hogwartsexpressed | the woods are lovely, dark and deep

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the woods are lovely, dark and deep

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𝟏 𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒐𝒓 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 – Maybe you zigged when you should have zagged, but either way, you don’t know where you are, or how to get back to where you’re supposed to be. Alternately, you’re part of the search party sent to go find the missing person, careful you don’t end up lost yourself!

𝟐 𝒅𝒆𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 – Whatever you did you’ve ended up out in the forest after dark following after The Groundskeeper (or maybe you are the Groundskeeper). Careful, don’t hang too far back from the rest of the group, it’s dangerous out there.

𝟑 𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒌𝒚 𝒃𝒖𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔 – Sure there might be spiders and centaurs, along with who knows what else, but you can’t deny how private the forest is, and how easy it is to steal away behind a tree with that certain somebody.

𝟒 𝒓𝒖𝒏𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒏 𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒅/𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒂𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒈 – Maybe you’re after some extra credit, or just trying to suck up to a professor, heck, maybe you’re a professor trying to date a professor, or maybe it’s a full moon and you’re after some Fluxweed, either way, better be quick about it!

𝟓 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒔 𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒔! – Death Eaters in the castle! Drama in Ravenclaw Tower! A Professor turned evil! An emotional exit and storming off turned cataclysmic! Dragons! Something serious has happened to bring you to the forest today!

𝟔 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 – A Rite of Passage? Or maybe you lost a bet or ran your mouth too much for too long. Whatever happened it’s time to put up or shut up and gain bragging rights for the rest of the term.

𝟕 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒇𝒍𝒆𝒆! – Whatever it was you were just doing, it’s time to get away, and what better way to make sure your retreat is covered than to cut a path through the Forbidden Forest?

𝟖 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒐𝒏 𝒂 𝒉𝒊𝒌𝒆 – You don’t get why everyone thinks this place is dangerous, you love coming to the forest for some fresh air and creature spotting/hiking/bird watching.

𝟗 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒐𝒃𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒂𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒚 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒘𝒐𝒍𝒇/𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒎𝒂𝒈𝒖𝒔 𝒐𝒑𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 – Exactly what it says on the tin.

𝟏𝟎 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒅! – Go wild! Live your life!

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He hadn't woken up that day aware he was going to be pushed against a tree by a beautiful woman, but he was completely there and willing to have the tide turn in this direction. Catching her around the middle in his arms he laughed a little and leaned down to kiss along her throat.

"Merlin's beard, Fleur, something you're after?" There was something he was fairly sure they were both here for, but he wanted to tease her just a little anyway. As though she didn't have him hook line and sinker.

Inhaling the scent of her skin Bill's hand moved to her side and slipped beneath the fabric under her top, growling under his breath as he nipped the curve of her throat and pulled her flush against him.

"Yes," she hisses, when his lips find her neck. Her head tips back, letting him have the access he wants, and she sinks her fingers into his hair to hold him there. He'll tell, by the fast beating of her heart and the blush in her cheeks, and her body arching to be closer, that she went from zero to a hundred with the first kiss to her neck. And it should not be as arousing as it is, but there's something about Bill nosing her throat and that rumble in his chest practically vibrating against her bones...

In short, she wants him. So much it aches.

So with one hand firmly grabbing his hair, she moves the other one down and slips her fingers under the waistband of his trousers, tugging him against her. "Yes - William -" And then he nips her throat and she shivers from her head to her toes, and chokes out a, "Please."

His hand moved over her side and down, grabbing the swell of her hip and pulling her against him as she grabbed his trousers and did the same to her. Bill's teeth grazed along her neck, leaning back into the tree for a moment longer before he moved with unexpected swiftness, spinning them around so that he could press her back against the tree.

The corners of his lips twitched in a smirk when she had gone so far as to say please, and he rocked himself against her in response, biting and kissing his way down her neck while the hand not holding her hips against his moved up her side and over her stomach, seeking out the curve of her breast.

"Right here?" He asked in an almost dangerously low voice as he pressed against her once more, making it unclear if he was asking about the tree or the direction this was hurtling in.

However unclear the question may have been, the answer would have been the same. She tells him, hissed softly, "Yes," and with the tree at her back now, she pushes herself back against it to cant her hips just so and rub against him, just so. "Oh, putain," slips out, a marvelled breath, because he feels so...

Right. Perfect. Hers.

(Ten years ago, her mother sat her down and explained in simple terms that pure-Veelas chose mates, just like werewolves were known to. In a version of The Talk that she knows was later given to Gabrielle when she reached the age, maman had been clear that having even part of the magical creatures' blood in their family meant things. Women looking altogether too desireable. Feeling emotions far too strongly.

For the longest time, the emotion Fleur had felt the strongest had been frustration, at the injustice of the world. But not now - now, her blood sings for him, and it sounds like,)

"Bill." She abandons getting his pants open and rakes her nails down his clothed chest, before plunging her fingers through his hair and yanking him up, so she can fucking kiss him already, oh yes, oh yes - "Mine."

Bloody wank shit fuck pants.

Or at least, his actions would elude to that string of expletives featuring heavily in his vehement train of thought as he pulled away in frustrated, heated gruffness. With a preciseness only afforded by the all-consuming urgency that sets in just before the very first time his hands found the closure of her slacks and made short work of the fastening. It pained him but he was quick as he pulled away from the perfect way she felt against his chest to slide her pants down the curves of her mindbendingly beautiful legs, fussing by her ankles to free one of them from these hateful, horrible, pants.

Next time this would be easier, but there was no time to lament a silly thing like that when her thigh cradled in the palm of his hand, warm and soft and he was guiding it to settle on his hip as he pushed his own trousers down enough to free himself, his cock aching against the open air, throbbing as his head swam with need.

"Fleur," her name on his lips might have been little more than a whisper but it practically simmered with all the want and devotion growing within him every day he got to see her face. Pushing her panties to the side, Bill's thumb ran along her slit, his body singing with need as a soft but ravenous growl rumbled in his throat. His lips found hers before he managed to quiet himself kissing her as the pad of his finger teased over her clit, dead and brought back to life in the span of a heartbeat by how warm, and wet, and real she was. How his she was. "Yours," his hips tipped towards her as he said it, purred against her lips, and his hand left that bundle of nerves between her thighs just long enough to guide himself to press at her entrance before returning to its delicately persistent work. "Fleur," for all the hunger he had kissed her with it drained away into ragged awe and he had no choice but to say her name, lingering there for a second as he let the entire galaxy hang by a thread before rocking forward slowly and sinking into her.

She has a lot of expeletives left to sigh into the air, her head tipped back against the tree for balance while he works her pants down. Her heartbeat is a thunderous thing, and she knows without him checking first that she'll be so wet even the simplest of touches will set her off.

But he kisses her first, so when he does touch her, her groan is buried against her lips, a little sob cutting it off as his finger finds her clit. Clever man - her clever man.

"I'm not going to let you go," she warns him, in heated whispers, while he calls himself hers, and his cock brushes against her and her head swims. "Ever."

For now, that means she hikes her leg further up on his hip, opening up for him, eager and ready and honestly, begging for it, in English, in French - she'd do it in old Latin right now if she could. Just so she's at level, she pushes herself up to her toes on her other foot, which has the beautiful, delicious consequence of feeling him slowly sink into her.

"Bill," she chokes out, and grabs onto his shoulders with both hands, nails digging into his skin through the fabric, and with that for a grip, she brings her other leg up around his waist and takes him in to the hilt in one sharp thrust down.

Once he's buried inside her, his body curving around hers as he intends to do as much as she'll let him for the rest of his life he lifted his thumb away from her clit, groaning in reluctance even as he brought that hand to her other leg, squeezing the round of her hip. Mind reeling as he brought her other leg up, his chest pressing to hers to pin her back against the tree and keep them both upright, his cock buried inside of her.

Bill's mouth drew back from hers, his attention focused on the feel of her body and the sound of her voice. He thought he could feel her heart against his chest, though from the way his own boomed against his ribs it might have been impossible but to feel anything but the rush of his blood and the heat of her around him. Their bodies positioned in such a way that he couldn't pull away from her even if he wanted to Bill rolled his hips, thrusting into her slowly, his body seeking to drive as deeply into her as he could each time.

"You're perfect," yes she was beautiful, yes, she was extraordinary, but she was so much more. Fiery and brilliant and soft and warm. The scent of her skin filled his head. Bills lifted his head enough to looked down at her, thunderstruck at the sight of her face at that moment. "Mine," he didn't ask it, and his hips moved forward in a brief burst of rough quickness, as his half-closed eyes watched her face eagerly for a response.

He didn't need to ask it - she was. She would be. She had known it from the moment her eyes caught sight of him, back at Hogwarts, only she'd been too young then, and had narrowly avoided death by dragon, so her interest hadn't been fully captivated.

But he's got her now. Hard earned, through blood and sweat and tears - her fingertips whisper across the scar that slashes his face, before curling over the line of his jaw so she can pull him down and brush her lips against the same spot too. How close that had been - and then the war followed, her own sense of guilt haunting her and hounding her for almost a year, and the battle itself. It's either a miracle they've lasted this long, or pure idiocy.

He brings her right back to her senses, though, filling her hip with a sharp thrust that has her gasping for air, her head tipping back against the tree. The sharp bark tugs her sharp little chignon loose, hair falling loose.

"Keep going," she whispers, voice low and raw. "Keep going, William, please..."

He loved her, and maybe he always had, from their first conversation when she had taken up at Gringott's until now. She had always held him in her thrall. Not like this though, nothing was like this.

Every move she made in response to the way he drove himself into her only urged him on, his nerves singing with need. He pushed it from his thoughts as far as he could, ignoring the beginnings of a knotting, molten tension at the core of him so that he could focus on the flash of her throat as she gasped for air, and the way they came together made her pale eyes burn in a way he had never seen before. Like a star, like a whole universe, and again he drove into her with that rough urgency that pressed her back against the tree, her hair falling like moonlight on a field of tall soft grass across her cheek.

"Perfect," the word rumbled out as he squeezed his eyes closed for just a second, in dire need to both thrust into her as hungrily as his body urged him to, and get a hold of himself and make the moment last.

They may have done this all backwards, but she knows that going forwards they'll do it right. Or they'll continue to be a mess, but at least they'll be a mess together - regardless of the option, when he holds her like this she has no more doubts for the future, and that is bliss. Pure bliss.

And pure, blazing heat. Fiendfyre, turned corporeal. Is this what the bond feels like, or is it the possibility of it?

He is holding back, instinct tells her, and she notices it in the tightness in his jaw. In reaction, she runs her nails up his back, and catches his lower lip between her teeth to tug, once. "I'm not going to break," she murmurs, then flicks her tongue along the seam of his lips before pulling back to look at him. "You move like you're trying to take this slowly, when we both know we need it hard."

Unfairly, she presses a kiss to the tip of his nose. "Now fuck me, Bill."

When she told him how hard they needed it his knees almost gave out from under him and the kiss dusted to his nose pulled a stunned grin out of him. "Fleur," he warned in a rush of hot breath, his body seeming to surge against hers, eager to respond to that gentle but still firm request and give her precisely what they both wanted.

His hand gripped her thigh, holding her against the tree as he rocked into her hard, his heart in his throat as he moved against her as relentlessly as he wanted to, while his orgasm built at the ends of his nerves and sang through his blood.

"Perfect," she gasps out, with the first surge of his hips, her legs locking behind him in as fierce a grip as she can manage, just enough to hold on while letting him move with free reign.

She wasn't lying, when she asked for it hard. This feels so necessary, so perfect, so - "So close..."

They're far enough from the castle grounds that the sounds of skin against skin don't carry, but she still chooses to muffle her cries by pressing her lips against the side of his neck, pressing urgent kisses there while she clamps and flutters around him. It's the fact that between one thrust and the next, she angles her hips just enough to make him rub against her clit with ever snap forward, what ultimately does it for her. An intense orgasm tears through her, and she is pure instinct, feral need - nails against his back, teeth against his shoulder, her grip on his cock vicious and greedy and slick.

It's all so much, and it had been that much since she kissed him and led them both here. Now, his hips juddering in a rhythm that tightened the closer his own orgasm came, a coiling heat in the core of his body pleading to be relented to. He wanted to, he wanted everything, he wanted every breath she drew and every cry he coaxed out of her with the hungry roll of his hips.

She filled him with fire as her body tightened around him, leaving him bowled over in a haze of wet, tight heat. While he's tempted to slow down and ease her down from that peak the need for her pinging over every inch of his skin like static electricity urges him on, driving into her until the corded muscle of his arm tenses and his hands are sinking greedily into the flesh of her thigh, wanting to leave more than fingerprints behind.

The bite of her nails and the sharp edge of her teeth were more than any mortal could be expected to bear, and as he growled so low it felt almost hot in his chest, every cell in his body set alight he shuddered against him, a strangled groan muffled against her neck.

Overwhelmed, Bill didn't say anything for a long moment before, from the fragrant silky depths of her hair, where he'd nosed his face even as he delicately lowered her back onto her own feet, he spoke.

"Come home with me." Tonight. Tomorrow night. Any night. Every night.

At this point, when he tightens his grip on her and fucks her faster and harder, he could leave bruises on her thighs and she'd thank him for it. It doesn't magically throw her into another orgasm, but it's close, at least because he growls and it sets her blood alight, legs wrapped tight around him.

She's too soon left empty, at least that's what it feels like. This little tryst in the woods has left her needing more of him, so much more, so when he speaks, she rushes to answer.

"Yes." It's breathless, and followed by a quick, hard kiss, laughter bubbling out. "Yes, yes." And another kiss after that, before she presses her forehead to his and takes a calm breath.

"I meant it, William," she whispers, cupping his face gently now. "I'm not letting you go."

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the woods are lovely, dark and deep

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