Title: Familiar

Rating: M

Warnings: Slight S&M, Smut, Oral, Blood, Detail

Summary: The final part of her sorceress training is to summon a familiar, but Marinette Dupain-Cheng received more than she was bargaining for. (Warning: Detailed Lemon)

Note: Chloé's installment... This should prove to be interesting.

"Familiar: Gratification Part One"

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She inspected her perfectly filed nails, glowering at where the paint had begun to chip slightly. Her sigh quickly morphed into an irritable growl of frustration. How dare she? How dare that little-! Chloé Bourgeois sneered from the bench she was currently perched on, frowning at all passerby. One group of individuals happened to hold her interest and as such her gaze never faltered. Marinette Dupain-Cheng. The very utterance of her rival's name caused Chloé to shake in rage. How could Marinette stand to be so lucky!? When they were young, it was easy for the girl to be stepped on. However, things gradually began to change once they grew older. Marinette was now the top of their class, admired by all their fellow students. Chloé was disregarded, revered even as a pompous melodramatic. Now, Marinette had it all. Beauty, her wizarding degree, and a drop dead gorgeous familiar who doubled as her life partner. Adrien was his name. Yes; everything came easy for precious Marinette.

Where was her knight in shining armor!? She had yet to finish her training, and day by day she was growing even more impatient. Distractions did little for her predicament, and she was quickly growing bored of waiting for good fortune to fall in her lap.

Chloé gazed up at the blazing sun, the heat suddenly becoming unbearable. Where was Sabrina with her drink? It had been half an hour already; no one takes that long ordering a beverage. Knowing her, the ginger was probably flirting once more with the dwarf of a man known as Maxwell. The walking encyclopedia was so much shorter than Sabrina, that Chloé could easily use him as a stepping stool. Why her minion would ever even consider a man of such a lower status was beyond her.

In recent years, Chloé's father had attempted to match his daughter with an appropriate suiter but failed miserably. The only male of proper status and name in the entire land- who was also her age -bore a large nose, greasy hair, and was only four feet tall and riddled with acne. While looking down on others was one of Chloé's favorite pastimes, she had no intention of having to lower her head the rest of her life to glance upon her husband.

"Here you are, Miss." Sabrina's voice startled the blonde woman out of her thoughts.

"Sabrina, where have you been!?" Her servant began to open her mouth, but Chloé raised a manicured hand. "Save it. I won't stand for more meaningless excuses." Sabrina lowered her head in shame as the girl tossed back her blonde curls and plucked the drink from her hands. Taking a sip, the blonde's eyes widened, and she spat out the liquid. "This is hot! If I wanted hot juice, I would have sat the glass under the damned summer sun myself!" Chloé pitched the drink in disgust, some of it falling on Sabrina's shoes. "Leave my sight." The ginger promptly obeyed, not daring to say another word.

"Tell me. How long does it take for you to style your hair each day to hide those horns of yours?"

"Alya Césaire, as I live and breathe." The said brunette had appeared before her, crossing her tanned arms and donning a frown. "What do you want?"

"I refuse to stand idly by as you torture that poor girl!" Alya gestured to Sabrina, who was disappearing in the distance.

"Torture?" She scoffed. "You believe that I am Sabrina's torturer? How ridiculous! She has been following me like the loyal dog she is for years now." Chloé stood from her seat, crossing her arms as well. The clashing women were now mere inches apart, challenging each other to deliver the first blow. Before any blood could be shed, Marinette interfered by stretching out her arms between them.

"Please, stop this! You both know that you'll never see eye to eye, so please stop with this nonsense." Alya backed off a couple of feet, silently fuming.

"Someone needs to learn to keep their nose where it properly belongs." With this said and Chloé tapping at her own nose, Alya lunged for her. Adrien managed to hold the feisty brunette back by the arms and pull her away from the scene.

"I swear to the gods, Bourgeois! One day you will get what is coming to you!" Alya screamed. Chloé merely rolled her eyes as the three of them quickly left.

"Peasants…" Upon glancing once more at precious Marinette and her familiar's retreating forms, Chloé's anger returned, and a snarl escaped her lips. "We'll just see about how lucky you actually are Marinette. You are going to get your just deserts."

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By the stroke of midnight, Chloé Bourgeois had withdrawn from her sleeping chamber and dove head first into the darkness of the night. The small amount of moonlight did little to aid her sight as she had to feel along the walls for a grasp of her surroundings. Nevertheless, she managed to make her way to the courtyard of the Bourgeois manor, where her loyal Sabrina awaited. "Did you bring what I asked?"

"But of course, Milady." From Sabrina's satchel, the red head pulled a hard-leather-bound journal. Deep onyx with an emerald encrusted into its surface, the book held an ominous aura. Chloé took the offered item and ran her hands across the spine of the tome, feeling of the braided leather. Delightfully humming to herself, she turned to the first page and inspected the runes for a dark incantation. "Chloé are you really planning on going through with this!?" Sabrina whispered, the fear in her voice evident. As a response, the blonde promptly shut the book with one hand and glared at her servant.

"Why would I not? It will lead me to what I desire most, the destruction of Marinette's reputation." She cackled at the mere thought.

"But, would that not be cruel? Yes, Marinette is every bit as annoying as you say she is. Do not misunderstand; I am not disagreeing with you. However, is this not -dare I say-… a dirty way of handling the situation?" The question hesitatingly left her lips as Chloé grew ever closer.

A sharp fingernail was threateningly pointed at Sabrina as the witch spat the following words, "Cruel or not, this is what that temptress deserves! She has cast a spell on everyone that causes them to absolutely ADORE her! It must be witchcraft! What other explanation is there!?"

"She could just be a likeable person…" Chloé guffawed.

"Has she tampered with your mind as well, Sabrina!? If you have any sense at all left in that little brain of yours, you will follow my orders like you are supposed to, without question. For centuries, your family has abided by the rule of the Bourgeois, and I expect you to continue to live out that legacy. Do you wish to bring dishonor to your family, Sabrina!? Do you want me to cast you out of our village!?" Sabrina collapsed to her knees clutching at Chloé's night robe, beginning to sob with every harsh jab at her pride. She paid no mind for the tears on her face nor the mud on her now filthy clothes.

"Please, Chloé! I did not mean any harm by it! Please! This all that my family has! Forgive me; I was out of line!" Chloé tugged away her dress out of the poor girl's hands.

"You better believe that you were out of line! Never should you speak ill of me or my opinions! If ever you do so again, I will keep true to my promises of being rid of your family."

"But, of course… Why certainly, Lady Chloé!"

"Hmph! That is much better. Perhaps you are of some use after all. Now, get up. Stop groveling!" Sabrina did as was commanded of her, attempting to brush off the dirt from her cloak. "Back to the matter at hand. With this book, you will discover a method to bring down Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Once you have discovered it, you will report back to me and we will perform the ceremony. Also, you shall speak no word of what has happened tonight or my plans for Marinette! Is that clear?"

"Crystal!"

"Good. Now, return to your quarters."

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The following two weeks had Chloé lying in wait for the conclusion of Sabrina's studying. Impatient as she was, the blonde had approached the ginger many a day, inquiring of her findings. With every ask, their yielded no results. However, upon the fifteenth day, Sabrina had arrived with news. As was asked of her, she had found a spell that would mar Marinette's reputation. "This should do the trick!" Sabrina slammed the book on the desk of the Bourgeois study room, dust flying into the air. Both girls coughed as they looked at the page Sabrina was referring to. "From what I can decipher, this is an incantation that allows the caster to take away whatever they want from whomsoever they choose. It would allow you to take away her good fortunes! And,-" The girl was shoved out of the way by Chloé who wanted to get a better look.

"And, you are sure this will work?"

"I am positive, Miss!"

"Hmm… Well then, let us proceed with the ceremony then." That evening the two got to work on the preparations for the incantation. Truth be told, it was mostly Sabrina running about for supplies, but Chloé would tell you otherwise. Once everything was completed, the two beamed at one another and gleefully flipped to the rightful page. "Now, all that is left is the words. Step aside Sabrina; we do not want you getting caught in the crossfire."

"Yes, Miss." Chloé began the spell. The wind outside began to howl, and the windows shuddered like scattering leaves. As it was nearing the end of the enchantment, Chloé unknowingly mispronounced a word, but the ginger noticed. However, the spell was over before Sabrina could inform her. Lightning struck a nearby tree at that moment, causing both girls to jump in fright. Expecting something to pop up out of nowhere, the two of them huddled underneath a table. Of course, nothing came. Chloé felt like a fool for allowing her nerves to get the better of her. "Well, do you feel any different?" Chloé inspected her own hands and body, feeling nothing out of the ordinary. Was something supposed to happen or not?

"Not at all! Are you sure that worked, Sabrina?"

"Well, it should have done something. Maxwell assured me that it would… Then again, you did mispronounce one of the words."

"I did no such thing!" Chloé stomped her foot in outrage. "And, what do you mean by Maxwell said so!? You approached him about this!?" Sabrina froze.

"No! I mean I did, but… I never told him what it was for! I just asked him if the tome was trustworthy material or not."

"I should have known better than to trust you!" With that said, Chloé stormed off to her chambers, leaving Sabrina to her own.

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As the days passed by, nothing appeared to have been altered in Chloé's life, not one single thing. As punishment, the young women neglected Sabrina, ultimately ignoring her overall presence. This course of action only angered the people who knew of the situation. That is… all except for her father, of course. Her Daddy dearest would do no such thing as go against his one and only daughter, why it would be shameful!

Instead of the good luck Chloé wished to be bestowed upon her, she received nothing but bad. Her valuable new dress made exclusively in Paris was torn as it caught on the side of her family's carriage, sending the girl falling into the mud below. Her prized mare, who had always been a tame beast, went on a rampage in the streets for no apparent reason. Even her hair almost caught on fire as one of the maids prepared it with the curling rod! Consequently, everyone effectively avoided the blonde witch, not wishing to catch her rotten luck. In the process, this tore Chloé Bourgeois down to the very core of her being. Within the course of two months, Chloé grew despicable in every sense, becoming even more socially inept than she ever had been.

However, this all but changed with the arrival of the Bourgeois' annual ball. Being held in honor of Chloé's birthday, diplomats and nobility of the like were invited from across the kingdom. It is during these festivities that her father socialized with the elites and made attempts to wed her off for business deals. This was a time of joy for her doting father but one of despair for his beloved daughter. With every passing moment preparations were made and Chloé began to dread the event more and more. She had had so much bad luck as of late… She did not even want to imagine what would occur at her party.

Despite her trepidation concerning her birthday, the celebration was held regardless. That night the ball room was polished to a shine, the walls lined with expensive hors d'oeuvres, servants served flutes of champagne, pristine drapes bordered the large arching windows, and an exquisite chandelier hung proudly above the middle of the dance floor. Guests filtered through the wide set of French doors, and Chloé sweated as she eyed them from the stairs. At that moment she was hidden, peaking around the corner of the landing and fretting about what was yet to come. She was tempted to run and climb down from her bedroom window to escape her horrible situation. Just as she was about to make her escape, she heard her father announcing her introduction. This was the moment she had been dreading. She just knew that somewhere or somehow something was going to go terribly wrong.

Clenching her fists as she gripped her white ball gown, Chloé traipsed from her hiding place and out into the open. She wore a fake grin as she gracefully descended the stairs and waved her hand to those few she knew. Just as she was nearing the bottom, her shoe caught on the carpet along the following step, successfully launching her forward. All eyes went wide as she gasped and braced for the impact. Right when she expected her face to meet the floor, an arm reached beneath her stomach and halted her movement.

"Are you alright, Miss Bourgeois?" She was startled as a sweet, calming voice filled her ears. Chloé was slowly stood up and turned to face her savior. Breath taking. That was the only word she could use to describe him. Standing just above her height while she wore heels, the man was a breath of fresh air. His bright red locks pulled into a low ponytail was only accentuated by nearby candlelight, serving no further purpose than to entice the Bourgeois heiress. With bright teal irises that successfully mummed her, Chloé could not deny that this man was extremely attractive, more so than anyone she had ever met before. She was so enraptured with his beauty that she nearly missed his following words being whispered into her ear. "That could have been a terrible fall. I pray that your ankle has not turned." Even if it had, there was no possibility she could feel it at that moment, as she was too preoccupied turning into a puddle of goo.

"Nathanaël, for shame. Men should never lay a hand on a lady without permission! You must forgive my apprentice, André. His name is Nathanaël Kurtzberg, still but a commoner who knows no better." A rather short man clad in stuffy garments approached them while addressing Chloé's father, who trailed not far behind. As if startled, the man now known as Nathanaël suddenly paused with sudden exclamation.

"My apologies, Lord Bourgeois, Miss Bourgeois. Such behavior was presumptuous on my part." He bowed to each of them, as was tradition.

With a boisterous guffaw, her father replied, "There was no harm done. You are forgiven, my boy." Chloé remained speechless. Did her father not see what this man did for her? Did he not take notice how this man had saved both her reputation as well as herself from bodily harm? Nathanaël's actions had in fact been admirable.

"Regardless, Nathanaël, you are dismissed. The Mayor and I have certain matters to discuss." With having said those words, the young man complied to his master's whims, politely excusing himself. Chloé immediately yearned for the warm touch he had placed on her arm, how his hands had secured her from danger. Watching him depart from the group, she fanned herself, hoping that no one would notice her blush. Never in her life had she encountered someone so… mesmerizing.

The remainder of the evening was spent politely talking to fellow persons of intrigue, officials her father wished for her to meet. As her savior had feared, Chloé's ankle had indeed turned, so the sooner this hosting event was over the better. However, she made certain to keep an eye out for a Mr. Nathanaël Kurtzberg, who promised to be an almost guaranteed highlight for her night. It was only until an hour remained of the gala that she discovered him in the gardens, keeping to himself. Many guests had avoided venturing away from the party, so this left them almost completely to themselves. Gathering her courage, she approached him with bated breath. She eventually cleared her throat and gained his attention.

"Oh, Miss Bourgeois! I did not expect you to be away from the festivities… I mean… Uh, I have no say in your actions. Forgive me. Perhaps that was rude." He was obviously a bundle of nerves, having not been under such social circumstances. She smiled in endearment, finding his bashfulness charming.

"I came to speak with you, actually. I was not able to thank you for earlier." This surprised him, his eyes widening exponentially. "It was extremely undeserving, how those two handled the situation. They made no act of thanking you for your kindness or consideration. No one has done that for me in a long time." For several seconds, they gazed into each other's eyes. Nathanaël coughed into his gloved hand, blushing and turning away.

"If I am being honest, I was not expecting such appreciative words. Thank you, Miss Bour-."

"Chloé. You may call me Chloé." Her interruption earned her a blush so fierce it rivaled his hair. "And before you say that it is inappropriate, it only is when I say so. Do not become concerned with what others think." She considered his embarrassment charming as he fumbled for something to say. Thankfully, she progressed the conversation with a change in topic. "So, I understand that you were not raised in nobility."

"You are correct. My family is originally from the working district, and it is due to my father's connections that I was offered the position of apprenticeship under Monsieur Lesauvage."

"And what is your father's profession if you do not mind my asking?" Nathanaël smiled at the mentioning of his father.

"He is the owner of a canvas supply shop. I grew up helping him build frames and stretch the material." He paused and grimaced slightly. "I suppose you have no interest in such things."

"Truthfully, I am not familiar with the art myself, but I do appreciate the works created on them." At hearing this, the man grew more pleased.

"Actually, that is what I wish to do with my life. Ever since I was a child, I have admired the great painters of the past. I can only hope that I will gather such skill with practice." Chloé began to laugh.

"Now that you have told me, I can see you being an artist. Have you considered the position of court painter?"

"C-Court painter!? A man of little wealth like myself? Forgive me for saying so, Miss Bourgeois, but that is highly unlikely!" Chloé grasped Nathanaël's hand and looked him in the eye.

"It is not if you have the proper connections..."

"Are you implying what I think you are?"

"My father is to meet with his highness at the beginning of next month. I could convince him to introduce you and your talents. After all, I do owe you a favor for what you did earlier."

"But that position... Is it not appointed to someone who has done notable work?"

"You speak the truth. However," She placed a finger on Nathanaël's lips, causing him to swallow. "...even if you do not receive the position, you will be noticed for your skill and perhaps be employed by someone who is properly aware of your talents. Many nobles seek someone to create their portraits; it is an honorable profession."

"I do not understand. Why would you assist someone of my status?"

"Because... I..." Chloé hesitated, not entirely certain herself. Why did she care so for someone of such lower status? It was not only because he was attractive. No; it was more than that. "You remind of myself, desperate for something just out of reach. I want to give you that chance. Besides, I insist that until my father attends that meeting you have nothing to do with Monsieur Lesauvage. Instead, stay here. After all, I want to see how talented you really are."

TO BE CONTINUED

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(A.N.) After much procrastination, here is the continuation of "Familiar". This time we center in on Chloé Bourgeois and the inevitable occurrences leading to her fate. I am a real sucker for the peculiar pairing that is ChloéxNathanaël, so their relationship will be continued in a part two. Originally, this was meant to be only two chapters, but I decided to make it three instead. The reason for this is that I felt the set up for Chloé's story was too long. Next chapter will probably be full of mature content. Look forward to the next installment.