The newest batch of Hogwarts students have entered this historic school and no one knows how their future will turn out - will you be a quidditch pro or maybe a prefect? The year is now 2021, and now it's time for the next generation to make their mark. The newest batch of Hogwarts students have entered this historic school and no one knows how their future will turn out - and that is where the fun begins.
The plot will be determined by the characters of the site as of now - future plots will change as these forces weigh in on the Wizarding World, and we see where these characters take us. So join in and let your character make their mark!
Minimum word count is 200.
His dreams were a starry mix of strong contrasts, high saturation opposites glowing in their own glories, eerie blondes and shiny browns singing their varied songs of malcontent and rebellion, displeasure and ecstasy. His fingers wove between these two reveries, these singularly illuminated features and their accompanying flashes of curve and skin and lips. Exemplary visions they were, one of anger and one of sin, but mashed into a disjointed semi-memory of both disbelief and revulsion, his brain’s harpsichord smashed its keys in unforgivable symphonic haste, the potential for a delicious meditation, the fantasy of any’s mans unsolicited dreams, syncopated into a hallucinogenic nightmare.
He shot upward, gasping inhalation. Strangely, it was all way worse in real life.
The heels of his hands leapt to his eye sockets, trying their best to burrow through his corneas and out the backside of his throbbing head, usually springing black hair matted awkwardly this way and that from a mixture of dried perspiration, foul play, and pillow pressure. He considered the shock similar to what it would feel like if he was unexpectedly stabbed in the chest, but by some forcefully comedic character who was the only one laughing.
It was just so much to comprehend all at once. Cece saying flatly that she fancied him? Coming down from a near-overdose level of cocaine use? Seeing Charlotte Longbottom’s vagina.
His eyes, red from rubbing and overexposure, were so forcefully the size of dinner plates that they hurt, even beyond the dull thudding of dehydration in his temples. A slim back was peering out from the red covers of his four-poster bed, not unfamiliar in nature but certainly not casually expected. Staring at it, the night zipped through his mind in sharp and shattered fragments. Licking powdered residue off the tip of Giselle Grimaldi’s nose, getting decked by Peeves into a table of wine glasses, elbowing Nate Nott as he stumbled past him in the Slytherin Common Room, shouting for want of death at the idea of Cece’s affection, shouting more, vomiting behind a tapestry in the Potions corridor, slamming into Charlotte in the dungeon hallway, an all-too-public makeout sessions to the dull sounds of wrock and roll echoing from the distant common room, accompanied by hushed (and not so hushed) laughter from passers-by, tossing her over his shoulder to the audible disapproval of the Fat Lady (like that of a mother seeing her son swear in public).
And those were just the flashes. As his eyes focused and refocused on the dip of her spine, he cringed at the thought of the rabidity in his actions, like a long worn traveler’s first sight of real food, or a detective’s euphoria of catching his caper. His pent frustrations over the mind-bending fraughtfulness with Cece escaped him into Charlotte, an experience unlike any he’d ever had, incredulously high-powered, driven, and exotic. Like he had something to prove, and was not afraid to do so. Like that was the person he was, someone who fucked women with such frank carnality, at least without any pretense or understanding of consequence.
He’d never had sex like that in his life. He’d barely had sex in his life.
A light groan escaped his lips, and he recalled a story from his aunt about a now lost trinket that could genuinely control time. He’d never wanted something more in his life.
Notes: Dark, but once she’s up and they can talk I think he’ll feel a little better haha.
Post by Charlotte Longbottom on Jun 16, 2018 15:20:26 GMT
Everything in Charlottes head was red. Similarly that was how her body felt. All of her skin burned like she had been sitting out in the sun for the last 8 hours and it wasn’t just on the outside but the inside as well. All her insides were on high alert and though she had certainly been hungover before this was nothing like that. No these was certainly something more. The physical feelings weren’t the only red she felt, but all the pasting dreams- no not dreams, they were too real. Too damning to be dreams. They were a reality she remembered in a blur.
All she wanted was to have fun and she didn’t think she was asking for too much from the world. She wanted to see her two dear friends maybe get along and get to know each other better. Yet she saw the glares and tension between the two that night. She wanted to hang out with Dom and have fun that didn’t involve them trying to single-handly save the entire worlds problems. Yet she probably caused her friend more problems than anything actually got her to enjoy herself. She wanted to have a fun date with Nate and enjoy a dance with a boy for once. Yet she made him uncomfortable and probably ruined their friendship forever. All she wanted was to be a teenager and have a fun, rather mundane night of parties, friendship and fun. Yet she was drugged with a love potion and it ruined everything.
She shouldn't have been surprised about it to be honest, as someone who played pranks regularly it was to be expected. However being on the other end of it was less than thrilling after all that happened. After all she remembered it all. She knew what she was doing the entire time, but her brain was so drugged on the feeling of love that she couldn’t do anything to stop herself. Fuck this all.
Nate Nott. Her date and good friend, of course he bared the worst of it. She doesn’t remember how she managed to get him away from all the parties, but she does remember the look on his face after she had forced herself onto his lips. Nate was by no means unattractive, nor would it had been bad if it hadn’t been then. Before that moment she had never saw Nate as anything more than a friend, but from that moment on she was trapped in the feelings of his lips on hers. Doomed to have the look in his eyes bore into the back of her mind for the rest of her life. She kissed him without his consent. Merlin! He was never going to speak to her again! The look on his face when he left was a death blow to the girls soul and she had moped around for what felt like years after that moment. Till, she ran into James.
Call it the potion in her veins, but the second she ran into James the pain that the potion was causing her stopped and it once again filled her with that feeling of endorphins flooding all her vision with red. The red of his lips against hers, the red of his skin against hers. The red of his sheets. Which as she slowly opened her eyes she came full circle to realize she was laying in those same red sheets.
Thats right. She had sex with James Potter. No, No she fucked James Potter till she was senseless and her screaming muscles were a reminder of that. She fucked james potter. Fucked. Potter.
She was fucked.
She became aware that she was not alone in the sheets when she heard a light gasp from next to her. Suddenly the remembrance of there being another person involved with this made Lottie hyper aware that she was laying in the gryffindor boys dorm completely naked with nothing covering her expect for the red sheets of the bed that wasn’t hers. Quietly she stirred lightly, finding a decent hold on the sheets to position herself into sitting up. It was not easy with her entire body feeling like she had turned to molten lava and then running a marathon. Eventural she sat up and without looking at the equally as disheveled boy next to her left out a quite and firm. “Fuck”
“You’re goddamn right, fuck!” He didn’t waste any time in responding to her, eyes agape and exasperated, because his reactions wouldn’t allow him to. If he was capable of having a panic attack, perhaps this was what it would feel like. Both of his hands fled to the field of his hair, the remains of sex sweat lodged on his skull, black matting just as frazzled as he was, a hearty metaphor. “Bloody hell,” he continued to exclaim, looking around the bed at anything other than her for some indication of why this had happened, wishing that it wasn’t because he’d been out of his mind and angry and miserable given the previous circumstances. Wishing that he hadn’t acted like a total fucking-
But he couldn’t avoid looking at her; she was sitting up, sheets bundled against her for modesty amidst their completely immodest situation, her pretty eyes and shoulders blinking at him, unassuming but full of wanton memory. He didn’t grimace, but his brows furrowed in disbelief, as if he was willing her shoulders to make the way he remembered them wrong, despite having a very sinking feeling that he was never going to be able to look at them again without the thought of pinning them hard against his bedsheets with the heels of his hands.
He was apologizing to a set of shoulders. This really was a nightmare.
Was it rude to immediately inform her that this had been a gigantic mistake? It was difficult to linger on the duality of the reality of their situation versus the intensely pleasurable things he’d experienced (she was deceptively flexible). After a few moment of silence, he forced himself to look up at her, grateful to realize that maybe he wasn’t the only one dealing with a myriad of very complex and varying emotions, the first and foremost of them still being fuck.
“What did we…did we really…ahhhh…” His exhale was somewhere on the spectrum between a groan and a painful laugh. A legitimate pain seized in his stomach as another thought came to pass. “Who saw us,” he said flatly, incapable of even pronouncing it into a question, for fear of the potential answer.
Post by Charlotte Longbottom on Jul 6, 2018 0:32:59 GMT
She heard him before she ever saw him, mostly because she was simply scared to look at him at all. Lotti had done dome stupid things but this had to top the cake. It wasn’t James though, no he wasn’t the problem. James was always fun, kind and lively and the two had been friends quite some time. Yet here she was, completely fucking him up and fucking them both up. Cause she was. A fucking love potion! Even she would never be so cruel to do that. Love was something not to be trifled with and now? Now she had to deal with the heat of a body next to her. Had to deal with her mistake.
Thats what this was after all, a mistake. They weren’t like that the two of them, never would be, and never again like this. After all she wasnt sure shed live much longer.
Linus would be.. concerned. It this situation he would probably be the most likely to understand because that was just a thing. Dom however would not. Everything from the night; dragging her out, being love potioned, kissing nate, being rejected by nate and then fucking james potter to the moon and back. Lotti knew her friend well but didn’t know how to handle this. She didn’t know what to expect of dom. This had never happened before.
Lotti seeked attention a lot and it seemed like hat had finally come to bite her in the ass. Like all the bite marks she could feel on her skin. The memories of the creation of those marks sending her face into a red flush. Had anyone seen them?
”I- I dont know” she turned and finally looked at him and she knew it all was a mistake. James ruffled hair, the way he sat with his arm tensed clear with anger, and of course the red and blue spots all over him. A mix of heated passion and the remainders of her red lipstick plastered over him. A mark of their sin.
All see could see was regret. In his face and her own.
”James I-... i’m so... bloody fucking shit cunt. “ she angrily blurted out before dropping her head towards the crumples of red sheets covering her front chest. im so sorry james. This was a mistake and Im so sorry i just- her voice broke and so did all her thoughts. Lotti was completely lost for words for probably the first time in her life.
In his haze of realization and reality-snapping, his eyes were going in and out of focus as he took in the scene around him and then called back to the scenes of last night, unable to look at the bedpost without remembering that he’d grabbed at it for leverage, the headboard without remembering that there was a time when it was slamming repeatedly into the stone wall, the fucking window sill neighboring his bedside where he’d sat her so that he could spread her legs to make room for his mouth. Mother fucking Merlin.
It was like getting caught watching pornography…in his own head.
His eyes were beginning to refocus, and as if his brain was finally prepared to see it as it couldn’t have before, he saw the speckled marks on Charlotte’s shoulders and arms, first fearful that they were bruises and then shocked, unsure how it was possible for one to deliver so many love bites in only one evening. He couldn’t stop himself before he did, even though he knew immediately that it would be a bad idea to do so, because looking down at his own arms caused him to legitimately jump in place. A gargle somewhere between a shriek and a warbled swear word emitted from him, paired wonderfully with the spewing of swear words that Charlotte herself was letting loose across from him.
But her head wilted in place, and for the first time it was like he realized that he wasn’t alone, and that there was an actual, bonafide girl sitting across from him without any clothes on, with just as little idea of what was going on, with just as much discomfort as he was experiencing. And for all of his terrible qualities, for his lack of awareness, for his indelicacy, he felt pangs of guilt, especially when she began to apologize to him, as if it was she who had done something to him, when it could not have possibly been the case. There’s no way she could have known about everything that went down with Cece.
“Charlotte, Charlotte…no, no….no…stop,” He felt one of his hands reaching out towards her, slightly terrified that she might start crying, as if his fingers could press a button to make any potential tears soak back up to their source. “Don’t apologize, don’t. It’s…fine. It’s gonna be fine.”
It was most definitely the fuck not going to be fine.
“Look,” He could feel the inbred nature of charismatic leadership starting to take over in crisis, like how he could get a Quidditch team to recover from a loss and come back swinging. This was their reality now- they were, whether they liked it or not, a team. A team that had somehow managed to stand on a four-poster and still successfully maneuver intercourse. So…they could do anything, right?
“We just have to make sure that Dominique never finds out about this…you know,” he chanced a weak chuckle. …ever.”
Quiet never settled right for Charlotte. It gave her too much space, too much time to look inside, too much time to process and overthink. Charlotte liked to think rashly, to not feel like she needs to second guess herself. That was when she ran into problems. Yet here she was. She had thought she had everything planned for once, that things would be great and go how she wanted but oh god was she wrong. For all she knew all her friends could hate her now- no. No that was a thought she could nor deal with and just the second of thought gad tears welling into her eyes threatening to spill over.
James brought her back from her own mental spiral but did nothing to stop the anxiety building up to dangerous levels inside her. She had known James for quite some time, never had his hand given her so much comfort and so much pain in her life. Half of her wanted to snatch herself away, the other half wanted to melt into his arms as they had been before and pretended they never woke up, that this hadn’t happen and it was all still a dream. That they didn’t have to face their reality. She knew better though, or at least thought she did. That was before she slept with him.
She didn’t want to look when he said so. She wanted to burry herself into blankets till her heart stopped feeling like molten steel. When she looked she didn’t know what she expected, but finally met his eyes with breath drew. He spoke and she let out all the air in her as a snorted laugh, using her other hand that still had a tight grip on the sheets to cover her face as she did. Well he had a point. “No no that is the exact last thing we need. Merlin, we would literally be flayed alive. “ that's all she could leave it at. She knew it wouldn’t just be that, but honestly the thought made her want to throw up on james sheets (well he needed to change them anyways).
She nodded, letting the hand that he touched grab his and wrap it in a right squeeze. No more. She couldn’t do this now with him, even if the need to vomit was still sitting in her throat. ”No if anyone finds out the whole school will and-“ that thought of both her parents who worked at hogwarts finding out? She’d deal with 10 Dom’s before that. ”we just need to protect each other, make sure no one saw us. You are right we will be fine, just need to get out without anyone seeing me.” As she spoke the words her face fell in relation of how actually hard this was going to be. Why did this happen to them of all people! She stopped for a second before looking around for her Quiv. Shit shit shit. She looked back at James wide eyed. "We need to figure out a way to get me out of here stat. Dom wakes up at the same time everyday." Twenty minutes and counting.
While Dominique had never blown a true gasket in his direction, she had the airs of someone who could really bring down a hard hammer on not only his life choices but also physical parts of his body. Surely, he’d annoyed her in the past, but there was something about these past few years of social organizing and soap boxing that made her (and her opinion) rather intimidating. All of that, and the fact that he truly valued her opinion of him, even though one would be hard pressed to squeeze that confession out of him, especially in a moment like this.
As the cartooned envisioning of Dom wielding a whip shot through his mind, he attempted to gather a sheet towards himself so as to move towards a more sustainable form of coverings, his clothes. Charlotte had the majority of his sheets bundled in front of her and now around her face- James’ eyebrows furrowed worryingly, the irony of his embarrassment and desire to be modest not lost on him in the wake of an evening of such…adventurous nakedness.
Although she did it delicately, he felt a part of his stomach drop uncomfortably when she squeeze his hesitantly held out hand, not dissatisfied with the partner he now had in secrecy, but completely overwhelmed by the link that was forming between them. His moment of rapt charisma had carried to her, and while she did not appear any less disheveled than she had a few moments ago, she definitely did not appear to be on the verge of sobbing, which was something he knew he’d not be able to deal with, especially with his internal monologue blaring into his subconsciousness as if through a megaphone: YOU FUCKED CHARLOTTE LONGBOTTOM!
She was already thinking about her exit strategy for the entire dormitory, and he was still trying to figure out how to exit his own four-poster. This manifesting into a strange sort of melting wiggle, where he slid toward the edge of his bed and off of it, but underneath the far end of his sheet. His feet and then thighs slid toward the ground, landing on a soft cushion of boxers- perhaps Merlin was up there somewhere.
It only took a moment to shuffle into them, and as he did he peered around the room, half of the four-posters closed, some of the open ones wrinkled and some crisp. Maybe he wasn’t the only one who’d gone through an ordeal. Oli’s hangings were shut, but there was no sense in investigating whether he was there or not. If he was, James would certainly know soon enough. “Same time every day?” he said, turning to Charlotte, eyebrows raised, voice low. “That’s like a fucking…robot.”
“I don’t think anyone here is…awake…” he said, albeit hesitantly. “You could make a run for it. We’ll have to…I don’t know…hext about this later?” How does one handle the morning of a one-night-stand? He’d never been in that exact position before, especially with his cousin’s best friend, who he had known nearly his whole life, it seemed.