As she held onto Mr. Beauregard for dear life, Poppy hoped against hope nobody would find her in such a terribly brazen position. She was entirely in his arms and under any other circumstances, the very thought would be enough to make her reach for a fan! (He was incredibly handsome after all.) Today however, as Mr. Owen Beauregard lifted her like a feather and reached for his wand, Poppy desperately hoped that he could manage to assist! And multitask, she supposed.

“I am holding still,” the brunette tried, watching the wand tip move left and right. There was a gentle flick and then slowly Poppy felt something tingle and tug free from her leg. A breath caught in her throat as the head of the serpent appeared from under her skirts. Turning away in disgust, Poppy settled her free hand gently on the back of Mr. Beauregard’s head. His hair was surprisingly soft and she focused in on it to keep the swirling feeling from her stomach. If her fingers started to card through his locks nervously, it was an unconscious action.

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