Scrutinizing the girl, the frown waned, as a flummoxed expression replaced it, spanning the wholeness of his factions with devious hints of contriteness, just when the words ‘I’m sorry’ accompanied the most melodic and perhaps mellow voice he had ever had the pleasure to hark at. For the oddest of reasons or motives, the bloke detained himself from the jaunting of thoughts and the riling exerted upon the lady, unfoundedly. Nevertheless, the man sneered at her, almost wheezing whilst letting his feet landed faultlessly on the flooring with a small leap.

“Is it perhaps my ears are deluding me… or did I listen to you apologising?” Roux slant against the wall behind him, just as he let the lowest part of his leg crossed behind his other leg, inclining his body so the weight rested entirely on it, displaying his nonchalant bearing to her, quite unconsciously, as if his lack of proper attire wouldn’t suffice to determine he was a scoundrel. “You didn’t do anything wrong… did you?” both brows arching, in a sign of affirmation, as attesting something he was certain of. “Why would you grovel when there’s not a single proof of a crime?” he slurred, mixing his French accent with some idiotic scottish brogue he had acquired in the meantime of his stay. A simple, yet long laughter ensued, the bloke inspecting the hallways as he roved his attention sideways and then to the staircase ahead, nodding briefly at himself as he shovelled inside his trouser pockets to draw out a metal container, slim and garish – too ostentatious for his taste, but it was a gift from his father.

The Slytherin cracked the object open before him, extracting a slender cigarette from within, taking out his wand from a flank-pocket in his denim jacket, lighting up the tip with a barely alive spark that he aimed for the smoke. Inhaling deeply and repeatedly, he was able to light it on, and wallow in the tantalizing flavour of the nicotine rushing through his throat and to his lungs. He held the cigarette with his lips, as he stowed everything back to place, from wand to the box. Smoking proved to have some tension-releasing and even mollifying effect on him, and with such titbits of rage threating to spring, he was ought to soothe himself down.

“What I blathered about seconds ago… is that if you aren’t in a hurry to catch up on your lessons…” a query, more meant as an exclamation escaped his lips, barely, quite interrupted by the smoke’s intromission. The bloke placed his right on it, wrapping it softly as he set it apart of them, exuding the hazing substance through his breath, as his eyes finally focused on the girl, assaying at her response. It wouldn’t mind him if she said she was, because that would be the perfect excuse to persuade her from doing otherwise.

From the looks of it, the supple figure of the girl, so delicate in line and shape, contrasting with his burly appearance, it somehow provoked a sense of elation as he glommed on it, almost like sifting through the curves her body produced on her clothes – for the slightest the glimpses could seem. The man let his hand receded a little and shook the small stick in his hand by letting it jab against his thigh gently, as the ashes scattered to the cobbled stone surface, with a tedious, yet cheeky smirk on his factions. Roux placed the tobacco back into his lips as he pressed firmly with them to maintain it in place, just inhaling deeply as he could relish in the satisfaction of the mollifying substance. “No hurry then… such a pity… gals of your fineness furnished with beauty should have a bash at prepping her brains as well…” he taunted her, in absolute awareness of her reaction, as he could envision her furrowing brows and the indignation displayed upon her sculpted features.

“You seem fond of this… are you?” he held the cigarette for her to glance at, his hands perfectly moulding to the object as he drew it away of his lips, abandoning his sloped stance as he just treaded in her very direction, almost pounding with heavy notorious steps, as in recognition of his reckless behaviour – he wouldn’t mind if a professor showed up, as he had pretty much established pacts with plenty of them, since his beloved father’s post was at risk of being disposed with altercations of his. Roux chuckled to himself as the thought crossed his mind, but to his disbelief, no one actually showed up or even gawked through the corners – lucky bugger. “Eyes brimming with tears… that lost expression… those are pesky symptoms … and here’s the remedy” the French extended his hand with the cigarette, not before siding his head a little as he let the smoke out, away of her.

Flashes of nothing and everything plagued Roux’s thoughts, when the simplicity of her presented like a weakling, unable to control the effects of the first intake of nicotine rushing through her lungs, and probably decaying everything what was inside, in the most abrasive and ruthless way possible, tarnishing and tainting the pureness of her impeccable interior. An assumption or so, and he could actually determine it was the very first time she had done it – in spite of feigning the all cool and collected self, a notion probably induced by the coughs assault that lasted more than due. “Let’s say you must measure the exact dose for it to work …” he chuckled lightly, the dimpled expression figuring as defiant as the rest of his bearing, quite inclined into an absolutely heedless bloke. “We’re not racing… you don’t need to urge into it… you just let it slip through your throat by short bits…” the man tossed his head backwards, handling the cigarette that he finely extracted from her hand just to breathe in a demonstration. As said so, he let the smoke deepened into him, held it for a second or so, and then just let it out through his nostrils and the barely open gap of his mouth, feeling the hazing substance abandoning his body in the most mysterious, yet alluring manner.

“See? … c’est tres facile” staring directly into the icy blue ponds that crowned her features, in the merge of her blond locks, the bloke stood mesmerized for a minute or so, as if the overall of her beauty was capable of plunge him into rapture, in some sort of exquisite reverie. “Try closing your eyes… perceive each particle, each drowsy pang… taking you…” the French treaded a couple of steps closer, handing the instrument again to her, arching both brows with an inviting gesture. It was as if Roux was seducing the girl, luring her into it, so she could taste how tantalizing it could be, in her own accord. “Once you let it in… you wait for just a whit before letting it out…” he muttered, unconsciously reaching for her ears, with his lips standing at a scant distance of them, “When you master it… feels like breathing…” the subsiding material should work its magic on her, but just before notice, the bloke “And when you release it… all your worries disappear… it’s magic” a brief wink before a visible smirk spread all over his countenance, with a quite diverted mask of expression.

Roux wouldn’t display his sudden interest in the girl, just because being aware of it, would make her feel important, when she obviously wasn’t such. The rebellious man halted with her ears practically plastered to his plum lips, as he whispered, with his neck craned forward “… bask in it…” he licked his lips, not minding at turning around as he strolled past her, expecting her to sleuth him, wherever he was heading to. Roux had learnt to be cryptic enough to capture the innocents’ minds and bottle them up in accordance to his whims – he knew how to attain what he wished for, and how. The whole mysterious hints about him should suffice to ensnare her senses and to conduct her straight to him.

Perhaps the contrite expression upon her eyes, or the mesmerizing those blue ponds could seem something called his attention immediately. Roux let his lips pursed in a very conspicuous way, as to even cast a grin upon them. It was not usual for him to have someone rebuked his offering, such as the extension of his hand, attached to the cigarette. The bloke shrugged his shoulders before turning around, halting at his sudden attempt to escape her. Had she lured him back as he parted? Such an alluring taste this was, as tantalizing as the very nicotine in his lips, yet not as cancerous as it. “As you wish, mademoiselle…” his perfect French charm working its marvels on his innate accent, grasping the stick she was out jutting for him to grab it back and drawing the metal box out of his pockets to stuff it with it. “I’ve always admired a girl who’s capable of minding what she’s up to” he muttered, clearly in awe for her actions, quite enthralled by it. In matters of anticipation, he knew always what to expect of people, albeit this particular being seemed an exception to the rule.

Roux licked his lips as he chuckled lightly, focusing his fixating stare at her, just when she spoke of the hideous flavour it produced in contact with her mouth. Such fulgurating rows of white teeth to be tarnished with the poison of tobacco, he could never forgive himself if he did so. “It does… doesn’t it?” He downed his gaze to the metal box in his hand before inspecting it carefully, as to give it a cursory look before ditching it, tossing it off his grip as if rubbish. “And… whom am I to be thankful with for curing me of my addiction?” the man requested for a name, having unconsciously shortened the distance between them, as to be practically face to face before her. There should be an appellative behind that ravishing aspect, as to match it alike. Roux arched a brow before inclining his head just a little, in a quite intentionally pushing way, perhaps insisting on her revealing whatever name she had been blessed with.

Nevertheless, she didn’t utter her name, but minded a different subject instead – perhaps she never heard him. There surely were distinct paths to Rome, and so were varied methods to keep her distraught and having her thoughts off whatever gloom concept she was lingering at. “Have you ever ridden a two wheels vehicle?...” the idea beset him, the closeness to her almost like if he was whispering at her ear. The helmet he was carrying in his right pertained to a certain vehicle; a muggle one.

Inspecting for the truth in her features, Roux had nothing to decipher, as everything was plainly visible at sight from the prominent and delicate lines of her perfectly moulded face to the doe-eyed expression that eclipsed anyone he had ever darted his attention upon. “Seems unlikely, a fine girl like you would revel in such inanities as mounting a powerful vehicle like mine” the bloke’s brows arched in a seducing and inviting way, as to even convince the girl from leaving everything behind and just follow him into whatever hollow chasm he was ushering her into. The Slytherin advanced the small distance between them and grazed his lips merely against hers as he slipped to her ear, susurrating something at it, “… who knows… it could be better than you think…it could be” as teasing as he was, the fellow did nothing else but pounding past her, holding the helmet with his right as it swung back and fro with the movement.

This behaviour was something that came ever so often in him, although this practical methods served with plenty girls, he was not sure of their effects upon this specific gal. Roux kept a casual assiduous gait until he was halfway from the corridors end where the sunlit atmosphere seemed more welcoming with each stride. “This ain’t for the faint heartened” he turned around for a few seconds as he kept moving, winking at her quite playfully as he bit his lip in that manner some girls found irresistible. He then turned back again and carried on, letting his boots soles clicked against the cobbled stoned floor below, whilst he marched through the very exit into the brighter light of day. Roux was never the kind of bloke to be cooped up inside the castle walls, and he wouldn’t start it off thence either.

With a couple of minutes of striding, he finally went to the outtakes, wallowing on the air surrounding and imbedding him as filling his lungs with it as if his life depended on it. He halted a bit and then he began hoppling, with casual turns every now and then, just to figure out whether she was dogging him or not. Roux reached the motor vehicle which had been deliberately parked outside the castle with a concealing spell. He drew his wand out and with a quick jab the whole machine went visible again, materializing before him in its dark tones of colour. Roux leapt on it to mount it, grasping the handle first and passing his right leg first as he adjusted the helmet to his head, set to leave. If she wanted to accompany him, all she needed was to ask.