Scandalized
Title: Scandalized
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Narcissa/Lily
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 353
Summary: Lily Evans should really button up her blouse, or somebody else is going to have to do it for her.
Author's Notes: Written for saurab at the rarepair_shorts wishlist event. The request was for Narcissa Black/Lily Evans with the prompt blouse. This was what immediately popped into my head.
Scandalized
One too many buttons is undone.
Across the library, Narcissa tries to sit still and prim, to focus on the book that she must have at least half-read by tonight; but the pages have not moved in twenty minutes, her eyes in no less than five. She squirms in her chair, ignoring any remarks from Lucius and her friends. She cannot think. She can barely see. She feels frazzled and unorganized and very much out of character. This, perhaps, is genuine distress, something her mother tells her always to avoid.
Lily Evans is obscene and improper. Vulgar. The V of her blouse’s neckline dips down too low, revealing a bit of white lace masquerading as propriety, and a patch of pale, freckle-less skin unused to the touch of sunlight.
And then there are her breasts, tartily pushed up into plump, round curves, just there, in that gap behind the button that should not be unbuttoned, heaving and straining with each breath.
She plays very innocently, hunching her shoulders as she bends over her parchment, peering at it through secretive reading glasses. Her dark red hair is quite mussed, and falls over her shoulder, as if she rolled out of bed this morning and decided that decency was beneath her. There are spots of ink on her cheek and down her arms and even there, dripping down the base of her throat to her chest to stain and puddle between--
Narcissa stands up in disgust, and marches over to Lily’s table, grasping the front of Lily’s blouse with deft but delicate fingers.
“What are you doing?” Lily demands, startled. Glasses askew, she tries to push Narcissa away as gently but firmly as possible.
Narcissa holds her lips in a rigid line while she buttons the offending button. She brushes against lace, though, against soft, plump, round flesh, and to her horror, she nearly wants to keep her hands there a moment longer, to step closer and breathe in.
Narcissa steps back.
“Don’t be such a slag, Evans,” she sneers in a voice like shaking glass.
Then, cheeks uncomfortably hot, she marches away.
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Narcissa/Lily
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 353
Summary: Lily Evans should really button up her blouse, or somebody else is going to have to do it for her.
Author's Notes: Written for saurab at the rarepair_shorts wishlist event. The request was for Narcissa Black/Lily Evans with the prompt blouse. This was what immediately popped into my head.
Scandalized
One too many buttons is undone.
Across the library, Narcissa tries to sit still and prim, to focus on the book that she must have at least half-read by tonight; but the pages have not moved in twenty minutes, her eyes in no less than five. She squirms in her chair, ignoring any remarks from Lucius and her friends. She cannot think. She can barely see. She feels frazzled and unorganized and very much out of character. This, perhaps, is genuine distress, something her mother tells her always to avoid.
Lily Evans is obscene and improper. Vulgar. The V of her blouse’s neckline dips down too low, revealing a bit of white lace masquerading as propriety, and a patch of pale, freckle-less skin unused to the touch of sunlight.
And then there are her breasts, tartily pushed up into plump, round curves, just there, in that gap behind the button that should not be unbuttoned, heaving and straining with each breath.
She plays very innocently, hunching her shoulders as she bends over her parchment, peering at it through secretive reading glasses. Her dark red hair is quite mussed, and falls over her shoulder, as if she rolled out of bed this morning and decided that decency was beneath her. There are spots of ink on her cheek and down her arms and even there, dripping down the base of her throat to her chest to stain and puddle between--
Narcissa stands up in disgust, and marches over to Lily’s table, grasping the front of Lily’s blouse with deft but delicate fingers.
“What are you doing?” Lily demands, startled. Glasses askew, she tries to push Narcissa away as gently but firmly as possible.
Narcissa holds her lips in a rigid line while she buttons the offending button. She brushes against lace, though, against soft, plump, round flesh, and to her horror, she nearly wants to keep her hands there a moment longer, to step closer and breathe in.
Narcissa steps back.
“Don’t be such a slag, Evans,” she sneers in a voice like shaking glass.
Then, cheeks uncomfortably hot, she marches away.