"Don't you think it will be a little bit suspicious, if we're spotted spending the whole day together?" Sherlock pointed out. Victor just shrugged, kicking his feet once more.
"I'll take my chances. Honestly, I'm not worried; you should be the one that's worried about what other people are capable of finding out." Victor decided.
"We're both in the wrong here, you'll get locked up for blackmail, I'll get fired for having an affair with a student, honestly I'd rather have to find a new job then have to fight the dementors." Sherlock decided. Victor just laughed once more, as if the idea of getting locked up amused him.
"Oh no, no Sherlock, see this story will be very different when Dumbledore hears it, because it's the quidditch star, top of the class, Head Boy candidate against the lonely outcast professor who couldn't seem to keep his lips to himself. And how could I ever say no to a professor, someone who could fail my every class, how could I possibly stand up for myself when he was forcing me day in and day out to pretend to love him?" Victor sighed, putting a hand to his forehead as if he were starring in a dramatic romance movie. Sherlock growled a little bit, but couldn't bring himself to retaliate against him; for fear that once again the story would leak out.
"What if I told someone beforehand, someone who wouldn't go to Dumbledore, someone who could help?" Sherlock asked.
"Who, Mr. Watson, in all his squib glory? What's he going to do, threaten me with his mop?" Victor laughed.
"Well, no I was thinking, more...McGonagall...?" Sherlock muttered. Obviously his first had been John, but Victor was right, what could John possibly do to help him?
"McGonagall's a good woman, she'd tell Dumbledore, she'd discover your faults, she's not your friend Sherlock, you don't have friends, not anymore." Victor assured. "All you've got is me."
"You're a monster." Sherlock insisted.
"Yes, but what can you possibly do about that?" Victor purred, brushing his finger about Sherlock's cheek ever so lightly.
"Get away from me." Sherlock snapped, about to slap his hand away, but Victor just shook his head ever so slightly, and Sherlock's hand stopped in midair.
"I like your skin Sherlock, it's so smooth, it's so delicate. I feel like I could just...peel it away from your face like wrapping paper." Victor decided. Sherlock clenched his fists, hating to be touched by this disgusting boy, but Victor was right, there was nothing he could possibly do right now.
"Then I could see what's really inside you, I could see what makes you tick..." Victor's hand stopped and jabbed Sherlock rather forcefully in the cheek, making him jump back a little bit. Victor just laughed, finally taking his hand away and leaning forward on the desk.
"Oh come on Sherlock, you know what to do now." Victor insisted. Sherlock stared blankly at his face, which was now very close.
"Stick my wand in your eye?" Sherlock suggested. Victor frowned ever so slightly, but his smile returned so quickly that Sherlock doubted his eyesight.
"No Sherlock, kiss me, we went over this last evening." Victor insisted.
"I need to go to the Great Hall, I need to eat." Sherlock decided.
"Well, you need permission to go eat, and I'm still not satisfied with my service." Victor decided. Sherlock stood up, scowling down at Victor. Obviously the Slytherin wasn't going to give up so easily, because he slid off the desk and stood very close to Sherlock, putting his hands on both of Sherlock's shoulders and holding his face so close that Sherlock could make out every vein in his eye, if he could stand staring at those cold eyes for that long.
"If you want to kiss me so bad, why don't you just do it yourself?" Sherlock snapped.
"Because I like it better when you kiss me, I like it better because it tells me how much you love me." Victor decided.
"Victor, I despise you." Sherlock insisted. Victor's hands tightened around Sherlock's shoulders, and he winced in pain.
"No, Sherlock, once more you said the wrong thing. You love me." Victor pointed out, his grip tightening, his fingers digging under Sherlock's bones. The poor professor writhed in pain, nearly crying out if he wasn't so scared of who might hear.
"I love you, I do, I love you Victor." Sherlock managed between forced breaths. Victor sighed with relief, loosening his grip and smiling up at Sherlock once more.
"See, that wasn't so hard." He decided. Sherlock clenched his teeth in disgust, but to avoid any more injuries he bent down and kissed Victor very quickly on the lips, just to make sure that he could go and eat lunch for the reminder of the lunch period.
"You may go." Victor decided.
"Thank you." Sherlock snapped, stepping very quickly away from Victor and storming out of the room.
The next day, Sherlock woke up very early; having skipped dinner the previous night his stomach felt like it was starting to digest itself. So, in an attempt to avoid Victor as long as he could before Hogsmeade, Sherlock rushed down to the Great Hall at six o'clock, his robes pulled hastily on and his hair still slightly messy. Sherlock was hoping to see John somewhere, possibly wandering the halls or sitting alone at the staff table, but alas, Sherlock was very surprised to see that he was the only one in the entire Great Hall. Maybe this was a good thing, at least he didn't have to be modest about how much he ate, and he wouldn't have Snape scowling down at him every time he asked him to pass the bacon. Sherlock feasted, doubting he'd have much of an appetite when he was in Victor's presence, so he ate pancakes, bacon, eggs, toast, hash browns, and fruit, plus a good three goblets of pumpkin juice. When he was just about done, some very tired looking Gryffindors, quidditch players by the looks of them, wandered into the Great Hall for some pre practice breakfast, looking very miserable indeed as they stared sleepily into their oatmeal. Sherlock envied them, yes maybe they had to go work out and get up early, but at least they had their own free will. Sherlock felt like he was a puppet, and Victor was dragging him around on strings, every move he made was wrong, and it had to be adjusted so that he was a doll dancing in the air. It disgusted him. Sherlock was in his bedroom when Victor showed up, reading a book at his desk on redcaps, the next creatures that the younger kids would be studying. Billy was hooting in his cage, pecking at some owl treats that Sherlock had poked through the bars of his cage.
"Hello Sherlock." Victor said with a smile. Sherlock did a sort of double take, expecting to see Victor in his robes. However he was looking very preppy in a Slytherin sweater vest with a green and silver tie and a white button down shirt.
"You look...rather muggle." Sherlock decided, shutting the book and getting to his feet.
"You like it? My mother always said I look dashing in a sweater vest, she always said that all the girls must be swooning over me. Then again, I dressed up for you Sherlock, not some pathetic female." Victor said with a smile.
"Your mother doesn't know you're gay?" Sherlock asked.
"Does yours?" Victor asked.
"I didn't even know. I just thought I was, well, me." Sherlock admitted. Victor wandered over to Billy's cage, trying to stroke the owl between the bars with his long fingers.
"No, Mother believes in pure families, pure blood, happy, normal, heterosexual lives with magical children. She wouldn't want to know how attracted I am to beautiful men." Victor decided. Billy squawked impatiently, nipping at Victor's fingers with annoyance and making the boy pull his hand away in fear. Sherlock smiled approvingly, nodding to his bird like a proud parent.
"Well, I'm sure there are loads of other men out there that would love to be with you." Sherlock decided.
"Yes Sherlock, I know, and there is one I'm sure would love to be with you. But we're with each other, whether you like it or not and there is no escaping the connection the two of us have." Victor insisted.
"You think we have a connection?" Sherlock asked with a laugh, and Victor just glared at him out of the corner of his eye. "I mean, sorry, of course, our 'connection'." Sherlock agreed hastily, looking out the window at the students all walking down to the village.
"We should get going then, lots to do." Victor decided.
"What do you need to do?" Sherlock asked.
"Oh, I suppose I'll find out when I get there." Victor shrugged. Sherlock nodded in agreement, hoping that he could somehow give Victor the slip, pretending to be ill or something like that. But he followed him out the classroom door, grabbing his cloak and stuffing his wand in his pocket, fighting the urge to stun that stupid boy where he stood. The walk down to Hogsmeade was silent, thankfully. Sherlock had his hands clenched in his pockets so as to prevent Victor from holding them, and it seemed to be working. Victor was smiling a little bit as they walked down the path, as if still not able to believe how lucky he had it right now, pretending that Sherlock's forced love confessions actually meant something. Sherlock was scanning the crowd for John, hopeful that the caretaker would show up and tag along with them, so that he actually had someone he liked hanging around. An entire day tied to some totalitarian didn't really sound like Sherlock's idea of a good time. When they got down to the village it was buzzing with people, mostly Hogwarts students milling around, some already carrying shopping bags of bottles of butterbeer. Thankfully it wasn't too cold out, and they didn't have to stomp around through the snow, which was usually how the Hogsmeade visits were. There weren't many townspeople milling around, which was hardly a surprise considering they would rather die than wait in the line at Honeydukes' that was just about out the door. No, when the students were here all the locals stayed indoors, probably scared to get pick pocketed or something like that.
"So, where would you like to go first?" Victor asked.
"Back to the castle." Sherlock muttered. Thankfully Victor was too distracted by the quidditch supply store that he hadn't heard Sherlock's comment.
"That's a really nice broom." Victor decided, looking at sleek black broom in the window.
"Maybe you could write to mommy and daddy and they'll buy it for you." Sherlock decided.
"Are you saying I'm rich?" victor asked with a smile.
"Are you?" Sherlock asked.
"Yes." Victor agreed.
"There you have it then." Sherlock sighed.
"I get everything I want." Victor added with a smile. Sherlock rolled his eyes and took a minuscule step away from the boy.
"Obviously." Sherlock sighed. Victor just smiled, the light wind ruffling his hair as he gazed into the window.
"Let's go in." he decided, pulling open the door and walking inside. The shop was called Spintwitches, according to the peeling golden letters hanging above the door. It was a sports shop, primarily selling quidditch supplies since that seemed to be the only sport wizards were interested in, but there were also some muggle sports tucked away in the back corner, like a deflated football and some other things Sherlock was sure John could name. He looked over at Victor, who was examining a nice pair of leather gloves, and grabbed the football off of the counter, for a little gift for John to get him in a better mood. So while Victor was distracted, Sherlock paid a couple of sickles for the ball and took the bag with a smile, hoping to see John smile when he next saw him.
"What do you think about this?" Victor asked, turning to show Sherlock a leather helmet on his head.
"What's that for, containing your ego?" Sherlock asked with a frown. Victor glared, but since the store was populated with several students, all he could do was scowl.
"It's so that I don't get a concussion from a bludger." He pointed out.
"Oh, I think you need one of those." Sherlock insisted.
"The helmet?" Victor asked hopefully.
"No, a concussion." Sherlock suggested. Victor took the helmet off and threw it moodily onto the shelves, his hair sticking up at odd places.
"What did you buy?" he asked.
"Oh, some cleaning supplies for my broom, considering it's a bit of a wreck." Sherlock lied, holding the back a little bit behind him so Victor couldn't see it.
"I've got cleaning supplies if you really..." he started, but Sherlock just ignored him, starting his way out of the shop and back onto the cobblestone streets of the town.
"I wonder if Mr. Watson is here." Victor decided.
"I hope so." Sherlock agreed.
"I don't like you hanging out with him you know, he's got eyes for you." Victor pointed out.
"No he doesn't, he's just lonely." Sherlock insisted.
"Lonely and in need of a boyfriend." Victor pointed out.
"Sounds like someone I know." Sherlock agreed.
"Moody today, are we?" Victor asked.
"Well, I can't imagine why." Sherlock snapped.
"Be nice Sherlock, you will regret it." Victor hissed, so that the students passing them didn't hear. Sherlock just rolled his eyes, resisting the temptation to slap Victor in the back of the head with his shopping bag.
"I could use a new quill, your eagle feather one is so beautiful, makes mine look rather dull." Victor decided, drifting along to the Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop. Sherlock sighed, but followed along, walking into the dingy, lonely looking store and browsing the shelves while Victor strokes many feather quills, as if trying to decide which one felt nicer and most expensive. Sherlock was just staring blankly at a parchment thickness display when Victor joined him once again, a little paper bag on his arm.
"Which one did you get?" Sherlock asked lazily as they left the shop.
"Golden eagle, it's very nice." Victor said proudly. Sherlock wanted to go to Honeydukes, even though Victor insisted there would be too many people in there. It wasn't like he wanted candy, but Sherlock knew that through the crowd he might get a little bit of time away from Victor, maybe even catch his favorite caretaker wandering around the rows and sweets. As promised, the store was swimming with Hogwarts students, all ages (third years and up, of course, the two younger grades weren't trusted to wander around the town by themselves) from all houses, scooping candies into bags and sampling Bertie Bot's beans from a quickly empting bowl near the register.
"It's packed in here." Victor moaned, elbowing his way through the crowd. Sherlock didn't respond, hoping that maybe he could blend in with the crowd and sneak off, insisting that he had thought Victor had left beforehand. He wandered around the aisles of candy, looking at all sorts of very odd creations, like Fizzing Whizbees, Cockroach Clusters, and Blood Lollypops, which would've been pretty funny to bring along for his lesson on Vampires. Through there was only one thing Sherlock was really looking for, and as he made his way through the crowd it was more and more apparent that it wasn't there. The store was completely deprived of John Watson, which was a real shame, although Sherlock honestly had no idea what the caretaker might want with in this shop. Maybe he was at the Three Broomsticks, or maybe he just hadn't come down at all, waiting for his trip down with Sherlock the following weekend. Unfortunately though, if Victor still had control over the entirety of Sherlock's life, he couldn't see how that could possibly happen.
"Let's get out of here Sherlock." Victor decided.
"No, I'm not done." Sherlock insisted. Victor locked his jaw, giving Sherlock a very icy stare.
"I said, we're leaving." Victor demanded, grabbing Sherlock's arm rather roughly and dragging him nearer to the exit. Sherlock shook him off but had no choice but to follow. He didn't know what Victor was willing to do in a crowd of people, but he knew that it would be a very unfortunate place for Victor to get creative with his methods of blackmail.
"I know what you're doing you know?" Victor asked.
"What, I'm not doing anything." Sherlock insisted.
"You're trying to pull me to the most public areas, so that you can have a little bit of freedom. You don't think I'm willing to yell your little secret in front of a crowd? Or scream for help while in the midst of the Three Broomsticks?" Victor asked.
"What could you possibly need help for?" Sherlock snapped.
"Help, he's forcing me to spend the day with him, help I'm being held against my will, help he's threatening me, the possibilities are endless." Victor shrugged.
"Ironically those are all the things you're doing with me." Sherlock snapped.
"Funny how that works isn't it?" Victor agreed with a smile.
"No, it's not funny, it's sick." Sherlock decided.
"Oh Sherlock, you have best just get used to it." Victor sighed.
"I'm never going to get used to it, you're a disgusting person." Sherlock insisted.
"How about a drink at the Three Broomsticks?" Victor suggested.
"I thought you didn't like crowded places." Sherlock pointed out.
"For a butterbeer, it's worth it." Victor decided. Sherlock just sighed, but nodded. John might just be sitting at a table as well, maybe he'd even come join the two of them. So Sherlock followed him through the streets, over to the pub on the corner, where the line of students was almost stretching out the door.