Finished Avery Shade of Gray PV w/ Max Avery

When the letter had first come, Max had choked on the water and he'd been drinking and spent a solid ten minutes coughing while trying to work up the courage to open it. He'd seen the name Gray and thought, for a few absurdly stupid moments, that his old friend Tommy had remembered everything. There were a ton of plot holes in that one - Tom didn't know about Hogwarts, muggles didn't use owls, and Tom probably wouldn't send him one even if he did remember - but Max was panicking nonetheless. He had to take a short walk with the letter dampening from the sweat on his palm as he tried to calm down, his emotions an absolute mess until he finally looked at the letter again to see that it said Dorian. Idiot. Gray was a popular surname; he'd been freaking out over nothing.

Still a little shaky, he let out a small laugh and tore the letter open, expecting some sort of invitation to join a pure-blood group or something. His smile slowly faded as he read the contents of the letter, his jaw tightening. A threat? To Aubren? He'd dealt with threats before (and been the object of several disastrously unsuccessful kidnappings from people who wanted money), but this was on a whole different level.

For once, someone had found something he genuinely cared about. This was why it was bad to make to friends; someone could always use them against you. And what did this Dorian fellow want, anyway? Was he looking for revenge for James or Rosie? Was it personal? Was he an assassin sent for a political play?

Sweat beaded on Max's neck as he systematically tore the sheet into small pieces then lit it on fire with an uttered spell. He knew of Dorian. A troublemaker who'd already gotten detention within their first few weeks, and a guy a lot of people considered dumb. This wasn't the work of someone dumb. Aubren had also mentioned the other boy in a generally favourable tone, so it was no bluff that he could get her to the Tower and throw her off. If he wasn't careful... Well, he really didn't want to die tonight. And Aubren dying was just as unacceptable, if not more so.

The rest of the day was spent in a disorganized mess as he tried to learn everything he could about Dorian. It had been a long, long time since he'd felt so out of control, and he had to keep forcing back panic the more he learned. Pure-blood. Good at spells. Had already made a few enemies. Had started a fight or gotten into one - the rumours weren't clear on which, just like they weren't clear on whether he'd killed the guy or it had just been a few punches. Surely he couldn't have killed someone if he only had detention, but still... Was he capable of it?

When the time came, Max was so on edge he felt like he was jumping at every shadow. A trade, maybe? His life for hers? He would've already been at the tower so he could plan his strategy and hide until Dorian came if he wasn't scared that his blackmailer would be pissed at that and decide to hurt Aubren for that kind of insolence.

He finally got to the top just in time to hear the guy talk to himself, and used the opportunity to ease open the door and slip in unnoticed. It took only a second to slip off his shoes so they wouldn't make a sound, the cold from the stone under his feet seeping through his socks. He took a moment to note the surroundings and search for Aubren. Not there. Not hovering midair or tied up anywhere, though it was possible an invisibility cloak was being used. His eyes snapped back to the figure and he took out his wand, padding up on silent feet to press the tip of the aspen to the back of Dorian's neck.

"It is cool up here, in the sense that it's cold," Max agreed, proud when his voice didn't tremble or sound pleading. "So I think I'd like a human bonfire, preferably out of someone who thinks they're powerful enough to summon up Averys. Where is she?"

He hadn't heard the sound of the approaching footsteps, but wasn't too surprised when he felt the tip of the wand poking into the back of his neck. Dorian admitted then and there that he had misjudged what the boy would do. He had expected him to enter the scene all sweaty and out of breath from running up all those flights of stairs, only to entreaty Dorian in a desperate plea to release his friend. Suffice it to say, Dorian's miscalculation had left him unprepared for the level of hostility that he now faced. He was undoubtedly taking a huge risk. A cornered Avery didn't seem like the type of creature to wag their tail docilely and allow things to be done to them. They did the doing, and it was all Dorian could do to not retaliate immediately. He didn't like being in this position, on the receiving end of antagonism that is. But he wasn't through with his game yet, wanting to see just how much he could rile the boy up and what lengths he would go to when backed into a corner.

"It really is cool huh?" Internally, he was a bundle of nerves threatening to constrict, but he managed to maintain a calm outward demeanor. His back turned to Max, the other boy could not see his arms crossed with the elbows supporting his weight being pressed against the tower's edge. In his right hand was his wand, hidden from clear view. He was prepared to defend himself should Max decide to go on the offensive, but until then he would not be the first to attack. Dorian lifted his head just enough to look directly at the stars above, still very much aware of the wand on his skin, but coolly, he addressed his current situation. "You know, everyone kept talking about how crazy smart you are and how you're not someone people want to mess with, but I have to say I'm not impressed." Dorian raised his shoulders in a semblance of a shrug. "As you can see, Aubren isn't here. I'm not that stupid. She's currently unconscious and being held...elsewhere. Safe, for the time being, but that can all change depending on what you do here tonight."

Dorian had to admit, he was laying on the villainy a bit thick, but he was loving every minute of it. He had never impersonated a truly evil persona before, and would definitely have to remember to ask Max's opinion on how well he did, assuming Max would be in a forgiving mood after all was said and done. Already his diminishing tolerance level was below critical, Dorian could feel it in the tension with which he held the wand pressed to his neck. He could snap at any moment and make true on his promise to burn Dorian to a cinder. He dealt the final blow with his next words. "If I don't send a message to my accomplice in the next fifteen minutes he'll act under the assumption that I was compromised and... Let's just say that it won't be too pretty for your friend if something should happen to me." Dorian was resisting his natural urge to utilize his years of Muggle self-defense training to subdue Max, electing to see how far he could push before violent intervention became a necessity.

The blood drained from Max's face as he struggled to keep his emotions under control, his veins becoming highways for ice instead of blood. He hadn't really considered the possibility that Dorian might have an accomplice, which was a complete and total amateur move on his part. Of course someone invested in going through with this would pay for more than one person. Even if he was eleven, he was still an Avery - they'd hire as many people as it took to put him down if that's what they wanted. But... this was Hogwarts. There couldn't be too many people getting through the security measures. It had to be two, three at the most. He resisted the urge to look over his shoulder.

"So you want something," he stated abruptly, knuckles going white on his wand. If this guy really was a hired hand, Max couldn't underestimate him - fifteen minutes wouldn't be enough time to torture the information out of him. Not when he couldn't do like his parents and use Crucio on a Gray. What did he want, then? Now that Max thought about it, it would've been easy for two people to kill him somehow. He was a light sleeper but a cursed 'present' or poison in the food would do the trick. He cursed himself for ever trusting Hogwarts's defense. He'd made too many mistakes, not the least of which being showing that he cared about Aubren's health.

"You don't want me dead, so... let's see. Torture me to insanity trying to figure out company secrets? Kidnap me and demand ransom? Sell me into the slave trade to bother my parents? Or - " Another thought dawned on him that was so horrible it made him feel sick. What if his parents had heard about his friendship with the half-blood girl? He wouldn't put anything past them, least of all hiring people to kill Aubren and then beat him into oblivion for his disobedience.

"I have no guarantee you haven't killed her already," he forced out through gritted teeth, his grip tightening on his wand so that his hand didn't shake. "And half of her family is pure-blood. If they find out what you did, they'd kill you. But you must already know that, right? So you can't be planning to let her go at all. Even if she turned up with no memories, people would investigate what happened."

He hesitated, for a second wondering if it would even be worth it to give himself up. Damn Aubren and the way she'd gotten through his defenses - his father wouldn't be stupid enough to care about someone that way. He closed his eyes briefly, grimacing. If he was older and wiser, he would've threatened the Imperius Curse. But what idiot would believe he knew it, especially if they were hired by his parents? He stepped back and lifted his wand away from Dorian's neck.

He put it instead beneath his own chin, digging it into the soft flesh and closing his eyes in grim determination. "Whatever you want, it isn't supposed to end to with my death. I don't want that either, but I can do the next best thing. If she isn't handed over to a Professor alive in the next three minutes, I'll burn out my tongue. No amount of torture can get me to talk with no tongue, my parents won't pay for damaged goods, and my only value as a slave comes from a face that I'll ruin. If you know anything about me at all, you know I'm not bluffing."

It was true. He really, really didn't want to burn out his tongue since words were his greatest asset, but it just might be necessary. And if he did have to do it, he would still find a way to worm his way out of whatever shit he got in and make Gray and the people behind this pay a hundred times worse than anything they did to him.

The panic and confusion hit him like heavy waves in a storm crashing against a stalwart bluff. Dorian stood stupefied as he heard Max begin to come undone behind him. Torturing for company secrets? Kidnap for ransom?? Selling into slavery??? Just what had he gotten himself into? Who was this boy that believed that someone would truly send students for hire to do any of these things? What kind of life had he been living all this time? A part of Dorian felt troubled beyond words at whatever trauma he was causing the boy to relive, but another, much darker side of his psyche reveled in the fact that he had been able to garner such an enigmatic reaction. He didn't smile though, nor did he so much as flinch, the more rational side of himself registering fear for the fact that someone in Max's current frame of mind was the most lethal one could get. He didn't so much as take deep breaths, keeping them shallow and paced, any sudden movement a possibility that he would be burned as had been promised before.

Dorian had to wonder how it was possible that someone's mind could have gone to such dark places so quickly. Exactly what kind of life had Max been living? He felt so sorry for him that he was about to drop the entire ruse and apologize, something he never did. Not once. Granted he had never pulled a stunt such as this one, nor had he ever taken any of his other bouts of mischief to levels of sworn violence. But before anything could be said or done, he felt relief from the ungiving presence of the wand to his neck followed by Max's next words that shook him to the core. He spun so quickly on his heels he almost lost his balance and fell. As soon as he saw where the other male had the wand pointed, his train of thought crashed. "Dude!" Dorian's current state of disbelief allowed for nothing more coherent than the single, inapt word. The way he said it asked a million questions and said a million things, none of which Max, in all his frenzy, would ever understand.

Dorian took a single step forward before forcing himself to pause, considering the situation from a broader perspective. Would it do to simply walk towards the boy in his current state? The wild look in his eyes said more to Dorian than all his crazy rambling had. They told him plainly that he would do what needed to be done, consequences be damned. No. Max already believed him to be an enemy combatant that held a noose around his neck. He had never been much for diplomacy, but if there was ever a time to appraise his skill, this was it. Raising his hands in the universal show of surrender, wand pointed upward harmlessly between his right thumb and palm, Dorian smiled ingratiatingly despite his nerves that were now alight with hysterics. "Listen to me!" He mentally kicked himself and tried again. "Look... I understand how it might sound when I say it now, but none of this is real." He had no idea how convincing he was being, but if his wicked performance before that caused such a reaction was any testament, he must be convincing enough.

Dorian was inching closer with each word he spoke, trying to get closer without alarming Max. He wanted to be just close enough before he pounced. Holding eye contact and smiling softly, nervously, he continued. "Think about it. If I was really sent here to assassinate or kidnap you, would we really be in this position right now? A contractor wouldn't hire an amateur to do such an important job, and a professional wouldn't have allowed some kid to have the upper hand like you did when you had the business end of your wand aimed at me." Dorian wanted to appeal to Max's affinity for understanding basic common sense while simultaneously stroking his ego. From all he had gathered, Max's family was loaded. So was his, but they lived a quiet life that most rich snobs would sneer at. In Max's case, however, his seemed to be a family that was well known. They seemed the type to be in the limelight, which would be the only explanation as to why Max had such overwhelming notions that he would be kidnapped or killed.

No more than two feet separated them now, and Dorian thought to himself that it was either now or never. Steeling his resolve, he lunged after Max by springing off the ball of his right foot, closing the distance instantly in a show of athletic agility. He was thankful for his short, eleven years of life training and studying as Muggles did. Where Max had been busy being mentally scarred all his life, Dorian had been busy honing his physical skills. His mother's words came back to him. "Unbelievable! My son, a wizard of the Evaldeen heritage who stoops to learning the ways of Muggles! I'll be the standing joke among my friends. You spoil him, Rasmus! Let me..." She had frowned on his want and his father's enabling of him to study the ways of the Muggles. What need could a wizard have to ever get physical in a fight after all? Dorian had never stopped his lessons and was now thankful for them more than ever.

He first grabbed the boy's wand and attempted pulling it away in the same hand that he held his own, which was the right, then he quickly sidestepped around the boy until he was behind him. His left hand moved with urgency as it wrapped around the boy's midsection and held tightly. With his leg, he made a move so as to trip the boy so they would both fall to the ground with Dorian beneath, effectively cushioning whatever damage Max might take. His attempt was to wrestle the boy into submission and, ultimately, to get the danger of the wand away from him so he could put this entire charade to rest and explain everything. He knew he had taken this too far and was ready to ask for Max's forgiveness.

Hired hands were probably trained to the marrow to say a hundred things a hundred different ways, but if there was one word Max wouldn't expect to come from one it would be Dude. His brow furrowed slightly and he wondered if it was some sort of psychological mind game. He felt like he'd been so thoroughly outmaneuvered that he didn't know what to believe anymore, other than the fact that his threat had at least given this guy a pause. Would it be enough to save Aubren? He probably had no hope at this point of escaping himself, but if he could at least save her...

He tried not to swallow audibly when he saw the wand between Dorian's fingers; how close had he come to having a spell fired at him if he'd done anything other than turned his wand on himself? This... person - because it was possible the real Dorian Gray had been killed and someone had used Polyjuice Potion to look like him, so Max wasn't entirely sure if he was a child or not - was more dangerous than he'd originally thought. The blood rushing through his ears was so loud that he almost didn't catch the next words, but when he did he felt like laughing. That was the tactic? Dorian also still hadn't said anything about Aubren, so what if this whole thing was a diversion?

Max's eyes slid to the right again, his attention now split between behind him and in front of him. It was a terrible idea to be distracted, since he didn't notice how much closer Dorian was getting, but he was just one person against who knew how many. "Do I have the upper hand though?" Max asked quietly, eyes returning to the boy in front of him. There were a thousand more reasons for a hired hand to lie than tell the truth - what reason would Dorian have to lie in the first place? He had so many questions, and the panic that was threatening to close in on him wasn't helping his state of his mind as he dug his wand into his skin harder to keep himself grounded. "Amateurs can be hired to be bait. Should I expect a wand pressed against the back of my neck next when your associate gets here?"

Another paranoid half-glance towards the door, and with his vision distracted he only heard the slight scrape of a shoe to alert him to the fact that a move had been made. "Inc - " Max began as his eyes darted back, but it was too late. " - endio." The fire streaked uselessly out of his wand to scorch a short trail of orange in the sky above the tower, working well enough but impotent for what he'd wanted from it. His first thought was holy shit, I actually almost did it. His second was a much harsher word than shit.

Physical exertion had never been Max's strong suit. The extent of his self-defense tutelage was some mediocre fencing lessons that he'd never really picked up, and the only thing he did in the way of sports was chess. So, from moment one, he knew all hope of overcoming this situation had just been tabled, and the table had been thrown out a goddamn window into a sea of fire. Bargain, beg, threaten, cajole, trick, bribe... That was his arsenal, and if this guy was anything more than an amateur, none of them would work. If he was thinking clearly, he probably could've threatened to bite his tongue clean off because there was no defense against that. But he was still shell-shocked that he'd almost lit himself on fire, and the physical contact made him panic beyond reason.

"Let me go!" he shrieked, which was probably the most ineffective and generic thing a person could do in this situation. He struggled to do something with his wand, but Dorian's grip on it was too strong and he knew any more would not only serve to be wildly unproductive, but it would also be a waste of Aubren's time. Releasing his wand, he instead used both hands to try to pry Dorian's arm off of his midsection so he could get away. If Dorian wanted to keep his wand, fine, but he needed to get away, put space between them.

"You'd better hope they dig a deep hole when they kill me," he snarled, also wrestling with his own head to try to get his panic under control. "Because the only thing that's gonna separate me from putting you down is however much dirt they shovel on my grave."

The pain erupted from his hand, tamed only by the incredulity he felt at the reality that Max had actually just tried to burn himself. Just like that. The spell, interrupted from its original course only by Dorian's interjection, had not simply fired harmlessly into the air to dissipate into the ether. The fire had caught and singed his hand, enough to register the raging intensity of Max's determination to carry out his deed. The power of the spell was lethal, more than a simple ploy concocted to deceive. Dorian bit back the scream that threatened to escape his lips, doubling his effort to keep the boy restrained. This was no longer a joke, having gone far beyond the prank that he had first meant it to be. He should have known better than to play these games with someone he knew little to nothing about. Hearsay was never an accurate source of information, a lesson he was learning now the hard way.

They struggled a moment longer to gain control of the wand, Max finally relinquishing the thing from his grip and focusing his efforts on instead prying Dorian's hand from his waist. With both wands in his possession, Dorian did the only thing that came to mind, which was to toss them aside like so much refuse. The things skittered in a tangle across the floor and hit the far wall of the high tower. There they would remain where neither of them could do any harm. Dorian didn't know any spells anyway that would have helped him to restrain the boy short of knocking him out, and he didn't want to hurt him, not in the least. So disarming him and trying again at his lack of skill in diplomacy was his best bet. "I'll only let you go if you promise to relax and let me explain!" Still a failed attempt, but at least he was trying. Max's threat that followed sent an unfamiliar chill tiptoeing up his spine. With what he had seen of the boy's reaction and the way he unflinchingly cast that spell, he would believe the boy to be capable of just about anything.

At some point during the struggle, Max had grazed Dorian's burned right hand, causing a fresh wave of pain to shoot up his entire arm and numb all the feeling therein. The arm slackened from the loss of sensation, hurtling Dorian into a panic as he instinctively loosened the grip with his left arm around Max, allowing the counterforce that the boy exerted to serve its purpose of freeing him completely from the hold. Worrying his right arm by poking it in many different places with the left, he started to regain some feeling in it. One thing was certain though, he would have to get this burn treated before unforeseen complications presented themselves further along the line. But he would not move without first convincing Max that this had all been no more than an elaborate ruse to meet him. Foolish in retrospect, but elaborate nonetheless. The other boy would now be free, and Dorian would not make another attempt to grab him unless he felt he absolutely needed to. Their wands, as Max would now notice if he hadn't heard the sound of them rolling before, were nowhere in plain sight, having been tossed to the dark corners of the tower.

Holding his arms up again in surrender, just as before, he tried to ease the sudden turn of events. "Aubren is fine." Decidedly, the best course of action was to get back on track and veer away from all the talk of assassins and graves and the thought of the intense throbbing in his right hand. "She's most likely asleep in the girl's dorm or up reading some heavy book on boring stuff that no one cares about." His tone hinted at familiarity, a deeper understanding of the subject topic than a mere assassin would care to know or empathize with. "C'mon! Has she really said nothing about me? Not once? Maybe you've heard about me around school? 'Dorian Gray; he would never hurt a fly' or something like that." That last part was said by no one ever, what with him being a bully and all, but it was an attempt on his part to lighten the atmosphere that had transformed into something far darker than anticipated.

He smiled a smile that did not reach his eyes, the pain in his arm tolerable but painful. Pain was not a foreign concept to him. It had been something he was used to given his proclivities to get into physical altercations more often than not. Where the fire's intensity might have crippled a lesser child with no prior encounter with pain, Dorian remained standing and hid it from his expression as expertly as he could. He still had the use of his right hand, which was the best part, though to ball it into a fist or even to move it at all caused the pain to return tenfold. If he was to at some point need to retrieve his wand for use, he would have to do so with his left hand until proper medical treatment was sought.

Relax. Relax? Honestly, how dumb did this guy think he was? The only good thing that had come out of this struggle was that they were now both wand-less, which meant no killing spells or the like could be cast. On the other hand, Dorian probably had the advantage because he was a hell of a lot better at fighting with no wand than Max could ever dream of being. He struggled harder, and his efforts were surprisingly rewarded when the grip on him was loosened and he was able to escape. He rolled away, then scrambled back on his hands and heels so he could keep Dorian in sight the whole time. No pursuit. No more haphazard wrestling. Alright, maybe he could relax marginally; just enough to start using logic instead of animal-panic-stupidity.

His eyes immediately sought out weakness when Dorian raised his hands, zeroing in on the fact that it appeared his fiery spell hadn't gone completely to waste after all. That mark scorched into fair skin no doubt hurt like hell - he was a little impressed the other Gryffindor could keep it from his face, actually. So now he had two things going for him; he wasn't in anyone's grip, and the only one injured at the moment was his enemy. He stopped his ridiculous scramble and went still, drawing one knee up to his chest and casually setting his chin on it like nothing had happened.

Aubren was okay? Was it another trick? He realized belatedly that he actually hadn't bothered to check to see where she was - he hadn't seen her all day so he'd just assumed the letter had the details about her whereabouts. Without confirmation one way or the other, Dorian could technically be telling the truth. Max schooled his expression into one of unruffled blankness, deciding to reserve judgement for a brief moment.

"Aubren likes you, but I don't deal in subjectivity. People are too easy to manipulate." Even if he trusted Aubren as far as he could, he couldn't judge anyone based on her word alone. Dorian had either lied about threatening her or lied about not threatening her, and if Max couldn't tell which then the boy in front of him was too accomplished of a liar to pay much heed to people's feeling about him. Here's what he did know; despite being considered a bully by some, there was no doubt that Dorian had a sort of easy charisma. People around the school may have been annoyed at the trouble the kid caused, but there wasn't a feeling of unadulterated hatred towards him. He wasn't your typical 'flush a weak kid's heads down the toilet' kind of person. And, looking him in the eye after everything that had happened, he clearly wasn't an idiot.

Max's eyes briefly darted towards the inky pools of black where both of their wands lay, wondering how good of a duelist Dorian was. It was entirely possible that he was also the better dueler of the two of them, and there were a few duelers who were known to be ambidextrous so maybe the burn injury wouldn't impede this guy's spellcasting in the slightest. If Max went for the wands and they ended up in a battle, there was no guarantee that it would improve the situation. No, the only thing he could do was keep Dorian talking to figure out what the deal was with all of this.

"I've heard that you're a stupid brute," Max said bluntly, narrowing his eyes. "That's the surface of the stories, but you tend to come out on top. Anyone who pays attention can see that the 'stupid' part is as false as your smile." Despite himself, Max felt a twinge of sympathy regarding the burn. He'd once read that burning was the most excruciating way to die, and based on experience he'd believe it. Burns also had one of the highest infection rates - no skin meant no protection from infection. The thought of the skin blistering up with bubbles of pustules if that happened made him grimace, and for a moment he felt somewhat bad about it. Then again, the spell had been meant for his own face.

He tilted his head thoughtfully, studying Dorian with an expression that gave away nothing. "Tell me the truth, and if you don't, I'll know. Why'd you lie?"

Lisabetta had never broken curfew before, and honestly, she kind of like the thrill that went through her body as she broke the rules. She knew that her best friend, Elvira, would be so proud of her. She had been trying to get Lisabetta to be as big of a rule breaker as she was, Lisabetta's up bringing holding her back. Now that she was at Hogwarts, and not constantly under her parent's caring, but annoyingly watchful, eye, she was able to really branch out. She had been about to settle in for the evening when she saw Dorian Gray slip out from the common room. 

Lisabetta had smiled to herself as she followed him, getting very good at being stealthy. He hadn't figured out, yet, that she had been following him and pranking him over the past few weeks. She was impressed with herself, and, in doing so, she had been getting a lot better with her spell casting. Nothing like real life experiences to really get to practice a lot of new things. She had been waiting for an opportunity to try out something on him, been practicing on dummies, and then a friend to make sure it was perfect. 

She followed him up to the Astronomy Tower and waited in the shadows as someone else joined him. Of course, Dorian had done something to upset the other student, he was just on a roll with people. Lisabetta waited until she had a clear shot at Dorian before raising her wand at him. 

"Anteoculatia." She whispered the spell, not wanting either one to be able to hear her. She waited just long enough to see that her spell had worked, causing Dorian to grow large, funny looking antlers on his head. Lisabetta had chosen this spell because it was funny and easy to reverse, and not really dangerous if it was cast wrong. She quickly left, wishing she could stay to see his reaction, but not wanting to get caught. This was becoming a very entertaining part of her life here at Hogwarts, and she was not ready for it to end anytime soon. 

This boy Max had been damaged one too many times, which was probably the only explanation for his ardent distrust of people. He would rather believe the worst from a swiftly scribbled letter that hadn't much thought put into it. Not even the invocation of Aubren's name and welfare were enough to sway his conviction that Dorian was anything other than the antagonist in this scenario. It was a readily accepted consequence of his half-cocked actions, but he never felt he would be regretting everything so intensely. Max had such a scathing way with words that compelled one to listen to themselves being verbally castrated, an experience that Dorian could now boast first-hand knowledge of.

Every word that the other boy spoke chipped away at his self-possession, reducing it to a pile of rubble that magically turned into a pile of ash. His fake smile, the one that Max could so clearly see through like so much bullshit, slowly diminished and became a flat line as his lips pressed tightly together. It was rare of him to allow any person to insult, degrade, or otherwise come at his character the way Max was doing. The need for words would have long past and his fists would currently be doing the talking. That he held out as long as he had was a testament to his lack of desire to harm the boy. But he was making it so hard for Dorian to keep up his pretense, and it was all he could do to not step to Max right then and there and settle this the old-fashioned way.

But whatever self-control he tried to exercise proved a fruitless effort, his breathing becoming more shallow and his eyes forming into slits. The usual rush of adrenaline that was present whenever he knew he was about to engage flooded his system, and from this point forward there would be no turning back. He loured at Max with such venom, his scowl deepening to epic proportions. The time for talking was over, which meant Max's final question to him fell wasted on deaf ears. He had tried to talk the boy to his senses. He had tried to diffuse the situation before it had come to this. He had tried to reign in his anger countless times during the short encounter in favor of getting the boy to see reason. No more. If he wouldn't listen, then Dorian was more than ready and willing to give him a few hard whacks to the head to clear away whatever fog held his judgment captive.

With the chain of events unfolding, just as the look of unbridled menace disgraced his features, the antlers that grew from the spell cast on him would appear all the more intimidating. Dorian felt the change, knew that neither he nor Max had cast this spell, but was too far gone to give it a second thought, allowing this new occurrence to work in his favor. As far as Max would see, Dorian had self-transfigured the antlers onto himself without a wand, and, looking much like a raging bull poised for action, was about to charge. Dorian sprinted from the place he stood only feet away from Max. Position-wise stemming from the disconnect a moment ago, Max would have his back facing the edge of the tower, though he would be far enough away from the wall so as not to fall over the edge.

Eyes wild and action sure, Dorian would reach Max in two seconds flat, tackling the boy to the ground where he would, dare I say it? Punch him a couple of times in his pretty little face, one on each cheek for good measure. Should he manage to straddle him in such a way and carry out this show of brutality, he would press both hands to his neck, wrap his fingers tightly around the soft flesh, and squeeze. In the alternate event that Max was lithe enough to evade, Dorian would find himself stumbling forward, tripping over himself to decelerate and eventually come to a halt far too close to the edge of the tower. There would be no time wasted in wheeling on his heels and going in for round two. Whichever scenario proved more likely, he would continue simply with "I hope you've said your prayers, Avery!"