'Heather' watched the proceedings flow across the surface of her Regency bone china tea cup and reflected how neatly everything had been set up. She was prepared to bet that no one had seen that twist coming! Perhaps it was as well Mr Darcy had offered her his protection or he might have felt it necessary to defend St Mags and issues challenges. He might be able to fence and ride well but she didn't rate his chances against a rough and dour Highlander. The size of his sgian-dhu had made her eyes water! (Yes? *g* I mean the knife he wears.)
Satisfied he had done his duty, the late arrival stowed his wand down his sleeve and accepted cake and a glass of wine. No one spoke to him, which didn't seem to bother him, but he kept one eye on St Mags and Byron.
Halfway through his cake (moist and delicious, the fruits having been soaked in rum and vodka a month prior to baking) his head came up like a terrier that has scented rats. "Werewolf!" he muttered. "What's his interest in this?"
Which was the point he recalled the pale woman with the swollen jaw with whom he'd shared his lunch. Hadn't she been afraid of a man with the eyes of the devil? He'd been so focused on how to make the most of this sudden opportunity that she'd slipped his mind. She wasn't in the room--where had the werewolf stashed her? Keeping his movements casual, he abandoned his plate and glass on the aged oak table, noting its glorious patina in passing, and twisted his wrist causing his wand to release from the specialised wrist holster he wore. Werewolves liked the shadows, and there were plenty in this castle.
Napier smelled him coming and grinned. He didn't flinch when this AU version of Marcus pressed his wand against his jugular vein. "Took you long enough," he drawled.
"Where is she? Heather?"
Napier sighed theatrically; he did it rather well. Maybe Hazel would let him keep it. "Hazel, Toad-Boy, she's called Hazel. Do keep up." Mmm, maybe that had been the wrong thing to say, now that wand was digging in painfully hard. "No idea. Some popinjay called Darcy took her home, not that he can take her home home, so who knows?"
His pockets everted--typial bloody Auror--and a rich assortment of articles clattered to the floor, among them, his cigarettes, keys of various patterns and sizes, and his wand. Ah. Bugger.
AU Auror!Marcus(resigned) Summoned it. "Prior Incantatem!" he muttered, holding it tip to tip with his own. A silvery whisp darted out. Marcus's jaw tightened. "No wonder she had no idea who she was--you Obliviated her!"
Cockily, because he liked living on the edge, Napier winked in the best Anne Robinson fashion, snatched his wand and Disapparated. It had all worked out very well. Marcus would go looking for Hazel, unknowingly claim the spot as Principle Character thus leaving him right where he wanted to be--in the shadows, mixing it up. He lit a cigarette and inhaled with satisfaction. And the next time he got Moonette alone, there would be no bloody Summons from his author to save her. Oh yes! It was all going very well...
A/N: I bow down to you, Ros--you are made of Awesome, as Jo's icon has it! :D That was simply brilliant, and I have no quarrel about Napier's suitability for anything other than to take care of his own hide!
no subject
Satisfied he had done his duty, the late arrival stowed his wand down his sleeve and accepted cake and a glass of wine. No one spoke to him, which didn't seem to bother him, but he kept one eye on St Mags and Byron.
Halfway through his cake (moist and delicious, the fruits having been soaked in rum and vodka a month prior to baking) his head came up like a terrier that has scented rats. "Werewolf!" he muttered. "What's his interest in this?"
Which was the point he recalled the pale woman with the swollen jaw with whom he'd shared his lunch. Hadn't she been afraid of a man with the eyes of the devil? He'd been so focused on how to make the most of this sudden opportunity that she'd slipped his mind. She wasn't in the room--where had the werewolf stashed her? Keeping his movements casual, he abandoned his plate and glass on the aged oak table, noting its glorious patina in passing, and twisted his wrist causing his wand to release from the specialised wrist holster he wore. Werewolves liked the shadows, and there were plenty in this castle.
Napier smelled him coming and grinned. He didn't flinch when this AU version of Marcus pressed his wand against his jugular vein. "Took you long enough," he drawled.
"Where is she? Heather?"
Napier sighed theatrically; he did it rather well. Maybe Hazel would let him keep it. "Hazel, Toad-Boy, she's called Hazel. Do keep up." Mmm, maybe that had been the wrong thing to say, now that wand was digging in painfully hard. "No idea. Some popinjay called Darcy took her home, not that he can take her home home, so who knows?"
His pockets everted--typial bloody Auror--and a rich assortment of articles clattered to the floor, among them, his cigarettes, keys of various patterns and sizes, and his wand. Ah. Bugger.
AU Auror!Marcus(resigned) Summoned it. "Prior Incantatem!" he muttered, holding it tip to tip with his own. A silvery whisp darted out. Marcus's jaw tightened. "No wonder she had no idea who she was--you Obliviated her!"
Cockily, because he liked living on the edge, Napier winked in the best Anne Robinson fashion, snatched his wand and Disapparated. It had all worked out very well. Marcus would go looking for Hazel, unknowingly claim the spot as Principle Character thus leaving him right where he wanted to be--in the shadows, mixing it up. He lit a cigarette and inhaled with satisfaction. And the next time he got Moonette alone, there would be no bloody Summons from his author to save her. Oh yes! It was all going very well...
A/N: I bow down to you, Ros--you are made of Awesome, as Jo's icon has it! :D That was simply brilliant, and I have no quarrel about Napier's suitability for anything other than to take care of his own hide!