A resounding crash came from the potions cabinet, causing Narcissa Black to jump, nearly spilling her phial of bubotuber pus. Cursing under her breath, she safely set down the noxious ingredient and slowly made her way over to the cupboard. She had thought she was the only one left studying late in the dungeon, as she usually was besides young Severus, but perhaps someone had quietly made their way in while she was focused working and not paying attention to much else.

Narcissa pressed her ear against the heavy wooden door and heard the muffled muttering of two people. This caused her only a moment's confusion before understanding and sighing to herself. Surely there are better places to hide away for such activities, she thought, highly bothered by the fact that her work had been disrupted by something as trivial as a pair of libidinous teenagers.

Pushing the door open she stepped inside, ready to tell the couple off – she was a prefect, after all – when she came face to face with the one and only, very dishevelled, Head Boy.

"Malfoy," she smirked, crossing her arms. "Pleasuring yourself alone, or…?"

Just then an equally dishevelled fifth-year Slytherin girl scrambled up from behind the fallen pile of cauldrons that had presumably caused the disturbance.

"Ah," Narcissa finished her own question. "Honestly, kids, why is it that you must fulfil these needs in a place where half the things on the shelves above you would melt your skin off if you were to knock them down?"

"Who're you calling kid, Black?" Lucius Malfoy seemed to have found his drawling voice once again, matching her smirk.

"Well, Vaisley, is it?"

The girl nodded.

"I do believe you're a year below me, Miss Vaisley, and therefore two years below Mr. Malfoy here. Don't let him muddle your head – he most likely sees you as hardly anymore than a child. Now get back to the Common Room and I won't take any away any points on your behalf." Although her words were harsh, Narcissa smiled slightly as the girl as she fled the premises, blushing furiously – Narcissa didn't blame her for their current situation. Not when someone like Malfoy was involved.

"Come now, Cissy, what do you have against a bit of fun?"

Narcissa's smile fell and she curled her lip into a look of disgust. "Don't call me that; it's Miss Black to you. And I have nothing against fun when it's done in private – I do, however, when it disturbs my studying."

To her great annoyance, Malfoy's smirk only deepened as he moved closer to her, lowering his voice. "Narcissa, surely we're on a first-name basis by now? Known each other our entire lives, really."

Narcissa snorted. "I've known plenty of people here my whole life, but you don't see me cozying up to Goyle do you?"

"That's because," he said lazily, drawing ever nearer to her. "Not everyone can be graced with the purest of blood and wonderful looks, hm? Only a select few are that lucky."

Narcissa made a scathing noise, shoving the boy out of the cupboard with surprising strength and shutting the door behind them. "You're so right, Malfoy. Unfortunate that you're not among us lucky ones, hm?" She turned from the slightly stunned look on his face with a smug feeling that she didn't let reach her face, returning to her work bench.

"So, what, planning on taking points from your own house to punish me, are you Miss Prefect?" He seemingly had gotten over his momentary shock at her rebuttal, his voice back to his usual drawl.

Exasperated, she let out a sigh, not looking up from her notes. "Look, Malfoy, we both know I won't do that, because for one, you're Head Boy and have seniority over me in this case, and secondly because it's not as if that'd teach you a lesson in any way. You're a rather predictable boy, and I doubt anything I can do will ever change that. Now, if you don't mind, I'd really like to finish my work before sun up. Go chase that poor girl down, if you're that desperate for attention."

Narcissa heard his footsteps against the rough stone floor, relieved that he was finally deciding to leave her alone, when suddenly her hand was swept up in his, causing her to yelp in surprise.

Malfoy was grinning as he bowed mockingly low, planting a kiss on the back of her hand. "Certainly, Miss Black. Whatever the lady desires, I am but a slave to her wishes."

"Leave!" she bellowed, finally cracking and losing her practised cool.

This time the young man obliged, not wanting to be on the end of her wand, which he knew for a fact could do him quite a bit of harm if she was upset enough. Chuckling to himself he hurried from the dungeon, taking the ascending spiral steps two by two.

He inwardly cursed the powers at be for having it be someone so quick-witted who walked in on him in what hadn't been, he admitted, his most shining hour. This should do nothing to dampen his good mood, he knew – he had gotten in an evening of debauchery after an extremely successful Quiddich practice, and often he felt simply existing as himself was cause for celebration.

As cheerful as he was with all this being his reality, there was a slight abrasion in the back of his mind, uncomfortable against all the good thoughts circling there.

He exited onto the main floor, heading towards the kitchen to find himself a small snack, wracking his brains as to what could be causing this discomfort. He was caught up on his homework – in the important subjects, anyways. He knew the younger Vaisley girl had been uncomfortable at being discovered, but surely that relationship could be mended if ever necessary. What was it…

Preoccupied, he stalked swiftly through the halls, failing to notice anything beyond the floor in front of him and, strangely enough, accumulating thoughts of the girl he had left in the dungeons. The dim, cool light illuminating her golden hair so it glimmered mysteriously… her uniform, so prim and pressed, concealing her supple body beneath… her pale, aristocratic face, haughty and smug, not at all scandalized upon finding him in such a situation… the disgust it had held at his close proximity to her –

He halted abruptly right before the fruit-bowl tapestry which led to the kitchens, suddenly not particularly hungry, all carefree thoughts from moments previous disappearing rapidly. His pale eyes widened in awe as he realized the cause of his discomfort, and just how tantalizing he found its host.

"Damn."

Narcissa Black, as similar in temperament as she was different in looks to the rest of her psychotic family, was far too headstrong to fall for anything Lucius Malfoy had up his sleeve, and of this he was desperately aware.

This was definitely a problem.