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As her hand moved against him, softly curled fingers or tightened grip stroking his length, his breathing hitched and quickened, words grown softer and less frequent as they were replaced by the onrush of gasping breaths.  Like her own, his body brightened from within, but that pale skin lit up blue-gray, steel with a white center, as much his Sidhe inner light as an angler fish's predatory lure.  As it increased with her strokes, subcutaneous markings along his body grew apparent, black stripes and spots, previously not visible and reminiscent of marine life, though his flesh stayed just that: human skin.  His hands held onto her upper arms and shoulders, hungry grasping in massaging patterns as his tentacles followed suit, squirming along the length of her body even as they pulled them higher up onto the slick, blackened rocks, laying him out flat beneath her on an incredibly smooth surface, and giving her plenty of freedom to move about.

"Oh yes, darling girl, more of this.  More of you."  He grunted out as he situated himself against the obsidian bed, "I want to feel your body against mine, I want to show you things you've never dreamed of.  If you're comfortable to, let us partake of each other sooner than later as I want to feel your mouth upon me as I share mine with you."  His words trickled out slowly, like runoff water trickling down a path of pebbles.  Removed from the water, his tentacles disappeared beneath her, long caresses and suctioned releases until they merged to form legs and left him seeming much closer to a man, were it not for that phosphorescence and the markings down his legs that showed where each tendril merged.

As wonderful as this was, it was all part of the Labyrinth's trap to seduce her from her way.  Those old fairy tales always stated clearly, stick to the path, but they were far off the beaten trail and her quest would be easily forgotten under the feel of him.  The clock remained stopped, however, Jareth remained unaware, most likely from the demesne's machinations, leaving the trap open and unknowable, at least for the moment.  His hands trailed down her body, exploring the shape of her form.  Open hands slide from hips to ass, squeezing and lifting to pull her up higher against him.  He wanted to tell her, Stay with me, but the time wasn't ready yet.  She wasn't ready yet.  Soon enough, she would experience a mind numbing orgasm and he would beg her to give up her quest and remain with him in his Kingdom.  A trick of the Labyrinth, but the sincerity of his desire to keep her would make for good bait. 

"Come love, crawl up me and turn around.  I want to taste you."  Lit up like an angler fish, his hardness rising up, bending slightly before her, he was this trial's lure.

The Corsair held himself still as she approached him, keeping himself as harmless-seeming as possible.  She was having trouble putting what she wanted into words, except that she wanted him, wanted to repay him for his actions.  "It is not the sort of activity where debts are easily kept track of, Sweetling.  Perhaps it is possible, but in the spur of the moment, it is about pleasure for you as well as your partner.  The drive for equality of giving is enough to ensure both parties feel sufficiently involved and cared for."  As her breasts pressed against his tentacles, they curled around her body in languid passes, slender and thick, suction cups soft and pliable, the ends of two tendrils curled around her breasts to toy at her hardened nipples.  The sight of her reaching towards him built so much excitement on its own, but when those finger wrapped his length, his head tipped back, mouth opening to gasp upwards, gulding down the fresh, sea air.

She shone with such brightness, between them both, they lit up the small pool, leaving their actions observable both as silhouettes and figures, depending on the angle and distance.  The underneath was illuminated by her brightly glowing lower body, showing the pools depths clearly, even despite the silt in the water.  It ran down his smooth flesh in rivulets, tasting of clean water, rather than salt.  As she moved against him, his long limbs found and caressed her backside, urging her closer even though she approached so easily on her own.  "Oh old gods, that feels good." he breathed while his brain translated the question she'd asked him.  "Oh, yes, there are easy ways for us to play with each other's body at the same time, but dry land would be preferable, so you are able to breath."  His grin held such playfulness, it would have been easy to believe he was teasing had he not continued to explain.

"For the moment, I think it best you take this opportunity to explore me, familiarize yourself with my maleness, and once comfortable, we can find a nice place for me to lay back, allowing you to crawl onto my body upside down.  In the future, you will find yourself on the bottom of such an exchange, I'm sure, but, for now, lets avoid anything that would make you feel trapped or scared."  He didn't mention how easily a female could get herself choked if a man mounted her face the way one mounts a woman, but she would figure out that danger on her own, if they ever got that far.  For the moment, he only expected her to continue using her hands, even if they ended up in the Pisces position.  "Just like that, Sweetling.  Feel free to squeeze harder, the shaft is easy to manipulate, isn't it?  Just don't squeeze the balls beneath, as that is where pain would begin.

The Corsair felt her hands clench against his strong shoulders, squeezing the muscled arches where fingers had until then simply trailed.  He couldn't blame her, as he'd begun placing gentle kisses against those supple layers of skin that had, until now, been tucked hidden between her legs, even still hidden beneath the waters.  Her gasping pleading did indeed reach his ears, and as his hands ran up the backs of her legs, from behind her knee, fingers splayed as they rose up soft thighs to rise like claws over the swells of her ass, it seemed as though he would not be stopping.  His mouth moved, however, sliding his tongue over the front of her thigh as he slowly tore himself away from pleasuring her moments before his tongue would have delved deep within her Marianis Trench.  Is she glanced down as he'd moved away, there were lines of phosphorescent glow trailing down his arms and multitude of legs, with that dark, ethereal glow, like that fish with a light bulb dangling from the front of his head, (Anglerfish.)

The surface of the pool broke as his alabaster hair crested the churning placidity before she felt his lips leave her skin.  Continuing up and back, his forehead was slowly revealed, followed by arching brows too perfect to have never been sculpted.  His eyes were filled with mirth, hinting at the smirk of a grin to be revealed as he maintained locked gaze with her flushed face.  "Do you?"  He queried, finding it quite the compliment that this woman who'd only been shown the darker side of sex, with none of the desire, safety nets, or compassion that could turn such marvelous, was now struggling with a desire to participate.  "I can take that as nothing, but a compliment of my skills, offered freely with your delicious desperation."  He was still rising from the waters, that body both hard and smooth, chiseled as a swimmer's should be, abs like a washboard as rivulets of water streamed down him.  That hardened pouch should have been next, but instead, the bulbous head of his cock broke the surface, followed by his thick, vein-riddled shaft.  It was a man's penis, in every way, nothing marine about the statuesque phallus, though it maintained his whitish-blue hue.

She would know that her touch would allow her to feel the blood coursing through his veins, the heat through the flesh that looked as though it should have been cool as a corpse, as the invasive thing twitched with his racing pulse.  Beneath, his heavy sack hung full and just as smooth.  Instead of legs, a skirt of tentacles carried him higher and back, away from her.  "Are you sure this is what you wish, Sweetling?"  Those reaching limbs were straining to carry him back and up as they lashed out round the rocks edging the pool, bringing him to rest above the waters which he called home.  They slapped against stone, coiling as suctioning spots gripped to hold him up.  "The clock could begin moving again at any moment."  He was on display before her, not really that much higher, than she, but then his body ended shortly below the waist.  "But for you, I would part the oceans.  How could I not allow myself to enjoy your touch?"  It sounded romantic, but parting the oceans was probably as easy as breathing for the marine mammal of a Sidhe Fae glowing before her in the distant moon's glow.

The Corsair's tentacles suddenly released her wrists and ankles, freeing her limbs from the restraints of him.  His hands had moved in, his left hand suddenly fucking her with two fingers, rushing in and out to add her natural wetness to the pool they floated in, as his right moved up to that northern mergings of supple flesh.  His thumb placed itself firmly above her sex and stroked up towards her belly, gently drawing the hood back so her hidden button would come forth for the touch of his gentle, yet diligent fingertips.  He had decided it was time for her to come for him, and put all of his effort into making her clench and cry out.  "Then let's get started, shall we?"  He barely managed to get the sentence out as she'd renewed her movements atop him, causing him to squirm as his hips strained to hump up against her without throwing off their balance.  "I want to feel your thighs vibrate,"  He whispered, breathy panting intermingled until words stopped and his mouth clamped onto that same ear.

He wanted her, so badly, but he gave it all up to pleasure her first.  If she sought to leave and continue afterwards, so be it, she'd still have earned her kiss, but if the clock kept still, they would have plenty of time to continue.  Those tentacles that had been holding her, now coiled around and gently stroked her flesh in soft caresses.  Suction cupped undersides had been simply slippery until now, when his excitement caused the occasional tendril to latch onto her, like dozens of mouths latching onto her soft skin, suckling her as they pulled gentle pressure back from the surface.  He seemed to be doing it on purpose, finding spots that he would want to put his mouth, when able.

A tentacle on either side of him, slipped over her palms, running against her hands and letting her curl her fingers around them.  He'd noticed how she'd groped at them, enjoying the feel of his seaself.  There is nothing that she could have done for him that would have meant half as much as what she'd already done.  When he approached, he could have been a merman.  She wouldn't have known until he'd been brave enough to move closer, to let her see.  Why was Corsair alone?  Many a human woman turned away in fear and disgust at the sight of him.  Many a seafae love has died, for their is no more brutal killing floor than that at the bottom of the ocean.  The waters hidden depths make Jotunheim seem like Disney.  But not Aisling, she'd not had a moment's doubt, and embraced him both figuratively and literally.  So he lay himself in her hands so she could continue to play.

All this time, his own hands focused on her, his body rising up slightly as he follows her own, natural constriction from the pleasure, she would never, not have him supporting her.  Her legs could fall to dangle at either side of his torso, but his hands would keep up their vigil, until she exploded with pleasure.  He would remain their through her orgasm, when she reaches it, but then, before she regained herself, he would already begin dipping beneath the waves, lowering down as she ended upright again, and hidden beneath the surface, he would move to bury his face between her legs.

The Corsair lay back into the water and he brought her back with him, to lay on her back as though floating.  The mass of his tentacles spreading out beneath them, finding rigid purchase against the floor and closest walls.  His face breached the surface beside her ear, almost entirely submerged even as he kept her mostly out of the water, but also on display should someone wander up.  "Relax then, and be cherished, Aisling.  Let go, and be free, for a time, in the waters of my loch."  It couldn't have been more of a lead in to sex, his comment to 'let go,' as his fingers now began to enter her body in small, testing thrusts.  It began with one, just up to the first knuckle, and it sat there, rolling around against her tight little walls as though his constant rubbing of her swollen clitoris had distracted him from continuing.  But then, that finger dipped in deeper, pressing up against her walls, resistance as she clenched against the digit due to his mouth finding, and tending to, her ear.

But then, he said some things that explained what he actually meant, and gracious as he was, his hands drifted onto her thighs again, shifting her against himself, so hard beneath her, as he made sure she was stable there, laying atop him.  "Freedom, my sweet, sweet girl, is completely relative.  It's a concept people rush towards, all the while locking themselves into different cages they didn't even see, but somehow chose.  Children rush headlong into adulthood to escape their parents, and into a slew of external responsibilities just waiting to subjugate them.  That is why we are mindful of the tides of life.  The ebb and flow, the detritus, which it sounds like what your step-father was.  And you did, you escaped him and you are free from that.  So relax, let the waters, and my body, hold you up, as though we were flying.  Water, is just thicker air, after all."

Suddenly, another finger was inside of her, burying within her body as far as it would go, and moving in a small circle as he added, "You want ... 'it?'"  His finger slid free, her inner flesh closing behind, until he pushed it back in to part her.  His thumb found and grazed over that swollen nub once more, but he was teasing her, coaxing her into speaking while unable to think straight.  Poor Aisling, virginal, untouched Aisling, was now experiencing the beginnings of pleasure denial, though he was kind enough to still impart some on her.  His thumb strummed over her again, a second finger pressed against her entrance, hinting that he might try for two.  "You'll have to be more specific, lover.  What is the 'it,' that you want?  Tell me, and maybe I'll grant it to you."

He hadn't been trying for sex, but simply making a point about how holding onto her having wanted her freedom was holding her back.  Like now, she'd locked herself into the Labyrinth.  She'd locked herself to Jareth.  She was locking herself to Corsair, more and more each moment, as he showed her how things should have been for her.  She was free, but she was not free.  For a time, however, she could feel free.  Floating weightless out in this pond, with her private lover.  Soft lips brushed her ear, his tongue dancing out.  "Tell me."  He was controlling her, in his own way, but not to make her feel overpowered, only to take the burden of responsibility off of her shoulders.  To make her realize, "Freedom comes when we give up our desire to control.  Be like the waters, go where the current wills it."

"Tell me what 'it' is, so that I can take over for you."

The Corsair had intended for her to lose herself, because the more she let go, the more he received from her.  This was originally going to be a slow moving seduction, he had planned to draw her into his arms over the course of many smaller, more intimate conversations, but then she'd practically handed herself over to him.  "Mmmmm," Gasps and moans broke into his attempts to form words as she reached for his tentacles and began to push back against his firmness with a wanting that bespoke of her heritage waking, as much as her ears did.  "Yes, Sweetling."  He murred out with a sound that almost seemed like a purr, but the vibration was more of a dolphin cry than a feline.  "You said that already."  His chuckle was warm and inviting, the rumbles wrapping around her as much as his multitude of limbs were.

She felt wonderful against him, "But the question is why, and is it everything you wished for?"  So soft and warm, his hands roamed up along the length of her neck, fingertips slipping behind her ears to scrub with the soap suds.  He let his fingers trail behind his moving hands as they headed low again, following the contours of her body.  Their deal had been loose enough to leave him with unfettered access, and left unfinished as it was, with no restraints.  Well, no restraints, except for the two tentacles which, beneath the waves, had found her ankles and latched on around them.  He held her, but didn't immediately do anything untoward, until two more sought out her wrists, looking to take hold of her and keep her close, lifted half out of the water, as she rested against his cock and rocked back on it.  That smooth length tucked against her, slipping between her cheeks as they ground against each other.  Tugging gently, his grip upon her lower legs attempted to pull them apart as his palms crested over her hips, fingers pointing down towards her center on either side of her.

Hands would shift lower, grazing her sex from either side without touching it directly as they passed to her inner thighs.  "Why, exactly that.  Your touch, of course.  To feel you.  To feel you against me.  What more could I ever want for?"  His hands assisted his tentacles, coaxing those legs apart more, so his hands could return up those long limbs towards the hot core of her sexual being.  His mouth nipped at her ears, teeth biting against the supple skin, tongue lashing against them, but only when he wasn't talking, bringing up what they were doing in a slow cadence, tinged by his own overwhelming need.  He wanted to enter her, he could take her if he wanted, as she hadn't stated for him not to, but he knew she wasn't ready for that, and so his hands found those lower lips.  Soft fingers rubbed over her lower set of lips, stroking them gently in a way that allowed him to pass over her hooded clit, repeatedly.  "Can you feel me against you, Aisling?"  He panted, grinding himself up against her, insistent on being  felt.  The soap was forgotten, along with the bath.  Now there was only the feel of her body in his hands, in his coils, and up against the underside of his erection.  "Tell me," he panted, "how does it feel, to be in the loving embrace of The Corsair?"  He had to remind himself he wasn't keeping her, because in that moment, a part of him intended to.  She hadn't placed a time limit upon him, so he technically could, claim her as his own, unlimited comforting touches given over freely in exchange for his healing, his protective kiss, but he found that he didn't want to do anything that upset her, at least not on purpose.

"Can you feel my hands, touching you?"  And they did, finger tips rubbing up against and between those soft labia, seeking the hidden entrance between them.  His thumbs were aiming for her hidden button, purposefully remaining on the flesh to stroke in repeated patterns, wanting to feel her squirm atop him.  She was very lucky it had been him she found, as others would have dragged her off to be their slaves by this point.  "Tell me, Aisling.  Tell me how I make you feel."  His tentacles binding her wrists and ankles were gentle, though they were demanding of how she remained.  The bathing part was over, for now.  He would have to do her legs for her later, when he was able to think clearly enough to finish them.

[Moonlit Thoughts in the Afterglow: A Keavy & Thistle Flashback]

Moonlit Thoughts in the Afterglow: A Keavy & Thistle Flashback

It may have looked rather pervy of Thistle to be snuggling up to the point that he appeared to be softly making out with Keavy's backside, but aside from the raging need that kept him softly humping against her legs, he couldn't have looked happier, especially after making her shake and shudder, crying out his name.  He held a wildness to his affection, as if his mind had stopped being sentient.  As the Ministry of Magic determines categories of Creatures, Thistle had been, like everyone else, classified as a "Being," but in this moment, while Keavy had collapsed down onto her stomach, allowing Thistle free reign to play as he wished, he could have easily been mistaken for a beast.  He was basking in the moment, enjoying her fully, or as fully as he was allowed, but his mind kept drifting into the past...

The first week of 1st years at Ilvermorny had been rough for both Thistle and Keavy, who had not met as of yet.  He was still reeling from his father having remarried, never having gotten over the death of his mother from three years prior.  He wasn't social, hiding in fictional books constantly as a form of escapism, when he wasn't studying, which he was most of the time.  Thunderbird House had taken him in, and the others made an effort to be social, but he didn't understand it.  He could interact, and even laugh, seeming to have fun, at times, but there was always the sense that he was waiting for them to move along so he could pick up his books again.  Within days, after classes and during free periods, he began to leave the castle, hiding amidst the trees of the surrounding forests with his books, sometimes, dangerously oblivious to the passage of time.

It had been the weekend after their first week of school and Thistle was doing just that, when he'd heard a scream, and sobbing, followed by other kids' laughter.  He had been perched in tree, and in looking down, found himself watching as a red-headed girl his age had been backing away from a group of five girls, all with their wands drawn.  She had hers raised, but as the bullies moved in and out, she had no clear target.  She was a very pretty little thing, slightly overweight perhaps,  fat.  In fact, most of her extra weight seemed to be plumping up a chest and backside that really aught to have been on an older girl.  With the tips of their wands, they jabbed and poked at her breasts, or her ass when she turned to guard her chest protectively.  A sexually suggestive torment, though the threat of spell casting was always a threat.  Perhaps that's why they were tormenting her, jealousy of how attractive she was, even if heavier, because of how prematurely developed she was.

At the time, Thistle didn't think that way, to him, she was just a scared girl being tormented by her peers, and if he found her attractive, it made it all the sadder for a boy who reads about heroes.  He was going to leap down, wand out, and send them off crying with a barrage of spells he shouldn't have known yet, but he wasn't the type to go picking fights with girls, even the overly cruel ones.  He'd had a package of Bellowing Beast Biscuits with him, though he hadn't eaten any, and had sorted them curiously a bit ago, but then promptly forgotten.  In the light of the full moon, he'd almost forgotten about them.  A quick Amplifying Charm whispered, he stuck the tip of his wand against his throat and popped a wolf biscuit into his mouth.  Loud growling and snarling were suddenly coming from where he hid, shaking the foliage as the cracker was already wearing off.  The five bullies were fighting each other as they struggled to get away, none wanting to be left in the back and vulnerable.  Another wolf eaten and he was howling a mournful cry even as he stepped out beside the shaking girl and lowered his wand.  "Quietus."  He said softly, and the amplification spell ended.

"Shhhhhh, it's okay now.  You're ok, you're safe.  I've frightened them away,"  He said with a friendly grin, holding out the bag of magical animal crackers to the crying girl.  She was peaking back over her shoulder at him, much as she had when she'd been on all fours today, but back then it had been fear keeping her from opening up to his arrival, rather than an embarrassment over an overwhelming lust.  "I'm Thistle."  He said, and he lifted a third wolf he'd separated earlier to show her.  "I won't let anyone hurt you.  I promise."  When she reached into the bag to draw out an animal cracker, she looked at it skeptically.  He looked slightly sheepish as he admitted, "I know, they're for smaller kids, but I really wanted to howl today.  My mother used to tell me that when you're angry or upset, to take all of your emotions and pain and ball em up and shove 'em into your howl."  He paused, looking down as he nudged a rock with his shoe.  "School hasn't been what I thought it would be.  Not for you either, I'd bet, huh."  He glanced back up into her face, she really was quite pretty.  His cerulean blue eyes sparkled as he said with a grin, "Well, you have me now.  I'll look out for you."

That first meeting was immediately interrupted by teachers rushing out of the school, searching for werewolves.  Thistle stood beside Keavy with his arms around her, letting her cry into his shoulder as he explained what he'd seen and what he had done.  The teachers thought it was a genius way to handle bullying, and began to call Thistle 'the Puck,' behind closed doors, named after that mischievous fairy from A Midsummer Night's Dream, but not Keavy.  To Keavy, he would forevermore be 'her wolf.'  She refused to be separated from him that night, clinging to him and crying when the staff tried to separate them, so they let them stay up a few more minutes.  He read to her, until she fell asleep, and then she was carried back to Pukwudgie house by the Headmistress herself.  From then on, Keavy always found her wolf, and he was always there for her, until the end of their second year, when he'd had to say goodbye for longer than just the summer.

But now, here they were, together again, finally.  Nothing was going to keep them apart. 

***********************************

(Side Note:  Funnily enough, Keavy's parents would explain as much, with a very similar version of this memory, to a certain Hogwarts Professor, later on that evening.  The conversation, of course, eventually turned to Thistle's mother, and the three classmates remembered Siobhan Faolan with warm fondness.  Professor Potter would treat Thistle and Keavy quite differently in the days to come, entirely placated by both their stories and Sadhbh's emphatic insistance, "That boy's loyalty, before anything else, is to our daughter. Always has been. He almost gave up his future to stay with her, Harry. Truth be told, even with the job at the Ministry, Keavy finding Thistle again is the greatest thing about this move back home. Do you understand, Harry? He's a puppy dog, not a werewolf.")

Thistle had learned most of what he did today from paying attention.  He was always a quick study and the night before had shown him much of what he'd needed to know.  He didn't understand how her womanhood worked, exactly, but his hand had laid upon hers the night before and felt her actions.  Then today, he'd watched her, learning what she liked, where she liked to be touched, he'd learned it all from her.  His fingers asked the questions and her moans and quakes had answered them.  Her moans, her verbal barrage of his name and compliments, warmed him and made him chuckle.  "I would feel proud of myself, if you had difficulty walking."  The only thing he'd done on his own had been playing with her backside, something he had been wanting to do for as long as he could remember and planned to explore more in the future.  For a teen-aged boy like him, the curves that stuck out the most, they were the most obvious sexual features, and so they were the ones that most drew him in.

That was why, when she collapsed against the bed shuddering in orgasm, his body lay alongside hers, and his hands and face were drawn towards her ass and breasts once again.  The post orgasmic snuggle, pre-orgasm for him, which is what kept him so aroused, found his leg thrown over both of hers, hugging them close to him like a body pillow, his raging hard-on a throbbing, heated weight as it pressed to, and drug against, her leg like a humping dog.  His face rested on her plush cheek, gnawing gently upon the skin, nuzzling and licking it.  One hand was toying with the other side, the other arm stretching up under her shirt to fondle at the closest of her breasts through her bra.  He lay with her, as she panted that way, her curvaceous body seeming like a giant chew toy for him, her wolf, and he couldn't have been happier playing with her.  He could still feel her hand in his hair, pulling on it to control his head, could feel her pussy being shoved against his mouth, and the phantom sensations, memories of it all, mixed with his rampant lust, kept him moving against her bare lower body. 

As long as she lay there, he would continue to caress her shapely form, nuzzling his face across her bared skin so sweetly.  He clearly did not care about her sweat or other fluids, as this was all his Keavy, and there was nothing gross about relishing her, meaning they would both need baths again, and he would need a change of clothes for sure.  What he refused to vocalize, his overly-strong feelings for her, his sense of ownership over her, were plain as day in that all-too animalistic affection.  Each pass of his parted lips or cheek against soft flesh reminiscent of a cat marking their owner.

Thistle grinned around his licking tongue, his finger slipping free from her to give room to the fleshy, mouth muscle as it lapped up a heavy line from her clit up through, between her lips.  When his finger returned, it was joined with a second.  "Awwww, my Keavy.  As sweetly as you beg me, how could I not?"  He said, and then both fingers pushed their way inside of her.  His rhythm picked up speed, that sucking flesh of hers so slippery they had no trouble withdrawing to enter her again, at speed against the clinging walls.  He realized at some point that he could use his thumb on the same hand, remembering how she had done so, though he hadn't understood what he was feeling at the time.  Two fingers rushing in and out of her, his thumb rubbing small circles, his second hand was now freed, though currently braced against the mattress as he worked out the rhythm.

Instead of reaching for his cock, however, when his hand finally lifted, it was to grope one of her soft cheeks, spreading her backside apart, as his thumb found and rubbed up against her tailhole.  It was so tightly puckered, he couldn't risk trying to enter it and hurt her, when everything was going so well elsewhere, but, the fluids dripping down his hand gave him an idea.  His thumb collected up that moisture and massaged it against the dryness, not trying to enter, but just to place pressure on her, the natural lotion making it a simple matter to rub small circles against it.  His mouth was all over, biting and sucking as her cheeks around that exploring second hand, or licking and suckling at her labia around the first. 

"That's it, good girl."  He murmured, getting really into the dominance of Keavy, the control, the taking what he wanted, even if she was the one gaining the pleasure, he couldn't help but feel like somehow, she was conceding whatever he wanted to him.  He felt powerful, and skillful, each moan off his name boosting his ego dangerously.  "Good girl, Keavy.  Moan for me, baby.  I want to hear you cum!  I want to feel you cum against my hand and mouth."  His thumb moved off of her clit and his mouth traveled low, attempting to suck the little nub into his mouth, stroking his tongue against the strange weave of supple skins tucked away in that valley of flesh.  Luckily, they had hours available to them, and had jumped straight into this, since neither one of them had looked at the clock for quite some time.

Thistle's warm breath washed over her, his mouth opening, teeth biting against her curvaceous backside as his hands joined forces between.  No longer watching her, or even what his hands were doing, he had to guide himself by touch and judge her responses by sound.  Luckily, she made that second bit really easy for him.  His left hand gripped her inner thigh, one finger held apart to rub at her swollen clit.  He rolled it around his finger tip, stroked it vertically and horizontally, trying to determine which pattern she preferred he continue for further actions.  So confident, as she made it easy to be, his movements were firm and sure, only fumbling slightly when he was too rough against such a sensitive spot, and had to lighten his touch up.

His right hand was more sideways, palm still up against her, as center three fingers played against the soft flesh that guarded her sex.  He simply massaged the loose skin for a time, his main focus on both learning how best she liked her clit touched, and her his mouth now moving over her rear end, as he seemed to be suckling his way slowly closer to the line between her plump cheeks, and that puckered star that, because of how easily her legs were now spread apart, was no longer hidden.  Her wetness, coated his three fingers however, mouth having to pause, gnawing the soft skin and nuzzling, so he could pay attention to how the lips parted around their tips. 

It was so wet, the opening to her yawning for him hungrily, and he could no longer delay slipping a single finger tip inside of her.  Just to the first knuckle, as he was always extra careful not to hurt her, but it was enough to cause his teeth to bite against her a little harder all of the sudden.  It felt like she was sucking on his finger, her walls so close and wet, clinging to his finger as he moved it out and back into her.  So, this is what she had been doing to herself last night.  His finger, knowing she'd been able to manage, slowly delved deeper with each stroke, though, his fingers were thicker than her own.  Soon, he was stroking her clit and fucking her with his fingers, remembering how she had done it so he could base his rhythm on what he'd felt beneath his hand.

He was so hard within his trousers, the pants bulging at the crotch with his full, throbbing erection.  He wanted to do more, but he dared not go so far so fast.  Oh gods, he wanted to!  But he held back, enjoying what he was doing enough that it wasn't even that difficult.  Her sounds and squirming made it all worthwhile, and it was fun in and of itself as well!  He wanted to release himself, to reach down and stroke his firm length, but he seemed to need both hands at the moment, not being skilled enough yet to do this one handed.  But then, an idea popped into his head, and his mouth detached from where it had been latched.  Moments later, his tongue lapped against that sensitive button.  And then again, repeatedly, licking her like a dog who'd missed his owner as his finger rooted deeper inside her, stretching her walls to accommodate it's thicker width and a second finger played around the opening, as he became curious if he could fit a second inside of her.

Thistle's hands moved to fondle her without any encouragement, but as she leaned forward to bury her face in the pillow and swing her hips, her backside presented to him, he unwrapped his gift.  A quick flick of his wrists and her skirt was tossed up to fall back against her, revealing her to him.  " ... "  He gasped at the sight of her, swept away and speechless as the sight of those curves and those panties.  He leaned closer to her, the tip of his nose and parted lips brushing against her sensitive skin, right along the crease where her thigh begins to swell out into her rump, though currently stretched some due to her positioning.  "If you say ... 'rickshaw,' I'll stop," but he didn't wait for her to reply or acknowledge his offering of a safeword.  Before the words even had time to register, his tongue slipped free of his lips to travel up and over, all the way to the inside-out hem of her skirt.

Instead of telling him to stop, she rose upright, her skirt tumbling back down to cover his head within as he moved across those plump cheeks, brushing over her skin with a curious air and nuzzling his face up against the soft plushness.  With her upright again, her secret core was once again more hidden, but his hands seemed content to squeeze her bottom as his face moved over the contours and his lips placed sucking kisses, teeth grazed her flesh, and his tongue lapped out against the skin.  Clearly, he loved her ass as much as he had her breasts.  He heard the unzipping of her skirt and pulled his head free as she dropped it to her knees and bent back over again, hiding her face in her pillow once more.  "So shy.  Still so shy, even as brave as you've become."

He watched her with a smile, hands returning to fondle her, but fingers hooked against the band of her thong, slowly sliding it over the swell of her rear to reveal all of the delicate intricacies that had been hidden from him thus far.  He pulled them past her lips, seeing the glistening wetness that had just begun to touch the material, and continued them down to her knees and the skirt which had been atop it.  One knee at a time, he moved just enough to get the clothes out and slid them down and off of her completely.  He was fascinated with what he'd discovered, not having seen it before, even in books, though he had read a description a time or two.  Hell, their first sex-ed class, which he didn't even realize that's what it was, wouldn't be for a few hours yet!  He climbed more onto the bed, similarly on all fours, though much lower to keep her entirely in view.

Gently, oh so gently, he reached up with his dominant hand and let a digit trace the line where her lips met, feeling their softness against his fingertip.  Just the slightest bit more pressure, and they parted like flower petals, enough for him to see what they protected.  He watched her as well, drawing back to look towards where she hid her face, to see how she reacted to his touch as he stroked her labia, following them towards their peak where they met, followed between them over a hood of flesh that felt firm from what hardened beneath that he'd yet to discover, and then grazed across the opening between the fleshy lips.  Her reaction to that hardened spot, urged him to check it further, and he found that there was a swollen nub hidden somewhat, that the hood revealed more when lightly tugged down.  He moved to touch it with his finger, curiously, just a feather soft brush of the roughed skin against that sensitive button.

"Looks like Hogwarts is having a bit of fun with you," Thistle commented with a grin as she mentioned it actually BEING her bedroom, just as she'd joked.  He followed her into the room slowly, letting his eyes follow her movements until she was on her bed and snuggling her pillow.  Then he turned to look around, making sure the door was closed.  "It's a room that becomes whatever you need it to be, but it's supposed to be only when the need is great.  Honestly, I didn't even think it would work."  He chuckled softly, "Oh," he paused and looked towards her, "Are you homesick at all?  Perhaps that is it.  No, no, I think this is one of those little quirks that convinces me Hogwarts itself is, at least somewhat, semi-sentient."

He removed his shoes by the door, dropped his messenger bag beside it.  A pair of books were all he held as he moved to join her by the bed.  He almost made it, too.  "Looks like the alarm clock is correct, at least, that should hel ..."  The power cord was comical, plugged into the stone as it was, but it wasn't why he'd just suddenly stopped talking.  Keavy had just raised up on her hands and knees, turned her head to look at him over her shoulder, and Thistle's brain went south, quickly.  He opened his mouth to reply, but words failed him as he stared at her there, skirt-barely-covered ass up towards him.  His books had bounced once upon striking the floor.  His eyes closed as he told himself to focus, deep breath in, deep breath out.  "Potter, yeah."  He said, regaining his place in the conversation. 

"I don't think I blame him."  He sat on the end of her bed, facing her on display for him, though most likely unintentional.  His hands rested upon her calves, and while he was doing an admirable job of making eye contact, he was clearly enjoying his current view.  "Over the summer, I was privy to lots of street talk down on Diagon and Knockturn Alleys.  There has been a significant increase in dark magic users recently and the Aurors are finding themselves overworked and without a source for the change.  Strange wands, tomes, objects, they're all being watched closely."  His fingers moved slowly, stroking her skin softly, but insistently, traveling up the backs of her thighs.

He had such strong hands, slightly calloused tips moving, but with a sure grip, as he experienced the moment as long as she didn't move.  His hands, slowly crept higher and higher towards where the skirt hung like a presenting curtain ready to be whipped off the surprise merchandise.  His words were dreamy, "Azkaban is filled, meaning more Aurors are stuck there as guards and less are out on the streets, and yet, they are no closer to knowing why," but, who cared about any of that when Keavy was right there in front of him, so warm, soft, smelling amazing, and seemingly waiting for him to take advantage of her.

So he did.  It began simply, with his hands continuing up under her skirt this last time, not stopping.  His thumbs brushed against all of the intricate and supple flesh folds between her legs, accidentally.  In truth, he was grabbing her ass with both hands, as splayed fingers proved, but his thumbs, they were close together, centered, and discovered where Keavy had been touching herself the night prior.   

Thistle didn't see it.  Sanguini looked like a mummy to him, without the wrappings, who wouldn't, or couldn't, stop wandering around acting like he was a pharoah surrounded by slaves.  Or slaves with Downs.  No, slaves with leprosy.  He didn't argue though, as it had been pointed out already that the Runic Witch was quite pleasing to the eye, so who was he to ... no, wait, he was spoken for and clearly uninterested in the Runes teacher.  Still, he didn't press it.  He was rewarded with things to be hopeful four, namely, hours with no where to be.

"Sterk is always unhappy about something."  He grumbled.  "Just wait until he finds out about us."  He hadn't meant to say it, and wished he hadn't afterwards, closing his eyes for a moment to mentally curse himself for being so obviously jealous.  "I will, of course, always be glad to hide you."  He added, attempting to move on.

*****************************

Lunch passed uneventfully, but easier than it had been.  He and Keavy traded secret glances and smiles, but Thistle was much more in the moment now, feeling better about them now that they had agreed to be an item.  It was funny, he never would have thought himself one for labels.  He hated labels in general as the minute you identify something as one thing, it becomes harder to see it as anything else.  Still, something about thinking of Keavy as his girlfriend put his heart at ease, even as it caused it to flutter.

Mostly, plans for the try outs were discussed, Rowan reiterating that EVERYONE had to try out, even herself, and that Professor Flitwick, the Grey Lady, and Headmistress McGonagall would all be assisting to keep things fair.

"T'ain't fair," commented Billy.  "Grey Lady' sin love wit' Thistle."

"Don't be a twat, Billy."  Rowan cut him off from continuing.  "Thistle's taken, and the Grey Lady seems to like Keavy."

The entire table got silent.  Thistle, who had been swallowing a spoonful of soup, suddenly looked up and around the table to the sound of crickets.  All they were missing were a couple of tumbleweeds.  "What?"  He said, defensively, looking around.  "Really?  Guys, I've talked about her almost constantly for three years."

"Thankfully not,"  Rowan said with a nudge, "Or you'd have no friends and be known as the guy with the imaginary girlfriend.  But," and she directed her words around the group of them, "Some of you don't know him that well, being from different years, but trust us, his friends.  Keavy is not a new facet to that which is Thistle."

"Maybe not," Cerridwen FitzLochlan spoke up, she was a 3rd year, and Tamlin's little sister.  Long locks of spun gold were back in intricate braids into a ponytail, tendrils framing a young face, pale, freckled, and skeptical. "But, I feel bad for her.  New school, new place, and she's locked into a relationship, with Thistle, from day one?  She'll be known as 'Thistle's Girlfriend.'" 

"So then don't call her that, Cerri."  Tamlin chided her, "Call her Keavy, and let it go.  All of you.  No one talks about this, around the school, do you understand me?  They can go public with it when they choose to."

"Ooooh shite, Thistle,"  Rowan swore, "I just realized I spilled the fuckin' beans on that one.  I'm sorry."  She patted his shoulder, but he shook his head.

"Don't be,"  Thistle frowned, "We're not hiding it, we're just not advertising it.  People will figure it out eventually."  The group got quiet for a few moments, no one saying anything at all, until...

"Well,"  Tali beamed a smile, "Rowan agreed to go out with me.  Maybe we can double up sometime."

"Yeah, Tali," Clive was laughing, "but we all saw that coming from last year.  Took you guys long enough, if you ask me."

Thistle blinked, looking around, "Well, I didn't know."  And everyone burst out into laughter.

*****************************

"We're just heading up to the Owl's roost through these doors over here,"  Thistle commented loudly to answer her question, as there were other students passing by.  He threw an arm around her, low, saying his hand was on her hip would have been misleading, but then, in her robes, not many would realize he'd found where the curve of her ass begun, hidden by the clothing.  He whispered softly, "With Hagrid's Office in an area that's too populated during the day, we need another place to study."  Hahaha, sure.  Study.  "Just focus, really hard, on what you want.  A private place to be alone, where we wont get caught."

Not only was there suddenly a door against the far wall, that Keavy was sure hadn't been there before, but she would have been fairly certain she watched it appear.  "There it is."  He said, sounding pleased with the results of her wishing.  "This door has our name written all over it.  This should be the Room of Requirement.  Go ahead, open it."  And he explained what little he knew about it as they approached the doorway.

Thistle was laughing as he rubbed his wrists where the bindings had been a bit of a surprise, rolling his shoulders and moving his body, now that he wasn't wound up with magical ribbon.  "Yeah, but we haven't seen each other since I left, four years ago, so we're reacquainting ourselves."  He didn't have to say just how thrilled he was to have Keavy back in his life.  It was written all over his face.  He held her wand out towards her, a single eyebrow lifted in silent question as he waited for her to take it and give him his own back.

When he looked up throughout the rest of the class, he kept finding people staring at him and it made him uncomfortable.  Potter, Lupin, other students, all for different reasons, but still, all watching him, or him and Keavy.  He stood a little closer to Keavy, unintentionally, but most wouldn't have noticed or would have thought the reason more illicit.  As the class wound down, the desks were put back to rights, the broken ones mended using the Reparo Charm, and the students began to collect up their things.

"No Homework for the whole week!"  Rowan was practically jumping up and down with excitement.  "Isn't that fantastic?!"  Tali, who was standing beside her, was beaming at her enthusiasm.

"Yes," he began, "But then, the other classes make up for it, don't they.  Especially Transfigurations.  New guy is kind of a ... well, a pompous jerk."

"Yeah!"  Thistle suddenly added, "I thought so too, but did you notice how uncharacteristically enraptured the rest of the class was?  Fucking weird.  I'm going to fight through it, but it's going to be a long class."

"Oh, come on now, boys."  Rowan was nudging Keavy conspiratorially, "I know you both think the new Runes Witch is gorgeous.  Let us enjoy the Transfigurations teacher."

Tali shrugged, "I don't take Ancient Runes.  No amount of sexy is going to help that boring ass subject.  Thistle only took it for the teacher."

"Pffft!"  Thistle blew him off, but laughed, "I had no idea who was teaching Runes before class began, and besides.  I'm spoken for."

"I FUCKIN' KNEW IT!"  Rowan hissed out in a whispered shout, "I fuckin' knew it!  Levitating feathers my arse, Dunwich!"  She was laughing as she said it, and beamed a smile at Keavy.  "You two deserve each other, that's great.  And if you break his heart, I'll ... well, you know."  They were moving out in a group, and she took hold of Tali's hand in hers as she began walking towards the Great Hall.  Looked like they were spoken for as well.

Thistle leaned against Keavy as they walked, very much like how her leg had leaned against him in class.  He let her and Syvanna talk, but when their conversation lulled, he spoke softly to Keavy.  "So ... After lunch I have like three hours downtime before ..."  He pulled out his schedule, it wasn't like him to forget a class.  "Oh.  Uhhh Interpersonal Relations ... Whatever that is.  We've never had this class before.  With Hufflepuff, so at least we'll be in it together."  He shrugged, stashing his schedule in the cover of a textbook.  "Was going to get some studying in before then, but was wondering what you had this afternoon?" 

Choir he wouldn't be able to watch, but if she did have Quidditch practice, he could study in the stands.  It was hard to know, this first week, which classes weren't active yet.  "Oh!  And you had said you got Seeker?  That is great, by the way.  I meant to say Congratulations to you for that, before." 

Thistle stood there, holding Keavy's wand and facing her, while around the room, all of the desks had been shoved aside so students could stand paired up and ready.  He smiled as he heard her reply, thinking that it sounded like him.  Dangerous, and in protectively love with Keavy.  In reality, he probably wasn't nearly as dangerous as the creatures that made up the wand he'd used for the last 6 years, but a 16 year old's sense of self worth usually ran in that direction.  Keavy may have thought he was adorable, but he liked dangerous better.

He hadn't felt anything yet, not at first, but he began to notice there was a cool breeze and a woodsy scent of ancient forests as the wand acknowledged him.  No, not like a wielder, but like a ... like a friend of a friend.  Charms were being shouted all around the room, but in general, most of the students were unable to make anything happen with their companion's wand.  It made sense, the wands had grown attached to their wizards and witches, but he had expected more.

"The difficulty you are experiencing,"  Professor Lupin began, walking among his old classmates, "Stems from the fact that you haven't earned the wand's respect.  You haven't won it, in a duel.  A wand that has a partner, requires the stranger to prove themselves worth.  Generally.  If you lose your wand in a fight, you can't just snatch up any old wand off the ground and be sure of victory.  Oh, you could wish for the best ..."  Just then, Tali attempted a Levitation Charm with Rowan's wand.  Three desks shot up into the ceiling like rockets, shattering on impact and crashing down into the floor.  "But ... as you can see, even best case scenarios can be more dangerous to you than to the intended target.  How about some gentler magics from now on, yes?"

"Lumos," Thistle whispered and the tip of Keavy's wand began to glow a soft, emerald green.  It hovered there, and then drifted slightly from the end, like a will-o-wisp dancing through the air.  Thistle, having used the wand, could have sworn her her childlike laughter and the sounds of distant music, "Your wand is as beautiful as you are."  He commented softly, and a few neighboring students giggled at his awe-sounding admission.  "It feels like ... like fae folk having a celebration in a woodland glen somewhere.  Nox"  The light dimmed and went out.

"Those are very specific descriptions."  Lupin was commenting, "More than most should have received.  We're looking for, a feeling of light, darkness, sun, rain, simple energy from the wand that reminds you of something."  To Keavy, he commented, "Have you been able to use the wand?  If Thistle had, and you can, it is possible your wands are recognizing the bond you both share."  Thistle had approached Keavy, intending on giving her her wand back, but at Professor Lupin's words, he stopped to let her try and cast something.

Professor Potter watched and listened as Keavy did her polite rant, looking proud of her few moments upon the soapbox.  He didn't say anything immediately, just stood there, looking contemplative.  His eyes, behind those round glasses, held a faraway look and his mouth curved into the faintest of smiles.  "You remind me of someone."  He finally stated, after a few moments.  "And of course, she would have been correct too.  It is ultimately the wizard, not the wand, who has control of the relationship, but the wand chooses the wizard, not the other way around, and the wand will have it's reasons."

Thistles fingertips, feather-light, fell upon Keavy's forearm, and he said, softly, "Sit, Keavy."  His face held a warm smile below reddened cheeks as she had embarrassed him with her loyalty, but in a good way.  "Thank you," he softly added, "that was sweet."  His fingers touched her hand, tips gentle against the side of it, against her own.  Not holding her hand, but just a light brush.

Tali, who had spoken already about his own wand, stood again then, "Professor?"  He paused, waiting for both pairs of eyes to fall upon him before he continued, "Couldn't it be a different reason?"  He looked like he was going to say more, but when he faltered, Rowan stood beside him, reaching out to touch his arm in a similar manner to how Thistle had with Keavy.

"Thistle is a good person, loyal and kind."  Rowan began.  It seemed as though Keavy had incited a revolution.  "He'd stand up for any one of his friends without a moment's thought.  We're his family, and have been for the last four years and,"  But Professor Potter raised his hands defensively, palms out.

"Ok, ok.  I believe I owe you all an apology for derailing the class.  Ironically, as I'd cautioned against superstitious thoughts, apparently, I may have some of my own.  Yes, most wands aren't sentient, and I have no reason to believe this one is.  It very well could have chosen Mr. Dunwich for a completely different reason than a proclivity for Dark Magic.  Hell, maybe he's just a dog person."  The whole class laughed at that one.  "As I said, my wand is Holly, and Holly is also known for choosing wizards who have a problem with impetuosity."  A larger laugh from the class, and even one from Professor Potter, as he looked sheepish and said, "Acting without thinking can be useful in the field, but in the classroom, not so much.  Again, I apologize for any offense.  Thistle, was it?  I am not going to penalize you if you choose to stick with this wand, so don't worry about that."  Everyone in the room heard the unspoken, 'but ...'  He obviously still felt Thistle should at least check, perhaps have his wand evaluated.

Thistle, who had taken a moment to run his hand over Keavy's thigh in a comforting stroke while no one was watching them, was already facing forward again, hands on his desk.  If he could have left his hand on her leg, he would have.  He had intended it to be comforting for her, but found it was soothing for himself as well.  Much like how, for the rest of the night prior, he could still feel her lips and tongue against his hours after, he could still feel her leg beneath his fingertips.  "Thank you, sir."  He answered, though left it at that.  He was, however, turning his wand in his hand and looking down on it, obviously considering his wand with a deeper thought than previous.

"And really," Potter added quickly, "any one of you could benefit from such a trip.  It's not always likely, but you never know.  Though, if you are in possession of a hand-me-down wand, and can afford one, I suggest finding one more attuned to you specifically."  And with that, his eyes roamed the group until falling on Syvanna.  "And continuing on ..."  The rest of the class was specifically on wands, discussion of woods and cores, and the debate over multiple wands vs. staying with one."

"If you win a wand in a duel, you would have multiple wands." "One will always still function better for you, though perhaps not the one you began with."  "Can multiple wands choose you in stores?"  "My brother got a new wand when he graduated and began working.  It chose him, worked better, but he didn't need two wands.  My wand used to be his."  "What if one wand was better with healing charms and the other worked better with duels?  Wouldn't you keep both on you?"  "Generally no, most wizards stick with their favored wand, even after a duel."  "What about if you are disarmed?  A spare would help!"  And so on and so forth, the class becoming a conversation that grew like a living creature, but didn't always provide satisfactory answers.  It seemed much was simply 'How it's always been,' or 'Perhaps Ollivander himself would know?'  Thistle wasn't as much a part of the discussion, but he was listening and following along, though his eyes were almost always on Keavy, rather than the speakers.

Thistle accepted his broom back graciously, cast a Reducio Charm on it that shrank it down to the size of a pen, and slipped it into his robes for later.  Magic certainly made life easier.  As everyone was so chatty, he just smiled a greeting to Keavy as she sat beside him, excited for class to begin.  If there was any class he enjoyed as much as Creatures, this was it.  It was a lot more theory than practice, which sort of blew, but he kept hoping for something more like when they'd learned the Riddikulus Charm as third years.  That had been fun.

"Ain't cursed anymore, Chicachi."  Taliesin MacManus was walking over calm as could be.  He nodded to those who greeted him, but then he was still talking to Syvanna, "Not since Professor Potter defeated You-Know-Who.  People just don't want it now.  Superstitious. Teddy does though, so maybe it'll change, but way back when, no one lasted more than a year because, You-Know-Who was denied the position."

"I saved you a seat, Tali."  Rowan beamed up at him and Thistle would have stated her eyes seemed more sparkly than normal, if he wasn't so busy trying to reply to Keavy, but no one seemed to want him to speak today.  As Tali got comfortable, Rowan mentioned the underclassmen who'd run up to talk to Thistle about his earlier actions.  He lifted a hand to rub the back of his head, laughing sheepishly as it appeared he was showing off, even though he wasn't the one talking.

He would have explained how, but then Teddy walked in and introduced himself to the class.  He'd just have to wait to speak until later.  Then a man in his 30's with straight, black hair and round glasses stepped out of the office and into the classroom.  "Which is why I will be here, along for the ride this year.  Most of you know me, and all of you know Teddy, but I want to stress to you, please, remember it's Professor Lupin and Professor Potter.  McGonagall may not be able to take points from us anymore,"  He said with a smile that broke into a chuckle when he rubbed the back of his head and added, "But she's still not someone I want to cross."

Instead of Teddy speaking, Potter continued talking.  "Generally, Professor Lupin will run the class, but I'd like to take the reins for the moment.  Just for this first week.  Firstly,"  He motioned to Taliesin, who was watching him close enough that no one, except Keavy and Thistle who could see it clearly, would have noticed Tali and Rowan had their closest legs pressed together between the desks.  Thistle wondered if this was something new, or if it had developed over the summer.  He had spent time at both houses during the break, not for long, but neither of them had mentioned it.  "Superstitions, you mentioned, in the same breath you said, 'You-Know-Who?'  The first rule to fighting dark wizards that you need to know is to not give them anymore power than they already have.  Or in this case, had.  But regardless, call him Voldemort.  Don't be superstitious, yourself."  He grinned, finding humor in this moment for instruction.

"But secondly, I've been going over the courses and there's been much too much theory involved and not nearly enough practical application."  He was walking around the front of the room, eyes flitting from pupil to pupil, while Teddy lounged behind him smiling, resting back against the front of his desk.  "If you leave here and run into a dark wizard, are you going to fight with theory?  No.  The most important weapon you have, will be knowledge and practice, but to apply it requires one, key element."

He drew his wand out of his blazer, holding it out so everyone could see it.  "Holly, 11 inches long, with a phoenix feather at its core.  Very similar to my first wand, this one, and, to we have a close relationship.  I practice, and practice, to bond with my wand.  Being an Auror, I need to be ready at a moment's notice, and sure of my spellwork.  But anyone could need to react without any time to think.  How well do you know your wand?  How well do you trust it?  The first step in this is knowing your wand's strengths and weaknesses.  So, as if this were a first day with a new group, we're going to introduce ourselves around the room.  But, not as people, tell me about your wand and show me a simple charm you're quite confident with.  I want you to pay attention to the difference between the woods, but also the ... feel, of the spell produced.  Anyone who can tell me about their wand wood and core, what's special about it, doesn't have any homework this week.  Anyone who can't, well, you need to be able to tell me about it next class."

And with that, students began to stand and present their wands, various woods with various personalities.  He hadn't asked about cores, as there were really only three of them, but the first person with each core did make mention of it.

When it got to Thistle, he lifted his wand and said clearly, "Swamp Mayhaw, 13 and 1/3 inches long, with ..." But he didn't get to finish as Professor Potter suddenly spoke.

"Rougarou hair.  Where did you get this wand?"  He didn't sound like a teacher anymore, but ... more like a police officer.  Or an Auror.  "How does a wand like this come into the hands of a 16 year old?"

Teddy had leaned forward, touching Professor Potter's arm gently, "That is Thistle Dunwich, from America.  He received his wand straight from Ilvermorny when you enrolled, didn't you, Thist?"

But Potter was shaking his head.  "No, no, no, there was only ONE wand maker in America who made these and she's long gone.  They discovered what she was using in her wands, wands which take to Dark Magic the way a vampire takes to blood.  Ilvermorny destroyed the remaining stock."

Finally, Thistle had had enough of being talked over.  "Yes, Professor, they had.  But, when asked to feel for a suitable wand, I found this one hidden in the back and was allowed to keep it as it's chosen me.  They had forgotten about a back crawlspace off the office, found quite a few old wands from ... I don't know.  Think they said a hundred years back."

Professor Potter was going to continue, but Thistle was retrieving his broom from within his robes.  Showing off again, Thistle?  As if to prove a point about how close he and his wand already were, he performed the Engorgio Charm on his broom, silently.  They'd only done the Leviosa so far, but sure enough, his broom swelled to full size and Thistle began to explain the parts he'd placed together and the weaves of different charms used in making it.  "And all with this wand."  He settled back, looking as though he'd taken offense to an insult against his wand.  "And you had asked about the 'feel?'  I'd think a better word for evaluating the spells would be their 'scent.'  The various charms smell different, and smell seems to be different based on the wand used as well."  He seemed to think this was normal, that he was helping.

Rowan leaned over and whispered, "You smell magic, Thist?" with a quirked brow, but Potter wasn't done yet.

Professor Potter watched him curiously for a second, lost in thought or reading something about the 6th year Ravenclaw who was so proud of his Frankenbroom.  Finally, he said, not unkindly, but determined.  "This weekend.  Go to Hogsmeade, go to Ollivander's, and please, request a new wand.  Then, destroy that one, before someone else uses it."  He began to turn to look at Keavy, but his eyes lingered on Thistle.  Before Keavy got a chance to speak he added, to the room, "Even a dark wand can be used for good, but general consensus is there is something ... wrong, with Violetta Beauvais' wands.  I know, many famous people have used them in American History, but ... Better safe than sorry."  Then, as an aside to Thistle, "And it isn't JUST rougarou hair.  She tipped many of her cores with a werewolf's claw or a vampire's fang.  It is hard to know what a Swamp Mayhaw has within it for this reason, but ... Multicore wands are excellent for parallel casting, like you did with your ingenious weave."  He nodded towards the full sized broom Thistle was still holding.  "Leading me to believe you may have one of these multicore wands.  But again, please, consider my suggestion and exercise caution."

And with that, he turned to look upon Keavy and said, pleasantly, "And your wand, Miss ... ?"  He wouldn't know Thistle's mom by a No-Maj's surname, but he would know Keavy's parents.  Chances were good, he would be speaking to them later about the Dunwich boy she seemed to be close to.

Thistle had wanted to spend more time with Keavy after breakfast, but he had to run to Flitwick's office for his broom and Syvanna was adamant that they needed to get to Transfigurations.  Until then, however, it was a large group of kids socializing.  It was nice, actually, all of his friends were getting to know her and she had Syvanna on her side, as well as a few lingering Hufflepuffs he didn't know the names of.  He had wanted to kiss her, so badly, to touch her again, but something in her face had him hold off.  He wasn't upset by it, she was too openly happy to be beside him, and secretly, down low where no one was looking, he let his pinky rub up against hers in a low-key affection to let her know just how much he had missed her.

"Well, at least Thist is acting more normal," Rowan said, "You should have seen how out of it he was at breakfast."

Thistle, who was much more aware of the moment, cocked his head to the side in a strangely dog-like look of confusion, which more than Keavy may have noticed.  "What?  I was just tired."  He explained, and actually, he looked it.  Something about his eyes and the occasional yawn that would break free.

"Did you make another broom last night?"  Clive had asked, but Billy smacked him in the back of the head.

"Naw, y'idiot.  'E was teachin' Keavy 'ow t'make things rise, r'member?"  He laughed as he said it, making sure the double entendre was clearly witnessed by his target audience of: Everyone.

Thistle choked as if he'd been drinking still, which he wasn't, but it was Rowan who reached over to smack Billy, "Don't be such an arse, Boggles."  There were a few others who had lingered around the group who were watching them with shocked faces, and Rowan snapped at them, "He was teaching her to do the non-verbal Leviosa Charm!  Don't believe everything you hear!"  Rowan may have been a little thrown by the idea of Thistle and Keavy together, but she was still nothing but nice to the new girl and truly seemed to want to be her friend.

Unfortunately, Syvanna chose that moment to drag Keavy off and Thistle remembered he had to run.

***Herbology***

His broom had been cleaned of any speck of dirt and cleared of hexes.  Flitwick had also taken the liberty of re-calibrating it and explained that, while the wood wasn't at fault, in now actually believed itself to be a single object and wasn't held together strictly by Glue Charms.  He made it clear that he was still impressed by the ingenuity, and was sure Thistle would be able to improve upon such tinkerings in the future.  Thistle, who had been running late after listening to the excited little man's explanations, had darted out of the room and leaped clear out the window!

Students from all over in the hallway gasped as they ran to see, realizing only after that He had been holding a broom and was now soaring down from the main building and towards the greenhouse.  He would make it to class, but if any staff had seen him, Ravenclaw was likely to have points deducted for his reckless behavior.

Longbottom was a nice professor.  He could be stern, but not really and fairly rarely.  Generally, he gave his students the benefit of the doubt and guided them with a gentle hand into the world of plants.

Holy fuck, was Thistle bored.  He was trying to figure out what the differences were between Wolfsbane and Monkshood, but the only plants he wanted to dwell upon were the fruits of Keavy's chest.  Still, he managed to buckle down and even learned something ahead of time for Ghoul Studies as it was mentioned that most stakes, for hunting Vampires, were made out of Ash, Aspen, or Yew.  It reminded him that he still needed to read that chapter before his next class, which wasn't tonight, but he was bound to have even more homework and he was realizing that he may have a problem focusing when Keavy was around.

Speaking of Keavy ... class was ending and they had Defense Against the Dark Arts next, together, and with that Potter fellow from the Ministry who would be teaching Apparitions.  Lupin would be there, that Hufflepuff kid who graduated last year, or the year before, but apparently, while training, he was given assistance by someone who Thistle had assumed had no teaching experience whatsoever.

"Nah, nah, mate," Rowan had explained as they were hurrying between classes, "Potter teaches Defense all the time, but never a whole year of it.  He usually just comes in for specific lectures.  Teddy should be teaching it on his own next year, but they're easing him into it.  He was friends with Longbottom when they went to Hogwarts.  Same house and class, Gryffindor.  Oh!  Check those Frogs Clive gave you.  I bet you got a Potter card in there.  World works fucking weird like that."

"He's on a Frog card?"  Thistle looked skeptical, but Rowan just laughed.

"Take a Hogwarts history class, Yankee Doodle." This from Clive, who'd made the joke about it before, "He was 'The Boy Who Lived.' Remember?"

They were approaching the room, when Thistle saw Keavy approaching from the other side.  Stupid Kool-Aid smile was suddenly plastered across his face.

"Billy was right, Row-Row," Clive commented to Rowan. "Bug bit him bad."

She only shook her head, "Think about it, Clive.  All the conversations she's come up in?  He's always been in love with her."  She looked over at Thistle and shook her head, but she was smiling, "The idiot just didn't realize it.  Dumbest.  Ravenclaw.  Ever."

Before Thistle could greet Keavy, Rowan grabbed him by the back of the robes and yanked him into the class.  Clive, who was only a 5th year, kept on going.  "C'mon, Romeo."  She commented offhand as she manhandled Thistle down a few steps, keeping him off balance and then shoving him into a chair with a smirk.  She yanked his broom from his stunned hand and laid it down over the next two desks beside him on the Hufflepuff side, now officially reserved for Keavy and Syvanna, by schoolyard rules of 'dibs.'  Rowan took her seat beside Thistle, on the other side of him, and left her bag in the next one over, keeping it reserved for one of the other Ravenclaws, though offhand, Thistle couldn't figure out who.  She looked pretty smug as she said, "I even saved a seat for her, but if I let you two meet up out in the hallway, you'll end up late for a class you're standing right in front of."

There was a quietness to Thistle as she relaxed against him and he kissed her softly, anywhere he could reach.  They may have been finished, but his hands didn't remain to himself, lightly fondling the girl upon him and reaching out to touch her as she walked by, once she'd gone to dress.  Poor Thistle felt like he hadn't had enough, and wasn't aware yet that he'd never have enough, but instead be always looking forward to their next encounter with a needy desire for her.  She tossed him his clothing, but he dressed slowly, watching her as she got dressed, stripping in reverse, as it were.  He just stared with this silly little smile upon his face.  She was so beautiful, she was the one thing he always wanted back in his life, and now she was.  "Thank you," he said towards her compliment, but added, "As much as I may enjoy that, you may find that levitation charm you just learned works well on short skirts and while the first years still have to speak, our entire class just learned how to do such silently." 

He walked her towards the Hufflepuff Common Room entrance, where he would climb up the long sets of stairs to find Ravenclaw Tower.  As she drew close to kiss him, he licked his tongue out along her lips, his hands caressing her soft bottom and offering it a little squeeze.  He was growing bolder and more confident now that they'd had a successful encounter.  "You're already in my dreams at night," and whisper added, "but now I'll know what your breasts feel like."  He smiled, winked at her, and headed up the stairs, though he stopped off in a bathroom to relieve himself of a certain tension in the privacy of a stall.

***Breakfast***

Thistle was exhausted, he'd had so much trouble sleeping the night before.  It felt like she'd awakened something within him that didn't want to be quenched and masturbation was not helping him as it should have.  He hadn't worked on his broom at all, but hopefully he'd get Frankenbroom back from Flitwick and it will have been both cleansed of the Confundus and any other ailments hexed upon it.  Flitwick was going to teach him to read the item later, to detect magic and dispel what was found.  If he became really good at it, he might even know who the caster was, but those tended to reply more on knowing the individual rather than the spell.

"You ok, Thist?"  Rowan was asking him, "You seem really out of it."  She was watching him with concern as he'd just taken a sip of the pancake syrup, rather than his pumpkin juice.  Clive relieved him of the syrup, looking at it suspiciously, but then ended up using it on his pancakes anyway.  Thistle was going the eggs, ham, and bacon route.

"Huh?"  He asked, licking his lips as they tasted so strange.  He hadn't even realized the syrup had been taken from him, and had picked up his juice to smell it, unsure if maybe it had gone bad.  A second sip and it seemed to be ok.  Maybe there had been syrup on the rim of his glass.

"Ok,"  Rowan's plate of waffles was completely untouched, she was watching him so intently, "Something is wrong with you, Thist.  I'm gonna take you to the infirmary."  She'd begun to rise, but then paused, watching him.  Thistle was waving to Keavy who'd just walked into the great hall.  He had a sheepish smile upon his face and his cerulean eyes were sparkling so much they were practically glowing.

"Oi, sit Rowan.  Eat your food,"  Billy said, laughing, "e's jus' been bit s'all.  By that bug.  Fuck, Row-Row.  An' here, I thought Thist was gay."  Billy was shoveling forkfulls of food into his face, and was surprisingly easier to understand.  More directly to Thistle, lowering his face and leaning over to get in his line of sight, "Study date go well, then?"

Thistle turned back to them after exchanging a smile with his girl, no idea what they were talking about.  "What?  Oh, yeah.  It went great!  She was able to do the Leviosa Charm without speaking before she went back to her dorms."  He couldn't go into detail, they had never discussed whether their decision to go together should be public knowledge, but it didn't matter anyway.  They all knew, just by watching him.  Gorgeous girl like her, and she very well may have been the hottest girl in the school, that new Hufflepuff girl.  For whatever reason, she liked Thistle.  He was in Man's heaven.

"Oh?  An' what was'it she made rise, ey?"  Billy had a smile on his face, but Thistle didn't catch the innuendo at first.

"Oh christ, Billy.  Thistle! Oi, mate!"  Clive was saying, "You need to snap out of it.  You need to do well at the try outs tonight if you want to remain Ravenclaw's Keeper, yeah?  I'm gonna make the team this year and it'll be shite if I get on and you don't."

Rowan looked torn, considering not making Thistle try out, but just try others against the Keeper she knew him to be, but there was no way around it.  "Thist'll make the team, Clive.  He always does.  If that broom gives him trouble, he'll be able to use a spare and go again, so no worries."  But she was worried too.  Even she would be up against other candidates for Seeker, Thistle needed to be on his game.  She picked at her waffles slowly, nervous about how tonight would go.

Thistle, on the other hand, was oblivious, sneaking glances at his sweetheart from where he worked his way through breakfast, once again not really paying attention to his house mates.  He had a free period before Herbology, and he planned to run over to Charms and grab his broom before he needed to be there.  Professor Longbottom never cared too much if they were late, but he wanted to do his best not to miss anything.  Herbology was not one of his stronger classes, unless the plant in question skirted the line of Magical Creatures, like with the Mandrake Roots.

Thistle thought that going back was probably a good idea.  She was right, and he nodded his head without removing her hand from his mouth.  They could spend the night and not get caught, but as soon as someone wanted to know where she'd been all night, there would be issues, and he was pretty sure there were two people, at least, anxiously waiting her return to Hufflepuff's common room.  He wondered, idly, if the results from the evening's Quidditch Try Outs had been posted yet and remembered that he'd never worked on another broom.  He should have cared more, but with Keavy half-naked and slowly riding his lap, he couldn't get himself to care about anything else.  There was just her.  Keavy, and her softness, and his mouth on her skin, where it should be.

He removed her hand from his mouth so his could join his other upon her chest.  There was no rational example for why this was so much fun for him, but he was sure he could spend the entire school year doing nothing but fondling her body if she'd let him.  But, again, she was pulling back from him.  This time, however, she didn't move from his lower thighs and knees, but perched, leaning back and looking down at her jeans.  He followed her gaze, not quite realizing her pants were soaked through, but he didn't have time to figure it out as her hands suddenly began unbuttoning her pants.  Thistle was overwhelmed, wondering if this meant they were going to do more instead of departing, and watched as her hand disappeared into the open front of her jeans.

The sounds she was restraining did something to him, built a different sort of energy within him as he leaned closer to her face, watching her face, rather than her hand, though she wouldn't know as her eyes were closed.  There was something about her pleasure being visibly written across her face, that meant more to him than he could have expected.  The only thing better, would have been if he was causing that breathing, that rosey cheeked, flushed face, lip biting, and those moans she was refusing to release.  Probably safer that way, in case someone walked by, but he couldn't help himself.  His hands kneaded her breasts softly, a finger on each playing with her nipples, as he leaned close enough to rub the side of her face with his own.  His breath was hot as he whispered, "Don't hold back, baby.  I want to hear you."  And then nipped at her ear.

He suckled and nibbled the edge, lobe, and then traveled along her jaw before his mouth opened more to lock onto her neck.  He moved around her neck, soft nibbles and gentle bites slowly increasing along with the suckling kisses.  She'd taken one of his hands from her chest and slowly began to suck on his finger as she grinded into him.  He moaned, so loudly, it must have echoed, but so far, they were still alone.  She lifted her breasts to his face, released his hand to pull his mouth against her hot skin, and he complied easily.  Her nipples took turns vanishing into his mouth, but he didn't focus just their.  His mouth traveled the whole width and breadth of her enticing breasts, sucking and biting as though he were walking around using his mouth.  The whole time, he'd pause to tell her, "Don't hold back, let me hear how good it feels."  And then his teeth would find purchase, a much more skilled nip that belonged to a more advanced lover than he.  Two fingers were in her mouth, and they were driving him wild, on the verge of coming himself, but his desire to help her through her climax gave him the focus to remain attentive.

As if to reward her, as she slowly began to make more noise, one of his hands found the forearm of the disappearing hand and his fingers and palm followed it down, between the parted zipper and undone button.  He didn't try to take over, it was almost as though, she'd not presented that part of herself to him, so he still felt it was off limits, but his hand disappeared nonetheless.  His hand lay gently aback hers, fingers parting to rest upon her fingers, feeling them moving, feeling the thumbs back and forth motions.  His hand moved against hers, making sure to remain on her hand and not to proceed too much further, he felt her as she began to bring herself over.  Her nipple popped from his mouth as his face sought hers again, and he moved in to kiss her gasping mouth, nibbling on her lower lip.  His eyes were open the entire time.  She didn't look stupid, she looked wonderful.  "C'mon, Keavy.  Come for me.  I want to hear it.  I want to feel it."  He whispered softly, and then latched onto her neck to continue his affections.  As she released his fingers, his hand, wet with her saliva found a comfortable place to rest, holding the breast that had been half neglected as that hand had been so busy.

His hand, on hers, remained through the experience, resting upon the back of her hand lightly as she slowed down and, panting like mad, apologized.  "There is nothing to be sorry about.  It's me, Keavy."  As her hand withdrew and lifted, his held it, both wet with her fluids.  His fingers curled around her hand, gently.  "This is how it should be.  You and me.  So why would I think less of you?"  He carried her hand away from her own mouth, and to his, where he licked her wetted digits and let one disappear into his mouth as he tasted her with a murring moan.  She may have been calming, but he was raging hard beneath her as he panted with need, sucking on her finger, and it took all of his willpower not to dry hump her until he finished as well.