i don't give a damn;

A rather brilliant idea had come into Avery’s head. He’d thought about summoning him, but decided to just wait until curfew was over. He was used to embarrassing Wyatt in front of their dorm mates. He honestly didn’t care. 

“Wyatt, put your work down, we’re having a conversation. Sit.” He gestured towards the edge of the bed. Once Wyatt approached he closed the curtains around them, turning as he put a Silencing Charm on the dividers, so their dorm mates couldn’t hear them. He turned towards Wyatt. 

“Do you know Katherine Potter?”

Wyatt tensed when he heard his name, the commands coming across as if Avery were speaking to an animal instead of a person. It struck him, not for the first time, that that’s probably exactly how Avery saw him. Taking his time in doing so, he climbed from his own bed and walked over to Avery. 

He rolled his eyes right back, eyeing Wyatt’s fangs, before shrugging affably. “And I kick arse in blue, we’re even,” he said. At the prospect of a drink, he nodded, following after Wyatt at once. 

“I wasn’t planning on it, though there are plenty of pretty princesses around,” Don murmured, looking around, checking out a few different girls. “Damn, I love Halloween.” 

Wyatt rolled his eyes, pouring a cup for Don and holding it out for him to take because making his second glass of the night. It wasn’t going to be the last, either. He turned back toward the room once he was set up, eyes scanning almost disinterestedly as he gave a hum of agreement.

Green. A heavy green, like a forest, snaking across the ceiling. Why green? The ceiling of her dorm room was a dusky purple, ombreing into a light blue. And when the sun rose over the horizon, the warm rays would infiltrate the Ravenclaw tower and bask the room in a nice morning glow. But there was no morning glow here. There was no purple, no light blue. Alaina’s eyes slowly opened and adjusted to her situation. Immediately she was hit with a wave of nausea.  

“Sanabit.” She whispered hoarsely, pointing her wand at her throat. It was a general healing spells, good for minor maladies, including hangovers. And this was all the makings of a very bad hangover. What day was it? November 1st. Last night she had gotten incredibly smashed on spiked punch and had ended up with…oh god. 

Alaina looked to the left, where her hand was intertwined with none other than Wyatt Cleary’s. Fuck. Alaina wasn’t one for relationships and during fourth year, Wyatt had seemed like just a fun activity, something to do when she was bored. But it just hadn’t stopped. “Wyatt.” She whispered, nudging him. “Wake up.” As his eyes slowly opened, Alaina sat up and made sure her spell was still working. They had to be careful to keep their little adventures covered up, and to do that, Alaina had enacted a complicated spell around herself and the bed. No noises would get out, no one would ever see her. She was a ghost.

He was dreaming about home. The rolling hills of Ireland, the smell of fresh baked bread in his kitchen, the warmth of his bed... It all passed through his mind in a calming blur that didn’t form any sort of story, but was comfortable enough to rest through all the same. He was so content, in fact, that he didn’t feel the movements of another body beside his. 

His name. It broke through the murky comfort of sleep and the first thing he felt was the pounding in his head. It was dull, compared to some of the hangovers he’d had in his lifetime, and more manageable than any he’d had by far, but he still let out a little grown of protest when he was commanded to wake. Rolling onto his back, he squinted his eyes up at the ceiling before turning them on Alaina. The night came back to him in a slow haze, like a fog drifting through his mind; it was just images, but they all worked together to form a cohesive picture. He’s taken her to bed with him... Not unlike other times. 

Don attempted to shrug, though the costume prevented him from doing so, his shoulders just jutting up against the metal. He passed the helmet between his hands, always moving, always fidgeting. “A little bit. But it’s a kickass costume,” he insisted. 

Besides, though Wyatt didn’t know it, he was certainly not intending to wear it for the rest of the knight. “Suits me, doesn’t it? Better than being a vampire. Then again, that fits you; I always figured some of you Slytherins were vampires. Works with all the glowering and standing in dark corners shite.”

Wyatt rolled his eyes at Don’s continued bashing of Slytherin house. He knew better than to take it as a personal slight; Don just hated purebloods. It was an unfortunate coincidence - more than Don even knew - that Wyatt was in the house most known for its blood purity. “Listen, ya twat,” he started in, but he was grinning around his fangs. 

Wyatt Cleary

➛House: Slytherin ➛Year: Sixth ➛Family: Muggleborn ➛Face: Paul Wesley

An’ I don’t give a damn ‘bout my bad reputation Never said I wanted to improve my station An’ I’m only doin’ good when I’m havin’ fun An’ I don’t have to please no one -- Joan Jett There’s a hole in my soul I can’t fill it, I can’t fill it There’s a hole in my soul Can you fill it? Can you fill it? -- Bastille You who are rich and who’s troubles are few May come around to see my point of view What price the crown of a king on his throne When you’re chained in the dark all alone… -- Lil Wayne

Wyatt was born to muggle parents, both of whom worked in charity. His mother is a nurse volunteer for the war effort and his father is an environmentalist. The pair of them are the kind of people who would pull over for a hitchhiking stranger or allow a beggar to sleep in their home. They believe in protecting and nurturing the world, both it’s people and the planet itself. They live by a strict moral code and they raised their three sons to do the same. Wyatt’s older brothers are vastly different from him, and the trio were always known for causing mischief for their poor parents. Only two years apart each, Wyatt bringing up the rear of the pack, he always felt the need to try and stand out. This led to rebellion, even as a child, and receiving his Hogwarts letter was only further incentive to prove he was the breakout star of the family. His oldest brother had the brains, his second had the charm, but Wyatt… Wyatt had the magic.

Hogwarts was a new terrain for the youngest Cleary and he navigated it with relative ease. Being a Muggleborn in Slytherin was never easy, though. Without pureblood status, he wasn’t accepted into the same crowds as most of his peers and roommates. However, he kept his true heritage a secret and allowed everyone to believe he was a halfblood. It was easier to lie than it was to watch his back or find a new place to sleep. To say he didn’t trust his roommates was an understatement, but then again… Wyatt didn’t trust anyone.

He did work hard, however. He excelled in all the areas of magic that he put effort into, almost as if he was trying to prove himself to be worthy of his abilities. He was a Slytherin, with all of the ambition to match, and he was going to prove that, even if just to himself. He didn’t allow anyone to make him feel small. Wyatt stood with a head held high and a heart that was guarded by chain-linked fences and a smirk that made girls feel weak and boys feel enraged.

That didn’t mean he felt nothing, though. In fact, quite the opposite. Wyatt felt everything. He was so keenly in tune with his emotions that he put on masks and put up barriers for protection. He’s close to his family in a way that most people are not; he adores his parents and his brothers, despite their issues. He’d always envied his brothers and their relative ease with the opposite sex. While he could be charming, Wyatt was also painfully shy when it came to women. That didn’t stop him from desiring love, however. In fact, after football and excelling academically, it was his highest priority. He just didn’t know what he was doing, was the problem.

This costume was a brilliant idea, Don was sure. It was detailed, complete, and one hundred percent free (perhaps because he stole it from the school, but that was neither here nor there). Holding the helmet in his hand he clunk clunk clunked over to one of his best mates, wide, cheeky grin on his face. Wyatt was probably the only Slytherin Don could stomach, which made their friendship special indeed. 

“What d’you think? Better than your vampire thing, I bet,” Don started without preamble. It was how he talked, just jumping into things without propriety. “Though your teeth are creepy lookin’, good call on that.” 

It was impossibly to miss the metallic clang that meant the approaching of a knight. Wyatt barely even had to glance up from him drink to know it was Don headed his way, and he shook his head slowly when his friend stopped beside him. Rolling his eyes, he glanced Don’s way out of the corner of his eye, pretending to give him the minimal amount of his attention. “My costume is a classic, you twat.” he retorted, throwing back the rest of the firewhiskey and punch mixture with ease.