Ind., selective sideblog for Harry James Potter. written by Saturn. Follows will come from saturninebravery.
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❝ ᴀ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ɴᴏɴsᴇɴsᴇ ɴᴏᴡ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇɴ
ɪs ʀᴇʟɪsʜᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡɪsᴇsᴛ ᴍᴇɴ. ❞
▲ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ △ ʀᴜʟᴇs ▲
▲ Ind., highly-selective ▲ Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore *from the Harry Potter book saga ▲ written by Saturn ▲ sideblog to saturninebravery and hallowedlived ▲ artwork by Quaedam ▲ est. Jun’15
#{while i attempt to tackle my drafts}#{FOLLOW MAH MAN DUMBLEDOOR}#{if u want to be confused or manipulated or both}#;promo
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@mindthevoices
Fishy
Gryffindor: why are you all dressed up? what are you doing?
Slytherin: fishing
Gryffindor: for what?!
Slytherin: compliments
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@worth12malfoys ♥ for a starter!
“Hey Neville, great job today!” Harry whispered in his ear as he gave the other Gryffindor a light pat on the shoulder, and flashed him a grin in a show of camaraderie. Neville had performed particularly well during their last DA session - more so than usual, having successfully knocked back a couple of people with stupefy. It made Harry feel great, as if he’d accomplished that much himself; and in a way, it had. It made him feel useful, and most importantly, it reminded him there were people who truly believed him and Dumbledore.
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@calleo-bricriu ♥ for a starter!
“Having a late one?” Harry asked the archivist, looking up from the paperwork that was strewn across his desk.The candles were growing thin and the hour darker. The Ministry hallways were eerily deserted, save from the usual ghosts that haunted them. He could feel the lateness behind his eyes, but when he got onto a case there was very little that could really deter him from obsessively poring over the details. At least he didn’t have to think of the melancholy that awaited him back at Grimmauld Place. “Thanks for the files on the Liverpool attack of ‘81, by the way. I know it’s extra work for you, so I appreciate you indulging my random requests.” hopefully, he thought, not so random once he figured out the finer pieces of the puzzle.
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@jollyhalfgiant ♥ for a starter!
“How do you do it, Hagrid?” he asked the gentle giant, stirring the hard blocks of sugar in his tea absent-mindedly. Something heavily weighed on the Gryffindor’s young mind. “You’re so … positive all the time.”
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@thewrongsorts ♥ for a starter!
“---you can’t just barge into my room without knocking, dad! it’s called privacy!” whatever he needed said privacy for had haphazardly been shoved under his pillow, the corner of the book poking out just slightly.
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@furryproblem ♥ for a starter!
“Why did you just ... stand there?” Harry asked his former professor and friend accusingly, green eyes wide with a pained look. He was still raw from what he’d seen in the Pensieve, and from what Sirius had told him about the .. lesser pursuits the Marauders had undertaken in their younger days. He didn’t want to believe it, but his heart could not ignore the reality he’d witnessed.
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@tnott ♥ for a starter!
“Hah. Well, it was .... dumb luck, I guess. Followed the instructions carefully, is all.” Harry lied, mildly surprised that Nott had approached him to comment on the flawless execution of his Draught of the Living Dead, courtesy of that mangy old textbook he’d used. He figured it was bound to stir up some of the more ... academically inclined. He always felt a bit guilty about lying so brazenly, but he was not going to suddenly pretend he was some potions genius when he clearly was not. For now.
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@severelysnapped ♥ for a starter!
“... I was just looking for the loo, sir. I--er, got lost.”
he probably should have made more of an effort to lie to his acerbic professor, but he knew Snape would see straight through it anyway and he was rather annoyed at having lost Malfoy’s trail.
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@loathedlineage ♥ for a starter!
“Hey Amelia, how realistic would it be to be eaten by the Giant Squid? It’s for my Divination assignment, and believe it or not I am running out of creative ways to die.”
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“Hah, yeah. I see why, it’s nice in here.” nice and lonely, he thought. He could relate to the need to isolate oneself, to get away from it all and find a sanctuary. He thought Hogwarts would be just that, but it had turned out not to be - at least not in its entirety. People were people, and they were shit no matter where you went.
“Nev ...” he began with a shaky sigh, carefully clutching the freshly scarred hand to cover the evidence of his latest detention; I must not tell lies was still etched red into his skin in his fine handwriting. “ ... You believe me, right?” about Voldemort, of course. But with all the garbage the Daily Prophet was publishing on a daily basis, besmirching the Headmaster's reputation as well as his own, it’s not like he could have meant much else. He hoped she would understand, and not only because she was a friend; sadly, when it came to Voldemort, Nev and Harry had a lot in common.
Nev tilted her head inquisitively towards Harry for a moment, as her storm colored eyes surveyed his face. He was troubled, that much was clear, but because of what, she didn’t know.
Smiling, she stood and stretched her arms. “ It needs to be warm in here, the plants like it.” she explained as she took a few steps closer to Harry. He made it sound that his purpose was solely to see her, but that couldn’t be true, could it? Why would he want to see her….alone?
“ I’m always here, Harry.” she replied and slid her hands in her pockets. “ Are you okay? You seem…distracted.”
@hallowedlived Continued from here: X
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ϟ // james @thewrongsorts
that scar tracing meme - accepting.
“Da …?” Harry cracked one eye open as fingers delicately brushed along the scar tissue on his clammy forehead, his voice still a murmur laced with sleep. He’d been crying before he’d passed out in his clothes and glasses, and his tears had dried leaving crusty streaks on his dirt-matted face. He found that exhaustion helped keeping the night terrors at bay, and he refused to take Dreamless Sleep or calming draughts. He needed the pain, he desperately needed to feel every ounce of its agony. His scar throbbed, but that had become a dull sting compared to that which was tearing his heart out of his chest and making it hard to breathe.
Sirius.
As consciousness sank in Harry turned away from his father. He couldn’t stand to look at him; it was selfish and cruel to push him away when he likely needed it the most, but talking about what had happened was not going to help either of them out the slump. It was too soon. He ached for his father’s grief, for Remus’, for everyone who ever loved Sirius. It was too much to take. Harry was a boy who always felt too much, and he felt the agony around him as if it were his own, increasing it tenfold.
@thewrongsorts
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thewrongsorts:
“Binns?” James’ hand jumped to his chest, jaw dropping in melodramatic indignation. “What the hell, kid? I trusted you.” He couldn’t maintain the mock outrage, though, and in another moment he laughed and shook his head. “Anyhow, don’t get cocky. This is what you have to look forward to when you get older— your jokes are going to be just like mine.”
The theatrics scored an earnest chortle from the teenager. It was really hard to keep a straight face after that, but Harry tried his damnedest. “As long as I don’t inherit the receding hairline, I can live with the jokes. I better spend the next two decades improving them, though.”
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mindthevoices:
“Interesting.” Blaise shrugged. If it was muggle of course he wouldn’t recognize it. “Why in Merlin’s name would they name it after an animal?” He wondered out loud, but shook his head. “Certainly must be the reason I can’t place it, then. I know most colognes and perfumes and the like, but if it’s of muggle origin—” He left it dangling in the air, as if it was the most natural thing in the world to know colognes and perfumes by scent alone. He quickly added, “My mother buys a lot of them.”
“My point, Potter, is that Malfoy can be a sodding git sometimes and doesn’t know what he’s talking about. You have nice hair. Better than some at least.” Then he pointed at the Gryffindor. “Don’t read too much into that. I simply know good looks when I see them. It doesn’t mean that I like you.” But then he shrugged again, dark brown eyes twinkling with something that could be described as mischief. “But I don’t hate you either, so consider yourself lucky for that as well, since I hate most everyone.”
“Fine nose then, huh? It was the first thing I used, and it just stuck. It’s really common among muggles.” it was whatever was left over from Dudley - he didn’t particularly care for fragrances as he never had access to so much as an aftershave, but he knew better than to be a teenage boy and not wear deodorant. Aunt Petunia had to practically beg his cousin to wear it, especially in the summer when not even her enthusiastic overuse of lavender Febreeze and scented candles could save their nostrils. He remembered hearing his aunt Marge complain about how expensive a small bottle of perfume was, so it made sense that rich people would take a liking to nice luxury items like that. He wasn’t one for manufactured perfumes in general, but it probably was because most of the time the older women he knew wore far too much to be even remotely pleasant to his sensitive nose, and made his eyes watery.
“Uh... right.” Harry rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, a nervous habit he had when he was at a loss for words (which happened all too often). What Blaise Zabini said next made him wonder if he was hearing voices again, but it was more likely that the haughty Slytherin was playing some sort of prank on him. There was no way one of Malfoy’s own entourage would openly call him a git in front of his biggest rival, right? Not to mention be gratuitously complimentary of him, any part of him. Especially since Zabini was as stylish and well-groomed as Harry was messy and dowdy. He was sick of hearing himself mutter awkward thanks, but at the time his brain wasn’t really helping him out with anything more eloquent. “er, thanks...” again. “Surprised I didn't make it to your hate list. I'm happy with indifference, though.” he knew he probably shouldn’t have encouraged further conversation, but his endlessly thirsty curiosity always got the better of him.
;
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It wasn’t as if he was expecting any other sort of reaction (he’d provoked him, after all). But it wasn’t just clinical curiosity that had prompted Harry to snap at him so callously, just to see how the goaded bull would react; it was genuine frustration, something that had crept up on him and taken him by surprise. He didn’t have the time to question it. But fact was, though Harry was a deeply empathetic character, Draco’s behaviour (like any of his vast collection of bullies) just exasperated him to the point where he would often give up trying to understand it and hit back harder. Perhaps it may not have been as uncalled for as others had- he had turned down his snooty request for friendship in their first year, after all- but the viciousness seemed to escalate by the year, rather than slacken.
And suddenly, Draco seemed to deflate. Level with him, even. Harry stopped in his tracks, almost forgot to breathe as a puzzled frown crawled across his scarred forehead. He really wasn’t very good at hiding his emotional responses, but he didn’t care if Draco saw that, and it didn’t look like the blond cared much to hide his current state of mind either. There was no way he was going to leave now, not after witnessing a crack in the Slytherin rival’s glassy veneer, which further stoked his burning curiosity. “I don’t pity you.” he replied in a half-hearted mumble, wondering why he felt like he was lying to himself. His fingers automatically clenched into fists as he did when he was slightly nervous. “And if you’re referring to that disaster of an introduction in the first year, that wasn’t being nice. You were actually being a prick to Ron, and you’ve been a shit to me ever since. You always hit first.” he sighed, knowing that it was unfair to blame a kid for his parents’ misconceptions in his upbringing; “Even I knew back then that it’s not okay to treat people like dirt for no reason.” he had been a kid himself, of course. He had not known anything about a support system, or how parents can negatively influence people. He had none himself, and yet he turned out okay. He’d already found a friend and didn’t particularly want to be around another classist bully, flanked by two Dudley look-a-likes of all things. So naturally he had turned down his request for friendship, thinking it was just some spoilt brat trying to take advantage of his newfound fame. “Why are you still angry at me for it? Was I the first person who didn’t give you what you wanted, or something?”
“Maybe if you tried being nice every once in a while you would actually have people who cared about you.” {from Harry (hallowedlived) to Draco :D}
@hallowedlived
“I don’t need your sympathies or your pity, Potter!” the words slashed vilely through the silent halls. Draco was unable to form a proper word right now, let alone being nice.
“What do you know about being nice?” his tone lowered but he couldn’t bring himself to look into those shining pools of green without falling to their depts. His eyes fixed on nothing, staring blankly at the wall in front of him, arms crossed about his chest like useless shields to protect a heart too sensible for whom he’d need to be.
A soft sigh echoed, his shoulders slouched visibly. Defeated. “I tried to be nice to you but…” he thought back to when he had first seen Harry. Back when they were kids. When Draco’s mind was calm and not burdened with the weight of a Dark Mark plastered on his life. “…doesn’t matter. Just leave.” his voice cracked, rusted as if he’d not used it in days.
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;
gonna try to do more here today so like for a sm0l starter from the dork who lived
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concept: harry has two modes in the sack
clueless dork prince or
testosterone fuelled ball of randiness
#{sinday headcanon bc why not}#nsfw#{why are you like this}#;never met a kinder heart than yours. {headcanon}#;filled with sacrifice and robes of lust. {desires}
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