Cheap Shots

[enigma]

(( I’m in the mood to rp out Drake’s ‘sinister’ side, so any takers? Let’s keep in mind to play fair - he takes a hit, your charrie takes a hit. No godmodding, and let’s have fun. Now if you would happen to agree that Drake wins, I’d love you forever, but it‘s not necessary <3 Spectators to the duel are welcome, but no interfering ))

Not like I need to depend upon anyone
Since I can see the lack of need for me to be here at all
One more anthem for the know it all
I won't be standing up for long I better learn how to crawl
Learn how to crawl

In ten minutes I'll be laying out flat on the floor

Classes were out for the day, and Drake couldn’t have been more ready. It was as if someone had been placing a lighter under his arse the whole damn day, because he couldn’t stop moving and messing around. Twice he had been asked if he was feeling okay, and one of his snide remarks earned him a detention later in the week. So already his foul mood was beginning to take form as his eyes hardened and were bleak to look at. The marvelous gleam that usually crossed his face was dull and cold. Giving him much the presence of ‘don’t fuck with me’. He truly hated it when he was so sinister in mood, because he always came to regret it later. But this couldn’t be stopped. It was one of those days. One more little slip of the tongue, and he’d be sending hexes and cussing towards the catalyst.

But he still had some reign on his feelings. The beast hadn’t switched on, and so he was still treading carefully with each step. Few ever really released Drake’s anger, so none never knew what he was capable of - save a few. So they took one look at his bad day and decided to make a field day of it. Bad, bad move darlings. He was nearing hostile, even his muscles were flexing dangerously as he walked down the steps. His tight jaw line, protruding his Adam’s apple and throat line. Each step seemed to echo in his ears.

Like I need to defend my own innocence
So what, I did it, I admit it, and I'm pleading the 5th
One more anthem for the know it all
I won't be standing up for long I better learn how to crawl
Learn how to crawl

In ten minutes I'll be laying out flat on the floor

Clank. Clank. Clank. A few younger years caught a glimpse at him and took flight in a different direction. He surely could have been mistaken for a Slytherin, with his apparent disdain and arrogance. But one, very big thing separated him from the serpentine; he didn’t like feeling superior and angry. He didn’t like in the back of his mind, feeling so pissed off.

A number of things had started his day so wrong. Just to ramble off a few; waking up to find a fellow Raven had stolen his drawing that Bella made for him, his favorite robes were MIA, he bumped his head in the middle of the night, showing a rather nasty mark under his mat of hair - and lastly, hearing from a different house that his sister was a slut. Now, it was a well known fact she wasn’t Miss Innocent. But he was very short with those that put-down his sister, so needless to say, he flew off the handle. Mr. Self-Destruct was ticking away. So now, his hands were sweaty from clenching them as he finally stopped at the bottom of the steps and sighed. All he had to do was make it through the day and by tomorrow he’d be back to his normal self - if there was such a thing. At least he wouldn’t be so asinine.

8 minutes from losing it a little bit
5 minutes your description might be starting to fit
3 to go and I'm forgetting all that I've ever known
I won't be standing up for long I better learn how to crawl

[Narcissa Black]

{Lights out on Division Street, & all the hate that rises}

Not a good day, that was for sure. But weren't all her days bad, lately? It seemed as if she was in a permanently sour mood, with a twisted sneer firmly in place everywhere she went. Even some of her Housemates were starting to avoid her, as the only things she handed out were smug and, if she was completely honest, rather futile remarks. What was the point of ensuring that absolutely everyone labeled her as a snarky bitch? Of course, there was no offense taken from her part. After all, she hadn't been living for fifteen years without knowing what to take from what was offered to her. And insults weren't one of them. Liberty of expression and all that? Sure. Or just plain carelessness on that sector.

Yes, she was coming to that. To that point where she was letting go of all the things that seemed so, so, extra. Sometimes she couldn't believe she had thought them vital for her survival. Wasn't she thinking properly now? Wasn't she being herself? Merlin, how many times had she heard those questions being directed at her? More persistently now, as she listlessly sat at the back of each class, not even pretending to preserve that image of the eager achiever she had carefully elaborated for herself over the years. Not even patrolling and handing out unnecessary hexes entertained her anymore. Not that it had been the center of her existence before, but now it didn't even have a decent taste for her. To wave her wand and see the red sparks shoot out the tip of her wand...it was almost pathetic. And how could this be possible? Her, apparently tired of being a witch. What a shame! She could almost hear the incredulous gasp of Aunt Calpurnia.

And then, her lips twisted into a smirk as the very vivid image flashed through her mind. Oh yes, she could picture it just perfectly. But then again, wasn't Calpurnia the most predictable creature on earth? Yes, indeed.

And even the pleasurable savoring of all their shocked expressions soured as once again her apathetic mood settled in. Seriously, it was all so cliché. How was it possible for her to fall into such a vicious and repetitive circle? Not her professors, not her classmates, not her Housemates, not even her friends were present in her existence at the moment. It was as if she was looking through the wrong end of a pair of Omniocculars. Tiny, tiny, irrelevant dots. Easy to blot out in her crimson anger, easily to destroy in her passive vices. So was it really such a surprise for her to find herself in the Entrance Hall without having any notion of directing her steps toward that place? And it was laughable, because there wasn't anything she could do about it but shrug and remind herself there wasn't anything new to it anymore. Vague and unresponsive.

What was happening?

"You're such a fool, Narcissa." And conversing with herself had lost its insane novelty too. Because maybe, if she heard her thoughts spoken aloud, she would realize she made no sense whatsoever.

[enigma]

If you feel so empty
So used up, so let down
If you feel so angry
So ripped off so stepped on
You're not the only one
Refusing to back down
You're not the only one

His fingertips dug into his wet palms - making a quite amusing spectacle. Rarely did he find himself at the edge of the cliff, looking over with large keen eyes. Listless and colorless, they would peer unto the ground below, and scan like a ravenous hawk. Finding his options slim to none of sane, he would lean back his head and laugh mechanically. A shrill, cold laugh that left you moving from your seat to put distance between the madman. Then, his body would tense, his nerves would recoil, and he would end the waiting. The suffering. Just one more step, and he would drop into the darkness, choking air from his lungs with each gasp. Not even his muscles nor strength would be able to save him, lying limp like a little puppet in the water. Was that what he wanted?

Was that in all honesty, what he was waiting for? His sensitivity seemed shrewd and rationed like a soldier at war; so his deciphering skills were booting into overdrive. No - that wasn’t what he wanted. As perfect as it would feel, to just let everything go, there would be a mess. There was always the task of the cleanup crew to come in. Not for his body, that would forever be lost to the unforgiving sea - but for his parents, his friends, his family. Could he be so self-centered to think they wouldn’t hurt and cry? Who would defend Danni when she got herself into some deep water? As many troubles as he faced at home, none would compare to the hurt he would inflict on his sister, and his friends. Nothing more than a ghost to his father, and a mannequin for his mother. But he was a symbol here, in this god forsaken castle. He was a figure, a new look at hope.

Would they remember his name if they knew? Or would they curse it into a thousand black holes? So instead of giving in, instead of touching that sweet release - he would move away from the ledge. ’Not like this father, you son-of-a-bitch. You’ll have me one day, but not right here, or now.’ He cleared the remaining scraps of the insanity away from him, as a voice ticked in his ear. Oh yes, a familiar one. But his finger couldn’t quite be placed on the figure. He released his clenched fist, and turned around, in bloody good time to see the youngest Black sister start speaking to herself. Quite a jewel to be found, alone, and obviously in a pissy mood. If he wasn’t so close on the brink of his own destruction, he might have taunted the little girl.

A chuckle escaped his mouth, before his mind screamed no. No, no, no you dumb idiot. The wound had already been made, so his empty eyes turned to her with growing venom. ”Whats this? A Black finally admitting herself a fool?” The sneer was most unkind, but long since deserving. Though Narcissa didn’t seem to be the greater threat, she still didn’t mind keeping her trap flying about some of the things Danni had committed. He shouldn’t be so cold, but at this moment, the Entrance Hall felt like fucking Antarctica.

[Narcissa Black]

{Through the cracks in the pavement, as the temperature falls.
(This is where is hits the ground)}

It wasn’t something she made a habit of, and she was sure a lot of people know it. Narcissa didn’t just wander. To walk around aimlessly was just a waste of precious time. Time, that before, was always lacking for her. Doing one thing or another, there was never enough time, time. But these days. These lingering, lazy days, it seemed like she was drowning in it. Drowning in all the leftovers that hadn’t seemed that important back then. Now they had become choking hazards, around which she never seemed able to get enough oxygen. Great gulps, and she was never satisfied. At the beginning, she had thought it to be some kind of ironic metaphor to her insatiable ambition, but as time moved on (at it’s snail pace), she had come to coin it for what it was: melancholy. Incredible and perhaps just a tad bit unpredictable. But not so, if you had observed the pattern of her actions in the last few months. Had anyone been looking so closely? Not even Lucius.

Not even Bellatrix.

Hell, not even Andromeda, who was always, no matter what, keen on both of her sisters’ actions.

And why did she always end up thinking about her family in the dreariest moments? It was almost a taboo to her. If she was thinking about her family, it only meant she was falling down that black pit of tradition in the making. Yes, down that strangely familiar hole where you could choke on the building hysteria. She had to come to her senses; her head had to break the surface. Sometime. Some-time.

It was stupid to believe there was anything but perfection in this so called almost royal bloodline. Morbid expectations to live up to, and the eternal damnation of the pressure you always felt when you were being observed. Not even when you were absolutely alone did you ever feel that way. Because feeling solitary and feeling alone must never be mistaken. Solitariness is something you may revel in from time to time, and Narcissa had always welcomed it, but the feeling of aloneness was something she had learned to crave. Not because of what it entailed (utter freedom), but because of the lack of it in her everyday life. Expectations were what kept her there.

So what would happen if…?

“What’s this? A Black finally admitting herself a fool?”

[/b]

Oh sweet Circe.

What appealing it was, hearing that searing venom in a strange voice. A voice that had never before bothered to bother her. Undeniably male, inconsequentially pained. Without opening her eyes, Narcissa could almost hear as a small deprecating smile draw on her lips. She wasn’t mocking, oh, not yet, but would it be considered awkward if she confessed just how wakening that tone was? So long.

But awakening or not, there was malice, and somewhere, unheard, was a taunt. So, opening her eyes, Narcissa coolly seized up none other than Drake Valo. Rather unknown to her, and just a tad bit disappointing, as the adrenaline that had raced through her veins for just a beat had made her senses tingle, making her aware of the need to actually feel something other than this reluctant redundancy. She was eager for a fight, but Cissa would never stoop so low as to actually start to pick it, and for a moment, his tone had suggested that yearned release. But to see it was Valo, a specific Ravenclaw who Narcissa knew next to nothing about, it made her blood slow down to a calm and boring thrum.

“Indeed,” she answered morosely. “Enjoy and savor it, Valo. Spread it around if you will, or whatever it is that you Ravenclaws do to entertain yourselves,” she said, ending the sentence with a burst and involuntary sigh. Her gray eyes glinted in the low light as she assessed the person standing in front of her. “But,” she paused for just the fraction of a moment, “I do find that being a confessed fool is better than pretending to not be one at all. While all the time, you can be found drowning in the catastrophe that your life will turn into when you realize that in the end, you, indeed, are more than a fool.” Her lips twisted up in the mock cheerfulness of an empty smile as Narcissa’s eyes became satisfied with herself. So perhaps her sentence was just two words too long, and her whiplash tongue would go unnoticed, but that was the closest she would go to admitting that all she needed, was an assault to her senses.[/color][/blockquote]

[enigma]

Would you mind if I killed you?
Would you mind if I tried to?
Cause you have turned into my worst enemy.
You carry hate that I don't feel.
It's over now,
What have you done?

His eyes lingered dangerously, and his face in stone. But the noise that ruptured itself from his deep throat, harbored itself in his veins and bloodstreams - seeped out into the cold entrance. The chuckle so sinister, but at the same time bored and drawn on. It bounced it’s calling off the walls a few times, but then ceased, like everything else in the monstrous room. If anyone were to have labored breathing, it would suffice to be equivalent as having it broadcasted around the world. Nothing was moving, just as time was standing still; like it had nothing better to do, than watch a considered ‘adult’ and a keen fifth year swap a smooth volatile tongue. The remarks just lay heavy in the air, as that too seemed to be waning on empty.

Her words were jutted and sincere, but very long for a short snippy remark that he would assume from someone that probably made a living degrading the lessers and talking down to everyone. Has she lost her touch, or was she merely so caught up in her evaluation of a boy she never met, that her mind strayed? Perhaps he wasn’t the only one dealing with conflicting thoughts. But what on earth could have the ice queen so rattled, that she couldn’t manifest a quick jagged remark? Oh no my dear; this one will be worth a little extra time. ”Us Ravenclaws?” he inquired with a genuine interest, quickly smoothed into a sugarcoated venom. ”Why I’m impressed you even realized there are others besides yourself, seeing as snakes seem to consider themselves the center of gravity.” He lifted his chin and nodded, as he turned to face the youngest Black. Though younger than he, she did have some substantial qualities, that her other sisters lacked.

He watched the cruel smile contort her face, and he involuntarily shifted his dark eyes to the ceiling. He then took a step back and cackled again, this time sheer amusement. Almost mocking her, as he placed a hand over his heart and lowered his head. Hair fell in his face, as he shook his head. Dramatically, he wobbled over to catch the staircase and put all his strength on the polished railing. ”Oh, your words, Narcissa…they hurt.” He stayed theatrical for a moment longer, then eased himself into a more comfortable posture, folding his arms, and starring directly at her.

If there were a problem he didn’t have, it would be the ability to look someone straight in the eye. To see just what kind of animal lay behind the thin image of a human. He could see this Narcissa was a strong girl, but also very naïve. If she thought he was even remotely damaged by what others called him, she had best be finding a new dagger to stab him with. He sighed, then spoke again, this time, only short. Not prodding with some hidden means for conflict. ”You know what, for all those words you just poured out, I’m surprised your not gasping for air. Point taken though - at least I don’t sit around waiting for pity and submission from those with no backbones to protest.” He paused, then continued on with severity in his deep chords. ”Maybe I am more than a fool, but at least I’m not a blind. What are you my dear, the Ice Queen of starkness and mood swings? Hardly modest.” His voice stopped bleakly, awaiting her response.

[Narcissa Black]

{Lights out on Division Street. Repeat it.}

Surprisingly, her next answer came immediately, without the need for her thoughts to scramble in earnest to reach an eager agreement. It was an automatic response; hearing her birth name uttered by a complete stranger was one of the quirks she wouldn’t stand for. Nothing personal, it was just too out of their league to be able to fraternize with her. It was something that was used with permission, not upon intromission.

“It’s Black. Not Narcissa, not Cissa, not anything else, but Black.” She paused to tilt her head, observing his face severely. If indeed she had planned on finishing that sentence, she kept quiet, trying, in fact, to be able to gauge this…person standing in front of her just a touch more deeply. It was a talent of hers, she thought. And of course, not everyone proved to be as simple-minded as how she and her family made them out to be, but most of them were. So, when she found a dare, she was able to recognize it. For sure, Drake Valo was no simple wizard, and, much to her skepticisim, Narcissa found herself interested. Not in his physique, not on the words that were spilling from his mouth or the gestures his face was inspiring. There was more to it. It was simple to read other people. Like scripts by a bad playwright, they were predictable and oh, so flawed. But now, Narcissa was getting glimpses of a faint outline of what could be a truly remarkable piece. One of those that you knew you just had to challenge in those egotistical tackles, where you wished to prove your superiority by grounding them into dust.

But was that possible?

She was a remarkable observer, but Valo was more so. “Ah, ah,” Narcissa lifted her right index finger in a scolding fashion. “Never assume. That makes you weak...and so, so, easy.” She was being surprisingly honest to a person who could possibly prove to be more than a small danger factor and she had just merely crossed words on the improbable occurrence of him chalking it up. “But you couldn’t possibly know that, could you?” she simpered. False. She was sure Valo knew this, and perhaps a bit more about this game, but taunting was never out of her own personal picture. It was a natural mechanism. Not of defense, but of existence. “And of course, wrong.” Nonchalantly, she took a step forward, her gray eyes narrowing automatically at the sound of his laughter. So sharp, it almost made her wince by the sheer crudity of it all, but she managed to keep a stoic expression. Not knowing why, she felt underestimated, as if Drake couldn’t help but think less of her, and the thought made her want to smile. It wasn’t unusual. As a matter of fact, Narcissa was prepared for it, expecting it since the beginning. Not even this day could keep the sweet taste of having a slight advantage out.

“Spare me the theatrics,” she snapped. Anger wasn’t really sparked off inside her, not yet, but she could feel the tension in the pit of her stomach building, coiling its copper wisps around her nerves, waiting, preparing to spring at any given moment. “Apparently, observations aren’t meant for fools.” She crossed her arms in front of her, her slender hands resting comfortably as she took a pose that was too familiar for her to even think about it twice. She shifted, her right foot jutting just a bit in the new position. Every movement he made was followed by a flick of her eyes. Narcissa had seen what underestimating someone (anyone) could do, and she was not going to allow that to happen to her. It had only managed to sink Andromeda faster than a ship with rotten galleons, and Narcissa knew he stood too many chances before her.

“What am I?” she mock repeated, pretending to think the question over, all the time, inside her mind, the anger growing, amounting to a sliver of boiling coals inside it. “See, I don’t believe that’s for you to decipher. Submission only comes willingly. And contrary to popular belief, pity is not waiting to be picked up just because you deserved it. Pity defines many an existence, becomes the soul center of those tangled up in their loom of everyday living.” She was almost singing. It brought up in her a single-minded pleasure to be able to recall that anger in herself once again. Even if it was aimed at a person who, maybe, just didn’t deserve it. Who judged that? Of course, she had to be the judge. Not many things could be trusted in the hands of other people, much less something that had to do with the most inner-workings of her mind.

“But how could you know that? Since you suffer from everything but self-compassion, believing it to be nothing more than an unnecessary weakness.” She shook her head mock-sadly her eyes glinting with mirth. “And please, let’s stray away from the topic of modesty. Hardly relevant, seeing as you don’t believe in it yourself.”

[enigma]

They say freak
When your singled out
The red...
It filters through

So lay down
The threat is real
When his sight
Goes red again

He watched, almost unblinking at the sudden distress that imposed Narcissa - or more corrected, Black. It must have been one of those personal triggers that were oh so easy to come by these days. Not saying that she was a common wizard, straying much from the truth in that thought. Rather, everyone was on end. What was with the mood these days? Everything that was once crystal clear became slaves to their own fashions. One bad day, and the rest turned to shit. They simply didn’t count your good deeds anymore - instead everything was dealt by your sins. The more, the better for fitting in. It crossed his mind irritably, thinking that she, the youngest Black considered him so far beneath her to use her given name. This, was a key factor to why he despised those with power. At least who felt they had some. It’s easy to make the rules for everyone else, but when it came time for them, then god be damned. They were superior. They, whom Narcissa was falling into the category of; seemed to be fed from a silver spoon.

But his face didn’t contort in the disgust. In fact, it didn’t change much at all. If she wanted to be known as nothing but a last name, an impression of snooty upbringings, then she was to be his guest. Indeed she was an intelligent girl, but also very, very spoiled. He wasn’t going to feed her ego, but decided complete belligerence wasn’t necessary. ”Whatever, Black.” He let his indifference show through barely closed teeth. Although he paused on the Black. He didn’t know much about any of them to be honest. From what he heard, there were two misfits in the equation - one a raven, much like himself. And the other, a marauder, and a cocky punk. It didn’t matter much to him. Instead, he was interested in her reference to simply being a Black. A name that was meaningless outside the wizarding world. A title, that her eldest sister, Bellatrix, also referred to. He picked up on Narcissa’s quick personality and undoubtedly intelligent IQ - which seemed to outshine Bellatrix’s cruelty.

He watched her wave a slender finger at his remark, and refrained from laughing, yet once again. The mockery in her voice was very intelligently contrived. If he was in a fouler mood, it would set off his anger. Even now it boiled a little under his skin, but he couldn’t lose. Not this far into the game. He at least had to give her something to remember if he lost, but even losing wasn’t an option for him. It would be an instant failure that he would not allow. ”You’re right. I couldn’t possibly know that, save the few wits I have seen in your house. I believe you are actually quite close to them, no?” A cheesy blow, that would skip off her shoulder, but he didn’t mind. ”Of course, an assumption could be quite valuable if you know how to use it - then again, it could implode.”

Her rapid snap finally broke his strain to keep from his natural mockery and sarcasm. He laughed heartily once more by her apparent dislike for him chalking this meeting up to be nothing more than killing time. He honestly didn’t find much need to be serious with this sour girl, yet he felt himself want to correct her - to prove her wrong. Perhaps that is exactly what she wanted, playing on every guys weakness to be the winner. But he couldn’t help his natural drive to try a feat quite unimaginable. ”Fools, why now you’re just being cold.” He let each word again come through unfazed. It was she in the long run that would make the mockery upon herself.

”Ah, ah.” He cooed, repeating her finger motion of a time-out. ”Let’s not assume anything Narcissa. You see, I can make many observations that you would consider blasphemy. Submission comes from either wise men, or fools. Fools like you’re Slyth cult that are afraid of what? A masked coward trying to end the world? Like we all haven’t heard that one before. And wise men, only submit when they acknowledge an equal. You? You’re not my equal - maybe better, maybe worse. But never my equal.” He let his last words come out as a bitter snarl. He was rather surprised by her ability to believe she was better than absolutely everyone else. News, darling - you would be a nobody without your last name, of which you embrace so strongly. ”And pity…oh lovely pity is something you should be accustomed to - because I pity the pathetic brainwashing you must have been induced to over your childhood.”

He had successfully done it now, the beginning of the end. He had managed to insult her in just about anyway imaginable, but it felt good. She was his release - his punching bag for pent up anger. His eyes sharpened over to the girl, completely ignoring her last ditched effort at throwing his own words in his face. He didn’t need her to tell him shit about what he was or believed in. He could feel it now, the sharp pang of horror racing down his spine. The rigid appearance of hatred, consuming his vision. He was letting himself become a monster again.





OOC; Sorry it took me so long - I can't wait to see where this goes!

[Narcissa Black]

{Goodbye to the memories,
(the fever that will not break)}

Her eyes were lazily taking in the scene, her breath controlled and her mouth closed into a tight line. It wasn’t so much the anger that was surely boiling underneath her skin that made her pause and analyze, but what Valo was saying. Indeed, the Ravenclaw could have no idea as to what she was, what she represented, but for an assuming wizard, he’d pretty much hit dead on target. Not being one to consciously admit it, Narcissa limited herself to arching an eyebrow, a mocking smirk featuring in her lips as she tried to calm herself down. That roar that had been building up inside her pent-up emotions was clawing to be let loose, and in frenzy, she didn’t want to lose control. Because once that was done, you were done for. And his first blow was weak, childish even, making Narcissa wonder if perhaps he’d miscalculated on his thoughts. Not knowing for certain was enough to drive her over the edge, but she let her eyelids flutter close for a moment before opening them again, trying to determine whether he was just holding back, or that was all there was to him.

“Assumptions are made to be given to those who have no knowledge of what goes outside their personal and perfect misjudged life.” True enough statement, but it didn’t have any bite behind it. She hadn’t directed it at him, but only as a way to skive his claimed knowledge on the factor. “Why waste your time with them? Too presumptuous to actually think there’s nothing more to the world than your own personal opinion?” Oh, she was one to talk, wasn’t she? But he had no way of knowing that she always assumed, whether she wanted to or not. Because presumptuousness was deeply ingrained in her, and sometimes, her opinions were the ones that had to reign. Even if she was badly mislead and had no idea as to where she stood, that was the way to function. Every day, every action, every motive behind a thought…she assumed. No matter that her assumptions were based off close observations, they were nothing more than that because she could never speak up for another human being. Not even her sister, whom she claimed to be closer to than most. And with that revelation, a sad flood of indignation arrived, and Narcissa’s eyes narrowed again. If only Valo knew what was going on inside her mind, there would be more ammo to kill her three times over.

Weak, that’s what she was proving to be. And for her to suddenly acknowledge it, meant everything could come tumbling down in a matter of moments, if she didn’t take up the beams of her beliefs in her own two hands. Why had she chosen this moment to analyze that specific aspect of herself? Hadn’t she been the one to carefully—artfully dodge those wonderings for years without end?

And yet, she refused to give it up. “They say that the mouth speaks from the abundance of the heart,” Narcissa quoted idly, her fingers tightened into small, angry fists, the only outward sign of her ever-growing fury. “If fear is what consumes you, then so be it, Valo. Reflect it on whatever—or whoever you wish. But the truth is still awaiting to spring on your back any given moment. Who ever said fear was the ulterior motive behind our actions? And again, you’re making a generalization you know nothing of. Perhaps if you’re so interested and weren’t such an absolute abhorrence, I’d provide you with snatches of information, here and there. It’s not about cheap shots at anything, Valo. It’s about resistance and admittance. You either acknowledge it, or pretend it’s not there. But all the same, it won’t make it go away.”

Somewhere, along the way of those damnably confused lines, her mouth had tilted up in a smile. A genuine one at that. Because now, now she was speaking of what she knew, of what she had experienced, and in that, she had the upper hand. Perhaps he wouldn’t even know, perhaps it would pass by unnoticed, but all the same, she had a small victory to celebrate for, even if the dull roar that was going on inside her ears at the insults she’d just been witness to was anxiously awaiting its release. Nothing could take this down…

”And pity…oh lovely pity is something you should be accustomed to - because I pity the pathetic brainwashing you must have been induced to over your childhood.”

Her existence suffered a long pause, her pupils dilated and her mouth opened slightly in incredulity.

She wasn’t one to offend easily, was she? At least, that’s what people liked to think. But getting to her was simpler than what someone would give her credit for. For in her pride, in her arrogance, lay her utmost weakness. Her downfall was just a scene waiting to be played out, and Narcissa had spent most of her life dancing around the fringes of that horrifying scene. It was too improbable an occurrence for her to ever take it much on count, but now, as she was faced with his words, there was nothing she could do, but acknowledge that the lazy uncoiling of her anger had turned into full-fledged fury. Sudden abhorrence coursed through her veins as he uttered the final touch to his offense, and the growl that was emitted from her throat was one she’d come to fear in herself. That was only the beginning of the outpour. The beginning of the throbbing hysteria that could overthrow her five analytical senses into oblivion. Without consciously permitting it, she had taken two steps closer to Valo, and her wand was clutched tightly in her right hand, in direct contact with his throat.