so here i am {closed}

[anguium]

What: A chance meeting.
Where: A Tesco.
When: 6 September.
Who: Draco, Lucius, and Bellatrix.
Warnings: Draco getting scarred for life. Again. EDIT: Death Eater Sex Scenes (No Draco Involved Thank Merlin).

Draco is not, as it happens, expecting anything interesting to happen to him this evening. He's in a Tesco in Muggle London picking up a few things before heading back to where he's staying the night so that he can relax and have tea and something to eat. Living without a house elf around has been difficult but he's managing well enough—or at least without outright disaster. He's not completely useless. Most of the time.

Mostly he just wants to grab what he wants, pay, and go. Muggle brands escape him so he's just picking what looks good, trying to remember how the Muggle money system works offhand. It's not too difficult thankfully, after Scorpius helped explain it to him. And lo: one Draco Malfoy, prim and proud as ever, hair tied back, hat pulled down, and coat on to protect from the rain outside, carrying a small number of essentials as he makes his way to pay.

Comments

[malificence]

They're both accomplished liars, though Lucius' is hardly a family trait so much as a line of defense, necessary with the associations he's developed. Either way, Bella's right, it doesn't really work with Rodolphus Lestrange. Somehow he knows, somehow he sees through, and certainly he's not susceptible to the emotional manipulation Lucius excels at.

He glances out towards the street, just confirming what Bella says is true, and then he wraps his arm around her. Closer is better when you're apparating two, but this close? Probably not strictly necessary. But she doesn't protest, and there's only a soft popping sound before they appear again, this time in the master bedchamber at Malfoy Manor. "All present and accounted for, I believe."

YOU BET I UPLOADED THIS SILLY ASS ICON

[scinlac]

She doesn't protest then, and she doesn't seem to have any intention at all whatsoever to bring distance back between them when they re-appear in his bedroom. All the better for his current houseguests – she isn't planning on leaving this room.

"I reckon so. Or else I can't bring myself to care, which makes me wonder what we thought we needed the vodka for." And it definitely seems to be very sincere wondering, that absolutely has her focus, because she is absolutely not kissing him right now.

Oh, wait. No, that's what's happening.

EXCELLENT USE OF THAT PAID ACCOUNT

[malificence]

"I haven't the slightest idea, unless one of us was exhibiting signs of sobriety." Which seems incredibly unlikely, given the way his head is swimming. Obviously that feeling is exactly why he keeps his arm tight around her; they're keeping themselves upright in a world that somewhat resembles a carousel at the moment.

He doesn't have such an excellent excuse for why, when she leans up and kisses him, he not only kisses her back, but shifts his grip so he can lift her just a little higher as he leans against the post of his bed. But then, why does he need an excuse? It's not the first time this has happened. It won't be the last, and as the fingers of one hand thread into her tousled hair and fist there, he's very glad of that fact. It would be a sacrifice to give this up.

[scinlac]

The sweets are dropped and forgotten in the moment of it. She does find that the spinning is less of a problem when she focuses on one thing at a time, and if that one thing is pressing her body against his, that's just as well. It's true, though: there is no need for excuses, not with all their previous arrangements in place. It isn't as if Rodolphus has to be here for this. He isn't always, and neither is Lucius, and neither is she. Sometimes, closing the doors on one is necessary, isn't it? And if she can cope being on the other side of it, so can he.

But honestly, that is a lot of thought for this time of night in this compromising a position, not that it stalls her. When he grips her hair, she grins into the kiss, and eagerness (and practice, perhaps) makes up for steady fingers when she begins to unfasten his robes. It would do her some good to think about the inevitable walk of shame to the apothecary tomorrow before work, or to think about the fact that work is lurking and sleep could do her some favour before that, but she is in an entirely single-minded mood right now.

[malificence]

The vodka is set on the floor, a dull clink of glass against stone, and then he has both hands free. He's not thinking of Rodolphus right now; perhaps he'll recall later that Bella is, in the eyes of the world, another man's fiancee. Or perhaps he won't. She wears his ring, after all. Regardless, right now, he's a little too drunk and a little too distracted to think of anyone who isn't in this room. Instead, he focuses his attention on the far too many buttons that close her robes, and then the far too many buttons that close the equally black top beneath.

"You always have too many clothes on, Bellatrix," he says, and because he knows her and knows her well, he tugs sharply on her hair, forcing her hair back with just a bit of a burn. His teeth scrape against the pulse in her throat as her robes float to his floor.

[scinlac]

"It is called propriety, Lucius," a paradox statement that just about loses all of its arrogant force when it is partially gasped; he does know her very well indeed. She puts up just enough of a fight to make it worthwhile when he forces her head back, and then bares her throat, eternally grateful for the power of concealing charms. Stepping out of her clothes unseeing means doing an even greater number on personal distance, and she slides her hands up to his shoulders so his robes may follow suit.

"But you are entirely lost to polite society tonight, aren't you?" Teasing comes easier than haughtiness, and she shifts just enough to press her thigh against his crotch, bless the fact that she hasn't bothered to rid herself of the heel height advantage just yet.

[malificence]

His teeth first merely scrape against her skin, but he rewards that arch haughtiness with the kind of sharp bite that will be red, even blue the next morning. Then he leans back, his hand tight in her hair until he needs to let go in order for his dark robes to fall to the floor. Too impatient for anything else, he unlaces his boots with a wordless point of his fingers and steps out of them as her fingers unfasten the smooth buttons on his shirt.

"You know perfectly well, Bella," he says, and it'a a heated purr. "I'm nearly always lost to polite society when you wind me up this much." He doesn't remember the night, of course, the obliviation took care of that, but he's sure they must have wound each other up. "I expect if I had a mother she'd say you're quite ruining me." Desiderata Malfoy has, of course, been dead since he was thirteen, and even before that...had mostly left the rearing of the Malfoy heir to Abraxas. But he could pretend that she'd be concerned.

Not that his mother is first in his mind, not when Bella has her thigh grinding up against him. Lucius' gray eyes go nearly black with lust, and he drops his hand to her other leg, hiking it up to hook around his hip as he again uses magic to dispense with the rest of the fabric between them. "Tell me," he says, placing another sharp, hard bite along her jaw. "How do you want me tonight, darling?"