Lemon & Cherry

Sitting in a patch of sunlight, you were curled up in a chair with one of the books Remus had bought for you. You absent-mindedly ran your fingers over the words “nocturnal sphere.”  Letting out a breath, you chanced a glance at the clock on the wall. It’s past eight. They were supposed to be back by seven.

Tensing up, you began to chew on your lower lip – No, stop that. You forced yourself to focus on the text again.  Where was I? Oh, right, nocturnal sphere… You read the full sentence again: There are creatures of a nocturnal nature, of which many still reside within the known human world and experience space, time, phenomenon within roughly the same objective parameters as human beings do.  In contrast, creatures of the nocturnal sphere experience a different experience of reality altogether.  It is theorized that the Moon Rabbit belongs to the second category.  If this is so, even information about the Moon Rabbit, beyond basic information, may not be perceived by the usual methods of human perception, as a different objective realm is not easily transcribed, even by the best scholars of the nocturnal sphere.

Just then, you heard a cacophony of voices rumble to life below you. The Order members have returned! You leapt out of your chair and hurried down.

“Remus!”

Hearing you call out for him, Remus turned around and opened his arms. You leapt right into them.

Remus tried to reassure you. “Lovely, I’m fine. I told you not to worry about me.”

“Oh, but I did.” You squeezed Remus tightly in your arms. “Why were you so late tonight?”

Remus answered, “There were some unexpected visitors tonight, and it complicated things a bit.”

From beside him, Mad-Eye Moody grunted out, “Dementors. Three of them came out of bloody nowhere. If it hadn’t been for Lupin’s Patronus, we’d have lost someone today, I tell you – CONSTANT VIGILANCE!”

You jumped as Moody shouted in your face.

“Mad-Eye…” Remus sighed, "you don't need to do that."

Mad-Eye's magical eye swiveled over to you, as he muttered, "You're too soft with her, boy."

"I don't think so," Remus disagreed, though he kept his voice light and pleasant. "But even if I am, that wouldn't concern you, Mad-Eye."

With a dissatisfied scoff, Mad-Eye stomped away, asking aloud, “Is Dumbledore here yet?”

“He’s on his way,” Sirius replied from across the room.

You frowned. “Dementors… They’ve been showing up on nearly every mission lately.”

Remus nodded wearily. “Fudge can kid himself all he wants about the dementors being loyal to the Ministry, but it’s clear that they’ve allied with Voldemort.”

Your frown deepened. But then, you realized – “Wait a second. If your Patronus was strong enough to chase away three dementors, does that mean it was a full-fledged Patronus?"

Remus avoided your gaze as he replied quietly, “Yes.”  

“You know, I’ve never seen your corporeal Patronus. Not even when you gave Harry lessons.”

“Well, I prefer not to cast it.”

Yes, but why? You watched Remus curiously for a beat longer, but when you saw his ears slowly turning pink, you nestled your face into his chest and said softly, “Okay. In any case, if it helped bring you back to me tonight – that’s all I could ask for.” You let out a long, slow breath. I was so worried tonight, especially with how late they were.

Feeling you press into him, Remus looked down at you.  He slowly took in your rather haggard state – your unkempt hair, the dark bags under your eyes, and your lower lip, which was slightly puffy from being chewed on. It wears away at Lovely, he recognized, to have to wait for me like this so often, while fearing the worst.

“Lovely, look at me.”

"Hm?"

Remus pressed his palms against your cheeks and kissed you. He kissed you, moving his mouth against yours slowly and lovingly. This was Remus’s way of reassuring you that he was right here with you so you could shake off that terrible anxiety that had been haunting you all evening. Likewise, it helped Remus shake off that horrible fear he’d experienced when he realized the mission was at risk and lives were on the line, as well as any lingering effects from fighting off the dementors.

Feeling Remus’s shakiness slowly fading away, you paused to ask, in a soft murmur, "Do you need anything? I can bring you some chocolate or tea, or anything else that might make you feel better.”

Remus murmured, a bit raspily, against your lips, “I have what I need to feel better, right here.” Putting his arm around your waist, he pulled you into the adjacent hallway, so that the two of you were hidden from view from the other Order members, though they were still mere feet away.

“Oh, my,” you whispered teasingly, as you fell back against the hallway wall, “learned some lines from Sirius, have we?”

“Hm, no,” Remus hummed. “I don’t need anything from Sirius to figure out what I want to say to you.” He put his arm up above your head, leaned against the wall, and gazed down at you. “Besides, you wouldn’t like anything Sirius says, would you?”

You smiled. “No, of course not. Only what you say to me, Remus.”

“That’s right.” Remus leaned down. Brushing his lips across your cheek, he whispered adoringly, “That’s my girl.”

“Your good girl…” you whispered back wantingly, blushing a little at how obviously needy you were being.

Remus smiled back. “Yes, that’s right. My good girl.” His eyes turned warm, as he acknowledged, “My sweetheart, waiting for me all evening. It must have been tiring.”

“No. You were the one on a dangerous mission. All I had to do was sit tight and wait.”

“But look at you…” Remus gently ran his thumb over your lips, pausing to softly swipe over the part of your lower lip that was a little puffy and bruised from all the worried gnawing you’d done.  “You worry about me, do you?”

“Yes, of course.”

Your eyes met Remus’s, and you paused. Because the way he was looking at you…

Before you knew it, you were slowly falling to your knees in front of Remus. You landed softly before him, and your hands went straight to his hips and you grasped onto him as you looked up at him with eyes that begged for him.

Remus’s breath hitched. For a moment, his hand grazed the back of your head, with his fingers shifting gently over your hair, as if he meant to gently guide your head forward, to have you press your mouth against him. But then, he swallowed hard and his eyes narrowed. He leaned over and, sliding his hands under your arms, he picked you right back up, making you stand again.

“Now, none of that,” Remus said sternly.

“What? Why not? You don’t like it?”

“Well – Well - ” Remus stammered, before he gathered his mind back up again and managed to say, “There’s no need for you to do such ridiculous things for me.”

“But there is… I need it,” you confessed in a low, soft whisper. “I need you, Remus. When will you acknowledge that?”

“So you insist on being difficult with me, hm?”

A small, rather mischievous smile appeared on your lips as you murmured back, “It’s not difficult at all to get on my knees for you, though.”

Remus sighed. But then, rather heatedly, Remus began to kiss your face all over. “You foolish – kiss – little thing – kiss – begging for – kiss – something – kiss – you never – kiss - need to beg for.”

You leaned forward slightly, intending to kiss him back, but Remus, with his other hand, grasped your face to stop you. “Hold still, now, and let me have you. A little treat…”

A soft, needy whisper escaped your lips. “But if it’s a – a treat, you – mm - please, you – you have to let me have you too.”

Remus smiled a little at this. “Well, sure, it’s a treat, but who said it’s a treat for you?”

You half-scowled and half-pouted at this. Remus chuckled as he felt your hands grip the front of his shirt tightly, and you tugged at him a little. “All right, Lovely,” he obliged. "You can have me, too." Taking his hand away from your face, he leaned down a bit more and pressed his lips warmly against yours again.

At once, you kissed him back. You leapt up lightly onto your toes to kiss him deeper. Your hands snuck into his hair and your fingers twisted gently in his soft locks. “Mm,” you breathed out happily.

For a long moment, the two of you stayed like that. You kissed each other deeply, feeling each other’s soft lips and letting each other’s warmth ground you both again. Slowly but surely, the kiss began to get more heated. Remus began to press back into you ever so slightly, pressing you up against the wall behind you. As you were on your tiptoes, to help you, Remus naturally slid his knee between yours, but as the kiss kept going and you began to come undone a little and melt, you began to sink back down on your feet again, until you felt his knee between your thighs.

"Mm," you breathed out again, and this time, your voice was a little softer and lower - needier, one might say. At the same time, you shifted a little, and Remus felt you getting all plush on his knee. To help you balance, he put his hands gently against your waist, holding you so could rub yourself a bit on him.

"Ah..." you moaned out. Remus was still kissing you throughout all this, so when you let out a soft moan, it came out muffled. Knowing that you were beginning to get all warmed up for him, and feeling rather heated himself, Remus kissed you harder, now pressing you up against the wall entirely, and his hands slipped right under the hem of your shirt and jumper, feeling up your soft waist and tummy all over. You moaned again and you clung onto Remus’s shoulders as you started to build up a nice, steady rhythm of shifting your hips against him. Naturally, your breaths started to come out in soft, little pants.

Remus whispered lowly and wantingly, “Oh, Lovely,” and you clutched harder at him and stared up at him with desperate, needy eyes.

“Remus,” you mumbled out, “please…”

Remus wrapped his arms tightly your waist then, for the sight of your pretty face begging like that, with your soft little puppy eyes staring up at him, chased out every thought in his mind except to pull you into his arms and take you up to bed to fulfill your every wish.

"Don't worry, and don't beg," Remus whispered. "I've got you, Lovely." His hands began to tighten on your waist when -

“Dumbledore’s here!” Sirius called out. “Meeting’s about to get started.”

Startled, you and Remus instantly let go of each other.

“Um…” You coughed a little, and a blush appeared across your cheeks as you murmured, a tad sheepishly, “Welcome back.” You vaguely patted at his chest, smoothing out the many wrinkles you’d created from gripping at the front and shoulders of his shirt and jacket.  “Sorry,” you whispered. “I’m getting carried away, when I shouldn’t be.”

Watching your small hands pass over his chest, Remus replied kindly, "it's not your fault. I was the one who whisked you away."

"But I was the one who got onto my knees," you pointed out.

"Well, I s'pse that's true." Remus took your hands in his and lovingly kissed your fingers. "You knew I couldn't resist you if you did that."

Remus stayed with you for a moment longer, unwilling to leave you. But when the sounds of the crowd indicated that everyone was headed into the dining room for the Order meeting, he finally said, “I suppose I should be heading to the dining room, too. I have to give my mission report to Dumbledore.”

“Oh, right.” You let go of Remus and started to turn away, when Remus reached out and grabbed your arm.

"Wait, Lovely."

You looked at him curiously. “Yes?”

“I’ll show you my corporeal Patronus soon.”

You blinked in surprise. "Oh..."

Remus squeezed your arm affectionately before he let go. Then, he headed out of the hallway and effortlessly slipped in with the crowd of Order members once more.

You stared after Remus, with your heart fluttering and cheeks blushing, and you had to take another moment to tuck away your heart, which you swore would be visible, somehow, to every person in the room, if you didn’t manage to calm yourself down before you rejoined the crowd.

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

One week later.

Just before your Order shift at Hogsmeade and Remus’s shift at Hogwarts, the two of you visited a bookstore in Hogsmeade together, at your request.

Remus was generally browsing the books in the “Dark Creatures” section. You were in the same section – only you were on your hands and knees, determinedly reaching across the lowest shelf and stretching your hand towards the very back to get the book you wanted.

Remus had just finished thumbing through the book he was holding titled, “The Fanged and Furious – A Study of Sharp Protrusions and Their Related Temperaments” when – “Aargh,” you grumbled, and, following the noise, he looked down.

“Er, Lovely? May I ask what you're doing?”

Your head and chest had completely disappeared into the shelves, and your butt was waving in the air, with your jeans slowly but surely sliding down your curve.

“Remus?" you called back. "You remember I let you have the last potato just now, at dinner?”

Remus said knowingly, “Stuck?”

“Um… A bit…”

Remus chuckled. He knelt down and, putting his hands on your hips, he gently pulled you back to guide you out from between the shelves.

It was quite a funny sight, to see you dragged out limply, with your hair all frazzled from static, and your left cheek covered with dust.  Remus used his sleeve to wipe your cheek. He also discreetly pulled the back of your pants up.

“Whew, what would I have done without you? You leaned forward humbly to give Remus a kiss on his cheek. But then, a victorious smile spread across your face as you held up the book you’d been after. “I wasn’t sure if they’d have it, but they do!”

Remus read aloud, “Shifters and Spheres – Animus Nocturna.” Then, he blinked in surprise as you shoved the book under your jumper.

“Uh, I’d be happy to pay for the book,” Remus offered, confused. “I know neither of us make much, but we don’t have to resort to a life of crime just yet.” 

“What!” you said indignantly. “What d'you take me for? A thief?"

“No,” Remus replied hastily. But a beat later, he amended, “Just shy of one, though - ” He cut off when he saw you narrow your eyes at him.

“Hmpfh. You think less of me than I thought.” With your hair still quite frazzled and the book still under your jumper, you marched to the counter to buy the book. To Remus’s complete bemusement, you made the cashier peek down your jumper to look at the book to ring it up.

You paid the cashier. As the cashier handed you back your receipt, his eyes flickered up to your face. “Hey, wait,” he blurted out. “Aren’t you Scamander’s girl?”

You frowned. “What?”

“Yeah, it was a while ago now, but the Daily Prophet said that you were either his girlfriend or some weird pet he was conducting experiments on - ”

“Excuse me? Some weird pet he was – what?” Your hand shot out of nowhere as you abruptly grabbed the front of the cashier’s shirt.

“I’m not saying it was true!’ The cashier hastily put his hands up in surrender. “It’s just what I read!”

Remus appeared from behind you. He put his arm around your shoulders and pulled you back from the cashier - and then he kept his arm around you, holding you tight to his side.

Shucks, I overreacted, you thought, embarrassed at how Remus was holding onto you as though you needed to be kept at bay. You felt quite self-conscious about these more unstable aspects of yourself around Remus. It wasn’t that Remus did anything to make you feel ashamed. Still, you felt ashamed because you wanted to reciprocate how reliable and kind of a partner he was to you. Back when you were at Hogwarts, whenever someone bullied you, you weren’t afraid of giving back as could as you got. You’d trade insults and jabs without holding back, and whenever the bullies ruined your clothes or left marks on you, you would refuse to patch it up, to force the bullies to confront what they’d done to you. However, once Remus entered your life, you found that his gentle, thoughtful energy made you come to terms with your own vulnerability and recognize your own desire to rise above it all. You still remembered the time Remus asked you why you wanted to find the Nine-Tailed Fox, and you’d told him the truth – because the Fox seemed free. That was when you realized that you, too, wanted to be free. You didn’t want to bully the bullies; you just wanted to be yourself and be okay. There was also that day when Remus had broken down in front of you, suddenly hugging you and not letting you go for a while. And you’d thought that it was because he was upset about something in his own life. But he had only been upset for you and upset that you were hiding how hurt you were. That kindness of his sparked to life a deep desire in you to be able to give that kindness back, and, to your own surprise, your single-minded, individualistic desire to go after the Nine-Tailed Fox all by yourself, broke a little and had to make way as you developed a newfound desire to become the kind, reliable, and gentle person that Remus was to you.

Now, since Remus constantly assured you that he loved your adventurous spirit (which you reciprocated in your reassurance to him that you were delighted by his mischievous side), you worried less about this aspect of yourself. But every once in a while, like when you accidentally shouted at Remus’s parents, or when Moody would occasionally veto your participation in a high-stakes mission because he considered you too reactive, or that night you’d taken off after that glimmer of moonlight, only to come home empty-handed hours after you’d promised Remus you’d be home, this feeling - this low, thrumming uncertainty that you still weren’t the person you wanted to be for Remus – came back again.

Going a bit limp in Remus’s arms as you self-reflected, you only vaguely heard him say to the cashier, “While it’s really not any of your concern, let me clarify for you: She isn’t Rowan’s anything, only his friend and – well, I s’pse they have an author-publisher relationship, but that’s neither here nor there - what I mean to say is that she’s my – my wo – wife.” He paused, surprised by his own words, but he hastily carried on, “Anyways, we’ve paid for the book, so we’ll be off.” Still holding you to his side, tucked under his arm, Remus whirled the both of you around and marched you straight out of the bookstore.

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

Remus led you some ways down the road before he let you go. "Are you all right?"

"Of course I am. Sorry about that,” you said ruefully. “I guess I was only one step away from becoming a criminal – but a murderer instead of a book thief. Thanks for stopping me.”

Remus chuckled. “No problem. Anyhow, I should head up to the castle now.”

“Okay.” You stepped towards Remus to give him a kiss, only to see that he was looking away from you, down at the ground. “Remus?”

“Hm? Oh, sorry.” He leaned forward and quickly gave you a kiss.

“Is something bothering you?” You reached out and gently held onto the front of his cloak, asking through your actions that he look at you now.

Remus stayed with you, but he went back to looking at the ground. "It's nothing, Lovely."

You tried a guess. “It’s not because the cashier mentioned Rowan, is it?”

“No, of course not.” Remus finally gave you a sheepish grin as he joked, “The cashier was just behind on his newspaper reading, clearly. If he’d kept up with the news, he’d have seen the snippet my parents saw and known that we were together.”

“Well, thank you for defending my honor,” you said. “It was very sweet. You saying that I’m yours now.” But then, you paused. You hadn’t been paying attention at the time to what Remus had been saying, as you had been too busy reflecting on your own faults, but slowly, it came back to you. “Did you… call me your - ?”

Remus interjected, “I should get going, or else I might be late for my shift at Hogwarts.”

“Oh, right.”

Remus slipped his hand on the back of your neck and he kissed your forehead. “Have a good watch," he murmured softly. "Be careful now. Don’t get too relaxed.”

“Okay,” you promised. “You, too. Oh, and say hello to Harry if you happen to run into him.”

Remus nodded. He turned away and headed down the path that led to the castle.

You watched him go, with the front of your arms still crossed tightly over your chest, where your jumper bulged out from the new book you’d bought. Was it just me or did Remus look slightly sad just now?

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

Damn it, Remus sighed in his head. What was all that today? I’ve got to get a grip. It was silly enough that I felt defensive before a complete stranger about my and Lovely’s relationship, but then to go and call her my wife… Merlin, why did I do that? It’s only that I got all caught up in my own mind. Calling Lovely my ‘girlfriend’ seems far too casual, so I started to say that she was my woman, but then that sounded desperately outdated, as if I were claiming some strange ownership over her. So then, somehow, ‘woman’ turned into ‘wife’ and… Remus didn’t realize it, but he was slowly face-palming himself in the middle of the street as he trudged up towards the castle.

But, in fact, I did bring this point up before with Lovely, after she called me Mr. Wicked for sending that Christmas Cracker to Snape. I tried to ask her that night if she’d ever consent to being “Mrs. Wicked.” Only, she didn’t seem to hear me – Well, understandable, given that she was – er – busy -  A memory flashed across Remus’s mind, where he had you completely bent over the desk. His breath hitched as he recalled the way your shoulders had shivered and tensed every time he pushed into you, and how your hair fell forward, exposing the back of your neck, which was flushed all pink, showing the effort it cost you as you took him so well. She felt so good, with her thighs spread out for me and her hips pinned against the desk, letting me rut into her hard from behind, until she was shaking all over, and I wanted to wrap my arms around her and protect her, but then her pussy tightened all over my cock, and I all but blanked out from bliss. Remus let out a shuddering breath. Stop that, now. He shook his head to wake himself up.

“Remus!”

Startled, Remus’s head popped up. Was that Lovely’s voice just now? Or did I imagine that?

Just then, you popped into view. You were out of breath, and your jumper was still bulging in the front from the book you had shoved in there. “Didn’t you hear me? I’ve been calling for you since all the way back there.”

“Lovely!” Remus was taken aback. “Why aren't you down at Hogsmeade? Your shift - ”

“I still have ten minutes. Besides, this is more important.” You grabbed the front of Remus’s cloak with a strong grasp, tightening your fingers around the wool fabric. “I couldn’t let you go like that.”

“Like what?"

Letting out a hard breath, you looked up at Remus with a determined gaze that made Remus pause. Because he’d seen this look of yours before – back when you had bravely given him a chocolate bar and told him, “We can be anything you want” and then Remus had run away, terrified of his own feelings for you. Only, you’d chased after him, and you’d grabbed him, just like this, and made him stay right in front of you until he’d finished all his obligatory stupid stumbling and mumbling and finally gotten up the courage to kiss you. And now, so many years later, here you were, standing in front of him and holding onto him once again.

“Remus, I won’t pretend that I didn’t hear you,” you said straightforwardly. “You called me your wife, didn’t you?”

Remus’s eyes widened. “I – Well, yes, but I didn’t mean it- ”

“You didn’t mean it?” Your eyes softened towards sadness.

“No, that’s not…!” Remus bit down hard on his lower lip, as his words failed him. Damn it. Damn it. Damn it.

You saw the complicated, troubled thoughts crashing about Remus's head. Still, your voice stayed firm as you said, “Well, you think about it, okay? Girlfriend, wife, whatever – it’s all fine with me, Remus, I promise. But tell me, once you have your answer."

“Tell you what?” Remus choked out hoarsely. “Answer to what, exactly?”

“How you feel about me… What I am to you… What you want to be with me… I’d like to know what you think of all that.” You smiled brightly as you spoke aloud the same words you had all those years ago, but with much more confidence this time - “Because, you know, we can be anything you want to be.” You leaned into him and snuck a little kiss on the underside of his jaw before you let go of his jacket and stepped back. “I just wanted you to remember that. That’s all. Okay, I really do have to run now. See you back home!” You waved frantically at Remus as you raced down the path, back towards Hogsmeade.

Remus blinked, blinded somewhat by the early evening sun streaming down from the sky. For a moment, he wondered if he’d imagined it all, for you were already gone, down the hillside. But then, he reached up and patted the front of his jacket, where he’d felt the outline of your book pressing into his chest, and he knew from that little detail that it must have all been quite real.

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

Sitting at the bar amongst other customers in the Hog’s Head, you watched the clock hand tick to ten o’clock, indicating the end of your watch. Another ten minutes passed, as you waited for Remus.

Just then, Aberforth leaned over the bar and muttered, “To the storage room. There’s a message for you.”

You leapt out of your seat and hurried into the vacant storage room. As soon as you closed the door behind you, a Patronus emerged, glowing in that magical blue-silver light. A wolf… You paused, for it was both familiar and unfamiliar, all at once.

The wolf Patronus opened its jaws and began to speak, and instantly (perhaps even the moment before it began to speak) you knew it was Remus’s Patronus. Oh, you realized, so this is his corporeal Patronus. I always knew he could conjure one, but he never wanted to. Now I see. It's because his Patronus takes the shape of a wolf. It must have reminded him of his werewolf nature, and he didn't like that, I suppose. But this is what it looks like. Hm… It’s quite a sizeable wolf, surprisingly.

The wolf spoke in Remus’s light, gentle voice – “Lovely, everything’s all right. I’m sorry if I startled you. The Headmaster wishes for me to stay a little later tonight, to discuss some future plans. I don’t know how long this will take, but I don’t want you waiting at the bar all by yourself for me. Go home first. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” The wolf seemed to pause, and the light swirling around and inside it intensified for a brief moment, as it murmured, “Now, get home safe, my love.”

You reached out towards the wolf, knowing full well you couldn’t touch it. Still – Your hand went through empty air, and the wolf’s chest turned into hazy silver light for a moment. You stared up at it and you whispered, “Okay, Remus wolf…”

The wolf nodded once, and then it disappeared, evaporating into nothing.

You stared up at the empty air for a moment longer. I think it had a little tuft of hair on its forehead, the way Remus has his little curl of hair he can never quite tuck away. You smiled a little.

You walked over to the storage shelves. Reaching in between two huge sacks of grain, you pulled your book out (which you had stashed there for safe keeping) and shoved it under your jumper.

You left the storage room and returned to the bar, which seemed so noisy to you after the hushed atmosphere of the storage room.

“All right, Aberforth,” you called. “I’ll be on my way, then.”

Aberforth nodded, and you slipped out of the Hog’s Head.

As usual, you walked down to the end of the road to Apparate. Standing in the long, swaying grasses under a full moon, with the sparkling silver lake barely visible through the tree line, you looked around you to make sure you hadn’t been followed.

Once you were certain you were alone, you pulled out your book. Now, if my research is right, this book will reveal further information about the Moon Rabbit under the light of the full moon. You flipped through the index at the back first – Moon Rabbit, mentioned on pages 67-88. You thumbed back to page 67, which featured some black text and a map, also printed in black ink. But does it have more to show me? That’s the question.

You laid out the book completely, gently flattening pages 67 and 68. You tilted the far edge of the book away from you slightly, so that the full moon would cast its light upon it.

You waited. A minute ticked by, and then another, and then - You gasped as a silver web of ink began spreading all over the pages, etching out further words and details atop the black text.  You looked down at it, reading it furiously, devouring the information with your eyes. 

You did this for each set of pages, until you reached the end of page 88. By that time, night had well fallen and the crickets were chirping loudly in the long grass.

You sucked in a breath of surprise when you realized how late it had gotten. Oh Godric, Remus expected me to go straight back to Grimmauld Place. I hope it isn’t too late, though judging from how high the moon is in the sky, it might be.

You hurriedly turned on your heel, Apparating with a crack! back to Grimmauld Place.

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

“Sirius!” you huffed out, running into the kitchen. “Is Remus back yet?”

“No, not - ” Sirius paused when he saw you, with sharp corners jutting out from under your jumper. “Is that what they call a woman’s second puberty?”

“What?”

Sirius gestured rather crudely at his own chest, clearly indicating your breasts. “How could you not notice? When they’ve gone all square.”

You picked up a banana on the counter and chucked it at him. “Ugh! Will you ever grow up?”

Sirius easily caught the banana in the air, peeled it open, and began to munch on it. Leaning back in his chair, he mused, “Mm, bananas aren’t bad, are they? But just looking at it, I never want to eat one. Why is that, do you think?”

“Never mind that! Sirius, you didn’t answer my question. Is Remus - ?”

At that moment, you heard the front door open.

“That’s probably him,” Sirius remarked.

You bolted, booking it up the stairs two at a time. You dashed into your and Remus’s room and immediately dove under the covers. Ow, you groaned, as you felt the book pressing into your chest as you slid onto the mattress and under the blankets.

A minute later, you heard Remus come in and call out, “Lovely?”

Trying very hard to control your breathing, you called out (while still hiding under the covers), “Oh, Remus, you’re back! How was your meeting?”

“It was fine. Dumbledore wanted to confirm – Erm, Lovely, where in Merlin’s name are you?”

“Uh, here.” You carefully stuck a hand out from the blankets.

“Oh.” Remus walked over to the bed. “Let me guess, this has something to do with that strange book you bought today.”

“Yes, exactly.” Relief coursed into you as you thought, yes, that’s a perfect excuse! With your other hand, you pulled the book out from under your jumper. “It needs to be out of the light to be read properly. Funny book, innit? But that’s how it goes and - ”

Remus reached out and grasped your hand in his, finding the way your hand was stuck out quite cute. But then, he frowned slightly. “Lovely.”

“Yes?”

Remus debated whether or not to throw back the covers, for he wanted a proper look at you. However, he didn’t want to startle you, and he knew, anyways, that you had probably squirreled yourself away to hide something from him. With a sigh, Remus resigned himself to the fact that you had him wrapped around your pinky. He took off his cloak and then, instead of pushing the covers away to reveal you, he slid under the covers himself.

“Hello, Lovely,” he said softly.

“Oh, Remus, hello,” you replied, quite surprised at his joining you.  

Remus touched your cheek with the back of his fingers. “Your cheeks are all flushed, yet your skin is cold all over.” His tone became a bit firmer as he repeated, “Lovely.”

You gulped. “Yes?”

“How close did you get to being whisked away by the Moon Rabbit tonight?”

“Huh?”

“It came for you, didn’t it? This Rabbit of yours, it came bounding right up to you after the shift, as soon as it knew I was being kept by Dumbledore, and it winked at you and probably stamped its foot at you and told you that you had best follow it to the moon.  And you nearly went with it.”

“What?” You started to laugh at Remus’s incredulous talk. “Rem, did you stop by Aberforth’s tonight after your shift and have a drink or two?”

“Not at all. Now tell me the truth.”   

Still giggling a little, you shook your head. “Of course there wasn’t any Moon Rabbit. I’m only in the beginning stages of research, and you know how long it took me to track the Nine-Tailed Fox. I was out a little later than I’d planned because the book I bought – well, you see, it only reveals information about the Moon Rabbit when it’s exposed to moonlight. There were a few more pages than I thought, so it took a little longer than I expected.”

Remus gazed at you, taking in the brightness of your eyes and cheeks, and that charming smile on your lips. He mused aloud, “Well, it’s as I told you before, it’s not you chasing the creatures as much as it is them chasing you. The mythical creatures, they find you enchanting, I’m sure of it.”

“Oh, Remus, that’s a beautiful idea, but that’s certainly not true.”

“No?” Remus pondered this. “Not that it’s a mythical creature, but you even got my wolf Patronus to come out.”

Pushing the book away, you lay down on your side, propping yourself up sideways and resting your head in your head. “Speaking of, thank you for letting me see your corporeal Patronus. It's a really beautiful Patronus, you know.”

Remus’s eyes dropped down, and he stared at where the sheets indented under your elbow. “You don’t have to say that.”

“But it was, Remus, it really was.”

Remus didn’t say anything for a moment. Then, he murmured, “It’s quite cozy in here, isn’t it?”

You smiled, knowing he meant to deflect away from your comment about his Patronus.

Catching your smile, Remus sighed a little. But then, he slowly caressed your cheek. “You’re still a bit cold. You must have only gotten here seconds before me, hm?”

It was your turn to avert your eyes.

“Sirius told me that you dashed off quicker than a rabbit - ”

“That tattletale,” you muttered.

Remus smiled at your comment, as he finished, “And that was when I was sure the Moon Rabbit attempted to make off with you once again tonight. Because when does Sirius ever talk about rabbits?”

You paused. There was that one time, when I dragged him out to look at the moon with me, that he mentioned something about Mars and a rabbit. But, to be frank, I had no idea what he was talking about.

You turned your attention back to Remus. “No, it’s nothing like that," you reassured him again. "I wasn’t going off anywhere tonight. Here, look.” You pulled the book to you, flipped to page 67, and showed it to him. The glowing text that had appeared under the moonlight was beginning to fade, but as the two of you were under the covers, the faint darkness allowed the text to shine enough to be visible.

Remus’s eyes widened. “You’re saying this new text appeared when you exposed the pages to moonlight?”

“Yes.”

“How did you know to do that?”

“I didn’t know. It was a guess,” you said honestly. “See, in one of the books you got for me, it said that the nocturnal sphere operates in a completely different reality than other spheres. Time and space operate differently, which likely means that light and sound are perceived differently. For us, daylight reveals what is, whereas darkness obscures. I was simply wondering if the effects might be flipped for the nocturnal sphere. It would only make sense, wouldn’t it?”

“I suppose so, when you put it like that.” Remus touched the glowing text wonderingly.

“So, that’s all,” you said. “I have my starting point now, but there’s no running off for a long time yet.”

Remus gazed at you admiringly, and he could see, again, that mischievous bright sparkle appearing in your eyes.

You closed the book and pushed it away. “Besides, Moon Rabbit or not, I’m going to stay right here so I can hear my answer...”  

Remus was still admiring you when your next words – “...of whether you think of me as your wife or not” yanked his mind back into reality.

“Oh…”

“But there’s no rush, I promise,” you said, smiling at him. You reached out and touched Remus’s face gently, letting your finger trace his nose and jaw and cheeks. “And the whole time, I’ll be right here.”

“Is that so?” Remus murmured. I wonder if Lovely realizes what her patience does for me – that to me, it’s the most heart-breaking form of love. It makes me ache, to see Lovely intentionally craft some space in her soul for me. At the same time, it makes me feel whole. Why does it work like that, I wonder?

But there you were, nodding at him, as though it were the easiest thing in the world for you to say and do these things for Remus.

Oh, Lovely, I’m sorry that I make love a sad thing, but at least I can show you the tenderness that comes with that sadness.  Without thinking or feeling anything except a deep, aching adoration for you, Remus leaned in, and slowly, slowly, slowly, as if he were doing this for the very first time – he kissed you. His lips pressed against yours softly at first, so gently that you instinctively held still, tensing a little.

The two of you stayed like that for a long moment, with your lips pressed together just barely, and simply breathing together.

Remus whispered to you, “Why so still?”

“I’m waiting,” you murmured back.

“For…?”

“You.”

Remus’s eyes flashed. He brought his hand up, cupped your face, and this time, he kissed you fervently. Lovely, you can't even imagine how much love I feel for you. You're not only my wife to me, but love itself, in its purest form, and you break me open and heal me at the same time, in ways I didn't even know were possible. How can I possibly tell you this, though? In my humble state. Even if I'm not a werewolf anymore, there are so many things I should be for you, but I can't, at least not yet... But I love you. I love you. I love you.

"Ah..." Remus was kissing you so lovingly, that you naturally fell back against the bed. He followed you, keeping his hand on your face, while resting his other hand down on the mattress beside your head to hold himself up over you. He parted his lips a bit more and captured your sweet mouth in a deep, all-consuming kiss. You moaned wantingly, and you felt all of the tension in your body begin to release, as all you wanted to do now was accept him. Your hands fell open on either side of you, and your thighs and hips relaxed, while your head sank down a little into the soft mattress, as Remus chased yet another of those long, deep kisses with you. You felt his tongue swipe gently over yours, and you knew he was tasting you, savoring you – What you did not know, however, was how that was merely a preview of what was to come that night.

Remus did warn you a little, as he murmured to you, between kisses, “You know, Lovely, you taste so sweet." He kissed you again, and then, panting softly, and with his eyes glimmering in the lowlight, he whispered, "And I mean to taste you tonight.”

"D-Do you?" you breathed out.

"Yes," Remus growled, and he pressed his lips hotly against yours again.

Only a few minutes later, Remus had kissed you breathless. You thought that that was the end of his “tasting” you tonight. Needing to catch your breath, you dropped your head back softly with a raspy little “ah” leaving your lips. Remus took the opportunity to slowly shift himself down. Running his hands all down your sides to guide himself, he finally slipped down until he was hovering over your thighs. He paused briefly to push up the hem of your shirt and lay warm, loving kisses on your lower tummy, that made you squirm. But you had barely registered that when you felt Remus's broad hands pushing into your plush thighs to split them open.

"Lovely, can I undress you?" Remus asked you, while laying kisses all along the inside of your thigh.

You nodded eagerly.

The next second, your jeans and panties were yanked off before you could so much as blink, and then – Remus was pressing his warm mouth sweetly against you.

“Oh…” You let out a soft sigh and melted entirely, sinking into the bed.

Remus smiled when he saw and felt you reacting to his touch. He noticed how you breathed in, making your soft tummy sink in at your waist, and how your hips dipped slightly into the mattress. Your thighs also opened slightly, clearly making room for Remus.

“Lovely,” he whispered wantingly, “you don’t mind, do you, that I’ve a mind to taste you tonight? I swear I'll make you feel good, if only you'll be patient with me and let me have you.” He began to gently tongue your pussy all over, swiping his tongue between your pink folds and passing over your pussyhole.

"Mm!" You jolted softly.

"Relax, sweetheart, and I’ll take care of you,” Remus promised.  He ran his hands soothingly up and down your thighs before he wrapped his arms around your thighs, effectively anchoring you to him. Then, after taking a short, sharp inhale, he buried his head between your legs.

“Ah!” you gasped, as you felt his tongue delving more roughly against your clit – pushing and swirling and licking - tasting you, just as he had promised.

Remus huffed out, "Mm, such a sweet pussy," before he latched his mouth back onto you.

"Ah...!" Your feet kicked out for a second, but Remus's strong grasp on your thighs reeled you right back in.

In fact, it took a few minutes to notice (and by that time, Remus had his tongue fully inside of your sweet little cunt, tasting you thoroughly and deeply) but you came to realize that, when you started to squirm and tense all over, in contrast to how Remus usually was with you (shifting to match you and finding ways to soothe you through touch), tonight, the more you squirmed, the tighter his arms became around your thighs. Remus seemed to be set on holding you right in place as he got his fill of you. He truly meant to have you tonight, and that realization made your tummy flip and flutter with anticipation.

"So sweet, fuck," Remus groaned, as he pushed his tongue into your pussy repeatedly. He was being so greedy with you tonight, and you loved it.

Another jolt of tense, tight pleasure rang through your pussy, and when you instinctively tried to squeeze your thighs together, you found they wouldn’t even budge as Remus continued to hold your thighs apart easily, while his head moved up and down, up and down, tongue-fucking your pussy over and over again, drawing out your wetness for him to taste, relish, and savor.

You were already so wet for him. Who could help it? you thought, as your eyes blurred with soft tears and your breath hitched as those delicious, tight waves kept cresting in your pussy. 

Finally, reaching a shivering hand out towards him, you bleated out, “Rem, let me… Me too. I wanna – wanna taste you too.”

“Hm, no,” Remus replied pleasantly, before he kissed your pussy rather wetly and squeezed your thighs lovingly in his arms.

“What – What d’you mean ‘no?’” you panted out. "You've been - been having your - nngh - way with m-me all this t-time. When's it gonna - ah - be m-my turn?"

Remus finally paused. He lifted his head to look at you, lips glistening all over, his cheeks flushed a bright pink, and his stray curl plastered to his forehead. With a soft but nonetheless quite cheeky smirk playing at his lips, he reminded you, “Well, Lovely, I still have to fulfill my promise to you.”

“Promise?”

“To pay you back after that evening you wouldn’t let me have you. That evening you nearly killed me by teasing me with that soft, wonderful little mouth of yours.”

“Oh,” you replied quickly, “but I wasn’t teasing you.  I was only doing my best to - ”

“You were teasing me,” Remus said sternly.  “You may think that you weren’t, but you were.  It’s high time you learned that.”

“I only wanted you to feel good,” you huffed out.

“I know that,” Remus replied, “and that’s quite sweet of you, except for the fact that you wouldn’t let me have so much as a kiss from you the entire time, even though you made me absolutely desperate for you.”

“Because then you’d use the kiss to turn the attention on me,” you returned. “You’re too shy about this stuff. When I want to be on my knees for you, when I want to stay on my knees for you all night, if only it would please you and make you feel good - ”

Remus’s jaw tightened and he cut you off, in a raspy, low voice, “Now, see, this is the kind-of rubbish you mustn’t say to me, Lovely - ”

“But it’s true." Staring down at Remus, with your face shining lightly with sweat and your eyes soft and blurry and alight with tears, you said fervently, “I wanna – I wanna worship you, Rem, and you won’t let me.”

Remus’s eyes narrowed. He came back up for a moment, putting one hand down on the mattress by your head. With his other hand, he took your face in his hand and squeezed, so that his fingers pressed into both of your cheeks. A deep silver light flicker hungrily in his eyes as he asked you lowly, “Didn’t we discuss this already? How you mustn't beg for me?”

Suddenly a little nervous, you blurted out, “No...? Why not? Have I – Have I done something bad?”

Remus stared at you for a moment longer. But then, he ducked his head down and he nibbled softly on your ear. “No, you haven’t done anything bad. But whether you intend it or not, you make me quite wanting of you, and we can’t have that, can we now?”

“Sure we can - ” You stopped when you felt Remus bite down a bit harder on your ear. 

“No, we can’t,” he insisted.

“But – Oh…” Your eyes widened as you felt Remus nudge his head down a little, and then, he bit your neck hard.  As his teeth sank into your skin, you gasped a little. 

Remus sucked hard on your neck, and then he let out a muffled moan. “So sweet, my girl. So sweet all over.” He moaned again as he moved his hand down from your face to the hem of your shirt, which he slid his hand under. Greedily pushing down your bra, he began to massage your breast in his hand, letting his fingers sink into your softness while rubbing his thumb against your nipple. "All sweet and soft, so what business do you have begging for me, hm? No, we can't have that. All you have to do is lay back and let me enjoy you, my love. It doesn't make sense otherwise."

"It - It does - " you protested, though a bit dizzily.

"Shush, Lovely," Remus scolded you. He gently pulled your bra back up over your breasts and then slid his hand back down between your thighs.  

“Ah,” you breathed out, as you felt his fingers slide over you and then pat right over your pussyhole.  

“Sweet all over, but especially here.” Remus rubbed his fingers lightly against your pussyhole, teasing you a little.

Your breath hitched at once.

“Yes,” Remus murmured. “Right…here.” He slowly pushed his index finger inside your tight hole.

“Nngh, R-Remus...” Your tummy and thighs tensed at once. "Ah..."

“Tight,” Remus murmured, feeling your pussy squeeze even around just his finger.  “So tight.”

You let out a longer, more labored moan as you felt his finger push deeper, encouraging your walls to open. Your head dropped back on the bed, as you let Remus work his finger inside of you, slowly coaxing you open.

Remus bit down on his lower lip, feeling how hot and plush you were inside.  “Mm… How do you ever take me in? When you’re squirming from just one finger.” Without pausing, he murmured, “Can you take another one for me? Be a good girl, hm?” And then, he was pushing two fingers into you, taking his time to let his fingers sink in knuckle-deep into your tight, hot cunt.

“Mm!” you moaned out.

“Yes,” Remus breathed back to you, in quite a sweet, low voice. “Good girl, taking it so well for me.”

“Ah, Remus…!” you panted.

Remus began to slowly pump his fingers in and out, and you shivered as you huffed out, "Ah, ah, ah!"

As it was, Remus soon found out how exactly you were able to take him despite having such a tight pussy, because you were fast getting quite wet for him. And who could blame you, when you were being touched so lovingly by the man you adored, with his gentle, beautiful hands that you loved so much, while he was murmuring so lowly right into your ear, praising you with, "Good girl, good girl, good girl..."

However, you reminded yourself that before you became lost completely in being with Remus, you had a mission to fulfill.

Remus paused, when he felt your hands suddenly grip at his shirt.

“O-Off,” you breathed out, and there was a rather steely glint in your eye, in contrast to how soft the rest of you had become, what with your sweet, open mouth panting softly, breasts and tummy heaving, thighs splayed open, and increasingly wet and plush in your pussy. 

Remus chuckled, knowing what you meant – because last time, he’d managed to distract you and fuck you to his heart’s content before you’d even managed to get his shirt off.  “Fine,” he conceded. “I s’pse I can let you have that win tonight. Especially because that’s all you’ll be winning tonight.”

You blinked, puzzled by his last sentence. But before you could ask him what he meant by that, Remus had sat up, and in one fluid motion, taken off his shirt. And then, you had to admit – you were quite distracted, even taken aback.  Because even though you’d never said anything about it to Remus, you were slowly noticing that Remus’s build was changing – very gradually, but definitively. It was hard to tell because Remus still wore loose-fitting clothes, but seeing him with his shirt off, you noticed that his stature, overall, was notably broader than before.  You supposed now that Remus wasn’t having to literally regrow a broken body every month, his body was finally able to expend that energy into growing.  Your eyes fell from his chest to his abs, where there was a line running down the middle that you swore wasn’t there before, and then to his hips, where you saw the band of his pants straining a little against his lower abs and hip muscles.

That’s certainly new, you thought, quite dazed. You were, of course, relieved and thrilled that Remus’s health was much better, and you realized that had Remus never been bitten in the first place, he would likely have grown to be this big, if not bigger, since earlier.  However, at the same time, it was a change from the Remus you’d always known, who’d swayed like a reed in the wind, and limped towards you until he curled up around you and then, when he couldn’t hold himself up anymore, collapsed onto you entirely in an all-consuming hug. 

His frailty always signified his gentleness to me, I think, you realized. It never occurred to me that Remus could be otherwise. But even his Patronus was quite a sizeable wolf, you remembered. So perhaps this was what Remus was always meant to be. Gentle, yes, but not frail. How wonderful, but how strange, too.

“Lovely?” Remus called softly. He started to lean in towards you, wanting to gaze into your eyes to read you and make sure you were all right, but you put your hand out and touched his chest hesitantly and nervously, stopping him.

“One moment,” you said quietly. "Just give me a second."

“Is something wrong?” Remus asked you, and his voice was extremely gentle. His gaze flickered all over your face, as he still tried to read you.

You shook your head at him.  Then, you spread your fingers out and pressed your palm over his chest. I remember I once drew a heart around his heart to keep it safe. That was when he was all bandaged up and limping all over school, this fragile young man with his unexplained scars and tired eyes. He’s changed so much since then. And yet… You let your fingers trace an old scar, one that had been there since your school days. He’s still my sweet Remus. You suddenly wrapped your arms around Remus’s neck and, lifting yourself up a little from the bed, you kissed him fervently.

“Lovel – Mmpfh!” Remus let out a breath of surprise, when you all but attacked him with a kiss.  He kissed you back, but at the same time, he wrapped an arm around your waist and gently guided you back down onto the bed, as he was a bit nervous that he might fall on top of you too hard.

A minute went by, in which the two of you traded hot, heavy kisses, and ran your hands all over each other.  When you finally fell back onto the bed, lips quite pink and a little swollen, Remus wondered aloud, a bit breathlessly, “What was that about?”

That stray curl had flopped out onto Remus’s forehead again. Smiling a little, especially as you recalled that his Patronus wolf seemed to have a similar tuff of unruly fur in the same place on his forehead, you reached up and tucked it back for him. As you did, you joked, “You see what it does to me to see you with your shirt off? And you’re such a tease and always insist on keeping it on, tsk.”

Remus laughed at this. He rested his forehead against yours for a moment as he told you, “Oh, Lovely, you’re so strange.”

“I’m not,” you protested. “You’re so handsome, Remus.”

Blushing, Remus lifted his head and looked away from you.

You continued on stolidly, even sitting up a little as you pressed your point. “Yet you never let me see you, never let me look at you. I want you to realize that that’s quite mean of you - ”

“Shush, you’re being Ms. Foolish again.” Remus hugged you then, tucking you back under him.

You knew that Remus was doing this partially to hide his face from you. “Well, Mr. Wicked - ”

“Shush,” Remus repeated. “Let the nonsense clear out of your mind first, Ms. Foolish, and then I’ll let you come back to the world of the living.”

“It’s not nonsense!” you protested, but Remus kept you and your protests hushed under him.  

As your disgruntled noises rang out from under him, Remus chuckled and affectionately nuzzled the top of your head with his chin. You could feel a bit of the stubble on his chin, which was also rather new. Since Remus had slowly started to accept the fact that he was no longer a werewolf, he became less self-conscious of appearing unkempt.  He used to be so afraid of giving any indication of ‘wolfishness’ that he went to great pains to keep himself as fresh-shaven and professionally put-together as possible (or, at least, as much as his energy and money would allow). Now, he was more relaxed about letting his hair or beard grow out a little, and he shrugged off when a shirt had a button missing or a small rip. (He did, however, make sure to keep up with the patches on your clothing, though, as you still came over to him every month or so with another piece of your clothing that you swore would look far better with one of his patches on it.)

Finally, Remus loosened his hug on you and, glancing down at you, he asked in a soft tone, “All better? Are you back to being my reasonable, honest Lovely again?” 

“It’s not unreasonable or dishonest to say that you’re handsome, Remus,” you pushed back, staying firm to your line. “When will you accept it and stop running away from it, damn it?”

“Ah, still dazed by the nonsense illness, I see,” Remus said dismissively. “Fine, I’ll have to find another way to shake you out of it.”

Ignoring your continuing protests (“Remus, just admit that you’re handsome, it won’t kill you!”), Remus gently pinned your hands down on the mattress and then kissed his way down your body once more. You were strangely comforted by the fact that the way he kissed and touched you was the same as ever, as he comfortingly ran his hands all over you in easy, warm touches, except when he paused to pinch your nipples or tummy in a way that made you squirm happily; kissing and licking you all over to make you melt for him entirely; and humming a little between kisses as he glowed with satisfaction in being able to be with you this way and make you feel good – in short, Remus continued to make love to you in a way that made you feel entirely safe with him, despite how intensely vulnerable it could be to be so intimate with someone this way.

Remus spread his hands over your hips and, savoring the feeling of your curves in his hands, he firmly pinned you down against the edge of the bed. He paused for a moment to look down at your pussy, all pink and already a bit flushed from taking his fingers before, and a low, thrumming want began to run through him. Shit, Lovely’s so pretty. And when she’s all laid out like this for me – Mm, fuck. She doesn’t know, does she? How wanting I get for her. That’s why she doesn’t know that she made a mistake when she pulled that trick on me, of putting her sweet little mouth on me and taking me over and over again, without letting me repay the favor. But I will repay her tonight, and perhaps she’ll finally realize that she underestimates me in one thing – how I will always want her more than she can imagine.

You still didn’t quite realize what Remus had in mind for that night – until that moment, because that was when he suddenly slid to his knees onto the floor, and then, he slipped his hands under your thighs and pushed them up rather firmly.

“Remus?” you breathed out, and you pushed yourself up onto your elbows to look down at him. It was seeing Remus's handsome face positioned between your legs like that, with his hands lifting your thighs, and that intense glint of hunger flash through his normally quite light hazel eyes that made you gulp a little and begin to realize what exactly Remus might have meant when he’d told you that he planned to fulfill his promise to you and that he could afford to let you take his shirt off because that was all you’d get from him tonight.

“Re - ” you began hurriedly, but it was too late. 

“Ah!” You cut off sharply, with a loud gasp, as Remus chose that moment to lean forward and press his mouth against your pussy sweetly, but hard. 

“Mmpfh…” Remus let out a satisfied, low groan. You felt his nose nudge up against your clit for a moment as Remus latched his mouth right over your pussy and sucked hard.

“Oh, fuck,” you moaned out in a tiny voice.

But Remus was only beginning his enjoying you tonight. Because a second later, he reached over with his hand to press his thumb meanly against your clit, pushing against it and rubbing tight, little circles there.

“Nnghhh, ah, ah, ahh!” Raspy, aching moans escaped you as you spasmed all over. Your hands shot out and gripped the sheets hard, giving you something to hold onto while you desperately shifted your hips all over – but Remus wasn’t going to let you go until you’d cum all over his face tonight.

With low, pleased grunts and groans tumbling steadily from his lips, Remus kept his mouth right on your pussy, sending you into an irresistible, heavenly spiral.

“R-Remus!” you bleated out desperately. “I don’t – I can’t - !” Your tummy rippled, and your hips bucked on the bed – and still Remus kept himself tight to you. “I – I – ahhhh!”

“Yes,” Remus growled heavily against your pussy. “Cum for me, my love. Let me taste you.”

You arched your back and your toes curled tightly. A ragged, desperate gasp exploded from your lips, as that tight coil in your tummy snapped – “Ahhh!”

Remus groaned heavily, as he felt a strong wave of satisfaction thrum in his chest, while his cock throbbed heavily in his pants. He fully appreciated the sight of you coming undone for him so beautifully, with your tummy and thighs going entirely taut, while your strong, gorgeous hips pushed up into the air, and your plush little ass shivered, and your pretty face blushed all over and began to shine a little with sweat as the pleasure overtook you. For a moment, Remus imagined pushing his thick, throbbing cock right into your sweet, open, panting little mouth, and he groaned again – but then, he stopped himself from going any further, even in his own imagination. Tonight was all about you, and Remus was intent on keeping it that way.

As the two of you were still somewhat under the covers, you found yourself gasping for air. You managed to squirm out of Remus’s grasp for just a moment, and you tried to poke your head out of the covers. But in doing so, you shifted away from Remus and towards the edge of the bed.

Remus inquired, “Excuse me, where do you think you’re going?”

“Just – Just for a breath!” You had barely poked your nose out from the covers when -

“Too soon. I haven’t even begun with you. Come back here, Lovely.”

The next second, you were yanked right back under the covers. “Re – ah!” Your legs kicked out as this time, Remus kissed your pussy from behind, placing his warm, large hands on your soft, plush ass and spreading you open for him so that he could continue enjoying you, lavishing your pussy with his tongue once again.

“Oh my God!” you cried out, gripping hard at the sheets and staring desperately in front of you, where you could see the edge of the blanket covering you and Remus fluttering over the edge of the bed.

Air… Fresh air… Nngh, ah, fuck, Remus’s t-tongue, s-so good, mmm… Ah…! With your heart thundering in your chest and huffing out hard pants, you started to try to make a second attempt to poke your head out from under the covers.

But just then, Remus moaned, with his mouth still pressed hard against your pussy, “C’mon, Lovely, let me taste you again. I know you can do it for me, can’t you? Make yourself all wet for me again, like a good girl, please.”

You let out a defeated sob, and, giving up on getting out from under the blanket, you instead buried your face against the mattress, as you resorted to letting Remus simply have you however he wanted. You couldn’t protest, no, not when Remus was asking you so sweetly, in that gentle voice of his that made you feel all sorts of things with his voice alone, and not when it felt so fucking good to let him have you this way, to be so thoroughly wanted and enjoyed and tasted.

Remus ate you out so hungrily, so thoroughly, staying with you despite every little involuntary jerk and squirm of your hips and thighs that shivered through you as you were completely overwhelmed by the unending pleasure of having Remus’s mouth and hands all over your pussy, ass, and thighs – and then, even your tummy, for Remus flipped you over and, pressing his hands down softly on your lower tummy to anchor you against the bed, he positioned himself again to continue eating your pussy.

“Again?” you huffed out in disbelief.

“Yes, and what’s wrong with that?” Remus murmured, and as he spoke, you felt his breath pass sweetly over your wet, throbbing pussy.

“But Rem, you’ll make me all wet again, and I've already - already cummed too much,” you whispered, starting to feel quite embarrassed about the mess you were making today. Reaching down, you made to gently push Remus’s face away, but he only stopped to kiss your fingers.

“And so…?” Remus said softly, with his mouth still at your pussy. “You say that as if it’s a problem, Lovely, but I don’t see the issue.”

You stared at him, mesmerized.  He really is so handsome. He has such a gentle face, even though he almost always has a slight frown on, and his eyes are so beautiful, but his gaze is a tad intense and somewhat lonely or melancholy, rather.

“Speechless? Well, that’s fine,” Remus murmured gently. “I’m the one who should have his mouth busy anyway, to taste this little pussy of yours.” With that, he disappeared from sight once more, bowing his head so he could continue to lap, lick, kiss, and tongue your sweet pussy all over, tasting you to his heart’s content.

“Nngh, mm, hnngh, ah…!” Little moans spilled from your lips every time you felt his tongue delve into your pussyhole or his lips press against your sensitive clit.

“Mm, yes, good girl,” Remus praised you. “But we can get you a bit wetter than that, can’t we?”

You let out a needy moan at his words, and your pussy pulsed heavily. He’s asking for more? Uhn, fuck, if he’s not careful, he’s going to spend all night with me cumming on his face… Oh Godric,  but it’s like he wants that, I swear he wants that from me tonight… Nngh, ah, fuck! Feels so good, oh Merlin!

As Remus felt you getting close again, his brow furrowed in concentration, and he began to work his jaw up and down as he fervently ran his tongue up and down your clit over and over again, lavishing your pussy with deep, hungry licks.

Ah, Remus, why…? He seems obsessed with tasting me tonight, you thought, your mind spinning off in the warm, humming ether of pleasure as your pussy began to tense once more.

Feeling you tighten, Remus encouraged you, murmuring lowly, “That’s it. C’mon, Lovely, more. Give me more.”

“R-Remus, are you s-sure?” you breathed out, your voice totally spent. “It’s not t-too – nngh  - much?”

“Don’t doubt me, my love,” Remus replied, his voice muffled by your pussy and thighs. “And don’t deny me, either. I know how wet this pussy can get. Give it to me, sweetheart. Let me fucking taste you.”

“I don’t – It’s s-so much,” you bleated. Your hands messily patted down your own body, until you found Remus’s hands on your tummy. He opened his hands, so that you could lace your fingers with his. You squeezed his hands tightly in yours. “If it’s too much – mm – t-tell me q-quickly, ‘cause o-otherwise I'm going to - I’m – I’m – ah, ah, ahhhh!”

“That's it. Cum,” Remus growled at you. “Right on my face. I want to taste you. Please, Lovely, please.”

“Nngh – ahh, f-fuck! Ah, Remus!” With a loud sob, and gripping onto his fingers tightly, your hips jerked back and forth messily for one wild, tense moment and then – With a harsh, sharp breath splitting the air, cum suddenly gushed out of your pussy. "Ahhhh...!"

“Oh Godric, yes,” Remus groaned, as he pushed his mouth right back onto you and sucked hard, taking all of your sweet, honeyed cum into his mouth. Fuck, yes, this is what I dreamt of, he thought to himself. He wrapped both of his arms around your hips and lifted you slightly so that he could kiss your pussy even more and press his mouth to you as you came for him.

Wet, sucking sounds rang out as Remus worked himself to make sure he was getting every last drop of you into his mouth. You squirmed, a bit embarrassed by how much Remus was having you, but you were too breathless to say anything aloud.

And Remus was pushing again, moaning hotly against your pussy, "More, Lovely, more...!"

In a trembling voice, you started to reply, "R-Remus, I can't - !"

But then Remus (while keeping one arm secured tightly around your hips) brought his hand to your pussy and roughly thrust two fingers into you, all while keeping his mouth on you.

You gasped, and your eyes rolled back in your head. Your whole body started to hum with an intense, warm, golden energy, which coursed through you so definitively that you simply had to let it pass through you without resisting. Your thighs shook and your hips thrust wildly against Remus’s mouth for a moment, as a surge of hot, incredible pleasure overcame you.

Remus thrust his fingers hard into your wet, tight cunt, and - “O-Oh my God!” you burst out, sobbing. “Ahhh…!” You literally blanked out for a second, as pure ecstasy took over your body and mind.

Remus let out a hard growl of satisfaction. Yes, Lovely, give it all to me. Fuck, yes, my good girl. Listening to me so well, cumming so many times for me, letting me taste you so, oh Godric... Such a sweetheart, such a perfect sweetheart...

Remus lifted his head. He, too, was gasping, as he'd worked hard to stay with you and lap up every drop of your sweet, honeyed cum every time you came. Using his grasp around your hips, he lowered you back down onto the bed.

“Hah…” you breathed out. “Ah… Hah…” You threw your arm over your face as you panted heavily. Your head was ringing and your chest felt like it was about to burst.

Lying down beside you, Remus pulled you into his arms. You were still shaking and shuddering and bleating out soft little moans, as you slowly came back down to reality.

“Sh, you’re all right, my love. You’re all right with me.” Remus held you tenderly. As you nestled into him, your jumper and shirt fell down your shoulder a little, and Remus bent his head to kiss your bare shoulder. “You did so well for me, sweetheart.”

“R-Remus,” you panted out, and when you said his name, your thighs involuntarily shuddered.

“You’re such a sweet, soft little thing,” Remus murmured, almost regretfully. "And all over. Your pussy's the sweetest, but everywhere, every part of you, I want to have you, Lovely, if you'll let me." He still had his lips pressed to your shoulder and now, after that comment, he naturally, almost curiously, pressed his tongue against your sweet skin to taste you there, too.  You whined softly and you pressed your face into his chest when you felt his mouth on your shoulder, for you were still dizzy with the heat of your intense climax.

Remus whispered, “I want to taste you… here… too.” You felt Remus slip his hands under your jumper and shirt and push them both up, and then he softly yanked down your bra again and began to fondle your breasts, pinching lightly at your nipples. “Can I do that?"

You moaned pitifully into his chest because while you did want it, to feel his mouth on you there – you wanted it very much -  you were so overstimulated, and you could feel how you were completely drenched between your legs, including your inner thighs, and your legs felt almost like they were buzzing a little, because of how tense you’d been from cumming so many times tonight or because Remus had had his arms wrapped tightly around your thighs for so long, you weren’t sure…

“I – I – Yes, but - ” you breathed out.

Remus, seeing that you were still completely lost in a daze, paused. He carefully pulled your shirt and jumper back down over you, and then he hugged you softly to him.  “Never mind,” he murmured. “We’ll leave that for another day, hm?”

You nestled in tighter to Remus.

Remus held you softly, tucking you in comfortingly against him. “But you see, Lovely, if you’re not careful, how much I desire you, long to devour you… I do my best to hold back, but when it comes to you, there is no end to how much I want you, love you. I need you to know that. So, when you tell me you’ll wait for me and ask me to show my heart to you, you do it so kindly and patiently, but I wonder if you underestimate what you’re truly asking about. Because...” He paused and stopped himself from saying anything more, for he was dangerously close to spilling out his entire heart before you and he wasn’t quite ready for that yet. We’ll leave it at that, he decided. It wouldn’t be fair to Lovely to push my feelings onto her when she’s so vulnerable and soft. He held onto you tighter. The only important thing is that we're together, and that she'd happy and safe with me. Please, Merlin, no matter what else happens in this life of mine, let me keep her happy and safe. Let me love her fully, as she deserves. That's all I ask.

“Remus,” you managed to breath out.

“Yes, my love, I’m right here.”

True to his words, you could feel that Remus was right there for you – and with his larger stature, you could feel him surrounding you more than ever.  His chest was so sturdy, his shoulders so broad, and his arms so strong now. But when you opened your eyes, the first thing you saw were - “Your scars,” you breathed out, panting slightly. “They’re… fading…” You traced some of the ones you were most familiar with gently with your fingertips. You noticed, “Some of them are nearly gone…” In fact, it was only because you knew so well where to look for, because you’d spent so many mornings tending to him and so many nights silently wondering about them, that you could make out the oldest of the faint silver marks on his skin.

“There’ll always be there, some of them,” Remus murmured.

“I know,” you responded. Then, sliding your hands up into his hair, you kissed him lovingly. As you drew away, you remarked, “And mine, too.”

Remus tenderly put his hand over the knotted, rough scar over your heart. “I know,” he repeated back to you, and his voice was utterly loving.

You smiled at him, as his gentle words and touch took away your fears and regrets for the moment. You checked with him then, "Do you feel you've gotten your payback tonight? Tasting me like that? Goodness, Remus, that was quite - quite something."

Remus smirked at you as he replied casually, "I s'pse so."

You lifted your eyebrow at him. "Tsk, you usually act like such a gentleman, so what did you mean by having me like that tonight? Driving me absolutely crazy by making me cum so many times? It's embarrassing, y'know."

Remus's smirk deepened. He teased you back, "You're cute when you cum, though. Your face gets so pink, Lovely, it's quite funny."

"Remus!" you chided him. "That doesn't help me feel less embarrassed!"

"Well," Remus said humbly, "it's very endearing."

You finally laughed, and Remus laughed with you.

The two of you lay there, then, entirely exhausted by your own happiness. 

Softly, the glowing light of a thin crescent moon crept in through the window.  Resting peacefully with your head on Remus’s chest and with his arms wrapped around you, you blinked tiredly at the moonlight dancing across the end of the blankets. 

“Remus,” you mumbled out, staring blearily at the moonlight.

“Yes, my love?”

“Your Patronus really was so beautiful. I’m glad you let me see it."

"It wasn't anything, Lovely," Remus said quietly. "Of course I let you see my Patronus."

"Well, but I’ve always wondered about it, you know," you replied. "After all, you were the one who taught me how to conjure a Patronus, and we saw mine for the first time together, but I never saw yours. And even when you taught Harry, you had me cast a corporeal Patronus, yet you never cast one yourself. It made me so curious. You also said back then that your happiest memory was being told you could go to Hogwarts. I didn’t understand how that could be your happiest memory, why that wasn’t simply a given. But I do now. How painful it must have been for you, to always have to wonder whether your being a werewolf somehow overshadowed your being a wizard. You must have been so scared. But your Patronus wolf has such a stable, kind energy… When your Patronus faded away after it gave me its message, I wanted to see it again right away. I missed it, the energy it had, the energy you have, I wanted it with me always. And that’s how I’ve always felt about you, Rem."

Remus let out a soft breath. It took a long time for him to reply to you. In fact, you were half asleep when you heard Remus murmur, in a voice that mixed hope and regret together, “Lovely, you said you were waiting for me.”

You nodded tiredly, with your eyes closed.

Remus said softly, “You might have just meant the kiss, but… For other – other things, too, wait a little longer for me. Please. Just a little.”

The last thing you did before you fell asleep was to grasp Remus’s hand tightly in yours and squeeze it, promising that you would wait for him however long he needed, for whatever it was that he wanted to be with you.

The last game of the season, Slytherin versus Gryffindor, was coming up.  In the weeks leading up to the match, Oliver was relentlessly targeted by the Slytherins.  They set up booby traps for him in the Great Hall and in the hallways.  Most were aimed at trying to trip Oliver, so that he would hopefully sustain a minor injury to put him out of the game.  Other Slytherins were less subtle and simply ambushed him by throwing all manner of items at his head. 

Strangely enough, in contrast to his general clumsiness, Oliver hardly seemed to notice any of this – often instinctively ducking or stepping over the booby traps without even breaking his stride or stream of talk about Quidditch strategies to employ against the Slytherins.  True - young, overeager Slytherins were not the most accurate of throwers.  Once, a Slytherin second year threw a boiled egg at Oliver’s head, only he missed and clocked Percy Weasley in the back instead.  Percy marched over and gave the second year a stern talking-to that nearly bored him to death.  Oliver, who had his head buried in his playbook, scrawling all sorts of nearly impossible formations for his Beaters and Chasers onto the parchment, was completely oblivious to the entire thing. 

Still, there was the rare instance where the perpetrator actually managed to hit Oliver.  Once, a pair of panties came out of nowhere and flew onto Oliver’s head, and the Weasley twins were convinced that some Gryffindor girl mad for Oliver had been unable to help herself and flung her knickers at him.  You’d shrugged at this and said, “Don’t look at me.  I’m standing right here.” 

You nearly suggested to Oliver to report some of these incidents to McGonagall, but then, you realized that Oliver wouldn’t want to do that, for he was far too lost in plotting against the Slytherins himself.  One evening, Oliver was caught using binoculars to watch the Slytherins practice.  When Madam Hooch discovered him, she was outraged, as this was only the fiftieth time she’d caught him doing this, and she promptly assigned him a week’s worth of detentions.  Oliver accepted the detentions readily, but he refused to give the binoculars up until Hagrid came out and gently wrestled them away from him. That evening, you went and found Oliver in Hagrid’s pumpkin patch, sitting moodily on an oversized pumpkin with Fang snoring at his feet. 

The next morning, you caught Oliver trying to bribe a Gryffindor first year – the same first year you thought he’d given money to a few weeks ago, at breakfast - into going out and spying on the Slytherins’ practice for him.  “If you care at all about Quidditch, like you said, you’ll help us out, Benny,” Oliver said fervently.  “I know you’ve got it in you, kid!” 

The first year looked at Oliver with big eyes, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.  “Y-Yeah,” he stuttered out bravely, all excited. “I can do this!”

Oliver nodded approvingly and began to put his hand out to seal the deal – You interrupted, saying, “Next time, okay?  Please excuse us.”  With a sigh, you tugged Oliver away, taking the Sickles out of his hand and putting them back into his own pocket.

“But why?” Oliver’s brow furrowed as he stared at you uncomprehendingly.  “I’m being fiscally responsible, if that’s what you’re worried about.  I can spare a few Sickles and still have enough to take you out on plenty of dates.”

“Oliver,” you said patiently, “Madam Hooch told you off for this just last night.”

“Yes,” he replied at once, “which is why I am not going out with my binoculars tonight.  I’m following her orders.”

You shot Oliver a dubious look.

“I am!” he said defensively.  “I mean, what more could she possibly want from me?  For me to roll over and play dead while the Slytherins run us over with their broomsticks and get away with another easy win?  I keep telling you, Hooch is biased!  She fancies Snape, no doubt about it!  That’s the only reason that explains how nonsensically she’s acting.”  He suddenly looked back over at the Gryffindor table, all ready to start scouting for a new spy. 

You quickly linked your arm with Oliver’s and pulled him away from the Gryffindor table, which you feared was full of first years and second years, all too eager to be bribed and wanting to prove themselves as helpful House members.

As you led Oliver away, you heard him growl to himself, “But no matter how much Hooch might thirst over Snape, we’ve got to do whatever it takes to beat them.  And I don’t simply want to win by a few points.  No way, we’ve got to destroy them, grind them to an ugly, green pulp, make them cry for their mummies - ” He stopped suddenly, as he saw the way you were staring at him.  “What?”

You said, “You know that saying that exercise keeps you sound, both physically and mentally?” 

Oliver nodded.

You said dryly, “Yeah, I don’t believe that anymore.”

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

Two nights before the game, you and Oliver were sitting side-by-side on the couch in the common room.  Oliver had been muttering to himself all evening.  At the present moment, he mused, “The Weasleys brought up the Twisting Spell today, and I think they’re onto something.  I reckon if we find the right variation, we’ll be able to twist the Slytherins’ underpants under their uniforms.  Said twisting wouldn’t be visible to Madam Hooch, but the Slytherins would definitely feel it – well, the blokes, anyways.  In fact, if we time it right, we could probably sabotage Flint from ever being able to ride a broomstick again.”  He looked over at you.  “Torsus or Torqus?  Probably Torsus, right?”

“Oliver,” you said, glancing up from your Transfiguration textbook.  

“Hm?”

“I’m curious.  When you say this stuff to me, who do think I am?”

“Um…” Oliver looked over at you, and his stern, focused look softened into a pleading look, one that was asking you not to misunderstand him, one that would absolutely break your resolve in a second if you didn’t look away –

You hastily looked back down at your textbook.

Oliver leaned into you and he buried his forehead against your shoulder as he murmured, “I thought you said you were on my team now.”

“I – I am,” you said, trying not to show how flustered you were.  You refused to look over at him or turn towards him as you told him, “But that doesn’t mean you should hex the Slytherins’ testicles off to win the game.”

“No, of course not,” Oliver said, and he lifted his head to growl, “we’ll destroy them from the pure difference in skill.  There’s no doubt about that.  No one has trained longer, harder, or more intensely than we have.” He balled his hand into a fist and punched the air three times in emphasis as he spoke aloud the words, “longer, harder, or more intensely.”

“Exactly,” you replied. “So there’s no need to resort to secret knicker-twisting.”

There was a moment of silence.  Then, Oliver fell back against you again as he said quietly, “But it wouldn’t hurt to have a back-up plan now, would it?  As Captain, I rather think that’s my responsibility.And all things considered, knicker-twisting lands rather reasonably on the spectrum between ‘effective’ and ’tame.’ I mean, it’s not the mortal injury I would prefer, but - ”

You groaned and fell forward, face-planting into your Transfiguration book.  

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

Transfiguration was your last class the next day.  You packed up your things and began to leave the classroom with Charlotte and Alex, when Professor McGonagall called you over to her table.

Charlotte and Alex shot you a questioning look.  You merely shrugged at them, as you didn’t know why McGonagall wanted to speak with you.  As you walked up to McGonagall’s desk, however, you saw another student holding a large envelope marked for owl post to the Ministry of Magic, and you remembered that today was the deadline for a handful of Ministry jobs that students usually went for – jobs related to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. 

“Yes, Professor?” you said glumly.

“Well, how are you feeling?  I assume you’ve recovered from the dementor attack?”

“Oh.”  Surprised, you lifted your head and replied, “Yes, I feel completely fine.”

“Very good.”  McGonagall looked down at you, through the glasses perched at the end of her nose.  “As it were, Professor Lupin has kindly offered to teach you and Mr. Potter the basics of the Patronus Charm.”

“Isn’t that the spell you used to defend me?  It conjures a projection that acts as a shield against dementors, right?” you asked, recalling what McGonagall had told you as she guided you up to the hospital wing.

“Precisely.  Now, I must warn you, the Patronus Charm is a tricky charm to master.  Even fully-able wizards and witches are sometimes unable to conjure a Patronus.  But in light of recent events, if you would like, Professor Lupin is open to giving you the opportunity to try to learn the charm.”

You hesitated.  I want to, but…

“What is it?” McGonagall asked, seeing your expression.

“I’ve never been particularly good at Defense Against the Dark Arts,” you admitted, a bit shamefully.

“All the more reason to learn it,” McGonagall said calmly.  “Then, expect Professor Lupin to reach out to you after the holidays.”  She sat down at her desk and began to pull out her lecture notes for the next class. 

“Okay,” you said softly.  You started to turn away, when you abruptly asked, “Professor, my friend and I were wondering – if one were to perform a spell – er – one layer below the surface, let’s say – would the spell end is a ‘-sus’ or ‘-qus’ suffix?”

“It depends on the composition of the layers,” McGonagall replied smartly, as she flipped through her lecture notes.  “Usually, ‘qus’ is used in instances where the intended target is animate and ‘-sus’ where the intended target is inanimate.”

You thought about this.  “So, if you were to combine the Twisting Charm with a layer variation, it would be ‘Torsus,’ then?”

“Yes, if the intended effect is to - ” McGonagall suddenly looked up at you.  “Why are you asking me this?”

“Oh, it was simply a hypothetical for – for Charms – erm – Charms homework.”

“Was it, now?”

You said hastily, “Perhaps I should get to my next class.”

“Yes,” McGonagall replied, giving you a stern look – this time over her spectacles, “perhaps you should.” 

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

It was the night before the big game.  You were sitting on your dormitory room floor, stitching together a large Gryffindor banner made up of several smaller banners.  Corina, Charlotte, and Alexander had all come over, too, to help you.  Although, Corina was the only one actually helping you with the stitching.  Charlotte was lying on your bed, snacking on Chocolate Frogs, while Alexander was penning a letter to his parents. 

“I’m glad I can come out and support Gryffindor tomorrow,” Corina said.  “At the last Hufflepuff versus Gryffindor game, when we ran into Oliver, I thought he was going to murder me on the spot for wearing Hufflepuff colors.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” you said, but you couldn’t help but grin as you recalled the way Oliver had let out a dramatic breath, as if someone had stabbed him from behind, when he saw Corina dressed in her House colors, despite (as Oliver put it later - ) ‘fraternizing with you as if she were a true-blooded, loyal friend.’  You’d said back, “She is a true-blooded, loyal friend.  If you haven’t noticed yet, she is also a Hufflepuff, Oliver.”

Harry, Ron, and Hermione had been walking behind you and Oliver, and you’d seen how Hermione had lifted her eyebrows at this remark, as if impressed that Oliver had used the word ‘fraternizing’ correctly. 

“Speaking of Hufflepuff,” Alex chirped up, “how is Peter Jones?”

Corina, still slightly irritated with you all for following her and Peter the other time, said shortly, “You never mind about Peter.  I’m not going to tell any of you anything about us until after the holidays – that’s your punishment for following us last time!”

Charlotte sat up.  “All we want to know is whether Peter Jones ever got up the nerve to follow through on kissing you.”

“Yeah,” Alex said, scribbling his signature on the letter to finish it off.  “Because if he didn’t, we’ll gladly write a notice and pin it up on the lost-and-found board for him, stating that on top of still looking for his lost cauldron, he’s also now looking for his lost kiss.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at this, but when Corina shot you a look, you hurriedly sobered.

“No,” Corina repeated, “I’m not telling you lot anything.”

“Aw, c’mon,” Charlotte said, sliding off the bed and rolling over to Corina.  “We said we were sorry.”  She reached up and offered Corina a Chocolate Frog.  “Here, my last one.”

Corina couldn’t help but melt a little.  “Well – Well…”

“Don’t give in so easily, Cor,” you interjected.  “We did follow you and Peter for a whole twenty minutes that morning.”

“You hush that traitorous mouth of yours,” Charlotte shot at you.

You burst out laughing.  Corina shook her head at both you and Charlotte, but then she plucked the Chocolate Frog out of Charlotte’s hand and said, “All right.  I won’t tell you tonight, but I won’t make you wait until after the holidays.  I’ll tell you on the train ride home.”

Charlotte, Alexander, and you whooped loudly, and Corina blushed and turned back to sewing up the giant Gryffindor banner.

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

“GRY-FFIN-DOR!  GRY-FFIN-DOR!”

“And there goes Slytherin Chaser Pucey with the Quaffle.  He passes to Montague, who dodges the Bludger, and throws - !  Good block by Gryffindor Keeper Wood.  And Gryffindor puts the Quaffle back in play, this time led by Chaser Johnson…!”

You cheered along loudly with everybody else, waving your banner as best as you could and with streaks of gold and red paint on your cheeks.  Of course, you were wearing Oliver’s jersey as well, and though you watched the game with everybody else, your gaze was usually on Oliver.  He’s so focused, you thought admiringly.  This game is his today – it has to be. 

Forty-nine minutes later, your prediction turned out to be right.  You vaguely recognized the Gryffindor team carrying out Formations 26 and 27 to pull ahead by twenty points – and then little Harry managed to catch the Snitch to close the game.

“And with Potter’s spectacular catch – Gryffindor has done it!  230 to 140 points, GRYFFINDOR WINS THE QUIDDITCH CUP!”

The crowd burst into absolute pandemonium.  The Gryffindors were obviously ecstatic and immediately ran down to the pitch to congratulate the players, thumping them hard on the shoulders and cheering loudly for them.  You ran down to the team as well, holding in your arms the massive Gryffindor banner that you’d only managed to fold up shoddily.  

Beaming, you raced through the crowd, searching for Oliver and not minding that you were being jostled here and there as everyone packed onto the pitch. 

“Oliver!” you cried out joyfully, spotting him about twenty feet away from you. 

Oliver didn’t quite hear you, as he was too busy pouncing on top of Harry and planting a big kiss on the top of his tiny head.

“Oliver!” Alicia shrieked, trying to yank Oliver off of Harry.  “He’s a first year!  You’ll crunch him with your weight!”

“YOU DID IT! ATTA BOY!” Oliver shouted, grabbing Harry’s surprised face and kissing his forehead.  “WE’RE CHAMPIONS, POTTER! CHAMPIONS! YES!”

Finally, Angelina joined Alicia and the two of them managed to wrench Oliver away from Harry.  Dazed, Harry stumbled forward, with his glasses askew and his hair all stuck-up in the back, and his forehead a bit pink from Oliver’s aggressive kiss. 

Shouldering your way through the crowd as politely as you could, you went over to Harry.  “Hiya,” you said.  “You all right there?”

Harry nodded at you, beaming. 

You reached over and fixed his glasses for him.  “Good game,” you told him.  “That was a hell of a catch.”

“Yeah,” Harry said, and his face split into a wide smile.  “We won!”

You started to reply, but then you paused, brow furrowing and mouth opening in surprise.  Because at that moment, you saw Marcus Flint, still in his Slytherin Quidditch robes, lift up his wand and point it at Oliver, who now had both his arms around Angelina and Alicia and was forcing them into a little jig, a victory dance.

You reacted immediately.  Throwing the banner aside and dashing past Harry, you leapt into the air at Flint - “Aargh!”  You tackled Flint to the ground, barreling into him as hard as you could.

“What the hell?” Flint cried out.  “Who the bloody hell are you?” He grabbed you and pushed you off of him.  You stumbled back. 

“Oh,” Flint said, recognizing you.  His eyes narrowed and he spat out, “Don’t fucking touch me, you dirty little Mudblood.”

“You don’t touch Oliver!” you shouted back hotly.  “The game’s over – you lost fair and square!” 

“You stay out of this!” he yelled back at you.  “What would you know about Quidditch, huh?  Mudblood!” 

Your eyes flashed in anger.  Why do they have to be so vile?  So, what if I am a Muggle-born?  That doesn’t make me any less of a witch!  You yelled at him, “Stop calling me that!”

“Why?  It’s what you are!  Mudblood!”

“Stop it!”

Flint laughed scornfully.  “You gonna cry?  Do it, you pathetic little Mud – Oof!” 

You were as shocked as Flint himself when you realized that the fist hitting his jaw was yours. 

Flint fell back onto the ground, holding his face.  “Fuck!” he spat out.  “That hurt, you bitch!”

Your mouth fell open as you realized that you had punched him.  That was me.  I did that.

From somewhere behind you, Oliver’s voice floated out, wondering, “What’s going on?” For the crowd around you and Flint had now gone still, recognizing that there was a real spat going on.

Furious, Flint clambered clambered back on his feet.  He pulled out his wand and pointed it directly at you.  “Petrificus - !”

You reacted in a split second, blurting out the first spell that came to mind.  “Torsus!”

“Ow, mother - !”

You gasped as you saw Flint’s pants suddenly constrict around his crotch.  The next moment, he was rolling around on the ground. 

Yaxley, a fellow Slytherin who had been standing nearby, chased after Flint, yelling, “What’s wrong?  What’d she do?”

You breathed out heavily as you slowly lowered your wand.  Oh Godric, I didn’t mean to – Why in the world did I have to go and use that spell?  

Clap. Clap. Clap.  You whirled around, only to see Fred and George slow-clapping in sync for you.  George whooped loudly, “Three cheers for the ex-prefect-turned-ballbuster!”

“Huh?” you said in disbelief. “I’m a what?”

“Hurrah!” Fred yelled loudly, punching the air.

You shook your head at the twins.  But inside you thought, well, at least Oliver didn’t see that.  I’d never live it down if he, of all people, saw me using the exact spell I… I berated him for… Your eyes widened.  As the Weasley twins came forward, pulling in Katie and Alicia to form a circle and dance around you while hollering, “HURRAH FOR TWISTED KNICKERS!” over and over again, you saw that standing just behind them was – “Oliver,” you breathed out.

Oliver was staring at you, with his mouth slightly open.  He was clutching onto his wand.  Clearly, he had had every intention of rushing in to defend you.  Only, while desperately trying to shove the Weasleys out of the way, Oliver had slowly come to realize that that you were doing quite well for yourself.  Oliver had watched in amazement as you tackled, punched, and performed a briefs-twisting spell on Flint all in the short span of a minute. 

As you realized in horror that Oliver had witnessed everything, you sank to the ground and covered your face with your hands, completely mortified.  Meanwhile, the Weasley twins switched to chanting, “HURRAH FOR NO MORE FLINTS!  HURRAH FOR NO MORE FLINTS!”

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

“Oliver - ” you began, thinking furiously of how to explain yourself.  Before you could say anything, a group of Gryffindors hoisted Oliver up onto their shoulders.  Shouting, “WOOD IS OUR KING!”, they carried him all the way back up to the castle.   

You let out a long sigh.  Then, you realized – Oh, shucks, where did that banner go?  I was holding it before… You made to look for it, only to find it ripped it half and covered in footprints on the pitch.  You gingerly picked up the two pieces and laid them together on the ground.  Stepping back, you pointed your wand at the pieces.  “Reparo.  Scourgify.” 

You picked up the mended and cleaned banner and started to fold it up neatly, to carry it up to the common room. But at that moment, the sun hit the horizon, definitively falling into sunset, and the heavy golden light streamed into the pitch.  Squinting, you turned your head away from the blinding sun, only to catch sight of the golden hoops, standing proudly high in the air. 

Seven years ago, a tiny little speck of a boy stood here and stared up at those hoops as if they held a promise, you recalled.  And now, today was Oliver’s last game on this pitch.  Five years of Quidditch here, five years of going for his dream… and he did it.  He led his team to victory, and he’s headed off to Puddlemere United after graduation. 

You looked down at the banner in your hands.  Then, you laid the banner on the ground, stepped back, and pulled out your wand again.  Swish and flick and – “Wingardium Leviosa.”

You guided the banner up towards the hoop, until it hung merrily from the middle hoop.  Gazing up at the sparkling golden hopes, you thought warmly, Congratulations, Oliver Benjamin Wood.  You did it. 

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

You arrived at the Gryffindor common room entrance.  You stated the password:  “Striped stockings.”

However, the borderline maniacal cheering going on inside of, “HURRAHHHHH, HURRAH, HURRAH, HURAAH!” drowned out your voice. 

“What?” the Fat Lady said, cupping her ear with her hand.

“Striped stockings!” you said, much more loudly.

“HURRAHHHHH, HURRAH, HURRAH, HURAAH!”

“Once more, dear!” the Fat Lady shouted at you.

You took a deep breath, and then squawked out, as though you were auditioning to be a pelican for your next life – “Striped!  Stockings!”

The Fat Lady nodded once, and the common room door swung open.

You stepped into the common room, only to find an intensely chaotic party in full swing.  Music was blasting, and the common room was packed with people swaying, dancing, and cheering.  Oliver was still hoisted atop a group of people’s shoulders, and he was bobbing up and down amongst the crowd, with his head coming dangerously close to bumping into the chandelier at one point.  Someone had tied a Gryffindor flag around his shoulders, so that he was wearing it like a cape.  Around him, everyone was holding bottles up in the air and screaming, “HURRAH, HURRAH, HURRAH, GRYYFINDOR!”

You shook your head at the craziness of it all.  Some part of you still had the immediate instinct to run away – to run up to your room, burrow under your covers, and get a good night’s sleep.  But now, you felt more strongly that you wanted to stay, so that you could see Oliver and congratulate him.  At the same time, you didn’t want to rush him or pull him away from his well-deserved festivities, so you decided to simply grab a drink and sit on a seat in a corner somewhere.  You knew Oliver would eventually come find you, or you’d spot the right moment to go over to him, and you were more than content to sit and watch the night unfold before then. 

However, as you made your way over to the refreshments table, you spotted an odd sight.  There were two people crouching below the table, peering out across the room at something.  You frowned and crouched down, only to see – “Alex?  Corina?”

“Shush!  Get over here!”  Alex whisper-shouted.  At his side, Corina frantically waved at you, indicating for you to come join them.

You got onto your hands and knees and crawled over to join them under the table, but as you did, you berated them, “What in the world do you two think you’re up to?”

“We’re… scouting,” Alex said, choosing his word carefully.

You shook your head fervently.  Pointing your finger at Corina, you said, “Didn’t you just tell us off for spying on you?”

“Well, yes,” Corina said, blushing in shame.  “But this is unbelievable!”

“What is?”

“Look!” Alex grasped your face, squeezing your cheeks lightly in his hands and he made you turn your head, so that you found yourself staring at –

You gasped.  For there were none other than Cormac and Charlotte, furiously making out with each other, almost wrestling, on top of a tiny, one-person sofa. 

“Is that - ? How did that - ?  What?” you sputtered, in disbelief.

“They ran into each other while getting drinks, and Charlotte split a bit of Butterbeer on his shirt, and they got into another argument,” Corina explained.  “They were yelling at each other, and Charlotte kept saying that she doesn’t even know who he is because she knows that will rile him up - ”

“He’s been getting upset over that for years,” you pointed out.  “How does he still fall for it?”

“Not very bright, McLaggen,” Alexander commented.  “Must be all those Bludgers he’s taken to head, though he’s not even on the Quidditch team.”

“Yes, but then he said something about ‘definitely leaving an impression on her tonight’ and er – well…”  Corina gestured weakly at the two of them. 

The three of you watched for a beat longer, where Cormac grabbed Charlotte by the hooks of her jeans and pulled her roughly on top of him, so that she was suddenly sitting in his lap and straddling him.   

“Merlin, I don’t want to see this!” you groaned, hurriedly looking away. 

“I can’t believe this is happening,” Alexander said, now peeping through his fingers as though he was scared of what he might see next.

“Yeah, I thought she despised him,” Corina remarked.  She was staring up determinedly at the bottom of the table above you now. 

“But, listen,” you pointed out, “Charlotte hooking up with Cormac is insanity, yes, but what are we doing here spying on them?  Is that what we’ve become?  A group of perverted friends?  Because I always thought we made for good friends because we were kind to each other and shared the same sense of humor, not because we’re all – er – perverts - ”

“Oh, please don’t put it that way,” Corina begged you, blushing.  “And this is my first time doing anything remotely like this, I swear!  Besides, Alex pulled me under the table and pointed them out to me.”

You lifted your eye at Alexander.  “Excuse me, sir, are you the instigator this time, too?”

“No!”  Alexander retorted.  “Listen, we’re not perverts.  First off, we never spied on you and Oliver.  Second, with Corina, that was all Charlotte’s idea.  Besides, with Corina, we had to spy on her.”

“What?” Corina said indignantly.  “What do you mean ‘had’ to?”

“Well, we didn’t know anything about Peter, and if he was some shady guy, we weren’t going to let him sweep you away into the forest to try to make moves on you,” Alexander explained.  “And, And – Well, I really wanted to know if he ever found that cauldron of his!”

“Alex!” Corina burst out, exasperated. “Will you forget about the cauldron?”

“I can’t!  It haunts me!  It’s not by choice that I remember,” Alexander fought back.  “Besides, you still haven’t given me a straight answer as to whether he ever found it or not!”

You groaned.  “Will you stop it?  You’re both acting like you’re five year olds!”

“Okay, but we weren’t just spying,” Corina told you, trying to justify herself.  “What Alex and I were really doing was discussing whether or not to let Charlotte go through with this, or whether to find a way to distract Cormac and pull Charlotte away, so that she won’t regret this later.”

“She’s a grown girl.  She can do what she wants,” you said, frowning.

“That’s what I said,” Corina agreed.  

“Yes, but friends are there to watch out for you,” Alex pointed out.  “If she’s going to wake up tomorrow morning and feel disgusted with herself for being with a guy like McLaggen, we should give her the chance to think it over and not go through with it.” 

“I mean, as long as they both said ‘yes’ to it tonight…” you said, shrugging.  “I’m not saying it’s the smartest thing ever to do, but who are we to stand in their way if they both want it?”

“But does she want it?” Alex turned back to glance over at Cormac and Charlotte again.  “I mean, does she really – does she really want him?”

You hesitated.  For a moment, you saw Alex almost crumple inwards.  You blinked.  Wait, does he…?   

Corina saw it, too.  “Alex…” She reached out and touched his shoulder.

Alex shook his head.  “No, I don’t – I didn’t mean it like that.  I only…”  His gaze fell to the floor.  “I only care that she’s all right.” 

At that moment, George Weasley, who had come over to the refreshment table for drinks, spotted Corina’s sneaker peeking out from under the table.  He called out, “Wotcher!  Is somebody passed out under the table here?” 

“Oh, no!” Corina said quickly.  “I dropped something, but we’ve found it.”

The three of you hastily crawled out from under the table.  As you did, you called, “George?”

“Hm?”

“Would you have a teeny, tiny firecracker to share?”

George paused, with the Butterbeer bottle at his lips.  “What?”

“A baby sparkler, say,” you suggested.  “One that could go off in a crowded room like this one and not hurt anyone.” 

“What do you need that for?” George wondered, and Corina and Alex looked at you questioningly as well.

“Please,” was all you said.

“Will you buy it off of me?” George asked you.

“Sure.  One Sickle.”

“Two.”

“One Sickle,” you repeated.

“One Sickle and six Knuts.”

You sighed.  “Fine, fine.  One Sickle and six Knuts.”

“Excellent.  Wait here.”  With that, George was off.

“Really, what do you need a firework for?”  Corina asked you again. 

“I just really think Charlotte and Cormac are having a heated moment, and could use a bit of a spark,” you murmured.

Corina’s nose wrinkled as she said again, “What?”

“Never mind,” you told her.  “You’ll see.”

In that moment, as you waited for George, you noticed, across the crowd, a familiar face that kept going from side-to-side, obviously sweeping the ground to look for someone.  It was Oliver, of course, and you smiled when you saw him, clearly trying to figure out where you were.  You raised your wand and waved it at him.

Oliver quickly weaved through the crowd, ducking and stepping around several people to get to you.  When he reached you, he simply stopped in front of you.  But, fresh from his Quidditch win and being the center of the celebration, the energy that was radiating from him was incredible.  You were a bit awestruck in that moment, taken aback by how the air around him seemed to hum with some incredible energy, how warmth radiated off of him so strongly, and how alive he looked – with his messy hair, flushed cheek, and his bright, glimmering eyes, full of joy at the victory he and his team had managed to achieve.

“There you are.” Oliver came up to you, beaming.  “We won, you know.”

“I know,” you said, smiling warmly back at him.  “I saw you.” 

Oliver grinned, and he reached out to you.  His hands found your hips and he pulled you towards him.  You looked up at him.  For a moment, the sight of him, so exuberant, so alive, while feeling his hands so steady and warm on your hips, made you lose track of your thoughts.  For once, your thoughts weren’t immediately jumping to worries about whether or not it was appropriate to be seen in the common room like this, by all your fellow Gryffindors.  Instead, all you could think about, all you cared about, was that Oliver was with you. 

“I’m so proud of you,” you told him.  “You were amazing, you know, and so was the team.”

Oliver put his hand on the top of your head. “Well, it’s all thanks to you, my lucky charm.”

You peeked up at him. “I’m not that lucky, y’know.  Some of it was you.”

Oliver grinned.  “Some of it, huh?”

“Mhm, some of it.”

Oliver chuckled. “Well, thanks.  And you had that massive banner.  I saw it right away in the stands.  Well, I saw you first, in my jersey and all, and then I noticed the banner.” His eyes swept over you, and his smile deepened, dimples appearing on his cheeks, as he saw his number and name printed on your oversized shirt. “Thanks.  Thanks for doing all that.”

“No problem. And Corina, Charlotte, and Alex helped a lot with the banner.  They were rooting for you, too.”

“Even Corina?” Oliver said skeptically, remembering when he’d run into Corina when she was dressed in support of the Hufflepuff team.

“Yeah. You know, she was just rooting for her own team.  The fact that she’s a Hufflepuff doesn’t make her a villain.”

“Ah, right.  Still.”

“What d’you mean ‘still?’” you said, now laughing a little.

Oliver started to retort, but seeing you laughing openly and being so playful with him, with your cheeks still streaked with Gryffindor-color paint and still wearing his jersey, despite the fact that you were smack in the middle of the type of crowd that used to make you want to run away, he softened.  In a quieter, lower voice, he ventured to say, “Maybe I’m wrong about this, but you don’t seem to mind as much about wearing my jersey in front of everyone.”

You smiled at this. “You’re right. I don’t mind it anymore. It’s yours, and I’m happy I get to wear it.” 

“Right,” Oliver said, and his heart thumped a little in his chest.  He murmured, a bit thoughtlessly, “You think I’m a good Captain now, so you don’t mind wearing my jersey anymore.”

You cocked your head at him a little.  Well, that’s not exactly what I mean when I say I’m happy to wear something of yours.  I mean, that’s not all I mean by it.  But oh, I can tell that it makes him so happy to think that.  Finally, you nodded back at him. 

“Right,” Oliver mumbled.  He reached out and gently stroked your cheek with the back of his finger.

You both simply stared at each other for a moment.  Then, you blurted out, from out of nowhere, “Still not as good as the Captain of Puddlemoor Unified, though.  But closer now.”

Oliver laughed, and his laugh was still raspy.  At the same time, his hands slipped under your jersey and found your hips again, this time atop your jeans.  His hands softly and naturally began to shift up and down, feeling your curves just the tiniest bit.  “Um,” Oliver murmured, looking away a little, “you know, the last couple times, I never really – I mean, you had your shirt on the whole time… But if you’re okay with it, if you’d let me – let me see, uh, you, I’d like that. Um…” He worked hard to keep his expression neutral, but as you watched him mumble, you saw the tips of his ears go red.

Oh… Oh Godric, how cute. Before you even thought about it, you leaned forward, grasped his face and gently tugged him towards you, and then kissed him.  You pressed your lips to his warmly and then, when you’d both broken apart to catch your breaths, you whispered affectionately, “Well, that’s nothing to fret about.  I’m sure we can find an opportunity for you to fix that soon enough, right?” 

Oliver’s hands slid up onto your lower back, and he pressed you to him, while he shifted forward a little.  All of a sudden, you were nestled up right against his chest, and he was kissing you back.  The whole world melted away, and you closed your eyes and relaxed, letting your lips part a little, letting the kiss get a little deeper, and a little more –

“Ahem.” 

You and Oliver broke apart.  Suddenly, you were back on your feet and blinking your eyes open again.  The sounds of the party flooded back into your ears, and you remembered where you and Oliver were.

George was standing in front of you two now.  Holding out a thin piece of rolled-up parchment, he said wryly, “If you’re done giving everyone a start demonstration of how babies get made, here’s the firework you asked for.”

“Excuse me?” you blurted out, going bright red at George’s comment.

Oliver took the firework from George.  He turned to you and said, “You asked for this?”

“What? Oh, oh, yes,” you replied, still a bit flustered.  You clumsily fished a Sickle and six Knuts out of your pocket and handed it to George. 

George shot you a flirty wink before he went on his way, with a last comment of, “Whatever you do with that – I’m no longer liable for it, all right?”

“What do you need this for?” Oliver asked, examining the firework before handing it over to you. 

“Well…”  You gestured vaguely over at the single sofa, where Cormac and Charlotte were still furiously making out.  “I, um, I thought I’d be a good friend and give Charlotte the option of coming back to her senses.”

“With a firework?”

“Yeah.”  You rolled up your sleeves.  “Like this.” 

Oliver watched you as you asked a couple of Gryffindors to clear out of the way and then, whilst carefully eyeing the distance between you and the sofa, you weighed the firestick a couple of times in your hand before you held your breath and then carefully chucked the firework towards Cormac and Charlotte.  The firework hit the carpet and rolled along merrily until it rolled right under the sofa.

You paused.  Nothing happened.  You mumbled, “Shucks, maybe I threw it a little too far - ”

Boom!  Cormac and Charlotte shouted and threw themselves off of the sofa as underneath them, a tiny explosion went off, just enough to rock the sofa they were on.  Everyone near them leapt back, too, as tiny spirals of light exploded from under the sofa.  Thankfully, the lights were quite small and stayed within the vicinity of the sofa, so no one was burned, as everyone had been giving Cormac and Charlotte a wide berth anyways. 

A few feet away, you saw Alex and Corina whip around and look at you in disbelief.  You shrugged, feeling a little sheepish.

“Good throw, ace,” Oliver said admiringly, placing his hand on top of your head. 

You remarked, “All that Quaffle practice paid off, I guess.”

Oliver chuckled.  “Chaser practice, not Quaffle practice.”

“Hm?”

“Chasers throw the Quaffle.  Since you were practicing throwing the Quaffle, that’d be Chaser practice.  If you wanted to practice being a Quaffle, you’d need to, I dunno, practice being very tan and very rotund.”

It suddenly hit you what Oliver was saying, and you burst out laughing.  “Oh, right.”  You thought this over for a second and then said, “You know what?  I don’t think I’d mind that at all.”

Oliver grinned.  “Anyways, what was that firework all about?”

“Oh, nothing.”

Oliver lifted his eyebrow at you.  “Really?”

“Yes, really.”

“All right, then, I’ve another question for you.”

“Okay, ask me,” you said, reaching over to hold Oliver’s hand.  You felt so warm and soft with him right now, like the two of you were sinking into your own little world of peaceful, blissful –

But then, Oliver asked, “What was that between you and Flint today?”

You paused.  The soft atmosphere shattered immediately, as you suddenly recalled the shameful, sudden bout you’d had with Flint out on the Quidditch pitch tonight.  You winced as you thought to yourself, Oh Godric, are you telling me Oliver saw all that?  No, please, say he only saw a bit of it.  Half-heartedly, you murmured, “What are you talking about, exactly?”  You purposefully looked down at your and Oliver’s hands, and you focused hard on running your thumb along the side of Oliver’s index finger.  He didn’t see it, he didn’t see it, nope, he didn’t see it…

Oliver cocked his head at you, puzzled.  “What happened today, I mean.  Surely you didn’t forget.  It was only an hour ago.” 

“You know what happened today,” you replied, trying to sound matter-of-fact.  “You played brilliantly today and you’re a great Captain so you led your team to victory.”

Oliver nodded fervently at this, acknowledging it.  “Well, yeah, sure.  But I was talking about you, after the game.”

You shook your head innocently.  “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

Finally, Oliver sensed that you were trying to deceive him.  He pressed, “You were going hand-to-hand with Flint.  I saw you.  Pretty ballsy of you, y’know, to take on the Slytherin Quidditch Captain who is a full foot taller than both of us.”

You blushed at this.

Oliver took your chin in his other hand and gently pushed your face up.

Finally, you confessed, “I didn’t mean to!  Honestly.  I – I can explain - ”

“Please.”

“I was trying to find you after the game, to congratulate you.  But I saw Flint standing there, and I swear to Godric, he was pointing his wand at you.  He clearly meant to curse you, even though he’d already lost the game, fair and square!  It’s so out-of-line.  I swear, he is such a coward - ”

“So you were protecting me?” Oliver murmured, and his hand slipped from your chin to your cheek, and he held your face gently, letting his thumb swipe gently over your cheek.

“Yes, of course!” you said, a bit heated up as you thought back to the moment where you saw Filch and realized what that scumbag intended to do.  “You think I was going to let him hex you just like that?  And I didn’t mean to react like that, I wanted to be – to be reasonable, to handle it civilly, only he already had his wand out.  He could have hexed you at any moment, so I sort-of leapt at him - ”

“You sure did,” Oliver agreed.  “Hard enough to tackle him to the ground.”

“And then the bastard called me a ‘Mudblood - ’”

Oliver growled.

“And so,” you continued, “I…”

“You what?”

“Hit him in the face.  Again, I didn’t mean to!”

“He deserved it, calling you that,” Oliver said, his voice low and angry. 

“After that, Flint tried to hex me and I reacted immediately and…” You fell silent.

Oliver cocked his head at you, as if to say, Yes…?

You bowed your head down a little as you confessed, “I used that – that spell.”

“What spell?  Not Avada Kedavra?”

“No!”  You lightly hit your palms against Oliver’s chest.  “The other one - ”

“Cruicia - ?”

“No.”  You let out a breath.  “The – The one I told you not to use.”

Oliver’s eyes lit up.  “The Twisting Spell?  You used it on Flint?”

You nodded, ashamed.

Oliver bit his lower lip. You couldn’t quite read his expression – whether he was about to point out your hypocrisy or make fun of you for resorting to such a spell.  But then Oliver reeled off, quite matter-of-factly, as if he was reciting his usual breakfast order, “So, let me get this straight:  You tackle Flint, punch him, and then twist his pants around his balls.  Meanwhile, he didn’t land any hits or curses on you.  Am I right?” 

You nodded shamefully.

Meanwhile, Oliver puffed out his chest with pride, elated that not only he and his team, but also his girl, had bested the Slytherin Captain on this wonderful Championship Day.  What a way to go out!  he thought to himself, thrilled.  “Hell, ace,” he said, proudly grinning at you.  “You do have it in you, don’t you?  I forget because you get all soft with me, love, but I remember how you used to yank me off my broom and haul me back to the castle whenever I got too close to curfew.  Flint got the same treatment today, huh?” 

You buried your face in your hands.  “I only did that because I was a prefect before.”  You pleaded to Oliver, “Can we not speak about this again?”

Seeing you embarrassed, Oliver tried to tone down his enthusiasm.  But he still chuckled before he put his hand lovingly on your head and said kindly, “Yeah, all right.  No more words about this, then.”

Relieved, you dropped your hands and looked up at Oliver again.  “Yes, please, no more… words…”  You paused.  When you had looked up, Oliver’s hand fell from the top of your head onto your shoulder.  Out of instinct, Oliver had naturally closed his hand a little and for a moment, his fingers had gently felt your soft little neck.

Suddenly, it was Oliver who was blushing.  “Uh, sorry,” he said, a bit sheepishly.  He made to pull his hand away.

But you caught his hand and squeezed it in yours.  “Wait…”

Oliver hesitated.  “Um, what?” His eyes flickered down to yours, and he met your gaze – your beautiful, smoldering, wanting gaze.  He swallowed hard.   

You whispered, in a tiny voice that, by all laws of science, should not have been audible over the party sounds.  But Oliver heard you, crystal clear, as he watched your perfect lips sound out his name, his name – “Oliver.”

By now, Oliver knew what you meant, when you said his name just so, and he didn’t have to doubt himself about it.  At once, Oliver swept you away, right off of your feet, and carried you through the crowd.  Only a little while ago, you would have been too embarrassed to let Oliver hold your hand and lead you through the crowd.  But now, all you could see, and all you cared about was him.  You hardly noticed the people around you, nor all the sounds of the party surrounding you.  You’d discovered, little by little, the trick to getting out of your head – to become braver was often a consequence, you realized, of caring about something more than your own ego. 

Now, all you wanted was to be with Oliver, and you didn’t really care about much else.  Your heart leapt with excitement as Oliver took you up the stairs and into his bedroom.  He put you down on his bed, but he followed you right away.  You naturally came to open your thighs up so that he could lay on top of you.  Your hands found his shoulders at once, and you gently tugged him towards you, inviting him to fall on top of you.  Feeling how eager you were for him, Oliver let out a soft, breathless, and happy, if not a little nervous laugh.  You exhaled slightly harder than usual as Oliver’s wide, strong hips pushed apart your thighs even more than you had anticipated. 

It was so strange, how every time you felt Oliver, you remembered that he was quite built.  It should be obvious because he was such an intense athlete.  Only, because you saw Oliver at his softest, always, and the two of you were basically the same height, and his hair was slightly soft and scruffy, and his eyes always turned down at the edges when he looked at you, and he blushed so often, and he was a bit of a klutz, and he dressed usually in oversized clothing, that you sort-of forgot that he was such a physical person.  It was only when he was very close to you like this, that you remembered that your boyfriend was also a strong, fiercely intense, and somewhat intimidating person, too, even when he wasn’t trying to be.  His thighs pushed yours apart effortlessly, and without even trying, he kept you like that, spread open on the bed in a slightly compromising position.  Even now, as you felt his hands, callused from Quidditch, graze over the line where your shirt met your pants, you paused, because his hands were so broad and rough on you.  Your heart thumped and your breath hitched – and then Oliver kissed you, and your head fell back against the bed. 

But before you became too nervous, you felt Oliver’s mouth shape softly around yours, holding you so warmly until you responded, and only then did he push his mouth wantingly against yours, and you remembered, too, how patient and thoughtful he was with you.  Your hands met his chest, and you smiled a little, as you found your anchor, your safety, and your happiness in him. 

Oliver felt you smile, and he paused to whisper, “What?  What is it?”

You murmured honestly, “I think I fall in love with you all over again every time  you kiss me.”

Oliver paused, rather taken aback by your romantic comment.  “Oh,” he said, and he felt like an absolute idiot for not knowing what else to  say, but honestly, when you made these little remarks, it just about put his heart and head into a chokehold.  Because it was all wonderful, too wonderful, and so how could one respond to something perfect? 

Sensing Oliver freeze a little, you lifted your head and whispered affectionately, “So kiss me again, won’t you?” 

Oliver quickly obliged.  You sighed in happiness, loving this moment.  After a few seconds, Oliver reached over and blindly felt around until he managed to find the soft pillow that he had bought for you.  He managed to slot it under your head, and you smiled at him again, this time in thanks.  And then, the two of you were back to kissing each other fervently. 

Oliver leaned into you more and more, until you felt his hips pushing yours down firmly into the mattress.  You loved feeling Oliver melt into you so easily now, no longer have to think about it or feel too self-conscious.  You hugged him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, and your fingers curled up gently at the nap of his neck. 

Minutes went by in which the two of you traded kisses that were getting heavier and hotter by the second, until the two of you were panting heavily into each other’s mouths.  You felt like your heart was going to burst if you didn’t get to have more of Oliver somehow and without a second thought, you managed to take Oliver’s shirt off of him.  In return, Oliver slid his hands up, pushing up your shirt and then touching your breasts and tummy all over.  He meant to take your shirt off of you properly, but then you wrapped your arms around him rather impatiently and pulled him back down to you.  Moaning a little, you tugged lightly at his hair, as you felt yourself heat up under his touch. 

“Oliver,” you breathed out raggedly.  You were squirming a little under him now, desperately needing more from him. 

“Ace…” Oliver breathed out, noticing the way that you were starting to wiggle your hips under him.  His hands fell to the waistband of your pants.  He paused as he let his index finger slip in.

“Yes,” you said encouragingly, “go on, please.” 

Oliver slid your pants down your legs softly, lovingly, taking his time.  However, your jeans caught on your plush thighs, and he had to give your jeans a little tug to get them off.  When they were finally off, Oliver took a moment to let his hands glide over your thighs and then he squeezed them in his hands.  So soft, my girl, he marveled. 

You giggled a little, as it felt ticklish.  Oliver gave you a rueful smile, and then he let his hands fall on either side of your head, and he bent down to kiss you harder.

“Don’t laugh,” he whispered, with his lips against yours.  “S’ not my fault you come all cute and soft like that.  It makes me – I mean, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with myself when you’re so soft, baby.”

At this, you said a bit mischievously, “Oh, Captain Wood, I think you know exactly what you’re supposed to do with me…” Then, you bit down softly and teasingly on his lower lip.  “That’s a little hint, anyhow,” you murmured sweetly. 

Oliver instinctively growled a little.  As his mouth was against yours, you felt his growl send a shiver through you.  Oh, my, you thought to yourself, mm… I want to feel that part of his energy, too.  Yes… I know he can give it to me.  Oh, Gods, I want it. I want all of him.  You brought your legs up and wrapped your strong, gorgeous, plush thighs around his waist, drawing him down into you.  Then, Oliver felt your hand oh-so-sweetly slide down into his pants and boxers and –

“Uh.” In contrast to that hard, deep growl, Oliver’s groan was soft and needy.  He switched so quickly in front of you, and his mind spun as he realized how easily you turned him into this soft puddle.  It embarrassed him, to be honest, but then, he didn’t think he could help himself when he was around you.  Even now, your hand wrapped around his cock so needily, and your palm was warm and steady against him – and Oliver was a goner.  He couldn’t think, could hardly breathe when you touched him like this.  Then, you started to move your hand up and down – and Oliver’s chest tightened as he tried not to show how badly this was affecting him – too soon, too soon, he berated himself harshly.  But then, as you continued to stroke his cock with your sweet little hand, you also began to plant adoring kisses all up and down his neck. Oliver wanted to compliment you, praise you, thank you – something, but all he managed to do was breath out, in a near whimper, “Baby…”

You hummed happily, and you let your mouth latch onto his neck and suck softly as your hand kept making that sweet, sinful motion – going up and down, up and down.

Oliver was holding on as best as he could, but he couldn’t help himself except to tense up everywhere – until he was shivering all over.  All of a sudden, he let out a hard grunt and then, he grabbed your wrist, and softly, but desperately, pinned you down on the bed, with your hand over your head.

“I – I can’t – If you keep going - ” Oliver huffed out.

Your eyes widened slightly. “Oh.”

Oliver bit down on his lower lip and said, blushing, “Don’t say it like that.”

“I didn’t say anything,” you replied softly.  While your right hand was pinned over your head, you lifted your left hand and ran it tenderly down the side of Oliver’s face.  “Oliver…”  You let your hand drift down to his chest.

With a groan, Oliver grabbed your left hand, too, and pinned it over your head.  As he did, he whispered, “Sorry, I just – um – your touch - ”  Then, all at once, Oliver melted on top of you.  Letting go of both your hands, he fell gently on top of you, burrowing his face against your neck.  “I can’t - ” he breathed out harshly.  Meanwhile, his hands found your waist, and he squeezed your waist hard, making you exhale sharply and arch your back a little.  “ – fucking take it when you do that to me - ”Then, his hands ran over your curves, down to your lower back.  “Uhn, baby, please - ” He gripped at your panties rather roughly and yanked them off of you.  “Let me be inside you,” he whispered throatily.  “I need you to take me, sweetheart.  Now. Please.” 

You breathed out heavily, and your heart thumped hard.  He sounds so… so… You suddenly felt a bit overwhelmed, a bit tense, a bit feverish, all over. 

“Babe,” Oliver moaned again.  “Please…”

You hastened to listen to his plea.  You reached down and let the tip of Oliver’s cock run up and down your little slit a few times, making him wet and slick. 

Oliver groaned deeply, feeling his cock pressing up against your pussyhole.  His cock throbbed hotly in your hand.  But then, you paused, as you suddenly remembered from last time, “Wait, didn’t you say that you wanted to undress me properly?”

“Yeah, but - ” Oliver grunted softly, “I don’t think I can hold back right now, sweetheart.  Just – remind me sooner next time, all right?”

You agreed easily, “Oh, okay.” 

Feeling how tense Oliver was against you (you weren’t sure if he realized it, but he was breathing quite heavily already, with his chest going up and down, and his hips shivering slightly as he held himself above you, waiting for you to take him), you hastily guided Oliver to you.  As soon as Oliver was sure that you had him where he wanted you, that he wouldn’t hurt you, he pushed himself into you – rather roughly, rather furiously this time.

“A-Ah!”  Your tummy tightened at once, as you felt Oliver bully his cock deep into your pussy.  You thought dreamily to yourself, That first moment of taking a man inside of you, of feeling someone you adore enter you and spread your pussy open on his thick, heavy cock –  Oh, Gods, it feels so good.  I want – I want – Ah, I want him to fill me up completely. 

“Mmm,” Oliver groaned, heavy and deep.  His hips released a deep shiver, as he felt your pussy start to wrap around the tip of his cock.  “F-Fuck, that feels – you feel s-so good - ”

“Mm, yeah,” you breathed out in a quick, sharp pant.  You put your hands on Oliver’s sides and tugged a little, telling him that you needed him to move.  He did, at once.

“Ah,” you gasped softly, feeling his cock start to spread you out properly.

“Oh Gods, you’re so tight,” Oliver panted out, watching you carefully to make sure he wasn’t pushing too hard.

But you, with your mouth falling open so cutely, moaned out wantingly, “More!” 

“Like this?” Oliver pushed forward a little.

“Nngh!”  You gasped, feeling the way your hips sunk into the mattress as Oliver thrust into you a little. 

“More?” Oliver breathed out, and he pushed even harder into you.

“O-Oh my God,” you whined out softly.  He’s already… Ah…! Your hands came up and you clutched at his forearms while you arched your back on the bed.  You had been holding your thighs open as much as you could, but with that little thrust, you melted completely and your thighs fell open entirely. 

“What?” Oliver blurted out nervously.  Because you were suddenly so soft, all gathered up in his arms and yet all blushing and sweet and melting, as if you were going to slip right out of the bed, like silk gliding off of a mattress.

“Are you okay?  I didn’t – Did I do something wrong?” Oliver checked with you, pausing.  He watched as your thighs fell open and your tummy rippled, just from taking him in a little.  I didn’t push in too hard, did I? he worried.

You shook your head and whispered, in a tiny little voice that made Oliver want to die from adoration of you, “N-No, you didn’t do anything wrong.  It just feels s-so good.”

You put your hands on Oliver’s shoulders and then, letting out a hard little pant, you shifted your hips, rolling them forward and back, taking in more of Oliver inside of you and feeling his cock nestle deeper into your pussy.  You moaned softly, loving that he was inside of you. “Uhn…”

Oliver groaned.  He couldn’t imagine anything better than this – that you would work yourself to take him, letting yourself get all warm and soft to take him like this.  He noticed, with great affection, how your face had gone all pink already, and a strand of your hair was stuck to your forehead, though the rest of your hair was splayed out around you, covering the pillow he’d bought for you.

He remembered looking for that pillow for you.  He’d walked into the shop and murmured, a bit uncertainly, “Uh, the softest you’ve got, please.”  The employee had said, “What?”  And Oliver had had to repeat, “The softest one.  Pillow, I mean.”  In his mind, he’d finished, for the softest girl.  And having you under him like this and watching you fall apart so beautifully, Oliver knew he was right.

On top of that, Oliver fell all the more in love with you because he’d also been reminded today of your other side – what with the way you gave Flint an unforgettable bollocking both in Muggle and magical dueling, and then proceeded to throw that firework to perfection in a crowded room.  You were feisty, after all, Oliver knew, under all the doubts you were battling – and then, even under that feistiness, there was that part of you that was a dreamer, that was hopeful, that knew and was not afraid of falling in love.  And that was the you that was falling into this moment with Oliver, and seeing how open you were and how much you seemed to want him – Oliver finally relaxed a little, and he was able to simply let go and enjoy you.

You felt Oliver’s hands, feverishly warm, slip into yours and push your fingers gently apart, and then his fingers slid in-between yours and he grasped your hands so warmly in his.  Then, his palms pushed down against yours, and you found yourself with your hands pinned down on the bed on either side of you.  At the same time, his thrusts became a little harder, a little deeper, as he buried himself inside of you. You moaned, feeling his cock sink into your plush little pussy, stretching you out over and over again, pushing inside of you in quickening thrusts.

The two of you were rather hasty tonight, but it was exactly what you needed, after all the adrenaline today – Oliver, from his match, and you, from your tussle with Flint.  Besides that, you and Oliver had been so very careful with each other so far, and while that had been very necessary and, truth be told, the ultimate form of love and care for each other, tonight invited in a different energy – a more desperate and carnal one, and the fact that you’d spent so much time being careful with each other made it all the more exciting and pleasurable to rush into it tonight.  Because there was that foundation of trust between the two of you, and Oliver knew that he could trust you to guide him as he learned how to make love with you, and you knew that what Oliver cared most about was that you felt safe and adored, in whatever manner he took you in.  And you did.

Even now, as things heated up, and Oliver started to fuck you in earnest, driving his hips forward to pound your tight pussy with his cock, filling you all the way up with him – with your thighs slapping together, and your pussy getting steadily wetter for him – and your breath hitching and your breasts bouncing softly as the effort of taking him made you shift all over the bed – you only felt that much more safe and adored by him.

Oliver groaned heavily. He thrust hard into your pussy, making you yelp – and then he stayed like that, buried deep inside of you.

You gasped loudly, and your thighs shook. “Oli – ah! – Oliver?” you bleated out, confused.

“Just – a – minute,” Oliver huffed out.  He had buried his face against your neck, and you felt him bit down hard on your shoulder.

“Nngh…” you breathed out.  What is he doing?

Oliver squeezed your hands hard in his, and he huffed out hard a few more times. 

“Are you okay?” you asked him, squeezing his hands back.

“Yeah,” he breathed out.  “I just – I don’t wanna – uhn – c-cum too soon.”

“Oh.” You nearly laughed because you found it adorable how much effort it was taking him to hold himself together, but you quickly bit down on your lower lip and kept quiet.

Oliver seemed to know anyhow, however, before he said, in a muffled voice, “You’re laughing at me, aren’t you?”

“No, no,” you said quickly and reassuringly.  “It’s only – Well, it’s fine if you cum for me now, baby, honestly.  It would feel so good, you know.”

Oliver shook his head.  Finally, still panting, he lifted his head.

You blinked, surprised by how flushed his face was, and his intense his gaze was.  His jaw was set, and there was a blazing fire in his normally soft eyes.

“Um, or not,” you said at once.

Oliver finally let your hands go, and he ran his hands all down your arms and then onto your shoulders and then over your breasts.  Your breath hitched, as he ran his warm hands all over you.  Finally, he grasped your hips and he murmured, “Love, do you think you could – uh, would it be too much to ask you to turn over for me?”

Excitement raced through you, and you eagerly shook your head.  You might have been a little too excited, as it turned out, because instead of simply rolling over onto your tummy and laying back down, you got up onto your hands and knees and, waving your ass prettily in the air, you put your head back down on your pillow, but you kept your hips up in the air.

Oliver paused, as he waited for you to lie down completely.  But when you didn’t, he found his eyes glancing up towards your – your – He swallowed hard.  Uh, shit, she’s right – right there.  I mean, her – her pussy – all wet and – and –

“Well,” you asked him softly, “aren’t you gonna keep fucking me?”

“Just give me a moment,” Oliver said hoarsely, as he realized that you intended for him to take you just like that, in that perfect position.  Oliver knew it was ridiculous to be embarrassed at this point, but he was – not by you, but by how fucking turned on he was for you.  Seeing you in this, a position which he had purposefully forced himself not to think of you in, because he worried it’d be disrespectful to you somehow, but seeing you willingly do this for him and then ask him, with an impatient tone underlying your voice, whether he was going to take you or not, it made something rise up within Oliver.  It made him tense up all over, and for a second, he had to fight back the more intense, animalistic urges that roaring to life within him. 

Letting out another hard breath, Oliver controlled himself again.  He stepped forward, taking his place on his knees just behind you, and then he guided his cock back to your waiting, wet little pussy.

As soon as you felt Oliver’s cock press up against your pussy lips, you murmured, “Mmm,” and shifted your hips needily in the air.

Oh, Gods, she’s gonna be the death of me, Oliver moaned in his head.  Then, he pushed himself back inside of you.  As he did, Oliver noticed the way your thighs trembled so deliciously for him, as did your curves, and that line in your back became more pronounced as you breathed out heavily and let the tension of his cock pushing you open wash over your whole body.

“Ah,” you moaned, and then again, in a more strained voice – “ahh!”  You bowed your head forward as Oliver pushed himself all the way inside of you, inch by inch.  Oliver meant to be gentlemanly when he reached forward and gently pulled your hair back into a ponytail, but when he had to settle back to push into you again, he accidentally yanked you up a little, tugging your head back a tad as he thrust into you.

“Ah!” You cried out loudly in surprise, and Oliver started to apologize, except then – Oliver stared with wide eyes as he suddenly felt your pussy get very, very wet, just from that little thrust.

“Um, do you – do you like this?” Oliver wondered, gripping your hair in his hands.

You nodded as best as you could, and Oliver’s brain went a bit haywire as he thought to himself, Oh… Oh.

“Is that weird?” you asked softly.  “You don’t have to do it.” “No, it’s not weird. It’s, um…” Oliver hesitated.  How could he describe what this image of you, on your hands and knees for him, with your hair gripped in his hand, while your thighs shook and your pussy was completely spread open with the effort of taking in his hard, thick cock, did to him? 

“You don’t have to,” you told him softly.

“No,” Oliver said instantly, “I will.”  He suddenly gripped your hair harder and he gave you a little thrust, as he promised you fervently, “I will.”

“Ah!” you gasped, feeling that soft flame burst alive deep in your pussy, while at the same time, you could feel your head being jerked back ever so slightly by Oliver’s grasp on your hair.  “Keep – Keep going,” you huffed out, your voice slightly harried and breathless.

Oliver obliged you, and only a few thrusts in, he realized that this position worked quite well for both of you.  He was privy to this absolutely gorgeous, if not sinful, view of you and as for you – Judging from your heartbreaking moans and whines, this wasn’t too bad for you either.  In fact - “Baby,” Oliver breathed out, his voice tense, “isn’t this – mm – isn’t this where you said your spot was last time?” He pushed in again right as he said it, and he felt the tip of his cock crash into your sweet spot, all hot and tight, deep inside of you.

“Y-Yeah,” you whimpered out, “ah, yeah, yeah, yeah…!”

Oliver moaned back in reply, as he found your soft, desperate whimpers shooting straight into his heart, as if they were something heavenly like Cupid’s arrows and not just little sounds tumbling from your sweet lips, and Oliver found himself feeling as desperate as he was pleasured.  She’s unbelievably stunning, my girl, Oliver whispered in his head fervently, as though he were confessing it in secret.  It was true, though.  Not only did your pretty moans affect him so, but Oliver also couldn’t help but be mesmerized by the sight of you.  Your back kept arching in, and your waist became more defined, in contrast to your shoulders and hips, as he fucked your pussy from behind while holding onto your hair.  And your thighs – Oh God, your thighs, so fucking hot when they quiver like that, and she’s so soft, she’s always so soft – how the fuck is she such a soft and pretty thing for me? 

Oliver was half-convinced that this was all a dream, and not at all real, as he took you this way.  I probably took another Bludger to the head during the last game, and now I’m having all these dreams about her, he decided.  Yeah, that’s only fitting.  Got a Bludger to the head and got knocked out for days in my first game.  It only makes sense that that would happen to me on my last game, right?

But then – Oliver cursed and he gripped your hair quite tight as suddenly, you threw your head back and, with your body quivering all over and hips shaking, you let out a long, arching moan, “Ahhh!”  Oliver suddenly held his breath and gritted his teeth as he felt your pussy clamp down and squeeze all over his cock.

“F-Fuck!” he spat out, and his thighs tensed quite a bit as he held himself together, fighting the instinct to fuck you even harder, right through your orgasm.

“I – ah – I – I’m c-cumming, I’m cumming!” you bleated out, and then, you pushed your face into the pillow and let out a hard, long moan.  You pushed your hips back too, sitting yourself right now on Oliver’s cock. 

Oliver huffed out in surprise, and his hands flew to your hips.  He gripped your hips hard and held onto you tightly as you cummed hard on his cock.

“Ah…! Ah!” you gasped heavily, tummy rippling as you stretched yourself to the maximum as that intense wave of pleasure rode through your entire body.  You hugged your pillow quite desperately, so that not only were you pressing your face into it, but you threw your arms around it and sobbed into it now.

As you slowly finished cumming, you let out a hard, exhausted huff and your hips began to float down ever so softly – but you were leaving Oliver, who had just barely managed to withstand your cumming all over his cock like that without interrupting you, quite needy.

“Wait,” Oliver begged you, “c’mon, baby, don’t give out on me just yet.”  He slid his hands under your tummy and hugged you around your waist, and then, he pulled you up so that you had to sit up for him.

Your hard, exhausted pants ripped through the air at once, and you let out a soft little whine as Oliver hugged you against him, with his chest pressing into your back.  Your legs were folded under you now, so that you were sitting up.

“Do you need a break?” Oliver asked you softly, as he held you and peppered your shoulders with kisses.  “I can wait for you, sweetheart, or we can stop here.”  But even as he said that, you could feel Oliver’s hard cock, throbbing against your ass.

“N-No,” you bleated out.  You reached back and pressed your shaking hands against Oliver’s abs.  “Want you a-again,” you managed to say. 

“You sure?” Oliver checked in with you again, even as his hips twitched in anticipation.

“Yes,” you said, nodding your little head for him.  “Mm, yes, please.  Need my pussy filled again, Oliver.  Need your cock inside me again, and need you to cum in me before we finish.”

“Shit,” Oliver cursed softly.  “All right, baby.”  He wrapped one arm firmly around your waist, anchoring you to him.  With his other hand, he reached down and, feeling his hand sink a little against your soft ass, he helped to lift you up a little.  You shifted your thighs apart and pushed your hips back, so that you were still sitting, but you were sitting nicely on your ass and pussy, putting yourself right where Oliver could enter you again.  And he did, he absolutely filled you right back up again.

“Oh God!” you cried out, because fuck, was he hard for you.  Your hands curled up into tight fists atop your knees and you let out a sob and your head drooped forward as a little, as your tender, hot pussy had to take such a thick, needy cock again.

Meanwhile, Oliver moaned in complete relief, feeling your pussy close around him once more.  But it was only for a second, and then, that relief turned into complete, furious need.  He thrust upwards, driving his cock deep into your pussy from the first push.

“Uhn!” you gasped, the sound wrenched from your throat. 

Oliver panted hard as he pushed himself into you over and over again.  He could feel your pussy pulsing and dripping everywhere, just like it ought to, because you were such a good girl for him – “Yeah, such a good girl,” Oliver moaned out, as he drove his hips into you.  Wet slapping sounds rang out as he took you now, and not only was your pussy all pink and wet and throbbing, but the backs of your thighs were slowly becoming the same. 

“Ah, ah, ah!” you moaned, and as Oliver kept going, you felt yourself starting to get overwhelmed by how much cock you kept having to take and while you managed to keep your hips right where they were for Oliver’s taking, your head started to droop down slightly, while your hands grasped onto your thighs to help keep you up.

Thinking that you needed a bit of help and a bit nervous that you might fall forward, Oliver, without really thinking too much about it, suddenly grasped a fistful of your hair and gently yanked your head back up.

Surprised, a soft gasp left you, especially because at the same time, Oliver pushed his cock back into you – and, without meaning to, Oliver had guided you to arch your back for him.  Oliver’s eyes widened when he heard your gasp and he looked down, to make sure you were all right, only to see your breasts now bouncing in the air and your tummy and thighs straining because of the position he’d put you in.

Oliver let out some strangled sound that was somewhere between a whimper and a groan.  Meanwhile, you moaned and feverishly ran your hands all over your thighs and tummy, now beyond overwhelmed by how good you were being fucked by your boyfriend.  And you couldn’t help yourself but to moan out, ‘Ah, O-Oli-ver, nngh, c-cum in m-me.”

Oliver groaned and tugged harder at your hair. He said breathlessly, hoarsely – “You – You mean it?”

“Yes!” you said, close to sobbing for him now.  “Please! Mm, yes, n-need it m-my p-pussy. Oh, Gods, please…!”

Oliver’s heart was thundering in his chest, and heat and adrenaline were running through his entire body in a fierce frenzy.  He let go of your hair, but before you could slump forward, he wrapped both arms tightly around you, covering your entire upper body with his broad, strong arms, and then – “Uhn!” With a hard, deep grunt, he thrust into you with everything he had – “Ahhhh!” you gasped fervently - and then you both toppled over onto the bed, with Oliver falling on top of you.  He stayed with you, pressing his hips into you rather aggressively and pressing his cock into your pussy, every last inch of it. Your thighs and pussy spasmed as Oliver, moaning endlessly with how good you felt for him, grinded his hips into you, making you bleat out and squirm pitifully, too.  Your tummy went all taut, and your toes curled up tightly.  As well, your hands shot out in front of you, but before you could grab at your pillow for support, Oliver instinctively reached out and grasped both of your hands in his and squeezed them, and at the same time, his entire body tensed and tightened, and he was so close to release, so close. 

The next moment, Oliver drove his cock into you as deep as he possibly could into you, with a hot, heavy thrust, that made your mind spin right round. Your beautiful, desperate moans rang out loudly across the room – “ah, ah, ah…!” and then cut off with a sharp gasp as Oliver, while keeping you tucked under him entirely--with knees pushing into the back of your thighs, keeping you spread out for him; his hips pushing heavily into yours, making your hips indent the bed; his chest, so broad and muscular, covering your entire back; and his hands gripping yours so tightly you could barely feel your fingers—finally came in you, filling your pussy completely with his hot, white cum. 

“Hah… Ah…”

“Shit… Ah... B-Baby…”

You were both gasping for breath.  Oliver reached down and slid his hand under your chin. Grasping your face, and lifting you up a little, he kissed you. 

“Mmm,” you moaned hazily, feeling his warm mouth envelope yours.

Oliver was still inside of you, with his cock softening in your pussy.  Huffing against your sweet mouth, he panted out, “Are you… Are you okay?”

“Y-Yeah,” you replied, your voice all soft and blurry and sweet.

A long moment passed, where the two of you stayed like that, sharing sweet breaths and with Oliver lying on top of you. 

Finally, when you had both calmed down a little, Oliver slowly pulled out of you and then, falling over onto his side, he pulled you up so that you could rest your head on his chest. “It’s not your pillow, I know, but… stay with me for a bit.”

“Mm,” you said agreeably, nestling into his chest.

Oliver reached up and carefully slid his fingers into your soft locks.  While running his hand through your hair, Oliver watched you for a moment, taking in the fact that you were still in his jersey, which he thought suited you so well, and the little streaks of paint were still on your cheeks a bit, though a lot of it had come off.  And then, knowing that you were lying like that, so content, on top of him while you were absolutely full of his… It made Oliver feel… Well…

“Ace,” Oliver murmured. 

“Yeah?”

“Think I love you.”

Your eyes flashed open.  Your heart rate had barely started to come down, when it leapt right up again.  You lifted your head to look at him.  “What…?”

Oliver paused, surprised that you were surprised.  His brow furrowed slightly, and you saw, in his gaze, that he was completely serious about what he’d said – and also that the words had fallen from his lips as naturally as though he’d simply taken a breath.

“Was that bad to say?” Oliver said, now a bit worried.

“No.” 

“You sure? ‘Cause you’re looking at me like I’m a swamp monster.”

“No, no, I’m not.  I only, um…” You sat up, and you put your fingers on his lips. “Say it again?”

“Oh, um… Love you.” 

You traced his soft, warm mouth with your fingers as he spoke.  Oh. Oh, wow.  This is what it falls like to be loved, and to… fall in love…

It suddenly hit Oliver the weight of what he’d said.  He stayed still, so that you could continue to trace his lips, but he started to blush a bit, and he couldn’t help but follow up a bit clumsily and nervously with, “Uh, any response to that?”

Cyrille stayed by your side as you slowly fell asleep in your bed.  Still holding your hand in his, he gazed at your face.  Finally, when the moonlight crept up his feet to his knees, he softly kissed the back of your hand and then rose from the bed.  He quietly left the room, but not before pausing to look back at you once more.  Angel must be exhausted, after getting her memories back.  Sleep well, my love.  I wish I could stay, but I know already that Yaxley and the others are waiting for me.  I ran after you without a second thought when I heard what happened, and I don’t regret that one bit.  However, now, I have to head off Yaxley and the others to ensure they won’t come after you.

Cyrille walked down into the Gryffindor common room.  Ignoring the confused whispers and pointed stares, he strode straight across the room.  As he approached the door, however, he caught sight of Emmeline and James sitting at the far table.  Both of them were staring at Cyrille with intense, questioning gazes.  Cyrille’s eyes briefly met James’s, and for the smallest moment, a sliver of a smirk crossed Cyrille’s face.  His expression said – “Checkmate, Potter.”  James’s jaw tightened and he started to stand up, but Cyrille was already gone, slithering out of the door faster than a serpent.  

Cyrille had not gotten very far, however, when he heard someone running after him, panting and sprinting.  Cyrille discretely grasped his wand inside his robe.  Then, he abruptly turned around when –

“Cyrille!”  You barreled into him, catching him in a hug.

“Angel?” Cyrille said, caught off guard.  He quickly let go of his wand.

“How could you leave without saying anything?” you said breathlessly.

Cyrille steadied both of you, clutching you by your shoulders and drawing you into him, as he explained, “I thought you were sleeping.  I only just left, and you seemed to be asleep.”

“I woke up right as you were slipping out the door,” you told him.  “I called for you, but you didn’t hear me.”

“I’m sorry.” Cyrille gently smoothed back your hair, as strands of it had come tumbling forward when you ran straight into him.  That was when he noticed that you were dressed rather messily.  You were wearing a tank top, but no shirt or jacket on top, and one strap of the tank top had fallen off your shoulder.  You’d clearly tried to pull on your school skirt at the last minute; one side of the skirt was higher on your hip than the other.  Your socks were mismatched and one sock was barely on.  Moreover, your shoelaces were untied as you’d simply stuffed your feet into your shoes before taking off after Cyrille.

Cyrille sighed.  He twirled a strand of your hair around his index finger as he murmured, “Oh, angel, what a mess you are.”

“Hm?”

Cyrille pulled your shoulder strap up.  You shivered when you felt his cold fingers slip across your skin. Cyrille answered your little shiver by taking his uniform jacket and placed it on your shoulders. 

“Oh,” you realized. “It’s okay.  It’s only because I went after you in such a hurry.  Um…” You cut off as Cyrille knelt before you.  He made you step out of your shoes, and he pulled your sock on properly for you.  Wrapping his fingers softly around your ankles, he guided your feet, one after the other, into your shoes, and laced them up for you.  You stared down at him, noticing how, as he bent down, a strand of his long silver hair slipped forward to graze his cheek, catching against his sharp cheekbone.  Your eyes then naturally fell to his hands, and you admired how swiftly and gracefully his fingers moved as he tied your shoelaces. 

He takes such good care of me, you realized.  He always has.  I know that now. Your heart thumped soundly in your heart.  I want to stay with him, you thought.  No more distance between us.  As soon as Cyrille straightened up, you wrapped your arms around him and buried your face against his chest.  You prayed, to no one in particular, but with all your heart, please, no more distance. 

Cyrille held you against him tenderly, folding his arms in to tuck you into his chest.  My love, seeing you come after me and hold onto me like this, I can see that you trust me fully now.  You’re no longer holding back, and I can’t tell you how happy that makes me.  I desired your trust as much as I desired your love, but I didn’t dare to hope for it.  Unable to express in words the sudden emotions blooming within him, Cyrille instead caught your lips in a sweet, loving kiss. 

“Mm,” you breathed out a tight little sigh of relief.  Your hands slid up and you gripped the back of his shirt tightly.

I see now that I underestimated you, Cyrille thought. Of course you’d decide to get your memories back, my brave, brave girl.  He hugged you harder, lifting you a little in his arms to kiss you deeper.  And now you’ve come back to me.  His lips softly pushed yours apart – “ah,” you panted out – and then your lips slotted together, and you melted into him entirely.

Feeling you soften all over for him, with even your sweet little tongue starting to slip into the kisses, cutely swiping at his tongue to taste him, Cyrille groaned, with his mouth still pressed hotly against yours.  If I had my way, she’d never spend a second away from me, he thought rather possessively.  I’d find ways to keep this little mouth of hers busy with me all the time.  I’d kiss her like this all morning long to make her all soft for me physically, then make her take me in her mouth all day long to make her go all hazy and soft for me mentally – crying a little perhaps, with tears gathering in those beautiful eyes of hers, fuck, wouldn’t that be beautiful?  – and then, as I’m taking her as my girl, feeling her soft pussy fill up with taking my cock, I’d shove my fingers in her mouth and make her sob messily all night long, until she's completely soft all over - body, mind, and soul - for me.  Yes, if she allowed it, Angel would never have a single breath free from me ever again.  Every moment of hers, I’d fill it, I wouldn't leave a single part of her untouched, I'd claim every part of me she'd willingly show me – especially this sweet little mouth of hers at every possible moment.  

The kiss started to get quite heated as Cyrille found his mind spinning into all sorts of fantasies involving you.  You gasped out into his mouth, as he pushed you up against the hallway wall behind you, and he held you there.  You squirmed a little, but he didn’t even seem to notice – well, perhaps he did a little because he suddenly grabbed your neck and held you up tight against the wall – as he made an absolute mess out of your little mouth, kissing you hotly and pushing your mouth open hungrily with his, and then sliding his tongue into your mouth and tangling it with yours in a way that made your thighs shiver and tummy buckle –

At that moment, the sound of footsteps rang out loudly from around the corner.  You froze.  For a second, the only sounds were of the two of you panting – and the footsteps coming closer.

Cyrille cursed lowly.  Grasping your hand tightly in his, he led you to a nearby storage cupboard.  He ripped the door open, you dashed in, and he came in after you, having to duck his head to avoid hitting the top of the doorway given his height.  You reached around him and hurriedly closed the door behind him.

The two of you stood in the darkness, breathing heavily.  You could feel Cyrille’s chest pressing into yours slightly with every breath he took. 

A long moment passed – and finally, the footsteps faded away.  You slumped forward, leaning into Cyrille.  Cyrille put his arm around your waist and he kissed the top of your head.  He murmured, “You’re a bit warmer now, thankfully.”

“Well,” you murmured back, nestling into him, “you warmed me all up, kissing me like that.”

It was true.  You glanced up at Cyrille as you spoke, and he saw how flushed your cheeks were now.  He touched your face lovingly.  He wanted to smile at you, adoring how soft you looked for him now, a bit disheveled and all the lovelier for it, but he couldn’t quite manage it, because he had to tell you, “When I go back tonight…”

You said knowingly, “Yaxley and the others will be waiting for you, won’t they?” 

Cyrille said, “They’re going to question me about why I went up to find you today.  I have to – I have to – keep them from coming after you somehow.”

“Before that,” you pushed back, “you have to keep yourself out of danger.  You can’t give them an excuse to hurt you.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about - ”

“I know, but I am.”  You stared up at him with a fierce look in your eyes.  “No more wounds, no more scars, no more threats.  I can’t stand what they’ve done to you already.  If they do anything more, then it’s me who’s going to get involved in - ”

“All right, all right,” Cyrille said hastily.  “But they already suspect my feelings for you, and I’m afraid my rushing over to you tonight – not that I regret it in the slightest – but I’m certain it cemented those suspicions.”

“Lie, then,” you said shamelessly.  “Tell them you heard I was planning to release an article to the student newspaper about my heritage, about how my mother was a ‘false’ pureblood and how my father has therefore broken the sacred lineage and should no longer be counted among the Sacred Twenty-Eight - ”

“None of that’s true - ”

“It doesn’t matter,” you insisted, “as long as it keeps your safe.  I’ll forge a couple of papers, as if I did research on this and drafted a letter to the newspaper.  You can take those and say that you took them from me and made me swear not to publish anything of the sort.”

“But if it comes back to you - ”

“It won’t,” you said confidently.  “As long as it doesn’t actually get published, they won’t come after me.  Because they don’t care about me.  I’m a lost cause.  What they’re really worried about is that your loyalty might be swayed because of my bad influence.”

Cyrille considered this for a moment.  “Bad influence, huh?”

You waggled your finger playfully at him.

Cyrille couldn’t help but chuckle.  Finally, he compromised, “All right.  That’s the story I’ll tell – but no documents.  They can’t have anything tangible on you.”

“But what if it’s not enough?” you said worriedly.  “Having my actual letter would seal the - ”

“No physical documents,” Cyrille replied sternly.  “That’s giving them too much in case they decide to blackmail you later.  I don’t want them to have that option.”

It was your turn to ponder.  But seeing Cyrille’s hard gaze, you nodded, accepting this middle ground. 

Cyrille looked away from you, turning his head slightly to the side.  Your eyes had adjusted somewhat to this dark cupboard, where the only light was a soft pillar of moonlight coming down from a window near the ceiling.  The moonlight struck Cyrille’s face at a sharp angle, and your eyes followed the line tracing his jaw down to his neck…

But then, Cyrille spoke, bringing you back to reality. “I’m sure you know this already, but I may have to keep my distance until I can be sure of your safety.”  His eyes flickered back to you. The silver of his eyes seemed to glimmer slightly in sadness, as he murmured regretfully, “I can’t be seen with you for some time.”

Your mind and heart split in two, as you thought, but I want to be with him. Getting my memories back and realizing that he’s been watching over me all this time– it finally gave me permission to openly care for him.  I’ve wanted to this whole time, but I’ve held back because I was afraid that he wasn’t trustworthy, after all.  However, I can’t risk his safety.  He has to stand in front of all of those dangerous people—and not only Yaxley and the other Slytherins, we could deal with that—but Bellatrix, Rodolphus, Rabastan, and Lucius.  They could really hurt him, if they wanted. 

You murmured, a bit tiredly, “Okay, as long as it keeps you safe. That’s really all that matters.”

Cyrille didn’t reply out loud, but you felt his hands slip over your waist and he hugged you tightly.  You rested your head against him again and snuck in little kisses over his chest.  The two of you stayed together in that dim, moonlit cupboard, for a little while longer… before you finally had to separate, with you heading back to Gryffindor Tower and Cyrille to the Slytherin common room in the dungeons. 

Just as the two of you reached the opposite ends of the hallway, however, you realized that you were still wearing his jacket. You hurriedly checked that no one was around before you called out, “Cy!”

Cyrille turned around.

“Your jacket!”

A soft smile spread across Cyrille’s face.  He looked quite handsome, standing there at the end of the hallway, with that sly smirk on his face and his hands in his pockets.  “You keep it,” he replied.  “You wear it better.”  Then, he jerked his head at you, telling you to go.

You turned around and this time, you booked it all the way up to Gryffindor Tower.  There wasn’t any real reason to run, except it made it easier to tear yourself away from Cyrille.  Otherwise, you feared you might stay in that one spot and call out to him forever, just so you could look at him and hear his voice a bit longer.

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

Pausing before the entrance to the Gryffindor common room, you slipped off Cyrille’s jacket and tucked it carefully under your arm.  Once you entered the common room, you hastily made your way up to your bedroom - only to find Emmeline sitting on your bed, clearly waiting for you.  You quickly shifted the jacket so that you were holding it behind you. 

“Hi, Em,” you said, trying to sound reassuring.

“What’s going on?” Emmeline’s voice was somehow both soft and stern at the same time.  “You were sobbing your heart out, and then Lestrange, of all people, came up here.  Why?  What did that bastard do to you?”

“He didn’t do anything to me.”

Emmeline’s eyes hardened.  “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” you said quickly – too quickly. 

Emmeline stood up and came over to you.  You stepped back, pressing your back against the door to keep Cyrille’s blazer hidden from view.

Frowning at you, Emmeline asked again, “Then what’s going on?”

A wave of regret washed over you.  Em’s my best friend.  She deserves to know.  But the truth is… the wounds are too fresh.  I’ve only just gotten back my memories.  Besides, Cyrille’s secret is intertwined with mine.  I can’t tell anyone the truth of our relationship, in case someone figures out that Cyrille is merely masquerading as one of the Slytherin purebloods who believes in pureblood supremacy. 

And yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to lie to Emmeline, either.  She’d been nothing but your closest friend since you’d started at Hogwarts.  Besides, you knew that Emmeline had already seen glimpses of your involvement with Cyrille – that was why she had stolen Cyrille’s Transfiguration textbook before, after all. 

You tried to say as much as you could while still keeping Cyrille’s secret.  You confessed, “Em, I know this will be hard to hear and even harder to believe, but… the truth is that I have a crush on Cyrille Lestrange.”

Emmeline’s eyes flashed. 

Your eyes dropped to the floor. “I know it’s insane.  Trust me, I know. But I can’t help myself. I find him… Well…” Your words trailed off a bit lamely.

Emmeline repeated, deeply confused, “You like Lestrange?”

You nodded. 

“Where the hell did this come from?”

What can I say without giving too much away?  You told her, “He’s kinder than I imagined.”

Emmeline said thinly, “I don’t know what you imagined, but if it’s anything like what I imagined, that’s not much.”

“He’s gentle.  Really.  Around him, I can… I think I can find my way home again.” That was the best you could do, without lying and without giving everything away.

But Emmeline’s frown deepened.  “Find your way home? What do you mean? Why were you feeling lost - Wait, you’re not falling for Lestrange because of what happened between you and James - ?”

Suddenly, your eyes flickered up to Emmeline’s.

Emmeline quieted at once.  She stepped back a little and shook her head. “Sorry,” she murmured. “I shouldn’t have said that.  But I’m worried about you, and I don’t know how else to ask you about this.  I mean, Lestrange?”  She bit her lower lip and chewed on it for a second.  Then, she pointed out,  “I don’t even know anything about Lestrange, other than that he’s the leader of that group of Slytherins who think purebloods deserve more than others.”

“Not all of them think that,” you replied. “Do you really think I’d fall for him if they were all like that? If Lestrange were like that?”  Behind your back, you clutched the blazer tightly.  We’re getting too close to Cyrille’s secret.  Please, Em, just trust me on this one. 

“Well, no, I suppose not, but…”  Emmeline’s voice died out.  Finally, she asked point-blank, “Are you and Lestrange together?”

Oh, Em, you thought sadly.  I’m so sorry.  But this is where I have to draw the line.

“No,” you replied, “we’re not.”

Emmeline looked as though she wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or worried about your response.  All she said was, “Okay.  Well, as long as you’re all right.”

“I am. I promise.”

Emmeline nodded, though she still didn’t look convinced.  “Anyways, I’ll go ahead and take the bathroom first, then.”

“Sure, go ahead.”

Emmeline went over to her bed, where she picked up the towel and pajamas she had laid out there. She was waiting for me, you realized.  She wanted to speak with me before she went to bed tonight. 

Emmeline walked into the bathroom and closed the door behind her. You stashed Cyrille’s jacket in your closet, out of sight.  Closing the closet door, you leaned back against it and let out a sigh.  As I thought, every step towards Cyrille is a step away from Emmeline, Hestia, and Amelia, and I’m sure a step away from people like James and his friends, too.  Even if Cyrille is ultimately on the same side as me, it’s a treacherous path for us both, though especially Cyrille.   

You lay down on your bed. You put your hands out on either side of you. Your left hand landed where Cyrille had been sitting beside you tonight, watching over you as you drifted off to sleep, and your right hand landed where Emmeline had been sitting tonight, waiting for you to come back safely. 

Though, I suppose it’s as Cyrille once said, you mused.  For people like him and me, we can’t be fully on one side of the other.  We were born inheriting a certain darkness within us, and so, for us, we cannot simply live in the light.  We have to claw our way towards it, earning it with bloodied hands. People like James and Emmeline will likely never understand that.  No matter how much they might emphasize, protect, or forgive me – they still wouldn’t truly understand.  It’s not their fault, nor is it mine.  It simply is, no matter how painful that truth might be.

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

Two weeks passed, and slowly, things returned to normal – at least, so it appeared.  You were at dinner with Emmeline, Hestia, and Amelia.  The four of you had always been close friends, but ever since they were dared to kiss each other at the Yule Ball, Hestia and Amelia were dating as well.  Emmeline had been going steady with her boyfriend, Jonathan, for a long time now, of course, but they kept it cool around other people.  As you and Emmeline fast discovered, Hestia and Amelia were decidedly not the type to keep it to themselves.  One minute they were talking to you and Emmeline as usual, the next they were kissing each other furiously, looking as though they were fused together.

You and Emmeline didn’t mind at all because you both knew their personalities so well and were happy to see them together.  Sure, the two of you might subtly roll your eyes at each other if it happened to be the fifth time that day, but it was all in good fun.  It did, unfortunately, bother other people, though.  Even now, as Dirk Cresswell passed by, he scoffed loudly, “Keep it in your pants, Merlin,” to which his friend, Reginald Cattermole, replied humbly, “I s’pse they can’t help themselves.”

Hestia lifted her head (with some effort, as she had to pry her lips away from Amelia) and shouted, “It’s not that I can’t help myself, it’s that I choose to kiss my hot girlfriend!  Take that, you blue-balled twat!”

A little ways down the table, James and the rest of Marauders were sitting together.  When Hestia yelled out, “It’s not that I can’t help myself, it’s that I choose…!”, James turned around to see who was shouting and his eyes happened to meet yours.  His brow furrowed, and his gaze turned strangely intense, as if he was studying you to make sure that you were all right. You quickly reached for your glass of pumpkin juice, giving you an excuse to look down at the table.   

Emmeline chortled and pointed out wisely, “You got angry at the one who tried to defend you, and not the one who told you to keep it in your pants?” 

Hestia paused.  Then, she yelled, even more loudly (for Dirk and Reginald were further down the Great Hall now, having scampered away), “I’m not gonna keep it in my pants, either!  It’s all gonna hang loose as I like, so deal with it!” 

You suddenly spat out your pumpkin juice, for McGonagall suddenly appeared, from seemingly out of nowhere, behind Hestia.  She barked out, “Ms. Jones! What in Merlin’s name are you shouting about?”

Hestia turned pink, but to her credit, she stood her ground.  “Um, sorry you had to hear that, Professor – but not that sorry, because I’m not the one that needs to shut up.”

“Ms. Jones.”

Emmeline shook her head, though you could spot the smile she was holding back by the slight quirk of her lips.  A few seats down, the Marauders were dying of laughter at the spectacle.  Meanwhile, Amelia merely sipped her water, looking as dignified as ever. 

Hestia tried to justify herself.  “Well, y’know, Professor, you can’t let the stuck-ups say whatever they want and have them get away with it, or else they’ll keep going on and on and on and on - !”

“I quite understand,” McGonagall interjected.   

Emmeline had to fake a cough to hide her laugh. 

“Shush,” you hissed under your breath at her, “you’ll get her in trouble.”

Emmeline leaned forward and buried her face against your shoulder.

McGonagall continued sternly, “Be that as it may, you cannot make a racket in the Great Hall.  Please restrain yourself, or I will have to assign some punishment.”

“Yes, Professor,” Hestia said brightly. “I’ll yell at them faster next time, so I won't have to be as loud."

McGonagall opened her mouth to respond.  But, thinking better of it, she simply walked away. 

“Well done, standing up for our love like that.” Amelia playfully reached up and ran her finger along Hestia’s jaw.  “When I see you all fired up for us, it’s… well, I find it rather…”

“Mmpfh!” Amelia’s sentence was never finished, as Hestia grabbed her and kissed her hard on the lips.

“And there she is, letting it all hang loose,” you remarked. 

Emmeline finally laughed out loud again, as she lifted her head from your shoulder and shifted back to her seat. 

You reached over and scooped some fresh strawberries onto your plate.  As you put the first strawberry in your mouth, you found yourself thinking of what Hestia had said – it’s a choice. 

Is it…? you mused.  You thought briefly of James, but you quickly pushed him out of your mind.  A part of you wanted to go speak with him, especially because the last time the two of you talked, you'd sensed how hurt he was that you'd kept your relationship with Cyrille a secret from him, only for him to see the two of you together, all wrapped up in each other. What was more, you knew James had been genuinely concerned for your well-being, to the point that he'd pushed all of the awkwardness between you aside to come talk to you, and you also knew that James had been so confused and worried at your sudden talk about being a pureblood and your memories, when you'd never mentioned those things even once when you had been dating James. But what would I say? It's even riskier talking to James than to Emmeline because James saw more of my and Cyrille's relationship. Besides, James still reads me so easily. No, I can't go speak with him. I wish I could reassure him, the same as I wish I could Emmeline, but there's nothing I can say that wouldn't implicate Cyrille, and protecting Cyrille is the most important thing to me right now. Yes, Cyrille... You slowly peeked over your shoulder, back at the Slytherin table. You scanned the long benches down the row until… You let out a breath.  Cyrille Lestrange. 

Did I choose to love him? you mused vaguely.  And then, your heart swelled with both pain and pride as you realized, Yes, in a way I did, when I chose to get my memories back.  But how far will that choice go?  How far can it go?  We can’t even be together now, at Hogwarts, in case one of us gets hurt.

You squinted a little, trying to catch any subtle signs that Cyrille wasn’t feeling well.  Thankfully, he seems to be all right, at least from what I can tell.  A bit subdued, certainly, but not as tense as I’ve usually seen him after he’s had a difficult time with Bellatrix or the like.

You meant to look away after your quick assessment, but at that moment, Cyrille turned his head to speak to Regulus Black.  You watched as the candlelight danced on Cyrille's silver hair, flashing gently between light and shadow.  He reached out to pick up his glass, and you noticed how his long fingers wrapped around the stem of his glass and how he brought it to his pale, almost bloodless, thin lips.  Then, he swallowed. Without realizing it, you swallowed along with him, even though your strawberry was still caught between your lips.  Just then, Alecto Carrow leaned forward and made a remark.  His sister, Amycus, Yaxley, and a few other Slytherins at the table burst into crude laughter.  The next moment, Cyrille put his glass down. It was a simple move, and yet, everyone quieted at once.  Cyrille kept his gaze on his glass, but somehow, it was as though his entire appearance and energy shifted to a far darker demeanor, one that warned those around him not to cross the line.

You shivered.  His energy flickers so quickly.  In a way, it’s frightening.  But in another way, perhaps because I trust him completely, I find it so very… I don’t know how to say it, exactly, but I feel like it's human instinct to want to grasp at what is transient, to understand that which is ephemeral, and to decipher what appears indecipherable. Even if it’s riskier, or even dangerous, it’s something I want to explore.  And even moreso because it’s Cyrille. As I told him before, I would sink down willingly – with him, and for him.

Emmeline’s voice jolted you back to reality.  “Uh, are you gonna eat that or what?”

Huh? You looked up at her with wide eyes.

Emmeline giggled at your expression.  “Here, I’ll help you.”  She reached out with one finger and pushed the rest of the strawberry into your mouth.  Then, smiling at all of you, she got up from the table, slinging her bookbag over her shoulder.  “I’ve going to go find Jonathan.  I’ll see you all later, okay?”

“Sure,” you said.  “Bye, Em.”

Hestia and Amelia waved Emily off, and then they took off, too, heading to the library.   “We’re going,” Hestia said.  You nodded, and then Hestia paused to clarify to you, “to study.”  Amelia smirked from beside her, and you knew there would be absolutely no studying done between them that evening.  Laughing, you shooed them off.

At the table by yourself now, you pulled out your weekly planner to check what homework you had to do tonight.  As you did, you bit into another strawberry.  Right, Potions essay on Amortentia. It’s not due until next week, but it’ll be a tricky one. Best to start on it a bit early… Your eyes slowly slipped away from the planner, and before you knew it, you were looking over your shoulder again. 

This time, Cyrille was reaching up and adjusting his tie.  It was such a small, normal action, and yet – You breathed out softly.  Mm… All of a sudden, silver eyes flashed across the room and met yours.  You blinked.  Oh, shit.  I didn’t realize I was staring like that.  You hastily put your head down and ate your second strawberry.  As you chewed, you berated yourself.  Get it together.  Of course, it’s been overwhelming to realize, now that I have my memories restored, how Cyrille was watching over me, loving me in secret, this whole time.  And of course it makes me want to run to him and love him right back. 

But I can’t right now, you reminded yourself firmly.  Cyrille has his part to play in whatever chaos is waiting for us outside of Hogwarts. That means he has to keep his disguise up here, within these castle walls, too.  It’s like he said – we can’t be seen together.  And in truth, given the path I’ve chosen and the path he’s chosen and how different they are, we might not even be able to be together after Hogwarts.  I have to come to terms with that reality, and act accordingly.  Having finished your strawberry, you fell forward onto the table, resting your cheek on the weekly planner pages. 

But that’s precisely why this is so difficult, you finally recognized.  Even though we’ve only just come together again , I might have to let him go again soon, very soon.  You shut your eyes tightly. That’s why, despite everything, I want to be with him now.  The past is already gone, and the future is so uncertain.  Your young, naïve heart pleaded, So, can’t it be that while we’re here, in the sanctuary of school, let ourselves be in love again, at least a little? The way we were when we first met, the way we would have been all this time if only I’d remembered it all… Oh, Cy, I’m sorry for all the time I took from us.  I’m sorry, too, that I ever doubted you.  And now I’m scared that it’s me who won’t be able to love you fully.  I’m terrified that it’s my turn to have to watch you from afar.

You opened your eyes, though you kept your head down.  I want to be with him.  I want to love him, and I want… I want to feel loved by him.  Is that such a terrible desire for me to have? Is it really that greedy? That unacceptable? A soft breath fluttered out of your mouth, making the corner of the planner page also flutter.  I want to kiss him, and I want to be kissed by him.  And I want his hands on me, oh yes, please, I want his hands all over me, tracing my cheeks, my lips, my jaw, until maybe they land on my throat and give it a little squeeze… And I want – I want – I – You suddenly sat up, confused as you felt a soft, barely-there warmth starting to pool fuzzily between your thighs.  Oh Godric… You brought your hands up and buried your face in them, as an irrepressible blush spread over your cheeks.  What is wrong with me?  Imagining Cyrille during dinner in the Great Hall!  Springing up, you grabbed your bookbag and planner and hurried out of the Great Hall, going as fast as you possibly could without breaking into a jog.  I’m worse than Hestia and Amelia – way, way worse. 

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

The castle was never completely quiet, but you’d long since grown accustomed to the nightly noises here.  However, tonight, the quiet hum of the late night in the Gryffindor dormitory room seemed louder than usual, and you couldn’t seem to fall asleep.  Besides, every time you closed your eyes, a pair of silver eyes flashed open in your mind’s eye, haunting you such that you felt restless.  

You heard Emmeline’s blankets rustle as she turned over in her bed.  You looked over and watched her sleeping peacefully for a moment.  With a quiet sigh, you tossed your covers off and slipped out of bed.  Pulling on your sneakers and your favorite oversized cardigan (with one pocket still all lopsided from when Remus had put too many jam jars in it), you made your way out of the room. 

You didn’t quite have a plan in mind, but anything was better than staying in bed and trying to fall asleep when your mind was resisting sleep.  Maybe I’ll sneak down to the kitchens for a spot of tea, you thought.  However, when you came down to the common room, you realized that you were not the only one up at this hour. 

Four boys were gathered before the fireplace, whispering excitedly.  For a moment, you watched all of their different bedheads clashing against one another.  Of course, even amongst this group of messy hair, someone’s hair stood out as the messiest, someone with jet black, messy hair that stuck up in the back…

“Yeah, yeah, and then we can—Merlin’s beard!”  Peter noticed you standing silently at the bottom of the staircase, quietly observing them like a ghost.  He clutched at his chest and blanched.  “I – I thought – No, actually, I don’t even know what I thought.  But you startled me!  Why are you standing there so quietly?  I mean, say ‘hi’ or something!  Announce yourself!”

“Worm, calm down.” Remus shot Peter a soft smile, amused at how much his friend was panicking. 

“She does look kind-of gloomy, though,” Sirius remarked, looking over at you.  “Almost sickly.”

“Sirius, I can hear you,” you sighed.

“Oops, guess it’s not really a ghost,” Sirius fired back, smirking at you now.

You shook your head at him.  Then, looking over at Remus, you considered your options.  Well, I suppose it is a bit of a risk, but… You walked over to the boys and stood in front of Remus.

Since all four boys were kneeling on the rug, poring over some strange-looking map together, Remus had to crane his head back to look up at you.  He swallowed slightly as he found you staring down at him.  “Um, yes…?  Can I help you?”

“Do you know who’s on prefect patrol tonight?”

“Uh, yeah, the Slytherin and Ravenclaw prefects…”

“Okay,” you said softly, “thanks.”  With that, you turned away.

You didn’t look back as you walked over to the door, but somehow, you could feel someone’s gaze lingering on your back.  Your heart tightened a little  - Only then, you heard Peter whisper, “Hey, isn’t that her cardigan that you ruined?”

“What?”

“Yeah, look at the pocket, it’s gone all wonky!  From when Prongs sent you over to do some recon on her - ”

“Worm, will you shut up?” 

As you slipped out the door, Peter and James got into a scuffle. 

“What?  I’m only saying what happen – Ow!  Don’t thump my shoes, Prongs! You know I have weak ankles!”

"Weak ankles, my ass!"

"It's true! Madam Pomfrey - Madam Pomfrey said so - aargh!"

“Then shut your yapper, Worm, for Merlin’s sake - ”

“- Only my granny says ‘yapper’” anymore - ”

Meanwhile, Sirius and Remus were having their own conversation.

“She still wears that thing? Even though it looks like that?”

Remus said, a bit meekly, “I did offer to fix it for her.”  He paused to swipe the map off of the floor right before James and Peter started rolling around on the carpet.  Still feeling guilty, Remus clarified, “Free of charge, of course.”

Sirius snorted.  “Of course it’s free of charge, you idiot.  If you did that to her and then you made money off of her, that’d make you a goddamn swindler, Moony.”

The conversations got all mixed up and the next second, James was yelling at Peter, “Did you just call my granny a swindler?”

“No!” Peter protested, but it was too late. He cried out as James toppled him over onto the carpet for another round of vague tussling. A moment later, Peter's shoe flew through the air, as James finally managed to yank it off of his foot.

By now, you were far away from the warm fires of the Gryffindor common room.  You were shivering slightly from the cold, but you kept going, focused on finding the owner of those haunting silvery eyes that wouldn’t let you sleep tonight. 

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

As you neared the Slytherin common room, you found yourself getting nervous.  This is a really terrible idea.  Turn back.  You can still turn back. 

You went a few more steps forward, but then your feet stuttered to a stop.  Oh Merlin, what am I doing?  I can’t do this.  It’ll put Cyrille at risk, and nothing is worth that.  Your hands slowly curled up into fists.  We can’t be seen together.  That’s what we decided. 

Turning around, you trudged your way back up to Gryffindor Tower.  By the time you got back, even the Marauders had gone to bed.  You sat in front of the fireplace, watching the wisps of smoke curl up into the air.  The way the smoke curls up into itself, it reminds of the shape of Cyrille’s serpent tattoo, the one on his back… You sighed and fell back on the couch, pressing your fingers against your eyelids.  Why does everything lately remind me of him?

A strange, shallow sort-of hurt rose up in your heart. I thought I'd be stronger once I got my memories back. But the opposite's happened. I feel more fragile than ever. About my identity. About my own courage. About how much I need Cyrille by my side. It's all... so much. Too much.

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

Another two weeks passed.  You were starting to develop permanent dark circles under your eyes.  Besides, you swore you were getting a crick in your neck from trying to steal one too many looks at Cyrille during classes and meals.  Meanwhile, Cyrille was, as ever, the master of playing it cool.  Throughout this whole month, he never glanced at you once, in comparison to the hundreds of looks you must’ve thrown his way.

It would all be fine, really it would, if only you could control your own imagination enough to stop fantasizing about him.  That was the part that really drove you mad.  It was those late nights where you swore you could actually feel his strong, if not a bit cold, hands running up and down your sides and then pushing your sweet thighs apart, making you spread your legs for him.  He always knew just how to handle you. A jolt of anticipation would run through you and you would start to get so, so wet.  You’d shift your hips, eager to take him.  You swore he was looking down at you, and while, even in your dream, his eyes remained impossible to read, you would be able to catch, momentarily, that light that hinted at his desire for you.  And by Godric, you’d give all of yourself to him, if only he would finally enter you and give you that rough, fervent pounding you were positively aching for.  You’d swallow hard as you waited, heart bursting with impatience, to feel him start to bully his cock inside of you… Only, it never came. 

Eyes flashing open, you found yourself sweating and all wet between your thighs, but completely alone in bed.  Thankfully, you were quiet throughout all this, other than tossing or turning once or twice in bed, so it didn’t wake up Emmeline. However, you couldn’t get back to sleep after such a dream, and these dreams visited you frequently now.

Still, morning would come, and despite feeling exhausted from lack of sleep, reason would find you with the morning light and help you sort out your thoughts.  You’re going to risk it all just because you feel a little frisky?  Pft, don’t be ridiculous.  You took a shower and got dressed. By then, you were back to feeling like yourself, minus the tiredness.  But come night again, when your mind was too spent to hold onto reason quite as tightly, you’d lapse back into that world of sensations, of falling, of sinking, where pleasure and darkness mixed together in a sinfully sweet manner, and Cyrille was waiting for you there once more. And, despite your best efforts to restrain yourself, you'd doubtlessly find yourself reaching for him in your dreams, and pleading with him, "Please, come drown me. Come sink with me, Cy, my love..."

Fuck, you groaned to yourself as you woke up yet again with your panties soaked and panting hard into your pillow.  Even worse, you’d dreamt of Cyrille kissing you right as he’d whispered in your ear about how he was going to make your tight little pussy take his hard, thick cock as deep as you could possibly take it—and you’d bruised your own lip by accidentally biting on it.

Of all the idiots…! you chided yourself, as you saw your reflection in the mirror that morning.  Seriously, what the hell is wrong with me?  Pull it together.  Frustrated, you slapped water on your face.

Despite everything, though, you were ultimately keeping your distance from Cyrille, not exchanging a single word with him during this time and only ever glancing at him from a distance to make sure that he appeared healthy and safe.  You slowly gained confidence that you were going to be able to control your desires and maintain your distance – until the Potions incident happened.

This past month, Slughorn had been teaching the class about Potions that induced illusions of infatuation or obsession.  Some of these Potions caused drowsiness that made it hard to think clearly until the obsession was cleared, while others caused a sharp focus on only that person, thing, or goal until some action was taken to satisfy that need.  Today, Slughorn was giving his final lesson on this topic and, as a practical guide, he had brewed Amortentia, which he presented before the class.  You happened to be standing nearest to the cauldron when Slughorn unveiled it.  All of a sudden, Cyrille’s scent hit you so hard that you swore you were with him in bed, with your nose buried against the sweet hollow between his shoulder and neck.  Your hand whipped to your nose and you sputtered out a cough as you covered your nose as quickly as you could.  Surprised, Slughorn chortled and bellowed heartily, “First time I’ve ever seen a negative reaction.  Perhaps we’ve finally found someone immune to Amortentia!”  The class twittered, as everyone picked up on the fact that you had cupped your hand over your nose and mouth.

“What?  Does your crush not shower?” someone yelled out jokingly – and the class burst into laughter.

You dropped your hand away from your nose and you rolled your eyes at the class, trying to play it off. 

However, once class ended and lunch break began, you raced up to your room and, pulling Cyrille’s jacket (which you still had from when he’d draped it around your shoulders last time) out of your closet, you buried your face in it.  Toppling over onto your bed, you rubbed your pussy furiously and then fucked yourself hard with your fingers, filling your pussy as much as you could with your own fingers, imagining that it was Cyrille doing this for you, though you knew you could never copy how wonderfully he touched you.  Still, you came within minutes.  Hair plastered to your forehead with sweat and huffing heavily, you bleated out pitifully, “Cy…” as you clutched onto the jacket.  I’ve lost it, you thought to yourself.  I’ve lost it entirely. 

Just then, you heard footsteps coming up the stairs.  You hurriedly got up and ran into the bathroom right as Emmeline came in. 

Hearing the door close, Emmeline called your name.

“Here!  In the bathroom,” you called back, trying to hide the fact that you were out-of-breath.

“Want to head down to lunch together?”

“Mhm!” you replied, while you hurriedly splashed water on your face. “Sounds good!  Just give me a moment, and I’ll be ready.”  You clutched the sides of the basin and stared at the water swirling down the sink.  This is unbearable, you realized.  I thought I was managing it, and I know how silly I’m being, but I’m barely hanging on here.  Cy, I need you… Don’t you need me?  It’s not that I want you to slip up or risk anything, but… Why don’t you ever look at me? Not even once… Don’t you ever dream of me, too?

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

At the Great Hall entrance, you and Emmeline waited for a group of Slytherin girls to enter before you.  You recognized Selene Selwyn among them.   Your gaze landed on her.  The same Slytherin jacket as Cyrille’s.  Well, obviously.  Hm…  An altogether foolish idea began to brew in your mind.

As soon as you and Emmeline sat down with Hestia and Amelia, you turned to Amelia.  “You’re good at Human Transfiguration, aren’t you?”

Amelia answered in her trademark, measured tone, “Only the witches and witches most accomplished in Transfiguration are comfortable with Human Transfiguration - ”

“Yes, but you were one of the only ones who could do it in class, remember?”

“I mean, yes, simple stuff: hair color, eyebrow shape - ”

“Perfect!” you said excitedly.  “Could you help me out, then?  Just to tweak a few things - ”

Amelia gave you a confused smile. “If you want a free haircut, you’ve got the wrong woman.”

“No, it’s nothing like that,” you replied.  “I just wasn’t able to cast any of those spells successfully that day in class and I’ve been practicing, but it isn’t clicking.  I reckon if I can see you do it on me, it might help me figure it out.”

Hestia and Emmeline gave you highly skeptical expressions, but they remained silent.  Amelia shrugged and said coolly,  “All right, I’ll do what I can.”

“Thanks." You beamed at her. “This will be great.  Really.  Yeah.  Really, really great.”

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

After lunch, you had Charms class with the Slytherins.  You risked sitting closer to Cyrille than usual, taking the seat in the row right behind him and one seat down to the right.  You angled yourself so you could look at Cyrille while appearing to pay attention. 

You wondered if Cyrille might spare you a quick glance now, but he still didn’t seem to notice you.  On the other hand, it was hard to tell for certain, as his silver hair cascaded down his shoulder, hiding his face from you.

Everything about him is always so elusive, you thought.  Remembering my past means I can fully trust him, but it hasn’t helped me one bit in reading him in the present.  I suppose he will always remain a mystery to me in that sense, my serpent prince… But that’s all right.  I wouldn’t mind spending my time trying to decipher him – his moods, his thoughts, his heart… No, I don’t suppose I’d mind that at all.

Just then, McGonagall called your name.  You jolted, surprised.  “Um… What was that, Professor?”

McGonagall looked at you beadily. “This is the basis for the exceptions of what law?”

“Right, uh, that would be…” You took a wild guess.  “Gamp’s?”

There was a pause.  Judging from the surprised looks on everyone’s faces, you were either correct or wildly wrong.

“Well,” McGonagall said thinly, “you had a one in five chance of picking the right name and you picked correctly, so I suppose I will award Gryffindor five House Points for sheer dumb luck.  But pay attention now.  I mean it.  I’ll be asking you a question you can’t merely guess at next.”

“Yes, Professor,” you said meekly.  You started to put your head down in shame—and at that moment, you swore you heard a soft chuckle, disguised as a cough, coming from Cyrille.  You glanced over at him hopefully.  He still wasn’t looking at you and was instead dutifully reading his textbook – or so it appeared.  As he turned a page, his hair fluttered softly, and for a moment, you caught sight of his lips, and you realized that he was smirking ever so slightly.  You smiled. That moment, for you, sealed your resolve for your scheme tonight. 

Clunk. Someone behind you kicked the leg of your chair.  You looked over your shoulder to see Emmeline lifting her eyebrow at you.  You blushed and looked back down at your textbook.  I guess I wasn’t as discrete as I thought.  That, or… You thought wryly to yourself, as you felt Emmeline’s stare bore into the back of your head, my best friend is eagle-eyed and really protective over me…

At the end of class, Emmeline got up quickly. 

“Em - ?”

When she walked right past you, you hesitated, confused.  Then, your eyes widened as you saw her screech to a stop right before Cyrille.

Emmeline tossed out coolly, “Lestrange.”

Cyrille slowly looked up at her.  He chose not to respond for a long, stretched-out moment. 

Then, just as Emmeline started to get irritated and speak again, Cyrille cut her off. In a calm, quiet voice, he said, “Yes?  How can I help you – Who are you again?” 

“It’s Vance,” Emmeline snapped.

Cyrille smirked softly.  He’d successfully torn away Emmeline’s attempt at playing it cool with one, simple tactic of controlling the silence.  He stood up, then, and he was suddenly towering over her.  Staring down at her, he repeated in the same, quiet tone, “How can I help you, Vance?”

Emmeline stared back at him resolutely, not deterred by him at all – or at least, she was doing an excellent job of hiding it if she was.  It would have worked on anyone—or rather, anyone other than Cyrille.

By now, you’d grabbed your bookbag and ran over to them both.  Cyrille barely, almost imperceptibly, flinched, but he managed to keep from looking at you and instead continued to stare down Emmeline.

“Em!” you called breathlessly.  “What are you doing?” You grabbed her arm and started to tug her away at once, while continuing to babble, “We should head down to - !”

Emmeline grabbed your arm back, stopping you.  Holding you in place, she looked Cyrille up and down once and then asked, “On a scale of one to ten, how much of an asshole would you say you are?  And be careful with your answer.  If it’s anything over two, I’ll have to blow your head off.”

Students around the three of you began to twitter.  But all Cyrille did was murmur, in a rather amused voice, “Did you practice that one in the mirror, Vance?”

Ignoring his condescending tone, Emmeline continued, “Oh, but if it’s less than two, I’ll assume you have no humility and also have to blow your head off.” 

Cyrille said wryly, “That doesn’t leave me much of a choice, does it?”

Emmeline’s eyes narrowed as she retorted impressively, “No, it really doesn’t, you know.”  She glanced down at her hand, and all three of you saw that she had her wand out.

“Em!”  You managed to yank your arm out of her grasp and this time, you grabbed her hand, clasping your palm tightly over hers to sandwich her wand between your hands.  You yanked her right out of the room, muttering furiously to her, “Merlin, this is so unnecessary!”

You didn’t let go of Emmeline until you were both far down the hallway.  You grumbled the whole way, saying, “What’s gotten into you?  Are you sick?  Or have you joined a gang in your spare time, to come up with a line like that?  For Godric’s sake!  I could have died from secondhand embarrassment, watching the two of you in that strange-as-all-hell stand-off.  And anyways, what in the world made you go after him like that in the first place?”

Emmeline hadn’t said anything this whole time, but finally, she said, “Because.”

You stopped and turned to her, letting go of her at last.  “Because what?”

After stowing her wand away in her robe, Emmeline crossed her arms over her chest.  “Listen, two things are obvious to me here,” she stated firmly. “First, it’s obvious to me that you don’t want me to pry about whatever is going on with you and Lestrange.”  You started to speak, but Emmeline held up her hand to stop you.  She continued, “Fine, I’ll leave it be, even though it bothers me, since I’m supposed to be your best friend - ”

“You – You are, of course you are,” you said, suddenly feeling ashamed of yourself.

“Second, it’s obvious to me that this isn’t just some simple crush.”

“What?” You stared at her with a furrowed brow.  How does she know that?

“I’ve caught you staring at him for a while now.  That’s why I took his Transfiguration book from him, remember?”

“That was ages ago,” you said, trying to distract her.

But Emmeline was not easily distracted.  “It’s more than that.  That day when Yaxley caught us going into the Great Hall and stopped us to tell you that Lestrange was betrothed to Selwyn…”

“That – That was nothing.”

“And the way you looked when you told me you liked him. You said it was a crush, but it's more than that.” She looked at you knowingly. “You really like Lestrange.” 

Rather hoarsely, you mumbled, “Um…”

“I don’t need to hear you say it or justify it to me.  It just is.  I can tell.”

“How can you just ‘tell’ with these things…?” you began, but you sighed and gave up, falling silent instead.  She’s right, on all accounts.  Merlin, she knows me really well.  And she notices what I notice.  She’s really such an amazing friend.

Emmeline continued, “And Lestrange isn’t exactly staying away from you, is he?”

You tried to let your anxiety or confusion show at these words, but you thought, What do you mean?  That’s exactly what he’s doing.

Emmeline recalled, “That handprint I saw on you…”

You flushed.  Oh…

“And the way he ran up to you the other night.  I mean, Lestrange running through the Gryffindor common room like that shocked everyone.” 

You remained silent, still trying to control your expression. 

Emmeline sighed.  “But like I said, you don’t want to talk about it with me.  So, the only option is for me to go to him, right?  I can’t pressure you, and I can’t tell you not to care about him.  So, all I can do is make sure he cares about you – or cares about his safety enough to care about you.”  She shrugged.  “That’s all there is to it.”

You stared at Emmeline, as a wave of realization crashed over you.  Oh, I get it. This is your way of protecting me.  You hugged Emmeline quite suddenly.  I wish I could tell you everything.  You’d know then that you don’t have to worry about him hurting me, ever. 

You said to her, “All right.  I understand, I do.  Thank you.”

Emmeline sighed.  “If you really mean that, will you tell me about all this someday?  I really hate being kept in the dark, you know.”

“Yeah, I will someday,” you replied. “I promise.”  It was a heavier promise than Emmeline knew, but it was the least you could do.

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

Your last class that day was Herbology, down at the greenhouses.  After class, you pretended to have to double back to grab your textbook.  In fact, you ran over to the Quidditch shed (which you were quite familiar with given how many times you’d been in there with James).  Opening the cabinet housing all of emergency clothing, you stuffed an extra Slytherin skirt into your bookbag. 

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

That evening, Amelia helped to transform some of your features.  She first turned your unruly curls into a sleek, blonde mane.  Once your hair was straightened, it fell to your waist.  She made your eyebrows match in color.  Then, she performed a tricky bit of magic that slightly changed the shape of your cheeks and the space between your forehead.  She even tried to change your eye color, but that proved to be too complex, even for Amelia, so your eye color ended up a somewhat strange, muddy hazel-brown instead of the green you were originally going for. 

It doesn’t matter, you thought, as long as I can blend in with the other Slytherins and I don’t look too much like myself. 

“You want a beard, too?” Amelia lifted her wand again. “I know I can do that.”

“No thanks,” you said hastily.

Amelia shook her head.  “This is so strange.  I don’t even feel like I’m talking to you.”

Oh, perfect, you thought.  “Well, thanks.  This was really helpful.”

“And you know how to undo it all, right? It's just a single, simple Vanishing spell. But if you need me to teach it to you, I can.”

"I know it. Thanks."

“Okay, well, I’m off,” Amelia said.  “Call me when you want that beard.”

You laughed.  “All right, then, I owe you one.”

Amelia left, as Hestia was waiting for her.  Emmeline was already gone; she was out with Jonathan tonight.  It’s like the stars have aligned, you thought to yourself, feeling giddy now. 

You pulled on the Slytherin skirt and Cyrille’s jacket.  There, a Slytherin student disguise.  You stood in front of the mirror, both fascinated and unsettled by what you were seeing.  All right.  Here goes nothing.  Only remember, any risk of being recognized, especially by Yaxley or any of his group – and you’re out.  It’s not worth risking Cyrille’s safety for this. 

You draped your cloak around yourself and grabbed your Transfiguration textbook off your desk.  As you stepped out of your room, McGonagall’s words rang out in your mind: “Sheer dumb luck.”

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

After leaving your cloak stashed in the same storage cupboard that you and Cyrille had hidden in before, you headed for the Great Hall. From there, you tailed a group of Slytherin second years back to their common room.  You thought nervously, I hope Cyrille is in the common room.  If not, I don’t have much time to look around. 

Keeping your head down, you swept your gaze over the room.  Your heart sank when you realized Cyrille wasn’t there.  You backed away into a far corner and quietly took up residence on a solitary chair.  Hiding your face behind your long hair, you pretended to read your textbook. 

The minutes ticked by.  You started to get a bit antsy, as you noticed a few of the older students look at you confusedly, for you seemed to be their year and yet they couldn’t recognize you.

That’s it.  With a sigh, you closed the book and got up from the chair.  You strode towards the entrance as quickly as you could.  You kept your head down the entire time and therefore, you didn’t realize that a group of people were coming through the doorway just then –

“Oof!”  You ran smack into someone’s chest.  Your textbook fell out of your hand and onto the floor.

“Apologies.” 

As soon as that sleek, silvery voice hit your ears, you looked up in amazement.  You hardly dared to hope, and yet, sure enough, your gaze fell onto the one person you wanted to see most. 

Cyrille glanced down disinterestedly at you.  However, he paused in puzzlement when he realized he didn’t know who you were, despite your Slytherin student uniform.  And then, his brow creased in utter confusion, even wariness, when he noticed that your blazer was far too big for you.  Finally, he saw the way your eyes lit up upon seeing him.

No, Cyrille thought, as he inhaled sharply.  I’ve gone insane.  I’m certain I’ve gone mad. 

“Lestrange, get out of the fucking way,” Yaxley muttered behind him.  “We’re trying to get in.”

Cyrille stepped aside, and six other Slytherins came into the common room.  None of them shot you a second look, thankfully.  You quickly stepped aside as well, hiding a bit behind Cyrille as the other Slytherins came in.  As you stepped away, your foot nudged against the textbook you’d dropped.  You started to bend down, to pick it up, only Cyrille beat you to it.  Kneeling down, he picked up the book and started to hand it back to you when he noticed the title - Transfiguration… Still kneeling, he paused.  It can’t be, he thought to himself. She wouldn’t. 

You put your hand out and Cyrille saw that you were wearing a silver chain bracelet, looped around your wrist several times.  Then, you discretely turned your hand over and Cyrille saw, nestled in your palm, his family crest in the raven pendant, which he had given to you to wear for the Yule Ball.  That’s my necklace, he realized, wrapped around her wrist.

Cyrille’s mind went completely blank.  And then—the nail in the coffin—Cyrille heard you whisper, in your lovely, sweet voice, “Thank you very much.”

Astonished, Cyrille jerked his head up to see your face again.  He literally felt as if you’d punched all the air out of his chest as he saw your lips form the words, “Long time, no…Cy?”

Cyrille would have thought your play on words was cute - if he wasn't too busy thinking that you were absolutely crazy. Heart pounding furiously against his chest, he quickly looked to see where his fellow Slytherins had gone.  They were all disappearing up the staircase, heading to their rooms.  Trying very hard to sound completely calm, he said to you, “If you would follow me, please.” 

You didn’t dare speak as Cyrille led you out of the common room and down the long hallway.  After a few minutes of hasty walking, he stopped and abruptly pulled away a hanging tapestry to reveal a secret door.  He yanked the door open, and you stepped inside of it.  He followed you and, once inside, he pulled out his wand and tapped it twice on the doorknob, muttering in quick succession, “Collorportus.  Muffliato.”

The dungeons were below the surface water level of the Great Lake and as this room faced the Great Lake and had one wall comprised entirely of glass, it gave a spectacular view of the underwater world of the Great Lake. Since it was late into the evening, the water was a dark, muddy green, and the light barely filtered through.  As the long seaweed swayed in the current, the silhouettes in the room swayed too, like trees in the wind or synchronized dancers clothed in dark silk.

For a moment, you stood in awe at the sight. You’d always loved being underwater.  You often went down to the Great Lake for a swim when the weather was warm enough.  But it wasn’t really that you enjoyed swimming – rather, you simply liked to float in the water, suspended in a space that took your weight away for you, even if it came at the cost of also taking away your breath…

“Angel, what on earth are you thinking? And why do you look like that?”

“It takes my breath away,” you murmured, still entranced with the play of light and shadows dancing all across this strange room.

Cyrille paused, confused.   “What?”

“Being in this room.  Being underwater like this.”  You turned back to look at Cyrille.  “You as well, Lestrange.  You take my breath away, too.”  You reached your hand out to him, even though he was standing too far away for you to touch.  The necklace was still wrapped around your wrist, and the Lestrange crest pendant dangled below your wrist. “I’m so glad to see you’re not hurt.  At least, I think you’re not hurt.  Tell me if I’m wrong.  Tell me everything that’s happened to you since we’ve started pretending to be strangers again - ” Your voice caught, and you fell silent.

“Are you hurt?” Cyrille asked you urgently.  “Or has something with your memories - ?”

“No,” you said quickly.  “It’s nothing like that.”

“Then…?”

You were quiet for a beat.  Then, you repeated, “Then…" and finished in a soft, wanting voice, "I suppose I’m here… by choice.”

You paused. Why did I sound so sad there? I meant to sound strong, affirmative. I meant to sound like I came because I was strong enough to take the risk, but it just sounded like... I need him. You opened your mouth, trying to think of what to say to make it better, but... You slowly bit down on your lower lip, remaining silent, shamefully silent.

For a moment, that long, haunting silence stretched out between you.  Cyrille didn’t react to you at all, only gazed at you, despite the fact that you were stretching your hand out to him so far that your fingers were trembling. 

Always masterful at appearing detached (and therefore in control), Cyrille appeared so now. But in truth, as he stared at you, Cyrille was remembering that day he’d run into you under the willow tree by the Great Lake.  You’d left behind your Transfiguration textbook in class, so Cyrille followed you to return your book to you.  It had taken him some time, as he’d had to slip away from his Slytherin classmates and then locate you, but he’d managed.  Only, while Cyrille found your book bag under the tree, he couldn't seem to find you.  He slipped your textbook in your bag, and then, he waited, nervous about whether something had happened to you.  And then – Splash!  You burst out of the Great Lake, gasping for breath, with lake water streaming down your entire body.  Your eyes flashed open, glimmering brightly in the daylight and so full of life… Cyrille's heart thrummed furiously in his chest. Only, you’d taken your book bag and left at once, clearly wanting nothing to do with him.  And Cyrille had held back, watching you go silently.  What did you expect? he’d told himself harshly.  You fool. She’s with Potter now.  And even if she wasn’t, she doesn’t even remember you.  And she's happier that way. So, leave it be.  He’d slumped down against the tree for a moment, and then, unable to help himself, he slowly walked over to the edge of the lake and stretching his hand out, he let his fingers just graze over the water, barely touching it… She was… so beautiful.  It’s so cruel that she doesn’t remember me, and yet, she’s as beautiful as ever. 

That night, Cyrille found himself dreaming of how he might meet you again in that very moment, right as you came out of the water, and how, if you agreed to it, he’d whisk you away, so that you’d find yourself underneath him, still wet, in his bed.  He’d rip your soaked clothes off of you and then touch your slick, shapely body all over, until his hands had memorized you completely.  And then he’d waste no time at all in taking you, thrusting his cock deep inside you, making the water droplets still clinging to your thighs fly off, as he gave himself to you in the only way he knew how - this sinful, carnal way, but he'd do his best for you, yes, he would. You’d gasp for him, the same way you’d gasped coming out of the water... Now, Cyrille swallowed thickly as he realized, Here’s Angel, standing before me. Remembering me. Asking for me. And she’s even more beautiful now, somehow.

Of course, you didn’t have a clue what Cyrille was thinking about.  But you, too, took this moment to gaze at him and watch the strange, underwater light play across his cold, beautiful face.  Standing at a distance from him, he seems almost inhuman.  As if he were a siren. You shivered a little as your mind whispered warningly to you, don’t you see?  Cyrille Lestrange is always masquerading before you – serpent, devil, guardian angel, and now, siren.  He can’t help it.  It’s not in his nature to be comprehended as human.  No, the last thing he is, the last thing he can be – is a man.

Still, you tried again.  If I can't read him, I'll try to reach him. “Cyrille,” you whispered in a tight, almost scared voice, “you are okay, aren’t you?”  You finally brought your hands together and clutched the raven pendant tightly in your hands.  “I stayed away from you, as you asked, to keep you safe.  I hope it worked.  Because I’ve been slowly losing my mind by myself, worrying about you, missing you – Oh Godric, I know how stupid it is to come find you like this, I do, I swear, but I miss you, even if you didn’t miss me - ”

Cyrille, who was still standing at the door, suddenly crossed the distance between you in hurried steps. The next second, his lips crashed into yours, and all at once, you were able to breathe again.  But it was only for a sliver of a second, because Cyrille kissed you so hungrily that he pushed the breath right back out of you.  You stumbled backwards. Cyrille followed you, not letting you part one inch from him.  You sensed in him a strong, furious intention to devour you.  Something in you sparked alive, responding to his intense energy, and you trembled.

Cyrille drew away from you, panting as he did.  Your eyes flashed open in surprise as you felt him leave you.  The intense, thrumming energy disappeared as quickly as you came.  And you needed it back.  You panted, “Is – Is something wrong?”

“You tell me.”  Cyrille frowned as he pushed his thumb down against your lower lip.  “You don’t look like you, angel, except for this mouth of yours.”  He dragged his thumb side-to-side over your mouth.  “Yes, these are your lips, all right, asking to be kissed and claimed – fuck,” he growled, and he kissed you again.

But this time, after another heated minute of kissing, Cyrille whispered furiously, “You damn near killed me, you know.  I tell you to stay away from me and you plant yourself in the fucking Slytherin common room, of all places.  I swear my heart stopped in that moment, stopped cold.  How could you?” Not even waiting for an answer, he kissed you once more, feverishly claiming your mouth - the only thing that still looked completely like you - as his. He slid his hand across the back of your neck.

“But I had a p-plan and a – a disguise - ” you bleated out pitifully between kisses.

“You think that’s enough, do you? You foolish, troublesome little thing,” Cyrille growled, gripping the back of your neck quite tightly now.  “You think it wasn’t evident within two seconds that it wasn’t some Slytherin pureblood after all, but a headstrong Gryffindor – No, worse – a stupid, soft, little angel, trembling all over and looking at me like she’d finally found her paradise – I told you to keep your halo hidden, angel, and you let it form right over your head in the middle of the goddamn Slytherin common room - ”

“I was only – only h-happy to see you,” you huffed out – and then, “Mmmmm,” you moaned lowly as Cyrille took your sweet little mouth as his again.

Another minute flew by, where all the two of you were doing were pressing yourselves up against each other as much as you could and kissing, kissing, kissing – mouths pressed hotly, sweetly, feverishly, wetly against each other – Your mind blurred so sweetly into one, beautiful hum.  You were floating.  You were in heaven.  You were underwater.  It didn’t matter, really.  You were with Cyrille, and even being in heaven or underwater were poor substitutes for how he made you feel.

Still, Cyrille seemed to have some point he was determined to make, as he berated you, while biting harshly on your lower lip, “Don’t you see?  That’s how you rendered this entire disguise utterly useless.”

“Nngh,” you panted, feeling his teeth sink into your soft lip.

“You think anyone in that miserable room is happy to see me?" Cyrille questioned you. "You think anyone in this entire castle would be happy to see me?"

“Yes,” you mumbled back, still pressing your lips against his while you ran your hands happily all over his chest and shoulders and then ran your fingers through his long, silky hair. “So… happy – mm – to see you, Cy.”

Cyrille scoffed.  “You can throw on a thousand disguises, angel, but you have to realize that you are the exception.  Don’t you understand yet?  You are my one and only.  And you have always stood out – a rose among throngs, an angel among devils, a belligerent little brat among submissives.  So, why on earth would you think any disguise, let alone a flimsy one like this, would succeed?”

Cyrille was scolding you in no uncertain terms, and yet, you were so utterly thrilled to be back in his arms that you barely took it in.  You were already completely lost in him.  You felt a tremendous wave of relief crash into you at being with him again, after an entire month of his haunting you, but never actually being there – never touching you, never speaking to you, never even meeting your eyes.   That he was here now, that you could feel him against you and take in his scent and warmth and hear the pleasant buzzing of his voice sink into your ears, even if they were rather harsh words –Oh, Cy, I’ve missed you so.  I know it was risky and foolish to come see you, but all I can think right now is – How did I even last so long without you?

“Angel,” Cyrille growled, his lips still pressed hard against yours, “I’ll ask you again – what the hell were you thinking?”  He paused to rain a flurry of kisses all over your sweet, blushing face before he scolded you again, “If something had happened to you, you should have called for me in other ways – sending a letter, asking the Gryffindor prefect to come find me – you know I’d be by your side in a heartbeat.  Why did you risk coming into territory where you could have been hurt if you were found out?”

“Don’t you know by now? Didn’t I answer this question when I got back my memories?” you murmured, as you wrapped your arms around Cyrille’s shoulders tightly.  “I’m not complete without you, and I will always find my way back to you. There’s no other way for me to be.  If you don’t get that, then I think you’re the – what did you call me? – the foolish, troublesome little thing here.”  Then, you drew him to you at the same time that you leaned forward, and you kissed him desperately.  The way you kissed him now, your kiss was nothing short of the act of baring your soul for him.  And Cyrille could feel it, try as he might to hold onto logic and make you see sense.  He could feel your shivering little body against him, trembling like the first newborn lonely leaf of spring, still exposed to the last of harsh winter winds. 

Cyrille knew he had to stay grounded, that he had to steady you and shield you and yet - “Uhn, fuck,” he gasped into your mouth.  “Angel, you’re going to drive me – drive me absolutely insane like this - ”

“Mm, yes,” you breathed out.  “Join me.”  You got onto tiptoe to kiss him even deeper, and you whispered, “Fall into madness with me.  It’s all I’ve been feeling this past month, anyways.”

Cyrille attempted to hold onto the last shred of sanity in his mind, and he gripped your waist quite tightly, as he reminded you, “But I told you – quite clearly, I thought - that I couldn’t be seen with you if I wanted to protect you.  You don’t still doubt, do you, that I’m yours?”  He cut off, however, as you collapsed into him entirely. 

Hugging him tightly, you both fell back against the door.  “I know you’re mine,” you replied sweetly.  “I will never doubt that again.  But don’t you understand that that’s only half of the equation?  I also need to be made yours, need to be reminded that I’m yours.  And I want to feel it.  I want to feel it from you, until our physical bodies can be as sure as our hearts that we are each other’s.” 

Still pressed against him, with you holding him against the door, you grasped Cyrille’s hands and guided him so that he was touching you all over, running his beautiful hands all over your figure—your hips, your waist, your breasts, your chest—making you feel beautiful too. 

Cyrille let out a hard breath.  Fuck, feeling Angel again, right under my hands.  Her sweet little figure, all to myself.  Oh Merlin, I’m going to lose it.  I can’t – when she’s like this – I can’t seem to – to –

Looking up at him with that same adoring gaze you’d given him in the common room, you whispered, “Do you see now?  Yes, you protected me, my love, and I hope I protected you, too.  But still, you made me ache.  You made me ache all over, Lestrange.”

“Don’t call me that - ”

But you kept going, telling him with your smart little mouth, “You have to take responsibility for that too, you know, Lestrange.”

Cyrille gripped the front of your blazer tightly and yanked you around, switching places with you.  All at once, you were the one pressed up against the door.  He said in a low, harsh voice, “So, this is how you play it? You must think I’m so easy, angel. You think that if you come waltzing over to my domain, treating my jacket as a silly little costume, dangling that pendant bearing my family crest before me like a toy, I’d drop everything and give you what you want, is that it?”

“I didn’t think that,” you said honestly.  “But…” You reached down and took his hand in yours.  You lifted his hand up to your mouth and kissed it, all along his fingertips and then, bending your head a little, you kissed all the way down to his palm. As you carried on this small act of worshipping him, you confessed, “I hoped.”

Cyrille’s eyes widened.  He let out a soft hiss.  Fuck.  If this is her playing me, I’m afraid she’s got me wrapped around her little finger.  I did drop everything to follow her, and I’d let everything go to flames as long as it meant staying with her a little longer now… And if it’s not her playing me, if she really means that, then – then in some ways it’s even worse.  She’ll break my fucking heart, loving me like this, asking for me like this.  No matter how much my submissives may have begged for me, it doesn’t even compare.  Not even close.  No one could ever, ever come close to the woman standing before me now.

Cyrille gripped your waist so tightly his nails dug into you a little.  Surprised, you let go of his hand and dropped back against the door, letting out a soft lilting, “ah…” as you felt his fingers imprint on you.

Cyrille traced your body, from your hips all the way up, sliding his hand between your breasts and over your chest, to your throat… His fingers flexed for a second, just a second – you stilled at once, and, lifting your head back up, you looked up at him with half-lidded eyes, already rendered helpless from want of him.

The shifting water outside cast dancing shadows on your disguised face… Cyrille frowned a little.  But then your voice, your voice, sounded out again, all sweet and raspy – “Do you want to go ahead and choke me? Because you can if you want," you assured him. "I promise you, this throat is all yours.”

Cyrille tried to calm his breathing.  You were supposed to pant, yes, but not him.  However, he was barely controlling himself.  Seeing your lovely little throat, already under his hand, and seeing your pretty lips parting to give him that sweet, sweet permission that he desperately craved from you, an intense thrum ran all throughout his body, spreading even to his fingertips, already poised around your neck and itching to squeeze.  Cyrille swallowed thickly, and, though neither of you noticed at that precise moment, his cock began to stiffen quickly in his pants. 

But, as always, Cyrille forced himself to find some semblance of restraint – because, even as his blood pulsed heavily at the thought of claiming you, still, he was terrified that he might do something you wouldn’t like or—his worst fear—that might hurt you.  Ignoring your sweet little words telling him that it was okay to choke you, which mingled with the devilish, serpentine voices in his head whispering that he should take you now and possess you, bully you, make you cry a little, Cyrille whispered hoarsely, “Angel, what do you really want from me tonight?  Tell me clearly and tell me quickly.”  He let out a harsh breath as he confessed, “If you’re still recovering from your memories, if you need time, I can give you that.  I can be gentle, if that’s what you want. But I must admit, I’m…”  Cyrille suddenly blurted out, in a voice that was strange even to his own ears, in a voice that almost needy, “I’m – I’m falling apart at your hands.  You coming to me like this, saying such things… You’re actually driving me insane.  So, you have to be clear what you want from me or else I just – I might take it all from you tonight.” 

Inside his mind, Cyrille wondered desperately – If Angel knew how many times I’ve hallucinated her, dreamt of her, prayed to dream of her… How I’ve spent every moment where I’m not masking to beg the world to bring us together again… If she knew, then she might have a glimpse into how intense this all is for me right now.  It’s as if I’ve lived my entire life behind the strongest castle walls and then, all of a sudden, one day, an angel barrels through them all and asks me if I’d like to be freed.  Of course I would say yes, but isn’t it only natural, only human, to be afraid of such sudden, pure happiness?  I’m afraid now that I might respond poorly to you and disappoint you somehow, and you’ll disappear just as suddenly and unexpectedly as you’ve appeared before me… Tell me how to love you without losing you, I beg you.   

You reached out and grasped his tie in your trembling hands.  Tugging at it, you said, “Everything you want to do, I want to take. Just look at me. Please. Look… at me.”  Your tone started off reassuring, but somehow fell into pleading, and then, fell even further into pure, bleeding, blossoming vulnerability. A strong sense of sorrow wove into your words. To your own surprise, your eyes began to blur with tears.

Cyrille’s eyes flashed fiercely between shadow and light, possessiveness and protectiveness, and love and sorrow as he watched you.  A part of him ached deeply to see you cry before him like this – not from overwhelming pleasure, but from the absence of it.  And yet, seeing you cry for him while asking him for the simplest little thing as though you were daring to ask him to bring you the sun, it made Cyrille realize that you were in the same state of desperate need that he was.  Yes, here’s my angel, standing before me, dripping all over with the need to be adored, cherished, loved… and taken.  Saying such a simple request to me as though it’s costing her everything, I see so plainly that she needs to be with me tonight and reminded that she belongs to me.   His entire body throbbed hotly for you, as he decided, with a great sense of relief, I can give her that. But your words confused him a little, so he asked you, “Why is that what you ask of me? I am looking at you. I am always looking at you, angel.  Don’t you know that by now?”

Tears glimmered softly in your eyes, as you murmured back, “I… don’t think so…” 

Cyrille’s heart panged again.  A confusing, but deepening, hurt was slowly growing within him.  His duty to protect you, which he had been adhering to strictly and in secret, had been a difficult, but stable thing all these years.  It was hard for him to recognize, let alone know how to respond to, the idea that his way of protecting you might also be causing you some type of pain.  As it was, he couldn’t recognize it now, but it made him feel shakier than usual.  What was more, it hurt his pride to see you this way.  Because Cyrille desired to give you everything you wished for—after all, your wish was his command.  To see you reaching for him and begging for him just to look at you, even as it made him taut all over with desire for you, it also made him feel deeply guilty.  How much have I neglected my beloved, that this is all she asks me for? 

Trying to center himself, to hold onto his dominant persona, which seemed to fly out the window so easily when he was with you, Cyrille reached up and adjusted his tie, though it had been resting perfectly fine this entire time.  In a rather raspy voice, he murmured, “Very well.  Then be still.  Until you can feel how I’m looking at you.  Until all you can feel is me looking at you. Only then will I let you go tonight.” 

You saw, even through your tears, those cold silver eyes that haunted your dreams slowly coming to life for you – at long last.  You breathed out slowly, and then, whispered, a bit pathetically, “Yes, please…”

Cyrille brushed his fingers softly across your cheeks for a moment, adoring you openly and softly, before he let his fingertips graze tantalizingly over your throat.  “Do I have your permission to grasp at this little throat of yours tonight?  To, as you say, take your breath away?”

“Yes,” you said at once, nodding your head.  Your chin bumped up against his hand, as his fingers were curled around your throat rather possessively already.  “Put your hand on my neck, please.  I feel so cold without your hand around my throat.”

My God, is she trying to kill me tonight?  Cyrille thought, quite taken by you like this.  Playing so prettily at being submissive?  He gripped your little throat then and slowly but surely pinned you against the wall.  He held you up against the wall a bit higher than your standing height, barely enough to make you strain –

“Ah,” you panted out, and your hands flew to his wrist.  You instinctively went onto your tiptoes, but after a few seconds, you fell back unstably onto your feet.  “Cy… Um…”

Cyrille pretended not to notice.  

“Nngh,” you mumbled, as you tried to figure out how to stand comfortably – only, you couldn’t.  Of course you couldn’t, Cyrille had made it so that you couldn’t. 

As you struggled in his grasp, Cyrille calmly took off his tie with his other hand, murmuring, “You know, seeing how nicely you’re asking for me tonight, I’m inclined to simply give you what you want.”

You blinked, distracted by the sight of Cyrille’s emerald and silver tie coming off of his neck and chest and slipping lithely through his fingers. 

You only half-heard Cyrille’s next words, as he said, “But then, no matter how much I think about it, I have to tell you – you’re a fucking brat for risking it all like this.  I really thought I made it very clear, princess - ”  His tie came off and he snapped it in the air hard, straightening it right out – “that we can’t be seen together. “ 

Cyrille shifted forward, pressing his hand harder to your throat.  Your breath cut off slightly, and you squirmed, startled.  Cyrille leaned into you, pinning your whole body hard against the wall.  He whispered lowly in your ear, “Your friend who stupidly tried to protect you – what was her name? Vance? Does she know that, despite her concerns for you, you’ve ventured all the way over here, in this dumb little Slytherin schoolgirl get-up that I know you wouldn’t otherwise be caught dead in, just to be fucked by me?” 

“Vance – I mean, Em – was only being nice,” you mumbled back.  At the same time, you felt your thighs and tummy start to flare up a little, due to the effort it was costing you to try to lift yourself up to match the height at which Cyrille was pinning you against the wall by your throat.

“And since when were threats counted as niceties, I wonder? Or are all your friends uncivilized brutes? Potter certainly was.” Cyrille mused in a voice that dripped with sarcasm, “What was it that Vance asked me?  Oh yes, she demanded I rank how much of an ass I was on a scale of one to ten. And she didn’t really leave me much to work with.”  He muttered, annoyed, “I’m beginning to realize that you have very bad taste in people, princess.”

By now, you had to focus on your breathing in order to speak because the way Cyrille had his hand slotted right up against your throat and pushing you up a little on the wall, made you have to use your breath quite conservatively.  Still, you managed to retort, “You could’ve just said two, you know. You give her a hard time, too. And don’t you think you sort-of proved her point that you might be an ass by refusing to pick a number? Or did you not understand the question? I could – could explain it again if you – you like - um…”  You paused. You felt a strange pressure slither around your wrists, as though a snake was wrapping its cold scales around your wrists.  In fact, Cyrille had reached behind you and expertly bound your wrists together with his tie.

You blinked at the strange sensation. “What are you doing to me, Cy?”

All Cyrille responded with was, “I’m still waiting for your answer.  Does Vance know? That while she threatens me, you come straight to me and plead for me to pay attention to you?” Just then, Cyrille's hand dropped to his belt buckle. 

“No,” you said honestly.  “I wouldn’t risk it.  For your sake.”  It was important to you that Cyrille realize you had kept your promises to him, even keeping secrets from Emmeline to protect him and his mission.  You were so concentrated on making sure Cyrille knew that he was safe with you that you didn’t quite notice the clink that sounded out as Cyrille opened the silver buckle on his belt.

Seeing that he had successfully distracted you with this line of questioning, Cyrille continued to mislead you and tease you.  “For my sake?" he repeated, and laughed scornfully.  "What lies you tell, princess. I almost pity Vance now.”

You frowned.  “What do you mean?  It’s not a lie.” 

“It most certainly is," Cyrille hissed at you, and his voice slithered through your ears, straight into the deepest parts of your mind. Even though you knew you were safe with him, it made you shiver to hear him speak to you so, as he whispered warningly, "You had best control yourself and watch that naughty little mouth of yours, before I find another way to tame it and hush it. If you keep carrying on the way you do, it might just make me believe that you want me to shut you up by filling up that smart mouth of yours, filling it all up until you can't talk anymore.” 

One part of you felt you ought to protest, but another part of you jolted in excitement at the thought of taking Cyrille in your mouth.  Before you knew it, you were mumbling out in a rush, “Um, um – what way?”  Without realizing it, standing there before him, still pinned against the wall, your thighs twitched excitedly.

Cyrille certainly noticed, however, and a pleased, sly smirk crossed his lips.  “Oh, princess, you’re so adorable when you’re like this,” he murmured.  “Thinking about taking me in pretty, sweet mouth and getting all excited.  Yes, I can see in your eyes, despite this disguise, that you’ve reached a point where you simply can’t go on, can’t function like an angel should, if you have to go even one more night without being taken and tamed by the devil, hm?”  He yanked the belt out of the waistband.  As it flew out, he purposefully let the leather edge of one end land lightly on your tummy.  You instinctively tried to bring your hands up to catch the end of the belt, but as your hands were tied behind you, you were only able to twitch your hands against your binds.  Cyrille smirked at you, then, and he taunted you further, “After all, you have to know hell to recognize heaven. Isn't that right, my fallen little angel? You've lost your way home, with your silly little rescue attempts, and now you're making a right mess of this earth. You think you know what's best, but all you're doing is getting yourself into trouble with every stupid scheme you dream up. And I suppose it's fallen onto me to set you straight, to deal out the punishment you deserve, in the hopes of making you straighten out again."

You stared up at him breathlessly. 

“In fact…” Cyrille drawled, with a terrible mischief glistening in his silver eyes now, “if I had known what a brat you were from the beginning, I’d have done the right thing and taken responsibility for you from the very beginning, by tying you up and hiding you away from the world, so that you wouldn’t run off and get tangled up in bad situations, like the one you’ve run into now. I’m only doing you and even your annoying friend a favor – yes, a favor – by taking you as mine now.”  He leaned forward again, and this time, you felt the thick, cold leather sliding across the upper half of your arms.  You gasped as Cyrille gave the belt a sharp yank, tightening it quite hard, and then heard another clink as Cyrille re-did the buckle, tying you into place.

“What…?” You tried to move your arms, to test how much movement you had, but your attempt only sent you off kilter so that you stumbled sideways.

Cyrille was right there to catch you.  But once you were in his arms, he whispered meanly, in a silky voice that made your mind spin and your thighs twitch, “Yes, this is what you needed, you oblivious little kitten.  I should have done this ages ago, tied you all up like this, and there’d be no Vance and certainly no Potter.  Having you this way, I’d know that you were safe and you would never, ever doubt again that you were mine.” 

“Nngh,” you mumbled aloud, as you struggled a little against your binds.  Having both the belt and tie pulling your arms together quite tight forced you to arch your back, pushing your breasts out and making your stomach strain.

Cyrille’s eyes glistened as he took in the sight of you arching for him so beautifully, and so early on, for the night had barely begun.  Feeling a hot flush of desire run through him, making his cock throb heavily in his pants, he whispered in your ear, “Kneel, princess.”

O-Oh… Before you knew it, you were slipping right out of his embrace, kneeling down and landing in a soft pile at his feet. 

Cyrille laughed softly.  “That’s right.  You know how to present for me now.  Finally learnt a little something, at long last.”  He knelt down in front of you.  He grabbed your chin and made you look up at him, causing your breath to hitch.  “Mm, you look so pretty like this, my love.”  His tone suddenly became quite a bit darker, however, as he murmured, displeased, “Of course, you’d look a thousand times prettier if you looked like you, but I suppose that can’t be helped right now.  Although, I must admit I feel a strong desire to punish you for thinking you could approach me in this sort-of disguise.  Wearing my blazer is one thing; I gave it to you, after all. Even stealing that Slytherin skirt from who-knows-where and wearing it as though you truly belong to my House might be forgiven.  I'll consider it an apology for wearing that dress that screamed Gryffindor at the Yule Ball, when I went out of my way to find a neutral color for us. But to change yourself…” His eyes tightened. “You should have known that I’d find this unacceptable.”

You tried to defend yourself.  “You say that, but I knew where to draw the line. See, Amelia offered to give me a beard, but I said no.”

Cyrille’s lips twitched as he nearly laughed, and he barely managed to hold onto his cold, scolding demeanor.  A chuckle nearly slipped in as he replied to you, “That’s not the point, you naughty little thing.”

“Wasn’t it?” you said politely, teasing him a little.  You knew he was close to breaking, and you decided to push him to see if you could break him.

“No,” Cyrille said adamantly. He lifted his eyebrow at you, warning you that you were pushing your luck.  “You should have known that I’d deny anyone who didn’t come with your untamable curls, your fiery eyes, your sweet, heart-shaped face… It upsets me, princess, to see you not as yourself.  Even now, I feel so very tempted to deny you or, at the very least, to punish you for relying on such a naughty, foolish attempt to approach me.”  He pressed his thumb against your mouth once more.  Your lips were slightly wetter, puffier, and pinker because of how intensely you’d been kissing each other tonight.  “At least these are your lips,” he murmured.  “That’s what makes this all… acceptable.”   

“But aren’t you already punishing me – ? Ah, mm - ” you moaned as Cyrille pushed his thumb into your mouth.  You sucked on it rather dizzily, by instinct.

Cyrille’s eyes lit up, seeing you so ready to take him tonight.  But he held onto his disinterested act for a little while longer, wanting to tease you a bit more.  “Already punishing you? Oh, my love, you’re so adorable.” He lazily thrust his thumb between your lips. 

"Mmpfh, mm, mm..." Soft moans started to spill from your lips.

Cyrille's eyes glittered as he carried on teasing you, “You know, it’s exactly when you say foolish things like that I’ve realized I’ve neglected you.” 

You whimpered, with your lips still wrapped around his thumb. 

He continued, “I haven’t even started to show you what it means to be punished, princess, and yet, you dare to say ‘already?’” He pulled his thumb out and a soft pop! sounded out from your wet lips.  “But I can’t be too angry with you, can I? When you’ve done all this, willingly drowning yourself in your own recklessness, simply to come here and ask me to look at you.” 

Grasping your face with both his hands, Cyrille planted a tender, loving kiss on your lips. You moaned softly as you received his kiss. His palms were so warm against your cheeks, and he kissed you so deeply that it made you tilt your head back a little. 

Angel, Cyrille whispered in his mind, I’m sorry.  You bravely got your memories back and I should be by your side right now, as you slowly work your way through those memories and try to heal from that.  Yet, that first night and then this one night, this one night that you’ve messily and recklessly cobbled together for us, is all that I’ve been able to give you. I’m so sorry, my love.  I’m afraid I’ve made you more alone than ever. He resolved, but I will give you what you asked for tonight.  I will make you feel—deeply and entirely—what it means to be looked at by me. You will never doubt that I’m looking for you again. I swear it.

“Tell me...” Cyrille pulled away from you, but he kept holding your face warmly in his hands and he kept his gaze on your lovely lips. “Do I have your permission to take this sweet little mouth of yours tonight?” 

“Yes,” you breathed out eagerly. 

Cyrille nodded and got to his feet.  Standing in front of you, he murmured softly, “Open your mouth, princess. Let’s see exactly how desperate you are for me.”  He started to undo the front of his pants, when his shirt got in the way.  He quickly discarded his shirt as well, unbuttoning it and letting it fall to the ground. He took his cock out and stroked it a few times, readying himself for you.  With his other hand, he reached down and gently made you tip your head back, to look up at him.  Staring down at you, Cyrille again felt a mixture of adoration and dissatisfaction.  Because of course, he could spot the parts of you that you’d kept of your physical appearance, and more importantly, your spirit was there, and the love you held for him was clear in your eyes.  But it irked him to no end that you’d changed some of your features as part of your disguise.

Interestingly enough, however, Cyrille found he somewhat liked seeing you dressed in Slytherin colors.  Or perhaps it’s simply because I rather enjoy seeing her in my blazer?  He mused for a second longer, no, I think it’s a little more than that.  I think that seeing her in Slytherin uniform, it’s almost like it brings her closer to me, as if I could imagine a version of our life where we were both still Slytherin purebloods, but the pureblood regime wasn't so despicable and corrupted. In other words, a world where we could be born Slytherin purebloods together without issue. In such a world, she could have been by my side, and I by hers, all of our lives – our summers together, our school years together, marrying each other right out of school to join together the Lestrange and Rosier lines, and we’d get our chance to play at being rich aristocrats in a falling world… He whispered rather tautly, “You know what’s ironic, angel?”

“Hm?” you said softly, sweetly, waiting to hear his words and enjoying how his lovely, sad voice fell upon your ears like cold, silver rain.

“I object to your disguise entirely, but I have to tell you, Slytherin colors suit you better.”

You suddenly wrinkled your nose, and Cyrille chuckled lowly, for now you definitely looked like yourself, despite your transformed features.

“Oh, please,” you scoffed.  “Gryffindor is the only House I could have ever been Sorted into.”

“I beg to differ,” Cyrille said quickly, reaching down and running his fingers lithely under the blazer collar to straighten it out for you.  “Take, for instance, this jacket on you - ”

“But this is yours,” you reminded him, your voice softening again.  “It’s not just any old Slytherin jacket.”

“I know,” Cyrille said.  “And you look gorgeous in it.  In fact, I think it’s all you’re meant to wear.”

You paused.  All…?

Cyrille continued, in the same, easy tone, “Just this, nothing else, all tied up in my bed, so that I can see you wrapped in my blazer, with my cum streaming down your legs at all hours of the day.”

You blinked.  Oh, my.

Cyrille asked you lightly, “Wouldn’t that be nice?”

Tied up in his bed… Only wearing his jacket... His cum streaming down my legs… Oh… Your pussy suddenly thumped between your legs.

“Princess,” Cyrille repeated, “wouldn’t that be nice?”  His tone edged ever so slightly towards a warning.  At the same time, his hand slipped out from the jacket collar and grasped your throat.  “Answer me.”

“N-Nice?”

Cyrille nodded.  He squeezed his hand ever so slightly around your neck. 

“Um, y-yes, I s’pse so,” you mumbled out, rather humbly.

His fingers tightened around your neck even more.  Your heart quickened, and you started to have to pant for air.

Cyrille’s lips quirked up into a small, devious smile.  “It would?”

You hurriedly gasped out, “Y-Yes!”

“Tsk.”  Pretending to be disappointed in you, Cyrille let you go.  “My God, princess, you agreed so quickly.  What else could I get you to agree to, I wonder, once you’re all fucked out?”

You frowned. “I didn’t agree to your point, though.  I never said that Slytherin was a better fit for me than Gryffindor.  I only agreed to - ”

“Let me bind you to my bed and use your pussy until you’re overflowing with my cum, and the entire time, all you’d have on is my blazer,” Cyrille reeled off wryly.  “Right, that’s much less of a concession than simply saying Slytherin is an acceptable House.” 

“But I – You’re – You’re tricking me,” you pushed back.

Cyrille smirked at you.  “I was merely having a conversation with you, princess.  It’s not my fault if you can’t keep up, so don’t you dare pout at me like that. Or, if you insist on continuing to make that face at me, I’ll fix your pout another way…” He reached down and stroked his cock again, and he breathed out audibly.  

Your eyes glittered with want. You suddenly found your mouth watering slightly, and your lips all too ready to part.  Still, you wanted to make your point known, so you abruptly blurted out, while hardly aware of the words spilling out of your mouth, “All I was saying was that I liked your jacket because it’s yours, Cy.  I’ve made myself cum while kissing it.”

Cyrille paused.  “What?” 

You froze.  “What?” you repeated back to him dumbly.

Cyrille laughed scornfully, carefully hiding his delight at your confession.  “You darling little thing.”  He reached down and gave your cheek a little slap!, making you blink in surprise.  “Doing something so ridiculous, so pitiful – I don’t even know whether to punish or reward you for it.”

“Then do both,” you said softly, even as you blushed at your own straightforwardness tonight. “I’m right here, all tied up for you, and you could do both to me.”  You tried to kiss his hand, but Cyrille drew it away from you.  With your arms tied behind you, you nearly fell forward while trying to chase his fingers.

Cyrille gazed down at you, almost coldly, watching as you wobbled about trying to find your balance again.  He said to you, almost a reminder to himself, “You said you wished for me to look at you...”

Looking up at him, you affirmed sweetly, “Yes. I really want that.”

Cyrille agreed, “Fine.  I’ll watch you, my love, as you take me in…” He kept his hand under your chin, but he reached up and slowly ran his thumb all along your bottom lip. “…Here.”

Your mouth fell open.  And it wasn’t even in response to his words.  Rather, from your viewpoint, Cyrille looked captivating.  His long, slender frame, with his cut muscles, caught the dim, fluctuating light in a strange, almost ghostly, way that was so striking.  You wondered for a moment if he’d grown taller, before realizing that it wasn’t that; rather, in such instances, Cyrille’s aura draped around him almost royally, making him appear untouchable, and it was Cyrille’s instinctive ability to create such an illusion that the moment when he did touch you, the moment he shattered that illusion, so very satisfying. You wished he’d take his pants and briefs off properly, so you could admire his bare hips and rest your cheek on his strong thighs for a moment, but it was already too late - Cyrille reached out and grabbed the back of your head with one hand, and with the other, he guided his cock to you.  The last words you heard before he fucked your mouth with his cock was Cyrille promising you, “Your punishment, and your reward, angel – take it.”

“Mmpfh!”  His wet, thick cock slid right into your mouth.  Your lips were already quite wet from kissing so much, and as his cock slid right over your soft tongue and hit up against the back of your throat, your eyes, already slightly misty with tears, welled up.  You started crying almost immediately.

Cyrille paused, looking down at you to make sure you weren’t hurting in any way.  You blinked, and tears streaked down your cheeks.  But then, you looked up at Cyrille, clearly waiting for him and wondering why he’d paused.  Realizing you were all right and wanting more, Cyrille grasped your head with both of his hands and began thrusting his cock roughly into you, making good use of your warm little mouth –

“Mmm!  Mm – mm, mm, mmm!  Mmm!"  Garbled moans, much more intense than when it had just been his thumb, tumbled from your lips as Cyrille used your mouth to make himself harder and bigger for you.

Cyrille groaned and he tried to fist your hair tightly to make you take him deeper, only to find that he despised how your hair had been turned sleeker.  “Fuck,” he cursed, annoyed, “I can’t grab your hair when it’s like this.”

“Mm mm!” was your only response.

Cyrille muttered, half to himself, “Fine. I don’t really want to hear it from you, anyways, princess.  Not on this point.  Make it up to me and just take my fucking cock, take it – oh, fuck, yes…”  He huffed heavily as he praised you, “Such a sweet mouth – yes, take it all, shove it down that pretty little throat.  You thought I’d only choke you with my hand, hm?  But there are other ways, many ways, to take your breath away.  Just wait, uhn, wait for me to show you every” - thrust – “single” – thrust  - “way.”

You were drooling now, and, despite the fact that you were simply kneeling and taking it while he fucked your mouth, with your arms bound back like that, it cost you a lot of effort, constantly shifting to stay on balance while taking him.  You were forced to rock back and forth every time Cyrille moved his hips, with his thick cock pulling and pushing at your lips.  Also, his fucking his cock repeatedly into your throat meant that you could only breathe shallowly, and having your arms pulled back so tightly made it even harder to breathe.  Your soft breasts and chest heaved up and down as you tried to gulp air, despite the fact that you logically knew you couldn’t, since your throat was stuffed so deliciously with your lover’s cock. 

"Breathe through your nose, angel," Cyrille reminded you.

You stared up at him with teary eyes, but you nodded and focusing, you remembered to breathe properly.

"Good girl," Cyrille said softly. Then, knowing that you could take him now without struggling too much to breathe, Cyrille's hips tightened and his abs rippled as he fucked your mouth much harder and faster. He groaned heavily as he enjoyed such an intense pleasure at feeling your warm, wet mouth wrapped around him like this. You moaned with him, letting out a needy, strangled moan that rang out in that dark, underwater room.

Cyrille knew that if he pushed himself (and you) a little further, he could absolutely cum in your mouth right now.  But no, he had far too many other things he wanted to do to you tonight, things that he thought you’d enjoy more, and so he forced himself to stop and pull his cock out of your greedy little mouth.

“Ah!” A hard, heavy gasp left you as Cyrille stepped away from you.  Saliva and pre-cum dripped from your lips onto your neck and chest, even your thighs a little… You keeled forward for a second and nearly lost balance, unable to put your hands out to catch yourself.  But then, you fell backwards onto the wall.  With your arms bound behind you, there was no other way to fall back but to let your thighs spread open messily as you sank onto the floor.

Cyrille was there at once, sliding his hand over your back to pull you up a little.  “Are you all right?”

You nodded, blinking rapidly to clear your eyes of tears.  Cyrille gently wiped your eyes for you.  "I've got you," he murmured soothingly.

You blinked again and then, you looked up at him and smiled.

“There you are." Cyrille lovingly kissed your forehead.  “You did so well for me.  That mouth of yours is…”  He groaned lowly, as his cock throbbed at the mere mention of your mouth.  But Cyrille first had to take care of you.  His hand fell to your neck again.  Noticing the drops of saliva and pre-cum, he used his thumb to rub it slowly into your soft skin.  He started at your chest, but then, he reached lower, his wrist pushing at the opening of your button-up and making the buttons strain, until he slipped his hand into your bra, cupped your breast and, still using his thumb, rubbed his pre-cum into your nipple.

“Ah…” you moaned out softly, letting your head loll back against the wall behind you.

“Feels good?”

“Y-Yeah,” you mumbled out.

“Yeah, you like that?  Rubbing my cum on your breasts?” Cyrille murmured softly. 

“Mhm,” you said, nodding agreeably. 

Cyrille bit back a smile, softening as he saw how you melted under his touch like this, clearly enjoying having his cum rubbed all over your body.  Fuck, she’s so cute when she’s like this.  However… Cyrille reached up and abruptly yanked the front of your shirt wide open – Pop, pop, pop!  Startled, your eyes flashed open as your buttons went flying into the air and scattered loudly across the floor.  Your blazer and shirt still stayed on your arms because of the way the belt was wrapped across the upper halves of your arms, but your clothes were hanging wide open now, and your lovely little figure – your breasts, tummy, and waist - were totally exposed.

“Yes, here’s the angel I know,” Cyrille breathed out, taking in the sight of you.  “All soft and like, mm… My love, have you gotten softer since we’ve been apart?” He paused to kiss your breasts and, for a moment, he caught your nipple between his teeth and tugged lightly, making you mewl a little.  “I swear you have.  Sweeter, too,” he whispered adoringly to you. “Perhaps it was all those strawberries you ate, hm?  I saw you, you know, sucking on those strawberries while you snuck glances at me.  It made me wonder how they tasted - ” He clamped his mouth down on your breast and sucked hard.

“Ah, Cy!” You shivered, and your arms strained against your binds.  However, the binds stayed resolutely, frustratingly tight, and all you could do was arch your back further. Cyrille took full advantage of that to take even more of you soft, warm breast in his mouth.  Snaking his arm in-between your elbows and your back, Cyrille forced you to keep that arch in your back tight as he devoured your breasts, sucking on them ravenously.  He bit at your sensitive nipples, and then, when they were all pink and pert for him, he pushed his tongue against them, roughly tonguing and tasting you.

Usually, you’d have your hands buried in his silky hair and you’d tug at him as he kissed you like this, but you couldn’t, you couldn’t, you couldn’t – oh, why couldn’t you?  Tension streamed through your entire body, as you were unable to grab onto anything while Cyrille let loose all of his need and stress onto you.

“Cy - !” you gasped out.  You didn’t realize it, but your wrists were slowly turning pink as you strained repeatedly against Cyrille’s tie and belt.  Your tummy rippled, too, when Cyrille pressed the tip of his tongue directly down against your nipple – “Nngh!”

Cyrille moaned out hotly.  While he was still holding you up a little, with his arm around your waist, with his other hand, he reached down and traced your curves, admiring them.  “Yes, look at you, princess.  You’ve definitely become softer for me.  Mm, what a good girl you’ve become.  I fucking love you like this. I think I could almost, almost, forgive you for disguising your face tonight.”

“Now,” he drawled, “let’s see your pussy, hm?  Let’s see if you’ve gotten any softer there for me, too.  I’ll reward you if you have, I promise you that.”  The next second, Cyrille made short work of your skirt, and even shorter work getting to you. Your skirt had barely fluttered to the ground when you found Cyrille's hand slotted firmly between your thighs, and he wasted no time in rubbing you through your panties.

“Wait,” you said, “you should take – take my panties off, so I can – ah – wear them a-afterwards!”

Cyrille pushed his fingers right over your pussy hole, fucking your panties inside of you as he blatantly teased you by ignoring your request.  “I could,” he acknowledged, “but, now, where would be the fun in that?” 

"You - You bully!" you gasped out.

"Call me whatever you want, princess. I have you right where I want you." Yanking your now-wet panties to the side, Cyrille thrust his index finger inside of you.

“Nngh!” Your thighs trembled and then tightened, clamping around his hand. 

Cyrille warmed you up quickly, adding a second finger only a couple of minutes later, and then adding a third, and then curling them a little inside of you and fucking you furiously with all three fingers deep inside of you.  He was trying to appear controlled and in charge for you, but in truth, he was as far gone as you were, and he was absolutely desperate to have you fully, to be inside of you.

You gasped loudly, and your legs began to shake.  Meanwhile, your hands grasped furiously at nothing behind you, utterly useless, and now your wrists and arms both sported bright pink lines from straining and rubbing up against your binds so much.  Strangely enough, having your arms bound also affected your abs far more than you'd guessed.  The sheer effort it took you to continuously balance yourself without the use of your hands to catch yourself or hold onto something was significant.  Then, taking Cyrille’s fingers and feeling the heat start to simmer within you – while you could do nothing to release it.  You couldn’t clutch onto Cyrille’s shoulders and dig your nails into him; you couldn’t rake your nails helplessly against the wall; you couldn’t even grab onto your own thighs to steady yourself as Cyrille fucked you harder and harder with his fingers; you couldn’t do anything but take it.  And you were only taking his fingers; a warning bell went off in your mind, making you tremble with anticipation at what would happen when Cyrille made you take his cock. 

Just then – “Ah!” you moaned loudly, and your feet lifted off the floor for a second as your thighs and tummy trembled.  “Mm, yes, good girl,” Cyrille praised you, feeling you soak his hand.  He thrust his fingers into you one last time, and then, yanking his fingers out, he wasted no time in spanking your wet, flushed pussy.  You yelped, and you instinctively began to draw your thighs together – but Cyrille caught your thighs and held them open.  “Where do you think you’re going?” he whispered hungrily.  “You’ve got to keep your legs open for what’s about to come next.”

You stared up at Cyrille with wide eyes as he guided you down onto the ground. Despite his taunting words that promised the ruin to come, he made sure to put his hand gently on the back of your head as he lowered you down slowly and carefully. With your hands bound behind you, you had to tuck your head down more than usual to keep your eyes on him, and even then, all you could see for a moment was the serpent tattoo writhing on his back, as he leaned down to plant kisses all down your thighs. He kissed your pussy wetly, too, and tongued your sweet pussy, lavishing it with licks all over your clit and hole. You cried out and blinked hard and for a moment, you swore the serpent was slithering right off of Cyrille's wide back and was coming for you - You shut your eyes tightly as you tensed. Cyrille buried his head against you at that moment, shaking his head furiously back and forth while his tongue delved inside of you. Your toes curled and - "Nngh!" you gasped out. At that moment, Cyrille felt your pussy get very, very wet for him.

Now that he was sure you were wet enough to start taking him, Cyrille pushed his hands against your soft, plush thighs, making you spread your legs wider for him.  You blearily opened your eyes, just in time to see Cyrille come back up, fully in your view, as he planted one hand beside your head and then straddled you, so that his knees were pushing softly into your inner thighs on either side.  With his other hand, he reached down and guided himself to you, and then, with his cock pushing right over your pussyhole, Cyrille murmured lowly, "Fuck, you were right, angel, it's been far too long" and with that, he pushed his cock inside of you.

O-Oh… At once, you fell apart.  Feeling him stretch you out like that, without any hesitation, without any remorse, and pushing your walls apart so fast, so well – your head fell back against the floor and lolled, and your eyes rolled back.  Oh Godric… Oh Godric… Yes, this is what I’ve been needing.  This is where my dreams fail, but here he is now, giving to me what no fantasy ever could…

But then, the tension caught up to you, rushing in all at once – because Cyrille’s long, hard cock hit up just then against where you still needed to relax and open up.  You shivered and let out a flustered breath, “A-Ah…” 

Cyrille hissed.  His hands clamped into fists on either side of you.  “Come on, princess, didn’t you come here begging me for this?  Didn’t you risk it all for this?  I’m giving it to you now, so play nice and take it now”

You moaned lowly, arching your back off the floor.  Cyrille’s gaze naturally fell to your breasts for a moment, and when he saw the indents from his teeth surrounding your cute, pert nipples, he bit his lower lip hard, feeling a raging rush of heat rise up within him.   Yes, I can leave my love marks on her now, without needing to hold back, he thought, satisfied.  I couldn’t before.  I didn’t want to leave any marks on her before because I was afraid she would be disgusted by me, or if those scars might remind her of something other than pleasure.  But now, I can openly… He thrust into you hard.  …Love you, angel.

“Uhn!” Your cry pierced the room as you felt his cock delve deep in your pussy, pushing past your tight walls and making you open up deep for him.

Cyrille’s brow furrowed as he barely managed to fit his cock inside of your tight little hole.  Fuck, she’s tight, he growled in his head.  His thighs quivered for a moment, too, as he forced himself to hold back and brace himself.  Because seeing you, his beautiful angel, pant for him like this, and feeling your pussy taking him in, little by little, and hearing your beautiful little cries, it challenged Cyrille not to fall headfirst into lust for you, and he had to control and push back hard against his impulses to fuck you hard and fast at once, to chase that pleasure that tempted him so right from the start, and not stop until your pussy was overflowing with his cum – Stop it, he warned himself.  You’re already rushing tonight.  You have to take it slower – for her, for Angel.  But it was so damn difficult.  And the thing was, it usually wasn't this difficult for Cyrille. Usually, he was perfectly able to keep in control, even as he chased pleasure. There was only one person where, when Cyrille saw that person coming undone for him, it also made Cyrille lose control – and that was you.  Only you felt this good to him, but it pushed him to try to assert his dominance over you because, without knowing it, you were challenging him, making him lose his control, because of how intensely you affected him.

As though you could read his thoughts, in that moment, your pussy throbbed hotly all over his cock, as your walls were trying desperately to take in his thickness and his length because he was stretch-ing you out. 

“O-Oh my God,” you stuttered out.  “Ah, Cy, w-wait, j-just a l-little… Ah, God, please...!”

Cyrille did wait, and he reached down and pressed his fingers against your clit softly, rubbing you in tight little circles to help you relax for him.  But though he was making sure to take care of you, he also teased you a little, trying to take out some of his tension by murmuring to you, “I wonder, what use is there in asking for a god?  There are no gods here. They all disappear when you come to me, and I wager you should know that by now.  There’s only me here, and I have you all to myself, little angel.  And I’m going to keep it that way until I’ve had my fill of you tonight.”

Feeling your pussy relax a bit more for him, Cyrille ventured another thrust, a bit deeper now, stretching you out even more –

“Ah,” you sobbed softly, “ah, ah, ah!” His cock is already so deep inside of me, and because I’ve been dreaming of this for a whole month, the anticipation is choking me and making my body freeze up, and I’m so, so tight – Nngh, he’s pushing in – Ah…! You felt his cock delve inside of you, reaching where you were all hot and tight and plush inside.

Cyrille groaned.  “Your pussy’s so fucking soft for me, princess.  Now I’m sure that it is you, after all. No one else feels this good, not even close.”

You whimpered, ever so pleased by his words, even while you were going out of your mind trying to take him all in.

Cyrille smiled softly, knowing that you were happy to hear him praising you like that.  That's right, feels so good, uhn, yeah, feels so fucking good for me, my girl, he thought, a bit drunk on your pussy himself, just as you were clearly drunk on his cock. He steadily fucked his cock deeper and deeper into you, thrusting slow but forcefully, sinking himself into your tight little hole.  He was so tender and patient with you, but he was also very possessive with you, and with every thrust, he pushed your limits a little, fucking his cock into you until your pussy squeezed around him – and still pushing a little more, making you squirm and moan hotly until him – and then he backed off, but you were already fast becoming a moaning little mess.  Because it felt to you that every thrust he gave you, with him pressing it you like that, was him telling you, in no uncertain terms, that you were his. 

And then his voice – that sleek, soft voice of his that seemed so heavenly, only to promise you the most sinful things, slithered right into your ear, and it made your mind spin right round, when he said things like, “Mm, yes, I can feel you taking me in, angel.  You feel so good, and you take me so well.  So well, that it makes me think you’re in love with me.” 

“Y-Yes – nngh - l-love you,” you stuttered out, huffing hard with the effort it was taking for you to take his swollen cock inside of you. 

“Mm, yeah, I can tell,” Cyrille breathed out, now panting with you.  “I can tell with how soft - ” he pushed himself inside of you again – “and warm” – he pushed again, deeper, harder – “and wet you are that you were waiting for this. But we can make you even wetter, can’t we?”

You whimpered, knowing what those words promised – and sure enough, the next moment, Cyrille finally lowered his hips and then slammed into you hard enough that he bottomed out in you.

You gasped loudly, as stars popped out in your vision.  Nngh!  Ah, so deep, so deep, ah, I can’t – ah - ! Even your thoughts cut off, and for a moment, you completely forgot how to breathe.  Your hands clenched into tight, shaking fists behind your back.  Meanwhile, unable to lift your hands, you resorted to lifting your legs and locking them tightly around Cyrille’s hips. 

Cyrille let out a soft, breathless chuckle at your cute little antic, knowing it was a desperate attempt to substitute for your tied-up arms and hands.  He murmured, “You’ve gotten cuter for me in the time we’ve been apart, it seems.” But the next moment, he couldn't help but let out his own, soft moan - "uhnn," as an almost unbearable pleasure coursed through him as he finally bottomed out in you. Without realizing it, he suddenly grinded his hips into you, making you feel every inch of his cock in the deepest part of your tight pussy.

You choked out then, “All I could – nngh – think about this past month was – ah – you.  So f-forgive me if I’m a little – ah! – n-needy tonight.”

“Oh, princess, you shouldn’t have told me that,” Cyrille murmured lowly.  “You’re tempting me to…” He cut off, biting his lower lip harshly.  Because Cyrille was surely losing the battle of control within himself, and he knew it, too.  He was slowly but unquestionably losing all sense of himself, until the only identity he was cognizant of was of whoever he was in this moment that allowed him to be with you.  And your cute little confessions strangled his attempt at reason so expertly it made him feel ashamed – only the prize for feeling such a shame was so satisfying that he didn’t care anymore.  All he could think about or feel was you – his love, his princess, his angel. 

I know I want to heal people and save people, but in truth, I was born too close to violence to ever really succeed in that mission, Cyrille thought.  But you, my angel, I was born close to you, too, wasn’t I?  So the truth is that, in my heart of hearts, I want the world to burn down, to fall apart, to sink into the depths of hell, while I protect you and only you, and I could crack open my heart once and for all and show you, completely, how much I love you.  If the whole world fell apart and only we remained, we could finally be free to love each other, right? These deep, almost painful emotions that Cyrille felt drove him to make love to you tenderly, but also desperately.  He made love to you as if it was all he was made to do, and in return, he swore that you were made for him, and only him.  She must be, he thought desperately, to feel so good to me.  Fuck, she’s all softness inside this pretty cunt of hers.  And tight, yes, but when I know just how to make her take me, and when she does, she does it so well.  Opening up for me so good. He groaned lowly as he fucked you, thinking to himself possessively, Yes, this pussy is mine, and her sweet mouth is mine, and her heart is mine – mine, all mine. 

“Ah!” you moaned, completely abandoning all sense of decency as you felt Cyrille thrusting his cock repeatedly inside of you, pushing you to your limit.  It’s far too early to be so undone, your mind whispered to you, but you didn’t care—you couldn’t.  All there was in this strange, half-lit, underwater world was you and Cyrille.  And as he took you desperately, you reached that point where your body didn’t feel like yours anymore.  So, there was nothing for your thoughts to attach to.  You were pure sensation – and it felt electrifying, overwhelming, chaotic, intense – but also so free.  In some sense, it wasn’t that different from being underwater.  Being with Cyrille like this, it was as though he were sinking you in deep waters, but his mouth was on yours, warm and passing you just enough breath to keep you alive, but above you both, there was endless sea and sky, and the only thing that delineated them was a thin layer of rose petals floating gently on the surface of what seemed like calm waters. 

Raspy, arching cries left your sweet lips as Cyrille sexed you rough and hard, using every muscle in his abs and hips to fuck you deep, claiming, on no uncertain terms, the tenderest part of you as his.  Slowly, your feet slipped apart and off of his hips, and you didn’t even notice. 

In fact, you hardly noticed even when Cyrille flipped you over.  Your feet naturally kicked up a little when the front of your body slumped onto the ground. Cyrille caught your ankles and he ran his hands down your legs, letting himself feel how soft and smooth you were… His hands came to your sweet, plush things, and then up, to your beautiful, pert little ass… Cyrille slowly pushed his palms into your ass and then, he spread you open, until he could see your little pussy peeking out. 

As soon as he saw this enchanting, enticing vision of you from the back – Cyrille cursed softly to himself.  Because damn it all to hell if you weren’t the prettiest thing he ever had the pleasure of seeing.  Seeing you like that - restrained by his belt and his tie, back and shoulders straining gorgeously as you panted, with your ass and thighs trembling while your blushing pink pussy already dripped for him a little, Cyrille’s cock became so stiff that it was almost painful for him.

What was more, the dim light that was barely coming in through the hatched windowpane made a crisscross pattern of light and dark all across your back, including your bare ass and legs.  For a moment, Cyrille wondered if this might be what you looked like if you someday allowed him to take a belt to you, if seeing welts striped across your ass and thighs like this might – might – Stop it, he told himself sternly.  You haven’t even approached the topic with Angel, let alone get her consent.  But, fuck… He swallowed, and his cock twitched.  She would look lovely with my marks all over her.  Mm, yes, she would… Tied to my bed, just waiting to be fucked silly, and striped pink all over from all the loving little spanks and whips I’d give her, making her desperate with sharp touches, while I relentlessly fuck her soft little pussy to orgasm – I’d make her lose her mind, and I’d keep her entirely safe with me while she came completely undone, crying and panting and trembling in my arms, with my cock filling her up through every orgasm – Oh my love, the things I would do to you… You can't even begin to imagine how I'd have you fall apart before me, all so I can catch you, over and over and over again.

But clearly, it would be too much for Angel tonight, Cyrille could tell.  Already, you seemed to have forgotten yourself entirely, as you were panting as though you’d run a mile and hardly even seemed to notice that you were lying on the floor face-down now. 

Still, there are things I can do to her to bring her pleasure, and I’ll make sure to treat her to them all tonight, Cyrille promised to himself.  Gripping your waist tightly in his one hand, while pressing his other hand firmly atop your hands, which were resting on your lower back to effectively pin you down to the ground, Cyrille started to push his cock back into your pussy once more.

“Mm-!” A labored moan was pushed out of you, as Cyrille fucked himself back inside of you. A soft little squelch sounded out as your tight, wet pussy took him back in.

“Good girl,” Cyrille breathed out lowly.  He gazed down and, with half-lidded eyes, watched as his cock sank, inch by inch, back into your cunt.  He saw exactly how much he was spreading you open. As he took in the sight of your pink pussy lips wrapping around his cock, he gritted his teeth, and his abs, thighs, and hips tightened as a fierce desire to pound your pussy until he fucking ruined you suddenly became quite overwhelming. 

“Are you wet enough to take me, angel?” Cyrille checked with you.  He tried to sound calm, but he was begging fervently in his head that your answer would be yes.

Instead, you choked out rather indignantly, “H-Haven’t I been - ?”

Cyrille let out a breathless, harsh laugh.  “Hardly, princess.  Have you already forgotten what it’s like to make love with me?”

You kept up your belligerent, smart-mouth streak as you retorted, “Maybe I have. It’s been a whole month that you’ve neglected me, you know.”

“Well,” Cyrille said silkily, “let me remind you.”  Grabbing your tied-up hands with both of his hands, he yanked you up a little, pulling your hands down towards the ground, making you thrust out your shoulders and breasts and making your tummy go all tight – and then he thrust violently into you from behind.

“Aahhh!” A long, drawn-out gasp burst out of you as you felt his cock absolutely slam into your pussy, pushing all the way down your velvety walls until it hit up against your very core. 

"S-So d-deep!" you choked out. "Ah!"

“Yes,” Cyrille growled, “I’ll make up for all that lost time tonight – uhn – yes, angel.”  He grabbed both of your shoulders and, anchored like that, he roughly moved his hips, back and forth, back and forth, with his cock delving into your pussy deep before pulling out, tugging at your tight little hole every time.

You gasped out with each thrust, warbling out, “Uh, uh, uh, uhnnn…!” Accompanying your gasps were the cute, wet little sounds sounding out as your pussy was starting to drip from taking so much cock, so deep and hard.

“Mm, there you go,” Cyrille said, his own voice strained now. “You hear how soft and wet you are for me now?  This is how it should always be, don’t you think?”

Despite how overwhelmed you felt, you couldn’t help but nod your head at this.  Yes, you moaned in your head, and though you were too breathless to say it aloud, you agreed in your mind, this is how it should always be. So where were you this whole past month?  Why weren’t we like this every day, every night for the past month?  Oh, Cy, yes, give it to me, make it up to me, like you said you would. I want it, I need it, please, please, please... I'll be good for you, I swear. Just take me as much as you please, until I can't take it anymore, oh God, yes!

Cyrille groaned, feeling your pussy milking him so good with how tight you were.  “I know I shouldn’t cum in you tonight but – Uhn, you know, you’re not so angelic yourself, with the way you tempt me, and the way this pussy grips onto me.  I’m trying to hold back but, fuck, I rather think this pussy wants to be cummed in.”

“I – ah – I d-do!” you managed to say.

“Shush,” Cyrille growled at you at once.  “No more of that.  I wasn’t actually offering, princess.”

“But - ”

“No.  You shouldn’t even be talking at all, you brat,” he replied, more harshly than he meant to.  “If you’re put-together enough to think and talk back to me like that, you clearly need to be taken harder.”

You panted out, whip-quick, “Y-Yeah, if it’ll m-make you c-cum in m-me – Ah!”

A gasp ripped out of your throat as Cyrille, to quiet your sinful little mouth, slammed his cock in you so hard a loud slap! rang out in the room as his hips and thighs slammed into you, too.  Lights burst out fuzzily before your eyes and all of the thoughts in your mind went racing off on your own, right out of your brain, just as Cyrille intended.  

Intent on keeping you in your fucked-out, woozy state before your quick little mouth would drive him mad, Cyrille built up a steady rhythm within seconds. Still holding onto your shoulders, he pounded into you hard from behind, making both your pussy and mind a right mess.  You began to lose all sense of your own body, except for how hard you were being fucked and how overwhelming it was for you.  Even the raven pendant, which you had been squeezing in your right hand all this time, slipped from your grasp as your whole body became loose, losing focus on everything else except taking Cyrille.  Since the necklace was still wrapped around your wrist like a bracelet, the pendant caught in the air, hanging just above your ass, and it bounced and flew in the air as you got fucked.

Cyrille noticed and he muttered, between hard breaths, “I can’t fucking believe you had that on you, princess, when you were in the Slytherin common room of all places. Taking such a risk – you were asking to get caught, you foolish little thing.”  And yet, despite himself, seeing his family crest wrapped around your wrists and flashing brightly in the air, bouncing off of your lower back, as he took you, unlocked a deep sense of pride in Cyrille.  He would never fully admit the extent of his obsession with marking you, but he did crave it very much – whether by leaving love marks on your throat, or having you wear his blazer or bear his pendant—it satisfied an intense hunger that Cyrille had always felt for you, though he did his best to keep it tucked away so as not to pressure you or expose you to his darker, more possessive side. 

Even now, Cyrille's voice was so low as he remarked on you holding his pendant that you didn’t hear him.  But you did feel him suddenly pick up the pace, and the muscles in Cyrille’s abs and thighs suddenly rippled as he brutally (but pleasurably) ripped his cock into your tight little cunt over and over again from behind.  Your eyes turned blurry with tears as the heat and the pressure between your legs kept building and building and building.  Letting out a desperate moan, you closed your eyes, clenched your teeth tight, and pitifully tried to bury you face against the floor.  Cyrille, however, quickly yanked you by your shoulders.  A gasp ripped from your throat, as you suddenly had to arch your back quite a bit. 

“Don’t,” Cyrille berated you.  “It’s dirty.”  He paused for just a moment to lay down his shirt under your face.  You gratefully buried your face against his shirt, panting heavily, as Cyrille resumed his driving pace, and this time, he put his hands on your pretty thighs and yanked you flush to him, making sure that with every stroke, you would take him all the way in.    

“Nngh, ah!” you moaned, as he pushed back inside of you.  You panted, open-mouthed against Cyrille's shirt until, without thinking about it, you bit at his shirt, taking the fabric of the pocket into your mouth. Muffled moans spilled from your lips and filled the air – “Mm, mm, mmm…!” How strange, you thought blearily.  Cumming with my face pressed to his blazer because I missed him so, and now, here I am, getting fucked by him, but still with my face pressed in his shirt…

As for you, you still had your blazer and shirt hanging loosely off your shoulders and arms, since they were caught in the belt wrapped around your upper arms. Cyrille now reached forward and, grasping the back of the collar of both the blazer and jacket in his grasp, he yanked the cloth down, until the fabric pooled just below your upper back, and Cyrille was able to see your soft, delicate shoulders, trembling all over now, and a little of your beautiful, lovely back, extending that gorgeous line that started at the back of your neck and which he knew went all the way down your back.

With his cock still buried inside of you and moving his hips roughly and desperately into you, Cyrille leaned forward.  Pushing aside any strands of hair, he kissed the back of your neck and shoulders all over before he finally clamped his mouth hard on your shoulder.  Letting his teeth dig in a little to your soft skin, he sucked hard.  The blazer, the pendant, now this.  Yes, please allow me one more mark tonight. Hearing your soft cry puncture the air as his teeth sank into you, Cyrille thought to himself, I’m sorry, angel, but I have to make you mine tonight, in all ways – except for cumming in you.  It’s too risky now, so I’ll hold back.  But you can let me have everything else, can’t you? 

When Cyrille bit you, a sharp sensation ran through your shoulder and neck, causing you to instinctively lift your head up.  The room was entirely dark now, as night had fallen and the view of the lake through the window was only of a strange, eerie, wavering black.  This meant that you could now, just barely, see your reflection.  You paused, surprised to see how all you could make out of yourself was your blushing face, with your mouth open as you panted with the effort of taking your lover.  Meanwhile, Cyrille was leaning over you completely, his shoulders and back wide and strong. He was hugging you so possessively, with his mouth latched hotly onto your shoulder, and his long hair draped over your back and slipped down your other shoulder.  You could also see the sides of his hips flashing in the glass, and his abs straining, as he worked furiously to make you his, pounding your tight pussy for all he was worth. 

Cyrille, having successfully made an intense love mark blossom to life on your shoulder, also looked up for a moment – and he caught you looking at the reflection of the two of you in the glass.  “What are you doing, princess?’ he whispered, his lips right at your ear.  You shivered as he murmured softly, as if he wasn’t having you pressed hard against the floor and fucking your pussy raw from behind while having his hands and mouth all over you, marking you here, there, and everywhere, “Where are you looking, hm?  See something you like?”  

You whimpered, unable to form a coherent reply.

“Or should I put a third bind on you?” Cyrille suggested lowly.  “A cloth over your eyes, maybe, to keep you from seeing how pitiful you look when you’re getting fucked by your dominant. Because I can feel you starting to tighten on me, princess, and I would guess that there’s a part of you that thinks, adorably, that this is too much, that you look too submissive when I have you like this – and that, my love, is the part of your brain that you need to learn to turn off if you want to stop being such a fucking brat to me.”

Your lower lip trembled, and the only reply you found yourself capable of giving was a haggard, barely audible pant. 

“Mm, yes, that’s more like it, princess,” Cyrille teased meanly.  “Now you’re finding your proper place.  Just focus on taking me, my love, and leave the rest to me.  Nothing matters, after all, when I have you like this.  Uhn, princess, you feel so good.  Yes, you’re such a good girl when you’re all fucked-out like this, a mindless little fuckdoll for me, yes. There's nothing more I want, and there's nothing more you want either, right? Except to be used by me and made mine. And don't worry, princess, I swear to you that I can give you that for as long as you need.”

Your eyes started to blur with tears again.  It was somewhat humiliating, being fucked on the floor like this, your hips being repeatedly pushed into the hard, unforgiving floor beneath you, your nipples all pink and a little sore from you shifting on the floor every time Cyrille made you take his cock, and that purple-pink bruise already appearing on your shoulder from where Cyrille had marked you, and all while your hands were tied firmly behind your back, as you were utterly devoured by your cruel, taunting lover.  And the sounds - the wet sounds of your pussy being ruined by Cyrille, and the raspy, strangled gasps leaving your lips that barely even sounded like you - Your lip quivered, and you whimpered lowly.  I can’t – I can’t take this anymore, you thought pitifully – and just then, the neediest, most lovely whimper escaped your lips – and at the same time, you squirted.

You weren’t even aware that you squirted.  Everything was so warm and wet already – with sweat, with saliva, with cum, with mean, mean praise and promises, and even meaner touches, and besides, you were barely cognizant of anything but that mounting, merciless pressure deep in your tummy and in the stretch of your poor little pussy, threating to overwhelm you entirely as Cyrille fucked you like you were truly just meant to be his – his lover, his girl, yes, but also his fuckdoll, his cumdump, his whore to be bred and used and fucked into a delicious submission you’d never come out of again. 

But Cyrille’s eyes widened when he felt your ass quivering against him, your pussy tightening all of a sudden like a fucking vice on his cock, and then he heard those soft splashing noises as you drenched him.  “Oh, fuck,” he breathed out, as he realized what had happened. "Oh, angel..." Your head drooped down and Cyrille heard you sob softly into his shirt, and he took in the gorgeous sight of your shoulders heaving and your neck craning over softly, almost as if in defeat, as you cried for him.

Cyrille lost himself entirely.  He ripped off your binds at once – your arms sprang loose, but you didn’t even seem to notice that.  Besides, Cyrille moved so quickly that it didn’t matter.  Within three seconds, he’d carelessly tossed aside both his belt and tie.  However, before you could even think that your hands might be free, he gripped both of your hands tightly in his and stretched both of your arms out on either side of you, pinning you down harshly against the ground and making you strain another way.  Holding you down like that, he impatiently used his knees to push apart your shaking, glistening thighs, and he swiftly fucked his cock right back into your pussy, taking you in missionary now, and making the most of this position, slamming into you hard and fast and rough.

You were crying - it was only pleasure, nothing hurt, and yet, it was so much pleasure that everything was blurring together and you weren't even sure if a human body could take so much pleasure, take so much love, take so much sex - and yet, you were, but you didn't know how to take it, you just were and it was - it was - You were gasping furiously, and your whole body was limp as you gave in entirely to however Cyrille was holding you and taking and yet, somehow, you were so fucking tight in your pussy, still. 

Sobbing out loud, your head lolled on the floor as you could hardly handle the relentless waves of orgasmic pleasure slamming into you, thrust after thrust. As you tossed and turned your head, Cyrille noticed your hair spread out messily all over his chest and, with a deep flicker of irritation, he noticed that it was still blonde.

Fuck, I hate it. I really hate not being able to see and touch my angel, Cyrille thought. Before he even realized what he was saying, he demanded, in a low, breathless voice, "Switch back. I need to see you.”  

“I- I c-can-t – ah!” you gasped, as Cyrille cut you off by slamming his cock in your already overstimulated pussy.

“Switch back,” he growled.  “Now.”

“Cy…” you whimpered in a tiny, desperate voice. “Y-You’ll - ah - b-be in trouble if – if someone sees…”

“If anyone else but me sees you like this, I’ll kill them on the spot,” Cyrille hissed.  “It’s not even about your disguise, at that point.”

“D-Don’t s-say that,” you said, still panting hard and feeling quite fuzzy in your mind. "You s-said you're a H-Healer. You shouldn't - uhn - You shouldn't ever h-hurt p-people."

“Then switch for me,” Cyrille growled, squeezing your hands so tightly in his that it made your arms tense and twitch a little.

All you could was let out a low moan, and your head fell back to the side again, while your cum-drenched thighs twitched uncontrollably against Cyrille's thighs.

But Cyrille needed you to stay with him for a moment longer - or however long it took for you to agree to switch back to the real you. Cyrille, with his cock still sheathed inside of you, leaned forward, until he was pressing his forehead against yours.  You moaned brokenly again, as you felt his still-stiff cock shift inside of your poor, used pussy. 

“Please,” Cyrille said softly, earnestly pleading to you now, “I have to see you, angel.  Unless you show me yourself, I can’t – I can’t - ” He swallowed, trying to find a better, more gentlemanly way to say it, but he couldn’t and he ended up blurting out, “I can’t even think of letting you leave unless I get to watch you, as you, lose yourself to me. I know - I know that's wrong of me, I know I shouldn't ask this of you, but please - Angel, I have to see you. Switch back for me, please."

Hearing all this, you slowly opened your eyes.  You were barely there, to be honest, as you were completely fucked-out at this point, and all you could really comprehend was the intense thrumming of near-unbearable heat coursing through your body, only to coil up all tight and spark hotly in your pussy.  But you saw Cyrille’s pleading face and most of all, you saw his beautiful, shifting silver eyes, framed in his long silver lashes, and for the first time in a long while, you could read him a little – and you saw that he truly needed this from you.  Your right hand twitched tiredly in Cyrille’s. 

Just from that tiny movement, Cyrille knew what you meant.  He reached into your blazer pocket with one hand, and he pulled out your wand.  He helped you to grasp it, and, with your wand pressed to your chest, you exhaustedly murmured out the simple spell to switch your appearance back to your true physical self.

Cyrille breathed out in relief when he saw the disguise melt away to reveal you. 

Clatter. Your wand slipped from your hand, rolled off of your tummy, and fell onto the floor, as Cyrille greedily snaked his hand back into yours again.  Pinning you right back down, he growled, “Yes, there’s my girl.  Fuck, yes, you can take me now.”

“Ahhhh….! Ah, ah, ah! U-Uhn, C-Cy, ah, f-fuck, ah, ah, ah!” You couldn't believe that Cyrille could take you any more possessively than he already had been - clearly, you were wrong. He was thrusting into you so hard now that your thighs were lifting off the floor with every thrust you took, and your tummy was buckling in on itself, and you could even feel your shoulders and neck bending a little as he nearly folded you in half as he completely lost himself to fucking you senseless. And the heat - the fucking heat between your legs was unbelievable. This, you realized, is what it means to be utterly devoured, entirely ruined.

“Can’t – uhn – can’t believe you hid your – nngh -yourself from me,” Cyrille berated you, now holding you down by your shoulders as he pressed himself into you feverishly, needily.  “When all I wanted was this, was you – and I know you knew that, you fucking brat.” His breaths were coming out in harsh, furious pants now, as he worked himself furiously, almost too eagerly, for you – rewarding and punishing your pussy at the same time with his long, heavy, relentless thrusts. 

You gasped and moaned desperately, “Cy - ! I-I c-can’t – t-too -m-much – ah, ah, ah, p-please - ! CY - ! AH!”

With a loud groan mingling in with his raspy breaths, Cyrille slammed himself into you with everything he had –

“AHHH!” You broke.  Suddenly, while gripping Cyrille's shirt tightly on either side of you, you lifted your hips clean off the floor, arching your back, and with your legs shaking and pussy spasming all over Cyrille’s cock, you squirted yet again. 

“Angel – nngh - !” Cyrille cut off, when he felt your pussy squeeze him so tight it almost hurt.  Feeling you clamp on him, Cyrille instinctively responded and - Fuck! His heart leapt into his throat as he barely pulled out of you in time.  His cum spurted messily all over your thighs and tummy, and Cyrille groaned lowly as he felt himself release.  Ropes and ropes of his white, hot cum painted your thighs and tummy. Shit, I didn’t even – Fuck, I’ve never lost control like that – Cyrille thought dazedly to himself.  But to his shock, you also kept cumming, drenching the floor beneath you entirely with your sweet cum, while your tummy rippled and thighs shook and dripped with Cyrille’s cum. Cyrille's mouth fell open as he saw this incredible, stunning, vulnerable sight of you completely losing yourself, your tummy heaving, thighs shaking, pussy spasming and squirting - and then, your legs collapsed, and your hips dropped back down onto the floor.

“Hah… Ah… Hah….!” You panted breathlessly.  Oh… my… God… It took a moment for it to hit, for you to realize what you’d done.  But when it did – Oh my God, you thought again.  You brought your hands up and instantly covered your face, feeling completely humiliated at how you'd unraveled entirely before Cyrille. 

"Angel," Cyrille called to you softly.

You whimpered, and you shook your head, while keeping your face covered.

"Angel, let me see you." Cyrille grabbed your wrists gently, but he was firm as he pried your hands away from your face.  “Don’t hide from me. I need to make sure you're all right. Besides, you said you wanted me to look at you.”

But not… when I’m like this… You swallowed hard and turned your face away from Cyrille. As well, though it took you great effort in your current state, you shakily drew your legs together to try to hide how completely drenched your pussy was.

With a low hiss, Cyrille thrust his knee between yours, stopping you from closing your legs.  When you blinked up at him with a pitiful look on your face, and your face wet with tears, he shook his head at you.  Grasping your face tightly in his hand, with his fingers pressing into your blushing, tear-stained cheeks, he whispered, “You can’t scamper away like that, princess.  Not when it was your wish to have me look at you.  You have to let me take you in now, for me to fulfill that wish.”

You tried to shake your head, but you couldn’t with how tightly Cyrille was holding your face.  Finally, you bleated out, “P-Please… It’s – This is…”

“What?”

“…Humiliating,” you whispered, and tears escaped your eyes while your cheeks went beet red. 

Cyrille’s eyes turned cold as ice all of a sudden, as he realized more clearly what was going on with you. He murmured, almost detachedly, “It can feel that way, I suppose.  To be laid out so openly before someone else… But that’s the cost of being looked at. It's a small price to pay when it's between us, don't you think?”

“But not when it's like this,” you protested. “Because I’m a… a mess.” Even saying the words aloud, you felt more tears well up inside of you.

“And whose fault is that?” Cyrille replied immediately.  His eyes flickered up to you, and his gaze was such that you felt you had to look back, the way you felt you had to keep your eyes on a serpent, lest it strike the second you take your eyes off it. But then, once you locked eyes with him, Cyrille held your gaze almost dispassionately, as if he knew that giving you such a look would break you – and it did.

Completely overwhelmed by how he was not letting you slip by him, even a little, you started to openly cry. “Cy…” Your chest heaved as you sobbed.  To be clear, it wasn’t that you felt sad or hurt.  Not at all.  Rather, it was too much to have the person you loved seeing you at your most vulnerable state and even moreso when it was because of him. And it was one thing to turn a bit mindless because of sex, but you knew (and worse, you knew he knew) that it wasn't just because of the sex, but because, in his month-long absence, you'd grown so hungry for Cyrille that having sex with him triggered not just the usual mindlessness of intoxicating sex, but also triggered your deep, underlying desire to be loved by him. To let Cyrille see that he could affect you so much, it was scary and overwhelming, especially when you had tried so hard to act as if you weren’t affected at all this entire month and also because after you'd gotten your memories back, you felt such a deep guilt at forgetting Cyrille that subconsciously you had decided to only ever appear strong in front of him going forward, to never ask for his protection or help again to make up for those difficult years, and yet here you were, already needing him so badly that it turned you into a sobbing mess to be touched by him after being deprived of his touch for a mere month. That was what was truly humiliating - and Cyrille understood that now.

Realizing this, Cyrille knew that it was essential that he show you tonight that he wouldn’t judge you at all for needing him like this.  In fact, he loved you for it, and he was trying to show you that you didn’t need to hide this part of you for him.  I knew that Angel might do this, he thought, especially because after she got her memories back, she felt she needed to apologize to me.  I knew she’d try to act completely strong afterwards and to try to hide her misplaced guilt towards me for forgetting me for these past years.  She really is foolish in that way, because she has nothing to apologize to me for, and she certainly doesn’t need to act strong in front of me.  She is strong, stronger than anyone can ever understand, stronger than I could ever be, and I know that already.  I’ve never doubted that.  But if she still needs me, in her own way – that’s what I want her to feel and to show me.  That’s why she needs to know, in this moment, that I am looking at her. And I need her to know this absolutely, so I can't let her hide or slip away from me now. Or else she'll think I didn't judge her only because she managed to hide some part of her now, and I can't have that. I don't want her to doubt, even a little, my love for her. After all, our situation already requires us to keep so much distance from each other that, if left unresolved, these doubts will gnaw away at us relentlessly. I can't let it be that I am the reason for Angel's pain or loneliness. I can't let that happen, even if I'm not allowed to give her all the happiness and love I so desperately want to.

Cyrille kept looking at you, not letting you escape him even a little, as tears continued to slip down your face. But Cyrille waited for you - his gaze still cold, almost snake-like, and yet, as time passed, you realized that there was no irritation or impatience or disregard for you, either. He truly was... simply watching you. Waiting for you. Regarding you - without any judgment. Slowly, your tears began to stop, and you began to get your breath back. Finally, you calmed down enough to let out a real, long breath, and you shut your eyes tightly as you came back to yourself.

There. Now, I can tell her, and I think she'll hear me. A note of tenderness entered his voice, finally, and his strict, almost cold demeanor melted away entirely as Cyrille told you, “Now, my love, brand this moment in your mind.  Feel it, feel how I’m looking at you, how I’ve fallen so deeply for you that nothing you do could ever change the fact that I'm in love with you, how I’m claiming you as mine because I am the only one who will ever get to see you like this.  Ever.”  He reached down and slid his hand gently under your neck.  With his other hand, he caressed your face gently as he whispered, “I’m looking at you, my love.  Same way I’ve been looking at you all these years.”

At this, you finally opened your eyes - and you met his gaze and held it, no longer feeling embarassed or ashamed. 

Cyrille smiled softly at you.  “You understand now, don’t you?  There’s nothing to be ashamed of before me.  I love you, angel, and there is nothing as enticing to me as seeing you open your heart before me.”

You stared up at him, slowly feeling his words sink into your ears and your heart.

“You started to trust me more once you got your memories back," he murmured.  "And I know that trust has withdrawn a little this past month, in my absence.”

“No, Cy, it's not your fault. That's not what I mean, not at all,” you whispered.

But Cyrille said gently, “Not in your mind, maybe.  But in your body, instinctively, it might have.  It’s only natural, angel.  I should have been there for you.  I know that.  I’ve thought it every day since we’ve had to stay apart again.”

Though you still felt a little fuzzy and weak, you managed to reach up and press your fingers against Cyrille’s cheek, too.  “But I couldn’t keep away from you, Cy… I’m sorry. I was so foolish, risking your safety to come find you this way.”

Cyrille shook his head.  “No, don’t you see?  I’m glad, beyond belief, that you came to me tonight.  The fact that you did it in such a bold way is what makes me nervous.  But… by needing me, by coming to see me – don’t you see you’ve saved me too?  I need you too.  Couldn't you feel that when I begged you to transform back to yourself? I begged you, my love, because I needed to see you. I couldn't go without seeing my angel. And I nearly - At the end, I almost lost control - Anyways, that’s what I’m trying to tell you right now: I look at you as much, as deeply, as wantingly as you look at me.  It might not be in the same way, but…” His voice trailed off.

“But…” you whispered back. And then you realized it, and you said it aloud - "You love me, too."

Cyrille kissed you, and it was the sweetest confirmation and reassurance you could have asked for.  With his hand tucked under your neck, he lifted your head a little, just enough for you to breathe out – and then his lips met yours, and you sank yet again into another mindless, warm sensation– but this time, instead of sending you higher and higher, it let you land softly, let you come home. 

Cyrille shifted, lying down beside of you. Then, wrapping his arms gently around you, he brought you in to him, so that you were lying half on top of him, and half tucked into his side. For a moment, the two of you simply lay there, breathing together, in this unearthly, dark, secret room.

“Where are we?” you murmured softly, staring up at the ceiling, which you now recognized was made of stone.

“The old trophy room, I think,” Cyrille answered.  He reached out and grabbed your wand, which was on the floor beside him.  He murmured, “Incendio” and four torches, in each corner of the room, blazed to life.

"It's a perfect space for us," you said.

"Mm, I suppose so," Cyrille agreed.

You snuggled into him again, with your face pressed against his shoulder.  You closed your eyes and drifted off for a little while, sinking into a sweet, calm sleep that had evaded you for so long now.

Without disturbing you, Cyrille managed to grab his shirt, which was beside you, off of the floor and drape it over you.  Gazing down at you, his heart swelled with happiness as he took in the sight of you – the real you.  So beautiful, he thought.  Even more beautiful than before, and I didn’t think that was possible.  I wasn’t lying when I said that she got softer and sweeter in the month we’ve been apart. 

After a few minutes, you stirred, opening your eyes.  You smiled softly when you caught Cyrille looking at you.

But Cyrille frowned.  He touched your face, running his thumb gently over the dark circles under your eyes. “I wondered if these dark circles were simply because of how dark it was in here or some strange effect of your disguise, but it wasn’t.  Are you not sleeping well, angel?”

Your insomnia was such a fact of life for you right now that you replied easily, in a calm, factual tone, “I’m not sleeping at all these days.”

“What...?” 

“I’m too busy dreaming of you every night.”

Cyrille paused.  You wondered for a minute if he’d be pleased to hear this, and you waited for his arrogant smirk to appear – but no, he merely sighed and said, “Honestly, where do you come up with these lines?  Did you pick up another Muggle book with more sappy romanticisms?”

You giggled at this.  No, you thought fondly, it turns out I don’t need to read any love stories to come up with such sappy lines for you, because I’m already living my own love story with you - the good and the bad, the light and the dark. It's not easy to be together, I realize, and it'll only get harder as time goes on, but I can't help it - you're my heart.  

Cyrille’s eyes softened when he saw you laugh.  He lifted his head a little to kiss you on the forehead.  “Angel,” he breathed out, “how I’ve missed you so…” But then, his voice became a tad stonier, as he told you, “But we’ll have to work out a system to communicate for next time, all right?  No more marching into the Slytherin common room with my family crest dangling from your wrist, all right?”

“All right,” you promised him easily.  

Cyrille shot you a slightly skeptical look, not trusting the light, breezy way in which you’d answered him and trusting even less the bright smile appearing on your face now.

Grinning, you took Cyrille's face in both of your hands and peppered his cheeks with light, gentle kisses. 

Despite himself, Cyrille melted for you. Shit, he realized, if we ever do get to live together properly, I can already see that angel's going to win every single argument we ever have. He let out a soft breath, but at the same time, he couldn't help but smile, loving your kisses and loving being with you again.

Meanwhile, as you pressed your lips against his cheek, you whispered fervently in your mind, Thank you, Cy.  Thank you for letting me admit that I need you, and loving me for it, instead of making me regret it.  You always know just how to love me, even when I'm not sure of it myself.  I love you.  I love you so very much.  And I'll be there for you, too. I promise I will.  

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

After that night, you and Cyrille returned to keeping your distance from each other.  However, the two of you managed to sneak in little moments to love and tease each other now and then - to remind each other that you were both always looking at each other, as it were, even when you had to feign otherwise. 

For example, the very next morning, you went to Amelia before breakfast and announced, “I want that beard now!” Hestia threw her pillow at you, annoyed that you'd woken her up before her usual time, but as it was, Amelia was already up and ready for the day and she was more than happy to comply with your request.

Sporting a fantastic beard that rivaled Dumbledore’s, you marched down to breakfast and strutted right in front of the Slytherin table, where Cyrille was sitting with his usual Slytherin crew.  Spotting you, Cyrille accidentally spat his pumpkin juice right onto Yaxley.

Three days later, while you were waiting in front of the Herbology greenhouse, waiting for the door to open, you felt someone swipe their fingers lightly over your shoulder.  Surprised, you looked over your shoulder to see Cyrille right behind you.  “Oh, sorry, I thought you had a raven on your shoulder,” he murmured lowly – and then he was gone, already back with his Slytherin group, who were all heading down to Care of Magical Creatures.  You were left there, blushing, as you knew immediately that he was referring to the intense love mark he’d left on your shoulder.

Another two days after that, you spotted Cyrille studying by himself at the back of the library.  You knew he did this so that he could study Healing Magic by himself.  After telling your friends that you needed to pick up a book, you crept over to him, ducking behind bookshelves as you made your way, row by row, to him.  Finally, when you were close enough, you pretended to walk right past him, only you dropped your quill in front of him.  “Oops,” you murmured, and you bent down to pick up your quill – only, right before you came up, you pressed your shoulder into his knee.

Cyrille stared down at you with a puzzled look, but then you looked up at him, and he realized that you’d opened your button-up shirt just enough that it showed your shoulder and the love mark he’d left there, still going strong.  As you got up, you purposefully pressed your hand into his thigh meaningfully - He stiffened at once, but you were already gone, having picked up your quill and dashed away. But Cyrille heard the little laugh that left you, and while it warmed his heart, it also riled him up as well.

Sure enough, Cyrille made you pay for this little tease – a week later, Cyrille managed (and you had no idea how he did this) to catch you right after you finished Potions down in the dungeons, and he somehow managed to smuggle you away without anyone noticing, back into that secret underwater room, where he pinned you up against the cold window, stuffed a strawberry in your mouth, and warned you that if you let it fall before he'd finished with you, you'd be punished - right before he ripped open your button-up and began kissing you all over, giving you matching love marks on not only your other shoulder, but also your breasts, tummy, and thighs – and then, once he had you gasping and covered in his love marks – he left you there, all undone and with quivering thighs, while he smoothed back his silver hair, slung his book bag easily over his shoulder, and then strolled right out.  As the door started to shut behind him, you heard him say tauntingly, “Just a little something for you to dream about, princess.”  Your mouth fell open in disbelief, and the strawberry hit the ground. Cyrille chuckled lowly - and then the door swung shut.

You remembered when the Idris family, a prominent half-blood family that had risen in the ranks of the Ministry over the years, adopted their youngest son, although you never actually met him until a few years later. 

You knew about this before it was publicly known because you were friends with their oldest son, Demian.  You recalled asking him, “Well, how is it, having a new younger brother?”

Demian shrugged.  “I already have two of them.  What’s a third?”

You giggled, for it was true.  Demian was now the oldest of four sons, and his temperament showed it – responsible and slightly weary, and he expected to be heard and obeyed.

“Still.”  You looked over at him.  “What’s he like?”

Demian stated, quite matter-of-factly,  “Younger than me, that’s all you need to know.”

“Wow.  You’re seriously a party-pooper.”

Demian raised his arms in the air and, with a completely deadpan voice and expression, let out a sarcastic, “Whoopie.”

You burst out laughing.

Demian sighed, but he let you have your moment and simply gazed at you as you clutched onto your sides and doubled over with laughter.

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

Even now, when the two of you were at the Ministry and Demian came over to you during lunch break, you knew what he wanted just from the way he tapped the side of your cubicle wall and looked down at you.

“Oh, fine.”  You got up from your seat with a sigh.  “But I only have twenty minutes.”

“I have the same lunch break as you, you know.  You have an hour.”

“But I still have to draft up that report for Mr. Prewitt.”

Demian waved his hand in the air dismissively.  “I’ll tell him to leave you alone.”

“No, don’t.  Your favoritism only makes my life here worse.  Because – well, did you know?”  You shot him a smirk as you teased him, “Everyone here hates you.”

Demian rolled his eyes at you.  “Whatever.” 

You were walking in front of him, but Demian stopped you by reaching out and grabbing your arm.  “Hey, where are you going?”

“To the supply closet.”

“The supply closet?  No way, we’re going to my office.”

“But then it’s too obvious,” you pointed out.  “If anyone were to see or hear anything, they’d know it was you, and they could probably guess that it was me.”

Demian smirked.  “Yeah, they probably could.  I don’t mind.” 

"But I do," you shot back immediately.

"Tough luck," Demian said, equally as fast. With that, he dragged you over to his office.

You sighed.  “You know, I don't get you sometimes. You never ask me out on dates and I never go over to your place.  We only meet up here. Does the office turn you on or something?”

“And if it does?”  Demian pulled you into his office. He closed and locked the door behind him.

You scoffed.  “You’re a creep.”

“Says the girl who left teeth marks on my tie.” 

“Well,” you mused, “it was a nice tie, and I didn’t like seeing a scumbag like you wearing it.”

“Scumbag, huh?”  With that, Demian pinned you against the door, grasped the back of your neck, and kissed you hard.

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

“Ah… Mm – mmpfh - ”

Still trading heavy kisses, pieces of clothing began to flutter off.  And slowly but surely, Demian dragged you over to his desk.  He then unzipped your skirt, yanked it rather rudely off of you, and threw it aside. You scolded him, “Can’t you be a little nicer?”

“Mm,” was all Demian said, as he used his foot to make you spread your feet apart.  For a moment, you caught sight of your heels slipping apart, moved by his leather shoe easily pushing your feet apart. Then, Demian put his hand down against the small of your back and pushed you down over his desk. 

The next second, you felt him rip your tights open.

“Demian!” you scolded him.

“For all your worry about us getting caught, you’re doing a real good job of making sure we’re heard,” Demian remarked wryly.  He spit in his hand and then, yanking your panties to the side, he rubbed you hard.

“Ah… S-Slower,” you said.

“Godric, you’re fussy,” Demian muttered, but he did as you said and slowed down a little. 

“Mm…” You pushed your hips back on him, rubbing yourself against his hand.  You felt the cold metal of his expensive watch press against your ass a little as you went back-and-forth.

Demian gazed down at you, enjoying the little show you were giving him as you shifted hungrily against his hand.  “You’re saying slower, but look at you.”  He swallowed, suddenly unexpectedly tense.  Then, feeling as though it was your fault for making him feel so tense already, he reached down with his other hand and – slap!

“Nngh!” you groaned, as he spanked you hard.

“Fuck, I forget how pretty you are until I have you like this,” Demian breathed out, and his voice suddenly turned quite raspy. 

“What d’you mean?” you mumbled, as you kept working yourself against his hand.  “You see my face in the office every day.”

Demian smirked.  “Not quite what I was referring to, doll.”

“What are you saying?” you mumbled out.  “My pussy’s prettier than my face?”

“Something like that.”

You scowled at him, looking at him up over your shoulder.  “You’re such a dick!”

Slap! 

“Ow!” You shivered as Demian spanked you again.

“Don’t get distracted,” Demian hissed at you.  “You need to cum, fast, so I can fuck you. After all, you've the one who asked for time to write up your report.” He snickered at the last part, finding it humorous how seriously you took your work.

“Ugh, you ass,” you muttered.  But you did as he said and you concentrated on getting yourself there.  Your thighs and abs tensed, and you dragged yourself over his hand.  “Oh… Mm!” You let out a tight little sound as you came a little on his hand.

“You’re wet?  Good.  Now, on your knees.”  Before you even had a chance to do it yourself, Demian grabbed you by your hair and yanked you off of his desk.

“Just give me a - ” you started, but by then, you’d already been forced down to your knees and Demian had already unzipped his pants and pulled out his cock.  “Sheesh,” you complained.  “Eager, are we?”

“Yeah, I am,” Demian said easily.  “I want to be inside you.”

Hearing this, you couldn’t help but look up at him.  I mean, he is an ass, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want him inside me, too.  Sitting on your knees, looking up at him, you opened your mouth for him.

Demian reached down and slid his hand around the back of your neck.  He began to guide you forward when he paused to run his thumb along your lips.  “No lipstick?”

You frowned.  “Since when the hell have I worn lipstick?”

“Oh yeah, that was that other girl,” Demian said, taking his hand away.  “Kind-of a shame, I like seeing lipstick marks on my cock and lipstick smeared on my lover’s face.”

You rolled your eyes at him.  “Shut your mouth, you ass.”

“I will, if you keep yours open,” Demian bargained and then –

“Mmpfh!”  A muffled gasp left you as Demian shoved his cock into your mouth.

“Take it, take it,” Demian growled, shoving his hips forward already.

You whimpered as his cock filled up your mouth so fast and pushed at the back of your throat. Ah… I can’t - ! Your hands came up and slapped against his thighs for a moment.  

“C’mon, breathe through your nose,” Demian reminded you, seeing you struggling a little. “You know how to do this, you did it before.”

“Mm, mm, mmmm!” was your gagged response.  You squeezed your eyes shut and focused on breathing through your nose.  Ah… Fuck, he’s big, he’s so big.

“There you go,” Demian said, feeling you open up for him a little.  He smirked at you, and then, fisting your hair at the back, he held your head firmly in place as he roughly fucked your little mouth.  “Uhn, fuck,” he groaned deeply, “yes, stay right there.”

“Nngh – mm – mmpfh!”  Garbled noises spilled out of your mouth, and your eyes welled with tears as you took him repeatedly in your mouth. And he was getting harder and bigger by the second.  Finally, you tore your head away and fell to your side on the floor, gasping for breath. 

“Fuck, puppy,” Demian said, breathing heavily now.  He stared down at you on the floor.  “That was so good.”  He fisted his wet, thick, veiny cock a few times in his hand, still staring down at you.  “Reckon you deserve a fucking creampie for that, huh?”

You scoffed a little, though Demian didn't hear it amidst all of your gasps. We both know that he won't cum inside of me, and yet, he has that weird breeding kink thing. I really don't get it, but whatever. I know he won't ever really do it, so who cares?

Demian reached down and, sliding one arm under your shoulder, he easily picked you up and set you on your feet.  He wasted no time in guiding himself to you, gripping your little hips tightly in his broad hands, and then fucking his cock right into you.

“Ah!” You gasped and jolted forward. 

Demian tsk’ed at you, and he yanked you right back.  He tried again – you felt the tip of his cock push into you, and you moaned lowly, but then you felt him start to thrust, only you weren’t quite relaxed enough just yet, and he couldn’t push into you so easily.  He growled and made to thrust harder, but you tripped forward a little.  With a soft thud, you landed on the mirror hung up on the wall.

Oh, it’s so cold…! You shivered all over, and then shivered even more when Demian impatiently pressed into you from behind, pinning you down to try to still you to take his cock.  This time, when he pushed into you, there was a bit of resistance with your tight, clenched walls – but he growled, dug his nails into you, and kept pushing right through –

“Ah!” you gasped loudly, squirming hard against the mirror.  “Ah – D-Demian!  Ah!”

Demian groaned long and loud.  Your hot, tight walls felt like fucking heaven to him as he sank (well, bullied rather) his cock deep into you.

“Demian!” you cried out loudly.

But Demian barely heard you.  His head lolled back and he let out a deep breath of relief as he felt your pussy flutter, clench, and spasm all over his cock.  “Yeah, like that, just like that,” he breathed out slowly.  “Mm…”

You whimpered and blearily opened your eyes – only to see, to your shock, that you were completely pressed up against the mirror.  Fog was forming on the glass all around your silhouette, including your shapely little body and your hands, and around your mouth as well as you panted heavily.  You could just make out in the reflection Demian’s face, and how he was exhaling heavily as he buried his entire cock inside of you.

That arrogant bastard, you thought furiously, always just thinking about himself.  You opened your mouth to say something when – “Uhn!”

Demian chose that moment to thrust his hips forward, pulling out of you all the way only to slam himself back into you again. 

“O-Oh my G-God,”  you stuttered out.  You were shivering all over the glass, shifting your hips this way and that, subconsciously doing anything you could to create some movement on his cock to ease you open a bit more.  But, your body had other ways of helping you to accommodate him and the next moment –

Splash…!

Demian paused.  He opened his eyes and looked down.  “Fuck,” he growled harshly, realizing what had happened.  “Did you just squirt on me?”

What? You opened your eyes and, still trembling all over, you looked down at yourself.  Sure enough, the carpet under you was wet and your thighs were dripping, even soaking into your ripped tights.

Demian laughed lowly, though the sound was a bit breathless.  “Well, fuck, you are just a perfect little sex doll, aren’t you?  Making yourself all wet like that, you’re just inviting me to fuck you as hard as I want, aren’t you?”

“N-No…” you stuttered out.

“What do you mean, ‘no?’” Demian said.  Leaning forward, he trapped you against the mirror, pinning your hands under his and pressing down on you, so that you could feel his chest covering the whole of your back.  Like that, he fucked his cock back inside of you.

“Ah!” A gasp ripped from your throat.  

This time, Demian kept going, thrusting into you at a rough, steady pace.  Fwop, fwop, fwop - squelch, squelch, squelch...!

“You hear that?  You hear how fucking sloppy your little pussy got for me? Hm?” Demian murmured lowly in your ear.  “And you still want to pretend like you don’t want this?  Like you don’t want me?”

“That’s not – I’m not - ”  You tried your best to protest, to fire back a strong remark at him, but your words kept falling apart because with every thrust, he was pushing you into the mirror and basically fucking every breath out of you.

“That’s right,” Demian said, and a few deep chuckles broke his rough, hard pants, as he told you meanly, “You just shut the fuck up and take my cock, like a good little girl.”

“Nngh, no…” you bleated out.  But you couldn’t quite seem to get your defenses together.  Everything was becoming such a hot, hazy mess, and your entire body was starting to get quite feverish, and well, that feeling between your legs, it was rising higher and higher, getting into your lower tummy, and before you knew it, you were rocking back against him, taking his cock like the ‘good little girl’ he said you were.

“Yeah, there you go,” Demian purred in your ear.  “Fuck yourself back on my cock, mm, yeah, you look so good when you do that, baby.”

“Hah… Ah… Mmm…!” you moaned loudly, your open mouth panting and pressed to the mirror.  Condensation gathered on the glass right next to your lips, until little droplets of water streaked down the mirror.

Smack, smack, smack – Demian wasn’t letting up at all, and he found himself craving you even more, even though he was already inside you.  And so he pushed into you harder, faster, deeper –

“Uhn! N-Ngh! Ah!”

“Ah, fuck,” Demian breathed out.  “So w-wet, but still – so - tight - ” he grunted.  He rammed his hips forward and cursed through gritted teeth, “Fuck!”  

Your hips slammed into the mirror.  You let out a soft cry, and you suddenly crumpled to the floor, sliding right down the mirror.  Demian’s eyes widened as he saw that you had left a perfect imprint of yourself in the mirror, and you’d left streaks from your hands and breasts in the fog as you fell.

My God… His cock throbbed heavily.  “Get up,” he said shortly. 

“Just g-give me a m-moment,” you said, panting heavily.  “Ah…” You fell onto your back and your thighs came apart a little, and Demian caught a glimpse of your sweet, milky inner thighs and your blushing, pink pussy, all framed in the ragged edges of the black stockings he’d ripped earlier.

Kneeling down, Demian slid his arms under you and lifted you up. 

“Ah, Demian…” you breathed out tiredly, instinctively clutching onto the front of his shirt to make sure you didn’t fall away from his arms.

Demian brought you over to his desk and dumped you right on top of it.  “Wake up,” he told you.  “I can’t wait around for you all day now, can I?  Besides…” he reached down and stroked your clit with the tip of his forefinger.

“Ah…” You shivered and you reached down and pushed his hand away.  Don’t…!  I’m so sensitive down there right now.

Demian smirked.  “Think your pussy needs me right about now.”

At this, you managed to mutter, “Godric, you’re full of yourself.”

“Am I?” Demian said nonchalantly, clearly not really asking at all.

“Yeah, you think you’re such a bad boy, but your ego is so much bigger than your cock,” you threw at him.  “It’s annoying.”

There, take that, you thought to yourself, pleased that you were finally able to string together a coherent insult for him.

Demian lifted his eyebrow at you.  “You sure about that?  Because you’re struggling quite a bit to take me right now.”

“I am not.”

“Right.”  Demian stepped forward.  He laid his hand out on your lower tummy, pressing down on you to keep you still.  Then, he guided himself to you and started to push in roughly.  “So, if I do this - ”

“Ah!”  Your hand shot out and pressed against his thighs, as a bolt of electricity suddenly ran through you.  “A-Ah, wait, w-wait…!”

“That’s what I thought,” Demian said, quite satisfied.  He reached over and grabbed your chin and made you look up at him.  “So you keep your mouth shut and stop your stupid little commentary of me, and you just focus on getting stuffed, yeah?”

Demian let you go, and you fell back over onto the table, and your thighs naturally fell apart onto the table too.  He grasped your hips tightly in his hands, squeezing until his fingers left imprints on your soft, supple skin, yanked you right to the edge of your desk – and then he started to take you in earnest, setting a fast, hard pace from the start.

“Ah…!” you moaned.  Your hands balled into fists, crumpling the papers on top of his desk.  “Ah, ah, ah!”

Demian let out a loud, satisfied groan, as he fucked his cock deep into you over and over again.  “Mm, God, your pussy swallows up my cock so well, baby.  Fuck, are you sure you’re not in love with me?”

“N-No, n-never – ah!”

“Then how you come you’re so much tighter and wetter than everyone else, huh?  You saying you’re like this for other men, too?”

In truth, you weren’t having sex with anyone else.  But you retorted, through tight pants, “M-Mhm!”

Demian hissed, “Lying.  You’re fucking lying, baby, and that’s a bad habit to get into.  I would know.”  He thrust forward, and his balls slammed into your cunt while his cock pierced through you so deep.  He groaned heavily, and his groan was accompanied by your raspy, pretty little moan of “ah!”

“God damn it,” Demian growled suddenly.  He grabbed you just below your shoulders and yanked you up.  You stumbled slightly, but you managed to sit up properly.  He demanded, “Sit up, sit right up at the edge, and open your fucking legs for me, as far as they go.  If I’m ever going to fuck a baby in someone, it’s going to be you, and it’s going to be right now.”

You were breathing so hard that your breasts were rising and falling with every breath, not to mention your tummy rippling both with the effort of breathing and you taking such a demanding, rough pounding.  Even now, Demian was firmly splitting apart your thighs, until you were completely open and offering yourself to him, your pink little pussy right there on the edge of the table, just waiting to be fucked by him again.

You swallowed hard and shut your eyes.  Demian bit down on his lower lip and made to enter you again when –

Knock, knock, knock. 

“Sir?  Your dry cleaning is here.”

Your eyes widened in shock.  You hurriedly put your hand over your mouth to cover the sounds of your heavy pants.

Demian stopped, but, seeing how panicked you were, he chuckled softly.  Still keeping his hands on your ankles, holding you wide open for him, he called out casually, “Yeah, just leave it on my doorknob.”  At the same time, he adjusted himself, positioning himself so that the tip of his cock was lined up with your pussy hole.  Then, Demian slid his hands down your hips and he gripped your ass, holding you right where he wanted you and anchoring you to that edge of the table.  He inhaled sharply and then -

You hissed in a fervent whisper, “Are you cra – uhn!”

Your moan punctured the air, as Demian thrust his cock heavily back into your sweet little cunt.

“Sir?” the person at the door called.

You hurriedly bit into the back of your hand to cut off your moan.

“Nothing,” Demian called back.  “Just dropped something.  Thank you for your service.  I’ll come out and grab the dry cleaning later.”

“Yes, sir.  I’ll hang it on the doorknob now.”

Laughing quietly but in ragged, breathless tones, Demian squeezed his hands against your plush ass, bringing you tight to him and making you take him all the way. 

“Ah - ah - s-stop…!” you hissed at him.

Demian shot you a smirk before he buried his face against your neck and then, with a muffled low groan of his own, he kept going, working his hips fervently to fuck his cock back inside of you, trying to reach your core, your cervix, maybe even your womb.

“Mm – hhngh – a-ah – mm, no, mm - !”  The most desperate, tiny moans were spilling from your lips, despite the fact that you were pressing your hand against your mouth to shut yourself up as hard as you could.

“Um, sir…” Whoever was outside now seemed a bit reluctant to keep speaking with Demian.

Demian breathed out heavily, “Yeah?” while he kept going, trying his best to get your little pussy to finally take him all the way and let him bottom out in you.

“Uh, I’m all done here, so – so I’ll leave you.”

“Very - " Demian coughed before he managed to call out in a relatively normal voice, "Very good."  He chanced a glance at you – only to find your face completely red, your eyes squeezed tight, your teeth gritted together, and your forehead all messy with sweat, with your fringe plastered across your forehead.  Demian smiled to himself.  Ah, it’s all worth it, he thought to himself.  To have her like that.  Who the fuck cares if they know?

Footsteps sounded out as the person at the door finally walked away.

“Hah… Ah…!” Finally letting your hand fall away, you gasped loudly, sucking in and exhaling air as if you’d been underwater for far too long. 

Demian laughed at you.  “You stayed quieter than I expected.  Pity, I wanted the whole office to find out that you’re my woman.”

“Seriously!” you said, bright red in the face.  You were beyond annoyed with him.  Hitting him in the chest with your fists, you let your grievances be known.  “You’re such an ass!”

“I know,” Demian said simply, and then – he pushed you back down on the table.  He grabbed and tossed off the hell on your left foot.  He bit at the stocking at your ankle and turned his head quickly and – ripppp – it tore open. 

“What are you - ?” you started, confused.  You shifted up onto your elbows to watch Demian.

Demian grabbed your ankle with his hand and then, he slipped his mouth onto your toes and started sucking at them.

You blinked.  What the hell is he doing?  He’s never done this before.

Still sucking on your toes, Demian reached down with his other hand and gripped your waist again, with his fingers molding onto the familiar bruises beginning to blossom on your skin.  Then, he pushed into you again.

“Ahh!” You fell onto your back.  Ah, fuck, I don’t know if it’s because we kept starting and stopping more than we usually do, but I… I feel so desperate for him right now.  I need him to take me.  I wouldn’t admit it, but I… My pussy is so, so hot, and it needs to be filled… with him.  I need… him…

Thankfully, even without you having to beg or do anything you’d hate to do before him, you were getting your wish fulfilled.  He was taking you for all he was worth now, yanking at your hip with every thrust to make sure he was sheathing himself inside of you all the way, every time, while he grunted and groaned with your toes still in his mouth.  Finally, he bit down on your toe –

You gasped –

And then, with a strong, heavy growl that rumbled through his chest, Demian finished.  For a second, you really thought he might cum inside of you – and your heart leapt to your throat – but then, he pulled out at the very last moment and instead finished in a far safer, though much more annoying, way.  He intentionally came all over your clothes, making sure your face and hair were spattered with his cum and then ensuring that your button-up top was all messy with him. 

Your mouth dropped open in indignation.  “You - !”

“If you call me an ass one more time, you’ll find my cock filling yours in about a second,” Demian said, as he finally released you and stepped back.  Breathing out, he reached up and pushed his now-messy hair off of his sweaty forehead.

“Well, what the hell am I supposed to do now? “ you griped. “Go work covered in your cum?

All Demian threw back at you was a nonchalant, “Sure, why not?

“Seriously, Demian!”  You reached up and used your sleeve to wipe his cum off of your face. 

Demian rolled his eyes at you.  “Calm down.  Your shirt from last time is in the dry cleaning.  Just go grab it and change into it when you leave.”

Oh.  Right.  I forgot that I left my shirt here last time, too.  That was late at night, when we were the only two in the office, and he came on my shirt that time, too, so I just bundled myself up in my blazer, coat, and scarf and booked it home. You remembered that last time. The two of you had been tipsy and he’d been a bit gentler than usual… And you'd responded quite well to that, you had.

“What?” Demian said bluntly, seeing you just sitting there.  “You want to go another round?  We have - ” he checked his watch – “forty minutes, still.”

“No,” you said quietly.  “I told you, I still have to write up that report.”

“Then, get out of here.”  He reached up and readjusted his tie and then folded his cuffs neatly again. 

In silence, you took your tights off and threw them in the trash.  Then, you shimmied your skirt back on.  Finally, you headed for the door, only to pause and murmur quietly,  “Demian.”

“What?” he said, without looking at you.  He was already back at his desk and, with a simple flick of his wand, the crumpled papers disappeared.  He pulled the nearest folder to him, opened it, and began to read it. 

You hesitated by the doorway.  Your hand was on the doorknob but you weren’t turning it just yet.   

“What?” he pressed, slightly irritated.

“Can you come here?”

With a sigh, he got up from his desk and walked over to you.  “What do you want?”

You reached out and grabbed his tie – and then, you pulled at it, tugging him towards you. 

Demian exhaled sharply in surprise.  He threw his hands out before he could fall into you, and his hands slammed onto the door on either side of you.  His surprise quickly gave way to irritation.  Scowling at you, he started to say, “What’re you playing - ?”

You cut him short as you kissed him.  You held onto his tie tightly, but with your other hand, you caressed his face and then let your hand slide into his short, styled hair. 

“What the - ? Mmpfh…” Taken aback, Demian stayed completely still. 

“Open your mouth,” you whispered to him.  “Just a little…”

He paused, and his brow furrowed.  But then he acquiesced, parting his lips a little.

You pushed your mouth against his again, and you moaned softly when your lips slotted together.  “Mm…”

Demian was still for a moment longer, but then, he put his hands on you once more, but slowly this time…  He let his hands slowly, almost carefully, feel up your waist all over before he finally grasped your waist tightly with both of his hands.  She’s so little, huh, he found himself musing, as he realized how easily his hands held you.  He leaned forward slightly, pressing you into the door a bit, and the kiss became deeper, heavier, a bit sloppier…  You felt him start to pant against you, and slightly wet sounds sounded out as both of your lips were now wet from kissing each other, and now your kisses had increasingly more tonguing and sucking involved.

Having her like this... She tastes... so sweet, Demian thought to himself. But why did she make me do this? Why are we kissing like this?

Demian whispered harshly, with his mouth still pressed against yours such that you felt his lips press slightly into yours with every word he spoke, "You trying to get me all riled up for another round before you go?"

You paused. Then, shaking your head, you finally let go of his tie and put your hand against his chest, pushing him away from you a bit.  “Okay, that’s enough… I have to get back now.”

Demian stayed where he was for a beat longer, however, just holding you and, to be truthful, struggling a little with whatever spell you’d just cast on him.  But his hesitation only lasted a moment, and he quickly let you go.  As he turned away from you, hiding his face, all he said in a quiet murmur was, “Remember your shirt.”

“Sure,” you said, and you gave him a soft smile as you disappeared out the door.    

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

As soon as you closed the door behind you, Demian reached up and pushed a few strands of hair back from his forehead, which had fallen out of its usual style when you’d been touching his hair as you kissed him.  Fuck, he thought to himself, what was that?  That witch. He thoughtlessly passed the back of his hand over his lips. He swore they were still tingling a little.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the door, you rifled through the dry cleaning.  First, you pulled out and tucked your shirt under your arm to take it back.  Next, after checking that no one was in the hallway at that moment, you picked out and quickly slipped into one of Demian’s stupidly fancy shirts.  It was absurdly large on you, but you managed by tucking the shirt in at your waistband and rolling up the sleeves.  Finally, you took the rest of his dry cleaning and then unceremoniously dumped it into the supply closet you’d mentioned before. 

Wiltshire, England.  Malfoy Estate.  1920. 

“If Armand gets another hound within a week, I win a Sickle.  If he doesn’t, you win three Sickles.  How does that sound?”

“Young Master, I hardly think it is appropriate to bet with you.”

“Would you prefer I follow Brutus’s footsteps and take my bets out to the seedy bars of London?”

“No, absolutely not. You know how much Brutus's antics pain us, sir.”

“Then you’d best entertain my wager.”

You looked up from the fireplace you were dusting and spotted Abraxas, the third son of the Malfoy family, walking with Yoav, the head of the servants.  The two of them were crossing the long hallway leading past the parlor you were cleaning.

Yoav murmured uncomfortably, “But, young master, you hardly need more gold - ”

“Of course I don’t.  Do you even need to say that? That wasn’t the point of the bet, obviously.”

“Then what is, sir?”

“The point is that I am bored out of my mind, Yoav, and I shall put my wand to my head and Avada Kedavra my miserable, corrupted brains out - ”

“Young master, please!”

“ – if I don’t do something to entertain myself."

"Really, you are too much, sir." 

"All right, how about this?  If I win, you shall find a way to suggest to Armand that his new dog shall be named Amelie, after my very own mother - ”

“Sir!  Madame Malfoy sharing a name with a dog - ”

“A bitch, if you will."

"Sir!" 

"Meanwhile, if you win, I shall pay you five hundred Galleons.”

“Please stop jesting - ”

“I’m not jesting.  I’m not fucking jesting, Yoav.”

You paused as you saw the two of them walk right past the open door to the parlor without noticing you.  You quietly came to the doorway and peeked out, watching them continue down the hallway.

Abraxas pressed, “So, do we have a deal?”

“I – I - ”  Yoav sighed heavily.  “Fine, sir, if you insist.  And I shall pray to Merlin that you forget we ever made this ridiculous deal.”

“Excellent, you do that.”  Abraxas playfully put his arm around Yoav’s shoulders.  “You know, Yoav, you may just be my favorite man on this entire estate, I hope you know that.”

“Please don’t say that, sir.  Your father and brothers - ”

“Are all foul bastards just like me.  Don’t look at me like that, Yoav.  I know you’re not allowed to say that, but I am.”

“And now you have.  So, please, let’s be done with this.” 

Abraxas suddenly stopped in the hallway. As he was still holding onto Yoav, Yoav also came to an abrupt halt.  “You know what I’m sensing, Yoav?”

“Nothing good, I suspect.”

“I am sensing that though you are my favorite man in this household, I am not yours.  Would that be right?”

“Young master, please - ”

Abraxas stepped away from Yoav and pretended to clutch at his heart.  Keeling over, he sighed, “You didn’t deny it.  You should have, at once, if only to spare my feelings. Oh, I’m hurt.  I’m criminally hurt.”

Yoav corrected him dryly, “I think the word you're looking for is ‘critically,’ sir, not ‘criminally.’”

Still watching them, you bit back a smile.

Chuckling, Abraxas straightened up.  They had come to the end of the hallway.  Abraxas remarked, “And now, good sir, you had best watch your back.  Off with you.  I’d recommend you crab-walk sideways out this room, else I might off you when you walk away.”

“Sir, please…” Yoav was clearly exhausted by this conversation. 

“Go on,” Abraxas insisted, flicking his hand at him. 

Yoav slipped away down the stairs to the left, which went into the kitchens, while Abraxas headed into the adjacent hallway on his right, likely to his bedroom.

You came back into the parlor and resumed your dusting.  Abraxas Malfoy.  Although he tends to be more friendly and forgiving than the other Malfoy family members, he’s by far the most difficult to read.  Besides, his moods can be quite volatile. There's always some shifting, difficult energy just below the surface, and it never stays still long enough for me to catch it. He always makes me feel on edge. 

Finishing dusting the fireplace, you decided to take a short break. Stretching, you walked over to the window and stared out at the vast mansion grounds.  The other servants have told me not to mind Abraxas. They say he’s the black sheep of the family simply because he’s bitter that he’s third in line for the principal inheritance.  I suppose that could be true.  But… somehow, I don’t feel that that’s the case. 

You watched the clouds pass over the sun for a moment.

I suppose it doesn’t matter to me either way, you thought, as you turned away from the window.   I only feel a small sort of curiosity because Abraxas and I were born only two days apart, both in this mansion.  Of course, his birthday was celebrated grandly, while mine was barely even noted down on that tiny scrap of paper.  But still, we were both born here and grew up here, in our parallel lives that barely ever touched... 

As you picked up the duster and rags and headed out the parlor, you mused, as for the couple of times that did we have run into each other… Well… You reached out and softly closed the door behind you.  Never mind.  It doesn't matter. If nothing has come of it in twenty-three years, why would anything come of it now? Yes, it's best to let everything lie... quietly, and peacefully.

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

Abraxas was right – well, sort of.  Lord Armand, the first son of the Malfoy household, who considered it a serious pastime of his to buy and raise a pack of hunting dogs, brought in not one, but three new dogs that week.  Two were bloodhounds and the last was an Irish wolfhound.

Armand had the gamekeepers bring in the dogs after dinner one evening, to show them off. You and two other servants, Mariah and Natalia, were waiting on the family tonight, so the three of you were also in the room, standing at your respective stations in different corners of the room. 

“My, my,” Madame Malfoy said, lounging on her chaise.  “Aren’t they gorgeous?”  Despite her words, you could see her distaste for the dogs, as she had distaste for almost all creatures, in that sly curl around her mouth.

“They should be,” Armand said.  “They cost me a fortune.  Besides, I had to get special permission from the damned Magical Beasts Office to get that wolfhound in.  See, he’s been bred to have some Barghest in him, which, of course, is illegal since Barghests are magical beasts that cannot be kept as pets.”

“And they let you?” Abraxas asked, lifting an eyebrow.

“Well…” Armand smirked.  “The department didn’t want to sign off on it at first, so I had to bully Bones a bit, but that pathetic half-blood made it happen, in the end.”

“Is the wolfhound safe?” Madame Malfoy asked, suddenly concerned. 

“He better be, or else I’ll train him into submission,” Armand stated bluntly. 

Just then, one of the bloodhounds lifted his head and sniffed in your direction.

You stiffened.  An old, haunting memory arose in your mind.  You clasped your hands tightly together behind your back.  You shut your eyes, too, trying to ward off the memory.  Deep breath, now.

“Pst,” Mariah hissed at you.

You hurriedly opened your eyes, only to see Abraxas standing quite close to you. He gazed down at you, and his eyes flickered with some unfathomable energy.

Is he amused or angry, or simply indifferent? you wondered. I can't tell.

“Sleeping on the job, are we?” Abraxas said lowly.

“No, sir,” you replied quickly.

“Hmpfh.  Anyways, I want you to bring me cigars.  Not just any old cigar, mind you – the Regiuses.  I was told a new shipment arrived two days ago.  It should be in the cellar.”

“Right away, my Lord.”

You began to turn away, when Abraxas grabbed your shoulder.  He murmured quietly, “Oh, and if you happen to see Yoav, let him know I won the bet, will you?”

“Yes, sir.”

It was only after you’d left the room that you found yourself wondering – Wait.  How does he know I know about his bet with Yoav?  They walked right past the room.  Did he somehow notice me watching them from down the hall? 

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

“Aargh…” You finally slumped onto the floor and put your face in your hands, admitting defeat.  I’ve gone through every single box in this endless cellar – and no Regiuses.  Why can’t I find them?  Are they staring me straight in the face and I’m somehow missing them? 

“You all right there?”

You turned to see two other servants, Clara and Leon, come into the room.  Clara, who was a few years older than you, was an expert on wines and cuisine.  Leon was a fairly new hire, around your age, but he was a great addition already.  On top of being a fast learner, he had a cheerful and charming disposition. 

You stood up and answered, “Yes, I’m fine. I was simply looking for something in here.” 

“Oh.  Well, did you find it?” Clara asked.

“No, but it’s all right. I’ll just… take these. They'll have to do.”  You snatched up a different box of absurdly expensive cigars, the Gurkha Royals, and headed for the door.  

Leon, who was standing next to the door, opened it for you.

You smiled at him and said, "Thank you."

As you stepped past the door, Leon spoke out. “Hey, wait a second.”

You paused. "Hm?"

“You seem… a bit pale.” He cocked his head at you in concern, and the fringe of his white hair shifted on his forehead.   “Did something bad happen?” 

Oh… How could he tell?  I mean, I feel mostly all right.  Just a little out-of-sorts, but… You made yourself smile at him.  “I’m really okay.  Anyways, I should be getting back.  I’ve been keeping Master Abraxas waiting long enough.”

“All right.  Take care.”  Leon’s gaze, rather piercing due to his bright blue eyes, followed you all the way out the door.

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

By the time you came back to the parlor, you found, to your utter horror, that everyone had gone.

Did I really take that long? 

You raced through the hallways to the kitchen.  Bursting in, you spotted Mariah.  Grabbing her, you asked, “Where did Lord Abraxas go?”

“Hm?  Oh, to the library, I think.  Everyone else went outside, to see the hounds in action.”

“Thanks!” You took off again.

The Malfoy mansion had three libraries, in fact, but you knew instantly in which one you would find Abraxas.  You dashed down the steps and ran into the library.

“I’m sorry to keep you waiting, sir!”

Abraxas, who was sitting in one of the fireside chairs, looked up from his book. 

“I didn’t realize how long I’d been down in the cellar,” you said earnestly.  “And as for the Reguises – well, there aren’t any, sir.”  You winced, expecting him to berate you.  You hastily tried to explain, “I promise you, I looked through all the boxes three times and there weren’t any.  We must have missed them in the last shipment or else the grounds folks haven’t moved it into the cellar just yet.”

Abraxas had not tried to stop you once during your little speech.  Instead, he took off his glasses and stared at you.

You flushed.  Then, you remembered that you were still holding the box of Gurkha Royals.  You shuffled forward and offered them to him.  “Here, a substitute. I hope it is to your taste, my Lord.”

Abraxas remained silent for a moment longer.

My God, he’s going to turn into a statue at this rate, you thought to yourself anxiously.  And why can’t he just dismiss me?  Or scold me, or whatever he’s going to do!

Finally, Abraxas said quietly, “That’s fine.  Just put them on the table here.”  He tapped his glasses frame lightly against the table beside him.

You acquiesced.  Then, already turning to go, you asked, “Is that all, my Lord?”

“Yes... unless..."

You paused and turned back to hear his request.

"...you have the ability to weave me a thousand spell-binding stories better than the one I’ve got.” 

Huh? What? you thought, completely nonplussed.

Abraxas lifted the book he had been reading.  “If you possess such a skill, then I’d rather keep you here and have you entertain me.  Since this book that Armand brought back for me is… well, let's say it's not to my taste.”

The title read:  The Mystery of Magical Inheritance: A Manifesto Against Less Than Half-Bloods. You wrinkled your nose. Ugh.  Before you knew it, you muttered, “It’s not to my taste, either.”

Abraxas’s lips quirked into a smile.

Seeing his expression, you realized that he’d heard what you said. It's one thing for him to disagree with his brother, but for me - !  “Excuse me, my Lord!” you said, quite forcefully.  “I didn’t mean to – Well, if that’s all, then I’ll go.”  With that, you turned tail and hastened for the door. 

Clunk.

You paused. What… was that?

You blinked awake and tiredly pushed yourself up, looking towards where the sound had come from.  As it was, you found yourself sleepily staring at your boyfriend.  Oliver was muttering quietly to himself and rubbing his forehead. Did he just… walk into the same door that he opened for himself? you wondered blearily. 

In fact, it was one of several incidents of the same nature. You had slowly come to realize that Oliver, while incredibly fit, agile, and dexterous on the Quidditch field, was a quiet, but definite klutz off the Quidditch field. 

Two weeks ago, you’d seen him break a doorknob off of a door. Granted, it was the History of Magic classroom door, which was quite touchy, but everyone knew by now to treat that doorknob cautiously. Oliver had sworn quietly and fixed it quickly with magic. Last week, you’d seen him trip over the edge of the rug - not a big trip, just a little one, but enough to jar him and make him hop a couple of times before finding his feet again. Four days ago, you’d caught him opening his drawer - only to bang his knee straight into it. Just yesterday, you’d noticed the way he put on his boxers backwards and, when he took them off again to wear them properly, how he missed his leg through one of the leg holes as he tried to put them back on. 

Noticing you staring at him in disbelief now, Oliver, flustered, tried to pretend that nothing had happened. He slid by the door and was out of the room in a flash.

You got up from the bed and went after him. As soon as you stepped out of the room, you saw Oliver rubbing his forehead furiously. 

“Oliver.”

Oliver froze. He slowly looked back at you. “I thought you were asleep.” Attempting to be discreet (but in fact being very obvious), he patted the front of his hair down. 

You walked up to him and, with a soft sigh, you gently pushed his hair back up to see a red mark on his forehead.  “Oh, Oliver…” You blew on it and then softly placed your hand on his head. “Are you all right?”

“Sure. I’m fine.” Oliver blinked at you, before he broke into a somewhat sheepish smile. 

“I don’t understand how you can be so athletic and so clumsy at the same time,” you told him. 

“I’m not clumsy,” Oliver replied. He thought about it for a second. “Not really.”

You smiled. “I don’t think the team would find you half as scary if they saw all the things I see.”

Oliver stared at you. “The things you see…?”

You shrugged. “You walking into the door. You tripping on the rug. You ripping the doorknob off the History of Magic classroom door.”

“You saw all that, did you?” Oliver murmured. 

You held up your hand and brought your index finger and thumb close together. “Just a little.”

Oliver reached back and ruefully roughed up the back of his hair.  “Well, you know, I just grew all of a sudden, and it’s not - it’s not always easy for me to...” He hesitated, unsure of what to say.

Realizing that this was actually a sensitive point for him, you quickly said, “Well, never mind. I was only teasing you.” You kissed his forehead and then patted his hair back down in front of his forehead. “There you go.  No evidence.  No one will ever, ever know.”

Oliver looped his arm around you and brought you in for a hug. As he buried his face in your hair, he murmured softly, “Don’t tell the team about this…?”

You smiled as you whispered fiercely, “Never.” 

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

After Quidditch practice, Oliver went to breakfast with Alicia and Katie, as usual.  You were still snoozing away in his bed in Gryffindor Tower, making the most of the soft pillow he’d gotten you. 

As Oliver put away three eggs in a row, focused on making sure he had enough protein, he didn’t notice the shy first year trying to sidle up to him. 

Finally, Alicia nodded at him and said, "Oliver."

Oliver looked over and saw a small first year boy, clutching onto the latest edition of the Quidditch Quarterly magazine. 

“Hi,” Oliver said.  “Can I help you?”

“Hi, I’m Benny,” the boy squeaked out.  “I was wondering if I might be able to ask you some questions about Quidditch.  Ever since my first flying lesson, I’ve been excited about flying more and then I learnt about Quidditch and I think it’s - ” He paused to think of the ‘best’ word he could find “ – swell.”

Oliver’s eyebrows lifted at the choice of adjective; Alicia and Katie shot each other amused looks.

Benny continued, “Anyhow, I got this magazine yesterday and it has some cool facts in it.”

Katie glanced at the magazine.  She frowned.  “It looks like it has coffee stains on it.  You should ask Quidditch Quarterly for a clean copy, if it came like that.”

“Oh no,” Benny said quickly.  “I didn’t order it.  I come from a non-magical family, and to be honest, I still haven’t figured out how magical post works.  I bought this off of someone here.”

“You did? Who?” Katie asked. 

“Fred Weasley, I think – Yeah, I think that was his name.”

Katie’s eyes flashed.  “Please tell me he didn’t charge you an arm and a leg for it.”

“Oh, no, um, I don’t think so,” Benny replied.  “Although, like I said, I come from a non-magical family, so I’m not too familiar with Wizarding money.”

“What did you pay for it?” Katie asked.   

“Two Galleons.”

“Fred Weasley!”  Katie exclaimed, and Alicia groaned beside her.  “Two Galleons for a magazine is insane. “

Benny, trying to calm the situation down and make himself look better, said hurriedly, “He did first ask me how much I had on me to make sure he wasn’t taking too much.  And he gave me this…”  He pulled out a Chocolate Frog, clearly half-melted and squashed in its packaging.

Alicia face-palmed.  “Merlin’s beard.”

“Anyways!” Benny continued brightly.  “I’m all read up on Quidditch now!  I just wanted to ask you a couple of questions and see what you think about some of the players.  Is that okay?”

“Sure.” Oliver scooted over to let Benny sit by him.

It all started well enough, as Benny clambered onto the bench and opened up Quidditch Quarterly.  However, about five pages in, when Benny started to rattle off the names and statistics of all the current players incorrectly, Oliver started to flinch, and then fidget.  Benny was so excited and desperately trying to impress Oliver that he powered through all of the names and numbers without drawing breath, never giving Oliver an opportunity to jump in and correct a single name.  After a minute straight of hearing all of his idols’ and future teammates’ names pronounced wildly incorrectly, Oliver was struggling. It was taking every bit of willpower he possessed not to jump on top of this first year and wrench this cursed Quidditch Quarterly magazine away from him.  There was a muscle jumping in his jaw and his left eye was twitching repeatedly. 

“Oliver,” Alicia whispered, “he’s a first year.  It wouldn’t do to kill a first year.”

Meanwhile, Katie gently tried to coax Benny away from the magazine.  Only, Benny leaned away from her and yelled out even more exuberantly, “Af- Af – Aficieno Nortadenalle!  Four Assists, Two Goals - !”

“He can’t have goals,” Oliver growled lowly under his breath.  “He’s a Beater, for Merlin’s sake!” 

“Oliver, keep it together,” Alicia urged. 

Benny then cried out, “Reserve Keeper, Sonali Masters - !”

“He’s not a reserve!  He’s been a player for eight years and he’s legend!  A legend!” Oliver hissed.  His hand, which had curled up into a fist around an orange, spasmed for a second, and the orange burst open.  Orange juice splattered onto everyone’s faces.  Katie shrieked and turned her head away.  Thankfully, Benny decided to scamper away, still clutching the magazine to his chest. 

“Oliver, you scared him away!” Alicia berated him. 

Flustered, Oliver called out, “Hey, wait!  Sorry, I wasn’t – I didn’t mean to…”  But Benny had already gone as far as his little legs could take him, all the way down the table.

Oliver sighed. 

“He was a first year!  You weren’t all-knowing about Quidditch as a first year!” Alicia reminded him, thumping Oliver in the back.

“I know,” Oliver said.  “I really didn’t mean to – I was just trying to tell him how to read the statistics correctly.”

Katie, who had been watching Benny go, remarked in an impressed voice, “Wow, I think you really scared him.  He’s sitting at the Hufflepuff table now, even though he’s a Gryffindor.” 

Alicia scowled at Oliver.  “He gave away all his money for a stupid, outdated magazine, thanks to Fred Idiot Weasley, and now, you took away his dream.  Good going, Captain.  What a team we have!”

Oliver stared down at his remaining eggs, ashamed of himself.  I really didn’t mean to do that.  The orange bursting in my hand startled me, too.  He sighed again.  Shucks, I s’pse I’ve got to do something about this.

Oliver put down his fork and got up from the table.  He walked down the Gryffindor table until he found -

“Fred.”

“If it isn’t our Captain!  Captain, oh, Captain!”  Fred cried out, mock-saluting him.

“You know that kid you cheated yesterday?”

“What?”

“You sold him Quidditch Quarterly for two Galleons?”

“Hey, I did not cheat him.  He tried to hand me five Galleons, and I gave him back three.  Besides, now he knows not to do that again, and I’d say that two Galleons is a cheap price to pay to learn how to grow up.”

“He’s eleven,” Oliver said bluntly.

Fred shrugged.  “All right, so I feel a little bad about it.  So what?  I’ll bully his bullies for the rest of this year to make it right.”

“That’s not…” Oliver shook his head.  “Look, if I pay you two Galleons now, will you go give that kid back a Galleon?”

Fred considered this.  “Hm… So, I’d be up one Galleon.”

“Yeah.”

Fred grinned wickedly at Oliver.  “How ‘bout you pay me three Galleons?”

“Fred.”

“Four?”

“Fred.”

Fred laughed.  “All right, fine.  Two Galleons, it is.”

Oliver said seriously, “You better pay that kid back, or I’ll come find you and shake every Galleon out of your robes on the spot.  Got it?”

“Oho, is that a challenge?” Fred said.

Oliver snorted.  “It would be if you had ever taken my advice and trained your legs, but you didn’t – so it’s hardly a challenge, because I know for a fact that I could chase you down in less than a minute whenever I want.”

“Is that so?” Then, before Oliver could react, Fred yelled, “Go!”  and raced off, taking off like an arrow released from a bow.

With a loud growl, Oliver sprinted after Fred, roaring, “I meant what I said!”

Fred and Oliver raced towards the doors.  Professor McGonagall was up on her feet, yelling at them, but they were almost at the entrance already.

Meanwhile, you had just woken up and decided to try to catch the last few minutes of breakfast.  Yawning, you’d barely managed to pull on a large jumper and plod down to the Great Hall.  You were stepping through the doors when – “Whoa!”  You spun around as two figures streaked by you – the first was a tall, ginger-haired, freckly boy, with his limbs going everywhere and the second – the second – You paused and furrowed your nose.  Wasn’t that…?

Just then, Ron, who had also been standing near the door with Harry and Hermione, but stepped aside hurriedly when he saw Fred and Oliver coming, blurted out, “Was it just me, or did Wood have a piece of orange stuck to his face?”

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

Ten minutes later, you were sitting with Charlotte when you saw Oliver run back into the Great Hall.  He was sweating slightly, and in his hand, he was clutching a handful of coins, which glistened in the light. 

What is he doing? you wondered.

You watched as Oliver marched over to a tiny first year at the Hufflepuff table.  The first year was so small that you could barely see the top of his head over the heads of the other students.  Oliver deposited the handful of coins in the first year’s lap and then, he awkwardly patted the first year’s head.  You saw Oliver’s lips move, and it looked like he was saying something along the lines of, “Keep trying” before he turned away and made his way back to Alicia and Katie, who were calmly finishing up their breakfast.

“What are you looking at?” Charlotte asked you.

You shook your head. “I think Oliver gets more done in the early morning than I do in my whole day.”

“Probably,” Charlotte agreed.  “But that’s all right.  You’re not planning to be a professional Quidditch player, are you?”

“No,” you said, smiling.  A moment later, you couldn’t help but think, I’m not planning to be anything else, either.  You sighed as worry flashed through your mind.  However, you kept your thoughts to yourself and instead refilled your glass of pumpkin juice. 

After you and Charlotte finished breakfast, you went back up to grab your bookbags (and you still needed to change).  While waiting outside the Charms classroom, you saw Oliver appear, talking animatedly with Angelina.  You didn’t interrupt them, but when the classroom door opened and everyone began to filter through, Oliver hurried forward a little so he could put his hand on your shoulder and squeeze it in a small greeting.  You smiled, and you paused before your desk to turn around and give him a kiss on the cheek.  As you leaned into him, you couldn’t help but notice a slight, but fresh citrus scent on him.  

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

As everyone packed up at the end of class, Professor McGonagall called out, “Anyone applying for an internship with the Wizengamot, please remember to submit your applications today.  Should you be caught running down to the Owlery after hours, you will not be excused, so plan accordingly!”

McGonagall, as Head of Gryffindor House, had been making these announcements frequently lately.  It was the season of job and internship applications for all seventh years.  Different jobs had different deadlines for the first round of applications.  Corina, who wanted to be a Healer, and Charlotte, who wanted to be a Gringotts Curse-Breaker, had already submitted their applications.  Alexander was going to work as a manager at his father’s apothecary, where he already worked every summer as an assistant and which he hoped to eventually inherit.  You had dutifully posted a long list of job applications deadline over your desk, and every week, you crossed another handful of jobs off. However, you had yet to submit an application. 

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

You were out on the Quidditch pitch stands again, as it had become a happy custom for you to come out and support the Gryffindor team during practice.  Today, however, you had your head buried in yet another career pamphlet, and though you were trying not to draw attention to yourself, you were desperately thumbing through the pages and devouring every word of it, hoping that at least one position would draw your attention.  But… nothing.  With a sigh, you let the pamphlet fall into your lap.  Putting your arms up against the railing in front of you, you leaned forward and let out a deep breath.  What is wrong with me?  Why doesn’t anything sound exciting to me?  There are so many things out there, so why can’t I find a single thing that makes me want to chase after it?

You vaguely heard shouting out on the Quidditch field, but you were so deep in your thoughts that you simply stayed like that, folded up in your own arms and thoughts.  You heard footsteps coming towards you, but it was only when you heard a rustle and you felt something warm draped over your shoulders that you woke up.  You looked up to see Oliver peering down at you.

“Oh,” you said, hastily sitting up.  “Hi, Oliver. Good practice?”

“Yeah. What are you doing?  Are you sleeping?” 

You shook your head.  A bit dazed, you smiled softly at him as you replied, “No, I was just… having some thoughts.”

“Having some thoughts?” Oliver chuckled.  “Like having friends over or having some pancakes, but thoughts, huh?”  He came and sat by you.  “Were they, um, invited thoughts?”

You laughed a little.  Your hands came to rest on your lap, and you felt the cool parchment of the pamphlet against your hands.  “I s’pse so.”

Oliver ducked his head to better see your expression.  He frowned, as he noticed that there was something faraway, almost disappointed in your eyes.  “No, I think I see some uninvited guests in your head.” 

Surprised, you looked over at Oliver.  “What?”

“Yeah, and you know what’s the best way to kick them out?”

“Um, how?” you said, uncertain as to what Oliver was even talking about.

Oliver stood up and patted his trusty broomstick, which he had brought up with him.  “Physical exercise.”

“Oh, Oliver, no,” you said at once.

Oliver blinked at you.  “Why not?  Didn’t you feel better after we exercised together last time?”

You vaguely recalled grabbing onto Oliver’s shoulders and screaming your head off as he carried you on his back and raced you around the track, right as the sun came up over the horizon.  You furrowed your nose, but you had to admit, Well, it’s true that I felt better afterwards, I mean, once I’d gotten the feeling back in my legs.  I felt… How do I explain it?  More awake, more myself.

“Well…” you said, still hesitant.

Oliver assured you, “I won’t let you fall, I swear.  You can sit right in front of me, and I’ll have my arms around you, or else you can sit behind me and hold onto me, whatever you prefer.  But either way, I’ve got you.” 

You were starting to melt under his plea.  “Well…” you murmured again, even more softly.

Oliver bent down to gently kiss your forehead.  Then, when you instinctively looked up at him, he caught your eyes with the softest gaze, and he whispered, “Please…? Just for a few minutes?  For me?  I’ll take you straight down when you say so, I promise.”

With a groan, you leaned forward, smushing your face against Oliver’s shoulder.  “Fine.  Fine.”

“Excellent!”  Oliver abruptly straightened up and punched his fist in the air victoriously.  "Maybe we'll get you to throw a Quaffle today!"

As you had been leaning on him, you accidentally slipped forward and tumbled into a heap onto the stands.  “Oliver!” you gasped.

“Oh Merlin, sorry!”  Oliver hastily knelt down to make sure you were okay.  “Sorry, that was on me, I wasn’t thinking!”

Thankfully, you were entirely unharmed.  But you did look rather foolish, sprawled out along the stands, hair in your face as if you were wearing a mop, and your leg out at a somewhat awkward angle, like a flamingo’s bent leg, while you clutched desperately at the rails despite the fact that you were totally fine.

Oliver tried to hide his laughter as he helped you up.  But as he lifted you up, you caught the amused smile playing around his lips and lighting up his eyes.  Your own eyes began to narrow, but before you could pick a proper fight with your over-exuberant boyfriend, Oliver grabbed your hand and pulled you along, down to the pitch.

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

"Oliver, I don't think I can manage a Quaffle and a broomstick."

"Well, I'll manage the broomstick. You just hold onto the Quaffle."

You bit down on your lower lip. "But..."

"If it's too much, you can drop the Quaffle anytime and it'll just come back down to the ground."

You sighed. "Fine, I'll give it a try."

"Atta girl."

So it was that after a few minutes of Oliver’s gentle coaxing, you found yourself sitting in front of Oliver on his broomstick, nervously clutching onto a Quaffle. 

You looked over at the hoops.  You cleared your throat and lifted the Quaffle.  Then, you cleared your throat again.

“C’mon,” Oliver said encouragingly.  “You got it.”

“Um, I don’t know how to throw it...”

“Lift it up high.”

“But I’ll fall,” you said nervously.

“Here.” Oliver held onto the broomstick with one hand, and he wrapped his other arm securely around your waist.  “Now, lift it high and throw it at the middle hoop.”

“O-Okay.”  As you tried to lift the Quaffle, you found yourself wondering whether you needed to lift it to the height of your chest, face, or above your head.  Ugh, I feel so awkward.  I swear when I watch the Quidditch players do it, they make it seem so natural.  Do they ever lift it above their head?  No, not really.  Or maybe they do, only they do it so quickly that I’ve never noticed.  Aargh.

“Uh, are you okay?” Oliver asked, for you were frozen on the broom, holding the Quaffle up over your head while your arms shivered slightly with the weight.  Unsure of what you were intending to do, Oliver told you, “You can throw it, y’know. Just give it a go. Toss it. How bad could it be?”

“Right.  Here goes.”  You pushed your arms forward and you tried to aim at the middle hoop.  The Quaffle fell, rather than flew, from your hands, and it headed straight for the ground, falling over ten feet short of the hoops.

“Oh, wow,” Oliver said breathlessly. "Didn't expect that, after all."

“That bad, huh?”

The assessment slipped out of Oliver’s lips immediately and honestly - “Horrendous.”

“Oliver!” you chided him, embarrassed. 

“But it’s all right!” Oliver said hastily.

You made to turn your head and look at him, but the sudden movement made you slip to the side.  You let out an unbecoming squawk and grabbed at Oliver’s arm, which was thankfully still nestled around your middle.

“You’re fine!” Oliver said hurriedly, clutching you to him.  “I got you, I got you.”

“Can we go back to the ground now?” you pleaded.  “I mean, we’ve confirmed that I am, in fact, a horrendous Chaser.  I think that’s enough realization for today.”

“It’s okay,” Oliver reassured you.  “Try it again, you’ll do better.  The first time’s always awkward.”

You groaned.  “Again?”

“Just once more.  Please?” Oliver wheedled.  “I’ll keep holding onto you, I promise.  And you don’t need to lift the Quaffle so high up this time.”

“Yeah, I thought I was overdoing it.”

“Right, so you can do it better this time.” 

You groaned again, but you acquiesced, “Fine.  I’ll do it one more time.”

“Excellent.  Hold on now.  We have to drop down to grab the Quaffle.”

You clutched onto the broomstick, and Oliver wrapped his hands over yours.  He steered the broomstick back down until it was barely hovering above the ground.  “We’re going to pass the Quaffle on the ground, and you’re going to lean over and pick it up.”

“Okay,” you said nervously.  “Go slow, please.”

“Yes, ma’am.”  Oliver inched along in the grass.  He reckoned he’d never ridden a broomstick this slowly before, and he could almost feel his legendary Nimbus protesting in his hands.  Still, he held it steady and crawled forth.  You reached out and scooped the Quaffle from the ground, while staying on the broomstick.

“Nice.” Oliver kicked off into the air.  You closed your eyes, still anxious at the sight of the ground rushing away so quickly from below your feet. 

“Look up at the sky,” Oliver reminded you, and you did.  The endless blue helped you to forget that you were rising up high above the ground, and you managed to let out a breath. 

Hovering in the air once more, Oliver brought the Nimbus back before the hoops.  “All right, here we go again,” he announced, and his Scottish accent sounded very pronounced for a moment.  Squeezing the broomstick with his thighs, Oliver put both his hands on your stomach for a moment.  “Tighten here,” he instructed.  “You want to feel your core stabilize.  This is where the strength comes from.  Your arms are just pushing forth, sending the Quaffle out.”

“Like this?” You made the motion of pushing your arms out from your body a couple of times, carefully.

“Yeah, exactly like that,” Oliver confirmed.  “Okay, don’t overthink it.  The Quaffle will go through the hoop, just let it fly from your hands, and your instincts will do the rest.”  He gripped the broomstick with one hand again, and he kept his other arm around your waist.

You liked how secure it made you feel, to have Oliver’s arm around you.  But despite Oliver’s gentle guidance, you couldn’t help but worry, “I think you severely underestimate how uncoordinated I am.”

Oliver chuckled.  “Maybe.  But it could still work, right?  We won’t know unless you try.  That’s the beauty of Quidditch. ”

“I s'pse so,” you acknowledged.  “Okay, here goes nothing.”  You took a deep breath, lifted the Quaffle to your chest, and this time, you pushed out, sending the Quaffle towards the hoops.  To your disbelief, it soared right through the middle hoop.  Your eyes widened.  Oh Godric, it actually went in. 

Oliver cheered.  “Right through the center! See?  You’re an ace.”

“Ace?”

“Number one player.”

Feeling silly with how much Oliver was babying you, you said at once, “Oh, no, not me.  You don’t have to try to make me feel better, Oliver.  I mean, I appreciate it, but I know I’m really bad at this.  You don’t have to hide it.”

“You just made a goal on your second try,” Oliver told you.  “That’s pretty good for anyone; it’s not about being soft with you.”

You smiled at this.  Still, you pushed back softly, saying, “But you are, y’know.”

“Hm?”

“Soft with me.”

“Oh.” At this, Oliver shrugged.  “Well, sure, I guess.  I mean, I can’t not be.  It’s – It’s you, after all.” 

“And it’s you,” you replied affectionately. 

“Yeah, it is… Me and you...” Oliver leaned forward and kissed your cheek, before he whispered sweetly, “Ace.” 

Your cheeks flushed, still a little embarrassed with how much Oliver was trying to take care of you.  Still, you couldn’t help but think to yourself, Ace.  Huh, I kind-of like that. Not that I’ll ever be one in my life, but it feels nice.  I guess I understand, a little better, why Oliver likes Quidditch so much.  Hm…

Seeing you stare at the hoops with a pleased, almost dazed expression on your face, Oliver murmured, “Aha, the Quidditch bug has bitten you, too, hasn’t it?”

“What?” you said, startled. “No, of course not.”

“I saw it,” Oliver whispered, teasing you.  “That dazzled look…”

You started to protest again, but Oliver remarked, “It’s the hoops that get you, right?  I’d never seen anything like them before, and I still haven’t.  Three golden hoops, high up in the air.  It’s such a strange symbol, one that might never have existed if not for Quidditch.  I think that’s why I’m a Keeper, even though I’m physically more suited to being a Chaser or Seeker.  I want to be near the hoops, want to protect them, somehow.  That doesn’t make any sense, really, but…” He shrugged. “It’s how I feel.”

Hearing Oliver say all this, you recalled the expression that Oliver, as a first year, had worn whenever he’d gazed up at the Quidditch hoops.  He’d always looked like he was dreaming in plain daylight.  Now, you understood it a little.  Still, you refused to get ahead of yourself or let Oliver know that all of his attempts to make you exercise were slowly but surely winning you over.  You crossed your arms across your chest and said stiffly, “I was shocked that the ball went in, that’s all.  Nothing more.”

Oliver grinned.  “All right, whatever you say, captain of the Puddlemoor Unified team.”

“Yes, well, this Captain would like to go back to land, please,” you requested.  A breeze was starting to pick up, and it was making you a little nervous, as even the slightest breeze felt much more intense when you were this high up.  Out in the distance, you could see the treetops of the Forbidden Forest starting to sway.

Oliver replied, “Sure, but before we do…”

“Oh, Oliver, if you’re going to use the fact that you can strand me up here as leverage for getting something you want, then that would make you a very, very bad man - ”

Oliver kept his arm around you, but he slid his hand up, until he grasped your chin.  He gently turned your face, so that you were looking over your shoulder.  He murmured lowly, “Good goal, ace,” and then he kissed you. 

“Oh…” Your defensiveness and anxiety fell away at once, for Oliver’s warm, soft mouth against yours transported you to somewhere else entirely, even if you were dangling above the ground at what you considered a most sacrilegious height.  But then again, Oliver was hugging you so warmly across your middle, and you could feel his sturdy chest against your back, and so, strangely, you were slowly learning that you could feel safe up here.

Oliver drew back a little, and he murmured, “Um, what were you saying? Sorry, I didn't catch it.”

“Nothing,” you said hurriedly.  You turned away from him, staring out in front of you again, and you ducked your head down, trying to hide how warm you suddenly felt.  “Um, thank you for taking me up here.  I do feel a lot better, actually.”

Oliver’s heart thumped at how cute you sounded.  His voice became slightly hoarse as he replied, in an equally shy voice, “No, uh, no problem.” 

You were staring down at your and Oliver’s feet, while Oliver was gazing at you from behind, trying to see beyond your blushing cheeks.  But he couldn't quite see your expression. He vaguely wondered if he might kiss you again, but then he remembered that you had requested to fly back down. Finally, Oliver said, “Shall we head down now?”

“Yes, please.” 

Oliver guided the broomstick back onto the grass.  He helped you off first, and then he leapt lightly off the broom.  As his hands squeezed your waist a little, you let out the softest little sigh, and Oliver felt his heart leap against his chest. Your eyes met his, and you blushed. Clearly, you hadn't intended on making that sound, but you had and... Oliver reached out and gently stroked your cheek. You smiled and, grasping onto his wrist with both of your hands, you nuzzled and then kissed his palm. "Thank you," you said softly.

Oliver's mind was buzzing. For God's sake, he wanted you. He wanted you so very much in this moment, so why was he standing there so numbly, still clutching onto his broomstick, when he should be having you, assuming you wanted him, too?

"Oliver?" you murmured, unsure of why he had suddenly gone silent.

Oliver blurted out, "Wait right here." Clutching the Nimbus tightly in his hand, he galloped off to store it away in the locker rooms. 

“What’s the rush?” you nearly called after him, but you stayed quiet and pressed your hands to your cheeks, trying to cool yourself off.  That kiss was… quite something.  I almost forgot I was up in the air… Whew, you thought to yourself.  Anyways, I’ve got to get a grip on myself.  Oliver brought me out here to lift my spirits, not to make me, um, all wanting for him.  When he comes back out here, I’ll do the nice, normal thing – thank him, take his hand, and we can walk back to the castle for dinner. 

Just then, Oliver raced out of the locker rooms.  He came over to you, still at a strangely quick pace.

Smiling, you reached out your hand and started to say, “Din - ?” but then, Oliver swept you into his arms.

"Oh!" You gasped in surprise.  Carrying you in a hug, Oliver quickly brought you over to one of the main entranceways of the Quidditch stadium.  Then, half-placing you on your feet and half-pushing you up against the wooden beam, Oliver kissed you fervently.  He couldn’t help himself – just as it had for you, that kiss on the broomstick had unlocked something within him.  He knew, and he thought that some part of him had always known, that he deeply adored you - you and your soft, wanting mouth; you and your soft, nervous heart; you and your soft, beautiful everything.

You scrambled to hold onto him, to kiss him back. As Oliver felt your hands grab onto his shoulders, he did hesitate for a second, suddenly worrying that that was all too abrupt for you. Maybe I’m the only one feeling it, maybe I’ve caught her too off guard, maybe I should have taken this more slowly – But before his thoughts could run away from him anymore, you reached up, grasped his face and yanked him back down to you, and you responded with equal fire.  Wrapping your arms tightly around his shoulders, so tightly that your hips and your tummy was pressing into his, you kissed him back –

Relief flooded into Oliver’s mind, followed by a huge burst of confidence and happiness.  This was all Oliver ever wanted - this, now, with you.  He closed his eyes, and he let go of all his anxiety because he was with you, just as you worked at letting go of your anxiety for him all the time, sitting up there on his broomstick with him, trying to learn how to throw a Quaffle…  She has no idea, does she? How precious she is when she's with me like that, all nervous but trying her best. She's just up there, scowling and getting annoyed and nervous in equal measure, focused on throwing the Quaffle, and she has no clue that as I watch her, I'm falling in love with her more and more... He held you tighter and tighter, bringing you in against him. 

“Mmpfh,” you moaned softly, as you felt Oliver’s rough, callused hands grasp lovingly at your cheeks for a moment.  The motion made you tilt your head back ever so slightly.  Then, Oliver’s mouth found yours again, pressing against your lips so warmly.

“Mmm,” you moaned again, somehow feeling completely satisfied and entirely wanting at the same time.  Oliver made you feel this way somehow, the same way that he both protected and challenged your anxious little heart whenever it appeared before him.  He knew how to hold you, to meet you where you were, and then to draw you out so that you weren’t in your head so much.  So, when you were with him, you got to feel like you.

As your mask slipped away, so did your inhibitions.  Clutching at the front of Oliver’s shirt, you pleaded, “Um, I think we need – we need to go somewhere else less – less visible.”

“Where?” Oliver breathed out.

“I don’t know.  You have to tell me, this is your arena, Captain,” you reminded him, still kissing him along his jawline.  “Anywhere, just where there isn’t anyone around.”

Oliver’s eyes darted along the stadium quickly.  “All right, come here.”  Grabbing your hand, he took you away to a place he’d just confirmed was empty – the locker rooms. 

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

You didn’t find the locker room particularly inspiring in terms of romance, but it didn’t matter.  In any case, you didn’t care enough to complain.  Oliver had found what you had asked for – a place for the two of you, alone.  Still trading heated kisses and with hands glancing off of each other everywhere, you managed to strip Oliver’s shirt off of him.  Oliver reached for your shirt, too, but you were already on your knees, and tugging down the front of his pants.

“Wa - ” Oliver started to say, suddenly feeling a bit unprepared. 

You looked up at him, with your fingers sliding into his boxers already.  “Wait?  You want me to wait?”

Oliver paused, staring down at you.  You were on your knees and you had already pushed your hair back and leaned forward. With your mouth hovering before his zipper, you had somehow already put yourself in the perfect position to take him.  Fuck, Oliver thought, almost numbly, how does she look so pretty, sitting like that for me? Oliver swallowed hard, realizing that, in fact, the last thing he wanted to do was for you to wait.  He shook his head.  “Uh, no, never mind,” he mumbled, feeling a bit sheepish.

"Okay, then," you said, pleased. You'd wanted to taste Oliver for a long time now, and you wagered that he wouldn't mind having your mouth on him. So, with his consent, you went right on ahead, pulling out Oliver’s cock. Moaning softly at the sight of him, you started to kiss his cock all over, shifting forward and back, and stroking your hand up and down his length at the same time.

"Yes," you breathed out. "Mm, Oliver..."

Oliver blushed, unsure of how to take the way that you were worshipping his cock already.  He bit down on his lower lip and tried to stop himself from saying anything foolish.  But then, you wrapped your lips around the tip of his cock, put your hands on your knees, and slid forward, pushing your head down on him.

“O-Oh…” Oliver huffed out suddenly.  “Nngh, that’s – uhn– fuck.”

Sounds about right, you thought to yourself, quite pleased with his reaction.  You bobbed your head up and down diligently, loving how it felt to have Oliver’s cock in your mouth. 

Oliver groaned, and his head fell back a little.  Your eyes widened when you saw how his abs and hips suddenly flashed such deep muscular lines.  Godric, he’s built, you thought, sucking on his cock a bit dazedly. 

As you kept going down on him, working your little mouth as much as you could to please him, Oliver tensed all over.  You could see his hands curling into fists, wanting something to grab.  I could give him that, you thought at once.  He could grab me.  Oh yes, he could grab me, if he wanted.      

But before you could suggest anything, Oliver whimpered, “fuck” and then he let out a hard huff as he bent forward a little.  You felt Oliver grab your shoulders as he pulled away from you slightly.

“Ah…” A soft gasp left you as you suddenly found your mouth empty. 

Oliver panted loudly and he shakily put his hands on his knees. 

You reached up and grabbed Oliver’s arms to steady him.  “Oliver?”

“I can’t – I don’t think I can take you – like – like that,” Oliver huffed out, staring desperately at you.  “I mean, not for very long.”  Despite how set his jaw was, his eyes were soft, so very soft…

“Oh,” you breathed out.  “Um, okay.” 

“Not – Not that you did anything wrong,” Oliver added hurriedly.  "I mean, that felt - you're - " Apparently at a loss for words but somehow wanting to convey how wonderful you'd been for him, Oliver grasped you by the back of your neck and kissed you sweetly on the lips.  He was still panting, and you felt how feverish his hand was against the back of your neck.

You returned his kiss, and when you pulled away, you caught the blush spreading over Oliver's cheeks, coloring his face quite high up, all the way up to his cheekbones and just below his eyes. So cute, you thought, smiling a little. How can he be so fit, and have the personality of a little puppy? Oh God, what do I do with him? Or, really, what the hell do I do with myself? When I see him like this, I just...

You shook your head lightly, in disbelief at how cute Oliver was. Leaning in to kiss him again, you murmured sweetly against his lips, "How do you want me, then? Tell me, baby."

“I - ” Oliver began, but then the sound of the locker room door creaking open rudely interrupted this tender moment.

You both froze.  “Oh Godric,” you whispered, as you and Oliver crashed back to reality.

“Here.”  Oliver swiftly pulled you onto your feet and led you into a nearby shower stall.  He had to sort-of tuck you in against him, given how tight the space was.  Then, he reached around you to close the door.  You helped, sticking your foot out to make sure it shut properly.

Slam. 

Whoever had entered heard the sound of the door shutting and called out, “Hello?”

Oliver reached around you and turned on the faucet.  Water came pouring out, soaking you both.  The sound of the water hitting against the stone floor was fairly loud.  Good thinking, you thought, letting out a quiet breath of relief.  Oliver put his arms around you, trying to keep you warm against him, though, in truth, the water was warm and therefore felt quite nice.

The person called out again, “Hey, is someone in here?”

Oliver cleared his throat before he replied, “Uh, yeah.”

There was a pause.  In that moment, the person outside must have spotted Oliver’s practice shirt on the floor outside because he called out, “Wood, is that you?”

“Yeah,” Oliver called back.  Then, his face scrunched up and he asked, “Who’s out there?”

“It’s Diggory.”

“Oh.  Sorry, I didn’t recognize your voice.”

“No, no.  Sorry to intrude.  Hey, listen, is it all right if I take the pitch for the next hour or so?”

“Yeah, no problem.”

“Also, you dropped your shirt on the floor.  Here, I’ll put it out on the bench by your stall.”

A second later, you could hear Cedric’s footsteps as he approached the stall.  Oliver clutched you tighter to him, and you nestled into him.  The stall cover door was made of a thick fabric, but there was still a chance that the wrong combination of the light overheard and the fabric moving might make it see-through. 

Cedric stopped on the other side of the curtain.  Eyes wide, you remained pressed up against Oliver, trying to hide yourself in his form.  Meanwhile, warm water was gushing everywhere on both of you.  You still had your shirt on, but it was now entirely soaked through, and Oliver could feel your soft breasts pressing into his chest, with your nipples poking through the wet cloth, and he could feel your tummy rippling gently as you breathed nervously while pressed against him.  What was more, your sinful little mouth had made him rather stiff, and it did not help one bit that as you were trying to stay with him, you were unintentionally pressing your thigh against his cock, and you kept shifting a little, rubbing your plush little thigh against him -

Oliver shut his eyes and swallowed hard.  Focus.  Diggory’s still here. 

“All right.  There’s your shirt,” Diggory called. 

“Thanks!” Oliver called back, his voice was a tad raspier than it should have been. 

Mercifully, Diggory walked away.  There was a pause, in which he grabbed his broomstick.  Then, he headed out, and the door creaked shut behind him. 

You whispered in a tiny, still nervous voice, “Merlin, I really thought we were going to get caught there.”

“Yeah,” Oliver laughed hoarsely.  “Me too.”

You burrowed your head against Oliver's chest and murmured, “I don’t think I could live it down if Diggory found us in here, and then people would go around saying how the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain is fucking a stupid little fangirl in the showers…”

Oliver’s brow furrowed.  “Huh?  Why would people say something like that? That’s not what’s happening.”

“Well, no,” you said, “but you could see how people would spin it that way.”

“They wouldn’t,” Oliver argued back.  “Because that’s not true, not even a little bit.”

You looked at him, confused. 

Oliver said matter-of-factly, “They’d all say that I’m mad about my girlfriend, and that I can’t seem to keep you off my mind or keep my hands off of you, because I – well, I can’t.  I don’t see why I’d be embarrassed about that, if people decided to talk about it.  Not that it’s any of their business, but so what?  Everyone knows I’m crazy about you, anyways.” 

How is he like this? you wondered to yourself. I genuinely don’t understand.  He just says all these – these sweet things.  Does he not realize that it makes me want to curl up and die from how sweet he is?  And he says it like he’s going to be upset if accept anything less, and I don’t know how to respond to this.  I want to make a joke, or deflect, or laugh, or – or something, but I can’t, I can’t.  All I can do is stand here and let him love me, and then I try to love him back the same way.  But oh God, it just makes me so – a little scared because he’s so honest about everything.  When I hear him say these things, when I’m watching him play Quidditch, I always think the same thing – I think he’s braver than me, and I’m terrified I won’t be able to reciprocate, even though all I want to do is to love him right back.  

Standing uncertainly in the silence, Oliver broke.  “Um, sorry if I said something weird.”

You shook your head lightly.

“Are you sure?  ‘Cause I can take it back if you want.  I meant it all, but maybe it would have been better to – to wait or be less serious about it all, or something like that.  I don’t know.  I get all – all, I don’t know, but I get a bit stupid around you and - ”

“Don’t take it back,” you murmured softly.  “Please don’t take it back.  Ever.” You thought to yourself, not when it’s my happiness, even as it’s my fear.  You tenderly put your hands on Oliver’s face, letting your palms rest on his handsome jaw and laying your fingers tenderly against his cheeks.  I can do it, you thought, I can overcome this, if it’s with you.  Then, you kissed him with all of your might, trying to convey to him every bit of affection that you felt for him.

Oliver was still a bit shy, a bit hesitant, waiting for your guidance, as you led his hands down your body and onto your hips.  But he felt how lovingly you touched him, so that he could overcome his anxiety and lean into how natural it was to simply touch you back. For a moment, he savored how it felt to have his strong, broad hands on your hips, and how the warm water was flowing over your hips and then over his hands, almost as if, now that Oliver was holding you, you and Oliver were a part of the same silhouette.

After a moment, Oliver grasped onto the sides of your jeans. You shifted your hips, helping him to take them off.  Then, his hands grasped the sides of your panties, and he paused, looking down at you to ask for your permission.  You nodded at him. Oliver slipped your off panties off of you, letting them shimmy down your sweet thighs and lovely legs. Oliver paused to kiss your thigh softly, and you smiled at him. You reached for him, and he stood up again.

Oliver slowly gripped your waist tightly in his hands, and you were holding onto him, too, clutching onto his sides. He looked down at you, and his eyes locked with yours as he slowly and carefully entered you. "Ah," you breathed out and your tummy tensed.

Oliver paused at once, and you saw the way his brow furrowed.

“No, keep going,” you reassured him.  “It’s how it’s supposed to feel – you, filling me up. I'm all tight for you, and you're - you're - nngh - thick, baby.”

"You are tight," Oliver breathed out in agreement.

"Mm, yes," you said, nodding your little head at him and gripping his forearms. "But keep going now, I can take it."

Oliver nodded. Then, still squeezing your waist tightly and watching your soft tummy rippling a little, he pushed inside of you more, pushing his cock down into your warm, velvety walls and coaxing them apart.

"Ah...!" You breathed out a soft whimper that struck straight at Oliver’s heart. 

"Sweetheart," he whispered, still worried.

"N-No," you bleated out. "Ah, it feels so g-good, that's a-all." Even as you tried to reassure him, you were also busy reacting. Your pussy was squeezing all over his cock. Meanwhile, your hands traveled up quickly to Oliver's shoulders, patting all over his arms and chest for a moment, as a sudden warm heat effervesced through your pussy.

"Keep going, please," you repeated. "Please... don't leave me waiting."

Oliver moaned at your words. Then, he leaned in and kissed you. Your mouths were so soft as you both leaned into each other. However, Oliver, wanting to make sure that you wouldn’t slip or anything, gently pushed you back against the wall after a moment, pressing down on you slightly with his shoulders while still holding onto your waist. 

Once he knew you were steady, Oliver pushed in again - further this time, and you suddenly hugged Oliver around his shoulders hard. Another soft huff left your lips, only for Oliver to take it and swallow it for you, as his mouth was so tenderly pushing against yours.

"Mm, you are taking me," Oliver murmured after a moment, feeling how his gentle rocking into you was slowly opening you up for him. Your pussy was still quite tight, but he could now push in and out of you a little easier, and he could feel your plush walls stroking more and more of his cock as he took you deeper now. "So well," he breathed out, a bit raspily. "Fuck, you are a good girl for me, huh, love?"

"Mm - yeah," you breathed out, feeling so safe with Oliver, so taken care of, and yet, your want for Oliver was only increasing. You wanted to take him, you wanted to feel him pounding into you, making you his totally and completely. But you loved this moment, too, and while a part of you was desperate for more of Oliver at once, another part of you wanted to stay in this sweet, tender moment forever.

Besides that, the atmosphere was strangely hushed, and it was making you feel this intense intimacy with Oliver in a slower, more mature way. Perhaps it was the fact that the two of you were still tucked away in this bathroom stall and while you were entirely focused on only each other, you both knew, in the back of your minds, that you had to stay quieter than usual. Or perhaps it was because, with the stall so small, you and Oliver had to be even closer to each other than usual, and it was making everything feel that much more intimate that much more quickly. At the same time that you were feeling his lips on yours, you were also feeling his chest press up against you, or while you were feeling him gently push his cock inside of you, you could also feel his strong, sturdy thighs pushing gently into your soft, plush ones. Plus, although Oliver was not much taller than you, in this small, cramped space, he seemed to be everywhere - his arms around you, thighs pushing into yours, his hands holding you steady, chest pressing down into your soft breath, his mouth on yours while you both desperately traded kisses and pants, his soft hair getting all wet, and yours too, with water streaming over you both. And that might be the other thing, this warm water streaming over you both, making everything heated and slick right away. 

But all this time, Oliver had been pushing into you deeper and deeper, taking it slow, making sure that you were feeling nothing but pleasure. You could feel how much he was holding back, because while his hips were barely moving, you could feel his hands squeezing your waist and how strong his abs and thighs were even as he barely rocked into you.

You encouraged him again, softly, "More. Want you more, please."

Oliver nodded, and he risked pushing into you harder. Your thighs trembled a little, as he hit up softly against you.  “Ah… Hah… Ah…” you panted so beautifully against his lips, as you were suddenly so very full of him. Ah, you moaned in your head, starting to feel that deep sense of satisfaction that you wanted to feel with him.

Standing upright now, Oliver lifted one hand and tenderly pushed your wet, silky hair away from your face.  He kissed your forehead.  Then, his hands slipped over and across the back of your waist and he hugged you tightly to him.  "I think you can take me now, yeah?" he checked in with you, murmuring softly, so as not to pressure you.

However, as you were enveloped in his embrace, you could feel how hard his heart was pounding his chest. "Yes," you promised him. "I can take you. Give it to me, baby, please."

"All right." Pinning you down between him and the wall, Oliver started to slowly thrust into you, slowly drawing his hips back and then snapping them forth, burying his cock completely into your tight hole every time.

“Ah, ah, ah,” you moaned, shutting your eyes tightly and squirming a little as the tense pressure rippled through your pussy and sent waves of pleasure through your tummy.

Oliver groaned, relieved that he was able to press you down against the wall because it helped him to redirect some of the furious energy running through his body.  In all his life, Oliver had never truly felt strong (only stronger than yesterday, and even then, he felt like he was barely staying ahead of the cut line), which was part of the reason he pushed himself so hard on training.  But being with you and feeling how soft and little you were when he had you like this, he was suddenly terrified of how much stronger he might be than you.  He didn’t want to hurt you, he only wanted to protect you, keep you safe, and love you…  So even now, though he was thrusting into you quite deeply, unable to resist how good your sweet, tight pussy felt wrapped around his cock, he also focused hard on making sure you were safely in his arms and that helped him to stay in control, to keep from following his instincts and thrusting outright into you.  But it helped immensely for Oliver to be able to grip your hands and press them hard into the tile behind you, and to know that he was holding you up, serving as your anchor, so he could lean into you and have that be his way of keeping you safe, even as it was a way for him to redirect some of his strength so he wouldn't accidentally hurt you.

You, meanwhile, were loving every bit of this - how Oliver had pinned you down against the wall and started fucking you properly. Your heart leapt in excitement and anticipation, and you did your best to keep your thighs as wide open as you could, to accommodate for his strong hips slamming into you as he took you and filled you up, just as you desperately needed to be filled.

"Uhn!" you moaned out, in time to Oliver taking your tight little pussy for himself. "Uh, uh, uhn!"

"S-Shit," Oliver cursed heatedly. All this time, Oliver had ducked his head down, with his cheek grazing yours, as he tried desperately to focus on you without overwhelming you or letting himself go too early. But now, he lifted his head and bit down hard on his lower lip as he was starting to get a bit overwhelmed with just how tight and how wet you were getting for him. Fuck, he moaned loudly in his head.  She feels so good, uhn, Godric, I want to - uhn, no, I can't do this too early. I can't, I can't, I can't - But fuck, I can't help it. She feels so good. She's so tight and all warm and slick and I - I want to - No, I need to, I need to fucking cum in her. I want to make her pussy mine, want to make all of her mine - uhn!

Slap, slap, slap, slap, slap - Oliver's thighs kept meeting yours, with water droplets flying off both of your thighs as he fucked you steadily down.

You were panting hard into Oliver's chest and although Oliver was still pinning your hands down on the wall behind you, you were gripping his hands back so tightly that your nails dug into the back of his hands. 

"Baby," Oliver growled into your ear, "oh, fuck, mmm, feels so good, so fucking g-good."

"Ah, O-Oliver!" you moaned. "Ah, ah, ah!"

His cock was slamming into your pussy now, over and over and over again. Your breath kept catching, your thighs began to tremble more and more, and then your tummy started to cave in slightly. You gritted your teeth. Oh God, you whimpered in your head.  S-So close…! Ah, keep going, Oliver, please, please, please - ! That tight curl started to appear in your pussy, getting more and more tense as Oliver kept hitting up against you in that perfect spot. 

Suddenly, it was unbearable - in the best, most heavenly sense. "Ah!” you burst out.  “I-I’m c-cumming! Nngh!”  You gasped and arched your back, pressing your tummy hard into Oliver’s abs and thrusting your breasts up into the air.

Still keeping you against the wall (even more firmly now as Oliver sensed you needed him to be your anchor as you let go), Oliver kissed your breasts heatedly through your soaked shirt, and he admired how the water streamed down your body so beautifully, from your shoulders to your breasts to your tummy and down to your open thighs, until it dripped off of your knees and feet.  At that moment, the water splashed a little against your shoulders as you shuddered.  "Ahhh...!" You let out a trembling, aching whine as your pussy spasmed hard, clenching all over Oliver’s cock.

Feeling you get unbearably tight around him, Oliver groaned heavily, "Fuck!"  His hips clenched, and then stuttered. His first instinct was to respond in kind. You had given him what he wanted. Your pussy squeezing all over his cock, and your sweet, wet cum covering his cock told him all too well that you were feeling such intense pleasure with him. And Oliver wanted to respond to kind, to now give you what, clearly, your pussy was begging for. But his mind was telling him otherwise, that it was too much too fast, and he needed to hold himself together for you. I want her to be safe with me, he knew, and that made him hold back. But his body trembled with the effort of holding back, and he was quickly getting overwhelmed with these two deep desires crashing against each other. It was all so complicated - but why? When all he wanted was you.

A bit abruptly, Oliver picked you up.  Hooking his arms under your legs, he pushed you up a little higher on the wall.  You gasped in surprise as you found yourself lifted up, but there was little time to react because Oliver was pushing himself back inside of you, burying his cock in your dripping wet cunt now. With you pinned to the wall, Oliver had an easier time pressing into you. You let out a long, aching groan. Your pussy was still so tight and pulsing heavily from just cumming, and Oliver chose that moment to push his cock hard against your core.  Your pussy clenched again, and you shivered, for you were so sensitive from having just cum, and now, you were taking cock again, deep inside your aching pussy, and you were getting just as overwhelmed as Oliver was. 

“Ah!” you gasped desperately. “Oli – ah, ah, ahhh!”  You couldn’t believe how the pressure kept going.  Your arms shot out, and without really realizing it, you clutched onto Oliver, sobbing into his neck, and then – “Mm-mm-mmmmm!” You felt an incredible release rock through you, like a wave, and a second later, cum gushed out of your pussy, covering Oliver’s cock and even dripping on his thighs.

Oh God... I came again, so soon. Ah... I feel so - so feverish... You kept your face against Oliver's neck and shoulder, and you moaned heavily. At the same time, you couldn't help but notice how sturdy Oliver was, and his shoulders were so strong, and he was holding you up, not minding one bit that your thighs were shaking heavily as you came for him again.

"Oliver," you bleated out needily, and you pressed your hot, hungry mouth against his neck and sucked hard, tasting his sweet taste against your tongue.

Oliver swallowed hard.  Ah, her mouth on me... How can she drive me so crazy when she's all little like this, all gathered up in my arms? Her thighs are so soft against my arms, and I can feel her pussy, dripping wet and throbbing hotly on my cock. Mm, yeah, she feels so good on my cock.  Such a wet, tight pussy… Keeping his cock pushed all the way inside of you while you were folded up against the wall, Oliver shifted his hips hungrily, making you feel every inch of his cock all along your spasming pussy walls.

You bleated out a soft whimper. You loved that Oliver was giving himself to you like that, but also a bit overwhelmed at how he wasn’t letting up.  Feeling his cock still pressing up relentlessly against your core, you thought blearily to yourself, If – If he keeps up like this, keeping himself buried in me like this, he’s gonna – he’s gonna cum in me for sure… And then, you thought immediately, I really hope so.

Yes, you confessed to yourself, I want that. I want him... You pressed your mouth against his neck again, but you only managed to do so for a short while before you had to lift your head up because Oliver was starting to thrust again, with his hips and thighs working hard to take you.  Feeling how incredibly wet you were, he knew he didn’t have to hold back as much.  Thank Godric for that, because I don't think I can hold myself back much longer, Oliver thought to himself. That last time that she came, I thought - I nearly - Uhn, yeah, nearly came right in her perfect little pussy right back. Swallowing hard, Oliver held you in his arms, thighs up, and he fucked your pussy steadily now, until your feet were flopping softly in the air with each thrust he gave you.

"Ah, ah...! O-Oliver, ah!" You held onto him for dear life, moaning away as if your life depended on it because he was giving it to you so, so good. Your pussy was flushing all pink and hot as he kept driving his cock deep inside of you. This is the other side of Oliver, you supposed, the focused version of him, the version that never lets up and gives all of himself to the moment… And I love it.  He takes me so, so well, and I adore how he does it.  Mmm… So deep in my pussy, yes!

You did find the wherewithal somehow to ask him, in-between moans, “Are you – Are you gonna – ah – cum in my pussy?”

The way you asked him that question, as if he could, made Oliver’s mind spin.  His heart pounding in his chest, Oliver asked you, in an almost begging voice, “I don't - uhn - I want - Uh, c-can I?”

You’d nodded and answered, “Mhm, yeah, please,” and that cute, casual answer poked at some strange, primal, needy bit of Oliver that he hadn’t even known existed within him.

“Fuck,” he breathed out, and then panted hard, and then repeated again, “Fuck.” 

You laughed a little, though the sound was a bit breathless, and you whispered, “Yeah? You like that? You want to cum in me?"

Oliver meant to say, "yes," and he meant to sound strong and in-charge about, but all he could do was let out a whimpered, breathy little, "Yeah."

But you didn't seem to care at all, unless it was to adore him more, because you whimpered back, between pants, "Then d-do it. P-Please, Oliver, let me have y-your cum in m-my pussy, please, please!"

And God damn it all if he wasn’t going to give you what you were asking for, Oliver swore to himself.  Finally certain of what you wanted, Oliver felt his mind shut off, and, with great relief, was able to just sink into loving you. Oliver's breaths came in hard pants now, sometimes cutting off in harsh growls that rumbled deep in his chest as he pushed himself now. He was chasing something with you – what exactly, he couldn’t tell you, but it was intense and all-consuming and it felt so, so good.  All of the tension that Oliver had been feeling since you got on your knees for him - no, since he'd kissed you on that broomstick - was spilling out of him, with no restraint, and he was loving you, and loving you, and loving you until –

“Ah!”

“Uhn!”

Your sweet, soft moan and his hard, heavy grunt mixed in the air as Oliver slammed his throbbing, heavy cock deep into your perfect little cunt one more time and then – His groan came out low and rough, but then he let out a harsh growl that made your eyes widen a bit as he came inside of you. 

"A-Ah," you stuttered out, feeling Oliver release inside of you. "Oli - ah - ver."

Oliver let out a hard huff, and he stayed buried inside of you as he came.

O-Oh, oh God, your mind whispered, he’s cumming in me.  Ah, it feels so good.  Yes, yes, yes, filling me up, my love… Mmm…  You wrapped your shaking arms around Oliver’s neck and you lifted your head and managed to plant a kiss on the top of his head.  Oliver was still holding you up by your thighs, his hips pinning yours down, but his head had slowly drooped down as he became more and more focused on driving his cock deep into your sweet cunt, until his chin kept brushing up against your left shoulder.

Now, Oliver drew a long, deep breath and lifted his head. As he straightened up, he kept his cock sheathed inside of you, and you felt him still nestled up deep inside of you as he shifted. Nngh, you thought, moaning softly to yourself, keeping his cock in me even after he’s cummed in me.  Oh God, he’s giving me everything, making sure I’m full of him.  Ah… Oliver, my Oliver, you said to yourself, and it was the happiest phrase you had ever known.

“Are you okay?” Oliver asked you, still breathing heavily.  “I think I got… a bit carried away there.”  He slowly pulled out of you now.  You moaned softly and your head fell back against the wall. 

“Sweetheart?” Oliver questioned again, gazing at you with his brow furrowed.  

“Just… Ah… G-Give me a moment,” you breathed out.  You feverishly ran your hands all over your body, and Oliver noted with disappointment that you were still wearing your shirt, though it had been soaked through so thoroughly that he could see right through it. Then, you spread your hands over your thighs and you mumbled out, almost to yourself, “Mm, came so deep in me, baby… Ah, yes…” Your head fell softly to the side, and you panted quietly. Your thighs slowly stopped shuddering, and Oliver watched as his cum slowly dripped out of your pink, pulsing pussy.  His mouth fell open a little.  That… I did that… Shit.  He swallowed heavily.  For a moment, he wasn’t sure how he felt about it.  All he cared about was how you felt about it.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he asked softly. 

You opened your eyes, a bit misty-eyed, and you smiled at him, with your cheeks flushed pink. You then shook your head, reassuring him that you were fine - more than fine.

However, Oliver needed more reassurance than that. Shutting off the water at long last, he carried you carefully out of the shower into the empty locker room.  He managed to fetch a towel while still keeping you in his arms.

You smiled at how Oliver was still carrying you.  Does he realize he’s not letting me go?  He hasn’t put me down once.  He must be tired.  You put your hands on his chest and murmured, “You can put me down, sweetheart.  My legs might be a bit wobbly, after all that, but I can manage.”

“Oh… Right.  Sorry.”  Oliver quickly laid down another towel for you to sit on, and then he draped another towel around your shoulders.  A second later, another towel appeared, covering your lap.

You blinked in surprise.  Then, you started laughing at how many towels had appeared in the span of one blink. 

Oliver sat next to you, and he studied you closely, as if worried that you were laughing because you’d lost your senses.

“Oliver, I’m okay!” you assured him brightly.  “I’m just basking in the aftermath of it all. So, you don’t have to look at me like that, all worried and like.  Besides, aren’t you going to take care of yourself?” Oliver was sitting there, totally naked and still dripping wet, hunched over a little as he studied your expression, while you were sitting in a pile of towels.  As you were still holding the first towel Oliver had handed to you, you draped it around his shoulders now.  You also unfolded the one on your lap and reaching over, you started to towel-dry his hair for him.

Oliver grasped your wrists in his hands, making you stop.  “Wait.  I know you said it was okay, but I - I, um, came in you. It really wasn’t too much for you? I mean, you were full of me - ” He cut off, embarrassed at the words coming out of his mouth. At the same time, his grip tightened on your wrists, as if he had half a mind to yank you right back into the shower for another round at that very moment. But Oliver waited, wanting desperately to hear your reply.

“It was exactly what I wanted,” you assured him.  “You did so well for me, and it felt so good.” You cocked your head at him and questioned, "Did it not feel good for you?"

“Of course it felt good for me,” Oliver replied straightforwardly.  “I mean, that was - ” Words failed him for a moment.  He shook his head and returned to his point, “But I’m worried that for you, it might have felt different and regardless of what it felt like for me, you shouldn't hide how you're feeling if it was too much for you, even a little bit.”

“Oh, Oliver, you're so sweet, to worry about me, but... Well, you have no idea,” you said, gently drawing your hands away from him. 

“No idea what?” Oliver's brow furrowed as he regarded you intently.

You started drying your own hair and closing your eyes, you sighed softly as you confessed, in a dreamy, lovestruck voice, “How good it feels, to have someone you adore cum in you like that. Mm...”

“Oh.”  Oliver felt so stupid, saying “oh” to such a profound remark, but he didn’t know how else to respond to that.  He did try his best, though, as he sweetly tried to help put your hair in a ponytail (he failed, with his hands clumsily missing strands and unsure of how to knot the band), tried to magick your clothes dry for you (which he did, but he accidentally Vanished your left sock so he went and fetched one of his clean red-and-yellow striped socks from his locker), and tried to keep checking in on your expression, while his own expression was so earnest and soft that it made you giggle so long that your tummy hurt.

Finally, when you were both dry and dressed again, you snuck out of the locker rooms together, keeping to the walls until you were behind the building.  Then, out of nowhere, Oliver picked you up off your feet, carrying you princess-style.

You let him start walking while in his arms, but you put your hand on his chest and told him again, “Really, you don’t have to be so worried about me when something wonderful happened.”

“It’s not that I’m worried,” Oliver replied quietly.  “I believe you when you say you’re okay.”

“Oh.  Well, good.”  You looked up at him, wondering why he was spoiling you like this then.

Seeing your curious gaze, Oliver said simply, “I just like having you in my arms, that’s all.”

You smiled.  “Okay, then.”  You lifted your head and gave him a soft, loving kiss under the jaw. Then, hoping to lighten the mood a little, in case Oliver was still anxious about something despite his words, you said, with satisfaction evident in your voice, "I think we fit rather well together, don't you?"

Oliver seemed to blush a little, and you smiled happily to yourself, finding him quite cute like this. You added on soothingly, "And now you don't have to worry about cumming too soon ever again, as long as you do it inside me - "

"Shush," Oliver said suddenly, with his cheeks definitely pinkening now. "If you say it like this, it'll make me - I mean, we'll miss dinner if you - if you keep this up."

"Ah, okay." You fell silent, then, but you had to bring your hand to your mouth to cover your pleased smile.

A few minutes passed as Oliver quietly carried you across the grounds.  But then, as he was approaching the castle, he spoke first, murmuring aloud softly, “We do fit well together. I mean, I didn’t know that sex could feel like that.  I didn’t know that being with someone could feel so…”

“So?”

Oliver thought for a moment, before he decided, "Intense.  As if it’s only you and me in the world.”

“And Diggory,” you said wryly.

At this, Oliver couldn’t help but smile.  “I was about two seconds away from chucking him and his broomstick out of the locker room myself.”

You laughed.  “I would have cheered you on, believe me.” Then, you added truthfully, "Although I was surprised you let him have the Quidditch pitch. I wouldn't think you wanted the Hufflepuff Seeker to practice so much."

"Don't worry, Harry will be quite busy next week," Oliver replied at once, dead serious.

"Pft..." You laughed again. "Well, but he's only a first year, remember. You shouldn't tire him out."

"Tiring yourself out is the only way to build stamina," Oliver explained to you, suddenly in Captain mode. "Overexertion is what you need to avoid. That's an important difference and every athlete knows it."

"Ah, well, that explains why I don't know the difference," you pointed out.

Oliver lifted his eyebrow at you. "No, you can't say that anymore. C'mon, you're my ace."

Your heart fluttered at this, and you pressed your hand a little harder against his chest, right over his heart. But you only murmured softly, "Watch your step now, Captain Wood, eyes on the ground."

"Right. Although, we're here anyways."

It was true. The two of you had come before the castle doors. 

"Thanks for the ride," you said cheerfully.

"Mhm." Oliver gently set you on your feet, but he kept his hands on your waist and stepped close to you.  Closing his eyes and resting his forehead on yours, he murmured quietly, “Sorry if I'm being overbearing. But I..." He hesitated, finding it hard to put into words what he was feeling. You waited patiently, sliding your hands reassuringly up and down on his arms. Finally, Oliver said, "I reckon I’ve never felt about anyone or anything the way I feel about you.”

“Not even Quidditch?” you said, a bit playfully. "All that talk about those golden hoops - "

“Nothing,” Oliver said. "I mean, Quidditch is my life, yes. But what I'm talking about - it's different. It's completely different."

You realized he was dead serious.  “Oh…”

Oliver opened his eyes.  Gazing down at you with a fierce, earnest look in his eyes, he whispered, “But if I tell you that, won’t you get scared?  And if I admit that seeing you like that, all – um – all full of me, that it made me want you even more, that it’s going to make me dream about you all the time… won’t you think I’m strange?  What if I’m… too much for you?”

“Oh,” you breathed out, suddenly understanding why he was so worried.  I see. He's holding himself back, worried of what I might think of him. You gripped the front of his shirt tightly with both hands, but you kept your voice light as you told him, "Silly."

Oliver's eyes widened, but you continued on, "It's like I said before, you have no idea how much I want you. No matter how much you want me, just know that I’m already there, waiting for you to remember me and come meet me." You gave the front of his shirt a little tug as you insisted, "Okay? So, no more worries about this." Your eyes flickered up to meet his, and the sunset light, now settling down across the castle grounds, glimmered in your eyes.  Oliver could see the emotions in your eyes, and he knew you meant every word as you repeated the phrase that Oliver had said to you today a hundred times while you were on that broomstick – “I’ve got you.”

Oliver’s eyes softened, and then, a smile appeared on his lips.  He let out the deep breath he’d been holding, and he relaxed.  He hugged you, then, wrapping his arms around you tightly. You hugged him back at once, sinking right into his chest like you had belonged there since day one. Oliver vaguely wondered if you could feel his heartbeat, thumping hard in his chest, as you pressed your cheek against his chest.  He tried to stroke your hair, and he awkwardly got his finger stuck in your terrible ponytail for a second before he managed to untangle himself and actually stroke your head.  You tried to hide your laughter, but Oliver felt you smile against his chest.

“Hey,” he chided you, “I’ve never done a ponytail before, okay? It was harder than I thought.”

“I know, I know,” you said hastily, trying to squash your laughter.  You looked up at Oliver and beamed at him, so happy to be like this with him.

Oliver softened completely, bringing his hand to stroke your cheek.  “Hi, ace," he murmured.

You turned your head to kiss his hand.  "Hi," you said softly. Then, at long last, you were the one who asked first, “Shall we head up together?”

And Oliver replied, with warmth flooding his voice, “Yeah, let's go in together."

It became a weekly ritual for you to curl up with one of the books that Remus had gotten you, accompanied by a mug of tea, and to read for an hour or so before bed.  Often, Remus would join you, though he was usually writing instead of reading.

You would occasionally glance over to see what he was writing.  Sometimes, it was a report for Dumbledore.  But other times, you would see the words ‘Dear Mum and Dad,’ at the top of the letter, and you realized that Remus was writing to his parents frequently now.  You didn’t mention anything about it, but you watched Remus curiously, wondering if everything had been mended with his parents or else, why they were writing to each other so often. 

One night, you went to put away your book on the bookshelf, when it slid out of your hand and onto the floor.   You knelt down and picked the book up, only to see that a page had been crumpled up a bit.  You tried to smooth it out.  As you did, you remembered a promise you had once made to a very grumpy Potions professor.  Hm, you thought, I wonder if I’ve made any earnings from my publication yet.  Maybe if I scrape whatever I have together, I’ll be able to make the purchase. 

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

So, it was that, about a month later, Severus Snape was all but attacked by a gigantic, flamboyantly feathered, and overly eager owl in the Great Hall.  By the time he managed to grab the parcel from the owl, students from every table were laughing at him.  Fuming, Severus took the parcel up to his office and ripped it open.  A new copy of the Breakdown of Physical Reactions Between Magical Plants and Stones lay within.  But then, something else fell out of the parcel wrappings.  He picked up what looked like a Christmas cracker and pulled it open.  Pop!  Severus yelped and stepped back.  Then, his upper lip curled up into a most displeased sneer as he found himself staring at a familiar green witch’s hat, topped with a vulture.  At once, he swept it off of his desk, offended by the mere sight of it. 

Shaking his head and grumbling to himself, Severus opened the letter tucked inside the front jacket of the book.  He recognized your script, which read: Sev  - I didn’t forget my promise to you.  The Christmas Cracker is from Remus – I’m not entirely sure what’s inside it and I’m not sure why we’re sending you a Christmas Cracker in March, but he said that you’ll know exactly what to do with it.  Take care now.

Severus rolled his eyes at your note.  He tucked the note back inside the book, which he slid onto his bookcase.  As for the hat, it had the most unfortunate fate of being taken outside by Severus, who punted it as hard as he could through the air towards the Whomping Willow, which grabbed the hat out of mid-air and tore it apart savagely.

That damned werewolf, Severus thought furiously, stalking back up to the castle, who does he think he is, taunting me like that?  He saw Remus’s face in his mind, always with that careful, but quite pleased smile.  Severus mused angrily, He’s as bad as the others were, he simply hides it better, the devil. 

But then, for some nonsensical reason, Severus heard your voice in his mind, asking him curiously, You don’t

find Remus handsome?

Handsome? Severus jeered in his mind. That pathetic little werewolf man?  Severus snorted so loudly that Mrs. Norris, who was standing guard by the front doors of the castle, started and let out a surprised, irritated mew.

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

Back at Grimmauld Place, you welcomed back the large owl you had sent to deliver the book to Snape.  You petted the owl on his head, slipped a Sickle into its money pouch on its foot, and gave him food and water.  “You can rest here before you fly back,” you told him, for the owl belonged with the publisher.  “Thank you.  I know that was a heavy book."

Watching the owl devour the food ravenously, you murmured, "I guess I know now why Sirius chose you. You're clearly a strong bird.  I bet that Potions book was nothing to you."  In fact, the publisher had sent you an entire list of owl options to choose for sending the book, but for some reason, Sirius had been adamant on choosing this particular owl. 

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

A week ago, you had been sitting on the couch with Remus, flipping through the catalogue of owls.  Chewing on your lower lip, you mused, “I’m not sure which owl to pick.  I think the textbook is quite heavy, so probably a larger owl, but I don’t know how large, exactly.”

Sirius had piped up then.  “Listen, I’ve learnt a thing or two about owls.  Since I’ve been on the run, I’ve been using different owls and birds every time I have to send something to Harry.  I reckon I can guess a bird’s temperament pretty well just by looking at them.”

“Well, fine,” you’d replied. “Pick one that’s low-key, please.  You know how Severus is.  I wouldn’t want to annoy him with a fussy owl.”

“Of course not,” Sirius had said.  You’d missed the soft smirk playing at his lips as he eased the catalogue out of your hands, as well as the suspicious, yet cautiously amused look that Remus shot Sirius as Sirius began to thumb through the pages, whistling as he went. 

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

Now, Remus, who was penning yet another letter to his parents, looked up from the desk to see you taking care of the owl. “Did your parcel reach Severus, then?”

 “Yes, I think so.”

“Oh, good.” Remus put his head back down and then – scritch, scritch, scritch – the sound of the quill on parchment rang out. 

You studied Remus for a second.  Hm, he asked so nonchalantly about the parcel, and yet – is it just me or is there a bit of a smile playing on his lips?  You walked over to him, but Remus did not look up – and that was your sign that Remus was indeed hiding something from you.  You softly cleared your throat.

Too quickly, Remus responded, “Yes, my dear?”

“You didn’t want to tell me before what you and Sirius sent to Snape,” you reminded him.  “You insisted that it would be better if Severus took it as a surprise.” 

“Ah." An inscrutable expression appeared on Remus' face.  A moment later, he said lightly, "Well, you know what it was – a Christmas cracker.”

“But in March?"

Remus merely smiled mysteriously at you.

You folded your arms over your chest. "More importantly, what was inside the cracker?  You never gave me a straight answer and before I could insist, Sirius had packed it all up and sent the bird off.”

A light danced merrily in Remus’s eyes. “Let’s just say that even the best of us must be humbled by the great Augusta Longbottom every once in a while, even if indirectly.” 

You scrunched your nose up in confusion.  “What? Was I supposed to understand that? Because I couldn't comprehend any part of it."

Remus chuckled.  “That’s all right, Lovely.”  He stood up, walked around the desk, and pulled you into his arms.  “It’s really between me, Sirius, and Snivellus – ah, I mean, Severus, anyways.”

“Hm,” you said, still eyeing him skeptically, but allowing yourself to be pulled into an embrace.  “I think I’m learning more about you, Remus, and your – what shall we call it?”

Remus suggested, murmuring quietly in your ear, "Brilliance?  Humor?  Good taste?”

You settled on, “Tendency for wickedness.”

Remus’ eyes grew wide – and then he burst into laughter.  He attacked you with kisses, then, while still chuckling.

“Ah – Remus – what?” you breathed out, surprised by the flurry of kisses he planted on your face.

“I adore you, Lovely, d’you know that?” Remus whispered lovingly.  “Of everyone I’ve ever met, no one sees me as accurately as you do.”

“You like me saying that you’re wicked?” you said, confused.

Remus, still holding you tightly in his arms, nuzzled his nose with yours as he murmured, “I do, I do, I do.”

“Oh,” you said softly, as you were treated to more of Remus’s kisses across your cheeks.  “How strange of you, Remus.”

“Wicked and strange – that’s me,” Remus said teasingly.  “And yet you insist on being with me, Lovely, so you must be foolish and strange.”  He kissed the top of your head.  “Mr. Wicked and Ms. Foolish, what a life we’ll have.”

“I don’t know what’s gotten into you,” you said, laughing despite yourself.  But in fact, you knew perfectly well that this teasing, fun-loving, and rather mischievous side had always been a part of Remus.  His ‘Marauder’ side, you recognized.  Your heart warmed as you realized that Remus showed you this side of himself more often now because he finally felt free and safe enough to do so. 

“Well,” you told him resignedly, “I s’pse I'll have to have my little adventures, after all, and you'll have to have your little pranks.” 

"I suppose so," Remus said tenderly.

Remus kissed you again, and this time, he gently pinned you down against the edge of his desk. You breathed out when you felt his hands slip up over your thighs and grasp at your belt. He undid it quickly and pulled it off. A soft clink sounded out, as the belt fell to the floor.

Remus whispered wantingly, right in your ear, "Lovely..."

You ran your hands along his chest and yanked open the top few buttons of his shirt as you told him cheekily, “It’s Ms. Foolish now.  You can’t take that back.”

Remus grinned at you, and then he leaned down and pressed his lips against yours once more.  This time, a little growl slipped out of him as he kissed you quite fervently.  And there’s my ‘werewolf’ Remus, you recognized happily.  Oh, I’m so happy that he shows me all of him now.  No more secrets, no more lies, no more anything – just us.  Just us, with our tiny, insignificant lives, and all the love in the universe contained therein. 

You felt Remus's hands slip under the waistband of your pants, then, and he yanked your hips to the edge of the desk.  “Ah,” you breathed out.  You had barely blinked when you felt Remus strip your pants off of you.  In reply, you slid your hands under Remus’ shirt, intending to tug it off of him so that you could admire him a little and hopefully get to hug him tight to you once he was inside you.  You loved feeling his bare chest pressing into you, almost as much as you loved feeling his hands all over you. But before you could do so, Remus leaned forward, his hips pushing your thighs open.  He grasped your shirt, which was a button-up, on either side – and proceeded to rip it open.  You gasped, as Remus hungrily pressed his mouth all over your breasts. A moment later, he grasped at your bra and yanked it down rather roughly, to kiss you all over your breasts.

“O-Oh…!”  Your eyes widened and you naturally started to move your hips against Remus, for feeling his warm, wet mouth pressing kisses and soft bites all over your breasts was fast making you all heated and feverish for him.

“So soft, Lovely,” Remus whispered, biting lightly at your nipple.  “Always so soft for me.”  You squirmed under him.  You buried your hands in his hair and tugged him towards you, wanting him to suck at your breasts harder. Remus groaned, and then, burying his face against you, he complied, taking as much of your soft breast as he could in his mouth and sucking hard.

“Ah,” you breathed out, exhaling sharply.

Remus palmed your other breast furiously, rubbing your nipple hotly against his hand.  You moaned loudly, a bit taken aback by how overstimulated you were already, just by having Remus touch and kiss your breasts like this.  Meanwhile, Remus was still fully dressed. You tried again to push your hands up Remus’s shirt, but he was touching you and tasting you all over and before you knew it, your hands had fallen back yet again, slamming against the edge of the desk as you fought to keep steady on your feet. 

Wanting to touch him, you bleated out, “R-Rem, ah, your shirt – You’re still – still wearing it…”  

Remus replied in a muffled voice, for his head was still buried at your chest – “Yes, and so?”

“Well, um,” you murmured, as you hurriedly placed your hands on Remus – half to support yourself as you sat up and half to keep him at bay from getting you all heated and feverish before you’d even had a chance to think.  Breathing quite loudly, you barely managed to sit up.  Somehow, you were already dazed, your hair slightly messy in the back, your button-up ripped open and hanging loosely at your sides, and your breasts marked-up all pink from Remus’s loving bites.  Finally, you managed to say, “But I want to - want to t-touch you too.”  

Remus chuckled softly.  “Well, that’s your problem, isn’t it?”  He grasped your hips and then gently slid you up onto the desk, so that you were completely sitting, right at the edge of the desk. Sitting you down like that, he told you matter-of-factly, "I'm afraid I'm only concerned with loving you, so whether my shirt is on or off is not of my concern." As he spoke, he ran his hands lightly down either side of your ripped-open shirt. He said softly, "I believe I've solved my half of the issue."

You half-scowled and half-pouted at him. Remus smiled politely back at you, while a quite bright, but elusive light danced in his eyes.

"Fine," you griped, and you tried yet again to tug his shirt off of him. Only, you had just managed to grasp the hem of his shirt and pull it up to his chest, when Remus gently but firmly grasped his hands in yours and yanking your hands away from him, he instead pinned your hands down on the desk. At the same time, Remus leaned forward, with his hips pushing against yours, so that you had to fall back entirely on the desk for him.

“Rem,” you moaned needily, “Please…”

“Please what?” Remus said softly.  Having pinned you on the desk, he looked down at you with half-lidded eyes.

“Please… Please…”  You mumbled out vaguely, as you couldn’t remember what point you had been about to make, if ever you had had one, because the way Remus was looking at you was quite… Quite something, you thought, and you swallowed hard.  “Um…”

“Tsk,” Remus said lowly, teasing you, but speaking rather seriously all the same, “there you go again, Ms. Foolish.”  Then, he bent down and pressed his lips warmly against yours.

You sighed in happiness, but when you tried to slip your hands away from his, Remus tightened his fingers around yours, keeping you just as you were. 

As Remus kissed you, pressing you softly but firmly into the desk underneath you, you abruptly recalled what you had meant to say to him.  “‘S unfair,” you breathed out, mumbling against Remus’s lips.  “I’m almost entirely undressed, and you’ve still got your stupid shirt on.”   

Remus smiled before he cheekily bit your lower lip.  You moaned again, and Remus replied to you lowly, “As I said, I rather think that’s your issue, Ms. Foolish.  Because I…”  He leaned over you even more, pinning you firmly down on the desk with his hips.  He then reached down, and you could feel his warm, broad hands grazing the back of your thighs.  “…Have what I want.”

“Oh…” Your breath hitched as Remus pushed your thighs up. 

“Put your hands where mine are, darling,” Remus said, still in that soft, tender voice of his that betrayed just how much he adored you.  “Hold your thighs up for me, please, and forget about my shirt.”

You wanted to argue, but damn it all if Remus didn’t look irresistible when he was looking down at you like this and guiding you so patiently, yet so firmly… Day by day, little by little, he’s more open about what he wants, and less afraid of asking for it.  Your heart gave a little thump, and you felt a little thump between your thighs as well.  Before you knew it, you were grasping onto your own thighs and holding them up for Remus, just as he asked.

“Fuck,” Remus said hungrily, seeing your pussy lips pushing up gently against the soft strip of fabric covering you.   The way that you were holding yourself up for him, neatly tucking your legs in so he could see exactly how you wanted him, needed him, with your shapely little ass all propped up right at the edge of the desk and your pretty cunt begging to be filled… It made Remus’s head spin.  Stomach clenching as the desperate need to be inside of you now devoured him, Remus found himself instantly reaching for his belt.  In one clean tug, he yanked it off, and then he pulled out his cock, already throbbing rather heavily for you, out of his pants and briefs.  You started to make a movement as if to help him, but Remus growled, “Stay right there.  Stay right there, just like that.”

You stilled at once, clutching your thighs once more.  A sweet, but rather frenzied sense of anticipation suddenly rose up in your tummy, as Remus’s growl ran through you.  When he speaks to me like that, mm, I don’t think I’ll ever get over it, you thought to yourself. 

Remus stepped forward. He pulled your panties aside and pinned them down with one hand.  Then, he reached down with his other hand and stroked his cock a few times in his hand. 

Mm, you thought again, heart thrumming with anticipation.  Yes, oh yes, please…

Remus guided himself to you, and he ran the length of his cock over your clit, making you both slick and wet.  You inhaled sharply, with your tummy sucking in for a moment. 

“Sweetheart,” Remus breathed out.

“Y-Yes?”

“I know I’m rushing a little, but do you think you can take me now?” 

You nodded eagerly. 

“All right.  But you must tell me if it hurts.”

You nodded again, promising him that you would.

“Good girl,” Remus said softly, smiling a little at you, for you looked so beautiful to him like this.  All eager for me, my love… He then pushed himself inside of you, rather wantingly.

“Ah!” you gasped, feeling his cock delve inside of your pussy, pushing apart your soft, warm walls.

Remus took a deep breath, stilling when he felt how tight you were.  He began to move his hips softly against you, giving you time to adjust before working his way deeper inside of you.  But you must have been feeling quite flustered after all, Remus noted, for while you were quite tight, with your pussy already grasping all over his cock in a way that made his cock throb heavily, you were fast becoming all slick for him as well.  

“Mm, you are ready to take me, aren’t you?” Remus murmured, as he kept pushing himself into you, having you take more of him in, little by little.  “All wet already, darling.”  He pushed in a little harder.  You shivered slightly, and you held onto your thighs tighter, with your nails pressing slightly into your plush thighs.

Remus put his hands out on either side of you. Leaning forward, he began to thrust into you.

“Ah!” you cried out, feeling his cock push hotly inside of you.

Remus groaned slightly, right into your ear.  Then, he thrust again, harder.

“Ah, ah, ah,” you moaned, shuddering underneath him now.  He was starting to stretch you out, and it felt amazing. 

Remus felt your cunt throb on his cock, squeezing him. He breathed out heavily, with a slight rasp entering his breaths now.  Tightening his abs, Remus began to take you in earnest, making your tight, wet pussy work to take him now, work to take his thick, hard cock delving deep into you.

You moaned again, feverishly.  Oh Gods, oh, oh, oh…!  Squeezing your eyes shut, you let yourself get lost in this intense, tight feeling of having Remus inside of you, filling you up so well.

Groaning heavily, Remus pushed his cock inside of your plush, wet, little pussy over and over again – in and out, and in and out, and in and out - until you were wet all over your cunt. Soft slapping sounds of skin meeting skin sounded out rather lewdly, filling the room with a steady rhythm, interrupted and punctuated only by your raspy, needy little moans and Remus’s heavy pants.  

But while you were lying there, taking Remus’s cock, and feeling quite satisfied, Remus began to feel more and more desperate.  He growled lowly, as he felt his need for you – to be with you – forming in his chest, until it threatened to choke him.  A deep moan escaped him as he half-instructed and half-begged you, “Hold your legs up a little higher, darling, please.”

“Like – Like this?” you bleated out, between hard breaths.

Remus nodded feverishly, while he stepped closer to the edge of the table, and to you.  Grabbing your hips, he pulled you down against him, until you were flush to him, and at the same time, he buried himself entirely inside of you.

“A-Ah! Hah, ah!” you gasped loudly. 

“Uhn,” Remus groaned heavily, almost slumping over you as sheer relief flooded over him.  “Yes,” he breathed out, praising you, “just like that.”  He felt how he was completely nestled inside of you, with your pussy walls all warm and soft and tight around his length.

You whimpered in a tight, little voice, "Oh God."

Remus closed his eyes and moaned heavily, right into your ear, “Godric, you feel so good.”

Still clutching onto your thighs, you tried your best to stay still for Remus.  But the thing was that not only was Remus pressing down on you, with his chest pushing gently into you and pinning you down against the desk, but he was also entirely inside of you, which meant that the tip of his cock was pressing quite hard right on your – your spot.  You gulped slightly, as you felt a tense wave start to curl up and build in your pussy and in your tummy.  You bit down hard on your lower lip, and you tried to remain still, knowing how good you must feel for Remus right now, but – but – but – Despite your best efforts, you began to squirm slightly under Remus.  However, your movement only made you feel Remus that much deeper inside of you, as you were shifting atop the table, making Remus’s cock rub hotly inside of your pussy, all up and down your pussy and all the way into your tummy, it seemed like –

“Lovely?” Remus whispered, opening his eyes.  He put his hands down on the table and lifted himself a little.  As he did so, he accidentally shifted his hips forward a little, thrusting gently into you while he was already buried deep inside you –

You broke.  “Mm, mm, Re – ah!”   

Remus’s eyes widened, as he felt your legs shudder violently around him. 

“Nngh! Ah, Remus! Right there!" you begged suddenly.  “O-Oh Gods, please, right there.”

Remus bit down on his lower lip, as he realized what was happening.  Yes, that’s Lovely’s spot, deep inside of her pussy.  I know, because it’s where she’s the most soft and warm.  It’s that same spot that makes her cum when she’s on all fours for me and I thrust hard into her from behind, and she loses herself entirely, collapsing on the bed.  It’s that same spot that I reached for her when she had her face in the pillow and was moaning away so cutely, while deep inside, I was fighting with myself not to breed her.  I know how to touch her, I think I learned that quickly about her, because I’m always watching her a little, always sensitive to how she’s feeling and reacting to things… And I think I know how to reach her spot from here, too.  I think I know exactly how to make her cum. 

Remus gazed down at you, and his gaze was protective, tender, and adoring, too, because of how wantingly you were asking for him. Even now, you cried out his name rather desperately – “Remus!”  

Remus leaned down and pressed his forehead against yours gently.  “Lovely,” he said warmly, “hold on, now, and let me please you.”  He kissed your cheek, clearly promising that he was going to take care of you and keep going, right at your spot, as you were begging him to do.  He also paused to bite softly at your ear, as if to tease you for how needy you were being.  You moaned longingly, and he chuckled at you, but you didn’t care, you didn’t care – because Remus was the only person in the whole world that you could be this needy with.  And Godric knew that he could be the same with you and you would do anything – anything – to give whatever he wanted to him.  But right now you needed him, you needed him bad, and even though Remus had only taken a few seconds to reassure you (and tease you a little), you felt like your heart was going to burst with impatience.

As Remus drew back from you, you stared up at him, panting heavily and thighs trembling.  Please, please, please, you whispered fervently in your mind.  Please give it to me. I need it. I need you.

Thankfully, your prayers were answered at once.  For, the next second, you blinked in surprise, as you felt Remus gently fold your legs up, until your knees were at your head.  Then, holding you down on the edge of the desk, Remus fucked his cock hard into your waiting pussy.

“Ah – Nngh!”  You gasped so loudly your breath caught at the back of your throat.  It felt like an electric jolt went off in your body, making your pussy clench hard and your entire body shiver uncontrollably. The corner of Remus’s mouth went up, for your reaction confirmed that he knew exactly how to take you. 

You blinked again, taking in with some astonishment how Remus had that little smirk on his face while he literally folded you in two atop his desk, as though he were savoring that he knew exactly how to turn you into a puddle for him.  But that thought only lasted a second, because Remus thrust into you yet again, hitting your spot fully and filling you up so deeply that your mind shut off entirely, and you fell into the strange, all-consuming carnal realm of desire.

“Ohhh,” you moaned out loudly.  A little sob escaped you, as and your toes curled up tightly.

Remus didn’t let up in the slightest, even as you were squirming all over his desk.  He did what he did best – cage you in and give you pleasure, taking you rough and hard and deep, absolutely making you his.  You were sobbing out of sheer pleasure, as Remus pushed and pushed and pushed, until – In the gentlest voice, Remus whispered to you, “You can let go, Lovely.  Cum for me.”

In that instant, hearing Remus's gentle guidance while he fucked his cock deep into your pussy, it was more than you could take - and you came undone.  “Uhn!” A loud sob wrenched out of your throat.  Your hands finally fell away from your thighs. You arched your back on the desk, with your hair sprawling across the desk around you.

Remus moaned with you, as he felt your pussy walls rippling intensely all over his cock. After a moment, he wrapped his arms around you and held you tenderly, while you shuddered all over. Your tummy buckled, and, letting out an aching, desperate moan that signaled intense release, you slumped over into Remus’s hug. 

“Uhn…” you breathed out heavily.  “Hah…ah…hah…” You buried your face against Remus’s chest.  Having him hold you like this while you came for him, taking in his warmth and scent while he was still buried deep inside of you, and feeling his arms so tight around you when you were at your most vulnerable, you felt so complete.  You nuzzled his neck with your nose, as you panted out, “O-Oh, oh, Godric… That was so - ”

Remus cupped your face in his hands and, lifting your face up, he kissed you sweetly.  You felt his lips perk up into a smile as he kissed you.  You heard him whisper softly, “I know…”

“What?” you breathed out, still panting a little, with your mouth pressed against his. 

“I know… where you want me,” Remus murmured lovingly.  “That spot that makes you feel good… I know exactly where it is.”  He sounded so content, almost proud, that he’d come to know so well the woman he loved.  And he did.  He knew your shape, your scent, your energy, and so many of your thoughts and dreams, though he was sure you would always be ahead of him in the landscape of dreams, bounding before him with endless energy to discover the more ethereal mysteries of this world – and all of these things that he knew about you, helped him to discover how to love you, which was all he ever wanted.

“You spoil me,” you murmured back.

“Is it getting spoiled if it's what you deserve?" Remus said. You felt him gently stroke your hair and then, his fingers tangled in your soft locks, as he brought you in for another fervent kiss. 

“Mm,” you sighed into his kiss.  A moment later, however, you whispered, “Only, I can’t help but think…”

“What?”

“That if you know my spot so well, you might use it to your advantage, hm?” 

Remus raised his eyebrow.  “What do you mean, ‘use it to my advantage?’”

Running your hands over his chest (still wearing his damn shirt, you noted with distaste), you told him, “You’re becoming a rather dangerous man, Remus, don’t think I haven’t noticed.  All that mischief with Snape, hm?  And you tease me in bed more than you admit to; you simply haven’t fessed up to it yet.”

“Fessed up?” Remus said, almost laughing at the phrase.  “You make it sound as if I’ve committed some great crime.  When I only intend to pleasure you…”  As he spoke, his gaze fell to your lips once more.

The two of you paused your conversation to kiss each other again.  But you managed to mumble out, “You’re slipping away from my accusations, you sneak.”

“Catch me another time,” Remus whispered back, “when I’m not busy spoiling my beloved…”

You blushed and smiled despite yourself, at his overly romantic lines.

As the two of you were holding and kissing each other all throughout this playful little conversation, Remus naturally began to move against you once more.  You were dripping wet for him now, but he was still taking you so softly, gently pushing his cock in and out of our pussy, giving you a chance to come down from the intense high he'd given you, while still letting you know that he wasn't done with you.

How lucky am I, you thought, to be with such a gentle, kind person… Though of course, I’m fast realizing that that’s not all he is or ever was.  But it only makes me love him more – how complicated Remus is, because it means his kindness is his choice. I admire that the most - that he chooses to be kind, even when he could be more powerful.  Without realizing it, you wrapped your arms around him, and you also wrapped your legs around him.  Of course, these little motions drew Remus in towards you, and his cock pushed into you a little deeper.

Remus groaned slightly into your mouth.  His hands fell from your hair to your waist, his fingers sinking into your soft skin.  You gripped his shoulders and, in time with Remus’s taking you, you shifted atop the desk, too, rolling your hips just so.

Remus’s breathing quickened considerably.  As well, his grip on your waist tightened.  You glanced down to see Remus squeezing your waist and at the same time, pistoning his hips forward, making your little pussy swallow his cock repeatedly.

You closed your eyes and leaned forward ever so slightly, just enough to clamp your mouth against Remus’s neck and moan for him.  “Mmm…!”

Remus hissed loudly.  Then, he dropped his head back and he panted heavily into the air, and at the same time, he thrust his hips up, pushing his cock deep inside of you.

“Ah!” you cried out.  For a moment, your hands shot to his arms, and you gripped at Remus to steady yourself.  As that hot, piercing feeling went through you, you found yourself tightening your legs around Remus, too, with your strong thighs wrapping around his waist.

“L-Lovely,” Remus choked out, “I’m – uhn – s-so close.” 

You felt Remus’s hands fumble down to your hips, and then he grabbed at your thighs rather clumsily.  “You have to – uhn, fuck – you have to l-let go of m-me,” Remus huffed out.

But you moaned hotly against his neck and, hugging yourself to Remus tightly, you shook your head, burying your face against his chest.  I can't let go of him now, not when I want him closer, nearer, deeper...!

“Sweetheart,” Remus whimpered, “please.”

You grabbed the front of Remus’s shirt (which was still bloody on him) and, lifting your head, you stared up at him with a fierce expression.  I want you, Remus Lupin, you told him with your eyes.  I want you and everything that comes with that.  I want a whole life with you, and only you. As long as I have a future with you, I'm not afraid. Can't you see that? Can't you acknowledge that?

Remus swallowed hoarsely.  His entire body was screaming at him to do the most pleasant and natural thing – to finish in you, to fill you all the way up with him.  There was a part of him that desperately wanted to see that irresistible sight of you, entirely full, even dripping, with him.  His heart was racing just thinking about it, and he felt his cock pulse heavily, and his thighs and abs go quite tight.  He was fucking you harder now, and not even realizing it, as this incredible vision of you, full of him, taking him to the last, filled his mind. But I can’t, he reminded himself, even though that thought filled his heart with painful regret.  I can’t do that to Lovely, and I can’t do it to a child… to… my child…

You saw a difficult battle play out in Remus’s eyes, and when his gaze softened and flickered away from yours, you understood Remus’s choice.  You immediately let your thighs fall apart, and instead, you put your feet up on the edge of the table, on either side of you, inviting Remus to press into you even harder, but not putting any pressure on him to finish inside of you.

Realizing what you were doing, Remus tried to kiss your cheek in thanks, but he was too far gone now, panting for all he was worth, his abs burning as he worked himself into your sweet cunt, while his thrusts were getting increasingly messy and desperate.  He missed and kissed your jaw instead. 

You moaned a little in confusion, but you hardly noticed, truth be told, because you were starting to lose it, too. Your breaths were fast turning into pants, as Remus drove you once again to that state of intense tension, promising sweet release with him.  “Ah,” you breathed out hotly, as you felt that telltale wave cresting in your tummy again.  “Ah, R-Rem, ah…!” 

You were still gripping the front of Remus’s shirt hard, with the fabric bunched up in your hand.  With your other hand, you managed to prop yourself up slightly on the desk, and you shifted your hips against Remus again, wanting to take as much of him as you could.

Remus let out a hard, raspy breath.  Look at Lovely, working herself so hard me… He was so close, and the sight of you working yourself on his cock, while your entire body was all flushed and feverish, and your pussy was already all glistening from when you’d cummed for him tonight – Remus moaned lowly, as he once again felt such an intense desire to make love with you completely – to finish inside of you. 

Driven to his limits and knowing that he would not be able to resist you if he kept seeing your sweet, earnest expression, and your face, all hot with pleasure, Remus abruptly grabbed you around the waist and then –

You gasped in surprise, as you suddenly found yourself bent over the table, with your breasts and tummy meeting the cold, wood desktop, and the edge of the table pushing slightly into your hips. 

“S-Sorry,” Remus panted out, as he guided you into place in a rush.  He hurriedly pushed your feet apart, having you prop yourself up for him. Then, Remus grasped your shoulders and thrust back into you. 

“Nngh!” you cried out, feeling Remus's cock slam back inside of you. He took you hard enough that you felt yourself shoved forward slightly on the desk.  Meanwhile, your thighs and back were straining as Remus gripped your shoulders hard, making you arch slightly, but your hips were pinned firmly against the desk edge.  You breathed out heavily, with your head lolling forward a little, and your tummy tightened every time Remus pushed into you.

As for Remus, as he took you again, this intense physical, earthly pleasure consumed him entirely. As a result, his mind and heart, which were struggling with all sorts of jumbled-up thoughts and emotions, began to spill out of him, without his permission.  But he couldn’t help it, he couldn’t help wanting to know if he might get to be even closer to you. While fucking you senselessly atop the desk, he abruptly blurted out, “L-Lovely, there’s – mm  - something I w-want to a-ask.” 

“Now?” you said desperately, while clutching hard at the opposite edge of the desk.

“Y-Yes,” he breathed out, as he pushed into you again.

"Ah...!" you moaned loudly. You shuddered again, so much so that Remus’s hands nearly slipped off of your shoulders.

“No, s-stay there,” Remus said to you.  “Head down, sweetheart, and - uhn - on your t-toes for me…”  To help you, he put his hand on the back of your neck and guided you down gently.  He also reached down and wrapped his other arm around your hips to yank you up softly, putting you on your toes. 

You followed him, laying down entirely on the table and shifting your weight forward and getting up on your tiptoes, so Remus could fuck your pussy as he desired.  “Like - Like that?” you asked, not realizing that you asked him this every time he asked you to get in a position.

But Remus certainly noticed, and he thought to himself that this little habit of yours was - utterly and heartbreakingly adorable. Yes, you made Remus's feeble little heart ache, with how you kept showing him how much you wanted to be there for him and to give him as much pleasure as you could. His heart spilling over with love for you, Remus leaned forward, sinking his cock all the way into you, until the tip of his cock pushed into your sweet spot again. “Mm, yes, Lovely," Remus groaned hoarsely, "like that.” 

You trembled, and your legs shivered violently, the movement accentuated because you were on your tiptoes.  Just then, your pussy wrapped around Remus’s cock, aching for another release. In a tight, squeezed voice that indicated how unbearably tight you were feeling deep inside you, you whispered fervently, “Mm, fuck, I think I’m c-close – oh, Rem, I’m – I’m already s-so t-tight – nngh…!”

“I k-know you are,” Remus breathed out, rather haggardly.  “Uhn, I can f-feel you, Lovely, getting so tight - ” He thrust into you, making you moan.  “ – and wet - ” He thrust into you again.  "Fuck, yes, all wet, get wet for me, my darling. Cum on my cock, yes, good girl, good girl, good - fucking - girl - "

Shivering all over, you whimpered like a pup in heat as you felt Remus bottoming out in you.  Ah, he’s g-getting so good at taking me.  It’s like he says – he knows how to touch me so well, and - oh, mm - I want to be equally as g-good at - ah - taking him.  That was the thought that made you focus on staying on your tiptoes for him, even though your legs were burning and trembling and you felt like you might lose control at any second with Remus’s cock pushing into your pussy so deep and so good. 

“Remus, ahhh,” you whined.

Feeling your ass trembling against him, and hearing your pussy squelch wetly as Remus fucked his cock deep into your heat, Remus couldn't help but whisper adoringly to you, “Such a good girl for me, aren’t you? Taking me so well, my darling.”

As Remus spoke, you felt his hands grip your waist and squeeze you.  At the same time, he pushed down, making you arch your back for him even more.  You felt your breath leave you as your tummy tightened and strained to be in the right position for him, and it was all you could do to whimper out a devastating little cry in response. “Y-Yeah,” you said bravely, legs shaking.

“Mhm,” Remus returned.  "Yes, sweetheart, you are." However, his sweet affirmations to you drew attention away from the fact that Remus was reaching his breaking point as well. He was panting heavily now, after minutes of rutting into your perfect little cunt, which you were doing your best to present to him this entire time.  Whispering fervently, “Mmm, yes, Lovely, you’re so good for me - ” Remus pushed into you again, thrusting heavily, without holding back.

“A-Ah!” you gasped out, as you felt an intense, almost unbearable, heat blossom in between your legs.

Remus groaned heavily.  He leaned forward a little, and then, in-between rough pants, he whispered in your ear, so breathily and lightly that his breath catching was louder than the actual words he spoke, “M-My question."

"O-Oh, yes, your - ah!" you moaned, unable to think straight anymore. So close, you whispered to yourself feverishly in your mind, I'm so fucking close to cumming again. Mmm, c'mon, Remus, please...!

Meanwhile, Remus was mumbling away, in-between thrusts, "I can’t – I can’t - uhn - promise you anything, and I’m t-terrified of getting your hopes up, but… w-would you consider…?  Mm, fuck - Might y-you…?”

“What?” you wanted to say, but you couldn’t.  You couldn’t say anything.  You were too busy taking his cock, and getting quite desperate, heated, and overwhelmed as you were starting to cum for him a second time. 

Remus's little mumble of “… Mrs. Wicked…?” melded with the buzzing starting to take over your mind. Yes, your mind was spinning terribly fast now. You fell forward onto the desk, no longer able to keep on your tiptoes when your thighs were caving in entirely.  Remus followed you, pinning you down against the desk once and for all.

“N-Nngh!” You gasped and then gritted your teeth as Remus hit up against you, deep inside your pussy, giving you heavy, heavy thrusts of – One. - “Uhn!” you cried out loudly. – Two. “F-Fuck,” Remus cursed harshly. – Three.  Slam!  Overwhelmed by how much Remus's cock was spreading your pussy apart when you were squeezing all over him, your hands shot out before you, grabbing blindly around you. Clink. You thought you might have accidentally toppled something over, but it didn’t matter, because you felt Remus pressing into you, his cock crashing into your sweet spot yet again –

"Uh!" A labored moan left you, raspy and needy and achy, and yet still falling short of conveying how desperate you were feeling, as a heavy wave of pleasure slammed into your body. Eyes shut, mouth open, shivering all over the desk, hands outstretched, tummy rippling, eyes shaking, and pussy clenching - you were barely cognizant of anything. Yet, your body naturally knew what to do – you pushed your hips back, keeping yourself flush to Remus, with his cock entirely sheathed in you, his balls pressing up deliciously against your pussyhole, and your tummy buckled as your hips moved up and down furiously, milking him, demanding more from him, begging for his -

 “Fuck!” Remus repeated, spitting out the word even more harshly this time.  Then - smack! You gasped as you felt his palms smack heavily into your ass. A strange sensation of relief and pleasure floated through you at this little touch, but before you could ponder it - Remus was gone, hurriedly stepping away from you. Cold air washed over you for the briefest of moments, before you felt Remus cum all over you, coating your lower back, your ass, even your lower thighs with him.

“Uhn…” you breathed out harshly, with your voice going all raspy.  You blinked a few times, as your vision had gone blurry.  You hardly felt like yourself right now, with your mind buzzing and spinning, and that sweet, sweet release still flooding through your body. You bowed your head down against the desk and wiggled your hips slightly, wanting to feel Remus's cum dripping down your ass and the back of your thighs. Mmm, you thought, quite happy to be where you were. You absolutely loved being covered with him.

You heard Remus breathing heavily behind you for a long moment.  Watching you and seeing his cum drip slowly down your shapely body, while the faintest outline of his handprints on your ass appearing, Remus swallowed thickly. He reached up and pushed his hair and his sweat out of his eyes. Seeing you covered in him, for a moment, Remus wanted you back on that desk for him, with your beautiful thighs spread open for yet another round. And there had been that moment, where Remus had started to cum, and you'd pushed yourself back on his cock, and it was the most blissful and heavenly feeling that Remus had ever felt during sex, and for a moment, he imagined - But no, he told himself, stopping his imagination. Lovely's probably tired, and you need to take care of her. Look at that mess you made on her. Come on, wake up now.

As you lay atop the table, savoring the moment and catching your breath, you felt a soft cloth pass over your lower back and on the back of your legs. You knew that it was Remus, tenderly wiping you with a towel.  He reached between your thighs, too, passing the towel gently over your pussy. You were quite sensitive down there right now, so you shifted slightly, rubbing your thighs together for a moment, as the towel passed between your legs. You swore you heard Remus cough for a second, as though his breath had caught in his throat, and he needed to clear it. You started to turn over, to ask Remus if he was all right and to tell him that you could finish cleaning yourself up - when Remus suddenly fell forward, laying on top of you.

“Remus?” you said softly, puzzled.

In reply, Remus tossed the towel aside.  His hands found yours, and he laced his fingers with yours, pressing your hands firmly down on top of the table.

“Remus?” you repeated.  You tried to turn your head to look at him, but you couldn’t quite see his face.

“What was that, Lovely?” Remus said, nearly in a growl. He cleared his throat yet again, as if he hadn't meant to sound quite so intense.

“Hm?” Your brow furrowed, trying to figure out whether Remus was serious or not, and what on earth Remus might be referring to.

In a softer, but somewhat forced tone, Remus listed off, “Backing up on me like that, and before - wrapping your legs around me like that, looking up at me with such an expression – is this your new idea of tormenting me?”

“What?” You were taken aback, as you hadn’t really done those things on purpose or with any intention.  You fumbled over your words a bit as you said honestly, “No, I only – I only wanted to give you the option, as it were - ”

“Oh, the option,” Remus repeated wryly.

“Yes,” you said agreeably, “and to let you know that it was okay with me.  And regardless, I think I just wanted you closer.  I don’t know, I wasn’t really thinking about it.  I was lost in the moment, you know?  Lost with how good you were making me feel.”

“So, it wasn’t intentional?" Remus confirmed.  "You weren’t trying to drive me mad with want for you?”

“Of course not,” you said again, softly this time.  “I didn’t mean to push you, Remus, truly.  I’m sorry if I did.”

You heard Remus sigh, and the next moment, he let your hands go.  You immediately turned around, though you had to remain lying on the desk, since Remus was hovering above you.  Remus quickly looked away from you, looking down at your shoulder instead.

You reassured him in a soft voice, “It’s okay if you don’t want to, ever.  It really is.  And I'll be more careful, I promise. I don't want to cause you stress or make you anxious, I only want to give you pleasure, I hope you know that. Wrapping my legs around you – it simply felt natural, so I did it without thinking. I didn’t mean anything by it, I swear.  And, well, I’m not sure what expression you’re taking about, but if it bothers you - ”

“The one that makes me go weak at the knees,” Remus mumbled, still not looking at you. “The one that’s a lie, that makes it seem like you can’t bear to be apart from me."

You frowned.  Still no idea what he’s talking about, but that second part is not a lie. 

Remus caught your gaze, and he saw how fiercely you were looking at him now, and he knew you were protesting to the bit he'd just spoken aloud. Starting to feel a bit embarrassed of himself, he leaned forward, hiding his face against your neck.  “You are Ms. Foolish, after all," he chided you. "Teasing me like that, all naughty and like, without realizing how very dangerous it might be to do so, without realizing that even absent your foolish little tricks, I’m quite close to taking you like that anyways, hm?”

“Remus - ” you began.

But Remus kept going, mumbling out his grievances, “And playing innocent by saying things like, ‘you don’t have to if you don’t want to.’  As if there is a world where I wouldn’t want to.  You throw that out there so casually, when I’m losing my mind over here trying to resist you, trying to resist this – this desperate need I have to – to – to make you mine.”

You paused. Oh… He did tell me before that he wouldn’t mind cumming in me if he wasn’t afraid that his werewolf condition might somehow be genetic, but I didn’t realize he wanted it quite so much. 

“You think you’re being sweet, I wager, but really you’re unknowingly courting the devil, Ms. Foolish,” Remus finished in a low whisper, and he bit roughly at your neck, making you squirm.  “Giving me such a foolish, adorable little expression when I’m inside of you, like you want me to - ” His voice dropped to such a low volume that you missed him whispering the words – “breed you - ” and you only heard him whispering against your neck, “Godric, you make me want to do anything but the sensible thing.”

Hearing Remus use the strange, playful nickname he’d given you, you smiled a little.  Bringing your arms up, you hugged Remus, as you replied, “Well, I have to, to keep my Mr. Wicked occupied.  Being sensible is nice and all, but I can’t rely on sensibility alone to keep my Mr. Wicked around.”

Remus finally looked up at you.  Your smile brightened, when you saw his face, for his eyes were light again, if not always a tad melancholy, as they always were.  You lovingly put your hand on his cheek and ran it along his jaw, soothing him.  Remus relaxed, and he nuzzled your palm with his nose.  But then, your hand dropped to his shirt, and you clutched at it again as you reminded him, “Besides, you’re the one who got your way tonight, Mr. Wicked.  You say all these pretty things to me, and you admonish me for this and that.  Meanwhile, I can’t even get you to take your shirt off for me.”

At this, Remus finally chuckled.  “It’s better that way, anyways.  The focus is on you, Lovely.”

“Not for me,” you told him.

“Well, that can’t be blamed on me,” he replied.  “I was – what was the phrase you used?  - oh, yes, lost in the moment.”

"Hey, don't use that against me," you said, hitting him lightly in the shoulder. "I mean it. You - You know what you do to me."

"What do I do to you?" Remus asked you, looking quite skeptical.

"Well, you - you get me all, um, riled up and I hardly know what to think or do when you - when you're inside of me like that and, well - " You blushed when you heard how foolish you sounded. Your eyes flickered down, and then you saw Remus's expression. He was smirking slightly at how you were genuinely answering the question and also smiling at how endearing you were when you were all shy like this.

"Don't tease me like that!" you groaned, clapping your hands over your face, "I don't need your help in being Ms. Foolish, you know."

Remus laughed as he got up from the desk.  You started to follow him, but Remus put his arms around you and lifted you from the desk before you could get your feet to the floor.  He carried you over to the bed, where he set you down most gently.  He then picked up your clothes from the floor and came back to you, where he helped you pull your clothes back on.   

“There,” he said, as he pulled your sweater over you and then fixed your hair for you. 

“See? You're spoiling me again," you pointed out.

“Only as you should be,” Remus replied immediately, and he gave you a quick kiss on the nose. 

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

A little while later, you were still in bed and Remus was in the shower, when you heard a soft ‘hoot’ from a couple of rooms down.  You got up and went to the empty parlor, where the owl from the bookstore was now tapping his beak lightly against the window.

“All ready to go, huh?” You reached out to pet the owl on his head.

The owl nipped at your hand affectionately and then turned his head once again to the window.

“Safe travels,” you murmured.  You unlatched the window and pushed it wide open.  The huge bird soared out.  You watched him take off into the grey skies, until you could no longer see him.

As you walked back into your and Remus’s room, you spotted an inked-up and crinkled piece of parchment on the floor.  You knelt down to see what it was.  When you picked it up gingerly from the floor, you gasped.

Remus poked his head around the bathroom door, for he had just finished showering.  “Lovely?  Is everything all right?”

You showed him the parchment.  “Oh no, your letter to your parents!  I must have knocked the ink bottle over it.”

Remus shrugged. “I’ll simply write it again.  Not to worry.”

“Sorry,” you said earnestly.

Remus reassured you, “Really, don’t worry.”  But then he paused, and his eyes glinted with mischief as he added, “My parents will never know how you’ve turned their one and only son into a ravenous heathen.”

“Remus!” you chided him, whirling around at his remark.    

Remus chuckled at your indignant expression.  “I’m only joking.  Well, a little.”  He quickly pulled on fresh clothes and then came over to you.  He put his arm around you as he murmured, “I am quite wanting for you, Lovely, as I think this evening, and many others besides, proved.”  With his other hand, he reached down and unbuttoned the top two buttons of your pajama shirt.  When they opened, Remus could see the tops of your breasts, pink from how much he had kissed, sucked, and fondled them.  You blushed and hurriedly buttoned yourself back up.

Remus laughed, and, after giving you an affectionate squeeze, he let you go.  He went back to the bathroom, to finish drying his hair with a towel.  As he did, he called from the bathroom, “Speaking of my parents, what would you say to seeing them again?”

“Oh yes,” you said at once.  “I’ve been meaning to apologize them ever since their last visit.”

“No, not to apologize,” Remus replied.  “It’s just that they’ve invited us over.  They rather liked you, you know.”

You said skeptically,  “What?  Even after I yelled at them?”

Remus came back out now, shutting the bathroom door behind him.  “Yes, I think you’ll find that the Lupin family has a soft spot for spirited things.”

At this, you couldn’t help but laugh a little, for you knew that Remus was making a play on words – calling you 'spirited,' but also referencing the fact that his father had once made a career out of studying spirits.

“Besides,” Remus continued, “there’s a place I want to show you.”

“Oh?  Where’s that?”

“I’ll leave you to ponder on that.” Remus headed for the door, while telling you, “Dress warmly, and pack a suitcase for an overnight stay.”

“Wait!” you called to him.  “How warmly?”

“Give it your best guess,” Remus replied, walking out of the room. 

“Remus!” you called again. 

Remus stuck his head back into the room.  “Does it matter?  If it’s colder than you think, you’ll just sneak away with one of my jumpers, per usual?  Isn’t that what you usually do? Hmm?”

Your mouth fell open.  “I – Not that often! It’s only that I swear they’re thicker and warmer than mine…”

Winter passed into an early spring, which shivered all silvery and slinky in its chilly winds.  You were finishing your Hogsmeade patrol for the evening. You stepped into the Hog's Head and reported to Aberforth that you had sighted Malfoy with a seemingly foreign acquaintance (dressed in a crimson cloak made from a thick, velvety material that one rarely saw around here) at the Three Broomsticks that evening. As you left the Hog’s Head, you noted the clock on the wall, just above the bar.  Eight fifty. All right, time to head home.

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

Earlier that evening, Remus promised to come find you at Hogsmeade at the end of your shift again, but you insisted that he stay at Grimmauld Place tonight, where he was safe and warm.

“Truly, Remus, it’s all right,” you told him. “The other night, it made sense, because you were at Hogwarts regardless, but there’s no need to go out there just to see silly old me.”

“But of course there is,” Remus pushed back.  “I would get to see ‘silly old you’ a bit earlier and take you home.”  He pulled you into his lap. 

You shifted around a little and you gently pushed back the curl resting on his forehead as you assured him, “No, no, stay here.  It’s freezing outside, and you’ve already had a long day scouting out the acromantula grounds.  Stay here, and I’ll come home as quickly as I can.”

Remus began to protest once more, but you cut him off with a quick kiss.  Remus smiled funnily at you, knowing the kiss was an ambush tactic.  “Look,” you said, “what I’d really appreciate is if you could wait right here for me until I come back, and you keep the bed all warm for me, and maybe scrounge up some chocolate and pears, hm?”

Remus searched your eyes, as if he was looking into your mind to find the weakest chink that he could push against, to persuade you to let him come to you tonight.  Knowing that if you gave him time, his kind gaze alone would overcome you, you hurriedly promised, “I’ll be home by nine.” 

Remus let out a soft sigh, and he finally looked away.

“Okay,” you said, smiling at how cute he looked. “So, it’s a date.”

“Fine,” Remus replied, slightly grumpily. “It’s a date.” He paused, and then he added, “But while I have you here - ”

“Ah!” You let out a delighted shriek as Remus pinned you down onto the bed and kissed you all over.

“We’ll start you off quite warm, hm?” Remus murmured, fervently kissing your cheeks. “To fortify you against the cold tonight.”

You laughed and clutched onto the front of his shirt tightly, feeling so happy to be with him.

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

Now, you hurried away from the Hog’s Head, eager to make it back to Grimmauld Place by nine.  Apparation was not allowed in or near any of the buildings for safety reasons, and as the Hog’s Head was one of the very last shops in Hogsmeade, you headed towards the outskirts of the forest to Apparate safely.  The forest was vast, stretching all the way down to a clear, cold lake and, in the other direction, becoming the Forbidden Forest near Hogwarts. 

As you neared the long grasses surrounding the end of the pathway of Hogsmeade, the lights became dim, and the sound of the crisp snow crunching under your feet suddenly seemed loud. It’s strange how the sounds and lights of the village fade away so quickly, you mused.  You began to turn to Apparate back to Grimmauld Place when – you hesitated.  Was that my imagination or did I just see something pass me by?  You instantly drew your wand, fearing that the shadow that had darted by you was a Death Eater.  Heart thundering, you waited a moment. 

Fortunately, nothing happened. You let out a slow breath.  In the chilly night air, your breath curled up into a plume of fog.  Fog?  You noticed that there was an unusual amount of fog swirling around you.  It’s likely because I’m near the lake and forest, and it’s a frosty evening, you reasoned.  But just then, you swore you saw a silvery shadow dart through the fog. 

Staying completely still, not even daring to breathe, you waited.  And that was when you heard it – that eerie, soft, thumping sound – or was it an oscillating sound? It was a difficult sound to describe, as though a tree were striking a soft cloud repeatedly on an exact, perfect rhythm. 

Your breath caught as you remembered: Frequent travelers of the Himalayan Mountains have, from time to time, reported a strange sound – much like the sounds of the ocean waves – from the mountains, despite the fact that ocean sounds are usually not heard in the mountains.  All of the reports detail the same facts – that these sounds were heard on a foggy night, that the ocean sounds were eerily too-perfect in their rhythm, and that the sounds evoked a strong sense of nostalgia to the listener.  Some Magizoologists hypothesize that this is the sound of the Moon Rabbit arriving at or leaving Earth, or else of the Moon Rabbit jumping through the Mountains.

No, you scoffed at yourself, this is ridiculous.  You’re being ridiculous again.  But then, you couldn’t help except recall as well: From time to time, it is said that the Moon Rabbit must return to Earth to collect the needed herbs.  While on Earth, the Moon Rabbit masquerades as a simple earthly rabbit, save for the silver sheen on its fur, which resembles the moonlight. 

Flash! You gasped, as you caught a silvery shadow darting through the grass, some twenty feet in front of you.  You wondered if it was just the moonlight, playing tricks on you by reflecting off the fog and the frozen, long grass swaying dimly before you.  But before you knew it, you were off, chasing after the silvery shadow, which you swore was still darting before you, this way and that, extremely quickly through the long grass.

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

Some time later, you found yourself trudging up the street back to Grimmauld Place.  You were, sadly, entire Rabbit-less.  Not only that, but while you weren’t entirely sure of the time (you guessed perhaps ten or eleven o’clock), you were quite aware of the fact that you had not returned at nine as promised, for your date with Remus.  You felt incredibly guilty about how late you were, and that you hadn’t even sent a Patronus message.  But even once you’d admitted your defeat while lost in the dark, deep depths of the forest, you had held back from sending a message because… well, you felt guilty and humiliated.  You had promised Remus that you were over all your “adventures,” but tonight, you’d gone chasing after nothing but a moonbeam and your own, overactive imagination without a second thought.  You let out a long sigh.  You’d been walking up and down Grimmauld Street (though keeping under the trees to keep out of any passerbys’ sights) for a while now, absolutely dreading going in.  The fog started to descend and a slow, steady rain began to fall upon the earth.  You stared forlornly up at Grimmauld Place, at the lighted window where you knew Remus was waiting for you.  I hope he’s fallen asleep by now, you thought miserably.  I hate to think of him waiting up for me, when I’ve been so damn foolish.

“Did you have a good adventure?”

You jumped in shock.  “Oh my God – Oh, Remus!” For there he was, standing there behind you.

Remus held up a closed umbrella.  “Fancy an umbrella?  It’s raining quite a bit quite here, in case you haven’t noticed.”  He looked you up and down, however, and realized that you were entirely drenched.  You had been standing under the trees, which initially offered you protection, but as the night wind picked up, every breeze resulted in the branches and crowns of leaves dumping all the collected water on you repeatedly. 

“Er, seems you have noticed,” Remus added, a bit lamely.

“Where in the world did you come from?” you wondered.

“Well, I was in Grimmauld Place tonight, as we discussed, waiting for my date to show up - ”

“Ah,” you said guiltily.

Remus continued, “ - when I spotted a sulking little figure outside.  I wasn’t sure if it was you for a while, though.  I thought you might be a Death Eater scout or something, because you were hiding under the tree.  But then you poked your head out from behind the tree about a billion times, and I realized it was you.”

“No, but how did you get out here?” You gestured towards Grimmauld Place.  “I didn’t see you come out the front door, and I’ve been staring at it for a while now.”

“Hm.  So you have been out here for a long time, then.”

Ah… I didn’t mean to let that slip.  You blushed.

Remus replied politely, “Anyhow, to answer your question – there’s a back way out of Grimmauld Place.  It’s not the safest route, as it requires scaling a clearly outdated pipe, but it’s a possibility.  It’s how Sirius escapes every time he wants to go out.”

“Oh…”

“I simply feign ignorance because, well, truth be told, as much as Sirius foolishly risks death every time he sneaks out, I do genuinely believe it would kill him if he didn’t leave to stretch his paws every once in a while.”  Without pausing, Remus said, “It really is pouring out here.”  He unfurled the umbrella and opened it – only to realize that, as were most things he owned, a dilapidated old umbrella, with no less than three holes in it.  Remus sighed at the state of his umbrella.  Still, the center had remained intact, so he reached out and pulled you in close to him, so that you wouldn’t be hit by the rain anymore.

“Lovely.” Remus hugged you against him.

You ducked your head down and focused on slowly twisting the ends of your jacket to wring out cold rain water.  But really, you were just doing everything you could to avoid looking at Remus.

Remus caught both your hands in his. “Stop. You’ll destroy your sleeves, doing that.  Even patches won’t save that.”

“No patches?” you blurted out nervously. Oh no, oh no, oh no.

Remus shook his head at you.

Your heart dropped.  “I’m sorry, Remus!” you cried out, squeezing his hand tightly in both of your hands.  You blinked up at him, and ignoring the rain streaming down your face, you tried to explain, “There was this incredible fog, and then I heard this – this thrumming.  Then, I saw this flash of silver in the grass - ” you flushed, as hearing the words out loud made you even more embarrassed, but you carried on “ – and I ended up taking a little detour.  I’m so sorry. And then I came back to Grimmauld Place, and I realized I was probably a little late for our date, and I felt so, so horrible for making you wait like that, after I told you to stay at Grimmauld Place for me tonight.  I’m terribly sorry.”

Remus merely asked, “And where did this little detour take you?”

“Not far,” you said honestly. “Just a little ways out into the forest. It’s only that when I came back, I realized that it was probably already a bit past nine, and I felt so guilty.”

 “A little past nine?” Remus looked a bit confused. “Lovely, do you have any idea what time it is now?”

“Um, eleven?” In an apologetic voice, you added, “Past our date time, anyways, which is really the only thing that’s important.”

“No, it’s two in the morning.”

Your eyes widened. “No.”

“Yes, I’m afraid so.  And someone set our date tonight for nine o’clock.” Remus tilted his head at you. “Who might that be, hm?”

You groaned. “Remus, I am so, so sorry.”

“Hm…” Remus didn’t speak for a long moment.  Then, all he did was repeat his initial question, “Well, was it a good adventure?”

Oh no, he’s angry at me – but of course, he has every right to be.  “I’m sorry, Remus,” you said feelingly, though you were trying to control your emotions from spilling over.  “I promised you a date tonight and, before that, I made such a big speech about ‘no more adventures’ and then, well, I went on one – a small one – but - ”

“An adventure nonetheless,” Remus finished for you.

You hung your head.  “Yes.  I’m sorry.”

Strangely, Remus kept pressing, “So, how was it?”

You frowned, not understanding why Remus kept asking you about how your adventure went, when what was most important was the fact that you had missed your date with him.  As Remus was taller than you, you found it difficult to see his face when you were pressed so closely to him.  You stepped back to see his expression, as you promised him fervently, “I’ll make it up to you, I swear.  I’ll go find you at the end of all of your missions, no matter how dangerous, to go home with you or – or I’ll convince Moody to let me go with you on all of your missions.  I mean, I already try to do that, but he never lets me.  This time, I won’t take ‘no’ for an answer.  I’ll duel with him, if I have to.  I might not stand a chance against him in an honorable match, but I can wait until he’s got his eyeball and leg off to ambush him - ”

“Lovely, come back here.” Remus reached out and pulled you back in under the umbrella at once, murmuring softly, “Stay close to me.  There’s too many holes in this umbrella, I’m afraid.”

“Remus, didn’t you hear me?” you said desperately. “I’m so sorry.  How should I make it up to you?  Please, tell me.  I’ll do anything.”

“Hm… Well, you could tell me what exactly you were supposed to be chasing after,” Remus said.  “It wasn’t the Nine-Tailed Fox again, was it?”

“Oh… no,” you replied.  Then, you fell silent.  I’d feel silly telling him about the Moon Rabbit.  And it’s besides the point.  The point is that I didn’t keep my promise.

“Remus - ” you began.

Remus suddenly listed off, “Chimera? Sphynx? Unicorn?”

Caught off-guard, you ended up admitting, “Uh, no, it was – Well, I thought I saw a gleaming silver rabbit and…”

“And?”

“I thought it might have been a Moon Rabbit.”

Remus finally gazed down at you. “Moon Rabbit, huh?”

You paused, for you were taken aback by the expression on his face.  Instead of looking angry or upset, as you expected him to be, he looked… well, a bit amused. “Remus?” you said in awe.

Remus finally let the smile he was holding back appear on his face as he looked down at you.  He reached down and tenderly wiped the rain from your face.  “Sweetheart, I’m not angry at you.”

“What?” you said breathlessly. 

Remus chuckled. “I’m only teasing you.  I’m giving you a little grief because I was so worried about you.  But now that I know you’re fine – well, I’m glad that you had your little adventure tonight.”

Your brow furrowed and you stared at Remus skeptically.  “No, you’re angry, I know it, and you have every right to be.”

“I’m truly not.”

“Don’t say that for my sake, please. If you’re angry, you should tell me, and I’ll listen to you and do everything I can to make it up to you.”

“I’m really not angry,” Remus assured you.

Your brow furrowed even more, and your mouth took on a strange shape – Remus bit his lower lip to hold back any chuckle. 

“But why not?” you asked, rather loudly. “I mean, I’m so grateful that you’re being so understanding, but after all I said about being more responsible and all, shouldn’t you be angry with me?”

“No,” Remus said, quite simply.

The wrinkle in your forehead was now a deep valley, and your lower lip was all but jutting out.

Remus coughed politely, and he reached up and hid his mouth behind his hand to disguise the fact that he was close to outright laughing at you.

“Remus,” you said, suddenly stern.

“Yes, my love?”

“You’re really not mad at me for tonight?”

Remus shook his head lightly.

“Oh…” You let out a long, harsh breath of relief.  “Oh, thank Godric.”

“Although,” Remus said, with a glint in his eye, “you do realize that you stood me up for our date tonight, hm?”

You buried the front of your face against his chest and you said earnestly, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

Remus reached down and pushed your head up, making you look at him.  Seeing your messy hair, your rain-drenched face, your sad eyes, and then that grumpy little mouth of yours, nearly pouting at him, Remus nearly laughed.  But he kept his calm and managed to carry on teasing you, “And what right do you have to pout at me, huh?  It should be the other way around, I think.”

“I’m not pouting at you,” you said, confused.

“Yes, you are,” Remus said. “And if you pout at me one more time, I’m going to… Well, I’m going to…”

“To what?” you said nervously.

Remus tried to sound decisive, but a faint blush appeared on his cheeks anyways as he murmured halfheartedly, “Bend you over.”

“Oh my.” Your hand flew to your mouth in surprise, but the next minute, you burst out laughing.

“Yeah, I’m no good at that kind-of talk, huh?” Remus sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck.

You laughed softly. “Well, I don’t know about that.”

“Hm?”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and leaned into him. “I think I might want to kiss you now.”

“Is – Is that so?”

“Mhm.  So, I wouldn’t say it’s all bad,” you said, and then, you got up on tiptoe to kiss him.

Remus bent his head down, and his arm went around your waist and he tugged upwards lightly to help support you.  You kissed him ever so lovingly, and all of your gratitude for his understanding poured out into this sweet, sweet kiss.  However, in kissing you back, Remus let the umbrella tilt a little too far, and suddenly, a small waterfall streamed through one of the holes in the umbrella right onto your faces.

“Sorry!” Remus cried out, and he jerked the umbrella back.

You laughed, as you mopped your face dry. 

Remus sighed a bit ruefully, as he wished that kiss hadn’t broken off.  He murmured, “Horrid weather tonight.”

“Mm, yes, and we’ve got to do something about this umbrella of yours,” you told him.

“Yes,” Remus agreed.

However, as you nestled into his side, quite close, and you began to lead him home, the two of you found that yourselves more content than one might think, squeezed together under a holey umbrella in the cold, early spring rain.

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

Once the two of you had got ready for bed, you brought over mugs of warm tea and the encyclopedia.  Seeing you struggling to balance both mugs while the heavy book was tucked under your arm, Remus took the book from you.   “Some light reading, hm?” Noticing the small piece of parchment marking a page, he opened the book and then read aloud, “Moon Rabbit.”

“I wanted to explain myself a bit more, in case it helps,” you said.  “See, the book says the Moon Rabbit’s appearance is usually indicated by fog and the sound of a deep, rhythmic thrumming, and that’s what I thought happened tonight.” You curled up beside Remus and drew the covers over you both.  Then, pointing to the entry in the book, you said, “See? Right there.  That’s what it says.”

Remus gazed down at you, seeing so clearly that you were trying to make sure that he knew you hadn’t just forgotten about your date tonight for no reason.  Closing the book gently, he replied, “Well, this is all fascinating, but I’m truly not angry at you.  I was a bit worried, since you were out on patrol, and I wish you’d sent me a message, so that’s why I gave you a bit of grief tonight.  But I’m not angry at all now that I know you’re okay, and I’m certainly not angry that you had your bit of adventure.”

“Thank you,” you said softly, “for being so understanding.  But I know I was irresponsible tonight.”

“You weren’t ‘irresponsible,’” Remus said lightly.  “I wish you’d stop using that word.”

Your brow furrowed.  You took the book away and set it on the bedside table.  Getting up to your knees, you held Remus’ face in your hands and you looked closely at his expression.  Remus raised his eyebrow at you, a bit amused by how seriously you were taking this, but he remained still and let you gaze at his face.

“Remus, what are you doing?” you asked. “Are you teasing me?  Or are you trying to hide that you’re upset with me?”

Remus playfully touched his finger against the tip of your nose.  “No, silly. None of that.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

“Oh… okay.”  Finally, you kissed him softly, but as you did, you gave a little sigh and murmured, “I don’t understand you at all, Remus.”

Remus chuckled. “Lovely, I fell in love with you.  All of you.  You’ve always been drawn to the mythical world.  You can’t help it.  It’s who you are.”

“But it’s foolish,” you said knowingly. “All I do is end up ignoring the real world, and that means that I’m not taking responsibility for myself.  That’s what happened with the Nine-Tailed Fox, after all.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” Remus countered. “After all, when we were together, you grounded yourself for me all the time.  You became so caring.  You healed me after every full moon, and you joined the Order and you learned to hold back your curiosity because you sensed that I wasn’t ready to be honest with you.  Even when things ended that first time around, it wasn’t your fault – it was mine.  And only then, did you go find your Nine-Tailed Fox.  And you know what?  The Nine-Tailed Fox was real, after all, and all those people that doubted you were wrong about you, were wrong about the Fox, and wrong about the mythical world in general.  Then, you came with your Fox inside your soul, and you freed me from being a werewolf. Where in all that were you ever irresponsible?”

“Besides,” Remus continued, “I rather think that myths are real for you.  You think you chase after them, Lovely, but I’m certain that they chase after you.  I’ve told you before, I think you’re a bit mythical yourself, so if anything mythical comes by, it must be drawn to you, and you’re predisposed to recognize it more than others.”

You thought this over, but all you could think was, But I’m not a myth, not even a little bit.  You felt dumb for even articulating such an obvious fact to yourself.  Finally, you said honestly to Remus, “I don’t understand.”

“No? Well, I do.” 

You stared at Remus in complete disbelief.  How is it that he always understands me so completely?  How is it that with all of my greatest fears, he takes them all so lovingly, and makes me see myself as a better person?  Even when we were younger, and all those people at Hogwarts were bullying me, Remus was the first person I felt I could truly open up to.  He was the only one where I felt I could admit that, despite the front I tried to put up, when I was bullied, I felt weak and vulnerable and there was a tiny part of me that thought I might die that way.  It was such a scary thing for me to admit, but when I finally told him, he had known that the whole time, and instead of making it a big deal, he said that of course I felt that way, that it was because I was just human – not weak, and then he held my sadness as though it was his own. You reached up and touched his face gently.  I don’t understand how he can be so thoughtful and so kind.  He just… He makes me want to be a better person.  I want to be the person he’s saying I am.  And I can be, I know it, because he’s with me.  He’s here with me, by my side. 

“The way you think, you make me feel so safe,” you whispered. “How in the world do you do that?” 

Remus said, quite simply, “I told you, Lovely, my heart was made to house your soul.  I’ve always known that.”  But then, he started when he realized that tears were gathering in your eyes. “Wha - ? Lovely, are you crying?”

You laughed softly, as you nodded. “I can’t help it.  You say the most wonderful things, and I get so happy that I have to cry.”  You started to reach up to wipe your tears away, but Remus beat you to it.  He wiped your cheeks so fervently that it made you laugh.

“I can’t take it when you cry,” Remus said, a bit sheepishly. “I just – it makes me all itchy - ”

You laughed even harder, and then, catching his hands in your own, you kissed his palms all over.  “I think I’m in love with you, Remus John Lupin.”

“Ah, is that so?” Remus wondered, watching the way you kissed his palms until you were pink in the face.

“Yes, but what I meant by that is, well, I mean, I feel like I’m somewhere just with you.  Not just that I’m fond of you, which I am, of course, but as if we’re floating in some great ocean of stars, and it’s just the two of us, and it would be terrifying to be afloat in some wide-open space with no sense of beginning or end, but then you touch my hand, and I know I’m safe, so the terrifying becomes the wonderful, and suddenly, we’re floating in this ocean of stars, and it’s the most beautiful experience a human could ever, ever have, and I’m getting to experience it, because I’m with you.”  You reached up and slipped your fingers in-between his and you held his hands tightly against your chest and you leaned in until your lips were hovering just about Remus’ as you told him, “I mean that sort-of love.”

“That’s quite something,” Remus said, a bit sheepishly.

You smiled at him and in a soft, unassuming voice, you said, “Yes, that’s what I mean. I just needed you to know that that’s what I mean when I say I love you.” Your smile perked up even more as you said again, quietly, “I love you, Remus.”

Remus felt his heart blossom with love for you.  Ever since the two of you had met at Hogwarts, Remus had known about you that your capacity to imagine and believe in the mythical world was simply the flip side of your great capacity to love.  The love that you carried in your soul was all the more significant because you knew all the mythical possibilities beyond love, all the realities that were not constrained by human fate, and yet you still chose to value the human world.  You still chose to be human, and if anyone could empathize with the bravery of that choice, it was Remus, who had given so much of himself to remain human when he had been a werewolf for those long, painful years.  He knew, too, the pressures of having that lonely struggle, of knowing the depths of another world far more deeply than others could imagine.  For you, people saw you as irresponsible and with your head in the clouds, and for Remus, while non-werewolves saw him as weak, dangerous, and disgusting, werewolves also saw him as fighting a useless battle against his own nature and a traitor for siding with wizards. 

But the thing was, you and Remus both valued your own human selves – the freedom and dignity you felt a human soul should always have – and strove to find yourselves in the difficult, mythical worlds you found yourselves in.  Remus had begun to understand that when you’d come to him and made your point about how you had always loved him, and no less when he was a werewolf.  You’d told him that you’d found his home in him all those years ago at Hogwarts, when you were two young students huddled away in that secret attic at Hogwarts, and Remus had very much been struggling with his werewolf self back then, being consumed by it month after month.  However, you had loved him then, you swore you had, and a difficult, painful wound lodged deep in Remus’ soul had slowly begun to heal when you told him that.  Something in him had begun to open up, to finally believe that he might be worthy of happiness, even if he had been a werewolf for so much of his life, because you, despite having your own mythical world that you could easily slip away into, chose to stay with Remus.  And Remus, out of love for you, chose to be your home to come back to, even if he knew that you had to be a little wandering spirit sometimes and have your own little adventures in some far-off world, and that some time might pass before you remembered your human self and your love, who was waiting for you to come home.  Remus was more than happy to be that for you, because he loved your spirit so much – that bold, spunky, and curious soul housed in your small, fragile human form.  And when you finished with your adventure and came back to him, fitting perfectly in his arms and snuggling up warmly against his chest, Remus felt that he was holding something unimaginably precious. 

Remus whispered to you, “Come here.”  He pulled you to him, then, and his warm hands grasped warmly at your soft hips so that he could guide you down to bed, until you were lying under him.

You fell back against the mattress, and you wrapped your arms around Remus’ shoulders as he leaned down to kiss you. “My love…” he whispered. “My heart.”  You blushed at his romantic words, and you stored them away deep in your heart. 

Basking in this warm, cozy atmosphere, you slipped your arms around Remus, and you hugged him tightly.  For some time, the two of you stayed together like that, pressed close in a warm embrace.  Remus nuzzled his nose with yours, and you pressed soft kisses all across his face. 

Slowly, you closed your eyes.  You felt entirely content, and you reckoned you could fall asleep just like this, and never want anything of life ever again.

Remus, thinking you were already asleep, slid gently onto your side, easing off of you.  You naturally shifted onto your side, to make room for him.  But not liking that he had moved away from you, you reached back and slid your hand onto the back of his neck and you brought him in for another kiss. 

Remus leaned forward and his hand naturally fell onto your hip.  “You weren’t asleep?” he murmured softly, as he kissed you back.

“No,” you replied.  “In fact, I think I’m feeling a bit… restless.”  Your hand slipped down the front of his shirt down to –

“Merlin,” Remus cursed suddenly, and he jolted slightly behind you.

You smiled.

“Er – you really want to – oh, fuck, Lovely,” Remus moaned, as he felt your hand wrap oh-so-sweetly around his cock. 

You kicked the covers off of you. “If you’d be so kind, Rem…”

Remus reached down and shimmied your pajama bottoms to your thighs.  Then, he tugged your panties to the side.  You felt his warm fingers brush lightly against your waiting pussy, and you hummed happily.  Meanwhile, you stroked Remus’ cock slowly, letting your hand run up and down his length, over and over again. 

Remus began to pant slightly against your neck.  The next moment, he gently pushed your hair to the side, and he planted a rather needy kiss against your neck.  Then, with his other hand, he slowly pressed his fingers against your clit and began to rub you. 

“Ah…” you breathed out.

Remus massaged your pussy tenderly, until finally, he slowly sank two fingers inside of you.

“Mmm…!” You let out a pleased moan, when you felt his fingers sink into your warmth like that.  I’ve never going to get over how he touches me, you thought.  So cautiously, so nicely, and yet his hands are so big and warm that he fills me up and makes me all needy in seconds.

Sure enough, as Remus began to softly pump his fingers in and out of you, you felt yourself getting feverish quite quickly.  You began to shift your hips back and forth, rubbing your thighs together, unconsciously pleading for Remus to push his fingers deeper inside of you. 

At the same time, you were starting to fist Remus’ cock harder and harder.  Behind you, you could hear Remus start to pant in earnest against your neck.  “L-Lovely,” he breathed out.

You felt such a warm glow effervesce in your heart, as you caught these little telltale signs that you were giving pleasure to Remus. As you felt Remus growing harder in your fist, you murmured softly, “Mm…” and Remus gave you an affectionate little nibble on your ear.  At the same time, you felt Remus’ hands all over your soft breasts, massaging them, and then feeling your curves, tracing the shape of your hips and waist to his heart’s content.

When I have her underneath me like this, warming up our bed with her perfect little shape, I can’t think of anything I wish for more, Remus thought.

As it were, both of you began to lose control together, as you warmed each other up.  Finally, you reached back and yanked Remus’ pants and briefs down.  Remus gently pushed up your thighs then, so that your pussy would be right there, sitting so nicely and just begging to take his cock.  You reached over and pulled your pillow out from under your head and instead decided to hug it.  As Remus began to slowly push into you, you bit down on it and let out a long, muffled moan.

Feels so good, you thought, as you felt Remus push gently, but firmly, into your tight pussy, coaxing you to relax enough to take him.

“Ah…” you breathed out softly.  You held your breath as you felt Remus sink into you.  Your thighs shivered slightly, and Remus quickly ran his hands all up and down your thighs to soothe you. 

“Taking me so well,” he murmured out affectionately to you.  “Just a little more…”

When he finally hit up against you, you both let out a sudden breath.  Then, you moaned out, “Ah, Remus, right there!”

“Yeah? Right here, darling?” Remus whispered, leaning forward to cover your shoulder with kisses.  As your pajama top was in the way, he reached forward and unbuttoned a few of the front buttons, just enough to be able to yank the sleeve down your shoulder, so that he could kiss your bare shoulder. At the same time, he pushed his hips forward again, making sure to hit right up against that sweet spot buried deep in your perfect pussy.

“Yes!” you breathed out, clutching onto your pillow tightly.  “Oh, yes, yes…!”

It was all so soft and gentle, with Remus’ arms around your middle, hugging you tight to him, while he worked his cock deep inside of you, softly and slowly.  You lay there, in complete bliss, hugging your pillow and moaning away into it, as wave after wave of pleasure crested through you.  When you slowly but surely reached your climax, Remus’ hands suddenly pushed at your thighs, pressing your hips into his.  In this way, he made sure that you were nestled against him and that he was as deep inside of you as he could be when you finally came for him.

“Ah…!” you moaned out blissfully, and you suddenly went all tense from head-to-toe. 

“Let go,” Remus whispered in your ear. 

"Nngh, R-Remus!" you stuttered out, feeling an incredible pulse pushing hard in your tummy and deep in your pussy.

Remus encouraged you in the sweetest of voices, murmuring, “Cum on my cock, sweetheart, that’s right…”

“Uhn, u-uhn, uh - Oh!” A hard huff left your lips as you released. You trembled all over, and then you melted entirely against Remus.

Remus groaned, feeling your pussy throb heavily on his cock.  Soon, you were absolutely dripping between your legs.  "Shit, Lovely," he moaned out weakly. "You get so wet for me now, mmm..."

Realizing quite quickly that you needed more tonight, you impatiently pushed the pillow off the bed and you lay on your back.  “Remus,” you panted out, stripping your pants and panties off entirely.  You threw them to the side as well.  “Please…”

Remus watched you reach down and fervently run your hands over your thighs as you spread them for him, clearly asking for him to come between them.  Remus put his hands down on the mattress, on either side of your hand, and he lifted himself up a little to hover over you. 

You quickly guided his cock to your pussy, and you ran the tip of his cock over your wet, wet cunt, covering him in your cum.  Both of you breathed out harshly, and Remus’ cock throbbed hotly in your hand.

Godric, look at her pussy, all glistening and slick - Because she just came for me. Trembling all over for me and tightening on my cock like that, mm... Remus moaned in his head. And now she's asking for me again, wanting me back inside her sweet little cunt - Remus shook his head, trying not to get overexcited too soon.

Meanwhile, you were still only letting the tip of his cock merely brush over your waiting pussy.

“That’s enough teasing, Lovely,” Remus told you, almost blurting it out.  “Just – Just let me inside you now.”

You bit your lower lip as a soft smirk appeared on your face.  You shook your head slightly, and continued to tease Remus, pushing the tip of his cock against your pussy, only to stop right before he pushed inside of you.

Remus’ hands balled up into fists on either side of your hand.  His chest went up and down as he began to pant quite heavily.

Oh my, you thought, watching Remus’ chest constrict and expand so fast, and watching his toned arms and shoulders shiver around you. 

“Lovely, please,” Remus moaned just then, in a more desperate voice that you anticipated.

You blinked.  Shit, I – I think hearing him beg like that might, um, might do things to me.  Before you knew it, you were greedily pushing his cock into you.  As soon as he was inside of you, you looped your arms up under his shoulders, pushing yourself a little ways down the bed to make yourself sink onto his cock.

Remus groaned loudly, and feeling you grasp onto his shoulders like this, he shuddered all over.  At the same time, he felt his cock delve back into your perfect, tight, and now quite wet cunt, and he couldn’t resist but to immediately snap his hips forward.  A rather wet smack! rang out in that moment, as his cock slammed deep into your already cum-drenched pussy, and his thighs slammed rather roughly into yours. 

“Ah!”  Your nails dug into his shoulders for a moment, as you took his cock.  A burst of golden light overtook your vision for a moment, and a strange ringing sound began to appear in your head.

“Are – Are you all right?” Remus breathed out haggardly.  He was fighting himself hard now, using all of his willpower to keep himself from full-out thrusting into your wet little pussy.

Still holding onto him, you managed to lift your head up just enough to kiss his chest, before you breathed out, “Yes!”

Remus let out a hard sigh of relief.  Then, relying purely on his shoulder and arm strength, he lowered his hips and began to thrust roughly into you, slamming his cock deep inside of you repeatedly.

“Ahhh!” you moaned out loudly, and all the strength left your body.  You had to let go of Remus, and you fell back entirely onto the bed as you were overwhelmed with how fucking hard and deep and fast Remus was taking you.  S-So deep, you stuttered in your mind.  Oh God, oh God, oh God…!

Remus glanced down at you, only to moan heavily at the sight of you.  Because he’d undid some of the front buttons of your pajama top, the sides of the shirt had fallen open on your chest, down to just above your belly button.  The soft material had caught on your nipples, and as Remus thrust into you, your breasts were bouncing softly on your chest, and Remus could catch glimpses of your pretty, pert nipples peeking out of your shirt every time he took you.

“Fuck, Lovely,” he cursed.

You wanted to ask him, “what?”, but you couldn’t speak, he was making you too breathless.  All you could give him was a soft whine, and Remus, in that moment, completely fell in love with you all over again.  Wanting nothing more than to drive you utterly mad with pleasure, Remus slammed his cock into you as hard as he could, driving his cock deep into your sweet spot.

“Mmmmm!”  You suddenly thrust your hand up into the air and rather wildly grabbed the front of Remus’ shirt.  Stars blinked furiously before you, and you couldn’t comprehend anything but the fact that you were with Remus, and he was damn well going to give you a baby tonight if he kept going on like this.  And you wanted it, oh Godric, you wanted it - !

Surprised, Remus fell on top of you.  However, nothing could have stopped him in that moment from giving you the best, hardest, roughest fucking of your life, so he put his arms around you, cradled your head in his hands, and continued to fuck the daylights out of you.

You were moaning non-stop, right in his ear, and your voice was getting all high and raspy.  Spurred on by how entirely sweet you sounded, Remus growled into your ear, “Get those legs around me, darling.  I want you deeper.” His voice dipped into a growl at the end.

Startled, your eyes opened blearily.  You whispered in disbelief, between your moans, “D-Deeper than t-this?”

“Yes,” Remus replied, quite firmly.  That reply held both a promise and a warning.

You needed some help in lifting up your trembling legs, and Remus reached down with one hand to help you, but you managed to wrap your legs around Remus’ hips.

“Hold on now,” Remus told you, and then, he pushed into you again.

Your mouth fell open in a silent moan, and then, dragging Remus’ shirt all the way down into your mouth, you bit down on it hard as you let out an absolutely mindless little whimper. “Mmmm….!”

“Yes, Lovely,” Remus breathed out, reveling how good you were being for him and how fucking perfect you felt like this, all gathered up under him and your pussy taking his entire length, over and over again. “Just like that…”

Remus began to thrust into you quite messily, as he was nearly unable to bear how good it felt to fuck his cock into your warm, wet pussy. 

You started to sob in earnest as Remus picked up the pace again.  Remus’ shirt fell out of your mouth, and you didn’t even realize that you were crying out, “Thank you, Remus! Oh, t-thank you – ah! – thank you, t-thank you! Mm!”

Remus let out a soft, breathless laugh, though it came out more as a growl as he was furiously working himself still.  “W-What are you -uhn - thanking me for, Lovely?”

“I don’t – Uhn! It’s just – You make me f-feel so good, Rem,” you blabbered, almost crying with pleasure.  “S-So g-good!”  You threw your arm across your face suddenly, and at the same time, you arched your back so intensely that Remus felt your tummy press up against his abs.  You shuddered all over, and you started to sob, “P-Please c-cum in me, p-please, not f-for a baby, but just – oh Gods, c-can’t you – ah, ah, AH! – c-cum in m-my pussy, p-please?”

Remus let out a regretful, wanting moan.  Driving his cock into your pussy yet again, he whispered, in a strained groan, “N-Not tonight, L-Lovely.  But here - ”  Remus suddenly got onto his knees and, holding your head up with his hand, he shoved his cock deep into your mouth.  You gasped loudly, and your hands flew up to his thighs.  But then, realizing what a pleasant position you were in, you started to suck at his cock at once, moaning for him.  Only, Remus was already there.  Just the sight of you so eagerly taking his cock in your mouth like this, with your hair messy on the bed and your cheeks flushed pink and your eyes all watery, while your thighs were splayed out, also blushing pink from his thighs slamming into yours, and your pussy the pinkiest of all, pulsing, wet, and beautiful – and Remus was cumming in your mouth.  Your eyes went wide, as you felt him release in your mouth.  A warm rush of cum gushed out.  You shut your eyes and quickly swallowed, taking him all in.  As he finished, you managed to move your head back and forth a little too, milking his cock and making him climax for as long as possible.  Finally, Remus slumped over, with his hands falling heavily onto the headboard. 

Though you were entirely exhausted, you managed to sit up on your elbows, and you hugged Remus tightly and placed kisses all over his chest. 

As you gained your strength back, your hands went pat-pat-pat up his chest, until you were able to grasp the back of his neck, at which point you pulled Remus down for a kiss.

“Oh Godric,” Remus breathed out, as he sank back down onto the bed with you.  “That was – That was - ”

You smiled cheekily at him.  “Shameless and utterly sinful, wasn’t it?”

Remus let out a warm chuckle.  “Perhaps, but you know what?”

“Hm?”

“It felt heavenly.”

You pulled the covers up around you both, and Remus held out his arm, so you could rest your head on him.  You eagerly snuggled up to him, and Remus fondly kissed you on the top of your head.

After a moment, Remus threw out, as quite a casual remark, “I rather like you in button-ups.  It’s quite nice to see them fall apart on you.”

“Remus!” you said, surprised by his scandalous remark. 

Genuinely surprised that you were surprised, Remus said urgently, “What? What? Did I say something wrong?”

You burst into a fit of laughter, falling over onto his chest. 

“Lovely, what?” Remus repeated, not understanding you.

You quickly shook your head.  “No, nothing.  Sorry, Rem, I just – That came out of nowhere, is all.”

Remus’ brow furrowed.  “It didn’t come out of nowhere, Lovely.  I said it because we spent the last half hour making love to each other and - ”

“I know, I know,” you said, still giggling a little.  You placed your hand warmly on his chest.  “Well, that’s good to know.  I’ll make sure all my pajama tops are button-ups then.”

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

The next morning, when you woke up, Remus had already gone for his Order shift at Harry Potter’s house.  But there, on your bedside table, Remus had left you a stack of books about mythical rabbits and moon spirits, as well as a Sugar Quill.

You smiled as you reached out and picked up the Sugar Quill.  Ah, right, I remember these.  He used to bring them to me at Hogwarts because I’d always suck on the end of real quills and he was worried I’d choke on one of them at some point. 

It was seven o’clock on a Saturday morning.  You dragged yourself down to the common room, where Oliver sat, flipping through a Quidditch playbook.  Seeing you, he opened his arms, and you immediately nestled in against him. 

Still half-asleep, you murmured, “Hi” as you snuggled into him.

“G’morning,” Oliver said, putting his arms around you and still holding up the playbook to read it.

“Mhm,” you mumbled out, and then, you pressed some sleepy kisses against his neck.

“You know,” Oliver told you, “with a Seeker as good as Harry, everything’s coming together.  I think, if we practice enough, we can even go for Formations 26 and 27 this year.”

You said sleepily, “That’s wonderful…”

Oliver teased you, “I reckon if we keep up this good work, we’ll even be able to beat your team, Puddlemoor Unified.”

You cracked one eye open at this.  “Never.”  Then, you looped your arms around him and rested your head on his shoulder.

Oliver felt you relax against him, with your chest pressing lightly into his as you breathed in and out softly.  After a few minutes, he knew you’d fallen back asleep. 

You weren’t sure how long you’d slept for, when you felt Oliver gently run his hand up and down your back and murmur quietly, “Hey, d’you want some breakfast?”

Still with your eyes closed, you hummed, “Mm…”

Oliver smiled, finding you quite adorable in your sleepy state.  “Yeah, you do?”  He reached over and touched your cheek.

You slowly opened your eyes.  “…Oliver?”

“Yeah?”

You paused.  “Was something said about breakfast?”

Oliver grinned.

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

You and Oliver went down to the Great Hall.  As it was still early, the Hall was fairly empty.  Katie and Alicia were there, and Oliver went to join them, though not before putting his face out a little so you could kiss his cheek first.  You looked over at the Hufflepuff table, certain that Corina was the only one who might be up at this time.  But then, you looked closer.  What are Charlotte and Alex doing up so early?  And why are they at the Hufflepuff table without Corina?

You went over to them, confused.  “Alex, Charlotte, what - ?”  Alex grabbed your hand and plonked you down on the seat beside him.  He hurriedly brought up a basket of oranges and used it to cover both of your faces.  Meanwhile, Charlotte, who was strategically holding up a piece of toast to hide behind, warned you, “Sh!”

“Uh, what - ?”

Alex jerked his head over at the Hufflepuff table.  You looked over, only to see Corina laughing brightly with  –  “Peter Jones,” you breathed out.

Alex nodded furiously.

“But why are we spying on them?” you asked, whispering.

“Because,” Alex whispered back, “it’s the fifth day they’ve had breakfast together and Corina hasn’t told us.”

“Well,” you said, “maybe she wants to spend some time with him herself before she tells us – ”

“Sh, they’re getting up!” Charlotte whisper-shouted.  She dove under the table.  Alex whirled around, and he grabbed your shoulder to turn you around with him.

“Is this necessary?” you wondered weakly, as Corina and Peter walked by without noticing the three of you.

“Ok, let’s go!” Charlotte got up from the floor. 

“Go where?”

“To wherever Peter’s taking Corina.”

“But - ”

“We’re not going to keep watching if it gets touchy,” Charlotte said, rolling her eyes at you.  “I just want to know where he’s taking her.”  She grabbed your hand and pulled you along.  Alex followed, grabbing a couple of muffins on the way out.

“I still think this is weird,” you mumbled, as the three of you traipsed out of the castle and followed Peter and Corina down to the grounds.

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

As it turned out, Peter and Corina decided to take a walk in the Forbidden Forest.  You, Charlotte, and Alex wove in and out of the trees, trying desperately not to be seen by Peter and Corina.  At one point, Charlotte ran out from behind a bush, only to see Peter pause and turn to Corina to tell her something, and Charlotte hurriedly backtracked to the same bush.  Unfortunately, when you saw Charlotte start to run forward, you and Alex left the tree you were both crouching behind and headed for the bush – so when Charlotte came back, all of you collided and it became a wildly crowded spot behind the bush. 

“Ouch!” you gasped, as Alex ran straight into your back, while Charlotte fell onto your feet.

“Shush, she’ll hear you!” Alex said nervously.

“Get down, or she’ll see you first!” Charlotte hissed. She reached up and yanked at your shirt, pulling you face-first into the dirt.   As you fell forward, you unintentionally stuck your hips out, and you pushed your bum into Alex’s knees.

“Aargh!” Alex stepped sideways to avoid your butt.  In doing so, he nearly tripped over a tree root.  Flailing about, Alex hopped thrice on one foot, only to keen over onto the ground while in the awkward shape of a swan’s neck.  Realizing that the bush was a lost cause for him, Alex managed to roll over until he was hidden behind a nearby rock.  Unfortunately, as Alex rolled over, a muffin fell out of his pocket and spilled onto the forest pathway. 

Corina paused. “What was that?  Did you hear that, Peter?”

Alex wheezed out quietly, “Accio muffin!”  The muffin flew through the air and through his legs, which were still sticking straight up in the air, and to Alex’s hand.

Corina and Peter both looked back – but the path was empty.  Everything was silent, too, as Charlotte kept you on the ground while you fought furiously but mutely to get out of the dirt.   Alex froze, reduced to lying on his back with his legs straight up in the air.  

Peter shrugged.  “I don’t see anything.”  He held his hand out. “C’mon, then.  There’s a meadow nearby I’d like to show you.”

“Oh, okay.”  Corina took his hand and started walking with him again.  But then, she looked curiously over her shoulder.

Noticing this, Peter asked gently, “Are you frightened of the forest?  We don’t have to stay here if you don’t want to.”

Corina gave an embarrassed smile.  “No, no,” she said.  “But I suppose it’s true that you hear such stories about the Forbidden Forest - how there are supposed to be all kinds of beasts out here, like werewolves and acromantulas.” 

“It’s all nonsense, or at least all exaggerated.  I’m sure most of the creatures in here prefer to be left alone,” Peter said.  “Besides, if there is anything out here, it’d have to get through me first.

Charlotte whispered in a dissatisfied voice, “Oldest line in the book, that.”

“I think it’s sweet,” you whispered back. 

“I s’pse it’s better than saying he’ll use her as a shield,” Charlotte muttered back.

You scoffed lightly at this.

Peter smiled at Corina. “That’s a promise, so don’t worry so much.” 

Corina looked up at him, then, and Peter paused.  The two of them stopped walking, though they stayed holding hands.  “Um…” Peter said uncertainly.

“Yes?” Corina murmured. 

From across the pathway, you heard Alex hiss from behind the rock, “Kiss…!”

Peter stuttered out, “I think I’d like to – Corina, I really want to – I mean, d’you think it might be all right if - ?”

“C’mon, Peter Jones, you can do it,” Charlotte muttered.  

You muttered, “I thought we were going to leave if things get touchy.”

“They haven’t yet,” Charlotte said.  Then, in the same breath, she whispered excitedly, “Besides, if we leave now, we’ll miss the kiss!”  She clasped her hands to her chest.  “Our little Corina, all grown up!”

“She’s the same year as us,” you reminded her dryly.  “Also, Corina has an early birthday, so she’s a few months older than all of us.  Besides that, I reckon she’s the most mature among us - ” 

“You shush,” Charlotte replied, poking you in the side.

“Ow, stop!”

“Oh, there he goes!” 

All three of you watched with bated breath as Peter finally managed to ask, “Corina, may I kiss you?”

Corina breathed in sharply.  But then, she reached down and took Peter’s other hand in hers as well.  She smiled and answered sweetly, “Yes, please. I've been waiting for you to ask me.”

Peter’s face lit up.  "Really? I'm - Godric, I'm so happy to hear that." He leaned in towards Corina -

A piercing yowl broke the quiet forest air.  “Meeooowwww!”

“Crookshanks, no, come back here!”

“Scabbers!  Damn it, stop chasing him, you mangy cat! Impedimenta!”

“Ron, don’t!”

All at once, an orange streak zipped by you, followed by a trampling herd of three students.  You recognized Ron, followed closely by Hermione, who was batting down his wand, and then Harry, looking a bit puzzled as he brought up the rear of the group. 

Ron yelled again, “Scabbers!” and barreled down the path.  Peter and Corina hurriedly separated, making way for Ron to run through them.  As Harry blazed by, he managed to yell at them, “Sorry!”

Corina’s mouth dropped open.  There was only silence for a moment. 

Peter sighed.  “Well…”

Corina shook her head and laughed a little.  “That was unexpected.”  But then, Corina paused and looked over her shoulder.  In shaking her head, she’d caught a glimpse of – “Alex?”

Alex, who’d poked his head out from behind the rock to watch Ron, Hermione, and Harry sprint past, was still slightly in view.  Hearing Corina call his name, Alex quickly ducked back behind the rock. 

“Alex, I saw you!” Corina walked briskly over to him.  "Come out from behind that rock!"

Alex sheepishly came forward.  “Um, hi, Corina.”  He looked at Peter.  “Hi, Peter.”

“Hi?” Peter said, confused.  “Alexander, right?”

“Yeah, although just 'Alex' is fine.”  Alex paused, and then said, as though he couldn’t help himself, “How’s the cauldron hunting going?”

“What?” Peter replied.

Corina shook her head fervently.  “Never mind him, Peter.  What are you doing out here, Alex?”

“Nothing,” he replied unconvincingly.  “You know me, I’m always out here.”

Meanwhile, you and Charlotte slowly eased into the bush, trying to submerge entirely into the shrubbery.

“Are you really?”Corina pressed, obviously not believing him one whit.  “And what are you always out here for?”

“The usual,” Alex said brightly.  “Um, looking for – er – some rocks.” 

Corina gestured at the rock beside him.  “Like the one you hid behind?”

Alex blinked. “Sure, I s’pse that would count.”

Charlotte silently face-palmed herself.  You bit your lip and waited, hoping Alex would find a way to get out of the situation without giving away that you and Charlotte were also here.

But Corina was far too smart for that.  She said to Alex, “I’m willing to bet you’re not alone.  Am I right?” 

“Um…” Alex offered feebly, “well, we are surrounded by mankind’s greatest gift.”

Peter’s brow furrowed.  “What d’you mean by that?”

“Nature,” Alex blurted out.

Besides you, Charlotte growled, “He’s such an idiot when it comes to lying.”

Corina whirled around.  “Charlotte, I can hear you!”

Peter’s gaze fell onto the bush, which was swaying rather oddly in the still forest air.  He said to Corina, “I think I see them.”

Charlotte and you looked at each other.  Run or admit defeat?  Charlotte rolled her eyes, signaling defeat.  The two of you got up, still standing in the bush, and with your clothes entirely covered by leaves.

Peter looked at both of you with a bemused expression.  “Why were you two so far in the bush?  You look like gnomes.”

Before you or Charlotte could reply, a yell sounded out from further down the path.  You whirled around.  “What was that?”

More shouts sounded out.

“Harry!  Harry, wake up!”

“Hermione, run!”

You took off.  You heard Alex yell after you, but you couldn’t afford to wait.  They sound like they’re in serious trouble.  They were arguing before, but their voices weren’t nearly as frightened.

You sprinted down the pathway.  Through the trees, you caught sight of Hermione.  She was kneeling on the ground beside Harry, who was unconscious.   Crookshanks also seemed to have gone limp with fear, lying on the ground a little ways from Harry.  Ron stood before all of them, holding his squealing, squirming rat in one hand and his wand out in the other.  A dementor hovered before him, swooping around Ron and clearly trying to finish off Harry.

You jumped off the pathway and into the clearing, joining the fray.  “Ron, Hermione, get Harry out of here!” you yelled. 

Seeing you coming, Ron ran over to Harry and hoisted him up, pulling his arm over his shoulder. 

“Run, and tell the others to alert the professors!”  As you spoke, you picked up the limp Crookshanks and threw the cat at Hermione, who managed to catch the flying furball.  

Worried, Hermione began, “But you - !”

“No time to argue!  Go, go!” you yelled furiously, shoving them all back towards the path. 

Hermione tucked Crookshanks under one arm and managed to take Harry’s other arm to help Ron take Harry back to the path. 

Still targeting Harry, the dementor tried to swoop past you.  You leapt in front of the dementor, brandishing your wand at it.  You shouted loudly,  “Leave them alone!”

The dementor let out a hoarse, furious breath, and then – it turned towards you.  You froze in place, as you suddenly felt extremely cold, as though pierced through by an ice.  Your throat and chest constricted, so that all at once, it was hard to breathe.  You held your wand out, but your hand trembled, and your mind went blank. 

The dementor glided closer to you.  You stared at its blank, dark void of a face, surrounded by its hood.  A voice whispered in your head, “No one… You’re no one…”

You were seven years old again, and no one had picked you for the neighborhood soccer game.  You were eight years old, and the teacher took you into a private corner to tell you that you hadn’t made the school play.  You were nine years old, and your teacher couldn’t even remember you very well as you and your parents sat down to discuss your progress.  You were ten years old, and everyone was playing hopscotch and jumping rope on the playground and you were sitting alone, on the swings…  All those years, you kept asking, “What can I do better?”  And all those years, teachers, parents, friend -  everyone - kept saying, “Oh, you’re fine.  You’re average.  Like everyone else.  Nothing to worry about.  Just be you.”

Is this all I am, all I will ever be, no matter how hard I try – just nothing and no one? 

A soft haze entered your mind.  You barely registered that the dementor was reaching towards you, with a skeletal black hand emerging from its sleeve…

But then, another voice broke into your mind, from somewhere deep in the back of your mind.  It growled, What are you doing?  Wake up.  Come on, wake up!

But I’m no one.  I don’t have anything to live for.

Stop it – and fight!  Fight for yourself!

You raised your wand, only to realize, to your horror, that you didn’t know what to do.  How do I fight a dementor?  There was no time to think, however, for the dementor grabbed your wrist and forced your hand down.  Your wand pointed uselessly towards the ground.

No!  a voice roared in your head.  Come on!  Fight!  Do anything!

What for…?

A single ray of sunlight broke through the forest canopy.  It came down as a golden shaft, striking you and the dementor.  The dementor hissed and backed away – and that was enough to wake you up. 

“Protego!” A shield erupted in front of you. 

However, the dementor reached out and easily broke through the shield.

Damn it, you thought desperately, I knew it. A normal shield won’t work on a dementor.  What do I do? 

“Incarcerous!” Ropes flew out of your wand and into the air, only they passed right through the dementor.   

You started to panic.  Oh Merlin, what do I do?  It’s getting closer!  Then, you recognized, wait, it seemed as if the sunlight affected it.

“Incendio!” Flames erupted from the end of your wand.  It drove the dementor back.  But after only a brief second of relief, the dementor charged forward again.  It flew through the flames, and the fire disappeared.

Shit!  Run for it!  You stumbled backwards, tripped over a rock, and hit the ground hard.  “Ugh!” 

The dementor saw its opportunity and swooped at you again.  You thrust your wand in front of your face and hurriedly yelled, “Incendio!” again. 

This time, the dementor reached out and swiped away the flames like it was nothing.  It decrepit, bony hands reached out towards you.  It grabbed your neck and began to squeeze  -

“N-No!” you choked out.  “No - !”

The dementor was coming closer.  You saw, with terror, that there was a mouth under the hood – a gaping, black mouth that was opening to take your soul –

“Expecto Patronum!”  A silver, ghostly cat appeared from out of nowhere and ran straight into the dementor, forcing it back.

The dementor let out a hideous shriek and made to charge at you again, but the cat pawed furiously back at it, and the dementor was forced to retreat.

As you lay there, gasping for breath and watching this incredible scene unfold before you, all you could think, in your hazy, half-conscious state was, oh Godric, please, not another cat…

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     * 

“…not supposed to attack students… lucky you were here, Minerva…”

“…warned Fudge… danger to us all…”

“…looks like Incendio, but that wouldn’t work…”

“…conjured ropes as well…”

“Pomona, alert the Headmaster….I shall take her to Poppy…”

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

You slowly blinked awake, only to find yourself floating along the castle corridor. 

“Professor?” you croaked out, for McGonagall was beside you.  She had her wand out, for she had magicked you onto a stretcher and was now guiding you to the hospital wing.

“Yes,” McGonagall replied. “You put up quite a fight against that dementor.  How are you feeling?”

My bum feels sore.  I must’ve fallen right on it, you thought, wincing as you felt a ripple of pain in your left buttock.  You decided to keep this information private for now, however, and instead said, “I’m fine.  What about the others?  Harry, I thought he was hurt.”

“He’s all right.  He’s in the hospital wing, with Weasley and Granger.”

“Oh, thank goodness.”

“Yes.  You did well in protecting them.”

“Well, I tried, but nothing worked against that dementor.”  Well, nothing but that silver cat, you remembered.  “Professor, why was there a cat?”

“I believe you saw Ms. Granger’s pet.”

“No, not that cat.  The other one – erm, the silver one - ”

“Oh.  That would be my Patronus.”

“What’s a Pat – what’s that?”

“A Patronus is a spirit guardian, of sorts.  It is a positive force, a projection of the things a human holds in his or her soul – hope, happiness, the desire to survive.  But, unlike a human, a Patronus is not subject to despair, and therefore the dementors can’t hurt it.  When a witch or wizard casts a Patronus, the dementor feeds on it, rather than the person.  Thus, it acts as a defense against a dementor.”

“Oh,” you murmured.  “So, that silver cat I saw – that’s your Patronus, Professor?”

“Yes.  My Patronus happens to take the form of a tabby cat.”

“I see.”  You lapsed into silence, simply watching the ceiling go by and marveling at the sunlight streaming through the high windows above.  It looks so angelic.  I’ve never looked up at the Hogwarts ceilings like this before.  There’s something rather peaceful about it – all that light up there.  You hesitated.  Wait, all that light up there?  Feeling silly, but needing to confirm, you blurted out, “I’m not dead, right?  I mean – your silver cat saved me in time?”

McGonagall seemed to sigh quietly to herself.  But she nonetheless took pains to answer you.  “No, you are most certainly not dead, child.”

“Oh, good.”  You breathed out a sigh of relief.  A wave of exhaustion hit you, and your eyes slipped shut.  You mumbled out once more, before you fell asleep, “Good.”

McGonagall let out an exasperated chuckle.  She asks about Potter, then the Patronus, and then whether she’s still alive or not.  One would think the questioning should naturally go the other way.

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

“Meow.”

Hm…?  You opened your eyes, only to see the squashiest and most squashed-looking cat ever sitting right on top of your chest, taking up your entire view.  You cried out immediately, “Ahhh!”

“Pipe down!”

“I told you she wouldn’t like it.”

“Here.”  Somebody whisked away the cat and handed it back to Hermione. 

Hermione held Crookshanks in her arms and petted his head, murmuring, “Crookshanks was only trying to say ‘thank you.’”

“Never mind that!”  Charlotte said.  “She’s awake now.”

A broomstick handle slid into view above you.  You blinked even harder.  What…?  Oliver’s face appeared above you, then, and you realized that Oliver was holding his broomstick.  As he leaned over to peer into your face, he’d shifted his broomstick forward a little, and the handle had poked out into your view.

Oliver had clearly run up from practice.  His face was pink and slightly sweaty.  He was wearing a red t-shirt, which was also slightly sweaty, and had grass and dirt stuck to one of its sleeves. 

Standing next to him, Corina asked you, “Are you all right?”

“Um, I think so…”  You paused, as you were still waking up and finding your bearings.  “What was that – ? I mean, was that a cat I just saw?”

Hermione stepped forward and presented her cat.  “Meet Crookshanks!  I meant to buy an owl, you know how useful they are, but when I actually went to the Magical Menagerie, I found Crookshanks.  The witch there said no one had wanted him for ages.  I can’t understand why.”

Behind her, Ron audibly sighed.  Hermione didn’t notice, and she instead asked you, “Isn’t he beautiful?”  She lifted Crookshanks up in her arms a little, so that you could see his face.

You stared at the enormous, orange cat, with a face that looked as though he’d run into a brick wall quite hard, face-first, and never quite recovered.  That was not to say that the cat was not charming, in its own way, but “beautiful” was not necessarily the first word that came to mind.  Still, you managed to say, “Er – yes.”  You thought to yourself, if there’s anything I’ve learnt from my experiences with Hannah and Bean, it’s to be nicer to cats – especially when their owners are right there.

Hermione smiled at you, and she stepped back to cuddle and coo at Crookshanks.  Ron shot Hermione and Crookshanks a disgusted look.  Besides you, Oliver coughed lightly, barely holding back a smile as he guessed, from your expression, that you were thinking about Bean. 

Just then, Madam Pomfrey bustled out of her office.  “What was that scream?  Is everything all right?”

“Yes, everything’s fine,” Alex informed her.  “She had a bit of a fright, is all.”

“She’s awake?  You should have told me!” 

As Pomfrey came over to you, Oliver turned to you and said, in a quite serious voice, “Are you all right?  When I heard the news, I rushed up here and then I saw you on the hospital bed - ”  He swallowed hard, and in a small voice that only you could hear, he whispered tightly, “You really had me scared, passed out like that.”

“I’m all right,” you reassured him.  You reached out to brush the grass off of Oliver’s sleeve –  Pomfrey stepped right in between the two of you, saying smartly,  “I’ll be the judge of whether you’re all right, dear.  The rest of you – out, now!” 

“I’ll come back later,” Oliver promised you, ducking around Pomfrey to look at you.  His eyes betrayed that he was still worried about you.

Wait, don’t go, you pleaded in your mind.  I don’t want you to go, especially not when you look so sad. 

Pomfrey said sternly, “But not until lunchtime, you won’t.  This girl needs her rest.  Dementors are nasty creatures to come across.”

Alex, Charlotte, Corina, Peter, Hermione, Ron, and Oliver all left the hospital wing.  As they disappeared through the door, Hermione called out to you, “Thank you for helping us!” and Crookshanks let out a loud, “Meowww!”

Pomfrey put her hand on your forehead.  “You look a bit peaky, I must say.  Though no one could blame you, given what happened to you.”

“I’m all right,” you said honestly.  “I’m a bit cold, I suppose, but nothing too bad.”

“Very well.  I shall bring you a Pepper-Up Potion.  Wait here.”  Pomfrey bustled off again, going into her medicine storage room to grab the medicine.  

You drank the Pepper-Up Potion, which chased out the strange fog in your head.  Still, you felt a bit chilly, as though you’d drank a gallon of cold water all at once, and the water was coursing through your system.

Pomfrey watched you carefully.  She remarked, almost to herself, “No, you’re still peaky.  Of course you are, I haven’t got that stashed away in my storage room, do I?  Well, I shall retrieve some from Professor Lupin, then, or perhaps head down to the kitchens.  One moment.”  She hurried off, leaving the hospital wing altogether.

You stared after her, confused.  Was I supposed to understand what she was talking about?  Ah, well… You lay back in bed, trying to recall what exactly had happened.  It had gone by so fast.  At least Harry’s okay.  He really worried me, when I saw him passed out.  And then, I must have passed out too.  But how?  And what were those voices I heard, and the visions I saw?  Why did I remember all the times I felt left-out, not good enough…? A flash of cold ran through you, and you shivered.

Just then, the door creaked open, and Oliver poked his head in.  You sat up.  Seeing you, Oliver put his finger to his lips.  He scanned the room, checking that Pomfrey wasn’t in the room, he slipped in. 

You called out to him, “She isn’t here.  She left to go get something.”

“Oh.”  Letting go of the door, Oliver came into the hospital wing and walked over to you, still carrying his broomstick.  “I know I’m not supposed to be in here, but I couldn’t – I mean, I got shooed out before we could talk.  Are you really all right?”  He came and sat in the chair next to your bed.  He leaned forward, examining your face just as seriously as Pomfrey had.

“Yes, I’m really fine,” you responded.  “I’m a little cold, but that’s all.”

Oliver frowned at this.  “I told you, you’re always a bit cold.”

“I’m really not cold when I’m sitting up in the Quidditch stands, I promise you, Oliver.  Besides, this was different, I came across a dementor.” 

“True.” 

Your gaze fell onto Oliver’s broomstick – his beloved broomstick.  Your nose scrunched up as you wondered aloud, “Has your broomstick always been this long?  I mean, why is it so much taller than you are?”

Oliver chuckled.  “It’s because you only ever see it from far away.”  He ran his hand fondly over his broomstick as he mused, “You never did let me take you through its paces, you know.  I’ve got to get you back on it, one of these days, and show you what it can really do.”

“I really think I’m meant to keep both feet on the ground as much as possible.”

“But you’d be with me,” Oliver countered.  “All you’d have to do is hold on – and you’re good at that.  You’ve got some muscle in your arms.  It’s your legs that need some work.”

“I’ll work on them with my own team.”

“Puddlemoor Unified?”

“That’s the one.”

Oliver grinned.  “Fine.”  He set the broomstick down, balancing it against the end of your bed.  He came and sat next to you on the bed.  Pressing his shoulder lightly into yours and looking down at you, he asked you, “But didn’t you like flying with me last time?  Once we were in the air, I rather thought you were enjoying it.” 

“Well…”

Oliver’s eyes dimmed.   “Oh, maybe you weren’t, after all.  Maybe I just thought you were because I was so happy to have you up there with me.  But if you weren’t, well, that’s all right, I s’pse - ” 

“No, Oliver,” you said hastily.  “I did enjoy myself up there. It was just that taking off was a bit scary, with the ground rushing away under you so fast. But being up there with you, it was – it was nice,” you finished, a bit lamely.

You saw the spark come back into Oliver’s eyes.  “Yeah, it was quite nice,” he said, speaking softly to you.  He reached over and took your hand in his.  Your heart skipped a beat, and a flush of warmth traveled from your hand all through your body.  You blinked.  Why did that feel so intense?  He only held my hand.  We’ve kissed now, and been with each other.  But, oh, I feel so much warmer, so much better, with him holding my hand. 

“So I will have to get you back on the broomstick,” Oliver determined.  “Once you’re all better, I mean.”

You watched as Oliver’s thumb slowly smoothed over the back of your hand.  I wish we could always stay like this, together.  But instead of saying that aloud, you teased Oliver.  “Hm… Are you sure you want to wait until I'm all better?  Because we both know that I’m stronger, and once I’m restored to my full strength, you won’t be able to get me onto that broomstick no matter how hard you try.”

Oliver pondered this.  “I’m sure I could think of a way.”

You shook your head lightly at him.  “I’m afraid there isn’t a way, Captain Wood.”

“When there’s a will, there’s a way,” Oliver countered. 

You nearly laughed at this, for Oliver said that old-fashioned saying so sincerely that for a moment, he sounded like a grizzled old man.

Oliver thought hard, his brow furrowing.  As he did, you put your head on his shoulder and waited patiently for him to come up with a brilliant plan. 

“I’ve got it,” Oliver announced, a few minutes later.  “I’d use a surround-target tactic.”

“A what?”

“I would surround you with a circle of something you’d want to avoid at all costs – say, cats - ”

You shuddered.  “Ugh, cats.  First Bean, now Crookshanks - if it’s not one cat tormenting me, it’s the other.  I can’t stand them anymore.”

“Exactly,” Oliver said, “so your only get-away would be smack in the center of the circle – in this case, me, waiting for you with my broomstick.”

“To avoid the cats, I’d have to get on the broomstick with you?”

“Right,” Oliver said proudly. “I would, of course, fly you away into the sky, far away from any paws or whiskers or tails.”

You pointed out wryly, “That would be romantic, if you weren’t the one who set up the death trap of cats for me in the first place.”

Oliver laughed.  “But you must admit, it would work on you.”

Unwilling to give in so easily, you shrugged.

Oliver gave you a knowing look.  “C’mon, with how loudly you screamed at the sight of Crookshanks?”

“That’s different,” you murmured.  “I’d only just woken up and it was – it was quite a face to wake up to.”

“Don’t say that,” Oliver berated you.  “That’s mean.  The poor cat doesn’t know he looks like he got squashed under a pumpkin.”

You looked over at Oliver, amused.  “You said that, not me.”

Oliver shook his head lightly.  “Yeah, but only because I knew what you meant.  I was merely saying your thoughts aloud.”

“Is that so?  So then, you find Crookshanks cute, do you?” you said, lifting an eyebrow at him.

Oliver shrugged.  “Sort-of.  I mean, he’s kind-of charming with how squashed he is.  Plus, his tail’s quite fluffy.”

You stared at Oliver, rather taken aback by how sincerely he was saying these things.  He’s not scared of liking cute things. Oh… I like that he can just say these things, so matter-of-factly.  Your heart melted for Oliver all over again.

Oliver continued, “Hermione was a bit offended that you screamed so loudly at the sight of Crookshanks.  I wanted to tell her about your feud with Bean, so she wouldn’t be so hurt, but I didn’t quite know how to explain it. But seriously, what is it with you and – and cats?”

“I don’t know,” you murmured, gazing up at him. “I really… don’t know.”

Oliver noticed how soft your gaze was as you looked at him.

Out of the blue, you confessed, “You know, I almost got myself a cat my first year.  It was the pet I wanted, even more than an owl or toad.”

“Really?” Oliver murmured.

“Yeah…”  You hesitated.  “I bet you didn’t want a pet, did you?  You wanted a broomstick.”

“Yes,” Oliver said softly. 

The whole time, the two of you had been slowly inching closer and closer to each other.  Now, Oliver abruptly kissed you.  A powerful wave of warmth hit you all at once.  You inhaled sharply, surprised by the sudden heat bursting forth in your chest, chasing out the cold much more effectively than the Pepper-Up Potion did. 

Oliver began to draw away from you, but you reached up and put your hand on his cheek, asking him not to move away from you just yet.  “Wait,” you murmured.  “Stay with me.  Could you – Could you kiss me again?  Please?”

Oliver nodded, and he kissed you once more.  This time, you shifted sideways, so that you were facing Oliver.  Oliver slipped his arms around you, and he brought you in against him as he kissed you.  Another burst of warmth blossomed within you. 

“Like that?” Oliver breathed out softly.  “Is that what you were asking for?”

“Yeah,” you murmured, staying with him.  “I mean, you could kiss me any way you like, really, it’s all quite… nice.”  You let out a sigh of relief as you drew away a little from Oliver, though you stayed in his arms and rested your head against his shoulder.  I don’t know if it’s a mental or physical thing, but my goodness, I feel so much better. 

Snuggling up against him, you said softly, “Thanks for disobeying Pomfrey and coming back here.”

Oliver paused.  “I think that’s the first time you’ve ever approved of my rule-breaking.”

You smiled, though you hid your face, pressing your lips against his shoulder.

Just then, the sound of footsteps approaching the hospital wing rang out.

“Bollocks,” Oliver cursed quietly.  “Well, I was going to give leave this by your bed when you were asleep, but I guess I have to fess up to it now, since I’m out of time.”  He reached into his pocket and hurriedly pulled out a small bag of –

“Chocolate hearts?” you said, confused.

“Yeah.”  Oliver put the bag of hearts in your hand.  “Like you brought to me, remember?”

“Oh,” you said, realizing what he meant.  “Right.”  You paused, as you still felt embarrassed when recalling that moment.  “I – um – I’d forgotten about that.”

“Although,” Oliver said, with his nose scrunching up a little, “I suppose you never really did give them to me.”  He looked over at you.  “Why didn’t you?”

“Oh…” you mumbled, looking away.

Oliver leaned into you.  He nudged your nose with his, making you look up at him.  “I think I want some chocolate hearts from you sometime…”

“Um…”

“I’m serious.”  Indeed, his eyes made clear that this was a genuine request.

You blushed.  “Okay.  I can do that.  I will – yes, I will.”

Oliver smiled.  “All right, then.”  His smile faded away, however, and his voice became much more fervent and warm, as he said, in a soft, almost pleading voice, “Get better for me, won’t you?”  He hesitated before he brushed stray strands of hair out of your face.  His motion was somewhat awkward, and his fingertips caught against your cheek a little.

You reached up and took his hand in yours.  “To be honest, though, I think I’m nearly all better, now that I’ve seen you.”

“Ah.”  Oliver’s Scottish lilt came through his soft expression, before he told you, “I can’t have you saying – I mean, don’t say things like that.  It makes it harder for me to leave you.”

You squeezed his hand in yours and whispered, “Then don’t.”

Oliver looked up at you, surprised by the intensity in your voice.  The two of you gazed at each other, and it felt as if the air between you was humming, alive with a secret, feverish energy pulling you both in towards each other. 

However, at that moment, Pomfrey entered the hospital wing.  Spotting Oliver at once, she marched over to him and said, “What did I say about coming back in an hour?”

Oliver gave you a sheepish smile as he turned away, only half-listening to Pomfrey as she firmly guided him back to the door.  He nodded half-heartedly at Pomfrey’s scolding, but you could tell that he wasn’t really taking it in.

You laughed as you watched him go.  Then, your gaze fell onto the bag of chocolate hearts in your lap.  I can’t believe he remembered that.  You unwrapped the bag and pulled out a chocolate heart.  I was so embarrassed, when the Weasley twins caught me and started teasing me, and then Charlie walked out and stared at me like I was a loon.  I wish I hadn’t been so embarrassed back then.  I should have gone through with it, now that I think about it.  The chocolate started to melt in your hand, so you put it in your mouth.

You gasped a little, as another bout of warmth hit you, this time, spreading all the way to your fingers and toes.  What is going on? Why is everything with Oliver affecting me so much?  

Pomfrey, having successfully escorted Oliver out, returned to you.  She stopped in surprise, however, when she saw you munching on a bag of chocolate hearts.  “When did you…?  How did you know to get chocolate?”

You looked up at her, only to notice that she had a basket of chocolate bars tucked away in her arm.  “Madam Pomfrey?” you said, confused. 

“Chocolate provides relief from the effect of a dementor,” Pomfrey told you.  “It’s only temporary, of course.  But it gives instantaneous relief, which is quite important.  If you didn’t know that, how did you come by that chocolate you’re eating?”

“Oh, Oliver brought me these.  As a get-well sort-of thing, I suppose.”

“I see.” Pomfrey checked your temperature again.  “Well, you seem much better.  There’s a flush to your cheeks again.”

“I feel all better, really.”  You hesitated, unsure of how to ask such an embarrassing thing, but you wanted to know – “Madam Pomfrey, does being with – erm – someone close to you – a friend, say - does that help you heal from a dementor’s effect?”

Pomfrey tried hard to remain her usual, professional self, but you caught the amused twinkle in her eyes. 

“Forget it,” you blurted out.  “I’m sorry.  That was a dumb question.”

Pomfrey shook her head. “It could, certainly.  You see, a dementor draws out the very worst of your moods and experiences.  I’m certain that reconnecting with things or people you like will help you recover.”

Pomfrey wrote out your discharge note, which recommended that you get some extra rest and indulge in some chocolate over the next few days.  As Pomfrey handed you the note, she remarked, “There’s another recommendation I would give you, that I can’t write on here due to it not being an – ah – medically accepted treatment, but, having seen the evidence with my own two eyes, I might cautiously recommend you spend some time with a certain Quidditch Captain you may be acquainted with - ”

“I got it!” you burst out.  Snatching the note from Pomfrey, you scurried out of the hospital wing, with your face smarting pink.  As you closed the door behind you, you swore you heard Pomfrey burst into merry laughter.

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

After being discharged from the hospital, you went and found Oliver.  He was lying in bed, flipping through a magazine called Quidditch Quarterly.  When he saw you peek into his room, he came over to you and opened the door wide.  “Hi.”

“Hi,” you said back.

“Pomfrey discharged you?”

You nodded.

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay.  I wanted to come see you.”

“Want to come join me on the bed?”

“Yes, please.”

The two of you headed back to his bed.  Oliver slid into his usual spot, on the right side.  You went around and began to climb atop the bed on the left side, when you noticed a new addition to his bedding. 

“Oliver?”

“Yeah?”

“What is this?” You picked up the new pillow on Oliver’s bed.  It wasn’t hard to notice because up until now, he had only had one pillow. 

“Oh, I got that for you,” Oliver said, leaning back against the bed and picking his magazine back up.  “I went down to Hogsmeade, and they said this was the softest pillow they had.”

“You.... You went out and bought this for me?”

Oliver nodded.  Then, he said, rather nervously, “Why?  Is it not soft enough for you?”  He scratched the back of his head, as he mused, “If not, we’ll have to put in a mail-in order somewhere else.”

“No, no,” you said quickly.  He keeps surprising me with how thoughtful he is.  You hugged the pillow to your chest.  “It’s perfect.  It’s exactly what I like.”

“Oh.  Good, then.  That’s a relief, because I don’t know much about pillows myself,” Oliver admitted.

You smiled at this.  You put the pillow down on the bed, but instead of lying on it, you pressed up into Oliver’s side.  Wrapping your arms around him and resting your head on his chest, you let him know, “You’re my medicine.”

“Huh?” Oliver said, bewildered. 

“Pomfrey said so.  I have to be with you.”  You buried your face against his chest.

“What does that mean?” Oliver wondered aloud, watching you snuggle into his chest.  The magazine slipped out of his hands and onto the bed, but he hardly noticed.  You were making yourself so comfortable with him that Oliver’s heart began to thump wildly in his chest.  

You sighed softly, finding his naivety quite cute.  “Silly,” you said.

Oliver’s brow furrowed in confusion, but you refused to elaborate.  Instead, while still resting your head on his chest, you reached over and picked up the magazine and handed it back to him.  “You should finish reading, or else you won’t know what to yell at the Weasley twins tomorrow, Captain.”

Oliver blinked as he took the book back.  He started to reply, but he saw you shut your eyes and sigh contentedly.  He reached down and pulled the covers over you.  Then, he glanced over at the pillow, going unused, as you were lying on top of him.  Feeling quite pleased with himself for some reason, Oliver picked up Quidditch Quarterly again, but with his other hand, he softly ran his fingers through your hair until you fell asleep on top of him.    

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

Something below you shifted.  You moaned tiredly and made to roll onto your side when – fwush.  Something light, but definite, fell on top of your head.

“Wuzz that?” you mumbled, as you jolted up in bed.  You opened your eyes, only to see Oliver already up, creeping around the bed with his training clothing on, and his hand stretched out.  You realized then that the magazine had somehow fallen on top of your head, and Oliver had failed in his attempt to grab it before it landed on you.  He muttered to himself quietly, “Must train my reflexes.”

Yawning, you fetched the magazine off your pillow and handed it back to him.  “Oh, are you off to practice?”

“Yes. Sorry I woke you.”

“No, no, I’m glad I woke up.  I like to know when you’re going off.”  You sat up, and the blankets fell off you all at once. You shivered as the cold morning air hit you.  Oliver came over to you and pooled the blankets around you, bundling you right up.  You blinked, suddenly finding yourself a floating head. Too late, you mumbled, “Uh, I think I’m okay.”

“You need to stay warm, especially after coming across that dementor.”  Oliver leaned in and kissed you on your forehead.  It was meant to be a quick, perfunctory kiss, telling you to stay in bed while he went to go practice – but then, you noticed that th zipper on Oliver’s jacket was caught on the cloth.  Managing to sneak a hand out of the heap of blankets, you fixed it for him.

“Thanks.”  Oliver took your hand in his.  “You’re still a bit cold, love.  Do you want me to take you to the hospital wing?”

You shook your head.  “I’m fine, really.”  You rested your hand on his chest.  “Maybe you’re just very warm.  You ever think about that?”

Oliver wanted to smile at your teasing tone, but when he breathed in, he felt your hand push lightly into his chest, and he found that his laugh got tripped up in his chest and got lost there somewhere. 

But before Oliver could react to you, you fell forward, leaning into Oliver.  You hugged him tightly, and you murmured, so softly that Oliver nearly missed it, “It’s like you heal me.  Like you chase out all the cold and darkness from the dementor.”  You let out a tight exhale and you squeezed Oliver in your arms.

Oliver hesitated.  If she’s saying that being with me helps overcome the dementor’s effects, then doesn’t that mean she’s still dealing with the dementor’s effects?  Maybe her saying that I’m her medicine wasn’t just a joke.  He asked you gently, “Should I stay with you today?”

“What?” you said, confused.  “You have practice, Oliver.  You were on your way out.” 

“I don’t have team practice until this evening.”

“No, but you practice by yourself every morning, as you have been every day for years now.”  You frowned as you lifted up your head to look at Oliver.  “Wait.  You know this already.  Why am I telling you this?”

“Because,” Oliver replied seriously, “if you’re feeling the least bit poorly, I want to stay with you.  I don’t have to practice today.”

“Yes, except you do have to practice today.”

“Why?” Oliver pushed back.

You blinked.  Huh?  Why?  Shouldn’t he know that better than me?  I’m not the one who’s been getting up at the crack of dawn for six and a half years in a row to practice by myself!  Flustered, you blurted out, less gracefully than you’d hope, “Because it’s such a habit that – well, if you don’t do it, something strange might – might happen!”

Oliver crossed his arms stolidly and looked down at you.  “Like what?”

“Your – Your broomstick might implode!  Or you might implode from all the pent-up energy you don’t get out!”

“What are you talking about?”

“You have to get out there,” you insisted, pushing lightly at his arms now, to try to push him towards the door.  “You have to.  You’ve worked so hard every day.  You can’t stop now.”

“It’s not about stopping,” Oliver replied, not budging at all.  “But I don’t want to leave you today.”  Deftly avoiding your shove, he sat back down on the bed and wrapped his arms around you, blankets and all.  

You protested, “I’m fine, Oliver.”

“I know you are.  But… But I want to stay with you.  I mean, maybe it’s because I’m still worried about you, but also maybe it’s because… I just want to be with you a little longer today.”  He looked at you, then, and his the corners of his eyes began to turn down, and his gaze became unbearably soft, as he whispered to you, “Is that bad?”    

Oh no, oh no, oh no – his puppy eyes, god damn it!  You hurriedly shut your eyes and turned your head.

“What?” Oliver said somberly.  “You don’t feel the same?  You want me to go?”

“No, but…” you said weakly.

“But what…?” Oliver murmured, sliding his chin onto your shoulder.

Ack, I can’t hold out when he’s being like this.  But I don’t want to be the reason he misses his morning practice.  Before you knew it, you blurted out, “I’ll go with you then!”

Oliver paused.  “What?”

“I’ll – I’ll go down to the pitch with you.”

“You’ll be cold.”

“I’ll bring this - ” you indicated the heap of blankets you were in – “with me.”

“All of this?”

“Well, no, I’ll pick one.”  You pulled one blanket out from the rest and wrapped it around your head.  “Here.  I’m all ready.”

Oliver stared at you.  Then, he burst into laughter.  “Ha, ha, ha!”

“What?” you said, suddenly embarrassed.

When Oliver kept laughing at you, now keeled over on the bed, you poked him in the shoulder and said grumpily, “Excuse me!  I am trying to be supportive here, and you are laughing at me!”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry,” Oliver said, still grinning.  He got up from the bed and held his hand out to you.  “All right, come on then.  It’s nearly dawn.”

The way that Oliver said “nearly dawn” made it clear to you that he was running behind his usual schedule.  Meanwhile, you mused to yourself, Dawn… When’s the last time I’ve seen dawn?  You shook your head as you secured the blanket around your head and then left the room.

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

With the blanket wrapped firmly around your head, you followed Oliver down to the pitch.  Oliver all but bounded before you with excitement as he led the way out onto the grounds.  “Actually, this is great.  You can time my runs!” he said enthusiastically.  “I think today’s the day I’ll finally manage to break the six-minute-thirty-second mark I’ve been stuck at for a year now.”

“Sure, Oliver.”  Then, it hit you what he just said – “Six minutes and thirty seconds for – for what?  A mile?”  

“I know, I know, it’s a little slow,” Oliver said hastily.  “I was one of the slowest at Puddlemere United this summer.  But I’m not as tall as the rest of the players, and I’m a bit – a bit stockier – er… Really, the fastest players need to be the Chasers and Seeker, but still.  Anyhow, I’m working on it, and I think I’m close!”

You said bluntly, “I don’t think I could fly a mile in six minutes and thirty seconds.”

Oliver gaze you an amused look.  “Yes, but that’s only because it would take someone at least six minutes and thirty seconds to convince you to even get on the broomstick.”

The two of you stepped out of the castle and into the low grey light blanketing the world just before dawn.  You tightened the blanket around your head.  You checked, “No one’s out here, right?  I don’t want anyone to see me like this.”  You had to whip your head back and forth to examine the grounds, since your peripheral vision was limited.

“No,” Oliver reassured you, “it’s only ever me out here.” 

“Good,” you said. “Because I look like an evil hag right now.”

Oliver grinned, but as he watched the fuzzy blanket go back-and-forth in the air he couldn’t help thinking, yeah, sure, but a cute one.

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

Half an hour later, you were sitting in the stands, still clutching onto your blanket over your head as you timed Oliver on the simple watch he’d given you. 

“Six minutes, ten seconds!” you yelled out.

You watched as Oliver dashed madly towards the end marker on the track, with his face all pink, his arms pumping in the air, and his legs scurrying along.

“Six minutes, twenty seconds!”

Oliver pushed himself as hard as he could –

“And time!” you called, standing up.  “Six minutes, twenty-four seconds!”

“YES!” Oliver roared loudly, pumping his fist into the air.  “Yes, yes, yes!”

You started to congratulate Oliver, but the sentiment died on your lips when Oliver suddenly ripped off his shirt and threw it at the ground.  He cried out once more, with all the fury he could muster,“Yesssss!”

You bit down on your lower lip, forcing yourself to keep quiet, as you didn’t want to break this moment of victory for Oliver.  But oh, the sight of him getting all riled up never fails to make me giggle a little, you admitted to yourself.  I can’t explain it, but something about him like that is so cute.

Oliver sprinted over to you and roared, “On my back!  We’ll do a victory lap together!”

You blinked.  “On your back?  You’re going to carry me?”

“Yeah. C’mon! Up you get.”  He knelt down in front of you.

You stared for a moment at the sweat drenching the back of his neck, while you were still stolidly holding onto the blanket covering your head and still in your woolly pajama bottoms.  We honestly could not have more different energy levels right now.  I am bound for bed to count sheep in my head, he is bound to literally herd five thousand buffalo and then some.  And I’m supposed to just climb on top of him and let him run with me on his shoulders? 

“C’mon!” Oliver urged.  “Just a lap!  It’ll feel good, I promise you!  It’ll wake you up and get your blood going!”  He looked over his shoulder at you and shot you a pleading look.  “Or… you don’t want to celebrate with me?”  

Oh gosh, there he goes again… Ack, fine.  “Okay…” You half-heartedly swung your leg over his shoulder.  “But don’t go too fast, now.”

Grabbing your thighs, Oliver stood up and shouted, “Excellent!  Hold on now!” He took off in an incredibly quick sprint around the track, leaving you hollering your head off and squeezing his shoulders with your thighs as you held on for dear life.

“I – I said not too fast!” you gasped.  You’d been on his shoulders before, of course, as Oliver had run back to the castle with you after practice once or twice.  But for some reason, the track felt different.  It was speeding away so fast below you and without any change in terrain, you felt you had no sense of Oliver running beneath you.  All you could do was hold on, but even then, because you had to hold onto the blanket around your head with one hand, you could only grab onto Oliver’s shoulder with one hand.  You clutched onto Oliver’s right shoulder as tightly as you could, but you were also worried that if he tripped, and you fell from this height, you’d eat the ground so hard, you’d taste the earth’s core. 

Oliver kept trying to reassure you, squeezing your thighs warmly in his hands and telling you that you were doing great and perfectly safe with him, but the speed at which he was running and his fervent energy negated any reassurance he might otherwise offer.  “You’re fine, I swear!” he shouted up to you, only to then laugh his head off as he dashed around the bend in the track.   He felt elated and electrified, whereas you – Well, your reply was a soft, but genuinely worried, “Ahhhh!” Meanwhile, your blanket flapped all around your head as Oliver followed the turned in the track.  The fuzzy material slapped at your cheeks and nearly whapped you in the eyes at one point.

“We made it!” Oliver shouted, as he crossed the line on the ground, marking the end of a lap.  “See?” he said proudly.  “If I could run that right after the mile, I still have more room for improvement!  I can definitely push harder and run an even faster mile, I know I can!”

“Sure,” you wheezed out, as all the tension in your body released at once.  I – I’m alive.  Oh my goodness, that was simultaneously the longest and fastest time has ever gone by. 

Oliver stopped and made to put you down gently, only to find you slipping off his shoulders, through his hands, and onto the ground, as if you were entirely liquid.  You landed in a heap on the ground, with the blanket slipping down from the top of your head onto your face.

“Hey, are you all right?” Oliver asked, kneeling down next to you.  He pushed the blanket off of your face.

“I – I am – I am fantastic,” you told him, trying to quiet the wheezes and huffs escaping you.   

“All right, then.”  Oliver leaned over and checked his watch on your wrist.  “Oh, good.  If we head up now, we still have time to shower and get a quick bite before class.”

“Right, yes, perfect,” you replied. 

You managed to get onto your feet and walk back to the castle with Oliver.  You wondered why in the world you were the one panting for breath and embarrassingly weak-kneed while Oliver was perfectly fine, breathing normally, and beaming happily.

You were able to hide how out of breath you were until you got to the staircase leading up to Gryffindor Tower – but your wheezes were undeniable as you unsteadily climbed the stairs up towards Gryffindor Tower.  After a few steps, you finally doubled over.

Behind you, Oliver watched with some puzzlement.  “Um, you all right there?”

“Oh, yes,” you breathed out. “Yes, I’m – I’m fine. I just need a – wheeze - a moment.”

“You sure?”

“Certain – wheeze – ly.”

Oliver simply watched you for a few seconds.  Noticing how much your thighs were shaking (from you having tensed your legs muscles the entire time Oliver ran you around the track), he murmured, “See?  This is what I was saying.  You really need to build up some leg muscle.”  He reached out and poked you gently on the back of your thigh.  Sure enough, you were all soft there, and his finger sank right into your plush thigh.

Startled, you nearly tripped over the next step.  Clutching the wall, you blurted out, “Oliver!  At least give me some warning!”

“Ah, sorry.” 

Oliver stayed a couple of steps behind you, crossing his arms over his chest (unwittingly taking the stance he assumed when he watched the other Quidditch players doing their drills) and watching with amused (and bemused) eyes as you made your slow ascent up to Gryffindor Tower.  Still doesn’t let me walk with her, he thought, with a soft sigh.  Then, another part of him felt quite protective of you, and he watched you carefully in case you showed any signs of genuine difficulty.  Oliver was ready and alert to pick you up and take you to the hospital wing at the smallest sign of hurt.  But as you climed the stairs, Oliver realized that you were simply out of breath for the first time in a long time and getting used to that sensation.  His eyes sparkled in amusement as he watched you slowly make your way up, still clutching onto that fuzzy blanket over your head.  With a soft smile spreading on his face, he couldn’t help but think again, Cute.

When you made it to your bedroom, you fell onto your bed to catch your breath.  Everyone else was still sleeping in the dormitory, and you tried to soften your breathing.  You relaxed and slowly went back to your normal breathing.

All right, I should wash up and get changed, you decided.  You sat up – and that was when you noticed.  Wait, I feel better than I did last night or even just this morning.  I mean, I feel noticeably better.  You paused, letting yourself take in how you were feeling mentally and physically.  Huh, there’s no more coldness remaining from my encounter with the dementor.  Even this morning, I thought I felt a little… chilly, still.  That’s why I couldn’t help but lean into Oliver this morning after I fixed his zipper.  It wasn’t on purpose, but he simply felt so warm…

You made your way to the shower. As you felt the warm water splash over you, you thought, I suppose Oliver really did take care of me in his own way – the chocolate, the naps he let me take with him, the unintended and terrifying exercise… You then mused, Watching Oliver get that mile under six minutes and thirty seconds and carry out such a hilarious celebration, stripping his shirt off at the break of dawn and cheering for himself like that –  I wonder if he’s been doing that out there all these years, all by his lonesome. You giggled at the thought of this, finding it oddly adorable, and even then, thinking of Oliver made your heart lighten.

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

After getting dressed, you went down to the Great Hall for breakfast. Spotting Charlotte and Alex at the end of the Gryffindor table, you started towards them when – “Ah.”  You skidded to a stop.  

Corina was standing on the other side of the table, with her hands on her hips.  She was clearly telling off Charlotte and Alexander, who were sitting together with their heads humbly bowed.  Charlotte saw you coming, then, and she subtly jerked her head to the side, trying to warn you away. 

You quietly began to slink away, only Corina turned around. 

“Hey!” Corina called, realizing at once that you were running away.

“Later!” you yelled, and you booked it out of the Great Hall.

You ran all the way up to the Transfiguration room.  As soon as you stopped running, your thighs began to tingle.  You leaned against the stone wall for support.  Ack, I haven’t exercised this much all year – let alone exercised this much before nine in the morning.  Usually, I’m only just now waking up at this time.

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

Your intense morning exercise caught up to you in the middle of lunch, so that you ended up yawning all throughout lunch.  You yawned so much that Corina, who started off lunch with a severe glare at you, found her glare slowly melting into a look of quiet concern.

Meanwhile, the Weasley twins took turns throwing tiny paper balls at you, aiming at your open mouth whenever you yawned.  You were sitting at the Hufflepuff table with Corina, and the Weasley twins stationed themselves two rows behind you at the Ravenclaw table. The nearby Ravenclaws shot the twins confused looks when they spotted the ginger-haired and red-tie-wearing twins at their table. As it turned out, Oliver was sitting at the Gryffindor table with Alicia and Katie, and his position was such that he was essentially between you and the Weasley twins. When Oliver realized what was happening, he made a valiant effort to defend you from the Weasley twins’ throws, leaping from his chair and batting the paper balls away at every chance.

You were entirely oblivious to this little game of makeshift Quidditch behind you, not realizing that your mouth was a substitute for the hoop and that Oliver was taking his defense of you at an equal, if not higher, level of seriousness as protecting the Gryffindor hoop in a real game.

Poor Oliver was at a severe disadvantage, what with it being two against one. Finally, he stalked over to the Weasley twins to tell them off, but they merely feigned innocence (despite all the crumpled-up pieces of paper gathered on the table before them). Then, when Oliver returned to his seat, the Weasley twins shifted seats over to the Slytherin table (much to the dismay of many Slytherin students) and continued their game. Oliver threw them a dirty look, with his eyes smoldering in fury.

"Let it go," Katie said, "and they'll stop." But the words "let it go" were not in Oliver's vocabulary, and certainly unacceptable when you were involved, and so Oliver ended up disregarding his lunch entirely and focusing solely on defending you. Once, Oliver leapt up so suddenly that he knocked over the pumpkin juice jug and Alicia sighed as she calmly picked up her plate of food before the juice could reach it.

At the end of lunch, after Corina made you, Charlotte, and Alex pinky-promise never to spy on her and Peter again, you reached down to pick up your schoolbag, only to notice a tiny paper ball fall from your hair onto your bag.  You casually flicked it away.  You started to straighten up, when another tiny paper ball fell from your shoulder onto the floor.  Frowning, you looked up.  Behind you, the Weasley twins guffawed, and the students sitting next to them snickered too.

You looked around, wide-eyed.  “What?  Did I miss something?  Is this where I find out that I'm a stuffed toy and my stuffing's coming loose?"

The Weasley twins laughed even louder at your unexpected, anxious comment.

"What?" you repeated, looking around and waiting for someone to give you an answer.

Oliver appeared from out of nowhere and said to you, "Don't pay it any mind." He put his arm around you and guided you away from the Weasley twins.  Over his shoulder, he shot the Weasley twins a glare and hissed lowly, “You’re Beaters, not Chasers – and leave her alone!”

Not realizing that Oliver was mouthing furiously at the Weasley twins over his shoulder, you said vaguely, “Hm?  Leave who alone?”

Soft morning sunlight seeped in through the crack in the window curtains and bloomed across your sleeping face.  You reached out and tiredly patted the spot on the bed beside you, only to find it empty.  “Remus?” There was no answer. You opened your eyes, and you saw at once that the bed was empty. 

You pulled on your robe and shuffled down to the kitchen.  Sirius was there, sitting at the table. 

“Where’s Remus?”

“Good morning to you, too.”    

“Morning. Where’s Remus?”

“Remus went out to run an errand.”

“What errand?”

Sirius shrugged.

“An Order mission?”

“Dunno.”

“When did he leave?”

“Early, I think.  Remus actually didn’t tell me himself.  He told Bill, who told me when I came down here this morning to take over watch.”

“Oh.” You paused.  “When will Remus be ba - ?”

“For Merlin’s sake, how many times do I have to tell you?  I don’t know,” Sirius growled. 

“Well, I don’t know what you do or do not know unless you tell me, so there’s no need to get your knickers all in a twist.” 

“Whatever.”  Sirius jerked his head at the stove.  “Anyways, while you’re down here and busy pestering me, mind making some breakfast?”

Your eyes narrowed until they resembled serpentine slits.  “No, make the damn breakfast yourself.”

Sirius sighed.  “I knew you’d be like this.  All right, tell you what - if you make me breakfast, I’ll tell you where Remus went.”

“So you do know!”  You leapt forward and grabbed the front of his shirt.  “Sirius Black, you complete arse!”

Sirius smirked. “Now whose knickers are in a twist, hm?  I knew I’d need some leverage against you, since you’re such a hard ass.” 

You seethed at him, but Sirius lifted his eyebrow at you.  He asked you in an arrogant, knowing voice, “Well, am I wrong?”

With a disgusted “harrumph,” you let Sirius go.  You went over to the stove and then, drawing your wand out of your robe pocket, you magicked the pan to fly onto the stove and start heating up, while the eggs and bread came flying out of their respective cabinets. Behind you, Sirius grinned as he casually brushed the wrinkles you’d created out of his shirt.

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

Fifteen minutes later, you glowered at Sirius over your eggs, while Sirius informed you that Remus had gone to visit his parents.

Hearing this, however, a worried expression appeared on your face.  “He went to see his parents?  By himself?”

“I don’t know if he went alone, since I didn’t see him leave,” Sirius replied.  “Like I said, Bill was the one who gave me the message.  But apparently Remus said that he was going to visit his parents.”

After breakfast, you went back up to your and Remus’ bedroom, but you found yourself unable to focus on anything.  Why did Remus go alone?  I hope he’s all right. I wonder if he didn’t want me to come with him because of how I acted at his parents the last time I met them, yelling at them and all out-of-control.  Shucks, why did I have to lose my head like that last time?  You sighed.  All right, it isn’t doing me any good, just standing around here and worrying over Remus.  You pulled on a jumper and headed for the door, telling yourself, let’s get out of Grimmauld Place. 

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

You decided to take a leaf out of Remus’ playbook, and you went to visit your mum.  She had, after all, been kind enough to send those pastries along. 

Opening the door of her flat, your mother greeted you,  “Well, well, if it isn’t my delinquent daughter, hm?”

“Hi, Mum.”  You stepped in and handed her the bouquet of flowers you’d brought along with you.

“What’s this for?”

You shrugged. “I dunno, I just thought they might be nice for you.”

“Nice for me? What, d’you expect me to put them in my hair and dance around like some - ?”

“No, Mum.  Put them in a vase or something.”

Your mother sighed.  A moment later, she pulled out a regular glass and filled it with water.  Only, the flower stems were so long that the flowers kept flopping over.

“You don’t have a vase?” you said in disbelief.  “You, the woman who has every knick-knack under the sun to keep your flat clean, don’t have a vase?”

Your mother shot back, “Well, you tell me when’s the last time I needed a vase, when the only person who’s ever brought me flowers is your father.”

At this, you fell quiet.  Finally, you mumbled, “Sorry, it was supposed to be a nice gesture.  Sort-of a thank you for sending all those pastries to Remus and me.”

“Never mind.”  Your mother reached for the flowers, taking them out of the glass. “I’ve thought of a better place to take the flowers.  Grab your cloak.”

“What?”

“Grab your cloak, and come with me.”

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

Your mother knelt and rested the flowers against the tombstone.  You stared for a moment at your father’s name, inscribed in the stone, before you sat down beside your mother.

“It’s been too long,” your mother murmured, gently dusting off stray leaves atop the tombstone.  “I should have visited more often.  I’m sorry, my love.”  While she stared down at your father’s name, her eyes were full of a deep, shivering melancholy – the kind-of melancholy reserved for the grief we feel in the absence of only our dearest ones.  The wind rustled her hair, making it tumble around her shoulders, and giving her cheeks a soft flush.  You blinked, realizing, as you did every once in a blue moon, that inside your mother, there were two souls: the stern, protective soul, who guarded over the grieving second soul, who had once been quite naïve and delighted to fall in love with a young man many moons ago.

“I should come more often, too,” you said.  “I’m sorry I haven’t.”

“No, you’re busy.  Your father will understand that.  After all, you have the Order and you have – well, you have Remus, who is quite the handful - ”

“Mum,” you protested.

“He is,” your mother insisted right back.  “I’m not saying he’s not a good partner, but he carries a lot with him.  Even I can see that.”

You shook your head, but you didn’t want to argue.  Instead, your gaze fell onto your father’s grave.  “I wonder what Dad would have thought of Remus.”

At this, your mother scoffed.  “I’m sure your father would be absolutely beside himself with excitement at the thought of his little girl being in love with anyone.  He’d love whoever you loved – he couldn’t help it, he was foolish that way.  I’d have to bring him back down to earth and remind him that, as your parents, we’re supposed to ward off the bad ones and the unlucky ones.”

“You see Remus as an unlucky one, don’t you?”

“Absolutely, I do.”  But then, your mother added, rather reluctantly, “However, I’ve begun to think that he’s so foolish that he doesn’t even recognize his own unluckiness, and I suppose there is some sort-of divine protection stemming from his utter ignorance.”

“Mum!” you snapped, offended.

Your mother looked over at you.  “Do you love Remus?”

You opened your mouth, ready to insist that you did, when you saw your mother’s expression.  She looks… hopeful for me.  As if she really wants to know what my answer is.  Softly, you confessed, “Yes, I love him.  I adore him, actually.”  Without realizing it, in that moment, you mirrored your mother’s energy, your eyes sparkling with the same melancholy wistfulness.  

Your mother said, with such certainty in her voice, “Then, that’s exactly how your father would feel about him, too.”

“Oh…” You looked down at your father’s tombstone again.  Really?  Oh, I hope so.  I hope you’d love him, Dad.  Your eyes became misty, and you sniffled a little.

Your mother arranged the flowers around the tombstone. Then, she stood up and held her hand out to you.  You felt quite young again, for this was exactly how your mother ended all of your visits together to visit your father’s grave – she would hold out her hand to you.  Neither of you said anything, but you held hands all the way down the hillside and past the exit gate of the cemetery. 

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

You returned to Grimmauld Place.  Still no Remus.  You went to the kitchen and made a cup of tea.  Darjeeling, Remus’ favorite.  You began to sip the tea when you heard a knock on the front door.  A knock?  That’s odd.  Only Order members are able to see the door to Grimmauld Place, and of course, they simply walk right into headquarters.  We’re not really supposed to have visitors here, after all. 

Wand out, you cautiously approached the front door when – a hand grabbed your shoulder.  You nearly threw a hex over your shoulder, but you saw that it was Sirius and stayed your hand.  Sirius held a finger up to his lips.  You nodded, and you both crept forth.  However, when you looked through the peephole, you saw that it was –

“Mr. Lupin!”  You yanked the door open, all but shunting Sirius into the wall.  

“Call me Lyall, please.”  Remus’ father stepped inside the house.  You quickly examined the street, ensuring that there weren’t any followers or odd signals before you closed the door.

“May I take your cloak?” you asked politely.

“No, I’m only here for a minute, I’m afraid,” Lyall said.  “Is my son here?”

You looked over at Sirius, confused.  I thought Sirius said Remus went to his parents.  So then, why would Lyall be here, asking for him? 

Sirius looked equally confused, but he replied calmly, “No, sir, he’s out at the moment.”

“Ah, I see.”  Lyall looked down at his hands rather uncomfortably.  “Would you mind giving my son a message?” 

“Of course.” 

Lyall began to speak in a hesitant, faltering voice. “Tell Remus that I’m sorry for the trouble I caused him the last time I was here, but that my message still stands.  He must be careful.  Tell him – well, please tell him that I’m rather proud of him. Even though I wasn’t the one who was bitten, knowing that my son suffers so because of me, somewhere along the line, I gave up entirely on my life.  I thought Remus would, too, someday.  But I see that he hasn’t, that he insists on continuing to live his life.  Otherwise, he wouldn’t be a part of the Order nor would he have dared to act on his love for you.”  An embarrassed, but tender smile appeared on his face.  “He’s rather strong, isn’t he, my son?  Even though he doesn’t look like much.”

Pity and sympathy overflowed in your heart for Lyall Lupin.  The first time I saw Lyall, I thought he had a very different energy from Remus.  But seeing him standing here like this – uncomfortable, yet standing his ground – I see they’re a lot more alike than I originally thought. 

“Sir, with all due respect, I think you should tell him yourself,” you replied.  “It would mean more if he were to hear it from you.”

 “No, Remus would prefer not to see me, I think.”

“That’s not true,” you countered softly. “I’m sure that a kind word from you would bring him immeasurable comfort, even if he doesn’t say so. You could wait for him here, if you’d like.  I’d be happy to make you a cup of tea while you wait.”

“I wouldn’t like to impose, and besides, Hope is waiting for me.”  Rather abruptly, Lyall changed course.  “On second thought, please don’t say anything about my being here.  It’s unnecessary.  I’m sure I’ll cross paths with my son again soon.  Yes, it’s better to – better to keep my distance for now.  I’m sorry I intruded upon you all.  So sorry.” 

“Wait, Mr. Lup - ” you began, but Lyall had already turned tail and left. 

You looked over at Sirius in awe.  What was that?  To your surprise, Sirius chuckled. 

“What?” you asked him, rather defensively.  How could he possibly think this is funny?  Poor Lyall, and poor Remus. 

Sirius remarked, “Well, I s’pse now we know where Remus gets his habit of running away from his feelings.”

“Sirius,” you scolded him.

“It’s true, though.  They’re exactly alike, getting all bashful and stammering out their sentences.”

“Shush, Sirius.”

“And then, when they simply can’t take it any longer, they try it take it all back and then they scram as fast as they can.”

“They do not.”

“It’s not a werewolf thing after all, it’s a Lupin thing,” Sirius continued, still chortling.  “I wonder if the whole family’s allergic to feelings.”

By now, you and Sirius were back in the main hallway.  Having had enough of Sirius’ drivel, you took the opportunity to shove him into the nearest drawing room and yank the door shut.

“Hey!” Sirius yelled indignantly.

You tapped your wand neatly on the doorknob. “Colloportus.” There was a great suctioning sound. 

On the other side of the door, Sirius shouted, “Did you just lock the door ?  Oi, come back here, you stinky, slimy, piece of - !”

Dusting your hands off, you walked back to the kitchen.  You figured Sirius would magick himself out in two minutes, but that was plenty of time to take your tea up to your and Remus’ bedroom, where you would not be bothered. 

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

Snowdrop flowers jingled merrily as Remus made his way down the snow-covered bank to the river. 

Underneath a high sky carrying clouds overhead, mirrored below in the crystalline river glazing past, Remus chose a spot on the riverbanks.  Once he settled in, he waited patiently. 

After not too long a time, a sharp yelp! rang out and a familiar fox burst onto the scene. 

Remus smiled.  “Hello, Art.  Long time, no see. How do you do?”  He held out his hand. 

Artemis came forward and sniffed his hand, only to furrow her nose at him. 

Remus chuckled.  “Still no luck, huh?”

Then, a much lower, fuller bark rang out a few yards away.  Remus held his breath as the moon wolf slowly loped into the clearing.  Artemis yelped brightly in greeting.  However, the moon wolf immediately put himself between Remus and Artemis.  Then, the wolf growled lowly and bared its teeth at Remus.  He was clearly telling Remus to mind his own business and not entertain any thoughts of bothering Artemis. 

Remus breathed out.  The wolf’s even larger than I remember him, and his dark, furious energy… I can sense his power, even from here. He could take my face off in a second, if he wanted to.  Remus nearly backed away, but he forced himself to remain where he was.  After all, he’s my werewolf.  As much as that thought frightens me, it’s true.  If I can’t make peace with him, who will?

Finally, Remus managed to speak to the wolf.  “You don’t seem pleased to see me, and I can’t say I blame you.  For my part, I thought I’d stay away from this place forever just to avoid seeing you.”

The wolf growled, sensing Remus’ reluctance and finding it insulting.

“But I did come back, and, strange as it is, I came specifically to find you,” Remus said hoarsely.  “Because there’s something I need to know, something I need to ask you.” 

The wolf stared at Remus untrustingly.  Artemis let out a soft whine, and she came around and pawed gently at the wolf.  She looked up at the wolf, then at Remus.  It seemed she was remembering something that she had learned long ago, something like – smells bad, maybe, but still – friend.  Finally, the wolf slowly sat down on his haunches.  Both animals (or spirits, more precisely) turned their heads towards Remus.

Remus looked at Artemis, but he addressed the wolf.  “You know, don’t you?  That you’re not made of the same spiritual energy as her.  She comes from the bright side of the moon, always illuminated by a warm sun.  You’re from the dark side of the moon.”  His voice became painfully quiet.  “You’re  nocturnal, and you’re savage.”

Artemis’ head whipped back and forth between the wolf and Remus, as the two of them stared at each other, perfectly still.  Remus murmured, “You might think you’re good for her – a protector, a friend – but you know you could hurt her, if you were careless for only a moment.  The fact that you would like to share a home with her, that you would like to be a home with her – that could be the very reason you end up harming her.”

The wolf’s ears twitched, and a displeased growled rumbled deep in his chest.

Remus’ gaze fell to the perfect silver circle on the wolf’s chest.  He whispered pleadingly, “But you wouldn’t, would you?  You wouldn’t dare hurt her, right?  Even if your nature is so dark and savage, when it comes to her, you would never hurt her.  Right?”

Affronted at the mere insinuation, the wolf huffed loudly and looked away from Remus.  Artemis whined again, and she cocked her head curiously at the wolf.  In response, the wolf stood up, wrapped his tail around hers, and softly pulled her away, as if taking her away from Remus, who sat there, saying aloud stupid doubts that the wolf would have nothing to do with.

As Remus watched them go, he let out a long breath.  I see.  My weakness isn’t you.  It never was.  It’s been me, all along.  He closed his eyes.  I suppose I’ve known this for a long time.  I simply never wanted to face the fact that I was the issue.  

Remus fell over into the long, swaying grass.  He looked up at the sky, in all its dizzying height and clarity.  I see what Lovely means, that this infinite space, as beautiful as it is, is also frightening.  I feel as if I could lie here, under this endless sky, until I die, and it simply wouldn’t matter.  But there’s an odd peace to this feeling, too.  What a relief to know that nothing matters.  What a relief to know that someday, I will pass on.  What a relief to know that whatever I do from here forth, I do simply because I want to experience it, and that’s all there needs to be in life.  I’ve been so afraid all my life.  But what would I do if I wasn’t so afraid?  Because I don’t have to be so afraid, all the time.  Not like this.  I see that now.  Remus reached out and gripped the grass firmly in his hand.  And then, he asked himself the same question that Tristan and Rowan had grappled with, which was:  With this life that’s been given to me, what is it that I choose to do?

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

After Remus’ visit to the mythical world, he indeed went to visit his parents.  He Apparated to the moors and walked over to the lonely little cottage.  He knocked on the door, and when it opened and he saw his father, he murmured, “Hello, Dad.”

“Oh, Remus, it’s you.”  

“Yes.  May I speak with you for a moment?”

Lyall replied, a bit gruffly, “I s’pse so.  Come in, son.”

As Remus stepped inside, Lyall murmured, with a faint blush appearing on his face,  “So, she told you, after all, that I stopped by this morning.”

“What?  Stopped by where?”

Quickly, Lyall replied, “Never mind.”

Remus realized, “You came to Grimmauld Place this morning?”

“Well – Yes, I did, but you weren’t there,” Lyall stammered out. 

Hope came into the room. “Lyall, who - ? Oh, Remus, dear!  Goodness, this is a surprise visit!” 

“Hi, Mum.  I’m sorry I didn’t send an owl before coming.”

“Nonsense!  Sit down.  I’ll make you some tea.  Would you like breakfast?  I can make you your favorite.”

“I’m all right, Mum, I won’t stay long,” Remus said.  “It’s just that I’ve something I want to say to you both.”

Lyall and Hope looked at each other nervously.  “All right, Remus,” Hope said.  “We’re listening.  Tell us.”

But for a brief moment, Remus found his attention captured by the room he was standing in.  He’d always loved this house on the moors, as far away from civilization as it was.  Or perhaps it’s because it’s so isolated and dreary that I’ve always found it comforting… Remus thought vaguely.  He glanced over at the shelves on the walls, which held traces of his and his parents’ old lives, such as his father’s awards from early on in his career and photographs taken of the three of them on holiday.  They were all from before Remus had been bitten, of course.  From the pleasant scent wafting through the house, Remus recognized that his mother must have hung and dried a bouquet of lavender and moss, picked from out in the moors, somewhere in the house.  Often, when Remus was a young child, his mother tied a bouquet of lavender and sage beside his bedroom door, both to help him fall asleep with the soothing scent and to ward off the bad spirits.  We never did that in our house in London, though, Remus mused.  Perhaps we should have, and it would have kept Fenrir out. 

“We always used to come here, didn’t we?” Remus murmured.  “Between every place we ever lived, we came here.  We’d get caught in one town and have to escape here to figure out what the next town was where we could start over again.”

Lyall nodded a little, continuing to watch his son carefully.

Remus said quietly, “I suppose, because of how much we moved, this place felt more like home to me than anywhere else, except maybe Hogwarts.”

“You loved school,” Hope said warmly. “You were good at it, too – good at your studies and good at finding friends.  You met your girlfriend there, too, didn’t you?” 

Remus nodded. 

“It was nice to meet her,” Hope said.  “I’d wish you’d brought her to us sooner.”

“I wish I did, too,” Remus replied. 

“I thought you wanted your privacy,” Lyall said gruffly.  “I stayed away for as long as I could on purpose, because I thought you’d prefer that.” 

“I know,” Remus said.  “You meant well, Dad.”

Lyall and Remus both fell silent. 

Remus drew his shoulders back slightly, as he finally said what he had come to say.  “Mum, Dad, the truth is… I was always trying to earn your forgiveness, and I never realized that you were trying to earn mine.  I need you both to know that I forgive you, and I don’t resent you for my being a werewolf.  I never have.”

Hope’s eyes widened – first with joy, then with fear.  Beside her, Lyall said grimly, “Remus, you may change your mind if you knew the truth.  I never told you this, but the only reason you ever became a werewolf is because I angered Fenrir - ”

“I know,” Remus said.  “I found out what happened, from Fenrir himself.”

Hope gasped. “You – You met him?”

“I did.” Remus steeled himself, as he told them, “That’s how I can tell you that it’s not your fault. So please stop thinking that I cannot forgive you.  I do.  I have, since a long time ago.  Besides, the real truth is that you never needed my forgiveness. Nor did I need yours. I see that now.”

Lyall’s eyes shadowed over in pain.  “Remus, that’s very brave of you to say.  But it’s one thing to think that way, and another to feel it.  Even if that’s what you believe, I don’t think that’s how you feel.  You take every reason you can to keep us at a distance.  I don’t blame you for it, not one bit.  It’s all my fault - ”

“Lyall,” Hope said softly, “don’t say that.”

Lyall pressed, “It is.  But Remus, you cannot stand there and tell me that you don’t resent me for what’s happened to you – to your life.”

“No, Dad.  I don’t resent you for that.”

“Remus - ”

“Please, listen.  I didn’t resent you for that. What I did resent you and Mum for is – is the fact that you were so busy trying to protect me that I never, ever felt like you loved me. I know, in my mind, that you did love me, but I never felt it.” Remus’ voice became choked, but he forced himself to keep speaking. “I know, too, that you had the best intentions and that my being a werewolf put us all in an unsolvable hell. But, for God’s sake, there was never a moment where you were simply my parents.  I was always your werewolf son, never just yourson. Maybe it wasn’t realistic to have such a simple relationship, but I wanted it, anyways. I didn’t want people to tame me.  I only wanted my mum and dad.  I was forever waiting for the two of you to find your way back to being my mum and dad, no matter how impossible that was.” Remus had to clear his throat, but he pushed on. “Because I was just a kid and I can’t help being your son and… Who doesn’t want to be loved by their parents?” 

Lyall stared at his son, speechless with tears. 

Remus took a deep breath.  Then he said, quite calmly, “But it’s all right now.  Mum, Dad, you can let go of all the weight you’ve been carrying because of me.  Thank you, but you really can just… let it all go.  I’m fine now, I promise.” 

Hope, too, had tears streaking down her face.  But she managed to hold herself together because she felt the wisdom of her son’s words, and she realized that they could only have come about because he had found that simple love that he was speaking of somewhere else, and she guessed that it was with you.  She smiled proudly at her son through her tears.  “You’re right, Remus.  Everything you said – you’re right.”

“Thanks, Mum,” Remus said warmly. “Dad?”

Lyall shook his head fiercely, and then he turned away.  “I can’t… I can’t right now.”

“Your father’s all right,” Hope assured Remus.  “We’re just very, very happy that you came to see us, that’s all.  Isn’t that right, Lyall?”

In a voice thick with tears, Lyall managed to murmur out, “Yes.  Of course, I - Yes, that’s right.”

Remus stared at his father’s back a beat longer.  Hope touched his face gently, and he looked down at her.  “Thank you, my son,” she said softly.  “You’ve grown up so well.”

“I’ll be off now,” Remus said quietly, and in that moment, mother and son sounded so alike.  “I’ll keep in touch.”  He began to turn away, but he looked over his shoulder at his father one more time.  Lyall’s shoulders were heaving as his heart shattered completely over the grief at realizing the time he’d lost with his son, but also the pride at seeing his son grow up so well anyways. 

Hope smiled at Remus, letting him know that it would be okay.  Remus nodded once, and then he left the house, softly shutting the door behind him.  He took a moment to compose himself, staring out at the moors.  Two birds cawed as they flew high in the sky overhead, circling each other.  This earthly sky isn’t as infinite as the mythical sky.  It’s closer, it lets me breathe, it makes me feel human.  Yes, human… That’s what I am.  That’s what I’ve always been, even if I spent all my life fighting the wolf within.  My parents, too – they’re only human.  I see that now.  Finally.  Remus closed his eyes, and then – with a crack! – he Apparated, heading back to Grimmauld Place, to you.

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

You were sitting in your bedroom, reading a book on immortal elixirs, when Sirius came into the room.  Surprised by his abrupt entry, you jolted to your feet and slammed the book shut.

Sirius stopped short. “Er, sorry, I didn’t realize you were carrying out a crime. If I’d known, I would have provided you the courtesy of knocking.”

“I’m not doing anything criminal, for Merlin’s sake,” you said, immediately peeved by his tone.  “You surprised me, is all.”

“Well, I was trying to do you a favor,” Sirius replied, not the least bit apologetic, “and let you know that Remus is back.”

“He’s back?”  Not even waiting for an answer, you rushed out of the room and all but galloped down the stairs.

Sirius grumbled to himself, “Why bother asking if you won’t hear the answer?”

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

You raced to the front door.  “Remus!  Welcome home!”

Remus caught you in his arms.  “Hello, Lovely.”

“I heard you went to see your parents.  Are you all right?”

“Yes, I’m fine.”

“You should have let me go with you,” you started to say, “so I could apologize for – for - ”  You stopped and you cocked your head curiously at Remus.  Is it just me, or is there…?  You glanced over Remus, with your eyes dancing across his hair, his face, his shoulders… “Did you go to the mythical realm?”

Remus’ eyebrows rose.  “How did you know that?”

There’s light dancing around you, all bright and silver.  I know that light – it’s the light of a full moon.  You used to have it, deep in your eyes, when you were with me right before the full moon.  I used to wonder about it often.  Besides that, you were gone so early in the morning, and although Sirius said you went to your parents’, clearly, you hadn’t yet, because your father came here to find you.   Not quite able to explain all this, you simply said, “You’ve got that energy about you.  But why did you go back there?  Oh!  Did you see Art?”

“Yes, I did.  Art looked well.”

“Oh, good.  And your wolf?”

“My wolf…”  Remus let out a sigh, but there was a faint smile on his face.  “Well, he’s a bit fed up with me, but I reckon that’s as it should be.”

You stared up at Remus, wondering what he meant by that.

“However, one thing was quite clear,” Remus said.

“What’s that?”

Remus slid his hand onto your face and gently ran his thumb across your lips.  “He’s obviously quite in love with his fox.”  He leaned in then, and he kissed you.

Your heart fluttering madly, you leapt onto tip-toe to meet Remus.  Remus chuckled a little when he saw how eagerly you were responding to him.  But you had no time or mind to laugh; you were far too busy kissing him back.  Without realizing it, you pushed him up against the wall, all the meanwhile grasping the front of his shirt in your hands.  Remus put his arm around your waist to steady you, and he drew you in tightly to him. 

Ah, you thought joyfully, he kisses so very sweetly, my Remus.  Yes, my dear, dear Remus… You breathed out softly for a moment before you grasped at his lips with yours again.  After a brief moment, your lips slotted together perfectly, making both of you melt for each other.  It reminds me of that time when we were in the library, against that sunny window, and we took turns kissing each other’s faces, you thought vaguely.  All those kisses, and we couldn’t even admit that we liked each other back then.  But now – “Love you…” you whispered sweetly, against his lips. 

Remus paused. “What?”

“I love you,” you whispered again.  Before Remus could reply, you kissed him again. 

Remus found a way to reply without words - by hugging you tightly and kissing his way down to your neck.  Holding you so tightly that you couldn’t budge, except to let your head fall back a little to let Remus have your neck, Remus kissed your neck all over.

“Ah…” you breathed out.

“Mm,” Remus groaned softly, as he sucked at your throat.  “You get so soft for me, don’t you?”

“Y-Yes, always… for you…” you murmured, and then you moaned again as Remus bit softly at your neck.   Your hands, bunched up at your chest, squeezed into tight fists, as you felt Remus’ mouth softly mark your neck up all over.

“Good girl,” Remus breathed out.  Your breath hitched in response to such sweet praise.

Unfortunately, at that moment, a most unwelcome voice rang out, dripping with arrogance,  “Well, well. Look what we have here.”

Your eyes flew open, and Remus straightened up.

Sirius was coming down the staircase, and he had spotted you two.  He smirked at both of you. 

Immediately, Remus said, “Shut it, Pads.”

Sirius lifted his eyebrow and remarked casually, “Careful, Remus, or you’ll turn into a vampire next.”

Realizing there must be many marks on your neck, you blushed.  Remus wrapped his cloak around you, buttoning it up so that it hid the marks on your neck from Sirius’ view. 

Sirius wagged his finger.  “You absolute heathens.  James would’ve had a thing or two to say to you shameless people.”

Remus, trying his damnedest to keep his irritation at bay, said shortly nonetheless, “Will you please get out of here, Sirius?”

“It’s my house, Moony,” Sirius reminded him.  Still, plenty satisfied with himself and the chaos he’d caused, Sirius shot you both a cheerful grin as he loped past the two of you.

Once Sirius was out of earshot, you asked Remus, a bit embarrassed, “Are we?”

“Are we what?”

“Shameless?”

“I wouldn’t take it to heart, Lovely,” Remus assured you.  With a wry smile, he added, “Considering how much Sirius used to prance around shirtless in the Gryffindor common room, I doubt Sirius even knows what shame is.”

You broke into a laugh at this. “I suppose that’s why he had to bring James into the picture, huh?”

“Exactly,” Remus said, chuckling.  “Dear old Prongs.  He liked you a lot, you know, Lovely.  He said he found you adorable because there you were, thinking I didn’t want you the way you wanted me, when I was dying to have you.”

“Were you now?” you said, lifting your eyebrow at him.  “Dying to have me?  That’s quite the statement.”

“Oh, I know, and I meant every bit of it.” Remus said this so calmly that it came off as quite suave.  As he spoke, he gazed down at you with warm eyes. 

You paused, taken aback by how clear and light his eyes were.  He’s always had such beautiful, hazel eyes.  Only they were always obscured by the melancholy in his soul, and blinded by that bright silver forever lying in wait to devour him.  But now, his gaze is so clear.  It’s like I can really… see him.

“Oh…” you breathed out, suddenly feeling quite hot and bothered.  Grasping his hand, you whispered urgently, “Remus, come with me.”

“What?” Remus said.

You explained hurriedly, “I am feeling shameless, after all.”  Without further ado, you pulled him up the stairs and straight into your bedroom. 

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

You hastily shut the door behind Remus.  You got through the most important locking and Silencing spells before your impatience won over, at which point you whirled around.  Remus was there, waiting to tenderly kiss you.  You gratefully sank into the kiss, but you also took the opportunity to rather directly plonk him down onto the edge of the bed.  Then, your hands got quite busy, unbuckling Remus’ belt.

Remus tried to help by gently brushing back your hair.  But before he could do the gentleman-like thing and hold it in a ponytail for you, your hair slipped right out of his hand, as you leaned down slightly to enthusiastically unzip the front of his trousers. 

Blushing slightly, Remus asked you, “Lovely, erm, what’s the rush?”

“The same rush I’m always feeling – I want you.”  You managed to yank his belt through the loops and then tossed it to the side.

“Yes, but I – That’s my belt.”

“Yes?  Oh, did you want to keep it on?  Or did you want me to wear it, and you hold onto the other edge?’ “What? No.”

“Oh.”  You suddenly stopped.  Sitting back onto your knees, you cocked your head up at him.  “Then, what’s the matter?  Do you not want to make love right now?”

“No, I – I do, I certainly do,” Remus said, rather sheepishly.

“Well, then…” You slid one hand onto his thigh, and with the other, you finished unzipping his pants, reached into his briefs, and wrapped your hand warmly around his cock.

“Oh, fuck,” Remus breathed out harshly.

“I’ve barely touched you, Rem,” you whispered softly, looking up at him.  "You can't curse like that already." Meanwhile, your hand was already going up and down, pleasuring Remus’ cock. 

Remus groaned lowly. “Lovely, you don’t seem to understand…”

“Understand what?” you asked, while you tightened your hand into a fist and roughly palmed the tip of his cock before sliding your hand all the way down his length again.

Remus shook his head furiously at you, but all he managed to whimper out with an incoherent, “…Don’t u-understand at all…”  He huffed suddenly, as you sat up on your knees and then, using your hand on his thigh to steady yourself, your sweet, warm mouth followed your hand, so that suddenly, half his cock was crammed into your mouth, while the other half was surrounded entirely by your warm grip.

“Uhn…!” Remus leaned back onto his hands, and his head fell back a little as he let out a low, soft, but quite deep groan. 

You didn’t even give Remus a moment to gather himself, as you were entirely focused on taking him as much as you could.  You did your utmost to use your mouth and your hands as well as you could to please him, and in fact, it made you feel quite ecstatic to do so.  A little part of your mind giggled gleefully as you made Remus pant, huff, and groan while you worked your mouth all over his cock, going up and down, as far down as you could take him each time.  Your hands were equally busy, fisting the base of his cock tightly. 

As you carried on with this fine bit of multi-tasking, Remus was slowly but surely losing his mind.  After one particularly eager shove of your head downwards, so that his cock almost slipped into your throat, Remus nearly folded over onto you, with his breath coming out in hard, heavy pants.  Gripping your hair (and not in an neat ponytail, either), but in some messy scramble, he cursed out hotly, “Fuck!”

Your heart glowed with pride when you heard Remus say such a filthy word.  Yes, you thought, purring in your mind.  I wanna hear you moan and whimper and swear for me, Remus.  I wanna make you feel good, and I wanna hear exactly how good it feels to you.  Tell me, my love, please.   

Remus abruptly grabbed your face.   With his hands trembling around your cheeks, he forced you to look up at him.  “That’s enough,” he breathed out.  “Let’s switch.”

“No, not so fast,” you disagreed, in a calm, melodious voice.  “I want more of you, Remus.”  You ran your hands up and down his thighs warmly, and you sat up a little on your knees, as you begged, “Please?”

“What, you want to – to continue giving me your mouth?” Remus said, confused.  “I thought you’d rather have me inside of you.”

“Nine times out of ten, I’d say that’s correct,” you agreed.  “But today’s the one out of ten, and I want you – no, I need you in my mouth. And maybe, just maybe, if I work hard enough, you might reward me by cumming in my mouth? What do you say, Remus?”

Remus’ mouth fell open.  "Uh, uh..."

“Won’t you please consider it?” you asked, all the while running your hands feverishly all over his thighs, hips, and abs. 

“You – You want that?” Remus said hoarsely, not quite believing it. 

“Oh, yes,” you assured him.  “What I want... is for you to fill up my throat, Remus.  Take my mouth as much as you please, as long as you want, as deep as you can.  And, for Merlin's sake, please, please, please cum in my mouth.  I swear I want it, and if you’ll let me, if it'll help, I’ll beg for it - ”

“No!” Remus said, almost shouting.  “No begging, Lovely, please.”  In his mind, he thought frantically, I can’t have you begging.  If you beg, I’ll lose myself for want of giving everything you desire.  And what if you say something silly in the heat of the moment, but I give into it?  Because we both know that I wouldn’t cum in just your mouth.  I would – I would –

You were sitting up on your knees, and now, you swayed your hips lightly from side to side, as you kept your eyes on Remus.  When you saw Remus blink hard and swallow even harder, you guessed what might be on his mind.  So, you whispered to him, “If you’re thinking about where else you might want to cum for me, I’d say that’s a wonderful idea.  I’m happy to beg for that, too, if that makes it any easier.”   

Remus shook his head furiously at you.  You started to reach up, to take his face into your hands so you could kiss him, but Remus grasped your wrists in his, stopping you. He asked you seriously, “Are we quite sure that Nine-Tailed Fox has left you once and for all?"

You blinked in surprise.  “What?  Why are you asking that?”

“Because why else would you - ? I mean, why are you taunting me like this?” Remus said, and suddenly he was the one nearly begging.  “Humiliating me, playing with my desires?  What is this, if not some little game for some mean-spirited Fox?”

“What?” you said again, although this time much more indignantly.  “The Fox isn't mean-spirited. Well, never mind, that's not the point, is it? Remus, I’m not humiliating you in any way. I’m merely telling you what I want, and I'm only saying that if you want it too, then you should tell me.”

“But it’s the way you’re saying everything - ” Overwhelmed, Remus let out a huff, and then, he squeezed your wrists tightly while shaking his head at you.

You tried to soothe him.  “If it’s all too much, let me start with sucking you off, then.  You can let me do that, at least.  Right?”

With a groan, Remus let go of you, flopped back on the bed, and threw his arm over his face.  As he did, he groaned out, “Merlin help me…”

You grinned, knowing that he’d given you consent.  You sighed happily, as you settled yourself back down into the perfect position to mouth-fuck Remus’ cock.  You tucked your hair neatly behind your ears. Then, hovering over him a little by getting up onto your knees, you wrapped your mouth around his cock again and, with a loud, muffled, “Mmpfh!”, you pushed your head down as far as you could.

“Fuck!  F-Fuck – Shit!” Remus swore loudly, and his hands flew to the sheets on either side of him.  He gripped at them tightly, and, without meaning to, he thrust his hips up into the air, desperately seeking out that sweet, sweet mouth of yours.

You gasped, as you felt his cock suddenly shove down your throat.  You squeezed your eyes shut, and you hurriedly relaxed your throat.  But once you felt Remus’ cock push into your throat, you found the sensation entirely satisfying.  Oh yes, you thought, surprised at yourself.  I was worried I wouldn't be able to take it, that it would be too much, but no, it feels so good, to be so full of Remus and to be so good for Remus.  Yes, yes, yes…!

Remus thrust his hips wildly into the air again.  You stilled, focusing on relaxing your throat as much as you could for him.  After only a few thrusts, Remus clearly wanted more, for he buried his hands into your hair, grasping your head.  Holding you like that, he started to rut his cock into your mouth repeatedly, fucking your sweet, warm, pretty mouth over and over again.  You put your hands on his hips and held yourself in place, too, and, shutting your eyes, you focused on simply taking Remus.  Wet, slightly muffled sounds of you taking his cock in your mouth sounded out in the room, and all the while, you were shivering all over with the pride and pleasure in being able to take your man like this. 

After a couple of rough, fervent minutes, Remus’ face was shimmering with sweat, and his abs were quite cut on his slim figure, for even without intending to, he had worked quite hard to take your sweet mouth as his.    

Finally, though, a particularly garbled moan spilled from your lips, waking Remus up. At that moment, Remus abruptly recognized what he was doing, and he became incredibly flustered.  He instantly sat up and smoothed your hair back for you. Then, he pulled you up just enough to cover your face with the sweetest, gentlest kisses.  Meanwhile, his hands fluttered all around your shoulders, trying to soothe you and make sure you were all right.  “Oh Godric, Lovely, I’m – I’m so sorry,” he blurted out, between heavy breaths.  “I was – Shit, I’m sorry - I got carried away, didn't I?”

You laughed brightly, as you reassured him, “What do you mean? Remus, I’m perfectly fine!”

“No, how could I have - ? What was I thinking?  I shouldn’t have – I didn’t mean to hold you like that.”  Blushing profusely, Remus dropped his head against your shoulder.  “I’m so sorry.  You simply felt so good and I hardly realized the position I’d put you in.”

“You didn’t put me in any position I didn’t want,” you said, smiling at him.  “It was my suggestion, and I loved it.”  You lifted your shoulder, forcing Remus to lift his head and look at you.  You held his gaze, as you told him, in no uncertain terms, “I loved it.”

Remus was silent for a moment, and you took a moment to admire how crimson his face was.  But then, Remus said, in almost a hopeful voice, “So is it my turn now?  To taste you?”

You grinned as you happily shook your head at him.

Remus groaned desperately. At the same time, he fell back over onto the bed and covered his face with his hands.  “Lovely, please,” he bleated out into his hands, “I can’t just sit here and do nothing and – and take all this.”

“You have to,” you insisted. 

“But I can’t - Lovely, this – You’re punishing me,” Remus protested feebly. 

“No, I’m not,” you replied.  “What is it you said to me?  Oh right, this is me loving you.  So, you have to take it, dearest.”  Then, immediately, glomp went your sweet, sinful little mouth, right back onto his cock, and you wasted no time in deep-throating his cock again.   

Remus gasped, and his entire body trembled.  Taking that as a good sign, you got up onto your knees once more, fisted the sheets on either side of Remus, and then you sucked his cock until your cheeks went hollow and you were almost entirely out of breath.  Mmmm…! you moaned tightly in your mind, and in fact, though you didn’t quite realize it, you were purring as you sucked Remus’ cock like that, and Remus felt a warm, vibrating hum all around his cock from you. 

“F-Fuck!” Remus spat out, gritting his teeth and with his stomach going all tight.  “Love – Lovely – nngh!”

Yes, that’s it, c’mon, give it to me,  you urged in your mind.  Cum in my mouth, on my face, on my breasts – Oh Gods, please cum for me, Remus, please.  If you can’t cum in my pussy, at least give me this.  I want it so, so much.  I need this.  I need you! 

“Uhhhnn…!” A hard, rough growl ripped from Remus’ throat.  He abruptly stood up and then, quicker than in a blink of an eye, he switched sides with you, so that you suddenly had your back pressed up against the bed while Remus was standing in front of you.  With your head now supported by the bed, Remus reached down, grabbed you gently by the throat, and fucked his cock into your mouth hard. 

Your eyes flew open, as you realized that Remus had found an even better position to have you in.  You eagerly grabbed onto Remus’ thighs, pulling yourself close to him.  “Mm – mmphf!  Ah – mmm, mm, mmmm!” A series of low, muffled moans escaped you, as you sat there on the floor, caught between the bed and Remus, and you did your best to take Remus.  All the while, you were completely savoring the fact that you got to see Remus like this – growling so fiercely, his hand wrapped lovingly around your throat, his cock deep in your throat, and his abs and hips glistening slightly with sweat as he thrust heavily into your mouth.  I know he would never let me, but I could worship him, you thought at that moment.  And that thought made you melt and shiver all over.  In fact, you found yourself getting quite wet, even though you were the one giving now, because having Remus like this – still so sweet and encouraging, but also fiercely driven by his lust for you and needing to chase that pleasure with you, through you, just as you always wanted him to – it turned you on so very much.  You reckoned that if Remus were to pull you up and flip you over right now, he’d find himself a very, very wet and willing pussy to fuck.  But no, not today – I’m not gonna let him get that far today, you promised yourself. 

Sure enough, with a final, messy thrust, Remus suddenly slumped forward.  His hands slipped out of your hair and onto the mattress.  His shoulders shook as he forced himself to stay upright, so as not to fall on top of you.   

Ah, now! you recognized.  Hugging his thighs, you dragged yourself up off of the floor just enough to stay with him.  Cum now, you begged him in your mind.  Cum right in my mouth, baby. 

“Uhn…!” Remus moaned.  Then, he let out the tiniest whimper of “L-Lovely” before he found that he couldn’t resist anymore.  With a low, heavy groan that filled the entire room, Remus gave in and released, spilling all of his cum into your waiting, wanting mouth.

Mmmmm, yes! you thought happily, as you felt Remus’ hot cum spurt into your mouth.  You swallowed everything he gave you, and reaching down, you pressed your hands over your tummy, feeling so happy that Remus had cum for you like this.

Remus, entirely overwhelmed by what had just happened, fell over onto the bed immediately after he’d finished, face-planting right into the sheets.  Quite overstimulated, he huffed heavily into the sheets. 

You slid up onto the bed beside him.  “Remus?” you whispered.

Remus cracked open one eye at you.  He watched as you neatly pushed your hair back and then you smiled at him, quite proud of yourself and quite pleased at how Remus had finally been able to let go a little and truly give into his desires with you.

What a polite smile for someone who nearly just killed me, Remus thought wryly.

Lying down beside him so that you could see his expression, you asked nicely, “How was that?”

Remus moaned loudly and put his arm over his face.

“That’s not a proper answer,” you told him. 

Remus only moaned again, sounding ever so defeated. 

You gently lifted his arm and pushed your head in between his arm and the mattress so that you could see his face.  You noticed, with a giggle, “Oh, you’re awfully pink, Rem.”

Remus let out an even softer, more pathetic, borderline whiny moan, and he rolled over and promptly stuck his head under the pillow, escaping your gaze yet again.

You put your hand over your mouth for a moment to laugh silently to yourself, before you lifted the pillow and stuck your head under it, joining Remus in his humble sanctuary.  “Hi,” you said brightly.  “Nice space you’ve got here.”

Remus blinked at you.  His face was still quite flushed, shining a bright pink all over, save for the several silver scars crisscrossing everywhere.  But he finally managed to speak, only all he could get out was, “My God, Lovely…”

“Yes?” you said softly.

But all Remus did was repeat, “My God, Lovely.”

You managed to slip your hand up between the bed and pillow and you tenderly pushed back Remus’ curl from his forehead.  As you did, you pondered, “Are these good exclamations or are you calling on God to smite me for my heathen ways?”

In a hoarse voice, Remus asked you, “Whatever possessed you to do that to me?”

You paused.  Then, you asked once more, “Do you mean ‘possession’ in a good way or…?”

Remus sighed.  Now that he was breathing normally again, his personality also seemed to find him again.  He said, a bit dryly, “I think you got your answer to that when I – er – when I finished the way you asked me to.”

You giggled at this.  A bit devilishly, you remarked, “Oh, it was fun, wasn’t it?”

Remus groaned and, tossing the pillow off of both of your heads, he turned around and pushed his face straight into the mattress. 

You couldn’t help it anymore.  You burst into laughter, finding it adorable how floppy Remus had become, as if he would never recover from the simple act of you giving him a blowjob. 

You let Remus have his moment of sulking.  Then, you pounced on him, turning him over on the mattress and making him look at you.  You leaned down and placed a sweet, short kiss on his lips.  “Thanks, Remus,” you said earnestly.  “I had a very good time, thanks to you.”

Remus grimaced at you, but when you burst into laughter again, he watched you getting all pink-cheeked with delight and he couldn’t help but reach up and stroke your cheek.  That little, soft moment showed all too plainly that Remus was entirely fond of you and found you to be an irresistible heart-stealer.

But Remus did warn you, in a soft and lulling voice, “Lovely, next time – well, next time, you had best watch yourself, as I have every mind to repay this little favor from today.”

Your eyes sparkled merrily and you bit your lower lip, already in anticipation of it, but all you did was grin at him and reply slyly, “Mm, maybe, but not if I get there first.”

Remus pulled you down onto the bed, then.  You had hardly let out a gasp, when you found yourself already all tucked away in his arms.  Hugging you tightly, Remus murmured, “So, it’s not the Fox for you, either.  It’s you that likes to have your way with me – making up your own games for me and playing me for a fool.  What do I do with you?”

“Is it bad that we have fun?” you asked, looking up at him with a bright and rather innocent gaze. 

Remus replied,  “No, but I rather think Sirius was right about us being shameless.”

“But we won’t tell him,” you said earnestly.

Remus looked down at you. With a soft smile appearing on his face, he agreed, “No, we won’t tell him.”  He nuzzled his nose against yours as he whispered, “Or rather, I won’t tell him how shameless you are, Lovely.  Really, now, having your way with me like that – what did you mean by it?  Hm?”

A/N: The events attributed to each year are different in this story than in canon. As you can see in this chapter, I've mashed together parts of Harry's first and third years.

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

Tomorrow was the day of Gryffindor Quidditch team try-outs.  It was late evening, and you were sitting with Oliver in a quiet corner of the Gryffindor common room.  He was poring over different lists, each of which were apparently a potential roster for this year’s team.

“Oliver, you don’t even know who’s signed up yet,” you pointed out.

“No,” he agreed. “But I reckon I’ve got some decent guesses.  See, I’ve kept the records for try-outs for every year and I’ve spoken to each of the top contenders since we came back to school and I made them all promise they’d come to try-outs and then I talked with each of their friends on the side to make sure that they meant it and that they haven’t got plans to, I dunno, join the choir or Gobstones club instead.  So, yeah, it might not be perfect, but I think I’ve managed to get a pretty good sense of who’s trying out this year.”

You stared at him. Oliver didn’t notice, however, as he furiously crossed out a name on one list, only to add it to another.  You wondered whether you should let him know that his information-gathering tactics bordered on stalking, but you decided to let it go.  Instead, you asked politely, “Well, is there anything I can help with?”

“No,” Oliver said at once. “Just you being there will be enough.”

“Okay,” you said softly.

But then, you saw Oliver’s head pop up.  A stream of sunset light came in through the high window and caught Oliver’s light brown hair.  You reached out and stroked his hair softly.  Oliver turned to you, and he murmured, “Well, um, perhaps there is something you might be able to do…”

“Sure. What is it?”

“Well…” Oliver paused to kiss your wrist, before he suggested, in a pleading, soft voice, “Perhaps you could… man the sign-up table?”

You almost laughed, for he was presenting you with this trivial suggestion in such a serious manner, as if he was asking you for the greatest favor in the world.  However, right after you said easily, “Yes, sure,” you suddenly realized that Oliver actually took the sign-up table quite seriously.  For all at once, he was very, very close to you, pinning you down against the arm of the chair.  He held your hands tightly in his and stared at you very solemnly indeed, as he murmured, “Promise me you won’t let that sign-up sheet out of your sight.”

“Uh… Uh… Yes, I promise,” you managed to say.

“Watch over it like a hawk and don’t let anyone skip slots or change the order.”

“I – I would never,” you said, finding yourself replying in the same serious manner, even though you had no idea why this was such a big deal to Oliver.

Oliver’s eyes softened and he bent his head down to give you a little kiss on the forehead before he let you go.  

“Right, that’s settled then!” he said, reverting back to his normal voice instantly. “Now, where’s that list I was just working on?”

You blinked, wondering what in the world had just happened.  But as you sat there on the couch, still lying back against the arm, and you watched Oliver busy himself with all sorts of plans, you found yourself content with your own curiosity. Because you didn’t need to understand anything to watch over and encourage Oliver, and that was all it took for you to feel quite happy.   

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

It was the day of Gryffindor Quidditch team try-outs. 

Charlotte, Alexander, and Corina agreed to help you set up the sign-up table and sheets, while Oliver set up the Quidditch pitch and materials (balls, hoops, gear, and bats). 

At eight o’clock, Oliver was already down at the pitch, bursting with energy, while you had to wrangle Charlotte and Alexander out of bed.  Fortunately, Corina was a morning person, so she was waiting outside of the Gryffindor entrance by eight.  You let out a sigh of relief and thanked her.  Thank goodness Corina’s on time.  I didn’t fancy having to go all the way to the Hufflepuff common room to wake her up. 

You all trooped down, carrying an unwieldly folded-up table.   Alex muttered grumpily, “If try-outs are at ten, I don’t understand why we’ve got to be down here at eight.”

“Shush,” you told him, “Oliver’s been up since five.  Don’t ruin this for him.”

“Ow,” was Alex’s resounding reply, as the edge of the table banged against his shins.

“Hold it up higher,” Charlotte said, a bit impatiently.

“I’m trying,” Alex griped.

Corina (again, the only morning person) smiled nervously at you all.  She followed the rest of you out of the castle, while clutching a few sheets of parchment and ink for the sign-up sheets.

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

The four of you made it down to the entrance of the Quidditch pitch.  Charlotte and Alex began to unfold the table.  While watching them set up, you spotted a dementor drifting along the edge of the Black Lake. You shivered.  I know Dumbledore said the dementors are meant to protect us from Sirius Black, but I really don’t like how they always hang around the castle. They give me the spooks, and I swear that whenever they get too close, the wind gets colder and it’s as if a stone has dropped in my stomach… 

However, your attention was averted, for Oliver, who had seen the four of you coming down the grounds towards the pitch, came out of the entrance of the quidditch pitch.  You walked over to meet him halfway.      

“G’morning,” you greeted him.

“Hi.”  Oliver gestured at you, and mumbled, “Your…”

“Hm?”

Oliver reached over and gently brushed a stray strand of hair away from your lips.  As he did so, you felt his hand brush across your cheek, and you felt a wonderful warmth pass from him to you.  Oh…

Oliver’s brow furrowed, as he misunderstood you shivering at his touch as you shivering from the cold.  To your surprise, you suddenly found yourself all bundled up in Oliver’s Quidditch warm-up jacket.   “Oliver?  Um, I didn’t say anything about a jacket…”

“Yeah, but just in case.  He firmly zipped up the front for you.  “You look a bit peaky.” 

You smiled, and your eyes crinkled a little.  He’s so cute, honestly. 

“Um, what?” Oliver wondered, a bit uncomfortable with how you were admiring him.

“Nothing,” you said softly.  “Just… thank you.”

Oliver blushed, and he looked away from you.  “All right,” he said, a bit unsteadily, “I’ve got to finish setting up the loan broomsticks.  I’ll be back later.”  He jogged back to the pitch.  Meanwhile, you returned to your friends, who had finished setting up the table. 

Seeing you coming, Corina mentioned, “Oh, before I forget to tell you, I have to leave by ten.  I promised to have breakfast with a friend of mine – um, a close friend of mine, and I don’t want to be late.”

Alex looked over at her.  “Wait.  You have friends other than us?”

Charlotte sighed and dug her elbow into his side.   

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Alex clarified.  “It’s just that I thought we were your best friends, but the way you said you were having lunch with a ‘close friend’, it’s like you’re…” A light bulb lit up in his head.  “Say, who’s this ‘close’ friend anyway, huh?”

A light blush appeared on Corina’s face.  “Um, Peter Jones.”

Alex looked over at you and Charlotte. “Peter Jones?  Do we know a Peter Jones?”

Thoughtfully, you said, “The name seems familiar.  Isn’t he a Hufflepuff?”

Corinna nodded.  “Yes, he’s in Hufflepuff with me, and he’s the same year as us.”

“Yeah, but I feel like I know him from something particular,” Charlotte murmured, wrinkling her nose as she tried to recall where she’d heard his name. 

Corinna tried to be helpful, suggesting, “Well, he sits only two rows back from you in Charm - ”

Only, Charlotte suddenly punched her hand in the air and cried out, “Oh, I know where I saw that name!  Peter Jones, yeah – isn’t he the kid who hasn’t been able to find his cauldron for six years?”

Corina sputtered, “Wh – What?”

You instantly knew what Charlotte was talking about.  There was a “Lost and Found” notice, pinned up on the Gryffindor bulletin board for six years now, asking if anyone had found a lost cauldron that was “sort of dented on the top and burned on the bottom.”  Peter had put it up as a first-year, and then he had never been taken down, whether because he forgot about it altogether or was still looking for it, no one knew.  You burst out laughing.  Meanwhile, Alex wondered aloud, “How in the world do you lose a cauldron?  Even for a first year – no, especially for a first year.  The cauldron’s half your size when you’re a first year.”

Corina’s face was bright pink by now. “Um, well…” she murmured vaguely.

Just then, an annoyed voice snapped, “Oi, less laughing over there!  Can’t you sense the mood?”

You turned around to see a rather well-built blonde boy, whom you recognized as Cormac McLaggen, scowling at all of you.

“What mood?” Alex said briskly. “It’s just you out here.”

“Yeah, but I’m taking this very seriously,” Cormac said.  “So the mood is serious and you lot are distracting me with your ugly laughing.”

“Ugly laughing?” Charlotte said, offended.

“Yeah, he sounds like a crow, cawk, cawk, cawkkk, and you sound like a hag, going hur, hur, hurrr. ” Cormac rudely pointed the end of his broomstick at her.

Charlotte’s eyes flashed, and you knew Cormac was in for it.  Oh shit, you thought, and you hastily whispered to Charlotte, “Just let it go.  He’ll be headed to the pitch soon enough, anyways.”

Charlotte ignored you and decided to have her way with Cormac.  Feigning cold disinterest, she said, “And who are you, little boy?”

“What? I’ve been in your House for five years, you numpty.  And my uncle’s Tiberius McLaggen.”  Cormac puffed out his chest impressively.

Charlotte lifted her eyebrow and dealt her blow, saying coolly, “Well, is that name supposed to mean something to me?”

“What!?” Cormac looked like he was about to burst. “You don’t know Tiberius McLaggen?”

“No,” Charlotte replied, now examining her fingernails. “And even if it did, it does nothing in telling me who you are, little boy.”

“Stop calling me ‘little boy’!” Cormac said angrily. “I’m only a year younger than you.”

You stepped in before the argument got out of hand. “All right!  We’re only teasing you, Cormac.  Now, come sign up.”  You held up the paper and quill. 

Cormac, still scowling, came over.  With rather grandiose handwriting, he signed his name on the list so that it took up two spots.  Charlotte let out an understated scoff, just loud enough that Cormac would hear it.  Predictably, Cormac exploded. “What? What is it with you, huh?”

“Me? Look at you, you numpty.” Charlotte jabbed her finger at the list.  “Who signs their name like that?  You took up two spaces by yourself!”

Cormac stepped towards Charlotte and said hotly, “So what? Can’t I?”

“Stop it!” Stepping between them, you held out your hands to stop them from getting any closer to each other. “Cormac, try-outs are going to start any minute.  You should go warm up.”

With a harrumph, Cormac slung his broomstick over his shoulder and went off.

“That little twerp,” Charlotte muttered. “Been pissing me off for five years, with my uncle this and my uncle that.”

“That was low, to pretend like you didn’t recognize him,” Corina said, watching Cormac go. 

“Yes,” Alex chuckled, “you know how much that poor boy survives on his ego.”

Charlotte snorted. “I’ll greet him like a normal human being when he stops parading about like he owns the place and if he ever stops mentioning his godforsaken uncle – which, as we both know, will be never.”

“You are in rare form,” you said to Charlotte, sighing a little.   

“You didn’t have to break us up,” Charlotte told you.  “I could take him.”

“I know you could,” you agreed. “That’s why I stopped it.  I didn’t want to see you clobbering him right before Quidditch try-outs.”

At that moment, Angelina, Alicia, and Katie walked up to the table.  “Good morning,” Angelina said. “Manning the sign-up table, I see.”

“Hi Angelina. And yes, I am.” You gestured at the sheet in front of you. “Please sign up here.”

As they took turns adding their names to the list, Alicia said, “Last year, Oliver was trying to run sign-ups and try-outs at the same time.  He wore himself out within the first hour and by the time he told us the results, he could only say the names aloud in wheezes.”

“But he wouldn’t let us help,” Katie recalled. “We all offered, but he said he couldn’t trust us.  He was so sure that someone was going to tamper with the sign-up list.”

Alicia rolled her eyes.  “Yeah, we all told him, ‘Oliver, no one cares about the Gryffindor try-out order enough to tamper with it,’ but he wouldn’t believe us. Apparently, there’s some optimal time and order to try-out or something.  Some scientifically proven time where all of your Quidditch skills magically elevate to the infinite degree.”

You realized, ah, so that’s why he was so serious about my keeping a watch on the list.

As the three of them finished signed up, you told them, “Good luck.  Oh, and Cormac’s warming up over behind that tree, in case you wanted to, you know - ”

“Steer clear?” Angelina said knowingly, her eyes flashing with amusement.  “Got it.  Thanks for the warning.”

As the three of them walked away, you heard Katie say, “If McLaggen makes it onto the team this year, I’m going to resign in protest.”

“Yeah, but he almost made it last year,” Alicia said. “Shame’s the jerk’s actually pretty good at Quidditch.”

Corina checked her pocket watch.  As she did, she realized, “Wait, you told Cormac that tryouts are starting any minute now, but it’s only nine thirty.   I thought tryouts started at ten.”

“Oh, I mean, thirty minutes is soon, I suppose, um…” You sighed and confessed, “All right, so I just wanted to get him away before Charlotte clobbered him.”

“Clobbered who?”

You turned to see Oliver approaching you.   

“Oh, no one,” you said easily. “Quidditch pitch all ready?”

“Yes, ma’am.” 

“Sign-up sheet is all ready, too.” 

Oliver picked up the sheet and scanned it.  At once, his brow furrowed. “This is it? What’s everyone thinking? Thirty minutes isn’t enough time for a proper warm-up.  Hell, even an hour is hardly enough time.  The Weasley twins aren’t on here.  Damn it, I told them to be here early this year.  I tell them every year, they’re going to pull their skinny little leg muscles if they don’t warm up properly.”

Charlotte, Alex, and Corina guffawed at the image of the Weasley twins and their “skinny little legs muscles.”

Oblivious, Oliver continued, “They never do leg sprints seriously, either, even though I’ve told them, I’ve told them, that it takes an overall balanced physique to be a light flyer, which a Beater definitely should be.”

“I’m sure more people will come,” you reassured him. “And we can’t all have as strong legs as you do.”

“I guess not.” Oliver hesitated, then, as he looked you up and down.

Corina and Charlotte traded looks, thinking that Oliver was checking you out – only to hear Oliver then comment, “But you could, you know.  Like I’ve said, you’ve got a good, athletic build.  If you’d only run some sprints with me in the mornings - ”

“Oliver, no,” you insisted. “I’m not trying to be a Quidditch player, remember?” Seeing Oliver’s eyes slowly fall into those sad little puppy eyes, you hastily snatched back the sign-up sheet and held it up between you two, hiding his face from view.  You defended yourself by saying, rather feebly, “Besides, I’m manning the sign-up sheet and I’ve plenty enough leg strength for that!”

“Fine, fine,” Oliver gave in, though with a soft sigh.  “All right, I’ve got to go and warm up myself.  Thanks for your help, and thanks to your friends too.”

“No problem, Captain,” Alex chirped out, and saluted him.

Oliver paused, wondering if Alex was making fun of him or not.  But then, he noticed Alex’s red shirt.  “You’re a Gryffindor?”

“Sure am.”

“You look like you’ve got some strength to you.  Don’t you want to try out?”

Alex shook his head resolutely.  “No can do. I’ve never thought of playing Quidditch, have no thoughts of playing it now, and will never have any thought of playing it, ever.”

“Really?” Oliver said, awestruck.

“Really.”

Oliver looked rather dazed at the thought of Alex genuinely never wanting to play Quidditch.  You put the sign-up sheet back down on the table, placing a rock on top of it to keep the wind from blowing it away.  Then, you firmly grasped Oliver’s arm and drew him away from your friends. “Good luck with try-outs,” you said brightly, stressing your words a little to remind him of where he was.

“Right, yeah, thanks.” 

“I’ll come let you know when more people have signed up.”  You began to lean in to kiss his cheek, only Oliver stepped away first.  You fell back on your feet, and simply smiled at him instead. 

Oliver began to take off, but then he paused.  He had noticed you leaning in, only he’d moved before he’d realized it, as it hadn’t crossed his mind that you’d want to kiss his cheek now.  Only now that he had noticed it, damn it, he wanted that kiss. But had the moment passed?

Shucks, Oliver thought, and he started towards the pitch again, only to think – Well, no.  I don’t want to go without it.  He awkwardly half-side-stepped and half-tripped over himself as he abruptly came back to you.  Grabbing you rather unromantically around your middle, he hurriedly brought you in for a kiss, only to miss your lips and plant a kiss instead on your lower cheek. 

“Sorry, I – the first time – I didn’t realize – anyways, thanks,” he said gruffly, and then, before you could reply, he was gone, racing back towards the Quidditch pitch.  You blinked and swayed slightly in your spot.

Behind you, your friends burst out into laughter.  Charlotte asked, between giggles, “What was that?”

“Hush it, you lot,” you said defensively, pressing your fingers to your cheek where he had kissed you. “It was sweet.”

“The way he grabbed you,” Alex said gleefully. “Yanked you, more like, as if you were some big tuna fish from the sea that had to be hoisted abroad.”

“He did not!” you said, even though you knew full well that he did.  

But then, something happened that distracted you entirely – a large, lithe cat suddenly bounded into view.  You gasped, instantly recognizing the cat. “Bean, get away from the table!”

Unfortunately, it seemed that Bean couldn’t hear you or else was intent on disobeying you.  It wasn’t really Bean’s fault.  After all, Bean was a cat, and the sight of the parchment paper fluttering about, with its edges flickering brightly in the air with the wind, made it a very curious sight for him.