open RP: an unpopcorning, quiet and without incident

[not_so_stellar]

(( With mod permission and due process followed, here is Narcissa Malfoy. Narcissa does not remember her prior time(s) at Hogwarts, unless and until we find it amusing. Barring that, she's straight outta HBP

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[g_wormtongue]

((argh. Reposted thrice for mistakes.))

On hearing a noise in the unpopcorning room he cautiously peered inside and saw...but no, it wasn't. Only a bit of nearsightedness made the woman lolling on the floor appear like Eowyn. Surely, this woman, whoever she was, would not want a visitor while she was in such an undignified position. And yet, it paid to know people around the castle. Surely if he could help her, that would be worth something. There might be some gratitude...no, there wouldn't of course there wouldn't he told himself firmly. And this strange woman, whoever she may be is hardly Eowyn, and possibly not even a Lady. Yet...

"Lady- may I offer you a cloth? Or find you a leechwife?"

[not_so_stellar]

She -- hiccoughed. "A leechwife?"

[g_wormtongue]

"A healer?"
He craned his neck. Seeing her lying was fascinating, especially with the resemblence to Eowyn.

[not_so_stellar]

"I need no leeches, thank you." The answer she gave would have echoed dimly the usual imperious demeanor of a Malfoy, except that Narcissa was too distracted and too confused to sound sure of herself. She was trying to place the fellow who was addressing her. He looked like a fugitive Death Eater, or else one with a curious notion of what constituted adequate hygiene. His hair straggled the way Snape's used to do. Perhaps another of the Dark Lord's servants who shunned the light? Against a background of such drab drones, her fair Draco should shine all the brighter, as her Lucius had done.

Where was Draco?

"No cloth will suffice for this." She plucked at the grease-sodden skirts of her robes. "You are too kind."

[g_wormtongue]

Watching her look him over, Grima would have drawn into himself, but did not, only raising his chin a little higher. The haughtyness overlaid with confusion was enticing.

He quietly put his grubby handkerchief back in the pouch. It would be too little.

"Then at least, shall I call a house-elf to attend you? I am Grima Wormtongue, lately a councilor to the Hat."

[not_so_stellar]

"That is kind of you," she replied by rote before noting what he had really said. "I'm sorry, I may not have heard you correctly. Whose councilor did you say you were, Mr. Wormtongue?"

[g_wormtongue]

"The Hat's" he said folding his hands and looking solemn, though the ridiculousness of his situation pained him. "It is a magical artifact of great power, probably inhabited by the soul of a sorceror." She ought to be looking amazed at the word 'sorceror.'

((Oh by the way, the 'haughtyness overlaid with confusion' was Narcissia's, not Grima's.))