<div class="floatleft">(https://i.imgur.com/eiQpxQC.png)</div><div class="floatright">(https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/harrypotter/images/a/ae/Hogwartscrest.png/revision/latest?cb=20110806202805)</div><table class="bbc_table"><tbody><tr><td><strong>NAME:</strong>     </td><td>Dior Darley (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=299655.msg14658800#msg14658800)</td></tr><tr><td><strong>YEAR:</strong>      </td><td>Slytherin | 6th Year</td></tr><tr><td><strong>BLOOD STATUS:</strong>     </td><td>Pureblood</td></tr><tr><td><strong>WAND:</strong>     </td><td>12” | Red Oak | Rougarou Hair | Surprisingly Supple (https://i.imgur.com/jAdaS0i.png)</td></tr><tr><td><strong>WEARING:</strong>     </td><td>Casual Clothes (https://i.imgur.com/zTFS11W.png)</td></tr><tr><td><strong>DATE | TIME:</strong>     </td><td>Friday, September 13th, 2019 | After Dinner</td></tr><tr><td><strong>LOCATION:</strong>     </td><td>Shores of the Black Lake (https://i.imgur.com/8cceKA5.png)</td></tr><tr><td><strong>CONTENT:</strong>     </td><td>Blowing Off Steam</td></tr><tr><td><strong>MOOD MUSIC:</strong>     </td><td><em>My body's waving a white flag... (https://youtu.be/nzLQWSNVFiE)</em></td></tr><tr><td><strong>TAGGING:</strong>     </td><td><strong>Curtis Roark</strong> | <strong>Closed</strong></td></tr></tbody></table><br/><hr/><br/><div class="floatright">(https://i.imgur.com/8cceKA5.png)</div><br/>The last time Curt had been this close, Dior had kissed him.<br/><br/>The memory of that night was never far from her thoughts. She worried it until it unraveled her like the tugging of a loose thread on a poorly made tapestry. She’d gotten drunk, too drunk,<em>blackout</em>drunk, which was something she swore she’d never do. It was so sloppy, so unseemly! If any of the creeps or slags who hated her had seen her, she’d have woken up injured or worse.<br/><br/>Thank Merlin Curt was there. He had been a part of her life for her entire Hogwarts Uni education and at first, she’d been annoyed and disgusted by his dark and dangerous theatrics, which she labeled as<em>“vile and outlandish to the point of revulsion.”</em>Why they hell would he waste a perfectly good face on glam-rock face paint, let alone smash it into a pile of broken glass, or ruin his lips on lightbulbs?! But, she'd grown used to him and in time her disgust morphed more into concern for his health.<br/><br/>And, to her great delight, Curt was always there, ready to be used, whether it was homework, late assignments, or keeping secrets from her parents during the summers he was over, he had proven his Hufflepuff loyalty time and time again. Over the years, she’d gotten to know him better than she realized and thought she saw glimpses of the man behind the mask. The man who wanted to improve himself, who started to see more in himself and begin to take his craft seriously. She thought perhaps that garish goth makeup was a look to keep the world an arm’s length away – just like how she used her personality to control things so that the world only knew about her what she told it.<br/><br/>Throughout it all, Curt was honest. Kind. Funny. A great friend to Derek, and Not only to Derek, who had quickly become his best friend, but to Dior and everyone else he came into contact with. Somewhere along the line, something had changed.<br/><br/>He was always around, looking out for her, being all noble… Curt went from being her brother’s annoying friend to being like another brother…<br/><br/>That summer when she kissed him was the first time she’d ever been honest with her feelings for him. Yes, the kiss had come after being snubbed by her brother for some slag in a blue dress, and video of her kissing Curt was taken for revenge, but Dior had been ready to kiss him well before she actually did it. If she had been sober and acted upon these feelings (like Derek had been urging her to do for months at that point) then there was a chance that things would have ended with a rousing chorus of Kumbaya.<br/><br/>Instead, she’d been drunk, like a dumb slag.<br/><br/>She woke the morning after with a foggy recollection of the night’s details but her phone revealed the video she’d taken of her essentially<em>throwing herself</em>at Curtis Roark for a smooch. Dior was mortified. The video was short and she’d only sent it to one person (her twin), but there was no mistaking the puffiness of her eyes that indicated she’d been a crying cow. And of course, there on video, Curt was the perfect gentleman. He hadn’t even known that she was going to kiss him but he didn’t capitalize on the moment by grabbing or tonguing her, and merely let it happen without making a scene.<br/><br/>Goddamn him.<br/><br/>The video was damning to say the least, but more so, Dior feared what she might have divulged to Curt while in her drunken stupor. She had too many skeletons in her closet to be getting drunk like that. Thankfully, Curt knew nothing of her taboo perversions, a fact she had thoroughly checked, but the damage had been done and the verdict was clear: Curt was too close. If she let things go on the way they were in her heart, then he’d only end up hurt, and she and Derek would be outed as deviants. A softer voice in the darker recess of her mind reminded her that if she were to get in a relationship with Curt that she’d actually feel as if she owed him the truth… Dior wouldn’t live with that kind of guilt. It was better to nip it in the bud, but perhaps she’d been a bit<em>too</em>firm. She had saved the texts between them, going back to reread them from time to time whenever she spent too much time watching the other video she had of Curt – the one that spurred him to come down to the lake and toss his phone at her.<br/><br/><em>“The fuck is wrong with you?! You had no fucking right, Dior! What kind of person sees someone doing that and decides to video them instead of just leaving?! Are you seriously fucked in the head?!”</em><br/><br/>Dior scowled, folding her arms over her chest as she stuck her chin out in defiance.<br/><br/><strong>“Uh, are you really asking why I wouldn’t waste a perfect opportunity to blackmail one of my enemies?”</strong>She lifted her eyebrows as if to say<em>“well?”</em>and then rolled her hazel eyes.<br/><br/><strong>“You act like I went out of my way to catch you shagging when I was minding my own business, in public. <em>You’re</em> the one who came in with some slag and shagged her half out the window without having a look around.”</strong>Her words were like darts, each one coming out like a bullet to make a point. Her head tilted forward and to the right as they squared off, holding her wand at her side.<br/><br/><em>“So what now, Dior?! It wasn't good enough for you to fuck with me over the summer? You just needed to do it again? Is this some kind of threat? You want something and if I don't give it to you, you're gonna send that to everyone?!”</em>When he threw his arms out in anger, Dior stepped suddenly back. Regardless of the fact that she was certain that he wouldn’t hurt her on purpose, the snake did not take kindly to being cornered by the badger and instinctively recoiled.<br/><br/><strong>“I haven’t sent it to anyone else!”</strong>she snapped, as if that exonerated her of any wrongdoing. Her lower jaw was sticking out defiantly, but almost as if she were pouting. She chewed her lip irritably as her eyes flickered from his intense blue gaze. He was staring down at her and even though he was only 7 centimeters taller, the look in his eyes was boring a hole into her mind that sent a ripple of excitement into her lower gut.<br/><br/><strong>“And I won’t. Consider it a friendly warning. The next person who catches you might not be as forgiving as I am.”</strong><br/>