The look Alex gave Bevans while he tried to explain his inability to keep control of his wand started incredulous, that he was even attempting to try and justify himself, and turned slowly into one of flat irritation. The accusation of being emotionless meant little coming from her overly dramatic classmate, and while the suggestion of ignorance was amusing given the source, it still irked her.

Her response came out snappish, “Bevans, shocking though it may seem, Theo and I have better things to do than laugh at your startling ineptitude. Really, people don’t care that much.” She didn’t touch on the criticisms of Theo, leaving them for him to dispute as he wished – or didn’t, it wasn’t as though Bevans’ opinion mattered.

Alex assumed that Theo’s calm amusement was doing considerably more to wind the other boy up than being angry would have. If you couldn’t keep yourself under control, then there was nothing more frustrating than someone who derived amusement from that, not least because it suggested that you were beneath them. Still, better to irk Bevans by having superior control (which meant he should be perpetually angry) than give in and follow his example.

It would be more convenient if they were at least seated, since it would help him to control himself (he needed all the assistance he could get) and not advance on her in a gesture that was obviously intended to intimidate. No wonder Theo was amused. But while Alex considered the threat presented by him minimal (especially while angry – never a quick thinker at the best of times, while angry the Gryffindor’s thought process resembled that of a flobberworm), she’d rather that the conversation didn’t escalate into violence, an outcome that was beginning to seem inevitable.

“You need to be able to keep a lid on your emotions,” she said as calmly as she could, “If you can’t, how can you be trusted to duel? If you were injured, you should have called it to a halt.” Her hand flicked her hair back behind her ear while she took a moment to try and calm herself. It wasn’t that she feared that, like Bevans, her control was so tenuous she would set fire to her clothing, but in order to deal with him she needed patience for stupidity far exceeding what she possessed, which was none. But giving into her frustration would be sinking to his level, and that was unacceptable.

“I should have informed you,” she admitted, sounding less than gracious about it. “And,” she took a breath, reminding herself that she could hardly criticise others lack of control if she was incapable of admitting she was wrong because it hurt her pride, “I shouldn’t have told Theo.” It wasn’t an apology, but it was at least a concession that she was partly at fault. She still didn’t think her decision to demote Bevans had been wrong.

As Nicholas raved and ranted– even criticized, how charming –Theo’s smile slipped, enough that it was no longer just amused, but considering as well. That had been quite an assessment from someone who had never been (and never would be) a prefect, nor gave anything more than a vague impression that he may have cracked open a book before, and Theo found himself almost curious as to what, exactly, Nick thought prefects could and couldn’t do; no doubt it would provide some measure of entertainment, as well as some doubtlessly scintillating insight into the human mind. (Specifically, that gaping, cavernous hole where Theo supposed Nicholas’ common sense was meant to be.) Mental deficiencies were cruel on one’s dignity, and the Slytherin always did enjoy a front row seat.

And now, here was one such example. Shame, really, how it had to be at Alex’s expense.

Locking his hands behind his back, Theo smiled modestly at his feet. “Perhaps,” he conceded—a lot less than she had, although it was at least something, and he looked up at Alex with that very same smile. “But I am quite persuasive, so perhaps not all the blame should be laid at your feet.” Deigning Nicholas a glance, he frowned, “After noting how often he was being paired with fourth years, I had to know. It seemed rather… odd, all things considered.”

But the slight crease in his brow soon eased, and as his gaze lingered on the Gryffindor the smile twisted into a tiny, friendly quirk of the lips. “Or, had, anyway. Was rather easy connecting the dots, to be honest.

“Funny you should mention model behavior, though,” he said, folding his arms. As he looked down at Nicholas, his stare was measuring—as if he was making an inventory of all the little things that displeased him, and circled them. There was a great deal of red ink. “I had no idea you were so familiar with prefect decorum, Bevans. I must have missed that bit about laughter being against the rules, when I was reading the section on point deduction instead. So I suppose I should thank you for reminding me.”

He gave Nicholas a sweet, dazzling smile. “Ten points for drawing your wand on a prefect,” Theo beamed, as his arms fell to his sides. Standing close enough to Alex, one disappeared behind her, his fingertips lightly resting against the small of her back; the other one free, his wand smoothly dropped down his sleeve, the tip of it sharp against his palm like a fang. “Be grateful I’m not taking points off for opening your mouth at all.”

---

With Cody’s permission! C:

"Well I'm sorry that my bloody head had been rung like a bloody bell and I wasn't thinking like a heartless—" Nicholas stopped himself.  He could feel the heat in his face and his heart was racing, and it took everything he had not to finish what he'd been about to say.  He was in the right, he knew it. 

Alex had admitted that at least partially.  But anything more was wasted on her.  He knew that look.  The look that people like her had been giving him all his life, just because he'd always been more interested in doing things rather than reading about them.  The look that said, I'm better than you.

"Shove your points Whitman, I don't bloody care."  He might care but he wasn't about to let the ass of a Prefect know that.  "Though I'm not sure there's room next to your head."  His fist, his whole body, itched with the need to punch that smug damn smile off the Slytherin's face.  No, he was done with this before he did something he regretted.  He could control himself.  When he wanted to.  Or needed to.  He took a few steps to the door.

 "You know what, if me and my ineptness can't be bloody trusted, then I shouldn't be dueling with fourth years either.  So, Carstairs, go and shove your damned club up there next to his points.  I quit."  He pulled his wand and pointed it at his bag, silently summoning it to him.  Throwing it over his shoulder, he slammed the door open making a poor first year jump, as he stormed out into the hall and towards his next class.

Fed up of being patient, especially since it never seemed to do any good, Alex’s eyes lifted heavenwards at the insult Bevans cut himself off from completing. Of course the overdramatic fool would think that being in possession of some basic sense made you incapable of compassion, or indeed feeling in general. No wonder he was unable, even now in his sixth year at Hogwarts, to keep enough of a grip to prevent his wand from spontaneously combusting at a minor provocation.

When Theo spoke like that, a malicious inversion of his charm that was far more dangerous than the Gryffindor’s outbursts could ever be, Alex was prepared to forgive all of his faults (thankfully few) and reminded of why he was her most favouritest person in the whole wide world.

It was why she was only comfortable enough with Theo not to shy away from the hand against her back, instead taking it as reassurance. She still stiffened slightly at the mention of points, cautious when it came to such easily traceable methods. But it seemed Bevans, whether it was because he doubted he would be successful or because he simply couldn’t think rationally, or maybe both, wasn’t going to take the matter to a teacher. His declaration was – well, not exactly the best possible conclusion to events, but compared to what might have happened, his storming out in a huff was definitely an improvement, and hopefully his obvious feeling of martyrdom would ebb given time.

His resignation from duelling club, no matter that it had been made in the heat of the moment, rankled somewhat. Alex, for all that she resented the pathetic performance of some of the students, and the senseless aggression of others, wanted duelling club to be a success, and someone quitting in that fashion, even though she didn’t consider him a credit to the club, was still embarrassing. But to the casual observer, Alex’s expression as she watched Nick leave was totally indifferent.

With him went the noise and drama, and Alex stayed still for a moment, leaning into Theo slightly before she spoke, “while I hold that my original assumption,” although they both knew that it had been no such thing, “would have been far less terse, that was at least somewhat entertaining.” But far more stress than it had been worth, made worse by the knowledge that inevitably she would have to talk to Bevans, one rational human to a considerably less rational one.

Happily, however, that day was not today.

Theo watched him storm off, that same cherubic smile following the other boy out of the room like a nasty schoolyard bully. Oh, Gryffindor tempers; they were always such fun. Sometimes there was simply no compensating for personality.

Being born that way– rash, thick-witted, short-fused, moronic –was punishment enough in and of itself, he supposed.

“He’ll return,” Theo said by way of comfort, although short of typical, inadvertent entertainment the Slytherin was well aware that, admittedly, wasn’t much of one. Though Alex hadn’t said as much– certainly not in the way others might, which was to say with a very human hopefulness and little knowledge of basic human behavior– he knew that Dueling Club meant a great deal to her more than she let on. Even a hiccup as negligible as this was, understandably, annoying. “If there is any semblance of wit in that silly little head of his at all, then he knows that there’s really no other place where he can channel that temper with relative impunity.” Professor Storm certainly wouldn’t have stood for it.

“Besides-” With a quick, almost imperceptible flick of his wrist, his wand retracted back into its sleeve. “Even if you are, allegedly, unfeeling-” The word was uttered with smooth, idle amusement, not even frayed by sympathetic disdain, “-that only makes you a better judge of skill, your own skill level notwithstanding.” Idiocy was idiocy, no matter whose face it wore. “He hates Harcroft; being lumped with him rankles, no doubt. He’ll come back, if only to prove you wrong.”

People were so easy to anticipate, it was tragic. Theo spared a moment to lament.

It ended fairly quickly.

“I think I have his feelings on me,” he remarked lightly, looking down at himself with a slight curl to his lip– that in no way hid his amusement from the one who knew him best. “Goodness, I hope it washes out.”