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tortilla-of-courage · 3 years

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Skyward Sword - comparing NPC names in English and Spanish

For this I’ll be comparing mainly 2 (technically 3) translations of SkSw: English (ENG), Spanish (Latinamerica) (ESP-LA) and Spanish (Spain) (ESP-SP). If available, I’ll add the Japanese (JP) too. The spanish ones might be the same in some cases, which will be marked as (ESP). (I might also add an extra translation or two if i know them)

Link (リンク - Rinku), Zelda (ゼルダ - Zeruda) and Impa (インパ - Inpa) stay the same in all translations. Some of them have some minor changes tho (beware of slight spoilers for SkSw)

(Special thanks to @sunnylaurels for sharing the Japanese names for the Skyloft NPCs! And to @attllhak for sharing some French ones! - Really Long post under cut)

Main/Important Characters

Fi (ENG) - Fay (ESP) - ファイ (Fai) (JP)

These are basically the same, just different spelling. There’s a lot of speculation as to what Fi’s name is based on. For some reason I like to think it’s because of “Wi-Fi” but anything goes

Ghirahim (ENG) - Grahim (ESP) - ギラヒム (Girahimu) (JP)

This one’s interesting because both ‘translations’ are technically right. English follows it more “to the letter” doing “Gira” as “Ghira”, while Spanish interprets it as “Gra” since Japanese doesn’t do the two-different-consonants together thing, but overall both are the same

Groose (ENG) - Vilán (ESP-LA) - Malton (ESP-SP) - バド (Bado) (JP)

Groose, Groose, Groose. Probably the main character with the MOST changes. “Bado” seems to be referencing the Japanese pronunciation of “bird”, but could also be interpreted as “Birdo”. LA Spanish’s “Vilán” is sometimes seen as referencing the english “Villain”, but recently @/deerdroo pointed out to me it’s most definitely referencing the “Gavilán” bird, which resembles a little eagle (Wikipedia calls it a “sparrowhawk” in English). Not sure what Spain’s doing with “Malton” but I like it. And of course “Groose” follows the bird naming theme most of Skyloft has (referencing grouse and goose). Also his name in French is “Hergo”

Demise (ENG) - El Heraldo de la Muerte (ESP) - 終焉の者 (Shūen no Mono) (JP)

Okay this guy. “終焉の者” could be translated as “The One Who Brings The End”, according to @/sunnylaurels. So, in a way, I guess it makes sense for the English translation to just grab “Demise” for the name but also I feel it REALLY takes away from how it’s a Title rather than a name? He’s an ancient being, him existing as a “concept” and having no name adds a lot to his character imo. Anyways, “El Heraldo de la Muerte” would translate as “The herald of death” or “the messenger of death”, which is like really ominous i think - imagine having to fight some guy and everyone on earth calls him the messenger of death. I’d be so scared. Yes I’m very aware Demise means Death i just think it’s silly he just gets called that and that’s it. Also i keep reading it as Denise so really, who’s losing here? Not me.

As a fun add-on to this, in German his name can be translated to “Death-bringer” (thanks @/aureateart), while in French it’s Avatar du Néant, which would translate to “Avatar of the Void” (thanks @/attllhak)

The Imprisoned (ENG) - El Cautivo (ESP-LA) - El Durmiente (ESP-SP)

“El Cautivo” basically means The Imprisoned, but “El Durmiente” means “The Sleeping One”, which... fits, but also i find it a bit funny, not sure why. Fight the sleepy avocado everyone

Deities + The Surface’s Main Places’ Names

The Goddesses stay the same in these translations too:

Din (ENG, ESP) - ディン (Din) (JP)

Nayru (ENG, ESP) - ネール (Nēru) (JP)

Farore (ENG, ESP) - フロル (Furoru) (JP)

Hylia (ENG, ESP) - ハイリア (Hairia) (JP)

The dragons, for the most part, too. The only one that really changes is Faron, which changes to “Farone” much like in Twilight Princess with the Light Spirit of the same name.

Eldin (ENG, ESP) - オルディン (Orudin) (JP)

Lanayru (ENG, ESP) - ラネール (Ranēru) (JP)

Faron (ENG) - Farone (ESP) - フィローネ (Firōne) (JP)

Levias (ENG) - Narisha (ESP)

I couldn’t for the life of me find Levias’ name in Japanese, but considering EVERY translation EXCEPT English has him as Narisha? i’m gonna take a wild guess and say it’s ナリシャ (Narisha) or similar. His name Levias is based off the word Leviathan. And Fun fact! Did you know the spaniard Zelda Wiki lists him as being one of the dragons? as in, him being a whale-shaped dragon? yeah.

The Surface (ENG) - Las Tierras Inferiores (ESP)

Las Tierras Inferiores would translate as “The Lower Lands”

Faron Woods (ENG) - Bosque de Farone (ESP)

Eldin Volcano (ENG) - Volcán de Eldin (ESP)

Lanayru Dessert (ENG) - Desierto de Lanayru (ESP)

These ones mean the same for the most part, just with the change of Faron to Farone.

Skyloft / The Sky - Places and Animals

The Sky (ENG) - El Cielo (ESP-LA) - Celéstea (ESP-SP)

“El Cielo” literally means The Sky, while Celéstea would be a play on “Celestial” (From the Heavens/Skies). Fun side note - “El Cielo” also means “Heaven”, so when i was younger everytime i went back to the sky i’d be like “rip Link he’s dead :/”

Skyloft (ENG) - Neburia (ESP-LA) - Altárea (ESP-SP)

Neburia, from what I learned after a 4 am Wikipedia dive, could be based off the word “Nébula”, which can mean “Cloud”. It basically means “Cloud Town”. Altárea, I think??? would be based off the word “Alto” which means “High (Altitude)” so basically, “A Place High Up”? If anyone wants to comment on this i’d appreciate it

The Lumpy Pumpkin (ENG) - La Calabaza Flotante (ESP-LA) - Calabarza’s (ESP-SP)

“La Calabaza Flotante” literally means “The Floating Pumpkin”, while “Calabarza’s” is a really clever play on Calabaza and bar. I’m not sure what the name of the island itself is in english, but in Spanish it’s “Isla Calabaza” (Pumpkin Island) (ESP-LA) and “Calabia” (word play on “Pumpkin Place”) (ESP-SP)

Loftwing (ENG) - Neburí (ESP-LA) - Pelícaro (ESP-SP)

Neburí would also come from Nébula, so it’d translate to something like “Cloudy (thing)”? possibly. Pelícaro seems like a play on the word “Pelícano” which means Pelican.

Remlit (ENG) - Lémury (ESP) - Remuri (JP)

Lémury is a play on “Lémur”, probably because of Remlits’ ringed tails. Remuri might be the same play of words.

Skyloft/The Sky - NPCs

(I might revisit some of these at one point since some of the references they could have flew over my head!) (haha get it? flew? the sky? ok)

Batreaux (ENG) - Mursego (ESP-LA) - Batolo (ESP-SP) - Morusego (JP)

My friend! my buddy! Batreaux is an obvious play with “Bat”, since he kind of resembles one. This is kept in both Spanish names - Batolo seems like a combination of “Bat” and “Bartolo” (a spanish name), and Mursego is based off the spanish for Bat “Murciélago” (as well as being the closest to the Japanese “Morusego”!!). Keeps the “flying animal” theme in all three languages.

Beedle (ENG) - Terry (ESP) - テリー (Terī) (JP)

The man, the myth, the legend. Beedle’s name is similar to “beetle”, the insects he loves in BoTW and SS. Not sure what the deal with “Terry” and similar is. He keeps the “flying animal name” theme with Beedle, sort of, but loses it in every other translation (which, btw, is also Terry or a variant in most languages)

Bertie (ENG) - Arín (ESP-LA) - Alfred (ESP-SP) - Arin (JP)

This poor man. Working all day and all night. Bertie’s supposed to reference a type of sparrot called “lovebird” (the bird part). For Arín, besides being basically the same as Japanese, could reference the word “Cantarín”, which means “singsong” and is used to describe birds that sing a lot. Alfred... no clue.

Cawlin (ENG) - Corvy (ESP) - Ras (JP)

In the same way “Cawlin” references “caw”, which is the sound crows make, “Corvy” references this same bird, called “Cuervo” in Spanish. In french he’s “Orbo”, which if i had to guess also references crows.

Croo (ENG) - Gurriaco (ESP)

“Croo” could reference both the “cooing” of birds and “crow”, like Cawlin above. Gurriaco, if I reach enough, could be referencing “Urraca”, a type of bird in Spanish.

Dodoh (ENG) - Dodo (ESP) - Dodo (JP)

Referencing the extinct bird of the same name in all languages, I guess.

Dovos (ENG) - Dombo (ESP)

Dovos feels like it’s referencing “Dove”. Dombo gives be “Dumbo” vibes - probably could reference it because he flies? not sure

Eagus (ENG) - Aquilo (ESP) - Igurusu (JP)

Eagus, Aquilo, and Igurusu are referencing Eagles. It’s more obvious in Eagus. The spanish for Eagle is “Águila”, which is just two letters off from Aquilo.

Fledge (ENG) - Gruyo (ESP) - Sebasun (JP)

Fledge is referencing Fledgling, a young bird. Gruyo comes from “Gruya”, which is Crane in spanish. In french his name’s “Célestin”.

Gaepora (ENG, ESP-LA) - Gaépora (ESP-SP) - ゲポラ (Gepora) (JP)

Pretty much the same. His name is also a combination of the Owl from Ocarina of Time’s name “Kaepora Gaebora” (ENG, ESP) - ケポラ・ゲボラ (Kepora Gebora), probably because he looks a lot like the Sage of Light Rauru and the owl he turns into. One of the few Skyloftians not named after a bird in English, though technically he is if we consider the above?

Gondo (ENG, ESP-LA) - Dorcon (ESP-SP) - Doruko (JP)

Not sure what Gondo might be referencing bird-wise exactly? though i think “Gondo” is similar to “Gonzo” (from Wind Waker), with who I think shares some design aspects. Dorcon in Spain’s Spanish seems to just take from the original Japanese. In French his name’s also “Dorco”!

Goselle (ENG) - Alani (ESP) - Otaka (JP)

I’ll be real, not sure what’s going on with her names in either language. Goselle gives me bird vibes but i’m not sure. Alani reminds me of the spanish “Alaja”, which means Jewel

Greba (ENG) - Ornella (ESP) - Miho (JP)

Ornella reminds me of the word “Hornilla” (mute H), which is basically the hole where the heat comes out of in wooden ovens... but! according to the dictionary it also means “(a) hole where pigeons make their nest” so i guess it’s bird related too!

Gully (ENG) - Gabio (ESP-LA) - Gabi (ESP-SP) - Garu (JP)

Gully most definitely references a seagull. Gabio and Gabi references the same animal, but in spanish obviously - “Gaviota”.

Henya (ENG) - Galina (ESP-LA) - Zenona (ESP-SP) - Heena (JP)

Henya references Hens, as does Galina (Hen being “Gallina” in Spanish). Zenona... uh.. not sure where that came from? I’m halfway through this post realizing i’d gladly accept comments from any spanish speaking person who wants to give an input on these things im missing

Horwell (ENG) - Asteus (ESP) - Hoonelu (JP)

i’ll be real im not sure what Asteus is referencing. Horwell seems to be pretty close to the japanese for the most part though

Jakamar (ENG) - Carpín (ESP) - Geran (JP)

Carpín is most definitely referencing Wood Peckers (“Pájaro Carpintero”/Carpenter Birds)

Karane (ENG) - Grusi (ESP-LA) - Gracielle (ESP-SP) - Kuranu (JP)

Karane seems to be almost the same as in Japanese, while Spanish went crazy and gave her a completely different name, tho at least they’re kinda similar between each other. Also in french her name’s “Grida” (another Gr name!!)

Keet (ENG) - Pío (ESP-LA) - Pitxi (ESP-SP) - Michiru (JP)

Pío is, quite literally, the sound birds make (or the way we’d write that sound in spanish), especially chicks. Pitxi is a mystery to me

Kina (ENG) - Calabel (ESP-LA) - Calabelle (ESP-SP) - Panan (JP)

Calabel/Calabelle is referencing the spanish for Pumpkin, “Calabaza”, giving it a more feminine name-esque ending (like in Anabel/Anabelle)

Kukiel (ENG) - Picalia (ESP-LA) - Cuqui (ESP-SP) - Kuuko (JP)

Cuqui could be referencing that exact same word (often spelled “Kuki”) that just means “cute”. Picalia seems like a play with “pícara” which basically means “gremlin” (google translates it as “sassy” but im not sure if that word fits)

Luv (ENG) - Mandi (ESP-LA) - Amanda (ESP-SP) - Manda (JP)

Mandi and Amanda seem to stay close to the Japanese name, both of them being common spanish names. Luv, like i mentioned in Bertie’s part, would reference “love bird” (the love part)

Mallara (ENG) - Pati (ESP-LA) - Patty (ESP-SP) - Rubia (JP)

I only now realized Mallara is referencing mallard ducks. wow. Pati/Patty are just a common name in Spanish. Lil fun fact related to her Japanese name! Rubia means “blonde” in Spanish

Mia (ENG, ESP-LA) - Miwi (ESP-SP) - Mi (JP)

mia my baby girl. i love her. im yeeting her off Skyloft. seems they all reference meowing in some way

Orielle (ENG) - Corina (ESP) - Kuina (JP)

LISTEN. the other day i was trying to think just WHAT Corina could be referencing. And the only thing that popped into my brain is that “Corina” is the name they gave the bird Tokyo Mew Mew girl in LatinAmerica. It’s literally the only bird related thing i can think of. Also it sounds a bit like “Kuina”. French name is “Kinaé”, similar to Japanese!

Owlan (ENG) - Buhel (ESP) - Aoulu (JP)

Owlan seems to keep the owl theme across all three! Aoulu seems to just be “owl” quite literally, and Buhel is a play on the spanish for Owl (”Búho”)

Parrow (ENG) - Golondro (ESP) - Parou (JP)

Golondro comes from “Golondrina”, a type of bird! I think it’s called “swallow” in english ... so it kinda fits Parrow anyways! Also Parrow seems to be his japanese name too

Peater (ENG) - Panolo (ESP-LA) - Paul (ESP-SP) - Jakusin (JP)

This guy. man. Seems to be “Jackson” in Japanese? But everyone grabbed a P and ran. Panolo seems like a play on “Manolo”, a nickname for people with the name “Manuel” - maybe mixed with the P for “Pájaro”(Bird)? Paul’s just a common name as far as i know.

Peatrice (ENG) - Panalí (ESP-LA) - Paula (ESP-SP) - Jakuriinu (JP)

Peatrice seems to always be named after her dad. “Jackeline” in Japanese i believe, and barely “feminized” names for the rest. Panalí sounds a bit more like “panal”, the spanish for “hive” (as in beehive)

Piper (ENG) - Joana (ESP)

There’s not much to comment here. Joana’s a common name in Spanish

Pumm (ENG) - Vito (ESP-LA) - Ruperto (ESP-SP) - Puukin (JP)

I have NO clue where Vito came from. It sounds like a badly spelled “Victor”. Where did the Pumpkin theme go???? huh?????. Ruperto’s kind of the same? Unless i’m missing some pumpkin related words in spanish, it’s just a common name.

Pipit (ENG) - Cocu (ESP-LA) - Coocker (ESP-SP) - Kikoa (JP)

This guy. It seems a lot of languages kept the C/K sounds in his name? He’s Kiko in French and Cuco in german (thanks @/aureateart). They seem to reference cuckoo clocks maybe? and the german’s really close to cucco.

Rupin (ENG) - Rupín (ESP-LA) - Milo (ESP-SP) - Kookin (JP)

Rupin/Rupin are referencing Rupees, since he’s the shopkeeper and the alike. Milo... I... I’m not sure what’s referencing?

Rusta (ENG) - Ganzo (ESP) - Rostaa (JP)

Rusta and Rostaa seem to be referencing Roosters, while Ganzo’s referencing the spanish for Goose! (Ganso)

Scrapper (ENG) - Serbot (ESP) - Sarubo (JP)

Including this lil guy here coz... why not? Serbot seems to be almost the same if not the exact name as Japanese (though Sarubo could just be Server?)

Sparrot (ENG) - Aspir (ESP-LA) - Gorronte (ESP-SP) - Subuha (JP)

Gorronte seems to be a play on “Gorrión” (Sparrow), so, pretty close to English. Aspir..... I’m not sure?

Strich (ENG) - Vestro (ESP) - Osta (JP)

Vestro, like Stritch, references Ostriches, with Ostrich in spanish being “Avestruz”. Seems Japanese references the same animal? and I think french too, since he’s “Latruche” in that language!

Wryna (ENG) - Elenia (ESP-LA) - Alisia (ESP-SP) - Arisu (JP)

Alisia seems to stick to the Japanese name Arisu (Alice), while Elenia went... a different direction. Elenia is a variation of a common spanish name, Elena.

#holy shti i did it. im NOT tagging everyone #translations #translation shenanigans #skyward sword #legend of zelda #zelda skyward sword #tortilla thinks #tortilla posts #???? not sure what to tag this #skyloft #loftwings #language comparison #it's 3 am save me #i WILL come back to fix stuff in this. it's a promise.#there's so much more places and characters i didnt add but i'll save those for a separate post becuase holy FUCK

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plant-flwrs · 4 years

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late night rendezvous // george weasley

masterlist!

content warnings: smut!

soft and fluffy smut, i’ll put a little indicator (*) when the smut starts, so if you’re not into that you can stop reading there <3

a/n: i have absolutely no idea if this is good, i’ve been rereading it over and over again in my drafts debating if i should post it. give me feedback if u have any, i’d really appreciate it on this one! hope everyone is safe and happy and amazingly wonderful, love u guys, thank u for reading, thank u for following, thank u for just existing!!

summary: You and George sneak off to the library for some privacy

(6.2k)

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The Ravenclaw common room, while studious and peaceful, was not romantic. George had laid you down on a couch gently, hovering on top of you perched on his hands whispering sweet jokes to you. It was lovely, but a sharp and unfamiliar pain was pressing into your back. You pushed George off of you slowly, turning around to see what you were laying on. A book was there, misplaced as so many books were in the Ravenclaw common room.

You groaned, hearing George chuckle from behind you as you got up and put the book on the shelf resting against the wall.

“Want to go somewhere else, love?” George asked you, getting off the couch and walking over to you. You couldn’t help but admire him as he walked, his hair that was sticking up in odd places from where you had run your fingers through it, his wrinkled shirt that he hadn’t bothered to straighten when he stood, his lazy grin.

“It’s almost curfew,” you said sadly, leaning your back against the shelf.

“That’s never stopped us before,” George whispered, close to you now as he rested his hands on shelf behind your head.

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, resting your forehead on his strong chest. You felt it rise and fall with calm breaths, one of his hands moving to stroke your hair. You thought back to George’s body against yours a moment ago. His slow hands on your face as he cradled your jaw and kissed you. He was so slow and gentle tonight, a nice change from his usual confident and sly demeanor.

You and George hadn’t had much time for each other this week; George was busy with Angelina’s rigorous Quidditch trainings and you had course work piled up to the sky. It was a Friday night, George had practice off, and you had managed to get your course load down to a much smaller pile.

You lifted your head from his chest, looking up at him, “Where did you have in mind?”

George gave you an excited grin, biting his bottom lip in an attempt to hide how pleased he really was. He took a step back, letting his hands fall from the wall to your hips.

“The library? No one’s in there this late on a Friday,” he was already pulling you off the wall, leading you to the door.

“Alright,” you giggled, letting him drag you off.

You walked slowly behind him, crouching slightly as he held his illuminated wand to the Marauder’s Map. Filch’s footsteps were walking down an adjacent corridor, and Mrs. Norris crept down a hallway on the floor below you. George looked around a corner, doublechecking it’s safety, and grabbed your hand to pull you along.

You two made it to the library fairly quickly. The candles in the hallway gave a dim light that prevented you from stepping on George’s heals, but inside the library was pitch black. George held his wand up and guided the way.

You walked past the front desk, Madam Pince long gone for the night. You walked past the first row of bookshelves, past the groupings of tables used for studying, past more shelves, past some desks, and to the back of the room. The back wall was covered in various maps, ancient printings of foreign lands. George walked along the wall until he was far into the corner, hidden from the door by a bookshelf that met the wall. You followed him, walking slower as your hand traced the maps. George sank down to the floor, his long legs stretching across the carpeted floor. You stayed standing, looking at a smudged sketch of what a birds-eye view of the Forbidden Forest looks like. There was small labeling in loopy cursive of different creatures that lived in different regions, marking the unicorns to live in a flower patch and mermaids to live in a small pond with a waterfall. George watched you, your face shining in the small light cast from his wand.

He looked at the space around you, small and uncomfortable. He lifted his wand, moving the light from your face and the wall of maps. The light ceased as he moved it, and suddenly you felt a soft and plush material at your ankles.

“George?” you called into the darkness.

The light was back again, and you saw why it had gone.

George had conjured a few blankets, some pillows, and a candle. He was already moving to lay the blanket down over the floor, covering the small space from the wall to the shelf. He propped the pillows against the wall, falling into them once he lit the candle and placed it on an empty part of the bookshelf near the ground.

You sank to the floor next to George, a bashful smile on your face. You curled into his side, resting your head on his shoulder as his arm pulled you close to him. Your arm fell on his chest, fingers playing with the collar of his shirt. His hand on your waist, holding you to him, lifted the bottom of your shirt and drew shapes on the bare skin of your hip.

“I’ve missed you this week, Georgie,” you whispered, watching as he used his free hand to cast away the light coming from his wand.

A flickering candleflame shown upon the both of you, casting moving shadows on George’s face as he looked down at you.

“I’ve missed you too,” he sighed, somehow pulling you closer as if he was afraid you were going to drift away, “so much.”

You felt him shift slightly, and his lips were pressing open mouth kisses to your forehead. You closed your eyes, tilting your head up to him with an easy smile. He pulled away, gazing down at you.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, a small grin on his lips.

“So are you,” you replied, blushing under his intense gaze.

You moved in his grip, laying more on your stomach with half your chest resting on George’s. Your left arm was propping you up on your elbow, hand wrapping around George’s strong bicep. Your right arm stayed on George’s chest, your hand moving to the side of his neck. Your leg rested between George’s, and his rested between yours.

“Will you read to me?” he asks, his voice incredibly soft and vulnerable.

You agreed wordlessly, leaning over George’s body and picking up his wand from the ground beside you.

“Accio ‘The Tales of Beedle the Bard’,” you whispered, sitting up and waiting for the book to come to you.

You heard George chuckle from behind you, also sitting up and resting the back of this head against the wall.

The book fluttered to you, coming from a few rows over. You clutched the book in your hands, scooting back to lean against the wall with George.

“C’mere,” you whispered, patting your thigh and motioning for George to lay down again.

He obeyed, fighting a content smile as he curled between your legs and laid his head on your abdomen. His arms wrapped around your middle, and you moved down the wall so your back was on the floor but your shoulders were against the wall. One hand held open the book while the other played in George’s hair.

He listened silently to your quiet and calming voice as you read the children's story to him, tightening his grip around you once again. Your hand ran down his neck, your fingers creeping beneath the collar of his shirt as you felt the muscles on his back tense and relax under your light touch. He sighed, burying his head into you as his eyes fluttered closed.

You two stayed like that for a while; your hand running from his hair to his back, him shifting his head every few minutes to let you know he was still awake. You read to him with ease, a small smile on your face.

The peace, however, was not kept for long. A creek in the front of the library caused you to snap the book shut, your hand freezing as it crept its way down George’s neck. George lifted his head from your stomach, looking towards the front of the library. He attempted to peak through the shelves, but thought better of it and simply blew out the candle.

In the silence, waiting for another noise, you heard the soft purring of a cat.

“It’s Mrs. Norris and Filch!” you whispered as quietly as you could to your boyfriend.

George sprang into action, picking up the blankets and handing you the pillows and candle. He grabbed his wand and you grabbed the book, moving to stand behind George as he moved a few books to try and see through the shelf. His brow furrowed in concentration, and a bit of relief flood through you as you remembered who you were with. George and his brother were experts on escaping the wrath of Filch, and you had faith in him.

George waved you on, leading you as he did before through the shelves of the library. You had no idea what his plan was, watching nervously through cracks in spaces as Filch shone his lamp down every row in the library.

Filch nearly passed you both, but George crouched just in time, pulling you with him. You watched as Filch shone the light down the isle you and George had been curled up in, feeling relieved to have moved in time. Suddenly, George’s hand in yours was pulling you down a narrow space between shelves, one leading to the restricted section. You widened your eyes, never having been in the restricted section and also noticing Filch heading there as you both did. You silently trusted George, letting him pull you along.

The light from Filch’s lamp was edging closer to your feet, but George pulled a sharp turn into the wall. You turned away from where Filch was coming from, looking towards George. He pulled open a curtain, revealing a little nook in the wall that seemed untouched and abandoned. There were cobwebs in the corners and dust on ever surface, but you and George climbed in anyways. He pulled the curtain shut slowly and silently, putting his fingers to his lips as he looked at you. You nodded, biting your lip as you slowed your panicked breathing.

The nook had a large window parallel to the curtain, lighting up the space. You could see George’s giddy smirk, knowing he enjoyed risky moments like these. You fought the urge to laugh, rolling your eyes instead.

You watched the ground through the sliver of space between the curtain and nook, seeing Filch’s light pass by slowly. You heard his labored breathing and Mrs. Norris’s quiet purrs, holding your breath and hoping they pass without worry. Mrs. Norris stopped for a moment, and you heard her purrs get louder as she came closer to the curtain. She was nearly ducking under the curtain when Filch called her away, grunting as he spoke aloud to the cat.

“No one in here tonight, Mrs. Norris, now let’s go finish our tea and biscuits,” the old man said excitedly to the cat, limping away.

You heard the door slam shut, and you and George let out a breath the both of you had been holding.

“Tea and biscuits?” George said teasingly, smiling wide at you.

“A man has the right to certain pleasures,” you said, smiling back at him.

“That, he does,” George leaned into you, still smiling, and kissed you.

It was slow and gentle, like he had been all night, and you melted into him. His lips moved against yours like honey, molding together like time was in slow-motion. He pulled away slowly, keeping his eyes closed.

“Reckon we can sneak back to our common rooms?” you asked, feeling relieved that you weren’t caught yet on your little excursion.

“I actually had different plans,” George said, pulling open the curtain and stretching his legs out as he stood.

“What might those be?” you stayed sitting, watching as he gathered all the pillows and blankets.

“I thought we could stay the night here,” he said, smirking, “I mean, when do we get this kind of privacy in our dorms?”

You laughed a bit as you thought back to the last time you tried to spend the night in George’s dorm. Fred had opened George’s curtain in the middle of George taking your shirt off, ending in awkward silence for the rest of the night.

You didn’t usually go along with the twins’ crazy and reckless plans, avoiding the late night trips to the kitchens after curfew, and the unapproved raidings of Snape’s ingredient cupboard. This time, however, you couldn’t help but want to go along with George as he looked down at you with soft and loving eyes.

“Suddenly finding the library enjoyable, are you?” you teased him.

“Only at night, when it’s far too dark to read any of the books, and everyone’s gone away,” he joked, holding the curtain open for you as you grabbed the candle, book, and his wand.

“I see,” you sighed, turning to face George and stepping out of the nook, “alright, let’s stay.”

You watched George’s smirk turn into an excited grin as he spun away from you, going back towards your spot in the back of the library.

You followed him, giggling at your boyfriends excitement as he jogged ahead of you. He was eager to lay the blankets down, fluff the pillows, and light the candle, eager to have a moment alone with you.

When you turned down the isle, George had somehow already done all of that, even though he was only seconds before you. He stood on top of a blanket, the candle lit and sitting in the bookshelf it was before, pillows fluffed, and blankets spread. He had a cocky grin on his face, one of his feet propped up against the shelf behind him as his arms crossed over his chest.

“Eager?” you teased, feeling a familiar pit of nerves form in your heart. You had been with George dozens of times, but nothing could stop that pit of nerves from forming just by the look he gave you.

“Always,” he said, his smirk turning into an authentic smile as his eyes filled with excitement.

You walked over to him, stepping carefully on the blankets and scattered pillows. George uncrossed his arms and spread them to you, grabbing your hands as soon as you were close enough and pulling you into him. He dropped his leg, allowing for there to be as little space between you both as possible. His hands stayed clutched in yours, but he moved them to rest on your lower back, pinning your hands beneath his. He pulled you close to him, his hips and chest flush against yours.

“You seem a bit desperate tonight, darling,” you teased, craning your neck away from him to look at his face.

“I think you’re the most amazing girl in the world,” he said sweetly, moving his face closer to yours as he spoke, “I could spend hours talking with you, but right now, I’d love it if you shut up.”

You scoffed in mock offence, a laugh bubbling in your chest that pressed into George’s. While you were still smiling, George closed the distance between your faces and pressed his lips against yours.

(*)

He waited until your smile faded, keeping his lips unmoving against yours, until he finally did move. He was slow, and you pressed your face against his in an attempt to gain some pressure. He pulled away, a loving look in his eyes as he tilted his head. He placed open-mouth kisses on your cheek, moving over your nose, forehead, chin, and jaw. You couldn’t help but contently sigh at each kiss, something that made George feel butterflies in his stomach. His hands on your back pushed against yours, uncurling the fists they were in to lay flat against your back. His large hands covered yours entirely, his palms pressing against the backs of your hands. His fingertips pressed into your back, and he slipped his hands off of yours. You forgot you could move them for a moment, but once you did they crept up his body and rested on either side of his neck. One of his hands slid up your back, bunching up your sweater as he did, and landed on the nape of your neck. The soft material of your sweater fell once he released it, and it tickled your sensitive skin. His other hand moved back and forth from your lower back to your hip, and it seemed like he couldn’t decide where to keep it.

His mouth was attached to your neck, and he couldn’t focus on anything else. He didn’t care about the growing bulge in his pants, all he wanted was his lips on the soft skin beneath your ear.

His mouth opened wider, exposing his teeth, and he scraped them against the delicate skin. You arched your back in reflex, pushing yourself impossibly closer to him. One of your hands drifted to his hair, pulling at random bits whenever George bit your neck again.

The only sound in the quiet and abandoned room were you and George; you sighed and whined as George left his marks on your neck, and George groaned and moaned every time he heard you.

George lifted his head, pulling back to admire his work. In the dim light, he could see an array of purple and red marks already forming on your skin, and the sight alone made his face flush. He ducked down one last time, blowing against the newly-marked spots. You opened your mouth and let out a silent gasp, chest heaving at George’s movements.

His hands moved to cradle your face as he turned his attention away from your neck. He looked into your eyes, seeing the lust clouding over your features for only a second before you pulled him in by the back of his neck. You controlled this kiss, still moving gently but with more force. Your nose pressed into his cheek, and his teeth accidentally grazed your lips occasionally, but you didn’t care. You were lost in George’s touch, not seeming to mind any of the awkward fumbles.

George’s calloused hands stayed firmly on your face, his thumbs moving up to your cheekbones as he stroked them lovingly. You scratched his scalp, running your hands through his hair and down his neck. You were feeling a sense of impatience as you felt yourself become more aroused by what George was doing. Your hands crept down his back, feeling his muscles beneath the material of his old and worn pajama shirt. Your hands made it to his waistband, and you felt him take a sharp breath at the feeling. You lifted his shirt up, slowly moving up his chest as the shirt bunched. You pulled away from him, opening your eyes and looking at George’s bare chest. He lifted his arms, helping you pull off his shirt. You balled it up in your fists and tossed it behind you, hearing it hit the floor lamely on the pile of pillows.

His chest was warm against your cold fingers, and he felt like you were shooting sparks into everywhere you touched him. He watched your hands move across his chest, biting his bottom lip as you bent your fingers to scratch down his abs. He hissed in enjoyment, swallowing as he met your eyes.

“It’s only fair,” you whispered seductively, licking your lips as you ran your nails down his chest again.

“What?” he rasped out, hissing again and tilting his head back to lean against the shelf.

“You marked me up,” you lifted your hands from his chest, resting one on the back of his neck to pull his head down to look at you, “I mark you up.”

George swallowed, feeling himself get harder at your words. His eyes flickered to your neck, bringing his hand to lightly trace over his work. You nearly flinched, but stopped yourself. You looked down at George’s chest, already seeing five red streaks down each side of George’s toned chest. You leaned in, licking your lips and placing wet and loving kisses on the marks. George’s hands went to rest in your hair, balling it up off of your face so he could watch you. You looked up at him, and he opened his mouth in some sort of silent moan.

You stood to your full height, wrapping your arms around George’s neck and kissing him again. Both of his hands were on your hips, his fingers creeping beneath your shirt as his thumbs pressed into your skin.

He pushed himself off the shelf, and you moved in synch; one of his legs moved forwards, slipping between your legs, and you took a step backwards. You walked a few paces, standing in the center of the isle. He was still kissing you the same way he had been all night, slow, gentle, loving.

He pulled away, eyes fluttering open as he looked down at your swollen lips. One of his arms moved between you and he cupped your chin. His thumb traced over your bottom lip, pressing into it and watching it. He was entranced by everything about you. He pulled your lip down, opening your mouth, and released your lip, watching as it bounced back. Your mouth hung open, and you looked at him through your eyelashes. He made a humming noise, raising his eyebrows and breathing deeply.

You began to smirk, but a surprised shriek swallowed the facial expression when George was suddenly collapsing onto the pillows and pulling you down with him. He laid on his back, and you sat on your knees between his legs. His head was propped up by a pillow, his eyes raking over you as you leaned to hover on top of him. You inched forwards, opening your legs and moving so you straddled him. You sat, hovering really, above his abdomen, hands flat against his chest. George’s hands wrapped around your wrists, pulling them out from under you so you fell into him. You giggled, feeling your chest flush against his. It seemed that George was thinking the same thing as you; his hands slid down the sides of your body, slipping beneath your sweater. His hands were warm and rough, gently touching everything he could. When he was done roaming, he began to pull it off of you. You helped him, tossing it to land near his discarded shirt.

You leaned back, sitting down on his stomach as your hands slid back to rest on the tops of his thighs. You arched your back, stretching out and giving George full view of your still covered chest.

“Holy-” you heard him mumbled, feeling his hands creep onto your thighs.

He felt across your legs, sliding his hands down to your ass. His slender fingers kneaded it, and you sat straight again to look at him. His hands left your ass in a second, and he sat up on his elbows. You watched him slowly lick his lips, his eyes dancing around your chest. You reached behind you, unclasping the garment with ease. George’s eyes followed the lacey thing as it fell off your body, and you once again tossed it in the direction of your other clothes.

George’s hands were on you with no hesitation, caressing and kneading your breasts. He sat up, sliding you down to land on his hips. He ducked his head down, connecting his lips to your chest. He felt the need to mark you, any way he could, to feel your skin on his lips and make you writhe with his mouth.

His open mouth slid across your front, his tongue and teeth pushing into your skin with ease. George knew your body, he knew everything about you. There was nothing he loved more than feeling his skin against yours.

His mouth worked on your chest, his hands pressing into your hips. He raked his teeth over the top of your breasts, and the sensation made your hips roll. George groaned into your chest, his body twitching at the unexpected sensation. You kept moving your hips against his, rocking back and forth in rhythm with your gasps. George was gripping onto your hips with such force that his fingers dug into your skin and he felt your bone, but he wasn’t even thinking about that. His thoughts were clouded by your breasts pressed against his face and the feeling of your crotch against his. He wanted to slow down; worship you more before he became undone.

With great struggle, he pulled himself away from your chest and stopped your hips with his grip. You whined at the lack of friction, pushing against his hands to continue the movement. You didn’t have much of a chance, though, as George was flipping you onto your back. He moved his hands from your hips up to the back of your head, cradling it in his hand and resting it delicately onto the pillow. He soothed down your hair, admiring it as it spread out across the pillow beneath you.

You loved that about these exchanged with George. He was gentle; always treating you as if you were a delicate porcelain thing that could break with too much force. George always seemed to know what you wanted, he could read your face and movements like they were his own. He knew you wanted him, but he also knew you wanted to know exactly how much he wanted you.

His hands moved from the back of your head, pushing the hair from your face. They slid down the sides of your face, tracing your jawline and creeping down the sides of your neck.

“You’re-” he paused, meeting your eyes and trying to think of any word worthy of describing you, “you’re ethereal.”

You swallowed hard at his words, chest heaving with a deep breath. You lifted your hands to cup his face, and he closed his eyes at the feeling of your soft hands on his cheeks.

His hands moved still, moving from your neck to your collar bones, to your shoulders and down your arms, to your wrists and over your hands, to your breasts and down your sides, palms flat against your stomach, moving over to your hips where they grazed the sides of your ass. He moved south more, gripping the backs of your thighs as he put himself between your legs. You lifted your legs, feet flat against the floor. George’s hands ran down your ankles, slipping off your shoes. He did the same, kicking them off in a rush with his feet. He bent down, his hands firmly placed on the floor at either side of your head, and kissed you.

He started with small and chaste kisses, lifting his head every time to look at you. Your eyes closed, face relaxed, lips still pushed out waiting for him to kiss them again. He hummed against you, the vibrations adding a different sensation against your lips. You opened your mouth, and George waisted no time slipping his tongue past your lips and into your mouth. His tongue was slipping in and out of your mouth, tracing over your lips and anywhere he could with a slow and sensual determination.

Your hands moved from his cheeks to his hair, one staying to tug on the fiery locks while the other moved to his strong shoulder. You felt the muscles strain as he held himself up, flexing and tensing under your touch. You ran your fingertips down his back, landing on his hip and slipping your pinky finger into the elastic waistband of his plaid pajama pants. He groaned into your mouth, pressing his face further into yours. You hummed, taking this as encouragement. Your other fingers followed your pinky finger, falling under the waistband and moving to his front. You stayed above his boxers, immediately feeling the stretch of the thin material from his erection. He groaned again, thrusting his hips into your hand.

You pulled your face away from his, watching his eyes stay closed as his brow furrowed. You slid your hand over him, moving slowly as his head ducked into your neck. You felt his nose pressing into the sensitive and marked skin, causing you to roll your head back in some sort of pained pleasure. George becoming so hard for you so soon made you become even wetter, and you clenched in an attempt to gain some sort of relief. George still had your legs spread and pinned beneath him, so you couldn’t rub your thighs together.

You were still rubbing him, his soft groans and whines filling your ears as he moved his hips slowly against you. You pulled your hand from his pants, sliding it up his chest and over your scratch marks. His face contorted from the same pained pleasure you had been feeling, he lifted his head from your neck. You saw a thin layer of sweat on his forehead, and realized how pent up this week must have made him.

“You alright, George?” you asked him, pushing his hair off his forehead and looking into his eyes.

“Yeah,” he nodded fervently, licking his lips and breathing heavily, “I just really need you.”

He paused, the both of you staring at each other before he spoke again, “Is that alright?”

“Of course it is,” you gasped with no hesitation, pulling his face to yours again and kissing him hungrily.

His words had made you writhe, your back arched as you pressed yourself against him. It was George’s turn for roaming hands, and he waisted no time. Without missing a beat in the rhythm you had created in your kiss, his hands slid down to your shorts. His thumbs hooked into the sides, sliding them, and your underwear, off with ease. You lifted your hips slightly to help him, only to press yourself against him. He groaned and thrusted into you without thinking, causing you to break from the kiss and roll your head back.

“Really? All that for one touch?” he teased, moving back to sit on his feet as he pulled your shorts completely off your legs.

“You were losing your mind over a handy just a second ago, darling,” you retorted, propping yourself up on your elbows as George moved to hover over you again.

He breathed a dry chuckle, shaking his head as he gave you a quick kiss on the lips. He dipped his head down, tracing over the marks he had already made all over your chest with light and gentle kisses. Your hands went to his hair as he kissed down your stomach, reaching his final destination eagerly. His hands gripped the back of your thighs, lifting them off the floor by an inch. He licked down your folds, blowing teasingly on your clit.

“George!” you gasped, arching your back at the intoxicating sensation.

“Does that feel good?” he asked earnestly, having never done that move before.

“Bloody hell,” you groaned, fingers curling into his hair, “yes.”

He smirked, tilting his head down and placing a kiss to your clit. He blew again, this time for a few seconds longer, and you felt like there were stars behind your eyes.

“Fuck!” you called out, voice raspy and struggling to stay quiet.

“Well,” he said, pulling away and reaching over your body to the right of you, “I hadn’t realized staying quiet would be such a struggle for us tonight.”

You rolled your eyes, blushing slightly. You watched George lazily wave his wand in the direction of the door, casting ‘muffliato’.

“Just wait ‘till it’s your turn, Georgie,” you teased back, watching his jaw tense with lust as he crept down to his position between your legs.

He went back to work, his tongue swiping up and down your core and occasionally sucking and licking your clit. You were coming undone, shifting and twitching beneath him. He had to force your legs apart to keep you from crushing his head, his grip so tight that you hoped his fingerprints would be on your thighs by the morning.

He pulled away, blowing on last time on your clit with a smirk as you tugged at his hair.

“Careful, Y/n, you might rip some out,” his voice was raspy and his lips were wet with your juices. He put a hand over your hand in his hair, moving his fingertips delicately across your hand.

“You’d be so lucky,” you groaned, pulling him up to your lips by his hair, ignoring his warnings.

He groaned at the feeling, coming in contact with your lips eagerly. You tasted yourself on him, licking at his lips as he smirked into the kiss. You pulled away, releasing your grip on his hair.

“You want a go?” you asked, moving your hand down to his erection again.

“No, I won’t last,” he groaned, catching your wrist in his hand.

You stayed in that position for a moment, feeling incredibly turned on by his firm grip on you. You blushed at the intensity, biting your swollen lip and nodding.

“Okay,” you whispered, and George released your hand.

You pressed your palm flat against his lower abdomen, and he lowered his head for a slow and gentle kiss. It was quick, and soon he was pulling away and tilting his head down to look at your bodies flushed together.

“Ready?” he asked, looking up to meet your eyes.

You nodded instantly and moved your hand on his abdomen to pull down his pants and boxers. He helped you, doing most of the work and kicking them off in a bunch at your feet. His erection sprang free, hitting your core because of how close your hips were.

You and George both moaned at the contact, and George’s hands were quick to work as he positioned himself between your folds. He looked you in the eyes before entering, asking silently for consent. You nodded, wrapping your hand around his neck and pulling him to your lips. He pushed his hips flush against yours, and you both let out guttural and lustful moans into each other’s mouths.

His pace was slow, and you wrapped your legs around his hips so he could drive further into your core. Your ankles locked and your hips lifted off the ground. One of George’s hands supported his weight by your head and the other wrapped around your waist.

“Oh my god, George,” you moaned, pulling away from the kiss and shoving your face into the crook of his neck.

“You’re so good,” George breathed out, his fingers tightening around your waist.

“George, George, George,” you chanted in moans, knowing he liked it when you said his name.

With each moan of his name he thrusted harder into you, filing you up and bringing tears to your eyes from the wanted pressure.

“C’mon,” he said, gently placing you down and unwrapping his arm from your waist. He brought his now free hand down to your clit, rubbing his middle finger on it, “cum for me, Y/n.”

You wrapped your legs tighter around him, barely giving him any space to pull out and thrust back into you. Your arms around his neck tightened, too, and George bit his lip as your walls clenched around him.

“You’re so close,” he moaned into your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

He added his ring finger to the pressure on your clit, and you felt your orgasm wash over you. Your chest heaved, face contorting in George’s favorite way. He watched you moan and furrow your brow, loving the face you made when you came. Your legs fell from around George, your arms becoming limp as they rested across his back. George came right after you, pulling out and finishing onto your stomach. You watched him, feeling the hot liquid spread across your skin. He moaned, fighting the urge to collapse onto you. He gathered his wand, conjuring a towel to clean you up with.

Once he was done, he tossed it aside lazily and fell onto you like he had wanted. He curled into your side, wrapping his arm around your stomach.

“We’re really good at that, aren’t we?” he said happily, looking up at you from his place in the crook of your neck.

“I sure as hell am,” you joked, diving your hands into his hair, “you’re alright.”

“Alright?” he asked, sitting up and resting on his forearms, eyebrows raised.

“Mmm,” you pretended to think about his, pulling him back down by the back of his neck, “I suppose your really good, too.”

“I am really good,” he pretended to pout, sitting up and gathering his boxers and your underwear and handing them to you.

You watched him slip his boxers on, and you pulled your panties on. You laid back down, pulling a blanket over your body. George slid under the blanket with you, the bare skin of his chest pressing against yours.

“When do you suppose we sneak back to our common rooms?” you asked, tracing feather-light touches on his arm.

“Soon, if we have to,” he groaned, pulling you tighter to him.

“I just don’t want some first year coming back here and finding us tomorrow morning,” George chuckled at the thought, nuzzling his face into your side.

“You’re right,” he said, “I’d much rather Madam Pince find us.”

You giggled, feeling your eyes get heavy as George’s soft snores began to fill the small space.

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breathofmagic · 3 years

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Beedle appreciation post 💛

🪲

#the legend of zelda #zelda botw #zelda breath of the wild #zelda beedle #beedle #tloz #tloz botw #tloz breath of the wild #botw photography #botw screenshot #botw screenshots #zelda fandom #nintendo switch #nintendo #gaming

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botwstoriesandsuch · 5 years

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Memes and Funny (...are they funny?) Posts

Back to Masterlist

Sorted By Character, chronologically:

= = = = = Link = = = = =

- Parry This

- You Fool!

- Plan of Action

- Sad Frog Hours

- It’s not easy...

- Hey Link, Who’s That Pokemon?

- Warm Welcome to Zora’s Domain

- The perfect plan to kill the Hylian Champion

- A Major Test of Strength

- Plan of Action (Revalink)

- The decision to be nice is loading, please wait (Revalink)

- Cooking

- The Treasure of Eventide

- This could work for any ship really, not just Revalink

- I’m not spending 80 rupees on a fancy bed! The wilderness works just fine

- OH WOULD YOU LOOK AT THAT

- Cholesterol

- More niche BDG memes

- Purposeful chaos, or accidental solutions?

- [Submission] Link so hot

- Battling the Bees

- You know

- Revalink Day 3: Feathers

- Alternate Caption: Me and the bois at 3am looking for bEANS

- Cinnamon Bun Graph, very factual

- What did I do last night?

- Link thinks microwaving is cooking

- Alternate Champion Ability Reactions/Dialogue

- BOTW but it’s text messages on my phone

- Types of Revalink fics

- MORE BOTW but it’s text messages on my phone

- Sad Frog Hours (yes I made this joke already, but I’m promoting my discord server with frog emotes)

- Why’d you get jumped?

= = = = = Zelda = = = = =

- Take This Ganon!

- Sad Frog Hours

- Zelda with short hair

- Cholesterol

- More niche BDG memes

- Purposeful chaos, or accidental solutions?

- Zelda sweetie, I am so sorry

- Cinnamon Bun Graph, very factual

- Sad Frog Hours (yes I made this joke already, but I’m promoting my discord server with frog emotes)

= = = = = Yunobo = = = = =

- Purposeful chaos, or accidental solutions?

- Cinnamon Bun Graph, very factual

- BOTW but it’s text messages on my phone

- Some quick Yunobo appreciation

- Thankfully, Nintendo spared us Yunobo with *this* haircut

= = = = = Teba = = = = =

- Offering help

- FRIED CHICKEN???????????????

- Well at least we got a cool fact out of the fried chicken...

- Purposeful chaos, or accidental solutions?

- Teba is a reckless fool

- *sigh*

- Adoption

- Cinnamon Bun Graph, very factual

- Sean Chiplock speaks the truth

= = = = = Sidon = = = = =

- Purposeful chaos, or accidental solutions?

- Cinnamon Bun Graph, very factual

- UwU

- BOTW but it’s text messages on my phone

- Sharkboy and Lavagirl

= = = = = Riju = = = = =

- Purposeful chaos, or accidental solutions?

- Cinnamon Bun Graph, very factual

- BOTW but it’s text messages on my phone

- Riju Appreciation Hour

= = = = = Daruk = = = = =

- Purposeful chaos, or accidental solutions?

- We built this city

- Cinnamon Bun Graph, very factual

- Alternate Champion Ability Reactions/Dialogue

= = = = = Revali = = = = =

- Plan of Action (Revalink)

- Masterfully hiding his feelings (Kinda Revalink)

- Yeah, I’m a gamer

- The decision to be nice is loading, please wait (Revalink)

- Before and After

- Oblivious Actions no context

- This could work for any ship really, not just Revalink

- Purposeful chaos, or accidental solutions?

- Revalink Day 3: Feathers

- Meeting other people

- All about me baby

- Unnamed upcoming one-shot no context idk maybe I’ll delete this later

- Cinnamon Bun Graph, very factual

- That’s him officer!

- Link thinks microwaving is cooking

- Alternate Champion Ability Reactions/Dialogue

- BOTW but it’s text messages on my phone

- Types of Revalink fics

- Sean Chiplock speaks the truth

- MORE BOTW but it’s text messages on my phone

- Rivali

- This is an effective way to motivate me

- Why’d you get jumped?

- I love Revali a lot ok

= = = = = Mipha = = = = =

- Purposeful chaos, or accidental solutions?

- Do, Re, Mi, Fa, and other facts

- Cinnamon Bun Graph, very factual

- Alternate Champion Ability Reactions/Dialogue

= = = = = Urbosa = = = = =

- A shockingly good joke

- Purposeful chaos, or accidental solutions?

- Zelda sweetie, I am so sorry

- Cinnamon Bun Graph, very factual

- Alternate Champion Ability Reactions/Dialogue

- Sharkboy and Lavagirl

= = = = = Botw Hats and Such = = = = =

- Frogs in Hats

- Hats off to ya

- Lynels but snazzy

- Lizolfos but jazzy

- Dogs in hats

- Lad of the Mountain

- Moose in a hat

- Molduga Chinchilla in a hat

- Blupees in hats

- Hinox in a hat

- Goats in hats

- Crickets in hats

- Tulin in a hat

- Yellow butterfly in a hat

- Revali in a hat

- Bokoblin in a hat

- Yunobo in a hat

- Zelda in a hat

- Zelda in a taller hat

- Sidon in a hat

- Riju in a hat

- Bolson in a hat

- Beedle in a hat

= = = = = Other = = = = =

- Who’s That Pokemon? The Sequel

- It’s Either Me or the Cuccos! - said the divorced lady

- Priorities during the apocalypse

- Cursed, yet I’m hilarious

- I just want to enjoy the view...

- If you’re not attracted to this, you’re wrong

- Korok Revelations

- The Gerudo take no shit

- I make good jokes I swear

- The Trojan Horse

- More Korok Truths Revealed

- Did you know that...?

- The Sheikah Cliques

- I’ve immortalized my victory, REVALI IS TALLER THAN LINK YOU FOOL

- Runes and alignments

- I’ve only played Breath of the Wild

- Everyone wants to hear them see those three words...

- Chaotic Rito Protection

- You know

- *sigh*

- Kass Vibin

- Stacking the Kass Vibes (Zoom out for best experience)

- You know, part 2, electric boogaloo

- Transparent Teba for your icon needs

- More various character transparents

- Cinnamon Bun Graph, very factual

- I attempt to explain Twilight Princess

- Kass singing to his daughters but also attempting to be “hip” (and succeeding obviously)

- This is skyward sword right?

- Kipo meme

- Reasons why BOTW is a terrible, terrible game

- BOTW but it’s Parks and Rec

- The Golf Mini Game In The Tanager Canyon

- Frog Song

- Better alternative names for Rito Village

- “Human Town”

- Parry the Platypus

- how to write

- What’s Kilton’s deal?

- The Poison

- Zonai Runes Analysis

- Everything Stays

- The fish fucker secret...

- The Sidlink company

- An adventurous Korok

- Fellas is it gay

- Slime Rancher

- How do Gorons reproduce...

- Hey Hylia, wtf

- We Didn’t Start The Fire

- Botw Ask Game

- The Yiga Mask has one eye and it isn’t for seeing

- BOTW but it’s text messages on my phone

- MORE BOTW but it’s text messages on my phone

- Hudson, Bolson, and Arson

- “lol what”

- The origins of cosplayers

- Robbie has fought god and won

#masterlist #botwstoriesandsuch masterlist #memes

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thesimplyluxuriouslife · 3 years

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306: 25 British Petit Plaisirs (and a new category for all of TSLL's Simple Pleasures)

The French define le Petit Plaisir as a simple indulgence that brings great pleasure and enjoyment. In English, the translation is easy to note - small pleasures, yet significant in their ability to elevate the everyday.

This week on the blog is TSLL's 3rd Annual British Week, and while yes, the term Petit Plaisirs is notably French, my affinity for the British culture is grounded in so many of the Brits' daily rituals, appreciation for nature which surrounds each waking day, and the dogged determination to keep calm and carry on coined and released to the public in 1939 in an effort to steel the nerves and assuage the fears of the impeding war.

As I sat down this past Saturday, savoring a weekend to spent entirely at home, I took a moment and glanced about. So much of how I structure my own everydays welcomes British influences. Most seemingly simple, but others which have come about intentionally, with patience and clear-eyed understanding of the comfort they would bring into my life and sanctuary.

Today I would like to share with you 25 British-inspired Petit Plaisirs, and please do share in the comments, rituals or routines you welcome into your own life which are inspired by your Anglophile predilections.

Quickly, on the topic of Petit Plaisirs, I have added something to the blog I think readers and listeners alike will appreciate. First, I want to give a tremendous thank you to listener of the podcast and long-time reader of TSLL blog Margaret for suggesting I create a specific category for Petit Plaisirs. While most are shared on a Podcast episode's show notes, readers have had a difficult time finding the Petit Plaisirs they wish to further explore from episodes passed. I don't know why I didn't think of the idea sooner, but it has finally been created!

Now you will find in the Archives here on TSLL blog, a category titled Petit Plaisirs. You will find all of the Petit Plaisir posts which began what eventually came to be part of the podcast, as well as moving forward, each Petit Plaisir from each podcast episode will have its own post (linked directly in the Show Notes for each episode).

Now to the list of British-inspired Petit Plaisirs!

1.A knitted or quilted tea cosy for the teapot

2. The fresh scent of rain, and then the much anticipated breaking through of the sunshine

3. A sweet treat from the Great British Baking Show's finalist Jane Beedle's recipe archives

https://www.instagram.com/p/CBAMDixhlSy/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link

4. Enjoying a cuppa and your favorite pairings - newspapers, breakfast, etc. - in bed

18 Ways to Enjoy a Good Cuppa

5. Sitting in a pub enjoying a beer with good company (yes, I said it - a beer! But when in Britain! :))

6. Birdwatching, listening to birdsong, anything to do with birds and appreciating their gifts of delicate, amazing beauty and melodious music.

7. An umbrella at the ready which has stood the test of time - handmade or wooden stick if possible.

8. Snuggling up in a down and feather stuffed sofa or armchair, listening to the rain, whilst sipping a hot cuppa.

9. Nigel Slater recipes - how they are written - whether you make the dish or not, you are lulled into a state of calm

10. Meandering on the country roads lined with dry stone walls whether on foot or in a vehicle - the sight took my breath away when I saw it for the first time, and I long to return again.

11. Roses, simply cut from the shrub or the climber or rambler in the garden and brought into the home to add a summer fragrance from the garden.

12. Watching a cosy mystery set in the countryside of Britain (view a long list of favorites here)

The Art of the British Cosy Mystery: 16 British Cosy Mysteries to Enjoy

13. Enjoy a good hearty chuckle whilst watching a British comedy - The Vicar of Dibley comes to mind (thank you to TSLL reader Kameela for bringing this series from the 1990s to my attention)

14. Sitting next to a roaring fire after stepping in from the cold or rainy outdoors

15. Savoring an afternoon tea ritual in your own company and from time to time with others as well, but regular, often and without exception.

16. Slipping into a hot bath as the rain whips against the window and the house

17. Anything with Mary Berry (Simple Comforts, Country House Secrets, Mary Barry Cooks, GBBO, Everyday)

18. Walking along the sand at anytime of the year for its restorative fresh air and soothing sound

19. Time with pups or cats or horses or any other animal which is considered part of the family

20. Vintage or charity or thrift shop perusing and finding something you didn't know you needed until you saw it

21. Spending time in one's garden and losing it as well (time, that is)

22. Watching episodes of The Great British Baking Show or GBBO (Great British Bake-Off)

23. Enjoying a meal made with your own garden-grown vegetables, herbs, or fruit

24. Spending Friday evening or Saturday morning watching the latest episode of Gardeners' World on BritBox (BBC2)

7 Reasons to Watch Gardeners' World w/Monty Don (whether you are a gardener or not)

25. Enjoy tea or breakfast (as shown in the image at the top of the post) outside in the garden or on the garden terrace or porch letting the birdsong be your background music, your pets be your companions and whatever you are savoring, doing so with a cuppa and a pot of tea snuggled in a tea cosy.

Wishing you many moments to savor everyday life, elevated by inspiration from the British culture.

Petit Plaisir

~Leonardo, series (Amazon Prime, UK), soon to be released in the US

Starring Aidan Turner from Poldark fame

8 episodes in Season 1 (released in the UK in March 2021)

Each episode will examine one of da Vinci’s artworks for hidden clues about a tortured artist struggling for perfection.

View the individual post for this week's Petit Plaisir here.

https://youtu.be/1SgwpIZybmU

VIEW ALL POSTS SHARED DURING THIS YEAR’S British Week, on TSLL

15 British-based Books Worth Reading for a Variety of Reading Interests

The 1st Giveaway of British Week 2021 - A British Magazine Subscription of Your Choice

Become a TOP Tier subscriber to enter all six giveaways being shared during this week's British Week celebration. Learn more about the options for subscribing here.

~The Simple Sophisticate, episode #306

~Subscribe to The Simple Sophisticate: iTunes | Stitcher | iHeartRadio | YouTube | Spotify

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torestoreamends · 7 years

Text

Moramortia: Chapter 11

Harry and Draco visit Malfoy Manor to set up a trap for the boys. Meanwhile, Albus and Scorpius have a snowball fight, meet some baby dragons, and continue their search for Fawkes.

Read it on AO3 / Pick a chapter

Chapter XI A Nice Day

"Seven Basilisk Teeth, crushed," Draco recites, pacing across the Potters' kitchen.

"They have those," Harry says, studying the crumpled piece of paper that's lying on the table in front of him.

"One vial of Phoenix Tears," Draco continues, ticking them off on his fingers. "A single memory of love. A single bottle of Love Potion."

Harry shakes his head. "They could make that themselves. I'm sure Albus would know how to make a love potion; Scorpius too. It would take time, but they could do it."

"Would they have the ingredients?" Draco asks, glancing at him.

Harry sighs. "They left you a note. They've been planning this. Of course they'd have the ingredients." The hint of frustration and impatience in his voice is enough to set Draco on edge.

"It was just a thought," he snaps. "I'm trying to think here. And I don't know why you're so upset. Your son isn't in danger this time. He'll come home at the end of this in one piece. Alive, unscathed, with his whole future ahead of him. While my son-" He breaks off, choking on the words. He turns his back on Harry and looks out of the kitchen window into the dark, cold night. "Scorpius might not."

"It's not safe for either of them," Harry murmurs. "There have been all those Werewolf attacks in Wales. And the Grindylows up in Scotland. There was a Dementor sighting in Yorkshire the other day, and-"

"That's really comforting," Draco says, tone dripping with sarcasm. "I appreciate the emotional support." He turns back to Harry and slides the parchment away from him. "The remnants of a sacrifice."

Harry runs a hand through his hair, making it stick right up on end, even worse than usual. "I can only think of a couple of those."

"Any Scorpius would know about?" Draco asks, glancing at him.

Harry meets his eyes. "Do you think he would go to Godric's Hollow? We were all there. We all saw it. What my mum did... Do you think he might consider that? Or do you think Albus might?"

Draco nods, and he hasn't felt this certain in hours. Now the idea has been spelled out for him it seems obvious, and as much as he doesn't want to give Harry credit... He might be onto something here. "I think it's likely. I think it's very likely. As much as it pains me to admit it, you've been Scorpius's hero since he first heard your name. If he were going to go anywhere it would be somewhere to do with you..." He folds the parchment up and runs his fingers along the crease, sharpening it. "Is there anything there they could take?"

Harry shrugs and gets to his feet. "It depends what the recipe means by remnants. There are still bits of the house. There's probably dust and debris. If they could take a chunk of wood or something... It wouldn't be easy to stop them taking things – I don't even know if you want to stop them getting the ingredients. But we could intercept them. There aren't many ways into Godric's Hollow. We could get the Aurors covering the house. Let them pick up what they need, and then catch them on the way out." Harry looks at Draco.

Draco can feel Harry's gaze on him, intent and focused with determination. His energy level has picked up in an instant, and he's buzzing now, raring to go. The problem is it's just a little bit distracting. It makes it a little bit harder to think straight. Harry's opinion is so clear, that it's not easy for Draco to think through his own.

Of course it makes sense to pick them up and get them to safety. And if this potion is the only thing that will keep Scorpius alive then it makes sense to let them get the ingredients first. But what if they don't go to Godric's Hollow? And Aurors can't see through invisibility cloaks any more than anyone else can. This plan isn't infallible, but if they can have a back up... The more nets there are for the boys to try and slip through, the less likely they are to escape.

"Scorpius's old wand was made of willow wood," he says, meeting Harry's eyes. "The last item on the list, two pieces of willow wood."

Harry blinks at him, expression brightening even more. "Did he keep it?"

Draco nods. "When he got back to school after everything that happened, he went to the Owlery and collected the pieces. He used to keep them in a drawer in his room. I don't know if they're still there, but-"

"It's a chance," Harry says, eyes shining. "Which brings us up to a grand total of two chances. I can get the Aurors in position, and we can go to the Manor and see if the shards are still there. We can leave a spell on them, to tell us if anyone touches them. I'll make it undetectable. We'll find them, Draco. We'll bring Scorpius home."

"And if the shards aren't there?" Draco asks. "We'll be back down to just one chance again."

"No we won't," Harry says confidently. "That last line of the recipe. It has to be drunk in the presence of the person who loves the patient the most. That's you. They have to come home and find you."

Draco doesn't nod. He curls the edge of the parchment round his finger and bows his head. He hopes Harry is right. If anyone loves Scorpius more than he does then it'll feel like a failure. And there's another problem too. Scorpius might not even make it long enough to come home and drink the potion. That might be too late. They can't wait that long. They can't rely on that. This has to be over before then.

"Get the Aurors summoned," he says, still not looking at Harry. "Send them to Godric's Hollow. And then we can both go to the Manor."

---

The night is beginning to brighten to a cold, grey pre-dawn when they arrive at the Manor. Draco climbs the front steps and stops in front of the door, which creaks slowly open. Inside, the house is cold and dark. He knows it'll be dusty, and it has a somewhat abandoned feel. They haven't been here for months. Every day has been spent at St Mungo's, and visits here have been brief and functional. It hasn't been truly lived in since October.

He stares in at the black foyer, cloaked in creeping shadows. The sun is rising slowly, but not enough to send light spilling in through the windows. Even the light from their lit wands doesn't percolate far beyond the doorway. The sweeping shape of the main staircase climbs through the darkness, flanked by the skeletons of the dried-out flowers that Draco hasn't had time to replace.

He doesn't make any move to go into the house because the truth is that he doesn't want to be inside it. He especially doesn't want to go to Scorpius's room. All his best memories of this place are memories of Scorpius and Astoria. Just the idea of the place now, the corridors where Scorpius learned to walk, the windowsills where he'd sit and read in the sunshine, the music room and library where he and Astoria would sit and talk together for hours, it all hurts too much. And he doesn't need Harry to see that pain.

But if it might help; if it might help protect Scorpius... A bit of pain now is nothing compared to the relief of having his son back with him, safe.

"Come in," Draco says, trying to sound casual and polite, like Harry has come round for afternoon tea.

"Thanks," Harry replies, and he follows Draco into the house.

As they cross the threshold, the Manor recognises Draco's presence, and the lamps all around the foyer flare into life. Golden light floods the room, illuminating the cobwebs that have been spun between the bannister posts running up the stairs. Draco extinguishes his wand, then waves it to sweep the cobwebs away. Another flick removes some of the dust from the carpet, and a final one vanishes the dried up flowers.

"Scorpius's room is upstairs," Draco says, gesturing upwards.

Harry nods, Noxes his wand, and keeps pace with Draco as they walk up to the first floor.

Scorpius's room is the neatest Draco has ever seen it. Usually, even when he's been asked to tidy it, it's strewn with clothes and books and spare parchment. There's normally at least one set of robes, an odd sock, and a jumper or two on the floor, but right now everything is clean and bare. The bed, with its Slytherin bedspread, is neatly made. The shelves are tidy, books all straight. It's so uncharacteristically uncluttered that Draco almost turns round and walks straight back out again, but he resists. He swallows and steps into the room.

"He keeps important things down here," he says, trying not to look too much at anything as he crosses to the set of drawers beside the wardrobe and pulls the bottom one open.

Behind him, Scorpius's bed creaks as Harry sits down on the edge of it. "He's a lot tidier than Albus."

"No he isn't," Draco says. "You've seen their dorms at school. This place is usually a mess. You should be grateful that Albus is as tidy as he is. I think he's a good influence on Scorpius in that respect."

"I'm glad there's something you think my son is useful for," Harry says, and the bed creaks again. Draco glances round to see him leaning forward, elbows on his knees, rubbing his eyes behind his glasses.

"There are plenty of reasons why I think Albus is a good influence on Scorpius," Draco says. "I just wish they'd run away less. If Albus were less impulsive, he'd be perfect. But I suppose he never stood a chance in that department, having you as a father."

He starts sifting through the detritus in Scorpius's drawer. There are several peacock feather quills, some letters from Albus, the photo album that Albus had given him as a birthday present back in fifth year.

There's a nature book that Scorpius and Astoria had made when Scorpius was little, full of pressed flowers and sketches. All the letters Astoria had left for him that he's received so far are neatly piled up together, along with a beautiful, ancient copy of The Tales of Beedle The Bard that she'd given him, all wrapped up inside a silk bag that's enchanted to preserve the crumbling pages and cracked leather binding.

And right at the bottom, beneath it all, are the broken halves of Scorpius's old wand. The willow wood is pale, with a bold, dark grain running around it. Where it's split, there's a bit of silvery unicorn hair poking out. The hair is unbroken, and seems to be the only thing connecting the two halves together. As Draco looks at it, he can see faint silver sparks crackling up and down the hair, like the wand is still struggling to do magic, still full of pent-up energy that will never be unleashed.

As gently as he can, careful not to damage the wand any further, he lifts it out of the drawer and turns to Harry.

"It's still here. I thought he'd have it with him, but... it's here."

Harry gets up off the bed and comes over, crouching down beside Draco. "Do you think that's a good sign? If it's here will he come looking for it?"

"How am I supposed to know that?" Draco asks, frustrated. "I don't know what he's doing, Potter. I don't know what he's thinking. If I knew for certain we wouldn't be in this mess."

"Do you ever wish you knew him better?" Harry asks, gazing down at the broken bits of the wand.

"Is that supposed be an insult to my parenting?" Draco asks, looking up at him. "Because I hardly think you're in a position to judge my relationship with my son when you barely manage to keep up with who Albus is dating."

Harry runs a hand through his hair. There's a bit at the back that's sticking bolt upright, and Draco dearly wishes it wouldn't. "It wasn't an insult," he says. "They're growing up. Albus seems to change every day. He's a mystery to me. There are things I think I know, but he doesn't talk to me, even now everything's better. He doesn't need me anymore. Sometimes I look at him and there's an adult there who I barely recognise." He shakes his head. "I still remember when he was tiny... One afternoon we couldn't find him anywhere, and we were terrified that something had happened to him. But in the end we found him sitting inside the hen house. He'd climbed in there and was sitting in the dark with straw in his hair and all these little chicks curled up in his lap. That's still how I expect him to be. But then I look at him, and he's Albus, he's in love with your son, and he wants to be an Auror, and I don't remember when he got so tall."

Draco gently replaces the broken halves of Scorpius's wand in the drawer and looks around the room. "Astoria and I covered this house with Cushioning Charms when he first learned to walk. You've seen this place. My father filled it with sharp corners and hard surfaces, and expensive, breakable objects. It's not the sort of place you want a curious, accident-prone child."

Harry hesitates for a moment, staring into the drawer, then he glances at Draco. "Do you think we've done a bad job of protecting them?" He asks. "They've had more than their fair share of escapades. They had to save the world for us."

Draco shakes his head. "No. Maybe we could have done better, but the world is a dangerous place. We can't cast Cushioning Charms to catch them if they fall forever. Anyway, Scorpius has been able to cast his own Cushioning Charms since he was twelve years old. He's remarkably good at them. I just hope it'll be enough." He looks at Harry. "All we can do is teach them how to look after themselves and then hope we did a good enough job. If we did then maybe we'll get them home safely. But even then... things happen, we know that as well as anyone."

Harry sighs and draws his wand. "We do. I'd just rather none of those things happened to Albus. Or Scorpius."

"I think it's too late for that. Scorpius is already sick. They're in this mess together. All we can do is hope they pull through."

"The sooner we find them the better," Harry says.

He points his wand into the drawer, aiming for the broken pieces of Scorpius's wand, and casts a spell that wraps around them, coating them in golden light for a moment, before the light seems to sink into the wood and the surrounding objects, like it's been absorbed in their very fabric. There's no sign that they've been touched, or that there's any spell on them. If Draco hadn't seen Harry cast it, he wouldn't have been able to tell without performing complicated magic of his own.

"We'll know if they pick these up," Harry says, tucking his wand away again. "It's the best we've got."

"That and your Aurors."

Harry nods. "The Aurors should help. Now." He looks at Draco. "It's been a really long night. How do you feel about some breakfast?"

Draco isn't hungry. He actually feels slightly sick. But he's so tired that he'll go along with anything, particularly if it's warm and comforting and will distract him.

"As long as there's good quality tea."

"We have tea bags," Harry says, getting to his feet.

Draco pulls a face and gets up, nudging the drawer shut with his foot. "I think I'll go and get some of my loose-leaf from downstairs."

---

Dear Dad,

I hope you're okay. I still miss you, but things are better here now.

I've managed to stop Albus being an idiot and we're speaking again, which is nice. I told him that I didn't think Mum would have ever stopped living the way she wanted to because she was ill, and I'm not going to either. I think he understands now. I

don't know if I ever talked to you about that, about how I need to live my own life and not be deterred by being sick. How I need to keep fighting and existing just like she did. But you knew her, so I hope you understand that more easily than Albus did.

I hope I can be as brave as she was. I'm trying my best. I hope I can make her proud, and you proud. I want to live up to what she did, her strength and courage, how she still had so much love to give despite all the pain. But I also really want to come home in one piece too. I want to see you again, Dad.

I'm feeling good at the moment, and I'm certain we can do this. I had some blips, and it's been hard, but now Albus is back onside I think I'm going to be okay. We had a quiet day yesterday, because I was exhausted and really needed to rest. Albus's route marches were taking a lot out of me. But today, now I feel good again, we're going to get back to looking for Fawkes. I'm optimistic about it. No sightings yet, but we're going to the north of the island today. Albus said we might see some Kelpies! There's one that's rumoured to live in a whirlpool at the top of the island. There was a book about it on the shelf in the bothy we're staying in, and we read it together. There's some really fascinating history here. Maybe when I get better we should come here on holiday one time and do some real exploring.

I'll keep you posted on our progress, although I really hope you never have to read these letters. I want to tell you all this myself when I see you again! Which I will. Soon. I hope.

Love, Scorpius

He's just signed his name with a flourish and is reading over what he's written, when Albus comes bursting back into the bothy, cheeks pink from the cold, bringing with him a swirl of frigid wind.

Scorpius glares at him and pulls the blankets tighter around his body. "You're making it cold. Do you have to do that?"

Albus slams the door shut behind him, and looks at Scorpius, eyes shining, a huge grin on his face, breathless and excited. "You have to get up right now."

Scorpius looks around at the cosy nest he's made himself on the bottom bunk and shakes his head. "It warm here. What did you find? It isn't Fawkes, is it? Or food? I'll come if there's breakfast."

Albus sighs. "Your stomach." He digs through his backpack for a moment and finds a Cauldron Cake, which he throws at Scorpius. "Breakfast."

Scorpius fumbles it as he tries to catch it and it rolls onto the floor, just out of reach. "Albus..." he says, leaning off the side of the bed and swiping at it with his hand. "Please can you pick that up for me?"

"No," Albus says. "You don't have time to eat that now anyway. You have to come and see the Merpeople."

Scorpius falls out of bed and onto the floor with a crash. The sleeping bag and blankets tangle around his legs, Bathilda the Bat gets crushed beneath him, and his letter gets crumpled. He stares up at Albus in amazement. "Merpeople? There are Merpeople out there?"

Albus nods. "In the sea. Come on."

Scorpius doesn't need telling twice. He wriggles free of the blankets and claws himself upright. "I need clothes," he says, looking around for them. "I can't go out in pyjamas. I'll freeze to death and my dad will kill me."

Albus grins and throws a jumper, t-shirt, and pair of jeans at him. "Hurry up or they'll be gone."

Two minutes later, the pair of them are packed up and standing outside the hut. It's a touch milder than the day before, but Scorpius is still shivering as he finishes winding his scarf around his neck. A thick blanket of grey cloud looms overhead, and the sea is the colour of iron without any sun shining on it. But despite how unwelcoming it looks, there's a group of young Merpeople floating among the boiling, foaming waves.

"I don't think I've ever seen them in person before," Scorpius murmurs as he tucks the loose ends of his scarf inside his jacket. "Never through the windows at school... or when we were in the lake that time. This is amazing."

Albus's gentle hand smooths down his back, presumably chasing a few creases away. "I told you that you should come outside."

Scorpius glances at him and smiles, nudging their shoulders together. "I suppose I should know by now that you're usually right."

Albus smirks and shakes his head. "Not usually. Always."

"That is stretching the truth to breaking point," Scorpius says, but he leans comfortably against Albus's side and watches the Merpeople swim.

One of the youngest ones, who can only be five or six years old, strays away from their older companions and starts swimming out to seat, tiny tail flipping, full of determination.

Scorpius frowns. "Do you think that one is- oh." Just as he's about to ask Albus if the little Merperson is okay, a misty jet shoots up out of the water, and a gleaming grey back breaches the surface. It's an ordinary, non-magical whale, and swimming up beside the little Merperson, who seems perfectly happy with its presence. They stretch a hand out to pat its nose, and the whale nudges at them.

Scorpius takes hold of Albus's hand and squeezes it tightly. "That's the cutest thing I've ever seen," he breathes.

Albus smirks at him. "You're getting sentimental in your old age."

Scorpius elbows him in the ribs. "You think it's cute too."

"Maybe," Albus admits, nudging him back.

They stand on the patch of grass in front of the bothy, hand in hand, and watch the little Merperson and the whale swimming together, until one of the older Merpeople realises what's going on and darts across to drag them away, back to the safety of the group. At that point, the whale sinks back beneath the ocean and out of sight, and Albus tugs gently on Scorpius's hand.

"Come on. We should get going. You see that big mountain over there?" Albus points across the water, to one of the hills rising above the horizon, tall and imposing, the slopes shadowy and dark brown thanks to the cloudy day.

Scorpius groans. "You're going to make me climb that? Really?"

Albus grins at him. "No, I'm just teasing." And he tightens his grip on Scorpius's had and they swirl away into darkness.

"Albus," Scorpius gasps as his feet hit solid ground again and the pressure on his lungs releases. "Severus. Potter. You're a terrible person. I hope you know that."

"I'm very well aware." Albus reaches a hand out to help Scorpius up, and Scorpius leans all his weight in, so Albus ends up hauling him off the floor, face screwed up from the effort. "But you're not much better."

Scorpius smiles and brushes himself off. He's covered in grey dust that's strewn all across the ground here. "So if we're not up a mountain, where are we?"

"We're in the north west of the island," Albus says. "Near to where..." he trails off, looking around them, scanning the ground. "Scorpius?"

Scorpius trots over to him. "Yes, Albus?"

"What would you say this grey stuff is?" He asks, gesturing at the ground, and at Scorpius's jeans.

Scorpius frowns and looks around. The ground is covered so the grey substance, gathered in little mounds, and scattered between the tufts of dried, charred looking grass. "Dust?" He guesses, scuffing his toe through it. It puffs up, swirling in the wind, its consistency too fine for normal dust. "Or ash? The grass is sort of burned here. Maybe someone made a fire." He shrugs and brushes his hands off, more of the grey stuff dancing in the breeze. "Does it matter?"

Albus nods, very serious, and stoops down to pick something up from the floor. He straightens up and holds it out for Scorpius to see, and Scorpius's eyes widen at the sight of the vivid red and gold feather.

"Is that-" He breaks off, too amazed to speak.

"A Phoenix feather," Albus says, and as he meets Scorpius's eyes, Scorpius sees that he's almost effervescent with excitement. Eyes gleaming, barely restraining a grin. He looks like he might explode from the joy of it, and Scorpius isn't sure of the last time he saw him this excited. "I think we've found Fawkes's nest."

Scorpius looks around at the bare, burned patch of ground, filled with ash, and dotted with the occasional flame-bright feather. There's no mistaking the fact that this is definitely a Phoenix's nest. It just has to be. Although there's no way of knowing how recently it's been inhabited. Fawkes certainly isn't here right now.

"Do you think we scared him away when we arrived?" Albus asks. He's now looking up, scanning the grey skies, but there's no sign of red and gold. "Maybe he disappeared; Phoenixes can do that can't they?"

"I think so," Scorpius says. He drops Albus's hand and starts pacing around the area. "Do you think he'll come back? Should we just wait here?"

Albus glances around. "I don't think we should just sit in the middle of his nest. What if we scare him? Maybe we should hide in those bushes instead?" He gestures to a clump of scraggly, low bushes at the edge of the ash strewn patch of land. They're quite small, but Scorpius guesses that if they curled up among them, they'd be almost invisible.

"Me and Mum used to hide behind the bushes in our garden and watch the fairies at night," Scorpius says with a little smile. "Did you ever do things like that?"

Albus pulls a face. "With James for a brother we were lucky to have anything in our garden. He spent all his time thumping around like an Erumpent." He sighs. "I remember Lily and Dad used to go and hunt for fairies in the orchard sometimes, but I never did. I used to leave food out for the Kneazles though. Mum and I would hide behind the Flutterby Bush and watch them. They used to bring their kittens with them in the spring."

"I used to beg Dad to let me have a Kneazle," Scorpius says with a sigh. "But he's allergic, so he always said no."

Albus grins. "Maybe when you're older and move out."

Scorpius smiles back. "That's a good incentive to get this potion made." He sets off towards the bushes, hands dug deep in his pockets for warmth. "I hope you brought some tea! And we're going to need those blankets."

---

It's not comfortable, curled up in the little bit of space between the bushes. The ground is hard, and covered with sharp rocks and twisted roots. They cast layers of Warming Charms around them, and try to thaw out the frost on the ground, but it's still miserable with the wind whipping through their hair.

Albus pulls out the thermos of tea, and they both keep taking sips to stay warm. Scorpius cups his hands round his mug to keep them from feeling frozen. He's convinced his toes are going to get frostbite, and he tells Albus so. Albus tucks the blankets over Scorpius's feet, wraps both his arms round him, and buries his face against his neck. The soft ghosting of his breath makes Scorpius shiver, and he reaches back to ruffle his hair.

"What are you doing?"

"Your neck's warm," Albus says, a bit muffled.

"Yes, I know. But your nose is freezing. It's like a little ice cube."

"Well I'm very sorry," Albus says. But he doesn't sound sorry at all, and he doesn't move, he just snuggles in closer, and soon his breathing slows to the point where Scorpius thinks he might have fallen asleep. It's unfair how Albus can sleep absolutely anywhere. It might be the skill Albus has that Scorpius is most jealous of.

"Albus," he whispers, twisting sideways to look at him.

Albus mumbles something incoherent and tightens his grip on Scorpius, nuzzling closer. Scorpius smiles and reaches up to ruffle his hair, then he settles down to watch the nest.

It's actually quite comfortable with Albus draped against him. Albus's body is as warm as any of the blankets, and his weight helps too. Despite the potions, it makes Scorpius's chest ache, being able to feel Albus's breathing and heartbeat; the little shivers they send up and down his spine, but it's worth it. This is what he wants. Albus, completely and without inhibition. This intimacy is how he always wants life with Albus to be. And if this is the way his life ends then he won't be even a tiny bit unhappy with how things have turned out.

After about twenty minutes of sipping his tea and trying not to wriggle around too much in case he disturbs Albus, he glances up at the sky to check for any sign of the Phoenix, and realises that it's snowing. Big, fat white flakes are swirling out of the grey sky. They're already settling on the Phoenix nest, and clinging to the leaves of the bushes. There are snowflakes in Albus's hair, and Scorpius beams. If there's one thing he loves in this world it's the sight of Albus with snow in his hair. There's something beautiful about the fluffy flakes among the soft, dark curls. It's Christmas, and comfort, and friendship all rolled into one. Warmth even in the coldest places of the world.

"Albus," Scorpius whispers, nudging him gently. "Albus, wake up."

Albus groans and bats him away. "Sshh."

Scorpius grins and presses his face close beside Albus's. His heart feels like it's being constricted as he does it, but he ignores that. "It's snowing. Wake up."

"No," Albus mumbles. "Sleep is better than the cold."

Scorpius kisses him, very gently on the lips, and that gets a reaction. Albus mumbles again, but it sounds a lot happier, and he smiles into it, fingers curling round Scorpius's wrist. When Scorpius pulls away, his eyes are open, and he looks blearily around.

"Oh. It is snowing." He sits up a bit and holds a hand out, catching some of the flakes on his palm. "It's beautiful."

Scorpius, who only has eyes for Albus, nods. "It is."

"And," Albus says, turning back to him. "It's settling. Look." He brushes his fingers across the leaves of the bush nearest to them and scoops up a handful of snow. For a moment he shows it to Scorpius, then with a jerk of his hand, he throws the whole lot in Scorpius's face.

Scorpius gasps and reels back. It's shockingly cold, almost painful on his cheeks, and he hurries to scrub it off. He ends up falling backwards onto the ground with a rustle of bushes, and wriggles to his knees and then to his feet.

"Albus!" He says when he can speak again. "Why would you do that? You're- you're terrible!"

Albus laughs. "My older brother has been a bad influence on me. Are you okay?"

Scorpius shakes his head. "No! No I'm not." He looks around and scrapes his own snowball from one of the bushes. He chucks it at Albus, and is gratified to see that some of it ends up going down the inside of Albus's jacket.

"You really don't want to do that," Albus says, as Scorpius gathers a second handful of snow.

"Oh yes I do," Scorpius says, crunching it up into a tight ball.

Albus sighs and gets to his feet. He trails his fingers across the ground then sizes Scorpius up. They both glare at each other for a long moment, then they move as one, flinging their snowballs and diving for cover to prepare the next one.

The next few minutes are filled with frozen fingers, snow hitting bare skin and thick wool, shrieking and breathless laughter, and insults hurled across their ash-strewn battle ground. Scorpius is aware that they're not encouraging Fawkes to come back by behaving like this, but he's having far too much fun to care.

He draws his wand as he dances away from Albus behind a bush, and banishes a snowball back into Albus's face. "Come on, Potter. Is that really the best you've got?"

Albus's expression has gone bright and blazing, full of determination, and he draws his own wand, sweeping it towards the ground and hurling a great pile of snow at Scorpius. Most of it ends up in the bush that Scorpius is crouched behind, but some ends up scattering through his hair. He shakes his head and pops up again, this time waving his wand through the air around him and making the snowflakes coalesce into a tight, spherical ball.

It's one of the spells he's been learning in the hospital, but he's never had the chance to do it for himself. It feels delightful to be playing around with magic again. It feels like throwing open the doors to a dark and musty room, and letting sunlight and fresh air flood in. It feels like walking through a forest when it's just rained, and everything smells damp and earthy and fresh. It feels like coming home and curling up in his own bed after a long and difficult term away at school. It's joy and homecoming and new life, and while his body is aching, there's no way of telling if it's from the illness or from how hard he's laughing.

With a flick of his wand he sends the snowball flying in Albus's direction. It misses him by inches, but Scorpius is already working to get the spell going again. Snowflakes swirl inwards towards him as he summons and shapes them. He draws in more and more, creating the biggest snowball he's ever made in his life, just because he can.

He's concentrating so hard that he barely hears the beat of approaching wings, but the vague part of his brain that registers the noise recognises that they're not Phoenix wings. They're far too big for that.

The wind picks up, great gusts kicking and whirling around them, sending the snow into wild flurries. Scorpius loses control of the spell as he's battered forward in the blizzard. He puts a hand on the floor to stop himself falling flat on his face, wincing as he bashes his hand against a rock. He pushes himself back to his feet and turns to see the source of the noise, but as he does Albus runs at him and tackles him hard, pushing him back down.

They fall into the bushes. All the wind is knocked out of Scorpius, and he falls on a rock which digs painfully into his hip. He twists round and glares at Albus.

"What on earth was that for?" He asks irritably, sitting back up. "I wasn't trying to actually hurt you. I was-"

Albus grabs his arm and tugs him back down. "Sshh," he says desperately. "Keep still. I don't know if it's dangerous. It might think we look tasty."

"What?" Scorpius asks, confused.

Albus points wordlessly up at the sky, and Scorpius looks above him to see an enormous black dragon soaring overhead.

It flies with bat-like wings outstretched, as huge as ships' sails. Its scales look as rough as the craggy rocks of the islands, sharp and black, and a long line of shallow, spiky ridges runs the length of its long long back. Its tail stretches so far behind it that Scorpius has to strain to see it, and as it flies over it plunges them into shadow for a good few seconds. Purple eyes stare straight ahead, thankfully not looking down at the tiny morsels on the ground below it, and as the sharp arrow point of its tail finally flicks past them, Scorpius breathes a sigh of relief.

He gets to his feet, and Albus's fingers grip his hand.

"Scorpius..."

"It's gone," Scorpius whispers back. "It's not looking for us anyway. I'm sure there are some tasty deer or something it can eat."

Albus gets up, holding tight to Scorpius's hand, and they stare at the black beast that's skimming away from them towards the sea.

"Wow," Scorpius squeaks. He lets go of Albus's hand and fans himself. "That was a wild dragon. A wild, native dragon. We just saw a Hebridean Black, on the actual Hebrides. That actually happened!" He bounces up and down on his toes and gives another squeak of pure joy, flailing his hands.

Albus laughs and clasps his hands together, staring at the dragon with equal delight. "It did actually happen. I can't believe it. I've only ever seen dragons before in the First Task. I never thought I'd see one in real life..." He turns Scorpius, eyes shining. "Thank you."

Scorpius grins at him, slightly confused, but unable to resist smiling when Albus is looking at him like that. "What are you thanking me for?"

Albus shrugs. "You want me here. You let me stay. Without you we wouldn't be here, looking at that." He gestures to the retreating dragon. "This is amazing."

"We wouldn't be here if I wasn't sick," Scorpius says.

"Sometimes good things come from bad situations," Albus says with a little smile.

Scorpius hugs him, ruffling his hair. "I'm glad you're here. I wouldn't have this any other way."

Albus's grip tightens round him, and Scorpius leans into him, taking Albus's support.

"I love you," Albus murmurs, and Scorpius's heart sings. He grins more broadly than ever and buries his face in Albus's shoulder.

The snow swirls around them, icy flakes settling in their hair and on their clothes, and they hear the distant sound of the sea, and the beating of the dragon's wings. Everything is perfectly peaceful and tranquil, until a sudden crack splits the air in two, making them leap apart.

Scorpius spins around, heart racing, and sees a woman with windswept red hair and a long burn scar over one cheek levelling a wand at the two of them. Without thinking, Scorpius steps in front of Albus, arms outstretched. Albus grabs the back of his jacket and tries to pull him aside, but Scorpius stands his ground.

"Don't hurt him."

"You know you lads aren't meant to be playing out here?" The woman says. "It's dangerous. I'd get tae fuck before you get into any more trouble. Your mithers'll be worrying about you."

Scorpius glances back at Albus, who shrugs. Scorpius swallows and turns to face the woman, lifting his chin in defiance.

"We're of age. We're here looking for a Phoenix."

"You look like kids," the woman says, flicking her wand in Albus's direction. "He looks like he's fives year old."

"I'm seventeen," Albus retorts, and Scorpius can practically feel him glaring at her.

"We are of age," Scorpius says. "And we need to be here. We're waiting for the Phoenix to come back."

The woman sighs and pockets her wand. "You'll be waiting a long time. He doesnae live here anymore. This is an auld nest."

Scorpius slumps his shoulders with disappointment, but Albus steps past him, putting a hand on his back.

"Do you know where he is now? We really need to find him. It's important."

The woman looks between the two of them. "How do you even know there is a Phoenix? He's a well-kept secret or everyone would be up here after feathers and tears and ash. Do you have friends on the island?"

"It's a long story," Albus says. "But I promise we're not here to hurt him. We just need his help. Please?"

"Why should I trust you?" She asks, looking between the two of them. "You dinnae look like the sort to hurt him, but we get all sorts around here. People who look innocent but aren't. How do I know you're nae one of them?"

Albus gestures to Scorpius. "He's sick. There's a potion. We need to find the ingredients, so we can cure him. It's very important. Once we've found the Phoenix we'll leave straight away. If we don't find the Phoenix..." Albus swallows. "He'll die." He glances at Scorpius, then looks down at the ground.

The woman scrutinises them for a long moment, then she shakes her head. "I should send you home, but-" She looks at Scorpius. "Dinnae ask me why I trust you, because I really dinnae know." She turns away from them and gestures impatiently for them to follow. They glance at each other, uncertain, then start walking after her.

"The second we've found him," she says, "the two of you have tae bugger off out of here and not come back, understand? Or one of our dragons will end up blasting you. And trust me, you dinnae want that. Even Phoenix Tears will have a hard time clearing up burns from dragon fire."

Albus nods desperately. "We understand. We'll find Fawkes and then leave. We promise."

Scorpius doesn't nod or make any promises. He's too busy frowning at the woman standing in front of them. "When you say 'our dragons'..."

The woman tuts and extends her hands, one to each side. "Come on. If you ask any more questions I'll leave you here tae rot. We dinnae have time for distractions or we'll lose her." She nods up ahead to the distant black space that is the dragon.

Scorpius and Albus glance at each other, uncertain.

"Now!" The woman says, wriggling her fingers, making it quite clear what they're meant to do.

They rush up next to her, and as one take hold of her hands. The second they do, they find themselves swirling into pressing darkness, before stumbling onto a freezing, rocky shoreline.

Sea spray flies up as a wave breaks over a ledge of rock next to them, splashing Scorpius's face with salt water. He stumbles back, wiping it away, and his foot slips on a bit of seaweed. Albus grabs hold of his arms to steady him.

"Are you okay?" He calls over the howling wind, lashing waves, and distant beat of the dragon's wings.

Scorpius nods. "Yup. Is this where Fawkes is nesting?"

Albus looks to the woman, who's standing next to them and looking back inland. She shakes her head at him, and raises her fingers to her lips, letting out a piercing whistle that echoes strangely through the air, reverberating although there isn't much for it to bounce off.

"No," she says. "We're dealing with her first." She gestures up to the dragon.

"Are we safe here?" Scorpius asks, voice coming out a lot more high pitched than he'd meant it to. He takes a step closer to Albus and wraps an arm round his waist, pulling him back behind the woman.

She grins and brushes her hair out of her eyes. "Just stay still and try not tae look too tasty. You'll be fine." She raises her fingers to her lips again and gives another piercing whistle, then she draws her wand and points it skywards, sending a shower of red sparks dancing upwards.

Immediately the distant dragon turns in their direction and seems to look right at them, purple eyes bright and intent through the snow storm. It changes direction with a flick of its tail and starts flying towards them. As it does, it roars, with the sound of an earthquake, or eroded rock tumbling down cliff sides into the sea. Scorpius covers his ears and ducks down low, hoping against hope that he, and more importantly Albus, doesn't look like something that might be good on a dragon barbecue.

As the dragon flies ever closer, her wing beats send gusts of wind swirling around them, flattening the grass, bowing a few scrubby trees, sending the waves lashing backwards and turning to mist. Scorpius grips hold of Albus, worried they might be blown away, and he can see Albus gripping his wand in his pocket, just in case.

Meanwhile, the woman is no longer standing in front of them, guarding them. She's walking away across the rocks, wand held high above her, spilling out flames, like a flare. The dragon is focused on her, and keeps flying towards her, and the woman seems to be guiding her in, showing her where to land.

Down over the boggy land the dragon soars, bat-like wings outstretched, gliding for home. And everything seems to be going perfectly, until the woman takes one step too far, and the dragon roars again, this time spitting a torrent of fire from her mouth, apparently to clear her landing path. The woman is engulfed in fire so thick that she's no longer visible, and Albus yells and leaps to his feet as Scorpius stares in horror at the place where she'd just been standing.

The dragon skims in and settles on the rocks where just moments before a helpful stranger had been standing. But now there's nothing but burned seaweed, steaming water, baked salt, and a mass of black, scaly hide as the dragon curls herself up.

"What do we do?" Scorpius gasps. "That thing just burned her alive. I don't think there's anything left!"

He grips Albus's hand and they go running towards the dragon, but before the two of them get more than a few steps forward, a familiar female voice calls after them.

"Dinnae get any closer!"

They turn as one to see the woman standing on the rocks, breathless but unharmed.

"She's nesting," she says. "If you bother her she'll burn you tae cinders."

"But you-" Scorpius says, staring at her. "The dragon-" He gestures outwards from his mouth, miming breathing fire.

"I'm fast," she says. "Seriously, dinnae go near her. She'll die defending her babies."

"Her... babies?" Scorpius asks, glancing over his shoulder back at the dragon.

As he looks round he sees the stones on the beach moving, and for a brief moment he wonders if he's seeing things. Then he blinks and realises that what he's looking at are five or six tiny black dragons, scales the same texture and colour as the beach around them.

"Oh," he gasps.

"Exactly. Come on, we should leave them tae it. I thought you lads had a Phoenix tae find anyway."

Scorpius has to drag himself away from the tiny dragons. Watching them claw their way across the rocks, tiny bat-like wings scrabbling to find a hold, tails snaking behind them for balance, occasionally coughing up sparks and little spurts of fire, is just irresistible. But after a few seconds of watching, Albus catches hold of his hand, and the two of them follow the woman away from the family.

"Do you two have names?" The woman asks as she strides long ahead of them, glancing over her shoulder.

"James," Albus lies, without a moment's hesitation. It's so impressive that Scorpius pauses in his tracks to stare at him, before Albus's grip tightens on his hand and he remembers that Albus's name isn't meant to be news to him.

Taking his cue from Albus's easy lie, Scorpius casts about for a name that isn't too outlandish or recognisable. All the names in his family are out, his own middle name is too odd, and pretending to be Albus would just be weird, so he settles for the first normal name that comes to him.

"Harry," Scorpius says. "I'm Harry."

Albus gives him a very hard look, and Scorpius replies with an apologetic shrug. Albus rolls his eyes and hurries to catch up with the woman.

"What about you?"

"Sorcha," she says. "Would you two hurry up? I dinnae have all day tae be shepherding bairns around the island."

"Sorry," Albus says. "He's sick, we can't go as fast as normal."

Scorpius ignores him. He rushes forward as fast as he can, trying to keep pace with Sorcha. "What do you do? Do you normally look after that dragon?"

She glances at him and nods. "Not just that one. There are lots of dragons out on these reservations. It's about tae hit hatching season, that lot are one of the earliest nests we have. There's a lot tae do."

"You're a dragon keeper then?"

She nods. "Something like that. But we like tae think we dinnae keep the dragons so much as the dragons keep us."

Scorpius grins at that and drops back to walk beside Albus. His legs are aching from keeping up the fast pace, and he grips Albus's hand tightly, trying to ignore the pain and think about how cool this entire situation is.

"Wild Hebridean Blacks, Albus," he whispers. "Baby wild Hebridean Blacks. We just met a dragon keeper. I've never met a dragon keeper before."

"You've met my uncle," Albus says.

Scorpius waves a hand. "Family doesn't count. And I've never seen him working, or seen any of his dragons. But this-" He sweeps his hand in a circle around them, indicating how amazing beyond words this is. "I can't wait to tell my dad about this. Maybe I should write him another letter, or- Oh!" A thought strikes him and he drops Albus's hand, hurrying forward to catch up with Sorcha again. "Do you have an owl we can borrow?"

"I might. Where are you sending it?"

"To a friend from school. Not far from here." He gestures in the direction of the mainland."

"Hogwarts?" She asks, eyeing him up. "Your friend says he's seventeen. Shouldn't you two still be at school?"

"Sort of," Scorpius says "Technically I'm supposed to be in hospital, but we need to be here like we said. Please can I borrow the owl?"

Sorcha sighs. "Do you want the owl first or the Phoenix?"

"The owl," Scorpius says decisively. "Please."

"Alright. Stop here." She comes to a halt and draws her wand. Scorpius takes the opportunity to sink to the ground. His breath is coming in tight little gasps by now, and his legs feel weak and unsteady. His rests his forehead against his knees.

"Are you okay?" Sorcha asks.

Scorpius nods without looking up, and a moment later he feels Albus's arms circle round him.

"It's fine," Albus tell her. "Go on." He lowers his voice and his fingers brush through Scorpius's hair in smooth, gentle strokes. "Do you need some of the potion?"

"Yeah," Scorpius breathes, pressing his eyes shut. "It's the walking. I get tired. I'm sorry."

"Sshh," Albus chides gently. "Don't apologise." There's the sound of rattling bottles, then Albus's fingers trail across his cheek. "Are you ready to drink?"

Scorpius swallows and nods, lifting his head. His fingers shake as he takes the bottle, and he spills a little of the potion down his front, but he manages to swallow most of it. When he's done he wipes his mouth and buries his face back in his knees. "It tastes awful," he murmurs.

"I know," Albus says, taking the bottle from him and gathering him into a tight hug. "But-"

"It helps," Scorpius finishes, leaning against him. Already he can feel the icy numbness flooding through him. It won't make his legs stronger, but it might make breathing less painful. He'll take anything at this point.

Albus kisses him on the cheek. "Rest until you feel better. I've got you."

"That might take a while," Scorpius mumbles.

Albus just hugs him tighter.

"So when you said he was sick..." Sorcha says, kneeling down next to them. "Is there anything I can do?"

"Just help us find the Phoenix," Albus says. "That's all we need."

"Aye." She reaches out and puts a hand on Scorpius's arm. "Your owl is on the way. Then we can go."

Scorpius nods and runs a hand over his face. He takes a deep breath and pushes himself up straight, hoping he looks composed, and not like he's still aching all over, despite the fact that he can feel the potion working its hardest.

"Albus, can I have some parchment and a quill?"

For a moment he expects Albus to protest, and tell him to save his strength, but instead Albus starts rummaging through the backpack. A few seconds later he presses the parchment and quill into Scorpius's hands and sits back down next to him holding the ink pot. Scorpius dips his quill and starts to write, doing his best not to smudge the glistening lines of ink with his hand or sleeve.

The new letter to his dad isn't that long. There's not much else to say, apart from about seeing the dragons (which he gushes about for three paragraphs), and to tell him that Albus is doing a good job of taking care of him. He signs it with love, but doesn't manage to write his name, because a new sort of steely coldness begins to creep through his veins.

He winces and presses a hand to his shoulder for a second. It's a new feeling, not like the pain, or like the numbness of the potion. It feels like a cold blade piercing him, carving outwards from his heart, and he knows it's part of the illness because it starts up the moment he finishes the last r in 'Love you forever'.

Albus is looking at him, with the sort of expression that says he knows something's wrong, so Scorpius struggles to pull himself together. He flashes Albus a smile and quickly signs his name with a flourish. Then he picks up a second bit of parchment and scribbles a quick explanatory note to Rose, all the while struggling to ignore the biting new pain in his left arm.

It's a relief to finish the note, and when he does, he folds it up and slips it into an envelope, along with all the other letters to his dad, then he bows his head and leans on his right hand, keeping his left arm curled in close to his body. It's easier that way. The idea of using it right now, or moving it at all, makes him feel faintly sick. He hopes the pain will go away soon, because right now he thinks this strange and awful new sensation might be worse than the familiar ache in his chest.

"What's wrong now?" Albus asks quietly. "What happened?"

Scorpius shakes his head. "The same," he lies. "I can deal with it."

Albus kisses him on the cheek and briefly strokes his hair, and thankfully he has the sense not to press any further.

After a moment or two, with a considerable effort, Scorpius straightens himself up and pushes a smile onto his face. "So, how long will the owl be? Time is a-wasting. We don't want Fawkes to have changed nests or something while we've been sitting here. That would be a bit unfortunate." He grins at Albus, who manages a little smile.

Sorcha gestures to a speck in the distance. "He's on his way. Are you sure there's nothing else I can do tae help you both, apart from the owl and showing you the Phoenix nest? I know flowers that can heal, and take away pain. I can give you food. If you need somewhere tae rest, I can give you that too."

Scorpius shakes his head and pushes himself to his feet. He wobbles a bit, and Albus catches hold of his arm to steady him.

"No thank you. The owl is enough."

"Alright," Sorcha says, but she doesn't look convinced.

When the owl arrives it alights on Sorcha's arm and glares around at them, fluffing up its feathers. Sorcha murmurs something to it and strokes a finger across the top of its head.

"Careful when you tie the letters on. He can be a little nippy."

"Thanks for the warning," Scorpius says, pulling his hand back as the owl ducks down to nibble at it.

It takes him three attempts to dodge the beak and claws, and get the letter tied to the owl's leg. When he finally manages it it glares at him and lets out an irritable screech.

"Oh sshh," Sorcha scolds. "He doesnae mind delivering letters, but avoiding having anything tied on is a bit of a game tae him. And he's a terrible loser." She strokes a finger over the owl's head and he twists to try and reach her. "You see?" She looks at Scorpius. "Before I send him, there's nothing else you want tae say? No final words, or-"

She breaks off as Albus makes a strangled little noise, and Scorpius's stomach drops, making him feel faintly sick.

"No," he says, trying to sound calm, and not like he's now assessing every word in those letters to see whether they're adequate as a last message to Rose and his dad. "No, I think that's all for now."

For now. Those won't be the last things his dad reads from him. That's not it. There will be other owls and other letters, and of course he'll go home and talk to his dad in person again. Because he's going to survive. No final words, not for many many years yet, anyway.

"The Phoenix," he says. "We need to find it. Right now. We have to go."

He pushes himself away from Albus and starts stumbling forwards across the rocky ground, feet catching on the tussocks of grass as he goes. It's not easy going, and he nearly twists his ankle at least twice before the other two catch up to him, but intense determination keeps him going. Determination to find the ingredients and get better and go home. It's the thing he wants most in all the world right now.

As they walk, the owl comes skimming low over their heads and disappears off into the distance. Across the sea. Towards Hogwarts.

Scorpius walks faster, linking arms with Albus as they press on, cutting across the island, over boggy ground that clings to their shoes and tries to pull them down, around boulders and scrubby bushes, up rocky slopes that are slippery with little stones, across streams, hopping from rock to rock to try and keep dry. After about fifteen minutes or so, Sorcha stops and points up a slope, towards a flat ridge a little way above them, perched on the side of a hill.

"He'll be in there. And if he's not then that's where he'll come back tae. You might have tae wait a while, but it's not raining, and it's sheltered from the wind, so you should be okay. I suppose you know how tae cast a Warming Charm?"

They both nod, and she seems satisfied.

"Alright then. You shouldn't get lost from here, and I have tae get back tae those hatchlings." She hesitates a moment, then looks at Scorpius. "You two take care of each other. And good luck with the Phoenix." For a second longer she lingers, then she nods. "Slàinte mhòr agus a h-uile beannachd duibh. I hope you boys make it home soon." She raises a hand, and something like magic washes over Scorpius from head to toe, and warm and tingly. Some of the pain in his arm fades away, and he rubs his shoulder, a faint smile crossing his lips. After a moment the tingling fades, but the warmth remains as Sorcha turns and walks away back towards her dragons.

Scorpius draws in a breath and glances across at Albus, who is staring at her with the same slightly stunned expression. He looks exactly the way Scorpius feels, like there's some strange, mesmerising spell on him.

"Okay?" Scorpius asks, giving him a gentle nudge.

Albus shakes himself. "Yeah. Fine. Really good. Should we, um-" he gestures up the hill. "Fawkes."

"Uh huh," Scorpius agrees, and he sets off walking.

It doesn't hurt quite so much now, struggling up the hill. His legs feel a bit lighter, his muscles less stiff. He has more energy. And even though there's still a soft whirl of snowflakes falling down around him, he doesn't feel cold. It's like there's a little flame burning somewhere inside him, flickering, shedding warmth and light. He even feels more positive. They will find Fawkes at the top of this hill.

For a bit, Albus reaches across and holds his hand, and they climb side by side, silent because they're breathing too hard to talk. They're climbing faster than they normally might, anticipation driving them on.

After five minutes or so, the slope gets too steep. They drop each other's hands and clamber up, grabbing at rocks, hands scrabbling against the loose ones and gripping the steady ones for dear life. Scorpius is careful to just keep staring at the slope, not to look up or down and think about where they are or how far they have to go. At one point he dares to look up and sees the lip of the ridge just above him, but he ducks his head down and tries not to think about what that means.

Apparently Albus is still looking though. He glances up every now and again, puffing out breaths, face set with ever more determination. He looks like he'd be willing to carry Scorpius to the top if he had to, the way his jaw is tight and his eyes are burning.

And then, all of a sudden, as he spares another glance up the slope, his eyes go wide and his hand darts out to grab Scorpius's.

"Phoenix!" He gasps, pointing wildly above them.

Scorpius looks up straight away, and sees a flash of red and gold soaring through the falling snowflakes. "He's there," he says in amazement.

"I know," Albus shouts. "Come on!" And then his hand tugs on Scorpius's, and it's all Scorpius can do to hold on as they turn sideways into darkness.

When they emerge his feet skid on loose gravel and ash, and he takes a second to look around and realise they're in the Phoenix nest. Albus has Apparated them to the top of the slope.

"Isn't that going to scare him away?" Scorpius asks, still trying to get his bearings. He looks up at the sky but there's just grey cloud, and no Phoenix.

Albus swears. "Yes. Look." He points out towards the sea, where a scarlet streak is disappearing. "Come on we have to chase him. We can't let him get away."

"Won't that just make it worse?" Scorpius's voice is high-pitched with adrenaline and excitement and fear.

"Maybe but we have to try," Albus says, and he grips Scorpius's hand tighter, Apparating again.

This time they end up right underneath the Phoenix. Scorpius spots him above them the second they emerge from the blackness. Albus spots him too and starts sprinting after him, wrenching Scorpius's arm from its socket.

"I can't run as fast as you," he yells, panting and trying to keep up. "Albus, this is-"

They're in darkness again, and it knocks all the wind out of him, so when they appear once more he stumbles and falls to his knees. "Albus! Wait, I-"

Albus isn't holding his hand anymore. He doesn't seem to care. He's running with the desperation of someone possessed. As he runs he yells at the Phoenix to stop, and he keeps Apparating. He gets further and further away, vanishing and reappearing a few metres ahead, then vanishing again and reappearing, sprinting the whole time.

Scorpius doesn't know how he has the energy. Doesn't know how his legs haven't given out. Doesn't know how he can breathe. Doesn't know how he can possibly Apparate and run while yelling and begging. But he is. He's doing it, and he does it over and over and over again.

Crack. Crack. Crack. Back down the hill. And he might be gaining some ground. He might be keeping up. Fawkes might be getting the message.

But then, as Scorpius drags himself to his feet and thinks about following him, there's another crack, and then Albus appears at the bottom of the slope. He collapses and rolls over the stony ground with an awful yelp of pain and a crashing of glass. And then there's silence.

The whole world goes numb. Scorpius's heart constricts with fear.

"Albus!" He yells.

Nothing.

"Albus," he gasps. "No no no no no. Albus!"

He scrambles to his feet and starts tumbling down the hill. He's shaking, and the whole world seems to have been blotted out somehow, closing in so all that's left is that one terrible scream. He doesn't know where the Phoenix is, and he isn't sure he cares. The only thing that matters in the world now is Albus.

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