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Post by `narcissa virga black on Jun 13, 2011 17:16:14 GMT -5
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beautiful & dirty rich , Narcissa was never good at potions. It was a common stereotype that every Slytherin student that passed through Hogwarts excelled in the subject. It was false. Very, very false. Many students were merely allowed to slide because their head of house had control over that department.
Or they had enough sense to reach out to those in Slytherin who were good enough to one day become Potion Masters themselves (for though not all Slytherins excelled in the subject, those students that did excel were all proud wearers of green and silver). Narcissa had, apparently, been allowed to slide for too long. And she hated asking someone for help, especially someone who wasn’t under her spell or her alliance and familiar. None of her friends lowered themselves to tutoring. She’d been paying a student the year above her to do her work for her, but it was blatantly obvious when her exam grades weren’t on par with the homework she turned in. Of course, there was also the little fact that Narcissa’s writer’s tone (even in essays and worksheets) was very, very distinct.
Her last class on Thursday had been potions and they’d had their first mini-exam of the year handed back. Proffesor Slughorn had pulled her aside after class and confronted her about her grade. She’d managed to get a negative grade (extra points taken off for writing in pink). She needed to buckle down for the O.W.L.s, he explained. Her wishy-washy attitude was never going to get her anywhere. He also explained that he’d have to owl her parents if her abysmal grades continued and she would certainly not be permitted into the advanced N.E.W.T classes.
Narcissa really couldn’t care; she’d explained countless times to Cygnus that she just couldn’t do potions. She was precise, which was highly required, but she had no patience. She hated reading the stupid directions and wanted to do it her way. She enjoyed classes that would help her with her life; charms, herbology, transfiguration. At least History of Magic was interesting when her ancestors were mentioned. There was no appeal in potions and no skill to build appeal off of.
And he’d assigned her dentention. And not just ordinary, sit for a few hours, do some lines detention. A full day. A full Saturday. She’d report to him at promptly nine AM, work, enjoy her lunch with him, work some more, and, if she worked hard enough, she’d be released in time to have dinner with her classmates. If not, they could once again enjoy a charming little meal for two together. Narcissa was more than a little upset.
A whole weekend pretty much wasted away doing potions! Everyone would be going to Hogsmeade and staying out past dinner anyways. She’d miss out on a whole trip’s worth of gossip. What if some blond boy had wanted to ask her on a date? Nothing. She hadn’t even cared about the Headmaster’s mention about Sabbaths or transfiguration teachers that evening. She’d kept being furious all through Friday as well, messing up the most basic of Charms during class and just flat-out skipping Care of Magical Creatures; she hadn’t been in the mood to face two catastrophes that week.
She’d woken up on Saturday not at all looking forward to her day with Slughorn. Besides this, she’d never liked the man. He’d only wanted little Reggie in his club. He didn’t want to bother with the Black sisters if he couldn’t have the whole set (Andromeda, Merlin curse her name, wouldn’t want to be a part of such a prestigious group).
She took her time showering and dressing, tying her hair in a low bun with a black silk ribbon. It stood out against her pale hair (a reason she enjoyed wearing black; her skin and clothing contrast so nicely). She applied subtle colors to her lips and eyes along with the smallest amount of blush to her cheeks. She wouldn’t wear the uniform, not for him and definitely not on a Saturday.
By the time she made it to the great hall the last of 9 chimes echoed through the room. She was already late. A few of her friends patted her back and offered their sympathies for her day before returning to their conversation about what they’d do in Hogsmeade that day. She bent around them, grabbing half of a grape fruit (she didn’t have time for anything else, nor did she want anything else. She was eager to remove every inch of fat from her body before her sixteenth birthday) she tucked it into a napkin and stabbed it with a fork.
Narcissa then, in heals no less, had to run all the way back down the dungeons to Professor Slughorn’s office. Outside of his door, she composed herself. Sliding into the room when she finally caught her breath, she was rather annoyed to find the room empty. She sat in a little chair in front of his desk and then after a few moments moved to perch on the edge of his desk, next to the door leading to his private rooms.
She let herself eat then, taking a few bites of the testable, sour fruit. She didn’t even have a cup of tea, she realized. She was about halfway done with her little breakfast (eaten with excruciatingly slow bites) and he still hadn’t appeared. Narcissa scowled.
“Professor,” she called through the door in a most unlady-like fashion. “If you do not want to have this little detention I’d be more than happy to pass it up as well. However, it would nice if you could come out and properly dismiss me and apologize for your tardiness. I have plenty of other things I could be doing today besides eating in your office. I have made the effort to be on time, I appreciate the same effort from my teachers! ”
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Post by lucius on Jun 13, 2011 18:12:59 GMT -5
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`a most inglorious saturday
To say for certain just how Lucius was feeling at this moment would have been difficult to discern. The past few days had been a rather unconscious blur, which was self induced, because he knew he couldn't take the reality of things in stride. It probably would have been one of those rare occasions in which Lucius Malfoy would lose his cool. There was no rational to any of things -- no logic to cling to. Everything had occurred much too quickly for his liking. He had adapted as he normally would have done; but, each step had been more of an out of body experience than a sober decision. As to why he had even taken up this position before he could figure out where the hell he was, was beyond him. However, in those moments alone when he could properly think and mull over the facts, he came closer and closer to believing that he had gone mad in the cold, damp cell in Azkaban that he had been rotting away in.
He had snapped.
All of this was a delusion brought about by self induced madness -- entertainment to drone out the screaming and moaning of the criminals that were sentenced to rot away in that God-forsaken prison like he did. His mind had reduced itself to experience pure fantasy, wherein he was walking the halls of Hogwarts. Why his mind had picked this wretched place, he did not know. He could have been relaxing in his office: brandy in one hand, wife in another. He could lull in eternity in that place. That would have been heaven -- so, did that mean that this was hell? It honestly didn't matter. Any change of environment was better than the monotonous moldy cobblestone walls. If he had been forced into madness, it was better to at least be in a warm, safe place.
Yet, something ate at the back of his mind. This tantalizing idea that all of this was real, and that by some stroke of luck he had been magicked far away from Azkaban. All he could remember was waking up upon the shores of the Hogwarts Lake, unshaven and messed. By divine providence he had been released from his torment and given a second chance. However, there was something different. Him being a wanted man, and of his reputation, had somehow become anonymous and unknown. When a few students found him wading close by the water, they didn't seem to know who he was or how he had gotten there. In fact, when he, on complete whim, decided to go up into the castle, possibly risking his new found freedom, there wasn't a soul in the place that knew who he was. He didn't know who any of them were either, except for a fair few faces that he could have swore to only have seen when he was a younger man himself. What made things stranger is that some of the staff he recognized as his old Professors were there also, people he hadn't seen for years. He was confused. He was disoriented. There was a position on the staff open.
So he took it.
Confusion didn't cover what Lucius was feeling. Nothing did. Conflicted thoughts wanted him to believe that either he had gone completely insane or he had, in fact, jumped back to a time he only could describe as the past. He had yet to see faces of those whom he were great friends with in the past, or even his own self. He couldn't be sure of much. All he could understand was that he was entirely stuck, and there was seemingly no way out. So, one had to do what he could to survive.
He was sitting in his office, thinking of these things, when all of a sudden he heard a voice from the other side of the door. It was indignant, obviously female. She mentioned something about a detention that he didn't remember giving out. Then again, he hadn't been in staff long enough to give out any sort of detention. He had yet to be introduced to his students. He was replacing Slughorn -- and Merlin only knew how awkward of a meeting that was -- and had properly introduced himself as Phineas Cadmus. He couldn't call himself Lucius. For, if he really was in his own past, it would be quite disturbing to steal the name of someone else who was already residing in the castle -- even if it was your own. Either way, a day of peace and quiet had been rudely interrupted by the irritated chirping of an obviously spoiled student. He was wasting her time. Not the other way around. Lucius stood, giving a soft sigh from his nose as he straightened out his dress shirt and vest. His clothes were all borrowed -- he had no money to his name. Not now, at least. He would find a way around Gringotts later. He looked relatively sophisticated for the clothes being a step down from his usual quality, and he gathered himself with an air of authority as he grabbed his walking stick and sauntered toward the door.
"Is that normally how you talk to your Professors," he began, stepping through the door. He walked across the room without looking at her, propped his walking stick against his desk, and gracefully whipped around far enough so that his hands landed directly on the flat of her table, as he hissed through gritted teeth: "Young lady?"
And then, his eyes widened slightly in surprise.
He knew that face -- the same pale blue eyes, pouted lips, taut jawline and prim, clean blonde hair. Lucius would have slapped himself crazy if he was mistaken of that countenance. He knew it well -- he had touched it, kissed it, stroked it... he had even married it. It was like coming face to face with the shade of a person you hadn't seen in so long. His eyes carefully looked over her face, it registered so quickly that he knew he wasn't wrong. He was barely able to keep his composure and restrained himself from breathing out the name that only escaped on those occasions where their limbs wrapped themselves together in a pattern that could be matched by no other -- in which drenched in sweat, in breathless heaps he would whisper it only for her ears to hear.
Narcissa.
Immediately he stepped back from her table, crossing his arms over his chest as he tried so desperately not to look shocked by this revelation. His eyes continued to wander over her, his mind racing for some sort of logical explanation. He didn't want to give away his shock; but, he knew no other way to react than to let his cruelty pour out as a distraction.
"If you so desire to prolong your stay," he drawled, trying to steady his breathing. "Then keep talking. I have no qualms with punishing little girls for their insolent tongues."
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Post by `narcissa virga black on Jun 13, 2011 19:07:15 GMT -5
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beautiful & dirty rich , To say that Narcissa was surprised did not quite sum up her current feelings. She had been expecting Slughorn to waddle himself out, take a long drawn-out sigh, and order her off of his desk. She had expected a comment about respecting her superiors and then a jump right into mundane potions exercises. She had expected an aging, portly looking man with poorly trimmed facial hair.
She had not expected this.
The man was quick, his nose nearly touching hers as he swept into the little office area. His face was smooth, just shaved. His breath smelled of black tea and peppermints. His hair was clean and his cologne was crisp; she wished she could know the name and recommend it to every boy in her house. And his eyes…she met his wide eyes with her baby blues, blinking and trying to understand the familiarity of them. She felt as if she’d seen this man before. Perhaps he was a friend of her father. The way he talked suggested he was of good breeding, as did his clothing. His arms on either side of her were muscled, trapping her in the spot on Slughorn’s desk. He was so close that Narcissa feared taking too deep breaths might cause their chests to touch.
She blinked and he had already pulled away. It gave her a second to process his question.
“Occasionally this is how I speak to my professors. I expect that when a teacher assigns a detention he comes as well and does not stand me up like a nervous pre-pubescent boy.” Narcissa didn’t know what it felt like to be stood up, she certainly hadn’t dated enough for that to happen. Nor had she ever dated a pre-pubescent. She preferred young men of her own age group…or older.
She’d noticed his eyes wandering her body just as she’d noticed her legs were no longer crossed but had parted. She snapped her knees together and dumped what was left of her breakfast into the trash (she had no urge to eat when such eyes were judging her figure, and what eyes they were). Narcissa licked her lips.
She had half a mind to ‘prolong her stay’ just then. Never in her life had Narcissa been one to harbor feelings for a teacher or one of her father’s friends. She had never lusted after celebrities or older males she met on the streets. But never, her mind reasoned, had she met such an attractive teacher. She bit her lip, her eyes darting between him and his cane as the most vulgar imagery appeared of her being punished in her head. ‘Cissa’s heart began to race.
“I was waiting for Professor Slughorn, Sir. He assigned me detention for the entire day rather unfairly and I’m rather eager to just get this over with.” Another idea had just popped into her head about his tongue. A flush spread across her cheeks, though she didn’t know if it was due to embarrassment or the images dancing in her head. She pulled the black jacket she’d been wearing over her shirt off, and undid the top button- when had it become warm in the dungeons? She folded the garment over her lap, her eyes never leaving the man before her.
And then something occurred to her, something that she’d heard in the back of her head but hadn’t processed. “Oh. Are you Professor Slughorn’s replacement? Will you be the one to punish me?”
She hadn’t meant for the question to fall out like that and she probably should have just held her tongue in this setting and in his presence. She wanted to ask him more questions suddenly, wanting to hear more of his voice. He sounded very much like the pureblood lords (there was this manner they all spoke in, as if they’d all taken speech lessons as children) that her family was familiar with.
“Where are you from Professor….? You seem familiar but….” She shrugged, unsure of how dangerous continued to speak was. Perhaps part of her wanted to be punished. “I’m Narcissa. Narcissa Black.”
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Post by lucius on Jun 13, 2011 19:58:22 GMT -5
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`a most inglorious saturday
It was Narcissa as he knew her: defiant and headstrong. There was no mistaking it at this point, especially when she introduced herself to him as if they had never met before. It was strange to look upon the younger form of the woman you shared the same bed with, and for her to not even know who you were. He tried not to get nostalgic. Lucius had always been good at keeping his emotions to himself, it was a natural talent. But as each second passed, it became harder and harder to do so. A part of him began to miss his own Narcissa. If this were to be a delusion induced by his incarceration – this was no doubt his mind’s way to tell him that he was pining. It was strange that she would take this form. What did that say about him? Perhaps he was a sick bastard. Lucius stared down his nose at her, eyebrow perked slightly as he smirked.
”I know,” he replied coolly at her introduction, his mind chastising him immediately after those two fatal words passed his lips. He caught himself and gave a short, annoyed cough. ”Professor Slughorn left your name with me. I didn’t know when to expect you.” It was a good cover, he had to admit. And, soon after, he followed in an icily voice: ”Forgive my tardiness.” His arms lowered as he reached over and grabbed his walking stick from the side of his desk. It registered to him that it was strange to see her perched there like the seat had belonged to her. Suddenly, he slapped the side of the desk with the ebony rod, giving her a quick scowl as he pointed to the student’s desk behind him. He would have hissed “sit” at her; but, he had a feeling that she would be obedient. He knew the ins and outs of Narcissa – where just to poke, to prod, and to flatter. She was rather easy to sway, and if swaying didn’t work, he knew exactly where to assert his dominance in order to make her do as he pleased. There were rare moments where he ever had to intimidate Narcissa; but, being younger and stubborn would be more of a challenge to overcome. By the time they were married, he had her trained, so to speak. From what he could tell, this was a time long before his younger self ever had the chance to woo her. This was no longer his pet. She was a bit more insubordinate.
He could tell this by the way she was digging her hole deeper with each word.
Lucius was no fool. He could tell by the way she positioned herself and looked him over with curious and hungry eyes that she was immediately taken in by his charm. Narcissa had always been so naïve and curious in the ways of sex when they were younger, so he wasn’t too surprised by her reaction to him when he finally got to analyzing her mannerisms. Narcissa had always been the type to want to be taken care of. Older men could do that – after all, he had taken good care of her when he was in his seventh year. Now he was even older, and he was still Lucius. He was surprised that she wasn’t absolutely flustered in nervousness. Perhaps that was only because she didn’t know how to react beyond how she was now. He came as a surprise to her, he could tell. Lucius was not what she had expected, she had said so herself.
To be honest, he was rather surprised by the way he was reacting to her too. He didn’t want to admit it; but, she was as beautiful as he remembered her to be. It confused him some. He didn’t know if it made him a sick, perverted man. Was it so evil to feel that way about your own wife? It was a strange predicament. He wouldn’t lull on it long. He didn’t know what to do with her beyond what was required to him. She continued to talk insolently to him, even had the gall to call him a pre-pubescent boy. Most adults wouldn’t take that sort of talk from a child, no matter who it was. From what Lucius could remember, she had always been used to getting away with things. But this was Lucius she was dealing with; he wouldn’t fall for the cute little tricks that she pulled on other Professors.
”Professor Cadmus,” he informed her calmly, as he sauntered more toward the middle of the room. He grabbed a chair and sat down, watching her as she stared at him from the desk he had directed her to. ”is all you’ll get to know me by. Everything else is none of your business, Miss Black. Is that clear?” The question came out lightly, with the slight inflection he always stressed upon the end of the query that demanded obedience from the person he was asking the question from. His smirk grew just ever so slightly. Power had always been a nice thing for him. It gave him a sense of control that nothing else ever could.
Lucius sat up straight in his seat as his muscular legs crossed themselves graciously. ”You have a choice,” he informed her, his hair falling slightly over his shoulder as he tilted his head just slightly toward the left. ”You can either scrub cauldrons for the remainder of the day, or you can come up to the board—“ His hand came up and rapped upon the chalkboard behind him,“and write “I will not talk insolently to my superiors,” one thousand times.” At that moment, he grinned. He leaned forward in his seat, his elbows resting on his knees as he intertwined his fingers and rested his chin on the back of his hands.
”I would suggest the cauldrons… You wouldn’t want to get chalk dust all over your pretty little outfit, would you?”
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Post by `narcissa virga black on Jun 13, 2011 23:06:19 GMT -5
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beautiful & dirty rich , Narcissa jumped when his cane hit the desk, any attempt at kindness and flattery flew out the window (if there had been any windows in his office). The moment she realized he was actually a Professor and not some associate or friend of Slughorn she’d shifted her tone of voice. He was once again anything but what she’d expected. He could have hit her for Merlin’s sake. She flinched, ducking slightly as if that would help her avoid the blow. She slipped off of his desk and moved over to the small seat he’d gestured to. She dropped the bag beside her new spot and then dumped her jacket on top of that. She sat down, crossing her ankles and looking thoroughly put-out.
“It’s crystal clear, Professor Cad,” she murmured quietly, sniffing. She kept her head ducked down, no longer finding the man before her as terribly attractive as she had earlier. She was uninterested in anyone- man, woman, or child- that didn’t want to help or please her in same way.
She didn’t watch his movements, though she saw his shadow move along the stone floor. If he had been one of her father’s friends he certainly wouldn’t have treated her as he did now. He would have been quick to introduce himself. He didn’t even offer her tea; Slughorn would have offered her the warm drink before starting. He had at least wanted to assist her in some way, even if he was punishing her while doing so. Her father would certainly be getting another letter. This one would explain how Slughorn had ditched her for some pompous (and probably half-breed) prick who wasn’t even helping her with her potions skills (or lack thereof).
She listened to his ‘options’, her face slowly shifting into that of disgust. She was growing more upset by the minute. She didn’t want to hear him talk anymore; she wanted his stupid mouth to fall from his stupid face. She jerked her head up meeting his eyes for the first time in several minutes. There was no way she was going to do physical labor; she would never degrade herself or let anyone do so. A sneer spread across her face.
“I will do neither, Professor Cad. In case this little note Slughorn left you didn’t specify what was to go on today, you are to teach me potions. I have never in my life cleaned anything by hand and I rarely do so by wand; if you cannot instruct the students you are in charge of now to clean out their own cauldrons…well, why should I be responsible for your mistakes? And secondly, I’m allergic to chalk. I can’t touch it and I doubt your graciousness will allow me the use of my wand. I am here, on this lovely Saturday where I could be spending my time with a young man who hasn’t passed the peak of his life, to fix my grades. Do you understand me, Professor?”
She raised her head slightly, staring down her nose at the man in front of him. She was insulted and upset and was making it very clear to this pretentious man in front of her how she felt. She felt nervous and proud of herself all rolled into one. Her heart was racing and she felt slightly as if she was about to be physically ill.
She was not used to people treating her so low so therefore she was not used to taking it from anyone. Teachers had learned, after Bellatrix passing through, that one did not treat a Black as they treated other haughty little teen girls. Narcissa was a sweetheart when she wanted to be and therefore did not often need to be punished, if one treated her like the little doll she was…careers were strongly benefited Whose family donated the new section of the old Wizard Families to the library…oh, why the Blacks.
“And…Professor. One should not state they are my superior unless they know it for a fact…or can prove such to me. I have seen nothing that one could call superior about you, except perhaps your age…and that alone is in number. I’d rather describe you as advanced.”
Why was that the one thing she could hook onto? His age was the one thing she knew and could insult; she dug her pretty little French-manicured nails into that fact and tugged onto it the best she could. Until he gave her something else…well, she’d keep on with the age comments she supposed. Or perhaps he’d shut his mouth about this pointless nonsense of punishing her.
“Now…are you ready to teach me Potions, as is your job?” There. She had another thing to dig into. A teacher! What a lowly, common sort of job. She’d marry an influential member of the ministry or perhaps a Lord who could live off of the money made from his land. If she was truly unlucky she’d live with a man who inherited his family’s fortune and did nothing but stay in his home all the time and attempt to procreate with her.
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Post by lucius on Jun 13, 2011 23:45:19 GMT -5
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`a most inglorious saturday
Narcissa was blessed in one fashion: She was lucky she was who she was. Anyone who would have pulled such a stunt to him would have been cursed so fast that they wouldn’t know it even happened. He merely watched her outburst, remaining in the same position that he had taken before, every so often flexing his fingers so he could better focus on her diatribe. She was spoiled and indignant, not to mention offended by his demeanor toward her. Narcissa wasn’t used to being stood up to by authority figures. He even had a hard time himself standing up to her when he was a young man. Now, however, when he knew better, he wasn’t offended by her impudence. Rather, he was amused. She took it upon herself to use whatever little jab she could – calling him a little pet name that was supposed to disrespectful (a cad, really?), trying to berate him for his age, and making straightforward demands that so fit her needs, because she was wasting her time. She was gracing him with her presence, after all. It wasn’t a detention, it was a tutoring session.
When she had finished, Lucius stood. His countenance had never changed. It was as if her insults had blown over his head. He almost wanted to tell her that she would have to try harder if she wanted to truly offend him. But, that would only be encouraging the behavior. And he didn’t want that, did he? So he would play her game. However, it would be played by his rules. He approached her slowly, rounding beside her so that she directly looked up at him, and he down at her. His stance was firm and domineering, like a beast that circled its mate to displace its dominance over it. His hand reached down to her chin as gently lifted it and looked over her face. Her cheeks were slightly flushed from frustration. And as his thumb carefully brushed over her cheek, he noticed how soft and smooth her skin was. He gave a soft, derisive snort as he pulled his hand away.
”Well, if we’re going for pet names, Miss Black; by all means, call me Phineas. It doesn’t seem beyond your bratiness to hammer that nail in the coffin, does it?” His voice was cold and silky, each word pushing past his lips in barely over a whisper. It was neither angry nor accusatory, just a matter-of-factly. It was in that moment he turned away from her and approached his desk again, grabbing his walking stick from where he left it and holding the knob firmly in his hand as he pressed the staff into the ground. He leaned on it for a few moments and looked over her with a bit of amusement. That was when he allowed himself to ever-so-slightly chuckle at her, to communicate that he did not take her seriously.
”You see, Cissy,” he hissed carefully, throwing another snide smirk at her. ”I teach students that are worthy of my respect. And from the moment I entered this room, you haven’t displayed a single bit of you that deserves even an ounce of my respect.” Lucius turned from her and walked around the edge of his desk and to the seat that lay behind it. He very carefully seated himself, and leaned back, resuming the intertwinement of his fingers. He nibbled on the skin of his forefinger, almost in thought as he looked over the blond haired vixen that he wasn’t exactly sure to do with.
”I didn’t come in here with any intention to punish you until you gave me reason to do so. I would have loved to offer you some tea, worldly advice and my knowledge on the subject you seem to be struggling at.” His eyebrow perked upwards. It was somewhat of a true statement. He didn’t even care who was in here in the first place. Now that it was Narcissa, he was somewhat interested. He wasn’t exactly eager to force her to leave. But, what did it matter? If this was truly the creation of his own imagination, he would probably see her again; perhaps in more favorable circumstances. Well, when that thought flew by his head he began to wonder why he would even want that sort of situation to rise up again. Even if this was his wife, she wasn’t at the same time. She was the fifteen year old shell of his wife from back home. Even if it wasn’t exactly wrong to admire, there was something a bit devious about wanting to.
His fingers unhooked from each other as he gave a halfhearted shrug at her. ”But, we are wasting our time, aren’t we, Miss Black?” The question resonated with his deep voice in the relatively empty room as he posed it. He took this moment to unsheathe his wand from the walking stick. He pointed it at the door and mumbled a soft spell, with the door flying open in response not even a moment later. He prodded the point of his wand on the skin of his finger as he looked back at her. He was gnawing on the skin of his bottom lip as his eyes seemed to gesture her toward the entrance. ”By all means, I will not keep you if it conflicts with the many more important things you could be doing.”
This was a bit of reverse psychology on his part. He knew his Cissy. There wasn’t a bit of her that didn’t enjoy some amount of attention. Even if she was angry at him, his coolness and bit of suave had to be enough to at least pique her curiosity. He proved himself to be a civil man, which he was. He wouldn’t have an outburst at her, even if she were pushing for it.
Lucius flashed a smile at her, eyes sparkling deviously (as they used to many times in his past when he wished to tease her) as he gave a very low purr to her: ”Go on, Narcissa.”
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Post by `narcissa virga black on Jun 14, 2011 10:01:37 GMT -5
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beautiful & dirty rich , Narcissa’s eyes didn’t leave him now. She wouldn’t duck down her head in shame now. She was able to watch him stand, leaning against the cane as he did so. She wondered if he really needed the thing. Perhaps it was an old war wound; had he fought in the war with Grindelwald? Which side had he been on? Had the healers not been able to fix it? It must have been something from dark magic then. She’d heard of curses that couldn’t be healed, even by the best of mediwizards. It wasn’t the sort of cane she saw elderly wizards with. It was expensive; the snake-head handle having jeweled eyes (emeralds? They were green) and looking to be sterling silver. The snake head indicated Slytherin as much as it did dark forces. Everyone knew that taking on the iconic animal of Salazar Slytherin meant support of maintaining blood purity. Then why hadn’t she heard of any others by the name of Cadmus?
He didn’t look like a Phineas either. She knew several by that name. She thought witches and wizards were far more adept at naming their children. She’d never met a wizard, until now, that did not look like their name. Mudbloods and other such filth were in a different category. Names such as Ashley confused the blonde; who would name their child something ridiculous? Who on earth looked like an Ashley? Where was the history in that? Where was the beauty? She’d stick with Sir and Professor for her ‘Pet Name’.
She hissed back when he called her Cissy. She abhorred that stupid nickname; her sisters were the only ones who were allowed to ever get away with using it. It sounded like the name for lap dog or small toddler. She was Narcissa or ‘Cissa. Occasionally her father had other little pet names for her: Pixie, Poppet, Princess, or even Mab when she’d been little. No one else could get away with those names (except, possibly, a future husband), especially ‘Cissy.
“Don’t call me that stupid-“ But she was cut off as he continued on with his lecture. She bit her lip, attempting to ignore him as he attempted to take her down a peg. It was working and she despised him for that. Her perfectly straightened back slumped slightly and she shifted restlessly in her chair.
And then it hit her.
He wasn’t really talking about respect. Respect and propriety wasn’t what was on his mind at all. She’d heard rumors of teachers like this, stories told in the quiet cover of the Slytherin girls’ dorms. There were teachers who offered tutoring sessions to raise the young girls’ grades. However, when these girls showed up the pupils had to do a lot more than memorize recipes and spells. Part of her shuddered when she thought that Slughorn might have been attempting to do that with her (and forever greatful, though she’d never tell his replacement, that he’d gone away just in time. She’d rather die than be touched by his pudgy fingers).
She swallowed, blinking slowly as she stood up. He must have been giving her codes or something. She wasn’t familiar with this sort of practice, how was she to pick up on this sort of thing? And he’d taken her lack of knowledge as rejection; she hadn’t rejected him. She’d been unaware of what he was expecting from her. She should have picked up on it, the way he leaned nearly up against her when he first entered, the way he’d spoken to her, the way he’d brandished the cane about.
Professor Slughorn had specifically told her this would be her only time to get her grades up. In one month she’d already doomed herself for nearly the entire year. He’d also hinted more such lessons would be required. How could she pass without these sessions? She was helpless in potions. Her father would be so ashamed. A Black flunking in potions.
Narcissa swallowed again, starting to feel more than a little nervous.
When he pulled his wand out (which made her gasp a little in awe) she jumped slightly. Her eyes stared at the open door, her eyes wide and unblinking now. She moved towards the portal, pulling out her own wand. She used it to shut the door again, standing two feet from it, and then locking it. She dropped her bag and jacket on the floor next to it, turned away from him still as she took a couple deep breaths with her head facing down.
Finally she turned around. Her hands reached up to play with the collar of her shirt, a blush creeping across her cheeks. She was always blushing; she blushed too easily because of her skin tone. She wished she was darker like Bellatrix; Narcissa felt she favored her mother and the other Rosiers far too much.
She moved over to him, toying with the highest done-up button on her blouse. “Professor,” She began imploringly. “Sir, I’ve never done anything like this before. I have never even let a man kiss me. If this is what you require me to do for my grades, I must inform you that I shall require your worldly advice. And hope that you shall understand that I wish with my very soul to be able to wear white on my wedding day. I could never shame my family by not, or if this ever were to reach anyone’s ears. I will need you to instruct me on other manners of…education. And ask for you to keep this day buried deep in your soul.” She met his eyes.
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Post by lucius on Jun 14, 2011 12:19:06 GMT -5
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`a most inglorious saturday
The part of Lucius that loved Narcissa so deeply wanted to punch him.
The fact that it had gotten this far was true testament to his charm and her naiveté. It told him a lot of what she viewed him as. He was a very good looking older man: One that was, presumably, offering sex in return for a better grade. And although she approached the idea begrudgingly, there had to be a bit of her that actually wanted it. Narcissa may have done things out of necessity; but, there always had to be some aspect that was a tad comfortable with what she was about to implement. The idea was ridiculous. And yet, for the barest of moments, his mind considered it. As sick as it was to him, possibly, there was a flash for a mere moment that made him consider the possibility of accepting the offer – no one would know. She knew what she was getting into. If this were a mere delusion induced by crushing loneliness in incarceration, what possible consequences could there be?
And yet, as she approached, nervously fumbling with the top button of her blouse, he knew he could not do that to her. Not in this circumstance.
”You are very pretty,” he let himself say. After it had come out, he didn’t know why. It didn’t exactly help his case. He had to stop himself from uttering the even more fatal phrase: “and I’m tempted,” before he damned himself forever to being a perverted old man. His eyes went to her buttons. That probably didn’t help either. He leaned forward and removed her hands from her blouse. When he looked up into her eyes, her cheeks were still flushed and from the position he was in, it must have looked absolutely devious. His fingers deftly hooked the button together again and his hands travelled over the wrinkles on her blouse to straighten them out again. His eyes never left hers, not even for a moment, and when he retracted his hands, he offered her a very small, reassuring smile.
”I wasn’t implying that,” he muttered very gently, as if to assuage her fears. ”Even if I was, you are being a silly girl.” he forced himself away from her, leaning back in his chair. His legs crossed themselves again, and he leaned his chin upon his hand. A few strands of silver hair fell over his face and he gave a long, arduous sigh in response. He didn’t want to be mean to her, not when she was this vulnerable. But now he knew for a fact that he didn’t know what he should do with her. The more she lingered, the more he felt in his gut the pang of desire to be with his wife again. He would never tell her this; but, he missed her. He missed her a lot. It took everything in his power to not reach over and take advantage of her younger visage, even if it were to kiss or hold her. And every second that passed by seemed to melt his resolve more and more. He didn’t even know if he could stand being with her for too long.
”It would be a stupid thing to lose your virtue for that,” he said gruffly, and yet his voice still retained its characteristic silkiness. That felt like something he would have said to his own daughter, if he had had one. Narcissa would have always wanted a little girl. For some reason, he knew it would have looked like the girl standing before him now: Just another image of his beautiful wife. ”I know you’re much smarter than that.”
His eyes glanced over her again. She was so unaware, so docile and so vulnerable. Her stance was uncertain, as if she were waiting to take his lead. Her cheeks were flushed from embarrassment. It was strange that at this moment, in all the times he had remembered being with her, young and old, that this was the moment that she seemed most like a virgin. His eyes glanced away from her so he wouldn’t remain tempted. ”You’ll wear white on your wedding day,” he softly reassured her.
And from what he remembered, she did.
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Post by `narcissa virga black on Jun 14, 2011 13:13:36 GMT -5
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beautiful & dirty rich , Narcissa’s face was still pink from embarrassment, but a new emotion joined her visage. Her blue eyes glossed over, her brow dipping just slightly. It was a look she’d rarely ever worn and it was an emotion that was even more rarely shown. Her eyes were always so telling; she could master a mask of ice, indifference, and apathy when needed but her eyes always managed to convey what was really going on in her mind. And just then, plain as day, was the absolute sense of rejection. Her eyes had watered slightly, as if she was nearing the verge of tears. It gave them that glossy look they had now, almost as if they were glassy eyes of a doll looking back at him. It felt like there was a lead weight in her that had dropped through her head, hit something behind her breasts because her whole chest ached, and then settled in her stomach.
When he’d reached to redo the little buttons on her top, Narcissa wrapped her arms around her stomach. They were not crossed over her chest in anger, but right around her middle. She was unable to tear her eyes away from his until he finally pulled away and attempted to smile at her. Then she looked away, blinking furiously. Every time she took a deep breath she ached.
She had never been rejected by anyone of the opposite sex before. She was the one who did the rejecting. She turned down boys disdainfully, sneering at them. She insulted them and asked how they could possibly be worthy of her. She dissected their lifestyles and attitudes. She’d never had someone decide she wasn’t good enough for them. There was one boy who’d evoked a similar feeling, but that had not been rejection. She’d wanted Lucius Malfoy to pay attention to her and he hadn’t. His rejection wasn’t verbal or as pitifully obvious as this.
But what was she talking about? Was she hurt because a middle-aged teacher no longer wanted her to pleasure him? She should be grateful that her reputation was saved by his disgust in her. Those facts still didn’t stop the feelings that rose in her throat.
“I am pretty,” she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper. “I am a pretty little girl, no matter how close I am to being a woman. I am not nor will I ever be attractive. I don’t inspire men to want me, do I?”
It was rhetorical, he needn’t answer. She was unable to hold back a single, solitary tear that bubbled from her eye and slid down her cheek. She raised her hand, rubbing away the path it had left with the back of her hand. Now her makeup would be smudged too. She internally cursed him.
“I am not sexy.”
She moved away from him, picking up her bag and placing it on the desk. She pulled her jacket back on; buttoning up the black fabric (it matched her skirt perfectly). With shaking hands she placed her diamond-ended wand in the designated pocket in her bag, stringing it over her shoulder.
“Professor Cadmus, you know nothing about my wedding day. You will probably think it is stupid too. I am sorry I’m not to your liking or what you were expecting. I shall have to accept my failing grade then, I suppose. I don’t really need potions to be a pretty little kept wife, do I? I shall leave you to your own thoughts then…” She pulled the negative-grade marked exam and placed it on his desk, starting to move towards the door.
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Post by lucius on Jun 14, 2011 13:43:31 GMT -5
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`a most inglorious saturday
It was strange how something that was intended to be comforting ended up being something that crushed her self-esteem. This was Narcissa, after all. Even the slight hint of rejection would spin her on a whirlwind of self-doubt and loathing. He hadn’t intended for her to react this way. He hoped that she would have been relieved. He hoped that she would have been happy that he respected her virtue. But, she took his refusal of her offer as his outright saying that there was nothing desirable about her. That wasn’t even true in the slightest. Even if he were outwardly about it, the idea of his wanting of her still frightened him some. She was very young. He was very old. There were more issues that curtailed those two details than he would have liked to face. But, now, as she tearfully began to leave his office he began to wonder what would be best to do with her. Perhaps it would have been better if she had left and avoided him for the rest of his time here. That way, the temptation wouldn’t have been so outstanding. He wouldn’t have to do something stupid. And yet, as the shade of his wife began to walk away from him, many things hit Lucius’ mind that made him want to get up and stop her.
The one phrase that rang so familiarly in his head was her statement of not being sexy – he had heard that once before. She told him of this long ago, when they were together… Right before he proposed. She said she wasn’t sexy like the other girls he had been with. But, she loved him. And he loved her too, even if he wouldn’t say it. That was more nostalgia than he needed, and he was suddenly struck by the desire for her not to leave him. But what to do?
Before his mind could come to a reasonable answer, he was already standing. He walked to her. Soon enough, his hand rested on her shoulder just firm enough to turn her to face him. His eyes searched hers imploringly as he thought of the right thing to say to her. What could he say? Nothing would be comforting to her. “It’s inappropriate,” would only have upset her more, and to tell her that all those things she stated were not true would only encourage her to try to woo him again. He didn’t know what he wanted at that moment. He was still relatively shocked that he was even around her. From the distance he kept from her, higher up, he could still smell her vanilla scent as it snaked up into the air and reached his nose.
Unwittingly, he gave a deep, peaceful sigh.
His hand came up to her cheek as he used his thumb to brush over the wetness and make the tears go away. It was probably much too affectionate for his liking, or even too affectionate to ever be considered appropriate. But, away from prying eyes, he did not see the harm in acquiescing in that one respect. Her skin was damp and flushed still, and some of her mascara was running. Even in such a mess of emotion, she was still beautiful, just as beautiful as he remembered her to be. Yet, something in the back of his head told him that he wanted his own Cissy more. But, who was his own Cissy?
Lucius wanted to lean down and tell her, “You’re fifteen,” or even, “What would you want with a man like me?” Because, honestly, it was a viable question: What would she want with a man like him? Even if he was to be her husband one day, why wasn’t she after the affections of his younger self? Was he not pining for her at this time? He wanted to blanch as his insides ran cold at the thought of the time period he was in: Perhaps this was a time when he hadn’t even had his eyes set on his little Narcissa, and still romped around with girls like young promiscuous men did. He knew that as he did this, Narcissa harbored a crush on him, and each time he ignored her, the worse she probably felt.
So his momentary rejection of her now was just the nail in the coffin. She didn’t think anyone would want her.
Suddenly, his mind came to the thing he wanted to say. He let his thumb brush away another tear as he gazed directly into the glazed over, blue eyes that refused to look into his. With a voice so soft and gentle, even light-hearted, he told her: ”Insecurity does not suit you.”
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Post by `narcissa virga black on Jun 14, 2011 19:07:53 GMT -5
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beautiful & dirty rich , Narcissa stopped as he rested his hand on her shoulder. She’d been biting her plump bottom lip in an attempt to keep any other forms of emotion from spilling out. What was wrong with her today? She was usually so good, besides her eyes, at hiding her emotions…when it suited her. She didn’t mind letting him or any other person know when she was annoyed if it might benefit her by getting the situation changed. But today she’d gone too far with showing how annoyed she was and then she’d been unable to hide how rejected she’d felt when he hadn’t wanted to get pleasure from her after seeing her.
She turned around to face him, but did not look into his eyes. She fixed her eyes on his left shoulder, her eyes examining the fabric there. She could fixate her attention there and distract herself from the turmoil within. There was a long silence between them though and that was more distracting than words. Words she could ignore and zone out from or have a snappish retort. Silence made her wonder what it was for. Silence made her uncomfortable. She shrugged off his hand, stepping to the side. Her eyes moved to his neck.
There she was unable to help but notice the tattoo located there. It was black and partially faded but unmistakable. The man before her had a tattoo from Azkaban prison. She had to tell herself not to touch it for her fingers wanted to move up and run along the numbers of their own accord. She gripped her skirt instead. Why had he been there? From being involved in Grindelwald’s war? She shivered slightly. Well then, even a criminal didn’t want her. That was another insult to add to the list. But what was she going to do? Write to her father? There would be no one to complain to; no one to understand how hurt she felt. She scowled at that, sniffling again.
She hadn’t noticed the tears still flowing down her cheeks until he reached a second hand up to wipe them away. Narcissa jerked her face back, her stomach clenching at the touch of his skin against hers. He was treating her like an ugly little duckling that needed his pity. She didn’t need his pity. She needed nothing from any man who didn’t want her.
She sneered at his words, the first spoken since he’d turned her around. She pointed at him, digging her manicured nail into his chest. “Shall you list the rest of my flaws, Sir? I am too short, my breasts are too small. I will always look like a child and will be unable to arouse sexual interest in even a husband, a husband who I will marry in just over a year having probably never met because none of the boys that I find suitable think of me in the same manner. I am not strong like Andromeda and I am not cunning and seductive like Bellatrix. I am beautiful like dolls kept on shelves or wives that do nothing but sit and smile and dance and act as trophy for my husband.”
Oh she was still upset. She was still biting back the tears that still, though more slowly, spilled down her cheeks. Her self-pity had turned into a frustrated anger. “But I come from an impeccable blood line. This is the first time that I have acted like anything other than a lady. You should be honored that I would ever like a questionably-bred man kiss me.”
Which would make no sense to him for a mere breath of a moment. And then stood on the tips of her toes, pulled on the front of his shirt, and pressed her lips to his. She waited for a second before pulling away. She had barely enough time to enjoy the feeling, admiring the soft skin of his lip (far softer than she’d ever guess) against hers. There wasn’t near enough time to appreciate the feeling of his slightly-unshaven skin brushing against hers or the smell of him when she was so close. And she didn’t want to, this was to prove something to him…wasn’t it?
She hadn’t known what she was doing. She had no idea where the nerve for it all had come from. She’d pressed her lips against his and stood there, struggling to remain with his eye level. It hadn’t been unpleasant, but it was nothing to gloat about.
“I can be just as appealing as any other woman if I want to. But now…now I wouldn’t want to be appealing to you. I’d rather take the fail in all honestly, Sir. I thought my first kiss would be exciting.”
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Post by lucius on Jun 14, 2011 19:53:35 GMT -5
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`a most inglorious saturday
Narcissa was so frustrated and so upset by his rejection of her. If only she had known the flurry of sensations and emotions that rushed throughout his body, first starting from the pit of his stomach and burgeoning outward like wildfire, she would have understood where she stood in relation to what he had wanted to do with her. Self-control and Lucius were like the same entity; but, even after that small and lackluster kiss, his resolve was beginning to diminish. He blamed the fact he hadn’t been near a woman in so long.
But even then, this wasn’t a woman. This was a child. The only thing that added to the confusion was the fact it was his wife.
However, as her inexperienced lips pressed themselves with a bit of uncertainty against his, he could feel the doubt wash away. Tiny pinpricks of electricity jolted throughout his body, making every cell and every bit of his skin tingle to the point where he wanted to just tear it off to make it stop. It was so amazing how the primal part of him wanted to unleash itself. He wanted to grab her roughly and ravish her on his desk. He wanted to mess her pretty hair and protect her from the wages of their sin. But he knew he couldn’t. The delusion that he suspected his mind used to calm himself, to give him escape from that awful cell, had turned into torture. A weight fell upon his chest that told him that no matter how unreal this illusion was, he couldn’t do what he wanted to with this young visage of a woman he desired so greatly.
She would regret it, oddly enough.
But Merlin, was she pushing it. She was taunting him. Apparently he would be only lucky to have a go at her. She switched from insecurity to outright cruelty. She thought her first kiss would be exciting – and Merlin only knew what images that put into his head. She was untouched. The idea of messing her became more and more appealing by the second. She thought her first kiss would be better – he had in mind to show her how exciting a kiss could be…
No, no, Lucius. Get a hold of yourself.
And yet he couldn’t. The blonde hair vixen before her was so tempting. What was worse is that, in his mind, he couldn’t help but find images of her when she was older and more accessible. He couldn’t help but see his wife in her, although he kept mentally chastising himself as a reminder that this wasn’t his wife. This was a young girl who was tempting fate. He was better than this. But Gods, who was to say he wasn’t? He was a prisoner from Azkaban, locked away for conspiracy against the government; his aspirations were for that of genocide. What would adding statutory to that count really do for him? How was it that he was immoral enough to commit murder, but in the eyes of a young girl he couldn’t bring himself to commit deviant and pleasurable sins with her? He couldn’t believe he was even considering this. His mind was confused. He wanted her to leave, and yet at the same time he didn’t.
His left hand firmly grasped itself on the side of her face, and his fingers dug themselves within the depths of her blonde locks. He could visualize himself pushing her away for her assault, yelling at her for her misconduct and order her never to come back for as long as he could live. Maybe then she would go to his younger self and try even harder to woo him. Then he wouldn’t feel like such an evil old bastard.
”Do not push me, Miss Black,” he hissed in a deadly way, barely able to meet her eyes, because, he knew that if he caught them he would be lost within them too.
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Post by `narcissa virga black on Jun 14, 2011 20:25:51 GMT -5
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beautiful & dirty rich , “Do not push me, Professor Cadmus,” Narcissa snarled with the same displeasure, the same anger that radiated from his tone. “You’ve now kissed and put your hands on an heiress that is just two weeks shy of consenting age. And it wasn’t all pleasurable for me, as I’ve already noted. Who…who would believe you?” It was easy enough to pay someone in Knocturn Alley to modify your memory; she had watched her father do it when she was little. She bared her teeth at him. She had no intentions of actually threatening him in such a way until the words slipped past her tongue. Even the way she shifted, looking around before turning her face back to him indicated the insincerity in her threat.
She looked at him for a few long moments after she’d spoken, narrowing her baby blue eyes and meeting his. It took a bit of time; he seemed to be avoiding her look. She took that as a victory. Only those who lacked confidence avoided eye contact. And with her fact caught between his grip in her hair and his grip of her cheek she could only move her head so much to accommodate for his not participating in the eye contact.
She reached her own hand up just then, grabbing a fistful of his blond locks and holding his head in place. Her other hand settled on his chest, grabbing a hold on the fabric of his shirt. He was taller than her, making the gesture awkward. He may have found it easy to take hold of her smaller frame, but Narcissa stood below him.
When she finally made eye contact, she bit her lip. Her eyes narrowed in slight confusion. She blatantly stared into them, her own starting to grow as recognition spread through her. They were grey. But it was more than that; they were the light gray of the sky after a storm or the ocean right before one. His pupil looked like a darkened moon in the middle of an ugly-grey nighttime sky. She had only every seen such eyes twice before and the second pair she had only just recently come across.
She’d first seen them the first time she’d looked into Lucius Malfoy’s eyes. He’d been sitting with Bellatrix and probably hadn’t noticed her. He’d been a third year after all and she’d been all of newly-turned twelve. He’d turned her way for the shortest second and her heart had stopped. She’d harbored affection for him every since, though each notch he carved into his bed post diminished those feelings.
The second set belonged to Draco Malfoy, her newly acquired alliance and friend. He’d caught in between her classes and had quickly declared his only interest in her had been one of friendship. At the time she’d been rather relieved to hear that. But now…now cogs were turning in her head faster than she’d ever had them doing that before.
“You have those eyes. You and Lucius and Draco. The whole lot of them!” She snarled suddenly, smacking his chest. “You’re related to them! You’re a Malfoy, aren’t you? You’ve changed your name after being released from prison, didn’t you? You’re all alike! Annoying bastards. At least Draco seemed nice when he made it clear he only wanted friendship. Lucius ignores and you reject in the most hideous of ways! I have half a mind to curse you all!”
She tried to pull away but his grip was stronger than she’d thought. She gritted her teeth, biting the inside of her bottom lip to prevent anymore tears. “I never want to see another Malfoy as long as I live. Let go of me!”
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Post by lucius on Jun 15, 2011 13:08:56 GMT -5
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`a most inglorious saturday
In a flash, her anger was threefold.
Fingers tugged themselves uncomfortably in places that they didn’t belong. He was forced down at her somewhat, as he curious blue eyes scanned and pried into his. She was looking for something, and for a long while she didn’t seem to know exactly what. But then, her face changed. She found what she had been searching for, and it upset her even more. His grip was still firm on her face and shoulder, keeping her in place even as she began to try to wriggle away. He considered letting her do so. And yet, that part of her that wanted to see her again forced him to decide against it. He didn’t know how long he would be stuck in a place like this. He didn’t know if her company would become more pleasing as time went on. He just didn’t know.
Suddenly, Lucius was overcome with anger. He grabbed her by the waist and lifted her slightly in the air, only to place her on the table beside them. He positioned himself close enough to her so that she wouldn’t get away; but, at the same time, far enough away that he didn’t seem too threatening. His eyes scanned over her face, she was on the verge of tears again. If he didn’t compose himself well, he knew that he would probably slap her. He would keep slapping her until those pretty little tears stopped. But he knew he couldn’t do that to Narcissa. So he reduced himself to yelling. ”I am not a Malfoy,” he hissed at her indignantly, his stomach churning slightly at the strangeness of how it felt saying that. He was the most proud Malfoy there ever was, and now he was reduced to denying it in front of the fifteen year old version of his lover.
Gods, this was strange.
”I don’t even know what you’re talking about, Miss Black. Gather yourself like a decent young woman and calm down. This isn’t flattering.” Lucius’ hands came around her arms and he held them tightly in place, glaring into her eyes. This was out of control. All of this was out of control. He almost wanted to confess to her that he was Lucius, and that she didn’t have to swear herself off of Malfoys forever. It would get better. Gods – how could he even assuage that doubt? She didn’t want to see another man like him again. He screwed himself over. Now he had to fix it.
He loosened his grip on her arms as his anger passed. He had to make Narcissa understand that he wasn’t rejecting her because he didn’t desire her. She had to understand that her insecurities were absolutely useless. ”What would you have me do, Narcissa?” he began, the question soft and accusatory. ”Would you have me ravish you on this table right now? That image was pleasant to his mind. He paused for a moment to lull on it; but, not for long. He needed to focus.
”Merlin, Miss Black, do you really think that I would reduce you down to a toy? Do you think I would not respect your decency, would you expect me to insult your intelligence like that?” More urgently, he squeezed her arm and forced her to look into his eyes. They were pleading; but, not desperate. He wanted her to see reason. ”You are worth much more than that. I’m not rejecting you. I’m respecting you.”
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Post by `narcissa virga black on Jun 15, 2011 21:43:06 GMT -5
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beautiful & dirty rich , The man before her was so fiercely against being a Malfoy that it was raising questions in her mind faster than she could focus on them. She was convinced, despite his apparent detestation of being one, that he was part of the infamous family. Perhaps he was afraid of the school knowing who he really was. He could have killed many, many people after all. People didn’t get locked away in Azkaban for little crimes. Maybe he wanted to be completely detached from his family. She’d ask Draco about him. Though she had taken notice of his rejection of her she appreciated his honesty in wanting to be just friends. Maybe this man was his uncle and would have details about him, details Professor was unwilling to share.
When Narcissa’s backside hit the hard wood of his desk, she winced slightly. His arms around her and the pain throbbing from her tail bone were hard to ignore, even as she was forced to focus on his words. She couldn’t help it, the way he held her. She slumped like a small child being chastised. She wiggled her nose, scrunching up her face in the only form of physical reaction she could muster (though, she could have stuck her tongue out but that would seem childish to the man before her, a man she longed to see her as an adult suddenly). She took a few deep breaths, following his orders to calm done.
He was right, her reaction wasn’t flattering and this wasn’t like her at all to be so violent and moody. She’d gone from angry to nervous to upset and right back to angry in about half an hour. How could he play her like this? Why could he cause such reactions like this?
When he loosened his grip on her arms she looked down, biting her lip. Her face was red again (she should have forgone makeup, especially blush, this morning), this time because of shame. She wanted to explain herself, tell him why she’d said what she’d said and behaved how she had. This wasn’t like herself. He was causing her mind to rebel. Maybe it was because he was a young and attractive teacher; she’d never had one of those before. Perhaps it was because he had this air of dominance that she just wanted to reach out and cling to. She couldn’t explain that; she wanted to squash it, bite into it and bury herself in it, and run from it all at once.
But before she could open her mouth he was speaking again, forcing her to look into his eyes. This caused her heart to race again because those eyes were familiar to her and called to her. There was something hidden behind them, something he wasn’t saying through all his pretty words.
She went to speak again and found herself choking on her words. When she was finally about to form them, she placed the palms of her hands on his chest.
“Why am I Miss Black again?” She asked, though that hadn’t meant to be her first question or even her first words. She cleared her throat. “I don’t…I’m not usually like this. I don’t do anything unflattering.” That hadn’t been what she’d meant to say either. She was bungling her words and she wanted to explain that that that wasn’t her usual style either
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Instead, in embarrassment, she buried her head into his neck. That way he couldn’t be able to see the look in her eyes or the color on her cheeks. And she could breathe in that delightful cologne. She felt comfortable there and wanted him to stop holding her arms and hold her. She liked being held; she had always been close to her father, though she didn’t want to compare the man before her to him.
“I didn’t think you’d ravish me, that wasn’t what I expected of you. I was going to…expecting you to…I know you can use your hands…and mouth…I think…I mean to say others have told me…girls have told me… girls in my year, my dorm…” She had to pause to re-gather her thoughts. “In return for my grades. And you are rejecting me, no matter if it’s because I’m not sexy or because you respect me. You’ve known me for all of an hour and you have no reason to respect me. And…and…”
She shifted, burying her face into his neck as she let slip another defense. “I at least thought you would kiss me back and not stand there in full proof of my lack of... I shouldn’t have kissed you, it didn’t calm my emotions. I was supposed to save that kiss for someone special and now…well now I just find the business all lackluster.”
Still buried in his neck, curled against him, she whispered, “will you still make me do lines?”
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