The expression that was on the half-Veela’s face was puzzling, to say the least. Charles left foot moved back – away from the half-breed – as they approached him. He wasn’t sure what exactly he’d said to provoke this sudden change and just as he raised his arm to grab his wand – incase things turned sour – his arm was pinned between the two bodies and their lips met.
Instantly and with a ferocity akin to a werewolf on a full-moon, Charles mind became a half mix of lust and anger. He wanted more – his body wanted more – and his heartrate was showing as such though he knew it was just their charm and exhaling as their lips parted, only half listening to their words, Charles swallowed and it seemed that whatever she had thought Charles said, had now come to fruition.
Taking a legitimate step back this time, his body still yearning for hers, Charles’ clenched his jaw; his hand now clutching his wand.
“You’re a woman,” He stated matter-of-factly, “I don’t care how you choose to present yourself – I just expect honesty. And I do not appreciate you blackmailing a member of the Ministry.”
The moment his words left his lips, his wand was raised and aimed at one of the staff, “I – ” Charles paused and lowered his wand. Maybe it was best to not do anything. He was outnumbered and he was almost certain they could attack him before he could obliviate everyone.
He then swallowed and took a step toward the half-Veela, the anger present in his bitter-stare shadowing whatever charm she had placed on him with her half-breed magic. But he needed to make an example of the situation. Of her.
His eyes softened at that moment and he leant in toward her, resisting every temptation to push her against a wall and have his way. At least his training with these kinds of situations were coming into play – though it was hard – and not just what his trousers were concealing. A breathy voice escaped him, “is your back-room empty?” He whispered into her ear as teasingly as he could; his teeth nipping at the lobe of her ear.
No sooner had she answered, had he grabbed her wrist and apparated to another part of the theatre – away from the staff.
Once they’d disapparated, Charles pulled out his wand and took a step back. He aimed it at the door and cast Collorportus before turning and pointing it at her (though each time he looked at her, he could feel some invisible string tugging at him – begging for him to do much more). It was a conflicting and confusing situation for him.
“Let’s start again. And this time, you will not try to use your… charms against me. Let’s not make this worse on yourself. Who are you?”
Instantly and with a ferocity akin to a werewolf on a full-moon, Charles mind became a half mix of lust and anger. He wanted more – his body wanted more – and his heartrate was showing as such though he knew it was just their charm and exhaling as their lips parted, only half listening to their words, Charles swallowed and it seemed that whatever she had thought Charles said, had now come to fruition.
Taking a legitimate step back this time, his body still yearning for hers, Charles’ clenched his jaw; his hand now clutching his wand.
“You’re a woman,” He stated matter-of-factly, “I don’t care how you choose to present yourself – I just expect honesty. And I do not appreciate you blackmailing a member of the Ministry.”
The moment his words left his lips, his wand was raised and aimed at one of the staff, “I – ” Charles paused and lowered his wand. Maybe it was best to not do anything. He was outnumbered and he was almost certain they could attack him before he could obliviate everyone.
He then swallowed and took a step toward the half-Veela, the anger present in his bitter-stare shadowing whatever charm she had placed on him with her half-breed magic. But he needed to make an example of the situation. Of her.
His eyes softened at that moment and he leant in toward her, resisting every temptation to push her against a wall and have his way. At least his training with these kinds of situations were coming into play – though it was hard – and not just what his trousers were concealing. A breathy voice escaped him, “is your back-room empty?” He whispered into her ear as teasingly as he could; his teeth nipping at the lobe of her ear.
No sooner had she answered, had he grabbed her wrist and apparated to another part of the theatre – away from the staff.
Once they’d disapparated, Charles pulled out his wand and took a step back. He aimed it at the door and cast Collorportus before turning and pointing it at her (though each time he looked at her, he could feel some invisible string tugging at him – begging for him to do much more). It was a conflicting and confusing situation for him.
“Let’s start again. And this time, you will not try to use your… charms against me. Let’s not make this worse on yourself. Who are you?”