loaded god complex

The Ravenclaw couldn’t even reach his wand now, his fingers locked so tightly around his tormentors arms. Gripping the sleeves. He didn’t have to look back. He could feel the empty space whispering through his ear. Hear the echoes below him as he made pleading and blubbering sounds for help. To be pulled back to safety.

And Isaac cried out, shrieked as he was shoved off. His wand had began to slide from his pocket as his legs caught on the railing, and Isaac scrambled for it. His weight and momentum carried the rest of him down to plunge to his death. At least he thought so until he felt someone grip the edge of his robes, which then swung him under the landing to ram into the wall underneath, where he in humanly bounced off onto the cold stone stairs.

Isaac groaned in pain. He felt dizzy and sick to his stomach. Ruby blood dripped from his nose. It was probably broken from slamming into the wall. Well Darren got his wish. The whole world around him was nothing but blurry, doubled, sometimes even tripled shapes that floated around. Black spots filled his vision and he lay there moaning. A faint ringing filled his ears and his limbs felt all tingly.

One minute he hands were fast around the boy's collar and the next, he was grasping at nothing. Rhodes was falling over the railing, this tiny figure hurtling down on the lower landing, a sickening thud followed his descent. 

The goon that pushed the boy over was grinning like it was fucking Christmas, he was bouncing on the heels of his feet, looking at Darren as if he'd throw him a bone or something.

So bloody stupid.

Darren's face darkened with rage, and he all but snarled at his gang.

"Bloody fucks, can't you do anything right?" He pushed past a housemate and took the stairs two steps at a time. He reached Rhodes in record time, and prodded at his still figure with his toe.

He cannot be dead. He mustn't be. What would he say to his Father, then?

"Get up, you dimwit." spat Darren although by the looks of things, it was probably the last thing the boy could manage at the moment.

He proceeded to kneel by the boy's side, pulling his wand from his waistband. Blue eyes flicked over the other's boy, searching for injuries. His nose was smashed, and a pint of blood was pouring from it.

"Hey hey hey, fucking stay with me, Rhodes." He instructed him, panic settling in. He looked up and saw his so-called friends disappearing one by one away from the banister. Fear shone through in their eyes, hell, he'd have done the same if he was in trouble. But he couldn't possibly leave the chap alone, possibly choking on his own blood.

"Where do you hurt?" Not waiting for answer, he flicked his wand in the boy's direction and muttered 'mobilicorpus' several times, nothing happened.

"Shit, shit, SHIT." 

He heard footsteps behind him. Desperation pulling at him, Darren began to lift the other, attempting to loop arm around his shoulder.

As far as avoiding his friends, Hugo would say he’s doing pretty well. At all costs he’d avoid the common room. Even if it meant going crazy as he cooped himself in his own room he would. 

Rain was pattering against the window and the sound was actually rather soothing. It was helping all the stress that filled his body subside as he was calming himself down just by staring out the window. Every rumble was like some tension releasing from his body. The ginger didn’t know if this was some weird sort of break he wanted or the fact he spent long hours in his room that something was prompting him to go outside. And Hugo was going to do just that.

The fifth year walked out of the room and down the staircase right into the common room. Even with such speed as he tried to make out Darren beckoned him for a chat. As much as Hugo wanted to defy the older Slytherin he couldn’t. 

"I haven't seen you since Sunday." continued the young man, eager to stretch the tension building between them. He could feel some animosity there, a wave of uneasiness on the redhead's part. It was only expected. After all, he'd all but suggested something so terribly pernicious.

Darren turned his gaze towards the other boy, calculating and hypercritical. He was about to make a damning accusation. 

There were many events that had occurred prior to this discussion. They weren't events as much as they were moments, quick lapses of time that Darren had happened to witness.

Weeks before, he'd started noticing how the Weasley was paying a certain boy - he wasn't sure who, the latter had been covered by a pillar - much more attention than he deserved. Perhaps the fault lay with the stolen glances they gave each other when they thought nobody was looking. It was intriguing, something he could use as leverage should the need arise, but Darren was uncertain and needed more proof.

It came to him in the form of a journal, the leather-bound jotter had been crammed cleverly behind the headboard of Hugo's four-poster bed. It confirmed his suspicions, and Darren only thought it natural to bring up the topic with Hugo in the presence of his own peers.

He wouldn't dodge him so easily as before, Darren thought. Being brought up in a traditional family, despite the modernistic era, Darren knew not how to react to boys fancying other boys. It was unimaginable to someone who'd been closeted from liberal, contemporary viewpoints.

Darren was smug about it, too, the damn schmuck thinking he'd one-upped everyone else by staying true to this fact. He was a load of bullshit.

"Careful, there." He smiled at her friendliness, she was kind of pushing it towards heavy flirting, but he didn't mind the attention once in a while. Hell, he could probably use some that day, and of course, he was utterly grateful to Arabella, appreciative even, for her effort.

He chuckled at her little tale, agreeing with her. Trips to Hogsmeade were one of things he looked forward to. The Castle felt like a prison sometimes, filled with milling thoughts and familiar places, it was nice to escape every now and then. Drink to forget, like someone once said.

"You should let me know when you can't go down to town. I could get them for you, doll. We could get them together." He shrugged and with a half smile, they reached the Slytherin common room.

Almost immediately, Darren slumped onto the sofa, his bookbag thudding to the floor, moaning in exaggeration as his head hit a soft pillow. He rolled over to face the girl, a lazy grin snaking onto his face as he patted the space next to him.

However, his mention of her doing his laundry made her through her head back and laugh. “I’m not touching your already-been-worn knickers, for one thing.” After calming down for a moment, she looked back at him, putting the soles of her feet together. “And for another, I’m sure you are perfectly capable. Strapping, young man such as yourself should take pride in doing his own laundry.” She winked before arching her back, shutting her eyes, cupping her feet with both hands and angling her head back again.

Darren chuckled with her before dropping the ridiculous joke altogether. He was pleased, however, to hear her laughing with him, or at him - didn't really matter.

He nearly rolled his eyes at her absurd instructions - it sounded even more wishy-washy than Divination, and everyone knew just what a load of crock Divination was. Then again, he would sooner find himself reading tea leaves than attempt a futile search for his 'centre'.

Nevertheless, Darren mimicked her gestures, feeling a quite silly as he did so, but he tried, nevertheless. It seemed that their session wouldn't last for long.

"The only negative energy I'll let loose is coming out of my arse."

He almost chortled, but reminded himself that he wasn't designed to be funny. The 16-year old grinned at Zinnia, then plopped down on blanket, opting to watch her instead. He was secretly thankful that he need not go through at that 'find your centre' crap.

"As well as it ought to be, Miss Boot." Darren sighed, propping himself an arm. He didn't find his life entirely interesting. Everything had sort of fallen into a seamless, boring loop.

"In fact, it's incredibly dull. Is yours any better?"

Well, that came out a little harsher that it ought to be. Zinnia knew what he meant, hopefully.

He couldn’t help but wince and flinch. Each slur and name was like a whip that cracked against him. So full of malice and hatred he would have almost preferred the sticks and stones. And it was in the middle of this that Isaac felt the breath knocked out of him. Felt his back hit the stone hard. There would be some bruising there. Felt Darren pin him in, escape being the death drop behind him. His heart thudded so loudly he feared Darren could hear it.

Hot, sticky breath on the Ravenclaw’s ear made him shudder out of fear and skin crawl with utter disgust. What sharp, slithering and dangerous words that rolled off the boy’s tongue. He tried to wiggle out, squirm away, but only made a frightened whimper as he began to feel the empty space behind himself becoming larger.

Darren didn't make puns very often and while he learned from the best pun master, he couldn't say that his own were well-delivered. In fact, if Zinnia were to hear him sputtering such nonsense, no doubt she'd be cringing at him.

The boy laughed inwardly at his own demise, how hard was he trying to be the bad guy here? Too hard, it seemed. He knew that he was notorious for his archetypal villainy, and something the fact would get to his head, blow it up to the point that he actually believed it. Other times, he deemed himself too cartoonish to actually play the part.

He edged the boy forward, fully aware that he was lifting the poor Ravenclaw off of his feet. Pale, long fingers clutched at the boy's collar, his fist slightly shaking as gravity pulled at them both. If he angled them more acutely to the right, they could tip over and fall to their deaths. Darren clicked his tongue. 

"I thought it'd be much obvious, really."

This was his favourite part. They always begged him at the point of desperation, not knowing that the more they pleaded for mercy, the less likely was he to grant it. 

 "Don't tell me what-"

A dark shadow blew past him, he didn't know whose it was - what he did know was that he was no longer gripping Rhode's collar. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"Thought I oughtta do ye a favour, Flint." One of his cronies must've done it. Fuck. Trust the lot to just stand back and watch, did he? Not anymore.

"You bloody idiot."

Darren leaned over the railing and blindly grasped for something, anything.

The whole idea of an arranged marriage baffled her. Parents were supposed to want their kids to be happy and arranging who they’d be spending the rest of their life with didn’t seem fair.

"Oh don’t worry." She smiled. "I’ll keep it a secret for you. Besides I don’t think it’s really secret worthy. What teenage boy would rather be talking up his future bachelorettes than be enjoying single life with whatever girl he can find."

"Thank you, Veronica."

Somehow, it was quite a relief, if a bit disappointing, to know that not everybody knew about his predicament.

He hadn't considered how he might view his problem from another perceptive but talking with Veronica had certainly prompted him to do so. There must be some sort of way to turn his situation around. 

He could still get out of this wedding scot-free. Nearly scot-free. He knew his father's wrath would drag him back from even the deepest corners of hell. He looked down at his scuffed shoes and smiled grimly.

Adjusting the strap of his bag on his shoulder, he asked,

"Say, If you were to encounter a similar situation, what would you have done in my place?"

Not that he really wanted her advice.

She sat herself up and put the soles of her feet together and looked up at him, squinting to keep the sun out of her eyes. “You ought to try it sometime.” If she had it her way, there would be a yoga class taught on campus. Nearly everyone here could use a little loosening up. With a sigh, she put her hands on her lap. “That’s what you came over here to do, right? Join me?” A smirk found its way onto her face. “Because I’d be oh-so delighted to have you, as always.” 

Muggles were known for their gadgets, and he'd heard about those 'high-tech cameras' some muggleborns were always raving about. He wished he had one just so he could tinker with it, then again, if his father found out, he'd surely be disowned.

"Beautiful." scratching his cheek as he checked out her figure. He whistled. In all honestly, she looked pretty damned good. Sometimes he wondered why she didn't have a boyfriend. Or at least, she didn't seem to. Highly unlikely, he'd probably scare off whoever dared to hurt her. Hell, even Kalub would help him beat the bastard up. 

"Oh, why the fuck not?" He decided, his arms akimbo, he walked to the spot beside her. He didn't have anything planned anyway, might as well as spend his day with Zinnia.

"Scoot, Z. I don't want bugs to be crawling into my crown jewels." He scrunched up his nose, and with a sigh, flopped belly-side up onto the cloth laid out on the ground. 

He copied her movements as best as he could, although he couldn't help but feel very stupid doing so. Muggles invented the weirdest, albeit creative and somewhat useful, shit ever. 

Darren nodded in understanding. Once again, he was reminded that she was going through something unimaginable, every fucking month. Merlin, if it were him he'd have gone crazy by now. He looked at Zinnia and admired her inner strength. It made him want to be someone better, then again, that would only last for a day or two and then he'd revert back to the scum-sucking bastard everyone knew he was. Perhaps that was why they were such good friends, they brought out the best - or the worst - in each other. At least, Darren thought so.

The 16-year old chuckled when she referred to her abdominals. 

"Hmm." Rubbing his chin, appearing to actually consider her offer. It was fun to annoy the hell out of her, it made him feel somewhat better that she could still laugh at his stupid jokes.

Isaac reached out to try to take the book back. Rip it from the other’s grip quickly but it was already over his shoulder and being giggled at by the goons behind Darren. He doubted he’d get it back anytime soon. Even then, most likely not whole.

Darren Flint and his gang were always on him. He’d heard of blood status issues, but hadn’t dealt with them until he’d ran into this group of Slytherins back in second year. It didn’t help that Isaac fit the pureblood’s stereotypes of a typical muggleborn or any other mudblood. Not very able with a wand. Or his own strength for that matter. He could probably get a good punch to one if he wanted, but that’d lead to bigger problems for him. It kept things from going too far.

Fun was not the word Isaac would use. It worried him.

"I-I’m… I’m fine, I um, I’m all good." He stuttered out, giving the older boy an uneasy smile. "I know h-how to uh, have fun."

Godric, the last time Darren had used that sentence, they’d hung him in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom by his ankle. He’d had to deal with her crying and her signature well, moaning for at least an hour. Had he gone any longer his head might have exploded from all the blood rushing to it.

He stalked forwards, his goons edging in, their tittering soon gave way to cruel name-calling and hateful slurs. Of course, there were those that preferred to watch instead of joining in.

"I think you need some guidance, pretty boy."

With a rough shove, Darren ushered Isaac towards the railing and tried to hold him there. Pushing him over was no fun, and while they were a decent height from the ground floor, he reckoned there'd be too much of a mess down if he chose to let him go. No, Darren liked to think that he had some inkling of kindness within him.

"You'd make a pretty nice colour on those floors." The sixth year said wistfully, leaning in to whisper in the boy's ear. He could smell the fear coming off of him. 

Soreness was something that Zinnia powered through every day without complaint; she knew that crying about wouldn’t help relieve anything, but silence didn’t lessen her pain either. So when Victoire gave her the medication that numbed it, she began to try to find ways to make the pain even less. And today, she was attempting that thing that she had seen so many muggles do that seemed to keep them extremely relaxed - yoga. Given that it was the weekend and no classes were scheduled, she had put on her plain clothes. All she put on were a one-size-too-big Hex Girls t-shirt - they were her favorite witch band - and loose-fitting shorts, pulling the drawstrings into a knot so they wouldn’t fall. She just didn’t want the cloth to cling to her legs and show off her figure.

She went out into the grass and laid down a picnic blanket. Zinnia took off her shoes and stood on the blanket taking a deep breath before she lifted her foot and put it to the inside of her opposite thigh, going into the tree pose. Once she was balanced, she shut her eyes and slowly raised her arms, inhaling until her hands met above her head. She exhaled through her mouth softly. If she were honest with herself, she knew that it was the breathing that calmed her down, but the stretching made her sore muscles feel better. Both of them together felt better than anything she had ever felt before. After a few breaths in that cycle, she opened her eyes and laid down on the blanket, not taking note of who was in her surroundings at the moment. What people thought of her or her actions was of no consequence.

Apparently, this weekend was unlike any other. For once, the group agreed to disband, opting to get their errands done individually. While he preferred the safety and power that came with numbers, Darren found himself unexpectedly liking his solitude.

He ambled across the courtyard, his hands in his pockets, face up to the sky as sunlight bathed his skin. He wondered why some professors were bent on keeping them indoors when there were days just like these.

The air was warm and sweet, and you could hear birds chirping in the distance, the smell of wildflowers heavy in the faint breeze.

A slender figure caught his gaze some distance away. Whatever they were doing, it sure looked odd to Darren. It looked like some bizarre ritual that involved body contortions. Curious, the young man started towards the person's direction. 

Recognition lit up Darren's face as he drew closer, his mouth turning up at the corners as his eyes fell onto the girl's face. Others may be shocked to know that there was a girl that actually held Darren's attention for a substantial amount of time. Five years was a fuck load of commitment on his part. Perhaps, it comforted him to know that they'd make greater friends than lovers, and truthfully, that was enough for him.

Zinnia was like a sister figure to Darren, a confidant and a friend. Three years ago, he'd found out something about her that he shouldn't have. It tore at him to know that he couldn't ease some of her burden. 

He smothered a chuckle at her placidity, not quite matching the temperament he knew she possessed whenever she was pissed off. Now, he vaguely remembered what position that was. Muggles were an odd lot, they had stupid names for stupid things. 

"Mmm, very tempting." He accepted her touch without complaint, his smirk widening as his blue gaze drifted down to her lips. Tempting, indeed. 

"That'd be nice, yeah." Darren found himself saying, leaning towards her as she drew back. Oh, she was good at this - if she could knowingly bend him to her will, Arabella would make a terrifying enemy. Perhaps, she did know how she affected people. Was she doing it right now,  Darren had no fucking clue.

"Damn, woman, how do you know these things?" Noticing the change in her tone, Darren looked away from her, shifting his bag on his shoulder as he tried to find the words he needed to convey his message. 

"Just a bit harried, that's all." 

He turned towards the direction of the dorms, expecting the girl to follow him. He was still looking forward to that massage she promised him, after all.

His soon-to-be marriage status was always a source of insecurity for him. Of course, girls didn't flock to him like he envisioned them to be, but they'd dropped hints. Father - he loved the man but he could be such a devil, sometimes - didn't help much, in fact, he was an advocate for his son's hand.

It got a bit embarrassing at times, especially during community mixers, he was pretty sure that the entire magical community had heard of Marcus Flint's overachieving dear boy. What a laugh. 

Marriage sounded like an odious trap, a ball and chain shackled to his ankles.

"It's sounds really silly," Darren scratched the back of his head, grimacing inwardly as he tried not to lose his cool in front of the girl.

"Basically, my father's arranging my marriage, so I'm dodging would-be wives just so I could enjoy my singlehood a little longer."

It didn't sound much like a threat, now that he thought of it, more like a lame excuse to escape responsibility, really, but Darren felt the same sentiments anyway. Why he feared it so much was just a bit beyond him.

He looked at the girl for a bit then looked away, as if embarrassed with the way he'd just revealed something about himself. Fucking hell.

The auburn haired girl muttered her hellos to Professor Sinister, before taking her seat in the back of the classroom and pulling her star chart out of her satchel. Following the professor’s instructions, she began mapping out Europa, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip ever so slightly in concentration. The crease that had formed in her eyebrows unravelling at the sight that had disrupted her thoughts. Of course, Darren Flint, who else could it be. 

Knowing fully that she took this particular seat in order to avoid any form of disruptions, Rose didn’t seem to mind the presence she was about to have- She watched as he made his way across the room, carrying himself with so much confidence she swore she’d never seen anyone strut the way he did ever before.

She cleared her throat in attempt to contain the smile that had begun to form at the corners of her lips. “Weebrain.” She initiated, narrowing her eyes until they came into contact with the boy’s piercing blue ones. Perhaps a 12 year old disheveled Rose had found the nickname immensely humiliating, perhaps she thought it would trigger some sort of emotion within the boy to show that she could be as strong as he was too. Just as confident. Years later, it had become more friendly if anything, endearing.

"As if, Weebrain." She huffed, running her hands through her tousled hair. Contrary to the belief of most, it wasn’t entirely easy to rid herself of the Weasley genes. Though she had dyed her hair and somewhat tamed it, there were still days like these when it was completely unruly. 

Figuratively, he didn't have a head for learning. Easily bored and distracted, Darren could see why she chose that name. He grinned approvingly as he rubbed his eyes.

"Don't need that sleeping potion, Rose. I think I'll sleep fine on my own." He chuckled, if a bit wearily. Considering that Astronomy classes were held during the hours they were supposed to be asleep, Darren regretted taking that flying practice in the Pitch in the afternoon.

He envied those who could imbibe that foul gunk of caffeine. Coffee did too much for him, apparently. Even small amounts led to a sleepless night, and when the effects wore off, his energy came crashing down like a deadweight. He would've settled for tea if he liked the taste of it. A cig or two didn't do much either, and it wasn't like he could sneak a smoke in between classes, too risky.

The young man held out his hand, much like a gentleman would when asking a lady to dance. It was funny, he never thought himself as a gentleman, bloody hell, far from it! The trail of broken hearts he left in his wake proved that as much.

The majority of students quite enjoyed the first couple of floors. Being able to go outside on the grounds or out into the courtyards to relax when the sun was out and warmed the day. They laughed and shoved each other around in good fun. Every once in a while rivaling students would end up head butting and caused excitement amongst the students as they fought. At least until the professors came to break it up. These were the areas Isaac tended to avoid.

Isaac preferred to be shut up on the higher floors where he could watch the student body in peace. He enjoyed being able to quietly shut himself away in the library, or in the Ravenclaw common room. The tall tower guarding ground was normally absent of bodies during the day. So he sat cradled in a windowsill, a book in his lap and bags at his side on the floor. He was away from the students he knew would humiliate him. Or at least try. Pick at him like vultures. So he didn’t mind being alone now and then.

He’d been so absorbed in his book, Isaac hadn’t heard footsteps echoing his way. He had in fact, nearly fallen asleep. He’d been able to position himself so comfortably. He could feel the warmth on his skin. Wrapping him entirely. It wasn’t until his body went entirely limp, enough that his body weight shifted and had him tumbling off the windowsill. He fell off and slipped on the floor, his head smacking the hard ground. He groaned. His eyes fluttered open to see the ends of robes, scuffed shoes from use around the school. Isaac felt his heart stutter a bit in fear. He blanched, and pushed himself up shakily.

"Did your mum never teach you to walk?"

The sixteen year old was never quite a bully, but neither was he completely innocent of terrorising his peers as he pleased. Perhaps, his mean-spirited nature was one of the things he'd inherited from his old man but that certainly did not excuse his behaviour.

At most, Darren received an hour or two in detention; even then, he made those serving time with him utterly repentant of their deeds. No, Darren was hardly a terrifying figure, he was a charming lad but despite appearances, everyone knew what happened when someone crossed him ever so slightly.

The young man sauntered ahead of his flock, laughing boisterously, and he happened to look towards the nearby alcove, his lips turning up at sight of the familiar figure sitting (rather, was sitting) by the windowsill.

He approached the fallen boy, his posse growing restless like a group of predators about to take down their kill. Perhaps, that was a tad dramatic, but it seemed like a fitting description in Darren's mind.

"I think it's a bit too early to be kissing my feet, eh, Rhodes?"

His hands slipped into his pockets, and he assumed a casual posture although his tone was utterly patronising. Isaac Rhodes was one of the unlucky few that got picked on by his group - nothing entirely malevolent or harmful, no, just some good old-fashioned put-them-in-their-place round up. Just so happened that Rhodes had, quite literally, tumbled into the crossfire.

Darren plucked the book from the floor, scrunching his nose as he dangled it between his fingers. He had an aversion to anything remotely academical so he quickly tossed it behind him, fully expecting for someone to catch it, or not.

"It's your lucky day, Mudblood. We're about to teach you how to have fun."

Mabel was contentedly settled in her favorite nook of the Ravenclaw common room reading a book of unusual cases that had been presented to the Wizengamot. An hour had gone by before she put the book down and realized that she had been inside the castle all day and it was nearly time for dinner. She usually took a 30 minute walk each morning to help jump start her day, but this morning when she sleepily rolled out of bed she heard thunder rolling in the distance. She decided she would rather have another 30 lazy minutes in bed rather then get pelted on by raindrops and risk being stuck by lightning halfway through her normal morning routine. She thought that after she was finished with dinner she should take her school work outside since the sun was finally peeking through the rainy clouds.

After another delicious meal had ended, Mabel opened up the massive double oak front doors and breathed in the fresh air. There were still raindrops clinging to the grass. With the sun now shining brightly combined with occasional bursts of wind, the drops shimmered like stars. Although sitting in the grass and working on her History of Magic essay was now not going to happen due to the dampness of the ground,still she was still happy to be outside. Mabel was always the calmest when she was outdoors. To her, nature was just as magical as anything she learned in her classes.

She made her way to one of the courtyards and found a nice dry spot on a stone bench. As she began taking her books out of her bag searching for the piece of parchment she had started her essay on, another gust of wind howled through the corridor. Unfortunately she had just pulled out the parchment as the wind came through; carrying the paper with it as it left.  Mabel stood up and in her haste knocked her books onto the ground. She noticed the paper heading in the direction of a figure coming along the path.

Quickly traversing the courtyard, he made for his next class, his robes swishing crisply in the air. Ah, it was certainly good to be outside once in a while. 

Being cooped up in the Castle made him a tiny bit loony, and there were times, his friends could accurately testify, that Darren went absolutely nuts for being kept indoors too long. Last time he checked, he was quite sure he didn't have a fear of closed spaces but it was stifling to say the least.

Some distance ahead, there was a figure flailing around, their things scattering about as a gust of wind blew past them. He heard their cry for help, it sounded more of a demand, really and Darren thought he could indulge the person just this once. 

He snatched the parchment before it could be carried away and strode towards the other person.

As he drew closer, he noticed that he was dealing with a female, and almost instantly, as if by instinct, his charming nature was brought to the fore. Leave it to Darren Flint to flirt with everything that walked on two legs and had breasts.