𝐃 𝐈 𝐕 𝐈 𝐍 𝐄, 𝐝.𝐦

𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐬 𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐧 𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐦𝐞𝐮𝐬 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐬

"Fuck off." She snapped and Honey flinched. Honey actually flinched away from her.

Adeline straightened her clothes, regained her composure and stepped away from her friends. A crowd had gathered now, the few who had been in the hall to begin had all stopped and watched the brawl. Everyone was silent as they watched her. She could see professors hurrying in, obviously hearing the commotion.

Adeline was going to walk away. She was.

"Fucking psycho." Muttered from besides the injured, a look of disgust and alarm. Draco never had known how to speak up properly. Her mouth was full of blood, lips cut and skin bruised. With heartless muster, she spat down at his feet before she'd been whisked away to the Headmaster's office.

So, it's no surprise Adeline had spent so much time in detention this year; hours cleaning old classrooms and unkempt storage closets, too many nights spent in the forbidden forest, hands cramped from writing lines over and over, headaches after so many of Dumbledore's lectures.

She thinks they're going a little easy on her, to be honest. For a school that wants discipline, that is shaping the minds of the brilliant future and teaching the difference between good and bad, they certainly don't seem to care if students keep showing up to class a little bloody.

Maybe everyone really is too scared of her family. Maybe Dumbledore really just doesn't care at all.

Another new addition to her life is her constant new detention buddy. Dean is always the one who manages to show up when she's serving her time. Always up to no good that kid, or at least just terrible at getting away with it.

He finds the whole thing rather amusing actually, he tells her as much constantly. Their detention usually goes as follows.

"The new Hogwarts' bad girl, huh? What happened to precious little Adeline Levier, wandering off to dance with the fairies and spacing out in class? Did you get bored? Tired of pretending to be someone you're not? I mean, don't get me wrong, I always knew you had it in you but what, pray tell, was your breaking point?"

Adeline doesn't answer, she never does. They're in one of the old classrooms this time, writing lines until the sun comes up.

"Or are you just trying to get the attention of a certain someone? I commend you for your efforts, really, even if they do lack a certain element of subtlety. I don't know if going after his little lap dog is the smartest idea, you could be a little more creative."

Adeline sends a dagger flying, blade skimming Dean's cheek and lodging itself into the wooden shelf behind him.

Dean stands abruptly, his own pages flying. "Watch your fucking temper, Adeline."

He touches his wounds, winces, fingers coming back bloody.

"Just shut up." She mutters, going back to her lines. "What do you care, anyway?"

"Personally, I don't." Dean says, sitting back down with a huff after picking up his work. "But Ryland does."

The unsaid sits obvious in the air.

"You can't keep fighting your battles tooth and nail. You could start by choosing the right ones. Nobody cares about your bite if you're always showing it off."

"That's stupid." Adeline turns back to face him, his desk steps away. "Every one will stop fucking with me this way. They shouldn't bark if they don't bite hard enough."

"So, what? You're waging war against the weak? Little beneath you, don't you think? All powerful witch." He comments, condescending and pointed.

"Is that why you pulled me off Pansy, then?" Adeline can hear her own snark, feel the annoyance bubble under her words. "Choose pacifism unless the person in front of you could kill you?"