Juliette skimmed the warmth of the librarian’s neck, her mouth meeting his skin just barely in little caresses, like tiny strawberry candies, there and then gone, too sweet to last. She poked her wand (retrieved from the desk before they’d abandoned Landis’ office for a more appropriate niche of the castle) at the immaculate table beside her, which was upset only by the three-quarters empty decanter and pair of stemmed glasses. The men’s watch she’d lain out-- an heirloom from her grandfather, which she often war despite its masculine shape and size-- read ten until the hour (in Wizarding symbology, of course).

The redhead laid back, stretched her shoulders down and pressed her fiery cloud of red into the pillow. She stared up at the ceiling, but pointed her wand at the window, drawing the curtains. Sun flooded the room. Juliette blinked only once.

Another wand wave, and elf appeared out of nowhere. The potions mistress seemed entirely unbothered by her own out-of-place position in Mr. Morgan’s bed. The elf fidgeted, but pretended not to notice. Clearly it did not want to cross either of them.

“Espresso, please,” she ordered, sitting up on her elbows, shaking out her hair. “A dash of milk and two sugars.” She wrapped a sheet around herself, pulling it from between the blankets and the blond man beside her. If Landis had lain claim over it, Juliette pretended to be none the wiser. She climbed out of bed like a mummy, and the elf stood back, bowing to hide any sign that it was unfamiliar with bare human flesh. Juliette had grown up around elves, and surely the ones at Hogwarts spent plenty of time whirling in and out of washrooms and arguing with Greek paintings.

She found her dress on the floor and gave it a small kick. “Also, bring fresh garments from my quarters. Do you want coffee, Landis? ...Landis?” She glanced over her shoulder. She knew he disliked it, her coffee, but was forever trying to disturb his tea habit at breakfast. Sleeping with him made it no different.

---

Five minutes, two croissants, one coffee, and one tea later, the pair were traversing down the sloping lawns in front of the castle. They reached the gate with barely any time to spare, and Disapparated to the outskirts of the expansive Irish estate.

"The press must get creative with trespassing," Juliette noted, surveying the seemingly endless property. If they were anything like Juliette's own proud, Pureblood family, they did not take kindly to strangers. Given Declan's demeanor, it was safe to assume. But then Juliette also wondered... "Why do you think Declan didn't inherit this place?" She asked plainly. She had not, like Landis, attended Hogwarts, nor had she kept up with most of the news circling the English uppercrust. But she knew as well as any woman of her class did that the men garnered the gold. (The women were there to make sure they didn't squander it, her grandmother had said.) She couldn't help but bitterly think that this woman, this Liadán, would do nothing to help the big name proprietresses of their world, what with the chaos now mounting on her farms. But then it was important not to think either of them victims. Keep your head, Juliette.

Fortunately Landis required very little preparation time, no matter how he lingered over breakfast in bed; they should have won some sort of universal award for efficiency in the short time it took to switch from "lounging lovers" to "professionals." Of course, it wouldn't be so easy to shuck off memories of the night before - and Landis certainly didn't want to - given the extra amounts of distraction Juliette was now capable of inspiring.

It wouldn't do to let her know that, however.

"The press must get creative with trespassing."

"No doubt," Landis agreed, with a slant of a smile as he looked out over the farm. It was endless, well plotted... productive. Not his kind of thing, but potions ingredients had to come from somewhere.

A casual inquiry about Declan's place in all this - something a native socialite would not have had to ask. But of course, she was not native.

"He was meant to," Landis said, short, succinct, his tone as flat and informative as it were a history lesson he was divulging rather than the Deputy Headmaster's sordid past. In a way, it was. "He was disinherited when he was 15, for carelessly divulging family secrets that led to his father's arrest." The incident was burned into Landis' memory. Purebloods everywhere had used Declan's story as a morality tale, a threat, a never do what he has done. Landis' mother had been the one to warn him with a white-knuckled grip on his adolescent arm, as if she or his father in their boring little lives had ever done anything worth arresting. It was a lesson he'd learned as he'd seen the way Declan was treated at school, the way society shunted him out and he lost everything. Landis had remembered, and applied it far beyond simple family secrets. "Indirectly, he betrayed his family. The farm went to his sister instead. A capable woman." He hesitated, as if remembering what he knew of Liadan O Morain. "Strict, well-bred... traditional. I'm sure news of tainted ingredients will not be taken kindly. The O Morains are a touchy lot."

((I couldn't tell from the posts if they had owled ahead, so I am assuming they've arrived unannounced. Especially if they are coming from the fields and not to the front door.))

Liadan's ears perked as she finished tying her shoe. The scurrying feet of her elves could be heard long before the slid into the back room which would empty her out onto the castle grounds.

"Alarms," one breathed out. "Someone- on the grounds. Coming from the back." The elf then crumpled to the floor, sobbing, as though it had done something wrong. Liadan rolled her eyes. House elves were always so dramatic about things. Especially hers.

The witch grumbled. "More reporters no doubt," she snapped. "Very well- that will be all. Let nobody into the house," she commanded. "Badge or no badge- it is not to happen." Not after what had happened with than nosy investigator had barged into her house to question her about ridiculous goings on. She finished tying her shoe, dropped her skirt over her feet, and stepped outside. She saw bright blue sparks along the edge of the property in the back- close to the unicorn enclosures near the forest.

She flicked her wand, and appeared with a very loud pop near Landis and Juliette. She gave a thin lipped smile. "Good morning," Liadan greeted. "I trust the two of you have a very good and very valid for trespassing onto my property? As much as I do hate the wizarding authorities, I am not above alerting them to your presence if I find your answer displeasing. Nor am I above apprehending you in the mean time." She must look quite silly in such casual wear, such a small witch claiming she could apprehend two people. But Liadan was not a witch to be underestimated. Anyone who remembered her from Hogwarts (or had heard of her common hexings of her dates upon graduation) would know as much.

"Propriety would dictate coming to the front door if you have business with me," she added coldly. "It is unsafe to be in the animal pens, as we have yet to discover the problem behind the mysterious illness. Should you contract an incurable magical malady, it will be due to no fault of my own."

outfit

Juliette pressed her lips together pensively, listening to the tale of Declan's disgrace. She'd never known, would never have guessed by the way he carried himself. He seemed a respectable and ambitious man-- but then she supposed there was no reason he couldn't be. She was hardly her parents' own heir, and her mother fussed over her headstrong ways with vigor enough. True, she'd never sent a parent to prison, but...

The lady of the house presented herself in a swirl of black decadence and silky doll curls. She looked younger than Juliette, who herself did not look quite her age. Juliette glanced her up and down, wondering what era had swallowed the woman and which time turner had spit her back out in the twenty-first century. Apparition was nothing new, but even someone who had grown up with it could blink more than was natural when such a vision appeared against a sprawling, secluded land.

Her own outfit was, by comparison, much less conservative, even in the melting winter and unforgiving Irish terrain.

"We are not trespassing," Juliette said quietly, after a moment's evaluation. She stepped forward, her arm reaching behind her reflexively, covering Landis' own forearm with moon-pale fingers. This one required a lady's touch. "I'm Juliette Vaillancourt and this is Landis Morgan. We have come to speak with the owner of these farms. You, I would assume?" She did not tilt her head, did not hesitate to carry on, despite the threats of apprehension and shame of misconstrued social conduct. "I have brought you a gift, Mademoiselle. It would seem more incriminating of the Ó Móráins than of us. But jail us if you will. I'm sure the Board of Governors would scramble to have their esteemed librarian and newly appointed Potions Mistress freed. They're good friends with the newspaper staff, or haven't you heard?" She asked calmly, her voice all sugar and acid.

And then, more sincerely: "We want no aurors and no bad press for you, either, rest assured. I have a job to do, and it does not concern the Ministry. I'm here for my students, however many of them might learn well from a dose of poisoned Veritiserum. I'm terribly sorry, but your farms are hard to find on the maps-- how are we to know where the front ends and the animal keeps begin? It's an impressively huge plot of land."

Then, turning to Landis, she waited for him to speak, as if his thoroughbred resume might somehow add fuel to her own fire. "Mr. Morgan has assured me you're the most respectable of witches in the business," she lied. "Your brother is a perfectly lovely colleague of mine, too... but it would seem you have a certain flare of your own." She grinned, baring teeth. She could recognize a threat-- and a woman due unfeigned compliments-- when she saw one. "Invite us in? We won't stay long."

They had barely been on the property a minute when Liadan O'Morain swirled into life in front of them, ordering an explanation for their intrusion and every inch the formidable female powerhouse despite her less formal attire.

Still, Landis did not take kindly to causeless accusations of trespassing nor high-handed threats. His eyes narrowed, his stance shifted infinitesimally. How very rude. And for each demanding word, for the brief litany of prosecution she offered them, he drew himself up a little bit more. By the end of her icy tirade, his back was so straight and his posture so exact that even the iron-faced portraits of his ancestors would have been impressed. Prickly, prickly purebloods - he was not consciously competing with Liadan's own arrogant superiority, but nevertheless he was doing a fine job of it.

But he acquiesced the field to Juliette at the touch of her warning hand; as the proprietor of the potions rooms and all their stock, this visit was for her benefit. He was just the escort, asked along for fellow feeling or because of their shared explosive experience of the tainted ingredients. Perhaps even for the benefit of his pureblood name, Landis wasn't sure. (He hadn't asked.) And the subtle unsheathing of claws intrigued him; he admired Juliette's acid tongue. With the connoisseurship of one stewed all his life in an environment of mild manipulation and biting politeness, he cast a critical eye at her form and did not find it wanting. A little heavy handed with the mention of the newspaper, perhaps, but that could be attributed to mere different tastes.

And then to dash it with a touch of flattery - yes, very nice, with a much more sincere delivery than he could have managed, he who tended to think of everyone as idiots until proven otherwise.

She turned slightly to the side to accommodate him, and he nodded in acknowledgement. But then - ahhhh, she shouldn't have mentioned the brother. Landis hastened to speak after Juliette's compliment, uncertain as to how Liadan would react to the reminder of her shamed erstwhile sibling. Still, in fitting both with Juliette's crisp reply and his own frosty nature, his tone was respectful but hardly apologetic.

"We sent you an owl stating our intentions; did you not receive it?"

She hadn't responded, that much was true. But then Landis had written it late and sent it the day before, under the assumption that such an informal professional visit did not warrant an owl weeks in advance. They had come during business hours, and should they be unwelcome, they could always be turned away.

Not trespassing? Liadan rolled her eyes. "Perhaps you are mistaken on the definition of trespassing," she commented. But fell silent as introductions began, and she mentioned a bringing a gift. Oh the arrogance of French purebloods- Liadan was accustomed to it, her mother had come from a French family, and now that side of the family was all that she had left. The threat was not well received, and it did nothing to improve Liadan's opinion of the two people who had decided to take it upon themselves to apparate into her farmland. "I am going to assume it is not your intention to threaten me so carelessly in my own home," she said. "If it is, then I've nothing to say to either of you that won't find me in an Azkaban cell."

She smoothed her dress one more time for measure, listening as the woman continued to speak. "It is meant to be hard to find, I do not conduct business from my home. It is inappropriate for a young witch to entertain business partners in her private quarters, especially when the vast majority of those partners are male. I have a reputation to uphold." Especially if she were to ever locate a decent husband. Rumors about her sleeping with business contacts could not be risked.

Liadan scoffed loudly when Vaillancourt mentioned her brother. "Declan, lovely?" she questioned. "Your judgment must surely be skewed if you could think that of such a treacherous little leech. I have no association with him for good reason, I suggest any witch or wizard who prides themselves on their heritage to do the same." Though Liadan would have to privately admit his fate was a well deserved one. The brother she had known when she was young would have been disgusted to think he would have to teach one day, and work for anyone other than himself. "He will poison the minds of every respectable young pureblood there. It is surprising to me that the adults who remember his prior actions have not sought to rectify the situation. If he is still employed when I have children, they shall never grace the halls of Hogwarts."

When the man mentioned that he had sent an owl ahead, Liadan felt a tad ridiculous. "Indeed, I have not received it," she told him. "Owls often get lost attempting to locate my home. Or perhaps it fell ill like the others on my land and shall never arrive to another destination again." One could hope.

"You will have to forgive my unwelcoming behavior. It has been a rough few weeks, and more often than not those who trespass are here for reasons not at all related to business. I've been chasing off reporters left and right who want nothing more than to snoop around in the hopes of finding some incriminating evidence the ministry might have missed. An undoubtedly pointless and fruitless task." If the ministry could find nothing incriminating, the general public certainly could not either.

She did not want to invite them in, though, simply because the other woman had told her to do so. But Liadan would do it anyway, she would just be sure not to treat them as well as she would guests who announced themselves and did not make a first impression by throwing around threats. "Come then, it is a long walk." Liadan did not bother to ask any more about their business. If they had something to say, they could do it without her prodding.

A few more words, and Juliette realized her mistake. Biting back her pride, she nodded sagely. She would have to be more tempered with this one, would have to tiptoe. Landis seemed to calm the tides between the two women, and the redhead dared not speak another word of Declan.

Nor did she smirk, snort sardonically, or offer a biting laugh at the lengths to which miss O Morain protected her own maidenhead. If it was how the woman wanted to live, it was no harm to Juliette. (Though she was plenty fine with her own newest turn with Landis Morgan). Perhaps there was a certain genius in it, playing the virgin in white who sent unruly guests off to Azkaban and eschewed unworthy men. It must have brought in a wave of old society prudes and prospective husbands. Foolish men, who would buy enough to stock to pay back Liadan's dowry thrice, and still find themselves rejected by the petite blonde. Yes, she was one of these Slytherin alumni Juliette had come to recognize so well.

"No, please, forgive us," Juliette offered, raising a hand at last in... not forfeit, surely, but truce. "The Ministry can be a headache, no doubt. It is why I'm so insistent on founding out what happened to my ingredients stock. Not that I believe you intentionally sold the school anything less than Grade A. I know your farm's reputation."

She offered one brief glance to Landis, and then followed along, careful to stay behind their hostess.

Liadan reacted as Landis had thought she would at the mention of her brother. He understood why, could even agree. Personally, he found Declan good company, but from a pureblood point of view he was only disgraceful. If such dishonor had come from his own family... well. It would be even worse, then. Landis did not think he could dislike his brother any more than he already did, and so he understood the sentiment even without the public shame, but Liadan's reaction was appropriate for an Ó Móráin.

But as stiff-lipped as he could be, he wasn't so conservative. A blonde eyebrow raised at Liadan's declaration: "If he is still employed when I have children, they shall never grace the halls of Hogwarts." Well, all right, he wouldn't be too thrilled with his erstwhile brother poisoning the minds of his potential children either, but... private tutors for the Ó Móráins, he supposed. Or Durmstrang, something far, far away and much more stringent about their acceptance policy. He could warm to the reasoning behind that.

Hopefully Juliette had learned her lesson about mentioning Declan.

Landis offered a smile. He knew her type, the family itself as well. They were all insanely, coldly proud, very formal, very traditional. Elsewhere Liadan's control could be challenged - Landis could be just as cold, just as scathing, for her abysmal treatment of the two was reason enough to flaunt and bristle his own pureblood pride. The lack of respect she offered them would never have been allowed to happen to herself. But this was her property and her home, and he and Juliette would have to be the ones who conceded all fault. He prepared himself with most contemptible weariness to fall into the roll of a lower caste, to be apologetic and amiable in his business manner, and did not for a minute expect her hospitality to improve.

"Don't worry. We are not such mongrels, here to snoop."