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Post by `narcissa virga black on Jul 19, 2011 12:20:30 GMT -5
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beautiful & dirty rich , Narcissa settled into her spot on the grace to listen to this boy. She was going to listen too. She usually began to ignore people when they talked about themselves, but occasionally (when whatever they were talking about pertained to her or to someone else that she cared about…or wanted to know about) she could in fact do more than nod her head and murmur ‘mhmm’ or ‘really, now?’. She had become skilful at ignoring most of what her mother said because, in all honesty, it was nothing she hadn’t said before. It was all very well to hear her mother relive the glory days of her school years or discuss etiquette and being a good hostess and wife, but it did grow tiresome and boring after years of hearing the same thing. Every now and again her mother would bring up Bellatrix’s newest faux pas or indecent behavior or Andromeda’s lack of proper friends, but there was very little that Narcissa listening to intently. There was even less that she actually participated with her mother in discussing.
She bit her lip as she did listen, her eyes fixing on his hair (she could not meet his eyes just then for she felt she would not like it if another bubble of emotion swept up into them) as she nodded. When he was finally finished, or finished for now because it was probably far too overwhelming to continue for him to continue, she once again pulled his body against hers so that she could show him some level of comfort. She was also able to smooth out his blond locks, which had suddenly gotten tangled in the wind. Having to be driven from the country with your father in Azkaban…it must have been terrible for him, no matter how bland he made his voice seem.
“I’m sorry; I will not ask you to talk of it again. Though, I am sure, Spain is very nice if once has an umbrella and enough anti-sun potion to not darken. There are many people who begin to look like plastic people and mannequins when they tan. It makes them look terribly lower class,” She murmured, hoping something along these lines would distract him. He seemed to enjoy the same topics she did, at least, and criticizing bad fashion habits was one of her favorites. “I do prefer Italy though, or even Greece. “
She was glad that he did accept her offer. To stay here during the holidays would be rather sad and lonesome; very rarely did any of the Slytherins stay home. They had far too many presents and parties and dinners to even think about skipping. Occasionally one or two would stay behind if their parents had decided to take a private vacation, but most did not. She didn’t want Draco to be left alone, here, without anyone.
“I doubt Abraxas would notice if I invited anyone else. His invitations are extended to an entire family and their Holiday guests,” She said, rubbing her thumb across her knuckles. “He will equally, no doubt, be unaware that I’m not there at breakfast the next day. Lucius may notice, but he never does wake up in time for the morning meal. Don’t you worry, alright? We’ll have an amazing time. The food is wonderful and even those slightly underage are permitted champagne. Oh, and the peacocks glitter. I always liked the colored ones better than the ones your uncle and his cousin keep, though.”
For not liking Lucius even a little bit just then, she must have sounded odd knowing so much. She bit her lip and looked around. She was rather glad when he continued on about the masquerade. That was a topic was for more interested in. She loved balls; the dresses, the dancing, all of it. She doubted that it could rival any of the parties she’d attended at home because there would be an abundance of unwanted (by her) people. She also wasn’t very sure anyone besides those she had seen at similar occasions at her own home or her parents’ friends’ homes could dance.
“I think you’re rather right about your cousin. He will do his very best and work himself silly trying to take me. It might crush him to say yes to you right away, perhaps? And as much as I doubt he’ll have any skill at moonlit walks and any other sorts of romantic things, I do love to hope for them. Even the most detestable partner can be made up for by what goes on that evening.”
She ignored his apology, for he had nothing to apologize about. It was his cousin. No matter how much of a pig Lucius could be, family came first. “I’m sorry that I won’t say yes to you right now. Let us give Lucius a week, alright? If he doesn’t live up to our expectations, which he probably won’t, we shall spend that Hogsmeade weekend getting out outfits. And I’ll treat us to lunch. Who knows? Perhaps someone will walk your way in this next week.”
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Post by draco abraxas malfoy on Jul 19, 2011 13:11:04 GMT -5
[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. He'd gotten away with it? The question would be a simple one to ask, really, if asking did not reveal the fact that every word had been nothing to do with the truth (except for the fact of his father being in prison, thanks to the fools at the Ministry and the prat that was Potter). Getting away with it did make him visibly relax though, as it always did, and a small smile crept onto his face as his words, though nonsense, were accepted. Let it not be said that Draco Malfoy was not a top class improviser indeed.
His smile grew wider when her arms came around him and pulled him closer. Draco gave no thought to how this might look if anyone was watching, he did not care. The embrace was so familiar, like the words and the voice and the tone of speech and he simply melted against her warm body. Molding his shape against hers and closing his eyes. His mother. Younger, but he could not deny it was her. And no child, not even a Malfoy brought up cold and offhand compared to blood traitor families (or so he believed), would turn away from the offered comfort of their mother.
Here she was safe. Not hurting. And so was he. Thinking like that was almost enough to wipe the imagined pictures of the mother he could remember being tortured into insanity or dying, lying cold on the floors of the manor and paying the price for his father's failure. Those pictures hurt, and made him feel and show too much emotions. No one could know about that.
Gathering himself together again was rather easy seeing as the clasps on his control had never fully been undone. He inclined his head slightly, a little in agreement, but not enough to pull away from her hand smoothing down his hair (which was almost enough to make those clasps undo if he lingered his mind on it). Instead, he focussed on her words as she had done to his. As Narcissa Malfoy had always really done for his words and his words alone. "It does hell for my skin," he commented, referring to holidays spent in the villa the family actually did own in the heat of the south of spain.
Holidays which had ended up with him locking himself back into his wing of the manor and refusing to see another human until the raw red burn of his skin had been healed by the panicking house elves. "Tanning would be preferrable to what I undergo. Malfoy's were bred to be beautiful...not to undergo heavy exposure to the sun down there. I burn like flams are directly licking my skin even with the heavy protection spells around there. It is most irritating. The sun in Italy and Greece is almost as bad. But...the markets and people are slightly more beautiful." |
[/b] The fashions in Italy, in particular, were most attractive. Him and his mother enjoyed spending hours browsing the royal stalls in that country. No, he would not have been able to turn down that offer. The opportunity to be in a familiar setting was too great to resist, and to meet his grandparents...yes, definately. He smiled at her softly as she described it, features which he would not say that he already had intimate knowledge about (though, admittedly, intimate was the wrong word to use, company for him had been restricted over there other than Pansy and Blaise, Crabbe and Goyle). "They contain...white peacocks. The show of wealth, I believe. Beautiful creatures. And...it sounds utterly charming. I would be delighted. I may have to open conversations with Lucius to avoid any sabbotage on his part, however."[/b] Which was something he had been hoping to avoid for as long as possible. Seeing his mother had been more important. The amount of detail she knew about the younger version of his father did not escape his notice, and he barely hid an extra hint to his smile at that realisation. For someone who claimed not to like him, she knew a lot of details. The sign of that was certainly a good thing. Of course, Draco knew they would get together (he was living proof of that), but slight things did make him worry about it. "If he has not gathered himself together in a weeks time, completely under control and suitable to hold your hand...well, you two would make such a beautiful image. Not as nice as oneself, of course," he added with a small, teasing smirk. Teasing, not taunting. You did not taunt family. "Don't apologise though. Either way, the ball is meant to be entertaining. We should make it so, no matter who you go with. And...shopping is always a delightful pastime. As is lunch." He chuckled slightly at her last comment however, pursing his lips in an almost affronted look once composed. "From what I have seen, none of the gentlemen in this establishment are worthy to accompany me. I wish my friend was here. We had such fun when we went to a ball held at one Yuletide, together. Even if she was wearing a pretty awful dress. Pink. And Ruffly." The memory was enough to make him shudder delicately. [/blockquote] [/div] TAGGED: SWEET CISSA WORDS: 1000+
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Post by `narcissa virga black on Jul 20, 2011 14:47:33 GMT -5
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beautiful & dirty rich , “I can’t say that the sunlight and I are on close, familiar terms either. I was never let outside as a child without potion smeared across my exposed skin and a parasol. Though I rather liked the lace umbrellas my mother had; there were many things, when I was a child that could easily make me feel like a princess. But my scalp always burned, no matter what I would do. I’d have these little blonde curls coming from a ruby-red patch of skin. And of course I wasn’t permitted to scratch after it finally began to heal and mother was worried putting anything on it would discolor or make my hair fall out.” She confessed, reached up to run a finger along the part in her, as if to check that the cloud-covered, autumn sun hadn’t had a sneak attack on her skin.
“Though I would take a burn any day of the year just to shop in Roman and Milan whenever I have the smallest whim to do so. Even the boutiques in London don’t get a thrill from me anymore. Father had to increase my stipend, though Merlin knows it won’t be the last time. He claims that there are few men who will be able to keep me in the lifestyle I’m accustomed to. I tell him that there are even fewer who will be alive and virile enough to produce an heir by the time I’m of a marriageable age.” Oh, Narcissa was a fan of shopping. She had a very classic and a very expensive taste in clothing. Her wardrobe was worth more than a small country and it was growing every day. She’d needed a trunk that was enchanted to handle more than her previous one simply because of her growing collection of school shoes.
Shoes were a weakness. Black pumps and ankle-boots were her downfall.
She had already picked out the dress she wanted for the Malfoy’s Christmas Eve gathering, returning to that topic. She never wore green or red to the event, as she found it cliché. Everyone knew what time of year it was and what they were celebrating; there was no need for anyone to actually blend in with the decorations. She would wear silver.
“Oh they are lovely, I would never disagree with you on that. They are a rival with the gardens for beauty. But I would rather have a colored peacock with its tail spread over a white one. And would much rather have a colored peacock quill than the albino ones, though I was given a set after one of Abraxas’ lawn ornaments died the year I started school.”
She grinned cheekily just then, tilting her head to the side. “And I dare say he will not win my hand for a single dance if he thinks another set of quills will woo me properly. He may not even attempt to win me, but assume he’s taking me as a date. No matter what occurs though, I should love to save you a dance or two; we will dazzle the rest of the school. Do you like to dance? Do you dance well? I often wish that the two were one and the same but unfortunately my toes and I are proof that they’re not.”
Narcissa did love dancing. And she was good at it. She’d had a dance master for a young age, her parents hoping that ballet would instill grace in the girl that neither of her sisters had possessed. It had. Her favorite dance had and probably always would be the waltz, so long as she had a decent partner of course.
“And also, no matter, what we still should plan a Hogsmeade trip together if you find shopping as delightful as I do- and as you seem to think it is. Shopping is never a waste; one can always use a new outfit. And as you transfer students seem to think less of the uniform during and after class-hours than we do, I do believe I need to invest in a few more outfits for the year. And I never mind helping a male friend purchase new clothing, especially if one needs a new three-piece suit for under your robes.”
Her eyes glittered and she began to stand. The bells had begun to ring from the old clock tower. Her free period, which had been more enjoyable than she had previously thought, was over. “I will see you around, won’t I? That is, if you are to begin speaking to Lucius and he is beginning to stalk me I think that it is inevitable. Of course, we also share a house and one should never be parted from a new friend for long.”
In this time she had already forgotten the mark on her face, the terrible time she’d had in her previous class, and the robe that had disappeared into the lake when she had declared it completely ruined. She ran her hands over the clothing that remained untainted from the greenhouses and fixed her sweater. Narcissa returned her belongings to her bag before offering a rather wide and honest smile towards this Draco Malfoy.
“And if you ever do wish to talk about your mother and father, I can always lend you a shoulder and ear. If we are to be friends and alliances it is the least I can do,” she nodded, lifting the bag over her shoulder. She had done a lot of talking (partially because she liked to hear her own voice and partially because she liked to talk about herself) but she was not immune to caring for someone if their lives seemed…sad.
“Good afternoon, Mister Malfoy.”
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Post by draco abraxas malfoy on Jul 20, 2011 18:14:22 GMT -5
[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. He had already known that, of course. His mother had remarked much more than once that Draco must have inherited not only his slight figure from her, but also her irritating vulnerability to the sun. And he had known about the parasol as well. As a child, on holiday in the more tropical regions, his mother had often equipped him with one. A little one for a child, along with aristocratic child clothing, and he had walked along beside her, clutching the parasol above his head like a good little boy. Except he could vividly remember that both that and his long blonde hair had made him be referred to more than once as a little girl. Horrible memories, but he would not throw them away for anything. Not when he had been so young and the world had been the right way around and time had stayed in one river rather than meandering around itself.
Of course, he could not say any of that. He would have been carted off to St Mungo's immediently.
"We love to shop there...me and my mother, I mean. The streets and the markets, with all the bright colours and the vendors which you cannot visit anywhere else. Of course the sun is worth the risk in order to get first choice of the new ranges that always come out around there." And he was more than slightly alarmed to realised that he was not playing up those words at all. Draco did enjoy to shop, to spend money on trivals and luxuries. Clothing and suits and accessories...he let out a wry smile. The story about which sex was the fairer to him that he had given her would not be hard to stick to, it seemed.
"You will find someone," he said, his tone suddenly sure of himself, inclining his head seriously towards her, "I can promise you that. How could you ever not? And is my cousin not of the same age as you?" |
[/b] He added with a smirk, one learned from his 'cousin' himself (though he was not entirely sure whether Lucius Malfoy in this era had even picked up most of the things he had taught his son yet, however. Thinking about it made his head ache most unpleasently). "I will have to hold you to your descriptions. They are...most beautiful sounding, in my mind," and they were in real life. He felt another small pang of emotion at that, before forcing it away from his conscious mind. He could not dwell in the...well, future. Not anymore. "And I can most certainly dance! My...mother had such an affection and talent for it. She made me take lessons from an early age just so we could waltz together in our grounds, beneath the moon. As well as making me learn to play the piano so that I could be involved even when my feet were starting to ache. And...a trip to the village here is a must. Not only do I need to finish my outfit, but I have a feeling a new one for the Yule season will be needed for the time at the manor. I can not turn up looking like some street urchin, of course. What would my realtives think?"[/b] From what he knew of them, he was sure they would be horrified. But Draco had never liked to get messy anyway. His face fell slightly as the bells rang and she rose to her feet, but then the blond girls question about whether they would see each other again had him smiling once more. A true smile, not a Malfoy one, because how could he ever do anything otherwise? "Must you go so soon? A pity. But most certainly, sweet Narcissa. I would...honestly adore to spend more time with you." He wished he could say more, but Draco found his throat clammed up and his voice get lost in the depths of him after her next words. The offer bought a sad smile to his face as he stood up as well, brushing himself down almost reflexively. Talk to her about his parents? Impossible. Not without more lies, and lying to her...Would be tricky. But he inclined his head anyway, before inclining it slightly further into a gentlemenly bow of farewell. No reason not to be polite even if this meeting had both made him smile and want to cry. Politeness was wealth in certain circles. "Thanks to you, Miss Black, it has been. Thank you."[/blockquote] [/div] TAGGED: SWEET CISSA WORDS: 700+
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