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Post by narcissablack on Apr 22, 2010 15:30:40 GMT 1
“You dirty little beast!”
Narcissa Black did not know, for certain, what possessed her to take this class. Perhaps it was the whim of an overly spoiled thirteen year old. She'd known about creatures that were simply 'icky', but had never encountered them before she started taking Care of Magical Creatures. This wasn't to say she'd never encountered a magical creature before; it was really the only type she was familiar with!
Her country estate had more house elves then she could count and housed her father's stable of superb Abraxans and Aethonans. She herself claimed one of the winged, blonde (she favored anything with a similar hair hue to herself) creatures as her own. And she looked very pretty upon it too. Her great, great aunt Belvina kept a stable of unicorns up until her death; the ministry had taken them away. Narcissa had pitched a right fit- them taking away her inheritance like that. She even was familiar with the non-magical creature assortment. Two girls in her dorm room had frogs, and the rest had owls galore. Her own kitten, named for the Nymph who’d lured her namesake, had given her a good understanding of animals; they needed eat, sleep, and be cuddled like humans.
But this, she decided, still flinging her hand wildly at the crab like little monster that had attached itself to her wand. One of her class mates told her to simply poke the damned creature off. This was no creature; this was a beast! And like hell she'd put her carefully painted and creamed hand near a beast! She hadn't signed up for Being Attacked by Magical Infestations, Bugs, and Beasts! Cissa tossed her wand to the ground, letting out another cry of outrage- her blonde hair swinging. A slew of rather unlady like words ripped from the girls mouth as she tried to pry one from her hair.
“Miss Black I told students to forgo bringing any magical wear or supplies for this very reason...” But Narcissa ignored the teacher, eyes welling up as someone finally came to her rescue and pulled the damned thing from her locks. As if she’d go anywhere without her wand. Grabbing it- the Chizpurfle finally having abandoned the wand- she grabbed her bag from the corner of the yard set aside for care of magical creatures class.
“I-I have to go to the nurse for emotional stress and possible hair loss.” She said dramatically, her voice wavering as she walked away from the group. She heard the flustered teacher simply dismiss class, and Cissa melded with the group of students walking back to the castle.
Narcissa fought tears as she combed her fingers through her hair, searching for anything else that could have taken up lodging in her locks as if it was a cheap downtown London boarding home. The tips of her soft fingers pressed against her scalp making sure she didn't have any bald spots in her finely kept hair; it was her best feature. Cissa didn't know what she'd do if she found a gaping hole in her hair; probably sue or something. There was, most likely, a hair regrowth potion she could make, but she was never good at potions.
She, if she was one of the other students, would have been happy to get a class period off. They wouldn't have to work with those ghastly little beasties ever again and it was all thanks to her selfless act of being attacked by them. Martyred for them. But not willingly, she supposed, so she wasn't really a martyr. She'd have wished the little demons on any of the other students in her year.
It was just then, by the lake, that her fingers found the dreaded patch. It wasn’t big, hardly half toe diameter of a knut. However, the mere thought of a bald spot on her perfect little scalp made her let slip a cry of anguish. Her lips quivered, her eyes began misting up. Cissa dropped her bag and fell to her knees, digging through her satchel one-handedly (she didn’t dare remove her finger tips from the alleged spot) for a mirror. She needed to see the damage (as much as she dreaded it). Perhaps she could cover the spot and slip off to the Hospital Wing unnoticed. She let out the first whimper and a whole string of them.
When know compact was to be found, she bent over the water, pushing away her top layer of hair in hopes to get a better view of the offending spot. The spot, unable to be found, combined with the dirt pressed against her (now surely ruined) stalkings, the humiliation she’d just endured, and the further wretched plays at her that were to come were very nearly pushing her past her limits. Narcissa Black was never pushed past her limits.
If it hadn’t been for the sudden presence (announced by a rather loud throat clearing) she would have burst into tears on the spot. And now she’d been caught.
Today was turning out to be a very, very terrible day.
Notes: Reused and improved! (like a reformed prostitute.) Open, open, open (if you don't mind blatant recycling, anyways)! Words: 887 Muse: 'Cissa playlist. Peers: Anyone, wide open. Bonus points if you've contacted me/posted in my plot thread.
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Post by jamespotter on Apr 22, 2010 21:59:30 GMT 1
It was one of those rare January days that was actually sunny and decently warm. Glad to get out and away from yet another one of Professor Sprout's lectures on the importance of their O.W.L.s. Of course she gave them that lecture just after she loaded them down with an essay on Fanged Geraniums. Swinging his book bag to his shoulder as he exited Greenhouse 3 amongst the other students. Walking past the dragon dung compost the crowd soon dispersed and James found himself wandering about the grounds and in the direction of the lake. He had a break in classes and figured it would be a good time to work on the marauder project while enjoying the warmth of the sun.
The "marauder project" being making a map of Hogwarts, finding and utilizing the secrets held within and upon the school's grounds. He was counting paces as he left the greenhouse to the lake, to verify the accuracy of what they had already. Pausing when he reached the lake to scratch a few numbers on a small piece of parchment. They wanted the map as accurate as possible, after all it was going to be their legacy. It was surprising how much they had already put to parchment. But it was nowhere near completion. There was a lot of work yet to be done, most of it having to do with the interior of the castle. The exterior part was complete and needing some fine tuning so to speak.
His mission complete he continued on around the shores edge, pausing every now and then to pick up a flat rock and skip across the water. Splash .... splash .... splash ... splash ... plunk. He got almost five skips out of that one. He continued on coming to a small creek that emptied into the lake. He turned from the shore and took the worn path along the creek to a crossing point. The crossing being of several well placed stones that one could step on to get to the other side with dry feet as long as the creek wasn't flooded. He stepped onto the first stone and then hopped over to the second, which shifted under his feet. Easily keeping his balance he moved to the third then back to solid ground. Again following a worn path back towards the lake.
Emerging from the path he rounded a large tree trunk and saw a girl on her knees bent over the edge of the water. At first he didn't recognize her, then as he move closer it dawned on him who it was. Narcissa, little miss perfect, everything prim and proper Black down in the mud at the waters edge. Suddenly he smiled when a rather evil thought crossed his mind. One that involved a slight push and a loud splash that would no doubt be followed by a louder shriek as the ice cold water smacked her in the face and chilled her whole body. A perfect opportunity, too bad Sirius wasn't here to see it! Eager with anticipation he moved quietly closer. This was going to be so good, so delicious ...
He heard a whimper. The sound a girl makes when they are about to cry. Dang she did have to take all the fun out of the situation. He folded his arms across his chest and slightly tilted his head clearing his throat just before he spoke. "Wallowing in the mud, eh? Is that your new look Black?" He stepped closer to get a better look, unfolding his hands he squatted resting his hands on his knees, he looked at her face with a faked concerned look. "I've heard mud could do wonders for a troubled complexion like yours, but doesn't that entail you actually putting the mud on your face?"
He laughed, stood up and stepped back, not knowing how she would react to his insult. Who knows he still may get that chance to push her.
word count: 670 Comment: if her day was terrible... it just got worse lol
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Post by narcissablack on Apr 22, 2010 23:48:58 GMT 1
[Narcissa Black was known for a number of things. Her family had garnered her first bouts of infamy; the Black family name was just one of those old names that flashed and drew your attention. Blacks were always in the light- whether it be good or bad. However, that had been only a stepping stone for the blonde beauty. She’d established a name for herself since she’d burst into her teenage years; parties spread from her fingertips and her name danced upon the lips of gossipers. She was a glorious, ineffably beautiful hostess. But she had a vile, vile temper.
It was the temper she was quickly becoming known for, especially amongst her peers. It hard started when she was a young thing with world renowned temper tantrums. No one, not even the strict Cygnus Black, could say no to the narrowed baby-blues and balled fists of the toddler Narcissa. It hadn’t stopped as she’d grown in age. In fact, she seemed to learn how to better her fits and words to get what she wanted more easily. Insults darted from her like sharp darts. She lashed out (eloquently, it must be said) as if her tongue was merely a pretty pink captain’s daughter.
And as Miss Black kneeled in the mud, on the very brink of tears as she clutched to her beloved scalp, it was very likely that anyone, no matter their relationship to her, alliances, or birth name, would be ripped to pieces by her volatile temper and tongue. She heard the boy approach. It wasn’t hard in the January environment they were in. The wind was still whipping, changing tones as a body got into its way. And with each step any individual took an ugly sucking and squelching noise was released from the mud pits of the ground. Footsteps were even louder as you neared the lake; the water had risen up in the winter and slopped along the edges making them a breeding ground for mess and muck. If she hadn’t been so desperate for the slightest reflection from the ice-cold water she wouldn’t have ventured so near.
She knew instantly who it was, with the smallest peek in her peripheral vision. He was another unmistakable student at Hogwarts. The tousled hair, the roguish smile, the way his voice gave an air of obscene, overrated confidence. She wanted to forget that she was a lady and firmly introduce the palm of her hand to the curve of his cheek. She doubted that would teach him any sort of less, but it would provide enough relief for her own pleasure.
Mud, mud, mud. She nearly chocked as she did realize her knees were buried in the mess. She’d sob for a full hour in the bath later tonight. Nightmares about the mess would dance behind her eyelids as she slept. Hell, who knew how long this would affect her for!? Cissa ground her teeth together, arching an eyebrow as she turned her head up at Potter.
“It is not. But no matter, you’ll be seeing each and every girl in this wretched school imitating my messy mistake by the end of the day.” The secondary comment, however, could not be let slip. There were certain things that caused ‘Cissa’s temper to fly off the handle more than others. Insults to her blood lineage were the first, quickly followed by insults upon her purity and reputation. However, nestled in between the two in levels of severity were insults upon her visage. And one thrown towards the way of her complexion- which was far from blotchy and requiring an intense mud treatment, thank you very much- could not be accepted with good graces. Especially in her current mood from the current person.
She eyed his person, shaking slightly as he squatted in the uneven mud. Why she’d show that little twerp who insulted Narcissa Black and got away with it- no one. Reaching up one pale hand with mud -unfortunately- dug under the nails, she wrapped her fingers into the collar of his shirt and tie of his not. Her fingers scraped against flesh and cheap cotton blend. Narcissa met his eyes for a few elongated seconds before she yanked with all her might- sending him towards the lake of ice cold water.
She stumbled under the weight of his body and her pull, wetting her shoes and feet just a little as she let go of her breath. She hadn’t realized she had been holding it.
“It’s not my complexion you need to be worrying about, Potter. But cold water is good for your pores!”
Notes: hehehe. You gave me the idea, unfortunately! Words: 769 Muse: Women Cops. heh. Peers: Potter! D:
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Post by jamespotter on Apr 23, 2010 8:27:56 GMT 1
It is not. But no matter, you’ll be seeing each and every girl in this wretched school imitating my messy mistake by the end of the day
"Oh I highly doubt they would go for the smell or the look. The pond scum look doesn't seem all that attractive."
Yes Cissa was a sight. Down in the stinky, smelling of dead fish, slimy mud. Little Miss perfect, with the perfect hair, perfect skin, perfect outfit, down to her perfect nails. Yes she was a perfect catch for families that cared about all that appearance stuff. Very striking to most men. But James has always found her a bit narrow between the eyes. Narrow minded that is, thinking she was better than everyone, putting herself on a pedestal above everyone, snobbish. Then of course there was the 'pureblood' thing. Oh so highly important for the Blacks to remain pure. Sometimes he wondered if they were 'breeding' show dogs instead of humans. Arranging marriages, checking out pedigrees ... the whole idea was sickening. Frankly he thought that the entire black family was insane or mental, probably from inbreeding, except for Ande and Sirius of course. Funny he had alway gotten along with Andromeda. He guessed sanity skipped in that family.
One thing that didn't skip was the Black temper. They ALL had it including Sirius and Ande. He has seen Cissa's temper first hand on many occasions. He knew the second she looked at him that her anger was going to be vented and quickly. The only problem was he didn't anticipate her getting physical. He figured it would be a verbal assault along with a wand. That he was ready for. Not for what happened next as she reached up grabbing his collar, he could feel her claws rip his skin causing blood to well up and mix with the mud and soak into the white cotton shirt. Then she yanked him hard pulling him forward. Which normally she would not have been able to do, but they were in the mud and the footing was slippery at best. He fought to keep his balance and nearly succeeded except when she stumbled he fell over her feet.
It’s not my complexion you need to be worrying about, Potter. But cold water is good for your pores!
He'd laugh at the irony of the situation if he'd had time. Wasn't she suppose to be the one flying helplessly through the air towards the icy water? Instead it was him, he tried to reach out and grab her to stop his fall. He actually got ahold of something but it ripped. Clutching the piece of clothing he continued the plunge towards the water. He hit the icy water with a splash, but his right temple hit something solid, a rock hidden just under the surface of the water. A white light of pain exploded in his head then everything faded to a sea of black. He was floating on the water, face down, unmoving.
Word Count 450 Comments: Cops heh? Bad girl, bad girl what you gonna do when they come for you?
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Post by narcissablack on Apr 23, 2010 15:28:20 GMT 1
“It doesn’t need to be attractive, so long as someone fantastic is wearing it.”
This was true. No matter how ridiculous a piece of fashion was, as soon as someone ‘in’ donned whatever the hell the piece was everyone wanted it. That’s how fashion had always been, from the very beginnings of it. Surely men and women both had found the bits of cloth and whalebone that were the first corsets disgusting- and mutilating to the body. Eventually they became common, and then they became a sex icon of a brazen woman (well. Those were the more intricate ones. There were more basic ones that had been forced upon her that were more for duty than design. Those were just marked as traditional, except by a rogue sexual deviant). High-heeled pumps couldn’t have been thought of as anything too great either when they’d first popped up on the scene, but now it was hard to find a woman without at least a few pairs (Narcissa herself had 47 pairs of pumps alone). He was just a typical, typical boy not knowing a thing about the inner workings of fashion.
And typical boy to not be more on his guard when around Narcissa Black. He wasn’t the only one to have ever let his guard drop down before her, thinking she some small little wisp of a weak little girl. Even those who’d been only subjected to the lash of her tongue in a spat remark against anything from their blood to the spots on their face regretted letting her get the best of them. Sometimes the harshest, scariest things came in small, pretty packages. Though, to be honest, she hadn’t thought she’d been able to send the boy so hard and so fast and so forcefully down to the water. His large, manly, oafish feet had collided with her own petite feet, sending sharp paints up her shins as he fell into the water.
She was too preoccupied with her own pains, at first, to realize he’d hit his head. She’d bent down, pressing the mud-caked tops of her shows slightly to make sure she could still feel her toes. If he’d broken even the smallest pinky nail, she’d burst into tears (or smack him, whichever came first). However, on the bright side, she’d completely forgotten the incident with her hair only half an hour before hand. Hell, she even forgot the pain in her foot when she caught sight of Potter.
She’d been expecting him to make some sort of nasty, spluttered remark when he resurfaced. He had not, but then again, he really had not resurfaced. She swore loudly, chastising herself for the foul language as she grabbed her forgotten wand off the ground. Now she’d have to rescue the bloke or risk having killed him. And that would not please her father in the slightest.
Narcissa wiped off her shoes and stockings, tossing the ruined objects to the side as she hiked her skirt and bottom of her robes jut slightly. No need to ruin anything else, or get a shoe that could possibly be fixed with a cleaning charm lost in the muddy bowels of the lake. She took a few steps into the water, her fingers tightening on the material as she felt something cold tickle her toes. An anguished cry escaped her lip as something much larger brushed against her leg. Oh she hated, hated, hated beasties! She bit her lip to prevent another sob from escaping her mouth over them. Finally, a little past the knees in, she grabbed hold of Potter’s arm and yanked him to shore.
She bent over his body (she’d left the lower portion of it hanging in the freezing water for good measure. No need to give up all of her revenge), her eyes wide and scanning. She poked at his head first, a lump already forming beneath the skull, and then jabbed her wand (more forcefully than needed, if she was honest) against his chest. Luckily, for the both of them, if there was one bit of magic Narcissa was proudly proficient in, it was healing charms. That was a woman’s sort of magic her father had let her pursue, something she thanked Merlin for under her breath. If she killed him…
Narcissa scowled just slightly. He didn’t seem to be coming to quick enough, at least not quick enough for her. She was debating just what to do when she noticed the tear. Somehow he’d managed to rip a bit of her sweater off; her expensive, custom ordered, Italian stitched sweater. Ugh! There. She’d found her means of her revival. Reaching up her right hand she slapped his face forcefully, and then (for good measure) back handed the other side.
“If you don’t wake up within sixty seconds, I’m going to use a nasty charm and castrate you, you filthy bastard. Sixty…..fifty-nine….fifty-eight…”
Notes: Cissa's impatient. And worried, inside. I assumed she could drag him about as he was unconscious :) Words: 816 Muse: 'Cissa's playlist. Peers: Potter! D:
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Post by jamespotter on Apr 23, 2010 19:41:50 GMT 1
The unconscious state is void of any feelings or sensations. An empty darkness that time is stopped in. For one is not aware of their surroundings, actually you are not aware of anything, that is until you start to come out of it. Slaps to the face, a poke with a wand and his freezing, ice cold and wet body went unnoticed. A voice came to him, sounding distant, far away, counting down .... fifty-nine….fifty-eight… His mind locked on the voice as he struggled to come fully conscious. A moan escaped from his lips. Yes awareness was coming back slowly.
Bitter cold, that is what he felt, that and a throbbing acute pain in his head. Shivering uncontrollably, so much so it rattled his teeth. It was cold, so very, very cold. He opened his eyes, blinking several times, trying to focus through the pain and fuzziness on the person beside him. For he could make out Narcissa through all the confusion. Gathering all his remaining strength he shakily raised an ice cold, pale hand, reaching out, and placing it on her shoulder, he half raised himself, pulling his body closer to hers, closer to warmth.
It was so not a good idea to move, as a wave of nausea and dizziness overcame him. He turned his head and rose his pleading eyes to meet hers. "H..he...help me!" he stuttered through violent shivering, that sent small waves rippling through the cold water where half his body laid still. Nausea rolled through his stomach again. Coughing, unable to control his shaking leaning in closer he spewed vomit. Not knowing what he was doing, if he got sick on her or not. All he knew is that he was so very cold, freezing cold and he was unable to keep himself up. He sank back to the muddy ground shivering he rolled on his side and tried to curl up in a ball for warmth. Dragging his legs as far out of the water he could. Realizing he couldn't feel them or his feet. Without looking at Cissa he begged again "pa... pa.. pleze .... ha....ha ...help."
Would she help him? He highly doubted it. Why would she raise a single finger to save him? Unless it was to save herself from Azkaban. Would ruin her chances for a prim and proper marriage being behind bars for murder. It wasn't as if he was a muggle, he was from a pureblood family too. So yeah there would be an investigation. Shivering he realized he could die right here, freezing to death. Would it be painful or would he just slip into a sleep not to awaken, so not how he pictured an ending to his life.
word count 454 Comment: hehe
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Post by narcissablack on Apr 23, 2010 23:30:36 GMT 1
Now what was she going to do with him? Narcissa’s heart raced as he came to, spluttering water and saliva into the air before him. His features were pale and tinted the blue of a man who’d fallen through the ice. She hadn’t realized, while worrying as she pulled him to the shore, just how cold it was. Her own toes were starting to sting with pain from the chilled air whipping the tenderly cold skin. She cringed slightly, feeling the slightest remorse. However, it was only brought about because she felt parts of his pain. Normally she’d be fine to let him freeze in a sopping blue mess for someone else to pick up. But now she had a sliver of his pain and couldn’t help the swell of at the base of her throat.
Merlin be damned.
She felt pressure on her shoulder as he lifted himself up, her arm extending just slightly to help him. Of course, she quickly withdrew her limb when he began to heave and vomit. She was just quick enough to escape with only the smell lingering on her and up her nose. She gagged from the sight and smell, her small hand covering her nose and mouth as she swooned. This, besides her breeding that made her too fabulous for such a job, was why she couldn’t be a healer. She could not stand the smells, the retching, the nearness to a patient it required. That and her lack of people skills who simply did not deserve it. She could have been a personal healer or midwife (as it would limit just who she came into contact with) but then there was the issue of people skills and smells and mess again. Her stomach rolled again.
Thankfully the boy appeared to have common sense and he lay back down to prevent more hurling and chucking. Narcissa was able to remove the hand from her mouth as he did so. She eyed the situation for a few seconds before she yanked on his sopping wet form, pulling him as far from the water as she could. Raising a shaking wand hand (the smell was starting to make her dizzy), she murmured a heating spell. She checked quickly to make sure that heat, not cold, was indeed radiating from the tip of her wand before aiming it at him, moving it up and down the length of his body.
“You know potter, you’re going to owe me after this. Should have looked were you fell and whatnot." She said, trying to keep her tone firm and well…bitchy. No need for him to know the panic that was filling her body. If she killed him…damnable Merlin she’d be left to rot in Azkaban or as an old spinster. The latter was far worse and almost brought tears back to her eyes.
She tucked her legs beneath her skirts, trying to keep them desperately warm. It would not due for her to lose toes and limbs to save his pathetic life. Spinning around (while keeping her wand pointed at him), she examined what was in the pile she’d abandoned only a few feet away. Narcissa grabbed at her bag and cloak, tossing the warm material over his body (it was going to be ruined now, she mourned inwardly). Tossing open the bag she skimmed her charms book. She hadn’t been sure if she could use the levitation charm on a human body. Finding no material the contrary, she bit her lip. Nothing worse could happen, right? Her heart raced even faster, a loud thud in her ears, as she heard another groan pass Potter’s lips.
“Bastard Potter, I’m going to levitate you. Hold the cloak and don’t you dare let it fall into the mud.” She said. She packed her things up as best she could one handed, tucking her poor feet into her disgusting shoes. She’d have a sob in the warm showers as soon as she returned to the castle. She kept the wand pointed at him for a few more moments as she fixed herself the best she could and tucked her bag over her shoulder. Finally she stood up, ending the heating charm, and cast ‘wingardium leviosa’ with one eye closed. She let out a sigh of relief as he rose slowly instead of doing something terrible, like turning into a beetle. She’d lost her mother’s prize silver tea tray once by turning it into a beetle using the very same spell.
It took longer than usual to walk to the infirmary. Luckily traffic was almost nonexistent. She guessed the next class and started and those who had free periods were hiding in front of the fire in the common rooms. It’s where she wanted to be just then. However the walk was perhaps one of the longest she’d ever taken up to Madame Pomfrey. She was sure everyone was staring at her, questioning just why The Narcissa Black looked like she’d taken a tumble with a boy in a pig’s trough. Or why she was directing what could easily be a corpse.
It didn’t take near as long to explain the situation to the young healer who’d begun only shortly before her first year. Her mother had wanted to hire the woman for her confinement but had been told that wasn’t what the woman had wanted to pursue. The woman was already busy with him by the time Narcissa opened her mouth to offer an explanation (One already brewing in her mind to put the whole situation in her favor).
“He…he fell into the lake, Ma’am. I had a terrible accident in Care of Magical Creatures and got out early when I saw him messing around on the edge. Not wanting anything dangerous to happen I went to warn him, but he’d already slipped on the mud and toppled in. I ran to save him, but I think he’s hit his head…or something.”
Her tone was far different from the one she’d used on the boy. In fact, it was far different from the one she’d used on her teacher less than an hour ago. It was one that she used to get into good graces, one used to win people to her side. And who wouldn’t want to look proudly at a girl who’d just saved a rival house member from drowning and dying?
“I tried to heal what I could and keep him warm, but I’m not nearly as skilled as you are- of course. I brought him up as soon as he stopped vomiting.” Flattery, her inner little being smirked, will get you anywhere and everywhere.
Notes: Don't worry at all about matching length if you don't want to. This kind of just spilled out. Hope you don't mind the change of scenery! Merlin be damned if she's going to let him die and her take the blame. Words: 1,109 Muse: Pandora playlists: 'I'll make a man out of you' and 'Cats (original Broadway cast recording)' Peers: James D:
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Post by jamespotter on Apr 24, 2010 21:02:34 GMT 1
He laid their teeth chattering and his body shivering looking at her mud and slime encrusted legs. Trying desperately to keep conscious by concentrating on.... her toes. Yes he picked her toes out to keep him in the here and now, not off drifting into the black fathoms that threatened to overtake him. Why was she barefoot? It wasn't a hot summers day where one would kick off ones shoes and cool your feet in the lake. It was January, in the dead of winter. Who in their right mind went barefoot that time of the year? Which brings him back to the question was Narcissa EVER in her right mind? She shifted her weight and the mud oozed between her toes, welling up and spreading over the top of them.
He blinked several times, how much time has passed? Was she going to help him or just stay there and watch him die? Finally she moved. The toes moved from his line of sight. He could feel her pulling at his legs, pulling them out of the water. Or maybe he couldn't really feel that at all. His legs were numb from being in the icy water so long, perhaps his mind registered that fact by seeing her from his peripheral vision, he wasn't sure. It was hard to be sure of anything at this point. Between the violent shivering and the severe pounding going on in his head. He closed his eyes against the pain. Instinctively raising his right hand to his temple, carefully probing the area to see what the damage was. Though he couldn't properly tell anything in his condition. He could feel a lump and wetness. Suddenly he began to feel some warmth. He opened his eyes to see Cissa standing over him with her wand, performing some sort of charm.
You know potter, you’re going to owe me after this. Should have looked were you fell and whatnot.
Do what? She has got to be kidding? he thought as he moved his hand back down, glancing at it as he did so. His hand was covered in blood and mud from a head wound. Oh yes Narcissa I AM going to owe you and the payback is going to be hell. Should have looked where he was falling, bloody hell he was thrown, attacked and jerked off balance by an equally off balanced Black. He would have said that out loud had he the energy. But he didn't, he was so tired, so he laid there closing his eyes again, basking in the little warmth of the spell she was casting. Probably in a normal situation that spell would have been fine. But he had been totally submerged in icy cold water, lowering his core temperature to dangerous levels and it didn't help any that half of his body was left laying in the water, so the spell was doing little at best to warm him.
He felt something fall on him, something that added a little warmth and cut the wind from reaching his wet body. He opened his eyes to see Cissa adjusting a cloak over him. His body still shivering uncontrollably. He thought of trying to thank her but came to the conclusion that it was too much effort, besides she attacked him. He would not be in this situation if it wasn't for her temper. Really did the comment he made to her, was it that bad to foster such a response? Then there was the fact that he was still nauseated. If he opened his mouth there was a really good chance it would be to throw up not to say thank you, which was sickening in itself.
Bastard Potter, I’m going to levitate you. Hold the cloak and don’t you dare let it fall into the mud.
Master Potter? Wow he hadn't been called that since primer school back in Godric's Hollow. My ... my... why the sudden politeness? His body started to rise. WHAT!? wait, you are doing what? he thought through a sudden sea of dizziness and a new round of nausea. Moaning he tried to fight it but couldn't. Lucky for him though he was still on his side as he was levitated, his stomach heaved and yet a second time he threw up. Most of it falling to the ground, splattering as it hit. Some landed on the corner of the cloak that hung off that side.
It took her forever to move him, to get him to the castle or so he thought. Was she taking the scenic route he wondered? The castle wasn't that far away was it? He was having a hard time trying to figure that out and recognizing his surroundings. The more they moved the more confused and dizzier he got. Afraid he'd get sick yet again he shut his eyes. At least that way he didn't have to try to focus on any thing, he'd just have that moving sensation to deal with.
The next thing he knew or felt was being lowered onto a bed. He opened his eyes and saw the healer pulling a screen around his bed. She approached him removed the cloak, balling it up she set it aside. Then she began removing his clothing, slipping a gown on him. She'd clean him up later, her main priority was getting his body temperature up. The boy was so pale it actually scared her. If it wasn't for the fact he was looking at her, she would have sworn he was dead. His was breathing that shallow. She pulled the covers over him. She went to a drawer and pulled out more blankets, returning to him, stopping on the way to pick up a potion from a cabinet. As she continued to administer to him he heard Cissa offer up an explanation.
He…he fell into the lake, Ma’am. I had a terrible accident in Care of Magical Creatures and got out early when I saw him messing around on the edge. Not wanting anything dangerous to happen I went to warn him, but he’d already slipped on the mud and toppled in. I ran to save him, but I think he’s hit his head…or something.
A look of shock and astonishment spread across his face. A look that he was sure that Madam Pomfrey saw too as she was looking right at him. As he opened his mouth to dispute the claim several spoonfuls of potions were shoved in. Silencing him for the moment. An inner warmth began to spread through him along with overwhelming drowsiness.
I tried to heal what I could and keep him warm, but I’m not nearly as skilled as you are- of course. I brought him up as soon as he stopped vomiting
Pomfrey was no fool. Her main concern right now was for her patients. Not explanations. That would be for Headmaster to sort out. She looked down at the now sleeping boy, adjusted a blanket, then turning she picked up the cloak and went to her next patient, Miss Black. Oh yes there was no way she was letting the girl go either. Granted she wasn't in the condition Potter was in, but she was covered in the same now drying mud and exposed to the same elements by her own admission she had been in the lake too. Besides she would rather error on the side of caution than incur the wrath of the Black family if anything happened to their youngest.
"You did just fine, probably saved his life" she paused picking up a fresh gown "Now lets get you cleaned up and in bed." She handed the girl the cloak and gown, then taking her by her arm escorted her to the bed next to Potters
Word Count: 1167 (didn't worry about matching .. i just went kinda wild lol) Comment: Hope you don't mind Hospital Hospitality ... Couldn't see Poppy letting you go back to your dorm without at least keeping you overnight for exposure... lol
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Post by narcissablack on Apr 24, 2010 22:39:51 GMT 1
Narcissa scowled pointedly as the woman handed her the cloak. Ruined. Absolutely, irreparably ruined. Not even her mother’s best house elf could save the abysmal face of her cloak. She’d have to order another one, it wouldn’t do to have only two cloaks are her disposal, only one of which black. It had been her warmest too, a high collar and charmed pockets for her fingers. It was good, at least, that the winter was soon ending. The blonde girl couldn’t imagine having to spend the coldest time of the year in the castle without that cloak. Every floor seemed unable to hold heat, but the dungeons were notably the worst. The cold rooms beneath the castle could freeze exposed fingers if you pressed them to the walls for a few moments too long. Slytherins came together more closely during the winter months, crowding around the fire, squishing ten people to a loveseat, and hands clamped together . She dropped the cloak to the floor just in time to accept the cloth thrust into her arms but Madame Pomfrey. She arched an eyebrow at the cotton blend material, clearing her throat. This would not due. Not in the least. She opened her mouth to argue. Surely she didn’t need to stay. All Narcissa needed was a warm bath, possible a shower too, and a good layer of her French soaps and perfumes to rid herself of the terrible memory that was that day. The elder woman would have none of it. Narcissa placed the gown on the bed next to Potter’s, the one she apparently would be spending the night in. The curtain that separated her bed from the others and the outside environment slapped shut against the stone wall with a foreboding snap. She swallowed, pulling her sweater and skirt off just in time to have a towel wrapped around her body. She shed the rest of her clothing under the warm fluffy thing.
The next quarter of an hour reminded her exceedingly of her childhood and her governess. It was almost as if she was having a childhood flash back; a disturbing, terrifying flash back. The woman pushed her into a sitting position on the bed and then filled a basin besides her bed with scalding hot water. Narcissa bit her lip, dreading the moment when the wash cloth was dipped into the water and then slapped against her back- steam still rising from the cloth. She let out a small gasp and the nurse shushed her. It was Narcissa’s understanding that muggle children didn’t have as much to fear from a topple in the mud, at least nothing more than a mother’s wrath. However if they only knew the dirty infestations and beasties that could do terrible, terrible things if left on the flesh, that inhabited the pools of mud and water near wizarding homes and locations. The worst sorts of bugs and creatures in her world were attracted to magic, and it hit her as she was permitted to wash her own hands as the nurse began on her legs just what sorts of things could be lurking on her skin just then. Another whimper burst from her lips.
When every inch of her body from the neck down was deemed clean by Pomfrey, Narcissa’s head was suddenly pushed back into the bowl of still boiling hot water. She barely contained the gasp of pain before she was allowed to sit up again. The woman began going through her hair with a fine toothed come. How did this all remind her of her childhood? Her governess. The woman had been a large force to be reckoned with and had kept every single one of the Black girls in check. Narcissa had gone through this sort of impersonal, painful scrubbing every single day of her childhood, and then been forced into painful hairstyles and tight shoes. ‘Pain es booty,’ the governess would croon, her accent still undeterminable to the blonde girl. Some of the girls in her year had made comments, girls obviously of not such good breeding and standing as she and her sisters, that they would kill to be bathed (it was clearly a luxurious idea, when not in practice). They had no idea of what they wished for.
The nurse let out a cry as, Narcissa guessed, she found her recent bald spot. Fine, let her think it’s from some sort of terrible creature while she’d been rescuing Potter. That was perfectly ay-okay with her alright. It made her even more the martyr- pretty Narcissa Black’s hair ruined as she saved a filthy, rotted, blood traitor. The idea almost tickled her pink. She loved being painted in such good light. She made a mental note to tell her closest alliances- they’d have a riot over the situation with her. Her burning scalp (now in pain from the heat and from the comb digging in her tender skin) felt the slightest relief as the woman began messaging in some sort of thick potion into it.
“You’ll wake up in the morning good as new,” the woman promised, wiping her hands on her apron and going to empty the basin as Narcissa dressed.
The blonde girl waited until she was sure there was no chance of her body being seen (for being as vain and narcissistic as she was, she hated when others saw her naked. She felt as if it impugned on her purity) before she dropped the towel to the floor. She pulled her under things back on as quickly as she could, the feeling of being exposed making her whole body flush bright red- or was that still the reaction from the blistering scrubbing she’d just received? Next she slid the gown over her head, wiggling so the warm (it must have been charmed, it had been heated to the touch when she’d been handed it and it was still just as warm) cloth slid all the way to her knees. It was too short in the length ( she didn’t think it was supposed to hit just the knees) and too large in the shoulders (it kept slipping off of her left shoulder and Narcissa repeatedly pulled it back into place as she stood there for only a moment).
Narcissa raised her wand, quickly whispering ‘scourgify’ to get her clothing back to some sort of semblance of propriety. Seeing them discarded on the stone floor, mudding prints and tears, made her heart ache for their fibrous beings. Another spell at them folded neatly next to the little cot that she would be spending the night in. She bit her lip, still looking unsettled. In reality she just didn’t want to tuck in like any other patient just yet; she was not that weak or ill just yet. She didn’t need anyone thinking that. Grabbing a black ribbon from her bag she braided her hair down the back of her scalp, tying it off in a large, flopping bow. She always, always slept with her hair in the braid; it would not due to ruin good habits for a night in the healer’s infirmary.
She picked at her nails, wiggled her still chilled toes, and had begun to count the tiles on the ceiling to push off the actual moment when she would be tucked into the bed like an ill little patient doll when she heard Pomfrey’s footsteps. Not wanting to anger the woman, she darting into the blankets (which had somehow dried in the past ten or so minutes) and folded her hands in her lap. The nurse pulled the curtains open again, picking up the towels and clothes that had been left from her vicious scrubbing and scourging. She tossed them into a basket at the foot of Narcissa’s bed, pulling an ominous looking bottle from her apron pocket. Narcissa clenched her mouth shut with dread.
Oh she knew exactly what was in that bottle; a thick foul liquid that she’d been subjected to time and time again as a child. It was a basic, nasty brew that would rid her of any of the previously mentioned buggies and beasties that had managed to crawl into her body (she prayed to Merlin that none had). Any governess for an old wizarding home would be smart enough to carry it around. As said, such locations of old magic and old magical artifacts were breeding grounds for just the sort of thing the potion washed away. It took some coaxing, but finally the healer managed to get two large, green, greasy spoonfuls down Narcissa’s throat. She pushed her into a propped up position, tucked her in tightly (charmed, no doubt. Narcissa didn’t even bother attempting to move from the blankets), and gave her a ‘stay put’ look. She pouted.
However, she felt slightly better when she watched the woman go over to Potter’s bed with the same hideous potion bottle. She pushed back his screen, pushing him into a similar semi-seated position and shoving three (ha!) spoonfuls down his still apparently sleeping throat. She made a few more attempts to rouse him, placed a glass of water on his bedside table, and then informed the two that she would be back in an hour or two with dinner.
Narcissa’s stomach grumbled. Of course the woman would be leaving them to get the tasty treats down in the great hall. She could have growled (and the urge did strike her rather strongly) if she didn’t have her impeccable manners. They were not to move. The blonde watched as Pomfrey placed another blanket, folded, on each of their beds before retreating out of infirmary to- assumedly- delight in the feast that neither of them would be getting tonight. They’d probably get some cold, murky, chicken noodle soup with bits floating in it. Narcissa slumped down, turning her attention towards glaring at Potter. No good food. And no friends. That thought made Narcissa’s headache. She hoped someone would think to look for Miss Black here (especially one certain blond boy) in the infirmary. The chances were slim. They’d assume she was in her dorm, sniffling over the early events. Surely at least the part about her hair and Care of Magical Creatures had reached her circle of friends; and with the way gossip spread through the school everyone would know about the incident with Potter by the end of the day.
She’d saved his life and all she got was a stupid bed in a stupid infirmary with a stupid Healer. Well poo.
She lay there for a bit, picking at her nails and returning to counting the ceiling stones with the only noise being Potter’s incredibly annoying breathing. She hummed for a bit, some off tune little piece that would probably be stuck in her head for the longest of times. She scowled, stopped humming, wiggled under the blankets. Finally, she turned to James, glared at him for a bit, and then went back to counting the ceiling. Coming up with a great (alright, not so great; however, it would due under so terribly, boring circumstances) idea, she pulled a book from her bag and began peeling bits of paper from the last chapter- and then flicking them towards Potter. Mild entertainment, but what was one to do?
Notes: I actually don't know if i like this post or not. hmph. Words: 1,883 Muse: Pandora playlists: 'I'll make a man out of you' and 'Cats (original Broadway cast recording)' Peers: James D:
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Post by jamespotter on Apr 25, 2010 19:55:28 GMT 1
After Pomfrey finished with Miss Black, she moved back to James. The boy still in a deep potion induced sleep looked a lot better than he did an hour or so ago. She looked with satisfaction at the color returning to his skin. Filling the basin with warm water and beginning with his head, raising it, she placed a towel beneath it as she washed him clean. Taking extra care to clean the matted mud and blood from his hair by the injury. Washing the gash and cleaning it out was very important to keep down any infections. Taking up her wand she pointed it at the wound and said the silent incantation in her mind. Sealing the wound over just as if a muggle doctor had stitched it shut. Only she did a better job, one couldn't hardly tell there had been a 3-inch gash along his temple.
Washing his face and moving on down to his neck. She shook her head as she saw the four deep scratches that appeared under the mud near the base of his throat. There was more to the story than Miss Black let on. She had treated enough wounds to know that those scratches on his neck was from a fight.
After treating the scratches with a salve, she moved on washing the rest of him. Cleaning every inch and checking for other injuries. She took special care in checking his fingers and toes to make sure there was no signs of frostbite. When he was completely washed down to her satisfaction and standards she slipped a gown on over his head and laid him back down. Charming the blankets again to provide warmth she covered him up. He should sleep for an hour or so. Giving her time to give her two new patients their potions. She actually had to pinch his nose shut so he would open his mouth. An old trick but it worked. She instructed the house elf to gather their clothing and clean them. Of course not knowing that Narcissa had taken that chore into her own hands. Still the elf did as he was told, knowing that healer was very particular how the clothes needed to be cleaned to keep any diseases down. She watched him gather up Potters clothing, then she and the elf left. She would visit the kitchen and select the dinner for her patients then she would join the rest of the Hogwarts staff in the Great Hall for dinner.
A dripping faucet, gnats, and flies have one thing in common. They can be annoying. Disturbing ones sleep, breaking ones concentration, like a spider or bug crawling on you as you sleep, eventually your mind will waken to that fact and arouse you from your sleep. A well aimed paper wad was no different. Not to mention the fact of the tearing noise, the slight ripping sound that seemed to echo in the quiet hospital.
Plunk!
Sleeping on his side facing away from Narcissa the small wad hit his cheek, bouncing off to land within inches of his nose. His eyes blinked open. He was warm and the shivering had ceased. Of course hed was under several layers of charmed blankets, making him toasty warm. Still groggy, he laid still letting things come into focus. His glasses had been removed. He could see the low bedside table, where his wand and glasses laid next to a glass of water. He knew where he was, the Hospital wing, for this wasn't the frist time he has been here. But that wasn't what drew a puzzled look on his face. It was the five or six off white small wads of paper that littered his pillow and bed that did.
Plunk!
Another hit the back of his head, more than likely getting stuck there. Obviously someone was wanting his attention or was trying to annoy him thus wanting his attention. He had a good idea of who it was, fairly sure it wasn't any of his mates. First off he didn't think they would know he was here. But then again he didn't know how long he had been here. Secondly he couldn't picture Peter or Remus idlely ripping paper, wadding it up and tossing it at him. Sirius would, but then again if he was that bored he'd leave and find something more entertaining.
Reaching over, with the covers draping his arm, he picked up his glasses and wand. Making sure the wand was well hidden under his arm and covers. Dropping the wand at his side as he brought up his other hand to meet the glasses. Using both hands to put them on. Then pushing his arms back under the covers, his hand closed over the wand as he turned his body to face her. Laying the wand unseen within reach he brought his hand out from under the covers and flicked a paper wad off his bed and in her general direction. His eyes raising to meet hers. "Haven't you had enough fun today torturing me and trying to kill me today or ..." he pushed himself up in the bed some more getting more comfortable. "is it that you secretly wanted to get me into bed, so this was your grand scheme? Geeze all you had to do was ask." He looked at her and smirked. Of course that was so NOT going to happen. He was just wanting to taunt her to see what he could do to start the pay back.
Word count 933 Comments: hehe
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Post by narcissablack on Apr 26, 2010 18:39:16 GMT 1
The very idea of Narcissa ruining herself with Potter made her stomach threaten to rise and force her to wretch. It was disgusting, almost akin to asking herself to fuck a niffler or dog or muggle or any other animal. Her stomach churned at that thought as well. Narcissa was pure in every single sense of the world, and she intended to remain that way until her wedding night (or, as she’d been told would be more realistic by peers with more influence with men, until her betrothed could not wait another day for her. But, by then, it would be alright. After all, she’d been pure for her husband, if proved a little earlier than anticipated). It was one of those things that separated herself from her peers and friends; she drew the line far earlier for men than them.
Not that she was calling them whores, but well…some of them...
The fact that he’d even suggested that flicking pieces of paper towards his sleeping form indicated that made her slam the book shut and place it back in her bag as quickly as she could manage. She gagged once more at the very idea before sitting up and fixing him with a very firm glare. “That was hardly what I’d wanted, and the fact you can interpret such a thing as to mean I wish to copulate with you is revolting. Can you remove your head from your arse and every woman you see’s arse for five seconds to realize the world does not revolve around….around fucking and rutting,” she seethed, her tongue pressing against the back of her top incisors.
Honestly she hated men like him, who thought all girls were sluts and would jump willy nilly into their beds with them. It was deplorable, disgusting, and uncouth. And it was a trend that seemed to be taking more and more young men by storm. They were oversexed and wanted women like food. Ugh.
Her anger had been partially over her rude comment. She was a lady of fantastic and noble birth, and even he should know not to make such comments to her as if she was an average hooker or whore. He should know to not make such comments to any woman, even whores (though they were probably the only women who it would even be slightly permissible). The rest of her temper had to do with the fact she was now stuck in the dingy little infirmary with him. It was all his fault in the end, really. No matter what she’d done, it had only been in reaction to him! He was the one who’d antagonized a woeful girl; he deserved everything he got- with the acception of his life being saved. He deserved much the opposite of that, being more apt to rot in the bottom the lake like the piece of pig- bloodtraitor he was.
And she was stuck here now, with him; without a single bit of good company or her alliances. It made her sick. She was going to be so very lonely and so very bored. She could read, Narcissa supposed. She could do the class work she had readily available in her bag, but that would break her streak. She hadn’t done homework for Care of Magical Creatures since she’d begun the course. Why break tradition now, after all she’d gone through involving that course today? She couldn’t wait to drop it. It would be the first off of her list; she’d replace it with Divination if she was forced to fill the slot with something new. She did have books, though. Ones she was rather fond of, but ones that would go against her whole purity spiel earlier.
It would not due for Potter to know that Miss Narcissa Black enjoyed a good trashy romance every now and then. Though, in her defense, if she could not partake in that sort of entertainment, didn’t she get to read about it instead? The current one she had tucked away was one of her favorites; a rake of a wizard marrying a wealthy witch to save her from a terrible rumor that had begun because he’d had the nerve to lie about bedding her. In the end they’d discover love, become the toast of the season, and live happily ever after. It made her stomach (and other, unmentionable, parts of her body) warm. She resisted the urge to pull to indulge in front of him.
“And now look what you’ve gone and done, trapping us both in here for an entire lonely night. We’ll probably get look warm soup with the fat and grease already hardening over the top and vegetables too floppy to even think about stomaching.” She said coldly, crossing her arms and slumping into the bed. “You at least get the privilege of your better’s company, but I’m forced to spend my evening and night with the likes of you. I would even prefer my cousin’s company than yours.”
At least she wouldn’t be half as embarrassed if it had been Sirius situated next to her. They had grown up together, after all. And he had been somewhat pleasant as a child to her. They’d been the same age and often been forced together. True there were times when he’d been a right terror, but he hadn’t been constantly terrible until he grew closer to school age. He’d seen her in a dressing gown or night slip before, unlike this near stranger. She was trying to ignore that fact, the blankets tucked up to her armpits.
“So you better thing of some sort of way for this to be pleasant for at least me.”
Notes: Terrible, terrible post. And I made you wait! D: Words: 950 Muse: Pandora playlist: 'Cats (original Broadway cast recording)' Peers: James D:
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Post by jamespotter on Apr 27, 2010 3:57:47 GMT 1
He didn't want anything to do with her either. Besides the fact she was a Black and most of them especially the females were insane and should be locked up in the mental ward of St Mungos, she was the type of person that revolted him. Pureblood maniac that thought of only herself or what she could gain out of a situation. How she can use something to her advantage to improve her status. Vain. Even her parents named her after vanity, narcissi, not the flower as some think. Yes he knew her self-love, self-obsessed, conceited self. He honestly hated her.
That was hardly what I’d wanted, and the fact you can interpret such a thing as to mean I wish to copulate with you is revolting. Can you remove your head from your arse and every woman you see’s arse for five seconds to realize the world does not revolve around….around fucking and rutting,
He saw the unmistakable glare and heard the contempt in her voice. Good he was getting to her. Inwardly he smiled. This is the beginning of better things to come. "I take that as a possible no to a good night kiss and you tucking me in then." He sighed heavily, feigning disappointment. Then suddenly he smirked. This hospital stay must be hell on her. Sleeping on a cot that others have been sleeping on. Wearing a cotton gown instead of silk or whatever she wore. Having to sleep on scratchy cotton linen and not satin sheets. Too bad he couldn't arrange for a roach to crawl up onto her bed or fall into her hair. Though the night is still young, perhaps his wish would come true. He could almost hear her shrieking and coming unhinged. Relishing the thought, too bad it got interrupted.
And now look what you’ve gone and done, trapping us both in here for an entire lonely night. We’ll probably get look warm soup with the fat and grease already hardening over the top and vegetables too floppy to even think about stomaching ... You at least get the privilege of your better’s company, but I’m forced to spend my evening and night with the likes of you. I would even prefer my cousin’s company than yours.
His eyes shot her a look of unbelieving look of astonishment. "I can't believe that in your puny space for a brain that you can twist your unprovoked attack upon me as being my fault. You was the one wallowing in the mud, crying in self pity ... over what? What was it about Narcissa? Did you break a fingernail or was hair number 268 out of place?" He shook his head. "You are unbelievably self centered worried about how everything affects little ole you. I pity whomever your mum has picked out for you to marry for you will NEVER have a real loving marriage." He paused "and as for Sirius ... I can arrange for him to come pay us a visit. I'm sure he'd like to show you his appreciation of what you did to me."
Now that wasn't a bad idea... for Sirius to come and annoy her too. Perhaps he could even get word to him to bring some sort of creepy crawly insects to toss on her.
So you better think of some sort of way for this to be pleasant for at least me.
Grins. "Oh I'm right on top of that ... believe me"
word count: 426 comment: sorry for the shortness.
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Post by Sirius Black! on Apr 27, 2010 4:34:06 GMT 1
Sirius laid on his bed with his hands behind his head, still fully dressed. Everyone else was sleeping at this point, except for him. Although he was curious as to where James was, that wasn't what was on his mind. Sirius had a bad habit of letting his mind overwhelm him, and he spent many sleepless nights within his head. This was one of them. Another boy's light snores broke the silence, as well as Sirius' train of thought. He shook his head and ran his hands over his face. He didn't even want to know what time it was, for he knew it was late, but he still was not tired. Trust him to be up later than everyone else. Due to lack of anything better to do, he got out of bed and walked over to James' trunk. He rummaged to the bottom in order to find the Marauders' Map they were working on. It wasn't completely in working order yet, but it was awfully close. He went back to his own bed and glanced over at Remus, who was fast asleep, excluding the occasional twitch. He wasn't sure, but Sirius assumed that Remus suffered from nightmares on a regular basis. But, to be fair, Sirius was sure he too would have nightmares if he suffered from the same condition.
Sirius sat up with his back against the headboard, pulled out his wand and tapped the piece of parchment and said the temporary password. The majority of Hogwarts began to draw itself on it, other than a few places here and there that none of the Marauders had gotten around to putting on. Most of the dots were in their proper place, although he couldn't find James in any of the usual places he was typically in when he wasn't in for curfew. Sirius lit the tip of his wand and held it closer to the map in case he was missing something. Suddenly, however, a name caught his attention for being where it wasn't supposed to be:
Narcissa Black.
It took him half a second to notice that James' dot was right next to hers, and his immediate thought was a suspicious one, but that was right before he noticed that they were in the Hospital Wing. He frowned, not knowing why James was there. He honestly didn't care why his cousin was there. No one mentioned to Sirius that James was injured, and he assumed that if he was injured terribly badly, he would have been notified, at least by his parents. One thing was for certain though: Sirius knew how much James hated the hospital wing, so without further waiting, he threw a bunch of prank items into his pockets including an assortment of bugs, whipped cream, scissors and feathers. Just as he was about to exit the dormitory, he remembered a certain something that would no doubt aid him in his travels.
He went back into James' trunk quietly, dug to the bottom yet again, and pulled out James' Invisibility Cloak that had been passed down to him. Sirius never got over how amazing he thought the cloak was. He went over to the nearby mirror and spent a solid ten minutes playing with his reflection, causing everything but his head to disappear, and then just his arm visible... and then only a certain private part visible. He had to them dismiss himself before he woke the others with his laughter.
It didn't take him long to get to the Hospital Wing, and due to the excellent map him and his friends were in the process of inventing, he managed to dodge the few obstacles that were wandering the hallways, such as Peeves. He checked the time to know that Madam Pomfrey would be leaving within a few minutes' time to bustle down to the kitchens for fifteen minutes to get a midnight tea. Sirius waited, and sure enough, it didn't take long before the Healer left the room, leaving the door slightly ajar. Sirius slipped through and crouched down. The two were bickering, and he was actually relieved to hear that. He moved forward slowly to make sure not to make any noise, and then moved around to Narcissa's side. He came up behind her to where she wasn't looking, lowered the Cloak for only a brief moment so James could see that he was there, and then did exactly what he'd been wanting to do forever. He took out the bugs and scissors, all while hidden beneath the Cloak, and then positioned himself. Quickly, all at once, he took a bug in one hand, and held the scissors in another. He raised a large chunk of Narcissa's hair without her noticing somehow (probably because she was bickering with James) and then dropped the bug onto her head. The second her head twitched from feeling movement, he snipped, and a rather large chunk of hair fell.
Quickly, Sirius slid out from beneath the Cloak and pocketed it without Narcissa seeing it, for he didn't want to give away James' secret. He threw the feathers at James, and held the whipped cream ready in hand, the same mischevious grin on his face that he always liked to keep.
"Hey James, you look smashing," he commented, trying not to laugh at the situation he put the three of them in. Word count: [/b] 920 [/right][/i][/size]
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Post by narcissablack on May 1, 2010 1:06:53 GMT 1
“I am not the most self centered woman in the world!” She snapped, her offended tone hissed from between her teeth. She wasn’t, honestly. There was a good deal to being perfect that relied on worrying about other’s around herself- and she was digging her fingernails into perfection the best way she could. She worried about her sister, Bella, and her cousin Reggie. She worried about her father. She worried quite a bit about Lucius Malfoy (though, that wasn’t the best example of her selflessness for she often thought a good deal about what he would think of her ). “Just because I don’t care about you does not be I do not care about others.” She added defensively.
She was hurt, inexplicably by his comment towards her future happiness. For his information, she wasn’t engaged to a man picked by her parents (yet) and was quite determined to find happiness and her own husband. True, he’d be a good breeding and approved by her parents, but he would be her loving and tender husband. She stuttered, choking on her worlds as she flushed bright pink and her eyes went glassy.
“For your information, Potter, I was attacked by a swarm of violent chizpurfles during class. And I will be happy, you mark my words. My husband and I are you going to be happy, healthy, and successful in ways you can only dream of.” She snarled, her fingers gripping into the sheets.
“What to you mean by ‘on top of it’?”
Narcissa hadn’t expected any sort of positive reply to her snarky request, much less one with such a flicker of glee in his eyes. She’d been prepared for any sort of ‘shove it, princess’ or even male innuendos about what she could do to keep them entertained. The one that did slip from his mouth her eyebrows knit with confusion, her mouth slightly parted as she tilted her head just slightly. A feeling of unease filled her stomach. She’d grown up with Regulus, Sirius, and Bellatrix; she knew just when someone had something (usually dangerous for her) up their sleeves. She was getting the dinstinct feeling from the raven-haired boy across from her that that was exactly what was happening in front of her.
She didn’t think it would he happening behind her.
Narcissa didn’t feel the bug at first, or at least she didn’t feel it enough to register the crawling movement on her scalp as something to be alarmed about. It could have been a draft or something of that nature. It wasn’t until the little creature dancing down her forehead and fell down the gape of fabric that coated her chest that she realized a little cockroach was sharing her hospital gown with her.
She did not scream, she did not throw a tantrum. She wasn’t even aware of the hair being cut from her head or of her cousin dancing into her field of vision. She was solely focused on the multi-legged pest in the crook of her bra. She bit her lip, the skin turning pale, pale white before cracking and a small dribble of blood slip over her mouth. Her fingers dug into the sheets, threatening to tear the fabric. A single, high pitched whine past her lips before tears started to roll down her cheeks.
Narcissa’s breathing went shallow, even as the pace increased. Her blood was roaring in her ears. Her heart was racing, her eyes pressing close for long moments as tears poured out from behind her lips. She was having a veritable panic attack over the little creature, feeling it crawl up her shoulder and into her better line of vision.
She couldn’t see anything for a few moments. She couldn’t breathe, and she was very sure that her heart had also stopped working. In a burst of color, another cry was rendered from her throat and she used the barest flick of her nails to toss the bug to the ground before bending over the site of the cot and vomiting onto the ground (and unknowingly, onto James’ things and Sirius’ feet).
Her heart, lungs, and blood still racing, she remained bent over making sure the last of the vomit had forced itself from her body. Tears continued to roll down her cheeks, starting to sob in more earnest. Screw propriety. Screw not showing emotions. And screw them.
Notes: Sorry this took forever! Poor, poor Cissa. Words: 731 Muse: Cissa's playlist Peers: James, Sirius, and one large cockroach
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Post by jamespotter on May 2, 2010 2:12:22 GMT 1
His eyes radiated his amusement of her proclamation that she wasn't the most self-centered person in the world. Wasn't the most? He chuckled. Bloody hell she just agreed with him! Just cause she wasn't the most didn't mean she wasn't. Hell he was sure she was in the top five. Behind her mother, aunt and Bella of course. Her vigorously denying it must mean he had hit a nerve of truth, a sore spot with her that deep down she knew as fact, as a truth, that she was indeed vain, thinking the world revolved around her. Of course her capping it all off by insinuating that she actually cared about some people was icing on the cake. He laughed, quite fascinated how her petty mind worked. Oh he was sure she cared about what they thought of her, or their bloodlines and wealth, but deep down actually having friends you care about he so did not see it when it came to her.
Did she had friends like he did? Like Sirius, Remus and Peter to name the top three though there are others. Friends that she could count on to come to her aid, to be there through hard times and good, thick and thin. Friends that would stand beside her, like his stood by him. He doubted it. He couldn't picture her giving the shirt off her back to help someone that she 'says' she cares about or going out of her way. He would die for his friends, would she?
He blinked back from his thoughts as she jumped from one defense to another without taking a breath. Telling him about the swarm of Chizpurfles to being happy and 'successful' with a husband. Successful, yet another word from narcissistic Narcissa. A code word that fits right in with the 'look at me I'm so much better than you' attitude. Yet proving once again his point.
What to you mean by ‘on top of it’?
Chuckling, he looked down, shaking his head. Running his hand through his raven unruly hair he looked back up at her. Ready to call her on her proclamination. Ready to continue with the banter now that he had the ammo from her own lips to twist. Only to his amazement he was not just seeing her but Sirius. Well not him entirely, his head, and only for an instant. For a second he thought, did I actually contact Sirius in some way? For he could see EVERYTHING Sirius was doing, down to the cockroach dropping into her oh so perfect hair. And wasn't that the same thought he had a few minutes ago? Dam they do think quite alike it's sometimes freaky!
He couldn't help but watch the critter walk to it's freedom, across her head, to the edge of her hairline where it .... fell. Taking a tumble down her face and ending up in her cleavage. It was so perfect. He laughed a howling laugh at the look on her face. It was priceless. Too bad old Skeetbag wasn't there to take a everlasting picture. He could see the tears flow and her body do an involuntary shudder as the roach crawled upon her shoulder before she sent it to the floor.
During all of that Sirius appeared at his bedside saying something about how he looked. Though right now he was more amused at what Narcissa looked like. About that time she puked. Throwing up on the clean clothes that the house elf had returned. Well isn't that just peachy. He looked down at the smelly mess, seeing it had gotten on Sirius too. He rolled his eyes. "Merlin Narcissa it was just a bug not Malfoy." He produced his wand from under the covers, with a flick he raised the emesis basin that was on the table next to her and dropped it into her lap. "I suggest you use that before Pomfrey gets mad and decides you are a sicker more than usual."
Then he spied her folded clothing he flicked his wand and raised her clothes, levitating them across the room to Sirius' feet where he used them to clean his mate's feet then dropped them fully into the sick on his clothes. Knowing full well that Sirius would get him clean clothes while Narcissa had no one to bring her any.
Looking back at Sirius ... "Yeah? you say that now.... should have seen me hours ago, when Narcissa tried to kill me." he said matter of factly looking directly at her.
word count 750
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