cribellate | SERAPHIM DIAS

[He greets the couple with a wolf-whistle as he comes around the corner, leans against the wall with his arms folded.]

Evening.

[And he grins, and the girl--sixth year, Slytherin, youngest Mulciber daughter, it's all information that comes to mind quickly--her face colour even in the dark of the corner.

I don't sleep, Sera had said. So the best place to look for her is after hours, in places he wouldn't expect her to be. Ravenclaws and the library are a match made in heaven, but that would be too easy, too obvious--and she's sneakier than other Ravenclaws. There's an edge to her. But that doesn't mean he can't have a bit of fun as he's looking.]

Shouldn't you be-- elsewhere?

[It's none of your business, Mulciber tells him, her face still pink, and she seizes her boyfriend by the hand and goes to drag him off.]

A Hufflepuff? Where's your taste?

[Fuck off, Black, she informs him, sharply, as they scramble to push past him, the lucky (unlucky?) Hufflepuff straightening out his rumbled jumper as they go. Sirius grins.]

At least try Ravenclaw--at least they're good for a laugh--

[Fuck off! Mulciber repeats, heatedly, throwing him a glare. The Ravenclaw comment wasn't even for her benefit, it's just that Sirius has had a certain Ravenclaw in mind, lately--but he laughs all the same.]

[She freezes when she hears his voice, then carefully sets her feet on the ground, and crouches low, to peer just underneath, one hand curled towards her body, the other flat on the ground. From where she was she had a view of the girl - Mulciber, now she knows who it is, which makes the bits and snatches she overheard even more interesting - but not of Black, where did he come from?

She knows the tapestry probably moves, just a bit, and she wonders if Black is observant enough to catch the movement. She's not sure if she wants him to or not. Mulciber and - Stone, that's the boy's name, he's some sixth year, Seraphim doesn't know him but she knows about him - are stomping off so loudly they'll get caught further down the hall for sure.]

[Mulciber and her Hufflepuff boy are already halfway down the corridor, but Sirius hangs back in this dark bit. They're going to be discovered for sure, and he's not about to get caught up with them.

He sticks his hands in his pockets, fumbling for his lighter--and then, there, he just catches the motion of that tapestry. If he suspects that it's Sera--well, maybe some small bit of him suspects. But it could be anyone, or knowing Hogwarts, anything, right?

Still....]

Hey.

[She lifts the bottom of the tapestry with one hand and looks up at him. He's already taller than her, this is quite an advantage.]

You spoiled the show.

[But she's smiling a bit, working her way out from under. She's wearing a blouse and a skirt but no tie and no robes, and no shoes.]

[His suspicions were correct: it's her, and he grins, proud of himself (as inadvertent a discovery as this was).]

I know Mulciber. Wouldn't have been much of a show.

[And, he adds, with a smirk now:] Hullo. One point for me.

Better than anything I've seen in the past few days, everyone is so focused on exams lately.

[She stands up, wipes the hand that was curled up to her chest off on her skirt.]

Hullo, Black. Point for you. What were you doing, I wonder, wandering the halls without a prefect's badge?

I could show you better.

[It's something of an idle promise, but the way he says it makes it less than idle, far more loaded with suggestiveness. So is his grin, as he cocks his head at her.]

I wonder what I was doing though, hm. Certainly couldn't have been looking for anyone.

Could you?

[She moves forward a bit, and grips his wrist. There's wetness on her fingers, it's almost a challenge, to see if he'll react, if he's all talk, or if he'll do something beyond pull away.]

Maybe a Ravenclaw? Loads better than Hufflepuffs, we actually have personalities. Well.

Some of us.

[Oh, he notices. When she grabs his wrist, he notices, and then he makes that connection, and looks up at her face, searching it closely, with a sharp little grin. She wasn't.

No, she was. He twists his hand so he's got her wrist instead, tugging her hand up a bit.]

Some of you do. I've seen that firsthand. Very unexpected personalities.

[He ducks his head a little, grinning, and--her hand is really close, so it's nothing, to just--lick at the top of her fingers, right at her fingertips, with a grin.]

I like the unexpected.

[She tilts her head up, defiant, her eyes darkening a bit when he licks her fingers. The hall is quiet and dark but there's enough light to see each other, and she can see the contours of his smile, that dangerous look.]

Maybe you have a cleaner mind than I do, if you weren't expecting that.

[She's thinking fast, trying to decide if she's going to make this easy for him or hard for him, if she's going to make him work for it.

She's trying to decide exactly what it is she wants.]

What would the rest of your house say, to see my fingers on your tongue?

Why are you thinking about the rest of my house?

[It's a kiss for two of her fingers this time--middle, and index--a lingering kiss with a little more tongue, and then he follows along her index finger, nipping lightly at it--presses a kiss down in the curve, where thumb and finger meet, lingers there, too--]

And how can I make you stop thinking about them?

That is the question, isn't it?

[She lets him kiss her hand, lets him have that.]

Did you really catch me, though?

[Ah, make your case, Black, because she's curling her hands up, her smile is turning wicked and thorny-]

[There's something in her tone that suggests that he has to act, now--something in whatever he can see of her smile, half lost in shadows--but he can act, he can, and he lets her hand go so he can take hold of her hips, so he can step in close to her, pushing her up against the wall, against that tapestry that she was just hiding behind.]

I think I have.

[He's leaning into her, insistently, grinning down at her. Pinning her to the wall--not cruelly, but holding her there.]

I'll grant you a taste from my fingers, but I think you'll have to wait until you find me in the act, I think those were the words, before I give you more than that, don't you?

[She knows he'll disagree, but this is part of the game too, the catch, the pull and push. But she's pinned to the wall and she's not squirming away, not yet.]

I'd hate for this to be too easy.

You'll grant it to me?

[He repeats her, somewhat incredulously, and the lift in his voice could turn sour at any moment. Do you know who you're talking to?]

I'm not denied things that I want. And I don't wait for people to grant things to me. What makes you think you're the exception to that?

[His words are a little sharp, but he's still smirking, and he lets one hand--the right one--slip up a little, release its grip on her hip and push up at her side.]

Perhaps I don't want to wait.

[Her expression changes, but only a bit. There's no fear in it, and she's not sure why. Usually she would be terrified of something like this, except for some reason today she's not, today she's ready to go at this from his level.]

For me, you'll wait.

[There's no magic, she just uses leverage - she hasn't got much of it but her gift with numbers isn't for naught, she knows exactly how to apply her body weight, just enough to give her space between them and slip out from under him]

You'll follow the rules to the letter. Catch me in the act, Black. I assume I'll see you at the Ravenclaw-Hufflepuff game next week.

[She winds out and down the hall, and she's back to prim, as if nothing ever happened, before she disappears down the corridor]

Edited 2013-10-15 15:18 (UTC)

[Well, that's not fair at all. He considers going after her, for a moment--but that would ruin the spirit of the game, wouldn't it? Half the fun is in the chase and the pursuit, and the thought of catching her, at a quidditch game--

Merlin. All right. So that's hot, so--he makes the choice not to follow her, though he absolutely could, if he wanted to. Instead he stares after her as she slips away, a faint grin on his face.

Yeah. This game is good.

Next week is a long time to wait, but it will be worth it. The whole school turns out for the game, practically, and Sirius trails to the stands with everyone else. Usually he's with the others, catcalling and heckling, jeering at the Hufflepuff players--but this time, he only follows along until he can lose himself in the crowds, and then slips away. There are over a dozen stairways, hundreds of secret little places where she could be. She won't be near the Ravenclaw stands. That would be too obvious. So he starts at the other end, towards the Hufflepuff goal posts. The air is cool and brisk, the sky overcast, and the beams of the stands casts shadows everywhere.]

[Seraphim really likes Quidditch, it's something she went for the moment she learned about. She tried for the team, almost made it, too.

She doesn't like to watch her own team from the stands with the others because of it, so she generally climbs up under the Gryffindor stands, to one of the platforms under the main seats, about twenty feet up but still thirty feet or so down. There are two ways up to where she likes to sit, watching the game from where the drapes that hide the scaffolding occasionally part, and one of them is climbing, which is how she makes her way up, not having a broom.

She sees him down near by the posts and gets on her knees to try and get a better glimpse. It draws her attention down - Gryffindors always congregate down on the ground under the stands for mischief. Sirius, she reckons, has about ten minutes before they get bored enough to come down looking for trouble.]

[Gryffindors. Sirius can hear them before he sees them. His disdain for them is half disgust and half irritation, and zero parts jealousy. Ages ago, he had, maybe, thought differently, but now--well, he's older now, and he's got more sense.

Enemy territory is no place to stop for a smoke, but like he cares about Gryffindors. They're never a threat, not to him--he's got a load of cleverness and more on his side, and a certain degree of mad, ruthless defensiveness that can't be forgotten. So he leans against one of the posts, quite casually, and gets out his cigarettes. In a moment, he'll shove off and keep looking. The game's only just begun--the quidditch game, yeah, but more what he means is the game with Seraphim Dias, wherever she is.

In fact, he glances around right now, in case she's somewhereabouts.]

[She looks down just as he's looking around, and she sees - for Merlin's sake, Grigori, that's Grigori and his group of whoever it is that follow him around, half the bloody Quidditch team, how fantastic. This is a disaster waiting to happen, her twin has been chomping at the bit ever since Black broke his nose, and so she takes her wand from her pocket and uses a quick little charm to knock on the top of Black's head, knock knock, look up.]

Hell.

[Grigori doesn't see him yet, this could end not quite so badly-]

[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.

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