The library of Hogwarts had a special kind of quiet that couldn’t be broken no matter how hard you tried. Random explosions occurred often enough but were silenced almost immediately, allowing the bookcases upon bookcases to suffocate any disturbance. Therese found the library to be her most visited place in Hogwarts, not because of the texts and information to be found there, but for the escape from the trials and tribulations of her year mates.

She was supportive of all of them, there was no doubt, but they grew tiring. There was nothing more exhausting than a group of pureblood Slytherins, and Therese could hardly handle the personalities outside of the castle walls. Having to share a dorm with Matilda Rowle was enough to give a person a headache for a lifetime, and then she had the likes of Orpheus Travers to deal as well. Travers was the worst of the boys in her year; he walked with a certain superiority that the others often tried to duplicate but couldn’t. It wasn’t an appealing trait, at least not to Therese...he was unnerving to her, and she tried her best to stay away as he particularly found it fun to turn his advances on her.

Therese had decided early on that she would not date any of the boys in her year. It would cause too many problems, and her theory was proven right by Matilda’s daily rages. She wanted these boys on her side for as long as possible; they were loyal, but to a point. It was when Orpheus began cornering her in the corridors that her six year long attempt to avoid these Slytherin boys began to go awry. She had found that the library was her best hiding spot and kept herself to the twists and turns of the history of magic section.

Her nose was deep into a book about Rowena Ravenclaw’s early life when he accosted her. Therese dropped the tome in surprise at Orpheus’ sudden appearance and tight grip on her wrist.

“You really shouldn’t be hiding in dark corners by yourself,” he said, dropping her hand. Therese backed into the bookcase, eyes wide with surprise.

“Was that necessary?” she let out with a heavy breath, not daring to bend down to get her book back. What was he thinking, grabbing hold of her like that? He shouldn’t be allowed to wander about by himself, he created too much unsettling air. Orpheus grinned, putting his hand up on the bookcase to block her from leaving.

“I don’t particularly like that you ignore me so easily,” he said, ignoring her question with his own statement. Therese felt her face flush but she kept a stiff expression on her face, “It’s almost as if you think you’re allowed to keep me from getting what I want.”

Her hands went up immediately to push hard against his chest and his smile just widened, “Orpheus, if you don’t leave me alone I will scream.”

“Good,” he stated simply before lurching forward. Therese sucked in a breath, her hand shooting up to push his face away from her but he quickly grabbed hold of both her hands. Her scream was caught in her throat, nothing like this had ever happened to her before and they were in the library of all places. Therese let out a strangled, scared sound and shut her eyes as she twisted away from him.

“Get off of me!” she finally let out, and with a stroke of panic she thrust her knee straight between Orpheus’ legs. He didn’t get the chance to shout out in pain as a thin wire had shot out of seemingly no where and gone tight around his neck. Therese gasped and followed the wire--- “Caradoc, don’t!”

Caradoc Dearborn had found a spell earlier in the year that he used to trip and tie up his unsuspecting victims. Normally the targets were the legs of annoying Gryffindors, but his aim seemed to have improved because Orpheus’ hands were now prying at the wire that seemed to be tightening around his neck. The cold, hard look on Caradoc’s face nearly startled her as much as Orpheus had, and it took her a few seconds to compose herself. She rushed to him, grabbing hold of his wand arm.

“Don’t,” she pleaded softly. It would be easy for Orpheus to deny that he’d even touched Therese, but the marks the wire could make would leave no question of Caradoc’s guilt. Therese put a hand to her friend’s chest to try and calm him, “Just let him go.”

Caradoc let out a gruff sound, “He’s been pulling this shit all year,” he said, but with a flick of his wrist the wire snapped back into his wand and Orpheus let out a gasp of air. He glared hard at Therese and Caradoc before pushing himself to his feet and storming away. Therese pressed her forhead into Caradoc’s shoulder and let out a breath.

“Are you all right? He’s such a bloody ponce,” Caradoc snapped, his arm going protectively around her shoulders. She nodded against him, though she felt ready to be sick. Hopefully Orpheus had learned his lesson, but Therese highly doubted that. She felt Caradoc’s gaze on her, expectant of a more solid answer than just her slight, unsure nod.

Therese felt her shoulders sag in relief and pushed up on her toes to kiss him. He would be the first and last of the Slytherin boys that would ever capture her lips. Therese dropped down, amused by his stunned expression, “Thank you.”

“Is that how you thank all the---”

“Shut it while you’re ahead.”

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She was deeply questioning her decision making as she watched Rémy look over the collection of texts on her bookshelf. He'd sweet-talked her receptionist into telling him where Therese's office was, and his sudden appearance startled her enough to let him in. She was now sitting behind her desk, unsure of what to say, or do, or---what was he doing here?

"Is there something I can help you with?" she said, managing to get something out. Therese kept a hard gaze on his back, and straightened her shoulders as Rémy turned around to face her. He looked thoughtful, but a smile grew on his face and she wasn't sure how to read it. She had never been able to understand him as fully as she did with everyone else in her life, but maybe that was because he'd never actually been true to her. Her face reddened at the thought and watched him take the seat in front of her desk.

"My book will be coming out next month, I thought I should let you know," he said lazily. Therese wasn't sure how she managed to keep her expression even, as her heart began to pound and race uncontrollably. That book which made her a bloody character, a bloody foolish character in the apparently spectacular double life Rémy had led without her knowing. She'd agreed to...certain terms, because if she didn't he would have simply used his imagination and it would not have been hard to trace back to her the ridiculous girl he could have made up. Rémy used to spend time with her friends, with her family; it would not go unnoticed by any of them that he was now a published author, and Therese believed she could at least have the truth printed instead of some truly scandalous lie.

"Congratulations," she said flatly, keeping her hands folded on top of each other on her desk, "I won't be needing an autographed copy."

He laughed, and it filled her mind with memories of how he used to find her so funny; had he ever really thought of her in a positive light? Did he actually ever grow feelings for her, or was it all an act to get closer to her circle of friends, the ones behind the death eater masks? Therese knew that questioning the past and wondering, regretting ever being in this relationship would not change the past, but when he was sitting just a foot in front of her with that grin she couldn't stop herself. It was like there was some sort of unbreakable spell he had on her, no matter how long she went without seeing him, just one look reverted her into the brokenhearted, banished girl he'd left behind in their flat that January morning.

"You do not want to read it?"

"No, as I'm sure your fiancee wouldn't wish to either," Therese snapped back. As much as she had hated the other woman, Colette had been just as betrayed as she had. This man wasn't a hero outside of his work as an auror, and she hated that he was being praised by allowing this book to be published.

"My darling knows everything, and has the entire time," Rémy said, smoothing out the front of his robes, "I am sorry that you English cannot understand the lines between duty and the home."

She felt the blood drain from her face, and by the lighting up of Rémy's eyes she knew that he noticed her pale too. Was she really the only fool in this equation? Therese blinked a few times, trying to force herself back into a place of power, but was finding the effort fruitless.

"Is that all you wanted to say to me?" she said, unable to look at him anymore. Her eyes focused on the shamrock pin that was stuck to a picture frame and she felt some blood rush back to her cheeks. She had moved on, she was in a better place, she was having fun once again. Therese hadn't had fun in years, and just because Rémy decided to rub in her face that he was the reason behind it shouldn't stop her.

"Are you with him?"

Her eyes were forced to look back at him, and Therese couldn't keep the confusion off of her face. The shamrock could have been from anything, it did not have a Kestrels logo, it was not---

"Excuse me?"

"The quidditch player, are you with him?" Rémy clarified, though it didn't help her at all. She didn't have to explain a thing to him, he shouldn't even care, he shouldn't even know, and quite suddenly Therese felt a panic that needed him removed from her office at once. "That means yes, you blink quite furiously when you are lying."

"I didn't----we're not," she responded honestly, shaking her head. She should not have given him an answer, but Rémy forced things out of her in a way she could not control. He watched her for a moment, his eyes calculating, almost as if he was having trouble understanding her words. She was telling him the truth, she and Rupert were not together in that sense, so there was not a lie to read on her face. She watched as Rémy stood without a word, his hands clasping his robes together slowly, precisely. His slow movements worried her, but she'd made it out of this confrontation rather unscathed save for the fact that he somehow knew about Rupert.

"I would have thought you would be smarter, Therese," he said with a disapproving twist of his lips, "but to be some quidditch player's whore? That is shameful, you are better than that. Have a good day."

He moved so quickly out the door that she barely got to react to his words, to gape at his accusation, to---let it all sink in. Therese felt that he may as well have shot a stunning spell to her chest from point-blank range, he---She jumped as the door slammed behind him and her eyes shut tightly, trying to force away his words, his face, everything about the man who had ruined her life and was now trying to do it once more. Her hands balled into fists and were pressed to her forehead, trying desperately to go back in time and lock her office door, to never have signed those papers, to have completely ignored him that summer day in Paris. The biggest regret of her life was being kind to a handsome man on the streets of her favorite city. How could she have known?

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She hummed in the back of her throat as he sucked on her neck. Therese's hands gripped on clasps of his robes, knowing that they didn't have much time, but sometimes hard and fast was the best way to go---that was one of Rupert's favorite quidditch analogies, she thought to herself; she would have to tell him her thoughts afterwards. Not now, talking ruined things, there was never room for talking. It had become routine to wear a skirt whenever she was going to see Rupert, and the feel of his hands running up her thighs, bringing the fabric up to her waist was so damn---

"How could you?!"

Therese let out a strange sound, from shock from--being dropped back down to the floor by Rupert, by the sudden brightness----this was a broom closet, there was no reason for such light, why was it so cold----Therese gasped, clutching the very exposed front of her robes together as she blinked against the lights.

"SPINNET!" Rupert roared, not bothering to button back up but his feet got caught in some clothing that had been removed earlier. Therese felt her face grow a deep, dark, hugely embarrassed red at the expression of pure glee on Charlie Spinnet's face. His faux-sense of heartbreak made her want to strangle him, and she watched as Rupert shoved him in the shoulder.

"But-but--Healer Bonaccord," Spinnet let out, sounding like he was trying to hold back laughter and tears, "I thought we had something."

"If you do not leave your head---I will have it!"

"Looks like you've already---OW! OW! AXE!"

All she could do was bury her face in her hands. In all the random, not so discreet places that she and Rupert had---relations (Merlin, they were about to against some of his team's brooms, and now she couldn't even silently admit that they shagged), this hadn't been one of the strangest, but it was proving to be the worst decision ever. She had come to talk to the management about some on-site evaluations, but the powers-that-be were running late in another meeting, and Rupert always did have the best of ideas on how to kill time. This was just---turning out to not be one of his best ones.

"All that talk about how I should believe in myself," Charlie moaned, and he blew some more kisses before he was forcefully removed from the broom closet, the sound of quaffles getting knocked off a rack being heard outside the door Rupert had slammed shut. They were in the dark once again, but Therese couldn't particularly tell because her eyes had not opened and her hands had not moved from her face. She dropped back against the wall, tipping some brooms off their hooks in the process.

"The fool is gone," Rupert announced, his voice growing closer. Therese shook her head, unable to even think about leaving this closet, ever. It was one thing for random strangers to interrupt their sessions, but Spinnet was a patient of hers, he was Rupert's teammate, and he would never take her seriously again, he would have to go to someone else's service because she could not be taken seriously after he'd seen her like---

He took hold of her wrists and she struggled against his pull for a few seconds before letting her hands drop. Therese stared, well, blinked until her eyes adjusted to the dark, at him and let out a breath.

"That was horrifying," she groaned, still feeling ready to disappear into the dark shadows of the closet for the rest of her days.

"He is an idiot," Rupert said with a cluck of his tongue, "and jealous that I do not let him bring his own plaything into the stadium. 'Bad luck charm.'"

"Is that what I am?" she asked, her eyes shutting once again, but this time not from embarrassment. His hands had moved to her neck, to her shoulders as they slid under her cloak once more, "A plaything?"

"Ma chérie," he began sweetly, "would I keep a bad luck charm around?"

Therese moved to mention that he still hadn't rebutted the 'plaything' title, but as he picked up right where they had been interrupted, she decided she didn't mind it as much as she thought.

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The air smelled different in Paris. Therese would not explain what caused it because she would not do the city justice. She stared out down the busy street, taking in the chatter and movement of those strangers passing by. Her eyes would lock on to a face in the crowd and follow them for a few quick moments before they disappeared, and her thoughts were left wondering, lingering about what their story was. Where was he going, why did she wear that dress, was there a reason for that smile?

Therese idly stirred the spoon in her coffee, her mind losing itself in the sea of people. She didn’t want to think about how her trips to Paris were now going to be few and far between with her new job starting; she’d made the trip every summer since she was eleven, and now would have to schedule herself around the quidditch season and the hospital. It saddened her, but it made her put forth a greater effort to make this trip the best she’d ever taken.

“Excusez-moi?” Her eyes darted forward and Therese hid the startled feeling she had at the sight of a muggle man she didn’t know sitting at her small, two-person table. She didn’t respond at first, and looked from side to side to see if he may have taken the wrong seat, but when she looked back at him he was grinning widely. Therese held back a blush, and her eyebrows rose, “Est-ce que cette place est occupée?”

She considered his question; did she want to ruin her peaceful afternoon of people watching by allowing this muggle to pull up a chair and chat her up? Therese knew she could always feign a lack of knowledge in the French language, but something about his smile made her reconsider. She did want to make this trip memorable, and how much more memorable could you get than a handsome French man just swooping into your life?

Her hand went out in an offering of the chair, even though he had already taken it. The man’s smile brightened even more, and Therese found herself feeling a bit charmed. It was always a good surprise when you caught someone’s attention when you weren’t looking for it.

“You are not from here,” he said, his accent thick. Therese straightened her shoulders, wondering what had given her away. Her French was flawless, and she hadn’t even said a word to him, so how had he known? He waved a hand toward her, “It is your taches de rousseur that give you away.”

Now she was not able to hold back a blush and Therese looked away, shaking her head. Her mother’s strong, Irish genes often came back to haunt her at times when she had no desire to exploit that side of her heritage. Why would she want anyone to think she was something of a tourist, who didn’t know the lay of the city and could not carry herself among its streets? Therese felt more at home in Paris than she ever did back in Ireland, she often dreamed herself to be living in the cloud scraping towers of Beauxbatons instead of the dungeons of Slytherin. It bothered her that he chose to point out that she was not truly part of the city, and Therese let out a breath.

“I was just leaving,” she snapped, too bothered by him to respond in French. Part of her didn’t want to give him a taste of her flawless accent and she did not want to feel as if she were trying to prove anything to him. She stood, but he stood along with her, his hand going out again.

“But we have just met!” he exclaimed, that smirk still playing on his face. Therese did not know what was more bothersome: the fact that he could see right through her or that he had been smiling about it the whole time. Why had he been paying such close attention to her freckles, anyway? “You do not even know my name, I think that is rude.”

“Rude?” Therese let out, astonished that he dared to have the gall to call her such a thing! “You planted yourself at my table, you point out the blemishes on my face---“

“Blemishes! I do not think you know what that word means,” he said with a sagely nod, following her as she made her way through the tables of the sidewalk café. Therese shook her head, letting out a scoff of a laugh at his words. The man jumped, skipped ahead of her and blocked the gate that would let her out into the street. Therese wasn’t sure why no one had asked her if this man was harassing her, and she put her hands on her hips, striking a very annoyed, irritated pose. “They are interesting; I would like to stare at them more.”

“That’s the worse pick up line I’ve ever heard,” Therese flat out told him, shaking her head. She could not even be moved that he found her freckles ‘interesting’ as he said, and gestured for him to move. When he didn’t, Therese let out a loud breath and slipped her hand into her bag, ready to shoot a quick jinx to make him jolt away and forget he’d ever harassed her, “Give me one good reason not to smack you away.”

Her hand tightened its grip around the handle of her wand as he leaned forward, still smiling. Therese kept her eyes locked on his, ready to dart away if he made any sudden movements. Instead of leaving, however, his hand rose up and he pulled open his vest, sending her a wink before looking down. Her gaze followed his, and she was surprised to see a wand secured tightly within an inner pocket.

“How did you…?” Therese was more startled by his ability to mark her as a witch than as ‘tourist,’ and stood in front of him, stunned. He’d just revealed his wand to a complete stranger, she could’ve been a muggle and not had any idea what he was doing…she was nowhere near the wizarding areas of Paris, how had he known?

He moved forward and looped his arm through hers, patting her hand in an almost sympathetic way. She was marveled by his boldness and because of it she allowed him to lead her out onto the pavement, and into the sea of people she had just been watching.

“Je m'appelle Rémy,” he said, and Therese suddenly felt like his smile was handsomer than it had been a few seconds ago, “I believe we have much more in common than you may think.”

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Therese stared miserably across the grounds of Hogwarts, eyes blurry with the tears that had yet to fall. She refused to cry, she had told her papa she was not going to cry. The first year scowled at the thought of her father as she sat hunched over on the steps of the Grand Entrance. How could her parents have thought that this place was better for her than Beauxbatons? How could her papa let her mother convince him that Hogwarts was the best choice? Therese had grown up on the streets of Paris, she only spoke English with her mother and when they visited the the MacDougal side of the family in Ireland. How could they send her to this place where nothing was like her home, where--where the people looked at her funny because they supposedly could not understand what she was saying?

They sounded like fools. Therese had not met one person in the week she had been here that she could deem friendly. Her one roommate was kind, Mackenzie, but the third girl in the dorm seemed to live to make everyone’s lives a living hell and would not allow them any time alone to begin to socialize.

Matilda Rowle was actually the reason Therese was out on the steps contemplating making a run for Hogsmeade to take a train far, far away from Hogwarts. They had been trying to study in the common room and while Therese was usually rather focused on her schoolwork, there had been a certain boy that had caught her attention and she couldn’t focus. She knew it was silly; he was a seventh year prefect that had no idea she even existed, but she knew he existed and that was enough to keep her attention away from her transfiguration assignment.

Instead of focusing on her work, Matilda had spotted where Therese’s attention laid and had announced quite loudly, “Stop staring at Lynch, Therese! He has a girlfriend!”

Instinct had taken over, and instead of telling Matilda to be quiet, Therese had snapped, “He does not!”

Oh, the common room had found that to be quite a riot.

Therese had spilled so much ink on herself that her hands were still wet and perfectly black. She tried to wipe them on the grass but it wasn’t working, and she’d run out of the common room so quickly that she had left her wand. Even if she wanted to run away from this wretched school, she would not make it very far without her wand.

She huffed, dropping her head to her knees and finding herself unconcerned about the ink she was getting all over her robes. When she was sure that the common room would be cleared, Therese would sneak back in and write a letter home, demanding that her parents come pick her up and send an owl directly to the headmaster of Beauxbatons. They’ll have to do it, she was not going to do an inch of homework until her parents agreed----

“Therese?”

The familiar, handsome voice that came from behind her made the first year stiffen. Therese didn’t dare look over her shoulder, as her face was now a deep, deep red and her eyes were still brimming with tears. She heard his footsteps come closer and a moment later Ewan Lynch was sitting beside her on the step.

“Are you all right? You ran out of the common room rather quickly,” Ewan said, and Therese could see his smile out of the corner of her eye. She kept her head ducked, wondering if she could act as if she hadn’t heard him and he would leave. How could she possibly face him? “That friend of yours is a bit loud, isn’t she?”

“She’s une grosse tête,” Therese mumbled, once again not realizing she had slipped into French. Ewan let out a laugh.

“Does that---does that mean ‘big head’? That she’s a big head?”

Therese’s head snapped toward him, eyes wide with surprise. A few tears dripped down her cheeks, but she wiped them away quickly, “You speak French?”

He held up his hands, his thumb and pointer finger bent closely together, “Très peu,” Ewan said with a smile. “I wish to go into business, so I’m trying to learn a few different languages.”

“I can help you with French,” Therese blurted, sitting up straighter. Ewan’s eyes crinkled with his smile and with how hard her heart was pounding, she was sure she was in love.

“That would be great, I can use all the help I could get!” Ewan stood then, putting his hand out to her to help her stand. Therese hesitated and showed him her inky hands, but to her surprise Ewan just plucked her hand into his. “Let’s get you cleaned up, all right?”

Therese nodded numbly, following after Ewan in awe and adoration.

Maybe she would give Hogwarts one more week.

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She sat, prim and proper, on the edge of a chair outside an examination room. Therese’s hands were folded on her lap, legs crossed at the ankles, and if weren’t for the bruises that were now slowly forming around her neck a passerby may have thought she was awaiting the wonderful announcement of a new baby’s arrival. There was something in her eyes that was being misconstrued as excitement and her rapt attention to everything going on around her made healers, nurses, and fellow patients underestimate the severity of her injuries.

Her eyes darted towards her co-worker, who was speaking quickly and with wild hand gestures to a fellow healer.

“We’ve already spoken to the hitwizards, they’ve---that’s what I said, but----we don’t want to take up rooms for patients who need it.”

Therese let out a long breath from her nose, keeping her attention focused on the other side of the hall as Ralph assured the healer that she was fine and would be taken care of after everything was settled. ‘Settled’ meaning that it would be safe to return to her flat because one of the initial thoughts of the lead hitwizard was that Remy was not a fool. There was a great chance that her flat had been set with hexes and traps and before she could be discharged from St. Mungo’s it needed to be examined thoroughly.

Her tongue twisted against the inside of her cheek at the thought of that disgusting man invading her flat, her home. She was not going to let Remy ruin one more minute of her life. He’d destroyed the office she had worked very hard for, he had taken it upon himself to seemingly claim her, and now her newly found friend and coworker would never see her the same again.

She was some delusional man’s target. A prize. Something that he’d been denied.

Therese’s thoughts continued down this destructive path and her vision went blurry from staring blankly at the same spot across the hallway for far too long. Her posture was slowly losing its sturdiness, her ankles had unlocked, and her hands had taken hold of the arms of the chair. Exhaustion and fatigue were beginning to set in, and soon she would simply be too tired to protest the healer’s desire to examine her. She was as fine as she was going to ever be, it felt, and she didn’t want them wasting their time on her.

“Unless you’ve been living under a rock,” a familiar voice boomed from the nurse’s station, making Therese sit up and stare peculiarly down the dimly lit hall, “I’m a bloody famous quidditch player and I can do as I wish!”

She shook her head, standing and rubbing at her face as she made her way down the hall. She hadn’t expected him to come so quickly, but now that he was here she couldn’t reach him fast enough. Therese blinked at the bright lights of the nurse’s station, appearing from around the corner. Her eyes didn’t have time to adjust to the light before there were arms around her shoulders in a tight embrace. Therese shut her eyes and reveled in the warmth of Michal Conway’s chest.

His hands went to her face, and with a few frowns he’d effectively analyzed her current state and put his arms around her once again. Those few brief moments of being held in the gentle fashion, being able to see the concern in his eyes and the honest relief that she wasn’t terribly hurt allowed the tightness in her chest to finally give some slack and allow her to begin to unwind, to breathe again. It felt good to know that she’d be able to breathe again.

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Therese let out a pleased whimper as her back pressed harder into the tree, the bark scraping her shoulder blades. Michal’s tight one-armed grip around her waist held her in place and his teeth sunk into her shoulder as she hooked her leg around his. His free hand raced underneath her thigh to position her perfectly and precariously against him, and she was awash with satisfaction as they finally submitted to this urgent haste of desire...

...they had been at the party for fifteen minutes. There had been no speeches, no gift giving or toasts. The Mattias’ just wished for their friends and family to have a nice night, and the entertainment of a live band and a beautiful garden to explore was more than enough for that. Therese had struck up a conversation with a former teammate of Adrian’s because he’d been seated at the same table, but before she could properly introduce herself, Michal’s hand on her knee raced up her thigh and under her skirt. It took a lot to maintain composure as his hands took generous liberties with how much cover the tablecloth was giving her already short skirt, and it wasn’t until he’d leaned over and all but began to suck on her neck that she finally had to excuse them from the table.

She’d only been embarrassed for a moment. Public displays of affection were not commonplace for her, but Michal’s change of mood made her chest twist in pleasure. She’d attended many weddings in her life, and while her heart wasn’t completely jaded with contempt for the institution, Therese felt no need to sit around and absorb the ambiance. It was why she only held off returning Michal’s advances until they’d ducked behind a dimly lit gazebo, just a short distance from the dinner tables. She had attempted to playfully scold him for his wandering hands, but her lecture was lost in her throat with the kiss he crushed against her lips.

Mm, yes, there had been no denying Michal Conway Lynch tonight...

She dug her nails into his shoulders as his lips whispered against her collarbone, sucked up her neck, and kissed along her jaw. One of her hands reached above and behind her to grip the tree in an attempt keep her feverish mind at bay, to adjust their angle, to feel more. Her mind fluttered at the realization of how very public this scene was and it alarmed her that as someone who had taken sex so very seriously for so long, these sort of dirty endeavors are what excited her the most. Therese didn’t know what was more filthy, the actuality that there was a large group of people just footsteps away from them, the fact that not a single article of clothing had been removed merely adjusted, or that she was decidedly quite pleased at the now throbbing pain in her shoulder where Michal had left his mark.

Therese bit down on his lip as his mouth decided to finally meet hers, returning the favor. Their eyes caught each other’s gaze and mirrored smiles crossed their faces in the pale moonlight that was streaking through the trees. Therese imagined they looked quite the sight with her dress pushed up to her waist and his arms so tightly around her that he might actually crush her against the tree trunk. For a moment everything stopped, her nose pressing into his cheek, both of their chests heaving as the feeling of being with him overwhelmed every sense in her body. This felt so good, it felt so good in so many different and exciting ways that it was nearly unbelievable.

“You have a thing for weddings,” she breathed into his mouth. They had a thing for weddings. Michal responded with a satisfied groan as she shifted against him, and his rhythm began once more to finish showing her how much of a thing he really had.

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Matilda Rowle was dead.

Therese shut her eyes tightly. Matilda Mulciber was dead. She had been a wife, and a mother; she was no longer the insipid girl that made the lives of everyone who crossed her path just that much more irritating with her grating voice and attitude. She was dead, and Therese had hated her so, so much. She was dead and Therese felt so, so miserable about it.

She wiped away some fallen tears as she ascended the stairs to her flat, her legs feeling like lead. Her days at St. Mungo's grew longer and longer as the virus continued to move through the community. The public was being safer, but with how easily it spread there was still a steady flow of new patients every morning. They were filled to capacity, but unfortunately, and in the saddest of ways, beds became available. Therese wasn't sure how much longer she could bear it; her interning years had been brutal, and the stress of the workload had been what caused the healer-in-chief at the time to recommend going into a field that moved at a slower pace. Therese, as strong of a stoic, stony mask she put on for her patients, grew easily invested in their lives and well-being.

Dealing with concerns over quidditch players who came to her with the most outrageous of stories and fears seemed like child's play when you had to inform a wife, a husband, a parent, that their loved one hadn't made it through the night.

The image of Matilda's husband shouting, screaming at her healer caused Therese to stop midway up the flight to catch her breath, her hand pressing to her lips to hold back a cry. She had not known John well, she could honestly give no opinion of the man outside of what Mackenzie detailed, but the pain in his eyes, the anger in his voice, it had been devastating. No one should have to go through that. That anguish was---was the worst thing you could wish upon a person. John Mulciber had to bury his wife…he had to tell his two young sons that their mother wasn't coming home…

Therese's shoulders shook as her tears began to flow freely down her cheeks. She dropped to the steps and her bag bounced down to the landing below, her belongings spilling everywhere. She could not make it up another step. Everything from the past two months rested heavily on her shoulders and Therese could feel her back breaking. The miscarriage, the secrets, Michal walking out the door, the long and grueling shifts, her patients, Matilda! Matilda was dead! Matilda was dead and it was so bloody unfair!

A bark echoed up the stairwell and Therese jolted upright. She tried to wipe away the evidence of her short breakdown, but it was too late; her dog had already turned the corner from the flight below and bounded up the stairs. Therese sat back as Alphonse jumped into her lap, and there was great warmth in her chest at how happy he was to see her. The footsteps she had been anticipating after hearing the barking soon followed and Therese smiled sadly down at her brother.

Louis looked concerned, and he picked up the spilled contents of her purse without taking his eyes off of her. His eyebrows went high, trying to determine the reason why she was sitting in the middle of a flight of stairs, looking like all hell. She could try to lie to him like she usually did when there was something wrong, but it was more than evident that things weren't fine, and she was too exhausted to say otherwise. Louis sat down beside her, lips pressed tightly together and Therese shook her head. She couldn't talk about it now. Her eyes shut and she let out a long breath as Louis put his arms around her.

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Therese frowned, staring pointedly at the girl sitting across the table from her. Adamina had not heard a word she had said, her eyes turned to the window. The Parisian skyline was striking, of course, but her conversation about her two-headed patient back in London couldn't have been that boring.

"I invited you here to catch up," she said, reaching out with her spoon to clink the other girl's glass, "not to stare endlessly out the window. I know the view is beautiful, but…"

Adamina blinked and turned to her, looking almost confused as to what was going on. The weeks prior to this Easter break holiday, Therese had received letters full of excitement and details of the new boy that Adamina was seeing, the shopping that must be done, and the sights that needed to be seen! Therese had honestly missed her time with Adamina now that she had graduated, and this week was supposed to be the perfect way to rekindle the friendship. But, it looked like the girl had other things on her mind.

"Tell me what's wrong," she said, not bothering to tiptoe around the matter. Therese had known Adamina for too long, and too well, to allow this to go on for any longer. Plus, if she wanted to intern in the Janus Thickey Ward, she needed to start practicing her people-reading skills outside of the hospital as well.

The other girl pursed her lips, looking down at the table for a moment. It had never been a problem to get Adamina to talk to her, but her grave expression worried Therese. She put a hand out, resting it atop of the other girl's. "You can tell me anything."

"No one knows," Adamina said quietly. Tears filled her eyes and she let out short breath, "not yet, anyway. I'm so—ashamed!"

Therese's eyes narrowed and she leaned closer over the table, her hand gripping Adamina's. "Did that boy do something to you, Addie? Did he---are you…?"

Adamina let out a strangled laugh, looking up and shaking her head furiously.

"I'm not pregnant, Therese!" she said. Therese flushed; she definitely needed more practice at reading emotions. "Tim is…he's wonderful, I couldn't ask for anything more."

"I'm still finding it hard to believe you're talking about that straggly haired Hufflepuff…" Therese muttered, but she kept her focus, "If it's not him, then what?"

There were another few moments of silence and Therese watched Adamina seemingly prepare herself to explain with deep breaths and a tight grip on her hand. "My brother's been disowned."

"Nicholas!" Therese let out, caught entirely off guard. Adamina nodded miserably, and Therese wasted no time in coming around the table to sit on the window sill to be closer to her friend. "It can't be! What ever for?"

"He met some muggle in Italy and---and they got married!" Adamina managed before bursting into tears.

Therese gaped at her friend, wasting no time in throwing her arms around her in a tight embrace. Disowned! That was…unbelievable! Nicholas Hooke had always been the epitome of a well-bred, pureblood man! Therese had spent much time at the Hooke manor admiring his attributes! How could he choose a woman over his family who so obviously and desperately loved him?

"It'll be all right," Therese said, letting Adamina cry. While her own parents had not set such harsh restrictions on herself or her brother, she knew the rules. There were rules and when they were broken they were almost never repaired. The idea of losing her brother forever…no, it couldn't happen. Adamina did not deserve such heart ache. "He's still your brother. He'll just---"

"Be burnt from the tapestry!" Adamina let out. "As if he never existed! If they have babies, I won't be able to see them! My own nieces, I've always wanted nieces to dress up! Cecilia will never give me nieces, I wanted Nick to have girls and now I'll never meet them!"

"Did Nick say that?" Therese asked, pulling back from Adamina to look her in the eye. "Did Nick say that you weren't allowed in his life anymore?"

"He---" Adamina's sobs slowed as she thought, and she shook her head. "No. He was miserable when I confronted him."

"There you go," the older girl said, smiling softly. "Give it time. Let things settle with your parents and then…Greengrass is pureblood, yes?"

Adamina rolled her eyes lightly, but nodded. Therese grinned, "See, with your eyes set on a good, decent—"

"—hilarious, strong, sexy---"

"Pureblooded man," Therese finished, batting her eyes at Adamina, "they can't be too concerned about some short visits to meet your nephews."

"Nieces," Adamina corrected.

"You could have nephews, you know."

"I'm only preparing myself for nieces," Adamina said with a nod and sniffle. She leaned into Therese's shoulder, still looking exhausted, but there seemed to be a weight lifted from her shoulders. "You were always good at seeing the other perspective."

Therese couldn't help but straighten her shoulders in pride; maybe she did have what it took to enter her field of choice. She pulled her cup of tea across the table to change the subject to more pleasant things, like how a new dress shop had just opened less than a block away from the flat. This holiday could and would be salvaged, she would make sure of it.

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Two could play this game.

Therese unfurled her hair from its tie and quite obviously strode past the fountain and the loitering Slytherin boys without so much as a glance in their direction. She heard Emmet begin to invite her over, but his voice was cut off with a strangled sound. Therese was sure that Caradoc had stepped on his friend’s foot in a not-so-nice manner to keep him quiet. Good. She did not want him to want her to come over. She did not need a boy who kissed her one day and then was spotted on a rendezvous with Mira Jasper the next!

Quel imbécile!

It had been her goal to make it through Hogwarts without getting involved with one of the foolish boys that walked the halls, and it had been very hard because some of them were quite handsome! It was almost the end of her sixth year and Therese had allowed her judgment to lapse after Caradoc performed a great act of chivalry. How was it her fault that his kisses were so intoxicating? He should not be allowed to kiss girls in that manner!

Huffing, Therese continued her stride to the opposite end of the courtyard, where she knew she was still in full view of the Slytherin boys. She could feel their gaze on her, especially as she stepped foot into territory that Slytherin girls simply did not enter in public.

Her stance was flirtatious as she planted herself firmly within Hufflepuff domain, which had been designated as the area in front of the rose trellises. More specifically, she stood in front of the ringleader of the Hufflepuffs, a great, mischievous smirk on her face.

“Could you boys give me a moment with Derek?” Therese asked of his friends, not taking her eyes off of the most handsome boy in their year. Vinny and Otto made a few dumb sounds as they disappeared with a flash, and that left Derek Dobbs, eyebrows high with amusement. Therese was happy with her decision to leave her robes behind in the dormitory, because as she sat beside him and crossed her legs, her skirt left very little to the imagination. If she was not in such a state with Caradoc, she would be mortified.

C'est la vie.

“What do I owe for your lovely presence?” Derek said, sitting up straight and doing a terrible job of keeping his eyes off her thighs. Therese tossed her hair expertly over her shoulder, smile dazzling.

“I wish to drive Caradoc Dearborn absolutely mad,” she said, adding a silly laugh at the end. Her eyes told the truth; a glimmer of vengeance shone through her batting lashes, “and you are his mortal enemy.”

Derek’s already amused smile slid into a wolfish grin. “And how do you propose we do that?”

Therese bit her tongue lightly. She wasn’t particularly sure, now that she was here. All she’d known was that the existence of Derek Dobbs could drive Caradoc insane, so she was going to use that to her advantage. Therese dared a look over to where she had left the Slytherin boys, and was pleased to see Caradoc with his arms crossed, making a very poor attempt at looking as if he wasn’t paying apt attention. Emmet was the dead giveaway, as he stared quite openly with his lips moving rapidly as if he was relaying every detail of the exchange.

She giggled loudly. Making as if Derek’s words were the funniest she’d ever heard, Therese dropped her hand to his knee, leaning forward. “We are doing a good job, so far.”

“We can do better,” Derek said in a tone that made her ears burn. He put his hand up and pushed some hair out of her face. Their eyes locked as he leaned closer, and Therese’s mouth dropped open as he began to whisper hotly in her ear. “What did he do to piss you off?”

While his words were not of the romantic, sensual kind, Therese blushed; contrary to her current behavior, she was not very experienced when it came to boys being in close proximity. Derek’s other hand had rested against hers on his knee, and she was now wondering if she’d be able to escape the trap she had laid.

“It is not very important,” she said. It was not, as she did not want to admit her own jealousy to herself, let alone the most handsome boy in school. She would also refuse to admit that she did not particularly hold any claim over who Caradoc snogged behind tapestries, but that she had felt inclined to let him know that she was not pleased with his decision. “Do you need a reason to terrorize him?”

“Mm,” he hummed, “I suppose not.” His lips grazed against her ear and Therese’s eyes fluttered shut.

The distinct sound of a splash was heard, and her eyes shot open just in time to see Caradoc’s cloak billowing out of the courtyard and Emmet Belby looking like a drowned rat as he clambered out of the fountain. Therese let out a quick laugh before covering her mouth with her hand. She felt guilty that Emmet had been an innocent bystander in her jealousy-infused attack.

...but not too guilty, as Derek’s lips continued to take some liberties with the task at hand.

“Is he gone?” the handsome Hufflepuff asked. Therese unconsciously stretched her neck and pursed her lips at the empty space across the courtyard.

“No, he is still there,” she said, willing to commit to the role for a bit longer.

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