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
Trystan was being an utter cad. He had begun his campaign of getting on her nerves (and playing with her heart, though she would never admit to as much) the moment they entered the ballroom by casting his eyes over the debutantes and making a comment about how well one of them looked. It was especially annoying that the debutante happened to be his bastard daughter and she couldn't even take comfort in his simply being lascivious.
They had danced, once, and not with much gusto as Ambrosia found the room altogether too warm for exertion and she was not about to make a spectacle of herself by perspiring in public. She chatted to the other ladies, smiled at their husband's, politely declined three dances and drank her champagne sparingly - altogether it was likely to be a night untroubled by much note and Ambrosia excused herself for a breath of air with indolence.
The Ironbelly was rather impressive, she supposed, though it was mostly unoccupied while the dancing was still in full flight and the fireworks hours away so Ambrosia took the opportunity to climb the stairs until she found a platform that was empty.
Or so she had thought before a figure emerged from the shadows.
"Mr Prewett," she stared at him for a moment, allowing her eyes to adjust. "I would not have thought to find you alone at a ball positively overflowing with young ladies to woo."
"Even when they all pale so dreadfully in comparison to yourself, Mrs. Selwyn?" Fitzroy teased in answer, allowing his eyes to rove briefly over the socialite's chosen outfit for the evening, appreciable even in the dim lighting the platform provided.
Indeed, he had been enjoying himself with the many debutantes present; he had long ago discovered that his charm and good looks more than made up for his status as a second son. He had dance twice with Miss Zabini, once with her sister, and taken many turns with a number of young ladies, but it was the mothers that had chased him into the belly (well, onto the wing) of the replica beast. True, Mrs. Selwyn was a mother in her own right, but this was a fact that could be largely ignored.
The Prewetts, by and large, were a family Ambrosia generally had the time of day for. It was rather unfortunate that she found herself in the window of neither needing to entice a husband or needing to marry off a daughter as there were good pickings to be had from even the second and third son of the pack, though Ambrosia supposed if she had to be critical Faustus Prewett would have been her primary focus.
But it was hardly for lack of merit on the part of Fitzroy Prewett.
“I’m sure a gentleman such as yourself would be generous enough to overlook such a deficit in a young lady?” She replied, eyebrow raised and the barest hint of a smile at her lips as she glanced out at the view. “One cannot expect too much from them after all.”
He was far too smooth for his own good and, for better or worse, reminded her rather of Trystan. Only this handsome charmer hadn't put her through the ringer with his collection of bastards and wards so Ambrosia was entirely disposed towards him. Rather more than she ought to be if she were being honest with herself.
"I shall have to make myself scarce from society then. I hear your mother is determined to see you married and I would hate to make the choice harder by tempting you with something you cannot have."
Fitzroy frowned—at the mention of his mother or the words cannot have, he could not be altogether certain. The words can't I? danced at the tip of his tongue, but even Fitz Prewett would not be so bold without a sure invitation.
Instead, he answered after a beat, "My mother, I think, is destined to be disappointed, at least for another year or two. I am a widower, after all, not a bachelor of nearly thirty; I have earned my share of leeway to explore...my interests."
His eyes met hers, making it quite clear what those interests were. The fact that his first marriage had not lasted a year was, in his estimation, decidedly irrelevant.
A lesser woman might have visibly shuddered at such a handsome man making his interest quite so obviously known but Ambrosia was a woman well accustomed to such flattering words. Her husband was full of them – amongst other things.
“And do you explore them often, Mr Prewett?” She asked, taking a step towards him before altering her course and approaching the railing on the edge of the dragon viewing platform. She wrapped a hand around the rail, tilting her head back towards him. “I’m sure you have ample opportunity.”
Ambrosia's got 99 problems but this hot af set from MJ ain't 1 of them
She came close and then veered away, teasing. Fitz might have groaned if the chase wasn't so enjoyable. He stalked her movements, first with his gaze, then with his body.
"If life has taught me anything," he answered, coming up alongside her, "it is to seize any opportunity that presents itself." The distance between them could not be considered respectable; indeed, his grip upon the railing was a mere hand's-witdth from her own.
“Funny,” Ambrosia drawled drily, not quite turning her head but nevertheless observing him with the intensity of a shark. “Life has taught me that is the quickest way to get burnt.”
Ambrosia's got 99 problems but this hot af set from MJ ain't 1 of them
"Do you imagine I don't have options?" Ambrosia smirked as she turned to lean against the railings, getting a better look at him and showing off her figure in the process. "I'm very difficult to say no to."
Ambrosia's got 99 problems but this hot af set from MJ ain't 1 of them
"If I implied otherwise," Fitz reassured her, "then it is only because I am too distracted to pay much care to my words."
As he spoke, his hand found its way closer and closer to her waist, until the barest movement of his thumb would have seen him caressing the fabric of her gown.
If she was going to stop this then it really ought to be now, Ambrosia mused as she made no attempt to move away. His hands were edging closer and if she tilted her chin up just so then there would barely be a breath between their lips.
"Words are not everything," she replied as she moved incrementally along the railing until she felt the side of his hand just ghost against her dress.
She would stop this soon, Ambrosia told herself, though her usual sense was rather drowned out by other instincts that were insisting on being paid attention to.
"I bet you have," Ambrosia purred by way of response, pulse picking up pace as she wondered when she had last felt such an uncomplicated stab of desire. Perhaps her honeymoon? Before the reality of Trystan and his secrets had become apparent. She tilted her face lazily up towards his, letting the ghost of her lips just brush against the corner of his mouth as he hand came to rest flat against his solid chest.
"But actions have far too many consequences," she said with a sigh, pushing him firmly back. "Regretfully I am all too aware of them."
Ambrosia's got 99 problems but this hot af set from MJ ain't 1 of them
March 28, 2021 – 5:47 PM
Last modified: April 29, 2021 – 11:00 PM by Fitzroy Prewett.
Fitz let out a small groan of protest as she pushed him away, but he did not pursue her. Ambrosia Selwyn was a married woman; she had her status to consider, even if he did not particularly care for the conclusion she had drawn.
"And the consequences of inaction?" he asked with a lop-sided smile. "Surely they can be just as taxing—or not taxing enough, as the case may be."
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