More "Breakfast and Bedlam"
danaeaphreal here is my apology for not coming to Philly this weekend D:
Title: Breakfast and Bedlam
Rating: Unknown as of yet
Disclaimer: Um... the world of Harry Potter don't belong to me. Nor is any of this written for profit. Michael and Miles are borrowed characters from my dears. Celeste Knight, however, belongs to me and me alone and though I doubt anyone would, she's not up for borrowing without permission!
Summary/Explanation: A long time ago me and my friends were RP dorks-- oh wait, still are. Anyway sometimes I write fanfiction about it. This one is a spin-off from a Harry Potter game that we sort of used to play.
Notes: Continued from this post. Guess who is avoiding their homework?
Miles stared at the pale boy, bewildered, “Listen, Mike, I can understand why people get confused about you. I mean, with enough tequila, a dark corner, and the right dress I might even take a pass at you. But Celeste knows better than that about me. I’m all man.”
“Are you implying that homosexuality is unmanly, Barker?” Under the table, Michael’s hand fisted for a brief, reflexive moment.
“Naw… nothing like that! I just-well if I liked one of my mates that way, I’d just come out and say it, you know? Celeste should know that. Merlin knows I’ve told her on more than one occasion how I feel about her, and if she hasn’t figured it out by now, then I’m fresh out of options.”
Michael’s blue eyes fell to rest on the teacup that still bore a faint trace of Celeste’s pink lip gloss on its rim. He wondered what Miles’ reaction would be if he told him exactly what flavor of lip gloss Celeste wore, and how it got in the way a bit when snogging her.
“She thinks you’re an oaf,” Michael snapped, shoving himself off the bench suddenly, “As do I.”
A moment later, he swept out of the hall in an echo of Celeste’s abrupt departure, leaving Miles staring about him, muttering to no one in particular about ‘twitchy-arsed Slytherin pricks’.
*****
“Careful as you add that hembane, Miss Knight. Too many drops and you’ll kill rather than cure.”
“Of course, professor,” Celeste replied in a bland tone. It would have been easy to inform the professor that this particular recipe had been designed by her great-grandfather and she’d been watching it made since she could first inhale oxygen, but there was no need to rub the point in. After all, Professor Adamson was teaching at Hogwarts because those who cannot do, teach, or in Adamson’s case, those who cannot make it past the first round interview with Knights Potente Potions Limited.
“Say, Knight, when did you start keeping company with Elliot?”
Celeste’s green eyes drifted up to lock coolly over her cauldron with the beady, black gaze of Parker, whose lips were still generously coated in crumbs from breakfast.
“We’ve always been friends,” she replied casually.
“Nu-uh. Tomlinson saw you two necking in the common room the other night.”
“Tomlinson is barely coherent for two hours out of the day thanks to his overindulgence in pain potions.”
“And how would you know that?”
Celeste’s lips curved into a wicked smirk, “Who do you think keeps him supplied?”
Parker digested this and then leaned in over his cauldron. With a clumsy stage-whisper he hissed, “Say, what’s your going rate right now?”
“We can discuss this outside of class sometime,” Celeste murmured, glancing meaningfully in the direction of the instructor, “Also, your tie has taken a dip in the soup.”
Parker jerked back with a curse, but it was too late, his wet tie flew up, smacking him in the eye and drenching him liberally with potion.
“AUGH!!! MERLIN’S BOLLOCKS IT STINGS LIKE HELL!!! PROFESSOR!!”
Celeste coughed deeply to hold back a wicked giggle as she watched Parker dance around in agony, clutching his skull while the rolls of fat around his middle undulated merrily.
“Oh pants-it-hold still, Parker!” the professor attempted to restrain the boy in order to perform a bit of basic first aid. With the aid of one of the larger Gryffindors, the spell was performed, but Parker’s eye wept profusely with a suspicious liquid and his face was blotchy with red bumps.
“Miss Knight, would you please escort Mr. Parker to the hospital wing? And tell the mediwitch I’ll be along shortly once I’ve properly dismissed the class.”
Celeste gave the professor a pleasant, obedient smile, and amiably guided Parker to the hospital wing, quietly calculating how much gold she could reap from his pockets thanks to this little incident. Certainly enough to buy up the new product line from Weasley’s Wheezes without dipping into her allowance or attracting the notice of her busybody older sister.
This pleasant thought absorbed her so deeply on the return to Potions that she was almost unaware that she’d been whisked off the main hallway and into one of Hogwarts’ numerous alcoves until she was standing, breathless and on the verge of shrieking, back pressed against cold stone. As she drew breath to yelp, a warm hand smacked firmly across her mouth.
“Oh hush it, Knight. It’s just me.” The hand slid carefully away and Celeste’s brain finally reconciled the gingery red hair and grinning face of Miles Barker.
“Barker what the hell are you doing? Let me go at once!” Celeste jerked the slender wrist that he had wrapped his much larger hand around and twisted away from him.
“Hm. Don’t think so. You’ve got at least ten more minutes before your professor will expect you back, and I can do a lot in ten minutes.” As if to demonstrate this, Miles’ belt chirped out ‘can you handle all this--?’.
“You will let me go, now, Barker, or I will scream.”
Miles grinned at her, “Go ahead.”
Celeste gritted her teeth, drew breath, opened her mouth, and then let it out in a loud gush of air.
“That’s what I thought, sweetheart.”
“No, I’m just deciding how I want to hex you instead of letting the teachers give you the relatively easy punishment of detention.”
“Mmm nope. Wrong again. You’re not gonna scream because you’re curious as to what my plans are.”
“Barker, you don’t have plans. That requires strategy and intellect. You are a creature entirely of instinct and appetite.”
“Damn right.”
The red-haired boy broke out into an even larger grin, and released her wrist. Celeste seized the opportunity to dart out from under his arm, but Miles was as quick as any member of the champion Gryffindor Quidditch team and looped an arm around her waist, lifting her off her feet and against him. He moved back to the seclusion of the alcove and after securing her against him with another arm, pressed his lips to hers.
Celeste felt a moment of fluttery panic that blossomed into a mixture of terror and excitement. She felt something like a ragdoll, suspended in his arms above the floor, so she wrapped an arm loosely around his neck, intending to pull his hair viciously to put a halt to the tomfoolery, but he chose that moment to squeeze her against him and tug at her bottom lip with his teeth.
Unthinkingly, she moaned and her mouth fell open against his. With a satisfied grunt, Miles lowered her slightly, pushing one hand up her back and into the silken, black hair near the base of her skull. He tilted her head to kiss her more thoroughly. Her heartbeat sped up and yet everything felt so slow, as if she were lying in a warm bath, staring up at nothing while little rushes of pleasure shivered along her limbs.
Finally he ended the kiss and leaned back with a roguish grin. Celeste felt that now was the time to whip out her wand and hex him back to the Burning Times. Perhaps instead, kick his shins so hard that he’d be on bench duty for the remainder of the Quidditch season. Or at least slap him.
Instead she burst into tears.
“What the-Knight? What’s wrong with you? Hey? Knight? It’s not like… I mean it was just a snog-oh come on!”
“You-you just had to go and ruin everything didn’t you?” Celeste sobbed, “I mean, we were fine, and you were fine, and it was so lovely-and you-you kissed me! And why did you kiss me? I don’t… I don’t… oh you ASS Miles Barker.”
She shoved hard at him and took off in the direction of the girl’s lavatory, leaving behind a confused ginger.
Title: Breakfast and Bedlam
Rating: Unknown as of yet
Disclaimer: Um... the world of Harry Potter don't belong to me. Nor is any of this written for profit. Michael and Miles are borrowed characters from my dears. Celeste Knight, however, belongs to me and me alone and though I doubt anyone would, she's not up for borrowing without permission!
Summary/Explanation: A long time ago me and my friends were RP dorks-- oh wait, still are. Anyway sometimes I write fanfiction about it. This one is a spin-off from a Harry Potter game that we sort of used to play.
Notes: Continued from this post. Guess who is avoiding their homework?
Miles stared at the pale boy, bewildered, “Listen, Mike, I can understand why people get confused about you. I mean, with enough tequila, a dark corner, and the right dress I might even take a pass at you. But Celeste knows better than that about me. I’m all man.”
“Are you implying that homosexuality is unmanly, Barker?” Under the table, Michael’s hand fisted for a brief, reflexive moment.
“Naw… nothing like that! I just-well if I liked one of my mates that way, I’d just come out and say it, you know? Celeste should know that. Merlin knows I’ve told her on more than one occasion how I feel about her, and if she hasn’t figured it out by now, then I’m fresh out of options.”
Michael’s blue eyes fell to rest on the teacup that still bore a faint trace of Celeste’s pink lip gloss on its rim. He wondered what Miles’ reaction would be if he told him exactly what flavor of lip gloss Celeste wore, and how it got in the way a bit when snogging her.
“She thinks you’re an oaf,” Michael snapped, shoving himself off the bench suddenly, “As do I.”
A moment later, he swept out of the hall in an echo of Celeste’s abrupt departure, leaving Miles staring about him, muttering to no one in particular about ‘twitchy-arsed Slytherin pricks’.
*****
“Careful as you add that hembane, Miss Knight. Too many drops and you’ll kill rather than cure.”
“Of course, professor,” Celeste replied in a bland tone. It would have been easy to inform the professor that this particular recipe had been designed by her great-grandfather and she’d been watching it made since she could first inhale oxygen, but there was no need to rub the point in. After all, Professor Adamson was teaching at Hogwarts because those who cannot do, teach, or in Adamson’s case, those who cannot make it past the first round interview with Knights Potente Potions Limited.
“Say, Knight, when did you start keeping company with Elliot?”
Celeste’s green eyes drifted up to lock coolly over her cauldron with the beady, black gaze of Parker, whose lips were still generously coated in crumbs from breakfast.
“We’ve always been friends,” she replied casually.
“Nu-uh. Tomlinson saw you two necking in the common room the other night.”
“Tomlinson is barely coherent for two hours out of the day thanks to his overindulgence in pain potions.”
“And how would you know that?”
Celeste’s lips curved into a wicked smirk, “Who do you think keeps him supplied?”
Parker digested this and then leaned in over his cauldron. With a clumsy stage-whisper he hissed, “Say, what’s your going rate right now?”
“We can discuss this outside of class sometime,” Celeste murmured, glancing meaningfully in the direction of the instructor, “Also, your tie has taken a dip in the soup.”
Parker jerked back with a curse, but it was too late, his wet tie flew up, smacking him in the eye and drenching him liberally with potion.
“AUGH!!! MERLIN’S BOLLOCKS IT STINGS LIKE HELL!!! PROFESSOR!!”
Celeste coughed deeply to hold back a wicked giggle as she watched Parker dance around in agony, clutching his skull while the rolls of fat around his middle undulated merrily.
“Oh pants-it-hold still, Parker!” the professor attempted to restrain the boy in order to perform a bit of basic first aid. With the aid of one of the larger Gryffindors, the spell was performed, but Parker’s eye wept profusely with a suspicious liquid and his face was blotchy with red bumps.
“Miss Knight, would you please escort Mr. Parker to the hospital wing? And tell the mediwitch I’ll be along shortly once I’ve properly dismissed the class.”
Celeste gave the professor a pleasant, obedient smile, and amiably guided Parker to the hospital wing, quietly calculating how much gold she could reap from his pockets thanks to this little incident. Certainly enough to buy up the new product line from Weasley’s Wheezes without dipping into her allowance or attracting the notice of her busybody older sister.
This pleasant thought absorbed her so deeply on the return to Potions that she was almost unaware that she’d been whisked off the main hallway and into one of Hogwarts’ numerous alcoves until she was standing, breathless and on the verge of shrieking, back pressed against cold stone. As she drew breath to yelp, a warm hand smacked firmly across her mouth.
“Oh hush it, Knight. It’s just me.” The hand slid carefully away and Celeste’s brain finally reconciled the gingery red hair and grinning face of Miles Barker.
“Barker what the hell are you doing? Let me go at once!” Celeste jerked the slender wrist that he had wrapped his much larger hand around and twisted away from him.
“Hm. Don’t think so. You’ve got at least ten more minutes before your professor will expect you back, and I can do a lot in ten minutes.” As if to demonstrate this, Miles’ belt chirped out ‘can you handle all this--?’.
“You will let me go, now, Barker, or I will scream.”
Miles grinned at her, “Go ahead.”
Celeste gritted her teeth, drew breath, opened her mouth, and then let it out in a loud gush of air.
“That’s what I thought, sweetheart.”
“No, I’m just deciding how I want to hex you instead of letting the teachers give you the relatively easy punishment of detention.”
“Mmm nope. Wrong again. You’re not gonna scream because you’re curious as to what my plans are.”
“Barker, you don’t have plans. That requires strategy and intellect. You are a creature entirely of instinct and appetite.”
“Damn right.”
The red-haired boy broke out into an even larger grin, and released her wrist. Celeste seized the opportunity to dart out from under his arm, but Miles was as quick as any member of the champion Gryffindor Quidditch team and looped an arm around her waist, lifting her off her feet and against him. He moved back to the seclusion of the alcove and after securing her against him with another arm, pressed his lips to hers.
Celeste felt a moment of fluttery panic that blossomed into a mixture of terror and excitement. She felt something like a ragdoll, suspended in his arms above the floor, so she wrapped an arm loosely around his neck, intending to pull his hair viciously to put a halt to the tomfoolery, but he chose that moment to squeeze her against him and tug at her bottom lip with his teeth.
Unthinkingly, she moaned and her mouth fell open against his. With a satisfied grunt, Miles lowered her slightly, pushing one hand up her back and into the silken, black hair near the base of her skull. He tilted her head to kiss her more thoroughly. Her heartbeat sped up and yet everything felt so slow, as if she were lying in a warm bath, staring up at nothing while little rushes of pleasure shivered along her limbs.
Finally he ended the kiss and leaned back with a roguish grin. Celeste felt that now was the time to whip out her wand and hex him back to the Burning Times. Perhaps instead, kick his shins so hard that he’d be on bench duty for the remainder of the Quidditch season. Or at least slap him.
Instead she burst into tears.
“What the-Knight? What’s wrong with you? Hey? Knight? It’s not like… I mean it was just a snog-oh come on!”
“You-you just had to go and ruin everything didn’t you?” Celeste sobbed, “I mean, we were fine, and you were fine, and it was so lovely-and you-you kissed me! And why did you kiss me? I don’t… I don’t… oh you ASS Miles Barker.”
She shoved hard at him and took off in the direction of the girl’s lavatory, leaving behind a confused ginger.