Fangs in my Feathers || Darren & Isaac
 Malice and intent shone in the Slytherinâs eyes. At least thatâs how Isaac perceived it. Itâs what frightened him most, other than the obviously impending drop behind him. He was beginning to heave, breathing heavily. Panic was quickly setting in. Torturously slow he felt his heels lift off the stone floor, and then his toes just barely scraping against it. Trying to keep hold. Trying to find a grip. Then his legs flailed rather wildly, but he dared not kick Darren or his goons. Heâd been sat on the edge of the railing, laid back to stare at the ceiling.
The Ravenclaw couldnât even reach his wand now, his fingers locked so tightly around his tormentors arms. Gripping the sleeves. He didnât 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.
"Mmmm fuckâŚ." He slurred out lamely. "F-Fuck you." He called out to the boys above him. Probably not smart considering theyâd tried to kill him, but it wasnât like he could think straight at the moment anyway. He tried to move, but only found himself slipping down the stairs. The hard edges rough on his back. So he stayed there. Stayed still. Waiting for the fog to lift from his brain.
Everything happened so fast.
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.Â
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."Â
He heard footsteps behind him. Desperation pulling at him, Darren began to lift the other, attempting to loop arm around his shoulder.
If he had to drag Rhodes to the infirmary, so be it.








