змея

Why can’t we have quidditch over the break, too?

"Mind translating that?" He replied, not actually caring in the slightest what Sasha had said. In a way, it would be highly convenient if everyone around him spoke another language, then he would have an excuse not to listen to a work that came out their inferior mouths. Leon’s fingers caught the wand that was just tucked under his bed before sitting upright, his eyes gazing over Sasha’s oddly coloured skin. Possibly the only thing Leon was grateful for was people like his fellow snake, those who had a similar level of determination, ambition and skill. A small smirk light up Leon’s face as he muttered a simple fire spell that created a candle-like flame on the end of his wand and lit the cigarette between his lips. 

Inhaling the grey smoke into his lungs, he laughed as he exhaled. Holding out his still ignited wand for Sasha to use as a light, he grinned, loving the small feeling of power that he got from doing so. He could quite easily shake his wand and put out the flame and sit, watching Sasha with an unlit cigarette and tease him with is own lit one. That was Sasha’s weakness; his addiction. 

Leon could either use it against him, or force him out of it. Those were the only options the Fairfax boy could see. 

 "Just waxing poetic about your arse," Sasha sarcastically assured the other boy whilst simultaneously pissing upon proper phonetics. His eyes followed Leon's movements, fingers on one hand drumming on the bedpost by his head and fingers on the other tapping his kneecap. Fidgeting. He did that a lot, too. Sasha didn't know whether to consider his inability to sit still a blessing or a curse. His thoughts were on other topics regardless. Namely the dickhead in front of him. Sasha had a begrudging fondness for Leon...most of the time, that is. Asking the other snake for anything was a task Sasha preferred to avoid, not wanting to allow someone like Leon to have power of any kind over him. He was more familiar with the other boy than anyone else, at least to his knowledge, and so had a relatively solid idea of what he could be like. 

 In all honesty, he would've jumped on Leon if he'd tried to pull something like teasing him with cigarettes. At that point it would be the most efficient solution just to take what he desired by force.    But Leon gave him a light this time, so Sasha ignored the seeker's smug satisfaction in favor of relishing the smoke now filling his lungs. He closed his eyes when he exhaled. His shoulders even slumped a little. The Slytherin wouldn't be able to deny that this was his vice. He'd relied on nicotine as an antidote to everything for years. Hungry? Headache? Stressed? Feeling Literally Any Emotion? Cigarettes. Bam. Problem solved. Sasha's mother had smoked during pregnancy, both of his parents smoked in the little home they'd shared, half the residents of the orphanage smoked whenever they could get their hands on tobacco, and Sasha himself started smoking before he started puberty. Quitting didn't register as an option.