#CH PRODUCTS THROTTLE

[retrocgads]

USA 1997

[fanfictionaries]

Oh So Many Years: Ch. 9 - Just A Little Bit

Pairing: Hermione Granger x Fred Weasley

Summary:

With Hermione and Harry's friendship mended, and her bond with the twins, strengthening, Hermione finds herself looking up. The only thing left to do is fix Ron's attitude and keep herself from throttling Rita Skeeter the next time she sees her.

Fred and George have found relief in both Hermione's help and her friendship. Unfortunately, as a result they've been neglecting their other friends and someone isn't too shy to point it out to them.

Warnings: Swearing, Death, Smut/18+ NSFW

Author’s Note:

I update every week before midnight on Sundays (US MST)! Please feel free to like, comment, and reblog! xoxo

Masterlist

<< Chapter 8

Oh, no I'm not the one, oh, you can ignore I'm not like those you had before Oh, hell no

  “It’s just absolutely ridiculous, right?”

“Are you still on about that?” George asked, his tone laced with practiced boredom as he laid on his back in front of the fire in the Gryffindor common room. He had somehow come into possession of a quaffle and was repeatedly tossing it in the air and catching it, occasionally passing it to Fred when the mood struck.

“Yes, I am still on about it! How anyone could read this garbage and believe it, I will never know.” Hermione threw the quill she’d been writing with onto the desk, ink blotting across her parchment, and picked up the Daily Prophet once again. An avid reader of the wizarding newspaper, Hermione never gave much thought as to whether the stories of journalist Rita Skeeter were true or not. However, as she stared at the words printed across the page for the hundredth time, she questioned whether the woman had ever written anything factual in her life. Harry had told her about the disastrous interview the night before – Rita Skeeter’s devious smile, the basic lack of attention, her casual yet inappropriate flirtations, and her Quick Note’s Quill scribbling away all the while. Therefore, it hadn’t surprised her when the article portrayed a weepy yet confidently disillusioned Harry Potter pouring his soul out and then boasting on his magical prowess. What did surprise her, though, were the last few sentences.

“…Harry Potter’s close friend, Collin Creevey, has informed us that the young Triwizard participant can regularly be found in the company of a Miss Hermione Granger – a pretty muggle born fourth year. While officially their relationship has not been confirmed, it’s hard to deny the tell-tale signs of young love,” Hermione read, her voice raising to a shout by the end. Folding the paper, she threw it aside once more, this time as far out of her reach as humanly possible. Whirling through the air, the heavy paper made contact with an unsuspecting first year walking by. Hermione winced and gave the boy an embarrassed apology before picking up her wand and cleaning the ink from her assignment. She looked at the contents of her notes thus far and huffed. The words blurred together, her anger resulting in an altogether apathetic state for anything that wasn’t the infuriating article. Turning her head, she glared at Collin Creevey from across the room as he sat in the corner with his brother and a few other younger Gryffindors. They chatted away, playing the perfect role of innocence.

“Hermione—” Harry gave her a pleading look “—could you please just let it go?” He placed a hand gently on her forearm. At that moment, two third year girls walking past, spotted the placement of his hand, and hurried past, whispering and giggling to each other. Harry removed his hand quickly, grimacing. Hermione sighed, taking a moment to think about how this affected not just herself but Harry as well. Whispers and pointing she could deal with but lies were intolerable. It was just so…immoral! However, she imagined all Harry wanted was for all of this to disappear, to forget about it, and to be able to go back to some form of normalcy. She leaned back in her chair. If she could do anything for him at that moment, it would be to do as he asked.

“Alright, I’ll let it go. But don’t think I won’t give this Skeeter woman a piece of my mind when I finally meet her.” She sat forward and began writing out her study guide for transfiguration again.

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” Harry said in amusement, before turning back to his own work.

Unlike George, Harry and Hermione sat at a table adjacent to the fire accompanied by Fred. Harry was working on an extra paper given to him by Professor Snape after his abysmal duel with Malfoy. Hermione was working on transfiguration, and Fred on his latest product. It was another sweet, similar to their Ton-Tongue Toffee, but ultimately very different. Earlier that night at dinner, Fred and George had ran into the Great Hall flushed with excitement. They pulled her away from the Gryffindor table and into the adjoining corridor, ignoring Hermione’s questions and feeble attempts to pull her wrist from Fred’s grasp. Once out of earshot from their curious peers, they began to bombard her with their latest and greatest idea – Canary Creams. Fred insisted that the idea would be hilarious, a sweet that when eaten, turned the person into a giant canary bird.

Silently, Fred slid his notebook on top of Hermione’s work and pointed to a list of possible wand movements and an incantation to charm the sweets. It really was a tricky thing when you thought about it. Sure, some sweets were already available that caused physical changes to their consumer, but none that she knew performed full form transfiguration. Pairing transfiguration, charms work, and potions was no easy feat. To successfully develop a Canary Cream, they had to produce a lasting charm that utilized transfiguration elements to result in a temporary transformation of the whole body from human to aviary. It was, to put it lightly, difficult.

George had helped early on with the charms aspect of the spell, but now they needed Hermione’s help with the transfiguration part – a subject, lucky for them, she was well versed in. Closely, she surveyed the work and found herself quite impressed. The incantation seemed to be correct and the wand movements as well, except there was just something about them that was…off. Mentally, she visualized the movements and when it finally came to the last movement, she realized the mistake. Dipping her quill into her ink, she crossed off the last tap and replaced it with a flick and then a tap, before sliding the notebook back to him. Fred shook his long ginger hair from his face and assessed the changes she made as Hermione returned to her own work. Looking down at her papers, she tried to find where she left off.

“What’s this for?” Fred whispered. Turning towards him, Hermione was caught off guard to find the boy so close, leaning towards her and pointing at her correction.

Blinking a few times, she answered, “You do want them to be human sized canaries, correct?”

Fred stared at her for a moment, and then back down at the paper before smiling. “Yeah, I suppose we do. I knew there was a reason we asked you to help.”

“If I remember correctly, I volunteered. Should I be regretting that?” Hermione teased.

“Don’t you dare Granger,” responded Fred with a wink. Heat pooled on Hermione’s face and she nervously grinned back, unsure of what to say. Fred spoke again, “Are you sure it will only be temporary?”

“What are you guys working on?” Harry asked. Hermione jumped, pulling back from Fred and the notebook they’d been piled over.

“N-nothing! I’m just helping Fred with his studies. He’s struggling in quite a few of his subjects, so he asked me to tutor him,” she lied. “Isn’t that right Fred?” She turned to him with a sweet smile.

Fred glared back at her, but ultimately cleared his throat and looked to Harry before speaking, “Yeah, I asked Granger to help me. But don’t worry Harry. It’s strictly professional. Wouldn’t want you to think I was trying to steal your girlfriend from you.” He ended his sentence with a cheeky grin. Hermione responded the only way she knew how – by kicking him in the shin under the table.

“Ow!” Fred reached under the table, and rubbing his leg. “Did you just kick me, Granger?” he asked, his long hair falling into his eyes.

“Yes, and you very well deserved it.”

Fred looked to Harry for support but only met his grinning face and a shrug of his shoulders. He then looked to his twin, still lounging on the floor but much more interested in the conversation.

“Don’t look at me, I think you always deserve a good kick in the shin,” said George, chucking the quaffle to his brother. Fred caught it easily.

“Some good friends you are,” Fred grumbled throwing the quaffle back to George before they all let out a few good-humored chuckles.

“I’d say they’re better friends to you than they are to me.” The voice took them by surprise. Looking to the portrait entrance, Hermione saw Ron, having just entered the common room to find the four enjoying themselves without him.

“Do you have a problem, mate?” Harry asked, his voice stony.

“I’m not your mate,” Ron responded, a touch on the dramatic side in Hermione’s opinion.

“Well if you’re not my mate then I guess you can just piss off. Yeah?” added Harry lightly, turning back to his work. Hermione looked between the two, feeling incredibly uncomfortable and unsure of what to do. Ron gave her a nasty glare before turning to his brothers.

“You two can’t possibly believe him, can you?”

“Yeah, we do,” Fred and George answered in unison. George sat up properly, tucking the quaffle under his arm.

“He may be the Boy Who Lived—” started George.

“—but he’s not nearly bright enough to put his name into the goblet,” Fred finished.

“Sorry mate!” the two called over to Harry who merely shrugged, finding no offense in the statement.

“What happened to family loyalty?” Ron asked his older brothers, a hurt expression on his face.

“I think there’s a ‘being a complete prat’ contingency to that concept, brother. Besides, Harry’s family too.” George stood and stretched before tossing the quaffle at Ron, who caught it unenthusiastically.

Ron turned to Hermione now. “Guess I know why you always take Harry’s side. Thought you two would at least have the decency to let me in on the secret. But I guess there’s a lot of things you don’t tell me.”

Hermione opened her mouth to argue, but before she could get a word out Ron continued, “Doesn’t matter though, everyone else agrees with me anyways.” With a final glare, he turned and headed towards the boys’ dormitories, ridding himself of the quaffle on the way.

The common room was silent after Ron’s departure. Hermione realized that everyone had stopped to listen in on the dramatic scene. She really wished they hadn’t. One look at Harry and she knew he was wishing the same thing. His shoulders were hitched all the way up to his ears and his face was unnecessarily close to his parchment. The quiet weighed on Hermione like a thick and heavy blanket. She returned to her work, but the more she stared at the pages of her book, the more uncomfortable she became. Every fiber of her being wanted to storm up those stairs and give Ronald a piece of her mind, but she was worried she didn’t have the strength. Then something Fred had said to her in the hospital wing rang clearly in her mind, giving her the strength, she needed: …there’s nothing for you to be afraid of. You’re more badass than I could ever be.

She rose, pushing back her chair. Harry, Fred, and George looked at her.

“If you’ll please excuse me,” she said politely, turning on her heel and heading towards the stairs that led up to the boys’ dormitories. She had only been in Harry and Ron’s room twice before, but she still knew the way. She climbed the spiral stairs in a fury, having no idea what she was about to say, but knowing she needed to say something. Her period of silence with Ronald Weasley had to end. Coming to the dormitory door, she pushed it open, not even bother to knock as anger and determination fueled her actions.

“Bloody hell Hermione!” Ron exclaimed, covering his bare chest. He was standing in the middle of the room clad only in his pants, trousers and shirt strewn aside in a pile, as he uncomfortably shifted. His face and chest were red as a cherry tomato, flushed in embarrassment, but he glared at her all the same. Hermione coughed, caught off guard by his state of undress. She had never seen Ron without his shirt, let alone his trousers. Trying not to focus on the freckles that spattered his chest, the flush that now covered her face, or the strange tug in the pit of her stomach, she pushed past the awkwardness of the situation and continued on with what she originally intended to do. Looking to her left she noticed Neville was also present in the room, confused and uncomfortable. She smiled sweetly at him.

“Neville, would you please excuse Ronald and I for a few minutes?”

The pudgy blonde boy nodded quickly and jumped from his bed, fleeing the room in a full run.

“Hermione, what are you doing in my room?!” Ron asked in a yell.

Hermione took a deep breath. “I’ve come to make peace. To have a heart-to-heart as they say…” Casually but with purpose she strolled further into the room, past Ron, to sit on the edge of his bed.

“Now? While I’m sodding naked?”

Hermione rolled her eyes, starting to feel normalcy return at Ron’s thickness. “Well put some clothes on if it’s so important to you, but yes, now.”

Ron stared at her, frozen where he stood. When he failed to move, she raised her eyebrows and tilted her head insistently, urging him to hurry up. Ron scurried to his trunk and pulled on a pair of striped bottoms and a vibrant orange Chudley Cannon’s shirt, before plodding over to sit next to her on the bed. He pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around his legs, closing himself off to her and the world around him.

“What?” Ron stubbornly asked, avoiding her gaze.

“I think I deserve an apology from you,” said Hermione bluntly.

Ron looked up at her in surprise. “I need to apologize to you?!”

“Yes. You do—” Hermione stayed strong, squaring her shoulders “—Ronald, we have been friends for nearly four years. More importantly you and Harry have been best friends for just as long. Have we once ever lied to you? Deceived you? Betrayed you? Not supported you?”

Ron didn’t answer. Instead he looked down, resting his forehead against his knees.

“No, we haven’t—" she went on “—Now I don’t know what’s exactly been said or not said between you and Harry, and it’s not really my business. All I know is that when you accuse me of not being a good friend to you, it hurts. I’ve done my best to try to support you and Harry as I see fit. And that support involves believing and trusting you both when you tell me something. So, when Harry tells me he didn’t put his name in the goblet…I believe him. Because he’s my friend and until he does something to make me not trust him, I will continue to trust him. I’m not ‘siding’ with him to spite you and honestly this whole story you’ve concocted, that we’re conspiring against you, makes you sound like an absolute loon.” Hermione finished her speech and tucked her own legs up to her chest, hoping Ronald would respond to what she said with reason. When he didn’t automatically bite her head off or demand she leave his room, she let out a deep breath of relief.

She watched as Ron’s mouth scrunched up in conflict, his long hair covering his eyes and most of his emotion, until finally, he spoke, “I know you two aren’t plotting against me.”

Hermione looked at him in confusion.

“Well I mean, I guess at first I thought you were, but now not really. It’s just not fair. No one likes to be second, especially to Harry Potter. Harry Potter’s stupid friend…”

Hermione’s heart broke. She unwrapped herself and scooted sideways, pulling Ronald into a tight hug. He stiffened at the contact for a moment and then relaxed. They had never been physically close, the way she and Harry were, but Hermione felt this situation called for it.

“You’re not Harry Potter’s stupid friend, Ronald. You may not see it, but you’re worth a lot more than you realize. Are you a bit lazy when it comes to schoolwork? Sure—” they chuckled at her comment “—but you are not stupid.”

She pulled back, looking into Ron’s eyes for the first time in weeks. “You know, I think if he could, Harry would switch places with you in a second. Fame isn’t always a good thing.”

Ron nodded and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his side. Hermione rested her head on his shoulder and felt the heavy weight of Ron’s head atop hers.

“I’m sorry Hermione,” he mumbled sincerely, slightly begrudgingly, but sincerely, nonetheless. Hermione smiled. Despite his bullheaded nature and obnoxious tendencies, Ron really did have a big heart. She was warmly reminded for a brief moment why, despite all his character flaws, she possessed an affection for him.

“So, how are you going to make things up with Harry?” She perked up, breaking the nice serenity of their resolution with their next challenge. Ron sighed in frustration.

“I don’t know,” Ron said, dropping his arm off her and rubbing his face.

Hermione hopped off the bed. “Well, do it on your own time, I suppose, but try not to take too long. Harry’s going to need the both of us this year.”

Ron stood as well and walked her to the door, nodding in agreement. Hermione pulled the door open and turned, looking over Ron’s kind face. A moment of impulse and Lavender’s nagging words to make a lasting impression took over and before she knew it, she was lifting onto her tip toes and placing a quick peck on Ron’s cheek. She watched as Ron brought a hand up to where her lips had touched, his cheeks turning a shade of pink under his fingertips. Throats cleared from behind her and Hermione turned, finding the twins standing in the stairwell, arms crossed and smirking. They had obviously been snooping.

“Goodnight Ronald,” said Hermione quickly, closing the door in his face and turning towards the twins in annoyance.

“Is this the young love Skeeter was talking about then?” asked George amusedly.

Hermione rolled her eyes, answering in irritation, “Get an earful then?”

“Nah, couldn’t really hear through the door,” George admitted in disappointment.

“Too thick,” added Fred.

“You know, we really should invent something for that,” mused George, looking to his brother.

“I’ll start whipping up the schematics tonight,” bit Hermione sarcastically as she pushed past them and headed down the stairs. She found Harry right where she left him and sat back down in her seat. Neither said anything as she picked up her quill and got back to work. They sat there for quite some time until Harry finally broke the silence. She wasn’t sure how late it was, but the fire was beginning to burn low and they were the only two left in the common room.

“I got a letter from Padfoot last week,” he informed her. Hermione perked up at the news, hoping that something good would come from Harry’s godfather.

“What did he say?” she asked, setting down her quill and rearranging her notes.

“Not much—” Harry ran a hand through his unruly hair “—he wants to talk on the twenty-second. Guess he doesn’t trust sending letters anymore.” 

Sirius Black, also affectionately known as Padfoot, had great reason to be untrusting of the mail as he was currently still on the run from the Ministry of Magic. Accused of a crime he did not commit, it was barely a year ago he used his Animagus form to break out of Azkaban, the wizarding prison. Then through a series of incredibly complicated and confusing events (some of which included time travel), she and Harry helped him make his overall escape on the back of a hippogriff.

“Talk? How are you going to talk?” Hermione asked, placing her things into her book bag. Surely Sirius wasn’t planning on coming onto the school grounds. With ministry officials scurrying around for the tournament, Hogwarts was a risky place to be. The whole country of England wasn’t a safe place for him really.

“I don’t know. He just said to be in the common room at one in the morning,” admitted Harry as he collected his things as well. Hermione frowned.

“Well I just hope he doesn’t plan on putting himself in danger of getting caught or seen,” she said, looking purposefully at her best friend.

“I just hope he has some advice on how to not die this year in the tournament,” said Harry. Hermione bit her lip and something tugged sharply in her chest. She reached across the table and placed a hand atop Harry’s.

“Harry James Potter, you are not going to die. Not if I have anything to say about it,” Hermione proclaimed the fact with so much conviction, she surprised even herself. Harry looked at her though his round glasses, his green eyes scanning her face. For what? Sincerity? Truth? Answers? Hermione did not know, but what she did know was that she wasn’t going to let Harry down. Her breakthrough with Ronald was only the first step. He placed his other hand over hers and gave her a tight smile. Hermione blinked rapidly, fighting the tears that threatened to spill down her face. After a moment they stood and left the common room to their respective dormitories. Not another word was needed.

    Fred sat at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall eating his lunch. He thought there must have been some greater power looking out for him today because they were serving his favorite – shepherd’s pie. The day had been a rough one so far and the little comfort that came from his favorite food was enough to take the edge off. That morning, after another futile attempt to catch a visiting Ludo Bagman, he and George had gone over their inventory and funds. Needless to say, it was depressing. Turns out they needed the money Ludo owed them more than they thought. They were for all intents and purposes, broke. The advertisement they sent out for had profited quite well, but with their mother’s raid before the start of term, their supply was limited and soon they would no longer be able to supply products to keep up with demand. He and George wagered they could make a larger profit off of new and exciting products, but they really only had a few sickles and knuts for pocket money. The whole situation left them with one option.

“Harry—" Fred spoke, catching the attention of the dark-haired fourth year “—mind being a dear and letting Georgie and me borrow Hedwig?” He watched as Harry swallowed his sip of pumpkin juice and wipe his mouth with the back of his sleeve.

“Uh, sure. What for?”

“That my dear boy—” smirked George “—is classified.”

“Really on a need to know basis,” Fred added, sniffing importantly.

“You know, I think I’d rather not know actually. But sure, she’s up in the owlery. Just make sure you bring her a treat, or she’ll be put out for a while and I’ll have to pay the price,” Harry informed them before stuffing a forkful of mashed potatoes in his mouth. It was at that moment Fred spotted a flushed and chipper Hermione entering the Great Hall. Her hair was especially full and bouncy as she skipped towards them, her cheeks and nose a soft pink hue. Fred imagined she would be in a better mood today after what he could only imagine was a reconciliation between her and Ron last night.

“Good afternoon,” she greeted the lot of them cheerfully, setting her bag down and sitting next to Harry.

“What’s got you all pink? Just come from a hot snogging session?” George asked cheekily. Hermione’s face transitioned from its soft pink to a brilliant red. Lifting her nose up in indignation, she trained a disapproving look on George.

“If you must know, I’ve just come from Hagrid’s—” she loaded the plate in front of her with shepherd’s pie and vegetables “—he had me over for tea, and so naturally I’m starving.”

Harry snorted, shooting pumpkin juice across the table. Fred cried in despair as the last of his lunch became covered in regurgitated liquid.

“Gross mate,” said George, scrunching up his face as he wiped his wet cheek with his robes.

“Sorry,” coughed Harry sheepishly.

“Did you see the new notice on the bulletin board this morning?” asked Hermione. They all shook their heads. She rolled her eyes, obviously annoyed they didn’t keep rigorously up to date with the daily affairs of the school like she did. Fred watched hypnotically as Hermione tucked her hair behind her ear and took a bite of her food. He concentrated on the odd way her nose scrunched ever so slight when she chewed, almost like she was intrigued by the taste alone. Hermione had a very small nose. Not in a disproportionate way, but in a very pleasing way, he decided. Thin across the bridge, it’s up-turned end pointed ever so delicately into the air. It was also spattered with freckles, much like his own but not quite as obvious. From far away you’d never see them, but as you got closer, you’d notice the light patterns of golden brown that adorned the bridge spreading under her eyes.

“Earth to Freddie!” George bellowed in Fred’s ear.

Fred jumped, covering his assaulted ear drum. “What?!”

“I was saying they just put out the announcement that next weekend is a Hogsmeade weekend. I thought maybe we could all go!” Hermione proposed for the second time.

“Or do you prefer to sit and stare at Hermione all day like a twat?” George asked.

Fred frowned at his brother. “I wasn’t staring. I was simply lamenting over the fact that I have to buy Granger a week’s supply of sugar quills.” Luckily, they were a very cheap sweet, thought Fred.

Hermione smiled sweetly, but Fred caught the devilish glint in her eye he was becoming very familiar with.

“I don’t know Hermione—” said Harry “—you might have to go without me.”

“Why?” she asked, her face falling. Fred watched Harry lean in and whisper something to Hermione. She pulled back and nodded, her face a mask of concern and understanding. Leaning back in, it was her turn to whisper something to him – information that he and George were not privy to. Her small hand reached up from under the table and landed on Harry’s upper arm as they pulled back smiling. Obviously, they had come to some kind of agreement that both were happy with. Fred felt an odd sensation wash over him as he watched the two engage in their private conversation. It was the same feeling he got in the hospital wing with Angelina and again when he watched Hermione kiss his little brother on the cheek.

If he didn’t know any better, watching this interaction, he might have believed Rita Skeeter’s accusation that her and Harry were entangled. He shook his head, clearing his mind of the strange route his thoughts had taken. Glancing down the table his little sister, Ginny, was sat next to Neville Longbottom and a few of her friends, laughing and gossiping as they ate. Just past them sat a group of first years looking over a copy of Seeker Weekly, and then further down were Lee, Alicia, Katie, and Angelina. The first three seemed to be engaged in an excited conversation. Lee was lecturing Katie on something with a tired look on his face while Katie shook her head and brought a hand up to her brow. Alicia watched the two, grinning as she stifled a laugh. But the last, Angelina, was looking at him. As their eyes connected, he gave a small friendly smile. However, he was not greeted with a smile in return like he expected. Instead she stood abruptly from the table and headed towards the exit to the Great Hall.

 Fred stood too. “I’ll catch you later Georgie. Gotta’ go take care of something.”

He didn’t wait for a response as he raced out of the Great Hall to catch up with Angelina. He found her not too far down the corridor.

“Angelina! Hey, wait up!” called Fred, jogging towards her. Angelina stopped and turned, waiting for him to close the distance between them. From her crossed arms and scowl, Fred could tell she was upset. “What’s the matter? What’s wrong?” he asked, placing a hand on her cheek.

She brushed him off. “Nothing,” responded Angelina, pushing her dark braids over one shoulder, and looking away from him. However, Fred could tell from the tone in her voice that there was in fact, something wrong.

“Come on. Don’t lie to me Angie. You can tell me. What’s wrong?” implored Fred as he reached out his hand again and pulled her face towards his, coaxing her to look at him.

“Oh, now you’re here for me? How nice of you to actually pay me the time of day,” bit the athletic chaser. Her reaction struck Fred dumb. Is she mad at me? he wondered in utter bewilderment.

“What have I done?!” he asked defensively. Just then a group of Hufflepuffs rounded the corner, casting sideways glances at the quarreling couple. Angelina grasped Fred’s wrist, pulling him from out of the middle of the corridor and tucking them into a small alcove.

“We haven’t spoken in weeks! You’re always too busy hanging out with Granger and Potter to spend time with any of your friends,” accused Angelina, chewing on the inside of her cheek, and shifting her weight from foot to foot. A pang of guilt rushed through Fred. He ran a hand through his hair and let out a puff of breath. Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t really hung out with any of his usual friends in a while. Lee, he saw nearly every day as they shared a room, but he couldn’t remember the last time he spoke to any of them for more than a few minutes. He looked back at the girl in front of him to begin his apology but before he could, Angelina continued.

“Look, I’m going to ask you something and I want you to just answer me honestly. I won’t freak out or anything, just be honest—” Angelina took a deep breath “—do you maybe have a crush…or something on someone?”

“What?” asked Fred.

“You know? Like on Granger or…whatever?”

“Her—Granger, she’s just a friend. She’s been having a bit of a hard go of it lately, you know, with Ron and Harry off their rockers. George and I sort of took it as our responsibility to look after her. But you know, as friends. She’s a cool girl and I like her alright, but just as a friend. Only a friend. That’s it,” said Fred, feeling dizzy at just how many times he used the word ‘friend’. It was as he repeated the word, however, that he wondered just how true it was. He hadn’t ever really thought of Granger in that way. Perhaps that fact alone meant they were just friends. Angelina seemed unconvinced.

“As for not spending time with you—” Fred went on “—I’m sorry. We haven’t actually been spending all our time with Granger. Mostly George and I have been working on our joke shop stuff. We’ve hit a couple of roadblocks you see.” He let out a frustrated sigh as he thought about the lack of money and dwindling supplies.

Angelina’s expression softened. “I guess I’m just used to having you all to myself. It’s been hard to adjust what with quidditch being canceled and everything…” said Angelina. Fred smiled knowing that was probably the closest he’d ever get to hearing Angelina admit she was wrong.

“You know, Hogsmeade weekend is coming up. How about you and I spend it together?”

“Really?”

“Yeah, it’ll be fun.”

“Okay,” Angelina smiled sweetly.

“Are we good then?” asked Fred. He watched as Angelina’s smile turned into a playful smirk.

“Yeah, we’re good. But we have a lot of catching up to do.” With that statement she grabbed his wrist again and started pulling him down the corridor.

“Where are we going?” Fred asked dumbly.

“To catch up. I was thinking it’s been a while since we paid a visit to our secret passageway.”

“Oh—” said Fred and then realization struck “—Oooooohh! Oh, you saucy minx.” And with that his pace quickened till the two of them were practically running towards poor Gregory the Smarmy.

Chapter 10 >>

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Sloth in Soho-Ch.2

Aziraphael stayed frozen in the porch for what seemed like an eternity after the door swung shut behind him, fighting off the sense of dread that came when something so perfectly cliche happened in real life. Well then. That was...something.

He cleared his throat and pulled at his tie on impulse, straightening it then un-straightening it in the same fiddly movement. “Crowley?” He called, willing his voice to not come out as a hissing, soft shout and, instead, something that would carry more. He wasn’t afraid. He was NOT afraid. There was nothing to be afraid of. In fact, if not for the hurricane of second hand emotions buffeting him, he would say that nothing was wrong. Crowley had made quick, efficient work of his move, it seemed. There was a new paint, new hardwood, new everything smell hanging heavily in the air along side a tingle of infernal miracling. A whole renovation done in twenty-four hours. Crowley’s rather perfectionist, efficient nature when it came to his living space was on full display. He moved from the porch, mindful to toe off his shoes lest the demon bark at him for tracking in dirt, and into the home. He had never been inside when the original owners resided here. He had only knew them threw casual interactions and his own angelic prowess. He imagined it would be dated in the same way his own flat was. Perhaps it had been yesterday. The space was currently quite trendy, like he had stepped into the world’s coziest discotheque. The floors were so spotless he could see his reflection in the dark wood and the furniture occupying the main living area was made with rich, jewel toned velvets that looked inviting and sleek at the same time. His fingers twitched with an urge to run his hands over the fabric and test whether they were as luxurious as they appeared to be.  The light fixtures, though off, seemed to be of the ultra-modern, chrome, dimmable sort. Perhaps they were ‘smart lights’ or whatever they were called. Crowley had seemed quite keen on the ‘smart house’ concept when they were talking about his plans. Magic without magic, he had called it, grinning and tipsy, sprawled across a stack of Aziraphael’s uninventoried books. (Fetching, Aziraphael had thought in that moment. Then, just as soon as the thought had entered his rather inebriated headspace, he banished it. Crowley was always fetching. He excelled at being fetching and the man knew it. He didn’t need him to tell him that. So he didn’t.) A cursory glance around the first floor revealed more of Crowley’s surprisingly tasteful decor choices but nothing of the man himself. Second floor it was, then. Ascending the stairs proved to be more of an endeavor than the angel could have ever expected. Crowley was definitely up there if the sudden wall of emotion that struck him was anything to go by. His stomach twisted so violently that, if he had been human, he surely would have not only vomited but passed out as well. As it were, though, it only set him springing upwards, taking the steps two at a time. Wrong, wrong, wrong. Something was wrong. His other wordly blood was boiling in his veins. The last time he had felt this kind of reaction was when Satan burst through the ground and fixed them all in his gaze. Some foul plan was afoot and Crowley was at the center. He hoped he was not the cause. No. Crowley was good at his core. He would never intentionally hurt himself or others. He hoped.

He found the bed room on the first try, throwing the door open dramatically like some kind of pulp hero. For a moment he felt let down, his shoulders sagging with just as much drama. Crowley was sleeping so soundly that he didn’t even stir when the door hit the wall, cracking the plaster. There was no obvious threat within sight.  Aziraphael was berating himself for his overreaction and preparing to fix the damage-then it hit him again. That barrage of rapid fire, overly intense feelings. Crowley was having a nightmare. Fascinating! He knew the demon enjoyed his ‘beauty sleep’ but he had never mentioned anything about dreaming. Perhaps it was something that only demons could do? Or...only Crowley? Perhaps any otherworldly being could do it but they never did because sleep was not truly needed. Heaven knows it had never been something he indulged- Another wave brought his thoughts up short and redirected his attention back to his sleeping companion. Crowley’s smooth brow and slack jaw held no sign of the distress he was experiencing. If Aziraphael wasn’t tuning into the evidence first hand he would have believed nothing to be wrong. It couldn’t be allowed to continue, though. The demon may wake up cross with him but that was better than the hurt he was enduring. Aziraphael would weather his sour mood and offer to take him to brunch when his fit wore down. “Crowley, dear,” he called gently, approaching his bedside and daring to place a hand on a slender shoulder. “It’s time to wake up.” Nothing. Not even a flinch. This was not the first time Aziraphael had caught the demon napping and he knew for a fact that he was easy to rouse. Typically he’d make production of stretching and blinkingly blearily up at him with a peculiar expression that the angel was never quite able to decipher before asking what day it was and looking put off that he’d been woken up early. When he was up, he was up, though. There was a feeling like ice water in the lungs building in Aziraphaels chest. Before he could even reconsider he was kneeling on the bed, nearly straddling the sleeping man, and shaking him. “Crowley! For Heaven's sake, Crowley!” His voice was pitched with a budding panic. Crowley was limp in his hands, a rag doll to be tossed about. If it weren’t for the periodic darting beneath his eyelids and the warmth he radiated he would have thought him dead. The thought sent a fresh jolt of alarm coursing through his body. It was irrational, of course! Nothing short of a bucket of holy water could kill his friend and they had seen to it that no one would give that a try anytime soon. Besides, he was right here. Everything was fine. Well, physically it was. What was he to do? There was most certainly something foul afoot but what it was he simply didn’t know. It was unlikely he’d receive any aid if it was requested. Heaven still sent him their missives and he did his duty in the Almighties name but his fellow angels had taken to treating him like an aberration since the HellFire incident went awry for them. He had a good laugh when Crowley recounted it all to him but now...well, it certainly made it difficult to ask for assistance. Not that they would come. What was he going to say? ‘Hello Gabrielle! Sorry for that end of the world business but I could really use a hand with my dear Crowley! You remember him right? Handsome chap with the glasses? Demon?’ As Crowley had once said, that would likely go over like a lead balloon. He doubted that he’d get any help from Crowley’s side for the same reasons. Not that he really wanted to ask. Certainly if any demon caught wind of his dear friends current state they would quite literally seize the opportunity with both hands and throttle him! Not that he’d let them. No. He’d never let them. He’d smite the lot if they even tried, paperwork be damned! That left only himself. “Our Side.” He’d have to muddle his way through this. He’d have to reach in without Crowleys explicit permission and suss it all out. It was the best course of action. Yet it felt so very wrong. Switching bodies had been done consentingly and they had both agreed back then that they wouldn’t invade each other’s private thoughts through that connection. It certainly wouldn’t be welcome now that they were themselves again. Tentatively he reached out his aura, opening himself up to Crowley, testing the waters. He had been near sickened on the stairs by the waves emotion he felt and he had been mostly closed off then. Now, with the doors opened a crack, he could feel more, see more. The way Crowley’s aura flared as brightly as the sun only to dim as if snuffed out the in the next second. A terrible seesaw of conflicting emotions that was distressing for the angel to interact with. He threw himself wide open to it. He’d not cower in the face of this. Crowley had done stupid, dangerous things over the millenia for Aziraphaels sake. How could he hesitate any longer when faced with the evidence of his dearest friends agony? How could he even call himself his dearest friend if he did not do that for him? It was on that soul steeling thought that Aziraphael let himself be fully swept up by the demon and pulled into him. Invasion or privacy or no, he’d figure this out and face Crowleys anger later. He prayed he’d forgive him.

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

Strangely enough, Aziraphael’s sense of smell returned to him before his sight or hearing. He could smell fresh stardust and void, the scents of brand new universe. It stirred something in his heart he hadn’t felt since he left Heaven to guard Eden. Could it be…?

Yes! His hearing and sight came back together and he was blessed with celestial harmonies being sung from a distance and the great, velvety black expanse of the universe. This wasn’t Heaven. This was the place that existed above and below and to the sides of all existence, where stars were hung and galaxies born. Except there was very little of either, at the moment. Every now and then a light would flicker on, light years away or color would bloom. This was the Beginning. The time before Earth. The time before Heaven was called such. Before the Rebellion.  Before Angels had names. This was the time when they all had one goal and one love: Please the Almighty, their Creator, and follow Her instructions to make all this void into something beautiful.

He hadn’t been one those to decorate the cosmos. It was something he watched from afar with delight as he basked in Her words and love. Actually, now that he allowed himself to think about it, he hadn’t really had a job  before he was given his sword and told to fight in the Rebellion. Giving himself a shake of the head, he cleared his thoughts of nostalgia. This wasn’t real. This was a dream. A sense of astoundment overcame him as he remembered that. This was a dream. Crowley’s dream. There he was. Red hair that fell in perfect, loose ringlets past his shoulder blades, standard issue white, linen robes wrapped about his slender frame, and brilliant white wings tucked tightly to his back as he floated aimlessly in the rich darkness of the void, a finger pressed to his lips and his brows knit in unexplained consternation. Aziraphael’s heart give a rather alarming lurch in chest. A part of him always wondered about Crowley before the Fall. It was a period of time that the demon refused to speak about. Well, except for that one time when they were polishing off their second bottle of red wine at the shop and Crowley began flipping through books of astronomy. “Oi! That’s one of mine!” He had declared in drunken delight upon seeing a grainy photo of a nebula. He had clammed up when pressed and never spoke of it again leaving Aziraphael desperately curious. “Crowley!” He called and flew forward. Oh! He hadn’t even realized his wings were out. He didn’t have time to question it as he was finding it difficult to make any kind of head way. There was a pressure that made it nigh impossible to move his wings, like he was flying through a thick custard. His progress was painfully slow and inexplicably exhausting. “I’m here! Just...wait!” He didn’t know what he was telling him to wait for. Indeed, there seemed to be nothing happening to cause the former angel any kind of distress.

Crowley continued to look out into the void, seemingly not hearing him. At times tilting his head to the left or right as if to get a better angle on the blackness and tapping his finger to his pursed lips in thought. Oh how Aziraphael wished he could see the man’s eyes! Not only would they satiate his own curiosity as to what God had bestowed on him at the Beginning but they would also tell a story. Crowley tended to be rather expressive, sans sunglasses, something he was sure the man knew. Crowley spread his wings and arms slowly, as if stretching out some kink in his celestial body. Then he was in motion, waving his hands gracefully like the conductor of a great symphony, summoning saturated scarlets, brilliant blues, vivid violets, and just a touch of turquoise. He swirled and mixed, swayed and bowed, utterly lost  in his work. Aziraphael could only stare, mouth agape, as a nebula he had never known to exist took shape.

Stunning. Absolutely stunning. He had an appreciation and love for all creation but, in that moment, he loved this more than anything else. It reeked of a passion that was denied most angels, a wildness that he thought unknown back then. Just as quickly as it started it was done and Crowley was back to sitting in the void, studying his handiwork. No matter the time period, Aziraphael knew when his friend was dissatisfied. Why he should be he had no idea. This was a marvellous creation! He never took Crowley for a painter but now he wondered if he had ever picked it up in the past six thousand years. It would probably be a good outlet for him. He’d have to suggest it when everything was better. “It’s beautiful, Crowley,” he tried, hoping his voice carried over the distance between them. He had never meant anything more in his life. Crowley didn’t react. He merely kept looking. Aziraphael was growing irritated. What was he to do if he couldn’t make Crowley hear him? Why was this memory causing him such distress and what did it have to do with his continued slumber? The nebula was wiped from existence with a sudden violence that sent the angel reeling. What in heaven’s name-?!

Crowleys wings were fluffed up, his hand extended, teeth bared. “That’s not the best I can do,” he hissed to himself, angrily. “Amateur. Not worthy of notice. I shall never be seen with a production like that.” There was a fire in his primary feathers, a blackening at the very quills. Crowley showed no sign of noticing but Azirphael could feel the anger reverberating in the space around them. The frustration was palpable, a toxic kind of pride shattering the serenity of the void, quite literally splintering it. The heavenly chorus is the distance was warping like one was attempting to play a warped vinyl record. There was a hint of brimstone in the air. A new nebula, more gaudy and brilliant than the last, was created only to be destroyed. Again and again. A Sisyphean task of Crowley’s own creation that Aziraphael was helpless to-

No. To say he was helpless was akin to despair. If he despaired there would be no one left to help Crowley. He needed to break this down, part by part, determine the core issue, and proceed in some way. This was...what? Crowley didn’t feel like he was doing well enough. No. Simpler. Crowley wanted to be noticed? Simpler again. Crowley was...Crowley was…. Prideful. He wanted to be prideful and be noticed for his efforts. He wanted this nebula to be the best version of itself so everyone would look at it and say ‘Crowley made that!’ Yet he couldn’t find peace. It wasn’t good enough. The nature of this unending night was that it would never be good enough for the Almighty or himself. Aziraphale found in himself a new strength and pushed forward towards his increasing frantic friend, wings straining with the effort and hand outstretched. Just a little further. Just-just a little--! His fingers wrapped firmly about the man’s thin wrist, bringing his frenzied movements to a sudden halt. For the first time since he entered this space Crowley was aware of him. Crowley was looking at him with eyes that simply were not there. Oh goodness. Oh oh oh! It was all the angel could do not to recoil in horror. Instead he smiled his gentlest, most reassuring smile, unsure if it could even be seen. “My dear, what a beautiful thing you’ve made. Truly, I’ve never seen anything quite so stunning,” he soothed, stroking the demons ego and meaning every syllable. It felt strange to compliment him like this. He was normally trying to encourage humility but...Crowley had been prideful since the beginning, apparently. Maybe, just maybe, validation would act as a balm to his soul. Crowley gaped for a moment. “...Angel…?” He began, confusion etching lines across his face. “It...it’s just like the other ones….” “Not so!” Aziraphael vehemently reassured, using his contact with the demon to lever himself closer, bringing his body near flush to Crowley’s own. He tried to wrap him up in a feeling of well being. “You’ve done quite well.” Validation truly was medicine to the former angel. Even this simple acknowledgment snuffed the fire in his wings. He looked away, colour staining his cheeks. “It’s...not perfect yet.” “It will never be!” Aziraphael declared cheerily. “Isn’t that better though? Nothing in creation is perfect. Nothing is as we expect it to be. This is beautiful because you made it, my dear. I should very much like it if you left it as is so I might always enjoy it.” These words had a profoundly humbling effect of Crowley. Aziraphael couldn’t guess at the thoughts that were running through his head but a sensation of second hand satisfaction and...and something else coursed through him.

Crowley was smiling a distinctly Crowley smile, slitted yellow eyes focused on him. Actually, Crowley looked like Crowley as he had always known him, black wings and all. Aziraphaels tender heart flipped. This kind of open expression was rare and, therefore, precious. “Suppose I can’t deny you it, then,” Crowley intoned with a smirk. It seemed he was going to say more but at that very moment it all went pear shaped. The universe inverted, fissures spreading in the dark. There was a very real physical push against his very being that sent him tumbling, arse over tea kettle, back and back and back through space- -and off the side Crowley’s bed where he was laid. Still sound asleep.

[wileysrosenthal]

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[irvingfield]

needy

(Resident Evil - Chris X Irving)

Irving woke up in a bolt, soaked with sweat, and clasping at the eggshell colored sheets. His breathing was rough and uneven, his mind racing. Another bad dream.

His sudden movement must of woken up Chris, who was sleeping beside him, causing him to stir and gently lift his head up from the pillow.

“Ricardo , baby what’s wrong?” He asked in a soft voice, “Was it another bad dream?”

Irving slightly nodded his head. “Y-yeah,” he responded back, “I-I had another nightmare. About the thing.”

“Oh, not the thing again,” Chris said.

The “thing” wasn’t really talked too much about between the two of them except during moments like this.

They both experienced it. They both were involved. It was in Africa, during their last mission. Chris and his partner Sheva were supposed to catch Irving, gather information from him about the uroburos project, and stop him from selling Tricell’s products. Their meetup eventually took place on the boat. HIS boat. They aimed guns at him and he panicked. He just knew that if they got more info from him then his ass would’ve been punished by both Wesker and Jill. They’ve done so many things to him. They’ve hit him, throttled him, threw him, and berated him. And it was all because he wasn’t good enough. He wasn’t good enough to get away. He wasn’t good enough to trick both Sheva and Chris into getting the wrong info and fucking up their mission. He wasn’t good enough to keep his job. He was nothing but a dirty rat to them and he was sick of it. He had no other choice but to try and inject himself with the virus to get away from it all.

He remembers what it felt like still. It’s been almost 3 years, yet he can still feel the almost unendurable pain he had inflicted upon himself. The cold needle going in his throat, the searing burn from the smallest amount of the virus going into his system. The shock from his hand when the bullet hit him, causing him to rear back and rip the needle out of his neck. Chris had stopped him. He has stopped him from mutilating himself into something monstrous. He still remembers what Chris had said to him when he was on the ground, clutching at his neck with his shot hand, feeling something go in him.

“Why did you stop me? Why didn’t you let me do this?” He commanded to Chris, rolling over in pain.

“I’ve seen what this thing has done to people, it’s hideous. I wouldn’t want it to happen to you. You’re a vital piece to this mission and I want-we need  you alive.”

As soon as Sheva called Chris over, Irving passed out.

That was when the business man realized he was in love.

He doesn’t remember much after that. He remembers waking up in some sort of crummy hospital and opening his eyes to a tall, black man standing beside his bed with his arms crossed.

“You’re lucky you’re even alive Mr. Irving,” he spoke to him in a thick accent, “You injected such a small amount in you that it wouldn’t have done much. You should be thanking Chris by giving information about your so called “project” that you and Wesker have and quitting this job.”

And so he did. He didn’t give all of the information he knew of course, but enough to get them on the right track. And it wasn’t like he never considered abandoning Tricell before, he was rich enough. He could abandon everything and live in hiding for the rest of his days.

Chris came back to see him. He came back without Sheva and asked for the man, Josh, to leave the room for a quick minute so they could talk.

At first they just sat in silence, neither daring to speak. Chris was the one who spoke first.

“You’re welcome by the way,” he said, “I guess I never really had the chance to say it since we were busy taking Wesker down after you gave us what we needed.”

“You’re welcome for that too. I guess.” Irving responded back.

“You know they want to arrest you. Put you in some maximum security prison where they watch you piss and shit and stuff. They want both you and Excella in there.”

“Well what about Wesker?” He asked the taller man. “Where do they want him?”

“Oh, he’s not going anywhere. We killed that son of a bitch. A rocket launcher right to the face.” He giggled quite a bit to himself. “He won’t be trying to destroy the world anymore from now on.”

“Oh.” Irving said, looking down at the slightly dirty bedsheets. He wasn’t really sad per say, fucker had it coming. It was just weird. His employer was dead and gone. What the hell was he supposed to do now?

“I don’t want you in there you know.” Chris replied to him. “I’ve seen your business work. I want both you and Excella to join us. You both could prove useful, but nobody else believes me.“

Irving stared at him in disbelief. Him? Join the BSAA? Laughable! “You-you really want us to join? After everything we tried to do? This is absurd ... and I might want in.”

Chris gleamed back at him. “I’m so glad! But you have to work hard ok? You both have to prove that you guys are worthy of something like this! Everyone still doesn’t trust you enough. You need to prove your skill to them.”

And with that, he joined.

During training, Chris and Irving would meet each other a lot. At first it was just glances and passing hellos, then plans to get coffee and to chat together, and finally, an actual date.

And they’ve been together ever since.

Irving’s thoughts were interrupted by a hand on his shoulder. He turned his head towards Chris and gave his best effort to smile.

“Ric, you’re crying.”

Irving tried his best to wipe away his tears. “Am I really? Wow I-I didn’t even notice-” he tried to laugh off but was interrupted by Chris.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked tenderly.

“It-it was pretty much the same thing that always happens, you know? I-I was on the boat and you were there, and I, uh, I-“

“Irv, you’re shaking! I’ve never seen you shake this badly before ... was this nightmare really bad?”

Irving felt the waterworks turn on. In seconds, he was a sobbing and snotty mess. His shoulders were bent and his head was held in his hands.

Chris snuggled up beside him, whispering words of comfort. “Do you want to take your meds?” He asked. “They usually help both of us feel better, and I think you forgot to take them again.”

Irving nodded his head and wiped his tears on their bedsheet. “Mhm. Thank you Chris.” He returned feebly.

“Ok babe, I’ll get you a glass of water too. Stay put.” The boxer-clad man got up and walked towards their kitchen, in search of some water and pills. Irving sat in bed stationary, glancing over at the alarm clock next to his side ( he was the more punctual one ) of the bed. It was 3:13 a.m. Thankfully they had a day off today and were able to sleep in.

Irving spun his head towards their bedroom door and saw Chris’s body in the doorway, cupping two Zolofts and holding a glass of water.

“Here you go babe. I almost tripped while getting these.” He said, trying to lighten the mood while handing the pills and water to the skinny man in bed.

“You’re so clumsy sometimes,” Irving replied back, taking the offering of pills. After swallowing and taking some small sips from the glass he thanked Chris. “Thank you for taking care of me. I’m sorry I wake you up so much.”

“It’s no big deal, Irv. I’m doing the bare minimum here. And besides, it’s not like I’ve never woken YOU up from my nightmares before.” He smiled at him and held his hand, “We’ve been through a lot together, I know we can get through this.”

Irving squeezed Chris’s hand and smiled warmly at him. “Thank you. I love you.”

“I love you too.” Chris smiled and yawned. “Lay down next to me, ok? I’m tired and cold.”

Irving smiled and sighed. He lied down next to his lover and wrapped the sheets around them. “Goodnight.” He whispered in his ear.

Chris was already fast asleep. He always was a fast sleeper.

As Irving started to drift off, he thought about his dream. He never told Chris the worst part about this one. This dream was different. This time he DID fully Inject himself with the virus. His body transformed into something grotesque and inhuman. He attacked both Chris and Sheva. But that wasn’t even the worst part.

He never told Chris the worst part. The worst part was the fact that Chris killed him. In this dream Chris had to kill him or else he-

Irving stopped himself from thinking that. He looked over at his sleeping partner and caressed his face. He would never do anything like that. Ever. He was sure of it. This was the man who saved his life. Irving finally relaxed and dozed off, his arms around the waist of Chris, dreaming of him.

[spaz8550]

Stay

Ch 30

Sinead walked into the ball in New Orleans. Her dress was custom made it was light blue and very fitted. She nearly walked into someone and frowned.

"Nikolai." She gritted glancing up to see the face of her first serious boyfriend.

"Sinead." He said with a grin. "I hear you’re dating a Death Eater." Sinead's hands clenched in a fist and she wanted nothing more than to throttle the former quidditch chaser and current Auror.

"Fuck you, that is none of your business."

"Still as feisty as before. I hope things have improved in the bed-" Nicolai didn't finish his statement as Sinead threw a hard punch; it hardly knocked the six foot four man off balance and he chuckled.

"Don't you ever talk like that to me ever again. You were the one who was lacking in the bedroom." She said holding up her pinky as she stalked off as Nikolai tried to keep up with her.

"Sin, I was out of line." He said but she didn't listen.

"Go back to trying to woe the Minister's daughter." She said over her shoulder with a fake grin.

The remainder of the ball Sinead avoided Nikolai who had asked her to dance twice and she was luckily rescued by the Minister once and a wealthy shop owner the second time, Maurice Rampling was a former friend of Nathaniel and was very interested in carrying Sinead's line. His nephew was a Potions Master an often brewed for him but he wanted a new variety in his shop that catered to the elite of New Orleans. Sinead decided to add a few days onto her stay in New Orleans to come to terms with Maurice who was one of the more powerful wizards in New Orleans. Several hours into the ball Sinead was beginning to tire of waiting for Minister Flannery to give her the outcome of the meeting and she was about to leave for hotel when the Minister had her summoned into an office off the ball room.

"Sinead, I know I told you earlier this evening but you look lovely. I think you should know the decision we all reached. Cornelius Fudge isn't as powerful as some on the Minsters and we will be filing a complaint to have him investigated by the International Wizarding Board which is like the muggle United Nations." Sinead smiled and nodded.

"Thank you, Minister. You have done so much since taking office."

"I hear you are meeting with Maurice over the coming days?" Sinead nodded.

"Good to hear, if you want your business to flourish Maurice's praises of your products will do it. Thank you for coming and presenting the information, we will leave your name out of the complaint and just say a very credible witness. Have a nice night and safe travels back home." 

Sinead arrived back at the hotel and pulled out her computer and wrote a quick e-mail to Maggie telling her about the experience with Nikolai and telling her she would be in America longer than expected.

Over the following three days Sinead met with Maurice and his nephew, Vincent, who was not only the resident Potion Master of the shop but also taught first and second years at the all boys wizarding school in New Orleans. Vincent was quiet but after brewing with him one afternoon Maurice questioned Sinead if she would allow Vincent and his apprentice to brew her shampoos and body washes for the American shops freeing up time for Sinead to work on new products. A lengthy legal document was drawn up and several outside witches and wizards were brought in as witnesses to the documents. Maurice gave Sinead a complicated spell for her to use on all her Potion recipes that she would be sending to Vincent to use. The profit in this business venture was not that much but after 5 years the amount would increase and Sinead knew that this would lead to more shop owners wanting to carry her line.

Sinead returned home and spent a few days with her father at their summer home on Martha's Vineyard and he announced that he had served Helen with divorce papers. Sinead hugged her father seeing a large smile on his face that was usually reserved for her, work, or some of his favorite reading material.

"I've also decided that once the divorce is settled I'm going to take Gerhard up on that trip to the National Parks. I could use a nice break from work and it would be nice to get out and see the world."

"I'm happy for yea dad."

"Your mother signed a prenuptial agreement so she will be given spousal support for 5 years time and then I will be completely free of the awful woman. Sinead, can you ever forgive me for forcing her upon you for so long? I should have been more firm and stopped her before she was this out of control." John said looking at his daughter tears in his eyes.

"Dad, don't you dare blame yourself. You have been a great dad, always there to listen to me. You never missed a holiday, birthday, any of my sports games, or any school function."

"I just feel like a failed you. Helen wasn't always this bitter. I think she envies your abilities and it's just plain jealously. She grew up with a witch for a grandmother and I think deep down inside she is resentful that the magic wasn't passed to her." Sinead shook her head and 

hugged her father again.

"Dad, you could have never failed me. I'm glad that both of us are free from her and now you will get to see all the places you want to see and if you want to spend some time in Upper Flagley you are welcome anytime."

The time with her father was what she needed. The night before they were to return to Boston John let it slip that he placed Danny on administrative leave from his job as a paralegal from the firm and was seriously thinking of black listing him from all the good firms in the city. Sinead felt a twinge when she thought about her former best friend. She saw several e-mails from him but she had yet to open and read them. Maggie had mentioned that he called the house and left a message there for her. Sinead boarded her flight to London feeling emotionally exhausted. She was still upset over the loss of her oldest friend but she was happy to know that Fudge would be questioned and that her father would be free from Helen, she had decided that was all the woman would go by no longer wanting to call her by the title of mother. Sinead stopped by Maggie's apartment wanting to nap before Flooing back to her house. Maggie looked at the sad look on her friends face and summoned a paper and began to write.

'Dear Severus,

I may be out of line, but you know of the troubles Sinead had with her mother and Danny back home. She has just arrived and is taking a nap on my couch. If you are able maybe you can visit her today if even for a few moments. I know Sinead will be the last to say it but she needs you. I haven't see her this out of sorts since her grandfather and aunt died. Sorry if this offends you but I need to do what is best for my friend. Sincerely, Maggie.'

[waterfromleaves]

I need someone to go back in time and slap me for buying a stick and pedals in college but not a throttle.

I need ~$130...

really wish i had waited a few years instead of buying CH Product stuff when i did cause all the new sticks started to come out then.  I’d really rather just have a vkb gladiator or something on it’s own.  The build quality on CH stuff ain’t bad but it’s just so dated when it comes to sensors, software, etc.

[cageessentials]

For just $179.98 Features: 1. "HEADLESS FLIGHT SYSTEM" orients the quadcopter's flight on the controller (instead of always on the drone's "head"), making it more fun to fly and easier to master 2. Low-interference 2.4GHz technology 3. 6-Axis gyro stabilization system for effortless recovery after stunts and sudden moves 4. Wind-resistant 5. Control range: 30-50 Meters 6. Flying time: 6-8 minutes 7. Charging time: 60-80 minutes (under current input 0.5A-1A) How to pair the drone to controller: a) Make sure the drone and controller are fully charged b) Place the drone on a flat ground surface. c) Turn on the drone then turn on the controller, put the left joy-stick up and down quickly to pair the drone until the light on the remote control turns to solid, the lights on the drone turn to solid. d) Now the drone is communicated with success. Important Tips: 1. Suitable for pilots aged 14 years or older (please follow the instruction manual carefully) 2. This quadcopter has powerful, ultra-responsive motors. Adjust the throttle slowly to maintain control 3. The motors and circuit board may heat up with use. Take a 10-minute cool-down break between flights to ensure your parts last as long as possible 4. The USB charger should be used with a current input under 0.5A, or you could use an upgraded battery charger (Asin: B00QHUONLE) 5. The weight of the quadcopter is less than .5lb, so no FAA registration is required

[zotips]

CH Products Flight Sim Yoke USB ( 200-615 ), Black

CH Products Flight Sim Yoke USB ( 200-615 ), Black

Price: (as of – Details) Yoke – 20 button(s) – black 5 Axis and 20 Buttons: X & Y axis on the grips for aileron and elevator, Z, R & U axis in the levers for Throttle, prop, mixtureFour traditional push buttons, 2 bi-directional flip switches, 2 bi-directional rocker switches and 1 eight-way POV hat switchTotal of 144 programmable functions with optional PC programming software (included)Plug…

[johnnydixi059-blog]

Flight Simulators: Are they worth it?: flying

As one of one of the most reasonable trip simulators on the market, X-Plane 10 genuinely has it all. Trip sim followers will certainly love creating their own plans or flying their faves. From gliders to space shuttles, the alternatives are limitless. The only trouble I have with it is rudder coordination. NEVERTHELESS, be cautious that excessive simulator training can in fact cause poor practices when functioning in the direction https://5e736a3f91ab8.site123.me/#section-5e74bbc57429c of your PPL.

How do I use Google Flight Simulator?

Microsoft has announced a new installment of its long-running Microsoft Flight Simulator series. The series has generally been PC-only, and although this installment is part of the Xbox Game Pass program (which is also available on PC), Microsoft still refers to it as “Microsoft Flight Simulator for PC.”

Their fluid motion enables precise command over your aircraft, while differential braking offers independent control of the right and also left toe brakes. Another business that makes wonderful flight simulator hardware is CH Products. Their Eclipse Yoke with integrated engine controls levers can a terrific alternative to Saitek's Yoke and throttle quadrant.

I'm a long time simmer and also after lastly transitioning to the real-deal I can tell you it absolutely aids. If you invest adequate time investigating the different add-ons, realistic Pilot Instrument Flight Training look settings, as well as configurations some points are rather near to the real point.

The worth of a sim (any type of sim!) to learn to fly is REALLY (very) restricted.

Kerbal isn't your typical trip simulator, but it's an enjoyable and involving take on the genre nevertheless.

This is specifically real on ground-reference touchdowns, departures, as well as maneuvers, where I feel sims fall far short of fact.

I spent a great deal of time (years) flying MSFS before getting into a cabin for real.

" You can learn A WHOLE LOT in 5 hrs of flight training." On the other hand, once you have that residence rig established, the low price for added simulator flight hours is zero. Also if the feeling isn't best, even just knowing what caused you problems is a large step towards doing far better. The trip simulators typically come pre-setup with absolutely no wind, great weather condition, basic temperature, and so on . Configure yours to pull from real-world climate resources, or add some clouds, a variety of winds, as well as don't always fly at midday. Set the timing for early morning trips, twilight flights, evening trips, etc

You require quick reasoning to use the brakes, as well as not get terrified when a vehicle drives as well close. Though it is not totally similar to a vehicle, it takes a great deal less time to stop it then to safely quit a plane. Take a look at the Aid Facility for a quick introduction on how to address inquiries, specifically acknowledgment of picture sources as well as citation when generating analytical data. I also have regarding 3500 hrs "flying" big tin on VATSIM (if you are major regarding COMPUTER simming and don't understand about VATSIM, Google for it today!). There is the psychological response; that adventure, that sensation of privilege, that unquantifiable human response to flying that is so much more than running the maker.

Flight Simulators: Are they worth it?

What is the best flight simulator?

If you want to approach flight simulators in a way where you learn the most, I'd recommend getting FSX or Prepar3D plus either the A2A Cessna 172 or Piper Cherokee for the appropriate platform. Yes, it's an expensive first step, but you would be getting a very accurate model of a training aircraft.

This standard CH Products Yoke is one of the most affordable one on this listing. CH Products has actually been developing yokes long previously lots of various other gamers on the marketplace. You might think their item layout is a little out-of-date, but they Additional reading still perform quite possibly and are an affordable alternative.

[retrocgads]

USA 1996

[conneratlf635-blog]

Flight Simulators: Are they worth it?: flying

Microsoft Flight Simulator X Deluxe.

They're excellent devices, yet they also bring a great deal of intricacy as well as learning just how to handle that intricacy securely is a whole lot easier utilizing Diamond Flight Simulator Massachusetts a simulator. Obviously you ultimately require to increase, fly, and try what you have actually found out genuine, yet it's no fun trying to scan a G1000 customer overview in trip. I haven't had any type of real-life emergencies, so I do not understand how accurate a flight simulator is. An additional "fun" area where trip simulators can be somewhat valuable is in emergency procedures. Component of Jane's popular collection of trip simulators, Strike Armada is a The second world war simulation where you can take control of a number of historical air fights.

The worth of a sim (any type of sim!) to find out to fly is EXTREMELY (extremely) limited. You get no feeling for the tactile motions and responses in the aircraft.

Flight Simulators: Are they worth it?

How do you fly in Geofs?

has announced that Google Earth Pro is now available for free. Google Earth Pro used to cost $399 per year. Google Earth is a geospatial software application that displays a virtual globe, which offers the ability to analyze and capture geographical data. Under Keyhole, the application was known as EarthViewer 3D.

Each aircraft sets you back $40-$ 50, however you get 2 totally free. One of the most significant airplane is the A-10C, which is my favorite. It is among the very best trip simulators I've ever played, as well as the most effective combat sim. I have actually been educating myself fundamental flying abilities utilizing X-Plane 10 as well as a pair books. Rod Machado's Private Pilot Manual is just created and also well illustrated with all of the fundamental principles.

CH Products offersa excellent throttle quadrantas well, with adequate bars to imitate a twin-engine airplane - something you would certainly need two Saitek throttle quadrants for.

And also, if you do it effectively, you won't find any type of drawbacks with learning with one.

If your budget plan is $0 then I think it is the means to go.

It possibly is a great means to learn more complex procedures if you obtain made Boston MA area Certified Flight Instructors use of to flying and handle your aircraft well.

Your concern especially asks whether it can aid you to learn how to fly or end up being a better pilot. Also the very best full-motion sim isn't a substitute for the pressures a trainee feels in an actual plane.

How do you accelerate on Google Earth Flight Simulator?

So yes, you can learn to fly in a flight simulator, but in my opinion, it is only as good as the information you walk into it with. A good instructor (or YouTube video) goes hand in hand with the sim. Flight simulators can teach certain parts of flying.

A common problem is that individuals might end up being stressed with the instruments in a cockpit, and not look outside. Try and stay conscious of just how much you make use of tools, as well as I highly suggest obtaining a peripheral such as TrackIR, which imitates head motion (finest ₤ 100 I've ever before invested). There are additionally on the internet teams such as VATSIM which supply sophisticated tutoring to fly like an expert, with copilots and talking with volunteer licensed ATCOs. Considering that I was a young child I was addicted to trip sims.

Among one of the most considerable benefits of utilizing flight simulation is the capacity to practice taking care of in-flight emergencies as well as risky situations without the risk of any real danger. In general, trip simulation is a beneficial method to exercise dealing with emergency situation treatments in a low-stress atmosphere. If you actually want to take your simulator experience to an https://nextdoor.com/pages/wings-level-aviation-group-llc-norwood-ma additional level you can even get physical flight simulator tools, on which you can show 12 different tools with a touch of a button. Although not actually essential, some physical switches and handles can greatly boost your simulator experience contrasted to utilizing your computer mouse or keyboard to control those features.

Are flight simulators fun?

Mature experienced airplane pilots can make well over $100,000 per year, but it takes longer to get to the big money than it does for helicopter pilots. Experienced helicopter pilots can make $65,000 to $85,000, and some make up to 100K and above.

[zabpadotcom]

FlySky FS-i6 2.4G 6CH AFHDS RC Radio Transmitter With FS-iA6 Receiver for FPV RC Drone

https://zabpa.com/product/flysky-fs-i6-2-4g-6ch-afhds-rc-radio-transmitter-with-fs-ia6-receiver-for-fpv-rc-drone/ FlySky FS-i6 2.4G 6CH AFHDS RC Transmitter With FS-iA6 Receiver Description: Brand Name:Flysky FS-i6 Specifications: Channels: 6 Channels Model Type: Glider/Heli/Airplane RF Range: 2.40-2.48GHz Bandwidth: 500KHz Band: 142 RF Power: Less Than 20dBm 2.4ghz System: AFHDS 2A and AFHDS Code Type: GFSK Sensitivity: 1024 Low Voltage Warning: less than 4.2V DSC Port: PS2;Output:PPM Charger Port: No ANT length: 26mm*2(dual antenna) Weight:392g Power: 6V 1.5AA*4 Display mode: Transflective STN positive type, 128*64 dot matrix VA73*39mm,white backlight. Size: 174x89x190mm On-line update:yes Color: Black Certificate: CE0678,FCC Model Memories: 20 Channel Order: Aileron-CH1, Elevator-CH2, Throttle-CH3, Rudder-CH4,Ch 5 & 6 open to assignment to other functions. FS-iA6 Specifications: Channels: 6 Channels Model Type: Fixed-wing/Glider/Airplane RF Range: 2.40-2.48GHz Bandwidth: 500KHz Band: 142 RF power:less than 20dBm RF.receiver sensitivity:-105dBm 2.4ghz System: AFHDS 2A Code Type: GFSK ANT length: 26mm Weight:6.4g Power:4.0-6.5V Size: 40.4×21.1×7.35mm Color: Black Certificate: CE,FCC i-BUS port: NO Data Acquisition port:NO Features: Works in the frequency range of 2.405 to 2.475GHz.This band has been divided into 142 independent channels,each radio system uses 16 different channels and 160 different types of hopping algorithm. This radio system uses a high gain and high quality multi directional antenna,it covers the whole frequency band. Associated with a high sensitivity receiver,this radio system guarantees a jamming free long range radio transmission Each transmitter has a unique ID,when binding with a receiver,the receiver saves that unique ID and can accepts only data from the unique transmitter.this avoids picking another transmitter signal and dramatically increase interference immunity and safety. This radio system uses low power electronic components and sensitive receiver chip.The RF modulation uses intermittent signal thus reducing even more power consumption. AFHDS2A system has the automatic identification function,which can switch automatically current mode between single-way communication mode and two-way communication mode according to the customer needs. AFHDS2A has built-in multiple channel coding and error-correction,which improve the stability of the communication,reduce the error ratio and extend the reliable transmission distance. FlySky i6 with iA6B receiver version, click here English Manual,Please Click Here. Package  Included: 1 x FS-i6 transmitter( color box) 1 x FS-iA6 Receiver 1 x Manual Shopping Made Fun

Read More https://zabpa.com/product/flysky-fs-i6-2-4g-6ch-afhds-rc-radio-transmitter-with-fs-ia6-receiver-for-fpv-rc-drone/

[savetopnow]

2018-04-05 20 CAR now

CAR

Auto Spies

Ford Targets Audi And Mercedes-AMG With 400HP Hybrid Focus RS

Drive A Different BMW As Often As You Like For Only $2000 A Month With BMW's New Subscription Service

Outlander And Escape Fall Short In Latest IIHS Crash Tests

Will The EPA's Decision To Rollback Fuel Standards Push Consumers Into Record Debt?

Tesla Isn't Done Yet, But Has Some Serious Cash Flow Issues To Deal With

Autoblog

Biggest losers among automakers if trade war really happens

5,000-mile ‘absurd original condition’ 1978 Toyota Land Cruiser for sale

2018 Range Rover Velar: A rotary shifter done right

Report: Chevrolet to kill Sonic, Ford to end Fiesta and Taurus

Next-gen Toyota 86, Subaru BRZ could arrive by 2021

Car Throttle

Alfa Romeo Is Planning An F1-Derived 641bhp Hybrid Giulia Coupe

Watch This Semi Trailer Full Of Corn Slam Into A Highway Overpass

This Feel-Good Cinema Analysis Proves A Car Is Never Just A Car

[Community] Is torque more important than horsepower?

An Unused Ferrari 458 V8 Is The Engine Your Project Car Needs

Electrek

A look inside Tesla’s new ‘Urban Supercharger’

Kreisel unveils an all-electric fire engine – why not?

New drone flyover of Tesla’s massive Fremont factory

Virgin Hyperloop One releases video of full-scale working pod prototype in test tube track

Green Deals: Fiskars StaySharp Max Reel Lawn Mower $175, more

Inside EVs

Watch Marines Test All 4,900 Pound-Feet Of Torque In Electric Nikola UTV

March Plug-In Electric Vehicle Sales Continue To Soar

Wallpaper Wednesday: Hyundai Kona Electric – Top 11 Images

Watch MW Motors Reveal 186-Mile Luka EV

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Jalopnik

Goodyear Knew Of Dangerous RV Tire Failures For Over 20 Years: Court Docs

The New Porsche Boxster Seems To Have An Unintentional Easter Egg In Its Taillights

Tesla Fanboy Writes Online 'Will' To Be Sure No One Sues Tesla If Autopilot Kills Him

Here's What Those Weird Black Tubes In The Road Are For

Comment Of The Day: Solid Advice Edition

Motortrend

2018 Lincoln Navigator Black Label Interior Review: Forgetting the Old Navigator

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Report: New Ford Focus RS to Make 400 HP, Use Mild Hybrid System

Feature Flashback: Was Luxury Worth It In 1968?

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The Jeremy Clarkson Review: 2018 Kia Stinger GT S

Jerry Seinfeld said that "cars are the most vivid expression of a culture at the time in which they are made." So what does that say about our culture, right Now?

TIL The Google Street Car Raced the Stig on the Top Gear Test Track

After two straight years of saving, I bought my attainable dream car: Infiniti G37 IPL

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Apple’s self-driving car may use VR to simulate escaping a zombie horde

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2018 Lexus RX

Report: Chevy Sonic, Ford Taurus and Fiesta days numbered in US

Passenger-side safety concerns, Jaguar I-Pace driven, Tesla Model 3 production: What’s New @ The Car Connection

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Latest crossover SUV crash-tests reveal alarming discrepancy for passenger-side safety

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Recap: Here’s What We Saw at the New York Auto Show

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Chevy Sonic, Impala and Ford Taurus will soon disappear

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Toyota and Subaru Might Actually Be Working on a New 86/BRZ Sports Coupe

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2018 Honda Clarity PHEV First Drive – Seeking Clarity North of NYC

Ford Taurus to Follow Fiesta Out the Door: Report

[wlwidow]

Shamsi (Ch. 3 & 4)

A Pharmercy fic with bonus Mercymaker, Gabe Angst, and the Talon Trio

Summary: Captured by Talon, Mercy reluctantly cooperates and shares her knowledge with them to keep Pharah safe. But there’s more than one familiar face hidden in the shadows, and old loyalties collide with new motives as they try to figure out who they can trust, and how they can get out alive.

Or, Angela tries to save Fareeha, Gabe, and Amélie but forgets to save herself.

These chapters features~ Pharah and Gabe + the first taste of Mercymaker

[Ch. 1] [Ch. 2] [Read on AO3]

CH. 3

(they were short so I’m posting them together ur welcome)

Fareeha hadn’t been lucky enough to be knocked out. She’d had to let herself be herded onto the helicopter, watching helplessly as Angela was picked up and carried on as well. At least they were being relatively careful with her, though she had to protest when they jostled her injured arm and bumped her head.

Then they took her armor. They left her barely clothed and shivering and battered, threw her in a cell, and there was nothing she could do about it. They had Angela.

She sat in a corner, head in her hands. She tried to think logically. Go through what had happened to try to figure out what was going to happen. Think logically and rationally so she wouldn’t be overwhelmed. She and Angela had been captured by Talon. They had used Angela to get to her. But they treated Angela gingerly; even the knockout blow had been carefully placed, next to no way it could actually injure her. Fareeha didn’t think Angela was in a cell like this right now, which meant she had to be the leverage here. But so few people knew that they were in love; they had been so careful and discreet, for this very reason, so no one would try to take advantage of it.

She exhaled and ran her hands through her hair. That was as much as she was going to be able to figure out right now: Talon was using her to get to Angela. For what or why, she didn’t know. She wouldn’t know. All trying to figure it out would do was make her worry more.

And she was tired. Not the kind of tired she was used to, but a bone-deep exhaustion. Given that and, well, the fact there was nothing else to do in this dark, tiny room, she let herself fall asleep.

xXx

Fareeha wasn’t sure if it was a dream or a memory. She’d woken up blearily in the middle of the night at the sensation of someone watching her. Before her eyes or mind had fully cleared, she’d seen a tall black figure. For the few minutes she was in that hazy, half-asleep state, the figure had remained, standing over and looking down at her. Watching her.

When her eyes opened, she saw what may have been smoke, may have been her mind playing tricks on her in the lonely darkness, then nothing. Then Fareeha had fallen back asleep, or maybe she’d fallen back into another fitful dream. She also thought she’d seen Angela in barely-there bedroom version of her Valkyrie suit lifting her into the sky so they could cuddle on the moon, which also happened to be Winston’s house, but he didn’t mind them crashing. So. She couldn’t exactly trust her nighttime mind.

But she was awake now. The cold concrete pressed into her bare skin, and where she’d slept it was caked with spots of dried blood. That had to be real. Also real? The foam tray slid under her door. Fareeha jumped to her feet as quickly as her injured, weary body could manage and banged on the door with her fist. “Hey! Where is Mercy? If you touch her, I will rain justice all over your ass!”

Silence. What had she expected? Maybe she’d scared whatever junior Talon agent had been tasked with bringing her food; that would be good enough for her right now. She sat down in front of the tray and looked at it disinterestedly. A slice of bread, some kind of Spam-looking meat-product, a foam cup of water. No utensils, no plastic or metal, nothing that could be turned into a weapon.

Fareeha pushed the tray away, then sighed, and pulled it back. She was loathe to eat anything Talon offered her, but she could just hear Angela’s voice scolding her and demanding she keep her strength up. So she put the meat on the bread and ate her makeshift sandwich with only a little bit of a grimace. The first bite was reluctant, but she finished the rest in a heartbeat. She was hungrier than she’d realized. The water she took her time with, only allowing herself a small sip for now.

Like he had been waiting for her to finish, the door to her cell opened and in stepped Reaper, arms crossed. “You ate. Good.”

“What does it matter to you?” Fareeha rose so she was looking him in the eyes, though it was hard to call those narrow slits in his mask eyes. She wanted to throttle him.

“We can’t have you starving yourself.”

“I had no idea you cared.” Her voice was biting.

“I don’t. Angela does.”

She flinched. Then she was angry. Her anger was low, smoldering; Angela’s was hot and rash, when it so rarely came out. But Fareeha’s anger was less rare. “What have you done to her.”

“We healed her.”

“What else did you do to her? Where is she?”

He ignored her questions. “You’re going to stay here. You’re going to eat what we give you. You’re not going to be difficult.”

“And if I don’t?”

“The woman you love will suffer.”

Fareeha bit her lip, then jerked her chin up defiantly. “You will not hurt her.”

“We will. So I suggest you cooperate.”

He slammed the door shut behind him and she rocked back on her heels, her fear finally having space to rise up in her and make her tremble. Cooperate? It wasn’t in her nature. But neither was putting Angela in danger.

CH. 4

Fixing her staff was easy, even with one hand. The snow had saved it, just like it had saved them, and all it took was some rewiring and a few basic repairs to get it functional again.

Replicating her staff was the hard part. Drawing out the diagrams and writing down the formulas sloppily with her left hand, explaining the concepts that made it work to people who had no right to understand or use this kind of technology...it pained Angela, every second. She hadn’t built them a new one today, but she had given them everything necessary to do it themselves. She’d been upset when Ana and Torbjorn had used the nanite technology in ways she didn’t agree with; this was ten times worse. At least they had good intentions. Talon did not.

“There. That’s everything. That’s years of hard work boiled down to a few hours. Can I go now?” Her voice was hollow and tired. Just this morning she’d laughed with Lena, made fun of Genji, encouraged Winston as he led them...kissed Fareeha. Though Talon had given her food and short breaks, they couldn’t give her the energy, the passion she got just by being around the people she loved and doing something good for the world. She’d done nothing good today.

You saved Fareeha, she reminded herself, but all that did was remind her that Fareeha wasn’t really safe at all. She was lonely and scared. Just like Angela.

One of the guards, some low-level Talon agent tasked with watching her, nodded. “I’ll take you to your room.”

Angela rose, still unsteady, not used to the unbalanced weight of her torso. “I need to use the washroom.”

He nodded again. That was all he seemed to do.

Angela went into the washroom, sat awkwardly on a toilet and locked the stall door, and started to sob into the hand she had left. Her breathing was hitched, panic rising, her slow tears falling more and more rapidly. She’d held it together this far only because she’d had to, because she hadn’t been alone, she hadn’t had time to let herself fall apart.

How she felt like she was falling apart. Her arm...she was a doctor, a scientist. She used her hands. She needed her hands. She needed her arms, both arms, to hold her staff. To hold Fareeha. Fareeha was trapped here, because of her, because Angela loved her, and she wasn’t, she wouldn’t be safe. How long would Talon keep her? Keep either of them? How long before they hurt her? How long before Fareeha was dead and Angela might as well be? Before...before she helped Talon hurt people. Before they used what she showed them to do the thing she never wanted, cause violence and pain and suffering.

The door opened and she heard the click of heels, and she tried to muffle her sobs, or quiet them, stopping them completely was too much to ask. The other woman in the washroom didn’t say anything. Angela was suddenly aware of how loud she was, how wet and warm her face was. No matter what Fareeha said, she knew she was an ugly crier, all blotchy cheeks and puffy eyes as soon as she let the tears flow.

How long had it been? Five minutes? Ten? It was hard to keep track when she felt like she was collapsing in on herself. But it was long enough that she knew she needed to leave. And she wasn’t going to face anyone looking like this. She had to stay strong. Or appear strong. Show them they couldn’t get to her, even if they had.

She rose, flushed the toilet as if she’d even used it, and went to the sink. It was as bad as she’d expected. Angela turned on the cold water and bent over, splashing it over her face. When she stood back up, she thought it was the water in her eyes, but, no. Her face was a mask of shock as she saw the woman washing her hands next to her. It was Widowmaker, but...it was someone else, too.

“Amélie?” Angela breathed.

She turned and looked at Angela blankly. Her voice was just the way Angela remembered, but twisted, without the warmth and lilt she loved. “It is Widowmaker now.”

Angela swallowed, fighting back the tears that she had worked so hard to push away. Her voice was a whisper. “What did they do to you?”

“Talon? They made me strong.”

“Amélie, what does that even mean...do you even remember me?

Widow’s eyes flicked up and down Angela’s body. “Of course I remember you, Dr. Ziegler. Why would I forget?”

Angela’s hand tightened into a fist. Her first thought was that Talon must’ve wiped her memories somehow, reprogrammed her; that would explain Gérard and everything since. “You remember everything?”

“Yes.”

“Then why?” Desperation snuck into her whisper. “You were never a killer, Amie.”

She’d hoped using that pet name, the one she’d whispered in Amélie’s ear while they hugged after the ballet, kissed behind corners, and made love in the med supply closet, a Paris hotel room, her husband’s bed maybe that would stir something in her. That Talon hadn’t truly made the woman she’d loved a cold, heartless assassin.

Widow shrugged. “Why not?”

She turned to leave, but Angela lurched forward and grabbed her slender wrist, almost letting go when she felt how cold Amélie’s skin was. “No. Amélie, what did they do to you?”

Widow blinked but did not respond.

Angela raised Widow’s arm. “You’re blue. You’re cold. Explain that, at least.”

“My heart rate has been lowered.”

“Why.” She could think of several reasons off the top of her head, but she wanted Amélie to explain.

“I feel nothing. It makes me more effective.”

“Oh,” Angela exhaled. So that was what they had done to her. Taken away her emotions, so even if she remembered...she didn’t care. Somehow, that was almost worse than if she’d forgotten everything. Knowing that Amélie looked at her, remembered everything they’d shared, and still had this blank expression and uncaring words, that was worse than Amélie not knowing her at all.

She let go of Widow’s wrist, but she couldn’t let go of the hope that maybe, somehow, Amélie could come back to her. It was stupid and she knew she should be focusing on surviving and getting out of here with Fareeha, but she’d thought Amélie dead, and now she was standing right here and there was this chance, no matter how slim, of saving her. That was always her downfall, wanting to save people.

“Are we finished?” Widow asked, bored.

Angela swallowed. “For now. I’m not giving up on you, Amie. I know you’re in there. I know I can save you.”

“There is nothing to save me from. I am strong now, nothing like the pathetic girl you knew.” The slightest, barest hint of a smile touched her lips, but it didn’t make her look any friendlier. “If you are still smart, Angela, you will let Talon make you strong too.”

Angela watched, frozen in place, as Amélie left. That was a threat mingled with faux-friendly advice. Let them make her strong. Join them? Never. Though, a small voice said, the fact that Amélie was even trying to give her that advice, terrible as it was…it hinted that she might still care. Somewhere in there she cared enough to want Angela to do the easiest thing for herself and submit.

She wouldn’t, of course. She’d keep fighting in whatever small ways she could. But they could do what they did to Amélie...but they hadn’t. Though that would be easier for Talon than this. Maybe it wouldn’t. If they hadn’t yet, there was a reason. Amélie was alive. Amélie was Widowmaker. Amélie remembered. Those thoughts were stronger than any speculations; those were facts. Both terrifying and wonderful at the same time.

[robertkstone]

2019 Hyundai Veloster N First Test Review

Hyundai products’ year-over-year progress seems to improve at an exponential rate rather than a linear or incremental one. The step between one generation of a model and its successor is much larger than most manufacturers achieve. Hyundai’s quality, dynamics, and even styling seem to skip a generation while advancing a generation. The Veloster is no exception. Of the first-generation Veloster, we said, “When Hyundai gives it the engine it desperately needs and tunes the suspension to deliver the sportiness the exterior suggests, [the Veloster] will be the hottest pocket-rocket in the segment.” Well, guess what? For 2019, Hyundai did those things and the Veloster advanced to our 2019 Car of the Year finalist round.

In the meantime, however, Honda sucked all the air out of the room by offering for the first time in the U.S. its enigmatic Civic Type R. After setting numerous front-wheel-drive lap records the world over, including at our 2018 Best Driver’s Car competition, it also earned finalist status in our 2018 Car of the Year contest. If that weren’t enough, in a sport compact comparison test against a Ford Focus RS, Subaru WRX STI Type RA, and a Volkswagen Golf R, we named it the winner and called the Civic Type R “the new world-standard hot hatch.” Does the 2019 Hyundai Veloster N have the goods and the aim to take down the king?

First the Details

From technical director Frank Markus’s exhaustive first drive of the entire three-door hatchback Veloster lineup, we learn that for 2019, the Veloster gets updated styling inside and out as well as new engines, transmissions, and suspensions. The new Veloster is 0.8 inch longer and 0.4 inch wider (the N is another 0.4 inch wider), yet the car rides on the same 104.3-inch wheelbase. “Without changing the [nominal] height,” Markus writes, “the roof slopes more steeply, but savvy packaging adds 0.6 inch of headroom, and seats-up cargo space balloons from 15.5 cubic feet to a CUV-ish 19.9 cubes. And, although the stylists have resculpted the flanks, revised the nose, added LED jewelry, and applied the latest aerodynamic tricks like air curtains at the front and rear tires, nobody will mistake this rig for anything but a Veloster.” So true, but now it actually drives like it looks. Visually, the N is distinguished, riding 0.2 inch lower, with exclusive Performance Blue paint (others include Ultra Black, Chalk White, and Racing Red), a mesh grille with a red front splitter, side sills, and red brake calipers. The triangular brake light located on the N-exclusive hatchback spoiler also differentiates it from any other Veloster. It’s a matter of taste, but the Veloster N’s attention to details doesn’t get out of hand compared to the undisputed hot-hatch benchmark, the Honda Civic Type R, which some say has overwrought styling.

The Veloster N’s $27,785 base price nets a high level of equipment. Highlights include a proximity key with push-button ignition, height-adjustable driver’s seat, 60/40 split folding rear seats, automatic headlights, an LED shift-timing indicator, an intuitive 8.0-inch touchscreen display, an eight-speaker Infinity premium audio system with satellite radio, Apple CarPlay/Android Auto, Bluetooth, dual USB and one aux port, a rearview camera with guiding lines, and drive mode selections including Normal, Eco, Sport, and track-focused N. A feature also allows custom calibration of each tunable performance setting from suspension to throttle response. The infotainment system also has cool performance graphics, including G force, turbo boost, torque, and power readings, suspension settings, and a built-in timer. Yet the quality of the apex Veloster’s interior doesn’t quite impress us as much as the quantity of stuff. There are numerous hard plastic surfaces, and the cloth sport seats don’t look or feel any more special than those in lower-tier Velosters. Perhaps a little less restraint and more color and excitement would be nice inside the car.

The only option available on the Veloster N is a thorough and worthwhile $2,100 Performance Pack that ups the 2.0-liter twin-scroll turbo-four’s horsepower from 250 to 275 hp at 6,000 rpm, while torque remains the same at a stout 260 lb-ft at 1,450 rpm. A sportier multi-mode exhaust lets us hear it all better, too. Also included is more aggressive gearing in its six-speed manual transmission and a limited-slip differential that does an excellent job sending power to the proper front wheels. Instead of 18-inch Michelin Pilot Super Sport tires, the package substitutes 19-inch Pirelli P Zero HN tires and bigger brakes front and back, adding vented discs out back. Lastly, electronically adjustable dampers and a smaller-diameter front anti-roll bar are added to quell understeer.

A Short Detour

The first time any of us drove the Veloster N was on the infamous Nurburgring. That’s one heck of a debut and explains one half of its namesake. (N is also the first letter of Namyang, Korea, the location of Hyundai’s global R&D facility, where it was created.) With searing envy, we read features editor Scott Evans’ take on the hottest of the Velosters: “In the two laps I drove at the ’Ring, the Veloster N equipped with the Performance Package felt at home. The Veloster N is fun and confidence-inspiring in corners, and my excitement grew to a different level when I hit the autobahn. The light traffic on a Saturday morning in the countryside made it the perfect day to go fast. How fast? The speedo’s needle moved past an indicated 160 mph, though Hyundai pegs the car’s top speed at 155 mph.” Lucky duck.

Stateside, we first tested the 2019 Veloster N during our 2019 Car of the Year program on its home court, the Hyundai Proving Ground in California City. Alongside the base 2.0, 1.6T, and R-Spec Turbo trims, the N was clearly at the pointy end of the Veloster lineup: quickest to 60 mph, fastest in the quarter mile, grippiest on the skidpad, and most nimble over our industry-exclusive figure-eight test. We needed to get one back and test it on our turf, and in more favorable conditions than the high desert offered.

Testing

Our first stop was the test track where the first order of business was the braking test. In addition to our usual 60–0 mph stops, with high-performance cars, we add a 100–0 stop in every other direction and slice out the 60–0 part. We also use these 100–0 stops to generate half of those telling 0–100–0 times. During brake testing, I found the Veloster N’s attitude flat and straight, its pedal firm, the ABS quick-cycling and smooth, but the car’s attitude rather skittish and skatey. There was a lot of movement happening in the rear that, while it was controlled, wasn’t entirely confidence inspiring. However, the vented discs provided good heat capacity and no brake-pad odor, so there was little fade, even with those 100–0 mph tests added in. In order, the car required 112, 115, 111, and 111 feet to stop from 60, and 4.2 seconds to stop from 100 mph. The Civic Type R needs just 99 feet to stop from 60, and 3.9 seconds to stop from 100 mph.

On the drag strip with the most aggressive “N” mode on and traction control disabled, I found it difficult to carry enough initial wheelspin from a standstill. At first I thought traction control was not fully defeated but soon realized it was due to the immense grip of the P Zero tires. With the engine revving in first gear, coming off the clutch quickly would spin the tires slightly, but then they’d bite and bog the engine down. I found I had to really zing the revs it to produce a smooth, controlled launch with that telltale ch-ch-ch-chirp confirmation. That’s what it needs/wants, and the times improved by 0.5 second—all in the launch. As they say, “drive it like ya stole it.” The clutch pedal’s bite-point is good, but not as intuitive as a Civic Type R’s. The shifter and linkage, too, are good, not great. The Hyundai’s shifter itself is a further reach and the throws between gears are also longer. The results of getting it all just right are 0–60 in 5.9 seconds, 0–100 in 14.0 seconds, and a best quarter-mile pass of 14.3 seconds at 101.0 mph—a slight improvement over the high-desert results but still no match for the Civic Type R with its 5.0-second sprint to 60, and 13.7-second at 105.9 mph quarter-mile pass. The Veloster N’s theoretical 0–100–0 mph time computes to 18.2 seconds, whereas the Civic Type R does it in 16.3 seconds.

The next stop was our figure-eight course, orchestrated by testing director Kim Reynolds. He had a different take on the very same car. Kim said he observed “plenty of understeer, but also several tons of Velcro-like grip.” That’s a good start, and he added, “Power is good, torque is solid, shifter is short and precise (rivals a Miata for sure).” High praise, but he continued, “My only concern is that the brakes aren’t quite a match for the rest of it. I repeatedly overshot after what I thought was a sensible brake point. So I started to intentionally brake a little early.”

We see this sort of thing in some really fast sports cars; because they arrive at the left and right corners at such a high rate of speed, it feels like the brakes aren’t up to the task of slowing for the skidpad. I just checked the data, and Kim was going 71.4 mph before standing on the brake pedal. Any speed over 70 mph is considered pretty exceptional. Kim concluded, “The mid-corner understeer is inescapable but probably safer for the average Hyundai road warrior.” For his efforts, the Veloster N generated a 24.9-second lap and left-right average lateral acceleration was 0.95 g. Again, that’s a slight improvement over its previous results but no match for the Civic with its 73.4-mph V-max, 24.3-second lap, and 1.01-g lateral acceleration figure.

L.A.-L.A. Land

Heading out into the real world of L.A.’s freeways, city streets, and twisting foothills, we get a bigger picture of the Veloster N’s practicality, abilities, and liabilities. We appreciate the whimsy of an unconventional three-door body configuration, but the coolness factor went away as soon as four people wanted to ride in the car, one of whom had to crawl across the back seat. That slightly vague clutch uptake we noticed in testing became more problematic in bumper-to-bumper traffic, as did the shifter throws with wider-than-ideal gates. On the highway, tire and wind noise are well isolated, but so is the better-than-Civic exhaust note. However, roads we once thought smooth grew suddenly bumpier. Even in the softest, Normal mode in the Veloster N, there was too much vertical motion in the cabin. Neither car deals well with sharp tire impacts, but at least the Civic, also with multi-mode dampers, manages to better smooth ripples and undulations, remarkably well, in fact. Lastly, taking on any of the numerous squiggly roads that lead into the hills surrounding L.A. is always a joy in a sporty car—and so it was with the Veloster N. We appreciated the power, the steering, the brakes, and the grip, yet there was just something missing. It’s that sense of unique discovery, like you’re the only one who knows what a great car the Veloster N is. It’s really good, but it didn’t rise to the level of special or extraordinary in the way we had hoped it would. It certainly stands at the top of the Veloster pack, but not by as much as we’d expected it would or should. It turns out its biggest problem is not the Civic Type R, but the Veloster R-Spec.

What About the Veloster R-Spec?

At $23,785, some $6,100 (or about 20 percent) below the price of this N, the R-Spec (pictured in red below) offers about 95 percent the performance of the supposed apex trim, rides far better, and has a more interesting interior. Also with a six-speed manual, the lighter, 201-hp R-Spec is about a half second behind in acceleration, stops just as short or shorter, is just 0.02 g below on the skidpad, and but 0.3 second behind on the figure-eight. It’s hard to justify the Veloster N when the R-Spec is nipping at its heels.

Then, obviously, the $5,710 (or about 20 percent) jump from Veloster N Performance Pack to a Civic Type R is equally big, and one could argue against it for the same reasons: Why get a Civic Type R if its performance isn’t that much better? The way it accelerates is similar, but it’s about a full second quicker across the board, which feels absolutely bonkers in a front-drive car. The Civic’s supercar-like lateral grip and 60–0 braking are noticeable, too, even to non-car people. And the Type R’s shifter, like the one in the long-gone S2000, is one for the ages. The difference is that the 306-hp Civic Type R is in an altogether different class of hot hatch. We’ve called it a game changer and still stand by that judgment.

2018 Honda Civic Type R 2019 Hyundai Veloster N 2019 Hyundai Veloster R-Spec Turbo DRIVETRAIN LAYOUT Front-engine, FWD Front-engine, FWD Front-engine, FWD ENGINE TYPE Turbocharged I-4, alum block/head Turbocharged I-4 alum block/head Turbocharged I-4, alum block/head VALVETRAIN DOHC, 4 valves/cyl DOHC, 4 valves/cyl DOHC, 4 valves/cyl DI from PerformanceJunk WP Feed 3 https://ift.tt/2T1sglX via IFTTT