Bitterly, Charles spoke, ignoring what she had to say until she listened to him. She had made a fool of him and whatever the charm was doing to him seemed to be quickly turning to anger. Either that, or the alcohol was taking hold.

“Put your wand down,” he practically ordered, unwavering in his tone.

Charles hated himself sometimes; when he had to act like this – or when he did act like this. With or without alcohol, with or without animalistic urges prying to be unleashed; he was known to have moments like this. His career practically demanded it sometimes. But to… this person. She was hiding from society and providing a sanctuary to those who needed it. She hadn’t done anything wrong.

Until she forced herself on him and tried to blackmail him, that was.

And when she had, all cards were off the table. It didn’t matter what noble goal she had. It just showed she was as corrupt as most people in the slums were.

“So instead you force yourself on men to get what you want? Or to blackmail them?” He hissed, wand still raised. He didn’t care about why she had hid at this point – he was too focused on making her sorry for her actions.

Not that he was going to do anything.
He hoped.

He’d deal with his own feelings on this situation after.

---

  

She was scared and it showed, especially once forced to put her wand down, granted it was still within reach, but what was to stop him from casting mid grasp. In addition the potions she had used to make her look like a male were beginning to ware off. The excess hair shed away, the tone of her voice grew in pitch, her height came down a bit. Soon what stood before him was a strikingly beautiful woman in baggy drag.

Deep hues of chocolate embedded behind almond shape lids pleaded silently for mercy while plump succulent lips quivered in anticipation of what he might do. Her voice though seized with worry sounded of the sweetest angel, "Only when..." She had to fight to keep her baring, her tongue wiping across her upper lip, "When they threaten to out my deepest secret which could possibly leave me and my family homeless, destitute, and with no other option but prostitution." She said. "We can't turn to the muggle work houses, all churches consider us demons at best..." She took a deep breath but could not stop the tears from rolling down her porcelain cheeks. "If you were to tell anyone, I could loose everything I've worked for over my entire life. Would you honestly not do the same?"

  

Charles swallowed.
Fuck. He hated Veela sometimes.
It wasn’t that he was prejudice, he just didn’t like not being in control and not being able to stop it and that was exactly what they stood for. Their very being relied on their ability to manipulate someone and twist them to do their bidding. They were like sexy Imperius curses with a body. You were helpless to them – except half-Veela. Though their powers still had some hold, at least Charles could hold back on whatever she was doing.

He could feel his body pulling itself toward her and the harder he resisted, the more difficult it became. He took a step back, his wand never-faltering in its aim.

“Just stop,” he said – bitterly, “and you thought you’d hide that from me and try to blackmail me with that knowledge?” He practically spat.

Charles would deal with her emotions after he got his message out loud and clear, “I have no intention of ruining anyone’s lives. That’s not what I do. But let’s say I did go and tell someone, and your little plan came to fruition – your staff, all half-breeds, I assume? – all corroborate with your story. And this… charm you had over yourself. A charm, right? Or a potion? Either way, there are counters to them both. Or, alternatively, I could simply have had Veritaserum administered to you. Or had a legilimens pry at your head in search of more answers. See what you are hiding. Then you would be in trouble.” At this point, he could feel himself wanting to do more than he was doing – not violent, not angrily… but passionately. He inhaled deeply and swallowed once again, adjusting his position before speaking firmly, “I want an apology,” Charles’ hand twisted around his wand firmly, his eyes unmoving from her inviting stare, “now.”

---

  

Stop? Stop what? He was the one pointing a wand at her in her own establishment no less! This man was clearly mental, and Felicity was at a lost for what to do as her heart began to race and the panic began to rise. "Uhm...sorry?" That was the word he wanted to use right? She shrunk back even further, back against the wall when her Veela bloodline really began to kick in out of self defense.

Was there a breeze in the room? Tendrils of her brown locks began to blow under an amber hue of desire, set off by what little light the candles breathed into the room. What about that shirt? The neck ran a bit deep now that it didn't properly fit. A bit of supple flesh exposed along with hardened nipples protruding beneath the cloth. All perhaps a bit see through as her hands were clutched at the fibers, stretching them down so as to contain the need that appeared to boil within, and what had she said or was that a repressed whimper?

She couldn't go all bird demon on the bastard, so it appeared her DNA had another way of deflecting the matter of danger.

  

Butterflies twisted inside of his stomach like a tornado about to transform into a hurricane, his entire essence coursed with desire begging for him to lower his wand and give in to his urges. His eyes traced down her dark brown locks of hair, across her collarbone and down to her chest before he lowered his wand.

He couldn’t do this and he didn’t want to. He could feel every fibre in his body willing him to move toward her, to ravish her as she was so desperately asking. He wanted to. No.

He didn’t. She – her powers – wanted him to.

He inhaled deeply and lowered his wand before turning around and slamming his fists into a nearby dresser. This was not what how he expected this small intel-gathering adventure to go. If he’d had known how this would pan out, he would not have come here.

Turning back around, Charles put his wand away and adjusted his trousers, “you know how difficult this is for me – stop it.” His voice was quaking out of wanting and desperation.

It was as if he was being pulled in one direction but he was pushing himself in the other. He could feel himself being torn in two. It was no wonder people considered these beings dangerous.

“I’m… going back downstairs and you… you are going to come down with me and… apologise.” You couldn’t say Charles didn’t have conviction in his words; he knew what he wanted, and he was intending on getting it. He wasn’t going to risk touching her – fearing what he would do – and it was killing him. But he wanted everyone who saw to know he had the upper hand.

---

  

Felicity jumped and squeaked as he turned away and punched the dresser. "Stop what?" She really didn't understand, "I can't be anything but me..." She stated if he was referring to her being a veela, though she was oblivious of the degree her charm was working. Then he stated he wanted her to go back to the front, and apologize.

Her eyes widened and she shook her head, "Your one out of 8 people that know, please...don't make me go out there and admit to others the truth, let them think it was a drunken misunderstanding. Only people I absolutely trust know. Please, please!" She dropped down on her knees, hands clasped, tears trailing down her cheeks, but to him well she probably could be begging to suck his cock. "I'm sorry. Alright, I'm sorry for trying to blackmail you, for...for trying to seduce you." It was the oddest thing to ever pass her lips because she did such without ever really trying, but desperate times called for desperate measures, and she indeed to was desperate.

Desperate as her knees bent with her legs slightly sprawled and her back slightly arched. Pheromones wafting through the air hinting at unspeakable lust. Oh how she must want him, need him. Desire coating her tender folds as her bosom swelled in anticipation of his touch. Yes desperate for him to take her as he wished and defy all sense of reason under her silken touch.

  

He could hear her talking, asking what it was he wanted her to stop but every time a syllable left her lips, he could feel her breath caress at his ears. He could feel her body moving. He could sense the pain she was clearly feeling, the desperation to keep her secret – that she wanted it to stop – but that meant nothing. It meant nothing against whatever tricks her half-breed powers were playing on him.

“Forget it,” He said as he pulled out his wand and aimed it at the door, casting the unlocking charm and stepping outside. His face was bright red; there were beads of sweat forming over his skin, his clothing was damp to the touch. He didn’t know what to do – he only knew what she was willing him to do and it would have been so easy to just do it. To just allow every carnal desire within his body to flood from him at once, taking over his very essence. But he couldn’t.

He didn’t want to take her, this vulnerable woman with beautiful hazel eyes. He didn’t want to feel her teeth – her nails – scratching, tugging, pulling against his skin. He wanted it but he didn’t.

If he did anything, that was it. He couldn’t. He couldn’t do that to Emmeline. And he supposed that was what gave him the strength so far to not act on his urges. Granted, he believed were she a full Veela, that would have been it. But her powers weren’t as potent – she was only a half-breed. It was hard, but not impossible. And it was a miracle how much willpower one could summon when the stakes were high.

“I’ll see you downstairs, and we will talk,” Charles swallowed before adjusting himself once again and heading back downstairs – this time, he didn’t apparate. He wasn’t in a fit state to. Instead, he walked back to the front-of-house and stared at the staff who were still there – waiting. He grabbed the bottle and took a hefty swig out of it.

He also knew that the staff here probably didn’t know her little secret. It was in her court how she played the next move.

What the fuck kind of night had this turned out to be?

---

  

Felicity breathed a sigh of relief when he finally left. She had had instances with others end worse, and those memories still plagued her both in mind in body. For a solid ten minutes she wept, hating who she was and fearing what he could now do should he decide to reveal her little secret. How could this night have gone so terribly wrong?

After a time she took a breath and regathered herself and with a steady a hand as she could manage and her potions at her disposal she transformed herself into Philip Gallagher once more. Where the hell was Trevor when she needed him? She stepped outside her room only to run into a huge figure, it was William, her usher and part giant. "Little fella alright? Can get rid of him." He assured her, his big hand stroked her hair.

"I'm alright big fella, and no, let him stay. He's...He's Ministry and he knows."

William looked anxious at hearing that and shifted from one foot to the next. "What's Little fella gonna do?"

Felicity took a breath. "Whatever I have to." It was the truth. She took another breath or two and stepped back into the front of the house, the staff who were cleaning were pretending not to notice, but she or rather once again he, knew better. She spoke with ease and confidence, though her voice was deep once more. One would think that the incident had never occurred in the back. "Sorry about the confusion Mr. Caulfield, as you can tell everything is up to par here and the Golden Hearth Theatre, and mind you your reputation is SAFE with us." She said making sure they all heard, the man was off limits to slander.

  

After what seemed like an eternity, Charles glanced upward to see her standing back and speaking. He nodded at her words and placed the bottle down before raising to his feet from where he was perched.

“I’m glad to see you have everything in order,” he stated calmly, making sure to keep his distance from her, “and rest assured – the Ministry wishes to keep all safe. Including those who come here.”

With that, he turned around and walked from the building confident that she would read between the lines. Perhaps they could come to a mutually beneficial agreement.

What a strange night this had turned out to be.

[FIN]

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