What She Deserves: M/AJ [1/3]
Title: What She Deserves
Author: Royalty25
Pairing: Montague/Angelina
Prompt: #39 Help [2/50]
Word Count: 888
Rating: PG
Summary: Rescued by a not so mysterious stranger.
Disclaimer: These characters are never mine.
Notes: Cross-posted from an old post made to lions_serpents
He hated everything about her. The very thought of looking at her made his stomach twist into a tight knot. She wasn't ugly. Quite the opposite. She was beautiful and she knew it. Angelina, being the proud Gryffindor she was, would flaunt her beauty for all the world to see. Her main targets being the Weasley twins, who were her closest male friends. She could never imagine that she was being watched by someone else the entire time. She would find out soon enough.
One night, after leaving Fred and George's shop, she wandered into Knockturn Alley accidently. She quickly realized this when a creepy, old wizard asked her if she was interested in purchasing some dark artifacts. Angelina shook her head vigorously and this angered him.
"No one rejects me," he snarled. He started to advance on her, but she stunned him before he could reach her. As the man fell to his knees a few wizards nearby were horrified at the sight. They proceeded to walk over to where Angelina stood.
"Stay back," she warned them.
Twisted smiles and grubby hands advanced on her. She started to throw hexes at the men left and right, but there were too many of them. Angelina knew she had to run away and fast. She started to run, but was tripped. Her head hit the ground hard and she felt disoriented for a minute. All she could see was the blurry faces of the ugly wizards who were planning on torturing her for harming one of their own.
The torture did not come. Instead someone wrapped her up in a cloak and apparated her away. Upon arriving at her unknown destination she looked around trying to recognize where she was, but with little success. A wave of pain crashed into her head as she tried to stand up from the bed the stranger had placed her on.
"I wouldn't try to get up so fast if I were you," a male voice warned her.
"Who are you?"
"That's not important right now. What is important is that you rest. Go on. I'll let you spend the night."
"Thanks," she replied, unsure as to what else to say. The voice did not sound mean or threatening. For some reason she could not shake the feeling she knew the person and this alone made all doubts leave her mind. That night she ended up falling into an easy sleep.
The next morning Angelina woke up bright and early. She got out of bed and wandered the house in search of the person who had helped her get out of Knockturn Alley in one piece. She searched the halls and in doing so came across an interesting portrait of what appeared to be a family. The mother had a regal air to her. The woman's dark hair matched her husband and son's hair. The father's expression was hard and unforgiving. She could not help, but shudder as she stared at him. The son was handsome. He had fair skin, dark hair, and a curious look about him. He looked familiar.
"Looking for something Johnson?"
Angelina froze in her tracks. No one ever called her by her surname. The last time she remembered being addressed by it was when she was in school and even then barely did this happen. Only Slytherins would address her as Johnson.
"That voice," she spoke up.
"Are you starting to remember me now?"
She turned around and was at once face to face with Montague. "You," she retorted, sounding a bit outraged.
"The one and only."
"What are you doing here? What's going on? I'm dreaming right? You can't be in front of me right now. This doesn't make any sense."
"Of course it does Johnson. This is my house. I helped you out last night. I saved you from those men and I'm in front of you now because I wanted to see how you are doing."
She shook her head. "This can't be. You would never help me. You wouldn't."
Montague crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Why not?" he huffed.
"You hate me. You've always hated me. You don't help people you hate. You're suppose to enjoy when bad things happen to them. You're suppose to help the people hurting them not save them."
"Maybe I have my own way of hating you. I refuse to let you label me in such a manner. Leave my house."
"No, I'm not leaving until you tell me why you helped me," she snapped.
Montague uncrossed his arms and neared Angelina. "Leave before you make me do something I'll regret."
"Like what?"
"Like this." He placed his hands on either side of her face and pulled her in for a kiss. At first the kiss was sweet and soft, but soon it turned into something more. It turned into something twisted and eager. A sharp pain caught her off guard and she pulled away from Montague fast. He smiled maliciously. She touched her lips lightly and looked at her fingers. Blood. There was blood on her finger tips.
"Get out!" he yelled.
Angelina stared at him in disbelief and slowly made her way down the hall and out of his house. Montague watched her retreating figure and knew it was too soon. She was not ready for what he had to offer her. Not yet, but some day she would be. When that day arrived he would gladly give her what she deserves.
Author: Royalty25
Pairing: Montague/Angelina
Prompt: #39 Help [2/50]
Word Count: 888
Rating: PG
Summary: Rescued by a not so mysterious stranger.
Disclaimer: These characters are never mine.
Notes: Cross-posted from an old post made to lions_serpents
He hated everything about her. The very thought of looking at her made his stomach twist into a tight knot. She wasn't ugly. Quite the opposite. She was beautiful and she knew it. Angelina, being the proud Gryffindor she was, would flaunt her beauty for all the world to see. Her main targets being the Weasley twins, who were her closest male friends. She could never imagine that she was being watched by someone else the entire time. She would find out soon enough.
One night, after leaving Fred and George's shop, she wandered into Knockturn Alley accidently. She quickly realized this when a creepy, old wizard asked her if she was interested in purchasing some dark artifacts. Angelina shook her head vigorously and this angered him.
"No one rejects me," he snarled. He started to advance on her, but she stunned him before he could reach her. As the man fell to his knees a few wizards nearby were horrified at the sight. They proceeded to walk over to where Angelina stood.
"Stay back," she warned them.
Twisted smiles and grubby hands advanced on her. She started to throw hexes at the men left and right, but there were too many of them. Angelina knew she had to run away and fast. She started to run, but was tripped. Her head hit the ground hard and she felt disoriented for a minute. All she could see was the blurry faces of the ugly wizards who were planning on torturing her for harming one of their own.
The torture did not come. Instead someone wrapped her up in a cloak and apparated her away. Upon arriving at her unknown destination she looked around trying to recognize where she was, but with little success. A wave of pain crashed into her head as she tried to stand up from the bed the stranger had placed her on.
"I wouldn't try to get up so fast if I were you," a male voice warned her.
"Who are you?"
"That's not important right now. What is important is that you rest. Go on. I'll let you spend the night."
"Thanks," she replied, unsure as to what else to say. The voice did not sound mean or threatening. For some reason she could not shake the feeling she knew the person and this alone made all doubts leave her mind. That night she ended up falling into an easy sleep.
The next morning Angelina woke up bright and early. She got out of bed and wandered the house in search of the person who had helped her get out of Knockturn Alley in one piece. She searched the halls and in doing so came across an interesting portrait of what appeared to be a family. The mother had a regal air to her. The woman's dark hair matched her husband and son's hair. The father's expression was hard and unforgiving. She could not help, but shudder as she stared at him. The son was handsome. He had fair skin, dark hair, and a curious look about him. He looked familiar.
"Looking for something Johnson?"
Angelina froze in her tracks. No one ever called her by her surname. The last time she remembered being addressed by it was when she was in school and even then barely did this happen. Only Slytherins would address her as Johnson.
"That voice," she spoke up.
"Are you starting to remember me now?"
She turned around and was at once face to face with Montague. "You," she retorted, sounding a bit outraged.
"The one and only."
"What are you doing here? What's going on? I'm dreaming right? You can't be in front of me right now. This doesn't make any sense."
"Of course it does Johnson. This is my house. I helped you out last night. I saved you from those men and I'm in front of you now because I wanted to see how you are doing."
She shook her head. "This can't be. You would never help me. You wouldn't."
Montague crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Why not?" he huffed.
"You hate me. You've always hated me. You don't help people you hate. You're suppose to enjoy when bad things happen to them. You're suppose to help the people hurting them not save them."
"Maybe I have my own way of hating you. I refuse to let you label me in such a manner. Leave my house."
"No, I'm not leaving until you tell me why you helped me," she snapped.
Montague uncrossed his arms and neared Angelina. "Leave before you make me do something I'll regret."
"Like what?"
"Like this." He placed his hands on either side of her face and pulled her in for a kiss. At first the kiss was sweet and soft, but soon it turned into something more. It turned into something twisted and eager. A sharp pain caught her off guard and she pulled away from Montague fast. He smiled maliciously. She touched her lips lightly and looked at her fingers. Blood. There was blood on her finger tips.
"Get out!" he yelled.
Angelina stared at him in disbelief and slowly made her way down the hall and out of his house. Montague watched her retreating figure and knew it was too soon. She was not ready for what he had to offer her. Not yet, but some day she would be. When that day arrived he would gladly give her what she deserves.