Caché

Kendall almost stumbled down the steps that led towards the Dungeons. He paused, inhaled the stale air in the atmosphere, and convinced himself to snap out of the repulsion that was currently driving him a little over the edge. It was a job well done, he had to admit it; or rather, had to tell himself so. He would not have thought himself capable of that. A little sacrifice along the way, for a return that was good enough for it. Kendall did wonder if the move was a silly one. But no. It was not. One could certainly assume it so. Not him. Nothing was more powerful than subversion. That was the problem with people most of the time. They denied flipping their assumptions, denied questioning, and took to the road often travelled. He wanted to be different. He wanted so much to be different. Of course, he believed himself to be. He was special, he was different, he was more than anyone else could be. Kendall was taught those words, along with the less admitted motive behind them.

Kendall knew that there was bound be confusion, even in oneself, when irruption would take place in the many suppositions of the mind. He just never admitted that, as much as he challenged pain, or was seeking to be a master of sorts of it, that he was also challenging himself, irrupting his thresholds. His mind was a lot stronger than his body with coping. And yet, just awhile ago, it had betrayed itself to its own consciousness, that it was not safe from being a traitor of sorts to his intentions. It had railed against what he had compelled it to do. Kendall was, however, glad that it was not sufficiently mutinous to prevent him from his plans. Now, though, he felt a little out of sorts. He had left the bathroom that Rise had found him in, after what happened, slightly desperate for relief in the safety of the Slytherin Common Room. Well, it was not exactly a private space for him to sit at. But it was the space that he knew he not only belonged to, but had power at. He was Kendall Rookwood, after all. He had, through the years, made a name for himself among the Slytherins. Kendall was extremely sure of that, and sure of himself.

Hastily, Kendall muttered the password before stepping past the wall and into the Common Room, at last. It was probably one of the rare times that he skipped the ritual of scanning the room for familiar faces. Instead, Kendall ran a hand through his hair as he walked, before settling himself into an armchair. He was, however, thankful that it was way too late for the younger years to be up. They, especially the younger boys, had annoying faces. Of course, Kendall was never one to really reveal his opinions, and so the younger ones had no idea that they were disliked just for being younger ones. He even fancied himself a couple of admirers here and there, enough that he did not even have to get started about the girls. On the other hand, the older Slytherins were usually up to their other schemes, or had retired to the Dormitories too. Kendall was relieved at the peace that was offered him. He crossed his arms before reaching a hand up to rub against the space between his eyebrows, his fingers pressing against the point of it.

The frown was evident on Kendall's face as he tried to reconcile his thoughts. While he would usually have had wanted to write to his father, he decided to keep this a secret. This was not talked about as a prior plan. Rather, it was a spontaneous one. After all, Rise had offered herself, thrusted herself into his presence, and then made herself available for his sick fantasies. But that was what it was. It was slightly sick. Even if the pain had given him power, Kendall felt slightly sick for having put himself through it. The consolation was in learning that he had a threshold that could stand up to excess, even if there was so much of him against it. In a sublime manner, it was as if he had allowed the weakness that was present to die, only to allow a whole new order of power to reside in him. What were other challenges, if he had put himself up to this? Of course his confidence took a boosting. Kendall was merely requiring some recovery from the transgressive exposure.

The whine of the voices droning from the phonograph were laughable and so the girls with dark hair and snow coloured skin that wore scarlet smiles and charcoal eyes delighted in tottering about in an attempt at their best prance. They spun around the room, a whirlwind of lace, satin, silk and furs, painting themselves in waxes and pastes of ever colour and texture imaginable. It was from where she lay, strewn across her bed in a similar fashion to the way in which she’d haphazardly made her bed that morning, one heeled foot braced on her beside cabinet that the dark haired Goyle bastard followed her friend’s with her hard gaze. Her fingers, the nails coloured with the same onyx as before, twisted the girls her hair bore so well, as she tugged at the beads around her neck. She followed them absently, her thoughts preoccupied by something other than the night her acquaintances had, had planned for them. In due course they would dance into Hogsmeade arm in arm, ready to meet their betrothals for the dinner their parents had planned. Athena was reminded bitterly by her step-mother that she could have gone had she found herself someone and she was once again acquainted with a handful of Howlers upon her visit to the Owlery.

Not an hour later, once the girls had reason to widen their mouths and curl their lips upwards as they ducked out of the room one by one, shooting the dark haired young woman sympathetic glances before bursting into peals of giggles at the squeal-obscured words of one of the girls. Their exit was marked by the final slam of the dorm room door and for a moment the candles flickered, as if daring to lose their light, before regaining their life once more. A sigh escaped the scarlet bow and the sparkling heel scraped down the side of the splintered beside cabinet. It beat against the floor with such abrupt force that what followed it was another splinter of wood. A hand groped forward, diving underneath the amass of papers that covered the sheets and a look of delight alit her eyes as she retracted it once more, bringing the retrieved item close to her face. The ever ticking hand seemed to taunt her with what it conveyed. Seconds passed on by with little thought to those suffering because of it.

“Time makes fools of us all.” She murmured absently before flicking her wrist, allowing the leather strap to slip from her fingers and once again puncture the silence that had followed the coattails of her words as they danced from her lips to the window, from its beginnings to the end. The clatter left her feeling as shaken as the echoed sound and slowly, using one of the support beams of the four poster bed, she hoisted herself back onto her feet. Her head spun and she brought her spare hand to her forehead as she righted herself, hoping somehow it would relieve the dizziness. She let her hand fall and shook her head from side to side; the curls of her hair falling out of the hold it had been wrapped up in.

Then, not a moment later, she folded herself over and removed the straps of her shoes carefully from the buckles. Slowly she began to move back upwards, unfurling her spine and reaching her long fingers to the zipper at her waist. She slipped the pencil skirt down over her legs and allowed the material to obscure the shoes from view, similar to the way a rouge curtain would fall at the end of a spectacular. Next came the silken blouse and finally the ribbon that she’d gathered up her hair with that morning. The eggshell colour disappeared amongst the other material and following that was a matching brassiere and frilled briefs. The young woman, unconcerned about the unlocked door and the lack of privacy she now grasped, reached for a dress that she’d hung over the back of one of the ornate chairs scattered about the room, of little worth yet still holding the floor space there.

The dress, soft to the touch and nearly weightless, hugged her body without protest as she wrapped it around herself. She tied the pale blue material around her using the bow at the waist and slipped her feet into a second pair of shoes, silvery in colour. Her hair was once again brought up on top of her head, the mass of curls tied back with a silvery coloured ribbon she pulled from an ornate box on her bedside cabinet. Once her hair was fixed up, Athena strode around to the other side of her bed where she planted herself before the full length mirror. She didn’t lift her eyes at first, her gaze having fixed itself on her wrist as she fumbled with the watch she’d had prior to getting up. She didn’t remember picking it back up but was grateful for it none the less and thought little more of it. When she did raise her head, however, she was pleased with what she saw. A small smile graced her lips and she tugged at one of the curls that had fallen to her temples before turning her back on the mirror.

Exhaling shakily, the young woman stepped over a precarious tower of books and weaved her way through the mess that was their dorm. Eventually she made it to the door and passed through it before slamming it behind her. The collapse of what she was sure were books and various pieces of scattered furniture did little to shake the girl. What did, though, was the chill of the corridor and she hurried up the staircase and into the warmth of the common room. From the top of the stairs she observed the people dotted about the room and, predictably, her eyes fell to Kendall. This time, a smile really did grace her lips, though more in a smirk form, and she strode across the room to where he was sat in his armchair, brooding away.

Athena floated behind Kendall’s armchair, letting her fingers drag across the back, and bent down a little by his face. She turned her head, pursed her lips and blew a breath of air against her ear. Her smirk returned with full force and she flicked him on the nose. “If you’re not careful, the wind will change and you’ll have a face like a slapped ass forever.” Her tone was light, teasing, and her eyes sparkled with mirth as she looked at him. “You look like you’ve had a good day.”

Caught up in the heat of his thoughts, Kendall could not feel the chill of the room. It was odd how thoughts could heat more than a fireplace in the common room. Even the whispers around him could not take him away from his thoughts. Surely the other conversations were a lot less interesting. They usually were. There was usually the occasional amusement, but Kendall had always wondered at how too many Slytherins had too boring lives. Or perhaps, it was just being cooped up in the Castle that was driving all of them to be just as fancy as every brick that made up the building. Kendall was slightly impatient at the limitations of his life, anticipating what would come after Hogwarts. Life would be a lot less certain, but it was only because one could finally leave the well for the world. He needed that. He was getting too bored and tired after all these years in school. Perhaps, then, the whole thing with Rise was really just a punch at the walls of the Castle. A violent objection to limitations. Yet, he could not get the disgust out of his head, and especially out of his mouth.

When Athena appeared, it was not right to say that Kendall's eyes did not dart up. It was only that as soon as it darted up, it darted back down. As much as he could use some way to get himself out of the feeling of disgust, he was not sure he wanted to allow Athena to be the one, not when he had found himself earlier wishing for her when he had Rise instead. The latter was just plain disgusting. The former was a dangerous path to tread, especially when he wanted not to be reliant on anyone bar his family, of course. Pretending not to have seen Athena, Kendall studied his shoes. Of course, it did not work. He was obviously noticed, and Kendall felt a face near his, knowing full well who it belonged to. Kendall almost grinned when he felt some air blown at him, before he turned it into a scowl at having his nose flicked at. Lifting his eyes up, he looked at Athena now, finding it a challenge to take his eyes off the parts of her dress that showed her off. He rolled his eyes upon the girl's words.

"I'm pretty certain that some people find slapped-ass faces charming, especially if it's mine." Kendall smirked, then went on. "I've had the best day of my life." His eyes caressed the girl once more, before going up to look her in the eyes. "New present from daddy?" He asked, without context, trying now to allow his looking of Athena to overwhelm his memory of Rise, wishing that the pounding of trauma would leave his brain soon enough.