She's the worst thing I've been addicted to.

James Patrick Lynch III was a man of little patience. So the fact his date had taken nearly three hours to get ready tonight had meant he had already smoked four cigars and downed about a half bottle of scotch. He had a strong tolerance for alcohol, but it still may have been a little bit excessive. The deep cobalt blue jacket he had opted for tonight hung neglected over his chair while he focused on not creasing his white shirt. As untraditional as his outfit was for a magical party, his generation was far less inclined to wear dress robes than past men had been. A sigh escaped his lips and his fingers reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose. James was already regretting agreeing to escort the young woman to this event. He reached towards the scotch bottle again just as he heard a sign song voice.

“How do I look?”

“Like you have wasted three hours of my time. Now we are going to be late.” He retorted without looking at her. Shifting his body to her direction, he raised a brow. “But I guess it was worth it.” The pout lifted from her pretty, little lips and she giggled. She had curled her blonde hair and braided half of it up. Her skimpy white dress left little to the imagination, though James wasn’t about to complain. He’d never really been into blondes, but a pretty girl on his arm was a necessity. It also pleased his parents when he spent more than one night with a woman though he doubted he could stand much more of her. She hadn’t let him do anything further than kiss her, despite the fact it had been two weeks. Prudes were the worst. On top of that, he couldn’t even recall her name half the time. This was another one of those occasions. The liquor might not have helped. Blondie had always worked instead.

He gave her an approving nod while Blondie gushed about what an attractive couple they made and that she couldn’t wait to introduce her to his friends. She held out his blazer and helped him into it, smoothing out the shoulders quickly. One final nip of his scotch and he was ready to go. She slid one arm seductively through his and they apparated with a crack.

The party was much like any other mixer he had been too. Men and woman both dressed their finest and prowled around for a potential match. With the Ministry’s latest marriage decree, women were more rushed to find a mate then ever. The affair was held outside tonight. The warm June air was still and fresh. There was not a cloud to be seen Long banquet tables had been set up on one side of the area, lavishly decorated. Polished wooden flooring had been laid out as not to ruin the ladies expensive shoes. Fairy lights hung suspended in the air while trays of champagne floated around and offered themselves to guests. Canapés made an occasional appearance until the feast, which was due to start in less than an hour.

Blondie took two champagne glasses and handed one to James while she chatted in his ear. He sighed and downed the glass in one. This was all terribly mediocre. He missed the parties his family threw. Now they were truly glamorous. Only those of the finest breeding were given an invite. Not like these things. It didn’t matter if you were a fifth generation pure blood or a muggle born, any one could organise and attend. The planning would last for months and the events were legendary among the wizarding world. At least, the ones who were lucky enough to make the guest list.

Blondie quickly found her friends and while they gasbagged, James searched for an escape. Or at least a drink stronger than champagne. The weather was almost too warm for his outfit. He slipped the jacket off and slung it casually over his left shoulder after rolling his crisp sleeves up to his elbows. He excused himself with the excuse of finding somewhere to sit and disappeared into the crowd.

His dark gaze floated down other women alluringly when they caught his eye. There were plenty of beautiful flowers here tonight. He could certainly take his pick of them and ditch the blonde. However, the risk of mingling with a female with tainted blood was high. The mere thought of it made his lip curl into a sneer. Instead, he bee-lined for the bar and brought a cigar to his lips. How he craved the attention of a more engaging, pure bred woman.

Skimpy clothing had become fashionable ever since Elsie had returned to town. All of the pureblood women, so used to covering their skin from chin to ankle, had felt threatened when the young, unmarried woman returned onto the scene. Elsie was at the age where she should have been married off by now, or become a more permanent mistress to some pureblood man, but she still arrived to every function, noticable lacking the accessory of a handome, pureblood man. And yet, though she was beginning to enter that danger zone of being noticably older than most women settled down, she was still young enough to bring the eyes of men and women alike onto her.

So when she had first re-entered the pureblood scene, scantily clad, unwed, and still appealing... Naturally, the tastes of everyone woman had quickly changed so that they could keep up with her. It was slow, but they adopted her style. Short dresses, lack of sleeves, low cut, less accesorries to keep the attention on curves and skin. Elsie was flattered, but she absolutely despised having a style that could be lost in a crowd.

So when she came from the V.I.P. entrance, name checked off a list, eyes widened as they found her face did not quite match her clothes. A long, blue dress, tasteful cutouts on her  hip. It reached to her wrists and her toes, where her simple black heels gently lifted her already tall, slim frame. Diamonds glinted on her ears, her makeup tasteful, her hair standing out from all the updo-s and twists as it fell down her back.

Soon, the eyes in the room travelled down to the necklace around her neck. Every woman of taste in the room recognized the Chattel silver necklace interlaid with diamonds that rested upon her chest. It had recently been up for auction, before being suddenly pulled off the market, leaving a wake of disappointed wives and mistresses. Word had it that the seller had found the very sort of woman he thought best complimented the piece, giving it to her after a few days of knowing her.

And here it was. On the bosom of Elsie Norton.

She turned a deep eye across the party, feeling the murmers and showing no sign that she noticed nor cared for them. If she did notice, she almost seemed to draw her strength from the recognition. She raised her chin and gently moved, the dress rippling gently as she moved. She paused at a table where some champagne was floating by, always a good place to start, and hooked up a champagne flute, making half the glass disappear with a quirk of her lips. Her eyes were drawn to a blue jacket nearby, and she lifted her gaze to the man who filled it. Their eyes met for a moment. "We almost match," she said. A lip twitched and her eyes gave him another once over, before she finished off the entire glass. She set it down and continued across the party, not even trying to swing her hips.

She didn't have to.

James mulled over his next drink, plotting on how to avoid his date for the evening. He knew he would be expected to be polite and friendly. There was little else worse in the world. Frowning, he peered into the amber liquid. Why he wasted his time attending was beyond him. The pretty faces were making it so much better, but he was slowly growing weary of the skimpy fashion that the women insisted on wearing. Especially when women ten years past their prime still opted for them. Where was the class? Wizards were a noble society. They did not need to sink to such lows. They already were the elite of humanity.

“We almost match.”

As if his thoughts had willed it, a soft purr came from beside him. When he cast his glance at her it was not at all what he expected.

She was tall, almost statuesque. The material of her dress flowed down her figure, much like her dark hair cascading down her back. Her makeup was fairly simple compared to the charcoal the other girls had rubbed their eyes in. An ostentatious diamond necklace complemented her décolletage but took away from nothing. He recognized the piece instantly and a smirk rose to his lips. The rumours were widespread. If this was the woman who had snatched up such a treasure, he couldn’t only imagine what she was capable of. The bare skin over her hips was tasteful and his fingers itched to reach out to her smooth skin. She was exactly what the doctor ordered. His current arm piece looked like yesterdays leftovers in comparison. The way she downed her glass was impressive.

James decided then and there she was his conquest for the evening. If by chance she was not well-bred then he would tell everybody that she begged for his company and he pitied her. Out of character perhaps, but anybody who may have seen her would not ask questions.

She sauntered away before he had the chance to respond.

Reaching over the bar, he snatched up a bottle of firewhiskey and claimed two crystal tumblers. He wasn’t about to let that happen.
“Pardon me. But I think you left something behind.” His free hand snaked to the small of her back and he whispered into her ear. “A drink or five?” Presenting her with an empty glass, his dark eyes glinted mischievously.

"James Patrick Lynch III. It's a pleasure to meet you." His hand travelled to her elbow and down to her dainty wrist as he lifted her hand to his mouth. James held eye contact as he brushed his lips across it.

Elsie had become the entertainment of a pureblood soiree one too many times to not notice that flicker of interest in a man's eyes when it came. So she walked away with the certainty that she would be seeing the man soon, and probably for the rest of the night, and more than possibly in the morning as well. Her body moved with the certainty and the danger of an Amy Winehouse song; her eyes flickered with the confidence and mystery of Cleopatra; her head held high like a Queen who had abandoned of her throne, still regal but not uninhibited, free to do as she pleased.

A month ago, her pleasure would not have been found in flinging herself once again into the position of the abandoned mistress. She had played the role so many times, typecast because of her beauty and her social standing. The higher pureblood women were promised and expected, if anything, to honor their husband or husband in wait. The unmarried were either too young or too vapid to be any pleasure at all.

And then there was Elsie, pretty much born to play the supporting role of one night stand. She had all of the money to be acceptable company, but none of the blood to stay permanent. She was rebellious enough to cause the intrigue and the escape the confined men needed, but she was too much of a wildcard to ever be taken as anything more than an occassional mistake. And she was undeniably beautiful, so she would always be considered.

Of course, no little girl chose the life Elsie was leading. In America, she had settled into the rhythm because it was the closest thing to power. And then, she had suffered a great fall. With Nash's betrayal, and a bounty on her head, the reality check she had been given was cashed in for a plane ride to England and an agenda to lay low. She had sworn off her usual habits - rich, pureblooded hotties who turned out to be Death Eaters. It seemed she had a type, and her type was a form of attempted suicide.

And then she had fallen in with Augustus Rookwood. It had been a stupid risk, but she had made it, and she had betrayed something inside of the poor man. It had been a tad unsettling for her to harm someone who had seemed so well intentioned, so she tried to remove herself from the equation, looking at it as though there had been no fault. She realized there had been some power in her hands that next morning... And that was when she had decided it was back to get in the came of collecting arm candy.

She had a plan. She just wasn't completely sure what it was yet.

She had reached the edge of the dance floor and she waited there, eyes sliding over the couples. Men glanced her way to gague how much of an opportunity they might have to snag her for a dance, and women shot her competitive looks or looks of admiration from the friendlier of the sex. She knew, however, that she was about to be stolen away from them all. A warmth reached her and breath brushed over her ear and she allowed her lips to lift into a smile. She turned - target acquired, and it was a direct hit.

"I've already had a drink," she said coolly, turning to him, before her expression flickered into one of warmth. "So four more would do just nicely." That American accent of hers also set her apart, and she revelled in it as she spoke.

He introduced herself as her smile widened. She knew the name, of course. The pureblood society was not a large one, and she had been paraded through it for her entire life. And any name she had not known a month ago was now familiar to her. She was a thorough woman. "The third?" she repeated. "Startling lack of creativity, don't you think, to recycle a name." The tease was evident and harmless, and she allowed him her hand easily. "Elsie Norton." Why would she ever introduce herself as Elizabeth Lucille, when there were plenty of Elizabeths, and Lucilles, and Amelias, and Christines, but there was only one Elsie.

Elsie Norton. While it wasn’t pretentious, it did have a nice ring to it. The surname wasn’t hugely familiar but that could very well have been due to her heritage. There was no attempt to mask her American accent. James found most Americans to be too obnoxious for him but she was different. He may have been biased simply by how attractive she was. He already appreciated the fiery response she gave him.

She seemed pleased by his appearance, although that was no surprise.  The smile that lit up her face hinted at mischief but mostly revealed at seduction. His hand lingered on Elsie’s before he reached to tuck her hair behind her ear.

“Who needs originality with blood this pure?” His fingertips trailed down her jaw. A crooked smile tugged at his lips and he gave her a sly wink. “A decadent piece such as you should not be alone in a place like this. Who knows who might try to whisk you away? There are a lot of dangerous men in the world.”

Leaving his words hanging, he poured the golden liquid into each glass and presented them to her.

“Shall we?”

The moment of attention he had stolen from her had already proved what a fantastic creature she may be. James was already feeling a sense of possessiveness over her. As far as he was concerned, if she did not accompany him tonight, she would be going home alone.  This girl held herself with an air of royalty. Proud, poised, refined and sexual. She knew the affect she had on men and loved it just as much as they did. James revelled in doing the same to the opposite sex.

He waited until she had taken her glass before savouring a sip from his own and broke eye contact for a moment to glance over his shoulder. While he had slipped away somewhat unnoticed, James was easy to spot in a crowd.  The dim light created shadows under his cheekbones and in the scars that marred the skin. He’d also opted for a blue suit tonight compared to the black most other men had donned.

Shrugging his jacket off, he hung it over a nearby chair. He readjusted his rolled sleeves, hinting at the muscular physique under his clothes.  His gaze flicked back to Elsie and the crooked smile return.

“You’re obviously not from around here. I do hope your stay in London is permanent. You are a breath of fresh air in comparison to this drivel.”

He planned on taking her home that night. She could feel it in his gentle, traveling touches, could see it in his gaze. He was not a man to hide what he felt or what he planned. While Elsie was being equally as honest in her intentions to go where he asked, she was very much like an iceberg in that she was only giving him ten percent of her entirety. It was not a lie, per se, unless one counted lies of omission. Her intended actions were on the table. It was all of the motivations that lay in wait.

It was a question few men ever cared to ask. It was obvious why they wanted to take her home. She was a prize, certainly. A conquest that could be enjoyed for the act as well as the company – it was a rarity in upper society. But why would a prize let herself be so readily available, so easily achieved, passed between the men as though competitive business had been forgotten in the spirit of sharing the wealth? Few cared to ask the question as long as they found her tangled in their expensive sheets the next morning.

All the better for her.

His comment on blood purity caused a genuine smile on her face, flirty still, but definitely pleased. Oh, a pureblood so proud of the fact. It was exactly what the doctor had ordered. “You’re right. Tradition is definitely worth more.” Such as the tradition of taking mistresses to avoid the responsibilities that came with marriage and family. Elsie Norton was fully aware of the traditions of the pureblood men. She was here to… enjoy them.

“I guess, all a girl can hope for is that she is in the right hands,” she said, tilting her head to one side, her hair draping over her shoulder. “Hands that know how to handle her just right.”

Her mother would have been so ashamed.

He presented her a glass and she smiled, raising it ever so slightly. She tipped it into her mouth and took another handsome swallow, before lowering it. She rolled her lips to get every taste of the liquid off of them. She watched him carefully, her eyes sharpening as he turned away. For a girl who had gotten constant notes at Durmstrang that her focus had never been on point, seeming to have the world’s smallest attention span when it came to goblin wars and wolfsbane, she sure was focused now.

He shrugged off his jacket and she tilted her head again, smiling as she looked at him. She took another drink and set the glass down, reaching forward to tug him away from the table and into the open area where couples moved and swayed with the music. She took her place, a hand resting upon his shoulder as her other hand held his, waiting for him to lead – for tradition dictated the man always led, yes?

“I’m from everywhere, you might say,” she said. “Until recently, I was enjoying the society of the upper east side of New York. I came to help a friend of mine settle here. But don't worry. London can consider me a small monument for awhile.” She smiled. “And you? I know the name, of course. What does the third James Lynch do to keep himself out of trouble?”

“Hands that know how to handle her just right.”

Her forwardness delighted him. James hadn’t had this much fun in months. She licked her lips as if she was savouring the taste of her drink.  The longer he stood in her company, the more familiar she seemed. That smile and the dark, seductive eyes. A memory tugged at him but he couldn’t quite pull it to the surface. It was a party of some sort. Perhaps a mixer just like this. Most girls around her age were already promised to someone. She may very well be however, and simply looking for a good time.

The latter was made evident when she ditched her drink and pulled him towards the centre of the dance floor. Elsie positioned herself delicately in front of him, one hand on his shoulder whilst the other was snug within his grasp. James reached an arm around her small waist and scooped her secure to his frame. He liked that she was tall. In heels she did not stand much shorter than he was. Effortlessly, he led her around the space. The other couples stared in both envy and wonder, quickly making way for the pair.

The question made him chuckling. “Darling, I’m a lawyer. I’m always in trouble. I merely know how to talk my way out of it.” James twirled her away and then pulled her back to him, closer than before. Their noses were nearly touching.
“Stay and I’ll show you just how interesting London can be. I can already tell you are a woman who craves thrills and the finer things in life. ” Despite how much he wanted to lean forward, he whisked the stunning young woman into another spin and continued with their waltz.

“James?!”

The high pitched screech made him wince. He looked over Elsie’s shoulder to find his date. She didn’t seem to know whether to yell or cry. Ugh, she was such a bother. Sighing heavily, he released his dance partners hand but kept her pressed against his side.
“What?” He asked sharply.
“What in Merlin’s beard do you think you are doing?” She demanded.
“Enjoying the finest fruits tonight has on offer.” His hand stroked Elsie’s waist and he smirked. Blondie’s face contorted in betrayal as she spluttered vulgarities.
“Did you honestly think I had feelings for you?” A cruel laugh slipped from his lips. “I don’t even remember your name. Do everybody a favour and stop throwing a tantrum. You’re 25 years old. Nobody likes an overgrown child. Now, excuse me while I entertain this magical creature.” James’ tone turned to a purr as he referred to his new plaything.

Without skipping a beat, they returned to their rhythm whilst the rest of the guests stared.

“I do apologise for that. Some women just have no pride. I’d almost pity them if it wasn’t so shameful.” The resentment in his voice was clear. How he always managed to find the crazies was beyond him. Then again, he was so superficial that it was to be expected. “I don’t even like blondes.” He noted with a chuckle.

“It appears dinner will be ready shortly. Shall we find a seat? Alternatively, I’m sure my own house elves can whip up something slightly more spectacular. And I can guarantee the booze will be far more to your tastes.”

He took to dancing easily. Obviously, he was no stranger to these soirees, and she was more and more proud of her ability to pick a man from the crowd. It’s funny how her bad taste in men was actually impeccable – she picked the men that were charming, handsome, clever, but ultimately tossed away each and every plaything they go their hands on, herself included. She found it funny that after she had been abandoned by Nash, the man who had gone against her usual taste (poor, down to earth, relatively shy), it seemed that her usual type no longer tired of her. And it was this that she used to her advantage.

She was finally irresistible. And she could not wait to break hearts as her own had been broken.

He pulled her closer and she could smell his cologne – expensive cologne, at that. They moved well together. As goofy and clumsy as she often was, she had been dancing for years. And she was known to entertain herself at bars with her dancing, though that was far less ‘tasteful’ dancing than she had been trained to do, though it was certainly her favorite sort. The key to real dancing was in the interest of the partner, and she definitely was interested in James.

“A lawyer,” Elsie echoed. “Hmm, my taste seems to be slipping.” The corner of her mouth curled into a smile. He continued to speak and she felt more and more vindicated in her choice and in her motivations. He was the sort to think himself a smooth talker, one who took it upon himself to show her the city so she might feel indebted to him, one who would tell her what sort of woman she was. He was everything she could not stand in a pureblood because it was the personality that spurned and destroyed without thoughts beyond the pleasure given to himself. Before the turn in her personality, she would have been under his spell already. But Elsie Norton had learned.

They were interrupted by a woman who was older than her only in age. Her ideals were still young, her expectations juvenile, her actions immature. Elsie had been called immature her entire life and yet here she was, the superior of two potential mistresses. She had been in the blonde’s position before, but she had never been so silly as to make herself into the fool. She might have done the same if she had not learned so early that she was never meant to be the key woman, but always on the side.

Elsie’s expression betrayed no sympathy for the woman who would surely slander her later, rip her reputation to shreds with her equally vapid friends. Elsie had done the woman the favor. If James truly thought her superior and still regarded her as his little creature to be enjoyed, the blonde woman would have never been given the relationship she wanted. She would either find a man with an ego small enough to conceal his infidelity, or one boring enough to never consider an affair. Either man would be much better suited for her needs, and Elsie had only saved her a few week’s time.

Still a shame though, to see such optimism crushed.

James continued the dance as though he had not just destroyed a spirit and Elsie looked up at him, her lips straight though hinting at a smile. “I pity her, and her kind,” Elsie said. “They never seem to quite fully understand what they lose, be it their dignity or their company.”

With every chuckle that escaped his lips, Elsie thought of more extravagant ways to spurn her soon-to-be conquest.

She tilted her head at his words. “I would like something stronger, I’ll admit. And I believe I’ve found the company that most interests me for the night.”