Hope stands in the Divination section of the library a couple of moments later, tapping her foot against the floor.

It's about a minute before the time the pureblood and Josie had agreed to meet here, and Hope can't find her in the library at all. The pureblood is pretty sure that she's the only person in here other than Madame Pince, who she had snuck past on her way in. She's not completely sure that the library is even open since most of the lights are turned off.

The minute passes and there's still no sign of Josie. An anxious knot double-ties itself into Hope's stomach, and she wonders if she's about to be stood up for a second time.

It's fine. She'll wait five minutes, that's all. She'll wait, and if there's still no sign of Josie, she'll leave. It's fine.

Just as she sits down on the floor in resignation, she catches a glimpse of a familiar head of brown hair and pouty lips through the dim lighting of the aisle she's in. She brightens immediately.

"I was afraid you wouldn't come." Hope startles up, standing without realizing it. In fact, she doesn't even notice that she did so until Josie puts a hand on her chest to stop her from coming forward. Hope then takes a step back, dread forming a vice-like grip around her heart. She holds up the chocolate croissant between them.

Josie glances at the plate but doesn't take it. She only crosses her arms and stares down to the floor.

"Yeah, well..." A corner of her lip snaps down, so swiftly that Hope almost misses it. Bile rises in the pureblood's throat at her dismissive tone. "...The mud mark is important, and we still need to figure out what this prophecy is all about."

Before, the sight of Josie had made her so incredibly giddy and about ready to burst, but now her next words only destroy Hope's mood so quickly that she feels sick to her stomach. Is that all the muggleborn cares about? Solving puzzles and mysteries like their ministry investigators?

The blatant rejection settles into her skin like a burn. She turns away, feeling slightly—incredibly—hurt.

"A-Alright," Hope breathes, the exhale on her tongue too shaky. Her hand clenches around the plate in her hand, and yes, her fingers are too shaky as well. "I brought you a—nevermind."

She turns around and places the plate on an empty shelf nearby, wringing her hands nervously while her back is to Josie. When she summons the will to face her again, Josie isn't even looking at her, instead of skimming the spines of a couple of Divination books.

It makes the pureblood very angry, indeed.

"No. You know what?" Hope storms up to her, teeth bared. Josie simply pushes a book back into its correct spot, appearing completely unfazed at the sudden change. It only infuriates the girl more. "Screw Snape's little research project. Screw the prophecy. You're more important. You need to know that."

It gives the brunette pause enough that she looks Hope in the eye. Almost blankly. The pureblood nearly sighs. "I would love to be your date to the ball, but that can't happen, okay? I'm not going, and it's better that way. My family can't find out about us, they can't. They would hurt you, and then we can never be together. Do you understand now?"

Josie nods impassively. Hope can barely interpret the expression on her face. "Okay."

"Did you bring the paper you found in Snape's desk?" she then asks, completely ignoring everything Hope just said.

The pureblood's jaw visibly ticks. A scoff falls short of the tip of her tongue. "You're unbelievable."

She stuffs her hand down the pocket in her quidditch robe, where the note she had been carrying all of the practice resides. She pulls it out and throws it on the floor. "Here's your fucking prophecy. Enjoy figuring out what it means by yourself."

The aisle is narrow enough that she has to move Josie somehow to pass her, which Hope ends up doing by bumping their shoulders roughly. The taller girl pulls her back before she can fully escape, and Hope snaps.

She grabs the hand around her wrist and pins it above Josie's head, her fingers wrapping around the brunette's other arm tightly enough to get her point across.

She had been on edge since the morning since Josie had made the choice to ignore her the entire day without hearing her own side of the story.

"Don't—" Hope cuts herself off when she notices that Josie is shaking, her chin down to her chest. The pureblood's eyebrows knit together, and her grip becomes soft and gentle. "Oh. I-I'm sorry. Did I hurt you?"

Josie looks up, and Hope lets out a deep sigh that silently fills the space between them. Of course. The muggleborn had been shaking in laughter.

"You're insane," Hope tells her, scowling. How is Josie finding all of this funny?

"Sorry," Josie giggles, leaning into Hope despite the fact that her arms are pinned. The sound of her laughter is contagious enough that Hope almost cracks a smile. "It's just, you sound so silly. Even if you don't take me to the ball, your dad will still see me."

Hope bristles. It's not that simple. How can she not see that? "Well, I can hide you better this way."

Josie actually rolls her eyes, and Hope releases her, stepping back. However, Josie seems unwilling to allow for any distance at all, and she steps forward.

"Don't be like that," the pureblood says. "If anything, he'll seek you out. Your father tried to kill mine if you can remember."

The muggleborn shrugs. "That was a long time ago. It was a misunderstanding. He thought he was a vampire."

"The second time, too?" Hope retorts, a bit amused. Her resolve to remain upset has almost completely fallen apart at this point. She can only be glad that the other girl appears to have forgiven her.

Josie pinks. "So, what do you propose? Lizzie has already picked out a dress from Witch Weekly. My family is coming. I have to go, so I need to bring a date."

At the mention of Josie's family, Hope's heart stutters in her chest. She pretends not to notice the faster pace, coming up with any easy solution to the pair's problem. "I will choose your date myself."

"You're not serious," Josie clips out, shooting her a dry look. Her lips form into a straight line, her eyes narrow. Hope only stares back at her indifferently.

"I am," she states, with a bit of detached arrogance. Inside, she's roaring with laughter. "You will have my final decision by the morning."

Josie pulls out a book and hits her on the shoulder with it. "Oh, really?"

She punctuates every word with another hit, but Hope doesn't even crack a smile.

"Have no doubt," Hope tells her earnestly, with that same note of superiority. "I will compile only the best of suitors for you."

Josie tries to go for the last hit, but Hope grabs the book out of her hand and tugs her forward playfully. The muggleborn smiles something teasing as she falls into Hope's arms. "Who, then, do you think is best suited for me?"

The pureblood's smile sobers somewhat, her gaze turning sincere. Her next words come out a breath below a whisper. "Only I am suited for you, Josette."

Josie's giggles fall away, and it's almost impossible for Hope to miss the way her lips part, to miss the way the girl's breath hitches.

The pureblood takes it as an invitation, inclining her head just enough to touch Josie's lips with her own softly. Stars break out in the blacks of her closed eyelids, and she nearly smiles against Josie's mouth.

The static from their lips brushing is something Hope still isn't used to despite all the kisses they've shared, and her heart pounds viciously like this is the first time she's ever experienced it.

Hope reaches behind the girl's shoulder to grab the edge of a shelf, tilting her head to connect their mouths more intently.

Josie makes a soft noise against her lips, her hand burying itself into Hope's quidditch robes and clutching onto them like her life depends on it. The touch warms the pureblood's stomach, and she moves her lips insistently against Josie's further, dragging her teeth along the brunette's bottom lip and pulling lightly.

The hold on her robes tightens, tugging Hope even closer, and she doesn't hesitate before letting her own freehand wander. When their lips disconnect for the need of oxygen, Hope skims her mouth against the muggleborn's jaw, and then to the junction below.

She leaves soft kisses along her throat, her lungs screaming for air, screaming for Josie.

When they finally both catch their breath, she returns her previous attention to Josie's mouth, swiping a tongue against her lip and then aggressively against Josie's own.

When the other girl moans against her, she catches the sound, swallows it, devours it, returns it. Her mouth yields once again to the attractive valley of Josie's neck, careful not to leave marks but still pressing against the skin in a way that satisfies the both of them.

The wood of the shelf stays strong in Hope's unforgiving grasp, and her other hand moves direction, too, coming higher until she cups the swell of Josie's breast, earning a loud gasp directly into her ear and a clutching hand within her hair.

She smirks, but it falls off her face at the words Josie whispers next.

"Then take me."

Hope's mind blanks, and she pulls back a little at the seductive tone. Her mouth opens and closes about four times.

Arousal sends a clenching path straight to her centre. She groans out a low, weak sound. "Right now?"

It's not like she hasn't thought about it—Merlin, it's all her dreams consist of nowadays—but she didn't know they were at that point yet.

Well, she's always wanted to have sex in a library...

Josie freezes, and it's dark enough now that Hope can't be completely sure if she's blushing or not. Sometime during their make-out-slash-groping session, someone had turned off the remaining lights in the library.

Hope hadn't noticed until now, of course—it's not like she had been kissing Josie with her eyes open.

The muggleborn slowly unfurls Hope's fingers from her chest, intertwining their hands sweetly.

"I meant to the ball," she murmurs quietly. Hope chokes. Her face loses all colour. To make things worse, Jose then sniffs, wrinkling her nose. "Besides, you're stinky."

Stinky?

No, she's not. She hadn't even broken a sweat during quidditch practice. She is not...stinky. She. Isn't.

"Stinky?" Hope frowns a bit petulantly. She's pretty sure the muggleborn is joking. Hope's expression grows lewd. "Fine. Join me for a shower, then? Round two in the Prefects bathroom?"

She raises her eyebrows suggestively, and Josie rolls her eyes, shaking her head with silent giggles. She disconnects their fingers pointedly. "You're too much sometimes."

"Oh, I am?" Hope asks, smirking slightly. She raises her voice to the pitch of Josie's, breathy and sensual. She mocks out, "Please, Hope, take me, I can't resist you—"

Josie's bark of laughter interrupts her from continuing, and Hope dissolves into her own bout of chuckles. When she calms down a few moments later, she finds that the brunette is staring at her very peculiarly.

"How do you do this?" she asks Hope. The pureblood cocks her head to the side.

"Do what?" Her tongue suddenly feels too big in her mouth. She wonders if she's done something wrong again.

Josie's brows draw together thoughtfully. Her gaze unnerves the pureblood. "Make me so mad, and then—this."

She laughs something wet, a smile glistens across her lips. "It's like you leave me no choice but to forgive you. Every time."

Hope's chest suddenly grows impossibly tight. She even almost brings a hand up to check if her heart is still beating, before she drops the limb back to her side. Yes, of course, it's beating. She can hear it thudding thickly in her ears.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, a bit miserably. She's messed up so many times, yet Josie keeps coming back to her, and for what? For Hope to mess up again?

Josie's hand finds her again, and she squeezes Hope's knuckles reassuringly.

The pureblood's lips rub together in another apology, but the words get stuck in her throat. She manages. "It has never been my intention to hurt you."

"And I know we've skipped some steps," she continues, biting her bottom lip hesitantly. She wonders if now would be a good time to...

Hope sets her jaw. She makes a decision rather quickly. "But I want to do this right. Like a..."

She searches for the right words. She does not find them. "...Like a proper courtship."

The pureblood immediately regrets it, because Josie starts giggling again. Curse her emotional, old-fashioned, Uncle-Elijah talk.

"Stop," Hope whines, blushing a little around her cheeks. Thank Merlin it's too dark for Josie to see it.

Still, Josie does not stop laughing. Her breath comes in small pants of air, puffing against Hope's lips, and the pureblood inhales it all greedily. She has the quick thought to shut Josie up by kissing her—because it was something that had consumed her thoughts the entire time the muggleborn had been ignoring her today—and leans in to do just when a stern voice sounds from right next to them.

"What are you two doing?!"

Hope jumps back immediately, Josie collapsing against the shelf behind her without the pureblood to balance her, and they both whip their heads to the woman tapping her foot impatiently nearby.

"Madame Pince!" Josie fixes her shirt, which is inconveniently ruffled. Hope's eyes linger low before she remembers herself. "I was just checking out the books."

"I as well." Hope runs a hand through her hair, looking at Josie with surprise, as if she hadn't noticed her before. "Fancy seeing you here, Saltzman."

"All the same," Josie says, glancing at Pince. "It was so dark I didn't notice another person here. I'm so sorry for bumping into you."

Right. That's what happened. They bumped into each other. Nothing else. Josie curtsies dramatically, a playful look in her eye that glints in the dim lighting. Pince watches with narrowed eyes.

"The apology is all mine," Hope murmurs, her mouth dry like cotton balls. "Rest assured, I shall be on my way. Goodnight."

"Goodnight," Josie tells her, and their eyes meet for too long underneath Pince's suspicious gaze. Hope actually doesn't care. She doesn't care that she caught them. She doesn't care that they hadn't been mean to each other in the woman's presence either.

The pureblood nods politely at Pince as she passes her. She smiles as she hears Josie start to babble when the librarian tiredly informs her that it's past curfew.

"Right, sorry! Bye, Madame Pince! I guess I should be going, too. Oh—I almost forgot my croissant..."

Hope leaves, absentmindedly thinking that they hadn't even researched anything about the prophecy or Tom Bradley's disappearance.

—

The pureblood sits in Arithmancy the next day, indiscreetly sending glances to her partner as Professor Vector works through some equations.

Hope has had about enough of the equations, if she's being honest. She just wants to stare at Josie all period, and all the work is getting in the way of that.

"Stop staring," Josie sing-songs through clenched teeth, writing a number and its notation down with her quill. Vector shushes them from the front of the room.

Hope sighs, murmuring a copycat spell as she writes a sentence down in the corner of her parchment paper. With a tap of her wand, it reappears on Josie's own.

I can't help myself.

The muggleborn snaps her head over, hurriedly smudging her hand over the words, but her shoulders deflate as she can't seem to erase them. She quickly realizes that only the caster of the spell can, and she glares at the shorter girl.

Hope raises her eyebrows pointedly and Josie gets the clue, writing down a response that materializes on Hope's paper.

You're messing up my notes.

A pause.

:(

Hope rolls her eyes. She can practically see the pout in that sentence. She tilts her head, trying to figure out what to write next.

How's your day?

Josie ignores her.

Are you angry with me?

No response.

Nerd.

Nothing.

It won't do well to ignore me, darling.

Hope looks over to where Vector is still lecturing before making a decision. She begins to draw a humongous, detailed dick in the corner of her paper. It mirrors right onto Josie's.

It takes a second for the muggleborn to notice it, but when she does, she gasps audibly. She makes a weird noise as some students begin to stare at her, clamping a hand over the offending doodle with wide eyes.

Vector even cocks her head at the girl in confusion, but she shortly resumes the equation the class is working on, and Hope looks back to her own paper to see several question marks in Josie's handwriting.

A second later:

Make that disappear right now!

Ooh, an exclamation mark. I'm so scared.

Once again, Josie doesn't write back, resolutely setting her shoulders straight. Hope frowns.

Please. I'm bored.

Finally, that gets a response.

We're in the middle of class, can't this wait?

You're so cute when you're studious.

Not a single emotion flickers on Josie's face. Hope deliberates over her next response for not a moment too long.

Do you have a dirty school girl kink, by any chance?

The words had not been very easy or tasteful to write down, but Josie's reaction makes it all the while. She blushes deep red and crosses Hope's words out until half of her parchment is a black blob of ink.

She then fixes her gaze on Professor Vector, most definitely doing her best to pretend Hope doesn't exist. The pureblood snickers silently, reaching for her quill again.

What did I say about ignoring me?

Josie glances down, and Hope watches as she reads the words, she watches as they register. Then, the girl's throat bobs delicately, and the pureblood tracks the motion with hungry eyes. She hangs onto it like a leech in blood.

Fine. What do you want?

Hope smirks.

You.

Josie glares.

No.

Whatever.

Hope's eyebrows knit together, and she wavers with the quill in her hand. She wants to ask Josie if she would like to meet in the library again tonight, but she doesn't want Pince to interrupt them again, and she doesn't really want to research the prophecy. She just wants to spend time with the other girl. On a date. Like they're normal. Like they're not two teenagers sneaking around from the world.

In her best handwriting, she writes:

Would you like to hang out Friday night?

Is that straightforward enough? What if Josie gets the wrong idea and thinks that she wants to spend Friday night reading in the library? She bites the inside of her cheek, adding:

To be clear, I'm asking you on a date.

Hope stares at the other girl intently as she bites on the end of her quill, peering at the pureblood's words with an unreadable expression. Hope almost takes the request back.

Sure.

Then—

Where?

Hope tries her hardest not to smile. Her mind buzzes as she tries to form her thoughts around date plans. She hadn't thought she'd get this far.

Meet me at the entrance below the great hall before dinner. I'll be standing in front of a large painting of a bowl of fruit. You can't miss it.

Josie squints her eyes as if committing the location to memory, scribbling:

Okay.

The muggleborn then resumes her previous attention to Vector. Hope grins, glancing at the girl once more before turning her own attention to the Arithmancy professor.

With a satisfied swish of her wand, any trace of the pair's nonverbal conversation vanishes from their respective papers.

—

Thursday afternoon, Hope sits in the common room with her friends, a letter from her parents in her hand. She had been carrying it on her since breakfast, but her and Rose had decided that they would open their letters after classes, since the other girl had also received one back.

Still, they've been in the common room for about an hour, and neither of them have read their letters yet. Both are scared of the potential responses, and while Rose might have some idea of where Hope's fear lies, the pureblood has no idea what Rose is so afraid of herself.

She doesn't even know the original contents of Rose's own letter. The girl still hasn't told Hope what has her biting her nails and adjusting her tie every minute.

"Okay, so she hasn't said yes to anyone," Maya says by the fireplace, talking to Penelope. They both look like they're conspiring over some deeply-analyzed hypothesis. Rose and Hope look at each other exasperatedly. "But she also hasn't said no."

"You don't have a chance," Penelope tells Maya. "It's only a matter of time before Saltzman agrees to go with me. She was practically swooning from my natural charm in Transfiguration."

Hope rolls her eyes. So, that was what Penelope had been doing in McGonagall's class? She had been wondering why the girl kept coming over and trying to make conversation with Hope. She offhandedly remembers that Penelope hadn't even talked to Josie once. What a fucking liar.

"You didn't see her in Defense," Maya remarks, flipping her hair. "She was staring at me the whole time."

Hope seethes. That's not what had happened. Right? No. She's sure. Josie hadn't looked at Maya once.

That makes two liars.

"I don't understand," Rose whispers to her as the two girls continue arguing over who Josie likes more. "Why are they fighting over Saltzman? I know she's the only muggleborn in Slytherin, but one would think that they'd care more about blood status than house rivalry. Wouldn't bringing a halfblood to the ball suit their interests better than bringing a muggleborn?"

"Rose." Hope tilts her head, sucking in a breath as she looks over at the pair in question. "It's all the same to them. They believe that both are...undeserving of their magic—"

"—But they ostracized Sebastian over the same thing! Haven't you noticed? He doesn't show up to meals anymore, barely to any of his classes, might I mention," Rose interjects, heatedly. Penelope and Maya glance over, but they don't appear to have heard anything important. They quickly turn back and begin arguing again.

"He's a ghost," Rose finishes. "It doesn't seem fair. Not to him, not to..."

She smartly decides not to complete her sentence, only staring into Hope's eyes intently.

"We shouldn't be talking about this..." Hope looks away, the emotion too much for her. She glances back down to the parchment in her hand. "Why don't we open our letters?"

She fingers the wax seal hesitantly. Rose opens her mouth like she wants to say more, but she ultimately decides against it. She nervously picks at her own envelope, an anxious smile touching her lips. "Together?"

"Together," Hope agrees, and both of them remove the seals and unfold their letters. If they hold their breaths, neither of them mention it.

Dear Hope,

I am glad to hear that you have returned to full health.

About the ball, do not be so absurd. Our designer has already fitted your mother and I for our evening robes, and you will be happy to know that your uncles and aunts shall be making an appearance as well.

Besides, a Mikaelson never passes an opportunity to socialize. You should know better than to presume you can so easily avoid such an event. Furthermore, Malivore Clarke has taken an interest in you. I have arranged a meeting between you and him the night of the ball. You will hear what he has to say, if I have taught you anything at all.

See you then,

Niklaus Mikaelson

In short—

Shit.

Hope blinks, almost in a daze. But really, what had she been expecting? For her father to listen to her? For her father to submit to her desires for once in her damn life?

Further, not only are her parents coming, but also her uncles and aunts. Merlin, if her uncle Kol comes, she thinks that there might be a blood bath. She can't trust that he'll act according to his best behavior, but if anything her family can do, it's pretend.

Hopefully, that small blessing will be enough for the ball. Hopefully, Hope might be able to distract her family long enough for the night to end before they notice Josie or her own family.

Worst of all, possibly, is that Hope now needs a date. A non-pureblood date. Just yesterday, she had been pushing Josie in the opposite direction, and it has all come back to thoroughly bite her in the ass.

It's no matter, though. She'll just ask someone she doesn't care about out, so if her family does anything to them, it won't hurt her. Who is she kidding?

If her family decides to pull any stunts at the ball at all, she might literally implode. She can already feel her magic collecting restlessly underneath her skin, pulsing to be released from her veins and into the air around her.

But would her family really do that? They've had to cover up many incidents along the years, and she doubts her family would try to add onto that—in public, either.

After the scandal with her father being suspected of murder several years ago, they've been lying pretty low for purebloods with high social standing. Her father's job in the ministry has helped plenty with that, so she just needs to keep an eye on all of her relatives during the ball.

No. She doesn't need to worry. Her father won't try anything, especially not at Hogwarts. The school is a safe zone for everyone inside of it, and no one has ever tried to disrupt the sanctity of it. Niklaus Mikaelson will not be the first. Surely.

Yes. Everything will be fine. Her family has too much power and restraint to do anything at all the ball. Everything will be great. Maybe not everything with Malivore Clarke, though.

What the hell does he want with Hope? Has her appeasements to him and her father not been enough along the years? Hope resolves to just talk to Ryan Clarke later, turning back to Rose just as the girl drops her letter in her lap with shaking fingers.

Hope doesn't immediately notice.

"Unsurprisingly enough," the pureblood drawls, "my father has chose to decline my proposal to abstain from the ball entirely."

"Fuck," she curses, mostly to herself, losing all sense of formality. Her thoughts return to the idea that plagues her most about attending the ball. "I have to bring a date."

Out of the corner of her eye, she catches Rose nodding almost distractedly, her own eyes on her lap.

"Nevermind my letter. What did yours say?" Hope asks obliviously. Rose suddenly stands, her letter falling to the floor. She frantically picks it up, and Hope hears her stammer out a string of nonsensical words before she flees the common room.

She narrows her eyes after her, only snapping from her stupor when Penelope stands from where she had been sitting next to Maya in front of the fireplace.

Hope holds up a hand to stop the girl from chasing after Rose.

"I got it," she breathes, ignoring Penelope and Maya's shared look of concern as she follows Rose out of the common room. She finds her in a nearby, empty corridor.

"Nicot!" she calls, but the girl doesn't turn around. She sighs. "Rose!"

Rose turns around with something that sounds suspiciously like a sob. When Hope's eyes skim over her face, she finds it tear-tracked and wet.

"What's wrong?" Hope asks, the pace of her heart quickening. She steps forward, only for Rose to step back. The girl wipes angrily at her eyes.

"Nothing," she says, but the letter in her hand says otherwise, crumpled in a tight fist. The harsh grip stretches the skin of her knuckles white and angry.

"Clearly not," the pureblood mutters, looking her up and down pointedly. Is it the air or Hope's lungs, when she suddenly can't breathe? "You can tell me anything."

"No," Rose laughs wetly, ringing sharp in her ears. "I don't think I can."

Hope furrows her eyebrows. Why can't she? The pureblood had revealed a lot to the girl in the past week, what is the difference now?

"You can try," Hope tells her. She gestures to the paper still clutched in Rose's hand.

"Is it the letter? What did your parents say?" she implores, with no small hint of confusion. She has the awful thought that the sight of Rose Nicot crying is one of the worst images she has ever had the absolute misery of witnessing.

"My dad didn't respond. This was my mom," Rose unwrinkles her letter, her shoulders relaxing in defeat. Her next words make Hope freeze. "She's leaving us."

"What do you mean?" Hope breathes.

Rose steels her gaze, looking somewhere passed the pureblood's shoulder.

"She's. Leaving. Us."

"Rose." Hope swallows thickly.

"No." Rose shakes her head. Her eyes become a bit glassy, and she looks to the ceiling to blink back tears. "I've said too much."

Hope shakes her own head.

"I would argue not enough," she insists. "I swear, you can tell me."

"No," Rose repeats. "I can't. You'll hate me."

"I could never hate you," Hope tries, but the words crack at the very edges. The girl across from her seems to observe her very carefully. She searches Hope's eyes for something, then seems to find it.

"You will," she tells Hope. "I think, I think all our friends will, too."

She sucks in a breath, bringing a hand to her chest. "How am I supposed to tell them? How am I supposed to tell Ethan, how am I supposed to tell Pen—"

"Tell them what, Rose?"

Rose laughs like glass.

"My mom had an affair with a muggle," she says. "My dad hid it from the world because he didn't want to tarnish our reputation. But my mom told me, before school started. She said that my father isn't my father. That, my real dad is a muggle."

Hope's lips part in surprise. Her eyes unfocus as she takes the information in.

"And now," Rose continues. "Now she's leaving us. She claims that she can't hide this part of her for any longer."

"Tell me." Hope snaps her gaze back up to Rose's. "Do you hate me now?"

And that's the question, isn't it? Does this change things? No, Hope realizes, this doesn't change anything at all. Rose Nicot is still the girl that had been the first to support Hope when she was picked as quidditch captain, she's still the girl that had snuck her chocolate cake from the kitchens during the stress of second year, she's still the girl that had forced Hope to study for her OWLs fifth year when the pureblood had all but given up.

How can she hate Rose when she has spent her week snogging a muggleborn and confessing her love to that muggleborn? How can Rose suggest such a thing when she knows of Hope's affair?

The answer is, she doesn't hate Rose.

"Of course not," Hope tells her, like it's the simplest thing in the world. "Listen, Nicot, I don't care that you're a halfblood anymore than I care about your obsession with apple pie..."

She trails off with a yelp as Rose storms up to her and throws two arms over her shoulders, thoroughly suffocating her. Hope hugs her back with a small chuckle.

When they separate, Hope smirks slightly.

"Hey, so if you're not a pureblood, can I take you to the ball?"

Rose smacks her.

—

On Friday, Professor McGonagall has her class transfiguring different blocks of materials into their own sculptures. Hope works on her own sculpture diligently, waving her wand with precise movements as almost every single student around her does the same.

Almost.

Josie Saltzman stands in front of her own block, her wand on her desk as she stares at the sculpture she has yet to start. Ten minutes into the period, Hope has already transfigured the cotton material of her block into white obsidian.

The pureblood sends a peek at Josie's block, which is still the wooden material McGonagall had set in front of her. She switches her gaze to Penelope across from her, who is sculpting her own block into the unimaginative statue of a green snake. Hope rolls her eyes.

"What are you doing?" Josie whispers next to her, as Hope begins spiking the back of her statue with a lighter white color. The pureblood pauses slightly.

"Why are you asking?" She smiles slyly. "Are you going to copy me if I tell you?"

Josie pinks. "What? No!"

"Use your imagination," Hope tells her simply, which has Josie growing a different kind of red. She glares into the side of the pureblood's head with the intensity of heat vision.

"I am!" Josie hisses, looking properly ticked off. "I just need an idea!"

"Oh?" Hope tsks. "Uncreative and desperate? Don't let McGonagall know."

Josie clenches her teeth, giving Hope an angry look. The pureblood ignores her, focusing on the memory of the ghost of a dragon flying around in her mind. She waves her wand and adds a jagged tail to her sculpture, smirking with satisfaction.

She can almost clearly visualize the head of the dragon now, she just needs to get the eyes right.

Josie continues to struggle next to her thirty minutes later, and when Hope glances over she finds the muggleborn sculpting quite the unflattering version of a tree.

"Wow," she says—completely shocked—before she can stop herself. Josie beams.

"You like it?"

Hope laughs before she can stop herself, too.

"Looks great," she lies, adding the finishing touches to her dragon just as McGonagall begins walking around the room.

"Very impressive, indeed, Miss Mikaelson," the Transfiguration professor comments, raising her eyebrows in surprise. Josie whirls her head to look at Hope's sculpture, her own eyebrows reaching her hairline.

McGonagall then looks at Josie's block and hums with deep contemplation. "Huh. Uninspired."

She then continues walking around the room, leaving a stunned and vaguely offended Saltzman twin behind in her wake.

"Uninspired?!" Josie glares at Hope, maybe realizing that the girl had lied to her before. "How is this uninspired?"

"You made a tree out of wood," Hope tells her with a straight face. She furrows her eyebrows. "Is that a serious question?"

Josie pouts and looks away, back to her sculpture. She stares at it with no small amount of sadness. Hope points her wand and murmurs a quiet spell, watching as a sentence engraves itself into the wood.

Are we still on for tonight?

In a flash, Josie flicks her wand at Hope's sculpture, and a burst of fire flares right into Hope's face from the dragon's mouth. She can barely make out the word the hot flames form:

Yes.

Hope rubs her eyes, coughing slightly as she glowers at the other girl. Josie stares back innocently.

"What?"

"You nearly singed off my eyebrows!" Hope yells, attracting the entire class' attention.

"You called my sculpture boring when yours isn't even all that great!"

"I did no such thing! And hey!"

McGonagall narrows her eyes at the pair, and Josie smartly decides not to reply to Hope's retort. The pureblood reaches over and runs a soothing hand along the length of the dragon's back, despite the fact that the dragon is inanimate and can't feel a thing.

"There, there," she consoles, "ignore her, baby."

"Excuse me?" Josie whispers next to her, and Hope smirks at her. The smirk drops when Josie twirls her wand in her fingers. The pureblood swallows.

"I thought you would appreciate my sculpture more," Hope tells her, the corners of her lips turning down. "I had you in mind."

Josie blushes, turning away with an expression the pureblood can't read.

—

Josie's back hits the wall of the supply closet with a stifled moan that sounds a bit like Hope's name. It hasn't even been a minute since the muggleborn hauled Hope's ass into the closet after Transfiguration ended, and she can't keep her hands off of her.

"We're going to be late for class—oh, god—"

"You're the one that dragged me in here," Hope smirks against her neck, planting another open-mouthed kiss down her collarbone. The pureblood thinks that's what she likes most about wearing muggle clothes on Fridays: easy access.

Hope then drags her tongue in a long line along the flesh of Josie's throat. The girl squirms against her, their hips pressed deliciously together.

A second later, Hope steps away completely, her eyes ravishing the brunette across from her with zero subtlety. Josie's own eyes flutter open in confusion.

"Why'd you stop?" She pouts, her head flat against the wall, breathing heavily.

"I thought you wanted me to," Hope tells her, her eyes darkening as she looks at the flush from Josie's neck all the way to her cheeks. Josie recovers quickly enough, stepping forward to close the distance and locking her wrists behind Hope's head.

"Don't think ever again," she says.

"That's kind of difficult—"

Josie shuts her up by connecting their lips once more. Hope chuckles against her mouth, but her laughter stops when Josie's tongue slips between her parted lips and coaxes a gentle groan out of her.

A part of Hope wants to tease the girl, a part of her wants to make Josie beg her not to stop, but the feeling of Josie's lips on hers distracts the pureblood enough to forget all about that side of her.

"You're hot when you're angry," Josie murmurs softly into her ear when they pull apart, dragging Hope's earlobe between her lips and scraping her teeth along it. Hope shudders, moving her hand along the small of Josie's lower back, drawing her even closer.

The pureblood sighs into the fog of lust around them, praying to Merlin in a bid to let them stay like this forever. Merlin does not listen, and the warning bell for next period rings, effectively tugging them out of the trance.

"Come on!" a male voice sounds from outside the closet. Hope peeks through the door and finds a sixth year in Gryffindor robes. He laces his words with innuendo. "I can show you a good time."

Another voice, this time female and familiar: Elizabeth Saltzman. "I'd rather have wrinkly-old Dumbledore show me a good time, now get away from me, you—"

"Lizzie?" Josie throws herself out of the door before her sister can finish her sentence, but Hope chooses to stay inside the closet.

"Oh, hey, sis," the blonde says. "Sorry, Chewbacca was just leaving, weren't you?"

Chewbacca? Hope frowns.

The boy that had been pestering the twin mumbles and Hope watches him leave through the crack in the door. Elizabeth calls after him. "One piece of advice, shave off that disgusting excuse for a beard if you want any girl to take you seriously when you ask them out!"

The boy mumbles something inaudible quickens his walking pace into a scared jog.

"Purebloods don't know what to do with themselves now," Elizabeth shakes her head, and the two sisters share a laugh. Hope scrunches up her nose from behind the door. It really isn't that funny.

"I thought MG was taking you to the ball?" Josie mentions, when they collect themselves. Hope sighs, resigning herself to the fact that she'll be late to her next class.

"About that...." Elizabeth trails off. "I haven't given him a straight answer."

"Please don't tell me that you're waiting for Sebastian to ask you." Hope perks up from within the closet. Hmm. She might just have to tell Sebastian go for it.

"What about Wee Willie Winkie?" Elizabeth deflects.

Who the fuck is that?

"Landon?" Hope's heart gives a weak thud in her chest. Had Landon asked Josie to the ball? What the hell? What the fucking— "I haven't given him a straight answer either."

"Hmm." Their voices begin to fade slightly, so Hope thinks that they're probably walking away at this point. "So, what are we doing in the cat lady's class? We better not be transfiguring cold water into hot water again, that was so lame..."

Hope slips out of the closet as the final bell rings. Great. She's late for Charms.

—

"Let me get this right," Penelope starts, later that day, her eyebrows furrowed. "You're cancelling practice because you think we deserve a break?"

"Exactly," Hope nods, "thank you for understanding—"

All at once, her entire team begins to laugh so hard she thinks their eyes might bulge out and fall to the floor. She gives them time to recover from their obvious bout of insanity, glaring silently at them until they straighten up again.

"I'm sorry," Penelope says, clutching at her stomach. "Just last week, it took an entire day of Maya and I begging you to cancel practice, and now you're doing it the night before a game because you feel like it?"

"Yup," she tells her, not offering another explanation. She makes eye contact with Rose, trying to convey her reason without saying anything. Hope needs to get going now if she doesn't want to be late for her date with Josie. She hadn't spent all night dreaming about it—all day thinking about it—for nothing.

"She's right," Rose cuts in. Penelope lights up, thinking that Rose is defending her. "Hope, I mean..."

Penelope deflates.

"We've been working hard all week, under my supervision as team leader—"

Hope shoots her a look. "Get your head out of your ass, Nicot. You were captain for two days."

"—and the best quidditch captain in Slytherin house history, I agree with team member—"

"Team captain," Hope corrects. Of course the title had gone to the girl's head.

"Team member," Rose reiterates, "Hope Mikaelson. Dismissed."

"No, not dismissed," Hope sends her another dirty look. "I dismiss you. Not Nicot. Anyways, goodnight, drink lots of water. Dismissed."

The second her team disperses from the common room, she all but flees down to the level below the great hall. The entrance isn't very secret or well-hidden, but not a lot of people know about it.

Hope finds the large painting of a fruit bowl very quickly, leaning against the wall with her hands in the pocket of her hoodie as she waits for Josie to join her.

The muggleborn appears at the entrance a couple of minutes later, hugging herself with her arms almost shyly. Inadvertently, her eyes move along Josie's body, taking in her cute, black skirt and her simple, pink blouse.

It seems that the brunette has changed into different clothes than she had been wearing during classes. Hope herself is still wearing the same-old muggle clothes she had bought a long time ago—the hoodie and skinny jeans combo, with a school-issued grey shirt underneath.

"Hey," Hope kicks off the wall, sounding a little winded. Would it be too much to greet Josie with a kiss? It's been getting harder to keep her lips away from the girl ever since she had first kissed her. "Well..."

Josie smiles, letting go of the grip on her elbows. Her hands fall to her sides.

"You look as pretty as always," Hope admits with breathtaking sincerity, her gaze opening slightly. If her voice sounds thicker than usual, she doesn't realize it.

"Thank you," the muggleborn tells her, eyes bright.

Hope holds out her hand, valiantly trying to fight off the beam on her own face. "Hungry?"

Josie tilts her head, but nods all the same. "A little," she confesses, taking Hope's outstretched hand. The contact makes the pureblood's skin buzz delightfully.

Hope smirks, gesturing with her head to the painting. "Tickle the pear."

Josie's thumb brushes her own in question, her eyes flitting to the pear in the fruit bowl. "Tickle it?"

Hope nods, completely serious. She reaches out with her other hand, as if to tickle Josie's side. "Do you need a demonstration?"

"No," Josie says, very, very quickly, catching Hope's fingers with her own. The pureblood grins, wondering if it's because the girl's ticklish or something else.

Josie drops one of her hands to skim her fingers along the painting, rubbing a little awkwardly against the pear. Within the next second, a green, pear-colored handle pops out and swings toward Josie, who squeaks and flinches so swiftly she brings Hope with her.

They both stumble around the handle, and Hope laughs as Josie's face scorches red. The muggleborn mumbles an apology and snaps her hand out to turn the handle, opening the painting as if it's a door.

The entrance gives away to the kitchens of Hogwarts, the delicious scent of mouth-watering food and dessert drifting into both girls' noses. Hope motions for Josie to go through first, closing the painting behind them.

She nearly runs into the brunette when Josie unexpectedly freezes. She places her hands on her hips to prevent that from happening, removing them when Josie whirls around in her grasp.

"House-elves make all the food?" she asks, her voice sounding very angry, indeed. Hope gulps.

"They like doing it?" Hope tells her, but her tone uplifts like a question. She inwardly groans.

"Just like how muggleborns love being inferior?" Josie crosses her arms.

"Okay," Hope placates her, making eye contact with Jinni from a nearby table. "No one has ever said that."

"Are you serious right now?!"

"Jinni!" she calls—for help—and the blue house-elf snaps her fingers and apparates across the room to the pair. A couple of other elves turn to look, but continue cooking. "You like working, don't you?"

"Miss Mikaelson!" Jinni greets, bowing her head slightly. The act of submission only infuriates Josie further. "Of course Jinni does!"

She glances over at the muggleborn a little wearily, possibly put off by the harsh expression on her face. "Oh, and who is Miss Mikaelson's friend?"

"This is Josette Saltzman," Hope introduces gallantly, deeply hoping that Jinni will like the muggleborn.

"Hi, Jinni," Josie smiles, not unkindly, but the corners of her lips are still tight. "Er, wouldn't you rather be free?"

"Free?" The kitchens go dead silent, as if sensing the word, every elf in the room stares at the muggleborn in shock, some even with disgust.

"Free?" Jinni squeaks out again with a shake of her head, but her eyes fog over as if remembering a distant memory or wish. She comes to a moment later, quick and sudden, like a candle blown out. Her next words are delicately clipped. "No, Jinni would never dream of that, Miss Saltzman."

Josie narrows her eyes but doesn't add anything, and guilt stirs in Hope's abdomen much like the tomato soup she can still distantly smell from when she first walked in. This time, it nauseates her instead of making her mouth water.

"I'm sorry if I offended you," the brunette apologizes, a bit hesitantly, and Jinni vehemently shakes her head.

"Miss did no such thing," she reassures, leading them over to a small table, where a few pots are simmering with steam. "What can Jinni help you with?"

"Do you think you can prepare us some dinner?" Hope asks, and the meaningful look Josie gives her tells the pureblood that she thinks the request was a little inconsiderate.

However, Jinni nods and nearly jumps with excitement, disappearing without asking them what they'd like to eat. It's no matter, though, since Hope had come hours earlier to notify Jinni of her plan to visit.

She pulls out a chair for Josie and sits next to her as they wait. She interprets the worried expression on the brunette's face incorrectly. "Don't worry." Hope smirks. "I told her that you're a vegetarian."

"Don't you feel bad?" Josie blurts, wringing her hands in her lap. She gestures to the elves working around them. "They've been brainwashed into believing that they actually enjoy serving us."

"What do you suggest?" Hope asks, a little obstinately. "That we throw the lot of them underneath the sorting hat and enroll them in classes? I bet Jinni would sort Ravenclaw."

Josie nods. Hope raises her eyebrows. She had been kidding. "They have magic of their own. Why not?"

"Look, Josie," she leans in, unconsciously searching for the taller girl's fingers. She pulls their hands onto her own lap. "They prefer stuff like this. When I was younger, I tried freeing one of my elves at the manor to cross my father, and she cried for an hour until I took it back. They—"

"You have elves?!"

Hope winces when Josie tugs her hand away, leaning back. "Did I say elves? I meant elbows. I have two."

Thank Merlin for Jinni, who takes that instant to appear next to them in a crack. With another snap of her fingers, the space around them on the table clutters with different plates of food. Hope's eyes widen—she hadn't asked for nearly that much.

Her eyes roam different types of pasta and bread, two different kinds of salads, lots of vegetables, and an entire rotisserie chicken. Hope lifts her brows at the bottle of elf-made wine in the middle of the table. The pureblood wonders if Dumbledore truly knows what his staff of house-elves are up to in his castle.

She turns back to Jinni, intent on thanking her. The blue house-elf shifts nervously between feet.

"Does miss like it?"

Hope smiles kindly. "Yes, thank you very much, Jinni. You certainly outdid yourself."

Jinni all but skips away, and Hope twists her body back to look at Josie, who sheepishly smiles at her in return with two cheeks adorably puffed full of food.

"I'm guessing you were downplaying your hunger earlier?" Hope asks with a smirk, her own stomach vaguely growling.

Josie swallows before she speaks, a hand over her mouth. She has the decency to appear embarrassed.

"I missed lunch," she explains, shrugging.

—

"Okay, close your eyes."

"No."

"Do you want to be surprised or not?"

"Not."

"Just close your eyes."

Josie finally does as Hope instructs, closing her eyes exasperatedly as the pureblood leads them to a secondary, unknown location. She had been afraid that she'd have to temporarily blind the girl with a spell, or cover her eyes with a cloth.

Hope guides the brunette with careful hands, making sure Josie doesn't trip or fall over a dent in the ground or a spare pebble. She already knows that the girl will murder her when they get to the quidditch pitch—she doesn't need to add on an injury to the mix.

"It's kind of cold. Are we outside?" Josie asks, just as they cross the courtyard onto the pathway to the pitch.

"No," Hope lies, because she can. She grins knowing Josie can't see it. Finally, when they reach the quidditch pitch, Hope untucks her wand from her sleeve.

"Can I open my eyes now?" Josie asks, for the fourth time during their little adventure. Hope shakes her head, before forgetting the muggleborn can't see her.

"No," she adds, waving her wand. She then whispers, "Accio broom."

"What did you just summon?" Josie twists her body left and right, like trying to see without her eyes. Hope curses herself, wishing she had been quieter.

"Nothing," she says. After about a minute, she catches her broomstick floating in the distance. She reaches out her hand and picks the broom out of the air as it comes near.

"You can open your eyes now."

Josie blinks once, twice, then—

"You're joking," she deadpans. Her eyes skim the quidditch stadium with clear distaste. She pouts, turning to Hope, pouting at the broom in her hand. "I'm wearing a skirt. Please tell me you're joking."

"I..." Hope pauses. "Am not."

"Fine, then," Josie turns around and begins to walk back up the path they came from. "I'm leaving."

Hope pulls her back towards her own body, rolling her eyes. "Where are you going?"

"Back to the kitchens," Josie states, a hint of determination in her eyes. She tries to look down her nose at Hope in contempt, but can't quite succeed in the way a Mikaelson naturally can. The pureblood chuckles with amusement. "Jinni is much better company than you."

"I thought you wanted to learn," she almost laughs, a wry smirk on her face.

"Oh, well, I changed my mind."

"Come on," Hope says, her voice a single note below a whine. "I cancelled the practice before our big game just for the two of us."

"That means nothing to me." Josie shrugs, but the light flush to her face gives her away. The sky is getting slightly dark, but Hope can still see the pink at the corner of her cheeks. She stares a bit too long.

"Alright," Hope clips out, her face blank. Josie instantly frowns. "Goodnight, then. See you in the morning."

She slowly moves passed the brunette, who juts out her bottom lip in another adorable pout.

"Wait."

—

Hope and Josie stand together in the small broomshed, the taller girl scanning each broom with finicky eyes, as if making the hardest decision in her life. She pauses for a moment, and Hope thinks that she's about to finally choose one when the girl only continues looking around. It's been ten minutes since they first came into the broomshed.

"Merlin, just pick one," Hope huffs. "It's not your wand-choosing ceremony. They're all the same."

"But they're not!" Josie insists, pointing at a random broom to the right. "Look, that one has a dent on the handle."

She points to another one. "And that one's darker than the others."

"So now you're racist?"

"Shut up." Josie glares at her, swiping a hand out towards Hope's own broom. "Can't I just use your broom?"

The pureblood moves it out of her reach.

"You're not touching my baby," she tells her, completely serious. Her fingers grip the handle of her broom more steadily, almost fondling it. She glances over with adoration in her eyes, staring at her broom lovingly. Thank Merlin she had been able to save it from Elizabeth Saltman's awful prank.

"No?" Josie grins, raising her eyebrows and moving forward. She tilts her head suggestively, and Hope eyes the skin of her neck revealed, her mind swarming with ideas.

"No," Hope swallows, her voice coming out a little deeper than she would like. She stumbles backwards, thinking that she sounds like someone has just scraped her tongue raw. Josie only steps forward again, somehow pinning her against the wall with several inches between them.

The grin on Josie's face stretches even wider, and she places a gentle hand on the side of Hope's neck, leaning in with agonizing slowness.

Her breath comes steady and intoxicating against Hope's lips, the scent of her shampoo tantalizing to her nose. The pureblood's eyes flutter close as Josie closes the distance, just barely, their lips ghosting over each other's once, twice, then—

Her broom gets yanked out of her grasp, and she snaps open her eyes to catch a head of brown hair swiftly exiting the broom shed. She can only hear the creak of the wooden door slamming before she realizes what's happened.

Hope grumbles and grabs a random broom, following after her like she always tends to do. Somehow, Josie is already standing in the middle of the pitch when she finds her.

Her hands are nervously palming Hope's broom, which the pureblood quickly snatches out of her hands.

"Here you go." Hope replaces it with the random broom she had taken from the shed, only smiling when Josie narrows her eyes at her.

"Your broom feels safer," she whines, with a slight pout. She's right, though, mostly because Hope has a Thunderbolt X, whereas the school brooms are all Nimbus 2001's. Hers has a better cushioning charm and speed enhancement, which one can already tell just by holding it.

"Exactly," Hope agrees. "My broom."

Josie stares at her.

"Asshat," she mutters underneath her breath, stomping away.

Hope sighs. She had known Josie would chicken out again. "Where are you going now?"

"Anywhere with light," the girl tells her, turning around when Hope pulls her back once again. "It's too dark. I'll fall to my death and you won't even see it."

Hope chuckles, which only makes Josie more irritated.

"Slytherin always practices this late," she tries to soothe her worries. "Your vision should adjust sooner or later."

"Mine already has," the pureblood adds, gloating slightly. "I can see perfectly."

The words make Josie pause, and she faces Hope completely.

"Oh, perfectly?" she asks, looking like she's about to prove Hope wrong. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Three."

"I'm holding up both of my hands," Josie tells her seriously, as if confirming some huge conspiracy. She tries to leave again, but Hope snakes a tight arm around her waist and pulls her back flush against the pureblood's front.

"I was joking," she whispers, letting the gentle breeze carry her words to Josie's ear. She places her lips softly against the brunette's cheek and holds them there, two seconds longer than a peck. "Relax."

"Okay?" She turns the girl around with her arm, inhaling her natural scent quietly. Josie seems much better when their eyes meet.

"Okay," the muggleborn agrees, stepping away. Hope misses their closeness but chooses not to speak up about it. That would be too embarrassing for her, she thinks.

"Okay," Hope repeats, grabbing her broom and dropping it to the floor on her right. "Let's start with the basics. Place your broom on the ground."

Josie does as told.

"Now, repeat after me," Hope moves her hand over the broom, her mind going back to her first-year flying lesson, where Madame Hooch had said the same words. "Up."

The broom floats up to her hand like a lightning bolt, perfect and yielding in her grasp. She looks at Josie expectantly. "Your turn."

"Up," Josie says, but the broom doesn't move a single inch or centimeter, not up, left, or right. "Up. Up. Up. Up. Up. Up. Up. Up. Up. Up. Up. Up. Up. Up. Up. Up—"

"Stop!" Hope clamps her hands over her ears, since Josie had decided to start yelling halfway through. "My ears are bleeding."

The brunette looks unimpressed. She speaks up after a short, impatient moment. "Can I continue now?"

"No!" Hope says quickly, settling down as her ears stop ringing. She thinks that she might have ruptured an ear drum.

"Why not?"

"Well, for one, I lost my hearing," Hope tells her. "Second, you can't ask the broom to listen, you have to command it. Somehow, even when you're screaming your head off, you sound too sweet."

Josie blushes, dropping her eyes to the broom. She then seems to harden her gaze, the pink color in her cheeks lessening. In the snobbiest, most pretentious tone the pureblood has ever heard in her life, Josie orders, "I'm Hope Mikaelson, and you must heed my words or else. Up."

The broom snaps up into her hand quicker than Hope's had during her demonstration, and she beams with excitement and satisfaction.

Hope shoots her an amused look. "Really?"

Josie shrugs, still smiling innocently.

"Alright." Hope narrows her eyes, observing the broom in Josie's hold. "You can mount it, now."

Josie giggles, but the pureblood doesn't immediately understand. "Mount it, you say?"

A blush works its way up Hope's neck. "I, uh—just get on the damn broom."

Josie smooths out her skirt, lifting her leg before stopping herself. "Will this hurt me?"

"What do you mean?" Hope frowns.

Josie sends a meaningful glance down, her fingers itching over the hem of her top. Her other hand on the broom rubs over the handle to examine it.

"Ah," Hope suddenly understands. Josie is wearing skirt, after all. She wills her face to stay impassive, she wills the blush creeping at her shoulders to disappear. "No. I think there should be a decent cushioning charm to support you."

"Okay," Josie seems to accept that, positioning herself a bit awkwardly on the broom. Hope watches it with a high amount of enjoyment. Then, the muggleborn tilts her head and looks at her oddly.

"Don't look up my skirt," she adds casually, and Hope makes a strangling noise being her teeth. She coughs, looking away. The reaction seems to deeply satisfy Josie.

"Of course not," she replies, her voice rough in all the wrong—or right?—places. Josie laughs, and Hope glares at her. "Are you going to keep teasing me or should we begin?"

Josie nods, a bit slowly, a bit reluctantly, and the pureblood remembers that maybe all this teasing has a purpose. That maybe Josie is trying to distract them from flying.

"Here," Hope places a light hand on the small of her back, moving her forward on the broom. "You don't want to be too close to the back or you might fall off."

It's the wrong thing to say, because the sentence only seems to stress Josie out more. The muggleborn tenses enough for Hope to feel the muscles of her back tighten beneath her skin.

"Kick off whenever you're ready," she says, her voice low. She resists the urge to raise her guiding hand higher into brown locks. "Lean forward to go up."

She then steps back, not wanting to accidentally be kicked or hit in the face when Josie inevitably does something wrong. Hope grips her own broom in anticipation.

A minute passes and Josie just sits there.

"Whenever you're ready..." Hope mentions, once again, because she knows if the muggleborn doesn't get started quickly she won't at all. With a sharp intake of breath, Josie kicks off the ground.

Too hard.

She catapults herself into the air shrieking like a madwoman, her legs kicking in random directions with a death-grip on the handle.

"Pull down on the handle!" Hope yells at her, but Josie must not be able to hear her because she only pulls up and sends herself thirty feet into the sky. Her first reaction is to laugh at the funny situation, but her heart drops at when she catches a glimpse of the look of pure horror on Josie's face.

Hope rubs at her forehead, not wanting to watch whatever happens next. She sighs as Josie sends herself zigzagging in a million different directions, the sounds of her screams so loud that Hope feels the noise reverberate through her teeth like it's whispered right into her ear.

She quickly mounts her own broom, steadily shooting towards Josie with a panic that had been wholly unfamiliar to her until two months ago. It seems, since she had met the muggleborn, that all she's been able to feel is panic and far too many emotions.

"Josie!" she yells again as she approaches the girl. "Pull down on your handle!"

Fortunately, Josie hears her this time, and she relaxes her body and pulls down on the handle. Unfortunately, the muggleborn's body is unaccustomed to the speed, and she jumps forward while her broom stays still.

Hope's pupils dilate as she practically launches herself off the front of the broom, falling through the air at a horrifying speed. Without a body and magic to guide it, the stick begins to fall right next to her, albeit at a much slower pace.

Hope leans forward and pulls all the way down on her handle, bolting through the sky with dread lining her insides. Her teeth clench with brutal intensity, her heart pounding louder than the sound of her zipping through the air.

Her blood runs cold. She stops breathing.

Hope positions herself right below the falling girl, holding out her arms and bracing herself for the inevitable collision. Hopefully, the pureblood will be enough to break her fall.

With an oomph tumbling out of her lips, Hope's arms bend dangerously, the addition of another person in them almost breaking her bones. She grits her teeth through the pain, her mouth letting out a small hiss as she catches Josie, one hand under her knees and one behind her back.

She leans forward with the weight, her head bowing over Josie's body as she greedily forces air into her lungs. The broom drops about ten feet before Hope can properly balance it.

Blue and brown meet silently, the sound around them rushing by their ears and stiffening into a void.

"You caught me," Josie breathes, her hair a mess of tangles and wind but so, so beautiful. Hope nods dumbly, beyond breathless, her lungs starving for oxygen, yet she can't seem to inhale completely right.

She does her best to coolly smirk, suddenly sweltering in her hoodie. She gets the sudden need to tear it off of her body, to feel Josie's skin on hers without the barrier of clothing. "Did you think I would let you fall?"

Josie laughs, a disbelieving and incredulous sound that once can only manage after a near-death experience. She drops her arms from Hope's shoulders, settling herself on the broom more solidly.

Her breath hitches as her gaze finds Hope's again—Hope, who hasn't stopped staring at her since she kicked off the ground, who is too scared to let her out of her vision for fear of the girl falling again.

The pureblood leans forward once more before she can stop herself, dipping her lips down to Josie's. Her mouth is chapped from the harsh elements of wind and air, but she doesn't think the muggleborn cares all that much when she makes a pleased sound in response.

Her hands wrap around Hope's shoulders once again, leaning up the best she can to meet her kiss for kiss, touch for touch, breath for breath. Hope thinks, very briefly, that sharing air tastes so much better this high up, with her head spinning and dizzy.

It all distracts her so much that she accidentally leans the wrong way on the broom, sending them plummeting nearly another thirty feet before she notices.

She only does notice when Josie's arms become suffocating around her neck, pulling away from her lips to gasp directly into her ear.

Hope scrambles for purchase on the broom, her hands flying everywhere to keep them both steady and still. She inhales deeply and closes her eyes when they stop, only a couple of feet above the ground. Shit.

"Hope," Josie sucks in a breath, her nails still clawing at the back of Hope's neck, her fingers clenched deep within her hair. Hope flutters her eyes back open slowly. "You..."

She trails off, her teeth biting into her bottom lip as she glances down, and the pureblood follows her eyes to find her hand and most of her arm up Josie's skirt, her fingers skimming soft skin.

Fuck.

How does this always happen to her?

Hope swipes her hand out quickly, receiving something that sounds a lot like a moan when her fingers accidentally brush a sensitive spot on the brunette's thighs.

She repositions the hand on top of her other one on the broom, gently lowering them to the ground. Josie immediately pushes her and leaps off the broom, and Hope almost loses her balance. She glares at the other girl as she steps off the stick.

"I am never doing that again!" Josie says, pointing at the pureblood accusingly. Hope averts her gaze, looking around for the broom Josie had been riding. She finds it all the way across the pitch, in broken splinters.

"We haven't even gotten to the best part," Hope complains, pleading with her eyes.

"Oh, I see," Josie stalks away, pulling down her skirt. Hope's traitorous eyes follow the motion. "Is that when you kill me yourself? I knew falling to my death was too easy for you."

Hope watches her for about a minute, letting Josie get a good distance away before she floats after her on her trusty broom.

She whizzes in front of the girl, tilting her head with a small smile. "Get on."

It looks like Josie doesn't want this night to end as much as Hope does, because she actually listens, even if it takes about a minute or two of her crossing her arms and thinking about it.

Hope tries not to move a muscle or make a single sound as Josie makes herself comfortably behind her, pulling her front to Hope's back hesitantly. Her fingers tap against the pureblood sides, unsure of where to let them lie, and they hover in the air for a silent second.

"Hang on tight," Hope advises, starting to move forward so Josie gets the message. She waits another second as the muggleborn curls her hands around her waist, slotting her chin over her shoulder.

Her fingers interlocking against Hope's stomach feels so nice that the shorter girl nearly hums at the feeling, but she gathers herself enough to bring them up slowly.

They circle the pitch a couple of times, just Hope letting Josie get used to what normal, relaxes flying feels like. Once the brunette seems to ease into it, she starts to bring them away from the pitch and towards the Great Lake.

When Hope decides to fly over twenty miles an hour, Josie screams and clamps around her, which the pureblood rolls her eyes at but slows down nonetheless.

"You can go faster," Josie tells her, a couple of minutes later, as they approach the lake. Hope raises her eyebrows knowing the other girl can't see it, flying lower and faster enough that the water zooms past them, not a foot away from their feet.

The speed forms a thin layer of mist around them that feels nice against Hope's face, and she can tell that Josie is also enjoying it when she grins into Hope's neck like a secret.