this life we're living in {kieran

[Linette Durand]

MY INTEGRITY WAS SOLD
PRIZED AND PLACED UP ON A SHELF, WORTH ITS WEIGHT IN GOLD

There was something calming about nighttime. Seeing the moon overhead, nearly full, casting a pale light over the grounds. The stars hanging in the sky like tiny diamonds forming constellations. The contrast of fire against the backdrop of the velvet sky. Everyone else asleep and not bothering her...

Whatever the reason, Linette had always preferred nighttime. The Head Girl ought to be in the Ravenclaw common room, or patrolling the corridors to report miscreants at this hour. The caretaker had already caught her coming in once since term began, one might argue that she was pushing her luck at this point. But one ought to shut it and let her enjoy the only hours she truly had to herself. The caretaker had it in for her for reasons she couldn't fathom, that wasn't her problem. She had never done anything to him that she could recall, and she was the head girl. Of all the students in the castle, she didn't know why he was so determined to have her put in detention for the rest of the school year. He had spotted her coming back in one night early in the year, but Professor Katon had been nearby and rescued her. Another reason she couldn't understand.

She was a talented actress, if she must say so herself. She could smile and nod at the right times. But she didn't understand people at all, what made them tick. They confused her. Intellect alone should be enough to make it, but she knew from her upbringing that people needed so much more. And some actually thrived in those social situations. She shuddered at the thought of it, and reached for the secret pocket of her bag, finger tracing the small square inside. How many times had she imagined simply pulling it out during one of her parents' insufferable dinner parties and lighting the whole place ablaze? She had lost count. Seeing all of their ridiculous pretense and presentation burning away would be like setting herself free, and she wouldn't have the nerve to disobey like that. It was no secret that her parents had been hoping for a male heir when she came along, but they made do with raising her to be the perfect daughter, ready to go out into the world and live a respectable pureblood life. Staying within every line that was drawn. Being tastefully wealthy and raising children that were just as well behaved as she was. All of that.

If Linette were ever taken to one of the head shrinkers she had heard about from her classmates that took Muggle Studies, they would have a job sorting her out. She stared out at the lawns and wiggled her toes, enjoying the feeling of grass beneath her bare feet. It was almost like she was two people: the respectable pureblood that would graduate only to marry well and produce an heir to the family fortune, and the intelligent Ravenclaw with a lot of repressed anger at being forced to smile and nod to people she could run intellectual circles around because they were male and she was not. That repressed anger was what led her out to the grounds at midnight, sitting under a tree in her blouse and skirt, using her robes as a pillow for her neck. She had set fire to a few leaves earlier, watching the embers spark into the air and enjoying the smell of burning greenery, but she had put them out and hastily buried the evidence when she noticed the groundskeeper in the distance, heading up to the school. One person had already happened upon her when she was venting her anger, and now she was forced to tell people she knew to leave the timid halfblood alone. Not her best moment.

It was such a shame that morning ever had to come. Soon enough she would have to sneak back up to her dormitory, stopping by a lavatory in the way to wash away the dirt that had gotten under her nails when she buried the burned leaves, and clean her bare feet off to hide the fact that she had been outside. Her fellow Ravenclaws, most of whom were already sound asleep by now save for those that still had homework left to do, would never realize that she hadn't been there the whole time. Two different people. What were head-shrinkers paid, in muggle money? Between the case of dual identity and her addiction to lighting things on fire to calm herself down, she would earn one of them a mint if they charged by how off you were. That would be the sensible way to charge, at any rate. She sighed and reached into her bag again. It was right there, tempting her. No one was around, not this late. And she really wanted to see what would happen if she lit a leaf on fire and dropped it on the surface of the lake without putting it out. The lake was a few minutes away, but she could walk over.

[Kieran Prince]

Perhaps it was unsurprising of a Slytherin, even more so for a Prince, their line having a past as shadowed and dark as their trademark hair, but Kieran liked the night. The emptiness of the corridors during the late hours of past curfew had a strange, almost comforting presence to them. He could take his steps slowly, enjoying the echo of his soles off the cold stone of the castle walls, occasionally being broken up by the sound of grit between the leather and flagstone, it’s harsh scratching quality nearly as pleasing as raking nails down a chalkboard. Even if no one were around to wince, he grinned at the irksome sound, for he was free to do as he pleased, away from prying professors’ eyes.

He could explore the empty rooms he came across, noting those with a layer of undisturbed dust thick enough to indicate it not being utilized by his classmates. One never knew when the opportunity would arise to need a more… secluded location. Thin lips pulled into a grin at the prospect, recalling the blush of a fourth year badger earlier that day. He hadn’t noticed the poor girl at first, his sights on tastier prey amongst the ravens, until one choice bird walked past the younger witch and drew his attention to the way she was staring at him. His eyebrow had rose out of habit and the dear’s cheeks had flushed with his gaze. Ever the one to play nice, Kieran had made it a point to walk past her then, among the rush of students heading to their last classes, when two unknowingly obliging classmates came towards him to his right, giving him cause to turn his chest towards her as he walked between them and let one of his fingers lightly trail along her robed arm. His steps slow and measured, he didn’t need to turn and guess the expression on her face, or whether she had turned to look back at him, her breath still being held in those lungs of hers. Her friend’s frantic question of ‘are you alright’ told him all he needed. Perhaps he would entertain himself later and see if he could help her ‘feel’ better.

The memory deepened the grin he bore as he looked out over the lawns. As his gaze scanned the area below he stopped, the night air blowing a few longer hairs along his forehead back as he noted the figure below. Despite his rounds being over in the next few minutes, he moved more swiftly down the outer corridor, stone arches lining the open end to his left, curious as to who was brave enough, or foolish enough, to be out so late. Once outside the castle, he tread softly, not wanting to alert them to his presence; there was a dark humor in coming up on people like that, their scream of shock never failing to make him smile wickedly. Witches were the best, naturally, being, for the most part, the more skittish of the sexes, coupled with their higher vocal range, made for the best reactions. When he drew close enough to see it was indeed a witch, his movement became more feline as he silently went about prowling his prey.

When he recognized the form as that of their own Head Girl, Kieran’s eyes brightened.

Her bag joined in his game, as if by conspiracy, making wonderful little rustling sounds as she dug into it, both masking his approach and keeping her occupied as his form come up from behind less than a yard away. Once directly behind her, he carefully lowered himself, crouching behind her, his knees to either side of her thin form, his hands pulling the sides of his robes back to be bound out of the way in a single palm. Pleased with her distraction, he leaned in, closing in on her ear, a wayward strand of her hair tickling his cheek, and as he drew close enough for his warm breath to brush her lobe as he whispered, each word wrapped in velvet, “Need assistance?”

---

OOC- I do apologize for the delay. I had to fly out of town unexpectedly and just got back yesterday. No whippings, right?

[Linette Durand]

MY INTEGRITY WAS SOLD
PRIZED AND PLACED UP ON A SHELF, WORTH ITS WEIGHT IN GOLD

Ugh, why didn't she clean her bag out more often? There were two empty ink bottles and a few coins just floating through the bottom of her schoolbag. She didn't even have any need to be carrying three sickles with her to class, unless some idiot attempted to start a toll booth to get to classes. The coins might injure someone if they were embedded in the eyeball. No, she would never actually do that. She was the Head Girl, besides, so she could just give the prat that attempted a traffic-impeding moneymaking scheme a detention and be on her way. She would rather throw something at people who annoyed her. That was perhaps the most frightening aspect of her for a head-shrinker to attempt to unravel. As a dainty socialite she should abhor violence and seek to pass on her pure blood, but she would rather settle her problems and vent some of her pent up anger at the same time, if it was an option. She was rational, sure. There was just a lot of pent-up anger behind the intelligence and perfectly practiced socialite smile.

She didn't realize that anyone had approached her, until a voice started in her ear. Linette started and dropped the coins she had picked up from the bottom of her bag. The sheer panic of the moment had tripled her heart rate. Having someone come up and find her while she was out past curfew was exactly what she had been worried about, blasted karma. And if she had still had her matchbook out when someone approached her? She might as well just snap her wand herself and prepare for living a life on a street corner. Admittedly, that was only marginally worse than the loveless carry-on-the-line marriage she was headed for when she graduated, but her underlying anger with what she came from didn't extend to objecting to looking her best. There were lines to be drawn.

When the initial shock wore off she was able to use the logical part of her mind to work past the blood pounding in her ears and do the rational thing. Swinging her elbow back as hard as she could to hit the assailant was, after all, the logical thing to do in the situation, wasn't it? As she, a rational and careful individual, had arrived at the conclusion that it would be the best course of action, of course it was. A good debater wasn't weighted down by facts or evidence, they could argue any position and make it sound entirely rational. And because admitting that they were arguing nothing would be detrimental to the argumentation, it was called politics and practiced like a muggle religion among pureblood families whenever they got together. Part of being high society was flaunting said society with dinner parties, intended to show the status of all involved. Actually feeding the people that attended was out of the question, as ladies were meant to starve in public to show how dainty they were. Phah. She had seen her mother consume several extra helpings after the guests left. Oh the joys of being a high-class female.

People like Kieran Prince, on the other hand, always seemed to have a swagger in their step as they strutted about the castle. That was who had snuck up behind her to whisper in her ear. She hastily moved away to give herself room to face him. She knew about his reputation. Hell, anyone with more than half a brain in their year knew about his reputation. Which meant that it was a very small number, but no doubt he preferred it that way. He was very polite most of the time, but she was no fool. Linette, being a master of a life with two-faces, never took anything at face value. The world was full of idiots she had never met, and idiots that did everything humanly possible to make her day hell. Her opinion of Kieran was always complicated, but she had a right to be angry after he had snuck up on her in the middle of the night. For all she knew, he could have been a dangerous creature that had got loose from the forest. (That was her reason for the impulsive violence - which was, of course, entirely rational at the time - and she was sticking with it.)

"What in blazes are you trying to do? Lead me to an early grave?" She scowled, more on principle than anything else. He had been creeping about trying to scare her, she had more than a right to be angry about it. "And I'm perfectly fine on my own." Linette picked up her bag and closed it, just in case, setting it down on her bare feet. "Why are you out here, anyway? It's got to be past midnight..." Never mind that she was also out well past curfew, she was the Head Girl for reasons known only to the Headmaster. As long as that blasted caretaker didn't spot her coming back in there was nothing wrong with her coming out to enjoy the grounds at night.

(gets out matches i kid, i kid
sorry for the wait, getting back into
the swing of things with her. linette's
muse likes to hide in corners)

[Kieran Prince]

There was something about Linette Durand that compelled him to instigate these little moments with her. Yes, she was the prim little pureblood princess anytime their social circles collided, but there was more to her, he was sure. What exactly, he couldn’t say. Kieran vaguely wondered if she even realized how perfectly she wore her mask. Outward perfection such as hers did well to hide the imperfections felt underneath. He was sure there was something else to her; he knew the feeling himself, a fool he was not. Powerful, well connected, he wouldn’t say he was arrogant as much as he would confident, but he had to be. Even a Prince had a face to present to the complex world of high-class society, even more so amongst its venomous serpentine members. Being blamed for something that might happen, however unlikely, made him a pariah in his father’s eyes. A faulty curse set to backfire any moment. The stigma wasn’t nearly as easy to bear, as he would make it seem.

But what could her little flaw be? Anything he could imagine didn’t seem to fit. Beauty could be dangerous, several wizards in high society failed to recognize that. It wasn’t uncommon for a lovely witch to find herself a young, rich, widow. And while Linette did have a certain… spark… to her personality when away from the ever-vigilant eyes of social higher ups, he couldn’t picture her as one of that sort. She would have fallen for his charms long ago if she had. Figuring her out was a puzzle he seemed to be unable to leave unsolved. Under normal circumstances he’d think himself under a curse, but she’d never turned her wand on him. It was a pity, in a way; he rather enjoyed the idea of seeing what new revelations she’d give him if he ever managed to provoke her to such extremes.

Unfortunately, now wasn’t the time, nor the place.

His lips formed a pleased grin as he took in her scowl. It was quite beautiful on her; in the way it confirmed he could draw a reaction out of her. Her eyes held a fire in them when she did and it was so much more alluring than the usual empty gaze of ladies of her station. There was life in her, not just some pretty shell, as he was raised to hope to find in the hopeful mother of his heir. A frail thing that could be moved about like any other pawn, bear his children, manage his home, and be the lovely bauble on his arm, all with that blank, emotionless mask in place and eyes as unseeing as a corpse’s. Doing right by his line, proving the ridiculousness of that damned Seer, would require him to find such a witch, but not now. He had an apprenticeship to complete after Hogwarts, his own greater connections to strengthen, or his father’s to infiltrate, and then he could set about on the odious task. For now, he preferred the spirited witch whose displeasure with him rippled off her like heat from a fire and made him enjoy their little interactions all the more.

She was spirited, if only at times like this, but he didn’t seek her out for glimpses of her carefully crafted mask, he provoked her to see it slip, to get a glimpse of what was underneath, as he was now.

A light chuckle erupted in his throat as he remained crouched behind her, only moving his head back enough to ensure she didn’t bash into him with her movements. He reached out with his index finger and ran it up along her upper arm as he spoke, letting it rest lightly on her shoulder. “Oh, you mistake me, Linette, I would never wish to lead you to a grave.” The last word was drawn out, nearly whispered, and heavy with innuendo. He could just picture the cutting words bouncing about her tongue. Would she forgo her training and release them? Doubtful as she was so good at her role. Sliding his finger over, he hooked it around a strand of hair and slowly ran it along its length, lifting it from her shoulders before it reached its end and it fell back in place.

“But a gentleman ought never leave a lady on their own,” he quipped with a smile that was genuine, though most saw it in an entirely different light. He lowered himself to sit, his left leg bent in front of him to accommodate her thin form as his right foot settled along her right leg, his knee propped up along her side. A hand supported him behind her back, his thumb just inches from her backside as his free arm balanced on his knee, his fingers close enough to brush her again should they stretch out. “I’m out here to offer you my services… the time is no issue.” He sought out her gaze, tilting his head as he awaited the shine of anger he anticipated in them. Flashes of her spirit made her quite lovely.

Leaning in, knowing that his physical proximity, it would take little effort to pull her into his embrace, would likely garner him a brilliant response, he lowered his voice again. “What service would you require of me, my lady?”

[Linette Durand]

MY INTEGRITY WAS SOLD
PRIZED AND PLACED UP ON A SHELF, WORTH ITS WEIGHT IN GOLD

Sizing up the boy in front of her, she found herself wanting to hate him. He was everything she resented in the world: a powerful pureblood male who would go on to have a respectable pureblood marriage, the very sort she would be forced into soon after graduation. It was the one thing that could make her wake up in the middle of the night (or what was left of it during the few hours she slept) drenched in cold sweat. The future. She feared and loathed it. A lifetime spent as an accessory to someone else, there to carry on the line and raise the heir. She was more than that, she was so sure she was more than that. Who was top in at least half of the lessons in their year? It wouldn't be put to much use once she left the halls of Hogwarts.

And yet, she couldn't fully commit herself to hating Kieran Prince. There were aspects of his personality that grated endlessly on her nerves, but she could recognize a good mask if anyone could. Their society created dual individuals, it seemed. In front of anyone who mattered he was a perfect gentleman. Behind the scenes, in those rumors that always seemed to make it to the student authority figures that were the last people intended to hear them, he was known more as a skirt-chaser, a flirt. Perhaps she wasn't the only one with post-graduation anxiety about how planned the entire life of someone with high standing was. She couldn't judge that though. After all, Slytherins were cunning. That was one of the key traits the sorting hat sang out every year for the tiny first years who trembled as they waited for their turn to sit on the stool and be quartered off for the next seven years.

Although at the moment he wasn't helping his case any. Had she literally bitten her tongue at his tone, it would most certainly be bleeding by now. Her jaw was clenched for a moment before her face smoothed out. During the night, she could normally enjoy some peace and quiet and not worry about maintaining her image, the carefully crafted veneer of the well-mannered socialite. Having invaded the small bubble of personal time she had managed to create for herself over the years, he was also seemingly putting his best effort in to goad her into slapping him. Could people actually feel anger burn them? She liked to think so during every blasted dinner party her parents held. The endless chatter that said nothing at all, networking and gossip, she found herself wishing that she could light a fire beneath her wealthy peers and watch them come to life as they attempted to escape. When he touched a strand of hair that fell in front of her face she was wishing him all of the hate-burns in the world.

That would actually be quite a useful spell if someone would only invent it. When the adrenaline levels spiked, fire could be directed at the cause. Her hand twitched, a subconscious reaction as she longed to pull her matchbook out, the impulse she always had when she had to behave in a situation she disliked that was out of her control. As it was, all she could do was turn her head away from him, staring out at the dark lawns. People were so afraid of the dark, it was almost elemental, like they were born in fear of it. She wasn't so much afraid of the dark itself as what it represented: the unknown. Anything could be out there tonight, vicious creatures in the forbidden forest or even a nightmare of a person lurking just out of sigh.

Linette allowed herself a brief scowl before turning to face Kieran again. She might already have a nightmare on her hands with this one. "Well then, do let me know if you see a gentleman around here at this hour, I will be sure to seek his company out." She followed her comment with a demure smile and a wide-eyed stare, just innocent enough that she could claim ignorance if she chose, though she knew neither of them would buy it. As 'the first day of the rest of her life' drew ever close, she found herself testing her boundaries more than usual, walking a fine line, verbally. Faced with a future tied down to a nameless man and nameless children, her temper spikes had become more frequent, her need to burn more insistent. Even being shown up by a classmate in a lesson could set it off, that nagging desire to set the room ablaze, gain some semblance of control over her own life.

As the oldest son of a pureblood family, Kieran was also headed for a loveless proper marriage and continuing his family line, but he at least could have a career, a life beyond. Perhaps not at the rate he was going currently. At this rate, he was much more likely to die in a horribly tragic way on the eve of his graduation, particularly if she could find a way to channel her anger that would appear entirely coincidental. "I...you're..." Uttering the phrase you're an arse, while therapeutic for her own temper issues, would not help her situation any. Her eyes flashed, her hand visibly twitched again, but she couldn't form a response for another long moment. She longed to move her long brown hair in front of her face, to at least create the illusion of privacy, or better yet put actual distance between them to give herself a moment to calm herself down, but she remained still as a statue. "Pardonnez-moi? Je crois vraiment que j'ai dit que j'étais tout à fait parfait tout seul." It wasn't a very clever line at all, but ignorance was always a good option when playing the good socialite. She had no accent, having been raised in England, but her mother had still taught her the language she was using to evade giving a straight-out dimwitted response in English to contain the diatribe she longed to throw at him.

[Kieran Prince]

Provoking Linette Durand into showing him more of the girl behind the mask was increasingly more difficult. Keeping up appearances had been so damnably ingrained in her; she was ever the more proficient at recovering each time. Not that that would stop him. Kieran enjoyed the glimpses he did manage to finagle out of her, more so than he probably should. Other witches almost always wore a face closer to the truth. A bit of antagonizing on his part and he’d soon know which were as dense and air headed as they appeared, which were as indifferent to the world around them, and which would hex him without a second thought; the last being more a Gryffindor trait. And while there were always a few, like Linette, that hid a more enticing persona regardless of their house, none interested him as much as the inwardly seething spitfire he was close enough to to feel her body heat emanating off her.

Another pleasant thought, once he thought of it and let his eyes trail down her shoulder.

However, her knack for being quite the actress was making him work exceedingly harder to get the results he desired. At this rate, he just might have to shock her by resorting to full out loss of restraint to get that mask completely off. Kieran knew he shouldn’t be this interested in seeing her behind the face they had to bear, but he couldn’t help himself. Prim, mindless pureblood princesses for breeding abound and being thrust at them, entertaining them as if to distract them from the examination that both knew was truly going on was more than just a distasteful farce, there was no joy in it. He could find a doll to wed and it would hardly be any different. And while it could be possible to marry one of the bolder, Gryffindor types, there were limits to the standards of the Princes and their immediate circles. Doing so would be capitulating to the horrors expected of him.

No, he found a measure of pleasure out of Linette he hadn’t found with others, even if he knew it was decidedly one sided. Before he was forced to commit to finding a suitable bride, he was determined to enjoy what time he could gain with a witch that challenged him, resisted him, and had such an intriguing mystique about her. Just when he thought he found another way to knock her mask askew, she found one to slam it back in place. It was becoming maddening. Had she no clue what game he was really playing at? He wouldn’t lie and say he wouldn’t mind pursuits he normally got out of easier prey, they were a knut a dozen, but that wasn’t his primary goal. And for a witch who seemed oblivious to his aims, she did a fine job of curtailing him.

Kieran thought he was doing good, she had a lovely retort, and then even seemed on the verge of stuttering with words unbecoming a lady weighing down her tongue… and then she was back to Miss Durand, Head Girl. He couldn’t stop himself. Any one of his actions or words should have given him more than that, and as she threw her ladylike gentility back at him, in French no less, his laughter bubbled up until it escaped him, his head shaking as his mirth finally faded into the darkness of the lawns. “And who’s to say company couldn’t be as good? Especially if it’s the right company?”

He chuckled lightly, knowing she was likely gripping her protective shield like her life depended on it, proverbial knuckles turning white. His eyes locked on hers, looking for that lively flash in them that would confirm his suspicions. It was there, she already gave him a taste of it, but that seemed to be all he garnered, little samples. How much more would he have to do to get a nice, clear picture? A larger chunk of the Linette tucked away from society? Would he have to become more direct? Kieran would really rather not, but she made the game harder each round and he only had so much patience.

In the heat of the moment, he decided to risk a different tactic. Leaning in towards her ear, his cheek barely avoiding brushing hers, which really wasn’t new, but he enjoyed the proximity all the same, Kieran whispered in a voice he rarely used… his real one, his serious one, untainted by hints of desire or devilishness, but frank and soft. “You’re very good at that you know... perhaps better than myself.” Slowly sitting back, he held her gaze, waiting to see a spark of recognition, curious as to whether she would notice him shifting his own mask aside and how she would react to it if she had. It was a risky move, and one he hadn’t attempted before. When running out of maneuvers, one sometimes had to go in directions less desired.

[Linette Durand]

MY INTEGRITY WAS SOLD
PRIZED AND PLACED UP ON A SHELF, WORTH ITS WEIGHT IN GOLD

Morality was such a tricky, fickle concept. Telling people who irritated her where they could shove it, or telling her less intelectually capable classmates that they were nothing more than monkeys who had learned the basics of grasping a wand for the purpose of a lesson in school would probably be considered "wrong" even if her statements were entirely correct. Being told that she could never amount to anything beyond managing a home and raising a pureblood heir was entirely incorrect, but acceptable in the eyes of society. The key term in that phrase was could, and like a Ravenclaw she tore it apart, analyzing it. In true technical terms she could do more in life with her intellect than serving as a broodmare and managing an estate for a husband that wouldn't love her. She could study and further her education after Hogwarts, she could have a career in one of several fields she showed sufficient aptitude in for at least moderate success. The appropriate word for that phrase that people never seemed to use was "would." She would never amount to anything, even though she could amount to something.

She had never cared much for morals. She'd tried to set the broom shed on fire last year when she was told that her first week back home would be spent attending various social engagement with her peers, a set of girls trussed up in the latest fashion with as much intellectual capacity as their teacups. That had been dangerously illogical of her, that was the only worrying thing about it. She had been caught, as expected with something that large. It made her wonder if a part of her wanted to be caught, wanted someone to recognize that she wasn't what she presented to the world. She had been unusually candid with Professor Katon when he shooed the irritable caretaker away, but he was a professor she never had a problem with, an intellectual. But being truly seen for what she was, someone more powerful than many who strutted through the castle as though they owned it, as though they had a right to proclaim themselves the best without even facing off the competition.

That seemed a common trait for both Gryffindors and Slytherins, proclaiming themselves the best in their own subversive ways. Another common trait seemed to be their phenomenal ability to get under her skin. She was obligated to tell people to leave Sabine Montgomery alone because it had been her who had stumbled across her attempt to set the broom shed alight and not mentioned it to any professors. It was damn difficult to keep people from mocking her when she made it so easy, stuttering like a fool any time an older student was in front of her. If another person was apparently endangered she would act at once, but when it was her own skin on the line she became unbearable to be around. Linette couldn't stand people with no backbone. The usual Gryffindor trumpeted their achievements to anyone who would listen, regardless of whether or not the achievements were legitimate and the person was interested.

Slytherins were more subversive. Like the one sitting entirely too close to her, they were cunning, not as abrupt and 'in your face,' to quote a common term, as the average individual in red and gold. "Excusez-moi? If I didn't know better than to think such things about a gentleman of your stature, I would say that your tone is entirely too forward to be considered appropriate." Appropriate, like morality, was a tricky word but it could be useful in situations like this when applied correctly. Kieran actually had the nerve to chuckle after his comment, like he knew exactly how much she wanted to throw a lit match at him for invading her personal time and baiting her like that. Come to think of it, he certainly might realize exactly what he was doing in baiting her, which led her to question why he was doing it. Hoping for some sign of life that ought not to be there to hold over her head for who knew what? It seemed the sort of thing a Slytherin would be after. Thank goodness for her self control.

Linette was sitting still enough that, had there been light around to illuminate her where she sat under the tree on the lawn, passerby might question whether or not she was real or simply a statue enchanted to look quite lifelike. Like rephrasing things into questions to disguise the true intent of the words, the phrase "if I didn't know better" was quite useful, but his proximity was still forcing her to literally clamp down on her reactions for fear of slipping up. It was his fault. The blasted Slytherin had come out into her personal bubble, without the light of day and the accusing stares of her peers to remind her to control herself she was left entirely to her own will. The fact that darkness covered the area ensuring no witnesses were she to haul his body over to the lake to dump it was more tempting than could possibly be healthy.

His next words actually startled her. Not the indignant response to his double entendre, a genuine surprise at what he had said. And he sounded...strange when he was saying it. Not as cocky and self-assured. Her instinctual response was to suspect a trick and come out swinging, but he had startled her into movement, shifting in her spot and flexing the fingers on her right hand yet again. That habitual response to a perceived threat or an unpleasant situation, her dominant hand longing to relieve the tension and cleanse her mind by reaching for the muggle matchbook that had remained undetected by the ministry trace when she was underage. "I-I'm sure I don't know what you mean." She looked away. Had she just stuttered? Oh damn. Just...blasted Prince, trying something different to throw her off, that was what it must have been, but she had reacted. Her hand twitched again. Now the cover for a body dump was twice as tempting.

[Kieran Prince]

His grin became more feline as he held back the chuckle that wanted to escape his throat. She was correct after all, he might occasionally speak that way to some poor cornered debutante thrown at him when he could safely sequester her away from the protective eyes of their parents, testing her to see if any spark of life could be ignited behind her doll like, glassy eyes. Linette had never been one he could do so with, she understood that much of his game and forced him to be the consummate gentleman when social engagements threw them together. Her Head Girl title wasn’t a mockery of her intelligence, in fact he would contest that she was the only witch fitting the position. There would be more social entanglements in their future, and he enjoyed the dance he initiated with her, the push and pull of their wills, her effectively taking the lead long enough to change his course and prevent his advantage. Perhaps others would have lost interest with her, but it egged him on all the more. Kieran wasn’t one to back out of a challenge. If this was her way of trying to sway him from his objective, it wasn’t going to work nearly as well here.

“So you’ve thought about me?” he quipped, turning her phrase around to his purpose. Her posture had made it very clear she didn’t appreciate the invasion of her personal space, but then that was part of his plan. She was so stark still, it seemed the slightest breeze could knock her over. He chuckled lightly to himself, pleased he was at least still garnering some reaction out of her. In her mind, he imagined all sorts of improprieties were flitting about her thoughts, namely curses, hexes, and the odd vulgarity meant to sting him if only he had a thinner skin. Again, he wondered what it would take to provoke the dam holding such indelicacies to burst and allow them to flow free through this lovely shell harboring such fierceness. Her eyes still smoldered and it was the sight of that that truly encouraged him to continue this battle of wills.

The turn of tactic had been unplanned. To be perfectly honest with himself, it was probably bordering on desperate, his need to see that side of Linette making him act brashly and lowering his own façade, it rank of giving her more than he wished just to tickle more out of her. It felt oddly like making a concession and it niggled at him, it was uncomfortable at first, and he almost decided to completely throw that angle out the window, determined to not make even a conscious slip again, that is, until he saw her reaction.

Linette Durand… stuttered.

Oh, this was good. She could have the satin lined dagger of a tongue in class, any many would accept the lashing graciously, oblivious to the sharpness hidden beneath her lady like sweet coating. But never could he recall seeing her of the iron wil flustered to the point that lovely tongue of hers lost the ability to stab. While that delighted him enough to encourage him to reconsider his recent thoughts, and try out more of this set of tactics, it was the addition of her looking away that sealed it. He could risk throwing his mask a little askew if it knocked her this off balance. They were alone, she was the epitome of secrecy, and so he figured he risked little as far as any of this going beyond the two of them, so he left the unreserved smile on his lips and looked down at her hand, which twitched, giving him an idea.

Slowly, he reached over and took her slight hand in his, sliding his fingers under her palm and lifting it up as his thumb began slowly brushing against the back of her hand from wrist to knuckles, his touch light and undemanding, completely uncharacteristic of his usual attention to ladies hands. He didn’t bring it towards himself, but merely lifted it where his hand wouldn’t brush her, didn’t press his lips to her knuckles or give it just that small amount of pressure that hinted at possessiveness in his grip, instead he seemed to almost be petting her, placating her. It was a new, albeit pleasant way of taking her hand and as he spoke next to her, his voice retained the unguarded, softer tone from before that had drawn such a surprising and desired honest reaction from her.

“You know perfectly well what I mean, Linette.” His eyes were fixed on their hands a moment before he finally lifted his gaze to hers. “All the pretense, all the faces… you’re a far better actress than I am an actor.” He smiled warmly, no hint of the devilish grin that usually unhinged the young witches on which he preyed to be found in it. If giving her glimpses like this would give him access to the Linette hidden beneath, he would chance it, for now, and see where it leads. Then it slowly faded into one even he couldn’t identify. “Do you never tire of it?”

[Linette Durand]

MY INTEGRITY WAS SOLD
PRIZED AND PLACED UP ON A SHELF, WORTH ITS WEIGHT IN GOLD

"Did I say that?" She raised one delicate brow when he said that she thought about him. She was quite sure she had said no such thing, and that she would never allow such a degrading sentence to leave her lips. Linette Durand had better things to do than think about Kieran Prince and his strange obsession with irritating her and leaving implied double entendres where they weren't wanted. She had no idea why he was so interested in getting under her skin. He seemed for all the world a respectable pureblood in front of people who mattered. And for those who didn't matter but had more than an ape's wit, he was a skirt chaser, willing to turn his charming grin on any unsuspecting female without quite laying down with the mudbloods. She had an interesting grapevine of information in her position.

No, she certainly didn't give him any more thought than was absolutely necessary. She had thought of him on occasion, only because he made it so necessary with his constant attempts to get under her skin whenever the two of them were alone together. If looks could kill, her eyes would have burned through him years ago, reducing him to smoldering ashes before he could do so much as blink in surprise. That would be a satisfying victory, watching someone whose entire purpose when he was near her became "being an irritant" melt away and crumble into ash. It wasn't that he had done anything particularly warranting murder, beyond the obvious. But being able to destroy something in her life, break out of the mask she had created and remove an obstacle instead of standing still and putting up with it, that would be a relief.

The tension that built up in her system from standing aside and taking the orders of idiots time and time again was what created her need to burn. She didn't need to burn all the time, but after dinner parties where she was paraded about like a trussed up Christmas ham she would be out on the grounds after the guests had left, setting stray leaves afire. Burning made her feel strangely...happy, though that made no sense. Well, it did in a way. Linette lived a life controlled by others, but fire had no control, it burned wildly in a euphoric rush of adrenaline and power. She longed to burn her parents house, and the houses of their society friends, to watch their entire institution crumble down in flames. Sometimes she set fires just because she could, because there was a rush each time she saw it start and eat away at its surroundings, burning without passion.

Fire didn't judge, it had no rules. It was a beautiful thing, the flickering orange glow of an open fire. Beautiful and free. It was the only thing that made her feel real, reassured her that she was a person rather than a prize to be auctioned off by a set of overbearing parents. Deep down, she longed to set her society shackles ablaze more than anything else. She was the queen of falsehood. She could lie through her teeth without blinking or breaking a sweat and could feign proper social skills until she was blue in the face, but she couldn't pretend that her parents saw her as anything more than an asset. They didn't love each other and they certainly didn't love her. So when she was feeling the stress of her life - stress that Kieran seemed determined to increase exponentially with every encounter - there was only one thing she could turn to.

He took her hand, holding it up between them. While his grip wasn't demanding or even particularly tight, she became defensive. Like a turtle retreating into its shell she stiffened until she was stock-still again under his surprisingly gentle grasp. Strange situations were stressful, and stress was the biggest trigger for her need to burn. She felt her skin heating up and her hand twitched again. Blast, no doubt he'll do his very best to twist it into desire for him and his proximity rather than an interest in setting this whole tree ablaze. She was clinging to his mask as something familiar. She didn't particularly like either the dully polite pureblood or the cocky skirt-chaser, but one would always face the devil they knew than the devil they did not, and this situation was no different.

Ugh, what in blazes was she supposed to say to that? This was exactly why she preferred the personas she was familiar with. Both were unpleasant, but she was more than used to verbal venom, carefully tailored to seem just polite enough to be hovering on the edge of that invisible line. "Kieran," she began cautiously. Even as still as she was, she still wasn't quite on balance. Using his first name was another new twist. She usually did her best to avoid using his name at all. Using it would create familiarity, while his surname might be considered rude. So avoid it entirely, that had worked out fairly well for her. "You assume quite a lot. Even if what you were saying had any merit, were I a good actress, I would not simply fall apart because you insinuated something about me, would I?" Her heart was beating out an uncomfortable samba against her ribcage, a demanding and nerve-wracking tempo. Rather than answer him, Linette looked him directly in the eye, attempting to convey without speaking that her life would be easier if he would be so kind as to combust in front of her. She wasn't going to let him bring her down and satisfy whatever perverse pleasure he got out of tormenting her.