#I think it's the neon triangles on black trim that are throwing me off

[dollelujah]

I'm sorry she looks like a cheesy mexican restaurant themed runway challenge

This is SUCH a glowup

[herpronuonsarefemslash]

TEASER - Topsy Turvy - Chapter 16

AT LAST! A new chapter of “Topsy Turvy, Switchy Witchy, Bottom’s Up Buttercup!” See it here:  https://www.patreon.com/posts/48253760 and read below for some teasers. ----- The students from Ilvermorny arrive in a marvelously American fashion: loud, colorful, and far too eager. Fleur is leaning against a column in the courtyard with Hermione is lazing against her side like a drowsy kitten when a thunderclap that shakes the trees heralds the opening of a massive portal. A fleet of Cadillacs in cherry red, lime green, lemon yellow, and neon blue roar across the surface of the lake, leaving trails of lightning behind their golden tires. At the tip of the formation is a massive, low-slung monstrosity, three times the size of the muscle car it once was. Jet black, but for a jagged pattern of white triangles on the hood and front fenders. Heavily trimmed in chrome. The engine roars loud as bull dragon and the headlights throw long lances of crimson light so intense it singes the grass. ..... Irene and Harold Dupre are the pride of the Dupre coven, the witches of the Delta, and the New Orleans flock. Though twins in upbringing and in practice, they were sired by two different men in short-lived trysts, and rumor has it that Emilia Dupre's wife saw to it that neither of the interlopers was seen again. Perhaps the human witch felt more secure in her marriage seeing to it that the expulsion was final, or perhaps it's just vicious rumors one veela flock tells about another. No matter the specifics, calling Harold and Irene 'twins' eases the explanation of how in the world a nest-queen in good health gave birth to a son of all things. ..... Hermione competing in their name has already done Ilvermorny proud in this tournament and given them new status with the European magical schools in general. They're praising their borrowed heroine, and she deserves every swoon. Fleur should be there. Hermione asked. It's petty of her, but she couldn't attend. As a woman, she can trust that Hermione's intentions with the Dupre twins are platonic, but as a veela, she can't bear the thought of watching one of them hand her the salt. Veela with not-yet-sealed bonds are not rational creatures, she supposes. ..... The phrase 'in all her glory' applies to Fleur in so many ways it's bloody unfair. The allure doesn't affect Hermione like it does strangers. Fleur's allure can't make her trip on her own feet or forget how to talk, but beautiful women can and Fleur is so very beautiful. And confident. And clever. And charming. Any girl who liked girls would be struck dumb by their attraction, with or without the allure. ..... It's the accidentally sexy Fleur that she can't handle. Fleur going through her day, either oblivious to how amazing she is or uncaring if people see. The woman can turn writing a letter to her family and eating a bowl of blueberries into a veritable orgy, slipping them between her lips one at a time and sucking her fingers clean so they don't stain the pages.  ..... She can't imagine not making love to Fleur the instant it's safe. The instant that it won't hurt Fleur or get her arrested. Well, arrested for their age because Hermione has some ideas involving the sonorous charm, the Millenium Wheel in London and the Eiffel Tower. Making Fleur's screams echo across the capitals of two countries will get them arrested. It'll be so fucking worth it. ..... "How do we look?" Hermione asks. "You look amazing, Hermione. Fleur..." She quirks a golden eyebrow. "...it's nice of Hermione to be seen with you." All three of his roommates burst into laughter. They snicker and eye-roll and jab him with their elbows from the common room down to breakfast. ..... A woman in a green coat with oversized glasses so red and sparkly it hurts his eyes is lingering in the corner with a bright green quill hovering over her notepad, which is floating in midair. The photographers point at the chairs set up in the middle of the room Cedric, Krum and Fleur are arranged in the back and two chairs are up front for Hermione and him. Hermione is already in hers, looking terrified because she's not exactly one for the spotlight. There's a rose on Harry's chair and there's a smell he doesn't like. He finds a serpentine hiss escaping his lips before he can stop it. For all the disadvantages of being a Gryffindor with a poisonous snake for a beast, the cobra's sense of smell is flawless and it's usually right when it thinks someone is trouble. His beast is very uneasy about that woman in green. Fleur seems to be too, judging by how she keeps subtly adjusting herself to be in between the woman and Hermione. Harry doesn't have much choice. The seat in front of Cedric is the one that's open. It's not that he doesn't like Cedric. It's that Cedric's beast is as on-point as Harry's is off the mark: a honey badger. A snake-eater. Cedric's beast came in relatively late, so he's had just over a year to practice controlling it, rather than Harry's three years. He picks up the rose and sits down, leaning forward a bit to put inches between them. Cedric takes his hands off the back of the chair Harry's in and mutters an apology. ..... Skeeter's eyes narrow and her quill scratches madly over the notepad hanging behind her shoulder. "Who wants to go first? Harry?" She grabs his hand and starts trying to tug him to his feet. She wants to take him somewhere no one can see, and he's lived with Aunt Petunia long enough to know that adults are at their worst when there's no other adults to embarrass them. "I'm good, thanks. I mean, we're all in this together, in a way. We're all going to be in danger. Far as I'm concerned, anything you want to ask me, you can ask me in front of my fellow champions."