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Tend to the Poet	By : marianaruiz Category: HP Canon Characters paired with Original Characters > Het - Male/Female Views: 1407 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own anything in the Harry Potter fandom nor do I make any money from it. Any own characters are a work of fiction and do not resemble any living/dead persons, any resemblance is purely coincidental.

Chapter List
- 1-UN
- 2-Update!
- 3-DEUX
- 2
- 3
Clarissa took a tentative step into an unfamiliar ballroom, and immediately stopped dead in her tracks. From face to face, she sought solace, but found nothing. The elegant green dress threatened to squeeze her dry. The adorned diamonds began to creep up, winding their way around her lily-white neck and choking Clarissa. She could not scream, she could only whisper her cries for help. The room swelled, she stepped back uneasily. All eyes took an age to leave her face as Draco hurried over and placed a hand on her lower back.
“Confidence, Clarissa. It is no good to anyone for you to appear weak.” Draco hissed in her ear, forcing a charmless smile to the masses of bodies surrounding them.
“Draco, I - I can’t -” Clarissa looked helplessly up at him, sinking into her melancholia.
He stopped, and turned to look at her. The hordes disappeared. Their eyes met, without fire, without familiarity, and instead with a safe security Clarissa had not felt since Jean-Baptiste.
He raised an eyebrow and curled his lip.
“Do you think your mother knew of the word can’t?”
Oddly, Clarissa gleaned comfort from Draco’s scorn. She was a Black woman, after all. The last Black woman. She raised herself fully, but not without uncertainty, smoothing her dress and fluffing her thick, curly hair. She looked the strangers in the eye, fleetingly, but in the eye nonetheless. She steadied her breathing, the diamonds on her neck loosened, her dress hung invitingly once more.
“Now, time for introductions.” Draco whispered, and guided her towards the throng.
“Ah, my darling niece, we thought you’d never make it! Oh, women and their dressing - it is like waiting for Merlin to arise!” A bubble of laughter arose from their guests, and Lucius placed a hand on Clarissa’s trembling shoulder, almost knocking her weakened self to the immaculately polished marble.
“Oh, and please let me introduce my son, Draco. He has an announcement to make!” Narcissa disregarded Clarissa altogether, and pushed Draco gracelessly to the front of the expectant crowd. His hand took Clarissa’s, and pulled her in with him, much to her chagrin. Clinks of glasses and cheers followed, and Draco raised a polite hand in acknowledgement. Clarissa just made herself small behind him, intently studying the string band who were paused, just as anticipatory as the crowd.
He cleared his throat. “Hello, all. I expect you know who I am - ” He paused for the ripple of polite laughter. “ - but I do not expect any except the oldest of you to remember my companion. May I introduce my very alluring, ever-effervescent new fiancee, (gasps swept the crowd) Clarissa Rosella Black!”
The silence expanded, engulfing Clarissa inside of it. A second later, it was gone - replaced by enthusiastic cheers and some whispered mutterings behind silk-gloved hands.
“Speech, Clarissa!” cries rang out from around the ballroom. Clarissa looked alarmingly at Draco, who squeezed her hand in reassurance.
‘Aren’t I a Black?’ She thought, and stepped forward assuringly.
“Good evening, esteemed guests, and welcome to the Malfoy Manor.” She could feel Narcissa bristle from across the room. She expected Lucius would have glared were he sober enough.
“I am the aforementioned Clarissa Black, and I would like to personally thank you all for your warm words of congratulations, and indeed your well-wishes.” She glanced at Draco, who looked unimpressed, and beckoned her to continue.
She smirked. If they wanted entertainment, they could have it. “I expect you are all wondering the same thing. Yes, I am betrothed to my cousin. Yes, I love him. (Draco threw her a thunderous glance) Yes, I hope as much as you all that our children do not come out looking like house-elves or acting like my mother dearest-”
Draco baulked as Narcissa hurriedly shooed her away from the astonished crowd.
“Please, excuse my niece. Too much Butterbeer! Do enjoy the selection of nibbles on offer, and allow our house-elves to wait on you hand and foot…” She trailed off, looking horrified, and poured herself a strong measure of Firewhisky.
The music and chatter resumed, if somewhat uncertainly, and Draco quickly dragged Clarissa away to an unassuming corner of the entrance hall before Narcissa could Avada her future daughter-in-law.
“What the FUCK was that Clarissa?” Draco exploded.
“What?” She smirked, batting her eyelashes. “You wanted Black arrogance, you got it! I do not see your issue, mon cherie.”
“My issue?!” He fumed incredulously, pushing her further into the corner and towering over her.
Clarissa grasped the lapels of his suit and pressed herself against him, her lips against his, one leg wrapped around him.
“Oh, Draco, you know I love it when you talk dirty.” She said sultrily, determined to tease him.
He grabbed her neck and pushed her up against the cool wall, her legs dangling. She froze, too terrified to breathe, her hands scrabbling at her neck.
“My fucking issue is you making a scene in front of all of my family and friends. I will not have Black family scum like you besmirch my name. Do anything like that again and you’ll be joining your fucking mother.” He threw her to the ground, eyes full of disdain. Her jewellery scattered across the marble floor and she quickly got up to chase it, pride dented and wide eyes full of tears. She bolted back towards the ballroom, choking back a sob.
“Clarissa, wait, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it!”
She turned back, eyes blazing, hair bedraggled.
“You fucking meant every word, you chancing Death Eater vermin.” And with that, Clarissa turned on her heel and made back to the ballroom, the only thought running through her mind was the challenge of how much exactly one person could besmirch a family name.

*

Knocking back another Firewhisky, the now-unkempt Clarissa threw herself around the nearest younger male that was still left in the emptying ballroom, and started dancing energetically. He steadied her with a firm, warm hand and a sharp laugh. Draco was nowhere to be seen.
“Well, it’s nice to meet you too, my dear! I’m Theo, one of Draco’s classmates.” He held out a polite hand, and Clarissa shoved it away, instead wrapping herself around his torso.
“Cassie!” She shouted charmlessly, over what seemed to her to be ever-increasing din.
“Oh, I know who you are.” He eyed her hungrily, and held out an expectant hand.
“Care to join me for a walk around the gardens, my dear?” His eyes twinkled, and Clarissa’s seemed to begin to unfocus.
She mumbled noncommittally, and felt herself being guided towards darkness. He felt cold, but strong, and Clarissa tried to pull away - to no avail. The last of the summer night air was cool and heady, and served to sober Clarissa up slightly.
“Where are we going?” She tried to clear her throat fearsomely, but faltered.
“You’ll see my dear. Now, silence, and enjoy the stars.”
Clarissa’s eyes widened as she realised where she was being bustled towards. She tried to ignore the stares and jeers of drunken party goers as she was marched impolitely towards the manor’s maze.
“Theo, please. Take your hands off me, you’re hurting me!”
His thick hand remained gripped around Clarisssa’s slim bicep, and he remained silent and stoic, continually marching her towards a dark, secluded corner. Clarissa began to panic, her eyes darted from one area of the gardens to the other. Was it only last week she swam and laughed and drank with her cousin? She couldn’t bear to think of what Theo was planning, but her mind raced nonetheless.
Melancholia began to grip her again, and she lost herself in her memories.
She felt herself vaguely being placed down onto a patch of damp grass, and a heavy figure loomed over her. Was she in the Malfoy Manor, or was she back in that dreaded room at the Lestrange residence? Who was the man on top of her - was it Him?
“No... I don’t want to. Get off me! Mother, no, stop him!” Her arms struggled to push off the bulky figure that was neither man nor myth.
“What are you on about you silly bitch?”
Her memories began to coalesce, and another familiar voice swam around her mind.
“Properbred women do not quarrel, they quieten, and allow themselves to be taken. Now lie back and think of the good we’ll do for Him.”
“Fuck sake. Stop fucking fighting, just lie still you slut.” The hulking darkness on top of her began to fumble with her dress, with her curves, in the most lurid and hideous way.
“No, please, I don’t want to. I’m a -”
The behemoth let out a barking laugh. “Don’t lie to me you whore, there’s no way you’re a virgin.”
Clarissa’s memories gripped her, she couldn’t fight any longer. She just lay back and began to cry.
“Good girl. Your mother will be so proud.”
Suddenly, her eyes were affronted with a stream of light, and she could breathe again. Clarissa’s arm lost its heavy grip and instinctively went to her eyes, in an attempt to protect them.
A low voice let out a warning and the brute disappeared, and the air around Clarissa felt light once more. A hand reached out to her, and pulled her up, gently, and into a tight, one-armed hug.
“Are you okay?” A small, caring voice whispered in her ear, eyes and wand not leaving the ogre beside her.
Theo went to move. The man dropped Clarissa from his arms and connected his fist into the brute’s face. He dropped, unconscious, like a fat sack of galleons.
The man’s hand led Clarissa away, stumbling like a newborn deer, and into illumination. Her breath left her as she realised who her saviour was.
“Draco!” She sighed, slightly embarrassed, unable to meet his piercing gaze.
“Tis I.” Was it Clarissa’s disorientation or was Draco as bashful as she?
“You saved me.” She blinked, lips parted.
“Perhaps. That piece of shit has a reputation at school for unwanted attention. You really shouldn’t have gone off with him.”
Clarissa dropped his hand and stopped dead in her tracks. Her hair billowed around her and eyes blazed, and the stars seemed to swirl in the sky, joining in her fury.
“I didn’t ‘go off’ with him at all! Le raclure! He led me when I was ivre - drunk, putain de merde!”
Draco stepped back, threatened.
“May I remind you cur that I only went to get drunk because of the degoutant way you spoke to me! Tu espece de merde! I cannot believe this treatment - il est meprisable! I have been here for a week!” She paced around the gardens, her anger refusing to be contained, her indignation insurmountable.
“Clarissa, stop, for Merlin’s sake! Look, let’s go back inside and have a bottle of wine. You’re acting crazy.” Draco pleaded, exasperated, his demeanour unravelling. His hair lay strewn across his eyes and sweat beaded on his forehead.
Draco’s words only served to heighten Clarissa’s anger. If she had her wand on her, she was sure she would have cast any number of curses straight at Draco’s waiting eyes. It all proved too much for her, and she began to run further into the maze at surprising speed.
“Clarissa, where are you going?” Draco shouted at her retreating figure, and began to take after her.
She couldn’t answer because she didn’t know, she just wanted to run away from everything. Tears danced around her features, chilling her face in the cool night air. She ran so far, and so fast into the tall green hedges she felt she could almost fly. Oh, how she missed flying so. Clarissa’s memories began to grip her again, albeit her happier memories with Jean-Baptiste, and she slid further down the hedge until she huddled into a ball.

“May I show you something, mon cherie?” Clarissa looked hopefully into the eyes of her Muggle lover.
“Of course, mon petit chou. But I am confused, what is it you would like to show me?”
Jean Baptiste stood tall, strong, with a sharp jawline and a soft smile that always reached his eyes. Clarissa felt she could get lost in those hazel eyes, speckled green by the light of the midsummer sun.
“You have to promise me you will not tell a soul, Jean. I could get into so much trouble for this.”
His strong hands took Clarissa’s soft face into them. He placed pecks down her nose, culminating in a slow, passionate, longing kiss.

Draco’s cold, unyielding hands yanked her from her peace.
“Clarissa, why are you crying?” He was softer now, and held her gently. Clarissa felt confused - Draco was hard, Jean was light. Could it be…?
Clarissa wasted no more moments. She placed her lips on her lover’s, and pressed herself onto him, until they fell together, further into the hedge. Her hands caressed his torso, making their way downwards. His chiselled body pressed into hers, and his lips grazed her neck, eliciting a sigh of ecstasy from her. Her fingers brushed past his briefs, and gripped the long hardness between his legs, working it expertly. His fingers slipped into her, slick and wet, her moans cascading around the maze. It was a wonder they weren’t discovered. He grunted as she climbed on top of his lap. He slid in with little effort, and her sighs pierced the night sky.
“Clarissa, fuck… you’re so tight”
“Oh Jean, ah mon dieu!”
He froze. Clarissa reluctantly opened her eyes.
“Who the fuck is Jean?” She faced Draco, her almost-lover, as thoughts of her past lover begrudgingly slipped from her mind.
She opened her mouth to speak, but couldn’t summon the words. Draco pushed her off of him disdainfully.
“I thought so.” He sneered, all trace of gentleness gone. “That fucking Muggle scum. And he’s French. You disgust me.”
Clarissa placed her sore head in her hands and groaned.
‘Vous etes une vache stupide, Cassie.’
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Tend to the Poet