[prequel to the "badlands" series]
•Searching for something that I can't reach•
It was ironic that the girl named after a virgin goddess had lost her own in first year.
Artemis Avery was known for one thing: sleeping around. The witty Slytherin gir...
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Artemis flitted in and out of consciousness. She could never be sure what was real and what was a dream; everything was a terrifying, confusing drone that she couldn't escape.
There was a hole in her memory, which Artemis deducted to be her being knocked out after hitting her head on the hard floor. And when her brain, pounding groggily in her skull, had allowed her to wake, Artemis felt hands on her body.
A scream rose and died in her throat. It was Henry Grisham. She was a First Year, everything else had been a dream, and she was going to wake up to a mouth inside her own, a stranger on top of her—
"...is she awake?" a worried female voice asked.
Artemis's eyes were heavy, too heavy to open.
"It doesn't look like it," a boy's voice responded at the same time Artemis felt something hard collide with her arm. "Hey! Be careful, Abel! That's the third wall you've run her into."
"Sorry," Abel muttered. "Shit, there's McGonagall. She's going to be pissed we left detention."
"Obviously she won't be," hissed Marlene. "Can you not see the situation we're in?" Then, her voice changed to something louder and nicer. "Professor!"
And then, Artemis was not able to hang on, and she fell back into the water-filled cell that had become her mind.
And though her eyes were closed, she could see three people surrounding her, each one keeping her levitated off the ground, with the use of both magic and their hands. Marlene McKinnon was holding her shoulders, sending down worried glances to Artemis's face. And Regulus Black was supporting her torso, his strong hands pressed against her spine. Abel Grisham was using magic to keep her legs from dragging on the floor, but his direction was often poorly aimed.
There was someone at the end of the corridor. Artemis frowned; it wasn't the straight-backed silhouette of McGonagall. It was someone younger and male.
Artemis's mouth dried. Her heart stopped. Her lungs released the small puff of oxygen that she had been holding.
Henry Grisham was walking towards them, a cruel glint in his beautiful, dead eyes. A smirk was etched onto his handsome, sadistic face.
It was impossible. Artemis knew that. Henry had graduated years ago. But there he was, walking towards them with a purposeful stride.
"What have you got there?" Henry asked, his mouth widening into a shark grin.
Artemis couldn't breathe; her lungs were folding in on themselves.
"She fainted," Marlene explained, but her voice was murky and far away, as if she were speaking from underwater. "We were bringing her to Madam Pomfrey's. She won't wake up."
Henry locked his eyes on Artemis's body, looking wherever he liked. She tried to pull herself away from the three students holding her up, but their grips were like iron. They were holding her down, making it impossible for her to escape.
