and breaking free into a sprint, giggling the typical bell chime of her light laughter, looking over her shoulder to catch glimpse of any followers as she swiftly exited the slytherin common room, glancing around quickly to find a hiding place.

swinging open the first door her hand landed on, the teen threw herself carelessly into the small space, only to collide with another body.  or what might have been a very large broom holding a glass bottle.  whimpering and coughing from the sudden impact, pale blue optics blinked slowly to take in whatever unmovable force she had knocked into.  it appeared as though unfortunately it was definitely human.  "callahan?"  she croaked with a hiccup following, giving the equally drunken teen a slow once over. not an ideal situation, being trapped in a small space with the resident predator of hogwarts, but not one that she particularly wished to escape from either due to the fact that she had ingested far too much whiskey at that point to care who it was.  "are you hiccup also hiding...? 'cause i'm like... hiccup too punk to drunk this." she inquired raising a brow, staring at the boy with glazed over eyes, only to hiccup again before becoming irritated with her drunken tick, whining, "make them hiccup stoooooop." holding her breath for a moment, the ravenclaw glanced around, finally finding interest in the bottle of whiskey in his hands, her own arms snapping to pry it away from him, "s'mine now.  keepers finders, tina!"  she exclaimed with a cackle, desperately attempting to use all her strength to bring the bottle to her lips. 

 

[Austin Callahan]

The crash into his body was far from a welcome one, indignant that another person could so mindlessly fall over him on their way down the hallway. Glancing up, he rubbed his shoulder ever so slightly, but unaware of the true extent of the pain, due to the numbing effect of the substances rushing through his veins. No sooner had his hand reached for his shoulder in some attempt to soothe the discomfort than he became somewhat intrigued by the intruder's words. Any sense of pain was forgotten, replaced by an amused smirk, or what he thought to be an amused expression, his hand dropping from its rested position.

"You tried... to sit on me!" he exclaimed, in a voice that was as theatrical as he was clearly intoxicated. "You could have broken something important, like... my back... or your dignity..." The last few words were accompanied by a drunken snigger on his part, as though thoroughly amused with his wit whilst under the influence, not giving her much opportunity to retort in those few seconds of hyena-style laughter, clutching the bottle he'd been holding much closer to his chest. He'd stolen this bottle from some other unfortunate soul while they made use of the facilities, having managed this much, he was unwilling to share. "Nooo," he scolded suddenly, although the tone of his voice changed it more into that of a whining complaint in her direction. "The drink is for the decent people in the room, not the crazy ones who can't hold... their drink..." Again, his attention to his words seemed to vary, as though concentrating for periods of time was becoming slowly more difficult.

"Unfortunateeeely," he began, breaking the rare silence between them once more, appearing thoughtful, but lacking any real depth to his choice of words, "This is a one-person space, and I do not like crazy girls invading my personal space..." He paused, edging towards the door that she'd opened, as though meaning to shut the door once again, but preferably with her on the other side of it. "It's time for you to go now, crazy. Thanks for the visit, but my room is off limits to... insane people." He grinned, more to himself, than visibly arrogant as he intended to appear.

No softer approach was utilized during this moment, not paying attention to the manner that he pushed her abruptly towards the exit, whilst simultaneously attempting to retrieve his precious drink. His hands now outstretched to his beloved bottle, drunk or not he was insistent that the only person he shared the alcohol with was himself.

[Beatrix Conelly]

"i tried to sit on you...?" she repeated slowly, squinting her eyes at him in an attempt to re-assess the situation at hand.  austin callahan had never been a particularly entertaining or humorous individual in her opinion, but at that moment, inches away from him or fallen on top of him, there was something strangely hilarious about nothing, nothing at all.  nothing and everything was enough to entertain her.  even callahan's normally unfortunate presence.   his equal intoxicated euphoria heard echoed in his laughter sent her reeling into a not so charming burst of giggle snorts and hiccups, clutching her sides.  "why would i try to sit on you?  you're too thin to be a comfy chair, you lit'le twig." the girl snickered, reaching a hand out to pinch his ribcage, using the other to wipe under her eyes, further smudging the black, ghoulish eyeliner marks that matched with the mulberry stain of her pouted lips.

giving him a slight mumble, a quick flutter of her eyelashes, and the tiniest quirk of a sleepy smile, her laughter subsided. the conelly girl was not certain what he said, but it sounded a little like yet another unoriginal, mundane mental illness joke paired with a sexual innuendo, as was to be expected from the slytherin boy consistently lacking in maturity.  "i can hold my drink, callahan.  hiccup  you're the one that's hanging out by your lonesome self in here."  pushing against his chest to stop him, she blinked slowly at him, the back of her head hitting the door with a clunk, staring at him in silence for a moment with subdued interest, evident in the sudden spark in her eyes that an idea had come to mind.  "for fuck's sake, would you stop with the crazy jokes, i'm no--- wait.  are you meeting someone here, tee-ner?"  she prodded, the faintest smirk pulling at the right corner of her mouth to disguise her disdain at the thought.  

unable to stand that if he didn't find her, he would find another. she would't simper and pout over an obnoxious, spoiled brat. she won't wait. austin callahan was a star, accustomed to girls hustling each other for the best vantage, to smile under the limelight of his attentions whenever he condescended to bestow them. things have always came so easily to him, or so it appeared but beatrix never would.  even if she could feel his breath on her skin, so close and drunk in the broom closet.  pulling the bottle more with a weak groan at the effort, she frowned even through her breathy chuckles.  she clutched the bottle tighter, unscrewing the top and giving a brief glance around the small confines.  not exactly what she expected the pureblood to call home at hogwarts.  there was no rich, leather furniture or silk sheets in this den.  just cleaning and quidditch supplies and the dirty, jaundiced light above that didn't flatter either of them.  "is this why you're such a little troll all the time?  cramped up in here all the time, eh?"  she teased with a last hiccup, sculling the amber liquid away and taking a large gulp.  "you're a terrible host!"

[Austin Callahan]

Nodding very enthusiastically, as though his head motions were plenty to demonstrate how accurate the words he'd proposed were, in answer to the question she'd repeated, he couldn't stop a similar smug expression settling onto his face. Although he valued intellect, it had always been the case with Austin that actions not only spoke louder than words, but could be used to express things that words alone could not. Again, he made the same short movement with his head, agreeing with his former statement, "You tried to sit on me!" The accusation was no less laughter-inducing to himself than the time before, as though entirely entertained by what he thought to be a drunker person's mistake. He'd never admit, or even think, that he might be carrying the same amount of liquid in his insides as her, since he was too proud to do so. In his mind, he was incredibly drunk, but not to the extent that she was. He could handle his drink.

His tone was now not unlike the voice of a child teasing another for its embarrassing moments, in highly immature, mocking style. "I think... you're so drunk... you thought you could seduce me. By sitting on me." The unnecessary clarification followed, with more of his amused snickers. Drinking was definitely something that caused his questionable maturity to reside into remission, with further chuckles that suggested joy caused by her stupidity under the influence. He, of course, was perfectly capable of maneuvering around a small room comfortably, without the need to flatten other people, whereas she appeared to be struggling. Although this minor complaint was soon forgotten, as he became distracted by her general appearance instead.

"If you're not mentally unstable, which... everyone knows you are... why would you fall into the room and head-butt the walls...?" Predictably, the look that succeeded his queries was that of a very much self-righteous smirk as though he'd just devised the wittiest rebuttal in the course of disagreements throughout history. Alcohol was a substance that not only sent him into the realms of utter immaturity, but also made his ego inflate to new levels, hence that most found it prudent to avoid him if he started to rant about his wonderful qualities. "Face it, Conelly... you're wasted." Another smug-filled expression, as he added an accusation to exaggerate his point, while both knew themselves to be far from sober and sensible in their previous behaviour.

His eyes were drawn to her legs for a brief few moments, although the light provided left much to be desired, along with the haziness surrounding his eyes due to the change of state of mind. So much interest did this small patch of skin opposite him generate, that he failed to hear the first part of her irritated response. Something about not being insane, no doubt. He managed a further snicker, being far too accustomed to the angry retorts by a girl who was clearly anything but balanced, in his mind. Narrowing his eyes slightly, he pulled the bottle from her grasp, gripping it tightly, pushing it away from her, leaving it a few inches from his lower back. "What...?" he questioned quickly, realizing his error in not heeding attention to her incessant rambling for the past few minutes. "What are you talking about now, Trixabelle?" In truth, the smugness was now so firmly at ease upon his mouth that it appeared nothing she could say would change it.

[Beatrix Conelly]

beatrix half-grinned at his arrogance, allowing his drunken insults to wash over her, too drunk to bark out her offense.  he could have said worse things.  he had said worse things to her face before.  of course she was mad, it wasn't a very well-kept secret, nor one that magical folk who weren't accustomed to the field of psychology could really grasp.  how wonderful it must have been for him to feel steady as an eye of a hurricane in most situations, while she felt uncertain and anxious, perpetually on the edge.  "i was hiding from my friends, they were like...  trying to make me go to bed and i'm really not..." she trailed off, patting her mouth with her hand as an exaggerated, loud yawn escaped her lips, blinking slowly at him with tired, glazed over optics. "not that tired.  or drunk.   it was just amateur hour for some of them." swaying slightly in the small space, long doe legs crossed and then stumbled into a shelf against the wall, causing a broom to fall with a crash against the floor, earning another snort from the girl, not paying much mind to her destruction.

but to suggest that beatrix conelly was a girl that could not hold her liquor was preposterous, and being the ever-competitive girl that she was, she was determined to prove her so-called 'stone-cold sobriety,' to him.  tilting her head to the side, she lamely pushed him in the chest.  "i was askin' if you were meeting someone here in your room, callahan."  it wouldn't be surprising to her.  but the idea of interrupting some sort of secret tryst between him and another girl was pleasing to her for some reason she wouldn't bother thinking about.  "what?  is this like, your lair or something...?  your rape lair? bah." leaning back against the door, she eyed him with subdued interest, eyebrow quirking as she followed his lazy licentious gaze falling down to under her pleated skirt.  remaining quiet for a moment, she gave him the small gift of saying nothing while he did so, chuckling instead and turning her attentions to where the precious bottle of amber liquid had gone off to.

"i bet that's not even firewhiskey, it's probably some sort of knockturn alley roofie potion, isn't it?" the brunette continued, taking a step forward and boldly reaching a hand behind his back to grab at it again.  roofie potion or not, she intended to forget her name somehow.  jerking the arm he had behind his back with the bottle, she pulled at the bottle with a tug, fingers grasping his wrist until it was brought forward and... until it suddenly spilled and smashed onto the ground into hundreds of tiny, sparkling glass pieces in the dim light.  "fuck!" she cried out, wiping her whiskey drenched fingers on his shirt, groaning her disappointment.    "i'm sorry i broke your rape potion."  she apologized hoarsely, continuing to use his shirt as a napkin, looking up at him with the same stupid grin.  "look, you've got some right here."  standing on the tips of her toes, she reached up to swipe some of the residual liquid from his upper lip with her index finger.

[Austin Callahan]

Of course, he was confident in his own teasing of the others at Hogwarts and through his former acquaintances during earlier years, he knew what angered people, what upset the majority of people and what irritated them. But, of all these observations, none were as obvious or intriguing as the reactions he received from his present company. That wasn't to say that Beatrix Conelly was deeply insecure about every aspect of her persona, or that she was weak-minded and everything he suggested imprinted firmly upon her mind in every waking moment. Even someone of his supercilious attitude could hardly be expected to believe that this one girl was more easily aggravated than the general populous. The reality of the situation was actually that she was prone to acknowledge taunts about her mental stability over anything else he threw at her. And knowing that this little thing bothered her, got under her skin, he rejoiced in taking any small opportunity to make comments about it and increase his pleasure in seeing her squirm.

Considering her, in his slanted view of the broom closet and herself, he paused again, staring out at the four walls surrounding them, thinking the room to be oddly far too crowded with the addition of another body. Such was the awkward arrangement of odd objects that he struggled to identify without close inspection, a task he was unlikely to commit to seeing as it seemed pointless and lengthy, that he found himself having to move ever closer to his conversation partner. The idea that he might injure her in some way, or push her into sharp items in the process wasn't a huge concern, along with his own preservation, given his current high.

"You're hiding?" he repeated, rather incredulously, as though he'd never heard such a preposturous thing come from the girl's mouth. "I think... that makes you... a coward. Cowardly. Scared of people finding you." The unmistakable tone of imperiousness once again crept into his voice, as though he was unable of omitting it, even in friendlier style as he'd now adopted, compared to that of his usual pretentious act. "Why don't you want to go to bed, Conelly? I think... that a bed can be an excellent form of..." He broke off, grinning in what he evidently presumed to be a highly charming way, before adding the final important word. "Recreation..." No prizes would be given out in this section for guessing exactly what he was gesturing towards in his edited language, it didn't take much to estimate that a great percentage of what Austin Callahan was implying was related to that of sex or other similar activities. But, as always, adhering to his moral code, even while under the influence of several litres of Firewhiskey, he never pretended to be anything different. He was fine with causing discomfort, or interest, in the opposite sex.

Shrugging in a casual demeanor, he seemed to be far from concerned by her new attentiveness to her thoughts of him seeing someone else, despite his facial expressions displaying an alternative story. Assuredly, he could not miss the chance to make further jibes about her sudden interest in his personal life, ignoring the occasions in the past when she'd stressed that she did not care in the slightest. Apparently, the drunken Beatrix felt moderately discordantly with her sober personality, provoking additional noises of laughter at her changed standard. "Why the interest in my room..?" he asked jovially, still reveling in the moment. "I might be... meeting someone. Who knows?" He broke off once again, distracted, yet entertained by his private thoughts. "But then you interrupted... how unfortunate."

All adolescent comments were now removed from his head, as he found his viewpoint centered on her skirt, accompanied with that of her simple hand movement. Without any thought on his part, not being a person of a premeditative qualities, he leaned instinctively towards her, his hand closing slowly over her own. "You broke... my bottle." He asserted instantly, his words not in sync with his actions, the space between their bodies barely non-existent, reacting in the heat of the moment. "It wasn't a rape potion. It was good quality Firewhiskey and you... broke it."

[Beatrix Conelly]

going to bed probably would have been the most logical decision for the ravenclaw, five pints past her normal limit, still stoned on old gillyweed, and a hangover imminent.  but hiding in a broom closet with someone who otherwise irritated her to no end was clearly the more attractive choice rather than hitting the pillow.  although yawns were now being spaced thirty seconds apart as she stood in the cramped space with the callahan boy, she continued to blink furiously, shuddering to keep herself awake.  dignity and sobriety surrendered at that moment, she continued to throw her head back in laughter in rare, carefree conversation with him.  maybe that was all it was, drunken toleration for the slytherin.  maybe she truly didn't enjoy his company otherwise, and yet somehow he was always there;  hanging in doorways, always there to rile her.   and she stayed, stubborn and unwilling to falter under his words.  but laughter and playful behavior and...  slight tenderness like what was being displayed wasn't permitted to last, and small compartment of her soul was cognizant of that fact.  the fact that it was just a taste of who he was, someone who didn't have to necessarily be so callous.

"you're not going to give me away are you?"  she asked, suddenly bright eyed, standing up on her heels to press her hand against his mouth to momentarily stifle any noise he was about to make.  stealth was of the utmost importance for the five seconds she remembered to be quiet.  "we need to be quiet, or else they'll take me away."  the muggleborn girl warned him in a hushed whisper, catching his gaze with a serious look in her eyes, as if under the impression that in some alternate universe he would team with her.  "i don't want to go to bed, austin!"  yelling, she quickly giggled and threw her hands in the air, twirling them above her head, humming and spinning ungracefully until she fell into his chest with more giggles and a hiccup, throwing caution to the wind and forgetting about her suggestion immediately.  "don't you want to do something?  anything?  let's run somewhere.  or dance.  or something."  the brunette hushed herself again, looking wildly into his eyes, up to the brim in excitement, desperate to move.  "i'm not a coward! i'm alive... and severely drunk and you're the only other person awake in this purgatory, come on."  she urged him with a whine, lacing their fingers and tugging him toward her.

 huffing and scoffing over his mentions of meeting this elusive woman, she didn't bother hiding what could only be described as possessiveness, or maybe even jealousy.  how could someone possibly choose another girl over her?  the idea was completely ludicrous.  "i didn't mean to break your bottle!" she cried, furrowing her brow and pouting her lips, feeling a twinge of guilt.  "i just wanted to share... and you were being a pervert and... you probably roofie fourth years and take advantage of them and just...  i'm sorry.  but not really."  the girl rambled,  dabbing at his now stained shirt.  "now you look like a doofus."  she snorted, poking the brown mark on his shirt.  "you should really learn how to handle your rape potions.  you're out of control."  smirking, she leaned against the door once again, pulling his hand.  "your hands are very sticky."

[Austin Callahan]

Was he really that loud? She seemed much louder than him, yet he knew himself, somewhere in the back of his inebriated mind, to be equally as 'passionate' about certain aspects of his previous speech. He scoffed, as though illustrating an imaginary idea that nobody else would understand, since they were at a new level of drunk. He couldn't admit, even for a second, that they might be equally intoxicated. In his meddled state of mind, amused with himself and his own considerations, he shoved the girl next to him much harder than he might have done in a sober state, a push that was clearly a friendlier gesture than he'd ever extended to her in the past five years. "You're out of your head," he maintained, making it obvious that he didn't include himself in this category. "You can barely stand, or talk... is that different from usual?" Apparently, no matter how much alcohol he'd ingested in the former hours of the night, it didn't completely destroy his inflated talk.

"Give you away...?" he repeated almost instantly, potentially sounding as if he'd seriously considered such an action, but in reality struggling to conceive what she meant by this absurd set of statements. While drinking didn't remove his sense of self-love, or self-importance, it evidently caused him to be rather forgetful when it came to who said what, when he wasn't heeding it. "Is that a wedding thing, because... I don't like weddings. And I don't like giving. Or giving them... away." Even now, he could feel himself caring less and less about what she was informing him about several minutes ago. If she were to go away, a part of him would be slightly despondent in losing her odd company, but the majority of him still desired his drink that she'd carelessly lost in their surroundings, being unprepared to forgive her anything of which she'd done.

As with the other questions he'd had to figure out from her complimentary facial expressions, he found himself lazier than he'd ever be during a normal day, shrugging for a second time, still thoroughly delighted by something he wasn't divulging to the other student in the cupboard. A few words of her response became caught in his messy stream of thought, causing him to face her with a curious look. "Where are you going?" he asked suddenly, having reiterated that single point until he acknowledged her desire to run away, or whatever else it was supposed to mean. "And... I'm supposed to go... with you?" This led to further confusion in his mind, about exactly what it was that Beatrix was hoping to get from this conversation. "With you? Is this about your lust for me?" His speculation was bound to arise, having played over her words in his head many times. "Because even though it's understandable, I mean.. you're hot and I'm definitely hot... I am not staying with you in a library... that's dull and I have better things to do! Like find a drink that you... denied me." Somewhat suspicious of her motives, but overall still too entertained by his own thoughts to clarify anything he'd said. His thoughts now bordered on territories concerning her that he'd happily speculated over before.

Another rather obnoxious snicker, slightly dimmed in nature by the extent of his alcoholism, escaped his lips, patting her on the wrist for a sympathetic touch. Arrogance still persisted, despite his increasing lack of comprehension for words that were lulling him to sleep. "You can't seriously be still... obsessed with that girl?" Another sympathetic wrist pat. "It was one fourth year, Conelly... We're all over it. Well, I was all over it." Temporarily distracted, he released his grip of her hand, only to discover that she'd taken a strange initiative to hold his. "Why are you holding my hand, Conelly?" A small smirk replaced the former execution, as he pulled his hand away, not hesitating to do so. "Woah, Beatrix. You know... the rules. Hands go everywhere, or they go nowhere. It's my... policy."

[Beatrix Conelly]

she had always been out of her head, she laughed at the idea of ever being 'in,' her head and what that might have been like.  had she been in her head, maybe she would have been cool like him with haughty, incomparable swagger instead of someone so volatile and broken with no real reason why she was that way.  but something about feeling sloshy with alcohol, and the way it made her head blur felt oddly cleansing and calming to her.  it was a consistent feeling that didn't change suddenly.  it lasted.  "i am in my head though, callahan.   more than you are in yours." she sang vaguely, pleased to herself that this was a feeling that he, or anyone would truly understand.  the stability of chemicals and how very wrong he was for once.  she wasn't quite sure what weddings had to do with anything though and stared at him puzzled.  maybe he was proposing, merlin, it wouldn't have been the first one she had received that night, but one coming from him was absolutely unacceptable.  shaking her head, she decided to let him down nicely that this 'wedding,' simply wouldn't exist.  that he was the one that was indeed 'out of his head.'  "i'm not marrying you, callahan.  i would rather stick my head in an oven,"   she chuckled at the idea, "besides, i'm almost as tall as you."  clearly that being the determining factor of soul mates.

 that was besides the point.  she was still trapped in the closet, and while she was sure that she could have easily escaped freely, the idea of being alone again was something that she rejected, the excitement in her body wouldn't allow it and sleep was a lover that refused to be touched.  she needed something to keep her busy, to savor the temporal happiness filling her shell.  these few stolen moments of drugged serenity were precious to her.  and maybe tugging on his hands and begging him to go with her was a childish plea for attention, but she didn't care who he was then.  he was someone.  "i don't want to sleep with you, tina.  i don't lust for anyone. "  she spoke out with obsidian-edged venom, narrowing her eyes at him seriously.  even drunk, there was only so much she could take of men standing in doorways,  grabbing her breasts, waving their money, eyes knocking her down, taking what they felt was theirs.  predictable, just like austin callahan, as smooth as he thought he was.  "i was thinking the kitchens or the lake."

but something else had quickly caught her attention, switching her focus back to staying in the broom closet when he offered such stimulating conversation, replying seriously to something that she had only said as a joke.  blinking slowly, she tipped her head to the side, re-evaluating what he was saying.  he couldn't be serious about raping a fourth year.  but then again, it wouldn't surprise her.  this was something she would definitely pursue.  staring at him hazily, the girl barely noticed their hands separating, still pondering what he had said before.  "wait a tick... a fourth year? you're fucking with me, right?"  she laughed, although the idea of raping a fourteen year old girl really wasn't that funny at all.  "you... you raped a fourth year?"  she continued, instead pressing him against the wall, mouth agape, staring up at him.  "tell me what you did, you little creep."  oh no, she wasn't frightened.  if anything, she was fascinated.    "what'd you do, eh?  feed her a lie and a couple of fruity drinks? you're.... funny.  i mean, incredible."  beatrix goaded him on, pressed against his chest, nearly breathless in her continued laughter, gasping for air and bowing her head down, "merlin, you are a monster."

[Austin Callahan]

Another rough push, as though she was merely joking followed her words, as he grinned back, appearing as though he was currently without a care in the world. It often seemed to him that he was prone to such display of expression, drunk or not, for he wasn't one to let issues that concerned other individuals to get to him, leaving him as carefree as he looked. Being as apathetic towards other people's problems left him plenty of time to taunt them about it, a win-win scenario for such a fun-loving individual as himself. "I think..." he considered her short sentence, in a manner that might almost convey deep thought if one did not know the boy well. "I'd much rather be in your head, Conelly..." And, of course, he meant this. It wasn't a secret that he liked to understand how to antagonize his rivals.

Why on earth had they started discussing weddings and marriage? He couldn't remember the exact circumstances that had led to this subject being broached, but even he couldn't put on the pretence of appreciating the change of topic. He had no interest in marriage, least of all to someone of a lower blood status. "Stop talking about weddings, crazy," he warned audibly, completely overlooking the idea that someone might now be able to hear them, if any such person was still pacing the corridors in the early hours of the day. "I don't like weddings, or wedding... people. And I would never marry you or anyone else... that's messed up. Like your brain... and my shirt..." He broke off, having finally paid attention to his current apparel, not being best pleased with what he had come to to realize. "Did you... ruin my shirt?" His words seemed almost incredulous now, but yet the smirk that followed seemed to eliminate the possibility of him being severely angry with the fellow sixth year. "Are you trying to undress me?" Oh, the smugness that succeeded that particular question was equal to anything she'd witnessed in his most irritating moments beforehand. "Because... you only had to ask."

When he turned back to glance at her, he was taken aback, momentarily, by the unexpected change of mood, despite having been witness to such sudden mood swings in the past. However, when he'd been sat practically on top of another person who'd spent her night giggling at anything she said, he hadn't predicted a volatile moment passing between them. "Liar." His voice carried a notation of the teasing tone that he was so used to releasing in common conversation, unable to resist calling people out on their ridiculous statements. Lying, perhaps weirdly, wasn't one of Austin's many questionable traits. "Everyone... lusts after someone... I lust after so many people..." No huge surprises for anyone there; his reputation frequently proceeded him. Part of him was willing a move from his seated position in the cramped room to one of a wide-open space, but yet he couldn't quite motivate himself to admit that her idea had considerable appeal. Pride was consistently his downfall. "The lake? You could fall over... since we know you've got a record for it... and drown." The last few words were inflected with a joyous sound, as though the thought of her accidentally drowning brought him a lot of amusement. Nothing personal, in actuality, just the same snickering he'd be encapsulating if anyone else were to fall into the lake; it happened to be a funny thought. Although, had he been set in the mode of sobriety, his intentions towards the immature chuckles might have been different - unwilling to back down from their portrayed disdain for the other.

"I pride myself on you knowing if I was fucking you, Conelly." A casual shake of the head accompanied his claims, not making it apparent if his former words had been purely to shock her into niceties with him, or the truth. Taking his time, to allow her to mull over what she'd just heard, he appeared somewhat too casual as though he was discussing a matter of the weather forecast and not serious allegations. "Which girl was that?" he asked, the same formidable smirk never moving from his lips. "There's only been one fourth year girl... she was naive... but strangely enthusiastic..." He trailed off, not being clueless to the fact that she was performing just as he'd anticipated, his eyebrow raised ever-so-slightly. "This isn't... truth or dare, Trixy. You're going to... have to do much better than that." No hesitation proceeded his final action, as swift and daring, in this girl's company, as it was. "I, personally... would suggest this." His hands settled on the hemline of her skirt, pushing them together closer still, striking suddenly, as his lips were pressed firmly and expertly against hers.

[Beatrix Conelly]

he wanted to be inside her head.  the thought was always laughable.  she supposed that she understood the thrill of it, the unpredictability in being with someone like her.  everyone wanted to be locked inside, to see the churning and inner-workings of someone as different and exciting as she.  it was stupid of them all to want to turn over the rocks and then not wanting to see the pale creatures that lived under them.  he thought he knew her, smirking his arrogance.  and maybe he did.  she stared at him long and hard for a minute, trying to memorize the details of his face, the way his lips curved while speaking to her.  " trust me, you don't want to be trapped inside here with me, sunshine." she whisper warned him with uncharacteristic smoothness for the state that she was in at that moment, poking herself in the temple.   for her brief spurts of calm, sultry collectedness though she still felt dumb and subdued, trapped in the cupboard with him.  "you wouldn't last a second.  inside, you wouldn't want to fuck with me."  she laughed hollowly, closing her eyes and sighing, "- and i wouldn't let you out."  although tired and drunk, the expression in her eyes was bitter as nightshade, regarding him quietly.

she laughed lightly with a wicked edge in her tone, stumbling ungracefully between his two legs, holding her balance by placing her two delicate hands on his kneecaps. this was an interesting challenge. perhaps sober she would have physically assaulted him for boldly daring to cross such a line, but she would willingly entertain him for that moment.  he could wish her death or wish her in his bed all he wanted to and she would laugh in his face and dangle it before him with the same cocky smirk, looking like the cat who'd gotten the cream.  "but you don't lust after me, you desire me don't you?" the conelly girl imagined he just wanted to be between her thighs like any other member of the opposite gender. austin just dared to go about it in a more forward way. she supposed it was mildly attractive, he seemed to know what he wanted and didn't hesitate to take it. his confident ruthlessness pulled her attention in a certain way.  "is it a shame thing?" the minx whispered heatedly into his ear, lips grazing the lobe, tempted to take it between her teeth, but pulling away.  "do you feel dirty after sleeping with muggle girls?  is that what gets you going?"

but all confidence and cool is thrown away, licking her lips in a subconsciously seductive manner,  seduced by the simple vulgarities that came so effortlessly off of his tongue.  she doesn't bother to protest against his touch, watching him darkly and listening in silence, watching the movements of his lips. everything that should be was tossed away by her want; want, want, shameless and unadulterated want that reeled her in as he continued his flirtation. austin callahan was something to avoid. she still felt the usual sting of objectification that the majority of men saw in her, saw the temptation that she represented. he didn't put her on the pedestal that she deserved to sit on. what actually perturbed her was the fact that she desired to willingly yield herself to him right then, eagerly meeting his lips with her own.  hooking a leg up over his hip bone, she pulled him far closer than the restrictions of fabric allowed.  pulling away with a near gasp, she clutched his hand, slowly guiding it up her inner thigh to the lace beneath her skirt, "if you wanted to play, you should have told me."  she spoke quietly against his mouth, keeping his hand steady,  "so...  truth."

[Austin Callahan]

"Why?" he questioned immediately, in partial response to her preposterous claims, truly curious about the reasons that she felt it better for him to be situated much further from her. "I think... it's rather entertaining, don't you...?" Judging from her emotions as displayed on her face, no, she did not agree with this sentiment. "What exactly is so dangerous about you, Princess?" The nickname whilst usually a positive one, from his mouth made it clear that the additional word was to accentuate his point of how non-threatening she was, in his eyes. He'd never been scared of anyone before and a Mudblood Ravenclaw girl was hardly going to be the person to change his lifestyle or subsequent opinions.

No, he couldn't even imagine a set of events where he'd be intimidated by such an angry, yet rather attractive girl. Leaving him cause to wear the typical Slytherin smirk once more, he didn't even attempt to convince her that he was obeying her 'commands', or even taking her seriously. Still, the situation could be worked to his advantage and therefore lay his logic for persisting in whatever this moment could be described as. In his altered state, he wasn't concerned for the motives behind his actions, or why or why not he'd do certain things and never think of doing others. Certainly, it was still a rare thing that he'd think before he'd act in the most clear-headed state, so perhaps this whim was only exacerbated somewhat by the mixture of substances. His personality, although almost undoubtedly negative in the majority of traits, always managed to shine through.

It wasn't often at all, however, that he observed her to be wearing an expression that could have easily matched his own for intensity or conviction. Secretly, he rather liked this change of look upon her face, as something that he hadn't identified in her previously, something that corresponded to her aggressive everyday attitude. Pausing, he let the silence fall, before he narrowed his eyes a little, wondering about this second mood swing of the hour. Of course, being so proud meant that he didn't pause to wonder whether this was a trustworthy change from one extreme to the other, but he was seduced by this new side. Obviously so, that she was also evidently using this curiosity to her advantage, although part of him guessed this to be the case. Still, he was prepared to permit what he suspected, in the aim of retrieving the thing that he had always wanted from this particular girl. "What's the difference?" he asked lazily, stretching his legs in order that he might not develop cramp when he eventually fell asleep. "Both are... equally good, in my perspective. Desire. Lust. Incredibly good... things."

He declined to deny how satisfying the scent of her skin next to his was, pulling him ever closer to her, as though he couldn't prevent himself if he had wanted to, so intrigued and pleasured by her touch, the feeling of her breath inches from his nape. So involved was he, that he skipped briefly over the words she'd spoken, reveling in the sensation he'd experienced instead. The temptation once again had seeped into his mind and body, blinding him to plain sight, until the last few words of her recent question dawned upon him, snapping him out of this over-emotional temperament. "No," he exclaimed, as though this one accusation was far more offensive than anything he'd heard in previous moments. "I don't know what's going through your cracked brain, but I do not 'get off' on sleeping with Mudbloods. I don't do that. That's... sick." His offence at this short comment, although he knew this to be a method of getting to him, for once, was inevitable. He didn't appreciate mentions of anything less than the purest blood around him, even more so when it put his precious pride at risk. It irritated him to know that she was getting her way, mocking his prized abilities, without him matching her steps with his own.

Her confident movements, or as they appeared to him, were far more enticing than she might have thought, with him almost succumbing to her requests. Was he really so eager to bed this one girl that he'd temporarily cease his insults, his antagonistic retorts? Yes. He was shallow enough to charm most girls by repeating the things he imagined they'd love to hear from his lips. But then, he had never tried to charm her. Unless one believed the 'treat them mean, keep them keen' hypothesis, which regularly failed in the real world. At that moment, he could care less about what her intentions were, or what his initial prospects were, only concerned with his future prospects rather than ancient history.

If he had a chance, however much she was teasing him, he didn't care about this either. He was willing to take this rare opportunity, regardless of the possible consequences. "My definition of play... is so frequently different to yours, Conelly. How do I know that you're not just... leading me on?" His hand moved smoothly, along the lines of her body, applying more pressure, as his breath hitched at the renewed contact. Grinning conceitedly he resumed the meeting of their mouths, biting down upon her lower lip, before releasing his hold, pulling back shortly. "What would you possibly need to know?"

[Beatrix Conelly]

why  he asked.  just like a child, curious of the inner workings of the world, knowing the stove was hot and yet still outstretching his hand just to confirm the burn, to prove that it existed besides the spoken word.  the question settled into a small, little vacancy in her chest, leaving her speechless, jaws parted as if she had something profound to say, but simply staring back into his dark orbs.  "i'm entertaining to you?" she asked almost inaudibly, eyes squinting to consider him for a moment.  the question was completely rhetorical.  she knew her place with austin callahan, how he poked and prodded her as he pleased until she yelped and ran off like a lame, neglected dog.  edging closer still to him, pale, thin fingers reached up to press against the temples of his head squeezing and hovering before him,  "you think you see me, don't you? but you don't, 'see,' me."  she rambled incoherently, pressing harder into his skull as if trying to psychically transmit her thoughts to him.  releasing him, she blinked slowly watching him.  no, she was no lame dog.  she was the bitch that would dig up his potted plants and howl, bite the hand that fed her instead of being his obedient pet, no matter his efforts.

 'i'm going to make you wish you were dead.' it never quite left her lips, but somehow had managed to invade her every thought, drunk but scorned enough by his insolence and questions.   he should have known better in her presence.  her words were slow, but carefully articulated and perfectly constructed. but it was in her eyes; beneath the smeared mascara and creased grey eye shadow and the fall of her molasses hair in front of them, they're clouded and beautifully careless, reflecting her flawless take over.  he thought he knew everything on love because he made it frequently and physically tangled in his sheets with whomever those numerous twats were that he managed to coerce into sleeping with him.  although surprisingly unacquainted with the act, she had a certain cognizance through observation and experience on the differences between lust and desire.  "you really don't know?" Beatrix laughed at the knowledge of his ignorance.   what a tempestuous bastard he was.  "you see...  lust is simple, empty, easy to satisfy.  boring even. i could fuck or eat chocolate and have the same result.  but desire,"  she emphasized, biting her bottom lip in concentration, "desire is grittier.  it's that pure, raw, explosive pleasure, callahan. better than drugs, better than smack. better than a dope-coke-crack-fix-shit-shoot-sniff-ganja-marijuana-blotter-acid-ecstasy. better than sex, head, 69, orgies, masturbation, tantrism, kama sutra, banana milkshakes and freedom."  silly, but simple enough for an intoxicated sixteen year old boy to comprehend, "- and you desire me."

turning her steep, drunk focus to his lips she traced his jawline in an almost tender motion in her daze, smiling vaguely at him.  and she should have stopped him, or more so herself. she should. from the hazy cast to her eyes, she was going to regret this in the morning, just because it's him. she was going to regret…if she remembered at all just how divine his lips felt against hers and the taste of his whiskey mouth.  it should have been easy, because this boy, this boy in front of her is nothing of what she wants.  but she can't, too caught up in her own lies as some sort of well-spoken and experienced whore that he wanted to 'try.' "and i desire you.  which is why you know i'm not fucking around when i say that i'm not leading you on about giving you something you've probably been making yourself wet over since third year."  the brunette declared with all the confidence of the seductress she pretended to be. 

eyes closing in ecstasy as her lips sought his own. her body responded with all due enthusiasm to his touch, kissing him with a new, overwhelming sense of urgency. her hands had instinctively went to his waist, pressing herself against his hips under his suggestive touch, bringing his hand directly under her warmth, keeping his heated gaze with her own. but it wasn't guilt that would pull her away from his confident, self-assured strong hold of her frame though. it was the promise  of a compromise.  "i'm not asking for much, callahan.  just a piece of your mind for my peace of mind."  she coaxed  him coolly, desperate to chip away at his stone.  "tell me a secret.  something you don't like about yourself."  a difficult answer to fulfill considering who he was, but definitely one that merited a night with her and the solemn gift she was so carelessly about to throw to him.

[Austin Callahan]

Even in his current addled state he could not disguise his surprise to learn that she had little to no idea that he found her to be a thing, or person, of interest. It might have been hard to decipher at times, through his lack of effort to explain things in a tactful manner, or because he often went out of his way to criticize her decisions or general demeanor, but none of this meant that he didn't find her to be fascinating in a style all of her own. In fact, he would have expected the opposite from her, even when she seemed to lack perhaps the convincing charm of his ego. He always thought that she had guessed his interest in her - who else was so belittled by him for no reason whatsoever? It was obvious to many others, including that of their impatient professors who found their lessons so frequently disturbed by stupid remarks and immature behaviour. "Of course you're entertaining to me, Conelly. Why would I waste my time on you if you... weren't?"

With her fingers pressed into his forehead, he blinked back at her, almost forgetting to wear his characteristic smugness, subsiding into a sign of bemusement at her statement as though this also was something he had never considered previously. "Are you... scared of people knowing you, Trixy?" He dared breathe the dangerous question, the one that she'd caused him to speculate upon since the moment her words had left her mouth mere seconds ago. "Because it seems like you don't want someone to... know you. Or..." he guessed abruptly, sounding almost intellectual in his additional estimation of her present mood, "You don't want me to know you?" He couldn't help but wonder if this was in some way a personal concept, that she wasn't as wary about expressing her inner self to the world as she was right now in front of him. And yet she seemed very much open, according to what he was comprehending during this session anyhow. He wasn't entirely certain that he'd understood her comments completely, but he was now too self-involved in why or why not she'd especially be unwilling to share private information with him and what it was that she might be withholding from him. It was evident that he was an open person, but, by the standards of his situation, he presumed that she saw his openness for what it was - keeping certain information to himself.

The confusion with this girl didn't appear to end. Now she seemed to have changed from ranting about how she wasn't what she looked to what her personal definitions of what was love, or something very similar to this. He'd sort of drifted off into his own thoughts, leaving him roughly conscious of what she was incessantly lecturing about, but missing a large proportion of the talk. It was only when he picked up on what she supposedly believed 'desire' to be that he became thoroughly accustomed to what she'd probably spent several long minutes discussing with herself. It was strange, he thought, that she'd bother attempting to correct his comprehension of such terms when his attention span waned in even the most sober of times. Did she really believe he'd manage to sit through a conversation on what qualified as different modes of emotions? If she found him to be ridiculously uneducated on what made her tick, he couldn't believe that she wasn't aware of his own motivations.

It was probably best for both of them that he either agree or disagree with her sentiments, sensing further speechless moments ahead if he wasn't following her train of thought. "I still say... it's a mixture of both. I both lust after you, and desire you. See. Perfectly compatible." Of course, here he was clearly talking about the words, not their own compatibility, never giving the latter any thought.

But, in those few blissful moments of craving her touch, before receiving it, he found himself drowning once again in a mixture of sensual and drink-related thoughts, not caring if he remained speechless if she was ceasing his words with this newly discovered talent of hers. She was correct, of course, in her assertions. He'd wanted her, desired her even, since he could remember being attracted to the opposite sex, as long as he cared to remember. He didn't think to stop and wonder, why now? As most people would be prone to do, except perhaps not whilst far from moderation. Far too caught in the moment to discontinue it with anxiety, since he did not suffer from it regardless, or to consider what or why things were happening, he was more than content to match her every move with his own. A small moan of elation escaped his lips before he was able to restrain himself, savoring what, in her words, he'd been 'dreaming about since the age of thirteen.'

So much so, he was far from happy to have his ecstasy ruined, in his view, by a few more words from her. "It's nice that you know what you want, Conelly. I also know what I want... and you're spoiling the moment." Giving a swift eye roll, he scoffed lightly under his breath, "Why is it important or relevant to know what I think about myself? You must know that I'm overly fond of my personality. I don't focus on the negative, because I'm not... a whiny bitch. I'd say that's my weakness in society's view. People often like to whine about everything that ever bothers them. You'd know, right?" He let out another breath, pausing, as he shrugged, grinning. "If you must know, I dislike my low tolerance for alcohol. But, it's a secret." The last few words were evidently meant to be whispered, but he failed to achieve the effect he'd been aiming at, being far too drunk to lower his voice adequately.

[Beatrix Conelly]

she shouldn't have been there, shouldn't have come and chosen to hide in a cupboard of all places, shouldn't have been so dangerously close to pompous, drunken boy, analyzing every line, every crease that was made in his face in that moment. she felt no guilt or shame in desiring him, she voiced it openly. nothing hindered her from wanting him, prohibited her from taking him. he would be hers until she decided that he wasn't. it would be his punishment for wanting to do the same to her and making an attempt at it, for trying to get on the inside with malicious intentions. it wouldn't be the same sort of possession she had previously over other members of the opposite gender, but similar. he was unlike any other man that she had conquered before. he had gaul.  "why should i allow you to know me is a better question, teener."  laughing lightly, she played with collar of his shirt absent minded before looking back up at him through dark lashes and her boozed charlatan stare.  "eh, cupid?" she taunted, smirking and pushing his chin up away from her mouth.  what a silly, drunk predictable fool he was.  he amused her more like this, in his less infuriating state.  "are you tryin' to tell me something?  d'you wanna be my friend or some shit?"  shaking her head at the idea, her index finger dropped to the dark stain that had formed from the spilled liquid.

his admission surprised her, to know that he was possible of feeling anything besides or in addition to the simple lust and irritation that laced whatever bizarre relationship it was that they had.  it was one thing to put words in his mouth in boldly declaring that he did in fact desire her, but to hear him repeat it back was entirely satisfying.  unfortunately, she wouldn't remember the brief lapse.  inhaling sharply at his mention of, 'perfectly compatible,' the teen eyed him suspiciously with a furrowed brow.  it was incredible the amount of power simple, easy words had over someone.  it was supposed to be her edge, her secret weapon; not giving a shit.  this was the last thing she needed, almost blushing in his presence like some third year hufflepuff twat.  no, she needed to stay in the icy place where it was much more comfortable. her laughter dissipated for a moment, including her calm, confident veneer, looking to him in silence.  "you're delusional." she whispered, scoffing almost inaudibly under her breath, attempting to brush off what had been planted in her head.  "the day you and i are compatible is a cold day in hell."  with a forced giggle, she cast her gaze to stare at the handle of a worn school broomstick, quiet in her useless concentration.

no matter her cold demeanor, near-diestic beauty and narcissism, her quick wit and bravado, perhaps she was as stupid as a hufflepuff.  after all, she was bargaining, or more so selling something so precious and protected all for a secret, for an upper edge in their on-going banter.  but it wasn't a bargain.  no matter the 'secret,' he presented, if it was lame, unentertaining, boring, or moronic, he would get what he desired.  "because i want to be fair." she answered very suddenly, almost snapping at him, dropping her lily white hand from his trousers, stepping onto his feet instead so that they were even while face-to-face.  "your secret is bullshit!" she voiced her discontent loudly, kicking her heel back to purposely take down a bucket of worn quaffles, huffing in his face, "tell me something real, an experience, you moron."  beatrix hissed, azure optics ablaze in her sudden fury, but apologizing for her tiny indiscretion with a quick, heated kiss.  "quit being a brat, you're boring me.  tell me something real, or i'll leave."  she waged dangerously, "maybe you should focus on the negative."  biting her tongue, she knocked her head against the back of the door, pulling him against her.  

"i want it to be you, callahan."  he wouldn't understand.  in all cases, in the end she was something more than a common hogwarts whore parousing the marble hallways.  to have her first time be with a kind boy was pointless when she wished to throw it away.  she needed the cold and bitter, it was in the marrow of her bones.  he trembled at her touch, and that was the most that she deserved.  "you're just making it hard on yourself."

[Austin Callahan]

She evidently either was clueless to the important query he'd posed, or else was trying to best to appear as such, because he wasn't bothered about her idea of people needing to earn a place in her heart, her trust or whatever else she commanded, because that wasn't what he cared about. He didn't want to be her friend and he'd definitely never tried to be her friend, for a friend was supposed to continue acting as though they had any interest in your problems for however long the two of you remained as close. So, she had missed his point entirely. What he wanted to know was whether this treatment was restricted only to himself. He'd previously guessed as much and she'd managed to avoid the topic, by editing the question ever so slightly, which had given him more reason to believe his theory was correct. Why else answer a different question? "No.." he began, shaking his head enigmatically, as though disappointed in some way by her lack of ability to follow his train of thought. "I want to know if you have something against me personally knowing things about you. I don't care about anyone else, why should I?" He hadn't thought it necessary to clarify this well-defined aspect of his character anymore, since he had presumed, perhaps wrongly, that she'd picked this piece of information up in previous conversations. "What is it about me... or you, that makes you unwilling to divulge facts to me especially?"

And so the mood changes seemed likely to keep happening, he noted with a grin. It seemed that nothing about this situation was phasing him in a serious way, since the same look of self-assuredness remained despite everything else. Or perhaps he was merely as annoying as he'd always aimed to be. Another full movement of his head as he openly dared to disagree with her claims of his sanity, to come from a person like her, who was not mentally 'all there' as he was prone to highlighting on every circumstantial meeting, he wasn't prepared to accept her flimsy diagnosis of his own emotional state. "I'm not delusional, Trix. I'd say... histrionic maybe. Most definitely narcissistic. And somewhat anti-social. Potentially a sociopath. But not a psychopath like yourself. Out of your league in the unbalanced society." Of course, he'd figured out at this point that she'd managed to misinterpret something else he'd previously mentioned, causing him to wonder how she was still standing, if she was suffering from such serious hearing loss. But then perhaps it was entirely selective, as in the case before - he wouldn't be surprised if this was the cause.

Now he played her presumptions over in his head, he wasn't certain that her misunderstanding of the concept he'd been trying to explain was totally absurd. It sounded it, at first contemplation, but he'd long considered them being sexually compatible, so why not otherwise? This deep moment was not long interrupted by him snickering at his own thoughts, apparently as unable to picture a scenario where the two could tolerate, or cooperate sufficiently. It was set in stone that she was his willing victim to his ridiculous behaviour, the way he took satisfaction in her exasperation, her embarrassment and her anger towards him. Hardly a healthy relationship and not one that he had even thought about, prior to her extreme irritation at the very idea that he might believe that there was anything other than what they already had.

"You want to be fair?" he replied, looking rather suspicious of her new motives in this situation. But, when she was pressed so close to his own body, could he afford to express this doubt? Even in a different place, it seemed unlikely that he'd just tell her about his insecurities or insignificant doubts because he wasn't that type of person even amongst the people he truly trusted. It mattered not, however, as she'd snapped back almost as soon as she'd spoken, leaving him more than a little frustrated at being relieved of her touch which he guessed was part of her own satisfaction. Growling inwardly at the dilemma that lay before him, he was inclined to give her a chance of getting what she wanted, since they'd decided at some point he couldn't recall to be 'fair.' "Calm down, Conelly," he expressed, still amused by the ease at which he seemed to get to her. "I'll give you a secret, in return for something that you know I want. But, for your information, that last thing was entirely true. Why would I lie to you?"

Hence, the sociopath possibility, with his talent for turning on the charm when he thought himself to require it, but along with her mental stability, neither had been tested and confirmed. "If you could give me a clue, what sort of secret you're hoping to get out of me? Because I have to disappoint you if you're expecting child abuse, or illegitimate children." Despite everything, he still failed to acknowledge that he was only, as she had said, removing his own chances of getting what he wanted, but he seemed unable to stop himself from mocking her still. "But, if you oblige my conditions, I'll tell you anything you want to know. In reason."

[Beatrix Conelly]

divulging facts.  he wanted to know her.  she chuckled at his persistence, laughing at his continuing prying into her psyche that he still claimed to disdain so much in his teasing.  staring into his lovely, dark eyes she smiled at him with her own pale ones, bleary and bloodshot, all smeared with black, and laughing at him more because it all seemed very unreal to her.  knowing someone was a liability, but even more so if that someone knew her.  why confess her phobias, tics, and histories to a boy she barely knew or liked?  and maybe she would have rewarded him with a secret had it not been for his fucking arrogance that even ten pints in, managed to stifle her.  "can't you answer that question yourself, teener?"  but really, it shouldn't have been surprising to him.  it was completely logical that she would never open herself up to someone as magnetic and yet as selfish and irritating as him."you've made your intentions quite clear to me.  why bother getting to know each other? i'm sure nothing about me would truly interest someone like you."  and what a hypocrite she was, but perhaps she would call him one in a more sober state of mind.  but for a boy who claimed to only be invested in her flesh, he seemed to want to delve deeper.

he was such a joker though, and continued to send her into fits upon fits of giggles and the occasional drunken snort in the cramped cupboard.  oh, how very delusional he was, and he didn't even realize it, which was to be expected, beatrix thought to herself, having been well-acquainted with the world of modern muggle psychology from an early age.  for a moment she felt a sudden rush of rage.  nothing had particularly angered her from what he said, but she still wanted to tell him to fuck off.  although cloudy, her eyes were still filled with venom and barbed wire as he continued to self-diagnose.  he made no sense.  nothing really made sense to her in that moment, but she knew that his drunken psycho-babble truly made no sense.

 raising a brow at him with pursed lips, she shook her head, "for an addle-brained pureblood, you seem to know your muggle psychology terms, callahan.  have you been researchin'?" she sneered, but then sniggered.  yes, out of his league, she nodded along as he spoke.  the opinion that she was unfit for his favor still didn't seem to stop him from wanting her.  despite his convictions and indoctrination, he spent a great deal of time with her and it had been him to always entrap her, corner her, and claim her with his lips, whether the affections were reciprocated or not.  "you're confusing." she muttered simply with a furrowed brow.

but perhaps this opportunity would leave her less confused.  or at least maybe it could be a confirmation of things she suspected.  she wanted a secret, but more so had the idea of demanding the truth from him, whether she would remember it or not if he dared to confess.  her patience was running thin, and the closet was giving more and more of a claustrophobic feeling as the time passed and nothing happened to her satisfaction.  yes, fair, she enthusiastically nodded her head to the question.  "i'm going to be frank with you, austin." she warned him, but frowned, her head sinking for a moment before snapping back up and in a flutter of eyelashes, giving him a dazzling, white grin, giving him more of her mad, musical laughter and gripping onto his shirt, pulling him very close to her.  "cut it out!" she suddenly snapped ferociously at him, having enough of his witty remarks and comebacks, bringing her hands to either side of his face, and staring at him long and hard for a moment.  "i want you to tell me..." she paused, licking her lips, as they just barely grazed his own as she spoke, "i want you tell me why i'm here.  why you find me wherever i am.  why you say things to upset me and why we fucking waste most of our time together."  inhaling sharply, she furrowed her brow at him, pressing her thumbs into his temples, as if by somehow doing so, she could transmit the message to him better. "don't say because you want to fuck me, i know when you're lyin'."  closing her eyes for a moment, she remained silent for a while.  it was the only secret she desired, even if evident to most students in the castle.  it still needed to be confirmed, and only then was she bold enough to ask for it.  "say it, and...  you can have what you want."

[Austin Callahan]

He wasn't completely convinced that he preferred making her laugh to making her frustrated, or irate upon hearing his words, or sensing his glances in less than desirable places. It was in ill taste and even he was aware of this fact, but he couldn't stop himself from taunting her, regardless of their positions or situations at any given time. He relished her irritation especially, even more so than the average person's, because she repeatedly gave him what he wanted, or at least part of what he wanted from her - the sign that he was still adept at getting under her skin. Of course this wasn't a healthy desire to want from someone else, but then nothing between them had ever been 'normal' or alike to the average student's. Because, even if he'd never told her so, or even confirmed it, it wasn't difficult to figure out that something pertaining to this one girl was captivating to him also. Something that secretly, or not so secretly to the common observer, was getting under his skin. "You've completely misunderstood the question again, Trixabelle. your little mind must really be slowing you down in this situation. I didn't mention wanting to know you, I want to know why you don't want me to know you." Despite possessing a mild curiosity for certain things about his rival, he had reached a level of self-importance which made him unable to believe that he didn't already know most of her life history. She was, after all, in his head, another Mudblood.

So, in one way, she was correct. He had worked out in his own mind why he thought that she didn't care for him knowing in great detail about her or her habits, but this was once again steered by prejudice against people born of a different blood type to himself. For instance, he was certain that one of the reasons why she didn't want him to know about her was that she believed he'd use the information he gained against her, which was potentially true. He was the breed of person to do such a thing, but in the event he trusted the person and felt they also returned this feeling, he'd never broach such subjects for personal gain. Of course, while many potential emotions had surfaced between himself and Beatrix Conelly, he wouldn't refer to them as trusting one another. There was also the concept that she had raised - why would he care about what made her tick when he infamously claimed that he despised anything to do with her blood type?

Something that was called into question by herself after his 'slip-up' mentioning several Muggle psychology terms. Of course, she was bound to be familiar with these words, but being a pureblood and supposedly mentally stable in all forms, he had no cause to know what any of the phrases meant. Clearly, he'd made a mistake in letting her know that he was somewhat more familiar with her type's terminology than he would ever soberly admit. Unfortunately, in this situation, he found himself caring less and less about the things that would usually matter entirely. "No," he instantly denied, having created a perfect explanation for his unexpected knowledge that reassured him as soon as he spoke. "There was a girl once. She was obsessed with it, only too willing to self-diagnose and extend that fantasy to other people." True, but largely exaggerated to prove his point, as most things were in Austin's world. However, despite all, he held a strong personal belief that he should never lie. Questionable, perhaps, when he held such a strong conviction for mocking people on a daily basis, but lying was something he found offensive in all forms. He'd rather be called 'sadistic' than a liar, strangely opposite morals for a teenager of his age, or indeed the average person.

He briefly wondered whether she was conscious of her ability to create intense moments of desire amongst the opposite gender, but a few moments of idle thought was enough to give him his answer. Of course she was. She was a user, but in a different sense to himself. Was that a strange similarity he'd just noticed? He shrugged it off, looking in all parts as though he was only concentrating on one thing - the very same thing he'd made a deal for. Now he felt himself slipping further away from sobriety, he couldn't even disguise that it was that same thing he still wanted, above everything else that was happening. It seemed to dominate his entire mind as he let his eyes wander over her ever-appealing body. Finally, he seemed to snap back to reality, with her next few words. "I can think of so many other things I'd rather you be with me, Conelly." Far too soon, his arrogance had inflected his tone once more, leaving no doubt to what he was indicating towards, with his carelessly chosen drunk mutterings. "And I think that particular sentence would have been better if it stopped after the first few words. The 'I want you' bit..." He grinned, running a solitary hand through his hair, as his eyes drifted back, not thinking to disguise his glances at all. "You're here because you're drunk..." He paused, another grin carrying his speech. "And I'm drunk."

He wasn't comprehending her question much at all, if truth be told. All he managed to decipher was that she was now demanding to know why they found themselves in the company of each other a little too often to be coincidence, although some of these meetings were in fact just that - coincidences. So, maybe he did understand some of her loud concerns. "But, if you really want to know... you're very predictable, Trix. It's easy for anyone to find you. I guess nobody else wants to." Still attempting to press her buttons even now, despite everything that had passed his lips, being prepared to admit things that he'd never tell anyone else, merely for a second chance at that pale skin. The second part of her rant, however, surprised even him. "Because we're not fucking. In any sense and that's the bit that gets to me on a daily basis. It's the main reason, even if you want something deeper and fanciful."

But, he thought privately, there was perhaps another that he'd never previously considered confiding in anyone, least of all her. His head, swirling with alcohol and that same angsty desire led him to ignore some of her words, stopping her mouth with another kiss. Intense, it might be described as. Somewhat tantalizing - the taste of her lips once again clouding his judgement. But even more so, was the touch of her skin beneath his fingers, as he reached towards his goal, risking his hands to pull her shirt over her head. "But, if you want another excuse, I see you as something I need. The more I'm denied, the more interest it creates. Someone equal to me in wit. Someone... equal." A shocking admission, in parts, considering his long-term vendetta against her blood and anyone else sharing this unhygienic quality.

[Beatrix Conelly]

beatrix conelly was a drunk, but she wasn't stupid, nor entirely oblivious to the contemptible intentions of testosterone filled boys that roamed the hallways.  even more so, after spending an unfortunate number of years getting to know the callahan boy and yet refusing to divulge information on herself and her own histories, she knew exactly who he was.  there was no sensitive, caring individual behind the sneer and haughty laughter.  someone who took pleasure in hurting others, a bit young to be a sadist, but he had always taken pleasure in her torture.  and perhaps she felt the same.  it was only natural, to destroy the one thing you wanted.  or maybe she had it backwards.  maybe the things that you wanted destroyed you in the end, which was why she wouldn't allow him to know her.  smiling at him, she poked his nose lightly, "if i told you, i'd have to kill you." she finally responded simply.  as drunk as she was, she would never willingly allow someone like him to spit roast her drug-addled, fucked up little brain until there was nothing left.  he would enjoy it far too much.  

she hadn't meant to let it all slip so very suddenly, the barrage of prying questions that really spoke more of her so-called feelings than they did of his. his lascivious responses were as to be expected, drawing her to bite down hard on her bottom lip to prevent venom from spilling out her mouth, immediately disappointed.   how could she show hurt and disappointment for a boy whom she never should have had those strange feelings for anyways?  she wouldn't.  she knew that the truth was painful, despite wanting something, 'deeper and fanciful,' as he had described, like gunpowder in an old gun, exploding in her face.  she was humiliated at first thinking back on her foolishness, but too drunk, or more so apathetic to care, or maybe she did care, as her lips were pressed into a flat line at his admission.  what really was so special between her legs?  she wasn't sure.  contradictory to all her vices and 'adult,' ways, she was still an inexperienced child.    maybe she wasn't special.  he would be the first to boldly explore where no man had gone before, right there in the broom closet.  what little innocence remained in her, she planned on allowing him to murder, because she no longer cared.

"is that it?" she asked quietly, under the raw smolder of her piercing, pale stare.  "you're just an appetite with all your want, want, want."  she slurred, with an infliction of desperation in her voice.  his interrupting kiss proved her point and stopped her for a moment, going through the motions and allowing him to shed her shirt without protest.  lowering her head, her warm, moist breath lingered on his neck, relishing the sudden intimacy with a heavy sigh before her mouth began to trail up his jawline softly.  "would you die if you stopped wanting?  if you stopped being so greedy?" the girl nearly whispered against his warm flesh, long lashes sweeping shut for a moment, "i think you would."  the young minx finished pointedly but then carefully went over his next words which would later only be interpreted as 'i need you,' when she was sober, and be used to be held against him.  

in reality, it was yet another remark on his fascination and obsession of wanting to bed her, but obviously she had misinterpreted it.  it wasn't exactly the answer that she had been looking for, but still mildly pleasing to the ears that he viewed her as an equal, which went against most of his previous brainwashed prejudice against her.  equal in wit, she thought over, pursing her lips as she considered him, full of encumbering thoughts.  for once, the pureblood had surprised her.  he had somewhat obliged her, for which he would be rewarded, but for a while, she stared at him, poorly attempting to memorize his words, giving him a look with a mix of curiosity, lust, and judgement.  she might have returned his sentiment, but she wouldn't vocalize it, instead choosing to pull him tighter to her with confidence that wasn't fit for an unpracticed sixteen year old, her fingers trailing down his chest in a butterfly path until they began clumsily pulling at his trousers.  with her nose brushing against his cheek,s he inhaled the sensual mix of his alluring scent and the biting alcohol from his breath, answering him in a kiss that could only be described as surprisingly tender.