Balancing Act
Title: Balacing Act
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters: Oswald Dawlish
Rating: PG
Other: It fits somehow. Honest. It also bites, but that's how it goes. XD Ah well. I really just wanted Dawlish to show up, so here you are.
They may have called him revolting, but no one who knew Oswald Dawlish could rightly refer to him as careless. He laid plans for every endeavor, had an alibi-necessary or not-ready for every instance, and reviewed thoroughly each venture. He understood a woman’s past and present before taking her. Dawlish was no fool, after all; Merlin only knew where these woman might have been, or with whom they might have consorted.
Each one shone with undeniable beauty. Dawlish was never one to turn toward modesty, and he made certain that every woman wore only the most beautiful, and often revealing, attire. At times he took two together, matching or contrasting them to his liking, dark with dark or dark with light, hair to match, complementary silks. He preferred longer, fuller hair, would chide even the slightest tangle, would run his fingers through passionately as soon as the door had closed.
When others saw him with one of these beauties, they saw because he wished them to. And why not show off such glittering companions? He could instill envy and loved to do so. Jealous eyes amused him; the growing haughtiness of his women excited him. He had some small need of privacy, but what was it to him if the world knew he took these women? He would only discard them, and he certainly wasn’t the only man to have his women (he could, if asked, name several prominent Ministry officials-including one Mister Gumboil-who spent more time around loose women than they would ever publicly admit). None could fault him for hiding a vice. If he flaunted his passion, they could accuse him of no secrets, and his own strength was solidified.
He might have taken a disguise, but preferred his own skin. To attract them, he preferred his natural appearance. Personal attraction brought greater appeasement. It gave him greater claim to desirability. His beauty brought women swiftly to their knees, as Dawlish liked to boast. Savage might roll his eyes and mutter, but Dawlish needn’t feel threatened. He held his power, climbed higher in the ranks, and knew by their eyes and voices that they admired him as much as nearly all of his colleagues did.
At times, there was vague danger. Nothing terrible, nothing that came near a true threat, and nothing that could deter his amusements. Certain women became unnecessarily dramatic upon discovering that they were not alone in his surface affections. How they could be surprised by this information, Dawlish never understood. Nor did he understand why they thought that they might overpower him. Every attempt was laughable and, indeed, Dawlish would laugh at the misguided women until they either calmed down or bolted from their room, clothing left behind entirely. Such scenes were unfortunate, but never perilous.
Mostly it was fun and games, a bit of pleasure on the side. He never allowed such pursuits to interfere with an assignment. He never took a woman whom he couldn’t trust. And he was always watching; if on nothing else, Dawlish agreed with the infamous old bat on the need for constant vigilance. A bit of watchfulness saved a whole lot of trouble and allowed for still more enjoyment.
Oswald Dawlish was no fool. He had his women, but he also had much more. A captivating personality, a fair amount of sense, a passive yet capable wife, and a blossoming career. The trick was to handle these and remain entirely beautiful, to remain ever energetic, and he had learned this trick well.
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters: Oswald Dawlish
Rating: PG
Other: It fits somehow. Honest. It also bites, but that's how it goes. XD Ah well. I really just wanted Dawlish to show up, so here you are.
They may have called him revolting, but no one who knew Oswald Dawlish could rightly refer to him as careless. He laid plans for every endeavor, had an alibi-necessary or not-ready for every instance, and reviewed thoroughly each venture. He understood a woman’s past and present before taking her. Dawlish was no fool, after all; Merlin only knew where these woman might have been, or with whom they might have consorted.
Each one shone with undeniable beauty. Dawlish was never one to turn toward modesty, and he made certain that every woman wore only the most beautiful, and often revealing, attire. At times he took two together, matching or contrasting them to his liking, dark with dark or dark with light, hair to match, complementary silks. He preferred longer, fuller hair, would chide even the slightest tangle, would run his fingers through passionately as soon as the door had closed.
When others saw him with one of these beauties, they saw because he wished them to. And why not show off such glittering companions? He could instill envy and loved to do so. Jealous eyes amused him; the growing haughtiness of his women excited him. He had some small need of privacy, but what was it to him if the world knew he took these women? He would only discard them, and he certainly wasn’t the only man to have his women (he could, if asked, name several prominent Ministry officials-including one Mister Gumboil-who spent more time around loose women than they would ever publicly admit). None could fault him for hiding a vice. If he flaunted his passion, they could accuse him of no secrets, and his own strength was solidified.
He might have taken a disguise, but preferred his own skin. To attract them, he preferred his natural appearance. Personal attraction brought greater appeasement. It gave him greater claim to desirability. His beauty brought women swiftly to their knees, as Dawlish liked to boast. Savage might roll his eyes and mutter, but Dawlish needn’t feel threatened. He held his power, climbed higher in the ranks, and knew by their eyes and voices that they admired him as much as nearly all of his colleagues did.
At times, there was vague danger. Nothing terrible, nothing that came near a true threat, and nothing that could deter his amusements. Certain women became unnecessarily dramatic upon discovering that they were not alone in his surface affections. How they could be surprised by this information, Dawlish never understood. Nor did he understand why they thought that they might overpower him. Every attempt was laughable and, indeed, Dawlish would laugh at the misguided women until they either calmed down or bolted from their room, clothing left behind entirely. Such scenes were unfortunate, but never perilous.
Mostly it was fun and games, a bit of pleasure on the side. He never allowed such pursuits to interfere with an assignment. He never took a woman whom he couldn’t trust. And he was always watching; if on nothing else, Dawlish agreed with the infamous old bat on the need for constant vigilance. A bit of watchfulness saved a whole lot of trouble and allowed for still more enjoyment.
Oswald Dawlish was no fool. He had his women, but he also had much more. A captivating personality, a fair amount of sense, a passive yet capable wife, and a blossoming career. The trick was to handle these and remain entirely beautiful, to remain ever energetic, and he had learned this trick well.