dracula teeth [nessa]

She thought to remind him that her shop in Ireland probably wasn't in the neighborhood either but decided not to. Nessa realized that it wasn't entirely her potions skills that he was after, but rather her ability to keep a secret. Every wizard worth his wand knew that the potion masters in London were nothing but gossiping snobs. No purchase went unnoticed, especially not by a celebrity. While Nessa certainly had many of the trademark snob traits, she had never been very fond of rumors.

The guess she made hadn't been in earnest, but she didn't mind paying the price for an incorrect answer. Especially not when it was her favorite liquor. "Distraught? They would probably riot in the streets," Nessa said before covering her mouth to stifle a laugh. Joke or not, she had guessed wrong, and Charlie was quick to tell her the price. Nessa pouted dramatically before taking an appropriate drink from her glass.

"Are your neighbors quite loud?" She posited next, taking another sip from her glass by choice before continuing. "I have some fine inventions to help with that; silencing switches, a dome that envelops the bed, or you could go straight to making them disappear?" Another joke—mostly. Nessa waited for his response as her eyes slid impishly over the items on the back wall that were perfect for making nosey neighbors go away.

Charlie breathed out a laugh -- Nessa was being facetious, he knew, but he thought it was in good fun. (And, narcissistically, a small part of him thought she might be right -- to a degree.)

He watched the brunette drink, not shy about being smug in her defeat (and taking the opportunity to give her another not-so-subtle once-over).

“Mm,” he pretended to think about her next guess--got distracted momentarily when he recalled the neighbour across the lane who was a little loud, but that wasn’t something he was about to divulge (nor was it keeping him awake, as such -- not even morally)--before shaking his head slowly. His lips curled into another smirk. “Strike two,” he told her, nudging the bottle of whiskey towards the Irish witch with his finger.

“It’s almost like you want me to get you drunk,” Charlie teased dramatically, wetting his lips and having a drink of his own. He pushed his glass towards her for a top-up. “Last chance,” he offered, though neither of them had agreed to a limit of three guesses, nor was it likely to result in either of them becoming intoxicated -- but he didn’t truly want Nessa to guess the real reason for his restless nights.

Nessa considered telling Charlie about her nosey neighbors and the quieting spell she had illegally put on their house, but with the ministry summons she had received by owl last week, she decided against it. It was better if no one knew she had motive, not that she thought anyone would ask him for information.

Instead of divulging information he had not asked for, Nessa shrugged her shoulders and took a strike two drink. While she wasn't truthfully playing, the witch still didn't like to lose. It was as if she was allergic to being wrong, a tendency that had of course been super helpful in every romantic relationship she had destroyed over the years. "Only if you are drinking with me," Nessa said with a smile, reminding herself that this game wasn't really a competition, and she could win in other ways.

Still, one last chance, and she intended to make it a good guess. Nessa considered her options, her lips pursing slightly, as she used a bit of wandless magic to top off her glass. "I think I've got it," Nessa met Charlie's eyes, something mischievous dancing around in her's, and continued. "You can't sleep because you would rather be doing something more entertaining." She had not missed the way that Charlie had been looking at her; in fact, she loved it. Maybe Charlie had come to her for more than just a sleeping potion, not that she would have minded.

“Oh?” Charlie grinned wolfishly. The musician made a point of picking up his freshly refilled glass and drinking with the Irish witch -- happy to match her if it meant his trip to Cork was about to be doubly successful. He had genuinely come here for help, but if the way she was looking at him was any indication, there was an opportunity for this to be mutually beneficial.

Nessa offered her third and final (potentially, he supposed) guess. Charlie wet his lips slowly as he considered her theory, keeping his dark brown eyes on her deep green. Wordlessly, he picked up his whiskey and finished it in one: an admission of defeat. It wasn’t strictly the truth, but if one squinted it fit well enough -- besides, he had an ulterior motive for wanting her to win.

Charlie set his glass back on the counter and ran his fingers back through his hair. He was now sitting (casually) as far forward on his stool as he could without slipping off of it, one booted foot on the floor and the other on the crossbar. “Fair’s fair,” he drawled with a forced sigh. “You won.” He topped himself up before doing the same for her. He put the bottle back down. “What d’you want?” he asked with a soft smirk.

"Wonderful," Nessa said with a smile, but it took everything she had not to gloat. It was unhealthy how much the witch loved to win things. Especially considering that what she had won was not tangible, it did not have value in sickles; it was just words, yet she coveted the win. Nessa had always been this way, overachieving and annoyingly ambitious; it had not done her any favors growing up. As she poured them each another drink, Nessa silently ran down the list of things she could ask for as a prize from the One and Only Charlie Baker.

There were a lot of things on the list.

Eventually, after about two seconds, Nessa spoke again. "Can I take a rain check?" She asked, one eyebrow-raising slightly. As many things as she could have asked for, Nessa realized it would be far more fun to have him owe her a favor. She would instead save her prize for another time; Nessa was nothing if not pragmatic. "That way, I've an excuse to see you again." There was not an inch of shyness in Nessa's words, and she hoped Charlie would understand her meaning. Being direct was a strength as it was a weakness, and Nessa rarely hid her feelings. "Maybe not wait another decade this time?"

"Do you like sculptures?" She asked abruptly, standing from the stool before giving him a chance to answer. "My cousin just shipped in a piece from Italy, 15th century, if memory serves, it's in the backroom." There was also a lot more privacy in the backroom, but Nessa thought that went without saying.

Charlie watched Nessa, trying to pick up on any hints in her expression other than the way her lips were curling at the corners. A rain check, she asked. His eyebrows rose in unison. He supposed there was no reason to say no -- even less of one when she openly admitted to wanting to see him again. He let out a light laugh. “Yeah, alright.” He kept his eyes on her for a moment, debating just making a move here and now—

The musician blinked, surprised by the sudden change in conversation. Dumbly, he watched her get up and step away from him. Charlie failed to hide the confusion on his face — then it clicked, and he smirked. “Well, I’ve always had a soft spot for fifteenth century marble,” he joked, getting to his feet and downing the whiskey he’d just poured.

He set the empty glass on the counter and abandoned it there, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he followed her through to the storeroom.

Charlie didn’t bother waiting to be led to her Italian sculpture—if it even existed—the moment he’d caught up with the Irish witch he wrapped his fingers around her wrist and pulled her back to him. Their eyes met and he knew by that look that he hadn’t miscalculated. He smirked and dipped his head, pressing his lips to hers and releasing her hand to place both of his on her waist. He could taste the whiskey on her tongue and he grinned into the kiss, shunted back in time to deserted corridors and hallways hidden behind tapestries.

“I thought you might,” Nessa flirted back with a bit of smile and led him away from the counter. She didn’t bother to grab the whiskey bottle as they walked past; if they needed it, magic was easy. Instead, she focused on not tripping on anything on the way because that would have been very Not-Nessa-Like and would undoubtedly ruin her mood. She was a typically very graceful witch, but something about the excitement had her feeling giddy. Like a teenager, even. It was silly.

Her skin tingled a little from the whiskey, and her heart sped up as they headed for the backroom, and Nessa loved the feeling. Aside from the chance meeting not long ago, it had been years since she’d seen Charlie Baker face to face, and he had not disappointed. Nessa had always been the sort of witch who held grudges; she never forgot someone who had wronged her, but it hadn’t been like that with Charlie. These days, Nessa barely remembered why they had started dating or why they had stopped. Just the little things in between, the best things, it was funny how nostalgia seemed to skew everything else.

They passed through the open archway into the backroom, and Nessa barely had time to turn around before Charlie pulled her toward him, and Nessa looked up at him. Her hands moved up his chest to wrap themselves over his shoulders, her fingers intertwining just behind his neck. And just like that, she was back in the past, only this time there weren’t any professors, loud friends, or bans on alcohol. Being an adult certainly had its perks. Nessa took a step backward and pulled him along with her until she’d reached an empty desk to lean on.

He felt Nessa’s hands slither over his shoulders and rest on the back of his neck, anchoring him to her. Charlie’s fingers dug softly into her waist as he leaned into the kiss—

She stepped backwards, pulling him along with her— and he was probably a little too eager, bumping her into something—he peeked his eyes open: a desk—with more force than was necessary. He smirked, pausing only for a second before pressing his mouth to hers again hungrily. His hands roamed further, down over her backside; he gave her a squeeze.

It was impossible not to think about the last time he’d snogged her — ten, more years ago. She had intimidated the fuck out of him—or, rather, her older brother had—but then he’d left Hogwarts and things had seemed a little less scary. He didn’t remember the exact last time — they all sort of blurred into one, that long ago. He couldn’t even remember if she’d been the one to—

Nessa bit his lip and Charlie inhaled sharply, half-moaning, and pulled back just enough to lick his bottom lip—check for the salty taste of blood, work out if she’d broken skin—and grin at her lopsidedly. “You’ve not changed,” he murmured. His fingers began slowly clawing at the material of her skirt, hiking it up around her hips as he kissed her again and encouraged her onto the desk.


[ out ]

Kissing Charlie had a way of transporting Nessa back to their past. There was a mix of nostalgia, remembering the boy who would kiss her in the hallways, but Nessa's need for perfection also plagued her. The perfectionist always wanted to do things better, and with Charlie's fingers digging into her thighs like that, Nessa knew they were headed toward much better things than they had ever done Hogwarts.

It had been long enough between then and now that Nessa remembered the highlights most, but even still, she was reasonably sure that neither one of them had been this good at kissing back then. And she was excited to find out what else he had learned in the last ten years. Nessa slid on top of the desk, sitting right at the edge and wrapping her thighs around him as he pushed the fabric of her skirt up. "I'll take that as a compliment," the dark witch replied. Nessa arched her back, willing herself to be a little taller, and pressed her lips to his once more.

In the back of her mind, she checked off her mental list; doors locked, shop closed, no one would bother them. Nessa pulled at the hem of his shirt, urging him to remove it eagerly. She might not have changed, but she was impressed by how much he had. Had Charlie Baker always been this devilishly handsome? She wondered and smiled because Nessa knew she had always had good taste.

/end