#A/N: bonus points to anyone who knows what novel reader is reading

[raz-writes-the-thing]

Names A Plenty (Bad Samaritan Drabble)

Cale Erendreich x GN!Reader / requests are open

Summary: Cale wants to know why you have a book of baby names

CW: It's Cale

Bad Samaritan Tag List: (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

___ ___ ___ ___ ___

“What is this?” 

You’re engrossed in a particularly harrowing part of the novel you’re reading and don’t really notice the question at first. An idiot is pointing a gun at a beloved fan favourite character, and Jesus Christ- this cannot be happening- 

The book is ripped from your hands before you have time to read how that particular scenario was going to end (and maybe that was a good thing). You look up at Cale, eyes wide in surprise, though the frustration creeps into your expression the longer you look at him and not your novel. 

Cale doesn’t blink at your expression, and instead, deposits another book into your hand. You grunt, hoping Cale doesn’t lose your spot. He won’t though, of course. You don’t see his thumb stuck between the pages to keep your placement. He wants you focused on the book he’s given you, not the one you were reading. 

The book he has deposited in your hands is a baby name book. An old thing that you used to go through quite a lot, actually. Cale gestures to the book exasperatedly. 

“I said- what is that?” 

You look between him and the baby on the cover.

 

“It’s a book of baby names…” You know he knows this. How could he not? It’s right there in hideous font with the most generic-looking white baby you’ve ever seen. 

“I can see that,” he growls back dangerously. He leans over, crowding into your space and arcing a brow. “Why the fuck do you have it? Why is it in your apartment?” 

Oh. That made more sense, though it wasn’t like it was any of his business anyway. 

“Uh,” you reply dumbly, flicking through a couple of pages. “I have it because I bought it. It’s in my apartment because I paid money for it.” 

Cale breathes in deeply, and your brain flickers for a moment, wondering if this is how you go- hiding the reason why you have a baby names book. A well-read baby names book, too. To him, you supposed, it might have looked a little suspicious. 

“I’m not going to ask again,” he warns. You swallow thickly, and Cale’s eyes dart to the muscles of your throat. You can see clear as day painted on his face he’s thinking something dark. It makes you shiver. 

“I- look, don’t judge me-” you sigh, setting the book down. “I used it for my writing. You know- I used to write those stories and fanfictions and things.” You still did, but Cale didn’t necessarily need to know that. 

“I would need names, so I’d look them up in the book. I like that they have the meanings, origins and the flower that corresponds and shit. Okay? Happy?” 

Cale doesn’t move for another ten, or fifteen seconds. He must find he’s happy with the answer, though, because he plucks it from your fingers and puts the book you were actually reading back into your grasp. Open on the right page. You smile at the thoughtfulness of the action. 

You beckon Cale down so you can press a kiss to his lips, and he softens. But only slightly. To the untrained eye, you wouldn’t have been able to notice it. 

“That’s alright then,” he acquiesces. 

“Glad you approve, dearest,” you reply as he wanders off to do whatever it was he was doing before. 

And with that, you’re back and engrossed in your novel, though you may soon come to regret it if someone doesn’t take that gun off that moron…

[thepenguinweeb]

hi! Uh I saw your requests are open, could I request something for Solo Leveling?

Jinwoo × gn! timid childhood friend, who's a healer. Like they always heal him after a raid and will scold him when he's being stupid and neglecting himself, even though they also neglect themselves secretly (think soft and sweet yet actually depressed as hell)

Then as Jinwoo gets stronger, reader begins to let themselves slowly drift away from Jinwoo since "he's better off without them (aka reader)". When Jinwoo finally finds them again, he realizes how truely delicate reader is, how soft and cozy and cute they are. EVEN WORSE if he finds out readers mental health was just as bad as his when he was E-Rank, even in a worst state from past experiences. (Think constantly buzzing like a bee and 4 seconds from a breakdown)

(Reader is essencially "soft,sleepy and delicate, despite witnessing and enduring horrors beyond anyone's comprehension.)

(Bonus if it makes Jinwoo go MUST PROTECT AT ALL COSTS)

((I hope this is okay. Thank you if you decide to do the request. If not, it's okay,,))

`` You shouldn't just heal others. Take care of yourself, too. ``

[ ♡ Jinwoo x gn!timid!healer!reader ]

[ ♡ You've known Jinwoo ever since you were both small children. You promised that no matter what, you'd always protect each other. But after an incident at one of the dungeons he was sent to, you think it's best if you don't stand in his way. ]

[ Requested by : @shiromay <3 ]

[ Notes : I know it's a crime but I haven't read the Solo Leveling novel yet ;-; I'm planning to real soon!! But if I get anything wrong uhh sorry :( ]

[ TRIGGER WARNING : multiple mentions of self-harm ]

"Catch it, Jinwoo!"

Your small voice called out to the boy as you threw a ball at him. It was always your favourite game to play with him, even if he wasn't great at it.

..As if to prove that point, the ball hit him right in the head and he stumbled to the ground easily.

You hurried over with a worried expression. You could see a few tears in his eyes, then you noticed the bleeding cuts on his knee.

"I.. I'm sorry, I didn't.. mean to.." you mumbled an apology, and to your surprise, he responded with a giggle.

"It's okay. I should have caught it."

He tried to get up, but you stopped him before he could. As he looked at you trough a confused expression, you pulled out a few bandaids from your pockets.

Soon, his knees were covered with pretty pink bandaids which definitely didn't suit him, but you both seemed to think it was amazing.

"Thanks, [Y/N], you're amazing," he complimented, which earned an awkward smile from you.

"When we grow up, I'll protect you from all the monsters," he went on, his eyes shining with wonder. "I'll be the strongest person you've ever seen!"

You giggled and nodded eagerly. "I'll protect you, too! I'll put bandaids on all your wounds and always make sure you're alright!"

You looked each other in the eyes, then said at once,

"I promise!"

You tapped your foot impatiently against the ground as you waited for Jinwoo and his party to finish their raid. You were gonna pick him up - despite him insisting you didn't need to - and, of course, heal him. It would be a miracle if you didn't need to.

With every passing moment, your anxiety became worse. What if Jinwoo didn't come back? What if he died during the raid? What if you could never see him again?

Finally, after what felt like hours, the party appeared with big smiles on every member's face. You scanned the crowd and a relieved sigh escaped your lips when you saw Jinwoo behind them.

Then you sighed again at how battered up he looked. Multiple scratches on his face, bleeding wounds on his leg, one of his arms, a few big bruises and a claw mark on his chest, where his shirt had been torn. Did they not have a proper healer?

"Jinwoo!" You called out. The man noticed you immediately and ran toward you with a smile.

"Hi, [Y/N]," He greeted you in an innocent tone, as if unaware of the frown deepening on your face with every second you spent staring at his wounds.

You shook your head and signaled for him to sit down so you could examine him more. After you finished with that, you hovered your hands over his wounds and used your healing.

"You should be more careful.." you mumbled softly. "This isn't good for you."

"I know, I'm sorry," Jinwoo said while scratching the back of his head. You simply sighed and continued to do your work until you were done, and he was fully healed.

The man stood up with a smile and gave you an appreciative nod. "Thank you, [Y/N]," he said. "You're amazing."

Your expression softened at his compliment. You looked down at the ground and muttered out a 'no problem'.

"I'll take you home.." you said, turning and beginning to walk away. Jinwoo soon followed you too.

Since Jinwoo was released from the hospital, you'd been seeing him a lot less. You visited him fairly frequently while he was recovering, but during those visits you noticed how much he'd changed. You could tell he was becoming stronger, and so, you decided it would be best if you didn't stand in the way of his plans.

You only went to raids which you knew he wouldn't be apart of. You rarely responded to his text messages or calls. But with this, your mental health had started worsening too.

It was a challenge to wake up and get out of bed every day. In all the raids you went to, you did your best to heal everyone, but you could care less about your own health. Who would care if I died, anyway?

You started wearing hoodies and more covering clothing to hide the self-inflicted wounds on you. You could have healed them, but you didn't think you were deserving of it.

The hunters who knew you most noticed this too.

"You okay, [Y/N]? You're usually not this gloomy."

But others just shook it off, since you were always the quiet type.

Today's raid, however, came with an unexpected surprise.

"Jinwoo?" Your eyes widened upon seeing the man in front of you. Not only for how much he'd changed, but just his mere presence.

He nodded, a small smile on his face. "I didn't expect to see you here. It's been a while. How have you been?"

You looked down at the ground, wondering what to say. You quickly decided to just.. lie.

"Fine," you muttered. "But really, what are you doing in a raid for an E-rank dungeon? I thought you moved on to better ones.."

He shrugged. "Just felt like it," he responded, but you could tell he wasn't telling the full truth. Nevertheless, you didn't want to question him about it.

"We're going in, come on, you two!"

The raid proved to be very successful. You could now see with your own eyes how much Jinwoo had improved, and you were amazed. He was so much stronger, and, most importantly, you didn't even need to heal him at all.

"That was nice," he said after you'd come out. "I missed doing raids with you."

You forced a smile on your face and nodded. "Y-Yeah.. it was nice to see you again."

Silence lingered between the two of you for a bit, before Jinwoo decided to break it.

"I'll walk you home," he told you. Despite it sounding like an offer, it was more of a statement. After a few moments of thinking, you reluctantly agreed.

The whole walk was pretty calm. You caught up with each other trough some small talk, but most of the time was spent in silence, the two of you observing the city.

Thankfully, it didn't take long to arrive at your house.

"Thanks for coming with me, Jinwoo," you thanked him with a soft smile. "I'll be out of your way now. See you-"

"Wait."

Before you could turn and get inside, he grabbed your wrist to stop you. His grip wasn't hard, but it was still painful to the fresh cuts on them.

Jinwoo could tell something was off when you hissed in pain at his touch.

"Are you alright, [Y/N]?" He asked, his voice softer than usual. "You've been acting weird this whole time. Is there something wrong?"

You looked down at the ground, desperately trying to come up with excuses. You felt him putting a comforting hand on your shoulder, and you froze up.

"You're not okay," he pointed out. "Please, you don't have to talk about it, but just tell me.. did you do that to yourself?"

He nodded at your wrists, which left you wondering how he knew. Maybe you weren't that good at hiding it, after all.

Too shaken to say anything, you just gave him a weak nod. You could see a frown form on his face.

"This isn't right. You shouldn't do this to yourself." He sighed. "You shouldn't just heal others. Take care of yourself, too. Please."

Tears formed in your eyes upon hearing his words. "I..." you tried to form a sentence through the choked sobs. "I'll try.. it's just so... hard..."

"I know," he said, pulling you in for a hug. "But I'll be there with you. Like we promised each other.."

A/N : oh my GOD did this turn out longer than I expected. Sorry lol I don't usually write so much but I wanted to do as much as I could! This is my first request, so yippee! And I have 2 more in my inbox left, so I appreciate yall sharing your wonderful ideas with me to satiate my hunger for inspiration :3

Dividers by @/rookthorneartistry, ty!!

[harryspet]

sweet sister | peter parker

[Warnings] dark peter parker x innocent reader, reader is extremely innocent, manipulation, male/female masturbation, somnophilia, stepcest, hj, vaginal sex but not really? 

A/N: This is based off a request I got for a innocent reader where Peter teachers her about sex. Reader is 18 and Peter is around 21. DARK THEMES SO READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

In which you’re May and Happy’s foster kid and Peter takes advantage of your innocence. 

Like, reblog and let me know what you think!

word count: 2.9k

You came home from school like it was a normal day. Walking up the steps to your family’s brownstone, clad in your school uniform, and loud music blaring in your headphones, “May!” You shouted too loudly, walking down the hallway towards the kitchen, “Did my package come?”

You stopped in your tracks as you saw three figures standing in the living room. Happy, May, and … some kid you didn’t know. Your eyebrows raised in confusion at the young man standing with your foster parents. 

“Y/N, this is my son Peter!” May smiled, trying not to be awkward. She approached you, urging you forward. Now you recognized him and your eyes widened because of how easily you missed it. He was in all the photos on the mantle but, now, he looked a bit older. 

You were not what Peter expected, at all. By May’s description of you, he thought you might be a middle schooler. His eyes trailed over you, the way you filled out your uniform … Peter snapped out of it, moving forward to hold out his hand to you.

“Hi, I’m-” Interrupting him and surprising him at the same time, you went in for a hug. Peter hesitated for a moment before hugging you back. You noticed he had a strong grip. 

“She’s a hugger,” You heard May whisper. 

You pulled away and offered your hand for him to shake. He took it, smiling, but still a little confused by the long greeting, “I’m Y/N. You look just like May! I mean, you’re very pretty like her.” Happy always went on about how pretty May was and you always agreed. 

You watched as his cheeks reddened. Was it something you said? ''Thank you very much, I haven’t heard that one before.”

You looked back at May who seemed to improve the interaction. You smiled, worrying that you had made him nervous, “Peter finally has a break from his busy schedule to come see us. He’ll be here with us for at least a week. May and I thought this would be a good time for you two to get to know each other.” 

May had taken you in two years ago but this was the first time you were officially meeting Peter. He was always halfway around the world fighting crime and could only stop at May’s work every once and awhile. You never thought you’d ever have a full family like all the people on the television did. 

“That sounds like a lot of fun,” You heard Peter say and your heart did a little backflip. Your very own big brother.  “What’s this about a package?” 

“Oh,” Your face fell, “Uhm, they’re just books.”

Peter gave you a look of inquiry, stuffing his hands into his pockets, “You like to read? What kind of books?”

You opened your mouth to make up some excuse but Happy interrupted you, “I put your package on your bed, sweetheart. Why don’t you show Peter his new room?” Right, you had taken Peter’s old room. 

“Okay!” You perked back up, glad the subject of books was over, “Follow me, big brother!”

That was easy, Peter thought. She didn’t seem to give a second thought about accepting him which was endearing but scared Peter to a certain extent. How trusting was she exactly? May had warned him that she was a little eccentric … and a little emotional. 

Peter tried to keep his focus up as he followed you up the stairs. A part of him was a little let down that you were wearing shorts beneath your plaid skirt. 

“May says you have like a sixth sense. And that you can sense when danger is near. She talks about you a lot, you know? You call it a Peter tingle, right? I thought that was a really cute name but I’m not supposed to bring it up around you apparently-” You were rambling, as usual, and had passed your bedroom but you noticed that Peter wasn’t following you anymore. 

“You made it pink,” You heard Peter say as he peeked into your room. He adjusted the black backpack on his shoulder and you couldn’t help but notice his muscles. He was like the boys you read about in your books but … he was technically your stepbrother. 

You walked toward him, “May said I could decorate it how I wanted. Do you hate it? You hate it, don’t you? I’m really sorry. It’s just that it’s my favorite color and-”

“No way, I like it!” He quickly assured you, not wanting to see what happened when you finally ran out of air. Peter walked inside and you followed him. There was no twin bed anymore but a regular-sized bed with a white canopy. 

There was a pile of stuffed animals in the corner that Peter noted, “You have a lot of stuffed animals …”

“Those are the ones they give you in family court,” You explained to him before pointing over to your bed, “I keep the ones Happy and May give me on the bed, those are my favorite.”

“I see,” You spoke so casually about being in family court that it made Peter wonder what your story was. There were at least ten stuffed animals there, “Which one’s your favorite?”

You liked that question, smiling wide, as you walked over to your bed. Peter watched you carefully as you bent over to grab a gray penguin, “I like penguins a lot. My first Christmas here, May got me this and a penguin puzzle. I’ve done it a million times now but we could put it together if you wanted.”

“I can’t imagine anything better, Y/N.”

You were going to be very fun to get to know, Peter thought. 

+

The family had gone out to dinner that night and had been the rest of the evening putting together a hundred piece, penguin puzzle. It was one of the best days of your life and, as you expected, having a family was wonderful. Having Peter was just an extra bonus. You wished he didn’t have to leave. 

The next day, as you walked down the steps that lead from your school, you didn’t expect to find Peter waiting for you. You ran up to him and hugged him, of course, and you savored the moment when his strong arms were around you. Some girls you didn’t know gasped and practically swooned as they watched you two. 

“I have strict orders to take you straight home so you can start right away on your homework,” You frowned until Peter continued, “But I think we should stop for ice cream.”

You were practically bouncing with excitement as Peter grabbed your hand and lead you down the street. 

At the small parlor, you licked at a cone of chocolate ice cream while Peter stuck his spoon into his ice cream sundae. Peter’s eyes wandered over to your mouth, imagining your wrap your lips around his-

“You never said what you liked to read, Y/N.”

You blushed, your nose wrinkling, as the embarrassment filled you, “It’s silly … you don’t want to hear about it.”

“I do,” Peter insisted, “I won’t tell anyone, don’t worry.”

You took a breath, “They’re … they’re romance novels. It’s a series one of my friends at school told me about. She thinks I’m too … too babyish. Apparently, there are scenes in it ... “

“Scenes like what?” You blushed even more. 

“Bad scenes,” you whispered and Peter pretended to think the subject was taboo, “She wants me to learn about … dirty stuff. These guys are taking us to prom and she wants … she wants us to have our ‘first times’ together. I don’t even know what that means! But I can’t tell her that or she’ll think I’m even weirder than I already am to her.”

Buried treasure. Peter had stumbled upon pure gold.

“Y/N, you’re talking about sex?” Peter narrowed his eyes at you. 

“Sex?” You spoke the word like it was completely foreign on your tongue, “I think that’s it. Sounds gross, right?”

Peter couldn’t help but chuckle, “It’s kinda gross if you think about it too deeply but it’s not meant to be gross. It’s not as scary as you think. It’s quite beautiful, actually.”

Her eyes went wide, “You’ve done it a bunch, haven’t you?”

Peter shrugged, “A few times but only with special people. If the guy who’s taking you to prom isn’t special then you definitely shouldn’t give him your first time.” Peter would have to do some research on this guy and make sure he didn’t even think about coming near her. 

You looked solemnly at your melting ice cream, “I must be a total weirdo then …”

“You’re not, Y/N, trust me. Eighteen is still young.”

You leaned forward, whispering, “I haven’t even kissed anyone, Peter. People do that in middle school.”

Peter leaned forward next, entrancing you with his eyes, “Do you really want to get some experience? Because … I could help you. I’m probably better than those trashy books.”

You raised an eyebrow, “Do brothers and sisters normally talk about stuff like this?”

“Don’t you want to be friends too?” You instantly nodded, “Then I can help you out, as a brother and a friend. But if you want to read your books-”

“No, no, you can teach me!”

And you easily stepped into his trap. 

+

That night, Peter slipped out of his room clad in his pajamas. Your door slowly creaked open and you sat up in your bed. You rubbed the tired from your eyes as Peter peaked in, “My room is freezing … and I can hear Happy snoring through the walls.”

You pulled back your comforter, patting the spot next to you, “You can sleep in here with me,” Peter entered all the way before slowly shutting the door. 

“Really? I can sleep on the floor …” 

You shook your head, “It’ll be like a sleepover.”

Peter moved in the darkness, climbing in beside you. You pulled the covers over him and you both lay down. Peter watched as you turned over before tiredly murmuring, “Goodnight, Peter.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

Peter waited a good hour before moving closer to you. In a slow movement, he had pressed himself against you, taking in the scent of your hair, as he admired the lines of your body. It was a risk but he touched your waist, his hands trailing over to your stomach. He felt the soft skin of your back as well before reaching into his pants. 

He touched himself to the thought of you and he almost panicked as you moved. You turned to your other side, not facing him. Watching your sleeping face sent Peter over the edge and he muffled his grunts with a pillow. 

He wasn’t in your bed when you awoke the next morning. 

+

Happy had surprised May with a romantic dinner that night so Peter and you were left alone that evening. You were brushing your teeth in your jack and jill bathroom when Peter walked in suddenly. You looked over to see him only wearing a pair of basketball shorts. 

You blushed, looking back at the mirror before spitting out the foam in your mouth. He stalked closer to you and you noticed something different in the look in his eyes, “I was thinking something, Y/N, about what you told me at the ice cream shop.”

You put away your toothbrush, turning off the sink before wiping your mouth with a hand towel, “I thought you had forgotten …” 

Peter smirked, “Far from it, actually. I was thinking about how you said you want more experience. With kissing boys and things like that, right?”

You nodded slowly, growing nervous. 

“I think the first thing you should learn is how to pleasure yourself before you learn about pleasuring someone else,” He held your hand, rubbing soothing circles into your palm. 

“Pleasure?”

Peter nodded, “Sex is all about pleasure,” Peter held your hand it slowly brought it against his crotch. You felt something hard and flinched away, “It’s okay, don’t worry.” 

It was such a weird feeling. Only recently had you learned that boys and girls even had different parts. 

“Right here is where guys can feel pleasure,” Then Peter reached out to touch you. Through the fabric of pajama pants, you could feel his fingers brush against your folds, “This is where girl’s feel pleasure. Let me show you.”

He assured you that everything was going to be okay as he slid down your shorts. Before you could step out of them, Peter swiftly lifted you onto the counter and you yelped at the sudden movement. 

He took your hand and pressed your fingers against your crotch. He tried to guide you as best as he could, standing between your spread legs, “Oh my stars …” You breathed out, savoring the foreign new feeling. You wanted to run away from it and run to it at the same time. You looked at Peter with frightened eyes as he slowly moved his hands away.

“That’s it, good girl, keep rubbing,” He praised you, loving the sight of you discovering your own body. You kept going, rubbing circles over that sensitive area through your light pink panties. You leaned back, lifting a leg on the counter, so you could get a better angle.

“Is this good Peter?”

“You’re doing great, Y/N. Doesn’t that feel good?”

You nodded, practically whimpering. You looked at Peter differently than before, you didn’t see the boy you saw before. You thought about how handsome he was and how sweet he’s been to you all week. You felt the wetness growing beneath your legs and you blushed as you look down, “Peter, I-I  think I’m peeing …”

Peter gave you an amused smile, “That just means that you like it, Y/N. That you’re aroused,” Peter grabbed your hand and moved it away from your crotch. You found yourself missing the feeling and you watched as he slid off his pants and underwear. The sight of his manhood felt foreign but aroused you at the same time. 

Peter slowly palmed his manhood as he leaned into you. You practically froze as his lips touched yours. He didn’t even have to speak because as he slowly left soft pecks on your lips, you started to lean back into him. Your hands touched his neck as you started to move your lips against his. You liked it … No, you loved it, “Your lips feel squishy,” You gushed and Peter laughed, turning his head as the kiss became more passionate. 

You let your leg fall back over the counter and, as it did, Peter slowly slid off your underwear. Then suddenly, he lifted you. You wrapped your legs around him as he carried you into your room. He sat on your bed, leading you to straddle him. 

“I want to try something,” Peter said before pecking your lips again. 

You were all in. 

He laid back on your bed, and you sat on his legs, “Touch my cock,” You thought the word was silly but you could tell what he meant. It felt harder than you expected and as you gripped it on your hand, a guttural moan exploded from Peter, “Spit on it.”

“Peter-”

“It’s okay, it’ll feel better that way,” He tried to assure you and you hesitated before pulling your hair back. The trail of spit fell onto his member and you felt gross for a moment until you saw his reaction. 

That sound he was making you even wetter. 

Peter grabbed your legs, pulling you up more until your private parts were positioned right over his, “I want you to rub yourself against me, can you do that?” Peter asked. With all his fantasies coming true, he wasn’t sure how long he’d last. 

You nodded. You held onto Peter’s chest as you slowly dragged your private parts against his. His cock was pressed against his stomach and your lips moved up and down his length. You felt it then. That pleasure and his pleasure mixing. You kept going, starting to feel something building up in your core. 

You bit down on your lips, liking the feeling of when his tip rubbed against your sensitive bulb. Your wetness acting as even more lubrication, you thought you were making quite the mess but Peter didn’t seem to mind. 

You moved faster, Peter’s groans encouraging you and your curiosity of that thing building up inside you kept you going. Your toes curled as you got the feeling of a waterfall rushing off a cliff. Your mind went blank for a moment and your body shook as that damn finally broke. 

You moaned, riding out the feeling and that's' when you felt Peter convulsing. You felt his cock twitch as white spilled from the tip of his member and onto his stomach. Peter’s head rested all the way back and you couldn’t help but smile as you realized that you had both reached your tipping points. 

“Well, was that it? Did I do sex?”

“Sort of,” Peter said, completely out of breath. The eagerness in your eyes wasn’t something he expected, “You have a lot more to learn, Y/N.”

“Then can we do it again, Peter?”

+

Hope you enjoyed this! Feel free to check out my masterlist for more Peter fics! There is a short sequel to this! 

PART TWO

[bellshells]

Nobody Can Know Part Four

It’s here! The finale of Nobody Can Know! This was actually really emotional for me, 52, 540 words later and this fic has come to an end. I have had the absolute best time writing this and I must send a massive shout out to @hinagiku0 for requesting this in the first place. I do have a bonus chapter in the works set in between parts two and three, but no time frame as to when that will be finished. Thank you to everyone who has come on this journey with me, and thank you to everybody who has liked, reblogged and taken the time to send me your kind words. You’ve made this aspiring writer very happy indeed. Thank you. 

Pairing: George Weasley x Fem!Slytherin Reader Warnings: Language, Angst, Blood, Smoking, Alcohol, Smut Summary: Christmas has come faster than anyone could have anticipated, but with everything so up in the air; it’s impossible to celebrate. The promise of a break away may give everyone the clarity they need.  Word Count: 17.4k+

“No, you can’t. That’s- no. I won’t let you.”

  George looked at you with a look of utter desperation, it made you ache. You bit the inside of your cheek to distract from the pain in your heart, it didn’t work. He shook his head and wiped at his face as a tear rolled down his cheek.

  “I’m sorry, George. I just need to think.” You whispered, you longed to reach for him, to comfort him; but your mind was made up. “I need some time away.”

  “Why? Love listen, please just talk to me. Tell me what to do.” George begged, he grasped your hand across the table and squeezed tightly. “I’ll do anything.”

You smiled sadly; you knew he would; he would do anything in that moment to keep you there. But was that enough?

  “I know George, I just feel…honestly I feel like I’ve been hit by a bus. I just need to get away from everything so I can sort myself out.”   “From me?”   “From you, from the shop, everything!” You answered tersely, you didn’t mean to be blunt with him, you were uncomfortable seeing George distressed. But he needed to understand that you wouldn’t be swayed.   “Do you still love me?” He asked, his face twisted in agony as you pulled your hand away and placed it in your lap.   “That’s never in question.” You stood and walked around the table to where George sat, he looked at you expectantly as you bent down. You pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I’ll send you an owl when I’m settled, so you know how to reach me if anything happens.”   “Where will you go?”   “A friends.”

************

  Cokeworth was probably the most depressing place you had ever set foot in. The industrial town was still dirty from the smoke that the chimney of the old mill had puffed out. While in recent years it had ceased in its emission, the last century’s worth of grime had remained strong. It was a bleak, often sad reminder of the proletariat forefathers of the current upper working-class families who had purchased the many two-bed terraced houses for good rail links to Birmingham and Wolverhampton. You could never have imagined that Professor Snape lived somewhere like that, but really, you couldn’t imagine Professor Snape living anywhere other than Hogwarts. You had seen his office on many occasions, it was to be expected really; full of dusty books and rolled up pieces of parchment. It always smelled distinctly of cedarwood and myrrh, a scent you had almost absolutely convinced yourself that it was Professor Snape himself who smelled of such. You had promised yourself you wouldn’t dwell much on the last few days, instead you would take this time for yourself. You wanted to be kind to yourself for once, to just be you. You weren’t looking forward to the quiet though, your life had never been quiet.

  You walked for what felt like miles, all the streets looked the same, each house identical. It was disorientating, the numbers screwed on to each door seemed to ascend and descend in whichever way they liked. You were about to give up and go back the way you came until a little white sign on the side of a house on the corner of the street caught your eye; it had an arrow pointing in the opposite direction with SPINNERS END  written across it. You breathed a sigh of relief and started off in the direction dictated by the sign. 69, 67, 65- it was 65 wasn’t it? You pulled the crumpled bit of paper Professor Snape left you from your pocket and looked from the words there, to the grey wooden door in front of you.

If you are in need, you need only knock

  You knocked once on the door, you heard a click of a lock from the inside and it swung open slowly. There it was again, that smell. It was almost overpowering as you took a hesitant step into the house. From what you could see, it was immaculately clean. You dropped your suitcase at the bottom of the stairs and removed your heavy cloak from around your shoulders, hanging it over the bannister. The walls of the hallway were a dark green, but this didn’t surprise you. You would have been incredibly shocked it you had entered Professor Snape’s house and the walls had been painted magenta and mustard. You smirked at the idea and followed the hallway round to a room on the right, it looked like it should be a lounge. The walls were lined with books, every surface was littered with them too. There was a well-worn leather armchair in one corner with a drink’s cabinet close by. A table sat in the middle of the room and on the opposite side, a two-seat sofa. The leather of the sofa looked intact, like not a soul had ever sat on it. Whilst you knew that was near impossible, your heart ached for the lonely man who owned this house. Nobody should lead as solitary a life as this.

  You looked for a moment, long the lines and lines of books. Some looked to be incredibly old indeed, some without a dent in the hard spines. There were books in languages you didn’t know and some you recognised as classics in the muggle world. You ran your finger across the spines and sighed, you could imagine clearly that Professor Snape had read each and every one of them. You could see him in his chair, one leg crossed over the other- book in one hand and cigarette in the other. You smiled at the image you had created, you hoped he was happy here. You made your way out of the sitting room and back into the dark hallway, the stairs had a cupboard underneath them, the door painted the same green as the walls. You noticed a glimpse of the kitchen through a door which sat ajar, you pushed it open and stepped through. There were more books, many sat on the small dining table that sat in the corner. It was old, it reminded you pews at Hogwarts in its shape. The kitchen itself was cramped, although it had all the amenities one might expect, the claustrophobic closeness of the cupboards did nothing but remind you of the tiny kitchen in your flat. You walked over to the cupboards and opened them one by one, mugs and glasses, plates and bowls (four of each) and then one full of non-perishables. You laughed slightly at the tins of baked beans and scotch broth, a tin of rice pudding sat further forward on the shelf, as if picked out and then placed back.  

  You opened up a low cupboard next to the fridge and exhaled in relief at the sight of instant coffee, you pulled it out and unscrewed the lid. Giving the coffee a big sniff, you decided it was good enough to drink and sought to put the kettle on. After you had found the sugar and cutlery, you poured the contents of a tin of tomato soup into a pan and lit the cooker. Satisfied with your level of domesticity achieved, you placed your coffee and soup onto a tray and levitated it behind you into the sitting room. You scoured the books for something to read, and finally settled on a dusty black jacketed book called Dracula. The image of the author; a gentleman named Bram Stoker was still and aged, you could but assume this was a muggle book and you secretly relished in the simplicity of it. You settled into Professor Snape’s well-loved armchair and ate your soup quickly, quietly cursing when you burnt your tongue. You devoured the novel, your coffee forgotten until you squealed at the un-dead return of Lucy Westenra. You heart raced and you laughed, having fully immersed yourself in this novel. It was exhilarating. Your coffee was now cold as you brought it to your lips, and you yawned. It was dark outside now, but, in the deep December that could mean it was about five o’clock. Looking over your shoulders as if someone could catch you at any moment, you reached for the handle of the drink’s cabinet and marvelled at the assortment of alcohol stored within. You reached greedily for a bottle of port and padded into the kitchen for a glass, it was then you noticed a scrap of parchment next to the sink.

  (Y/N), it read in Professor Snape’s neat script,

Welcome, if you have decided to stay. I have left some muggle money on my desk in the second bedroom upstairs, along with an almanac of the values of it. There is some food in the cupboards, please feel free to help yourself to it. I am not expecting anybody to arrive, so please do not let anybody inside the house. I would be very much appreciative of that. You may write to me if you wish, I would like to know if you are there. Have a Merry Christmas.

Best,

Severus

  You raced up the narrow stairs of Professor Snape’s house, port and glass forgotten. The landing was small and had three doors that lead from there. One you assumed was the bathroom, you hoped it was as clean as the rest of the house. You continued to the next door along and opened it, Professor Snape’s personal study before you. You walked into the body of the room, absolutely in awe. He had enchanted the ceiling to reflect the night sky, the moon high above and stars twinkled through the heavy clouds. You stood for a moment and appreciated the craftmanship of this, it was silent in this room and the serenity of the night sky filled you with a sense of calm you hadn’t felt for the longest while. By the only window in the room sat his desk, it was surprisingly non-cluttered with minimal books. True to his note, there was an envelope marked Money. It was a curious thing, you peeked inside and found coins but also paper money too. What would muggles do if the paper money floated away? From the cursory glance you gave Professor Snape’s deconstruction of the value of each piece it seemed the paper money, or ‘notes’ as he called them were of greater value than the coins. But the coins together equalled the sum of notes. It was all very confusing, so you popped the envelope back on the desk and opened up the small drawer on top, thankful to find some parchment.

  The feel of Professor Snape’s quill in your hand was foreign and took some getting used to. You wrote two letters in total, one to Professor Snape to let him know you had arrived and to thank him again for his hospitality. He really had gone over and above what you had dared hope, and you sunk further into his debt. The other letter, was to George. Could it really only be a few hours since you had last seen him? You ignored the glassy state of your eyes as you sealed the letter and opened the window. A small silver whistle hung on a chain attached the inside of the sill, it had an owl in flight intricately engraved on the side. It was really quite beautiful, it glistened in the moonlight of the room and felt heavy in your hand. You brought the cold metal to your lips and blew once, but no sound came from the whistle. You looked desperately into the blackness of the street, the only light was the flickering streetlamp; only one was working and that one looked ready to be condemned. You noticed a speck in the distance, it grew bigger as it flew toward you. Your heart leapt at the sight of the black owl that fluttered its wings as it settled on the windowsill.   “This one first.” You instructed the owl as you offered the letter addressed to Professor Snape to it, it presented its leg and you fumbled in the drawers of Professor Snape’s desk for some string. “Fucking fuck fuck, where’s the fucking string?” You cursed, the owl gave an indignant hoot, and you made a face to it. Upon finding the string, you attached both letters to the owl’s legs and watched as it flew into the night.

  You trapsed back down the stairs and collected you dirty dishes and washed them in the sink. You yawned, fuck, you didn’t realise how tired you were until you caught your eyes closing of their own accord as you stood aimlessly in the kitchen. You collected your bag and made your way back up the stairs to the bathroom. You hadn’t expected a bachelor to take such good care of his home; the bathroom smelled strongly of bleach and the toilet was so clean you could’ve eaten your dinner off of it. No shower, you thought. Not a bit of wonder really, especially when you considered how old these houses were. You were thankful though, that Professor Snape must have charmed the brick somehow to keep the heat in, you wouldn’t even know where to start switching a radiator on. You decided against having a bath, it was far too late, and you didn’t fancy accidentally drowning to death as you inevitably fell asleep. You changed and popped your dirty clothes into the empty washing basket in the bathroom, making a mental note to write to Professor Snape and ask for instructions on how to use the washing machine. You felt a pang of loneliness as you walked across the empty landing, you and George never went to bed alone and you had missed his usual night-time burst of energy as you would get under the covers. It usually resulted in you making love for a few hours until you both passed out from exhaustion. No- you wouldn’t think about that.

  You pondered what to do. There was one bed. You hadn’t spared a second thought to the idea that Professor Snape had turned his second bedroom into a study, you cursed yourself as you stood in your knickers and stared at his wide bed. The bedding was black, of course and looked inviting in your sleepy state. You chewed on the inside of your cheek. It wasn’t appropriate for you to sleep in his bed, certainly not. You imagined how enraged he would be if he found out you had slept in his bed. But, he had let you stay here. Surely, he knew you would need to sleep? Maybe he thought you would have a sleeping bag, or even a blanket and you could sleep on the sofa that looked like it had never been sat on. You shook your head and chuckled, what a nightmare. Resigned, you pulled back the covers of Severus Snape’s bed and climbed in. You decided you would find your way to the town centre tomorrow and buy a pillow and a blanket and sleep on the sofa. But tonight, well one night wouldn’t hurt. You had imagined Professor Snape would sleep in a coffin, or perhaps a bed of nails in your youth. You hadn’t considered a large spongy bed, with brushed cotton sheets and pillows so soft your head could sink through them. The sheets smelled of freshly washed linen and you wondered if he had cleaned his house for you coming, you were grateful if he had and impressed if he hadn’t. Your eyes were heavy and closed almost instantly, you pulled the covers tight to your chest and slipped into a dreamless sleep.

********

  You were awoken by the sound of scratching. You opened your eyes and were confused for a moment why there wasn’t a sleeping redhead next to you. It had been three days since you had arrived in Spinner’s End and you felt almost at home now. You had a routine, you would wake up and have a bath, have some breakfast and read. You had managed to find the muggle supermarket and filled the cupboards full to burst. You often found yourself falling asleep in Professor Snape’s armchair. The evening would breach the windows of the living room, and you would drift away. It wasn’t bad, it wasn’t particularly exciting either. You felt the same pang of loneliness you’d felt the night before as you sat slowly and sighed. The black owl tapped its beak impatiently on the bedroom window, you rose unsteadily and pulled a t-shirt out of your open bag. The owl didn’t wait for you to let it in as you opened the window, it swooped into the room and landed on the bed, kicking it’s legs, like you hadn’t already noticed the letters tied to it.   “I haven’t got any treats for you, sorry.” You said as you attempted to untie the letters, at least, if the owl stayed still for a second. You finally prised the letters away and the owl flew out the way it had come. The morning air was freezing, more snow had fallen in the night and the whole street was bathed in an eerily white blanket. There were a few children already out in the street, their parents scraping ice from the windows of their cars. People still need to work, you supposed, regardless of how close it was to Christmas. You closed the window and climbed back into bed, it was still warm under the covers and you settled in to read your letters.

(Y/N), the first one read.

Glad to hear you have settled in. Yes, you may help yourself to some of the drinks in the cabinet, but if you touch my Lagavulin with your grubby little hands, I shall know.

You snorted as you read that. You inched deeper into the bed, craving more warmth.

I’ll be in London for New Year, believe me, it’s as much an inconvenience to you as it is to me. So, whilst you are more than welcome to stay in my house, be prepared for my arrival on 31st December. If you wish to stay until then, I will require you to buy food. Please let me know what you decide to do well ahead of time.

Best,

Severus

That was the third time he had signed off by using Severus and not Professor Snape or Professor S. Snape, Head of Slytherin House Hogwarts, Potions Master, Surprisingly Nice Person as you had almost expected him to. So, he was coming back for New Year? Blanket and pillows were definitely on your agenda for the day. You picked up the other letter. You knew it was from George and you felt a sinking feeling in your gut as you fingered the envelope. You weren’t really expecting a reply, you told him you had arrived safe and you’d write him again soon. You weren’t sure what in the letter you sent actually required a response.

My darling, George wrote.

I’m chuffed to hear you’ve settled in wherever you are. I’d like to think you’re being looked after, but I know you don’t need anyone to look after you. I really miss you, gorgeous. I know there’s not much I can say that I didn’t already say yesterday, but I would have felt like an absolute git if I didn’t tell you again. I’m not going to ask you to come home if you’re not ready, but I wanted to let you know that me and Fred are heading to mum’s for Christmas. Couldn’t quite face it in the flat without you. So, if you decide you want to come home for Christmas, you know where we are. I love you, (Y/N). I’ll do anything to show you that.

All my love forever, George xxx

P.S. I noticed you didn’t take any of your tampons with you, just say the word and I’ll send them to you. Wouldn’t want you to be uncomfortable, love x

  You shot out of bed like a rocket. Your tampons? Oh fuck. You raced across the landing to the loo and as you sat down, you saw the same sight that had been staring you in the face for weeks.

Nothing. Nothing in your knickers.

You were late. More than late, it had been far more than a week ago since you were due on and yet, with all the stress of the last few days you had forgotten all about it. You sank onto the bathroom floor and cried. Big, mournful tears and sobs that wracked your whole chest. This couldn’t be, this wasn’t to be your life. With a sniff of resolution, you stood from the floor and looked at yourself in the mirror. You hadn’t realised how haggard you looked. There were dark circled under your eyes and your face was pale and gaunt. You ran a finger across your cheek and felt the hardness of your cheekbone that jutted out further than it ever had before. Merlin, you were far too young for any of this. In the year that you had spent being George’s girlfriend you had had more strife than you could have possibly imagined. Quite frankly, you thought, you had taken it like a champ. But this just seemed one ordeal too far. You were alone, alone and hiding in Severus fucking Snape’s house from your boyfriend. No family, no friends, nothing.  No, no more.

******

  You hadn’t been to this part of London before. You were quite shocked when she suggested meeting you here, you hadn’t anticipated she was one for the theatre. As you stared up at Her Majesty’s Theatre, the bright still photographs of the show stared back at you. A woman, with long curly hair in a pink dress seemed frightened as a masked man with dark hair loomed behind her. What utter drivel you thought, who would pay money to see this? You rubbed your hands together, now significantly warmer with your new gloves you had bought on your way into London; and scoured the busy street for her. You were starting to think she wasn’t coming when you saw an emerald green cape swish in your periphery.   “There you are! Merlin, I was beginning it think you were taking the piss out of me.” You said as you wrapped her into a warm hug.   “Never,” Pansy smirked, she pulled away from you and gazed intently at your face. “You look terrible mate.”   “Thank you dear, you are nothing if not horrendously honest.” You looked at Pansy with a sly smirk. It felt so wonderful to see her again, her arm entwined easily with yours as you started back toward Leicester Square. “Why did you want to meet in front of that theatre?” You asked.   “Oh, I saw the show last week with my parents and it’s an easy location, tucked out the way a bit yet still in central London.” Pansy seemed to have blossomed in the time since you had last seen her. her hair had grown long and glossy, and she was pretty, very pretty.   “You? You saw a musical?” You couldn’t help the laugh that left your lips. Pansy rolled her eyes and pushed you playfully.   “Don’t judge unless you’ve seen one yourself. The music is to die for.” She smirked and lead you up a busy street. “Do you want to look at the Christmas Markets?” Pansy asked as she picked up a bauble from a nearby stall and inspected it. You wondered if it was a mistake to meet in such a crowded place so close to Christmas but, as she had reminded you, less chance of bumping into somebody you know.   “Actually Pans, I need to talk to you.” You replied, she nodded and lead you across the square to a café, all of the tables were either taken or dirty. You both looked over your shoulders as you pointed your wand at a table in the corner and the dirty mugs and plates stacked and ended up on the next table over. “What do you want? I have muggle money.” You said as you reached into your purse and pulled out one of the paper notes; you remembered they were worth more than the coins. Pansy looked from the paper note in your hand and to your face and burst out laughing. “What?!” You demanded. Onlookers from other tables began to stare in your direction as Pansy doubled over laughing.   “Oh, fucking hell, (Y/N). You are so clueless.” She managed through her giggles. “You’re going to pay for two coffees with a fifty-pound note?”   “Is that wrong?” You asked bewildered, surely it was right to take the biggest one?   “Merlin, just put that back in your purse before someone steals it out of your hand and I’ll get the coffees.” Pansy replied, you could see her shoulders still bobbing up and down with laughter even as she queued for your drinks. You couldn’t help but smile too, it had been so long since you had seen her last, too long.

  Pansy ended up taking longer than you anticipated ordering drinks. Your stomach began to rumble, and you felt sick. You ran a hand through your hair and sighed, you needed to speak to Pansy about the situation. You had nobody else to turn to. You stared aimlessly out of the window at the last- minute Christmas shoppers frantically move from shop to shop. You wondered if George would have taken the things you had bought for his family back to the shops, or if he would have wrapped them terribly and dished them out. You cringed at the idea of Molly seeing George’s wrapping and thinking it was yours. Out of the corner of your eye you saw a flash of gold and a suitcase whizz pass the window. Your heart raced as you made eye contact with him, Mundungus Fletcher. Behind him he pulled a trolley you saw old ladies carry their shopping in full of tat. He raised a ringed hand up and waved at you through the glass, a sneer fixed on his stupid face. You reached for your wand, but he was too fast, he weaved through the crowd and was gone. You searched for him wildly with your eyes, you craned your neck to try and see further, but it was no use. He had disappeared as quickly as he appeared. You tried to quell the hatred that bubbled under your skin and took a deep breath.   “Who was that?” Pansy asked as she set a tray on the table. She passed you your coffee and a slice of cake and put the tray on the floor.   “Nobody.” You muttered. You thanked her and took a sip, you grimaced as you swallowed it. Muggle coffee was terrible, watery and bland. It made you long for home, the kitchen staff at your parent’s house were always at the top of their game. It had spoiled you really, you had made such an effort to learn how to do everything yourself. You wouldn’t be one of them. You refused.   “What did you want to talk about?” Pansy said as she shovelled a forkful of cake into her mouth. You bit your lip; you didn’t know how to say it. “Oi, you haven’t dragged me all the way to London just for a coffee so talk.”   “I’m late.”   “What do you mean?”   “My period’s late.”

  Pansy’s fork stopped halfway to her mouth; her eyes wide with shock. You tapped on the table nervously and glanced over your shoulder. You would be mortified if you found yourself in another situation like the one of the last few days.   “How long?”   “Nearly two weeks now that I think about it.”   “Shit.”   “What do I do, Pansy?” Your eyes brimmed with tears as you watched your friends face flit between emotions. Pansy’s usually stern face softened, she ran a hand over her beautifully quaffed hair and sighed.   “Have you been to St. Mungo’s?” She asked, you shook your head.   “I didn’t know I had to. I only realised this morning and that’s when I wrote you straight away.”    “Right, okay. So, first thing you need to do is go to St. Mungo’s, you’ll see a mediwitch and they’ll make you drink a potion to see if you’re…pregnant or not.” She whispered, you nodded tearfully.   “Is that it? I just need to go to St. Mungo’s?”   “Well, you need to make an appointment first. Only-” She stopped short, she frowned, and her brow furrowed.   “Only?” You prompted.   “Only, it’s the day before Christmas Eve (Y/N). They’ll be no appointments until after the New Year, I’m sure.”   “Is it the 23rd already?” You asked, “Fuck me, I didn’t realise.” You paused. “So I have to wait?” Pansy nodded and swallowed another mouthful of cake. She pondered for a second before she sat up straight in her chair.   “Unless…”   “Unless?” You asked, you were growing impatient.   “There is the old-fashioned way of finding out. The muggle way, it’s just as effective. My sister had to do it before she was of age and she had it off with one of the Black cousins.”   “Which is?”

******

  You shifted your weight uneasily from foot to foot. You were in Piccadilly Circus waiting outside of a, you think Pansy called it a chemist? She didn’t trust you to not have a breakdown in the middle of a muggle pharmacy so left you to wait outside. It was bitterly cold and the snow had begun to fall harder than before. You watched as muggle pedestrians tried to weather their way through the flurry. How had it gotten to be the 23rd of December without you noticing? How had you let yourself not notice that your period was late? Very, very late, you cursed. You couldn’t help but be slightly angry at Fred and George, you had worked your fingers to the bone over the last few weeks to make sure the sop was stocked to the brim ready for Christmas. You had been exhausted, and still found time to cook and clean for the boys too. No, stop that, you thought. You were just irritable and nervous. You weren’t angry at the boys; you loved the boys; and were so proud of everything they had achieved in such a small space of time. Its natural to have bumps in the road, you just hoped there wouldn’t be a bump of another kind making an appearance.

  You shook your head to try and rid yourself of these thoughts. It was no use to anyone to berate yourself, you placed a hesitant hand on your stomach. You prayed silently to Merlin, to anybody that could possibly hear you. You whispered the words over and over again in your mind, please don’t let me be pregnant please don’t let me be pregnant please don’t let me be-   “Got it!” Pansy thrust a plastic bag in your direction, followed by a handful of coins. You cocked your head to the side in confusion. “Your change,” she announced and placed the money in your hand. “Merlin, you know absolutely nothing do you.” You offered her a tight-lipped smile as she linked her arm with yours and you hurried away from the pulsing crowd.   “Right, let’s go to your flat and get this over with.” Pansy stated, she pointed to the designated apparation point and looked at you expectantly. The thought of going into an empty flat filled you with a dread that quickly turned to sickness, a bile that rose in your throat. You shook your head and slumped against the wall behind you.   “I can’t Pans, I can’t go back there now. Not today, I’m not ready.” You muttered, your hair fell into your face and shielded it from Pansy’s view. You felt Pansy put an arm around her shoulders. She pulled you close to her and enveloped you in a hug. The tears you had been holding in since you left Severus’ (could you even call him that now?) house fell from your heavy eyes as you clutched to your friend for dear life. She rubbed your back and swayed you from side to side.   “That’s okay, we don’t have to go there. Let’s just go to where you’re staying.”   “I can’t take you there either!” You laughed through your tears, Pansy laughed too and brushed her thumb across your cheek.   “Fucking hell, you truly are off grid, aren’t you? Don’t do break-ups by half.”   “We haven’t broken up, Pansy. I just needed some time away. I haven’t been on my own since…since-”   “Shh. I know, I know. I was just winding you up.” She pushed you back gently and held you at arm’s length. “Now stop crying please, you’re making me uncomfortable.” You laughed again and smiled weakly at her. You exhaled deeply and nodded. You needed to pull up your big girl pants and be an adult.   “I’ll owl you as soon as I know.” You said, Pansy’s face fell into a look of concern as you took a step back from her.   “Have I not shown you, you can trust me, (Y/N)?” She replied, she looked hurt and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.   “Yes, of course you have, Pansy. I just- I need to do this alone.” Pansy sniffed in indifference and crossed her arms over her chest. You felt instantly guilty, you loathed to upset your friend, especially when she had gone above and beyond for you; but you needed to do this by yourself.   “Fine. But you should let George know, it’s as much his concern as it is yours.” Pansy said stiffly before she turned away from you and disapparated with a small pop!

  You were still for a moment. The snow had turned to sleet and it seemed to soak you through to your very bones as you stood. How had everything turned into such a mess in such a small space of time? Of course, Pansy was right, you needed to tell George. He had a right to know what was going on as anybody else and another feeling of guilt flooded over your already aching chest.

******

  Desdemona was waiting patiently on a streetlamp as you approached Severus’ house. She let out an almighty hoot as you spotted her in the encroaching darkness, she flew quicky from her porch and nearly into your face.   “Bloody stupid bird,” You muttered as you extended an arm. Desdemona landed roughly; her talons pinched your skin under your winter coat as she offered the letter in her beak. Your heart sank as you took it, it could only be from your parents. “I don’t have anything for you. Go home.” You ordered her, if you didn’t know any better you could have sworn she rolled her eyes before she took off into the sky. You watched her fly for as far as you could see her, her tawny features hard to make out after a while. With a groan, you let yourself in to the house.

  You settled in Severus’ armchair and kicked your shoes off. The letter from your parents held tightly in your hand, it felt heavy and you were anxious yet reluctant to find out what it said. You sank lower into the comfortable leather and brought your knees to your chest and teased open the envelope. It wasn’t a howler, that was for certain. A smaller envelope dropped out of the initial one, and a folded piece of parchment landed on your lap. Ignoring the small envelope, you picked up the note and noticed immediately it was written in your father’s hand.

Daughter,

I understand you have moved to Diagon Alley with your partner; congratulations, I’m pleased you have found happiness. I must admit, this is to be a strange Christmas without you here with us. I will leave your stocking above the fireplace like always. I wish for you to understand that you are always welcome here, this is your home. I am your father. You will always be my little girl. I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you.

Enclosed you will find your Christmas present; your mother gave her blessing for me to send it to you.

Merry Christmas, my darling.

You clutched the letter to your chest as you sobbed. You traced your finger over your father’s words, as if you could touch him through the parchment. You missed him more than words could say, you hadn’t anticipated how much so. In the time that had elapsed since you had last seen him, it was easy to forget the good things, the best things about your father; instead remembering him as the distant man who told you to run instead of protecting you. But he had, from the coldness of your mother, from the sneering remarks of the other noble families as a child and finally from your torment as you sat alone at Christmas.

  You padded solemnly into the kitchen and retrieved the bottle of port and the glass tumbler you had set out the night before. You poured yourself a healthy measure and as you brought the glass to your lips, you stopped. You remembered the white plastic bag you had flung on the floor at the bottom of the stairs when you arrived back, your stomach gurgled, and you bit your lip. What were you to do? Well, you knew exactly what you should do. You should write to George immediately, or better yet, go straight to The Burrow and you could do this together but- there was a part of you that felt that if you were to go to him now, you would be conceding. You would be letting yourself down. You hadn’t run straight into George’s arms the minute Mundungus’ plot was uncovered, if you were to go back now after two nights away from him would make you look weak. You demanded space, you demanded time to think and get away; you deserved it! George had to understand that he had hurt you immeasurably and not everything could be solved by a kiss and a cuddle.

  Regardless, if it turned out you weren’t pregnant then what would have been the need? You would have gone back to him at the first sign of trouble like always, and you weren’t prepared to it this time. If you were pregnant then yes, you would go to him. You would sit down and have an adult conversation over what to do next; but if you weren’t? You could perhaps enjoy this time to yourself before you returned to him. Before you decided what it was exactly you were to say to him. The layers of guilt that had so far weighed heavy on your chest eased slightly, your affirmations to yourself that this was the right thing to do, seemed to have assuaged you some. It was time, you knew it was. It was now or never, and it was most certainly, now.

  You read and re-read the instructions on the side of the box as you sat on the toilet. Your hand trembled as it held the little white stick, you parted your legs and pushed your hand between them; no idea if the stick was in the right position. When you were satisfied that you had done what you needed to, you pulled the stick away and popped the little blue cap on the used end. The box said it would take two minutes to give you a result, so with that, after thoroughly washing your hands, you returned to the living room. You placed the ‘test’ (it was most unlike any test you had ever taken in your life thus far) on the table face down, so you couldn’t see the little window and picked Dracula up from its perch on the nearby shelf. It was then that you noticed the small envelope your father had sent on the arm of the chair. You opened it gently, unsure of what it could be. Onto your lap fell an incredibly delicate silver choker encrusted with brilliant emeralds and littered with small diamonds, given to your mother when your grandmother died. You lifted it to the light and watched how the jewels caught the light. This piece of jewellery had been in your family for generations, You had admired it since you were a little girl, it had sat pride of place around your mother’s neck for special occasions, and you had tried it on- once or twice. Your mother would have been furious if she had found out. Your heart swelled with pride as you traced your fingers lovingly across it, that your mother wanted you to have it. Progress perhaps?

  A thunderous banging on the front door caused you to yelp in fear. You reached into the pocket of your jeans and produced your wand, you waved it frantically across the room and with a puff, all the candles were extinguished. You were plunged into darkness. Your heart pounded in your chest as you inched slowly out of the living room; wand raised- you weren’t sure what use it would be in the dark, but you refused to cast a Lumos. Severus had said he wasn’t expecting anyone at the house, and to not let anybody inside. You swallowed your fear and allowed yourself a second to think. The only people who would know what this house was, would either be one of two kinds. Muggles, probably drunk, banging on the wrong door or the darker alternative. The one you hoped to Merlin it wasn’t. The banging recommenced as you entered the hallway, you flinched at the sound but continued in your progress toward the front door. The early evening had well given way to night, and the only thing you could make out through the panes of glass in the door, was the shadowy figure that once again brought its hand up to bang against the wood. You crept silently along the hallway, with each step your pulse quickened as with trembling hand, you slowly reached for the catch. You felt a trickle of sweat run down your neck as you clasped the metal knob and turned it ever so slightly, you aimed to open the catch and fling the door open to the surprise of the intruder. You hoped to catch them off guard. As soon as you heard the click of the door, you flung it open.   “Stupefy!” You exclaimed, but he was faster.   “Expelliarmus.” Your wand flew from your hand and landed in his, bloodied and shaking. You blinked, unmoving as he reached for you. His other hand grasped onto your shirt as he tried to stand up straight. You recoiled backwards; it was instinctual. You noticed the hand which held fast onto the front of your shirt was also drenched in blood.   “Don’t scream.” He breathed, “Don’t scream, just…help…me inside.” You managed to nod and grasp him under his arm, as with the other he left bloody handprints along the wall. He kicked the door closed behind him as you helped him into the lounge, and with a big heave, assisted him to the sofa. “Why…is it so…dark?”

  In a second, every candle was lit, and you were able to get a good look at his face.   “What happened to you, Severus?” You asked horrified, he had a large gash on his cheek that bled freely. He clutched his side, and you noticed a flash of skin underneath his hands, he was wounded, badly. Bleeding profusely, what the fuck do you do? “Tell me what to do.”   “Dittany.” Severus whispered, “Cupboard in…bathroom.” You raced from the lounge up the stairs as fast as your feet could carry you, you wrenched open the bathroom cupboard and frantically searched for Essence of Dittany. You noticed that your hands were also covered in blood, his blood as you twisted and turned every bottle until you clasped your hand around the brown bottle.   “Give it to me.” Severus said weakly, he reached for the bottle, but you shook your head.   “No, you can’t-”   “I didn’t ask for…your opinion witch, give…me the…bottle.” He wheezed through gritted teeth, his face was a mass of blood now, like he had somehow tried to quell the bleeding but had somehow made it worse. You hesitated for a moment before you handed the bottle to him. He reached forward with a surprisingly steady hand and applied three drops to his cheek, his face contorted in pain as a small puff of green smoke rose around him. He winced as he tried to sit up, “Help me,” was all he said. Again, you supported his arm and helped right him. “My coat, I can’t reach-” You reached for his buttons and swiftly tried to undo them, he writhed beneath you, obviously in a copious amount of pain.   “Sorry!” You breathed as you reached his midsection, you could see clearly now the wound on his side. It looked as if he had been sliced, the blood was thick and dark as it oozed out of him. Tears stung your eyes as you panicked, you felt so very overwhelmed and with no idea how to help him. You tried to gently manoeuvre his arms through his sleeves, his jaw clenched and with two tugs, you managed it. He pulled his shirt up to his chest and granted you a look at how thin he was. You almost cringed at the sight of every rib in the poor man’s body, his stomach and what you could see of his chest were absolutely littered with scars; some old, some new.   “You will have to help…with this one.” Severus said, he looked better, if that was possible. The wound on his cheek shone purple, as if it had been there all along. The only tell-tale sign was the blood beginning to dry there. You rolled him onto his side and took the bottle from his hands, opening it quickly. You placed a gentle hand above his wound, just to the side of where his ribs jutted out. Severus flinched one and then relaxed as you tenderly brushed your fingers against his skin.   “Ready?” You asked, he gave a curt nod and you applied four drops of the Dittany across his wound. Severus, to his credit, let out a groan of pain whilst his whole body shook under the strain of new skin closing the wound. The puff of smoke was larger this time, you held your breath as it passed over your face. You held him in place until his breathing slowed, he looked at you askance and motioned to be helped up. “Do you want some water?” You asked as you pulled his shirt back down, covering him up. Severus shook his head.   “Whisky.” You rolled your eyes but knew better than to argue with him. You stood and brushed your hands against your jeans, you were sticky with his blood and felt uncomfortable. You hurried over to the drinks cabinet and pulled out a bottle of the amber liquid. Severus held his hand open and you passed him the bottle, he pulled the cork out with his teeth and brought it to his lips.  

  You watched him as he took sip after sip of the whisky, the colour eventually returned to his cheeks and you felt satisfied to leave him for a moment. You wandered into the kitchen and doused your hands with soap, scrubbing them hard to remove the blood. You fought back tears as the image of Severus writhing in pain engrained itself into your mind. You had never seen so much blood in your life and shuddered as you remembered the smell of the smoke as his skin knit together. You found him asleep on the sofa as you entered, bottle tipped to the side and his face peaceful. Carefully, you slipped his shoes from his feet and propped his legs up onto the sofa. Your wands lay together on the floor, you retrieved yours and Accio’d his duvet and a pillow, laying the latter under his head as you covered him in the blanket.

  You retrieved your cloak and settled into the armchair, you pulled it up to your chin and hooked your legs over one of the arms. It wasn’t comfortable, not in the slightest, but you couldn’t justify leaving him in his state. Your hand closed around your wand and pressed it against your chest, ready, just in case. For what- you didn’t know.

******

  “Sleep well?”

  You awoke with a start. Severus sat across the room from you, he was upright on the sofa. He still looked weak, but his eyes sparkled with humour.   “Like the dead.” You offered feebly; you arched your back; oh, fuck it was agony. You winced and Severus chuckled, your neck was stiff as you craned it to look at him.   “Nice choice of words.” You grimaced as you swung your legs onto the floor and ran your hands through your hair. You were surprised to feel the ends were dried red. Oh, of course. You shuddered as a fleeting image of the previous night’s bloody work crossed your thoughts. Brushing it off, you stood. “Coffee?”   “Please.” He answered, he looked more tired than you had ever seen as he watched you lazily. You returned a few moments later with two mugs of coffee, his black obviously, Severus nodded in thanks. You drank in silence, neither of you looking at the other. After a while, you stood without speaking. You felt disgusting, you were covered almost head to toe in Severus’ blood, although you had scrubbed at your hands- you hadn’t realised how messy it had been.

  You allowed yourself to cry in the bath. The water was hot and as you sank beneath the surface, you felt pathetic. You sobbed, more than you had in days. Your throat hurt and your eyes were swollen. Your heart hurt, why? Were you scared? Scared that someone might come after Severus and you would be caught in the crossfire? Or guilty that the man who had shown you so much kindness had been so dreadfully hurt and you hesitated in answering the door.

  He was sat in the same position that he had been in when you left him. He didn’t look like he had moved a muscle.   “Are you in pain?” You asked quietly, you felt stupid asking him stood in your Christmas pyjamas, but you were quickly running out of clean clothes.   “Immensely,” Severus answered wryly, he pointed at the coffee table. “What’s that?” Your gaze followed the direction of his pointed finger and your stomach fell.   “Nothing. Don’t worry.” You replied quickly, you snatched the pregnancy test and thrust it into the pocket of your pyjama bottoms. How the fuck had you forgotten about that? Your heart raced; you could know. You could know now, all you had to was look at the little window and it would tell you all you needed to know.  “Is that a pregnancy test?” Severus asked, the whisper of a smile tugged at his lips as you blushed.   “No.” You lied, why would he know what a pregnancy test looked like anyway? Especially a muggle one. Severus shook his head.   “If you say so.” He paused and watched you, your hair dripped big, wet droplets onto your shoulders. “Bring me some parchment and a quill, I need to write a letter.”   “Do you not think you should rest?” His face was aghast as you questioned him, you squared your shoulders and met his gaze.   “I promise not to exert myself too much moving my wrist.” You gave him a look of annoyance as he made a gesture as if he were writing. You rolled your eyes again, he chuckled once and then grasped his side in pain. Good, that serves him right for being a dick. You smirked to yourself as you retrieved parchment and a quill along with the silver whistle and thrust them into his hands.   “Would you like something to eat?” You watched him as, even with the sheer amount of pain he was in, his hand was steady as he wrote fluidly across the page. Severus ignored you as he continued to write. You sat in the armchair and watched him for several minutes, you noticed he brought the feathery tip of his quill to his lips every once in a while, in thought. It was almost hypnotic, watching his hand glide across the parchment, the only sound the scratching of his quill.

  The test in your pocket burned with anticipation. You reached for it deftly, careful not to make any sudden movements so as not to disturb Severus. Your fingers grasped it and pulled it out slowly, you shot a glance in his direction, satisfied that his attention was firmly placed upon his writing. You turned it over and…nothing. You panicked and turned it over, upside down and back to front. The little window that displayed the result was empty- no lines.   “Did you not read the instructions?” Severus called from the other side of the room. You gave him an uneasy look. “It quite clearly states that results disappear after twelve hours.” He hadn’t even looked up from his parchment, or so it seemed. You raced from the living room to the bathroom and plunged your hands into the wastebin in search for the box. He was right, of course he was right. Why wouldn’t he be right? You felt the blood drain from your cheeks as you slowly made your way back down the stairs.   “Idiot.” Severus mumbled, just loud enough for you to hear as you paced the length of the room. What were you to do now? It was Christmas Eve; you couldn’t face going back into the crowds. “I need you to take this to The Leaky Cauldron.” Severus’ deep baritone distracted you from your thoughts as he passed the parchment he had been writing on in your direction. You rose from your chair to take it from him, he had closed it in on itself over and over again until it appeared miniscule in your hand. Some kind of enchantment to dissuade the prying eyes of those unintended to read it, you supposed.     “What is it?” You enquired, turning it over in your fingers. Severus motioned you forward and held his arms out to you.   “You don’t need to know. Help me up.” Severus muttered and as you placed your arms around his back, your chests flush together; you blushed at the close proximity. He placed his hands onto your shoulders and supported himself to a standing position. “I need to go to the toilet.” He took two steps and swayed, he grasped hold of your arm to steady yourself.   “I can apparate us upstairs, Severus.” You stated, he grimaced and placed your arm under his.   “No, I’ll be sick. Help me and I might be able to help you with your problem.” He gave you a strained smirk and you nodded. You wondered what he could mean as you slowly supported him up the narrow staircase. You waited awkwardly outside of the door for a moment while he relieved himself, you accio’d his duvet and pillow and returned them to his bedroom, taking care to clear up the clothes you had scattered around the floor. When he emerged from the bathroom, you noticed his face was wet. He had attempted to wash his face rather unsuccessfully and you suppressed a laugh. You helped him into bed and pulled the covers over him, he seemed to relax under your care; letting you wipe a warm flannel across his face to remove the stains of his blood and hummed contentedly.   “You can do the rest yourself,” you announced. He opened his eyes and regarded you, “You can piss off if you think I’m going to give you a bath.” He laughed at this, a real smile appeared on his face and you smiled back, it was nice to see.   “Agreed. I can manage for now.” He sighed, “How late are your courses?”   “My courses?” You looked at him quizzically, Severus grimaced and pinched the bridge of his nose.   “Your period, (Y/N). How late?” You blushed again and fiddled with the hem of your shirt, he looked at you expectantly as if he had asked you a question about the ingredients of a potion.   “Two weeks.” You answered, Severus nodded slowly and looked to the ceiling as if in thought.   “Yes, I think I shall be able to help you. Let me sleep for a while, deliver that letter for me and when you come back, we can eat, and we shall get to the bottom of this.” You sighed; you really didn’t want to go back to The Leaky Cauldron.  “Who shall I give it to?”   “Give it to Tom, he’ll see it gets where it needs to go.” Severus replied, his eyes closed again.   “Am I to say who it’s from?” Severus opened one eye and gave you a dark look, he wet his lips and frowned.   “Obviously.”

*******

  You hesitated before pushing open the door to The Leaky Cauldron, it was midday, and the pub was filled yet again with people making merry. You fought your way to the bar and waited to catch the attention of the young witch behind it, your neck craned in each direction to catch a glimpse of her. She appeared finally, two large trays of glasses hovering behind her as she began to rearrange the glassware behind the bar.   “Excuse me!” You said as you waved your hand, she noticed you and gave you a smile.   “Oh, hiya!” She said warmly, “Can I get you a drink?”   “No thank you,” You replied, “Is Tom available?”   “He certainly is,” A voice behind you said, you whirled round to be met with Tom’s smiling face. “Can I help you, miss?”   “Yes actually, I was told to give you this.” You showed him the tiny piece of folded parchment, Tom’s eyes flashed from it to yours and gave you a concerned look.   “Is this from…”   “Severus Snape, yes. He told me you’d know what to do with it.” You levelled, he took it from your hand and placed it into the pocket of his shirt.   “I assume there must be a reason why he sent you and not delivered it himself.” Tom replied with a raised eyebrow, you refused to let your mind wander to the events from the night before.   “Yes, but it’s not for me to say so- can I leave it with you?”   “Of course, I’ll see to it that everything is in order, tell him.” Tom replied, “Merry Christmas, miss.”   “Merry Christmas, Tom.” You watched as he withdrew into the crowd, you turned to the witch behind the bar. “Merry Christmas.” You smiled, she offered you a grin in return and waved her hand.   “Merry Christmas.” She replied cheerfully.

  You didn’t want to go into Diagon Alley, but your feet carried you over the cobbled stones to the dismay of your heart. Despite the growing tensions in the wizarding world, the wonky street was abuzz with people; not unlike the shoppers you had seen in Piccadilly Circus with Pansy. There was a long queue outside of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes and you smiled sadly as you approached the window. The display you had spent so long working on looked magnificent, snow fell from behind the glass and tiny enchanted swans swam in a small lake, surrounded by miniature fur trees and families of deer.     “Penny for your thoughts?” You noticed Fred’s reflection in the glass appear next to you. You wrapped your arms around him and squeezed tightly.   “I thought you’d still be at The Burrow!” You exclaimed, he laughed and hugged you back. You pulled away and looked into his face, he looked well and cheerful. You had learned the differences between him and George over time, subtle though they were.   “Well somebody’s got to be here to run the shop,” Fred said as he gestured to the busy building, “I’m going back tonight.” You nodded in understanding and he placed your hand in the crook of his arm. “Fancy a walk?”

  Fred led you passed the bustle of the shops and back towards the apparation point.   “You okay, Freddie?”   “Yeah yeah,” He answered quietly, it must be difficult for him to see you- to know what had transpired between you and George. “Look, I don’t want to bombard you with questions or anything, (Y/N). But I need to know; is that you and George done? You left things so up in the air with him, and he’s putting on a brave face don’t get me wrong but…he’s my brother, and I can tell he’s hurting.” You bit your bottom lip, you hated to think about George in pain; but you just weren’t ready to talk about things.   “No, Fred. We’re not done…but he really hurt me, he said some awful things to me; accused me of terrible things and it’s going to take some time for me to be ready to have a conversation about it. Let alone forgive him.” You paused and wiped away a tear that fell onto your cheek. “I suppose I just never expected he could be like that. It surprised me.”   “Bloody surprised us all mate. When George came flying down to the shop floor after you left, ranting and raving- I’d never seen that side of him before. And Merlin, when Snape arrived at mum’s with Mundungus Fletcher, I thought he would wind up with a wand suspension the way he was trying to hex Mundungus.” Fred exhaled with a small laugh, you matched it with a smile. “He’s a good bloke, (Y/N). You mean everything to him. Believe me, I’ve had to share a room with him for the best part of two decades. If you’re not ready to talk about anything, can I at least tell him I saw you today and what you said? I’m sure it’ll make him feel loads better if he knew you hadn’t, you know, broken up with him without him realising.” You considered it for a moment, if Fred told George he had seen you today; it might make him want to find you. He had really respected your space so far and you were grateful for it, but the thought of making Fred keep something like this from his brother was too big of an ask. Plus, you were also keeping a huge secret from him, but you couldn’t tell Fred before you told George- it wasn’t right.   “Yeah, of course, Freddie. Tell him, you can also tell him Merry Christmas and that…I love him.” Fred made a gagging noise and you smacked him on the arm. “I need to go.” You pulled Fred in for one last hug and squeezed enough for him and George. He chuckled as you walked to the apparation point and gave him a big wave goodbye.

*******

  Severus stayed upstairs all afternoon and well into the evening. You couldn’t blame him though, it looked as though he had been through a massive ordeal and he needed time to recover, you couldn’t begrudge him that. You found a magical cooking book in one of the cupboards and coupled with some of the food you had bought at the supermarket, you managed to cook a reasonably tasty meal. Severus made comments about the quality of the steak, but you expected nothing less. You suspected it was only to save face though, as twice when he thought you weren’t looking, you saw him close his eyes and savour the taste of the food. You had served him in his meal in bed, he had managed to prop himself up on the pillows and you sat at the foot of the bed. It seemed quite personal really, but you found yourself savouring the intimate moments you shared with him. It made you feel like he did actually care for you, as more than an ex pupil, as a friend. He asked you about The Leaky Cauldron, who you spoke to, how you got home. After a moment, you felt brave.   “Who did this to you, Severus?” Severus sighed and passed his empty plate over to you.   “Nobody.”   “I find that extremely hard to believe. I need to know if I’m in danger.” You asked him earnestly, he met your gaze with a softness you seldom saw from the man.   “You’re in no more danger now than you have been in the last three days. Please don’t concern yourself with my welfare.” He answered, you suspected he intended to seem sterner than he came across. You wondered if he couldn’t muster the energy to chastise you.   “It’s a bit difficult to do that when I have to take you to the loo every time you want a piss.”   “You’re vile.”     “Pot, kettle, black. I found your blood in my ear this morning. That’s vile.” You laughed and he managed a laugh too. “I’m just glad I was here when you arrived last night.”   “Whether you were here or not, I would have gotten inside one way or another.” He levelled nonchalantly.   “Would it really be so horrendous to just say ‘thank you’?” You let out an exasperated sigh and flopped backwards on the bed. He eyed you with annoyance, but you could tell it was fleeting.   “Yes, actually. For me anyway.”     “Well I’m not surprised. You’re just annoyed I’m working off my debt to you.” You winked and rolled from the bed, you picked up your used plates and took them downstairs.

    You returned when he called for you. You held two glasses of port in your hands and found him in his study.   “When did you get in here?” You asked with a smile, pleased to see him on his feet, if not slightly unsteady.   “I am an enigma of a man, (Y/N). I wouldn’t expect your tiny brain to even begin to comprehend me.” Severus answered with a smirk, you passed him the glass and he raised it to his lips and drank deeply. “Delicious.” It was then you noticed the cauldron bubbling contentedly on his desk. You wandered over to it and inspected the shimmering, iridescent silver liquid, it smelled foul; like rotten eggs and you recoiled.   “What the fuck is that?” You demanded as you covered your nose. Severus had his back to you; he ran a finger along one of the shelves which held bottles of all shapes and sizes and plucked a large green bottle with a jade lid. You watched as he carefully unscrewed the top and dropped a tiny drop of the liquid onto a sprig of lavender. The flowers wilted instantly, and he dropped the whole thing into the cauldron. A great lilac cloud erupted from the cauldron and dissipated as Severus waved his hand.   “This, (Y/N) is a pregnancy test.” Severus replied with a satisfied smile. He beckoned you over to the desk and you sighed as the smell had gotten progressively worse with the addition of the lavender. The liquid had changed from its silver to a dark burgundy, it still held its iridescence as it bubbled.   “Is this what they use in St. Mungo’s?”   “Merlin no, they use a potion so convoluted there you could have had the baby by the time you receive an answer.” Severus sniffed, “This is Enfantin Inventim, it’s old. Really, very old. They stopped using this in everyday practise about three hundred years ago. It’s notoriously difficult to prepare and can often lead to an incorrect result.”   “Should we use it then? If it can give an incorrect result?” You asked anxiously, the last thing you needed was to wait another day. You needed to get on with your life, one way or the other.   “Do you think I would prepare something that would achieve anything other than one-hundred-percent accuracy?” Severus snapped. He had a point; he was a potions master for a reason.   “Okay, what do I do?”   “It isn’t pleasant, (Y/N). Do you trust me?” You considered it for a moment and then nodded, he offered his hand to you, you took it and he pulled you towards him forcefully. Severus winced with the effort and forced your hand open. He quickly drew a pearl-encrusted dagger across the length of your palm, easily opening the flesh. You howled in pain and tried to pull your hand back, Severus clasped it into a fist and squeezed tightly. Blood began to fall from you hand and he brought it over the cauldron, the potion drank your blood hungrily and after you parted with ten drops, the potion began to cloud over.  

  “Stand back.” He commanded, he gave you a scrap of cloth and you pressed it hard into the palm of your hand. “If the liquid turns white, you’re pregnant. If it turns black, you’re in the clear.”   “How long do we have to wait?” You whispered and closed your eyes.   “Not long.” In that moment, you wished George were by your side. He would know exactly what to say, and even if he didn’t, he would make you laugh. You imagined his hand around your waist and his lips pressed to your head in a gentle kiss.   “Severus. If I am…you know. What do I do?”   “I imagine what women have done for a millennia-”   “No, what I mean is-” You paused, unsure of how he would react. “Do I have a- do I have a choice?”   “Of course you have a choice. I can put you in contact with some discreet mediwitches. They’re friendly and would have you sorted in no time.” “Okay.”

  You waited for what seemed an age. You tended to your wounded hand and shot a scowl in Severus’ direction when he likened it to a scratch compared to his. The cauldron continued to bubble, it produced green smoke and spat out occasionally. You couldn’t take it anymore. Severus stirred it dutifully and you told him you’d be back in a moment, trapsing your way to the bathroom. You paced back and forth frantically. You couldn’t stand the waiting idly by, you had fashioned a bandage for your hand out of the cloth and some rolled up toilet paper when you caught your reflection in the mirror. You moved towards it and placed your hands gently on the sink underneath it.   “You need to sort your fucking life out, (Y/N).” You said to your reflection, you stared deeply into your own face. Hardly even recognising the person reflected back to you.   “(Y/N)!” You heard Severus shout from the study. “It’s done.” You supressed the bile that rose in your throat and took a deep breath. You stepped uneasily back into the room to see Severus’ neutral face waiting for you. He stood with his hands behind his back.   “Have you looked?”   “Yes.”   “What is it?”   “For fucks sake, have a look.” He snapped; he shook his head with a scowl as you inched toward the cauldron. Your hands trembled as you peered down into the now still liquid. It was black. The liquid was black.   “It’s-”   “Black.” He answered with a smile.   “I’m-”   “Not. Pregnant.”

  You cried out a tremendous cry of relief. Big tears rolled down your cheeks as you moved to Severus in two swift movements and threw your arms around his shoulders. He swayed with surprise.   “Ow. Careful.” He murmured before he patted you awkwardly on the back. When you pulled away, you beamed triumphantly up at him and he returned your smile. “You can thank me by releasing me.” You complied with a laugh, a genuine laugh. You felt like a weight had been lifted from your chest, you breathed easier than you had done in weeks.   “Thank you, Severus. I suggest you stop being nice to me or I’ll forever feel indebted to you.” You laughed, you noticed Severus’ expression alter slightly. “What? What did I say?”   “I feel like I haven’t been quite honest with you.” Severus said quietly, “Don’t interrupt me, just let me finish, yes?” You nodded and took a step back. You waited patiently for Severus to speak, he seemed to mull the words over before he was satisfied.   “You asked me a while ago whether I’m this involved with all of my old student’s lives, and I think we both know the answer to that. When I returned to Malfoy Manor after I took you to The Burrow, your father took me to one side.” You eyed him suspiciously as he wet his lips before continuing, “He knew what I had done and asked for a favour.”   “Of course he did.”   “Shut up, I’m not finished. He asked me if would be able to keep an eye on you, he knew I had connections almost everywhere, and he wanted reports of your whereabouts. And I agreed.” You stared unblinking at Severus. “He offered monthly payments if I could tell him where you were going, what you were doing, who you were seeing etcetera.” Severus squared his shoulders and took a sip of his port. “He just wanted to know you were safe.”   “So he paid you to spy on me?”   “In essence, yes. I never accepted the money though.” Severus levelled, you covered your eyes with your good hand and sighed.   “That’s why you let me stay in your house.” Severus nodded grimly and gestured for you to sit. You did so and chewed on your lip. You felt a multitude of emotions, not one of them good.   “There is one more thing, (Y/N). That night in The Leaky Cauldron where Mundungus saw you and I for the first time. He was there on my orders.” Your mouth fell agape. No, no absolutely not, that couldn’t be. Severus couldn’t possibly have ordered the hurt that Mundungus inflicted. You stared at him again, stony faced as tears began to trickle down your cheek.   “I heard you though, I followed you into the alleyway when you confronted him.” You said feebly, your lip quivered.   “I know, I made sure you would hear so not to suspect me. I was annoyed at him though, that was never part of the plan. He went rogue, so to speak.”

  A heavy silence descended between the pair of you. Severus, his usual staidness reduced to slumped shoulders and a guilty expression. There was a plethora of things you wanted to say, questions you wanted to ask him, but you couldn’t find the words. He finished his port and hobbled out of the room, your heard him enter the bathroom. You sat still, positively unable to process everything he had told you. Was there anything in your life that you held control over? When he appeared in the doorway, his face was ashen with pain and a thin layer of sweat appeared on his brow.   “Do you have any cigarettes?” You asked him slowly. He nodded and pointed downstairs, you pushed passed him and retrieved them from his discarded coat. You carried the remainder of the bottle of port back with you and sat on the floor. Severus moved slowly passed you and collapsed into the chair, the evidence of his exertion etched into his face. You filled his glass with the ruby liquid and then pressed the bottle to your lips and took three deep swigs. He raised an eyebrow as if to complain but thought better of it.   “Did you ever care about me, Severus? Because if it isn’t already clear, I care about you.” You pulled a cigarette out of the packet and lit it, you threw the packet into Severus’ lap, a little harder than you intended. He winced and lit his own cigarette.   “Of course I care.” You scoffed and took another swig from the bottle.   “And are you going to tell him about this? My father?” You pointed to the cauldron full of Enfantin Inventim. Severus shook his head and took a sip.   “No, I did this for you.”   “Why should I believe you?”   “You don’t have to, I suppose. I can’t force you.”

  You were silent again after that, you took long drags of your cigarette until the heat became too much as it reached the filter and burned your lip. You finished off the port and dropped the stub into the now empty bottle. Severus didn’t remove his eyes from your face, as if he were waiting for you to explode. You had every right to, you could go and punch walls and kick holes in doors, but what would that achieve?   “I’m trying really hard to be angry at you.” You whispered. Severus’ look of surprise almost took you off guard.   “And?”   “I can’t.” Severus sighed and slipped further into the chair, he finished his cigarette and beckoned for the empty bottle. He dropped the stub in slowly, his face contorted with pain as he stretched. You watched as he did his usual action of wetting his lips, his tell-tale sign that he was about to speak.   “I do care about you, (Y/N). There’s a goodness in you that one doesn’t always see when they’re brought up in the circles we frequent. I’m satisfied knowing I played my part in ensuring you got out of it all. You remind me very much of somebody I knew a long time ago, someone I wished I could have done more to help, but it wasn’t within my power. This, on the other hand, was very much within my capabilities. I’m not sorry.” His face settled into a frown and you sighed with exasperation.   “Fucks sake.” You muttered, you rose from your spot on the floor and made your way to Severus. You dipped your head and gave him a chaste kiss on the cheek. “You’re an arsehole.”   “Believe me, (Y/N). That is one of the tamer names I have been called in my time.” He smiled ruefully and found your hand and gave it a squeeze.   “If I ask you a question, will you promise to answer it honestly?” You asked, you saw the faintest hint of humour flash across his eyes.   “I shall try.”   “Was it the Dark Lord who hurt you last night?” He looked at you thoughtfully, a smile tugged at his lips. Severus lifted his chin and placed a finger on it and brushed it over his lips.   “Yes.” You didn’t quite know what to do with the information, you weren’t quite sure why you asked the question. You simply nodded and gave him a gentle pat on the shoulder. “Please don’t worry about me, (Y/N). I know what I’m doing.”   “Still.” Severus shrugged, he looked to the clock on the wall and then out of the window into the night.   “If you leave now, you could make it to The Burrow by midnight. Bring in Christmas with your loved ones.” He said quietly, you wondered if you saw the slightest twinge of remorse on his face. You cocked your head to the side.   “You want me to go?”   “I think we both know it’s time for you to, what’s the expression, ‘get your shit together.’” You snorted and threw your head back as you laughed.   “You could come with me, if you like; to The Burrow?” Severus shook his head, his hands outstretched in front of him.   “No thank you, I prefer my own company.”   “What will you do? Will you be okay if I go?”   “I have weathered much more serious casualties than this one by myself. I shall be fine. I will travel back to Hogwarts in the morning ready for my Christmas Dinner.”   “Are you sure?”   “Go,” Severus stated with a small smile, “Get out of my house.”

******

  It was five to midnight when you knocked on the door to The Burrow. You didn’t want to just burst in, just in case they were asleep or busy with family time. Your fingers flew to your neck where the intricate choker your father had sent you sat at the base of your throat; it was a special occasion after all. You knocked again and stood back to take a look at the house. There were a few lights still on even at this late hour, you strained to hear any noises on the other side of the wood and were about to knock for a third time when the door flew open. Ginny stood in fluffy red pyjamas, wand raised and a look of shock on her face. You launched yourself at her and she you, you engulfed each other in a vice like hug.   “I knew you’d come.” She whispered, “George is going to wet himself.” She led you through the house where only Molly, Ginny and Ron sat by the fireplace in the living room. Molly clasped her hands to her mouth as she struggled to get out of her chair quickly.   “Oh! My dear!” She said as she tottered toward you, she pulled you close to her chest and rocked you back and forth. “I am so happy you’re here; we can finally celebrate now.”   “Please don’t, you’re going to make me cry.” You said as Molly pulled away and placed a warm hand to your cheek.   “Welcome home.” She whispered. “I’ll put the kettle on.”

  The sound of feet thundering down the rickety staircase made you jump, Ginny arrived breathlessly at the bottom and George immediately behind her dressed in his pyjamas. Your eyes met across the expanse and you opened your arms to him. He crossed to you in a flash and placed two hands on your face and pressed his lips hungrily to yours. You tossed your arms around his neck, and his arms moved down your body and hugged your waist. You pressed your forehead to his and sighed.   “Merry Christmas.” You breathed; a whisper of a smile played at George’s lips.   “Merry Christmas.” He replied, he laced his fingers with yours and beamed at you. “Do you want to go for a walk?”

  Most of the snow had melted in the fields surrounding The Burrow, and you were grateful for it as George almost dragged you along a beaten path to a wooden bench under a tree, a good quarter of a mile away from the house. He pressed a hand to the seat and shrugged;   “It’s not wet, just cold.”   “I can handle cold.” You sat close to him on the bench, his arm around your shoulders as you both gazed up into the crisp night sky. There was something about the way the stars looked from here, like you could reach out and touch them. Lonely clouds like tiny whisps of smoke littered the sky occasionally, and you took turns in those moments where the stars weren’t visible in giving the other a kiss.   “Merlin, I missed you.” George said into your hair, he stroked the side of your face with a gloved finger and you melted into his touch. “I’m so sorry, (Y/N).”   “There’ll be plenty of time to talk about it, George, but I need to tell you something.” You replied, his gaze softened as he placed another tender kiss to your lips. You sighed contentedly at the feeling of warmth that spread through you, you were home. He squared his shoulders and shifted slightly on the bench, so to face you more.

  He listened intently whilst you told him of everything since you had last seen him. He nodded and occasionally asked the odd question like; “Was the inside of Snape’s house full of bodies?” and “God, I can’t believe you slept in his bed. Was it a coffin?” The only thing you neglected to tell him was of Severus’ attack, you didn’t know how deep the waters were that surrounded his area of his life and you didn’t feel like it was your place to share that information. When you told him of your pregnancy scare, his eyes widened, and his jaw clenched.   “(Y/N),” He said sternly, “You should have told me straight away. That’s not fair.”   “I know love, I feel awful about it. That’s one thing I’m truly sorry for, George. I promise not do anything like it again.” He nodded, seemingly content with that and kissed the tip of your nose. You began to tell him of the plot your father had embroiled Severus in, and George’s hands clenched into fists.   “That fucking snake.” George muttered, “How are you not furious?”   “Believe me, I tried to be,” You answered, “We talked about it and I decided there’s more important things to be worried about. I don’t blame him for what he did and neither should you, okay?”   “Fine. But I’m not happy about it.”   “I’ll take it.”

  When you climbed into bed that night, it was nearly two in the morning. The rest of the house was sound asleep as you and George became reacquainted. His hands found themselves tangled in your hair and you moaned quietly as he pulled softly, his mouth lathering your neck in kisses.   “Fuck, I’ve missed the sounds you make.” George breathed into your ear, you tipped your head back and found his mouth with yours. His hands travelled from your hair down to your hips, he pulled you close, and you felt his already hard member as it pushed against his boxers. You brought a hand down and cupped it, he hissed at the contact and bucked his hips forward. “Please let me fuck you, (Y/N). It’s been too long.”   “Yes, oh, fuck yes. Do it, George.”

  He wasted no time in pushing your knickers over your bum, and you wiggled frantically in an attempt to free yourself from them. He pulled his boxers down and climbed between your legs, he rubbed his cock against your folds and spat into his hand, rubbing it along his shaft for extra lubrication. When he pushed into you, you moaned together. It was like for one split second, the earth stopped. Everything stopped. You could hear your heartbeat in your eyes as you pulled George’s head down to kiss his lips. You ran your tongue along his bottom lip, and he shuddered. He rolled his hips against yours, and you grasped onto his shoulders tightly. George pulled out almost completely, before he pushed into you again; fully sheathed inside you. He did this three more times before you cried out;   “Please! I can’t take it anymore!” With a growl, George thrusted hard. His hips snapped backwards and forwards at intense pace, he lifted your legs above his shoulders, allowing him to bury himself deeper within you. You gasped at the sensation of being utterly filled by him, your brow furrowed as you struggled to keep your moans quiet. He continued this pace, his cock now slick with your juices as you bit down hard on the back of your hand. He pushed back slightly and reached a hand in between your legs, parting them slightly as he began to furiously rub your clit. Your eyes rolled back into your head as overwhelming pulses of pleasure coursed through your veins, you moved your hips with his, suddenly desperate for release. George let your legs fall from his shoulders as he grasped your hips, moving you with ease along his throbbing cock. You groaned, as George pressed harder against your mound, drawing from you a string of curses as you trundled towards your orgasm.   “Fuck, I’m going to come, George.” The surprise in your voice was palpable, the swiftness in which George was going to make you come was incredible. You panted hard against his shoulder as with a grunt, his nimble fingers rubbed you to completion, his cock hitting the delicious spot inside you. As you reached the peak of your high, George followed. He groaned as your walls tightened around him and he spilled his seed deep into your quim.   “Sorry,” George breathed, “I couldn’t hold on any longer.” You smiled and kissed him, it was tender and held every ounce of love you had for him. He deepened the kiss, rolling his tongue around with yours as his hand cupped your breast. “I’m going to fuck you so hard as soon as we get to the flat, you won’t be able to walk for a week.”   “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Georgie.” You smirked, he tweaked your nipple between his fingers and brought his mouth close to your ear, his voice deathly low.   “I’m going to make you come, over and over again. You’re going to beg me to stop. Then I’ll fuck you, I’ll fuck you the way you ought to be fucked. Rough and hard because naughty girls don’t get fucked nicely.”

  Your skin flushed with heat as he nibbled at your earlobe, desire already building between your legs. You cast a look to George, who looked about two seconds away from falling asleep and giggled.   “Do you want to be the little spoon?” You asked, he didn’t answer, instead he rolled his body away from you and faced the wall. He pushed his bum out and you gave it a playful slap.   “Don’t get any ideas.” He muttered and you grinned as you wrapped your arm around his middle. He laced his fingers with yours and hummed contentedly as the room gave way to the quiet of the house.   “I’m so happy you came back.” George whispered; his voice heavy with tiredness.   “Me too. I love you.” You replied with a yawn.   “Love you too.”

  George complained the entire way back to the flat. He had insisted on carrying your bags plus gifts you had received over Christmas, including but limited to; a lovely scarf Molly had painstakingly kitted for you and a hilariously ruffled gilet for George. You couldn’t help but grin consistently as you walked ahead of him up the back stairs to the entrance of the flat, his hat had slipped over his eyes and he lost his footing. Your suitcase lurched backwards, it manged to bump comically every step before it lay still at the bottom of the stairs.   “Right!” George announced, he dropped the rest of the bags and grabbed hold of your hips. You yelped in surprise as George hoisted you over his shoulder, fireman style and proceeded up the rest of the stairs. He near enough kicked the front door open and moved swiftly through the flat and into your shared bedroom, he ignored your giggled protestations and flung you down onto the bed. He was on top of you in an instant, his knee pushed your legs apart and his mouth descended onto your throat. He sucked and nibbled at the sensitive skin and began undoing the buttons of your coat.     “Off.” He ordered as he opened your coat and tugged at the bottom of your jumper. Dutifully, you sat up and removed the offending items of clothing. His gaze was ravenous as he watched as you tucked your hair behind your ears and waited for further instructions. George’s gaze flashed down to your breasts. “Off.” He repeated. You felt your breath hitch in your throat as George removed his own coat and shirt, his hands moved to his belt and he slipped both his jeans and boxers from his body, his already hard cock sprung against his stomach as you followed suit. You threw your jeans across the room and your knickers next.

 “So beautiful,” George commented as he ran a featherlight touch across your cheek. “Such a good girl.” You melted into George’s ghost like touch and shuddered. You kept your eyes on him as he brought a hand down to his cock and rubbed along the length slowly. “Touch yourself, (Y/N) I want to see you make yourself come.” Your eyes widened with shock for a moment before a smile crept across your mouth and you brought your hands to your breasts. Was it a show he was after? Then a show he would get. You placed your fingers on each of your hardened nipples and tugged slightly, your lips parted slightly at the sensation. You heard George as he took a sharp intake of breath as he gripped the head of his cock. You trailed one hand slowly down your body and shuffled down the bed as you lay your shoulders back onto the covers. You reached your throbbing cunt and spread your legs wide for George to see, he moaned as you brought your fingers over your clit and rubbed a sweeping circle of it.   “That’s it,” George moaned, “Let me see you- oh! Good girl.” You watched as George began to pump himself faster, your name fell from his lips as you plunged two fingers between your slick folds. You matched George’s pace as you fucked yourself with your fingers, you closed your eyes and fisted the sheets with your free hand. Pleasure built within you as with each pulse of your fingers, you found your sweet spot. “Come quickly, (Y/N). I want to see how fast you can come.”

  You took your fingers out of your entrance and brought them now coated in your juices and recommenced the rubbing of your clit. You moaned as you rubbed tantalisingly quick circles on the electrified pearl between your legs. Your toes curled as you felt your orgasm build in the pit of your stomach, you moaned, and George answered it with a moan of his own. Your hips bucked from the bed as you pressed harder with each swipe of your fingers until you came, it was fantastically intense and your voice, thick with desire called out for George.   “Come here.” He demanded once you had recovered. His cock was impossibly hard and almost screamed for attention as you crawled slowly over to where he sat. George placed a hand on your head as you took him in your mouth, you placed a tender kiss to the tip and licked the little drops of precum that had gathered there. He sighed as you pushed your lips down the length of hi and relaxed your throat, allowing him a small thrust. His gentle hand became a fist in your hair as he pulled you back, almost pulling you away from his cock; but your hand reached around the base of him and began to pump him. Your tongue swirled around his tip and George’s head rolled back as you wrapped your lips around him and swallowed. You found a rhythm and George’s hand on your head helped you keep time; you could see the muscles in his thighs tense as you hummed around him.   “Fuck. That feels good. Such a good girl.”

  At George’s praise, you sucked him faster, hollowing your cheeks and your grip around his shaft tightened. George’s hips began to lift off the bed as he thrust into your mouth. There was nothing you loved more in this world than to feel this man come undone under your hand, you moaned against him and he slid further into your throat. That was enough for George, who parted with four thick spurts with a cry of pleasure. You swallowed it up and wiped your mouth, you pulled away and gently massaged your aching jaw. You watched the rise and fall of George’s chest as he recovered from his orgasm, arm slung over his eyes.   “I love you.” You whispered, you felt tears sting your eyes and you sniffed. George sat up and looked at you, his face etched with concern.   “I love you too, what’s the matter?” He asked, he pulled you close and bundled you into his arms. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, and you nuzzled your face against his neck.   “Nothing, nothing. I’m just so happy.” George chuckled and hugged you tighter, you popped a leg over his and hummed as happy tears fell from your eyes.   “Me too.”

**********

  “No, those need to go to the stockroom, Fred. I’m not having them cluttering up the flat. There’s already zero room in here as it is.” You gestured around you to the boxes of stock that stood tall in your tiny living room.   “Right, and I’m telling you there’s nowhere to put them. We need more space.” Fred sighed and placed the box full of love potions on the floor. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. Angelina appeared from behind a tower of boxes, her face aghast as Fred opened his arms to her. He placed a kiss on her shoulder.   “We’re drowning in all this.” She said, you shook her head at you; a silent communication that the boys had finally lost the plot.   “What do we need to do?” George called from the doorway, he levitated three coffee’s behind him as he held a beautiful bouquet of flowers in his hand, a bottle of champagne in the other. You grinned as he rushed to you, he presented the flowers to you and you sniffed them gratefully. Roses, lily’s and daisies. Your favourite.   “They’re beautiful, George! Thank you!” You placed a loving kiss to his cheek and traced a lily petal delicately with your finger as George put the champagne in the fridge.   “Congratulations my love! And happy second anniversary.” He wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you in for a hug.   “This mine?” Angelina asked, she pointed at one of the three coffees suspended behind George’s shoulder.  “Oh yeah sorry, Ange. This one’s yours love.” George smiled and dished the coffees out; Angelina gave George a warm smile of thanks as you sipped happily.   “Where’s mine?” Fred demanded; George patted his pockets sarcastically.    “You weren’t here, mate.” He shrugged, Fred huffed and turned his attention to you.   “Congratulations I suppose, (Y/N). Still think you’re wasting your time being a Healer.” Fred said, Angelina wasted no time smacking his stomach.   “You think I’m wasting my time being a Healer…as we’re about to go into war?” You said, despite the seriousness of your words, a smile tugged at your lips as you knew Fred was just sorry to lose you from the shop. You had spent the last year and a half revising your arse off to be fast-tracked through the training programme. It was the only way you could think of to give back an inch of the kindness you had received. You had received your lime green robes this morning, an immensely proud moment indeed.   “All I’m saying is, you could have been junior assistant manager. I had the badge made for you and everything.”   “Ignore him, (Y/N).” Angelina said as she rolled her eyes, “We’re all really proud of you. Well done, babe.” You handed George the flowers and tossed your arms around Angelina’s neck for a hug.   “Thank you, Ange. What did I ever do without you to help reign dear Freddie in?” You laughed and she laughed with you.   “Think there’s anyway we can back out, Georgie?” Fred whispered dramatically to George who just grinned ruefully.   “Not a chance.”   “Too fucking right. You’re stuck with us now.” Angelina replied, an arm slung round your shoulders. “We still need to work out what to do with these boxes.”   “There’s no room for them in here.” George offered, he waved his wand over your flowers and they arranged themselves beautifully in a vase.   “No,” Angelina agreed, “I think we all know this flat isn’t big enough for four people, couples or not.” You nodded and made your way back to George, he hoisted himself up onto the kitchen counter and you settled between his legs.   “What are you thinking?” Fred asked his girlfriend; Angelina shrugged and sipped her coffee.   “We were thinking,” You replied, “Turning this upstairs flat into a staff room and overflow stockroom. You’re selling so much, so obviously have to have the stock to sell. There just isn’t room for us in here anymore. Plus, I’m pretty sure the staff would love to be able to come up here and have an actual cup of tea on their breaks.”   “We think we should move.” Angelia said, “Separately.” She added softly. George’s hand stiffened around your waist. You wished that Angelina had waited a day or two before dropping the bombshell, but the pair you had spent the last month speaking of little else. You and George needed your own space, and Fred and Angelina needed theirs as much.   “You want us to move away from each other?” Fred asked incredulously, you offered him a small smile.   “Not exactly.”

**********

  The portkey dropped you in the middle of a field. You were on your lunch break and only had half an hour before you needed to be back at St. Mungo’s. George looked stressed as he straightened his tie, you could tell he was nervous. You took his clammy hand in yours and gave it a squeeze.   “You okay?”   “Yeah,” He replied in a strained voice. “It’s just a lot of money to part with.” You sighed and dragged him in the direction of Fred and Angelina who stood waving at you. You approached them with hello’s and hugs and waited.   “What time’s he meant to be coming?” Fred asked as he checked his watch, you followed suit and checked the upturned watch pinned to your robes. Only twenty minutes left.   “Any minute now.” Angelina asked. You all looked in opposite directions, scouring the grassy horizons for any sight of the man in question. What you didn’t expect, was for him to surprise you from behind.   “You can never expect a group of Gryffindor’s to be on time.” You felt a grin widen across your face as you saw Severus fold his arms across his chest.   “Excuse me, I’m one of yours.” You replied, he shook your hand rather formally but gave you a brief wink as he dropped two sets of keys into George’s hand.   “Is it all sorted?” George asked the potions master, Severus nodded.   “Yes, I watched them as they signed the paperwork this morning. All in your names now, though I don’t see why you had to have me do it. I’m very busy.”   “Because I don’t trust anybody else.” You countered, “I needed to be one-hundred-percent sure my parents wouldn’t try any funny business.”   “They were quite happy to get rid of these cottages if you ask me. They have no need for them anymore, especially given that they’ve sold the house in Rouen.” Severus said, he looked up at the old stone walls of the two cottages.   “The price of war, I suppose.” Fred quipped; Severus cocked an eyebrow but ultimately smirked in agreement. You broke away from George and the others and placed your arm through Severus’, wandering a few steps.   “Thank you again, I really appreciate that.” You whispered; your heads close together. Severus placed a hand on top of yours and patted it softly. “Are you still coming for lunch on Sunday? It’s my only day off this week.”   “Are you cooking?”   “No, George is.”   “Yes, I shall arrive at twelve.”

  You waved as Severus made off into the distance, when there was no longer any sight of him. Angelina turned to you, and then back out to the cottages. A pair of great stone cottages with an adjoining garden stood before you. That had been built hundreds of years ago by twin farmers who tended the surrounding fields. They were acquired by your parents in the sixties; and now were to make new homes for you and George, Fred and Angelina. It was fitting really that another pair of twins would live in them all those years later, making new memories.   “How long have you got before you need to be back at the hospital?” George whispered into your ear. You glanced down at your watch.   “Fifteen minutes.”   “Plenty of time.” He breathed, George grabbed your hand and dragged you laughing towards the front door of your cottage. The door slammed behind you as he placed a hungry kiss to your lips. His hands where everywhere at once, slipping your robes over your head and grunting in your ear.   “This is our house, (Y/N). I want to hear how loud you can be.”

Of course, you complied; you wanted everybody to know that you were his, forever.

[rae-gar-targaryen]

only as alone as i wanna be | [bh]

A/N: Well instead of working on my Peter Parker writing challenge fic, Billy Hargrove won’t leave my brain alone. So here we go. 

I’ve retconned the Billy & Max relationship a bit for this, so it’s a lil au. Sorry!

Please let me know if you think I should continue!

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x fem!Reader (I’m still trying to get the hang of writing for the “reader.” Hopefully this is vague enough that you can imagine yourself. If not, send me feedback so I can get better!) 

Warnings: Language. Passing, vague mentions of sex. Some Billy Hargrove chain-smoking. Bad writing with a jumpy plot. Seriously, I think I’m way too abrupt. Please send feedback. This one is probably doomed for a re-write. 

Word Count: 2.4k of nonsensical, self-important musical references and haphazard, fleeting feelings.

Summary: The snarky record store girl does not like Billy Hargrove. Not at all. 

**NOT MY GIF!** 

—

Winter, 1984

The bell dinged above the door, a jarring interval between the wistful tones of Siouxsie and the Banshees’ Take Me Back. Prompting you to look up from your stack of records in mild annoyance. It had been such a productive day until now, and the vinyl wasn’t going to restock itself. 

Well. 

Had you known Mr. Born-In-The-USA-Bruce-Springsteen himself was going to walk in, you would’ve played something far less his taste than Siouxsie. Just to annoy him. Serves him right, right? 

He paused in the doorway of the shop, wrinkling his nose almost imperceptibly as the sound hit his ears, before striding on toward the “Pop/Rock” section of the store, thumbing his way through Motley Crue’s latest.

Figures, you thought. A man who douses himself with as much commercial-ass hairspray and cologne would like some commercial-ass garbage “metal.” Besides, you’d walked past the blue Camaro enough times in the school parking lot to hear the dulcet tones of whatever bland-ass hair metal he was currently into trying its best to blast the doors off of his beloved metal steed. 

You felt a twinge of guilt. You shouldn’t judge the customers for their musical taste so quickly– but between the old church ladies who came in for Handel’s Messiah or whatever they had heard over public radio that week, and the girls from your class riffing on Madonna, you had had just about enough. 

Hadn’t anyone experienced the true depth of Queen? Keep Yourself Alive, man!

You had been working at Hawkins’ local record store during the summers since childhood – Old Mr. Cohen who owned the place used to let you sort tapes into piles for cents on the hour until you were old enough for a real job. Immersed in the music since a young age, you appreciated the breadth and depth the shop had to offer– your favorites developing into pieces heavy on synth. Bonus points if the lyrics made you feel especially existential. You loved that moody shit. 

Now, at 17, you practically ran the place, Mr. Cohen comfortable with leaving you to your devices at the store, so long as the till was counted and inventory was properly stocked. You were grateful for the freedom– squeezing homework into slow nights and chatting about deeper portions of discography with regulars.

Billy Hargrove was not a regular. Neither did he promise a slow night, if the rumors amongst your female classmates were to be believed. Not that you partook in the Hawkins High rumor mill. 

He was a recent, but obtrusive, arrival in your high school’s social scene. Mere months into his appearance in your town and the age-in-kind female population had seemingly lost their brain cells faster than inhaling their usual clouds of hairspray could do it for them. 

Still, you had to admit, he was good-looking. The Springsteen comparison was apt. Billy Hargrove wore jeans like he was doing the denim a favor. His shirts usually two-thirds of the way unbuttoned, even in winter, which was not an unkind sight. His sun-kissed, California boy skin stood a stark contrast to the pallor of the Indiana natives you grew up with. His eyes were crystalline and swam like oceans of trouble and broken promises. 

My god. You were a moody-ass bitch. Waxing poetic about this jock-strap of a human being who you’d heard pummelled Steve Harrington and nearly drowned himself in beer and barely-legal pussy. Come on, babe. Get it together.

He strode up to you at the counter, his boots clunking against the store’s tiled floor. Shout at the Devil was clutched in his fist. 

He dropped the vinyl on the counter, eyes cast down and swiping a cigarette out of the packet in his jacket pocket and lighting up, the clink-thwip of his lighter meeting your ears before you could tell him to put it out. 

“You can’t do that in here,” you told him. 

He hummed in not-acknowledgment-acknowledgment, choosing to ignore you as he inhaled deeply.

“Seriously, dude. Old man Cohen hates that shit. Put it out or go outside and finish it. If your tits don’t freeze off. Since they’re, you know, halfway out of your shirt like that? You do know it’s December. In Indiana. Right?” You pressed, knowing full well you were being obnoxious. If only to make a point. Game recognize game, right? 

He looked up, ocean eyes meeting your own. His frown was instantaneous. 

“Fine,” he huffed. Before promptly stubbing out his cigarette on your freshly wiped counter, dropping the butt to the floor and twisting it under his booted heel.

“Ugh. Come on, man. I have to clean that now.” 

“You were so adamant about it before.” 

“Whatever man. Just the Motley Crue for you today?” You pressed. Why is he prolonging this interaction?

He rolled his eyes, his line of sight catching on the promotional sign above the counter. 

“Well, now, that says new vinyl is two for one. Which one can I get with this?” 

You dropped your head and exhaled deeply– So this was how this evening was going to go. You gestured at the New Release wall to the left of the front counter. 

“Anything from here, Pretty Boy. New vinyl.” 

Cool as you please, if you please.

Billy glanced at you, sensing your annoyance. A smirk graced his lips. He knew if he prolonged this interaction it would surely get a rise out of you.  

He held up Burning From the Inside, Bauhaus’s latest release. New, but not new.

“What about this one? Cover art is alright.” He gestured at the gothica aesthetic adorning the front jacket.

“That’s Bauhaus,” you informed him, as though that would explain everything.

“Bauhaus? What is that?” 

You snorted. 

“No, seriously. What is that? Is that like … a sex thing?” he asked, derisively. 

“It’s not a sex thing. It’s more of a not-your-kind-of-thing thing,” you stated primly. 

“And how would you know what my thing is, princess? I’m guessing by the black-on-black and torn fishnets you’d be all to familiar with whatever a Bauhaus is,” he retorted.

“Well….” You went to the used pile and grabbed Press Eject and Give Me the Tape, before putting it over the speakers. As Bela Lugosi’s Dead started to play throughout the store, Billy looked unamused. 

“They broke up last year. Gone too soon,” you explained, wistfully. You put your hand over your heart as though in mourning. 

He leaned one arm on the counter, Motley Crue seemingly long forgotten. 

“So, what is this song?”

“Bela Lugosi’s Dead? Like, Stairway to Heaven, but for goths, I guess,” you reasoned. “I’m guessing you’re more of a Scorpions kind of guy? We have Love At First Sting,” you gestured vaguely toward the wall. 

Billy quirked an eyebrow at you. 

“And how would you know what kind of guy I am, princess?” His voice lowering as he leans even further over the counter.

“Um. If the female population at our school is to be believed? Well, you get it…” you trailed off. “Plus, I don’t know, have you looked in a mirror lately? Scratch that. You probably don’t stop looking in mirrors. Should I cover the reflective surfaces in the store, lest you get distracted?” 

Billy at least had the decency to look shocked at your barb. 

But not before recovering quickly. 

“Maybe you just cover the reflective surfaces in here to hide the fact that you don’t have a reflection,” he quipped.

You were stunned. Your eyes widened.

“Was that a– vampire joke, Hargrove?”

Billy shrugged. “Well, If the post-punk bullshit shoe fits… I mean, what even is playing over the speakers right now? I’m in here enough to know Cohen lets his employees pick the music from the Used pile during their shifts. Though clearly I don’t come in often enough during your shifts.”

“Thank God for that,” you sighed. 

Deciding he’d had enough of the banter, Billy snagged Black Flag’s latest off of the New Release wall. 

“Two for one, right?” he snarked, slapping down enough cash for one album before grabbing his findings off of the counter and striding out into the wintery evening– the bell over the door clanging after him for good measure. Like an exclamation point on whatever the ever loving fuck that conversation was. Did you— offend him??

You decided, sweeping up the not-forgotten ash from his cigarette off the floor that you didn’t ever need to have an interaction with Billy Hargrove again. You were most decidedly not post-punk bullshit.

–

Billy Hargrove had never been so ruffled in all of his life. 

Throwing the two vinyl sleeves down in the passenger seat of his beloved Camaro, he slammed the door behind him.

Clink-Thwip.

Billy lit up, the chemical rush of his deep inhale-exhale instantly soothing his frazzled nerves. 

He flicked the lid of his lighter a few more times, for good measure. A nervous habit. Clink-Thunk. Clink-Thunk. Clink-Thunk. 

“ ‘Never stop looking in a mirror,’ my ass,” he grumbled, meeting his eyes in the rear-view before realizing what he was doing and looking away. 

He’d seen that girl before. She sat alone in the cafeteria most times, headphones on, reading a book. She seemed like the type to enjoy Slyvia Plath. Not that he knew enough about Slyvia Plath to really know what that type of girl was. He swore his mom owned a coverworn copy of some novel or another with that name on it. 

He drove away, tires squealing behind him, hair metal blasting from his speakers. Okay, so maybe you’d been right about his musical taste. It’s not like he’d give you the satisfaction. Besides, he’d bought BLACK FLAG, for Christ’s sake. You didn’t know him. 

But still, he couldn’t deny, there was something about your demeanor. Your witticism. Your bad type. And yeah, maybe he’d sneaked a peek at your ass when you came around from the counter to scold him for smoking. Sue him, he was only human. 

He knew there was more to you. A sweet undertone– like peaches and cream. Also maybe he liked ruffling your proverbial feathers. Just maybe. 

He had asked Tommy about you at school the next day. 

Tommy shrugged, but not before looking over at the corner of the cafeteria where you sat. 

“I don’t know man. She’s hot. But, like, in the way weird girls are hot. You can look, but touching may cost you.” 

Billy didn’t know what that meant. But Tommy was literally too stupid to insult. So he bit back a comment effectuating that he didn’t care and slammed the rest of his can of Coke. 

–

You had seen him before. From his tire-squealing entry into your town, you were certain you’d had him pegged from Jump Street. The chain-smoking, that infernal clink-twhip of his American Flag lighter. The keg stands. The raucous screaming in Steve Harrington’s face.

“Plant your feet, Harrington!”

Plant your feet indeed. Lest you be bowled over with unwanted, obtrusive thoughts of the potential depths of Billy Hargrove’s soul. If such a thing existed.

Seriously, though. Why would he buy a Black Flag album? If there was one thing Billy Hargrove was not, you decided, it was punk rock. 

You’d seen him take his sister to the arcade, and wait for her after school. Was it brotherly affection that motivated these little Babysitter’s Club moments, or was he forced to? Still, you saw the way that girl on the skateboard looked up at her seemingly cool older brother. Like he hung the stars. 

He did brush off Tina after the basketball game last week. And, he bought Black Flag. That man had never listened to Black Flag in all of his life. You were sure of it.

Could he really be all bad? 

–

The semester pressed on. Billy Hargrove at the fringe of your thoughts and your eye-line. Was he trying to talk to you in school?

You had the closing shift at the store again on Saturday. You were in the midst of carrying a box of tapes up the stairs from the storage room when you heard the ding of the bell above the door. You sighed, put the box down, and made your way toward the front to greet the customer. Upon seeing the back of Billy Hargrove’s perfectly coiffed, curly head, you were ready to turn back around and act like you hadn’t seen him. Too late. He clearly knew you were working. 

“Please don’t let it be you,” you groaned. 

“No promises, dollface.” 

You stood in front of him, hands on your hips. 

“So? What can I do for you?”

Billy smirked. “I can think of a few things, sweetheart,” he drawled, quirking a perfectly arched brow just so. You hated that you now noticed these things about Billy Hargrove’s perfectly stupid and stupidly perfect face. 

“I don’t have time for this, Pretty Boy.” 

“When are you off?” He asked.

“After close,” you said. 

“Go out with me.” Billy Hargrove said, now surely unsure of himself.

“And why in the ever-loving-fuck would I do that?” You had to hand it to yourself. You were doing a damn good job of looking like you didn’t care. Meanwhile, your insides were pudding and you were just sure he knew it, too.

“Because you want to. Because I want you to. Because– Because I want to. Because I listened to Black Flag. Because I get your whole thing, plaid skirt and all,” he stated, gesturing vaguely over your person. 

You rolled your eyes, choosing not to answer him. Instead, you diverted. Diversion is good, right?

“Where’s your usual crowd of hairsprayed hangers-on? Or are you always alone after school?”

“Only as alone as I wanna be, doll,” He drawled. 

You’d had to hand it to Billy Hargrove. He could definitely turn a phrase when he wanted to. His crystalline eyes could definitely see right through you. As the flush travelled through your body, taking in his artful smirk and powerful visage, you knew:

Billy Hargrove was going to be the death of you. Like the satisfyingly sweet pour of languid waves of syrup cascading over waffles, drowning you in a beautiful, thick avalanche of a saccharine dream. A powdered sugar kiss dusting over your better senses, coating them in the flush of dripping endearment. 

Surely you could be alone together? The crystal ball and the odyssey. 

Would you go?

tagging bc you inspire me:

@nappingtopknot @ayeayecaptaingally @hey-its-grey @tigerlilynoh @andallthatmishigas @oh-star-how-the-mighty-fall @youngmoneymilla @noturjacky  (If you don’t want to be tagged, feel free to ignore, or tell me firmly -- but possibly politely?? to fuck off) 

[thatyanderecritic]

Hi! So I saw a post of you talking about how blank MCs/inserts in yandere written stories typical have no personality because of the nature of being inserts. What would you suggest could be done if someone wanted to write a second-person POV story that is from a semi reader insert perspective. To give the narrating character an actual personality?

To write an MC: Writing Tips with Kai

Hey there anon. Kai here to answer your question. 

If you want the simple answer, it’s pretty obvious: Just give them a personality, duh. It ain’t rocket science. Even if the MC is meant to be a self-insert or relatable to reader, just give them a personality and not make them blank with generic personality traits. Even if the character is so wildly different from how a person may act, most people do a thing called “roleplay”. In that story, they aren’t the “[Y/N]” from IRL but the “[Y/N]”, the baddass assassin (or something like that). 

Now that’s the simple answer. For those who want a more in depth answer, read below the cut.

As stated before, the best way to write a an MC with a second person POV is to actually give them a personality. The only way you could actually pull off a blank MC is if you’re writing for a game. But games fall under a different set of rules. For now, we’re strictly talking about stories/books/ect. (basically a medium that doesn’t allow for the reader to directly influence). 

Authors shouldn’t be try to achieve in making an MC that everyone can self insert in. It is an impossible endeavor and with blank MCs, you’re going to end up appealing to the lowest denominator. And when you think about it, it sounds like you’re a wishy-washy person if you try to make everyone happy by making such an MC (note: I’m not implying that authors who do blank MCs are wishy-washy, I’m just stating that it could come across in such a manner). You’re simply better off appealing to no one and concentrate on telling a good story. And to make a good story, you need to have solid characters. A blank MC isn’t a solid character. 

Personally, I don’t think an author should worry too much of the audience being able to relate or “be” the MC. It’s really not that big of a deal. A majority of people are capable of doing a thing called “roleplaying”. You know, inserting themselves as the character and pretending to be that character. It’s easier to pretend to be a defined person than an empty puppet. In fact, authors should be more concern in making a good roleplaying experience and not “is this MC vague enough?” You may think having a blank MC helps the roleplaying experience, but it isn’t. Here are the reason why:

Blank MCs are typically stupid and make dumb decisions. If I was the reader, I would be wondering, “Is the author insinuating that I’m a stupid person?” There’s also the fact that people would get upset and go, “I would never do such a thing” hence making a disconnect. 

Blank MCs are overly passive and inactive. Due to the fact that authors want to have the MC be everyone, the author can’t predict what everyone would do in a certain scenario. In the end, the “safest” option would be to do nothing. But then that leads to upset readers since practically everyone would at least do something instead of nothing. 

Blank MCs usually only have two traits: nice and clumsy. That’s it. Those are the only two traits. Obviously this is a bland person and really, not everyone is that clumsy… or that naively nice. Some people can be given the illusion that they are this MC with just these factors, but with the combination of just the two, there can be a disconnect and people go, “What’s wrong with this person?”

As you can see, the main issue with blank MCs are the fact that there’s a disconnect. People aren’t puppets. If you simply give a person a body but give them permission to move it, then are you not making that person an unmoving puppet? You’re basically telling people they’re just a wall or a piece of furniture… not a person… especially a person that they know quite intimately: themselves. Having an MC with an actual personality that people can establish, people will have a better attitude. You might be surprised but people can relate to other who aren’t “themselves”. As long as a person can understand the other, then they can put themselves in the other person’s shoes. Instead of pushing “This MC is literally you” try pushing “This MC is you’re role, Mx. Actor”. Even if the character is so completely different from the reader, readers would just be happy if they can just insert their own name. To summarize the audience’s reaction would be this meme:

But if you’re really insistent for a blank MC, the only place that it could work would be video games or interactive fiction (visual novels, chose your own adventure, ect.). The reason why this option works so well with blank MCs is that the reader actually have a say in what the MC does… basically, the reader is filling in the blanks as they move in the story. At this point, the blank MC is given life. But the probably most of the time with this particular case is that author’s miss the point. 

The biggest control freaks of out of all creators would be authors since most options are usually limited or would punish the player if they don’t act how the author wanted them to act. What’s the point in giving options if you’re just going to tell the reader that they think wrong? For example: a reader would get his negative points if they refuse to do something superficial with a love interest; like going out drinking or if they like muffins or not. Why do they get punished if they don’t like muffins??? Doesn’t make any sense. 

The same go for options. Most of the time… the option sucks. It’s either be the “UwU” soft type, the unnecessarily bitchy one (for some reason), or the quite one who’s only dialogue options are “…”. But I guess that how people view others: either the Virgin Mary, Lilith, or a blow up doll. Fuck me, ay?

Just give more reasonable options and don’t punish players/readers over the smallest superficial details. Let a person like a brownie, god damn it. 

Now that we establish the fact of: “Yes, authors should give an MC a personality even if they’re a self insert”, here’s some tips if you want to have a unique personality for your MC-

Don’t let the MC make stupid choices. Kinda obvious but, using the MC’s stupidity as a plot device is over done. I mentioned this before: There’s other sort of conflicts BESIDES the MC’s stupidity. Like MC vs. nature or MC vs. fate. Sometimes, even if you did your best, life doesn’t always work out perfectly. 

Don’t make the MC an overly emotional mess that cries over the smallest thing. Similar to the stupid choices point, it’s an over done trope. 

Let the MC be sensible and have common sense. If a door is locked, then it obviously needs a key. You don’t need the MC to go through a mental gymnastics to figure this simple shit.

Let your MC be morally grey. People aren’t black and white. Why do authors always try to make the MC an angel? There’s a thing in between you guys.

Let your MC be evil. While I personally would like more morally grey MCs, evil MCs are probably the next rarest type of MC. It’s good to have variety. 

Try to let your MC be more of a T (Thinking) from the MBTI personality types instead of F (Feeling). Personality types that have a T in it are one of the more rarer types of protagonist in stories. They’re normally either the villains or side characters. Rarely the protagonist. It’s a bit more common to expect a T male MC while T female MCs are downright mythical. Probably because it’s womanly to be an F… oops. 

Don’t make your MC be overly naive. Like seriously, why are all these MCs act like they lived under a rock for the past five years. “What is this… strange heartbeat when I’m next to my love interest? Must be a heart attack.” Biiiiitch. Not everyone is so emotionally stunted. And before anyone think that the T type of personality are like this… no, they aren’t. Just because they use their brain doesn’t mean they don’t understand how they feel. If anything, they’ll take these feeling and formulate a plan on how to successfully woo their partner… anyways, point is: Don’t make your MC an emotional virgin.

In yandere stories in particular, let your MC be the yandere’s equal… if possible, their superior. Actually, just give a unique character dynamic instead of “UwU, the yandere is overbearing and stronger than me.”

Anyways, I hope this was helpful to you anon!

Here’s a bonus picture of all the T type personalities that you could use for unique MCs:

(Bonus: I’m an INTJ while Julie is an INTP, in case anyone was wondering)

[theinkquiry]

Popular | Chapter 4

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Avenger!Reader

Prompt: Tony has made a bet to see who could end up with the most fans, out of the Avengers, by the end of the month. Bucky takes it just to piss Sam off and Reader really wants to prove that she isn’t the least popular. Bucky and Reader team up to be a fake couple in order to beat the other Avengers, agreeing to split the prize at the end. Will it all work out?

A/N: Adding just a bit of drama into this series. Thanks to all of you again for the overwhelmingly positive feedback. I do have bonus chapters planned as well, so look out for those in the future. In the meantime, please enjoy the next installment.

Warnings: Added tension. Watch out, kids.

Series Masterlist

The Avengers’ Photoshoot

You blinked twice after another flash went off. This one left you a bit dazed. You removed your arm from Bucky's to rub your eyes.

"You alright there?" The photographer called out.

"All good!" You give two thumbs up.

"Just a few more to go," the woman behind the camera reassured you. "Next pose, please!" Stylists rushed all around, grabbing clothes off of hangers and brushing the hair on any head they came across. It was busier and somehow had more cameras than Tony's press conferences.

What was supposed to be a simple photo shoot for the team turned into a whole fashion show. Everyone was doing their best to show off their unique styles, personalities, and best Instagram materials. Tony decided to do some personal motivating by calling together a small town's worth of professional photographers, make-up artists, and marketers to really 'sell' the Avengers.

Upon hearing the news two days ago, you were beyond ecstatic. "It's the perfect opportunity to get so many good shots of us!"

"I could use some updating on the internet pages," Bucky hummed. He absentmindedly thumbed through the pages of the novel he was reading. You were glad he finally decided to pick up some of your recommendations.

"Which one?" You teased.

"What do you mean? Isn't there only one?" Bucky looked up at you, face completely serious. You gaped at him. Did he seriously ask if there was just a single page on the entirety of the entire inter- "I'm just messing with you doll, I was talking about Facebook." Bucky interrupted your train of thought.

"Ha, you got me there," you laughed. Thank god.

Now you had to spend the whole day getting baked by cameras and prepped like a race car. It was just hopping from one set to another. If smiling in your off time for pretend dates was tiring, then this was a whole new level of jaw pain.

In the middle of wardrobe, you decided to give your legs a rest and leaned back into your chair. After what felt like an eternity of brushing against your face and dull objects swishing under your eyes, you were glad to be done with the heavy eyeliners and lipsticks. After going through a pile of makeup removers, your face felt scratched, but clean. This must have been the sixth time changing, not including getting up in the morning. You gladly handed in the gowns and formal wear in exchange for your hero outfit.

Good times with that suit on, you had. A lot of those 'good times' included danger, heavy weaponry, extensive fighting, and so many explosions you were surprised you weren't deaf yet, but good nonetheless.

"You look relaxed." Sam strolled by, propping an elbow up on your chair.

"What can I say? Gearing up never felt so simple without having to stash a million concealed weapons in between layers," you shrugged.

He laughed, pointing at Tony. The tech genius was currently modeling his famous Iron Man suit, minus the head so that his face was visible. "Can't say the same for him. I know it's probably temperature controlled, but how does he breathe in that box?"

The two of you snickered and observed the others in the spotlight.

The Avengers were taking their turns in front of the camera. There were many shoots going on at once. Just one flash after another. Clint and Natasha were teaming up for a mini-shoot on being the two lucky humans who didn't have anything but their own skills in battle. Cap had so much red, white, and blue near him it was as if no other colors existed. Even Wanda and Vision were stunning in formal wear, despite Vision's rather unique complexion.

Finally, you turned to Bucky. If the team looked great, then your super-soldier was beyond amazing. Perhaps in another life, he could have been a model. Sure, having been remade into a perfectly build statue made both him and Steve look phenomenal, but what Steve lacked was the vibe that seeped out of Bucky. He was staring at the camera with so much suaveness, you caught the woman behind it swooning more than once. You knew your face was probably red at this point, so you looked to Sam for his reaction.

The man simply rolled his eyes. "What? Come on, you gotta admit Bucky is like a professional!" You argue.

"Uh huh," Sam said blankly. "You're ogling so much, I'm surprised you haven't started drooling yet."

"Like your judgment is so much clearer," you scoff.

Sam frowned. "What, you saying I have bad judgment?"

"I'm not the one who hates Bucky," you point out.

"I don't hate him," Sam defended. "Just a strong disliking."

"When he enters a room, you act like he just destroyed your entire bank account. Every. Single. Time." You put your hands on your hips.

"Pfft.." Sam sputters.

"Besides, I'm his girlfriend. Maybe you wouldn't be so mean if you had one too. Or a new hobby." You shrug and continue to watch Bucky. One of the many perks of being his pretend girlfriend was that you didn't have to be as discreet when checking him out. Not that you exactly caught feelings for him before, but come on. You lived with people built so well they were actually made in labs.

"My new hobby has become avoiding you two while you stink up the tower with this lovey dove-y nonsense. And if you'll excuse me, lover-boy just finished. That's my cue to leave before I have to witness whatever this-" He waved his hands in front of you, "-is."

Right on cue, Bucky finished his. You managed to catch his eye, waving at him. He grinned and waved back, but seemed to be heading in another direction. You didn't have much time to pay attention because you still had your 'hero' shots to do.

The cameraman was being really specific this time. You were certain that he wrote down the exact coordinates of where you should place your legs and the angle to tilt your head at. You did everything from two hands on your hips to military salutes. Out of the corner of your eye, you couldn't help but notice Bucky talking to his photographer. Strange, considering you only saw him either chat with Steve, try to trip up Sam, or pretend to flirt around with you.

By now, you recognized the look he was giving his photographer. It was the same kind of playful character he had all the way back at the restaurant. You couldn't help but smile to yourself, knowing that you helped him to get out of his shell. Then again, it hit you that Bucky can't be seen giving heart eyes to anyone but you just quite yet. You still had a penthouse to win.

"Alright, one more shot then you're done," your cameraman instructed. As soon as the flash went off, you sped over to Bucky.

His back was turned to you, and the photographer didn't seem to notice you either. You made a mental note to tease Bucky about the way she was basically drowning in his eyes right now. Then again, who wouldn't?

"Excuse me," you sang, looping your arm through his. "Do you mind if I borrow my boyfriend for a bit?" The lady actually blushed and scampered off. You felt bad. You noted to get her card and number for Bucky once the dating facade was over.

Bucky leaned back and smirked. "Jealous?"

You rolled your eyes and shoved him playfully. "She's cute. What's her name?"

"I think it was Wendy. She was really sweet." Bucky gave a soft smile, looking back to where the girl was standing before.

"Am I not cute enough for you?" You feigned a pout.

Bucky laughed. "So are you seriously jealous? If you've fallen in love already, just let me know now."

You hummed, not really in the mood for his joking at the moment. "As cute as you and that girl are, you need to focus! What if someone saw you two?"

Bucky held his hands up in surrender. "We were just talking, that's all."

You sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose. "Bucky, I really don't want to make a big deal out of this. We are surrounded by cameras. If even one shot of you glancing charmingly at another person gets out, it'll blow out of proportion."

He opened his mouth, but you held a finger up. "Not to mention the fact that we don't know if she'll blab. Wendy looks really nice, but she should know we're 'dating'. If her or any other person for that matter even gets a hint that you might be trying to woo someone else, they could spill to the press. The last thing we need is to lose because of a cheating scandal."

"So I can't even have a nice conversation with a pretty girl anymore?" Bucky sounded tired. You bit your lip, trying to stay reasonable.

"First off, you can do that anytime. I'm right here." You both laughed. Good. Defusing the tension. After a few seconds, you continued with business. "Secondly, I know for sure you were flirting with her."

"I wasn't flir-" You folded your arms and gave him a stern look. When he kept on insisting, you didn't budge. He stared down back at you, but eventually exhaled. "Fine. You're right. I'm sorry." He tossed his hands up in the air. "I shouldn't have done it so publicly."

You shook your head, but pulled him into a hug. You leaned in closer to his ear. "I'll get her number for you for when this is all over, if you want." By the time the affection ended, Bucky was back to his casual smiling self again.

"Did I ever tell you you're an amazing friend?"

"And don't forget a fantastic girlfriend," you winked. "Looks like they need you on the next set, big guy." You kissed him on the cheek and let him walk away.

As you and Bucky bid your farewell until next times, you could have sworn you saw a flash in your direction. You spun around, but the only thing you saw was just more pictures getting taken. You shook the thought from your head. It was probably just an extra bright light from one of the cameras. After all, there were so many. It wasn't like you could keep track of who was manning which camera.

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[charmstrongbooks]

The last 48 hours have been a whirlwind and have swept by so fast I’ve barely had time to breathe. Only last night did I catch up with my social media mentions from Tuesday! To say I am humbled and overwhelmed by the many people who have supported the release of ROAM is an understatement. So, for today’s post, let me start with a huge THANK YOU to all who wished me a “Happy Book Birthday” for ROAM. Your kindness is beyond my wildest imagination!

My Deepest Gratitude To:

Thank you to the Writing Community on Social Media for being so kind to give ROAM a shout-out on Tuesday, before and since. I have NEVER had so many mentions on Twitter and Instagram, and I’m beyond words. There were literally a hundred or more for each of the two sites! And that doesn’t include Facebook!

Thank you to the many bloggers who took time to not only read ROAM, but write reviews. For those who made a point of holding your reviews to run on release day, WOW! Y’all are truly the best. I’m overwhelmed by your kindness!

Thank you to my social media friends and followers , as well as my real world friends, who reached out to not only send congratulations, but to share posts on social media! I’m so grateful! You will never know how much you mean to me!

Thank you to my publisher, Michelle Halket at Central Avenue Publishing. I could not be more blessed than to be one of Michelle’s projects! Every author should have the opportunity to work with a publisher as amazing as Michelle!

Thank you to Mayo High School and Pattie Ekman for allowing me to present to your English Classes on Monday. I had more fun meeting the students, and they were all so gracious! They made me feel welcome, and their excitement over our “Kindness Raffle” was really fun! (More about the Kindness Raffle in another post).

Thank you to St. Louis Park Middle School and Lisa Lillie for inviting me to present at your school on Tuesday. OH MY GOSH — your kids are the reason why we write! Their excitement was palpable, and I can’t thank them enough for their welcome!

Thank you to Jenna, Jamie and Ann at Barnes & Noble Galleria in Edina, Minn., for hosting my first book signing. This was so much fun! I thought we were going to be snowed out! The roads were so bad I would’ve cancelled if not for the slight possibility that even one person might’ve shown up and been disappointment. To my complete shock, about a dozen students made their parents hazard the awful roads to come to my signing. And we had so much fun! I think we were probably the only people in the store aside from the stray shopper and staff, but we had a wonderful time! I loved our questions, and I loved the stories you shared. Yes, Henry…as the oldest, your younger siblings will always get away with way more than you ever did! That’s the “bonus” of being the oldest child. We moms put 100% of our energies into our first children and, when the next ones come along, we’re tired! We love them just as much, but we realize they’ll turn out just fine if we stop hovering. Haha!

And finally, my biggest and most humble thank you of all goes out to the OTHER debut young adult and middle grade authors who took time out of their own release days to congratulate me on mine! My only regret of the day is that I didn’t think ahead to plan social media posts to automatically post my congratulations to each of you on Tuesday. But I am deeply grateful, so at the end of this post is a shout-out to those authors who also had Book Birthdays on Tuesday! I hope y’all will take a minute to look at their amazing titles!

So…What was my day like on Tuesday?

Well, in all honesty, my “day” started on Monday with a presentation to four English classes at Mayo High School. This was a special series of presentations to me because the high school is special to me. It’s where my daughter graduated in 2014 and, since I was writing ROAM during that period of time, much of the story takes place within its walls — by a different name (Rochester South). But anyone from the area knows “Rochester South” of the book is Mayo. After all, how many completely round schools are there?

I went home exhausted, yet exhilarated, on Monday; then woke up at 5:30 on Tuesday morning to leave for St. Louis Park (a 90 minute drive without traffic) to present to five  classes. These kids were so fantastic, and I was shocked to learn how many students have already worked in some capacity with their homeless communities. Y’all are just fantastic! While there, I had the opportunity to meet the office staff, the school principal, and even the Superintendent of Schools. I’m just so grateful for  the welcome I received, and am excited to go back…because I’ve been invited back to present to other classes! Thank you, Lisa Lillie for setting these up! I had a great day!

  At the end of my presentations at St. Louis Park Middle School, I was supposed to present to an after school assembly for those who were unable to attend during the day. Sadly, due to weather, all after school activities were cancelled. So I bundled up and drove the roughly 15 miles to my hotel in Edina, in preparation for my night signing at B&N. Well, the roads were AWFUL! It took me (and I’m NOT kidding) more than 2.5 hours to drive those 15 or fewer  miles! When I finally got to the hotel, I had about an hour to relax and have dinner before heading out again. Thank goodness for Jimmy Johns delivery!

At 7:00, I showed up for my signing at the Barnes & Noble in Edina at the Galleria Mall. Y’all, if you’ve never been to this Barnes & Noble, you really MUST visit them! Truly, they have the nicest, friendliest, most helpful staff of any Barnes & Noble I’ve ever visited. I first visited this store back in June, and I knew immediately I wanted to do my launch at this store. And I was right. They  made the experience so fun, even though the roads were awful and — aside from those who hazarded the roads to attend my signing — the store was virtually empty.

Returning back to the hotel at around 9:30, I’d really hoped to sleep in until at least 11:00 the next morning. But, alas, I was still riding high on adrenaline and not only had difficulty falling asleep, but was awake by 5:30 a.m. with excitement for the day and my drive back home.

So What’s Next on My Calendar?

Today is a “rest day” for me (which really means I have to clean  my house since I’ve been ignoring it).

Tomorrow, I head to Lanesboro Schools for a day full of presentations to their middle and high schools.

Saturday, February 9th, I’ll be kicking off my local book tour at the Barnes & Noble Apache Mall in Rochester, Minn.  I’ll be reading and signing books from 2:30 to 4:00 p.m. I really hope y’all will join me. You can find the Facebook event invitation with more information at this link.

Sunday, February 10th, I’ll be at Pasquale’s Neighborhood Pizzeria in Rochester, Minn., where I’ll be signing books from 1:00 to 3:00 p .m. This one ought to be a HUGELY fun signing, as I’ll not only be offering up free copies of ROAM to five random winners, but you seriously can’t beat the pizza at Pasquale’s. For more information on this event, use this link to view the Facebook event invite.

Monday, February 11th, I’ll be at Stewartville Public Library in Stewartville, Minn., from 6:30 to 8:00 p.m. THIS is the library I consider to be my own library. Though I live in the neighboring town, I love going to Stewartville’s library because it reminds me of the library I grew up in. It’s small and friendly, yet they have everything you could ever need…or will get it for you if they don’t have it. To view the Facebook event invite, use this link.

I think I’ll stop with Monday, or this post will go on for pages. If you’d like to figure out where I am to come to a signing, you can use this link.

And Don’t Forget…

Check out these debut Young Adult and Middle Grade novels that also released on Tuesday with ROAM. You seriously won’t be sorry!

  The Weight of Our Sky by Hanna Alkaf Dark of the West by Joanna Hathaway Enchanteé by Gita  Trelease Ruby in the Sky by Jeanne Zulick Ferruol

A HUGE Thank you for your kindness! #bookbloggers #readers ya #mg #authors #novel19s #gratitude #teens #amreadyingya #kindnessmatters #writingcommunity @bngalleria @bnapachemn @rochpublibrary @pasqualespizza5 @centavepub #ipgbooknews The last 48 hours have been a whirlwind and have swept by so fast I've barely had time to breathe.