Duplicitous | T.N.

VII • Physiological warfare

Theo scoffed at the irony, his two friends snickered at the events. They had both been unaware of Theodore's plans to expose the supposed angel. The boys only thought of Auroras appearance and found it rather adorable and of course, hilarious, that he would be sat next to each other. They were polar opposites.

Aurora Flores was the impersonation of a sweet divinity, a darling saint, a walking flower. She was the definition of the colour yellow. She lacked any flaws and always held a cheery attitude. She was perfect.

Nott on the other hand was a Vicious boy. He wasn't evil. Not at all, but he lacked the ability to express emotions to anyone other than his most trusted individuals. He also lacked the ability to be heartwarming in any way. He wasn't a darkened soul, but rather a broken one. Damned  to never share his true feelings. Unable to share them, on some occasions, even to himself.

He begrudgingly stomped over to her. His friends cackled louder at the similarities he had been sharing with a toddler. Distain was his automatic response, but as he thought about it, it was an opportunity. An opportunity to speak to her. To alienate her. To make her angry. He smirked at his scheme.

He pulled out the matching chair and threw his bag to rest on the table leg. Then he flopped onto his seat like a sack of potatoes. She squinted her eyes at his careless attitude. She stared from the corner of her eyes to attempt to figure him out. He obviously had no care for his manners, or he wouldn't have openly touched her face without her consent. It angered her that he felt he automatically had permission because of his pretty face. He knew he was handsome, and she knew he knew.

So she crossed her arms over her chest and hugged lightly, attempting to bring her attention back to the classroom matters.

"You look like a toddler, Flores." He spoke. His cockiness was overwhelming. "Arms crossed, face all pouty." He then imitated her actions in an exaggerated manner.

"Like you can talk." Was all that she said. A quick jolt of her eyebrows and a quick, very fake smile. 

"Ah, feisty again," he thought aloud. Perfect. He was going to tease her, piss her off. He smirked yet again. To Aurora, it felt like the millionth time she had seen him give that bloody smirk. Oh how she wished to slap it off him.

"Nope, just paying attention to the class." She turned to face him again. Another fake smile. But she genuinely attempted to make it seem real this time. He didn't buy it.

He frowned. Her fiery mood had begun to dwindle. He silently scolded himself for allowing such a perfect moment for exposing her to slip between his fingers. A room full of students, gossipy Gryffindor girls sat in front of them, the rest of the Slytherins in his year. Damnit.

He was going to have to attack with more strength, tenfold, than what he had been approaching her with. She was good. Good at hiding her emotions. Perhaps he was a hypocrite, because he too hid his emotions. He didn't like her. That was reason enough, wasn't it?

He wasn't paying attention to the class anymore, but she was. Of course she had to be so perfect. She could multitask. She could speak and listen, while he had to catch up on the work after their little conversation. It infuriated him. Why was he so angry? It was so peculiar. He had been peeved before but rarely like this. It angered him again that she had such a hold on him. She would talk and all he could do was feel a sudden urge to grip her throat and squeeze the truthful, and most certainly vulgar, words that she was busting to say.

But he couldn't do that. No. He had to be careful with this. Manipulation was a game, but it had to be played precisely. If he added too little pressure he wouldn't receive results, but if he applied too much the consequences would lose him the game. Physiological warfare was exactly like walking the tightrope, it required balance, and he was all the more happy to comply.