June 17th, 1888 - Yaxley Home, Wellingtonshire

I sold my soul to a three-piece
And he told me I was holy
He’s got me down on both knees
But it’s the devil that's tryna...
-Halsey

It was utterly ridiculous. The fog was perhaps the worst thing to ever happen to Phoebe. Well, other than being forced to marry the spineless Gregory Yaxley. He was just as useless as her wand was thanks to the damnable fog. And then, then she found out that someone in the kitchens had let some vagrant into her house. At least, that's what the man sitting at a table in the kitchen looked like when she'd wandered in to try and find something that could dull the headache should could feel throbbing in her temples.

"And who the bloody hell are you?" she asked, delicate brows arched high as she narrowed her crystal blue eyes on the man. She knew exactly who worked for her and he was most certainly not one of them. Whoever let him in would be fired immediately. Rubbing her temples, she waited for a response rather impatiently.

---

  

Hogsmeade.
The land of snow, magic, a park, and lots of rich people who enjoyed taking drugs. The kind of drugs, as luck would have it, that Coleman Beasley was able to provide. He had a satchel full of pills coated in either gold or silver – depending on how much he was to be paid. Some had varnish on them. There was no difference in them but people often associated gold with wealth and therefore, Coleman had figured, were willing to pay more if they were covered in gold. He also had a few dried leaves he’d found in a muggle chemist, advertised as an ingredient in some nerve and muscle tonic. He’d seen it ground and turned into a white powder though he himself preferred to just chew the leaf. It made him feel driven and relaxed at the same time.

Getting to Hogsmeade was absolutely fine. He’d used the floo on the 12th June and wandered around a bit, selling a few varnish-covered pills for a few sickles. Small money but he always underpriced his cheaper pills. Get them hooked and he could reel them in. When he wasn’t trying his own goods himself and giving them away for free, that was.

Unfortunately, by the 13th, it seemed as though there was a fog and however hard he tried shaking his wand, he just couldn’t use magic to disperse the fog. Of course. He was going to die. This was it. He could see the Grim Reaper heading toward him and his life flashed before his eyes. Wait. No. That was a man with a lantern. Coleman sighed and popped a pill into his mouth as he ventured around.

He wasn’t too sure what happened over the next few days but despite finding his way out of the fog and finding food every now and then, he always seemed to find himself back in the depths of the fog.

By the 17th June, Coleman was twitchy. His supplies were running low and the apocalypse was here. He was never going to see his brothers again. He was never going to use magic again. His life was well and truly over. Having had enough, Coleman slammed his fists into the first door he could see and pleaded for them to let him in. They clearly felt sorry for him but they happily took one of his remaining pills in exchange for some warmth and solitude away from the fog. Was this what it was like in the middle of nowhere? At least he had a new home, he supposed. At least for the meantime.

Sitting at the table munching on a warm roll, Coleman snapped his eyes toward the shrill voice and instinctively grabbed his bag, “Bloody is a really bad word,” Coleman huffed with a mouth full of bread, “It reminds me of blood.” He swallowed, “And blood is sticky. And red. And red, Miss whoever-you-are, is not a nice colour. It reminds me of blood. And blood is sticky.” Coleman nodded.

---

  

Phoebe couldn't help but to stare at the strange man sitting in her kitchen. Someone wasn't getting fired. No, she'd kill them for letting such a freak into her home. What in Merlin's beard had they been thinking!?

"You need to leave," she ground out through bared teeth, her eyes narrowed on him, "And if you aren't gone by the time I find a pain potion, I'll make sure you're in need of one yourself." She wasn't quite sure what she'd do to harm the man since her wand was useless. Perhaps a frying pan to the head. No, that was too messy. Though she wouldn't have to clean up the mess and someone else could handle the disposal of the body. Maybe a frying pan would work after all.

She moved away then, headed to the pantry in search of what she wanted to quell the pain in her head.

---

  

No. He did not need to leave. Coleman sluggishly shook his head and took another bite of the bread, making no attempt to move – let alone leave. Did she see what was outside? Of course not! Nothing was outside. It was a void. A black abyss of no magic and fog. Next, the entire world would vanish.

Coleman’s eyes suddenly widened though as she spoke and he watched as she walked away, “I think my brothers have vanished. I think the fog ate them.” He said with his sudden realisation. The fog had eaten them! Was it in London too? Had it consumed the entire world? Oh, no. All that was left was the people in this house. Perhaps in this kitchen.

As she searched through the pantry, Coleman felt his eyes drift down her body to rest firmly on her backside, “I have some pills.” He shrugged as he reached into the bag and pulled out a varnish-covered pill, “But,” his head then moved to look back at his bread and he took another bite, “I want another bun.”

---

  

Phoebe rolled her eyes as the crazy man continued talking. It didn't sound like he was getting up to leave, which, was quite infuriating. Until he mentioned having pills. That was enough to pique her curiosity.

Standing up straight, she turned around to look at the man as he made his request. "You can have as many buns as you want if your pills will take care of this damned headache," she said as she walked back toward him, grabbing the basket of bread on the counter near her and bringing it with her. She set it on the table then stuck her hand out to him, "What is it exactly?"

---

  

OH. MERLIN. Coleman grinned widely at the bread as if it was Christmas. Once she held out her hand, Coleman’s eyes drifted down her body before turning to her hand. He leaned in close, eyes narrowed, and then looked up at her confused as he ripped open another bread roll with his teeth, “That’s your hand.”

What a weird question to ask.

---

  

Phoebe's eyes narrowed on him again. This man really was an idiot. She'd have to get whatever pills it was he was speaking of then see to it he was kicked out. Bodily.

"The pill, you idiot," she said, hand still out, "What type of pill is it? The pill that you're going to put in my hand so I can take the damned thing." If she wasn't going to have to spell everything out to him down to the very letter she may very well kill him where he sat.

---

  

“No, that’s your hand. It’s not a pill,” Coleman shrugged. It was at this moment, as he ripped into the bread once again, he realised he was holding a pill. How on earth did that get there?

“It’s nice,” He said and placed it in her hand. “Swallow it and sit down.” His eyes found themselves resting in line with her chest. They were fixed in place. It was impossible to move them further.

“That head pain will go and you’ll be… erm…” He said, still staring, as he took another bite, “This bread is good.”

---

  

A sound of annoyance left Phoebe's lips as he continued on about her hand. There was something wrong with this man. But as he was offering her pills, she could only imagine the kind of stuff he already had in his system. Maybe what he was offering would be fun in general.

She wasn't oblivious to where his gaze had fallen though and it brought a smirk to her face. How lovely would it be to bed some stranger right in her husband's house? That would be fun. She closed her hand around the pill and sauntered away, making a point to sway her hips just a bit more than she normally would. A quick glass of water was retrieved before she made her way back to the small table and slid in behind him to sit at a chair set up against the wall.

"Promise not to take advantage of me?" she questioned with a raised brow before promptly downing the pill.

---

  

Coleman’s eyes drifted downward a little as her hips swayed from left to right and he could feel his head moving in tandem with her movements. There was also a little stir of something else though he wasn’t inclined to go checking right now. Once she’d moved behind him, he turned to watch her and almost gasped at her question.

“No,” He said, swallowing his bread. Why would he do that? Coleman would never ever do such a thing. After a moments pause, he realised what he’d said and corrected himself, “I won’t do that.” That’ll clear it up.

Pulling out another pill for himself, Coleman swallowed it and leaned back a little, closing his eyes. He knew how long it took for these to kick in and it wasn’t long.

About five minutes passed and he looked back at her with glazed over eyes, “I like your eyes.” He said, lulling his head to the side. His voice was almost distant; a calm that could only be explained as a distant breath of wind you could see causing the trees to sway during a summers day.

---

  

Phoebe smirked. As she took it, he was saying he wouldn't promise to not take advantage of her. She could work with that.

She watched him as he took his own pill. Watched as he closed his eyes and apparently just waited. After the five minutes had passed, she felt it. The sudden calm and relaxation. It was..incredible. Like something she'd never experienced before. And clearly she'd been missing out.

"I like your curls," she found herself saying though it didn't really sound like her. She reached out then, softly to loop one of the said curls around a long and dainty finger. "Mmm," she all but moaned, "Soft."

---

  

Coleman rolled his head as her fingers explored his hair; her nails parting his curls and sending shivers down his spine with each miniscule of movements. He could feel his chest tighten a little and his stomach knot; his heartbeat sped up and he swallowed. His body was reacting to the touch of this woman and the opium was telling his body that it was reacting in all the wrong ways. But, and as it always did, it felt so right.

The haze of the air was met with her soft, captivating words as they wrapped around his ears and all but consumed his soul. His eyes drifted to her lips and he leaned toward her, reaching out and tracing her mouth using his index finger. His touch was gentle, barely there, as if he was feeling the air in front of her and not her skin. He bit his lower lip and inhaled, “Told you.”

---

  

Phoebe continued to hum lightly at the feel of his soft curls. She watched his face closely, almost as if she could really see through him to his very core. To see just how he reacted to her very tender touch. It was really quite fascinating.

She had been so enthralled with the feel of his curls and watching his expressions that she hadn't seen his hand coming toward her until she felt the feather light touch on her lips. Her eyelids fluttered shut at the feel of it, eyes nearly rolling into the back of her head at the sensation. "Mmhmm," she hummed again, "It doesn't hurt." Her voice was quiet and slow, simply reveling in the feelings.

---

  

Her voice - her soft, tender tones - wisped around the room like a feather chasing the bird it fell from. His eyes drifted in and out of focus, pulsing along to his heartbeat as it matches his movements; slow, gentle, and almost subdued in their intent.

He enjoyed the sensations that came with his special pills. The relaxed mist that flowed over him as the opium took hold and the sombre and docile tones as his words dripped cooly from his mouth, "I hope not," he spoke - these were what made him savour his moments of ecstasy.

This was slightly different, though. He could feel a strange connection with this girl; an unexplained forced that seemed to be pulling the two together and as their breaths danced with one another, his touch drifted to chase her jawline and down her neck, resting on her shoulder.

He'd forgotten about his bread and in this moment, all else ceased to exist and what remained was him and her. And there was nothing else more important in this moment than understanding and absorbing every little detail about her.

---

  

His touch sent chills of pure ecstasy to surge through all of Phoebe's body. It didn't matter that he was touching her face and neck, she felt it all the way down to the tips of her toes. It brought a soft moan from her lips and she found herself leaning closer to him and his touch. She wanted to feel the gentle hands all over her in that very moment. It felt like nothing she'd ever felt before and she was far from some sweet innocent.

"Don't stop," she murmured, even though he was hardly touching her. She just couldn't quite seem to put the right words together to actually ask for what she wanted.

---

  

The instant she moved closer to him, Coleman could feel his hand press firmly against her collarbone and it was in that instant that a surge of something unexplainable permeated through his blood - coursing around his body at a million miles an hour, willing itself to be released.

Her words - her moan - only exacerbated this feeling and no sooner had she spoke, had the drug-fuelled brother of the Beasley's moved his hand to hold her by the neck. His touch was still gentle and he wanted to consume her; his fingers digging lightly upward, his eyes fixed on her lips. He wanted more. He wanted this feeling that was rushing through him to penetrate her very body; he wanted her to feel what he was feeling, to experience every pulse, every contraction. He needed her to be one with him.

Leaning toward her, Coleman pressed his lips against hers, his eyes drifting to close.

---