(Untitled)

[homely_illiad]

 Date/Time: Talking to Strangers/ Sunday, October 15th, 2006/ 2:32 PM
Location: Slythering Common Room
Open to: Adriana
Currently Involving: Illiana-- I mean, Illiad

There was no way he was going to be able to focus.

This fact hit him suddenly, in the chest-- so suddenly, that he felt his knees moving against his will to shut the Arithmancy book sitting

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[homely_illiad]

"You know me-- tits and ass all the way," he said, grinning at her and shifting so that she could sit more properly, pulling his legs up under him. So what if he sat a bit girly? He was comfortable, at least, wasn't he? He suddenly wished Brinley was there, and that maybe it could be his fourth year again, before things had gotten strange between he and the older boy, and the pair of them could sit and duel Adriana in sarcasm for all their worth. Really, when it came down to it, the trio shared a magnificent bond of banter. "Nice rack, by the way. What is I'm supposed to say? 'Was your father a baker because I want to hump you in an entirely animalistic way'?" Although he was always expressly vague with most people concerning his sexuality, Adriana was one that he had never lied to. Of course, it wasn't like she couldn't have seen the fact that he was madly in love with his older housemate. Anyone, really, could. But Adriana was the only one he'd ever really talked about the subject at length with.

As she asked him about the bruise (he'd really been foolish to think she wouldn't notice), he came up with a response immediately. "Doorknob," he said, then mentally kicked himself for it. Honestly-- a doorknob? How in the world was a doorknob supposed to give you a bruise? In the face? 'Quidditch accident' would've been a far better excuse, come to think of it. But unfortunately, he was stuck with 'doorknob'.

"Ran into it. In a fit of-- err... manly rage," he hoped the joke would distract her enough from the strangeness of the situation. Illiad Hawkins looked like the sort of boy who could not even define manly rage, let alone be a victim of fits of it. More like, poodle-y rage.

"Ministry position not working out, then?"

[adriana_winters]

Oh, a round-robin of pure snark and sarcasm sounded brilliant. Definitely something she didn't get enough of, now that she had graduated. Sure, there were a few people she would bicker with at the Ministry, but she didn't get to see them every day and the majority were old geezers who hardly spoke. Probably why Adriana found herself mysteriously in the Auror's offices quite often.

Adriana couldn't resist the snort of laughter at Illiad's attempts to be a heterosexual teenager, quite humoured and disgusted, all at the same time. Taking on an over-the-top flirtatious expression, she wiggled her eyebrows at Illiad. "I much prefer... 'the most stunning piece of perfection'," she said, lips pursing as she sat back against the couch, conveniently flaunting her chest out.

Yes, she did quite like her rack.

She had known about Illiad's fondness towards the same sex for quite a few years, and there was a teeeeensy part of her that took flattery in that she was one of the few he felt he could confide in. Lucky for Illiad, Adriana didn't care much on the matter of what gender you were attracted to -- she didn't care for any love, didn't believe it even existed. Eh, each do his own! Furthermore, Adriana always thought of herself as very intuitive in reading other people, whether she liked them or not. There just wasn't much you could hide from her.

For a few moments after he responded to her, Adriana simply stared at Illiad, head cocking to the side in mock thought. It took her another several seconds before she said anything, seemingly coming back to reality. "Oh, I apologize... was I supposed to believe a word you just said?"

[homely_illiad]

Well, damn.

Illiad was generally a good liar. He could even lie to Brinley without a queer (no pun intended) look on his face, let alone people like Adriana who he didn't have so many feelings invested in. He'd simply grown up like that-- knowing his parents, cousins, and siblings didn't always like the way he answered questions, he'd had to go about hiding them, right? Sometimes it felt like it was pathological, that he was lying about silly, stupid little things. But he was just so good at it, no one became suspious.

"Yes, actually, you were," Illiad said, trying to keep his voice from going cold. He didn't want to fight with her. It seemed all he was doing lately was fighting people-- fighting Frazer, fighting that crazed child McFinn, fighting Louvika, his parents...fighting Brinley. He didn't want it any more. So what was he supposed to do? Even as he thought about pouring his heart out to her about them, the deep scars he'd been carving with his wand into his upper arms seemed to tingle, as if warning him that they were not a proper subject for discourse.

And, anyway, what would Adriana care that Illiad had been abusing himself and the he'd finally accidently done it where someone could see it? Why should she care, even? She didn't go here anymore, did she? She was just visiting, but she was at the Ministry now and he was only some silly school boy.

"Look," he said, and his voice dropped to a strange tone. "No one hit me, and it definately wasn't Brinley, if that's what you're thinking," he said, his eyes sternly warning her not to question him. Brinley had hit him before, and it had left marks. But these were not them, so they didn't matter.

"It was an accident, that's all, and a very foolish one on my part."

[adriana_winters]

Just as much as Illiad may have been a good liar... he was talking to a good one. Pitting Slytherin against Slytherin wasn't normally a good idea, they practically cancelled each other out. Each knew of what to look for because they in turn had probably done the same at some point.

Besides... a DOOR KNOB? Sure, Adriana's hair colour was blonde, but give her some credit, thank you very much!

Raising an eyebrow critically, Adriana's expression tightened, showing her dislike of being lied to. Honestly, a door knob? She had heard better excuses from Gryffindors. It was obvious that something serious had happened, and she didn't appreciate being blatantly lied to. The notion of Illiad doing this to himself didn't immediate come across Adriana's mind, though it would be very alarming if she did know.

"Yes, Hogwarts really needs to do something about all these flying doorknobs," she commented dryly, tone dripping with sarcasm. "How many innocent students need to get whacked from walking in the corridors before Filch does something?" Sighing, she uncrossed her legs gently, moving her hands over her skirt to smooth it out over her knees idly. "You should be lucky the offending object didn't take out your eye."

[homely_illiad]

"I generally count myself among the bless'd," Illiad said sardonically, rolling his eyes. Really, he was quite ashamed of the 'doorknob' excuse. He really thought he was better then that, but there you were. He couldn't always be on his game.

"If I admit it wasn't a doorknob, will you let the subject fall?" he asked, still keeping his impetuous, bratty tone. He knew Adriana didn't believe him-- you'd have to be pretty damn stupid not to. "First excuse I could think of mate, sorry it didn't meet your standards," he said, rolling his eyes and feeling like a complete ass. He didn't like lying to Adriana, but he couldn't exactly tell her he'd done it himself, could he? How could you tell people you were hurting yourself and not expect them to do something about it?

Especially when you really didn't want them to do something about it?

It had been hard enough, after all, when Brinley had realized he'd gone off food from feeling so inferior and sick over the fact that Brinley had been spotted with that poofter, Andrew Frazer. Of course, there wasn't any way for Brinley to avoid noticing it, seeing as Illiad had fainted on him. But the older boy had never asked about the marks Illiad gave himself, and therefore, the younger never needed to admit he was doing them.

"Don't you have anything better to do than analyzing me? Say... feeding your flying monkeys?" He doubted Adriana had ever seen The Wizard of Oz, or got the reference, but it made him feel better.

Not really. He really didn't want her to go. He was so lonely these days.

[adriana_winters]

"That depends on the actual explanation," she replied dryly, not bothering to even look at him. Illiad didn't like lying to her? Well, Adriana didn't appreciate being lied to! Particularly when it was so utterly obvious that it was a fib. Honestly, was he trying to insult her intelligence? She almost felt a bit offended!

"Yes, well, it's not as though I go around believing everyone is as talented as I am." With a sigh, she flashed Illiad a knowing look of pure cocky pride.

It wasn't as though Illiad needed to worry his bruised little head about what she'd do if she knew the truth about his marks. Adriana Winters didn't care all that often, and though there exceptions to whom she had feelings towards, she was not about to sound the alarms and get all worried for Illiad's health. What he did was his own business, in the end. She'd just have an opinion on it, of course.

"Flying monkeys?" she repeated, eyebrow arching rather comically. Of course she didn't see the Muggle reference, so was left with an interesting mental image. "However intriguing that notion is, I am sad to report that no, there is nothing more entertaining to do in this Castle. Though, I hazard a guess that the monkeys would be more productive."

[homely_illiad]

Illiad barely wanted to hear her opinion on his bruising himself, just as he hadn't wanted to hear Brinley's opinion on his starving himself when he had gone through that phase. There were just certain things that he didn't want brought out in the public, because that meant that they weren't his anymore-- and it meant that it could possibly get back to his family or, Merlin forbid, Louvika, who would no doubt throw down the entire school at the word of Illiad bruising his own face.

But the more the topic was discussed, the more and more Illiad felt sick about it. He wanted it over. He felt a sickeningly spinning sensation in his brain that hovered above his chest and stomach, and hung in his brain. He scooted forward in the chair and narrowed his eyes, staring straight at her.

"This bruise then? You really want to know how I got it?" he asked her, feeling quite peevish. "Slammed my head on a countertop. On purpose. Feel better?" he asked her, crossing his arms over his chest.

"And the scars on my arms that you'll never see? The ones Brinley ignores? Did those myself, too. And the reason I'm a bit shakey today? Cruico'd myself last night. Do it now and again, y'know." he said, now looking quite annoyed and rather pitiful as well. But there was a certain hardness to his eyes, as if he was daring her to laugh at his way of life.

"Learned this summer. Read a book on it. Go ahead, laugh at me. I know I'm a pitiful creature. But there-- I'm not lying."

[adriana_winters]

Merlin, he could have just told her in the first place. Saved them both the extravagant flying doorknob theory.

The truth was surprising, no doubt at all, but it didn't show on Adriana's face. A minor tilt of her head, pursing of her lips, nothing more of her expression to show that she was that affected by the confession. Years of masking emotions, despite the fact that the news wasn't that terribly startling to Adriana. She was not aware that Illiad would want to inflict any pain onto himself, but now she did. Wasn't a large deal to her. It wasn't her job to look after him.

"Tsk, no need for the hostility," she said, brow furrowing as she watched him. "Illiad, If you expect me to laugh at you, I'm afraid you're telling your tragic tale to the wrong person."

Eyes darkening in the slightest, Adriana's voice lowered, sitting up straighter. "We all have problems -- we all differ in the ways we deal with them. You are far from a child, you made your choices. Expect me to question you out of horrid worry? Try to help you in concern? You will not get pity or sympathy from me."

Tossing her hair back over her shoulder, Adriana situated back against the couch, arms crossing back over each other casually.

"Good job to manage the curse. The Cruciatus is one of my favourites."

[homely_illiad]

"It wasn't so hard," Illiad said, his normal insistance that he was quite brilliant (something he had to keep up often around his family-- although they'd probably disown him if they knew he learned the Cruciatus!) biting in before he could bite it back. "The Cruciatus Curse, I mean. It only took me four go's. My roommate found me after the third-- did it wrong and passed out, see? Asked me if I'd gotten my period," he said, glowering.

"Expect if I'd done it at home and my brother had found me, he'd have killed me. Not out of concern, but over the principle of the fact that I was using an Unforgivable. And no, I don't care if you don't care-- I didn't want your pity," he said, nearly spitting it.

He really didn't want it. He didn't want anyone's pity-- what he did was his decision and balls to anyone who thought differently. The last thing he needed was another Louvika, who'd nearly cried herself to death after hearing he's starved himself over Brinley Watson.

"I just don't like people knowing it's what I do. It's not like I don't have enough of a stigma haunting me, is it?" he asked, his grey eyes looking shadowed and very, very tired.

"It's a very... peculiar curse to cast, isn't it?" he asked. He didn't want to know how she knew it, or who she'd cast it on. He'd always had a feeling she was involved with the same crowd Brinley was, but he had never cared to admit it to himself.

[adriana_winters]

She simply nodded, smirking slightly to herself at his words. Naturally, she could recall that he was always quick in learning spells, for as long as she knew him through Hogwarts, he seemed more intelligent than most of the Slytherins in his year. Illiad had strong determination, Adriana gave him that much.

Good. So they established that she wasn't going to start crying about his poor little need to hurt himself.

"Peculiar," she offered in thought, licking her lips quickly as her gaze moved off across the common room for a few moments. "Engaging, satisfying... I suppose it's a matter of perspective."

Adriana would practically assume that Illiad knew of her Death Eater status; she was here on the Minister's private committee, and it didn't take a lot of brain power to decipher how loyal Lucius Malfoy really was to the safety of Dumbledore-lovers.

She also thought it was fairly obvious that she was evil.

[homely_illiad]

"Satisfying. Yes, that one," Illiad added, his tone quick and light. "I suppose that is what I meant by 'peculiar'. But it is strange in other ways as well," he said, unable to not say it.

"It takes so much... hate to perform," he said, looking at the leather of the sofa in between them. It was something he had contemplated about for ages before doing it-- after all, he'd been at home when he'd read the book concerning the curse and how to operate it. And he wasn't of age yet, so he couldn't have gotten started right away-- not with the Trace still on him. His seventeenth birthday was in less than a month, and frankly, Illiad couldn't wait for it to come. It was bollix of an annoyance waiting around to put into action the spells he so longed to do after reading about them on holiday.

But the hate-- how he'd contemplated on it! How he'd argued with himself over it, endlessly, it seemed. To work such a hatred for others might be easy. But for himself...? Easier than he'd have liked admitting.

"What is it like... performing it on other people?" the smallest tinge of curiosity traced his lips as he spoke. Illiad had never been one for Dark Magic-- it frightened him. Not because it was dark and scary, but because of the reading he'd done on it-- the devotion to evil, the absense of love! Illiad might not be a nice person, but his core was driven by nothing but love. That was why he wasn't in the FUK'D-- to devote one's life to something so tempermental...

[adriana_winters]

There were several other descriptions Adriana could suggest for the Cruciatus, really. It was a twisted means of a curse, in the end. Twisted -- just like her.

Probably made sense that it was her specialty.

"Yes, it does," she agreed, clear seriousness in her tone as she kept her gaze across at Illiad, expression almost as blank as stone. "You have to feel it, need to cast it. Simply wanting to is not enough."

Ah, devotion to evil. Well put, indeed. Sinister, twisted ways had followed Adriana along her whole life, an absence of love, even more so! Adriana had made her choice a long time ago; finally becoming a Death Eater made hardly a difference in her mindset. She knew what she wanted, and she set after it.

"One of the most exhilarating experiences," she replied, needing no hesitation to think of an answer. The first time she actually fired a full-on Cruciatus... stopping an Auror from escaping during a fight. Thrilling. Adriana's eyes seemed to flash as she sat there, recalling the complete power rush she felt every single time. "Not something one can truly ever explain. You've only casted it on yourself, I gather?"

[homely_illiad]

The need to cast it. The need. Her words stung Illiad-- he knew exactly what she was talking about. It frightened him, to be honest. While he had always liked Adriana and admired her for her wit, her talent and affinities with the Dark Arts was never something that impressed him, nor something he longed to share with her.

And where they did share the absence of love, instead of ignoring those feelings completely, Illiad chose to chase them and cling to whatever he got so hard that to break it away might mean a tragic death of soul for himself or the person he was clinging to.

"Yes," Illiad said. "I haven't... I wouldn't have done it to another person," he said, suddenly feeling very weak compared to her. He wouldn't have done it to someone else-- it wasn't within his power. Even Andrew Frazer, who he hated more than anything, hadn't been on the recieving end of anything but a couple of silencing charms and more than a couple of punches.

"I mean-- I'm not... I don't do that...group," he said. He didn't know what to call it, although he knew of its existance, if not vaguley. Brinley had all but informed him that there had been a group he'd been with when he'd witnessed the murders taking place.

"I've only ever wanted to do it to myself."

[adriana_winters]

Illiad needn't worry himself about feeling weak in her presence. She'd be happy to put him at ease and assure him that it happened to lots of people, older females and authoritative males alike. A particular talent of hers that she was quite fond of.

Clinging to someone for love? Just the mere word made her feel the need to choke. Clingy... was not something she'd strive to be. Ever. The notion of love itself, was hardly in her books of believable items. It couldn't be forgotten, however, that Adriana had never actually witnessed love first-hand, so her thoughts on the matter were purely an outside perspective that it did not exist. Who knows - maybe someday she could have the chance to make the choice for herself.

"Ah, yes, the 'group'..." Adriana rose an eyebrow curiously, putting emphasis on the lack of name to said group for particular reasons that she hoped Illiad would get. "Regardless, and this is certainly just hypothetical, I doubt having status in said group would be the only way you could ever find yourself in use of the curse."

Adriana smirked lightly, watching Illiad try to find the right words. It was almost a pity, as she in fact believed he did have some potential deep down. "Don't count yourself out just yet, Illiad," she offered, shrugging her shoulders lightly as she sent her gaze in front of her towards the giant stone fireplace. "You're young, and there's a first time for everything."

[homely_illiad]

A first time for everything?

Illiad didn't want it! He didn't want to be a Death Eater and he didn't want to kill anyone, or put the Cruciatus Curse on them! The very thought terrified him. He'd seen, after all, a sight no one in the world besides him had been allowed to see-- Brinley Watson, in tears, so disturbed by the small part he had played in killing the students at the Great Hall. That had disturbed Illiad to his core, shaken him, and been the greatest arguement for him, in favor of Dumbledore's cause.

"Maybe," Illiad replied, looking very uncomfortable by the entire topic. He was not a killer-- a hater, yes; there were some people he did hate and he hated them beyond words. But to kill them?

To honest to God torture them and kill them?

And yet he could do it to himself. Of course, that was easy. The pain... it released him, sometimes. Released him of guilt he had pent up against himself, or frustrations he had about the world in general.