Barty Crouch, Jr. is not Oedipus Rex. (culling) wrote in blurred_lines, @ 2008-11-16 23:39:00 |
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Entry tags: | ! [1979-11] november, ! npc, barty crouch jr |
Who: Barty and Genevieve!
Where: Room 1440, La Chatalaine, Mayfair.
When: BACKDATED to Friday night, 14th November 1979.
What: Julien's going to live and Genevieve is very, very thankful.
Rating: PG-13ish for Genevieve being French and skanky sensual.
Status: Logged! May or may not actually be done, but it kind of needs to go up. Let's pretend I haven't had ridiculous computer troubles this week.
Admittedly, Barty had been rather worried when Marius had asked him to heal a friend's injuries and could not (or would not, Barty had briefly considered) describe them past "they are beyond his sister's skill." True enough, Barty had more formal training and likely more reading in healing texts than Julien's lovely sister, so Marius's description could have easily meant that Mademoiselle Chevalier was simply in over her head with relatively minor injuries -- but fate was a funny thing in that way and, as it happened, not only was she over her head, but Barty had good reason, he thought, to believe that he, too, was handling things beyond his skill level. Somehow, though, he had managed to keep calm; Healer training, it seemed, was having positive effects on his ability to step back from a situation and to manage it objectively, and, besides that, Julien was Marius's best friend. Barty would have wanted anyone entrusted with saving Regulus's life to do so to the best of his or her abilities and, with books secured from Olga, a rather complicated and taxing combination of mild surgery, charm-work, and transfiguration, and potions secured by or made with ingredients secured by Barty's charming assistant in this ordeal (because Mademoiselle Chevalier was quite charming, even while her brother was suffering from injuries that could have proven fatal for other people), he had done his best for Julien.
It had not been easy but, in some backwards, convoluted sort of way, it had been fun, staying in this hotel with Julien and his sister, skipping work and dueling practise, and delving headlong into the healing arts without any interruptions -- as little as Barty needed challenging things in his life, he did genuinely enjoy them, and accomplishing this was certainly challenging -- and, finally, it looked as though Julien's condition was both stable and out of the utterly murky woods known as 'critical.' He would need to be monitored and on borderline bed rest for at least a few weeks, but he was not in danger of suffering an untimely death any time soon, provided he actually listened to Barty's warnings about all of the various painful ways in which he could (and likely would) die if he did not do so.
Now, Barty had given Julien a phial of Dreamless Sleep with his supper, so that he would at least mind his injuries for the time being, and, after a fairly grueling week, Barty was quite ready for a well-deserved break. Julien would live, Marius would be pleased, and Barty could be quite content with the job he'd done saving Julien's life; everybody won.
Genevieve was beginning to hate England. Stupid Marius and his stupid war and now her brother was hurt and she was stuck here in this gray hellhole, and unable to so much as step a foot outside of her hotel room for fear of leaving Julien alone. The only thing that had made her time here remotely passable was Barty's company, and for that she was incredibly grateful. When she had first seen Julien she was convinced it was the end of him, but then Barty came, and he made things better, and nearly a week later it looked as if Julien would recover.
She had seen Barty give her brother the Dreamless Sleep Draught with his dinner, and she tucked him into his bed gently, before kissing him on the forehead, singing him a French lullabye, and heading out the door of his bedroom into the rest of the suite. Barty was still there, staying in case Julien should take a turn for the worse, and she took the seat next to him on the couch.
"He will live, oui?" she asked, resorting to English so Barty would feel more comfortable.
Although the situation was hardly one that warranted smiling -- oh, yes, a young man, best friends with Marius, had nearly died for little apparent good reason; that was a wonderful reason to smile -- Barty smiled ever-so-slightly, just as the reflex he had learned as part of comforting family members, next-of-kin, and other important persons of that persuasion. That was how it went: the bad news was delivered with a straight, serious face until everything was explained, at which point one offered one's sympathies and apologies, and did one's best to make everything as painless as possible, for the patient and his family; the good news got a polite, hopeful, but still respectful (and cautious, in case things changed course abruptly) smile. And, after this ordeal? Mademoiselle Chevalier deserved as much of a comforting smile as Barty could manage.
"Oui, mademoiselle, il... il réchappera de..." Even after this week, being (unfortunately) his multilingual father's son, and having been best friends with Regulus for so long, Barty's French was still pathetic, but, he figured, Mademoiselle Chevalier's first language was not English and she was yet making concessions for him. It was only polite to attempt to do the same.
"My apologies, once more, Mademoiselle," Barty said quite genuinely and with a contrite smile to match, "for my awful French. In either tongue: yes, your brother should make a full recovery from this incident. It will not be as quick a recovery as he might like, and he will need to listen to my orders regarding his partial bed-rest, lest he upset the healing in his lungs and make his condition worse once more, but he will live and he should be perfectly well by Christmastime, with no lingering pain or other side effects."
Genevieve hadn't noticed it until now, distracted by the thought of losing her brother as she was, but Barty had a certain unnoticed charm about him when gave her that genuine smile. She leaned closer to him on the couch, placing her hand on his arm.
"You should not apologize for anything, Barty. You have saved his life," she said. "You could burn the French flag before me at this point and I would think you were wonderful," she said, giving him a coy smile. "My family owes you much," she added, as she shifted closer to him still.
"I do not know how we will ever begin to repay you," she added, as she turned in the seat so that she was facing Barty more directly and could look him in the eye. "But I can think of a way I would like to thank you," she said, tracing her hand up toward his shoulder suggestively.
It had yet to cease amazing Barty, how much appreciative family members could exaggerate when in the throngs of relief; of course, it was true -- he had saved Julien's life -- but he rather doubted that Mademoiselle Chevalier's jest about the French flag was true in the slightest. It was, however, amusing, and Barty had to give Mademoiselle Chevalier a small chuckle. For one thing, it had been genuinely amusing, and, for another, Barty had not come even close to laughing for far too long -- since even before the Masquerade, at this point, as the girl with whom he had most wished to dance had not attended.
"You are very kind, Mademoiselle Chevalier, and astoundingly gracious, but your family owes me nothing," he replied, following her lead and turning to look at her more directly. "Any Healer who would not have come to your brother's aid and done everything he could do would hardly deserve to call himself a Healer. If you insist, I will insist in return that the best way to repay me would be to ensure that he listens to Healer's orders and does not worsen his condition."
Whatever was happening, Barty was not entirely sure, but he was entirely unopposed to it, for the time being. This conversation with Mademoiselle Chevalier was exceedingly relaxing, after what a week this had been, and despite the gentle (and rather stupid, Barty thought) protests of a niggling voice in the back of his head, one that seemed quite preoccupied with deeming something about this situation wrong, Barty saw no reason not to enjoy having a nice break from saving lives, no reason not to bring himself closer to Mademoiselle Chevalier. "I will take your thanks, though," he said gently. "My friends and mentors tell me that too much modesty is unbecoming."
Genevieve tilted her head slightly and gave him a sweet smile. "You should listen to them," she said. "You deserve much thanks," she said, enjoying the fact that Barty seemed to be relaxing for the first time since he had appeared here in the room after Marius had sent him.
He was closer now, and let her hand fall onto the top of his leg as she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. She felt some of her stress melt away as she closed her eyes and rose slightly to move her knee under her so she would be able to kiss him more easily.
...What -- oh. ...Oh! ...Well, then. So this was what kissing felt like; quite suddenly, it was no wonder that people made such a fuss about doing it. A rather considerable portion of Barty's mind was fumbling to find something, anything that could be wrong with this situation and, thus, make Barty inclined to stop -- for one thing, he was courting Anzhelina, and neither she nor Antonin would take to this kindly; for another thing, Jacqueline was Anzhelina's best friend and she was not known for being possessed with much mercy when it came to this situation; for a third, Regulus would no doubt have had some sort of apoplectic fit, if he were ever to find out about this; for a fourth, Mademoiselle Chevalier was Barty's patient's sister and, while he could not, off-hand, remember any rules regarding not doing inappropriate things with family members of patients, said rules certainly existed about not doing inappropriate things with patients themselves, and it seemed logical for their family members to be covered under the same heading...
...But, on the other hand, Mademoiselle Chevalier was French; she had different customs and the like, and Barty hardly wanted to be rude to her, especially not when she was, on top of being in a foreign country, distressed, very kind, and exceptionally pretty. Besides all that, this felt... well... nice -- adjusting his own position slightly, Barty tilted his head, to be more accommodating, and, operating in accordance with... something, parting his lips in welcome and running his fingers down her cheek.
Genevieve knew that Barty and Regulus were best friends, but she was glad to find that Barty was more open to her thanks than Regulus had been. He touched her cheek and she took it as an unspoken invitation to move closer still, raising up on her knees and letting one slide over his leg. He parted his lips and Genevieve did as well, swiping her tongue across his bottom lip before slipping it into his mouth. This was so easy, so right, not to be entirely focused on Julien. He would be fine, and now she could erase this whole terrible week from her mind by replacing it with something that wouldn't give her nightmares.
Barty was warm, and tasted like the chocolate and raspberries Gen had ordered to cheer them all up as Barty had worked on Julien all evening. She half-thought he had only taken a few because she pouted her bottom lip when he seemed too focused to take care of himself, but regardless, it was a nice effect. She moved a hand behind his head to tug gently at the hair at the nape of his neck.
Normally, Barty was not in the least bit describable as a creature of instincts; he took great pains to avoid being labeled as such, actually, having been raised with the notions that logic, reason, and the ability to rise above the more basic, primal urges in the pursuit of something greater than, say, 'want food, take food, have food' or 'want sexual gratification, take sexual gratification, have sexual gratification' was what separated mankind from the other members of the animal kingdom. He was rather intuitive, sometimes -- one had to be, in order to excel in Divination, which he had, even if Mother and Regulus had insisted that he drop the course for NEWT-levels -- and he did seem to have a talent for figuring out people, problems, and the like; but, overwhelmingly, his world view necessitated the presence of logic and guiding external structures, rules that he could operate within and around. Mother was caring and worried too frequently; Father worked too much and cared for little outside of the DMLE; Regulus kept secrets, read books rather than dealing with most problems, and practiced a rather blatant form of passive-aggressiveness; Antonin was kind and supportive, but had little patience for unnecessary and/or self-destructive shenanigans; Demetrius was not the brightest fairy on the Christmas tree...
But there was something charming, or perhaps, beguiling about kissing Mademoiselle Chevalier and the inherent utter lack of rules: Barty did not know any proper procedure for this process, and he could not control it either, but she did not seem to mind that; as long as he paid careful attention to her reactions and made sure that she was quite pleased with this, then Barty could hardly imagine that anything bad could come of this.
Gently following along after the guiding light of instinct -- and quite fervently hoping that it would not turn out to be an ignis fatuus and lead him astray -- Barty let the hand on Mademoiselle Chevalier's cheek fall to her neck while the other went to her waist, to ensure her stability in their current position and just because it felt rather right to have a hand on her waist. The tongue in his mouth... was, admittedly, a new sensation, but not one that Barty found objectionable and, unsure of whether this would help or hurt him in her estimation, he gingerly slid his tongue down hers, reaching towards but not entering her mouth.
...Well, even if it did hurt him in her estimation, she tasted very nice.
Barty didn't necessarily seem like he had a lot of experience kissing girls, but Genevieve was beginning to think maybe that was an English thing. The fact that he was responding already put him miles above Regulus in the kissing category, though she wasn't sure he'd want to hear that... at least not now while the kissing was still happening.
His hand on her waist sent a shiver of electricty up her spine and she gasped in the pleasant sort of way that catches you by surprise but is supremely enjoyable. It tickled slightly and she squirmed, edging her leg over his knee so she was straddling his lap. She let him deepen the kiss, pulling back slightly so it would be him kissing her instead of vice versa. This was nice-- very nice-- and she whispered something in French into the kiss.
There was a very good reason why Barty seemed not to have experience kissing girls: for all he knew about other, even more esoteric subjects, Barty knew absolutely nothing about romance, or kissing girls, or anything related beyond what he'd discussed with Severus and the fact that, whatever your intentions were with a young lady, you asked her father first.
He did know that, so far, his instincts were not leading him wrong; like everything else about this situation, having Mademoiselle Chevalier on his lap was a new sensation, but Barty quite enjoyed it, really. She was warm, and it was nice to be so close to her. And, even though she was pulling back, Barty got the inexplicable sense that she was not doing so because of anything that was wrong with the kiss or with Barty, or anything of the sort. Did she want him to chase her? Well, it certainly seemed as though she did, and Barty wanted to make sure that she was happy with the kiss; twisting his head a bit more, he opened his lips further and briefly stopped stroking her tongue, instead doing as she had with him and slipping his tongue into her mouth.
"Mmmmmm," Genevieve sighed contentedly into the kiss. This was nice. Barty seemed to appreciate her at least, unlike stupid Marius and his vapid bride. And she was more than happy to reward someone with enough decency to show the proper amount of interest in what she had to offer.
She let him lead the kiss, but she reached for one of the hands he had on her waist and led it up the front of her shirt to where the third button rested, just above her cleavage. She skillfully undid it and left Barty's hand there, so as not to completely spook him and end up with another Regulus on her hands.
The kissing was only getting better as the seconds passed, and she leaned against him more closely, glad for the comforting way he numbed all that was wrong with the world.
Oh, well... goodness. Barty had not been expecting that, but, unlike an unexpected turn in a duel, which was almost always translated to self-chastising and injured pride, this turn of events was much more interesting. He tried to manage things without breaking the kiss -- why would he want to separate from this? This felt good, and he'd waited this long until finding out, even with the knowledge that people his age had been doing this when they had been in school (admittedly, those people had been Mudbloods, and objectionable Halfbloods, and people who entirely lacked even bare semblances of self-respect, but the point remained the same), and just...
He had some inkling that this might have been improper, but seeing her topless was not sleeping with her and, as long as neither of them used the information in a negative attack on the other, then there was no harm in it, was there? She was beautiful, and beauty was meant to be appreciated. Delicately, with the sort of care he would have used to treat a sick child, Barty undid the other buttons of her shirt and, once they were no longer impeding his progress, put his hands on her shoulders and gently slid them down and onto her arms, nudging the shirt open and down as well.
She moved her arms, one at a time, to shrug her blouse off completely. Her bra was no worse than what she would wear to lounge in by the pool, so there was no harm in such things. Besides, this one was one of her favorites and it was entirely unfair that it would go unappreciated because of prudery. It had black lace with a tiny satin ribbon of gold woven through the top. Her undergarments always matched and she wouldn't mind at all if that fact was discovered by Monsieur Crouch as he was proving himself to be tres enjoyable.
It wasn't fair though, that he was still wearing his shirt while she was not, and she tugged at it gently so he would understand she wanted it off. To show him exactly what he was missing in terms of how nice it would feel if he conceded, she leaned up on her knees so that she would press against him tightly, tugging at his bottom lip for emphasis.
Oh! ...Oh! Well, all right then. It seemed that she wanted his shirt to come off and, really, that was more than fair; he rather hadn't waited before asking if he could remove hers, so it may very well have been just an act of courtesy to do the same with his and the fact that she was asking -- in a fashion -- before simply taking his off for him was, perhaps, a blessing...
...But, really, did it matter, the logic and reasoning behind everything they were doing? Between saving Julien's life, attempting to tend to Mother long-distance, borderline lying to Severus to protect the anonymity of the patient in question, and staving off the desire to break every bone in Clara Bauer's body and then leave her outside until sunrise, Barty had had an exceedingly trying week. He had earned -- he deserved -- some manner of recreation and, as he rather enjoyed this one, he was going to pursue it. Very briefly relocating his hands, he took the gentlemanly route and undid his shirt's buttons, sliding his arms out and letting the fabric fall, and -- oh, yes. Feeling her chest pressed against his was much better without the shirt between them; the improvement was readily noticeable.
That was much better. There was something comfortable and familiar about a warm body pressed against her own. She let both hands meet behind his head now so that she could kiss him more heatedly, and balance over his waist.
"We could move to the bed," she whispered as she pulled back slightly to look down at him. She let her hand trail down his chest suggestively. "I could thank you several different ways," she whispered.
This had been a terrible week, thinking that she would lose her brother, and knowing that Marius planned to be married tomorrow, and if she had to do something with all of those feelings she was going to make the most of them. Her life was out of her control in so many ways, but this was the one thing that was hers.
"No one has to know," she added, just in case Marius had warned Barty about Genevieve's tendencies toward this particular sort of recreation.
Marius had warned Barty of nothing with regards to Mademoiselle Chevalier, let alone any tendencies towards sexual proclivities; that said, Barty was exceptionally prone to believing the best in the people whom he liked and, even so, he could see now why someone would have warned him about this particular young lady. Had she not spoken, he might not have paused for thought at all -- everything about this situation was intoxicating and, besides that, pausing for thought was, it seemed, entirely antithetical to their ostensible purposes -- but the sudden injection of speech back into their exchange brought his instincts to a screeching halt while, still somewhat addled and dizzy from their suppression, his reason and his better knowledge came staggering back to the forefront.
Mademoiselle Chevalier meant to have sexual intercourse with him. The thought of this, truly, did not seem as daunting or as terrifying as he knew that, only a few months earlier, he would have considered it, but the brief pause gave him long enough to remember one very good reason not to indulge Mademoiselle Chevalier in what her whims had decided to desire. At his consideration of stopping this, he felt a lurching in his stomach, a nagging feeling to ignore the societally-imposed "reason" and just do the deed, but his grounds for ceasing were much stronger: Anzhelina.
"Mademoiselle Chevalier," he sighed warmly, with a strong hint of his reluctance, caressing her face with one hand and running his thumb down her cheek. "You are a very fine, an exceptional young woman, with very lovely qualities, and I have very much enjoyed our time together. You have been exceedingly patient with and good to me, and I don't wish to hurt your feelings, because this has been ... unbelievably lovely -- but I am afraid that my heart belongs to another. If such were not the case, then... I would be most glad to go to bed with you, but... I could not do you the disrespect. Of knowing you when I love another."
Hopefully, this would not entirely ruin things.
Frigid English Cows.
Genevieve forced a sweet smile to her face even as she contemplated kneeing Barty between his legs.
"If your heart truly belongs to another I find it difficult to believe even what we have done so far would be acceptable," she said gently, with the slightest hint of hurt evident in her slight pout. "Unless you were using me for what we have done up to this, with no intention of caring that my feelings would be bruised," she said, her bottom lip trembling ever so slightly as she sat back on her heels and looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes.
Marius would have seen right through this, and her brother would likely have been laughing at her act of innocence if he wasn't dead to the world, but Barty had no reason to distust the sad but hopeful smile she was still attempting to give him.
"I want nothing from you," she said, leaning back down to whisper in his ear. "I want to forget," she said, giving him several small kisses in a row from behind his ear to his cheek.
Oh, no -- she was upset. Worse than that, she was upset, and Barty had been the one upsetting her, and... oh, Merlin, what was he to do about this? The problem, he was coming to realise, with avoiding situations in which he upset people was that, when he was rather abruptly thrust into them, he had no idea what to do with himself and he was sorely without any idea of what he could do to make anything better. And she looked like she would cry, and just...
"I'm sorry, mademoiselle," he said, rather sadly. "It appears that I have forgotten myself entirely, and likely was using you, but I assure you, if you will believe me and I would not blame you if you didn't, that this was not my intention in the slightest. If I have led you on, or done anything else to impugn your virtue, please accept my sincerest apologies, I -- I have never even kissed a girl before, and I simply... it has been a stressful week for both of us, and you have been so kind, and... I am not normally so easily swayed by the inclination to be a such base and fallen creature, nor do I make a habit of misleading young ladies, especially not ones of your exceeding quality, but -- I fear I may not be able to apologize enough for being so cruel to you, but if I can help you to forget in some other fashion, I will."
Genevieve gave Barty a sweet smile as she moved gracefully off his lap.
"I believe you entirely, Barty. You have been so good to me and Julien. I am also having a stressful week, as you say, and was carried away with you. Of course, you meant me no harm," she soothed, having been taken in entirely by Barty's self-beratement. "You are wonderful to me," she sighed. It didn't sound like she was happy about it.