Nargles
Salvatore clenched his fist beneath the table, his entire body coiled and ready to strike as he watched Kit Stone and that wimpy looking Ravenclaw boy touch Victoire like they had some claim to her. Sal had barely touched his food, finding he hardly had an appetite these days and skipping meals altogether so that he didn't have to see Victoire surrounded by her other admirers.
He'd never admit how much it pissed him off to see Victoire with other guys. He knew he'd been a dick to her at times and warned her to stay away from him. He knew it was impossible between them for so many reasons - but he couldn't get Victoire out of his mind. He didn't believe in nargles, but he was pretty sure if they existed, he had an infestation of them floating around in his head. Because his mind had been fuzzy as fuck ever since that silver and blue-haired beauty sauntered to the seat next to his in Potions class. He was losing the plot, and his crew was starting to notice.
"Oi, Rookwood!"
Salvatore turned his gaze away from Victoire at last, glad for a reprieve from watching Kit feed her; looking as pleased with himself as if he'd cooked the food himself. Asshole.
"What?" Salvatore snapped to Roy Macnair, his second in command of the group of elite Slytherins. His crew was made up of the children of Death Eaters and blood purist sympathizers; their parents had essentially set up their friendships since their childhoods. Salvatore naturally commanded the most respect because of his muscles, intimidating as fuck persona, and his brains. Salvatore didn't really consider the crew his friends, though - they were more of an alliance of convenience. He would sometimes watch other students laughing with their friends - Kit, Link, and Victoire included - and feel utterly numb. He rarely laughed, let alone had friends whose company he enjoyed.
"We asked you if you're ready for the next gathering after break?" Roy hissed, looking at Sal expectantly.
"Fine, but we have to plan the next target carefully. That Auror prick is still on our case in Hogsmeade and the fucker suspects me somehow."
Vivianne Parkinson pouted, grabbing Salvatore's arm possessively. Victoire looked towards him at that very moment, frowning at the sight of Vivianne grabbing Sal.
"We'll be very careful, hun. We always are," she bit her lip hopefully as she stared at Salvatore's lips in an obvious way. Salvatore shrugged her off; he'd had no interest in Vivianne since returning to Howgarts this year. They used to fuck around, but he'd had no desire to do so with her nor anyone else since Victoire entered his life. Fuck, those pesky nargles must be to blame. Keep telling yourself that, dickhead.
"What's gotten into you lately, Rookwood? It's like you don't even wanna torture muggleborns anymore," Macnair teased, but Salvatore was smart enough to detect the veiled threat in his words; his hackles raising at the challenge in Macnair's tone. "I'm not the only one who's beginning to question your loyalties, neither."
Salvatore gave Macnair a threatening look that made Roy wince - lesser men would've pissed themselves on the spot at that look, though, so his relative composure was rather impressive. "Have I not participated in every fucking attack thus far? Have I not risen to the challenge our parents set up for us to your liking, Macnair?"
Roy raised his hands in defeat. "I'm only repeating to your face what I've heard others whisper behind your back, boss. You've seemed...distracted recently, and I want you to prove the whisperers wrong for this next attack."
Yup. Whatever the fuck Macnair and the rest of the Slytherin crew were to Salvatore, they were not his friends. Friends might notice a change in someone's behavior and grow concerned and inquire after their wellbeing. Salvatore was nothing more than a gang leader of twisted bastards with no minds of their own, slaves to their parents’ bidding. Salvatore really hated his life and everyone in it. Except for her.
He didn't know what possessed him to do it - maybe the fact that he'd go mad if he didn't. But he rose from his seat and made his way towards Victoire, not giving a fuck that Link gave him a death stare and Kit looked up at him awkwardly.
"I need a word," he told Victoire.
She had half a mind to refuse him for commanding her in that tone, to make him ask nicely; but she missed him so much that she just nodded and got up, bidding her soul mates goodbye. Link looked a bit put out, but Kit put an arm around his back; distracting him and helping him to become more at ease with sharing Victoire.
From across the room, Roy Macnair and Vivianne Parkinson scowled at Salvatore as they watched Victoire follow him out of the Great Hall.
"That whore must be the one distracting Sal from his responsibilities to us," Viv growled, bitterly jealous of Victoire and her hold on Salvatore's attention.
Roy tutted. "That bitch is from a family of blood traitor scum. I say we put an end to this before the next attack, make Rookwood see some sense."
Viv gave him a wicked smile that promised trouble. "Tell me more."
***
Victoire found herself in the Room of Requirement with Salvatore, finding a need in his eyes that her own mirrored, though they put no words to it.
"Are you okay, Salvatore? I've...I've missed you," she admitted, not caring if it made her sound desperate. It was the truth, and one of them had to be brave enough to voice the thousands of words left unspoken between them.
Her words were like flames licking the ice of his frozen heart, causing it to drip slowly for her. It fucking terrified him beyond all hell. He'd just complained internally not ten minutes ago that no one cared about his wellbeing; but here she was, asking if he was okay. Maybe it was small, but apparently he couldn't expect even the bare minimum from the people who expected him to lead them in more crimes.
"I've missed you too, baby," he said, forcing himself to meet her eyes. It was so hard to look at her. She looked like an angel and every second he spent in her gaze, he feared that she'd see the truth of him; see the devil in him and run as far away as she could. He didn't know if even his frozen heart could sustain that loss.
She touched his face soothingly, running her hand gently through his hair like she really cared about him. "Sal, what is it? What's wrong?"
How could she read him like a book? Or maybe he just looked like hell - guilt at what his family made him do kept him awake most nights, and his eyes seemed to be lined in reddish brown like a fucking vampire most days.
"I know I said I wanted a word..." he began, putting a hand on her waist and pulling her flush against him. "But I don't wanna talk. I just wanna be with you."
She frowned, not letting it go that easily. "Please, Sal. Don't shut me out anymore. Tell me what's wrong, and maybe I can help."
"It's not that simple," he growled.
"Please...what did you get up to in the forest that day, Sal?" she asked, a plea in her voice for the truth.
He slammed her facedown onto the bed that appeared at his mental request. He pinned her and bent over her, pulling her hair to one side as he nuzzled into her neck; nipping at her ear in a way that made her arch her back against him. "You never learn your lesson, do you, beautiful?"
His thigh was between her legs and she ground against it needily, desperate for friction. He laughed darkly watching her impatience for him, rising off her and releasing his grip on her.
"How many times do I have to tell you to stop asking me questions?" he asked in his low, gravelly voice; all traces of humor vanished from his tone. She rolled onto her back, eyeing the hard ridge of his dick constraining against his pants hungrily.
"Maybe you should punish me..." she suggested as she looked up at him from beneath her lashes.
Salvatore's eyes gleamed with a darkness that promised her ecstatic pleasure tinged with the sweetest bite of pain. She was addicted to that darkness in him and loved it as much as the light she also saw rise reluctantly at times. He was her wild beast, and she was happy to submit to him in the bedroom - but she was determined to get the truth from him one day soon. For the sake of how much they both seemed to need each other right now, she'd put aside her conversation about her Veela issues and her questions about his mysterious activities for the time being. Because her body, her very soul craved his touch; and she felt certain she'd go insane without it another second.
"It's not punishment if you like it though, is it?" he asked, kissing her neck in a way that most definitely was going to leave a mark.
"What makes you think I enjoy getting spanked?" she asked as innocently as possible, widening her eyes for effect.
He huffed a laugh, not fooled by her act as he began undressing her. "Because your delicious little pussy gets soaked more and more with each blow I deal you."
He stripped her until she was in her matching lacy black bra and panties for him.
"Get on all fours," he commanded in his dark, sultry voice. She obeyed, arching her back for his benefit again as he pulled her towards the edge of the bed. He ran his palms in lazy circles on her ass, spreading her round cheeks as he did so. He slid a finger against her panties, her wetness for him already coming through. He tutted, and she blushed at just how ready her body already was to take him within her. "So wet for me already..."
A wooden paddle appeared for him just as he wished it. "I'm gonna show you what happens when you disobey me. Harder than last time, since you haven't learned your lesson. I don't wanna hear you make a fucking sound. Am I clear?"
"Yes, sir."
He nodded to himself, satisfied with her reply. He slapped her ass hard with the paddle and she squeezed her eyes shut against the pain. She didn't make a sound, but she winced slightly the second time he smacked her ass. He made the third blow against the back of her legs, and she let out a moan of pain and pleasure because it hurt so fucking good.
He dropped the paddle, putting her on her back as he shed his shirt and pants, leaning over her. He slid his hands beneath her thong, rubbing his fingers along her wet centre as she gazed up at him adoringly, her eyes heavily lidded. "Do you like when I'm rough with you, baby?"
She panted her agreement as he masterfully stroked circles around her clit. He swallowed her reply as he kissed her bruisingly, making her lips red and swollen. He kissed her and worked towards giving her a clitoral orgasm until she began begging him to put his fingers in her.
"Please, daddy," she moaned into his lips greedily.
"No, baby," he growled as he continued his torturous play on her clit. "I'm not done teaching you a lesson yet."
She groaned, grabbing his cock as stroking it; eyeing it with need. He smirked sinfully at her and just as she was about to come, he removed his hand and pinned hers above her head to keep her from playing with herself. He lifted her into his arms and she ground against the ridge of his cock desperately for some friction.
"You're so impatient," he reprimanded as he put her on her feet and tied her wrists above her head to one of the bed posts. "I think I know just how to punish you for it," he smiled cruelly, taking his time feeling and making love to her body, tugging at her nipples with his teeth and licking up all of her wetness produced for him, leaving her once again on the brink of orgasm. It felt like hours before he gave her what she wanted - his cock pulsing inside of her, fucking her senseless.
"Have you learned your lesson now baby?" he asked, rubbing his tip along her entrance temptingly.
"Yes, daddy," she breathed.
He slid his dick a few inches inside her, making her face contort with pleasure from the feel of him filling her at last.
"And are you gonna be a good girl from now on?" he prompted as he thrust the rest of his considerable length within her, making her gasp.
"Yes, daddy."
Her legs were wrapped around him and he squeezed her ass tightly, supporting her weight.
"Liar," he groaned, beginning to fuck her at a merciless pace.