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HP fanfic: Prey (Walden Macnair)
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deatheaterdrabs Round Four: Walden Macnair.
Title: Prey
Word Count: 610
Rating: R for heavy implications.
Summary: It seems there were many different kinds of prey to be found in the wizarding world.
Warnings: none, surprisingly
Prompt: "And I'll love you... if you won't make me stop." ~ Charles Manson
Not every girl was the type to be impressed by Walden Macnair's collection of trophies, macabre souvenirs of creatures who, even in life, had never been beautiful: much like Walden himself. The Malfoys and Rosiers of the world had more than their share of women panting after them, men who even in adulthood remained pretty boys. Walden had never been a pretty boy and that suited him fine. He preferred the "dirty work" others turned up their noses at, preferred the thrill of the chase and the hunt, the delicious tension of that moment between life and death. He liked girls who liked that moment, too. Girls whose eyes got smoky when he talked about the hunt, who licked their lips in anticipation of that ultimate moment. His next conquest didn't yet know she was that kind of girl.
He'd been watching her for a while, as he always watched his prey. Gathering information, noting habits. Planning his approach, his strike, the ensuing struggle before she succumbed. And she would succumb; she wanted it, deep down. She liked to be chased - she was never the pursuer. She liked, needed to be possessed - she was never long between relationships, and her boyfriends were always strong, dominant: Quidditch players; Aurors; ambitious, confident young men. She fancied herself a fairy tale princess in a tower. But she didn't want a prince, though they fell all over themselves to climb to her. No, none of them lasted. None of them had what she didn't know she wanted.
When Walden asked her out, she hesitated. He wasn't surprised or offended; he knew he was intimidating, an image he had gone to no small effort to maintain. If anything, he was pleased with her attempt at resistance.
"I don't know, Macnair," she demurred with a pretty frown.
"Afraid of what your friends might say? Or your parents?" he challenged, and her dark eyes flashed.
"Why should I care? I'm my own woman," she declared.
He smiled. "Then have dinner with a dangerous man."
Few people knew Walden well enough to know that he could actually be quite charming when he chose to be, and he watched her surprise throughout dinner as she realized she was enjoying herself. Quite a lot, actually. She wasn’t so different from other girls, who thrilled at the idea of a Bad Man.
She liked it so much that she let him escort her home, let him push her against a wall and slide her skirt up her thigh. She made breathless little moans between kisses and he pressed harder against her.
She shook her head a little, avoiding his lips. “It’s only a first date.”
“Make me stop,” he dared her, his words a growl against the delicate skin of her neck, and she trembled but said nothing. Just another soft moan as her fingers pressed tighter into his shoulders.
He wrapped her legs around his hips and carried her to the bedroom. He had thought she would put up a bit more resistance, but it was pleasant to be surprised. She tugged at his clothes, and soon he was enjoying the way her fingernails raked his skin - crossing scars from other, much less pleasant claws and teeth.
~*~
She married Zabini years later, and Walden was amused when the poor sod met his untimely and suspicious end. She found a new father for her young son quickly enough, though he didn’t fare much better than the first. It seems there were many different kinds of prey to be found in the wizarding world, and she amassed an impressive collection of houses and last names. They were her trophies.
deatheaterdrabs Round Four: Walden Macnair.Title: Prey
Word Count: 610
Rating: R for heavy implications.
Summary: It seems there were many different kinds of prey to be found in the wizarding world.
Warnings: none, surprisingly
Prompt: "And I'll love you... if you won't make me stop." ~ Charles Manson
Not every girl was the type to be impressed by Walden Macnair's collection of trophies, macabre souvenirs of creatures who, even in life, had never been beautiful: much like Walden himself. The Malfoys and Rosiers of the world had more than their share of women panting after them, men who even in adulthood remained pretty boys. Walden had never been a pretty boy and that suited him fine. He preferred the "dirty work" others turned up their noses at, preferred the thrill of the chase and the hunt, the delicious tension of that moment between life and death. He liked girls who liked that moment, too. Girls whose eyes got smoky when he talked about the hunt, who licked their lips in anticipation of that ultimate moment. His next conquest didn't yet know she was that kind of girl.
He'd been watching her for a while, as he always watched his prey. Gathering information, noting habits. Planning his approach, his strike, the ensuing struggle before she succumbed. And she would succumb; she wanted it, deep down. She liked to be chased - she was never the pursuer. She liked, needed to be possessed - she was never long between relationships, and her boyfriends were always strong, dominant: Quidditch players; Aurors; ambitious, confident young men. She fancied herself a fairy tale princess in a tower. But she didn't want a prince, though they fell all over themselves to climb to her. No, none of them lasted. None of them had what she didn't know she wanted.
When Walden asked her out, she hesitated. He wasn't surprised or offended; he knew he was intimidating, an image he had gone to no small effort to maintain. If anything, he was pleased with her attempt at resistance.
"I don't know, Macnair," she demurred with a pretty frown.
"Afraid of what your friends might say? Or your parents?" he challenged, and her dark eyes flashed.
"Why should I care? I'm my own woman," she declared.
He smiled. "Then have dinner with a dangerous man."
Few people knew Walden well enough to know that he could actually be quite charming when he chose to be, and he watched her surprise throughout dinner as she realized she was enjoying herself. Quite a lot, actually. She wasn’t so different from other girls, who thrilled at the idea of a Bad Man.
She liked it so much that she let him escort her home, let him push her against a wall and slide her skirt up her thigh. She made breathless little moans between kisses and he pressed harder against her.
She shook her head a little, avoiding his lips. “It’s only a first date.”
“Make me stop,” he dared her, his words a growl against the delicate skin of her neck, and she trembled but said nothing. Just another soft moan as her fingers pressed tighter into his shoulders.
He wrapped her legs around his hips and carried her to the bedroom. He had thought she would put up a bit more resistance, but it was pleasant to be surprised. She tugged at his clothes, and soon he was enjoying the way her fingernails raked his skin - crossing scars from other, much less pleasant claws and teeth.
~*~
She married Zabini years later, and Walden was amused when the poor sod met his untimely and suspicious end. She found a new father for her young son quickly enough, though he didn’t fare much better than the first. It seems there were many different kinds of prey to be found in the wizarding world, and she amassed an impressive collection of houses and last names. They were her trophies.