The Society - Part Two: But It's Better If You Do
By: runninginair

The champagne tickled the back of his throat as he took another sip, lightly-tinted hazel eyes scanning the room of party-goers. Everywhere gowns of varying shades spun in a dizzying motion, interspersed with the black shapes of suits until the dining chamber was nothing more than a mosaic of color and flesh. But this was a normal night in Beauxbatons.

Well, normal for most of the students, anyway. For one student in particular, tonight was going to be a bit more special.

Rainier Dubois leaned against the railing of one of many balconies at Beauxbatons Academy. The wrought-iron rail was cold against his back through the material of his tuxedo, but it was a refreshing contrast from the heat that filled his abdomen from the several glasses of champagne he had already consumed.

The large doors were held wide open by baby-blue sashes attached to the exterior of the school, letting the cool night air calm the flushed faces of the dancers, ensuring the party would go on far after everyone should have been too tired for the festivities. If people had slipped tiny amounts of pepper-up potion into the bubbling fountain from whence all the drinks came, no one said a word about it.

"Let me get one of those, mon ami."

The dark-haired boy who had just taken out a pack of cigarettes rolled his eyes, snorting indelicately in the back of his throat. When Rainier turned his head so the silvery glow from the hovering crystalline spheres lit on his face, though, the boy reached back into the pack, extending a hand with cigarette held between fingers.

"Merci."

Most of the population of this school were all the same: wealthy, beautiful, talented, and closets full of skeletons. The Dubois family was one of the wealthier ones. Did Rainier take advantage of that fact? Well, he wouldn't quite fit in here if he didn't. Smirking to himself, he lifted his wand to the cigarette, lighting the tip and taking in a long drag. The smoke made a soft, grey cloud above his head, blending in with the night sky. Yes, his family was one of the better-known among the school board, but to the youngest Dubois' dismay, he had spent six years here without a word from the Society.

Oh, the Society.

A scowl twisted the pretty-boy features, plump lips turning down at the corners as he took another hit. It had taken them long enough to contact him, alright. He had just begun to think he wasn't going to get an invitation at all – something that his father wouldn't have abided by, for certain – when Bernard Jourdan had magicked his way into Rainier's private quarters to inform him of his pending membership status and what he must do to make it a permanent position. There had been no question of 'would you like to be a member?' No one would ever say 'no.'

Everyone who was anyone at Beauxbatons was part of the Society. They shaped your future, decided if you made it in the world, had a hand in your career; their fingers were in so many pies that it was a wonder they all weren't walking around covered in crumbs and bits of filling.

In the end, it wouldn't matter how much money his family had, or how esteemed a position his father held. Without the Society, Rainier would get nowhere fast.

A tap of his finger had ashes spiraling over the side of the railing, drifting down to the ground far below. The music drifted out of the open doors, a simple waltz number now, and he watched as the couples all danced together in perfect unison; not a single dancer out of time, not a single foot out of step. It was beautiful in its symmetry, but boring in its sameness. That was how everything was here.

Except that, this time, Rainier wasn't going to attend the entire dance. His initiation was going to take place tonight. His task, just as his entire life, was easy. He had heard the horrific rumors of things people had been forced to do to become a member of the elite, terrifying feats to be performed, devilish tricks to be done to others…but Rainier? All he had to do was sleep with a professor.

Morceau de gâteau.

Another tip of his wrist, and the rest of the pale gold liquid slid down his throat. A tap of his wand on the glass had it vanishing into nowhere, and he strode back into the party, flicking his cigarette behind him as he went. He had thought for a while over which professor he was going to seduce tonight. Madame Moreau was his first thought: recently divorced, pushing forty, beautiful but reserved. Bits of conversation floated past his ears, but he ignored them all, because the professor he had decided on was refilling her glass at the fountain. The swell of her dress exemplified her figure perfectly, accenting the best parts. Though, truthfully, she was one of the most beautiful women in the school – period.

"Madame Legrand."

"Monsieur Dubois."

She turned to regard him, her dark hair pinned elegantly atop her head, dark blue feathers artistically arranged to complement the deep shades of her dress. Bosom nearly toppling out of the corseted top, hips given prominence by the bell shape of the bottom of the gown, and lips painted a startling red, she looked every bit the temptress and nothing like a professor. Then again, none of the professors ever looked 'professional.' Not really. Everything in Beauxbatons was a competition, and that did not only extend to the students.

"Are you enjoying yourself, Madame?"

"Please, call me Elisa. We are not in class at present."

A pleasant smile lifted up the corners of his lips, the niceness of the expression perfectly hiding the devious plot beneath it. This was going to be all too easy.

"Of course, Elisa." He moved a few steps closer, brushing his arm against hers under the pretense of reaching for a fresh glass.

A movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention, something far more subtle than the twirling and spinning going on across the dance floor. Shifting his gaze, he saw Bernard take a seat at a nearby table, his sharp, brown eyes focusing directly on Rainier. Without letting Madame Legrand see, the blond inclined his head just slightly to the elder student. He had to stifle a rolling of the eyes at the impatience pulling at Bernard's eyebrows. Yes, yes, he was getting on with it.

The Society was as impatient as they were devious.

"You still haven't answered my question."

Madame Legrand wet her lips with her champagne. "What question was that, Rainier?"

"Are you enjoying yourself?"

Her hand fluttered in the air about them as if she was brushing away a pesky insect. "These parties are all the same. You attend one, you attend them all. Truthfully, I would not even bother to attend if it were not part of my duties as a professeure."

"Could I, at the very least, interest you in a dance? Maybe dancing with a handsome man will make it less drab and dreary?"

It was difficult to have much of an effect on most of the women at Beauxbatons, mainly because they knew just how attractive they were and certainly didn't need a man to reaffirm that for them. Maybe it was due to their age difference, but Elisa's chest flushed with a comely rosy color. Champagne glasses clinked as they met the table, and Rainier took the extended hand.

"You flatter an old woman, Rainier Dubois."

"I'm not trying to flatter you, Elisa, and you are most certainly not an 'old woman.'" Clicking his tongue on the roof of his mouth, Rainier led his professor between a few tables and onto the dance floor. As if perfectly orchestrated – which, knowing the Society, it probably was – the music slowed down as soon as they had joined both of their hands together. Without waiting for her to accept the movement, Rainier pulled Elisa against his chest, gently swaying from side to side, the dance steps he had been trained in since birth flowing smoothly down his legs and into his feet.

"I do believe this is rather inappropriate, Rainier."

Her tone belied her words; breathy and soft, they drifted up to his ear. With her head pressed near his shoulder, she couldn't see his lips, and he let a smirk dance across it as he danced across the floor.

"We are doing nothing more than dancing, Elisa. There is nothing wrong with this. Besides, as you previously stated, we are not in a classroom at present. Surely no one will mind a young man dancing with a beautiful woman."

Her shoulders shook delicately with a soft laugh. "You have a devil's tongue, Rainier."

Hazel eyes shifted to the side, finding Bernard still staring hard at the couple. "I have been told that more than once, Elisa, so you may be right. Tell me, though, would your chaperoning duties be missed if you were to, say, step out with me for a moment?"

Her dark eyes blinked up at him, cheeks now matching that soft blush that decorated the tops of her breasts. "Oh, now, that is truly inappropriate, Monsieur Dubois."

"That was not a no, Madame Legrand."

For a fleeting moment, he thought she would refute him. Maybe her morals would have been too strong to allow her to break that code of conduct forbidding teachers to have sexual relations with their students.

But this was Beauxbatons. Here, a code of conduct was only a suggestion.

The attention of a younger man, as Rainier had expected, won the slightly older woman over. He saw the acceptance and excitement of such a taboo thing in her eyes, the dark brown spiking suddenly with a fire that rivaled the sparkling lanterns floating overhead. She didn't even have to verbalize her answer. Rainier interlaced his fingers with hers and pulled her towards the door; and though he didn't necessarily look, he knew Bernard would soon be following. He would stand outside the door to ensure the deed had actually been done.

That was fine with Rainier. He had never minded an audience before.

Smirking to himself again, he led his professor up the stairs towards his dorm room. It was a spacious room, and yet the large, four-poster bed seemed to take up most of the space. He used Elisa's body to close the door, turning around and pushing her against it until it clicked shut, his body swiftly following hers and pressing her against it. Her breaths were already quickened and warm against his cheek as his lips found the side of her neck, his hands beginning the process of inching the voluptuous folds of her dress up her legs.

"You know, of course, that no one must ever know of this." Her words were mere whispers into the room.

His teeth grazed her skin as his fingers trailed up the inside of her thigh.

"Of course, Madame. This will be our little secret."

Outside, Bernard pressed a palm over his mouth to stifle the chuckle bubbling up his throat. He had chosen well. Dubois would be a good addition to the Society, indeed.