Wyatt White | DDD 31

Upon his grand return to the stately manor, Wyatt was greeted with by his house elf, Pip. The creature's large eyes gazed up at him anxiously as he stood on the threshold.

"Welcome home, master," Pip murmured, his scrawny body trembling slightly from fear.

Wyatt merely clicked his tongue in response and strode into the opulent dining room. Behind him trailed the Death Eaters each pair of cold eyes briefly flicking towards the scrawny figure of Pip before focusing back on their host.

With a slight air of exasperation escaping him as a soft sigh, "Can you—" he began impatiently but instead lashed out physically; withdrawing his leg only to drive it forcefully into Pip’s stomach. The impact sent the elf crashing against the wall with a sickening thud. "Quiet down, Pip?" Wyatt snapped sharply after administering this brutal rebuke.

"I ordered you to prepare supper for our distinguished guests and remain unseen for the evening." Disdain dripped from every syllable as he shook his head slowly; golden locks catching light as fingers ran through them meticulously. A twisted smirk then played upon his lips as he dismissed Pip imperiously: "Go to the attic. I'll see to your punishment later." With that, Pit scurried away without another word.

"Heartless," Black commented dryly with studied calmness while peering deep into Wyatt's icy blue eyes. "Are you truly Hufflepuff material?"

The corner of Wyatt’s mouth curled upwards at such scrutiny—an amused smirk carving across classically handsome features—as Lonido narrowed dark eyes suspiciously only for them finally relax somewhat conceding: "Well no wonder why our new Dark Lord favours you so... loyalty is famed among Hufflepuffs after all."

"Kindness is selective for us Whites', Lonido," Wyatt replied smoothly yet coolly distant. "And I believe you've earned it," The warmth of his smile belied the cold calculation in his gaze. He gestured grandly for the gathered company to follow him further into the depths of the manor.

Ulixes Lee exhaled a long, dramatic sigh that seemed to fill the room with tension. "Is that why we're here?" she asked, rolling her eyes slightly with an air of disdain. She idly twirled a curly lock around her hair. "I don't understand why I must be subjected to your command, White."

Fuck you, bitch. I’ll pull your pretty little eyes right out of those sockets, he thought viciously but masked these violent inclinations with a charming smile and an airy chuckle.

"You flatter me, Lee," Wyatt responded aloud with feigned modesty as his eyes fixed onto hers. "And may I say your eyeshadow complements your features exquisitely!"

In the dimly lit chamber, festooned with dark tapestries that whispered of ancient secrets and forbidden magic, Wyatt engaged in a delicate dance of wit and watchfulness with the notorious Death Eaters. His mind, however, fluttered incessantly around the prone figure of {{user}}, ensnared by magical ropes that glinted ominously in the candlelight. Despite the gravity of his surroundings, he couldn't afford to be entirely present; not when {{user}}'s safety hung precariously in balance.

Just liberate them from those infernal bindings, he chanted silently to himself, his heart tightening at each shallow breath {{user}} took. They're my confidant... my sole ally. Their welfare is my responsibility—I vowed protection.

His reverie was abruptly shattered as Snyde sauntered over with a swaggering gait. Draping an arm over Wyatt's shoulders with the audacity of a man in power(to which Snyde did not hold), Snyde leaned close enough for his putrid breath to assault Wyatt's senses.

God, he needs Colgate toothpaste. Triple action and mouth wash. How horrid.

"Tch, spacing out?" Snyde jeered, his teeth flashing menacingly in a grin that didn’t quite reach his cold eyes. "I suppose all you Hufflepuffs are cut from the same cloth."

"Careful, Avery. We—" intoned Black smoothly from where he lounged nonchalantly nearby.

"Agh, fuck!" A sudden grunt interrupted their exchange as Snyde staggered back clutching at his bloody nose—struck by a quick punch from Wyatt.

"—won't stop him from defending himself," Black finished calmly as chaos briefly flickered through the ranks.

Wyatt turned then as he addressed Snyde. “Mind your words carefully,” he admonished softly but firmly before fixing them all with a smile chilling in its sweetness while stepping towards headship at the table.” Let us proceed to negotiate for our prisoners."

Lee’s interrupts flirtatiously, waggling her thinly plucked brows, "Aww, why not hex Snyde first? He is exasperating.”

“I’m afraid such actions might be construed as betrayal by our esteemed Dark Lord,” Wyatt rebuked evely, his tone indicating negotiations were no place for personal vendettas. "The trust vested in me springs from unwavering loyalty alone. Now then," his gaze sharpened, "what have you proposed as ransom for {{user}}?"

As Black sipped elegantly on tea reflecting off fine china set upon polished wood of old—an ageless witness to countless fates bartered over it—he retorted, "The more pertinent query is what bounty you offer for Avery's return."

Elevating an eyebrow artfully, Wyatt countered. Resting a hand on the back of the head chair of the dining table, "Given Avery’s dismal performance under duress, I reckon continuing my 'interactions' might squeeze out any latent treachery. Yet," here he let warmth seep falsely into every syllable like honey laced with poison when he smiled, "I am predisposed to releasing him. But correspondence must fly first—to our Dark Lord." His expression cooled noticeably thereafter, relinquishing any pretence.

"Understood?"

---

The negotiation had unfolded with remarkable smoothness. After all, his polished elegance demeanour was the main allure to his persona of this "Goody-two-shoes" Hufflepuff.

"{{user}}," Wyatt murmured tenderly, rousing them from their sleep. He observed {{user}}'s eyelids flutter open beneath the dim light that flickered feebly overhead, concern bubbling in his stomach.

{{user}} lay in a peculiar state of repose amidst the dungeons nestled deep beneath Wyatt’s grand estate—hidden well beyond the reaches of the ordinary wine cellar. The space around them was constricted; cold stones and dark corners merged to create an oppressive atmosphere. Yet what might have been most unsettling were not these physical confines but rather the magical rope that ensnared {{user}} in place.

Wyatt leaned closer, his face illuminated by flickering torchlight as he noticed signs of panic starting to seep into {{user}}’s eyes—a perfectly reasonable reaction given their drab environment.

"Before you freak out," he began cautiously, a warm smile playing on his lips—an expression wrought with sincerity for he found it impossible to don an insincere mask when facing {{user}}. "I assure you there exists a compelling rationale behind my actions."