It's just my bad luck that Daphne decided that the perfect person for her new campaign would be bloody Oliver Wood. From the way he smirked at me at The Incendio, I have a feeling that he somehow schemed his way into this whole deal, but his reasons for doing so are still unclear to me. We haven't exactly parted on good terms.
And even though I hate him for what he said, for what he suggested, and I hate myself for fucking him while knowing the type of person he is, I still can't escape the way I feel when I close my eyes and see him going down on me, my thighs instinctively closing together, aching for friction. He has snaked his way into my brain, my life, and, as if by some strange fortune, the universe seems intent on pushing us towards one another.
The cat follows me around the flat while I pack a bag, occasionally meowing, as if he knows I'm leaving. When I'm finished packing he lazily climbs on top of my now closed bag and refuses to move, glaring at me. Damn cat.
"Come on," I mutter, nodding towards the door but he stays still. I roll my eyes and lean down, picking him up. I walk up to Rhys' flat for the second time in two days and knock, waiting again for his wards to check me and hoping he's home.
Rhys opens the door shirtless and I catch sight of a fit blonde lounging on his sofa. She's stunningly beautiful, awfully similar to Daphne but her face is blank, as if there's nothing there. A joint dangles from her fingertips. Rhys smirks, murmurs something in Welsh to the woman, and pulls the door closed behind him, stepping out onto the landing.
"What's up? Need another potion?"
Shaking my head, I push the cat into his arms, startling him. "I'm going to Berlin for a few days and you have to take care of the cat."
"I have to?" he asks, raising his scarred eyebrow.
I shrug. "It's a communal cat. Thanks," I say and start walking back to my own flat. Rhys just stands there, vaguely shocked, the cat settling into his arms and purring loudly.
"But –"
"Sorry, I'm running late!" I yell out and basically run into my flat, waving my wand and locking the door behind me.
I take out Daphne's letter from the depths of my bag and turn over the green envelope, letting the skeleton key fall out. It's a portkey and a hotel room key in one. I briefly wonder how Daphne managed to procure a portkey that's not one of the Ministry mandated ones, and especially for another country, but I quickly decide it's probably best not to think or know about it. I clutch both my bags tightly, cast a final look around the flat and take the key. When I touch it, the key starts to glow and immediately, I feel the unpleasant pull of the portkey.
Moments later, I find myself in Hexenheim, the wizarding district of Berlin, settled in Mitte, the Spree River running through it. The mostly overcast sky is not much different than the one I left behind in London, though the evening is distinctly colder. And even in the wizarding part of Berlin, the Fernsehturm, one of the city's most prominent symbols, is visible.
I pull my coat more tightly around myself, taking in the sight. I've been in Hexenheim before, but there's always something new happening, a new vendor or a street musician, a street food stall or some magical creature skulking on the cobbled streets. Currently, there is a group of teen wizards performing a rap song in front of a small crowd.
I don't have much time to look around because across the street is Daphne, waving me over. Behind her, the ornate, dark sandstone facade of The Sehnsucht looms, numerous enchanted lights illuminating the building.
"Finally!" Daphne says, grabbing me by the arm and ushering me inside the hotel, as if she'd been waiting for ages, when in reality I'd sent her a letter earlier to tell her when I was coming. But, she's never been particularly known for her patience.
"Why the rush?" I ask, adjusting my bag and following her to a magical elevator, ignoring the people staring at us in the lobby.
Daphne presses the up button and we wait. "Felix doesn't have much time, he just squeezed us in before he goes off to Japan. And, well, your partner has a tricky schedule." I know she's waiting for me to ask who it is, and it would be strange not to. I don't want her to know I've fucked Wood and accidentally got her letter at the same place as him.
"And who is he? You're being very coy about this mystery person," I say as we enter the gilded elevator, going up to the topmost floor.
Daphne smirks and hums, tapping her finger on my arm. "Oh, it's just Oliver Wood, Europe's most sought-after Quidditch player," she says nonchalantly, as if it's not a big deal. "I'm not sure you've met him, but he was at my party the day before yesterday. And you've definitely made an impression on people during the show, Felix practically begged me to let him do the photoshoot for the new lookbook, and Oliver… I don't know how he even found out there was going to be a shoot, but his manager said they were very interested in collaborating. Who would pass him up, really? Literally everyone is crazy about Wood!" She winks at me with a huge grin and I have a feeling she definitely knows there's something strange about all this. Daphne isn't stupid. But neither am I, so I continue pretending I'm as puzzled by Wood's sudden interest as she is.
The room she's gotten for me is extravagant, the plush grey carpet offset by the tall panelled walls, painted in fragrant, soft green, reminiscent of an enchanted forest. The effect is only highlighted by the designer lamps, their branch-like stands of dark wood, the soft glow they emit bathes the room in dim, sultry light. That's one of the perks of working for Daphne. She's generous, as long as you do as she says.
Daphne throws a look at her wristwatch while I dump my stuff and look out of the window at the bustling Hexenheim. It's a strange mismatch of preserved medieval buildings, Art Nouveau architecture, and the harsh-looking, modernist concrete buildings, places where the Muggle and Wizarding world fuse into something quite unique to Berlin and the city's culture.
"We should go," Daphne says, checking something in a small black book. "Oliver is already at Felix's studio, the thing is in one of those old power plants, near Morgenstern, where I'm taking you all out after the shoot. My treat," she says with a wicked grin and I know why. Morgenstern is a nightclub, famous for its superb music, drugs running freely, the darkrooms available to all, and a place ridiculously hard to get into. But, of course, for all I know the club is owned by her father. She takes my arm and apparates us to the studio.
There's an entire army of Daphne's stylists surrounding me, waving their wands, muttering spells, apparently making me look even more beautiful than I already am (their words). I met Felix briefly when Daphne and I apparated to his studio, a handsome tall man with fashionable hair slicked back, streaked with grey, his face covered in tattoos. You would have a hard time telling whether he was a photographer or a bouncer. Wood was nowhere to be seen, presumably going through the same process as I.
Daphne hovers on the edge of my vision, talking with one of the stylists, then pointing her wand at something and a white clothes cover appears before her. She unzips it and turns towards me, obscuring it from view, licking her lips as she looks me over with a critical eye. Daphne nods to the stylists, sending them away and it's just the two of us left. I stand up from the comfortable leather chair and walk over, feeling slightly cold in just a silky robe and slippers.
Displayed inside the cover is not something one could call clothes. I raise an eyebrow at Daphne. "Lingerie?" She shrugs and laughs.
"Sex sells, darling. And you get to keep it all. Now get dressed and get into the studio, it's just through the door over there."
Daphne leaves me alone in the cold room and I take off my robe, standing naked in front of all the mirrors, considering the lingerie before me. I carefully put on the black thong with a transparent mesh, charmed so the lace design moves, slowly, mesmerisingly so, revealing and obscuring the skin underneath. The bra matches it and when I look at myself in the mirror, it's as if I'm wearing lacy snakes and roses intertwining with one another around my breasts and hips, somehow revealing more than they're obscuring. The look is paired with dark thigh highs and staggeringly tall black heels.
With a smirk, I wrap the previously discarded robe around me and open the door Daphne pointed out. A low beat is playing and the people are talking amongst themselves inside the stark studio, all exposed concrete walls and black steel, but when I enter, they stop talking and I can feel all of their eyes on me. The only ones I'm interested in are looking straight into my own, Wood's gaze igniting a fire inside me. He's wearing one of Daphne's fitted black suits, looking sharp and fit as hell. But, I try to keep my cool and simply raise a challenging eyebrow at him.
"Bloody hell," he says and Daphne laughs, waving me over. She's standing with Felix and Wood, a little apart from the rest of the crew. Felix seems to be at a loss for words when I come over.
"Mr Rath," I say, shaking his hand, and the man shakes himself out of a daze with a grin.
"I'm sorry, but you're quite… Stunning."
Daphne's smile grows wider at his words and she bends her head slightly, looking from me to Wood. "Freya, this is Oliver Wood."
I don't offer to shake his hand, and he merely gives me a wolfish grin before muttering something to Daphne that I don't hear. Felix lets the stylists go, waving them off, turning towards us. He says a couple of spells in German, the music getting slightly louder, the rhythm somehow oozing sex, and the lights get dimmer, except for the place in the studio where Felix wants us. It's a familiar setting, others telling me what to do, and both Wood and I follow his direction, Daphne quietly observing from the shadows.
The first couple of photos are standard, the two of us posing together, though not touching, but then, somehow suddenly even though I've stood there and listened to Felix give the word, one of Wood's hands is brushing my ribs, the other around my neck and it feels as if the flames are licking my skin. As his fingers press against the soft flesh of my neck, thumb rubbing against my artery, Wood leans down, his lips close to my ear, his hand trailing down as Felix takes what seem to be thousands of photos, my legs almost obscenely spread out, and when I feel his calloused fingers slipping just under the lace waistband, my breath catches in my throat, his fingers now brushing over my crimson red lips as we stare off into the camera.
And I know that this is the picture Daphne wants of the two of us, suggestive, fuckable, the clothes almost secondary to her brand of 'fuck, yes'.
Wood's grip tightens slightly around my throat and it only makes me feel more turned on. "You're playing with me," I whisper, keeping my face neutral.
"Of course I am," he murmurs, "but you fucking love it, don't you? I'm bad, but you're worse."
I want to move closer, to bite his attractive lips curled into a smirk, to taste the iron of blood, leave a mark on him. But Felix moves us around once more, the moment passes and I fade again into impassive professionality, left unsatisfied, my body burning for more. More of Wood, more of this incredible fire.
After hours of changing poses, of Felix and Daphne scrutinising us, all of us drinking champagne that Daphne brought, they finally decide that we're done. I walk back to the room where I changed, gathering my stuff, ready to slip away, to find some German witch or wizard to fuck, to get it out of my system and get away from the damn fuckboy, but Daphne enters the room with a raised eyebrow. "I told you we're going out," she says, twirling her wand and summoning another clothes cover. "Finn is waiting for us at Morgenstern."
The clothes cover opens with another wave of her wand and she levitates the short black dress towards me. "Put it on," Daphne says, eyeing me with undeniable hunger. The shoot and the drinks obviously had an effect on her. "It's a gift."
I smirk, never one to refuse gifts, and put on the dress, skin-tight and an obvious pair to the lingerie I modelled, parts of it lace, snakes and floral designs enveloping my body. Daphne licks her lips.
Morgenstern is a club situated close to Felix's studio, in one of the abandoned industrial buildings. Entering through the door is like being assaulted by loud electronic music seemingly, magically, coming from everywhere at once. The flashing lights play over the crowd bathing the vast dance floor in neon. The dancing crowd is crazy, cranked up, and there are numerous dark nooks where people, uncaring of who might see them, hook up, and more.
The moment we entered, Finn, Daphne's husband, found us and brought us to a standing table, next to a partially secluded wall, the table already overflowing with drinks and vials. The two of them have taken Felix out on the dance floor and it doesn't look like they plan on stopping before the morning.
I'm sipping on absinthe, sweetened with sugar, and unsuccessfully trying to ignore the pair of dark eyes looking straight at me. "You planned this," I say, slightly raising my voice, but somehow, there seems to be no need. Wood is suddenly close to me, and I take a step back, hitting the wall behind me. He puts his arms on the sides of me, pinning me against the wall with a smirk.
"I like a challenge," Wood whispers in my ear, his leg parting my thighs and I hate the way I arch into him, trying to get some release, rubbing myself against the muscled leg, my dress hitching up, as if it ever covered anything. His smirk widens.
"Fuck you," I moan, suddenly breathless when his hand grabs my thigh roughly, lips on my neck, body pressed against me. We're touching in the darkness of the club, people watching us, but I don't fucking care when Wood's fingers rip off the thong, the ripped piece of designer fabric falling on the floor as Wood's fingers slip inside me and rub my clit, flames once again spreading through me. I fumble with his belt, his tongue circling one of my hard nipples, the dress brushed aside like it didn't exist, and I can feel his hard cock straining against his trousers.
He bites down on my shoulder when I finally touch him, sliding my hand over his cock quickly, the other one gripping his dark hair tightly, but he's already grabbing my hips, lifting me up and furiously pushing me against the wall, thrusting into me, and I let out a loud groan as he fills me up, moving rough and fast, my hand slipping down to rub my clit.
We're panting against each other, Wood kissing me, lips rough, the dark stubble scratching at my cheek, and his grip tightens against me as he goes faster, fingers bruising, leaving red marks on my skin, and inexplicably, we're in sync, breaths mixing together, hearts beating in the same rhythm, and when Wood yells out a strangled 'fuck', I can feel it echoing inside me, the fire uncoiling as I come hard.
Wood is still pinning me against the wall, head leaning against my shoulder, his fiery breath igniting my already inflamed skin as the music blares around us, the darkness protecting most of what happened from curious looks, and I don't think I can stand.
After a minute, he lets me back down, forehead resting against mine as we look at each other, both of us lost in the burning red madness between us.
