May 18th, 1888 — Hogsmeade Hall during this event

All you think of lately is getting underneath me
All I dream of lately is how to get you underneath me
Tiberius would not have been inclined to have attended a fashion show of his own volition, nor would he have taken his wife for the sort to do so. Antigone seemed to have unexpectedly come to the conclusion that she cared to be seen out and about as a member of society, however — something she'd never demonstrated any strong feelings about in the past — and had wanted to come. He wasn't so strongly opposed as to deny her the evening, not when she had been behaving herself recently, and so away they had went.

Neither of them had mentioned what had happened the first night they'd shared a bedroom at his uncle's house that Easter, nor had they acknowledged it the following two nights that they slept on opposite sides of the bed. It would be a lie, however, to say that Tiberius hadn't thought of it in the month that followed. He'd danced around the idea of whether he could get it to happen again, but he had no idea how. He didn't really even know how it had happened in the first place, and he couldn't think of any way to bring it up that wouldn't risk injuring his pride should the venture not go according to plan. He could very well remember the last time he'd visited her bedroom with the intention to initiate something, on her birthday, and that had hardly been an experience he wanted to repeat.

As time wore on, however, he'd thought of it more and more, and tonight was no exception. The premise of the fashion show was rather tedious, which gave his mind plenty of time to wander while he sat through it. He kept stealing occasional sideways glances at his wife, wondering if she was as bored as he was, but it was impossible to read her expression behind the mask she'd chosen; some kind of predatory cat he didn't recognize. It reminded him, vaguely, of the conversation they'd had years ago regarding their patronus forms, which she had professed to be a tigress. He'd cast about for a wolf mask, but if one existed in the entrance hall it had already been claimed. An angular fox had seemed the next best thing, though he wasn't sure she would make the connection that he had.

As the runway strutting dragged on, Tiberius' mind turned towards how he might re-initiate an interlude like the one that had occurred over Easter. It became increasingly clear as he turned it over in his mind that he could not start with simply going to her bedroom at night, nor demanding she came to his; that would put all of his cards on the table too soon and leave him at a disadvantage, and his pride vulnerable to attack. Nor was he willing to wait until they were forced to share a bedroom again, which might not happen for some time — if it ever happened at all. Starting some sort of plan now certainly had the drawback of their being in a public place, but that could be turned towards his advantage, he decided; he could say something truly ridiculous, if he was careful, and she wouldn't be able to respond except with something polite and proper, for fear of being overheard by the wrong party.

The show ended and people began to rise and mull about. Tiberius got to his feet immediately and approached Antigone's chair from the back corner. Under the guise of helping her rise by offering his hand, he leaned in and said quietly, "Perhaps I'll visit you tonight and take you from behind, like an animal. I suppose you'd like that, slut?"

He took a step back and increased the distance between them before she could respond, so that she wouldn't be able to use the same low tone he had. His eyes shone triumphantly at having delivered such an unsavory line in the middle of a crowd, unbeknownst to those around him. It was a pity her mask would disguise whether or not he'd been able to make her blush.

  

The highlight of this stupid fashion show thing was that she got to endure it from behind a mask. It was also a small plus that they'd arrived early enough that she could grab one that she actually liked, rather than having to settle for the dregs. If she had to sit through it with the face of an ass she'd be considerably less pleased about it. A white leopard mask was infinitely superior to a donkey or some other farm animal. She saw someone sporting a goose mask and grimaced from beneath her own at the reminder of what all her hard work might lead to. Perhaps she ought to try casting a patronus and see if it was even still a goose, it had been so long since she'd actually seen her patronus that it might very well have changed. The current setting was no place to be casting patronuses, however, so she would have to sit tight for now.

The idea of a fashion show would probably have thrilled her a few years ago but now it seemed incredibly dull. If it hadn't been for Witch Weekly calling her a shut in and then stupid Ligeia rubbing it in her face with that stupid clipping from it, she wouldn't have even thought about going. During her confinement she longed for an active social life but now social events seemed like more effort than they were worth. She could count on one hand the number of people in the world that she could tolerate and now that the days were getting longer, it made performing the animagus enchantment at sunset more challenging than it needed to be. She could hardly do it in the middle of a ballroom and if anyone happened to spot her they might very well figure out what she was up to. If she did end up a goose there was no way in hell she was going to put her name on a damn list next to goose. The last thing she needed was for someone to start spreading rumors.

Possibly the worst part of all was having to go with Tiberius. She wasn't sure if he insisted on coming for the sake of appearances or because he thought she needed to be watched like a child but she didn't care for it. Even the knowledge that he was probably even more exasperated by it all than she was didn't make up for it. She had been avoiding Tiberius as much as possible since Easter and this was very much the opposite of avoiding him. In the end she had to make a choice - prove Witch Weekly right or spend time in Tiberius' company and risk it being worse than the alternative.

So far, at least, it wasn't too terrible and the mask was making it a lot easier. Tig had expected to lament the lack of dancing but now she realized that she was grateful for it, she doubted he would have asked her to dance but stranger things had happened. Stranger things she definitely didn't want to think about now or any time.

Finally it came to an end and in her eagerness to go home, she readily accepted his proffered hand when she would otherwise have tried to avoid it. Tig thought she had achieved the near impossible by not having a terrible evening because of Tiberius, but as soon as she realized this he ruined it with one sentence. Her stomach clenched uncomfortably as she rose to her feet and tried to tell herself he hadn't actually just said what she thought he had just said. What was he doing?! He'd put enough space between them that by the time she found appropriately acidic words, he was out of earshot for muttering. This, she realized, must have been his intention. Now she felt abnormal and wished she'd stayed home. "I need to power my nose." This would only prolong their leaving but maybe if she went away for ten minutes or so she'd return and it would be as if he'd never said anything.

---

| OUTFIT |

  

---

Tiberius smirked victoriously. He might not be able to see much of her face but it was clear from her quick excuse that he had flustered her and set her off her game. He didn't care if she left for the powder room, or anywhere else, for that matter, because now that he'd said it he imagined she could not help but imagine it, no matter where she was going or what she was pretending to occupy herself with.

Antigone had liked it, in the heat of the moment; she had made it obvious at the time and had made no attempt to deny it afterwards. That was a rather useful tool he could use against her, though it had taken him until tonight to realize it. No matter how much he had disrespected her and how harsh his words had been, she had enjoyed the experience. She probably wanted to repeat it as much as he did, but of course she would never admit to it; it would go against everything he knew about his wife for her to degrade herself of her own volition, or even give the appearance that she was willing to do so. He had to take control of the situation as forcibly as possible in order to steer them back to that point — but he thought once Antigone knew the direction they were headed, she would follow without much protest.

"Hurry back," he said, his light words covering sinister undertones. "I'll be waiting."

  

Shit. Now she actually had to go to the power room and he had dashed her hopes that she'd return to the apathetic husband she preferred. Without further hesitation, she headed swiftly for the power room where she intended to loiter and do anything besides powder her nose. It was empty when she arrived. Antigone removed her mask and told herself that the pinkness of her reflected self's cheeks had everything to do with it being warm under the mask and not her husband's strange humor. As pleased as she'd been to find no one else was powdering their nose, it quickly turned into a negative. She couldn't think of a way to avoid confronting the unpleasant tangle of unwelcome thoughts tied up in the events of Easter weekend if he was trying to steer things towards... Was that was he trying to do or was she only wondering it because he'd put the idea of it in her head just to taunt her. Just because he hadn't used what had transpired between them against her yet, didn't mean he wouldn't.

Between the two of them, she had surrendered the most that night. She had lost the most ground. She had exposed vulnerabilities he wasn't ever supposed to find and what could possibly have made her think he wouldn't exploit them? What about his actions that night could she use against him? He was already winning, she was thinking about that night when she had told herself she never would and this was exactly what he wanted. She had to think about something else, anything else, or she'd never be able to leave the power room.

Tig thought of finding an alternate exit from the building and apparating home to avoid him for the remainder of the evening (preferably the rest of her life) but that was probably worse. She couldn't believe he'd take a servant's word that she had returned home and not check that she was where she was supposed to be and then he'd be in her bedroom and that was the last place in the world she wanted him to be. Her time alone in the power room came to an abrupt end but her annoyance at being disturbed was short lived. Of the very few people she could tolerate in the world, it just so happened that it was one of them who walked through the door and gave her an idea.

Ten minutes later, Tig finally left the powder room with her mask back on and renewed confidence in her stride. She'd managed to invite herself to her friend's house later on and it was guaranteed to put her evening back on track. Tiberius would be put out and irritated, hopefully decline to come with and they would go their separate ways and normality would resume. It was a shame they weren't going immediately but the revelation would probably put a stop to his unwanted behavior anyway.

When she spotted him, she was immediately reminded of what he'd said about waiting for her, or rather how he had said it. She felt hot under the mask already, obviously the change in temperature from the cool powder room with no mask was making this room feel even warmer than it had before. As much as she wanted to turn and walk the other way it was too late and she couldn't let him think he'd frightened her off. "I met ___ in the power room. She invited me to her house afterwards, we haven't seen each other in a while and have a great deal to catch up on so I accepted." Tig launched in as soon as she reached him. As an obvious afterthought she added, "I hope you don't mind."

---

| OUTFIT |

  

---

The news he was greeted with upon her return was unexpected, to say the least. He was always rather surprised by the idea of Antigone even having friends, so he had hardly expected one to intrude on his plans for the evening. The idea of going to someone's house was rather odious, but he wasn't going to let her go alone. There was no telling when she might come home if she was left to her own devices, and she could feasibly even opt to spend the night with the other woman — stranger things had happened — which would drag this game of cat-and-mouse that he'd initiated on for days. A little more building of tension before they reached the bedroom probably couldn't hurt, but he certainly didn't have the energy to keep it up indefinitely.

"Of course not," he said with a tight smile. His tone was bland. There was no point in trying to fool her into believing he really meant that when of course she knew better. She had been intending to disappoint him and set him off of his plan for the evening, but he intended to show her he was undeterred. "I've spoken to her husband before at the club. I'm sure I'll be able to occupy myself while you chat."

  

He didn't sound as annoyed as she had hoped but he also sounded a lot less... Whatever he had been before she'd left. It was a shame he was going to come along rather than cut his evening short but maybe that was a good thing, at least a small part of her would wonder if he would be waiting when she returned. Order seemed to have been restored.

"Good." Generally satisfied with the turn of events, she lapsed into a silence that she hoped would last between them for the rest of the evening.

---

| OUTFIT |

  

---

The matter was settled, then, and Antigone didn't seem particularly unsettled by its resolution. He thought it would have been preferable to keep her on her toes, and wracked his brain for a moment on the best way to do so before seizing on the perfect way to be suggestive without being overtly crass: contact. Tiberius reached over and slid his hand around the thin waist of her corset. The gesture was not in and of itself enough to be alarming — married couples stood this close and allowed this level of physical contact in public venues all of the time. For the two of them, however, it was unusual; so much so that he felt rather conspicuous even doing it. He might as well have just thrown her skirts over her head and run his hand up his thigh, as far as public displays of affection were concerned in their marriage.

"Have you been enjoying the evening so far?" he asked in a faux casual tone.

  

She would have happily surrendered her cherished silence if it meant his arm came nowhere near her but that was an option that had never been offered to her and now he was touching her waist. Tig had never liked wearing corsets but for once she was thankful that the thick material and metal at least mostly disguised the sudden tension in her body. Remaining as she had been as if he'd never touched her would be the ideal, he was probably looking for a reaction, but she couldn't help but to tense. Was he trying to mess with her or was he so eager to have his way with her that he no longer cared if it made him look foolish? Tig had a hard time believing it was the latter, but then she also didn't want to believe he would ever be so pathetic. He had to be toying with her.

Then again, he'd placed his hand on her thigh for no reason after they'd... Tig shut her eyes and tried to push that train of thought as far away from her mind as possible, a task not made easier by his invading limb. "It's left me rather parched," came her eventual reply. "I could do with a drink." She wasn't all that thirsty but he'd hopefully go fetch her a drink and thus be forced to remove himself from her.

---

| OUTFIT |

  

---

"Allow me," Tiberius said all too readily. He thought the delay between his question and her response made it clear that the contact had had the desired effect of making her rethink what was happening, and now that it had served its purpose, he didn't have any particular desire to remain loitering by her side with his hand on her waist. Breaking away from her to fetch a drink gave him enough time to contemplate his next move, which was just what he needed.

He wanted her to keep thinking about what he'd said, and more particularly to keep picturing what they'd done before or what he might be intending to do to her again. If only there was a way to plant pictures in her mind without the overt use of magic. The idea of them being together in the same way that they had been last month made her uncomfortable, that much was obvious, and he presumed that the source of her discomfort was that she didn't want to admit (either to him or to herself) how much she'd enjoyed the interaction. He wanted to continue to use her discomfort against her, but couldn't think of a way to do so. It seemed like cheating to use any sort of spell work on her; she'd just be able to claim later that it had been his magic and not her own desires that had lead them back to that point, if his plan was successful.

At least, if she knew about it. If she was unaware... say, if he cast some sort of charm on her champagne, which she then drank...

Unfortunately, he couldn't think of any spell that would allow him such a great degree of control over the effect. He couldn't enchant a glass of champagne to create scenes in her mind, at least not on the fly in the middle of a party. The best he could think of was placing a spell on the glass that would make her feel increasingly warm — and potentially, he could hope, lead her to thoughts of how uncomfortably stuffy her clothes were, and what might ensue once she was safely home and out of them.

Not that that was coming any time soon, now that she'd made arrangements at her friend's home. Well, that wasn't his concern; it would just lead to a rather uncomfortable evening for Antigone. With a mischevious glint in his eye, Tiberius returned to her side and offered her the enchanted glass of champagne, while holding one he'd procured for himself closer to his chest. "My dear," he said with a slight smirk. She might pick up on the hidden mirth in his tone, but with any luck she wouldn't be able to guess what he'd done until the effects were already well underway.

  

He detached himself more readily than she had expected but she was relieved all the same. She hoped it took him a long time to find the drinks and an even longer time to get back. Tig was starting to contemplate wandering a few feet away so that it would make it harder for him to find her but it was too late, he was only a couple feet away.

It never occurred to her to suspect he might have tampered with her drink, it wasn't like he had ever slipped things into her drinks in the past, why would she start to suspect him now? Besides, she was far more concerned that he might grab her around the waist again, or that he'd call her his 'dear' again in that tone of voice. What even was that tone of voice? She wasn't really that thirsty but if she didn't drink it it was the same as telling him that she hadn't really wanted a drink but his arm had been bothering her, so she took a large sip while scowling at him through her mask. She probably should have thanked him but anyone within earshot was less likely to notice her rudeness by omission as opposed to a very insincere 'thank you'.

Tig took a subtle, half step away from him just to make sure that if he tried to touch her again it would be more difficult. Her hand was already reaching for a fan that wasn't there when she realized she was getting increasingly warm, too warm. She balled her hand into a fist and drank more champagne, that would hopefully cool her down. Why was it getting warmer for no apparent reason? It wasn't like she was flushed and she wasn't standing next to a fire. She wanted to excuse herself and stand outside for a few moments but then he might follow and he could probably get away with more out there, out from under the watchful eyes of everyone inside. She eyed him suspiciously. Was it his doing? "It's a little chilly in here, don't you think?" Surely if he had something to do with it, that would prompt some telling behavior? She realized after it was too late that she might have provided him with the perfect excuse to get close to her again under the guise of warming her up and that was doubly unappealing to her now.

---

| OUTFIT |

  

---

Tiberius was watching her keenly as she sipped her champagne for any signs of flushing cheeks or fidgeting, though of course he did his best to mask his interest. "I hadn't noticed," he responded dispassionately towards her comment. "Would you like me to fetch your coat?"

  

Technically, he gave nothing away. All the same, for lack of evidence she decided to take his generosity as an admission of guilt because it suited her regardless of whether he had actually done anything. At least he hadn't pressed himself against her in any fashion. "Oh no, I'm not that cold yet." If he put her coat anywhere near her she would set it on fire. Not that it would solve her overheating issue to be stood next to a fire.

It really was getting harder and harder to stand there and tolerate the heat. What could she do about it though? She had no layers to remove that wouldn't take her respectability with it. Even if they weren't in public though, there was no way she'd strip in front of him. He'd be thinking of that and she'd know that he was thinking of that and that he knew she was also thinking of that. "Brynn is beckoning me over, I should go see what she wants." Brynn was nowhere in sight but Tig wanted to put as much distance between them as possible.

---

| OUTFIT |

  

---

He didn't particularly want her to leave, at least not indefinitely, but he couldn't think of any very sound excuse to make her stay. He could have followed her, but that would have involved giving her the impression that he was following her, and he didn't want to be that obvious about it. It would also involve having to endure the company of her friend Miss Malfoy, which wasn't exactly high on his list of things he enjoyed doing.

If he couldn't prevent her going, perhaps at least he could leave her with a lasting image in her mind when she went. "Do as you like," he said with an offhand air, taking a step back to clear the way for her to walk past him and on to where she'd apparently sighted her friend. "But try to take care not to wear yourself out too much," he continued, leaning in to tell her quietly as she passed, "I want you ready for my cock tonight."

  

She might not know where Brynn was but she was going to walk off anyway and she didn't care if he watched her and realized that it had just been an excuse to ditch him. In fact, she hoped he did realize that she was rejecting his company, perhaps he'd take a hint for once. As long as he didn't see her heading for the door, she didn't doubt he'd follow her outside once he realized what she'd done. The heat was almost unbearable now, if the fresh air didn't help then at least she'd be in a more suitable place to counteract it with a spell.

Tig had only taken a couple steps when she stopped dead. It was a mistake not to have kept walking but it hadn't been a conscious decision she had made. It suddenly seemed beyond obvious what Tiberius' game was this evening. He resented having to come along to the stupid fashion show and as it was the first time they'd spent a great deal of time together since Easter, he was finally using it against her. Whatever had possessed her to be so open with him that night was now coming back to bite her. He was playing with her like she was a fly caught in a web. She'd liked it and he knew that it bothered her and so here he was, rubbing it in just because he could. He probably had no intention of even repeating it, he just wanted to rile her up and it was working. The worst part was that on some level she wanted him to make good on his vulgar threats which didn't surprise as much as she would have liked. That even a small part of her could be interested while it seemed to her that he was feigning interest just to amuse himself was intolerable.

At first she stood stock still, not even removing her eyes from the other side of the room. After a few seconds which seemed to drag on for an eternity, she turned her head toward him and seized his wrist tightly in her hot, clammy hand. "Stop mocking me," she snarled, lowering the volume of her voice to match his. "You can tease me about anything you like but not this. Call me stupid, ugly, childish, I don't care. I'm not interested in pining after you like a dog; I had a lapse in judgement, that's all." Thank goodness he couldn't see her face under the mask, she wasn't sure if she would be blushing but she knew she must be bright red from how warm she felt but she didn't need him to draw his own conclusions.

---

| OUTFIT |

  

---

Pining after him like a dog. The phrase stuck in his mind, and he smirked. What a wonderful way to phrase it — like a dog. He was certain that he could find a way to use that against her, sooner or later; as if the mere admission that she wanted a recurrence of what had happened previously (was pining for it!) wasn't enough of a leap from where they'd been prior to the evening's start. No, this all seemed to be working out in his favor, and quite easily, too. He was disappointed in himself for having waited so long to push the matter on her, if she was going to cave in this easily. Of course there was still a thin pretense in her words when she spoke of a 'lapse in judgement,' but he wasn't fooled. She'd wanted to provoke him into taking her so roughly the first time, and she wasn't at all opposed to it happening again.

"You needn't be pining for long," he replied in a quiet, taunting tone. He twisted his hand around inside her grasp, so that he could wrap his own fingers around her wrist in an odd double-hold that might have been intimate if it hadn't looked so overtly adversarial. "I'll take you as soon as we return home — unless you don't think you can stand to wait that long, slut," he added with a sneer.

  

It seemed her threatening tone was as utterly lost on him as what she had actually said. "I said, I'm - not - pining," she hissed furiously in staccato. She tried to wriggle her wrist out of his grasp but was reluctant to let go of his out of principle which made it nigh on impossible. At least the sentiment was there.

"I know what you're doing but it's not going to work, I don't want you, I'd sooner sleep on a bed of broken glass." As much as it was said for effect, if it came down to it she really would choose the broken glass over admitting out loud and to his face that she was attracted to him. The phrase 'If you lay a hand on me...' ran through her mind but obviously that would sound farcical with his hand already locked around her wrist. "But if a confession is what you're after then have this: I practically asked for that invitation tonight and I lied about Brynn because I find your company repugnant."

It was becoming increasingly difficult to keep her voice quiet. "The only reason I'd want to touch you is so I could wrap my hands around your throat." Her own words conjured up an image in her mind that made her feel the exact thing she was railing against which was so unexpected that her anger seemed to abruptly forget itself. Tig released his wrist and moved to walk away, hoping he wouldn't keep hold of her. "Don't follow me." Any intention of being discreet in going outside was out the window now, she starting to break a sweat.

---

| OUTFIT |

  

---