#Cairo New Year Holidays

[mariammohamed21]

Uncovering Fayoum: An Adorable Autumn Retreat.

Fayoum, located just a short drive from Cairo, is one of Egypt's most attractive hidden secrets, providing visitors a perfect blend of breathtaking scenery, rich history, and vibrant culture. book your tour through Egypt TOURS to enjoy your perfect tour.

Fayoum is typically overshadowed by more well-known Egyptian locations you can visit this location from EGYPT TRAVEL PACKAGE to enjoy your tour, fayoum is just as compelling. With its lush foliage, glittering lakes, and ancient artifacts, the region entices those seeking adventure and peace. And when the autumn season arrives, this sanctuary exhibits its most charming side. enjoy your tour at Pyramids, Nile Cruise, and Sharm El Sheikh Christmas Tour with your family.

Autumn in Fayoum is a lovely season. As temperatures fall to a gentle, comfortable level, the region comes alive with the beautiful colors of seasonal change, making it a perfect destination for exploration. This is the season when nature and culture thrive, giving visitors a unique opportunity to experience Egypt at its most authentic. From the tranquility of Lake Qarun to the magnificence of ancient ruins and the dynamic pulse of local festivities, Fayoum in the autumn is a memorable vacation.to discover these magnificent sites book Cairo and The Red Sea Christmas Tour to enjoy your holiday.

Fayoum is a land of opposites. The lush greenery of its farms borders the parched desert, and crystal-clear lakes are surrounded by craggy mountains you can check this beauty at Christmas Holiday package for 4 Days to Luxor from Cairo to visit all locations. This geographic diversity has made Fayoum a historically significant place from ancient times when Egyptians developed agricultural techniques that let this land to thrive for millennia. This verdant oasis is most beautiful in the fall. The fresh, chilly air stimulates outdoor exploration, while the harvest season brings the countryside to life and activity. make your perfect tour at Cairo to Luxor Christmas tour to make unforgettable memories with your family,

The Fayoum Oasis is one of Egypt's largest and most fertile regions, known for its agricultural bounty, ancient irrigation systems, and breathtaking natural beauty as Wadi El Rayan, a magnificent natural reserve located southwest of Fayoum, is recognized for its distinct ecosystem and breathtaking waterfalls you can visit this place from Cairo to Sharm El Sheikh by flight As visitors explore the area, they will learn that it is rich in both history and natural beauty. enjoy your Christmas by booking from Egypt Christmas tours to make it unforgettable day.

@cairo-top-tours

[egyptonlinetours1]

Cairo New Year Holiday Package

Cairo New Year Holiday Package

Celebrate the New Year in the heart of Egypt with our Cairo New Year Holiday Package, designed to immerse you in the rich history and vibrant culture of this fascinating city. As you arrive in Cairo, you’ll be greeted by our friendly guide and taken to your luxurious hotel, where you can unwind and prepare for an exciting adventure. The festive atmosphere of the city during this time is truly enchanting, with lights, decorations, and celebrations around every corner.

Your journey begins with guided tours of Cairo's most iconic landmarks. Explore the majestic Pyramids of Giza and the Sphinx, marveling at the ancient wonders that have stood for thousands of years. Visit the Egyptian Museum, home to an extraordinary collection of artifacts, including the treasures of Tutankhamun. As you wander through the bustling streets, don’t miss the chance to shop at the famous Khan El Khalili Bazaar, where you can find unique souvenirs and experience the local culture.

On New Year’s Eve, prepare for a night of celebration! Enjoy a festive gala dinner at a top local restaurant, featuring delicious Egyptian cuisine and live entertainment. As midnight approaches, join in the excitement with locals and travelers alike, welcoming the New Year amidst fireworks and joyous festivities. This vibrant celebration creates an unforgettable atmosphere, marking the beginning of a new year filled with hope and adventure.

Throughout your stay, you'll have the opportunity to experience Cairo's rich cultural heritage, from traditional music performances to guided explorations of historic neighborhoods. Discover the stunning architecture of Islamic Cairo, including the beautiful mosques and ancient churches that tell the story of the city’s diverse past. Engage with locals and savor traditional dishes that showcase the flavors of Egypt, making your holiday truly immersive.

As your Cairo New Year holiday comes to an end, take some time for last-minute sightseeing or shopping before your departure. This unforgettable experience not only offers a glimpse into Egypt’s ancient history but also creates lasting memories filled with celebration, culture, and connection. Start the New Year with the magic of Cairo, a destination that promises adventure and inspiration at every turn.

Cairo New Year Holiday Package by Maestro Online Travel to celebrate New Year's Eve in Cairo through our fanciful Cairo Tours in New Year exploring the pharaonic history in ravishing ambience for Xmas or New Year in Egypt.

Itinerary

Day 1 Arrival Cairo/ Welcome to Egypt

You will start your New Year Holiday in Cairo with a meeting and assistance service upon arrival at Cairo airport by Maestro Online Travel REP. Transfer to your hotel in Cairo Welcome drink upon arrival at the hotel in Cairo and Check in with free time to relax, Optional tours are available, Overnight in Cairo

Day 2: Pyramids, Memphis, Saqqara Day Tour

Breakfast at a hotel in Cairo, Meet up with a personal Egyptology guide, and explore the wonders of the great Giza Pyramids area which are the most famous monument of the world & of Egypt, Necropolis of Sakkara where you start by visiting the step pyramid in Egypt, then Memphis which was the first capital of all Egypt after the unification between South Egypt and north Egypt 3500b.c. Enjoy Shopping tours in Giza. Back to hotel for overnight

Day 3: Cairo Day Tour

Breakfast at a hotel in Cairo, Meet up with your personal guide Private tours in Cairo to visit: Egyptian Museum, the richest museum of Egyptian antiquities in the world, visit Citadel of Saladin, the great fortress of Saladin where you can visit Mohamed Ali Alabaster Mosque, your last stop will be at Khan El Khalili Bazaars. Then transfer back to the hotel, and overnight stay

Day 4: Free day in Cairo

Breakfast, leisure time in Cairo, Optional visit to Alexandria highlights from Cairo via Car, Overnight in Cairo

Day 5: Final departure

Breakfast, check out and leave your room before 12PM, Maestro Online Travel representative escort you to the Cairo Airport terminal for the final departure

For more info

·         info@egyptonlinetours.com

·         https://www.egyptonlinetours.com/

[alarici]

State of decay

Rated T, 950 words

-

In the years since the Kira case, with Near at the helm, and L and Watari long since buried in the plot beside the west wing, what was once called The Wammy’s House decays.

It takes seven years to fully dismantle the program. The youngest children need to find foster homes or new families or other, carefully vetted, well-funded programs to matriculate into. The older children are graduated and placed in the best universities around the world—set to become the everyday successes of tomorrow. Tsinghua, Juilliard, Cairo, LSE, UCLA, Tohoku, ETH Zurich, Oxford. The residual funds are allocated appropriately to make sure that everyone is well taken care of. Study funds and stipends, merit grants and insurance.

Personally, Near sees to the edge cases. Kids who, according to the headmasters and the instructors, never lived up to the promise of their aptitude testing—the weak, the attention deficit, the headcases. He speaks to each one—Do you want to live alone? Do you want to learn a skill and work? Do you want to go back to where they found you? What are your medical needs.

It’s dispassionate work that he takes on in his limited spare time. The dismantling of the program was not necessarily his idea, but he saw it to the end.

By 2024, L Lawliet has been dead for almost two decades. Enough time for a child to grow and have a child of their own. Near has no children—will never and can never—and finds this fact amusing.

At exactly 13:23 GMT on 21 October, 2024, Near celebrates a homecoming of sorts.

—

The grounds have been left to wither. The estate is unsellable—or, nobody wants to bother selling it to a Silicon valley expat or a London financier’s portfolio. After all, it was a school. Renovations would be required.

When Near is driven into town and left there—”I’ll get there from here, thank you,”—he overhears, in a quiet cafe, that the children think the mansion on the hill is haunted. “Halloween” is an American holiday that is not celebrated in England. The evening is foggy and limpid. The sky threatens an afternoon rain.

He arrives at the wrought iron gates at 15:13. He knows there is nothing for him, here. But he’s already been given this time to pay his respects. A holiday of sorts. Never in the past twenty years has he kneeled before graves. He expects he won’t today, either. There is nobody here to pay respects to. Mello is buried in an unmarked plot in a quiet district of Tokyo. The stake on the eastern edge of the property in Winchester—In Memoriam, Mihael Keehl—is growing moss. Near stops by this landmark, first. Many colleagues and coworkers, commanding officers and cadets, have died since Mello. Near has not kept track of many of their names.

Mello’s memorial has not been cared for. They stopped sending groundskeepers to the property in 2019. Near carries a book in one hand, his plastic cane in the other. He stares at the spike, leans on the arm brace, and considers the most respectful acknowledgment of this memorial. This isn’t what he came here to do. Mihael Keehl—no, Mello—has been dead for more than a decade. In that time, Near has solved more than five hundred cases. A-Kira. The Hong Kong murders. The Dubai trafficking ring. A few stray Death Notes.

In the years elapsed, the loss has simmered. Like soup, which Near has seen others make (his current boyfriend is fond of cutting the mirepoix into centimeter by centimeter cubes) the thought of Mello is turbid and wafts around him constantly. However, there is no room for the what if. There is only the course the universe bent, that day.

Near, in his own way, has paid his respect. Said his thank yous, if he owes any thanks. He bows, as far as he can manage, to the spiritless grave. He does not kneel.

In Tokyo, Mello’s bones are likely rusting, rotting in the temperate soil. Were he buried here, at 51° latitude, he may still have his skin, in death. But this is unimportant. He would not wish to be buried here.

Near bows, and says two prayers for the dead. He knows a Latin version as well as a Hebrew. To this day, he does not know if Mello died religious—died believing in any gods beyond those he had met and been scorned by.

“Requiem aeternam dona eis Domine, et lux perpetua luceat eis.”

“יִתְגַּדַּל וְיִתְקַדַּשׁ שְׁמֵהּ רַבָּא.”

He adds a hymn Mello might have sung for his parents in the dialect he most likely spoke before his life as a successor began.

“Святой Юмо, Святой Куатле, Святой Колыдымо, мемнам серлаге.”

Near has been told not to pass judgment on the irrationality of faith, so he has learned the hymns. The grass grows tall around Mello’s stake.

One year, Near had gotten angry about it. Back when he was twenty one or twenty two—inconsequential—and awake for forty hours, Near had raged at a silent room over it, and never again. And the anger was not about the death, nor about Near’s inheritance, his duty. Not Mello’s mistakes nor his sacrifice. Likely, looking back with the hindsight and wisdom of a man ten years older, Near images he experienced as much grief as he was capable of, that night. There was no grave to stand over, and there was no body, in the small room in Cape Canaveral when Near was twenty one. No surviving images of him. No letters nor notebooks. The bout of rage, insanity, grief (he cautions to call it) was triggered by a smell (something sweet burning), of all things. And had subsided with the yellow dawn.

The frustration was likely at being left alone. Of his own inefficacy in his first trial, and the acknowledgement that a man like Mello had deserved to live to see more days. Had deserved better than a pine wood stake on a lonely corner of the grounds of the school where he was raised and an unmarked plot in Adachi City, Tokyo.

Next, Near walks slowly towards the house itself. A jackrabbit sprints across the lawn in front of him. A hawk circles to the north. 

[dw-writes]

The Invasion...Chapter Twenty-Two

Summary: Mad Sweeney could not recall the last true believer he had. Sure, he’d been brought over as one of the Fair Folk, but it was different. A sliver of the truth, a dim shadow of what he was really owed. The belief of someone who followed traditions, not him.

That changed when he arrived in Cairo.

That changed when he laid eyes on you and he found that one didn’t have to believe in the myth to believe in the man.

A/N: I am.... SO SORRY. this chapter really shouldn't have taken me [checks calendar] LOL ALMOST A YEAR TO WRITE HOLY SHIT IM SO SORRY. i hope you guys enjoy this chapter, please let me know what you think!!! And i'm sorry ahead of time for the pain :3 (not really yall were expecting it) also enjoy the latest crossover to happen in this series. i hope you enjoy!!! :D

Chapters: Chapter One || Chapter Two || Chapter Three || Chapter Four  || Chapter Five || Chapter Six || Chapter Seven || Chapter Eight || Chapter Nine || Chapter Ten || Chapter Eleven || Chapter Twelve || Chapter Thirteen || Chapter Fourteen || Chapter Fourteen-ish || Chapter Fifteen || Chapter Sixteen || Chapter Seventeen || Chapter Eighteen || Chapter Nineteen || Chapter Twenty || Chapter Twenty-One || Chapter Twenty-Two Requests: Mad Sweeney and The Holidays || The Invasion and the Stressful Blows One Shots: The Invasion and That One Thankful Holiday || The Invasion and the Weight of Change || Eyes On You

The Invasion and the Big Easy

Beautiful Aphrodite had only ever felt rage twice in her long life - once, thousands of years prior, as she watched the carnage that unfolded to retrieve the prize that she had given young Paris, and second, when she saw you.

You, sitting in an empty room, eyes glassy from too much alcohol and manufactured self-doubt. She knew what it was from, had felt your heart chip throughout the night from across the country while you fitfully slept under the concerned gaze of a new friend. Whispers of a voice filled the corners of the quiet room.

She turned to them, her incorporeal form non-existent to your unfocused gaze and the man who sat on the floor near you. The face of a young woman filled the unplugged television. Rose didn’t recognize her – it was some different form of Media, a newer one, a viral one. The young woman stopped whispering and met the goddess’s furious gaze.

The television cracked, the image disappeared, and the room fell silent. She turned back to you and watched your exhausted eyes close. The man mumbled, lifting his head to check you, then settled back against the wall with a sigh.

She made a note to learn his name and remembered how love existed in so many forms.

Elsewhere, Rose slumped into the arms of her two loves. They exchanged worried glances above her head as she mumbled to herself, “My poor messenger.” She sighed. Her concerns traced the cracks in your heart through your long day to the point she remembered last speaking to you, when you were happy, and the events of your day played out against her eyelids.

You stood at the edge of a cliff, overlooking a large and bustling Athens of a different age. Your bare feet were cradled by plush, green grass while a cream-colored toga fluttered around your legs.

“We haven’t talked in a long time,” said fair Aphrodite as she stepped up next to you. You tried to look at her, but her face kept changing, as did the rest of her. She cycled through so many features like an ever-changing portrait, each paint stroke melting into the next, all trapped beneath a pale pink robe that brushed the ground.

“Have we ever really sat and talked?” you asked.

She smiled. It lit up the world. “You know what I mean.” She nodded at you. “Nice toga.”

“I’m liking the breeze,” you replied with a smile of your own.

“Yeah? It’s nice, isn’t it?” she teased. You laughed, and she watched you, her features melting and solidifying into a face that was familiar to you. You cleared your throat and looked up at her.

“Sweeney?” you asked.

She shrugged broad shoulders. “Yes and no,” Rose answered with a voice that wasn’t hers. “I’m the goddess of love, remember?” She lifted a hand into the air. “Funny, I never would have guessed this, though. Not in a million years.”

“Which part?” you whispered.

She shoved her hands into her pockets. “All of it,” she replied, “None of it. You know, I thought I had a grip on these things, but you keep surprising me.” She smiled. You longed to see that smile on his real face. “Tell him soon, okay?”

“I will,” you promised.

You opened your eyes as easy as a blink, staring ahead into the purple black haze of the dark room. Sweeney snored behind you; a hot arm thrown over your shoulders. You gingerly wrapped both hands around his wrist and frowned.

Was it a warning? A piece of advice? It could’ve been anything – your friends weren’t always so forth-coming in their intentions.

You stared at the room, thinking over everything that had recently happened, watching the darkness become blue, then gray, and a watery white as the sun started to rise. Your phone buzzes with the alarm for your meds, and you squirmed out of Sweeney’s grasp to take them.

You washed your face in the attached bathroom, brushed your teeth, changed into different, cleaner clothes. You woke Sweeney and insisted he stay quiet to not wake anyone else in the house. As you two left, you wrote a thank you note for the parents, and folded up Mitchel’s number for the sisters.

“I hope they get in contact with each other,” you sighed as you followed Sweeney across the large yard. He grunted, yawning, and continued towards the water’s edge. His lit cigarette brunt orange in the faint morning daylight, glinting off a key in his hand. “Sweeney?”

His boots clomped over a rickety pier just out of sight of the house. A boat swayed at the end of it.

“You’re joking,” you called after him. He waved you off without a word. You groaned, looking back up at the house behind you, and followed him. “You’re stealing their boat.”

“Borrowing,” he grunted, placing the cigarette between his lips, “’m borrowing – we’re—” he corrected, looking up at you as he crouched, “We are borrowin’ their boat.”

You crossed your arms. “Do you intend to mosey on back up the river with it when we’re done in New Orleans?” you asked. He climbed into the boat. You looked back at the house again and scrambled after him, pinwheeling your arms to keep your balance in the small craft. “Put out your cigarette,” you wheezed, “Before you blow us up.”

“’m not gonna blow us up!” he argued.

“You have the shittiest luck on either side of the Mississippi, Sweeney, so I’m sorry if I don’t trust you saying that,” you snapped. He sat back, glaring at you, which you returned. When you didn’t budge, he slowly pulled the cigarette from between his lips and flicked it out into the water. You took a deep breath and sat down. “Someone’s gonna get back at you for that,” you mumbled.

“You were so nice yesterday,” Sweeney mused as he sat back, “What happened? Hm?”

“You decided to steal the boat of a family that wanted to help us,” you shot back with a shrug, “And it’s not even theirs! This isn’t even their house!”

Sweeney groaned loud enough to drown out your complaints, twisting around to start the motor. You braced against the sides of the boat as it started down the river, glaring all the while at his smug smirk. You settled in after a while, watching the trees pass along the riverside. “What was that about my luck?” he said as he carefully steered the craft.

“You have shit luck,” you repeated, “The only reason you’re not dying some wildly fiery death is because I’m here and I don’t have shit luck.”

He snorted, shifting on the seat, and absently twisted his warped coin charm around his neck. “Ya know, maybe you made me another lucky coin,” he muttered absently, “Ever think of that?”

You watched him before you spoke. His eyes were trained on the river behind you and he carefully steered down the gentle curves, keeping away from other boats and suspicious shallows. You didn’t answer him for a long time. You balled the sleeves of your denim shirt in your palms and pulled it closer to you, wishing it was just a bit thicker to keep out the cold air coming off the water.

“Maybe I did,” you finally said as the river became more crowded with boats. He hummed as he looked up at you, slowing the boat down and threading it through the crowd to the dock. “Maybe I did make you a lucky coin,” you repeated.

He snorted as he climbed out of the coat. He held out his hand to you. “Bein’ facetious, luv,” he grumbled.

You took it, swinging your bag onto your shoulder as you climbed out. “Big word,” you teased. He tugged you hard against his side. “But really,” you said with a small smile, “Always told you that it was about belief. And I really think those coins were pretty lucky if they stopped a bullet and saved your life.”

“We’ll see,” he mumbled. He squeezed your hand, then led the way out of the marina and into the crowded streets, keeping you close so that the two of you wouldn’t be separated. You eventually found your way to a less crowded area of shops. Sweeney slowed down. “Ya hungry?”

“A bit,” you sighed, “We didn’t really eat anything at the house since someone stole their boat.” You looked up at him.

He rolled his eyes and looked around, tugging you behind him to a food truck on the corner. He huffed, lip curling in a teasing sneer as you pulled out your wallet and paid. He took the food he’d ordered, and yours, and tucked a bottle of beer in the crook of his elbow as he started to walk. You followed him, taking your food with a sigh as you kept pace with him. He stopped at a statue of the Virgin Mary, then smacked the top of his beer against its stone pedestal to pop the metal top off, and chugged half of it.

You watched him, slowly eating your food, leaning against the pillar across from him. “Sweeney?” you asked once he finished his beer.

He buried his face in his elbow as he released an ugly burp. You whistled slowly. “Whut?” he grumbled, taking a large bite of his meal.

“Are you okay?” you asked. You set your food down, worry twisting at your gut, and moved closer to him. “You’ve been a little weird since we got here.”

“Just got here,” he grunted.

“That’s exactly what I mean,” you shot back. You crossed your arms, staring up into his face. He scratched his chin, then down his neck as he watched you in return. “I’ve known you too long for you to pull this shit and not expect me to ask you about it,” you gently said.

He continued to stare, his blunt fingernail scratching at the label on the bottle until it started to peel. He didn’t say anything, though. His eyes grew dark the longer they traced over your face, until, finally, they fell away. He sniffed and looked at the crowd shuffling past you, scratching the growing stubble on his chin again. “Just don’t wanna see ‘em,” he grumbled.

“Hey strangers,” came the call of a familiar voice. Sweeney groaned, dropping his head back with the sound, and turned away while you smiled and spun around.

“What a sight for—” the words shifted in your mouth as you took in Laura Moon’s new, fresh face and glowing skin, “Sore eyes, holy shit Laura.”

She smirked and twirled, holding out her arms. “Guess that old man doesn’t lie, huh?” she said.

Sweeney rolled a hand in the air, tossing the empty bottle behind him. “Then what, pray tell, are ya doin’ here, huh?” he sniped, “What, you figure that the quick ‘n easy don’t last?”

You looked up at him, struggling not to roll your eyes. “Really?” you whispered.

He shrugged. “Just pointin’ out the obvious,” he muttered.

“In a really asshole-ish way,” you replied.

He lowered himself against the pillar, leaning into your space. “Never heard ya complain before,” he murmured.

You narrowed your eyes, arms crossing over your stomach. “I call you an asshole a lot, actually. Pretty sure I use it more than your name,” you argued.

“It ain’t bad enough that it kept ya from kissin’ me though, ain’t it?” he asked with a smirk.

You snapped your mouth shut.

Laura’s voice was far too loud in the crowded street when she shouted, “You what?!” followed quickly by, “Holy fucking shit,” and, “It’s about time!”

“Excuse me?” you scoffed, turning to her. “No?”

“Yes!” she countered.

“That’s not the argument here, the argument is how he’s an asshole for getting on your case,” you tried. Behind you, Sweeney started to snicker.

“Uh, no, fuck that, I’m over it,” Laura said with a wave of her hand. She closed the gap between you. “You kissed this sasquatch? Seriously? What, was it against your will, or did you actually want it?” She gasped, her face alight with joy at the first taste of gossip she’d had since she died. It really gave you a glimpse of who she had been before. “Did he tell you that he—”

“Ya here for the Loa, yeah?” Sweeney cut in, coughing on ill swallowed spit.

“That’s not important right now, is it?” she countered, glaring, “Is it really?”

“Course it is,” he replied, pushing away from the pillar. It was your turn to stare at him with narrowed, suspicious eyes as he walked past. “Second longer without my coin is a second too long, Dead Wife. Let’s get this over with.” You followed after him. He tossed the bottle into the nearest trash.

“What crawled up his ass?” Laura grumbled as she walked next to you.

You shrugged. “He’s been like this since we got here. I don’t think he wants to deal with the Loa at all.” You tilted your head, then leaned towards her. “Do you know anything about the Loa? I haven’t read anything, just know what he’s told me.”

“Not a fucking clue except that they can bring me back,” she said.

“Huh,” you sighed.

Sweeney led you both around a corner and stopped in front of a small building. Above the door was a sign that swung in the humid breeze, displaying the black rooster that had started to fade in the sun. He paused at the door, rubbing his neck, then he turned to you both. “Ain’t no backin’ out of this once we start,” he said. He stared at Laura, his face the epitome of sobriety. “You wanna do this?”

She rolled her eyes and yanked the door open. “Let’s just fucking hurry up, I don’t have all day,” she griped.

Sweeney held the door open for you, his arm brushing your shoulder as he leaned down to whisper, “Stay close.”

You nodded and stepped inside.

(Rose frowned as the scene against her eyes shifted, showing you through the eyes of a goddess she’d never met.)

Bridget – lovely and strong – felt her heart lodge in her throat the moment you walked into the Black Cock. She knew the man you walked in with, knew the emotion that made him hold open the door for you, dip his head towards yours, brush your back as you passed him.

Mad Sweeney was in love with you, and you him, if your subtle lean into him was a clue, and he didn’t explain a damn thing about the Baron’s specialty if you have followed him and the woman there.

He was about to break your heart.

She knew all too well that not everyone enjoyed their partner stepping out, but even the ones that didn’t mind it never came with them to ask the favor.

He hadn’t fucking told you.

In the ten seconds it took for your trio to enter the bar, Maman Bridget’s opinion of Sweeney soured. Something must have shifted in her, too, as her husband’s fingers lightly prodded her back in question. She smiled, mirthless, and stepped out from behind the bar.

What a fucking coward.

(And then, there you were)

You watched the red-haired woman move around the end of the bar. She passed Sweeney, sharing a look with him, before she moved through a door you hadn’t noticed before.

(Imaged passed through your mind – piles of stones upon marked graves of women, women standing beneath weeping willows that shielded them from mist and shadow, drums beating against ears; but also, there were doctors in damp fields and poets writing by candlelight and rough handed blacksmiths and farms all framed by an ever-burning flame.)

You sat heavily at the bar. The weight of recognizing a two-faced goddess rested heavily on your shoulders and the back of your neck. You stared absently at a bottle in front of you, barely listening to the sound of Sweeney’s voice as he traded barbs with the man behind the bar. Your vision swam when you finally looked at him.

The man himself was tall, even lounging back against the back bar, with a top hat that made him even taller. He had deep, dark skin with the cool undertone of a clear night radiating from beneath. His bright eyes, while filled with humor, were scanning over your trio with a knowledge you couldn’t place.

The wall behind him melted away when he met your gaze. There was a history behind him, spanning centuries and countries, filled with celebrations and swearing and death and spirits and all framed by a heady smoke that filled your lungs and spilled over your lips on a shaky exhale. When you breathed in, there was life and sex and booze, singing and loud music and a sharp tang of spiced rum on your tongue.

You couched and squeezed your eyes shut to the man’s grin, bracing against the bar as you struggled to regain your composure. Beneath it all, you recognized a gap in your knowledge that ached in your chest and made your heart race. The lack of information made you anxious and it hurt. You refocused on the bar, scooping up a bottle near your fingers, and struggled to listen to the conversation.

“And when she is not around,” purred the Baron, his voice floating through the air, “I fuck a lot of other women.”

You were joining an already complicated conversation, you knew it, and maybe it was nerves clawing at your throat that forced your mouth open to say, “Doesn’t Maman Bridget help women with unfaithful lovers?” The air chilled for a moment, but nothing rang untrue in your skull. You glanced up from the bottle of pepper-infused rum in your hand. “What?” you asked, “I’m not wrong.” You were defensive, yes, your voice sharper than you intended.

The woman, who you knew had left through a door before, was standing next to the Baron behind the bar. She arched an eyebrow and smiled. “I like this one,” she murmured. She released the man and rounded the bar again, almost materializing by your side with her smooth movements. No wonder you hadn’t noticed her return. “I wouldn’t mind keeping you around,” she said, leaning against the bar, “The Baron might even warm up to you.”

“Thanks, but I’ll pass,” you replied, “No offense.”

The Baron laughed – loud and full, a sound that echoed a little harshly in your ears – and leaned towards you. “She’s right,” he murmured, “I like you.”

You smiled. There was an air to him that was familiar, and you voice as much when you said, “You remind me of another friend who owns a bar a lot like this. I think you two would get along.”

He snorted as he leaned back, eyeing Bridget over your shoulder as she slipped behind you. “Maybe you could introduce us,” he replied.

Sweeney sat heavily on the stool next to you, grunting and leaning into your warmth. “How’s about we stop makin’ nice,” he grumbled, “I gotta favor.”

Bridget smiled. “From what I hear, it’s not like you to do favors, Sweeney,” she sighed and your smile grew tighter, “Hasn’t that been your friend’s job?”

You frowned at the way she said ‘friend’. Sweeney huffed, shifting in his seat and leaning away from you.

“The Dead Wife,” he sighed, waving a hand towards Laura on his other side, “Is dead.”

The Baron flicked the rim of his hat up and leaned close, spreading his hands along the bar. “Don’t look dead,” he said. He sniffed, long and loud. “Don’t smell dead, neither.”

“Smells Norse,” Bridget commented with a sigh. She leaned towards Laura and picked up her hair, sniffing it. “A bit Greek? A bit…” Her hand snapped out and slapped the side of Sweeney’s head. He started to protest when Bridget opened her mouth and let loose a violent rant of Gaeilge so fast it didn’t sound like words.

Laura leaned back to share a wide-eyed look with you.

The Baron laughed.

Sweeney hunched his shoulders around his ears as Bridget swore. Her voice dropped as she switched to English, “You lost the Sun’s treasure?!”

Your leprechaun swung a hand towards Laura. “It ain’t lost, it’s in there!”

“It’s not yours anymore, is it?!” Bridget snapped, “Not the Sun’s but some dead woman’s!”

“And she’ll only give it up if she ain’t dead!” Sweeney shouted.

The Baron stood straighter. Bridget’s mouth clicked shut and her eyes glanced past him to you.

“Why we’re here,” Sweeney finished.

“That’s powerful magic,” the Baron murmured, “With a steep cost.”

“We’ll pay,” Laura replied, unknowing.

Sweeney shoved his hands through his hair and leaned on the bar, ducking his head low.

It was quiet for a moment. The Baron and Bridget exchanged looks. Then, Bridget cleared her throat. “Come back at closing,” she answered, “We need time to prepare.”

Sweeney was up and out the door before she finished. You stood to follow, stopped only by the woman’s hand on your arm. Laura lingered at the door.

“You shouldn’t come back,” she said, “It’s not magic involving you.”

You frowned, feeling a calm warmth seep into your skin, but pulled away. “We’ll see,” you replied.

You left.

Laura waited outside, talking about places to stay, and started towards the main road like she knew the area. Sweeney shuffled behind her, and you after him. He didn’t look at you, didn’t slow to walk next to you. He just walked, shoulders hunched, hands shoved in his pockets.

The three of you eventually made your way to a small hotel not far from the French Quarter. They had one room left, and the cost left you lightheaded, but you dug the cash out of your bag and paid regardless. Once you were given the keys, you turned to see what Laura and Sweeney wanted to do until it was time to go back, but found Sweeney gone.

Laura shrugged when you asked her where he’d gone. “Dunno,” she said, “Didn’t even see him leave.”

You frowned. “Okay,” you sighed, leaning to see if you spotted him anywhere. “What do you wanna do until he gets back?”

A smile lit up Laura’s face. She led you back outside, and down the street, stopping at every shop between the hotel and the bar. You found ink for Mr. Ibis, an antique set of mortician’s tools for Mr. Jacquel, and a new toy in the shape of a bat for Bas. Laura found a cute dress, which she showed you only after you had left the store, and she changed in an alley. There were other stores, other things purchased or stolen, other smiles shared and memories made.

It was dark soon enough, and the two of you stumbled back to the bar in each other’s arms, laughing like schoolgirls.

Sweeney was already there, waiting, face drawn as he pushed the door open. He didn’t say anything as you walked past him, didn’t even look at you.

Bridget looked away from the Baron with a smile that fell the moment she saw you.

(Coward. What a fucking coward.)

“I told you not to come,” she said, leaning on the bar, “This doesn’t involve you.”

“Why wouldn’t I be here?” you asked, confused, a bit incredulous, “They’re my friends.”

Even the Baron looked a bit lost as he watched Sweeney. “Sex magic only calls for two people,” he explained slowly, “That who requested, and that who benefits.” He tilted his head. “And those who cast it.”

“What?” His words rang in your ears. Laura’s hands disappeared from your arm as she said something, then the Baron, then silence. Three sets of eyes burned into your face as a fourth actively avoided looking at you. “What?” you asked again.

“It’s magic,” Bridget said at the confused look in your eye, “Just magic.” It was like she was trying to soothe a burn, but instead of aloe, it was lemon juice.

“Potent magic,” the Baron added. He slid his hand up over her ass. “Only kind that’ll work for this, too.”

Laura whispered your name.

You smiled. You had to – for her, who you’d come all that way for, and for Sweeney, who…

The smile hurt. You’d rather the platitudes from Bridget.

You nodded, glancing around the room. “Yeah, I know,” you said, voice cracking, “Why we’re here.” You cleared your throat. It burned. “I’ll be at the hotel then.” The door thumped against your back as you reached it. Laura had the grace to look away as you fumbled it open and left.

Once outside, the door slipped from your fingers and shut with a heavy thunk. The hot night warmed your clammy skin and sunk into your clothes until you started to sweat.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“Just don’t wanna see ‘em.”

“You’re a liar!”

He knew.

(He really was a coward.)

You walked, shouldering through the thick evening crowd as your thoughts wandered away.

Why were you upset? He wasn’t yours, despite all your wants, and thoughts, and wishes. He never was, and, if you were honest, he never would be. You weren’t supposed to be there in the first place, weren’t supposed to be trailing after a man who worked for a god you shouldn’t have met. You were supposed to be home in Cairo. In your bed. Alone.

Fading.

Dying.

Dead.

Your feet shuffled to a stop. People milled past you, unseeing, like you were just something in their way and not a person on the brink of an abyss. You couldn’t tell what you were staring at – a swirl of blurring colors that spanned what must have been the road or the crowd or the buildings, it was all bright and it hurt. Heat spilled down your cheeks and your vision cleared.

A shoulder clipped yours. You stumbled, the rest of the tears rolling down your face, jolting back into your body when you weren’t even aware you’d left it.

“I’m sorry—oh,” a voice thick with a deep southern twang danced in your ears. Warm hands brushed your shoulders. “You alright, darlin’?” Your tears continued. They wouldn’t stop, even as you lifted your eyes from the ground, up past a white collar framed by metal filigree points, and met a warm, brown gaze set into a tanned and tired face. The Preacher’s brow furrowed as he muttered a soft, “Shit.”

You shrugged a shoulder away from him, mumbling something you knew was a lie, but that might’ve also been an apology.

He followed, standing close, staring past you, then turned you around towards a door. You barely heard his voice. You tried to take in more of his features, wondering why he bothered when no one else did – his hair was messy but stood in soft peaks around his head, while the sides were shaved close, and a splatter of dark freckles covered the bridge of his nose. He spoke again, meeting your gaze when he did.

The air trembled around you. Something traced his words out onto the air. You could’ve mistaken the anomaly for a heat wave if it hadn’t been at the end of your nose.

He guided you through the crowd and into a cold bar. You shivered at the sudden change, you sweat suddenly ice on your skin. His hands left you to remove his coat and drape it around you. You watched him roll up his sleeves. Hs pressed a hand between your shoulders and led you to a booth. Two other people were already sitting there, arm against arm.

“Padre?”

“Jesse?”

“Now,” the Preacher – Jesse – motioned you further into the booth, taking up the edge seat when you complied. “This here is Tulip, and Cassidy,” he quietly introduced.

You were pretty sure you gave them your name, but you couldn’t be sure.

“We ain’t here for—” Cassidy’s voice cut off with a yelp.

Tulip adjusted in her seat, shooting the man, Cassidy, next to her a glare. She smiled at you. She was lovely. “You alright, hun? You look down,” she asked. Jesse next to you suddenly jumped, swearing under his breath. “Why don’t you and Cass get us all some beers, yeah?” she politely demanded. She even moved for Cassidy to scramble out of the booth.

You took her in as she shuffled back across the booth seat – her tight brown coils kept the sunglasses sin her hair in place, and her brown eyes were bright as she stared at the men at the bar. She wore lip gloss, and her freckles were just a shade darker than her soft brown skin.

She flashed you another smile, this one not as awkward. “You okay?” she asked again. Her eyes darted over your face. “I mean, you don’t really look okay, but do you wanna talk about it?”

You shook your head. You mulled over her words, adjusting yourself in Jesse’s coat as you struggled to settle back into your skin, forcing yourself into the situation. Out of all the stupid things you could’ve done, you were led into a bar by a stranger, and stuck in the corner seat of a booth.

Though, there were worse things you’d done, too.

And it was a Priest that led you into the bar. Out of all the strangers, that was one that you could, maybe, trust more. And given the weird thing that happened when he spoke, it really reminded you of Anders, and you scrubbed your face with your hands with a groan. Fully covering your face, you dropped your elbows on the table and rambled out everything that had ever happened – from meeting Sweeny in Cairo, to sitting in the bar with her at that moment. Your voice cracked as you spoke, and you barely registered Cassidy or Jesse returning sometime towards the early middle of your tale.

Tulip took your hand and wrapped it around a beer, the polite look on her face replaced with a familiar frustration.

“Now, I ain’t one for religion,” she started, quickly rolling her eyes as Jesse cleared his throat. “Wasn’t,” she corrected, “But someone wanted us to meet because I think we are uniquely qualified to help you out right now.”

Cassidy slapped his bottle on the table, leaning in curiously. “Yer man really a leprechaun?” he asked, “Flighty fuckers, ain’t they?”

“I’m sorry?” you laughed, clearing your throat.

“Nah, I’m old, yeah, been everywhere in my hundred years, and I ain’t ever come across a shrewder or fucked fae than a fuckin’ leprechaun,” he answered.

You properly grabbed the beer and had a long drink. “And how—”

“Oh.” Tulip slapped his arm. “Cassidy here is a vampire,” she said casually, then waved a hand at Jesse next to you, “And Jesse has the literal word of God in his chest.”

“Tulip,” he sighed, as though it was a long-worn topic of contention.

The edges of your world became a little more defined the longer you sat with them. “A vampire, a priest, and a woman,” you mumbled, “I’ve been in weirder situations.”

“Yeah, alright,” Cassidy said, waving his hand in a circle over the table as he adjusted in his seat, “Circle back – how the fuck did ya land an invitation to the Oester party?”

“Oester?” Jesse whispered to you.

“Easter,” you clarified.

He nodded slowly and sat back, draining his beer in one long gulp.

“Everyone’s always clamberin’ for that, fuck, even the Oester in fuckin’ Qatar has a hard time gettin’ invited some years!” Cassidy continued.

“There’s more than one?” asked Tulip.

“You also said there were multiple Jessues?” butt in Jesse over her.

“Jesi,” Tulip corrected.

“I think it’s just Jesus, ya know, both plural and singular,” Cassidy mumbled.

“We’re lookin’ for God,” Jesse continued, sighing, “Big G, God. Was he—”

You shook your head. “Sorry, Father. Just Jesus.”

“Jesse,” he insisted.

The conversation continued in a similar vein, you giving them more details, them sharing their story. The table collected a large amount of beer bottles as the hours passed.

Sweeney drank just as much as Bridget danced. It was a dance she’d done numerous times, one that he partook in at least once, one she’d done in front of others who owed favors, who needed magic so desperately that they’d toe the line between death and sex just to taste it. She twisted in time to music that formed on the air. Sweeney’s eyes slipped past her, past the figures that appeared around her, to someone she had yet to see. She threw her head back as old words slipped past her lips, and spotted the figure, the one who clouded the Irishman’s mind as the world grew hazy and the magic grew hot. Bridget was grinning when she turned to him, traced her slim fingers up his thighs, which parted for her.

“And, for a moment, I thought you were hung up on the dead girl,” she crooned against his clothed stomach.

Sweeney snorted.

“But it’s someone else,” she teased. Her lips grazed the skin of his neck. He twisted his head away from her. His knee started to bounce. “Bet you’d be more into it if the Informant were here, kneeling between your knees.” She pressed an open-mouthed kiss against his ear. “Just as eager to take your cock as you are to give it.”

He shrugged her off with a growled, “Shut up.”

She arched an eyebrow as she stood, though that Cheshire stretched further across her face. “C’mon, let’s play pretend, hm?” The room filled with an eerie glow. Sweeney rose from his eat. “You be the burly Irishman.”

“Shuddup.”

“I’ll grant your favor,” she purred, voice lilting as Sweeney stepped closer.

“Shut. Up.”

It wasn’t her voice that said, “Make me,” but she squealed when Sweeney scooped her up and pinned her to the wall, anger and frustration brewing hot in his veins. It wasn’t her he saw when he hiked her skirt up and pulled her legs high around his waist, nor when he tilted her hips up and pushed his cock into her with no preamble.

In the haze, he heard the Baron and Maman Bridget laugh.

As the red settled over his eyes, he slid a hand up the back of the figure on his hips, swinging them around, pinning them to the column behind him. They were tighter than hell on his cock and warmer than the sun against his chest and he felt himself swallow his own name as he kissed a mouth he’d become familiar with.

The fingers in his hair were yours.

The thighs he gripped tight were yours.

The voice that mewled and moaned in his ear as he touched and bit groped the right places was yours.

And while part of him knew it wasn’t you – wasn’t really you taking his cock like you were built for it – the rest of him desperately wished it was, and convinced him to enjoy the fantasy while it lasted.

(Laura knew that Sweeney only touched her the way he did was because he imagined it was you, and she desperately wished her imagination was powerful enough to picture the man she kept telling herself she loved, rather than seeing the one she really did.)

Jesse fumbled with the lock to your hotel room for the third time, swearing beneath the din of a party going on down the hall. Cassidy stated that he was sober, that he could open the door, but Tulip hushed him and pointed out that he was carrying you on his back, so he was too occupied to do so. He didn’t argue with her, nor point out that she, too, was drunk.

You cheered when Jesse finally opened the door.

“’ey, I got it,” Cassidy said as he shuffled inside. You were vaguely aware of him ushering Tulip and Jesse away, of him telling them that they needed to get home, and to call a taxi or an Uber.

“You text me!” Tulip halfway shouted around him, waving at you as you were deposited onto the bed.

You flashed her a thumbs up before Jesse pulled the door shut.

Cassidy turned to you, rubbing his neck, and dug through the only bag in the room, mumbling something about getting you a change of clothes.

It gave you a chance to really look at him, really take in his features. He was tall, with hair long enough to stick out in difference directions, and soft brown eyes, and was freckled from his previous days in the sun. His voice was soft as he handed you the clothes and advised you to change. He steadied you, helped you tug off your stubborn shirt and put on your clean one, then sat you on the toilet and grabbed a washcloth.

“Why are you doing this?” you asked, surprisingly sober, given how much you drank.

He knelt and started to wipe your face; his brow knitted together at your question. Then, he sat back on his heels, his arms draped on his knees.

“I’m a real right bastard, love—”

You swiftly corrected him with your name.

He lifted his hands, apologized, and continued, “But I ain’t gonna leave someone alone when they’re hurtin’.” He paused, then sighed. “Specially with somethin’ like this.” He gave you a small smile.

“I don’t deserve it,” you whispered, sniffling. You wiped your nose with your hand. Cassidy held out the damp cloth. You took it, chin trembling, “I don’t deserve any of this.”

“You don’t,” Cassidy agreed. “Fact, from what y’ said, that Sweeney’s a fuckin’ arsehole and deserves an asskickin’, but that’s from the outside.”

You waved your hands, rolling your eyes. “No, I—” You sniffled against and dabbed your nose with the cloth. “No, I don’t deserve your kindness. I don’t deserve your company, I don’t…” Your voice cracked and dropped to a whisper as you continued, “I don’t deserve to be here. Someone else does. Someone stronger, someone kinder, someone smarter.” You hiccupped and covered your face with the cloth, leaning over your knees.

Cassidy sat on the floor at your feet, folding himself around your legs and the toilet as much as his long limbs would let him. He looped his arms around your back. “That’s the shitty booze talkin’, y’know…” he murmured, sighing gently, “An’ I dunno who you think is better. Yer plenty strong, from the sounds of yer story. Kind, too. Smart as a fuckin’ whip.” He frowned. “You deserve what ya put into the world, and y’ve put a lot of good out there.”

Your sob tore through his chest like a stake.

(Cassidy’s heart broke a bit and stitched back together with a bit of love he carried for you until the day he died.)

“Then why…” you trailed off.

He sighed. “Others just put shit out there, too, and that’s a bit bigger than the good sometimes.”

You scrubbed your eyes with the cloth until they burned, then sat up, wiping your cheeks. He took the washcloth, carefully wiping your nose with the corner.

“Know it ain’t much,” he whispered, “But ‘m glad someone like you’s here.”

“I wanna go home,” you whispered, and he felt it in his gut that you didn’t mean a place.

He sighed. “Me, too,” he said, and in that moment, you knew he didn’t mean a place either, and wondered if Tulip was right about the serendipitous meeting.

Your chin trembled. He helped you up, guided you to the bed, tucked you in, then sat next to you. He flipped the television on. You reached over and flipped it off.

“You’re a vampire,” you mumbled, resting your head on his shoulder, “Tell me a story. Tell me your story. I’ll commit it to memory.”

He snorted. “Why you wanna do somethin’ so silly like that, huh?” he asked.

“Everyone deserves to be remembered,” you sighed, closing your eyes. “And everyone’s important enough to be remembered.”

Your phone buzzed on the blankets. Cassidy scooped it up. He tilted the screen towards you.

“He’s really enjoying fucking that dead flesh,” read a text from your sister, sent over one of the social media apps on your phone.

“That somethin’ she’d say?” Cassidy asked, glancing at the phone, “You said somethin’ about gods and the like, too, when y’ were tellin’ yer shit.”

“Never,” you whispered.

He turned the phone off. “None a that, then,” he mumbled, tossing it somewhere on the bed. He threw an arm around your back. “Get comfortable. It’s a long story.”

“Those are the best,” you yawned.

He spun you a tale of two kids playing at being Freedom Fighters in a land you’d grown familiar with, about how one died in battle, another in the streets.

You drifted off sometime during his re-telling of the 70’s.

Old stone homes crowded the darkness of your sleep, looming over you like specters of a past you didn’t know well. You padded barefoot down cobblestone roads and turned a corner to find your familiar library at the end of one.

“Hello, you,” you whispered as you made your way over, pulling open the clean doors. They creaked and slammed shut behind you. It was dark inside. Not dark enough that you couldn’t see, but the once warm candles were no longer lit, instead being scattered, and broken across the floor. You stepped over them with a frown as you walked in.

Thrown across the main room were books – the floor was covered in pages that were ripped and stained, and shelves were knocked against each other. You knelt to pick up a book and sighed. An ache bloomed behind your eye as sobriety quickly approached.

“Leave.” A voice in the sudden silence made you jump. You dropped the book, rising to your feet. A figure stood beside a tipped over shelf. Its eyes reflected what little light filled the room. You gulped, shifting back as it inched towards you. You scrambled for the door and the bright light beyond it, panic clawing at your throat as the thing ran after you. You pulled the door open.

Its hand smashed the door shut. “You don’t get to run away from this!” it snarled over your startled screech, “You don’t get to just decide it’s over!”

“Stop it!” you screamed. It roared against your back, then fell silent. Its heat surrounded you. You swallowed, turning to see whatever it was that haunted your library.

You stood toe to toe, its bright, knowing eyes watched you. Its chest heaved and its arms trembled. You shivered, backing up against the door. It stepped back.

“Who are you?” you whispered.

It opened its mouth and hundreds of names poured out. You covered your ears as the sound of them echoed in your head, pounding against your skull, everything building until it was undecipherable noise.

Fingers wrapped around yours, cold against your hot skin.

Rose opened her eyes, leaning away from her two lovers to pick up her phone. She’d sent a message hours ago, calling on an acquaintance she hadn’t met in decades, cashing in her one and only favor to him.

Her message was the address of the hotel and your room number, attached to the request, “Take them home. Cairo.”

He’d replied, “Done,” and dropped a pin showing that his phone was at the same location.

She sagged with relief and sat back against the couch.

The man saw the read notification beneath his pin, then slid his phone into his pocket. It was easy for him to pick the lock of your room – old doors, old locks, they were nothing for his deft fingers. Though, he swore when he dropped the lock pick, scooping it up into a wide palm as he checked the door. Satisfied, he swung the door open.

Cassidy looked up from gently prying your hands from your head.

The strange man looked around the room. The television had been unplugged at one point, as had the small clock radio. A cell phone sat on the blankets, turned off. And a vampire was tending to the one Rose had sent him for.

He laughed.

“What’s so funny?” Cassidy grunted, standing tall, making sure he was between you and the stranger. The man laughed harder.

The sound was finally enough to wake you. You pushed yourself up, rubbing your sore eyes, and squinted at the man standing in your room. He tilted his head back, somehow larger than Cassidy was before you. “Rose sent me,” he said, waving a hand, “Here to take you home. To Cairo. Let’s go.”

Cassidy glanced over his shoulder at you. You swung your feet off the bed, shrugging, still half asleep and not quite sober as you groggily responded, “Take me home.”

“Y’sure?” whispered Cassidy.

You looked up at him, smiled, and nodded. “I’m sure.” Then, you pointed at your bag. “Give me your number. I’ll update you. And stay here, at least until nighttime. The room’s paid for.”

He hesitated, and gave the man another wary look, but did as he was told with a shrug. He eventually turned back to the man again. “Wait, who’re you?”

The strange man grinned, his laughter finally subsiding. “Call me Iartaithe,” he answered with a wink, “It’s a name.”

“Okay, but why’re you laughin’?” Cassidy asked as he grabbed your bag. He fished for the pen you pointed towards, glancing over when you saw you rubbing your eyes again.

“Just absurd,” Iartaithe replied, “Whole thing. Absolutely fucking absurd.”

“Yeah,” you muttered as you stretched your arms above your head, “Tell me about it.” You waited as Cassidy scribbled down his number, then stretched to grab your phone and turn it back on. You looked up at him. “Can you tell Sweeney where I’m going?”

“I can tell ‘im to fuck right off,” Cassidy replied. You smiled. “Guess I can,” he muttered.

“Thank you,” you said, “He’ll worry.” Then, you frowned, wondering if he’d show back up at all, and remembered that, despite what you wanted from him, he really was still your friend. He’d show up. And he’d worry. But you also knew that you couldn’t stay there anymore, especially alone. You appreciated Cassidy’s company, but you knew he couldn’t stay. You needed to go home. You needed to see Bast again. “Thank you,” you repeated, looking up at Cassidy, “Really.”

He flopped onto the bed with a loud sigh, tapping your phone with his finger. “You better fuckin’ message, or I’m comin’ to find you instead,” he threatened, “Fuck God. He can wait another fuckin’ day.”

You leaned your head on his shoulder, yawning, and stood, scooping your bag off the floor. “Promise,” you swore.

Iarlaithe leaned back against the door, and stepped out into the hall when you followed. You gave Cassidy one last glance, waved when he did, and shut the door on him and everything that New Orleans had brought you.

~*~Thanks for Reading~*~ ~*~Tag List~*~

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[theatrekidenergy]

Okay so I have a fic I’m working on, I just wanted to share a teaser of the concept! Interaction appreciated!

———— (Moon knight and Daredevil crossover)

About 6 years after the Cairo Event, life has settled down quite a bit for the Moon Knight system. It’s mid December, New York is riding the high of the holiday season and coming new year — snow powdering the streets, the soft scent of peppermint wafting from shops, a bit more pep in the average person’s step, and to make things better Steven’s had a stable job as a professor teaching about ancient societies for over a year now. The relationship with Layla has been going well and there’s finally good communication on both ends. No coming to front to see blood on their hands, no having to sleep in a new bed every night, life’s been looking up. That’s until one day Marc fronts; his head on cold damp concrete, surrounded by a room of at least 15 bodies scattered around him, and he’s the only one barely breathing with no recollection of what happened in the past 24 hours.

When the case is opened up by the NYPD there’s hesitance on all ends, that’s until Layla is able to find the perfect firm to help them in their case: Nelson and Murdock.

———

Please comment and / or reblog if you’d be interested in reading!! Or just ask questions about the fic and this universe, I’d actually go feral. /pos

[theficpusher]

Fight me? by lunarheslwt | nr | 1747 'Fight me,' the high voice quipped from under the mountain of pillows, and Harry let out a chuckle, snapping his mouth shut immediately because what was he doing?? The anesthesia must still be wearing off. Harry walked up to the patient again, bemused, and tugged at the pillow, but the person had a surprisingly strong grip on them. Again, with more annoyance in his tone, he said, 'fight me.' Or, Harry is a nurse, to a slightly loopy and sassy Louis.

Green Jello | T | 2341 In Liam’s defense, he’d mostly been joking. Louis didn’t see it that way, of course, but he wasn’t sure anyone else would either, had their best friend dared them to jump into the ocean in the middle of December “for the vine,” and they’d ended up in the hospital with a nasty case of pneumonia and a very high chance of being stuck there through Christmas. *** Louis is stuck in the hospital for the holidays. The only spot of hope is his unfairly pretty nurse.

sunbeams by ohsailor | nr | 2492 Harry is the new neighbour suffering from insomnia. Louis is the night nurse across the hall trying to find ways to help him sleep. They find one that works.

One Way Out by nialleritdidnthappen | G | 5060 Niall was almost surprised that anxiety hadn’t gripped him the moment he got home, that he wasn’t sitting vigilant by the phone, willing on sheer, idiotic hope for the burner number to pop up. The physical demands of the night had taken their toll, so much so that he simply focused on breathing deeply, every exhale clearing his lungs as well as his mind, emptying it of everything but the silent mantra: All you can do is wait.

beat the darkness by turnyourankle | T | 7754 Harry is a volunteer nurse stationed in Cairo; Louis is one of the patients in his ward.

Night Shift by banaanipoika | E | 8899 Louis is into his nurse and suspects the feeling may be mutual. He’s not afraid to take it further and push their relationship beyond the bounds of professionalism, but Harry has been erring on the side of caution. One night, twelve hours into what’s turned out to be a sixteen hour double-shift, stressed, lonely, and delirious with exhaustion, Harry gives in and shows Louis just how unprofessional he can be.

You Gotta Swim, Swim For Your Life [Series] by jaerie | E | 25242 Harry never thought he would find himself battling cancer. Louis never thought he would find himself so attached to one of his patients.

Somebody's Got Your Trainers On (It's You) by bluegreenish | E | 28000 Louis hasn't thought about Harry since half an hour after the shift started, when Krystle told him that she was binging Gogglebox last night and therefore didn't get enough sleep - a sure reminder of Harry’s temporary Gogglebox obsession. Five hours isn't much without thinking about someone, but that's as long as it gets. Louis came to terms with that two years ago. When Harry walked out the door with his stupid New Balance trainers and never looked back. or, the one where, after two years, paediatrician Harry returns to Silver Street Hospital and with it to paediatric nurse Louis' life.

Fractured by thisonegoes | E | 33022 “Can you tell me your name?” A nurse. A nurse's voice. His penlight flashes in front of Zayn's eyes, first his right, then his left. A quick back and forth. To test him. To see if he’s still here. He blinks it away. It’s too bright, stop it, I’m here, am I dying? Hospital AU.

[st-just]

Years later, autopsies would list all the ways the union and workers had been complicit in their own demise. Their contract gains had become unaffordable for the company – not just on wages, but on benefits such as pensions and retiree health coverage, and extended vacations that, for some senior workers, included thirteen weeks off every five years. Their insistence on the ‘past practices’ clause in their contract, which they gained in the 1950s to protect members against automation, prevented the company form assigning workers in the most efficient ways. The union too often covered up for lazy or unproductive workers, the ones who tucked into a truck cab for a nap.

There was truth to all this. It was also true that any indulgence or fecklessness on the part of the union was more than matched by upper management at Bethlehem Steel. Veteran executives were getting seven week vacations by 1980; there were twelve paid holidays for white collar employees, including UN Day and a floating holiday. There were company-paid security forces and chauffeurs. There was bureaucratic bloat and empire-building to rival that of any government agency; in the quarter-century before 1980, the company doubled its ranks of vice-president or higher and, as John Strohmeyer wrote, ‘each of these vice-presidents required there own assistants, assistants-to, managers, assistant managers, and secretaries.’ In 1980, the party celebrated a new chairman with a party in Boca Raton for all its managers and their wives, five hundred people in all – and then sent the incoming and outgoing chairmen and their wives on a global tour in the corporate jet with stops in Singapore, Cairo and London. When the new chairman left six years later, after presiding over $2 billion in losses, he rewarded himself with an 11 percent raise and approved $1 million severance packages for all thirteen vice presidents. One vice president used a company jet to fly his kids to college and go to a vacation retreat in upstate New York. Rank-and-file workers were not blind to such excesses, and took them as a model.

-Fulfillment: Winning and Losing in One-Click America, by Alec MacGillis

[expectodragons]

Bitter Water || Chapter 6

✦ Summary: Guided only by a thin paper trail and a promising job offer, Catherine Hart returns to the school of her youth. Taking on the mantle of Beasts professor, the young witch must find a balance between her lessons and her continued search of the Highlands. Especially when under the watchful eye of the Potion Master. ✦ Pairing: Aesop Sharp x Female MC ✦ Word Count: 15,500 ✦ Rating: Mature, 18+ only - minors do not interact. ✦ Tags / Warnings: Age difference, colleagues-to friends-to-lovers, dual POV, language, mild injuries, slow burn. ✦ Story Playlist: Listen here ✦ Read on: AO3 || Tumblr (continue below)

The merriment of the holiday season had faded like warm breath on a window pane and all that remained was the bitter sting of January’s fury. It doused the valley in snow drifts higher than one’s knee. Pointed icicles threatened to plunge down upon anyone who dared walk under an archway or a line of barren trees – frozen in the silence like toy soldiers amongst the desolate winter landscape.

While Catherine found herself eternally grateful for her late Christmas gift from the potions professor, even the furious heat from the warming charm in her new gloves did little to battle off the wretched chill of the stinging wind.

She hurried through her morning chores each day – finding comfort at the Fire Crab’s enclosure more often than not, though she certainly didn’t dare to stand too close. As though she needed another third-degree burn marring her skin.

Most days the courtyard remained empty apart from the students coming to and from her class. Sometimes, she would spot the bright robes of the quidditch teams as they made their way across the snow-packed path to the pitch. In a world washed out by white and gray, the blur of color was a welcomed sight.

As she fed or groomed the Unicorns and Kneazles, she would sometimes find herself lost in the practice runs and mock games of the teams.

On one particular morning, before the sun had even fully risen, Catherine was out braving the cold. Wrapped up in the warmest clothes she could manage, her eyes alone peeking out from the soft fabric of her scarf. The last of the Mooncalves were out in their paddock, prancing through the snow when she approached with their breakfast.

She checked over all sixteen of the furry big-eyed creatures. Nora’s bandages would need changing by afternoon from the looks of it. And Harold would require another bout of supplements lest he fall ill again.

“Yeah, go on then,” she says softly, patting the head of June – the newest member of the cluster.

They disappear off into their covered enclosure – likely refusing to come out until their lunches are brought about.

With a flick of her wand, the large woven feed sack floats out from the shed and levitates across the yard to the unicorn’s paddock, where five usually stoic creatures were just beginning to rise from their slumber.

“Come on, come on. Before I catch my death, thank you.”

Sometimes, she missed the temperate weather of the lower continents. As much as she had complained of the overbearing direct sunlight during her time in the Golden Coast and Cairo, she would give just about anything for a warm ray of natural light these days.

As she begins portioning out their specially mixed feed into the long wooden troughs, she hears a distant shout from the neighboring quidditch pitch.

“Come on, Parson!”

The Gryffindor team had been out practicing before even Catherine roused to tend to the beasts. She had watched the whirl of red robes ducking in and around the stadium’s towers with a belated interest. They stood a decent chance at the Cup this year if their training was anything to go by. That was, until…

“Watch out!”

She barely has time to lift her head up when a noticeable thump crashes into the top of the classroom’s wards and bounces off into the canopy of trees before slamming down onto the forest floor.

The young professor slashes the warding in an instant and takes off towards the small figure crumpled near the bottom of a towering Scots Pine.

With her scarf now tugged down to her neck, she asks in a harsh breath, “Are you alright?”

The girl tries to roll to her side but lets out a rather pathetic moan.

“Okay, easy now.”

She takes a quick visual assessment of her positioning – nothing twisted, nothing noticeably broken – before she eases out the girl’s legs. Now fully on her back, the young player lets out a long breath, her hands resting on her chest as she stares up at the empty canopy above her.

“I’m fine… I think. Just… wind knocked out of me.”

Catherine pulls up onto her knee, staring down at the student.

“No wonder, flying like you just did.”

The girl’s eyes roam across to her, a thin smile on her face, “New broom.”

With a nod, she extends her hand out to the prone player.

“Think you can stand?”

Another jerk of her head and then Catherine’s hauling her up onto her feet. She casts a wary eye upon her, almost expecting a sudden injury to emerge. After a moment, the girl reaches down to grab hold of her forgotten broomstick – a flush creeping across her cheeks that the young professor assumes isn’t from the sharp sting of the wind.

“I… I better get back.”

“As long as you think you can manage.”

She mounts the broom, looking momentarily hesitant before she gives herself a reassuring nod and kicks off.

Catherine watches her go – swaying back and forth through the trees before she dips down over the crumbling castle wall toward the pitch. With a shake of her head, she walks back over to the paddocks and finishes up her rounds.

It just so happens that she’s walking back to the castle at the same time the Gryffindor team is trudging along – likely heading back in an attempt to grab breakfast before classes were due to start.

“The hell are we gonna do?”

A blonde-haired player lingers back alongside a stout boy who strides forward with an air of confidence.

“She just needs more training – one on one.”

“Fat lot of good that’ll do. Are you sure we can’t convince Miles to –”

“That’s a null and void conversation. Don’t even bother.”

Her eyes travel through the group – counting them all off – before she realizes one sole player is missing from the troop. She glances back at the pitch and spots a tiny blur of red still circling the stadium.

As the team heads inside, Catherine pauses near the frozen fountain.

It’s a split-second decision that has her wandering through the snow drifts away from the warmth of the castle.

Standing in the middle of the field, she watches the young girl fly lap after lap – her eyes never straying far from a small glittering winged ball of gold. Only once she’s able to nab hold of it, does she even look down to see the bundled-up witch in the center of the pitch. She swoops down just a foot away from the professor.

“So, you’re the new seeker then.”

The girl’s fingers tighten around her broom’s handle as she gives a quick nod.

“Teller, well, his Mum and Dad weren’t too happy with his last grading report before Christmas and they had Professor Weasley kick him off the team. And no one wanted to try and take on the position – he’s been on for the last five years now, you know. And, well…”

“And here you are?” Catherine surmises.

She nods again.

The young witch stares down at the third-year – spotting a familiar look in her nervous features. A soft smile graces her face as she beckons the girl forward – the two beginning to walk back to the castle together.

“You know… I was Gryffindor’s seeker in my seventh year. Never even played the game before they had me doing laps at try-outs.”

She can feel the sudden gaze at her side, “Really?”

“Mhmm. Plenty of talented players, people who knew every bit of trivia about the game – all the tactics and high-profile people on the National Leagues. Felt like I was a Porlock in a sea of Graphorns.”

Catherine glances down, spotting the curious look on the girl’s face.

“What… what did you do?”

Staring forward, toward the approaching castle doors, she replies, “I put my heart into it. Studied everything I could between classes, and started following the big teams in the papers each week. And practiced. Every free moment I could spare.”

A contemplative look befalls the young student’s features. A frizzled brow and a scrunched nose.

“I don’t know if that’d work for me.”

“Why not?”

With a steadying breath, she finally says, “I know all the moves. I follow the Harpies and the Tornadoes every play. It’s just… when I get out there with the rest of my team, I just…”

Her expression grows distant and a brief moment of understanding crosses Catherine’s mind. At last, they climb the steps to the Bell Tower. But before she can push the door open, the professor pauses.

“You know, as a fellow Gryffindor and an ex-player, I would have every right to offer my… wisdom, should your captain welcome it?”

A smile, slow at first but soon stretched wide in awe, greets her.

“Would you?”

She smiles down at the girl in return.

“I’m sure something can be arranged. Miss…?”

“Parson. Laura Parson, professor.”

Aesop peers up from the cauldrons currently resting under a stasis charm in a secluded corner of the classroom at the sound of a gentle rapping of knuckles against the door. He finds himself fighting to contain a smile as the young woman crosses the room, beaming back at him in return.

Though classes had resumed on the fifth, he had scarcely seen the Beasts professor since her arrival back from her winter holiday in France. There had been passing words in the staff lounge, of course. A curt greeting when they happened to cross paths in the tapestry corridor. But a full conversation had been waiting in the wings ever since that last chaperoning trip to Hogsmeade together in December.

“Hello again, properly,” she smiles as she crosses the flagstones.

He watches as stray snowflakes fall from her hat and the shoulders of her cape, toppling to the floor as they leave a melted trail of droplets all the way from the door to where he stands.

“It has been some time,” he admits in his gruff tone of voice.

“Well, hopefully, what I have here will more than make up for that!”

His eyes flicker down to the bright white of her smile as she licks her chapped lips and unceremoniously deposits her leather bag on his desk. Aesop folds his arms across his chest, peering down at the pouch as she begins to pull two small containers out.

“My fifth-years just sorted these this afternoon. Don’t worry – the Gryffindors collected them while my Ravenclaws handled the actual grinding.”

He doesn’t even attempt to smother his smirk as she easily pokes fun at her own House. Grabbing hold of one of the jars, he holds it up to the candlelight and examines its contents with an assessing dark eye. The Unicorn horn was a fine white powder with barely a blemish to be found within the granules.

“It was quite lucky, actually,” she continues on, unprompted. “I noticed the beginnings of shedding Saturday evening and sure enough, this morning I had three unicorns rubbing against the fencing trying to rid themselves of their own horns. Two weeks early, at that! I just hope the other two hold on long enough for my other fifth-years to get a chance at it as well.”

Sharp gives a hum of acknowledgment as he sets the container down, “My compliments to your teaching skills, Hart.”

That makes the young witch quirk her brow as a roguish smile graces her pale features.

“Oh?”

“Clearly you’ve instructed your students well. Perhaps better than even my own attempts…” he trails off, considering the state of some of his older students under his tutelage and their inability to properly slice, dice, and grind ingredients after several years of instruction.

“Ah, that. Well, I merely explained that part of their grade for this quarter was dependent on how well their potions professor found the quality of their ingredients. That might have done the trick.”

He feels his own brows rise at that.

“I mean,” she begins twisting her fingers together as her blue eyes leave his face to gaze down at the floor.

“Creature handling is usually thought of in such limited terms, but there are so many different aspects to it that I think some of my students forget. Like harvesting byproducts for potions, or rehabilitative work, even healing situations – there’s a whole branch of veterinary work out there. It’s not just all – ”

She flaps her hands out for a moment, trying to tie together her next words as if they were an invisible item just out of reach, “– pet the Puffeskein, play with the Kneazles, and earn an Outstanding. You know what I mean?”

A half-smile graces his lips, “I believe so.”

She stares up at him then with this… unreadable expression on her face. It makes him feel both put on the spot by it and equally lost in the warmth of its intensity.

And then she smooths her hands over her trousers and says, “And on that note, I do actually need to go groom some Kneazles right now.”

Collecting her bag and resettling her powder-blue hat upon her head, Aesop watches as she prepares to leave and he finds some inner part of himself reaching out – a phantom hand trying to grab hold of the invisible strings that lay between them like dust in the sunlight. They had not shared a common space and been able to fill it with familiar conversation in so many weeks that he was reluctant to see her walk out the classroom door just yet.

Just like Mirabel, Abraham, and Dinah, he found himself drawn to her presence and welcomed the warm interactions they shared together. He could not say that for many other members of the faculty. There was just something about her that made him seek out her candor. Finding a smidgen of pride bubbling up in his chest whenever he managed to pull a genuine laugh from her lips.

“I never did thank you.”

That makes her pause mid-step as she slowly twirls back around, her face struck with an air of curiosity.

“For your gift,” he clarifies.

A rather amusing blush crosses her cheeks as she looks toward the adjacent brewing station before she meets his eyes once again.

“I know it probably seemed a bit out of place from what you usually get, or what I assume you usually get.”

He smiles down at her, resting his hands behind his back, “All the more reason I enjoyed it as much as I did.”

A swell of pride swoops through his chest at the smile she bestows upon him. And he finds himself falling down a path of rambling thoughts before he can even blink back to awareness at his surroundings.

“I assure you, Hart, it was a welcome change from the stacks of brewing books and paperweights that are typically sent my way over the holiday. I must admit, I found myself looking through the portraits well past the midnight hour that evening.”

Slowly, she lowers herself onto a stool – swiping her blue pointed hat from her head, her eyes never leaving his – as if in a trance.

“Which was your favorite, if I may ask?”

Aesop ponders this for a moment as he joins her at the empty station – this was their shared free period at the end of the day, there was little more to do now besides grading papers – with his right foot resting on the spindle of the stool and his left foot placed on the ground beside the corner of the station.

In his mind, he can see many of the images from the book in near clarity. A few notable favorites, some less so. But finally, he settles on an answer.

“A Bar at the Folies-Bergère by Manet.”

And then he blinks and he finds himself focusing in on the lazy smile on the woman’s face as she stares up at him with another unreadable thing flickering around in her crystalline blue eyes.

Clearing his throat, he asks, “Out of curiosity, do you have any opinions on the art movement?”

She straightens up, resting her hands on the table as she leans forward with this ringing air of excitement, “Yes, absolutely! While I’m partial to Monet’s Water Lily Pond, I actually favor more of Van Gogh’s work.”

“Really?” he asks, leaning forward as well – drawn in by her enthusiasm.

“Yes, his Starry Night –”

Aesop gives a playful groan, rolling his eyes for the full effect.

“Why does that not surprise me, Hart?”

Her brows pinch together, clearly taken aback, “What?”

“A typical museum-goer could point to a handful of classical renderings. The Mona Lisa, or Girl with a Pearl Earring, or… Liberty Leading the Peoplefor example, and claim it to be their favorite simply by having such a limited range of exposure to the arts.”

She bites the corner of her lip and gives a little roll of her shoulders that makes it seem as though she’s preparing for a battle on an artistic plane. He finds himself even more intrigued.

“Okay, Sharp,” she begins, leveling him with a steely gaze.

“I was about to say my favorite Van Gogh is Starry Night Over the Rhone, even though it’s typically overlooked by the more famous Starry Night painting. I find the subdued colors more appealing, for a start. And his work with the lighting is impeccable: the way he has the stars reflect off the water. And the texture! It practically jumps off the painting to the point where I feel like I could actually touch the waves as they were truly there on the canvas.”

Slowly, a curved smirk rises from his lips as he folds his hands together into a fist on the countertop.

“All right, that’s a marginally reasonable answer. But you can’t deny the fact that Van Gogh wasn’t actually an Impressionist painter.”

With an audible groan, she rakes a hand through her ice-blonde tresses, “At the beginning of his career he was! Almost every Impressionist moved onto the Post-Impressionism movement beside Monet.”

“And if I might say,” she jabs her finger on the table for emphasis. “Impressionism in itself uses color as a way to represent landscape and how light affects it. Post-Impressionism just uses color to convey emotions. You can’t tell me that Over the Rhone is a post-impressionist landscape.”

“And yet, as a whole, it is Monet who is frequently accredited with the first movement. While Van Gogh is solely recognized in the post-movement,” he surmises.

“Actually,” she interrupts. “Manet is the sole founder of the movement. Does Le Déjeuner sur l'herb ring any bells?”

Aesop finds himself momentarily stunned by the graceful way the French title falls from her lips before he grins – pressing forward with another retort. He hadn’t enjoyed a conversation this much in ages.

“Which further shows your inability to accept the fact that your precious painter is not in fact a part of the Impressionism movement itself. Merely inspired by the true artists in Paris. Was it not Van Gogh himself who admitted he was completely unaware of the style until he visited the city in 1886?”

“Well, yes, but –“

“And while one could argue that an artist’s style is capable of changing over time, perhaps it can be said that Van Gogh was never a member of the original movement, merely a user of the muted Dutch palette of the time.”

Hart shakes her head in disbelief, muttering to the table’s surface, Merlin give me strength, before she fixes her gaze on Aesop and starts back up.

“Well, one could say, that Monet became stagnant in his process of painting hazy pastel landscapes while the rest of the artists in the original Impressionism movement moved on with the times and adapted their styles accordingly. Which isn’t to say I don’t enjoy some of Monet’s work, because I do – but the point I’m trying to make is –”

A flicker of fight dies from his lips as he finds his curiosity piqued.

“And which paintings would those be?”

He watches as she exhales through her nose, the frightening height of her argument brought back down to a respectable level for polite conversation – though he almost immediately misses the blaze of determination in her eyes.

“Woman with a Parasol and Bordighera.”

With a quirk of his lip, Aesop adds in an easy, soft sort of tone, “I find myself partial to Van Gogh’s Almond Blossoms and Café Terrace at Night.”

They both stare at each other for a breathless moment before Hart tips over with her wide smile and ringing laugh – one that Aesop finds himself quick to replicate with his own low chuckle.

“So,” she wipes a stray tear from the corner of her eye, her face still flushed with laughter. “What I believe we’re both agreeing to is the fact that we’re capable of enjoying many artists despite their reported in or out status within the Impressionism movement?”

Shaking his head, unable to hide his smile, he says, “I believe so.”

He looks at her then, truly looks at her. At the near-permanent smile on her face, the flicker of amusement dancing in her eyes, and something else. Something he can’t quite put a name to – there, in the depth of her expression when she blinks and looks up at him – her closed smile growing impossibly wider.

“So…” she breathes out, giving a little shake to her head as an errant curl falls across her cheek. “Is your stance firmly settled on just Impressionism, or do you have varying opinions on other eras?”

Aesop bares his teeth in a wolfish grin, “I find Impressionism to be one of my least favorite movements, in all actuality.”

Her eyes bulge and a frown begins to form on her unblemished face.

“Not to say that I don’t enjoy it, obviously,” he makes quick to explain. “But out of several centuries worth of painting, I can hardly claim it to be my absolute favorite, now, can I?”

“Okay then,” she crosses her right leg over her left knee, leaning back to fold her arms over her chest. “Let’s hear it then. Where do your loyalties lie?”

“Baroque has its merits, of course.”

She scoffs, “If you’re interested in a darkened palette and exaggerated movement, I suppose.”

“You find fault with it?” he raises his brow, sensing another well-placed debate brewing in the downturn of her lips.

“Obviously.”

Aesop smirks, folding his own arms across his chest as he stares at her.

“Then, by all means, enlighten me. What era do you find more appealing?”

She seems to mull it over for a moment, as her tongue peeks out to wet her lips before she finally settles on: “Rococo.”

He chuckles, “You’ll argue against the merits of Monet but you find Rococo-style works to be just fine?”

With a shrug of her shoulders, she says, “I prefer the palette, for one. And the more natural movement. Baroque-era styling just feels so… dramatic; heavy. Whereas Rococo brings a more, I don’t know… easy-going sort of feeling. I suppose you’d also be so bold as to say that Classicism holds a special place for you as well?”

“Nat as much, but there are some portraits that I find… welcoming on the eyes.”

Hart gives a little nod, “And your thoughts on the Renaissance era?”

At that, he snorts, “Over-rated.”

“Oh, thank Godric,” she sighs, placing a hand over her heart as if she had expected him to tell her the worst sort of news. “You’re still capable of some common sense, that’s truly a relief to hear.”

Raising a lone brow, he dryly says, “I’m pleased to find that I’ve met your high standards.”

She lets out a short laugh, shaking her head as she says, “Hush. I was just afraid you would sit there and spew some snobbish nonsense to me about how that style is far superior to any other in the entire history of the world of art.”

“Decidedly not.”

She offers him a small smile then, flicking her gaze from his face to her hands on the countertop of the brewing station.

“So… if that’s not a favorite of yours, then what exactly would you say is?”

Aesop stares up at the curved stone arches of the classroom ceiling, pondering the question for just a moment, before he replies.

“Romanticism.”

Catherine blinks; once, then twice. Her mouth forms a curious little o shape before she presses her lips together and asks, “Really?”

“Is that somehow surprising?” he wonders, uncrossing his arms as he stares down at her – trying to place the pieces of the puzzle that was her expression.

“Well, I thought perhaps you would say something more… I don’t know, obscure? Like Tonalism or something of that nature. But, Romanticism, genuinely?”

He hums in return, finding his gaze lost in the dumbfounded look upon the woman’s face.

“Wha– uhm, what artists do you favor?”

“Well,” he lingers on this for a moment before finding the answers rather easily. “Friedrich, J.M.W. Turner, Eugène Delacroix – of course –”

“Of course,” she murmurs along.

He nods, “And, perhaps… John Constable.”

“Oh, his stuff is quite good,” she agrees.

“Indeed.”

They sit there for a moment in the draping silence of the conversation before several thoughts cross through Aesop’s mind. The first of which, he is quick to voice.

“You never said.”

At the lift of her eyebrows, he reiterates.

“Your favorite style.”

“Oh.”

Hart looks away, twisting her fingers together once again. He finds a desire to uncover the reason for the strange response. Leaning forward, offering a warm expression, he teases.

“Come now, Hart. Afraid I’ll tear apart your answer as you did mine?”

She looks up, eyes bright and alert, “No, of course not. It’s just… well, it’s not a common answer.”

He gives a little hum, “Consider me intrigued then.”

Readjusting herself on the stool, he can feel the light brush of the toe of her boot against his left knee – nothing hard, or discomforting. But a gentle press as she bounces her foot in thought.

“Have you ever heard of Ukiyo-e?”

Perhaps he had been expectant of too common an answer, some strange little movement of the American or Eastern European variety. But he has to shake his head in response, “I’m afraid I have not.

“It’s a, uhm, Japanese art style. Usually in the form of printed woodblocks. Two summers back, I was trekking through Imperial Japan, and I happened upon a village in the mountains. This muggle sutler had these blocks displayed out across a cloth sheet on the ground and I was just immediately entranced by them. The color, Aesop. It just pops off the wood. The lines were so crisp, I don’t even know how to properly describe it to you.”

She shakes her head then, giving a little laugh that seemed to stem from some sort of place of embarrassment, though for what reason he’s not sure.

“I actually have one on display, down in my room. It’s a copy, obviously.”

Aesop leans forward, steepling his index fingers together.

“How did your interest in the arts come about?”

Hart lets out a low breath, leaning back on the stool once again. Her gaze grows distant for but a moment before the electric blue of her irises meets his eyes.

“Traveling, in all honesty. Certainly didn’t have the time or funds to go to a museum when I was younger. And obviously being here at the school changed those prospects for me quite a bit as well.”

She absently chews on her lower lip, teleported back to the memories of her youth. And for a moment, Aesop is reminded of the clear and undeniable fact that the girl who was once his student is in fact a fine young woman now. He would have never imagined, nearly a decade back, that he would be sitting here with the new fifth-year having an in-depth conversation about art, of all topics.

“When I was assigned to an encampment in France, at the beginning of my tenure with the Ministry, they placed me with a man – Edmund Hughes.”

Aesop found the name familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it to any particular face in his mind.

“Anyway, we kept busy most of the days we were there. At the time, we were tracking down this aggressive Bretagne Vouivre Dragon that was encroaching far too close to a muggle town. Well, one night, we were stuck dealing with negotiators from the French Ministry who felt they were better equipped to handle the situation, even though the Department had requested our assistance with the matter in the first place. Uh, sorry. Anyway…”

She waves her hand as if to clear the memory from the air.

“Hughes knew we were stuck with our thumbs in our pockets, as it were, for likely the next week or so while bureaucratic dealings went on. Just up and decided – after downing a lovely French port of wine, of course – that we should enjoy the evening on our own terms. He rounded up our little team and we apparated to Place Cachée. Led us straight down to the Louvre.”

Hart gives another little bubble of laughter, “I had never stepped foot in a museum before that night.”

Aesop feels his own heart clench at the admission. Admittedly, his own upbringing had brought about many opportunities – perhaps a few that he hadn’t been completely grateful for at the time. Not necessarily a silver spoon sort of life, but well-off in many senses of the term.

A no-nonsense governess had given him his first introduction to the world of art at the tender age of five. He was well-versed in all the classical wizarding artists: Monsieur DeBlanc, Cetus Barringer, Andorra van Kemp. It was only thanks to his own natural pursuit of knowledge that he became acquainted with the greats of the Muggle world.

While wizards and witches had the astounding ability to create life-like moving portraits, the muggle world was restricted: forced to make a painting capture a single moment, a multitude of emotions. Aesop almost considered that feat more awe-inspiring than that of their wizarding counterparts.

“Have you been to many others since then?” He wonders, his tone softened by his musings.

“A few, if I’m given the chance,” she admits with the crack of a proper smile.

“Over your travels, have you ever found your way to the National Gallery in Trafalgar Square?”

“I’m afraid I have not,” Hart sighs in admittance.

Aesop gives a half-curved smile in return, “You should go: if you find the time to do so. I find it to be an appealing institution dedicated to the arts.”

“Perhaps I should,” she gazes up at him under the flutter of her fair-colored eyelashes.

It was not unusual to find the Beasts and Potions professors walking together for dinner in the Great Hall most nights. In fact, it was a very common occurrence, one that the general populace rarely – if ever – took note of. In the same way, Professors Ronen and Weasley could be seen making the journey together during the lunch period. Or, in the opposite case of Professor Onai and Shah, who avoided each other like a severe case of Dragon Pox.

No, it could be said that the sight of Sharp and Hart walking into the Hall together right after the food graced the tables was nothing to pay much attention to.

But tonight, Catherine noted, several curious eyes followed their path as they breezed past the outer section of the Slytherin table. She only noticed it given the fact that she had looked away from Aesop to laugh in another chastising tone.

Their conversation from that afternoon had continued, nearly non-stop, well into the evening hour. When the final period bell had sounded for the day, they had both made attempts to resume their duties and go their separate ways. Until she made a follow-up comment to something he had said earlier in their little debate, and then they were both drawn back to the brewing station – tucked into yet another conversation.

And it hadn’t let up.

They were well past the point of reasonable small talk or friendly collegial conversation. But neither one of them seemed particularly interested in bringing an end to it. And so, it continued on, all the way to the Great Hall several hours after it had first begun.

“I find quite the inspiration from Delacroix’s printing techniques.”

She snorts, “You would.”

Sharp shoots her an amused look with another hitched eyebrow as they make it to the table, “Meaning…?”

Catherine presses past him as she finds her seat. Aesop pushes in her chair for her after she sits down before he moves to the vacant spot to her left. She stares after him for only a second more.

“Meaning…” she begins, portioning out bits of roasted garlic potatoes and rosemary-scented asparagus onto her plate. “That I find it fitting that you would see greatness in a French printmaker’s work.”

She can feel his curious expression gazing into the side of her face, though she thoroughly ignores it. There’s a bitter-sounding scoff of disbelief. She thinks she can even see the shake of his head – the billowing of his chestnut-colored hair.

“Is that all?”

Finally affording him a look, she continues, “An outdated technique is where you find your muse. You have an interest in older art movements, it’s truly not all that surprising.”

Aesop snorts, “I’m not sure I would consider it to be outdated if one could still find it in use within nearly every newspaper currently in circulation.”

She faces him then, “Printmaking, in itself, is not an outdated technique, Sharp. If it was, I most likely wouldn’t be calling Ukiyo-e a current favorite art movement. But as it is, that is a form of relief printing. Whereas what you’re referring to with Delacroix’s portfolio is lithography – a far older version of printmaking that is far less frequently in use than you’d like to believe it to be.”

With a huff of self-determined breath, she looks at her companion. There she finds the darkness of his eyes staring back at her, though there’s a warmth radiating from them that leaves her feeling less than discontent.

“And the reason you find printmaking – sorry, lithography, so foul is –”

“What I mean to say is,” she sighs, placing her spoon down and leaning towards him, “It’s rather silly that a Frenchman had taken up printmaking techniques when the near entirety of the artists in his country were devoted to oil painting at the time. Now, sketches I could understand. But where was he hoping to advance the realm of lithography?”

Aesop’s lips curve into a slight smirk, giving another shake of his head, and then he picks up his own cutlery once again, “I merely said I found inspiration in those particular works, Hart. Certainly, you can’t find fault in every statement I make.”

At that, she grins.

“I most certainly can, and will, if you keep making such ridiculous statements.”

There’s a lapse in conversation, but it lasts perhaps two bites worth of food more before it continues right back up again.

Her gaze rarely strays from the man next to her, if only for a moment to look away with a laugh spilling from her lips or to give another wry shake of her head. But, she is at least aware of the instant the noise in the hall begins to fade as the students lift themselves from the benches and begin to head toward the corridor once again.

“I believe,” she leans over to say with another tired smile. “That this is a conversation we’ll need to continue another day.”

Sharp seems to agree as he stands up and offers her a hand of help – one which she takes with a grateful look.

“Professor,” he bows his head, his eyes trailing back up to her face – focusing on her own eyes for just a second more – before he takes his leave of her, heading down the stairs and making his way out of the Great Hall.

Catherine watches him go for a moment more before she redirects her attention to the remaining faculty members. A memory of her ongoing lists of things to accomplish before the weekend jolts to the forefront of her mind when she spots Aragon pressing past Satyavati.

“Oh! Headmaster? Could I have a word, sir?”

The older man’s face lights up with curiosity.

It wasn’t a particularly common occurrence for Catherine to seek out candor with the Headmaster, if ever.

“Something I can do for you, Hart?”

Even though she was nearing thirty, standing before any sort of authority figure, like Aragon, still made her body awash with nerves. As if she was about to be on the questioning of a lifetime for some accused thing she had no part in.

“I was wondering, sir, if there were any particular rules in place that would keep an outside source – say… a professor – from assisting one of the Quidditch teams.”

That inquiry clearly takes him back, but it’s a smile that graces his face as he seems to ponder over the question.

“Well…” he drawls. “To the best of my knowledge, there aren’t any rules that keep a non-player from offering assistance to a team. So long as nothing is being done to give an unfair advantage in the form of, say… self-braking brooms or charmed uniform pieces that enable higher aerodynamics, for example. Or, obviously, the use of illegal substances such as Felix Felicis. No, I should think there would be nothing that would keep a professor from offering their help.”

He pauses for a second, giving her a bitten-down look of amusement.

“Any particular reason you asked?”

Catherine can barely contain the smile that wants to shine on her face, but she makes a valiant effort at it.

“Perhaps… sir.”

An appearance of understanding falls across his face and he gives a short nod, “Of course, of course. Send my regards to Mr. Spinnet, yes?”

He then gives her a gentle pat on the shoulder before he departs.

Schooling her features into something resembling a normal expression, she heads down to her quarts with a slight skip to her step. She had a letter to write.

Catherine rouses even earlier that following Friday, keen to finish her work in the classroom before her meeting time with Arthur Spinnet was set to take place. Bundled up in two pairs of trousers and a heavy woolen sweater, she collects her gloves and a warm hat before she ascends the stairs to the courtyard with her broom in tow.

Just as she’s finishing up her rounds with the Porlocks, she hears the familiar warble of voices across the grounds. Grabbing hold of her broom, she wanders over to the Pitch.

Spinnet already has the team working through a series of exercises up above the field when she arrives, while the young man stands contemplatively still in the center of the stadium.

“Merlin’s balls, Bell! My gran can fly smoother than that!” he calls out to a lanky-looking boy sailing by.

With a smile, she approaches the ambitious fifth-year.

“Mr. Spinnet.”

His eyes drop back down to the ground and he quickly uncrosses his arms, extending out a hand, “Professor! Thank you for meeting with me.”

She had shared a series of three notes with the Gryffindor boy over the past week. The first expressing her willingness to aid in any form of advice or training. The second was an agreement for a day that would best suit both parties. Catherine didn’t have a first period to teach today and she was already planning on taking the free hour to massage her sore muscles after whatever hell she went through at this early morning practice.

Taking on a vigil beside the boy, she watches the team up above. Their flying was fine, by all appearances. The two chasers and two beaters flew together in near synchronicity. It was the lone, small-statured player at the rear that seemed most out of place from the rest of them.

“I stand by what I said in my first correspondence, Mr. Spinnet,” she says, keeping her eyes trained on the players overhead. “It’s not just your new Seeker who needs a spot of extra help.”

He snorts, crossing his arms once again.

“I’ll believe it when I see it, Professor. No offense, of course. But this team has been a solid front for the last three years.”

“Complacency in that idea is what is causing your stagnation, Captain. Take my word for the next two hours and we’ll see how everything plays out, as agreed upon. Yes?”

With a jerky nod, the boy shoves his fingers into his mouth and lets out a sharp whistle – alerting the players to make their descent. Once the group of six students lands and takes up a half-circle formation around her, Spinnet gives a vague the floor is yours gesture and backs up to join his team.

“Good morning,” she smiles. “I’m sure your esteemed Captain has informed you all as to why I’m here today. I come offering only advice and wish to impart a bit of time-earned wisdom upon you all. I think we can all agree, we want to see Gryffindor take the Cup this year.”

“Yeah!” two boyish voices holler at once, followed by several nods of enthusiastic agreement.

“All right then,” Catherine claps her hands together, pocketing her broom in the crook of her right elbow. “Let’s see how well you know one another’s positions, yeah?”

Several confused looks are spared her way as she assigns each player a new position. Spinnet, for his part, takes it all in stride – following upon the terms of her agreement to do this little training session with them today.

“You’re a good team – I’ve seen you practice these past few months. But a player who’s only capable of doing their position to perfection isn’t a team player. You need to know the moves of your fellow players. Anticipate how your next action affects them.”

Throwing a beater’s bat to Georgina Wilkes, one of the three chasers, she pairs her off with Cassius Diggory – one of the actual team beaters. Melinda Mason takes on the role of Keeper for Theodore Bell. While Laura Parson switches places with the team captain.

When she tosses the Quaffle into play, the ensuing match is chaotic – to say the least.

While the chasers merely have to score against a single Keeper and have no real outside interference, their technique is severely underpar. But this wasn’t an attempt to watch them fully succeed at another position, Catherine wanted to press home the point that every role on the team mattered. That they needed to work together in harmony if they stood any chance at winning.

Wilkes sends the bludger directly at Bell’s head, while Oscar Clark fumbles the Quaffle and watches it fall for several feet before Parson soars after it.

She lets them go on like this for several minutes – scoring only one singular goal in the process – before she calls them back down to the field.

“Well, that was entirely pointless,” Clark whispers to Bell.

“Was it?” she asks just as dryly.

When she’s met with a mixture of sheepish and questioning looks, she rests back on the handle of her broom.

“Mr. Clark, I would hope you would gain an appreciation for the skill it takes your Chasers to garner to successfully handle a Quaffle. Perhaps, instead of begrudging newcomers to your team, you could take a moment to offer wisdom.”

Referring to the conversation she had been privy to last week when he had been bemoaning his frustrations over the new Seeker to Spinnet, seems to make the boy blanch.

“A well-oiled team knows the intricacy of every team member’s position. If your strongest player is incapable of filling in for another, then what is the point of proclaiming you are the best team in the school?”

Giving them a purposeful look, floating to every player, she continues, “Yes, you succeeded in past years. You had wonderful victories. Don’t let that keep you tethered to mediocrity. I have watched the other teams practice – they all move in cohesion. While I can offer you tips and plays, I can not turn you into a perfect machine. That’ll be up to you to manage. But for now…”

Her eyes roam across the team until they land on Laura Parson.

“I think I agreed to teach your new seeker a move that no one else at this school knows.”

The girl’s expression immediately brightens under the glow of the morning sunrise.

After a beat, she asks, “How many of you follow the international teams?”

Bell slowly raises his hand, “Sure. I went to Sydney to watch the World Cup last year with my Da.”

A few similar nods follow his statement. Catherine gives a knowing smile.

“And outside of the largest sporting event in the game’s history?”

Silence meets her in return and she grins.

“Well, it looks like this might just be a new play for you all. Has anyone here heard of the name Josef Wronski before?”

She spends the next hour introducing Parson to the Polish tactic. It was only introduced into the world of the sport seven or so years back and hadn’t truly taken off in many places outside of its country of origin. Catherine had managed to catch a game when she was passing through the country on her way into the German Empire back in 1897.

It’s a different sort of freedom when she’s flying around the pitch with the team. While her flight times with the Hippogriffs last semester had been a liberating experience, with the wind whipping against her frozen cheeks today, she felt a determined thrill ringing throughout her body. An old sensation buried after graduation. Maybe she could convince Matilda to start up a faculty league.

“That’s it, Laura!” she shouts behind her as the girl gains speed on her. “As far as you can go, come on!”

It was a matter of zigging and zagging across the pitch before taking a sharp dive down to the field – almost to the point of crashing – before you managed to pull your broom up at the last possible second. The intention was to have your opponent crash or become so distracted that they didn’t notice the true location of the snitch.

Parson had been doing beautifully in replicating her moves and as she glanced back at Spinnet, the team captain seemed equally impressed down on the ground.

After touching back down beside him, she instructed the chasers on an old tactic that had worked for her team a decade ago. Apparently, it was one that Spinnet said had fallen out of use over the years and might just prove to be a game-changer against the other houses.

In the end, there’s a group of sweaty, exhausted, but completely exhilarated students who wave their thanks to her as they trudge back through the snow to the castle. Both Parson and Spinnet offer her another few words of gratitude, and the captain gently hints at having another possible training session in the future.

“We’ll see,” is all she says in return – beaming at the feeling of tired muscles and aching bones now plaguing her body. It wasn’t every day the twenty-eight-year-old powered through a full morning of training, after all.

With how many paces she was putting her broom through these past few days, Catherine found herself in Hogsmeade on a blustery Saturday afternoon to purchase a new set of flying gloves. While her Christmas present from Aesop had been a true treat for the winter weather, their grip wasn’t quite what she needed for early morning training sessions with the Gryffindor team. The frost had a nasty way of clinging to the handle of her broom before the sunlight managed to melt away the ice crystals.

The wizarding village was rather emptied out for a Saturday, though she placed the blame on the dismal weather entirely.

While the Christmas season had brought the joy of shopping for friends and loved ones which enticed several people to go out and peruse the local wares, January had no such draw.

In fact, most people would prefer to stay at home near the fire if given the choice.

And she would have too if it wasn’t for the need of new gloves and a particular desire to converse with the tavern boy at the Hog’s Head again.

Though, unfortunately, Aberforth had no amount of news to share with her. A sad fact that was piling up in her private life as well. There had been nothing from any of her contacts and she was trying to place it further from her mind – devoting her attention to classes, Quidditch training sessions, and art debates (of all things).

But the fact was, Catherine was desperate for a new lead in her case. Every new smuggled shipment could be her ticket. But almost all of the major operations on the northern coast of the country had ceased shipping – finding new, hidden, locations most likely to resume their trade.

Which did not bode well for her mission.

“Oh! Professor Hart, are you headed up to the Three Broomsticks as well?”

She whips around at the call of her name over the windy street. There, near Ollivander’s doorstep, stands Mirabel all bundled up in a thick cloak and a knitted pastel scarf. Her nose is as red as a rose petal as she offers up a stiff arm in a sort of wave.

“I wasn’t planning to, no. But I couldn’t say no to a warm Butterbeer right about now,” she smiles as she crosses the street to meet the other woman.

“Honestly, I was thinking just the same,” her words form a billowing stream of frozen breath.

With a nod, she finds her arm looped through the herbology professor’s who quickly leads them both up the road to the tavern in question.

The instant rush of heat once they step through the doors feels strong enough to melt the frost that clings to their outer clothes and hair. With an almost visible sigh of relief, the two women look toward one another before eyeing the vacant table near the roaring fireplace. If ever there was a place to thaw out in front of, it would be there.

For a weekend afternoon, the inn is surprisingly empty. Another thing she’ll blame the weather for. But with ripe pickings and fast service in return, Catherine can’t find much of a reason to complain.

“Helga’s heart,” Mirabel sighs after taking a sip of her steaming drink. “I feel as if I haven’t seen you since last month. Are you usually this terribly busy?”

Catherine gives a laugh as she wipes a bit of frothy foam from her upper lip. She didn’t want the news that she was assisting the Gryffindor team in their training sessions to become common knowledge. So, instead, she comes up with another easy answer.

“No, I’m afraid the Mooncalves have kept me rather busy as of late. I don’t know how they manage to injure themselves so frequently, and yet, here I am every day bandaging up one and forcing a healing draught down another.”

“So, is that why we never see you for breakfast?”

The blonde witch gives a slight shake of her head, resting her elbows upon the wooden tabletop, “That’s all thanks to my morning chores. Even if I have a first-period class, I’m still responsible for getting the creatures sorted out first thing.”

Mirabel gives a warm chuckle, “You sound so similar to myself when I first started on. I’m not sure even Matilda could pull me from the Greenhouses before or after any of my classes. There was always something to be dealt with before my students arrived.”

“I suppose plants and beasts are almost one and the same with the sense that they require a constant form of care.”

The other witch gives a soft hum of agreement.

For a short while, as they work through their mugs of Butterbeer, the two women converse on all matters of topics. From Mirabel’s current fascination with foreign tea blends to Catherine’s assessment of Mr. Macnair and how she believes the boy will surely fail her class.

Tucked into the warm corner of the tavern, the heat radiating off of the crackling fire, the Beasts professor feels truly at ease. Even when Professors Kearney, Weasley, and Kogawa walk in. With a wave of her hand, the three women join their comfy spot in the corner of the room.

“It’s rather brisk out there today, isn’t it?” Matilda comments, rubbing her arms as a sudden chill sends her body into a shiver.

“A good sort of cold though. Good for the lungs,” Kogawa smirks, resting her arm across the back of Catherine’s chair.

“So,” Roslin beams. “What are we gossiping about then?”

Catherine gives a roll of her eyes, though her sense of amusement does not fade, “We were just trying to figure out which of our students will be repeating a year and which will fail out entirely.”

Kogawa snorts, slamming her glass down, “If we’re placing galleons on it, I’d put them all on Mr. Collins. That boy still can’t hold an ounce of control over his broomstick. It’s been almost three years’ worth of remedial classes.”

Matilda, ever the mediator, gives a courteous thin-lipped smile, “Let’s save the betting for the next quidditch game, shall we?”

“Fine then,” the flying instructor sulks, crossing her arms over her chest. “But don’t be surprised when that boy’s held back for another round of third year.”

“Oh, that boy,” Mirabel sighs – rubbing a tired hand over her forehead. “I want so badly for him to take on my help. I’ve offered afternoon sessions and everything. He’s got a thumb as black as they come, I’m afraid. Even the Tentaculas shy away from him. Please tell me he fairs better in your class, Matilda.”

The older witch gives a sigh, followed by the slightest shrug of her shoulders.

“That bad?” Catherine muses, lifting her second mug of Butterbeer to her lips.

“Well,” the Deputy Headmistress smooths out her robes for a moment as if pondering the question with great consideration. “He’s not currently at a Troll if that’s what you mean. He… oh, I really shouldn’t say this, but… he’s quite on the edge of it, as it were.”

Roslin then gives a soft cough, which causes four sets of eyes to peer over at her.

“It’s just, well, if we’re referring to Benjamin Collins, I have him every Thursday as part of the choir. He has a real talent there – quite a natural actually.”

“Hmmm,” Chiyo hums. “Maybe all he needs is a recommendation to the Academy of Dramatic Arts?”

“Not the W.A.D.A, surely?” The Deputy Head says, fully aghast.

“Why not? If he can’t fly, and he can’t care for a plant, and he’s barely passing Transfiguration –”

“Poor sod,” the Beasts professor sighs with a shake of her head as she lifts her mug to her lips once again.

Matilda’s hazel eyes seek her out, almost imploring, “You don’t have him in any of your classes, Catherine?”

“No,” she snorts. “I get the likes of Adrian Macnair – ”

The mention of the seventh-year Slytherin’s name brings about a few curious reactions: pointed disgust, a compassionate grimace, and shock – which certainly said more than words could manage.

“– and Nereus Bulstrode.”

That name also pulls a similar reaction from her colleagues.

Even though she’d been teaching for barely even five months at this point, Catherine was all too aware of the fact that those particular boys were just barely scraping by in her class. No thanks to their own prideful egos that gave them a disturbing boost of assuredness that they knew more on the subject matter than the actual creature expert.

Their behavior had become so abhorrent that she found the need to split them up during the practical lessons. Usually with one sent to muck out a pen and the other sent to handle the feed.

Some people were considered naturals in the field of beasts. Others were more interested in the academic aspects of the class. Those two, however, she couldn’t quite pin down. And that thought kept her frequently on her toes whenever they were around.

Even with students like Mr. Kettleburn, she knew her animals were in safe hands. With Macnair and Bulstrode though… well, that was still to be fully determined.

“Oh, such awful boys,” Roslin frowns, downing a shot of whiskey with not so much as even a grimace.

“Talented,” Weasley placates. “But with wasted whims, perhaps.”

“Trouble’s more like it,” Chiyo mutters.

Catherine nods, tapping her glass against the flying instructor’s, “Here, here.”

“Now, now,” Matilda chides lightly. “It is our role as educators to guide them down a higher path. Not just forsake them to the wolves.”

“Wolves would be a merciful fate,” Chiyo snorts into her ear, causing Catherine to cover her mouth with her hand to avoid openly laughing.

“Matilda,” the music professor laments in a drawn-out whine, her accent coming out in longer grasps as she finishes off a third shot. “Ye can’t exactly fault us in our beliefs when someone like Abraham even finds nothing of promise to say about ‘em.”

“If it came from Aesop, perhaps it’d be more understandable,” Mirabel chimes in.

The young witch feels her brows rise as she quickly butts in, “Why’s that?”

From across the table, the redhead meets her gaze with a rather curious quirk on her lips, “Well, Aesop never speaks too highly of any particular student – even within his own house. It takes a true talent to get him to sing any sort of praise.”

“A certain Hero of Hogwarts, you might say,” Matilda grins none-too-subtly as she sips from her glass.

“Now that I find serious doubt with –” she starts to say.

“Oh no, it’s quite true. It must have been after the well…” Mirabel blinks, clears her throat, and changes her angle of approach. “After your fifth year. I think all of our opinions of you changed quite a bit, Catherine.”

At that, she stares down into the bottom of her mug where a thin layer of amber-colored drink resides.

Her silence must settle a little too heavily over the group because Matilda is quick to clear her throat, “So, what are the going bets for next week’s game? I want to know who’ll be going up against me this round.”

She drowns out the debate over the two teams – Gryffindor and Slytherin, quite the infamous match-up if ever there was one.

Instead, she shuffles the glass between her hands. Letting the warm drops of condensation slip between her fingers as she contemplates the earlier conversation. The title had followed her up until graduation, even trailing a little further on to her job at the Ministry. In fact, it had been some time since she had last heard the name being directed her way.

The name, that silly godawful name that the Prophet had coined twelve years back, had taunted her. She certainly hadn’t felt much like a hero in the aftermath of the repository battle.

Catherine raises her near-empty mug in agreeance when Matilda claims Gryffindor will be victorious, but otherwise keeps to her thoughts for the remainder of the meet-up.

So much has changed since then. Perhaps too much.

From a factory girl to a witch overnight. Destined to fight a war she didn’t know she was signing up for. Taking on a goblin rebellion at fifteen. Was it any wonder her professors looked at her differently after Fig’s memorial? They had been truly oblivious to her… extracurricular activities at the time.

Maybe they just thought she held promise – discovering magic so late on in life and having to work incredibly harder than her peers to catch up to five years worth of studies.

But no. She had just been fooling them all. Taking classes by day, a few supplementary lessons here and there to catch her up to speed, and then there she was taking down poacher encampments and goblin mining facilities by nightfall.

Was that the act of a hero or an act of reckless insanity?

Even after all this time, she’s still not entirely sure.

“We really must do this again,” Mirabel smiles as the five women finally push up from their seats, grabbing hold of their cloaks.

Matilda nods, “This was quite fun, really. Just us girls.”

Catherine hums in agreement as she wraps her blue cloak back around her shoulders. Pulling her chestnut-colored gloves from within her pocket as she braces herself for the bitter wind outside of the tavern’s sanctuary.

The swoop of wind catches her breath as the tip of her broom handle slams into the ground, rocketing her forward into a somersault that leaves her head aching and her bottom even worse off.

“Professor!” someone screams from behind her.

With a quick shake of her head, she brushes her tangled curls from her eyes and peers up at the triumphant smile of the young third-year floating just a few feet above her.

“You pull that off tomorrow, and you’ll be sure to win,” she smiles.

It takes a moment, pushing up onto her left foot before she manages to fully stand upright once again. Oh, there were certain to be bruises come morning.

“Are you all right?” Melinda Mason questions with a clear voice of concern.

Catherine supposes it would be rather unfortunate to be the cause of injury for one of your professors. But she turns and gives the girl a warm smile.

“I promise that I’m quite well, Ms. Mason. I have sustained far more grievous injuries in my time than a flying fumble.”

As Parson dismounts, holding the snitch in her tight grasp, the Beasts professor surveys the team with a pleased eye and a nod of approval.

“I think you’re all more than prepared for the game. But, if I may offer a final parting piece of advice?”

Spinnet nods quick and sure. The young captain had, admittedly, surprised her. She had expected a certain cockiness, perhaps similar to her own team captain back in her seventh year. But this boy was destined for something great in the future, she was sure of it.

“Never underestimate the power of deception.”

When she’s met with a sea of confused looks, she elaborates.

“If you come into the Hall acting like you’re the kings of the game, they’ll double down even harder to get you knocked out of the match. But, if perhaps, a rumor was to be placed around the school… your dismay at the prospects of your new player, or the state of your team without your old seeker? Then their guard will be lowered and you’ll have the higher ground when it comes to the actual game. They won’t know what hit them.”

Sly smirks and secretive glances finalize her words into a proper plan. To be fair, her advice had been intended to bolster the team, but it would also give her and Matilda a bit of advantage with the betting that was to take place in the faculty stands tomorrow.

But the Gryffindor players certainly didn’t need to know that fact.

Her advice clearly met the landed mark she had hoped it would, as when she appears in the Great Hall the following morning for breakfast – passing by the Slytherin table – she notes that the green team is looking particularly smug as they sit together. While the Gryffindor team is dispersed across the length of their table, looking thoroughly annoyed with one another.

Catherine knew it was an act, despite what the rest of the populace would believe.

She had watched the way that they had bonded these past few weeks during their training sessions. Parson had been accepted as part of the team and their synchronicity was almost unparalleled.

“Ah, Hart. What a rarity.”

Offering a smirk toward the potions professor, she takes her seat beside him.

“It would be a shame if I was ever fully predictable.”

She can feel his turned gaze upon the side of her face as she fills up her bowl with porridge and syrup. His black coffee steams in a mug beside her left hand, the aroma of roasted beans filling her senses.

“Would it be right to assume you’ll be attending the match today, or would that be too predictable?” he muses in a rich, gravelly tone of voice.

“No, in this case, it would be completely predictable. And rightfully so. I intend to watch the dismal expression that will crest your face when Gryffindor wins.”

His warm chortle feels like wading through honey.

“Oh, quite the optimist today, aren’t you?”

She hums in return, savoring another spoonful of her warm meal.

“Is it wrong to have pride in one’s house?”

“Maybe not. But if you have any intention of keeping your money purse full, perhaps you’ll avoid the betting pool this time around.”

Catherine lets her gaze fall upon his dark eyes for a moment, as she sighs, “Meaning…?”

Aesop scooches his dish forward, the plate nearly cleared of his breakfast, “Well, if you must know, word travels rather quickly through the castle; even in the dungeons. Though perhaps you don’t hear it all the way out there in your paddocks.”

She blinks, curious to see where this will go.

“The prevailing rumor seems to be that your team has had quite the trouble filling their seeker position after the holidays. In fact, I don’t even think they’re speaking to the poor girl,” at that, he points his chin toward the Gryffindor table where Laura Parson is sitting, dutifully, alone – pushing her eggs around her plate.

Playing the part exceptionally well, actually.

Catherine snorts, returning to her meal, “I never placed much faith in rumors, Sharp.”

“Yes,” he murmurs. “Of that, we’re quite in agreement.”

Their conversation takes a momentary lapse as the sound of owls hooting in the rafters takes their focus. The great birds swoop down over the tables, depositing mail and packages. A large gray owl drops a rolled-up Prophet onto Aesop’s empty plate. Nothing arrives for Catherine, much to her dismay.

She had been hoping today would be the day she would get another tip-off.

Pulling the twine free, she watches as the potions professor unfurls the newspaper. On the front page, a rather large moving image captures her attention – making her lean across the table, shoving her head beside his shoulder, to peer at the article.

SON OF MERLIN KILLER CAPTURED

There, on the front page, the repeating image of the distressed-looking man with his hands tied behind his back with shimmering strings of magic screams on the front steps of a dark shopfront. Beside him stands two stoic-looking Aurors in their work robes and the very familiar face of one of her dearest friends.

“That’s Natty!”

Sharp seems to scrutinize the image for a second more before he looks across the staff table.

“Mudiwa, you might wish to seek out your own copy of the Daily Prophet.”

The seer smiles, waving her hand in dismissal, “Bah, I already know all about that.”

“Of course,” Catherine groans – the woman probably knew about it weeks before it even happened.

“Natsai sent me a letter last night. She wished to keep me from happening upon it myself in the morning edition.”

Oh, well, that was slightly surprising.

“Shall we be expecting the wedding invitations soon then?” the young witch calls out to her.

Mudiwa merely offers her a knowing smile as she resumes drinking her tea.

Aesop offers her a bemused look before the two of them begin to read the article together. He at least has the courtesy to angle it to the right so she can see it without straining too far out of her seat.

“A man has been arrested in Knockturn Alley in connection to a series of killings that have plagued the Great London area for the past year, authorities announced in an interview with the press late Friday evening.

Robert Dryer, 38, was arrested overnight while “out celebrating,” said lead investigator Natsai Onai in an interview with the Daily Prophet with Minister for MagicVenusia Crickerly and Head Auror Simon Hendrick. He was discovered outside of The Golden Thestral pub in an inebriated state where he was heard, by passersby, saying he was going to “carve up every [redacted slur] witch this side of the Channel.”

Dryer is facing several charges in regard to the 47 bodies that have been discovered in the city baring what investigators called his “signature” – a series of dark runes that Dryer burned into all of his victims. The last victim, a Miss Eugenia Drood, 25, was found near the banks of the River Thames, which required the assistance of Obliviators after the local Muggle police force happened upon her branded body.

Aurors confirmed that he is the sole suspect at this time.

During the interview, Investigator Onai revealed that Dryer has lived in London for nearly six years. He has a criminal record, though Aurors did not reveal the details of his past crimes.

According to trustworthy sources, Dryer holds criminal convictions in both Scotland and England for charges such as: performing magic in front of Muggles, improper use of Horklumps, drunkenness in a public venue, and destruction of private property.

Minister Crickerly said that the public will now be able to move on without fear and that public safety is her number one concern after obtaining office.

“Let it be known, to the people of Great Britain, your world is safer now than it was yesterday. When the wizards and witches in our community work together with our law enforcement agencies, anything can be accomplished. The scrum of society will be cleaned off our streets and people will know peace once again.”

Dryer will be facing trial at a later date while he is held in Ministry custody. Head Auror Hendrick said that the Wizengamot is working to determine the charges against him.

Officials are still unsure of the extent of his intentions behind the killings but said his patterns were consistent.”

“Godric’s heart,” Catherine sighs in disbelief as she watches Natty’s stern, but clearly pleased, expression as she watches the other Aurors lug Dryer down the steps, over and over again.

“I’ll be surprised if he’s not sent for the Kiss itself after his trial.”

“Or,” Catherine nods. “If you don’t see one of the victims’ family members trying to enact justice beforehand.”

Aesop gives a sullen hum of agreement, folding the paper in two.

“What horrid business,” she finally settles on, pushing the paper as far away from herself as she can manage.

“But, he’s in custody now. At least tonight the people of London can rest easy.”

“And perhaps receive some justice in a few months’ time,” she adds.

Sharp gives a nod, “Indeed.”

Looking out over the hall once again, Catherine notices the empty seats dispersed across the tables as more and more students head out into the corridor.

“The match should be starting within the hour,” Sharp comments dryly, offering her a pointed look.

The change in conversation washes over her like a cleaning charm, pulling with it the awful images that the article had created in her mind.

Allowing a teasing smile to befall her lips, she looks over at him, “Well then… shall we?”

Sharp stands before she can even scoot her chair back, pulling it away from the table for her as he offers up yet another hand of assistance.

On the way out to the pitch, wrapped in a warm cloak and a fur-lined coat, respectfully, they pass by several students on their way to the stadium. With painted red and gold or silver and green faces, carrying felt flags, and large hand-made banners. She can hear cheers for both teams from large groups of teenagers.

“We are the Lions!”

“Mighty, mighty Lions!”

“We’ll kick your arse in!”

“Better flying Lions!”

“They really could do better than that,” she teases, looking over in Sharp’s direction to gauge his reaction.

The potions professor shakes his head, calling out over the large pack of students, “That’ll be twenty points, Mr. Bartlett, for the use of foul language!”

The boy in question flushes a brilliant shade of red as his friends all tug him in, ragging on him like he’s a triumphant gladiator in the ring and Sharp is nothing more than a maniacal Roman emperor.

“Twenty points, really?” Catherine gently pushes against his right arm. “Are you just trying to start a feud before we even get there?”

Sharp scoffs, glancing down at her, “I don’t recall hearing any Slytherins shouting profanities at the top of their lungs, Hart.”

No, they were more than likely setting up dungbombs in the Gryffindor stands before the match began. Or perhaps enchanting a cloud of rain to follow around certain students. Gryffindors, for their part, were loud and brash when it came to their gloating. Slytherins were far more subdued and tactful about their approach.

The path to the pitch is slick with ice. The recent snowfall masked the dangers, though many students were wise enough to press through the drifts along the sides of the path instead.

Catherine was barely that lucky, as she felt her boot glide across the frozen ground with absolutely no traction. Her heel lifted up and nearly sent her tumbling backward if not for Sharp’s quick hand flying out to catch her arm.

She stares at the blanket of gray sky above her as snowflakes begin to settle across the grounds. Her chest heaves with the exhilaration of almost falling when she looks over at her savior.

He chuckles as he pulls her upright, “Careful.”

She blinks once, twice at him before the embarrassment clouding her vision simmers.

“I do endeavor to be, Sharp.”

“Of course,” he smirks, offering his arm to her once again.

She lets her gloved fingers grip the fabric of his gray coat sleeve before they begin forward. The journey is slow-paced. Not just in thanks to the man’s noted injury, for once. But it doesn’t matter, as only a portion of the stadium is filled out when they arrive at the faculty’s section.

Together, they find a spot to sit in the center of the allotted seating, where a clear divide can be drawn once the other professors join them.

Rubbing her gloves together, Catherine pulls her cloak tight over her shoulders so it can drape across her knees which she presses together as the wind picks up over the valley. Beside her, Sharp radiates off a warm aura of heat that she finds herself leaning into.

They do not speak, as there is nothing further to stumble through. The silence is comfortable, as it usually is between them. And she can sense his gaze when he looks down at her over the bridge of his nose. She can feel the rumble in his body when he clears his throat, or the press of his foot against her own.

Slowly, one by one, familiar faces make their way up the stairs. With the majority of the staff choosing to sit beside Sharp, showing their clear favoritism in the betting pool this time around.

Next to Catherine, Matilda, Mirabel, and Mudiwa find a spot to sit. Maybe it would be more apparent where the outcome of the game was set to lie when the noted seer chose your team. But alas, she watches as the rest of the staff fills up the left side of the wooden benches.

“All right, all right,” Roland beams as he stands on the lowest level of the stands. “Let’s hear the bets, people!”

The blonde witch watches as her colleagues quickly place their easy bets for the match.

“Put me down for 10 galleons, Sterling,” Crestwell grins, leaning back on the bench as he nudges Waterford.

“And eight for me, please.”

Sharp glances down at her, “You still have time to switch sides, Hart.”

She fixes him with a sturdy glare before she calls out, “Forty galleons on Gryffindor!”

“Forty?” Sterling exclaims, furiously writing it down on his pad of paper. “Willing to risk it all today, are you?”

Catherine settles back on her seat with a knowing look at the stadium. She can feel Aesop’s warm breath on her left shoulder as he stares down at her with a scrutinizing eye.

“What do you know?”

With the most innocent of expressions, she looks up at the potions professor.

“Me? Why, nothing more than house pride, Professor.”

Sharp lets out a huff of breath, biting his tongue as he looks away, “That remains to be seen.”

“Mark me down for twenty galleons, Roland, if you would please,” Matilda says in a rush of excitement, looping her arm through the Beasts professor’s.

Perhaps Aragon had let his Deputy Head in on Catherine’s plans to assist the Gryffindor team after all. And what could a true lionheart like Matilda Weasley do if not place down a heavy amount of money on her house’s team?

Mirabel, noticing this, quickly adds twenty-five galleons to the pot and offers a cheeky wink at them both.

The other faculty members, sitting firmly on the Slytherin side of the staff tower, fix the three women with equal looks of bewilderment and – in Sharp’s case especially – suspicion. But Catherine merely holds onto Matilda’s arm as the student announcer settles into place.

“Welcome to the first match of the new year: Slytherin versus Gryffindor!”

Cheers of enthusiastic team pride ring out through the stadium and she can’t help but smile as the wind picks up – sending her blonde locks billowing backward – as fat snowflakes rain down on the pitch.

The dark green robes of the Slytherin team fly out first, in a perfect arrow formation as they glide past their house members down in the lower stands. Beside her, she can barely make out the predictions being laid out by the male professors, though Sharp remains oddly silent. With his arms fixed across his chest, he flexes his fingers as he watches the students slow to an easy glide in the center of the pitch.

What starts out as a dull throb of noise turns into raucous shouts as Gryffindor soars out onto the field in a surprisingly synchronized V-formation with Spinnet leading the charge.

They fly directly over the heads of the Slytherin team – earning more cries of excitement – before they turn into a left-flanked spiral, breezing past the Slytherins in the stands. They turn their heads away in a clear sign of disinterest as they zoom towards the opposite side of the stands where the noise level is at its highest.

Red and gold banners blur together as the student section cries out.

Catherine can’t help but clap in delight, sharing an equally excited look with Matilda who gives a quick shout of encouragement toward the team.

As Kogawa flies out into the center of the pitch – her light-colored robes barely visible against the beginning of a true blizzard – Sharp leans toward her. Lowering his mouth close to her ear so that his words can be heard over the noise.

“What did you do?”

She glances over at him with another doe-eyed blink, “Why, whatever could you mean by that?”

“Mhmm,” he murmurs, eyes trailing back to the start of the match.

The young witch beams when he pulls back, unable to contain her joy.

“And it’s an immediate fight for the Quaffle as Captain Cygnus Black secures the ball! Ooh, that’s quite a hit by Macnair – Gryffindor better watch their backs this match. The Slytherin team will not be holding back this time.”

Catherine can feel her breath catch in her throat as Black soars past, nearing the goalposts. But as the storm picks up, Bell swoops down and kicks the Quaffle away before it can make it through the hoop.

“Yes! Come on!”

“Spinnet’s in possession of the Quaffle now. Can the Gryffindor captain keep a better hold of it than Black? Here come Mason and Wilkes, forming a blockade on either side of their captain. Will Slytherin be able to break it down?”

Warrington and Macnair team up, smacking one of the bludgers at the trio of chasers, but Cassius Diggory flies up at the last moment and sends it right back at the two Slytherin beaters.

“Gryffindor scores! That’s ten points on the board!”

Matilda lets out a whoop of pure thrill at the announcement. Catherine can’t even look away to spy on her fellow colleagues’ faces as the three Gryffindor chasers begin tossing the ball back and forth between each other.

“Tabitha Walsh is on a collision course with Spinnet, and she – yes! She has the Quaffle. Quite the nasty concussion for the Gryffindor captain.”

A line of Slytherins careens down across the lower half of the pitch, avoiding the Gryffindors who were soaring much higher above them. But as they approach the goals, they’re slowly picked off one by one as Wilkes kicks Cygnus Black directly in the stomach – sending the poor boy spiraling into a freefall – with the Quaffle back in her safe grasp.

“And that’s another ten points!”

Blasts of ice and freshly fallen snow are tossed up into wide arcs across the stands as the players fly past – desperate to maintain a hold of the ball for more than a minute. Catherine’s cloak is coated in a thin layer of snow and flakes dangle from her eyelashes as she blinks furiously to see through the blinding white blizzard.

“Yes!” Aesop gives a sharp call, followed by thunderous claps as Slytherin makes their first goal of the game.

She glances over at him, at his newly decorated snow-white beard and hair. The flakes cling to the fur of his coat, though he doesn’t seem to mind as he squints to see through the storm.

“Third-year seeker Laura Parson has spotted the snitch!”

Catherine freezes in her spot as she watches the blur of red robes soar across the stadium at lightning speeds, with the trailing of green not too far behind her. And then, to the gasps of shock from the stadium, she takes an immediate nosedive next to the Slytherin’s central goalpost.

Swirling around the metal pole, she drops to dangerous heights with the Slytherin seeker immediately on her tail.

With a giant whoosh of snow flying up on either side of her, Parson pulls up at the last possible second. Even having a moment to spare as she looks behind her, just in time to see the other seeker slam into the ice-covered ground.

“Marcus Vance is out! And, what’s this? Has Parson lost sight of the snitch?”

An immediate grin of victory crosses Catherine’s face when she realizes that the young seeker had just played the entire stadium, as she leisurely glides past, offering a wave to the Beasts professor in the faculty stands.

“What on Earth –” Matilda begins, staring at her with wide brown eyes.

“That was the Wronski Feint.”

“Oh! How clever!”

“Yes,” Sharp sneers to her left, fixing her with a pointed dark gaze. “Very clever.”

Before she can form a proper retort, the announcer calls out yet another goal for the Gryffindor team.

“That was a close call for Parson! Macnair is not happy that their seeker’s been fooled.”

With bated breath, Catherine watches the back and forth as the two green-robed beaters send bludger after bludger at the Gryffindor team. Determined to strike one of them out of the match entirely. After Parson’s little play, the other team holds absolutely no punches back as the game becomes increasingly bloody.

By Gryffindor’s seventh goal, Spinnet is sporting a blooming purple bruise over his right eye and Wilkes has a massive seeping cut across her cheek. Bell gives a roar as he slams the Quaffle right back into play, repelling yet another attack from the Slytherins.

Warrington goes after the Keeper then, zooming past the rest of the players as he sends the next bludger directly at Bell. It slams into the boy’s helmet, tossing him back into the goal and he nearly slips off his broom.

Dangling by a single hand, Cygnus Black manages to throw the ball through the right-hand post before the Keeper manages to straddle his broom once again – a clear face of annoyance on his features as he claps his hands together, ready for another assault.

“That was a little too close for comfort,” Matilda worries her hands together, watching with a concerned gaze as Spinnet soars past Berle and Walsh – knocking the Quaffle from her hands.

“That’s eighty to twenty! It’s anyone's game now with the snitch still in play. Though how anyone can see it out there in all this mess is a mystery to this announcer!”

Catherine couldn’t agree more as the sky opens up with another torrential downpour of thick snowflakes that nearly whites out the entire pitch. Her body shivers against the bitter sting of the prevailing wind – even under the canopy of the tower. She holds onto Matilda’s arm even tighter as Mason goes careening past – having been hit with a bludger straight to the back.

The girl slams into a neighboring tower, ripping through the outer fabric, before falling several stories down to the ground. Her unconscious form topples out onto the snow-covered pitch. Both her and Matilda stand up then, peering over the edge of the stands with gasps of worry.

“Gryffindor’s now one chaser down, but Spinnet isn’t calling for a substitute! He’s barreling toward Black now with clear intent! Yes, ooh, that’s quite the hit! Another ten points!”

Blainey, down on the ground, bundled up in a thick red coat, levitates the seventh-year girl off the pitch on a stretcher as the match continues on above them.

“Kogawa has called on a foul on Macnair! That’s five points from Slytherin and the Quaffle is back in Wilkes’ possession!”

Blasting through one another, the chasers battle for the ball. The duo of Black and Berle manage to toss Slytherin ahead two more goals, while Diggory and Clark send an onslaught of bludgers at the opposing chasers. Their keeper, Rosier, ducks out of the way to avoid a particularly powerful swing, giving Spinnet another shot at the goal.

“Vance has spotted the snitch!”

Her gaze flies across the pitch just in time to catch the Slytherin seeker soaring after the tiny ball that even her own eyes can’t quite see through the whipping winds of the snowstorm.

Like a shot of lightning, Parson takes off after the boy.

“Come on, come on,” she mutters under her breath, standing up to watch as they travel across the pitch – circling the blue and bronze flag of one of the Ravenclaw towers.

Shoved together, side by side, the two seekers zoom past – sending up an arc of frigid cold winter air. Catherine cranes her neck to follow their path. Up and over the Slytherin goal posts, down into a near nosedive in the center of the pitch. Parson leans forward, her arm extended out.

“Warrington has sent a bludger at the seekers! Did he intend to knock out his own teammate? And there goes Black, soaring after them both – what on Merlin’s magic does he plan to do?”

Vance kicks at Parson’s broom, sending the girl off course for just a minute before she manages to righten herself back. Behind them both, Cygnus Black is flying at breakneck speeds to catch up to the pair.

Pulling her hands together to her lips, Catherine mutters a silent prayer.

Black slams his foot into Parson’s broom, giving her side a shove as well.

“In a never-before-seen move, Captain Cygnus Black has doubled up with the Slytherin seeker to nab the snitch!”

Beside her, Aesop and the rest of the faculty stand, watching as the Gryffindor team throws the Quaffle to the ground and zooms down in an immediate dive formation after the two players in green.

Vance jerks his broom to the left, before making a near 180° turn. Shouts of anger and determination can be heard from the cheers of the student section as Spinnet throws himself off of his broom and tackles Black in midair. Kogawa’s whistle blows, but no one on the pitch pays any heed to it. Diggory slams his bat into Vance’s broom, just as the rest of the Slytherin team joins the fray.

“Fucking hell,” Sharp swears from beside her and it shocks Catherine so much to hear the potions professor properly cuss that she swivels her head around to stare at the man.

He shakes his head in disbelief as Macnair sends a bludger at Wilkes' head, with the poor girl barely being able to twist her broom out of the way, just for the vicious ball to slam into his own teammate’s right arm. Tabitha Walsh gives a howl of pain as she loses grip on the handle of her broom – falling to the pitch as the madness of the other players plays out over the top of her.

Kogawa charges down to the mess – trying to grab hold of arms to pull the students off one another, but she gets kicked back much to the absolutely outraged look on her face.

And, on the other side of the pitch…

“Vance and Parson are in a sprint to the snitch! Not that the rest of their teams have noticed!”

No, in the chaos of the other players trying to bludgeon one another to death, only Spinnet had managed to look up for a second – before Warrington slammed his fist into the captain’s head – to notice the two seekers.

“Yes, yes!” she cries, watching as the two robes of red and green blur together across the spray of blinding white snow.

But Vance slams into Parson’s side and the girl’s grip on her broom slips and she tumbles off the side, over a hundred feet in the air.

Catherine grips Aesop’s arm, slamming a hand over her mouth.

Laura feebly flings her arm out, kicking her legs as she tries to regain control over the broom, but Vance twists to the side – pressing into her once again, and then the seeker falls.

Matilda lets out a cry and Mirabel gasps as they watch the girl, with one hand still on her broom, fall for several feet.

The stadium grows silent as she careens to the ground just before she manages to righten the handle and twist her body in such a way that she straddles the broom once again.

Followed by many cheers from the Gryffindor stands, Catherine finally feels like she can let out a single breath of relief.

Parson flies down, managing to surpass Vance who is still several feet above her, reaching her hand out just in time to nab something from the air!

“After her almost death plummet, Parson has caught the snitch! Gryffindor wins, 270 points to Slytherin’s 65!”

Matilda immediately grabs her arm, pulling her off of Sharp, as she hugs the younger professor with nothing short of pure happiness.

Across the stadium, cheers of joy ring out. With the announcement, the scuffle on the pitch finally comes to an end with the majority of the players looking far worse than a normal game would cause. Kogawa has both Spinnet and Black by the arms, tugging them down to the ground before unceremoniously dragging them off the pitch with cries of discomfort.

But Catherine can’t stop smiling as Parson does a quick lap around the pitch, holding the snitch up like a trophy. When she comes past the staff’s tower, she does a little bow to the Beasts professor – which Catherine gives right back to her in return.

“So, you’re to thank for their sudden abilities,” Sharp muses in a thin voice as he peers down at her.

“Well, as far as the official rule book goes, there’s currently nothing in place to stop a professor from aiding a team. Didn’t you know?” she gives him a wink before she turns back around to Matilda to give a little squeal of delight.

In the end, Sterling dismally hands the three women forty-seven galleons, each. She finds it a little bit funny that Sharp gives her a bemused smirk as she pockets her winnings, but he says nothing further to her.

Together, Catherine and Matilda walk arm-in-arm back to the castle, following the roaring cheers from the crowd of Gryffindor students who swarm the victorious and bloody team.

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

[intothewickedwood]

End of Year Quezzies

Happy New Year! I think it would be fun to reflect on highlights from last year, especially in regards to fandom. This is a compilation of questions inspired by various ask games x x

Top 5 songs you listened to for the first time last year?

1.Out of the Dark (Monster High)

2.Playing His Game (Death Note: The Musical)

3.Stalemate (Death Note: The Musical)

4.Where Can I Run? (Adamandi)

5.Me, Myself and I (Adamandi)

Top 5 Songs released last year?

1.Reason We've Got Magic from (Monster High 2)

2.Not How Our Story Goes (Monster High 2)

3.You Don't Know (Monster High 2)

4.Dirty Girl (Nerdy Prudes Must Die)

5.Nerdy Prudes Must Die (Nerdy Prudes Must Die)

Album released last year?

Nerdy Prudes Must Die (Original StarKid Cast Recording) by Team Starkid

Musical artist / group of the year?

Starkid!

Favorite musical artist / group you started listening to this year?

Melliot's musicals!

Movie watched for the first time last year?

Stay (2017)

Movie released last year?

Monster High 2!

TV show of the year?

Legacies

TV Show released last year?

Wolf Pack

Most memorable episode of a show last year?

3x08 Long Time, No See from Legacies was one I rewatched a few times as I loved it so much

Top 5 musicals watched this year?

1.We Are The Tigers

2.VHS Christmas Carols

3.Nerdy Prudes Must Die

4. Adamandi

5. Death Note: The Musical

Game of the year?

Sims 4: Horse Ranch

Character of the year?

Lizzie Saltzman! (Legacies)

Top 5 new favorite characters last year?

1.Draculaura (Monster High)

2.Vincent Aurelius Lin (Adamandi)

3.Quincy Cynthius Martin (Adamandi)

4.Claire (Stay 2017)

5.Tabby Haworthe (Pretty Little Liars: Original Sin)

Ship of the year?

Cairo x Riley (We Are The Tigers) and Mizzie (Legacies). I can't choose! Also I was this year years old when I found out my long-time otp Mizzie were canon endgame! Still screaming over that!!

Top 5 new ships last year?

1.Dracudeen (Monster High)

2.Quincent (Adamandi)

3.Claire x William (Stay 2017)

4.Holy Ghost (Nerdy Prudes Must Die)

5.Finsie (Legacies)

Best month for you this year?

Probably December. I love the holiday season!

Something you want to do again next year?

Go to the cinema more! I think I went only once this year. Would love to go to the theatre too! It's been a while!

How was your birthday last year?

It went pretty well. I just chilled at home and watched my favourite musicals.

Favorite book you read last year?

Fraternity by Andy Mientus was amazing! A real page turner! One of the best, most engaging books I've read.

What was the most delicious meal you enjoyed last year?

I really wanna get into reading Ella Enchanted. I've heard good things!

What’s something you learned this year?

All the advantages of foot massages! And that keeping an 'Affirmation Board' on notion is an extreme help. I use gallery view and I put gifs and positive quotes from my favourite media and characters to look at when I'm having a bad day. I also put techniques for coping that include pressure points, breathing techniques and tips for dealing with my sensory issues, sometimes paired with a gif of a scene that reminds me of it. Wish I'd started on it years ago but it's better late!

Favorite place you visited this year?

Just the town nearest mine. It's my favourite town!

What was the most impactful life lesson you learned?

Copy & Pasted from my Affirmation Board: "There will never not be something wrong that upsets you. Perfection is a myth. Happiness is focussing on the good despite the sadness, guilt & shame that always bubble beneath. Concentrating on, replaying or having negative feelings about what hurts won’t solve the problem or make it go away. It’s ok to let it go & not punish yourself." - Quote By Me xD. I like to give myself the illusion of control over thoughts lol but looking at this has been the most helpful thing on my affirmation board for me.

[benedettabeby]

Ziva returned ✨home✨ around Xmas time. I like to think things with Tony were alright but maybe a little ankward at the beginning. So I have this headcanon that on New year's,at midnight, Tony took Ziva by surprise and kissed her(the first kiss after at least Cairo)

Tali and Senior (who had to be prepared about Ziva not being dead,before coming for the holidays 😂) behind them cheering

[worldtouradvicetravel]

CAIRO NEW YEAR HOLIDAYS

CAIRO NEW YEAR HOLIDAYS

Explore their glorious monuments located in the various Egyptian cities as our packages cover all the archaeological destinations in Egypt, moreover with our CAIRO NEW YEAR HOLIDAYS

Cairo New Year Holidays,Get amused by visiting the great Giza Pyramids which are located at Giza Plateau and considered one of the most magnificent landmarks in Egypt. It has been estimated that these pyramids were constructed as tombs for the kings; Cheops, Chephren and Mykerinus, experience a joyful tour to the Egyptian Museum where you will get amazed by the astonishing collections of Ancient Egyptian artifacts as the museum includes about 120.000 monuments of 5000 years of civilization. Discover the best of Cairo and visit the religious sightseeing in Cairo.

If you want to increase your knowledge about Egypt, Cairo Tours in New Year,  stands as your gateway to the city of treasures, so let our expert guides help you to discover the charm and the majestic beauty of Cairo magical city, Marvelous Cairo, visiting Pyramids of Giza, the Egyptian Museum in Cairo Tours and more.

World Tour Advice offers you New Year Package in Cairo, spend your New Year Holidays in Cairo Between Historical sightseeing and funny tours in the New Year

Itinerary

Day 1: Arrival in Cairo Upon your arrival at Cairo International airport,world tour advice tour Representative will meet  & assist you, then direct transfer to your hotel which will be located in the western part of Cairo ( Giza ), check-in, Overnight in Cairo

Day 2: Saqqara - Dahshour Tours Enjoy your breakfast in your hotel in Cairo, meet your private professional English speaking tour guide, start guided tours to visit the most ancient pyramids in all over Egypt & in all the world, It is the step pyramid which is the first pyramid built in Egypt , It is located in Saqqara area and carry its name ( Saqqara pyramid ) , Saqqara  tour includes visiting the step pyramid and one Mastaba ( Kajemni ) but if you need to add more mastabas such as ( Mereruka ) or the Serapium , there are other additional tickets, leave Saqqara go to visit the bent pyramid  & the Red pyramid in Dahshur , Dahshur is a very nice place that unfortunately not many travel agencies organize tours to visit it because the area was closed for very long time , and it was needed a special permission to visit  it, After visiting these Ancient pyramids of about 5000 years ago, you will visit a papyrus institute, then lunch, back to hotel , have a rest, at night our tour Rep will come back to you to take you to have a traditional dinner on the Nile on one of the best Nile cruises in Cairo, you will enjoy about 2 hours sailing on the Nile in Cairo , enjoy your dinner & the musical traditional show, Tanoura dance & the belly dance, then transfer back to your hotel. Overnight in Cairo

Day 3: Cairo City Tour Enjoy your breakfast before meeting your tour guide, because this morning will be different, your tour guide will take you on to walk tour in Tahrir square to see one of the most famous icons & symbols of freedom & revolution, then drive to Ibn Tolun mosque, visit the mosque which is the eldest mosque in Egypt, then drive to the Islamic Cairo to visit Khan Al Khalili market, one of the most famous markets in all Middle East, Enjoy your tea or coffee in its old traditional coffee shops, have a lunch of your choice in the open area ( the food court ) where you will find American, Lebanese, Egyptian & Chinese food. back to the hotel, Overnight in Cairo

Day 4:  Pyramids & Museum Tour Enjoy your breakfast, meet your tour guide, and go on a cultural tour to visit the Egyptian museum in Cairo, where You will see different treasures, the most important one is the treasure of King Tut Ankh Amon, then tour to Giza pyramids where You will see the great pyramid of Cheops, which is one of the 7 old wonders of the Ancient world and the only one which remains in existence, proceed tour to the sphinx, valley temple, lunch meal, back to hotel in Cairo. Overnight in Cairo

Day 5: Departure Enjoy your breakfast, and free time for the swimming pool in the hotel, check out at 11:30 AM or before depending on your flight time and transfer to Cairo International airport to fly home

Included

4 nights in Cairo with breakfast 

Meeting & assistance service in Cairo airport

A ll transfers from airport to hotel & hotel airport as tour itinerary 

All transfers during the tours by modern private A/C

All entrance fees to the mentioned touristic sites as in itinerary

Tour guide during the tours

Lunch meals as itinerary

Mineral water during the tour

All the  travel package taxes

Excluded

International flight

Optional tours

Tipping Kitty

Egypt Visa

For more info

·         amanywaw@gmail.com

·         Website

·         https://www.worldtouradvice.com/

·         Mobile and what’s App:

·         002 01090023837

[mariammohamed21]

COOPERATION BETWEEN South Sinai Governor, Korean Amb.

CAIRO - June 26, 2024: South Sinai Governor Major General Dr. Khaled Fouda received Ambassador Kim Jong-hyun, the South Korean ambassador to Cairo, his wife, and the delegation accompanying him in his office in Sharm El-Sheikh on Wednesday to discuss strengthening the mechanisms of joint cooperation between the South Sinai Governorate and South Korea. book your tour through Egypt tours to see the magnificent of Egypt.

The Governor of South Sinai emphasized the depth of contact between Egypt in general, South Sinai in particular, and South Korea in several aspects, including tourism, and expressed hope that more tourist delegations will visit South Sinai's tourist cities in the near future. spend your vacation in Egypt by booking Egypt travel package with your family.

For his part, the ambassador expressed his delight at his first meeting with South Sinai's governor, appreciating the pleasant encounter and friendly welcome. He emphasized that the Egyptian tourist destination in general, and Sharm El-Sheikh in particular, is a potential destination for Korean travelers due to its diversified and distinct tourist and archeological components. Visit Egypt at Movenpick MS Royal Lily Christmas Nile Cruise to see the Nile at night.

The South Korean envoy also lauded Egypt's revival and successes in all spheres under President Abdel Fattah El-Sisi, which have resulted in the implementation of a huge number of massive projects. visit EGYPT at 5 Days Cairo and Alexandria Xmas Tour to see the beauty of Alexandria.

The South Koren expressed the effort witnessed by all the cities of South Sinai, provided to citizens, as well as development in the field of tourism infrastructure, especially in the cities of Sharm El-Sheikh, Dahab, St. Catherine, and Taba, you can visit these countries by booking at 6 Days Cairo, Luxor, and Aswan During Christmas to enjoy your holiday.

The governor highlighted his wish to sign a twinning protocol between Sharm El Sheikh and one of South Korea's equivalent tourist cities to promote tourism and collaboration in the domains of culture, health, sports, and tourism. enjoy your vacation at 3 Days Cairo Short Break During Christmas to feel the Christmas vibes.

The Korean ambassador voiced his enthusiastic support for the pact and assured that the South Sinai governorate and the embassy will conduct a collaborative study of the protocol's wording before setting a date for its official signing. explore more at 7 Days Cairo and Christmas Nile Cruise with best prices and quality.

The South Sinai governor invited the South Korean ambassador, his wife, and the delegation accompanying him to visit a number of tourist attractions in Sharm El-Sheikh, including the Sharm El-Sheikh Museum, the Cathedral of the Heavens, the Companions Mosque, and the old market, to promote Sharm El-Sheikh. make your christmas different at EGYPT CHRISTMAS TOURS to feel the vibes.

@cairo-top-tours

[glorioussongnerd]

Egypt Christmas Tours 2023 | The Best Egypt New Year Tours

Visit The land of the pharaohs during Egypt luxury Christmas and new year vacation packages and spend the new year Eve on the Nile

@cairo-top-tours

[travelegyptinstylewithme]

Egypt’s Tourism Ministry Launch ‘Experience Egypt’ Campaign that grows every day

Egypt's Ministry of Tourism has unveiled its new campaign, "Experience Egypt," aimed at highlighting the country as a premier tourist destination. The campaign is geared towards international visitors seeking unique cultural experiences during their Egypt Vacations.

The Minister of Tourism has proclaimed that this is a remarkable period for Egypt. An increasing amount of holidaymakers are arriving in our nation. Our mission with this fresh campaign is to motivate them to take pleasure in all that Egypt has to supply - from its ancient culture and history to its beautiful scenery and inhabitants.

The plan includes developing new attractions for tourists, such as museums and theaters. Moreover, it has a press conference, an exhibition of Egyptian tourism products and services, and contains videos and photographs of Egypt's various attractions, including pyramids and beaches. Also, the website provides information on how to obtain visas and other Egypt travel tips for visitors. All those and more!

Travel Tips to Egypt for planning and on the go

Tourism in Egypt is bound by the seasons and Egypt's high season never ends! Book now your spot and start your package with sightseeing tours in Cairo. You will take advantage of visiting Old Cairo including the most beautiful mosques and churches offering a unique religious community that you would not probably witness elsewhere. You can also have fascinating Giza Pyramids excursions and spend exceptional time on the Egyptian museum tour to discover historical artifacts from different periods in Egypt. Take a day out of the city and spend fantastic Alexandria tours from Cairo for one day or more if you prefer. After that, plan your visit to Upper Egypt, where ancient Egypt flourished with many Luxor excursions and Aswan tours in between.

For an Easter break that will make your Instagram feed explode, come and reserve any Egypt trips and learn more about Sham El-Nessim which marks the beginning of spring in Egypt. Though its date is associated with Christianity, the holiday is celebrated by Egyptians of all faiths, so it's considered a national rather than a religious festival. And you can celebrate it on Egypt Easter Holidays.

With the Easter holiday coming up, there are many Egypt travel packages available that take you to all the wonderful sites that Egypt has! and they're all fun! You'll see some amazing sites and learn about Egyptian history, too.

Get ready for an unforgettable Easter holiday in Cairo and take a Nile cruise in Upper Egypt with this 8 days tour in Easter to Cairo, Luxor, Edfu, Kom Ombo, and Aswan. You'll have plenty of time to explore this beautiful city before setting out on an epic Nile cruise that will take you through Egypt's history and culture like never before. As Cairo and Luxor are two of Egypt's most popular tourist destinations and have the greatest landmarks in Egypt, We suggest you try 4 days Easter tour Package to Luxor from Cairo if you're planning a trip to Egypt during this year's Easter break and want to visit Cairo's main sights then fly to Luxor to one day tour. Or stay overnight in Luxor through 5 day Cairo and Luxor Easter tour package to visit all the attractions you want to see and explore there! If you're looking for a relaxing Easter break in Egypt, then this 5 day package in Easter holiday to Cairo and Alexandria is perfect for you. This trip will take you to the most famous cities in Egypt. You will start your tour from Cairo and visit the pyramids at Giza, then you will go to Alexandria where you can enjoy the city’s rich history, culture, cuisine, and shopping opportunities. Cairo, the capital city, has so much to offer! So, spend 4 days Easter holiday in Cairo to be able to enjoy all the city has to offer. You'll be able to see the Pyramids of Giza as well as other ancient monuments and temples. If you'd like to spend some time outdoors, head over to one of the many gardens or parks around town and grab some lunch at one of its many restaurants before heading back home. If you're looking for a short break, you can find 3 days Cairo short break during Easter by exploring most of the major sights in Cairo.

The white desert is a must-see destination in Egypt. The landscape is unlike anything you've ever seen before—almost as if you're walking on clouds! So, take Cairo and White desert Easter tours —it's a great way to experience Egypt in a short amount of time. To experience everything Egypt has to offer during the easter holiday, this Easter Travel Package to Egypt is for you. You'll start in Cairo and visit the most famous sights in the city, including the Pyramids of Giza, the Egyptian Museum, and the Citadel. Then you'll take a Nile cruise from Aswan to Luxor. You'll enjoy 3 days at Sharm El Sheikh before heading back to Cairo on day 12. Take an immersive 12 day tour through Egypt. Cairo, the Nile, and Hurghada Easter tour packages are popular destinations for the Easter holidays. You'll start off in Cairo, where you can get a taste of Egyptian culture and history at the Giza pyramids and the Sphinx. Then head to Alexandria and check out the Alexander Column before taking a cruise along the Nile River. In Hurghada, you can explore coral reefs and enjoy some swimming time at an all-inclusive resort. This 10 days Egypt Easter tour package to Cairo, Alexandria, Luxor, and Aswan with Abu Simble tour is perfect for first-time visitors or veteran travelers who want to see everything Egypt has to offer from ancient ruins to modern amenities. Here is another 10 days Egypt Easter package that will take you to Cairo, Luxor, and Aswan, where you can explore the Pyramids of Giza, visit the Valley of the Kings and Queen Hatshepsut's Temple at Deir el-Bahri, see the Colossi of Memnon in Thebes, and much more.

Egypt's high season lasts all year and we've got you covered for spring! book your trip today!

[lailaessam2910]

One of the most amazing Egypt Travel Packages that you can enjoy in Egypt is Egypt classic tours which is recommended for family and friends packages. Egypt is also famous for its Egypt Christmas tours which are suitable to spend unforgettable new year tours which are as incredible as Egypt easter tours because Egypt appreciates the celebrations and pleasure time. to enjoy the historical attractions in Egypt you can enjoy one of Egypt's luxury tours which has the best historical tour and the most important archaeological sites in Egypt that you can also visit through one of Egypt's cheap budget tours.

8 Days Cairo and The Nile by air during Easter: you will be able to visit Cairo landmarks and go to Luxor by air and see the famous and glorious temples built by the Egyptians while sailing on board the Nile cruise in Aswan. Easter tour package to Luxor from Cairo: a great way to spend easter from Cairo to Luxor and have memorable moments as the sun is shining and the temperature is rising and there is no better way to celebrate easter. 7 Days Cairo and Sharm EL-Sheikh Easter tours: that will be the time to discover the greatness of the Giza pyramids, the Egyptian museum, the optic churches, and Islamic Cairo then you will fly to Sharm el-sheik to enjoy this incredible city while relaxing on its beautiful beaches. 5 Days Cairo and Alexandria holiday package during Easter: you will visit the fascinating Cairo attractions then will take a day trip to discover the Greco-roman city of Alexandria and enjoy the Mediterranean sea. 4 Days Cairo short break during Easter: During 4 days you can explore Cairo and visit its historical places such as the Giza pyramids, the Egyptian museum, and Coptic and Islamic Cairo. 12 Days Egypt Easter vacation: you will spend a nice vacation discovering Cairo attractions then will take a luxurious Nile cruise to Luxor and finally relax on the beautiful beaches in Sharm el-sheikh.  12 Cairo, The Nile, and Hurghada during Easter: First you will discover Cairo and Alexandria then see Luxor's most significant world's open-air museums, and finally, relax on the red sea shore of Hurghada. 10 Days Egypt Easter tour package: this tour is perfect to spend your easter week discovering Cairo attractions before heading to Luxor and Aswan to explore the Nile valley. 10 Days Egypt Easter package: you will be able to explore Cairo attractions, Alexandria, and AL-Alamein before traveling to Luxor and Aswan. 11 Days Egypt Easter tours 2022: you will enjoy your time on this tour while visiting the Giza pyramids then head to Bahariya oasis to visit the white and black desert before heading to Luxor and Aswan. Ms. Mayfair Nile Cruise during Easter 2022: experience sailing in Egypt which is an opportunity to see and explore the sights of Luxor and Aswan. 4 Days Movenpick Royal Lily Nile Cruise during Easter: if you are interested in all about the Egyptian civilization you will have an amazing 4 days on board the Movenpick royal lily Nile cruise. 6 Days Cairo, Luxor, and Aswan during Easter: you will explore the best sights in Cairo, Luxor, and Aswan during 6 amazing days in Egypt during easter. 5 Days Cairo and Luxor Easter tour package: this tour offers you a fabulous trip to the magnificent temples in Luxor after touring the pyramids of Giza and Cairo's most famous attractions. 9 Days Easter holidays in Egypt: it's an easter vacation where you will visit the pyramids of Giza, the Egyptian museum and the most famous Cairo attractions then head to Luxor and Aswan before driving to Hurghada. Cairo and White Desert Easter tours: this tour will take you to the western desert's secret beauty. the white dessert and Bahariya oasis are all included. Ms. Semiramis II Easter Nile Cruise: you will see the most important monuments in Luxor and Aswan aboard a 5-star luxury Nile cruise from Luxor to Aswan. Ms. Darakum Easter Nile Cruise: you will see the most exceptional monuments in Luxor and Aswan aboard a 5-star luxury Nile cruise from Luxor to Aswan.

@cairo-top-tours

@sohilaesam

@hagerkamal

@travelegyptinstylewithme

[janatours]

Christmas tours packages 2024-2025

 Christmas tours packages 2025 are a great option for anyone looking to get away from the stresses of everyday life and take a break with family and friends. These packages offer the perfect opportunity to explore new places, experience different cultures, and make lasting memories.

  During Best Xmas Vacation in Egypt , Egypt offers a unique blend of historical and cultural attractions. Visitors can explore the iconic Pyramids of Giza and the Sphinx, or take a cruise along the Nile River to see ancient temples such as Karnak and Luxor. Additionally, the bustling markets of Cairo and the serene beaches of the Red Sea provide diverse experiences for holiday travelers.

Egypt offers a variety of packages to suit all budgets.  the Best New Year Travel Packages in Egypt  2024-2025, These packages include flight tickets, hotel accommodation, tours, and other activities. They are the perfect way to explore Egypt and its many attractions.

 Package for a 5-Day Egypt Christmas Tour includes a visit to the iconic Pyramids of Giza and the Sphinx, a guided exploration of the Egyptian Museum in Cairo, and a cruise along the Nile River. Travelers will also have the opportunity to explore the ancient temples of Luxor and Karnak, as well as the Valley of the Kings.

Pyramids and Christmas Nile Cruise by Train  The tour also includes a visit to the Valley of the Kings and the Temple of Karnak. It also provides an opportunity to explore the ancient cities of Luxor and Aswan. The tour concludes with a relaxing Nile cruise.

 5 Days Nile Cruise over Christmas to Aswan and Luxor You'll visit the magnificent temples of Karnak and Luxor, where you can explore ancient Egyptian architecture and art. The cruise also includes a stop at the Valley of the Kings, home to the tombs of pharaohs, and a visit to the impressive Philae Temple in Aswan. Additionally, you'll have the opportunity to see the breathtaking scenery of the Nile River as you sail between these historic sites.

Explore the ancient wonders of Egypt with visits to the iconic Pyramids of Giza and the Sphinx via our Package for a 5-Day Egypt Christmas Tour Journey to the historic city of Luxor to see the Karnak and Luxor Temples, as well as the Valley of the Kings. The tour also includes a relaxing Nile River cruise, allowing you to experience Egypt's breathtaking landscapes and vibrant culture.

Aswan and Luxor are two of Egypt's most culturally significant cities, known for their rich history and ancient monuments. 5 Days Nile Cruise over Christmas to Aswan and Luxor  Aswan is famous for its archaeological sites, such as the Philae Temple and the Unfinished Obelisk, showcasing the grandeur of ancient Egyptian civilization. Luxor, often referred to as the world's greatest open-air museum, is home to the Valley of the Kings and the Karnak Temple, offering a glimpse into the pharaohs' opulent past.

 Cairo and Sharm El-Sheikh tour packages are among the most popular in Egypt. These tours offer a unique insight into the history and culture of Egypt. They also include activities such as archaeological sites, shopping, and swimming.

Enjoy a variety of activities such as shopping, sightseeing, and exploring the ancient city of Cairo. Relax and unwind on the beautiful beaches of the Red Sea via  The Best Christmas Break in Egypt  2024-2025 Take in the stunning views from the top of the Great Pyramid of Giza.

 15-Day Egypt at Christmas & New Year Holiday allow you to enjoy the stunning ancient monuments of Egypt, such as the Pyramids of Giza and the temples of Luxor, during a festive time of year. You can also experience traditional Egyptian celebrations and cuisine, adding a unique cultural element to your holiday experience.

Cairo and Hurghada Xmas Tour Package includes a visit to the Great Pyramids of Giza, the Sphinx, and the Egyptian Museum in Cairo. In Hurghada, you can enjoy snorkeling in the Red Sea and relaxing on beautiful sandy beaches.

Egypt and Jordan Christmas  Tours 2025 offer a unique opportunity to explore ancient historical sites, vibrant markets, and stunning natural landscapes. Experience the magic of the holiday season in these fascinating destinations with expert guides leading the way.

Egypt Christmas Holidays  in Egypt 20254-2025 are a festive time filled with unique traditions and celebrations. From attending midnight mass to enjoying special holiday meals with loved ones, Christmas in Egypt is a time of joy and togetherness.

One of our   Egypt Christmas Tours  

Christmas In Egypt & Nile Cruise

Book unconventional Christmas in Egypt &Nile Cruise, Enjoy Egypt Nile Cruise Tours on Christmas, Exploring Egypt’s legendary city, Cairo. See the magnificent Pyramids of Giza and the Egyptian then a museum, Sail on board Nile Cruise to scout the most famous attractions between Luxor and Aswan. This is an ideal way to explore the country’s ancient history and culture, as well as the stunning natural beauty of the Nile River. On a cruise, travelers can enjoy the best of both worlds: relaxing on the deck, taking in the views, and exploring the area’s many archaeological sites and monuments. With Jana Tours, travelers can Expect A Truly Memorable Experience with Luxury accommodations, delicious cuisine, and personalized service. Egypt, Christmas Nile Cruise allows you To Enjoy The Best Christmas in Egypt.

Day 1 Cairo Tours

Upon arrival at Cairo airport, you will find our Delegate waiting for you with a sign with your name to start half day tour visiting the Old part of Cairo Islamic and Coptic Cairo the Hanging church, Amr Ibn El Aas Mosque the first mosque built in Egypt and Africa, then visit Ben Ezra Synagogue after that visit Cairo Citadel and the famous Alabaster mosque of Mohamed Ali then transfer to the hotel and overnight.

Day 2Cairo To Aswan 

Pick up from the hotel early morning and transfer to Cairo airport to take the domestic flight to Aswan, arrive in Aswan and meet our guide and start a full-day tour to visit the Philae temple, Aswan High dam, and the unfinished obelisk then transfer to the cruise ship for the embarkation, evening time free time they can walk at the famous Aswan bazaar then transfer to the cruise ship and overnight.

Day 3 Komombo Temple 

Pick up early morning and follow the convoy to Abu Simbel,(optional) arrive in Abu Simbel and visit the great temple of King Ramses II and the small temple of his beloved queen Nefertiti then transfer back to Aswan, arrive in Aswan and transfer to the cruise ship, after lunch the cruise started to sail toward Kom Ombo, reach Kom Ombo and visit the temple, the cruise sail again toward Edfu, Reach Edfu and overnight in Edfu.

Day 4 Edfu Temple 

Pick up from the cruise ship and visit the Edfu temple of God Horus then back to the cruise ship, sail toward Luxor, and cross Esna Lock after that arrive in Luxor, Return to the cruise ship, enjoy Egyptian Galabeya Party, Sail to Luxor, dinner and overnight on board on board your Nile cruise in Luxor.

Day 5 Disembarkation from Cruise 

Disembarkation then transfer to the West bank to visit the Valley of the Kings (3 royal tombs), then visit Queen Hatshepsut’s temple at Dier El Bahri and the Colossi of Memnon after that transferred to the East bank to visit the famous Karnak temples the largest temple in the world then move to Luxor temple after that transferred to Luxor airport to take a domestic flight back to Cairo, arrive in Cairo then transfer to the hotel and overnight.

Day 6: Cairo Tours

Pick up from the hotel by our guide and a full-day tour to visit the most famous Giza Pyramids, the Sphinx, and the Valley Temple then transfer to the Egyptian Museum to see the most famous collection of King Tutankhamen and the other collections then visit the most famous Khan El Khalili bazaar then transfer back to the hotel and overnight.

Day 7: Alexandria

Pick up from the hotel and transfer to the city of Alexandria the second capital of Egypt to visit the Greco-Roman monuments, the Catacombs of Kom El Shokafa, the Pompey’s Pillar then transfer to visit the famous Library of Alexandria which contains 8 Million books then visit the largest mosque in Alexandria the Mosque of Abu El Abbas then visits the Citadel of Qaitbay after that drive back to Cairo, arrive in Cairo, and Transfers to the hotel and overnight.

Day 8: Cairo 

Pick up from the hotel by our representative to transfer you to the airport and help you with the final airport formalities.

The Mentioned tour itinerary including the flowing: 

§   Private Egyptologist tour guide.

§   Transportation with A/C buses to all the mentioned sites.

§   Entrance fees to all the mentioned sites.

§   4 Nights hotel accommodation in Cairo with B/B bases.

§   3 Nights accommodation at a 5-star deluxe Nile cruise with full board bases.

§   Domestic flight tickets Cairo / Aswan – Luxor / Cairo.

§   Service Charge and tax.

 The mentioned tour itinerary not include the following:

§   Visa entry to Egypt.

§   Optional tours.

§   Any other items not mentioned.

§   Tipping kitty.

§    

·         Book Now via:

·         Website: https://jana.tours/

·         Christmas Tours: https://bit.ly/3UaCzVk

·         Egypt Packages: https://bit.ly/3TgGpvV

·         WhatsApp: https://wa.me/201143320224

    Email: info@janatoursegypt.com