- Rating:
- PG
- House:
- Astronomy Tower
- Ships:
- Other Canon Witch/Other Canon Wizard
- Characters:
- Other Canon Witch Other Canon Wizard
- Genres:
- Romance
- Era:
- Unspecified Era
- Spoilers:
- Philosopher's Stone
- Stats:
-
Published: 03/31/2005Updated: 03/31/2005Words: 1,964Chapters: 1Hits: 756
Shades of Grey
Captain James
- Story Summary:
- Whenever the Grey Lady thinks of the Bloody Baron, he shows up. (Grey Lady/Bloody Baron)
Shades of Grey
- Posted:
- 03/31/2005
- Hits:
- 756
- Author's Note:
- This fic was written in response to FictionAlley’s Valentine’s Day OTP Challenge; I got "The Grey Lady is afraid of The Bloody Baron".
She swept along
the corridor with
anxious haste, not bothering to avoid gliding through students,
determined not
to let the fear that gripped her insides show on her face.
He had gotten
someone to cast a spell on
her, she was certain. A spell that allowed him to know when she was
thinking of
him. Adhibeo Recordor? That one was quite difficult to perform.
But to what
purpose? Why would the Baron
want to know when she was thinking of him? Just to show up at that very
moment
and scare her to second death? The Bloody Baron was known for taking
silent
pleasure in causing fear, but never in this fashion. He had only to
glide past a
group of students to see them scatter away like flies.
And in the three
centuries since she had
taken residence in this castle, he had never harassed her.
The feeling of
emptiness in her stomach
grew stronger. Why was he doing this? What was he going to do next? He
had been
playing this game at her expense for almost two weeks now. Surely he
had already
thought of a new level to which to take it? She shuddered at the
thought.
The counter-curse
for whatever spell he
had cast on her was bound to be in some book or another; all she had to
do was
pay a quick visit to the library. So why was she putting it off? It's
not as if
she enjoyed having him appear out of nowhere when she least expected
him. Not to
mention, she hardly ever passed up an opportunity to do some research;
she had
an eternity of free time.
The only
remaining solution to this
problem would be to stop thinking about the Bloody Baron. It shouldn't
be that
difficult. Granted, it had been difficult over the last twelve days,
but then
she hadn't set her mind to it. And she was nothing if not determined.
The plan was so
perfect in its
simplicity that her fear faded away in a second. Her smile was so wide
that her
eyes closed by themselves. All she had to do was stop thinking about
him--
She opened her
eyes to find a face in
front of hers.
Her eyes widened
in terror and the pit
of her stomach seemed to dive to her feet. The man before her did not
even
blink.
Fear seemed to
create a strange magnetic
force between her chin and her chest, for she could no longer hold her
head up.
There was a heavy, oppressive silence. The sensations that took hold of
her body
were more real than anything else she had felt since her death. Her
limbs were
ready to jump at the first order from the brain, but at the same time
they felt
slack. An almost prickling shiver spread through her body like
wildfire,
igniting every nerve end.
She was acutely
aware of the Baron's
presence in front of her, his eyes boring into her head, the rigidity
of his
ankles that prevented his feet from hanging limply, the golden trims of
his
cloak. And she waited. What next?
"Good evening,
young lady."
She almost jumped
out of her skin at the
greeting, her head automatically snapping up. Her gaze flickered
momentarily
over the hard lines of his jaw before dropping to the floor again. Was
he
expecting her to reply?
"Good evening,"
she said tentatively,
her voice embarrassingly weak.
"Am I so
repulsive that you can't look
at my face?"
She felt the
hoarse whisper brush the
top of her head, and shivered again. He was closer. "N-no," she replied
unthinkingly, her mind too busy dealing with all the intense sensations
that
were assaulting her body.
"Nevertheless,
you won't look at me."
What?
Her usually sharp mind couldn't process the words - a consequence of
fear,
likely, since she was always quick.
"Surely you don't
have a medical
condition that is affecting you neck? Your spine is always rigid when I
see you
around the castle - you even lift your chin slightly upwards."
"D-do I?" Why did
she feel the need to
fill the pauses in his speech with nonsensical stutters?
"You do. I have
been watching you."
Had she been
standing on the floor, her
knees would have given way.
"And so I have
come to the inevitable
conclusion that you find me aesthetically repelling-- ugly."
Ugly. Did that
make him angry? Would
he...relieve his anger on her in some way? And yet she could not help
but sense
some amusement in his tones. Did she dare look up?
Yes, she did.
She was
confronted by a cryptic smile,
but no words. He looked so different when he was smiling...almost nice,
and
certainly not as frightening as his previously permanent frown made him
appear.
He didn't seem to
be expecting words
from her either, so she took her time to examine his face objectively
and
impersonally in an attempt to dispel the fluttering feeling in her
stomach.
Items were methodically listed in her head: his features were rigid,
but not
unpleasant; his eyes were so pale that it was hard to say where the
iris ended
and the sclera began; his thin black hair was tied back--
"Tolerable, then?"
His voice pulled
her back to the present
situation. "Sorry?"
"Not repelling,
tolerable."
Was she expected
to agree? All
methodical or impersonal lists were
gone from
her mind. She did find his features tolerable now that they were
softened and
not pulled into a frown. In fact, she found them quite pleasing to the
eye, but
she was not about to tell him that. "One could say that," she replied
noncommittally, her voice much firmer now.
"You are not," he
said slowly,
carefully, as if expecting her to counter him.
She could not
help feeling slightly
offended at his words, but she knew better than to contradict the
Bloody Baron,
of course. Her feelings must have shown on her face, though, because
the Baron's
smile grew wider.
"You are, in
fact, a beautiful woman."
Right. Did he
think false flattery would
get him somewhere with her?
She gasped as
realisation dawned on her.
She might not have understood at first, but it was clear to her now.
The whole
situation was more than clear. The Baron was evidently trying to seduce
her.
"Listen,
Mr...Baron," she started, fear
quickly giving way under anger, " You may think I do not know why you
are doing
this, but your intentions are very clear to me. I assure you, I am most
definitely not a woman to surrender herself to the first man
who--"
"I beg your pardon?" The Baron's voice was dark, the smile gone from his face to be replaced by an intimidating frown, and he had risen a few inches on the air.
All anger in her
immediately vanished at
that, fear gripping her heart again with an icy claw, her chin dropping
back to
her chest. And she had thought she knew better...
The Baron's feet
slowly descended back
to their original place. "I was merely trying to make polite
conversation." His
hand reached out and took light hold of her chin, lifting it slowly.
His eyes
held hers, an intangible grip that prevented her from looking away. He
was no
longer frowning. "Am I to understand I am the first man, then?"
Affronted, she
drew back, breaking
contact. Anger and fear battled and mingled with each other in her
stomach as
she tried to suppress a sharp reply and replace it with a more
respectful one.
None came to mind, so she settled for a question. "First man to what?"
The Baron's lips
stretched again, this
time forming a smirk. "I do not know; I was only repeating your words."
His
smirk grew wider as he prompted, "Perhaps I'm the first man to induce
such
strong, bewildering feelings in you?"
Appalled at his
daring, she simply
stared at him. Her mind was racing, though. Even if it had been a while
since
she had felt such strong sensations, it was most certainly not the
first time,
and she wondered if a man was ever the cause of them.
"You look young."
The Baron's voice swam
through her thoughts. He had apparently decided the previous subject of
their
conversation was not proper enough, or so she thought. He was no longer
smirking.
"Yes," she
answered simply.
"And sad."
She blinked.
"Sometimes."
The Baron's gaze
dropped for an instant,
as if he were unsure of what to do next. "Do you..." he trailed off. It
was the
first time she had heard him pause hesitantly in the middle of a
sentence. He
lifted his chin a fraction of an inch and continued, more firmly now,
"Do you
wish you had lived longer?"
The question was
unexpected. She hardly
ever talked to anyone about her life, much less about her death.
Pondering on
the question for a moment, she finally decided to volunteer some
information in
hopes of getting some answers to her own questions lately. "No," she
started,
and realised talking about it would be harder than she had thought.
"I...I decided to take my own life in order to...end my
suffering."
The Baron's eyes
darkened. "That is
never the answer."
"I would have
died all the same, Baron,"
she said, ready to defend her decision. "I was very sick."
The Baron nodded
slowly, seeming to
understand--approve?--her past actions. He didn't say anything, and
neither did
she. It was a comfortable silence at first, but then the need to fill
it with
words or actions forced her to think of something to break it.
The Baron spoke
first. "I am afraid it's
time for me to leave. I do not wish to keep a lady from her day's
arrangements."
He reached out and slowly took hold of her hand, lifting it and bowing
down at
the same time. "I bid you good night," he said, closing his eyes and
kissing the
back of her hand.
The delicate
brush of lips against her
skin made her bones melt, and she had to press her tongue against the
roof of
her mouth to keep herself from gasping. It was over in a second, and
the Baron
pulled away, leaving her feeling bereft and slightly cold.
He released her
hand slowly as he stood
upright again, but she did not draw back. Tentatively, almost
fearfully, she
reached out and touched his forearm, sliding her hand up with
feather-light
touches, barely feeling the brush of his clothes, until her fingers
were
hovering over a big, amorphous silver stain on his chest. She waited,
but he did
not pull away. She shouldn't ask, she shouldn't--
"How did you get
these?" she whispered,
her voice barely audible. The Baron went still, his body tense, his
chest
unmoving. Cold terror washed over her; she did not dare to move or
speak, lest
she provoked a reaction from the man in front of her.
After what seemed
an eternity, the Baron
breathed out a sigh, his chest shrinking away from her hand. "Why do
you want to
know?"
She blinked,
raking her mind for the
right answer. Why had she asked? Curiosity had gotten the better of her
once
again. "I don't. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked."
"No, you don't,"
the Baron whispered,
his eyes boring into hers, and she wondered distantly what exactly he
meant.
He took a deep
breath and straightened
up, breaking eye contact with her. "I must leave you now," he said in a
much
lighter, indifferent tone.
"Yes," was all she could reply as the Baron turned away and disappeared through the opposite wall. "Yes," she repeated, already planning her moves for the next time she thought of him.