Ignition // Rakan and Marluxia
@avistarantallegra
A commonly known fact is that Veela blood is incredibly potent; typically, even half-breeds with the slightest sliver of Veela heritage will at least attract more attention than their equally beautiful non-Veela peers. It’s the allure that gets passed down, nothing more. A lesser-known fact: half-breeds can definitely sense other half-breeds. It’s instinctual, instant... Marly knows the moment he looks at Rakan for the first time that the jerk is half Veela.
That, however, is not what pisses him off the most.
They’re in rival houses, so it’s natural that they’d fail to get along perfectly. Marly has never in his life wanted to befriend a Gryffindor, and Rakan checks off all the boxes that make Marly seriously consider learning the killing curse. But the worst fucking part isn’t how irritating Rakan is, but rather how beautiful he is.
Marly is more than aware it’s the Veela blood. He knows how that works. He’s a sixteenth Veela himself. But Rakan? Oh god. His blood is much more prevalent than Marly’s own. He can tell by how people are generally drawn more to him than to Marly when they’re in a room together, how Rakan is generally all around well liked(even by strangers), and worst of all, how despite all his grievances with the guy, Marly himself still wants to fucking stare into his eyes and call him beautiful.
What the actual fuck.
He’s able to hand it for the most part until Rakan literally backs the fuck into him during a trip to Hogsmeade. Marly jumps back, turning and drawing his wand. He doesn’t know who he expects, but it’s certainly not Rakan. They’ve barely ever spoken, but the magical creature blood they share is enough to have him tensing, sneering, and hissing out, “if you wanted to hit me so badly, you should’ve fucking done so in Defense class.”
He’s being an ass, he always is, but Rakan’s presence right now is enough to make his blood boil. Vaguely, he processes the irony of their location; they’re at the Hog’s Head Inn, and duelling here means starting a literal bar fight- Marly doesn’t give a shit. “Well pretty, boy, are you going to fucking say something?” He taunts.
