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amortentia-over-ice · 9 months ago

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Cross The Line - Sebastian Sallow x F!MC

Summary: Being friends with Sebastian hadn't always been easy, but it had been worth it. You had stood with him through everything, and just as things feel like all is right in the world, he suddenly starts to ignore you for no reason. And you don't necessarily take it well when you're ignored.

Warnings: 18+, slight bondage, characters aged up, smut, p in v

Word Count: 3.6k (bit of an intro for this one)

Sebastian had been avoiding your gaze like you had the damn plague.

It had started out of nowhere. One day...you're both all laughs and chuckles on the sidelines of summoners court. Leander's poses were ridiculous, and you both couldn't help but exchange a few jokes about it.

There had been nothing wrong for the first time in forever, and the spring weather had just started making you and Sebastian entirely carefree as you relaxed together in the grass.

You hadn't noticed as the breeze picked up, accidentally blowing a tangle of your unruly hair into Sebastian's face.

You snorted as his eyes widened whilst your hair attacked him, you apologized trying to tame and untangle him from it. His laugh was softer, though, when he beat you to it. His fingers wrapped around the whipping curl and you paused as he tucked it behind your ear.

You thought you caught something in his eyes, but it was gone before you had time to think.

“Your hair is it’s own magical beast, we ought to study it in class.” He joked ruefully.

You swatted him again.

“Oh yeah? And how about yours Sebastian? Seems like it’s a topic of study for half the female population already anyhow.”

“And some of the male.” He added smugly.

“Yes, them too. So bugger off about my own hair already. We all can’t be so lucky.”

He smiled at you a moment longer, before turning his attention back to summoner’s court.

You had always bantered like this. He was easy to talk to, especially after navigating 5th and 6th year together....in your seventh everything had felt right in line for once. Like you might have been able to relax with each other after having gone through so much.

But you didn’t get to relax for long.

The next day, you tried to approach him at the Slytherin table, offering him another joke at Leander's expense. All he had offered in return was a weak smile before turning to start a conversation with the witch on the other side of him.

Your smile faltered, but you shook it off. That had been weird, but you tried not to think too much of it. Maybe it had just been a bad joke?

Then, a few days later, you caught up to him in the corridors, slightly out of breath after calling his name to find no answer.

“Sebastian - do you have gnargles in your ears today? I’ve been calling your name for Merlin knows how long.. ” You scolded him, still lightly but the smile wiped from your face when he just shrugged and stated,

“Were you? Sorry. Mind’s been preoccupied with a Runes assignment. I’ll catch you later though.”

You knew a dismissal when you saw one. This time, hurt and anger rose as you were left standing in the middle of the corridor as he hurried off.

But you were nothing if not stubborn. And you would not be ignored.

Walking into Charms, you saw that the seat next to him was still open...despite his pile of bags and books he had placed on the seat to make it seem occupied.

You stomped over, unceremoniously shoving his things to the floor and primly seating yourself down. He startled, looking at you with a glare.

“No other seats in this room seemed to strike your fancy today?” He snapped.

“Why- don’t want to sit next to me? Do I smell like a dugbog or something?” You snapped right back, despite your heated cheeks.

His own heated in return underneath his freckles as he sighed in annoyance, crossing his arms over his stack of books to rest his head upon them. He pulled his cloak’s hood over the unruly mess of brown and it was the last you saw of him for the rest of the lecture.

The entire time you were fidgeting uncontrollably. Your knee tapping had both of your notes almost impossible to take.

At one point, your knee accidentally brushed against Sebastian’s underneath the desk, and he jolted with so much force that the desk shook as his leg flew up with a bang to the underside of the table.

He gave you an icy glare which you returned as well.

Right as the bell rang, Sebastian clumsily gathered his books and shot up out of his seat to storm his way out, but not before you followed in determination.

“Sebastian. Talk to me.” You half whispered before grabbing his arm to keep him there. He whirled and looked at you as if you had burned him, his expression switching from anger, to what almost looked like pain for a minute, before indifference settled in.

“You’re becoming quite a distraction, you know.”

His words hit you like a brick in your stomach, and you eventually released him to let him storm off again.

You had turned the words over in your head as you went through the rest of your day. Distraction? How? You had hardly been in his vicinity long enough this week to distract him from anything.

You were not as gentle with potting your dittany as you should have been, grumbling that, if anything, it was Sebastian who had been distracting you now.

You had skipped supper that night, opting to brood in the undercroft instead...only to find that Sebastian had the same idea.

“No-“ He went to stand from the chair he had been seated in, but you had enough.

“Incancerous!”

You had your wand out of your robe pocket before Sebastian could see the movement, and he grunted as as cords from thin air materialized around his torso to tie him to the chair. His look of absolute shock was almost satisfying. Almost.

Just to be sure, you flicked your wand again to make sure his hands were bound behind his back as well.

“Are you mad?” Sebastian fidgeted with the restraints to find himself fully detained, but when he looked back at you his eyes held you in what you could only define as slight curiosity.

It was enough to embolden you more, as if tying up Sebastian Sallow wasn’t enough. He watched as you walked over to him, his brown eyes meeting yours with an arched brow as your head dipped down until you were mere centimeters from his face.

“Me? Mad? It’s possible....” You teased with a grin, and you swore you saw the corner of his lip twitch as if he was fighting a smile. You were both certainly mad in your own right if this is what it took to finally confront the truth you both had been avoiding.

“...You’ve been running from me all week, after all, so this was the only thing I could think of to get you to stay put.”

You confessed, watching as his expression turned pained, if just for a moment.

“Do you deny it?” You pressed him again, and his gaze flickered just slightly down to your lips. He let out a low sigh.

“Like I said. I’ve had a bit on my mind I’ve been trying to sort through. Distractions don’t help.”

You watched as his eyes tried to find any place else on your body to focus on besides your lips, but it was hard to hide much when he was stuck in place.

Your heart pounding as an idea came into your mind. An entirely mad one...but as Sebastian had pointed out already, madness had already been established here. Your breath fluttered out nervously before you moved.

“A distraction...?” You murmured hesitantly “...or a temptation?” When your finger tilted his jaw up to meet your eyes again, another low breath left his lips and you felt it brush against your own as you both regarded each other.

His brows furrowed together stubbornly, but he didn’t look away as he finally said,

“Does the difference matter?” He uttered, almost indolently as if in defeat.

But you didn’t want him to keep resisting. So you decided to give in.

You move forward as you both hold your breath, and slowly lower yourself, sliding yourself right onto his lap, crossing into new territory.

“What are you...” The hushed protest dies in his throat as you press hard against him, arms tangling behind his neck as you line your body against his. You are slightly trembling, and as if realizing that his breath hitches.

And oh. The fit of him against you lines so perfectly. It also allows you to feel the way his heart absolutely thunders, echoing your own.

He lets out a low curse and you swear you see his fingers twitching, itching to touch you.

But touching was an option he’d have to earn.

You lean back only to observe his expression that is almost pained in his attempt to not just lean forward and capture your mouth right then and there. So, Sebastian watches it instead as you speak.

“Well...If I’m just a distraction I suppose this will simply annoy you...”

Your other hand drags lower down his abdomen, tugging his shirt tail up to reveal skin, letting your nails slide under the cloth and trail the freckled abdomen you had dreamed about. Immediately he tightens under your touch. You raise your brow at him with a pleased grin.

“But, if I’m a temptation...try and resist me then.”

You nip against his ear and he groans. You had more where that came from.

You kiss everywhere along his neck, his jaw, everywhere besides his lips. His body tenses as if trying hard to continue to resist, but suddenly you feel the hard press of his cock harden against you in response. You sigh with a slightly smug smile of validation. You knew it. You knew he wanted this too.

"Fuck," The words are a groan and you decide to smile sweetly in victory.

"Maybe...it's possible." You whisper between kissing his freckles, "...that you don't want to resist?"

Your words are teasing, but hope lingers at the edges that it's enough for him to nuzzle against you.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for ...” He breathlessly exhales. Then he moves to find your neck. You feel a slight, nervous, pause as his breath coasts down your neck, raising your flesh with his heat. Then, suddenly, he nuzzles down the column of your throat inhaling as if trying to drink in your scent, straining against the ropes. Soft kisses start to pepper against your skin, slowly, as if this was a moment he had been fighting for a while. You lean back to find his eyes, holding them as you say

“I know what I want, Sebastian.”

You take his words as an opportunity to shift your hips, tracing the length of him between your legs. He lets out another sharp noise as his lips find your skin again in immediate response. Your hand lifts to tangle in his hair to keep him there, tilting your head back and losing yourself in the feel of his open mouthed kisses against your neck...

But you couldn’t let him have all the fun yet. And you still did have to remind him that he had ignored you for an entire week for no reason.

You lean away from his kiss, though the heat building is hard to leave and his confusion finds you before you lean to lick at his collar bone, slowly removing his shirt where you could, leaving it open everywhere the ropes didn’t bind, biting along the way as another playful punishment, licking your marks as you went.

But your own...you let that completely fall to the floor to reveal nothing underneath. His eyes widen, dark with desire as they drink you in.

There is no denying it anymore. This thing between the two of you. But you wanted to hear him say it.

“Temptation it is then.”

You whisper as you decided for him, and all he can do is nod in confirmation as he fights for his breath.

“It’s a line we shouldn’t cross.” He utters in return as everything suspends between you both for a moment.

“We’ve always crossed lines, Sebastian. Since fifth year. Let’s not stop now.”

“That’s exactly why...we ...what I did...you..” Your eyes cloud and as if seeing the need in yours for the first time, his words soften, “..w-why we shouldn’t.”

“Stop holding on to the past, Sebastian. You only get two options. Now or never. I didn’t tie you up for you to still run away from me."

Your words soften, pressing, as he can't meet your eyes, "...Tell me why we shouldn’t. Or tell me that you want me.” Your words tumbled out, desperate and needing him to tell you what you yearned to hear.

“Fuck.” His breath is shallow, and then his finally eyes meet yours, serious and unsettling. In a ragged breath he finally gives in.

“You know I do.” His breath is strangled as the words stumble out..his brown eyes locked on yours, “... I want you. Ever since your damn hair got in my face and all I could breathe was your scent. It’s intoxicating. I’ve wanted you since then. And probably before that. Even though I shouldn’t. I do.”

His last word cracks in desperation and you meet it with the desperation of your own as you lean forward to capture his lips finally.

A slight whimper escapes your mouth as he meets your kiss with a hunger you weren’t ready for, his open mouth against yours as his tongue rolls to find yours, teeth and tongue, biting and sucking and everywhere, before you can register it. It’s as if he was waiting to devour your.

His hips rock into yours, the only movement he can manage whilst still tied, and you press hard back against him. The electric charge between you is palpable and despite months of build up it’s only taking seconds for you both to lose yourselves in each other.

Your hair tangles into his brown curls as he gives an appreciative moan into your kiss, you let your fingers tug him closer to you and he kisses you harder, but the ropes groan with how hard he fights them to get closer.

But not yet.

Your hands travel down as your mouth stays on his, deftly undoing the buttons of his trousers, and shoving them downwards past his knees until his cock springs loose. He groans again and then all but looses his breath as your hands wrap around him. He bucks right into your hands and you breathe words of praise to him.

“S-shit.” He took in another shaky inhale as your hand moved in a steady rhythm along his length, savoring the feel of him, and finding his girth was enough to have to use both of your hands. Friction still found you, however, with a small adjustment you were able to ride it out against his thigh. The combination of your skin on his now bare thigh, your hands wrapped around his cock...Sebastian was reeling with want as he groaned into your mouth. He pulled back as his cock became harder in your hands, eyes on you with a demanding low growl.

“That’s it. Untie me. I need my hands on you.”

You nipped at his lips, and he he hissed. You gave him a smile as your scratchy voice taunted him,

“Finally telling me what you want like a big boy. Much better.”

Your hand barely flicks your wand to remove the bindings before his is around your wrist, and the other gripping your hip to pull you back towards him and locking you against him.

His hand momentarily comes up to tangle in your mess of hair, wrapping it around his hand with a tug.

"I've been wanting to pull on this damn hair since fucking summoner's court." He hisses out before kissing you again. His hand returns to your jaw to kiss you deeper, you moaned into his kiss, and he groaned in return at the sound. He lets his hand at your hip travel down to cup your ass and press you harder against his erection.

“Did you want me to tell you how many times I’ve been dreaming of fucking you? Of having you right here like this? Do you want that?”

His breath is shallow against your lips as the confession of his desires has a deep feeling of wanting pulling at your lower stomach, the words going through you like thunder.

“Yes." You whimper, the word is show and clipped, your hips move mindlessly to show him exactly how much.

Catching your meaning, his hand left your jaw to still your hips, then he went further down until he found your clit, one finger at your apex as the other dipped into you. He exhaled with want as a filthy sound comes out of your throat.

“So wet for me.” He sighs, and you let out a needy whimper as he continues to work you, pleasure pooling and making a mess between you both. You feel his rock hard cock twitch against your thigh just at the sensation.

“Sebastian -- Please..”

But now that his hands are free, Sebastian is painstakingly slow. Continuing to rub against your swollen nub as he watches you writhe and gasp against him as if it’s the most incredible thing he’s ever seen, watching your every movement. His other travels up your abdomen, to your breast, thumb rubbing over your peaked nipple as he takes in every inch of you, and every inch of you is begging for him.

You realized how badly you had needed him. How you couldn’t stand the brief moment of there being a possibility you were invisible to him, because it was apparent he had seen every inch of you as his hands undid you piece by piece.

Your hands gripped his curls.

“Sebastian-“ Your breath came faster, as did his.

“That’s it.. Breathe through it, darling. Let me see you..” His shallow praise finally pushed you over the edge as your orgasm rolled through you, and you rode his finger still in you while he drank you in, crying out as you fell against him.

Next thing you knew, his hands were around you, holding you to pick you up and lower you both to the ground.

“Merlin -“ He slurs in desire, your name falling like a praise from his lips as he found yours again, never far.

He parts your thighs with his knee, his eagerness apparent as his body pressed yours deliciously into the floor. You rise to meet him, your own legs wrap around him eagerly as you kiss along his bare chest. You need all of him. Your hips demandingly reach upwards to drag the wetness he drew from you all along his shaft.

He inhaled sharply as he pulled away briefly, exhaling as his hand cupped your cheek as you both paused for a moment.

“I- If we do this..”

“Yes.” You cut him off with assured and breathless words.

“Are you...sure?”

You pulled his forehead down to yours.

“I want to cross every line with you.”

He exhaled, as if in relief, and this time when your lips met they moved slowly against each other, as if savoring every movement.

Vaguely, you felt his fingers hook your soaked cloth to the side, and and the blunt press of his head against your folds.

You both inhaled, and in the next moment he was pressing inside of you as the line was not only crossed, but entirely decimated. A sinful noise fell from your lips as he filled you.

The feeling was so sweet that you whimpered again, his eyes widened to make sure you were okay, you only nodded, wrapping your arms around his neck.

His shaky breath turned into a groan as his hips pushed deeper into you, sinking in completely.

“Merlin- fuck. You feel amazing.”

You sighed in agreement against his ear, his brown curls rustling from your air.

Then he moved and those sighs turned into hard and fast moans, as you held him like an anchor as he thrusted deep into you.

There was no holding back. For either for you. The pace was unrelenting as your breath mingled together, praise falling from his lips, his name as a moan from yours.

As he filled you, his hands traveled along your body, worshipping every inch of skin he could reach, reassuring kisses placed on the nape of your collarbone, until his mouth inevitably found yours again, after years of wanting your lips, he refused to leave them alone.

His hips drew every ounce of pleasure from you, drawing out slowly only to plunge back in. A sweet torture that had you trembling under him. A hand reached behind him to hold your thigh, pressing it against him to steady you as his clouded eyes watched your face twist with desire under him. He had never imagined how much it would undo him to watch you like this, as you both fell apart together.

His grip tightens on your thigh, as he tries to still his thrusts, but you protest as your hips roll towards him again to push him deeper yourself. He lets out half of a laugh and half a moan.

“Don’t hold back from me. Never again.” You breathe out in demand.

He presses back into you wholeheartedly as he promises you, “Never again.”

The pace increases between you again, desperate, driving each other towards that cliff and your fingers grip his hair again in warning. Then, with a particularly deep thrust, your back starts arching off the ground as the wave inside of you builds around him.

“Seb-“ You gasp, unable to warn him but your muscles clench around him, almost refusing to let him leave your body. You bow under his movements, relishing and taking all he was giving you.

“Fuck - I can feel you- I’m going to-“ His words are clipped, telling you he’s right there with you.

Suddenly, his hands find yours, pinning them above your head, allowing him the leverage to thrust deeper into a broken and unrelenting rhythm that had your legs widening and hips rocking to meet him as he drew in and out. Your heated gaze locked on his as the rhythm of your shared pace caused the world to explode into stars around you.

You cry his name as your body combusts around him, he groans a curse in response as your walls unforgivingly contract around his cock. Your name on his breath is a quick beat, between gasping breaths, until he shudders and falls against you, the hot feel of him filling you...and then the feel of him spilling out of you.

But his hips are won’t to stop, and he continues to move inside of you as your body milks every bit of his own orgasm, pushing through the mess of your juices spilling together between you.

You both fight to catch your breath, and he looks at you in a way you had seen once before but thought you imagined.

This time you don’t imagine it.

He loves you.

His hand gently cusps your cheek again, leaning his forehead against yours before pressing a tender kiss against your lips.

As you kiss him back, you now you feel the same. He was a line you would cross again, and again, and again.

#hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow smut #sebastian sallow fanficiton #sebastian sallow fanfic #hogwarts legacy smut #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #y/n

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plantyberry · 1 month ago

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Part 10: Chapter 2-2, or, 'I cast: Summon soulmate!'

I have no excuse for what comes next, other than "I am very distractible your honor".

Cuckoo points

When watching the TV with Adrian (after Lorelei appears) -My spidey senses are tingling. +1 Cuckoo

When the barrier goes up: -I burst out singing the infamous Doom Song. +1 Cuckoo

Walking through the forest: -I just keep a watchful eye out for any potential lurking yeti. +1 Cuckoo

Baby's first spell: -"IÃ! IÃ Cthulhu fhtagn! Ph'nglui mglw'nafh cthulhu r'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn!" +1 Cuckoo -I know what I must do. And that means beginning to dance the Macarena. +1 Cuckoo --I wonder if pocket snakes and pocket spiders can get along well together? +1 Cuckoo

If you STILL didn't get your cursed mark healed and you have a gun, throw it at the hellhound. +1 Cuckoo

If you are an Imposter, after the suspicious billboard appears: -"I thought I just saw a mutant wolf-bear-shark/zombie standing by the side of the road!" +1 Cuckoo

Upon meeting Percy, if you are his soulmate: -Oh my god, it's my soul mate! +1 Cuckoo

Before the introductions: -This is in preparation for the lunatic asylum, obviously. +1 Cuckoo

Percy's 20 Questions: -How much wood would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood? +1 Cuckoo

The chess game (Must know SOMETHING about Arthurial lore) -A fine tradition just so long as a chess set doesn't go zooming around the room +1 Cuckoo

Rock Paper Scissors contest: -Never mind, all this. I begin dancing the Tango de la Muerte. +1 Cuckoo

Final round of the Rock Paper Scissors against Merlin: -I begin imagining a naked Homer Simpson seductively dancing around while singing "Meow, meow, meow!" +1 Cuckoo

The Chess: -I flick my marble and knock several of my opponents' pieces out of their peg holes. +1 Cuckoo

How to Soulmate Percy T. Longspear

I noticed several people were asking, so now you shall receive!

You need: Cuckoo over 30 And Corruption under 0 Will rating over 7 a Hero score over 0 Sweet over 100 or two-faced(Sweet) Purity over 3

A rather hefty list when ou think about it, but easier to think about when breaking it down.

Cuckoo Score >= 30

The cuckoo score is what my entire guide is about, but there are ways to determine how high yours is during the game:

After the dream sequence, if cuckoo > 30: "Hello, can you hear me?" During the mysterious quotes.

When casting the spell to detect a harbinger, if cuckoo>30: A moment of startlement and someone reaches forth." There you are "And with that, it vanishes.

(In other words, Percy reaches out to you through the Malkavian Network Cuckoo Sensor)

If either of those appear for you in-game, you're golden.

Hero > 0

The hero score is a tally of your 'heroic' actions. You gain 1 point when you WILLINGLY rescue your clubmate and another when you try protecting Adriand from the hellhound (must pass the fear check)

Purity >=3

Purity is the easiest: Be a general heroic do-gooder. Don't steal, don't swear, ever (seriously, swearing too much actually tanks your purity), and don't get mindcontrolled. In 2-2, when confronted to the choice about swearing, picking the first option (As usual my mind remains pure and free of any swear words that might fit this exact situation.) already gives you +2. If you went to the rescue during Club? Gain +1. If you tried protecting Adrian from the hellhound? Another +1 and enough to put you in the clear.

Warning: Picking Serial Killer will give you a grand total of -1000 purity, therefore locking you out of soulmate status automatically

Sweet >= 100 or two-faced(Sweet)

Sweet is self-explanatory and I'm not high enough on sugar to even think about making a Sweet Guide. Pick the general 'nice' options and it should be easy.

Will >=7

The Big One, the options to gain some Will aren't that common, sooooo, I guess… SneakyWillPointsGuideUpToMeetingPercyGO! (Ignoring the mind control, demon mark shenanigans, and the will loss mitigations though (they're not net positives after all))

An impromptu Will points guide!

Prologue:

Wake Up: +1 Will

In the Apartment:

Childhood (Amnesia): will +1 After the TV turns itself on, keep turning it off until you get the Sysiphus achievement: will +1 Hobby (Criminal): will +1 BUT Also gives +1 Corruption Phone (Juke): will +1 Try to exorcise the TV: will +1

Adrian Convo:

Be stubborn about your outfit choices (dresses, tux, Spandex…). One example is the infamous Tange de la Muerte episode (complete with Keikaku achievement). will +1 If you're a security guard, refuse to run away and tell Adrian what happened in the Parking Lot: will +1 Talk about intrusive thoughts and give him a rundown of the ones you've had: will +1 Ask about the apocalypse and when asked about why, reply with "Meta Knowledge": will +1 BUT Also gives +1 Corruption

Polo Club:

Deny foreshadowing 7 times. will +1 Talent(Lucid dreamer) will +1 If you fell off your horse: I somewhat painfully rise to my feet under my own power. will +1 During the match, ignore everything and "I ignore everything else and keep my eyes riveted to the lurching void that shambles ever closer." will +1 (your vice must NOT be Greed) Successfully rescue Pippa: will +1

Fencing Club:

On the way to the club, keep your eyes on the prize: will +1 Keep procrastinating and avoid changing/delay 4 times: will +1 (If your vice is Sloth, gain +1 Vice level which is… Ominous.) In the Stalls, when told to come out and play: -Scream bloody murder for Adrian, then refuse to move: will +1 -Pull out your weapon at the ready: will +1 Talent(Lucid dreamer) will +1 Before the match: I gravely inform the audience that only masked eyes are allowed to behold my full splendor. will +1 (Need Cuckoo >4) During the sword match, before the sword breaks: I concentrate fully on the fencing bout I'm currently engaged in. will +1 After the match, try changing in the Changing rooms with Brenda: will +1

Fencing failure (Paramedic): Immediately start applying pressure on Zain (Don't go for the station): -I just focus on my work right in front of me. Complexion pale. No stridor or wheezing. Was it just the sight of all the blood that caused him to lose consciousness? will +1

Sword Club Bad end (Paramedic) -Still I plod on. This is why I'm a paramedic. will +1

As far as secrets go, being a serial killer gives you will +1 while lying about your amnesia gives you will +3

The Time Bubble:

If Fear checked against hellhound pass: -I pull out my weapon from its bag. It's better than nothing. will +1 -I protectively step in front of Adrian, much to his great consternation. will +1

When arriving to your building, take the stairs. will +1 STOICALLY plod your way up the stairs. will +1 Ignore Adrian's advice: will +1 In front of your apartment: Never mind going into my apartment. Let's stay in the corridor. will +1 Inside your apartment: I REFUSE TO GO TO SLEEP! will +1

If you failed the check and the Hydra grabs you: -I tear my weapon free. will +1 -I desperately cling on to anything within reach. will +1

If successfully escaped they Hydra: -I calmly open the door and inform the new visitor/s about a potential monster infestation. will +1

Look through the peephole, then open the door to slam it in their face again. will +1 (This WILL give you -10 Sweet, so not the best if you're aiming for Percy)

If Merlin ends up having to blow up your door: I just pull forth my handy weapon and wave it menacingly at the interloper. will +1 (-5 Sweet on that one. Once again, to avoid)

Refuse healing: will +1

Merlin's infodump and preparing to leave:

If turned into a duck: -I'm a duck. I've got wings now. I can fly. I know what I must do. To infinity and beyond! will +1

Categorically refuse to join the adventure: will +1(And increases Denial)

Don't take anything with you on this quest: will +1

Don't take a full inventory with you on this quest: will +1

Leaving the house: Dance in the enevator, then go for the Tango de la Muerte for the Coup the Grâce. will +1

When thinking back about the apartment: My thoughts are my own alone. will +1

Dream sequence: (Must be Lucid Dreamer)

Speaking with Merlin: "Merlin… say my name." will +1 Fighting with Lancelot: This is a dicey game to play, but even so… I'll push my luck as a dreamer here! will +1 When adventuring with Arthur: This is the memory of a dream that I now walk. And so I'll force the knowledge of where the fae awaits into my very mind and take action at that. will +1 At the end of the dream, turn around and catch the hand. will +1

In the RV

Ignore Merlin's warning and pick up the phone anyway. will +1 (Corrupt +1)

In the Parking lot:

If Kidnapped: Try to escape (need will>7) will +1 Follow Merlin (need will>7) will +1 -Keep trying to find him. will +1 --Look up. will +1 --Protect your neck. will +1 --- No really… what had Merlin truly been doing out here? will +1

In the shop:

Talking with Adrian about that 'Benoni' Surname: Married. "It makes the most sense" will +1 If you smoke and Adrian lost your lighter: redirect him towards one of those multi-use utility lighters. will +1

#oks #one knight stand #oks mc #oks cuckoomc

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rems-writing · 2 months ago

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Eight makes one moan (part one)

Pairing: idol!Jongho x witch afab!reader

Genre: smut with a bit of plot

Wordcount: 1,738 words

Rating: nc-17

Nets: @mirohs-aurora-society @othersideoutlawsnetwork @illusionnet

Happy six years to these crackhead pirates!!!!!!!!

It had officially hit six years for Ateez. Even though you were introduced to them somewhat during the Deja Vu era, you fell in love with them through their song Desire and have officially dubbed yourself an Atiny during the Guerilla era. As you were blasting every single album series alongside Zelena, Regina and Robin watched from afar with adoration in their eyes and small grins on their lips. The events that had occurred throughout the quaint town of Storybrooke had taken a toll on you.

After all, you were dubbed as the Demonic Ace for a while.

Thanks to Henry and his penmanship as the current Author, your DNA had been rewritten and you were known as the Angelic Ace. Thanks to Merlin, your self inflicted glass heart curse was lifted and you could feel again. Thanks to Regina casting one more curse, all the kingdoms were united and Storybrooke was safe once more.

Which leads us to now.

“9024 KICK THAT DRUM!”

“MY EGO IN THE SHOW!”

You and Zelena were singing Crazy Form and doing the choreo the same exact way as Ateez had done it. However, you both were old hags (as in old people stuck in young people’s bodies) so you felt your joints ache with every single step and jump you guys did. Once the song was over, another track came up.

And it was your favorite track off the album.

“HOW THE FUCK DOES SAN SOUND LIKE THAT?!”

“I DON’T KNOW, Z. BUT IT’S SEXY AS HELL!”

“HELLO?! SEONGHWA’S PART?!”

Whilst you two were freaking out and doing a poor yet original dance to Arriba, Regina came over and turned down the volume, leaving the both of you to groan in frustration. Robin simply chuckled and walked over to you two.

“Sorry if we paused your fun. We do have reservations at a restaurant in New York so we kind of have to get going.”

“OH SHIT! I FORGOT IT WAS TODAY!”

“LAST ONE TO THE CAR ISN’T A REAL ATINY!”

“YOU BITCH -”

Zelena cackled and sprinted away. You decided to cheat a bit and use your magic to trip her, causing her to fall and curse at you while you floated away. You got to the car first and you were about to sit in the front seat when you heard Regina clear her throat behind you.

“You know the rules, sis.”

“BUT I GOT HERE FIRST, GINNIE!”

“I know. I would’ve let you sit in front if Robin wasn’t tagging along. Since he is though, you got to sit in the back.”

You grumbled in annoyance as you sat in the back. Zelena teased you and you decided to get back at her by summoning a large june bug and having it fly around her. It was hilarious seeing a mop of curly red hair fling about as she tried to swipe away the bug. You made the bug disappear and she flipped you off. Soon, the four of you drove out of Storybrooke and made your way towards New York.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I’M SEEING MY MAN LIVE!”

“AS IF YOU HAVEN’T ALREADY SEEN HIM LIVE LIKE HUNDREDS OF TIMES!”

“STILL THOUGH!”

Long story short, Regina and Robin surprised you and Zelena with tickets to see Ateez live. Since it was their sixth anniversary, they decided to host an event. Not only did you two receive tickets, but you also got backstage passes so you would get to see your man in person. You were freaking out, but not as much as Zelena was. It dawned on her that she would meet her bias. As the two of you were getting ready for the backstage meet & greet, the former Wicked Witch paced back and forth.

“Oh God. What if Yeosang thinks I’m too old?”

“You’ll be fine.”

“What will WooSan think of me?”

“Again. You’ll be fine.”

“Is it too late to back out now?”

“Good God. Get a grip, girl!”

You grabbed Zelena by the shoulders and made her stop pacing before shaking her out of her nervous stupor.

“You’ll be fine. Just be yourself! Well… don’t admit you’re a witch. At least… not yet.”

“But doesn’t Jongho know?”

“Yeah, but he didn’t tell his other bandmates.”

“But Yeosang is in the group chat with us.”

“We never mentioned witch activity in said group chat when Yeosang was added. Right?”

“Well… no.”

“See?! Problem solved! Now come on. Let me finish your makeup.”

Soon, the two of you made it to the venue and showed your passes to the security guard before entering one of the vacant greenrooms, where all the members of Ateez stood. You saw a few Atinys and interacted with them while Zelena shyly said hello and mainly just talked with Yeosang, who introduced her to San and Wooyoung. When you got to Jongho, he pulled you aside and looked around to see if anyone was looking. As soon as the coast was clear, he kissed you hard. It caught you off guard yet you kissed back immediately and gripped his nice biceps.

You were the only one that had the privilege of touching them.

“I missed you, honey.”

“I missed you too, my bear.”

The two of you connected foreheads and stayed like that for a while. Even though you guys could handle the long distance relationship, the feeling of having each other in both of your arms was that of elation and relief.

“After the concert, tell Zelena that you’re staying behind. I told our manager to retrieve you after the show.”

“Am I going to stay the night with you?”

“Only if you want.”

“I would love to.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The concert soon ended and you told Zelena that you’ll be spending the night with Jongho. The two of you shared a knowing look before she departed. When you found their manager, he led you to an empty dressing room. You thanked him and you saw Jongho sitting on the couch waiting for you. He looked up and smirked before standing up and walking towards you. He picked you up bridal style and carried you out of the room before exiting the venue through a back door. A van was waiting for you guys and as soon as you two hopped in, the doors slid shut and the van took off. A minute down the road and you two were making out like nobody’s business. Jongho’s hands gripped your waist while he kissed down your neck and your hands tangled in his hair. You were biting down on your lip to prevent any moans from escaping. Soon, you two approached the hotel you were staying at and as soon as the van doors slid open, Jongho grabbed your hand and the two of you exited the van before sprinting into the lobby. You guys ran into the nearest vacant elevator and Jongho pressed his floor button before he turned to you and attacked your lips once more. Once the elevator reached his floor, he hoisted you up and over his shoulder before walking towards this huge penthouse suite that the guys rented out for their stay here. He kicked open the doors and set you down on the couch. When you gathered your bearings, you noticed the amount of rose petals and fake lit up candles surrounding the room.

‘Aww! He’s so romantic.”

‘He truly missed you.’

‘Wait… why is he coming back with his members?’

Your eyes widened when all eight of them approached you. The seven of them kept a respectable distance while Jongho walked towards you and knelt in front of you.

“Before you freak out, let me explain.”

You nodded slowly and signalled for him to continue.

“I talked about this with my members. You know me. I am a man who doesn’t share, especially when it comes to the love of my life. However, I realized… that sharing you with my fellow bandmates isn’t so bad. That doesn’t mean you’ll date all of them. God no! It’s just… I’ve had this hidden fantasy about seeing you get fucked by all the members and I honestly want to make it a reality. There’s just one thing missing.”

Jongho grabbed your hand and kissed the back of it.

“Your consent.”

You were in shock to hear about this. Sure, his bandmates were attractive as hell and you couldn’t deny that some of them were wrecking you (mainly Yunho and San). However, to initiate something as huge as this? Even though Jongho said he was ok with it, you didn’t know deep if you were ok with it. Furthermore, you also thought about what would happen if you didn’t do it. Sure, Jongho and the rest of Ateez will understand, but you’d feel bad for not indulging in one of his fantasies. He indulged in so many of yours.

Might as well return the favor.

Right?

“Um… ok then. I think… I’ll do it.”

“Are you sure? Because once we get started, there’s no going back. Unless we do something that you definitely don’t like. In that case, we’ll back off.”

“I’m positive, Jongho. I want to try this out. I’ve got nothing to lose.”

Jongho smiled his precious gummy smile and hugged you tightly before kissing the side of your head. When he let go, he turned around and saw the 98 liners approach you first. Jongho caressed your cheek and kissed your lips lightly.

“We’ve arranged it in the order of our unit tracks.”

OH! OK THEN!

“Matz first.”

Seonghwa and Hongjoong kissed both corners of your mouth delicately and retracted slowly.

“WooSanSang second.”

‘Can’t wait for Zelena to hear about this!’ You thought in the back of your mind.

“YunGi third.”

The tall towers leaned down to whisper in your ear sensually.

“Hi there, angel.” Yunho said in your left ear deeply.

“Hey there, baby girl.” Mingi said in your right ear deeply and huskily.

You gulped nervously as they retracted themselves.

“Lastly, me.”

You saw Jongho kneel in front of you once more and smirk before kissing the tip of your nose. He soon retracted and signalled for Seonghwa and Hongjoong to go first. The 99 liners and Jongho soon all backed up and went into the separate rooms the penthouse had. Seonghwa sat on the couch and pulled you onto his lap while Hongjoong held your chin and made you look up at him.

“Ready to have some fun?”

#mirohsaurorasociety #other side outlaws network #illusionnet #ateez #ateez imagines #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #ateez smut

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starlingflight · 9 months ago

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sneak peak for the hinny dating wip 👀

I haven't actually written very much of it... I've been focused on the next chapter of IAL (it's currently at 6,000 words and very hard to wrangle - taking up a great deal of my time).

Short snippet of what I do have though (because I'm always honoured to be asked!):

‘Pizza?’ Ginny offered once again as they walked into her flat, already reaching for the menus on the console table beside her door.

Harry shook his head, apparently forgetting that was the whole reason for him coming to her flat rather than his own. ‘Nah, I'm not hungry.’

Ginny shrugged, placing the menus back where they lived. ‘Beer?’

‘Sure,’ Harry agreed, already settling himself on Ginny's blue velvet sofa.

She folded herself into the spot next to him, her legs stretching into his lap. With a flick of her wand, she summoned two ice cold brown bottles from the cooling cabinet. Harry plucked his out of the air, holding it up in silent salute to her.

Ginny returned the gesture, taking a sip from the frothy bottle. ‘I saw Michael today.’

Harry's bottle met the coffee table with a thud. ‘Oh?’

‘He's getting married…’ Ginny took another sip of her beer, watching the surprise overtake Harry's face. ‘And having a baby.’

‘Good for him,’ Harry said unenthusiastically. Ginny hummed in agreement. Harry turned sharply to look at her, a heart-wrenching look of concern falling across his face. ‘Sorry, am I supposed to ask you if you're emotionally devastated about your ex moving on in such a permanent way?’

Ginny laughed. ‘That would be wildly unexpected of you,’ she said dryly.

Her head tilted, resting against the back of the sofa as she looked at him. He'd gotten much better at emotional support since their school days, or maybe they'd just got closer, but Ginny's relationships wasn't usually a topic they discussed in great detail.

Harry grinned back at her, not in the least offended by the remark. ‘Well, I thought I'd better check, just in case you'd lost your mind and thought you'd missed out or something.’

Ginny shook her head. ‘No, I'm happy for him. Merlin knows, I didn't want to have his baby.’

Harry's grin widened. ‘Thousands of Harpies fans just breathed a sigh of relief.’

‘Imagine,’ Ginny's words were punctuated with more laughter. ‘Giving up another shot at the cup to have Michael Corner's baby.’

‘It would be a crime,’ Harry agreed through a laugh of his own. ‘You're going to win next season. I can feel it.’

‘Well, I've never known fate to dare to argue you with you,’ Ginny said lightly.

#hinny #harry x ginny #fake dating #also guys look I conformed and did single quote marks

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tyrantisterror · 3 months ago

Text

Wizard School Mysteries Book 3: Wicked Witchcraft Trivia

Wizard School Mysteries Book 3: Wicked Witchcraft has been out for three weeks now (in paperback and kindle formats), so it's time to continue an old tradition of mine. We're going to talk about slasher movies, faustian pacts, Halloween episodes, and lots and lots of spoilers, so dive in with me after the cut if you've read the book, won't you? WARNING: SPOILERS AHEAD!

General trivia:

I consider this entry the Wizard School Mysteries Halloween special - a spookier-than-normal adventure where our heroes encounter classic horror tropes and have to try and come out on top. I think it's probably going to be the book where the Scooby Doo influence on this series is most prominent - I definitely tried to play into it when designing the book's cover, which is meant to evoke the "Oh no the gang's being chased by the monster!" moments that happen at least once an episode.

As the cover also conveys, this book plays with Slasher tropes a lot as well. I talked about it in the forward a bit, but I do think Slasher films should be in the conversation when we talk about the Mystery Solving Teens genre, even if they're more of a deconstruction of the Mystery Solving Teens tropes than anything else - Mystery Failing Teens, if you will, since the teens in Slasher movies generally ignore all the clues they're given until it's far too late to stop the bad guy. I'm not the first to notice this overlap, as the countless "What if Jason murdered Mystery Inc?" jokes made over the years can attest (it's a Robot Chicken sketch, so you know it's a tired joke), but I thought it'd be interesting to let the crossover of these two genres play in the Teens' favor for once. This is less a story of Jason massacring the scoobies, and more of the scoobies outfoxing Jason.

More than that, though, it's a story of a Faustian pact. One of the things that came up in the research stage of me plotting out this series was the prevalence of devils in the magic traditions of European mythologies. There are a lot of mythic and folkloric wizards whose power is explicitly derived from Satan and his cohorts - even Merlin, in some versions of Arthuriana, is sometimes tied to devilry, with these versions claiming his magic powers and poor moral compass are a result of his father being the Devil himself. And a lot of folkloric demons have a long list of subjects they can teach the people who summon them, which often include types of magic. So while I didn't want all my wizards to get magic from the devil, I thought it'd be interesting to have at least one story arc focus on the devil's role as a teacher - and that aligned with one of my other goals for this series, which was using the wizard school setting as a way to critique real world education problems. What would the devil's education equate to in our modern world? Well, I think an unpaid internship qualifies quite well - he'll pay you in experience, you just have to give him everything you have and then some! And since Gretchen Pappenheimer is the most mad-scientist-y of our meddlesome youths, it only made sense to me that she'd be our unfortunate Faust figure, trapped into a soul-degrading internship by a choice made in innocence of how bad the world can be.

If you look on the publishing info page, you may spy a reference to Michael Jackon and/or Lemon Demon's magnum opus, Spirit Phone!

Chapter 1

Ok, now that we've got the general stuff out of the day, let's go chapter by chapter. I've been reading a lot more manga lately, and one thing that I've found really endearing is the recap page a lot of manga come with after the first volume or so - a brief little summary of the plot so far as well as a list of the main characters (with pictures attached, obviously) and one sentence long descriptions of their personalities. It's not something that's crucial for Wizard School Mysteries to have, necessarily - this is a series that really needs to be read in order, so someone jumping in with book 3 isn't going to have a great time, recap page or no - but given how long the gap between each book's publication is, it could be useful for old readers to be reminded of key plot points before they dive in, and it was fun to make.

While discussing Francane's odd customs that require the differences between family connected by blood vs. family connected by marriage or adoption, Margot relates how the custom was started by a former queen named Ella, whose contentious relationship with her step-family inspired the law. This, of course, would be Midgaheim's Cinderella - and likewise, the Duchess who made strict laws about the care and storage of spindles, Briar Rose, would be Midgaheim's Sleeping Beauty. One of the fun things about making a big multi-mythology crossover is thinking of the consequences of all these stories interacting with their big, dramatic endings - how happily ever after might plant the seeds of new conflicts later on.

There may or may not be some references to the opening number of Beauty and the Beast in the description of Margot and James entering the provincial town of Champagen.

Just as Margot d'Francane's name is a reference to Marie de France (among other things), who is perhaps my favorite medieval writer, Margot's adoptive father/guardian also takes his name from a medieval French writer I love, though his is more obvious. That's right, the blacksmith Creten Detrois is named after the Arthurian Ballad writer Cretien de Troyes.

Creten giving James the protective father third degree is based a bit on my own real life experience. A friend and I were making a day trip to one of Michigan's oldest cemeteries, and when I went to pick her up for it her dad started grilling me, and only halfway through I realized he thought I was taking his daughter out on a date. It was a bit weird and tense but also oddly affirming in a way? I thought it might be nice for James to have the same experience, especially given how the scene for James ends with Creten offering to help "make a man" out of him - a goal James is very much interested in reaching.

One of the subtler traumas of college, in my experience, is how impermanent the concept of "home" becomes when you're at it. I moved to and from so many different residences during my five years of undergraduate work - dormitories, townhouses, apartments, there was at least one big move a year. And when I went back to visit my folks, I was always astounded by how much my town seemed to be changing while I was away - even Home with a capital H was changing while I was away. Ivan's trauma in chapter 1 is sort of a worst case scenario of that - he comes home from his first year of college to find he's not only been evicted, but that the house he lived in has literally been removed brick by brick, with all his possessions sold off.

One of my goals with this series is to try and put some mystique back into how wizards are perceived. A lot of media in the post-Henry Pansley fantasy landscape treats wizards as, like, just normal people who happen to have magic powers in the same way that we happen to have smart phones. Personally, my preference is for the Tolkien style wizards - whether it's Gandalf, Saruman, or the underdeveloped ones, a wizard should feel like An Event when they arrive. They're still a person, yes, but they live in and operate on such a different level of existence from most people that even a casual interaction with them can have big consequences. Rodrigo's curse on Ivan's village is one of my attempts to drive that home - we spend a lot of time with these wizard kids, so it's good to remind the audience that, as human and goofy as they are, they still command a terrifying and awe-inspiring power over magic. In Rodrigo's case, he got to be the mysterious spellcaster who shows up one day to deliver poetic justice to a town full of shitty people, like in a fairy tale.

The concept of a luck child - i.e. the 7th son of a 7th son being gifted with impossibly good luck and a grand destiny - is a folklore trope, and as with Margot's bit in this chapter, we get to explore the social ramifications of that folklore trope being a real, tangible, proven trend in this universe. When you take into account the fact that real-world medieval nobles were already obsessed with gaining and retaining power and wealth through their children, and then add the fact that having a seventh son of a seventh son would guarantee wealth and prestige, and you get Rodrigo's situation, where his parents REALLY want him to have at least seven kids so that one of them could push their family to new heights.

One of the things I try to avoid in my writing is the "forgotten fallen friend" trope, i.e. having a character in a serialized story who dies in a big, dramatic, story-changing manner in one installment, only to have the narrative completely forget about them in all the subsequent installments. This trope isn't necessarily a flaw/bad writing - characters are tools for the narrative to use, and once they've served their intended purpose, you are fully within your rights to discard them for the sake of keeping things trim and tidy. That said, though, there's nothing wrong about finding new uses for a tool you didn't initially intend it for - and I think that a serialized mystery story actually benefits from trying to avoid treating its cast as disposable. If you try to keep a lot of your characters around and treat them as valuable, even if they're minor, then the audience is less likely to have a "Well, obviously the new defense against the dark arts teacher is either the new bad guy this book or one of the victims of the new bad guy" moment. And a coming of age story definitely benefits from this kind of care, as the whole point of coming of age tales is to show the weight of the events that help the protagonist(s) grow up. All this preamble is to say that Polybeus bringing up Gabriev in this chapter isn't just "fanservice" or whatever - for Poly, Gabriev is still haunting the narrative, his ghost hanging over all of Polybeus's actions as he tries to process how Gabriev's death has affected him.

Serena's family is singing "The Irish Ballad" by Tom Lehrer, which I heartily recommend you look up the lyrics to and/or give it a listen. It's in the public domain like all of Tom Lehrer's music, and there's many good performances of it on youtube!

Chapter 2

Margot discovering Helseng, and subsequently arguing with James about him keeping the prophecy secret, are playful jab at the Persona games that serve as WSM's biggest influence. See, in those games the meddling kids have big supernatural plots to deal with, but the player character also has their own secret supernatural subplot that's known only to themselves - namely, their growing relationship with/mentorship by the strange inhabitants of a pocket dimension called the Velvet Room, which itself is a way to explain and explore the mechanics of the game in a way that still more or less makes sense in-universe. The player character is the only one who knows about the Velvet room because the player is the only one who can actually determine how to play the game, and thus their avatar is the only character who needs to explore those mechanics. But, from a narrative perspective, it is kind of weird that you and your friends are solving a supernatural mystery, but there's one huge supernatural thing going on that you never tell them about. The games usually have at least one moment poking fun at this, and Persona 5 subverts that separation in a really compelling way, but there's room to do more with it. And since Wizard School Mysteries is a novel series rather than an RPG, there's no reason I have to stick by the trope at play here. So yeah, our hero's secret benefactor gets found out in book 3 out of 8, and he gets (rightfully) chewed out for keeping it a secret.

In slasher movie fashion, our mystery opens with two young adults getting killed off. Now, you might be looking at the names Donnie Stoat and Hermia Ranchere and thinking to yourself, "Wait a minute, something funny is going on here." Well, here, I'll help you figure out what that funny thing is by pointing out the pattern they're a part of. See, in book 1, one of the victims of the fair folk abduction scheme was Nigel Wydbutock, a boy with an exceedingly British-sounding first name that starts with an N and ends with an L sound, and whose last name, "wide buttock," could also be parsed as, say, "fat ass," or if that's too vulgar, "long bottom." We find out later in this book Nigel did not survive his kidnapping, RIP. In book 2, we heard a story about how a student named Henry Pansley (Henry being a name that can be shortened to, among other things, "Harry" or "Hal," and "Pansley" containing the word "pan," which of course is something like a pot) accidentally killed his competitor in a wizard duel by summoning a deadly snake into the fight. Said competitor was named Wyver Wickam - Wyver being the word "wyvern," itself a synonym for the word "dragon," minus the last letter, which would make it similar to Draco, which is the word "drakon," itself an archaic synonym for the word "dragon," minus the last letter, and Wickham having the syllable "Wick," as in "wicked," which would be like having a last name with the syllable "Mal," as in "Malevolent" or "Malice." And here we have Donnie Stoat - Donnie short for Donald, a stoat being a sort of weasel - and Hermia Ranchere - Hermia being a sort of old-sounding but pleasant lady's name, and Ranch being akin to a Grange - getting the axe. What's the pattern, you might ask? Well, all these characters have silly names, that's the pattern you goof!

Chapter 3

If you read this book in one go (or at least read chapters 2 and 3 right after each other), then you'll hopefully notice that we cut directly from our mysterious killer swinging his blade down on his first victims to a blade cutting through meat in a more innocuous setting, itself a classic horror movie visual that I'm pretty proud of working out how to do in print, thank you very much.

May Shade is named after the titular monster from "The Vampire's Ghost," a somewhat obscure 1958 novelty song that I found on a Halloween playlist ages ago and remain very charmed by. I think there's humor to be had in the fact that the song that inspired her had her winning her soul from a man trying to take it through a high stakes cards game - after all, that's what Wizard School Mysteries itself is in the end.

The coven Gretchen is working plays with various tropes about witch trios in fiction, with there being a young pretty one, a plump motherly one, and a scary old one - i.e. the Maid, the Matron, and the Crone, a trinity called the Three Faces of Eve which shows up in a LOT of European mythologies and literature. Hecate, the Gray Sisters, the Fates, the Norns, the Morrigan, the Weird Sisters from Macbeth, it's a very well-worn trope.

Their names are all shortened from words related to their core sin, Sloth: Inak (inaction), Idel (Idleness), and Indol (Indolence). This extends to the name of their coven itself - Letharg as in Lethargy. The fact that their names are interchangeable and easily confused is also intentional, since ultimately they're all just variations on the same nasty person - sure, Idel is more needlessly aggressive, Indol more prone to sleazy flattery, and Inak is more serious and threatening, but at the end of the day they're more or less one awful, abusive monster.

The obscure Tarot arcana for the coven is The Fates, an alternate name for The Wheel of Fortune. Oh, hey, The Fates are one of those Three Faces of Eve examples too, what are the odds!

We get to meet the Mephistopheles to Gretchen's Dr. Faust here, and his name is Stinkbaby. There are two reasons for this obviously ludicrous name: first, imps in my setting are always saddled with ugly, common-sounding names in the style of the demons from The Screwtape Letters. Second, Stinkbaby takes the form of a cat, and any cat owner will tell you that cats always earn at least one pejorative nickname that's nonetheless said with great love and affection. "Stinkbaby" exists in the middle chunk of the Venn Diagram of "plausible Screwtape Letters OC names" and "mean nicknames for when your beloved pet cat is being a little shit."

I do a lot of references to dialogue in things I like when I write that I then forget about doing when trying to think up trivia sections like this, which I mention because there's one from this chapter I remember only because one of my editor's pointed it out to me. When Stinkbaby, the unimposing inhuman creature that's summoned from another world to tempt Gretchen to sin, arrives, he tells her that he's her "servant, friend, and willing slave," which is a reference to the song "Feed Me! (Git It?)" from Little Shop of Horrors, which is my favorite musical of all time and probably my favorite riff on the Faust story in all of fiction, both of which are high praise.

Unlike the protagonists of certain other wizard school stories, Gretchen's reaction to being given a creature that vocally professes its desire to be her slave is "Oh no" rather than "Sweet, I'm gonna tell it to make me a sandwich," and she maintains this position through the whole story, rather than coming around to say "Actually having a whole race of beings who want to be our slaves kicks ass, I was wrong!" She has and maintains this position because I thought about this plot point for more than five seconds, which I presume the writer of a certain other wizard school story did not do.

One of the other imps is named "Pussbucket" after my favorite example of "replacement for a swear word that sounds worse than the swear word" in fiction, i.e. when Peter Venkman says "Mother... Pussbucket!" in Ghostbusters when actor Bill Murray clearly wanted to say "Mother fucker!" Pussbucket is just such a wonderfully gross phrase, we should say it more to express contempt.

The four imps of the Letharg coven are all common familiar choices. We have a cat and a toad (the two familiars mentioned by the Weird Sisters in Macbeth), a rat, and a goat (a la Black Phillip from The VVitch). I wanted that authentic medieval witchcraft vibe, and figured covering the bases here would help with it.

There might be a subconscious influence from Sabrina the Teenage Witch here - while I didn't have the show in mind while writing this at all, as I write this trivia it strikes me that I did watch a lot of that show, and well... Salem is kind of a shining example of a sarcastic feline witch's familiar, isn't he?

After playing Slasher movie tropes pretty firmly with his teaser introduction in chapter 2, we completely break the rules of that genre with Buddy's more proper introduction here, presenting him in a very human and frail way that would be counter-intuitive to how a Slasher movie functions, especially this early in the plot. Which is, of course, entirely the point - this is not going to be a "meddling kids get slaughtered by the Slasher villain" story, where the lighter genre is overridden by the darker one it's crossing paths with. Instead, it's the Slasher genre whose tropes will buckle and sway under the weight of the lighter Mystery Solving Teens story they've wandered into. Jason's not cutting off Scooby Doo's head here - he's being fed soup by a plucky nerd and her sarcastic talking cat.

We also see the Faust narrative breaking here, as Gretchen, faced with every reason to indulge in vices, remains true to her morals anyway, much to her tempter's frustration. That's ultimately our villains' problem in this book - they're in the wrong genre!

Chapter 4

Like the one literary vampire who towers above all, May Shade tells her mortal acquaintance to "enter freely of your own will and leave some of the happiness you bring!"

James thinking vampires would look more decayed/rotten than May does is my nod to the fact that most European folklore vampires weren't as well preserved as modern vamps are - when a person in the middle ages writes about a "walking corpse," they're not talking about the kind that's been pumped full of preservatives to keep it from curdling like sour milk a few hours after death. May is lucky to be a vampire inspired by the more modern takes, but as we'll see later in the book, that's not universally true for all the different types of vampires in Midgaheim.

I hope the joke of May Shade, a vampire, saying that the name Helseng (Helsing) "doesn't ring a bell" lands with you. "Van Helsing? Never heard of 'em," is a funny thing for a vampire to say in my personal opinion.

There's also a bit of irony in May, a vampire, coming to (a) Helseng's (Helsing's) defense. But hopefully it's not too surprising - vampires, especially the shapeshifting kind like May, would know too well how it feels to be a creature that has to disguise their true nature among people in order to interact with them.

You know how in the fourth Henry Pansley story he's forced to participate in a big life-threatening tournament against his will, yet still inexplicably goes out of his way to try and win each challenge just because people pressure him into it? Yeah, James Chaucer wouldn't put up with that shit. He would throw every event that didn't involve saving people's lives, just beef it entirely on purpose while flipping people the bird. One thing I wanted to make clear about him is that helping people and unraveling evil plots is something James chooses to do, regardless of whether or not someone else told him to do so first - even when it comes to Helseng's prophecy, recall that James was given the prophecy ONLY when he confirmed he wanted to hear it. That's why Gernderf's RA plot succeeds in snaring him where previous attempts failed - James isn't motivated by "Go beat up this guy because I told you he's bad," but "These people need help and you might be the only one who can do it for them" might just work.

Ladislava "Good Lad" Chopin is our Temperance Arcana, and like many of the Arcana characters in this series she doesn't quite embody the full nature of her card yet. It's a shame for her that the Heavenly Virtue that remained in the Tarot arcana was Temperance instead of Diligence, because she'd have the latter in the bag easily. Temperance, however, she struggles with, although in the opposite direction than most stories might go - rather than being someone who pursues pleasure over necessity, she's someone who over-works instead, which was a fatal flaw that too many I knew in college suffered from (myself included at least a few times). It's kind of easy to recognize when you're slacking off and letting your responsibilities slide, even if you don't want to do anything about it - but it's a lot harder, in my experience, to realizing you're working yourself to exhaustion and heaping unhealthy amounts of stress on yourself trying to live up to an impossible standard. So, for the sake of overachievers like my past self, let's hope Lad listens to the good advice of her friends and stops overworking herself... and that James realizes that his advice should also apply to himself, honestly, and also to Gretchen, and... look maybe a LOT of people deserve to give themselves a few more breaks, actually.

Chapter 5

The title of this chapter is, obviously, a medieval-ish riff on Friday the 13th and its many sequels.

Ok, so, obviously Buddy isn't just a riff on slashers in general, but Jason Voorhees specifically - his first kill is even by a lake. One of the reasons Jason is my favorite of the Big Name slashers is that he has so much pathos in his backstory, even if the nature of his genre keeps that from being explored in any amount of depth. Here's a person with the mind of a child and the body of a monster, who suffered a near-death experience at the hands of negligent childcare providers, who witnessed his mother being decapitated for trying to avenge his supposed death, and who has dedicated his life to making sure that no other kids or mothers die to that same negligence, to the point where he rises from the grave to keep up that crusade. That's honestly deeply tragic, and in any other horror genre it'd be ripe for exploring in depth. There's potential in Jason to be as complicated and melancholy a figure as the Frankenstein monster or the Phantom of the Opera, but because Slasher movies are built to be focused on hedonistic thrills and catharsis, all that tragedy is little more than flavoring for violent set pieces. But if you took that same character concept and put it into a different genre, well, you'd have a character who's not really Jason Voorhees anymore, but explores what Jason could be, and I think that's fun.

Buddy's stock slasher powers of nigh-invulnerability and tendency to teleport to where the story needs him to be to surprise the audience and menace his victims work pretty well with the stock abilities of ghost, I feel.

Buddy's first fight with the Youths is meant to show that, for all the maddening power they have at their disposal, they're still vulnerable - hopefully without feeling too cheap, either. I wanted this fight to illustrate why Occult and Arcane powers differ - the youths keep using attacks that damage physical matter, but Buddy, by dint of being a ghost, can weather that pretty easily. You can't kill what's already dead, and you can't trap something in a crystal if it can easily phase through walls and other physical barriers.

His clash with Margot, specifically, is meant to be a sly nod to Freddy vs. Jason - a big, masked monster with a cleaver-bladed sword clashing with someone who has a glove tipped with metal claws and an association with fire.

Oh hey, Margot used another one liner her friends suggested in The Meddlesome Youths! Guess that just leaves Gretchen's suggestion of "Abra ca-fuck you!"

Kane Hodder, the actor who played Jason the most times, was adamant that Jason doesn't hurt animals or kids, and Buddy takes that rule to a logical (in my mind) extreme - namely that, as an undead brute with the mind of a child, he thinks big animals are really cool, which is why his first instinct when confronted by a fire-breathing dragon is to try and pet it.

Chapter 6

Gretchen giving Buddy a name, and this in turn being the key to breaking him free of the coven, has a sort of metatextual layer to it. See, Jason Voorhees and his predecessor, Michael Myers, were made in the mold of the anonymous killers of early slasher/exploitation horror films. No one remembers the name of the killers in Pieces or Black Christmas, because their names aren't important - their personalities aren't important, because, despite being mundane human killers, they aren't characters in the narrative so much as forces of conflict, being less humanized than monsters like Dracula or Frankenstein. Jason and Michael were meant to work that way too, but the combination of names, iconic costume designs, and backstories with actual pathos made them both into characters despite the intention not to do so. And both franchises realized this and tried to swerve away from it, each trying to get rid of their iconic slashers with an entry that shifted to a different killer - and in each case, audiences hated those attempts and demanded they get their beloved slasher characters back. A name, iconic look, and backstory kept Jason from being a truly inhuman killer and made him irreplaceable - so too does it give Buddy more humanity than his in-universe creators intended.

The description of Marquise Shax provided by Serena's library book is adapted from his entry in The Lesser Key of Solomon, with a few additions to make his relevance to this story more obvious. The dramatic irony of Serena figuring out the devil behind the Letharg coven well before getting any proof of his involvement is hopefully pretty juicy.

The mcguffin Lord Dhenregirr is looking for in this book, the Eye of Errgonogad, is named after The Eye of Argon, one of the most notoriously bad fantasy books ever written. The titular eye of argon was a "red emerald," which, given the fact that Lord Dhenregirr is a very loose parody of Voldemort, would make the Eye of Errgonogad a loose equivalent of the Sorcerer's/Philosopher's Stone. Poor bastard's three books into this series and he still hasn't gotten the first book's mcguffin.

James calling Dhenregirr's crew the "bone brigade" is a reference to the I Think You Should Leave skit about Ebeneezer Scrooge fighting evil skeletons from the Christmas Waaaaay Future. Frickin' Bonies!

It's kind of funny that Lord Dhenregirr gives James a concise and informative lesson on necromancy - a topic that the AAAM purposely refuses to cover - in the ruins of a near identical castle to the AAAM, while sitting in a throne made of broken podiums. Probably means nothing.

Chapter 7

I'm not sure if people caught Polybeus's many ignored attempts to flirt with Gretchen in the first two books, but they were there! His one-sided crush was based on the popular fan-interpretation of Wyver Wickham Draco Malfoy having a crush on Hermia Ranchere Hermione - and, like most elements of the Henry Pansley stories I homaged in WSM, I was more inspired by the Very Potter Musical parody take than the actual text of the Terf Queen's books.

I want every book in this series to have at least one chapter that's basically a stupid adventure college kids would get up to if they had magic. The first book had kids riding a magic carpet off a roof, the second had the needlessly gendered night out, and this one has the magic school equivalent of urban exploring: seeking out and making a daytrip to the land of the dead.

The shades in the land of the dead are inspired by the blood-sucking ghosts of the same name from Homer's The Odyssey and, you know, by extension Greek Mythology in general. The revenants are there because I love Romero-style shambling zombies, and also because I wanted to establish in-universe that James had a good reason to think vampires were often more corpse-y than May Shade.

Chapter 8

Readers of No Sympathies might recognize some familiar elements in Stinkbaby's description of Hell. Yep, it's the same Hell alright!

The punishment dolled out by Dis, the circle of Lust, is based on the Twilight Zone episode "A Nice Place to Visit."

This is the second WSM book to include a paraphrase from Wizard People, Dear Reader, and that paraphrase happens in this very chapter! Can you find it?

I would like it on the record that I debated very intensely with myself about whether or not to show the transphobia of the Letharg coven in their treatment of Gretchen, up to and including getting one of my trans friends to look it over as a sensitivity reader. The intent was not to be exploitative, but rather to 1. show how the coven will jump on any reason they can find to dehumanize Gretchen so they can feel justified exploiting her, and 2. to make it abundantly clear that yes, Gretchen IS trans, since apparently some readers were in doubt about this during the first two books. I also think that, in our current climate, there is something very topical about an all-female organization that claims to empower its members actually preying upon the youth. The coven are, more or less, trans-exclusive radical feminists.

It's hard to make it clear in text, but my fancast for minor character Professor Romero Medina is Vincent Price.

Perhaps you've noticed that the staff of the AAAM seem much less callous towards students in this book than they did in the first. That was intentional! In my personal experience, your first year of college is kind of isolating - most of the gen ed classes you'll be taking are big lecture halls filled with hundreds of kids, and the professors cannot devote themselves to every student to the degree that public school teachers can as a result, which makes them seem like they don't care about you. The fact that college teachers aren't penalized for students failing to the same degree as public school teachers also adds to this - a public school teacher HAS to try and intervene when a student is floundering in their class (or at least fake it enough to keep plausible deniability) or they'll face severe consequences, while college professors don't really - pass or fail, the college has your money already, so it's on YOU to care about your success. But just because college professors don't have those public school incentives to care doesn't mean they won't - as I went on in my college career, I met plenty of professors who did care a lot, who looked out for me and reached out to try and help me succeed (and more than a few who tried to sway me to major in their subject instead of the one I was already pursuing - I had one teacher who REALLY wanted me to become a linguist, and to be fair, I did name one of WSM's most prominent teachers after two linguistic terms). Romero Medina enters the scene seeming like he'll be cold and cruel, and narrative convention makes us fear he has some bad news for Gretchen, but instead we're surprised that he's actually here to try and give her a break. The system may not incentivize kindness, but that doesn't mean kindness isn't there regardless.

On a lighter note, acting like complete jackasses with your friends in the college cafeterias is ALSO based on my personal college experiences.

Most of the RA requests are references to fantasy media, some very popular, some obscure. Can you figure them out?

The student who fucked up twisting time and space and ended up a desiccated corpse is not a reference to anything, he's just a fun reminder that Magic Can Fucking Kill You.

Loxy Reynard exists because, as the age of the internet well and truly proves, if you could magically modify your appearance, some people WILL choose to be furries, and to deny this is to deny the truth of humanity. As for why she dealt with pervert toilets...

The "wildman" student is a Sasquatch, specifically. What's he doing in Midgaheim? That's his business. What are you, a cop?

Buddy's first words to James being "Ki... ki... ma... ma..." is a reference to the classic music sting of the Friday the 13th franchise - while people often write it out as "ch ch ch ah ah ah," it's actually "ki ki ki ma ma ma," and is meant to be a sort of ghostly version of Pamela Voorhees's madness mantra of "Kill them, mommy, kill them!" Kill kill kill, mom mom mom

When you have the chance to make a gargoyle and a Jason Voorhees knockoff fight, you fucking take it.

Chapter 9

If you've been paying attention, you might have noticed a slowly growing subplot that the homunculi servants of the AAAM might not be treated well. The next book is going to deal with this in earnest, and if you're worried, please no the solution won't be "Hermione shut up no one cares, they like being slaves anyway."

Mordobearns are not a pre-existing mythological entity, but rather a TT original creation. Their name is a sloppy portmanteau of the Old English words for "death" and "child" - literal Murder Babies. That's a good enough name for a species of Jason Voorhees ripoffs.

Everyone's disgust at what's involved in creating a mordobearn hopefully underlines the pathos inherent to characters like Jason and Buddy that's so often ignored. Like, if you actually stop to think about it, they're very much victims in this too!

Stinkbaby's big out-of-body experience with Gretchen is a reference to Faust - specifically the scenes where Mephistopheles shows Dr. Faust the natural world, and in particular the versions where he shows Faust the planets. I like that scene because it shows why all demons in the Ars Goetia and the like would have "can teach various earth sciences to the summoner" in their list of skills. My take is also sort of a subversion of that scene, though - where Mephistopheles showed Faust the universe to ensure the doctor would succumb to temptation, here Stinkbaby, who is accidentally being tempted to do good by Gretchen's continued kindness, shows her the universe in an attempt to comfort her and strengthen her resolve.

Chapter 10

The title of this chapter is a riff on "The Man Behind the Mask," a rock song that was specifically written about/for Jason Voorhees himself.

So, ok, on one level the way the youths convince Buddy to stand down is a meta-commentary on the way the character he's inspired by is shackled by genre conventions - the pathos is there, but he's kept from embracing it, and thus we don't get to explore it, because the demands of his creators and their plans for him to be their killing machine keep him chained away from character growth. By focusing on the pathos built into his character and removing the constraints of the spell that made him (i.e. the Slasher genre), our slasher is free to be Buddy.

This is also very much a Persona 4 kind of climactic scene - the big bad villain has a final stand with our plucky heroes, who've learned his tactics and figured out how to get past his strengths so they can talk him down, at which point the "villain" exposes their vulnerabilities and realizes they don't have to be a monster they thought they were doomed to be. Again, in a meta context, this is redemption by way of genre change - the slasher wandered into a mystery solving teens story and ended up getting the psychiatric help he needed.

Chapter 11

God it was fun to write a demon fucking shit up again.

There were a number of reasons I chose Shax for this book, but one of them was that I wanted to draw a Skeksi-ish monster, and his description made me think he'd fit the bill.

Originally Shax was planned to be from Gehenna, i.e. the ring of sloth, since the extended metaphor of the conflict here is "unpaid student internships = a Faustian bargain," and the core evil at the heart of real life unpaid internships is very much sloth. A company has a bunch of mindless grunt work to do, and rather than pay someone a decent wage to do it, they trick gullible young people into doing it for free under the lie that it will give them valuable knowledge about their chosen field and help them get a better job later on. But, like, it's not just sloth, is it? If it was just laziness, people might, like, notice and get the law to do something to stop it. No, the reason this practice stays around is because it also gives a financial incentive to employers who use it - the free labor allows them to pinch some valuable pennies to pass up to the CEOs, after all. Sloth may be the main sin at the heart of unpaid internships, but Greed is what facilitates them and makes them a sustainable act of cruelty. So it is in Gretchen's pact - the deal may have been brokered by Slothful humans and masterminded by a high ranking demon of Sloth, but it takes a demon of Greed (and several of his own underpaid henchmen) to actually make the scheme work.

Chapter 12

I enjoyed writing the conversation about culturally specific psychopomps in this chapter. I think it's neat that so many cultures not only decided there must be a life after death, but that there'd also be at least one guy whose main purpose was to help you find your way around there. I also think psychopomps just make for inherently interesting characters - like the devil, they personify something humans naturally obsess over, in this case being the most primal fear of all creatures. How you personify that concept says a lot about you and your view of the world, in my opinion. It's always fertile story-telling ground.

See, I told you Gabriev was haunting the narrative!

He's not the only one, either. James hasn't forgotten Laurel Creusa, despite only knowing her for the span of one short conversation. Again, just because a character served their intended purpose for the narrative doesn't mean that has to be the ONLY purpose they can serve.

Insert joke about me airing my infatuation with Hela on tumblr here

Chapter 13

I had a LOT of fun working with the blending of the different mythological afterlifes in this book - a Christian demon haggling with Norse and Greco-Roman death gods for a mortal soul in a bureaucratic clusterfuck is just so amusing to me. Poor bastard can't get his damned soul through customs!

The title of this chapter is a play on The Devil and Daniel Webster, and in turn a play on the many parodies of/homages to that play, such as The Devil and Daniel Mouse. The plot of this chapter is a riff on it too, actually - our heroes organize a trial for their friend's soul, with all sorts of supernatural creatures providing the rest of the court staff.

And we get the reveal of Helseng's true nature as an Angel of Death!

Her Tarot Arcana is very fitting, no?

If you look closely at the cover of this book, you might spot Helseng's true self hiding in the trees. You didn't even know you were looking at a spoiler the whole time, did you?

Her full/true name, Helsengel, has two layers to it. First, it ends in "el," which is true of most Abrahamic angel names, and basically means her name ends in "of God." For example, Archangel Michael's name can be translated as "Gift of God." Of course, "Helseng" doesn't mean anything in particular, so her name is just "Helseng of God," which is pretty funny - but when you say her name out loud, it sort of sounds like "Hell's Angel," which isn't really meaningful for Helseng (she is, despite appearances, very much an angel of Heaven - though I suppose her work as a psychopomp requires her to deliver some clients to Hell every now and then), but is a fun little thing to note.

Helsengel specifies that she is a "blue death" for a number of metanarrative reasons in addition to just the in-story need for exposition about how diverse psychopomps in this setting are. Ok, so: the main inspiration for this series, the Persona game series, has a recurring supernatural figure named Igor who helps the protagonist of each game deal with the various supernatural bullshit on their plate. Igor lives in "the velvet room," which changes its appearance and style to fit each game's theme, but always has a monochromatic blue color scheme. This is a reference to Edgar Allen Poe's The Masque of the Red Death (which, unrelatedly, is my favorite of Poe's stories), and not the only one the Persona game series makes for that. In The Masque of the Red Death, the titular masque takes place in a castle with several themed rooms, each of which has a monochromatic color scheme. The blue room is the first, followed by purple, green, orange, white, violet, and finally, breaking the scheme, a black room with red trimmings lit by red light. The red death, meanwhile, is a plague, but also is personified in the play as a very grim psychopomp, which deals a fatal justice to the corrupt partiers after being exposed in the black and red rood. When Roger Corman adapted this story into a feature film, one idea he incorporated was that the other room colors ALSO had a plague/psychopomp associated with them, showing up at the end to talk with the Red Death before going off to their business. So Helseng, who fills Igor's role as the helper of the protagonist in WSM, doesn't quite have a velvet room of her own, but she does make reference to The Masque of the Red Death by being the (or rather a - there are too many people, and too many psychopomps, for Helseng to be the ONLY one in this world) Blue Death to the Masque's Red.

Keen-eyed readers who've seen the colored Tarot cards might notice something about Gretchen's illustration now:

Who is the mysterious Archduchess of Gehenna? Hmm, seems like a mystery. At wizard school, no less.

In my little mythos, Pyschopomps/angels of death like Helseng are specifically considered angels of Diligence, the Heavenly Virtue that is considered the counterpart and antithesis to the Deadly Sin of Sloth. Because psychopomps have a LOT of work on the mortal plane to do, you see - as Discworld's personification of Death would note, they're all about The Duty. Now, notably, Ignorance, i.e. the failure to learn important information that could help yourself and others due to one's own choice not to put the effort in, is considered a sin of sloth. What is the antithesis of Ignorance, then? Well, I think one would argue it's Education. And so we have two big forces controlling this narrative behind the scenes: an angel of Diligence, and a demon of Sloth... or, perhaps, a champion of Education vs. a villain of Ignorance. (I probably shouldn't spell out my themes like this - takes the fun away from other people - but I've been hiding this plot development since before the first book came out, allow me to gush).

Also, given that Temperance is one of the major arcana, and an early Tarot set also included Charity in the roster, I wonder if all the seven heavenly virtues were in the game at one point - and for that matter, maybe the sins were too? Something to ponder.

Gretchen finally figuring out the HRT spell and revealing her face for the first time hit me hard when I wrote it - fully had me crying while typing, truly embarrassing. Hopefully it landed well for you too!

Chapter 14

After all the shit he's gone through, I can think of no child who deserves to get to routinely ride a dragon than Buddy.

More seriously: my dad pointed out to me that a common trend in movies aimed at kids for my generation and those after it was the young protagonist getting to ride some sort of big, flying creature. You have the kid riding Marahute the eagle in Rescuers Down Under, Henry Pansley riding a hippogriff in the third Herbie Porber movie (you know, the third entry in that wizard school series that was oddly spookier than the rest), Hiccup riding Toothless, etc. It's a pretty striking visual thrill for kids, isn't it? I thought it'd be nice to give it to Buddy to show that despite everything, he's gonna be ok.

A recurring trend of Gretchen's life before this book is people reaching out to her and her attempting to push them away out of the joint fear that 1. they're only pretending to like her and secretly hate her and 2. they only like her because she's accidentally tricked them into thinking she's a good person. As of the end of this book, she's finally accepting that people may genuinely like her and allowing herself to be loved, which is why it was important to me to bring back the subplot of the book club that wanted her to join. She's letting people love her - she's no longer afraid to show her face. Gretchen's going to be ok.

If you're wondering why most and possibly all of my Meddlesome Youths have intense self loathing and anxiety about not being worth a damn as human beings, well... that's certainly not based on my own psychological problems. Certainly not. I don't have imposter syndrome, no sir.

Keep an eye on that Ikarus Dactylus. A kid like that is liable to reach heights we've never hope to achieve. I mean, he stopped the dark lord from getting the philosopher's stone - err, Eye of Errgonogad!

And so we end with Rodrigo and Ivan about to pursue career paths, James and pals set to figure out whether the homunculi are being exploited, and Gernderf and James understanding each other better while still lying to each other's faces. There are still more mysteries to solve - good thing we have five more books!

#Wizard School Mysteries

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magicalsniper · 6 months ago

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The Legacy of Magic

2746 words | Teen | Part 5 of 7 Author's AO3: MagicalSniper Story Link: The Legacy of Magic Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Summary: Balinor, summoned by Uther to negotiate with the Great Dragon Kilgharrah, witnesses the devastating aftermath of the Great Purge of Magic and is forced to escape Camelot, leaving behind a pregnant Hunith. Years later, his son Merlin, who struggles to conceal his magic, becomes fast friends with Prince Arthur. Their bond is tested when Arthur learns the truth about Merlin’s magic, but his loyalty to Merlin remains steadfast, though their relationship is marred by the weight of secrets and struggles for the safety of magic users in Camelot.

The One Where Merlin's Secrets Unravel The voices swirled in Merlin’s head, a cacophony of panic and distress that yanked him from his self-pity session. He froze as they clouded his mind, a frown creasing his brow as he tried to make heads or tails of what he was hearing.

“Emrys!” That was one of the younger druids.

“Merlin, stay away!” That was his father’s frantic voice.

Merlin set off towards the at a breakneck sprint, the mossy earth beneath his boots giving way to the frantic pounding of his heart. As he neared the druid camp, the smell of smoke and blood stung his nostrils, and his chest tightened at the sight before him as he broke through the trees.

He watched in horror as the Knights of Camelot, clad in their gleaming armour and bloodred cloaks, terrorised the druids. Tents were set ablaze, and the air rang with the clash of steel and cries of the men defending the camp. Merlin took little relief that women, children, and those not doing any magic seemed to be spared.

"Father!" Merlin called out; his voice lost amidst the chaos. His eyes darted across the devastation, searching desperately for Balinor. His father's wise and imposing figure was nowhere to be seen, and an icy fear gripped him. He could see some of the other elders of the camp at the far end, fighting off Leon and someone else Merlin could not identify from his position.

He peered from behind the safety of a sturdy oak and spotted a group of younger druids cornered by knights, their escape cut off.

Unable to help himself, a mischievous grin tugged at his lips, and Merlin extended a hand, fingers tracing invisible threads of magic in the air. With a flick of his wrist, a burst of energy sent a knight’s helmet spinning like a top into the sky, followed by the bewildered knight tumbling backwards into a rather undignified heap. Merlin couldn’t help but snicker. The knight was one of Uther’s, as cruel as he was ugly… and he was very ugly.

“Take that, Iseldir,” the boy had snarled playfully as he gestured wildly, sending more knights scattering like started pigeons. “I can take down many men at once.” I just learned it from a sorcerous with a lousy aim… oh, that would have killed with Arthur! Merlin thought with a snicker.

The diversion worked, and the young druids seized the moment to dart into the forest. As they disappeared, Merlin couldn’t help but puff out his chest a bit. There was something immensely satisfying about watching burly men in armour realise they were no match for a skinny sorcerer with unruly hair and a knack for trouble.

"Oops," he exclaimed as another knight found himself relieved of his sword, which now dangled comically from a tree branch overhead just out of jumping reach. "You might want to work on your grip there, Sir Clumsy!"

Still, as much fun as it was to play tricks on the knights, Merlin knew this was no game. The lives of his people hung in the balance, and he couldn't rest until they were safe from harm—even if it meant putting himself squarely in it against Camelot’s finest. With a deep breath, he stepped fully from the treeline. "Come on, then," Merlin said, squaring his shoulders. "Let's see what Camelot’s bravest has got up those chainmail sleeves."

"Enough of this!" bellowed the lead knight, veins bulging in his neck as he pointed towards the figures fleeing into the forest. "After them!"

Merlin's eyes narrowed and with a determined sweep of his arm, an invisible wall shimmered into existence—a forcefield as sturdy as the stones of Camelot itself. The knights, charging headlong, collided with it and fell back, bewildered and groaning.

“Stop this at once!” The command was more a plea than an order, desperation threading the lead knight’s voice.

"Ah, but you see," Merlin retorted, eyes glinting dangerously, "that would be terribly inconvenient for me." With a casual flicker of golden energy from his gaze, the knights around them slumped to the ground, unconscious before they realised what had happened. "You’re the one that needs to stop this."

Momentarily, the battlefield's chaos felt distant as Merlin's gaze locked onto a familiar figure. Time seemed to stretch and slow, swords clashing, becoming a distant echo. There, amidst the turmoil, stood Arthur—his armour dented, his expression one of deep confusion and betrayal.

"Arthur..." Merlin whispered, heart twisting with a mixture of relief and dread. Even as the world crumbled around them, his friend's safety was his first concern; his keen eyes scanned for any sign of injury on the prince's body.

"Merlin?" Arthur's voice cut through the stillness, sharp with disbelief. But Merlin could only offer him a rueful smile, the kind that said, 'We'll laugh about this later... if there is a later.'

"Nice of you to join the party," Merlin joked weakly, trying to mask the gravity of the situation. "Fashionably late as always, you clotpole."

Arthur stood, mouth working as he tried to process his disbelief, before his eyes darkened and growled. “MERLIN!” His voice cracked like a whip across the field as he stormed through the fallen knights towards him. “What are you doing here!?”

Merlin’s heart pounded against his ribs, and he bit his lip. He tried to come up with an explanation, but he came up short. He steeled himself, realising that the only thing he could do was tell the truth. “I’m protecting my people,” he said, the truth ringing clear even if every part of his body seemed to quiver.

“Your people?” Arthur spat, his confusion giving away to anger. His sword hand twitched, but the weapon remained sheathed. “Camelot’s people are your people! How could you do this to me, Merlin? To us?”

A dark chuckle escaped Merlin’s lips. “Do this to you? God, Arthur, you’re so blind.” He shook his head; the world seemed to tilt on its axis. All he could think about was what he would do now. He had to get his mother out of Camelot.

“Excuse me?”

“Magic is who I am!” Merlin said, burst out, his hands trembling as he held back the urge to allow his magic free. “I could move objects before I was out of the womb, Arthur, the womb! So don’t you dare act like this is something I did to you!”

Arthur stood unmoved, his jaw clenched. But there was something new in his gaze—a dawning realisation.

“Merlin, I—”

"Let me finish," Merlin cut him off. "We have a huge problem. I am going to have to leave Camelot… which I can handle because if it's a choice between Camelot and my magic, I will choose my magic. I am nothing without magic. But Arthur, what’s worse is that I am nothing without you.” Merlin stuttered out a breath. “What am I supposed to do with that?”

There it was, laid bare between them—the core of Merlin's soul, raw and vulnerable.

"Until now, I thought the same about you," Arthur admitted, his voice a mere whisper. A pained look crossed his features, a battle raging within. And then, the resolve in his eyes crumbled, replaced by an emotion Merlin had seldom seen: heartbreak.

"Arthur…" Tears welled up, blurring Merlin's vision as he gazed upon his friend.

"Enough," Arthur muttered, sounding every bit the defeated and wartorn prince. He reached out, grasping Merlin's hand as he dragged him towards where the knights had left their horses. "Just get on the horse, Merlin."

He hauled Merlin onto the horse behind him, their bodies close in a way that belied the turmoil roiling in their hearts. "And wake them up," Arthur added, a final command laced with resignation.

Merlin nodded, his fingers brushing the air as subtle magic weaved around the unconscious knights. One by one, they stirred, groaning, as memory and awareness eluded them like shadows at dusk.

As their steed trotted away from the destruction, Merlin wrapped his arms loosely around Arthur's waist. The silence enveloping them was a stark contrast to their usual banter.

~o0o~

“Merlin, not that it isn’t great to see you, but where did you come from?” Sir Leon’s voice cut through the silence, thick with confusion as he rubbed his temple.

“Ah, well,” Merlin began, his mind racing for a plausible explanation that didn’t involve forbidden magic or secret identities. "I was—um, in the forest. Searching for... rare herbs! Yes, for Gaius." His voice faltered, and he cursed his ineptitude at deceit. Even Arthur, as angry as he was, had snorted in derision at that. Really, it was a miracle that Merlin kept his magic secret as long as he had.

"Herbs?" Sir Leon furrowed his brow, scepticism clear in his tone.

"Very rare," Merlin pressed on, hoping his nervous chuckle sounded convincing. "You wouldn't believe the lengths I go for Gaius' potions."

The knights exchanged glances, still disoriented, but they seemed to accept Merlin's rambling. Arthur said nothing, his jaw set, hands firm on the reins as they rode.

The horse's steady rhythm was the only sound between them, the clinking of armour and the soft thud of hooves against the earth starkly contrasting with the din of battle they'd left behind.

Merlin's grip on Arthur's waist was tentative as if afraid too strong a hold might shatter whatever fragile bond remained. He could feel Arthur's muscles tense beneath his touch, and Merlin did all he could to ensure he touched him as little as possible.

Arthur's conflict was palpable; his loyalty to Camelot and ingrained prejudice against magic clashed violently with his friendship with Merlin. Every fibre of his being had been taught to despise what Merlin represented, yet here he was, unsure if he would be able to sever the ties that bound them.

Merlin, too, was caught in the throes of his own struggle. The fear of losing Arthur's trust battled fiercely with the relief of finally revealing his true self. He had always known this day might come, but the reality was more painful than he'd anticipated.

As they approached the outskirts of Camelot, the scenery shifted. Barley and rye fields swayed gently in the breeze, a tranquil sight that did little to ease the tension between the two friends. The setting sun cast long shadows across the land, mirroring the darkening uncertainty in both their hearts.

Merlin couldn't help but let out a small, rueful laugh. "If only hiding my magic was as easy as playing hide-and-seek with your favourite goblet," he muttered under his breath, the sarcasm a feeble attempt to lighten the mood.

Arthur's response was a quiet sigh, the unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. They were approaching a crossroads—not just the literal one leading to the castle gates, but also an emotional and moral divide threatening to change everything.

The castle loomed ahead, its grey towers casting long, sombre shadows over the field of flowers that surrounded it. The heavy gates creaked open, allowing Arthur and Merlin passage through the thick walls of Camelot. The familiar clang of metal and murmur of voices greeted them, but the sounds felt distant to Merlin, muffled by the din of his own thoughts.

"Go home," Arthur instructed tersely, dismounting his steed with an air of royal authority that seemed forced in the presence of his confidant. "Wait for me there."

Merlin nodded, sliding off the horse with less grace than usual. He could feel the weight of the castle's many eyes upon him, but their stares were nothing compared to the penetrating gaze of his friend—the prince who now grappled with betrayal and loyalty in equal measure.

Merlin rushed home, nearly tripping over himself to get up the stairs. He startled Gaius and Hunith as he slammed the door open to the Phsycian’s Chambers and closed it behind himself. He fell to the floor in a heap and hid his face into his knees, unable to stop the sobs that burst forth.

“Merlin, what happened?” Hunith rushed over to her son and knelt beside him, her gentle hand rubbing his back. “Why aren’t you with your father?

Merlin stuttered out what happened at the druid camp, causing Hunith and Gaius’s blood to run cold.

It would seem that only Gaius was thinking clearly, for he sprang into action, reaching up in one of his cabinets to pull out a leather bag. “We must be quick. There’s no telling what will happen once word spreads.”

“But… Arthur told me to stay here.”

“I’m sorry, love, we can’t risk it,” Hunith said sadly, leaning down to kiss his head. She jumped up and went into his room to gather his clothes from the cabinet and brought them into the room, quickly packing them into the bag. “We will send you back to the druid camp until we figure out the next steps. You’ll be safe there.” She grabbed a handful of potions and placed them between the clothes to keep them safe.

"Take this," she said, passing Merlin a small bundle. "It's not much, but there is a spell on it that will keep people from noticing you as long as they aren’t looking directly at you.."

"Thanks, Mother," Merlin replied, the corners of his mouth lifting in a melancholy smile as his fingers brushed against the soft fabric.

"Promise me you'll eat," she said, her voice laced with motherly concern, brushing his hair back from his eyes.

"Only if you promise not to fuss over empty chairs and unused cauldrons," Merlin quipped, managing a grin despite the thunderous sorrow in his heart.

Gaius laughed, "Ah, I'd rather have an untidy room than an empty one. But alas, tidiness seems to be part of your escape plan." He handed Merlin a leather pouch bulging with vials. "I've included a sleeping draught; it may be useful, especially on nights when the mind is too restless."

"Restless? With my penchant for trouble, I expect to be asleep before my head hits the ground," Merlin retorted, the mischief in his eyes briefly pushing back the veil of fear that clouded them.

Hunith reached out, gently adjusting the cloak draped around Merlin's shoulders. "You always were too clever by half," she murmured, her hands trembling slightly. "Just remember, cleverness can't replace caution."

The room was filled with the heavy silence of unspoken goodbyes, the kind that lingered like evening mist—felt more than heard. Merlin swallowed hard, feeling the weight of their gazes, the weight of a future shrouded in shadows.

"If any of you need me," he said, the words catching in his throat, "just...send an enchanted pigeon or something. I'll come flying. Well, not literally flying. Not yet, anyway."

"Merlin," Hunith cautioned, though her lips twitched in a reluctant smile.

"Right, no flying. Subtlety is key," Merlin corrected himself, his own smile bittersweet.

"Indeed," Gaius agreed, his eyes sparkling with unshed tears. "And remember, a sorcerer's greatest strength lies not in the magic at his fingertips but in the love and loyalty within his heart."

"Then I am armed to the teeth," Merlin declared, his confidence a fragile facade they all chose to believe in.

"Go now," Hunith urged her voice firm despite the tremor that threatened to break through. "Before it's too late." She pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Be careful, my boy.”

"Careful is my middle name," Merlin lied, pulling away with a brave smile. With one last look around the room, his sanctuary, Merlin stepped out into the corridor.

The castle was quiet. The torches cast long shadows on the walls, their flickering light painting a picture of fleeting normality. He could hear the distant clatter of the night watch changing guard, a reminder of the urgency of his departure.

"Right, off I go then. To boldly sneak where no wizard has snuck before," he murmured to himself, creeping along the corridor with an exaggerated tiptoe. He couldn't help but chuckle at the absurdity of it all—the most powerful warlock in the land, skulking about like a naughty child.

As he made his way toward the stables, Merlin's mind raced with thoughts of Arthur, Camelot, and the uncertain path ahead. But somewhere, deep down, beneath the worry and the fear, there was a spark of hope—a belief that, somehow, everything would turn out alright.

After all, he thought with a smirk, I am Merlin. Trouble follows me like a lovesick puppy. I might as well make the most of it.

Part Six

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crimsonedquill · 1 year ago

Text

Two Snakes And A Badger: Chapter I

Pairing: Imelda Reyes x f!MC, Poppy Sweeting x f!MC, hints of Imelda Reyes x Poppy Sweeting

Summary: Being in a healthy, loving relationship with the Captain of Slytherin's Quidditch team doesn't leave much to be desired. But when MC realises her best friend has feelings for her too, things get a little... complicated.

Word count: 10.5k

Content warning: NSFW (18+). Minors DNI. Smut, cunnilingus, fingering, light dom!Imelda, hints of dom!MC, Poppy having a voyeurism kink, fluff, lots of feels, lots of angst, confusion about feelings

A/N: So, this is a fic I’ve been wanting to write for a while, and a couple of weeks ago I finally managed to summon the combined powers of the universe to actually start writing it. I decided not to stick to a target word count this time and just let things run wild, so that’s why it’s split up into multiple chapters 🙏

This chapter is mostly setting the stage and exploring MC’s relationship with Imelda and Poppy, but eventually things are expected to move towards a Imelda x MC x Poppy pairing (and I honestly couldn’t be more excited lol)

I really don’t know what else to put here so go on and enjoy this entirely self-indulgent feels fest I guess

“Oh, Merlin.”

A strained cry left your lips as you bucked your hips, nails digging into your naked breast while your other hand tangled into the hair of the girl kneeling in front of you. Imelda let out a chuckle, briefly withdrawing her tongue from your folds to flash you a smile that was glazed with your essence.

“Good girl…” she purred, no, growled before plunging back into your warm depths, causing you to whimper in pleasure.

You had more or less known what to expect when you started dating Slytherin’s Quidditch Captain, though in fairness, you’d had no way of knowing just how insatiable she was. Sometimes it seemed like you couldn’t go a minute without having her tongue or fingers inside of you, doing things that often left you unable to walk upright for days after. Not that you particularly minded. If anything, it was even a little flattering, the way your body worked on her like an aphrodisiac; drawing her to you like a moth to a flame. Besides, your orgasms had never been better.

Speaking of which, you suddenly felt a telltale quivering deep inside your pussy, warm numbness spreading from your core to your inner thighs, your breath shallowing at the utter perfection of the feeling. Dark eyes shot up to look at you, trapping you in their devilish gaze as Imelda continued slurping away, clearly having no intention of delaying your release any further. You counted yourself lucky; she usually wasn’t so generous, having found a particular kink in the sound of your begging.

“Oh… oh, fuck,”

You cried, throwing your head back, her muffled groans only giving you a clue as to the filth she would be talking to you right now if she could. You would have been perfectly fine with being scolded to your climax, but right now you wanted nothing more than to just come, to reward your girlfriend with the sweet nectar she was so desperately craving. Sure enough, soon your walls were clamping down on her tongue buried deep inside you, eyes rolling back into your skull as you let out a sinful cry. Imelda cooed with delight, not letting any of your precious honey go to waste as she used her long, curling tongue to lick around your folds, giving your clit a last little flick. You lost your balance, your knees giving out as your orgasm rocked through you. Like always, though, you felt Imelda’s strong grip before you could fall to the floor. She quickly carried you over to the bed – a recent addition to your Room of Requirement you had been gratefully taking a lot of advantage of – and threw you down on the mattress. You giggled as you hit the sheets, quickly being smothered by her lips, which still bore the sweet taste of your juices.

Imelda propped herself up on her elbows, a smile playing on her lips as she hovered above you. “You’re a fucking treat, you know.”

“Miss Reyes, are you getting sentimental on me?” you teased.

“Don’t ruin the mood.” She leaned down, planting another kiss on your lips. “Then again, I’ll admit there’s a lot to like.”

“Uh-huh.” You chuckled, swapping a few more lazy kisses before she settled down beside you, a content sigh leaving her lips. You spent a few minutes basking in your afterglow, allowing your breath to return to its normal rhythm while the little electric currents running through your body slowly dissipated. Imelda sat up and retrieved a pair of cigarettes from the bedside table, using the tip of her wand to light them before extending one toward you. As you took a drag, you watched the wisps of silver-grey smoke curling toward the ceiling.

“Mind if I ask you something?” you inquired.

“Go ahead,” Imelda responded.

“You remember our first time, right? The Quidditch afterparty at the end of our sixth year?”

“Aye, I do. Just the parts I care to remember though.”

A smile tugged at your lips, the memory of that night – and especially the less-than-glamorous morning after – still living on vividly in your mind. “I suppose it’s a little odd it took two bottles of Firewhisky for us to finally act on our feelings.”

Imelda glanced at you, taking a drag from her cigarette. “Do you mean you regret it?”

“Oh, Merlin, no. I felt bloody awful the next morning, but that definitely wasn’t because of what we did.” Shifting to get a better view of her, you admired the elegant curve of her spine. “What intrigues me is – it didn’t really come as a surprise to either of us, right? We were always needling each other, bantering, pretending we weren’t actually flirting…”

“True. So what’s your point?”

“Well, I can explain my being reluctant… but you’ve never been one to beat around the bush. So, indulge me. Why was it only then that you decided to take action?”

Imelda fell into a brief contemplation before speaking, her words slightly hesitant. “I suppose I could tell you, but I don’t think I should.”

“Come on, don’t give me that rubbish,” you laughed, playfully swatting her arm.

“No, seriously. You’d absolutely hate me if I told you.”

“Melly,” you said in a whiny voice, predictably causing her to roll her eyes at you.

“All right, fine,” she grumbled, releasing a puff of smoke. “So, here’s my horrible little confession: I might have known that Sebastian Sallow had a crush on you, and I might have jumped at the chance to fuck his precious girlie before he could.”

Your jaw dropped at the revelation. “Oh my stars, you devious bitch!”

“Look, in my defence, I was piss drunk. And it really wasn’t the only reason – or the most important one, for that matter.”

You squinted at her, tilting your head. “But still.”

“Oh, get off your fucking high horse,” Imelda scoffed. “I wasn’t even going to do anything until you kissed me first.”

A soft chuckle escaped you. “Yeah, I suppose that’s on me. Though I admit, hearing this now, I’m as much as aroused as I am offended.”

“Ooh,” Imelda snickered, “now who’s being kinky?”

“Shut up,” you replied, but before you knew it the Slytherin was already back on top of you, teasing you with little pecks on your collarbone.

“You just love it when I get all possessive, don’t you?” she taunted between kisses. “Telling you you’re mine, claiming you as my little plaything…”

You involuntarily let out a cute little moan. Imelda had always had a way with words, particularly when it came to saying just the right things to turn you on, but this was causing an especially hot feeling in the pit of your stomach. It didn’t help that her voice was occasionally slipping into a deep, animalistic growl that made you shudder with primal delight.

“That’s always been the best part of dating you, you know,” she hummed. “Having you all to myself…”

“So you would never think of sharing me?”

You’d meant it as a joke, but to your surprise she seemed to genuinely contemplate it. “Definitely no lads. But if they were a cute little thing like you…”

You tried to keep a straight face on the off chance that she was just messing with you, but even if she was, you could hardly deny the idea sounded hot as hell. “What, like Natty Onai?”

“Ew, no. No Gryffindors. I don’t want to spend all night hearing their shite about how great they are.”

“Okay, fair enough,” you conceded with a chuckle. “How about McDowell then?”

Imelda thought for a moment. “Violet’s cute. Don’t think she does gals, though. What about that Hufflepuff friend of yours?“

“Who? Poppy?”

“Uh-huh. I reckon she’d be a ton of fun. I have it on good authority that badgers tend to be freaks in bed.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” you laughed. “For one, we definitely don’t have that kind of relationship.”

“Yeah, right,” Imelda huffed, pressing another kiss on your shoulder. “I do have eyes, just so you know. If we weren’t fucking, I might actually be jealous.”

“Aw, I’m so touched.” You wrapped your arms around her neck, staring lovingly into your girlfriend’s brown eyes. “I guess I better let you keep me all to yourself, then.”

A smile spread across her face, and she leaned in to kiss you – deeply, passionately. You felt warm all over, not even noticing her finger slipping down until you felt something brushing past your sensitive clit, drawing a gasp from you.

“Seems like someone has gotten a little wet again,” Imelda chuckled. “Want me to take care of that?”

You nodded with a smile, having a slight suspicion this wasn’t going to be the last time she made that offer tonight.

––

A couple of days later, you found yourself humming as you made your way down to the lake for your next Care of Magical Creatures class. Upon arrival, you merged seamlessly with the group of students already gathered, your gaze sweeping the surroundings until a familiar voice reached you from behind: “Hello, MC!”

Turning around, you greeted the cheerful Hufflepuff with a smile of your own. “Hello, Poppy! Why, am I mistaken, or have you grown a tad taller?”

Poppy crossed her arms, punctuating her sigh with an eye roll. “Oh, the wit. That joke’s been well worn by now, you know.”

“Eh, I wouldn’t be so sure. Still gets a chuckle out of me.” Your attention was suddenly drawn to a couple of bruises on her forearm. Worry edged your voice as you stepped closer. “Hey, are you all right?”

She looked at her arm. “Oh, this? It’s nothing, really. Just some extra assignments for Professor Howin in preparation for my NEWTs. You know how it is, the creatures can be a handful sometimes.”

“You should be more careful, you know. Doing your exams is going to be hard without your limbs.”

“Oh, I’ll be fine. I know what I am doing. But – I appreciate your concern.”

It might have been your imagination, but you almost seemed to detect just the slightest hint of a blush on her cheeks as she said it. Before you could respond, though, Professor Howin called the class to attention and handed out your assignments. You were instructed to head up to a group of Dugbogs and select one specimen as a reference for an anatomy sketch. Opting to partner with Poppy, you ventured out with the other students, finding a comfortable spot on a nearby slope that provided a clear view of the herd. Settling down, you retrieved your parchment and pencil, the rustling of grass around you creating an ideal backdrop for concentration.

After a while, you decided to strike up another conversation: “So, no chances left to luck then? With your studies, I mean.”

“Certainly not,” Poppy answered without looking up. “Well, I am worrying a bit about Potions and Defence Against the Dark Arts, but they don’t matter as much as Care of Magical Creatures when it comes to my post-school ambitions, obviously.”

“Yeah, of course. Though I will say that if anyone is guaranteed to pass their Beasts NEWT with flying colours, it’s you.”

Poppy brought her hand up to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear, flashing you a quick smile. “Thank you, that’s very kind of you to say. You’ve been doing quite well yourself.”

“Think so?” You inspected your sketch, realizing you’d drawn the creature’s legs in the wrong position. After correcting it, you shrugged. “Not sure about that.”

“Everyone has their strengths. Besides, you’ve done more to help me than anyone else, so it’s not like you lack the experience –”

“I suppose so. Don’t think kicking poacher arse earns me any extra credit, though.”

“Well, it should.” The two of you shared a laugh before relishing another quiet moment. You had to admit that it felt rather nice to spend time with Poppy like this, even if it was in class. You briefly recalled what Imelda had mentioned about your friendship; of course you knew she was just taking the piss, but if you were honest with yourself – wasn’t Poppy the entire reason you had decided to keep your Beasts elective in the first place? You hadn’t really thought much of it at the time, assuming it was the easiest way of making sure you still got to spend time together between your study frenzies, but even now you realised signing up for an entire class just to be able to see your friend seemed a bit overkill… especially considering you weren’t even that good at it.

“How are things with you and Imelda?” Poppy asked, snapping you out of your thoughts. “You are still seeing each other, right?”

Oh, definitely more than just seeing, you thought to yourself with a smirk. “We’ve been quite well, actually. I’m still hounding her to focus less on Quidditch and more on making it through her exams, but you know how she is. Couldn’t get that woman to listen even if I had thirty Howlers chew her out all at once.”

Poppy chuckled. “I wouldn’t mind seeing that. But you’re not actually… you know, worried?”

“Honestly, I don’t think I have any right to be. It’s her dream and she obviously knows what she’s doing. Besides, I think she’s the only person at Hogwarts who’s mad enough to be able to pull it off.”

“I suppose that’s true.” Her smile lingered before she added, “And if you ever need help taming her…”

You cocked an eyebrow, smirking at the Hufflepuff. “Miss Sweeting, did you just make some kind of unsavoury suggestion?!”

Truth be told, you were enjoying the sudden horrified expression on her otherwise innocent face just a little too much. “N-no!” she stammered. “I didn’t mean it that way!”

But then you burst out laughing, clutching your sides as you started tearing up. Poppy’s face instantly turned to a scowl. “Oh, that’s mean!” she exclaimed, though you noted she sounded more relieved than mad.

“I’m sorry… it’s just – your face…” you giggled between gasps for breath, wiping the tears from your eyes. “Gods, that was just great.”

“I’m happy that you enjoyed yourself, but it seems that in your unbridled enthusiasm you ended up scaring away all of the Dugbogs.” Following her pointed finger, you noted the suddenly empty shoreline.

“Oh, bugger. Eh, sorry about that. I guess we’ll just head back to Professor Howin and I’ll explain –”

“Don’t be silly.” Poppy snatched the parchment out of your hands, quickly beginning to finish the rough lines you’d already drawn. You settled back with your hands in your lap, shaking your head to yourself. “Where would I be without you?”

––

Soft snores filled the air, surrounding you as you lay curled up in bed, the deep and dark veil of sleep slowly enveloping you. You were exhausted, the result of a late-night study session at the library. As you settled in for a well-earned rest, your senses were roused by a presence nearby, the sound of bare feet moving across the floor.

“MC?” a gentle voice reached you.

“Hm? Mel?” You rubbed your eyes, the silhouette of your girlfriend gradually sharpening before you. “What’s going on?”

Imelda stood by your bedside, clad in a simple camisole. You instantly assumed she’d come to find you for a nighttime snack, but as your mind cleared, you sensed an unusual unease about her. She fidgeted, clearly avoiding your gaze. “Can we talk?”

“Uh, I’m not really in the mood –”

“It’s not that, I promise.” She sighed, a hint of frustration in her voice. “I just… I need to talk to you. Please.”

You sat up, curious about what had rattled your typically composed girlfriend. Imelda motioned for you to follow, and as you complied, stepping out of bed and leaving your dorm, you wondered what could be on her mind. The two of you made your way to the empty common room. Settling into a pair of comfortable armchairs near a window overlooking the lake, you crossed your legs, giving her space. She gazed at her lap, exhaling deeply.

“MC…”

She hesitated, drawing a breath before blurting out, “I like you.”

The unexpected declaration caught you off guard. Your eyes darted uncertainly, a dry swallow betraying your surprise. “There’s more, or…?”

“No. Yes. I mean – damn it.” She squeezed her eyes shut in frustration. “Ugh, I knew this was a bad idea –”

“Hey, hey, calm down.” You reached out and took her hand, giving it just the tiniest squeeze to put her at ease, even though you didn’t really know what you were doing. Quite frankly, this version of Imelda was scaring you a little. “You know I’m the only one who’s allowed to be a drama queen.”

To your relief, her tense expression softened. “Yeah, and often doing a piss poor job at it too.”

“Oh, fuck you.” You shared a chuckle before she seemed ready to give it another shot. “Look, MC… I’ve been thinking lately. I know I’m always taking the piss, acting like I’m only in it for the sex and giggles, things like that. I know we agreed to keep things light when we decided to give this whole relationship a try, and I appreciate you putting up with that, but… I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted more, you know?”

You held back your response, allowing her to continue. True enough, you had sometimes harboured just the slightest bit of resentment over the lack of deeper intimacy in your relationship, but you respected Imelda’s boundaries.

“After we started fooling around, you once mentioned I’d made you realise some things about yourself,” Imelda continued. “I think that goes for me too. I spent a long time being scared shitless of even just the idea of a relationship. Before you, I was religious about only doing flings – worrying that the minute I allowed myself to get close to someone, I’d be throwing away my life and dreams and everything I worked so hard for. And it’s still hard not to feel that way. But… I also know that with you, it’s different. You’re strong, patient, determined... I feel like you understand me in a way no one else does.”

Her small, calloused fingers interlaced with yours, seeking solace. She looked at you, tears glistening before she wiped them away. “I suppose what I’m trying to say is – well, fuck, I like you. I really like you. And even though I don’t know what this will mean for me, for us – I just want to say that if you wanted this to be more serious, then damn it, I’m in.”

A moment of quiet followed, allowing her words to sink in. This side of Imelda was entirely new – raw and exposed. You realised how much it meant that she was opening herself up to you like this.

You gave her a little smile as you moved your hand to cup her cheek, her body immediately freezing at the gesture. “You silly thing… you know I would never let you give up your dreams for me. I love you, I want to support you, I want to celebrate with you when you win, comfort you when you lose –”

A grin appeared on her face. “Except we both know I never lose.”

“Well, sure. Everyone can do flying.” You leaned in closer. “But how about I give you a real challenge?”

Those were all the words she needed to hear. She pulled you up and before you were able to draw a breath she had her arms around you, claiming you for herself with a warmth and a sensuality that had you instantly melt like honey into her embrace. It was so much different from the other times she had kissed you, so full of need, of craving so strong that you easily felt like you were falling in love with her all over again. Both your cheeks were flushed when you finally parted, her palm cradling your face, fingers grazing your lips.

“Gods, the things I could do to you right now…”

You smiled, planting a peck on her lips. “I can’t wait, my love. But we should save it for a later time. You have training, and I’ve got studying tomorrow. We should both get some rest.”

She seemed slightly disappointed, but understanding flickered in her eyes. You exchanged another brief kiss before heading back to your dorm. Unsurprisingly, sleep claimed you easily, your thoughts wandering into slumber with the lingering sensation of Imelda’s kiss on your lips.

––

“Oh, blast.”

Poppy muttered softly as her eyes fell upon the small group of students gathered further down the path. She quickly turned around before they had a chance to spot her, clutching her bag and lowering her head to obscure her face. Seconds ticked by as she anxiously awaited any change in their conversation, a mention of her name, a sign of recognition – but it never came. She breathed a sigh of relief, starting back up the hill. Finding an alternative route to the pens would take longer, but she’d endure it gladly if it meant escaping the juvenile jokes and another reference to Peculiar Poppy…

It was then that another figure emerged down the path. At first, the person wasn’t immediately recognizable, but after squinting, Poppy noticed the unmistakable emerald green Quidditch robes.

Oh, for the love of –

There was no way out. Trapped between two scenarios, she was bound to face one of them. She made a halfhearted attempt at slipping off the path in what she hoped was an inconspicuous way, but her efforts were in vain – she’d already been spotted. A familiar voice called out.

“Hey, Sweeting!”

She straightened her back and put on her best courteous smile as Imelda approached her. “Oh, hello, Imelda! Off to practice, I presume?”

Imelda arched an eyebrow. “Gee, what gave it away?” She shifted her broom to her other hand. “What are you doing out, anyway? Don’t you have studying to do?”

“Well, yes, actually.” Poppy replied, scrambling for an excuse. “I was on my way to collect new assignments from Professor Howin, but, uhm –” she briefly cast a nervous glance at the group of students still loitering further down the path – “I just realised I left my quill!"

“Really now?” Imelda frowned. “Well, why don’t you just borrow mine? I always bring a spare for marking my lap times.”

“N-no,” Poppy stammered, trying to buy more time. “I wouldn't want to inconvenience you –”

“Don’t be daft. You’re not going to trek all the way back for a quill. Take it.”

Seeing no other option but to resign to the situation, Poppy took the quill from Imelda, less frustrated over her thwarted excuse than surprised by the apparent gesture of kindness. She put the feather away, trying to think of something to draw the attention away from herself. “So, uhm, are you headed for the Quidditch pitch?” she decided to ask.

Imelda nodded. “Couldn’t head out beyond the school grounds anymore even if I wanted to. MC has me on a leash these days.”

Poppy chuckled. “She’s merely concerned. Then again, I’m surprised that you’re actually listening to her."

“Like I have a choice. Woman would tie me up to a damn chair if she could. Not that I’d mind, honestly.”

Noticing Poppy’s freckles darken, the Slytherin let out a mischievous laugh. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell her I told you that. Anyway – since we are both headed that way, wanna tag along?”

It occurred to Poppy that she could very well have conjured another excuse if she had wanted to, but then again, Imelda didn’t seem all that bad. Plus, having the Captain around would conceivably be the best way to avoid a scolding, so she simply nodded, moving alongside the other girl as they started sauntering down the path.

“I happened to speak to MC a couple of days ago,” Poppy said. “I’m glad to know you two are doing well.”

“Aye, me too,” Imelda replied, her tone shifting slightly. “We… actually had a pretty good conversation last night. I think things are really starting to get serious between us.”

“Oh?”

She didn’t mean to sound disappointed – she really didn’t. But then why couldn’t she feel happy for Imelda and MC? She’d known things had been heading this way for a while, had even expected them to, but now that it was seemingly official she suddenly found herself unable to accept it.

“Come on, you can say it,” Imelda said, instantly snapping her out of her thoughts. “I know it’s bloody asinine.”

“No, not at all. Why would you say that?”

“Well –” The Slytherin sighed. “I don’t rightly know. For the past seven years, all I’ve ever fancied was Quidditch. I’ve only ever had to rely on myself. I suppose I’m just having trouble getting used to the idea of sharing my life with someone else.”

Poppy looked at her feet. “I’d imagine it’s only natural to be a little scared. But I would take it as a good sign – it means this bond you two share is truly something special. And if you would ask me, I’d say that MC couldn’t be a luckier girl.”

Imelda furrowed her brow as she looked at the Hufflepuff out of the corner of her eye, certainly not having missed the melancholy in her voice this time around. She’d always known there was something between the girl and MC – heck, implying as much was her favourite way of getting a raise out of her girlfriend – but she’d never really contemplated the idea that it could be anything serious. Fuck, was Poppy feeling jealous?

They passed the group of students, the conversation dying down momentarily. True to Poppy’s prediction, they shot curious glances her way but remained silent with Imelda present. Once they were out of earshot, Poppy released an audible sigh of relief.

Imelda cocked an eyebrow. “You shouldn’t be afraid to show a little bite, you know. They keep singling you out because they know you ain’t about to put up a fight.”

“I know,” Poppy sighed, “I just don’t want to cause any more trouble –”

“Oh, bull. You’re not going to tell me that the girl who rescued a literal dragon can’t manage to stand up to a couple of bullies.”

Poppy looked up at Imelda, her blush deepening. “MC… told you about that?”

“Of course she did. Hell, most of the time I can’t get her to shut up about how you’re taking it to those poachers. You’re gutsier than you look, you know.”

A proud smile illuminated Poppy’s face. “I… I suppose I am. That means a lot, coming from you.”

Imelda grinned before her face turned to a more solemn expression. “Listen, I know I’ve given you a hard time before. Can’t say I’m very proud of it. You have no reason to trust me now, but… if you’re up for it, I wouldn’t mind getting to know each other better.”

The proposal was unexpected, jarring even, yet something in Poppy felt that it was the right thing to do. She only briefly contemplated the offer before nodding. “I think I’d like that.”

“Great,” Imelda smiled. “Oh, and MC mentioned something about a Hippogriff?”

––

Weeks melted away, and in your sincere estimation, the bond between you and Imelda had never been stronger. Your redefined relationship had given you plenty of new things to appreciate about each other, from stolen kisses before entering the common room to hidden notes waiting to be discovered in your bags. Waking up to find flowers gracing your bedside table had taken some adjustment, but you found it largely endearing that she was working so hard to prove to you that she was taking things seriously.

And that didn’t even include the pure delight your sex life had become. Sure, you’d enjoyed the physical intimacy of each other’s bodies before, but it was like exploring a whole new world now that you were truly making love instead of just committing a physical act. Imelda still wasn’t too big on the whole public affection thing, but she never seemed to pass up an opportunity to drag you into some hidden alcove to do things that usually left you running late for your next class – although even that didn’t bother you as much as it used to.

All in all, you could say that life was pretty damn perfect. Of course, you had no way of knowing just how much your life was about to change again – though then again, you weren’t sure it would have made any difference either way.

You stood in the shadow of the Quidditch stands, observing the congregation of players spread across the field. Your girlfriend commanded the usual centre of attention, barking orders and giving feedback to the team. Even from a distance, you could sense her resolute determination; exams or not, Imelda wasn’t willing to leave anything to chance in her final school tournament.

You made sure not to draw much attention to yourself as the players walked off, knowing how Imelda didn’t like getting the personal mixed up with the professional, though there was an unmistakable smirk playing on her lips when you popped out to her. “This area is for players only, you know.”

“Aw, the Captain’s girlfriend doesn’t get special privileges?” you pouted, causing her to chuckle. “Fine, you can stay.” She moved up to you, pressing a quick kiss to your lips. “I was starting to miss you anyway.”

“I must admit, I’m starting to get quite fond of this side of you.”

“Don’t push it. I’d still kick your arse any day if I wanted.”

The two of you headed to the changing rooms, thankfully now empty as most players had their busy studying schedules to attend to. You watched Imelda as she took off her arm pads, leaning back against the wall. “You played brilliantly today,” you said. “From the looks of it, you’re more than ready to win this thing.”

“Yeah, well, looks alone ain’t enough,” Imelda grumbled. “We’re still nowhere where we need to be on offence. It doesn’t matter how many times I tell them to focus if they keep flying with their head up their arse –”

“They’ll come together when it’s time for the match. You know they’ve got plenty to deal with as it is.”

“Well, they shouldn’t have joined the bloody team then,” Imelda snapped, before closing her eyes and taking a breath to steady herself. “I suppose… maybe I’ve been a tad harsh on them. Can’t say my own mind has been fully in the game lately.”

“Hey, simmer down, Captain.” Without hesitation, you stepped behind her, placing your hands on her shoulders. Gods, she was tense; it felt like every single muscle in her body was wound up tightly like a coil. It pained you to know that she was pushing herself to her limits like this. “Stop finding ways to blame yourself. You’re going to be great. All this doubt is just going to keep your attention away from where it should be.”

“Guess you’re right.” Imelda’s exhale was soft as she relaxed beneath your touch. With skilful ease, you worked on her shoulders, your hands moving to her arms, offering soothing strokes. You could sense her beginning to ease into your hold, her stress giving way to the kind of relief you had become quite the expert at providing.

“That’s it…” you cooed, noting the tremble in her neck with a light smile, “just let me take care of you…”

You moved your hands back to her shoulders and started applying pressure, using your thumbs to massage the back of her neck, earning a deep groan from her. “Oh, yes, just like that – that’s perfect.”

You let out a chuckle. “I can tell you needed this.”

“Mmm… you always seem to know just what I need…”

Your heart made a little leap at the comment, the pride of being able to bring this comfort to your lover was a sensation like no other. Feeling her body respond to your touch in all the right ways along with the sounds she was making was giving you some rather naughty ideas. Your fingers slipped down her back, and you wondered just how long you would be able to keep up the pretence before she caught on to your true intentions…

As you had expected, it didn’t take long for her thin lips to curl into a knowing smile. “What are you doing?”

“Just caring for my lovely girlfriend,” you hummed innocently as your hands snuck around to her front, reaching the band of her trousers. “You seem so tense, I figured you could do with some extra attention…”

“In public? My, I seem to be quite the corrupting influence –”

You chuckled, your hot breath tickling her ear. “Who says it wasn’t my idea?”

“Don’t talk nonsense,” she scoffed. “We both know you’re a puss– yyyy”

Her words were lost to a throaty moan as the first of your digits dipped into her trousers and brushed against the little bundle of heat. There was absolutely no hiding it: she was dripping, and probably had been from the moment you’d put your hands on her.

“Oh yeah,” you concluded, “someone’s definitely aching down there.”

“Less talking, more action,” she commanded, grinding against your palm in a futile effort to create more friction, though you were the only one who could bring her relief and she knew it. In fact, you decided you wanted to enjoy this rare position of control just a little longer. Bringing two fingers together, you started teasing her folds, using her own slick to make a lovely little mess of her inner thighs. You listened to the grinding of her teeth, her body involuntarily responding to your movements. An oddly weak-sounding whimper rolled from her parted lips as she furrowed her brow, causing a rush of heat between your own legs.

“Stop f-fucking teasing me,” she whined, obviously hating that she couldn’t even manage to keep her voice under control as you tormented her like this. You smiled wickedly as you drew circles around her clit, your teeth grazing the skin of her lobe. “You may be in charge out there on the field, Captain, but here I’ve got you right at my fingertips…”

A particularly close brush past her sensitive little nub caused her to shiver against you. You felt at least a little bad for punishing her like this, but the rare thrill of having her depend on you was hardly something to be resisted. Usually it was Imelda taking charge, pulling your strings, dictating when and how you came. Now that you were able to set the terms for a change, you were keen to make the most out of it.

Imelda kept whining, bucking her hips to guide your hand. “Come… on….” she gasped, her voice breaking.

You figured she probably couldn’t get much more closer to the edge than she was now. So you leaned in even further, whispering to her: “My poor princess… do you want me inside? Do you want me to make you cum?”

The only reply Imelda could manage was a frantic nod, but you weren’t about to indulge her that easily. Your voice grew huskier, almost like a growl: “Then beg me, princess.”

Maybe you expected her to put up more of a fight, but then again, you had already done a pretty good job shattering her resolve. The cutest little whimper you would have never associated with the tough Slytherin reached your ears: “P-please…”

You were a little thankful the other players had already left, as the guttural grunt she emitted when you finally inserted your finger would have alerted anyone in the near vicinity to what the two of you were up to. You sank in to the knuckle, feeling her clench around your digit – and that was when you heard it.

Someone was gasping.

You instantly turned your head, your eyes searching for the possible intruder. You saw the benches, the lockers, and the small open area leading to the field beyond, all empty. Maybe it had just been your imagination, then? After all, Imelda wasn’t exactly trying very hard to stay quiet –

She contracted around you again, her walls squeezing your finger tightly, and you simply threw any caution to the wind. Your lips returned to her earlobe, briefly tugging on it before you started down her neck, tenderly kissing the skin as you were rewarded with a blissful string of moans and curses; and then you went to work to give your girlfriend the relief she was so desperately craving, unaware of the pair of hazelnut eyes observing every move.

––

Poppy had not meant to catch the two of you in the act. She had not even expected to find you there, merely having gone out to invite Imelda for a trip to Hogsmeade. As strange as it sounded – even to herself – she had come to appreciate the other Slytherin’s company more than she dared to admit, and not just because of the bullies. Maybe it was because the way she spoke about Quidditch reminded her so much of her own experience; a deep-rooted passion that had always been at the very centre of her being, nurtured by someone very close to her heart. Poppy had been surprised to find that underneath the rough edge and all the bravado was another girl with hopes and dreams, much like you, much like herself. Besides, she was simply a lot of fun to be around.

So Poppy had come down to the Quidditch pitch to find her, only to find the two of you locked in a steamy embrace with your hand down Imelda’s trousers. To say she was shocked would be an understatement. She realized she had stumbled upon something forbidden, something never intended for her eyes. The wisest course of action would be to leave immediately and erase the image from her mind.

And yet… she found that she couldn’t. It was bad, and incredibly depraved – but there was something mesmerizing about the whole display that captured her gaze and wouldn’t let go. The way the smaller girl was writhing against you, producing sounds that were so unlike the way she normally conducted herself left an odd stirring deep within the Hufflepuff. Blood rushed to her cheeks as she saw the utterly wicked expression on your face, saw how much you were… enjoying this, despite not being on the receiving end. She didn’t know much about sex, but she knew enough about the heat throbbing between her legs to realise that seeing you like this was really turning her on.

You made a particular move that caused Imelda to let out a deep groan, and before Poppy could help herself, she parted her lips and gasped.

Thankfully, she was able to pull back behind one of the lockers just as you turned your head to look. She anxiously held her breath, chest tightening as her mind raced with nightmare scenarios. There was no way out – she couldn’t possibly explain away her presence, much less plausibly deny she had been watching you for as long as she had. Quite frankly, she deserved everything the two of you were about to lob at her. There was no washing away the shame she had brought on herself; Perverted Poppy, spying on other people. If her Gran heard about this…

But then you turned your attention back to Imelda. For a moment, Poppy wasn’t sure what was going on; it was only after you started kissing Imelda’s neck that she realised you hadn’t seen her. She let out a silent sigh of relief, carefully peeking around the corner in case you were still the slightest bit attentive. But the way you went to work on the other Slytherin didn’t leave any doubt about it; you were completely oblivious to the fact that you were being watched.

That close brush with eternal embarrassment should have been the most evident signal to make a swift exit, yet strangely… it was kind of having the opposite effect. The thrill of nearly having been caught had turned the throbbing between her legs to a warm trickle, and that wasn’t even considering how she couldn’t keep her eyes off you two. Her fingers slowly wandered down her vest, beginning to rub herself through the fabric as she watched you finger-fuck Imelda into a trembling mess. She had never really allowed herself to think of you this way, valuing your friendship too much to risk doing anything to change it, though right now she couldn’t help but let her mind wander… imagining what it would be like if she was the one at the centre of attention, feeling your hands on her body and your sweet whispers in her ear while Imelda had her way with her pussy, greedily lapping at her until she was moaning just as loudly as the Slytherin was now…

Her knees started to feel weak and she had to bite down on her bottom lip to stifle a whimper. Just a few steps away, you were increasing your pace, the room filling with a stereo of obscenely wet sounds and your loving taunts.

“That’s it baby… keep making those noises for me… you know I won’t stop until I’ve got you spitting all over my fingers…”

Poppy closed her eyes, focusing on your voice, imagining it was she you were talking to right now. So unbelievably depraved… you would never know what she had done… how could she ever look you in the eye again knowing that you –

A particularly loud curse from Imelda snapped her out of her reverie. She opened her eyes just in time to see the Slytherin collapsing against you, legs shaking so heavily that for a moment she was worried the girl might actually hurt herself. You held her tightly as her climax washed over her, and then the room filled with your content laughter.

“Bloody hell,” Imelda said with a lopsided smile, “remind me to let you take care of me more often!”

“You know I’m always happy to, my love.” You kissed her neck again, helping her regain her balance before you withdrew your fingers from her soaked undies and made a show of cleaning her off your fingers.

Imelda chuckled. “As great as that was, I really could do with a shower now. Care to join, or…?”

“I doubt you would end up much cleaner if I did. You go ahead, I’ll be waiting back at the common room.”

Imelda seemed a bit disappointed about missing out on a shower together, though the orgasm you had just given her didn’t leave her in much of a position to protest. So she took her leave, but not before yanking you by your tie and pressing a deep kiss to your lips, winking at you as she departed with a sway of her hips.

You chuckled to yourself, remembering to straighten your clothes before you headed outside. Out of curiosity, you threw another glance at the lockers as you passed. As you had more or less expected, there was not a living soul in sight… though you couldn’t help but notice the very faint smell of Hippogriffs.

––

“Quickly, get in and close the door!”

You tumbled into your Room of Requirement, closely followed by Poppy and your nabsack. Briefly checking for any missing limbs, you were relieved to find that the two of you were still in one piece, although your robe was torn to shreds and Poppy’s tie and one of her shoes seemed to be missing. Collapsing onto a nearby sofa, you leaned back, letting out a deep breath. “I can’t believe we survived that... What even happened? All I remember is trying to Disapparate, and suddenly, we were right in the thick of it –”

“I suspect we miscalculated,” Poppy sighed, mirroring your lead as she dropped into an armchair. “We were meant to Apparate right outside the castle gates, but we ended up smack in the middle of a poacher camp.”

“Right.” You pinched the bridge of your nose. “That must have been my fault. I was trying to focus, but I think I lost my bearings… Merlin, I’m so sorry Poppy. I could have gotten us both killed –”

“It’s all right,” Poppy said, her face immediately turning to an expression of concern. “We’re both here, safe. And more importantly, we accomplished what we set out to do.”

Lifting the nabsack, she directed your attention to it, prompting you to sit up. “The unicorn…? Is she…?”

“She’s alive and well,” Poppy affirmed, her smile beaming with pride. “I managed to snag her before the poachers could spring their trap. Just for good measure, though, I think we best release her into her new sanctuary right away.”

“Of course. You go ahead, I’ll be right behind you.”

Chuckling softly, you watched as the determined Hufflepuff sprang to her feet and dashed off toward the Swamp Vivarium, moving as if she had in fact not just barely escaped from certain death. You wish you could say the same for yourself. As you rose from the sofa, a sharp pain shot from your thigh to your side, causing you to wince and lean back against the cushions. Thankfully, Poppy seemed to be too preoccupied to pay much attention to you right now – you didn’t want her to worry further, still feeling guilty over the danger you had put her in.

With some effort, you followed her into the Vivarium, the thick marshy scent filling your nostrils. Standing by her side, you met her gaze and gave a confirming nod as she placed her hand on the nabsack’s buckle. She undid it, clutching the bag as it quivered; then, a ray of light burst forth, unveiling a splendid creature with the most exquisite golden fur. You and Poppy both sighed in awe, watching the unicorn as she curiously took in her new surroundings. It was a sight that never lost its enchantment.

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” Poppy smiled.

“Yes, she truly is.”

Your words weren’t solely directed at the unicorn. Out of the corner of her eye, Poppy caught your gaze, her cheeks flushing with a rosy hue. Before you could say anything to alleviate the awkwardness, though, a sudden pain in your side caused you to flinch and hunch over, emitting a hiss between your teeth.

Instantly, the Hufflepuff was by your side, her hands reaching out to you. “You’re hurt,” she said, the surprise in her voice triggering a pang of guilt in your gut.

“Just a scratch,” you grunted, dismissing the discomfort. “I’ll walk it off –”

“MC.”

You weren’t a stranger to Poppy’s shifts in demeanour, though sometimes you still marvelled at her ability to go from introverted to assertive in less than a second – this time being no exception. Finding yourself in no position to resist, you surrendered to her grasp and allowed her to lead you back into your Room, sinking into the sofa while she hastened to retrieve her healing kit. You focused on your breathing, taking deep inhalations as Poppy returned and began assembling herbs to craft a healing paste for your wound.

“I’m so sorry for all of this,” you sighed, the weight of guilt hanging heavy over you. “If only I hadn’t been so reckless –”

“Enough,” Poppy replied without looking up, her tone firm. “We both accepted the risks when we decided to do this. And anyway, we did break a fair number of noses.”

You smiled, watching as Poppy carefully lifted your vest and applied the paste, gently smearing it over the bruised area. A sense of physical relief immediately came over you, numbing the pain.

“You saved my life,” you said to her.

“I suppose that makes us even,” she answered with a smile.

“I mean it. I don’t think I’d even be here if it wasn’t for you. And I probably don’t say this enough, but… I’m really glad to have you as my friend, Poppy.”

The Hufflepuff pulled back, seeming hesitant. Clearly she had not expected such a solemn confession from you.

“I admit… I deeply treasure our friendship as well. There aren’t many who would be willing to take such great risks for me.”

Her attention shifted to a minor gash on your forehead. “Hold still,” she instructed, promptly applying more paste as she leaned in to tend to the wound. You shivered slightly, not so much because of the paste’s chill as of the delicate touch of Poppy’s fingers against your skin. You had always noted a kind of innocent prettiness about her, but now she appeared simply radiant as she gently cared for your injury, moving with a grace and elegance that you had never fully appreciated before. Her soft brown eyes inadvertently lowered, your gazes meeting, and a silence enveloped you both.

“Poppy…” you croaked, your voice hoarse.

And then, she kissed you.

Neither of you had intended it. You weren’t even sure whether Poppy had initiated it. All you felt were her lips meeting yours and the realization that you weren’t resisting. A warmth spread from within, flushing your cheeks and quickening your heartbeat – the same rhythm you felt from Poppy. The kiss was brief, a mere moment, yet it seemed as though hours had passed when you eventually broke away, the sudden silence crashing over you like a cold wave.

Poppy appeared mortified. “I’m – I’m sorry,” she stammered, her cheeks flushed. “I shouldn’t have –”

“MC!”

Before you could fully gather your thoughts, a whirl of emerald robes descended upon you. Imelda’s presence engulfed you, her touch frantic as she checked you over, her expression a mixture of panic and anger. She turned your head, making you meet her gaze, which flickered with a blend of worry and exasperation. “Fuck’s sake, having the fucking audacity to ask me to stay home while you go out and risk your bloody neck – are you all right?”

“I’m fine, Mel,” you tried to reassure her. “It was supposed to be routine –”

“Oh, don’t even think of using those bloody excuses on me right now,” she barked. “Look at your face, for Merlin’s sake!”

Realising that trying to argue with her would get you nowhere at this point, you decided to relent. “You’re right, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” you sighed. “I just didn’t want you to worry with everything else you already have on your mind…”

Imelda’s expression softened somewhat, a trace of panic subsiding. “Well, too late for that now,” she sighed, cupping your cheek. “Please don’t scare me like that ever again. I nearly lost it in front of Sallow when I heard.”

You allowed yourself a chuckle. “Your concern is touching.”

“Shut up.” She pecked your lips before turning her attention to Poppy, who had been attempting to fade into the background. “You were with her?”

“Uh, I was,” Poppy stammered, her face crimson as she braced for a reprimand. To your surprise, and hers, Imelda stepped forward and... embraced her.

“Thank you for getting her back safely,” the Slytherin said. “I’m glad you’re both all right.”

You didn’t meet Poppy's gaze as she shot you a baffled look over Imelda’s shoulder. Frankly, you weren’t sure how to feel. Perhaps a part of you experienced the slightest tinge of guilt, although you felt mostly relief. Honing in on that feeling, you allowed your head to droop backwards, closing your eyes and releasing a deep sigh.

––

The most striking aspect of that night’s events was how quickly they slipped from your thoughts.

While you couldn’t completely disregard what had happened, you found yourself questioning the actual significance of those moments. To be honest, you hadn’t intended to kiss Poppy, and it appeared from her reaction that she hadn’t either. Whatever emotions might have been stirred within you felt almost inconsequential. It was simpler to attribute the entire event to an adrenaline rush – after all, you had never regarded Poppy as anything more than a friend. A dear one, but a friend nonetheless. Or so you’d convinced yourself, although an undercurrent of doubt lingered, making you wonder whether you were trying just a bit too hard to convince yourself.

Regardless, Poppy never raised the issue again, and neither did you. In the days following the mission, there was some lingering awkwardness between you two, but soon your studies occupied your thoughts once more. Things went back to normal, and you genuinely believed it was behind you.

And for a time, it appeared to be – until Imelda proposed a ladies’ night involving the three of you.

––

“Bloody hell, I’m stuffed.” Imelda declared as she flopped onto the sofa in your Room, which you’d slightly redecorated to create a more lounge-like atmosphere for the occasion. “Reckon I’m going to have to schedule a few more hours to get rid of all these extra pounds.”

“You shouldn’t be so fussed about putting on a little weight,” you said. “I think you’d look adorable with a little belly roll.”

Your suggestion was pointedly met with Imelda flipping you off, drawing a chuckle from you as you dropped into an armchair. “Hey Poppy, back me up here. Don’t you think she’d look cute with a belly roll?”

“Oh, I think I’d really prefer not to comment,” the Hufflepuff replied, giving you a polite smile.

“Come on, you must have a type,” Imelda prodded. “Chubby or skinny?”

“Are we talking about Fwoopers or Diricawls?”

Imelda turned to you with a smirk. “Lassie’s got some cheek. I think we’ve been rubbing off on her!”

“She’s just been learning how to survive around you,” you chuckled, winking subtly at Poppy, who responded with a giggle. You were happy to see how comfortable she had grown to be around you and Imelda. She may not have liked to admit it, but she had come a long way since the shy, timid girl you’d met in Beasts class during your fifth year – and you sure as Merlin were proud to have been a part of her journey.

“Right, I think it’s about time we started the real party,” Imelda said, retrieving her wand from her pocket. She cast a few spells to summon shot glasses and a bottle of Firewhisky. As you reached for your glass, you noticed Poppy looking a bit uncertain out of the corner of your eye.

“You don’t have to drink any if you don’t want to,” you assured her, though she quickly shook her head. “I can’t be the only one left sober, can I?” she said, offering you a grateful smile.

“Atta girl.” Imelda chimed in, pouring her a drink. The three of you raised your glasses for a toast.

“To chubby girls and belly rolls!” you said.

Imelda snorted. “Oh, piss off. I’m not toasting to that,”

“How about friendship?” Poppy proposed. You exchanged a glance with your girlfriend, both of you shrugging in agreement. “Friendship works,” you concurred, raising your glass before downing the Firewhisky in one swift gulp. The liquid burned your throat, causing you to cough and tear up. You glanced at your companions, noticing that Imelda seemed to be handling it well, but Poppy’s elfin features had taken on a noticeable shade of crimson.

“Poppy – are you all right?” you asked, genuine concern washing over you. She gave you an odd look, and for a moment, you worried she was going to be sick. However, she then opened her mouth and unleashed the loudest belch you’d ever heard.

Locking eyes with Imelda, you both wore identical expressions of astonishment before erupting in laughter, while Poppy watched with an embarrassed smile.

“Merlin’s Beard, they must have heard that one all the way in Hogsmeade,” Imelda snickered after you had recovered from your bout of hysterical laughter. “I’d say that deserves another round. Bottoms up!”

You didn’t really keep track of the ensuing conversations – you seemed to recall one involving Poppy going off on a tangent about some obscure beast you’d never heard of and another involving you and Imelda having a heated discussion about made-up Quidditch players. You didn’t care either way; you were having a great time getting piss drunk and judging by their slurring and incoherent giggles, so were your friends. After collectively butchering the lyrics to the Hogwarts school song and reciting some filthy limericks, the three of you lay sprawled out in various, comfortable positions across the furniture, soaking in the warm embrace of your intoxicated spirits.

Breaking the tranquil silence, Imelda piped up first, her words slightly slurred: “You know what we should do now that we’re all pissed out of our minds?”

“Make embarrassing confessions we won’t have the slightest chance of remembering later?” you replied.

“Read my mind, girlie. But to make sure the two of you ain’t trying to cop out, I get to ask the questions.”

“Sure,” you shrugged indifferently. Give us your worst.”

“Right, let me think.” Imelda closed her eyes, going silent for a few minutes. Just as you were about to ask if she had fallen asleep, she opened them again and blurted out: “Cock or pussy?”

“Really? That’s the most original you can do?”

“Are you going to complain or answer the bloody question?”

“All right, all right,” you chuckled, taking a minute of your own to think. “Is it a big cock?”

“The biggest. Thick and veiny – the most hugabongulous cock you ever saw.”

You giggled. “Hugabongulous? Come on, you’re just making up words now.”

Imelda looked like she was about to give you another earful, so you quickly continued: “Well, pussy, obviously. But I don’t think I’d mind a big cock if the guy was cute.”

“Ugh.”

“What? You would?”

“Fucking right I would,” she slurred. “I’ll tell you, nothing beats the experience of tasting a girl falling apart on your tongue while you’re suffocating between her thighs. What about you, Pops?”

Poppy stirred on the other end of the sofa, her groggy eyes focusing. You expected her to sidestep the question, but surprisingly, she didn’t seem particularly shy about it. “Well… I suppose I would agree with you –”

“Ha!” Imelda cheered triumphantly. “That settles it.”

“How does that even count,” you protested. “She doesn’t even have any experience.”

“Oh, bull. I’m sure she has at least snogged someone before.”

She turned expectingly toward the Hufflepuff, being met with a suspicious silence.

“I… I can’t say that I have,” Poppy eventually admitted with a sigh.

Imelda seemed baffled. “Hold up. You’re telling me a pretty little thing like you has never even kissed someone?”

A small rational part of your tipsy mind registered a hint of alarm, recalling some foggy details from the night you rescued the unicorn, though you were still too immersed in your own hazy world to really care.

Poppy bit her lip. “I – I suppose I’ve never really given it much thought –”

“But you’d be open to it?” Imelda persisted.

“Well, yes, I suppose…”

You failed to notice the sidewards glance your girlfriend shot you. “So,” she asked, “would you kiss MC if you could?”

This jolted you out of your stupor. You snapped to attention, a blend of embarrassment and irritation rushing through you. “Come on, Mel, that isn’t funny.”

“It’s just a question,” Imelda retorted, starting to sound annoyed as well. “I just want to hear her answer.”

Looking back, perhaps you should have just gone along with the joke. The issue was, in that moment, your brain wasn’t processing it as a jest. Watching Poppy get cornered like that triggered a protective instinct deep inside you. Coupled with the lingering embarrassment you felt over having inadvertently kissed her and your alcohol-induced lack of restraint, it created quite an unpleasant cocktail of emotions.

“She doesn’t have to answer, because it’s a stupid question,” you snapped, straightening up in your chair. “Can we just take a break? I’m getting a headache –”

“Why are you being such a wimp about it?” Imelda taunted, her eyes flashing. “Too embarrassed to hear her admit she’d like to snog you?”

“Of course not, I just –”

“I would.”

You and Imelda both fell silent, realising neither of you had spoken. Your attention shifted to Poppy, who was now looking right at you with a peculiar spark of determination in her eyes. “I… would,” she repeated.

Your mind struggled to process what you were hearing. Part of you wanted to attribute it to the alcohol, but deep down, you sensed it was more than that. She was genuinely opening up about her feelings, admitting her desire to kiss you, confessing that her emotions extended beyond mere friendship. Did you feel the same way? Could you muster the courage to respond to her vulnerability?

A whirlwind of emotions swirled within you – anger, shock, disbelief, betrayal. It didn’t seem fair for her to drop this bombshell on you. Unable to contain your reaction, you directed your words at Imelda, “Happy now? You got her drunk enough to talk nonsense. I’m sure you’re really proud of yourself.”

“Don’t be an arse,” Imelda snapped back.

“I’m the arse? What, so we’re just going to pretend that this wasn’t all some convoluted ruse to get us hammered and take advantage of us? You really haven’t changed one bit, have you?”

Part of you recognized that you were only digging yourself into a deeper pit, yet your intoxication rendered you indifferent to the consequences. Your words were fueled by the alcohol, and it wasn’t going to be pretty.

Imelda’s gaze was cold, though that didn’t affect you as much as the pain in her eyes. “That’s precious,” she said, voice dripping with venom. “That’s really fucking precious. You know what, MC, fuck you. Just because you’re too much of a pussy to be honest about your feelings doesn’t give you the right to act like a cunt.”

“Oh, cut the crap,” you scoffed. “We both know it’s all about one thing only with you. And honestly, if you really thought this was the best way of getting us both into your bed, you’re even more dense than you look.”

You had unleashed those words before you could rein yourself in. Imelda stared at you, her eyes a mixture of hurt and anger, tears glistening. For a moment, it seemed like she might launch herself at you, but then she abruptly stood up, a bitter expression on her face, and spat on the floor.

“Go fuck yourself,” she said.

And with that, she stormed out, the door slamming shut behind her. The room felt instantly colder, the silence pressing down on you like a heavy weight. Your mind was a jumble of thoughts, frustration clawing at your chest. Fuck, why couldnt you think clearly?

A soft shuffling noise brought your attention back to the room. Your gaze lifted, meeting Poppy's tear-streaked cheeks. She avoided your eyes, mirroring Imelda’s exit, and walked out swiftly.

Fuck, you thought to yourself. Fuck.

#hogwarts legacy #imelda reyes #poppy sweeting #imelda reyes x mc #poppy sweeting x mc #imelda reyes x f!mc #poppy sweeting x f!mc #imelda reyes x reader #poppy sweeting x reader #imelda reyes x poppy sweeting #imelda reyes smut #Poppy sweeting smut #hogwarts legacy smut

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yeuxverts00 · 4 months ago

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Pièce de Résistance

A 10K OneShot written with Neilistic (Collab of my dreams) for the DWS Summer Lovin’ Gift Exchange (Explicit)

Summary: Healer Hermione Granger is slowly descending into wank-related madness as several of Draco’s veela samples conspire to drive her insane. Or; Four times healer Hermione came imagining veela Draco, and the one time she fucked him. Also, they’re soulmates.

Excerpt:

“May I ask—” he seemed to be taking care to keep his voice level. Unruffled. “—why you need a sample of my semen?”

“I have to explore all avenues, and as your condition seems to have something to do with… urges… I think it would be prudent.”

Hermione successfully managed not to blush by drawing her bottom lip between her teeth, and biting down. Draco’s eyes caught and held the movement. Grey flooded with molten silver, reflective and bright. Her wastepaper bin caught fire.

She tossed an extinguishing charm in that direction.

“I apologise.” Draco didn’t look contrite. He looked ready to raze St. Mungo’s to the ground like a pillaging viking. “I’ll do whatever needs to be done.”

Willing herself not to shake and shaking regardless, Hermione levitated a specimen jar towards Draco. She had to take extra care to not let it batter him about the head.

“So I—” He flicked his wrist elegantly, suggesting that bringing himself to orgasm would be an elegant affair. “Here?”

“Er—yes. I can find you an alternative room, or you’re welcome to apparate elsewhere and come back, but my other patients have felt comfortable enough to…”

“You ask such things of other patients?” There was a distinct note of affront to his tone—dare she say…jealousy? Her calendar went up in flames.

Hermione assiduously cast another Exstinguere, although the summer months now appeared to be a lost cause.

“Yes, it’s routine in some cases.” What even were these words leaving her mouth? Nothing was routine here. What was routine? Concepts were losing all meaning because she was thinking of Draco gripping himself tight, wing flaring wide.

She only hoped he couldn’t see the straws she was clutching at.

If she screamed the word professional enough times in her head, perhaps her professionalism would manifest itself.

“Fine.”

The jar was in his fingers, her lip was back between her teeth. She tasted copper.

“Is it standard procedure to be watched while producing the sample?”

“Wha—oh, no. Excuse me. I’ll be outside. But not close. Find me, when you’re… yes.”

She hurried out, putting as much distance between them as possible. She thought she was safe until she noticed she’d inexplicably drifted back down the length of an entire corridor. She was being summoned, as though by Accio, right back to where she’d left. Like a boomerang, she found herself leaning against her own office door again, drawn by the Heavenly music inside.

Her fierce anxiety was squaring off with delirious levels of lust. She was going to be fired. Arrested. This was sexual harassment. She had become criminally horny.

And yet couldn’t stop. She could hear rhythmic noises. A few soft grunts.

She was hysterically, ferociously aroused.

She was just beginning to wonder how much longer her knees could keep her upright when footsteps approached her office door. She nearly flew backwards into the opposite wall beneath a poster of a stern healer declaring SPATTERGROIT: IT’S NO JOKE.

He was standing in the doorway—sans shirt—avec wing—filling the doorway—becoming the doorway. The look he fixed her with suggested he was extremely unimpressed with her bedside manner. In his hand was a little jar and it was—

Oh Jesus H Merlin Christ. It was glowing with a diffuse phosphorescence simultaneously soothing to her eyes and profoundly alarming.

“Does it… normally do that?”

“Perhaps we can have this conversation back in your office.”

#ao3 #ao3 fanfic #draco malfoy #draco x hermione #dramione #hermione granger #hp fic #read on ao3

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cursedonyx · 1 year ago

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Of Creatures and Cauldrons

(Part 2)

Part 1 found here

Natsai has an idea to set Poppy up with her mysterious crush, not knowing it's Garreth. Things don't go to plan when Garreth's crush turns up.

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: heavy angst, unrequited love, pining, no comfort (this chapter)

_.-~*~-.__.-~*~-.__.-~*~-.__.-~*~-.__.-~*~-.__.-~*~-._

“Come on, Poppy, you know it is a good idea!”

“It’s not!” Poppy protested, walking arm in arm with Natsai towards the Great Hall. “You’re only suggesting it so you find out who I like!”

“True,” she chuckled. “But you will learn who I like also, yes? He asked me out to Hogsmeade two days ago, and I think it would be a marvellous opportunity to have a… what is it called? A double date? This weekend, yes?”

Poppy scuffed her shoes over the stone, pouting at Natsai’s tenacity. “I don’t want to stop you seeing whoever it is,” she muttered. “But I can’t just ask him out! He’s too popular, too smart, and I know he doesn’t like me that way.”

“I am sure he will see your worth once you talk to him for a while,” Natty squeezed her arm. “Perhaps… I have had another idea.”

“You and your ideas,” Poppy sighed. “Alright. What is it?”

“I will see my date for a few hours in Hogsmeade, then I would like you to join us in the Three Broomsticks,” she said. “I will also invite our friends, Imelda, Leander, Garreth, Arthur, Sacharissa, Samantha, Amit…”

But Poppy’s ears had started ringing the moment Natty said Garreth’s name, because as though he’d been summoned, there he was, bouncing along the corridor towards the Great Hall, already boisterous and beaming for such an early hour, Leander trailing dutifully along in his wake. Her breath caught as she watched him bound past, his lovely hair flopping all about his head, his smile as wide and wonderful as a Thestral’s wingspan…

“Poppy?” Natty jostled her. “What do you think? I shall invite our friends to join us, and you invite your person as an extension of my invitation, yes? That way, I have no idea who he is, and you can spend time with him.”

“Yeah, great,” Poppy said. They parted as they headed for their respective tables, and Poppy was so preoccupied in watching Garreth wolfing down bacon that she put her elbow in the butter dish.

A date. A date with Garreth! Well, no, it wasn’t a date, not really, it was all of them getting together to share a few butterbeers. But she would be there, and Garreth would be there, and she might even get to sit next to him. She hadn’t heard Natty mention Dracaena or Ominis in her list of friends to invite, and if that was the case, then maybe, just maybe, she’d be able to get Garreth’s attention and hold it for a while.

Her mind ran off with wild, vivid daydreams about what might happen, the pair of them drinking butterbeer as the rest of their friends dispersed, the light low and warm as all sounds around them faded until it was just them, and his big, beautiful smiling face would come closer and closer and she could touch his amazing hair, and…

Poppy was late for class. She skidded into Charms, red-faced and stuttering apologies, her cheeks burning more as Garreth turned to look at her. Merlin, she must look such a state, all sweaty and pink and her hair all over the place, and… oh, hell, there was Augury poop on her shoulder, too!

Ronen waved her to her seat, taking five points from Hufflepuff for her tardiness, and she hurried over, trying to scourgify her robes without anyone noticing. But she needn’t have worried. After taking note of her arrival, Garreth had gone right back to staring at the back of Draccie’s head, throwing a dark look at Ominis as he whispered something that made her giggle.

Poppy lowered her gaze and tried to focus on the lesson, but she couldn’t help but let her mind drift to Hogsmeade and the Three Broomsticks, where in only two days’ time, she and Garreth would be sharing a butterbeer and chatting about nothing. Or something. Or everything. And maybe he’d hold her hand. Maybe he’d laugh at her jokes. Maybe he’d pay attention to her properly. Maybe… maybe they’d kiss.

It seemed too much to hope for. It seemed ridiculous. Poppy knew she was a five-foot-fuck-all weirdo with an obsession with magical beasts and few human friends. Garreth was a nearly-six-foot cauldron of charm and excitement. And the object of his interest was a bloody hero. All five-foot-seven of her, her hair like melted chocolate, her eyes like the emerald of her house, all curves and bosom and legs and a laugh like a cannon. Poppy sighed. If she wasn’t so enamoured with Garreth, she might have fallen for Draccie herself. Why, why did it have to be her that Garreth liked? Why someone so nice, so brave, so tough?

Why not her?

_.-~*~-._

By the time Saturday arrived, Poppy was a nervous wreck. She had barely slept a wink, and was up with the dawn, rushing down to the beast pens to play with the Kneazles, hoping their soft fur and rumbling purrs would soothe her nerves. She had hours to go yet, they weren’t due to go to Hogsmeade until four that afternoon, but she couldn’t help it. Natty had told her the night before she’d extended the promised invitations, and all the people she’d asked had accepted.

Vibrating at a frequency high enough to shatter glass, Poppy dashed to the Great Hall to wolf down some breakfast, knowing she wouldn’t see Garreth at this early an hour. He tended to sleep in until at least ten in the morning at the weekend, but it didn’t stop her hoping.

Back in the common room, she paced around her dorm, fumbling around in her closet for something nice to wear. Most of her clothes were her grandmother’s old things, way out of date and style, but comfortable and warm, more practical than pretty. Poppy whimpered softly, pawing through her jumpers and blouses. There was nothing that would be right for a date, nothing at all! She blinked back tears. Garreth would never look twice at her if she dressed like a little old granny who’s favourite pastime was gardening and chicken-keeping! She might as well wear wellington boots!

“Dear me,” came a snooty voice. “I thought it was I that should cry over the state of your wardrobe, Sweeting.”

Poppy spun to see Sacharissa Tugwood striding into their dorm, her pink-hued hair bouncing. Far from feeling slighted, Poppy bounded to her feet, an idea springing into her mind like a crup puppy.

“Sacharissa! I need your help!” she gabbled. “You’re going to the Three Broomsticks with us tonight, right?”

“I am,” Sacharissa flicked a non-existent bit of fluff from her pristine robes. “What of it?”

“I need a new outfit,” Poppy said. “For tonight. Help me.”

Sacharissa raised a brow.

“Please,” Poppy added. “I… you’re right, my clothes are terrible, I need to get better fashion sense, and…”

“I’d LOVE to!” Sacharissa cried, a wide grin on her face. “No time like the present, Sweeting! Let’s go, you’re going to need so much…”

“I only want the one-” Poppy began, but Sacharissa grabbed her hand and bolted for the barrel door, hurtling them both through the castle and out into sunshine.

In Hogsmeade, Sacharissa made a beeline for Gladrags, where Agustus Hill leapt out from behind the counter and embraced the Hufflepuff, air-kissing her cheeks.

“My dear girl, what a delight to see you again! We have a marvellous new selection in store today, and I have some samples for our upcoming Spring Collection, straight from Pairs!” he winked, grasping Sacharissa’s hands. “Would you like to give your thoughts? We always value your imput.”

“Perhaps another day,” she said, and waved a hand at Poppy, hovering by the door, glancing at the robes, blouses and dresses with significant apprehension. “My friend here is after a new wardrobe.”

“Outfit,” Poppy said, hurriedly, as Mr Hill dashed over to her. “I only need one for tonight, I’m going to the Three Broomsticks, and…”

“Ah, I see, I see,” Mr Hill said, taking out a tape measure and waving his wand. It began to measure her, head to toe, shoulder to wrist, eyebrow to ear. “Not to worry, we’ll start with the one, but they always come back for more, don’t they, Miss Tugwood?”

In what Poppy would later term as an exercise in pure humiliation, Mr Hill and Sacharissa dressed her in a seemingly endless parade of increasingly horrifying outfits. The predominant theme seemed to be pink and frilly, pleated skirts and ruffled blouses piling on the chair beside the privacy screen as she grew increasingly hot, sweaty and irritable as she tried on item after item. Each time she stood in front of the mirror, she turned away, growing increasingly distressed as her reflection looked more and more like one of her grandmother’s china dolls, all dressed up and painted and childlike.

She didn’t want to look like that. She didn’t want to look sweet and innocent. She wanted to be dramatic and daring, sultry and seductive, just like Draccie. If that’s what Garreth liked, then she had to be that. Tentatively, she spoke up.

“Maybe something darker? Something a bit… more daring?” she ventured.

Mr Hill blinked. “My dear girl, these are the finest items from our Spring-”

“You know Dracaena Hoctina, right?” she said. “The Hero of Hogwarts?”

“Oh, yes!” Mr Hill practically bounced. “Hardly see her, of course, but I remember as clear as day when she fought off that troll that came charging through our little village…”

“Yeah, I get it,” Poppy said, sullenly. “I want to look like her. Can you get me something like what she wears?”

Mr Hill blinked.

“Well…” he rubbed the back of his neck, and Sacharissa became very interested in a mannequin. “Of course. If that’s what you’d like. But if I may… these suit you so much better,” he indicated the pretty skirts and blouses. “They compliment your…”

“I don’t care,” Poppy pouted. “Make me look cool.”

She left Gladrags an hour later, a smile on her face, a bag in her hand, her new clothes folded neatly and boxed in tissue. She’d seen Sacharissa do her makeup enough for her to know what to do, and she’d agreed to let her borrow some.

Her smile broadened. Garreth better prepare himself. He had no idea what was waiting for him.

_.-~*~-._

She was early to the Three Broomsticks, and she sat at a large table in the corner, nursing a tankard of butterbeer, her heart doing a marvellous impression of a startled Fwooper and flapping against her ribs. She tried to quell it, reassuring herself that if the looks the other patrons had given her when she walked in were any indication, not to mention Sirona’s open-mouthed stare when she approached the bar, she looked as dashing and daring as Dracaena ever had.

Her blouse was coal-grey and spidered with ruby thread around the boddice, her skirt daringly short and ending just above the knee, her stocking matching her blouse. She’d swept her hair back from her face, pinning it in place, showing off her heavily-rouged cheeks and smoky eyes. Perhaps she’d been a little liberal with the khol, but Draccie had thick lashes, even without makeup, and it seemed to make her eyes almost luminous. Her own eyes were mud-brown, but with her heavy application of the khol, surely that’d have the same effect.

Poppy jittered her leg under the table, eyes on the door, until it opened, and Natty strolled in, arm-in-arm with…

Poppy blinked. Amit Thakkar?

They were both smiling, chattering about something as Poppy’s mouth dropped open. Out of everyone in Hogwarts, Amit was the last person she’d expect Natty to go on a date with, and for him to ask her? Goodness.

Her questions stilled as they gazed around the pub, seemingly passing over her, and she waved. Natty blinked, then her features cleared, and she hurried over, leaving Amit at the bar.

“Poppy?” she looked her up and down. “I did not recognise you.”

“I know,” Poppy grinned. “Don’t I look great?”

“You certainly look different,” Natty said, smiling as she took a seat beside her. “Perhaps…” her smile became a little strained. “Your eye makeup is running a little, may I fix it?”

Poppy blinked, and grabbed for the tiny mirror she’d borrowed from Sacharissa. She peered at her reflection.

“It’s fine,” she said, pursing her lips and admiring their scarlet colour. “It’s the same way I did it.”

Natty’s smile was still fixed. “Poppy, you look lovely as you are,” she said. “Perhaps, whoever it is you wish to impress would like to see the real you, and not see you hiding under this paint?”

Poppy pouted. “But this is what he likes,” she said. “He likes dramatic looking girls.”

“Dramatic?” Natty said, faintly. “Poppy, I do not wish to presume to tell you what you should wear, but…”

“Oh, do you like my outfit?” she spread her hands, puffing out her little chest. “I think the embroidery’s really nice, don’t you?”

“It is beautiful,” Natty agreed. “But I thought you would wear something you are comfortable in.”

“I am,” Poppy insisted. “Alright, it’s a little hard to move if I stretch, but that’s fine, right?”

Amit made his way over to the table before Natty could respond, bringing three tankards with him.

“Ah, Poppy, how nice to see you,” he said, with a genuine smile. His eyes lingered on her face a moment before he turned to Natty. “How many are we expecting?”

“A good ten or so others,” Natty replied, her smile softening. “It will be quite the evening.”

Poppy kept quiet as they chatted, preferring to stare at the door, occasionally shifting in her seat to try and find the right pose to show off her figure in her new clothes. They soon stopped trying to draw her into their conversation, and she nibbled her lip, tasting the cloying lipstick. It didn’t feel great, none of the makeup did, but that wasn’t the point. Garreth couldn’t miss her now!

And then there he was, striding into the Three Broomsticks with as much confidence as if he owned the place, Leander at his heels. His smile was wide and perfect, his hair flopping all about his head like a playful Kneazle kitten, his step bouncing. Poppy drew a quick breath, fumbling to sit up straight as she watched him pay for a pair of butterbeers, her heart racing faster with each step he took to their table.

He paused, his brows rising as he took her in. She batted her eyelashes the way she’d seen Draccie do, and gave him a wide, lipsticky smile.

“Hi, Garreth!” she said, a little breathlessly. “Leander,” she added, almost as an afterthought.

“Poppy…” he blinked a bit, then set the tankards on the table. Next to her. Her breath caught, just for a moment, then Leander slid into the seat next to her, half-blocking her view of the Gryffindor she wanted. “Nice to see you. You look… um. Great.”

Her heart soared, and Poppy thought she might take flight.

“Thanks!” she said, brightly, so focused on him that she didn’t notice Sacharissa, Arthur and Samantha join them. She heard Sacharissa’s light gasp, but tuned her out. “How’s your weekend going?”

“Great, thanks,” Garreth said, sipping his butterbeer. “Was looking forward to this.”

Was? Why past tense? Oh, Merlin, had she done something, said something to make him not enjoy it? Poppy’s mind scrambled, a light panic settling on her shoulders until Natty cleared her throat.

“We are mostly here, let us perhaps play some games,” she said, with a wide smile.

“Oh? Who else are we expecting?” Amit said.

“I expect Dracaena and Ominis will join us shortly,” Natty replied, and Poppy’s heart plummeted as Garreth sat up straight.

No… no, it couldn’t be! Natty hadn’t said they were coming! Why was she coming?

“I… didn’t know Draccie was joining us,” she said, meekly, glancing at Garreth. “I thought she had something else on.”

“No, I asked, she said she would,” Natty said, peering at her. “Do you not remember?”

“Oh, yeah,” Poppy said, lamely. “Sure.”

She stared down into her tankard, suddenly bereft. If Draccie was coming, she had no hope of keeping Garreth’s attention now.

And as if on cue, the doors opened, and in she walked, Ominis by her side, his wand out to guide him. Poppy’s heart nearly shattered as Garreth twisted so fast he cricked his neck. Her own shirt was coal grey, like Poppy’s, but the embroidery was emerald, her high-waisted trousers tight and tucked into knee-high boots, a dark cloak about her shoulders.

It was so simple, and so elegant. She wore not a lick of makeup, but somehow, her face was the most stunning in the taproom, the ease of her movement lending an almost ethereal quality to her. Poppy pouted, trying to tell herself that Draccie’s arse was too big, her thighs too thick, her nose turning up too much at the tip, but she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t lie about her friend. Draccie was stunning, to the point that even her blind best friend could clearly tell.

She swanned over to their table, butterbeer in hand, parking herself next to Natsai as Ominis drew her chair out for her.

“Evening all,” she said, her voice loud and cheerful. She blinked as she took in Poppy’s appearance, and suddenly, she realised how stupid she must look, how obvious her imitation must be, how pathetic her attempt to woo Garreth was.

“Damn, Pop,” she said. “I almost didn’t recognise you! You look amazing!”

Poppy froze. “What?”

“Look at you! So bold!” Draccie gazed at her, earnest admiration on her face. “Can I borrow that idea? I’d love my eyes to stand out like yours! And that blouse! I love the colour!”

“Yeah, she looks great!” Garreth said, in a rush. Poppy turned to him, a feeble hope lighting in her, though she knew as well as she knew Jobberknolls loved grubs that he was only saying it to impress Draccie. It was something, at least, to be noticed.

But all the same, as her friends chatted together, laughing and joking and growing more boisterous as the evening wore on, Poppy withdrew into herself, even slipping away to the bathroom to check her face. She almost wept as she took in her appearance, the black eyes and red slash of her mouth, her rouged cheeks standing out like a clown. She looked awful. She scourgified the makeup away, sniffling as she took her hair down, hoping she could slink away from this disaster of an evening.

But no such luck. Draccie was at the bar, and caught her.

“Help me take these over?” she asked, indicating several tankards. She peered a little closer. “You okay, Pop?”

“Fine,” she muttered. “I was just thinking of heading back.”

Dracaena frowned. “You sure? We’re going to play two truths and a lie, and I’ve got some mean lies to tell.”

“I’m sure.”

She couldn’t bear the thought of Garreth mooning over her for another instant. She gave a brave smile, hugged Draccie tightly around the middle, and hurried out, stepping into the cool air.

Only when she was sure there was no one around on the long walk back to the castle did Poppy step off the road and huddle by a tree, weeping softly. Tonight had been a disaster. She’d made herself look a fool in front of Garreth, and for what? She should have known Natty would have invited Draccie, she was the most popular student in the whole school. She should have known better than to draw attention to herself like that.

Poppy sighed, wiping her face. At least she had her beasts. They wouldn’t be stupid and ignore her. If she went and cuddled up with her Puffskeins, maybe she’d think of another way to get Garreth’s attention.

#garreth x poppy #poppy x garreth #garreth weasley x poppy sweeting #poppy sweeting x garreth weasley #poppy sweeting #garreth weasley x mc #unrequited crush #unrequited feelings #eventual romance #eventual happy ending #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #hogwarts legacy writing #ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt x mc

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gainprincess · 7 months ago

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"..."

Saber Alter is confused, because everything feels... familiar in this Chaldea. Familiar to the point of deja vu, though Saber Alter has surely never been summoned here before.

When people pass her by in the halls, they refer to her as 'Salter' or 'Artoria', rather than 'Your Majesty' or 'My King'. save for her Knights of the Round. As if they are familiar with her. As if they were her friends.

A ridiculous notion. A tyrant does not have friends. Especially not ones so large and unwieldy. Honestly, why are they all so immense? It's unfathomably stupid.

Mordred treats her with such affection and open kindness when she sees her again, hugging her so tight she's sure something may break. It's... confusing to see her son so affectionate and caring, as if worried for her, and that makes it all the more confusing when a single cold stare has her sobbing and fleeing into the arms of the false Gawain.

"Hm."

Merlin was odd. He treated her like his normal self would, being the 'delightful' troll he loves to be so often, but he seemed less walled off. Less pained. Like he had been back when she was a little girl, and he was her father. What a time that had been...

And, more importantly... The Maiden of Orleans, Jeanne d'Arc. She seemed so elated to see Saber Alter, saying that her 'sister' would be so very pleased... she seemed all the more disheartened when Saber Alter yanked her hand away after that, disdain in her eyes.

A tyrant does not touch the common folk. Not without good reason, anyway.

And that is all she is.

All she must be.

"Hhhhaaa.... kids. What a pain she's being with no memories... She really did a number on herself after that Avenger's original death. She's lucky I was able to salvage her Saint Graph... unlike Solomon, she's not too great at scrubbing herself from the Throne. Seriously, all that for a girlfriend? Weird."

Merlin shakes her head, massaging her temples.

"Oh, well. I did my good deed for the year. Time to go pig out and bother Arthur."

Indeed, it was Merlin, in a rare case of altruism, that has retrieved Artoria Alter from the pits of damnation. Out of nothing more than good will, she brought her back, albeit not perfectly. It's an immense effort even for a Grand Caster, and something undertaken only under complete focus.

The fact that Merlin has done so, and will likely never recieve recognition for the effort... is odd. It's unlike Merlin at all, and the female one especially so.

Perhaps change, too, is the flavor of Chaldea.

#muse: salter #muse: merlin (proto)#she's not dead anymore guys yay #also she's thin weeee

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gaiusbunnymask · 2 years ago

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rewatch commentary: valiant

Valiant got his snake shield in some sort of black market. I'll assume the market where valiant met the sorcerer is not in Camelot since Merlin comments on the snakes being foreign. most likely it's from the western isles, the same place valiant comes from.

the sorcerer wasn't distrustful of Valiant and looked pretty relaxed while explaining how the snakes where used, thrilled even, so Valiant was not his first client, though he was certainly the last.

the thought of a black market were sorcerers sell their stuff discreetly is very intriguing.

"You see? This is how a true knight behaves, with gallantry and honour."

the scenes with Uther, Valiant and Arthur subtly hint at how much Arthur is feeling the pressure of needing to win to have his father's and the people's approval. and the fact that Uther acts so nice and welcoming to Valiant, even inviting him to be part of the knights of Camelot, seems like something designed to make Arthur feel threatened that someone is trying to take his place. Valiant already has his father's approval and Morgana's attention. Valiant and Arthur both did very well the first two days of the tournament, but Arthur didn't even get a nod from his father, whereas Valiant was openly congratulated.

Valiant winning would destroy Arthur's self-esteem.

so when Arthur summons the court it's not just to prove that Valiant is cheating; consciously or not, he also wants to prove himself to his father, make him see that the man he was clapping on the shoulder two knights ago is actually a fake, unworthy of the king's praise and approval.

which makes the humiliation that follows five times worse.

"The people expect their prince to fight. How can I lead men into battle if they think I'm a coward?"

i liked this shot quite a lot. this episode focuses a lot more on Arthur's struggles and his relationship with his father. when he wins and kills Valiant, the relief in his face it's clear. his father gives him a nod and the crowd cheers in approval. he proved everyone that he wasn't a coward and that he hadn't lied. but oh, the way he sat alone in his room after the humiliation at court. being bound to do what is expected of him no matter he wants or feels. this is all Uther's fault of course.

"And now they see you for what you really are."

the purge has not only made people fear associating themselves with any kind of magic or magic user, but for the last 20-21 years, and then in the canon timeline, they've only seen harmful and dark magic being used, so this helps build up the prejudice against it that sorcerers are bad people and that people that consort with them are equally dangerous. just look at valiant. the magic of the snake shield is exposed right in front of everyone, the king included, and it's being used by an ambitious man for his own selfish gains.

said man then tries to kill their prince, but it's thankfully thwarted. people like Valiant and the sorcerers that make those types of weapons contribute to giving magic a bad reputation, especially in the eyes of the people that grew up with the magic ban (like Gwaine and the other knights, except Lancelot). most of the "good" sorcerers are probably dead or in hiding, and if they do anything good, they probably keep it a secret. that makes dark magic the type of sorcery that the people in Camelot are more exposed to. this confirms their bias and inadvertently backs up Uther's claims that magic is a corrupting force that must be purged from the land.

Some more thoughts on the episode:

-ok NO ONE ever includes the part where Merlin beheads the snake as one of his coolest moments. he was SO badass in that scene, and he barely knew how to hold a sword correctly at the beginning of the episode!

-i think this episode is so underrated in terms of Merlin being bamf. he sneaks around, breaks into Valiant's rooms using a spell to unlock the door, perfected a difficult spell in one night.

-the Arthur x Morgana was rampant in this episode

-Arthur is not his father exhibit one: As he escorts Morgana to the feast he tells her that Uther will never apologize for not believing him about Valiant. Then not a minute later he goes to apologize to Merlin for sacking him.

-Merlin may not be good at thinking things through before acting but he sure is creative when it comes to solving problems.

#zy rewatchs merlin #bbc merlin #merlin meta #valiant #uther pendragon #arthur pendragon #merlin

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moongurl95 · 1 year ago

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Chapter 7 – Welcome to Hogsmeade

“Accio!”

Beatrice summoned a flying Field Page towards her as she walked through the West of Hogsmeade, and while she would have preferred to try casting non-verbally again just to avoid the curious glances of some of the village’s residents, she’d rather not accidentally summon a wandering owl straight to her face. Additionally, there was also the matter of distance and weight to consider when using this particular ‘Force spell’— she was actually hoping to work on the ability to throw heavier objects around as a means of defense when push goes to shove— but there was the matter of her current wand starting to prove uncooperative when casting even the simpler spells.

She wrinkled her nose as she looked down at her Field Guide, seems like the remaining pages of the 55 it indicated was going to have to wait until she had all the time to spend in exploring the magical village. The tiny beads that decorated her small drawstring bag jangled as she tucked it away in her robes, along with her Field Guide, as Beatrice now made way for the last stop in her list.

“Try to dodge away from trouble, if you ever find yourself in one.”

Andrew’s whispered words on her way to Hogsmeade, now rang as a warning in her mind as she stopped just outside of Ollivanders’, the quaint shop’s windows reflecting back an image of her— robes that looked a tad too big, and her mousy brown hair framing eyes that only ever made her Nana look at her forlornly, if not sometimes just a bit accusatory— She grasped the door’s handle to keep herself from falling further into self-deprecation, welcomed by a bell’s lively jingle to signal her entry.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : –. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧

“Merlin’s. Blooming. Beard. Not again.”

Gerbold Ollivander muttered to himself as he took stock of his raw wand materials from his shop’s backroom, his suppliers were definitely finding it harder to travel in-between hamlets these days, but these wands won’t make or repair themselves, would they? Gathering several of the wand boxes in his arms, he then heard the telltale chime announcing a customer, “I’ll be right with—” Planning to pop out and quickly declare he’d just take a moment to organize the boxes he held, Ollivander stopped short as he took a good look at the student that peered back at him curiously. Not just any student, but the new fifth-year Professor Matilda Weasley had owled him about earlier this morning, “Ah! It’s you! Um, just a moment, please.” He quickly dropped the wand boxes in his backroom for later, choosing to focus first on the curious case in front of him as he stepped out.

“Hello sir. I’m looking for—”

“For a new wand, yes. It’s about time.” Brushing at the countertop, he tried to remember the details Matilda had provided him regarding a certain Beatrice Hayes and the otherwise mysterious circumstances relating to her admittance at Hogwarts at a later age.

“Yes, I— about time?” The new student that stared back owlishly at him did strike a familiar pair of eyes, he just couldn’t quite put his finger on who… He remembered the detail of her being a Muggle-born though, it usually helped in providing a couple wood wand choices he’d deemed compatible to match with its new owner.

“Well, you’re our new fifth-year student, are you not? Oh, what am I saying? Of course you are. Gerbold Ollivander’s the name! But, of course, you’ll have heard of the Ollivanders. I’m sure. Finest wandmakers in the world. It’s a pleasure to meet you, truly.” He offered both hands to greet the curious, young witch, knowing that blood status wasn’t everything and that he was determined to find a match to the spark of magic he’d felt from Beatrice’s grasp, “Now, come with me. Let’s find you the perfect wand, shall we?”

He surmised she might need something to match her obvious eagerness for wielding magic, and he might have had the perfect wand in mind, “Hmmmmm. No, no, no, not you— Ah, yes— yes. Powerful core, ten and a half inches— you might do.” Hovering his hand over the box he knew held a Sycamore wand, he then offered it to Beatrice, “Here, give this one a try.”

Watching her pull out a gold-rimmed wand, he then interjected upon seeing Beatrice only hold onto it awkwardly as she smiled in a way of expecting something to fall into place.

“Go ahead, give it a swish!”

And while the measly spark that followed perturbed Ollivander, he thought this merely a fluke as the Phoenix core the wand held had already spent a while in his shop since it could find its chosen owner.

“Hm, how odd though… Once more. Come on, really swish it.”

By the time the wand flew out of Beatrice’s hand and proceeded to errantly leave sparks of magic in his shop, did he finally relent that this was a Phoenix yet to be tamed by its rightful owner.

“Oh, dear. Well this isn’t a good match at all, is it?” He awkwardly laughed as he gingerly placed the box back in its shelf, assuring Beatrice, “We’ll find you something. Not to worry.” Surmising he needed to look for something directly relating to this mysterious student, he remembered about the dragon attack he’d caught in whispers from the townsfolks regarding a Minister’s supposed death yesterday on a trip to Hogwarts. Although Ollivander had yet to receive an owl from his old friend, Eleazar, to know more about the incident’s details, Professor Weasley had hinted on the rather interesting arrival of this new student in his presence. Surely a perilous journey like that would be enough to last a lifetime, so perhaps…

“Hmm— no, not you… Ah, perhaps— yes— a rare wood. 13 ¾ inches, dragon heartstring.” Mr. Ollivander looked at the box he’d pulled before glancing at the new student in front of him, seemingly deciding it would be a more compatible match than the first, “Let’s give this one a try.”

And although Beatrice now seemed hesitant to pull out the bulkier wand from its box, she still gave a decisive nod towards Ollivander before swishing, “Ah!— Oh! Oh, my— Oh goodness. Looks like it’s back to the shelf for you.” Despite the shop owner’s surprised exclamations, Ollivander noticed that the Fir wand had only flew out Beatrice’s hands with minimal errant sparks of magic. He now at least had the wand’s core right this time.

“Though this is proving to be trickier than I had anticipated. How perplexing.” He’d thought back to how Beatrice had quite the grip during their handshake— someone ready for a duel in the face of danger— he’d deduced, and Ollivander knew of only one wand he had produced with a dragon heartstring, “Where are you? Perhaps you— Ah. There you are.”

He summoned a rather dusty box in the upper shelves, “Yes, I think you might be the one. Here, take it.” While not as fancifully decorated than the previous two, Ollivander highly-prized the Aspen wood for its stylish resemblance to ivory, “What do you think?”

Watching with bated breath as Beatrice held the wand in her hand, she had only just raised it when the tip glowed a blinding white, surrounding the enclosed shop in a gust of warm air that made Ollivander himself gasp in giddy wonder, “Extraordinary. Another wand, another beginning of a bright and magical future!” It also wasn’t every day that he’d get to witness such a curious show of compatibility between a wand and its found owner, “Now, how did that feel?”

“Good— different. I sensed a sort of surge of some kind.” Ollivander noted the unsure tone in Beatrice answer and made to assuage her, “A match. Your connection seemed particularly powerful. The right wand will learn from you just as you learn from it.”

“I’m eager to try it out.”

“I would imagine so. A wand with a dragon heartstring core is capable of dazzling magic. And the bond between you and your wand should only grow stronger. Do not be surprised at your new wand’s ability to perceive your intentions— particularly in a moment of need.”

“That sounds wonderful, Mr. Ollivander. Speaking of which, I think it’s only right I return my second-hand wand back in your care, sir.”

“Oh?” How intriguing, Ollivander had thought as he motioned for Beatrice to place the second-hand wand in the now empty box that previously contained her new wand. Though upon further inspection, he couldn’t help exclaim, “A Yew wand! Proven to be quite the fierce protector of others in its care. Had Professor Fig told you whom its previous owner was?” Ollivander asked off-handedly as he now held the wand closely to study it.

“I’m afraid not, sir. He only told me it was lent from Ollivanders’. I— was hoping you’d know? It has served me well during my introduction to Magic under Professor Fig’s mentorship…”

Curious, indeed. Ollivander now looked towards the young girl, thinking on how to gently break her the news of the original wand owner’s possible fate, “Judging from the Unicorn hair core this wand contains, it came from a time when I was still apprenticing in this very shop under my father. I’m afraid I’d have to further look into it, if you’re keen to know more?”

“Oh. I don’t mean to leave any more work than you already have, sir. I’ll just have to notify Professor Fig that I’ve already returned the wand you’ve lent me.” Ollivander could only watch Beatrice smile with a hint of disappointment at not having her curiosity sated.

“Of course, I’ll let you get to it. Do come and see me again if ever I can be of further assistance.”

He silently watched as the door signaled Beatrice’s exit, disappointment or not, he still had to confirm with Eleazar how in Merlin’s name he came into possession of their dear missing friend’s wand.

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“Well, that’s everything. Better go and find Sebastian.” Beatrice thought to herself as she headed towards the town circle, still in a bit of a daze from the ordeal she’d experienced at the infamous wandmaker’s shop. Walking slowly, she palmed her new wand’s rough wooden surface— so unlike her previous one with its smooth wand handle and darker glean— this one gave off an ivory sheen from its crooked sides, evoking a bittersweet remembrance from her before Beatrice frowned at remembering the ancient whispers she seemingly heard upon taking hold of a wand that supposedly chose her as its owner.

She doubted Mr. Ollivander saw the glow that surrounded her for a moment back at the shop, but the steady built of power she was feeling earlier in the day also thankfully dissipated along with the surge of energy she’d felt. Right now, she felt practically weightless.

Spying a flying page that was most likely part of her Field Guide gliding down a discreet set of wooden stairs off the side of the busy streets of Hogsmeade, Beatrice had only just pointed her wand in its direction when it immediately went flying straight back at her! She only had seconds to shield herself with the hardbound as the page slotted itself right in. This only made her stare in disbelief at the wand she held before choosing to gingerly pocket it.

Beatrice was still shaking her head in wonder, sure of the fact she hadn’t even thought of the non-verbal summoning charm yet when her wand took its own initiative… She was still in the process of wrapping her head around what she’d just witnessed when she took note that Sebastian wasn’t anywhere near the town circle he said they’d meet. Though it didn’t take her too long in deciding to wait around, as a delightful collection of sweet scents drafted her way. Enticed, she let her feet lead the way towards a shop called Honeydukes, a quick Revelio confirmed that this establishment was the source of the sweet scents as Beatrice spied the colorful produce displayed. A grin slowly spread on her face as she proceeded inside, after all, it didn’t hurt to purchase something of a more guilty pleasure.

next chapter ⤜⤏

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts #hogwarts legacy mc #hogwarts legacy oc #hl mc #hl oc #beatrice hayes #hogwarts legacy characters #hogwarts legacy sebastian #sebastian x mc #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow #ominis gaunt #sebastian x mc x ominis #ominis x oc #hogwarts legacy imagine #hogwarts legacy fandom #hogwarts legacy fanfic #writing in progress

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