she steps out of the tardis and does a bit of a twirl, all black and purple lace with a wide brimmed, pointed hat cocked to the side half hiding her face. her grin is sinister – or it would be, if it wasn’t as goofy as it was.
Never has Harry looked so dangerously ready to accept a hedonistic offering. He hasn’t used his magic, save to demonstrate for children defensive spells better suited to Aurors, in months, and oh, the hunger for something more scintillating is fierce.
That, and the chance to duel with the man with whom he is shamelessly infatuated is almost erotic.
“When? Today? Oh, DO say you’ll do it today!”
He all but leaps into a chair, swiveling in dizzying circles, a pitiable echo of his charismatically evil past, always full of excess mental and physical energy as he paces the bars of his cage. A tiger crammed in a ferret’s enclosure.
“I am so very willing to show your mother-in-law more useful expenditures of her time, with your say-so; I’d give anything to have time together with the daughter I lost. They don’t let me see her, you know. Performed a partial Obliviate on my memory then moved her into ‘protective custody.’ All because of the Dark Mark on my arm that I never believed in to begin with.”
He scoffs.
“What’s more, nobody’s allowed to hurt you that profoundly, except me.”
Johnathan stared with a quirked brow at the man’s unpredictable response to his agreement. Chuckling quietly he shook his head, amusement gleaming in the dark brown of his eyes. Oh what have I just gotten myself into?… He thought wryly.
“Yes. Really.”
The swiveling chair nearly brought more genuine laughter to his lips but he pushed it down in favor of waving over a tray with tea and biscuits. A wordless spell he had mastered long ago.
“Yes, yes, all-right. Today. Have some tea why don’t you.”
Making up his own cup of tea in one of the silver cups available he pull it close to have it at hand. An expression of darker humor manipulated his features at Harry’s willingness to have a go at his former mother-in-law. Humming thoughtfully he put the tea cup to his lips to take a slow sip from it.
“That’d be something I’d pay to see. Give the old crone a lashing from me, verbal or otherwise I wouldn’t care.”
Scowling deeply into his tea cup he chose not to remark on the final comment from the man. However the glint of near approval in his eyes was a silent give away. The eyes told everything, at least it was that way when it came to Johnathan.
“SPLENDID!”
Harold leans forward and smacks his palms against Johnathan’s cheeks, framing his lips for a big loud kiss. That kiss is utterly shameless, even though his heart secretly thunders.
He pulls back, and pinches his cheeks.
“I’ll drink your damned tea for that prize.”
Back to the chair he goes, the scars of his redacted Dark Mark stinging in warning. Per usual, he doesn’t heed them. He collects his teacup and sips. He even has the audacity to stick up his pinky.
This lasts the short side of 30 seconds before he slams the bone china cup down.
“BOTHER. You’re rubbish at this. I could give you at least five other brews for the stimulation of the senses. Or the calming. Come on, find us a dueling spot. The more public the better.”
Credit to @jodiesource on Twitter for capping these screen shots.
//Honestly I’m just so happy that John Simm is considered a British sex symbol with that round little boy face of his because I too have an upturned nose and fat cheeks and dark brown eyes so there is hope.
FIXED! He did it! He bluffed having ANY sort of medical expertise, and he fixed his stepchild’s shoulder! Why, this is the most glorious day in the Master’s life! He could become a bloodyparamedic! He could do ANYTHING he set his mind to!
He–!
Oh.
“Oh, golly. Yeah, sorry about that. Anesthesia, right.”
He scurries to draw a syringe full of aspirin-free painkiller, which he injects into Ophelia’s vein.
“Er, that’ll take the edge off.”
Ophelia watched his expression change and couldn’t help but smirk through the pain. “Now you’ve realized it. Bit too late. That’s suppose to go before you do the painful bit.”
The girl winced as the needle was put in her vein, glancing away until it was gone.
“You know… we don’t have to tell Dad about this. We can just say I just walked into a door or something. I don’t want you getting in trouble because I’m not coordinated.”
“Oh, right, SURE, brilliant scheme, and then later he’ll find out because on a good day he’s cleverer than either of us, and then it’ll compound his grouchiness tenfold that we kept a secret!”
Though the Master is indubitably terrifying, but right now he comes across as a fussy fishmonger’s wife. He pushes gently on Ophelia’s chest.
Icarus 