#murphy mcnully x katriona cassiopeia

[lifeofkaze]

A Search for Balance

CHAPTER 24: CROSS THE LINE

Find the masterlist with all chapters of this story here, the previous chapter here, and the next one here.

Tagging: @flareshogwarts

A/N: Katriona Cassiopeia belongs to my wonderful @kc-and-co

Orion had never minded being on his own, but with the prospect of spending Christmas with no one but his dismal thoughts for company, he had accepted his friends Murphy and Katriona’s invitation to their house in Kenmare gladly. 

Lizzie’s decision to return to Matthew had caught him unaware, to put it mildly. After her fight with Skye with Kenmare, she had picked up her bag and left without another word, and Orion had waited for her to come and talk to him in vain. When he had seen her next, she had been by Matthew’s side, his hand on her back and her engagement ring flashing on her hand. 

Katriona and Murphy were doing their best to distract him from his brooding thoughts, but Orion found it hard to share their festiveness, and kept mostly to himself. But giving his friends space was only part of the reason for his self-imposed solitude; every time he saw them stealing kisses under the mistletoe or cuddling up on the sofa, he was reminded of Lizzie and what he had foolishly thrown away, and every time, it hurt a little more. 

The end of the year came with rain and thunderstorms. Like most evenings, Orion was sitting on the ground in front of this window, listening to the heavy drops patter against the glass. It was a peaceful sound, and Orion was doing his best to capture the feeling, but in his head a storm matching the one outside was raging. He thought of the raindrops falling from the sky, how they were whipped about by the merciless winds. They had nothing to hold onto, to steady themselves. All they could do was fall. 

A knock on the door broke him from his gloomy thoughts. 

“Orion?” Katriona’s voice sounded from the other side. “Can I come in?”

The door opened and Katriona entered the room, a tray with two steaming mugs floating behind her. She cast a searching look around, shaking her head when she spotted Orion sitting on the floor. 

“I spent a fortune on the furniture, just so you know. Here,” she held a bronze, owl-shaped mug out to him, “everything’s better with some eggnog. Don’t worry, it’s vegan.”

Orion arched his eyebrows but accepted the mug anyway. “I wouldn’t exactly call eggnog vegan.”

“Just say thank you.”

The corners of Orion’s mouth twitched as he blew against his drink. “Thank you.” 

Katriona took the second cup - this one in the colours of the Caerphilly Catapults - and sat in the armchair next to the window. Both of them were quiet as they drank. A warm feeling soon spread through Orion’s body, and not only from the eggnog. Katriona’s presence calmed him; no matter how strong the storm was he was weathering, her friendship always was a fire to find shelter at. 

“Don’t think I didn’t notice you leaving night after night,” Katriona said after a while. “Do you want to tell me what’s bothering you?”

Orion contemplated her question, then shook his head. “I only wanted to give you and Murphy space to enjoy the Christmas you had planned.”

“Don’t worry, we’re enjoying it alright,” Katriona giggled, the slight flush on her cheeks telling Orion that this wasn’t her first eggnog of the night. Her chuckle faded as she set her cup aside. “Orion, I’ve known you for half my life. I can see that something’s wrong with you. More than usual, that is.”

Despite himself, her teasing made Orion laugh. “With the light of your friendship shining through the winter storm, how could there be anything wrong? I feel better just for knowing that you’re here.”

Katriona hummed in response. “But I’m not the one you wished were here right now, am I?”

Orion’s smile dropped. “No.”

“No?” Katriona said after waiting for him to continue. “That’s it, nothing more? You’re worse off than I thought.” She slid from her armchair and sat on the floor with him, gently touching his arm. “I’m here for you, you know that. Whatever it is, you can tell me. I’ll only judge you a little.”

This time, Orion didn’t laugh. 

“I made a terrible mistake,” he told Katriona quietly, before filling her in on everything that had happened since his return. How he had found out that Lizzie was engaged, and the surprising disappointment that had come with it; her warranted anger at him, and how they had rebuilt their friendship until Orion wasn’t so sure that friendship was what he wanted anymore. 

When Katriona heard about what Matthew had done to Lizzie after finding her keepsakes, her mouth dropped open in outrage, and she sighed deeply at the part that had come after. 

“It was foolish to hope, I know,” Orion finished his report, “but being with her felt like nothing had changed, and I genuinely thought she felt the same. I don’t know how I could be so wrong.”

Katriona was quiet, contemplating what she had heard. 

“I don’t think you were wrong at all,” she said eventually. “Lizzie changed after you were gone. We all thought fame had gotten to her head, but from how you describe it, it sounds like the old Lizzie is still in there somewhere.” 

Orion shook his head. “It’s not our place to judge who Lizzie has chosen to become. The only one she needs to be at peace with is herself. Only because the sun shines on us differently, doesn’t mean that she herself has changed.”

His voice had taken on a bitter ring. “The line I shouldn’t have crossed was plain for me to see, yet I did it anyway. I never stopped loving her, but by the time I realised it, it was too late for me to turn back. Asking for a second chance was gambling with fate, and here is what I got from it.” 

There was a short pause before Katriona snorted audibly. “Are you even listening to yourself? You’re sitting here in your room, whining about your fate over vegan eggnog as if there was nothing you could do about it.”

Orion frowned. “The universe -”

“Screw the universe,” Katriona said vehemently. “Love isn’t a Bludger you have to dodge. You’re a Chaser, so go and chase after what you want. If you want to be with Lizzie, you will need to fight for her.”

“It’s not me she wants.”

“Aren’t you?” Katriona asked. “Because from how I see it, it was you she came to when she didn’t know where to go. It was you who got her to be the Lizzie we all love again. And it’s definitely going to be you who will get whacked with my Beater’s Bat if you let her go without so much as trying. You two, you aren’t finished with each other, and don’t tell me otherwise.” The look on her face softened. “Trust me, Orion. The odds of finding love like yours are so small. You can’t just give it up like this.” 

“Easy for you to say.” 

Katriona’s eyes narrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“The love story between you and Murphy is one for the ages,” Orion explained, hating himself for the jealousy rising in his chest. “Your love burns so brightly that it eclipses everything. It always has, long before you even knew it. The moment you two met on the Quidditch pitch your stars aligned, and that never changed. Your story was always fated to be happy.”

Katriona set her mug down on the carpet with a heavy thump. 

“Listen here now, Mister,” she snapped. “I’ve sat and listened to your whining and convoluted nonsense for the better part of my evening, but now you’ve crossed another line. Don’t you dare act like Murphy and I didn’t have our own challenges to overcome, because we bloody well did. 

“So what if we never doubted each other? Knowing you don’t want to be with anybody else doesn’t make spending two years apart any easier. Do you think it was easy for Murphy to be impartial when his colleagues at the Daily Prophet were talking about me? Do you think it was easy for me to give up my dream of being a Quidditch player so Murphy could go and live his?” 

She paused to catch her breath. “For him, I would do it all again in a heartbeat, but you weren’t even here for all of this. So don’t you ever dare to go and tell me again that Murphy and I had it easy.” 

Feeling the truth of her words, Orion inclined his head in apology.  “Forgive me. Over my own misery, I have forgotten that there can’t be light without a shadow.”

Katriona seemed content with his answer. “Murphy and I worked hard for our luck. Nothing good in this world comes from politely asking for it. Luck is earned by the choices we make and the things we deem worth fighting for.” 

She rose to her feet, collected their empty mugs on the tray and walked to the door. As she was about to close it behind her, she turned to Orion once more. 

“You said the line you crossed was plain to see. Here’s a little wisdom for you, for a change - from my own experience, the exciting parts are always those that lie beyond.” 

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #harry potter hogwarts mystery #quidditch #orion amari #orion amari x mc #lizzie jameson #murphy mcnully #katriona cassiopeia #balance series #search for balance #sfb

[mizutoyama]

Coffee & Commentary by @kc-needs-coffee : ✅

I said it before and I’ll say it again: KC and McNully are the OTP. If you like a lot of fluff with a little dash of angst, I highly recommend this fic!

#hogwarts mystery #hphm #other’s mc #katriona x murphy #katriona cassiopeia #murphy mcnully

[fiction-she-read]

From An Art of Balance by @lifeofkaze

I wonder what kept McNully so busy… @kc-and-co

#McNully and KC sitting in a tree… #from: an art of balance #murphy mcnully #katriona cassiopeia #McNully x KC #orion amari

[carewyncromwell]

The Cinderella AU is back...and do I see the tiniest flicker of the main “Cinderella” storyline?? Yes! Yes, I believe so! 

Lord Malfoy’s outfit in this sketch is based on this design, though of course with a serpent cane like his one in the films because iconic!

Previous part is here -- whole tag is here -- Katriona “KC” Cassiopeia belongs to @kc-needs-coffee -- and I hope you enjoy! 

x~x~x~x

The palace of Royaume, meanwhile, had been turned almost completely upside down, with Andre’s return from the warfront. The Prince who in the past had entertained himself by making extravagant fashion while wistfully but passively wishing for more had seemingly grown up overnight. He put all of the incomplete masked ball outfits he’d been working on on-hold and arranged his schedule solely around checking on the soldiers at the front and on corresponding with the Florentine court. He’d even named KC as his chief ambassador, sending her to rendez-vous with Florence’s representative, Murphy McNully, at the border between the two rival camps several times. It was through their respective strategists that the Princes hoped to find a way to bring the War to an end, for although Andre was fully on-board with the idea, it was ultimately Andre’s father, the King of Royaume, who would be the one to say “yay” or “nay” to a treaty with Orion. 

“From what I gather from KC, the King is still incredibly mistrustful of us,” said McNully with a wry smile. “Apparently King Henri sees you as the ‘bad influence’ that coaxed his precious son to hop the fence.”

Skye snorted. “Like he needed much encouragement.”

“I do not regret whatever part I played in Andre opening up his heart to the idea of peace,” Orion said coolly. “A closed heart is an indicator of a closed mind.”

“Yeah, but I reckon saying that would probably decrease your chances of convincing King Henri we’re not a bunch of dishonest, black-magic-happy barbarians by a good 38%,” said McNully. 

Orion’s eyes drifted away vaguely as he trailed a hand along his neck, shifting his ponytail. 

“Was there...anything else KC told you?” he asked. His misty voice sounded casual, but almost purposefully so.

McNully cocked an eyebrow dryly. “Were you expecting something in particular?”

“I lack expectations,” said Orion vaguely. 

Skye rolled her eyes. “He’s asking whether KC mentioned anything about his lady love, McNully.”

Orion raised his eyebrows too, his black eyes narrowing slightly under them. “Was I? I must not have heard myself utter those words...”

He turned to McNully. “Regardless...did KC have any news of Carewyn?”

McNully frowned. 

“Apparently Lord Cromwell sent word to the palace, informing the King and Queen that she’s fallen ill and that she’ll be staying at the Cromwell estate until she’s better. Not to presume too much without hard proof...but I’d say the odds are good that Carewyn’s not sick.”

Skye’s eyes grew very grim. “Not unless you count grieving as illness.”

Orion closed his eyes, his eyebrows knitting together as he tried to obscure his anxiety. 

Oh, Carewyn...for you to be facing your beast alone...

He longed to throw off his doublet, snatch up a horse, and ride over the border without hesitation. But with the burden of Florence’s leadership now solely on his shoulders, he knew he couldn’t leave.

McNully rolled his chair over to Orion, resting a hand on top of his friend’s arm to show some reassurance. 

“The sooner we make peace with Royaume, the easier it’ll be for you to see her again,” said McNully. 

Orion exhaled through his nose in a sigh and nodded. 

He knew McNully was right. There was only so much he could do for Carewyn from a distance. But, he slowly thought, perhaps there was a way for him to tackle both his problem with the King and his desire to see Carewyn again at the same time...

Although Orion was a man who was never truly meant to be king and truthfully would’ve been far happier if he never was destined to become one, it could not be said he didn’t have an astounding talent for it, despite his peculiarities. 

For one, Orion decided to approach the problem of King Henri not wanting to negotiate with him by sending out a special message to the Royaumanian palace, which invited the King, Queen, and Prince -- as well as the entire rest of the Royaumanian population, courtier and peasant alike -- to attend a special masquerade ball celebrating his coronation the following week. As McNully explained, everyone in Florence would be attending as well, and the event would be a celebration not just of Florence’s winter traditions, but also Royaume’s -- for Orion had caught wind that the Queen already hosted a masked ball every New Year’s, just as Florence hosted plenty of parties around the Winter Solstice. 

When McNully read aloud Orion’s message, the King and Queen of Royaume, as well as their entire court, were stunned speechless. This, however, gave Andre the opportunity to sweep right in and accept it, without hesitation.

“Inform his Highness, Crown Prince Cosimo, that we accept his invitation,” he said in a very authoritative voice.

The royal courtiers all did a double-take. Iris, who’d still been staying at the palace as a guest, had to stifle her appalled squeak behind both of her hands, not unlike how Carewyn often tried to restrain her laughter. 

The King sputtered. “W-what?!”

“Henri,” the Queen said to her son, her eyebrows creasing with concern, “think reasonably...to cross the border into territory owned by our enemies -- it’s far too dangerous -- ”

“It would be, if that land were owned by our enemies,” said Andre very coolly. “But it’s not: it’s owned by a Crown Prince whose nation has been at War with ours for fifty years and now seeks to make peace. Prince Cosimo has extended an olive branch. It would be both dishonorable and counterproductive to refuse it.”

KC, her sapphire blue eyes narrowing slightly, quickly jumped in to play-act the voice of reason. 

“Your Majesties, Cosimo VII may be eccentric, but he was raised a peasant -- meaning he’s inexperienced with both royal protocol and military strategy. It’s highly unlikely he would even have thought of attacking us while you and Andre are in his country...especially since, from what I’ve heard from the war front, their troops have been pulled away from the border and back toward the capitol. And since everyone in Florence is slated to attend the event too, that would presumably include their soldiers.”

The King blinked. “But...if their troops have pulled back, then we should attack! Take advantage of their oversight and -- ”

“Father!” said Andre fiercely. “How can you even consider something so shameful?! To attack a country that currently poses no threat to us -- I would never have thought you’d suggest such a thing!”

To his credit, the King seemed to have come to the same conclusion at the same time as his son. He looked away, his mouth twisting into a very unsettled frown. 

“Dearest,” the Queen whispered anxiously, touching her husband’s arm, “what should we do?”

The King closed his eyes and sighed. Then he opened them again, looking at McNully with a very beady look. 

“...Very well. We do accept the invitation...and we shall forward it to everyone in our kingdom, just as the future King Cosimo has for his people. We sincerely hope that he will impress us.”

McNully gave a respectful bow. “I’ll be sure to pass that along to his Highness, your Majesty.”

He maneuvered his chair around so that he could roll out. As he left, he shot a covert, but bright white grin in KC’s direction, and she blushed slightly as she grinned in return. 

The royal family actually agreeing to attend the future King of Florence’s coronation ball sent shock waves through all of Royaume’s nobility. With Prince Andre passionately working to ensure that every peasant in Royaume had access to transportation to the event and the Queen ensuring that her yearly masquerade gown was completed sooner than usual, they were soon all put in the position that refusing to join the royal family at the coronation ball could potentially make them look disloyal, which could then threaten their positions at court. Charles Cromwell, for his part, was one of the first to agree to follow the King and Queen’s example and agree to attend the ball with his family, but he was not pleased about it. While lying on the cot in the locked room of the tower, Carewyn just barely caught the sound of Charles’s raised voice through her open window when he was haranguing Iris in his private study two floors below. 

“And as always, Iris, you fail to show any initiative when it actually counts! If you had managed to develop even half of the relationship that Carewyn supposedly did with the Prince, you might’ve had the leverage to counteract this...and yet a mere maidservant with a fraction of the benefits I have afforded you somehow has put you to shame!”

Although the King and Queen of Royaume and the rest of their citizens and royal court were very taken aback by Orion’s gesture, however, the citizens of Florence were thrilled about the news of their future King’s masquerade ball. There’d never been a party hosted at the palace for everyone before, especially not in the height of the War -- so this would be the first time many peasants would both be able to visit the palace and see their King in the flesh. Notices informing everyone that all would be welcome at the ball were posted up and circulated all over the kingdom, even in the smallest and most run-down border towns and settlements. 

Orion in general had already esteemed himself greatly to Florence’s peasantry within his first few days leading the nation. His move to coerce the nobles to pay the equivalent of a tax to ensure they maintained a voice at his court -- as well as him then using that money to buy enough food to buy complete, brand new uniforms for the entire army and give them enough good food that they ate better than they ever had in their lives -- was very well-received by the common man. As the nobility and the clergy had always been seen as exempt from all taxation or regulation, the cost of the War had largely fallen on the shoulders of Florence’s poor, and many peasants were smugly satisfied that there was suddenly a sympathetic voice for them poised to take the throne. 

As to be expected, however, the noblemen of Florence’s royal court were far less pleased -- none less so than Lucius Malfoy, who had both been exempt from taxes and had made a lot of money through inflating the costs of traded goods transported through war zones. Lord Malfoy was even less pleased when Orion summoned the court together to speak to them about the coronation ball. 

“My advisor Skye and I have just about finished making all the arrangements with the money I’ve set aside,” Orion told them, “but as before, any donations you all are able to spare would be helpful, so that we can make sure that every guest is able to make it to the event and eat to their heart’s desire. A bee can’t expect to find enough pollen needed to make honey from a sapling, and neither can I expect to pay for everything with taxes taken from the poor.”

“I must confess that your gathering is a touch ambitious, your Highness,” said Malfoy in a very dry smile. “It might be easier for you to afford everything, if you simply shortened the guest list.”

Orion clasped his hands in front of him on the table, his face very placid. “Normally I’d be all up for a smaller event with just close friends, Lord Malfoy...but this is not for myself. This is an act of diplomacy. With the King, Queen, and Prince of Royaume coming to attend the coronation, I want them and their citizens to see Florence for everything it is...and Florence is nothing without its people.”

He turned to the rest of the court. “This is a way you can give back to the people who’ve ensured your comfort and safety these last fifty years, as well as help our nation put an end to the War once and for all. A sentiment I know Lord Malfoy has expressed interest in, previously.”

Orion nodded to Lord Malfoy politely. Malfoy’s lips curled up in a tiny, decidedly cool smile. 

“Naturally,” he said. “But I’m afraid that my, as well as many others’, purse strings are already...tied up elsewhere.”

Orion raised his eyebrows, but his calm, patient expression didn’t shift. 

“As you know, your Highness, talented magicians are hard to come by, and their services do cost a pretty penny,” said Malfoy. “Just the shields around our properties alone cost a fair amount to maintain, considering they must be cast and recast every day. Then of course many of us have also commissioned illusions to be cast, so as to obscure any damage made by the enemy forces both to our estates and the neighboring towns. Considering that we’ll wish to make sure things look their best for our...guests from Royaume, as well, that cost is likely to go up even further.”

The rest of the court quickly nodded, though some did it out of cowardice, rather than sincere agreement. 

“Ah,” said Orion, his lips spreading into a small smile, “but we won’t be looking our best for Royaume.”

The court looked very confused. Malfoy frowned deeply. 

“What? But your Highness, you just stated that -- ”

“I said we would show Royaume everything Florence is, Lord Malfoy,” said Orion. “I don’t want any illusions cast over our towns and estates, to hide the damage their bombs have wrought. I want them to ride to the Florentine palace in their carriages and see the toll the War has cost us -- a toll that they as Royaumanians have been largely distanced from, since the War hasn’t been fought on their soil half as much as it has ours. And considering that I personally sent private invitations to every single magician in the country to make sure that they too got a night off to enjoy themselves after putting in such hard work,” he added with a slight twinkle in his black eyes, “I don’t think any of them will have time in their schedule to cast any shields or illusions anyway.”

The entire court looked stricken. 

“But your Highness,” Malfoy persisted, his eyebrows knitting together, “without our shields, what’s to protect our homes?”

“The entire Royaumanian army will be at the event right along with everyone else,” said Orion patiently. “What would you need to protect your home from, Lord Malfoy?”

Malfoy did not have an answer for this. Orion got to his feet, still clasping his hands in front of him. 

“Since all of you should have some spare funds at your disposal, now that you won’t have to pay for at least a day’s worth of spells if not more...I hope -- again -- that you’ll consider using that money to help me pay for the event’s catering and transport. I truly believe that the masquerade will be all the more entertaining for all of us if we come together and put in whatever work we can. Our poorer citizens are already putting in their hard labor -- if you wish to do that as well, I welcome it. But since many of you show your support with your purses, I’ll be grateful for that as well.”

He inclined his head respectfully.

“This meeting is adjourned. Please excuse me.”

With this, he turned his back and faced Skye, who’d come up behind him.

“Skye, could you please deliver these messages to the border?” he asked softly. He handed her a pair of envelopes with messily scrawled names on each one -- once his hands were free, he clasped them in front of him. “I was hoping our feathered friend might see they get delivered. Be sure to let him know he and his guardian are more than welcome to attend the ball as well, if they so wish.”

“Of course.”

“Thank you.”

Neither Orion nor Skye ever saw just how cold and hate-filled of a glare Lucius Malfoy shot over his shoulder at Orion as he departed. 

The two envelopes Orion gave Skye soon ended up in the hands of Talbott Winger. Both he and Baroness McGonagall, although appreciative of the sentiment, weren’t particularly interested in attending the ball themselves, but McGonagall passed along her highest regards to Orion all the same and Talbott agreed to pass on the invitations Orion had written. 

The first went to Jae and his band of Florentine bandits on the border. Jae had caught wind of the upcoming ball previously when Tulip and Tonks had recently visited one of the border towns, but it was clear that he was still quite touched that Orion made sure that they knew they were also more than welcome to attend. The yellow-hooded bandit gave the magician’s apprentice a bright, wry smile. 

“You may inform his Highness that we would be honored to attend his coronation ball,” said Jae, “and we are even more so, being represented by a royal who doesn’t fear those who steal from the rich to benefit the poor and hungry.”

The second envelope was addressed to Carewyn...and that message proved to be more challenging to deliver. 

Knowing the Cromwell estate was no place for him to just stroll onto, Talbott decided to Transfigure himself into a golden eagle once more and fly there. Once he’d arrived, he set about trying to figure out a way to pass the message to Carewyn, but she did not emerge from the manor once. Talbott flapped around the entire perimeter of the estate, peeking around into every bedroom window he could find, but could find no trace of her. It was only when Talbott was fortunate enough to overhear a conversation between Claire’s three daughters, Heather, Dahlia, and Iris, as they sat together in the front courtyard that he learned where he should look. 

“It’s all Winnie’s fault -- all of it!” Iris vented, her blue eyes flooding with angry tears. “She always steals the eye of every single guy in the room for no reason at all, without even trying! It’s not fair!”

“I know, Iris,” said Dahlia lowly, “but...well, you haven’t seen Winnie, since she got back.”

“Right,” Heather said rather meekly. “She didn’t do any of her duties, didn’t sleep, never ate or drank anything...she didn’t even say a word for a full two days. And when she did finally talk...”

She shuddered. 

“...I’ve never heard Grandfather sound so angry.” 

Dahlia also looked rather grim. “Honestly, I’d say Winnie’s probably glad that she’s locked up in the tower -- Grandfather would probably be taking out even more of his temper on her if she showed her face downstairs. I suppose it would be better her than us, but even so...”

With the information in mind, Talbott flew up to each tower, peeking into each one through the window until he found an open one at the back of the estate. Lying on the cot in the corner was a young woman with a familiar mane of ginger red hair.

Carewyn opened her eyes, startled, at the sound of a shriek. She raised her head, her tangled hair falling loose around her face as she shifted over to look out at the window, and she gave a start at the golden eagle perched on the sill.

“Talbott?” she croaked in disbelief.

The eagle gave another shriek, his sharp eyes locked on her face. 

Carewyn sat up. Closing her eyes, she swallowed back a wince as best she could in response to her injured back and draped the old torn blanket around her shoulders like a wrap in an attempt to obscure her wounds. 

No sense in upsetting Talbott, by letting him see...

She eased herself onto her feet gingerly so she could move over to him, her face very concerned and serious. 

“Talbott, you shouldn’t be here,” she whispered. “If you turn back into a human, I’d have no place to hide you until you could change yourself back...”

Talbott fixed her with a rather dull, chiding look and clicked his beak loudly the way someone might make a “tsk!” sound with their tongue. He then stuck out his leg to reveal the envelope he’d attached to it himself with twine before transforming. 

Carewyn’s eyebrows came together tightly. Very slowly she reached out her hands, gently removed the envelope from Talbott’s leg, and unrolled it. The name on the front was hers, and yet this messy, almost indecipherable handwriting...she didn’t know it. 

She opened the envelope, to find a smaller envelope inside with a note. The note was written in that same messy handwriting, but after looking over the unevenly spaced lines twice, Carewyn could more easily make out what it said. 

“Hard to see the light now...just don’t let it go.

Things will come out right now -- we can make it so.

Someone is on your side...

No one is alone.”

The familiar lines made Carewyn feel like her heart had seized up, unable to circulate any oxygen to her body and suffocated by the pressure. And yet, even with that lack of air flow, her heart also felt like it was growing, swelling to a size her chest could not contain. 

Orion. 

She didn’t even need a signature at the bottom to know that these words were his -- that these terribly uneven, clumsily written, nearly unreadable letters were his. He was the one who’d introduced the song to her -- he was the one who’d found solace in it, when stuck at a workhouse as a child. After becoming an orphan himself...

Carewyn couldn’t breathe, and yet her eyes were flooding with tears. She had to hide her face in her hands, dropping the open envelope and its contents to the floor, just to hold in her emotions. 

She’d pushed Orion away not just to protect him from her family, but because she didn’t think she was worthy of his caring. She still didn’t think she was...and she’d sort of thought Orion had realized it too. And yet here he was, caring all the same. Even though he should’ve resented her, for pretending to be a lady around him all that time -- even if he would never be able to reach her again or ever be with her, thanks to how enslaved she’d always be to Charles Cromwell -- even though he would soon become King of Florence...

He was on her side. 

He couldn’t be at her side physically, and yet she felt him there all the same. His gentleness, his idealism, his wisdom and good humor...the peace he brought with him...even despite the “beast” inside of him that made him so frightened and unsure of himself...

Carewyn shakily backed up and collapsed back on the cot, holding her face in her hands as she struggled in vain not to cry. But this time, rather than the tears being out of grief, these tears were of longing -- it was a release of emotion, one that moved her more than she could possibly express. And as she felt oxygen flooding her lungs again, all she could do with it was sing.

“Brother cannot guide you -- now you're on your own. Only me beside you...still, you're not alone. No one is alone...truly, no one is alone...”

Carewyn felt something cold and sharp enclose around her wrist. When she looked up, she saw that it was Talbott’s claw. The eagle looked up at her with an oddly empathetic look in his sharp eyes.

Talbott was an orphan too. He’d also gone through his fair share of heartache, after losing his parents and being misjudged by others for having magic. And yet he’d also come, to deliver Orion’s message...to show her support. The concern in Talbott’s eyes, even through all of the gruffness, brought back the memory of Bill, back at the Burrow. 

“...From here on out, I’m going to worry about you. Because I hate the thought of someone feeling like anybody else worrying about them is somehow a problem.”

Bill’s words brought back the memory of Charlie’s arms wrapped protectively around her neck to her mind; then Badeea expressing concern when she wasn’t singing while Iris was visiting; then KC counseling her about Orion when he first came to the palace; and finally Andre, at the Festival. 

“…I hope you know…Iris was wrong, about how I see you. I don’t just see you like a little dress-up doll. You’re my friend, and a good one, at that. And for what it’s worth…I’d say any royal should be proud, to have you on their arm.”

The thought of her friends made Carewyn feel so insignificant and unworthy. She’d never deserved the caring they’d shown her, and she probably never would. If she couldn’t protect her mother or Jacob, how could she ever take care of these wonderful people the way they so clearly deserved? 

And yet, even so, the warmth she felt in her heart, while thinking of them...of remembering lying in the grass with Orion and gazing up at the stars...it was a feeling she wanted to hold close to her chest and never let go of again. It was a feeling she wanted to experience again...just by being bathed in the sunlight of their company again, if only for one day. 

She could endure being a prisoner the rest of her life. She’d already known her freedom was lost to her. But surely her life couldn’t be wholly worthless, if she could still feel this kind of happiness, despite everything...

Carewyn found her lips curling up into a very small, sad smile as she wiped the tears from her face with her free hand. Then, smoothing her hair out of her face, she ran the back of her hand along the feathers of Talbott’s wing. (It was the only thing she could think of to do to show gratitude, since she couldn’t rest a hand on his shoulder and squeeze it.) 

“Thank you, Talbott,” she murmured.

The eagle’s eyes softened ever-so-slightly as he gently released Carewyn’s wrist. Then he hopped back over to the window and took off again into the air. 

Carewyn watched him fly away. Once the golden eagle was out of sight, she closed her eyes, took a deep breath in through her nose, and turned away from the window. 

When she returned her focus to the room, she noticed the discarded envelope and the note and second smaller envelope that had been inside were still on the floor. Bending down, she picked them up, placing down the large broken envelope and Orion’s note on her cot and sitting down so she could open the second.

Inside was a gold-trimmed white card with flawless penmanship that Orion most certainly didn’t write himself.

“Carewyn Cromwell, 

You are cordially invited to a masked ball at the Palace of Florence, hosted on the eve of December 17, in honor of the coronation of his Highness, Cosimo Amari VII, as Master and Commander of the Florentine Army, Lord of the Southeastern Sea, and King of Florence, and as a mark of good will from Florence and its citizens toward the nation of Royaume. All guests shall be dressed in formal wear and masks, the second of which will be removed once the ball has concluded. Your presence would be greatly prized by his Highness, the future King, and the nation of Florence will do all in its power to make you feel welcome. 

Signed,

Cosimo Amari VII,

Crown Prince of Florence”

Carewyn stared at the card for a long moment. She had heard snippets of her family’s discussion regarding Orion’s coronation ball through her open window and through the walls, but she’d known full well she’d never see it. Orion sending her an invitation to it seemed so completely pointless under the circumstances -- she would never be allowed to go in a million years. Even if she wanted to...even if the thought of seeing Orion again, if just for one night, would be enough to last her whole life long...Charles would never accept Carewyn going anywhere, after how she’d behaved. 

Even so...even with that logic in her mind, Carewyn still found herself holding the invitation close to her chest. 

Orion...

She opened her eyes slowly, and caught sight of herself in the mirror for the first time since she’d been carried upstairs. The sight of her tangled, matted hair and her tear-and-ash-stained face made her wince.

How could you have let anyone see you like this? she scolded herself bitterly. 

Hiding Orion’s invitation, note, and envelope securely under the cot, Carewyn got up and made her way over to the mirror so she could start cleaning herself up. As she did, she started to sing again, more loudly and with more strength. 

“Brother isn't here now...who knows what he'd say? Nothing’s quite so clear now...feel you've lost your way? You are not alone...believe me... No one is alone, believe me...truly...”

The quiet sound of Carewyn’s voice was heard throughout the manor, even though the walls made the words of the song hard to make out. Outside in the front courtyard, Claire’s three daughters all stiffened and looked up in the direction of the house upon hearing it. Tristan, who’d been moodily poking holes in the pages of the book his father bid him to read with his quill, stopped at once. Charles, who’d been drafting a letter in his study, paused mid-word, his almond-shaped blue eyes gliding over his ceiling as he listened intently to the notes. 

“You move just a finger, say the slightest word --  Something’s bound to linger...be heard. No one acts alone...careful -- no one is alone... People make mistakes -- fathers, mothers -- People make mistakes, Holding to their own...thinking they’re alone... Honor the mistakes everybody makes, One another's terrible mistakes... They could still be right -- they could still be good. You decide what's right -- you decide what's good. Just remember... Someone is on your side: someone else is not. While we're seeing our side, maybe we forgot They are not alone...no one is alone. Hard to see the light now...just don't let it go. Things will come out right now -- we can make it so. Someone is on your side... No one is alone.”

It was only about ten minutes after Carewyn had finished that the door to the tower room opened, to reveal Blaise standing in the door frame. 

“You’re singing again, I see,” he said rather curtly. 

Carewyn looked at her uncle’s reflection in the mirror as she finished smoothing her hair out of her face so she could tie it back in a ponytail with a ribbon. 

“Yes,” she said lowly. 

“Are you ready to behave, then?” 

“I am ready to return to my daily chores,” said Carewyn as neutrally as she could, “if Grandfather will allow me to start making amends for my past behavior.”

“Save it,” snapped Blaise. “I know full well you’re not the sort to play dead just to protect your own skin -- you’re not one of Claire’s children.”

Carewyn didn’t answer, instead tying the ribbon in her hair in a neat bow. 

Blaise considered his niece from behind carefully for a long moment. Then, his eyes flickering with something almost like discomfort, he spoke again. 

“...Jacob might not be here, but this remains your home, little Winnie,” he said very lowly. “No one will ever treat you better than we do. No one will ever protect you better than we can.”

The image of Bill stepping in front of her and standing up to Andre on her behalf fluttered over Carewyn’s mind. 

That’s not true, she thought. However much I don’t deserve any more than what you and our family have always given me...you’re wrong.

But she kept this to herself. Instead she turned to face Blaise, her face very stoic. 

“May I start my usual rounds?”

Blaise’s lips pursed slightly. “Yes.”

Picking up her skirts, Carewyn swept past Blaise out of the tower room and started down the stairs. As she went, her blond uncle spoke to her without turning around to face her.

“I expect you to sing every day, just as before,” he said in a haughty, cold voice that made him sound that bit more like his father, Charles. 

“Yes, Uncle Blaise,” Carewyn said in a very cool, demure voice. 

Without another word, she disappeared down the stairs so she could get to work on her own once more.

She might be a prisoner...but she didn’t have to act like one. She could still hold her head high and hold onto her pride. For even if she could never be free, there were birds that she could watch from her window and could bring her hope and joy. Ones whose freedom and happiness she could celebrate as her own, even if she herself could never be free and happy. Ones who, maybe, she might earn just enough freedom to be reunited with again someday.

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #cinderella au #carewyn cromwell #orion amari #lucius malfoy #skye parkin #murphy mcnully #blaise cromwell #talbott winger #jae kim #hope! hope! a flicker of hope! #carey bear still has a ways to go but at least she's learned to take strength from a source besides jacob #I love orion as defying-every-tradition-there-ever-was!king mmkay #orion bb you're doing great sweetie #I also loved putting some spotlight on the talbott/carewyn friendship even if it's in an AU #these two really are kindred spirits just like bill/carewyn charlie/carewyn and of course orion/carewyn are #even if the last of those is the only one that's romantic #hopefully the next part won't take as long #I already have the next two sketches done for the next two parts :D #but I do have work again now XD

[lifeofkaze]

A Search for Balance

CHAPTER 35: TOTAL ECLIPSE

Find the masterlist with all chapters of this story here, the previous chapter here, and the next one here.

Tagging: @flareshogwarts

A/N: Katriona Cassiopeia, as always, belongs to my favourite @kc-and-co

Deeming the company boring and the chances of intellectually stimulating conversation discouragingly low, Katriona and Murphy had passed on the Vernal Ball or - as they called it - the Ball of Veritable Boredom. They used the weekend to scoff over the nonsense in the Daily Prophet, see who could solve the weekly crossword faster, and engage in the obligatory fight for victory and honour on the Wizard’s Chess board.

The match had turned out to be frightfully even, so that by Sunday evening, the two of them were still pondering over how to best capture the other’s king, attention, or both. Katriona was on the verge of catapulting Murphy’s knight from the board when the fire crackling beside them suddenly roared up. She dropped her protesting queen with a yelp as the flames turned green, and Orion stumbled into the living room. Katriona needed only one look at his face to know that something had gone terribly wrong. 

“What happened?” she asked, gently brushing the ash off Orion’s shoulders. There was some dusting his dark hair as well, but with how taut his body was, she didn’t want to touch him any further.

Orion sat in the armchair Katriona manoeuvred him into without reply. When Murphy returned from the kitchen with fresh coffee and a steaming mug of jasmine tea, he accepted it but didn’t drink.

“Statistically speaking, there are too many possible causes to your distress for us to determine the correct one without guessing, even if we factored out fatal accidents, visible-to-the-eye injuries, and other things that would give us a clear pointer as to which direction we’re going,” Murphy said into the ensuing silence. “I mean, we could try, but that would take longer than having two blind Seekers hunt for a Snitch and…” 

Upon seeing the raised eyebrows of his wife, Murphy cleared his throat. “What I want to say is, it would really help if you talked to us.”

“My thoughts are swirling around me like clouds,” Orion shook his head, wrapping his hands around his painfully hot cup of tea. It hurt, but the stinging helped distract him from how the scent of jasmine made his head swim. “They obscure the skies of my mind, but when I try to catch them, they dissolve and form again. No matter where I look, I’m surrounded by mist.”

“Do you need a moment?” Katriona offered, gingerly taking the hot cup from him. “We can leave you alone until you’ve sorted out yourself.”

The look Orion gave her was grateful, but he rose to his feet regardless. He had often visited his friends in their home in Kenmare but never before had their four walls felt so suffocating. 

“Your offer is generous, but I think coming here was a mistake. I need to go back. I apologise for disrupting the flow of your evening.”

He had already moved past Katriona towards the fireplace when Murphy caught hold of his sleeve. “You’re always welcome here, no matter what. You don’t need to leave if you don’t want to.”

“Stay as long as you like,” Katriona agreed. “I’ll get your room ready.”

As soon as she had fixed up the spare room, Orion went there to be alone with his thoughts. Murphy and Katriona exchanged worried glances as he bid them goodnight, but otherwise, they let him be.

After a fitful night of barely sleeping, Orion got up at the crack of dawn. The house was quiet, still caught up in the stillness of the night, but next to his door, a surprise was waiting for him. It was Katriona’s old Comet 260, which she had flown during their time at school. A note was attached to the handle.

For balance.  Love, K.C.

The smallest of smiles stealing onto his features, Orion picked up the broomstick, the magic in the slightly worn wood responding to his touch. He carried it out into the garden and rose into the air. Katriona’s Comet felt unfamiliar compared to his Nimbus 2000, but he soon developed a feeling for how it swayed in the wind. Turning his focus on the inside, Orion stood and let the storm in him break loose. 

It took him the better part of the day to let his churning feelings settle. When the sun began to set, his muscles were screaming, but he finally felt at peace again. He began to notice how pleasantly the scent of flowers hung in the air, how it mixed with the earthy smell of grass and soil. The wind murmured through the new leaves of the trees, stirring his hair around his face, and somewhere in the distance, a blackbird sang its farewell to the parting day. 

“You’ve been out here for pretty long,” Katriona’s voice suddenly sounded from behind him. Orion turned his head to see her sitting on the roof, the window to her bedroom standing open. He turned her broomstick and flew toward her. 

“No matter how much you will it to be over, a storm ends in its own time. It will not be rushed.” 

“Don’t feel rushed all you like, but it’s getting dark.”

“I don’t mind.”

“It’s cold. You’re not even wearing shoes.”

Despite himself, Orion had to chuckle. “You don’t have to stay outside with me.” 

“But I’d like to. We don’t have to talk,” Katriona added hurriedly. “I’m just worried about you.” 

Orion sighed. “I appreciate the gesture, but a Glumbumble makes poor company for a Billywig.” 

Katriona was silent for a moment. “Did you just call me a fat, sad bee?”

“I did not.”

“An annoying blue bug, then. I feel offended.”

“What some deem annoying, others consider a beautiful and fascinating little thing. I’ve been told Billywigs have quite the sting.” 

“I’ll show you a bloody sting if you call me a bug one more time,” Katriona muttered, turning serious a moment later. “Jokes aside, you’ll catch a cold if you don’t come inside soon. We won’t push you, I promise. Just sit by the fire with us and watch me crush Murphy on the chessboard, like in the old times. How does that sound?” 

It was only when Orion entered the snuggly warm living room that he realised how cold he actually was. He was grateful for the warmth of the fire licking over his skin as he sat beside it with his icy feet tucked underneath him. 

“Feeling better yet?” Murphy asked, shifting from his wheelchair onto the sofa.

“More settled,” Orion decided after contemplating the question. “A problem met with a calm mind often already looks less daunting.”

“And does it?”

Orion sighed. “No.”

“The last time I saw you as shaken was in our sixth year at Hogwarts, I believe. We had just won the Slytherin match with a crushing margin, which set us up for winning the Cup that year, and we had that big party in the common room, which you left after a while, and -”

“As much as I admire your impeccable memory, please, can we not?” Orion spoke over Murphy’s rapid stream of chatter. “There’s times when silence speaks louder than words.” 

“Wisely said,” Katriona commented wryly. “Shame that Murphy is usually too loud to listen.” 

“What for?” Murphy countered with a laugh. “You give me way too many things to talk about.” 

“A drink on that,” Katriona rolled her eyes, but smiling as she did so. She ran her hand over Murphy’s shoulder on the way to her kitchen in a gentle but casual gesture that made a tender smile appear on her husband’s face.

Orion forced himself to look away. Murphy and Katriona had never been shy to express their affection openly; Orion had been there to see their love grow from a seedling into the beautiful flower it was now, and never once had he felt anything but happiness for the people who were like family to him.

“What’s wrong?” Murphy broke him from his train of thought.

Orion rested his eyes on the door through which Katriona had vanished. “Are you aware of how blessed you are to have found a woman like her?”

“Every single day,” Murphy smiled in response. “If that’s your way of saying that you’re jealous, tough luck, mate. I’m not sharing.” 

“I don’t think jealousy is what I’d call it, but what are words but smoke and mirrors?” 

Murphy looked surprised. “I was joking.”

“I know. I wasn’t.”

“Now, that’s awkward. I never thought Katriona was your type.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Orion said hastily, feeling the heat creep up his neck as Murphy’s meaning sunk in. “Katriona could never be more than my found sister-in-the-stars.”

“Then why would you be jealous?”

“Because of this,” Orion answered, performing a vague gesture with his hand. “What you and Katriona have built for yourself is so special that I sometimes wonder how you did it.”

“I’m afraid you lost me.”

“The harmony between you two is like nothing I have ever seen. You complete each other to a degree that I cannot imagine you being anything but two sides of the same Galleon, yet you never lost hold of who you are as individuals.” Orion’s voice tailed off, his face taking on a contemplative look. “What else could you strife for in life than being so fully and blissfully in the present as the two of you?” 

Orion’s words echoed inside his mind. To him, the bond between his two best friends was the very definition of what it meant to love someone. Murphy and Katriona were a respite for him, a reminder that there were things that could not be torn apart - not by life, fate, not even by their own dreams. 

He and Lizzie had been different. Orion had tried to deny it for the longest time until, eventually, their ambitions had torn them apart. He had regretted leaving her behind when he’d left, but what choice had there been? It would have only been a matter of time until Lizzie realised their love had been ill-fated from the start. 

He wasn’t what Lizzie needed. He would never be able to give her what she deserved because she deserved everything, and all that Orion had was nothing. He couldn’t be her rock, her hold through all the storms in life, and if she decided to lean on him anyway, she would regret it before long. He loved her, loved her with every fibre of his being, but what was love in the face of fate?

Orion was abruptly brought back from his musings when Murphy spoke again. 

“We used to say the same about you and Lizzie.” 

“Lizzie and I never were like you,” Orion sighed heavily. “From the moment we first found each other, the universe was against us. We were just too foolish to listen.”

“You can’t mean that,” Katriona said incredulously. She had returned from the kitchen without either of them noticing. “Merlin’s beard, Orion. You must be joking!”

“I’m not.”

“Have you learned nothing from the last time we talked? What did I tell you at Christmas?” 

“You told me a fair bit of things.” 

Both men jumped as Katriona smacked her hand onto the table. “I’m serious! I’m not going to let you throw away the love of your life just so you can wallow in self-pity and blame every bad thing in your life on some cosmic bullshit.” 

Orion made a hurt face. “Fate isn’t some bullshit, as you call it, and neither are my problems.”

“Yes, they are,” Katriona said hotly. “And I will keep telling you that if you don’t stop justifying your actions with cheap explanations like this. If you run from your fight now, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life. Fate is not what you’re given. Fate is what you make. Fate is a choice.”

“I appreciate you wanting to direct my life into channels you seem proper,” Orion said, quickly carrying on when he saw Katriona’s face darken, “but this isn’t your decision to make. If it allows Lizzie to lead the life she deserves, I won’t hesitate to put her happiness before mine.” 

Katriona looked like she wanted to shake him. “You talk about fate and doing the right thing for Lizzie as if that’s only up for you to decide. Have you thought about her for even a second?”

“I’ve never done anything else.”

“Really? Because the way I see it, no one has bothered asking her for her opinion on the matter. Or have you?” she asked, nodding grimly when Orion averted his eyes. “You keep saying how awful Matthew has been to her - and he has, don’t get me wrong - but you aren’t one bit better in that regard. You say you’re not good enough for her, but you’re not even offering her the option to decide that for herself.”

“She would never let me go,” Orion said sadly, “not even for her own sake.” 

“Then who are you to question her?” Katriona’s voice softened as she laid her hand on Orion’s arm. “It’s not for you to decide whether she wants to love you or not.” 

Orion pressed his lips together, fighting against the feelings rising in his chest. He removed his arm from Katriona’s touch. 

“We tried, and we failed, and every time we did, it caused everyone around us pain. We’re like sun and moon, destined to orbit around each other without ever being together.” His shoulders slumped as he leaned his head into his hands. “Accept it, just like I have done. Lizzie and I aren’t meant to be.” 

“Sun and moon do meet,” Murphy suddenly said, “approximately 240 times per century. Just because something is unlikely doesn’t mean it’s not supposed to happen. I don’t believe in absolutes, but because you and I have been friends for ten years, eight months, and three days, the one thing I can tell you is that you will 100% regret it if you give up on Lizzie like that.”

Orion studied the pendant of his necklace for a long time before raising his eyes to Murphy. “Do you know what happens during an eclipse?”

“Of course,” Murphy frowned. “The orbits of Earth, sun and moon align. It looks like the moon obscures the sun.”

“During an eclipse, twilight reigns. The sky is darkened, everything falls silent. All that remains of the sun is a fiery ring in the sky, a far cry from its strength and beauty. But the moon…” Orion smiled sadly. “Without the sun, we wouldn’t even be able to see it in the first place. And when they meet, the moon gets lost inside the light, swallowed up by shadow, as if it was never there to begin with.” 

“Do you know what else happens during an eclipse?” Katriona said quietly. “People stop and stare. A total eclipse happens once in a lifetime, if at all. It’s a blessing to get to see one. You don’t need Lizzie to be yourself, Orion, but that doesn’t mean you have to be without her, either. You two don’t eclipse each other. You make each other shine brighter.” 

Closing his hand around his necklace, Orion met her eyes. “Do you really think so?”

“Do you really think I don’t?” She got up and drew Orion into a hug. “We’re always here for you, you know that, but I don’t think this is where you should be right now.” 

Holding Katriona close for a moment longer, Orion finally let go of her. As he did so, he felt a new sense of calm wash over him. He had weathered multiple storms in his life, and if he had learned anything, it was that there was sunshine after every rain. Just yesterday, he had felt close to drowning, but the torrents had swept away the doubts and fears that had risen to the surface. 

The storm had passed, and the sun was ready to break through the clouds again. 

It was time to go home.

***

Orion only returned to his house long enough to dump his things at his house and get changed before he left again, this time headed towards Lizzie’s and Skye’s house on the edge of  Wigtown.

He knocked on the door, willing himself to be calm, but inside, his heart was racing. For as quickly as it was pounding in his chest, it skipped a beat as footsteps could be heard coming from inside. He involuntarily held his breath as the door opened, but glaring at him from the doorway with an unfriendly face was only Skye.

“Where’ve you been?” she snapped, giving him a dark look. “Practice ain’t optional, you know?”

Orion should have figured that him missing practice wouldn’t go down well with her, but right in this instance, he couldn’t care less about Skye’s foul mood.

“Is Lizzie home?”

“Why am I not surprised?” Skye rolled her eyes at him.

She stepped aside and jerked her head in direction of the stairs. “Second room on the right. Knock!” she called after him as Orion was already climbing the steps. “She wasn’t at practice either. Said she wasn’t feeling well.”

At the door to Lizzie’s room, Orion took a moment to compose himself. He felt like a bird was fluttering inside his chest, its little wings beating frantically against his ribcage. He wiped his sweaty palms on the fabric of his trousers, hesitating before raising his hand to the door. His gentle knock was answered by Lizzie’s strained voice coming from within.

“Sod off, Parkin! I said I don’t want to talk to you about practice.”

“Liz?” Orion called softly through the door. “Liz, it’s me. Can I come in?”

A heavy silence followed his words. Then, when Orion was almost convinced that she wouldn’t answer him, footsteps could be heard from inside the room. When Lizzie opened, her eyes - tired and with deep shadows underneath them - were wide as she looked at him.

“What do you want?” she whispered, her voice sounding hoarse in her throat. Orion wondered if her pallidness stemmed from not feeling well, the shock that was clearly written on her face, or both.

He swallowed heavily. “Can we talk?”

Lizzie dropped her eyes, gnawing on her lower lip as she contemplated his request. Eventually, she stepped aside, letting him pass into her room without saying a word.

Orion entered, casting a curious look around. Her bedroom wasn’t big but colourful, much like he remembered her old room at her parents’ house. Pictures of Lizzie and her friends were stuck on the walls, with some spaces between them, where the wallpaper was lighter than the rest; the photographs that had hung there must have been taken down fairly recently.

Over her bed, a framed picture of the Shankly Gates at the stadium of Liverpool FC, Lizzie’s favourite football club, was hanging, her old black-and-yellow Hufflepuff scarf draped loosely around it. The memory of Lizzie taking him there for the first time crossed Orion’s mind, and he fought down the wave of nostalgia threatening to overtake him.

At the foot of the bed, Lizzie’s cat was lying snuggled into a patchwork blanket. When Orion approached, Mouse raised her head, stretched languidly and walked over to him with her tail held high. She immediately wrapped herself around his ankles and made a soft, chirrupy sound, as if it had only been a day since she’d seen him last, not close to three years. A smile forming on his face, Orion picked her up, ruffling her thick fur as Mouse rubbed her nose against his chin.

“Time to leave, Mousey,” Lizzie said, looking at her cat rather than Orion. She extended her hands, waiting for Orion to put her into them; the fact that she kept her distance from him that way wasn’t lost on him. After Mouse had been set into the hallway and padded away with her head held high, Lizzie took a moment before she turned back to him.

“You’re back,” she said eventually, her voice sounding strangely subdued.

“I am.”

The silence between them seemed to stretch into infinity, even if it didn’t last longer than a heartbeat.

“And? Where have you been?”

“Does it matter?”

The feeling of nervous but joyful anticipation that had followed Orion from Kenmare had flickered out entirely by now. His fingers made to touch his necklace as if on their own accord, but seeing Lizzie’s eyes follow his movements, he forced himself to stop. Finally, she raised her eyes to meet him, but there was nothing in them for Orion to read.

“It does.”

“I needed time to think.”

Lizzie made a contemplative noise. “Why?”

Orion hesitated. He didn’t know if she had already spoken with Matthew. Seeing her so completely closed off from him, he didn’t know anything at all anymore, but Lizzie spared him an answer.

“Matthew spoke with you, didn’t he?”

“Yes,” Orion nodded, surprised at the chill underlying her words. “He came to me after you’d left and -”

Lizzie didn’t let him finish. “It doesn’t matter. Matthew won’t bother you anymore.”

There it was again, the icy ring to her voice Orion had never heard before, but his relief at knowing Matthew was a thing of the past was too big to question it. A tentative smile spreading on his face, he took a step towards her. It faltered when Lizzie flinched from him. The warm feeling that had spread in his chest subsided.

“I’m sorry I left,” he told her quietly. He wanted to reach for her when Lizzie looked away, but he remained frozen on the spot. “Matthew woke old fears in me that I had thought were overcome. I was overwhelmed and didn’t know what to do, but I see sense now. I see things I should’ve never forgotten in the first place.”

“And what would those be?” Lizzie asked. To his consternation, Orion saw that she was fighting with her tears. Slowly, giving her a chance to stop him, he stepped towards her and reached for her hands. Lizzie didn’t pull away as he did so, but she didn’t look at him either.

“That I love you,” Orion said, something inside him breaking when Lizzie closed her eyes in pain. He wanted to pull her into his arms and hold her, but instead, he carried on speaking. It didn’t matter what lay ahead of them, he needed to tell her what was on his mind. He owed her that, at least.

“I love you, and I have never stopped loving you, not even when half a world was between us. It was only you I ever wanted, and that scared me. I was scared that this wasn’t the path we were meant to take and that we were tempting fate by walking it regardless. I know better now. I know that the universe won’t make things right for me. I have to choose my fate myself.”

He raised his hand and laid it gently against her face. Lizzie leaned into his touch, her eyes still closed as she listened to what was burning up his heart.  

“Love is a choice,” he whispered, “and I choose to love you, as I should have from the start.”

Lizzie didn’t reply. She just stood there, pale and quiet, with her cheek resting against Orion’s hand. When she eventually opened her eyes to look at him, they were clouded by a profound sadness.

“I’m glad you made your choice,” she breathed, “because I’ve made mine, too.”

She removed his hand from her face and stepped closer, bringing her arms around him. Orion held her close, breathing in the scent of her hair, but he couldn’t help the thought that this didn’t feel like a beginning; it felt like a goodbye.

“I wish you’d come back sooner,” she whispered against his chest before letting go and stepping out of his reach, “because my choice is myself.”

She drew a deep breath and squared her shoulders, her blue eyes steady as they found his. Her voice was suddenly calm, and every one of her next words edged itself deep into Orion’s mind.

“I am leaving. I signed my contract with the Montrose Magpies this morning.”

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #harry potter hogwarts mystery #quidditch #orion amari #orion amari x mc #lizzie jameson #skye parkin #murphy mcnully #katriona cassiopeia #balance series #search for balance #sfb

[lifeofkaze]

A Dame Called Trouble

Katriona Cassiopeia x Murphy McNully, Dark Noir AU

A/N: Happy birthday, Kate! Here's @kc-and-co, my first friend here, my fellow sports enthusiast, my most aggressive cheerleader, and my idol in so many things, not only when it comes to writing. I can't drink a cup of coffee anymore or wear black cashmere without having to think of you. I had this short stuck in my head for over a year (I wanted to do it last year for your birthday, actually), but it took me until this year to finally put it to paper. I hope you enjoy (and see why I was asking the most impossible questions, haha).

Katriona Cassopeia obviously belongs to the birthday girl @kc-and-co

Warning: Mentions of smoking and alcohol addiction, mentions of gambling, serious world-weariness

Trouble has a way of finding me.

It always has, from picking fights with the kids in the village I grew up in, to the German shrapnel that bit into my spine and reduced my legs to useless scraps of meat and bone. It took me away from the battlefield and into my dingy little office in a rundown building on the edge of the River Thames. The medals once shining on the breast of Private Murphy McNully are now hidden behind a layer of thick and dirty glass, a showcase they handed Murphy McNully - the veteran - with a lukewarm handshake, empty words and a fuck-off as they kicked me out of the army and into the real world.

One war cripple gone, a million more left.

It is a rainy day when she enters my office. I haven’t expected her, and why would I? My calendar is full; nothing to keep a man busy like staring at a wall and sharing stories with his friends Jim Beam and Johnny Walker.

I can hear her steps before I see her, a short staccato of heels on the worn-out floor. A cloud of perfume enters before her. It smells like roses and amber, like the perfumes they sell to the men who can afford to treat their wives to anything better than the stink of diluted lavender dish soap. 

The first thing I notice when she steps into my office is her hair. It’s bright red, fighting for my attention with the lipstick she has put on. It isn’t pulled back in the prim and proper fashion women wear these days, secured by pins and hidden under quaint little hats in the hope of making someone think their lives are as neat as their appearances. 

No, the red hair of the woman in my office falls down her shoulders and back. It is discreetly pinned in all the right places to show off her white neck, around which two strings of pearls are hanging. She takes off her black coat to reveal an equally black dress beneath, sitting scandalously tight around her body. She must be very foolish or very confident to be wearing a dress like this. Or maybe both.

She sits in the once-beige leather chair facing my desk and looks at me expectantly. Her eyes are big, over-proportionally so, and of a disconcertingly deep blue. I clear my throat.

“What can I do for you, Miss…?”

“Mrs,” she says, without missing a beat. I notice a faint accent in her voice that I can’t place. “I’m astounded you don’t know me. You have been looking for me, after all.”

I curse my sluggish brain as I wreck my mind for the details of the jobs I have accepted in the past months. There are only three, but I can’t recall a red-headed dame with an air of glamour being part of any of them. She must sense my confusion because her blood-red lips purse as she smirks. 

“If it helps, where I come from, people call me Trouble.” 

I sit up straight, the fog in my mind from this morning’s whiskey suddenly cleared.  

“Mrs Cassiopeia?”

“The very same.” She gives me a smile and leans back in her chair with an air of effortless nonchalance. “It has come to my notice that you have been making inquiries about me.”

“I have, indeed.” 

I reach into my drawers without taking my eyes off her and pull out a crumpled packet of cigarettes. I offer her one, and she shakes her head.

“I don’t smoke, Mr McNully. How about you?”

“I have other vices.”

The look in her eyes changes as she sizes me up. “Let me guess. Your accent is Irish - faintly but still distinguishable. Your voice is hoarse, and your eyes are too red for it to solely come from lack of sleep. Or fresh air,” she adds, wrinkling her nose. “I would put my money on whiskey.”

“Then you’d lose,” I say, trying not to think about the half-empty bottle in the bottom-most drawer of my desk.

Katriona Cassiopeia chuckles. She tilts her head to the side, looking me up and down. “I never lose, Mr McNully. Contrary to you. How’s the gambling been treating you?”

My face hardens. “You must be misinformed, Mrs Cassiopeia. I don’t gamble.”

“Where I come from, word is that you do.”

“And where would that be?”

“Why, the race courses,” she says innocently. “Isn’t that why I am here?” 

“Right,” I say, adjusting my tie and touching the golden Royal Airforce pin hidden on my desk while I put my thoughts in order. “I have been investigating a number of suspicious incidents on the race courses surrounding London. Somehow, all clues lead me back to you.”

If Katriona Cassiopeia is surprised by this news, she doesn’t let it show. “How would that be?”

“You run a business, don’t you?” I abruptly change the topic. “A small company called ‘Rising Star Inc’. Is that correct?”

“It is.”

“What is it that you’re doing?”

“My dear sisters and I sacrifice our time to grace the side of any man who requires company and is willing to share his time with us.”

“You mean, who is willing to pay you.”

The corners of her red lips twitch. “To some, that is the same.”

I pull my notebook from my pocket and flick through the pages. It is more for show than anything else. I now recall all of the information to a fault. 

“Your ‘sisters’, as you like to call them. They have curious names. Trouble, Cherry, Phoenix, Fire… That doesn’t sound like a match-making service to me.” 

The smile she is giving me is sweet. Her teeth are whiter than my shirt. “Entertaining a man is an art, Mr McNully. Why shouldn’t we have artists’ names?”

“Does your husband know about this?” I change topics yet again. And like before, she remains as calm as I am after only my third drink of the day.

“My husband helped me set things up.”

“Where is he now?”

“Dead, alas. He met his demise when one of his racing horses hit him in the head.”

I pretend to check my notes again. “According to authorities, the head wound looked like he was hit with a bat.”

Her blue eyes narrow, if only slightly. “Well, he wasn’t.”

“I am sorry for your loss, Mrs Cassiopeia. A most unfortunate event.”

“Most unfortunate indeed,” she replies. Her words sound innocent, but there is steel behind them. 

We stare at each other for a long moment. It is pretence, and we both know it, a delicious dance between a hunter and its prey. Looking at her unsettling blue eyes, I’m not sure who of us is who.

She breaks me out of my thoughts when she uncrosses her legs and leans forward. “Mr McNully, my time is precious. I came here today because I was told that you are looking for me. If you want a witness report, you will need to tell me what it is that I allegedly have seen.”

“Oh, you must be mistaken.”

One of her eyebrows rises. “How so?”

“You are not my witness, Ma’am. You are my suspect.”

She makes a contemplative noise, almost like the purring of a cat. “Interesting. Do you really think me capable of being a petty member in a criminal organisation?”

“On the contrary, Mrs Cassiopeia. I think you capable of being the head of a criminal organisation.”

She holds my eyes for a moment longer. She leans forward, her elbows resting on the shabby wood of my desk. “You are not one to underestimate an opponent, Mr McNully. That is good. Otherwise, I’d pity you. But be that as it may, I don’t think you have any evidence against me.”

“There has been an accumulation of manipulated results whenever you or one of your employees have attended a race.”

“Chance.”

“You have risen to success ridiculously fast.”

“Sense of business. Or, seeing as I am nothing but a woman,” she adds with a fake innocence that can’t hide her bitterness, “probably luck.”

“Several of your clients have met an untimely demise shortly after being seen with one of your girls,” I try one last time, aware of how desperate I’m sounding.

“Bad luck. What would I gain if I went and killed my clients? That sounds like a terrible business plan.” She rises to her feet, picking up her heavy coat from the back of the chair. “It was nice talking to you, Mr McNully. We should do that again sometime soon.”

“You can’t go,” I blurt out, angry at myself when I see the amused look on her face. She raises her hands, holding her wrists out to me.

“Why? Am I arrested?” 

The smirk on her red lips is infuriating, but we both know that there is nothing I can do. I am certain that she is involved in whatever fishy business is going on in the world of glitz and glamour, but - as she has correctly pointed out - I have no evidence against her, only the uncompromising feeling in my gut that I can’t let her strut out my door. Gritting my teeth, I shake my head and force a smile onto my face. 

“You are free to go, Mrs Cassiopeia.”

“Pity.” She leans over my desk, her red hair brushing over its top as she breathes into my ear. “Until next time, Mr McNully.”

I have to swallow as I watch her walk to the door. “What makes you think there’ll be a next time?”

She doesn’t answer but leaves me staring after her, too dumbfounded to say anything else. My head is swimming with questions, but all I can think of is the blue of her eyes, the red of her lips, and the scent of rose and amber pervading the air. In the doorway she stops and looks over her shoulder, directly at me. 

“Something tells me that the chances are good, Mr McNully. Trouble has a way of finding you.” 

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #quidditch #murphy mcnully #writblr #katriona cassiopeia #dark noir au #happy birthday kate #private investigator

[lifeofkaze]

Black Velvet

Murphy McNully x Katriona Cassiopeia

A/N: Good things come to those who wait, right? 😅 Haha, kidding, not gonna lie, I'm a little ashamed that it took me almost (for actually?) half a year to come through with my promised Murtriona smut in exchange for the last smut piece my wonderful wifey put together for me. But if I promise something I come through with it, even if it might take a while. So, @kc-and-oc here you go, enjoy 💛💙 Katriona Cassiopeia and the anniversary headcanons obviously belong to @kc-and-oc

Warning: PURE AND FITHLY SMUT (with a hint of fluff but shhhh). If you're under 18 or do not feel comfortable with smut, DO NOT READ. All featured characters are of age and consenting.

As far as Murphy was concerned, the day couldn’t have started better.

His wife Katriona and he had arrived in Italy just in time to witness the beautiful sunrise over the Amalfi coast.

The sea air in Italy smelled different than it did back home, Murphy thought to herself as they sipped on an espresso as black as the night on the huge balcony of the chalet KC had booked for their weekend getaway to celebrate their wedding anniversary.

It smelled like warm sand, sunlight, good food and wine, and an undisturbed few days with the love of his life.

They spent the day mostly outside, exploring the little Italian fishing village with its romantic, winding streets, only returning home when the sun had already begun sinking below the horizon.

Murphy had been enjoying his day, having caught maybe just a little too much wine and sun; he felt deliciously exhausted, but he was looking forward to giving KC her anniversary gift.

Each year they tried trumping each other in finding the most hilarious gift for the other, and this year, Murphy was quite confident in his choice - a gigantic coffee mug in the shape of his favourite chess piece, the white queen.

Somehow, KC didn’t seem to share his good mood anymore, however; attentive as always, Murphy hadn’t failed to notice that she had gone more and more quiet as the evening drew on. She was looking out over the waves beneath their balcony, turning the thin stem of her wine glass between her fingers.

“Your rate of words per minute has been steadily decreasing since we came back, my love,” Murphy said softly and leaned forward to take her hand into his. “Do you want to tell me what’s bothering you?”

KC tore her eyes away from the sea and a fleeting smile flickered over her face.

“It’s nothing,” she said, emptied her glass and stood up.

“Come inside,” she smiled and walked past Murphy, running her hand over his shoulder as she passed him, “I have a surprise for you.”

She led Murphy into the bathroom and turned on the taps on the big copper bathtub.

“Why don’t you go have a bath?” she said and kissed Murphy’s cheek. “The day has been exhausting, and I want you to relax.”

She turned from him, but Murphy caught her wrist and pulled her into his lap.

“I know a perfect way to relax,” he smirked and kissed his wife, drinking in the smell of sunlight on her skin and the taste of white wine on her lips.

But to his surprise, KC gently pushed him away and stood up again.

“Go and have your bath,” she said and walked out of the bathroom door, looking at him over her shoulder. “You’ll get your surprise afterwards.”

Confused by her rejection, Murphy pushed himself out of his wheelchair and into the scalding hot water. He hadn’t wanted to admit it, but the heat worked wonders on the tense muscles in his arms and shoulders.

KC must have known how exhausting a full day of exploring would be for him, and Murphy smiled to himself as he sank deeper into the fragrant water; she always knew what he needed.

When Murphy returned to their bedroom, the sun had almost gone down, plunging the room into twilight.

KC had shut the curtains except for the ones in front of the winged doors leading onto the balcony; the last rays of sun were shining in her back, turning her red hair into a mane of molten fire.

She was leaning against the doorframe facing him, wearing nothing but a silk robe and long, black velvet gloves; the sight took Murphy’s breath away.

“I like this surprise already,” he chuckled, his voice deep in his throat.

He pushed his wheelchair over to the window to draw his wife into his lap again, but she quickly sidestepped him, and laid a gentle hand onto his cheek.

She leaned in and kissed him, quick, but full of passion and promise; when she pulled away, Murphy’s head was spinning.

“Enjoy the show,” she whispered, before stepping out of his reach.

She closed the curtains with a quick motion, leaving only the flickering life of the candles she’d lit to illuminate the room. At the same moment, seemingly out of nowhere, a slow, compelling melody began to play.

Murphy’s eyes widened as KC slowly started moving to the music, her hands travelling up and down her silk robe at a painfully languid pace.

Her gaze was cast to the ground at first, as if she was gathering her courage, but when more and more instruments added to the melody, she raised her eyes and locked them with Murphy’s; the look in them was intense, enticing, and Murphy found the collar of his shirt suddenly too tight.

KC’s hands wandered up her bare thighs, slightly lifting the hem of her robe, and Murphy couldn’t avert his eyes. She reached for the knot keeping her silk robe together and very slowly pulled it open.

When the silk fell down from her pale shoulders, Murphy’s breath caught in his throat.

KC was wearing a stunning set of sapphire lingerie, one he’d never seen before. It hugged and accentuated her curves just right, and was the exact shade of blue of her eyes, which gleamed in the soft light of the candles.

She slowly walked over to him, her silk robe puddling all forgotten on the floor, but Murphy couldn’t care less. The bronze heels she was wearing elongated the legs Murphy loved so much, and were clicking on the stone floor in time with the beat of the music.

He couldn’t take his eyes off her, neither from the small heart-shaped scar on her thigh he’d kissed so often - but never often enough - nor from her swaying hips that made Murphy swallow in anticipation.

KC walked around him, her hand travelling along his shoulders, the ends of her hair brushing against the bare skin of his arms and neck.

The music had increased in pace, the singer’s voice dark and husky in Murphy’s ears, and KC stood in front of him again. She brought one of her gloved hands to her mouth and caught the black velvet on her middle finger with her teeth.

She pulled the glove off very slowly, her eyes fixed on Murphy. She leaned forward, loping the velvet glove around the back of his neck; it felt warm and soft on his skin, and Murphy shuddered as KC pulled on it slightly to draw him in, a direction he was only too eager to follow.

He could smell her perfume and feel her breath on his lips, but before Murphy had the chance to kiss her, the music did a sudden turn, and so did KC.

She turned around in time with the music, the heels over her shoes gliding over the floor. She buried her hands in her flaming red curls and raised her arms, giving Murphy a perfect view of her backside.

The way she moved her hips left and right in fluent motions was almost too much for Murphy to bear, and when she bent forward, shooting a cheeky glance over her shoulder, he couldn’t resist any longer.

He laid his hands on her perfectly rounded hips and turned her around, pulling her into his lap. Her skin felt hot to the touch, like the fire of her hair was running through her veins as well, and when he kissed her this time, KC straddled him and kissed him back.

Her tongue brushed over his lips and Murphy opened them for her willingly, all of his senses completely intoxicated by her. He could feel the same passion and hunger in her kiss that was raging inside his own chest, but when he reached to undo the clasp of her elaborate bra, she clapped his hand away.

The music was still playing, and KC didn’t speak a single word, but she didn’t have to. The gleam in her eyes and the seductive smirk on her lips spoke volumes as she kissed Murphy a second time while climbing off his lap.

She kneeled down in front of him, and gently pushed his knees apart. She undid the buckle of his belt with nimble fingers, and Murphy shuddered when she ran her hand over him beneath the fabric of his trousers.

Murphy’s breath hitched and his head fell into his neck when she pulled down his clothes and took him into her mouth. She ran her tongue teasingly along his length, drawing patterns and circles as she moved her head.

Murphy buried his hands in her hair, but she knew exactly what kind of rhythm he preferred without him having to tell her. She looked up at him and they locked eyes, blue on grey, and the sparkle in them was enough to drive Murphy insane.

KC slowed, sensing that Murphy was close to losing control. Giving his tip one last flick of her tongue that made him inhale sharply, she let go of him.

Murphy reached out and cupped her cheek with his hand, running this thumb over her lips.

“I want you,” he said with a hoarse voice, “right now.”

With a smile, KC pushed to her feet and walked over to the sofa on the other side of the room. She shrugged off her bra and pants on her way, discarding them casually. Murphy couldn’t have cared less for the intricate lace landing in some forgotten place; he only had eyes for the perfect silhouette of his wife.

Katriona draped herself on the sofa in a way that looked too enticing to be even allowed, and Murphy took his time to admire every little detail of her, committing the picture to his infallible memory, so he would never forget how otherworldly beautiful she looked in his exact moment.

She ran her hand over the smooth skin of her stomach and up to her breasts in a lazy motion before extending her hand towards him and beckoning him closer with her finger.

“Do you want to sit and stare, or hold up to your promise?”

Not needing to be told twice, Murphy rolled his wheelchair over to her and pushed himself over onto the sofa next to her. KC’s hands were on him as soon as he was within her reach, unbuttoning his shirt and getting rid of everything that kept her from feeling his burning skin against hers.

Murphy laid on his back and pulled her on top of him. She straddled his hips all too gladly and when she bent down to kiss him, she gasped against his mouth as he ran his hands up her thighs, feeling how ready she was for him already.

She hummed against his lips as he began coaxing soft moans from her. When both of them weren’t able to wait a single moment longer, KC pushed his hand away and lowered herself on top of him.

She moved slowly at first, to the rhythm of the music. Murphy was tempted to close his eyes and lose himself in the feeling of her completely, but he found he couldn’t.

Her eyes had drawn him, put a spell on him, and burned himself too deeply into his heart and soul to look away, like they had for the first time so many years ago.

The feeling of KC’s hips grinding against his in this deliciously slow pace was new for both of them, but it brought a never before known intensity with him that made Murphy hold his breath. It was as if every second was drawn out, every single thing he felt intensified tenfold.

He had stopped listening to the slow music a long time ago, his mind too busy with focusing on the sight of KC moving on top of him, her red hair spilling over her shoulder. They were making their own music, they always had, and nothing sounded as beautiful to Murphy’s ears.

Murphy could feel his release coming, it wouldn’t take much more for him to get there, but he forced himself to breathe deeply, ignoring the tension building up inside his stomach with every thrust, every passing second.

KC wasn’t looking at him anymore; she had picked up in pace now, falling into a more familiar rhythm. Her head was dipped back into her neck, and her eyes were closed, her lips parted ever so slightly.

She was completely lost in the feeling of Murphy against her, his hands on her hips, her thighs, her back, her breasts, everywhere she could feel the touch of his strong hands.

With a gasp, she leaned forward abruptly as her high rolled over her, burying her face against Murphy’s neck. Her soft hair brushed over his chest, a stark contrast to the stinging in his arms where her nails dug into his skin.

The unexpected shift in her angle, along with the feeling of her tightening around her was too much for Murphy to control anymore. He wrapped her arms around her back, not sure who the racing heartbeat he felt belonged to, KC or himself.

He kissed her passionately as he came undone beneath her, riding his high for as long as he could. When he felt the tingling in his whole body subside and his heart had stopped racing, Murphy loosened his arms around KC, and smiled as she gently kissed him a last time.

“Now that’s what I call an anniversary gift,” he chuckled and brushed one of the curls that stuck to her forehead out of her face. “I’m afraid my gift to you won’t be able to compare. I stuck to the funny theme.”

KC laughed softly and climbed off him, wrapping herself into her silk robe again.

“Don’t worry,” she purred and ran her finger down the middle of Murphy’s chest. “You’ll find your gift hilarious. This here was extra.”

#murphy mcnully #murphy mcnully smut #murphy mcnully x katriona cassiopeia #katriona cassiopeia #murtriona

[lifeofkaze]

Home Run

Murphy McNully x Reader

 A/N: This is officially the hardest thing I’ve ever written. Jeez, baseball is complicated… I apologise for any inaccuracies, I really tried my best to understand it properly! Dedicated to @kc-needs-coffee​

Warning: NSFW, +18 only, public sex, exhibitionism, fingering, severe lack of knowledge about baseball

Word Count: ~ 2.100

To say Murphy was bored was an understatement. Not that he would have ever let it show of course; he knew just how much him accompanying you to one of your beloved baseball matches meant to you. But as his grey eyes swept the length of the admittingly impressive stadium he couldn’t deny he wished the events unfolding on the lawn below him would speed up.

He leaned back in his wheelchair and calculated the odds of the pitcher’s next ball reaching the catcher and sending the player swinging his bat in anticipation off the pitch. They were discouragingly low.

His head turned to where you were sitting next to him; you leaned towards your dad, who had managed to bag the tickets for today’s match in the first place. Both of you were enthralled by the game you shared a singular passion for, eyes fixed on the square sand pitch surrounded by the green, cone-shaped lawn.

You had swapped your usually very elegant and feminine attire for a navy baseball jacket bearing the logo of your team and a matching cap rested on your glossy curls. You even wore your team’s colours painted on your cheeks, reminding him of a different championship game you had attended together. He smiled at the thought of your face showing off the colours of your favourite Quidditch team and his smile widened as he recalled how you had celebrated afterwards, in private.

Murphy’s eyes caught the gaze of his own mother, who sat on the other side of your father, looking equally lost as he was; just like him, she had tagged along because she wanted to understand the obsession of her friend about a game she knew little to nothing about.

She tapped the man beside her on the shoulder and whispered something in his ear; he turned from his daughter and chuckled as he explained something to her, pointing to the figures on the field, waiting for the pitcher to finally get a move on and throw the ball.

And sure enough, the player with the bat hit the ball squarely, sending it flying away over the heads of his opponents as he started running around the field to score his points.

His eyes not leaving the pitch, Murphy leaned over to you, smiling at how focused you were on your favourite game.

“Just so I get this right,” he asked as your tore away your beautiful blue eyes from the pitch, “the player has to run until the others have caught the ball, correct?”

Your lips curled into a lenient smile. “Or until he reaches his home base again,” you clarified.

“Hm,” Murphy hummed in response. “And it just falls down; it won’t go flying anywhere out of its own accord.”

“No,” you answered matter-of-factly.

“So the beater literally has nothing else to do than to hit it and then run?”

“I’m delighted you remembered, babe,” you sighed. “And he’s called batter, not beater.”

Murphy made an indignant sound. “Which is not logically comprehensible; he actually beats the ball.”

“And he does so with a bat,” you shot back with a laugh.

He rested his hand on your thigh and sighed as both of you turned your attention back to the game. Although he really tried to get as excited for the sport as you were, he just couldn’t deny the main problem with it. It just wasn’t Quidditch.

A collective roar went through the stadium as the beater – batter, Murphy corrected himself – collided with one of the basemen scattered around the pitch and both fell to the ground; one of them was covering his nose as blood started seeping from it.

As the medical teams jogged onto the field, a cheery song sounded from the speakers of the stadium.

“Now, my friends, let’s spread some love!” the announcer shouted excitedly into his microphone as the big screens littered around the pitch’s perimeter were suddenly covered in a shower of hearts. “It’s time for the kiss cam!”

One eyebrow raised, Murphy turned to you for an explanation, but it wasn’t really necessary. He quickly got the drift as he saw one couple after the other appearing on the big screen, each one kissing more passionately than the one before them to the whooping cheers of the crowd.

He blinked in confusion as his own enlarged features suddenly stared back at him, while you covered your face with your hands and groaned in exasperation. A grin spread across his face as he turned towards you and pried your hands away, looking deeply into your ocean blue eyes.

“Let’s give them a show, shall we?” he whispered smugly.

Before you could object, he had cupped your cheek with his hand and pulled you close, sealing your lips with a passionate kiss. You wrapped your arms around his neck as the frenetic crowd cheered you on. He could taste the beer and lemonade you had been drinking on your lips and his heart started beating faster as heat spread inside his stomach. The blood had risen to your cheeks; you looked breath-taking with that blush only he could bring to your face and he had to fight the urge to pull you back to him for more.

Your eyes reluctantly tore away from his as the medics finished their work and the game continued; but Murphy was in no mood to concentrate on baseball anymore.

He wasn’t the only one whose body temperature had apparently risen considerably, though. You downed the remains of your drink in one go and held your cup under his nose.

“Want to get some more?”

Murphy nodded without a second thought and the two of you left your seats, heading away from the pitch. All the way over to the concession stands, you were raving about the game and how well your team was performing. He nodded absentmindedly every now and then, but wasn’t really listening. All he could do was staring at your perfect red lips and imagining how they would feel on his bare skin.

“Murphy?”

He snapped out of his not exactly innocent thoughts. “Sorry, what?”

“Were you even listening?” you chuckled.

“Sorry,” he smiled apologetically, “I got a little bit distracted.” His eyes swept over your curves he loved so much, even though the full beauty of them was hidden under your baggy jacket.

A devilish grin spread on your face. “Oh, I noticed,” you purred as you bent down to him to place another kiss on his lips, this one a lot hungrier than before.

“I don’t think I care for drinks anymore,” Murphy whispered hoarsely into your ears as you broke away from him. His eyes found the door of restroom with special accessibility they had passed before.

Your eyes followed him and your smile started to fade. “No way, babe,” you shook your head, “the restrooms are gross!”

Murphy wrapped his strong hands around your waist, nonetheless. “Not many people are allowed to use them,” he explained, “they’re typically not nearly as bad as the regular ones.”

You weren’t completely persuaded, but couldn’t deny the fluttery feeling building inside you at his firm grip on you; you could almost feel the electricity between you, even through the layers of your clothes.

“The game might be over anytime now, people will be coming down from their seats,” you tried one last time, but not with near as much objection as before.

To prove you wrong, the announcer called the new score; the other team had caught up.

It played into Murphy’s cards wonderfully. “If I remember my baseball lessons with this incredibly hot teacher correctly,” he smirked up at you, “this means we have one extra inning of incredibly tense gameplay ahead of us before anyone is going to miss us.”

Your eyebrows shot up but your smile widened as you looked your boyfriend up and down. “So you did pay attention to me.”

Murphy snorted at your words. “Of course I did; there’s nothing hotter than you getting excited about something.”

You bend down to him again and saw with satisfaction how goosebumps covered Murphy’s neck as you whispered into his ear. “Then let me show how excited I can really get.”

Without another word you turned around and started off into the direction of the restroom, your hips swaying with every step you took. You didn’t turn around to see if Murphy was following you; you knew he was.

He had been right; the restroom was surprisingly clean, absolutely not like you had expected. You were, however, past caring now.

As soon as Murphy had locked the door behind him, he whirled around to you, pulling you on his lap for a searing kiss. His forehead raised the visor of your cap and he broke contact with you to turn it around on your head so it faced backwards. As soon as he was done, his lips found yours again and you opened your mouth eagerly to welcome his tongue as it danced around your own.

You pulled on his lip teasingly as his nimble fingers quickly unbuttoned your jacket and threw it into the far corner of  the room, both of your jerseys following shortly after. He grunted with pleasure as you bit down on the exposed muscles of shoulders.

His hands found their ways to your pants, and an audible gasp fell from your lips as he undid them and slid his hand into your panties, rubbing at your already soaking clit. You raised your hips to give him better access and grit your teeth as his other hand unclasped your bra, allowing his skilled tongue to dart over your hardened nipples.

You buried your face in his blond hair as he slid two fingers into you and hooked them slightly, massaging your sweet spot until it almost drove you insane. Your hips bucked into him and you didn’t even have the time to enjoy the feeling of him finger fucking you as you felt your orgasm build already. Your release washed over you in a wave of pleasure as you buried your face in his blonde hair, intoxicated by the smell of his hairspray and desire for you.

The considerable noise you made was drowned out by the roaring of the crowd but you couldn’t care less what the commentator was announcing. Your eyes drank in the sight of Murphy before you, his grey eyes fixed onto yours, as he stroked his hardened cock, ready to chase another high alongside you.

You hadn’t even recovered from the first one yet as he pulled you down on him, groaning in delight at how tight your walls felt around him. A moan of your own escaped your lips as you dipped your head back, your hair tickling the sensitive skin of your bare back, relishing how your man filled you completely.

The two of you were such a well-practised team, you needed no words to communicate. You moved in perfect unison to the familiar rhythm of Murphy’s thrust, both of your hearts racing like mad. The air was filled with nothing but the sound of your moans and heavy breathing, the occasional cheer from the crowd still watching the game wafting over to you.

But you didn’t notice any of it. Your world had reduced to Murphy and you and your joint hunt for your release. You felt the first traces your second orgasm but you sensed Murphy needing a few more thrusts to catch up with you. So you shifted your weight slightly to an angle you knew that was driving him crazy every time.

After a few more thrusts his breath got uneven and his eyes glazed over before he buried his face into your collarbones. You let yourself go as well and shuddered as both of your orgasms shook you to the core and you screamed Murphy’s name in sweet agony.

You stayed like this for a few moments, until your hearts had stopped racing and your breath began to calm down. Murphy raised his head, placed a tender kiss on your swollen lips and wiped away your smudged face paint before lifting you off him.

You grabbed your clothes and put them on again, before turning your cap around the proper way. With a big smile you tossed Murphy his own jersey.  

“So, what do you think of baseball now?” you laughed, as you watched his brawny chest disappear behind the fabric.

“I still think Quidditch is superior,” Murphy mused teasingly and winked at you. “But I sure don’t mind those extra innings.

#murphy mcnully smut #murtiona #murphy mcnully x katriona cassiopeia #wifey kc #I hope I didn't get it all wrong #I really tried #and I'd really like to see a live game now

[mizutoyama]

@kc-needs-coffee

#I just want them to realize they have feelings for each other! #katriona cassiopeia #murphy mcnully #katriona x murphy #hogwarts mystery #hphm #other’s mc

[lifeofkaze]

Original Characters Collection - Masterpost

Lizzie Jameson:

Doppelbeater Defence (feat. Katriona Cassiopeia, Judith Harris)

One Year Older, None the Wiser

The Gift of Winter Veil (Warcraft AU, feat. Samantha O'Connell)

A Not So Secret Santa (feat. Artemis Hexley)

Driving Home for Christmas (feat. Katriona Cassiopeia)

Coffee, Cake and Covert Secrets (feat. Samantha O’Connell)

The Threads of Fate (Circus AU)

The Joker and the King (Cardverse AU) 1 | 2

Little Things

Various:

Death Comes to Deadwood (Selene Fraser, Wild West AU)

The Adventures of Alan the Ferret - The Rescue Mission (Selene Fraser, Ethel Hexley)

Wild Flower (Selene Fraser)

An Explosion of Scent (Selene Fraser, Ethel Hexley, Victoria Summer)

A Very Hexley Birthday (The Hexley Twins)

Not So Bad (Carolyn Nyberg)

A Dame Called Trouble (Katriona Cassiopeia, Murphy McNully)

Boy and the Ghost (Henry Lovecraft)

How to Save a Curse-Breaker (Ava Campbell, Artemis Hexley)

The Ghosts of Christmas Past (Ava Campbell, Leila Hellebore)

Friendly Fire (Ava Campbell x Charlie Weasley)

Tortoise Trouble (Dylan Amari)

Paint Me A Picture (Reva Amari, Farid Sikander)

Twenty-Two (Reva Amari)

Uncharted (Reva Amari, Dante Lopez Briarwood)

Spooky Scary Skeletons (Reva Amari)

#masterpost #masterlist #kaze writes