∟ ( SURPRISE ) being found without an article of clothing (example: being found shirtless)
a c c e p t i n g ✓ ✓ ✓ seduction starters
╳ She had waited impatiently for the roar of the Gryffindors to dissipate from their red and gold tent, the raucous crowd carrying their celebrations back into the castle and up to their high tower for what would inevitably be a night of intense drinking and merry-making. ( Of course, the reason behind their festivities had been hard-earned, even she - a Slytherin through and through - could admit. ) Ravenclaw had put up quite the fight and a game that had started in the early morning hours had gone on well into the afternoon! Even though it was the first match that Narcissa had deigned to watch in the entirety of her school career...the show had been well worth it.
Now her fingertips graze the thick canvas, easing it back as she slips inside the quiet of the lion’s den with serpentine grace. Narcissa allows her arctic eyes to trail over the room as they adjust to the change in lighting. She tries and fails not to inhale the thick scent in the air, heavy with sweat and a heady mixture of the primal sort of pheromones that tend to come with competition and victory. Blunt teeth nip at the inside of a soft cheek as she weaves through the wooden lockers and chests, heart rate rising with that same treacherous organ as it treks to her throat just to get stuck there.
She knows that he’s still here --- he is the one that told her to come find him, after all. Of course, she’s almost certain he meant outside the tent but...are any of the Blacks really known for their patience? In any case, she owes him for his little stunt in the stands earlier.
She uses the surname out of habit - on the off chance that there’s still someone else lurking about. Narcissa may be imagining it but she can feel the heat in the room rising, settling over her aristocratic nose and her high cheeks like the starting wave of a fever. It’s only when the sound of the water stops that she realizes it had been running at all, steam spilling out of the entryway to the backroom in appropriate form for harkening what came next.
Narcissa is unabashed in her staring, eyes beginning at the top of his dark head and the droplets of water bouncing off the ends of his unkempt curls. She inhales deeply, lower lip suddenly caught between blunt teeth as her gaze continues its leisurely stroll past gold-flecked eyes, a sun-burnt nose, and lips that part mid-sentence to curl into his signature, impish grin. She holds up two fingers, not so much requesting as demanding his silence as she follows the path of a rivulet of water along the curve of his Adam's apple and down the line of his tanned chest all the way to his navel. Only a few inches below - tucked securely around his waist - is a towel and the blonde swears that she has never known a more cursed object in her life.
❝ Well then, ❞ she breathes deeply, dragging her gaze back to his hazel irises. Infectious as his grin is, the girl can only mirror it once she’s wetted the parched flesh of her lips with her tongue. ❝ I know I came in here for a reason, but, wouldn’t you believe it, I’ve quite forgotten what it was? ❞
