Cruelty
@prongsfoot-microfic
wc≈1000, tw blood
A Slytherin Beater pulls a forbidden move, undercutting James’s broom with a Bludger, while the crowd and referees are busy with a fight at the other end of the pitch. James falls from his broom, and he’ll definitely blame himself later — typical James, always believing he should have held on, no matter what. Even though it was impossible for anyone to stay on in that situation, he’ll probably say, "It doesn't matter that no one else could have stayed on. I should have."
What follows is a blur: shocked gasps, the game stopping, medical attention, the hospital wing. The search for the culprit.
No one saw how Wilkes did it. No one, that is, except Sirius. Sirius always keeps a watchful eye on James during games. But in Quidditch, there’s a golden rule — if the referees didn’t catch it, it might as well not have happened.
After the game, as everyone's dissecting the match, Wilkes casually passes by Sirius, giving him a cheeky wink and a smug grin.
Wilkes thinks he’s got away with it.
—
Sirius heads into the boys' bathroom on the fourth floor and slams the door behind him. His shoes echo on the stone floor, the sound filling the empty room, which carries a faint smell of soap and stale air.
Wilkes, completely unaware, whistles a tacky old Celestina Warbeck tune as he stands in front of the loo.
"Didn't expect me?" Sirius whispers into his ear, pressing his wand against Wilkes's back. It’s a pointless move in a real duel, but good for a bit of a scare.
Wilkes flinches. He looks ahead and sees Black in the mirror, his eyes lighting up with realisation.
"What do you want, Black?" Wilkes responds, casually finishing up and slowly pulling his trousers back up over his pale arse. He doesn't look the least bit scared. "Can’t sleep, haunted by your wounded Gryffindor sense of justice?"
"Of justice? You think too highly of me," Sirius replies, his fingers deftly searching through the pockets of Wilkes's robe for his wand.
Wilkes, caught off guard, reacts swiftly, snatching the wand back. A flurry of bright magic flashes shoot between them, until the tussle ends with the wand in Sirius’s hands. With a mocking gesture, Wilkes raises his hands as if to surrender, then leans casually against the sink, crossing his legs and grinning broadly. Sirius quickly takes a look at the wand.
"Oak, eight inches," Sirius comments matter-of-factly. "So short.” He twirls the wand carelessly in his hand and tosses it into the loo. The splash is followed by tiny droplets scattering around.
Wilkes laughs loudly, his eyes gleaming with wild joy and mockery. What a sick bastard, thinks Sirius. The Slytherin pushes off from the sink and steps towards Sirius.
"Alright," Wilkes says, coming up close and deliberately pressing his chest against the wand aimed at him. He has never been one to back down. "What do you want?"
Sirius smiles slightly.
"Since you’re so curious," he replies coolly, "I’ll take a bit of roast beef, some time with Katie, and...," his voice drops just a touch, "the pleasure of hearing you moan in pain."
Just like James moaned, dealing with serious injuries from the fall you caused.
Wilkes chuckles, unflustered, "While I can’t help with all your desires, with the second one... Actually, I’m not Katie, but I certainly can fuck you." He suggestively grabs his balls through the robe, his grin widening, "And you'll see that the length of the wand doesn’t really match up with this."
The smile slids off Sirius's face, his hand instantly reaching for Wilkes's hair, his fingers tightly gripping the black strands. Sirius yanks Wilkes's head down sharply and knees him in the nose. The sound of the impact is dull; a bloody print remains on Sirius's trousers.
Wilkes gasps, pressing his hand against his bleeding nose. Blood seeps through his fingers; he glances at it, then locks eyes with Sirius. With a raspy growl, "You fucking bastard," Wilkes lunges at Sirius. Wilkes is bigger, bulkier; there’s no point testing fate. Sirius's strong suit has always been his quick reactions, and the only person with faster reflexes is Bella.
Sirius flicks his wand, and the Incarcerous spell immobilises the boy. Wilkes falls to the floor, face down, thudding against the cold floor, his coarse groan echoing in the empty space.
Sirius kneels beside him, grabs Wilkes by the hair, and harshly lifts his face off the floor, forcing him to meet his eyes.
"I’d better not ever catch you even glancing his way again," Sirius says, his voice low. He always speaks quietly in tense moments, probably something he picked up from his father —everyone knew the quieter Orion spoke, the graver the situation.
Wilkes clearly understands whom he's talking about.
"Or what?"
"Curious? Try to dig deeper, but don’t whine when the grave turns out to be yours."
Wilkes spits out, then lets out a hoarse laugh, blood and saliva dripping from his chin.
"You’ve got no backup anymore, mate. You’re on your own now. Attacking me and throwing threats, are you thick?" He throws out roughly, "Or just insane?"
"I think," Sirius, tightening his grip on Wilkes's hair, making him wince in pain, his face so close that Wilkes can surely feel his breath, "you know the answer."
Sirius lets go, and Wilkes’s head crashes down onto the stone floor. The echo of the impact briefly fills the empty bathroom.
Sirius moves towards the door, his hand reaching for the cold metal handle, when he hears a raspy voice behind him:
"It's him, isn't it?"
His hand freezes on the handle, but Sirius doesn’t turn around.
"You left your family because of him, right?" Wilkes repeats, somehow managing to keep a defiant tone.
Sirius stays silent, his grip on the handle tightening.
"You left your family because of him." Regulus says in a contemptuous, icy voice, cutting through the silence as they speak for the first time since Sirius ran away from home.
The handle turns fully, and in a moment, Wilkes is left lying alone on the stone floor.
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