Enough to make you scream

[Connor Manning]

Tuesday January 20th, 2009 [8:30 p.m.]

Today would certainly not be the best choice of day to come across Connor Manning. He was irritated, annoyed, and most of all – tired.

For the past week, Connor had been fighting a cold. He was thankful to not have contracted Dragon Pox from the way it had been spreading like wildfire all over the school, but the cold he was currently having was enough to knock the Slytherin on his arse.

Lessons weren’t making it any easier. He was loaded down with homework now that Professors were beginning to prepare everyone for the end of year finals. He was normally in a good natured mood, but as the lessons continued on and on, he couldn’t help but feel his good natured self deteriorating. His homework was enough to make him want to leave the school altogether, but Connor held back from doing anything too drastic. The most drastic thing he had done all day was arriving to a class five minutes late because he had had a pulsing and relentless headache and had paid a short visit to the nurse.

He was feeling a bit better after dinner, although not by much. His stomach full and his head still aching slightly, the Slytherin boy made his way around the castle, doing his rounds as he was accustomed to doing. He had a book with him, Wuthering Heights by the muggle author Emily Bronte, kept in his back pocket. It was a decent book, captivating and enough to keep him occupied, but it still couldn’t deter Connor from thinking about his headache. He cursed it out loud, wishing it would just go away.

He turned the corner to find himself face to face with a small first year girl. She stumbled into him, causing Connor to catch himself just in time to not topple over the girl. She mumbled her apologies and continued on her way, the Slytherin grumbling all the while.

Under normal circumstances he wouldn’t have cared, but Connor was feeling extremely under the weather. Sure, he knew he’d be fine in a couple of days, but for now he just had to find a way to survive the next few days. Like most illnesses or ailments, it had to get worse before it got better, and Connor hoped that this was the worst of it.

He was feeling both ill tempered and just ill in general, enough to make him curse his Prefect duties and his damn head ache.

[Damian and open]

[Damian Piper]

A few moments behind...

Ah Prefect rounds, or it would be in another couple of hours. Technically their job was never ending but it was rarely anything worth while of late. It seemed everyone was either sick or afraid of getting so. Imagine, a building full of people with magic afraid of something that even muggles didn't cause such a stir over. It really was a pity that he couldn't see a muggles reaction to such a thought, it was also a pity they were worth about as much as a house elf in the greater scheme of things.

It was getting to be that even living on the moment was boring around here. Here he was five whole floors into Hogwart's height and there was no one to bother, nothing worth nicking and not a single rule (that he could think of) that he hadn't already gotten away with or caught breaking. Was this school really getting that disinteresting or had it always been this way? Either way it was rightly pathetic by all perspectives.

As a first year went scurrying by him from around the corner, missing him by a small margin without so much as a second glance Damian found himself almost wanting to reach out behind him and knock her forward...almost. The only reason he didn't was that he heard more footsteps ahead of him and it was far easier to move forward than back. The seventh year quickened his pace just enough to reach the junction only to catch sight of a face that looked not only understandably familiar but also royally pissed.

"What's the matter Manning, little badgerette back there - " he motioned back up toward the juncture with his head. " - get ink on your robes?"

[Connor Manning]

Connor turned his head to watch the girl dissapear from view. Good riddance.

" I will not kill anyone, I will not kill anyone. " He said with a nod, trying to convince himself that he would not be able to kill anyone despite the growing need to do so. He couldn't because... well it was illegal. And morally wrong, yadda yadda yadda. He listed the reasons of why he couldn't kill anyone. It was the morally wrong bit and the fact that he would probably more than likely go to Azkaban if he did decide to kill someone that stopped him.. As he wasn't looking to make his moral compass any more abnormal or land a cell in Azkaban, he knew keeping his cool, or trying to, would be the best option.

He continued walking in a quiet bliss until he was interupted, first by the sight of someone, and then their voice. Damian Piper, Slytherin seventh year. Connor's fellow prefect. And a joy to be around, surely. The sixth year felt his sour mood go from bad to worse as he heard the older boy's words. He didn't have any personal slights against Piper, but he had come to call him an acquaintance through various Prefect meetings and the like. He just wasn't sure he could handle his snarky tone at this time.

" Yes, she got a bit of ink on my robes. Could the same be said for you? " He questioned, sliding his hands into his pockets as he stopped walking and looked at the older boy, a scowl evident on his face.

[Damian Piper]

"Yes, she got a bit of ink on my robes. Could the same be said for you?"

Oh my my, either he had jumped on the bandwagon and was rightly pissed about being pent up like this or the probably-halfway-to-the stairway scurrying lass had proposed to him. Really either was possible, but only one would generally make Damian near infuriated. Most of the younger years were blood-diluted filth, that should be enough reason alone to infuriate anyone, should. Sadly, most of these sods were far too sympathetic, perhaps that was the general reason why he enjoyed making them miserable? Oh who cared, there was an appointed time for self reflection and narcissism, this was not it. This was 'mock other people's frustrations' time.

"Get ink on your robes? Sorry. None to spare, saving mine for Thornton. Just go raid a closet and dump it on yourself." He smirked. "I mean if it's that important for you to become someone's shoddy artwork, it might as well be your own. It's just a tad less humiliating but maybe you don't care about that."

Mocking people brought amusement, even more so when the took the bait and Connor took everything plus the hook. See, Damian never really cared about hooks and bait lines, a challenge was always a challenge and rarely did he ever back down from one. This chap on the other hand, well, he could talk like he enjoyed a duel of wit and sarcasm, but could he back his talk?

"Oh I'm sorry, were you expecting me to leave instead?"

[Connor Manning]

Had Connor been in a better mood, more like his normal easy going relaxed one, he wouldn't have let Piper's comments get to him. He would have laughed off the older Slytherin's comments, brush them aside and possibly go on his way feeling slightly amused.

He didn't feel like himself, and Damian's comments only dug into him just a little bit deeper. He bit down lightly on the inside of his cheek, cursing himself both for stopping and talking to Piper, but also for letting his stupid comments get to him. ' It's just a tad less humiliating but maybe you don't care about that. ' He turned his head to look at the older boy, a look of annoyance and slight pity in his eyes. Pity because he didn't think Damian had anything else better to do than bug him and test his patience. Annoyance because he was doing such a good job of it.

" I'll keep that in mind, thanks for your concern. " He did appreciate a small little smirk at the mention of Damian saving his ink for Drew. Connor didn't wish anything bad to befall the Ravenclaw, but the way he had said it amused him for some reason. The literal idea of inking someone like that painted quite the humorous picture in Connor's mind.

' Oh I'm sorry, were you expecting me to leave instead? ' He had been hoping, yes. " How on earth could I expect that of you, Piper? You live to aggravate, so how on earth could you look me over? " Connor realized, he had been perfect to fall into the trap, he was already annoyed and not able to wear his patience down much longer.

[Damian Piper]

"How on earth could I expect that of you, Piper? You live to aggravate, so how on earth could you look me over?"

Oh just when had Manning become such an excellent judge of character? He was completely correct mind you but that didn't really matter in the end. Dashing hopes upon the Dover Cliffs was just so fun! They shattered into so many little pieces and then well, of course the owner tried to put them back together while crying in anguish as they realize it's damn near impossible and liable to take them days, even weeks if Damian got lucky. Those looks of distaste and murder...he made more enemies than anything but what was life without someone wanting you dead? He had money, he had power, weren't they all supposed to have someone coming after them or had that left the mainstream style already? Really, it was all fun for him, a game, a game he could win anytime he chose on any day. It was perfection at it's finest point...

Right up until someone stepped in and botched it up.

"You couldn't. You knew this was going to happen and you're now damning yourself for turning around like a bloody fool. Now that we both know how low your self esteem is let's try and lower it further shall we?" He paused. "I mean really what could - besides my rather tacky timing I mean - possibly have you in such a sodden rut? Please don't tell me all this anger is because of the ruined holiday alone...there has to be more humor than that."

Truthfully Damian didn't care but since he wasn't a gossipy, whiny eleven year old brat he was getting his information the only way he knew. I mean really if loose lips really did sink ships than anger could drain the entire Channel without a soul noticing. It just meant angering allot of people at different times of the day and piecing the clues together to find the drain hole. Everyone had a way of getting what information they wanted, this was his, and so far it had yet to fail him so why change a perfectly good method?

"I mean really, is anything ever really explainable by one small, shoddy event? You don't like me because I piss you off, good for you. There's a club, talk to Thornton, he probably started it."

[Connor Manning]

It was people like Piper, with their stuck up cocky attitudes and overall obnoxious condesending tones that brought down the Slytherin house name to what it had formally represented, pure blood madness. Connor detested that more than anything, and the older boy's attitude like he was better than Connor irritated him. What did he have that the sixth year didn't? Status, sure, but anyone could have that. Money? Perhaps, but again, anyone could gain that as well. Blood status? Perhaps that was it. It was recently told to the sixth years that his blood was not as pure as he had once thought. Connor silently wondered how Damian could have known something like that.

More than likely, though, he hadn't. A lot of people who knew Connor guessed he had muggle blood mixed in with his own, he wasn't a stereotypical Slytherin with ideas about pure bloods taking over the wizarding world. He guessed those people would be right but found it unlikely that the older boy would know just by looking at him.

" Low self esteem? " Connor scoffed, giving an amused sort of look. " I'm not the one who needs to entertain myself by picking on others. " A downfall of a lot of stuck up people, to be sure. He wasn't sure on the state of Damian's own self esteem, nor did he care, but if the older Slytherin would poke fun at Connor's, he felt he had a right to prod back. Even if there was something more than missing out holidays or his wretched cold that was bothering him, the odds were slim to none that he was about to tell Piper about his troubles. Connor was all for meeting new people, but why bother when they would just take something you told them and use it against you?

" I don't like you because you're nosy and cocky. " He corrected with a small nod of his head. " And even if something was bugging me, what makes you think I would tell you? " To be ridiculed for a weakness? He didn't think so.

[Damian Piper]

Of course the other boy had a right to prod back! The game was no fun if he alone did all the work, for Merlin's sake what life had this boy grown up in? Was he that sheltered, that compassionate to all living souls and puppy-krups? If he was trying for the award for most pathetic life he had allot of competition, but it seemed that wouldn't stop him either. What really made this game ingenious was that had no rules or objectives, had infinite variations and could be played anywhere, anytime he chose. All he needed was a single person and those would be plentiful for some time. Unless the world picked tomorrow to end, in which case the game would be continued in whatever afterlife he got placed in. Surely one of those 'Gods' would have to take him.

"I don't like you because you're nosy and cocky. And even if something was bugging me, what makes you think I would tell you?"

Nosy? NOSY?! Ha, what a hypocritical twit. He either didn't know it, or maybe he just didn't care to admit it, but everyone was nosy. Everyone wanted to know something and would go to great lengths to get at it, Damian didn't really care what he was told. He could make something of nothing and tell someone's best friend, ruin someone's day with a simple twist of words if he desired, he didn't need the truth nor did he care if his name was mentioned. People expected him to lie, to deceive, all he had to do was make his lie small enough and believable. It had worked before, worked for so many others as well. He didn't need Manning's life story of his problems, addictions or fantasies. He was just killing his time here because in five short months none of this would have to matter ever again.

"Tch. I don't need to pry to know your troubles Manning. Especially not when spinning fiction is so much easier and painless." He paused. "I'm not nosy, because I don't really give a damn about anything you might happen to tell me. Cocky, well, if I'm cocky then what does that make you? Submissive? Subservient? Who are you Manning, I mean if you can know me so well, surely you already know who you are then."

Just killing time because it was the only thing worth really doing with it.

[Connor Manning]

To amuse himself in ways other than strangling Damian in the hallway, Connor began thinking of ways his day had gone wrong, starting with waking up. Something as small and simple as that was easy to write off as an innocent thing, but Connor knew better. If he hadn’t woken up on time to be the diligent student he preferred to be than he would have had more sleeping, making him less irritable towards Piper.

While Connor was sure he would have found the older Slytherin’s patronizing tone annoying at any given time, rain or shine, his lack of sleep only increased the severity of his annoyance. And who paid for it then? Connor paid the price for it alone. It would certainly only be amusement to others, seeing him squirm as he tried to think of ways out of this conversation.

Number two on his list was going to lessons. He wouldn’t have cared waking up so early if he could have just fallen back asleep, leaving his sick body behind for a few hours to venture off into a dream world. As he stood in front of Piper, Connor wished for nothing more than to sleep. And be away from the older boy.

He listened to his bit, his expression varying between annoyance, amusement, and a passive look. He allowed for a few seconds gap before he said anything back. “ Why ask me who I am? You seem to be able to see through everyone here, what should make me so different? “

[Damian Piper]

"Why ask me who I am? You seem to be able to see through everyone here, what should make me so different?"

"Because I can on occasion be wrong, besides, even if I am right, I don't mind the extra amsusement from seeing how little you know." Damian retorted with a barely bemused chuckle. Manning really was a trip, heck all of Hogwarts was in some way or another when it came down to telling the sickles from the galleons. Most of them were Muggle-cuddling twits, blood traitors, or just plain poor. As for the fair few that weren't any of those three, well they were simply outnumbered and outkast respectively.

It was a pity he didn't really mind it. His wealth put him on a whole separate plain of existince anyway, to be separated again because of it among his peers was neither new or even remotely demeening. If anything the fact that they held his perfection against him was more amusing than anything else about them, that they would hate him merely because he held something that most of them would never even manage to lay eyes on... Ha. How pathetic.

"Tell you what, I'll leave you a choice. You can either give me your self-image, or you can tell me who the lass is who's had your head shoved so far into the clouds lately."

Yes, he could make distasteful choices too. The third option of course was for Conner to pick neither and walk away, but Damian was fairly certain he'd poked more than a handful of necessary buttons by now.

(Sorry, completely forgot about this >.<;; If you don't think you can rewind your mental clock far enough, it's all good)