Dallas Rolf || Fourth Year || Chaser for Slytherin || Parselmouth Bad attitude and proud of it. I've got two moms, and if that bothers you, I've got to say that I couldn't care less. I'm opinionated, I'm lazy, and if I don't try in the first place, I never will. Don't fuck with me, bitches.
Time: Late morning, after first classes have ended.
Notes: Dallas stumbles into Randall amid his own confusion. Randall happily takes advantage of this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.Â
Extra Notes:Â
Heâd never really had to chase down his prey before, since usually they stayed put when he got to them, but Randall had to admit that the chase was nothing if not exhilarating.  Even if the boy was one of the few that had gotten past him, that had bested him, something Randall most certainly would never admit.  The sight of Dallasâ robe flapping behind him as the Slytherin attempted to flee, the scents of fear and desperation following behind, the sound of the boyâs voice, all of it only fueled Randall as he practically hunted Dallas down.  He couldnât help but let a cackle slip through his lips as he drew closer to the smaller male, and grinned when his prey turned and looked at him with fear in his eyes. Â
The only thing Randall absolutely didnât like about this was the fact that Dallas seemed to be pulling ahead. Â Not for long, he thought with yet another smirk, pouring on the speed. Â Soon, he was close enough to grab at the boyâs robes as they flapped tantalizingly behind him, but he didnât want to stop Dallas like that. Â No, he wanted to prove his dominance over the younger male, wanted the boy beneath him, pinned and helpless as Randall picked him apart. Â Another growl rumbled through him as Randall launched himself at Dallas, tackling the younger male to the stone floor. Â Flipping him, Randall pinned Dallas face up beneath him with strong hands on the boyâs slender shoulders. Â Eyes still wholly black, the Gryffindor grinned down at him, the thrill of the catch thrumming through his veins. Â âI think you should apologize for that, Dallas. Â Really, that wasnât a nice thing to do to someone who just wants to help.â
DALLAS ROLF
The next growl sent Dallas flying down the hall, but somewhere within him, he knew it wasn't enough. That growl was one of cruel victory, of dominance, and it most certainly not in his favor. He practically sensed when Randall leapt for him and a soft cry, quiet, and all too full of something like surrender, emitted from him just before Randall's weight crashed into him, slamming him down to the ground. Before he could gather his wits and fight back in any way, Randall had him pinned upwards, the older boy staring down at him with pure black eyes. Dallas went still and silent for a second before giving a strangled scream, renewing his struggles. Demon no longer seemed to be a figurative term, and so it was that Dallas's fear grew tenfold. Half-cries of, "No!" and "Let me go!" were attempted to be said, but Dallas's main efforts were being used towards an escape, despite Randall's strength and body holding him down.
"I don't owe you an apology!" he finally managed to say. "You weren't trying to help me!" He wriggled and flailed, but something in him, maybe something like pride and self-preservation, something so odd as those, kept him from screaming for help. It was almost like he felt deep inside that either he could get away by himself or not at all, no other option. When an object poked his leg, Dallas recalled in an instant his wand. 'Will the same tactic work twice?' he thought desperately, already knowing that he couldn't spend too long thinking on it, or else he would somehow give himself away to Randall. Continuing his struggles just in case his ad hoc plan failed as well as to keep, Dallas wrenched out his wand and almost convulsively shouted, "Stupefy!"
All the same, it was a weak spell now, and while it blew Randall back down the hall a good ways, Dallas knew already that he was neither unconscious nor would he be down for long. But it was enough. Dallas scrambled to his feet and hauled himself down the hall, feet hardly touching the ground for more than a moment, legs a blur. At last there was a bend in the hall, and Dallas could hear the faint sound of people. Practically sobbing with relief, Dallas dashed into the hall, soon finding a crowd of people staring at himself. Relief practically bringing tears to his eyes and an ear-to-ear smile rising, Dallas shouted, "Late for class!" as his excuse and kept of running, tiredness forgotten in the euphoria of escape.
Time: Late morning, after first classes have ended.
Notes: Dallas stumbles into Randall amid his own confusion. Randall happily takes advantage of this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.Â
Extra Notes:Â
The boy trapped in front of him was absolutely terrified of him, fear coming off him in waves, and Randall hadnât even needed to let his eyes go black.  He hadnât even needed to really say anything to Dallas, either.  It seemed like the Slytherin was terrified mainly by his very presence at the mouth of the alcove as he blocked Dallasâ escape route.  Standing with his face as close as it was to the other maleâs, Randall could feel the small, shaky puffs of breath coming from the male, carrying the tang of fear on each exhale.  Instead of heeding Dallasâ cries for him to stop, Randall just tightened his grip on the boyâs hair and yanked again, wanting to hear him yelp and wanting to see him struggle to free himself.
He was so focused on getting that particular reaction that he wasnât prepared for the boy twisting suddenly, pointing his wand at Randall and shouting a spell too quickly for Randall to hear.  The results of the boyâs spell were far from satisfactory, a fact Randall discovered as he was thrown out of the alcove, landing on his back with a dull thud and a pained whoosh of breath.  Barely a second later, he both heard and smelled his prey darting out of the alcove and running down the hall away from him.  âDallas!â he called with yet another half-swallowed growl, pushing himself to his feet and drawing his own wand.  The boy was too delicious to let go, at least, not until heâd had his fill of Dallas.  Oh, but his prey would pay for this, somehow.  Voicing that thought on a snarl, Randall gave chase, letting his eyes go completely black.  Dallas was his.
DALLAS ROLF
The growl managed to reach Dallas, despite the space his was putting between himself and Randall. That snarl, however, seemed to sound much closer, and sent cold shivers up and down his spine. Taking a deep gulp of air, Dallas ran faster, robes flowing and snapping behind him, fear broiling in the pit of his stomach, adrenaline singing through his veins. "Leave..me..alone!" he shouted, his voice pure desperation, not daring to turn his head for fear of how close Randall might be. He could already hear the racing footsteps behind him, pounding relentlessly on the cold stone floor. His breathing sped up, his heart was beating like the wings of a hunted bird, his throat cold as his breath came hot, his mind clouded and containing a single, strong desire: escape.
Randall cackled behind him, with his stomach dropping and his heart pausing for briefest of pained moments, Dallas turned his head to see Randall so, so close, smiling, demented, a nightmare come to life. A sob tore from Dallas's throat as he pushed himself further, faster, closer to whatever escape must be ahead. His muscles were screaming their protest, but Dallas's instincts were stronger. For a second, he felt that he must be trained to ignore pain, to gain your victory at whatever cost. He didn't know where he learned his from, though sights of the sky flashed through his mind, but he clung to it. 'Escape, escape, escape.' His mantra, his goal, his single, simple need. To escape the demon. But Randall was so close now Dallas could hear his breath past his own ringing blood. He refused to be caught, but that seemed like it wasn't in the cards. 'Oh, God, what is going to happen to me?!'
Time: Late morning, after first classes have ended.
Notes: Dallas stumbles into Randall amid his own confusion. Randall happily takes advantage of this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.Â
Extra Notes:Â
Ah, there it was.  The fear, the confusion, all of it.  And even better, the defiance was all but gone now, chased away by what Randall had caused.  Itâd been eclipsed for a short moment by frustration, yet another emotion Randall really didnât like, but even that disappeared in time.  Pure, basic, primal fear replaced it as he pushed Dallas all the way flat against the wall in front of him.  Even better than all of that, though, Randall could tell his prey was completely rattled, absolutely lost by his actions.  And that was just perfect.  It was clear in the younger maleâs eyes that Randall had reduced him to nothing but the base instinct to run, to flee.  Oh how he loved it when he got that particular reaction.  It was hard to get his toys to the point where they had to choose between fight or flight.  Obviously Dallas had chosen the latter.  Too bad Randall wouldnât let him go, oh no.
Then, another emotion came into play, one that only slightly mellowed out the tang of pure fear and made it all the more delicious.  He recognized it by the sickly sweet smell: worry.  He had the boy back where he wanted him, shaken, scared, perfect.  And then, as if to sweeten the deal, the boy started pleading with him, begging.  It was all just too good, honestly.  âWhat do I want?â he repeated, looking the boy over slowly, devouring every detail with his eyes.  âYou know, I think I want you just like this.  Scared.  Cowering.â  He broke off with a chuckle as he leaned back from Dallas.  âItâs delicious.â  Randall tangled a hand in the Slytherinâs hair, forcing him to look up at the Gryffindor.
DALLAS ROLF
Dallas's stomach knotted and twisted, and a little groaning noise, one of fear and ill worry, rattled from his throat. Randall looked so happy, so very pleased, and for Dallas, that was one of the scariest things. As his breath came in and out in shaky little puffs, Randall decided it fit to answer his question. Dallas looked almost as if he'd been slapped. "Scared? Cowering? Delicious? What is... What?!' Before he had any more time to process that startling answer, Randall had his hand firmly anchored in Dallas's hair, and with a painful wank that almost made Dallas yelp, the twos' eyes were inches apart, each staring right into the other. "Randall!" he gasped out, a tremor running through him. "Stop!"
Realizing Randall's hands weren't on his arms anymore, Dallas made the quick decision to make use of whatever distraction his emotions and reactions were serving to get away, no deliberation needed. "Flipendo!" he shouted, pointing his wand at Randall. Randall was thrown back, his hand ripping painfully out of Dallas's hair. But he ignored this and as soon as the few seconds it took to regain his own senses, Dallas leapt up out of the alcove, avoiding Randall, who, while he was sprawled on the floor, was already beginning to attempt getting up. Thankfully, no one was around, but Dallas wasn't sure that that would be such a blessing soon enough. So, wand in hand and five spells on the tip of his tongue, Dallas turned and ran as fast as he could down the hall, praying that he could outrun Randall and just get away.
Notes: Dallas sees Brenda alone in the Restricted Section and is concerned about the blatant rule breaking.
Other:
Brenda raised her own eyebrow in return to Dallasâs raised one. His frown caused a bit of a smirk to reappear on her face. However, when Dallas moved to assist Brenda in her moment of dizziness, she shot a withering glance at him, practically daring him to cast a spell on her, even if it was to help her. She wouldnât stand for having spells cast on her without permission, which Brenda certainly wasnât about to give him. Brenda nearly reached for her own wand, but decided against it. She didnât want to cause him to run off and tell a teacher, which was something Brenda desperately wanted to avoid. A teacher would ruin everything at this point.
Dallas walked closer to her, and Brenda didnât appreciate that, which she let him know only by scowling at the younger boy. She eyed him carefully, wondering if he was going to come closer, which would start problems he probably wasnât prepared to deal with. Her eyes warned him of what would happen should he choose to push her boundaries. âMore against the rules than being in the Restricted Section?â Brenda asked, feigning shock. Then, sarcastically, âWhy, I wouldnât dare.â She smirked. âMaybe you should mind your own business, Slytherin.â A tiny voice in the back of her head encouraged her to take a step back, but she pushed it away, wondering where it came from in the first place. Brenda wasnât one to back down, ever. If it came to it, she would fight it out with Dallas.Â
Dallas:
It was more than obvious that Brenda didn't want help. Dallas was beyond confused now. Everything seemed wrong. Something in the most distant parts of his mind was trying to communicate to him what that wrongness was, but it was too far away. All he was getting was that Brenda wasn't supposed to be like this. She wasn't this snappy, waspish, confident person that was now glaring at him from behind the ornate metal separator. Her hand moved towards her wand, and Dallas took a step back, putting his own wand back where it had come from, making note not to bring it out again. He wondered briefly why she hadn't cast some sort of hex on him; she seemed the type, despite whatever that odd-one-out piece of his mind had to say.
But more time passed, and he went closer. Brenda didn't look too happy about that. In fact, she looked quite thunderous, and not just a bit annoyed. She was sarcastic and flippant, and Dallas couldn't understand what her reasoning was. He just wanted to help. He'd even offered to help her locate whatever it was she was looking for, so she could get out quicker. 'It must be bad, then. Very, very bad.' Once again, he backed away, holding his hands up slightly. "Alright, Brenda. You want to be so defensive over this, then I'll just go away. I just wanted to help a fellow Mu-" His mouth clamped shut, his eyes going wide. He knew what he was, but something told him that no one else did. He shook his head. "No, no," he said quietly, raking a hand through his hair. "You're... You're Halfblood, right? I mean, this doesn't really have anything to do with anything. I just wanted to help, but if you're so dead set against it, I'll just go away." He turned a hair too sharply, stiffly, and gathered the few things he had brought with him, making to get away from Brenda and his near-slip up as fast as he could.
Time: Late morning, after first classes have ended.
Notes: Dallas stumbles into Randall amid his own confusion. Randall happily takes advantage of this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.Â
Extra Notes:Â
He couldnât smell the fear or confusion anymore.  All Dallas was exuding now was that fiery, smokey scent of defiance, which really wasnât alright.  No, no, that meant his control was slipping, meant he wasnât going to be able to pick at the boy, meant he might actually have to pull out the black eyes and all to gain back any of the ground heâd just lost.  He frowned thunderously at the boy in front of him, fingers tightening yet again on Dallasâ arm, almost enough to leave bruises.  None of this was okay, none of it.  Randall could feel his control slipping dangerously through his fingers, something he never wanted to happen. Â
The words spilling out of Dallasâ mouth only served to make him angrier, The boy thought he could tell Randall what to do?  Oh, hell no.  Hell no.  Randall shoved off the other male with a barely restrained growl.  "And if I donât let you leave?  Whatâll you do then, Dallas, hmm?â  He leaned back into the younger boyâs space, smirk firmly plastered on his lips.  âBecause let me tell you, I really donât care about thisâŠÂ reputation you think I have.  I really donât, so honestly there isnât anything stopping me from keeping you here, Dallas.â  Both hands were on the wall on either side of Dallasâ head, letting him get close enough to the boyâs face to scare him.  He wanted to smell that fear again, wanted that intoxicating smell permeating the air around the two of them.
DALLAS ROLF
Dallas could see the effect of his words, and was definitely not pleased with their products. Rather than pacifying the Gryffindor, persuading him to take a path that Dallas would find more favorable, it seemed to make him angrier. Dallas wanted to smack himself, a short sigh of frustration hissing past his lips, blowing some hair out of his eyes. The sigh had barely escaped when Randall's fingers tightened again, causing a brief flinch in Dallas, the younger Slytherin's eyes staring alarmedly. Only a few seconds later, Randall shoved Dallas back and himself forward, sending Dallas flat against the wall and rattling his head, his mind going to pieces for a few moments. For a few tiny seconds, Dallas had no coherent thoughts. He was a simple being of few emotions: fear. Beautiful, instinctual fear. He was cornered, trapped, alone with something like a monster. He wanted to get away, and nothing more.
However, Randall's words reached him and snapped him back to reality, just in time for more complex worry-tainted fear to seep back into his stomach, where it had been before his burst of courage. That was all but gone now. It was all he could do to stutter out, "I... I-I, Randall, c'mon, please, I...", not even sure of what he was trying to say any longer, his thoughts still mildly scattered.. And then Randall was back, closer than ever, his very presence nauseatingly overwhelming. Dallas flinched again, choking a gasp back down before it gave away his surprise and whip-lash fear. Staring up into Randall's eyes, he whispered, "What do you want from me?"
Notes: Dallas sees Brenda alone in the Restricted Section and is concerned about the blatant rule breaking.
Other:
Brenda cocked her head to the side as the boy shook his head as if to clear it. Perhaps he was feeling as confused as she was, although she wasnât sure why that made any sense, and she wouldnât admit to him that everything felt just the tiniest bit fuzzy. Her lips turned up at the way he answered both of her questions, supplying his name, which rang a bell in her mind, but was so distant she didnât even acknowledge it. The boy, Dallas, looked a bit unsure of himself, and Brenda wondered if she made him uncomfortable. That thought made her smile grow, although it was more of a smirk, really. When he suggested that they know each other, however, her smirk turned back into a frown. Brenda tried to recall any interaction they may have had, but for nothing. She didnât reply, not wanting to admit that she was a bit confused at the moment.
At first, Brenda only pretended to consider the offer, but then it occurred to her that she couldnât accept it, in any case, because she didnât know what she was looking for in the first place. She hesitated for the tiniest moment, wondering why she would just come to the Restricted Section. With a slight flash, she remembered desperately looking for a book in the Restriction Section in the middle of the night. Just as suddenly, she was back with Dallas. That hadnât made any sense, why would she have been acting like that, nearly crying. It must have been a dream, a nightmare. Still, Brenda reached a hand out to the bookshelf to steady herself. Attempting to cover it up, Brenda said, âI donât need or want your help, Dallas,â she did her best to spit out the boyâs name.Â
Dallas:
Dallas watched intently as Brenda's expressions morphed from one to the next, following her obvious train of thought, the little cogs of her mind almost visible in her blatantly open expressions. She was silent for a long while, leaving Dallas with a bit of worry and concern. 'Have I upset her?' he pondered, trying to think of a single thing he could have done to offend the girl. She made a slight move towards him, looking like she might have a change of heart and accept his offer, and then she hesitated. Dallas raised an eyebrow, giving Brenda an odd look that mirrored his inner wondering and confusion. He frowned as well, and it only deepened as her pause continued.Â
When Brenda began to look a bit pale and unsteady, Dallas stood, hand on his wand, prepared to cast a spell to keep her upright until he could get to her and help her, or at least cushion her fall. But she caught herself, and steadied herself on a bookshelf. Her cover up sentence was  biting, but Dallas hardly minded. She was only trying to make herself look a bit more intimidating, powerful, maybe, Dallas realized. Rather than sitting down, he walked closer to her. "Why not? Are you trying to do something even more so against school rules?" he asked, tilting his head to the side a bit. "I may not be the prefect here, but I am a good student, and I just want to keep you out of trouble."
Notes: Dallas sees Brenda alone in the Restricted Section and is concerned about the blatant rule breaking.
Other:
A slight frown graced Brendaâs face as she walked slowly through the aisles. Nothing leapt out at her, as she had expected it would. So she continued walking through, ignoring the sound her feet made against the floor. She didnât particularly care if anyone heard her. Confidence flowed through her, reminding her that she could talk her way out of just about anything. In any case, it was unlikely that she would run into anyone. Someone must have been listening to her thoughts, just to spite her, because immediately after the thought flitted through her head, someone called her name.
She didnât know him, and didnât particularly care to. Slytherinâs werenât really Brendaâs style, as far as she could remember. âCan I help you?â She asked a bit haughtily. He looked upset, and Brenda couldnât really fathom the reason behind this. Why would it matter to him if she was in the restricted section. And then he wanted to know why she was there. Her frown deepened. Brenda considered just ignoring him, but she couldnât really risk him running off to tell the librarian. âThatâs not really any of your business, now is itâŠ.?â She trailed off, waiting for him to offer a name. She felt like she should recognize him, at least a little bit, but her head had been feeling a little fuzzy all morning. And it wasnât as if his name really mattered to her anyway. Perhaps she didnât remember him because she didnât really care. Yes, that was it, and why should she care?
Dallas:
She was frowning it seemed, and Dallas wondered why. The whole situation was odd. From what few details he could recall, Brenda was a rather quieter, shier person. But here she was, her posture almost arrogant, her position in a place where she, a prefect, wasn't supposed to be, a lofty frown on her lips. It confused Dallas, and he shook his head, rattling and shattering his more distracted, worrisome thoughts. She looked up at him, startling him with her rather cold look. He quickly erased whatever little he thought he had known about Brenda and decided to treat her as a stranger, or maybe a very old, distant acquaintance.
"Um... Not really..." he answered quietly, unsure if the question was rhetorical. She really was rather biting in her tone, and Dallas tried his best to take no offence to it. "Dallas," he answered, filling in the empty space at the end of her sentence. "And I'm rather sure we know one another. I just didn't want you to get into any trouble, Brenda." He shrugged a bit, looking at her with an open, slightly friendly sort of look. "I don't mean to be a bother. Maybe I could actually help after all? I know where some books are, in there... Not sure how or why, but I believe I do." It was a bothersome thought, knowing and even admitting that he had broken the rules. But since she was as well, maybe it would help her put a bit of trust in him, despite that irony. He offered up a slight smile.
Time: Late morning, after first classes have ended.
Notes: Dallas stumbles into Randall amid his own confusion. Randall happily takes advantage of this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.Â
Extra Notes:Â
The boy couldnât even look him in the eye, choosing instead to focus on a point just past Randallâs feet. Â His grin grew as he watched the boy shift from emotion to emotion, each scent mixing with the overall smell in the air around him and dissipating within moments. Â It only got better as he watched a shiver run through Dallas; this was the best set of reactions Randall had seen in a long while. Â It wasnât just fear, it wasnât just confusion, it wasnât just one single emotion. Â It was a mix of almost too many to pick apart and name, and it was beautiful.
The first one was the obvious one, the one that had followed Dallas and had driven Randall into placing himself into the Slytherinâs path: confusion. Â Confusion had a peppery smell to it, almost like someone had thrown a handful or two of the black powder into the air. Â Then there was the tangy, chemical-like smell of fear, yet another obvious scent Randall was expecting from the boy in front of him. Â Thereâd also been a flash of the light, citrusy scent of relief, but thatâd only lasted for a mere moment before fear and confusion overwhelmed it. Â It was easier to smell everything when he got closer to people, and then there was the added bonus that getting into their personal space usually took them by surprise. Â Dallas was no different in that respect.
But then, just as Randall was settling into the method heâd chosen to really play with the kid in front of him, something changed. Â His scent changed. Â His body language changed. Â The tone of his voice changed. Â Eyes narrowing, Randall inhaled through his nose, hoping to detect something his eyes couldnât, something that could tell him what had given the boy a reason to change. Â There it was, the disappearing scent of ozone, of shock. Â Another breath caught the fiery, smokey scent of defiance, and Randall frowned down at Dallas. Â Even the fear was starting to dissipate, and that was just not alright, not at all. Â His free arm moved fast, and he gripped Dallasâ upper arm tightly, as a warning. Â âI wouldnât do anything stupid, Dallas, darling. Â We wouldnât want you getting hurt now, would we?â Â He stared into the Slytherinâs eyes, and tightened the grip on Dallasâ arm almost imperceptibly. Â He wanted the younger male to know that he wasnât to be messed with, but he didnât want to bring the big guns out all of a sudden. Â No, now wasnât the time.
DALLAS ROLF
One second was too long. Dallas arm was practically pinned to the wall behind him, Randalls' hand holding it in an iron grip, a dangerous sort of searching expression on the Gryffindors' face. But Dallas had known in the milliseconds before that Randall had figured it out. He didn't know how, but he had, and now there was a nearly zero percent chance that Dallas would make it out without some sort of altercation. Unless Randall let him go, a thought that Dallas dismissed with incredulous ease. The fear, however, didn't return. The confusion was gone now too, as Dallas was too focused on the task at hand to worry about the complex wrongness of himself. And in doing this, he sunk into himself, the potion that changed him now deeply seated throughout his body. Dallas was Dallas, and while he was not like his old self, he was simply a changed person, nothing more.
He sat rigidly with silent defiance, staring up into Randall's eyes, even as the almost saccharine words left his mouth. "I don't plan on doing anything stupid, Randall." He older boys' fingers just barely flexed, but he could feel it all the same. Dallas wondered if he's hit a nerve. he took a deep breath and stared up into those eyes in front of him. "But whatever it is that you plan on doing... Just let it go. Let me go. We don't need to do anything, Randall. You have a reputation, don't you? So just let. me. go." They were two opposing forces, and while Dallas didn't know what the drive behind Randalls' actions was, he was determined that he would escape them all the same.
Time: Late morning, after first classes have ended.
Notes: Dallas stumbles into Randall amid his own confusion. Randall happily takes advantage of this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.Â
Extra Notes:Â
Dallas seemed unsettled by Randallâs very presence, a fact that brought a smirk to the Gryffindorâs lips as he loomed over the boy. Â It wouldnât take long to make this one squirm, not at all. Â Especially since all it seemed he had to do was loom over the boy and stare at him. Â Not long at all, really. Â He didnât know much about the Slytherin, though he knew heâd met him once or twice before. Â Maybe those were just run-ins, rather than full on conversations. Â In the small alcove, the peppery scent was almost overwhelming, but deliciously so rather than annoying. Â Confusion was a beautiful thing, but Randall wanted to add a little something to the mix.
Letting the smirk fade away in favour of a worried look that didnât quite reflect in his eyes, Randall leaned forward and placed a deceptively gentle hand on Dallasâ shoulder. Â âIâm just worried about you, Dallas. Â You looked so lost and confused out there in the hallway, and with this whole potion thing, I just thought it was necessary to check up on you. Â That is part of my job as prefect, you know.â Â With a quick squeeze, Randall let go and leaned back against the wall, eyes never leaving Dallas as he did so. Â
He crossed his arms again, staring down at the sitting Slytherin.  âSo, Dallas.  Are you alright, blah, blah, blah⊠You know, I donât really care about how youâre doing.  You just looked so deliciously confused out there, I had to have you for myself.â  The smirk reappeared as he pushed off the wall again and leaned into Dallasâ personal space, using a hand placed against the wall behind the boy to balance.  His face was inches from the younger maleâs, all the better to scent the air around him.  He really did love this, when he was able to play with his toys in a private, secluded place.  Itâd been far too long, really.
DALLAS ROLF
Randall looked worried for him,which for about three seconds, actually comforted Dallas. But then he looked into the Gryffindor's eyes and saw something else. Something that didn't quite match the mask. An almost queasy feeling fluttered in Dallas's stomach, and he shivered, dropping his gaze to the floor out in the hallway, a place wanted but so inaccessible to him. Randall blocked his path fully, and Dallas was beginning to grow much more anxious about his own well-being.
Randall placed a hand on his shoulder, and Dallas flinched back, eyes jumping back up to Randall's, a pang of fear shooting through him. But the other boys' words were nice enough, and so Dallas clung to the hope that maybe he was just blowing things out of proportion. "This whole potion thing is really throwing me off. I mean... I have to be me. How can I not? But nothing is really right. I just... I don't know, Randall." Dallas sighed and ran a hand through his hair, closing his eyes for a moment, trying to make the situation seem more normal.
"Thanks for checking up on me, though. You're a pretty good prefect." Dallas chuckled, an attempt at lightheartedness. Randall squeezed his shoulder, and this time Dallas didn't flinch. The older boy moved back, and Dallas began to truly relax, to let go of that nervous anxiety that had been gripping him. But then Randall spoke again, and all of that was going, going, gone. A smirk resurfaced on Randall's face, and before Dallas had a chance to do much of anything, Randall's face was disturbingly close to his, those words, "for myself" bouncing around in his head. Dallas's fright-widened eyes stared into Randalls' menacing ones, his breath hitching in his throat. "W-what.... what do you mean?" he whispered, have an actual question, half a bid for more time to conjure up some escape plan. A ripple of shock traveled through him as his hand brushed his wand, and he almost smiled. 'Now, just a simple stunning spell, and I can get away.' He took a deep breath, getting a good grip on his wand, still staring into Randall's eyes, but with less fear now. One more second, and he would be free from whatever this was. 'One. more. second.'
Brenda stepped lightly as she walked into the library. She couldnât explain it, but she felt⊠good. Better than she remembered feeling in a long time. Her whole body felt different, more awake, more alive almost. A smile fell across her face as she strode directly towards the restricted section, hardly even glancing around her to notice the other students. They noticed her, however. Her smile didnât falter, even though she distantly remembered a time when she would have shied away from the attention. It wasnât even a memory, more like a childhood dream. She shrugged; it wasnât as if it mattered, anyway.
Even as she stepped past the sign that informed her that this section was for sixth years and up only, Brenda wasnât sure what she was looking for. But she wanted to come here, to find something. Perhaps it would call out to her when she saw it. A smirk that felt customary graced her lips as she surveyed the books in front of her. So far, nothing was calling out, but Brenda had all the time in the world today. Nothing would distract her until she found what she was looking for, whatever it may be. The task filled her mind completely, and she blocked out the rest of her surroundings, not needed the distractions.
Dallas:
He was alone with his thoughts, finally finding some peace. He had a book in his hands, the calming Muggle childhood stories on the pages that were so familiar to him like soothing silk against his feverishly busy mind. He was sitting cross-legged in a push old chair, bookshelves on three and a half sides of him. That one open half allowed a view at the usually empty Restricted Section, but Dallas didn't mind. It wasn't like anyone would be in there, causing his rule-abiding soul any trouble. He was absorbed in the sweetly simple tales of Rumpelstiltskin and Jack the Giant Killer. He chuckled at their darkness, and yet accepted and loved them anyhow, cherishing them even now, despite his age.
But footsteps echoing from the Restricted section - the floors in there were different from the rest of the library - brought him out of his reverie, and Dallas turned his head to look at whoever was there, troubled already. He was surprised to recognize, albeit faintly so, the person there. A girl named Brenda, a rather nice Hufflepuff prefect he had seen and heard about throughout his times at Hogwarts. 'What is she doing in the Restricted Section?' he fretted, wringing his hands as he set his book aside. "Brenda?" he called quietly, so that he wouldn't attract the attention of anyone else and get Brenda in trouble. He would just help her get out without being noticed and everything would be okay, except  a bit of guilt he knew would stay with him. 'Oh well. I'd rather help someone and feel a bit guilty than not help at all. I would feel even worse then.' "What are you doing in the Restricted Section?"
Time: Late morning, after first classes have ended.
Notes: Dallas stumbles into Randall amid his own confusion. Randall happily takes advantage of this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.Â
Extra Notes:Â
Instead of going to his morning classes, like he knew he was supposed to, Randall had stationed himself in a sort of hidden alcove in the wall of one of Hogwartsâ main corridors, content to just watch the people go by. Â By now, heâd heard about this potion someone slipped everyone, and had to grant whoeverâd done it some grudging admiration. Â Itâd been a wonderful idea, really; everyone milling around him was just so perfectly off-balance, confused as to who old friends were before, or how they fit in with the people around them. Â He was extremely glad he hadnât been affected by the potion; he didnât want to miss any of this delicious confusion. Â
One student caught his eye in particular, a Slytherin. Â The boy was young, younger even than the Hufflepuff heâd been planning on playing with. Â Randall tracked the boy as he moved through the corridor, drawing ever closer. Â It was oh so obvious the boy was lost in the effects of the potion, confusion etched into every line on his face and saturating the air around him with an intoxicating peppery scent. Â Every now and then, the boy would adopt a rather shocked expression, before it morphed back into confusion. Â When the boy stopped to stare at a set of twins, Randall couldnât help but step out into his path, wanting to see more of this boy.
He hadnât exactly expected the boy to run straight into him, however. Â No, heâd been planning for at most a side-on collision between the two, maybe a glancing blow. Â So when the younger male walked into him and stumbled backwards, Randall had to fight a sudden flare of anger. Â Tamping it down so his eyes didnât shift, he instead drew himself upright, making it clear he wasnât to be messed with. Â The peppery scent intensified when the boy looked up at him, mouth hanging open in a wonderful impression of a fish out of water. Â Dallas, he remembered. Â His name is Dallas.
It took quite a bit of patience to listen to the boy ramble; Randall would have to shut him up somehow. Â He wasnât truly listening to Dallas, however, choosing instead to run through ideas on how to play with this one. Â Realizing he didnât have much to go on for the younger Slytherin, Randall picked what he called his âumbrella tacticâ. Â Heâd throw the boy off-balance by shifting and changing his own actions until he settled on one that really worked. Â A short chuckle escaped him as he watched the boy think. Â Oh, but Dallas was such an open book; it was so easy to see the gears turning in his head. Â
âIâm fine, Dallas,â he reassured the boy with a grin, tilting his head and crossing his arms. Â The boy was already starting to cower, though Randall had to commend him for not showing it in either his voice or his expression. Â His eyes narrowed slightly, taking in every detail of the boy: his robes, his hair, even the pitch and tone of his voice. Â âMaybe you should sit down, though, you donât look so good.â Â Without waiting for a response, Randall gripped the boy by his elbow and dragged him over to the alcove heâd been standing in not long ago. Â Standing in the narrow entrance to the hidden spot, Randall had effectively cornered the Slytherin, getting ready to pick at him until Dallas was squirming in front of him.
DALLAS ROLF
For a moment, Dallas was relieved that Randall was alright. It showed in his posture as it untightened, relaxed a bit, his eyes lightening slightly, though he was still more nervous than anything else. There was something off about Randall. He was so...chilled. Every move seemed to be calculated, and Dallas could tell that his thoughts were running a million a minute just by looking in those brown eyes of his. The relaxed look retreated, and Dallas went to take a safe step back, to give him enough room to make a polite goodbye and then turn tail and flee the almost disturbing presence that was Randall.
Randall beat him to speaking, however, pointing out that Dallas didn't look too good at the moment. Dallas would have had to agree. The odd, itching sensation that filled him, the one that felt like he were two shells, shifting against one another, trying to fit together, it wasn't going away and it was beginning to put him on edge. He was going to agree, and thank him for the advice, but Dallas only had time for his thoughts, not his words, before Randall grabbed his elbow. He started, eyes staring widely at Randall's back, his lips freezing as the words he was going to say died in his throat. He didn't put up much resistance, but he could have been more helpful in moving himself. The truth was, he really did not want to be anywhere with Randall, especially not somewhere where the boy forcibly too him. That just screamed danger, and yet, there he was.
He was pushed into an alcove, stumbling back, forgetting to breath as his overloaded mind tried to work out what was going on. By the time he managed to gather his thoughts together and put them in some sort of helpful, sensible order, it was too late to put that sort of mindset to use. The only exit from the small space was fully taken up by Randall, his arms crossed over his chest, a dark smirk on the boys' lips. Dallas bit his own lips, hesitantly sitting down on the seat in the alcove. "I... Okay. Sitting now...so...um... Why am I sitting here, exactly? Did you need to speak to me?" he asked, wondering why Randall would need to speak to him in this sort of suspiciously private place when the two hardly knew one another.
Time: Late morning, after first classes have ended.
Notes: Dallas stumbles into Randall amid his own confusion. Randall happily takes advantage of this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.Â
Extra Notes:Â
Dallas whipped his head to the side to stare at them, and recognizing them as a pair of Muggleborn twins, he was about to tell them to, âShut the fuck up, you Mudbloods.â when he again shut himself down on the very idea, and with a very befuddled expression, Dallas simply turned around and walked off, bag hanging dejectedly off of his shoulder. The very idea of calling someone such an atrocious name suddenly seemed like a horrific crime- but heâd never had this sort of problem before. âWhatâs going on? I know who I am, but Iâm not who I should be. This is...this is terrible and it needs to fucking stop.â Even as the expletive crossed his mind, Dallas reddened with shame, worrying someone might read his mind. His glances slid about, looking for any sort of scandalized-looking person, worry on his face. He shuddered a bit, and it was a few quiet moments before Dallas realized he was slipping.
Even as he grasped this concept, the fact that he wasnât himself - he was a body with a changing heart, and morphing mind - it fell away, and he was only left with a murky sense of wonder and worry. That too was falling from him, and slowly, he forgot all of those worries and troubles of moments ago. All he knew was who he was- he was Dallas Rolf, a fourth year with a big charade on his shoulders, trying to appear as something better than he was. And for it, he loved those of his own kind, even though he was a bit jealous of their freedom. Muggleborns. He felt like he would do anything to protect one from slander, from any sort of bullying. The fact that he was a tormentor of many Muggleborns never came to his mind. A student passed him as he thought, and he tossed a haphazard, goofy grin at them. They scurried away, much to Dallasâ confusion. âI wonder what thatâs all about, then. Do they not like being smiled at?â Sighing, and still looking over his shoulder at the retreating form of the student, Dallas took two steps forward and smacked into a warm, solid mass.
His heart stuttering and a gasp racing from his throat, Dallas started almost violently as he rebounded, managing not to fall, but definitely stumbled back a bit. Already looking rather upset, Dallas looked up, his apology half-way out of his lips, when he stopped dead and fell silent. The student he had run into was daunting, and seemed to know it. Dallas blinked, trying to find a name, surprised for a moment when it took so long to remember much of anyone he seemed to know. After some frantic though, the name sluggishly presented itself to him. Looking up at the decidedly irritated older boy, Dallas decided to at least attempt to name him, and re-attempt to apologize.
âRandall? Iâm sorry! I didnât mean to run into you, I was just sort of distracted by some other strange student who apparently didnât like being smiled...at....and Iâm blabbering on like this.â he sighed, casting a worried glanced up at Randall. âAgain, Iâm sorry. You alright?â His voice didnât sound very nervous, nor did his face, but something in Dallasâ posture gave away the fact that he found Randall to be rather intimidating. It didnât help that there was a niggling sort of itch at the back of his mind that was trying to say something about Randall. How this couldnât be Randall. Randall was nice, Randall was a pretty acceptable Gryffindor, as far as Dallas knew, even for a Mudblood... Dallas gave his head a shake, dislodging those thoughts. âCanât be true...canât be true....No. Whatâs wrong with me? Mudblood? What sort of person am I?â For a moment, he was distracted from the whole situation, but was brought back by a derisive chuckle that had the hair on the back of his neck standing on end.
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