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Breaking the Quidditch Code by Mistress
Chapter 14 : Allie-poo, Wessy Pessy, and a String Bean
 
Rating: MatureChapter Reviews: 52


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Gotta Love Quidditch Parties.
For Bertle and jennaBee. Thank you for the wonderful reviews!











The party was nothing short of complete chaos. After getting nearly beheaded by excited fans when we entered, I managed to slip through the mob and get myself something rather manly to drink. I was then forced to retell various stories from the game and I even reenacted Meta’s Snitch dive for everyone’s pleasure.

Mine was better.

I hoisted Wes up onto the table with Fred and I as we told the stories and I gave a colorful commentary of exactly what I thought about Ryan Walters. The girls laughed, the alcohol kept coming, and I felt almost like a hero. It was strange, staring out over the colors of Gryffindors with their face paint smeared onto their glasses (and some smeared onto other people’s faces) with drinks in hand, cheering up at me as if I defeated someone grand. Was this what it was like to be my father? Surely it was greater—surely he stood up on this huge platform and gave mass speeches about it. Maybe he even gave speeches at the end of every school year.

I even let Wes have the limelight for a while. He led them in a Gryffindor cheer and told the tale of how he nearly lost his breakfast while walking out to the pitch (I made a mental note to tell him puking stories were not altogether attractive to the lady population of Hogwarts). Fred clapped him hard on the back and we all laughed at his previous suffering.

Fred laughed because it was funny. I laughed because I was drunk and things were now funny.

After at least an hour of story time I jumped down off the table and left Wesley to be the object of many girls’ affection. He had several first, second, third, and fourth years making kissy faces at him which was good since I was grooming him to be my heir of the Quidditch throne. Paloma would have been a nice heir but she wasn’t very manly. Either were shots for Captain, but heir was different.

Heir was to take over the addiction of the lady population after I left, though I would send them signed posters of me posing shirtless for a Quidditch publication.

I found Avery talking with Elizabeth over by the window and hugged her around the middle. “Heya, Aves, where be the rest of our team?”

She smiled warmly at me from behind a pink drink. “I have no idea. Meta went upstairs a bit ago, thank bleeding Merlin. She’s so anti-social, not that I care since I hate her and I wish she wasn’t a halfway decent Seeker.”

“Why don’t you tell me how you really feel?” I chuckled and smiled in greeting to Elizabeth. My fingers were tingly. “Seriously, though, you know what’s really cool?”

“Hmm?”

“We won the GAME!” I cried, thrusting my cup into the air. A deafening cheer erupted behind me.

“Did we now?” Avery laughed girlishly.

“We did. We won and we smashed Kay Davies’ face into the pitch and rubbed it a bit with the ends of our broomsticks. Then we danced around her disappointed face for a while.”

“You sound really sadistic right now.”

I grinned. “Looks like Paloma is enjoying herself.”

Avery glanced over to the female Beater who was accepting several drinks from awed boys. She laughed at Wesley’s jokes and told her own story of kicking a rogue-looking Bludger away from the unsuspecting Bink. She did all this rough talk all while not chipping her nail polish and reapplying a layer of pink lip gloss. What a strange woman she was.

For once, staring at her shining dark hair and transfixing smile, I found myself not suffering from a sickening lust that usually came from seeing her. Now I saw her like I saw Lily, though a little less protective. She felt like family, like the rest of my team (Meta, though she was the black sheep, was also included in that). She looked good, healthy even.

She was pretty, but in that feminine member of your family way. Rosey was pretty too but I wasn’t looking at her.

“She does.” Avery took another sip of her drink. “I think she’s finally realizing the life of a Quidditch player, don’t you? It’s a strange one, but it’s so addicting.”

“Addicting?” I chuckled even though I knew from my own adrenaline at hearing the cheers after my own stories that she was right. “Are you saying being a Quidditch player is like having a drug? Do you think we could bottle that and sell it to less talented sods?”

She shoved me lightly. “I just mean it’s an entirely different lifestyle when you’re as involved as we are. I think she fits in nicely with our team. It’s funny, how things work out, though.”

“Funny? Like what? Like how we win the game? Oh, it’s hilarious.”

“I’m not talking about that and you know it.” Avery lowered her voice as Elizabeth turned to chat with someone else that didn’t go to Quidditch matches. “It seems funny how things work out. Usually when girls are younger they always have crushes on their older brothers’ friends. It just happens that way. And seeing as Paloma didn’t have an older brother, it makes so much sense for her to fancy you. But it’s a phase. I think she’s breaking out of it right now.”

I looked at Paloma again and now she was talking to Fred to the irritation of the clique of boys around her. “I think you’re right. It was a crazy phase, but it looks about over now, doesn’t it? Blimey, I hope so. I’m her Captain. She’s my family, that’s basically incest. I think. Plus, being against the Code it’s rather frowned upon.”

Avery squeezed my shoulders tight. “Now all you have to do is talk to Nia. She was at the game even though she’s been under the weather the last couple days. I think she’s floating around here somewhere. Oh, blast.” She looked down at her drink. “I’m going to get something else. Do you want another?”

“I’m all right for now. Losing the buzz though, so I’m sure I’ll be getting something soon.” I smiled.

“All right. Sit tight then, love, I’ll be back.” Avery turned and walked toward the makeshift bar. “Hi, Albus, enjoy the game?”

I didn’t turn around. I wanted to, but I didn’t. Plus the room was spinny and I might have fallen.

“It was a thriller, Avery. You played wonderful!”

“Thanks, some of those saves even I can’t believe. I’m on my way to get another drink, can I get you anything?”

I could hear the smile in Albus’s voice. “No, no, thanks though. I’m sure I’ll see you soon.” There was silence and he cleared his throat, next to me staring out the window. “Hey, James.”

I focused my eyes intently on the Forbidden Forest, which was ironically never really that forbidden to me since I had been in there countless times scoping things out in my seven years at Hogwarts. It was more of an Open Invitation for Chasers Forest. That name was catchy, I should send a memo to Sinatra about it. “Hey, Al. Did you go to the game?”

“You saw me at the game.”

Mental slap. Why was I nervous talking to my baby brother? Probably because I knew he was right, the sod.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re right. Sorry. Look, Al, I’m sorry.” I turned toward him and almost bit my lip before I realized it would make me look ridiculous. “I was bang out of order the other day and I didn’t handle myself well. I should handle myself like a Captain everywhere and not just on the pitch.”

Al stared at me for a minute before responding. “Look, James, I know you like Quidditch. I know it’s your life. I’m sorry for getting on you like I did, especially about you know who.”

“Voldemort?”

He rolled his eyes. “Paloma, dip shit,” he replied, almost laughing. “I’m sorry about the Paloma thing. I know you don’t fancy her. I was just jealous I think. Well, I know. Sorry for the way I acted about it, though. I guess it was just my way of letting out the way I felt about other stuff.”

“Don’t say the word “feel” or “feeling”, okay?”

“Why not?”

“Because we’re Potters and we’re men and we don’t talk about feelings.”

Al slapped me on the back. “Okay. Basically sometimes I think you think more about your Quidditch mates than your actual family.”

I took a few seconds to ingest, careful not to blow my top and actually think about what he was saying. Thinking while intoxicated was a very difficult process and required me to screw up my face before replying. “It’s hard for me since my Quidditch mates, as you call them, are like my family here. I’m just as protective over Avery as I am over Lily.”

“For an entirely different reason,” he said.

“If you mean because Lily is younger that’s bogus,” I said calmly. “You’re right, though. Sorry. I guess sometimes I am rather shit to you guys. I’ll try and be a better big brother and not take you for granted, especially since your Prefect arse will shove me in detention for dancing with your girl. Can you do me a favor though?”

“What’s that?”

“Actually I need two. I need you to keep an eye on Lily. I can’t always be the bad guy and I see your jaw twitch when blokes talk to her so you need to keep up with that.” I smiled and Albus returned it. “And can you just go talk to Paloma for a while? She has loads of annoying blokes over there when really I think she’d rather have you over there.”

He looked over, a flush rising on his cheeks. “I don’t know.”

“Do it. Trust me, just do it. Oh, and Al?”

“Yeah?” He twisted his fingers in front of him nervously.

“I’ll never admit to anyone she thought you were out of her league and I wasn’t, so don’t bother sending it around as a big-headed rumor because I know you, Al. And I’ll tell Mum.” I chuckled and shoved him toward Paloma. He took a deep breath and squeezed himself in between two guys. Immediately Paloma’s eyes widened and she said something to him.

“You and Allie-poo okay?” Bink appeared at my shoulder with a bottle of beer and a smile. “He looks legit nervous.”

“He’s going to talk to Paloma,” I replied. “Where have you been? Freddie and I were reenacting Meta’s Snitch dive.”

“I went upstairs for a bit.”

I stared at him. “Fred told me about the remedial Transfig, mate.”

Bink’s face flushed immediately. “I didn’t want—how did he find out?

“Doesn’t matter. Why didn’t you tell us?”

“It’s, well, it’s horribly embarrassing isn’t it?” He screwed up his vibrant blond hair with a hand and scrunched up his face. “What am I supposed to say? Hey, mates, after Quidditch I have to finish up some extra bleeding homework because I can’t get my kitten into a teacup? I can’t say that.”

“You can tell your friends.”

Bink stared, obviously unsure of what to do. “Sorry. I just thought I could keep it a secret and take the class and be done with it. I feel like an idiot.”

“Secrets have to come out sometime, Binkie. Do you need any help with it?”

“Don’t make me feel like a bigger idiot than I already do. I’m doing fine with it for now. If I need help I’ll probably ask Avery though considering you stepped on your kitten.”

“It was fine!” I cried, laughing. “That what you were doing upstairs then?”

“Yeah. I had to finish my essay on the whole kitten transformation thing. Finally finished it after an hour or so.” Bink glanced around the room, eyes falling on Albus and Paloma talking and the boys looking irritated at my baby brother. I felt proud. “Did you see that yet?”

“Did I see what?” I followed his eyes, now over to the refreshments table, and immediately saw what he asked if I saw. I was not pleased to see said sight.

Emerson was moving to the beat of the music, leaning suavely over the table to tell something to Avery. Merlin, I hated that sod. I knew it wasn’t right to keep hexing him and I knew one of these days Aves would hex me back and I’d have tentacles sprouting out of my elbows, but I couldn’t help it. Something in my stomach twisted up every time I saw him bat his feminine eyelashes at her. He wasn’t good enough for her.

I never really hated Emerson Edwards until our seventh year. He was a pompous sod before then, always having a go at Quidditch and at everything I loved and when he was promoted Prefect he gave me a detention every two days for leaving my socks on the floor. I was cool with the ladies and had two absolute best mates (not to mention Avery) and he was picked last for groups because he told everyone how to do everything. He never listened to other opinions. He never wanted my input on our greenhouse plants and at one point ended up with pus everywhere because of it.

That was probably the reason Emerson and I never saw eye to eye. But then I became Quidditch Captain and even though the twit could still give me detentions for hexing him off a bar stool, I had authority just below his and was listened to by the general body of students in Hogwarts. I told people what to do and they actually listened because I wasn’t a jerkoff like he was. I also knew he always fancied Avery, but that was a line he never crossed. He also knew I had a mean right hook without a wand and I figured that was something he didn’t exactly want to run into either. Fred ran into it once and slept with an ice pack for a few days.

It was this year—this year I finally gathered more authority and maxed out my lady attention skills—that Emerson Edwards finally made his move on Avery Flynn, my Keeper and my best friend. I wanted to punch his arrogant mouth. I should have told Avery all the things from years before—the way he never listened and the way once he was included he made sure he ruined everything else he was not included in. I should have told her he was so wrong for her.

But we agreed to date people, didn’t we? How could I stop her now? How could I go back on my own decision like that?

Couldn’t she just pick someone else to date?

“Hi there, Potter.” Emerson looked particularly smug after the Quidditch win even though he didn’t win the game or participate at all. “I was just telling Avery about my family’s cottage in near the Swiss Alps.”

“How interesting,” I said, nearly snorting at the lack of interest in the story. “Could I have a word with Avery, Edwards?”

He raised a brow. “Sorry, I was in the middle of a conversation. It’ll need to wait, string bean.”

I was unsure of why he said it. I wasn’t super skinny. I was a slender build, like my father, but meatier from his Hogwarts days because apparently he never ate during the summers. I always ate during the summers. My stomach was muscular and my arms were larger than his and yet I was a string bean? He was…well, he was fat then.

“String bean, No-Head Boy? Why the hostility?” I stuck a nearby toothpick into his drink. “Run along, twit. I’m busy being the hero of the Quidditch game.” Avery disguised her chuckle as a cough.

“You can’t play big brother forever, Potter,” Emerson spat. “One of these days you aren’t going to be around to drink girl drinks and slobber all over women.”

“Drink girl drinks?” How dare that monkey question my masculinity? I was the Quidditch Captain. He should have been informed of that. Should have written that memo I planned. I was more masculine than wrestlers, for Merlin’s sake—more masculine than steak and potatoes! “You have an orange drink with ice in your hand! Get out of here, Edwards or I’ll feed your pretty gray dress to Victoria too!”

“It was you! I knew it was you!” Emerson cried. “How did that purple stain get on the front?”

I turned toward Avery. “Can we talk somewhere?”

“I’m not done with you, Potter! You stole from me!”

“Bugger off or I’ll come up with another nickname for you playing off the word head.” I flicked my hand out a bit to shoo him away but he wouldn’t budge. He was rather annoying while drinking and I could smell the cranberry vodka on his breath. I wondered how much mine smelled. Probably like manly drink. “What’s wrong with you? Why are you still hovering over me with your gob hanging open? Want a kiss? I don’t swerve that way on the pitch, mate.”

“You stole property from me, Potter.”

“I didn’t steal anything.”

“You stole property and now you’re trying to steal Avery away from me and our conversation.”

“Avery isn’t something that can be stolen, get that through your head right bleeding now.” My voice rose quite a bit and Bink stared from his seat on the spiral staircase. He even mimed eating popcorn as a form of entertainment. “She’s a respectable woman and can make her own choices. You treat her like a prize to be won—I’ll hex you if you ever talk about her like that again—like she’s a little gold trophy you win. That’s how you beat me, is it, Edwards? That’s how you finally beat James Potter? You’re a fucking twit.”

“You’re drunk, Potter. Avery clearly doesn’t want to talk to you. I don’t want to talk to you. Move along and go wank off to Quidditch magazines.”

I punched Emerson Edwards square in the mouth.

Hurt my hand a bit too, effing shit brick.

He landed like a ton of Bludgers on the refreshment table, sending bottles of gin and firewhiskey flying and crashing onto the floor. The punch bowl spilled onto him, making him a big pink sticky mess with angry slits for eyes. Avery gaped at me, barely moving.

“She’s way too good for you!” I cried, my hands balled into fists as I shook, staring at him. “She’s not just some girl you can toy around with. She’s my best mate. If you so much as look at her, you have to go through me first.”

“Go through you?” Emerson huffed. “And you say Avery makes her own choices? You’re such a shit head, James Potter. You hover over her more than your little sister or you’d notice Lily’s being macked on by your Beater. What do you have for your plain best mate?”

“Plain?” I ignored the sentiment about my sister since after hearing Emerson’s speech in the quiet room Wesley probably tripped over himself rushing away from Lily. “I’ll punch you again! How can you say plain when she’s standing next to you? How can you say plain when she’s clearly the most attractive girl in all of Hogwarts! She’s fucking beautiful, you sick sod! You take that back right now!”

Instead of taking it back, however, Emerson Edwards tossed his empty glass to the side and lunged at me, grabbing me around the middle and slamming me back into the side of a sofa. Pain exploded in my back, but after being punched in the chest I landed a few more on the out-of-shape Head Boy (thank God because he was bigger than me) and we rolled backward toward the window.

A circle developed around us and I could hear chants of names and bets—it might have been Fred starting an entire betting pool based on height and weight with a Sickle buy in. I felt my head whip back and realized the git grabbed my hair and then managed to punch my stomach hard, sending me off him and into another velvet chair.

I ran at him as he did the same and I could see the seven years of built-up anger in his stupid Head-Boy eyes. I pulled back my fist, ready for full contact, when I bounced backward and landed on charmed pillows. I glanced up. Emerson was on another pile of pillows several meters away.

Avery stood between us. “No. You two aren’t going to fight. Not at a party for the Quidditch game. You can either take it outside or enjoy the party and not talk to each other. And I’ll make this quite simple.” She placed her hands on her hips and stared fiercely at each of us. “I’m not talking to either of you. So Emerson, tell someone else about your Swiss Alp cottage and James whatever you wanted to talk about will just have to wait. Freddie, would you like to pour me a drink from this mess?”

Fred jumped up, giving people money that called a draw or Avery as the winner, and rushed over to find some alcohol that didn’t break.

I groaned, carefully hoisting myself up with Bink’s help. My stomach burned and I knew there’d be several bruises in the morning between that, my sides, and the random punches the git got on my chest—I was fairly certain he kicked me once or twice too. At least, I noticed, he looked far worse than I did since a shiner was already developing around his left eye.

I sank down onto a sofa, trying desperately to look better than I felt, and made a face.

“Pretty decent showing,” Bink said, handing me his drink so ease the pain.

I wasn’t drunk enough. I should have drunk more so I’d feel less. Noted.

Frustrated with pain, Avery, Emerson, and life in general, I pulled out my wand and shot a jelly-legs curse at Wesley.





I wondered heavily about the velvet texture of the couch I sank into. It seemed so strange when I ran my fingers up and down its surface after another drink of firewhiskey. Bink vanished a bit ago to join Fred in a duet about Paloma’s hair and I decline the offer of a triocet or whatever the word was because I couldn’t tell which was Fred and which was Bink.

The room felt a little fuzzy. Or seemed, but I felt I could feel the fuzz around me and it was relatively soft fuzz.

“James Potter, where have you been all my life?”

I tried thinking of an answer to that question as Nia flopped down beside me and kicked her legs up onto a coffee table. I’d been at Hogwarts for a good deal of it, though not quite half because I was a child once with iddle diapers and a cute crop of freckles all over my puffy cheeks. I’d been at home for most of that life too. The dormitory—I spent a good deal of nights there.

I was fairly certain Nia knew where I’d been all her life.

“You look sick, are you okay?” She placed her palm on my forehead.

“I’m okay. Examining this intricate velvet here.”

“Oh, you’re very drunk, I can hardly understand what you’re saying.”

I groaned. Flirtatious gradeous Nia was not exactly what I needed while intoxicated considering she was the kind of girl to take advantage of a poor Quidditch Captain like myself. I remembered her costume from Halloween and then immediately thought of dog poo to stop myself from thinking.

It didn’t really work.

“I’m so excited for this weekend,” she continued, clasping her freshly manicured hands together. “It’ll be great. I’m thinking we really go all out and go to Madam Puddifoots.”

“What’s this weekend? Conference or something?” I felt drool slide out of my mouth.

“No, silly, it’s the first Hogsmeade weekend since Halloween—it’s our date!”

Thinking gone anyway.

Nia looked positively elated. “Remember at the party? You asked me on a date to be chivalrous since we were taking things a little fast. Of course I wanted to just jump your bone but you just wouldn’t have that. You’re such a gentleman, James, that’s part of the reason I think we fancy each other just so much. We’re so different!”

I felt sick at that point, staring over at the four Nia’s occupying the sofa beside me. A date? When did I agree on a date? I knew I wanted to date at one point but was Nia really the first girl I asked? I felt maybe Elizabeth was a worthier candidate considering she didn’t attempt to fuck me every time we talked.

Why was I complaining about this? What kind of bloke was I, seriously?

“Oh. Yes, that date. I remember—of course I do. I’m a gentleman, remember?” I tried to smile but I felt more drool make its way out of my mouth. “Yeah. We’ll talk about it later. I’m a bit—I’m a bit intoxicated to discuss matters at the moment.”

Nia grinned. “You’re so wonderful, James Potter. I can’t wait until the day I finally get your clothes off.” She paused and put a hand on my butt, squeezing hard. “I’m going to get a few drinks, all right? Will you be okay by yourself?”

“Sure beans low means,” I mumbled, head squished against the fabric. I had no idea what that meant but it sounded legit. She walked away and someone else sat down next to me.

“I talked to her,” Al whispered. “I talked to her and she talked back and I think she may have blushed but that might have been the alcohol.”

“How many death glares did you get?” I said, snickering. The room was still moving but I sat up.

“After we kept talking for a while most of them left. But she totally stopped talking to them and talked to me all about the game and other stuff about her—I know her favorite color.” He looked giddy with happiness. “It’s orange by the way. It’s orange.”

“Well, you can use that when you buy a five-year anniversary present. Make it something sexy like lingerie.”

“You’re drunk, James.” Albus was laughing.

“I don’t understand how you can tell.”

“You’re slurring every single word.” He shoved me slightly. “I can’t believe I talked to her. This night is amazing. What were you and Nia talking about?”

“Dirty shower sex,” I mumbled.

“You were not.”

“I was so. She initiated it.” I hic-cupped. “Seriously. Not really, I’m lying, but seriously. I’m glad things went well. When’s the wedding?”

Al hit me but smiled at the same time. “All right, I’m heading off I think. I promised Rose a walk and a chat about you know who so I’ll see you later. Have fun, James, don’t drink too much or Nia might just corner you before that date.”

“How did you know about the damn date?”

“Everyone knows about the date. She’s been bragging about it for the whole week.”

I groaned. “Can I just play Quidditch all day and avoid everyone else at all costs?”

He patted by back. “Yeah, sure. Go for it.”

“Hey—wait a minute.” I grabbed Al’s shirt. “Have you seen Edwards?”

The smile was immediate. “He went upstairs with some ice after the fight and never came back down.”

“That’s what I like to hear.”





After Fred and Bink had their duet and Wesley tried to talk to Lily without me seeing, I was joined by the three of them next to the giant window. Fred and Bink flanked me, each with determined expressions on their faces, and Wesley sat in front of us, back to the window, looking particularly nervous.

“All right, Wessy,” Fred said loudly, clasping his hands together. “This is one of the many lessons you are going to get on the ways to be a Quidditch player.”

“Male Quidditch player,” Bink corrected. “Okay, Wessy Pessy.”

“That nickname might stick,” I wondered out loud.

“Try it again,” said Fred.

“Wessy Pessy.” Bink wrinkled his nose.

“Nope,” I said. “Carry on.”

“Okay, Wesley, here’s your first bit of advice.” He was practically beaming. “I want you to look behind me. Look at Elizabeth. Then look at Mary. Then look at Nia. And then—shut up, James—look at Avery. What do they all have in common?”

Wesley thought hard. “They’re women.”

“Not shit, God James what kind of Beater did you pick out I thought he was smart,” Bink said. “What else do they have in common? Don’t say they’re Gryffindors or they’re in this room or they are seventh years.”

“Um…well, they all…I can’t talk about this.”

“You’re a man, Wesley.”

“Can we cut Avery out of this so James doesn’t give me an Emerson-punch?” Wesley nearly squeaked.

Could I copyright that Emerson-punch deal?

I could just picture little first years talking in their prepubescent voices about giving their teachers a serious Emerson-punch.

Bink roared with laughter. “Consider her cut. Sub in Daphne Reynolds.”

“They all have—blimey, they all have rather large…you know. In the chest.” He blushed furiously.

“Good job, Wes!” I cheered, patting him on the arm. “It’s okay to stare. They actually like the attention. If they catch you pretend to take a hair off their shirt or something. Now this part if very important, listen carefully.”

“Women are smart,” said Fred, obviously bitter by his expression. “They know when you’re up to something and they know when you’re lusting like a dog in heat.”

“That’s how Kay knows when to ask him for pitch sex,” Bink muttered, snickering.

“So they’re onto you if you’re trying to be sneaky,” I continued.

“They’re always onto you really,” Fred added.

“So what you have to do is come up with codenames for things so they don’t know you and your mates are talking about things that could get you, well, hit. Hard.”

“There is a codename for breasts?” For the final word he lowered his voice to barely a whisper.

“It’s called grades, mate,” I said. “If a girl has good grades it means she has large gazongas and it doesn’t sound as perverted as gazongas, you know? Careful to only use it around the mates and don’t go telling any girls about it.”

“Like James did to Avery,” Bink said nonchalantly and I shoved him.

“So now, little grasshopper,” Fred said, “you know some of the ways of the Quidditch male. More will come with time, but you’re not ready for that quite yet—you’ve only just won your first game.”

“I feel empowered,” Wesley said, staring around the room. “Now I can just talk about Rose’s grades and she’ll never know.”

“No you can’t that’s my cousin, git,” I growled. “Talk about people not related to me and not on the team. That’s fine.”

Wesley took a sip of his drink. He looked like a man, like an arrogant good-heir man and I enjoyed it a lot. He even puffed up his chest a bit. “So Lily is off limits, is she?”

“She’s bleeding thirteen, you perverted son of a bitch!” Another jelly-legs curse occupied him for a while as the Chasers and I enjoyed the hazy sunset over the Forbidden Forest.









A/N: So here's a present since I'm off for the weekend to get a tan and relax! A little update--I got a new laptop and I'm in the process of transferring over all of my files but that shouldn't delay anything. I hope you all enjoyed the chapter, this one was a fun one to write, especially with Emerson getting punched. :) Gotta love a little violence that doesn't deal with wands.

Updates should be on time. I go back to school for training the 9th of August to be a SENIOR in COLLEGE (whoooo). When does everyone else go back?

How about that Ryan Walters? oh, silly puffs.


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