' perfect dream or sweet nightmare

[draco abraxas malfoy]

There were times when being small and slight in stature was considered a curse. Especially for a male heir to one of the most prestigious families in the wizarding world, where the men were generally tall and able to stand impressively, instantly drawing all attention to focus in a never ending circle around them. Of course, Draco had never exactly been lacking in the gaining attention department, had he? Even with his comparatively small size he managed to gather the attention a wizard of his blood deserved, quite easily in fact, but even he had to admit that perhaps that challenge would have been easier to overcome if he had been a little bit bigger. Where he was now, however, he could not consider it a curse. Not when it allowed it to hover in a way that meant he was hidden from the eyes that he did not really want to see him, not yet. Standing half behind a pillar and looking out into the green of the Hogwarts grounds, in a perfect position to be able to watch her.

He did not understand how he was here. The transition from then to now (or what had been now, to here, back then) was wrapped up in the mechanics of time, and as intelligent as the young Malfoy was, time was something which had always managed to escape his ability to grasp an understanding of. Of course, it was perfectly probably that nothing had in fact happened at all, and he had simply turned away from the pain and the fear of the present to hide in some separate, hypothetical world inside his mind (which was something he could understand, what with his studies of the magic surrounding the mind that fascinated him so). But whichever way he looked at it, to begin with he had been unable to conceive this as being a bad situation.

That was, until he had laid eyes on her for the first time, her face instantly slotting into his memory and, at that moment, making him spill his books, quills and ink to the floor in some sort of horrified gaze.

Because if this was real, if this wasn’t just some hallucination his mind had created (and he was starting to doubt that now, especially after a few more familiar and completely unwelcome faces had entered his line of vision), then back in his own time, his mother was still there. And if he wasn’t there...then she was most likely being punished for that fact. As soon as that thought had slotted itself into place in his mind Draco had fled the scene, ending up on his knees in the boys bathroom being sick into a porcelain toilet bowel in a completely undignified manner.

After that he had taken to watching her. His mother. Narcissa. Now younger than him, but thinking along that line made his forehead scrunch up in confusion (which was not a good look at all). It couldn’t be counted as stalking, not in a creepy way. So what if he went out of his way to watch the female slyly whenever he could? He had his reasons for it...mainly the fact that knowing she was here (and safe and alive and not screaming in pain – not here). Right now he was watching her again, one hand clenched tight around the bottom of the strap of his school back, his pale blonde hair almost falling over his eyes. Styled, of course, because even here, Draco Malfoy was not a boy who would dismiss the simple laws of looking good. And he had to look good today because he couldn’t help but want to make a good impression (“My son should always make a good first impression...” – that was what she had always said). Watching her was...well, not enough. But surely it would be enough for just a little bit longer?

TAGGED: NARICISSA <3 WORDS: 650
NOTES: <3

[`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: 330px; height: 400px; -moz-border-radius: 2em; border-radius: 2em; -webkit-border-radius: 2em; border: #d3d1d1 3px solid;] beautiful & dirty rich , Narcissa Black wasn’t overly fond of the new transfer students. It wasn’t that she disliked new people; she was open to change about many things. Perhaps when they didn’t directly involve her she was happier to accept them then, but she didn’t hate change completely. But they were…odd. They stared wide-eyed and were often…well, there was no other word besides twitchy to describe them. They seemed uncomfortable with being here and it was almost offending. This was her school and her heritage; they were English. They should respect Hogwarts not matter its position on Mudbloods and half-breeds. Were they all awkwardly home-tutored? Perhaps they were from some odd druid group and had their own school until recently. Narcissa didn’t know. She didn’t converse with them, even the ones in her own house. A lady didn’t start conversations anyways and she wasn’t sure if any of them could really call themselves ladies. Narcissa had woken up earlier than usual to ready herself for the day. It was going to be a terrible Herbology day; they’d even been warned about possibly being attacked and dirtied by their professor. Many had blown off the warning, but the blonde had taken it to heart. She’d made sure her makeup had been charmed to stay in place under any conditions, along with her hair. It was straight today, held back with a thin satin black ribbon, tied in a tidy little bow at the base of her scalp. She’d chosen boots over her usual pumps (though anyone would tell her wearing heals was still illogical).Her uniform was neatly arranged, as it usually was. She always believed that she always ought to look her best; she had a reputation to maintain and everyone always judged each other on appearances. The class had been less-than pleasing, just as the teacher had warned. Her hair and makeup stayed in place, but perhaps she should have worn a variety of protective charms and amulets as well; she was lucky to have survived with all ten of her fingers. Her sweater and robes had taken the worst of the damage; she’d have to write to her father immediately to send a new set. These were beyond repairable. When she’d left the green houses her bag was hooked over wand hand’s shoulder, while her ruined robes were hung over her other arm. She made her way back towards the castle, careful to put all her weight on her toes to make sure she didn’t sink into the soft post-rain soil. Luckily she’d had much experience with walking that way from garden parties and such. She made it about halfway to her destination when she sighed, dropped her things, and sat down. She’d made it as far as the lake, a few of her classmates walking past her to get to their next class. She, luckily, had a free period. It was one of the last few warm fall afternoons; she probably would have been too hot with her robes on- though that certainly didn’t mean she forgave the wretched plants. At that moment she picked up her robes and tossed them into the dark water. They bubbled for a second and then began sank. When they’d fallen a few feet down, the shadow of a tentacle wrapped around the fabric and pulled it into the depths of the lake. She looked over to watch, curiously. There were never any actual incidents of the Giant Squid eating students, so she figured she was safe. However she wasn’t safe from her reflection. Her immaculate coiffure and makeup was accompanied by a slide from her noise to just under her eye. She swore, in a most un-ladylike manner, grabbing for a tissue to dab away the blood. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed a figure up by the castle. He was definitely, well, a he. He was also blond and dressed in his uniform. He looked to be about her age, though she wasn’t the best judge with her eyes scrunched up to even see him. But he was looking straight at her. Narcissa scowled. He had to be a transfer. The only blond male she knew who would have the nerve to stare at her from across the way would never be content with that. She reached up to held the tissue against her cheek, fumbling for her wand. Her eyes never left the boy. “What are you looking at?” She called after a moment feeling a blush rise up on her cheeks. WORDS: 753 OUTFIT: click! TAGGED: Draco! credit to hay shay ! at caution 2.0

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[draco abraxas malfoy]

Perhaps...perhaps this world was really all there was. That there was nothing like where he had come from, that that was the dream. The hallucination which kept him awake for far too long into the night in fear of the nightmares that always seemed to come with it. Because if Draco thought that he could ignore the fear that somewhere his mother might be dead. Or screaming in pain, caused by some filthy half breeds wand being levelled at her, writhing on the cold stone floor of her own home. That wasn't happening here, no. In this place they were safe, and the other place couldn't be real because his mother was here. In front of him. Younger than him, ok, but that was some slightly weird detail that he could also ignore. And as his mother was here, there was nothing wrong with just watching her, was there? He was repeating that though, he knew, but he wasn't a common stalker. He was too much of a coward to actually manage that, after all. Snakes didn't stalk. They watched slyly, that was all.

Then again, he had made sure his appearance was perfect today for more than just settling in for another long few hours of watching the petite figure. Watching was all very well and good, and he wished he could do some more of it, but the burn inside him to actually talk to her and to make sure that she was her and that she was fine was starting to overpower him. A little bit longer of watching was all he wanted though, before that burn became too much and he found himself moving forward anyway. Perhaps running forward and embracing her, and that thought made him sniff haughtily. Malfoy's never show compassion in public... His father's words, this time, said from tight lips beneath cold grey eyes. Said before the world went to hell but in clear knowledge that showing feelings was a weakness.

It was as though a shot had rang through the air, striking his body and making him jerk when his mother's voice sounded. Like a puppet who'd had his strings cut, Draco jerked, half from the shock of actually getting caught indulging in his current favourite (current only) hobby that this time had to offer, and half from the voice itself. His mother's voice. It was almost enough to bring tears to the boys stormy grey eyes, just the ay the syllables tripped off her tongue in such an easy manner. Added to the blush that he could see from where he stood, creeping over her cheeks...

His mother was beautiful. Draco would be a fool not to have noticed that, but now, in this time...without the stress and the fear of his present, she was stunning. Bewitching. And as he had an eye for beauty (with her for a mother, who wouldn't?) he could not be called a creep for thinking anything along those lines.

"I...nothing.."

[/color] he mumbled back, before mentally slapping himself. He had to pull himself together, he was a Malfoy. One of the elite. Better than the scum of Mudbloods, Muggles and Blood traitors by far, the one who used the bridge while they crawled through the oozing mud. And this was his mother. He had no business appearing like a fool in front of her. However it did appear that thinking those thoughts meant his period of just watching her and letting the sight of her soothe his mind was over. Talking and initiating a conversation was the next step.

He moved away from the spot he had been stood in, moving over the grass with an elegant grace (having managed to pull himself together and blink away all those cursed unshed tears). Slowly, of course, each step perfectly place. No, he would not appear like a fool before her. "I was wondering whether you would allow me the pleasure of sitting in your company?" It was still a question, and he did try to erase the trace of nervousness from his tone but it probably wasn't all deleted. Some things could not be helped, however, no matter how hard he tried. [/blockquote]
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TAGGED: NARICISSA <3 WORDS: 587
NOTES: ---

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[`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: 330px; height: 400px; -moz-border-radius: 2em; border-radius: 2em; -webkit-border-radius: 2em; border: #d3d1d1 3px solid;] beautiful & dirty rich , The boy didn’t have an answer for her, apparently. As he moved closer, Narcissa looked him over several times. He was taller than her, though he certainly didn’t tower over anyone other than a petite little first year. He had white blond hair, a shade or two lighter than her own. His clothing was well made, she had an eye for noticing such things. She might even venture to guess, but never out loud, that his robes had been more expensive than her own. That little fact and that he was dressed in Slytherin’s trademark silver and green were noted. Everything, including his walk, indicated that he was from a wealthy well-bred line. Why hadn’t she seen him before? Even if they hadn’t attended school together until then, shouldn’t they have seen each other at parties and gatherings? There was something familiar about him though, so perhaps she’d never noticed him. Perhaps he hadn’t gotten out of the awkward transition into adulthood until this year. She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and tilted her head to the side. She had one hand buried in her bag, searching for a compact, but the other gripped the wand seated to the left of her. She had to protect herself; he was advancing towards her after staring at her. No matter what she could guess about his breeding, the silent-stalker could very well be dangerous. But then he spoke again, asking to sit with her. He was well spoken, his voice speaking nothing but good breeding. Her grip relaxed on the wand, her thumb slipping over the grooves of her handle and then brushing the diamond embedded in the very bottom of it. “I will allow it…Mister….?” She looked up at him, nodding her head quickly. She readjusted her legs beneath her, waiting for his answer before speaking more but resuming her dig through her bag. She could figure out just why he was staring at her now, though it seemed pretty obvious to her. She was a pretty female. She wasn’t against having admirers, so long as they knew when to draw the line and what they were certainly not permitted to do. Her eyes flickered between his face and her bag, keeping an eye on both of them. Books and quills were removed, Narcissa biting her lip in frustration. Two peacock quills and another albino peacock one (her favorite bird, the two sets of seven quills each were given to her by her father as an early birthday gift this year. The rest were tucked safely in her trunk) were dropped to the ground. Finally she removed a sterling silver compact, emblazoned with the Black family’s crest. That had been another gift, for being made prefect. She thrust it out to him, prying it open and angling it at her face. “Will you hold this please?” She asked, though it was less of a question and more a demand. She wasn’t used to not getting her way when asking for things. She raised her wand, holding it at an odd angle in preparation to fix her face. She was very good at healing charms; they were her only real skill that could profit her someway. Her professor had told her time and time again that she wished Narcissa would consider becoming a mediwitch or healer, but the pleas fell on deaf ears. Narcissa would grow up to become a wife, mother, and pillar of pureblood society. That was a hard enough occupation as it is. WORDS: 587 OUTFIT: click! TAGGED: Draco! credit to hay shay ! at caution 2.0

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[draco abraxas malfoy]

He was being examined. He could feel those eyes on him, testing him out perhaps, or making sure he fit the bill. Calculating and judgemental, or so it felt, and subconsciously the boy found himself standing up a little straighter upon feeling the inspection begin. Meeting up to any ideals that Slytherin's had, yes, that was something Draco could do. Being assessed and gathering attention was also something he did, but that was something he did and enjoyed doing. A hobby, perhaps. But no...being the center of attention was a better feeling than simply completing a meaningless task. And right now, because it was her (and he could not get past that simple little fact), he had to measure up even more.

Watching her still with a keen gaze, desperate to take in any minor details that he was afraid he might forget, ones which would also make sure that this was her. That he wasn't going completely crazy, which wasn't unheared off after a bout of torture at the hands of a insane meglomaniac, was it? (But of course, he couldn't think of the Dark Lord like that, his father would have flayed him alive). But under his gaze he noted that she relaxed, just slightly, but enough for him to also start to do the same.

Mister... She was asking for his name? If Draco hadn't been fully in control of his emotions by this point, his eyes may have widened slightly in shock. Of course, he should have expected that..but how was he to answer? Give his real name? There were rules about that sort of thing, he was sure, but it couldn't do any harm..and her reaction to his name might hint at something. Perhaps. But he was over analysing it now, a foolhardly course of action to take, and he had to cover up that slip quickly. Of course he did, and he did it well (in his own mind), sinking elegantly to sit beside her with a smile of thanks in her direction. "Malfoy. To you though, it can be Draco."

His introduction was pretty meaningless anyway, he was sure, as she started to daintily rumage through her school back. He watched her, of course - he had never stopped watching her. Part of him was even afraid to blink, in case it would break the spell and he would wake up somewhere else, where his mother was always pale with fear in her eyes, or screaming silently in pain. He shuddered delicately, reassuring himself that she was here. Safe. She was safe. This one of her was anyway.

A blink in suprise as the demand came from her, and he instantly made to comply. He always did - comply with both the requests from his mother and his father, rebellion was not something taken lightly in the Malfoy household. Why should the rules be any different here? "Of course." Once it was in his hands, he had to keep it still. Which was a perfectly simple task, or should have been. As his fingers brushed over the family cressed though, it became slightly more difficult. The emblazed design caught his eye and caught his breath.

There was one just light in on his mother's dressing table. This one, perhaps... How much more proof did he need?

TAGGED: NARICISSA <3 WORDS: 584
NOTES: ---

[`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: 330px; height: 400px; -moz-border-radius: 2em; border-radius: 2em; -webkit-border-radius: 2em; border: #d3d1d1 3px solid;] beautiful & dirty rich , Narcissa healed the slice on her face quickly. It hadn’t been deep, nor had it really had enough time to sit there and scab over. Her healer often worried about how slowly her blood stopped, amongst other things (often, her pallor and low appetite). It served her well in times such as these, so what was the sense in taking all the nasty-flavored potions that were repeatedly shoved under her nose and stuffed in care packages. She ran her thumb under both of her eyes, clearing away any fallen makeup, and then took the compact back with a quick snap. His lingering touches and fixed gaze on the treasure didn’t go unnoticed. She tucked it back into a deep pocket in her bag. And then she cleared her throat, putting the rest of her things away. “Malfoy?” She questioned, the smallest of sneers spreading across her face. There was no affection in her reaction, at least visibly; beneath her cashmere sweater and stiff dress-shirt, her heart began to beat faster at only the mention of the stupid boy’s family name. “I suppose your one of Lucius’ cousins, then,” Narcissa began. Her eyes caught his now and she studied his face. She nodded to herself, wondering how she’d missed the resemblance. He and Lucius shared the same eyes; a stormy gray that Narcissa often thought she could get lost in. They both had white hair, not the honey blonde locks that she held claim to. There was an unmistakable resemblance. However, this Draco was thinner, less toned and packed with muscles from Quidditch and other sorts of entertainment. “You’re obviously one of those transfers running around, then. I’m sure I’d have known if there were two Malfoys running around. Especially if you were both two decent looking lotharios. I hope to Merlin you’re nothing like Lucius. He’s a disgusting, foul, promiscuous pig who thinks that he can just bat his too-long lashes at me and win my heart. I’m not some little floozy that he can romance into his bed and then leave. I’m Narcissa Black of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. Did he send you out here to chat me up and nudge me towards him? I won’t have it. Or are all of you Malfoy men obsessed with blondes?” She caught her breath, looked down, and began to blush. By the time she’d mentally repeated everything she’d just said her face was the same color of a tomato…and slowly deepening to purple. “I- I’m sorry. I really am a lady who knows when to bite her tongue usually. I feel as if I’ve been forced to run up walls lately. You probably’ll think I’m crazy because that’s what everything thinks of us- the Blacks.” Narcissa ran her fingers through the grass, still green and crisp and showing no signs of its impending death due to the cold. She wasn’t crazy; she did feel overwhelmed about everything- and Lucius. The rumors that circulated about insanity and inbreeding and incest in the Black family would probably always be around (because, often, they were true) but she didn’t like for them to affect her. WORDS: 527 OUTFIT: click! TAGGED: Draco! credit to hay shay ! at caution 2.0

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[draco abraxas malfoy]

She really was beautiful. It was not just a passing thought for the boy, even as he sat there and watched as the slice over her face was healed without any signs of visable effort (none which he could see, at least) and tried to look as though he was not really watching at all. In truth, he hadn't much noticed the cut until it was gone, but saying that in any kind of sense may be taken as an insult. And even if she wasn't his motehr (or would be, will be, could be, his mother), Draco did have a reputation to uphold - mainly being polite and gracious to the females who deserved it. From what he had seen of her, she was one of the few who deserved good behaviour, but he was biased. Who wouldn't be in this situation?

The sneer was a rather ugly expressiong though, and it thrust him back to picturing the last time he had seen anything like that upwards curl of the lips. The last time the servants (slaves) of the Dark Lord had come knicking at the Manor and left dirty footprints everywhere, perhaps. It was comforting though, in a way - an expression like that was one he could recognise. An expression like that being associated with his name though, from her...no, that was rather gape-worthy (if he'd been one of the fouly bred creatures who dared to gape at people). And it did garner a small chuckle from him as well.

"We're related." It was said offhandedly, and lacking any detail at all, but the words he uttered almost made him chuckle again, just louder than before. Oh yes, he and 'Lucius' were most definately related (not that he would ever dare to address his father by his first name, which might prove tricky at some point, seeing as...from her reaction...he was around as well).

He blinked, looking a little...taken aback, to say the least, when Narcissa (because that was obviously who she was, something confirmed only moments later in the tide of the ranting) actually started insuating...or straight out saying...that Lucius was some one she could not stand. And that was rather suprising. Of course, all he'd ever learnt about marriage and love was that it was for business and business alone, and it was highly unlikely to ever actually marry someone you loved. Yet his parents had always been slightly...different. Perhaps those feelings didn't develop until after they had wed. Or, more likely, perhaps she was just heavily denying everything. Girls did do that, to his knowledge.

But then her question about whether he was out here to chat her up, and the bit about being obsessed with her...Draco would not have been suprised if those few words had made his pale skin turn slightly green. "Wh-hat? No! Just...no, I'm not here to...Do anything like that. Merlin no! Honest, seriously..." He took a deep breath, trying to stop himself from reeling back a little and get himself back under his own delicate control. He would manage this. He could make the Weasel explode on numerous occasions by keeping a cool face, this could not be too much of a step above that. Of course, his hurried denials might, by some idiot, be taken as simply denials, or perhaps insults, but that didn't register. He was just hoping to move on from the 'chatting her up' suggestion, because that? That was just weird.

"I can assure you that Lucius..." She he add something in there? Perhaps? Like a 'whoever he is' statement? No, that would just confuse him. Tim to move on. Quickly and get the little...Had he seriously come over as if he had a crush on her or something? "...that he had nothing to do with me coming over here...or watching you... I just thought you might be a nice someone to get to know. Being a Slytherin and having the perfect air of a lady, like one should."

TAGGED: NARICISSA <3 WORDS: 652
NOTES: ---

[`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: 330px; height: 400px; -moz-border-radius: 2em; border-radius: 2em; -webkit-border-radius: 2em; border: #d3d1d1 3px solid;] beautiful & dirty rich , Narcissa took his stuttered insistence of not wanting to come sit with her because he was attractive to her in great stride, considering she wasn’t one to happily accept rejection. She nodded, her fingers tugging at the grass next to her (but being careful enough not to dig her nails into the dirt). It was a bit stinging, of course. She couldn’t help feeling that. He’d sworn to Merlin that that wasn’t the reason he’d made his way over and been watching her, spluttering out the words as if he couldn’t say them sincerely or quick enough. Well then. On the bright side that was one less Malfoy’s advances she had to worry about, but…that was another Malfoy who wasn’t interested in her for the right reasons. Lucius hadn’t noticed her until he’d wanted her to be like one of those little sluts he had on his arms…and this one didn’t want her period. Well then. Of course, like any bright young boy, he fixed his errors with a compliment. His mother had raised him right, correctly knowing how to socialize with other, good Pureblooded children. He knew how to behave and talk to women, or at least fix when he did fumble over words. He was just…well, he wasn’t an adult yet so he had time to perfect his method. She smiled, tucking her hands into her lap, crossing her legs and placing them to the side of her. The grass wouldn’t hopefully protect her shoes from the mud. They were something she truly cared about, unlike the school-standard robes she’d carelessly disposed of to the Giant Squid. “Thank you,” she said, laughing slightly. “I suppose my demeanor is a better reason to come out here than Lucius Malfoy.” She rolled her eyes as she said his name, conjuring images of a white-blonde, tall, seventeen year old (looking rather like the one before her). “And you did save yourself, you know. But…I wouldn’t advise you to watch and randomly join a young woman unless you know her again. Though…you probably shouldn’t watch a young woman you know either. It might give her the wrong impression about you. And you know how rumors can spread here.” There was another small laugh. “But you don’t. They’re like wildfire. By the end of the day they spiral out of control and grow in size and severity. I imagine by dinner people will be saying you’ve been spying on me and stalking me and that now we’re having some sort of clandestine affair together. I don’t like to spread rumors. I rarely follow gossip…unless it’s really something rather interesting. Or about me. I do my best to stop the latter. There’s nothing more important than reputation.” She bit her lip, still smiling slightly. As much as she liked talking about herself…well, she was unsure of even what to tell him. She’d let a few things slip already without even knowing who he really was. A surname was some form of credit, she supposed..enough credit to warrant what he’d already gotten from her. “Now, tell me about yourself. Why are you here? I’ve never heard of transfers here before this year.” credit to hay shay ! at caution 2.0

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[draco abraxas malfoy]

Hearing his mother disgrace his father through her words made the rage rise slightly in Draco's chest. His loyalty to his father and to his family was the greatest thing about him, really. Raised to have respect for his elders and to have loyalty towards their actions, that had applied to both his mother and his father. If this situation hadn't already been warped enough, now he had to figure out how to react to his mother (now his age) disgracing his father (laguishing in a cell both miles and years from now) using her words. Or, the hints in her words.

The idea of dealing with that made his head hurt, and so he gave up and moved onto concentrating on something else, that little thought folding neatly and being tucked away into the back of his mind as his thoughts reorganized into a new pattern. "Your demeanor would be a better reason to come out to see you compared to anything else,"

[/b] was all he said, something resembling a smile crossing his lips.

Not a real smile, of course. A Malfoy showing emotion was unheard of. Thoughts and feelings could be percieved as weaknesses, and so must be locked away from everything else so that business could come first. That was a rule which Draco did have some trouble following, however.

But then the smile twisted slightly into a little smirk, and he lounged back on the grass, one leg straight and the other folded at the knee with the foot planted firmly on the ground, propping up his torso on one elgantly folded arm. "Rumour spreading should only happen amongst the commoners. Unless I engineered them myself. And who knows, perhaps I did this time. Having people talk about a penchant for watching women is slightly more desireable than where they talk about my liking for the other gender instead."

It had come to him that that, really, would be a way to stop the icky twisting feelings inside him. Perhaps he wasn't thinking clearly, which considering where he was and who he was with, it was probable. But he really did not want to hear rumours of him fancing his mother, not even when she was his age. Because despite the fact that all Pureblood relationships were inter-related, and interbreeding was the reason for the main ailment in his life, that idea was just...wrong. Fairly digusting, and rather like the activities of Muggles, for all his knowledge of the subject (mainly the learnings from his father).

"Wildfire can be directed along certain paths towards a source of river though, but cutting off any other food on which it could gorge itself," he said with a grin. Yes, rumours under his control were easy to move around. Like shells, or special clothing which needed to be taking in or done up differently. Always open to change, but easy to manipulate if you understood how. And they were some of the most perfect shields to wrap around oneself.

Now...he wasn't entirely sure how to explain. Say he wasn't really from here, but now, the last thing he'd been aware of back home was going to sleep after staring at his arm for hours, listening to his mother cry softly from her room down the hall of the manor. Her empty room, no longer occupied by his father who had his own no doubt common dwellings in Azkaban. He couldn't explain that, could he? Brilliant as he was, some things involved careful planning and could not be created on the spur of the moment.

"I believe it's some new scheme. Considering the fact that I believed I would have to just mingle with the commoners and filth, as well as the Mudbloods which Dumbledore insists on allowing within these walls. I am so glad there are people of class here,"[/b][/color] he improvised haphazardly, sending a charming smile in her direction. Or, at least, a charming upturned expression of the lips, but it looked true enough, which was the important thing. [/blockquote]
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TAGGED: NARICISSA <3 WORDS: 673
NOTES: ---

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[`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: 330px; height: 400px; -moz-border-radius: 2em; border-radius: 2em; -webkit-border-radius: 2em; border: #d3d1d1 3px solid;] beautiful & dirty rich , Narcissa had little shame in showing her feelings at the moment. She had been taught to hide when she was upset and frustrated from an early age. Her mother had drilled it into her pretty little skull that no one wanted to see her tears. She had scars on the inside of her lip from where she’d often bit it to hide the streams of salty tears that had been brought up. She didn’t know if her mother had been as strict with her as she had been with the other girls. Part of her was quite sure that because Narcissa was the baby, and more likely to be harassed and far more likely to cry about it, that she’d gotten that lesson more harshly and more often than the other two Black sisters. However she often forgot the lessons her mother taught her, the ones she didn’t like such as becoming a piece of inhuman, frigid glass that didn’t smile and the fine art of wearing corsets, when she spent more than a few days away from. Narcissa would stop smiling, as she smiled now at another compliment that spilled out of this Malfoy’s mouth, when she was older and married. Tears and temper were things that should be hidden (though, like smiling, she struggled to remember her mother’s lessons on them as well) but smiles seemed innocent enough. It was merely a pleased, accepting smile too. “Well born ladies don’t spread rumors,” she nodded, letting her spine relax as he adopted a rather more-than relaxed posture. She’d already made an impression about her lady-like and perfect she was for today, she could slouch just a little now. “However, discussing something that could very well be fact- especially if it could show just how terrible and disgusting some people are and especially if I dislike said person- is something I see no harm in. How am I to know, until the end, that it was not the truth? I have better things to do then to check the validity of everything I hear.” Rumors, rumors, and more rumors. She was not actually favoring the rumor mill at the moment, though she would never call it that. They were, as she said, unchecked facts that she discussed. Most of these little ‘facts’ were about the transfer students. She had little attention for those ones or for the students themselves. Others mentioned Lucius; he was a big topic, as most seventh year attractive students are. His penchant for drinking and women was kindling on an already burning fire. She squished those thoughts down, refusing to allow herself to bring him up again. The damnable boy’s eyes were doing it, not her own subconscious. She forced herself pay attention even more closely to his words. She might have not noticed what he’d hinted at if she hadn’t been so focused. “Do others really believe you do not prefer the fairer sex? “ She questioned, tilting her head to the side. Narcissa blinked. Of course, her own family tree was not composed of strictly heterosexual men and women. As long as they made proper marriages and produced heirs it did not matter what they did or with whom they did it with afterwards. There was even a middle sister (one of Narcissa’s great-aunts) who had figured her sisters would produce children and heirs enough for her and had not married. She had reportedly taken a position teaching divination at Salem Witch’s Institute and had then lived with one of her former students. Of course, one knew even less of the validity of her Great-Grandfather’s Portrait’s stories then they did of the Slytherin rumor mill. “They are always coming up with schemes to mix people who do not want to be mixed. I sincerely think that the spawn of pigs and animals and muggles that are also students here want even less to do with us as we want to do with them. I overheard one boy in my Charms class refer to our families, the old families, as the beautiful people. One would think he’d have said it as a compliment, but you’d be wrong.” She bit her lip, reaching up to tuck a stray hair behind her ear. credit to hay shay ! at caution 2.0

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[draco abraxas malfoy]

Well born ladies don't spread rumors. That was a lie, of course. At least, in his time it was - purpose being in this age with these people and the different social norms meant that the civilised people had slightly changed rules amongst one another. But from what he could remember, of being in the Hogwarts that had been in his memory since he was eleven, that contradicted those words. Pansy, for example, had been a lady of wonderful breeding and birth and there had been no one better at cultivating and collecting the rumours which had spread through the halls of the school. "Things must be different here compared to the society I am used to, in that case."

The rumours which spread this building, with these people, were...rather interesting. It was rather shocking how many of the names were actually familiar, and how many of them he could also place on the family tree tapestry adorning a wall in one of the long corridors of his Manor. Family members, not insane or twisted. Like the figure of his Aunt Bellatrix - he had seen her, passing her in corridors. Seen her for the first time that he could actually remember where she wasn't tampered by the halls of Azkaban. It was...disconcerting.

Rumours associated with those people were ones that, admittedly, he kept finding himself drawn to. Feasting upon them, in order to gain any insight into them. Heavens, and wasn't that just as sad as ridiculous as the actions of Potter...not something to be proud of either. The truth behind any words whispered in the Halls was obviously lower than pratically everything else as well, but the stories...were something to indulge in. He hoped that was all - obsession would not be an attractive trait to pick up now.

"What they believe is up to them and of no concern to myself," he said, his words actually pairing up with his internal beliefs and ringing of the truth, "As long as the rumour mill does not make me out to be some pervert stalker for watching you from afar as I was, I do not care."

[/b]He had mainly made that statement, of his preferences, for the simple fact that it would hopefully curb any remaining hints or ideas of him being...attracted. To her. Which...of course, she was a pretty girl, a beautiful woman and of bad breeding, and back in his time a girl with an appearance such as hers would have been one that, perhaps, he would have indulged him. But she was his mother.

And any suggestion that he could adore her in any other way than in the family sense was distressing in the least. "And I do not wish to come over as such, so I am telling you the truth. Self preservation, in a manner of speaking. Besides... 'the fairer sex' is a misleading tone. Fairness and attractiveness is more visible, to me, in the male sector. That is all."

Usually, his preferences were not something he cared to mention. He wasn't entirely sure how to label them, in any case, for usually it did not matter if they were male or female. Pretty and attractive was all that counted in his mind, like in the mind of a magpie, for he went for those who were shiny. So, in truth, it would not be entirely difficult to play up to the so-called 'gay' label. As long as some of the males in this facilty were attractive, of course. And not in any sense related.

Grey eyes narrowed slightly as Draco listened to her next words. "Common people are unable to tell when they are looking on greatness. I find it rather despicable and entirely unnattractive." Because, of course, if there was one thing that could be used to describe Draco it would be that he was an 'attention whore'. Good attention, of course, and copliments and being treated like the prince he was, but such words being uttered in a sarcastic tone...that was an insult. Like insulting the blood in his veins, and he could not stand that. "Overhearing such things are upsetting, said in such tones. We are the beautiful people, are we not?" [/blockquote]
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TAGGED: NARICISSA <3 WORDS: 673
NOTES: ---

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[`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 , “Where do you come from? What society do you claim as your own?” She asked, leaning foreward slightly with curiosity filling her eyes. It wasn’t often that she genuinely wanted to hear people talk about themselves and right now was one of those occasions. Her curiosity could overcome even her own selfish, narcissistic ways. She couldn’t figure out where he was from or where the rest of the mysterious transfers came from. She was content a few moments ago thinking that it was some form of mingling and mixing game but now…now the curiosity was back. “You sound like you’re from around here. In fact I would venture to guess that you and Lucius could have easily grown up together the way you speak. And his father and mother. I spent most of my time in Wiltshire with your relatives as a child.” She bit her lip, the ghost of a smile spreading across her face. “My visits are less frequent and far more formal now. But perhaps…perhaps we will see each other there come the holiday season? Abraxas still holds a ball on Christmas Eve, though that was always the late Mrs. Malfoy’s event.” She didn’t lean back into her spot, but she did look down as her fingers traced small patterns in the dirt. She still went on Christmas Eve, despite her feelings about and towards Lucius. She would go if her new found acquaintance and possible friend would be in attendance. “You ought to be rather careful with the rumor mill. As I’ve said there really is nothing more important than preserving your reputation. I’d be the last one, now, to let anything circulate that would suggest you’re a pervert who enjoys watching young women dispose of clothing in the lake,” She said, reaching out to pat the top of his hand reassuringly. “Though there would only be a handful of people you’d have to worry over hearing such rumors and actually caring. Many of those characters are guilty at gazing at women anyways and should be ignored if possible. Of course my sisters are forces to be reckoned with in their own right, if you haven’t met them yet.” They were a force, a three of the Black sisters. Bellatrix was forceful and determined. She was a tornado and a hurricane all in one. She was a storm that Narcissa loved dearly. Andromeda was going through a small phase of rebellion but she could be just as intimidating, ‘Cissa thought. She wished that this Malfoy, if he were to meet them, would encounter them in the right light. “Perhaps that’s the biggest issue with the common people. They don’t recognize what they should want to be and what they should aim for. Though not matter how high they aim and how hard some try there is no repenting for birth. Some claim that they cannot be responsible for their births. But everything we live for is passed onto our children and that will pass onto their children. We work to preserve our family lines and preserve our blood.” She nodded fiercely. Her tone was sure and strong as if she had said and heard these lines before and repeatedly. She stopped drawing her pictures and instead looked up to make eye contact. “We are indeed the beautiful people and that word should never be used as an insult. I’m an admirer of beautiful things. They’re my favorite sort of things.” A real smile spread across her lips. credit to hay shay ! at caution 2.0

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[draco abraxas malfoy]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,background-image:url(); width: 345px; height: 265px; border:3px dashed slategray; -moz-border-radius: 1em 4em; border-radius: 1em 4em; opacity: 0.9;] between heaven and hell THE BLOOD MAY BE PURE BUT THE HEART IS SPOILED; ALAS, FULL OF HARSH WORDS AND INNER TURMOIL. "The pureblood aristocracy, of course," Draco stated a touch haughtily, sitting up slightly straighter as he announced what was and actually obvious statement to make - to him, at least. In fact, though he could not bring it up (because Draco was no fool and what they were messing about with here was a delicate thing, like a spiders web), Draco was more of an aristocrat that her, perhaps. As the heir to the Malfoy's and the Black's, how else could he be? That was true anymore, perhaps, what with his money and estate having been lost somewhere as the universe switched around him, but the way he acted was still real. He would never claim otherwise. The thing he often forgot about the rest of the Pureblood aristocracy was the fact that questions were common. Questions and the fact that they were all comprised of Slytherin's, which meant more than a little bit of wariness about those around you. They were slytherin's for a reason. It was not just an elegant design of a snake on a beautifully patterned background, used to decorate otherwise dull school robes. But questions were rather easy to skip around if you played it right, as he was more than well away. "I wouldn't say the same for myself. My tone does not have the distinct scottish song around the edges, which is where I believe we are. Up North, at least." Far more formal...the escorted visits of a woman to her betrothed, perhaps? Such arrangements had been conducted for him, before, or so Pansy's father had said to his own father each time Pansy came to play from the age of ten upwards. Something they soon grew rather sick of, especially since Lucius frowned upon actual play, and Draco had grown bored of simply making the girl do what he wanted. Such visits had been rare even before he had found himself here. "I...do not believe that I will be leaving this school through this holiday..."

[/color] he said carefully, though a sharp pang rang through him at the statement. No christmas at the manor. No charging down the grand staircase (the one morning of the year when he was actually permitted to show joy like a child should) to be greeted by the seeping mound of presents beneath the ornate tree. No mother, no father, no manor. At least no pang when through him at the mention of his grandparents - the closest he could remember getting to them had been to visit their portraits occasionally. But still, a rare sign of emotion crossed his face, as he bit his lip and glanced away. No manor...no mother.

"But nevertheless, I would be honoured to be able to spend time with you over the festie season. Elegant company is something I always desire, especially from beautiful people who can hold their own in conversations, such as yourself," he said after a moment, smiling charmingly at the blonde girl. Flattering, perhaps, but he couldn't resist (and thankfully there would be no accusations coming his way as a result of it).

He was relieved when he could focus once more on the rumour and the stories of the rumour mill, although that topic was less insightful now that the dauntingness of Yuletide was actually in his mind. "Alas, I would agree. But I appear to have no reputation here, which is not something a figure such as myself is meant to have, you understand. Therefore, directing the tides of the rumour mill and using said rumours for my advantage is the way to cultivate the backing that any member of the royal pureblood line deserves, now that I don't appear to have my usual surroundings with me."[/color] Such as muscle. Draco may be the one to usually start encounters with enemies, but the muscle of Crabbe and Goyle finished it for him. He was too much of a coward to try anything like that without them, and without muscle...he was irritatingly vulnerable.

It was a sickening feeling, being vulnerable.

The Black sisters...Aunt Bella, who he had only seen as being completely crazy, fresh from the confines of Azkaban, and...the aunt that had been outcasted from the family when he was a child. The one never mentioned in polite conversation. How to act around them...he wouldn't know about that. Thankfully he'd had no more glances of them than passing figures in the corridors allowed, which gave him some time, at least, to work upon it.

And her words...they rang of the truth, the truth he had grown up with. Preserve the bloodline before anything else, family came first. Why else would he turn away from the idea of following a man who he was pretty sure that the people here, such as her, perhaps, believed would change their lives. Because he had threatened the strong Malfoy bloodline and no matter how much he believed in any cause, he would not allow his family to be trodden down. Plus, his skin was perfect, and he would not allow it to be marked by such a garish black design. "Sometimes you must work in ways which other members of the family would frown upon in order to do such however."[/color]

Beautiful things. They're my favourite sort of things. He smiled at her words, tipping his head elegantly to the side and watching her (watching her smile, something which was warm to see, reminding him of the mother who she would not yet be, the one trapped back where he had come from and probably hurting because of it). "If you believe that, I have a feeling that we will get along fantastically. Beautiful things are above those which are useful, on occasion. In my mind. Like clothing. Or people. Are you accessorizing yourself with someone beautiful as a date for the masqquerade, if you don't mind me inquiring?"
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TAGGED: SWEET CISSA WORDS: 1019

NOTES: ~~~

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[`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 , “I didn’t mean here here. I meant home,” Narcissa said, sighing a little. There had been no reason for him to understand what she’d meant, but she still held it slightly against him that she had to clarify herself; she disliked having to repeat and reword what she’d already said. Things would be much easier, at times, if everyone was a skilled legilimens. She wrinkled her nose, sighed again, and then moved to lean against her black leather school bag. “And I also meant that you’re clearly not French or American or foreign and from any other country. Which meant, in turn, that I should have at least seen you around, especially if you’re from the pureblood aristocracy as you claim. All the old families in one area mingle and party and dance and marry. With all the marriage-minded mothers I’ve brunched with, you’d think one of them would have mentioned anther Malfoy boy of about the same age, even…even with your preference for your fairer sex.” She was talking as she was thinking, really. After every point she let slip, another one formed behind it and eagerly took its place in line to be realized. It wasn’t in an accusatory tone, as if there was something sinister to him being at this school or that he wasn’t really a Malfoy. She was just curious and found it odd that they could have gone all these years (for at her age, fifteen years felt like an incomparable amount of time) without once meeting or without hearing about him. Narcissa did notice the flicker of emotion across his features as she brought up Christmas and the Holiday season and she did not let it go by. Perhaps it was regret that he wouldn’t be with his family. Perhaps it was lonesomeness; maybe he was unable to visit his family- and he had little say in the matter. If he’d been tutored at home, this may very well have been his first time away from his parents. She could understand how that might be tolling to the boy; she’d been ripped from her family at the tender age of eleven and she still occasionally wished she was at home in her own room or her own library. “Why not?” She questioned, once again leaning forward to pat his hand. She slid her fingers around his, trying to over some form of comfort. She did not know the boy well enough to lean against his chest or let him place his head into her lap, but she could hold his hand and pat his shoulder. “Are your parents away and unable to welcome you home? That must feel terrible,” She softened her voice, patting and fingering his hair slightly. “If you wish, I can forfeit my usual room at Malfoy Manor in Wiltshire for you.” Narcissa wasn’t exactly being selfless right then. Being relieved of having to spend an entire night and morning with Lucius was reward enough for giving up the set of rooms she’d stayed in almost every Christmas Eve since she was a small child. Many stayed the night in the estate after the festivities, the Blacks included. “It would be fairly simple for me to floo home after the party. They are your family after all and it would only be right for you to spend the joyous season with them. I only ever used to stay because, when we were friends as children, Lucius would insist we exchange gifts exactly at midnight. We haven’t done that since we were small and he left for Hogwarts.” She continued to toy with his hair as she spoke, withdrawing her arm after she’d made her offer. Perhaps he’d think her a charming and open-hearted female now. She could be, Narcissa supposed, if she wished to be. But most of the time she didn’t. It wasn’t good for her to be constantly charitable and no one would respect her the same way if she did. “And hopefully by then your plans to cultivate a proper reputation will have worked superbly. All the alliances and perhaps friends you will make will be there, though I do hope that a sort of cousinly- friendship doesn’t’ emerge between you and Lucius. I wouldn’t want him to corrupt you.” She snorted softly, in the most lady-like way one could snort. It sounded more like a huff really. She was not prepared, as witty and easily as the conversation had come so far, for his next question. “I am not, currently, planning to do so. No male has asked me to do so. Perhaps they are waiting to be cute and ask on my birthday, though that would be so inconvenient. If I am brought by a male, I wish for us to match. Masquerades are always better when dates match. A couple of days will not be long enough to do it well. I have heard rumors that your cousin will ask me, though I do hope not. He will scare off every other boy and unless he does something drastic about himself I will say no- which means I will be dateless.” credit to hay shay ! at caution 2.0

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[draco abraxas malfoy]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,background-image:url(); width: 345px; height: 265px; border:3px dashed slategray; -moz-border-radius: 1em 4em; border-radius: 1em 4em; opacity: 0.9;] between heaven and hell THE BLOOD MAY BE PURE BUT THE HEART IS SPOILED; ALAS, FULL OF HARSH WORDS AND INNER TURMOIL. Looking like a fool was something that Draco had always despised, and yet once more it appeared to have happened, judging by her reaction when she had to, apparantly, clarrify the meaning of her previous words. Which was not on his agenda for this conversation, because, of course, it would mean that the question had not been skipped over and he would have to delve more deeply into a fabricated universe of his own creation, and created right here on the spot. A Malfoy was rarely unprepared, but unfortunately, the need to see and speek to her small, petite figure had been too overpowering to even consider sitting down and planning out every move and comment he would make in advance. Luckily, however, one of the first skills he had been taught and had used to his advantage during his spoilt upbringing had been the ability to lie convincingly and immediently after a question was posed. Those lessons had been ingrained into him from a young age, when the aurors used to call and inquire as to dark artifacts they suspected (rightly so) to be hidden in the house and hoped to gain information from the innocent little boy that he had been. He could use those skills whenever now. Such as this moment in time. "Alas, you will forgive me. My understanding of others is not the best, as my interests barely move beyond myself and the beautiful things surrounding me. But it is not...clear, as you say," he said calmly, his face betraying no hint of the lies no spilling forth, woven into a story of his own making, "My mother and every other human member of our household and of the households surrounding ours, everyone I knew before here...are English. And an accent comes from those you are exposed to, are they not? But, in fact, my immediate family resides in the south of Spain on the coast of the Meditaranian. A mainly muggle habitat...and with a sun that is awful for my skin...but out of reach of the monsters who call themselves law enforcers in this country and threatened us when my father was sentenced to Azkaban. Injustly, of course. It's...not a topic I am comfortable with discussing."

[/color]

It was not so bad for something made on the spot, and Draco congratulated himself on that fact without much hesitating. Not that he was one to hesitate, of course...unless, like here, he was lacking the muscle which made any fights turn in his favour. Such a shame...but he was already working to rectify that.

He was honestly suprised at her offer, actually, and though her question about why the rare emotion (or, rare in his eyes. In truth, Draco's pale skin and grey eyes lacked the emotionless mask his father was so famous for, and instead did the opposite to covering up feelings for the most part) had passed over him, the offer of being able to spend the holiday season at his ancestoral home, where it had always been sent, was too much to throw away. "Travel is...difficult. The ministry here cannot touch my mother in Spain, but with the travel connections open it may be a different matter," he improvised quickly, before moving his other hand to close over hers, sqeezing it warmly between his palms. "But...I'd like that. That offer of yours...It would be both rude and unthinkable for me not to accept it... But I will not put you out of your way. Are you only able to invite if you attend fully yourself?" Though, the story about Lucius and the gifts did make him smile, a little sadly perhaps. She would say the same thing in years to come, to a little blonde boy surrounded by glittering, dancing wrapping paper and more toys than any child could wish for. Stories about her and his father, as children. Those had lessened as he had grown older.

He leant into his hand, savouring the touch (also something so like the future, so like she would do for him when he was worried or upset...emotion in the Malfoy household, restricted to such between a mother and her child), letting his eyes flutter shut a little. For a split second, of course, before he caught himself and grasped control back into his fingertips...and hopefully not enough to have been noticed.

"My plans are coming along nicely, so I do hope it will be so. Though, from what I recall, my father said that hoping is only worthwhile when you are sure you can achieve, so I should not mention that. People are fickle things. And...I doubt he will." Another lie. If anyone was corrupted by the persona of Lucius Malfoy, it would be him, would it not? But here, fighting against that was a good thing to attempt (though most was too deeply ingrained to even consider that) simply to set them apart. Mentioning such a thing would have him sentenced to St Mungo's at worse, and forever shunned by her at best, neither of which were outcomes he even wanted to contemplate.

Her next words were ones he paid a higher amount of attention to (and not just her voice, though the memories of the older version of that brought more emotion rising to his surface than he thought to be possible). Not just because she was worth paying attention to (as blood always was), but because the subject was a tender one for him as well. Back where everything was right and where his place was certified as being the ruler of the snakes, he would have chosen anyone to accompany him. Usually, admittedly, Pansy, for with her the rare sensation of having fun came through. Here, though...he did not know who to ask and who not. Being on the back foot was not a feeling he enjoyed at all. But now...well, honestly, he did not want to speak the words he knew were rising up his throat.

"I wonder...if I accept your most gracious honour of spending Yuletide with family, whether you would be willing to ignore any romantic intentions of the night and accompany me instead? Of course, if you wish for the candlelit walks and wining and dining, complete with moonlight kisses, I would advise you to decline. But missing out on such an event is such a bad signal to send across to others. Social standings are important," and the awkwardness of this was unbelievable. Draco had to repeat to himself the mental mantra that he was not a pervert for asking his mother. Her declining, though a stab to his ego, would not dent much more than a tiny portion of that, however, which was a blessed thing, "My preferences make finding a worthy date impossible; you would have no worries about any tarnish to your honour...and, besides, our hair and skin tone would make selecting a beautiful arrangements of outfits and costumes such a delightfully fun task. If you find yourself dateless, such a shame, for long, that offer is open. Although, time will be an issue as the date draws closer. Shopping is an activity that must be conducted in plenty of time."

There was nothing wrong with enjoying a good shopping trip. Draco had inherited the love of clothes and finery from both of his parents, yet shopping with his mother had always been the best of fun. He missed that, along with everything else about her. He paused for a moment, tipping his head to the side and looking rather thoughtful...the comment about his father (young father, which had to be noted) could not be missed. "Although, I do expect that my...cousin...will work to deserve your hand. And...that you shouldn't be so quick to turn it down. But I believe I am starting to lose control over my words, so...sorry."[/color] Saying sorry was certainly a strange experience, and not altogether an enjoyable one, but a faint blush stole its way over the apples of his cheeks (something also unable to hide with his pale skin). Losing control of his words was even stranger.

In a twisted sort of way, he blamed her for that.
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TAGGED: SWEET CISSA WORDS: 1000+

NOTES: <3

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