October 1st, 2008
11:58 pm

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Pale moonlight whispered tantalizingly through the open window, a cool autumn breeze teasing Adam’s flesh as he brought the cigarette to his lips and felt smoke caress his lungs like the welcome hands of a lover trailing a finger along his chest. Burning embers hissed at the tip as he pulled the fag away, digits cradling as his other hand gripped the window sill and he let his grey eyes focus on the starry sky, his ears catching the sound of flapping wings and busted car engines, as his nostril inhaled the unpleasant scent of smog and other noxious gases. As he exhaled, tendrils of smoke drafted out towards the outer atmosphere and the space beyond, leading to questions about the vast size of the universe that the twenty six year old would rather not ponder about at the moment.

It was rare to find the Cursebreaker in London, fanciful as he was to spend his time on the field for Gringotts. But word had reached him that somebody wanted to meet him, and the possibility that his inquiries and carefully whispered suggestions had started to pay off had warranted an extra night at home before heading off to the Andes, where his next assignment awaited. Tossing the cigarette butt out the window, Adam turned away and moved towards his bed, where his rucksack lay prepared for his parting. Sucking on the tip of his tongue, he languidly reached for the black pants that lay beneath it, pulling them up his legs. For an instant, he considered remaining shirtless for his female visitor, but quickly decided otherwise: business should be the focus this evening. Pulling a tee over his head and down his chest, Adam directed himself towards the kitchen portion of the small flat he was renting –while carelessly hoping that he’d be able to buy his own soon enough.

The bottle of wine he opened and poured into two tall wine glasses had cost a fortune –half his freaking salary-, but the possibilities brought about by his nighttime visitor warranted the expense. Curling his fingers around the stem of one of the glasses, Adam took a long sip, his adam’s apple bobbing sinfully. Then, he pulled out his wand and pointed it towards the fireplace; with a quick flick of his wrist, fires took birth in the hearth at the same instant as there come a soft, yet insistent knock on the front door. Looking calm and collected, he stepped into a pair of shoes before heading in the direction to welcome his guest into his large one-roomed flat, divided only by a Chinese wall that had been his proudest purchase.

When the meeting had been requested, Adam had answered with an invitation to his flat, deciding that it’d be best to keep some type of control of the situation by holding the encounter in his own territory. Now, he slightly regretted the decision, but it was much too late as he pulled the door open, a cool smile on his face, eyes narrowed just the tiniest bit. “Melanthe,” He greeted her by her first name, though it was the first time they met –hopefully it would show confidence. Stepping back, he allowed her entrance to the flat before closing the door quietly. “Thank you for coming.”

Melanthe had politely excused herself from her company at her previous engagement so as to see to other business matters. Though she was only a short time back in England, little birds had been whispering in her ear about what activities she might want to get involved with.

And word of a Cursebreaker who wished to tinker with his dark side was indeed very intriguing. So she had sent word to set up a meeting and with a locale communicated to her that evening, she was happy she could make a night of fun all around.

She had covered her dress from her evening out with a long, black hooded cloak and so her face was hidden when the door was opened.

She didn't answer his greeting right away and breezed past him, her cloak billowing behind her. Once inside and the door was closed, she cast off the hood so that he might see her fully and so she might do the same for him.

Melanthe stood tall, her shoulders back and her Grumman features hardened by the flickering light cast by the fire. Her dark eyes took in her host's features with interest. Finally, she gave a curt nod to acknowledge his thanks. "Adam, is it? Let us not waste any time. Why don't you tell me exactly what it is you are looking for?"

A black cloak covered her frame, hood pulled up and partially hiding her face –and yet, Adam had no doubt that the woman was Melanthe Grumman, as she breezed past him and into the flat. The Cursebreaker’s nostrils flared as the lack of a reply, as he let the door close with a snap and turned his back on it, rolling the glass of wine between his thumb and index finger. He stood there, watching as she turned back to him and exposed her face: long, brown hair, dark eyes, high cheekbones and angular jaw line. She wasn’t normal looking by any sense of the word, yet he found her attractive and thoughts of what he might want to do with her were this any other type of encounter flitted distractingly through his brain. But Melanthe Grumman was here on other business, and her family’s past was hard to overlook. At some point, Adam had obviously whispered into the right ear, for his desires had reached a family who could build him.

Or destroy him.

“Oh, why the hurry?” His grey eyes sparked playfully as he took a sip of his wine and took two long, lazy strides towards her, closing the distance for but about a foot. Leaning sideways, Adam placed his glass on the smooth surface of the dinning table, before standing straight again and looking into her eyes. Here was yet another woman who was slightly taller than him, yet another jibe to his ego. But there wasn’t much of a difference, and Adam found that they were about eye-to-eye, as he licked across his bottom lip. “How do I even know you are who you say?” He asked, with a curious shrug as if he were stating the obvious: which he was. If this were Melanthe Grumman –and he actually had no doubt it was-, she would understand that he was about to touch upon quite delicate matters with her. He couldn’t run the risk of telling an undercover Auror that he had a desire to start bloody killing people for money, as he had no interest in a long stay at Azkaban.

Stepping away, Adam turned his back on her and stepped towards the bedroom window. He hoped she’d follow beneath the wall he’d put in, and enter the bedroom area of his flat –a quiet suggestion that business was not necessarily all they had to speak about tonight. Leaning against the frame of the glass, Adam grabbed the pack of cigarettes he’d leant against it, and lit one up. Exhaling smoke through the open window, the animagus offered the pack to the woman, eyes carefully on her face. “Before talking, I’d like to know how you gathered knowledge about my… interests,” He let the final word tingle secretively in the air as he waited for a response.

Melanthe pretended that she did not noticed how her entrance had affected him. But she was pleased nonetheless and dipped her face so as to hide a smirk with her long, dark hair. But it also allowed her a moment to take in the young man who had requested an audience with her. And he was young like she was and though she wouldn't necessarily say that he was as pretty man, he certainly was pleasing on the eyes. And yet, he looked a bit too green for the kind of business he supposedly wanted to get involved with.

Regardless, apparently her Uncle Caspero had sent word to her that he wanted her to tend to this bit of business personally. It wasn't often that Caspero was insistent. But he was now.

Melanthe lifted her gaze just as Adam moved towards her, asking why there was a need to hurry. She watched him carefully, noting that he did not seem to be intimidated by the nature of their meeting. "Oh there's no hurry," she assured him, reaching out to snatch up the glass of wine he had set aside. She raised it to her lips and held it there as she inhaled deeply, savoring the rich aromas. Pleased with how well they spoke to the wine's quality, she took a sip and paused again, allowing it to seep into her tongue, further registering the lovely taste. Finally, she swallowed and pulled the glass away, smiling brightly at her host.

The soft sound of her laughter followed Adam's inquiry about how he was to know if she was who she said she was. Her eyes glinted with something sinister, while also appearing to be teasing. A brow slowly arched upwards as if to silently ask him if he really wanted her to answer that question.  She watched him step away and curiosity getting the better of her, she followed, with the wine glass well in hand.

Melanthe approached slowly until she reached where he was lounging against the window frame. She set the wine glass down and reached out not for unlit cigarette, but the very one he was puffing on. Her fingers lightly brushed his as she took it from him and brought it to her own lips. She did not move as she did so and after the  smoke lazily drifted from her parted lips, she leaned in closer still so that her face was mere inches from his. With a whisper, she addressed his previous query: "Would you like a demonstration that proves I am who you hope I am?" She turned just so, allowing her lips to barely graze his jaw. Her next words toyed with his second inquiry. "Does it really matter how I know about your interests? We both know that you are so very glad that I do..."

The soft clatter of glass as she settled her wine down on the windowsill was lost, at the distraction of her fingers brushing against his to take his cigarette instead of one of her own. Adam’s smile was devilish, an eyebrow cocked, as he watched her inhale deeply. This entire meeting was obviously turning into a game of dominance, but he was certain he’d kicked the first domino into motion and taken the lead in requesting her to come to his flat. His territory, his laws. He let her lean closer in, and though there was an electrifying sensation to the way her lips almost grazed against her jaw as she spoke, he remained cold and still, muscles loose as if he had not a care in the world. For an instant, he allowed her to believe he might be about to concede, that she was allowed to toy with him however she liked.

But then he gently raised a hand, curled his fingers around her shoulder, and slowly moved her back –acting as if her closeness had not at all affected him. “True,” He stated simply, as his shoes treaded on the hardwood of the floor and he carried himself to the table, scooping up his glass and taking a delicate sip of wine. “I’m ecstatic that you heard of my interests,” Again, he let the word dangle in seductive mystery between them, as he shrugged, folding one arm over his chest and balancing his glass on it. “But if you’re aware of what they are, you should be aware I’m not willing to just go talking about them freely.”

Finishing the wine, Adam place the empty glass back on the table and moved: in three long strides, he was before her, stepping close enough to pin her against the wall, his gaze just slightly menacing yet at the same time playful as he looked into her eyes. “So, yes, Melanthe,” He whispered, leaning closer so as to speak directly into her ear. “I would very much appreciate proof of your identity.”

Melanthe Grumman was not intimidated easily. Quite the contrary; she enjoyed putting herself in situations that were highly dangerous to her health in practically every way. And that included being in compromising and potentially disastrous positions with the wrong kind of men.

This man was quite the looker, that was for sure. And his devilish smile certainly seemed to say that he was not innocent or weak willed, which was ideal, both in being dark and in other ways. And if he wanted to play this little teasing game, the would happily play along. She enjoyed mixing some business with pleasure. And pleasure was all relative.

He handled her first test -- their teasing closeness -- well, and Melanthe did her best to reign in her smugness for maybe getting under his skin a little.

His next move was somewhat surprising though and when he pressed back against her, she stole a quick glance at his face before he stepped away to retrieve his wine. She turned slightly and lazily lounged against the wall as she took another drag off of the cigarette he had left with her. She watched him through the smoke, narrowing her dark eyes when he spoke again.

"Rarely do people who do what we do--" she began and then stopped, flashing him a coy smile before she started again, "I'm sorry, by we I mean my family--but rarely do we talk about what we do freely." She laughed lightly and cocked her head to the side. "We're more about actions speaking louder than words." Melanthe reached out to extinguish the cigarette, having grown bored with smoking. Running her tongue over her bottom lip, she added, "One thing my family is very good at is having eyes and ears in the right places. A great many call themselves friends to the Grummans."

She eyed him as he moved quickly back to where she was and perhaps a less sturdy or confident witch would have been taken aback by his abrupt act of pinning her against the wall. A faint gasp slipped from her lips, but it was not because she was scared; it was because what he had done was rather thrilling.

Briefly, she tensed against him, feeling his harshness and his undeniable masculinity. But slowly, Melanthe allowed her body to relax, even as she raised her chin with a haughty air in response to his intense gaze, her way of saying that he did not intimidate her. His breath danced against the skin of her neck close to her ear and she delighted in hearing him say her name.

Boldly, she pressed back against him, skillfully molding her frame to his as she responded with her own whisper, full of playful daring. "So you want to become a friend to the Grummans too, hmm?' She placed a surprisingly gentle kiss to his cheek as she murmured, "I do have to warn you that it might hurt..."

An onlooker might have thought they were tangled into a knot, from the way they pressed against each other, and Adam couldn’t keep a certain heat from joining the determination and boldness in his gaze. Almost lazily, one of his hands fell to curl loosely around her waist, his fingers grazing against her hip and holding her close as she pressed a surprisingly gentle kiss against his jaw –although her words were far from kind. The animagus allowed his fingers to dig in harsher, his teeth grinding together as he tossed all caution to the wind: Adam turned his face towards her, and all of the sudden his lips were capturing her own. He felt slightly dizzy as he pressed his body even harsher against hers, pushing her into the wall and deepening the snog. For a few seconds, it went on: tongue battling, lips dancing, breath pushing past his nostrils, and finally his teeth tugging on her own as he pulled back.

As if too close to something undesirable, Adam pulled his arm from its place around her waist and stepped back, his grey eyes challenging her as let out a derisive snort. “Trying to scare me, Melanthe?” Her name was spoken almost in a hiss, his voice rumbling at the bottom of his throat with a sense of masculinity, as he turned his back to her and moved to his bed, dropping down so as to stare up at her. A smirk played at his lips, as he lazily dragged a hand through his short hair and tapped his tongue against his bottom teeth, cocking his head sideways. “Pain doesn’t scare me,” He sneered, moving from a half-laying position into sitting on the bed with his legs daggling off the side to press against the floor. “So play your games, little girl, but get on with it so we can get to the interesting part of our meeting.”

Melanthe continued to enjoy the thrill of being thrust up against him so abruptly. One hand gripped his arm and as his fingers dug harshly into the flesh of her waist, she equaled the measure to his bicep. And when he finally forced the kiss, Melanthe did not fight him. At least not in a way that suggested she wanted him to stop.

Instead, Melanthe aimed to fight him for control of the kiss. They were like two tidal waves crashing into one another with a force so great that it rendered one breathless. They swirled and dipped into one another with such reckless abandon and passion that it was near impossible to see who held control at any given point. And it was an assault on her senses.

When he finally  broke the kiss and pulled away, Melanthe seemed to relax back against the wall that had been so unyielding during the action. She looked at him through half closed eyelids and smiled a lazy smile until a breathy laugh seemed to mock his question.  "Scare you with my words? How silly when actions are so much more...delicious."

There was a glint in her eye as the last word left her lips. One that seemed to suggest that she was done talking.
Her next movements were quite deliberate. She looked down at the cigarettes which had been abandoned in their tongue and cheek games. Sliding one out of the pack, she stepped away from the wall and moved to where he lay on the bed.

Oh he was so very pretty, Melanthe mused behind a smug smile. What a shame it would be to ruin that...

She said nothing in response to his declaration that pain didn't scare him. Instead she just shrugged and held up the lone cigarette she had. Her dark gaze blazed at his attempt to patronize her. She had been called little girl before. And she would undoubtedly be called it again in the future. But it didn't mean it had to go unpunished.

Leaning over him on the bed, Melanthe reached out and gently settled the cigarette in his fingers. Before he could say anything to question what she was doing, she brought a finger to her lips to confirm that words were over now.

She straightened and stepped back.  In a swift series of movements, Melanthe reached up and brushed her cloak from her shoulders and brandished her wand. Her form fitting black party dress and trendy shoes and accessories made it easy to underestimate her. Easy to never see her as a threat.

But that view of her usually changed very quickly.

She took careful aim and let the words "Incendia verbero" fall with controlled confidence from her lips.

The familiar blazing reddish-orange spark shot from her wand and in one precise yet decisive firey whip-like movement, it immediately singed the cigarette in Adam's fingers to practically nothing.

Melanthe watched with a certain glee in her eyes, certain that the cigarette would not be the only casualty.

His feet rubbed against the hardwood ground, shifting just the smallest bit in the only sign of a hint of nerves –yet impossible to notice. Fear was a weakness he was not willing to show, as he stared at the cigarette she held up for him and cocked an eyebrow in her direction. He felt a mixture of emotions that ran from nerves to anticipation to a deep curiosity over what she had planned, but he let her wait for a second as he considered the fag between her fingers. A small smirk played at the corner of his lips: he was still in control, this was still his flat, and he could do to her whatever he wanted. If she proved not to be what he wanted, severing her head from the rest of her body wouldn’t be the worst way to prove to the criminal world that he meant business –though there was also a certain chance that her family might not find it exactly positive nor welcome him into the job with open arms. Still, for a family such as hers –from the rumors he’d heard- it would still come down to who was best: even if the held him responsible for Melanthe’s death, if he proved to be excellent at killing they’d end up hiring him. There was a even a chance all would be forgotten.

For now, he pushed that option to the back of his mind, opting for the easier opportunity at hand as he reached up and took the cigarette from her. “Does your brand of cruelty end at offering me one of my own fags?” He asked, tone sarcastic, as he rolled the white tube between his thumb and index finger, letting the latter drag up the side of it. But then, she lent over him, intoxicatingly close and Adam wondered if she simply planned to shag him into complacency –until he felt her digits placing the cigarette in position between his own. Before he could comment on her breast, she put a finger to her lips in an indication he should shut the hell up. Adam considered disobeying the order, but curiosity and the adrenaline rushing through his blood system canceled out such possibilities, as his grey eyes settled on the woman.

In a quick set of movements, she was standing and cloak was floating back to reveal a black dress that sat rather well on her; her wand was then brandished and words were spoken. It was all so fast Adam barely had time to react before a lash of fire was extending from the tip of the wood and whipping towards him. If Melanthe had meant to light the cigarette for him, she had somewhat exaggerated, for it burnt to nothing –but considering the flame also managed to wrap around his finger, Adam rather had a feeling that hadn’t been what she’d been going for. The animagus instantly snapped his teeth down on his bottom lip to stop any type of complaint from leaving his mouth, forced himself not to react as if it’d hurt –although, it really, really had.

With a cocked eyebrow, and finger still feeling as if it were on fire, he glanced up at her and let a second beat by before speaking. “That tickled,” He finally said, forcing tears from his eyes. Adam stood and walked towards her, carefully reaching for her wand and wrapping his uninjured hand around it. “But burning my finger isn’t going to do anything other than prove to me that you know how to hold a piece of wood,” His voice was worn and slightly annoyed, as he tightened his fingers around the shaft and tugged at it slightly. “It won’t prove that you’re a Grumman,” He was rather certain she was, by now, and the game was getting tiresome –but if he pulled out now, she’d believe he was lying about not being hurt. Which, he was –but he wasn’t about to let her know that. “However,” He let go of her wand and stepped back, arms spread out at each side into the air. “If torture tickles your fancy, by all means do try –but you might want to be a bit more convincing, love.”

After her bold actions, Melanthe stood back to watch his reaction to what she had done to him, knowing that this might not have been how he expected things to go between them. Same old story. A man in her life who underestimated her.

That thought caused her to smile so sweetly down at him as she lightly tapped the tip of her African Blackwood wand against the palm of her free hand. She knew that her strike had been precise. And she also knew that his fingers hand not gone unscathed. She was impressed that he had not yelped out in any pain at all. Either he had a high tolerance for pain or he was great at pretending.

"Oh dear," she said, feigning a look and tone of woe at his claim that it had tickled. "And here I thought I may have hurt you." Her eyes intently moved to his wounded fingers, even as he advanced towards her. "It's too bad. I would have offered to kiss it and make it better."
 
Her words were meant to mock him after his own had lashed out in annoyance about her ability to prove who she was. She clucked her tongue when his fingers closed around her wand. "Ahh, but it is such a nice piece of wood...."

A light chuckle rose from within her when he let go and challenged her to do something more convincing. She stepped towards him again and leaned in close to murmur in his ear, "Oh no, no. It's your turn now. " She paused and gave him a sidelong look that was meant to silently tell him she was calling his bluff. She finally stepped back and reached down to take the wrist of his burned hand. Slowly she brought the scorched fingertips to her lips. They then curled into a teasing smile. "Why don't you tell me what you want and then we can do something more...fun."