Maddy smoothed the fabric over her hips, critically examining the lines of her robes in the mirror. They were not truly her robes, but her mother did not wear them anymore, and Maddy had smuggled them into her trunk, hoping Cartimandua would not notice they were missing. The robes were a fetching sky blue, decorated with silver embroidery. She had chosen them because the wrapped style made the fit easier to adjust. Although Maddy was now as tall as her mother, she was rather more, which caused the V of the neckline to plunge somewhat lower on her than it had on Cartimandua.
A sharp knock sounded at the door.
"Hurry up, Yaxley! You're not the only one who wants to use the loo before we head into town."
Maddy scowled. "I'll be out in a minute!"
She pointed her wand awkwardly at a spot on her right sleeve, where the fabric was bunched, and muttered a charm she had learned from Squeaker. The blue silk smoothed itself. Maddy performed the same charm on a spot where the fabric stretched too tightly for comfort. Another charm raveled up the silver embroidery in a place where it had come undone, and repaired a moth-eaten hole in the skirt.
The Yaxley family's house-elf had once served in Maddy's father's theatre, making costumes for the performers. Her skills as a seamstress were renowned throughout wizarding London. There had been several offers to buy her, following Maddy's father's disappearance, including the proprietors of Twilfitt and Tatting's, but Maddy's mother had refused them all. The elf had proved her value over the years, though now her talents were turned to maintaining Cartimandua's extensive but increasingly outdated wardrobe.
The robes Maddy wore had been fashionable before she was born. Still, they had a curvy, figure-flattering shape to them that Maddy found pleasing. She hoped Rabastan would, too. They were certainly more eye-catching than her own shapeless black school robes.
She wished she had some of Ravenna's makeup to wear, but of course Ravenna wanted it for her own date with Xenophilius Lovegood. All Maddy had of her own was some face-powder in a silver mirrored compact that had been a birthday gift from her mother. That, and the book Venice had given her.
Maddy shuddered, squirming with remembered humiliation. The spells described in Beauty Charms for Charming Witches had indeed made her eyes larger and her lips fuller, but the results were so grotesquely exaggerated that Maddy had run to the hospital wing with her hands over her face, terrified that her looks were ruined forever. Fortunately the matron was able to set her to rights in moments, and no one Maddy knew had seen her in that state.
Insistent knocking rattled the door on its hinges, but Maddy ignored it. She adjusted the flowered hair clip Karima had given her, and powdered her nose one last time, before shrugging on her heavy winter cloak and fastening it down the front. She swept past her disgruntled roommates without a second glance, and hurried along the corridor to the Slytherin common room.
Rabastan was waiting for her, slouched against the wall. As he looked her over, the corner of his mouth curled up in a smirk.
"You look ... warm."
Maddy tried not to feel disappointed. "It's cold outside."
Rabastan wore his usual school robes and scuffed black boots, but it looked as if he had combed his hair, at least. His own cloak hung over his arm.
"C'mon," he said, turning away.
Maddy hurried after him, walking quickly to keep up with his long strides. By the time they reached the great oaken doors of the Entrance Hall, she was sweating under her thick woolen cloak. Her breath made white puffs in the crisp autumn air. She dared not remove the cloak where the Hogwarts staff might see her, however; students were expected to wear their school robes at all times, except in their common rooms and dormitories.
On the path down to the castle gates, Maddy caught sight of Venice and Karima, their heads bent together, giggling. Karima waved to her. Maddy quickly looked away, taking Rabastan's arm and gazing up at him adoringly. She refused to give them the satisfaction of seeming bothered by their vile gossip about him.
The village of Hogsmeade lay nestled in the same valley that cradled Hogwarts, sprawling from the gates at the entrance to the castle grounds, along both sides of the tracks where the Hogwarts Express ran, to the lower slopes of the glowering Scottish hills that protected the wizarding school and village from prying mugglish eyes.
"So ... d'you want to go to Puddifoot's?" Maddy asked hopefully, when they reached the high street.
"Nah; that place is for tossers. Let's go to the Hog's Head."
"The Hog's Head?" Maddy echoed, surprised. "I've never been."
If he was not going to take her for a romantic date at Madam Puddifoot's tea room, she would have been satisfied with the Three Broomsticks. The town's other pub was a dingy-looking place with a somewhat sinister reputation.
"It's great," Rabastan told her. "You hardly ever see professors or wand-up-the-arse prefects in there."
The inside of the Hog's Head was worse than the outside. The place smelled like a barnyard, and was nearly empty of patrons. Everything was grimy, from the bar to the sawdust that littered the floor to the windows that let in hardly any of the weak daylight. The small taproom was lit instead by a few flickering oil lamps which hung from the rough-hewn wooden rafters. The barman was tall and thin, with a long nose, scraggly white hair, and a scowl that appeared permanently etched on his face. Maddy thought he looked vaguely familiar, but could not place him.
Rabastan nudged her. "Go on. Give him a smile. I'll bet he likes pretty girls."
Maddy gave him a curious look, but obediently tottered forward. "Good morning," she said brightly.
The barman narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "What'll it be?" he grumbled.
Maddy opened her mouth to order a butterbeer, when the man's face went suddenly blank. He stood perfectly still, a glass and a dirty cloth forgotten in his hands.
"Two firewhiskies," said Rabastan, pocketing his wand and leaning casually on the stained bar top.
The barman moved jerkily, grabbing a bottle from the shelf behind him, and splashing uneven amounts of amber liquid into a pair of tumblers, without seeming to notice what he was doing. He pushed the glasses roughly across the bar, and Rabastan caught them before they could tip over the edge.
"What about my change?" Rabastan asked the man pleasantly.
Reaching into an old wooden till, the barman pulled out a fistful of silver sickles and dropped them into Rabastan's open hand. He pocketed the coins.
"Thanks."
Rabastan inclined his head toward a table in the far corner. Maddy followed him, wide-eyed.
"You confunded him!" she accused, as they sat down.
She dared a glance back toward the bar. The barman blinked, shook his head, and went back to polishing glasses with his filthy rag.
Rabastan grinned. "So what if I did?"
Maddy gave a shocked giggle. "I didn't know you were such a bad lad!"
"But you don't mind, do you?" he pushed one of the tumblers of firewhisky toward her.
She sipped it cautiously, and made a face. It had a hot, earthy taste, and made her tongue tingle.
Rabastan laughed at her expression. "What? You've never tried firewhisky before?"
"Mum never let me have it."
He cocked his head. "Do you do everything your mother tells you?"
"Not everything," admitted Maddy.
"I'm pleased to hear it," he chuckled.
She took another sip, and then a third, feeling the need to prove her daring. Although she did not care for the taste, she liked the way the drink made her feel warm all over, and pleasantly dizzy. It reminded her of the way she felt when Rabastan kissed her.
Maddy fumbled with the clasps of her cloak, shrugging it from her shoulders.
Rabastan gave a low whistle. "Damn, Yaxley. You look good."
She ducked her head shyly. "You like them?"
"Oh, I do," he said, eyes lingering on her chest. "It can be hard to tell how fat someone is in school robes, but you mostly just have big tits, and I definitely like those."
"I - um - cheers," she stammered, flustered. "They're my mother's. The robes, I mean." She took another swallow of firewhisky to cover her agitation.
Rabastan laughed. "I'll wager she doesn't look half as good in them as you do."
"She's very beautiful," objected Maddy, feeling her usual twinge of envy at her mother's effortless loveliness.
"Is she?" said Rabastan. "Maybe I should ask her to Hogsmeade next time."
"I - um -"
He laughed again. "Relax, Yaxley. I'm just having fun. I've got all the woman I want right here." He squeezed her breast in demonstration.
Maddy glanced surreptitiously toward the bar again, but the elderly barman paid them no mind.
"So, um, do you usually come here on Hogsmeade weekends?" she babbled. "My friends and I usually go to the Three Broomsticks, or to see what's new at Gladrags. That's probably what Venice and Karima are doing today. Ravenna is out with Xenophilius Lovegood, though. He's in Ravenclaw with her. They're probably at Puddifoot's ..."
"Uh-huh," said Rabastan, sounding bored. His fingers brushed her leg. "I usually come down with Avery and Rosier. Sometimes Snape tags along, when he's not off with that mudblood girlfriend of his."
"Oh. Are they going out?" Maddy asked. It was gossip her friends would be interested to hear. "Snape and the - the mudblood?"
Rabastan shrugged. "How should I know? She's pretty enough in a common sort of way. I suppose I can see why he would want to stick it in her once or twice." His fingers curled around her thigh, high enough to make Maddy catch her breath, but he continued speaking casually, as if nothing were happening below the tabletop. "Of course, Snape's only a half-blood. Everyone knows they have low standards. Wizards of good breeding know how to appreciate a proper woman."
Maddy swallowed, trying to keep her voice even. "So - am I the first girl you've brought to the Hog's Head?"
"What makes you ask that?" Rabastan asked distractedly.
His touch on her thigh began inching upward.
"Oh, n-nothing," said Maddy, her voice high and fast. "I - I just wondered if maybe you and Alice Finch ..."
Under the table, Rabastan's hand stilled. He frowned, appearing genuinely puzzled. "Who?"
Relief bloomed in Maddy's chest. "It's really nothing," she rushed to reassure him. "I only heard a rumour that you and she maybe used to be an item. Last year? At - um - at the Fawley's Yule party?"
"Oh, her." Rabastan laughed. "That really was nothing. We got caught fooling around in the cloak room. She didn't want to get into trouble, so of course she blamed me. I wasn't going out with her or anything; I just fingered her a bit, and tried to get her to wank me off. Why? Are you jealous?"
"No," said Maddy, disconcerted. "I just - you've done that - those things - with other girls before?" She was not certain what "fingered" meant, but the context suggested some highly improper activity.
He shrugged. "Now and then. Haven't you?"
Maddy shook her head, cheeks flaming.
A slow smile spread across Rabastan's face. "What? Not even a little?"
His fingers brushed the bare skin of her inner thigh, just below her bloomers, and Maddy stiffened as she belatedly realised that the wrapped folds of her robes gave him easy access to everything underneath them.
"Rab -" Her voice was a pleading whisper.
"Shhh, I'm not going to hurt you."
He leaned in and kissed her, mouth open, tongue thrusting between her teeth. She hastened to respond, tilting her face upward and moving her lips against his, not wishing him to think that she did not want his kisses. Rabastan tasted of firewhisky. Warmth rose in Maddy's chest. She turned toward him, wanting to feel his arms around her.
Instead of embracing her, Rabastan's hand slid between her legs. Maddy froze, breath catching in her throat, as his fingers poked and prodded roughly, rubbing at her most secret places through the delicate silk of her underwear.
"Don't -" She braced a hand against his chest.
"No one will notice, as long as you don't make a scene," he murmured. "Getting away with it in front of other people is half the fun."
Taking her hand from his chest, he guided it to his lap, wrapping her fingers around the hard shape under his robes. Maddy resisted the urge to pull away. She did not want to hurt Rabastan's feelings, after all, or make him think she was disgusted by him.
"Relax," he said softly. "Do you want to get caught?"
"No," whimpered Maddy.
It was hard to think with his fingers down there, touching her like that. She knew it was forbidden. She knew she should make him stop. She knew what her friends and her mother would say if they ever found out she let him touch her there. She could squeeze her legs tight together right now, trapping his hand, and then he would have to stop. If she wanted to. Instead, Maddy felt her knees easing farther apart.
Rabastan grinned. "That's more like it. Now just - like that ..."
He adjusted her grip on the hard shape between his legs, moving her hand up and down. Maddy had no idea what she was supposed to do with it, but she did her best to copy his movements, wanting to please him. With a grunt of satisfaction, he let go of her hand, kissing her again as he pawed at her chest.
The thin silk made it feel almost as though Rabastan were touching her bare flesh. Maddy shivered at the illicit thrill of it. She thought again of what her mother would say, knowing she should make him stop, but somehow, that did not seem to matter very much compared to the good feeling gradually building in intensity at Rabastan's fingertips.
"Mm, you're getting wet," muttered Rabastan. "Knew you wanted it."
He groped for the lacy cuff of her bloomers and yanked. Maddy felt them tear, and gasped, realising with sudden clarity what fingering must mean. He meant to do it to her right there, if she did not stop him.
"NONE OF THAT!" bellowed a terrible voice from above them. "I'LL HAVE NO UNDERAGE PULLY-HAWLY IN MY ESTABLISHMENT!"
Maddy squeaked and jerked away from Rabastan as the barman gripped him by the scruff of his robes and hauled him out from behind the table. The old man's face was contorted with rage. Maddy cowered, but Rabastan looked more annoyed than embarrassed.
"We're of age," he informed the barman coldly. "Look. You served us firewhisky."
The barman was having none of it. "OUT!" he roared, shoving Rabastan toward the door.
Maddy quickly wrapped her cloak around herself, pulling the hood down to hide her face, and hurried after him, cheeks flaming. Heads were turning in their direction in the street, looking to see what the commotion was about.
"C'mon," Rabastan said roughly.
She rushed to keep up with his long strides, and was panting by the time they slowed.
"D'you think they'll tell?" Maddy whimpered, glancing over her shoulder.
Rabastan snorted. "They didn't see anything. Unless that bloke was one of your mum's old boyfriends, no one in there probably even knew who we were."
His lack of concern heartened Maddy a little. "Still, we shouldn't've -"
"It was fun, though, wasn't it?" he interrupted, grinning. "I could tell you liked it."
"I - um -" Heat rushed to Maddy's face again, and she bent her head, letting her hood hide her blush. "Where should we go now?"
"I know a place."
She had hoped he meant the Three Broomsticks, or some other familiar location, where she could calm down and begin to process everything that had happened, but instead, their path took them to the edge of the village, toward an ancient, lopsided house with boarded up windows.
Maddy hung back, uncertain. "That's the Shrieking Shack."
"I know," said Rabastan smugly.
"It's supposed to be haunted by some really awful spirits."
"Supposed to be," he agreed. "You coming? Unless you're too scared ..."
Maddy scowled. "I'm not."
A light rain began to fall, beading the thick wool of Maddy's cloak. Rabastan peered through a crack between the boards over one of the windows, then beckoned her around the corner, to the back side of the ramshackle building. Maddy reluctantly followed, stumbling over a loose paving stone.
"We should go back," she suggested. "The Three Broomsticks has hot butterbeer. Or we could get tea."
"Nah, this is better."
Rabastan's arm circled her waist, pulling her close. He kissed her, quick and rough.
"Most people avoid this place even in good weather. We'll have it all to ourselves today. No more interruptions."
She was pinned to the weathered wood of the wall, Rabastan's knee between her thighs. The hard shape of his staff ground into her belly. Maddy gasped as his hand plunged into the low neckline of her robes, squeezing her breasts and pinching her nipples. Her hood snagged on her flowery hair clip as he pushed it back, pulling her hair awry.
"It's not fair of you to get me all worked up like this, and leave me cold," he panted in her ear. "You don't want to be a tease, do you, Yaxley? No one likes a tease."
"No," she whispered.
"Good girl," he muttered approvingly. "You don't have to do much. Just -"
He grabbed her hand and forced it into the pocket of his robes. The bottom of the pocket had come unstitched, and Maddy was shocked to discovery that Rabastan wore nothing under his robes. Her hand closed around hot, damp flesh, and he groaned, adjusting and tightened her grip.
"Like that - yeah," he panted. "Do it right, and I'll do something nice for you."
Maddy's heart pounded. She had no idea what doing it "right" meant. The thing in her hand felt strange and thick and nothing like what she had expected from Freya Lovelace's poetic descriptions. Was this what "turgid" meant? She was curious to explore it more thoroughly, but Rabastan mostly seemed to want her to rub and tug it, and pleasing him seemed more important. Maddy thought briefly about asking to see it, but what if, in return, he wanted to see her private parts? She was not certain she was ready for that.
"Do we have to come up here?" complained a voice from the other side of the house.
"It's our place. Why wouldn't we?" replied a second voice.
Maddy gasped and yanked her hand out of Rabastan's pocket.
"Helga's tits," Rabastan cursed under his breath. "It's those fucking Gryffindor tossers."
"Let's go," begged Maddy. "Before they see us."
"Yeah, all right," Rabastan grumbled.
As she pulled up her hood, Maddy noticed something blue lying on the ground. Her lovely flowered hair clip was crushed and mangled. She tried ineffectually to brush the mud from its petals, forcing down a welling sense of disappointment. She did not own many pretty things.
"Come on," muttered Rabastan impatiently.
She showed him the hair clip as she fell into step beside him. "I think one of us must have stepped on it."
"Oops," said Rabastan, not sounding sorry at all. "Your bauble got ruined, and I didn't get off. I guess we both lose."
