Nine in The Afternoon

Iva could almost feel the clock above her moving in the slow, rhythmic tempo it was forever trapped in. The slow ticking marked the seconds she had been waiting for Damian in the orange glow of dusk. Her breath curled around her in white wisps that slowly danced across her face. The Russian pulled her cloak close to her, the thick black material sheer in the dying rays of day.

She had been busy through Christmas- hadn't even bothered to contact Damian through the Kyrie Mishaps. The Slytherin wondered if he had expected anything from her.

A soft shudder overcame her body, shaking her core. Usually used to the cold, she found her temper growing as the temperature fell. Crossing her arms, Iva huffed around cloud of smoke. If the boy didn't show up soon...

He had lost it. The gift he had gotten Iva for Christmas was nowhere to be found.

More likely than not, it was somewhere in his trunk, but that was not precisely the most organized of spaces. It didn't help that Damian's entire life was stowed in said trunk (through aid of undetectable expansion charms, of course).

Now, he was late and empty-handed for his meeting with the girl.

Jogging most of the way, the boy finally made it to clock tower courtyard. Despite his annoyance, his lips curved into a small smile. She was beautiful, almost especially with that disgruntled pout she was wearing. Iva had never been a fan of waiting.

"Iva," Damian greeted, crossing over to where she stood. "Sorry I'm a bit late. You should have waited inside. It's cold out here."

At the muffled sounds of foot steps, Iva gazed down the way at her favorite person. She gave him a small smile despite her annoyance, her hunched shoulders relaxing.

"If I waited inside you would not be able to find me," she huffed another cloud, "I thought you had forgotten. Too busy messing with the potions."

Iva closed her eyes and leaned against the wall of the clock tower. The girl sighed and glanced up at the clock itself to check the time.

"Would to," Damian responded, tone a bit teasing, "I'd have just followed your scent. And I wouldn't have forgotten." Placing a hand against the wall beside her head, the boy leaned in and briefly kissed her lips, before pulling away again.

"I missed you," he said. "I don't like it when you're away. I don't get to see you as much."

Iva leaned away from his kiss, scrunching her lips together tightly. Despite the harsh, angry angles of her face, Iva's eyes were soft and forgiving.

"Oh, Demushka," she sighed, "You should have been there. My family... is entertaining," She ran a hand through her hair, her stiff aura loosening, "You spend all year in the school. It worries me,"

Damian gave a soft laugh at her refusal to let him kiss her. "Fine. Be mad," he said agreeably, then leaned forward to murmur teasingly in her ear. "Just remember this for the next time you keep me waiting.

"And make it easier for your father to murder me and hide the body?" Damian uttered dryly, raising a brow. "I think I'll pass, thanks." He caressed her cheek, leaning forward to place a quick kiss on the end of her nose.

"It's not so bad. I get to do more stuff staying here than I would elsewhere. I like it." He shrugged to show that it wouldn't matter even if he didn't like it. It wasn't as though he had anywhere else to stay, after all.

Iva fell into his touch, her eyes half lidded and observant of his every movement. She worked a aingle curl between her fingers slowly- pulling it straight and curling it slowly back up again with delicate fingers.

"Oh, Damian," she purred, stressing his name, "You know I love to keep you waiting. It builds up... anticipation,"

And, in the blink of an eye, Iva's flirtatious ways were gone as she collasped into the regular self. She returned the kiss on the nose,her mind deep in thought. "My Father doesn't want to kill you. It's more complicated than this. It, uh, is part of the family business. No business for you. Do not worry." She patted his cheek, savoring the warmth of skin on skin. "He will like you. You think like a Pureblood,"

"As long as I'm the only one you tease," Damian returned with a small smirk. "I'd be horribly jealous if I wasn't."

He raised a skeptic eyebrow. "If you say so," he said dubiously. "I'm still not sure I want to risk giving him the chance to like me. Some people will always look past how a person acts or thinks and still judge them on blood status alone. I love you, but I'm not convinced your father will ever see me as more than my parentage."

Said parentage clearly rankled the boy. Damian had proven himself equal to pureblooded schoolmates time and again, and still some had the gall to slander his blood purity. It was seldom the same people twice - Damian could be most convincing when he wanted to be - but still it gnawed at him, slowly fueling his deep-seeded need to prove himself superior to those who would dare think less of him.

Iva's tongue flicked out across her lips, warming them slowly. Her breath puffed slowly across her cheeks as she watched Damian with inquisitive eyes.

"You act like it is not a big deal that I am dating you," she sighed, "My family line is completely pure. Hell, there's a lot of brother sister marriages we don't discuss anymore."

A shiver overtook the Russian's body, as if it knew she was walking on thin ice. "Mudblood is simply a vocabulary word to us. You cannot expect Papa, or even me, to simply forget these things.

"Blood is blood, Damian. It's what makes us..us."

Damian heard her out in silence, the twitching of a muscle along his jaw the only initial sign of what was happening in his head.

"Say it again." His tone was light, inviting, the corners of his mouth tugging upward ever-so-slightly. His eyes, however, had gone so cold, the winter air was warm by comparison.

"Go on," he invited. And then he half-lunged at her, hands circling her upper arms in a hard grip as he pressed her into the cold stone wall behind her. Damian's expression had abruptly changed to match his gaze as he snarled in her face.

"Say it again! I dare you! You didn't have any trouble with it the first time," Damian growled. "In fact, why don't you just say it the way you mean it, this time? Why don't you just tell me how you're stooping so far beneath yourself to be with me."

Iva's head bounced against the brick, her soft curls caught against the stone. Her mouth was caught in a gasp as if her own ignorance surprised her. Her icy gaze reflected her boyfriend. Her assailant. A long breath ripped through the Russian's throat as her body continued it's daily function.

"Demushka," she whispered, her voice high and pleading. Iva remained still in his hands, the initial shock beginning to fade. His hands felt hot, bruising, like a brand. "Dame, I didn't... It is not like that,"

Tucking her head away from him, the Slytherin began to fidget and pull away, like a child. At this moment, Iva felt like her childhood self- frightened, weak, pitiful. She spoke again, voice higher than ever. "You are hurting me,"

For a moment, there was just the anger; irrational, offended, curling in his guts with all the other foul emotions not even he himself suspected that he harbored. There was a trace of hurt and betrayal present, too. How could she of all people think like that? He'd expected better - he deserved it!

Then, her words reached him and he was actually in the present again. Damian immediately released his hold on her, quicker than if he'd been burned. His gaze had changed from cold anger to something akin to horror mingled with self-loathing and disgust.

"I..." Damian found that a lump had formed in his throat which he seemed unable to swallow. He started to reach out a hesitant hand, to touch her face perhaps, but snatched it back even more quickly. He wouldn't touch her again - he couldn't risk...

"Tiya, I-" he rasped. "It... Мне так жаль."

Stepping back from her, gaze flitting about wildly, but not quite able to meet hers, Damian distanced himself. Then, he made his way towards the nearest entrance into the clock tower. He had... He had hurt her.

Spoiler:

There was a moment, staring into Damian's cold, dead eyes, that Iva was terrified of the boy she loved. So, she stood there, watching him, anticipating his next movement. After all that training, the boy could easily snap her wrists or do much, much worse.

As they broke apart, a soft gasp escaping her, the russian was surprised to find out she would have easily let him do anything to her. A moment fell between his words and her next movement, but she was soon moving after him. Cold trails of tears lined her cheeks, but she refused to acknowledge them.

"Damian," she mewled, approaching the boy from behind. She spoke to stop him, but wound a hand around him as well. Her face resting on his shoulder, a soft, desperate plea left her mouth. "Don't leave me."

Damian slowed to halt, swallowing as she pressed her face against his shoulder. At her words, he turned quickly, hands coming up to gently cup her face.

"I'm not leaving you," he said. "It's just - I... No one is allowed to hurt you. Not me, not anyone. Understand?" Tentatively, the boy wrapped his arms around her, resting his cheek atop her head.

"You know I'm sorry, right? Because I am. I just feel so angry all the time. Over - over stupid things, sometimes. I don't know what's wrong with me."

Iva pressed herself against him, her sobbing reduced to sniffles. She allowed him to caress her face for a moment, then pulled away to put her head back in its spot on his shoulder. In this embrace, she felt warm and welcome, more so than she had ever been at home.

"You are allowed to hurt me!" she whimpered, "If it keeps you here, I'll be okay with it!" She lifted her head, pulling away to watch his face. "I know you do not mean it. It'll be fine, I promise."

Damian's arms tightened gently around the girl. He thought he understood where her words were coming from, though he didn't agree that it was okay. Hurting her made him feel like a vile person.

"I won't hurt you again," Damian reiterated, "and I won't go anywhere. You're mine, and I'm yours. Nothing changes that. Not ever." He pressed his forehead against hers, meeting her gaze. The boy had no doubt that he loved the girl. She had won his heart and never let it go. That was why he was terrified to lose her; why he was so disgusted that he had done something that might even risk it.

"That's what Pieter said," Iva stared up at Dame, her hysterics all but forgotten. She grabbed his sleeve, tugging slightly. "That's what Pieter said." she repeated, "Pieter said he would not leave. And now he's gone,"

Iva nuzzled his cheek before stealing a quick kiss from the boy. She gave him one last gaze before pulling away, her fear and lonely clearly reflected in her eyes.

Damian looked at her intently as she pulled away. Reaching out a hand, he brushed the hair from her face. "I promise I will never leave you," he vowed. "You mean too much to me."

Grabbing her hand, he tugged her back to him. He ducked his head to press his lips to her, expressing his sentiment in a manner that words could not quite do justice. An arm wound behind her back, pulling her closer as he kissed her. He loved her, needed her, wanted her; then, always, forever.

With a tug, she was back in the warmth of his proximity. As Damian's lips met hers, Iva let out a tiny moan, his mere existence giving her chills. It was the way he leaned to meet her lips, the way his hand could encircle her entire wrist, or even the way his breath had the distinct scent that made the Russian feel so small, so weak, so powerful next to the hufflepuff.

In a moment, she was Papa. Dictating, strong, knowing with her actions. Her free had had snaked around her waist, pulling him even closer. Then, in the next moment, the slytherin was meek again. She managed to pull away and wipe the excess drool (Iva was never a clean kisser) from her face with shame.

"I..." she mumbled, before pausing and glaring down at her shoes. Feet, so small compared to his. She licked her lips, tasting him a last time, before continueing. "You have to know about my family,"

Damian watched her after she pulled away. It was clear that she didn't see herself the way that Damian saw her. There were just so many things that endeared her to the boy. To attempt to list them all would have proven futile.

"Your family?" he repeated, curiosity sparked. Iva seldom talked much about her family. Not in any true depth, in any case. The boy hadn't pressed, but that didn't mean he hadn't wondered. In fact, it had made him wonder all the more.

"What about your family?" Damian asked.

Iva rested her head on the boy's shoulder, a heavy sigh on her lips. she swayed back and forth, cherishing the moment between them. After this, everything could change. She could never go back to ignorance and happiness to murders, once the words crossed her lips.

"My family is full of monsters. Most mob families are." she intoned, running a hand through his hair. She avoided his gaze, shame overcoming her. She leaned closer to his ear, her tone intimate and almost loving. "I-I'm a monster.

"If you knew, what we've done- what I've done- you'd hate me," A soft giggle, induced by panic and pain of memory, rumbled in her throat before she switched to her native tongue. "We've killed so many, Damian. Robbed so many others."

Iva pulled away and took his face in her hands, serious. A smile cracked through, weary and senile. "And I don't plan to stop,"

Damian watched her calmly, letting her speak her piece without interruption. Then, his own hand lifted to stroke her cheek softly. "Why would you?" he asked, matter-of-fact, speaking in Russian as well. The language was far less eloquent on his tongue than it was on hers, but it was fluent nonetheless. Damian had worked hard to achieve that.

"People die, Tiya," Damian continued calmly. "Some deserve it. The strong survive; they always have. There's nothing wrong with being the one holding power.

"Besides," he paused to press a light kiss against her lips. "You're not a monster. You're perfect. That's why I love you."

Iva waited for a protest, for a sign of shock.Her blue eyes searched his face, her hand rested on his shoulder as she breathed a sigh of relief. Resting her head overtop her hand, Iva listened to the Russian: her favorite present. He had learned it for her, for little Inno, and... it made her glow with pride.

"I'm not perfect- you are," she replied, dotting a kiss on his neck, "I'm so glad to have you. I do not know what I would ave done if you didn't see things my way.

"If only Papa liked you more,"she mused, "I would not have to marry Tre anymore."

Damian wrapped his arms about her again, holding her close. "We are not so different. I would not be without you, either."

His hold tightened ever so slightly at the mention of Tre. The boy was not convinced he could win her father's approval, but he was sure he was at least equal to, if not far better than, the other boy. Damian didn't believe he'd ever get a fair chance to prove it, though, and it made him seethe. Iva was his. No one else could have her.

Ever.

"Elope with me," Damian proposed. The words were rash, hardly thought out, but the sentiment was certainly sincere; especially once he had the chance to think on it. "Marry me."

Iva blinked and tilted her head to look at the boy. An incrediously scoff escaped her chapped lips as she pulled partially out of his loving grasp. Her eyes were benign and apathetic as she clasped her hands on his upper biceps.

"Damian," she sighed, "I would love to marry you, it would be an honor, but you cannot rush into these things," The girl rolled her wrist in the air, trying to think, "We have never discussed where we would like, what we would do to pay bills," (Iva personally didn't worry about that) "What about children? Do you even want children? Would you be comfortable raising them in a Mob setting?"

Iva raised on to her tiptoes and placed a kiss on her boyfriend's cheek, forcing a placid smile. "I do love you, Demushka, I do. But, I cannot run off with you right now."