Title: Grasping the Concept
Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns all. I own the plot
Spoilers: OotP, and my story Expert Tutelage
Summary: It was there, and neither one of them seemed to grasp it at all.
A/N: Prequel to Expert Tutelage
. Some light smuttiness ahoy. Grasping the Concept
It all began with her choice to become a member of the Inquisitorial Squad. Her whole future was pretty much decided then and there. It had chosen her path for her, rather than letting her choose. Because she had joined her fellow Slytherins so easily, she would be expected to join him as well.
Millicent Bulstrode sank into the hot water of the Prefects bath. She was enjoying the bath, the hot water rushing over her skin and taking the grit and grim away. Her skin was pale in the flickering light, except of course for the livid purple and black bruises that showed up occasionally. She was getting hexed more often, and the cold stone floors that made up ninety percent of the school‘s flooring, much like her classmates, were unforgiving.
Millicent leaned farther back into the water to rinse her dirty hair. She was through in her chore, massaging her fingers into the thick tangle of black hair. She gingerly touched the bruise on her left temple. She hissed through her teeth, cursing whichever one of those stupid Weasley twins it was that had put her in a full body bind.
“Stupid bastards.” she moaned, her fingers skimming over the considerable bump.
It was their fault that she was here, after hours and using Pansy’s password to get into the Prefects bath. Pansy had only found her a half an hour ago. Stubbornly, she’s shrugged off Pansy’s help and had made her own to the bath. Her ego, along with muscles that Millicent didn’t even know she had possessed, were bruised and hurt. She idly trailed her fingers over the still water of the bath.
She could hear her mother’s condemning voice in her ears. If you were half the sorceress your grandmother was, you’d have those fools crawling at your feet, Millie my girl! Instead, you act as if you’ve no skill at all.
Millicent fisted her hands, and sank them into the calm water. A hot tear coursed over her cheek, and she could picture the heavy family crest that had once been worn by the infamous Maleficent Banning. It was her legacy and curse all in one. She was strong enough to wear it, but not strong enough to wield it.
“It’s not as if Mother
could ever even do that.” she said bitterly.
It was stupid of her to be so upset all over a Weasley. Their excuse, even if Millicent wanted to bring it up against them, would be that they couldn’t tell that she was a girl. She wasn’t so deluded that she believed herself to be a great beauty. Millicent knew that she, unfortunately, took after her father in many ways. His penchant to listen to a Malfoy and actually follow orders was one of his traits she seemed to inherit. Certain physical resemblances were another. She was still a girl, however much the other students thought it impossible, Millicent sometimes wished she was treated like one. No one would want to listen to a girl that towered over half the student body complain that she was being treated unfairly.
Millicent leaned back into the spray of the water, soaking her head in the hot water. Carefully avoiding the bruises, she worked the shampoo into her scalp. Once she was satisfied that there was enough, she leaned back again. Letting the water race over her skin, she peered out at herself. Her hips were hidden beneath the bubbling water thick with foam and scented soap suds. Her breasts bobbed above the water, stretched by her upraised hands that worked tiredly to get the shampoo from her long dark hair. She caught her reflection in one of the mirrors that hung to the left of the bath. Her eyes widened a bit as her gaze locked on something in the mirror.
Fred Weasley slipped quietly into the Prefects bath. George had been too preoccupied by Alicia to join him, so the infamous duo was now a solo act. Ron had let it slip that Malfoy and the other Slytherin prefects left their toiletries in there unattended. After blackmailing his younger brother into giving him the password, Fred had slipped into the prefects bath with every intention in the world of putting a 72 hour irreversible hair dye spell and various other Wheezes prototypes into the Slytherin bathing potions, powders, and such.
There had been three catches in his master plan. One, he’d almost been caught by the Goon squad hours earlier when he’d been getting his secret stash. A body bind had handled his would be attacker well enough, and Fred hadn’t given the bloke a single thought since then. Two, George had backed out on him. And three, well, three was a doozy of a catch. To put it simply, there was a naked girl in the bath.
Her dark hair streamed behind her in the spray of the spout. Her breasts, which seemed fuller than those of most of the girls at Hogwarts, swayed in the water. Her lean stomach narrowed then curved generously to where the water obstructed the rest of her body. Fred could only imagine what the water hid. He expected an outraged cry, her skin to flush red with embarrassment, heavy objects to be hurled at his head. Something
. But it was almost as if she didn’t see him, because she rose up from her bath, water coursing down her body. Her left hand flexed outward as she called a towel to her side.
Fred knew he should look away. Everything his mother had ingrained into him and even the knowledge that he himself would have strangled any guy who’d caught his baby sister in the tub naked as the day she was born, couldn’t make him look away. He counted the seconds, waiting for her to wrap the towel tightly around the breasts he couldn’t tear his gaze away from. Instead, the towel went firmly around her hips as she strode down the stone steps of the tub. Fred tried to be a gentleman and look away, but bloody everlasting hell, when had he ever been a gentleman?
Her dark hair was still wet and clung to her shoulders. She raised her dark eyes to his face. Fred felt his throat go dry. He should say something. Merlin knew there were few times that a Weasley twin couldn’t find something clever to say. This however, seemed to be one of the very few times he couldn‘t think of anything. She gave him a small smirk. Who was she? He couldn’t remember ever seeing her. She wasn’t a Gryff. He would have remembered a girl like this if he was in the same house as her. Not a Hufflepuff, she’d have been blushing up a storm. Maybe a Ravenclaw. A Ravenclaw girl would have made a perfectly logically explanation on why it was silly for her to cover up her breasts - it was simple human anatomy after all. She looks like an Egyptian goddess,
he thought inanely. It made no sense for him to think like that. He’d seen naked girls before, and he hadn’t compared any of them to Egyptian goddesses when he’d seen them naked. Of course, they’d been nervous and feeling awkward at the time. That was it, she had all the confidence of Cleopatra, strutting about as if her naked self owned the Prefects bath. Being indignant got something else stirring besides his overworked hormones. She was about a foot and an half away from him. She was as tall as him, an inch or so shorter. Her dark eyes locked on his and a smirk played on her lips.
“Well, well, well,” she said in a low, purring voice. “If it isn’t one of the infamous Weasley twins, caught after hours in a place he oughtn’t be. And caught by a member of the Inquisitorial squad at that.”
Oh, those were brave words. Millicent wasn’t quite sure what came over her, what in the world had possessed her to strut about half naked in front of a Weasel. But it had been so easy to drop him on his ass like that. It was so well deserved. She merely wanted to show him the bruises he had left on her, show him the damage his little prank had done to her. Show him he was a fool, and that she was above him. To show him that he couldn’t break her.
It felt nice though, when he was staring at her with something akin to attraction in his eyes. Her body had burned a little at his stare. Her voice had come out deep, for she hadn’t been able to use it for hours since his little prank. She watched as he blinked at her words. Let them sink in that she was a Slytherin. Let him wonder what she was going to do to him. It would give her time to think, but right now his wand was still in his hand and hers was over with her clothes. She could have easily accio
ed it over. But she didn’t.
“Since when are the Prefects baths open to Umbridge’s stooges?” Weasley snapped.
“And since when do the school pranksters have the right to go about the school unchecked? Planning on jumping me again?” The words snapped out bitterly. “Or have you come to admire your handiwork?”
She pushed him back a bit and stood directly beneath one of the lights. He blinked, staring again at her exposed flesh. It was a miracle that he could stop staring at her breasts. Instead, his eyes were drawn to the livid purple bruises on her flesh. There was a dark L-shaped mark on her hip, another large bruise on her shoulder. She moved closer, so he could see what he had done to her. He stepped back automatically. Spurred on by his retreat, Millicent watched his eyes for just a moment letting the shock sink in.
“But then again, you are a sainted
Gryffindor, and a Weasley to boot. You’re immune from having to suffer the consequences of your actions,” she cried shrilly, unable to check her anger. “I’m just one of the Goon squad, what does it matter if I’m hurt? I’m not a Gryffindor
“Now wait just a damn minute there. I didn’t do anything to you.”
“Can’t even remember as far back as a few hours, Weasley?” She paused, there were two of them. He might have not been the one who’d jinxed her. His eyes went wide again, and Millicent knew that she did have the right twin.
“That was you?”
“Yeah, that was me, unarmed and by myself walking back to my dormitory,” Millicent snapped. She shoved at him again.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t think -”
“What a shocker there!” she scoffed, “A Weasley not thinking.”
“Oy, knock it off. I’m trying to apologize.” He grabbed her by the shoulders, trying to stop her from shoving him again.
“Let go of me.” Her eyes were dark, and anger burned deep in them. “I don’t want your apology.”
“Well, that’s too damn bad, because you’ve got it,” Fred snapped, his fingers digging into her shoulders.
“Get off!” Millicent shoved hard at him, trying to corner him to gain the upper hand.
“Stop it, you’ll break your neck,” Fred’s footing slipped on the puddle she’d created in her march from the tub.
“As if you’d really give a damn if I broke my neck. You weren’t so concerned -whoa!” Millicent slipped as well. Her hands dug painfully into his chest as she slid into him.
Fred didn’t know how to react. She’d collided into before he’d had time to brace himself. He fell backwards, crashing into the wall. Because of the death grip she had on him, she fell with him. Her breathing was ragged as she lay still for a moment, her half naked body sprawled on top of him. Fred did the only thing he could do. Well, two
things. He laughed. Millicent glared up at him through hooded eyes. Before she could yell at him again, he reached up and pulled her mouth to his.
Millicent stiffened, her lips cold and unmoving. He could be teasing her, finding this to be another on of his cruel tricks he could brag about to the Gryffindors. He pulled back, breaking the kiss. He frowned.
“What was that?” he demanded.
“You tell me, you’re the idiot who just laughed at me and then tried to kiss me,” Millicent said hotly.
“I’m not talking about that,” he snapped. She opened her mouth to speak, but he leaned forward and kissed her again.
His kisses weren’t exactly repulsing. Compared to what she was used to, they were damn fine kisses. There was a moment of hesitation on her part. Fred deepened the kiss, and Millicent found herself kissing him back, low humming working it’s way through her body. Her breasts were crushed against his chest as he pulled her lower. Her fingers dug in tighter. Fred gave a small hiss of pain. Millicent’s eyes fluttered open.
“Sorry, Weasley. It was an accident,” Millicent said smirking.
“If you don’t want a bloke to get the wrong idea, you’d better get a better wardrobe than that towel,” his voice was rough, and his eyes darkened a bit.
“Sorry, my other clothing makes people think I am
“They’re fools,” he said quietly.
Millicent blinked. She squirmed against him, preparing to flee. But strong callused hands wrapped themselves around her arms. He placed a soft kiss on the corner of her mouth. Millicent shivered.
“Who are you?” His eyes caught hers.
“Which one are you?”
Fred stiffened. She was the same age as Ron, two years his junior. She pushed away from him again, but Fred kept his grip on her arms. Then the name hit him. He gave her a crooked smile. Millicent blinked.
“Yeah,” she said slowly.
“I think this is the beginning of an interesting friendship,” he murmured, pulling her down into another kiss. “No offense, but right now, I’m kinda glad I hexed you.”
“Is that what they’re calling it these days?” Millicent chuckled.
“I must have known that this was how I wanted to get you all along.”
“You flatter yourself too much, Weasley,” she smirked. “An hour ago, you thought I was a boy.”