(no subject)
Title:The Balcony Scene: Take One
Author: esclaramonde
Rating: M (language, and implications of adult naughtiness)
Pairings/Characters: Katie/Marcus
Words: 1386
Summary: Katie has a late-night suitor, who is in for a big surprise.
Disclaimer: Marcus, Katie and the entire cast of Harry Potter belong to JK Rowling. Who I am not, in case you didn't realise.
Author's Notes: A bunny that attacked me, after jenszabo asked for my Marcus / Katie Balcony Scene. Whilst this was not the scene I had in mind, for some reason this one wouldn't shut up in my head. Completely un-beta'd and probably a bit crap. Polite Con-crit welcome.
Tink.
“Ghnnnnrhnnn”
Tink.
“Hmm... wstfgl”
Tink. Tink.
TINK.
Katie Bell sat bolt upright in bed. What in the sodding name of Merlin was that noise?
Tink.
“Bugger this for a lark.” Katie went to investigate. She wandered from the bedroom, scrubbing her face with her hands in an effort to waken herself. An effort that proved utterly unnecessary when she looked through her glass balcony doors. George Weasley was hovering over her balcony on his Cleansweep, throwing pebbles at her window. No - not pebbles, they were Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans. How typically George Weasley.
“What do you want?” she mouthed at him. George declined to reply, but pantomimed clutching at his chest and falling off his broom, spiralling down in a couple of lazy circles before floating back up to hover at her balcony and smirking at her.
Katie rolled her eyes. She really was not in the mood for Weasley Wheezes, and especially not at - she glanced at the clock on her mantel - 2.17am. Muttering the charm for her Magisecure lock, she opened the balcony door and stepped out.
“George!” she hissed.
“Katie!” he shouted.
“George! This is a sodding Muggle-zone. Will you get off your gods-damned broom and shut up!” George paid her no attention at all to her low, menacing tone. He started, for want of a better word, to sing. Or squeal. Or squawk.
“Katie Beeeeell, ma beeeeeeelle..... Oh Katie, so fine..... Oh Katie, my love, I’m here to make you mine.” As he reached the off-key ending of his little ditty he vaulted off his broom, landing on the balcony, right in front of Katie. He stumbled slightly, skidding on an errant Bean, righted himself and beamed at her. “Katie, my darling, it has all become clear to me.” He advanced on her with his arms open, while Katie tried to tentatively edge away from him. “I have had an epip-, an effip-, I have come to a realisation! You are the only woman for me. I have come to rescue you from your lonely prison and win your heart,” he declaimed dramatically, clasping Katie’s hands and bringing them to his chest. “Although, must give credit, Fred suggested that the best way to woo you would be to recreate the romantic balcony scene from those famous Muggle lovers, Romeo and Julianne,” he added as an afterthought.
Katie closed her eyes and began counting, taking deep breaths as she went. George, believing that she was overwhelmed by his romantic gesture, gathered her into his arms.
“Katie, my love. My Katie. My love, my Katie, my love.... Kiss me Kate.” Katie’s eyes flew wide open in horror to see George’s open mouth - Ewww - moving towards her lips. She started to struggle. Again, the Weasley brain seemed incapable of adding two and two correctly. He mistook her struggles for excited writhing. Suddenly Katie found herself entangled with a red-headed octopus, his every panting breath sending stomach-churning Firewhiskey fumes over her face.
“Problems, Katie?” Marcus Flint’s voice was rich with dark amusement as he watched her struggle with her drunken erstwhile suitor.
“None at all. Just a friend who’s a bit three sheets to the wind,” she replied. Katie took advantage of George’s surprise to duck out of his arms and take two smart steps towards Marcus.
George was gobsmacked, not that Katie blamed him. The sight of Marcus Flint was causing her jaw to drop and her mouth to go dry. Framed by her balcony doors, dressed only green silk boxers with a pattern of silver snitches and a white Oxford shirt that he had not bothered to button, exposing a delicious trail of dark chest hair and rippling abdominal muscles, his large lips in an open smile displaying those jagged and uneven teeth..... Katie shook her head, trying to come back to reality.
George, however, was no longer lost for words. Particularly nasty words.
“Flint, Katie? Not just a dirty-Quidditch-playing Slytherin, but Flint?!” Apparently George didn’t give a fig that they were in a Muggle-zone, shouting a torrent of ugly words. “I mean, I had a feeling you must have been getting pretty desperate, Katie, but this is an absolute low,” he sneered. “You didn’t have to go slumming, Katie, like all the other Quidditch groupies. I mean, if you wanted to get laid that badly, I’m sure any of your friends would have stepped up to the plate.” Katie was blinking back tears from his tirade. “I certainly would have given you a seeing to, if you’d asked me,” George made a lewd thrusting gesture to make his point.
Marcus was no longer amused. He grabbed George by the collar of his robes and thrust him against the wall.
“Apologise!” he snarled.
“For telling Katie when she’s behaving like a slag? No.” George was unrepentant, and apparently unfazed by the burly man on the verge of choking him senseless.
“You’ll fucking apologise to my fiancée, or I’ll throw you over the fucking rail!”
“Fiancée?” George whispered, completely floored.
“Fiancée!” Marcus growled.
Katie sighed, reaching down the top of her nightgown to fish out of her cleavage a platinum and sapphire ring, threaded on a fine silver chain.
“Fiancée,” she confirmed quietly. George deflated visibly, and Marcus loosened his grip, allowing the inebriated man to slither down the wall.
“I had no idea,” George murmured, more to himself than anyone else. Katie grinned ruefully at Marcus.
“I guess the cat is out of the bag now, right?” She played idly with the ring on her chain.
“About fucking time too,” Marcus abandoned George, who was still apparently shell-shocked, grabbed Katie by the shoulders and pulled her into a fierce, bruising kiss. He broke their kiss and took the fine silver chain between his fingers. With a quick turn of his wrist he broke the chain and slid the ring off. “You’re mine, Katie.” His voice was low, possessive, sending shivers down Katie’s spine. His fingers tenderly traced the edge of her face, tucking a strand of honey-blonde hair behind her ear. Almost reverentially, he slipped the ring onto her wedding finger. “You’re mine, and I want everyone to know that.”
“I am yours, Marcus.” Katie smiled, and brought the ring to her lips, giving it a tiny kiss. “And you’re mine, too.” With that she twined her fingers through his thick, dark hair, and brought his head down for another kiss, sliding her tongue through his lips and lazily battling with his for mastery of the kiss. Marcus groaned into her mouth. He reached down, squeezing her arse cheeks before hefting her up and bracing her against the cool glass of the door. Katie wrapped her long legs around Marcus’ waist and threw back her head with a moan. His tongue trailed over her heated flesh, from the gentle slopes of her pale breasts, under her collarbone and along her neckline, feeling her warm pulse racing beneath his lips. He nipped at the spot below her earlobe, and sank his unique teeth into her shoulder, leaving a mark like a brand, claiming her. Katie bent her head down, running her tongue along the shell of his ear, nibbling and tugging at the lobe.
“Marcus,” she murmured throatily, “take me back to bed.”
A scraping noise reminded both of them that they still had an audience. George had collected his broom, but not his wits as he stared at their display.
“This worthless excuse for a wizard had his hands on you, Katie.” She could hear the threatening note in his voice. She ran her fingers through his hair, grazing her nails lightly along his scalp, forcing his head to look up at her.
“Marcus. Forget him. Take me to bed.” She gave him a slow, sensual smile, filled with promise. “And then take me.” Marcus did not need to think her suggestion over.
“Sod off, Weasley,” he called, as he carried Katie in over the threshold.
“Bye, George,” came Katie’s voice, before giving the door a well-aimed kick and it slammed shut. Then, slightly muffled, George heard, “Bedroom, Marcus. Now!”
George mounted his broom wearily and began the unsteady flight home. He needed some Sobriatus Potion. He needed, desperately needed, a well-placed Obliviate. And he needed to go to Gringott’s tomorrow, to buy Katie the best bloody engagement gift he could afford.
Actually the first full piece of fiction I have written for several years, and the first fanfic I have ever posted. Please, be gentle with me. ;-)
Author: esclaramonde
Rating: M (language, and implications of adult naughtiness)
Pairings/Characters: Katie/Marcus
Words: 1386
Summary: Katie has a late-night suitor, who is in for a big surprise.
Disclaimer: Marcus, Katie and the entire cast of Harry Potter belong to JK Rowling. Who I am not, in case you didn't realise.
Author's Notes: A bunny that attacked me, after jenszabo asked for my Marcus / Katie Balcony Scene. Whilst this was not the scene I had in mind, for some reason this one wouldn't shut up in my head. Completely un-beta'd and probably a bit crap. Polite Con-crit welcome.
Tink.
“Ghnnnnrhnnn”
Tink.
“Hmm... wstfgl”
Tink. Tink.
TINK.
Katie Bell sat bolt upright in bed. What in the sodding name of Merlin was that noise?
Tink.
“Bugger this for a lark.” Katie went to investigate. She wandered from the bedroom, scrubbing her face with her hands in an effort to waken herself. An effort that proved utterly unnecessary when she looked through her glass balcony doors. George Weasley was hovering over her balcony on his Cleansweep, throwing pebbles at her window. No - not pebbles, they were Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans. How typically George Weasley.
“What do you want?” she mouthed at him. George declined to reply, but pantomimed clutching at his chest and falling off his broom, spiralling down in a couple of lazy circles before floating back up to hover at her balcony and smirking at her.
Katie rolled her eyes. She really was not in the mood for Weasley Wheezes, and especially not at - she glanced at the clock on her mantel - 2.17am. Muttering the charm for her Magisecure lock, she opened the balcony door and stepped out.
“George!” she hissed.
“Katie!” he shouted.
“George! This is a sodding Muggle-zone. Will you get off your gods-damned broom and shut up!” George paid her no attention at all to her low, menacing tone. He started, for want of a better word, to sing. Or squeal. Or squawk.
“Katie Beeeeell, ma beeeeeeelle..... Oh Katie, so fine..... Oh Katie, my love, I’m here to make you mine.” As he reached the off-key ending of his little ditty he vaulted off his broom, landing on the balcony, right in front of Katie. He stumbled slightly, skidding on an errant Bean, righted himself and beamed at her. “Katie, my darling, it has all become clear to me.” He advanced on her with his arms open, while Katie tried to tentatively edge away from him. “I have had an epip-, an effip-, I have come to a realisation! You are the only woman for me. I have come to rescue you from your lonely prison and win your heart,” he declaimed dramatically, clasping Katie’s hands and bringing them to his chest. “Although, must give credit, Fred suggested that the best way to woo you would be to recreate the romantic balcony scene from those famous Muggle lovers, Romeo and Julianne,” he added as an afterthought.
Katie closed her eyes and began counting, taking deep breaths as she went. George, believing that she was overwhelmed by his romantic gesture, gathered her into his arms.
“Katie, my love. My Katie. My love, my Katie, my love.... Kiss me Kate.” Katie’s eyes flew wide open in horror to see George’s open mouth - Ewww - moving towards her lips. She started to struggle. Again, the Weasley brain seemed incapable of adding two and two correctly. He mistook her struggles for excited writhing. Suddenly Katie found herself entangled with a red-headed octopus, his every panting breath sending stomach-churning Firewhiskey fumes over her face.
“Problems, Katie?” Marcus Flint’s voice was rich with dark amusement as he watched her struggle with her drunken erstwhile suitor.
“None at all. Just a friend who’s a bit three sheets to the wind,” she replied. Katie took advantage of George’s surprise to duck out of his arms and take two smart steps towards Marcus.
George was gobsmacked, not that Katie blamed him. The sight of Marcus Flint was causing her jaw to drop and her mouth to go dry. Framed by her balcony doors, dressed only green silk boxers with a pattern of silver snitches and a white Oxford shirt that he had not bothered to button, exposing a delicious trail of dark chest hair and rippling abdominal muscles, his large lips in an open smile displaying those jagged and uneven teeth..... Katie shook her head, trying to come back to reality.
George, however, was no longer lost for words. Particularly nasty words.
“Flint, Katie? Not just a dirty-Quidditch-playing Slytherin, but Flint?!” Apparently George didn’t give a fig that they were in a Muggle-zone, shouting a torrent of ugly words. “I mean, I had a feeling you must have been getting pretty desperate, Katie, but this is an absolute low,” he sneered. “You didn’t have to go slumming, Katie, like all the other Quidditch groupies. I mean, if you wanted to get laid that badly, I’m sure any of your friends would have stepped up to the plate.” Katie was blinking back tears from his tirade. “I certainly would have given you a seeing to, if you’d asked me,” George made a lewd thrusting gesture to make his point.
Marcus was no longer amused. He grabbed George by the collar of his robes and thrust him against the wall.
“Apologise!” he snarled.
“For telling Katie when she’s behaving like a slag? No.” George was unrepentant, and apparently unfazed by the burly man on the verge of choking him senseless.
“You’ll fucking apologise to my fiancée, or I’ll throw you over the fucking rail!”
“Fiancée?” George whispered, completely floored.
“Fiancée!” Marcus growled.
Katie sighed, reaching down the top of her nightgown to fish out of her cleavage a platinum and sapphire ring, threaded on a fine silver chain.
“Fiancée,” she confirmed quietly. George deflated visibly, and Marcus loosened his grip, allowing the inebriated man to slither down the wall.
“I had no idea,” George murmured, more to himself than anyone else. Katie grinned ruefully at Marcus.
“I guess the cat is out of the bag now, right?” She played idly with the ring on her chain.
“About fucking time too,” Marcus abandoned George, who was still apparently shell-shocked, grabbed Katie by the shoulders and pulled her into a fierce, bruising kiss. He broke their kiss and took the fine silver chain between his fingers. With a quick turn of his wrist he broke the chain and slid the ring off. “You’re mine, Katie.” His voice was low, possessive, sending shivers down Katie’s spine. His fingers tenderly traced the edge of her face, tucking a strand of honey-blonde hair behind her ear. Almost reverentially, he slipped the ring onto her wedding finger. “You’re mine, and I want everyone to know that.”
“I am yours, Marcus.” Katie smiled, and brought the ring to her lips, giving it a tiny kiss. “And you’re mine, too.” With that she twined her fingers through his thick, dark hair, and brought his head down for another kiss, sliding her tongue through his lips and lazily battling with his for mastery of the kiss. Marcus groaned into her mouth. He reached down, squeezing her arse cheeks before hefting her up and bracing her against the cool glass of the door. Katie wrapped her long legs around Marcus’ waist and threw back her head with a moan. His tongue trailed over her heated flesh, from the gentle slopes of her pale breasts, under her collarbone and along her neckline, feeling her warm pulse racing beneath his lips. He nipped at the spot below her earlobe, and sank his unique teeth into her shoulder, leaving a mark like a brand, claiming her. Katie bent her head down, running her tongue along the shell of his ear, nibbling and tugging at the lobe.
“Marcus,” she murmured throatily, “take me back to bed.”
A scraping noise reminded both of them that they still had an audience. George had collected his broom, but not his wits as he stared at their display.
“This worthless excuse for a wizard had his hands on you, Katie.” She could hear the threatening note in his voice. She ran her fingers through his hair, grazing her nails lightly along his scalp, forcing his head to look up at her.
“Marcus. Forget him. Take me to bed.” She gave him a slow, sensual smile, filled with promise. “And then take me.” Marcus did not need to think her suggestion over.
“Sod off, Weasley,” he called, as he carried Katie in over the threshold.
“Bye, George,” came Katie’s voice, before giving the door a well-aimed kick and it slammed shut. Then, slightly muffled, George heard, “Bedroom, Marcus. Now!”
George mounted his broom wearily and began the unsteady flight home. He needed some Sobriatus Potion. He needed, desperately needed, a well-placed Obliviate. And he needed to go to Gringott’s tomorrow, to buy Katie the best bloody engagement gift he could afford.
Actually the first full piece of fiction I have written for several years, and the first fanfic I have ever posted. Please, be gentle with me. ;-)