But It's Better If You Do ((Katya))

[Tristan MacCay]

“Now, watch this, ready?” Tristan pressed the rewind button on his video camera to the specific part he was telling his followers to watch. A smirk made its way onto his face as he pressed play and the video clip rolled. Everyone around him burst out laughing, some clapping him on the back with praise at this accomplishment. A girl crying in the mud. Tristan’s blue eyes watched the screen as the girl sat up and looked at her hand. He wanted to know her story, wanted to find out why she had been out in the rain. He wouldn’t ever admit it, though. “Well, that’s all for today, mates. You can put in requests by means of Theodore here,” Tristan slapped the young second year over the head gently, “and he’ll pass them along to me. Have a lovely rest of your day, gents.” He closed the screen to his video camera and slipped it into his book bag before slinging it over his shoulder and getting away from the group of five to six boys in his year and younger who had been hanging around him. Every time he ended up meeting with that bunch he felt like he had just gotten dipped into a bathtub full of something filthy. Tristan shuddered as he brushed himself off, freeing himself of whatever it was that made him feel filthy. Tristan wouldn’t consider himself an outcast, especially because he was far from it. In fact, he was rather social, but he didn’t have anyone he would consider a close friend. He didn’t really think he wanted someone as a close friend, and if he ever chose to allow one of the dunces in the Slytherin house to be a close friend it would most definitely not be one of those blockheads over there. Tristan was better than all of them put together, and they should be thankful he was even letting them see his video footage.

Oh, well. Tristan wasn’t going to let those morons ruin a perfectly good filming day. He should be off doing his assignments that the professors felt necessary to pack on, but he didn’t feel like it. What Tristan didn’t feel like doing, Tristan didn’t do. Besides, there were a few professors that Tristan could manipulate into letting him turn the assignment in late, and the ones who weren’t easily manipulated had students in the class that were… and he’d just find one of them to do his homework for him. Professors seemed to think it was necessary to pack on the extra homework assignments around the time of O.W.L.s and honestly? Tristan couldn’t care less about how important the bloody O.W.L.s were to his future. He already knew what he was going to do, and like everyone knew… what Tristan wanted, Tristan got. Except one thing. No, don’t bloody think about that right now you moron, focus on your next target. Tristan shoved the thought from his mind as he stopped walking and stood in the center of the courtyard, his blue eyes scanning over the students who were laughing and chatting away as if it were nothing. As if the world was at their disposal. It was sickening for Tristan to have to watch them mill about at their own leisurely pace, but there wasn’t much he could do about that and he accepted it. The one thing Tristan did not have control over (painfully aware to him) was how the world was going to the dogs. The whole wizarding world, blood issues aside, was going downhill because no one was willing to open their eyes and deal with the problems that were inevitably arising. Tristan didn’t like to make himself out to be a completely compassionate or caring person; hell, Tristan didn’t like to give anyone reason to believe he was anything but manipulative and arrogant, but he would rather not have the world blown up while he was in it; thanks.

There. His next target. She was sitting on the bench, reading a book with her head propped up on her book bag which was in turn propped up by the arm rest of the bench. She had long brown hair and she was eating an apple as her eyes darted over the book. Tristan shifted his book bag to his right shoulder and pulled out his camera again before making his way over to the girl. She couldn’t have been more than 13 years old, but she seemed to hold an aura of someone so much older. As he approached her, Tristan felt that thoughtfulness leave him and be replaced with his usual arrogant air. “Lovely afternoon, don’t you think?” he asked in greeting, a smirk on his face as he stood in front of the bench with his hand on his camera, ready to start filming. “I have a proposition for you, one I’m certain you won’t be able to refuse.” Tristan gave her his most charming smile as he waited for a reply.

[Katya Love S5]

“Have your days gotten any better, Katya?”

“When did I tell you my name?” She hadn’t even thought of an answer to his question before the realization that he had called her by her name had struck her funny. Katya tucked her hair behind her ear as she sent a weary look his way, “Yeah, they’ve been… better. I’ve got to… go do that… thing.” She grabbed her things and bolted from the student lounge, hugging her books close to her chest as she hurried down the corridor. Maybe she was over reacting, maybe she was just being paranoid. Perhaps she had mentioned her name, and she hadn’t realized it. Maybe she was just making excuses for a guy that was really starting to creep her out. Katya chewed on her lower lip as she pushed past some of the people coming from their outside classes. It was a nice day, but inside Katya felt dark and rainy. She wasn’t quite sure, but she thought it might have to deal with the fact exams were coming soon and she hadn’t really been studying. Katya lost herself when it came to end of the year exams, even though she aced them every year. She had convinced herself that the reason for her acing them was because she studied so hard, but maybe that wasn’t the real reason. Perhaps she was… in fact, just naturally good at her classes. Well, whatever the reason, she wasn’t going to not study. Even if she convinced herself that learning and retaining information was her God given talent. Studying was something that Katya wouldn’t ever give up.

The feeling in the pit of her stomach, the one that told her this guy was bad news, never left; but she mistook it as being hungry and headed into the Great Hall to grab something to eat. She picked up an apple from the Slytherin table, and then turned on her heel to leave the Great Hall once more. It was far too nice a day to eat inside. She tucked her hair behind her ear again as she crossed the corridor to the courtyard and slipped through the door as a group of friends walked in laughing about something. She rolled her eyes, and exited the doom and gloom castle out into the sunshine. This was more like it. She could sit and read a book while eating her apple, and maybe this feeling of despair would wash away from her stomach. Things had been going well, really well, with her new outlook on life… but there were still things that Katya was uneasy about. She sighed as she plopped onto a bench and shifted her book bag so it was leaning against the arm rest that would have otherwise been too comfortable to lean her head on. She slid onto the bench and rested her head on her book bag before clutching the apple with her teeth and pulling out her poetry book from the bag she was using as a pillow. Taking the apple from her mouth and crunching down into it, she opened the book to one of the poems she had read often enough and began to read it again.

It had been only ten minutes and Katya was thoroughly enjoying her apple and her poetry and the sun on her as she read when a shadow fell across her and someone spoke. Katya kept her eyes on her book, hoping that if she didn’t look up he would go away. She also hoped he wasn’t the he she had just fled from. Finally, after a moment, she looked up from her book to see a boy who looked to be a couple of years older than her, standing over her with a video camera in his hand. With a raise of her eyebrow, she rested her book on her knee; “Does that work with most girls? ‘I have a proposition for you, one that I’m certain you won’t be able to refuse’?” Katya shook her head before finishing off her apple and dropping it in the trash bin behind her head, “You know, I was starting to think that guys were become so much more original with their pick up lines.” She smirked and picked up her book again, “Congratulations! You’ve proven me wrong.” With that, she looked back at the words in her poetry book again and stopped talking.

[Tristan MacCay]

Her. It was her. The girl with the story from his video tape. Tristan felt a lump form in his throat as she quickly shot him down with a smirk and then returned to her book. Being Tristan, though, he quickly forced the lump away and returned her smirk with a deceitful smile before opening the camera screen and pressing record. “I wasn’t using a pick up line, they aren’t my style. Besides, whatever gave you the idea that guys could ever be original? We’ve got one blasted thing circling our heads, and that’s it.” The girl looked at him with a raised eyebrow, but Tristan merely smirked and shook his own head. “Power. Guys like power. Even the ones with fluff for brains in Hufflepuff. Some of us just like the power more than others and we’ll do anything to achieve it.” Tristan shrugged as if this fact was a widely known fact, and it should be considering how important it was to Tristan’s life, but whatever. There were a lot of things that should be widely known and they weren’t and that just aggravated Tristan. He did his best to get everyone to know certain things. Certain things like how great he is, how important he is to the Slytherin house, those sorts of things. Tristan looked at the screen of his camera which was still recording the girl, and then a thought occurred to him. “You’re a Slyth aren’t you?” The idea that he had taped and made fun of a girl who was in Slytherin made him feel rather sick. Tristan was an arrogant jerk, true, but he was loyal to his house and housemates. There was no reason ever given to record a fellow Slyth and make fun of them. Not even those the others considered blood traitors. If this girl wasn’t a Slytherin, that was fine with him – it just meant that she was either a Gryffindor with her hot headed replies or a Ravenclaw who had grown a spine and decided to stick up for herself.

He had seen her around before, in the common room; so he was fairly certain she was a Slytherin. With that thought, Tristan stopped recording and took out the tape that held her on it. He looked at it a moment, wondering whether or not it was worth it. A whole days work could just go down the drain because of this one girl. But that was how Tristan was. Quickly, before he could even think about changing his mind, Tristan offered the tape to her. “It has you on it, and I mean not from just now. I saw you the night of the big storm, lying in the mud, and I video taped it. It was worth a good laugh, but I’ve promised to never tape Slyths. We have to stick together, against all of those who hate us.” Tristan looked at the tape again before throwing it to the ground and taking out his wand. He pointed the ten inch cocobolo wand at the tape and muttered, “Caeruleus Tintinnabulum Flammo.” Blue flames licked from his wand toward the tape and the tape instantly turned a black puddle of goo. Then with a look at the girl and another flick of his wand, “Scourgify.” The goo disappeared, taking all traces of the girl’s nap in the mud with it. Though he couldn’t take back showing the blockheads back there the tape, he could prevent anyone else from seeing it and that was his intention. Tristan had his priorities, and his videos were at the top of the list. Yes, he took great joy in filming stupid things for his followers to laugh at, but he had his own collection. A collection of pain and anger that seemed to appear in everybody except him. He didn’t let anyone see that collection and he didn’t destroy any of the tapes if they contained Slytherins on them, precisely because the best pain and anger flourished from Slyths. Tristan looked at where the tape had been and then looked up at the girl again, knowing that he had done the right thing.

Tristan crossed his arms over his chest, his palm sized camera still clutched in his right hand, as he stared down at the girl. “Now, about that proposition,” granted she had completely destroyed his earlier one with being a Slytherin, but there was plenty he could use her for. The world was at his disposal, and with how clever Tristan was he was certain he could find something for this girl to do, “if I can guess your favourite poet,” he nodded to her book that she was so immersed in (having owned a copy of the book himself), “you’ll move your legs and let me sit beside you without any thing as close to a grumble and you’ll hear me out.” Tristan smiled manipulatively and waited for her response.

[Katya Love S5]

Katya had begun to read again, “Remorse is memory awake, her companies astir,-…” He was talking again. She looked up from her book when he said that guys only had one thing going through their heads. Her eyebrow rose as she began to think of what it was that guys had their mind on all the time. He seemed to catch her thinking, because he gave her a smirk and told her it was power. Katya rolled her eyes and returned to her poem, “Remorse is memory awake, her companies astir,-…” Blast it! He was talking, again. He sure did like the sound of his own voice. Katya let out an annoyed sigh and turned to look at him with an agitated look in her eyes. He was asking her if she was a Slytherin. Well, obviously. She had seen him around before, followed by a pack of hideous hyenas, videotaping Hufflepuffs or Ravenclaws for a good laugh at them later. It had disgusted her, but because he had never approached her she hadn’t done or said anything about it. “Yes, I’m a Slytherin.” Her reply was quick, to the point, and held no room for discussion. She sent him a glare before turning to her book again. “Remorse is memory awake, her compa-!” Oh, for goodness sake! Katya looked up at the boy again, her annoyance slowly turning to anger. This was why she had liked being an outcast, no one came up to her and pushed her buttons. Wait. What did he just say? Katya’s eyes grew wide at the tape in his hands. He had recorded her when she… how had… oh, Merlin. She stared at the tape, but before she could demand for him to give it to her, he threw it on the ground and melted it with his wand. Then he used scourgify to get rid of the puddle that had been a solid tape only seconds before.

She stared at the ground a moment before looking up to meet the boy’s gaze. He then returned to talking about the proposition he had mentioned earlier. With a weary look, Katya closed her book with her thumb marking her place and tilted her head; ready to listen. When he had made his proposition, Katya shook her head. “No good,” she told him simply, “I’ve seen you around with this exact book. You’d know it’s full of Emily Dickinson poems. Why don’t you try and guess my favourite poem instead?” Katya was smarter than that, to let him fool her into thinking he hadn’t picked up the book full of Emily Dickinson’s poetry. She had seen him around before, carrying the book with his other books or whatnot. When you were an outcast, you picked up on quite a bit of things about other people who you might have socialized with if you weren’t so alone. Katya sat up from the bench and looked over at the boy expectantly. Emily Dickinson had written hundreds of poems and it was a shot in the dark the boy would have to make. The only person who knew what her favourite poem was herself and Conan, and Conan had only found out because she recited it when she had found him by the lake. Katya wondered how he was doing, but she didn’t let her mind wander too far away from the conversation she was having. Even though she would have liked nothing more. “Look, I don’t want to waste my time with this… so either just tell me what you want or… just… go away.” She had shifted her legs so she was facing the boy instead of turning to the left to look at him, but her eyes were tired and annoyed at the same time. All she wanted to do was read her book and forget about certain things.

[Tristan MacCay]

She had agreed on being a Slytherin, and that caused Tristan to put his camera in his bag again. He didn’t want any trouble with this girl, even if he knew he would be better at magic or whatnot. Fighting with anyone, much less a girl, was simply out of the question and very much below Tristan and what high standards he held himself up to. Regardless, that didn’t mean he couldn’t annoy her, which was what he appeared to be doing quite well at the moment. She’d roll her eyes, give a huge sigh, and look at him as if took a great effort and when she replied to his question about her being in Slytherin, she had spoken so quickly and curtly that Tristan was sure it was supposed to be a way to end the discussion. It wasn’t, though. Tristan was never one to give in on a discussion, especially if it meant annoying the other person. “What year? Obviously not fifth, because I pride myself on knowing all the girls in my year. You’re definitely not a first year, and you are most unlikely a sixth or seventh year. So that leaves you, really, at a third or fourth year. Which is it, then?” Tristan had to control the smirk from rising onto his face again. He could tell he was getting under this girl’s skin, and that was alright with him. Actually, Tristan found himself enjoying it immensely. There was nothing he liked more than making girls angry or annoyed with him so he can later pull out the charming act and get them to forget he had ever pushed their buttons. Besides, no guy wanted to be known as someone who pushed the wrong buttons. It just so happened that Tristan knew how to push all of the buttons. Tristan was good at using girls to his advantage; may it be for class work or homework, sometimes even just gifts. Yes, Tristan did like gifts, and if he played the right cards and pushed the right buttons; he often received them.

After Tristan had destroyed the tape and the girl had responded to his proposition within a proposition, Tristan arched an eyebrow. “How would you know that? No one knows I read poetry, not even the closest of my followers. You aren’t stalking me or something, are you? Because there would go another proposition destroyed by you.” He was teasing, but he held a smirk on his face as he took a seat beside her on the bench whether she wanted him to or not. Well, she had called his bluff and there was only one thing to do now. He was about to open his mouth and rattle off his favourite poem, when she cut him off. “Feisty, are we?” Tristan smirked again and leaned back into the bench, folding his hands together and putting him behind his neck to support his head as he looked over at the girl, “I felt a funeral in my brain, and mourners, to and fro; kept treading, treading till it seemed, that sense was breaking through.” Tristan hadn’t even bothered to go into his proposition. He shut his eyes and recited the poem from memory; “And when they all were seated, a service like a drum; kept beating, beating till I thought, my mind was going numb.” He felt her squirm slightly in her seat as he paused before continuing onto the next stanza. “And then I heard them lift a box, and creak across my soul; with those same boots of lead, again, then space began to toll.” Tristan opened his blue eyes and looked over at her again, his smirk widening into that manipulative smile. “As all the heavens were a bell, and Being but an ear; and I and silence some strange race, wrecked, solitary, here.”

Tristan waited a moment before leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. He looked down at the ground, before continuing; “Alright, so, this proposition requires something from you, but nothing from me. I don’t expect you to be willing to accept it, nor do I expect you to fully decline it.” He let out a small sigh as he looked over at her, wondering why he was even thinking of asking this girl for help. “I need help with a video project. Not some of that bollocks you’ve seen me showing my followers, a real project. Something personal.” Tristan stressed the word “personal” because it was one he hardly used. He wanted the girl to know how important it was to him that he get help with this video. Before he could let too much human show through him, Tristan smirked; “Don’t worry, you won’t be nude or anything, if that’s what you’re thinking.”