Narcissa Black

Uninvited In-Laws | Narcissa & William

#williammulciber #c:uninvited inlaws

williammulciber:

The aftermath of the “salamander incident” – as it would be known in the annals to come, it had certainly merited a place there – had created far more work for William than he was used to. He had spent the majority of the day alternating between meeting face-to-face with stakeholders to try to remedy their anxiety or penning letters in response to frenzied questions. Although his official title in the Tibicena Line didn’t denote it, William had a great measure of responsibility upon his broad shoulders; he was expected to be the guiding hand for innumerable stakeholders and their intimate clientele.

William had had his lunch brought to his office - mutton accompanied by a cup of upright black tea, and consumed it in silence. When one of the servants came in to notify him that Mrs. Mulciber had gone out, citing some trivial excuse ( who knew, the woman had a plethora of ready-made errands or friends he didn’t know to visit, not that he minded, she always returned with a placid kiss on the cheek ), he barely noticed. An hour later he had an appointment with an advocate for the abolishment of Puffskein racing – feigning close attention, inwardly he yearned for some time alone so he could practice some Transfiguration, the incantations for which he had found in an old tome he had paid a mighty sum for. Hurriedly, he signed the man’s petition and certificate of endorsement; William Mulciber’s name would under on their morbid photographs of overworked, underfed Puffskeins – “HE REFUTES SUCH ACTS. YOU SHOULD TOO.”

What he did notice, however, was the stuttering servant girl announcing Narcissa’s Black arrival in the parlor. “Should I send her away, sir?” Florence – Amelia – whatever-her-name was asked anxiously, after stating it was Andromeda whom his sister-in-law sought. “No, no – I’ll be down soon.” William said, waving a dismissive hand. Smiling as he left, he knew exactly what he would do. Narcissa and him had no great liking for each other – one could even venture to say they had a sort of mutual enmity. The girl seemed to entertain the idea he had somehow stole her sister away, like some dastard in a children’s fairytale. No, these times weren’t so primitive as that – Andromeda had made her choice, with some coercion, mayhap, but made it all the same.

William was a practical man, though – his theatrics were sparse, and carefully positioned. This was one of those times. So, he signed some more letters, read some more, wrote some more. William’s watch ticked away, signaling the inevitable propulsion that was Time; how such things could be put to use in situations such as this. He then stared out of the window for some moments, noting with interest a goose chasing another bird.

At long last, he arose and made his way down to the parlor, the sound of his leather shoes against the stairs a vacant, nihilist pound. Opening the door to the parlor, he noted with some amusement the peculiar, quite unflattering expression upon her face. William chuckled at the hair-curling comment, ludicrous, really, hadn’t the Black daughter heard his heavy footsteps from outside the parlor? Disappointing indeed. “Indeed, William, not Andromeda. I see you’re not bothering to hide your disappointment –” Which was refreshing, in all honesty, as much as it irked him. “– I thought to say my greetings. How are you, dear sister-in-law?”

Narcissa shifted in her chair, leaning back so that she could look up at William from beneath her eyelashes without having to crane her neck; she could have stood or, more appropriately, he could have hurried to sit -- but their relationship was not one that was built on pleasant propriety and so instead, they spoke as they were. “As you say,” she retorted promptly, “I am disappointed. But who wouldn’t be, to find that fate has played such a cruel trick as to swap my dearest sister out for you...my dearest second-favorite brother-in-law?”

Of course, she only had two brothers-in-law, which was really one-and-a-half more brothers-in-law than Narcissa felt she needed; even Bellatrix’s marriage had not been one which had caused her much rejoicing, amiable as Bella had seemed about the whole idea, and Andromeda’s was something else altogether. Given that caveat, Narcissa felt that even forced civility was more than William Mulciber deserved -- although since her mother felt differently, she made a point to be less forced about it when there were other people around -- and if he was half as clever a fellow as he claimed to be, he ought to know exactly why she treated him the way she did. Given that he returned that attitude right back, she had a feeling he understood perfectly, although she had never discussed the matter with him; that would have been far too intimate a conversation for her tastes.

“You look tired,” Narcissa continued, transparently false concern dripping from her words like syrup, “difficult day?” He didn’t, actually; or maybe he did; Narcissa did not as a rule pay enough attention to William Mulciber’s state of being to take much notice of vagaries in his appearance. But accusing him of looking tired was a fine line from accusing him of looking bad, with just enough pretended-care that it wasn’t outright rude; only mostly rude. Well in keeping with their usual back-and-forth.

She uncrossed and recrossed her legs, neatly smoothing her skirts down across her knees, and settled back further in the plush cushion of her chair, almost daring him to make some excuse to cut their conversation short and bid her on her way. While making a quick exit from his odious presence was precisely what she would have chosen to do if given her druthers, Narcissa wasn’t prepared to do so as long as William seemed more inconvenienced by her being here than she was. She wasn’t sure yet which of them was at the disadvantage; he might have finished his plans for the afternoon and be in the mood for a bit of banter, for all she knew; but she was going to drag this little tête-à-tête out until she determined which of them was at more of a loss. Petty, yes, but nobody had ever made the mistake of trying to convince Narcissa that a lady shouldn’t be petty. There was a reason the word was only one letter removed from pretty, after all!

Slippery Salamanders | Open

#oh good i love novels yes #c:slippery salamanders #wixenprince

wixenprince:

The corner of his lip pulled upwards slightly, but he shrugged. Luckily, Lily could take the fall for any reason for them having wixen substances in the tea shop, but he wasn’t interested in his own secret getting out, and it was best not to have the word go around that he was caught up buying illicit creatures. There were already rumors about where his talents might come from, and the last thing he wanted was more gossip about him. “Yes, well… Still. No one likes to hear that their tea maven needs to use these sorts of measures to get ingredients,” he said simply. A moment passed and she told him her name, though he still didn’t recognize her as someone he knew. Perhaps if he had her last name… But he didn’t want her to get the wrong idea, so he just smiled politely and nodded. “Good to meet you… Cissy. I appreciate the help.”

He rubbed his palms together when she agreed, ready to get his paws on the expensive creatures. “Perfect. As soon as you start, I’ll catch as many as I can. Good luck.” He gave her a wink and then ducked away, putting some distance between the two of then to make room for the scene.

Severus casually took a few steps away from the crowd while Narcissa prepared herself, getting as close to the docks as he could without someone noticing. And when she started hollering and making a commotion, suddenly everyone’s eyes were on her. A guard rushed past, and Severus made a beeline for the rocky shore, scrambling down near the ship and soaking his shoes. He took his cloth and dipped it in the seawater, scanning the area as the woman’s shrieking continued, and then an orange tail caught his eye and whipped out of sight. Severus climbed through the craggy outcropping and spotted another, crawling up slowly into the dreary, English sunshine, and he threw himself at it with the cloth outstretched. Some of them must have fallen into the water, they look hurt, he thought, cursing to himself as the creature burned a hole through his cloth while it struggled. He managed to put out the fire, subduing it for the time being, and then wrapped it up tightly to keep it from wiggling about.

The noise from the crowd had died down, and Severus started to climb back up to the dock. He grabbed at every salamander he saw, hissing and recoiling as he was burnt by one after another. Fuck it, one’s good enough. Shoving the cloth back into his pocket, he emerged again into view and surveyed the outcome of the woman’s facade. Severus chuckled to himself, seeing a few men help her back onto her feet - what a sight to see, she must have been. He walked through the crowd once more, leaving footprints as his trousers dripped seawater on the docks, and found an opening in the group where people were starting to leave once they had seen that the poor woman was alright.

Putting on his most worried face, Severus hurried to her side “Gosh Cissy, what happened to you? I lost you back there… I’m so sorry you were hurt.” He looked to the men that were surrounding her, eyes wide with relief. “Thank you all so much for helping her - you can join us for tea later if you like, at my shop on the corner down the street. It’s on me, as a token of my gratitude.” They started to back away a bit, surprised by the sudden appearance of someone the woman seemed to know. One of the men looked like he wanted to say something, but his buddy hushed him and he bit his lip. Severus turned back to Narcissa, “Now come on, hun, let’s get you out of here.”

The men all tipped their hats and nodded modestly as they let Severus take her arm, and he smiled graciously at them. As he started to walk away with her, his concerned expression was replaced with a huge grin. “I got one!” he whispered in a hushed, excited tone, placing his palm over his wriggling pocket.

Narcissa was a little surprised when Severus came back to fetch her. She hoped then that none of the gentlemen in whose company she had had her hysterics had recognized her after all; if word got out, or worse back to her mother, that she was going around the dockyards in company of some common tea maven with whom she was on not just a first name basis but an intimate nickname acquaintance, she would be in for quite the row. Unlike most young ladies of her age and quality she was permitted, and indeed sometimes required, to frequent the rough neighborhood of the dockyards -- business interests, of course! -- but she wasn’t expected to go there in unapproved company and she certainly wasn’t supposed to be letting some fellow call her Cissy or worse hun, and mother would be furious if she found out -- but Narcissa couldn’t be cross with Severus for that; she hadn’t told him who she was, nor cautioned him against acting too familiar in public. Suddenly telling him to call her “Cissy” seemed foolish rather than charming. Hadn’t thought that one through...

But neither had she thought through how she had been meant to get away from all the solicitous gentlemen she had swooned across, Narcissa realized as they only now reluctantly stepped back to let Severus escort her away. She fluttered her eyelashes and latched onto his arm and the gentlemen let her go, although there were several dubious frowns and even a few skeptical mutters on the way; she graciously pretended to neither see nor hear their bad manners. No true gentleman would ever be so obvious with their doubts about what kind of company a lady chose to keep -- but then, she was hoping that they didn’t know she was a lady, let alone which lady, which perhaps excused them the behavior. Her time with Andromeda’s theatre friends and especially with her political allies had taught Narcissa that there were very different modes in which people interacted based on whom one was thought to be, and after a few initial misunderstandings it had actually proved to be fun to be mistaken for a common, ordinary girl on occasion. Certainly Severus never would have dreamed of so proprietary taking the arm of Narcissa Black without permission--!

She grinned back at him and his enthusiasm, then schooled her face into a pout. “Only one?” she repeated in the same hushed tones. “But I thought you said I could have one too, and isn’t this one just dreadfully needed for your poor dying client? What am I supposed to do?” She sighed gustily, playing-up her disappointment; in truth she didn’t mind, the entertainment had been what interested her and that had been jolly indeed -- but Cissy couldn’t let Severus know that she had only played along in order to, well, play along. So she pouted (she was quite good at pouting; hours spent in front of her mirror practicing had taught her just the right amount of lip to show to balance between prettily petulant and unattractively peevish.

It was hard not to giggle at all of it -- Severus’s boyish excitement, the grumpy gentlemen she could still feel glancing up at them across the shattered crate, the adrenaline rush of causing such a scene, being called hun by some fellow she hardly knew, her feigned disappointment over her lack of salamander -- but she held her distressed expression in place and said loftily, “I hope you’re going to find some way to make it up to me, sir.”

Uninvited In-Laws | Narcissa & William

Narcissa caught herself drumming her nails on the armrest of her chair and quickly drew her hand back, wrinkling her nose in distaste at the uncouth gesture. She laced her fingers together in her lap instead, to avoid an absent resumption of the gesture when her attention inevitably wandered again. Ordinarily a very cultured, poised young lady, waiting brought out Cissy’s worst habits -- at least according to her mother, who was always trying to counsel more patience in her younger daughter.

It wasn’t even that she was an impatient person, per se; she just hated when other people kept her waiting. It was rude and she deserved better, that was all -- even when the person making her wait was her sister.

The parlor of the Mulciber house was a pleasant place to wait, at least...or would have been pleasant, had it belonged to anyone else. But Narcissa was not keen on her sister’s husband, and so any room in his home had a habit of setting her teeth slightly on edge; she detested the whole place on principle as the cage that held her sister prisoner within the chains of unwanted matrimony. The whole house could have been decorated in daffodils -- Cissy’s favorite flowers, of course -- and she still would have found something to complain about. In the case of this pretty parlor, it was the drapes: she thought they were badly folded and much too heavy a material for the delicate windows they framed.

She had her attention fixed through narrow, unhappy eyes on the offending fabric, as though she might be contemplating setting them on fire with nothing but a glare -- which as a secret wix, she could do, at least if she threw in the right sort of incantation too -- and so when the room’s doorknob turned with a click, she she was facing the wrong way to see the door swing open. Turning with a smile, she was already speaking -- playfully chiding her sister, “What were you doing, curling your hair one strand at a time?”-- before her gaze settled on the well-dressed, but decidedly unfeminine and unfamilial, figure walking in.

Her nose wrinkled again, much worse this time. “William,” she said, the word dull with disappointment but little surprise; Narcissa had known that Andromeda would never have left her cooling her heels this long, if she had been home. She ought to have left ten minutes ago -- but she had refused to accept the unwelcome reality, and now she was faced with the resulting consequences. “How delightful to see you,” she continued, making no effort to match her tone to her words. “But surely your maid told you that it was your wife whose company I was seeking? Or would such a message be beyond the poor empty-headed creature’s capabilities?”

#williammulciber #tearpstarter #c:uninvited inlaws #time: after the first event #(perhaps directly after with the both of them still somewhat dishevelled by their dockyard activities?)#(or perhaps it's a day or two later and they're all spiffy again)#(or dealing with the fall-out of an inspection crack-down on shipments?)#(idk run with it any direction you like; i'll keep up!)

ministergrangerweasley

i saved your life... or at least your clothes | Narcissa&James

The first group of salamanders had been brought to the Morel Ltd dockyard, only for James to have been sent back out. He’d caught seven and still it hadn’t been enough. He understood that the broken crateful had probably housed nearly one hundred, but this wasn’t his job. It wasn’t even his company! He was struggling through the burns – the gloves they’d given him little more than regular fabric. And the frantic – and gossip-curious – people surrounding the docks did help his work. If they all just left the workers to find the salamanders on their own, maybe this would be done by now. Instead, every person wanted in on the news. Wanted to see firsthand the people beneath them trying to convince the small burning creatures into metal cages. What a laugh! Almost like a real-life theater production!

Two of the salamanders James had caught earlier had been ones that some toff had stumbled upon. As though they wanted to play the hero in order to tell their friends at the next lavish party. Remember the salamander debacle? You’re looking at someone who saved a lady in distress! Sods. He moved from the docks with his now-empty metal cage. The crowd had lessened slightly and he was able to get through much easier than this morning. He stayed close to the ledge where the streets and dockyard separated with wooden fence. Several parts of the fence had been blacked or burned away – the salamanders had scurried up the stairs and into London to get away from their captors – but James followed the ledge, anyway. Most of the salamanders that had gotten stuck near the docks had been captured, but it was the easier place to start.

Down near the end of Morel Ltd he spotted something glowing and slowed his pace. Nearby was a young lad – decked in a hat and street clothes. They didn’t seem like the sort of folk who would normally be down here at such a time so James figured they must be here for the show. The lad didn’t even seem to notice the fire creature behind him and James rolled his eyes – fucking toff was oblivious and really shouldn’t be down here in such a crisis if he couldn’t even sense something that was ready to burn off his face.

James whistled quickly, trying to get both the person and the creature’s attentions. “Mate, you better get out of here before you get that pretty coat ruffled.” Pretty was really the right word for it. Nothing like the sort of thing Sirius wore when he had to go off being the rich son of a shipping owner, but still something way nicer than anything James owned. The salamander seemed to lose it’s focus on the boy, turning towards James. He sighed at the thing scooted – it wasn’t really a run and not quite a slither, either – towards him. Luckily, with an empty cage, it would be easy enough to catch. Moving forward to meet it halfway, James opened the cage and threw it down on the salamander. It proved more difficult to lift the cage and flip it – the salamander lit a vibrant shade of orange and the metal burned hot on James’ hand under the glove as he closed the lid. “Shite!”

His waved his hand, trying to let the air soothe the burn. Glanced up at the person who he’d saved. “This thing was behind you. You’re welcome.”

#you don't need to use icons/gifs if you don't want; you know i'm a visual addict is all ;)#pottertheknotter #c:i saved your life or at least your clothes #event one

Narcissa was unabashedly delighted with herself. The little scene she had staged on Severus’s behalf had been even more amusing than she had expected and she felt so smug about her performance that she was practically skipping as she skirted the puddles the sulked about the gutters of the alley she had chosen for her exit from the scene. (One useful thing the she had learned from Andromeda’s theatre friends: never let a scene drag out past its appropriate finale.) She had twisted her hair back up into a rough knot and stuffed her cap back onto her head, not wanting to give herself away too badly, although she had made no effort to refasten her coat to hide her pretty blue skirts and the creamy petticoats that peeked out around her knees; the day’s entertainment was obviously at an end, and since she was far too late to catch her luncheon date now, Narcissa figured she might as well head home -- albeit the long way round -- so there was no sense in fussing around too much in order to go incognito again.

Instead she sashayed cheerfully up the worn and grimy cobblestones, debating the merits of splashing in the shallow puddles: childish, yes; amusing, yes; suitable to her current exuberant mood, yes; undeniably filthy and certain to be detrimental to the state of her boots...also yes.

Narcissa was on the brink of hopping into the nearest one anyway when a sudden whistle caught her attention and made her stumble. She caught herself from falling with a hand to the nearest wall; it came away covered in a thin layer of grime. Narcissa inspected her palm and wrinkled her nose, waffling between ruining her handkerchief or dirtying her coat; she barely noticed the words that the whistler spoke, so consumed was she with the dirt on her hand -- but they belatedly penetrated on the heels of his compliment as she gave up and wiped her hand on the side of her coat, figuring that it was already dirtied from her escapades on the docks while the handkerchief in her pocket was, as of yet, unsoiled.

She turned around in time to watch the scuffle as the disreputable-looking young man with the impossibly messy black hair tackled a salamander that had been quite innocently mincing along behind her (and what a shame that she had not noticed it first; she might have spirited the little beastie away as a pet, if she had seen it!), her mouth falling open slightly at the spectacle and the swearing. When the man looked up at her, her eyes widened to match; she knew this shabby young man, knew exactly who he was.

“James Potter, my hero,” Narcissa said, the words as much accusation as greeting; what was he doing sneaking around behind her? But no -- the shock on his face at the sight of her as she twirled around to reveal the pretty skirts and prettier face tucked beneath her heavy greatcoat and drab hat was real enough. He hadn’t been following her at all, at least not in knowing she was her. “What would I have done without you?” she drawled sardonically, eyebrows arching as she stared down at him. “Looks like you got a bit scorched, though. Is that what you meant to happen?”

Slippery Salamanders | Open

#wixenprince #c:slippery salamanders

wixenprince:

The woman’s amusement didn’t make much sense to him - he had a job to do, and he had paid for one of those salamanders, for God’s sake he was going to get one even if she really did need to ballroom dance with one of the guards! Sometimes people just laughed at him, and he was never quite sure why, since he was often being serious. Amusement was better than repulsion, though, and so he smiled at her before he led her through the gaggle of onlookers and workers alike.

They stopped near the edge of the crowd, and he looked up at her again as she spoke. Severus nodded - of course he hadn’t come unprepared. He had too many scars on his hands from past salamander-wranglings to forget the heavy, damp cloth that he pulled out of his pocket to show her. They became particularly easy to catch once their tails were smothered, and they could easily be warmed up in a fire for later use.

Severus was about to explain his plan when the woman suddenly remembered his name. His mouth opened, but he said nothing before he closed it again, frowning a little. It bothered him that he couldn’t place her face, and yet she could do so to him, but of course he could only blame himself for that. Perhaps he needed to spend a bit more time above ground… Though the idea didn’t excite him much.

“I do prefer Severus… But yes, you caught me. Sometimes it isn’t easy to find ingredients for very old tea recipes,” he confessed, wrapping the cloth around his hand. “I’m glad to hear you know of our tea shop… Though I trust you’ll keep this particular event under wraps. Some folks don’t like to think that we sell more than your ordinary Earl Grey… But it would be a shame to not use the full potential of our brews, if that’s what a client needs.” He stared into her eyes for a moment, searching for any hesitation, for a reason to worry about seeing the name of his shop on the headlines of tomorrow’s papers. Severus blinked when she started talking again, looking away and just hoping that he hadn’t made the wrong choice in asking her to help.

“If you’ve got a particularly good tango, I can see that working. But, ah… I think what we might need is a damsel in distress right now. Got to have everyone looking at you, running to your aid.” He stood on his toes as he tried to see past the group, mumbling to himself and pulling the cloth around his hand tighter. Then, he settled down again and put a hand on her shoulder, pointing secretively as he explained his plan. “Why don’t you come out of the crowd over there, and I’ll check the rocks that way for one of them? I can see a few right now, their tails aren’t hard to spot… Just stumble out and make a scene, say one of them caught your coat on fire. I’m sure they’ll come to rescue you.” And if they didn’t, thought Severus, all he had to do was pull his mother’s old wand from his boot and sneakily turn the imaginary fire into a real one.

“Severus, then,” Narcissa said, gracing the lanky tea maven with a smile and a slight flutter of her lashes. “Don’t worry, I do understand the delicacies of tea, and I appreciate a good cup far too much to ever undermine such a delightful shop as yours...but surely, everyone who shops there does so because they know you sell more than ordinary Earl Grey. You are located in Diagon Alley, after all...” She paused a moment, drew a breath and made a decision, and said sweetly, “Regardless, if we’re to be on first name terms, then you must call me Cissy.”

A smirk played across her lips at her own boldness: telling a man she hardly knew, and a social inferior to boot, to call her by a childhood nickname -- how salacious! Her mother would simply swoon if she had seen...which was, of course, why it was so much fun to do. Besides, if the fellow hadn’t recognized her -- and she assumed he had not, or surely he would have reacted to having a daughter of the Blacks helping him plot to steal a salamander -- then there was no need to give away the game. He might balk if he knew he was dealing with someone like her, and Cissy was looking forward to this lark too much to let Mr. Snape -- to let Severus get cold feet now.

His instructions caused her smirk to blossom into a broad grin. “Oh,” Narcissa said confidently, “I think I can definitely manage a damsel routine...” She reached up and pulled her hair loose from its knot, stuffing her cap into a pocket -- it quite ruined the line of her coat, but under the circumstances she doubted anyone would notice the slight bulge in the burly wool garment -- and shook her head to send her curls tumbling across her shoulders. She fluffed them twice, adjusted the flap of her coat to let her petticoat-puffed skirt show better, nibbled a finger thoughtfully, then drew in a deep breath and let it out in a scream.

She flung herself through the crowd, breaking the edge and shrieking again as heads all across the docks turned to stare at her; Narcissa had quite the set of lungs behind her screams, as her family could all attest, and she used her full vocal range now. “It bit me!” she shrieked, “it bit me, oh, oh it bit me!” She shook her hand around frantically as though the pain was unbearable. “It burns, oh it burns, oh I’m dying! I’ve been poisoned! Oh! Oh I didn’t know they could bite! Oh, oh it hurts!” Shrewdly assessing the cluster of men around the shattered crate -- all of them now gaping at her as she flailed -- Narcissa picked the third-best dressed of the businessmen and flung herself into his arms in what seemed a dead faint. To his credit, the startled gentleman caught her before her head hit the wooden boards (and well he should; if he had let her fall, he would have been lucky not to be ruined by the scandal once she reported his caddish misbehavior to her mother!) and the rest starting fluttering around, fishing in their pockets for handkerchiefs and smelling salts.

Narcissa let them pat her cheeks and fan her with their hands, and fought hard to hide a smile.

Slippery Salamanders | Open

#wixenprince #c:slippery salamanders

wixenprince:

Severus kept himself partially hidden behind his hat as she turned to face him, his lips twitching downwards again as he realized the lady didn’t look as rough-and-tumble as she had seemed from afar. What would someone like her be down at the docks for? Certainly she would rather hear about the gossip in the papers tomorrow? Regardless, Severus knew he had to go along with what he’d started or else she might rat him out to the guards, and he wasn’t any better now at outrunning the cops than he was as a boy.

“Not hunt really, just… Dance around while I grab one so nobody notices,” he murmured, head ducked once more as he talked under the hustle and bustle of the crowd. The lady seemed intrigued, no doubt, but he knew he’d have to put in a good word for himself before she would agree to help, so he tried to tug on her heartstrings a little. “It’s for a good cause, I promise. They’ve got healing properties, you know, those salamanders. I happen to know someone who desperately needs one, too… And I couldn’t bear to see the look on their face if I had to tell them that I was this to getting one, but no one would help me do it,” he told her, finally looking at her properly with his dark eyes. There was something about her that seemed familiar, but then again he thought most of the pretty, polite women with money pouring out their ears looked fairly similar.

Severus took a step closer to the cages and commotion, motioning for her to follow. “What do you say? I’ll get you one too, if you need one. It’s not like anyone’ll be missing them - they were being smuggled anyway - and you can rest assured I’m gonna put whatever we get to good use. I’ll give you my word.” He gave her one more smile, as charming as he could be as his mind was racing with other ideas of how to get his hands on one of the creatures if this woman turned him away, or worse.

Narcissa was positively charmed by the man’s clandestine behavior and bold suggestion. She tried to peer closer into his face without being so crass and obvious as to crane her neck; she was sure she recognized him, but couldn’t quite place where from...perhaps he had been at a few protest events with her? Just because someone recognized the usefulness of wixen curatives did not mean that one was necessarily keen on seeing wix themselves get more rights and respect than they had of course, but it was a better sign than if he had scoffed and sneered at the uncouth idea of someone smuggling salamanders...

His suggestion that she should dance around had her positively giggling. She held a hand to her lips demurely but made no other move to hide her amusement; Cissy knew that men liked it when she thought they were funny, and while they were usually too boring for her to even bother pretending (unless there was an important business reason to force her to make the effort) this one was genuinely entertaining, and she had no problem letting him know that she thought so. “That sounds marvelous,” she said, meaning it wholeheartedly. He was trying to manipulate her by tugging on her heartstrings of course, she could tell that -- and being sadly transparent about it too, the poor fellow -- but that didn’t offend her; manipulation was how things got done in this world and she appreciated even transparent attempts. Sometimes being transparent about it was just as useful as being subtle, too.

“I’m very good at dancing too, so I expect it should all go very well, provided you have a glove or something to keep yourself from being scorched,” Narcissa teased, and the piece finally fell into place: the tea shoppe, the lovely little one in Diagon Alley, that was where she had seen him before. He wasn’t the pretty ginger wix who seemed to run things (and on whom Narcissa had designs of recruitment to the Cause), which meant he was... “Mr. Snape, isn’t it?” she said brightly, crossing her fingers behind her back just in case she had gotten the name wrong -- but Narcissa did have a very good memory for names, thanks to her mother’s patient training.

“I suppose I can take a person like you at their word; no one who has such a charming tea shop can possibly be a disreputable ruffian, after all,” she giggled. Narcissa trotted to catch up to him and asked cheekily, “Shall I simply start tangoing and hope everyone turns to watch, or did you have more of a plan in mind than that?” She wasn’t much afraid of the consequences were she caught; arrest was neither unfamiliar nor frightening to Narcissa, thanks to her family connections and her political activities. But it would be rather disappointing if their caper failed and they couldn’t swipe one of the flaming little creatures for Mr. Snape’s teas. She wondered if he really did have a suffering customer in mind, or if he was just keen on taking advantage of the chance to acquire a salamander regardless. She expected that most tea mavens in his place would do the same -- and it wouldn’t be a bad thing if she could take one home, too.

Slippery Salamanders | Open

It’ll be fine, they said, we smuggle things all the time and nobody knows!, they claimed. Ever heard of Morel Ltd. getting caught up in a wixen scandel? Well, Severus hadn’t - not until that morning, at least.

Most of the teas that Severus brewed in his little shop, Tea and Talons, didn’t need much more than ingredients that could be found around the English countryside, along with a stir ‘round from magical hands. However, some more interesting clients required particularly strange brews, and along with those came increasingly more difficult-to-find ingredients. Flaming salamander slime, for one, wasn’t even available in the country! And that was exactly why he found himself rushing down to the docks in a huff after overhearing about today’s incident from a worried customer.

Water splashed up onto his coat as he neared the shipyard, the dirty puddles still hanging around from the last time it’d rained. Good thing we aren’t in a dry spell, he thought, approaching a group of workers and bustling citizens. Severus didn’t often venture down to the shipyards - Lily seemed to have more of a knack for doing business with them - but he’d specifically promised this client that he would have his tea ready by tomorrow morning, and that was simply impossible if he didn’t get his hands on at least a leg of one of these salamanders today.

He scanned the crowd for someone who looked invested in the cargo that’d been spilled, and then shuffled through the people and over to their side. Hiding his face behind his overgrown hair, he nudged them and muttered, “Hey mate, d'you reckon you could help me catch one of those things? We can split it if you like - or I can pay you.” Severus carefully peeked over at them from the corner of his eyes, his lips turning up into a tiny smile.

#wixenprince #event one #c:slippery salamanders

Narcissa would have balked at the idea that she was some common gawker come to spectate on someone else’s troubles -- but in reality she was a proper young lady, which meant that she had been groomed from an early age to do just that. What else was gossip over the tea table, but gawking at other people’s difficulties after all? What else was all gossip? The only difference was that this trouble was not unfolding in someone’s drawing room or garden party, but rather down at the dismal and dreary dockyards.

Well, the other difference was that this time, she could go and gawk in person.

Conveniently she was already out on the town, having told her mother that she was meeting her sister for luncheon and a bit of shopping; in reality she had been planning on meeting one of her less suitable associates in the Movement for a bit of plotting related to their upcoming activities protesting the deplorable state of society’s disregard for wixen individuals. Fortunately her associates understood that Narcissa was not always at liberty to meet appointments, given her mother’s disapproval of her political activities, so she abandoned her plans and changed course the moment the gossip of some kind of salamander trouble at the docks reached her ears.

It was easy to find which ship the creatures had escaped from; that was where the crowd was concentrated. She hurried to join them, rising onto her toes, but even as tall as she was all she could see were sweaty dockhands and anxious men in long coats and tall hats trying to look like they weren’t worried. She did not at first notice the nudge in her side, assuming it was just part of the jostling crowd -- but a mutter in her ear caught her notice, and Narcissa turned to look at the the young man with the sallow face smiling at her. He looked familiar, but she couldn’t place him straight off; he seemed to be equally as uncertain who she was, given his mode of address, and Narcissa couldn’t help grinning. True, with her thick hair tied back in a neat bun and the collar of her coat turned up and newsboy cap pulled low she did not look much like herself -- but to be mistaken for some common lad who might go chasing salamanders for a few pence...well, honestly it was charming. She had no idea she was fitting in so well! Andromeda would be so surprised when she told her.

“Pay me?” Narcissa asked cheerfully, turning to face him -- a surprise for him no doubt, to see her pretty brown face peeking out from the collar of her dark greatcoat. “To go hunt salamanders? How quaint, sir. And tell me, what would you do with a salamander if you caught one? You don’t strike me as the sort to hand it in for the reward...?”

14 for hc meme :D

MEME RESPONSE: #14. Puppet (Manipulation Two or One Way Street)

“…and from a sociological standpoint, it does seem so interesting,” Narcissa gushed. “I’m ever so fascinated by the wix rights movement. Aren’t you?” She let her eyelashes flutter – just a little. She didn’t want it to look like she was flirting (no more than the customary, requisite flirt of a pretty young lady speaking coyly with a handsome young man of such interesting background; if she wasn’t flirting a little people would think something was wrong) but she did want to keep him both interested and off-balance.

From the slight frown on Remus Lupin’s face, she thought she had succeeded so far – or perhaps he just didn’t much care for the day’s tea (a rich black with rather a dash too much peppermint, in her opinion, but mother loved it so).

Narcissa stirred hers – needlessly, since she had added barely a pinch of sugar to her cup which had long since dissolved – and added lightly, “Of course, just reading about it in the papers is rather unsatisfying, I must admit…or perhaps you disagree? You must do so much reading in university, I suppose you are more used to drawing vigorous conclusion from plain prose…”

“Oh, er – yes, I suppose I do, but – well, there’s something to be said for hands-on research too,” Remus said, slightly flustered (there really was far too much peppermint in this blend; Narcissa made a mental note to adjust it when mother wasn’t looking). “Er, not that I object to the reading they have us do, of course…”

“No, of course not,” Narcissa agreed quickly, “it must be fascinating, that sort of intense academic study. I do wish mother thought a university education more necessary to a young lady’s future, but she’s so dreadfully proper sometimes…” She sighed gustily, a pretense; she wished for no such thing really, but thought she could engender Remus’s sympathy by playing on his apparent enjoyment of his academic pursuits. Cissy would have quite enjoyed deeper study on certain subjects, really; her only objection to university was the idea of having to follow someone else’s lead in what she was to learn, and how. She preferred taking such matters into her own hands.

“Oh, um,” said Remus. He seemed torn how to offer sympathy for her without insulting her mother, the poor dear – or maybe he was just bored with her pouting. Most men found it charming, but sometimes it did fall flat… But then putting his overly-sharp cup of tea down, the gallant werewolf mustered himself – against either the tea or her petulance, Cissy couldn’t be sure – and said, “Well I suppose it wouldn’t be improper to go and have a look, would it?”

Narcissa had to work hard to hide her triumphant grin. “Well…not if I had a proper escort to guide me,” she agreed. “That’s an excellent idea, sir! I don’t know why I didn’t think of it myself, really.” She fluttered her eyelashes again.

#rjloopin #meme response #headcanon relationship meme #headcanon #remus lupin #remus headcanon

Random dice says... 8!

MEME RESPONSE: #8 I Kept Your Secret

It should have been harmless – just a quick little twiddle to fix a tear in her stockings after a careless climb into the hold had left behind a grievous runnel stretching from the tip of her calf-high boot to well above her knee. A proper young lady should have simply gone home to change; an even more proper young lady would have had a second pair of stockings prudently tucked in her handbag for just such an eventuality; but then again a proper young lady would not have been half-sliding down the ladder into the lower hold of a ship without escort or guide because she was too curious to wait and see the shipment.

Narcissa was just as impatient regarding her plans for the rest of the day: a stop at a shabby café to chat about the week-end’s plans for a protest outside parliament, and then meeting Andromeda for an afternoon preview show in the theatre district. Going home to change would mean missing the meeting – and while Cissy might have been able (and maybe even willing) to show up for a confab with her fellow would be revolutionaries with a torn stocking (it made her look rakish, didn’t it? like she’d been in a scuffle, how droll!) she would never go to a show in such a ragged state – even if it was probably just a tiny little closet of a theatre where her sister’s dear friend Teddy was popping onto the stage for three or four lines. It was the principle of the thing…

So Narcissa pulled out her wand. It wasn’t something she carried around on a regular basis, and certainly she never took it with her to any of her protests – but she wasn’t going to a protest today, just a café, which should be safe enough… and as far as safety went, she felt better walking the theatre district at night when she had a weapon tucked away in her skirts. And oh, how convenient to have the little stick near to hand when her stocking snagged…

Until she looked up and caught a pair of eyes looking back at her.

It was a young man, grubby with sweat and grime and poorly dressed; one of the sailors on the boat perhaps, or a dockhand sent down after her to make sure that the delicate young daughter of Tibicena Shipping was encountering no difficulties on her exploration of the family’s interests on board. His tawny face was as ashen in the shadows as she was sure her own had blanched, his eyes as wide as he stared at her unblinking.

Narcissa dropped her skirts at once, although it wasn’t the petticoats hiked up above her knee and the exposed thigh thus revealed beneath that had her gasping in horror; there weren’t a lot of people out there who could say they had seen her legs above the knee, not even sheathed in trousers (she so rarely wore trousers), but it was still only a leg…while a wand was something else entirely. A wand was a mark of a wix…

“Please don’t tell anyone,” Narcissa whispered.

And the grubby young man, for some reason, he said, “All right, then.” Then he had smiled at her – a weak, lopsided little smile, but a smile nonetheless – and slipped back up the ladder the way he had come leaving her alone in the hold with her heart pounding and her hand growing slick with sweat on the wand.

Narcissa spent the next two weeks in a state of low-grade panic, sure that any moment now the axe would fall – there would be a newspaper headline, her secret sold to the rags for a pretty penny; there would be an outraged dowager in the parlor gossiping with her mother, having heard the story from her maid who had been told the news in exchange for a flirtatious kiss; there would be a badly-spelled note demanding blackmail in the morning’s post…but there was nothing. Gradually her fear ebbed to worry then faded to nervous complacency; she told herself that he had not realized who she was, that he had seen too much of her thigh to notice her wand, that he had been drunk and forgotten…

But the next time she set foot on the docks, there he was – winking at her.

#meme response #headcanon relationship meme #pottertheknotter #headcanon #james potter #james headcanon

#meme #headcanon relationship meme

HEADCANON RELATIONSHIP MEME: 1

Sometimes you are trying to figure out something interesting for backstory (or a current plot) and you just can’t figure it out with the two characters. Or you can, but its hard to explain whats interesting about it. Whatever. This is a headcanon starter which is intended for building block headcanons based on two characters. Some are trope plots others are statements indicative of a moment or experience with the other character.

These can also double as fic prompts.

IF YOU WANT A SURPRISE HERE’S A RANDOM NUMBER GENERATOR. THERE ARE 36 OPTIONS.

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#bio #world building #application

Mod Sample Application for Narcissa Black

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☕ NARCISSA BLACK ☕ 19 - 23 ☕ STATUS: OPEN CHARACTER

☕ GENERAL HISTORY:

It wasn’t difficult for Narcissa to play the role of “the good daughter,” not when compared to Bellatrix’s ugly fits of temper and Andromeda’s love of unseemly entertainments. Her mother would sigh and smooth her hair and murmur how at least one of her children wasn’t going to drive her to an early grave – or worse, a dye bottle. That changed after Andromeda’s wedding.

A romantic at heart despite her aloof demeanor, Narcissa had been disappointed by Bellatrix’s loveless but amiable marriage; that Andromeda was wed against her will was unacceptable. The problem, to Cissy’s mind, came down to the fact that wix weren’t seen as equal members of society. It would have been scandalous for Andromeda to gallivant around with theatrical riffraff under any circumstances, but that they were wixen riffraff – that was the social breaking point.

So Narcissa determined that the only thing to do, was change society. A spoiled girl used to getting her own way, she expected it to be an easy quest; her mother expected her to tire of the effort the moment she realized it was work. But Narcissa is stubborn as well as spoiled, and she’s stuck with the cause so far, chanting at protests and chaining herself to buildings and even getting arrested. It’s embarrassing for her family, of course, but Cissy insists that she is being admirably discreet. After all, she hasn’t revealed that she’s a wix herself – and that scandal would make all of Andromeda and Bellatrix’s misbehavior combined look like tiddlywinks.

☕ CHARACTER DETAILS:

The three sisters were always close, so it was perhaps no surprise that Narcissa felt so aggrieved on Andromeda’s behalf; what would have surprised their mother was learning that even before the marriage, Cissy was helping her sister sneak out of the house to go to tawdry music halls and cheap eating houses…and sometimes, she went along.

It’s things like that which cause people to think of Narcissa as a follower, but in fact the reverse is usually true: she only lets other people lead the way when it’s somewhere she already wanted to go. Look at Remus Lupin who thinks he started her interest in wix rights. She just wanted an escort for the first meeting to stop her mother fussing, and he was too sweet to refuse.

The concept of arrest doesn’t frighten her, because she knows Constable Pettigrew will be there to bail her out; that’s what people like that are for, why you befriend them. Of course, if he ever doesn’t show up to spring her, Narcissa will likely find herself facing some unpleasant realities…but reality is for people too poor to buy their way out.

Maybe there’s no honor among thieves but political radicals are a different matter; that’s why Cissy swears Dedalus to secrecy before she shares any gossip about her fellow activists. Well, she has to tell someone - the drama is too good not to share!

Some of her fellow would-be-revolutionaries don’t think she’s committed to the idea because she has deep pockets and fashionable dresses, but caring about her clothes doesn’t mean she can’t care about anything else. Besides, without people like her to draw the public eye, how much newspaper coverage do they think they’d get?

☕ SUGGESTED FACECLAIM: VANESSA MORGAN

#bio #world building