A/N: Hey guys, so if you've been here since the beginning, you might notice I took down the rating from an M t few chapters in. This was because I felt like the story wasn't meeting the 'M' requirements, and also so more people would get a chance to see it, being that T is a much more common search parameter.
With this chapter, however, I'm forced to kick it back up to an M. So from here on out, the content is going to get a whole lot more adult, starting with a fairly graphic smut scene towards the end of this chapter. This is your final warning.
Hope you enjoy!
Hermione was in a state; Ron still wasn't talking to her, and Harry was cordial at best. Winona felt bad, doing all she could to involve the girl in her day to keep her occupied, but Hermione could hardly stand the twins' company, and they were more often than not by her side. The younger student was only annoyed by their loud, lewd jokes and sly pranks, so Winona felt like she was really just doing Hermione a bigger favour by keeping them separated.
"We're trying to help," Fred said offhandedly when she brought it up, draped over the couch by the fire, sucking on the end of one of her Sugar Quills. "Not our fault she wouldn't know funny if she tripped over it on the way to class – Lee! Pass the Cauldron Cakes!"
Winona sighed, leaning back in her seat, curled in a thick, squishy armchair, nibbling on a small slice of peanut brittle she'd swiped from the kitchens.
"Dunno why you're so worried. She'll live," George told her, halfheartedly working on a Transfiguration essay due the day after next.
"Guess I just feel bad for the girl," she shrugged, casting Hermione a glance, the third year at her usual spot in the common room, her tabletop more textbook than polished wood. "She's nice, once you get past the whole know-it-all thing."
George snorted before leaning back, apparently giving up on his homework.
"I mean, I wouldn't be able to handle it if the two of you wouldn't talk to me," she said. Fred looked up from the Chocolate Frog cards he was sifting through with Lee.
"We'd never stop talking to you over something so petty as a cat," he told her in a scoff, as though the mere suggestion was insulting.
Her mind flew to Jeremiah, and uneasiness spread through her system like a black dye, dripping into her veins like a poison. "What about over something not petty?" she asked, crease between her brows deepening.
Lee wasn't paying attention, muttering a spell over the cards, his wand sparking at the tip. She decided against asking what he was trying to do. The twins, on the other hand, both looked up at her curiously.
"I just mean..." she trailed off, not knowing how to voice her thoughts without sounding stupid. "Forget it," she finished lamely, forcing a chuckle and turning back to the homework she'd long since forgotten, her Arithmancy equations sitting unanswered before her.
"Don't worry, Win," Fred said despite her casual shrug. "We'll be around for so long, you'll get sick of us!"
"I'm already there," she told him slyly, falling back on humour rather than any real emotion. The twins let out mock gasps and punched her in the arm, one on either side. She grinned, putting aside her worries and opening her mouth to say something when she caught sight of another head of fiery red climbing through the portrait hole beside a familiar head of inky, untameable black. Eyes narrowing, Winona pushed her forgotten homework off her lap and stood to her feet.
The twins let out teasing 'oohs' from behind her as she strode towards Ron with purpose.
The look on her face must have been mildly terrifying, because Ron let out a squeak of fear when he saw her marching towards him.
"What in Merlin's name is wrong with you?" she snapped as she approached. Both boys looked uncomfortable, glancing at one another, unsure how to answer. "Hermione is an absolute wreck, and the two of you think it's okay to ostracise her like she murdered a rat in cold blood?"
Ron flushed red, but Harry continued to appear uncomfortable, like he was desperately wishing he were anywhere else.
"Imagine how you would feel if Hermione and Harry stopped talking to you because of something accidental," she hissed furiously. "Not to mention the whole broom thing – which she only did to protect you, but you immature little blighters-"
"Winona!" Harry exclaimed, bringing her ranting to an abrupt but necessary stop. She fell quiet, eyes narrowed at him, thinking that he sure as hell had better have a good reason for interrupting her. "We just got back from tea with Hagrid," he explained, hands held out placatingly. "He's already spoken to us about it, and we agree."
Ron looked like he wasn't quite sure that was true, but he didn't argue, pressing his lips into a thin line that reminded Winona starkly of his mother.
"So you'll stop being dickheads to Hermione?" she confirmed.
The pair seemed exasperated by the question, rolling their eyes in a way she didn't appreciate. They also didn't answer, but she figured it was as good as she was going to get from a pair of thirteen year old wizards.
"If she comes to me crying one more time," she added menacingly, jabbing a finger in their direction. She didn't need to finish the threat, they both knew she'd turn them inside out if it ever came down to it.
The pair nodded, and she beamed her satisfaction. "Good," she said brightly, stepping between them and hooking an arm around each of their shoulders. "Now, will you fellas be joining us down in Hogsmeade next weekend?" she asked jovially, and they both looked like they'd gotten whiplash from her abrupt change of demeanour.
"It's a Hogsmeade weekend?" Ron asked slowly, as though still not quite sure whether or not she'd bite off his head for doing so.
"Sure is, Pipsqueak," she replied, and he grimaced at the name.
"What d'you reckon?" he added quietly to Harry as they both delicately shook off Winona's hold and went to sit down.
"Well, Filch hasn't done anything about the passage into Honeydukes..." she heard Harry say, and couldn't help but smirk to herself as she turned and left, heading back over to the twins, who were tossing crumpled up pieces of parchment at Angelina, awarding points for every hit on the head.
"You know, that essay on Chinese Chomping Cabbage isn't going to write itself," Alicia singsonged, leaning over the back of the couch she'd once more settled upon. Winona groaned, shoving away her still-unfinished Arithmancy charts and picking up a spare piece of parchment, halfheartedly beginning her Herbology homework.
Two nights later, and Winona was dragging her feet towards Trelawney's tower for their weekly lesson. The twins had offered to walk with her, but they'd gotten distracted by one of their schemes, and she was forced to head up there alone on a stomach only half-full of dinner.
She hadn't had many visions lately, but almost every time she went up into the Divination Professor's office she got triggered into one. She guessed it had something to do with the different incense and candles the batty old witch always had burning, but she couldn't say for sure.
"My dear, come in!" Trelawney rasped, appearing just as she lifted a hand to knock on the door. Used to it, Winona stepped inside and put down her bag, art supplies clacking together from within. "Tonight, we shall be working on inducing your visions," Trelawney told her hoarsely, hands held up to the ceiling, each of her knuckles adorned with tacky, twinkling jewellery.
Taking a seat on the cushion beside the small table on the ground, Winona settled herself onto it, getting comfortable in preparation for the lesson ahead.
Trelawney turned away, reappearing a moment later with a tray full of foul-smelling tea. "Drink this," the witch said in her breathy, mystical voice.
Winona took the small, blue teacup in her hands, the porcelain warm against her cool skin, and lifted it to her mouth, taking a hesitant sip. It tasted just as horrible as it smelt – sickly sweet and painfully minty – but she choked it down anyway, watching as Trelawney happily guzzled the stuff like it were butterbeer on a frosty winter's day. She gestured for her to drink more, and Winona reluctantly took a deeper sip.
"It's sage tea," Trelawney answered her unspoken question, "mixed with powdered unicorn horn, essence of pixie brain and some Giant Purple Toad Wart. With mint leaves for extra flavour."
"Great," she murmured, voice thick with sarcasm that wasn't acknowledged, feeling ill at the thought of drinking such a concoction. She had to remind herself that she was a witch – ingesting those sorts of things was part of the job description. "And, why are we drinking it?" she asked carefully, wondering if she even wanted to know the answer, now that she knew exactly what she was swallowing.
"To unclog the receptors and focus our inner eye," Trelawney rasped.
They fell back into a tense silence, Trelawney staring at her as though waiting for something to happen, which only served to make Winona more nervous. Neither spoke until even the very last dregs of the disgusting tea had been consumed.
"What now?" Winona asked, looking around as though she might find the answer amongst the Divination teacher's eclectic possessions.
Trelawney made a motion she'd become familiar with over the course of their sessions, one that told her to fetch her drawing materials from her bag. She did as she was told, laying her sketchbook and a simple pencil in front of her.
"Now, you must clear your mind," Trelawney finally answered her, fingers wiggling oddly along with her words. Winona wondered whether she had some kind of incurable twitch. "See into the future!" she exclaimed with passion, staring off into the distance with a dazed, wistful expression.
"Right," Winona replied skeptically. "And, how do I go about doing that...exactly?" she asked, desperately needing further direction.
Professor Trelawney sighed as though greatly burdened by Winona's ineffable ignorance.
"Relax your muscles," she finally said in a breathy voice, hands still wiggling in the air between them like they had a mind of their own. "Breathe in, allowing the air to fill your every atom," she commanded airily, and despite how ridiculous she looked, Winona knew it was in her best interest to just go along with the giant, glittering insect's words.
She straightened her spine but relaxed her shoulders, casting the room and its countless flickering candles one last look before closing her eyes and inhaling, doing as instructed by the batty Professor.
She saw nothing but blackness once her eyes were shut, but she hadn't known what she'd really expected, anyway.
"Now exhale, releasing all tension in your body," Trelawney instructed her gently, and Winona could hear her loud breathing as she followed her own orders. "Forget the feel of your robes on your skin, and the cushion beneath you – shed your physical body, and step into the next realm, the realm overlooking time itself…"
Winona was lost, but she continued to breathe as instructed, inhaling, finding herself calming. She tried to forget about the weight of cloth on her skin and 'shed her physical body', but it seemed farfetched and ridiculous.
"Keep breathing, Miss Andrews," Trelawney ordered in her usual, wispy tone. "Focus on the air filling your lungs."
With every breath, Winona was feeling more and more relaxed, perhaps even lightheaded. It was probably the incense swimming around in her head like a smog, the scents clashing, too-sweet on her sensitive nose. She hadn't realised it had begun to work until suddenly she noticed she could no longer feel the cushion under her, or even smell the herbs in the room.
Suddenly she wasn't in the physical world, but somewhere different, somewhere else. She couldn't see anything, but instead could feel things, possibilities, flying past her in the darkness. She had no hands to reach out and grasp them with, and she didn't know how to make one stick.
What was she supposed to do? Where was she supposed to go from here? She couldn't even open her mouth to shout for help, though for who would she call? Who could possibly help her now?
A heartbreaking sound rang in her ears, appearing from the blackened fog like a dart, and she latched onto it with everything she had. She knew this was what she had to see, and she dove into it, knowing, instinctively, how to navigate herself through the encompassing shadows.
Finally she could see something other than darkness, but it wasn't clear. Her visions never were.
Instead she was met with flickering images, all cloudy and murky, like the bottom of the pond at the Burrow. There were voices, some familiar, some not, but they were all equally muffled, like she was listening through a thick door.
She pushed harder, trying desperately to break through the barriers that seemed so intent on locking her out.
"12 years of it!" a chilling, desperate, deranged sort of voice screamed, so clear and sudden that she felt her consciousness jerk back. "In Azkaban!" the person was bellowing.
Drawing on her Gryffindor courage, she tried to push herself forwards, but all too quickly the muddy images were slipping from her grasp like smoke through her fingers, and she was falling, her stomach heaving as she seemed to plunge through that inky nothingness, further and further with no end in sight. Just when she thought she was going to be falling forever, she landed, only to realise she hadn't been plummeting at all.
She was sat on the cushion in the dank Divination room, Professor Trelawney staring at her in rapture, like she were Merlin reincarnated – which was nothing new, the batty old witch reacted the same way every time she had a vision.
Winona swallowed, reacquainting herself with having a bod and, running her fingertips down her sides. Taking a deep breath, she released it with a loud, heavy sigh.
Trelawney had finally stopped staring at her, and was instead blinking down at her sketchbook with those insectile eyes. Steeling herself for whatever she was about to see, Winona looked down, eyebrows raising in surprise when she was met with the sight of Sirius Black in all his unhinged glory.
He looked exactly the same as he had when they met that night in the common room, when he'd said her name like she were a long lost friend. Only, there was something in the way she'd drawn his eyes, something that glinted almost similarly to hope.
He was in some kind of room, one she'd never seen before. It was torn apart, as though a wild animal had been set loose inside. There was nobody apart from Black himself in the sketch, but she knew, the same way she always did, that somebody else was there.
Trelawney looked ready to bounce where she sat with exuberance, but thankfully she reined herself in, merely tossing the younger Seer a thin-lipped beam. "How do you feel?" she asked eagerly. Winona nodded her head, but that only made the room spin.
"I'm alright," she replied once she was sure nothing would come out of her mouth should she open it. "I think I need some rest, though," she added weakly, but the teacher was already nodding her head.
"Yes, yes, of course," she told Winona hurriedly, scrambling to her feet and beginning to gather up their used teacups with the loud clacking of her delicate porcelain. "Head on off to bed, I dare say this is enough work for one night. I must speak with Dumbledore," she added quietly, and though Winona knew she was supposed to go to Dumbledore with her sketch immediately, all she wanted to do was sleep.
The session had more than taken it out of her.
She called a vague but polite farewell to Trelawney, only the Professor was still muttering to herself determinedly, so she left the classroom quietly, making a beeline for Gryffindor Tower. She passed Nearly-Headless Nick on the way back. He tried to start a conversation, but she made the excuse of having to use the loo, escaping quickly.
The common room was still half full, people only just beginning to break away from their groups and wander up the stairs to bed.
She found Angelina, the twins and Katie over at the chairs by the window, chatting airily amongst themselves, doing a great job of ignoring the essays waiting to be finished on the table before them. She'd have liked to sit with them, but she was tired and her brain ached from the force of that vision.
"Winnie!" Angelina called, spotting her as she tried to inconspicuously slip up the staircase. Sighing, Winona turned, pasting a smile into place on her face so none of them would know anything was amiss. The last thing she wanted was to burden them with her problems.
"Hey, you lot," she said, attempting a lighthearted tone, dropping reluctantly into the only spare seat available.
"Did you hear?" Katie asked eagerly, leaning over the table to grin at her.
"You'll have to be more specific."
"These two here," she began, tossing her chin at George and Fred, "fed some Swelling Solution to Flint and his ugly minions!"
Winona wasn't in the mood to chat, but she had to admit, if anything could have made her feel better, it was the twins and their brilliant, ridiculous antics. "You're kidding," she said, turning to face the two identical redheads who were both beaming proudly. "How'd you manage it?"
"Slipped it into their pumpkin juice when they weren't looking, of course," Fred told her as though it should have been obvious.
"It was almost too easy," George added with a look of mock-disappointment.
"And?" she pressed.
"Swelled to nearly double their size!" Fred replied eagerly, his eyes lit up with the excitement of the prank. "They started yelling like crazy, but their lips went all puffy, so they couldn't get out a word!"
"And nobody caught you?"
"Well, the Slytherins saw us near their table, but they have no proof it was us," George told her giddily.
"Godric," she murmured with a breathless laugh. "Wish I'd seen it."
"Where were you, anyway?" Angelina asked, looking curious.
"Detention," Winona lied with ease, and thankfully everyone who wasn't already in the know nodded as though this were completely believable. Were she anyone else, she might have been offended by how easily accepted the excuse was. Nobody asked any questions, either – probably believing it was safer to have plausible deniability, as they'd learnt from past experiences with the twins.
"You done the Herbology homework yet?" Angelina asked, leaning down to pick up her book bag and pull out a half-finished essay. The twins groaned at the reminder of work. "Come on, we do have OWLs in less than four months – we need to keep up our studies," Angelina added with a faint hint of sternness. Angelina, though nowhere near 'Hermione' levels of academia, was by far the most schoolwork-orientated member of their group. She was often the one reminding them all to complete their homework and study for exams.
"Exactly, Ange," Winona said with the same groan as the twins, she herself so low on the academia spectrum that she probably didn't even appear on the parchment. "Four months – that's practically an eternity away."
Angelina rolled her eyes, turning to look at Fred with a kind of exasperated expression. Winona didn't care to look and see what expression he responded with, but by the disappointed frown on Angelina's face, it clearly wasn't the one she'd been hoping for.
"If I finish the essay now, will you get off our backs?" George asked Angelina, who recovered with an unconvincing smirk.
"Sure, Georgie," she told him with a sarcastic smile. George snorted loudly before fishing out his textbook and parchment. "You too, Winona," she added jokingly, the strange moment from before dissipating like vapour as she smiled.
"All right, fine," Winona groaned, pushing herself to her feet. "I'll go fetch my things, shall I?"
"You'd better come back," Angelina said threateningly.
"Witch's honour," she promised, tossing her friend a salute before turning and heading up the stairs. The dorm was empty except for someone in the shower, and Winona was relieved for the moment of quiet to decompress.
Dumping her bag at the bottom of her bed, she took a beat to breathe deeply, cracking her knuckles and shaking off the evening's activities. She got changed, pulling on comfortable old pants and a holey jumper, more than glad to kick off her shoes. Collecting her homework materials, Winona left the dorm, her bare feet quiet as they hit the stairs.
When she reached the common room, she found Fred and George waiting for her at the foot of the stairs. "So?" they asked without waiting for her to greet them.
She knew what they were asking. "It went fine," she told them in an undertone, pushing herself up onto her toes to cast a glance over their shoulders at Angelina and Katie, who had been joined by Alicia, all of them munching on Cauldron Cakes and scribbling homework onto their rolls of parchment. "I'm tired," she added honestly when she noticed their expectant expressions. "But I'm always tired, so, what's new?"
"Maybe you should head up to bed," Fred told her, but she was quick to shake her head.
"My homework isn't gonna finish itself," she replied with only a hint of bitterness. Pasting a smile onto her face, she told herself to gather her energy, then playfully pushed through the pair of them. "Come on, Masterminds," she said, sticking out her tongue. "We've got essays to bullshit."
A few days later was her first session with Dumbledore. Winona found herself unexpectedly nervous as she wound her way through the halls of the ancient castle towards the Headmaster's large, extravagant office.
Dumbledore was going to be looking inside her mind. Who knew what he might stumble across? Would he see his own death, something she'd glimpsed at once in first year? Would he find out about her and Jeremiah? Worse still, would he walk into the memories of the pair of them snogging in a broom cupboard? She couldn't think of anything more mortifying.
Still, these fears weren't good enough reasons to back out of the lessons – and she was sure Dumbledore wouldn't allow it even if she tried.
Giving the password with a resigned sigh, Winona watched reluctantly as the looming Gargoyle leapt aside to reveal the spinning staircase. She stepped onto it with a grimace.
Dumbledore called for her to enter and she stepped inside, walking over to his desk and dropping her bag by the leg of the chair, taking a seat and crossing her legs underneath her robe. "How are you feeling this evening, Miss Andrews?" the Headmaster asked her pleasantly.
Although she wasn't in the mood for smalltalk, Winona replied in kind. "I'm okay," she answered with a shrug. "And yourself?"
"I'm well."
"That's good," she said lamely, for lack of a better response.
Dumbledore's hands were folded in front of him, and they sat in silence for a long moment before he began to speak. "Some things to keep in mind before we begin," he said, and she was glad they were getting to the point. "There are many ways to shield your thoughts from intruders, but it can be different for everybody. Some people imagine their secrets locked behind impenetrable doors, others build walls around their memories, constructing them brick by brick. You might even imagine a shield of magic wrapped tightly around your thoughts, blocking them from view."
Winona nodded to assure him she understood. The pit of nerves in her stomach only grew – she really hoped this process wasn't going to hurt.
"Do everything you can to fight me, Winona," he continued sombrely. "Your safety, and the safety of the Wizarding world, may one day rest upon you having this skill."
Swallowing around the uncomfortable lump in her throat, Winona nodded her head, and the Headmaster withdrew his long, elegant wand from his sleeve.
"Are you ready?" he asked quietly, blue eyes not twinkling as usual, but instead hard as diamonds. That, more than anything, told her how serious this was. Gritting her teeth and leaning forwards in her seat, she nodded her head once.
Dumbledore gave a barely noticeable flick of his wand and she was thrown into her own memories. It was a strange sensation, even stranger because she was so used to being thrust into the future – never before had she been shoved so violently into the past.
It was a rather dull memory, she supposed. There was nothing important in it, no information anybody would give a damn about. She was standing in the kitchen of the Burrow, a young girl of twelve, skinny arm wrapped around a large bowl, her free hand mixing the contents within.
"Make sure not to let it clump together, dear," Mrs Weasley was saying, a soft smile on her face as she kneaded a handful of dough by hand, teaching the young witch to cook without magic, at her request.
She'd tried cooking, but she was far, far better at baking. Something about dough and icing made more sense than sauces and spices, not to mention pastries were by far the more delicious option.
"What if the oven burns my hands?" her younger self asked worriedly, and she took in her small form, her ratty blonde hair pulled back in a loose braid, her cheeks flushed with heat from the crackling fire.
"Then I'll cast a soothing charm and you'll try again," Mrs Weasley told her with a smile, dropping a few drops of blue dye into the icing she was preparing. "You can't let yourself be so afraid of the risks that it stops you doing what you need to do," she added wisely. Young Winona nodded, understanding this to be true.
"Are the cookies ready yet?" lanky little Fred and George tripped into the kitchen, hands and clothes caked with mud from their assigned task of de-gnoming the garden. "We're hungry."
"You will wait patiently or you can have some salad instead," Mrs Weasley told them, and they gave groans of annoyance.
"Hurry up, though," George said quickly. "We wanna play a quick round of Quidditch before it gets too dark!"
The scene disappeared, a with a jolt they moved forwards in time, but only by an hour or so. The trio were sat at the table, each munching on icing-covered cookies with a glass of milk by their side.
"These are great, mum!" Fred was saying emphatically.
"It was all Winona, dear," Mrs Weasley said with a faint twinkle to her eye that made reminded Winona of the twins – she'd never have thought they'd gotten it from their mum. "One day, she'll be the one making all our desserts, just you wait and see."
George turned to look at her eagerly. "If the whole art thing doesn't work out, you should open a bakery," he told her playfully, and she laughed with a mouth full of blue icing.
"You'd think for someone so good at cooking, you'd be better at Potions," Fred added slyly, and the present-Winona watched fondly as she gasped in mock-offence, tossing a cookie so it hit him directly between the eyes, making them all roar with laughter, Mrs Weasley watching on with a fond smile.
She came back to the present with a gasp, a pressure that she hadn't realised was there suddenly lifting from her mind.
"Did you feel me inside your mind at all, Winona?" Dumbledore asked, and she blinked at him, getting rid of the image of the Burrow's kitchen from behind her eyes.
"Barely, sir," she replied, shaking her head like that might help her clear the fog that had gathered there.
"I'm going to attempt it again, this time, do not allow yourself to get swept up in the memory, but rather, focus on the pressure in your head, the weight of another inside your mind."
Nodding, Winona steeled herself as best she could, gritting her teeth and watching as the Headmaster nodded back, then flicked his wand.
This time she did as she was told, paying attention to the pressure on her brain rather than the scene flashing before her eyes. She recognised where they were; it was third year, and she was sitting by the lake with Angelina, Lee and the twins. Angelina and Lee were lazily working on their homework, while Fred and George were tossing pieces of bread into the lake, trying to rouse the Giant Squid to the surface.
They were saying something to her, and though past-Winona listened with a trilling laugh, current-Winona blocked it out, focusing on the unfamiliar weight of another in the memory with her.
"Get out!" she shouted, figuring it was as good of a place to start as any. Dumbledore's presence didn't shift.
Taking his earlier advice, she began to mentally shove the memory away behind a locked door. The thick wood slammed shut, sealing the memory away. Full of pride, although completely exhausted, Winona was grinning victoriously to herself only to be blindsided when she was thrust, without warning, into yet another memory.
This time she was at her foster parent's house. She was sat at the dinner table, toying with the food on her plate as she listened to them argue. She didn't spare the time to listen – she wouldn't have wanted to anyway – instead she had to focus on locking the memory tightly behind a door where nobody, not even her, could reach it.
It was harder this time, her strength waning until it was almost too difficult to block out the memory, too taxing to focus on the feeling of Dumbledore sifting through her mind like a man panning for gold.
Thrust back into the present, once more seated on the comfortable chair on the other side of the Headmaster's ornate desk, Dumbledore put aside his wand with a small nod. Winona's breathing was heavy and her head spun, but she calmed herself after a moment, and it was then that Dumbledore spoke.
"You've made a good start," he assured her in his soft, hoarse voice. "You accomplished more than I expected, being this our first lesson." Winona nodded, head still feeling vaguely fuzzy. She longed to curl up in bed and shut out the world. "Go get some sleep, Winona," Dumbledore said gently, a kindness in his voice. She wondered how he'd learnt Occlumency, and if it had been as exhausting for him the first time he'd tried.
Glancing over at his large grandfather clock, she was shocked to see that over an hour had passed. It had felt like minutes! Climbing to her feet, Winona hefted up her beg, the weight feeling heavier than usual on her tired muscles.
"I'll see you next Thursday, Professor," she told him in a hoarse voice. He nodded his head, long beard brushing the desktop, and she scurried from the room, desperate to sleep off the more than strenuous night.
Now that she was having 'controlled' visions at least once a week, the amount of her accidental visions had steadily declined, as though it were a force that could be successfully channelled. Still, the odd prediction slipped through.
Winona found herself having lunch, munching on slices of apple as she halfheartedly sketched in her book a few days after her lesson with Dumbledore. She felt the vision coming, but knew staving it off wouldn't be easy. She glanced around, making sure nobody was paying her any attention (most people were used to seeing her hunched over a sketchbook) before taking a deep breath and allowing herself to be submerged in the darkness.
There were flashes and muffled sounds, nothing unusual. Then one noise sounded over the rest, loud and clear and completely unmistakeable. A scythe cut through the air like a curse, whistling before it hit its target, then an encompassing silence.
Jolting back to the present with a gasp, Winona could only look down at her sketch with a sinking gut. Her thought of the sound being a scythe was proved correct as she looked down to see a stump with a massive, murderous blade sticking out of it, covered in dried blood.
She'd completely forgotten about Hagrid and his upcoming trial with Buckbeak. She realised, with something of a sour grimace, that after everything with Jeremiah, she'd just gotten distracted. She felt like a terrible person, casting a bitter glare at the back of Jeremiah's head, glowering at his pitch black hair like she might be able to scare him into staying away.
As she'd predicted, nobody had seemed to try and disturb her. Her dorm mates were all back in the common room, going over their notes for the DADA quiz they had coming up, and she knew for a fact that the twins were up in the Astronomy Tower, dropping water balloons on the students below as they often did as a way to pass the time.
Looking down at her watch, she was told she'd only been out of it for ten minutes, and knew she didn't have long to get up to Defence. Shoving the rest of her lunch into her mouth, she hurriedly climbed to her feet, throwing her bag over her shoulder and heading towards the Entrance Hall.
Despite rushing, she was still late walking into class. Everybody looked up as she noisily stumbled into the room. Looking up, she was more than relieved to see it was Lupin, and not Snape teaching the class today.
"Sorry, sir," she said immediately, casting the twins a glare as they sniggered at her misfortune rather loudly from the far side of the room.
"Miss Andrews," Professor Lupin greeted her, sounding pleasantly curious and thankfully not at all angry. Which was good because, y'know; werewolf. "Is everything alright?" he asked, eyes narrowed in something like worry. But why would he be worried about her? Did she look as tired as she felt?
"Yeah," she nodded quickly. "Yeah, sorry," she apologised again, but the Professor only gestured for her to take the empty seat beside Lee. He didn't take any points, which was good, probably because this was her first offence, and he was cool like that.
He seemed to be avoiding her – maybe now that she knew the truth about what he was, he was embarrassed. Or maybe he was just worried she was afraid of him. Either way, he didn't call on her very often in class, and he even let his gaze skip over her when he was giving a lecture. Winona couldn't help but feel a little put out, and she hoped he wouldn't give her a bad grade at the end of the year just because she knew his secret. He didn't seem the type, but as a foster kid, she'd experienced that kind of cruel behaviour in the past, amongst other things.
"As I was saying: today we'll be working on Shield Charms," Lupin began once again. Winona sunk into her chair, trying not to think about Buckbeak's looming death sentence. Class passed quickly, and before she knew it she was heading back up to Gryffindor Tower to put her things away before dinner.
She ran into Hermione in the common room. She was perched at her usual table, writing an essay at a furious pace, like with every second she wasted her grade went down a letter. Winona looked around but she couldn't see Ron or Harry anywhere, so decided that the frizzy-haired bookworm would have to do.
"Hagrid and Buckbeak are going to lose the trial," she said in lieu of a more traditional greeting.
Hermione looked up from her work sharply, almond eyes wide with surprise. "How do you know?" she asked suspiciously, which irked Winona, though she didn't let it show.
"How do you think?" she asked in a deadpan, tapping her fingers to her temple in a move that was slowly becoming something of a signature. Hermione didn't look convinced, which was insulting to say the least, but Winona knew when to pick her battles. "Look, Hagrid's going to need your support," she said seriously. "All three of you. Together."
Hermione frowned at her words. "Why can't you stop it?" she asked skeptically. "If you know what's going to happen, why don't you tell someone and make sure it doesn't?"
"Doesn't work that way," Winona replied tightly, frowning at the third year. Hermione looked displeased by the answer. "Look, the decision's already been made," she explained frustratedly, hating it just as much as Hermione did. "Any day now Hagrid will be telling you. I just thought I'd give you a heads up."
Hermione was still frowning, but Winona wasn't in the mood to put up with it, so she just climbed to her feet.
"Sorry, Winnie," Hermione said before she could leave, and Winona turned back to her with a furrowed brow. "It's just…" she trailed off, clearly not knowing what to say.
"I get it," Winona replied. She didn't.
The dorm was empty when she got up there, and she was quick to dump her bag and change from her robes before heading down to the common room and out the portrait hole, following a group of fourth years from the Tower down towards the Great Hall.
She was only a few corridors away when a hand grasped her arm and yanked her sideways into an alcove. She squeaked with surprise, whirling around to punch her captor (who she assumed was one of the twins, because who else would do such a thing?) only to come face to face with a smirking Jeremiah.
"Oh," she said rather lamely, blinking up at him stupidly.
His hands were already resting on her hips, pulling her to him none-too-gently.
"Hello," she greeted him shakily.
"Hm, you're looking particularly delicious today," he told her slowly, leaning in and pressing his face into her neck, inhaling in a way that sent a chill down her spine. She couldn't figure out whether it was a good tingle or a bad one.
She forced a chuckle, still feeling oddly numb from her earlier vision and the tense conversation with Hermione. "Come on, if we don't get to the Hall soon, all the cheesy potatoes will be gone," she said as lightly as she could, but Jeremiah only inhaled her again, his lips now brushing her pulse point. This time she decided the resulting chills were definitely good ones.
"I was thinking we could stay here," he told her lowly, his voice really more of a growl. Her skin prickled and her breath caught in her throat when he gently began to suck on her neck. "Isn't that a better idea?" he murmured in a way that might have been mistaken for innocence.
Winona was helpless to do anything more than hum in agreement. The way he was making her feel was too addicting to give up, even for dinner.
His hands slid down to her arse, and he gripped her tightly before moving down to her thighs, hoisting her up and shoving her recklessly against the stone wall. He pressed into her, and she could do nothing but gasp as he nibbled her sensitive skin.
Quickly, almost like there was a time limit, his lips travelled up to her chin, then finally latched onto hers with gusto. Winona moaned softly as his tongue licked at the seam of her lips.
It was a long few minutes before they broke for air, Winona panting rather loudly as she tried to control her breathing. "We shouldn't be doing this," she murmured weakly as Jeremiah ducked in to nibble along the curve of her jaw.
"And yet…here we are," he muttered against her peachy skin, and she could feel more than see the smirk sitting at his sinful lips. He rocked into her again, and she keened obviously, lost in the way he made her feel. She felt ridiculously naughty, necking in a hidden alcove of the castle with someone who was, for all intents and purposes, forbidden. "It's pretty hot though, wouldn't you say?" Jeremiah said almost smugly as he rolled against her once more, making her smother another whimper in his shoulder.
"Yeah," she agreed helplessly, arms wound around his wiry shoulders for leverage. "We should stop though," she said, desperately trying to clear the lustful fog hovering in her brain.
"Why?" he argued, once more moulding their lips together, making conversation impossible for another long, blissful, drawn out minute.
"Because…of dinner," she muttered once she had her mouth free, skin prickling as they pressed against one another. Her body had never felt so good, never felt so alive. The only thing counteracting her bliss was the heavy feeling in her gut, as though she were committing some unspeakable sin. However, compared to the way she could feel him rocking against her, it was relatively easy to ignore.
The guilt she could deal with later, right now she just wanted to lose herself in sensation.
"I want you," Jeremiah said against her lips, pressing the hard ridge of himself against her core, and without thinking her nails scraped down his back, making him jerk her closer. The words both excited and terrified her. Did that mean what she thought it meant? Was he asking for what it sounded like?
Her initial instinct was to say no, and stop things before they could take them further. But then he kissed her again and her brain went quiet, lost in the drag of wet lips against hers.
She'd never given much thought to losing her virginity, but one thing had always seemed to baffle her. It was a common conception that it had to be special and meaningful, but what did it matter in the end? Sex was just sex, and sure, it felt great (if her encounters with Jeremiah thus far were any indication), but did it really matter where it happened, or who it was with?
Besides, the last thing she wanted to do was disappoint him, and clearly he wanted it as bad as she did. What could it hurt? Everyone had to do it at some point, didn't they?
However, the quiet growling of her gut made her pull away, despite the furious aching at her core. "Not now," she whispered to him, sighing at the feeling of his fingers roughly digging into the soft flesh of her inner thighs. "But soon," she assured him, feeling a wave of lustful excitement in her gut at the idea.
Jeremiah growled, not in frustration, but rather in desire, like her simply saying the words was the biggest turn on he'd ever experienced. It made her feel powerful in a way she hadn't expected.
"Good," he told her, moving in for one more bruising kiss, rocking against her once more in an action that almost seemed like a promise, then pulling away and running his hands down his robes, straightening them to erase the proof of their meeting. "I'll be seeing you," he said, his voice like gravel.
"Yeah," she agreed, feeling herself throb in a way she was only just beginning to understand, and he smirked deviously before leaving the alcove.
She knew the drill by now – she had to wait a few minutes so nobody would suspect anything – and exhaustedly leant her weight against the stone wall that she'd just been so deliciously pressed against. Her heart was racing in her chest, and she placed a hand over the beating organ like that might help calm its pace.
What was she doing? Was it worth it, in the end? Jeremiah was bad news, this much was certain. But he made her feel as incredible as he did dirty.
Once she was sure it was safe, she stepped from the alcove, relieved to find the corridor completely devoid of life. Running her hands down her soft woollen jumper, she pulled up the sleeve from where it had been pushed off her shoulder. She ran her fingers through her hair a few times, then swallowed and turned, heading for the Great Hall.
The tables were full when she entered, probably the last to arrive in the whole school, everyone halfway through dinner. She cast an inconspicuous glance over at the end of the Slytherin table, where Jeremiah was smirking at Flint, who was clearly making a less-than-kind comment about a younger student, from the way the first year beside him was looking.
"There you are!" George exclaimed when she came to a stop at their usual spot.
She wasn't thinking and began to squeeze her way between Fred and Angelina, only to realised with an awkward huff that they were holding hands. Angelina shot her a light glare, clearly telling her not to interrupt, so she wiggled into place on Fred's other side, between him and Lee, who was talking animatedly with a bright-eyed Wood about Quidditch.
"Where were you?" George demanded. "We thought you might've fallen off the Astronomy Tower, trying to get a better look at the mountains for shading!"
"Ha ha," she replied sarcastically, helping herself to the dwindling plate of roast beef before it disappeared for the evening.
"You okay, Winnie?" Alicia asked from opposite her, where she was perched between George and Katie. "You look kind of flushed."
The innocent comment only made Winona turn a deeper red. "Do I?" she asked lamely, pressing the backs of her hands to her flaming hot cheeks. "How odd," she said, swallowing again and telling herself to calm down before pouring herself some water, hoping it would cool off her still-boiling blood.
"Are you sure you're okay?" Fred asked quietly from her left, and she turned to look at him, surprised he'd been paying attention. She'd assumed he'd been too involved whispering sweet nothings to Angelina to even notice she'd arrived.
"Right as rain," she lied. "And I just got caught up sketching," she added, the most believable lie she could think of.
The others looked convinced, exchanging amused snorts and rolls of their eyes, but Fred continued to stare, opening his mouth to speak, making Winona nervous. He knew her the best, and if anyone was going to see through her, it was of course going to be him.
He was prevented from talking when Angelina tugged at their joined hands. His attention snapped back to her immediately, leaving Winona feeling cold, the fire in her blood abruptly snuffed.
She was distracted all throughout the next day. It was a Hogsmeade visit, and she travelled down to the Wizarding village in a small group consisting of George, Alicia and Katie. It was by unspoken agreement that Fred and Angelina had wandered down on their own, talking to one another quietly, far, far ahead of the rest of their usual group.
Alicia and Katie seemed more than eager to gossip about their brewing romance, but George kept making lewd jokes in a desperate attempt to stop them. Winona couldn't have possibly been any less interested, her head swirling with thoughts of Jeremiah and his stupid smirk and strong arms wrapped tightly around her waist.
"Zonko's or Broomsticks?" George asked her cheerfully. She turned to look at him, realising he had dropped behind with her, leaving the girls to giggle about the way Fred and Angelina were holding hands and 'staring into one another's eyes'. Winona had to swallow back a retch.
"Is there an option that gets me firewhiskey?" she asked him dryly.
"Win, it's ten o'clock in the morning."
"Guess it's just one of those days," she murmured back, deciding not to mention how the small hour of sleep she'd received the night before had her internal body clock all over the place. Jeremiah was driving her crazy, he dominated her thoughts when he wasn't even there.
"Settle for some butterbeer?" George suggested, and she looped her arm through his, letting him lead her towards the Three Broomsticks. She realised that, in the haze of activity her mind had been consumed by, she'd forgotten about George, feeling suddenly guilty. She rested her head on his shoulder as they walked, soaking in the feeling of spending time with the one person in the whole world whose relationship with her wasn't complicated.
They got settled in a booth at the back and ordered two drinks, sitting back and chatting aimlessly while they sipped their butterbeers.
"Was thinking of asking Alicia out," George said a few minutes in, voice quiet as he cast a glance over his shoulder, like he were expecting someone to be trying to listen in. Winona couldn't have stopped the groan from escaping if she'd wanted to, dread filling her gut. "What?" George was perplexed by the violent reaction.
"Fred's already dating Ange," she complained around a childish pout. "If you date Alicia, that'll just make me the fifth wheel. Nobody wants to be the fifth wheel. Please don't make me the fifth wheel, George."
He rolled his eyes in exasperation. "You could date Lee," he suggested slyly.
She pretended to gag. "I'd rather saw off my tongue with a butter knife."
George grinned. "Then Katie?"
"She's got a thing for that Matthews guy in Ravenclaw," she said, just as flatly. "Besides, no matter how convenient it would be, I don't swing that way," she reminded him, and he wiped at the froth around his mouth before grinning at her cheekily.
"How do you know if you've never even tried?" he teased.
"Go play Tonsil Quidditch with Lee, then we'll talk," she responded blandly, and he laughed.
"We need to get you a bloke."
Thoughts flying to Jeremiah, she took another sip to stave off her blush. "I'm good, thanks," she said, and he sniggered. "I think we need to get you a bird," she added playfully, and George rolled his eyes, leaning back in the booth as he sipped his butterbeer.
"Well, I've already told you about Alicia."
"Yeah, but do you actually like her like that?" she asked knowingly, seeing through him like glass. Fred might have known her best, but she and George had a special relationship, too.
He paused, brow furrowing as he thought, like that angle wasn't something he'd considered. "Well, I dunno," he told her, and Winona could only roll her eyes as she traced a finger around the rim of her butterbeer tankard. "I mean, she's nice…and funny…and a great flyer…"
"George, I'm all those things," she told him.
He grimaced, the mere thought of her in that way repulsing him. She wasn't offended, it was the same way for her, so she just sniggered, kicking him none-too gently in the shin from below the table.
"You've gotta give better reasons than that, Romeo," she said firmly. He was confused by the Muggle reference, but he got the basic gist of what she was saying. "What about that Keeper you thought was hot?" she asked. "Miranda Marshall?"
George immediately adopted a dazed expression, and she smirked.
"That is the reaction you need to have before asking a girl out," she said, and he shook his head to snap himself out of it, before rolling his eyes at her. "You should never consider getting with a girl just because she's convenient, Georgie."
"Yeah, yeah," he said with the sigh of a troubled man, but she knew it wasn't more than a farce. His eyes suddenly grew wide, staring at something behind her. "Speak of Merlin, and he shall appear…" he trailed off. She turned to see Miranda Marshall walking into the inn, laughing at something her friend had just said. "Did you plan that?" George hissed at her across the table.
Winona rolled her eyes. "No, George, I didn't plan it," she told him slowly, like she were explaining it to a child. "But, you've gotta admit, my subconscious is good."
"Hey, George!" the Ravenclaw Keeper had approached, a smile on her pretty face as she called out to the wide-eyed twin. "Winona, right?" she added when George said nothing. Winona quickly nodded her head.
"Why don't you and your friend take my seat?" she suggested, already climbing to her feet.
"No, no!" Miranda said with a worried frown. "I couldn't-"
"It's fine," Winona assured her quickly. "I was on my way to buy some more Sugar Quills, anyway."
"If you're sure..."
"Really," she nodded, draining the last of her butterbeer and gesturing for the pair to sit. "George would love a chance to talk with you," she said. George shot her daggers with his eyes, and Winona smirked deviously. Miranda and her friend exchanged quiet giggles. "I'll see you later, Georgie," she added, ruffling her best mate's hair before turning and heading from the Three Broomsticks without looking back.
Either George would now worship the ground she walked on, or prank her so viciously she'd be smelling of rotten eggs for days. Either way, she still considered it a win.
"There you are," said a familiar voice. Winona turned with a gasp to see Jeremiah again, the Slytherin leaning against the wall of the Hogsmeade Post Office, a smirk on his face, skin slightly red from the still-chilly weather.
"Here I am," she agreed, trying not to sound as breathless as she felt. She looked left then right, glad nobody was around to witness the cordial exchange from two people meant to curse one another on sight.
"I thought we could go for a walk," he suggested, and, thoroughly confused, Winona could do no more than agree.
He didn't reach out to grab her hand, as she kind of secretly hoped he would. His arms remained crossed over his chest as they moved through the slushy snow towards the end of the village, where the Hog's Head stood in all its creepy, decaying glory.
"This is where we're going?" she asked, one eyebrow cocked as she eyed the building suspiciously. She and the twins had been inside loads of times. Although, more often than not it was so they could discuss schemes that weren't to be overheard or bribe some firewhisky off old Aberforth.
Clearly Jeremiah didn't want to be seen with her, a fact which she had expected, but still hurt nonetheless.
He held open the door for her, which she thought was sweet, but the moment was ruined when he glanced over her shoulder, checking for witnesses.
"Fancy a butterbeer, then?" she murmured, stepping further into the slightly-less cold Inn, rubbing her palms together and wishing she hadn't been stupid enough to forget her gloves.
"Something like that," he agreed as he followed after her.
"Are you sure it's wise?" she asked, she herself glancing over her shoulder, scanning the pub for onlookers.
"Trust me, we won't be seen," he assured her lowly, and something about the rumble to his voice made a shiver run down her spine. She felt wary, a sort of cautious alertness running through her system.
Jeremiah headed for the bar, and she found Aberforth wasn't the man behind it, instead his single employee, a Wizard they simply referred to as 'Bob' was standing there, a glazed, bored look to his eyes as he blindly rubbed at a cloudy glass with a damp, stained rag.
"Thank you," Jeremiah said casually, and though Winona didn't understand, 'Bob' seemed to. He looked at him for one drawn out moment before pulling out a small key and handing it off to the fifth-year with a knowing nod. His creepy, beady eyes slid over Winona's form, and she felt uncomfortable, as though she wasn't wearing a thick woollen coat and her baggiest, most paint-smudged jeans. Surely she didn't look very appealing, but Bob seemed to approve, shooting Jeremiah a sly sort of look that thankfully went completely ignored.
Finally, to her relief, he reached down and grasped her hand. He was wearing gloves, so there was no skin-on-skin contact, but her stomach fluttered just the same.
Confused and still wary, Winona allowed him to lead her up a small flight of stairs and down a dank little corridor. "What're we doing?" she asked him in a whisper, holding on tight to his hand, afraid if she relaxed her grip he might let go.
"Getting some privacy," he told her, slipping the key into the lock and pushing open the rickety old door. He gestured for her to go inside first, and with her heart slamming almost painfully against her ribs she complied, stepping inside the small room with a narrowed, cautious gaze.
It was a small room, obviously one the Inn provided as lodging. It had nothing but a tiny table below a small, mouldy windowsill, and a single, unsafe looking bed sitting in the far corner, covered in dark green bedding that thankfully looked like it had at least been recently washed.
She knew now what was happening, and all she could ask herself was, was she ready? Was this something she wanted?
She knew that the night before she'd been all talk, thundering along bravely like any Gryffindor would, but now she was faced with a dilemma; now, it was all terrifyingly real. She knew this was what he wanted, and who knew what would happen if she didn't agree? She didn't think he would hurt her – not physically at least. All she knew was that the last time she had kissed him couldn't be the last time she ever kissed him.
What if nobody ever made her feel this way again? Then where would she be left? A thirty-year old virgin with no prospects and no love?
Sure, her thoughts were spiralling, but she had to admit, her inner monologue made some damn good points.
"Are you okay?" Jeremiah asked, and in the silence of the room, she could hear the faint sound of the lock clicking into place.
Swallowing, she turned, forcing a brave expression onto her face. "Fine," she said, smiling in a way she really hoped was sultry.
The Slytherin smirked broadly, making quick work of his thick coat, shedding it to the floor then doing the same to his gloves, before looking at her coyly. Swallowing again, she moved before she could talk herself out of it, grasping the bottom of her jumper and pulling it over her head, leaving her in a simple white, paint-stained top, the sleeves dropping down over her hands.
Jeremiah's smirk widened, the lustful spark in his eye taking her breath away. She stared back, remaining perfectly still, watching as he approached her. Once he reached her, he grasped the hem of her shirt, slowly tugging it up to the bottom of her ribs, exposing her flat, milky stomach.
His fingers gently trailed over her belly and her breath caught in her throat, gasping at the feeling of his fingertips on her skin. "How'd you get a room, anyhow?" she asked breathlessly, eyes fluttering shut as he ducked in, pressing his lips to the hollow of her throat. "I thought students couldn't hire them."
"When you're a Nott, the rules usually don't apply," he replied smugly, looking back up before ducking in with all the suave of a seasoned lover, slamming his lips onto hers. She gasped into his mouth, his tongue immediately pressing against her own.
She was okay, she told herself; kissing, she could handle.
But then he started to tug at her shirt, pulling the hem up higher and higher, until it was bunched at her throat. Pulling back, he impatiently yanked it over her head, and her sloppy ponytail only got looser.
Breathing as steadily as she could to keep herself calm, she forced herself not to cover her chest as she so desperately wanted to, which was encased in an unexciting, plain grey, cotton bra. The hunger in his eyes didn't lessen, and without warning he swooped back in, kissing her firmly, one hand coming up to press at her covered chest.
She gasped, eyes open wide as he caressed her through her bra. "Don't go shy on me now, Lion," he said it against her lips so tenderly that her heart stuttered, and though the butterflies in her gut didn't go away, they became more pleasant, pushing her for more contact.
"I'm good, Snake," she replied breathlessly, and he smirked down at her again before pushing her back towards the simple, rickety old bed, which creaked loudly under their weight as they sank down onto the scratchy sheets.
Jeremiah hovered over her, eyes on her breasts as her chest heaved from the kissing. Not in the mood to stop, feeling like she just wanted to get started, she impatiently grasped at his shirt, forcefully trying to yank it up over his torso. He chuckled, the sound deep and rough, and another shiver rocked her body.
He was muscled, though lacking the abs that the other girls in her dorm seemed to think all the hottest guys had. He was, if anything, sturdy and built, and she would have been nervous was she not used to having him wrapped around her – although perhaps not quite so intimately.
She ran her fingers up and down his torso, feeling the skin tighten under her touch. It was strange, he didn't seem as affected by her and she was by him, but she figured maybe that was just how sex was, so she thought nothing of it. Still, determined to please, she pushed herself closer and began to wetly kiss down his chest. His hand curled in her hair and he sighed, but didn't shiver as she might have. He seemed to enjoy it, though, if the bulge in his pants was anything to judge by.
He had enough of that soon enough, pushing her gently back down onto the bed and returning the favour, running his mouth down the swell of her chest, at one point gently biting down on her smooth flesh.
Winona sighed, trying not to think too much and instead just lose herself in the sensation. Acting on instinct and things she'd seen in movies, she wrapped her legs around his waist, unintentionally pressing them together in the best possible place, making her gasp again at the contact.
He rocked into her deliciously, and suddenly it wasn't so hard not to think, instead her mind was filled with touch, touch, touch, and she wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders to scratch at his back.
She was so focused on the friction between her legs that she didn't even realise her bra was being removed until she felt his hands on her unclothed breasts. Gasping, she pressed into him, stomach leaping as he gently pinched at her nipples, creating a sensation she'd never before experienced.
He kissed her again, and she finally understood what it meant to be so helplessly addicted to something that was dangerous for you.
When he broke away she was panting loudly, trying not to keen aloud as he began to kiss a path down her stomach, stopping gently at her bellybutton before heading to the zipper of her jeans.
The feeling of the zipper sliding down the teeth made her whimper, but he didn't stop until he was tugging the ugly old jeans off her legs. She gave a relieved sigh at the fact that she'd shaved her legs the day before, leaving them smooth and silky, which Jeremiah seemed to appreciate as he ran his hands from the tops of her thighs to the ridge of her ankle.
Her underwear were as unimpressive as her bra, simple and nude in colour, but she didn't have the time to care as she suddenly whimpered again when he placed his mouth over the damp spot growing there, throwing her head back at the feeling.
She felt awkward and uncomfortable with him down there, and the feeling only increased when his long fingers grasped the top of the underwear, slowly but surely peeling them down off her legs. She'd never been completely naked in front of anyone before, much less a boy, and her entire body flushed a soft pink.
Jeremiah didn't seem to be bothered by her apparent discomfort and swooped in like some kind of sex-god, crawling back up to her top and kissing her again, making her moan when his covered bulge pressed into her bare, aching sex.
"You've never done this before?" Jeremiah asked against her mouth, and, unable to form a coherent reply, Winona could only shake her head and give a nervous, trembling exhale. "I'll go slow," he assured her, and if she found it strange that he didn't ask if she was 'sure', she didn't have time to think on it, instead distracted by the way he was pulling off his trousers, his underwear coming with him.
He was larger than she'd expected, but again, there was no time to process anything, everything was kind of a blur as he made his way back up to her.
"Shouldn't we...shouldn't we use a condom or something?" she asked him breathlessly, trembling under his touch.
"A what?" the wizard was confusedly.
"So I don't get pregnant," she clarified, and she could have sworn she saw him roll his eyes before he leaned over and fetched his wand, aiming it at her stomach and muttering something. She felt a warm sort of glow in her abdomen but it faded quickly, and he was already kissing her again, successfully distracting her.
All she knew was that sex wasn't very pleasant. At least, it didn't seem that way as he pressed inside her, her head thrown back in pain as he worked his way into her. He was clearly practised, however, rubbing her clit in little circles, making a sensation like sparks travel along her nerves and spread throughout her body.
Jeremiah huffed once he was all the way inside, and Winona felt strange, never having felt so full before. It wasn't so bad, she decided as the Slytherin kissed her throat wetly. Then he started to move. It wasn't extremely painful, but it wasn't particularly wonderful either – the only pleasure she got was from him rubbing her clit, making her moan despite how uncomfortable it all was.
She felt connected to him in a way she hadn't before, and wrapped herself further around him, closing her eyes and focusing on the feelings she was experiencing, losing herself in this strange but nice sort of link that they now shared.
Soon, though she wasn't sure how long had passed, she began to get used to it, and so did her body. It stopped burning the wetter she became, and soon the slide of skin on skin began to make her moan. She gripped onto him tighter, fingernails dragging down his smooth back, causing him to rut against her with renewed vigour.
He made no noise, while she whimpered aloud, clutching at him like she was trying to find leverage, feeling him thrust within her powerfully, stretching her, making her ache in a terrible but sublime sort of way.
This was something she could see herself becoming addicted to.
As he moved faster, so did his fingers on her clit, and he bent his head to suck at one of her nipples, which she would have thought odd had it not felt so superbly good. Something within her was climbing, growing higher and higher with every thrust, and her head tossed back against the lumpy pillow, lost in the ecstasy of the whole experience.
"Please, Jeremiah," she said without knowing why, but he seemed to know what she was asking for and rubbed harder.
Everything kind of faded away and exploded at the same time. She lost count of the moments that passed, but it was like electric pulses surging through her body. She moaned his name again, tightening her hold on him like without him she might fly away. Jeremiah reached his peak silently, but she couldn't find reason to focus, too blissed out by her own end, struggling to catch her breath once the whole thing was over, both coming down from their spectacular highs.
Jeremiah rolled off her, just barely fitting beside her on the small, supplied bed. They were quiet, both breathing deeply as they recovered. Winona reached up to brush her damp, sweaty hair from her face, and she turned to look at the Slytherin, then gently burrowed into his side, not wanting the contact to end so soon.
His next move surprised her, instead of curling back into her as she'd stupidly expected, he sat up, already reaching for his pants.
"That was pretty good," he told her like it was some kind of compliment, smirking as he climbed to his feet, beginning to pull on his clothes. Not wanting to feel exposed while he wasn't, she quickly gathered her own underwear and jeans, pulling them on hurriedly, something like guilt stabbing at her insides. "For a Gryffindor, at least," he added offhandedly.
She was shaking, even though she'd long since come down from her high. She pulled on her bra quickly, relieved to be mostly covered again.
"Same time next Hogsmeade visit," he murmured, less of a question and more of a statement. She blinked, pulling on her undershirt then gladly dressing in her thick, warm jumper. The less skin exposed, the more comfortable she felt. "Maybe we'll find time again before then, even," he added casually.
"You want to do this again?" she asked, voice embarrassingly soft. She cleared her throat and told herself to get it together.
"Yeah," he said with a shrug, as though he kind of did, but in the end it really made no difference to him.
Still, she'd take what she could get. "Good," she sighed, her muscles sore as she ran her fingers through her hair, tugging it from its now-sloppy ponytail and letting it fall lifelessly over her shoulders. "I do too," she added, just in case he wasn't sure. She watched him hopefully, but he merely adjusted his collar then turned for the door, yanking it open and waving her through.
Feeling kind of shellshocked, not convinced this wasn't all some kind of realistic, twisted dream, Winona could only follow him back down the small stairs and into the pub. The guy behind the counter was smirking widely, eyeing her closely, like he was picturing whatever Jeremiah had just gotten the privilege of seeing for himself.
"See ya, Lion," Jeremiah said lightly when they reached the door, gesturing for her to go first.
"See ya, Snake," she replied, but the usual teasing was gone from her voice, replaced instead by numb confusion.
The wind was far colder when she stepped outside, and she saw that it was getting late in the day. Knowing it would be a mistake to be out after dark – Dementors were now roaming the streets during the night, looking for Black – she hurried along, feeling an ache between her legs that she'd never experienced before.
She didn't understand what had happened, couldn't comprehend what she'd just done. She felt different, somehow; hollow. Did everyone feel like that after their first time?
She didn't bother sweeping the twins' usual haunts, knowing they were both more than likely back at the castle already. She spied Lee and a cute Hufflepuff standing by the Three Broomsticks, but decided not to bother them, instead tucking her bare hands into her pockets and hurrying on up to the great, beautiful castle.
The common room was only half full when she entered, most people beginning to filter down to the Great Hall for dinner. She intended to make a beeline for the dorms, but heard someone call her name and knew she wouldn't be able to escape unnoticed.
"We looked for you all day!" Alicia complained when she came to a stop by the couch she and the others had claimed.
"Thought you might have gotten lost!" Katie added with a laugh.
"Here I am," she told them dully, hands still shoved deep within the warmth of her pockets.
"Are you okay, Winnie?" Angelina was the one to ask, and finally the twins looked up from where they'd been hunched over a piece of parchment, shooting her looks of matching concern.
"Fine," she responded as honestly as she could, but her voice came out as a croak. Nobody looked convinced.
"You look...different," Angelina said, eyes narrowed in something that wasn't quite suspicion, but instead closer to perturbation.
"Do I?" she asked, blinking her eyes and swallowing around a too-thick throat.
"She's right," Fred agreed suddenly, his piercing blue eyes locked onto her, flickering over her hunched form like he might find what was wrong tattooed on her skin. "Something's changed."
"I'm fine," Winona said again, forcing her lips into something of a smile.
"Well, we were just about to head down to dinner," George spoke up, still watching her, but looking far less suspicious than his twin. "You coming?"
"I really need to shower," she replied quickly, glad she could answer this question with complete and total honesty. "I'll meet you guys there."
"You're sure?" Katie asked, already climbing to her feet.
"Positive," she assured her, forming another weak sort of smile before nodding and turning, escaping up the stairs and out of Fred's familiar, piercing gaze, trying not to hate herself as much as she wanted to.
A/N: So, I know some of you are going to be very upset about how this chapter turned out; but this has always been the plan. I haven't gone into detail about her childhood yet, but she grew up isolated and abused. She's very damaged, and although she gets love and friendship from her friends, when it comes to romantic love, she's only ever had bad, unhealthy examples. Nobody was around to teach her right from wrong. As far as she knows, sex is love – there's no difference.
For Winona's character to go through the journey of growth that I'm planning, she had to hit this level…and it might not be completely over just yet. Honestly, it's going to get worse before it gets better. But it will get better, I promise.
Thanks so much to Momochan77 for their review. It made me very, very happy, and I'm so glad you like my story and my writing. Hope you enjoyed this one, too!