Rolanda brings a pot of a tea over, pouring herself and Poppy a cup, the steaming liquid fragrant in her cozy quarters.
“Would you like some milk with your tea, Poppy?”
“No, thank you. I wouldn’t mind a drop of chartreuse though.”
“Naughty woman,” Rolanda replies with a wink, grabbing the bottle and adding a generous splash to Poppy’s cup.
“So, let me see what you’ve been working on,” Poppy asks, eyes flashing mischievously.
Rolanda hands over a few pages, watching Poppy’s animated expressions as she avidly reads the short story in front of her.
“I haven’t quite figured out the ending yet.” Rolanda laments, taking a sip of tea. “It’s always so difficult for me to find the right words to finish it off.”
“Perhaps a confession of love? Though I can’t imagine Malfoy being very emotional.” Poppy sets the papers down on the table and leans back in her chair. “I will say, though, that was very enticing indeed. Sex on the Quidditch field was an ingenious idea.”
“I can’t take all the credit for it. I never would have even started this story if it weren’t for all those heated glances those two boys are always exchanging. I can only imagine what they got up to after that match last week, the only two players left on the field as everyone made their way back to the castle.”
“Oh, yes,” Poppy exclaims excitedly. “I nearly forgot to tell you! A few days ago, after that nasty fall off his broom, I had Harry stay the night in the infirmary. I very clearly told him no guests were allowed after hours and yet come evening I heard voices coming from his bed. Malfoy was there, sitting by his bedside, the two of them chatting in hushed whispers.”
“Oh, very good Poppy,” Rolanda replies with a grin. “I must confess when I started writing this I wasn’t sure there was much merit to it but now—”
“Yes,” Poppy cuts in, face flushed with excitement. “And I was thinking you could maybe have them getting frisky in the infirmary.”
“That could work.” Rolanda brow furrows as she thinks. “Perhaps a quick frotting, or do you think they could get away with a blow job?”
“Oh, Rolanda!” Poppy laughs gleefully. “If they were quiet enough they could get away with nearly anything.”
“Come on,” Rolanda sets her teacup down and rises. “Let’s go down to the Quidditch pitch together. Slytherin is finishing their practice and I bet we can find some fresh inspiration there.”
“Oh, yes,” Poppy agrees, following Rolanda out the door.
“Now Poppy,” Rolanda begins, linking her arm with Poppy as they make their way out of the castle, “Did I ever tell you about the Oliver Wood, Charlie Weasley story I started a few years ago…”