#puqfaced

percy cannot see her face.  he stares at the ceiling in the darkness of her bedroom.  this started happening  --  because of course it did.  ( percy cannot look audrey in the face any longer.  she must know something is wrong. )  he can feel pancy beside him;  she faces away, but the warmth of her back presses into his side.  he reaches to brush slender fingers across her skin.  percy shifts to spoon her, nudging his nose into her neck.  “how do you know what i want?” he asks quietly, lips brushing against her as he speaks.  “what makes you think i don’t want you?  are we not here now?  even though we know we shouldn’t be?  is that not desire, pansy?”  he squeezes her to him.  “do you really believe i do not desire you?” 

                            there  wasn’t  at  all  many  people  that  narcissa  came  to  bestow  that  of  GENUINE  sentiment  'pon.  no,  for  she’d  found  that  many  were  simply  BENEATH  her,  a  waste  of  time  &&  not  worth  the  energy  she  expended  even  glancing  in  their  direction.  however,  she’d  always  come  to  be  particularly  fond  of  the  young  woman  currently  stood  before  her.  for  she  had  always  been  there  for  her  son,  friends  for  as  long  as  narcissa  could  remember,  looking  out  for  him  when  she,  herself  couldn't.  &&  that  was  a  notion  in  which  the  matriarch  would  forever  be  GRATEFUL  for.  &&  whilst  there  were  many  others  in  which  she’d  come  to  highly  DISAPPROVE  of,  pansy  had  never  come  to  be  one  of  them,  &&  the  blonde  could  only  come  to  hope  that  she  NEVER  would  be.  albeit,  it  was  with  hands  clasped  lightly  before  her  that  of  a  SOFTER  smile  came  to  grace  her  countenance,  on  that  many  had  never  been  privy  to. for  whilst  most  found  her  presence  intimidating,  it  was  merely  a  REASSURANCE  that  the  younger  witch  really  had  little  need  to  do  so.

                             ❝  miss  parkinson,  what  a  PLEASANT  surprise,  ❞  &&  it  was  HAUGHTY  tones  that  fled  painted  lips,  however,  they  were  far  less  clipped,  less  harsh  than  many  around  her  were  USED  TO.  &&  whilst it  wasn’t  that  of  a  RARITY  to  see  the  young  woman  within  the  confines  of  the  manor,  narcissa  could  only  come  to  presume  that  it  was  'pon  the  invitation  of  her son  that  the  younger  found  herself  there.  nonetheless,  the  matriarch  was  pleased  to  see  that  of  face  that  she  hadn’t  come  to  ABHOR,  for  there  were  more  than  she'd  come  to  care  for  ROAMING  her  home  as  of  late  &&  needless  to  say,  it  wasn't  something  that  she  came  to  APPRECIATE.

   Pale hands grip at his glass tightly as his body language grows tense. Vulnerability was always difficult for Draco to express. That was news to no one. Exhaling slightly, he closes his eyes as he takes another sip of his drink. The burn of it didn’t manage to calm his nerves as he’d hoped. Silver eyes glance away, taking a sudden new interest in his surroundings.

   Avoiding.