HP: Panem et Circenses

November 20th, 1995

Dark, gloomy clouds drifted across the ceiling of the Great Hall; dishes and cutlery clanked beneath the distant rumble of thunder. Next to him, Valeria peered over her arms at the Ravenclaw table with a longing expression.

"Working on your pout again, sister dear?"

"No, sometimes I just wish I could have the best of both worlds," she cast a quick glance at the ceiling and sighed. "A Hogwarts education but at a location as warm and sunny as Beauxbatons."

Tristan's eyes roamed over French students chatting in their native tongue. Fleur Delacour sat slightly offside as usual, scribbling down notes in a small leather-bound booklet while dipping her croissants in a cup of hot chocolate and taking small bites.

'At least she's not having cake for breakfast this time...'

"The skirts might just be a clever decoy and Beauxbatons is actually up in Normandy instead of around Marseille as everyone assumes." Delacour's pink tongue flicked over full red lips to catch small crumbs of the croissant. "The weather won't be that much better right across the channel."

"A decoy, really?" Valeria snorted. "What's next? Durmstrang isn't actually in the far north of Scandinavia or Siberia but instead right by the Black Sea?"

"Perhaps," Tristan laughed, tearing his eye away from her. "I don't see why the weather matters that much to you anyway. You don't even tan, Valeria, it's impossible with Mother's fair skin. You just burn like a vampire the moment you step into the sun unprotected."

"I do not!" She huffed. "My tan lines were more prudent than ever this summer. You just didn't notice because you turned into a total basement dweller."

He blinked. "You do know that my room is on the second floor, don't you?"

"Doesn't matter, the term still applies."

"Fair enough." Tristan shrugged. "I just had lots to think about this summer."

'Like how I took a life...'

A brown flock of owls swirled into the Great Hall from the large windows up by the staff table.

"Post is finally here!" Valeria chirped.

He rolled his eyes. "Oh, joy. Can't wait for another day of ridicule."

Valeria bit her bottom lip. "Well, you did drop quite the bomb on Wizarding Britain with what you've revealed a week ago." She pointed at a flock of white within the feather-flapping chaos above the tables. "Look, there's Hedwig!"

Hope blossomed within Tristan's chest and he swallowed thickly as he followed her descent.

'With news from Galahad, hopefully.'

Valeria snatched the small envelope from Hedwig's foot the moment she landed on her plate, ignoring her indignant hoot.

"What do they write?" Tristan's stomach clenched tight as he watched her eyes zip over the parchment, her fingers trembling slightly. "Spill."

His sister didn't reveal anything at first, but then her lips slowly tucked into a small smile. "Galahad is almost fully healed and managed to sneak out of his room to fly over the lake twice already. Dorea threatened to restrain him to the bed for another week just for that."

"Thank Merlin, he's fine," Tristan sighed in relief. He accepted the letter and quickly read his father's words himself.

"With Grandma Dorea watching over him, he was bound to make a quick recovery." Valeria fed a piece of bacon to Hedwig and stroked her feathers until the snow owl's scornful eyes shifted and she gently nibbled on her fingers. "She can fix anything."

'Not everything I bet.' A bit of guilt chewed at him at the thought of Dorea. Her pleas echoed in his mind. Purple runes burst before his mind's eye in a shower of sparks. 'Some magic is irreversible. Like whatever I've allowed it to do to my body at the price of staying alive.'

"Oh no... not again..."

His sister's mutter made him glance up. The clatter of cutlery had died. A low murmur rose from the benches around him.

Pinched lips and deep frowns met him from the students on all four tables. They conversed with their neighbors in hushed whispers, each group bending over a piece of newspaper.

"Well, let's see what she has to write about me now." Tristan unfolded the edition of the Daily Prophet that had been dropped in front of them. "I'm actually surprised she hasn't run out of content yet."

His former self flashed the camera a bright sharp smile with his silhouette almost taking up the entire frame of the shot. Only a few strays of Fleur Delacour's silver hair cascaded from the left corner and the stubbled jaw of Victor Krum had been cut off to the right.

WHO IS TRISTAN PEVERELL?

THE YOUNGEST CHAMPION - THE CAULDRON THREATENING TO EXPLODE

A low chuckle slipped from his lips. "Say what you want about her, but Skeeter does have a way with headlines."

"Urgh, this is just getting ridiculous now!" Valeria huffed, pointing at the second of five long, wordy paragraphs. "Look what dragon dung she's spewing now."

'I suppose I should check what the enemy thinks.'

Tristan began reading out loud.

"Magical Britain is still shocked and sickened by what has been revealed during the Weighing of the Wands ceremony last week: The wand Mr. Peverell has been using up until now is none other than that of Tom Riddle, more commonly known as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, the most notorious Dark Lord since Gellert Grindelwald. And yet, to my astonishment, all five of the judges refused to comment on why they allowed Mr. Peverell to compete with the very weapon that has murdered more British witches and wizards than any other in recent history. Knowledge of wands is rare and well-guarded, especially when even Garrick Ollivander, Britain's most famous wand maker, refused to give his insights on the matter at hand. Still, the following was discovered:

"Using a wand like that will have certainly left an impact on a young wizard still in development," says an expert on wand lore, who preferred to remain anonymous for fear of possible retribution against his family. "That wand has performed the most gruesome of all acts, including rape, torture, and murder for many decades. After having cast magic with such malicious intent so often, I do not doubt that it might be rubbing off on its new wielder, slowly corrupting him with every spell or charm he casts," - at this point, our source insisted on some reassurance that he will remain anonymous before saying- "None of us should sit around idle about this. The Triwizard Tournament's judges must intervene now and stop things from spiraling out of control. Not just for Tristan Peverell's sake, but for each of ours as well."

"Okay then... I admit this article might actually be a bit more worrisome than the others." Tristan flicked the page back and forth, skimming over the rest of the article. "Although this anonymous source Skeeter just randomly pulled out of her arse should raise at least some suspicion about its accuracy."

"I somehow doubt it, they're all eating it up. Just look at them!" Valeria glared rather impressively at the many frowns they received from all around the Great Hall. "And why shouldn't they? Wands sometimes develop a mind for themselves; it is commonly known. I don't think a single customer has left Ollivander's store without hearing him say 'The wand chooses the wizard'."

"He's not wrong about it." Tristan shrugged, letting the pale wood slide out of his sleeve to spin it on the tabletop. "Mine quite literally did choose me..."

The wand came to a stillstand with its tip pointing straight at Delacour.

"Okay, fine." Valeria acknowledges. "But they're still not nearly as sentient as this anonymous expert makes them out to be."

"Well, there is some truth to it." Tristan grimaced, giving his wand another forceful spin.

Valeria frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Father argued with Gregorovitch for almost an hour before he allowed me to use it," Tristan recalled, watching his wand point up to the staff table this time around. "Apparently he happened to have witnessed an instance where a wand did indeed absorb some magic..."

Valeria paled, her eyes dipping low to his wand. "Does that mean-,"

"-no, Gregorovitch didn't outright deny it, but he clarified it might only be possible when wands with twin cores face off against each other, which is incredibly rare in itself." Tristan hummed, running a finger down the length of the pale wood. "As far as I understood him, it doesn't even absorb the wielder's magic, it only recognizes the magic of the twin's owner should they ever face off again. Although what exactly happens at that point is all speculation and hasn't really been studied yet."

"Good." Valeria gained back a bit of color, though her expression remained tight. "It's - it's just that with how complicated wand lore sounds, it doesn't look good for those allegations against you..."

"Instead of gossiping, they should remember how I got this wand in the first place," Tristan snorted. "The only reason it chose me as a chubby, little toddler was because Father killed its previous owner. Without that, none of them could've even crawled back out of whatever holes they had been hiding inside to now whisper behind my back."

'But they don't see it that way.' He let his gaze swap over the Great Hall once more, meeting scornful expressions by the dozen. 'They never do.'

"Do you think the judges will go back on their call?" Valeria gnawed on her bottom lip. "Will they try to confiscate your wand?"

Tristan curled his fingers tight around the pale handle until his knuckles whitened. "I'd actually like to see them try."

'I won't ever defend myself with schoolyard hexes and silly charms again.' He studied the tiny dwell of worry in Valeria's green eyes. 'That almost got me killed last time...'

"How are you feeling about the first task then?" Valeria piqued. "Still no idea what it might be about?"

"None whatsoever." Tristan stifled a tiny flat of apprehension. "They organized this whole tournament in secret and apparently it didn't stop there."

"Have you checked the grounds?" She suggested. "If they allow spectators then surely they'll have to build some sort of... stand for all of us?" She edged a bit closer and lowered her voice to whisper. "Maybe you could use the Cloak and the Map to-,"

"-nope, I can't." Tristan clenched his jaw tight. "Not anymore..."

"What do you mean?" Her frown deepened by the second. "What happened, Tristan?"

"I- I had the Map in my pockets when I fought Malfoy and his lot the other night." He grimaced, weighing his words carefully. "It was damaged quite badly and doesn't work anymore."

"But surely you can fix it?" She stared at him intently. "You're bloody brilliant in charms and arithmancy. I've seen your work on your own spells since you were my age!"

'Apparently still not as brilliant as Father was because the Map is unlike anything I've seen before.'

"I haven't been able to fix it yet. But I will be. Soon."

"You're just too stubborn and prideful to ask Father for help, aren't you?" Valeria huffed. "At least tell me you have... some sort of plan for the first task?"

"Of course I do. Where do you reckon I've been over the last few months?"

"In broom cupboards with Adelaide?"

Tristan rolled his eyes "I haven't even met her since Halloween, not that it's any of your business what we get up to." He ran a hand through his hair. "Anyways... I've been practicing plenty of magic so don't worry about me too much, baby sister. I'll be just fine."

"Practicing magic?" She echoed incredulously. "Are you sure that'll be enough, Tristan?"

"I'm not just sure, I know it'll be." He nodded. "If I've been unable to figure out what the first task is about, then I doubt Delacour or Krum were successful. We're all on an even playing field. It hardly matters what exactly the task is about for as long as I'm better at it than my competitors."

"They're both almost two years older than you. Neither of them can be complete slouches if they were selected as Champions for their schools." Valeria huffed. "Just look at Viktor Krum, he is-,"

"-an admittedly talented Quidditch player, Valeria. I know. I've seen him play." He shot her a flat look. "Sure, he looks very impressive spinning around on his broom, but a Wronski Feint won't win him the Triwizard Cup."

"You still shouldn't underestimate them." She chewed on her bottom lip again. "There's also Delacour," her gaze flickered over to the Ravenclaw table, eyes narrowing slightly. "And she is... well-,"

"What about her?" Tristan asked, curling an eyebrow.

'She hasn't attended any classes here. I don't actually know much about her aside from her tendency to play little mind games with me.'

"Well?" He glanced back to Valeria expectantly.

"The other Beauxbatons don't like her very much-,"

He snorted. "You don't say?"

"-but of course, I've dug around a bit deeper."

"And... you found something?"

Valeria leaned in and whispered. "She's supposed to be bloody brilliant, Tristan. She won a bunch of dueling tournaments in France when she was younger, and some academic competitions as well. Apparently, there's not a single record at Beauxbatons that she hasn't broken yet."

'So I was right about her.' Tristan stifled a small smile. 'She definitely has something to prove to the world as well.'

He glanced over to Delacour and watched her take tiny sips from her cup of hot chocolate, red lips curled into a satisfied smirk.

'What is that you want to show them? That you're more than just a pretty face?'

"And of course, there is the fact that she's veela as well." Valeria muttered, interrupting his musings.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure all of Hogwarts has noticed that already." Tristan chuckled. "Still unless she tries to charm the judges with her looks I don't see how it will help her much."

"Only a wizard would say something as stupid as that." Valeria huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "There's more to veela than pretty faces and curvy figures, Tristan."

"Really? Or is that perhaps a hint of... jealousy Ihear in there?" Tristan quipped with a grin. "Don't worry, sister, perhaps in a few years you'll-,"

"-and there's far more to their magic than just the allure." she flicked him hard against the head with a low growl.

"Ow." He rubbed his head. "Okay, I'm sorry, please enlighten me."

"They have a natural affinity for fire as we've seen during the world cup and despite how little we know about them, it is also theorized that veela are much more in tune with not only their own but any magic around them," Valeria explained. "Think of the advantage she might have over you when facing the unexpected..."

Tristan scoffed."Father is able to feel pretty much every piece of magic cast around him, and he's the most skilled wizard we know of." He threw another careful glance at Delacour across the hall. "And you really think some seventeen-year-old girl, veela or not, will hold up to that?"

"I'm saying we can't be sure." Valeria expressed more firmly. "I have no doubt that you'll beat any of them in a direct confrontation, but the tasks aren't just simple one-on-one duels. Viktor Krum is a better flyer than you. Perhaps it won't help him in each task, but at least you know one of his strengths. Now, can you honestly say the same about Fleur Delacour?

Tristan's mood grew solemn. Worry gnarled at his insides and twisted them tight. 'No, I really can't.'

'And perhaps my sister is right, I shouldn't take any risks. That's how I almost got myself killed last time.'

He glanced back up, meeting Delacour's summer sky-blue eyes head-on. Something playful began to dance in their depths and the corner of her lip tucked up in a small smirk.

'She started her research on me the moment she arrived. Who knows how much more she's learned by now...And what do I have in return?'

"Fine." Tristan snatched his wand back up from the table and rose to his feet. "I'll follow your advice just so you can't say 'I told you so' in the end, baby sister."

"Where are you going?" Valeria frowned.

"Somewhere I will shamelessly abuse my recently gained privilege as Hogwarts champion."

He joined the torrent of students pouring out of the Great Hall toward the giant staircase. Tapestries and hangings swayed on the walls in the wake of his passing. Snoozing portraits cracked open their eyes to frown and scowl the moment he was recognized.

'Still holding a grudge I see,' he chuckled faintly, turning into the corridor that led to the library. 'I wonder if one can memory charm a portrait?'

Madam Pince watched him like a hawk as Tristan swiftly passed her desk by the entrance and strolled to the back. He stalked the tall shelves, running his index finger along the spines of the books one by one.

"Magical creatures. Magical creatures..."

"Let's see then... obscurials... thestrals... vampires...and aha!" He paused. "Veela..."

Tristan snatched the very first book from the humble collection and flipped through the introductory pages.

"It's pretty much as Mother had explained at the world cup. They originated from ancient Mesopotamia some three thousand years ago before migrating to eastern European countries." He flicked a few more pages. "The allure of a veela is a highly complicated and still an unreplicated piece of magic. It shows distinct parallels to compulsion charms and more abstract magic, like that regularly found in the Mind Arts."

'The Mind Arts? Can she connect our thoughts and leave faint impressions like a legilimens?' A chilly prickle ran down Tristan's spine. 'What if she can even catch glimpses of our thoughts and feelings herself?'

"The effect of the allure is often described as somewhat similar to a deep trance or, in extreme cases, even being held under the Imperius curse. It leaves the victim with the overwhelming desire to perform impressionable feats and thereby win the veela's favor. Little is known about defense against such influences yet."

Tristan snorted. 'I doubt that's actually the case. Mother's suggestion is likely true and those practicing Occlumency are able to resist the allure to some degree.' He closed the book shut and placed it back on the shelves, taking out the next one. 'But they can hardly leave a book talking about the Mind Arts out here in a library accessible by first-years, can they?'

He continued reading. 'Now, let's see if I find something about that fire affinity Valeria mentioned.'

The tiniest flicker of air, in the very far corner of his eye, suddenly caused him to pause. It had been but a split second, barely visible underneath the light of the chandelier, like haze above the street on a hot summer day.

'What was that?'

Tristan kept his face angled towards the book in his hand, eyes squinting down the row of shelves.

'If I didn't know any better I'd say that was a disillusionment charm. A near-perfect one...'

He slowly closed the book and checked the shelves one last time. Humming a little tune, he strolled around the corner.

Once out of sight, Tristan dragged the smooth, cool fabric of the invisibility Cloak over his shoulders in one fluent motion and lifted the hood.

He crept back around the aisle to the other side. The pale length of his wand slid into his palm from where it poked out from underneath the Cloak.

'Homonum Revelio!'

A human silhouette flickered in faint red at the end of the aisle, right by the spot where the books on veela were positioned. The very book he had just placed back on the shelf was picked up by an invisible force and flipped open.

'Gotcha!'

Tristan tucked the Cloak back into his pockets and disillusioned himself. He tiptoed closer step by step and slowly reached out with his wand until he met resistance.

"Now that's a very good disillusionment charm..."

A small gasp tore through the silence and the book dropped to the wooden floorboard with a low thud.

Tristan applied gentle pressure with his wand. "I suggest you drop that charm unless you want to find out how good my stunner is."

The air before his eyes shimmered and swirled into a silvery, blue blur of colors. Fleur Delacour faded into view like smoke on a breeze, holding each pale, delicate hand high to either side of her.

His heart began pounding against his chest. She was close. Close enough for her sweet vanilla perfume to fill his nostrils and fuddle his senses to the degree his own disillusionment charm slipped from his grasp.

Her warm breath washed over his neck and left him shivering slightly. "You've caught me."

She slowly took a step back and glanced down to where his wand had poked her. Full, red lips tugged into a small smirk and glee danced in her eyes. "Will you at least tell me how?"

"You're not as perfect as I would've expected." Tristan took a calming breath, cursing the heat that traces through his veins and left his blood boiling. "What happened? Did you stub your toe on the shelf?"

A pearl of soft laughter burst through the aisle, causing his heart to lurch strangely and his stomach to flutter. "I had to suppress a sneeze actually, quite a bad one."

"Ah." He felt a grin tug on his lips and grudgingly gave in. "Well, that just leaves us with the question of what I should do with you, now that I've caught you."

Her smirk widened. "What would you like to do with me, Tristan Peverell?"

"Preferably get a restraining order that forces you to stay far away from me." He kept his guard up and his wand high. "Who knows what other places you've stalked me to already?"

She reached out with a pale finger towards his jaw. "It wouldn't have been so bad, would it?" Her eyes began sparkling like stars in the night sky. "I'm sure you have... nothing to be ashamed of."

"Naha." Tristan pried her finger off with his wand. "Keep them to yourself or I'll add sexual harassment to that restraining order. Tell me why you've been following me."

Her lips formed into a delicate pout that would even put Valeria's to shame.

"I will tell you-," she slowly bent over, holding his eye while she picked up the book she had dropped, "-if you tell me why you've been looking at these..."

Tristan tore his eye away from where her blue uniform had slipped down the pale curve of her breast and revealed the edge of something lacy black.

"I don't think you're in the position to make any demands, Mademoiselle. One word from me and you'll have Madam Pince to explain yourself to. Rumor has it she's set her eyes on our caretaker already, so good luck trying to... charm her."

Delacour's eyes narrowed a fraction and darkened a hue.

"Something you should know about veela, is that we don't have to rely on our allure." She flipped a few pages in the book she had picked up before turning it around to him with a wide grin. "See?"

The detailed, nude drawing of a woman spread over the page. Fair-skinned, silver-haired, her body without a single imperfection.

"See?" Delacour's slim finger trailed down the page, over the curve of the woman's breasts and lower still.

His wand arm dropped low. A sweet little thrill raced through his veins, causing his breath to start hitching.

"What do you think, Tristan?"

Tristan swallowed hard and tore his eye away from the page. "I think a book like that is much better off in the Restriction Section. I should give Madam Pince a head's up and earn some brownie points with her."

Delacour's lips tugged from a smirk into a grin. "I thought you were braver, Tristan. Any other man would've asked if I looked like that with my uniform off as well."

"I don't think you would actually." He ran his eyes up and down her front, forcing the hot thrill back down with deep, even breaths. "I'm pretty sure you're taller than the... model they have used here."

She snatched the book close, placed it back on the shelf, and took a step closer.

"Are you sure you don't want to know?" Her summer-sky blue eyes danced with silent laughter. "You could be the first man to ever find out..."

"Yeah, I very much doubt that." Tristan brought his wand back up. "Nuhu, stop right there, please."

Her eyes followed to where his wand tip pointed straight at her décolleté, only inches away from bare skin. She glanced up, curling one slim, perfect eyebrow.

"Oh, come on," he cursed under his breath and raised his wand higher to her neck. "You still haven't told me why you've been following me."

"Isn't it obvious?"

Tristan frowned. "I mean, yeah, I guess. But I still want to hear it from you."

"You simply piqued my curiosity." She shrugged, tugging a silver lock around her little finger. "Boys my age who are able to ignore my magic, even to an extent, are very rare to come by. Now I'm competing against one in a deadly tournament."

"So you decide to stalk me around the Castle?" Tristan held her eye, searching for the truth. "No..." He slowly shook his head. "You followed me because you thought I might know something about the first task. You watched me during breakfast and when I darted off after receiving a letter you thought someone must've tipped me off. What a sneaky little veela you are..."

'But at least it means she likely hasn't figured it out either.'

A delighted smirk spread across her face. "I thought we established that I was quite tall, non?"

"Just not quite tall enough to avoid the dust of an old British library to tickle your nose and reveal yourself to me," he chuckled. "Now then, why don't we-,"

"Tristan, is that you?"

He whirled around.

Auburn curls poked out from behind the shelf at the end of the row. Its owner's face lit up in a beam and she skipped around with a bounce in her step.

"I haven't seen you in forever. I thought I heard a familiar voice so I came to check but who is it you are-," her smile wavered as she glanced past his shoulder. "Oh..."

"Hi, Adelaide," he cleared his throat and stepped aside to reveal Delacour. "Free period?"

"Yes... yes indeed." She eyed both of them warily, her eyes running over their lips and clothes, seemingly checking for something. "Though apparently it's spent on a bloody project on dementors for DADA." She glimpsed past him, face twitching when she caught sight of Delacour's low neckline. "So… you are-,"

"Fleur Delacour." Delacour strode past him so close, her arm brushed his side and her silver hair swept over his shoulder. "Are you a friend of Tristan's?" She glanced in between them with a small, curious smile. "Or perhaps his girlfriend?"

"A... good friend," Tristan said quickly, taking Adelaide into a quick hug.

"Well... yeah-," she pressed herself more firmly against him and cupped his jaw to plant a kiss on his lips. "And maybe a little... more than that." She turned back to Delacour and smiled entirely too cheerfully.

'This is not going to end well...'

Delacour's eyebrows rose a fraction and her lips curled. "I see."

"I hope I wasn't interrupting you guys, but I'm so glad I've found you up here, Tristan." Adelaide clung tight to his side, finger curled into his robes. "I've been really trying to catch you for a few days now."

'Oh, fuck it.' Tristan pulled her closer by the waist. 'Perhaps this will show Delacour that she doesn't have as much control over me as she'd like.'

"Have you now?" He smiled down and captured her lips in a quick kiss. "Why is that?"

"Well... you see-," she rose to her tiptoes to whisper in his ear. "I really wanted to-,"

Delacour audibly cleared her throat and a pearl of soft laughter spilled from her lips. "I'll leave you two to it then." She turned toward the shelf, "Just don't forget your book on veela, Tristan. It was this one right-,"

In an entirely too clumsy move, she knocked the book from its position on the shelf with her elbow. It landed on the floor with a low thud. A familiar, very detailed drawing starred up from an otherwise blank page.

'Well played, petite Fleur. Well played.'

Next to him, Adelaide let out a small gasp, fingers curling tighter into his robes.

"Oops, how silly of me." A faint pink blush crept up Delacour's cheek and she bent low at a deliberately slow pace to pick the book back up.

"There. Just don't forget it." She placed it somewhat awkwardly on the shelf before adjusting the top of her uniform, flashing them another glimpse of black lace. "And of course, you can always come to me if you have any more... questions lingering on your mind and robbing you of your sleep."

Adelaide's hand began trembling slightly.

"Thanks." Tristan cringed. "I'm sure I'll be fine though."

"Well, anytime." Delacour shot him a coy smile and the tiniest wink. "Until next time then, Tristan." She slowly strolled past him, her sweet vanilla perfume invading his nostril once again. "Pleasure to have met you, Adelaide."

Her light footsteps faded away.

'Apparently, she's far from done playing her little mind games with me.' Tristan sighed, dragging away the images of the pale curve of her cleavage that still swirled through his mind and kept his heart pounding frantically. 'I just wish she wasn't so fucking good at them.'

Adelaide remained silent for almost an entire minute, gnawing her bottom lip. Then she yanked him out of the library by his hand. "Let's go."

"Wait, where are we going?" Tristan staggered after her, past Madam Prince's desk, who glared at them suspiciously. "Don't you have to get back to class soon?"

"There's something I need to do before that." She shoved him into the next best broom cupboard and locked the door with a flick of her wand.

"Adelaide, you really shouldn't let Delacour-,"

"Shh!" She pressed herself against him and silenced him with a kiss, slipping her tongue into his mouth while she stripped off the first layer of his clothing. "No talking about her now."

Her swift fingers swirled through her hair and tied long auburn curls up together on top of her head.

"I want you to take my mind off things-," she dragged him into another heated kiss, gently biting into his lower lip. "But first, I'll make sure there are no more... distractions on your mind."

She trailed a line of kisses from his lips to his jaw and down his neck. Then she sank to her knees and cupped him firmly through his trousers before tugging them open.

"All you're going to think about is me," she whispered as her warm fingers teased him up and down until heat swirled south and his breath quickened.

The pink tip of her tongue slowly swirled from his base to the tip and she stared up at him with a sultry look from underneath long lashes. Then she lowered her mouth and slick warmth engulfed him fully.

Tristan threw his head back with a low hiss and closed his eyes.

And yet, as she began taking him deeper, forcing her lips down to the base of his shaft over and over with soft, wet noises, his mind began playing strange tricks on him.

For how else could Adelaide's pink lips turn red as roses and curve into a faint smirk before his mind's inner eye? How else could her light green orbs turn as blue as the summer sky?