The Biggest Mistake?

Preston Paine

Well-Known Member
Messages
590
Wand
Curved 9 1/2 Inch Flexible Chestnut Wand with Mermaid Scale Core
Age
2/2020
After a visit to the hospital wing to heal the large cuts on his knuckles, sustained after punching a wall, Preston still could feel the anger coursing through his blood. The injustice of that whole meeting had left Preston more angry than he'd ever been before. And the more he thought about it, the more he could feel his blood boiling. His face felt hot and his knuckles still throbbed to the beat of his heart despite having been healed moments ago. Preston knew that he'd eventually have to deal with Styx, no doubt the man and the rest of the school would hear about all that had transpired in the prefect's common room and Preston's role in it. The Slytherin grimaced, frown lines etched into his forehead as he made his way down the corridor, happy to have one thing go right for him with not encountering anyone at all.

He wasn't as lucky as he stomped up the steps, a group of first year girls quickly scurrying out of the way once they caught sight of his face and the blood on his t-shirt, the only way to tell he'd been injured at all. Preston took a deep breath, wondering what he could do to calm down some. He didn't really play any sports, certainly not Quidditch so flying to burn off energy was out of the question. With a heavy sigh, Preston continued walking, determined to keep pacing the halls until curfew forced him into his common room. It was the only plan he had and walking required little thought anyway, allowing him the opportunity to keep stewing.
 
By now, virtually everyone had heard about Slytherins status with regards to points. Abel, not being a prefect nor having anyone he spoke to within the prefects, did not know that exact reason why this had occurred. They were in negative points! The year had not even truly started and they were already in the negatives. He had not even known it to be possible - what were Slytherins doing now? The points had just slipped down, but it was such a drastic drop that everyone had noticed. And, even though Abel was hardly someone that frequented large groups, and the amount of times he checked the state of the Slytherin points could be counted on one hand. But a dip in minus points was something that even Abel could not ignore, and nor could anyone else. Who ever did this was probably going to mysteriously disappear from the school or something. The thought of having his name stuck to Slytherin being in minus caused a chill to run down his spine. By Merlin he was glad to be an invisible student.

Abel heard footsteps in front of him, but took little notice of them. He had his head down, not entirely looking where he was going as he assumed that he would be fine to walk where he pleased, and Killy was here. Even though his friend had in the past allowed him to bump into people, such as in the Owlery, he was usually pretty good. Abel eventually looked up, however, when the steps came closer. He was visibly surprised to see Preston Paine. Not only did he look severely p!ssed, but he also had blood on his shirt. Abel had not really spoken to him for some time. He saw him regularly, as they were in the same year, same house, same classes, and had been since first year. He liked to pretend that he ignored Preston because he was a muggle-born, something he would have definitely done in the past, but he was not disgusted by Preston's status. He was ashamed of his own opinion of him because of his status. Realisation had slapped the pureblood in the face over the previous year, and he still found himself falling back on all assumptions and expectations implemented by a family he was no-longer welcome in.

He quickly looked at Killy to see if he could guess whether Killua and Preston had history together. He would not want to start a conversation with the so obviously furious prefect and then find out that Killy and Preston hated each other. A fight or something could erupt right before his eyes. "Preston, um...are you okay? Your shirt." He vaguely gestured to Preston's torso - as if the prefect had somehow missed the fact that there was blood stains on the uniform. He then looked at Killua, begging him to say something that was way less awkward than he was being. This really wasn't his day, and dealing with angry people that he was sure thought he was still a typical prejudice pureblood. He still remembered that conversation years ago they had where he jokingly referred to Preston as a muggle-lover. He must have been the sort of person that Preston hated.
 
Killua had heard about the current point status of the Slytherin house, and to be quite honest, he didn't care about it. What was it about with Hogwarts, houses and points anyway? Not like he could show it to anyone when he graduates and be all like: I earned 579 points for the Slytherin house in my fourth year, am I accepted in this job now? or be like: I was in Gryffindor when we won the house cup three times. Can I be an auror now? That wasn't exactly how the way things were outside of the school. They only cared about the results shown in their NEWTs, how good was the person with the job and how efficient or proficient the person will be. They won't be snooping around for the results of the house cups or quidditch cups. They won't even try to look at the highest points you've earned in the whole seven years of study! Killua knew this more than any other student in the school. People outside weren't looking for brains or muscles. They were looking for people who could get the job done, almost regardless of their performance in school. And so, that is completely the reason for his complete neglect of the drastic change in the house points of the Slytherins. Besides, it isn't like the students aren't going to work hard to regain their points. They had much too high of a pride to be beaten by Hufflepuffs, though Killy wasn't one to care whoever wins the House Cup. It could be Durmstrang for all he cared.

And so, as he walked behind his friend Abel, his mind was completely focused on the path they were walking on. He had to make sure that neither he nor Abel walked into other students of course. It was his job to watch over his friend considering that his werewolf of a friend was always distracted whilst they walk to the point that he will bump into several people and several things if Killua didn't maneuver both of them. It was quite annoying the first few times, but eventually the former assassin had just gotten used to such a job. This time though, he took notice of the fact that the corridors were almost vacated, saved for one person aside from the two of them. Preston Paine. Kil had never really known him aside from the fact that he was made prefect. Anymore than that was ignored or forgotten by the Slytherin. His brown orbs though took notice of the fact that his shirt was stained with blood. He had recognized it easily thanks to his most unpleasant history with them. He was going to ignore him but it had seemed that Abel had a different idea. And so, even as his best friend had looked to him for help, Killy really had no idea what to do or to say. It wasn't like he was any better at this than Abel was. "Anything happened?" was all he managed to come up with even as he thought of something to say for minutes on end.
 
Preston started when he heard someone say his name. He looked up slowly, his eyes gazing through the two boys for a moment without really seeing them. It was a sign of how bad Preston was feeling. As the words from the two boys finally registered in his brain, Preston looked down at his shirt curiously as if he had no idea what they were talking about. He sort of didn't. After leaving the meeting, Preston had entered the nearest empty classroom, slamming the door behind him and letting out an angry groan as he'd aimed at the door. The Slytherin's knuckles had paid the price, landing just to the right of the door on the unforgiving stone wall and splitting open. He'd stared at them for a moment, dumbfounded before racing out of the room to the hospital wing. At some point, he must have used his shirt to wipe the blood from his hand. He didn't remember doing so though.

"Yea, you could say that" he muttered just loud enough for the guys to hear him. The Slytherin brushed his shirt down, but there was little he could do about the stains. Glancing down at his knuckles, Preston continued speaking. Maybe if he continued to speak, he would feel better. Something had to work. And he and Abel had been friendly in the past. They weren't best friends or anything, but he'd never done anything like Sergei had to him. The other guy with Abel wasn't as familiar to Preston. He'd seen him before in classes and around the common room and boy's rooms, but he didn't know much more than the guy's name. Killuas something. Still, he'd never been unfriendly towards Preston even after he'd been outed as a muggleborn. At least not to his face. " I was mad about something and hit a wall. The wall won" he stated bitterly.
 
Killua had been very little help to him, but had fortunately not managed to make the situation worse. Abel should not have expected Preston and Killua to actually know each other in any capacity - did Killua even talk to anyone? It sort of felt that, if he were not with Abel, Killy was no-where, and simply didn't really exist outside of Abel's immediate vicinity. He was incredibly aloof for someone that had been attending the school for six years now. He could probably run around pretending to be a fresh new transfer student for Merlin's sake he was so inconspicuous. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes at Killy's lack of assistance, being concerned about having this action misinterpreted by Preston. He did not know if Preston was coming off being agitated, or still very much controlled by his emotions, and the last thing he wanted was to get into a fight with Preston - or anyone, for that matter. He didn't want to hurt someone. Especially considering what he was.

He didn't yell at them, that was a good start. He described his... fight? with the wall, and obviously he had lost. Last Abel checked, walls could do a number on knuckles, especially the often stone walls the school was built with. "Do you need any help?" He wasn't sure how he would be able to help, though, as he was not a nurse and Preston could probably manage his way to the hospital wing if he needed it. "Do you... want to talk about it?" Really, all Abel could do was lend an ear, because otherwise there was nothing he, nor Killy, could really do that someone else couldn't do better.
 
Killua just stared silently as the boy looked over at his shirt as if he had noticed it for the first time. Well, there was quite a number of blotches of blood stains all over it and seeing the boy's hands, he could easily tell that frustration was being pent up inside of him. He knew how that felt and it felt really awful and he hated that feeling really. So while he clearly had no idea about what happened to cause this Slytherin to go all rampant with the wall, he slightly understood what the boy was feeling. And though Killy probably wasn't the best person to seek comfort from, he does try his best most of the time though it was quite often that Mitch would point out that he really isn't the best choice for comfort. Who could blame him? He was raised to be cold and heartless and only recently was he getting on friendly terms with different emotions. With a sigh he remained silent for a small moment.

He watched in silence as Abel tried to keep Preston calm and probably try to get him to talk. Well, there were two kinds of people really from what he knew of when he was being raised. First is the one who needs a listener. The second was one who needed a punching bag. The prefect seemed to be more of the latter than the former. And so, despite his best friend's attempt to keep the prefect calm, the former assassin couldn't help but blurt words out that he was certain would earn him an earful from his friend. "You shouldn't have hit the wall. That would be painful. It's a feisty b*tch," he said with a small shrug as he looked at the boy in the eye. "If you're still frustrated, you're welcome to throw a couple of punches my way," Killy looked at him seriously. He really didn't mean any harm, but it was a rather innocent suggestion in his own standards. And besides he was willing to be this guy's sparring partner and it wasn't like he was going to throw punches back. He'll only be just like a punching bag really.
 
Preston stared down at his knuckles as the boys spoke to him. They had vastly different approaches on how to help him though, and Preston glanced up sharply at Abel to see if his friend was being serious with his suggestion. Preston didn't know the other Slytherin enough to tell, but he appeared serious. With a shake of his head, Preston began to speak. " Uh...I think I'm good now. Thanks though" he responded quietly. Preston typically wasn't a violent person. He had just been so angry and frustrated by what had transpired during that stupid meeting. It was obvious that the Head students did not give a damn about his issues and probably cared even less because he was a Slytherin. Just thinking about it was enough to make Preston begin to get angry again.

He balled his hand into a fist, or tried to anyway. The movement set his tender knuckles on fire, and the teen winced and quickly loosened his grip, shaking his hand out. With a curse, the prefect turned his attention towards the more reasonable of the two guys and sighed. "I got stuck on patrol with Sergei." He rolled his eyes before continuing. "And I wasted my breath complaining to Ai and what's his name. Maybe if I was a Hufflepuff or a Ravenclaw ..." he narrowed his eyes at what to him had been blatant House bias. " And I lost house points and am probably gonna get summoned to see Styx at some point." His shoulders slumped as what he said settled in. Preston knew that Styx was going to be pissed. "I'm a dead man walking" he groaned dramatically.
 

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