cribellate | SERAPHIM DIAS

[He hears approaching voices, first--a little distant, but not terribly far off--and he perks up, the way a dog might perk up when it hears something interesting approaching. Only then he'd distracted straight after--a weird knocking at the top of his head, and he twists to look behind him first, stupidly, before he thinks to look up.

And there she is, crouched up among the higher beams. He grins, immediately, and drops his cigarette in the dirt, voices forgotten.]

Don't tell me. This doesn't count, either.

You're awful at this.

[She says it, looking over to where her twin is still heading their way.]

Are you going to come up or-

[That's when Grigori sees her or hears her or senses her or whatever and he calls out. Sera, what are you-

And then he spots Black, and she groans]

Go back up Grigori!

[But he's not going, he's just giving Black a look that would kill if it were a spell.]

[He's confused, at first, what the hell is she on about. And then he makes the connection, right, Grigori, her twin--different houses, far more obnoxious--and he glances around, and there he is himself, Grigori, and it clicks together then.

Him. Right. Broken nose. Sirius grins a little, despite himself, and--more for the show--gets out a fresh cigarette, entirely casual.]

All right there, mate? Nose looks good.

[He jerks his head up towards Sera.]

Might want to take the lady's advice.

[She's making her way down the scaffold, and Grigori is looking up at her - if Sirius looks up now he'll get a nice shot up her skirt, red pants and everything - and he just looks over at Black.

You're joking, Seraphim, you're joking, this isn't for real-]

I cannot possibly have all the monopoly on brains-

[And her twin grips her by the arm and drags her a bit, and they're clearly arguing but what they're saying is low and hissing and possibly in an entirely different language (Russian, it's Russian) before she pulls her arm away, and Grigori looks up.

Watch it, Black, he says, scowling, before touching his nose and heading back, and Seraphim turns to Black crosses her arms]

Apparently if I let you touch me I'll turn into an unrepentant slut and go after Snape, next.

[He doesn't miss that little glimpse of her pants--perhaps he was, in part, looking to see if he could see them, sort of, idly, and here he's well rewarded. Red. What an interesting choice.

So he doesn't mind waiting out their argument. He smokes his cigarette, patient, nonchalant, and when Grigori eventually shoves off, Sirius touches his forehead like the nose-touch was a salute that he's just returning.

But he's got a grin for Sera, he's fully prepared for her.]

Does he really think you lack all sense and taste? And maybe you're blind as well--noseless--not sensitive to grease--

[He ashes his cigarette, carelessly.]

Charming, isn't he.

Apparently you are the gateway to awful decisions. But well. Now he knows something, although he doesn't know exactly.

[She looks back to where he was walking, and wonders what he'll tell, who he'll tell, if he'll tell. But she turns back to him.]

Also, he thinks after you there's only one place worse and apparently that's Snape. I suppose he's never seen that man your cousin married, the blonde one-

[Sorry, she's not one for pureblood families, she only knows he exists because she's seen him around.]

Anyway.

You still haven't caught me.

Malfoy.

[He snorts, dismissively.]

You might as well snog a ferret, if Malfoy's a possibility. I can't believe I end up at that end of the spectrum. I take showers, and have a personality. But perhaps your brother's just not observant enough, or otherwise immune to my charms which, thank God.

[But she tacks on that little bit at the end, and that's unfair; he steps closer, in case she's thinking of slipping away again.]

You need to give better clues. Nice pants, by the way.

He's just mad you broke his nose.

Do you want a riddle? A map, perhaps? A list of my favorite hiding places?

[She tilts her head up, and doesn't move away]

Or maybe just some motivation.

[She reaches up her skirt with both hands but keeps her modesty as she takes te aforementioned pants off. They're red and only just modest.]

Do you want them?

[He was all ready to dismiss her first options as too easy--there's hints and then there's outright blatant tells--but then she's shifting around, and this has definitely got his attention now, as if she didn't have it before--

He grins, first, takes a moment just to look at her--at her hand, first, at the pants--at her hips, still hidden under that skirt, but that's it, just a skirt and then her, and Merlin, but that's something. And then he takes her hand, pants and all. They're warm, he can feel that. Right from her.]

Where have you been all my life.

[Muggleborn, that's where. Dirty blood. It's really a shame, but that doesn't stop him from having a good time with her, does it. In fact it almost makes it better. Ultimate slumming.]

[She lets him, doesn't pull away even if she could, quirks her lips up. Most people don't see this side of her, this slightly cunning, daresay Slytherin part of her personality.]

Russia. Paris. Oxford. In the sewer getting all filthy and dirty-blooded, just for you.

[Just for him indeed. She's not a slut, no matter what her brother thinks.]

Really for me?

[He steps in just a little closer, his eyes flicking hungrily over her face, taking in the wicked little curve of that smirky smile. God, he wants to kiss her, and more--start with a kiss, though, and he slips his free hand up to touch it against her cheek, gently--]

[She doesn't move, just looks up at him, and licks her upper lip quickly, just once.]

Who else do you think I'm doing this with? Who else would I bother with?

[She says it and realizes a moment later that maybe that's too close, too much of his ego can read into that-]

Suffice to say, Black, that this may not be the exact first time, but it's the first time anyone's actually tried beyond just making a show of it.

[She's had boys try and play this game before but they've all failed - they thought she was kidding, joking. One, or two. Not many. And they wouldn't ever talk about it, it's embarrassing to lose to her, she thinks.]

That's because everyone else in this school is pathetic.

[A grin tugs at the corners of his mouth, quick, a little dark. There's something in the way that she licks at her lip, just a little, something that makes his skin prickle, makes him want to lean forward and kiss her. He could. He's that close. He might, still. Not yet.]

And I'm not. And neither are you, I'm thinking.

[Except for her blood. But that goes without saying--and adds an unsavory dirty quality to this that acts as an enhancement, in this case. He leans in then, just a little, enough so that their mouths are so close to touching, one breath away, and he's stepped in again, a little nearer, so close he can feel the heat from her body, so close he's nearly got her backed up against one of the support beams.]

And I don't intend to fail. Next time, I'll catch you at it.

[She moves one leg, so she's almost straddling one of his, almost, so if he nudged his leg up just a bit it would be between hers, and just doesn't kiss him, although she could, although a part of her kind of wants to, she's saving that.]

How kind of you to say, Lord Black.

[Her mouth is just open for a moment, and then she moves her head, so she's speaking at his ear.]

You'd better. I'm starting to get lonely, a girl and just her fingers, you can't expect me to be satisfied just thinking of your cock for long.

[And that is pure teasing, but she looks absolutely satisfied when she presses back against the beam. She slips her pants into his back pocket, and raises her other hand to press a finger against her lips, halfway looking between like she's saying shush, or just thinking about it.]

[There's an edge to his grin, there's something in it, sharp and needy--God, he wants her now, right now, that little smirk of hers, the way her finger looks against her lips and her hand in his pocket--only for a moment, but enough. Girls don't talk like this. He's always going after them, and this is no different--the game is built on him going after her--but that wicked look on her face, and the curl of her voice against his ear--it's dirty, and it's perfect, it's what he wants.

And it would ruin it, to kiss her right now, even if he wants to. He'd not be able to stop at a kiss anyways, not the way she's got him feeling.

And he's determined, now, to catch her, to claim his reward. Anyone that teases the way she does is worth it, worth so much more, dirty blood and all. Maybe it's her blood that makes her the way that she is--but whatever the reason, he can't get her out of his head over the next few days, a fact that he loves as much as he resents. No muggle-born girl should be able to do this to him: but she does, and he sneaks out every night to wander the halls, checking behind tapestries, listening for her. His lack of caution makes him brazen in his rule-breaking. Filch be damned, this is important. He is going to find her.]

[and the fact is he has to wait a few days, because she doesn't come out for a while. She wants to make him crazy, drive up the anticipation. It's almost a week later when she flashes him a smile after Charms and goes out the door that she decides to stay out that night. She's watching a pair of Gryffindors this time, just near the astronomy tower in a deserted corridor behind the statue of an extremely ugly witch. She's barely paying attention to anything else.]

[It's the smile that's the thing that drives him maddest of all. Yeah, the thought of her out there somewhere, getting herself off, watching other people going at it--that's maddening, that's awful, that's most of what keeps him looking. But when she looks at him during the day and smiles like that, it's like a jolt of that same energy--but during the day, around everyone else, and then he's just got to go to class and pretend as if it doesn't matter.

He's cleverer about it now. He knows something more of her, he knows what to listen for and where to look, and there's a whisper as he's passing by the astronomy tower--he's quieter than he was his first time out, it's not a whisper meant for him but one that he knows well, in tone and implication if not voice--and then he sees her.

It seems unreal, at first, that he'd have found any success. But there she is, and Merlin, but there's a sense of satisfaction from finding her at all, let alone what's going to come after.

He walks until he's just behind her, also hidden behind that witch, safe from the couple.]

Fancy meeting you here.

[She jumps, because he actually surprises her. She turns her head to look over and presses her fingers over her lips, like she's shushing him. Whoever they are, she can't quite see, but she reaches for Sirius (funny, she's thinking about him by his first name) to take his hands. Her fingers are just-]

Finally a point for you.

[ She whispers it, but the other couple, they're not looking. There is something dark in her voice, a tone that hasn't been there before.]

[He grins, vaguely. Her fingers. He can still remember the press of them that first time he'd stumbled upon her, the heat of them, in his mouth--and just now, when she'd pressed them to his lips--and he twists his hands so he can grip back at her.]

Finally. Who are your friends?

[He doesn't look away from her, even though he's asking about them. They're not really that interesting. Whatever they're doing is tame, compared to this. He's done it. He's got her now, finally.]

Do you really care?

[She pushes against him, body to body, bites her lower lip.]

I don't know. I've been watching, all I can catch is the color of their patches, but not their faces.

Gryffindors.

[He noticed that as well; he flicks his eyes up to her face. They're standing so close to one another that he can hardly see all of her, just a little glimpse of eyes, and he narrows his, with a little grin, as he leans down. Even closer now, their mouths nearly touching--]

Idiots. They've no idea on how not to be caught. You're far cleverer. Elusive.

[His hand on her hip, his fingers gripping just a little, tugging her forward.]

Still able to be caught.

[She can't help but focus on his eyes, at least for a moment, on that bright gray that even in the dark she can make out, her body flush against him]

I think you like it, knowing that catching me is hard, and managing to do it anyway.

[She tangles her fingers in his, but it's not a tender, romantic gesture. Instead she brings it down to her inner thigh, a few inches above her knee, and starts to raise her skirt with his hand]

I think it's all the better for you've earned it.

[There's no arguing or resisting that guidance--if anything, he's eager for it, and pushes his fingers up a little faster, pushing against her grip and tracing up along the inside her thigh, up and up. His breath is already a little short, but that can't be helped, that's down to the tone of her voice and the close press of her body and where his hand is, well beneath her skirt now--]

And have I earned it, miss?

Now I hardly think you really want to give me the power to say no again.

[But then she kisses him, and it's hardly a kiss that says no.

She pushes his fingers right up to her underwear, not hard, but then she moves her fingers away from his and the catch of her breath tells his exactly where they went.]

[As if she'd say no, right now. But he doesn't say that aloud, he doesn't want to challenge her to prove him wrong. Instead, he lets his fingers linger where they are--a little more breathless still--and his eyes study her face, quickly, as he listens to the sharpness of her breath--and then he slips his fingers up, following hers, with the intent to replace hers--]

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but now i can't tag this thread at work weeps