#*high-tens everyone who stands still long enough to be accosted*

[sanguinarysanguinity]

COMPLETE 

FUCKING 

DRAFT 

BABY

[samgwrites]

Locked Doors

Fandom: The Magnus Archives

Chapter 2 of 2 What happens when your who is returned to your what.  

Read on AO3

Michael didn’t want to go to a hospital, and Jon agreed that it  would probably be best to not deal with doctors obsessing over someone who had been presumed dead for seven years. Luckily, Tim apparently knew a good amount of wilderness first aid, so after a slightly hectic few minutes trying to find the emergency kit, the current assistant was setting the former assistant’s hand in gauze while Jon had run off to inform the rest of the staff about the current situation. Couldn’t have someone accost the stranger wandering the institute, not again, even if Michael insisted that he would prefer to be out of everyone’s hair as soon as possible. 

He would prefer to just be done with the Magnus Institute. 

He peered down at Tim as the other man wrapped his hand. Tim was frowning, but the anger from earlier seemed to have vanished from his expression, replaced with a stern focus. Not exactly an approachable look, but that had never stopped Michael before.

“Can I ask you a question?” He said, leaning forward and hiss slightly as Tim tugged a bit too hard on his hand. 

“What?” Tim responded, not looking up. Michael sighed. 

“It’s sort of a weird request but… can you tell me what I look like?” This did catch Tim’s attention, and he looked up at Michael quizzically. 

“What?” Michael glanced aware under the gaze, grinning nervously.

“I haven’t exactly been able to use a proper mirror in a while… it’s been awhile since I’ve seen myself without the distortion ruining the image,” He thought for a moment. “I can’t even remember what it looked like to be honest. I mostly just remember enough neon to be nauseating,” Tim hummed, before dropping Michael’s hand and standing up. Michael frowned, realizing he might be asking too much. “It’s fine if you don’t want to tell me, I know it’s weird-” Tim waved his own hand, running the other one over his face and through his hair. 

“It’s… it’s fine. I can tell you. You’re pretty average looking, I guess? You got this blond mop of hair, you’re pretty pale, greyish eyes. I knew about ten guys that could practically be your double from when I was at uni. The weirdest bit is that you don’t even look that different? 

“Your hand’s normal, far as I can tell, and your voice doesn’t give me a migraine anymore. You just look like a normal guy. The sweater is a little weird, but it’s not as flashy as I think it was,” Michael looked down at what he was wearing. They were the same clothes from his journey into the mountains, but they were definitely different. They did look older, to start. His jeans were ripped where they hadn’t been. His sweater was worn at the wrists and he figured the coat he’d attempted to lend Gertrude was frozen on a cliff somewhere. He looked back at Tim, and was startled to find the assistant staring intently at him with an odd look that he couldn’t place. Tim turned away.

“Your hand should be fine for now, it’s not a bad break. Try not to use it for awhile if you can.”

“Thank you,”

“Are you really Michael?” 

“What?”

“Are you really Michael Shelley? Or is this just some weird trick to lure us into a false sense of security. Those fucking clowns are up to something, woudn’t be that surprised if you were working together,

“The circus? No, I hate the circus-” He cut himself off. Did he hate the circus? He hadn’t actually known about the unknowing before Gertrude decided to feed him to delusion incarnate. Did he hate the Stranger, or was it simply remnants of a thing lodged into him?

No. No he hated it. He could remember that much. The distortion had wanted him to interfere, but so had he. It was a ritual, like the ones Gertrude had been after. If he could throw a wrench in its workings, then perhaps no one else would receive his fate. But that isn’t exactly how that small thought buried in his mind had been realized. His face hardened. 

“I hate the Stranger and the Spiral and every other so-called god. My name is Michael Shelley, and if that isn’t who I am then I would prefer someone to let me know now before I get any hope back. Now,” He stood, moving towards the door, “thank you so much for the first aid, but I’d really like to get out of here as soon as possible.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Tim said, voice unsure, glancing between Michael and the door.

“It’s a wonderful idea,” Michael ground out, and left the room. He did not slam the door behind him, but the thought crossed his mind. He had never been one for slamming doors. Perhaps now was the time to start.

Seeing Elias Bouchard in the Hallway before the elevator back up to the library was a bit of a shock.

Well, not a shock. It wasn’t that surprising to see the head of an institute standing in a commonly walked area of said institute.  But Michael was not prepared for it in the least. He stumbled and felt himself pale slightly at the sight of the man standing so nonchalantly. This man was a murderer. A direct conduit of the eye.

Michael had met Elias when he’d first started at the institute. The older man had been alright, if a little bit unpleasant to be around. He was intimidating but only in the way that a university student who drinks and parties on weekends is intimidating to someone in secondary school. Which is to say, not that intimidating once you realize how much of an idiot the man is. 

The Elias standing in front of him wasn’t an idiot. He’d grown a lot around the time he became the head of the institute. He looked sharp despite his age, and his eyes bore into Michael. After a moment he smiled, and his grin was nearly reflective. 

“Mr.Shelley! How wonderful of you come back to us! We’ve missed you,” Michael had seen a hunter before. The distortion had enjoyed trapping one or two in its mazes, giggling as they would chase each other or his other prey around, not noticing that they were being devoured themselves. The expression on the other man was far more predatory than any he’d ever seen on those animalistic creatures. Michael felt his mouth go dry, but it shifted into his usual friendly workplace smile anyway. 

“Hello Mr.Bouchard,” He said, “I was actually just leaving. Wouldn’t want to be in your way,” But neither of them moved. The hallway was small, and while Michael was lanky enough that he could have definitely fit on either side of Elias, it felt as if any attempt would end poorly for him. Though he was probably just paranoid. When Elias just continued to look at him, he continued. “Actually, I did want to talk to Jon before I left, have you seen him?” 

“Oh, yes, he’s talking to Martin right now. Explaining everything so the poor man doesn’t jump out of his skin when he sees you. Wouldn’t want a repeat of what happened with Tim no would we?” The man’s tone was far too light for how sick Michael was starting to feel. “Especially now that you’ll be working together,” 

“What?” 

“Oh, well of course! I don’t blame you for not thinking of work, I’m sure your head’s still a little fuzzy, but you never actually resigned. And you’ll need work anyway to get back on your feet. The archival assistant position has actually gotten a higher salary since you’ve been gone. Now, if you could just come up to my office and sign some paperwork…” His voice turned to static in Michael’s ears. What a cruel joke. To still be trapped somewhere after finally escaping hell… but the more he thought about it, the more he sensed a lie. 

He remembered thinking about quitting back before Gertrude had started pretending to value him. He had thought a lot about finding a less high stress archiving job, maybe with more people his age, but he’d never been able to bring himself to do it. The spiral had known how the eye trapped people, not terribly unlike how it trapped people in their own broken minds. He didn’t feel that now. There was no reluctance, no hesitation. The sick feeling in his stomach was simply because this man had far too much blood on his hands for anyone to be comfortable talking to him. The eye didn’t have hold on him anymore.

Perhaps he could thank Gertrude for something after all. He grinned back.

“Actually, I’m afraid I won’t be returning to work. Seven years is quite the long vacation, and I’m afraid I’ve forgotten most of what my position entailed aside from being condescended to, and I don’t miss it. Besides, you wouldn’t want any lingering distortion to mix up your carefully organized files, right?” He leveled a stare at Elias, trying to ignore the slight way his unbandaged hand was twitching. “I’d like to find Jon now, if you wouldn’t mind.” 

“Try the kitchen,” And then Elias walked away, leaving Michael alone once more.

Jon was not in the kitchen. There was, however, a woman that he’d never seen before making tea, who jumped slightly when he opened the door. She seemed a bit younger than him, or maybe just much smaller, with brightly dyed hair wearing a graphic tea. He’d say the spiral had influenced her fashion choices, but she looked far too serious for that to be the case. 

“Ah, um, hello,” She started, “Uh… who are you? I don’t think you’re supposed to be down here,” She spoke with an unsure amount of authority. 

“I’m Michael. Michael Shelley,” He waited for the flinch or gasp of some sort, but it didn’t come. She just continued to look at him with a sort of sneering disinterest. There was something in her eye that almost seemed familiar, but he chose to ignore it. So Jon hadn’t gotten to explain things to her yet. Well. He’d love a conversation with someone who wasn’t familiar with the monster, and it wasn’t like he was lying. Not completely.

“I know Jon,” He said, trying to sound appeasing, “I needed his help with something so I thought I’d stop by,” She didn’t look convinced. 

“Not to be rude mate, but you look like you just got hit by a bus,” Michael laughed in response. 

“Honestly I feel like I might have been. I uh, had a bit of an accident this morning,” He held up his wrapped hand, “A regular one of your institute scary stories I think,” Michael could see when she closed off. They stood in silence for a moment, him smiling nervously while moving on the balls of his feet, and her holding her fresh cup of tea looking like she’d lash out if he made any sudden movements. In the end she just shook her head and sighed. 

“I think there’s a cot in the store room if you need a place to crash for a bit. Doubt anyone would try to stop you.” She said finally, before taking a long sip of tea and walking out. She might’ve mumbled something rude under her breath, but Michael just nodded absently and stood there for a minute, before turning. 

Michael didn’t care about talking to Jon now. He really needed to get out of this institute. 

Two days later, they sat across from each other at a coffee shop, both of their reflections looking perfectly natural in the well cleaned window. They had gotten chances to talk in the past couple of days, mainly right outside the institute, so it was nice to just sit in a peaceful environment. Jon had gotten himself the blackest tea that Michael had personally ever seen, and he’d gotten Michael a hot chocolate and a sandwich. Michael stared at the spiral shape of the whipped cream before breaking it with his spoon. They talked for a while, mainly pleasantries, both obviously unsure where to start the serious conversation. Jon broke the peace first. 

“Elias is sending me abroad,” Jon said and a small part of Michael panicked. 

“I’m not coming,” The words burst out of him before he could think about any other reason Jon might be telling him this.

“What? No, I didn’t mean… I wouldn’t ask you to come. I’m not that dense, I don’t expect you to come, of course not. I just…” Jon trailed off for a moment “I know you’ve been sleeping outside these past few nights.” It wasn’t Michael’s fault he didn’t have enough cash for anything more than a park bench. At least it’s spring, he’d thought. But it wasn’t like he wanted Jon to know that, even if the knowing was unavoidable. 

“I-”

“Michael,” The blond man sighed and looked down. 

“Yeah. Yeah.” 

“I didn’t want to push you, because I know this is hard,” Michael couldn’t stop the slight chuckle that escaped him. Jon smiled at him softly and continued. “You are probably going to have to reenter society eventually? Basira still has some pull with the police, I really don’t think you’ll experience too much trouble in that department. What I wanted to talk to you about is if you’d want to stay at my flat for awhile?”

“It’s fine if you don’t, I know you’re not exactly comfortable with… me… yet,” Jon held up a hand when Michael began to protest and continued, “but I’ll probably be out of the house for a month or so anyway and I’d really appreciate it if you could keep an eye on things,” They both knew that wasn’t the reason. Michael could tell that Jon simply wanted him somewhere safe and to be able to check in, and for him to feel like he was at least somewhat in control of his new normal. Perhaps not all archivists were good liars after all. “And Michael?” Jon reached over and gently touched Michael’s injured hand with his own recently scarred one. “I’d like to be friends,” Michael froze. Those words sounded so familiar. Like they were his in a distant, broken way. They felt safe. They felt true. Michael smiled, perhaps the first purely genuine smile he’d shown in the past few days. In the past few years. And he knew his answer wasn’t a lie. 

“I’d love to.”

[inmyownlittlecorner5]

Moonlight Chapter Seven: Settling Up

A fanfic Novel by la-topolina

Rated for Mature Audiences

Warnings: Language, Violence, Sexual Content

Chapter 7/26

Moonlight Masterpost+

<< Chapter Six+

Chapter Eight+ >>

----------------------

"Hem, hem, May I assist you?" asked a high, girlish voice.

Miranda had been accosted by the stout, pink-clad woman almost the instant she had set foot inside the massive doors of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She eyed the shorter woman and thought she strongly resembled a pink toad.

Miranda forced a friendly smile and replied, "I hope so. Would you mind showing me to Headmaster Dumbledore's office?"

"And what might your business be at Hogwarts?” the other woman demanded in a sickly sweet tone.

"It's private," Miranda said lightly, easy smile still on her face.

"I don't think I caught your name Miss?"

"Rose," Miranda shook the toad’s pudgy hand firmly. "I'm from the other side of the pond."

"I can see that." The other woman stared at Miranda long enough that she was beginning to wonder if the woman was ever going to comply. Finally she drew herself up to her full, if diminutive, height and said importantly, "Well, this way."

Being as Miranda did not know any of the school passwords, the pink toad accompanied her into Dumbledore's office. Miranda studied the magnificent assortment of objects with obvious pleasure as they waited. They did not have to wait very long before a thin wizard with a long white beard and bright blue eyes entered the office.

"Ah, Miss Rose, very punctual I see," he said pleasantly. "That will be all, Professor Umbridge, thank you." Umbridge puffed up as though she were going to argue—or croak—but settled for sniffing and waiting just outside the door in a futile attempt to overhear their conversation.

“I’m not always punctual," Miranda confessed after the door was closed on Umbridge. "but I wanted to make a good first impression."

They sat and tea appeared for both of them. “I appreciate the effort and the honesty,” Albus said, smiling at her over his half-moon glasses. “What brings you to my office?"

Miranda felt a bit of pink creeping across her cheeks. "Actually, my business is with one of your staff. Since I'm a stranger, I thought it best to introduce myself to you first, rather than simply barge in."

"I see. A wise decision. Which of my staff is the fortunate one?"

"Professor Severus Snape."

Albus's eyebrows raised and his eyes twinkled merrily. "Really? Is he expecting you?"

"No, I doubt it. Perhaps I should explain a bit more. I’ve been working in England for the last six months. I’m a bounty hunter and twice over the summer Professor Snape was kind enough to assist me. I wasn't able to repay him after the second incident, as term started just after it. I wanted to wait until everyone was likely to be settled in here before coming to finish up the business."

"I see." Albus steepled his fingers, "Severus is a very useful man. May I ask what he did this time to deserve such a visit?"

Miranda hadn't intended to tell the Headmaster any details, but the merry twinkling of his eyes put her at ease. Perhaps they reminded her of her own father's eyes and she found herself recounting the events of both the vampire and the werewolf case more completely than she had planned. "I'd probably be dead if he hadn't taken it upon himself to help me. He proved to be a proficient healer, much to my surprise,” she finished.

"Severus is proficient in many things," Albus observed.

Miranda's blush returned and she felt frustrated that she was acting like a schoolgirl with a crush. "I was thinking that if I came by on a Friday afternoon when classes were over it would be a good time,” she said.

"Well, I don't keep tabs on my staff during their off hours. Is there a reason that you didn't send him an owl?"

"I like having the element of surprise."

Albus didn't seem shocked by this answer. "Understandable. Well," he said, glancing at a clock with twelve hands and no numbers, "there is about a half an hour left in Severus's class. Why don't you go down to the dungeons and sit in on the end of it?"

"Oh, I wouldn't want to interrupt him while he’s working," Miranda protested.

"I understand that, however it would be wisest if you were not wandering the corridors with Professor Umbridge again. She will be trapped in her own classroom for the next half hour as well. If I know Severus at all, he'll have you stowed away before the dear woman has a chance to catch up to you."

"Understood." Miranda smiled broadly at the Headmaster. "Thank you for the advice. And the tea."

"You're most welcome dear. Oh, one more thing."

"Yes?"

"If you intend to return another time, do let Severus know that you have my full permission to use the staff entrance."

"Thank you, Headmaster."

"Of course. Now off with you!”

----------------------------

Severus sat at his desk marking scrolls, looking for all the world like a malevolent bat. School had been in session for a month and he was now sure that Miranda would not be making her promised appearance. He was displeased by this thought and angry with himself for caring. He was also angry with himself for having wasted so much time with her after the werewolf incident. He hated wasting time and he hated feeling like a fool and his anger bubbled just beneath the surface of his cold exterior. Most of his students could sense it and took extra trouble not to draw his attention. They worked quietly and tensely, dreading the time that he would rise from his desk and begin stalking up and down the aisle of the classroom, criticizing their work.

“Your potions should be purple by now,” he snapped.

“Purple, purple, has no rhyme, hope to get it right this time,” Luna Lovegood sang quietly from the back of the room.

He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He found teaching potions to Luna Lovegood even more trying than teaching them to Neville Longbottom. She was not a bad student per se— in fact, she was usually rather capable. However, it was impossible to tell when she would simply begin working on something completely different. She was impervious to both criticism and sarcasm and neither extra assignments nor detentions seemed to have any effect on her. Honestly, he was a bit concerned that she would blow up the potions room before she earned her O.W.L. He settled for pairing her with Margaret Baskerville, a quiet Ravenclaw with very good reflexes, and sitting them in the back of the room far away from the supply closet.

“Oh look, an American!” Luna observed, pointing at the closed door to the potions classroom.

In spite of their fear of Professor Snape, most of the students could not help looking from the closed door to Luna and giggling.

“Silence!” Severus hissed. Immediately, the offending students choked down their laughter and tried to appear focused on their work.

As soon as order was restored, the classroom door creaked open, and everyone’s heads turned to see the disturbance. Severus, expecting to see Professor Umbridge—he knew she had begun sitting in on other teacher’s classes and “evaluating” them—rose slowly from his desk and turned to glare at her. His face froze however, when he saw that Miranda Rose was standing in the door of his classroom, and not Professor Umbridge.

Miranda had the grace to blush when she realized that the entire classroom was staring at her. She put on a brave smile, entered the room, and closed the door behind her. She crossed to Severus, very aware of how loud her boots were on the stone floor, and leaned in to whisper in his ear,

"Sorry to interrupt. Headmaster sent me down so I wouldn't run into that Umbridge woman again. I'll sit in the back until you're done."

Potions forgotten, the class continued to stare at Miranda as she took a seat in the back of the room, near Luna and Margaret.

Severus barked, "Get back to work!" Then he sat back down at his desk, making a show of mark scrolls while he attempted to rein in his racing thoughts.

Miranda smothered a smile and pulled out a book, trying to pretend that she was invisible. The students were busily adding ginger root to their cauldrons and the room was again silent, except for Luna who was chanting,

“Moses supposes his toeses are roses, But Moses supposes erroneously; For nobody's toeses are posies of roses, As Moses supposes his toeses to be.”

“Miss. Lovegood!” Severus snapped. “How many times to I have to tell you not to chant foolish incantations in my class? Ten points from Ravenclaw.”

Luna stopped chanting, but did not look at all troubled by his outburst. Miranda bit her lips to keep from laughing, and tried to focus on Death Comes for the Archbishop.

By the time Severus had regained control of his mind, class was over. The stern look on his face warned most of the students not to talk as they hastily bottled samples of their potions and set them on a shelf for grading. Their eagerness to begin the weekend overcame their curiosity of who the stranger was, and they quickly cleared their desks and filed out of the room.

Luna, however, lagged behind. She had taken time to draw a few flowers on her vial’s label and painstakingly rearrange a few of the shelves in the store closet, muttering something about “good energy.” She returned to the back of the classroom, put away One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi, and pulled out a magazine and a spiral bound notebook with a quill attached. She approached Miranda, who looked up from her book to return the girl’s smile.

“Hello. I see you’re almost finished with your book. I expect you’ll be waiting around quite a bit this evening, so I thought this would help you pass the time,” Luna said, handing Miranda the latest issue of The Quibbler.

“That’s very thoughtful of you. Thank you,” Miranda replied seriously. She took the magazine and put it in her bag.

“I was wondering if you’d like to sign up for a subscription. Its completely secret,” Luna explained, showing her the blank notebook. “Once you put down your information, nobody can see it. And you can cancel at any time. My father’s the editor, you see.”

“I’d be delighted.” Miranda took the quill and wrote down her information, which glowed briefly and then disappeared.

“Have a nice weekend. I think it’s going to rain,” Luna said.

“You too,” Miranda replied.

Luna took her things and headed for the door. “Good afternoon, Professor,” she said, as she passed Severus’s desk.

During Miranda’s conversation with Luna, Severus had finished closing up his classroom for the weekend. He locked the door and shuttered the windows, stalking ominously towards Miranda, his face an unreadable mask.

When he got to the back of the room he ordered, “Come.” Then he turned and started striding away.

Miranda quickly put her book in her bag. By the time she had done so, he had disappeared through another door and she had to run to catch up with him. They passed through a narrow passageway filled with potion ingredients and books. This led to a tidy, if a bit disturbingly decorated office. He didn't stop there, but went through another passageway, narrower and darker than the previous. With a flick of his wand, the door at the end of the passage opened, and they entered a dark sitting room, walls lined with books. He slammed the door and locked it with another flick of his wand.

They stood facing each other, both catching their breath after the flight.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded curtly, his dark eyes unreadable.

"I came to settle up after the werewolf case," she replied. She kept her voice even, although she was beginning to wonder if coming had been a good idea. "I thought I should give you time return to the school routine before I came barging in."

He paused. "That was...considerate," he allowed. "Who else knows you are here besides Albus and Umbridge?"

"No one. And Umbridge doesn't know who I am or why I am here. Headmaster knows basically everything."

"Does he?" He ran his eyes over her body and she felt a blush creep over her cheeks.

"Well, I didn't go into all the scandalous details, but he seems shrewd enough to have inferred at least some of them."

He managed to look both amused and annoyed at this. A bell rang, magically amplified, signaling dinner and his amusement disappeared.

"If I do not appear at the staff table after your interruption of my class, there will be questions that I do not care to answer. Stay here. I will deal with you after dinner," he commanded. And, without waiting for a response from her, he strode out of the room, locking it behind him.

She felt a bit less confident now than she had when she had first arrived at Hogwarts that afternoon. Perhaps she should have sent an owl first. She supposed that not everyone appreciated being caught off guard. She started pacing restlessly around the gloomy sitting room. It had small windows, high on the walls, that seemed only to view the indoors. What little light they let in only served to make the room appear darker. There was a fire burning in the stone fireplace and one armchair covered in black leather. On one wall stood a desk with quills, ink bottles, and parchment all neatly stacked. The other walls were lined almost to the ceiling with leather bound books. She started shelf-reading and noticed that while many of them were on magical subjects--potion making, charms, dueling, dark arts--there was also Coleridge, Blake, Byron, Shakespeare, Dante, and Kipling.

After pacing around the room and resisting the urge to rifle through Severus’s desk, Miranda started looking for the washroom. There was only one interior door and as she went through it she realized she was in Severus’s bedroom. It was also dark and filled with books. There was a wardrobe on one wall and a four poster bed draped in black and green on another. A third wall held a door that led to a washroom done in dark marble and green mosaic tile. It was scrupulously clean and she again resisted the urge to snoop.

When she emerged from the washroom, she spent a few moments in the bedroom, considering whether or not she should stay. He had not seemed particularly happy to see her. Perhaps she should simply leave his payment on his desk with a note of explanation and cut her losses. While she was contemplating her next course of action, she wandered over to his night table and picked up the book that was sitting on it. It was The Complete Works of Edgar Allan Poe. A slow smile spread across her face and she set the book back on the table. Then she went back out into the sitting room, settled herself into the armchair, and took out her book to wait.

An hour or so later Severus reappeared, carrying a tray for her. She had indeed finished the Cather novel, and had started on The Quibbler. When he saw what she was reading he snorted and said, “That girl is a lunatic.”

“I thought she was rather nice,” Miranda replied. “Don’t you think the tray looks as suspicious as you not showing up for dinner?"

"I went down to the kitchens and returned by another passage," he replied curtly. "The house elves aren't going to tell anyone."

"Thank you. It's kind of you to think of me," she said honestly, taking the tray.

He sat down at the desk and started marking scrolls while he waited for her to finish eating. When she had, he spirited away the empty dishes with a wave of his wand. She reached into her bag and pulled out a package wrapped in brown paper.

"This is for you," she said, depositing it on his desk. She leaned her hip against the desk and tried not to look too eager as he opened it.

The book was thick, old, and bound in dark leather. He raised an eyebrow and opened it carefully. As he perused its contents he realized it was full of spells and directions for potions that he had never seen.

"Where did you get this?" he asked.

"More secret wisdom from the States," she replied with a grin. "And just like the Snakewood, you don't have it. And if someone catches you with it, you didn't get it from me."

Engrossed in the book, he stood and wandered over to his armchair. As he sank into it, Miranda watched him, a pleased expression on her face. Severus read for perhaps twenty minutes before he remembered her presence. When he did, he set the book down on the table next to his chair and gave her the barest hint of a smile.

"Thank you," he said shortly.

"Thank you," she replied simply, looking up from The Quibbler. She set it on his desk, crossed the room to him and took his hand. "I said it before, but I doubt I would still be alive if you hadn't helped me. And considering how I had insulted you on our previous meeting, I appreciate it all the more."

His expression turned sour. "As I recall you were not the only one doing the insulting during that previous meeting," he muttered. Her hand was warm in his and he turned it over, bringing her wrist to his lips. He smirked as he felt her pulse quicken. "I presume you are fully healed from your idiotic scrape with death?"

"None the worse for wear," she answered, her silver eyes glittering in the firelight.

"Good," he drawled, pulling her onto his lap. "Then I can do some damage of my own."

-----------------

Much later, she lay on her stomach on his four-poster bed, practically purring with satisfaction. He lay next to her, idly tracing patterns on her bare back with a long finger and studying her in the candlelight.

"How long can you stay?" he asked quietly.

"I'd say the entire weekend, but I suppose I shouldn't seem too eager," she replied playfully.

"I think you've already expressed your eagerness," he said, his eyes gleaming arrogantly. "I'm surprised you can spare that much time from your usual sport of trying to get yourself killed."

"Oh, I have a case, but I'm taking it slowly."

He arched an eyebrow in question.

"I've been asked to take up the bounty on Sirius Black."

His finger paused on her back and he looked at her sharply. "Who hired you?"

"That's why I'm taking it slowly. Minister Fudge and someone named Lucius Malfoy put me on the job. They approached me about it while I was finishing the vampire case and were very unhappy that I put them off while I tracked the werewolf, especially since it put me out of commission for another month."

"Why are you stalling them?" He had resumed his idle tracing, but his tone sounded serious.

"I don't like Malfoy. He makes the hair on the back my neck stand up on end. I can tell when a job is bad."

"Why did you take it then?" He was beginning to sound angry.

"Malfoy doesn't seem like the sort of fellow you just say no to."

"That is true."

She shrugged, "I've dealt with men like him before."

"I seriously doubt that."

"I see that you know him."

"I do. Tread very carefully around him. He is ruthless, powerful, and extremely well connected."

"I already know all that. I'm starting by investigating him and Minister Fudge. Something seems off about the job, and I’m not going to haul someone in until I know that it's the right thing to do."

"I don't like it."

"I'm an American. They're not going to do anything to me, it would be an international incident. My family knows where I am, I talk to them almost every day. If something happens to me, they will know and they will raise hell."

"I still don't like it."

"Severus, you care. How touching."

"Why aren't you asking me for more information about Malfoy and Black?"

"I try not to mix business and pleasure. During the course of this investigation I may decide to question you officially, but for now I'd rather enjoy you. That's why I haven't been snooping through your rooms or asking you about your business."

"You mean like I am asking you now?"

"You are being rather nosey, but I seem to have less to hide than you do."

"You are a very strange woman."

"You certainly know how to make a lady feel special." Miranda's temper was beginning to flare. She hadn't really meant to tell him quite so much about her business and was irritated with herself. "Look, I can leave if I'm bothering you."

"No." He spoke very slowly, as though savoring each word. "You are going to stay." He turned her onto her back, the better to expose her to his mercilessly clever fingers. "I don't like ordinary women."

------------------------

Severus was sorry to see Miranda go when Monday morning arrived. It was true, he had accomplished almost nothing that weekend with regards to his work, either for his job at Hogwarts or for his two masters; but he had found the time exceedingly well spent. He was, however, a bit disturbed that she was now connected to Malfoy, and this seemed to be on her mind as well.

"So, do we know each other, or not?" she asked, all business. “I didn't mention you in any of my official Ministry reports. Papa knows I had help, but he doesn't know from who and Umbridge doesn't know I was here to see you. I assume Headmaster won't be saying anything, so we can keep our lives totally separate if that seems best.”

He mulled this over in his mind. There was no longer any question that he would be seeing Miranda again, as often as possible. He told himself that it was a calculated risk. She was an outsider, and thus could not call his loyalty to the Dark Lord into question. She was simply a bit of recreation. True, it would perhaps be better if she were pure or even half-blood, but he thought the Dark Lord would only deride him for having common taste in women.

“I don’t think we should print it in The Quibbler,” he answered dryly, "but in the unlikely event that anyone is entitled to know our private business, it would be safer to be honest than to try to invent a story."

"Understood," she nodded. "So, we met the way we met, jumped in the sack together, and have been fucking like bunnies ever since?”

"It sounds so tawdry when you put it that way," he mocked. "I fear for my reputation."

"Your reputation?" she laughed merrily. "I'm the one who's going to bed with some Brit she knows next to nothing about." She kissed him hard. "In fact, I think I started this whole thing."

"You did,” he agreed. "It is, in fact, all your fault. You have no one but yourself to blame." He returned her kiss, his hands roaming freely. "And if you are not in my bed by nine o'clock on Friday evening, I will come looking for you."

"Speaking of," she murmured, "Headmaster said to tell you to show me the staff entrance."

"Meddlesome wizard," he muttered. "Give me your wand.” When she complied, he used it to unlock and lock the door of his sitting room. Handing it back to her, he explained, "Now you will be able to unlock this door. When you come, take yourself straight to the bedroom and don't get caught."

He showed her to the private entrance to his dungeon and gave her the password--"Lily." She raised an eyebrow at this, but didn't ask any questions.

"Until Friday," she said, and ducked out into the morning sun.

------------------------------

Moonlight Masterpost+

<< Chapter Six+

Chapter Eight+ >>

[hurtcomfortetc]

I was thinking the apocalypse timeline, if that's okay! :) and omg thank you for sending me your fic, I'm so amped to read it!

Original Prompt - vaguely-- 

“since you’re looking for TUA prompts” how about Klaus with pneumonia? the others keep joking about how he needs to quite smoking and shit (and telling him to stop whining when he says he’s not good to go with them on some kind of wild adventure”

Okay, so this was a fun one to write! Hope this was in the realm of what you were looking for! :)

MONDAY(28 days sober)

Klauscan hear the distant sound of glass shattering and what might be abookshelf falling down. The sound surprises him, and he sits up soabruptly that he gives himself a head rush, and a splash of watersluices over onto the tile floor. He sits there, listening for yellsof anguish or gunfire. All he hears for the next minute is the faintcongestion in his breath.

“Vanya-it's okay – look we don't have to stop for today-”

Adoor slams.

Klausrelaxes.  

Heslides his head back under water and goes back to wondering if thisis the normal congestion he's had on and off since his cocaine phasein 2012, or if he's just getting sick.

Thenhe starts craving cocaine again.

Hedebates, for the hundredth time maybe, if Sober Klaus still smokesweed.

“Klaus,you better not have fallen asleep in there!”

TUESDAY(29 days sober)

Klauscreaks open his eyes to a blinding light and a grating voice comingfrom the other side of his door. His eyes manage to come to a focuson his clock. 1:30. Klaus is faintly pleased. It's much easier tostay sober when you're unconscious for most of the day. And he's soclose to actually deserving that thirty day chip.

Thebanging doesn't stop.

“Klaus!It's your turn with Five and Vanya today – please get your ass downhere so he'll get off my ass?” Diego calls, and continues bangingon the door.

Fiveis relentless, Klaus muses. He proceeds to remain unmoving on hisbed.

“Yougonna keep moping in here forever?” Ben asks from somewhere in thecorning of the room.

Klauslets out a loud groan that he draws out for almost twenty seconds.Ben covers his ears after ten, but Klaus has to stop and let out ashort cough before he can make it to a grand finale. Gross.

“Seriously?”Ben asks. Klaus peels himself off his bed and does a quick smell testof his underarms.

“Shhhh-I need to focus on finding a clean shirt so I can go make sure Vanyadoesn't end up murdering my second least favorite brother,” Klaussays. His voice comes out rough. Ben, for his part, looks appeased.

WEDNESDAY(30 days sober)

It'sbeen a good day.  He completed an entire arm wrestling match with atangible Ben (turns out that that in death Ben must have somehowdeveloped killer bicep muscles, but no one needs to know how thatparticular match ended) and, invigorated by his sobriety milestone,Klaus dragged himself out of bed before noon and made eggs foreveryone (they burned remarkably quickly, but Allison did eat a pieceof toast he buttered so overall a win).

Butnow it's almost dinner time, and all he can do is lay bonelessly onthe couch and listen to his siblings bicker over one of Luther's“mandatory debriefs.”

“Theday of the apocalypse is over, can't we all stop treating Vanya likea ticking time bomb?” Allison demands.

“Yousaw what she almost did to Diego a couple of days ago, we can't stopworking on this,” Luther fires back.

“Guys,I'm right here, can you just stop,” Vanya adds. There's an awkwardsilence.

“Istill don't know if the math is right, everyone. Look, the best guessis to keep trying at -”

Therest of the conversation is lost to Klaus, who feels something inhimself snap. He hastily lights a cigarette. His siblings cyclicalnonsense arguments give him a craving for nicotine that simply willnot be ignored. He takes a long drag and then feels something catchnauseatingly in the back of his throat. He sits up and coughs untilsomething slimy seems to dislodge.

Hegoes to try another inhale when he sees that everyone is looking athim. He thumps his chest for dramatic effect.

“Smokingkills, kids,” he announces, and waves a finger at his siblings,accosting. Diego rolls his eyes.

“Keepthat up and you're gonna get an iron lung before you're forty,”Diego says.

“Andwhat a thrill that would be,” Klaus retorts. The bickering carrieson after that, and he spends the rest of it tuning out his siblingsand attempting valiantly not to cough.

Hedrags his way out of the room during a longer pause. In the doorway,Allison grabs his arm and slaps something into his palm. It lookslike a bandaid, and Klaus' brain cannot produce what it is.

“Nicotinepatch. I thought you were cleaning up. It might help,” Allisonsays.

“I'llhave to change my shirt. This beige will clash hideously,” Klausreplies.

“Iordered Chinese for tonight– come down later?” Allison asks himas he continues out.

Hethrows a grateful wave behind him.

Hespends the rest of the night alternately chain smoking and hackinguntil his chest is sore.

THURSDAY(31 days sober)

Today,Klaus starts to wonder distantly if there is something wrong with hisimmune system. This cold just doesn't want to go away.

It'sa nice distraction, he supposes.

FRIDAY(32 days sober)

Klaushas just completed almost entirely turning over his room in order tofind the one sketch pad that he'd stashed away years ago. He used toget high and doodle bats and shit during his goth phase.  “Get ahobby” was something they tell you a lot in rehab.

Ithelps that, honestly, Klaus has no energy to do anything but scribbleabsently today. The mere act of searching through his closet justleft him with a racing heart and feeling out of breath. It isactually nice, in a way. The lethargy makes it very easy to settleinto a blanket puddle on the floor with and feel content to scratchout nonsense pictures with a pencil.

Benisn't anywhere to be seen for some reason, and Klaus actually feelslonely.

Ashadow appears looming over him. He looks up to see Five leaning inhis doorway.

“Getup. We're going on a field trip,” Five announces.

“Pass,”Klaus groans.

“Notasking. What, you'd rather laze around here all day?”

Klausdraws his blanket closer around him by way of answer.

Fivegrits his teeth and looks away. His foot is honest-to-god tapping.

“Getup. We need your help. We're gonna let Vanya loose today, and we needall hands on deck,” Five finally explains. Klaus sits up and giveshim an incredulous look.

“DidVanya okay this?” He asks. Five looks at Klaus like he's a cat thathe's trying to coax out of a bush.

“Ofcourse.” Klaus wonders why he bothered asking, his answer trulydoesn't inspire confidence.

“Andhow do you expect me to be of any use?” Klaus asks. On any otherday, he would bask in any remote bit of confidence in his ability,but today the concept of standing up for more than a minute is makinghim dizzy.

“Iseem to recall that you can summon Ben's ghost from the dead, amongothers. Dead people are great collateral if something goes sideways,”Five says.

“Um,great idea, but here's the thing – I can't -ahem- get it up all thetime. Apparently it's more common among mediums than you might think– one in ten!” Klaus says, praying that Five will drop it. Fivelooks at him like he's contemplating murder.

“Look,do you want me to get Luther to come persuade you?” Five threatens.

Klausraises his hands in surrender.

“Uncle,uncle! Christ, let's just get this over with,” he sighs. On the wayout, he grabs his most obnoxious faux fur jacket, partially as a lamegesture of rebellion and partially because he's utterly freezing.

“That'sthe spirit,” Five mutters, and leads the way.

----------

Fiveglanced into the rearview mirror of the car. With Luther crammed intothe passenger seat the atmosphere already feels oppressive enough,but a glimpse into the backseat reveals Vanya nervously perched inthe middle seat, Diego sitting cross-armed and surly on the right,and Klaus completely passed out on the left. The car is packed andradiating nervous energy.

Five eases the car down the bumpy dirt path, the final sign that theyare clear away from civilization. That creep Leonard really had theright idea about a remote cabin in the woods. Plenty of isolation andtrees to practice on. So lacking in human contact is this particularcabin that the unkept foliage lining the path creeps towards theroad, untamed and leaning. The cabin itself is barely a thread awayfrom losing any structural integrity. The windows have maybe threeunbroken panes of glass between them. It's perfect.

Fivebrakes violently, and winces when Klaus' forehead makes a audiblewhack on the window as he smacks himself out of his nap. Not the mostgraceful awakening, but effective. He wants everyone alert.

“Alrighteverybody. Follow me,” he says. He steps out of the car and towardsthe back of the cabin, where he has prepared a paper target on a treeabout fifty feet from the small clearing. It's visible, but wellsurrounded by other trees.

“Diego,wanna demo?” Five asks. Diego furrows his brow, but never turns upan opportunity to throw something sharp. He takes one look at themark and pegs the center ring with a hasty flick of his wrist.

“Doyou expect me to do that? That's not exactly in my wheelhouse, Five,”says Vanya, squinting at the target and looking like she'd rather beanywhere than here.

Fivetakes a handful of loose bullets out of his pocket, and places themon a tree stump.

“Woah,”interjects Luther, “we're not expecting Vanya to have to shootpeople-”

“Ofcourse not,” Five grits out. He expected this, but it doesn't makeit any less tiresome. “This is just an exercise in precision andcontrol.” Vanya looks at him, wary, but she picks up one of thelittle silver ovals and turns it around in her fingertips.

---

Ittakes the better part of an hour before Vanya manages to drill a holedirectly into the target. It's a bit left of center, but by thatpoint, Diego and Luther have finally relaxed an inch of tension outof their shoulders. Vanya is a quick study, and actually pulls asmile when the little tap of the bullet making contact sounds throughthe forest.

Klaus,for his part, has been lounging like the Queen of Sheba on a softpile of pine needles. His eyes seem out of focus, but he claps whenVanya succeeds.  

“Whooooo,you show that tree who's boss,” he calls. Vanya smiles again. Fivewonders if Klaus might have been more of a liability than anything,considering how spacey he seems for all his apparent sobriety, but ifanything it makes Vanya more relaxed when he yells out some stupidline of encouragement than if it had just been Tweedledee andTweedledum trading constipated looks and flinching every time a twigsnapped.

Fiveis contemplating dragging one more round out of Vanya when Klaus sitsup suddenly at attention.

“Woah,Vanya that's kind of creepy,” Klaus says, looking at something inthe distance. Five walks over to Klaus as he stands up, clearlyalarmed. There are goosebumps running down his arms.

“Whatare you talking about, Klaus?” Five asks, quietly. He doesn't wanta scene.

“Theway she's moving the branches of the trees like that. They're gettingall twisty. I mean it's tasteful but definitely a touch odd, wouldn'tyou say?” Five doesn't know why he looks over to see what Klaus istalking about, but he does. There isn't so much as a light breezerustling the branches.

Suddenly,Five realizes what must be going on and he's furious.

“Jesus,Klaus what are you playing at? Whatever you're tripping on is notworth risking this entire training session,” Five spits. Diegoperks up at that.

“Ithought you were going sober, man,” he says, looking at themsearchingly. Klaus, pale and sweating, does not look like thatbenchmark for clean living.

Klausdoesn't seem to notice, and continues looking at the forest, eyesfollowing something unseen.

“Unbelievable,”Five turns away, taking ten paces and breathing through his nose.

“Klaus,it's okay – I'm not doing anything,” Vanya says. She walkshesitantly towards Klaus, eyes wide and sympathetic.

“Leaveit, Vanya,” Luther cautions. Vanya reaches out a hand on Klaus'sforearm, to try to get his attention. Klaus clears his throatthickly, and coughs a bit into his fist.

“Don'tworry, Vanya- I like it, very pretty,” he says. Vanya's eyes widen.

“Guys,his skin's on fire,” she says. “Klaus, are you okay?” Shereaches a hand up his cheek, which is also burning. He doesn'tanswer, just shivers convulsively.

“Couldit be an overdose?” Luther strides over to them. Diego stiffens.

“Doesn'tseem like it to me,” Diego says. “Doesn't present the way itusually does with whatever garbage he's on.” Five's mind feelsblank.

“I'llstart the car. We have to get him out of here,” he says.

“Ithink he's just sick,” Vanya says. “He's been sounding reallyrough all week, hasn't he?”

“Shit,”says Diego. He moves to pull gently at Klaus' arm to lead him to thecar. Five takes the lead and starts for the front of the cabin.

“Wow,you can make the ground all spinny. That's a cool trick,” Klaustells Vanya. At that, Diego loops one of Klaus's arms around hisshoulder, and they start to haltingly follow after Five.

“Let'sgo, Klaus,” he says. As they make a shaky path towards the car,Five throws the passenger door open for them to slide in. They do,and it's now imminently obvious just how out of it Klaus is. Hemanages to maneuver into the passenger seat shakily, and immediatelyburies his head in his hands.

Fivewastes no time turning on the ignition and sloppily reversing thecar. He narrowly avoids bottoming out in a muddy patch. The car digsout and he slams on the acceleration as quickly as the dirt path willallow.

“Doesanyone have any water or anything?” Luther asks, and Five isdecently impressed that it's actually not a bad idea. There isrustling from the backseat as they all turn over the car searchingfor any provisions that will last them the entire ride back towardscivilization.

“Here,”Vanya finds a water bottle strewn somewhere beneath the seatcushions.

“That'sfor you,” Diego passes it to Klaus, who removes one eye from behindhis hand to look at it like it's a bomb. “I swear to god, Klaus,just take it,” Diego warns. Klaus extends a shaking hand andaccepts it. He takes a tentative sip, and then grimaces. That setshim off, coughing deeply. For each second he continues seeminglyhacking up a lung, Five's foot presses deeper into the acceleration.When he finally stops, Five meets eyes with Diego in the rearviewmirror. Diego looks panicked, and that's not a look Five is used toseeing.

“Jesus,Klaus, where's that stupid ass coat of yours?” Diego asks. “You'reshaking like a leaf.”

“Igrabbed it,” says Vanya.

“Wait-maybe we should try to keep him cool? Right?” Luther interjects.

“Idon't know- do I look like I went to fucking medical school?” Diegoasks, shooting a murderous look at Luther.

“Damn,how long has he been like this sick?” Luther asks no one inparticular.

“Ugh,right here,” Klaus says, breathlessly. “You should ask Ben, he'dknow.”

Diegothrows up his hands.

“Helpful!”

Suddenly,the car lights up a bright blue and Ben appears crammed betweenLuther and Five, crouched awkwardly on the dashboard.

Five,thrown for a loop, swerves the wheel and almost careens off the road.

“Woah-Five, get it together!” Luther calls. Ben grabs the wheel and pullsthem back on into their lane just in time to avoid hitting a tree.

“Nice,thanks,” Five breaths.

“Ben,”Luther said, dumbstruck.

“Toanswer your question, he's been out of it for a couple of days. Ithink that's why he couldn't see me anymore,” Ben says. Lutherseems unable to process the information, his mouth still gaping open.Ben rolls his eyes.

“I'mjust saying, please can you find some kind of medical professional?Like, ASAP?”

“Nooooo,”Klaus murmers through his hands.

“Klaus,”say Five, Luther and Diego almost simultaneously, all in some variouscombination of desperate frustration and warning.

Vanyareaches over and put a hand on his knee.

“Ithink what they mean is that it's not a debate. You're going to see adoctor.”

[avani008]

@worddiva179 wanted Devasena, modern AU --and so, a prequel of sorts to the coffeeshop story....

Before long, it passes into Varma family lore: how Devasena, headstrong as ever, had bided in Mother’s womb first one day, then two, then a week longer than she was due. Not until Mother broke free of her bed rest, and went for a walk down to the lake, reaching down to pick up a stray swan feather from the water would Devasena be born: and with that blessing did she take her first breath.

Devasena is not so silly as Jay, to actually believe Mother’s story. The facts of the matter seem perfectly clear to her: Mother had exerted herself enough to go into labor at last, no more and no less. 

Still. Father stores the feather in a special box, locked safely away in the best wardrobe. Once a year, on her birthday, Devasena is allowed to take it out and run her fingers against its firm, unyielding edge. 

At eleven, Devasena is minding her own business in the park when a swan accosts her, striding out of the water with its wings stiffly spread, looking like nothing so much as a soldier standing at attention. Its black, beady eyes are fixed on her; its gait rapid.

“Bugger,” Devasena says--the very worst word she knows--and begins to scramble backwards up the hill without quite daring to look away. That turns out to be a mistake, as she only stumbles over a root to stare up at the advancing bird, certain this will be the end of her.

But the swan only rests its wings on either shoulder, in solemn greeting, and does not at all seem inclined to tear her apart; that achieved, it waddles back into the waters.

“You look too pale,” Jay tells her later. “Won’t people talk if you don’t cheer up before the wedding?”

“And you look ridiculous,” Devasena retorts, residual nerves making her irritable. “Will Anni marry you if you don’t shave off that beard?”

The ensuing argument is enough to make him forget her appearance entirely; but not enough by far to make Devasena forget what happened.

Nothing so strange happens until Devasena’s last year in secondary school (an awkward age, all things considered; bangs and other regrettable decisions are made.) She’s in the middle of a fistfight--not her first or last or even her best (that honor goes to the time she defends the shop from a burglar with only a kettle of hot water, a high-heeled shoe, and a plate of day-old biryani) but certainly the one she wants most to win. She does not fight to defend her honor, after all, but Kumar’s.

It is unfortunate, therefore, that her opponent is twice her size and, despite all Devasena’s skill, dangerously close to defeating her. 

A trumpet echoes from the sky--a terrible, unearthly noise. Everyone else turns to look, save Devasena, who thinks it sounds rather ordinary and so takes the opportunity to knock her distracted opponent down. 

“A swan!” Kumar crows to her afterwards. “I saw it!”

“A goose, maybe,” Devasena replies loftily, armed with multiple articles on the subject. “Swans aren’t native to this part of India.”

Kumar sets his lips in a frown. “A zoo,” he decides at last. “Perhaps it escaped from a zoo.”

Devasena shrugs, too tired for yet another fight. Let him think what he will.

She is late for work, and the last thing she needs is a police barrier blocking the streets and redirecting her on . But what else can they do, when a rare bird has wandered into the path of danger?

“Swans,” she overhears, and grits her teeth. Bugger is no longer the worst word she knows, and yet she mutters it and a number of other interesting utterances under her breath all along her way. 

By the time she enters Kuntala and Family, she is in a ferocious mood. Exam tomorrow or no exam tomorrow, she’ll have to take the late shift to make up for her tardiness. Of all the dreadful luck! To her relief, the shop is very nearly empty: a crowd of students to one side, a family of tourists on the other, and, in the far corner, one old man and one young one at a table all their own.

“They’ve been there for hours,” Akhila whispers. “I wonder how long they’ll stay?”

Ten o’clock, Devasena promises grimly. If I find them still here by ten o’clock, I’ll send them packing myself. 

The interference is not so surprising after all. Archery might have left Devasena behind, even the throne might have forsaken her, but the swan of Kuntala never shall.

[worryinglyinnocent]

Not So Secret, A Monthly Rumbelling Fic

Rated: T

Prompt: “You have a lot of nerve saying ‘hello’ like nothing happened!”

Summary: Belle’s friends are rather put out to find that she’s been dating someone without their knowledge. Belle doesn’t care.

Word Count: 2113

=====

Not So Secret

“You have a lot of nerve saying ‘hello’ like nothing happened!”

Belle blinked at Ruby’s vehement statement. All she had done was come into the diner and sit down in her usual booth, and suddenly she had been accosted by Ruby and Ariel sliding into the booth opposite her and fixing her with somewhat ferocious expressions, to which she had greeted them with a simple ‘hello’. Apparently, that had been the wrong thing to say.

“I’m not quite sure what I’ve done to deserve your wrath, but I’m very sorry for whatever it is.”

“We saw you!” Ruby exploded, gesturing wildly towards the door and almost knocking a plate of waffles out of Ashley’s hand as the other waitress brought an order to the next booth.

“You saw me doing what?” Belle asked.

“Gold!” Ariel said. At least Ariel’s face was beginning to look more excited and fascinated than angry, but Ruby still looked as if she wanted to set a pack of wild dogs on her friend. Or perhaps set a pack of wild dogs on Gold. Or maybe both. At least that explained what they had seen her doing. She had assumed that the back of Gold’s shop would have afforded them some measure of privacy.

“I can assure you that I have never done Mr Gold in my life,” Belle said primly. “Our relationship is entirely non-carnal.”

“Yes, for the moment,” Ruby said. “But you can’t tell me that you weren’t thinking about it when you were sucking his face off!”

“Ruby!” Ariel smacked her friend’s arm. “What Ruby is trying to say is that why didn’t you tell us that you were seeing him?”

“Well… It’s kind of a new thing,” Belle said weakly, the force of Ruby’s glare weakening her resolve. “I don’t see why you’re so upset about this. You were the one who told me I needed  to get back in the dating game after Gaston.”

“Yes, but not with Gold!” Ruby exclaimed. “I meant with someone, you know, nice. And slightly closer to your own age! What about Will? He’s lovely, and you spend a lot of time with him!”

“He’s also got a girlfriend,” Belle pointed out.

“Keith?”

“He’s tried to grab my ass on at least ten separate occasions.”

“And mine,” Ariel mused. “And yours,” she added to Ruby.

“He’d still be better than Gold!”

Belle raised an eyebrow. “Really? The serial sleaze who’s one grope away from an assault charge at any time is better than the perfectly respectable pawnbroker? You’re not setting the bar for my lovelife very high here, Ruby.”

“Well, you will go and kiss the terror of the town!” Ruby gave a long sigh and her fearsome expression faded. “I just don’t want you to get hurt, Belle. You know what he’s like.”

“Yes, I do,” Belle countered. “I know he’s smart, and he makes me smile and laugh, and that there’s an awful lot more to him than you think. And I know that he would never hurt me.” She paused. “Your concern is touching but… worryingly exuberant. I know what I’m doing, Ruby. I know who he is. You’ve got to trust me on this. He’s a good man, beneath what the rest of the town sees.”

Ruby frowned. “The last time I trusted you with your own dating experiences you ended up with Gaston.”

“It sounds like you’re blaming my lack of judgment for the fact he turned out to be a cheating bastard,” Belle said coolly.

“I don’t mean it like that!”

“Then trust me on Gold!”

Her voice had become a little louder than she had realised, and she noticed that the entire diner was now looking at her with morbid fascination.

“Ok, ok, nothing to see here,” Ruby said, entirely unconvincingly, waving the other patrons back to their meals. Although there were no longer several pairs of eyes fixed on her, one could still have heard a pin drop. Ruby rolled her eyes and leaned in close, her voice barely above a whisper.

“All right. I’ll trust you on Gold. But the minute you need me, just say the word and I’ll lock him in the freezer until he begs for mercy.”

“I’m sure that won’t be necessary, Ruby.”

“Nevertheless, the offer will remain open.”

“Ruby, do you maybe understand now why I didn’t tell you, since I knew that this was the reaction you were going to have?”

Ruby considered this point for a moment and narrowed her eyes, but refused to concede it, saying that her break was over and getting up from the booth to go back to her shift. As soon as Ruby had left, Ariel shuffled up on the seat so that she was directly opposite Belle and broke into a grin.

“So, tell me everything!”

“There’s nothing to tell, Ariel.”

“Oh come on! You can’t just drop the bombshell on us that you’re dating Gold and then not divulge any of the details. How long has this been going on? How did it start? When are you seeing him again?” She dropped her voice to a dramatic whisper. “Is he a good kisser?”

“Ariel, two minutes ago you were furious that I was seeing the guy and now you want all the juicy gossip?”

“No, Ruby was furious that you were seeing him. I was furious that you hadn’t told me you were seeing him because that meant I was missing out on all the juicy gossip.” She steepled her fingers and leaned in close. “So… spill.”

Belle shrugged. “There’s nothing to tell. We’re dating, that’s all.”

“What do you mean nothing to tell! He’s the most inscrutable and mysterious man in town! I knew you were sort of friends with him but there’s a big difference between polite conversation and what you were doing! And you’re now intimately acquainted with the back room of his shop where no-one ever goes!”

Once again, the entire diner looked over at the booth, and Belle groaned, resting her head against the table to avoid the stares from the other patrons.

“Oh, that wasn’t a euphemism,” Ariel called to the diner. “I just mean she’s seen the back room. Not like, done things in it. Although you were kissing him in it and…”

“Ariel…” Belle said without removing her forehead from the formica, “just stop.”

“Ok. But you’ve got to give me some more information to work with here, Belle. You don’t just go from not dating a guy to dating a guy - and a guy like Gold to boot - without there being a story to tell behind it. You didn’t just wake up one day and say ‘right, me and Mr Gold are dating now’.”

“Would it shut you up if I said that was what had happened?” Belle finally sat up again and gave Ariel a pleading look. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Gold enter the diner, right on time for the date that they had set up, and she smiled. Gold met her eyes and returned the expression, but the soft smile turned into something of a smirk when he saw that Ariel was sitting Belle, her back to him, and he began to make his way towards the two women.

“Of course not!” Ariel said, oblivious to Gold coming up behind her. “I need to know everything! Nobody knows anything about him and these things are important!”

“Mr Gold’s kissing ability is important?”

“Yes! Is he the kind who goes in kind of softly and slowly or does he just, you know, go for it.” She paused. “You know what they say about guys with noses like his though,” she added with a conspiratorial wink.

“Really, Miss Del Mar? What do they say about guys with noses like mine?”

Ariel’s face paled as she turned around comically slowly to see Gold standing behind her, then whirled back round to Belle. “You could have told me he was standing right there!”

“I could have done, but the look on your face was priceless.”

Ariel’s eyes narrowed and she glanced from Belle to Gold and back again.

“You know, I’m beginning to think he might be a bad influence on you after all,” she muttered, sliding out of the booth to let Gold sit down. Over behind the counter, Ruby scowled at them, waving a pair of tongs threateningly in Gold’s direction.

He simply raised an eyebrow at her and returned his attention to Belle. “May I ask what that was about?”

“Ruby and Ariel saw us in the pawn shop yesterday,” Belle said, cringing internally a little. “Ruby’s offered to lock you in the freezer and Ariel wanted all the details.”

“I see.” Gold seemed to consider this for a moment before shrugging. “Well, I suppose that those are the reactions I would expect when our status became public,” he said. “We’ve certainly garnered the attention of everyone else in the diner.

True enough, all of the other patrons were still staring at them.

“Actually I think that’s more to do with Ariel and my discussion before you arrived.” Belle looked a little sheepish. “She was trying to convince everyone that she had not been talking about me and you getting up to no good in the back of the shop and just ended up digging herself into a hole in the process. Everyone probably thinks that we’re practicing all kinds of strange kinks in there. I’m so sorry.”

Gold just gave a snort of amused laughter. “Don’t worry about it. I think if we’re going to continue this then we’re going to have to get used to the incredulity of the town.”

“Yes.” It wasn’t a thought that Belle was particularly looking forward to, but she knew that she needed to get used to it and that people’s opinions of Gold, like Ruby’s, would not change overnight. She had known that when she had first made the decision to act upon her feelings towards him, and how she couldn’t regret it. She had Gold after all, and that made up for all of the strange looks that she might have got. Their friendship had always been dear to her, even if none of the other townsfolk seemed to have noticed it until Ariel and Ruby’s untimely eavesdropping. That she had taken that first step towards being more than friends still amazed her, and that Gold had returned her attraction even more so. He had been so supportive in the wake of her break-up from Gaston, and in time, that had developed into something more.

“What can I get you two then?” Ruby asked, coming over with notepad in hand and her brightest smile, obviously trying not to embarrass Belle by being rude to her date in front of her.

Belle gave her order and Ruby turned to Gold.

“My usual please, Miss Lucas. And I’ll take extra ice in the ice tea.”

Ruby’s expression dropped into a scowl for a moment before she beamed at him and made her way back to the counter.

“She’s probably going to ‘accidentally’ drop that ice tea in your lap, you know,” Belle said.

“It’s a risk I was perfectly willing to take to see the look on her face,” Gold replied, his voice utterly benign but his expression devilish. He walked a fine line sometimes in the way he acted, but Belle knew that when it came to her friends he would never push his luck, even if Ruby was being particularly trying. He looked around at the diner, and the other customers quickly turned back to their own plates and tried to look like they were not hanging on every word that was said.

“Shall we give them something to talk about, since they’re so determined to catch some gossip?” Gold asked.

Belle smiled and nodded. Since their relationship had ended up going public anyway, they might as well make the most of it. She got up and moved to sit on the same side of the booth as Gold, he slid further in to make room for her and she settled herself primly beside him before grabbing his tie and pulling him in for a deep kiss. He seemed a little surprised by her sudden passion, but relaxed into the kiss quickly, his arms coming around her back to pull her in closer.

Around them, Belle could hear the diner going quiet again, and the smash and clatter of two glasses of ice tea ending up on the floor as Ruby dropped them.

Belle just smiled to herself as she finally let Gold come up for air. Let them stare.

[psykertroll-blog]

Que Sera Sera

FFN AO3

Summary Ch 2 Ch 3

Chapter 1 - Remember Then

Tython Jedi Temple, 3642 BBY

Arthur hated younglings.

He hated the way they would run around the temple, tripping everyone up in their path. He hated their smarmy, impertinent questions, and the way they would poke and prod and pester at everything there was to see. He hated their annoyingly loud voices, their painful arrogance, and their naive optimism.

All this was true, and more. Even with the bright, peaceful air of Tython easing into his skin, Arthur was in a sour, bitter mood the very moment he stepped off his ship three hours ago.

The Jedi grumpily shuffled down the hallways, glaring balefully at any who passed him by. He was heading straight for the archives, as he was on assignment to study strange phenomena in the Force. This planet was filled with it, and while normally he would have been ecstatic to come to such an ancient place, today was an exception.

It was eleven years to this day that the Sacking of Coruscant took place. Eleven years since his former apprentice betrayed him.

Arthur had thought that Alfred was dead for a year, only to find him standing there, mask slashed open by his lightsaber…

Alfred’s once-blue eyes gleamed yellow in the hazy smoke. His voice was crooning, and full of treacherous affection as he spoke, “Master… are you pleased to see me?”

No. He shouldn’t think of it. He shouldn’t even meditate on it. It was too evil a thought to continue. In either case, the Alfred he knew had faded away long ago, and the Sith mockery in his place had no right to occupy his mind.

Arthur shrugged off his memories, and took another step forward. Unfortunately, it was right in the way of the frog.

“Ohonhonhon! Well, if it isn’t my old friend! Why don’t you come give big brother a hug, hmm?”

Ah yes. As if he didn’t already have enough trouble, Francis was here to ruin the rest of his day. Perfect.

Arthur scowled deeply, causing his eyebrows to scrunch together. “You’re not my brother, frog. Get out of my way. Unlike you, I have work to do.”

In the face of Arthur’s dour expression, Francis only became more emboldened. “Why must you be so rude, Arthur? I haven’t seen you in forever-” He slung his arm around Arthur’s shoulders.

“It’s been two weeks since you last accosted me-” Arthur fumed, struggling to escape the frog’s grip.

Francis ignored his fury, “-and I only wish you gift you with my handsome presence. Is that not what a good friend should do?”

“Frog. If you don’t cease your invasion of my personal space, I will do it for you.” Arthur ground his teeth, but Francis only tightened his embrace.

“Ah, but Arthur, I worry for you, you know? You are much ruder than you usually are. Is it your ugliness? Do not be saddened by this, my friend. I know it is upsetting for you, but not everyone can be as pretty as I!”

Francis stuck his nose high in the air, and his nasal laughter rang down the halls. Five seconds later, he was violently shoved off of Arthur.

“Shut up! You are being entirely undignified! Jedi are meant to be self composed, and yet you throw yourself around as if it is no concern of yours! In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised to find you running naked in the temple. No more, I say, no more! Now you leave me be, you hear?”

Still laughing, Francis waved him away. “Yes, yes, I hear you clearly, Arthur. You wish to cocoon yourself in the archives, when it is such a magnificent day-”

Arthur was inches away from murdering the frog right here and now. “I came here on assignment. The call was straight from the Jedi Council. You are stopping me from finishing what I was sent here to do. I suggest you end it-”

“Oh please, I am no fool Arthur. Don’t treat this as a chore. You usually enjoy it here on Tython. The only reason why you are so disagreeable is because it’s that day again. I really don’t see why you obsess over it so, you and I both know that Alf-”

Immediately, Arthur loomed ominously over Francis. His teasing voice squeaked into nothingness as Arthur’s green eyes bored into his head.

“Do not speak of him.”  

At once, Arthur stalked imperiously down the hallway, leaving behind a bewildered frog in his wake.

A few hours later, Tython’s star had long since sunk beneath the horizon, and night brought with it unwanted visions of the past.

He was slaving away down in the archives into the wee hours of the morning, only for him to be promptly kicked out by the supervising droid.

This forced him to wander around the outskirts of the temple, as he didn’t want to go back to his quarters. All the same, the peaceful feeling of the place at that moment calmed him from his agitation.

Arthur remembered many nights like this on Coruscant. The sky was blotted out from the city lights, yet the temple there had much of the same atmosphere.

After a long day of training, he and Alfred would sit by the balcony, going over everything that they needed to work on. It was a time of war, and yet Alfred, who was barely ten years of age then, looked at him with bright, pure blue eyes.

 "Master, Master, when can I start using a lightsaber? They’re so cool! I wanna use one of the ones with the dual blades, they’re called saberstaffs, right?“ His apprentice bounced up and down in his seat. "Anyways, it would be so awesome-”

 Arthur tutted, “Now, now, Alfred, using a lightsaber is a skill that takes many years to develop. Judging by your performance today, I dare say that you haven’t even fully mastered the practice sword, which is but a pinch compared to the saberstaff.”

 Alfred groaned in defeat, “Aww, but that’s so boring! I must have gone over that stupid kata a thousand times over, and you still say it’s not ‘perfect’?”

 Arthur crossed his arms, but his stern countenance was a poor disguise for his amusement. “It is not just a 'stupid kata’, as you call it. Shii-Cho and The Way of the Sarlacc is the primary form of battle. Every Jedi must learn to master it, you know this. Besides, fighting is not all that a Jedi does. We are as much philosophers as we are warriors, Alfred, and it is high time for you to learn this as well. Calm you mind, and meditate on the Code.”

 "Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know, Master. I just want to stop being so useless. All I do is sit around and train, while everyone else is fighting the Sith!“ Alfred stared at the ground, fiddling with the hem of his robe.

 "Training is the most useful thing you can do right at this moment, my apprentice. Do not rush it, or you will truly be of no help to anyone, most of all yourself.” At that, Arthur placed his hand under Alfred’s chin, forcing him to look into his eyes…

 His shadowy, tainted yellow eyes-

He desperately gasped for air, clawing his way out of his torturous memories, “P-Please.” Arthur slid down against the wall, clutching at his head. “I- I don’t want to remember-”

The tall buildings of Coruscant blotted out the night, but instead of city lights, it was blooming pillars of fire burning a wound into the sky.

Two blades struck against each other again and again, one green, the other red. Sith and Jedi, Darkness and Light, both fought with all their might in this never-ending duel of the fates.

Yet, the balance was tipped in the Sith’s favor. The Jedi was eventually brought down to his knees on the balcony floor, and the Sith stood triumphantly over him, pressing his saberstaff into the Jedi’s cheek.

“A-Alfred… wh-why…? Why won’t you kill me? Everyone else is already dead, why am I still alive?” The Jedi croaked, his voice rendered to ash in his grief.

The Sith bent down to his level, gently caressing the left side of the Jedi’s face as he seared the right. The mix of harsh, burning pain and the light touch of the Sith’s hand only made it all the more worse for the Jedi.

“My dear, dear Master… shouldn’t you already know?”

Confused, the Jedi blearily gazed into yellow eyes. The Force had abandoned him, the temple was destroyed, Coruscant invaded, and his apprentice, his dear, dear apprentice who he had mourned over, was a Sith. He was a failure, a complete and utter failure, and he deserved to die for failing the man before him. The Jedi was tired, and waited for death’s inevitable sweet kiss, but it never came.

“Alfred… You have won. My time has come… Stop dragging this out and get it over with- mmph!”

The Sith’s face came closer with every breath. There was a sick gleam in his eyes. At first glance, one would say that it was satisfaction at the defeat of the Jedi. However, if one were to look deeper, the gleam would seem to be of an opposite nature. It was unhinged, yes, but the sight was born of a demented devotion, a mad love that would not cease.

Instead of death, the Jedi’s kiss was stolen by the Sith’s devouring tongue. It twisted and fought with his own, and the Sith’s teeth tore harshly into the Jedi’s mouth. The battle lasted for a scant few seconds, and ended with the Sith breathing heavily over the Jedi, who was shoved to the ground in the frenzy. The saberblade now was pressed into the Jedi’s neck, and the Sith’s right hand cupped the scar left behind on the cheek, manically rubbing back and forth.

“Don’t you see? Don’t you feel it? Search the Force, you know it to be true. I love you, Arthur. I always have and I always will.”

“I- No! Stop it! Stop it now!”

Arthur struggled to wipe the vision out of his mind, but a presence at the other end of the dream soon pressed back in full force.

Yellow eyes on Korriban clung to Arthur, staking it’s claim as it clawed it’s way forth.