Two evenings later, Poppy took a deep breath before opening her closet and
retrieving the parcel that had been sent to her earlier that day. Removing
the lid, she withdrew the form-fitting black gown, sleek gloves, and
matching black cloak with deep blood-red velvet on the inside. Moving
mechanically, she slipped into the gown and wished it had a higher collar,
but no, this is what he wanted. It was off the shoulder and slipped into an
Empress-style cut for the bodice. Sighing and trying not to think of how
she wished it was more modest, she drew her hair back and pinned it up.
Slipping into her shoes, she walked out of her bedroom, drawing the cloak
on as she went. Needless to say, she was dreading what she was about to do,
but she knew she couldn't prolong it any longer. To do so would make things
worse.
With such thoughts in her mind, she disapparated from her home and appeared just outside Aurelius' home. It was elegant in a dark sort of way; the likes of which that gave her chills right down to her toes. Taking a deep breath, she moved forward and pulled the doorbell. Waiting patiently, she wondered if, even in the smallest measurement, there was a different route to go.
A moment later, the door opened and there he stood, draped in deep green and black robes that would have flattered him had she not had the deepest loathing for him. "Ah, my dear," he greeted her with a cold smile on his lips, beckoning her inside. "So good of you to come," he took slid the cloak off from her with slow movements before moving to hang it in the closet. As he turned back to her, his eyes gazed upon her admiringly, taking in just how form-fitting the gown truly was. "The dress becomes you, my dear," he kissed her hand, and it would have been a gallant gesture if any other man had done so, but not him. Not with the cold, licentious expression in his eyes.
She knew she couldn't stay silent for much longer. It was not a luxury she had. "You chose it," she responded, waiting for him to release her hand. "That I did," he leered, still holding her hand as he lead her to the dinning table, which just happened to be set quite elaborately with elegant candelabra, crimson red roses, and the finest china. All a part of his game.
Leading her over to the table, he pulled out her chair for her. She sat down gracefully and took in a sharp intake of breath, as he had just placed his hands on the bare skin of her shoulders. He leaned in close to her, "What do you think? I went all out for you."
I know you did. She took a moment to gather her wits about her. Calm and collected... careful where you tread. Poppy, kept herself deliberately still. "It shows," she responded, trying not to focus on the slow, would-be sensuous circles his thumb was making on her skin.
He laughed, truly enjoying the game. Removing his hands from her, he went to his seat and poured the wine for them, handing her goblet over to her. She took it and held it to her lips, pretending to sip. He drank from his and she knew then that it wasn't poisoned, but still, she was taking no chances.
As she pretended to sip still, a nicely-sized serving of filet mignon appeared on her plate and on his. She glanced at him and wished she hadn't. Clearly, he was amused with the fact that she was going to try and get through a full meal without drinking or eating anything. Clenching her teeth, she was in a corner and they both knew it.
Taking a small bite, she found it to be delicious, but she knew she wouldn't be able to eat, yet she knew she couldn't get around it. Taking another bite, she spared a glance at him. He was watching her keenly. So, he's just going to wait me out... Steeling herself, Poppy ate with forced casual nonchalance, determined to wait him out as well. She knew then that dinner would be a quiet affair as he was more diverted with making her as uncomfortable as possible.
A little while later, after he'd eaten and she'd made inroads into her food, their plates were vanished. "Well, my dear," he poured a little more wine for the two of them, "it's been a pleasant evening, has it not?" Clenching her teeth was giving her quite a headache. Why can't the evening be over? Poppy maintained her composure. "Yes, pleasant," she lied through her teeth, not daring to close her eyes or even manage a discreet massage of her temple. She would endure the headache, there was nothing for it.
He rose from his seat and moved to tap the wizard phonograph with his wand, smooth jazzy big band music issuing forth, presenting irony when compared to the tense electricity in the air. He moved to her then, sliding his fingers from her shoulder to her hand, which he then took hold of. "May I have this dance?" He asked, but they both knew it wasn't a request but more of a command. She didn't answer. Instead, she made herself rise and follow him to the cleared floor.
Though it became clear to her that she should have verbalized an answer to him. This knowledge was brought forth when he pulled her into his arms, much too close for her own comfort. "I heard about your friend, Rory," he remarked, his eyes cold, his hand not on her shoulder blade as is appropriate for dancing, but low on the small of her back. With his other hand, he gripped her own hand just tight enough for ill comfort. "It's sad really. You must miss him," he taunted quietly, gazing into her eyes.
Poppy followed his steps as he lead her in a slow dance, trying to master herself. Her insides were squirming and she felt, any moment, she would lose whatever dinner she'd managed to force down. She knew she was treading on thin ice and knew that she was so deep there would be no rescuing her without endangering someone. Why doesn't he just kill me? Poison me. Something... anything!
He moved with her about the room, gliding easily upon the marble floors with her in his arms, moving to the feel and tune of the big band music that Poppy tried to focus on, as a means of staying as distanced as she could. It was getting difficult to do so and she didn't know how much longer she could last without making an even larger mistake.
Aurelius dipped her then, still holding her very closely. "You'd miss Alastor, wouldn't you?" He asked, leering down at her, their faces inches apart. He closed the space between them and brushed his lips across hers briefly, aiming to unsettle her. Breathe... just breathe. She felt her skin crawl, even if she was learning to keep on her toes around him. He was slick and he knew it, too. She'd have to fight fire with fire. "I know you would," he pulled her upright, holding her hand up to kiss her palm. She didn't bat an eyelash, but held her hand as still as possible. The sooner she played along the sooner she could leave. She merely gazed back at him, keeping her expression neutral. It would not do to give him anything more to use against her.
"Well," he smiled his slick smile at her. "It's been a lovely evening, but all good things must come to an end," he took her arm, leading her back to the entry hall to retrieved her cloak from the closet, sliding it onto her after he kissed the back of her neck. He then turned her around and captured her mouth with his, kissing her hungrily with his arms around her waist. Her heart beat faster as she tried not to push him away or upset him, when he pulled away and smiled broadly at her, leaving her with a cold and sick feeling.
He opened the door and guided her to it. "Good evening, Poppy. Take care." He told her with feigned concern and politeness as she walked out it. Without a backward glance, she heard the door close, and within that second, she apparated back to her house, where she made it to her bathroom to wash before screaming loud enough for those in America to hear.
With such thoughts in her mind, she disapparated from her home and appeared just outside Aurelius' home. It was elegant in a dark sort of way; the likes of which that gave her chills right down to her toes. Taking a deep breath, she moved forward and pulled the doorbell. Waiting patiently, she wondered if, even in the smallest measurement, there was a different route to go.
A moment later, the door opened and there he stood, draped in deep green and black robes that would have flattered him had she not had the deepest loathing for him. "Ah, my dear," he greeted her with a cold smile on his lips, beckoning her inside. "So good of you to come," he took slid the cloak off from her with slow movements before moving to hang it in the closet. As he turned back to her, his eyes gazed upon her admiringly, taking in just how form-fitting the gown truly was. "The dress becomes you, my dear," he kissed her hand, and it would have been a gallant gesture if any other man had done so, but not him. Not with the cold, licentious expression in his eyes.
She knew she couldn't stay silent for much longer. It was not a luxury she had. "You chose it," she responded, waiting for him to release her hand. "That I did," he leered, still holding her hand as he lead her to the dinning table, which just happened to be set quite elaborately with elegant candelabra, crimson red roses, and the finest china. All a part of his game.
Leading her over to the table, he pulled out her chair for her. She sat down gracefully and took in a sharp intake of breath, as he had just placed his hands on the bare skin of her shoulders. He leaned in close to her, "What do you think? I went all out for you."
I know you did. She took a moment to gather her wits about her. Calm and collected... careful where you tread. Poppy, kept herself deliberately still. "It shows," she responded, trying not to focus on the slow, would-be sensuous circles his thumb was making on her skin.
He laughed, truly enjoying the game. Removing his hands from her, he went to his seat and poured the wine for them, handing her goblet over to her. She took it and held it to her lips, pretending to sip. He drank from his and she knew then that it wasn't poisoned, but still, she was taking no chances.
As she pretended to sip still, a nicely-sized serving of filet mignon appeared on her plate and on his. She glanced at him and wished she hadn't. Clearly, he was amused with the fact that she was going to try and get through a full meal without drinking or eating anything. Clenching her teeth, she was in a corner and they both knew it.
Taking a small bite, she found it to be delicious, but she knew she wouldn't be able to eat, yet she knew she couldn't get around it. Taking another bite, she spared a glance at him. He was watching her keenly. So, he's just going to wait me out... Steeling herself, Poppy ate with forced casual nonchalance, determined to wait him out as well. She knew then that dinner would be a quiet affair as he was more diverted with making her as uncomfortable as possible.
A little while later, after he'd eaten and she'd made inroads into her food, their plates were vanished. "Well, my dear," he poured a little more wine for the two of them, "it's been a pleasant evening, has it not?" Clenching her teeth was giving her quite a headache. Why can't the evening be over? Poppy maintained her composure. "Yes, pleasant," she lied through her teeth, not daring to close her eyes or even manage a discreet massage of her temple. She would endure the headache, there was nothing for it.
He rose from his seat and moved to tap the wizard phonograph with his wand, smooth jazzy big band music issuing forth, presenting irony when compared to the tense electricity in the air. He moved to her then, sliding his fingers from her shoulder to her hand, which he then took hold of. "May I have this dance?" He asked, but they both knew it wasn't a request but more of a command. She didn't answer. Instead, she made herself rise and follow him to the cleared floor.
Though it became clear to her that she should have verbalized an answer to him. This knowledge was brought forth when he pulled her into his arms, much too close for her own comfort. "I heard about your friend, Rory," he remarked, his eyes cold, his hand not on her shoulder blade as is appropriate for dancing, but low on the small of her back. With his other hand, he gripped her own hand just tight enough for ill comfort. "It's sad really. You must miss him," he taunted quietly, gazing into her eyes.
Poppy followed his steps as he lead her in a slow dance, trying to master herself. Her insides were squirming and she felt, any moment, she would lose whatever dinner she'd managed to force down. She knew she was treading on thin ice and knew that she was so deep there would be no rescuing her without endangering someone. Why doesn't he just kill me? Poison me. Something... anything!
He moved with her about the room, gliding easily upon the marble floors with her in his arms, moving to the feel and tune of the big band music that Poppy tried to focus on, as a means of staying as distanced as she could. It was getting difficult to do so and she didn't know how much longer she could last without making an even larger mistake.
Aurelius dipped her then, still holding her very closely. "You'd miss Alastor, wouldn't you?" He asked, leering down at her, their faces inches apart. He closed the space between them and brushed his lips across hers briefly, aiming to unsettle her. Breathe... just breathe. She felt her skin crawl, even if she was learning to keep on her toes around him. He was slick and he knew it, too. She'd have to fight fire with fire. "I know you would," he pulled her upright, holding her hand up to kiss her palm. She didn't bat an eyelash, but held her hand as still as possible. The sooner she played along the sooner she could leave. She merely gazed back at him, keeping her expression neutral. It would not do to give him anything more to use against her.
"Well," he smiled his slick smile at her. "It's been a lovely evening, but all good things must come to an end," he took her arm, leading her back to the entry hall to retrieved her cloak from the closet, sliding it onto her after he kissed the back of her neck. He then turned her around and captured her mouth with his, kissing her hungrily with his arms around her waist. Her heart beat faster as she tried not to push him away or upset him, when he pulled away and smiled broadly at her, leaving her with a cold and sick feeling.
He opened the door and guided her to it. "Good evening, Poppy. Take care." He told her with feigned concern and politeness as she walked out it. Without a backward glance, she heard the door close, and within that second, she apparated back to her house, where she made it to her bathroom to wash before screaming loud enough for those in America to hear.
