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+----- Thread: sunflowers in paris ~ drama (/showthread.php?tid=1193)
sunflowers in paris ~ drama - Dragomir Zdravkova - 08-11-2026
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Sunday, 01 July 1923
~ 11:00 am ~
Paris, France
~ 11:00 am ~
Paris, France
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
The portkey had set him off in Paris’ magical district thirty minutes ago, just enough time to find the hotel where Matilda and her grandmother stayed. Drago had never been to France before, but he had to admit he immediately liked it ten times more than Britain. Couldn’t his family have expanded here instead? Of course the atmosphere was still a far cry from home, but it was certainly an improvement over Britain.
Perhaps it was the architecture, or the people themselves, or perhaps simply the fact that France felt less dreary and dull. Whatever the reason, Drago found himself wondering, with no small amount of annoyance, why his family had ever bothered with Britain in the first place.
But of course he knew. There was nothing to be changed about that, and at least he hadn’t had to learn French as well. It sounded even more abstract than English did.
Finding a spot on an unoccupied bench, Drago settled across the hotel’s entrance. It gave him a clear view of anyone coming and going, a habit he didn’t bother changing.
He was excited to see her again. After four weeks apart and Father’s unrelenting work schedule, Drago had felt her absence quite intensely. He had known on his last day at Hogwarts that things were about to change, that the escape school had provided — and the ease with which he’d been able to find her — would be over for now. Matilda still had another year left, and in the meantime, Drago would have to make do with her letters and the four Saturdays she was allowed to visit Hogsmeade.
Life would be strange without her presence, though. He had gotten used to it. To the comfort she provided.
He tried not to dwell on it. There was no point. And yet, he hadn’t been able to keep from showing up, from finding her when she wouldn’t expect him to. His thoughts had drifted more often than he had anticipated, each one bringing with it a hollow ache he hadn’t quite known what to do with. There had been no time to inspect it any further, and Drago hadn’t minded.
After only a few minutes of waiting, he saw her — red hair catching the sunlight, dress swishing around her calves. For a moment, he simply watched her, the familiar sight of her doing something strangely pleasant to his chest. Then he was on his feet, crossing the short distance with a few strides, a grin tugging at his lips.
Coming up from behind, Drago came to a halt. “You are bad at hiding, Sunflower,” he said teasingly, folding his hands behind his back.
RE: sunflowers in paris ~ drama - Matilda Nordstrom - 08-12-2026
One more day. One more day and she would be away from her grandmother for the rest of the summer. She was staying in Paris, while Matilda went back to London. Thank Merlin for small mercies.
The hotel room, while large and opulent, was shrinking in on her the longer she stayed in Allegra’s presence. Even with her own bedroom, there was not enough space to breathe.
Allegra was being her manipulative, horrible self. Snide comments meant to cut down her self esteem. Her grandmother liked her grandchildren meek, moldable and compliant. Unfortunately for her Matilda was none of those things.
“Don’t eat that! You don’t need the extra pounds.”
“They taught you how to apply makeup, use it to hide those ghastly freckles.”
“You’re not smart enough to make it on your own, be happy Dragomir will take you off our hands.”
“Keep your mouth shut. You have nothing to contribute, so stand there and try to look pretty.”
None of it was new. Matilda had heard the same words for years. Most days they rolled off her back. Today they didn't.
Getting ready for the day, green dress on, hair braided. Much to Allegra’s dismay, Matilda grabbed her clutch and left the room slamming the door on her way out. Very unbecoming. Not the way a lady should act.
Alone on the stairs, clomping down a flight before she stopped herself and sighed. Taking a deep breath, she tried to center herself. It was difficult in heated moments like this, but she needed to try. Shaking off the morning, quite literally, she shook out her limbs and rolled her neck to clear the tension.
Pausing to take another deep breath, she opened her eyes and began walking down the steps to the lobby, this time poised and proper. Thankfully, no one was there to witness her very unladylike exit.
Once she stepped through the hotel's front doors, Matilda stopped. She had nowhere in particular to be. That, oddly enough, felt wonderful.
Warm sunlight settled over her as she drew in a slow breath. The cool morning air helped wash away the last of Allegra’s words.
One more day. Just one more day.
The familiar feeling prickled across the back of her neck. It was unmistakable. She was being watched.
”You are bad at hiding, Sunflower.”
A choked sound escaped her mouth. Surprise registering on her face. Her hand came to rest on her stomach, as if the simple action would calm the butterflies. Turning slowly, she half expected no one to be there. It had happened more than once on this trip, why not now.
But it didn’t happen this time. He was there, in all his insufferable Russian glory.
”You’re here.” The words were a soft whisper, filled with emotion. Part of her wanted to jump in his arms, but the society mask was on.
A small smile crossed her lips. After the horrible morning, he was exactly what she needed. And once again, he found her. He always found her.
RE: sunflowers in paris ~ drama - Dragomir Zdravkova - 08-18-2026
Her surprise was audible before it was visible, a small gasp that did more to him than it should. When she turned, something in his chest expanded violently, excited and bright, pushing his smile wider. He had expected to feel happy upon seeing her again, but this was on another level entirely, barely containable.
Part of him wanted to reach for her right there and then, pull her in for a hug, make her kiss him senseless, but the circumstances of their whereabouts made that unsuitable. If he were honest, it was surprising Matilda wasn’t doing the same herself. Over the past year he had known her, her restraint on impulsivity in public hadn’t been the strongest, her care for propriety not quite the kind he would expect. Something he had gotten used to — to some degree — and a risk he had been willing to take by showing up so unannounced.
No one here knew them; no one would care for more than a startled glance and a shake of their heads should they collide like carefree, overjoyed teenagers. But they didn’t, and somehow, he almost felt a little disappointed.
Part of him had hoped to be overrun by her.
He stored the strangeness of that thought away for now.
When she smiled, Drago reached for Matilda's hand, pressing a kiss to her knuckles before stepping closer to plant another on her cheek. “I told you you would see me sooner than you think,” he murmured, pulling back a second later to look down at her with an amused glint in his eyes. “Unless you want me to cancel our lunch reservation and spend more time with your lovely grandmother?”
He smiled knowingly, lifting his left arm — his right hand was still lightly wrapped around hers — and checked the time. “We have two hours. Is that enough time to tell me of everything you haven’t written me about?” His gaze found its way to hers, taking a moment to drink her in. And he couldn't seem to get his fill of her, nerves firing.
Four weeks. Only four weeks.
He had been separated from his family, his brothers and sisters, for far longer than that, and yet he'd never come close to feeling like he did right now, bursting at the seams.
Usually the picture of rigorous restraint and unshakable discipline, Drago found he was actually teetering on the edge.
Before his resolve could break completely, he slipped Matilda's hand through his arm and led her down the street, eyes ahead. The thought only struck him then. "Or where you going somewhere?" he asked, looking around after all, steps faltering.
RE: sunflowers in paris ~ drama - Matilda Nordstrom - 08-18-2026
The fog was lifting. Shock at his sudden appearance gave way to happiness. A strange feeling when looking at Drago. For so many months anger and annoyance won out, not anymore.
The kiss against her knuckles and another against her cheek were perfectly respectable. The picture of a high society greeting. Her grandmother would probably applaud the pair.
Matilda, unfortunately, only found herself wondering how long it would take before she could convince him to be very unrespectable.
Merlin.
Paris had finally broken her.
She blinked rapidly, trying to shove the memory of his lips against hers back into whatever corner of her mind respectable young ladies were supposed to keep such thoughts. It refused to stay there.
His voice pulled her back, a blush coloring her chest, neck and moving up her face. "Unless you want me to cancel our lunch reservation and spend more time with your lovely grandmother?" Lovely had never been used in the same sentence as Allegra Nordstrom.
A horrified sound escaped before she could stop it. "Absolutely not." She answered quickly.
"I would sooner volunteer to scrub dragon enclosures with a toothbrush." Only after the words left her mouth did she realize how eager she sounded, her face scrunching up in a wince. ”...That wasn’t very lady like, was it?”
Matilda was holding onto his arm, probably tighter than she needed too. He wasn’t going anywhere, at least not right that minute. Her hand ran over his arm, memorizing the way the muscles supported her arm in his.
“We have two hours. Is that enough time to tell me of everything you haven’t written me about?”
"Two hours?" she repeated, pretending to consider it seriously. "To summarize three weeks of Lady Beaumont explaining the correct way to smile while someone talks incessantly, never letting on that you want to die?" Her nose wrinkled as the memory of that lesson came back into sharp, boring focus. "No. We'd need at least six."
Matilda turned, so that her body was now right in front of him. Head angled up so that her blue eyes could look into his brown, happy to see the gold flakes still in place. His face was the same… but different. Looking at her now, in the streets of Paris, he seemed happy. Content, possibly? Whatever it was, she liked it.
Smiling up at him, all pretense of her not liking him gone. "Though I'd rather spend those six hours doing literally anything else…" her head tilted to the side, eyes roaming over his face, landing on his lips for longer than was appropriate. Seconds later, her eyes kicked back up to his. "With you."
Closing her eyes, she tilted her head back and sighed. He did horrible things to her brain. ”Just so you know, for the last month I’ve done a great job at keeping these thoughts inside my head. You show up and my verbal filter flies right out the window.”
The smell of cedar, citrus, leather and wool found her nose. Something so unmistakably Drago that every bit of tension she'd carried out of the hotel simply... disappeared. Which was frankly a problem.
The etiquette instructors had spent three weeks teaching her posture, conversation, and composure. No where in that three weeks had they prepared her for walking arm in arm with the infuriatingly handsome Russian. She would need a much longer course to work through those issues.
Once again, her mind had drifted, his voice bringing her back to the present. "Or where you going somewhere?"
She looked at him, then looked down the street towards the shops, then back up at him. A slow mischievous smile appeared, the most Matilda she had looked in weeks.
"I was… but I've decided wherever you were taking me sounds significantly better." Then, after a pause, looking up at him through her long eyelashes. "Preferably somewhere my grandmother isn't… Possibly somewhere you stop kissing my hand like a gentleman."
Her eyes widened.
…
Oh no.
Her eyes squeezed shut.
"See?" she groaned dramatically. "This is what you've done to me."
Lady Beaumont would probably faint.
RE: sunflowers in paris ~ drama - Dragomir Zdravkova - 08-23-2026
Her aversion to his suggestion that she spend her time with Mrs Nordstrom instead was precisely how he’d expected it to emerge. Immediate and dramatic. Apparently her etiquette course had not managed to dive quite so deep. Drago felt himself chuckling, smiling down at her.
“You know you can always complain about her to me,” he said, meaning that. “I am almost used to your unladylikeness.” He grinned, slightly nudging her with his elbow.
Looking at her, he felt something like relief. He hadn’t expected this course to flip her inside out and return her as a changed woman. In fact, he had rather anticipated the opposite. An innate resistance to any attempt to stifle the wild Matilda seemed to carry anywhere she went. Fuelling it further instead, considering it was Allegra’s doing and the past they shared. Matilda’s letters themselves had voiced her contemp clearly enough.
But he knew she had been trying. Her letters had mentioned that too. Already, he could sense a slight change in her behaviour.
"Two hours?” she intoned, drawing a smirk to his face. “To summarize three weeks of Lady Beaumont explaining the correct way to smile while someone talks incessantly, never letting on that you want to die? No. We'd need at least six."
Seeing the true Matilda glimpse through, however, the fact that she was still herself around him, almost as though unable to help herself, felt…nice. And the more she spoke, the more he realised just how much he loved the sass in her words. The cheekiness of her attitude and air, the expressiveness of her face. How light it made him feel.
He had no choice but to bathe in it. Matilda had a talent for talking and talking without needing anything in reply, and Drago was more than willing to comply. When she suddenly stopped, positioning herself in front of him, Drago halted, raising an expectant brow.
"Though I'd rather spend those six hours doing literally anything else…"
His mouth opened to make suggestions, but they got stuck on his tongue when her eyes dipped to his lips, lingering there longer than a mere glance. His heart did a funny jolt.
"With you."
Stilling, he snapped his mouth shut. He blinked a few times, unsure he had understood correctly, but then her eyes closed, head tilting back as she sighed.
“Just so you know, for the last month I’ve done a great job at keeping these thoughts inside my head. You show up and my verbal filter flies right out the window.”
It took him another second to remember how to be human, but then a slow smile spread over his face, eyes gleaming with a knowing glint. Matilda loved to pretend she didn’t like him, merely tolerated his presence, though her speech and body language told a different tale, and Drago had realised that a long time ago. It was one of his favourite things to tease her with, enjoying her reaction every time.
They both knew she liked him, reluctantly but definitely. One day, he knew she would admit it. For now, he contented himself with the truth she let slip by accident.
“It is because I am irresistible, Matilda,” he shamelessly grinned, ignoring the urging sensation creeping forth again, even though he leaned in by a fraction. His voice dropped to a low murmur. “Unladylike indeed.”
He straightened, reluctantly, and was about to move them along once more, but Matilda wasn’t done yet. Looking up and down the street, she met his gaze with a small grin.
"I was… but I've decided wherever you were taking me sounds significantly better. Preferably somewhere my grandmother isn't… Possibly somewhere you stop kissing my hand like a gentleman."
His lips parted, the breath stuck in his lungs as he stiffened slightly.
Somehow, he figured, he should be used to this. And yet, every time Matilda let those truths slip, he found himself like paralysed for a beat longer than should be necessary. And with his nerves frayed and jittery already, Drago could feel the restraint slip from his hands at last.
Matilda’s eyes widened, and then squeezed shut, and Drago thought, fuck it.
Before the last of her words had left her lips, Drago had already spun them on the spot. A split second later, their surrounding changed from open, sun-lit sidewalk, to shadowed, narrow alleyway. The air felt cooler here, the main road’s noise distant and muffled. It was empty and quiet, almost too narrow for two people to pass by each other comfortably. Barely materialised, Drago already pulled her in, leaning down to capture her mouth with his, hands sliding around her waist. He didn’t care if someone saw them like this, not right now. He couldn’t. Overwhelmed by the feel of her lips on his, her scent in his lungs, and the feel of his hands on her body, a low hum rumbled through his chest before he could stop it. He broke away only far enough to look into her eyes.
“And this is what you are doing to me,” he said, taking a step forward and forcing her against the wall. A cheeky grin tugged at his lips. “You’re risking my reputation, Matilda.”
RE: sunflowers in paris ~ drama - Matilda Nordstrom - 08-25-2026
The familiar feeling behind her belly button alerted her to their location change, before her feet hit the ground. The air was different when they materialized, cooler, darker. But before she could process the change, his lips were on hers.
A shocked sound could be heard, but his lips blocked its escape.
This was not their first kiss, but until now he had kept his cool. Restrained. Kept his hands, for the most part, to himself, but all restraint was lost as his hands explored her body. Running over her waist, her curves, her back.
Breaking apart, Matilda took in a deep breath.
“And this is what you are doing to me,” he said, backing her up against the brick wall. A cheeky grin softening his face. Those damn dimples making an appearance. “You’re risking my reputation, Matilda.”
Her hands were resting on his chest, moving slowly, one roamed up to his shoulder then rested on the back of his neck. The small hairs ticking her fingers. Rising on her tip toes, Matilda looked into his eyes, ”For the record, I’m really ok with that.”
And then she was pulling his face to hers. Their lips met again in a heated, passionate kiss. The smell of cedar and bergamot and something so specifically Drago, that she couldn’t put a name to it. Using her hand on his neck and the wall against her back, she managed to get that much closer.
For one suspended heartbeat, nothing else existed. The weeks apart. Paris. Allegra. Etiquette lessons. The ache of missing him. All of it disappeared beneath the overwhelming relief that he was here and she was in his arms.
It frightened her how easy it would have been to forget everything else.
And then, because the universe clearly hated her, Mrs. Beaumont's voice chose that exact moment to crawl back into her head.
Pulling away to take a breath, Matilda rested her forehead on his chest and shut her eyes. Deep breaths. In and out. As much as she wanted to rid her brain of the voice, it persisted.
”I can't believe this. After all this time, I can't believe this is actually happening.”
Shaking her head, back and forth, a groan left her lips. This was a very inconvenient time to grow a conscience.
”This is all your fault. As everything usually is…” She tried to laugh, but it came out more strained than she anticipated. "A year ago..." She laughed once, though there wasn't much humor in it. "A year ago I'd have stood in the middle of the street and kissed you until someone physically dragged us apart." She groaned, pressing her forehead harder against his chest. "Now I've got Mrs. Beaumont, my grandmother, your father, your aunt, and my grandfather all living in my head rent-free. This can't be healthy."
Looking up into his warm brown eyes she nearly broke. Her eyes shut, making what she had to do a tiny bit easier.
“I don’t know why. It honestly defies all logic and natural instincts, but I actually care what people think. I don't want people looking at you and wondering whether you made a mistake choosing me.”
She was near tears with how difficult this moment was. There was no reason for it to happen now, of all times. Here, in the alley, with his body up against hers.
”I can't believe I'm saying this, but maybe we should stop.” She grimaced, hating the words she just spoke. Even with the bitter taste of propriety on her tongue, she held him close.
”For the record, I really hate you right now. Because normal Matilda would never stop this, but you had to go and make me a lady.” She said, one arm flinging up in exasperation. She punctuated her frustration with her lips on his again, arms wrapped around his shoulders.
”Da chto ty budesh delat!”
She broke them apart with a Russian phrase that just sort of… came out…
”And just so you're aware, having your dad and my grandparents stuck in my head telling me this is a bad idea is very disconcerting and a little annoying, because when I'm kissing, my boyfriend I really don’t want THEM in my head. Maybe there's a potion for that. I don't know. I'll look into it, but for right now, it's probably best if we stop.”
Her heart was racing and her breaths were coming out in pants between her verbal tsunami. It was official, he broke her. Thoroughly.
”Stop looking at me like that. You're making it incredibly difficult to be responsible. With those dimples and that smile? That's not fair.”
Letting her head fall back against the brick wall, she shut her eyes and groaned. Whispering into the silence, ”I think I really really hate you right now.”
**What on earth am I supposed to do?!
RE: sunflowers in paris ~ drama - Dragomir Zdravkova - 08-27-2026
Her hand glided over his chest and up to his neck, her tiptoes bringing her face closer.
“For the record, I’m really ok with that.”
Drago grinned.
Her lips crashed against his, and for a few blissful moments, nothing mattered. Any thought of etiquette shrank to the back of his mind with a frightening lack of reluctance, leaving him the room necessary to kiss Matilda back with the same fervour she put forth. Encouraged by the relative safety of the alley shrouding them in shadow, Drago allowed himself to stop thinking for a while.
Her body pressed closer to his, and then suddenly she was gone.
Drago blinked, feeling her head coming to rest against his chest, his heart thundering beneath. Suddenly conscious, he glanced up and down the alley.
“I can't believe this. After all this time, I can't believe this is actually happening.”
No one. They were still alone. Shaking the sudden moment of panic from his mind, Drago tried to focus on what Matilda was saying. “Happening?” he asked, hands still resting on her waist. “What do you mean?”
“This is all your fault. As everything usually is…”
Naturally, Drago almost chuckled, though he did wonder what he’d done this time.
"A year ago...A year ago I'd have stood in the middle of the street and kissed you until someone physically dragged us apart. Now I've got Mrs. Beaumont, my grandmother, your father, your aunt, and my grandfather all living in my head rent-free. This can't be healthy."
A slow, heavy feeling crawled into his chest, drawing the humour from his face and a frown over his brow.
Had he done this to her? Dimmed her light somehow? A year ago, he would never have dreamed of worrying about such things, already expecting this betrothed he hadn’t met yet to behave as they all did. The way he knew them to—the way he did. And then he’d learned otherwise, had slowly grown to enjoy how different she was, how warm and wild and soft.
She had told him about her grandmother. The summer she had spent with her and what she’d done. Back in that greenhouse, Drago realised, had been the first time he’d felt something more than mere duty. A need to protect, to shelter and prevent.
When she pulled back to look at him with swimming eyes, he couldn’t quite explain why he suddenly felt so guilty. “Matilda,“ he said softly, but she was closing her eyes and already continuing.
“I don’t know why. It honestly defies all logic and natural instincts, but I actually care what people think. I don't want people looking at you and wondering whether you made a mistake choosing me.”
His frown deepened. “Matilda, don’t.”
“I can't believe I'm saying this, but maybe we should stop.”
A stillness fell over him, terrifyingly close to panic. Stop? Stop what? Them? Their arrangement—?
“For the record, I really hate you right now. Because normal Matilda would never stop this, but you had to go and make me a lady.”
Relief loosened his breath, mixing with another wave of guilt that rolled in with her words, only to end in confusion when her lips briefly pressed to his. Was she angry at him? The world? Etiquette? It was hard to tell, and her sudden Russian didn’t help either. Maybe her frustration wasn’t directed at him then.
Still, the low sense of shame lingered, tangled with a helplessness he couldn’t quite shake. What choice was there? The world worked a certain way, and straying too far out of line was dangerous. He knew; she didn’t. He preferred it that way.
“And just so you're aware, having your dad and my grandparents stuck in my head telling me this is a bad idea is very disconcerting and a little annoying, because when I'm kissing, my boyfriend I really don’t want THEM in my head. Maybe there's a potion for that. I don't know. I'll look into it, but for right now, it's probably best if we stop.”
The word boyfriend rattled through his head like a stone in an empty tin can for a moment. Boyfriend. What a strange sensation that left behind. It disarmed him long enough for all concern to sink beneath the surface, and lift through it the familiar feeling of knowing playfulness instead.
He didn’t think she wanted to stop at all. He recognised that tone, that look. It was the same she always got when she thought she could fool him.
Grinning like a wolf, Drago watched her head fall back against the wall.
“I think I really really hate you right now.”
Humming, he leaned forward, his hands around her waist drawing her closer as he pressed a kiss to her neck, right below her ear. “I don’t think you do, Matilda,” he murmured against her skin, propriety forgotten once more.
Smiling, he placed another kiss on the edge of her jaw. “You can be responsible later, and we can stop when we’re done.”
His lips found hers again. Just for a moment before he broke away, the tease gone from his face and replaced by something softer. “You don’t need to worry, okay.” He brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “When you’re with me, you can be whoever you like. No one will see, and no one will know.”
Eyes twinkling, his grin returned. “I only made you a lady for the public after all,” he said, hands gliding to rest atop her hips, pulling her flush against him. His smile edged a little sharper. “The real Matilda is for me.”