dysonrules | Twinsensibility Part Thirty Six (Reply)

Look, it's still Twinsday! WOOOT! Many glomps to

byaghro for the fast beta!

Lorcan sat in the library, hunched over a book, but his attention was on the doors. It annoyed him to no end that his concentration was shot. Every time someone walked in, his heart would leap into his throat, half-hoping the new entrant would be Maribeth, and half-despising himself for the wish.

He was beginning to feel quite mad.

Lily gave him a poke in the ribs and he turned a baleful glare on her. Honestly, he appreciated that she was trying to help (even though she had marred lovely Maribeth’s face—and why the fuck did he care about that, anyway?), but she was a right pain in the arse and if she had been a bloke Lorcan would have hexed her senseless by now.

“You aren’t planning anything crazy, are you?” Lily asked. “You have this really weird look in your eye.”

“That look is called ‘irritation’ and will lead to me giving you a physical smack if you poke me one more time,” Lorcan said through slightly clenched teeth.

“It looked more like ‘lost puppy,’” Abby mumbled from her usual perch at Lily’s side. The black-haired girl was currently defacing the library tabletop with fingernail varnish, darting a look at Madam Pince every so often.

Lorcan sneered at her. Replying to Abby Parkinson was typically a waste of time, since Lily usually spoke for her, anyway.

“Why are you here?” Lorcan asked tiredly.

“Lysander asked us to keep an eye on you. To make sure you don’t do anything crazy,” Lily replied.

“Like ask Maribeth to marry you,” Abby added, drawing what looked like a deformed cat face with the glittery green paint.

Lorcan shut his eyes for a moment, wrestling down an inner voice that thought it would be an amazingly good idea to rush off and do that very thing.

“Shut up, Parkinson,” he said to cover the horrifying vision.

“We’re only trying to help,” Abby muttered. She also said something that could have been “Ungrateful prick”, but Lorcan chose to ignore that.

“I am not going to do anything crazy,” Lorcan stated. “Now will the two of you please leave?”

“Too late,” Lily said, eyes on the doorway.

Lorcan turned his attention toward that direction and gaped when he saw Maribeth Coventry marching toward him, looking like a vision of beauty (or a deranged succubus). She ignored Lorcan completely, even though he got to his feet in case she needed a seat. He would give up his in an instant.

“You!” Maribeth hissed and pointed a delicate finger (talon) at Lily Potter. “You did this to me!”

It distressed Lorcan to see his darling so worked up. He rounded the table and put a hand on her lovely shoulder. “Maribeth, dearest,” he purred.

She rounded on him. “Don’t you touch me!” she shrieked. “Even though I dosed you with a love potion and spied on you with my crystal ball!”

“Miss Coventry!” Madam Pince’s voice sounded shocked and Maribeth clapped a hand over her mouth. Even Lorcan had to admit she didn’t look very pretty with her eyes rolling wildly, jerking from Madam Pince to Lorcan and back again.

Madam Pince’s lips thinned. “You will accompany me to the Headmistress this instant, Miss Coventry.” Her gaze softened as it moved to him. “Lorcan, you should probably come along.”

Lorcan shook his head. “I’m waiting for my brother.”

Madam Pince nodded. “Very well. Headmistress McGonagall will most likely send for you, later. Come along, Miss Coventry.”

Maribeth looked so miserable that Lorcan took a single step toward her, hand outstretched, but she shrank away.

“Stay away from me, you… you… you…!” Her face twisted when she was unable to spit out the words she sought.

Lily laughed out loud and Lorcan frowned at her, wanting to defend Maribeth and wounded to the quick by her rejection. He felt nauseous.

Maribeth spun and marched out the door, followed by Madam Pince. Lorcan took another step, half-inclined to follow them. A blond head caught his attention as a boy sidestepped the exiting angry girl and Lorcan’s heart lurched again.

Lysander.

Lorcan hurried forward without thinking and enveloped his brother in a hard embrace. Lysander held him tightly and stroked his hair for a moment, murmuring soft words into his ear that made no sense, but soothed Lorcan’s frazzled senses like a balm.

At last he pulled away and Lysander smiled at him. “Lor! Guess what came from Albus, today?” He slipped a hand into his robes and withdrew a purplish-coloured vial. “The antidote.”

Lorcan kissed him.