medicating perfection

[vittoriaromano]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=width,500,true] [/style][style=background-image: url(http://i1088.photobucket.com/albums/i337/lacieejaneexx/600full-erin-heatherton2-1.jpg); height: 400px; width: 250px; float: left;] No one even took notice to the willowy, pajama clad girl that was meandering cautiously through the corridors of the darkened castle. Vittoria Romano was a prefect, making it perfectly acceptable if she was wandering patrolling on her duty. Funny enough, her prefect badge didn't seem to be anywhere in sight and it no wand seemed to be stowed away in her clothing. Still, with her status she was able to slip by without having the third degree pressed upon her. Having bouts of insomnia mixed in with night terrors also led to the professors having more of a leniency towards Vittoria. Her disposition had always been considerate and well mannered, to bar her from wandering to calm her nerves would have been marked as cruel. Only tonight she had more in mind than aimlessly traversing through the emptied corridors. Callum Deaumont had owled her the password to the Slytherin dormitory, presenting her with the opportunity to crawl into his bed whenever the night terrors became too much. Only recently he had become a piece that was urging to fit its way into the puzzle of her life. She had no objections to the pushy style that he had come to confront her with. He was more of a challenge than she had ever faced before. In some aspects it was refreshing to have him riled up over one of her mistakes or unexpectedly reach out to softly touch her. While in other ways Vittoria found that it seemed futile to kindle friendship with the Beauxbaton boy. Something unknown had shaped the person Vittoria was faced with, but a part of her was crying out that it wasn't natural. Pushing to uncover answers was not what she had resorted to, she was being infinitely patient with him and it was surely benefiting her. Night terrors hadn't dropped into her dreams while she desperately dozed off into seemingly peaceful sleep. Vittoria hadn't even made it into the lightest stage of sleep, regardless of the fact that the time was creeping towards two in the morning. Shrouded figures clouded the corner of her visions, terrifying her enough to numb the tiredness from her core. Dorian was now beginning to manifest in a physical sense, yet not as a solid as his being that was once flesh and bones. Vittoria rubbed at her eyes furiously, peering around the room with watery eyes to be met with nothing but a bland scene. Twenty minutes later she had finally talked herself into unfolding her crumpled self, glancing around frantically, and then dashing out of the room. Her thoughts had been racing to quickly for her to even begin to pick apart where she thought she was headed. Stone floors did not act as a very efficient heat conductor. The pads of her feet stung with the icy coolness of the dungeon floor, encouraging Vittoria to pick up her pace. Her flimsy pants and cotton shirt did not offer her warmth. She began to feel her teeth chatter, so she began to travel forward at a brisk pace. With an utterance of the correct password the dungeon wall parted for Vittoria, slowly beginning to close as soon as it had opened. Her lanky formed duck down, entering and gawking at the swanky interior of the nasty Slytherin common room. Gaping eyes only had a moment to absorb the steely glory of the serpents, she was shooting up into the boys dormitory at a breakneck pace. Suddenly, she was eager to lay her eyes onto Callum, knowing he was only a matter of yards away. Her enigma was stepping forward, urging her to fearlessly burst in and take place on his bed. Vittoria did exactly that, floating across the dormitory and dropping down onto Callum's bed. Her body was aligned with his, and even with the disruptions she had caused he still seemed to be resting. No thought was put into her next move. Her lips fluttered over his, pressing in for a chaste kiss to arouse from slumber. "Wake up to keep t-this damsel some c-company," she whispered, letting out a subdued giggle snort. [style=background-color:#FF82AB ; height: 20px; width: 500px;][/style]

[dana6]

[cs=2][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,2,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,480,true]
[cs=2] [style=font-family: times; font-size: 65px; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; text-align: center; text-transform: lowercase; letter-spacing: -4px; margin-bottom: -15px;]SO SHAKE HIM OFF IT'S HARD TO DANCE WITH THE DEVIL ON YOUR BACK [style=border-bottom: solid 1px #222;] What had he been thinking? Callum had stayed up later than usual that night, listening to the soft sighs of his roommates as they drifted off peacefully into sleep, no doubt dreaming of ways to please their rich parents by being haughty and having a holier-than-thou persona. Derision filled Callum’s veins as he shifted again in his bed, tucking his arms under his head and facing the wall. He didn’t belong here, that much he was sure of. He didn’t even belong in England, damn it. His temper rose, kindled by the absurdity of his situation, but Callum doused it quickly with a fresh wave of guilt. That had been what had killed his brother; his mind flashed images of his mother’s face, of the broken body. Callum squeezed his eyes tightly shut and bit his lip so viciously he drew blood. The seventeen year old hated nights; they left him too much time to think. One of his roommates sighed briefly in his sleep, and Callum opened his eyes again, the images still dancing wildly across his vision. The guilt that had put out his temper grew and grew until he felt like he was drowning in it, helpless against his own memories. Even Coriander’s small body slumbering peacefully at Callum’s feet couldn’t calm his tumultuous feelings. Normally, Callum would pick up the small kitten and hug him tightly to his chest, much to the cat’s delight. Coriander – who shared his namesake with Callum’s brother – would assuage the guilt that battered at his heart. If Callum thought to be grateful for anything, he probably would have been grateful for the one thing that loved him unconditionally. But perhaps the reason Coriander couldn’t calm Callum wasn’t just because of the memories of that night. Those scars remained, but new welts had appeared, brought about by Callum’s own rules that he’d set for himself when he came to Hogwarts as a seventh year: no one would be allowed to get close to him. He would be affectionate, outgoing, everyone’s friend, but he would be forgettable. How many students passed through Hogwarts whose names weren’t remembered? Hundreds, he reckoned. And he’d be one of them. Unfortunately, fate was fickle, and Vittoria had fallen, quite by accident, into his career at Hogwarts. Now, Callum found himself tangled within her; he’d pledged that he needed her because at the time, it was the thing she’d wanted to hear most. She had needed to hear that, and according to his rules – or perhaps something else, something he didn’t quite want to find out – he had to tell her that. However, the knowledge that this – holding hands, the offer to keep her company during her night terrors – was all just an act, and Vittoria was falling for it hook, line, and sinker, made Callum’s stomach turn. She deserves better. The wisp of a thought slid through his mind but was gone before Callum could even think to analyze it. “Forget about it, Callum,” he whispered to himself, rolling onto his back and closing his eyes, forcibly willing sleep to come to him. His dreams were fragmented. His brother, his mother, his father, and Vittoria all swirled about in his subconscious, eerie ghost-like figures that disappeared when he reached out for them. Half of him was aware that he was dreaming, but the other half was grappling at smoke and trying to get a grip on the mist of their insubstantial dream-bodies. At one point, he’d tried waking himself up, but to no avail; he was firmly planted in the terror of his own nightmare. The soft touch to his lips woke up, and Callum opened his eyes with a rather small shudder at having been awoken. It was Vittoria, only when he reached out to cup her face lightly and bring her down again for another kiss – it was all an act, all an act, his mind reminded him – his fingers met very real flesh and warmth. “Do damsels usually kiss their princes awake?” he murmured against her lips, closing his eyes again and letting a small smile creep over his lips. He shifted over carefully, afraid to make noise and wake any of the other Slytherin boys sleeping in the same room; he hadn’t been lying in his owls when he said he was a possessive lover. “Come in,” he whispered, lifting his covers slightly for her to slip in.[/style][/style]
[bg=222222]	[atrb=width,50][bg=a2783b]

[vittoriaromano]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=width,500,true] [/style][style=background-image: url(http://i1088.photobucket.com/albums/i337/lacieejaneexx/600full-erin-heatherton2-1.jpg); height: 400px; width: 250px; float: left;] She was nothing that a guy would ever possibly want or desire. Her stutter caused her to appear to be a frightened child, the way she slouched most likely transformed her into a dazzling hunchback, and other girls would have practically thrown themselves into the sea of attention Vittoria always seemed to receive. How easily she became flustered was no longer something viewed as endearing. Vittoria was seventeen years old, considered an adult by the Wizarding World. Boys she had grown up with were transforming into men, carnal young men. Swirling around her was the childish air that she refused to shed, even if slowly she was losing appeal. Driving attention from herself was something she could begin to feel thankful for. Callum Deaumont had been revealed to the section of her personality that been shut out, only channeled when she had the mask slipped onto her face. The mask. It had even developed its own righteous title. Paper mache covering shielding her face had birthed a directness Vittoria could have only fathomed such directness coming from her mother. A Beauxbaton’s transfer had worked an attitude out of her that she had never used to handle anybody. That night had even ended with a kiss, or a few, from the masked man she had grown fond of in only a matter of hours. When the mask was removed she had morphed back into her dim self, silently swearing that she would uncover her masked man. Measly prayers had been put towards hoping that he would accept her as a stuttering, inexperienced mess of a veela. He had melded to her instantly, seemingly to understand the flaws of her personality and wholly accept them. Vittoria couldn’t have asked for anything more. Something nearly smug bubbled up when she thought of how he had mentioned that he needed her. No one had ever needed Vittoria, so even hearing Callum say such a thing left her a little wary. Soon she pushed caution aside, figuring that she had already exposed enough of herself to the guy who barely passed for more than an acquaintance. This acquaintance still had Vittoria crawling into his bed, finding that she instantly felt more comforted knowing that his hulking form was near. Kissing him in his sleep was a tad invasive but boundaries seemed to be thrown aside with Vittoria from time to time. A simple, chaste kiss on the lips, that’s all it had been. Callum would react accordingly, Vittoira hoped. Shuddering had not been something that Vittoria would have anticipated, still it was a pleasure. Chilly fingers were cupping her face. Obediently she lowered her head to have her lips meet with his again. Naturally, her hands rested over top of his, transfusing warmth over his icy skin. “It a-all depends on the s-situation,” she shared with him, amused at her total show of nonsense. The presence of other guys dozing in the same room didn’t register to Vittoria, her feelings were aimed towards Callum. Easily, she dove under the covers, managing to remain fairly quiet. Her arms immediately went to sling around his middle, thrilled to feel the bareness of his skin. Heat crept into her face, causing her to giggle frantically, burying her face into his chest to keep silent. “Your bed seems like a m-much more p-preferred place a-already,” she mumbled out once her giggle fit had calmed. [style=background-color:#FF82AB ; height: 20px; width: 500px;][/style]

[dana6]

[cs=2][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,2,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,480,true]
[cs=2] [style=font-family: times; font-size: 65px; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; text-align: center; text-transform: lowercase; letter-spacing: -4px; margin-bottom: -15px;]SO SHAKE HIM OFF IT'S HARD TO DANCE WITH THE DEVIL ON YOUR BACK [style=border-bottom: solid 1px #222;] Callum felt a small stirring of guilt in his stomach as Vittoria wrapped herself delightedly around him and slid into the bed with him. She was warm-faced, he could tell by her burying her face into his bare chest, and when the covers fell over the two, Callum could feel the heat emanating from their two bodies. Coriander was, thankfully, undisturbed, as were Callum’s dormmates. They slumbered peacefully, unaware that prey had fallen into their midst. Good, Callum told himself rather viciously; he didn’t want to share, and besides, Vitt’s secret charm was his and his alone. Possessiveness didn’t fit well on Callum, but perhaps the guilt that throbbed in his body like a heartbeat fueled its presence there. She whispered out something to him, and Callum leaned in closer to her to listen. She stuttered, which somehow only increased her charm, in Callum’s opinion. There was something utterly real about the way Vittoria acted, and being so close to her only made him more aware how stained he truly was, not only in the guilt of his part in his brother’s death, but also in the way he’d lied to her, countless times already. He didn’t need her; he didn’t need anyone, save for Coriander, but he’d told her because it was what seemed proper at the time. He’d played his part too well; she believed him, and now every time she looked at him, every time she wound herself around him, Callum wanted to push her away and tell her to forget about the lie he’d told her. But he’d seen her tears, and although he hadn’t been the cause that time, he didn’t want to be the cause ever, because that would only send her into the arms of someone else, perhaps someone more genuine than himself. Guilt curled at the bottom of his stomach, and he gave her a rather painful smile in return, unable to throw up the walls around himself before he reacted. “Does it?” he murmured, closing his eyes, unwilling to look her straight in the eye. For some people, night made them fearless; they could do things they normally wouldn’t do, say things that would have never passed their lips. There was something secure about the night and the darkness that fell over the land, shielding everything from sight. It was at night that most walls came down, and people may have felt bolder and freer to do as they wished. For Callum, it was the opposite. At night, he was reminded again and again of who he was, of what he was, and what he had done. A thousand memories packed into each second for the hours between sunset and dawn, every one of them painful. It was enough to make Callum wish for the nothingness of unconsciousness, of death, even. At night, Callum curled up under his covers, feeling very much alone. But he couldn’t afford to do that now; Vittoria was here, and if he let his guard slip as it usually did at that time, she would be repulsed. Even worse, she would discover his duplicity, and then she would leave his life forever, scarred by the things he did and did not say. He hadn’t known her for long, but he imagined that there were already scars crisscrossing over her heart, and he didn’t want to be the cause of irrevocable change in another person’s life. Perhaps Callum was being arrogant; he had only known Vittoria for a few weeks at most, and yet, he was already considering his position in her life inflexible. But the thought of her pushing him away was hard to stomach, and Callum was forced to think, possibly, it was her position in his life that was unchangeable. It was ridiculous, but after Coriander died, Callum had spent months contemplating the action, wondering if he’d meant to do it and questioning the shattered remains of who he’d used to be. Perhaps now he was just catching up on life. “Did you have nightmares tonight?” he asked softly, eyes still closed, leaning forward just enough so that his lips brushed up against hers as he moved them.[/style][/style]
[bg=222222]	[atrb=width,50][bg=a2783b]

[vittoriaromano]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=width,500,true] [/style][style=background-image: url(http://i1088.photobucket.com/albums/i337/lacieejaneexx/600full-erin-heatherton2-1.jpg); height: 400px; width: 250px; float: left;] She was thoroughly grateful that the metamorphagus gene had skipped out on her and went directly to her sister. Ottavia was put in the limelight with her emotions seeing as she had not even the slightest control over her ability. Each time an emotion flared her hair would react accordingly with whatever color signified said emotion. Vittoria had become familiar with the color wheel that had stood as Ottavia’s hair. Currently, if Vittoria shared the same trait with Ottavia her hair would have been a light shade of pink that would only grow more obnoxious the longer she was surrounded by Callum. Shocking pink would be the most common color for the veela girl, with all the times he had left her flustered and flailing. Stuttering constantly was another effect that the Slytherin had on the anxious girl who had a habit for avoiding anyone aligned with the colors silver and green. He belonged in the house that caused her the most torment but his company was the one that she had come to prefer alongside many others. Only a few weeks of knowing each other but his presence was already imprinted deeply on Vittoria. He was a sort of numbing substance available to her when inner peril rose to a height she could not handle. Besides her own personal drug Callum had grown to stand as some sort of meaning in her life, currently at least. The masked man now had a face, a personality, and meant more to Vittoria than she had thought would even be a possibility. Her phantom had only entered her life for a night. The night where she had morphed into a butterfly, even when she had settled on living the rest of her life as a caterpillar tangled permanently in its cocoon. Back in her chrysalis she thought of it was a genuine surprise when Callum continued to linger around her. He had witnessed her at a moment of shame and extreme weakness. With a slew of gentle words and tender touch the opportunity to take advantage of her would have been pathetically easy. Such a thing hadn’t even entered his mind, which was the thought that assured Vittoria on the slightly shady character known as Callum Deaumont. Little information had been relayed about him. Everyone had their secrets, things they were reluctant to release. Even the timid veela girl. She had Callum, nothing else needed to be said since Vittoria was fully convinced in his solidity. Invading his time that was meant for sleep left it to be understandable when Callum closed his eyes. Vittoria gazed at him, calmed by how peaceful he seemed as he lay beside her. Urges to kiss various parts of his face had to be smothered. She was going to lie still in his arm, appreciate his closeness and willingness to handle her. She had interrupted his sleep only on the pretense that she wasn’t content with fending off dark monsters on her own. “You were the one who was s-sleeping. Technically that makes you Sleeping Beauty. The prince h-had to wake her up with a kiss. But in this case role r-reversal is permitted,” Tori rambled out, hastily and in a hushed tone. The hulking figure of Dorian looming in the corner of her gaze was the thing she was scrambling away from. Going to Callum for company had been her solution to push the encounter out of her mind. His question caused her to erupt into a tremor, her whole body shaking with dulled terror. More frantically her hands gripped at his chest in hopes of support. It was his lips moving against hers which stilled her. Shakily, she nipped softly at his lip. “I-I saw h-him a-a-again,” Vittoria managed to squeak out, her voice shrill. [style=background-color:#FF82AB ; height: 20px; width: 500px;][/style]

[dana6]

[cs=2][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,2,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,480,true]
[cs=2] [style=font-family: times; font-size: 65px; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; text-align: center; text-transform: lowercase; letter-spacing: -4px; margin-bottom: -15px;]SO SHAKE HIM OFF IT'S HARD TO DANCE WITH THE DEVIL ON YOUR BACK [style=border-bottom: solid 1px #222;] She was warm. Callum pressed up closer against her, almost on instinct; his eyes were still closed, savoring the feel of her hip underneath his hand. Somehow, it had landed there, lightly pressing down on her hip. How could she still be so warm, despite her thin clothes? His fingers lightly tugged at the hem of her shirt, seeking the warmth of her skin directly, rather than through a piece of fabric. He didn’t ask, but when she nipped his lips, he parted his lightly in a soft sigh that might’ve been mistaken for a sigh of sleep, had any of his roommates been awake. The blonde wondered wryly what they might do to him if they woke and found them together, wound together in Callum’s uncomfortably (or in this case, pleasantly) small bed. It was important to keep up appearances, he told himself, but her presence, the warmth of her skin against his icy hands, made small cracks in his mask. That, and being snuggled up underneath covers, made him reckless. More open. Upon her stammered admission, however, Callum’s eyes cracked open reluctantly, and he frowned, as he was supposed to. Callum didn’t even know himself if it was genuine or not, and the absence of control over his own chosen façade roiled his stomach, unsettling him. “Vittoria,” he breathed out, so lightly it could have been another sigh. Her full name rarely passed his lips, and Callum knew exactly why: her full name sounded like music, irresistible and dangerous like a siren’s. If he simply called her Vitt or Kitty, he could pretend that he didn’t… that he wasn’t… “I’m sorry, Vitt,” he said softly, fully aware of the proximity of their lips. Every motion he made, every word he murmured to her caused their lips to brush up against each other, and his hand on her hip tightened just slightly. “Do you want to talk about it?” He asked quietly, refusing the urge to pull her in closer and crush her against him, not unlike a large stuffed animal. Callum’s voice was clear, but his eyelids felt heavy, and he blinked them several times while he stared at her. Her blue gaze… he remembered it from the Halloween event the castle had held only a few months ago. They’d kissed – more than once – and Callum angled his head just slightly so that their lips would meet again. It was a light touch, more a pressing of lips than an outright kiss. Perhaps Callum should have done the latter; that one, at least, he could have blamed on hormones. After all, Vittoria was half-veela. Any other guy would’ve been delighted at having her in his bed, especially (from what Callum noticed) the Slytherin seventh years. He could have easily told himself that he was keeping her at a distance, kissing her so roughly. But Callum didn’t. His lips drew away from hers seconds after they’d first touched, and Callum’s drowsy mind pulled up a dark thought, deep from the recesses of his mind. He’d preferred the light kiss. Callum was not immune to the desires of his flesh; he’d had his fair share of kisses, some hot and heavy, others light and chaste. He’d always preferred the former. Wouldn’t most, particularly if the other party was extremely attractive? Light kisses, he’d been told by his peers at Beauxbaton’s, were reserved for family members and friends. Kisses on the cheek fell under that category, as did kissing old Auntie Muriels at family reunions. Never for a girl, because that would mean something other than simple lust ruled Callum. Lust was definitely a part of the equation – Callum knew, and his fingers tightened a little bit more at her hip – but was there, perhaps, something else? The seventh year didn’t want to know. A small meow came from the foot of his bed, and Callum almost grinned. A soft weight padded up the length of Callum’s body and plopped itself in the cavity between their two bodies, burrowing into the blanket there and giving a rusty purr. A softness came over Callum’s face – he knew because he could feel the rigid lines in his mouth softening, his eyes becoming a little less like his veela ancestor’s hawk-like appearance – and he chuckled lowly. “Have you met Coriander, yet?” [/style][/style]
[bg=222222]	[atrb=width,50][bg=a2783b]

[vittoriaromano]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=width,500,true] [/style][style=background-image: url(http://i1088.photobucket.com/albums/i337/lacieejaneexx/600full-erin-heatherton2-1.jpg); height: 400px; width: 250px; float: left;] She could not be more clueless to the turmoil Callum was feeling within, though evident cracks had been revealed to her on several occasions. Hints had been dropped and ignored time and time again. Nothing but tranquility existed the moment she crawled under his covers to come within his care. A solid security was now established in the tininess of his bed, two forms closely pressed together, and resting on her hip while she burrowed into his chest. Deteriorating Callum wasn’t shown to Vittoria despite how close they were physically and even dare say emotionally. His soft sigh onto her lips had been highly unexpected, far from unpleasant, but not something Vittoria would have thought to anticipate. Callum was not the one who showed Vittoria anymore affection than she silently plead for. The combination of his hand and the sigh puzzled Vittoria silently, though the question soon was laid to rest. Her stare had been directed at some point in the darkness of the room she was unable to discern. Removed from the place where the terror of the night had still begun did not assure that haunting memories would leave her in peace. Clear images of her father had imprinted on her eyelids after his death when she futilely wished he would appear before her for an appropriate goodbye. Rarely her entire name ever passed through Callum’s lips, even more unique that he sighed it out. Quickly she was growing more worried over Callum. Was it just evident tiredness or something larger she had been blissfully ignoring? “Callum,” she breathed out gently, fearful that if she spoke in louder tones she would disrupt the quietness. How much colorful anger would Vittoria create if she accidentally aroused one of his slumbering roommates with her shrill voice? It was better not to think of such a thing. “Please don’t a-apologize to me. You don’t c-create the nightmares, I-I do…” her stuttering words argued softly against him. Eternally she was pleased at feeling his hand grasp tightly against her hip. Any affection he expended on her made it feel as if she was truly, genuinely needed. Content washed away at his question, face draining to a chalky white, managing to make Vittoria appear a repulsive shade. “N-n-no. My t-terrors stay c-concealed,” she chattered out, lips brushing against his in a slightly frantic state. These kisses varied from the heavy ones shared over the Halloween night, placed under the shimmering rays of the moon. Purposely Callum tilted his head in a fashion that would only cause their lips to gently touch against each other. Eagerly she could have fallen into a hotter kiss most other guys would have roughly shoved upon her. Surprises were brought to Vittoria in a way that left her feeling awed at Callum and how he chose to go about. Light kisses had a more definite meaning, Vittoria believed, than the sort that occurred when two heaving bodies collided in the broom closet. Exactly what was Callum showing to her with this bunch of chaste kisses? A flushed face watched him inquisitively, pondering in a pool of answers that would never provide her with a clear answer. It was enough to settle with the assumption Callum steadily seemed to be growing fonder of her presence. Thoughts drew Callum away from the blond girl lying closely behind him. At least that was the way it appeared with his wide gaze peering off at something Vittoria could not pin down as an actual location. In response she allowed her own swirling mind pull her into the dangerous sea of choppy waves and pressing thoughts. Strange as it seemed, and classified as something highly out of character, Vittoria couldn’t have felt more content than she did splayed out beside Callum with hands possessively placed on her body. Absently her fingers traced down the side of his face, outlining his jaw, whisking down his neck before warm palms pressed against his chilled chest. Even if the darkness Vittoria’s soft smile could be made out. Mewling kittens were not supposed to pad out from the foot of beds. Yet a cat, Coriander Callum had called it, surfaced with a furry face turned earnestly towards its master. She stared down at the kitten, who had now comfortably placed himself between the two, before her face softened in the same way that Callum’s had. “No, I have not had the joy to meet your companion,” Vittoria quietly answered, voice steadied with a subtle confidence. Her fingers brushed down Callum’s chest before meeting the fur on Coriander’s back. [style=background-color:#FF82AB ; height: 20px; width: 500px;][/style]

[dana6]

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[cs=2] [style=font-family: times; font-size: 65px; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; text-align: center; text-transform: lowercase; letter-spacing: -4px; margin-bottom: -15px;]SO SHAKE HIM OFF IT'S HARD TO DANCE WITH THE DEVIL ON YOUR BACK [style=border-bottom: solid 1px #222;] Callum shivered at her touch on his bare skin. He’d never given much thought to how he should dress while he slept, but now, the seventh year couldn’t help but be thankful that his usual attire for bed consisted of comfortable pajama pants and nothing else. He leaned forward and kissed her again, unable to help himself. Her fingers were like tiny pinpricks of warmth on his cold chest, and Callum shifted closer to absorb some of the heat. The Slytherin boy was perpetually cold, so it seemed reasonable that he was drawn to someone who was warm. Vittoria was warm-hearted, sweet; her stutter was endearing. Her face was constantly flushed with his presence, and Callum found himself pleased that he could illicit such a response from her. However, a faint whispering reminder snaked in his mind. When you chilled something to preserve it, you didn’t make it colder; the cold simply sapped the heat until it reached equilibrium, leaving the warmth frozen, drained of all energy. His eyes had softened when he looked at Coriander, and they softened even more as he looked at Vittoria. Her hands left two warm imprints on his chest, branding him gently with her presence, and he watched her as Coriander let loose a string of rusty purrs at the attention. “Coriander, Vittoria. Vittoria, Coriander.” The little cat raised its head slightly, large, luminous eyes blinking in the dark, and Callum could almost see the questioning twitch of the cat’s whiskers at the mention of his name. Callum’s face softened more, scraping away at the persona he affected and showing Callum’s other side – the one that still held traces of the scars he’d created for himself. His large hand went to pat the little cat’s head affectionately before shifting slightly to look at Vittoria straight on. In the night, Callum felt no desire to conceal himself more than he already had, but it seemed he’d have no choice. A small twinge of guilt tugged at his heart, but Callum brushed that aside when he adopted an injured tone. “I wish you didn’t hold everything inside, Vitt,” he murmured to her, their faces so close that Callum thought that if he closed his eyes, his lashes might brush against her skin. He, however, fought against the urge to test that theory and kept his eyes on hers for a moment before letting them flit across her face. Callum took in the curve of her cheek, the small pout in her lips, and another, more powerful feeling of guilt wracked through him as he gathered the courage he’d need to say his next words. “You can trust me.” What a lie. Callum could feel it sear his tongue, and if Vittoria hadn’t been so close, he might’ve drawn his face into a nasty, disgusted look at his own terribleness. He was tempted, even now as she lay so close to him. Perhaps then she would know to stay away from him—far enough away from him that she would be removed from whatever harm might come to her because of his actions. Callum wondered if they were close enough that it would hurt her as much as he imagined it would hurt him. He raised a hand to touch her cheek lightly, almost against his will, and his fingers ran gently over her soft skin, feeling the structure of her face underneath the pads. She was definitely veela, Callum knew; he’d been around enough to recognize the dull glow they emanated, particularly if they were so close to their veela ancestor. He’d seen her sister—Ottavia, was it?—but for Callum, not even her identical twin carried the precise aura that Vittoria did. It was something completely unique, but then, should Callum really have been surprised? After all, he’d never really met a stuttering veela before, half or otherwise. It was a breath of fresh air for him. After his fingers had discovered her face, Callum tucked a wisp of blonde hair behind her ear and let his hand rest there for a moment before he tucked it under his head. “Let me in,” he whispered almost pleadingly. The words tasted of vinegar, but Callum swallowed the bitterness and guilt, his gaze searching hers. [/style][/style]
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[vittoriaromano]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=width,500,true] [/style][style=background-image: url(http://i1088.photobucket.com/albums/i337/lacieejaneexx/600full-erin-heatherton2-1.jpg); height: 400px; width: 250px; float: left;] Callum’s dress for sleep was severely lacking in any coverage for the body. Had Vittoria been in his place she would have resulted in shrugging on a jumper. Shivers constantly invaded her sleep throughout the night when she attempted to wear skimpy shorts with a camisole. Thick wool leggings had grown to be her favorite type of winter wear because of how well they warmth fought off the frigidness of the castle. She was contented to consider herself Callum’s personal heater each time she would creep into his bed throughout the winter season. Much like the weather the season carried onto the world Callum seemed to be the very same way. Coldness greeted the tips of her fingers when they pressed to the revealed skin of his chest. Against her fingers she felt him shivering, assuming that it was the spots of heat that now flecked his body. Suddenly her slightly parted mouth was taken by Callum’s own glacial once. A delicate breath exhaled against his lips before she pulled away to gaze at him with lively blue orbs. More animation colored his face, which Vittoria had noted could be likened to a marble statue, at the sight of the kitten padding haughtily between the two. Adoration towards pets was something Vittoria could be made familiar with considering the pets on top of pets she owned. At the age of thirteen her mum had to remove the twins from their room in order to remodel it onto a larger scale. Their menagerie of exotic animals transformed into pets had flowed into their sleeping quarters. Each of her companions had grown to fill their own compartment in her heart, the very same way she witness Coriander affecting Callum in a way which Vittoria never could. He seemed to be quite the dignified sort of feline that Vittoria could easily deem as companionable, showing quite simply why Callum had been quick to grow fond. Fur blanketing the kitten’s back radiated even more warmth than Vittoria, an ideal thing to grasp in the chilled environment of the dormitory. “What a pleasure to meet you,” she cooed to the mass of fur resting between their two bodies. Callum had full rights to the cat, which is why she let her hand fall onto the bed to enable him to grapple Coriander as wished. A stare clouded with sleep traveled back up to her eyes still dappled with haziness. In the silence she flashed Callum a sheepish smile; hesitantly her eagerness was unveiled to him through the curve of her lips. No one was aware of the full extent of the nightmares that shook Vittoria to the marrow of her bones nearly every night. Since their spurring of their companionship Callum had only been fed bits of a few of the terrors that invaded the flimsy layer of serenity Vittoria had been able to form. Nausea set in with Callum’s plead to pull back the curtain on her worst enemy, accompanied with a shiver brought on by the close proximity of their faces. They could very well share a breath with how much space failed to exist between the two. “W-why would you want to b-be told such h-horrors?” Her stuttering only sharpened with the disbelief that sunk into her tone. After exhaling a shaky breath she gently clamped her fingers around his wrist saying, “I-I trust you. Trust. Callum had quickly transformed into an unexpected security for the girl who felt like everything in the world was now foreign and unknown. Stranger and foreign as well it came across as unlikely that she would place her trust within him. Perhaps it did not present itself as a sensible choice, but after their initial meeting at the Halloween Fair Vittoria lost sense of all things logical. Soft pleads from Callum touched Vittoria with realization of how desperately he wanted to know of her personal pains. His fingers explored her face while Vittoria busied her own hands with grasping lightly at his collarbones. Silence stretched out, albeit not the uncomfortable sort, to serve as a thoughtful space for Vittoria. Let him in. It was the only direct request Callum had given her when she had been scraping for anything he would offer. “H-he is with me a-all the time. I know h-he is dead but he n-never leaves,” she babbled out, mouth moving like a motor. Now he would believe that she was a lunatic. Closing her eyes she breathed out slowly, mentally talking herself into calmness. [style=background-color:#FF82AB ; height: 20px; width: 500px;][/style]