Friend Like Me (DAMIAN)

Rhys sat in the commonroom in the middle of the night, doing the one thing on one expected- reading a large book contently. In fact, this was the first book Rhys had opened all year and he was quite proud of that. Putting his feet up on the table, he flipped the page, humming a slow dance that had been hopping around in his head.

Rhys let out a yawn and the book slipped, revealing a magazine underneath. He wondered why he even bothered hiding the magazine as he adjusted on the couch. No one was up this late anyway.

Damian couldn't sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, his mind went to... rather distracting places.

He'd thought about Iva often for some time, but never like this. This - this was almost literally every moment he wasn't focused on something like school (and sometimes even then). It had been that way ever since that moment in the clock tower.

The boy shook his head. He'd never sleep this way. Talking to Asric, enlightening though it was, hadn't really helped. If anything, it had made his mind fixated even more.

Wandering out of his dorm, he made his way across the common room. Only to find it occupied by one of the older students. Rhys something, he recalled.

"Oh," he mumbled. "Hi."

Rhys looked over his shoulder to see some second year- Damian or something- standing there, rubbing his eyes. Rhys sighed and closed his book. He wasn't going to read girl magazines with this guy around.

"Hello to you too," he said, shrugging as he turned back around, "Why are you up? Bad dreams?"

Rhys chuckled to himself. "Or were your dreams too good to sleep, eh?"

Damian scowled at the other boy and the way he was talking down at him. If he remembered right, he was only a fourth year, which meant he was only a year older.

"I'm a bit old for 'bad dreams', don't you think?" he retorted. There were still occasionally the dreams about his sister, on the day she died, but Damian didn't count those. He flushed at the mention of 'good dreams', but deigned not to respond. It wasn't the guy's business.

He seated himself in a chair, snagging a Quidditch magazine someone had left on the coffee table.

Rhys rolled his neck to free it from kinks, then watched the boy. Quidditch? What was he, three?

"You're never too old for nightmares, loser," he replied, flipping a page in the hidden magazine. He tilted the book on the side and admired the girl with a hungry gaze. "And you're not even old, buddy. I bet you're still a kid,"

"'Nightmares' has a different connotation than 'bad dreams'," Damian pointed out, tossing the magazine back in boredom and turning to throw his legs over one arm of the chair. "'Bad dreams' makes it sound like I'm four. I'm thirteen, thank you very much.

"What are you actually reading behind that prop book, anyway? And why hide it? It's not like anyone's around to see what you're reading. Most people are asleep, pretending to sleep, or wandering about the castle."

Rhys grinned, shaking his head as he tossed the book away. "It's more of a pride thing. And I don't want to corrupt your little mind," He flashed the cover at the boy, showing a curvy blonde woman in little clothes at all.

"Thirteen is your age, but you're still only ten mentally, aren't cha?" he sihed fondly, "When I was your age... well, I can't tell you that,"

Damian's glimpse of the cover was brief, but the boy saw enough to make his face flush slightly.

He scowled. "Am not!" he retorted. He rolled off the chair onto his feet. "I don't wanna know, either." Damian started towards the door leading out to the corridor. There was an entire castle of which he was still exploring every nook. He didn't need to stay here and be insulted by someone who was practically his own age.

Rhys let out a bark of laughter at the boy's face.

"If that made you blush, wait until you see page 56," He joked, leaning back in the chair. The boy was about to leave when Rhys flipped the page and chuckled. Damian was a hot head, he knew, and Rhys just wanted a little drama for once.

"Oo, this girl reminds me of your girlfriend!" he remarked, "Hm, look, she makes the same 'please, don't hurt me,' look that Iva does! And she's Russian, look at that!"

Rhys was looking at a cigarette ad at the moment with no girls in sight, but Damian didn't need to know that.

"And look how small that bra is!"

Damian, with an effort of will, ignored the older boy. So what if some stupid picture made him blush?

His will had only so much dominance over his temper, however, and at thirteen, that wasn't very much.

Damian whirled about, yanking Rhys off the sofa with a strength one wouldn't suspect of a boy just hitting his first growth spurt. He tore the magazine from Rhys' hands and threw it across the room. Then, tightly grasping the older boy's collar, Damian jerked his face within inches of his own, blue eyes flashing with fury.

"You don't talk about her like that," Damian growled. "You don't talk about her, at all!"

Rhys blinked in mock surprise, then gave a cheesy smile. Perfect. This is what he wanted. Absolutely perfect.

"Aw, you jealous I get more action than you do from your girl?" He teased, grabbing his collar in retialation. He stood and yanked the boy into his toes with a wicked grin.

"I bet she doesn't give any to little boys like you, huh?" Thinking back the what people said about the annoying Russian, this was probably true. If she didn't like touching, she certainly wouldn't be 'playing around' for a while.

Damian gritted his teeth so hard, it was audible. His breathing had quickened with his temper and his eyes practically burn with anger.

Two things governed what he did next: He'd promised his Master to try to behave - really try.

And he'd abruptly realized the other boy was trying to wind him up.

Damian gave Rhys a shove back onto the sofa, shrugging off the older boy's hold on his shirt. "Idiot," he snarled. "How stupid do you think I am? She wouldn't even let you touch her."

Rhys looked up at the boy, whom was smarter than expected. He had seen through the plot to rile him up. Rhys was already working around this problem though.

"I never said she let me," he said, a bit of poison in his voice. He crossed his leg and gave a soft roll of the shoulders, "She struggled, of course. Most people would,"

The older boy looked up at his dark haired companion with a distant sigh. "Her tongue tasted ssweet mixed with her blood,

For a second - maybe two - Damian did absolutely nothing. He didn't even twitch.

But his promise to Asric did not come before Iva. Damian didn't even care what the consequences would be. No one hurt her. Nobody even joked about it.

Damian jerked Rhys back up again and tackled him to the floor. A moment later, he sat astride the older boy, an arm pressed into his throat as the opposite fist hovered in the air, ready to strike out. It had already connected at least once.

Rhys leaned his head back on to the floor, a sigh caught in his throat. The twitch of his heart had stopped as Damian attacked and the other withdrawl signs were vanishing as well.

Someone's.. pissed!" he choked out, not even fighting back, "Maybe I... should actually do it now... I bet she...cries,"

Damian let out a feral snarl. He increased the pressure against Rhys' throat momentarily.

"You actually do it," he growled, "you so much as touch her, and I will kill you." It wasn't an idle threat; the look in those blue eyes assured that. It was a promise.

Shoving himself back up, he kicked the coffee table out of the way rather than walk around it, storming towards the door, once more.

Rhys sat up, wiping a bit of spittle from the corner of his mouth. Perfect. He rolled a shoulder, then the other, with a quick grin. The withdraw had left him momentarily when he wasn't thinking about it.

"Why would I want an ugly girl anyway?" he rolled his eyes as he tormented the boy, finding a weak spot in the boy's personality, "She's a bit fat, don'tcha think? And homely,"

Damian paused with his hand on the doorknob, turning to look at his housemate. "Go screw yourself," he said calmly. "Or find some empty-headed twig to do it for you. I don't expect you to understand how it feels to actually like someone, so I won't waste my breath."

He opened the door.

Rhys stood, his eyebrow twitching with confusion. Aria isn't empty headed. She was bright and inquisitive and, well, Aria. He leaned against the chair casually, thinking of a come back.

"At least girls like me," he decided upon, "I mean, why would Iva date you? You're short. She probably only does it to use you. She is a Slytherin after all. Slytherins only do things to get what they want. I bet she doesn't even like you,"

Damian narrowed his eyes at the light-haired boy. "Are you that bored?" he asked bluntly. He knew for a fact that girls liked him. There was a particularly creepy second-year, in fact...

The boy shuddered.

"Why do you even care? You just said she's homely. Besides, it's none of your business," Damian pointed out. "What d'ya really want?"

Rhys sat down again, mussing up his hair.

"Why, in fact, I am that bored," he replied, "I love watching you freak out. Makes me smile.

"I was just going to spread the adult knowledge to you at first, then I changed my mind," Rhys reached for his prop book with a yawn, "You don't need to know about pleasing anyway,"

Damian snorted. At least the guy was honest. He started out the door again, only to halt again.

"Why would you want to tell me in the first place?" he asked, wrinkling his nose just a bit. "Better question: why would I let you? I don't need you to tell me about p-pleasing." A very faint blush colored his face at the mere, mortifying thought.

Rhys picked at a spot on the couch, furrowing his row with annoyance. Merlin, why didn't that kid couldn't just leave. He was obviously just messing with him, but Damian kept coming back for more. He swallowed, feeling the sting of saliva on injured skin.

"Just passing down the ancient man knowledge," he shrugged, looking back up at him, "Being nice and all,"

Damian narrowed his eyes. "Whatever," he said, the word just as much dismissal as decision. "If I wanna know, I can figure it out myself.

"Oh, and by the way - you have a really screwed up way of being nice." And then, he did open the door, stepping out into the corridor and closing it behind him.