how can i catch up when i don't want to? [LUCIUS.]

[`narcissa virga black]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style,background-color: #d3d1d1; background:url(http://i53.tinypic.com/sutzmh.jpg); width: 300px; height: 400px; -moz-border-radius: 2em; border-radius: 2em; -webkit-border-radius: 2em; border: #d3d1d1 3px solid;] beautiful & dirty rich , Narcissa Black stared into the black liquid floating around in her cauldron. Her anger had become apathy by the twenty-minute mark. By the time she’d hit the last half-hour of class she was the poster-child for frustration. She’d even pulled her curls into a tight dancers’ bun, keeping them safe away from what was supposed to be an extremely powerful poison antidote potion. Now, as the class stretched far past the final bell (and remarks were made to the group that was still left that all students would not be permitted to leave until their potion was complete) she was starting to tear up. It was her last class of the day, the day before her sixteenth birthday. And of course, as it always seemed to be, she was stuck in potion’s class. And of course she was struggling. She was nowhere near done and her potion was nowhere near the pale pink color that the liquid was supposed to be. It was, rather, the color of fresh soil. There were three students left in the classroom and she’d long ago been the only Slytherin remaining. She’d been avoiding her professor ever since her detention with him. She’d been unable to meet his eyes since then and it took everything she could to even look at him during lessons. Every time she even thought about the encounter her heart sped up and she couldn’t breathe. The damned man had given her anxiety, making her nervous and fearful of a class she’d been more apathetic about (until she’d truly begun feeling it). She didn’t like to listen as the girls in her common room discussed him, unable to stand the mixtures of apprehension and jealousy that rang through her each time she heard his name mentioned. She couldn’t help but wonder if he treated those girls as he did her or if he had really kissed one of them. There was another thing she couldn’t help and that was the dreams that had begun. She’d had pleasant dreams about Lucius before, soft kisses and gentle hand-holding on dates. She’d liked those. Her mind, now, drifted to something else entirely now. She pictured her teacher standing between her legs again, grabbing her again, kissing her again. She could feel him against her chest, kissing and breathing against her ear again. She woke up hot, uncomfortable, and some sort of nameless ache. She’d worked her best each morning, however, to maintain her perfected look. She spent hours in the mirror, at night, working on keeping her face cold, austere, and apathetic. She’d dressed cleanly, tying back her hair with a simple black ribbon. However, despite her deep seated need to pretend the morning had never happened, there had been a change. Her usual pale lips, usually only ever colored with lipgloss or lipbalm were now red. It had begun the first day she had returned to potions. She’d had the tube of red lipstick from some party or dinner or something that past summer. She’d stolen the cosmetic from her eldest sister and had kept it in the very bottom of her makeup box ever since. Narcissa couldn’t help the need, now, to look older…to look sexier. And as much as she feared looked gauche and grotesque she hadn’t. Her pale features, her clean-cut appearance only enhanced the look. The color wasn’t bright red but nor was it blood red. It favored the middle of the spectrum, working well with the youngest Black. She’d been waiting for any message from her family wishing her a happy birthday. She’d been hoping for a kitten. She’d mentioned this little fact to her mother and father several times since she’d begun her summer last year but neither of them had made any hint towards getting her the white-furred pet she so longed for. In fact, her mother had merely asked if she preferred diamonds or pearls. For once, Narcissa wanted neither. Every meal, when she wasn’t trying to avoid looking at Professor Cadmus, she waited patiently for a letter or little box. But she hadn’t been at dinner this evening, her potion’s exam going long past the seven o’clock hour. None of the students had been able to leave the test for dinner, but many had been able to scramble out to get a few bites of desert and find food from their friends. The clock chimed nine o’clock as she looked up, panicking. The last student was handing in his phial of his potion (the right color, she noted with a frown). He packed up his bag and cleaned his station, offering Narcissa a sympathetic look as he escaped. And then there were two. She avoided looking at Professor Cadmus, her fingers fumbling through pages as she tried to read her little bottles of ingredients. It might have made sense to merely start over and not go through the steps of fixing the damned thing but she was no longer thinking straight. Her feet ached from the high heeled shoes she wore and her stomached growled. She’d have given anything for a cup of tea or glass of water. She was undone, her sweater dropped onto the floor and one stocking starting to slip down her petite leg. The only thing, apparently, that remained intact was her lipstick. Narcissa stared into the liquid for a second, ignoring the gooseflesh rising on her arms. She then, as swift as a bird, picked up her text book and tossed the damned thing into her cauldron. It bubbled, eating away at the paper faster than she thought possible. The smallest amount splashed onto her hand, leaving an angry black piece of flesh on the side of her hand. It began to crack and fall away, revealing red and bloody flesh. She hissed, clutching the appendage to her chest. She wobbled to his desk, standing very still for a moment. She mustered up her well practiced collected and cool visage, finally looking at him. “May I have a phial for my potion? I think I’m quite done now.” WORDS: 1,009 credit to hay shay ! at caution 2.0

[/td][/tr][/table]

[lucius]

In the time that he had been separated from Narcissa, he had assimilated into Hogwarts life successfully. He had also gathered himself quite a reputation as being the biggest bastard on campus, one to rival Severus in their time. He was well hated, which was something he preferred, since it made it so he had more time to himself to reflect, or to dwell in some well-deserved peace. Though, as of late, being alone with his thoughts had become more of a nuisance than anything. Sleeping was no longer an option, simply because his libido plagued him like an unwavering beast. Nocturnal emissions were of course filled with images of his own wife, with the Little Narcissa making debuts of her own. Whenever he saw her there, her tiny form breathing heavily on top of his own body, he awoke in a flurry of anger, embarrassment, and revulsion. Quickly, he would remove the memory from his mind and lock it into a pensieve that slowly began to fill itself with thoughts that would most certainly get him in trouble if anyone got a bit too nosey.

These unresolved desires turned themselves into anger, which he would take out on his students, particularly the Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors. He had run ins with his own House – something he was surprised with, when had Slytherin become so insolent? – but the brunt of his abuse came upon students that so happened to say the wrong thing, or look at him the wrong way. He didn’t know how he felt about teaching; but, having a ready supply of weak and vulnerable children that he could strike fear into? It was a nice way to channel his aggression. If anything, he wished he could be done with this castle; but, where could he go, and what could he possibly do? He had no options. As each day passed, he began to miss his own time more and more. Even if it meant being in Azkaban, it was better than being trapped here.

That day, he had given a particularly grueling test to his students. They were brewing an Amortentia potion (oh yes, his mind was still stuck on that), which was something he had given no instruction on. He stated to them that he wished them to create the potion of their volition and determination – to see if there were any natural potion brewers in his class. As they brewed, he would pace about the room, gazing over their shoulders, while sneering, or making jarring comments. A student knew they were doing fine if he didn’t say anything to them. Silence was always a good thing. There were very little explosions, thankfully, minus the one Hufflepuff that stirred counterclockwise instead of clockwise for five minutes. He was chastised, thrown out of the classroom, and given detention with Filtch for the next two weeks – really, couldn’t the idiot read?

It was during this time that Lucius pointedly ignored Narcissa for his own sanity, perhaps hers also. But, as time droned on, it was becoming harder to do so as the number of students within the classroom began to dwindle. He sat himself behind his desk, distracting himself with a book, when it was only himself and Narcissa left within the confines of the empty, abysmal room. His ears were keen to her moans and grunts of dissatisfaction, and couldn’t help but look up as he heard her slam her potion’s book into the cauldron. There was a small flash, a wince, and a bit of blood, before the girl stood before him, holding her hand against her chest, demanding that she be allowed to leave. Lucius looked down at her, scowling a little, as he grabbed her hand and tore it from hiding.

”You’re bleeding,” he said, almost sounding as if he blamed her for it. He reached into his pocket and produced a handkerchief. With it, he began to slowly dab away the blood from her wound, scowling as he began to get a closer look at the small, throbbing gash on her otherwise flawless and pale hand. He wrapped the handkerchief around it once, placing her other hand on top of it to keep it in place as he rose from his seat. ”Hold that,” he told her firmly. He reached for his wand, which was placed higher up from his desk, as he pointed it toward one of the open cabinets. ”Accio, Dittany.” From the cabinet, and quickly to his hand, came a small bottle and dropper. Lucius sat again, removing the handkerchief from her hand. He unstoppered the bottle, looking at her briefly, as he began to squeeze a few drops of Dittany onto her wound. ”This will sting,” he said unnecessarily, seeing as he had already began to apply it to her. He didn’t want to give her the chance to back out; as if she had a choice. Soon enough, the skin around the gash began to mend itself. In its wake, only a small, irritated spot was left behind. He would have told her, “I doubt it will scar,” but, he found himself incapable, since he didn’t exactly feel the desire to comfort her at that moment.

Lucius set the Dittany aside, wiping his eyes briefly as he let out a loud sigh. ”What were you thinking?” he muttered to himself more than her, not even wanting to glance over at the obvious mess she had left behind at her desk.

[`narcissa virga black]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style,background-color: #d3d1d1; background:url(http://i53.tinypic.com/sutzmh.jpg); width: 300px; height: 400px; -moz-border-radius: 2em; border-radius: 2em; -webkit-border-radius: 2em; border: #d3d1d1 3px solid;] beautiful & dirty rich , All Narcissa had wanted from the insufferable man before her was a phial. He had them all lined up with their names etched into the glass to prevent cheating. Slughorn was much more trusting of his students. At the beginning of an exam he handed out the glass tubes and stoppers, along with sticky little pieces of paper that the students could scribble their name onto. Those tags never quite stayed on perfectly, but rather flapped about and slid down. They were rather easy to switch if someone else managed to distract the tubby professor from being a proper proctor. He also didn’t sit in silence and stare down his nose at the students as they fumbled for their supplies. Narcissa had never believed she would miss the man, but she did. Anything would be better then, right now, standing in front of this Professor Phineas as he began to patch her up. She’d intended to get her stupid phial, fail the exam, and then run off to the Infirmary. “No I’m not,” She said, meaning to pull her hand away from his but finding his grip rather too strong to get away from. She wondered where he’d gotten that muscle and decided it was probably in Prison. He looked too well bred to be doing manual labor before this and was definitely old enough to be out of any Quidditch league for some time. “It’s cherry syrup.” She gritted her teeth as he continued t work, wasting another of his handkerchiefs on her. She still had his other one, though she’d moved it from her bag into her bedside drawer. She should have thrown it away, but she’d found herself preferring to lock it away under an old copy of her mother’s ‘Lady Celestial’s Guide to a Proper Witch’s Etiquette’. No one would know, if they were to come across it layout around, who it belonged to, but Narcissa would; she could not look at it but nor could she part with it. But overall, she was still angry and upset with the ban before her. Narcissa watched the dittany hover over t the desk, licking her bright red lips (she could still taste the trace of lipstick on them). She was all too familiar with the substance. Though it was the fastest and probably the best method at the moment she would have preferred to run to Madame Pomfrey in hopes of a less painful method. Narcissa was not a fan of pain, no matter how miniscule or slight. His warning came too late, though it wasn’t needed. She hissed, her hand jerking back in an instinctual reaction to get the appendage away from the source of pain. Once again, it stayed in place. She gritted her teeth through the stinging sensation. “I’m quite aware of the effects, Professor. I did grow up with Bellatrix Black.” That was the reason she was so familiar with dittany, healing potions, and even small charms. She’d been bitten and sliced and stung and kicked ever since she’d been born. Narcissa had always been her eldest sister’s favorite too, but that hadn’t prevented the milieu of injuries and bouts of violence the blonde had suffered from. Bella was still violent in her displays of affection; she dug her nails into the arms of those she hugged and pulled hairs out of ‘Cissa’s head when she went to pet or stroke it. Very few would come close enough to know that. She preferred to stare at the quickly-closing wound then up at her Professor just then…or any time that this could occur again. She’d been doing so well at avoiding him until this moment. But she couldn’t stay silent as he rudely muttered to himself about her. People who muttered like that deserved to get a hot wood poker to their tongues, or at least that’s what Narcissa’s governess had drilled into her head. She’d never been threatened with the glowing piece of metal, but her eldest sibling had. It had stuck with her. “What if I’d been allergic to that?” She asked, using her good hand to point to the glass bottle that was still on his desk. “You could have killed me. All I wanted was a phial because I was thinking that I was done with this inane test and your presence in general.” She took a sharp inhale, having rocked her ankle slightly and been rewarded with a sting of pain from that end of her body as well. She was indeed done. “Now I have made it quite clear I don’t like you touching me and I don’t want your help. All I want is the phial. I was expecting an important letter from my mother at dinner concerning a cat, which I have clearly missed and I will now have to wait until morning to eat. “ She pulled her hand out of his, suddenly rather aware that he’d been holding it in his unoccupied hand even after it had been mostly healed (it itched and still stung, though most of the pain had gone away by that point). “And Mister Malfoy will no doubt be looking for me by now and I’d rather prefer we didn’t fight in front of you.” WORDS: 875 credit to hay shay ! at caution 2.0

[/td][/tr][/table]

[lucius]

”You’re welcome,” he intoned loudly, still rubbing his eyes. If there was one thing he hated, it was being unappreciated for the selfless acts he would commit from time to time. Perhaps he would do more of them if people had been more grateful. Either way, her bratiness began to grate on his nerves until he swore he would have thrown her out of his classroom, violently at that. Yet, there was a small part of him that nagged for her to remain there with him, and ached for other things also, so he kept control. That did not mean he would keep silent, however. If she wished for a verbal joust, then she could have one. She wasn’t the only one that was frustrated. She didn’t understand a lot of things about him, and yet he was certain that he knew everything about her. That only made him feel even more isolated.

Lucius’ legs crossed themselves, and he took a quick glance at the Dittany that she had pointed at indignantly, claiming that he was being thoughtless. ”No one is allergic to dittany,” he said, sounding haughtier than he had meant to. He supposed that was his inner professor baring itself to her, showing that he had knowledge of these subjects, more so than she did, and any of her attempts to try to guilt him would easily be thwarted. To be honest, his knowledge of her childhood run ins with her eldest sister had led him to think of using dittany in the first place. Of course, she wouldn’t be allowed to know that. So many secrets he had to keep. Again, he was feeling a deeper kinship with Severus by the second.

When she had continued on about how much she just wanted to phial her potion, he couldn’t help but chuckle just a little. Did she honestly believe he would allow her to do that? ”I’m not giving you a phial,” he told her firmly, glancing at the blackened, still bubbling concoction that sat upon her desk. ”You’ll have to come in on a Saturday and make up the test again, correctly this time.” He supposed that was his way of telling her that he didn’t want her to fail; but, in reality, it was because he wanted to see her again. Lucius was slowly beginning to come to terms with the idea of getting closer to her now, despite the fact that his conscious told him that not only was it a stupid idea, but an evil one at that. Who knew what consequences could come of it? At the time, Lucius didn’t care. He was welling too much with need to be with her again, that he would damn whatever consequence that dare show its face. He had been suffering for so long – didn’t he deserve just a bit of joy, for once?

But, then, at that moment, his thoughts were interrupted by the mention of a “Mister Malfoy.” Well, there was only one that he could think of – and it wasn’t him, in a sense. Unwittingly, his stomach churned slightly in revulsion. He couldn’t believe it; but, he could swear that he was beginning to feel a bit of envy – what’s more, it was at himself, which was an odd thing in and of itself. He knew this was how things had to be; but, he hated how alone that made him feel again. Narcissa was his wife, and although this wasn’t exactly her, it still felt like her in some ways. What was worse, he wanted her, too, and he didn’t want his younger self to be wooing her just yet.

”I thought you swore yourself off of Malfoys,” he commented blithely, letting his eyebrow quirk up. Of course, he couldn’t let her know all about this emotional war raging inside his head. While his mind was entirely muddled and ubiquitous, his outer shell was cool, collected, even bemused. ”Finally got to you, did he?” He grinned a little at that, although his ulterior motives were not as playful. He was prodding for information at this point, trying to gather where their relationship was, so he could assess this situation as it stood. He was so caught up by her sudden interest in Malfoy that he had pushed his knowledge of how he understood her birthday was coming away, even though his understanding of it meant nothing. He couldn’t acknowledge that until she let that information become privy to him, she would just become more suspicious, even frightened.

Lucius didn’t want that.

"Regardless," he drawled, looking absolutely beside himself with amusement. "What do you mean, "in front of me"? There's nothing to be seen, Miss Black."

[`narcissa virga black]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style,background-color: #d3d1d1; background:url(http://i53.tinypic.com/sutzmh.jpg); width: 300px; height: 400px; -moz-border-radius: 2em; border-radius: 2em; -webkit-border-radius: 2em; border: #d3d1d1 3px solid;] beautiful & dirty rich , Narcissa took the subtle put downs with stride. And by with stride, she simply chose to ignore them. She didn’t ask for his help and was not about to thank him for wholly unwanted attention from him. He and his long blond locks, rather strong hands, and self-righteous self could go spit on Merlin’s grave for all she cared. If she hadn’t chosen to ignore his comment about dittany she might have blushed and stuttered and choked on words trying to explain herself. Whatever she would have said would probably have ended up making her look like a stupid, brainless blonde. She bit her lip instead. She plucked the now blood stained handkerchief from her wrist and tossed it into the trash can. She wasn’t going to save that one. Blood stains were a bit more morbid and disgusting than a few blots of bleeding mascara. She had one of her own in her bag, a black satin-finish ribbon tied around it in a neat bow. She’d meant to give him that in return for ruining his piece of cotton that she’d ruined and then stolen. The hair ribbon had been something extra. She hadn’t planned it until she had passed by trunk and found and array of her own ribbons sitting on it. His hair was long enough for one and looked rather like it needed something to hold it back. She justified it by believing that she was insulting his hair style. She liked when she started to believe her own thoughts. But now she wasn’t going to give it to him. He didn’t get a thank you or an exchange of anything just then. She narrowed her eyes, crossed her arms, and scowled. She pressed her arms against her stomach, ignoring the grumble that echoed just then. She was hungry, that hadn’t been a lie to try and rush out earlier. Wasn’t it a crime to starve students? Narcissa supposed that trying to say that Professor Cadmus was far too cruel to be teaching children because he starved them could now be easily countered by the fact he healed her and left her in little pain rather quickly. Well played, Professor. He knew had to cover himself, it seemed. “Another Saturday detention?” She snapped, leaning forward and placing her palms on his desk. “Because the other one worked out so well last time?!” She was furious just then. She’d wasted the best part of a Saturday with this man and nothing good had come out of it. She reached up and flicked a bottle of ink over, not actually having the courage to ruin the contents of his entire desk. She watched the black liquid pour out before jerking her gaze to meet his again. “I will not do it. I’ll accept the fail. My grades can’t possibly can any worse, can then?” The rather sad truth was that they really couldn’t fall much farther from where they were now. “Let me put…whatever I’ve concocted into the phial and fail it or merely place the empty phial in the tray and give me a zero for not doing anything. I won’t spend another day alone with you. I’d rather let you defile me, but we all know I’m not your type.” She stood up and moved to her bag quickly. She had no plans to actually clean up her station, not now anyways. She was far too upset about this whole thing. If her kitten didn’t come for her birthday Narcissa may just hold herself up in the infirmary for a week eating nothing but chocolate and moping about. “Mister Malfoy is on probation with me, though it’s hardly your concern,” She said, stuffing her things (what was left on the table that belonged to her, which wasn’t much considering her book now needed t be replaced). “He did not get to me. We had a bit of a fight, he tried to kiss him, and I informed him that I didn’t like kissing. That’s your fault, by the way. I’d much rather have gone this whole route in a different manner. But he is on probation. He may not have flings or flirt with other women. He may not drink in excess…or really, at all. He may not smoke. He may not try to toy with my skirt in anyway. If he follows through for however long I wish to keep this up I may consider dating him. He did not get me.” Narcissa met his gaze again, her own having turned fierce with anger. She was upset over Saturday, yes. But she needed him to know that no one, especially Lucius, did not ‘get to her’. “And I mean, though I would think it rather clear, that I don’t want to have a fight with him in front of you,” she said slowly, making sure to emphasize every syllable. “Nor would I like you to witness as he digs through my bags searching for his flask and cigarettes. I’ve taken away Bella’s too, but she probably hasn’t noticed yet. When did this entire school start carrying around flasks?” WORDS: 853 credit to hay shay ! at caution 2.0

[/td][/tr][/table]

[lucius]

Lucius Malfoy rarely lost his cool, especially with Narcissa, and he wouldn’t stop now. He watched her movements and listened closely to her little tirade, as his fingers intertwined themselves together on his lap. He neither flinched with she assaulted his desk with her hands, nor grimace as the ink she spilt stained the essays he had finished grading the night before. His breathing was steady and calm, barely a louder register than it was before, as she continued to go to her desk and pack her things and explain to him about the little probation that she put him on before they started dating - oh yes, he did remember that. He was somewhat grateful for it later on in his life, since he had quit smoking after she decided that it wasn’t a good thing for him to do. He supposed that was when he began taking her seriously, since she was the first woman to ever demand something better from him. Now, her demands were more than just a nuisance, and her attitude was something he definitely would not take from her; oh no, not now.

“That’s enough,” he purred delicately, his voice loud enough to resound in the room and force her into silence. He grabbed his wand from his lap, flicked it once, and the door shut and locked behind her. Without paying attention her, he waved his wand at the ink on his desk, muttering “Evanesco,” and the ink evaporated away as if it had never been there in the first place. He stood and did the same for her cauldron, cleaning her station silently before he finally turned to her. Looking as gentlemanly as ever, with his black slacks, vest, and tie, he cocked his head slightly and purred to her again: “That is quite enough, Narcissa.” His voice was delicate, like silk, and dangerous, as he was. He was quite dangerous, and although he wouldn’t hurt her, he almost wanted her to feel threatened, so she would take him seriously. If he couldn’t reason with her, then he would most certainly have to scare her.

Lucius lowered himself down to a level where he could look her directly in the eyes, so that they were parallel to each other. The closeness was uncomfortable, and every so often he could feel her breath caressing his lips or his chin and it took everything in him to avoid shivering from it. He glared, tilting his head as a few strands of his blonde hair fell over his eyes. His gaze was piercing, almost as if he were looking into her very soul. His voice was deliberate as he began to speak again: “Now, you listen to me,” he began, enunciating every word as if she couldn’t understand him. “I’m slowly becoming tired of your attitude, you may be able to intimidate your peers with your disposition; but, you have no idea what you’re dealing with, little girl.” His quip was sharp, coming crisp from his mouth almost as if he had rehearsed saying all of this to her. Lucius’ hand brushed over her cheek once.

“I have been more than pleasant with you in the last few encounters we’ve had with each other; more than pleasant, even. I’ve been accommodating, and I have been calm. However, all this time, you’ve been acting like a spoiled child because I will not give you what you want.” He grinned a little, then, barely able to keep himself from laughing. “Well, little Narcissa, I’ll have you know that I find it very unfortunate that you cannot understand to what great lengths I’ve gone to respect you and your privacy. You’re lucky I haven’t told the Headmaster about what you did, trying to exchange a good grade for giving me sex, and assaulting me with a kiss, at that? You’re absolutely lucky I never went and told on you, got you expelled and shamed your family. You should be grateful that I’ve been so kind to you thus far.” His eyes flashed then, and he grabbed her by the side of her face - gently, albeit firmly, to further push his point.

“I’m not asking you to come in on Saturday, I’m telling you, Narcissa, because I’m not going to give you what you want. I’m not going to let you act like a brat and get away with not doing what is required of you. You’re going to come in on Saturday, and you are going to do your Potion’s exam properly, after a good amount of studying. And what’s more…” He glanced toward the door, which was bolted shut, and would remain that way until he was satisfied.

“You’re going to stay in this room until you apologize for your behavior, even if I have to keep you in here all night. His eyes flashed again, and his forehead was against hers just as quickly. “Is,” his breath was hot on her face at the first word, “That,” just as hot the second time, except now his hand squeezed a bit tighter on her face, catching some locks of her hair. “Clear?”

[`narcissa virga black]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style,background-color: #d3d1d1; background:url(http://i53.tinypic.com/sutzmh.jpg); width: 300px; height: 400px; -moz-border-radius: 2em; border-radius: 2em; -webkit-border-radius: 2em; border: #d3d1d1 3px solid;] beautiful & dirty rich , Narcissa didn’t know what she was expecting when she began an all out verbal assault on her Professor. Of course she didn’t really expect for him to take it laying down, letting her scoot out with her dignity and appearance left intact, but her mind had not created the situation that was now being unfolded before her. She had begun to trust him too much, to not be able to see where his pressure points were. She had lost sight of how far she could go with him because it was far different with any other teacher. She didn’t know why he’d let her get away with her behavior until now. She didn’t want to question it when she’d gotten away with back talking and skipping classes, but now she wanted to get whatever had made her special back. And she wanted it back now. “I’m not a little girl,” she retorted because it was the only logical thing to say at that moment. She wasn’t. She was to be sixteen in a few hours. She was mature as well, at times. Right now she felt very much like a child- but she wouldn’t tell him that. She also felt obscenely short and small, that feeling even furthered as his hand (so large and forceful looking in comparison to her own…and to her own face) pressed against her skin. She bit her lip, shifted her body, and sat on the edge of the table. She was careful not to sit in anything repulsive or dangerous, her fingers feeling around for a dry spot as her eyes never left the man’s. She barred her teeth at him as he grabbed her, her skin and eyes starting to hurt as she refused to blink more than she needed to. It was like a staring contest with a dog for dominance. She wasn’t a child. He couldn’t scare her as if she was one and he was a large, overly brutish beast. Her teeth ground together as she listened, her own words forming and turning over in her mind. The moment there was a pause in his lecture she jumped in, grabbing a fistful of his hair. It was long enough for the task to be fairly easy. If he was going to hold her in place, she was going to assert herself somehow. This whole seen reminded her of her last time she’d been this close to him. She swallowed. “You didn’t go to the Headmaster because I wasn’t the one at fault. It was what you wanted until you realized that I didn’t have quite the assets that you wanted. You’re the one who started it not me; it was the last thing I’d have wanted to do. And my kiss? That pathetic little press of skin against skin? I doubt you could call that assault. That wasn’t even a real kiss as far as I’m concerned. I’ve had one now. No one would believe you,” she snapped, narrowing her own eyes. Of course, there was the smallest tone of hurt mixed in with that anger. One really had to dislike a person to call a simple peck an assault. She shut her mouth quickly as he began to talk. She was smart enough to know not to cut him off. She was going to open her mouth to protest. She wasn’t going to come on Saturday, no matter if he used the imperius curse on her. She wouldn’t do it. It was against her rights or something along those lines. She’d tell the Headmaster how he’d tried to violate her last detention. He was a criminal and he couldn’t be trusted amongst proper society. But then her anger was doubled and she couldn’t find the words to describe this feeling now. “You can’t keep me in here,” she hissed, for she wasn’t about to murder her pride and offer some sort of half-felt ‘sorry’ so she could leave. Not yet, at least. And she was going to inform him that his plan wasn’t clear, that she didn’t understand or agree with it. She was going to say so many things, but Narcissa suddenly found herself far too close to her professor and at a loss for words. His forehead rested against hers and his nose gently brushed against her own. She could feel his breath hit her lips, warming them. She licked her own lips out of pure reflex, the smallest hitch in breath happening. She was still gripping his hair, though her hand was nowhere near as tight as her Professor’s. She had never been this aware of a man. The position was familiar, wasn’t it? Hadn’t be been standing between her spread legs just a week or two ago? Narcissa couldn’t think straight and couldn’t focus on a single thought. She did what came naturally. Which was, just then, to arch her back a little and close the centimeter of space between them. Her fingers tightened as her lips hit his, molding against them. Her eyes slide closed as she inhaled through her nose. He smelled like peppermint and dittany and so very masculine. She tried to remember what she had done with Lucius, but it was so very hard to think and kiss as the same time. She probed her tongue out, flicking it across Professor Cadmus’ bottom lip. She bit the piece of flesh very gently, tugging on it. WORDS: 903 credit to hay shay ! at caution 2.0

[/td][/tr][/table]

[lucius]

In a single, irreversible action, Lucius Malfoy was far gone. Her lips were soft and full, melding gently against his with a naiveté that made his blood run cold and his skin itch desperately in want. She dared to do things she hadn’t before, which meant she had practiced. With who or what, he did not know, neither did he care. His mind and his body separated in that instant, thoughts reeling. Everything inside him was telling him that none of this was right, that at that very moment he should have thrown her out of his office and let things be as they were supposed to be. Yet, he could not summon the will to even remotely take steps toward that action. He knew that none of this should be happening, and that if he were a responsible adult he would end it now; but, Merlin, he didn’t want to. Weeks of frustration, pent up inside him to the point where he felt as if he were going to explode, evaporated into nothing as soon as she fearlessly stole a kiss from him, for the second time. The peace that he felt inside, the very relief of it, made him extremely reluctant to let go.

The circumstances were a bit dubious for a moment like this, regardless. Even if he had decided to go through with it, didn’t Narcissa clearly tell him that his younger self knew exactly where she was at the current moment? He knew that his counterpart would more than likely come straight to here if he were to become too worried of Narcissa… Even if the doors were locked, that was easily rectified - which was something that boggled him, why hadn’t Narcissa even attempted to escape? - and he certainly did not want the two of them to be caught in a compromising situation. What would that do to him? What would that do for his job? They would throw him in Azkaban again, regardless of whether or not she was of consenting age in a matter of hours… Worst of all, he began to realize, was what would happen to her if something like this was found out. Her family would be shamed, her reputation would be ruined… there were many things that a Pureblood family could do to a family member that didn’t live up to standards. He didn’t want to ruin her life, even if she were wanting this. She was a child… she wasn’t thinking of the consequences.

And yet, the entire time his mind was calculating all of these things, his body was on autopilot. Her young body was nothing for him, as he easily picked her up and sat her down on the table behind her. Seated there, he could stand upright, and gained more access to her. His left hand buried itself into her hair, keeping her head in place as the other arm wrapped itself around her tiny waist. Her practice might have been pertinent to start a better kiss; but, it was his experience and expertise that ended up being a guide. Her teeth nipped at his bottom and he gave a low, sensual purr before claiming her mouth entirely, devouring her. His tongue proved itself inside, gently at first so she could get used to the feeling, and then with mounting passion as he began to enjoy her taste again -- the familiar tang of her lipstick and the familiar flavor of breath mints. It was heavenly, and he only realized then how much he had missed her taste. When his mind finally got back to him, minutes seemed to have passed, and in one resounding motion he broke the kiss, breathing heavily as he stared down at her. Her half lidded eyes and her flushed cheeks… He couldn’t shake the feeling he was looking at the apparition of a girl he just murdered.

He retracted himself from her, stepping a few feet away, suddenly overcome with chills when her warmth had evanesced from him. He felt so cold and separate from her then, his skin itching to feel her. His hair was somewhat messed and he continued to pant, his eyes never moving from her. “We can’t,” he hissed sullenly. His hands gripped the table beside him and squeezed, he could feel the frustration bubbling up inside him again. He couldn’t lose control, though. Not now. Not after that. “If someone knew, if someone caught us, do you know how much trouble I could be in?” Lucius had wanted to say “we”; but, he could not possibly expect her to understand what consequences laid in store if something like this were to transpire, even if they were never caught. What it meant for time… his family. He couldn’t do that to her. She wouldn’t want that.

[`narcissa virga black]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style,background-color: #d3d1d1; background:url(http://i53.tinypic.com/sutzmh.jpg); width: 300px; height: 400px; -moz-border-radius: 2em; border-radius: 2em; -webkit-border-radius: 2em; border: #d3d1d1 3px solid;] beautiful & dirty rich , Narcissa melted into his chest, pressing her small white-oxford clad breasts against him. They’d never seemed big (or, in ‘Cissa’s mind, big enough) before tonight. Now they were a veritable barrier between her and the man in front of her. They were tender as well, reacting to being pressed against his body in a way she’d never imagined. When had her chest developed such feeling? When had she been so aware of them? Even when she stared at herself in the mirror, wearing nothing but a blush, she hadn’t been so concerned with them. Suddenly, without a clue where the idea came from, she wanted him to touch her. Did her breasts have a mind of their own now? She was still mulling over that idea when his lips reclaimed hers. Her kiss had been almost pathetic in comparison to his (though, where in Merlin’s name did that leave the first kiss they’d shared? Or even the gentle one Lucius had attempted?) . This was rape and pillage of the mouth. That was wrong. Rape would imply that this kiss was unwanted and it certainly wasn’t. She could never be happy, now that she knew about this sensation, with a peck on the lips again. His lips moved against hers forcefully, making Narcissa part her mouth for his access. She almost jumped when his tongue ran across hers, not having expected to find a tongue other than her own behind her teeth. She timidly slid her petite pink organ along his, growing more adventurous with each moment. Of course, her hands weren’t still either. They’d moved from his hair (some part of her mind noted that his were still firmly gripping her locks) and down his shoulders. Her palms splayed and then pressed against his chest, easily sliding beneath his outer robe to touch his shirt-covered upper shirt. Did a man’s chest become as sensitive as a female’s? She wanted to know. She dragged her nails down his front, stopping to grip his belt. She had no intention, as adventurous as she was being just then, to do anything further with his belt. It just seemed like a rather good place to grip and use to pull herself against him again. She wrapped her legs every so lightly against the back of his thighs. When he pulled away she let out a soft sigh, her eyes and lips both parting slightly as she looked up at him. She felt delirious and sleepy, her fingers still gripping his belt for the breath of a moment he stayed in front of her. What had happened? Her mind was now starting to try to grasp what had just passed between the two. This man, less than a month ago, had furiously rejected her. He’d called her peck an assault and had made it clear to her she wasn’t good enough for him. Then what was this? He didn’t give her the pleasure of remaining in her foggy confusion, but instead pulled free of her grip. He didn’t just back away- he backed far away. She’d have to get down off of the table he’d put her own and walk a few steps to even brush her fingertips against his chest. She didn’t do that. She continued to sit there. She did, however, snap her knees together and lock her ankles. When did she become obscene? (And when did kissing someone, let alone a teacher, stop being obscene?) She opened her mouth to speak, but he beat her to it. She swallowed, crossed her arms, and looked down. Her stocking was still partway past her knee and her skirt had becoming increasingly wrinkled by her previous activity. “No one will walk in,” She murmured, still looking down. “No one could catch us. The door is locked, isn’t it? No student would unlock a classroom or teacher’s door. And any one of your colleagues would knock first.” There was a ring of doubt in her tone, as if she didn’t believe him that being caught was the reason he had pulled away and separated herself from him. She swallowed. “I’m still not sorry for how I behaved earlier. And I’m not sorry for this either,” She looked up then, looking over his body and waiting for a movement. She slid from the desk, picking up her bag and holding it against her chest. “Even if you are.” Something akin to the sensation that had hit her chest the last time she’d been in this position, thoroughly pushed away by Professor Cadmus and sliding from a desk in the potion’s classroom, revisited her. “Don’t say anything else. Unlock the door and let me leave. Just let me fail this class and my O.W.L. s and I’ll be out of your hair next year.” WORDS: 797 credit to hay shay ! at caution 2.0

[/td][/tr][/table]

[lucius]

There was no outburst, or any bratty attitude. There was just one request, to let her leave so she could forget; to allow her to leave so they would never have to see each other again. That was how it was supposed to be, so naturally he should have done as she had requested. And yet, he wasn’t. Lucius didn’t move, he didn’t dare move. He continued to stare at her, looking almost flabbergasted by the revelation, as she was waiting there expectantly. For the briefest of seconds, his mind flashed with consideration. Perhaps she was old enough to consent for this on her own, perhaps she was clear headed enough to understand the severity of it. He knew that was an outright lie… he was trying to rationalize all of this so he didn’t feel like a lecherous old man. But, if she wanted it… if she understood what she was getting into… it would be alright, wouldn’t it?

His greed took over -- of course it would be alright. He deserved this, didn’t he? After all he had suffered, and continued to suffer, he deserved this. This wouldn’t be permanent, there was no way it could be. What if he and Narcissa had a fling, until he figured out how to get back to his own time. When he left, she would assume that he really was some dirty old man that had taken advantage of her, and take comfort in the arms of his younger self. It was like clockwork, really. Of course, there was the chance that he could never get back to his own time… that would probably end badly; but, honestly, he couldn’t be bothered to think about that. No, not now, not when everything seemed perfect.

Lucius stepped forward, grabbing her bag and dropping it to the floor. He was a good foot taller than her, and had to bend down slightly; but, when he did, he claimed her lips again, without hesitation this time. It was sweeter than the one before, lacking the passion it had retained; but, making up for it with its gentleness. He stroked the side of her gently, as his free hand let itself rest at her waist. He let it continue like this for a good moment before he pulled away again, his clear, gray eyes piercing hers, almost as if he were gazing into her soul.

[green]“You can’t tell anyone about this,”[/green] he said urgently, giving her another gentle kiss. He closed his eyes and hissed a little, breathing in her scent. Her perfume was uncanny, the same scent she continued to wear deep into their marriage. It filled him with such nostalgia that he buried his face into her air, kissing her there. As his arms lowered and wrapped themselves tightly around her. [green]“We cannot be obvious,”[/green] he continued to say, kissing down the side of her face. He would have been able to speak to her more clearly if he wasn’t overcome with the need to be touching every bit of her that he could. The temptation had just become way too much for him to bear.

[green]“You know how to be subtle,”[/green] he told her, gently biting her lower lip. A devious smirk perked up onto his countenance, and for the first time he almost looked like the Devil. [green]“Of course you do, Cissy…”[/green] He breathed heavily again, kissing her deeply as he used his arms to hoist her upwards and against him. He didn’t need a table to support her weight, he was surged with a newfound strength that wholly consumed him. He held her there in his arms, letting his mind overcoming with the primal urges he had been neglecting for so long.

It was a secret, a dirty secret… but, in that moment, he damned the consequences. He wanted this.

[`narcissa virga black]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style,background-color: #d3d1d1; background:url(http://i53.tinypic.com/sutzmh.jpg); width: 300px; height: 400px; -moz-border-radius: 2em; border-radius: 2em; -webkit-border-radius: 2em; border: #d3d1d1 3px solid;] beautiful & dirty rich , The bundle of emotion had begun to swell in the pit of Narcissa’s stomach again. He was silent for a few moments and she wondered vaguely if he was going to find another creative, ingenious way to tell her she wasn’t good enough for him. She was nervous and feeling rejected, ready but also not so ready to face another not to subtle let-down. She didn’t remember when she’d started to worry that he’d reject her. She didn’t have a conscious idea of when she’d begun to want him to want her. She shouldn’t want his affection, his lust for her. It was bad, it was inappropriate. Oh, but she wanted it. Her eldest sister, to Narcissa, embodied all that was inappropriate. She wanted to ask the oldest Black daughter if she’d ever wanted someone she shouldn’t; if she’d attempted to get what she’d wanted in a way that Narcissa had. She wanted to know if the other girl had been just as rejected and fearful of more rejection as she felt just then. She couldn’t, of course. Bella was far too protective of her to ever even let feelings of inappropriateness foster in her sister. Bella couldn’t know. Narcissa shifted on her feet, still holding onto her bag and waiting for Professor Cadmus to send her on her way or say something. Anything could be better than silence, correct? She reached up and gently pressed her knuckle against her nose and then wiped under her eyes to make sure that she hadn’t begun to get teary-eyed and sniffle about what was about to happen. Well, what she thought was going to happen. Nothing in ‘Cissa’s mind was actually able to form what her teacher’s next move would be. She’d imagined him opening up the door wordlessly. She’d pictured him attempting to tell her she was good enough, but not good enough for him- again. She’d conjured images of anger and frustration. None of that what was really happened. She released her bag easily, letting him take it in her state of confusion. She might have liked to think that she wasn’t confused as he bent down to kiss her again, but she was. She stood there, unrelenting for a good moment before it clicked in her mind; he wasn’t going to reject her again. And then she sunk against him, savoring the soft, sweet touches he ministered to her body. The blonde stood on her tiptoes, trying to follow his lead until he pulled away. Her eyes flickered open (though she was unsure of when she’d closed them) and she looked up at him with a mixture of admiration and pride in her eyes. Well, that was settled then. She won. She hadn’t even wanted to at first, but she had. “Who would I tell?” She asked, her courage growing as her hands moved to his chest again. She pushed the robes off of his shoulders, the fabric catching at his elbows. Her eyes flickered between his (for she was paying attention, but this was all so very interesting and new to her) and his chest, fingering the tie and then pulling it free from where he had it tucked into his vest. She nodded and moved her head (in a rather snake like fashion) against his kisses. She liked these sorts of kisses, she decided. Kisses on the mouth were certainly not the only way to gain pleasure. A brief idea of using this form of pleasure on Lucius popped up in her mind, but she quickly squished it. “I can be subtle,” She agreed, nodding furiously. She slid her arms around his neck, returning each kiss with equal vigor. “I can be sexy,” she added. She whispered the last phrase against his lips. Her legs wrapped around his waist, holding herself up against him the best she could. She didn’t think she needed to, but she was feeling lightheaded enough that her falling wouldn’t do her again. She didn’t escape his grip right away, instead biting and licking and stroking him. She arched herself against him and kissed him back until she felt that she was going to fall and pass out. Then she wiggled from his grip until she stood on the floor. She looked thoroughly kissed. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips swollen and red. Her clothes were wrinkled an untucked in weird places. She swallowed, cupping his face with the palm of her hand. “Can we have dinner?” She bit her lip, trying to ignore another grumble from her stomach. “I’m sure you’re hungry as well. I don’t…I don’t even have to leave, do I?” WORDS: 771 credit to hay shay ! at caution 2.0

[/td][/tr][/table]

[lucius]

It was sweet heaven, yes it was, to have her moving so enthusiastically with his ministrations, that he began to lose himself in the motions. Her lips were so soft, tentatively mimicking everything that he did. She was learning, was a pleasant thing to realize, and she was becoming much more daring. Before he could even realize it, she was already fooling with his tie and pushing his robe down to his elbows. He didn’t know how far he was willing to take this, knowing Narcissa as well as he did. As much as he would have liked to, he knew that going farther than kissing, at this moment, would be entirely unacceptable… as if what they were doing at that moment wasn’t inappropriate already.

She was assuring him that she could do no wrong, and it sure was convincing. Her self esteem was boosted threefold and he could feel in the way she moved and in the way she spoke to him. From what Lucius could remember, Narcissa only used the term ‘sexy’ when she had really felt that way. The word was used sparingly, since she had a hard time seeing herself in a sexual way. Lucius had felt that way at first, also, when they had begun dating in their younger years. That had always caused him doubt, until he saw what Narcissa was really like when she could be in private. He let her decide how long this was to continue, relishing in the comforting familiarity of how it felt to have her in his arms again. It filled in holes inside himself that could only be filled in by her… even if it wasn’t exactly the woman he had envisioned. He wondered how he would feel, if he ever went back, to see his wife, after all of this. He concluded that he would probably have felt nothing, because, as he took glances into Cissa’s eyes, he saw the same woman inside, and he supposed that was why he had felt somewhat alright with this situation, because he knew, deep down, the woman he loved was buried deep inside.

Soon after, Narcissa slipped down, and he watched her, his hands now at her mid section, since they had slipped upwards during her descent. He took a glance toward the door, and then back at her. He couldn’t mistake that he was also somewhat famished; but, he hesitated at the idea of having her say. The fact that his younger counterpart may have been looking for her, and also knew that she would have been down here… it made his blood run cold. He reluctantly removed himself from her, discarding his pushed down robe, and tucked his tie back into his vest.

[green]“You don’t,”[/green] he began, straightening his hair and vest nonchalantly. [green]“But, it would be best if you did. You said that your Lucius would probably come looking for you, yes?”[/green] He didn’t want to be suspicious, really; but, in a situation like this, you couldn’t be too careful. Not with everything that was on the line… He reached forward, petting her head thoughtfully as he gave a gentle sigh. To be honest, he would have liked it if she didn’t leave. But, he couldn’t have everything he wanted, could he?

[green]“If you stayed, I’m sure that I could get a House Elf to bring you something… and you would have to do assignments, Miss Black,”[/green] he intoned sternly, giving her a look. As nice as this whole situation was, he wanted to drill into her head the severity of it, and how important appearances was.

[`narcissa virga black]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style,background-color: #d3d1d1; background:url(http://i53.tinypic.com/sutzmh.jpg); width: 300px; height: 400px; -moz-border-radius: 2em; border-radius: 2em; -webkit-border-radius: 2em; border: #d3d1d1 3px solid;] beautiful & dirty rich , Narcissa, breathlessly, watched as Professor Cadmus smoothed out his clothing and fix his appearance. She found it odd that he could both do it without a mirror and insisted it was the first thing that he did after separating his body from hers. Was that the acceptable thing to do? Did people usually immediately begin to hide evidence of what they’d done the moment it was over? Were they ashamed or was it just obscenely obscene to walk around looking just kissed? She’d rather liked the way he had looked with his hair slightly pulled foreword and his shirt look disheveled. She was very much a fan of keeping up appearances so it was more than a little odd that she liked the mussed look on her teacher. Narcissa decided to follow suit, tucking her shirt into her skirt and retrieving her stockings from where they’d fallen to his mid-calves. She straightened her own tie and pulled the ribbon from her hair, using it to retie her hair back into place. Her sweater was still sitting on the bench, but she still had no will power to put it on (for the classroom, with its cauldrons running for hours every day, was always hotter than the rest of the dungeons). She hoped her lipstick was still in place, but she had no mirror to check. When she was sure she looked halfway decent and no longer kissed (though, again, she had no mirror to check on if her lips were still plump and her cheeks still flushed). She looked back up at him and debated her next move. She weighed the options, looking between him and the door. Well, it honestly didn’t sound as if he was encouraging her to stay. It sounded just the opposite, actually. He was making it far more enjoyable to leave him alone and to leave this room. If he really wanted her to stay and wanted her in general he was doing a rather bad job at showing her that. She looked down, bit the inside of her cheek, and picked her bag off of the ground from where she’d put it. “Well, Sir, when you put it that way I’d much rather leave you do your usual activities tonight. I’m sure that the first place Lucius would look, come midnight, is in your classroom. I’d hate to impose on you and have you call an elf. And most importantly, why would I want to do assignments after that catastrophe of an exam?” Narcissa raised her hand, the mark still looking angry and red. “I shall leave, then. And I suppose I shall still see you on Saturday…still.” She looked up at him, meeting his eyes very slowly. “Though I really do think it will be pointless. I have no aptitude for potions. At least Slughorn used to help me along so that I would at least pass. You just stand there and watch as I go farther and farther in the wrong direction.” She scowled and looked up at him, but that scowl quickly formed into a full-fledged pout. She neared the door when the bell tower struck twelve. Even below ground, like they were, the vibrations and resounding clang could be felt and heart. She bit her lip and looked back up. Her hand rested against the door handle. “I suppose that’s happy birthday to me,” She murmured, her hand falling away from the door as she pulled her bag farther up her shoulder. Her stomach grumbled loudly and she wrapped her arm around it, as if she could stifle the noise. “I should be off to bed, as we’ve already agreed. Goodnight, Sir.” WORDS: 1,009 credit to hay shay ! at caution 2.0

[/td][/tr][/table]

[lucius]

It was in some ways annoying, and in other ways endearing, her crippling insecurity. It had always been like that. There was never a right thing that could be said when he wasn’t doting upon her, and she would take what was spoken and harbor it into her heart until it absolutely wounded him. Of course he didn’t want her to leave, why would he? She was special, although she didn’t know it; but, it wasn’t as if he could go all out immediately. Steps had to be taken, actions had to be made, and secrets needed to be kept. As he watched her leave, he began to hope desperately it wouldn’t be like this every time he sent her away. He also hoped that she realized that their… relationship, whatever it was, couldn’t be as anything she envisioned in her mind. This room, this sanctuary they stood in, was their only place of solace and it would have to stay that way. Inside, he was Lucius Malfoy, a man who loved his Narcissa more than life itself. Out there, he was Professor Cadmus, a cruel, insensitive bastard, who would, no doubt, say and do awful things. That was how it had to be.

Wounded, she began to spoke of impositions and his shortcomings due to his inattentiveness to her problems. The bell sounded, echoing in the dungeons with a resonating vibration that he could feel traveling through his body. She bid him goodnight, and he could only manage a long suffering sigh. She stood at the door for a long moment, staring forward, muttering something that he could barely hear. His instincts took over at this point, and he gracefully swung himself behind her. He wrapped his arms around her midsection, holding her close to his body.

[green]“Don’t,”[/green] he urged, sounding more affectionate than offended. His face buried itself in her hair, and his lips followed suit with planting small, tender kisses. He held her there with him for a long while, his eyes closed, and his will completely reluctant to let her leave. But he knew he had to. He gave a gentle squeeze then, twisting one of his free hands shortly after, and the door in front of them unlocked with a resounding click. The noise resonated in his ears more than it should have, and he could feel his stomach become heavy.

Believing he had proved his point, he opened the door for her, and urged her out himself. Before he could hear her say anything else, or see what expression her beautiful face would school itself into, he shut the door. One of his hands came up to his face, and he let out another sigh, slinking down, almost defeated, against the wood. His body was overcome with self induced paralysis, and his mind sunk away into nothing, because empty, silent abyss felt better than the sudden, powerful flash of guilt that he felt just then.