A little Potterverse AU Duncney.

Moved over from my main account, with a few revisions based on the previous version's reviews.

He glanced around as he stepped behind a statue into a passageway and down a flight of stairs that lead directly to the courtyard. Pausing every so often, he listened carefully for any sound – from the metallic clang of Barrage's metal leg to the thwak thwak of Finster's orthopaedic shoes on the cobbles. After a moment of silence, he was satisfied enough to ease a cigarette out of the paper packaging and to his lips.

If he'd have been at the juvenile detention centre, he'd have gotten hell for it if he was caught but there was so much freedom here. No metal detectors, no security guards. He was almost always out of the dorms after curfew and he'd yet to be caught and 'punished' for it.

Amzy was the worst, if you crossed her. She played the sweet old lady, but if she cared enough to punish a student, they'd be locked in solitary confinement for hours and made to test miscellaneous potions. But she seldom cared enough to punish students, unless they interfered with her personal projects.

Barrage liked to shout and dole out punishments, but he could only dish out so many unsupervised detentions before they lost effect. Finster supervised detentions, but after so many hours, her constant glare wasn't any more effective than Barrage's screaming. And the rest of the them were weak. A lecture, a month of writing lines, maybe. But that'd be it.

Hogwarts was definitely no juvenile detention centre.

Pulling his wand out of his robes, he tapped the tip against the cigarette in his lips and spoke. "Incendio."

Watching the flame for a moment before letting it die out, he loosened his maroon and gold tie and leaned against the stone wall to take a drag of his bootleg cigarette, wondering if it was even worth going back to class after his smoke.

"Are you smoking?"

"Well, well, well, what do you know?" He took another drag, his blue eyes surveying the freckle-faced brunette standing before him with her hands on her hips. "Princess cuts class too."

"I am not cutting class." Her snort of indignation made him smirk. "I have permission; Professor Frizzle gave me a hall pass."

The way she wrinkled her nose in total disdain was kind of hot. "That's what they all say, sweetheart."

"I'm a prefect. Prefects don't skip classes." She tapped the green and silver badge on her chest that emphasized the prefect's 'P' as she spoke. And then she made a face. "I don't have to explain myself to the likes of you."

"Po-tay-to, po-tah-to." He shrugged, taking another drag.

She didn't leave. Instead, she pursed her lips and crossed her arms. "Don't you know smoking is bad for you?"

"Yep." He said, making an 'o' shape with his mouth and blowing a ring of white smoke towards her.

She glared and waved a hand in front of her face to get rid of the smoke, coughing. "Don't do that. It's a disgusting habit."

"Well, you're welcome to leave at any time if you dislike it so much."

She was so easy to rile up, to tick off. And it was kind of something he'd always liked in a woman. So he couldn't help smirking in satisfaction as she turned on her heel and stormed off, her freckled cheeks flushed with anger.

"Ogre."

"Call me sometime, sweetheart!"

"Not gonna happen!"

And then with a flourish of black robes, she was gone.

She was so into him.

Throwback to Island-era Duncney, before the relationship got toxic.