A Bouquet Of New Beginnings Chapter 19: Forget-Me-Not

A Bouquet of New Beginnings Chapter 19: Forget-Me-Not

Floriography: Clinging to the past. Remembrance. True love.

Summary: A lil' trip to Feldcroft to meet the Sallow family.

[AO3]

Excerpt of the chapter is below the cut, and the full chapter could be viewed through the AO3 link above!

With a small wave, Artemis made her way to the Common Room. Sebastian stood near the waterfall in a pair of dark grey trousers, plaid beige button down and dark brown button-down vest with his school bag. Each piece of garment looked well-loved; it suited him.

“Good morning Sebastian. You look nice.”

Sebastian turned, his eyes widened slightly as he gave a cheeky grin. “Why thank you. Wakefield’s work?”

She nodded. “Mm. I hope I didn’t keep you waiting.”

“No, you’re just in time,” said Sebastian. “Come on; Feldcroft isn’t too far, and you haven’t explored the area much right?”

“Not really, no,” said Artemis as she kept up with Sebastian.

“Well, we could walk there since we’re so early. It’d be a bit pricey but we could take a carriage part way.”

Artemis hummed. “What about flying part way instead?” 

“I don’t exactly own a broom,” said Sebastian.

“I do.”

Sebastian whipped his head around. “You do?!”

“Well, technically, I don’t own it yet,” started Artemis as she tapped her legside bag. “Mr. Weekes needed someone to test his upgrades, and I needed a broom. The broom will officially be mine at the end of the school year, upgrades included.”

Sebastian’s mouth fell agape for a few seconds before morphing into a smile.

“First of all, you need to tell me how a broom fit in there. Second, broom sounds fine except for one thing.”

“Oh?”

“There’s only one,” said Sebastian.

Artemis blinked twice.

Sebastian sighed as he lifted his finger.

“One broom, Artie,” repeated Sebastian as he moved the finger between himself and her. “You’re okay with riding with me?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I? It’s just a broom,” said Artemis.

Sebastian let out a noise. “Have you ever ridden with another person?”

“Twice,” grimaced Artemis. “Thought if I flew it this time, it could be different. Unless you mind?”

“No, of course not,” answered Sebastian too quickly. He cleared his throat. “Alright. Let’s walk to Keenbridge then fly. I can help steer.”

Sebastian filled the air with excited conversation the entire way to Keenbridge. He spoke of how Anne was excited to see them today, of how they used to run around the hamlet and jump into the ocean during the summers. His warm chocolate eyes sparkled under the October sun. Artemis listened and responded whilst carefully concealing the nerves of going to a new friend’s house.

Keenbridge was a humble but lively hamlet. A potioneer was busy manning her stand, villagers chattered away with their tea and children played in the hamlet centre. A nostalgic smile spread as she watched a girl being playfully chased by a boy. Her gaze lifted to Sebastian, who looked wistfully at the same pair. She averted her gaze as she proceeded to pull out the Moon Trimmer.

Sebastian leaned in as he appraised the broom.

“Moon Trimmer? Reliable, but not speedy. Why didn’t you go for the fastest one?”

“This one has bags,” pointed Artemis before expanding the Cushioning Charm.

As she mounted the broom, she looked toward Sebastian who remained standing where he was.

“Sebastian?”

The freckled boy took another moment before he made his way behind her and mounted the broom.

“Pardon me,” said Sebastian as he leaned forward.

His left hand wrapped around the broom handle right above hers, and his right arm circled her waist, holding her steady against his chest. She could smell the cinnamon from his cologne mixed in the wind.

Sebastian cleared his throat. “The broom’s going to tend downward. Give it a few laps low before we go up.”

His breath tickled her ear, and suddenly she wondered if this was why Imelda asked of the attire choice.

“Right.”

The broom was reliable and steady; it didn’t fail her when she wore armour, and it wouldn’t fail her now. Soon, they lifted into the softly lit sky and leaned forward.

“Libro.”

“What did you just cast?” Sebastian asked.

“Sensory Balancing Charm,” answered Artemis.

“Why?”

Artemis hummed. “I get motion sick. This helps me to… not.”

Sebastian let out a laugh. “Huh, so you do have some weaknesses.”

Artemis chuckled in lieu of a response. As they flew, the foliage painted the lands below in their myriads of colour. The crisp autumn air caressed her cheeks like a long-lost lover.

“Wow, this is … breath-taking,” breathed out Artemis.

Sebastian chuckled low behind her, his hand carefully guiding the broom toward Feldcroft.

“Yeah, it’s nice to just… get away from it all sometimes,” sighed Sebastian.

She hadn’t heard him sound this relaxed before.

“I take it you like flying?”

Sebastian nodded. “Anne and I used to chase each other around with the school brooms. Even got Ominis to join once or twice. Granted, he was the one clinging onto me.”

“Were you on the Quidditch team as well? Imelda mentioned Anne was a Chaser.”

“Mm. Played Beater. We were back-up our second year and starters in our third but after Anne got cursed,” paused Sebastian as he sighed. His warm breath tickled the back of her neck. “Anne was much more into Quidditch; I prefer casual flying.”

“Hopefully she’ll be able to come back soon,” said Artemis.

“She will,” said Sebastian. “I know it.”

She heard the faintest crack where the parasitic frustration snuck beneath the optimism. It was the same frustration that turned her father into a near stranger. She slid her left hand up just enough so her fingertip ghosted his wrist.

“You aren’t alone,” murmured Artemis.

She thought she heard Sebastian’s breath hitch. She began retracting her hand - perhaps she overstepped. Instead, his hand wrapped over hers and gripped tightly.

“Thank you,” whispered Sebastian.

She gave a small hum. Only the sound of wind flitted for a few minutes, and he made no attempt to move his hands away.

Sebastian cleared his throat. “Your hand is freezing.”

“And yours is burning,” countered Artemis.

“I admit, I run hotter than most, but your hands are colder than Ominis’,” chuckled Sebastian. “Ah, we’re almost there.”

Feldcroft appeared below with blankets of grass and scattered little homes. There was a centre circle and farms for each home, but not much else. The air filled with a haze of dust as they dipped lower, and she sneezed quietly into her chest.

“You alright? Not catching a cold are you?” Sebastian asked. His arm tightened around her waist.

She shook her head. “No. But it’s a bit dusty, isn’t it?”

“Thanks to Ranrok’s lot,” muttered Sebastian.

The blood froze in her veins. “What?”

“Yeah,” said Sebastian bitterly. “See that castle to our right?”

Artemis turned her head; in the not too far distance stood a castle. Even from this distance it was clear the castle was past its glory days.

“Ever since last year, Ranrok’s Loyalists took a peculiar interest in it. Rookwood castle. No one has felt safe here since.”

“Wait, did you say Rookwood?” Artemis asked. “As in, criminal leader Victor Rookwood, Rookwood?”

“Could be. As far as I know – or rather from what Ominis gathered – there’s at least three Rookwood’s alive. I don’t know if it’s Victor Rookwood that owns that castle now but, either way, it’s overrun with Loyalists,” gritted Sebastian. “This dust, and all the debris is coming from that plateau to our left. There’s an abandoned estate up there, and the Loyalists have been digging for something… Anne was cursed there by them.”

Artemis tilted her head. “But why would they want to curse a child?”

“Dunno, Anne wasn’t going there for tea,” said Sebastian darkly. “We smelled smoke in the middle of the night, and there was fire shooting from that estate. Before we could stop her, Anne rushed out – racing toward the fire, worried someone’d been hurt.”

The grip around her hand tightened as his arm around her waist shook. She didn’t need to see his face to know he was furious. At the goblins or himself, she didn’t know.

“She came face to face with a horde of goblins frantically trying to stamp out the flames. Suddenly, an icy voice drifted out from somewhere in the smoke; ‘Children should be seen and not heard.’ A blinding blast followed. They didn’t even give her a chance to run. Even worse, my uncle refuses to investigate, even though he was an Auror.”

Rookwood castle. An abandoned estate. A quaint hamlet.

On a hunch, Artemis dipped further until they both hovered above a lookout, and it clicked.

“Sebastian, this view… it’s the one from the pensieve!” Artemis exclaimed.

“What?”

“The memory in the Restricted Section. The hamlet they revived – it was Feldcroft!”

Sebastian gasped. “Damn, that hamlet? Wait, so the girl –”

“– Isidora. The estate must’ve been her home. This – this can’t be a coincidence, Sebastian.”

Sebastian leaned forward as his cheeked touched her ear. Her cheeks warmed at the contact.

“Wait, you mean those goblins could be digging for something to do with ancient magic?” Sebastian asked loudly.

Artemis averted her gaze as she gave a nod. It took a moment before Sebastian slowly leaned back, at least, his cheek was no longer against her ear.

Sebastian cleared his throat. “Do you think Anne’s curse could be ancient magic related? You’d be able to see it then, right?”

“I don’t want to jump to conclusions, but I can definitely check,” agreed Artemis.

Sebastian hummed. “Come on, it’s high time you met Anne. Land us there.”

🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏

Casual trip to Forbidden forest for some ingredients....but then you...found yourselves at Black lake..and...🫦

There's definitely some likeness between the two but you can tell Richard has a different nose (more apparent from the side view, Richard's is smaller), eyebrows, eye and hair colour. They're both just very smoochable 😌

I don't really know why they chose to give them both the same distinctive hair style AND voice actor though. Was it a weird artistic decision to make Richard a 'ghost Garreth'?

A Bouquet of New Beginnings Chapter 20: "Devil's Guts"

[AO3]

Floriography: Parasite

Summary: The Keepers are *actually* teachers, and Halloween with the Helm of Urtkot.

An excerpt is under the cut as usual; the full fic is located in the AO3 link above!

Long before the sun rose, she opened the grandiose double doors to the Map Chamber. The two professors slid into their frames as if they were alerted to a visitor.

“Ah, Artemis. What a pleasant surprise,” greeted Professor Rackham.

“I presume you’re here regarding our previous discussion,” said Professor Rookwood.

Artemis nodded. Yesterday’s discoveries in Feldcroft hastened her need to learn as much as she could. It was clear they wanted her, at least partially, as a hunting dog. If the size of those drills were anything to go by, they were digging for something big.

Professor Rackham cleared his throat. “We have come to a decision. With provisions, we will teach you how to hone your ancient magic.”

Artemis’ thumb subtly rubbed her scar. “Provisions, sir?”

“Yes,” started Professor Rookwood. “First, is that we decide which questions we will answer. Not to say we won’t in time, but it will depend on your trials. Second, what is taught here is to be kept between us.”

“The sole exception would be Professor Fig. There is an importance of a guiding hand,” added Professor Rackham. “Finally, we will expand on what you already know. Until you progress further in the trials, we will not teach you anything that is wholly new. Do you accept these conditions?”

It wasn’t as much as she’d like, but she’d take it. She was patient enough.

“Yes, sir.”

The professors nodded, and she was glad portraits could not read minds. She was going to take some creative liberty in comparing their teachings, the book’s contents and Sebastian’s thoughts.

“Good. I believe we should start with seeing what you can do.”

Professor Rackham waved his hand as the floor shook. The pointillistic stars lifted from their pooled map and formed a statuesque shape. Artemis whipped out her wand and had a hand on her legside bag.

“Do not worry; it will move and attack but won’t hurt you. After all, stars are a million miles away from us.”

“Percival…” deadpanned Professor Rookwood.

Professor Rackham chuckled. “Use both ancient magic and regular spells – I’d like to see it. Begin.”

For a statue made of pointillistic stars it moved abhorrently fast. She felt the arcane coolness wash through her as she dodged the sword sings and landed more than ten feet away silently. Silvery petals flitted as she brought forth the tempest. In this arena, she could see clearly how blips of ancient magic existed in the very air that surrounded her and how they wove together at the tip of her wand as it interwove with her standard spells. The oil paintings remained silent as she flung spell after spell with practiced footing.

When the stars returned to the black pool underneath, she looked back toward the portraits. Her heartrate was elevated, but her breathing was relaxed.

“Well. I daresay that was… impressive,” said Professor Rookwood.

Professor Rackham stroked his beard. “Allow me to confirm a theory. When was the first time you saw the silvery petals?”

“When I cast Protego,” answered Artemis.

“In what circumstance?”

“Ranrok’s troll tried to crush a boy in Hogsmeade.”

“I see,” said Professor Rackham. “You mentioned my ancient magic shimmered like stars before.”

“Yes, is that tied to our individual cores?” Artemis asked.

“Niamh is going to adore you,” commented Professor Rookwood.

“Correct. To start, our magical cores are different even among wizardkind. We weren’t able to research as thoroughly as Charles would’ve liked, but people like us have a few specific requirements for our magic to manifest.” Professor Rackham counted off his fingers. “A longer gestational period, a specific mixture of blood, and a powerful catalyst. The first is because we can naturally access the foundational levels of magic – latent or active. That is why when we use the same incantations and wand movements as others, the effects are slightly different. More diverse. We surmised this ability means that it takes double the time for the magical core to develop. This allows us to, for the lack of better term, soak up ancient magic around us and channel it into our spells.”

“The second,” said Professor Rookwood as he pulled out parchment, “is a specific mixture of blood. It is a theory, mind you… this ability only seemed to surface within half-bloods. Unless you would like to provide contrasting data?”

“I – frankly I don’t know my blood status, sir,” answered Artemis honestly. “Both my parents were magical, but status never came up in discussion.”

If true, then Artemis learned something new about her own lineage. She wondered who was which… not that it mattered in the end.

Professor Rookwood tutted. “Pity. I could’ve added to my notes.”

“Charles,” admonished Professor Rackham quietly. “Now, the most important – the catalyst. The gestation period, the blood – those are just the foundations. What our core needs to activate is an emotional trigger so the foundations can take root. Something profound, and it must be before the person turns sixteen.”

Artemis raised her hand out of habit. “So, there’s a chance there have been others like me, or, like us, within the past four hundred years? Just, they didn’t experience the catalyst?”

“Potentially, yes. There are many unknowns. I won’t ask of yours, but I can tell you, my catalyst… was seeing the most profound meteor storm and being completely swept in awe.”

She sucked in a breath. She knew exactly what hers was – the one-year mark when Leto and Kierston rescued her from the depths of limbo. It felt then, truly, that it was real, that they were there to stay, and she felt completely and utterly safe for the first time in years.

“The reason the catalyst is so important is because your instinctive ancient magic is tied to that trigger. Yours is, I dare say, something protective,” analysed Professor Rackham.

“The best defence is a good offense,” said Professor Rookwood.

“That tempest was a marvel, but you must learn how to control the power levels. I suggest practising by thinking of a single lightning bolt, and tempering the intensity. You will need both discipline and patience in yourself; it will not be resolved overnight. Now, I believe we’ve given you enough to digest for today. I suggest a bi-weekly visit; you will need to concentrate on your regular schooling as well,” said Professor Rackham.

“Wait, I have one more question, sir,” called out Artemis hurriedly as the portraits made to leave. She turned to Professor Rookwood. “It’s about the memory of Feldcroft. Were you able to wield ancient magic? Or did you augment Professor Rackham’s magic?”

The portraits exchanged a glance. Professor Rookwood sighed.

“I only tell you this because you’d piece it together on your own at this rate. Those of us who cannot see ancient magic cannot cast ancient magic out of nothing. But we can wield, and augment, existing pieces.”

Not ten minutes later, she sent out a letter to Professor Fig. An hour later, she sat in her designated arm chair within Professor Fig’s office with Nocturne in her lap. She spared no detail in what she’d discovered over the past two days.

Professor Fig fiddled with his scarf. “Intriguing. The fact there’s been a consistent Loyalists presence so close is disconcerting... as is the fact that it’s becoming more and more likely they’d repurposed existing ancient magic from somewhere. You did the right thing, to not engage them with Mr. Sallow.”

Artemis sighed as she sipped the warm chai. “Do you think it’s possible they’re… mining for more ancient magic? I can’t imagine the Keepers would leave ancient magic just lying about in the open.”

“Possibly. There is the matter of how they found out in the first place. With their generally reticent demeanour, I can’t imagine the Keepers left their findings in easily accessible places –”

“– Aside from Peeves,” they said in unison.

Artemis briefly smiled before her eyebrows furrowed. “Professor, is there anything we could do for Feldcroft? I just… Anne lives there and, well –”

“Considering Minister Spavin’s response about the dragon, I do not think we should bank on the front-line aurors,” said Professor Fig. “But perhaps I can call in a favour and see if patrols can be brought to the area. How is Miss Sallow?”

“She’s… unwell, but she’s trying. She’s agreed to Leto’s check-up; I’m currently waiting on his response,” answered Artemis.

The older wizard gave a small, comforting smile as he nodded. “And what about your friend? Richard Jackdaw, was it? He is helping clear up a murder case, yes?”

The grip around her cup tightened.

“Yes, but it going at a snail’s pace. It seems the Ministry is… reluctant, to release Ms. Thisbe. Citing her long stay in Azkaban and the danger she possesses to the community,” said Artemis, repeating Ms. Thistlewood’s latest missive. Nocturne’s tail swished.

“More like Azkaban made her dangerous,” sighed Professor Fig. “You’ll unfortunately find that, though there are plenty of good people that work at the Ministry – Leto, Kierston, and George to start – there are those that are not and only care for their self-interests.”

Artemis nodded as she sighed. Richard’s bones remained in the jewellery box inside her legside bag. She never parted with it; it was the safest place to keep ‘him’ until he came back. Nocturne’s and paper tongue licked her fingers.

“By the way, did you manage to meet Lodgok?”

“Not yet, sir. Sirona suggested I meet him on Halloween considering,” trailed off Artemis as she gestured to her hair. “Though, it may be best to go alone. He doesn’t trust wizards, and even with Sirona’s recommendation, he may not meet me. Especially with another person.”

Professor Fig looked at her with those English greys, and she could visualise the mental scales as he contemplated her suggestion.

“I presume this is what you would like to undertake during independent study?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Hm. Considering everything that is at stake… you will write to me if it will be longer?”

“Of course, sir,” answered Artemis.

Professor Fig gave a relieved smile. “Right. Now, I think it’s high time for breakfast. Then we can check on the lacewings for the Polyjuice.”

Honestly this is like. The best weather. Please no more sunshine, or maybe gloomy sunshine I want the storm and the rain.

Cactus

Garreth Weasley x Artemis Loreley (MC)

Summary: The last Gryffindor-Slytherin Quidditch match ended, and now the after-party is on in the Gryffindor Tower.

Floriography for Cactus (Cactacae): Ardent Love. Burning with Love. Lust.

This was for the March NSFW prompt for the discord server writing event: "Getting (Un)Lucky Tonight". No cactus was harmed in this story whatsoever.

Tags: NSFW, Hogwarts 7th year, Gryffindor-Slytherin Relationship, hand jobs, plot what plot, drapery lions laughing at misery, Garreth POV Limited, inappropriate licking of green apple liqueur

Artemis is my MC in my long fic "A Bouquet of New Beginnings," but this is separate and not related to said story.

[AO3]//Word count: 2.2k

An echo of the Gryffindor-Slytherin Quidditch after-party climbed the spiral staircase.  A right hubbub of a - mostly - friendly rivalry, where drinks, song, and at least one miniature firework from Zonko’s had been unleashed. Garreth would usually be, and had been, in the heart of it – behind the makeshift counter handing out concoctions with his brewing partner.

“Are you sure it was fine for both of us to leave?” Artemis asked softly as she followed.

He would’ve sworn he’d climbed up the tower by himself if he wasn’t holding said brewing partner’s small, chilled hand tightly within his, their fingers interlaced like perfect puzzle pieces. The swish of her floor length green skirt drowned her soft treads.

“Don’t worry Snow,” said Garreth cheerfully, “We left plenty of stock for Lee and Sebastian to distribute while we grab more.”

“If they don’t drink it first.”

“They won’t.”

He made sure of that.

“Oh?”

She squeezed his hand; he squeezed back.

“Oh,” repeated Garreth.

The familiar door swung open and shut as the red and gold regalia revealed themselves, and Garreth regrettably let go of Artemis’ hand as he went straight toward his bed. The miniature cactus that she gifted him stood proudly on his bedside stand, and he gave the little guy a ghostly brush before he crouched to the floorboards. He snuck a glance toward her as he shovelled out a few crates worth of conspicuously brewed beverages. She was the lone presence of emerald green and silver; her forest green eyes were alight with curiosity as they travelled along the walls, the drapery, the ceiling, the desks, and now, down to him.

Their gazes met. She smiled; her cheeks tinted pink.

His stomach fluttered with butterflies just as intense as ever. He could die happy right then and there.

But instead of dying crouched on the floor like a sappy fool, Garreth stood as he pulled out an unlabelled bottle as he took one, two, three steps to close the distance. The top of her head barely reached his chin, her snow-white hair stood out brilliantly against the reddish-brown brick wall and the way her eyes lifted slowly to meet his made him question if they really needed to go back.

“Here, my newest brew,” said Garreth as he popped the bottle open.

“Oh, this smells lovely.” Artemis sniffed lightly. “Green apples?”

“Mhm. Go on, have a sip.”

She took the cool bottle, and her fingertips ghosted his knuckles in a subtle caress. His heart buzzed. Damned temptress.

“The first test?”

“Yep,” said Garreth.

Nope. He drank every disgusting version he managed to produce before landing on this one.

“You’re an awful liar, Garreth.”

The lamplight danced along her eyes; they crinkled softly around the edges.

He smiled like an idiot. “How do you know?”

She chuckled, soft and melodious.

“My lips are buttoned,” said Artemis as she brought the bottle to her lips and took a slow drink.

Her throat softly bobbed with a barely audible gulp. He could just see the tip of her tongue peeking out from between her lips – the same lips that could emit the most cutthroat of insults and words as sweet as molasses – as it licked off undoubtedly any remnants of the drink.

He swallowed for entirely different reasons that had his blood rushing southward.

“Tangy. I like the sugar granules,” commented Artemis as she gave the bottle back to him. “Not too sweet.”

Of course it wasn’t; he knew her tastes.

“Glad you like it. Want more?”

“Sure,” agreed Artemis warmly, “but after you have some.”

“Suit yourself,” said Garreth.

He didn’t move from his spot - nor did she - as they stood about a half-arm’s length apart and he brought the bottle to his own lips. He felt her gaze as he tipped the bottle excruciatingly slow, the green apple liqueur passed his lips in a tangy, light burn that filled his mouth. Particularly, she seemed focused along his neck, right where his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed once.

A thought – a brilliant, genius thought – crossed his mind.

He took another swig and watched as his favourite girl’s eyes moved with the bottle as the glass touched the nearest dresser. There was a moment, a delicious moment, where her eyes widened ever slightly just before his uplifted lips met hers. The surprised hum from her throat as her lips slightly parted was far more delectable than the drink, and yet it wouldn’t do for him to keep this drink to himself.

Fingers tangled into her long, soft snow-white hair, gently pressing against her as he took hold of her hand, his slightly dry, burning fingers intertwined with her smooth, cool ones. One step, two step, and his beloved was pressed softly against the reddish-brown wall as he coaxed her mouth to open with a small, teasing swipe of his own tongue. The green apple liqueur spilled a thin line along her chin and undoubtedly down the smooth column of her neck as he pressed forward, any distance between them criminally negligent.

Her other hand slipped behind his back. What he would give to have her always holding him like this, desperately clinging to him like this.

Even when he heard her swallow, Garreth didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. Not when the little gasps that escaped her lips as he tugged her hair gently sounded better than any heavenly choir. Not when their lips parted, a single strand of silvery saliva connected them before he kissed the corner of her lip, his mouth slowly travelling down along the path of green apple and sugar granules. Not when she whimpered just right as his tongue licked its way to the hollow of her throat, and a gentle nip accompanied by his fingers combing languidly through her locks.

“The party –”

“– Can wait. Can’t let anyone see you like this,” murmured Garreth.

The music below wandered through the bottom crack of the door louder, but he couldn’t care less. His body burned for them both, his hands the device in which he delivered reverence upon her. Reticent to let go of the hand that gave and helped students, teachers, and the rest of the wizarding world, his grip tightened as he pressed against her, the linen they wore on their very persons seemed a travesty. Even his own bed, perhaps not a few feet away, was too far.

“Garreth.”

She would see him unravel with just the breathy whisper of his name as his lips grazed back up to the sensitive spot just beneath her ear.

“Hm?”

His fingers moved from her hair as he made the minimum requirement of room to slip his hand along the middle of her abdomen, her chest, and finally reached her blouse buttons.

One. Two. Three.

Slowly her luscious skin appeared before him, another canvas to map as his tongue glided down. He groaned as he created friction between the two, his own need burning hot as he tugged the blouse from her waistband.

“Garreth–” Artemis started, her voice breathy as her free hand coaxed his shirt hem out.

“– We’ll make it quick,” he whispered against her ear before he gave a little nip.

Her warm breath tickled the shell of his ear as she nodded minutely. His hand moved to squeeze her bum.

“Troublemaker,” murmured Artemis as her hand snuck in, her cool fingertips sent a shiver up his spine as they slowly slid under his waistband, taking an excruciatingly long time to move from the small of his back to his hip.

“You love it.”

Garreth fully moved his hand and gently lifted Artemis’ leg to wrap around his waist. Her hand popped the buttons of his trousers, and bless this woman as she freed him from his own prison.

“Always,” purred Artemis as her thumb swiped at his head, already leaking with a clear bead.

“Merlin Snow,” Garreth gasped out as his hand touched the pantyhose at her ankles. “How attached are you to these?

“Not at all.”

Merlin be damned this minx.

A low growl emitted as he pulled out his wand, and wordlessly vanished the offending cloth and her undergarments for good measure. “Good.”

Her leg was softer than any silk in his grip, of which he held so tight they’d leave marks. It kept him from utterly shattering as the snow-haired beauty circled his head with her thumb. She uttered a charm under her breath, and from her palm came the sensations of incredibly warm liquid that she spread down his shaft. His other hand let go of Artemis’ against the wall in favour of reaching within her skirt toward the apex of her thighs. Her now free hand shot out toward the back of his head, her fingers now entangled with his red locks as she beckoned him back into a kiss.

Incredibly hot and wet – so above, and so below.

“Damn,” he moaned as his finger sunk into her depths, and he swallowed her moan as his tongue tangled with hers.

His hips canted as her small hand pumped his cock in the rhythm he loved, and he returned the favour as he hooked his finger inside as he slid another. The hand around his cock stuttered even as the grip in his hair tightened, her back arched as her chest pressed against his. The haze that clouded his mind lightened ever so slightly even as he burned the sight of Artemis flushed in its place.

Their gasps mixed with the beautiful obscene sounds as his fingers work her open quickly in time with the music that flowed louder from under the door. Warmth pooled within him as he panted, her hand being entirely sinful as it alternated giving his head and his shaft attention. He slipped another in and flicked up inside; her head tilted back as she gasped, offering her neck has her fingers grasped tighter in his hair.

Her wrist twisted around his cock and he groaned as he sucked something delicious at the crux of her neck. The scent of her perfume mingled with the green apple liqueur peppered with sex in the air.

Delicious. Absolutely perfect.

“I- I’m ready,” said Artemis  

Artemis’ skin bore a dark purple bruise perfectly shape where Garreth’s mouth had been; her leg hooked around the small of his back as his hand readjusted the grip. She whimpered as he kissed her temple when his fingers left the comforts of her wet folds; her skirt entirely bunched, the front of his shirt entirely a mess.

Garreth sucked off each of his fingers, the familiar taste of her on his tongue. Her forest green eyes were blow, her normally well-kept hair and attire utterly dishevelled. Her leg insisted he come closer – he obliged as fabric crumpled peripherally.

“Good girl,” he whispered against her lips as he pushed up the skirt further, readjusting his grip on her soft thigh. Pants escaped his lips as he slid his cock lightly against her wet folds, coating himself with her as her hand, that’d been so wonderfully wrapped around his cock moments ago, slipped under his shirt.

Her chest heaved in tandem with his pounding heart. Her nails ghosted his back as he lined himself to her entrance. Everything felt hot and warm and absolutely -

“Perfect,” murmured Garreth as he looked into her eyes.

They softened; he swore he saw the Slieve Guillion Forest within.

The door slammed open as the music roared.

Garreth jolted up from his waist, gasping for air as his mind scrambled. Linen bedding was under his sweaty palms as his heart beat loudly against his chest. A clear tent was pitched under the sheets as his brain caught up that no, he was not deliciously pressed against the love of his life on the wall. He was in his bed with all the deep red drapes shut, decorated with golden lions that laughed at his misery.

He was so close, he could practically feel her breath against his ear, her warmth around his fingers, her soft leg wrapped around his waist, his head lined up and -

“Garreth, you up?” Leander’s voice carried from beyond the drapery.

Garreth seriously considered violence for three seconds. He let out a grumbled noise; his cock was painfully, painfully aware it was not where it was supposed to be.

Could Leander not have waited for five bloody seconds to barge in?  

“Well hurry up. The Gryffindor-Slytherin match is going to start up in an hour, and I am not going to miss the good seats for the finals!” Leander called from beyond the proverbial veil as the cheer music bellowed from the Common Room and spilled in through the opened door.

The match. The after-party.

“The after-party’s still on, yeah?” He managed to squeeze out.

“Well, I hope so! You and Artemis are our bartenders after all.”

The concoctions were under his floorboard. He still had the green apple liqueur.

His cock twitched at the thought of what followed.

“Brilliant. Lee?”

“Yeah?” Leander’s voice came from near the other redhead’s bed. “Hurry it up, will you?”

“Sure.” He’d need less than a minute, really, once Leander stepped outside. “You mind doing bar duty tonight for a bit?”

“Yeah that’s fine.”

Brilliant.