What It Is To Burn,

[Narcissa Black]

{She burns. Today is on fire.}

It wasn't her best day, but honestly, it was so much better than what life had proved to be recently. She was in a good mood, at least, and Narcissa had learned to appreciate good moods after a whole season of frowning over small nothings. So the content expression on her face was not due to Lucius' invitation to the Yule Ball, contrary to her eldest sister's belief. Narcissa was relaxed, and she'd be cursed before she let Bellatrix ruin her mood with such an inconsequential thing as teasing remarks. That is, if Bellatrix could ever be described as teasing. She almost smiled as she thought of the fear many students at Hogwarts felt for her sister. It was understandable, yes, but only to a certain degree. Narcissa was sure getting over it.

Or perhaps, maybe not, but today she was feeling lenient enough to allow herself to believe it. Her own personal fantasy. After all, not many people could get over Bellatrix. And she most certainly hadn't sprouted enough stupidity overnight to be able to do it. But she refused to think about that too. Today was all about being able to...well, let go. Perhaps she hadn't done it enough times to be familiriazed with the concept, but Narcissa was open to give it a try. Potions was a bore, Hogwarts' hallways were getting monotonous with their routinely squeals as more and more girls got invited to that blasted atrophy, and the Slytherin commons was empty. What wasn't empty lately? A delicate sneer covered Narcissa's lips as she crossed a group of huddled girls, talking in excited whispers. So childish. And yet, they couldn't be any younger than her, with their school robes in pristine recollection, their tone of voices. In fact, Narcissa could have sworn them to be older.

But for them to be acting like that? It left little to desire. Immature.

And she refused to hear that inner voice, that had almost been repressed into oblivion, that maybe, just maybe, it was she who was wrong. She who wasn't living life correctly. She who was all messed up.

Because one, her subconscious did most definitely not use words such as "messed up", and two, Narcissa Black couldn't be wrong. Not on this. Not when class and life were in balance. How dare it simply mention that? As if she could be offended at herself. If it were possible, Narcissa would be in a huff. But since she was pretending that such inner voice didn't exist, there was no reason for her to feel rightfult indignation. Because there wasn't anything to feel offended over. Narcissa shook her head at herself, causing for her silver tresses to fall over her shoulders with the movement. It was a cold day, and no matter how much practical and right it was to wear your hair pinned up, she was cold. And her platinum hair was serving as coverage for her defenseless face at the moment. Even with her black cloak and shiny, expensive boots (thank you, Mother dearest, she had penned), she was shivering. Her normally pale cheeks were flushed red with the biting cold, and it was almost suicidal for her to be venturing out of the castle with the temperatures so. No, she didn' t have a deathwish just yet. But she would soon, if she'd have to stand all that...mindless chatter for another day. It had managed to even permeate the dungeons. The dungeons, for Zeus' sake! Not even her favorite place in the castle (drab as it was) was safe anymore.

That was when she had given up completely on the thought of a peaceful day and had practically sent everything to Hades for a moment. She wanted to think, to just do something different.

Pulling up the hood of her cloak, Narcissa's lips twisted into a smile as her boots finally came into contact with the pristine snow, the crunching echoing loudly in her ears. Her destination? The Lake. Her purpose? Unknown. But as of now, she officially didn't give a toss.

When she arrived there, she observed with a pleased smile that the place was deserted. No one was mental enough to venture forth in a weather like this, and she found that it suited her just fine. Drying up a patch of snow into green, dry grass, Narcissa took a seat underneath her favorite tree (or the one she disliked the least, if you prefer) and sighed deeply, enjoying the sharp bite of the ice-cold air as it traveled through her nose. Yule was fast approaching, and she was in trouble. Not a single gift had been bought, and contrary to popular belief, the Black family was quite lavish in their traditions. Everything everyone else did, they did it twice as completely as anyone. So gifts were a must. And not just any concoction you could prepare. It had to be only the best. What did they say? Oh, yes. The best for the best. Egotism could only take you so far, though, and the truth was, Narcissa was drawing blanks. She didn't worry so much about her family, since she already had ticked off what was destined for each member, but her Hogwarts friends? That was another thing altogether. And if she was briefly honest, it was Lucius' gift what was giving her more trouble. It had been a while since they had managed to function correctly as friends, and another while since they'd even crossed words. Yes, his invitation to Yule was for granted, but Narcissa was wondering if it was more out of compromise than an actual desire to take her. After all, they'd been pushed together for so long, it was getting kind of dull. Not him, of course, but the idea as a concept.

Oh, what was she saying.

[Reserved for Edward]

[edwardjameson]

He was at the end of his rope. The last straw had been thrown on, broken the metaphorical back of his metaphorical camel, and that was it. If he had to hear one more hushed giggle, one more shrill scream of annoying happiness, one more sniffle or whimper from a girl who had just 'had her heart broken' by a boy she had just spoken to for the first time, Edward would snap. It was impossible to find any sort of quiet, even in the seclusion of the dormitories. He needed his quiet time and it swiftly became clear that he would have to leave the relative warmth that the castle walls provided in order to find it. A walk would do him well anyway; despite that it was many sunrises behind him now, his head was still reeling a little from the powerful rejection he had received from Narcissa in response to his own Yule Ball invitation.

So, after retrieving them from the floor, the Gryffindor lad pulled his boots while scanning the immediate area for something warm to wear. Kicking his trunk open, Edward grabbed a handful of clothes and picked out a dark green sweater. He then shoved a second sweater and a winter cloak into his book bag, just in case they were needed. In fact, he was certain they would be; he knew there was no way a single sweater would be able to ward off the same air that caused the tears of the clouds to turn to snow. Shouldering his pack, Edward made his way out, steeling himself for the onslaught of shrieks and giggles.

As his feet made their first prints on the blanket of snow outside the castle, Edward turned his mind to his own date. Mafalda...she was a pretty one. Two years older no less, that had to seem impressive. They didn't get along all that well, though. Hopefully they wouldn't be a huge scene. The whole idea sounded a lot more stressful than it did fun, and the fact that Mafalda was maybe his third choice didn't help at all. Ravenna was his second choice, but for obvious reasons he couldn't go with her. Not that he knew she would have said yes...didn't matter. She was going with Ludovic.

Then there was Narcissa. Definitely his first choice, and by far the least likely. The whole pursuit was rather pointless in the end, but he found himself incapable of resisting the chase. It wasn't that he liked girls who were playing hard to get (playing may not have been the right word in Narcissa's case), but the frigid bitch thing was undeniably attractive. So was the rest of her.

A quick glance around revealed that even those crazy few who chose to brave the weather avoided the lake, so Edward made it his destination. He made his way across the snow laden ground, smiling at the scenery. The view from the tower was beautiful, yet being on the ground and being a part of the view was breathtaking; then again, maybe that was the wind. He dropped his back near the edge of the lake and took his place next to it. Narcissa's presence went unnoticed, her pale figure lost in the white and gray atmosphere that the world had become.

[Narcissa Black]

{The sky is bleeding above me}

It was easy to get lost in your thoughts when there was a silence so absolute as the one Narcissa was experimenting at the moment. Not that there was much to think about in the first place, because lately, her thoughts were too tiresome to bother, but still, Narcissa plowed on. With her tendency to over-analyze every single aspect to every single corner, most of her time could be whiled away by herself. When she allowed such things, that is. And she had allowed herself just this break, to savor it, when it was interrupted by the hustle of someone approaching.

Narcissa’s gray eyes were closed, but as she heard the incredibly loud (or so it seemed) approaching steps, she opened them with a roll, trying her best to compose her face into an expression of disdain. Right now, one of Trix’s techniques would come in handy. Intimidate the hell out of that someone to be left alone once again. Which had been the main purpose of her daring to go outside. But apparently, not all people were aware of what solitude meant. She didn’t care that said person had no way of knowing she sought some alone time, she only cared that he or she had intruded.

So, when her glare finally settled on the person in motion, it narrowed minimally as she recognized the figure to no other than Edward Jameson.

Perfect, just what she needed at the moment. That persistent Gryffindor who didn’t manage to get through his head that he was not going to ace her out in Potions. Of course she choce to ignore the fact that he had also invited her to Yule. Just a minor glitch, in her judgement, easily ignored and forgiven. Not that he had to know that. Narcissa wouldn’t take the bother to inform him. She tensed her shoulders, ready to be spotted and forget all about her precious solitary moments, but when after several moments nothing happened, no voice of greeting called out, she opened them.

Only to see him sitting just a few yards away, utterly oblivious.

Or was he pretending to be oblivious?

She rolled her eyes. Now she was thinking like that airhead, McKinnon. Nobody pretended such things. They knew better. Or they should know better around her. She wasn’t one to play those silly games of let’s flirt in this degrading way, where I pretend I don’t see you so you can make the advances.

He definitely knew better.

So, she waited for a few moments more, her fingers drumming noiselessly against her cloak covered thigh, waiting for just something to happen. One would think that with her silence restored, she’d be able to go back to mulling things over, but the fact that there was someone else breathing her same air in her same space, stood. How perfectly and utterly childish of her, but she didn’t care, nor did she particularly wish to dwell on her character flaws.

Instead, she stared at Jameson.

Hard.

Not something that was characteristic of her, but she wanted to be left alone! It didn’t matter that he was minding his own business, nor did it matter that he was as silent as could be. She needed privacy, for Merlin’s beard! And he was utterly ruining it. Her content mood had all but evaporated, and she was ready to throw a Bat-Bogey Hex in his direction if he didn’t react soon.

Nobody was so oblivious.

So, Narcissa cleared her throat.

[edwardjameson]

Well, it was cold. Perhaps the snow should have been an indication of that. Apparently his powers of observation were still with him, sharp as always. So he turned them on the scenery, watching the frozen mass of water, imagining what was going on beneath the surface. Not just the merfolk and the squid and all those creepy things with teeth, but the rest of the water. Was it still doing its thing, swishing about, waiting to shed the ice like a layer of skin and start fresh? Beneath every sheet of ice there was a whole second world, hardly recognizable from the outer surface.

There was a creepy feeling crawling up his spine that tainted the serenity of the view. It felt as though something was being pushed into his neck from the side, a pair of vicious fangs hungry to empty his veins of the precious life contained within. He turned around, looking at the nearly empty grounds curiously. There wasn't a thing in sight, so he turned back to the lake, lacking the ease that he previously had. He couldn't shake that feeling now, and he nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard the rough sound of somebody clearing their throat.

There she was. Narcissa Black. In the flesh.

She was like a part of the environment, her beautiful skin sucking all the beauty from the snow around her and adding it to her own. She was a vision, her ruby red lips a stamp of vitality in the middle of a pale dream. The golden locks atop her head, no longer bound together in a bun like usual, cascaded down her shoulders like a rebellious waterfall in the midst of a frozen wasteland. Despite his fascination with the beauty before him, Edward was quite capable of keeping himself from staring.

"Hello Narcissa, looking ravishing as usual. Am I bothering you?" he said casually, one hand reaching out to clutch his bag. He had absolutely no intention of leaving, of course. It wasn't his intention to bother the girl, but any interaction with her was worth having. Even being horribly mistreated by her was...well, a treat. Absently, as he waited for her answer, he pondered if she treated everybody as coldly as she treated him. He was a Gryffindor, a serious threat to her potions supremacy, and a boy, so he took an educated guess that there were underlying factors in her decision to regard him so severely.

Not that it really mattered; persistence was one of Edward's strong points.

[Narcissa Black]

{And I am blistered}

"Hello Narcissa, looking ravishing as usual. Am I bothering you?"

Seriously.

Did he think he could say that to anyone and actually get away with it? It was too…well, too improbable, if she were being particularly honest. And it sounded all wrong when it was aimed at her. Mainly, because she refused to accept any kind of compliments from anyone, and secondly, because it was Edward Jameson! She didn’t go parading around in front of him so he could shower her in attention. As a matter of fact, he had been the one to interrupt her thinking time! So why was she thinking all of this? She had to get rid of him. Fast. Otherwise, her mood was potentially ruined, and that was something she refused to let happen. It was her first semi-good day in months and for him to stalk in with his silence-ness was not good. Not good at all.

“Yes, you are.” Oh, wasn’t she a lame little witch? All those years being particularly cold to people and this was all she could manage. But what else could she say? It was the truth, and perhaps taking a detour into honesty would serve her purpose just once. Narcissa wasn’t the kind to believe in the farse many people called honesty. She believed in being direct and if you could manage it on the way, biting. Honesty was for the weak and wounded. Or she left it for them. That didn’t make her a liar, necessarily. Oh, she told the truth frequently enough. A daily ritual, if you might, but for her to call it honesty? There was no way Narcissa Black could handle honesty. Hearing her say it out loud and admitting it was something that was not going to happen any time in the near future.

“Edward,” she purred sweetly. “There’s this thing called privacy. I’m sure you’re familiar with the concept,” she continued, her eyes were wide with pretend innocence. There was a pause as her face took a slight transformation. “And you’re invading mine,” she finished, her tone abruptly changing from its mock sweetness to the reality of it all. No, she didn’t hate Jameson. Narcissa didn’t care for him one way or another. He simply was…there. And his constant presence in her life was quite irking. Especially when he was happening to disturb one of the few occasions she was pleasant. To her, it didn’t matter if it sounded petty or childish. After all, the school grounds were indeed open to all, no restrictions. She had no right to make someone leave. If she could manage it. It was obvious in the set of his expression that Edward Jameson (that annoying Gryffindor), had no intentions of leaving. He had set camp there indefinitely.

A sudden breeze made her pull her cloak tighter against her body; the hood had fallen back, letting her platinum strands free to move as they pleased with the promptings of the weather. But making no progress whatsoever, Narcissa saw it fit to stop talking at the moment and fall back into silence. Not the one that had previously existed, as it now was full of tension and discomfort as one was so readily aware of the other. There was something about Jameson that made Narcissa fill ill at ease, not as comfortable in her own skin as she usually was. Of course, that was never displayed openly, but the fact that it was there was enough for her. She didn’t have a problem with anyone else. Nobody made her doubt herself or anything of the sort. For them to be able to cause a reaction over her meant they had some kind of power, so never, in her fifteen years of life, had Narcissa allowed to let that happen. But now, now it wasn’t out of her volition that she was currently under that state. She still had the advantage of Edward not knowing a single thing, and if things went her way, he would never find out. Schooling her features into an impassable expression, Narcissa turned to look at Jameson again out of the corner of her eye.

[edwardjameson]

"Yes, you are."

Well, not quite as good as a hello, but Edward was in no position to pick and choose. He'd gotten much worse before, and was likely to receive much worse in coming days. An acknowledgment of bothering was better than, say...a notification of hate. He knew she didn't hate him, how could she? If she did hate him, he'd be in a pretty bad place about now. Having the disfavor of anyone from the noble house of Black was bound to have adverse effects on pretty much every part of his life. The comment was unlike Narcissa, though. Where was the...wit? Had the cold blunted her painfully clever mind?

She seemed to soften up, which surprised him. He wasn't at all surprised, however, when it melted away. "Edward." His name sounded almost melodic coming from her. "There's this thing called privacy. I'm sure you're familiar with the concept." Here it came. "And you're invading mine." Better, at least. It wasn't a straight 'go away,' which was good. So, face fitted with a smile, Edward turned to face her. His face took on a similar kind of innocence as Narcissa had used; it wasn't his intention to be insincere, she deserved sincerity, but pretending he gave a damn whether or not he invaded her privacy just wasn't right. Truth be told, he wanted to invade her privacy because it meant he got to be around her. Alone. The whole run-in with her was truly a delight for him, so Narcissa Black (that frigid Slytherin), would have to deal with him for awhile.

"I am very familiar with it, lass. In fact, it was only a moment ago I was enjoying it. Was I making too much noise? I can be quieter if you want, but this is just about the only place that's not swarming with people," he said, smile fading a little. "So deal, okay?" A little bit of the frustration he had been suffering from because of her harsh denial came out in his words, but he ensured his tone didn't give anything away. Thus far he had kept it inside very well, and he was determined that Narcissa would be the very last person to know how much it hurt. It didn't matter if he was a little harsh with her, she was definitely not the kind of girl that liked the nice guy routine. When the breeze blew through, his look became a little bit more of a stare.

With the wind sweeping through her hair, Narcissa was even more of a vision, and he took in as much as he could. This time it was a little bit more obvious that he was staring; he hated himself for the timing. Now wasn't a time to show weakness, not when he had somewhat of an upper hand on the girl. She seemed to have held back on the verbal abuse; either that, or she couldn't think of anything vile to say to him. No matter which of the two it was, it was a good sign for Edward. That meant he had something on her...what it was, he couldn't even begin to imagine. Her words may have given hints, but her expression remained as steely as ever.

[Narcissa Black]

{I walk these lines of blasphemy every day}

Had he just called her lass?

Narcissa had half a mind to whip out her wand, but refrained from doing so by closing her eyes and breathing in deeply. What was that about counting backwards? Utter shite, if she said so herself. So she settled in for staring at him coldly, crossing her arms in front of her, her right eyebrow automatically arching in that expression many liked to call defying. But defying was never an adjective Narcissa would use to describe herself. To defy meant you had someone or something that was strong enough to stand up to you. And that wasn’t happening. She wasn’t going to allow it. So, her cold stare turned into a full-fledged glare, her clear gray eyes darkening to slate as her mouth twisted slightly. “It’s not the noise that you make what disturbs me, Jameson,” Narcissa began, “As much as your rotten presence,” she retorted pettily. What was with her and her uncharacteristic act of childishness? Was acting older than her years finally catching up to her, causing her to take a leap two years before, when she had been nothing more than a petulant child?

Brushing some stray strands of hair away from her brow, Narcissa let her index finger pause on her chin, a thinking stance immediately presenting itself. She had to think things thoroughly. It was obvious Jameson was just not ready to give anything up. It was also obvious he was revelling on something. What? She didn’t particularly care at the moment. She’d have to dissect that little piece of information later on. What she wanted now was to come up with some kind of technique that would drive him away. So intent was she on her thoughts, that at first, she missed the obvious. But when it dawned on her, Narcissa’s sneer turned into a semi-triumphant smirk. Snapping her fingers in front of Edward’s face, she took a step closer to the boy. For a boy he was indeed. He was in her year, wasn’t he? Fifteen years old. There were still so many things for him to learn. It was somehow narcissistic of her to believe herself superior when she was exactly the same age as him, but in many ways, she was. Narcissa wasn’t fifteen years old. Not mentally or in abilities. She didn’t say so herself. Oh, no. It wouldn’t count for anything if she praised herself. First, she made sure she had backup before going around, reminding herself it was true. Those words had to come at least from one other person’s mouth before Narcissa acknowledged it as true. Preferably one of her own family. If not possible, then her own House. Was it wrong for her to value those opinions highly?

The others? They simply didn’t matter. They would forever be corroded with their humanistic feelings for her and what belonged to her. For Narcissa was no stranger to jealousy and rancor. She’d seen the consequences those emotions could bring, and had made her all the more resolute in being able to control her inner demons. For human she still was. And would forever be. The wish of immortality was something that wasn’t granted as easily as it had been in the centuries of old. And of course she wasn’t as self-centered so to believe that it was a possibility for her. Surprisingly though, she didn’t crave it. Impossibly dull and inconsequent, it would prove to be so. And she didn’t have to see it. She knew it. Felt it in her very core. And if there was something Narcissa believed in, was herself. Nothing nor anybody was going to stop her, in her way of getting things done just so. So, re-crossing her arms, staring at Jameson, an idea slithered to the back of her mind. Something so brilliant as it was equally malicious. Something that made her smile in pure satisfaction, pleasure in her own knowledge. It was so easy, if you thought about it. But first things first.

Sighing, Narcissa shrugged, completely uncharacteristic of her. “Fine,” she granted easily. “So I’ll deal.”

Intuition magic, feminine sixth sense if you will, but Narcissa knew that now that Edward was aware of her presence, he wouldn’t be able to focus for long. It wasn’t a guess as much as it was a certainty, and she planned to use that to her full advantage. She would never decipher why in Hades Edward had this crazy notion about him having some kind of attraction for her, but she would settle that soon enough. It was time to take the kid out of his delusions and give him a severe dose of reality. Fast.

[edwardjameson]

Again with the sad little jab at his confidence. Was her mind taking a day off today? Had the cold frozen her fiery wit and doomed her to the temporary fate of grade school comebacks? It was a sad sight to see a snake's slyness stripped. It was even sadder that this thought popped into his head so beautifully alliterated. Regardless! There were more important things at hand. Narcissa was quiet now, but seemed to be thinking actively. He almost jumped back when she snapped her fingers in his face. As she stepped closer, he once more had to put effort into not stepping back. Beautiful as she was, she was equally intimidating. Still, no words passed her lips and he fixed her with a look that was a splice of confusion and curiousity. Sometimes Edward had a lot of difficulty remembering that Narcissa was the same age as him. Maturity wasn't a factor, nor was looks...it was demeanor. She carried herself like she was so much better than everyone so that everyone couldn't help but feel inferior. She made Edward want to be inferior; a god could not worship a god, and the right to worship one such as her meant so much more than equality ever could. That's how he felt about her.

You know, in a nutshell.

Her stare once more on him, he could feel that mental pressure on him once again. As she crossed her arms, he was feeling as though someone was pushing his eyes back into their sockets. This made the smile that crossed her lips positively eerie. It was a huge relief when it faded away as she sighed, her breath a puff of smoke in the chilly air. The relief was short-lived, because what she said next confirmed that something was going on.

"Fine. So I'll deal."

No. No. Narcissa Black did not give up that easily. It was downright unsettling to hear her with such a defeatist attitude, so there must have been something evil brewing in that devious little head of her's. Unsure of what to make of it all, Edward offered her a cocky smile and nodded. "Well, glad that's settled," he said, trying to sound convincing. He didn't feel convincing, not in the least. Unlike Narcissa, Edward had a strong habit of giving a damn what people thought about him. Of course, it actually kind of mattered what people thought of him, he wasn't the same kind of person as Narcissa. She could go through life being hated by every person around her, every single organism crawling about her feet, doing her bidding, praising her for everything she was and wasn't, all the while despising her and loving her with every fiber of their being.

He tried to turn back to face the lake, look away from her face and forget about her for a little while. But he couldn't. It just wasn't in him. She was close now, closer than she had ever been to him save the occasional brush in the corridor. Edward had to concentrate on breathing; Narcissa had been far more right than she could have imagined. His upper hand was long since gone. There was no problem focusing on anything because he couldn't even attempt to focus on anything but her.

Trapped.

[Narcissa Black]

{And still,
Like a bad star, I’m falling faster down to earth}

It was going to work. Narcissa could feel it. Before he knew it, he’d be trudging away from The Lake and into the castle, defeated at last. She had to grant him that he was perseverant, if not anything else, really. But him and those notions he had about—well, his notions in general, they had to go. Leave for a definite amount of time. Which so happened to be forever. She wasn’t being harsh. She was just trying to do the boy a favor. By driving him away, she was saving him a lot of wasted efforts and supposedly “hurt feelings”; or something along those lines. She could never fathom how they functioned. And under the classification of “they” was fitted the entirety of the Hogwarts’ student population. They were so different, it perplexed Narcissa. They often categorized her as the strange and unreliable one, but how could they consider themselves trust-worthy when they had all these volatile emotions running unbidden inside them? She couldn’t grasp the concept. It wasn’t beyond her, it was beneath her.

“Well, glad that's settled.”

The tone of his voice made her want to smirk; but instead, she just nodded mutely, her gray eyes giving away nothing as she looked away. Now, the difficult part was coming up. It was the trickiest part, you see. Convince him to leave without actually saying those words out loud, make him believe it had been his idea in the first place. She fell back into this scheming silence, her eyes demurely straying to the Lake, hands folded neatly in her lap as she counted in her head. It wouldn’t take long. She was half-expecting it. So when his breathing lost its steady tempo, she smirked. It wasn’t obvious, the failing of taking a breath in half a beat, but Narcissa had been tuned for it, tuned for any kind of sign that would show how much she affected him, and that was it. Triumphantly, but hiding it well, she spoke up. “You know Jameson,” she sneered the word, but she had gotten imperceptibly closer, her melodic voice could almost resound in the absolute silence that enveloped them. “There are times when I just feel the need to…” she paused for a slight effect. “Get away. Don’t you?” And she tilted her head just so, enough to show that she was very much interested, but not enough to think her eager. Oh, it was something practiced, something perfected. She sighed, and laughed maliciously at herself. “Forget the whole mention. I doubt someone like you would even manage to conceive such a thought.”

She couldn’t be overly friendly all of a sudden. As stupid as she liked to consider all Gryffindors to be (wasn’t her cousin one fine example), she knew for a fact, that Jameson wasn’t. An act of kindness or affability was all it took to make him suspicious…but most important of all, cautious. Narcissa had to thread carefully here. This is where it could all tumbling down. Incredible, really, the measures she could go to just to get some peace. Wouldn’t it be easier to just stand up and leave? For certain the Forbidden Forest would be a much secure place to be at the moment than with Jameson. But she ignored that little voice inside her head that whispered that maybe, just maybe, she was enjoying this dare. That it had been such a long time ago that she had actually indulged in any kind of sparring, that this little challenge was making her eyes sparkle with repressed excitement.

Oh no, she was just doing this because she had been here first. And really, Slytherins didn’t give up that easily. Not when it came to their territory.

And foolishly, Narcissa had marked this spot beside the Lake, as hers. What was she doing? Defending what was hers, naturally.

[edwardjameson]

Edward had crossed wits with the best. Though he often seemed like a brute, the Gryffindor had enough intuition and wisdom to stand up to the sharpest minds in the student body. He could read people, usually figure out what they wanted or what their motivations were. Narcissa was such a different case, though. Her motivations were impossible to read because she wasn't afraid to go all out to achieve some minuscule objective. It was as if she enjoyed the mission more than the spoils, valuing the pride of demolishing another foe over all else. In reality, somebody like that only wanted one thing. Desensitized to winning, tired of toppling half-wits like dominoes, sick of the inanity of it all...

What Narcissa really wanted was a challenge.

Unfortunately, that damnable girl used one trait that so many didn't seem to realize they had at their disposal. Narcissa was gorgeous, knew it, and used it. Worst of all, that happened to be Edward's biggest weakness. He knew if he was going to be able to figure out what was cooking in the snake's head then he'd have to overcome it. In his state, his chances of posing a challenge to her were pretty slim. As she turned away, he continued to watch her face, first focusing on her eyes. He took them in appreciatively, then began to set his sights lower. Her flawless cheeks, beautiful lips, long, slender neck, and then...Edward's breath got caught in his throat. His eyes snapped back up to her face when she finally broke the uncomfortable silence.

"You know Jameson..." Oh, he loved it when she called him that; the sneer didn't even bother him, so long as her lovely voice rang in his ears. "There are times when I feel the need to..." The pause was a killer. There were so many nice things that could follow that up. "Get away. Don't you?" Okay, slightly disappointing, but at the same time mildly flirtatious. Not bad. He hardly even noticed the way she tilted her head, an ignorance that was a tribute to how perfectly she had utilized it. She sighed another puff of smoke, followed by what sounded to Edward like a hollow laugh...they all seemed to sound that way, like Narcissa was pretending a joke she had just heard was funny. It was like a wake up call. "Forget the whole mention. I doubt someone like you would even manage to conceive such a thought." The empty laugh rang in his ears. It was neither friendliness nor harshness that gave her away.

Edward smiled.

Amazing how picking up on such a slight detail was all it took to shake him out of beauty-induced idiocy. He understood deception in its many forms, just as he valued and respected truth, both good and bad. But the way she laughed betrayed something that maybe even she didn't understand, maybe she never would. Maybe she didn't want to.

"Forget the mention? I don't think so, I happen to know exactly what you mean, lass. The castle's just too crowded sometimes, and there's nothing better than to get away and..." he breathed in and looked thoughtful, as though trying to remember what words he wanted to use, "spend some quality time." His smile faded to more of a playful grin, and with a wink he moved himself to sit right next to Narcissa.

[Narcissa Black]

{She's the only one who knows what it is to burn}

No.

No!

It was all Narcissa’s mind was conjuring as she heard, felt and saw he was coming over to seat next to her.

Next to her.

Who had allowed that? Certainly not her. Perhaps his poor, deluded mind had taken a turn for the worse and convinced himself that indeed, she enjoyed his company? This was Narcissa’s normal reaction. Her mental reaction. The one that, by no means, did she give any outward sign of. She didn’t know how to react to this unexpected burst of confidence from Jameson, so she pretended she hadn’t noticed at all. She looked away, her gray eyes assessing the frozen surface of the Lake. True, winter had never looked as promising as it did now, with all the frozen spectacles and this deliciously moody aura, the one who seemed to whisper in your ear the secrets of things yet to happen. The one Narcissa relished in whenever there was a pause in her self-imposed (if unaware) frenetic pace. She closed her eyes for a second when she felt him settle in, and forced herself to open them again. She was placing herself in an extremely uncomfortable situation, one that she wouldn’t have found herself in even if a thousand years came to pass and she was an abandoned widow with only charity as her own proclamation of success. Blankly shutting up her mind to the thought, she turned to face him, her jaw set and her eyes almost glaring.

“Merlin help me,” she breathed, her lashes coming down lower for a fraction of an inch as she paused, her lips clearly delineating every word that spilled from her tongue as she tried to keep it in just the right side of menace. “If you call me ‘lass’ one more time Jameson, you’ll find yourself looking out the Lake instead of looking in.” To a casual observer, she was just leaning in a bit too close for comfort, but not close enough to be denominated as intimacy, but for her…for her it was everything it wasn’t. For she had taken her wand out quickly and practically, and with every word she had spoken, she’d traced her ebony wand against his neck. It was anything but a threat. Not the way she did it. The way she handled it, it was almost a caress, the tip of her wand barely touching him, always a breath shy from direct contact. Narcissa was spelling out her name in his neck, and perhaps he wouldn’t even realize it. There was a smile spreading across her red lips, a smile that couldn’t be classified as anything but malicious and one that indicated just how much she revelled in the contact between her skin and her wand. She felt empowered, intoxicated with the slight thrum of energy it always possessed, responding only to her. She retracted it almost as quickly as it had appeared, and by the way she acted next, it was as if the most recent comment hadn’t been expressed verbally, hadn’t been vocalized at all. And as quickly as the wand disappeared, so did the smile, the corners of her lips were as if they had never risen at all, or they would ever rise again.

Eyeing him again out of the corner of her eyes, Narcissa was methodically discarding options. It was irrevocable now, she was going to do something that perhaps would make her feel just a little bit ashamed come next day, but if that was the only way, then so be it. Of course, everything had to be done with process, with caution, with precise instructions that had to be followed from brain to hand to body to mouth to words.

“Spend some quality time?” Her voice was lilted as she intoned the question, again not looking at him but at the expanse of ice that was in front of them, slowly repeating his last sentence, as if speaking to a child who refuses to listen. “Indeed,” she commented sourly. “As expected you have no idea whatsoever. But then again, can’t really say I’m disappointed, when you can’t go lower than you are in my scale, right?”

Her fingers were drumming against her thighs again, a sure sign of her mental processing, but her eyes remained fixed in the Lake. She wasn’t feigning anything now. The coldness with which she had bitten the words out had been born with surprising honesty, and it almost surprised Narcissa to find out just how little she did care indeed for her nearest so-called rival in Potions. She didn’t even turn to see how he would react. She had seen everything. From bursts of hysteria, to quiet, controlled fury, there wasn’t anything that could surprise her anymore. Because she was an observer. She knew how the human mind worked. She had seen it in actions countless times, and to her, Edward was nothing more than a reproduction of said plays, those that didn’t interest her anymore, the ones who couldn’t hold her attention because really, in the end, we all know what happens. And she bit her lower lip, expecting to have an audience.

[edwardjameson]

As Narcissa looked away, Edward allowed himself a triumphant smile. For now, his greatest weakness had been overcome and it was her turn to feel uncomfortable. It didn't linger, though; no, too risky. Couldn't let her see it, he had to remain generally somber and just act confident. Closing his eyes, he let his head fall back to rest against the tree behind them. Wow, he was actually sitting next to Narcissa Black. The ice princess herself (quite at home in this environment) was seated right there, not even inches away. How many boys, particularly Gryffindors, managed to get as close as this without getting a wand drawn on them? Speaking of which, why hadn't she done so yet? His invasion was clearly unwanted and had been dragged out long enough that violence seemed like the only way to solve it.

"Merlin help me," One eye popped open, looking down at her figure as she spoke. Her eyes narrowed, she truly was the picture of menacing. Amazing how that sort of thing seemed to enhance beauty in Edward's eyes. "If you call me 'lass' one more time Jameson, you'll find yourself looking out the lake instead of looking in." To the casual observer, this may have seemed a difficult choice. Keep himself from using an affectionate title for the girl and stay where he was, or use it and die of hypothermia beneath the ice, left to eventually be devoured by the little deviants that made their homes there. Always a logical thinker, Edward elected to avoid its use for awhile. Safety first, right?

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted as she leaned in close. Second eye shooting open, Edward became very aware of her body next to his. What was a welcome invasion of his space could have been interpreted as unnerving as well. The chances of her actually using the wand on him were slim to none, but it was still a potentially dangerous act. It was like playing Russian roulette; sure, chances are that nothing's going to happen, but there's going to be that lingering fear and doubt that maybe, just maybe, it's your unlucky day. Yet, her body so close to him was intoxicating. The wand, an extension of her hand, caused goose bumps to spring up on the back of his neck. It was pleasant...but he hid it well. There was a mixture of relief and disappointment when the wand finally slipped away from his neck. He hadn't even noticed the smile until it began to fall from her lips.

Their gazes met as they watched each other out of the corners of their eyes. The stare held for what seemed like an eternity, her strikingly blue eyes betraying nothing. "Spent some quality time?" Good to know her ears hadn't failed her. Would have made the whole scene a lot less fun. A lot of pressure was relieved without her eyes trying to dig a hole in his face. "Indeed. As expected you have no idea whatsoever. But then again, can't really say I'm disappointed, when you can't go lower than you are in my scale, right?" Whew, harsh words. Edward closed his eyes again, hands moving down to rest upon his knees. He let the silence surround them for a minute or two, pondering what to say in response. Odd that she would allow someone she held in such low regard so near. He grinned an unseen grin.

"Do you normally let people you respect so little get so close to you? I mean..." he paused, nudging her knee with his own, "we're not far from on top of each other, doll."

[Narcissa Black]

{I feel diseased}

Ugh!

What was wrong with him and those nicknames? Narcissa had always been a strong opponent to name-calling, even if they were ‘endearing’ terms. To her, they were nothing more than cheap replacements to the fine tags their parents had thought up at their birth. She could normally tolerate ‘love’, ‘darling’ or some other cheap nonsense like that because her mother used them at times. Rarely. But she did. She tolerated them because she had used them once in a while. Coming from Jameson though, things like ‘lass’ or ‘doll’ were not welcome. Quite unpleasant to hear. It made as if they had some kind of relationship going on. Not necessarily a tight one, but the thought alone was enough to make Narcissa’s fingers tighten up in a small fist. Annoying little brat, wasn’t he? Oh, but she could pretend to smile, couldn’t she?

Except she didn’t want to.

So instead she limited herself at rolling her eyes and looking away yet again. Meeting his glance as she observed him out of the corner of her eye was unnerving. He was looking at her when he thought she wasn’t looking? The sentence sounded strangely unpleasant and made her lips tighten together. Her lips pursed made her look severe and made her face take a slight transformation. Not enough to make her unrecognizable, but enough to make her look older. The age she (thought) mentally was. Certainly she had to be older than what she was? It seemed a twisted repayment of Fate for her to be only a mere Fifth Year, someone one could easily discard and look over. This wasn’t Narcissa’s case, but the thought always entered her mind whenever she was trying her hardest to be…older.

When she felt him nudge her knee, she had to take a deep breath. She turned to look at him sharply, biting her tongue to keep from lashing out. She wasn’t about to lose now. Not over this. Not over anything, really.

“Wishful thinking has never gotten anyone anywhere.”

She carefully examined her nails, hoping her point got across. “But then again,” she paused, turned to look at him, her eyes wide as she examined his facial features. His eyes, that really, sometimes betrayed him, his brows, his nose and finally, she let them rest on his lips, trying, and successfully hiding the smirk. She let her gray eyes linger there, and quickly, as if she was abashed, looked up again. “You’ve always been a dreamer, haven’t you, Jameson?” She let his name slide out of her mouth, rolling gracefully out of her enunciating lips as she quickly pretended to turn away, trying to avert her eyes purposefully. Oh no, she wasn’t afraid they were about to give anything away, but she wanted him to think so, certainly. And she reached out to pick up a stranded twig, and as if by accident, she let her hand brush his in a tentative caress as she retracted it. She made her cheeks turn a slight shade of pink as she settled back. Oh, wasn’t pretending such a joy?

[edwardjameson]

The look that Edward got in return for making physical contact with Narcissa was immensely satisfying. It would have been even more so if she hadn't managed to keep herself from lashing out verbally, but getting any kind of reaction out of her was enough. He was winning an imaginary competition with no real goal and she had no cards left to play for defense. Threaten though she may, even a member of the Black family couldn't get away with harming another student on school grounds; her wand was useless. Not that it mattered; violence was beneath Narcissa, and Edward had another thing coming if he really believed he would be able to defeat her in a battle of the mind. His mistake was thinking that there were borders she would not cross.

"Wishful thinking has never gotten anyone anywhere." A smirk crossed his lips briefly. How very true, he thought. But sometimes, Narcissa, it's all you have. A privileged girl like her didn't understand the kind of life most people lived, worst part being that she probably knew she didn't understand and didn't care. What were these...people...to her? Insects for crushing, followers for abusing. She had never allowed herself to try to understand them, never allowed herself to feel anything for them. Not even hate. She paraded apathy as she rode through the masses on her high horse, unable to look down should she become overwhelmed with disgust. "But then again..." Hmm...?

His head turned almost in sync with her's, eyes locked on her's as they scanned his face. This time he couldn't read her face at all. Suddenly he felt smaller under her seemingly critical gaze. Something about her stare was different this time; she was lingering on his features, and it wasn't too comforting. Then she looked embarassed. Narcissa Black, embarassed? That just didn't happen. But that look on her face, the way she almost seemed to be...admiring him. That couldn't be right, could it? Damn...there was that weak spot again. "You've always been a dreamer, haven't you, Jameson?" A moment passed where Edward wasn't sure he'd be able to breath.

The way his name danced out of her mouth made him melt. Her expression was irresistable, and Edward nearly lost it when her hand grazed his. She touched him; sure, it was an accident, but that was nothing but a technicality. The blush that crossed her cheeks showed a complete flip in personality, but rather than skepticality it was met with a hesitant smile. "Better to be a happy dreamer than a miserable realist, right?" he said, winking as he planted one hand between them. At least he was aware enough to keep his confidence. "Which one are you, Narcissa?" Edward asked, her name rolling off his tongue smoothly. He passively pushed some of his ruffled hair off of his forehead, grinning down at her.

[Narcissa Black]

{Is there no sympathy from the sun?}

"Better to be a happy dreamer than a miserable realist, right? Which one are you, Narcissa?"

Details, details. It was all in the details. The smallest things were the ones that gave you away, like a red spot in a mass of black cadavers. But Narcissa had never been one for gruesome metaphors, and for her, the hesitant smile he presented was all that she needed to prepare herself to go for the kill. The hand that was now between them, belonging to him, representing his ridiculous hopes, was something that Narcissa felt like crushing between her own fists as she heard him speak up. She was on her burning point, but still, she gave a half smile, half ridiculing smirk and tried to appear interested in what this…Gryffindor had to say. It wasn’t something she managed to do without some effort, but she had come to know that not everything in life was handed in silver platters. Wouldn’t she know? She presented the shortest of pauses, in which she opened her mouth to speak, but then looked as if she thought better about it, and shut it again.

What was running through her head in those moments was something that was not to be published in any sense. The twig that she’d been holding in her hands for a mere five seconds cracked as she snapped it in half. The pressure on her hands was steadily rising, but she forced herself to let her fingers relax, and unclench those white fists. She had to present a calm façade. She had to be in control of this. Of this situation, and of her reactions of course. It couldn’t matter what foolishness Jameson spoke up about, because anything he could say was inconsequential. Why? Because he didn’t know anything. He liked to think he did, but in her world, whatever he had to say or think was easily discarded as irrelevant and useless. Because they lived in alternate universes, that managed to collide with each other every once in a while, resulting in…this.

“Which one does it look like I am?” It could be taken as a rhetorical question, but Narcissa wanted to hear the answer to it. Sure, Jameson had barely made it into her existing scale, but for a second, she wished to have a glimpse of what she was through his eyes. For him to actually stand whatever she might throw his way just to be able to be there. And it wasn’t self-love that made her think so. He had shown interest a couple of times already, so Narcissa was sure that his denial at leaving was inspired by nothing more than her presence at that precise spot.

“What do you think…Edward?” The pause had been brief, but enough to allow her to turn to face him fully, her eyes searching his face for any kind of reaction, and her hand moving just an inch, so it was barely touching his. The kind of contact that surges from the strict non-contact line one can produce at times. She said her name with familiarity, as if she had spent more than a second saying it under her breath, as if she had used it before, in secret.

Or something along those lines.

She was the perfect actress, delivering lines on the perfect cues that nobody but herself was able to identify, and even if she would never acknowledge it, she was having some kind of gratification over this little game she was playing with him. She liked to believe in herself as an almighty witch, even if the fantasy was sometimes short-lived when she found herself in situations like these. So she instead of ruining it all, she gave him a fleeting smile, the kind you always doubt if it was there in the first place. The kind that makes you question yourself, because there’s always the probable doubt. She looked away again, and this time, she didn’t look back.