You're Gonna GO Far, Kid::Rhys!

[brookee]

Midnight on a Saturday night, the majoirty of the castle was fast asleep. That is, minus a certain student named Brooke Lynn Alexandra. In fact, she had slept most of the day away to be awake for the night. Now, she stood in front of a full body mirror, observing herself and her outfit. A red mini skirt, a short black tank top that revealed her red rose navel piercing, accompanied with a black cross given to her from her brother on her sixteenth birthday to ward of danger. Finally, the young Gryffindor reached over to her night table and slipped onto her finger a new edition to her jewerly family. A silver ring with the word love being spelled out of the metal. She wasn't sure who had given it to her or why, but she had found it on her bed, with no note or signal of who sent it to her. Normally, she wouldn't have worn it, but she figured it completed her outfit.

With a satisfied smile, the girl made her way out of the Common Room silently, and made her way quickly down the spiral staircase and out onto the grounds of Hogwarts. Due to the fact that Brooke had been sneaking out after curfew to go to the new Seven Sins Nightclub since the beginning of the year, she knew exactly how to move across the grounds so that, not only was she quick, but she didn't get caught by any prefects. At long last, bella escaped the iron gates that were the barriers of the grounds of Hogwarts. Smiling from ear to ear, the young girl made her way to Knockturn Alley, waving to the few faces that knew exactly who she was, and ignored the stares she got from just about everyone else.

One thing Brooke was never worried about was the way she looked to others. When she was born, her hair was blonde, and to this day, pure veela blood ran through her veins. When she was a bit older, before she came to Hogwarts, she asked her brother to charm her hair, so that it would permanantly stay red, siply because she didn't like the way the blond looked in her hair. Now, her hair is still curly and red, and her skin is as white as winter snow. She knew that to most, if not all, men thought she was supermodel gorgeous. It was clear on all of their faces as Brooke walked into the club that at least half of them would try to get her by the end of the night. Just like as soon as she walked in, she knew that just about everyone there wasn't worth her time or energy. But that wouldn't stop her from having a good time.

Brooke Lynn made her way to the bar and smiled sweetly at the man behind the counter. "Can I get a Firewhiskey?" she asked sweetly. He simply stared at her until she cocked an eyebrow and he want to get her drink. She turned around and let her eyes scan the area around her. A bit too hetic for being this sober. She smiled and payed the man when he ame back with her drink, and she took a swing of it. All she needed to do was find someone who was worth talking to, and looked to the door, waiting for someone else to come into the club. Tonight would be a good night for the Gryffindor.

W O R D S;; alot!
T A G;; Rhys!
N O T E S;; outfit! sorry it kinda sucks
C R E D I T;; hey it's SHMEY! @ caution 2.0

[yumi8]

Saturday. The golden, glorious day which Rhys usually chose as his ‘Party Night,’ where he could get as wasted as he wanted and on Sunday, probably sleeping in the entire day, and be fine for Monday school. Sure, he could’ve had the exact same routine for Friday, but then, he’d sleep in major on Saturday and have to deal with Sunday. Sunday was the day he hated. There was no point in it, the treturous day before school when he wasn’t able to party, and when there was nothing to do expcept study. Studying, the quailty in which Rhys lacked. Even his professors thought so.
“Rhys is a bright boy. He has real potential in the magic field but neglects taking his learning further by studying. He does his own type of studying: Girls and drink. Rhys could be a brilliant sorcerer if he studies for once.” One of his own teachers wrote and owled that to one of his uncles. His uncle was not happy. He exploded on about how he was like his father. His retarded, bastard of a father who was like him, Rhys was sad to know, a manwhore. He had cheated on his wife, his own wife, Rhys's mother, staying out all hours of the night, seducing women while his mother waited at home, taking care of their toddler. Rhys resented him, and everything he'd modelled himself up like. Oh, yes, modelled him. Everything Rhys did was down to his father. He used rough words, laughed at others, was a manwhore, was arrogant, self centetred and conceited, all because of the hurt that lay inside him. He needed this ... this mask to hide his true interior. Everyone else - His girlfriend Alex, the trilions of girls he'd been out with and dumped shortly thereafter, his friends of both genders - they were all used to this Rhys. The annoying, arogant, eccentric one. He was always able to smack on an irritating smirk and drive people around the bend. This was normal Rhys behaviour. He himself had grown accostomed to acting the way he did. So he never made any effort to stop it, nor did he ever wish the real Rhys could take over for once. It would just make him depressed, he knew. He couldn't put himself thorugh that. Even though he probably deserved it.
Sneaking out of Hogwarts was easy. Once you'd done it once, it was pretty simple the next hundred times. He was pretty sure once, he'd seen a figure slip out of the gates before him. Even if there was, Rhys wasn't scared. What was there to be scared of? He was a Seventh year with a wand in his pocket. Easy to win.
The first thing he did that night when he left the gates behind was walk and revelled in his freedom for the night. When he reached Hogsmaede, however, he had hit a snag in his night. He wasn't sure where to go. There was no party in Hogsmaede that night. A different night than usual. Where to go?
Seven Sins Nightclub.
Rhys had never been there alone. He was not nervous but did not envy anyone in the same situation as him: Going into Knockturn Alley alone. The bad place. With Death Eaters. Whatever, he'd have to improve his demeanor. He took on a haughty stride which fitted well with his face, which held an expression that made it clear not to mess with him. When he reached the building, he relaxed his face into his usual smirk, yet his long stride stayed. He could feel a lot of girls' staring into his back as the heavy pumping of the music rattled on. He glanced around and spied one girl in particular, his smirk vanishing and in place, a face of annoyance resided instead. Brooke Lynn Alexandra was somewhat of an enemy of his, though he wouldn't call it that totally. Sometimes, he annoyed her, infuriated her, and just when he thought he had the upper hand, the roles reversed and she did instead. He walked away, sitting at a chair at the bar 3 seats away from her. He then ordered a Firewhiskey and continued to ignore her presence.

Sorry for the wait. and I LOVELOVELOVE paramore.

[brookee]

By the time Brooke had felt someone's presence close to her, she was already on her third drink. Not that she cared, the more tipsy the better. It was just a bit strange to the young Gryffindor girl that there weren't that many young men there. They were all older, much older in that case, and it was weird to see them look at her. They were all old enough to be her dad, or uncle even, and it grossed her out. She kept her attention on the door, even though just about every person that walked through was either a girl, or too old, or gay. Finally, she saw someone who caught her eye. He was young, sexy, and...oh no. It was Rhys Zayden, one of the many Slytherins that she hated with a burning passion of hatred. Although there were days where, he didn't bug her all that much. In fact, there were some days where she wished they could get along a little better so they could maybe be friends. Although she highly doubted he would ever agree to that.

After realizing who he was, she turned in her chair at the bar and took another swing of her drink. She felt a pair of eyes on her back and had a feeling that it was Rhys', assuming he had just noticed her. When she glanced down the rows of chairs, she saw that he was ignoring her presence and she looked in the other direction, away from him. It then dawned on her, if Rhys wasn't the one looking at her, then who was? Looking around the bar area, as well as the wall away from Rhys, she saw an older man, drink in hand, looking her up and down.Well, that's not weird. She thought sarcastically to herself. The moment their eyes met, even though it only lasted a split second, she saw a smirk form on his face. Shivering slightly at his creepiness, she ran her pinky around the rim of her drink, debating what to do.

Not even ten seconds later, Mr. Creepy walked over to her and sat in the seat next to her. She wasn't going to lie, she was glad he didn't sit in the three seats separating her from Rhys. He ordered two drinks, took one and placed one in front of her. Brooke cocked an eyebrow and looked over at him. "Hey, wanna dance?" the guy asked, his face only inches from hers. His breath smelled like a mixture of smoke and alcohol, and his words came out in a slur. She turned her head slightly in the other direction, more towards Rhys, and held her breath, shaking her head no. She tried to scoot away from him, but he followed her in her movement, running his hand up her arm. "Comeonnnnnn, jus'onedance." he said, his words morphing together. She shrugged her hand off of her and said, "I said no." going to stand up.

It wasn't as if many people noticed the scene of a girl and a guy arguing, just like it didn't help that they were towards the back of the bar. The closest person to Brooke was Rhys, and he was doing a pretty damn good job of ignoring her. Once she stood up, the drunk man did too, and this time, he grabbed her arm tightly. Holy damn! For a drunk guy, he had a pretty strong grip, as well as a hand big enough to wrap all the way around her upper arm. She looked up at him in shock, he had to be at least five foot nine and even though he was built, she knew he was far to drunk to hold his own against another man. Her maybe, but not another guy.

She felt around her pocket for her wand. Oh, thats right, it was normally in her sock. Now, it was in the waistband of her skirt. There was no way she would be able to reach it without him grabbing her other arm first. With her face inches from his, she held her breath as he whispered, "Wanna rethink you're answer girlie?" his breath washing over her face.

W O R D S;; alot!
T A G;; Rhys!
N O T E S;; outfit! suckish, but still good.
C R E D I T;; hey it's SHMEY! @ caution 2.0

[yumi8]

* --- C O N FU S I O N G I R L N E V E R

[/font]
GIVES OR TAKES ~[/center][/font]

He felt embarresed. He couldn't help it. He wished Brooke wasn't here. She certainly wasn't a friend, and he got the feeling she loathed him to high heaven. Rhys was aware of the fact sometimes he acted like he hated her too - but that wasn't intended. If she had liked him a little more, they could've been friends. Thinking about it, however, even if Brooke asked him to be friends, he wouldn't accept it. It would be the type of friendship that was awkward, with thier history.
Whilst drinking smoothly, he kept glancing over at Brooke. He could do it subtely, he spent enough times doing it already to check out girls. The girls would never notice, and neither would Brooke. Luckily, she didn't seem to. Infact, she was staring across the room, at something, probably someone else. He resisted looking at who she was looking at, not wanting to seem jealous. He'd nothing to be jealous of, he wasn't her boyfriend. Then why did he feel that way? He was ashamed to admit he didn't have a clue of why. Prehaps he did want to be her friend. Oh, who was he kidding? He did want to be her friend. But the girl was so fierce Rhys doubted the chances of it happening.
He must have been pondering to himself for longer than he though because a man, looking taller than Rhys, siddeled in the seat next to Brooke, somewhat luckily not blocking his view. He watched and strained to listen to the conversation that was taking place. He scowled when the leech asked her to dance. He must have reeked of alcohol; Rhys could smell it from where he was sitting. Brooke refused. He felt familiar rage build up as he ran his hand up her arm, pleading her to dance with him. He was so drunk he had not a chance with her. She tried to jerk away, Rhys could see that, but he refused to loosen her grip on her. Brooke stood, as did the drunk man. Protectively, instinctively, Rhys copied thier movements. He was gripping on to one of her arms, towering over her. Rhys could hear his voice over the music, croaky and deadly.
"Wanna rethink you're answer, girlie?" He hissed, oblivious to the fury that was building up within the eighteen year old Slytherin jackass. She, Brooke, wasn't moving, wasn't answering, it seemed she wasn't even breathing. Suddenly, scaring even himself with his swiftness, he was at Brooke's side in a shot. He punched the man's face; he yelled as Rhys dislocated his nose. The music stopped and everyone watched as Rhys kicked the man's leg - he fell to the floor as both his legs buckled beneath him. He didn't seem to be getting up. The Slytherin turned to Brooke. "Are you Oka-"

[/color] His speech got cut off as a bodyguard hauled Rhys out of the nightclub.
Sighing on the concrete, Rhys wiped himself off, stood up and began to head home. He wasn't expecting any thank you's from Brooke.
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* --- TRIES TO COVER UP

A L L O F H E R M I S T A K E S ~[/center]

TAGGEDBrooke
NOTES

[/color]It sucks, sorry.
TEMPLATE CREDITMeeeee![/right][/size][/font]

[isabella]

((OK )

[yumi8]

good to go.