The Grind (And Helping Heather Potter) [Book 2]

[AN: This will be the last chapter of this story for now. I got pretty burned out while writing it and couldn't bring myself to continue. I still have more planned/plotted out but I didn't want to force it and have the quality suffer as a result.

[I recently put up a poll on my Patreon for my patrons to choose what I worked on next. 'A Gacha System's Fae Gamble' won that, so I've been focusing on that story since the start of October. But the poll also marks the start of me doing things a little differently. It's in its trial stages right now, but I'll be taking my story focus on a month-by-month basis. I'll be putting up polls at the end of each month, and the results will help decide what story I focus on. No idea if this method will pan out for me personally, but I'm hoping it'll stop me from hyper-fixating on a single story to the point of burnout. It also allows me to introduce new story ideas on a relatively frequent basis, and if a story is popular and I'm feeling it, it can be elected to roll over into the next month. October's focus is already decided, but if you want to vote for next month's story (along with getting the usual early access to chapters), you can join my Patreon (patreon.com/dryskies_btb). I'm always happy to see the support :]

IIIII

The royal visit to Winterfell was as stressful as it was worthwhile. Margaery could only be glad that it was now over. While productive, there was only so much Grandmother and Margaery could do on their own. So they watched and listened, they deepened ties with Hogwarts and the North through the Starks, and they made their rising star clear for those who cared to see.

The most pressing of 'those who cared' was undoubtedly the Queen. Grandmother scorned the Royal Lioness, and having now met her, Margaery could only agree with her assessment. But there was no denying that Cersei Lannister had power. Or at least… that she did have power…

Now, the fool Queen had gone and doomed herself. Margaery would never claim to know her royal mind, but by the Mother, her actions against the King were reckless in the extreme. She paid for them in full. Without her tongue, much, if not all, of the Queen's power was curbed. Set aside as she was going to be. She'd fallen so far out of favor that she might as well have been exiled to Essos. No, even then, she would still have supporters and the ability to gather more. Here and now, the Queen was a clawless, toothless, and tongueless lioness. Not even her family could hope to openly continue their support of her.

Of course, Margaery was hesitant to dismiss her completely. Grandmother praised her for the caution, something that still made Margaery preen when she remembered it. Cersei Lannister was a creature who functioned on spite more than almost anything else, Grandmother said. If they left themselves open, they might very well pay the price. How that dagger in the back would come, though, Margaery hadn't the foggiest idea…

Still, more than anything else, the royal visit had been extremely informative. They'd witnessed the Queen's dramatic fall from grace. They'd heard the betrothal between Stark and Baratheon — Heir and Princess — firsthand. And Margaery had gotten the chance to assess the rest of the royal family for herself. The impressions she got from them were… mixed.

The King was nothing like the stories she'd been hearing for most of her life. But then, they'd been expecting as much. Anyone with eyes and ears could've seen the King's change coming over the past year. The only new information there was just how quickly it had come to pass. The Demon of the Trident had returned, and his hidden enemies would do well to be cautious going forward.

For the princess, Margaery found herself rather happy to have met the girl. She was kind, yet hid a surprisingly sharp mind behind that kindness. It was simply a shame that she wouldn't be returning south to King's Landing. Margaery could've seen herself working quite effectively with the Lioness Cub in another life.

The younger prince Tommen was rather agreeable as well. But truthfully, he was too young to tell anything for certain. She could easily see him growing into a worthwhile ally, though, especially if he could be distanced from his Lannister kin.

In the end, it was the Crown Prince who Margaery found the most worrying. He was simply… hollow. Oh, he put on a good mask of the perfect prince. But there was simply nothing behind it. No weight or substance. He was almost the complete opposite of his Kingly father. To the point that — seeing them next to each other — Margaery couldn't help but wonder…

All of the information she observed and gathered was dutifully cataloged away in Margaery's mind. It would undoubtedly be useful in the coming days, for her time in the North was unfortunately at an end. The agreed-upon timeframe for her courtship of Atlas and Hogwarts was up — without a concrete conclusion, to Margaery's endless frustration. Before she knew it, they were traveling back to Highgarden. Thankfully, traveling with Wizards was no true chore…

"Oh, home~…" Margaery waxed poetic. "Fair Highgarden, how you call to me~… Your glorious walls of gleaming stone. Your verdant and fruitful lands. You, fairest of all the Reach, your ever-living spirit beckons me so~. Your favored daughter has been gone for far too long. Will you even recognize her when she returns to you? I come home with tales of greatness and growth and none to tell them but mine own lips. Fair Highgarden, will you listen~?"

She sighed, longing and indulgence practically weighing on her soul. The very walls she called to loomed in her view. So close, oh so close at hand. Great towers of wonderful white-washed stone and blue roofs like the sparkling Sunset Sea. Banners flew from every peak and spire: gold on green, with intricate roses to declare greatness unmatched anywhere else in the Reach. It was home. Home and family and the history that ran through her veins.

A slightly sardonic but ultimately good-natured clapping answered Margaery's poetics. Sitting side-saddle on the broom steed — though she couldn't fly it on her own — Margaery only had to turn her head to see the culprit behind her. He seemed to shine and thrive in the beauty of her homeland. His sleeves were rolled up with the warmth, and Maiden, Margaery could just about drool on those forearms. His hair danced in the breeze, wayward strands fluttering in the breeze. Those captivating pseudo-Valyrian eyes gave her all of his attention.

Atlas treated her to an all-too-attractive and all-too-amused smirk, "Bravo, I say! Bravo! There are simply no other words, good lady!"

Margaery blushed, "Oh, Maiden… Did I really sound like one?"

"What?" Atlas blinked in confusion.

"A Braavosi bravo," Margaery clarified, her cheeks still warm. "Did I really sound like one? I know they have a reputation for flamboyance and flowery flourishes, but surely, I wasn't that bad, was I…?"

"Oh, uh…" Atlas looked utterly, adorably bemused in Margaery's eyes. "Uh, no, that's not what I was referring to. It's a form of praise back home. An expression of approval or a shout of enjoyment, if you will. I suppose some things still don't translate well."

He finished with an 'uncaring' shrug, but Margaery couldn't stop her heart from aching for him. Him and the rest of Hogwarts. Oh, it was a terrible feeling. Here she was, returning home when Hogwarts couldn't do the same. Atlas acted unaffected, but Margaery knew. She knew he must've been hurting inside. Her heart went out to him. To all of them, truly… but Atlas was hurting right in front of her.

"Do you miss it?" She asked softly, trying to coax the hurt from his soul.

Atlas — bless him — stayed strong, simply shrugging again, "Not particularly. I know that sounds bad, but everything I truly care about came along with us. I'm not wholly unfeeling on the subject, but there's a certain… detachment? Yes, that's about right. It's more a logical yearning than an emotional one. Many of the others aren't so lucky."

"Oh, I can't even imagine…" Margaery muttered mournfully.

"It… It was hard that first year…" Atlas said, his tone somber. "Families and homes had been torn apart. Some of the younger students regularly woke up thinking it was all a terrible nightmare. And even for the adults, you could see the wear and tear."

"However did you overcome it?" Margaery asked.

Atlas smiled a queer smile at that question, not happy in the slightest but proud anyway, "We came together. We'd lost so much, but we had each other. All of us were in the same boat, cast onto strange seas to arrive in a strange land. We rallied around Hogwarts herself. I imagine there isn't a stronger bond anywhere else in the world."

"Oh, most certainly," Margaery matched his smile. "There is no other place like Hogwarts. Trust that I speak as true as I'm able, Atlas. I'd like to consider myself an expert on the subject. As far as Westerosi go, at least."

He chuckled at her jape and continued, "Besides, it's not as if we've given up at all. Our teams will always be looking for a way back home. If we came here by magic, we can return by magic. Our best minds are working on the problem, and our motivation won't wane easily. I've been dedicating a fair portion of my time to it as well recently."

"I've hit something of a snag in my efforts, but I'm certain that I'm looking in the right direction. Not like Magic could lead me wrong anymore in any case…" Atlas continued, muttering the last under his breath.

"I see…" Margaery's smile softened, growing almost forlorn. "Then I shall miss you all terribly when you're gone, for I know in my heart that you will eventually succeed."

Atlas' good cheer returned with a teasing smirk, "Who said anything about leaving for good~?"

"You mean…?" Margaery gasped.

"Magic has done stranger things than act as a bridge between our two homes, my good lady," Atlas chuckled. "Though that will be a very, very strange day…"

Margaery's smile grew on her face and felt like it would never stop, "Then I would very much like to see your home one day, my good ser."

"I suppose you'll just have to trust I won't disappoint then," Atlas teased.

"Oh, but I do," Margaery shot back with purposefully lidded eyes. "I trust you with a great many things, don't you see~? I trust you to keep me safe, to help my House grow strong, to support whatever efforts I might undertake… Why, I would even trust you with this delicate heart of mine~! And perhaps even… something to break in place of it~?"

"I'm… not sure I follow," Atlas blinked slowly. "Why would you want me to break anything you'd trust me with?"

Margaery rolled her eyes. Maiden save her, he could be so dull at the strangest of times… "My maidenhead, Atlas. I would entrust you with my maidenhead. And in doing so, I'd damn well hope you would break it!"

Atlas simply stared at her for a few long moments. Margaery felt herself begin to fluster, her cheeks glowing a lovely red that she could practically see for herself as her own words caught up to her. She didn't regret saying them, but they'd also been rather… forward… Oh, Maiden, be kind! He was smirking now! A knowing smirk if Margaery had ever seen one. She was starting to get the sinking suspicion that he wasn't being nearly as dull as he'd led her to believe…

Then Grandmother's cackle echoed forth from the window of the wheelhouse beside them, and Margaery knew she'd been taken by a most treacherous ruse! "I do believe that's my victory, Atlas. 15 dragons! Pay up, boy!"

Margaery barely resisted gaping like a fool at both of them, "What in the world could you have possibly been betting on for that to be a victory?!"

"I figured you'd at least wait until we got to Highgarden to make your final move," Atlas answered with a grin of blatant amusement on his face. "Your grandmother disagreed. Correctly so, it seems."

"How-! How-!" Margaery sputtered, playing up her offense. "How utterly disgraceful! Betting on a lady's courtship?! Bah! You villains should be sent to the stockades!"

"And you should've stolen him away to the bedroom moons ago, Little Rose!" Grandmother shot back.

"Oh, but Olenna," Dumbledore called from within the Wheelhouse as well. "What would we have bet on then? Your granddaughter has been doing us a great service for our spectating entertainment."

"When you'll finally croak and die, old goat," Grandmother grumbled.

"Me? Croak? Die?" Margaery could practically hear the ancient Headmaster blink innocently. "Preposterous. Why would I do such a thing when there's still so much fun to be had, even for an 'old goat' like me?"

Atlas laughed, as did the others in the wheelhouse with Grandmother and Dumbledore, and Margaery knew a losing battle when she saw one. She was still half a century too early to go up against her beloved Grandmother. Highgarden's Little Rose she may have been, but Grandmother was still the Queen of Thorns. And somehow, hoping to win against Albus Dumbledore was even more futile. So, instead of struggling futilely, Margaery turned the other cheek with dignity.

They were close to Highgarden now anyway, and the embarrassment from her loss didn't weigh long on Margaery's mood. She'd chosen to ride along with Atlas outside of Grandmother's wheelhouse, wishing to revel in her return to the Reach's warmth and beauty. Not that the wheelhouse itself didn't have its own share of beauty, of course.

Grandmother had eventually convinced their Wizarding friends to give it the Hogwarts treatment. It was the only of its kind in Westeros so far, big enough on the inside to count as a moving apartment and as comfortable as any royal suite. Grandmother was rather proud of it. She'd taken to spoiling it almost as much as she spoiled Margaery.

Also joining Atlas, Dumbledore, Grandmother, and Margaery on their return to the Reach were Hermione, Luna, Nymphadora, and Heather. Hermione had become Margaery's closest companion in Hogwarts, Luna was as enigmatic as ever, 'Dora seemed to think they always needed extra protection (Constant Vigilance!), and Heather was currently flying above them through the ever-blue skies of the Reach.

That she and Grandmother were trusted enough to know of Hogwarts' brooms warmed Margaery's heart. No others were, as far as Margaery knew. As such, Heather was forced to fly under concealment — a cloak of magic that the Wizards called 'Notice-me-not'. They were rather fond of that 'spell', and it alone made them almost damningly formidable and terrifying. But then… that could be said about almost all of Hogwarts' magic.

Margaery had quickly come to learn that Hogwarts existed on a whole other level. While magic was only just beginning to return to Westeros, Hogwarts had already harnessed and mastered it beyond any preconception Margaery could've had. Additionally, every one of their students was as intelligent as any maester and even more learned, most likely. Every Witch and Wizard was a 'force multiplier', as Atlas called it. And that was without mentioning the unique advancements and experiences from their homelands that Hogwarts could bring to bear.

Researchers, scholars, spies, healers, successful revolutionaries, magical warriors trained in unseen arts of war, skilled scheming politicians in their own right, and even their own brand of criminal! Hogwarts had everything a rising faction could ask for, all with a fierce sense of loyalty toward their home. If the rest of the realm knew the full extent of Hogwarts' power, wars would be a relatively lacking outcome. Change was undoubtedly coming to Westeros — on raven's wing and lion's claw, on snake's scale and badger's paw. Yet Margaery wasn't worried by the prospect, for she, Grandmother, and the House Tyrell had gotten in on the proverbial ground floor. And oh, how it paid off…

At Hogwarts' side, House Tyrell would Grow Strong, indeed. Even just personally, Margaery found herself growing from Hogwarts' influence. In truth, she thought herself to be almost entirely made anew in that magical castle of the North. She'd left Highgarden as barely more than a girl. She was returning as a learned woman, an accomplished mage, and even half a Witch. Unfortunately, she was still a maiden though…

That last… was ultimately Margaery's fault. She had the worst feeling that it was entirely due to a lack of trying on her part. Taking actual action… was much more difficult than she'd anticipated. A curse upon her, no doubt. There was scarcely a moment when her mind was not primed and ready to dream up elaborate and exciting fantasies. It was putting those fantasies into action where Margaery found herself faltering.

Oh, the Maiden blessed her mind but not her spirit~… Her body was ready and willing, but her heart hesitated~! She could write the lewdest of smut scenes to bless the repressed masses and render bodices ripped asunder~!… But when it came to herself, to putting her fantastical fancies into practice…? Margaery simply hadn't been able to make that final move.

Until now, that is, with her home and the end of her courtship looming so close at hand. Yet… perhaps this was for the best after all… Yes, Margaery nodded to herself. Highgarden would give her courage. Finality would force her hand in the best of ways. The only issue would be working around her parents.

Father would be simple. He couldn't see Margaery as anything other than his Little Rose if he tried. Mother… might be a bit more troublesome… but Margaery was sure she could sic her brothers on the task. And there was something thrilling about the thought of sneaking around watchful eyes to do something she 'wasn't supposed to'. Eloping in her own home~… She'd almost be stealing herself away — with Atlas' aid, at least. It would be Highgarden's most daring heist, for she was, of course, something to be valued and treasured most highly. Something — someone — very much worth stealing~…

'Be calm, o' Lurid mind of mine~…' Margaery thought, barely resisting the urge to fan herself. She sighed dreamily. 'I must look like the most romantic of fools, and I most certainly don't hate as much as I likely should~'

IIIII

"Margaery! Mother!" Father greeted them with a wide smile that Margaery hadn't even realized she had missed until it was shoved in her face again. "Blessed be the Seven's graces! It is good to have you back within Highgarden's walls once more!"

While he or Mother had prepared a grand greeting for them, Father abandoned propriety and noble decorum the moment he laid eyes on them. But then, that was simply Father all over. Margaery could question many things about Father — his decision-making often most of all — but his love for their family was absolute. And gods be good, it did feel good to hug him again. Just like coming home should.

Grandmother was a touch more prickly with the very public show of affection from her son, "Mace, don't you dare! Hug me now, and you'll break every brittle bone in my blasted body! Get it all out on Margaery before you come crush me, you oaf!"

Father didn't even have the grace to appear sheepish under his mother's reprimand, simply smiling even wider, "I missed you too, Mother!"

The hug he wrapped her in was gentle as requested, and still, Grandmother found something to grumble about, "Oh, yes, I'm sure my absence was felt most dearly. It's a miracle the castle's still standing…"

Margaery giggled, knowing Grandmother didn't mean a word of it in truth. She turned to greet the rest of her family as Father reversed roles and fussed over his mother instead of the opposite. The rest of the greetings she received were more subtle yet no less heartfelt. Mother clutched her hands and kissed her cheeks with a soft smile.

"Margaery, my dear, only a year, and yet how you've Grown Strong."

"Oh, indeed, Mother," Margaery returned the greeting in kind. "More than I could possibly say with mere words."

"Welcome home, dear sister," Willas said, a seemingly constant, content smirk settled on his lips.

Margaery smiled widely, "Even though I saw it happen, it is good to see you whole and hale, brother. And rather fit too, I see. Have you been working on your strength?"

Willas chuckled, "Garlan hasn't given me and Bran a day off all year."

"Oh, yes, I can see the improvements quite clearly. You're both looking robust and strapping. Why, you must be halfway to Knighthood already!"

"Technically, I'm already a Knight, thanks to Oberyn. But now, I'd like to think I'm much closer to being worthy of the honor. Say hello to my sister, Bran. Go on, she won't bite. She finally grew out of that stage of her life when she was nine."

"Yes, I was something of a late bloomer, wasn't I?" Margaery deadpanned, her lips twitching with good humor.

"Hullo again, Lady Margaery!" Bran Stark beamed at her. "It's good to see you again!"

"It most certainly is," Margaery agreed, ruffling his hair as he came up to her. "My brothers are doing well by you as a squire, I see."

"Oh, yes!" Bran giggled. "It's like I have two Knights! And I even get to train right beside one of them!"

"Excellent," Margaery nodded, satisfied. "Now, I have letters from your family if you'd like to see them. They miss you terribly, but I'm positive that they're all very proud of you."

"Oh, wicked!" Bran exclaimed.

Margaery blinked at the familiar expression from an unfamiliar source. Willas chuckled and explained, "He picked that up from our other guests here in Highgarden."

Sure enough, off to the side, Hogwarts was having a similar reunion to House Tyrell's. The twin Weasley Lords took it over rather spectacularly, glomping everyone from Hogwarts in quick succession. Even Dumbledore. They were all smiles and grins and laughter. Margaery couldn't help but feel for them. Reunions were undoubtedly something to be treasured and enjoyed to the fullest.

"Oh, it's been too long!" One of the identical twins exclaimed, hugging, lifting, and spinning with Heather to the girl's laughter.

"Indeed, brother o' mine! I almost forgot their faces!" The other twin agreed, doing much the same as his twin with Hermione, to her audible embarrassment.

They moved on quickly, never overstaying their welcome. Luna got the 'hugging and spinning' treatment from both of them at the same time as she giggled and called out, "Weee~! Higher, higher~! Launch me to the moon with twin power~!"

'Dora, in turn, got mischievous grins that instantly set her on edge for good reason, "… Don't you dare, you two."

Laughing, they settled for merely ruffling her hair like the rowdy older brothers that they were. Despite doing her best, 'Dora couldn't dodge the affection, "Agh, prats!"

Coming to Atlas, they adopted utterly serious expressions that gave nothing away, "Atlas. Good to see you again."

Atlas looked at them strangely, but they'd shaken his hand and moved on before he could truly question them, "It's… good to see you again, too…?"

They maintained their serious affections when greeting Dumbledore. But just as the ancient Headmaster went to shake their hands, they broke the facade. Wide grins bloomed, and they wrapped the dignified old man in a double hug that was entirely inappropriate.

While Dumbledore was taken by surprise, he merely chuckled, "It's good to see you two haven't changed a bit."

"I wouldn't say that-…" One of the twins began, grinning mischievously.

"We've been taken in by honor and nobility, after all!" The other finished.

"It's no wonder we've become so chivalrous in the Heart of Chivalry!" They declared together.

"I'll believe it when I see it," Atlas deadpanned.

Ginny Weasley followed after her brothers, spreading her affection freely. But the last Weasley hung back slightly as if nervous about how he'd be received. Seeing this, his brothers came to his rescue.

"But none have taken to chivalry better than 'ickle Ronniekins here!"

"Proper Knight in training we've got here!"

"You're exaggerating…" Ron Weasley muttered.

"Oh, it's fine, Ron," Heather said, rolling her eyes. "You can greet us too. You're forgiven. Mostly, anyway."

A measure of tension seemed to seep out of him with those words. Still, he wasn't nearly as open as his brothers and sister. He held himself as a man with something to prove. To himself, most of all. For good reason too, Margaery knew. She'd heard about his former crimes from Heather and Hermione, and they'd been nearly as bad as the Queen's…

Margaery returned her focus to her family, for there was still one brother who hadn't greeted her return. Loras stood off to the side, almost separated from the rest of their family. Margaery was both surprised and not at all to see Prince Renly Baratheon with him. She and Loras had been so close as children. It did ache somewhat to see how far they'd grown apart.

"Sister," Loras nodded curtly to her.

Margaery almost sighed, just barely stifling it, "Loras… I'm happy to see I caught you while you're home rather than gallivanting off in Storm's End or King's Landing."

"As am I…" Loras allowed stiffly.

Surprisingly, it was Renly who broke their sibling stalemate, "Oh, greet your sister, Loras. I won't have myself standing in the middle of a loving family when I don't belong."

Loras relaxed slightly at that, and, bless him, he did make the effort to hug her. It was… something. Progress, perhaps? It galled her that she couldn't remember the last time she hugged her closest brother. But… such was life.

Renly was much like the last time Margaery had seen him. Tall, strong, and perfectly put together. If there was a single speck of dust on his doublet, a single hair out of place on his head, Margaery would eat her small clothes. He was a man who put great stock in his appearance. And to the untrained eye, he'd look like a splitting image of his Kingly brother, especially now that King Robert was back in the shape of his youth.

He was most certainly a handsome man. But of the Baratheon siblings, Margaery couldn't help but put King Robert slightly above him in her mind. The King simply had a certain… weight to him. Something Margaery might call 'greatness', as intangible a concept as the word was. And as far as men went, well… Margaery was rather happy with who she favored there already.

The initial reunion quickly turned into settling everyone into rooms and quarters. By the Seven, it felt good to be home. Every step through Highgarden's halls came easy and familiar to Margaery. As if she'd hardly left at all. She spent the rest of the evening showing Atlas around her room. It would become an important place for them, Margaery was sure… But not for her first time. She had another spot in mind for such a… storied occasion…

A feast was held that night to celebrate Margaery and Grandmother's return. With Father, there could be no other outcome, of course. Yet no one but Margaery and Grandmother knew just how triumphant their return was. Well, perhaps Willas did. He'd experienced the wonders they courted firsthand, after all. But for the rest of Highgarden and its guests, Hogwarts' greatness didn't ring nearly as soundly as it should've.

'Fools,' Margaery thought with an almost vindictive amusement as she took in the merrily feasting main hall of Highgarden. 'Simply fools, as far as the eye can see. Should they even be enlightened to what they could never hope to comprehend? Grandmother and I know so much more than they could dream, and soon, House Tyrell will Grow Strong so that no Florent or Oakheart or Rowan will dare question our seat as their liege lords.'

Father was in good form tonight, it seemed, for his questions came fast and almost fierce, dragging everyone into his orbit, "Margaery, my little rose! How was your stay at Castle Hogwarts? Will I have to send a most generous gift to express my thanks and gratitude?"

"It likely wouldn't be remiss, Father," Margaery tittered. "They did sponsor me for a whole year. And thanks to their hospitality, I found a second home that could almost rival Highgarden."

"Only almost, I hope!" Father laughed. "I'd not have you forget Fair Highgarden so easily!"

"Never completely," Margaery assured. "Highgarden will always be my original home."

Father was loud. Boisterous, even. 'Oafish,' as Grandmother would call him. But his good cheer was just as infectious as always. He was charismatic in a way that was impossible to fake. He'd never be the brightest man in the room (unless something went very, very wrong). Nor would he be the strongest or most noble. Those areas were not where Mace Tyrell shined, and such were his ways that he didn't have to. He was almost infuriatingly friendly and generous with his wealth and favor. Together, those qualities were deadly effective.

"Hogwarts wouldn't mind hosting her for another year," Atlas said. "Your Margaery has grown on us rather well."

Father put on an obviously fake scowl, "Don't go stealing my daughter away again so soon, good man!"

Atlas matched him with an equally fake glare, challenging, "Just try and stop me."

Father was first to drop his jest and laugh. Atlas joined him. Margaery, meanwhile, had to look away to hide the sudden dusting of color on her cheeks. Father had no clue that there was more truth to those words than even Atlas knew. And hopefully, he never would, for Margaery would just about die from embarrassment if he found out her plans…

Unfortunately, Mother wasn't nearly as oblivious as Father was. No, Alerie Tyrell nee Hightower could even be called canny if lacking the strong opinions and force of personality of her husband. She watched Margaery with curious eyes, asking, "Would you be opposed to staying another year at Hogwarts, Margaery?"

Immediately, Margaery shook her head, "Oh, Seven, no! I enjoyed every second of my time there! I made friends like Luna, Hermione, and Heather here. Even Grandmother made friends with the Headmaster and Deputy Headmistress. It's no small feat for so many people to make it past her thorns, you know."

"Hullo~!" Luna chimed, hearing her name called and immediately inserting herself into the conversation. "You have a wonderful home here~! Why, one would think the flowers are growing in the walls~!"

Mother blinked, as one tended to do when interacting with Luna, "Ah… Yes… Yes, I suppose they are. House Tyrell continues to Grow Strong, after all."

"Oh, just the strongest~!" Luna swooned. "It's for the best. Flowers are so much more agreeable than lions or falcons or vipers or stags or trouts."

"We've developed something of a soft spot for the direwolves though," Heather interjected with a smirk.

"Not the stags?" Renly drawled, seemingly relaxed, but Margaery saw the way his smile twitched.

"Ehh, Robert's a cool bloke, I suppose," Heather shrugged.

"Heather! That's the King!" Hermione chided.

"Fine," Heather rolled her eyes. "He's a bloody awesome royal, an absolute mad lad. Better?"

"I just think you should be more respectful of royalty," Hermione muttered sheepishly.

Renly blinked at Heather's strange praise, asking Loras beside him, "Is that slander? It doesn't feel like it, but I have absolutely no idea what she just said."

Loras was equally nonplussed, "I… couldn't hope to tell you, my friend. Margaery?"

"Oh, it's just Hogwarts slang," Margaery rolled her eyes. "'Mad lad' in particular describes your brother quite well, Prince Renly."

"Hogwarts… has many things to share with Westeros, I see," Renly said slowly.

"Throwin' a tissy, guv?" 'Dora cut in with a grin.

"He's bloody chuffed!" The twins piled on with matching grins. "Blimey bloke thinks he's going barmy!"

"C'mon, now, lads," Ginny joined in as well. "Don't go taking the mickey outta the poor wanker."

Ron snorted, "Daft git don't even know about cheeky Nandos."

As their jape went on, Renly's expression grew progressively blanker until he simply couldn't contain himself anymore, "… What? Loras…? Have I suddenly gone mad?"

Loras slowly shook his head in commiseration, "If you have, then my mind did not escape the effect either."

"Now the lads've gone 'round the bend, they has!" 'Dora exclaimed, practically cackling.

Atlas chuckled, "Alright, alright, enough torturing our gracious hosts with your terrible excuse for polite language, everyone. Trust that they don't mean anything bad by it, Prince Renly. The twins just have a way of spreading their mischief."

"They're infectious~!" Luna chimed. "Stick around them long enough, and you'll catch the funny~!"

"Ah," Renly nodded in realization, turning to Father. "My condolences, then, Lord Mace."

Father laughed, "Oh, no condolences necessary! If anything, I'm rather fond of their mischief at this point! Hugo's Hill, remind me to tell you the story of how they introduced the new Wizarding Fire Whiskey to Alerie's ladies-in-waiting!"

"Please don't," Mother sniffed imperiously, unable to hide the blush coloring her cheeks. "We're still recovering from that night. I believe dear Martha is still finding soot in her small clothes."

"Ah, yes," Renly chuckled with amusement. "Hogwarts' magic… I've heard a few tales, but I'm quite interested in learning more. Am I correct to believe your castle possessed it before it returned to Westeros?"

"In our homeland, magic has been a facet of life for as long as anyone can remember," Dumbledore said. "It is just as much a part of our people as blood or nobility. Perhaps even more important and precedent, for magic birthed us all and will continue to sustain us long into the future."

Renly leaned delicately on his hand and traced an absent finger around the rim of his wine goblet as he listened, "Fascinating… You and your people also came here by magic, yes? Some grand and egregious magic that spirited you away from your home? One that not even your magical lore can comprehend?"

"Indeed," Dumbledore sighed regretfully. "It's a rare and dangerous phenomenon. Only a few instances of anything similar have been found in our own legends. Even though we know it's not true, a part of me can't help but think we all died in that terrible spell, and this is all simply the next great adventure."

Renly's intrigued visage shifted to horror, "By the gods…!"

Grandmother rolled her eyes, "Oh, ignore him. The old goat is merely trying to put you ill at ease on purpose. He tends to delight in a very specific set of suffering."

"They are confident such is not the case. And even now, Hogwarts sets its many minds to the issue," Margaery spoke up, feeling the need to defend her friends. "In time, they will return to their homelands and even connect said homelands to Westeros by magic."

She said her words with supreme confidence. Enough so that the Wizards and Witches of Hogwarts couldn't help but grin at her faith in them. Still, Renly wasn't so easily soothed. Margaery could understand that. Existential horror and dread were recurring 'friends' around Hogwarts. She'd certainly never think of the Drowned God of the Ironborn in the same light ever again…

Still, the conversation naturally shifted after that, and Renly was left to question his preconceptions of reality. As one did after speaking to Dumbledore, of course. At least Renly had Loras to comfort him. Though — Margaery rolled her eyes — couldn't they even try to be more subtle?

Atlas turned to Mother with a question, "Lady Alerie? You hail from Oldtown originally, correct?"

Mother nodded, "Yes, I am a Hightower by birth. Why do you ask?"

Atlas smiled a disarming smile, "Oh, we merely intend to spend some time there while we're in the Reach. A few of its institutions have… caught our attention."

Mother blinked, looking slightly unsettled by the hidden tone in Atlas' words, "Pray tell, what do you mean, good Atlas?"

"Well, it's an intriguing place, isn't it? The oldest city in Westeros," Atlas casually elaborated. "Home to the Citadel and the beating heart of the Faith. Some of us would rather enjoy visiting another place of learning. You could say we have… business to attend to there."

Mother's eyes narrowed, "Would this… business… concern House Hightower?"

"Not at the moment," Atlas chuckled. "But I would appreciate if you could put in a good word for us with your birth House. We'll be gallivanting around in their city, after all. It's best for everyone if we develop something of an amiable relationship."

"I… shall write to my father. Perhaps you and your magic will even convince him to leave the summit of the Hightower," Mother slowly conceded, not sounding entirely convinced by her own idea. "In return, though, I would ask a question of you."

"A small price to pay," Atlas agreed, nodding. "Ask and I shall answer."

Mother's eyes turned uncharacteristically sharp as if she was trying to pin Atlas to his seat, "What exactly is your relationship with my daughter, and what exactly are your intentions with her?"

Atlas simply blinked at the interrogation, "I'm confused. We're courting, aren't we? That's the entire reason she stayed for a year in Hogwarts, isn't it?"

Mother's neck practically creaked as she slowly turned to Grandmother. At that moment, Olenna Tyrell looked like the picture of innocence. Just a kindly grandmother who wouldn't hurt a fly and had never done anything wrong in her life.

"Are you now…?" Mother ground out.

"It's a good match," Grandmother said without an ounce of shame or remorse.

"It is, Mother!" Margaery quickly backed Grandmother and her apparent deception. "I am happy with it. With him…"

Mother stared at Grandmother for a few moments longer, trying to make the Queen of Thorns flinch. She was unsuccessful. Eventually, something in Margaery's quick defense must have won out. Mother deflated, glancing to where Father was telling some story or another to Prince Renly, utterly occupied and oblivious to their exchange.

Mother sighed, "Very well. We will be having words later, both of you. But if you're truly happy, Margaery, I can't find the will to take action by myself so hastily."

The rest of the feast passed rather tensely for Margaery. She hadn't known about Grandmother's deception. Or was it simply an omittance of information? Either way, the effect was the same. Grandmother had been playing her usual games. Only, for once, Margaery found herself the subject of them. The fact that they hadn't backfired completely (yet…) was Margaery's only solace.

And moving forward, she couldn't let them backfire. Not on her. She didn't want to. A conversation in more depth with Mother loomed in her future. That would be… difficult to navigate, even with Grandmother on her side. The inevitable conversation with Father after would be even more so. Margaery didn't truly think her parents would go against her wishes, but they most certainly wouldn't be happy about being bypassed so thoroughly. Perhaps… Perhaps even unhappy enough to forbid her and Atlas to continue their relationship…

As such… steps would need to be taken. She would come to those conversations prepared, missing something that could not be taken back. Margaery had already been planning to take the future of her relationship into her own hands. Grandmother's deception and the prospect of it backfiring dramatically only reaffirmed that determination. And accelerated the timeframe of her plan, while adding a thrilling streak of rebellion that hadn't been entirely solid before. Tonight. She would act tonight, for Margaery could not hope to wait a moment longer.

The night went on and waned as the moon rose. The fervor of the feast passed, dying in the hearts and minds of those who would continue it, now addled by too much food and drink. More than a few of the guests passed out right at their tables. The rest retired to their quarters. The festivities officially came to a close when Mother led her merrily stumbling husband to bed. For that, Margaery was glad. There would be no talk between to be had tonight. And by the time the sun rose again, it would be too late.

Margaery slipped away from her chambers again after the moon had passed its peak. Quiet as any ghost, she took to halls that she knew like the back of her hand. She crept past her parents' bedchamber, hearing her Father's snores even through the door. Past Loras' rooms as well, rolling her eyes as she heard that he was still very much awake within.

She left her family's wing of the castle, only stopped briefly by the guards who stood vigil there. Still, she maneuvered past them without issue, simply claiming to need some fresh air. No harm would come to her in Highgarden. At least… none that she didn't intend to bring upon herself~…

Quickly making her way to the wing where the Hogwarts contingent was quartered, Margaery slipped into Atlas' room. He wasn't alone in his bed, but then, Margaery had been expecting as much. She'd made peace with his unique romantic situation. If anything, the idea of having future coven sisters was somewhat thrilling now. Still, she wished for her first time with him to be a private affair.

She coaxed him from the bed, earning herself a sleepy 'Yes, dear' from yawning lips. Doing so woke his current bedpartners. Sleep clouding their minds, Hermione and Heather sent Margaery off with their drowsy blessings.

"Congratulations…" Hermione muttered, her eyes barely open at all.

"Go get 'em, Rose-y…!" Heather 'cheered'.

Seemingly awake in an instant, Luna gave her blessing as well, unique as anything else she did, "Good luck~! He likes breeding presses~!"

"I do," Atlas nodded sagely, slowly coming around to full awareness. "I like them very much."

"N-Noted, my good ser," Margaery blushed as her composure was tested in full. "Now, come along. I have a place for us to steal away together, where no one will disturb our commitment…"

She took his hand in hers as she led him through the halls of Highgarden. It was large and strong and oh-so-warm. Gods, was she really doing this…? Her heart beat up a thumping rhythm that she could hear in her ears. She knew what she had to do, but Margaery still prayed to the Maiden for strength to do it.

Together, they made their way out of the keep, dodging guards, patrols, and simple drunks along the way. Oh, Margaery knew that Atlas could've made them essentially invisible. But the pseudo-spycraft was half of the fun in her mind. The sneaking around and the close calls thrilled her to no end. And as they left Highgarden's inner walls for the briar labyrinth beyond, there was a certain excitement in Margaery's heart and moisture betwixt her legs.

"I could not count the days I spent playing here as a young girl," She told Atlas.

"I'd imagine," Atlas nodded, much more awake and aware by now. "You must feel even more at home here now."

Indeed, she did. The plants of the labyrinth called to her like a song lingering on the edges of her mind. With her magic, she imagined turning the maze into a death trap for those who would dare invade her home. Or craft a blooming paradise the likes of which the world had never seen. She stretched out her hand and ran it through the briar. None of the thorns pricked her. Instead, flowers bloomed where she passed, and the leaves themselves seemed to rejoice.

She smiled under the moonlight. It must have been a sight for the songs, for Atlas couldn't take his eyes off her. Margaery reveled in his attention, dancing forth so he might follow her. As if she was a nymph or Child of the Forest, luring this son of man deeper into her domain. With his eyes on her, with his hands stealing touches and caresses in the dark, Margaery had never felt more excited, more desired, more powerful…

Seemingly at random, Margaery ducked into the briar itself. Atlas hesitated at its edge. Giggling to herself, Margaery came back for him and pulled him in after her anyway. She made sure the thorns didn't touch him either as she dragged him into her domain's embrace. The plants welcomed him as Margaery did, clutching Atlas to her breast as she let leaves and stems carry them to their destination.

He was hot against her body, even through the silk of her night clothes. Margaery wrapped herself around his lean muscles. Her questing hands reached for ever-more, accompanied by girlish giggles as she stroked his sides, ground against him, and pinched his butt. His hands replied in kind, a throaty sound that could only be called a growl smoldering in his chest.

Atlas seized her by her sides, holding her close as they were stolen away into the briar maze. None would find them tonight. They were alone, only themselves and the moon above for company. In that privacy, they explored each other's bodies. The thin clothes between them seemed to simply fall away, perhaps helpfully removed by dexterous vines. Margaery would never tell. And Atlas certainly didn't seem to be in any state to complain.

Bare skin scorched bare skin. His hardness was freed to the night's air, caught between something firm and something oh-so-soft. Margaery's quim fluttered and wept, grinding herself upon the base of his cock. Feminine and masculine danced beneath the moonlight, secreted away where only the Maiden could hope to watch.

'Let her~,' Margaery moaned. 'Let her watch and rejoice for us~…'

Kisses drew fire from Margaery's heart and up her neck. Her head fell back, allowing him free reign of her body. She would be his. And Atlas seemed determined to ensure there was no doubt of that fact in her mind. Her chest heaved against his. Every inch of their bodies felt as if it was connected, beyond just the physical, as they made the beast with two backs together. They must have been a lewd and lurid sight, a scene fitting for Hogwarts, A History.

"I-Inside~!" Margaery gasped.

Atlas needed no more encouragement to do his duty unto her. He nipped at her shoulder even as his hand palmed her plump and soft behind. Margaery shuddered and mewled as her body yielded to his touch. Then, she yielded even more. Wet lips parted, above and below. A rapturous moan escaped her as Atlas slid himself home within her as if he belonged there.

Margaery thanked the Maiden for her near-painless deflowering. Atlas stretched her wide, opening her to her core and filling that opening. But Margaery was wet. She was ready for him. And she was more than willing. She wrapped herself around him like a silk-fitted glove. Atlas buried his head deep in the crook of her neck and buried his blessed cock even deeper. As he touched every part of her — inside and out, filling her completely and perfectly — Margaery knew why Fleur thought him to be her god…

When he moved, Atlas did not thrust so much as roll his hips against her. It was a long, almost languid stroke that Margaery felt on every inch of her walls. He dragged himself out of her and rolled himself back in, and Margaery just about came apart with his motions. She fluttered, she quivered, she reached her first peak before even realizing how far gone she was.

She moaned his name as she came, hugging him with her arms and her legs so that he might never leave her, "AaaAAahHhnn~! Atlas~!"

Atlas only gripped her hips and fucked into her even harder. By the Maiden, she was like a toy to him. Her small, soft, sensual body was his to play with, his to bring to pleasure, and his to take pleasure from in turn. Wet slapping sounds filled their coupling, and Margaery was only barely conscious enough to recognize where they came from.

*PLAP PLAP PLAP PLAP PLAP* "Ah~, Maiden spare me~!" She mewled.

The evidence of her arousal and pleasure might as well have slapped Margaery in the face… just as Atlas slapped into her again and again, driving her to even lewder heights. It was too much for her ecstasy-stricken mind. Again, she came undone on Atlas' cock. Again, she clutched him tightly inside and out. Again, she thanked the Maiden for the blessed pleasure delivered unto her mind, body, and soul.

It was with Margaery's second climax that Atlas buried himself inside her. He filled her just right, and then some, as heat blossomed in her core. Atlas spilled his seed within her deepest depths with tense muscles and twitching, grinding thrusts. Margaery accepted everything he could give her, clinging to him like a limpet to a ship's hull.

There, beneath the moonlight and only the Maiden's eyes, Margaery Tyrell left maidenhood behind. She took her fate into her own hands and ensured that she wouldn't be taken from the man she'd spent a whole year courting — she'd put considerable work into Atlas and the White Coven, she was loathe to see it ruined. And… she tasted her first serving of true, carnal pleasure… It only left her hungry for more~