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Post by lucius on Jun 15, 2011 22:37:32 GMT -5
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`a most inglorious saturday
Lucius was entirely powerless when she had finally sunk into his body, burying that tiny head of hers into the crook of his neck. How could he push her away without invoking another onslaught of tears and anger? He didn’t know how to react to her. Within the deepest depths of his heart, he wanted to cradle her in his arms and comfort her until she felt happy enough to stand on her own two feet again. But, his mind wouldn’t let him. He knew that was wrong. What consequences could possibly come as a result of screwing with time? Merlin, did he finally come to terms with the idea that he had been taken back to the past? He didn’t know what to think. He didn’t know which way was up. His arms wrapped themselves around her waist, light enough to be comforting; but, distant enough so that it didn’t look wrong. She continued to speak whatever came to her mind, most of it being jumbled thoughts and insecurities about assumptions and expectations she had about their meeting. What had he done, really? He didn’t intend for any of this. He had wanted to just observe her from a distance, bemused to himself about how strange it was to be in the presence of someone you hadn’t seen for so long.
He kept her in his arms for a long while until he forced himself to pull away from her tiny form. Her cheeks were flushed and dampened from her tears. Make up was running, hair was messed… by all means, she didn’t look her best. But, Merlin, he didn’t care. He reached into his vest pocket and produced a handkerchief he used to wipe away some of the wetness. He offered it to her after that, to do as she pleased. There were a lot of things she needed to understand about him, about that situation.
”Narcissa,” he started, thinking that perhaps the use of her first name would make her feel slightly better, ”I’m at least forty-two years old. Why would you ever want to kiss me? I could be your father.” That was a chilling realization, the fact that he was old enough to have fathered her twice over and yet, at the same time, he was her future husband. He wished he could have separated this Narcissa and his Narcissa into two separate entities; but, the feat was rather impossible. After all, it was Narcissa in this form that he had fallen in love with, and continued to love even as she grew older. To him, he could easily see his Narcissa being younger, and this Narcissa being older. That’s what made it all the more difficult to resist temptation.
What was worse is that she was right about the respect. He didn’t know how he could say that to her, or give her a good reason as to why he did respect her. Lucius couldn’t acknowledge her as the woman he had decided to spend the rest of his life with. He didn’t know what more to do than to just lie to her – ”I don’t need to know you to respect you,” he explained, letting his hands rest on her arms. ”You are a clever, pretty young woman. Why would I even remotely want to reduce you to something that you are not? A Mudblood would only sink herself down to that level – I know you are not that.” That was truly something that Lucius believed, despite the fact many of the girls he had slept with when he was young were pureblooded girls. Being a slut didn’t transcend bloodlines. And yet, he couldn’t bring himself to believe that. Prejudices and all that.
He moved away from her at that moment, still standing close enough so that she didn’t feel like he was abandoning her. She didn’t need that – and he didn’t need to deal with another outburst. ”I’m not going to make you do lines,” he reassured her, frowning slightly as he looked over her sullen face. ”But, I do think we need to talk about your behavior in regards to… how you wanted to resolve your grades with me.” And that was true. He was worried that she would throw herself at him on that. It didn’t feel like the Narcissa he knew.
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Post by `narcissa virga black on Jun 15, 2011 23:10:13 GMT -5
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beautiful & dirty rich , “My father is nearly in his fifties,” Narcissa said, as if that would his assuage his feelings about being nearly twice her age. She felt the need to comfort him in that sense, though she shouldn’t have had to do so. Her father was indeed several years older and he’d been hardly hitting puberty when he’d married Druella. If he had waited to a decent age to begin to attempt producing heirs he could have been much older than the man standing before her.
And then there was the not so little fact of the age differences that often littered the Pureblood community. It was almost as rampant as incest, for one to marry a girl half a man’s age. Older men often had more money, more connections, and were better matches. Girls who had just stepped out of Hogwarts’ gates were fresh, virginal, and ready for their husband’s molding. Love matches were most uncommon. Many girls in her year would be married off to older gentlemen. “My husband will probably be your age,” She said, looking away. She ran the handkerchief beneath her eyes, trying to get the worst of the running makeup from her face. “And I will probably be engaged to him before my next birthday. My father has spoken to Lord Crabbe. He is most eager to replace his poor, deceased wife. And he has made it rather clear he wishes for more sons…and a Breaching ceremony.”
That little fact was one she had not shared with a soul yet, keeping it deep in her chest. The idea made her lightheaded and nauseas. The man was large, disgusting, and far too fond of firewhisky. The Breaching ceremony was one that had been popular in times past. The Pureblood lord would take his bride during an engagement feast in front of everyone. It was vulgar and almost unheard of nowadays…but there were still a few who preferred too much of the old ways.
His comments on respecting her went to great lengths to comfort her mood and restore her ego to it’s usual bloated self. His compliments finally ceased all the tears that still ran down her cheeks, finally letting her efforts to clean herself up become effective. His words were sincere and his touch was far more comforting than she’d tell anyone else. She was aware of the distance she put between them. He was trying to tell her firmly that he wasn’t going to do anything, especially kiss her. That idea had formed in her head of its own accord and she squished it down. Kissing had already proven to be less than fun.
She was as equally relieved to hear that she wouldn’t be doing lines as she was upset to hear that he wanted to know where she’d gotten her ideas. Her eyes went wide and she returned right back to the red, blushing color she’d finally been able to squish down and start to reduce.
She stuttered, twisting his handkerchief in her little hands.
It wasn’t her idea, she reassured herself. This one had not formed out of her, imagined from some ugly part of herself.
“Many of the girls…in my dorm. The ones that talk about using their mouths on men’s…” she looked for a word, finding a gesture to be too vulgar. “Maypole. They say that there are certain teachers here who will raise grades that simply cannot be fixed for sexual favors. When I mentioned that I was to serve a detention until after dinner…well a few of them may have suggested that that was the sort of thing that would be required of me. I thought nothing of it but you made several gestures and phrases sound and look sexual…and I’m not the one who usually imagines sexual deviancy so I had to believe my instinct that that was the sort of respect you wanted of me.”
She chewed on the inside of her cheek, afraid that one more sharp bite to her plump bottom lip would cause it to bleed.
“I don’t want to disappointment my family, Sir. And I figured that if I was to have to do these…things, I would prefer it to be you instead of Lord Crabbe or Professor Slughorn. You are younger and far more attractive, that being fact versus my opinion.”
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Post by lucius on Jun 18, 2011 13:18:15 GMT -5
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`a most inglorious saturday
Lucius hadn’t forgotten about the betrothal. It haunted him when they were children, and he almost didn’t go through with marrying her because of it. The very idea that his Narcissa would have gone into the arms of another man, willing or not, was not a pleasant thought. But, he knew better. He knew that she wouldn’t get married to Lord Crabbe. He knew that she would propose to her and she wouldn’t be forced to go through the same things that many young pureblood women would. He knew that she would marry him in a grand handfasting ceremony, wearing an extravagant white dress, with tiara to match. There were a great deal many things that he knew. He just couldn’t tell her. Even if he did, would she even believe him?
He didn’t know how much things had changed. She had swore herself off of Malfoys for the rest of eternity. But, she had done that before, hadn’t she? He couldn’t remember. He wasn’t sure if he could even fuck with the timeline at all. From what he could understand, his role in her life could have been entirely inconsequential. He didn’t want to be reckless, though. Consequences could occur. He could end up in a future where Narcissa had been given away to Lord Crabbe, and he was alone… or perhaps married to someone else. What if it were Bellatrix? He wanted to shudder. He couldn’t imagine a married life with that woman. He didn’t know how Rudolph did it.
”That’s not going to happen to you,” he told her, trying to sound comforting. He had retracted his arms to his sides at this point. He didn’t know how much he could touch her before it gave her ideas. She had expressed her attraction to him, how if he really was the wretched old man she expected, it would have at least been a pleasant experience. But, that was obvious. In what ways could she not be attracted to him? She already pined for his younger self. Narcissa was just looking at the result of years that had gone by. He still looked like him, just a little better.
The only issue that could come up if she began to prefer the older version… He didn’t know how he could handle that.
”You’re a beautiful young lady,” he said, emphasizing the bit about the “young lady” part. He wanted to makes sure she understood the differences between him and her. They weren’t just minimal, even if the Pureblood standard didn’t care the difference between a fifteen and forty two year old. It bugged him a little… not a lot; but, just enough to make him hesitate. ”Do you know how lucky any boy would be to have a girlfriend like you?”
He was being honest. Lucius couldn’t tell her; but, he truly was blessed in finding her. She was different than most of the girls he had dated in time. She was a lady: sophisticated and elegant. She wanted him, he could tell; but, she never gave herself to him. He had to chase her, to earn her, which was a first for him. Usually girls threw themselves to his feet. But, Narcissa was different. She was the first girl he had ever truly wanted and kept wanting even after he had her. She was like a valuable prize for his constant diligence. He had to jump through so many hoops to prove himself worthy… which was so strange. Usually Lucius always knew he was worthy. With Narcissa, not so sure.
”Trust me, a nice boy here will pick you up and marry you before your father even has to think of betrothal.”
He didn’t like exactly how nice he was being. Normally, he didn’t care about the plights of others. But the very sight of Narcissa melted his insides to the very core. He couldn’t help but try to nurture her. He just hoped this didn’t seem like something he would do with other students…
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Post by `narcissa virga black on Jun 18, 2011 14:01:40 GMT -5
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beautiful & dirty rich , Narcissa looked down, taking his words with stride. Her fingers still tugged and pulled on the little handkerchief, her fingers searching for some sort of embroidery. There were no marks, just the plain white cloth. It wasn’t silk or satin, but it was a rather soft material It had been perfectly unmarked until she’d gotten her makeup on it, patches of black and pale peach and glitter spread out across it. It was damp from her tears. She was far more interested in the piece of cloth than she was in hearing him patronize her. He didn’t even appreciate how embarrassed she’d been to make her confession to him, to talk about certain parts of his anatomy and how they could interact with her own.
Of course she was a beautiful little lady; all pale, blue eyed-blonde haired, prettily dressed, and a mature air where the mischievous look of adolescence should have been. She was a perfect wife, even just on the verge of being sixteen. She was like a well-bred horse. The boys her age, the ones who would grow up to be eligible bachelors who would make find husbands, didn’t want a wife. They wanted a flirty, sexy woman who wanted to party and sleep around. They wanted the kind of girls that would one day grow up to be the mistresses of the respectable-seeming husbands that would marry girls like Narcissa.
“Perhaps you could explain that to them, Professor. Because the girls these lucky boys want are far from who I am. Though...I wouldn’t want you to give them advice on actually getting the women. As much experience as you’ve probably had…I wouldn’t peg you as being a man who knows all about the fairer sex…or keeping them happy.”
She kept looking down, not wanting to meet his eyes. She wouldn’t believe it if anyone had told her Professor Cadmus was a star with her sex. His kiss…she was still far too focused on that little lackluster meeting of flesh. At first she’d merely guessed all kisses would be like that, but now that she had a bit of alone time in her head where she wasn’t screaming or sobbing she supposed it was just because he was a bad kisser. She felt sure this was an indicator of his lack of ability to speak to women, along with the vibe she’d gotten from him all morning so far.
She let out an exasperated sigh, slipping down from the table and bending to pick up her things again. She stroked the leather strap to her bag, tucking the handkerchief in a pocket. After a moment passed between them, she looked up a little. Her eyes shifted from one side of the room to the other, staying anywhere but on him.
“I’m sure he will as well,” She muttered, though her tone with thick with sarcasm. She had little hope, now, for the one she wanted. Her father would no doubt be working on contracts come this Christmas vacation if she hadn’t even started to find her own match. “Are you done with your little motivational speech, Professor? Because I feel as if we’re done.”
She stepped towards the door, still not looking up at him. She didn’t know where she stood with him anymore, except that she wasn’t going to get her grades fixed and he didn’t want her. So why was she even still there? There was no reason, no reason at all. She didn’t want to be there anymore. She didn’t want to go to his class on Monday or see him ever again.
Her tone was apathetic and blank as she finally looked up, looking at the spot behind his head- it let her eyes glaze over her boredom and lack interest. “May I be dismissed?”
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Post by lucius on Jun 29, 2011 3:26:25 GMT -5
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`a most inglorious saturday
It didn’t help. Of course it didn’t help, how could he have expected it to? From him, it just sounded like some condescending speech about how one day everything would be rainbows and kittens and she wouldn’t have to worry anymore. To her ears, it was just an even politer rejection. You are good enough, just not good enough for me; she probably thought he was saying. There was a great deal of things he wanted to say to her at this point. How could he, though? At this point, it was probably best for him to let her walk away from him defeated. It was probably better if she never spoke to him again and tried her luck with his younger counterpart. He knew it was better that way. It wasn’t just better; it was how things were supposed to be.
But, if that were the case, then why did it felt so awful?
Lucius was alone. He was alone in this place, and he would have been alone back in his own time. To be around Narcissa again gave him a rush of happiness that he hadn’t felt in a while. His life had been short of joy as of late, being locked away in Azkaban with no hope of ever seeing his beloved ever again. He often dreamed in his lonely cell of nights he spent with her, wrapped up together far away from prying eyes. It was the only time he had ever truly felt free. Isolated in that damned tower, patrolled by Dementors, sucked every last bit of bliss that he could retain – so much so that it was becoming harder and harder to be satisfied only with memories. Now, he truly was free; but, at what cost? He was still alone and his memories were still not enough to sate him. He felt as empty on the inside as he did imprisoned.
But, when he was with Narcissa, even if she were this young, that small bit of joy returned. He was reluctant to give it away. He was hesitant to force himself into loneliness again. He missed his wife. He was too selfish to do the right thing, he knew. As each second, the will to do the right thing dissolved, with his wants and desires filling itself in its place. The more he watched Narcissa move, and the farther away she pushed herself away from him, the more he had wanted her. His hands were itching for her skin again. He wanted to hold her, he wanted to caress her and he wanted to kiss her again. He wanted so many things he couldn’t have.
Gods, was this how Snape felt every day?
Lucius heard himself dismiss her; but, the words fell out of his mouth and it didn’t even feel like he had done it. He had separated himself so far away as he accessed the situation. Now he was pressed for time and unsure of what to do. She was already beginning to leave and he was frightened out of his mind. His gut churned with uncertainty and his body began to move of its own accord. The more primal and needy side of him had decided on its own. It realized there was no time to think, and that it didn’t matter. He wanted her here. He didn’t want to lose her now. Not again. Never again.
Lucius’s arms wrapped themselves around her as he lowered himself to the ground. The embrace was brief, but tight, as his lips pressed themselves against her ear. He began to whisper to her, his voice thick with sincerity: ”You are welcome to come see me any time you wish, Narcissa.” Before he could even stop himself, it was done. He released her and turned away, walking toward his desk.
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Post by `narcissa virga black on Jun 29, 2011 14:48:50 GMT -5
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beautiful & dirty rich , The sense of relief that washed over Narcissa as her new professor dismissed her was smaller and less pleasing then she thought it would be. She’d been focused on hiding all of her emotions now that he’d insulted her and forced her to show them. Didn’t her mother tell her often how wrong her temper was? Perhaps she should listen to the woman more often. Then, perhaps, she wouldn’t find herself in this mess or in any of the messes she seemed to wind up in. She’d been so focused and so determined just now that the sense of relief was dulled. A twinge of regret for asking to be dismissed, for hearing him dismiss her, shot through her heart. She looked down and busied herself making sure her bag was perfectly packed and sealed. She was no emotional masochist. She wouldn’t submit herself to him for another rejection. She wouldn’t let herself.
She pulled her jacket on, sliding only one of the two ivory circles through their button holes. She fixed her sleeves beneath the silk lining of the jacket and then straightened her skirt. She whipped under her eyes and around her lips with her fingers (she’d forgotten about the handkerchief he’d lent her, still tucked inside the bag). Her makeup must have been a mess, but she wasn’t going to pull her compact out and reapply it in front of him. She wanted to leave him behind and go back to her common room. She never wanted to enter his classroom again. So why was she putting off leaving?
She turned around and finally planned on making her way towards the door. She was still looking down, still determined to not see him again or look at him or Merlin forbid stare longingly at him again. Her plans were foiled because her chest collided with something rather hard not a second later. She thought, hoped, that she’d walked into a wall. She’d rather be embarrassed then have it be the only other option.
That was what she told herself as she looked up. Her eyes were level with his chest, which was covered in a rather expensive shirt. She had a fine enough eye to be able to note the weak and to also note that his clothing had been tailored for a man of slightly different measurements. Weight could be explained, but this shirt was surely made for someone the slightest bit shorter and the somewhat more broad shouldered. She wanted to say something, but the only place her sudden fear and intimidation and confusion was her lips. They were shaking and even biting them didn’t really help.
Her whole body shivered as his arms wrapped around her and he sunk down slightly. He was so very close, closer than he had been earlier. She could feel him through her shirt and brassier; his upper chest was firm and taught. It felt masculine.There was no other word for her to use to describe him. She closed her eyes.
“Professor,” she began, her voice hardly more than a whisper. But then his face was against her neck, against her ear. The touch of his lips was tender, but as he whispered against the spot it caused gooseflesh to erupt down her neck and arms. She tilted her head to the side without thinking, squashing whatever she was going t say. She moved one arm, the one not holding onto her bag. She was going to place her hand on his chest. She wanted to turn her head and meet eyes. But then he was gone and she was left there feeling like a fool.
She tightened her jaw, her fist gripping her bag even more tightly. ”And why would I ever have need to come back to you? Why would I ever subject myself to that?”
Narcissa rushed towards the door, pulled it open, and slammed it behind her. She caught her breath and buried her face in her hands for the smallest moment. After a few seconds she looked down to both ends of the hall and ran. She didn’t stop running until she was safely sitting in her dorm room.
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