Black Eyes & Fun Guys

Brilliant. Just brilliant. They have to rip the two of them apart and now they've been stuffed into a classroom together, writing lines. LINES. Like cavemen, or something. She was pretty sure this was the newest in a long line of schemes attempting to break her spirit. They went creative with punishments, and then they went dull. Now they were trying torture. And Merlin, it was horrible. She missed the good ol' days when they sent students into the Forbidden Forest to live or to die! Now it was

Duelling Club is meant to be an instructional class, not a Fight Club. I will follow the rules and behave myself.
Duelling Club is meant to be an instructional class, not a Fight Club. I will follow the rules and behave myself.
Duelling Club is meant to be an instructional class, not a Fight Club. I will follow the rules and behave myself.
Duelling Club is meant to be an instructional class, not a Fight Club. I will follow the rules and behave myself.
The first rule of course is to not talk about Duelling Club.

She snorted to herself before coming to her senses, her eyes darting to look at Matt. Her lip was still throbbing and her jaw had a small bruise on it. She would have preferred the black eye, honestly, it looked more badass, but this would do. She wondered if there was a pool somewhere, betting how long it would take for someone to deck her, and if she could get in on the prize money, as she was certain she had beaten even the lowest expectation.

She glanced towards the new Caretaker, who seemed to be falling asleep at his desk. She ripped off a piece of parchment and crumpled it, keeping her eyes on their chaperone. The second those eyes drooped, this paper was going into Lestrange's curls.

Why in the ever loving hell did I hit her?

For the last hour that was the only thing that coursed through his head. All the way from the dueling club room to the empty classroom he was now sharing with her and the new caretaker. He hadn't noticed how long they had been in the room together. His watch had stopped working since he had fallen on it when she knocked him on his ass.

His broken glasses sat next to the inkwell he was constantly dipping his quill into line after line after line. He could barely make out his ineligible writing with his glasses. Now he had to make it out without them and a black eye. As he finished his fourteenth line he felt something hit the side of his head - no hard but enough to make him notice the piece of paper that had fallen to the ground. He glanced at Dylllan and suddenly remembered why "in the ever loving hell" he had hit her.

He made a crude gesture with his finger - "What, the lip wasn't enough for ya?" he snapped across at her.

Jack didn’t bother to feign a look or innocence. Not because it was clearly her - that fact had never stopped her from badly playing the hapless innocent. No, the paper had sailed through the air in a beautiful curve, convincing her that she could easily sub as a Chaser, and rebounded off his head in an equally satisfied arc. There was no way she wasn’t going to take credit for that.

Her grin turned lopsided as she leaned forward. “Bring it on, baby. We’re both looking a little lopsided.”

The Caretaker say up, interrupting the beginning of a snore and Jack deflated, watching him with a burning gaze of boredom. Apparently they were working him too hard, because it was only moments before his eyelids were drooping again. And in that time she was able to work on her Plan B, which she sent sailing towards Matt in the form of a paper airplane.

Next time I fight Matthew Lestrange, I’ll go easy on him to make it a fair fight.
Next time I fight Matthew Lestrange, I’ll go easy on him to make it a fair fight.
Next time I fight Matthew Lestrange, I’ll go easy on him to make it a fair fight.

She wasn’t sure why she did it. It was too lazy to be boredom alone. Jack never stopped her incessant kidding, even when it the murky waters of potential bullying. She tried to make it clear she didn’t tease anyone with provocation - the problem was she’d take one provocation to justify months of retaliation. In truth, there was probably part of her that actually liked Matt. God knew he was one of the only ones who would actually give her an excuse to start punching.

Hence, the teasing. Anything to get back to the punching.

The snore of the caretaker burned his ears and the smug look on the face of her burned his eyes. Although, he did feel a sense of pride when he saw her lip. Of course, that sense of pride faded relatively quickly as she responded to his taunt. He sneered harder at her but turned back to his lines - he was already in enough trouble. If he wanted to be head boy in his Seventh year he would have to be better than this.

But she knows perfectly how to get under my skin.

Then, it hit him. No, literally, something hit him again. He felt it hit his head and then get stuck in his hair. He felt for whatever it was and pulled out a paper airplane. Of course, even in detention she was provoking him - he definitely shouldn't open it.

He opened it

Usually, Matt's just happy to be involved. He likes standing above the conversation and watching, listening. There are very few times that Matt truly expressed a dislike for someone. Was it really dislike though? Perhaps he saw some of himself in Jack and really wanted to like her.

But she's just so damn antagonistic!

Yeah, but she was also able to handle herself when people responded. They'd scrapped before and she took care of herself real well. Not like Matt was two hundred pounds of pure muscle or anything like that. But he'd seen her take down seventh years on the Quidditch pitch. Regardless, she was a pain in his ass and was the reason they were both in that god forsaken room doing lines.

He crumpled up the piece of paper and stuffed it away inside his pocket. He took a quick glance at the caretaker who was already fast asleep again and then up at the clock on the wall. They'd be there for another fourty minutes - he wasn't sure he could handle much more. Without looking at Jack he pointed his wand towards the clock and muttered "Wingardium Leviosa" under his breath. The clock came lazily falling down towards him and he began to turn the little hand so that it would look like they only had ten minutes left.

Ten minutes was all he needed to devise a plan to get back at Jack Dyllan. Again, with a swish and a flick of his wand the clock lazily flew back - he turned to look at her finally.

"Ten minutes, I'll show you what happens when I'm not holding back for the sake of your little ego."

And he began to furiously scribble lines.

Jack perked up as she watched Matt doing... something. She wasn't sure what it was, but she was here for it, even if it backfired on her.

He turned towards her and she briefly wondered how much actual anger was behind the words. The thought of another fight wasn't something that boiled her blood, and if anything, she was grateful for the opportunity. Her eyes gleamed as a smirk unfurled on her face, and she began taking stock of everything in her bag. She mouthed It's on and leaned back, cracking her knuckles.

Ten minutes to go...

The ticking of the clock on the wall grew ever louder as he scribbled harder than he was before. He suddenly felt very ill but also very energized at the same time. He had never actually challenged anyone to a fight before they had all sort of just happened.

Five minutes to go...

He wasn't even going to look at Jack. He had a feeling she was better than him at fighting - the fact that he didn't even knock her down and he fell on his ass was a testament to that. Adrenaline turned to fear and then to anger before it settled on anxious.

The five minutes had passed and Matt placed the cap back on his inkwell. He casually knocked it down and proceeded to stomp his foot as it hit the ground in order to wake the caretaker. His snoring stopped suddenly and he jumped to his feet glancing around the room. All he saw as Jack sitting there and Matt grabbing his inkwell off the ground.

"Our time's up so I think I'll be going." he stated and began packing up his things. The caretaker simply looked at the clock and nodded - muttering something under his breath.

Matt looked at Jack - "I think I'm going to go for a walk down by the lake."

She imagined this would turn into some sort of schoolyard legend. A fight merely postponed by detention, as the guilty parties did whatever it took to get back to the scuffle. Jack considered it something akin to Quidditch practice. A fight took reflexes, strength, close observation of your opponent, everything she tried to instill in the team. There was something more practical about a fight, though, better resembling the unpredictable nature of playing against other people. No matter how hard she tried, that was hard to simulate in practice.

All things considered though, she wasn't sure how well she'd fight without that edge of anger. In duelling club, the desire to win took over everything else, flooding her body with adrenaline. She didn't have that right now. She was sure that could change though.

Time was up.

Jack smiled politely at Matt and dipped her head. "I think I'll join you. I'm so glad we can put our differences aside-" And the Caretaker wasn't paying them any mind.

Her bag was scooped up and she began to walk out the door, glancing towards Matt. "You can back out at any time. I won't judge you." She smirked.

As the pair of them left the classroom it suddenly dawned on him exactly what he and Jack were about to go do.

Yeah, I'm an idiot.

He had to grapple with a few things on the walk down to the lake.

1. Jack was a seasoned veteran when it came to fights.
2. Matt had only punched three people in his life and two of them were an accident.
3. Did Matt want to be branded as the guy who beat up and or got beat up by a girl.

Not that being beaten up by a girl is any worse than being beaten up by a guy... he corrected his own thoughts.

They walked in silence, Matt had not responded to her provocation. His ears were burning because despite all these second thoughts he was still angry at her. He could not deny the fact that punching her felt really good. He also couldn't help but smile a bit every time he saw her bloody lip - but he maintained focus as they descended staircase after staircase.

Eventually the pair reached the entrance hall and out the front doors into a surprisingly windy day. He could see literal storm clouds off in the distance to match the storm clouds in his own head. It felt good, he enjoyed the stormy weather and if it got cold enough maybe it would numb him to the pain a bit. He steered himself and, subsequently, Jack down towards the lake. Not really sure about what was about to happen but knowing he was ready for it.

"Alright," he muttered to himself. "I guess let's do this."

He didn't answer, refusing to give her that rise that she so desired. The few glances she gave him confirmed he was still seething - no calm person clenched their jaw like that - but she was surprised to see how seriously he was taking it. There was a look in his eye that she read as determination, and she wondered briefly if she had actually made him snap. Huh. She thought he had more gumption than that.

She began to whistle a tune, an old Weird Sisters song that was much jauntier than the occasion called for. There wasn't much of wizarding culture that Jack had cleaved to, but the Weird Sisters rocked hard and she ingested her fair amount. After a moment, she slowed the tune down, lowering it, and it transformed into the funeral march as they crossed the doors of the castle to head outside.

The air was cool and sizzling with energy. By afternoon, the grounds would be gulping up the water, the lake busied with the activity of falling rain. And, Matt would be sporting another black eye.

His words were low, serious. She stopped and pivoted, immediately setting her legs up into a stance of strength. "Sure thing. Of course, I could provide you with an out. Nothing demeaning or anything. You'd just have to admit to me that not only would I kick your arse, but that I'm hilarious." She cocked her head, her mouth going lopsided at the taunt. "That's all."

He had to admit, only to himself, that he found it entertaining that Jack could find humour in almost any situation. This would be something he would think about later on but in the moment it was lost on him. He looked at her and he saw an obstacle that was standing in his way; she was always standing in his way. Often literally, he found himself in a situation where she wouldn't move to let him by. It was those sorts of things, the small things, that really irked him about her. She thought it was all fun and jokes but it was a if he didn't get enough of that shit in the common room.

Lestrange

A name that strikes fear into the hearts of witches and wizards. Perhaps the most loyal family to the Dark Lord that ever walked the earth and wear that badge with pride. Years of indoctrination from all sorts of family members did it's best to train Matt to be proud of that legacy. But he wasn't. He wasn't proud to wear the serpent that housed his family for generations; and everyone knew it. It was in this moment, however, Matt felt most like a Lestrange; it was his opportunity to put a Gryffindor in their place.

He pulled out his wand and stuffed it in his book bag; he threw off his robes as well.

But is this what YOU want?

It was a fair question. He knew he didn't feel at home in Slytherin so was he really about to make an enemy out of a Gryffindor?

But she's already your enemy!

She's a little annoying yeah, but their only interactions have been antagonistic. The wind picked up and felt it's sting combined with the rain on his face as his mind raced. He suddenly wished he'd kept his cloak on. Was it too late to talk his way out of this? No, he needed to fight. He needed to prove that he was at least SOMETHING of a Slytherin. Put a Gryffindor in their place; that was like at the top of the list.

"Okay, but before we start," he began to speak over the wind. "Why'd you dye your hair?"