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DEAR READER
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@arcanefolklore
atticus welby ⸻ jonathan bailey
cadmus flamel ⸻ chris evans
corvus black ⸻ nuno gallego
darcy hawthorne ⸻ glen powell
percy montclair ⸻ crew morrow
note: i use dark mode for the dash and i'm legally blind, so please do not double space or triple space your replies for me as they're difficult for me to read. thank you!
closed starter for @mystxcmxn
before percy knew it, hours had passed in the library and most of the castle was abandoned. students either in their dorms or off campus for whatever reason. it was still big, so it took the freshman awhile before the corridors started to look familiar and he was back at the tower where his dormitories were located. he must have missed dinner, so maybe he could try the locator spell to help him sneak down to the kitchens and get some food.
opening the door, he found his roommate jerking off in the others bed. "oh, um- sorry." his eyes lit up, focused on the cock before he grabbed the door and shut himself outside.
GLEN POWELL as BEN RICHARDS THE RUNNING MAN (2025)
Whatever predicament Dakota found himself in, his parents most certainly won’t be very happy with him. He was told to remain professional during school events. Keep his alcohol intake to a minimum, and refrain from doing anything stupid. Dakota liked to think he adhered to all those rules thus far. Mommy and daddy didn’t strictly forbid him from flirting with his professors. Or fucking them, for that matter.
The moment his mask and robes hit the floor, he was all over Cadmus. In truth, he could care less if the carriage offered them privacy or not. Dakota wanted to devour every inch of the professor the moment he laid eyes on his exquisite frame. “Then I hope you won’t mind my company until the sun rises, sir.” Polite as ever, he made sure Cadmus wanted this as well before proceeding any further. Once he got the older blonde’s confirmation, Dakota sealed the deal with a lovingly deep kiss. He pushed his tongue inside when given the opportunity and explored the steamy contents of Cadmus’ mouth.
He pulled away just so they could both catch their breaths and slid behind the professor. A few firm spanks were administered to those beautifully plump cheeks, enough to leave visible imprints. “Remind me to sign up for transfiguration next semester. I’d love to see you on a daily basis.” The quidditch captain purposefully peppered kisses down Cadmus back and stopped just shy of his ass. “I want to taste you, sir… can I please?” Dakota asked, suppressing his lustful hunger until given the go ahead.
the professor already knew he'd be cursing at himself in the morning once he wasn't thinking his dick. even if dakota wasn't a student he had in his college, it was still messy and the professor prided himself on how organized and put together his life tended to be. he was the flamel brother who seemed to have everything put together, the most level headed... and yet, here he was. that was a concern for the morning when he'd feel guilt.
right now, he just wanted to feel his students body against his own. their lips for another kiss, and then another, and another while they undressed one another and robes were tossed aside. being a quidditch player had done wonders for dakota, muscles were rippling under the others tanned skin, flexing whenever he ran his fingers over them.
laying on his stomach now, cadmus felt those kisses down his spine. the anticipation of what was to come self jolts of electricity through the older mans body, every little touch felt so intense. he wanted dakota more than he'd probably admit to himself, to be taken care of and thoroughly fucked by the young man. "i'll make sure to wear something tight if you do... but don't think sleeping with me will get you a passing grade."
"y-yes." cadmus stammered out, he could feel the others body pressed against his plump ass when dakota stopped. "you can have as much as you want, dakota. just... devour me."
Fine was good. He'd take fine. Ghosts usually were not and eager to share why, which boosted his confidence this was an actual living being to a solid 90%. His eyes squinted as the light intensified and managed to stand it for about five seconds before taking a step back with a sigh at the new information. Of course there was a random garden, bush, hazard thing created unexpectedly for tonight.
"Lost is a strong word."> Harper defended. "I'm pretty sure I was on the right track home and if you came in recently, then following the track behind you should bring me back to the entrance. Provided that these are just bushes and not enchanted in a way to make everyone's life harder."
Even as he said it, he could almost sense the darkly gleeful energy around them that promised just that.
Great.
"Well. Any chance you'd wanna team up and try to find a way out?" Harper'd long given up trying to decipher identities tonight and just defaulted to everyone was likely some kind of ally. Probably. "Wait...you didn't have a hand in creating it, did you?" There was probably no way they'd gotten that lucky, but worth an ask.
The Hedge Maze had been brought in a few years ago, it was supposed to be entertainment for those who liked these sorts of things. Plus, it showed off the skills of the Herbology students and those within Darcy's own college. Illusion and Enchantments.
"We both know it's never that simple at Wickerby." the professor said with a grin, crossing his arms. He heard muffles behind him as he walked, the sound of the hedges moving and changing with each footstep he took. It was warping and molding itself around those inside to give them a challenge. "It changes so you can't go back the way you came."
"No, I certainly did not help create this but some of my colleagues helped." he waved his wand, to pull the mist off the two of them some so they could see clearly. "I was too busy with the performance that went on inside. They did great work with the maze this year, I can feel the magic radiating off it."
And then the blonde started to walk, assuming Harper would follow close behind.
Okay for the most part, I guess. Harper couldn't remember much of his first convocation but he figured if someone'd checked on him that night, he'd have muttered something similar. So, it wasn't a surprise when the other introduced himself as a first-year and his mouth opened to reply before he sputtered slightly.
"Uh, wha- no. I'm-uh, I'm not. No." Maybe one day. But not today. "I'm just a post-grad student. No need to be formal or anything with me. I just, uh, felt like I should probably do something to help ease in the next generation, but between you and me...I still find all this to be overwhelming too. S'not exactly my kinda scene."
Case in point. He'd jumped right in and done none of the social niceties things. "I'm Harper, by the way. Welcome to Wickerby and all that. Do you have an idea of what you might want to study one day or keeping your options open?"
all of it was a little overwhelming to start your experience at the school. he understood how much of a luxury school wickerby was, his education before now had all been at private wizarding boarding schools but it was on such a big scale. there was a baby dragon flying around earlier, some kind of maze outside, and charms going off every few minutes in the air.
"oh, that makes more sense. you don't look old enough to be a teacher. what is your major anyway?" he asked, curiously. there were so many colleges to pick from, he wondered what kind of reputation each one had. "uh, wandlore and wandcraft." he answered, his family had been making wands for centuries now. it was the thing he knew better than anything. "i've known that's what i want to do my entire life, really."
"a rose does not compliment a bee. i should be here fawning over you not the other way around you know. but thank you for the compliments, i trust you would tell me if i looked a mess." quinn knew he usually worked in much shabbier garb having to take care of animals meant he was never too attached to his clothing but this suit was quite special. the fact that darcy was a fan of it only made him like it all the more. "would you like me to have them spin something for you? what color silk would you like?"
tilting his face up into the brush of the wand against his face he smiled moving to lift his mask up over his face letting it rest just above his forehead. "what brought you into the maze? am i the first body you have come across because if so, i feel lucky to have gotten your attention."
there was thar grin on darcy's face that could probably be seen through the mist of that dark night if quinn's moths weren't lighting up the way around the other. "oh, now that was smooth, my dear quinn." the blonde loved to be adored by others, and even more so when a man knew his way with words. "i didn't realize you were a poet." his fingers ran over some of the details, studying them for a moment and letting the touch linger there. "you spoil me. i'm found of soft shades of pink, gold, reds. anything romantic, really."
looking at that handsome face, you would never believed that quinn had the job he had. one might assume his field of magic aligned more with darcy's, or one of the more academic fields like history or law. but darcy liked a man who was so full of surprises. "you are." he answered the question, lowering his wand and taking a step closer to take up the space between them. "i've been to dozens of balls and they all bleed together after awhile, thought i'd get some fresh air and see what the maze had to offer me."
darcy looked into those lily pad green eyes that he'd be able to spot anywhere. "looks like i made the right choice."
He couldn't help but laugh at the idea of his brother dressing in more feminine colors. "I think that would send our father straight to St. Brigid's for a week." The idea of his older brother changing how he dressed would be so funny. All the Black children were taught how to dress in the family manner. Black base with structured details and a motif that set them apart. "Who knows? Maybe one of our nephews will join you on the softer side of the family." That wouldn't be so bad—soften the image even if they didn't carry the Black name. Bella could see the disappointment in his brother's face. It must be hard to be the last child at home. Bella at least had his older siblings, and the younger he was, the less he was ever in this house without any siblings. "I know how to make sure our mother doesn't have a trace of where I am." It was not an easy task, but it was worth it from time to time. "Want to go to that cute little Italian place and give our parents the chance to have a night to them selves.""I promise the landing will be nice" He pulled out his wand and flicked it, the loud pop pulling them through the space. The landing was soft in the middle of the shopping center where most people landed "See nice and gentle, just like I promised, baby bird"
Between the children, Corvus had adopted to more pastels and softer, more feminine colors to try and stand out from his siblings who all had darker colors associated with him even though he was the only one of the five who had the golden blonde hair. While the crow would have been an obvious motif for Corvus and it often was, he preferred the white swan and narcissus flowers.
Sometimes the youngest wondered what it must be like to grow up in their family home with all of his siblings, Atlas was almost an adult by the time he was born and Corvus didn't have many memories of those first few years. Most of his adolescence and formative years had been spent alone while the older four were already moved out or in college themselves. “Sure, that sounds nice actually.” Corvus played it off cool, he didn't want Bella to know how much he liked spending time with all of them.
As the two landed, it took Corvus a second or two to compose himself and for his head to stop swirling. “Still a better means of transportation over others.” the youngest Black brother starts heading towards the shops, assuming Bella is following behind.
A start of a new year brought together a bunch of new students, a bunch of new young minds to nurture into the next generation of witches and wizards that this world would see... And for Vincent, it also meant a new year of eye candy and new boys to sink his teeth, and cock, into. It was something that the professor always looked forward to, wondering what new cock warmers he could find and turn into his pretty little things... But of course, that wasn't something that he could say outright. His extracurricular activities were kept hidden, only those involved knew very well just how much he cheated on his wife and even then, they were made to kept his proclivities a secret - as far as his wife knew, he was still the devoted husband he had always been.
With sunglasses over his eyes, the professor walked through the courtyard in the middle of the day quietly appraising the students that he saw as he walked past. Some with thick asses, some with beautiful thighs or plump lips... So many that he could see becoming a favorite of his... But as he walked, he couldn't help but notice the student standing alone by the pool of water. So beautiful, so young... Just the kind of student he liked.
Slowly the professor made his way to the student, his steps slow and deliberate, the heel of his shoes clacking against the stone in the courtyard and alerting the student to his presence. "No, no," Vincent spoke, a small chuckle to his tone as a smile pulled at the corners of his lips. "I saw that you were standing here and you seemed lost." Lost in thought or lost in location, he wasn't sure, but it did give Vincent an opportunity to come in and introduce himself. "You must be a new student. I'm Vincent Castellan, a professor at this college."
It was easy to say that Percy had probably been sheltered most of his life, he was from an affluent family in New England and his education before Wickerby was a private boarding school. So most of his first few days, Percy strolled through the school like a lost doe discovering civilization. Maybe he'd get the hang of the school by the end of the first semester, but so far it felt like every turn he took he ended up in a new wing of the castle he hadn't discovered yet. The maps were just as confusing trying to figure out.
Of course the professor was hot, almost everyone at Wickerby was gorgeous as hell but he tried not to think about that. At least not in front of the man who introduced himself. "Oh, yes. That obvious?" he asked, cheeks turning a rosy pink for a second or two. "It's a pleasure, Professor." he shook the others hand, giving a polite and respectful nod. "I'm Percy. Percy Montclair." His last name dragged out of his mouth, he didn't want it to come off like he was trying to boast his family name around here. Especially when his dad taught there as well.
"What do you teach?"
Eryx stifled a laugh as the other held back a scream at the mostly harmless dragon. At least at this size there was really no harm that the little thing could do. "You can tell when it's the first time because everything still looks so amazing to them. By sophomore year, I promise all of this will just be another day to you" He shook his head as the small dragon made a noise from inside his pocket. "Not normal. My major is dragon keeping. I have this little guy to show off in the parade" He spoke as he looked at the other, a little sorry for the spiel he was about to go on. "They are endangered, so seeing them is rare, and since they hatch so small, they hide or get eaten by bigger animals. Having one so healthy is rare, so we like to show it off." He pulled the little guy back out of his cock watching it curl in the palm of his hand. He paused a little. "You want to pet my dragon?"
the fact that there was a baby dragon just flying around the ballroom like this and happened to land on his shoulder, percy had never experienced anything like this. sure, he'd seen a fully grown one before back when he learned about magical creatures but that was from afar and it was mostly to study their behavior. once the fear wore off, he had to admit she looked kind of cute with how tired she was and how easily the guy lured her back into his pocket.
"i was never great with magical creatures, my dad always said i was too skittish." he said as he looked at her when he pulled her back out, now curled in his palm. "yeah, i would." he smiled, from here the dragon looked so cute like a little lizard or something. gently pressing his hand down, he stroked the top of the dragons head and down her back a few times.
"does your dragon have a name?"
"you're welcome. it's true. be on your toes, i would hate for someone to take advatage of that sweet face you have. but i'll happily curse them for you if you want. i know one that makes people's assholes grow teeth." at the mention of being in a fraternity finn sighed and shook his head. he never had enough time for rush and the activities they did, he would have loved to join one it just didn't align with the time he had available to him and the one year he had tried a time turner he had gotten so sick it wasn't worth it. "you should join one if you want, they seem like a lot of fun and i have some friends in them and they really enjoy it."
"percy montclair. well look at you. i can understand not wanting to throw the name around especially since you are following in your family's legacy." finn smiled and turned his own wand around offering the hand to the other male. finn had always been proud the wand had chosen him out of all his siblings. that he had been the one most special when it came to this. "want to see my wand? it's a family heirloom it's hundreds of years old. it has a white river monster spine as the core. they are illegal to use in wand making now."
"it's something i find really cool. i get to see a lot of things people normally wouldn't, experiment with magic nobody will ever get to cast. do rituals. access to a lot of really cool magical ingredients you wouldn't normally have."
while his father encouraged percy to join a fraternity, he was still a little skeptical about the entire thing. sure, his name could probably get him attention and invitations but would that be the kind that he wanted? it already felt awkward mentioning it to random people, like finn. "i might check a few of them out. see if i like the vibe or not." he wasn't thrilled about the ritual of humiliation for acceptance.
taking the others wand, percy's eyes lit up when he saw it. while he knew heirloom wands weren't unheard of among old families, it still wasn't common and he'd only seen a handful of them. "oh, she's gorgeous." he firmly held the wand in his hand, practicing a wave or two. inflexible. fingers traced along the wood, before bringing it closer to study some of the finer details. "you can really feel the history with it."
"inflexible. great condition considering how old it is. the black walnut is a classic choice." he said, brushing over the tip. "is your magic usually explosive? i'm not really familiar with white river monster spine cores, for obvious reasons."
Addison watched the purple mist of Atticus’s birds dissolve into the night, a fleeting, beautiful magic. A practiced, appreciative smile settled on his lips, the kind he reserved for observing a well-executed charm. When Atticus sat, the stone of the fountain shifted subtly, a shared warmth beginning to bleed through their clothes in the cool air. But it was the confession that followed—the raw, unguarded honesty—that truly captured Addison’s full attention.
"I'll admit, I prefer you company to everyone inside."
The words landed softly, but struck with the force of a spell. Addison didn't move, save for the slight tilt of his head. His hazel eyes, hidden behind the hard lines of his own mask, traced the line of Atticus's throat as the younger man looked up at the moon. There it was. That quality Addison found so intoxicating: a brilliant, powerful mind wrapped in a shell of unguarded earnestness. A beautiful, dangerous naivete.
"Is that so?" Addison’s voice was a low murmur, a thread of smoke weaving into the night. He turned his body fully toward Atticus, closing the small distance between them, his shoulder now aligned with the younger man's. The movement was deliberate, proprietary. He reached out, not with a wand, but with his fingers, brushing them lightly against the back of Atticus's hand where it gripped his wand. The touch was feather-light, a question and a claim simultaneously.
"Careful, Atty," he whispered, the name a deliberate, playful barrier being lowered. "Such admissions, in a place like this... they can be mistaken for something more than simple preference." He let his fingers linger, the cool night air pressing against the heat building between their skin. He could feel the reaction in Atticus's hand, the involuntary reaction to a proximity that was both thrilling and terrifying. Addison savored it. This was the quiet he preferred—not the absence of sound, but the space where only their breathing, their heartbeats, and the weight of unspoken things existed.
The muffled orchestra was irrelevant now. The true music was the silence stretching between them, charged with the electricity of Atticus's vulnerability and Addison's absolute control. He watched the moonlight catch in the gray of Atticus's eyes, and felt a familiar, possessive pull. This was a different kind of magic, one that required no incantation, only observation, patience, and the willingness to step into the darkness another person was so unwittingly offering. "I do gotta say, that among the faculty you are definitely the easiest on the eyes. You are quite handsome, my dear boy," Addison murmured, the words smooth as aged whiskey, a deliberate compliment designed to disarmed and fluster. He was not a man who offered praise lightly; when he did, it was a tool, honed and precise.
"I find your choice of words... interesting, Atticus," he continued, his voice dropping lower, the 's' sounds soft and sibilant. "You speak of books and quiet, but here you are. Chasing a different sort of silence." He shifted, the worn leather of his jacket creaking softly. He leaned in, his elbow resting on the stone behind Atticus, caging him in without touching him further. The space became smaller, more intimate. The scent of sandalwood and a faint, sharp trace of cigarette smoke from Addison's earlier evening now enveloped Atticus, a cloud as intoxicating as any love potion. "Tell me," Addison prompted, his gaze now fixed on the younger man's lips, then returning to his masked eyes. "What is it you're truly seeking out here? Away from the noise, away from your students. With me." The question hung in the air, not an inquiry but a summons.
The two professors paths seemed to constantly cross paths— both were from London who ended up attending the college after their education back home, and both co-sponsored the Wizard Chess Society together. While they were deans of different colleges, those fields seemed to run parallel to one another. Addison taught magical law and how the wizarding world functioned today while Atticus' field of study revolved around the past, ancient civilizations and digging up what they could about it.
They seemed to constantly be in orbit of one another, perhaps because of fate or how alike the two men were. “Oh, is that so?” Atticus said with a playful, flirtatious grin that curled along the edges of his lips when Addison used his nickname, the two were well acquainted at this point that the need for formalities felt foreign. “I'd hate for more words to be misconstrued.” Atticus, although typically reserved, was well spoken. Feeling the other take up the space between them, their shoulders now brushed against one another and Atticus could get a sharper look at those features. That soul that was hidden behind those hazel eyes, plump lips that could be identified when half of Addison's face was covered, and a perfectly trimmed beard that shaped that jawline.
The complimented didn't go on deaf ears, his grin seemed to only curl further until it resembled the Cheshire cat. Addison had never been so bold with Atticus before, but he welcomed it. Perhaps tonight was the time to be direct and take what you wanted, the other professor seemed to do that as he took up more space until he was the only thing that Atticus' senses could react to. The smell of his cologne mixed with the cigarette smoke was strangely intoxicating, it took everything in him to not press his face forward. “Thank you, Addison. You're quite handsome, yourself.”
Truthfully, when Atticus came outside tonight he wasn't sure what he was expecting to happen. Perhaps a stroll around the grounds before he returned to his office, but he liked Addison's company. “I've got a few ideas, Professor Blake.”Addison said, leaning forward so his fingertips brushed against the others strong jawline. “though none of them would be appropriate to do out in the open, if I can be so direct with you.”
The world, for a fleeting, crystalline moment, condensed to the single point of contact. Corvus's lips were softer than he'd anticipated, impossibly so, a stark and thrilling contrast to the hard line of the younger wizard's jaw. They were tentative at first, a press of innocent, misguided courage, then deepened with a clumsy, desperate hunger that spoke of years of parched silence. Addison didn't move, didn't respond. He simply received the gesture, letting the boy pour all his fractured longing, all his naive rebellion, into that one stolen kiss.
The scent of crushed narcissus from Corvus's mask mingled with the faint, sharp tang of champagne on his breath. It was the fragrance of youth and privilege, of a hothouse flower finally testing the strength of its own stem against a storm.
And then, it was over.
Corvus pulled back, a gasp of horror and realization hitching in his throat. The word hung between them, naked and trembling. The hand that had clutched Addison's robes went slack, but did not let go, a silent, desperate plea.
That was when Addison moved.
He did not smile. There was no triumph, no gloating satisfaction in his expression. Instead, a profound and unnerving calm settled over him, the quiet certainty of a master who had just watched a student perfectly execute a lesson they hadn't even known they were being taught. This wasn't a victory; it was a confirmation. The boy had taken the bait.
He raised a hand, slow and deliberate, and placed it over the one still clinging to his charcoal coat. His thumb stroked the fine wool and the knuckles beneath it, a gesture that was both comforting and utterly proprietary. His touch was a brand, a silent claim. He looked into the wide, terrified blue eyes, not with anger, but with a deep, invasive understanding.
"Shh," he murmured, the sound a soft command that quieted the panic thrumming in the air between them. "Don't spoil it with apologies. Don't diminish it with fear. That was the first honest thing you've done all night."
He felt Corvus tremble beneath his touch, a fine shudder that ran through the slender frame. The boy was a bundle of raw, exposed nerve endings, and Addison was the only one who knew how to soothe him. How to own him.
"You asked what happens when they tear you apart," Addison continued, his voice dropping to that hypnotic, confidential register that bypassed all reason. He leaned in again, their mouths a breath apart, close enough that Corvus could feel the warmth of his breath, close enough that he had no choice but to focus solely on him. "You learn that their teeth are dull. You learn that their roars are hollow. Or, you find someone with sharper teeth. Someone who will teach you how to bite back."
He let the implication settle, dark and potent. This was not about rebellion against a faceless crowd. This was about allegiance to him.
"Now," Addison said, his grip on Corvus's hand tightening fractionally, "let's try that again. But this time, you won't be the one taking. You'll be the one receiving."
It wasn't a request. It was a lesson.
He closed the final distance. This kiss was nothing like Corvus's fumbling, desperate attempt. It was a calculated act of possession. Addison's lips were firm, demanding, nothing like the boy's softness. He didn't seek permission; he claimed what was already his. He tasted the lingering champagne and the sweet, clean fear on Corvus's tongue, and he deepened the kiss, a slow, thorough exploration that was less about passion and more about mapping new territory.
The taste of those sweet lips, the same lips he'd daydreamt about so many times when he shared a space with the professor or saw him from across the Dining Hall. He thought about the way they curled into a smile, the laughter that pushed past them when Addison was amused. This was his first act of defiance and independent thought all night, he didn't think about the world around them or how someone could walk in on such a scandalous scene.
Those were concerns he could have later, Corvus just took the kiss in for those few fleeting seconds as he connected with the older man before pulling back and reality quickly rushing back to him. Had he misread signs that weren't there? Been too impulsive?
Under normal circumstances, Corvus' petals would close shrivel when he thought he did something wrong or impulsive. The voice of his father seemed to always be waiting in the back of his mind, ready to scold his youngest child for stepping out of line or bringing shame to the family name. Reminders that he was just another spare— disposable.
That didn't happen, his anxiety was eased when Addison didn't push away or yell at him for acting in such a way. The touch was welcomed, Corvus realized he needed it more than he anticipated. Despite being so sought after by others, the young wizard was so desperate for that simply touch. No bullshit, no etiquette to follow. Just that warmth that radiated under your skin.
Their bodies were pressed firmly against one another now, just close enough that he could feel the Addison's stubble tickle against his porcelain skin. Simply nodding, the rest of the world blurred away until it was just the two of them. The sound of the school orchestra was just a whisper, the sound of people talking was now muffled nonsense. Addison was the only thing he could focus on. “Then teach me, professor.”
Their lips pressed together again, but Addison was the one that took control in that moment. Eyes fluttering shut, the young wizard's senses focused on everything else. The smell of the professor's cologne, the taste of his lips and the tongue that now invaded the blonde's mouth, the way those rough hands felt grabbing his petite frame. It took everything to not just melt entirely into the embrace, wrapping himself around the older man like the same ivy that grew along the castle walls.
His hands reached around to feel the professor, letting his hands explore that firm and muscular chest that was hidden behind layers of robes and fabric. Corvus wanted to get away, not because he was concerned with getting caught but because he wanted to explore more of the professor and taste every inch of the man.
"Best way to prevent a sword at your back is to never allow them a chance to get one at all, Corvus." While it wasn't an exact quote of their father, it certainly held the exact same vibe and feeling of the man. Atlas had internalized quite a lot, being as old as he was. There was even a time when he could remember being the sole heir before the rest of his siblings came along. It had been a unique sort of pressure, one that had left scars and impressions that still lingered today.
There was an amused smile, however, at how eager the other was talking about a plant that most wizards wouldn't give a second thought to. "I feel like the proper thing to do here would be to admonish you for so clearly breaking the rules, but I can't fault your ingenuity." And he, more than anyone, approved of bending the rules to use them for your own ends.
A hand did reach out to brush his knuckles against the younger's jawline in a little, brief moment of intimacy that lingered for a beat or two before he dropped his hand to the table again. "And don't be silly, as if I'd ever reveal such secrets to those who have no business hearing such. Though I do have that you used that hidden stash of yours for something useful and not just pure indulgence of your love of such things." Atlas pointed out as he shifted back on his seat again.
corvus could only imagine the weight that their father put on atlas, he'd been alive an entire sixteen years before corvus came along. almost old enough to be corvus' father. was their father just as cold with atlas during those years? had he hardened over time? so many questions the little bird had, but he never asked. maybe some things were better left unanswered. “i suppose you have a point, atlas.” there was an amused smile curling along the edges of his mouth.
of course corvus saw rules as something to bend for his own benefit, he'd grown up with so much wealth and privilege that he believed he had a right to do what he wanted. plus, the devil's snare was for his own personal studying. that's what school was for. “if anyone asks, i'll say you had no clue.” he said with a smile. “though the dungeon wasn't being used, so nobody should have a problem with it.”
no amount of prep work a parent could instill into their child couuld ever prepare them for the real thing. each passing moon at wickerby had taught judas as much. always expect the unexpected, and always draw your wand first.
he hadn't expected much trouble during a night like tonight, but he definitely wouldn't let his guard down for too long either.
puzzling then, that his bored feet would lead him to a quiet part of the building, where he could most definitely be attacked.
" please, don't let me interrupt. " a mischievous smile plays at his lips as he steps out, glancing up with a raised brow. " seems like you two were getting hot and heavy before i came about. " it's playful in tone, motioning toward the spiraling ivy. " consider me your chaperone. "
and once again, there was another performance that corvus had to put on. his back stood straight up, standing rigid as he cleared his throat and turned around to find the other demigod there. the look on his face was anything but amused by those jokes that judas made, not only was he annoyed that he had been discovered by someone but that they may babble about the black brother whispering to plants.
“it's not what it looks like.” corvus was standing in the rigid, composed nature he seemed to always end up in. stoic and regal, like his family name suggested. “and i'd suggest you don't mention what you thought you heard to anyone.”
The professor’s posture, already a study in elegant repose against the fountain's stone lip, shifted infinitesimally. It was not a startle, but rather the quiet, predatory stillness of a creature that has been observed and chooses to acknowledge the observation. Addison did not turn his head immediately; instead, his gaze, sharp and analytical even through the concealing mask, slid over to track the younger man's approach. The conjured birds, an idle diversion, now became extensions of his awareness, their chirping a counterpoint to the muffled waltz from the ballroom.
A faint, wry smile touched Addison's lips, hidden by the porcelain of his mask. "Caught you?" he repeated, the words a low, resonant murmur that seemed to absorb the courtyard's ambient sounds. He gestured vaguely to the fluttering purple birds now circling the student. "I was merely ensuring my college's reputation for tranquility extended beyond the ballroom walls. Some of us find the..." He paused, searching for the word with deliberate precision, "...cacophony within to be rather uninspired."
He finally turned, angling his body slightly towards Atticus, the movement fluid and controlled. The lamplight caught the silver ring on his finger. The question hung in the cool night air, and Addison savored it. Why wasn't he inside? The answer was obvious, but the truth was a blunt instrument. He preferred the scalpel.
"I could ask you the same," he countered smoothly, his hazel eyes—luminous in the dim light—holding the student's gaze with an unnerving intensity. He let the silence stretch for a beat, a comfortable weight he was accustomed to carrying. "But I suppose not everyone appreciates the fine art of a waltz, or the subtle nuances of champagne-fueled diplomacy." He watched the way the boy stood, the slight hesitancy in his posture, the way he seemed both drawn to and intimidated by the quiet authority radiating from the seated professor.
Addison let out a soft, almost inaudible breath, a small cloud of white in the night air. "Come," he said, the command gentle but absolute, a quiet invitation that left no room for refusal. He patted the cool stone beside him on the fountain's wide ledge. "The music is better from out here. Less distortion." It was a lie, and they both knew it. From this distance, the orchestra was a mere suggestion, a haunting melody stripped of its pomp.
In all the years that Atticus had taught at Wickerby, he had never been particularly fond of these kinds of events and parties. He was someone who preferred a quiet evening in his office with a good book and bottle of wine to keep him company. Large crowds and blaring music could be overwhelming for Atticus, his mind never knew what to focus on— the beat of the music playing, the people completely surrounding him, or trying to not step on his dance partners foot? Plus, he felt like he was too old to enjoy parties like these. Atticus had always been an old soul, years ahead of his own peers when he studied at Hogwarts and then Wickerby.
When his birds discovered the other professor alone out in the courtyard, Atticus assumed that perhaps Addison felt the same. “If I wasn't the new Dean of my college I would have probably snuck away even earlier,” there were obligations to his students but they could take care of themselves. “I prefer the quiet air, I'd probably be in bed with a good book right now if the castle wasn't so loud inside.” The walls of the castle echoed with the melody that played within the ballrooms.
With a wave of his wand, Atticus' birds flew back to him and evaporated into purple mist that hung for a few seconds as he approached the other man and sat down besides him on the edge of the fountain. He studied the other for a moment, those hazel eyes that seemed to be gifted with seeing through whoever caught Addison's attention. The sound of the schools orchestra could barely be heard out here, barely a whisper of what the two were missing out on.
“I'll admit, I prefer you company to everyone inside.” Atty confessed, idly running his fingers over the end of his wand as he spoke. Those gray eyes of his, hidden behind a mask covered in owl feathers, looked up to the moon that hung over the castle alongside the stars that glistened.
A predatory satisfaction curled in Addison's chest, warm and potent. The boy was perfect. Corvus hadn't recoiled at the proximity; he had leaned into it, a thirsty plant angling toward a hidden spring of water. The initial stammering, the apology held back by a bite of his own lip—it was all part of the same exquisite performance of a controlled soul unmoored from its handlers. Addison hadn't merely breached the boy's defenses; he had walked through the open gate he'd just unlatched, and now Corvus himself was asking him to explore the grounds.
He let the question hang in the cool night air, letting the weight of it settle between them. What are you suggesting, exactly? The boy's gaze had dropped to his mouth, a flicker of pure, unguarded curiosity that was far more telling than any confession. Addison saw it not just as desire, but as a search for meaning, for an experience real enough to shatter the glass of the performance he'd described. This wasn't about seduction; it was about revelation. And he was the only one who could provide it.
A slow smile touched Addison's lips, a curve that was an answer and then a deflection. He didn't answer the question directly. To name it would be to cheapen it, to turn it into a simple transaction. Instead, he pushed off the railing, the movement smooth and deliberate. He turned to face Corvus fully, their bodies now aligned, the line of his shoulder an inch from the boy's chest. He raised a single gloved hand, not to touch, but to gesture vaguely at the world beyond the balcony, at the glittering facade of the ballroom, at the entire edifice of Corvus's life.
"I'm suggesting," Addison began, leaning in, the murmur so close it filled the space between them, "that a lifetime of following a script is a kind of death. A slow, quiet one where the spirit rots long before the body." His hazel eyes held the younger man's, locking them in place. "You talk of performance. You know the steps, the timing, the precise tilt of your head. You know how to make them believe you are everything they want you to be. But you don't know what happens when the music stops."
Now, he moved. His gloved fingers came up, not to caress, but to gently trace the line of the boy's jaw, the silk a cool, firm pressure against his skin. The touch was proprietary, an appraisal of fine goods. He felt the subtle tremor that ran through Corvus, the minute hitch in his breath. It was intoxicating, this power to affect such a carefully constructed creature with so little effort.
"I'm suggesting," Addison continued, his thumb stroking once over the corner of Corvus's mouth, a fleeting, possessive gesture, "that you learn to play an instrument of your own. That you find a melody so discordant, so utterly yours, that the audience doesn't know whether to applaud or run." He let his hand fall away, leaving a ghost of warmth in its wake. He saw the boy's eyes flutter, saw the dawning comprehension and the fear warring with the hunger in them.
He had offered the boy a key. Now, he just had to watch him decide whether or not to use it. He didn't press further. He simply held Corvus's gaze, a silent challenge in the depths of his own, letting the tension build until it was a living thing between them, crackling with unspoken possibility. He was a patient hunter. He knew the prey would eventually break cover. He had merely to show it the way out of the cage.
Something about Addison was… alluring. Like a siren luring sailors to their deaths with a sweet melody that rang in your veins or a beautiful Venomous Tentacula waiting for its prey to get close enough before wrapping those vines around you when it was too late. He wondered if the professor had the same effect on his eldest brother, who surely had to interact with the dean. Or perhaps Atlas was immune to the charm that dripped with each word that Addison spoke.
Corvus was normally more guarded, never letting his mask slip around others and yet it seemed to slip when he felt like he was truly seen by someone. No need to explain why he was so interested in the ivy that grew along the castle walls, no need to stand so rigidly composed that his joints felt stiff at his young age of twenty. For the first time, it felt like Corvus could simply just breathe around someone else.
Their bodies were aligned, it took everything in the blonde to not pull himself closer to the professor and anchor himself to the man. There was that need to feel connected to someone, to not just feel seen but feel whole. “You say that like it's so easy, Professor Blake.” he said, studying the others hazel eyes once more. Of course he wanted to do what he wanted, to live for himself… he was studying healing magic because of its overlap with what he was actually passionate about. Corvus still raised his plants, still read his books, in private of course. “And what happens when I play a song to the beat of my own heart and the crowd decides to tear me apart?” When he was all alone, everyone's backs turned to him. Perhaps he was thinking too hard about what Addison was implying, but these fears had manifested to the front of his mind since childhood. Fear and terror were effective tools to keep a child well behaved, regardless of the impact it left on the individual.
Feeling that gloved hand brush against his jawline, studying it.. he leaned into it like a touch deprived animal and closed his eyes. He didn't want to think of the world around him, worry about who might stumble on him right now and pull him back into a world that was all too suffocating. Corvus didn't want to have to think out every word or action he said, simply just spend the night with Blake and live for once.
Chewing on the other's words, those blue eyes fluttered open once more and pierced past the simple mask his professor was wearing. “I want to take the world into my own hands, craft my own path…” his hand reached, grabbing onto those robes to pull Addison closer to him so he could smell that sandalwood once more. “Right now, you're what I want, professor.” It was foolish. Not only could this cause a scandal, but the man was old enough to be his father.
For the first time, Corvus didn't think. He leaned forward to press his lips against the others, feeling the facial hair press against his smooth skin while he finally tasted Addison.
“I…” the student said, once reality came back to him and he realized what he had done but was at a lost for words.
