Author: Lash_Larue
Title: "Eventual Envelopment" Chapter 10 of 21

Pairing: Jean/Pansy
Rating: R

Warnings: Voyeurism, Masturbation, Obsessive/Compulsive behaviour, Self-destructive behaviour, Suicidal Thoughts, Violence

Word Count:2200

Disclaimer: These characters belong to JK Rowling

A/N:Possible triggers include thoughts of suicide.

"Eventual Envelopment"

Chapter Ten

"Bottoming Out"

I had my hand on the latch to the hidden compartment when she called again. It was a near thing, but I owed it to her to take whatever she wanted to give me, so I left it closed. I'd been caught out; there would be time after she was gone to call my solicitor and leave all my shit to her before I drank my little friend.

I took a shaky breath and walked into the bath. Jean was standing there, looking into the mirror, seeing her bedroom. I stepped up beside her and stared into the sink.

"Is that my room? I mean, I know this must be your mirror, but am I looking into my room?" she asked.

I risked a quick glance at her, and she looked more curious than anything else, but I simply could not face those eyes.

"Yes," I croaked, watching as my tears splashed into the sink.

"Some sort of spell? A charm of some kind?"

"Yes," I had to sniff a bit, things were bad enough without her seeing my stupid nose running.

"You've been watching me?"

"Yes."

"For how long?"

"Ever since you came here," I whispered, "since the very first night."

She was silent for a time, and I waited, staring at the sink drain and wishing that I could pour myself down it. I was kind of hoping she would hit me, frankly, beat me until the bright pain drove out this horrible numbness.

"But - why? Whatever for?" she asked.

"Because I can't help it. I need to," I admitted.

There was another silence, then -

"Oh."

That's all she said, just "oh". My nose was dripping now, but what the fuck, I doubted that a bit of snot was going to make her think any less of me at this point. Likely the snot ranked higher in her opinion, I suppose it at least serves a purpose.

I felt it when she left, heard her quiet footsteps walking away, and I raised my face to the mirror. I stared at her empty room and waited for her to walk into it and spell all her stuff into that bottomless bag and leave. Waited for the sound of the door and the elevator to take her out of my life forever while I planned what to tell my solicitor and where to leave the letter that would make it all legal.

"Here," she said, and I turned to see her holding out a glass of wine. She had another for herself, and a bottle. "I thought maybe you could use a drink."

I hadn't seen this coming, but she wasn't wrong, and I took the glass.

"Thanks," I managed to get out.

"Tell me about the spell."

"Okay," I replied, and I did. It took a while, because I told her everything. I explained to her how I could control it once it was activated, how the point of view changed according to my desires, how I could restrict the field of view, how the toilet alcove was not visible, and why it was that she had not detected it.

It was perhaps the most bizarre experience of my life, standing there sipping wine with her while I gave her the details of how I had invaded her privacy and violated her trust. She would ask the occasional question in that research tone of voice and I would explain things as completely as I could.

Finally I was done, and I emptied my glass and resumed studying the sink drain.

"Pansy, you are unbelievable," she said calmly, and my shoulders hunched, waiting for what had to come next.

"This is the most sophisticated magic I have ever seen," she told me, admiration evident in her voice.

"Huh?" That's what I said; "huh?", and I looked up at her while she refilled my glass.

"Do you watch me having sex?" she asked, and I realized that she wasn't done with me yet.

"Yes."

"Does that arouse you?" she continued, and I was starting to think that I had drunk the poison after all, that I was dead or dying and this was some strange afterlife.

"Yes," I answered. That answer I wasn't going to elaborate on, even if I was dead I wasn't going to tell her about the pain it also caused me.

"Do you ever masturbate while you watch me?"

Oh dear God...

"Yes."

"You come? You have orgasms doing this?"

"Yes."

She emptied her second glass, and I did too, and she split the remaining wine between us.

"What's better for you, more arousing, watching me with a man or a woman?"

"By yourself," I mumbled, "it's better for me when you're by yourself, especially that first night in the shower."

"All right then," she said softly. "I think we'll stay in tonight, you're in no condition to go out. Wash up a bit and then come and help me with supper, won't you?"

She took the empty glasses and the bottle and left.

Like I said, bizarre.

I cleared the mirror, washed my face, changed into some grubbies and went out to the kitchen. Jean was wearing a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants and was busy with supper.

"Oh, good," she greeted me, "would you do the salad? I thought spaghetti would be nice."

"Okay."

She didn't mention the mirror or our conversation in my bathroom at all. We ate supper, and it was great, and we had another bottle of wine, and we watched some mindless crap on the telly.

I woke up to the smell of breakfast cooking, and I realized that she had given me a dreamless sleep potion. She was maybe smarter than I thought.

She smiled when I walked into the kitchen, and she handed me my tea, and it wasn't until I sat down to eat that I noticed the blue shampoo bottle on the table. I cringed, but I didn't say anything, and she didn't either. We just had breakfast together like usual, and cleared up after, also like usual.

"Want to do anything in particular today?" I asked, still frankly uncertain just how things stood.

"I think I'll have a shower," she answered me, looking straight into my eyes. Then she picked up the shampoo and went into her room, shutting the door behind her.

In a daze, I walked into my bathroom and tapped the mirror.

Jean entered her bathroom and disappeared, and after a bit I heard the toilet flush. She walked to her sink, naked from the waist down, and brushed her teeth. She stared into the mirror and pulled her shirt off, and then reached into her shower and started the water.

She stepped into it, and stood under the water, turning her face up to the spray, brushing her wet hair off of her face. She stepped back, and I knew that she knew I was watching as she filled her hand with the shampoo, watching as the thick lather exploded under her fingers and ran down her face. Watching as she rubbed her hair over her chest, watching as she massaged her breasts, her fingers slipping over the soft skin, teasing the nipples shining pink within the ice blue foam.

She knew that I was watching as she lifted her breast to her mouth, watching as her tongue circled the nipple, watching as her teeth closed over it.

She knew that I was listening to the moan as she covered her mound with the thick stuff, sliding down the shower wall, and she knew that my fingers were sliding into myself as she pushed her own inside of her, she knew that I was coming right along with her.

And I knew, too. I knew that she was being so passionate, so wanton, so open, just for me. Every little detail was for me, and it was beyond beautiful, beyond any dream that I had ever had.

And I knew that the best part of my life was a virtual pity-fuck in an enchanted mirror, and the tears ran down my face even as I screamed out my completion.

XXXXX

She continued to burn through women, with the occasional man thrown in, and her anger just seemed to build. It was a rare occasion when she even seemed really aware of who she was with. Now and again the blue bottle would be on the table at breakfast, or lunch, even at supper, rarely.

And I would always drink in the sight of her, but we never spoke of it, not ever.

We were in a pretty nice club when it happened, and it wasn't really Jean's fault.

She was sitting at our table while I went to get us some drinks, and a woman sat down beside her and made her interest clear. Extremely clear, and before I could get back to the table some bitch came over and slapped Jean across the mouth without saying a word.

The place went silent; this wasn't a place where violence was the norm. I ran back to the table, there was blood running from Jean's mouth and the woman who had hit her was standing right beside her glaring at her.

"Stand up, you cunt," she spat, "I'm not done with you yet."

Jean didn't say a word, she just handed me her purse, which I knew contained her wand, stood up, and proceeded to beat the living shit out of the woman who had hit her. I tried to break it up but caught an elbow in the chest that stunned me, and then the club security was there and it was over. Those guys were professionals, and they were strong as hell, and they had Jean wrapped up without hurting her before I could catch my breath.

The other woman did not need restraint. In fact for a moment I thought that she might need resuscitating. Then the cops got there and slapped the cuffs on Jean, and hauled her off.

I called my solicitor, who had been my grandmother's solicitor, and gave him the short version. Then I started listing the names of witnesses.

I should explain something here.

My grandmother's family has influence.

I try not to trade on it, I don't feel really entitled to do so because I have not yet done something that I know she really wanted me to. Once again I have failed to meet expectations. Well, hopes, more like, even dreams. But they were my grandmother's hopes and dreams, and that mattered to me.

But now Jean was in trouble, and I called him.

The cops took Jean away, and the paramedics hauled off the bint who had started this shit. Then three men in Saville Row suits arrived, and the oldest of them, a very elegant man with grey hair and sharp eyes walked up to me and bowed.

The two younger men grabbed my witnesses and sat them down, while Bertram put an arm around me and promised me that he would take care of everything. He had been my grandmother's personal solicitor, and it was Bertram who had come to inform me of her death. He was the closest thing I had to a proper father, and I was glad to see him.

The younger men worked efficiently, and it was not long before Bertram assisted me into the waiting car and we swept off to the police station.

I'm not sure how it works in other places, but here, when a Rolls Silver Cloud carrying the senior partner of the oldest law firm in England pulls up in front of a local police station, people pay attention.

Bertram did not bluster, he never did, he politely asked to see the officer in charge and presented him with several statements from eyewitnesses who had testified to the effect that Jean had been attacked first, and without provocation. He said a lot of things that I only vaguely understood, but the cop sure did, and he looked over at me nervously.

Bertram and his firm had been smoothing over the peccadilloes of their client's younger family members for centuries, and they were good at it. I knew Jean would be found innocent, but I didn't want this to go to trial, I wanted it eradicated, and so I had used every tool available to me. I owed my grandmother another one.

"This officer will take you to your friend, Mistress Pansy," Bertram said when he rejoined me. "The captain wanted me to express his sincere apologies for the precipitate actions of his men in incarcerating the young lady." He gave me a small smile, and the cop anxiously escorted me to where Jean was being held.

She was sitting huddled in a corner, hugging her knees to her chest. The cop opened the door and gestured for me to proceed, and I went to her and knelt beside her. She raised her tear-streaked eyes to mine.

"I don't want to be like this," she sobbed.

"Okay," I said softly.