Picking up a stray magazine-- how could anyone treat such precious publications as if they were common textbooks?-- Neely flipped it over to the front to study its cover. “Oh.” That was why. Frowning at the title, Trasfiguration Today, she promptly tossed it onto the coffee table in front of her as if it were mildly contagious, and then fell into the plush pillows of the stony-gray upholstered couch at the far reaches of the Slytherin common room, away from the fireplace. It was much too warm still to enjoy the crackling flames, however delicate Neely claimed to be.

A sigh escaped her lips (today a favorite shade of ruby she’d finally felt at liberty to wear having successfully turned a whole fifteen years old over the summer). School was already boring her to tears (bad for even charmed water-proof mascara), though Neely had paid her dues by buttering up to professors, signing up for extra classes, attempting to stalk the gamekeeper-turned-school-nurse, and doing her best to impress in Divination. On top of that, she was dating (or thought she was dating) a Prefect! Certainly that would boost her academic resume.

But now it was time for the fun that yet to begin: the parties, the breaking of curfew, the cocoa, and the catty remarks. Neely hadn’t yet spent a good night sitting up and giggling with Jordyn and Evie, or bantering with the Ravenclaw whom she’d secretly gotten to know quite a bit over the summer. Hogwarts put such awful demands on poor little Neely! She was practically a child laborer!


Before she could stand up again and wander toward her dormitory, Cashmere-- who had grown considerably over the summer-- pounced onto the couch’s arm, and then leapt silently into Neely’s lap. A gray mouse matching the couch hanged limply by its tail from the cat’s mouth. This was not the good kind of matching.

“Yugh!” Neely whined, voicing some girly hybrid of ‘yuck’ and ‘ugh’. She tried to flick it away without actually touching it-- an impossible feat. “Bad kitty!” No, wait... “I mean, good kitty, but not here. Not on my new skirt!”

She reached into said skirt, pulling out her wand, and aiming it carefully at the dead rodent.

To be back at school, it was glorious. Now that was not something that Emmett would normally be thinking, but it was still far to early in the school year for the novelty of those amazing skirts to have worn off. He loved to walk behind the girls watching their hips say in those fantastic skirts. They just clung to the hips swishing back and forth accentuating their fine curvatures off the female bottom.

Emmett had been sitting casually in the library for the past half hour or so, appearing as if he was reading or something of the like. He was in fact watching the girls as he often did, observing the fall of their clothing over their frame. His eyes only lingered on the attractive ones, at least attractive to Emmett.

After he grew bored of staring, or became more obvious what he was up too he decided to leave. Really there was no reason other than the girls for him to be in the library. He hoped Devlin or Atticus didn’t see, but they were bound to figure out the reason he was in the library was for anything but homework. It was far to early in the school year for him making a scramble to cram.

Emmett left with his History of Magic text in hand wandering down the corridors, taking a look at the swaying hips of the girls who strutted by. He liked to think they strutted for him, and many probably did. Emmett walked down the stairs stretching upwards as he did so and holding his book to his chest. He was headed back to observe the delightful display of girls he could observe there, and there he didn’t have to pretend to be reading.

He entered the common room tossing his book with little care onto the nearest table with the idea of finding it later, like that was going to happen. Knowing Emmett he would completely forget about it, and it would appear with his things thanks to the house elves and his name written in his bold script on the inside page. Just as the thud of his book came he heard the cry of a girl in need. It was Emmett’s time to shine.

“We cannot have your kitten fouling up such a pretty skirt now can we,” he said leaning over the couch looking at Neely as he did so. She might be young but she was cute. Emmett easily pulled the mouse from the cat’s mouth and tossed it aside to the floor. “Now what shall we transfigure it into?” He asked as he hopped over the back of the couch to sit next to her. “After all you cat did mean it to be a present, even if it is not one you like.”

Neely was too worried about the inanimate carcass formerly known as ‘mouse’ ruining her outfit or spreading its Dead Mouse Germs to snap her blonde head in the direction of the echoing book. Generally, though, it was a glorious sound-- someone else bored with studying, and letting it be known to the world. Or, er, the Slytherin common room... which in many ways was the world.

For this reason, she heard the voice-- that voice-- before she saw the exquisite face of Emmett Rideau, who definitely, absolutely, without a doubt should immediately quit school and find himself a career in the world of fame. Because he was that gorgeous. Fame was only fleeting for people who had no talent physical appeal. Hadn’t Sasha told Neely she would be successful on Muggle television? Exactly!

And the voice? Was talking to Neely.

“Emmett!” Turning to take in his visage, she nearly forgot the thing in her lap. And then... she remembered it. Neely cringed, half apologetically, and half comically as she turned back to the terrible thing. Emmett’s fingers matched the speed of her gaze and rid Cashmere of the mouse. Neely was content, but the feline mewed in protest and pounced after it.

Smirking at the boy while also silently appraising his face, admiring his eyes, she said the first word that came to mind (and who could blame her?) “Blue...” They were startling, his eyes... and, hey, the primary color of Ravenclaw! Lest she forget. “A blue toy mouse,” she elaborated, seeming to come out of a daze. She pried away reluctantly, looking back toward Cashmere, who was already pawing at the thing.

“I haven’t talked to you in ages. How was your holiday?” She added casually, now teetering the wand in her hand. Transfiguration was the last thing on her mind. She smoothed the edges of her skirt-- carefully tailored to avoid the demands of school dress code for just such occasions-- and kept her eyes on the older boy... as nonchalantly as possible, of course.

“Blue?” He asked in an amused tone, he knew she had been staring at his eyes oas there was nothing else blue she can see. The only thing blue was her eyes and it wasn’t like she was staring into a mirror, the last time Emmett checked he wasn’t so pale he was reflective. “Ah a blue toy mouse,” he chuckled as he settled down into his spot next to her. His arm draped over the back of the couch behind Neely, as if making the move to have his arm around her shoulders. He was playing with the fabric of the couch as his fingers were making their way towards Neely’s slender shoulder.

“Well it appears you kitten has taken to playing with the decaying mouse,” Emmett chuckled in amusement. “How about we just vanish it away when your cat is done with the fun.” Emmett said as he shifted a little closer to her. Leaving the library had been a good idea after all, because now he was getting up close and cozy with Neely Woolfolk. He decided since he was taller if he moved closer he might get a good view of her cleavage. Neely really did have good taste in clothing, what with that gorgeous top and short skirt.

“My holidays were good,” he paused, “they would have been better if I could have seen you.” Emmett smiled as he shifted closer and got a good view of the slight gap in her shirt. Perfect was all he could think as he moved his hand to that shoulder of hers. Just like Emmett to pray on the shell shocked younglings. They obviously got this way by being shocked that Emmett would be paying them any mind.

“How were your holidays?” He breathed softly near her while getting and another eyeful of what was hidden under that shirt before focusing on her face. Emmett smiled at her gently rubbed her shoulder.

“Like Ravenclaw,” she said suddenly, attempting to cover her own tracks. Blue like Ravenclaw. Mmhmm. Neely grinned, though not without a hint of guilt dancing over her lips. Wishing she possessed some sort of sixth sense akin to Astrid’s-- unfortunately fashion savviness didn’t count in this instance-- Neely wanted very much to zone in on Emmett’s arm behind her. Instead, she continued to study his spellbinding eyes, following them to and from the mouse, but somehow missing the peaks at her chest and from the top downward.

Wrinkling her nose, she nodded exasperatedly. But, somehow, if Cashmere’s new plaything provided an excuse to talk to the older Slytherin, it was oddly worth it. “Yeah, I suppose we should let him have his fun...” She reasoned finally, resuming her smile. And Neely would have her fun, too! She certainly didn’t need a blue toy mouse for that...

Neely had been on the verge of launching into her own version of the summer, even without being asked, and, more importantly, planned to share the impressive news of a new boyfriend, but Emmett’s smooth words shut her up for a miraculous moment. Her heart fluttered in that way that it did when saw an Arius editorial. She bought his words like a new pair shoes, or a fish being hooked by a lethal line.

And oh, what a line.

“Oh,” she said, giggling. “Well, maybe next summer.” If Sasha didn’t mind Neely having a few new friends. Of course, she liked to think Emmett was already a friend. A very beautiful, older, painfully cool one who ran around with Devlin Matthews as if the rules didn’t apply to them. “I was sort of busy this summer,” she added cheerfully, finally trying to lure him with her own words, or at least gauge a reaction. “I visited Jordyn in France, and Evie and I had fashion internships, and I started dating Sasha.”

She was impressed with herself, at least. She’d managed to blurt out all of that while Emmett breathed the simple, casual question like a romantic proposition. Golly Godric, how did anyone keep sane around him? Her arms, though warm from the temperature indoors, tingled with a chill when the seventh year rubbed her shoulder. “I bet you got to Apparate this summer, and use your wand whenever you wanted,” she said longingly. It was so unfair.

“Oh of course, blue like Ravenclaw.” He laughed, it was kind of hard to cover that up but he would give the attempt to Neely as it was only fair especially since she had given him the opening to stare and get nice and cozy. Emmett never gave up the opportunity to get nice and cozy with the girls of Slytherin, heck any cute girl of Hogwarts. So what if it just so happened many of the worthy and cute girls of Hogwarts happened to be in Slytherin, or so Emmett thought.

Emmett smirked as his fingers moved along her shoulder and grinned as he continued to pay more focus to her shirt and what it was hiding rather than her face or the words she was saying. Emmett smirked a little as she spoke. “Yes maybe next summer,” Emmett brushed some hair away from her face, and curled it behind her ear. “I think I would like to spend some of your summer with you, after all I will be out in the real world by then.” Emmett laughed but really it was a nervous thought for Emmett as he was trying not to think too much about how scary the real world would be. He wasn’t sure how to even approach the real world or how to make his dreams come true. Emmett wanted to be a baker, own his own bakery but the likes of his father actually letting that happen were slim to none.

Emmett wasn’t really listening to what Neely had to say, his focus was on the shirt she was wearing. He did hear the words dating Sasha, which shocked and disappointed him. Neely was off the market? How unfair of Sasha to take such a beautiful young lady off the market and away from the likes of Emmett. He chose not to even focus on the fact she had a boyfriend because she surely was not acting like she had one by letting Emmett get so close.

“France you say, that is exciting.” Emmett grinned as he looked over her shirt. “Did you get this fine piece of art from there?” He asked as he touched her shirt. “After all the workmanship on it is fabulous that I classify it as art.” He looked her over and down at the skirt that was a beautiful length, “As well as this?” He said and dragged a finger lightly along a hem no doubt touching a bit of her skin. “Beautiful, I think it means a lot when women have good sense of style.”

“You know I did get to use my wand whenever I liked, it made life so easy.” He grinned and focused on her face for the first time in their conversation. “I definitely got to apparate and if not for the spells around Hogwarts not allowing me to do so I would apparate us both away somewhere.” He smiled, “Like Paris.”

Neely couldn’t deny the appeal of the boy, even if she technically, officially, finally had a boyfriend in the form of a very charming, academically successful, and overly-polite Ravenclaw whose invisible ex she was determined to bury for good. She thought of Sasha, whose eyes were also a nice blue, and she felt a little blush rise in her cheeks. It wasn’t her fault Emmett had decided to talk to her, was it? Neely was just... Neely.

“The real world,” she echoed, again feeling a pang of jealousy, while also sounding not-so-subtly mesmerized, and impressed. “Do you have plans for after your N.E.W.T.s? I take my O.W.L.s this year, but I’m not too worried,” she lied. The truth was, Neely was in over her head in terms of her class schedule, which existed as much for social purposes as academic ones. She had added a few classes in hopes of keeping up with her besties and, of course, Mr. Schlagenweit. She tried to coolly ignore swooning over the idea of spending a part of her holiday with a Hogwarts graduate; it was like Christmas in July. And Neely took every word to be the truth.

A boy who thought fashion was art was a boy transcended to a new, superior level of the human species. This time Neely couldn’t help the enamored look that crossed her face. Her eyes shot down to her thighs, where Emmett’s fingers traced her hemline. Goosebumps started again, despite his warmth. It was like an excerpt from diary or imagination, one she hadn’t really, in the depths of her heart, expected to come true. (She had, of course, spent a great deal as of late writing about a certain member of Rowena’s house, and his surprising kissability).

“Oh this?” She asked, as if it weren’t the least bit impressive. “London-- But not Madam Malkin’s.” Golly Godric, the place was overrated, she felt. There were much better options, what with the blue-blooded boutiques gracing Diagon Alley. Plus, others, she’d discovered, were more willing to tailor things to her own taste (as opposed to the school’s, which was bland, and, well, safe.) “You have good style, too, Emmett.” Neely reluctantly tore her gaze from his fingers, and tilted her head to the side, smirking. “Some boys just don’t understand.” The ones she liked did, thank Merlin.

Neely had been shocked to learn that Sasha kept his wand at school all summer, every summer. She’d liked having hers at her side, or rather, was so used to its presence as to be unaware, unless it went missing. But the fact that Emmett was actually allowed to use his, something Neely had been sorely tempted to do in more than one instance, was as impressive as the boy having his Apparation license. She was sorely unaware of any difficulties he might have had in earning it. To Neely, Emmett seemed like the sort of person who could simply blink his eyes and be in another place, perfect shoes planted firmly on the ground. “There’s nothing like Paris with friends, is there?” She asked, innocently emphasizing the word, as if Emmett weren’t currently investigating her creativity with the dress code. “I’ve been dying to take my cousin Astrid there, to get her a new wardrobe.”

Whoops, had she just admitted to being cousins with Astrid? (Well, it was rather common knowledge...)

“Do you have any suggestions?” She asked, her eyes dancing. Surely Emmett was a resident expert on what made girls pretty.

“Yes the big bad real world calls to me,” Emmett chuckled, “It tends to do that when one enters their seventh year, unless they are complete idiots and need to repeat the year.” Emmett would never admit that he sometimes feared he would have been so lazy through the year that he would need to repeat a year, but so far so good. He knew this was his final year and maybe just maybe he would apply himself a little more. Then again your seventh year was not really necessary as he was able to do magic so he could just drop out if he was forced to repeat. Emmett was not going to dwell on that and like everyone else he would assume he would pass. “Well I do have plans for opening my own business once I am done school,” Emmett said softly to Neely. “I want to cook and bake, so thinking of a bakery café.” Emmett said smoothly as he neared her. “Maybe decorated as a Paris café, I need to think of something perfect for the décor.” Of course he needed to find investors first as his father expected him to follow in the footsteps he had made a life with, the lawyer way of life.

Was it cocky of Emmett to assume he was doing things to Neely, such as making her flustered? Nah it just came with the territory or being a flirt. He knew that he could make her think she was the center of his attention and focus, like no other girls existed. That was how you got as many girls as Emmett did, make them think that they were the only girl for him. Truth be told he had yet to find a girl he wanted to be faithful and exclusive with. Nobody held that much attention for him, everyone girl he looked at and flirted with just seemed like the next.

“Oh I am glad to hear you do not shop at Malkin’s,” he said with a turn up of his nose. “Do tell me you purchase things from the Magique Couture?” Emmett looked Neely over as she seemed the type to wear such finery. “That amazing French line that finally appeared in England. I do hope you were partial to the work before it was brought over here.” Yes Emmett knew fashion and French fashion especially, he was fascinated with his heritage from France after all it was where he was born, sadly his French was indeed so poor which was why he attend Hogwarts and not Beauxbatons.

“You know I whole heartedly agree with that, most boys are just so sloppy with the way they dress.” Emmett prided himself on his appearance. He believed to have a proper appearance, one that was well put together and stylish made for an even better chance of proper networking. “I am sure they could get the girl easily if they only learnt to dress well and maybe cook.” Emmett grinned that smug sexy grin as he spoke.

Astrid, a snicker escaped his lips. “I would suggest with your cousin to do a complete overhaul.” Emmett laughed, but did not move from his prime seating for that view down her skirt and his fingers on her thighs. “Like those tights need to go, but before those go I suggest the mop of hair that she has. Dreads were never a good fashion statement.”

Neely bit her tongue, on the verge of gossiping about George Carter, whom she rather didn’t mind, but who had laughed at her misfortune in Divination class this week. Being paired with Trent Travis was possibly the most tragic thing to happen to Neely in two years. (Excepting, of course, the environmentally-devastating Iced Hot Cocoa and Pumpkin Juice Spills of 2008). “Well you won’t have to worry about that,” Neely assured him, undoubtedly playing right into the palm of the boy. Emmett might not have cared about school in the same way Sasha did, not Neely still tended to think most cool seventh year Slytherins were frightfully gifted. (Trenchcoat/Tator Tot Travis the Greaseball aside). Furthermore, the fact that Emmett wanted to start his own business was equally impressive.

“I could help with the decorating!” Neely announced, already getting ahead of herself. “Or... I know some people,” she added more slowly, coolly, grinning mischievously at Emmett. “Anyway, I think we need some place like that in England. Way nicer than any of the pubs in Diagon Alley, but chicer than Madame Puddifoot’s.” An excellent analysis, if she were allowed to say. “What’s your favorite thing to bake?” She whispered loudly, as if he might share some exclusive secret.

“Mmhmm, it’s a must.” Magique Couture was a staple in the Woolfolk fashion diet. “Something about the way the French cut the material... they really know what they’re doing with their wands.”

A boy who dressed well and cooked well? Those were specifications that were near impossible to find. Though, undoubtedly, Neely felt she had lucked out. Her favorite Ravenclaw was well dressed, and rumor had it he owed her a cup of cocoa. (Though, Neely being Neely, would leave the serving to the elves.)

Neely nodded in agreement, breathing in a little more sharply than usual as Emmett’s fingers roamed. It was terribly hard not to remain transfixed, but Neely reminded herself she was a genius multitasker (mmhmm). She wrinkled her nose and laughed. “I’m trying to convince her to go for a more organic look. Definitely a change of hair. Girls should have hair they can run their fingers through...” Or that boys could run their fingers through. (Even if it resulted in whines of protest from those who spent hours styling and applying the proper potions). “She’ll look taller if we take away the obnoxious patterns on her legs.” There was a place and time for tights; Astrid went about it all wrong.

“I am pleased to hear you have such faith in me,” he said coolly into her ear. To think she was so excited by such a simple thing as opening his own business. It was good to know it was some sort of reaction could be reached by announcing such a fact. He hoped the fact he could cook a good meal could attract a young woman and make them swoon. Apparently, from the information of older men, women did not grow to learn the value of such a talent until they were older. The only thing that made Emmett think was that he was able to sweep older women off their feet with his food, something he had yet to try. Still thinking about such things was no his plan at the moment, he was determined to give Neely as much attention as she could handle. Whether she was with that boy Sasha or not, he still wanted to make her nervous and filled with butterflies.

“Of course I want you to decorate, or at least help,” he said brushing some hair over her shoulder the tips of his fingers gliding over the skin of her neck. She smelt brilliant, he was almost tempted to ask her what brand of shampoo she used, but felt it would ruin the effect he was trying to give off. “I definitely agree with you on that one, we do need something like that in Diagon Alley.” He moved his hand back to her leg, it having moved only to brush some hair over her shoulder. “My favourite think to bake,” he paused for the dramatic effect of thought, “I do like baking Tort, really I love baking in general.” He grinned, “Especially chocolate dishes,” he smiled. He looked her over, “You know you should come back with me so you can lick…” he left the word floating for a moment as his fingers lazily moved along her thigh again. “the spoon,” he finished.

“Yes definitely a more organic look is need,” he smiled. He moved his hand from her leg and slid his fingers through her hair. “Boys do love hair they can run their fingers through.” Emmett spotted for a moment as his fingers were part way through her hair. He leaned ever so close his lips hovering closer to hers. “If you gave her hair like yours it would mean she would almost be acceptable to talk too.” He said with a flash of a smile as he pulled away from her a bit.

Who wouldn’t? She wanted to ask, but her lips on twitched. Perhaps trembled was the more appropriate and romantic word. It was totally a Witch Weekly Creative Nonfiction Adjective. Totally.

It was a strange thing for a girl to reply to, because it was the exact sort of thing that brought on warring feelings. On the one hand, Neely thought anyone with a brain would have faith in Emmett Rideau. She also loved to think that swarms of girls would be jealous of this intimate moment they were sharing on the couch. Probably half of the upperclassmen Slytherin female population (at least) had daydreamed about a scenario just like this one. But Neely’s own jealous side wanted Emmett to be her own little secret; she wanted him to be the underdog for whom she alone rooted, and by whom she was generously rewarded. The comparison to the supermodels she’d always fancied wasn’t that far-fetched. Really.

“What are you going to call your business?” She murmured in reply, hoping to both be the recipient of very private information, and also to steer away from the more dangerous topics of conversation. She had a boyfriend.

Boyfriend. Boyfriend. Boyfriend. Remember the Ravenclaw!

More goosebumps emerged in Neely’s skin as her fingers traced it. The neck was the most sensitive spot, everyone knew that! It was like her late-night diary entries were coming to life. She had to remind herself to keep a pulse and continue breathing, lest she drop dead in front of Emmett Rideau. Who wanted her to decorate his business.

Oh, golly...

Grinning foolishly, as if in a daze, Neely felt her heart flutter again. “Chocolate anything is my favorite!” She had cocoa everyday, didn’t she? “And I would love to lick your--” Uh-oh. Blushing suddenly, Neely looked down at her lap. She’d suddenly caught the bashful bug from Sasha, it seemed. Her eyes slid sideways, trying to concentrate on the boy’s face. “I would love help you in the kitchen,” she corrected herself impishly, almost bobbing her head with a certain Neely-ish sass in an attempt to recover.

When he leaned in for the kill, so to speak, Neely was convinced it was going to happen. She didn’t even pause to consider the consequences. She would have kissed him back, right there, for at least a good three seconds before she remembered the other boy’d she enjoyed kissing that summer, and whom she’d hoped to kiss more often this semester, on private property and in public places alike. But Emmett was only teasing her this time, and Neely’s pink cheeks only became more obvious when he pulled away. “You’re terrible,” she accused, thought not convincingly. How could she stay angry with him. She ran her fingers through her own hair, as if rearranging it after he’d touched it. But she’d liked the feeling, and the linger light-headedness it induced. A guilty smile settled in this time, and shifted a bit so that she was facing him more properly. “I think you should bake me something right now so I have food for thought before I talk to Astrid about that hair.”