[FIC] Playing With Fire: Theodore/Morag :: gift for the community! Title: Playing With Fire Author: Recipient: The Community! Pairing: Theodore Nott/ Morag MacDougal Rating: R Word Count: 3214 Warnings: Language, Mind Games, Bit of Plot (sorta), Some mentions of D/s, Masturbation...things of that nature. Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended. Summary: Theodore Nott has a burning obsession for bitchy, stand-offish Morag. A game is created, and played out...whether she wants it or not. Author's Notes: I had loads of fun writing this. And it's set up in such a way that if people like it, it could become a novel length fic. I hope everyone in the comm likes it... obviously it's not everyone's cup of tea. Also: Morag actually speaks in Scots. Much as Irvine Welsh's characters in Trainspotting. I could have done it in English, but I feel it takes away from her character. If you have difficulty reading something she says... it helps to say it aloud.
Chapter One: Where there is smoke…
Morag MacDougal wasn't the happiest of people. In fact, she'd always been miserable as far as any of her peers knew. She had a mouth more filthy than the lowest drunkard in Knockturn. If you accidentally brushed against her in the corridors she shoved you so hard into the wall you saw stars. She fought the Slytherin fliers on a nearly regular basis. She had never had a friend, everyone avoided her and she seemed to like it that way. If she spoke it was to say something vicious and cutting. She thought everyone beneath her and annoying, idiotic even. No one understood it. She was a well-looking girl: short, petite, and dark. She was pretty… when she wasn't scowling at passers-by. It made no sense to anyone why one of the prettiest girls in Ravenclaw could be, in short, a bitch. However, all of that was about to change.
Theodore Nott was a rather unusual Slytherin in the opinion of his peers, even if only because unlike his housemates, he didn't brag about his blood or his money. He wasn't a bully. He kept to himself and was often seen reading or studying. He was not friends with the likes of Draco Malfoy and he seemed to be in school for the sake of learning and not the worthless drama of a boarding school. He wasn't exactly the approachable sort, but he didn't try to break noses if you knocked into him. In fact, it seemed as though it was rare for anyone but himself to exist in his world.
He was strange, no doubt of that, but he was thought to be, generally, harmless. A plainer sort of young, he was of pureblood, and wealth so he was much desired by the girls of his house. But much to their dislike, he never seemed to notice. What no one saw, because they didn't bother to look, but Theodore's dark eyes turned now and then from the dusty text of the ancient book in his hands to a huddled form nearby. He blinked and the figure of Morag MacDougal became clearer. She was different and Theodore had increasingly become curious to know her over the months since the Dark Lord had officially come back. She was a bitch and she hated everyone, but Theodore had a plan.
He'd spent weeks watching her, observing her, and formulating what it was he would do. He wanted to get inside her head, break down the obvious walls she'd raised and see what was behind them. It was, in a way, an obsession of sorts, and when she was near nothing could deter him from staring at her. She burned with fire and he wanted to see what remained when the fire cooled and the ashes were exposed for what they were. He wanted to do this for his own amusement. He wanted to break her. And he wanted to make her want him… because she wanted nothing but to be left alone. The first part was the most difficult… because he would need to get her to let him in. But it was time to begin and he knew it would take awhile, but he was determined to accomplish his goal by the end of second term.
Theodore moved in during Muggle Studies. Professor Carrow was raging about witch hunts and Theodore had managed to come in late enough that the only available seat in the room was next to the broody Ravenclaw. He slid beside her and set his book on the wooden desk as he listened to the rant. Quietly, under the pretense of taking notes, he scooted a centimetre closer to the girl who tensed noticeably and moved away. Seconds later, when she reached for her quill he stretched his right hand so that it touched hers. She drew away as if burned, and glared at him, which he ignored and resumed writing. When she looked away he smirked and slid his parchment closer to Morag. It had begun.
Morag was having a bad day indeed. First, she'd gotten detention at breakfast for hexing Tracey Davis for attempting to imply that she needed a makeover and then she'd had to work with Michael Corner in Runes and he'd accidentally mixed up the stones and forced her to receive a low mark for inaccuracy and now Nott was harassing her on purpose! He slid a piece of parchment to her and she sighed in frustration and looked down at it. What now? In a sprawling but steady hand were written the words:
You look really pretty today. Might I ask if you'd like to take a walk with me later?
-T. Nott
Morag furrowed her brows as she read the note. What the hell was he playing at? Then she realised he was most likely calling her ugly and being sarcastic and the rage seethed within her, spreading through her veins until it boiled over. She dipped her quill so hard she splattered ink everywhere and scribbled furiously before shoving the note angrily to her deskmate.
Unless you have a death wish, Nott, stay the fuck away from me.
Theodore read the girl's reply and chuckled softly before responding and passing the note back. She was playing into his hand already, as predicted. He heard her growl and he smirked, keeping his eyes trained on Professor Carrow who was now berating Su Li who had tried correcting her teacher about something or other. Next she'd likely blow up and the next phase would begin. And surely enough, he was correct. Morag's neck cracked loudly as she turned her head towards him and said loudly, with a voice full of anger:
"Nott! I swear t' Merlin if'n ye don' leave me alone I'm goin' t' fuckin' kill ye!"
Professor Carrow stopped mid-rant and flew to their desk, seething as she glared at the Scotswoman. "MacDougal! Detention! One more outburst from you and you'll regret it, girl! I would expect better from someone of such a prominent background! My office! Ten tonight!"
Morag bit her tongue so hard a drop of blood seeped through her closed lips and she glared death at her parchment. The bell rang and Morag stood up sharply, knocking over her chair in the process. She corked her ink, shoved her things into the black bag she always carried and stormed away. Theo laughed softly and put his things, and the note, in his own bag and walked out of the room. She had lunch next and he had no intentions of relenting yet. So he entered the Great Hall and sat down across from her at the end of the Ravenclaw table. He said nothing, only ate his food and stared at her, delighting in the fact that she repeatedly glared at him and scowled as darkly as she could manage. She wouldn't be able to remain silent much longer, and the thought sent shivers through his body as he bit into a chip.
What the hell was going on?! Morag was confused and angry. Theodore Nott was becoming a pest. She didn't understand it at all. He was writing her notes in class and getting her in trouble. He was sitting at her table and staring at her! It was not to be borne and as soon as she'd managed to swallow some shephard's pie, she rose and stormed from the hall.
Unfortunately, Nott was right behind her. But Morag refused to play his game, whatever it was. She kept trying to ignore him. Anger and curiosity were getting the better of her, however, and after several more minutes of Nott walking silently beside her, she cracked once more. Turning, she grabbed him by the hood of his robes and shoved him as hard as she could against a wall. He looked down at her, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. Morag took him by the throat and pressed her fingers against his artery.
"Whae th' fuck is yer problem, Nott? I tol' ye I dinna want ye near me… why are ye still here? Are ye brain dead?"
When he did not respond, her anger grew and she pressed harder, her free hand balled up to hit him. But she wasn't prepared for the Slytherin and soon found herself pressed against the wall, Theodore's large hand around her pale throat, his eyes boring into hers as he leaned in and whispered darkly against her lips:
"I asked you a question. I want an answer."
He said nothing else, but he did not step back. Morag's chest rose and fell against the boy as she tried to calm down enough to think how to get out of this. But his hand on her throat and his lips so near hers were making her feel other things that she did not want to think about, let alone feel.
"Go tae hell. I'm nae fallin' fer some Slytherin prank… Ye call me pretty an' ask me tae go on a walk wi' ye? I'm nae daft."
She shivered when Theodore began stroking her neck with his long fingers and the sensation brought her back into herself enough to struggle but then the fingers closed around her and pressed until she had difficulty breathing. It felt like poison rushing through her veins, setting her nerves alight with new sensation as it took her breath. He was looking into her eyes as if he could see through them and into her head. She could feel his breath on her lips and she felt herself being taken over by lust. But she wasn't going to let this happen and if his body hadn't been pressed tightly against hers she'd have kneed him in the bollocks. But when she'd moved her thigh to try to gain an advantage she'd felt something entirely unwanted swelling against her skirt.
"It isn't a game. I fancy you. And I want my answer MacDougal."
His eyes were burning with such intensity that Morag thought he was either completely mad, or he meant it. Her head was aching with questions but she wasn't going to give into him. She hardened herself and spat in his face. He withdrew from her as quickly as he'd pinned her and she fell a couple inches and stumbled. She hadn't even realised he'd lifted her up. He took a handkerchief from his trouser pocket and wiped her spit from his face. He smiled softly, bowed, and walked away. Morag blinked and stared after him, shocked. What had just happened? She still felt his bruising fingers on her throat and briefly she ran her own fingers over her flesh, shaking with emotions both identifiable and not. So much confusion and so many questions. She ran after him.
"Nott! Nott! Whae th' hell wis tha'?"
Theodore kept walking, his spirits high. She had fallen for it. And now she was chasing after him! He didn't stop. He simply turned down the stairs to the dungeons and acted as if she did not exist. He disappeared into his common room without a word, leaving her speechless behind him. He heard Morag punch the wall as it shut and laughed, sat on an empty sofa. Next thing to do was stay out of her way completely for the next couple of days until her head exploded from pent up confusion. Then he could continue.
And for once, she'd not know what hit her.
Chapter Two: Playing With Fire
Morag had spent two days trying to get to Theodore Nott to figure out what the hell was going on. Nothing made sense and she was going mad with unanswered questions. Every time she'd tried to approach the Slytherin, he'd avoided her. She was highly confused. He'd started all of this and now he was acting as if he didn't know she existed. Well… Morag had had enough. After Charms one day she waited until he'd left the class before grabbing Nott by the wrist and dragging him into a dark, empty corridor. She slammed him against the wall and glared up at him.
"Th' hell is yer problem, Nott? Whae wis tha' th' other day? Tell me now befair I hurt ye."
She was riled and Theodore felt the fire rise in his veins. He smirked and looked down at the petite hellcat. She really was goddess-like when she was angry. Breath-taking even. He wasn't going to say anything quite yet. This was his game after all, not hers. And so he let his hands snake up her sides, which caused her to tense and a flicker of uncertainty to cross her dark eyes. He let his snakelike fingers run over her arms and delighted at the gooseflesh he raised there. He could just picture her nipples hardening beneath her robes and blouse. When he got to her hands he gently pried her fingers from his shoulders and lowered hers, entwining their fingers as he stared down into her nearly-black eyes.
What the hell was he doing? Morag was so confused. He was holding her hands and staring down at her like she was his lover but with something more sinister in his eyes. It scared her and Morag didn't like being scared. In his eyes she saw desire, lust, and a burning need to have her. He looked mad but at the same time it was drawing her in. No one had ever looked at her like this… not even Marcus when she'd dated him. This was mad. And it was for her. He smirked darkly… like he was winning something and the Scotswoman came back into herself. Anger flooded her and washed away the feelings of lust that had risen in her own blood. She struggled, trying to break loose from the Slytherin, cursing his name as she did so.
He'd almost had her. But no, that'd be giving up too easily. As nice as he was sure it'd be, Theodore had been building this up too much to let that happen. Then she struggled. There it was. That anger and fury. Morag didn't like being trapped. She was like a wild Thestral that way. She couldn't be held. But oh he would. And when he did…when she finally gave herself to him… it'd be the most divine experience he'd ever have. He let her go. Didn't fight. Just…let her go. She was surprised and he smiled at the vulnerability in her wary gaze. He didn't move for a long while until finally he reached out and grabbed her hair, pushing her into the cool stone wall. Her cheek was pressed against the rough of the wall, as were her breasts. He pressed against her, letting her feel what she was doing to him. She gasped and swore and it only made him harder. He licked the shell of her ear before nipping the lobe sharply, causing another gasp.
"You're not going to hurt me, lovely. And you know it. We're playing a game, didn't you know? A game you won't win. I'm not going to tell you the rules and I am certainly not going to tell you what sort of game this is. All you need to know is that it won't be over until I get what I want. And I -will- get what I want. You think that no one sees who you really are…what you really need. Well I have, pretty devil that you are. Harpy that you are. Your secret's out and you're no longer safe."
She tensed, speechless, and he chuckled softly before using his knee to pry her legs apart. He let his hand fall between her parted thighs and let his fingers stroke her sex which was hot and wet. She couldn't help it and he knew it. Another point. He moved aside her knickers and inserted a finger. She writhed, trying to break free but she was trapped. This wasn't part of the plan but he couldn't help himself. He pressed himself harder against her body as he moved his finger deeper within her scalding folds. She was like poison and he wanted more. He inserted another finger, loving the way she gasped as he did so. His cock was aching, wanting more than the rubbing it was getting through his trousers. Every nerve in his body was alive with sensation as he fucked her with his fingers. Morag's breathing was heavy, her body responding despite her efforts to fight back and it only drove him on harder. And he was so close to coming… it was too much!
Morag was lost. Her mind a haze of pleasure and anger. She couldn't escape and the feel of Theodore's fingers inside her were driving her mad. She needed to go. She needed to get out of here. She didn't want to play his game. She didn't want to be a part of it. She didn't want him following her. She didn't want this… and yet she couldn't stop her body from wanting it. She was so wet she could feel herself dripping down her legs. She was so close to orgasming that her body was trembling. She could feel him rubbing against her arse. She knew that he was using her for his own pleasure. Hated him for it. But more than that, she hated herself for letting him. And then… he whispered an order in her ear and she fell over the edge, hearing him fall with her.
"Come for me. Come for me NOW!"
She tensed with her orgasm as he did behind her. For a moment she stood, catching her breath and shaking from the come down. After a moment he withdrew his fingers, causing Morag to moan softly. She could hear him licking his fingers. And then he moved, releasing her. She turned, looking up at him, still dazed from his touch. She blinked and noticed the wet spot on his trousers as he buttoned his robe. "Ye… Ye…Ye're fuckin' dead, Nott!" She stepped away from him, reaching into her robe pocket for her wand. But he made no move to defend himself. He only laughed.
"No, I'm not."
He turned and walked away, leaving Morag behind so angry that he heard her skin split and her bones crack as she punched the wall he'd just trapped her against. He laughed again as he made his way to the common room. He'd make sure to send her flowers and a pain potion when she got back from the hospital wing. She was as good as his already… she just didn't know it yet.