CHAPTER TWENTY
SLUGHORNS PARTY
AUGUST INSPECTED HIMSELF IN THE MIRROR. His dark hair curled loosely as he looked upwards, jutting out his sharp chin, it curls around his temples and down his neck, he needed it cut, he thought annoyed with a frown.
The last time he had his hair cut was by his mother, though. August hated people touching his hair, the prodding and the pulling, the feeling of others on him, he had sobbed from how much he detested it, yes, it might be childish to cry, but he hated it that much. His mother had punished him severely for it.
Don't be pathetic, she'd mutter, yanking his hair even more as he laid on the ground, a belt in her hand.
He blinked away the memory. He looked quite handsome in his suit. In the way most boys look handsome. For once in his life, he's not totally ashamed of how he looked. Once, before all this, there was a time when August hated the boy who stood in the mirror. He hated how he looked, dead eyed, scruffy hair. A nervous blinking whenever someone would yell. The flinching. He'd hated it.
Now he stood. Proud.
Turning away from the mirror, he scraped his hair back away from his face. It had always annoyed him.
Thankfully, after a day in bed, the Love Potion had gone out of his system before he even needed the Antidote, meaning that he could now go to Slughorn's party, which was why he was wearing his finest suit.
Bunny had been slightly mad after finding out August had been given a love potion, "why didn't I get love potioned?" He asked crossly after August had made his full recovery.
"Wait, why are you mad that you didn't get love potioned?"
"Because!" He said loudly in their dormitory, throwing his hands up in the air, "I thought I was hot enough to be given one, but apparently not! Not even Sarah and her chocolates? Come on!" He exclaimed and Reinhardt had laughed at him.
"Guess August is just hot enough to get love potioned, better luck next time I guess," Reinhardt shrugged and ducked, just in time for Bunny to fling his pillow at him.
"Bastard," Bunny mumbled, but smiled, it hadn't affected him too much thankfully, nothing really lasted long for Bunny to be mad about, it would be fleeting.
Now, Bunny was pacing the room with a determined look on his face, causing his face to scowl, "so what're gonna do about the Olive situation?" He asked as August fumbled with his tie, he had never learned how to tie a tie unfortunately.
Bunny, having seen he was struggling, stumbled over worksheets and sweet wrappers and swatted his hands away from the mess that is his tie, his hands stinging from his hits.
August stayed deadly still, Bunny thumbed his tie a little, his breath hot against August, he didn't mind the closeness that came with being friends with Bunny anymore.
Maybe Bunny could cut his hair, at least then, he wouldn't get hit if he cried, nor would he be mad at his hands in his hair. He remembered once when Bunny had ruffled his hair, he didn't mind his hands. They were rough, yes, but also careful at the same time. He never would understand how.
"don't know, I could hurt her, get the message across that way." He mused, thinking of ways he could do that, of which these included:
A. Drown her in the black lake
B. Give her food poisoning.
Or C. Slit her chest open
He was leaning more towards C, it was fun, a bit messy, but still the most fun. He could already feel the welcoming silver of a scalpel in his hands, the coldness being coating by her warm blood, clutching at herself desperately to stop herself from spilling over like a too full cookie jar.
"Yes, but you can't kill her," Bunny reminded him thoughtfully finally tying his tie and pulling August out of his almost-murder fuelled daze. He moved away and August inched closer instinctively, desperate for his warmth.
"No, no you can't." Another voice cut in from behind them, August stepped away from Bunny quickly to see Tom. he felt guilty for something so measly, he needed to stop this impulsiveness that came with Bunny.
Tom was dressed well, a suit and his own tie tied right. His lightly curled hair straightened with large amounts of gel, like it had been for their school pictures. He looked handsome as ever, August felt the warmth he had felt as he laid in his bed the other day, when he smiled down at him, the way it bubbled up and made it hard for him to breathe.
"Why not?" He instead asked willing him to challenge him, he needed it.
His eye's flitted up and down his lean frame, taking in his outfit, his hands cupped across him.
"Because," he just said and he looked at him coldly, dead in the eyes, "I'll handle her myself."
August nodded sadly, so no C. then for him. Disappointment flooded him, he wished he could gut her, maybe lightly maim her at least.
"Come on, we'll be late," Tom instructed motioning for the door, August nodded and follows.
"Have fun!" Bunny called before flinging himself onto his bed, rummaging for something, most likely looking sweets from Abraxas to steal, no doubt.
....
"Oh wow! You both look so handsome!" Flicks voice called in a trill, clapping her hands together in awe.
August smiled at her as they meet Theo and Flick just outside Slughorn's office.
Flick was wearing a silk dress, apparently an heir loom from her grandmother, a mix of pink and grey, which made her blue eyes stand out against her pale skin and dress. It would've flushed anyone else out, but not Flick.
Theo had his arm wrapped around her protectively causing August to feel a pang in his stomach of what Tom had told him, it strengthened the anger towards Jasper Harkness when Flick smiled so sweetly at them.
How dare someone hurt someone so pure as Flick —well, as pure as you can get when you're related to Abraxas.
"Thanks," Tom greeted as they approach the pair, "you look nice," he complimented before craning his neck in the other direction, and August's heart dropped into his stomach, realising that they both have dates, and that Tom, was looking for his. He'd almost forgotten the dates, a disappointing and slightly embarrassing thought had risen in his mind, that they were going together.
It was a stupid thought, they did indeed have dates.
August with his love potion spiking hufflepuff date, and Tom with Juliet Paterson.
It was going to be exciting to say the least.
So, standing, waiting in the darkness of the Dungeons, he fiddled with his tie, pulling it, as if trying to strangle himself before he saw Olive, because maybe if he died he could get out of this embarrassing mess.
Tom perked up at the sounds of clicking heels and spins, August did the same out of sheer curiosity to see which of their dates arrived first.
Luckily for August, he would say it was lucky in the way that Olive hadn't arrived; not in the same luckiness that he would now have to watch Tom and Juliet talk, Tom with his overbearing sweetness only reserved for girls that made August green with envy.
In moments like these, Tom walking up to Juliet, smiling that smile of his, engulfing her into a hug, he wished that he was her.
It was an odd concept.
The way she kissed his cheek, them being so close together without anyone saying a thing, if it were to happen with August, people would scowl, they would talk, they would hate him for who he was.
He wiped the thought away as Juliet approached the three of them, Tom's hand clasped tightly in hers.
"Hello! Excited for the dinner?" She asked lightly, a smile rips across her face, it's almost blinding and August had to force a smile to rid the jealousy creeping in.
"Very," he replied simply giving her a nod of his head, the act of trying to rid the jealousy that rises up his throat was no use. He was sick with it.
Tom just smiled at the scene, loving every minute of Augusts facade, though August couldn't help with a giddy sort of feeling, but wonder if Tom was waiting, waiting for the moment August snaps and kills her.
He knew Tom was keeping up a facade just like August tonight, but the only difference was that Tom had been this way for only a few years probably.
He knew this from only moments. Split seconds gone is a flash. But August is quick to see them. The subtle way his brow furrowed when Bunny doesn't fall in line to the way he smiles lightly when they speak of violence. He knew he was similar to him after that. Though Tom would never admit it. Not just yet.
They both had a vile thing forming at the pits of their stomachs, aching for its desperate relief. It's just that August will let it consume and devour him now.
Late at night, this night to be precise. He will wonder the halls until he reaches the infirmary and take his old weapon. A scalpel. Then he will plunge it deep within Jasper Harkness chest.
He will watch him writhe, watch him choke on his own blood, watch the way his eyes plead for help. And he will stand above him. Watching his creation.
But he will have to wait. He will have to restrain himself for a couple of hours. Sitting in Slughorn's office, chatting about who knows what. All whilst thinking of the cold blade between his fingers.
"Ah, Olive! Didn't think you'd show!" Flick called jokingly with a smile to the brunette that entered the Dungeon.
Olive approached them, a red dress hugging her, brunette hair curled and her lips forming a red pout. August would've thought she looked quite pretty if the overwhelming feel of rage didn't encompass him.
"Sorry, couldn't find my heels." She said with a shrug and a light polite laugh before she neared August.
He kissed her cheek softly, "you look lovely," he murmured. His hand going to her back as he wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close.
That's the thing with August. He knew how to act the part of a doting boyfriend best.
"Thank you, you look very handsome," she replied giving him a once over before leaning close to him.
August caught Toms glance, so he kissed her cheek. His eyes still trained on Tom.
Tom's head turned away immediately, eyes trained back to his date and August felt it rising. Victory.
....
Slughorn let them inside at seven.
They all sit, and start to talk. Waiting for the last three members to arrive — Fleamont Potter and his date, Henrietta Dubois, as well as the vampire Sanguini, whom Bunby had been desperate to meet, for a couple of reasons.
1. He wanted to see if Sanguini would turn him into a vampire
2. He wanted to ask him out on date, though August had laughed at him saying he probably doesn't date school kids, seeing as he was slightly too young for him.
The last pair came in a few minutes later, Henrietta with a plum coloured dress, her dark frizzy hair pulled back into a ponytail. bronze skin standing out proud besides Fleamonts pasty skin.
She surveyed them, Henrietta always felt slightly judgy whenever August saw her, like she was sizing up a fake competition all made up in her head.
When she deemed them worthy of her competition, she let Fleamont sit her down, opposite August and Olive.
Sanguini walked in slowly, as if he were floating. His long dark hair slicked back, showing his high cheekbones and elegant features. The girls all giggle when he spoke, it's an odd thing to see.
Slughorn sat at the end of the rectangular table whilst the rest would fill out the gaps.
Tom had seated himself closest to Slughorn, of course he would, he was his favourite student. August had seated himself and Olive furthest away, a desperate attempt at having a normal conversation rather one which would include school work.
Theo and Flick sat opposite Tom and Juliet, Flick sitting besides August, thankfully, he needed someone he didn't entirely hate to sit besides him. He could get through the night speaking to her.
And Sanguini had made himself comfortable near the fireplace, ditching the seating arrangement to make himself stand out. A narcissist. Perfect for Bunny, he thought sourly.
....
"Oh it was brilliant!" Fleamont's smug tone rang out as August spooned his soup bored.
They were on the topic of Fleamont's family, talking about his annual hunting trip. Sanguini had vanished into the night when the conversation had pulled off him and his vast life experiences.
August wanted nothing more than to sink into the floor, he wanted to disappear like Sanguini had. The whole thing bored him terribly, he could see why Bunny would never go; Bunny would of stabbed someone by now, just for a laugh.
"August dear, are you alright?" Olive whispered kindly, still under the impression the boy was madly in love with her.
"Yes of course, I'm so happy you said yes to this," he admitted motioning around them, "it's made it so much more fun,"
She placed a hand on top of his, he almost flinched away, almost.
He clasped it tightly and they stare at each other, August tried his very best to look in love, it made him sick. He didn't know how people could do it.
"So Augustine," Fleamont turned his head to August and he stared a little confused.
"What?" He asked, trying to keep his voice even, it was hard seeing the malicious way Fleamont smiled at him, like a knife, cutting deep into him.
"What was Beauxbatons like?" He replied titling his head in mock innocence, he knew where this was going. The incident would soon make its way into the conversation, with Slughorn listening on intently.
"It was alright I guess, a bit boring, no one seemed to like me much," August admitted truthfully, no one really liked August. The boys all found him odd, the girls tried their best with him, flirting and fluttering their eyes, but Marina had taken him away from them. Selfishly.
"Not even your girlfriend?"
Slughorn made a strangled noise as he sipped his drink, "maybe don't ask him about that Monty, he's still healing." He said in the same horrible pitying way the other teachers had spoken to him once they found out.
August just waved a hand dismissively, "no, I don't mind. Of course she liked me, we were dating for a little over a year before . ." He trailed off, pretending to be distraught over the memory.
Fleamont didn't buy it. Annoyingly. Guess August wasn't going to win a muggle acting award anytime soon.
"Did you have fun killing her?"
Slughorn coughed again, "don't say things like that Fleamont, you know it was an accident."
But August just looked at him, his face hiding the burning feeling inside of him, ready to jump across the table and plunge his spoon into the boys eye.
He could already hear the screaming.
"It was an accident," his trained words don't fail him as they tumbled out, "a terrible accident."
"But you still do necromancy, don't you? Why still do it if it took away your girlfriend?" He prodded, leaning in.
August gripped his spoon, "so I would never hurt anyone again, if I practiced and got good, then it would never happen again, would it?" He explained with a small shrug, a smile is begging to cut across his face, but he knew if he lets it, it would ruin his lies for good.
Slughorn cleared his throat, "why don't we talk about something else? Augustine, what do your parents do?"
"My father works in the ministry, dark artefacts, my mother was a singer, but she stopped when she had me." He regained himself, keeping the rage intact.
he couldn't blame his mother for her vile temper, he knew he had taken what she loved away; a life time of fame and fortune, stripped away when she had August.
"Oh how exciting, what do you think you'll go into after Hogwarts? Potions I presume, seeing how good you are," he pressed with eager eyes, another prodigy under his belt.
"Probably, but necromancy is always something that I could see myself doing full time, maybe for the ministry? They use necromancers for talking to victims, that's what Master Toussaint tells me." He said remembering his necromancy teacher telling him of his career paths.
Slughorn nodded approvingly, "maybe I can put in a word for you for when the next necromancer dies."
"That would be great," August said, and he meant it.
The end of the party came quick, and August was ready for his next task; kill Jasper Harkness.
The boy who he had been dreaming about, after Tom had told him of his misdeeds, August couldn't stop dreaming about him. Though the type had changed drastically, the first few dreams had been him, hovering above him, a knife clasped in his hands.
The next ones had been different. He had pushed Jasper over the tallest hill they had, and watched him fall to his death. It was quite a sight. The body bloodied beyond repair.
The feeling of these dreams rose up him each night he slept; a certain hunger. It fuelled him whilst he slept, just like it did now.