cribellate | SERAPHIM DIAS

[He looks down at the lighter, his nose wrinkled a little.]

Wouldn't carry it around with me if I didn't. Though I like tarnishing that purity every now and then. Obviously.

[She's key to that tarnishing--it's an insult, maybe, and he doesn't pretend otherwise.]

I s'ppose that bothers you.

Should it?

[She takes another breath of her cigarette]

You had your fingers up my cunt either way, didn't you?

[She purposely uses the vulgarity, because maybe it breaks some of the tension, maybe it's to remind herself.]

I never dreamed of a pretty picturesque marriage with you, don't worry.

[It breaks the tension, and it's hot, as well, in its way, a little touch of the dirtiness that he witnessed firsthand. He smirks, a little, taking a drag on his cigarette as well.]

Wasn't a great deal pure about that, that's true.

[But the way he eyes her, the way he smirks around his cigarette--that's enough to say that it was an impurity he didn't mind. Appreciated. Liked, even.]

Does this count as me finding you again, I wonder?

[She laughs, then, and pushes his cigarette away from his face, holding her own slightly back, to press their mouths together.]

Does it?

[She pulls back and there's a grin, and that's when she gets covered in mud and lake water, and the smile from her face drops. She looks like she's about to scream, as she looks around, because what happened, it wasn't him, his hand wasn't on his wand-

And she sees them, at the top of the hill, a gaggle of girls, Slytherins - there's the Greengrass girl, and she thinks that's a Bulstrode but mud drips over her face before she can make it out.

But it's cold and she's gasping for air and reaching for her wand-]

[But Sirius is faster. He whips his gaze around as soon as the mud hits Sera--and he's on his feet, his wand out--

And he'll regret this later, probably, because later they're going to ask why he'd defended a mudblood, why he'd bothered, why he hadn't laughed--slumming it is all right, but you don't forget where you come from and who you are, no matter what--

But Sirius' temper is up, and he flicks his wand at them. He's clever, so even from a distance, the spell takes: mud, if they want mud, they've got it, up to their collective ankles, sloppy and black and sucking at their stockings.]

Looking good, girls!

[She gets up and grabs his hand, and they're giving out cries of shock, because there's mud everywhere, and she's pulling him. One of them is screaming his name, but Seraphim isn't sure if it's a vow of revenge or a plea for mercy]

Come on-

[It's not running away, not really, she has her bag in one hand and it's covered, but she'll deal with that (mud all over her schoolthings, she pales to think of mud all over her homework, she's a Ravenclaw at heart), and mutters a nasty little hex as they pass the girls working to get out of the mud.

Their hair - turns a particularly nasty shade of gray, and their skin grows boils, but they won't notice it until they're back and they've showered.]

You didn't have to, I could have-

[She's dripping mud on him too, but that's all right.]

They'll tell your brother-

[Someone will tell her brother, that's even worse, she thinks.]

Come on!

[She's leading them back into the castle, tracking mud everywhere, but she doesn't care, and Sirius, he'll have to put up with it because she's not letting go of his hand.]

Edited 2013-10-28 16:28 (UTC)

[He doesn't see her hexwork--they pass by too quickly, and it's too subtly done--but when he hears about it later, he's going to laugh, because it's funny. No matter who worked the spell, it's funny, and those girls deserved it. Girls, by and large, deserve a great deal, especially these ones--gossipy and small minded and boring, boring, and that's their greatest flaw. They're about as interesting as bowtruckles; their only saving grace are their names and their appearances.]

Like I care what my brother thinks--

[Regulus is irritating, for all that Sirius is grudgingly fond of him. But it's not Regulus he really ought to worry about in this, it's what Regulus will do with the information, unless Sirius can shut him up and stop him from writing home. There's slumming and then there's defending a mudblood from his peers, and of the two of them, the first is tolerated and disliked, while the second would be tantamount to treason.]

This way.

[He tugs at her hand instead, reversing their direction--they're in the castle, but he's got a different destination in mind than wherever she's leading them. Their palms squelch together as they run--a mudblood covered in mud, covering him in mud too. It's kind of appropriate.]

[Seraphim follows, then, for the first time he's leading and she's following, and she's all right with that.]

I'm hardly afraid of what your brother will think of you as much as what he might say-

[She begins, but then, well. She's trailing behind him, dripping mud everywhere, and she knows that at some point Filch will see and curse and then threaten students with the thumbscrews again, but it doesn't matter.]

I think being afraid of Regulus at all is unnecessary.

[It's bravado talking, because Regulus could ruin everything, and probably will. That's just how he is. He won't even do it with malice, not necessarily, it will just happen, and he'll apologise, but say you're better off--

Sirius scowls a little, and tugs at her hand impatiently, stepping up his pace. They're in a disused corridor now, empty classrooms--it dead-ends just ahead, in a large statute of a warty wizard. Sirius strides up to him and kicks along the bottom of his wide plinth--there's a grating sound, and a panel in the stone wall slides open, just behind the statute. A secret room.]

Ladies first.

[She didn't know about this one - she knows about some of them, but Hogwarts has secrets, and she can't claim to know even a small fraction. She steps inside and sets her bag down]

And here I was going to take you to the showers.

We're going there right now. Prefect's bathroom. Better to take the back way, for now. Filch is going to be out for blood once he sees that mud.

[There's fun in getting detentions, yeah, in being so fucking audacious about it that you just don't even care--but there's fun in avoiding them as well, and that's the sort of fun Sirius is out for right now. You can't fool around in detention--or, well, you can, but better to be certain that today's opportunity with Sera is the one that he wants.]

Merlin. You're a mess.

[She's slipping her cloak off, and her scarf. They're heavy and wet and she takes her wands and casts a handy little carrying spell for them and her bag, until she can get them back up to the Ravenclaw tower to get cleaned.

(There's a parchment cleaning one, someone up there has it, she thinks, they'll help her fix it.)]

If I get a detention because of those girls, I'll cover them in so many boils and pustules and warts they'll never get a date again, you mark that. I'll turn Greengrass into a bloody pig if I have to.

[Her uniform is wet and parts are muddy but she doesn't look quite as horrible without the drenched outer stuff on - except for the mud in her hair and on her face]

You'll clean me up, though, won't you?

[He laughs at that string of threats, and--even in the murky semidarkness of the secret passage--reaches out to push his thumb over her cheek, a surprisingly gentle touch. It smudges off some of the mud as well.]

That sounds hot. Can I watch?

[A little off her other cheek as well, and he leans down to brush his mouth against hers--barely, just barely a kiss--]

I can't promise you'll be very clean when I'm done with you. But you'll be less muddy, anyways. All right with that?

You can watch whatever you like, where I'm involved.

[And isn't that teasing. There's mud over her mouth, so she's a bit glad he's not kissing her more than that, but the tease makes her breath catch just a bit.]

I'll settle for not muddy, yes. You have to promise me one thing.

[She gives a quick little smile]

You have to help undress me.

[He's going to take advantage of that declaration. Whatever he likes, whenever she's involved--that's the sort of thing that inspires a little shortness of his breath. Couple that with the request she makes of him, and he could very well push her up against the wall right now--

But he doesn't. He shifts his hands down, to grip at her hips, tugging her a little closer.]

Do I get to use my hands, or do I have to try for teeth?

Well let's go for hands, today, I'm covered in lakewater and mud and it's bad enough the entire school will know within the hour, let's not add killing Sirius Black with some kind of lake parasite to my list of sins.

[She brushes just against him, and it's damp, all her clothes are damp.]

Teeth will be for the day you can catch me in my bed.

Edited (mici stop abusing commas or they'll be taken away from you) 2013-10-29 21:45 (UTC)

[He grins, when she leans in a little closer--even the slight press of her body, damp as it is--even that's enough to get a shiver out of him, eager and anticipatory, and he grabs onto her--one hand at her hand, one at her hip, keeping her where she is.]

Hands it is, then.

[He lingers there, a moment, but it's going to be better when he gets her to the bathroom, so--reluctantly, he steps away, his hand still holding hers.]

Come on.

[She follows him down the dusty hall, and when they come to the door she waits as he opens it, and steps out into the light. It's early enough no one is here, no one is likely to be here for a while. Her bundle of muddy and wet things lands with a plop on the floor, and she looks down at her clothes. They're sticking to her skin in places, the white of her shirt vaguely see-through.]

I don't even want to know what my hair looks like.

[Muddy and stringy, that's how.]

[He's hardly looking at her hair, given the nearly translucent nature of her shirt--when she calls attention to it, Sirius spares it a brief glance, but only in passing.]

Does it matter?

[No, it does not, is the answer there, and he steps in closer again to brush his fingers against the collar of her shirt--along the edge, to that top button.]

Supposing if you don't care.

[She lifts her head a bit, and even under the mud she looks satisfied, pleased about it.]

Frankly, maybe you deserve a bit of a reward.

[She considers him a longer moment, her fingers brushing against his, just a little]

S'ppose I don't care. And s'ppose I'd appreciate a reward. You might be hexing them later, and well done you--but I've already got it started for you. That's got to be worth something.

[He twists his fingers a little, his eyes still on hers. The top button comes loose, twisting out of its hole, and he skims down to the second, twisting that one open as well.]

You did. Defending me valiantly, and everything.

[Her fingers fiddle a bit with the cloth of his shirt, but don't do anything else. Just get mud on there.]

You're getting sex either way, so don't waste it asking for that. Tell me, instead, what you'd like.

[Waste it. She says it all so firmly, and matter-of-factly--he should snap at her for smearing mud on him, but what does it matter? If he's going to get a little dirty here, he might as well actually be dirty.

Another button, and then another, and he lets his left hand continue in that, all the way down the other buttons. His right hand he slips into her shirt, uses it to ease the sleeve off of her shoulder.]

Well, I want your clothes off, first. And then I want you in that bath.

[He could yell at her for getting mud on him and she would rub it on his skin, just for that. But now she's moving a bit, undoing her cuffs, getting her shirt off her other shoulder. Her bra is only slightly dirty, but damp, her nipples raised from the cold.]

That's easily done, isn't it?

[She toes her shoes off and steps out of them, then unzips her skirt but doesn't pull it over her hips, not yet.]

Edited 2013-11-01 14:31 (UTC)

I s'ppose it is. But aren't you going to say 'and then what'?

[He keeps his smirk, even if his eyes keep flicking down to get as good a look at her as he can. He could always step back, of course, but that would mean stepping away from her--and he likes where he is, this close, close enough that he can slip his hands up--one to push down one bra strap, over her shoulder; the other to push against her breast, just a little, a light pressure--]

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