Chapter Eleven

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11

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11.

(WARNING: There's an exorcism in this chapter. Nothing is crazy graphic or rough, mostly just praying and Tom being unhappy, but if it's going to upset you, you can skip from when a voice says 'Only united can you defeat the true evil', to the new section when 'The sounds of the classroom suddenly flood back'. I'll summarise the important bits of the section in the author's note at the end.)





TOM sits across from Dillion, watching him rather than reading his book.

The boy is sitting beside Cessair, the younger so quick to sidle up to someone interesting and new. They've been talking about classes for the past few minutes, trading opinions on teachers and coursework, Dillion's book on Communicating with the Dark forgotten. Cessair has taken particular interest in Dillion's opinions on Care for Magical Beasts, apparently wondering if he should pursue it next year, or if he'll be able to persuade his parents to. Dillion, in his responses, can only be described as diplomatic. Tom has seen Dillion interact with Merrythought, so he knows when the boy claims to agree with Cessair's liking of her, he's lying.

Tom didn't know Dillion prior to his disownment, so he never saw what he was like playing the part of the Pureblood son. He thinks this is probably what he looked like. Just like everyone else. Boring.

He isn't sure what bothers him more: the fact Dillion is clearly pretending, or the fact he does it so well. There's a smile on his lips as he listens to Cessair and, when it brightens into polite laughter, it's so charming even Tom forgets he's looking at Dillion Lux, a boy he'd previously thought wouldn't know charm if it punched him in the face. Even the others get caught up in his conversation, dragged away from their studies with his attentive gaze and tame anecdotes.

It's easy to forget Dillion is the son of — if Eric's information is to be trusted — one of the most powerful Light-aligned Pureblood families. It's easy to forget that, once, he might have classed as an aristocrat, a little lordling that would never know what it's like to suffer. Tom has never once considered him particularly modest and yet, now, as he recognises Dillion's beginnings, rarely so obviously displayed, the thought passes over his mind. He quickly brushes it away. If there is one thing Dillion will never be, it's modest. The sin of pride comes too easily to him. This is deception. This is the snake, coiled around an apple, daring you to trust him.

"Your brother is very passionate about the Dark Arts." Cessair's comment brings the first crack on Dillion's façade, the smile dropping almost instantly. Only Tom seems to notice the sudden change, covered quickly by a laugh that doesn't appear quite as natural as the others have. "I mean, he's passionate about defending against them, but he's still passionate."

"I was wondering what his classes would be like. He never struck me as the teaching type."

"He's painfully prejudice, that's what he is." Eric pipes up from behind his book, not even bothering to lower it. He then adds, as if remembering his company, "Sorry, Lux."

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