DISCLAIMER: I still do not own any of the Potterverse characters. There are a few I would like to own. Just keep them and take them out when I needed them. But alas, they are owned by JKR.
Timeline: Cannon HBP, beyond that it's my twisted timeline.
Rating: Mature for language and sexual content
A/N: Mwahahaha … two chapters in one day? Unheard of! This chapter was not in my original plan, but it works out so freakin well. I can't help it, I LOVE the Irish and New York City. Sigh. You know, I'm not writing this for Kelly. Well, ok, to be honest, I am writing it for Kelly, but not ONLY for Kelly. Reviews would really help. Just let me know what you think.
Aurelia.
Aurelia actually giggled as she landed on the plush bed. This wasn't the first time she had visited New York City, but it wasn't in this much style. The Port Key had deposited the three wizards and two witches into the living room of Trump Soho Hotel's penthouse suite. Father Crowley was waiting for them when they arrived, sitting in a chair lazily, wearing a suit and tie.
There was only a short moment of greetings and introductions before Albus ushered her into one of the bedrooms to shower and get changed. The bathroom was amazing, bigger than her living room, but if she had to choose, the bed was her favorite part. She bounced again, letting out one more laugh before hoping off the bed. She pulled out the box she had brought with her and pulled out the dress. She wouldn't admit it to anyone, because she had a right to be indignant at all of them for not giving her a choice in the matter, but she was really excited for the opportunity to wear the outfit.
She slipped the robe off and pulled the dress over her head. As if knowing Aurelia needed help, Minerva opened the door. Her face lit up. "You are so beautiful."
Aurelia couldn't help the color that rose in her cheeks. "Can you help with the zipper?" She turned her back to Minerva and let her zip up the dress. It really did fit well. The dress was black and snug in all the right places. The bust was a dark red, drawing attention to the low neckline. It hung just below her knees but there was a slit up the right leg that stopped at mid thigh, showing off a good amount of that leg.
She scrunched her nose as her eyes fell on her reflection. Her dark brown hair fell in dull waves and the dark circles under her eyes took the magic away from the dress.
"Could you do something with my hair and make up?"
Minerva laughed out loud. "Of course. Sit down and let me work."
She set to work, transfiguring her hair and make up. Aurelia was shocked at how little time it took to transform her. She almost didn't recognize her own reflection. Her hair fell in heavy curls, the auburn highlights catching the light. Her lips and cheeks were stained red and her eyes a smoky gray.
"Are you ready now?" Minerva asked.
"Almost." Aurelia ran, as much as she could in the dress to the box on the bed. She grinned as she pulled out a pair of shoes. They were three inch pumps, the same red as on the dress. She slipped them on and put her hands on her hips, quite pleased with herself. "Now I'm ready."
The men in the living room were arguing, their voices rising over each other. Aurelia made her way into the room and cleared her throat. The room fell silent and Albus was the only one not brought to his feet. There was a strong wave of attraction and a barely concealed arousal. For a moment Aurelia couldn't tell which man was radiating the feelings. Then a deep flush spread down her face and over her chest when she realized all three of them were having the same reaction.
"Well," she finally spoke when no one else did. The Irish brogue already in place. "How do I look?" In turn, all three of the standing men opened their mouths to speak, but none actually did.
"You look amazing, my dear," Albus finally spoke, smiling brightly.
Kingsley, who happened to be the closest to Aurelia, motioned for her to take his seat around the coffee table. She felt a surge of jealousy from Severus' direction when Kingsley placed a hand at the small of her back before she sat. She was embarrassed that she enjoyed the reaction. Kingsley remained standing, leaning quite close to her over the table and the other two men reluctantly took their seats.
"So, what's the problem?" She ignored the look Severus shot her.
"We need to swap the boxes," Kingsley said placing a small wooden jewelry box in front of her.
"There will be extensive security around the real box as well as when you enter," Father Crowley explained. "They will be checking everything on your person."
"Why don't we just transfigure it?"
"Into what?" Kingsley asked.
Aurelia picked the wooden box up. It wasn't an overly elaborated box. It opened at the top and was lined with a dark purple velvet. When the idea hit her, she almost laughed. She set the box back on the table and slowly drug her hand across it. The wood transformed to a small puffed up square wrapped in a white covering.
"What is it?" Kingsley asked, and all three men leaned closer.
Aurelia smiled and placed it into her purse. "Something a woman would be expected to have, and no man would look too closely at."
The dawning crossed the men's faces at almost the exact same time and they leaned back from the table as one. Aurelia laughed. It was amusing that something as simple as a feminine product could make three powerful wizards uncomfortable.
"And how do you expect to get close enough to make the swap?" Crowley asked.
"You chose me for a reason. I image I will come up with something."
Wayne.
He noticed her right away. Actually, everyone noticed her right away. It was after all a black and white ball. Her red shoes and fabric at the bust of her dress stood out, drawing his attention to her breasts. But he had to admit, they were worth drawing attention to.
He wished for the first time he sent out the invitations for his parties himself instead of having his assistant. He had never seen her before and she looked like she was worth knowing. At least for the night. She made the room with confidence, engaging in idle chit chat and giving each exhibit the proper attention. When she made her way back to the jewel box display for the third time he decided to approach her.
"You do know this is a black and white ball?" he whispered into her hair.
"Apparently that's what the invitation said."
He had to suppress a groan. Her Irish accent was thick and warm. Her voice was low and lacked the shrill screech most women he knew spoke with. He could listen to this woman speak for days.
She turned to him and smiled mischievously. "However, I have yet to be escorted out."
He couldn't help smiling back at her. "Are you here with," he paused, trying to remember the name of the Irish investor who was rumored to be in the country. "Brandon Doyle?"
She smiled again, but it wasn't acquiescence, but with amusement. "It's Brannan Doyle. And I am she."
He was surprised but recovered well. He had assumed it was a Mr. Doyle, not a Miss Doyle. Or a Mrs. He glanced down at her left hand. No wedding band, so hopefully a Miss.
"Well, then, Miss Brannan Doyle," he tried it out and when she didn't correct the title, he extended his hand in introduction. "Wayne Michaels."
She flashed him that same smile as before. She knew who he was. She took his hand and shook it with a firm grip. He liked that. He always said a handshake told a great deal about a person. He especially hated the cold fish handshake. But hers was strong, confident and yet still feminine, fitting for the owner of a very profitable investment firm.
"You like the box?" he asked, pointing to the display.
She turned to examine the glass encased wooden box. "I do." And she sounded surprised. "I mean, the other pieces are all beautiful, but this one," she paused frowning. "But this, I don't know. I'm just drawn to it."
He caught the eye of a man carrying a tray of champagne and they both took a glass.
"Do you know any of the history on this piece?"
"I don't," she said and took a sip of the drink.
"Well, when I purchased it, I was told that the woman who had originally owned it had fallen in love with a man who never returned her feelings. She had to have him, so she bewitched him to marry her and father her child. As his feelings for her were never real, he fell in love with a widow that lived in their town. When the woman found out about their affair she couldn't stand him loving anyone but her. So she robbed him of his feelings and kept them in the box. So he was never able to love."
"So it's magic," she smiled. "Would you ever be persuaded to part with it?"
"I haven't been yet. A few years ago I was approached by an English gentlemen. Strange looking fellow. Long blonde hair and gray eyes. My price was too steep for him, and I'm not sure you could afford it," he teased.
"It can't be worth that much," she said flashing him another brilliant smile. She really was gorgeous.
"It's not. But like you, I'm drawn to it. It would take a lot for me to part with it."
She tried to hide her smirk but failed. She tilted her glass of champagne and watched it bubble. "Well, why don't I start the bidding with a real drink?"
He scrunched his nose. "Unfortunately, you're not going to find a real drink here." For a moment she looked disappointed. He leaned in and whispered into her ear, "There's an Irish Pub down the street, may be more to your liking. Do you want to get out of here?"
She bit her lower lip, and he knew he would do anything in his power to get this woman in bed, even if it meant parting with the stupid box.
"But isn't it your party? Aren't you obligated to stay?"
He laughed out loud. "I think because it's my party I can do anything I damn well please."
Severus.
When the knock came for the second time, Severus realized he had been dozing in the chair. With a quick glance at the clock above the fireplace he groaned. It was just after two in the morning, local time. Which meant it was seven London time. Spying Crowley on the terrace smoking a cigarette and not seeing Kingsley, he pushed himself out of the chair. Just as he made it to the door, he saw Kingsley appear from the bathroom.
Severus opened the door to find Aurelia grinning, leaning heavily on a young bell hop.
"Good evening, my dour professor," she slurred, her brogue still surprisingly in place.
"I brought her directly up here after the car dropped her off," the boy explained. "I didn't think she could make it by herself."
She swayed forward toward Severus and he caught her just as her legs gave out. In one quick movement, he wrapped his arm around her waist and flung her useless legs into his other arm. He ignored the gasp of surprise that quickly turned into a purr of contentment and motioned to Kingsley to take care of the hotel employee.
"I don't usually drink," she whispered in his ear.
Severus swallowed hard, willing her hot breath on his flesh to not have the effect it was having on him. "I can tell," he managed.
"Did you get the box?" Crowley asked, crossing the room, smelling of smoke.
"Father Crowley," she gushed. "You do look much yummier in a suit. Actually," she said, waving her hand dangerously close to Severus' head. "All three of you are quite delicious in Muggle clothing." She smiled at Severus and then rolled her wrist and the small box appeared.
"How did you—?" Severus couldn't finish the question before Crowley took the box, examining it.
"I'm magic." She flashed him another grin.
Kingsley shut the door after either paying the man or wiping his memory, Severus didn't care which. "Do you have a sober up potion?"
"Not on me," Severus said, shifting her weight in his arms. "She'll just have to sleep it off." He carried her toward the bedroom she had used earlier in the night.
"I do hope you're coming to bed with me," she purred and Severus refused to look at either of the other two men. He shut the bedroom door on what he knew were incredulous stares.
He laid her down on the oversized bed and instead of watching her nuzzle the blankets seductively, he turned to the door reminding himself that she was drunk and if anything were to happen, he would be taking advantage. Not to mention there would be no amount of convincing the two wizards out the door of anything otherwise.
"Severus?" the tone of her voice stopped him, his hand on the door handle. "Can you at least help me out of these clothes?" Her accent was her own again, with only a hint of the Irish influence. "Please." And that one word was his undoing.
He slowly made his way back to the bed, trying to ignore how the hem of her dress was riding up her legs. He paused at the side of the bed and for a moment he wasn't sure if she was still awake. Her eyes were closed and her breathing was even.
Then she lifted her left leg and he caught her foot. He slowly slid the shoe off and let it fall to the floor. He set her leg back on the bed and she lifted her right leg. The slit of the dress rode up to the edge of her underwear. They were red lace. He pulled that shoe off and it fell from his hands, but he didn't let go of her foot.
Instead, he ran his hand over her ankle, along her calf, passed her knee and up her thigh. She gently pulled her leg from his grasp and rolled over on her side, her back toward him.
"The zipper," she spoke barely above a whisper.
He hesitated, watching as she rubbed her legs together. It made the most delicious sound that made the sight the fabric pulled tight across her ass even that more alluring. With a heavy sigh, he gave in and put one knee on the bed, bending over her. Slowly, he pulled the metal down, exposing the expanse of her back all the way to her waist. He ran the knuckles on his right hand up her spine, stopping briefly on the clasp of her black bra.
"Here, help me up," she said quietly and rolled over to face him. She held out both hands and he took them, helping her off the bed. She wobbled only a touch when she stood, and wriggled her arms out of the dress. It fell to her feet.
He tried with all of the power in his being to just look her in the eye. He failed miserably. His eyes drug across her body from head to toe.
"If I ask you to stay with me tonight, will you?"
He swallowed hard. It was painfully obvious what he wanted.
"Yes," he finally answered.
She smiled and leaned forward, standing on her tip toes. His hands found the flesh of her hips as he let his fingers dig beneath the fabric of her panties. He closed his eyes and leaned down to capture her mouth but she stopped him, placing a hand over his mouth.
He opened his eyes to see a very pained expression. Her face turned a sickly pale color, then green and she dove away from him, scrambling for the bathroom.
The whole stress and frustration of the situation made him laugh. She had never actually asked him to stay. He curled his lip hearing her void the contents of her stomach. He waiting until he heard the toilet flush and then he left the room.
Both Kingsley and Crowley fell quiet when he closed the door behind him.
"Holding back the hair of an overindulgent girl with a weak stomach is not in my job description." He was relieved when the two men made their way to the bedroom, without noticing the obvious tenting of his slacks. He made his way to the port-key that was sitting on the kitchen counter. She would need a hangover potion by the morning, and he would need a stiff drink and a cold shower.
Had it only been Crowley, he wouldn't have left. He didn't trust Crowley to keep his hands to himself. But Kingsley would be the noble hero and make sure she was safe over the night. Resolved, Severus placed his hand on the port-key and disappeared.