bakerstreet | The Mistletoe Meme

[This is what happens when you strike a deal with a dark wizard for the sake of going after a common enemy. It's bad enough they had to play this game, this undercover "dress up all nice and fancy and accompany one another to the target's Christmas party" game, but there are some lines Gretel just isn't willing to cross no matter how great the bounty.

She throws a glance up at the mistletoe above before fixing him with a look that was less than pleased.]

Don't push your luck with me. Remember, I know exactly what you are.

How could I forget, when you mention it at least twice a minute. [He'd roll his eyes, but they're supposed to be dating, if not in love (and he laughed himself stupid the moment she left the room after they struck this deal), so instead he lets them smoulder a little as he leans down.] Just think of all the other things I could be pushing, instead.

[Repulsive. It takes every strand of her being not to recoil when he leans in, but really, this is what she signed on for. Well, maybe not this, exactly, but nothing would draw people's attention faster than a woman glaring at her "beloved" under the mistletoe.

With the end goal in mind, she lets his comment roll off her back. Lets the tension fall from her jaw as she forces something akin to a smile, then leans up to gently (barely) press her lips to his.]

[He loves watching her fight the situation. He can see her revulsion warring with their cover, and when her lips make the poorest attempt at a kiss ever, he chuckles.]

Pathetic. No one will believe that.

[So he kisses her properly, a hand on her back and one under her chin, the kiss deliberately slow and sensuous.]

[Very properly. It takes a lot to catch Gretel off guard, but Rodolphus does it with this kiss. Seemingly without even trying, he manages to make it captivating and very real. Before she knows it, she's entangled in it, with nothing to do but close her eyes and nudge further into the kiss with a slight part of her lips.

Somewhere, her brother is either laughing or gagging. Likely both.]

[Somewhere, her brother is keeping a sexy little secret of his own and has no room to argue. But here, Rodolphus is quite thoroughly kissing Gretel the Witch Hunter, his lips and tongue teasing hers, begging for entry to her mouth, and when it's granted, he wastes no time in deepening the kiss further. Pulling her closer, he lets his fingers move gently from her chin to her jaw, before sliding back over the smooth skin of her neck to delve into her hair.]

[His lips and tongue are more persuasive than she cares to admit, and by the time his hand drifts to her hair, her own hands venture to rest low against him, fingers gently pressed just above the place where his shirt tucks into the waistband of his trousers. His taste is a perfectly intoxicating mixture of wine and spice, and it isn't until she needs to come up for air that she remembers where they are. Who they are.

They have a job to do.

Her lips fall from his yet she remains close, eyes heavy, breathing labored.]

We...need to split up. See what we can find.

[Her fingertips are hot through his shirt, and he's glad he wore his jacket open, the better to feel the eight tiny points of heat where she can't keep from touching him. Rod smirks as her breath comes too fast against his lips, and he moves his mouth to her neck, tasting her skin. When he speaks, it's low, his voice rumbling beneath her ear.]

We certainly do, sweetheart. Smile for the other guests, that was quite the performance.

[His tone tickles her ear, sends tingles down her spine as she puts on a smile that actually, surprisingly, looks quite genuine.

It isn't. Still, it remains in place as she pulls back enough to run a soft finger along his jawline.]

You work the crowd, darling. I'm going to the ladies' room.

[An excuse to snoop around upstairs while putting enough distance between them to get her head back in the game.]

[She might feel his jaw tense at the falsely tender touch, but his smile is as much for show as hers, and there's a hint of something dark beneath it. He's not a nice man, but he's very good at his job.

His hand lingers on her ass in a possessive gesture, before he lightly pats it to send her on her way.]

Hurry back, angel. We've got people to meet.

[Starting with the blonde in the red dress that's just slightly out of date.]

[It's a small victory, knowing her touches could make him bristle. Of course, she isn't surprised when he rebounds by putting a hand on her ass. If they didn't have eyes directly on them, particularly those of the striking blonde, she would have shoved him away, job or no job.

Instead, she lets him have his handful before she pulls away to set about her business. She (very loosely) trusts him to keep the woman preoccupied. After all, it was his clout and charm that successfully got them through the door. It'd be her stealth and guile that would successfully get them out.

She's back ten minutes later, idling up beside him, the pilfered stone tucked away on her person as she slips a hand between his.]

Miss me?

Desperately, princess. [He drops an apparently affectionate kiss on her temple as large fingers curl around her hand, squeezing twice - one short, one long. Outcome?]

This is Avalina, our lovely hostess. I was just complimenting her on her beautiful home - did you know she has an entire library of rare texts? [Really rare. The sort he wouldn't mind getting his hands on.]

No, I had no idea! That's fascinating. [Except it isn't. At least not tonight. She squeezes back once in response. Yes, I got the stone. And then another longer, harder than necessary squeeze. We are not here to steal books. Let's GO.

Whether or not he would capture all that from a rough squeeze is anyone's guess. Avalina, for what it's worth, appears to be none the wiser as she launches into a pretentious rundown of her library's history. Little does the hostess know she's got quite the audience in Lestrange.

The worst part is, Gretel knows she can't leave without him. While she's got the stone, he has the magic needed to tap into it and destroy it. When Avalina turns to gesture in the direction of the library, Gretel takes the opportunity to shoot a look up at her companion. Come on...]

Indeed. [Rod nods in all the right places, making sounds of approval as Avalina waxes lyrical about her library - and yes, there are things in there he'd really, really like to see.

But he's not stupid, and the tightening of his fingers around hers says, We just got here. Do you want to raise suspicion? Play along. He catches her look, pulling her closer to his side.]

Perhaps you'd be so kind as to allow us to view it? I've heard wonderful things about your collection; it's hardly festive, but when a woman such as yourself throws open her home, it seems a shame not to avail oneself of the opportunity.

[Flattery, the chance to quietly copy a book or two, and maybe to piss Gretel off more. She looks stunning in her dress, it shouldn't be wasted.]

[Okay, fair point. Now that the hostess has given them the formal introduction to her home, to turn around and suddenly disappear would be worse than if Gretel had continued to bicker with Lestrange under the mistletoe.

And as she's tucked against him, her mind can't help flashing back to that particular moment from earlier. All heat and tongue and sensations she has no explanation for other than the fact it had been a very long time since she'd gotten that close with anyone. And now even his cologne is messing with her senses. Christ...

By the time Avalina had given them her blessing to explore her collection, Gretel's actually grateful to have an excuse to drop out of the spotlight. Once they're in the library, she presses her back against the large, wooden door and casts a daunting look up at the endless rows of shelves.]

Well. Good luck trying to find whatever you want in here. Do you even know where to begin?

[It would look worse, at any rate. Whether it would actually be worse would depend on her opinion of angry men. Most people don't like him when he's angry, but there are one or two who do. And she stays next to him, which is interesting...]

Princess, you picked me for a reason. I know exactly where to look for what I want.

[He turns to face her, palms flat on the door on either side of her shoulders, and gives her very thorough once over. Blue eyes rake over her, taking in every dip and swell of her body, and by the time they lift to hers, they're dark with lust, and he's leaning in to kiss her once more.]

[If ever there was a strikingly handsome man, it was Lestrange. It was evident even from afar, but having him close like this made it undeniable. But if there's anything that could send Gretel springing into action, it's being cornered by a witch. Or wizard, in this case, no matter what desirous feelings may be stirring in the pit of her stomach.

Her eyes are locked on his, lips parting seemingly in anticipation of the kiss that's about to come, before they pull back in a tight sneer. She jerks her head to the right and brings an arm up between them, roughly shoving him away. Indeed, she's well aware of his temper and wouldn't be surprised if he has an adverse reaction to being rebuffed. However, Gretel's been on the bad side of witches and wizards for the better part of her entire life. What's one more to add to the pyre?]

Stop it. Just get the damn books and save the bullshit for your wife.

[Not that she believes for a second that he's a faithful husband. Still, the fact remains: He's married, this is a job, and he needs to stay focused. As does she.]

[His anger at her refusal makes him beautiful for a moment - and then it fades as disgust twists his features.]

Don't talk about my wife.

[Her shove does little but make him shift his weight, and he moves away at his own pace, only his eyes lingering on the curve of her lips betraying where his thoughts still lie.

Pointing his right arm out into the room, Rodolphus casts a silent - and to all appearances, wandless - Summoning Charm, whereupon four very old books come flying towards him. He plucks them from the air with ease, then fishes in the pocket of his sharply tailored suit jacket. Moving swiftly to a desk, he rapidly enlarges four tiny, blank journals with a wave of his right hand (his wand is in a sheath in his sleeve, he knows better than to take it out with her around, and if she tries to take it, she's in for a very nasty surprise) and begins muttering rapidfire Latin over both piles.]

...we have ten minutes for those to finish copying. Do what you like, but don't leave the library.

[She'll can't make an issue of his wand, not when she has her own hidden weaponry - a 9mm strapped to one thigh and a dagger strapped to the other. However, she will make an issue of him thinking he has room to tell her where to go and what to do. A silent issue by way of a nasty look and a deep scowl, but an issue just the same.]

Contrary to what you may believe, I'm not an idiot. Leaving your side once was risky enough, there's no reason for me to do it again. But we do need to get a move on. This thing is starting to burn and I feel like the longer we stay here, the sooner someone's going to catch on to the fact that we have it.

[This thing and it being the stone, neatly tucked away in the bustier of her dress.]

Any ideas on where we can go to destroy it? I'd say do it here if I didn't think it would bring the whole place down on us.

They're not going to catch on, angel, unless you weren't careful. [Murmured in an irritated undertone as he leans against the desk, hands in his pockets. He's the image of relaxed aristocrat, not caring for his suit and completely at home among the rare and expensive. It's not a cultivated façade, he comes from this sort of society, but it's definitely useful, should anyone happen upon them.

Of course, his happy little accomplice probably shouldn't be leaning against the door - it might seem odd to anyone else entering.]

There's an abandoned manor house two acreages over. It has a cellar I took the liberty of preparing two days ago, and no one will hear or see anything. I hope you're not scared of fire, princess.

[It takes heat to kill heat, in this instance.]

Scared? [She couldn't tell if he was joking, considering her and Hansel's fondness of fire was pretty well-documented. Still, she pushed away from the door, a somewhat devilish grin tugging at her lips as she approached.]

I can tell you from many years of experience that the best way to kill a witch or a wizard is to set their ass on fire. So no, I'm not afraid.

[She then moved to walk around him, making it a point to gently brush her arm against his as she passed.]

Glad you prepared the space, actually.

[A joke of her own. Maybe. She'd probably do well not to provoke him with thinly-veiled threats, but she's never been one to mind her P's and Q's with a person of magic.]

I'm aware of your penchant for manageable flames. This is a little more dangerous than that - but I'm sure you're more than capable of... handling yourself.

[He lets her brush past him; there was no need for it, there's an abundance of space, but she's clearly in a mood to play with more than the aforementioned fire. Rod lets his gaze linger on the curve of her ass in her dress, letting the heat of his gaze do his talking.

She's feisty, and he wants her, but taking is no fun. No, she has to give.]

Sweetheart, I know you don't think I'm stupid enough to work anywhere you've prepared. Your exploits aren't exactly a secret among those of us with power.

I'm glad to hear my reputation precedes me.

[A lie. More often than not, the notoriety she and Hansel have among magic types made their jobs more difficult rather than easier. She's surprised no one at the party had caught on, but then again, this is a house of dimwitted demons rather than witches and warlocks. Save for Mr. Pureblood, of course.]

That said, I don't think you're stupid at all. [She turns to face him before moving to sit on the arm of the reading sofa.] Actually, the fact that you don't trust me goes to show how smart you are. And really, I hope you don't think I'm stupid enough to recruit a stupid wizard. I mean, I love a handsome man as much as the next woman, but honestly...

Your body language suggests otherwise, princess.

[Notoriety is correct; he knew precisely who she was and what she did the moment she made contact. He hadn't expected her to be attractive to him - attractive, yes, but not attractive to him. Rod usually likes his women a little more ladylike in their presentation... but he still wants her.

He does like a little bit of danger in his women, too.]

But thank you. [He doesn't bother hiding his perusal of her figure as she sits, sparing a quick glance for the copying process before returning to linger on the curve of her hip. He has no shame in displaying interest, even when it's double-edged.] I really hate to be judged on my looks and not my abilities.

['Ladylike' certainly isn't an adjective that could be applied to Gretel. While she isn't boorish, her lifestyle has left her rough around the edges, slightly foulmouthed and unpolished in her appearance. However, the fact that she's able to pass as one of the prim and proper princesses expected to be on Lestrange's arm goes to show just how nicely she can clean up her act.

At least for the time being.]

Don't thank me, thank Merlin. Or whatever entity you pray to, because if you weren't smart, this would be a different scenario entirely.

[Meaning, they wouldn't be here and she wouldn't tolerate him staring at her like a starved dog after a steak. Although, her tolerating it now says more about her than she'd ever care to admit. She shifts under his gaze in a way that exposes her thigh through the slit of her dress. Whether it's a show of skin or a show of arms is anyone's guess.]

I don't think I've seen the full range of your abilities, though. Unless kissing and copying books are the extent of what you have to offer.

The Mistletoe Meme

What an awesome HP OC!

Thank you!

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Apologies, life swallowed me!

Life is prone to doing just that. <3

Unfortunately.