Letting go of his wrist long enough to wave his wand at the ceiling, Narcissa stops the rain, and they lie in a soaked ball in the large puddle in the middle of the room. Nothing else is wet, only themselves, and she grips his wrist with both hands like a lifeline. Eyes closed, her lashes are dark against her fair skin, and water clings to them as it clings to the rest of her, the thin silk of her camisole and knickers so transparent they might as well not be there.
"Too much explaining, if you drown," she murmurs. "No drowning."
She's completely forgotten that she'd come here to be an artist's model again.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2013-12-02 02:55 pm (UTC)"Too much explaining, if you drown," she murmurs. "No drowning."
She's completely forgotten that she'd come here to be an artist's model again.