Blowing Hot And ColdAuthor: inamacCharacters/Pairings:
Narcissa Black/Charity BurbageRating:
Fans, mysophiliaOther Warnings:
minor bloodplayWord Count:
Narcissa asks a senior student for help with her Muggle Studies homework. Author's Notes:
Back in March last year I started writing a story to the alternate pairing prompt, and then got overtaken by Life and took a hiatus. The 'everything old is new' theme gives me an excuse to resurrect the story. Different pairing, a slight twist on 'fans' and a skewed take on mysophilia - to a Black you can't get any dirtier than the Muggle world.
PS. Mods, we need a Charity tag – sorry!Blowing Hot And Cold
"And before my next lesson you are to research Muggle methods of cooling and heating their homes without the use of the appropriate Charms. I shall expect at least a foot of parchment on the results of your efforts – with personal experience and examples where possible. Often it is only when one comes to record such experiences that one may understand the true nature of the difficulties that Muggles have in attempting to copy our simplest charms. Class dismiss."
Narcissa cleaned her quills, blotted her notes and packed her books and instruments back into her satchel. She was meticulous in the care of her things and was therefore the last to leave the classroom to make her way back to her House with the satchel swinging from her shoulder. She glanced guiltily around, but neither Andromeda nor Rab ware there to enforce her mother's strictures on proper deportment. Only Lucius and Igor and that smarmy oik Barty were gathered in front of the carved arch on the otherwise blank stone wall that indicated the entrance to the Slytherin dungeon.
Foregoing the dubious pleasure of running the gauntlet of their lascivious gazes she turned back towards the stairs and sought temporary refuge in the girls toilets. With luck...
"Ooooooh! Hello, blondie! Someone's looking for yoooooh!"
"Well they'll have to go on looking," she said, in imitation of Aunt Walberga's acid tones.
The ghost, that awful girl who hung around the loos, appeared to have no House affiliation, which made her a useful messenger for those who could stand her moaning and her dramatic tantrums. "Don't you want to know who it is?"
"No." Narcissa hooked her satchel on the back of the cubicle door, hitched up her robe and dropped her knickers. There were some things much more important than schoolwork, ghosts and boys.
The finality of Narcissa's words and actions had their intended effect. The ghost sniffed and vanished, leaving Narcissa to continue her ablutions in peace.
Refreshed, she adjusted her clothes, picked up her satchel and stepped out into the corridor. She had not needed to question the ghost further, if 'someone' was looking for her in the girls toilets the candidates were very few in number. She did not need to practice Divination to know who it was, and where she might now be. She smiled secretly, remembering her Muggle Studies homework. Perhaps some practice, though not of Divination might be useful, and with a partner to help record the results. Students were usually expected to carry out assigned work in their common rooms or dormitories. Narcissa really did not want to try this particular task where her sister and other students might be watching. Merlin knew that having a quiet wank in your bed after lights out could prompt an sudden Lumos!
and giggles from the third years. Use of Muggle methods of 'heating and cooling', at least of the sort she had in mind, would be a thousand times more humiliating.
Her undirected steps had brought her to the seventh floor of the castle where the 'Black Elephant' tapestry hung. It was named not for its subject matter (which recorded an incident reputed to have happened during Barnabas Black's tenure as Wizarding Ambassador to the Troll Moot), but for the fact that it had been a gift to the school by a seventeenth century Black ancestor who had been unable to keep up the cleaning and animation spells on it.
She stroked the nose of the small troll at the edge of the picture (the tapestry was wearing thin there, where passing students had brushed their robes against it, in addition to generations of Blacks who knew the secret Opening Charm), and slipped through the door which appeared in the opposite wall in response.
The room she entered was, she suspected, charmed to adapt itself to the needs and wishes of its occupants. When Bella had taught her the secret method of opening the door the room that they had entered had probably been much as their original Black creator had intended, high ceilings with huge pendant circular iron chandeliers, dark oak linen-fold panelling on the walls, a cold stone floor, wan daylight filtered through tiny leaded light windows. A blazing log fire in the marble fireplace. Austere and ancient.
Now, though, the place was full of light and warmth, white-painted walls, thick woollen carpets, bright artificial light from strange glowing spheres. The fireplace held a small metal contraption, with glowing bars of light emitting enough heat to take the chill from the winter snows visible through large plain glass windows.
It was a Muggle room. She wondered how much was due to her need to complete her Muggle Studies essay, and how much to the person now lying prone on the bed, nose in a magazine and bare legs bent at the knees and pointing to the ceiling, toenails painted a vivid green. Narcissa gave a little shiver.
This was dangerous, and dirty, deliciously so. Having revealed a Black Secret to anyone outside the Family might have her burned off The Tapestry. Revealing it to a Mudblood, even one who is a witch, and especially one assigned to Hufflepuff House, would definitely do so. And if they knew what she and the filthy Mudblood were doing... Well, Aunt Walberga might not stop at burning The Tapestry.
She crossed to the bed and ran a finger down the reader's naked back. She turned a page of her magazine, feigning nonchalance, but Narcissa saw the tense of her buttock muscles, and the curl of her enamelled toes.
"Hello, Char. I got your message."
Charity Burbage turned the magazine face down on the bed to save her place and rolled over to look up into Narcissa's face. "So you did." She smiled. "Classes finished for the day?"
"Yes." Narcissa dropped her satchel by the bed and unfastened her robe to throw it beside Charity's on one of the chairs. "Except for some Muggle Studies homework." She leaned over Charity and gave her a tentative kiss on the lips. "I was hoping you'd help with that."
The older girl laughed. "You've come to the right place. And the right person. What's old Smithy set this time?"
Narcissa was about to answer, when her hand landed on the discarded magazine. The paper was glossy, quite unlike the parchment and vellum or lightweight charmed newsprint that she was used to. Muggle filth. She ran her fingers over the strange slick surface, along the sharp edges... and winced. "Ouch!"
Charity caught her hand and inspected the thin line of blood welling from her finger. "Oh," she said, "A paper cut. You should be more careful, Ciss." She touched her lips to the cut, then drew Narcissa's hand down, drawing a line of blood between her breasts and down to the pool of her navel.
Narcissa watched, unaware that her own lips had parted, and her tongue was curled with excitement.
"So?" Charity asked, "What's your homework?"
"Heat," Narcissa whispered, feeling it curling through her groin. "And cold. How Muggles make them. Without magic." There was a smear of her blood on Char's lips, and she could not tear her eyes away from it.
Charity laughed. "They just touch a switch," she said. She had guided Narcissa's fingers down to her clit and now she arced into the touch. "Muggles have a special magic called Electry City to make light and heat and cook. They just have to flick a switch and their magic happens." She demonstrated by reaching out to the circular metal caged device which stood by the bed and touching a toggle. The thing growled.
Narcissa started and reached for her wand to perform a defensive spell, and stopped as a cool breeze caressed her heated flesh. "That's... amazing," she exclaimed, though not from the effect of the fan.
"Muggles have some great ideas. It works without having to remember a spell. For as long as you want. And you can use your wand hand for other things." She demonstrated, drawing Narcissa's wand hand back to its task at her crotch. The fan whirred, cooling the path of her fingers, blowing Narcissa's long pale hair back into Charity's face as she knelt up on the bed to facilitate their embrace. "Good?" she murmured.
"I..." Narcissa was confused. It was
good, the touch and the cool breeze, but the source of the breeze made her skin crawl with more than cold air. It was Muggle and it was alien and it was filthy. And it was delicious.
She wanted more, and Charity obliged, working her hand under the waistband of Narcissa's knickers and pushing them down, so that the air moved over the pale hair of her own womanhood. She gasped. This was nothing that she had ever felt before, that any pure-blood witch had felt. Untouched, save by the air propelled by the alien machine, she arced into Charity's support, and rode her first, pulsing orgasm.
"I don't think," Charity's voice seemed to come from a long way away, "that you should put everything you've learned about Muggle cooling devices into you essay."