Chapter 2
As though led by a hidden compass, Flora's steps meandered deeper into the halls of Hogwarts. Her mind was a whirlwind, set into chaos by the memory of the nameless Gryffindor.
She shook her head, desperate to regain focus.
Her wandering thoughts coupled with her missing books and wand were taking a toll on her acedemics. Just a few days of distracted turmoil and her grades were plummeting...
If Flora weren't careful, she'd attract the unwanted attention of her Uncle, a man she barely knew, let alone could predict his reactions…
How would her new guardian punish her for flanking? Her brow creased, but still her eyes narrowed, wandering over every face she passed.
Not even the prospect of punishment could hold her interest for long…
Brief flashes of red curls surfacing amidst a sea of black robes, a stray wisp of that intoxicating toffee scent, or the deep echo of laughter ricocheting down the stone walls.
Each corner turned held the risk of exposing him, sending her heart racing to match the vibrant energy he exuded.
Unseen and unfelt before their chance encounter, his aura pervaded every nook and cranny of the castle, ghosting over her favorite spots. The library, her usual quiet haven, now held echoes of him in her preferred corner. The serpentine path leading to the kitchens, a short stroll from the cozy Hufflepuff dormitory, seemed to bear the invisible marks of his intermittent visits.
The shadow of his presence clung to her, turning the halls of Hogwarts into an elaborate stage for an intricate game of hide-and-seek.
It was a dance, each turn a calculated step, each heartbeat a pulsing rhythm beneath the music of the school's regular humdrum. Each encounter, though deftly avoided, left behind an exhilarating, fearful thrill.
She was entangled in their game- in the peculiar sense of being preyed upon. Every time she caught him lingering hiis verdant gaze swept across the crowd, probing each face intently.
It left her feeling giddy.
Amidst his friends, he stood like a lighthouse, his radiant charisma attracting fellow students as naturally as moths to a flame. Had he been less conspicuous or less popular, she might already have been cornered. But Flora, despite her Omega status, had become deft at disappearing into the crowd, turning evasion into an artform.
His presence loomed, yet she danced just out of reach, lost amidst the hustle and bustle of Hogwarts…Huffing a laugh she fought the urge to skip.
If this was a game, Flora was certainly winning.
Rounding a corner she ran headlong into a fellow hufflepuff, the collision scattering his books. "Good merlin, my apologies!" the boy said, bending to collect his things.
"S-sorry!" Flora stammered, her gaze flickering back anxiously. She could have sworn she heard the Alpha's laughter getting closer.
The echo of their shared kiss reverberated in her mind, clashing with the soft reality of his personality.
He didn’t seem the lecherous sort and Flora hadn’t noticed him groping or kissing any other ladies- a fact that begrudgingly relieved her- but then again Flora had yet to speak to him… And did not intend to.
If only she’d spoken to him, before or after their steamy encounter- Maybe if the Gryfindor wasn’t such a mystery he wouldn’t occupy her mind at every waking hour.
He was like a bonfire in a moonless night, a crackling force of nature, impossible to overlook, but she couldn't avoid him forever.
What could Flora possibly say to such a wizard if their paths crossed again?
'Hello, you probably don’t remember me, but I’m Florence Bishop. We bumped into each other, quite literally, and ended up in a compromising position… Also, have you by any chance found my wand and books? I left them behind in my hurry to escape you…'
She shook her head, a grimace tugging at her lips. If Flora managed to speak at all- without breaking down into a flailing stutter- it would be nothing short of a miracle.
She turned a corner, trailing a small gaggle of Hufflepuffs in case that was his laugh she'd heard.
Better safe than sorry.
Flora's heart thrummed, a rapid beat in time with her swift evasion, yet a strange melancholy clung to her victory like the last fading notes of a bittersweet symphony.
The sense of an elusive, undefined something slipping through her grasp left her hollow.
Skidding to a stop, she peered down the time-worn stone corridor. A fleeting sighting of the familiar fiery mane turning the bend sent a shiver of adrenaline surging through her veins.
It's him!
Cold sweat pricked her nape. Retreating steps stumbled into a sudden flight, her figure darting off the main hall, the length of her hair and robe fluttering behind her.
She heard no footsteps to signal he'd given chase, but an eerie sensation of pursuit itched at the edge of her awareness as if she'd invoked her own spectral tail. The air around her vibrated with the unseen energy of his approach, a primal alarm resounding in her core.
Flora’s strides stretched longer, her breaths escaping in short, labored huffs against the tide of students ebbing around her.
A glance tossed over her shoulder found her dread personified.
The Gryffindor had emerged around the corner, his steps unfaltering and purposeful. His hunt seemed lazy as his gaze analyzed every face with a familiar tenacity that sent chills skittering down her spine.
A frantic giggle bubbled up her throat and Flora forced the grin off her face. Her instincts screamed at her to run, not in fear, but to entice her Alpha to give chase.
Wait, her alpha? Why would she think that?
A thrilling kiss in the hallway didn't make him hers! Stupid Omega hormones! He was a nameless gryffindor who very likely held her wand hostage!
She kept her steps quick but measured, just shy of a jog.
He tilted his head, nostrils flaring, inhaling deeply. A smile, as radiant as a sunrise, split his freckled face.
A blush bloomed hot on her cheeks, her pace faltering under the weight of his blatant delight.
Is it my scent he is smiling at?
“Ah!” She cried, slamming head first into a cold unyielding wall.
Copper flooded her mouth in an acrid tang and a sharp woosh ruffled her hair. “P-pardon-” She stumbled back, hitting the stone floor in a tangle of limbs, just as swords whistled through the space her head had previously occupied.
"Curse it! That's my sword you've snatched, you metal scoundrel!" A disembodied voice boomed from above, "I swear on my rivets you'll pay, you rusty thieving bastard!" The animated suit of armor that towered above her came alive with indignant fury.
“Excuse me, I have to go-” Flora stammered, her voice echoing weakly in the stone hall, drowned out by clanging metal and arguing.
She crawled backwards until her back met cold iron- the legs of a second armor suit.
The second suit lunged, shoving Flora forward. Swords colliding with a deafening clamor that echoed around the corridor.
Her world was reduced to the narrow circle of combat as the suits circled each other, disregarding her completely.
"Is this really necessary?" she pleaded with them, but her words felll on deaf ears — or in this case, deaf helmet visors. “Please just let me by!”
She longed for her wand as she lurched to her feet only to be forced back down under the onslaught of the dueling armor duo.
The hallway rang with the discordant symphony of metal on metal, the knights fighting with reckless abandon, over a misplaced weapon.
Bits of armor rattled and rolled around her, punctuating the relentless combat. Her pulse thrummed in her ears, harmonizing with the ringing of steel in a morbid duet.
She ducked and weaved between the furious armor suits, but her attempts at evasion were thwarted by the erratic movement of the flailing swords.
Instinct screamed at her to flee, yet she was cornered. Summoning the distress call inherent to all Omegas, she let out a keening wail, a desperate plea for help that no Alpha could resist.
“Protego!”A surge of magic materialized around her, forming a glistening barrier against the combatants. The swinging swords slammed against the shield, rebounding, their metallic bodies stumbling apart under the sudden backlash.
“Gracious!”
“Good, Merlin!” Their simultaneous exclamations echoed down the hall as they reeled back, startled. Wiping her eyes, Flora dared to peek through her sleeve to find the source of the unexpected help.
There he was, the fiery-haired Gryffindor she'd been meticulously avoiding.
“Enough!” The word cracked through the air and rolled down the stone hallway, resonating through the disoriented suits of armor. “Back to your posts at once!” He was a storm personified, wand brandished in hand, his face aflame with a righteous fury.
“But my sword!” One of the suits protested weakly.
"Curse your blasted sword!" The Gryffindor growled, his voice brokering no argument as he stomped up to the cowed armor. His wand jabbed against the suit's breastplate with a hollow tap. “Are you blind? Look at her!” He pointed to flora on the floor, “She’s petrified, some knights you are!”
Flora blushed as a pair of eyes and two enchanted helmets turned their focus on her.
"Calm down, lad, no need to raise your voice." The armor behemoths, properly chastised, stumbled to a halt, their movements jerky as their lost parts rolled back, clanking against the flagstone as they magically reassembled. With a rumbling, almost remorseful shuffle, they retreated to their usual corners.
"Our deepest apologies, milady," came their collective response, an awkward bow thrown in for good measure before the suits resumed their inanimate stances.
The invisible ripples of residual magic swirled around her, an almost tangible comfort as her rapid breaths broke the stillness. The protective dome shattered into a rainfall of luminescent particles, dissolving around her.
The Gryffindor turned to her, his stern countenance warmed into a small, reassuring smile as his long legs ate up the distance between them.
Avoiding his gaze, Flora felt a tumble of words trapped in her throat – a whirlwind of thanks, apologies, and the delicate admission that she had indeed been avoiding him. He dropped down beside her, his closeness bringing with it a wash of warmth and the tempting scent of toffee.
“Flora?” He asked, the question in his voice startled her. Her name held a strange weight when paired with his voice.
She’d never introduced herself, how could he know her name?
Flora replayed their encounter a million times in her mind and not once had she uttered it. The omission of something so basic was a misstep in the rhythm of her memories, an agonizing ‘what-if’ that kept Flora awake in the quite moments before sleep.
Her lips parted to confirm her identity but a whimper escaped. She bit her lip, wincing at the pain and pulling her arms up to hide her face. Humiliation surged in her like a tide, a wave of heat coloring her cheeks. She wanted to be anywhere else.
She remained silent, unable to summon the courage to thank him for his help. As unshed tears pricked her eyes, the intensity of the moment swelled, the looming silence threatening to consume her.
“Featherlight.” he murmured, invoking a charm that robbed her of her weight. His magic courses over her back in a warm, tingling wave.
“O-oh, my!”
"Forgive me, Miss," he said, sounding oddly formal given their previous encounter. Flora stiffened as his strong arm slipped under her legs, another bracing her back as he lifted her in a fluid motion.
His chest rumbled with a soothing pur as he secured her against him. Overwhelmed, she wrapped her arms around his neck, nestling into the crook of his shoulder, her face hidden from his sight.
Toffee, tempting and rich, enveloped her like a warm blanked, drowning out the stale odor of metal, fear, and damp stone. Flora leaned into him, desperately seeking solace in the aftermath of her encounter with the enchanted suits. Her body moved of it’s own accord, instinct propelling her to find comfort as her lips latched on that sweet spot on his neck.
His steps faltered, nearly stumbling to the floor as her tongue ran over the source of his scent.
He adjusted his hold on her, admirably steadying himself under the onslaught of her attentions. The otherwise silent hallway was filled with the sounds of their encounter: the moist echoes of her exploration, paired with the rhythm of his labored breathing, creating a symphony of desire that threatened to drown them both.
The rich flavor of toffee flooded her mouth, blending with the metallic taste of her own blood. “Mmm.” A contented purr bubbled from her throat, her lips tracing a path over his skin, intoxicated by his heady flavor.
“I-It’s alright, we’re…we’re almost there…” He said, voice strained as she shamelessly laved at him.
The giddy realization that he would now carry her scent left her head swimming and her Omega instincts clawing to the fore..
Everyone will know he's mine…
Withdrawing from his neck with a satisfied sigh, she traced a thumb over the reddened skin that would surely develop into a bruise.
A soft chirp of pleasure escaped her lips before she dove back in, eager for another taste of him.
A groan vibrated from deep within his chest, his hand clenching around her. “You're making it... difficult to think, sweet girl,” he rasped out, his words thick with an emotion she couldn’t place.
Sweet girl. The endearment sparked warmth inside her that radiated outward, leaving a soft and fuzzy feeling fluttering her insides.
His pace picked up, carrying her along in a rush that transformed their surroundings into a dizzying blur of stone walls and flickering torchlight. He navigated the corridors with a surprising ease, each stride as effortless as if he was carrying a feather, no doubt due to the lingering effect of a featherlight spell.
A moment of clumsy juggling followed as he tried to draw his wand while balancing her. With a swift utterance of 'alohomora', the door ahead creaked open. The inviting glow of firelight streamed out, painting long, lively shadows that danced across the cold stone corridor.
She scarcely noticed the shift in her surroundings as he strode into the room, the door shutting behind them with a definitive thud. It wasn't until the unmistakable aroma of brewing potions hit her nose that she realized where they had ended up - the Potions Lab.
"Professor Sharp is away today, we'll have the place to ourselves." The Gryffindor's voice held nothing but innocent reassurance as he walked over to a table, but heat crept up her cheeks nonetheless.
Gently, he placed her on the table, steadying flora with a hand on her hip. "Let's look you over, shall we?"
He guided her chin upward, seeking a better view of her face. Flora's first instinct was to retreat, but his soft chuckle and the gentle persistence of his fingers persuaded her to hold still.
As their eyes connected, a thrill buzzed through Flora's chest, mimicking the breathtaking moment of their first encounter. A powerful but unseen force seemed to draw them together, her perch on the table bringing them to an equal height. All she needed to do was lean in.
And lean in, she did. As their lips met, her heartbeat quickened, pounding a wild rhythm against her ribcage.
A rumble of approval, a sound as raw and primal as the man himself, echoed from his throat, vibrating against her lips. His solid form melded against her, his strength an intoxicating contrast to her softness.
Stirred by their intimate contact, Flora naturally made room for him, her skirt hiked up to allow his hips to settle between her thighs.
Their bodies met and meshed in perfect harmony, the small of her back cradled in his large hand while the other traced a tender path around her neck - a tantalizing claim that sent her heart fluttering erratically.
There was not a whisper to be had between them as her brests crushed against his chest, legs parted wide to accommodate him. “Missed you, missed you so…so much.” he muttered into her mouth as her lips parted for him, tongues delving and curling around each other in a heated dance. “My sweet Omega…All mine…D-don’t hide from…from me anymore....”
"Sorry... I'm so sorry..." Her words were a breathless plea, cut short as he slanted his head and deepened their kiss, his tongue dueling with hers in a passionate tango.
His hips thrust into hers, stealing her breath away and leaving her speechless as he hungrily claimed her mouth. Her fingers found solace in the wild red strands of his hair, anchoring him to her and coaxing him to taste more, to lose himself in her.
And lose himself he did, his mouth exploring hers until the taste of copper tainted their shared breath.
Pulling back with a jerk, he licked his lips, concern overtaking the confusion in his emerald eyes. “Wait, you're…you're bleeding.” he said.
His thumb gently prodded her swollen lip and she gasped, eyes widening at the sudden shift in his focus."Stay here," he instructed, stepping back from her.
His hands were raised in a pacifying gesture - fingers spread out as if trying to soothe a startled animal. His every move was slow and measured, as if she might flee at any too sudden movement.
Unsteady with lingering adrenaline, she hurriedly pulled her skirt back into place. She hadn't intended another intimate encounter, but the drive to touch him was overwhelming to say the least.
What was wrong with her that she couldn't think clearly around him?
She could've put the blame on amortentia, the infamous love potion, if her senses hadn't promptly returned the moment the enigmatic Gryffindor took his leave...
Her arms snaked protectively around her chest, knees buckling together. The heat of embarrassment crept into her cheeks, prickling her skin with a blush that spread like a rampant spell, reminding her of the boldness of their recent encounter…Again.
Her Alph- the Alpha, not hers, she reminded herself - unlocked Sharp's private ingredient stores with a mumbled ‘alohomora’. She watched with wide eyes as he waltzed into the storage room as if he’d done so a thousand times.
Surly Professor Sharp wouldn’t give such special privileges to a student?
When he returned, it was with a triumphant grin plastered across his face and a glowing green vial of Wiggenweld potion held aloft like he'd just won the House Cup.
With puppy-like enthusiasm, he trotted back towards Flora, his trophy clutched in hand. She rewarded him with a soft smile, a twinge of pain pulling at her bruised lip as their eyes connected. His bright gaze widened as if taken by surprise and he stumbled in his eager approach.
"You didn’t see that." He said, straightening, a blush as fiery as his hair spreading across his freckled features. He cleared his throat and tidied his robe with flustered strokes, reclaiming his composure. Flora hid a delighted giggle behind her hand and he shot her a boyish grin that made his eyes sparkle.
Stopping a respectful distance from her, he uncorked the potion and presented the Wiggenweld with a showman's flourish that set off another bout of giggles.
Their fingers brushed as she accepted the vial.
A full Wiggenweld for a mere busted lip was certainly overkill, but Flora kept her thoughts to herself, eager to please him as she was.
Her face scrunched as she sipped the bitter brew.
The Gryfindor snickered over her, biting his lip and averting his gaze when she turned a glare at him. She huffed and tipped her head back, draining the remaining potion in one go like a shot of Firewhiskey.
His smile grew, he took the empty vial from her and slid it into his pocket. "There you go," he said, "Good as new, right, Flora?"
"Th-thank you," she stammered, averting her eyes under the weight of his gaze. She would have congratulated herself for managing to speak if it weren't for the relentless emerald gaze pinning her in place.
"No need to thank me fo- by Merlin." He moved closer, his arms bracketing her on the table, hemming her in. "Your scent, it's so much stronger up close…warm vanilla, so sweet…so enticing." He leaned in, burying his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling deeply, savoring her scent. "Perfect."
Perfection was a notion far removed from her reality, yet as he took his place before her, rationality became a fleeting thought.
A sigh of pleasure fluttered past her lips as he hiked her skirt back up to her hips, his lips fervently working on her neck. Heat swelled within her, a pool of desire gathering in her core, as she clung to him, her nails pricking through the fabric of his robe as she urged him closer.
"Please, Alpha...I need..." She gasped, a tiny sound escaping her as his teeth grazed her skin. Her legs entwined themselves around his hips, modesty lost in the torrent of her need. "I need..."
Even as the plea left her lips, she was uncertain of what she sought, but that did not stop her voice from trembling with the urge to beg.
She yanked at his clothes, there was far too much fabric between them. Pulling from her neck he huffed, lips meeting hers in a frantic kiss. He squeezed her waist as his other hand drifted over her curves, resting possessively at her breast.
Their kiss broke, her lungs screaming for air in the wake of their fervor.
Catching her breath, she pressed tender kisses across his cheek and along his jawline, trailing down to an intoxicating spot on his neck – one that tasted delectably of toffee and was fast becoming her weakness. She licked and nuzzled the spot, marking the spot with her scent before mirroring her attentions on the opposite side of his neck. She relished the feel of his flesh under her lips, the addictive flavor of him spurring her.
With a spike in his scent, she moaned into his skin, intoxicated by the raw need seasoning his flavor. As if resuming an interrupted melody, he moved against her, the rhythm as familiar and comforting as it was pleasurable. The rigid line of him pressed provocatively against her, inciting a delicious friction that ignited her core. Parchment ripped under her palm as she braced on the table, lifting her hips to meet his thrusts. Her back resting against the cold stove pipe was a stark contrast to the heat engulfing her.
A ladle clattered on the flagstones as his insistent movements continued, the sharp sound going unnoticed amidst their growing symphony of desire.
His hand trailed southward, leaving a warm path in its wake, exploring her body in intimate detail over her clothes until he settled on her thigh, lingering just above her knee.
Releasing his waist, she slung an arm around his broad shoulder, her fingers tangling in the wild mane of his hair. A firm squeeze on her thigh was all the prompt she needed, her legs parting eagerly in response to his unspoken request. As his hand snaked its way under her bunched skirt and chemise, the pad of his fingers brushed over the silk of her bloomers. A whimper slipped past her lips, muffled against the warmth of his neck as he traced bewitching circles on her inner thigh, a delicious promise of what was yet to come.
“Please…Alpha, don’t t-tease me.” She cried, hot breath fanning his neck.
"I would never tease you, Flora," he murmured, the soft puff of his breath tickling her scalp as his hand cupped the moist heat of her, separated only by the thin, damp fabric of her bloomers. "Does this feel... good?" he ventured, tracing her most intimate place with his bold fingers.
His question was met with an answering gasp, her body arching against his touch. Her hand gripped him tighter, nails digging into his robe, as his fingers expertly caressed her, bringing her pleasure to new heights.
Her cries, coated in a layer of ecstasy, echoed off the domed ceiling as her fingers clawed into his shoulder, the sensations he provoked coursing through her in waves. "Alpha!" she cried out.
"Shhh," he murmured into her ear, the whispered syllable a soothing balm. As she pressed her mouth to the crook of his neck, she whimpered, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "You liked that, didn't you, Flora?" he breathed, his words more of a knowing statement than a question.
She could feel the curve of his smile against her skin, the confidence in his movements gaining momentum as he focused on her sensitive bundle of nerves.
With each calculated touch, her body trembled and writhed against him, craving more of his skilled caresses.
Her fingertips bore into his shoulder as a fierce heat swelled within her, a mounting wave threatening to crash down.
He whispered inane encouragements and sweet nothings into her hair, bolstering her towards a precipice she was all too eager to tumble over.
His grip tightened on her hip, a testament to his control and a delicious hint of the hidden strength beneath his gentle demeanor.
"Come for me, Flora." His whispered.
Her soft whimpers swelled into high-pitched cries as her hips moved rhythmically with his skillful hand. A yearning cry filled the air, pulled forth from the depths of her being.
Instincts, primal and raw, surged to the forefront of her senses, the lure of her Alpha weaving a magnetic pull around her consciousness. There was an imperative in her mind, a resounding call to surrender herself to him, to draw even closer to the warmth and safety he offered.
"Come for me," he urged, his tone bearing the unmistakable iron command that only an Alpha could muster. His directive penetrated her core, leaving her powerless to refuse him.
His touch was insistent, driving her forward with a fervor that was impossible to resist. The heat of his breath contrasted the firm grasp that held her still. It was an avalanche of sensations, all-consuming and dizzying, yet she found herself yearning for more, even as it threatened to carry her away.
She sunk her teeth into his neck, a desperate bid to stifle her cries as she crested the wave of ecstasy. The tang of copper blended with the sweetness of toffee, an intoxicating cocktail that was as addictive as the man himself.
His growl resonated in her bones, a primal echo to the pulsing heat that flooded her senses. The world tipped as he shifted, his powerful grip on her hip serving as the only anchor in the torrent of pleasure.
Vials and cauldrons rattled on the table in time with his movements, their dance gaining a momentum that echoed the wild rhythm of her heart.
The potions station beneath them offered a feeble protest, its legs screeching against the polished hardwood under the weight of their tangled bodies.
“F-Flora!” His movements faltered, a series of rough, convulsive jerks, and then he collapsed over her with a raw, unrestrained cry.
She purred, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him down in blissful contentment.
His weight was a comfort she hadn't known she'd craved, a counterpoint to the stray vials digging into her back but she refused to shift. As he drew away, panting, she took him in - a disheveled constellation of flushed cheeks, sweat-dampened red curls, and brilliant green eyes that drank her in with a glint of untamed wonder.
He was glorious.
Tentatively, her fingers brushed the damp curls from his forehead, skimming down to cradle his heated face. His gaze met hers, a connection forged in the furnace of their shared intimacy.
His lips curved, a sheepish grin that lit his eyes and pulled an answering smile from her. His breath hitched, a laugh billowing over her, rich with relief and joy.
“What…What’s your name?” The question slipped from her lips, whispered into the silence that hung between them. As her fingers traced the contours of his face, she was eager for the answer to the question that had plagued her for days, ready to finally put a name to the man who'd captivated her so completely.
His eyes widened, eyebrows arching in a near-comical display of astonishment. The soft curve of his smile shifted to stunned disbelief before settling into a guilty grimace.
"Merlin's beard!" he exclaimed. "I can't believe I- wait, someone's coming!" In a flurry of movement, he disentangled himself from her, jerked her off the table and quickly straighten their disheveled clothing with a charm.
Her eyes darted to his trousers, a damp stain betraying their earlier intimacy, before he whipped out his wand to cast a swift 'Scourgify'. The potent aroma of their intertwined desire was whisked away by the cleansing charm, but the sound of heavy footfalls outside the door set her heart pounding.
The door handle rattled ominously, echoing her sudden trepidation.
"What in the...?" The gruff voice of Professor Sharp, muffled yet unmistakable, reverberated through the air.
Flora's body went rigid, a pang of dread echoing in her widened eyes as she sought solace in the comforting embrace of her Alpha. His growl, though muffled through the door, echoed like a low roll of thunder in the enclosed space.
"Damn, he was meant to be out today." The gryfindor mumbled, looking mildly inconvenienced.
"Your neck! Oh!" Flora exclaimed, gasping.
There, adorning his collar was a vibrant splash of fresh crimson- a startling reminder of her teeth on his skin. A perfect half moon marred his neck, seeping blood. Flora hadn’t realized how hard she’d bitten him and the wound looked raw and painful.
Guilt welled heavy within her but she held her tongue as he shepherded her behind the safety of a nearby potions station.
His hand smacked over his neck, eyes widening as his hand pulled back coated in crimson. Flora didn't know what reaction she expected from him, but it certainly wasn't a giddy smile accompanied by a heated blush…
"I had you pegged as a good girl since I’ve never seen you in detention- a pity, as we would have met much sooner…I never thought you'd be so bold as to do this.” he said, his voice barely a whisper that tickled the shell of her ear. With a swift wave of his wand and a murmured incantation, her outline blurred, nearly dissolving into the shadows around her. "Stay low and silent. I'll distract Sharp..."
"But - but what about you?" Worry congealed in the pit of her stomach, her words tumbling out as her gaze darted between him and the looming door. He responded with a disarmingly easy grin, his freckled face radiant against the dim backdrop of the potions station. "You'll get into trouble. I don't want-" Her voice faded, interrupted by his fingers lightly tracing over her lips.
"Sweet girl," he coaxed, the warmth of his gaze making it difficult to sustain her protests. "Allow me to be the chivalrous Gryffindor, won’t you?" The charm in his smile was potent, coaxing a reluctant agreement from her as she grappled with the disturbingly persuasive sway he held over her. “Unless you have a vested interest in potions or detention, how else am I to woo you?”
“I can’t do that, it’s not fair to you, I’d-” She said, startling at the muffled curses beyond the door, glancing at her Gryfindor who looked entirely too at ease with the situation. “Wait, woo me?”
"Yes, woo you, but that’s another matter entirely. This situation is not nearly as dire as you seem to think. I can handle Sharp's ire. Besides, It’s my fault we are in here and-" his voice lowered, tinged with a sincerity that sent tremors of reassurance coursing through her. "my instincts won't allow..." He trailed off but Flora knew what he meant.
“I know, you don’t really have a choice in the matter…” she said, her lips curling into a frown.
Flora often found herself in a tangle of confusion, unsure if the actions of those around her stemmed from genuine concern or instinctual drive.
"Flora, I choose to protect you. Professor Sharp’s nagging and a couple hours of detention wouldn't harm you, it certainly would never force my instincts to..." His expression sobered, the playful spark in his eyes extinguishing. "Time is not on our side." he continued, taking a reluctant step back from her. "I invited you here for a conversation, not to…You must think I’m a horrible cad…”
With a muttered incantation and a flick of his wand his collar and neck were clean of blood, but the bloody wound remained.
Her concern was swallowed by the abrupt slam of the door, Sharp sweeping into the room like a storm personified.
Her Gryffindor's hand found her head, almost missing in her near-invisibility, but the connection sent a calming wave through her. She hunkered down further, her hand muffling any involuntary sounds. An instinctual urge to retreat surged within her, but she stilled herself, not wanting to sever the unseen tether to her Alpha.
"I would be more shocked not to find you here," Professor Sharp quipped, a suspicious sniff lingering in the air. "Are you alone?"
"Absolutely, sir!" His reply was drenched in the audacious charm that only a Gryffindor or Slytherin could muster. He sauntered across the room towards a gently simmering cauldron, which Flora realized with a flush, she had failed to notice earlier. "Might you fancy a taste of my latest concoction? It's infused with a dash of vanilla - truly delightful, if I may say so myself. Slightly overdone, but barely noticeable, I assure you."
As Sharp's heavy steps echoed across the room, floorboards complaining under his weight, he followed her Alpha's lead, peering into the steaming contents of the cauldron.
"No, I most certainly do not wish to sample... whatever this is." Professor Sharp’s lip curled, gaze swept over the concoction with barely concealed disdain. "What in Merlin’s beard have you-"
"Oh, I merely helped myself to some odds and ends from your stock room," the Gryffindor chimed in, a nonchalant lilt to his voice while his body language radiated pure confidence. As Sharp spluttered incoherently over the cauldron, the redhead shot a covert wink Flora's way. She felt a flutter in her chest, understanding dawning on her - he was purposefully riling the professor to provide her a diversion. A subtle jerk of his head towards the exit relayed his message – it was time for her to leave.
Her figure wavered under the disillusionment charm as she moved, she cast one final glance at her unnamed Gryffindor. His focus was now entirely on the irate Sharp, who was turning an impressive shade of beetroot.
With a quiet sigh, she turned on her heels, leaving the hum of the potion lab and the allure of the mysterious Gryffindor behind her.