#ooc: #omg #every time I read your post all I could think about was how she was going to knee him in the balls #or slap him #or rip off his balls #or rip out his throat #luckily she didn't #phew
Great Hall || Sirius and Doe
Sirius grabbed the edge of the stall wall, leaning over and awkwardly throwing his arm over the side to point at her angrily.
“Then stop being even more pissy when I actually stick up for myself in the face of your stupid anger!” he said, his eyes flashing. Sirius licked his lips, his brow furrowed. Doe wasn’t making sense. She just wasn’t. Maybe Sirius should just be gay. Become a religious pipe smoker and read newspapers and— no, boobs were too good to give up.
“Maybe you shouldn’t have been standing so close to the door; I wasn’t suggesting you’re on the rag I was comparing your irrational mood swing to a fat bird on the rag; and no I wasn’t, because I like fucking you, having sex with you, whatever you want to call it, I’m just starting to think that you don’t like it because you storm out of there like a cat confronted with water and now you’re biting my fucking head off for being muddy after Quidditch practice!” Sirius released the wall, turning his head back into the water and shaking it so water splattered around him, splaying out. So much for long, hot, relaxing shower.
“Maybe,” he continued, reaching for some soap and cursing under his breath when he realised he’d left his shampoo on the other side of the room. He was not getting out of the shower to get it. His hair would have to manage without. “If you stopped yelling at me for five minutes you’d realise that I don’t want to fight because I don’t want to lose my temper. Or do you not remember what happens when I do?”
Just saying that made Sirius’ stomach lurch and he paused in washing himself for a moment, eyes closed as a sickening nausea washed over him. He knew he was nowhere near that angry, but he still didn’t want to be such a short fuse. He looked up and glared daggers at Doe, throwing down the soap and washing off the suds before grabbing his towel and wrapping it around his waist and stepping out in front of her again, hands clenched at his sides.
“Sorry for whatever the fuck I did that got your royal panties in a twist— oh wait,” Sirius brought a hand to his mouth, as if he’d just remembered something. “Are you even wearing any?”
But then he cut her off, continuing to rant. He just didn’t get it! He hadn’t listened to a word that Dorcas had said, not one! Not a single one! He didn’t understand what it was that had annoyed her, nor did he understand how he had made it worse when he had began insinuating that all women, when angered, were “PMSing”. Of course he hadn’t said that she was, but comparing her to a woman who was, implied that female anger only ever occurred when certain hormones were more unbalanced than otherwise. It was a terrible implication. Old-fashioned, and misogynistic, and archaic, and she wouldn’t stand for it.
But then he was cutting her off again, which was part of the reason why she had followed him in here in the first place! He kept storming off to prevent her from getting a word in, and now he was just going on and on without pause! Hot anger bubbled through her. She felt overheated and shaking, though certainly not a weak, scared shaking. More like the kind of shaking when you knew that you had to react at a moment’s notice. It was the fight-or-flight and she was ready to fight.
“…I don’t want to fight because I don’t want to lose my temper. Or do you not remember what happens when I do?”
A quick jolt shot through Doe, making her freeze as she was dragged back to that day several weeks ago. A cold shame began to trickle through her, and her head fell a fraction of an inch. What the hell were they even fighting about? Sure, she had been cranky because of a lack of sleep and from being bitched out by that fucking librarian. Sure, he had been annoying her. But why the fuck were they screaming at each other like this? Why did he keep bringing up the way she had left the cupboard against her? So what if she left?! They had class to get to! She at least said goodbye! What the fuck did he want from her? One minute he was going on and on about how they weren’t dating (which they definitely weren’t!) and then he was being all soft and gentle and acting like he’d had his feelings hurt. There weren’t supposed to be any feelings!
“…Are you even wearing any?”
Another jolt. Not of shock, though. Anger. Rage. Wrath. Everything that had ever made her angry. Everything that had ever made her want to scream.
Dorcas Meadowes had a very interesting personality quirk. Most of the times she cried, it was not because she was sad. It was not because she had suffered some great disappointment. Doe Meadowes didn’t really cry the way most people did. She blamed it on being forced to always keep her emotions at bay when she was at home. She was always being told that above all else, she must not let her emotions control her. Doe must always keep herself calm on the surface. She had to be quiet, collected, and polite.
So for Doe Meadowes to cry, with the exception of the event in the aforementioned cupboard a few weeks prior, she had to be really fucking angry.
Dorcas’ eyes met Sirius’ in a hard glare as hot tears began falling down her face.
“Go to hell,” she whispered, immediately turning on her heel and beginning to storm to the exit before she could do something she would regret. Like slapping him. Or driving her knee into his groin as hard as she possibly could. God damn, that last one was so tempting…