Stewing for a Fight | OPEN

Damian was angry.

He couldn't have stated a reason why, really. Everything made him angry. In fact, nothing made him angry. He was just angry.

The boy stalked back and forth. What he really needed was a good old fist fight. A group of those stupid muggles would really come in handy, right then. Three or four of them, in fact.

A door appeared and Damian jerked it open, stepping inside. The Room had arranged itself to look like the vacant lot around the corner from Damian's parent's house. Stepping further inside, the boy was about to the middle of the space when a training dummy rushed towards him. He ducked the swing aimed for his head, digging his elbow into the dummy's stomach. It felt similar to a bully's stomach.

Two more dummies appeared and Damian fell into the task of fending them off with the eased of one who'd too often had to defend himself. He fought fiercely. And he kept fighting. And fighting. And fighting until he had fairly exhausted himself.

And then a fourth dummy appeared.

Iva found herself running through the halls, unable to breathe. It was funny, how one little thing could change your life, like how a letter from your father could send your life into a tailspin.

Lord, she was mad. So incredibly mad. And incredibly lost. The halls and rdoors had all blurred into one and she couldn't find the way back. Of course, that just enraged her even more. She would give anything just to have a place to get these bottled emotions out. She'd even battle the headmaster at this point.

Then she saw the door. Something about it was different and hopeful, so she ripped open the door.

It was a vacant lot filled with battle dummies and Damian Gray.

"Well," She started cockily, but she didn't finish. It didn't really matter. "Well..."

Damian went down, but managed to take first one, then a second, dummy down with him. With a quick roll, he avoided a blow, but his exhaustion kept him from avoiding a kick from the other training dummy. Snatching his wand out of his pocket and pointed it at the inanimate training devices.

"Reducto!" he snapped out. As they blasted to bits, he lay back on the floor, clutching his stomach. "Should've... let you die... to begin with," he panted wearily.

The boy jerked around when he heard another's voice, only to relax again in disinterest. "Help yourself," Damian murmured, nodding to the two dummies that were still in one piece.

Iva stiffened at Damian's strange actions, punching and spelling mere dummies. Merlin's bread, what was this place? This couldn't be the fabled Room of Requirement everyone had talked about; it was probably just was old sparring room.

"Hmph," Iva nodded to Damian and walked to the dummy, shrugging off her robe to reveal her shorts and white t-shirt, which she commonly wore for comfort.

She looked at the doll, grimaced slightly in pity, then kicked it hard right where its face would be, seemingly catching it off guard.

Upon seeing this, or, at least she thought they saw, the other one began to rise again. A smirk spread across her face and her muscles tightened in remembrance of the mock fights with her brothers.

The dummy swung at her, and she dodged easily. Swinging for its stomach, Iva began to feel a little better.

Just a little.

Damian dragged his tired (and admittedly sore) body up into a sitting position, moving to lean against the wall and watch idly. She wasn't bad, for a girl - not that he'd concede as much aloud.

He let his head fall back against the wall and closed his eyes, cradling his right hand in his left. The knuckle at the end of his pinky was starting to swell, as Damian had allowed his anger to make him reckless, undoubtedly leading to his breaking it. Damian decided to stop by the hospital wing later - the physical pain had nothing on his grief and anger, after all.

For one in her life, Iva felt free. Despite the fact she was knocked to the ground and he eyes felt very extremely bruised, she felt alive. The punches, dirty kicks, and body throws all made sense to her, even if she was getting beaten up by some dummies.

She managed to knock over one doll and then, being overcome with pride, found herself being knocked over by an elbow to the back of the head from the other.

She fell face first into the ground and grumbled, "I am done, I am done," The dummy then fell over as well, its magical purpose taken care of. Iva rolled on to her back, breathing hard. Merlin's Beard, that was fun.

Damian cracked open an eye to glance at her, but otherwise didn't move. He gave her a moment to catch her breath.

"Feel better?" he asked.

Iva looked at the boy and smirked, chuckling. "Yes," she sighed, her S's slurring slightly with her bruised lip. "A little,"

She pushed herself up and streched, her back aching slightly as she picked up her robes. She was glad he didn't ask why she needed this work out, but if she didn't cover up these bruises, others would. Pulling a makeup compact out of her robe pocket, she started to cover her black eye.

"Are you better?" She asked, turning to the boy.

Damian shrugged a shoulder. "Not really," he answered, honestly. "Broke my hand, though." His tone might have suggested this was a positive thing. "Again." The boy rolled his left shoulder experimentally; sore, but it hadn't been displaced this time, at least.

"Isn't this room brilliant?" he asked conversationally. "This is just like the lot near my parents' house."

Iva looked around the room to the dark corners and walls. "This place is nice," She agreed, patting her swollen lip, "Very nice. I shall come here more often."

She snapped the compact closed and walked over to him. Kneeling down, she gestured at his hand. "Is it broken or badly jammed?" She asked, "If you hit hard enough, a jam is like a break because the joint gets screwed around,"

Iva touched his hand softly, then pulled back slowly. Sure, her germ stage was drawing to a close, but touching other humans was still gross. She sat silently, watching her hands begin to darken.

"This place..." She said quietly, "Reminds me of how life really is, yes?"

SHe looked around at the room. What she meant by this, even she didn't even know. But, it was true.

Damian held up his hand, the pinky side facing Iva. "It's a boxer's fracture," he replied. "Not the first time I had one. Probably not the last." He didn't comment on her withdrawing contact, remembering their altercation from the previous year.

"Yeah," Damian agreed, looking out over the perfectly copied lot. "It's dirty, and place where people come to get hurt." His blue eyes became overly bright for a second and he pulled his gaze away from the room to stare at his hand.

Iva nodded, then shrank back to the middle of the room, observing everything. The walls, the dirt, Damian's blue eyes. She sighed and kicked the dirt.

"You will..." She paused, then cleared her throat, "Tell anyone about this, correct?" Iva looked at herself, then at the room again.

If he did tell, she couldn't imagine people would listen, or care. Iva wasn't a hot topic at school and most people didn't even know of her existance. Heck, her own father forgot she existed sometimes.

She wrapped her arms around herself, as if she was cold. "I..." She said quietly, "I really needed that,"

"I won't tell anyone," Damian murmured quietly. He shrugged. "Sometimes, you just hafta hit something... and be hit. I do, anyway."

His blue eyes studied her solemnly. "You alright?" he asked. He didn't exactly expect her to answer - not thoroughly, in any case. She seemed a bit distressed, though. The least he could do was ask if she was alright. Furthermore, it gave him something to think about apart from how not alright he was himself.

Iva nodded in agreement, her eyes never quite reaching his. When he asked if she was alright, she twirled her hair in thought as if trying to think of a response.

"No," She replied at last, almost as if this was a revelation, not a confession. "I am not alright."

She finally looked at him straight now, a cold ice in her eyes. Her arms crossed and her jaw set, somehow she looked taller than usual.

"But, you do not really care about my problems, yes? You asked that to be polite,"

"Like you would even tell me if I did care," Damian scoffed. "No, I don't, alright? I don't really care about anyone, just now. You'll have to excuse for being a bit 'self-absorbed'.

"At least I asked," he muttered quietly. Leaning his head back again, he shut his eyes, once more.

Iva walked to the other side of the room and sat across from Damian. She pulled her legs into her chest and rested her head on top. She shouldn't have snapped at him, she knew, but she couldn't help it.

"Thank you," She mumbled, peeking over her knees. "For asking. It was nice,"

Damian opened his eyes and gazed at her dully. "You're welcome," he murmured back. He allowed his eyes to drift upward to a spot on the wall.

"I'm not alright, either," he said. "Don't think I'll ever be alright. And everyone who's read the papers knows why." Blue eyes brimmed with tears that refused to fall.

Iva nodded slowly, keeping her eyes on his form. "War spares no one," She mumbled, recalling the old saying. She interlocked her fingers with themselves, nodding to herself as if she was scared to go on.

"Maybe," She started, " Maybe... no one is ever alright. Maybe we are just trying to live through the pain."

Iva bunched up her shoulders, the bliss from the fight wearing off. "I am sorry, you know. For everything."

For the fight, the mean words, the nasty looks, and whatever atrocity had forsaken him. Looking back, maybe it was karma that her mother had died. Iva had been so nasty- something nasty had to happen to her too.

"So sorry,"

Damian shook his head, throat and chest constricting painfully. "Not your fault," he rasped. "S'mine.

"Y'know... he was my best friend. The muggle wh-who killed Theo." He had to stop to suck in a shaky breath, gaze still fixed on the wall. "Year b'fore I came here, we were on the roof of our old school - just messing about. Bryce... tripped, can't even remember how, but he fell."

Damian's left hand clamped down on the injury to his right, as though the pain was necessary to give him some sort of grounding. "My magic saved him," he gritted out. "I knew how muggles were - I always knew. Th-Theo never hid it from me. Wouldn't've been safe. So, I always hid that I had magic... until Bryce fell from the roof.

"I didn't even mean to save him - I just didn't want him to die. Would've been better if he had," Damian declared bitterly. "If I hadn't have saved him..." He bit back a sob, releasing his right hand to scrub away the tears that started to track down his face.

Against her true nature, Iva had stood up and walked over to the boy. She paused for a moment, considering what she was about to do, then fell to her knees in front of him, capturing him in a large hug.

At this moment, it didn't really matter whether germs and dirt were going to kill her. Sometimes, others were more important.

"It is alright to cry, Damian," She whispered, patting his back. Iva struggled to find the right words to say to him- the right comfort for him.

"It was a beautiful thing to save him," She settled on, "Your sister must have been proud. No- she is still proud. I bet she is watching you now- proud of you."

Damian was surprised when the girl hugged him, but didn't try to pull away. "All I do is cry!" he declared with a humorless laugh.

"I got her killed. I let a muggle find out about my magic, then she had to save me. How can she be proud of that?"

Iva pulled away and patted Damian's head as if he was a young child, not a young adult. Tears had filled her own eyes, mostly because his crying had triggered hers, but also because she could feel what he felt.

"She would be proud of how nice you are," She declared, "And that you are smart, and daring, and a good Hufflepuff, and... because you are Damian Grey! How could she not be proud of that?"

Iva forced a laugh that cracked terribly. "I would love to be like you one day, you know."

Damian gave a rather wan smile, scrubbing his good hand across his face once more. "Yeah," he murmured, managing a trace of wryness. "Damian Gray - the greatest wizard ever born.

"What?" the boy gave a startled laugh. "Why'd you want to be like me?"

Iva nodded slowly, rubbing her own eyes. Darn, she had started to cry herself. Tears ran down her cheeks, staining her T-shirt.

"You- you are so hard on yourself," She murmured, "Everyone likes you. You are nice and friendly. Powerful too, if the rumour are correct,"

Iva suddenly realized how close they where and leaned back, embarassed by her tears. She wiped them quickly, hoping he didn't notice.

"Not everyone," the boy pointed out. He sighed. "And I'm not all that powerful. Not right now, anyway." He dug out his wand and murmured lumos, the spell barely producing a spark of light before fizzing out again.

"I damaged my magical core," he explained. "It's still replenishing itself. That reducto used up all the magic I can manage for the next day or so." Damian wrinkled his nose. "It sucks."

He had noticed the girl's tears, but made no comment.