Polarisgreenley - Solution: More Tea - Tumblr Blog

Thank you for the tag 💚💚

I'm a simple human. I see cat picrew. I click.

Give Artemis (Artemeows, mayhaps) some flowers in a dark forest and she'll be happy :)

Tagging: @lyworth @galaxiasgreen @gingerlegacy07 @tusklovercstb

YOU FOOLS, you've fallen right into my trap. You thought this post was just an innocent picrew chain, made out of the kindness of my heart, but NO. For you see dear mutuals, it was all a ploy, a ploy to get you comfortable.

I know this may come to a shock to some of you, but it is true. I have a master plan, the end goal? Turn you all into cats. Then, with my army of kittys, I will... ok actually I haven't gotten that far yet, but trust me we'll do something super evil like knock paper off of desks or something.

Now that you have fallen for my scheme, I present to you one of many cat picrews. For I am not turning the frogs gay, I am turning the queers into cats and no one can stop me.

Picrew

Tags // @piney-45 @fizzello @ellalily @championofapollo @cr0w-covered0n-m0ss @x-ca1iber and anyone else who wants to take part

Structuring Your Fight Scene

adapted from <Writer's Craft> by Rayne Hall

Suspense

Show your characters gearing up, readying themselves.

The pace is slow, the suspense is high (use suspense techniques)

Provide information about terrain, numbers, equipment, weapons, weather.

May have dialogue as the opponents taunt each other, hurl accusations, or make one final effort to avoid the slaughter.

Don't start too early - we don't need to see the hero getting out of bed, taking a shower and having tea.

2. Start

Fighters get into fight stance: knees slightly bent, one leg forward, abdominal muscles tensing, body turned diagonally, weapons at the ready.

Each side will usually try to be the first to strike, as this will give them advantage.

The movements in this section need to be specific and technically correct.

3. Action

This section may be quick or prolonged. If prolonged, no blow-by-blow descriptions are needed.

Focus on the overall direction of the fight

Make use of the location to make characters jump, leap, duck, hide, fall, etc.

Mention sounds of weapons

4. Surprise

Something unexpected happens: building catches fire, a downpour, relief force arrives, staircase collapses, bullet smashes into the only lightbulb and everything goes dark, hero losses his weapon, etc.

Add excitement, raise the stakes.

5. Climax

Both sides are tired and wounded

The hero is close to giving up, but is revived with passion

Move to the terrain's most dangerous spot: narrow swining rope-bridge, a roof-edge, sinking ship, etc.

Don't rush the climax! Hold the tension

6. Aftermath

The fight is over: bes buddies lying dead, bandaging, reverberating pain, etc.

Use sense of sight and smell

The hero may experience nausea, shaking, tearfulness or get sexually horny

Fight scene length

Historical/adventure/fantasy: 700-1000w

Romance: 400-700w

GUYS. DID YOU KNOW YOU CAN WRITE CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE FICS ON AO3

Look at this absolute cutie patootie <3

He deserves as many kisses as he has freckles adorned on those cheeks of his.

Garreth Weasley and All the Smooches He Deserves

This scene in DMATMOBIL has me in a *chokehold* after literal years.

Fave moments in DMATMOBIL by @isthisselfcare: -Hermione evened out the odds with her wifi pucks. -Draco just skewered a man with a wand. -Draco whips out a knife. -Larsen the Viking is about to face the ferally protective Auror Draco Malfoy in a hand to knife combat. Can you tell which part of Draco I spent the most time on? Yeah, I know, I like them veiny leave me alone. 🤭Also, gotta love him in his red Auror robe.

🏀we BALL🏀

Honestly my cheeks, sides and diaphragm have no recovered at how funny this fic is.

Her and the Hoop | Part 1

Solomon x ball ✨🏀

Tags: Solomon x ball, SFW, Solomon is deluded, one single humorous sexual reference, historical inaccuracies, lots of Australian pride, hammed-calves, not a single rule of the game is followed, witches/wizards can now contract tuberculosis

This crack fic was written for a HL discord event. I dedicate it to @morelikeravenbore and @2centniffler who I’ve written in as characters. A/N at bottom

A simple wink in their direction could ignite untold passions raging in their bosoms; as was the case for one such woman, who was fanning herself so forcefully despite the tepid temperatures of the Scottish summer.

The only logical explanation was that being in my presence had brought her to such a heightened state of arousal – an observation proven true by her husband's chagrin, engulfing him in the most violent shade of crimson. Unsurprisingly, the handsome woman collapsed to the ground, her body clearly weakened by such strong forces of lust. 

I was later told it was caused by tuberculosis; to this day I do not believe them. 

Word count: 918 {Wattpad | AO3}

The real reason Solomon Sallow despises his nephew so much, is because. . .

I remember it like it was yesterday.

Mostly women, married and unmarried from all across Scotland had congregated in my humble farming hamlet of Feldcroft. Desperate to witness the spectacle, they pushed against the barricades of the makeshift arena, corsets tight-laced and petticoats hiked up to expose their ankles to me. Perhaps it was to avoid the manure soiling their finest gowns – but I believe it not to be the latter. 

A simple wink in their direction could ignite untold passions raging in their bosoms; as was the case for one such woman, who was fanning herself so forcefully despite the tepid temperatures of the Scottish summer.

The only logical explanation was that being in my presence brought her to such a heightened state of arousal – an observation proven true by her husband's chagrin, engulfing him in the most violent shade of crimson. Unsurprisingly, the handsome woman collapsed to the ground, her body clearly weakened by such strong forces of lust. 

I was later told it was caused by tuberculosis; to this day I do not believe them. 

For a moment, I entertained the fantasies brought on by the overwhelming amount of female attention, being naturally curious to what their soft flesh might feel like when they threw themselves against me – lauding my muscular frame from years of plowing the field; but I digress.

Nothing, and I repeat: nothing, could be comparable to to the feeling of supple leather, cradling the beauty of which was firm and round, inflated with so much love that seeped into my calloused fingertips. The truth – was only she, my orange and spherical lover could fulfill me, and I desired for nothing more. My obsession for the game overshadowed everything, and all that mattered was her and the hoop. 'Wilsona' is what I affectionately named her. 

The sun had shone so brightly that day, it's warm rays bathing me in glinted golds and the promises of glory. It was the game of the century – the final showdown, so to speak. As captain of the Feldcroft Flobberworms, I'd assured our triumph against every opponent we had faced thus far. Today would mark our final and greatest victory in a worldwide basketball tournament, held for only the most talented of witches and wizards in the profession. 

The crowd was vivacious, chanting my name before I'd even begun warming up with my trademark three-quarter shots.

Sol-o-mon! Sol-o-mon! Sol-o-mon!

I couldn't blame them; I had quickly risen to become one of Scotland's most revered basketball players – and arguably, one of the greatest in the world. I pencil-rolled down the court, grasping Wilsona tightly above my head before knocking one– two– then three of my own teammates off their feet. When implemented during a match, my then wobbling teammates would knock down our opponents like bowling balls to pins.

With the other team flailing about for purchase, I'd use my immense strength to swing Wilsona over my head and launch her into the air, having full trust she'd be caught by my ever-dependable teammate, Banshee. Holding the perfect amount of muscle and buoyancy in her tender-hammed calves, she'd use their power to float through the air, slam-dunking my Wilsona into the hoop. 

I expected to be met with raucous applause after graciously displaying a preview of my three-quarter shot, and yet, my ears were assaulted by a name I'd heard only in myths...

Aura. . .

AURA, AURA, AURA! The crowd cheered.

It was the infamous wild woman, captain of the Australian team the Darwin Dugbogs, who'd just arrived at the scene in a chariot drawn by a dozen Milo-drinking Abraxans, evident by the chunky malted drink dried at their muzzles. Rumors of her story had swept through the hamlets like a haze, with some claiming she'd been taken in as an orphaned child by a court of kangaroos and raised as their own. As a man of considerable intelligence and impeccable breeding, I was incredulous to believe such utter hogwash. 

An air of mystery and intrigue surrounded the wild woman, flowing through her lustrous auburn hair she'd adorned with sticks from her homeland. As she approached me, I found no reason to believe such a lovely and diminutive lady was anything to be feared on the court; my reputation was secure. 

'How ya goin'?' She said, her native tongue so exotic and beautiful it could only be compared to a siren song. 

I was utterly speechless, and even more so as she'd managed to ignore my handsomely rugged features in favor of the view above my head. A confident and all-knowing smile tugged at the edges of her delicate lips, as if she already knew exactly how the view from above would appear.

A ball of nerves settled into the pit of my stomach then, but I stood my ground. Defending my territory, I repeatedly dragged one leg back through the dirt while firmly planted on the other, like a bull preparing to charge. 

In my own native tongue, I answered her back.

'Fuck it, we ball.'

AN: The idea for this hastily written crack fic was inspired by the image above, which I scribbled on after noticing it looked as if Solomon was about to slam-dunk a basketball through a hoop. I couldn't have written it without having met some insanely lovely people on a Hogwarts Legacy discord server 🩵✨

📣Hello please go read this it is beauty it is grace 📣

If he could immortalise your beauty and smile, he would build a monument of diamond, or paint a mural in the sky. If he could bottle this moment to eternally relive, he would bathe in the waters of a pensieve and never seek the breath of release. If he could promise everything will be all right, that you’ll find happiness and warmth as long as you have each other, he would offer his hand and wand, and his lips, amidst the song of an Unbreakable Vow, a solemn pledge that he would stay with you forever. All you have to do is let him in.

— Chapter 12, Stay With Me

For the one-year anniversary of my Garreth/ Reader OC fic Stay With Me [AO3, Wattpad] I commissioned the phenomenal @lyworth for these two pieces, featuring Garreth and the Reader, Prim! Thank you so much ❤️📚🍰🐦🔥

Sebastian: I have a crush... on MC.

Garreth: Same.

Sebastian: What?!

Ominis: Get with the times, Sebastian. We all have a crush on MC.

A Bouquet of New Beginnings: Chapter 26 "Peony II"

Summary: After the Scriptorium/2nd trial

Floriography: Life & Death

Full Chapter: [AO3]//6.9k words

Excerpt below:

The last of the leaves barely clung to the tree branches just outside Professor Fig’s office windows.

“Artemis, are you sure that you are alright?”

Artemis nodded. Cotton was sandpaper and the chill resembled a ravenous bite. But these were exaggerations on what was normal; two weeks in the Hospital Wing was enough.  

“Yes, sir. Thank you, for your patience.”

“Don’t thank me, Artemis,” said Professor Fig as his eyebrows furrowed. “Frankly I’d prefer we delay this until the new year, but I’m afraid the Keepers were right. That castle is swarming with Rookwood and Ranrok’s lot, and waiting longer could mean more trouble. Not the friendliest of alliances, but still. Come. Let’s head to the nearest spot to apparate.”

The moment the two of them reached beyond the anti-apparition perimeter, they disillusioned themselves – and she casted a pre-emptive Sensory Balancing Charm – before Professor Fig apparated them both to what appeared to be right inside the castle walls just behind a set of tents.

It appeared to be the edges of a courtyard, and in prime seating a heated conversation between Rookwood and Ranrok. The top hat wearing man paced back and forth, gesticulating as Ranrok remained stern. His armour looked… even more entrenched in the red globular magic.

“If I’d known your plan was to dig up half the country- “

“I wouldn’t have to dig if you could simply manage to bring me that snow-haired child you disgustingly call a rabbit,” growled Ranrok.

Rookwood spat. “We wouldn’t need her if you hadn’t sent a dragon retrieve the container, I spent months and countless Ministry favours tracking.”

“You let them board the carriage.” Ranrok jabbed his finger.

“Have you not acquired enough power here?” Rookwood gestured around himself. “I allowed you to tunnel under my family home – “

“ALLOWED ME?” Ranrok bellowed. “You are here only because you are descended from a Keeper and may at some point inadvertently become valuable. We have an agreement. I will share with you the power that I discovered if you locate the stores of magic that are yet to be found.”

Ranrok’s shoulder pads and gauntlets glowered like heated iron or lava. Yet from his chest Artemis could see the faint waves of something red and black. Her skin prickled as the hairs on her arm stood.

“So, unless you want another demonstration of my power – a power that you one day hope to wield – bring her to me.”

With the final word – and glare – exchanged, Rookwood apparated away as Ranrok marched into the castle itself.

A few minutes passed before they broke their silence.

 “So that’s why they’re digging under Isidora’s house,” whispered Artemis.

“It seems that way. It’s also clear they both know about the Keepers. Highly disconcerting,” whispered Professor Fig. “Follow me; with all of the damage this castle’s weathered, there’s bound to be an entrance through the battlements.”

The familiar scent of chai guided Artemis near her mentor through the battlements of the castle, and sure enough a bricked wall had weathered away into the upper levels of a severely beaten down central hall. Professor Fig held her hand as they apparated down to the lower level.

“Professor, those buttons.”

“Hm? You mean those bronze things? Wait, that symbol…”

“Yes, I recognise it from the library. Let me just –” Artemis started as she sent off some basic casts toward the bronze buttons. The large door beyond the staircase glowed the typical ancient magic blue before it unlocked and opened forward.

“Incredible,” breathed Professor Fig. “This is different from the first trial entrance. Though I’m surprised it appears nobody used the door.”

“Professor Rackham mentioned my regular magic already imbues ancient magic,” explained Artemis as she followed Professor Fig’s footfall into what seemed to be a cellar. “Perhaps the symbol only reacts to my casts? Or, touch.”

“Perhaps. Though that leaves the question of how – oh.” Professor Fig paused as they entered the main part of the cellar. “I suppose that gaping hole explains how they got in. Drills.”

Dim sunlight poured into the dark cellar from a gargantuan hole in the ceiling. Bricks were strewn about haphazardly, clear that anything that had existed inside this portion of the cellar had been plundered.

“Professor?”

“Yes?”

“It’s… something’s glowing red down to our left,” whispered Artemis. “The same glow as Ranrok’s armour.”

“And that’s where the goblin tracks lead. Stay close.”

Only the sounds of their feet reverberated against the stone walls as they walked further down. In front of them opened a large, spherical cavern that seemed to have exploded. The earth was cracked as they reached closer to the source of red, and the hairs on the back of Artemis’ neck stood as her skin burned.

“This must be the store of magic that they were arguing about; it looks empty,” remarked Professor Fig.

Before them was a gargantuan silver object split open. Red veins pumped in the earth around it – ancient magic.

“Professor Rookwood mentioned that created ancient magic can be manipulated,” said Artemis as she ignored the pain. “Why would they store ancient magic like this?”

“I’m not sure, perhaps they believed a Keeper’s home was the safest location,” mused Professor Fig. “You said it is glowing red. Is the ancient magic still there?”

Artemis narrowed her eyes at the broken object in front of them as she ignored the way her skin cried for something to cool down.

“Not exactly. The magic itself seems to have been completely removed. It – it’s hard to explain. Um… it’s more like the fire kept in the hearth during the winter night.”

“Hm. Perhaps they need this so that the magic in their armour can continue to be used? I’ll dig through Miriam’s notes some more when we get back. For right now, let’s move. I’d rather not have another surprise run-in with Ranrok or Rookwood.”

“Agreed.”

“Now, where is that portrait… ah, perhaps that way,” said Professor Fig.

The pair followed through the hall and down the stairs; goblins and human tracks were both present. Her skin cooled the further they got from that object.

“Hello?”

Professor Rookwood’s voice rang from the empty frame.

“Professor Rookwood?” Artemis asked.

Professor Fig and Artemis both dropped their disillusionment as the stout man appeared in the frame.

“Oh thank Merlin. Artemis, we heard from Professor Fig. Are you alright?”

“I’m better, sir.”

She wasn’t alright, but she’d live.

“Sir, the ancient magic you had stored in in that odd silver container – it been taken by Ranrok and his Loyalists.”

“No! Things are more dire than I could have imagined. I still don’t understand how this Ranrok could’ve known-  it cannot be.”

“Professor,” cut in Professor Fig. “If Artemis is to complete the trial now and not after the New Year like I’d requested, I suggest we hurry so she can come back earlier and rest.”

Artemis blinked twice but smiled at the kindness Professor Fig offered. Professor Rookwood cleared his throat.

“Right. My apologies. This trial will ensure that you understand the power that you wield. Power without knowledge is dangerous indeed. In the wrong hands –“

Artemis bit her inner cheek to hold back from interjecting that it was already in the wrong hands.

“– We will simply have to outwit Ranrok – and my unfortunate namesake.”

Professor Rookwood waved his hand in the portrait; licks of ancient magic fluttered along her ankles before she revealed the hidden door. The ancient magic felt cooler as it erupted – a reprieve.

“I suppose this is where I must depart,” sighed Professor Fig. “Artemis. I know you are more than capable; I’ll be waiting in the Map Chamber for you. But please, please be careful. Take as much time as you need.”

 Artemis gave a final nod to her mentor before she stepped through the doors.

It was gaudier than the first trial, with notes of bright gold cracked through the walls and blue-green hues reflected on every surface. The floors of the high ceiling cavern were akin to stained glass; the interior seemed of a pristine castle meant for some sort of royalty.

<<Was this really necessary…>> mumbled Artemis as she continued forward.

Her legside bag had been replenished with healing potions, and she still had a few Flaming Frenzies. Spending two weeks in the Hospital bed had not been the plan, and it showed with her severe depletion of offence potions.

She did not run up the stairs or hurry on the path as she had last time. No, if this trial was anything like the first one, she needed to save her energy for the moving statues… and probably a gargantuan one at the end on the platform.

Admittedly, she appreciated the new puzzles with the hidden pillars; it meant that she could hide things using ancient magic itself. Or even hide entire spaces – was that the logic that Isidora used when she built the Undercroft?

She hadn’t bothered to pull out her throwing knife as she continued, fully expecting statues to come attack. Instead, she swallowed an improved Thunderbrew and pulled out a few of the Chinese Chomping Cabbage seeds, ready to toss and grow. She was right.

“Herbivicus.”

Nurse Blainey had warned her that too many spells so soon after recovery – despite her physical injuries being healed – could lead to backlash. The Python Curse had coiled around her magical channels and constricted them, and there were some residual effects. With the way her skin reacted at just the proximity of the red ancient magic, she didn’t want to risk being inoperable.

Surprisingly, the cabbages took care of the statues as the teeth seemingly sunk into stone. As if their fangs oozed of acid. They even took care of the invisible statues as some rolled beyond the awkward archway in the middle of the room.

Many short breaks, statues and puzzles later, she was faced with the unpleasant familiarity of the ground shaking, and a platform standing in the centre of the caverns. The only difference was that now it contained an archway– presumably for hidden spaces and the accompanying hidden statues.

<<Great. This is, great.>>

She pulled out her first Flaming Frenzy and pocketed it whilst knocking back another Thunderbrew and her Edurus. Her skin became black diamond itself, and the ever-pervasive pain numbed. Her wand was gripped tightly as the little plant seeds came out once more. She’d conserve her magic until the big one when she couldn’t avoid it. She could do this. She was going to make it.

The Chinese Chomping Cabbages were unleased to reign chaos as she dodged the axes and swords swung by the statues, many of whom exploded from the storm that encircled her. A Sticky Solution was thrown to entrap a few as she flicked her arm, sending the gaudy Faberge egg objects to smash them into smithereens. The roots of harvested Devil’s Snare were unleashed as they strangled the stone off the ledges.

As the final statue crumbled, the platform shook violently. The centre of the platform bubbled as something in a gaudy gold and blue-green arose.

<<Why couldn’t I be wrong?>> She muttered to herself as she threw the Flaming Frenzy right onto the fifteen-foot Pensieve Guardian.

Its ancient-magic cape lit ablaze momentarily as it was swallowed by the flaming tornado. She might not be at her best state spell-casting wise, but she’d done this before. She would not break bones this time.

“Reducto. Glacius. Diffindo. Confringo.”

One after another she casted her spells, each time feeling like her stomach twisted. An uncomfortable itch existed just under her skin as bile rose to her throat. Her veins sung as she reigned a tempest down upon the statue as it dropped to its knee.

It was only when the statue brought out the military flail when she swore.

“Mother of Christ,” she sputtered as she just barely dodged its reverberating smash upon the ground. “Evanesco.”

The flail vanished momentarily, and as the statue remained confused, she pulled out her second to last Flaming Frenzy and flung it. The tornado inferno spun its dance of glory as magical shards shot out at her; she deflected each with a Protego toward the guardian that stood within the centre of the blaze.

As the statue melted into the ground with the dying flames, her lungs heaved, and her body folded as her stomach emptied its contents. Her skin was on fire and her body shook violently despite no chill in the air. Backlash.

Breathe in. Two. Three. Four.

Out. Two. Three. Four.

She managed a wiggenweld down her throat, the cool minty taste a soothing balm despite the way her hand shook. It was a full hour that she remained folded on her knees, unable to leave the ground as her body wracked of magical backlash. Slowly, she stood and made her way across the newly floating bridge, her footing steady out of willpower alone.

The giant statue of Rookwood loomed over, his hands on the floor in stoned, complicated swirls above the pensieve. A single, silvery tear fell from his eye and formulated the artefact once more.

<<Mine now,>> she whispered as she touched her wand.

The artefact became the size of a marble before being slipped into her legside bag, and she placed her face into the basin.

The memory was a direct continuation of Professor Rackham’s memories, only this time she saw from Professor Rookwood’s eyes. The Keepers had arrived to Isidora’s home in Feldcroft and were led into her home. It was a simple, lovely home. Even through Professor Rookwood’s gaze, Artemis appreciated the apothecary cabinet, the hanging dried plants, and the myriads of ingredients in the clear jars.

Artemis recognised a few of the ingredients as specialised components for advanced Healing potions – Isidora must’ve been a Healer before becoming a professor.

“We’re ready,” called out Isidora as Professor Rookwood sat. “I’ve something to show you.”

A man came out of the back room, and even through Professor Rookwood’s eyes, she gasped sharply. It was the man in the first memory, the one that had supported the little boy. It must be her father, but his shoulders carried a heavy weight.

“Father hasn’t spoken since my brother died. On my travels, I confirmed that which I’ve always believed: that we have the power to take away pain,” stated Isidora.

Artemis watched in a mixture of horror and intrigue as Isidora pointed her wand at her father’s chest. The man gasped as if he’d not had a single breath in years, and when her wand pointed back into that strange jar in her hand, she could see something in the jar. A red and black something. Globular.

Just like Ranrok’s armour.

“This is uncharted magic, Isidora,” started Professor Rackham as he stood.

It was clear that the bearded professor was shocked, horrified even. Professor Fitzgerald appeared neutral, but Professor Bakar looked… intrigued. Professor Rookwood’s own thoughts were in that it was something unknown, so many unknown variables.

“You can only see what has been sealed in the jar – and we do not know what power that may hold. But the traces of that magic are different from what I’ve seen before.”

The memory concluded with the father, who had not spoken since Isidora’s brother’s death, uttered two words.

“Thank you.”

Artemis gasped as she lifted her head back up. Why wasn’t that memory from Professor Rackham’s view?!

There must’ve been something other than just the red, floating magic that he could see, but Professor Rookwood wouldn’t have been able to… no matter. She found the crystallised wall, now familiar, that would lead her back to the Map Chamber.

She added the crystallised wall, as well as forming invisible interdimensional spaces, onto the list of things she ‘knew’ about to be taught by the Keepers as she stepped through.

“Artemis!” Professor Fig exclaimed as his shoulders slumped and a smile spread across his features. “Welcome back. Are you alright?”

“It was better than last time, sir,” she explained simply. Which was true, she didn’t break any bones or get burned. Just, was very ill.

“Well, that is good. You do look a bit pale.”

“I’ll be fine, sir. I just – there’s a lot of questions I have after this time.”

“Right. Well, the professors are here as always. Come, hopefully they’ll give you the simple answers so you can hurry and rest,” said Professor Fig.

As they approached, the portraits looked up from their positions.

“You’re back!” Professor Rackham exclaimed softly. “Good. When Professor Fig told us of your unfortunate run-in with the Python Curse, we were incredibly concerned.”

“And we are glad you made it back to us in one piece,” added Professor Rookwood. “It is most fortunate that someone so competent is following this path.”

“I – right. I’ll keep the second artefact safe as you’ve advised.”

“Good. Are you ready to move on?”

“That memory – I only saw the red ebb of magic that appeared in the jar,” said Artemis as she looked toward Professor Rackham. “I imagine you saw more than that to horrify you so.”

The bearded portrait sighed. “Indeed. When Isidora pulled out the –”

“– pain – “cut in Professor Rookwood.

“– The pain, yes,” continued Professor Rackham. “I saw a strand of blue, red and black connected between Isidora’s father’s chest and the magic on the tip of her wand.”

“But her father wasn’t in any phys –.” Artemis’ eyes widened. “She pulled out his grief?”

“What?” Professor Fig asked incredulously.

Her thumb rubbed against the glamoured scar on her palm.

“But that doesn’t make sense. Emotions aren’t solid, and not –”

“– Artemis,” cut off Professor Rookwood. “It shall be explained in due time.”

A wizened hand touched her arm; she bit her tongue and nodded.

Professor Rackham cleared his throat. “For now, allow me to introduce former Hogwarts headmistress, Niamh Fitzgerald.”

 To Professor Rookwood’s left, a woman appeared in academic regalia with her crowned, braided auburn hair. Her spine was completely straight as she looked down with kindly eyes.

“How do you do? It’s wonderful to finally meet you, Artemis Loreley.”

Professor Fitzgerald spoke with a heavy Scottish accent; her voice exuded wisdom.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you as well, Professor.”

“Excellent. Considering you’ve already completed two trials, I am certain you are more than capable of completing mine,” said Professor Fitzgerald. “However, I must first – how shall I say – ‘prepare’ the location of your next trial.”

Artemis and Professor Fig looked to each other. Didn’t they have everything prepared?

Professor Rackham cleared his throat. “We trust your judgment, Professor Fitzgerald. You should know better than anyone how to manage the inconvenience of, well – “

“- a vainglorious and exasperating headmaster? Indeed I should.”

“Headmaster Black?” Artemis asked aloud. Where could the trial be to warrant something – “His office?”

Professor Fitzgerald’s oil-painted eyes lit up.

“Charles was right – you are bright. Yes, well. I will see to it that the location is prepared.”

“Professor Fitzgerald will require some time to clear the way forward. I suppose in the meantime, we shall resume our training now that you are fully healed?”

“Actually,” Professor Fig started, “the school’s term exams are coming up next week, and Artemis did only just recover from the harrowing ordeal. I’d like to suggest that the trial be done, no matter how early, to be after the holidays. This applies to the ancient magic training as well.”

The oil-painted professors all hummed.

“We agree,” said Professor Rackham. “But if you hear anything about Ranrok or this Victor Rookwood’s movements, please let us know. Until then, Professor Fig. Artemis.”

Artemis mutely nodded before she followed Professor Fig up to his office. The warm chai seemed slightly too hot between her palms as she sunk into ‘her’ armchair.

“Have you heard from Lodgok? About the helmet?” Professor Fig asked as he sat across from her.

“Not yet, sir. Though I don’t imagine it would be a simple walk into Ranrok’s territory, especially since it seems like he defected,” said Artemis.

She was still stuck on the memory she’d seen. Isidora had pulled grief from her father’s chest. Was that what she meant in the note when she said there were other way to help people? To heal people? To take away their grief?

“Artemis, you mentioned that Isidora pulled out grief out of her father?”

“Yes. That’s the only thing I could imagine – Professor, how is that even possible?”

Professor Fig hummed into his cup as he fiddled with his scarf.

“Magic is very complex, and there’s so much that we don’t know.” Professor Fig placed his cup down and folded his hands together. “I believe we discussed that emotion is a powerful magic on its own. I imagine… if Isidora figured out a way to have certain emotions attach to latent magic itself, then it is possible. However unbelievable it may seem.”

Artemis sipped her chai; the spices warmed her throat.

“But grief can be attached to so many different things. Memories of happier times. Sadness. Anger. It’s…” she trailed off.

She didn’t know where she wanted to go with this. Professor Fig shook his head.

“I don’t know, Artemis. But that doesn’t mean that we can’t find out. Hopefully, there will be other memories or research to clarify this.”

Artemis nodded. She needed to tackle that triptych after exams.

Please take me to the masquerade 💃💃

So I did a thing...

A Bouquet of New Beginnings: Chapter 25 "Purple Vervain"

Summary: The Scriptorium (Before & During)

Floriography: I weep for you

Full Chapter: [AO3]//7.2k words

Trigger Warnings: Endangerment of a minor, pureblood supremacist times, past abuse mentions, suicide.

The below excerpt does not contain the above trigger warning items.

Excerpt below:

Artie,

Ominis accepted my apology, but he still won’t discuss the Scriptorium with me.

Could you try and talk to him?

Also on your other mystery – I think I got it. I’ll give my guess soon.

Sebastian

The Undercroft wafted of crushed alihotsy and peppermint as Artemis watched the liquid change from a murky pink to blue.

“Bind now.”

Ominis nodded as he performed the binding spell, sealing the potion’s properties into the Invigoration Draught as Artemis jotted down the brew time. The cauldron fire was quelled as Ominis silently poured the potion into vials.

A droplet landed on the testing strip – purple vervain appeared as the purple hued into blue vapours. Success.

Artemis smiled. “You did good, Ominis.”

The blond gave a small smile as he touched the vial. “Thank you. Never thought I’d ever be told I did good on a potion.”

“It’s true. I wouldn’t lie to you about the quality of a potion,” said Artemis. “Besides, these potion instructions don’t exactly help. ‘Dissolve alihotsy leaves when potion is orange.’ Really.”

“Shame, orange is such a lovely colour,” said Ominis sarcastically.

Artemis chuckled softly. “As long as you can time between each step and have the ingredients prepared beforehand, I don’t see why you couldn’t score high on the O.W.L.s.”

“Now you’re just buttering me up.”

“Just an observation. We’ll keep practising; repetition is key. But I think we had enough for tonight – three hours on an invigoration draught is a long time.”

“I agree.”

They started to clean up the makeshift preparation station, carefully transferring the remaining crushed ingredients into their respective containers. All the while, the letter from Sebastian burned a figurative hole through her legside bag.

She did say that she would talk to Ominis about it after he apologised, though she herself wasn’t wholly convinced. There could be something in the Scriptorium to help Anne or Henry, but it wasn’t a guarantee, and Ominis didn’t seem the type to withhold information without reason.

“I’m sorry.”

Ominis’ hands stopped as he lifted his head. “Whatever for?” He moved his wand from right to left as if to scan the Undercroft. “Did you two make some weird alcove on accident again?”

Artemis blinked twice before she shook her head.

“No, nothing of the sort,” said Artemis. “Though, I am sorry about that as well. I meant about… well, the Scriptorium.”

Ominis’ shoulders stiffened. “That wasn’t your fault.”

“Still.”

Ominis sighed. “Is this because of what happened at the Bickle’s?”

“Did Sebastian tell you?”

“He didn’t give me specifics, but he mentioned you four were instrumental in preventing a child from being kidnapped and said child not becoming fatherless.”

“We were lucky,” muttered Artemis.

“It seems the Bickles were the lucky ones.”

Artemis didn’t respond. Mr. Bickle was stable, but he had been placed into a coma to recover from the blade’s curse according to Mrs. Bickle’s latest letter. The relief she’d felt initially fizzled away; if she knew how to break curses, if she knew –

“Artemis?”

“Hm?” She lifted her head as her thumb let go of the pressure against her scarred palm. “Sorry, I was just, thinking.”

“I see.”

“How’s the view?”

Ominis laughed once. “Not bad, actually.”

The tip of his wand blinked its usual red. Curiosity got the better of her.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what do you see when your wand blinks? Or… pulses, rather.”

Ominis’ eyes widened slightly as his fingers smoothed over his wand.

“I don’t mind. But…” Ominis shook his head. “Never mind. Yes, I can answer that for you, though I’d be borrowing some of Aunt Noctua’s words.”

Artemis leaned against the now cleared up desk as Ominis started.

“Without my wand, I don’t see anything. Aunt Noctua said it’s like you’re in total darkness. But with my wand, I can ‘see’ the outlines of magic against objects or people. When you say my wand ‘pulses,’ that’s when my wand is communicating to me.”

“I can imagine the first time must’ve been a shock.”

“It was.” Ominis’ smile softened. “Aunt Noctua took me to Ollivander’s, and when I held my wand, it was like a whole world opened. I knew how tall Aunt Noctua was from approximately where her voice was, but it was the first time I could see her outline and exactly where she was. There were so many wand boxes on the shelves, I could see how many fingers I held up…”

“So, the pulses bounce out, hit the latent magic on objects and creatures, and then come back to translate through your wand to you,” summarised Artemis.

It sounded vaguely like how ancient magic existed latently before mixing with her active spellcasting.

“Exactly,” continued Ominis. “It’s not a spell, but it took quite a while to understand what my wand was communicating.”

“Is there a limitation to what you can see?”

“To a degree. For one, I don’t see colours. Sebastian and Anne suggested our first year that I stick my wand inside an Antidote to Common Poisons to see if I can ‘sense teal’.”

“Did you? ‘Sense teal’?”

“All I got was a wet wand for my troubles.” Ominis huffed slightly. “And like I mentioned earlier, I can only see the outlines. I can’t see paintings, nor can I see anyone’s features. Not unless someone decides to, effectively, glow with magic from the inside.”

Artemis hummed. No wonder he never asked about the painting in front of the Undercroft or about the triptych canvas. Rather, he was understandably distracted with the sheer fact an alcove with a triptych had appeared suddenly. Sebastian was rather smooth in convincing him they had stepped on some unknown magical switch while practising spells and it suddenly appeared.

“Ms. Noctua sounded like a lovely woman.”

“She was,” agreed Ominis readily. “She was different than the rest of my family. She thought like I do. Didn’t agree on the family’s use of Dark Magic.”

The blond gently bit his lower lip as he furrowed his eyebrows. Artemis waited patiently as Ominis shifted his weight on his feet.

“Aunt Noctua was a magical researcher. I – when I went back to the manor this summer, I looked for any of her research that could help Anne. Though it’s not like my family would let me take anything. Even her research was mostly hidden away.”

“The meeting last month –”

“– I managed to convince Mimsy, Aunt Noctua’s favourite house-elf that was always kind to me, to continue in my stead. To the degree that she wouldn’t get in trouble with Father. What she delivered to me was the copy of the journal about the Scriptorium and copies of letters Aunt Noctua wrote to my father. Aunt Noctua wanted to convince the rest of my family that there was more to my unfortunate ancestor than just worshipping pureblood status. She even found the entrance in the school but…suddenly she vanished.”

“Vanished?”

“Yes. The last one she wrote said that she was going to try and enter the Scriptorium and would bring back what she found.”

She blanched as a pit dropped into her stomach; the image of Dad’s gravestone without the death date flitted across her mind. Richard’s bones in that cave, abandoned for forty years.

She swallowed silently. “I’m not sure how to say this but, how did your family know Ms. Noctua passed away?”

“Family tree.”

“Family tree?”

“Yes. Many pureblood families have their family tree painted magically upon their ancestral home’s walls or inside their family grimoires. The Gaunt family tree is in a grimoire, represented by coloured portraits. The day she died, my brother so kindly informed me her portrait lost its colour.”

The way his eyes flashed as they stared just slightly toward the ground was proof enough it was anything but kind. But beyond that...

“Ominis.”

“Yes?”

“I think we should go to the Scriptorium.”

Ominis whipped his head up. “Absolutely not! Weren’t you listening to what I just said?!”

“Yes.”

“Then why?! My aunt died going there and –”

“– that’s why, Ominis,” interrupted Artemis as she walked around the table. His shoulders tensed as she came closer. “If Ms. Noctua died within the Scriptorium, then she deserves more than being trapped alone. If she died beyond there, then there’d be clues as to where she is. She should be found and buried where she could be visited by her favourite nephew.”

Ominis’ eyes widened a fraction.

“I won’t force you to go,” continued Artemis. “You’re clearly, and understandably, uncomfortable about the Scriptorium. But let me do this for you, Ominis. Give you closure.”

“You don’t think there’s anything in there that could help Anne,” said Ominis simply.

Artemis shook her head. “I don’t know, there might be. But that’s not a certainty. But what we do know is Ms. Noctua went down there. Sebastian would go for Anne, and I can go for you.”

Ominis’ fist pulsed gently against his side as his eyebrows furrowed and he remained silent.

“No.”

Artemis opened her mouth before he continued.

“We will go for Aunt Noctua,” clarified Ominis as he sighed. “I’m not going to let you two just go down somewhere concocted by Slytherin by yourselves. And if there is something … I’d like to see through her work.”

Artemis blinked twice before she smiled. “Alright. Though, I think we should do it tomorrow.”

“I agree; if we tell Sebastian now he’d want to go right after.”

“Right. Plus I’d like to ask him about the shed. It’s… concerning.”

Ominis hummed. “Of course. It might be prudent if I don’t partake in that conversation.”

“Why? You’re just as concerned.”

“Because he might be more forthcoming if it was just you, and you’d tell me.” Ominis gestured toward the gate. “We should get back; it’s almost curfew.”

“Right,” said Artemis even though she wasn’t exactly satisfied with the answer. She instinctively reached for his robe as she took another Calming Draught. He allowed it as he stood in front of the lifting gate, though he didn’t move.

“Ominis?”

“I am sorry, for not coming back last time.”

She shrugged. “It’s alright. You were upset and, frankly, I don’t fault you. I managed to take another Calming Draught without him noticing.”

“It’s no excuse. I gave you my word I’d come with you every time until you’re fine – that meant I would leave with you.”

“I – oh.” She gripped his robe slightly tighter. “Thank you.”

The corner of Ominis’ lips lifted. “See. You’re consistent.”

“Are you going to ever clarify that?” Artemis asked.

Ominis chuckled.

“No.”

💚Happy Weasley Wednesday! 💚

A Bouquet of New Beginnings Chapter 24: "Pink"

Summary:

An argument in the Undercroft between Sebastian & Ominis.

A Bickle Pickle.

Floriography: Make haste, Pure love

Full Chapter: [AO3]//7.4k words

Except Below:

“But, didn’t goblins curse Anne?”

Ominis was the first to respond. Sebastian let out a frustrated sigh as he tousled his hair.

“We only saw goblins at the estate. But Healer Gavin did these –” Sebastian gestured with his hands. “–Diagnostics? Which came up that it wasn’t goblin magic. But it could still have been goblins if they had a wand and found the spell somewhere.”

Artemis hummed slightly. “Goblins have their own magic right? Why take the extra step to use wizard magic?”

Sebastian scoffed. “I don’t know, irony? Why terrorise all of these hamlets? Loyalists don’t need any reason for that.”

Artemis gave a slight nod; it was clear they were near Feldcroft for the connection with the Keepers and Isidora. But the bulletin board in Hogsmeade showed their reach was far beyond the region.

Sebastian sighed before he brightened slightly. “But the good thing is, at least it narrows it down to wizard curses. I was thinking maybe we can find something to give to Healer Gavin. Help with researching the cure.”

“We could research in the l –”

“– Actually,” interrupted Sebastian. “Ominis could just tell us about the Scriptorium.”

The air chilled instantly around Ominis. His brows knitted together as he clenched and unclenched his left hand.

“Scriptorium?” Artemis repeated. Her question fell on deaf ears.

“You rat!” Ominis hissed. “This was supposed to stay between us!”

Sebastian’s eyes flashed. “Ominis, there’s nothing in the library! Anne had another bout tonight and it was so much worse! The Scriptorium could have –”

“– No it won’t,” interrupted Ominis. “I can’t believe we’re still talking about this.”

“Because it could have something to help Anne!”

“Anything to do with the Dark Arts should be avoided. It’s one thing to read, but this? It’s too risky.”

“You missed visiting Anne for this; it would be a waste to not use this. Anything to do with Salazar Slytherin is worth the risk.”

Artemis blinked twice, too stunned at the influx of new information to do anything. Salazar Slytherin had a Scriptorium in this school?

“I can’t agree.”

“Why don’t you want to help?” Sebastian said accusingly. “Artie’s done more than you have –”

“– How dare you,” hissed Ominis. A flash of hurt passed before a steely mask settled. “I’ll not say a word more.”

“Wait, Ominis!” Artemis called out in vain as the blond stormed out of the Undercroft.

The gate crashed down. Artemis sighed as she looked toward Sebastian. The brunet released a frustrated groan as he paced back and forth once more. She, for her part, felt useless as she stood there, her thumb rubbed against her scar. She should’ve stepped in and not stand there like an useless fish.

“Sebastian –”

“– Healer Gavin’s great,” interrupted Sebastian. “I just –”

Sebastian stopped his pacing when he stood in front of her and sighed. Despite it being his birthday, the joys had been replaced by a heaviness in his shoulders.

“You want to help Anne,” finished Artemis.

Sebastian’s eyes softened slightly. “Exactly. You understand, don’t you?”

“I do.”

More than he knew.

Artemis sighed as her eyes went back to the gate; she was going to have to figure out a way to drink another Calming Draught discreetly before going out. Somehow.

“Was the Scriptorium actually supposed to be a secret, Sebastian?”

“Sort of,” said Sebastian with a shrug. “Ominis didn’t specify that we kept it between me and him. But, he showed you the Undercroft, so I thought he wouldn’t mind … wait, that’s it!”

Sebastian exclaimed loudly as his warm chocolate eyes brightened. His hands flew as they grabbed her shoulders.

“You can help me convince him!”

Artemis blinked twice.

“Of…?”

“Going into the Scriptorium!”

Artemis tilted her head slightly. “Sebastian, how is Slytherin’s Scriptorium going to help Anne?”

“Look, the Gaunts are full of secrets, like the Undercroft. And, the Gaunts know better than most that there’s more to Dark magic than people realise. Can you imagine what Slytherin must have stuffed inside a hidden Scriptorium? There might be long buried texts! And –”

“– Sebastian,” cut off Artemis. “Where’s this coming from? The diagnostic?”

Sebastian sighed. “Yes. It showed these… dark tendrils that were wrapped around Anne’s veins.”

The grip around her shoulders tightened.

 “Said that it’s a sign of the curse being something old, and aristocratic Purebloods tend to have more than their fair share of old magic. The Blacks, Lestranges… even the Prewetts.”

“Are the Sallows…?”

“– Pureblood? Yes, but definitely not aristocratic, clearly. Anyways, I want to make sure we don’t miss any possible thing that could help Anne. The issue, is that only Ominis knows how to enter and, as you clearly saw, he won’t tell me.”

“You did tell him he didn’t care about Anne,” pointed out Artemis, “Which you know isn’t true.”

Sebastain sighed as he tousled his hair. “I admit that was uncalled for. I was just… frustrated with everything and – anyways. Would you help me convince Ominis?”

She blinked twice. She could see the point Sebastian was making, though there was no guarantee of anything being inside. If the Scriptorium had any sort of material that could help Leto create a cure for Anne – or something to manage it – that would be worth the risk.

“Only after you apologise and he forgives you. Then I’ll… talk to him about this,” said Artemis.

Even if she didn’t, her gut said Sebastian would find a way. Plus, they still needed to ask him about that shed.

“Deal,” said Sebastian with a relieved smile. He let go of her shoulders. “By the way, that book cover and bookmark – those are the enchanted ones, right?”

“Yes. The book cover turns into an Arithmancy title, and the bookmark lights up. Though, that might disrupt your roommates…aside from Ominis.”

“Fantastic, now I can read forbidden books out in the open. No one would be the wiser.”

“Unless someone comes up behind you and reads over your shoulder.”

“Fair point.”

Sebastian chuckled, but it sounded hollow.

The ashes atop the Sallow table flitted back to her mind. Artemis bit her inner cheek before she pulled her wand and conjured a boutonniere – a gladiolus with a forget-me-not and a geranium surrounded by green. Not a bouquet, but small and compact. She pulled a hairpin from her hair and transfigured it into a silver pin.

“May I?” Artemis asked as she lifted the boutonniere.

Sebastian’s eyes widened. “Oh, um.” He cleared his throat. “Of course.”

Artemis hummed as she carefully slipped her fingertips under his left lapel. The bright and colourful flowers stood out against the Slytherin uniform. She straightened the lapel and the flowers before she looked up; the freckled face of her friend was intently concentrated on her.

“By the way, didn’t know you knew a Curse-Breaker.”

“Kierston?” She asked as she looked back down to make sure the pin didn’t pierce her friend. “He’s a dear family friend. I wasn’t sure if he would be popping by today.”

“Do you think he’d be able to take a look at Anne?”

“He doesn’t know human physiology well enough, but he’s definitely a resource. I’m sure he’d be willing to help,” she answered as she finished pinning the boutonniere. She gave two gentle pats. “There. All done.”

Artemis lifted her head, her forest green eyes meeting his. Something passed through Sebastian’s eyes, though she couldn’t pinpoint what.

“Happy Birthday, Sebastian.”

“Thank you, Artie,” said Sebastian softly. A second passed in utter silence before he cleared his throat. “I’ll just, grab the other gifts. Then we can head out.”

Artemis knocked down a Calming Draught when Sebastian’s back turned as he grabbed his presents.

Ominis didn’t come back; her thumb dug deep into her scarred palm.

Thank you for tagging me @lyworth :)

Green are yes! (tbh surprised at the number)

I'm over 5'5 / I wear glasses or contacts / I have blonde hair / I often wear sweatshirts / I prefer loose clothing over tight clothes / I have one or two piercings / i have at least one tattoo / i have blue eyes / i have dyed or highlighted my hair / i have or have had braces / i have freckles / i paint my nails / I typically wear makeup / i don't often smile / resting boss face / i play sports/ I play an instrument / i know more than one language / I can cook or bake / i like writing / i like to read / i can multitask / I have never dated anyone / I have a best friend that I have known for over five years / I am an only child

No pressure tagging: @sallowslove, @galaxiasgreen, @clrfulstupidity @gingerlegacy07 @tusklovercstb <3

thx for the tag @illarian-rambling !!

blue 4 yes, black 4 no :3

I'm over 5'5 / I wear glasses or contacts / I have blonde hair / I often wear sweatshirts / I prefer loose clothing over tight clothes / I have one or two piercings / i have at least one tattoo / i have blue eyes / i have dyed or highlighted my hair / i have or have had braces / i have freckles / i paint my nails / I typically wear makeup / i don't often smile / resting boss face / i play sports/ I play an instrument / i know more than one language / I can cook or bake / i like writing / i like to read / i can multitask / I have never dated anyone / I have a best friend that I have known for over five years / I am an only child

tagging : @theartsyswissapple @agirlandherquill @butchingdyke @capnmachete and all my other mutuals :3

blank under cut!!

I'm over 5'5 / I wear glasses or contacts / I have blonde hair / I often wear sweatshirts / I prefer loose clothing over tight clothes / I have one or two piercings / i have at least one tattoo / i have blue eyes / i have dyed or highlighted my hair / i have or have had braces / i have freckles / i paint my nails / I typically wear makeup / i don't often smile / resting boss face / i play sports/ I play an instrument / i know more than one language / I can cook or bake / i like writing / i like to read / i can multitask / I have never dated anyone / I have a best friend that I have known for over five years / I am an only child

Everyone.

✨️THEM✨️

Look at them Allegrinis so cute aaaaaaa

The "Can I kiss you?/Please" Trope, but make it Ominis x MC ❤️✨

This was doodled for a scene in my fic. I live for this trope. I die for this trope. Therefore, I had to draw this trope, otherwise the Gods of Brainrot would never leave me alone.

Holy...

The lighting? The way he is illuminated because of *her*?

I love. Clora is just ✨✨✨

🖤 his light 🤍

Sloane is standing on the top landing, one hand on the banister to balance herself as she slowly glides down step by careful step. She’s wrapped in pale pink satin and sparkling tulle, the fabric flaring out from her waist and brushing the floor, the sleeves hanging loose around her shoulders. She’s something out of his wildest dreams, a fairytale princess come to life. A goddess—his very own Venus floating down from the heavens. Sebastian blinks hard, grateful she’s still there when he opens his eyes. Sloane tucks a loose strand of her ash-blonde hair back into place as she scans the crowd, and he swears her eyes sparkle when they land on him. He flashes a lopsided grin, trying to not appear overly eager. “You…” He forgets how to speak, flicking his eyes up and down her delicate form before meeting her stormy gaze. “You,” Sloane mimics, her voice just as soft. She steps closer, reaching up to adjust his bowtie. “You look very handsome.” “I do?” Sebastian knows he is blushing, the heat on his face increasing as she grazes her fingers through his hair, attempting to tame the dark, unruly locks. “What I mean is—” he clears his throat, wanting to appear earnest. “You look…beautiful,” Sebastian hopes he isn’t overstepping the blurry lines laid between them. “Bana-phrionnsa….” The pink on Sloane’s cheeks nearly matches her dress. “Thank you.”

Realizing I never posted this before. But here's an (edited for context) excerpt from my fanfic, Magic, Madness, Heaven, Sin, a Sebastian x F!MC fic that you can read on [Ao3] and [Wattpad]

art by puri.dew

Breathless

Farmer!Garreth x F!MC

8.6k words. Tags: NSFW / smut / loads of fluff / breeding kink unlocked / flirting / sexual tension

The sun was warm on his back as Garreth sat down on a log, pulled a small tin from his cloth bag, and opened it. He lifted out his sandwich and took a large bite, crumbs sprinkling over his lap that he brushed away with a grubby hand. A curious nose snuffled at his thigh, investigating the crumbs in case a piece of ham had fallen out too. Garreth smirked and scratched his beloved dog behind the ear and spoke around a mouthful of bread and ham. 

“None for you, mate,” he said affectionately. “I'm starving after hauling all those hay bales this morning. This is all mine.” 

Big, brown eyes looked up at him hopefully, and Garreth patted the spaniel on the head, his fingers soothing the silken fur as he took another bite of his sandwich. But Rusty had other ideas. His ears perked up, and he stood, tail wagging happily before he took off down the trail, barking excitedly. 

“Rusty!” 

Garreth saw who Rusty was running for, and his heart began to beat a bit faster behind his ribs. He chewed faster, swallowing a huge chunk of sandwich as he brushed the crumbs from his mouth and legs. 

It was her. 

Childhood friend, expert tormentor, and utterly beautiful. MC was a girl who lived in the village, about a mile from the Weasley farm, and Garreth couldn't imagine life without her. She came nearly every day to help out with the animals and chat with Ma. Her own mother passed away when she was a child, and she had become an honorary Weasley, always around the farm or in the house with the boys as they grew up.

She was a Muggle, through and through, but she knew about their magic. She kept their secret, delighted with their magical abilities but loyal to the bone when it came to their talents. Her only regret had been when he and his siblings had all gone off to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. MC had missed them terribly, but being here at the farm had kept her busy. 

It was no trouble for Garreth to admit that coming home for school holidays had meant coming home to her. He didn't care that his brothers teased him about it, poking fun about his little crush on her. Garreth didn't care. He'd tell anyone. MC had always been the prettiest girl he knew, and he'd hex anyone who dared say otherwise. As adults, his feelings hadn’t changed. In fact, they had merely grown stronger.

“You're a bit late today, aren't you?” He called out to her, grinning as Rusty bounced around her legs, tail wagging. 

MC was making a fuss of the dog, laughing at his little leaps as she headed closer towards Garreth, her braided hair over one shoulder with loose strands teasing on the breeze around her face. 

“Keeping an eye on my timing now, Garreth?” She asked, eyes glinting with mischief as she eyed him sitting on the log. “You weren't waiting for me, were you?” 

“Of course,” he smiled charmingly. “You know I'll always wait for you.”

A pretty blush stained her cheeks, and she bent to make a fuss of Rusty. “Maybe next time I should make you wait a little longer, keep you in suspense.” 

Garreth slapped a hand over his heart and sighed dramatically. “Don't be cruel, MC. It's the highlight of Rusty's day greeting you with a happy, wagging tail. How could you do it to him? Look how pleased he is now that you're here! You should come earlier so he gets to have longer with you before you have to return.” 

She lifted her gaze to his, her blush deepening into a glorious red as her gorgeous eyes narrowed. “Don't use Rusty as a tool to flirt with me, Garreth Weasley. Rusty is innocent and such a good boy.” 

“Hey, I'm a good boy, too,” Garreth said. He held out his tin. “I'll even share my sandwich with you to prove it.” 

Ignoring the hopeful gaze of his beloved dog, who he'd just told that his lunch was off limits, Garreth held the tin up as MC took a peek at his sandwich. 

“Maybe just a little bite,” she said, lifting the sandwich from the tin. 

As she sat on the log beside him, Rusty still trying to get her attention at their feet, Garreth gave her a warm smile. She smiled back around the sandwich, nudging her shoulder against his as she took a delicate bite. 

“Don't look at me like that,” she said, holding her hand in front of her mouth as she chewed.

“Like what?” He lifted an eyebrow playfully. 

“You know very well what I mean.” She was blushing again. He did love it when he made her blush. 

“I've told you before,” he said, reaching to take hold of the end of her braid, the silken strands of her hair curling perfectly around his fingertips. “I will never stop looking at you like that, not even after you turn old and grey. My eyes were made to look at you that way, MC.” 

She shook her head, and his smile only widened as he tugged teasingly at her braid until she was leaning towards him. He met her gaze and brushed his fingers lightly under her chin. 

“I am going to marry you one day, MC,” he said confidently. “And then you won't need to hike the mile long trail here to see Rusty everyday, you can live here at the farm. With me.” 

“You've been saying you're going to marry me since we were ten, Garreth,” she said, taking another bite of his sandwich. “Over ten years of just assuming I'll be your wife. That's not a proposal.” 

He smiled and let her go, picking up his share of his half eaten sandwich. “You will, MC. I'm going to marry you, and we'll have loads of ginger babies together. You'll see.” 

She laughed and gave him a shove. “What if someone else asks me first? I'm an eligible catch, I'll have you know. My father is a respectable shopkeeper, and I can cook and sew, too.” 

“Like who?” He asked, sitting up straighter. 

“Mr Turner from the post office hinted about escorting me to the summer barn dance. Maybe he will get down on one knee and ask me to be his bride.”

Garreth screwed his nose up. “Seriously? Tight arsed Turner? You've got to be joking. The bloke is so stiff he squeaks when he walks! What kind of lover would he be between the sheets?”

“Garreth!” She gasped, her hands flying to her face as even her neck flushed scarlet. “That's hardly appropriate conversation material.”

Garreth’s green eyes flashed mischievously as he looked at her, imagining how soft her skin would feel under his palms, how delicious those lips would feel against his own. 

“Don't tell me you haven't thought about it,” he said softly, his voice low and raw in his throat.

Their gazes locked, and he could see the way her breaths had quickened, her chest rising and falling quickly under her blouse. “You are a free spirited young woman with fire in her soul. You're going to want a man who can leave you utterly breathless, a man who knows what he has in his arms when he holds you.”

Her eyes widened, her pupils dark and flickering with something that lifted the hope in his heart. “And you think you are the man fit for that challenge, do you?” 

He smiled, confident and cheeky. “Come to the summer dance with me and find out.” 

“Are you asking me to be your date, Garreth Weasley?” 

“I am, and you can't say no either,” he said.

It was her turn to lift an eyebrow at him. "Is that so?” 

“Absolutely. Rusty would be completely heartbroken if you turned me down, and you wouldn't want that now, would you?” 

As if on cue, and totally planned, Rusty leant his head against her thigh, looking up at her with those beautiful, brown eyes. 

“See?” Garreth scratched behind Rusty's ear again, his arm brushing against the warmth of her thigh. 

He had made no secret of it. He wanted her. But, his silly teasing and playful flirting always seemed to be nothing more than banter between them. He wanted the real thing. He'd marry her tomorrow if she would have him. 

MC glanced down at Rusty, stroking his soft fur before looking at Garreth. “Alright, you've got yourself a date to the summer dance,” she said, then held up a finger as his mouth split into a wide grin. “But, it needs to be a proper date. No silly jokes, and you definitely need to wear something smart. You can pick me up and escort me like a proper suitor.”

“I wouldn't dare expect anything less,” he said, his heart soaring. 

….*....

Her arm was linked through his as they walked through the village, the sunset a glorious blend of pinks and gold across the sky, the hues reflected in the sparkle of her eyes. MC looked like an absolute dream in her pale blue dress, her hair pinned back from her face, with a waterfall of curling locks tumbling down her back. His chest swelled with pride that she was on his arm, and he couldn't wait to escort her to the dance. 

They paused near the gated entrance of the old manor house, the sounds of music drifting across from the barn. Garreth patted a hand to his chest nervously. “So, will I do?”

He'd taken great care in bathing and attempting to tame his fiery locks, dressed in his best trousers and boots, his white shirt impeccably clean against the moss green of his waistcoat. He had even adorned his outfit with a plaid dickie bow, and he was sure he looked the part, but he wanted to hear her say it. 

Her eyes took in his clothes, a smile teasing her lips. When she met his gaze, he felt the familiar warmth in his chest that came from just being in her presence. 

“You look very smart,” she said, her fingers smoothing down the front of his waistcoat, making his cheeks warm. “Consider me impressed.” 

“I should hope so,” he grinned. “I've got to look the part, escorting the prettiest girl in the village. That Mr Turner best be keeping his distance, that's all I will say.” 

Enjoying the sound of her chuckle, they entered the barn to be greeted by the lively music coming from the band at the far end. Bales of straw had been set out for seating, along with wooden plank tables, ribbons, and colourful bunting, adding cheer to the space. Dancers were already twirling on the dance floor, but Garreth led MC towards a makeshift bar area and got them two mugs of ale. Taking a sip, he licked his lips, and a crease appeared on his brow.

“It’s no Butterbeer, but it will do,” he smirked. “I shall have to take you on a date to Hogsmeade, or even Diagon Alley in London, and show you some wizarding hospitality.”

MC lifted an eyebrow as she sipped at her beer. “You are fairly confident of a second date, then?”

Drawing on all his Gryffindor bravery, he lifted a hand up to her face, his thumb grazing gently along her cheekbone. “My plan is to sweep you off your feet, and take you on many, many more dates after this.”

Her blush was instant, and she couldn’t look any more beautiful. He could kiss her right now, but he held back, assuming the role of gentleman as they finished up their drinks and he led her out to the dancefloor. 

Not one for fancy airs and graces, he felt a flutter of insecurity at first as they joined the other couples moving about the floor. He was a more practical man, used to using his hands for more physical tasks, his feet more inclined to be in work boots planted firmly in mud. Once he had his hand on her waist, though, the rest just seemed to flow instantly, his gaze transfixed on only her as they began to sway along to the beat. Her smile was for him, and it felt all together too marvellous to be holding her close like this. 

After a few more dances, his pulse racing and his face hot, Garreth was smiling so wide his cheeks hurt. The lively steps were making them work up a sweat, but it was great fun, and he was sure to keep a firm hold on her as the songs ended and another began lest anyone had ideas about cutting in and stealing her away. As they skipped and twirled, her hair fanned out around her, the skirt of her dress billowing against his legs. Holding her gaze as he pulled her in close again, he splayed his hand at the small of her back, the ridges of her corset under her dress pressed against his palm. He felt the fire in his blood and didn’t even try to hold it back from his eyes.

Her mouth was parted as she breathed hard through the dance. The pink of her cheeks and the spark in her eyes felt heightened as they held the look between them. This was a different kind of magic, as old as time itself, and she was the only one who made him feel it. He cared little for the snobbish views regarding blood purity. She may be a Muggle born, but she had the power to charm him. The words in his heart danced and swirled along with him, threatening to escape and spill from his lips. Every thud of life in his body was all for her.

If he pressed his fingertips to the pulse at her throat, would it throb and flutter as hard and fast as his did right now. Could she feel the maddening rush of desire that warmed his blood as a match in her own veins?

For years, he had loved her with his eyes, in the gentle teasing and bold suggestions. His playful demands that he would marry her one day were honest truths, a reality he yearned for, and maybe, just maybe, he would be bold enough to make it a serious declaration. How do you make it special, though? She had hinted at wanting a proper proposal, and he knew it was tradition to place oneself on one knee and present a ring. Not normally one for stiff formality, he wondered if perhaps something a little different might be in order, but nothing too over the top lest it make her decline.

“Shall we get some more drinks?” She asked breathlessly, her fingers holding on tightly to his shoulder. Her flush had darkened, her eyes dipping to his mouth and then back to his eyes as though her heated blood really did answer in kind. “I’m feeling rather parched.”

Blinking away his grand ideas of making her his wife, Garreth nodded, his mouth slipping easily into a warm smile as he slowed their steps. “Of course, sweetheart,” he said with a bow over her hand.

“Such courtly behaviour, Garreth,” she chuckled, her eyes dancing as he straightened. “Who are you, really, and what have you done with the real Garreth?”

“I’m offended!” He said with a little cry of mocking disbelief. “I am the epitome of gentlemanly behaviour at all times.”

She leant in closer, her arm linked through his, the softness of her against him making his blood heat to new levels. As she tilted her head to speak nearer to his ear, he felt his throat close against the mad flutter in his chest. “Does a gentleman hint at what he can do to a free spirited woman once he has her in his arms? I believe you mentioned such things as leaving her breathless?”

Eyes widening in surprise, he turned his head to meet her gaze, their faces achingly close, tempting him even further to dare risking a taste. “You remembered what I said,” he murmured. 

“Every word,” she breathed, her eyes darkening. He could have sworn she moved closer, his tongue sliding to wet his lower lip at the promise of claiming the softness of her plush mouth.

“I meant it, you know,” he said softly, his gaze devouring her face with utter devotion. “I know exactly what I would be holding in my arms, and I would endeavour to show you just how much that would mean, leaving you completely breathless in the process.”

Her smirk was devilishly naughty, the spark in her eyes spellbinding. “Would you like to deflower me, Garreth Weasley?”

His teeth caught at his lower lip, sinking down into the soft flesh at the images those words presented to him, barely swallowing back the desperate whimper that threatened to escape his throat. Barely even registering that they were standing in a barn full of their fellow villagers making merry, his hand tightened at her waist as his eyes burned into hers.

“In the most gentlemanly way possible, I would very much like to ravish you,” he said, his voice thick with loaded desire.

Their gazes locked in a blistering promise of a passion unmet, Garreth heard his heart thundering in his ears. This was more than bodily urges. This was soul defining, surely. Poets wrote about this kind of feeling, and whilst he was certain he could never put it all into words, with his very hands, he would make every endeavour to show her. 

“Garreth!” A sharp tug on his sleeve joined the urgent bark of his name, jarring Garreth from the moment, his eyes blinking in dazed surprise as he turned to see his youngest brother beside him. “Bloody hell, Garreth. I've been calling your name across the room. Are you deaf?” 

“What?” Garreth frowned, trying to comprehend why his brother was here, his shirt almost as filthy as his face, his ginger mop of hair wild with a leaf caught in the curls. “What in Merlin's name are you doing here, Hector?”

Hector turned his gaze towards MC, his lips twitching into a cheeky smirk. “Alright, MC? You're looking delectably pretty this evening.” 

“Leave it out, you little rascal,” Garreth said, rolling his eyes and giving Hector his full attention. “What are you doing here? You look like you've crawled through a hedge backwards.”

“That's because I have,” Hector said, his cheeky smirk still in place. “That's why I'm here. Ma has got her wand in a right ole knot. The baby goats escaped, and they ransacked her vegetable patch. She cast out a hex or two, and now one of them has got pink fur.” 

Garreth’s eyes widened. “She did what? Godric’s balls.” 

He groaned and put a hand to his head. Those mischievous little goats had been the bane of his existence since their birth, escaping and chewing their way through all sorts. If he didn't have such a massive soft spot for them, he would have jinxed them all himself by now. 

“Did you manage to catch them all?” MC asked, a worried crease appearing in her brow. She, too, had been on the receiving end of the little scamps during her times helping out at the farm. 

Hector shook his head. “Nope, there's still three on the loose, so I thought I'd better fetch you, Garreth. They like you. One of those little bastards bit me on the finger, so it did.” 

“Oi, language,” Garreth scolded, holding a stern finger up. “There are ladies present.” 

At Hector's rueful smirk, he got hold of his arm with the intent of marching his rapscallion of a brother out of the barn. Glancing at MC, he caught her amused look and shook his head, fighting back his own grin. 

“I'm so sorry,” he said, his hand catching hold of hers. “This is going to spoil the evening. I need to go back and help round up these baby goats.” 

“And I am coming with you,” she said firmly, grasping his hand and delicately lifting the hem of her skirts. “It sounds like you're going to need my help.” 

In the seconds he had spare to stare at her before they all began to head for the door, he was reminded yet again at how fiercely his heart beat for her. 

….*....

With his wand between his teeth, the glow of his Lumos spell illuminating his face and the ground before him, Garreth launched forwards and wrapped his hands around the middle of the baby goat munching on one of his mother's rose bushes. The goat bleated in protest, and Rusty the dog came scampering over, tail wagging excitedly. 

“Gotcha, you little rascal,” Garreth mumbled around the wood of his wand, tucking the little goat under his arm as he turned towards the barn. 

The goat was trying to nibble his now wonky bow tie, his curls a ruffled mess from the searching in bushes. The evening had not turned out how he had been expecting. Visions of romantic dancing and maybe even a cheeky kiss were fading from his thoughts as he entered the lamp lit barn. 

MC was at the goat pen in the far corner, bending over the now mended fencing as she made a fuss of the mother goat. He could hear the soft murmur of her voice as she scratched under the chin of the beast, seemingly uncaring about the smears of dirt on the skirts of her pretty dress and the mud on her shoes. She had not been afraid to chase after the escaped kids in her fine clothing, traipsing through mud and greenery in her attempts to retrieve them. 

“I've got another one,” Garreth said, returning his wand to his pocket as he lifted a very wriggly kid over the fence. 

“One more to go, then,” MC said with a sigh. She moved closer and reached out for his hand. “Come on, let's go catch her together.” 

“Her?” Garreth asked, lifting an eyebrow. 

“Yes, it's Blossom that's missing. The one with the patch on her tummy that looks like a heart,” MC said, holding tight to his hand as they walked back out into the dark of the yard. 

“You've named them?” He chuckled, shaking his head. “You do know they are to be sold soon, don't you?” 

“They still need names, Garreth,” she insisted with a smile. “How can they not have names when they have such funny, little personalities.” 

He paused in his step to look at her, a soft look on his face. “Considering how these little personalities have wrecked our plans for the evening, you are being rather affectionate towards them.” 

Her smile shifted into something rather playful as she stepped even closer, her free hand lifting to adjust his bow tie. “We only have one more naughty kid to catch, Garreth,” she said, lifting her eyes to meet with his. “And the night isn't over yet.” 

A little flutter erupted in his tummy, warm and pleasing as his mouth tilted upwards into a grin. “That sounds promising.” 

The bleating of the remaining escaped goat sounded across the yard, coming from where the old stables stood against a backdrop of trees. Once again, a mischievous goat was determined to interrupt any moment that had the potential to turn interesting with MC.

Turning to try and catch a glimpse of Blossom was rather pointless in the dark, and Garreth slipped his wand from his pocket again. This was the last goat to catch, and then he could have MC all to himself.

“Hold that promising thought of yours,” he smirked and held up his wand. “Lumos!” 

Still holding hands, they crept swiftly across the yard, the light from his wand illuminating the darkness and pressing back the shadows as they approached the stables, their feet squelching in the mud. Rusty was already snuffling ahead of them, nose down and tail up until he caught a scent. With an excited bark, he was off, scampering around the corner of the old, brick building, and the little goat came bounding out of the darkness. 

“There you are, Blossom!” MC said, holding out a hand. Blossom had other ideas, though, and skipped sideways in a move that was almost like a dance. “Oh, you little rascal!” 

MC lunged to catch her, missed, and slid on the mud. Her startled cry pierced the night as she grabbed at Garreth, catching his arm so forcefully that he was yanked forward in a sudden lurch. It all seemed to happen in slow motion, the arc of light as his wand arm swung, his booted feet sliding out from under him. In his efforts to be a gentleman and keep MC upright, he took the fall, hitting the sticky mud with a splat. 

“Oof!” 

“My goodness, are you alright?” MC said, holding her hands to her mouth as she looked down at him, Rusty bouncing eagerly forward and shoving his wet nose right into Garreth’s face. 

Somehow, Garreth had managed to keep his wand arm up in the air, his spell still lit at the tip. His other hand was buried in the mud, his face a grimace of disgust as he shifted into a sitting position. 

“I'm alright. Easy, boy, easy,” he said, attempting to calm Rusty, who thought this was an impromptu play session. 

It was at this point that Blossom the baby goat decided to take a flying leap into the air in all the excitement, and she jumped right onto Garreth’s broad shoulders, head butting him in the process. His grunt of pain at the smack of her hooves and head was lost in the bellow of laughter that erupted from MC's mouth. She was bent over with it, her eyes sparkling in the light from his wand as he struggled to get Blossom down into his lap with one arm. 

“Oi, don't laugh! A little help here?” He muttered through a smirk, slipping in the mud as he tried to keep hold of Blossom and keep his wand aloft. 

“Of course…I'm s-sorry,” MC gasped around her chuckles, holding out her arms to take little Blossom. “Here, let me…” 

Scooping an excitable Blossom into her arms, coating her dress in fresh smears of mud, MC quietened her chuckles as Garreth got to his feet. He tried to shake the mud from his hand, his eyes roaming over his ruined shirt and trousers. 

“Well, there goes my nice, smart shirt. Bloody hell, I can't go back to the dance looking like this,” he grumbled, his gaze moving to MC. “And look at your lovely dress.” 

“Could you use one of your fancy spells to make it all better?” She asked. 

He could. In fact, he knew just the spell, and she had always been so delighted with the magic that he could do. It had always been his pleasure and a wonderful excuse to keep her near him, to show her the spells he could do. Transfiguration objects would make her clap her hands excitedly, bringing him objects to switch up into something new. The best one was charming magical delights to impress her like little birds or butterflies. It was worth it just to see that glow of wonder in her eyes, her awe, and praise for him, making his chest swell and his dreams would fill with hope. 

Standing there in the mud with her, watching her make a fuss over the naughty goat, he realised that he didn't need to make all the mud disappear. None of this bothered her. Not the escaped goats putting a stop to their dance, not the running around in the dark trying to catch them, and definitely not the mud marking her skirts. She loved this place almost as much as he did. It was home, and this was where they belonged. She had to feel it, too.

“You look beautiful even when you're covered in mud, MC,” he said, his voice a little hoarse. “I'd even go so far as to say you are especially beautiful when you're all grubby and getting stuck in with the work around here. We are lucky to have you.” 

Her smile was particularly lovely as she petted Blossom on the head, the goat trying to nibble on the lace at the front of her dress, and he was certain that she was blushing. Instead of a cheeky come back as she was wont to do, her words were soft, her eyes full of a deeper meaning. “I love it here, Garreth. I always have. I'm happy to be able to help out.” 

She loved it here. Surely, it was meant to be.

“Let's get Blossom back to her family,” he said with a chuffed smile, nodding towards the barn, that warm feeling spreading behind his chest at her words. “And like you said, the night isn't over yet.” 

….*....

With the goats all now safely in their pen, Garreth stood with his hands in his pockets and a rueful smile on his face as MC approached him under the flickering lamp of the barn. She smirked as she attempted to straighten his dickie bow again, her gaze taking in the mud staining his shirt and waistcoat. 

“Oh, Garreth, you even have little hoofprints on your shoulder,” she chuckled, brushing against it with her fingertips. 

“All part of the farm life,” he said, tilting his head as he gazed upon her. “I'm just sorry it ruined the summer dance for you. I'm sure if Mr Turner had escorted you, there would have been no goat drama, and you would likely still be dancing right now.” 

A flutter of insecurity began to tap dance behind his ribs. MC was a rare one, and he did not blame other gentlemen for their interest in her hand. Despite knowing her since they were young children, this did not place any right or claim on her, no matter how he longed for it. He was cheeky and flirty. He made bold statements about her being his wife one day, but her heart was her own to give. 

He was just a farm boy with a gift for magical spells and the odd calamity. Was he enough for her? 

As she stared up at him, the glow of the lamp reflecting in her pretty eyes, he searched for the disappointment in her gaze but found only warmth. 

“I'd rather be here with you in the mud and chaos, than dancing with a man who doesn't understand me,” she said softly. Her face moved subtly closer, her hand still resting on his shoulder. “What you said to me the other day about needing someone who knew what they had when they held you. You were right. Mr Turner may be polite, and he is most gracious when he speaks to me, but his eyes do not hold the power that makes me forget how to breathe.” 

The pace of Garreth’s heartbeat began to pick up, a hand leaving his pocket to reach for her waist. Her warmth came even closer at the urging of his touch. “Tell me more about such eyes,” he murmured, swallowing thickly against the desire building within. 

“Eyes like a forest in spring,” she said, her fingers moving to touch against his throat, her caress like fire as she slid them tentatively up towards his jaw, unravelling the edges of his control. “Eyes that make my skin come alive when they look at me, eyes filled with a fire that I am certain nobody else sees but me. I could get lost in those eyes if I wanted to, I'm sure of it.”

She was so close now, he could see the myriad of flecks in the pools of her eyes, and he figured he knew what she meant. “Do you want to get lost in them?” He asked, the underlying tension in his words as dark and smooth as honey. 

The air felt molten and ablaze between them, all his nerve endings stretched taut with the need to feel every inch of her pressed against him.

“I think I already am,” she whispered. 

Endless day dreams and hours spent picturing how it would be to kiss MC, and now that his lips were finally pressed against hers, the real thing surpassed anything his mind could have painted. Softer than he had dared believed, her mouth sealed against his in a first kiss that had his toes curling inside his muddied boots. 

It wasn't too heated, and yet his blood was ablaze, the gentle pressure just enough to show the desire behind it. The shuddering breath he managed to pull into his lungs took some of the tension from his frame as he pressed his forehead to hers, his eyes seeking the comfort of her gaze. 

“Dance with me once more,” he said, his voice laden with the need of her. 

“I offer you kisses, and you want to dance?” 

Her eyes sparkled with a mischief he recognised, but Garreth merely smirked and took out his wand. In the corner near where they stood was a collection of farm tools, brooms and a rake, a shovel, that kind of thing. With a few careful wrist movements, his lips murmuring a charm learnt in a lesson taught by his Aunt Matilda, those practical and useful implements lifted up from the ground. In graceful twists and turns, imbued with the power of the magic that ran through his veins, Garreth performed the transfiguration spell to make a quartet of string instruments. 

“Garreth!” MC exclaimed, her hands coming up to her mouth as the instruments began to play a rather charming piece of music. 

Eyeing the look of wonder on her face, his smile was rather pleased as he slid a hand across her lower back and urged her closer towards him. “Not bad, hmm? If we can’t be at the dance, then we shall bring the dance to us.” 

Taking a hand and holding her more firmly, his fingers splayed at her back in a manner that suggested she was his alone. He spun them about in a smooth turn of dance. 

“Show off,” she admonished playfully, letting him lead her across the floor of the barn. 

It didn't matter that they were plastered in mud or that they were dancing in the barn with a family of goats for company beside hundreds of hay bales stacked ready for winter. He was here with her, and she was in his arms, her smiling face turned up to him with a warm glow in her eyes. 

“I may be a show off, but only for you,” he said with a wink. Swallowing down his nerves, he adjusted his grip at her waist. It was time to summon the bravery his school house was known for. “Anything for the girl I love.” 

He heard the swift intake of her breath, her feet stilling amongst the loose straw strands scattered across the floor. The music played on as they stood and stared at each other, a hot blush blooming across his cheeks. 

“Do you mean that, Garreth?” Her voice was breathless, her eyes wide. “You love me?” 

“I do,” he nodded, his throat closing up with emotion. “I love you.” 

Her gaze dipped to his chest, her eyes shifting from side to side, a kaleidoscope of emotions dancing across her features. Panic took wing within him, his fingers gripping tightly at the back of her dress. Had he spoken out of turn? Was it too much? Perhaps he had read the look in her eyes all wrong. 

When she finally lifted her gaze back to him, the tell tale shine of unshed tears glittered in her eyes. “But…I'm just a normal girl, Garreth,” she said, shaking her head as though she didn't understand. “I don't have magic. I am one of those Muggle people in your world. Why would you want me when you could have someone who can conjure fire, or…or wonderful instruments to make music. I'm nothing special…”

“You are everything!” He declared, shifting his hands to cup her beautiful face, his heart squeezing at her fears. “You are all that I want. Nobody else could ever come close. Another girl could have all the magic in the world, and I would still choose you. Please, don't ever think that you are not good enough, MC. I love you all the way from your bonnie hair to your muddy shoes.” 

Her lips trembled, and a tear escaped, streaking down her cheek. He caught it with his thumb, caressing the softness of her skin as he felt the burn behind his own eyes. 

“I'm probably being a sentimental fool here, but it's the truth,” he said, resting his forehead against hers and taking a shaky breath. “Please, say something.” 

A broken whimper left her mouth as she wrapped her arms about him, her fingers clutching at the back of his waistcoat as she pressed a kiss to his mouth. “I love you, too,” she said, the words like a balm against his lips. 

Like a dam released, he pressed kisses to her mouth, her nose, his lips raining his affections across her cheeks until she was giggling in his arms. Hearing her speak those words made his heart skip a beat, his emotions threatening to spill over, and so he used his lips to express himself rather than make a fool of himself and speak. He feared his voice would crack, and the burn in his eyes would turn into real tears.

“Are you trying to kiss me everywhere?” She laughed, breaking through the ecstatic tension in his chest.

His eyebrows lifted with cheeky intrigue, his fingers ghosting along the lacy neckline of her dress near her collarbone. Humour and flirting were definitely more in his comfort zone. “Hmm, that depends on how literally you mean everywhere.” 

Her cheeks reddened, and she gasped, but her smile turned almost as mischievous as his own. “This sounds most improper, Garreth,” she teased. “Perhaps a hint at how a gentleman may leave a girl breathless.” 

“Oh, it's wonderfully improper. Would you like a demonstration, my lady?” 

“Garreth! Not in front of the kids.” She nodded her head towards the goat pen across the barn, her mouth tilting into a teasing smile. 

Glancing from the mischievous goats to the girl of his heart, Garreth gave her his most wicked smile. “But of course, my love,” he said, taking her hand. “Right this way.” 

Heart hammering with excited anticipation, Garreth tugged MC away from the goats as he ended the music with a flick of his wrist, leading her around the huge stacks of hay bales to a darker, more secluded part of the barn. He let her go to shift a few of the heavy bales, uncaring about dirtying clothes already ruined, until he had a suitable spot in which to render his girl breathless. Circling her within his arms again, he kissed her gently, searching her eyes for answers. “Only on your word, MC.” 

“You have it,” she nodded.

As their kisses became longer and more heated, his blood fired to a burn that made him giddy. He lifted her off her feet and placed her down on the sweet-smelling bales. Deepening the kiss, he braced himself on his elbows, trying not to crush her with his weight. Her body arched towards him, the press of her curves making him ache with such fierceness. 

“Tell me you feel this, too,” he said, his mouth devouring the tender flesh of her throat. 

“Like fire,” she gasped. 

Her cheeks were flushed, her hair pooled around her head in a tumble of glossy curls, and her skin was addictive against his tongue. His fingers worked at the fastening of her dress, pulling the sleeves from her shoulders to expose more soft flesh to explore. Her gasping, tortured breaths filled his ears as he mouthed along her collar bone, dragging the dress downwards before reaching to pull at the laces of her corset. Crossing the line from friends to lovers had been his dream, his hope, and now it was his reality.

As her nimble fingers worked on the buttons of his waistcoat, his gaze blazed a trail over her chest, confined within the corset that he was eager to be rid of. Bending down, his tongue slid delicately along the plump flesh, pushed upwards over the top of the constrictive bindings, groaning at the promise of what his hands longed to hold. But, the laces were being stubborn, his fingers tugging with an urgency that made her chuckle.

“Rather impatient, aren’t you?” She teased, cupping his face.

“I’ve been dreaming of this for so long,” he groaned, grabbing her waist with the intention of spinning her around. “Roll over, darling. I refuse to be outwitted by a corset. I have my heart set on burying myself in the delights hidden underneath, so this naughty piece of lace and bone is about to meet my barn floor.”

Her laughter brought a smirk to his face as he rolled her atop the bales, pulling the laces free until the corset loosened. He immediately slipped it from her body, discarding it so he could smooth his hands over the red indents the restrictive garment had made on her skin. She was like satin and silk, so sensual under the touch of his work-roughened hands.

“So beautiful,” he murmured, bending to press soft kisses along the length of her spine. Urging her upright, she sighed as she pressed up against his bare chest, her head falling back as he slid her hair aside to suck gently at the base of her neck. “Let me feel you,” he whispered.

Fingers teasing around her ribs, he peered over her shoulder as his hands sought out the full weight of her breasts. Divinely soft, he cupped them both, closing his eyes for a few seconds to savour the feel of her against his palms. She turned her head, her fingers delving into the thick curls of his hair. As he met her heated stare, the glaze of desire he could see there had him claiming her mouth in another hungry kiss. 

Emboldened by her low moan, he let one hand drift over the softness of her stomach, caressing with a trembling touch before he dared to delve lower. Her dress was bunched about her thighs, his fingers sliding easily under the waistband of her underwear. Her breath caught in her throat as his fingertips brushed through the thatch of her hair, but she shuffled her knees further apart to allow him access.

“Are you sure?” He asked, needing to know that she wanted this as much as he did.

“Please…” 

His fingers caressed through the heated slick of her most intimate flesh, and Garreth felt his cheeks burn at her willingness, her soft moans driving him to explore her further, teasing at her entrance before sliding a finger into the silken heat that awaited. 

“Gods…” The word left his mouth in a breath of awe. She felt exquisite, and his arousal strained against the confines of his undershorts, molten fire gathering deep in his loins. 

As her hips rolled seductively against his hand, he worked to a rhythm, slowly stretching her until he could add a second finger. The tightness of her inner walls posed the idea that he might need to take care when entering himself into her. He ached for it, longed to make her his knowing he would be the first to do so, but he did not want to hurt her. For now, he concentrated his efforts on pleasing her, seeking out the tiny pearl of her pleasure.

Savouring every sound that slipped from her mouth, he whispered in her ear, pressing kisses along her jaw, and he kept a warm hand around her breast. Watching her writhe with pleasure, the skin of her throat darkening with a rosy blush as her whimpers intensified, he coaxed her ever closer to the peak. 

“Garreth…I’m close,” she panted, her fingers gripping into his hair with an eye watering grasp.

“I’m right here, sweetheart,” he murmured into her ear. “Relax, give in to it. I won’t let you go.”

Groaning at the delicious pressure of her peachy backside against his arousal, he felt the quiver of her muscles, her hips bearing down as her body surrendered to the fire. He slowed his fingers, coaxing her along the crest of the wave, watching her through his lidded gaze as she climaxed in his arms. Her moans were beautiful, but nothing could be more satisfying than hearing his name whispered through her lips like some kind of prayer. Bringing her to this point gave him a sense of pride, the love he felt for her swelling behind his ribs as he shifted her around so he could hold her against him.

Burying her face into his neck, she clung to him, the heat of her laboured breaths against his skin urging him to stroke his hands up and down her back as she came back to herself. They whispered their words of love to each other, taking a moment to pause and reflect before she cupped his face in her hands. Her gaze was one of hazy bliss, cheeks flushed, and a gorgeous smile on her lips.

“You were good on your word, Garreth Weasley,” she said, her thumb sliding temptingly close to his mouth. “Consider me thoroughly breathless.”

“Oh, but I am not done yet,” he said, capturing her thumb with his lips and sucking gently. She watched him do it, her eyes darkening again, lips parted.

“Of course,” she murmured softly, her eyes lifting to stare into his. “I had always secretly hoped that you would be the one to take me for the first time. I dared to dream of it. All those times you would smile and say that I would be your wife one day, I stored those moments in my secret heart and feared that another, a beautiful and talented witch, would come and steal you away.”

“Never,” he insisted, holding her closer, pressing the warmth of her flesh even closer against his. He kissed her on the mouth, his lips lingering before speaking again. “I meant every word, you know. I may smile and tease you, but there was always truth behind those words.”

Taking her hand, he pressed it against where his heart thudded against his chest, more serious than he had ever been in his life. “Feel that? Every beat is for you. I want you to be my girl, my wife. I want you to be there when I wake up every day. Marry me, MC.”

“A thousand times, yes!” Her smile was dazzling, and she wrapped her arms around him, squeezing him tightly. She didn’t even hesitate with her answer, and he squeezed her back, hardly daring to believe it.

All the grand gestures and speeches he had mulled over didn’t seem to matter, the charade of going down on one knee, the stiff formalities all forsaken. They were half naked in his barn, bits of hay stuck to them, their clothes filthy. But, it didn’t matter. This was their truth, and he had spoken with his heart, and by some miracle, she had said yes.

Capturing her mouth in a long, fierce kiss, he cupped her face, a grin appearing as his verdant eyes twinkled. “You will be my Mrs Weasley. I can’t wait to see ole ‘stiff upper lip’ Turner’s face when I call you that.”

“It’s not a competition, Garreth,” she chided gently, playing with a lock of his hair.

“Oh, but it is, my love. You are the prettiest girl in the village, and you are all mine. That makes me a winner. Just wait until I tell Rusty he is going to be so happy about this!”

MC chuckled and leaned into him, pressing her forehead to his as she bit down on her lower lip. “As much as I adore that pup of yours, he is going to have to wait. We have unfinished business to attend to.”

“We do?” Feigning innocence, he waited, watching and loving the fire igniting in her gaze. 

A breathless moan escaped his throat as her hand slid down to palm against the front of his trousers, his arousal waking from its semi-slumber at her touch. Her lips grazed against his in a teasing kiss, her eyes locked with his. Gods, she made his blood burn.

“Make me yours,” she whispered against his mouth.

Laying naked on the hay bales beneath him, her legs parted to welcome him, MC looked like perfection. His eyes blazed with his desire as he admired the soft curves, his fingers stroking against her glistening and inviting entrance as he prepared her for him. Taking his time to savour the intimacy and to ensure her comfort, Garreth pressed himself into her slick heat, biting his lip against his urgent need. So tight and hot, she squeezed around him, his cock throbbing as he slid deeper.

At her wince, he paused, but her fingers bit into his hips, urging him to push. “Don’t stop,” she gasped, glancing down to where they were joined. 

Moving slowly at first, the pleasure began to build until his eyes became glazed, liquid fire pooling with blissful ecstasy at the base of his spine. Her little hands clung to him, her grip fierce and hungry, her head thrown back, and lips parted as she moaned beneath him. He couldn’t get enough. It was erotic and sensual. It was blowing his mind. The feel of her was driving him insane and his climax was imminent. 

Looking down at where he thrust into her, watching as he filled her over and over, his hips snapped harder. The slap of their flesh punctuated his rhythm, the harshness of his breaths becoming cries of ecstasy as the heat exploded in his lower back, his hips slamming forward until he was fully sheathed within her tight heat. Eyes closed as the pulsing wave of his orgasm overcame him, he shuddered as thick spurts of release spilt deep inside of her. Behind his eyelids, the erotic image of MC’s flushed and naked body seared through his thoughts.

As the wave of his orgasm began to ebb, he gently rolled his hips, grinding against her as though pressing his seed even deeper inside. They were not married yet, but he did not regret filling her up. In fact, it was incredibly arousing to think of it. Gasping air into his lungs, he opened his eyes as he felt her hands urging him closer. Her smile was soft, her fingers gentle as she smoothed his hair back from his sweat slicked forehead.

“I love you,” she whispered, her mouth pressing delicate kisses on his flushed face. 

A subtle movement of her hips made him moan softly, the sensitivity of her walls flexing around his very happy cock sending shivers up his spine. Seeking out her mouth for a kiss filled with longing, he realised that it was possible to fall in love even deeper than before. Staring into those eyes, he had certainly got lost in them, lost in her, and now she would be his forever.

Their future lay ahead, living here on the family farm where they could raise their children. Perhaps they would be magical, like him, and they would go to Hogwarts. Even if they weren’t, and they were like their mother, he wouldn’t mind. They would be Weasleys, they would be loved, and that was a wonderful and beautiful thought.

🌸Thank you for the tag @sallowslove

🌸Artemis Loreley when she goes to visit her mother's family on the Pacific side.

🌸Darling, sweet girl with a shadow cast.

🌸NP tags: @sunnyrealist @thefeatherwrites @gingerlegacy07 @galaxiasgreen

oh, these are such beautiful picrews, and I just had to!

make your OC + their sword of choice

np tagging: @valyrra @localravenclaw @shanaraharlyah @thriftstorebabayaga @eternalremorse @charmedcleric @sebastianswallows @ominisss @trulyblockedout @ephemerasnape, and really anyone who'd like to join

AaaaaAAAAAAAA Yoshi truly thank you SO SO much for bringing Artemis to life I can't 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

You already heard me garble scream about it all but like. Love. Truly. I'm so happy this scene came to life by your hand I don't have enough vernacular to convey the love.

Adding the snippet audio of what this scene depicts for fun, and just. Thank you 💕💕💕

Ominis Gaunt x Artemis Loreley (commission)

I've beaten this bloody background yeaaah ! This is a commission I did for my lovely friend Polaris Greenley💕

A Bouquet of New Beginnings Chapter 23: Anemone

Summary: A little finding in the Undercroft, and it's a twin birthday (11/11).

Floriography: Healing & Sickness

Full Chapter: [AO3]//7.1k words

Excerpt Below:

Sebastian sneezed. “We really need to dust down here.”

“You’re a wizard, cast a scourgify,” quipped Ominis.

“Why don’t you do it? You always complain mine’s not as good as yours,” countered Sebastian, his eyes now lifted from his book.

“Because I’m busy, Sebastian.” Ominis lifted his pestle. “And you are interrupting.”

Artemis brought her attention back from the incredibly distracting pool of ancient magic. Ominis had managed to crush the dittany into fine granules after four bowls before the genius epiphany of placing a sticking charm on the mortar came to be. Sebastian had come down at the start of the third bowl, and much to Ominis’ chagrin, decided to stay.

“This looks good, Ominis. Now, stick your fingers in so you can feel the texture.”

Ominis perked up slightly as his porcelain smooth fingers slipped into the dittany.

“Did you stick your fingers into dittany when you learned?”

“Still do sometimes,” hummed Artemis. “Guilty pleasure.”

Sebastian chuckled as he flipped a page, and Ominis even smiled small. They’d poured the varied dittanies into their separate jars; she’d crush the other three thoroughly later. They could prepare for the brewing next session.

Ominis leaned just close enough to whisper. “I’ll be back in an hour.”

“Okay, have fun.”

Ominis huffed a quiet laugh. “As much as one could.”

Artemis watched as Ominis exited and the gate fell with a clang.

Sebastian piped up. “He’s gone to wrap our presents, hasn’t he.”

“Maybe he wanted to chat with the mermaids,” said Artemis.

Ominis was, in fact, going to wrap Sebastian and Anne’s presents. She was on distraction duty, and frankly, it was a blessing in disguise.

“Uh-huh, right,” said Sebastian sarcastically as he closed the book. “But I’ll take it. Now that he’s shown you the Undercroft, we can talk freely without any ears on us. About ancient magic, and where you actually were on Halloween.”

“I was in Hogsmeade.”

“Really. Fig wasn’t pulling my leg?”

“Yes. But… not to study ruins.”

“Go on.”

She bit her inner cheek. She didn’t know how Sebastian would react about Lodgok and that whole debacle, but she had to give him something. He already knew about the ancient magic – it wouldn’t hurt for him to know.

“Ominis wasn’t wrong; I was ill. Just not with a sickness. Being in Hogwarts on Halloween was making me sick.”

“What does that even – wait. Don’t tell me. Let me think…” trailed off Sebastian.

His warm chocolate eyes pierced through her as she could see the gears shift in his mind. His fingers drummed on the book spine. He paced in front of her, back and forth like a pendulum, and sometimes she would catch little flickers of the ancient magic lick his ankles.

Sebastian slowly touched his finger on her hand. “Your hand’s still cold.”

“I suppose.”

“And you hardly reacted when Nearly Headless Nick strolled through your arm yesterday.”

“I…suppose?”

“You didn’t take Garreth’s poisons, did you?” Sebastian asked with an eyebrow raised.

Artemis blinked twice. “No!”

“Hey, just had to get that option out of the way,” said Sebastian with his hands up.

The momentary easy smile slipped as he again paced. His eyes danced with curiosity, but they had limited time that they’d be alone in the Undercroft; she had a long way to go before she could set foot inside without an obvious Calming Draught and Ominis.

“I could offer a different mystery, if you wanted to think on that one for a while?”

“Sure, I’ll get back to you with an answer later,” said Sebastian. “Good mystery?”

“I see ancient magic here.”

Sebastian full on stopped with his eyes widened. “WHAT?!”

Artemis pointed toward the arcane blue puddle. “There, specifically.”

“Since when!”

“Since Ominis showed me last week. But I couldn’t very well do anything… plus, I wanted you here.”

Sebastian stopped his wild gesticulation before he straightened up. The warm chocolate browns now danced with excitement as the firelight from the candelabras reflected along the lens.

“Oh.” He cleared his throat with an easy smile. “Well, here I am. Come on! Let’s find out what it is. It can’t be a statue at least; the ceiling’s too low.”

Artemis chuckled. “Small comfort, that.”

“Can I stand with you? When you do your –” Sebastian gestured. “– thing?”

“Of course.”

The closer she got, the arcane magic welcomed her as it seeped through her ankles and calves.

“Huh, that’s odd.”

“Feel something?”

“Yeah, like taking a dip in the ocean.”

“Hm, not inaccurate. It’s bubbling around our ankles. Just, uh, here, hold on,” said Artemis as she offered her left arm. “When I do this, there’s usually a burst.”

“Aren’t I supposed to be the one offering?” Sebastian offered his right arm with a smirk.

She rolled her eyes with a smile. “Semantics.”

She slipped her hand easily through his arm, resting on the crook of his elbow, and lifted the pool of magic.

The arcane magic sung as it rushed toward a blank wall. Sebastian whipped out his wand as he stepped closer to her, hardly any room between them as both their wands pointed at the shifting wall. The bricks pulled back and apart by the arcane tendrils, and soon revealed a large, brown triptych in the centre of a small alcove.

“Well, that’s new,” offered Artemis.

“You don’t say,” deadpanned Sebastian. “Come on, let’s check it out.”

She didn’t let go, nor he didn’t comment. Their steps fell in stride as they approached the strange alcove, and with a look, she slowly slipped her hand out of his arm and opened the triptych. Most of the canvases were missing; only the left frame’s depicted some sort of hillside mine, and a yellowed envelope with a royal purple anemone wax seal was pressed into the middle frame.

Artemis opened the envelope, and first pulled up a note with a collection of runic symbols drawn with more middle English.

“These look like those buttons down in the Restricted Section, don’t they?” Artemis asked as she passed the note to Sebastian.

Sebastian accepted the parchment as he stood just behind her, his right shoulder just behind her left.

“Huh. It is. Well, we already knew it’s ancient magic related, so this isn’t exactly new information. What else in that envelope?”

“A letter. Hold on,” said Artemis as she pulled out the letter – thankfully, not middle English – and read aloud:

“If this note has been found, that means Liz had done her part of the bargain.

Welcome to my sanctuary. I am Isidora Morganach, and like you, I can see and wield ancient magic.

Sebastian, this is… Isidora made the Undercroft.”

Sebastian whistled low. “Damn. What’s the bet that this Liz is Ominis’ ancestor?”

“I’m not giving you easy money, Sebastian,” tutted Artemis before she continued.

“You have also likely spoken to the Keepers – have been told of how ancient magic works to manipulate the physical world. How it can be used to transfigure the earth, to reinvigorate the land and call forth tempests. Useful of course, but limited.

I am here to tell you that that is not all that it can do. It can do so much more.

This magic can heal people. Heal them in ways no ordinary healing spell...can…”

“Artie… Artie.”

The amount of hope in Sebastian’s voice was shattering. His hands enveloped her shoulders as he shook them in excitement. She couldn’t blame him; her own grip tightened on the parchment.

This could help Henry. If she could figure this out… there was a chance he could walk again. She wasn’t going to let that chance go.

“Wait, there’s more.

This magic is complex, and I did not have the luxury of time nor the resources as desired for this research. I have left a path for you, so that you may learn what I’ve done. I’m loathed to think the Keepers would train you outside of what they deem as ‘proper’. Each location will have a canvas for you to place –”

“– Damn, she’s giving you trials as well? What is it with these people and trials,” grumbled Sebastian as he peered over her shoulder. His hands were still glued onto her. “Are the Keepers teaching you anything?”

She nodded. “Well, it’s a bit slow, and they are focused on honing what I already know. So, Isidora is right in that regard. Let’s see…

Each location will have a canvas piece for you to place, as well as a few of my tomes and journals. I hope that, like me, you will find and develop this new way of using ancient magic for the betterment of people.

Isidora”

A pause befell on them as they digested the information. Sebastian let her go as he paced, though this time his eyes danced with glimmers of hope.

“Artie, this – if Healer Gavin’s consult and everything comes back bad then – then you. You could help Anne,” said Sebastian elatedly.

She could help Henry. Anne as well, of course, but Henry. She took in a deep breath; it wasn’t good to rush to conclusions, not without evidence.

“We’ll need to learn how much she developed this. Then, see how much more work needs to be done to perfect it,” started Artemis carefully before her gaze met his. “But we’ll do it together.”

Sebastian beamed. “Yes, yes we will. I suppose the first place we’d need to look for is where this place is.”

He tapped on the canvas piece.

“I’m not much help there I’m afraid,” sighed Artemis. “I don’t get out of the castle as much as people seem to think.”

“Let me research it – lived in these parts for a long time.”

She bit her inner cheek. This was something a different angle on ancient magic, one that only she and Sebastian knew. She wanted to go with him, but…  

“Alright but, please, be careful,” said Artemis.

She needed to trust he’d be okay.

“When am I not – no, don’t answer that,” Sebastian cut himself off as Artemis looked pointedly. “Don’t you worry. I’ll be back in no time to translate more of that pesky Middle English.”

“Appreciated.” She looked up at the triptych. “How are we going to explain this to Ominis?”

“Explain what?”

Artemis gestured. “The fact that a whole wall just transfigured itself and a triptych appeared? In the one hour he stepped out?”

Sebastian looked back at the triptych, then back at her with a confident smile.

“Leave it to me.”

A Library Defiled

Garreth Weasley x f!reader

Summary: An tense encounter in the library shatters the barrier between friends and lovers. Tags: explicit | fingering | semi-public sex | friends to lovers 1.7k words

A/n: Just a quick smutty drabble from me but it's been a while since I wrote anything for Weasley Wednesday! I was inspired by this art which sent me slightly insane yesterday (help, he's so fucking tall).

The gold embossed spine winked down at your from its perch, far out of reach amongst the teetering heights of the stacks. Your instinct was to grab your wand and cast a quick summoning charm, but that idea fizzled out with a quick glance at your surroundings. The signs that Madam Scribner had hung earlier that year usually went ignored, but the stern librarian was only feet away now, shuffling through a cart of returned books. Forbidding the use of magic in a magical school was preposterous, though you could quite easily see Professor Black agreeing with her madness. No doubt it had been in response to that business with Cressida and her damned flying diary. 

You rolled your eyes before standing on tiptoes, fingers merely inches away from your prize, and yet it was to no avail. That extra height eluded you. The thought occurred to you to start climbing the shelves until the very book you needed was snatched from above.

“Wait, I-...”

“Is this what you wanted?”

You needn't have turned to discern who'd spoken—his voice was as familiar as his densely freckled face—but you fixed your face with a suitably irritated expression. You came face to face with his chin, having to crane your neck to meet the towering redhead’s eyes. Garreth held the book out for you with a smile that looked far too self satisfied for your liking.

“Yes, it is. Well done for being so tall,” you replied, casting another mutinous glance at the librarian. “How does she expect us to get anything down without using magic?”

“I think she'd be happy for nobody to touch the books ever again. However, I'm always happy to help a damsel in distress.” You could practically feel the implied flirtatious wink.

Shadow eclipsed your face, an arm braced against the shelf beside you. Your heart stuttered, arms clutching the book tightly to your chest like a shield in case the organ burst from your ribcage. The reaction he elicited wasn't new or unexpected—in fact, he played into it as much as he could these days. He knew how to stand, how to speak and what to say to send your heart racing, hoping that one day you would end the torturous game you played and let him fulfill those desires you both knew you held. The chase was fun but your patience and self restraint grew thinner with each passing day.

“Is that what I am?” you asked. Your voice quivered as you felt him envelop your back, his warmth seeping through your shirt. He ran hot like a furnace. You'd forgotten how to use your limbs, how to think; every sense was acutely aware and attuned to his movements. 

“You looked pretty distressed before I got here,” he chuckled, his mouth so very close to your ear. His fingers flexed against the wood, warm breath slipping down your collar. Another inch and his lips might brush your skin.

Garreth knew when to stop. This invisible boundary you'd drawn lay somewhere on the hair's breadth between your bodies. You still felt everything—the steady rise and fall of his chest, the copper curls that barely ghosted your forehead and his gaze lingering on your neck. 

Sweeping the hair away from that spot, you heard him inhale, dizzy from the slightest show of skin; not quite an invitation, only an enticement. If he insisted on teasing, you would repay him for his efforts. When he stepped closer you knew it had been foolish.

There was no more room between you anymore, only his muscled chest and the hint of softness at his midsection. “Are you going to let me leave or keep me pinned here forever?” you asked, hoping that the answer might be ‘yes’.

“I'm not stopping you.” He shoved his free hand into his pocket. He was quite correct—there to your right, was a route of escape. You could turn and leave, but your legs had suddenly atrophied. And then Garreth dipped his head further. To an outsider it might look as if he were whispering conspiratorially in your ear, his billowing robes and broad shoulders masking just how tightly your bodies pressed against each other. “You can go, or you can stop pretending not to want this,” he said.

“And what is this, exactly?”

Garreth shifted his weight ever so slightly, enough for you to feel an unmistakable twitch in his trousers. Cheeks blazing, you inhaled sharply whilst suppressing a whimper, clutching the book so tightly you thought the spine might crumble.

“You drive me crazy,” he replied with what could only be described as longing lacing his voice. Garreth wasn't the type of person to manipulate others; you knew he was being sincere. “Just give me a chance to love you.”

You finally looked at him then, shocked to hear that word slipping from his lips. He didn't seem to have noticed, or perhaps he held no shame in laying his heart on the line for you then. His eyes were full and earnest, unwavering as they held your gaze. In response to your shocked silence he asked, “Did you think I just wanted to sleep with you?” 

“Maybe,” you muttered. Despite every rational thought imploring you not to, your eyes dropped to his lips, and his own quirked into a smile at his victory. When he kissed you, he finally let go of the shelf to tilt your chin to meet him. The hand in his pocket came to encircle your waist, swivelling you around to face him. The book you'd held as a shield that signified the final barrier between your coupling fell to the floor with a thud as you gave into him completely. 

Your heart pounded so fiercely you didn't hear Madam Scriber shouting or the students whistling—there was only Garreth and his gentle touch and soft lips, tongues swirling in an endless caress. The battle had been long-fought but your surrender had made winners of you both. The whimper you'd forced down threatened to escape the tighter he held you, the longer his tongue teased your lower lip. 

Perhaps it had been a blessing when the librarian broke her own rule and blasted a hex at the pair of you, rendering you speechless and unable to move. Saving you from further embarrassment had been a steep price to pay and had made Madam Scribner enemy number one.

-

A month later, you found yourself in that very same spot again, except this time it was under the cover of darkness. Tonight you would exact your revenge on Madam Scribner by defiling her precious library. The room was still and blissfully quiet except for the rustle of fabric and lustful moans that spilled from your own mouth. Garreth's lips were just as sweet as that fateful day one month prior, his hand braced again on the shelf next to you—but this time his slick fingers teased your clit with precision as you pressed against his chest. 

Your head fell back on his shoulder, back arching into his touch as the circles grew faster and tighter. You whimpered unbidden, met by a breathy chuckle in your ear before Garreth's mouth returned to your neck. You guessed there would be purple bruises there tomorrow, by the way your skin now tingled and stung so deliciously.

“Fuck, Garreth…” Stars perforated your vision as every drop of blood rushed south, preparing for a mind-shattering orgasm only minutes after your arrival. Everything was so intense, so passionate with Garreth; years of tension finally culminating in the moments you joined bodies.

“That's it, let it go,” he whispered in your ear, silky smooth and commanding. “Come for me.”

You gripped his hair as those final slippery strokes sent you over the edge, coming hard with a loud moan that echoed along the rows of books. If they could talk, they'd have quite the tale to tell. Your thighs clenched around his hand, hips grinding against his fingers. His cock was already nudging against your behind whilst you writhed in the throes of pleasure.

“I can’t wait to be inside you. Fuck, you’re so wet.” Another nudge from his stiff length, his arm abandoning the shelf to hold you tight against him. You’d barely caught your breath before Garreth was tilting you forward, angling your hips just right as he slid between your folds. “This is exactly what I wanted to do to you that day, you know.” His voice had become gravelly, laced with want. His cock twitched eagerly at your entrance.

“I wanted it, too,” you sighed, gripping the shelf in front of you hard as books shifted and dust invaded your nostrils, yet nothing could overpower the heady aroma of musk that had you salivating at the thought of Garreth’s dripping cock. “Please…”

Garreth entered you in one swift motion, stretching you until you were blissfully full. He groaned and nipped at your ear, sending shivers down your spine before retreating and plunging back inside. Harder, faster, deeper; he fucked you until the books fell all around you and coherent sentences were a thing of the past. 

All you knew was him, and his name sighed to the heavens as he pulled your hair and bared your throat. The sting of your skin felt like promises, made to linger. He was everything, and he was yours.

Garreth’s long fingers trailed your collarbone under the open fabric of your shirt before wrapping around your throat. Calloused fingertips grazed your pulse and the corner of your jaw. You were close again; tension coiled so tight it almost hurt. He must have felt your body twitch, your muscles contract—he responded with a shuddering groan, his hips grinding relentlessly against your behind as he met his own release. 

Your climax followed soon after, every pulsing wave around his cock filling you further and further until you were dripping, happy and satiated.

The dim light of the cavernous room made for quite the relaxing atmosphere, and your eyes blinked slowly at the ceiling as you came down from your high. You could have curled up there and slept, warm and safe in Garreth’s arms. 

He was busy nuzzling against the crook of your neck when he finally sighed contentedly. “Happy anniversary, sweetheart.”

What I would feed HL characters and why

Because cooking food is the best love language

Sebastian Sallow - Beef bourguignon (French beef stew) with scalloped potatoes

(because that boy probably eats like a hobbit and I’m all for it.) (And an Onion soup for starters and a warm caramel apple pie with vanilla ice for dessert. He’s my favourite he gets the full course.)

Ominis Gaunt - Fraisier (French strawberry cake)

(because don’t tell me that boy doesn’t love sweets and especially fancy desserts. He’d try to hide his love for cute desserts tho.)

Garreth Weasley - Fancy Grilled cheese with cheddar and onion jam

(he is the kind of guy to always enthusiastically compliment the food but never remember what it was. Just that it was good.)

Leander Prewett - Bento cake with words of affirmation

(because he needs some reassurance. Like « you’re doing great », or « good boy » to fit in the small space ?)

Amit Thakkar - Dakgalbi (Spicy stir-fried chicken)

(I’m sure that poor boy suffers from being forced to eat British food everyday but I don’t want to insult his palate with my poor knowledge of Indian cooking. So Korean spicy chicken it will be, I bet he’d be eager to discover a new cuisine.)

Poppy Sweetings - Onion tart and a muffin

(all vegan because that girl would be vegan, and she needs food easy to eat while out while she cares for beasts.)

Natsai Onai - Cinnamon rolls with a hot chocolate topped with whipped cream

(because I’m sure her mother doesn’t let her eat too much sugar but she loves it.)

Imelda Reyes - Cacio e Pepe pasta

(because she needs her carbs as a quidditch player and she must like simple things. And she’d tell me I did it wrong, like Italians when you cook Italian food. Same attitude.)

Anne Sallow - Juk (Korean rice porridge) and brownies

(rice porridges in many Asian cultures are popular when sick, to give strength. And a yummy comforting dessert for that strong girl.)

Photo credit : Ali on Pinterest

Happy Weasley Wednesday!

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