The Dark Lady and her twisted troubles

The Knight of many beginnings: Part II

Hey everyone! I'm just really glad i stuck to my deadline. I'm sure i said something about posting in a few days, and here you have it :D

By the way, you now know who 'he' is.

Comment, vote, fan :) you know what to do

--TheDarkLady

Severus went around the hall surveying the tall French windows and the immaculate landscape outside. An edge of white and he rolled his eyes knowing he just saw the white peacock that often graced the grounds.

Near the gates he could see a few of the Dark Lord’s men, disposable and incapable of sane thought, he thought he saw Greyback’s hulking frame jostling around the well manicured bushes and Snape smirked to himself.

Within seconds the seemingly innocent bush attacked the horrendous werewolf, even the foliage knew Greyback was not welcome tonight and promptly kicked him out.

Satisfied, Severus turned around and Narcissa stood with a smug quirk of her lips, offering him Dom Perignon.

He took it and cautiously his intelligent eyes sought out trouble and found it in its genesis in the form of Draco Malfoy.

He knew that within a matter of minutes everything could erupt into chaos no matter how extensive the security was or how guarded the spies present were, including Severus.

Noticing that the young slytherin was making his way towards them, he quickly quipped, “I suggest you keep an eye on your son. Your guest has arrived.”

Narcissa seemed unaffected and merely curved a pale eyebrow when history repeated itself, and with equal splendor as before, the grand doors opened and there stood a curiously lone wizard.

Comprehension near comical dawned on Narcissa, impassive as ever Severus stood next to the hostess and her son. And the son deep in concentration, trying to show his dominance and masculinity puffed out his chest and under his handsome robes flexed his enviable muscles. But seemingly to no avail, poor Draco.

He strode as though unaware of the appraisals and narrowed-eyed looks he was receiving. And with a single minded determination, the lone wizard walked silently, his dark piercing eyes fixed on the two figures in the two thrones.

A beautiful creature sat next to the frightening. Both dressed at odds. When he got closer he switched his gaze to the former and felt an odd constriction at his throat.

The snake-like creature spoke confidently into the air and the sublime blinked her heavily lashed eyes and descended from her throne with such pristine grace, he was at once reminded of home.

He felt a smirk tug at his lips as he noticed the witch was moving in his direction.

She was almost at once smothered with attention and questions alike, and with a clever wit she answered and excused herself.

But as she turned around Ivory found herself face-to-face with a handsome wizard whom she’d never seen before.

“My lady,” he said innocuously, delicately holding her fingers and brushed his lips ever so slightly against her knuckles.

Ivory struggled but the delicate flush won out, she sucked in a deep breath as she took in the charismatic wizard in front of her.

Violet eyes glittered, deep set and slanted. Thick lashes fanned out on high aristocratic cheekbones finely sculpted. Sumptuous lips, quirked, as he appraised her as well.

Raven hair, just as silky looking and glossy as hers looked naturally unkempt in the most charming way, and yet so polished at the same time.

And his voice, that was what rendered her speechless. Ivory wondered how to even begin to try to describe the raw sensuality and simultaneous comfort it offered.

It was like warm water cascading and at the same time enveloping the rocky bed it traveled. The relief of cool water sliding down your throat after being parched, quenching ones thirst after years in the desert. Like honey drizzling off a spoon. Like making love for the first time.

She shivered slightly, and managed to regain her composure.

“I believe we haven’t met.” She said her voice regaining its silvery quality, equally low and rich.

“No I believe we haven’t.” He added softly, his eyes were arresting, she felt rooted to the spot.

“My ‘father’ apologizes that he might not be able to converse with you to the extent of which you both considered earlier.”

He let go of her hand and half smiled, “No matter, seeing as how I will be staying at the illustrious Manor—that reminds me I must speak to our lovely hostess Narcissa.”

Ivory opened her mouth to say something but was cut across instead.

“Would you like to dance?” He asked, his eyes which seemed dark earlier, looked darker still.

She looked around and to her astonishment realized that the majority were dancing. Through the haze of clinking glass, high cold voices conversing, or rather boasting, a string quartet had taken up the forefront of the hall.

She smiled coldly and said, “Of course.”

With a smirk on the no-longer-lone wizard’s part, he took her hand once again, and with a delicate tug, twirled her and let the diaphanous material swirl about, and the small train of her dress gather on the floor.

His hands, she noticed were quite big and masculine just like the rest of him. One enveloped hers, and the other around her thin waist.

She also observed how tall he was, her head just below his shoulder. Broad thick shoulders, led to a larger and stronger frame than the toothpicks she chanced upon regularly.

A surprisingly thin waist, underneath his robes, he wore a tuxedo she noticed astonished once again.

Her small hand clasped in his, and one on his chest. Their eyes were locked and questions swarmed in her head.

He looked quite calculating as well, she observed.

“So, you’re not a death eater.” She stated, her eyes unwavering from his.

He shook his head, those enigmatic glittering eyes dancing in amusement.

“You come from money, dress impeccably well. A good understanding of social propriety.” She said not allowing him to speak, she realized that their dance had slowed and they were connected, eyes first. Their heads bent dangerously close.

“As do you, my Lady.” He replied  with that knee-buckling voice of his, so sexy.

“You’re going to cause a riot.” He took notice of how her voice dropped to a rich low whisper.

“You’re a glutton for trouble.” He retorted, his voice too lowered, and he drew her closer.

Her eyelids fluttered and she gasped when she felt his lips press gently against her temple.

Trouble did he beckon? Well, he asked for it.