Welcome to Charming, where swirling petticoats, the language of flowers, and old-fashioned duels are only the beginning of what is lying underneath…
After a magical attempt on her life in 1877, Queen Victoria launched a crusade against magic that, while tidied up by the Ministry of Magic, saw the Wizarding community exiled to Hogsmeade, previously little more than a crossroad near the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. In the years that have passed since, Hogsmeade has suffered plagues, fires, and Victorian hypocrisy but is still standing firm.
Thethe year is now 1895. It’s time to join us and immerse yourself in scandal and drama interlaced with magic both light and dark.
With the same account, complete eight different threads where your character interacts with eight different usergroups. At least one must be a non-human, and one a student.
Did You Know?
Braces, or suspenders, were almost universally worn due to the high cut of men's trousers. Belts did not become common until the 1920s. — MJ
She responded to the security of his embrace, leaning back into him, shifting until she started to feel actually comfortable again. Her muscles were starting to ache where her tremors had been, and the security Dean offered provided warmth and relaxation back to her limbs.
Hanna's mouth twisted with amusement. "The wall," she said, "But your wall, I think."
They could not keep doing this forever — but wouldn't it be nice for him to think of her more often, and after they were done?
Dean felt a little better as she relaxed back into him. He liked the pressure of it and he couldn't feel her shaking anymore, which was also a relief.
"Right above the mantle?" He eyed it critically, trying to ease into the change of subject so he didn't get stuck in the rut of trying to figure out what happened. Either she would tell him or she wouldn't, it wasn't like she had to, even if he wished she'd trust him with whatever it was.
The space above the fireplace was bare currently. Dean, for all he traveled, didn't pick up much in the way of trinkets or souvenirs unless they were for other people. "I'll run out of space eventually."
She tilted her head and squinted, the most significant expression she'd made since he got home, and studied that same mantle space. "Looks good," Hanna said. Without looking, she clicked a few more pieces into place. She'd done so many puzzles over the last several years that it was almost automatic now.
"How many puzzles are you planning to buy me?" she teased.
Dean chuckled at her agreement. It would give the space some much needed character. Before this year, Dean hadn't exactly spent a plethora of time at home, he was either traveling or socializing to avoid being home. Now he was here all the time, maybe he ought to put more thought into the decor.
The answer to her question sort of tumbled out before he could really think about what he was saying. "As many as you want for as long as you'll let me." It was the truth though. Dean knew he'd stumbled far over the line of what was meant to be something casual and he hoped he was doing a good job of reigning it in.
Sometimes he couldn't help but to wonder what if. And that was there lines like that tended to spill from.
Hanna pressed her lips together; she had warring impulses to smile or to frown, and did not want to do either. "Dean," she cautioned, "Do you remember the beach?"
He shouldn't be doing this; he shouldn't be as attached to her as he evidently was. Because he was the one who wasn't the marrying type.
"I remember the beach," he said quietly as he tapped the puzzle. He still wasn't really sure of her motivation that night, but it was where her lessons had come from, how they'd sort of ended up here. Their casual agreement that she thought might even last into an eventual marriage. That had Dean considering breaking his own rules again, in ways only certain people could get him to. It was dangerous territory, but he'd always been an idiot for people he loved.
This time she did frown, the expression immediately severe on her face. She looked up at him. "Then why do you say things like that?" Hanna asked.
The words came out blunter than she'd met them, and she felt that rush in her veins again — she was stressed. She pressed her thumb into the edge of a puzzle piece to ground herself.
It was probably a good thing he couldn't really see her face, because he would have gone backsliding into making a joke or trying to lighten things up at the frown.
But since he couldn't— "Because I didn't feel like I do now back then." He hadn't known her as well then; hadn't confessed some of his deepest personal secrets yet and been meet with curiosity and understanding; hadn't watched her dance with other men with a sting of jealousy biting at his throat; hadn't had her underneath him barely dressed and panting, driving him crazy. A year was a long time to change one's mind.
But still, he knew he couldn't give her what she wanted if what she wanted was a traditional marriage, with all of the trappings. If that was the case and she'd figured him out, maybe they ought to put a stop to this tonight.
He wasn't built for normal, but it could be a part of his life, if he could fit all the pieces together.
She dropped the puzzle piece on the table, wiggled her way around in his arms until she was facing him — (and quietly very aware that she was essentially sitting on his lap. None of this situation, start to finish, was dignified for her — and maybe this was part of why she could not feel particularly guilty about her bluntness.)
"And how do you feel?" Hanna asked, her face now inches from his. Her frown had lessened in severity, there was still the downturned purse of her lips and her furrowed eyebrows.
"You really can't see it, can you?" He didn't mean it harshly, but he was still sort of astounded that he wasn't blatantly obvious. He kept her favorite wine in the cupboard just like he kept Don Juan's cigarettes in the nightstand; had bought a puzzle table for his house to make her feel more at home; had gone and taken a risk with the other most important person in his life just to keep her around.
He let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. She was so close he could just close the gap and show her, but she had told him once that she needed words and he wasn't going to disappoint. "I know it's not fair, because I can't give you a normal marriage and there are parts of my life, people, I won't give up, but that didn't stop me from falling in love with you." Against his better judgement, against all things casual and what he'd said a year ago on the beach, he'd gone and done exactly what he shouldn't have. And he didn't regret it.
Hanna stared at him and blinked rapidly. She was confident that she was out of her panic from earlier, but that did not stop her from briefly wondering whether or not she was imagining things. But no, Dean Hudson — the man who did casual, who was not ready to settle down, who was not monogamous and did not want to be — had gone and fallen in love with her.
It was bad enough for Hanna to have to wrangle her own feelings, let alone his. Her eyes were wide, her eyebrows drawn together and her mouth still curved downwards in a slight pout.
There were multiple responses on the tip of his tongue; he could list the little ways it had happened or the small details he remembered about her that she might not even remember telling him. He could show her, but he felt like none of it was going to get through to her if she didn't even think it was possible.
"Well, it's true, I don't throw words around without meaning them." He framed her face with his hands gently. "And it certainly doesn't make things any easier or more clear, and I understand if that's not what you want or how you feel." If she still wanted casual, still wanted to look for her happy marriage with a little fun on the side, he might be able to handle it; better some Hanna than no Hanna.
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