The first occlumency lesson after our Quidditch argument had started off perfectly normally, if not a little frosty at first. But two hours in, Tom had become so enraged by his inability to shut me out completely that a burst of raw internal power burst from him unexpectedly.
"Legilimens," he yelled, taking full advantage of this. I gasped as I felt him slam into my mind, it was strange, alien in fact.
His Legilimency skill was astounding, it was like nothing I had ever witnessed or even read about before, against all odds I was drawn into my own memories, experiencing the same thoughts as I had the first time round.
The wind was blustery as I climbed the final steps up the crag.
"Ready?" asked my companion. I smiled and nodded to a man with chin length raven black hair, calculating grey eyes and a kind smile
"Madame," he called as we approached the top. Finally what we had climbed all this way to see was in my view. Sat with legs crossed atop a large boulder was a woman, or what I thought was a woman. All I could see of her distinguishing features was a swarm of silver hair dancing chaotically in the wind, until she turned.
She was beautiful.
Her face wasperfect at first glance, seemingly ageless with wisdom that could warp a man's mind. As I stared, I could have sworn I could see faint scales as if they were just under the surface of her unblemished, ever so slightly translucent porcelain skin.
When she turned she did so with almost birdlike grace, her lithe shoulders slightly hunched, her elbows bent.
Her eyes were hawklike with irises of coal black, and when her gaze snapped to my face it felt as if the bottom of my stomach dropped out.
"My, my," she breathed, her eyes darting over ever feature of the pair before her.
"Lycoris Black, at your service, Madame," my father said, bowing low and with flourish. "And my daughter, Poppy."
"I suppose Apolline sent you up here," she said with certainty as she rose to stand.
"Indeed Madame," he replied.
"And to what purpose?" she asked, although I could sense she already knew the answer.
"Naming."
Her eyes snapped to me.
"She does not know, does she?" she said, her voice harsh. Lycoris shook his head.
The creatures face softened, and she stepped slowly forward to me, arms outstretched.
"You do not know your name," she crooned, placing soft, hot hands on my cheeks and looking into my eyes with compassion and a longing that seemed almost hungry.
"How did this happen?" her voice was harsh once more, demanding as it was directed at Lycoris.
"I was not present when she was named, and her mother died without telling a soul, I believe," he admitted, face bowed in shame.
"So that's why you came to me," she breathed, smiling sweetly. "Come child, sit with me."
I followed the woman, or whatever she was, grasping her hand like a child, though I was fifteen. Gently she guided me up onto the rock and we sat, hand in hand.
Lycoris came as close as he dared.
Close your eyes child, this will not harm you," she said, I, with one last look at Lycoris complied.
Immediately my mind felt warm and safe, like a hearth had been lit somewhere in my consciousness.
"We know the first and last my dear, but it is your middle that is the significant," she whispered.
"I don't understand," I replied in a whisper. In the future this kind of naming hard all but died out. "Why?"
"The magic of a new born is very powerful, it seeps into the mother's mind. The first name is how others will refer to you, your last is the family whose lives you share, but the middle, magic itself determines the middle. It is why no father ever overrules the mother's decision on the middle name of their child in the wizarding world. Because magic tells mothers, it whispers in their ear."
"What are you going to do?" I asked.
"I am a Veela seer child," she said calmly. "I am going to look into your magic and find such a name for you."
"But what does it mean?" I pressed.
"Destiny, my child."
As she spoke the words I felt magic being pulled from my core, the familiar hum was being stretched ever so slightly, it was flowing out of my body and into the sky. I panicked but did not break my contact with the Veela. Cracking an eye open I saw a string of flames being pulled from my heart, above our heads a letter was forming.
M
The next was just a blob for now, but it would take shape soon.
"NO!"
He could not know.
I could hear myself scream as I forced down my mental defences so hard it felt as if my head had been slammed into a door. This cry was mingled with Tom's scream of agony as we were both catapulted back into our own conscious minds.
Immediately my wand was brandished and I had launched myself onto Tom, jabbing it into his heart. He was bent double, clutching at his hair, rubbing his knuckles into his forehead.
"I have never, ever, looked into your private memories," I raged, punctuating each word with a bruising dig in the chest with the point of my wand. "Never!"
"And you still wouldn't," he managed to choke out, his pain dissipating much faster than I had hoped.
"And what make you think I won't do it right now?" I spat, forcefully pushing my wand into the hollow of his throat making him look up into my eyes, wild with fury.
"Because then you would have no moral high ground," he sneered, not looking at all uncomfortable, a satisfied smirk stretching his lips.
Despite my anger, I glanced at them and the thought of how devilishly attractive he looked fought its way into my mind. In that split second of distraction Tom found his advantage, using his physical strength advantage he reversed our positions.
The momentum tipped the armchair, sending us falling down to the floor with a thud that jolted my neck. I was pinned to floor, back flat against the back of the chair, front pressed down by Tom's body.
My wand had rolled across the rug, out of reach and only one of my hands wasn't being crushed. I had hardly any freedom of movement but I wrenched it free, yanking on his thick hair viciously. He made a sound like a grunt and used his shoulder to pin my upper arm. His shift in weight had allowed me to slide my knee out from underneath him, but he was still pressed flat against me, all vital organs protected by my own flesh.
I thudded the sharp heel of my shoe against the back of his knee making him wince, but it was futile. Swiftly he pinned both of my hands above my head with only one of his own, pinning my leg down with the other.
"What are we doing? Fighting like fucking muggles."
"Of course you say that now," he replied. "You've lost."
"Do you want me to use wandless magic and blow your entire room to pieces?" I asked venomously.
"Now, now love," he said mockingly. "Don't let that little temper get the better of you."
"Do not call me love," I ordered, regretting it almost as soon as the words left my lips.
Suddenly I noticed his body pressed against mine, pinning to the floor, the intimate touch of his hand on my thigh and the knee that was hooked around his legs. But mostly the sheer proximity of our lips to each other.
We locked eyes and I faltered under his smouldering gaze.
Before I could recover myself his lips crushed to mine. I was angry, furious in fact but the adrenaline it seemed could only add to the sensation.
His kiss was heated, as if fire was consuming us. Tom released my hands, bringing his own to my hair. Imitating him, I tangled my hands in his, pulling him closer, closing any gap we had between us.
I should have curled them into fists.
His hand on my thigh was moving, dragging his nails across the silky fabric of my stockings; I shivered beneath him, gasping into his mouth, delicious tingles running all along my spine.
He pulled back from my lips, breathing laboured and smirk triumphant. I could see the lust in his dark eyes and was sure it was mirrored in my own. He raised his eyebrows, I wasn't sure if was questioning whether I wanted to continue, or bragging, but I silenced any remark and answered any questions by pressing my lips to his.
With surprising grace he stood without breaking the contact of our bodies, slamming me down against the mattress. I had my freedom returned to me, but all I wanted was to be was under him.
I was almost disappointed when his lips left mine, but they were replaced at my neck. He bit a little too hard to be playful, but finished with a kiss. I wrapped my legs around his torso, breathing loud and fast as his hand slid up and down caressing my side with his lips attached to my earlobe.
Just as he was trailing kisses down my collar bone, plucking open my blouse button by button, there was a short, sharp rap on the door. I jumped, glancing at the clock; it was gone one in the morning.
Tom was faster, extinguishing the lantern and rolling us under the covers. He pressed a hand to my mouth and held me still.
"Come in," he called, his voice groggy as if he had just woken up.
"Tom, some second years have snuck out, down to the forbidden forest," my heart jumped into my throat. I knew Abraxas' voice.
If he saw me here now...
"Slughorn wants me, you and Cassie down there immediately." I dared to peek my head above the covers and sure enough gleaming in the orange glow from the corridor was his platinum blonde hair.
"I'll meet you in the common room in five minutes," Tom replied. "Give me a moment to change."
"Okay," he replied, closing the door slowly.
There was a moment of silence, the air was thick and I willed the crescendo that was my heart beat to slow down.
"I should go," Tom said in the darkness.
"Yeah," I agreed breathlessly. "I should get back to the tower too." Tom relit the light, ran a hand over his hair and straightened his emerald green tie. He looked immaculate once more.
"Give it ten minutes for us to leave the dungeons," he instructed before grabbing his cloak and swiftly exiting. He didn't look at me once.
I laid there for a minute in shock. Slowly shame started to bubble up inside, but I quashed it down.
I had nothing to be ashamed off, or so I told myself. To distract myself I looked around his room but was careful not to touch anything, his belongings were surely warded, else he would not have trusted me alone in his bedroom, I theorised.
I managed to sneak back to my bedroom without anybody seeing me, which I thanked Merlin for when I caught a look in the mirror. My hair was mussed and tangled, lipstick smudged, blue and bronze tie hung open, blouse broken, showing a slither of creamy white skin and black lace, my skirt was hitched up enough to show the ripped top of my holdups, a ladder in which ran all the way to my shoe.
Did I look like a tramp or a whore?
I let out a bark of a laugh, shook my head wearily and despite the late hour went and took a long soapy shower.