Tortured ||Damien||

[Stephen Donahue S7]

“Drag them down boys! Destroy them!” a low voice shouted through the Common Room. The fire was hardly a lit anymore as the shadows slowly stretched toward the fading light. The sound of gunfire was audible, as were the screams of hundreds of souls. “Right there, seven o’clock! Bomber! Take him out!” Gunfire blasted away, but it was too late as a responding explosion echoed through the room. Screams pitched into a high octave before fading almost as quickly as they had come. “Jefferson! Jefferson get up! We have to get out of here before the building collapses! Jefferson…Don’t leave me man…I…I’ll get my wand. You’ll be alright.”

Stephen Donahue sat motionless staring into the dying fire. His form was rigid, tense. He hadn’t moved since the beginning of the hallucination began and he wasn’t moving now. The sounds echoed around him, causing a nice sheen of sweat across his body, glittering in the licking firelight. Hazel orbs were blazing with the reflection of the fire as the sounds crescendo. The flashing light from gunfire flicker across his eyes as his father’s figure moves through the shadows. “Muggles will do that to you someday Stephen. They’ll destroy your friends, your family…until only you are left and then they’ll torture you. There won’t be anything left of you…nothing, but the outer layer of flesh. You won’t even look like you anymore. Are you going to let them do that to you? Just like you did that Pureblooded witch? You deserve to be tortured for that…destroyed. You let her curse you, let her have control over you, and now she has leverage over you. You need to kill her while you can.”

The fire flared bight for a moment as if a bomb had exploded before dying completely, leaving only the soft embers. Lids closed briefly, the first blink in what seemed to be hours. Limbs slowly relaxed, the sounds that had been filling his ears for the last hour were gone, the shadows were still, and his eyes flickered around the room once…twice before he pulled up from the couch. His body ached from sitting so still for the last hour. Trying to move was awkward at first, but he succeeded as he moved to the fireplace, crouching down in front of the fire he pulled out the poker jabbing at the embers. It flared a little before dying back down again. Stephen picked up a log and dropped it on the embers, watching the smoke roll out as he poked at the embers trying to get the log to catch fire. The crackling sounds filled the air as a low rumbling began.

Stephen pulled up slowly placing the poker back in its metal stand as he stared down watching the log slowly catch fire. His form casting a silent silhouette across the wall as the soft sounds of footsteps began to echo around him. Digits carefully wrapped around his wand, not sure who the intruder was into his revelry, but wasn’t going to take any chances. Not bothering to turn he simply kept his focus on the fire and the shadows it cast around the large stone room, waiting for them to make the first move.

[Damien Lennox S7]

Damien leant back, lacing his fingers together behind his head, blank blue eyes staring at the patterns on the ceiling above him. This was his routine for every night, with the curtains securely drawn around his four-poster bed to shield his body from prying eyes. It was one of the few opportunities to just be himself that Damien ever received. He could lie to himself all he wanted (and he did, though he so rarely admitted it to himself) but there was always another part to play because there was always another person to reel in with a charming flash of white teeth in a wolfish grin or fingertips dancing with daring softness over bare skin. He couldn’t be himself when there were so many reasons for him to twist and morph himself into a cruelly lustful mockery of whomever his conquests really wanted to be gazing at. Maybe he did make them want him for who they thought he was after a while. Damien was never quite sure. He didn’t really think that he deserved that reassurance. What he and Carlin did to some of the people they saw everyday was deliberate cruelty for their own amusement. He even enjoyed it. Damien was too arrogant, too full of the need to be recognised and loved by other people to not take pleasure in the success that he had in making people love him, or lust after him if Damien was in the mood to view his conquests cynically. Carnal pleasures ruled them all; some people just hadn’t realised it yet. So maybe those who refused to acknowledge that truth did, on some level, deserve the heartache and pain that came from believing that either Damien or Carlin were capable of loving them? That was a reasonably gratifying thought. Idiots deserved every bit of pain and suffering that life dealt to them simply because they didn’t have the common sense to evade trouble and disaster.

He wasn’t going to be sleeping for many hours to come now if he even slept at all, Damien acknowledged wryly. His mind had hit that thoroughly irritating level of awareness where even silence seemed magnified, every thought suddenly worthy of in-depth analysis. Carlin called it his maudlin state. Cyn, in all of her childish innocence, had named it his adult thinking time. Damien couldn’t care less what people, regardless of whether they were his cousins or his conquests or strangers, wanted to call it. It was just a period of self-inflicted agony that Damien despised with every shred of his mind and heart. Sleeping didn’t come easily to him; it never had. He needed to wear himself out, if not his mind then at least his body, until thinking seemed pointless in the face of approaching slumber. Part of the problem was that he hadn’t been able to bask in the glow of an easily victorious conquest in days. How was he meant to sleep without knowing that he deserved it? He wasn’t a little child anymore to be soothed by quietly spoken stories and the feel of a hand running through his hair even if there had been someone willing to indulge him so ludicrously.

Sleep wouldn’t grace him this night. Damien left the bed without any reluctance or hesitation, pulling on a shirt for at least a semblance of modesty. The pyjama pants hanging off his hips and the unbuttoned gaps of the shirt suggested otherwise but the younger students shouldn’t be down in the common room at that time of night anyway. Not worried about being caught out of bed even if he did leave the common room for some reason, Damien padded down the stairs, bare feet cooling rapidly at the touch of the cold floor. “Stephen?” Damien paused for a moment, clearly surprised as his eyes flitted past the other boy before coming to rest on him. He hadn’t checked to see if any of the other sixth year boys were still awake, or even in bed. Sadly, most of Damien’s encounters seemed to occur in the Slytherin common room recently; first Fiona then Dakota and now Stephen. That definitely suggested that needed to stop slacking off in the game. Spotting Stephen’s wand in his hand, Damien rolled his eyes, huffing a deliberately miserable sigh as he took the same seat that he had sat in while talking to Fiona and Dakota. These late night conversations were evidently becoming a tradition so he may as well sit in the place he had become oddly accustomed to. “Put the wand away. I swear I won’t jump you unless you ask me to. I can manage to control myself for a while unless you deliberately tempt me.”

[Stephen Donahue S7]

The rumbling in Stephen’s ears grew louder as he focused his attention on the sound of the feet padding down the corridor. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted Damien Lennox…a boy in his own year…he rolled his eyes at Damien’s comment as he moved to sit. Stephen didn’t feel like talking…of course he never did. All he wanted was to get on with the night…to kill time before the sun rose and classes were to come again. That’s all he cared about…just moving on with his life. There were too many things that had happened in the last year…too many things that made him think…made him feel. Stephen would much rather be completely numb to the world than feeling it’s every emotion and right now…after everything with Dakota over Christmas break he was feeling it all. His world was crumbling around him and it was taking everything in him to keep together. The last thing he wanted was to lose it…especially since losing it would probably end badly, not just for him but whoever happened to be within his reach.

After a few moments of silence Stephen finally turned around, his eyes falling on Damien who seemed at home in one of the chairs. Apparently running into people late at night in the Common Room was a habit of his, which was odd since Stephen was usually up late every night. Though he had now taken to sneaking out at night. There was just something about walking the dungeons at night that kept him bemused. It wasn’t often that he slipped out to walk, but more often than he would like to admit. Then there were those few times that Josephine and him had stayed out later than they should have. It was really a miracle they had never been caught, though with Josephine being a Prefect that sort of worked in their favor. Now that they weren’t together it meant Josephine was basically looking for him every time she was on duty. She wanted to hold something over his head…get a way to her addiction some other way, even though blackmail was illegal even in the wizarding world.

Hands crossed into his arms, as Stephen looked Damien up and down. It wasn’t often he saw Damien actually wide awake at this time of night…not unless he was sneaking back in from some night of bliss. “You’re in bed early tonight Lennox? Couldn’t find a willing partner for the night? Does that mean your cousin has one upped you tonight? Or were you hoping to find a willing partner out here at such a late hour?” Stephen asked, as Damien was a roommate of his it had come to Stephen’s attention that the two cousins tried to beat each other out on conquests. He wasn’t sure who was winning at the time being and wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to know. The two of them were far too strange for him and though he would like his chance with Carlin he had a feeling it wasn’t mutual or a good idea to say the least. Stephen’s reputation preceded him and it was quite clear that Stephen had his fair share of conquests…most of them used and abused in the worst ways possible by him. He didn’t care of course, but it was definitely another reason why most people avoided him if they could. “I think I know a girl or two that would be willing to spend the night with you as long as you don’t plan on being gentle.” A cold smirk pulled at his lips as he leaned his back against the wall next to the fireplace, his eyes never leaving Damien.

[Damien Lennox S7]

Damien didn’t make promises if he thought that he couldn’t keep them. Ever. About anything. He never offered more than sex to anyone, and it wasn’t his fault if they thought he wanted them for longer than a few hours. Some people needed to ask before making assumptions. He wasn’t as predictable as he was thought to be. He had never even told Cyn that he would always be there for her when she padded into his room with the hope of a brotherly knight-like figure, hugging a bear so tightly he wondered how it didn’t crumble into dust and shivering with a mixture of the chilly air and fright from the monsters under her bed. The little girl could have begged and he wouldn’t have made any such assurances. Not when he couldn’t guarantee it. It wasn’t fair. Not in the way that life wasn’t fair – the kid would learn that soon enough, and good luck to her when she did – but unfair in that he would be making life harder for her because no one could depend fully on anyone else but Cyn hadn’t learnt that yet. Anyway, the point was that Damien didn’t promise what he couldn’t do, which was why he rolled his eyes impatiently at Stephen ignoring him. Deliberate temptation aside, Damien wouldn’t send even so little as a sincere flirtation in the other boy’s direction. For now. He had only said ‘a while’ after all, and it wasn’t fair to deprive himself for too long. Damien didn’t do deprivation; that was for plebeians.

“Bastard,” Damien grumbled, the usually biting insult slipping out from his mouth with an odd lack of malice at Stephen’s suggestion that Damien lacked willing partners. The idea that he had sounded almost, horrifyingly ‘almost’, warmly affectionate struck Damien’s mind but was banished with cold efficiency. Much like deprivation, affection was simply not a part of Damien’s lifestyle in Hogwarts. Attraction and sexuality, yes; he thrived off them shamelessly. He would admit freely that Stephen was attractive. There was nothing wrong with the acknowledgement of physical aesthetics. Neither did Damien find worry in the thought that he was shallow. The concept of ‘affection’, however, was one that could not be permitted simply because that would prove Carlin right. His cousin had always thought that Damien held too much feeling for his conquests and potential conquests, to the extent of loving them a little in Carlin’s opinion. She thought that it would be Damien’s downfall in their game, he knew she did. So she couldn’t be allowed to be right. If she was right then Damien was wrong and the game was lost. If he lost the game then he lost everything that he had achieved over the past few years. That wasn’t an option. A Lennox never lost. That Carlin was a Lennox also never once entered Damien’s mind.

“I can always find willing partners,” Damien continued arrogantly, his quick grin flashing white against the firelight. It wasn’t a lie. There were a finite number of people who wanted to spend the night in his bed, of course, but he always had Theresa. Faithful, loving, teasing Theresa. Not the most beautiful or intelligent of his conquests, not even his favourite of them all, but the one who still loved him, liked him, enough to eagerly accept the rare offer to sleep with him whenever it was extended. She wasn’t a danger to the inevitability of future conquests so Damien kept her around. Carlin had told him to marry her, citing that the two of them could easily produce an heir and then Damien could have his fun outside the marriage bed without the shrill complaints of a wife who would try to keep him faithful to her. It was tempting; the arrangement would make his mostly oblivious aunt and uncle happy, his fully aware parents somewhat proud that he had found a way to give them a grandchild without limiting his happiness and his equal, his scheming cousin satisfied that she had helped him to secure his contentment. Tempting, but not really necessary. His two brothers and sister would provide the heirs for the family; Damien was just the fourth child, the third son. In one of her sadistically truthful moments, Carlin had gifted him with another description for his worth to his parents: expendable. Perhaps so, but he would bet his inheritance that he was the only one of the four to enjoy his life to the fullest.

Was Carlin winning? Damien tilted his head thoughtfully, trying to envision the points in his head before giving up with a shrug. He hadn’t seen the updated version yet; their agreed meeting was in another three days, to count up their conquests and add them to the master list. “Carlin might be winning,” he confessed without worry or alarm. Neither Damien nor his cousin really cared who knew about their game. Besides, he doubted that Stephen would go about warning everyone not to sleep with either Lennox unless they wanted to be pawns in a game between the two of them. It didn’t seem like his style unless he could possibly get something out of it. “I doubt it, but she might be. After all, she’s confined to the male students, the legal ones obviously, whereas I prefer a bit more diversity.” It was a fair game though, fairer than it sounded when Damien’s bisexuality was taken into account. He had to have sex twice for it to count as one conquest. He wasn’t going to win through rigged odds; that wasn’t in his nature. Damien won in his own right, not because of unsporting rules. That was why Carlin’s offer of three for one about Elias had mattered so much. The imagined advantage alone was superior to what anyone else in Hogwarts could offer him. “But if you’re offering yourself as a willing partner, I shan’t refuse. Your bed or mine? Mine had silencing charms around it already, so I’d suggest it simply for practicality if I thought I was right. As it is, I find myself believing that you’re straight. The evidence points that way anyway. Or are you in denial?” Damien carried on conversationally, leaning back to regard Stephen with a steady stare, the hint of a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. He wasn’t wrong. If Stephen had shown even the slightest inclination towards men then Damien would have had him in his bed already. Stephen had been one of Damien’s few infatuations; he still held a faint fondness for the older boy. Something about that which he couldn’t have called to him like a siren.

Ah. Damien sighed patiently. Stephen hadn’t been offering himself up as a partner then. He had always known that, but disappointment was always disappointment regardless of previous knowledge. Shame. Never mind. “That depends on what their definition of gentle is,” Damien purred out smoothly before dropping the act with a short laugh. Sadism and domination wasn’t his thing. “If you know any boys like that though, Carlin might be interested. She likes the struggle of a conquest so I imagine she’d like it in other areas.” Well, to be more truthful, Damien would have said that Carlin enjoyed the power struggle. His cousin always tended to seek out boys whom she knew would just bend to her will with the faintest encouragement from her. She always returned unsatisfied and unhappy after those conquests though. Damien wasn’t entirely sure whether it was to win the game or to see his cousin, his closest friend, happy in a true relationship for once but he wanted to find Carlin someone who would fight back against her instead of just submitting with barely a murmur. After a moment, Damien glanced back at Stephen with a frown. “Don’t tell anyone that we had that part of the conversation, by the way. Carlin would murder me most brutally if she thought that I had been discussing her preferences but she needs all the help that she can get.”

With his usual confident smirk, Damien reclined, hands lacing together behind his neck once more. Blue eyes surveyed the boy sitting with him thoughtfully. Turnabout was fair play after all. Damien had almost answered all of Stephen’s questions, and he had done so with mostly truths. He didn’t really expect the same in return though. Damien wasn’t generally seen as the trustworthy sort unless he was being entrusted with the removal of chastity. “So what are you doing down here so late, Stephen? Got a late night meeting with a pretty girl planned? I’m presuming I don’t need to tell you how to get out of trouble with the prefects.”

[Stephen Donahue S7]

Stephen smirked ruefully as Damien insulted him. Not many could get away with insult, but for some reason Stephen really didn’t mind Damien. He intrigued Stephen in a way, which meant that Stephen would accept more taunting from him before he disliked him. Maybe it was Damien’s lack of trying to hide the truth. He was overly blunt about his “relationships” and wasn’t ashamed of sharing the truth. It was something that Stephen admired, though he would never admit to that. Stephen wasn’t one to tell the truth unless it meant hurting others; it was truly sadistic the way his mind worked which is probably why he found himself in the worst trouble.

Stephen chuckled softly and shook his head. “Denial of several kinds, but not on which gender I prefer, but if ever I find myself confused you’ll be the first to know,” Stephen mused. Normally he would have been offended by the way the conversation had turned, but now he found it amusing. Anything was better than listening to a war rage around him…even Damien’s musing. He shrugged a little mostly for his own benefit as he pushed off from the wall, moving to take a seat near the fire. Damien wasn’t a threat to him, no need to be tense. Taking a seat he leaned forward, not really wanting to relax fully as his elbows rested on his legs and his hands folded together as he stared into the small fire.

A smile turned up Stephen’s lips as he turned his attention to Damien. “I wouldn’t dream of telling her…last thing I need is to get in between a Lennox competition. Though it would be rather amusing. I haven’t gotten into nearly as much trouble as normal, which is rather disappointing,” Stephen said. The truth was that Stephen was in up to his neck. He was in the middle of trying to find his child…for what reason he didn’t even know. Stephen didn’t want to be a father…knew he shouldn’t be one actually, but that didn’t seem to matter to him. All he knew was that he had this sudden desire to see the child he fathered. A child that would never know him and if he did he would hate him, just as much as Stephen had hated his own father, maybe more. So really maybe the only reason he cared to find his child was because he knew that it would disturb Dakota more than anything else. Oh how he longed to torture the girl.

Stephen had lost himself in the fire once again before he heard Damien speak. Questions were now being directed to him and truth was Stephen wasn’t really sure he wanted to answer them. He wasn’t quite sure what all Damien knew about him…he didn’t seem to fear him, which usually meant they didn’t know everything that Stephen was capable of, but at the same time he had found with many students their curiosity won out over their fear. The corner of his lips turned up in a smirk. “I’m good about fading into the shadows when the prefects come along, but no…I don’t have a late night rendezvous with a pretty girl. Just my mind,” Stephen said as he turned his head. Right on time his father appeared at the back of Damien’s chair. His mind was acting up again…at least he had a few moments of peace.

“Don’t you ever get tired of it? Tired of the game?” Stephen had turned his attention back to the fire and he wasn’t quite sure if the question was directed at Damien or his father. “Don’t you ever just want to live the perfect little life without having to worry about a competition between family? Sometimes I wish I could have a normal life again, but I know it won’t happen. I won’t ever see my mother again…nor will I ever get rid of my father. I don’t regret anymore…I don’t feel anything.” Stephen had never once in his life put into words everything that had been going on…he never once admitted it to anyone, not even himself. So sitting there, his eyes blazing from the firelight, he found himself opening up to someone he had hardly ever spoken with. Maybe it was the fact that he had a feeling Damien wouldn’t really judge him, or maybe it was his father’s musing in the background, or the screams from a night of lost innocence sounding in his ears…whatever it was Stephen had finally spoke of just an iota of the darkness that seemed to weigh him down.

[Damien Lennox S7]

“I didn’t expect my night to be spent down here with you whether talking or otherwise,” Damien informed his roommate quietly, the majority of his vibrancy slipping away easily. Stephen wouldn’t appreciate any of it anyway. Much as Damien was attracted to him, he had to be relieved at that realisation. He wasn’t in the mood to flirt and seduce. Not tonight. Not when the thoughts were still fresh and making him doubt everyone and everything, even himself. “We barely talk. I think you’ve said more to me in the last few minutes than you have since we first met. I was beginning to wonder if I had slept with someone you cared about or something, but then I figured that you’d be like most of the other protective ones and just hex or punch me so I knew that couldn’t be it.”

So Stephen was starting to be a bit more at ease with him, Damien guessed as he watched the object of his musings move to sit closer. Perhaps Damien was finally being trusted at his word that he wouldn’t try to jump Stephen when he thought the other boy wasn’t paying attention. As if. Damien sniffed haughtily. He had more finesse than that. Actually, being stunned and dragged into a bedroom had more finesse than that. Someone who had spent more than twelve months honing his skills at flirtation was the one being jumped, not the one doing the jumping, thank you very much. If Stephen had ever been in fear for his questionable virtue then Damien was offended, and slightly amused. “I’m honoured, I’m sure,” Damien stated dryly. “My body is forever at your disposal to ease your confusion, Master Donahue.”

“You’re always welcome in our little game if you wish to participate. We even keep some people for more than a few months if they’re favoured; think you could be lucky enough to be one of them?” Damien teased Stephen light-heartedly, his small smile open and genuine. Carlin wouldn’t turn Stephen away as a conquest, Damien guessed without doubt in his knowledge of his cousin. Carlin loved challenges, just as Damien himself did; the proof of that, if ever it was needed, was clear in their game. Stephen would be a challenge, not one of the boys who gave in so easily that Damien had to wonder why his cousin even bothered. Those boys were a frustration. He didn’t approve in the slightest. “Trouble is something that we excel in causing so maybe you’d fit right in. Carlin is quite well-known, infamous really, for ruining relationships because of who she picks as her conquests; some girls just can’t handle competition.” What remained unsaid, hidden to all but the cousins themselves, was that Damien had softly warned Carlin against choosing some people in particular. He had few enough friends as it was; that was his choice and the way he liked his life, but he didn’t want the few people he liked to hate him because Carlin had tried to involve them in their game. She didn’t always listen but she did stay away from a few of the people he had asked her to, presumably those she had no argument with. It was something, perhaps more than he had expected. Handling Carlin was a tricky business. “I don’t think most people believe that I cause as much trouble as my cousin though,” Damien smirked, shaking his head with mock-sadness. “It hurts to know that some have so little faith in me. Or it would if I cared, and if it didn’t just make it easier for me to pick my conquests.” Even when his reputation preceded him some people just couldn’t help themselves from being curious enough to see if he wanted them. Flattering for the ego, yes, but also a reminder of how mindless some people could be.

Yes, Damien could imagine that clearly. His blue eyes didn’t really need to assess Stephen’s body thoughtfully (but they did, because sometimes Damien just couldn’t keep himself from indulging) to come to the conclusion that the other boy would be good at blending into the background when he wanted to hide. If Stephen’s figure hadn’t highlighted by the firelight when Damien had stepped down the stairs then he wasn’t entirely certain that he would have noticed him standing there. He should probably offer to leave Stephen alone with his thoughts now, Damien contemplated idly, but he had no intention of doing that even if it was the polite thing to do. Thoughts could be cruel companions, especially late at night with no distractions around. That didn’t happen often to Damien – for one thing, he was almost always distracted by one person or another during the night, not to mention that few things haunted him enough to disturb his rest. Stephen, however, was different. He had had a different life, a harder life. Damien wasn’t a fool; he knew how to take advantage of Carlin’s little gossips and spies when it seemed they were actually saying something of interest for once. “That’s almost a shame, I suppose. On one hand, I’m enjoying your company so it’s good to know that you aren’t going to be skipping off for a date. On the other hand, a pretty girl can clear the mind wonderfully, and I do speak as the voice of experience.”

“Tired of the game?” Damien jerked back slightly, eyes wide with shock before a hastily blank expression settled over his features. He couldn’t be tired of his game. Of Carlin’s game. Their game. It was their pastime, their bond, their source of fun and cruelty and mockery. He loved the flirtation, the thrill of the chase, the reward at the end. Yet...he also hated it. Endless lies, whispers of love that he didn’t believe in, unsatisfying kisses because, really, what was a kiss without at least some emotion? It wasn’t the future he had expected when his first girlfriend had broken up with him because he wanted her brother more than her. It was Stephen’s words that forced Damien to speak. He was getting the truth from Stephen, who deserved the same in return. He didn’t move closer though, whether he would have moved to give or to receive whatever form of human comfort was available from either of them. He didn’t even say a word about what Stephen had just told him. That sort of thing wasn’t welcome. It was too intimate, too personal. Sex was easier; it had nothing of his own self in it except the physical. “Yes. No. Never, and always. It’s easier though. Easier to play along with Carlin than to fight against it, especially when I don’t even know what I want. We play at love, Carlin and I. Maybe because we don’t know how to really experience it. But I’m so sick of it.”

Every restrained emotion in him – rage, confusion, hurt, weariness, longing – had his fists clenching involuntarily, short nails digging into skin too harshly for comfort but too light to do more than leave a pressured indent that would disappear within a few hours, leaving no memory of its existence but an ignored sensation of faint pain. Then, abruptly, Damien relaxed, his smile, weary and subdued as it was, making a reappearance once more. “But that’s life, I suppose. I hate it and I love it. But I won’t stop. I can’t stop. I have to be the best in some way, even if it is just being the boy that almost every sixth and seventh year has slept with. Besides, it’s not like I want love. It’s worthless. Anyway, I know that I’ll always love my life again in the morning, when Carlin teases me about not looking my best and I tell her that I must always look sexy since no one can resist my charms. And no one will know that sometimes I’m so close to giving up on this little competition except me. And you now, I suppose.” Suddenly aware, mind clear and every inch of him subtly on edge, Damien raised both eyebrows at Stephen questioningly though his tone conveyed his inner belief that nothing said here and now would leave the two of them. “I don’t need to tell you not to spread that little piece of information around.”

[Stephen Donahue S7]

Stephen didn’t need to be looking at Damien to hear the shock in his voice. The question had unsettled him, which was what Stephen had been going for. The truth was always unsettling and only after you gave in to the truth did you really understand yourself a little better. Though for Stephen he was certain that no one would ever understand him, least of all himself. There were too many dark emotions running through him…too many dark choices. The longer he sat there the darker his thoughts were. Stephen wanted to do things that no sane person should want to do. It was getting harder and harder to fight, especially as his blood started thrumming in his ears, a sign that his father was about to devise some new brand of torture for the son that had killed him. The firelight flickered as Damien spoke, casting a strange shadow around the room before Stephen turned his attention back to Damien, met his eyes clearly.

Stephen was grateful for the honesty. Not many would openly admit to being sick of a game of their own choosing. There was something about the honesty that Stephen recognized…maybe something within himself a bit. It was amazing how a random night with someone you hardly know could show similarities between the two. As Damien drew to an end Stephen shook his head slightly. He was in disagreement with some of what was being said, but it was more directed at himself than it was at Damien. He didn’t want it to be life. He wanted it all to stop…just like Damien apparently did, but like him he couldn’t. There were too many people that would benefit from Stephen giving up…and that he couldn’t let happen. Stephen had to continue on with what he was doing…continue the reign of darkness. He now owed it to people far more powerful than he and they were the ones he worked for. That is how it was and that’s how it was going to stay.

“I wouldn’t dream of sharing a private conversation with anyone,” Stephen said as his form slowly pulled up from the chair. His father’s form rose as well. Stephen resisted the urge to yell at him…what with Damien sitting right there it would just confirm every rumor whispered in the dark. “You and I are much more alike than I would have ever imagined Lennox. Both longing to rid ourselves of our games, yet both unable to do so. Though I must say I’d rather we switched games for a while. I think I would enjoy yours a bit more than my own, but then I’d miss the fun I do believe.” Stephen smirked a little in the red hued light as he knelt down in front of the fireplace once more, taking the poker out to flare the fire to a little more life. “Think the games will ever stop? Think we’ll ever give up our ‘naughty’ ways and lead a normal – game free life?” Stephen rose and turned back to look at Damien. “We’d be fools to give up our games, but I would like to think that one day I can live in peace.”

“There is no peace! Not for soldiers! Now buck up and get back out there! Destroy the enemy!” his father’s voice shouted and Stephen sighed to himself, his eyes falling back on his father for a moment as he shook his head.
“Maybe peace was a bit of a stretch, but still I wouldn’t mind being alone for a while in the future. Somewhere you couldn’t find me.” The words were directed at his father before his eyes rested back on Damien. “I think it’s time I went for a walk. I trust that anything I shared with you or my behavior in general will be forgotten and locked behind the pearly whites. Wouldn’t do well for my reputation for others to find out that I can actually be civil. I have a feeling we’ll speak again soon Lennox. It’s been a pleasure.” Stephen nodded his head at Damien. A part of him wanted to stay and speak more, but his mind was restless and that did not bode well for the 18 year old. He ran a hand through his hair as he moved around the chair Damien was sitting in. His father followed closely behind him shouting at him to not run away from the battle. The words echoed off the walls around Stephen as he headed out the entrance to the Slytherin Common Room. “Shut up Father.” The words echoed back in through the secret entrance, bouncing around the stone walls before fading away.

((Stephen started getting restless so he ended the post. We can start another if you'd like that. Stephen was surprisingly nice to Damien. I'm actually a bit shocked at how pleasant he was.))

[Damien Lennox S7]

The night was a dangerous time to be awake and in conversation, Damien concluded silently. It led to too much being said, to a feeling of safety coming into existence while enveloped in the dark shimmer of the dying firelight. Not that being alone throughout the night was much better. Less was said verbally, it was true, and no confidences were shared between two people who, despite sharing a room and being Slytherins both, were practically complete strangers. The torture was instead found within the sanctity of one’s own mind, in the memory of what was said or done or, indeed, that which had not been but really should have. It was impossible to escape from, for how was it possible to leave behind thoughts, memories of the past and imaginings of what should have been? No, being cocooned in the warm, impersonal embrace of some faceless, nameless conquest for a few hours of mostly undisturbed rest was largely preferable. There was a reason Damien was rarely found sleeping in his own dorm unless he had someone else taking up space alongside him.

How long until sunrise, until everyone woke up and Carlin’s mocking voice once again brought him back to reality with the harsh jolt that would snap him back into his usual mindset? He couldn’t see the blackness of the night but simply knowing that it was there was too oppressive, almost crushingly so. He wanted it to be day again. Nothing was so confusing during the daytime. Life was life and the game continued without a hitch. That was the way that life should be, the way that it always had been before. The way that it would be again, if only the morning would come quickly. Damien closed his eyes slowly, leaning the back of his head against the seat as he brought Theresa’s image to life in his mind. Faithful copper-haired Theresa who evoked such disdain from Carlin and had only a sliver of fondness from Damien in repayment for her years of dedicated adoration. For a moment, nothing happened and then Damien’s lips gradually curled into a faint sneer. He had no respect for someone who gave so much of herself and received almost nothing in return yet seemed happy with the little she had. That wasn’t what life was for. Life was for winning, and Damien Lennox was a winner. The end result of the game would be proof of that. No other outcome would ever be tolerable in his eyes.

Damien didn’t trust easily, and he certainly didn’t confide in people who weren’t Carlin, her parents or his own parents. Stephen, odd as it seemed even to his own mind, was a startling exception. Not that it mattered. Damien would always have Carlin’s quick brain at his disposal and he wasn’t exactly dull-witted himself. Who would ever believe Stephen Donahue if he proclaimed that Damien Lennox wasn’t quite the dedicated heart-breaker he appeared to be? The thought was laughable. There would be more questions about Stephen’s sanity than the truth behind Damien’s flirtations. Carlin would try her hardest to ruin Stephen as well if he ever pulled such a stunt. For Damien, there was no shame in admitting how deeply his cousin cared for him even if some had tried teasing him about having a girl fighting his battles with him. They didn’t understand that Carlin wasn’t just a girl. No mere girl could ever be so ferocious in the defence of those few she loved. She would break Stephen in any way she could if she felt that she had to. “Feel free to join in at any time. There’s plenty of fun to be found in seduction,” Damien invited dismissively, confident in his silent decision that Stephen would never do any such thing. The Lennox game was, as its uninspired name suggested, for the Lennox family only but a bit of variety and competition was always interesting. Damien smirked slowly, the expression rueful. He did so hate acknowledging that his charm would one day fade in correlation with his looks. “My game will end one day. I can’t always be attractive enough to tempt people into my bed. Your game? I’m not so sure. Maybe I’ll answer that one day when you tell me more about it. But peace can be found without giving up our games. I’m sure of it.”

Intriguing. Very intriguing. There was little chance that the words had been for Damien himself. Stephen had had every opportunity to leave; Damien wouldn’t ever deign to ask someone to stay if he thought they wanted to go away. Some things pride just would not grant him. Besides, someone who wanted to escape from another’s presence would not offer what was, essentially, the promise of another conversation. Such things simply weren’t done. Almost hyperaware of Stephen walking around the back of Damien’s chair, the muscles lying beneath the smooth skin of his right hand rippled with the urge to reach out for human contact in any form. He had bared too much of himself to want the brush of skin against his own though; Damien was somewhat gripped by the irrational fear that touch would be physically painful in some way. Hopefully that would fade before the sun lit the sky. The game would speed ahead whether Damien was prepared for it to or not, and he was still determined to never lose, even to Carlin. Anyway, Stephen didn’t seem like the sort to appreciate unwarranted and uninvited touch. Damien wouldn’t push his luck where that particular roommate was concerned. “Your secrets are safe with me, Stephen. Particularly your hidden civility.” Said without turning around in his chair but with the certainty that the other boy was still in the room, his tone was flippant, as so many things that Damien said often were. The words and the promise resting behind them, however, would never have reasonable cause to be doubted. After all, Damien Lennox didn’t break promises. Ever. He simply didn’t.

((I'm rather sure you already know Damien's answer to that: he has an odd fondness for Stephen that even I can't explain. So yes, certainly, another post would be good or the first meeting for The Chosen could suffice. Whichever you prefer.))