(1938-12-05) For Looking, Not Taking
Details for For Looking, Not Taking
Summary: The new, more confident Esther is beginning to get the attention of her peers. A light conversation ends in a short pre-bed dance for Marcus.
Date: 1938-12-05
Location: Slytherin Common Room - Hogwarts Castle

Amusement is a good way to describe Marcus' expression as he lies on one of the sofas, not quite all the way down, rather, taking more space than he needs as his legs lazily hang over the edge of the sofa. He's looking up, one eye squinting really hard, the other one open. All as he holds his finger up and… uses it to shoot imaginary bolts at the ceiling.

Esther stumbles out of the girls bathroom, and yawns cutely. After being seen in her nightie two nights in a row, she's dressed in her full uniform - Well, partially. Blouse and skirt. She's thin, and her hair doesn't seem to hold the water the way others might - IT's that lovely, bountiful mess again already. She's ready for another long night in. Marcus receives a bit of a smile, as she makes her way into the common room proper. "Marcus." She notes. One of the only Slytherin's who doesn't stick to last names, poor Lowe that she is. Or, as the nickname has begun to sneak back into circulation, 'Hair.'

"Esther," Marcus replies, also using her first name, although is not as common for him to do so, at least not with just anyone. Not quite looking in her direction at first, he takes a few more imaginary shots with his finger at whatever he's shooting at. Then there's a deep breath and he finally straightens up, facing her as he stretches. There's a moment of study, as hazel eyes regard her. "You're all dressed up," he makes no attempt not to sound like a master of the obvious. "Going somewhere?"

"No." Esther answers simply, and bites her lower lip. "I normally wake later." She explains simply. She spends her nights alone in the common room, and sleeps in the evenings, wherever she can. "We'll be under curfew soon anyway." Her own disarming grey eyes focus on Marcus', matching his stare. "Dreaming about being a Wizard?" She asks, her tone… Perhaps a little teasing. The last two months have allowed the girl to come out of her shell - In some cases, far out.

Marcus does well alone, but he enjoys the company of others, in a way. "That we will," he agrees. "But if you -are- going somewhere, I won't tell, if you don't," he winks, his tone certainly playful. Perhaps almost dangerously so. Her words cause him to offer a single chuckle, followed by a smirk. "Dreaming? Why dream when you can live through it," he replies, and holds his finger up, going 'pew' as he points it at Esther, raising his eyebrows for a moment. "So, what woke you up? Were you, dreaming about being a wizard?" He arches a brow at the question, then scoots over to make room, in case she wants to join him at the sofa.

Esther smiles kindly. "I dream about all kinds of things. Sometimes being a wizard. Sometimes being a muggle, believe it or not." She avoids the seat for now, wandering over to the common-room table and withdrawing her wand, to tap it against the kettle. "Would you care for a hot drink?" It boils immediately, and she sets about making herself a coffee. "I've been even more of a restless sleeper than normal lately. Too much rolling around up here." She taps her head, "The joys of burning the midnight oil. The tranquility is worth it though. Sickle for your thoughts?"

"Really… Being a… really?" Marcus makes a face, and then coughs. "Eww. Why would you do that? Are you sick? Do I have to drag you to get looked at?" He shivers as if to shake off that idea. When she offers him a hot drink, he lazily leans back, thinking about it for a moment. "Not if it's going to give me weird dreams," he squints at her and after shaking his head once, just shrugs. "Sure, I'll have some." He stands up, stretching again, almost like a cat and walks to stand next to Esther, resting and leaning back against the table. "My thoughts? I've been sort of checking you out, mostly. Although you're far too dressed up tonight," he smirks as he teases her. "How about your thoughts? What's rolling around up there?" He nods to her head. "Please don't say it's about the m-word."

"We all have nightmares." Esther quips, making Marcus a hot cocoa. Out of consideration, of course. "You can check out all you want, Marcus, but I'm not for the taking. No offense intended, of course." The girl does have a bit of a blush at his comment, though. It's been happening a lot lately. "My thoughts. I'm feeling light-footed, playful. I might try and get some painting done, or perhaps write something…" Probably dance infront of the fire, too, but that goes unsaid. "And of course, I've been thinking that I'm finally starting to fill out some." It's true. Under the watchful knife of Tom Riddle, she's gone from 'too thin' to 'just a little bit too thin'.

Marcus offers Esther a dubious look. "I suppose we do. I feel for you," he totally doesn't, "I really do. That is a horrible, horrible nightmare. I hope is not recurring," he purses his lips and manages a smirk, that is -almost- a smile as she offers him the hot cocoa. "Oh, good. I'll keep doing it then, since I have your permission and all," checking her out, that is. And he seems to mean it. He at least offers a serious nod at this. There's a sip from his hot cocoa. "I always feel light-footed. Not sure about playful. Could use some dancing, I'll leave writing and painting to others," he muses, smirking and sipping some more from his cup. Filling out… Well, hazel eyes study her again. "You've gained some weight. In a good way," he decides.

"Like looking into a mirror; Only not." Esther tilts her head, sipping at her coffee gently. "Word is that there's little enough of my to stare at, as it happens." The stare making her a little uncomfortable, but… She made her call, now she can stand by it. Light blouse. And no discernable bra-straps. Interesting. "So you'll be bored before long." She takes her cup in both hands, and walks it over to the fireplace, setting it down on the coffee table. "You'd be suprised how enjoyable painting could be. Even if you have no talent, being creative is it's own reward." She doesn't touch his comment on dancing, yet… Although the gaining some weight makes her smile a little. "Tom has been vigilant. I'm worried that I'll balloon before long. I've never eaten so much in my life."

Amusement touches his lips and Marcus allows a bit of a sardonic smile to show. "I doubt I'll get bored. We can put it to the test if you want," he suggests, unclear how serious he is or not. Still, he drops that subject, at least for now as he takes his cup, sipping from it and follows her to the fireplace. "Oh, I enjoy being creative fine. I just choose other ways to express it," he shrugs. Tom. The name causes him to arch a brow. "Riddle?" A pause. "Huh. Good for him. You could use some meat in your bones." He offers a smile that is way too helpful looking, "Don't worry, if you become all like this," he mimes being well, a balloon, "I'll be total gentleman, and I'll make sure to poke at you until you deflate." He nods. There, his good deed… of whenever this comes to pass. Which is probably never.

"I get busy…" Esther sighs, "And I forget to eat." The young woman shrugs a little bit, slender shoulders standing out against the thin material. Definitely not. "He is a lovely young man. Well then…" She gives her coffee a long, longing glance, before she steps away from the table - One foot forward, the other back, a hand on her hip and the other offered to Marcus - Her hand high, fingers together and pointed down. An invitation, to lead. The few students milling around the dorm don't really care, they're used to students playing whatever games they will during the evenings.

"Just don't forget to breathe. Or, you know, live," Marcus teases in response. A single chuckle escapes him. "I admit, I've never bothered to find out how lovely a young man he is," he shrugs, hazel eyes following Esther's movements as she steps away from the table. He squints a little at the offered hand, but there is no hesitation. There rarely is with Marcus. He finds a place to set his cup down and takes said hand. For a moment there, hints of an honest smile take a peek. They don't last, he manages to turn them into a smirk. Still, he daringly steps forward. "This is a nice surprise." He says the words as he keeps the hand holding hers up, and the other settles just under her arm. There is no warning as he intends to lead her straight into the dance.

Esther's initial stance is submissive, allowing the boy the lead - But a silent dance is a double-edged sword, and Marcus must be careful how he handles it. From slow step, she teases an additional half step, and another. Without warning, she moves to twirl herself, lifting his hand high and delicately twirling beneath it, her smirk just a little bit teasing when she finishes turning, and resumes a much slower step. The brief, but playful dance-off was an amusement, but now she seems content to just 'dance'.

Marcus seems to expect that initial stance from Esther and he appears more than willing to lead. "Show off." He says at her twirling, shaking his head. He continues dancing, though, and not without skill of his own. He looks down at her feet. "How long were you going to keep this a secret?" Her ability to dance, that is.

Esther is light on her feet - Even her hair seems to take on that natural, easy flowing movement from step, to step. Her smile is bright, honest; rare. "Would be once upon a time, you'd never know." She speaks honestly, her grip on his hand changing just a little, a gentle pull against his other hand gives him a warning, before she dips herself perhaps a little bit too dramatically.

Marcus wasn't lying before, he is light on his feet as well. He's not quite smile. He never really smiles, or at least very rarely. There is that smirk, right there as he listens to her and when she gives him the hint, the warning he rolls with it, ready to easily support that dramatic dip. Slowly he brings her back up. "Show off." He repeats, but offers her a slow clap. "You should do more of that," he gestures to her feet. "My toes survived the experience. Maybe one day you'll be good at it," he teases. He stretches again. "I think I need to go do that annoying sleeping things. And I truly hope I don't dream about muggles," there is disdain in his voice. Frowning, but not really meaning it, he adds to Esther. "If I do have nightmares, I'm blaming you." His eyes study her for a moment more. "So I hope I dream of more pleasant things."

The dance is over far too soon. Esther's barely having to adjust her breathing, although her cheeks are a little flushed, as she gets back to her feet. She offers a light curtsey to the boy, and teases. "One day you might just be able to lead a girl, without being lead." A faint smirk in relation to dreams, she suggests. "I can only hope you dream of more pleasant things. Although I promise, while being a Muggle might be frightfully boring, there's nothing to be afraid of." She reaches down, casually grasping her coffee. "We're far more than they are, anyway." She sips. Did she really just say that?

Marcus completely ignores that first comment about leading a girl. What? He led just fine! If you ask him, that is. So he mirrors that smirk of Esther's as she speaks of dreams, at first offering a dubious look. "It's more than just boring, who knows what kind of damage it does to your head," but the, she fixes it with that last statement. That actually causes him to almost smile, as he nods his agreement. "We are." There is conviction, lack of hesitation and certainty in his voice. He walks over to where he left the hot cocoa, picking it up and drinking what's left of it. "I'll see you later, Esther."

"Vale." Esther murmurs, offering him a wave as she moves towards the couch. Already lost in her own mind.

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