#I just wish merlin had cared enough to believe in himself

[ladyofthelake]

#this is so true cause I was watching the moment of truth the other day#and obvs in that ep Merlin seriously considers telling Arthur about his magic#in fact he starts to tell him multiple times#so as early as S1 Merlin felt like they had developed enough of a bond that there was a chance that Arthur might accept him#and it made me wonder why we didnt get more episodes like that in later seasons#when Merlin was so close to telling Arthur not just because he was about to be found out anyway#but because he actually thought he might accept him#and I realised that it’s because nearly every time they got close to that point#something would happen to derail it#Merlin and Arthur spend years developing a beautiful relationship#but every once in a while something happens that sets Arthur’s attitude to magic back a few steps#and so Merlin is condemned to live another couple of years with his magic a secret#and the cycle continues#ofc that’s not to say that Arthur made no progress in his attitude to magic but moments like this is why it took so long imo#and honestly kinda fair enough? like obviously not saying he was right to dislike magic but we need to remember#he's literally been brought up to hate it not least cause it killed his mother#and then every time he questions that belief and starts to think that maybe it's not as evil as he once thought#he'll lose someone or something that will only work to reaffirm all his prior beliefs#like my man had to deconstruct an entire belief system that wasn't just gonna happen overnight#but poor merlin tags via wildernessofwater (they were way too good I had to reblog them)

“I am indebted to you, Merlin. I had become…confused. It is once again clear to me that those who practice magic are evil and dangerous.”

[bri-cheeses]

| Rosekiller microfic | Word count: 663 | I wrote this such a long time ago and just stumbled upon it recently lol | Anyways, give it up for asexual Evan (my beloved) <3 |

-

“You don’t want me, okay?”

“Yes, I do!” Barty ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “Why is it so hard for you to believe that?”

“Because you don’t want me.”

“But I do—”

Evan interrupted him sharply.

“You might think you do, but you don’t. So just leave it alone, okay?” Evan’s words were biting, intended as much for himself as they were for Barty.

“I don’t understand why you’re so insistent upon this. I do want you, have wanted you for a long time—why can’t you believe that?”

Evan just glared at him.

“Please, Evs, tell me what it is.” He was begging now, desperate for a response.

“You just… wouldn’t. Want me, that is. Not if—” Evan cut himself off. He’d gone too long without saying it to confess anything now. Old habits die hard, and all that.

“Not if what? You can tell me, you know you can. Don’t convince yourself that you can’t.”

And it was that last sentence that caused a bolt of anger to make its way through Evan chest. He could feel it, tightening and squeezing as his breaths grew short and quick.

Barty thought that he’d be okay with it, this secret that Evan was keeping from him, but he wouldn’t be. Evan had spent too long being his friend to not know that about Barty.

And it was unfair of him to demand an explanation from Evan. Because despite the long years of friendship between them, Barty didn’t deserve it, hadn’t earned it yet, and it was mighty presumptuous of him to think that he had.

“Merlin, Barty, can’t you just leave it alone?”

“No! You know why? Because for whatever reason you’re denying this right now—” he gestured between them— “you’re just making both of us miserable. I can tell, so don’t lie to me and say that you want it to be like this. Because you don’t.”

“You’re right, I don’t want it to be like this! I never have! I never asked for this, or wished for this, or tried to be this way, and yet, guess what? Here I am anyway.”

Evan breathed heavily, worrying flickering through him at what he’d just revealed. But he desperately, perhaps foolishly, hoped that his words were vague enough that his true meaning would remain unclear .

“Drop it, Bee,” Evan insisted finally, then made to turn around.

He didn’t get far before a hand grabbed his sleeve, turning him back around to face an angry Barty.

Their faces were so close, near enough that Evan could see the way Barty’s eyes were slightly tightened with displeasure but also… worry. It did something funny to his chest even as he hoped that his own emotions weren’t written out as clearly.

“Evan, listen to me. I’m not giving up on this until you tell me what the problem is, because I deserve to know. I deserve to know why you won’t even try for a chance at us.”

Barty’s hand on Evan’s sleeve tightened as he talked, seemingly unbeknownst to Barty himself. It echoed the way Evan’s anger tightened in his chest, working its way through him.

“This isn’t your thing to know. You aren’t entitled to everything about me, and this? You don’t deserve it.”

Barty flinched, but Evan carried on.

“You haven’t earned this, so no matter how much you want to beg and twist and needle, I’m not going to tell you. Because I do not want to.”

Evan shook off Barty’s hand, then looked away as he delivered the final blow, tone filled with a hint of violence. “So just leave it alone, Crouch.”

It was the last name that did it. Evan could see it in the way Barty stumbled back, looking a little lost. Evan would bring himself to care, but it gave him the perfect opportunity to leave.

And leave he did, turning on his heel and storming out, leaving Barty a confused, questioning mess behind him.

-

[r4yra]

James's Forbidden Desires (NSFW)

Summary: He didn't know why he did it, maybe it was anger, maybe it was curiosity, but, impulsively, James leaned in closer to Barty’s face, his lips grazing the shell of his ear as he whispered soft, teasing words, all the while keeping eye contact with Remus. Barty's breath hitched at the sudden lick at his ear and groaned at the following rough bite at his earlobe. Without wasting a second, Crouch, still unknowing of Remus’ presence, pushed James into the wall, pulling the boy’s ankles close to his ears and pounded away, directly into James’ sweet spot.

Or

James’ two best friends/crushes (more like the loves of his life, you can only like someone for so many years until you have to admit it’s more than just a crush) were dating each other, leaving him lonely and with way too much free time. He had to find his way of coping, and it just so happened that Crouch was in need of coping too.

Ship: James Potter x Sirius Black x Remus Lupin

Tags: Not Actually Unrequited Love, Unrequited Love, Angst, Established Sirius Black/Remus Lupin, Barty Crouch Jr. & James Potter Friendship, Everyone Needs A Hug, James Potter Needs a Hug, Face-Fucking, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Being Walked In On, Friends With Benefits, Jealous Remus Lupin, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Marauders, Marauders Friendship (Harry Potter)

As the soft moonlight filtered through the windows of the astronomy tower, James Potter’s hands wrapped around Barty Crouch Jr. with familiar ease. Barty let out a contented sigh, his head falling back in relaxation.

“Merlin James, you get better at this by the day,” Barty murmured, leaning into the touch.

A smirk made its way to James’ lips. “I have a very thorough instructor.”

At that, Barty let out a breathy chuckle. “That so, huh? I’ll have to send him my thanks… It’s like you have magic in those hands,” Barty murmured, head falling back.

James chuckled softly, a playful glint dancing in his eyes. "Well, I've been known to work wonders."

Barty's smirk grew wider as he moved more into James's touch. "I'm intrigued. Care to show me a few tricks?"

James leaned in closer, the warmth of his breath on him sending a shiver down Barty's spine.

But clearly, Barty was done with the dirty talk, because as soon as James’ mouth was close enough, he thrust into it, his own mouth opening in a silent moan.

The thrusts were rough and strong, no sweet talking or gentle pets of affection, even Crouch’s kisses were rough, the taste of blood still lingered on his lips. The force of his thrusts didn't allow his brain to make any coherent thought besides how good it felt. Just like James wanted, and needed. Anything to get his mind off of the reason why he’s here in the first place.

“We’re together, James… Me and Pads.” No! Merlin no, get those beautiful emerald eyes out of his mind, looking at him with what he could’ve sworn was pity. Remus deserved to be happy. Sirius deserved to be happy. They were perfect together, like the stars and the moon. You can’t think of one without thinking of the other. They made each other happy. Believe him, James knows this.

He’s seen the looks and smiles they share, so much love and so much longing. There was a time when he could make them smile that way too, but lately, it felt so distant. Part of that was his fault, he didn't stick around them long enough to make them smile.

He feels guilty for distancing himself, but he can't bear the pain when he sees them being passionate with each other. The forehead kisses, the hand holding, the hickeys and the scratch marks that he wished littered his body too, he’d show them off to everyone to see. Show everyone he belonged to them . 

It wasn’t jealousy, he wished it was, at least he’d be able to feel angry about it. He felt longing, to be on the receiving end of the love they shared so openly, to fit right in with them. But in between all of that love, there was no space for James, he knew that for a fact.

Late nights unable to sleep, James spends long hours in the Gryffindor common room, burying himself in books or practicing spells to distract himself from the ache in his heart. He was too scared to go up there and see Sirius and Remus cuddled up in the same bed, looking so peaceful.

Flying through the air, James throws himself into Quidditch practice with reckless abandon, pushing his body to the limit to drown out the voice in his head that tells him he's not good enough for Sirius and Remus. He pretends not to notice their concerned glances from the sidelines, afraid to let them see his vulnerability.

Meals in the Great Hall, sitting at the Gryffindor table, James picks at his food, his appetite diminished by the knot of loneliness in his stomach. He joins in the laughter and chatter of his friends, but his mind is elsewhere, consumed by thoughts of Sirius and Remus and the love he can never have.

Walking through the streets of Hogsmeade, James keeps his distance from Sirius and Remus, convinced they're happier without him. He puts on a brave face, but inside, he's crumbling, desperate for a connection that seems just out of reach.

At parties, James dances with Peter, his movements stiff and mechanical as he tries to block out the memory of seeing Sirius and Remus lost in each other's arms. He avoids looking at them, afraid that if he does, they'll see the longing in his eyes.

Writing letters to his parents, James paints a picture of happiness and success, concealing the loneliness and heartache that gnaws at his soul. He avoids mentioning Sirius and Remus, afraid that if he does, the truth will come spilling out.

His friends don't deserve that, but every time he saw the passion and love in their eyes it was just a reminder that he didn't do that, that he wasn't a part of that love, and that it would never be directed at him.

He remembers the night after they told him they were together, how only after having no more tears to cry he went searching for Crouch. Begged him to make him forget them. Wouldn’t be the first time, Crouch and him had hooked up a handful of times before. Sirius would’ve killed him if he found out he was fraternizing with Crouch.

Crouch, by a divine coincidence, was too going through some romantic issues of his own, and fucking the pain away definitely sounded like a plan. Just like right now, James’ brain had been empty, the only thing he could process was the feeling of Crouch’s cock down his throat, and of his own fingers stretching him open, ready to take Crouch.

“Ngh, almost there… off. Off!” Crouch had to pry the brunette off his cock or he would’ve cummed right down his throat. But as good as that sounded, he had other plans for tonight. He pulled James up and switched places with him, slamming him into the wall and attacking his neck with bites. 

Soon enough, James had to hold onto Crouch’s shoulders for dear life, his only support being the arms under his knees. Barty was pounding him like he was being paid to do it. How Crouch looked so skinny but could still bounce James’ body weight like a flesh-light was beyond him.

As the thrusts settled into a rhythm his mind got lost in the pleasure, however, when he noticed movement out of the corner of his eye, his pleasure-filled expression (he hadn’t even realised he was making) faltered, and he turned to see Remus entering the tower, his expression dark and intense.

 James froze, his hands stilling on Barty's shoulders as he registered the presence of his best friend. His heart raced, and a mixture of guilt and anticipation flooded his senses. He couldn't believe Remus had walked in on this intimate moment between him and Barty.

The taller boy’s expression was a mix of shock and… anger. Remus's eyes flickered between James and Barty, his jaw clenched. Remus's eyes narrowed, something simmering beneath the surface, but he said nothing, his gaze locked on James with such intensity that it sent a jolt of electricity down James's spine. He felt exposed under Remus's piercing gaze, the air thick with unspoken tension. Despite the shock of being caught, a part of James couldn't deny the rush of excitement at Remus's unwavering gaze.

James couldn't tear his gaze away from Remus, his mind racing with a mixture of emotions. There was surprise at being caught like this, guilt for betraying the unspoken trust between them, and an undeniable flicker of something else – a longing that James had buried deep within himself over the past 2 months… Why should James feel guilty? What unspoken trust is he even talking about? Remus has Sirius, and Sirius has Remus. And they had no compromise with James, so what was with this reaction? What in the world made Remus think that he had any right to look at James like he’s just caught someone else playing with something that belongs to him? Why should James feel guilty about fucking someone else?!

He didn't know why he did it, maybe it was anger, maybe it was curiosity, but, impulsively, James leaned in closer to Barty’s face, his lips grazing the shell of his ear as he whispered soft, teasing words, all the while keeping eye contact with Remus. Barty's breath hitched at the sudden lick at his ear and groaned at the following rough bite at his earlobe. Without wasting a second, Crouch, still unknowing of Remus’ presence, pushed James into the wall, pulling the boy’s ankles close to his ears and pounded away, directly into James’ sweet spot. 

James’ voice became a chorus of sweet meowls and “Ah, ah, ah”s but he never once took his gaze off of Remus. Kept glaring at him, over Barty’s shoulder, challenging him, a clear expression of ‘What?!’ 

But Remus did nothing, said nothing. In fact, he turned to leave. But not before he caught James’ lips forming the word:

“Coward.”

He froze for a moment, just like James had when he first walked in. James could see the frustration on the other boy’s face. An internal battle, over what he should do, over how he should respond, but James didn’t want to hear it, see it. He was so done with this, all of it. The emotions were too much, so he sought shelter in Crouch’s shoulder, trying to focus back on the pleasure. And if he flinched at the click of the door closing behind Remus, that was his own business.

If you'd like to read it on AO3:

(Still debating if I should continue or not, either way hope you enjoyed it! ^^)

[saturnsconstellation]

“Maryyyyy!” Was the first thing that Mary heard as soon as she disembarked the Hogwarts express, her third school year waiting ahead of her. She wished this year would go calmly, compared to her last, but the manic grin and wild green eyes that greeted her as she debarked confirmed that her expectations were were bound to be fruitless.

“Crouch.” She grumbled, rolling her eyes at the second year adorned with the green and silver tie that distinguished his house from hers. Barty hadn’t changed one bit, she noticed; his hair was unruly and broken — caused by his habit of pulling on the roots, — his teeth were still crooked and yellow-ish and his eyes still promised caos. Typical. “I see you haven’t done much changing.”

Barty barked out a harsh laugh, and Mary fought to suppress a grin. Merlin, he was insufferable; “Awww! I’m glad you’ve been paying attention to me enough to notice I haven’t changed,” he feigned commotion, and Mary felt relieved that her skin hid the fact that she was blushing mad, “Well,” Barty continued, taking a few steps forward and stationing himself right beside her, “I suppose you haven’t changed either, as lovely as ever.”

“Piss off, Crouch.”

“But my lovely Rosemary,” Barty intertwined their arms and grabbed her luggage. Then — even tho he was a foot shorter — forced her to walk in direction of the castle, “How then would I accompany you to our beloved school?”

“I don’t need your help!” Mary tried to fight back, earning a few laughs from other passing students; Gods, she just wanted to push Barty to the ground and punch him until his teeth straightened. He deserved it, oh Merlin, he deserved it. Mary abruptly pushed him off; watching with a satisfied smile how he tumbled backwards, “I can carry my own stuff,” She announced, brushing dust off her skirt, “And don’t call me Rosemary, it’s a terrible name. Now I believe we both have somewhere to go, so get lost.”

Mary hoped she sounded as threatening as she felt, and her hopes were skyrocketing for the first five seconds in which Barty was utterly speechless. Until, of course, he let out the loudest, craziest laugh Mary had ever heard. Then her hopes were shattered and annihilated, and she felt like a confused toddler watching as the adults laughed at a joke she didn’t get.

Barty made her feel like a toddler, which was completely ridiculous considering she was not one but two years older than him.

“Oh Mary,” he wheezed. Mary expected an explanation, but it never came; instead, the younger boy kept walking — legs wobbly because of the meaningless laughs he’d let out occasionally.

Once he was long gone, Mary grabbed her case from the floor; sighing as she did so.

Whatever. Who cares about peace and quiet anyways?

(This was not proof-read lol)

@starmanbutitsregulusblack @aesthetic-writer18

[wingletblackbird]

We need more Gaius content. He’s so complex. We know that he doesn’t wholly support the Purge, but he also does not seem to have been entirely against it. Or rather he thought before the Purge magic was abused or misused. He prides himself on his rationality and not believing in superstition. He doesn’t seem to care all that much about magic. It’s just a tool and a dangerous one that can get out of control. Whatever.

How much or the above influenced his decision to betray his kind? How much was simply sheer terror?

We know that Gaius worked with Nimueh and the other Priests/Priestesses. Perhaps he didn’t like the way they used their power. When he’s talking to Edwin, whose face is scarred from the flames that burned his parents alive, Gaius is just casual about it. Your parents used dark magic; they deserved it. You’re missing the point, Gaius! It didn’t matter how they used magic; everyone with magic was supposed to get that treatment! And you backed Uther!

In any case, we know that Gaius was trusted enough to be given a list of magic-users bound for execution. Gaius takes the name of his beloved off, but leaves the others to die. Just so long as people he cares about are safe, I suppose. If he’s given that list, it’s because he’s helping find these people. This is how he proves his loyalty by selling them out.

Gaius seems to by and large convince himself that the Purge was somewhat justified because “people abuse magic” and be even tells Merlin at one point that “magic corrupts.” (Like I feel so bad for Merlin that the one person who can teach him magic doesn’t even seem to like it.) However, at some point the excesses get to Gaius and he saves Edwin’s life and Balinor’s.

Nonetheless, Gaius still sympathises with Uther. They have the “I don’t believe in superstition” thing in common, I guess. I wonder what else there is to their history that Gaius tells Kilgharrah he doesn’t want to step back and allow Uther to be killed?! Like, Gaius, Kilgharrah is right, how many other times have you failed to act? But, you’ll defend the genocidal tyrant? And then he does? Why?

Then in Le Morte d’Arthur, Gaius in his letter to Merlin says how his life hasn’t had much purpose. Clearly, he doesn’t think a lot of what he’s done. There is a level of guilt and culpability here, and yet…

I just wish all of this fascinating complexity has been explored. I think Gaius learned magic from the priests/priestesses but didn’t like all the ways they used it. When he asked Nimueh to help with Igraine, and it backfired, Uther and Gaius may have been on the same page initially.

Then Uther took it too far, and Gaius was like well, guess I’ll save my own skin. Besides, most of these people are all horrible anyway.

And since he let them all die to protect himself, he’s all in Uther’s camp now because he’s basically sacrificed too much to be there. He’s sold his soul.

Every once in awhile he’ll save someone with magic, provided he’s reasonably sure it won’t come back to bite him, or they mean something to him on some level.

I think he sees helping Merlin as his atonement in some ways, but also not so far that he’ll ever admit that his methods were wrong. Kilgharrah even accuses him of working against Merlin’s destiny and in some ways I believe it. As time passes, Gaius does get more and more behind the idea of magic coming back. However, Gaius never quite manages to cross that line of acknowledging the true scope of what he’s done and been a part of. As always, he buries it all deep within.

Gaius is such a fascinating character. We needed more shows about him. He is entirely under-explored.

[icarusignite]

An Eye for an Eye (part 13)

A/N:  Fancasting Morgana from Merlin as Cassandra Baratheon :P Comments and reblogs are appreciated, I love hearing y'alls thoughts <3

Word Count: 2652

All chapters: MASTERLIST

Aemond landed in King's Landing, cursing profusely. His tunic was soaked from the wound in his side and blood trickled sluggishly from the bite on his arm. It did not help his foul mood when he was told that he had to report to the king immediately. He swore again, this time at his brother, for who did he think he was, ordering Aemond around like a dog? As if Aemond didn't already shoulder enough burden carrying the King's responsibilities while he lost himself to his cups and his whores every day. He pressed his fist to his side and made his way to the throne room.

"Your Majesty," the words were bitter in Aemond's mouth.

"What news from the Baratheons? Have you secured Prince Jaehaerys's betrothal?" Otto spoke up.

"I'm afraid there has been a situation grandsire. We can no longer rely on the support of the Baratheons. Lord Borros is dead and his daughter sits on his throne now. She has chosen to ally herself with Rhaenyra," Aemond responded.

Otto's lip curled with distaste, "A child leads the Baratheons now and you could not even secure an alliance with her? She would be even easier to bargain with than Lord Borros. How could you accept this betrayal."

Aegon chose this moment to have an outburst, his words slurring slightly, "That whore of Dragonstone is stealing my allies? Who does she think she is? Go back to Storm's End brother and win the Baratheon girl over. Tell her you'll marry her or something."

"You know I cannot do that," Aemond's jaw clenched.

"Ha, why not? Is it because of that whore's daughter? In case you forgot, she is the one who abandoned you. She is a whore like her mother and she has likely already replaced you. You might as well do the same and gain your brother more allies!"

An image of Daenys flashed in Aemond's mind, unbidden. He remembered seeing her back in Storm's End. He wondered if she had been sparring with a knight or perhaps some other lowborn fool with whom she was having a dalliance. It sent a bolt of anger through him, bright and hot. She really was just like her whore mother; she was a bastard returning to her roots. He closed his eyes in exasperation because he did not wish to hear all his worst fears spoken aloud from Aegon's drunken mouth. Just when he was about to give his brother a scathing reply, his mother rushed into the room. He tensed further, wondering how she would express her disappointment.

"Aemond you have returned. Do we have a betrothal set?" Alicent questioned.

"Your foolish son failed `to draw up an agreement with a mere girl. There is to be no betrothal, no alliance," Otto spat and Alicent flinched.

Aemond opened his mouth to protest, to explain that Daenys had been there and that there was more to the story but he thought better of it. That would lead them to believe that he still cared for her. That he had allowed her presence to distract him from his task. That he had returned empty-handed because of her. Otto would tell him that he should have just slit her throat right there and be done with it and his mother would give him that mournful betrayed look that said that he cared more for his wife than his own family. It was better that they just thought him incompetent enough to not have been able to strike a favourable deal with Cassandra Baratheon.

Before Aemond could say anything, Alicent's sharp eyes caught on the way he clutched his side and she let out an exclamation, "Aemond you're hurt."

Aemond only grunted slightly, "It is nothing Mother, do not worry. Just an arrow."

"Nonsense. We must get you to a maester at once," Alicent then looked toward Otto defiantly. "Further discussions can wait until my son has been tended to."

"Always the favourite child weren't you brother," Aegon's disgruntled voice echoed after Aemond as Alicent led him away to his chambers.

_______________

Daenys and Cassandra were still sitting in the courtyard when a knight came rushing up to them with urgent news.

"There is a man here claiming to be your cousin, my lady and he demands to speak to you. He...he does not look very happy," the knight bowed while he spoke.

Cassandra's spine straightened and she stood, giving Daenys's arm one last pat of consolation.

"Tell him I will be with him shortly, and make sure my sisters are secure. You never know what anyone is thinking anymore," she commanded, every bit the ruler she was meant to be.

Daenys smiled wryly at her indomitable friend, "Here come the men now, clamouring for your throne."

"And they will be dealt with accordingly. I will not allow anyone to take away my birthright!"

Daenys reached out to squeeze her hand, "I know you do not need me, but if it is alright with you, I should like to accompany you."

Cassandra gave her a gentle smile, "I'd like that."

In the castle's throne room, they were greeted by a gruff-looking man. When he caught sight of Cassandra, he bowed. Cassandra looked surprised as she took her seat on the dais but she nodded at him to approach. Daenys on the other hand stood to her right, slightly behind her. She kept her hand near her sword in case she would need it. One never knew when such meetings became messy.

"Lady Cassandra. I have come to offer my sincerest condolences on the passing of your father," the man proclaimed.

"Yes, Cousin Richard. It is indeed a tragedy. I thank you for your condolences and I hope I can count on your continued support," Cassandra returned regally.

"Yes yes. Your father was a beloved companion of my father, kin almost as close as brothers. He would want me to continue to support you. In fact, what better way to do so than as your husband? Now that you are the lady of the house, you will be in want of a husband no doubt and suitors with all sorts of malicious intentions will flock to the castle," Richard continued, a sly grin spreading across his face.

Cassandra stiffened, "I assure you I am not seeking a husband for now. I have other responsibilities to fulfill and I must think of my sisters' futures before establishing my own like that."

"Yes, but you must hurry. It is imperative that you take a husband soon so that you may properly establish your leadership."

"I don't see how marrying someone will have any impact on my leadership Cousin?"

"Well...er... you see, no one will take you very seriously will they? I mean no disrespect, my lady, it is just the truth plain and simple. A husband will back your claims and stand by you in front of the people. No one would dare question your authority then."

"You mean no one would dare question my husband?" Cassandra arched an eyebrow.

"Well, I suppose that is true, in a manner of speaking. But the husband's duty would only be to provide assistance and support. I offer myself up for this humble task. I have no ambitions of my own, only to see my house flourish and to aid the daughter of my dear departed uncle."

"No ambitions of your own? You say this and yet here you are, scheming and plotting to become Lord of Storm's End?" irritation crept into Cassandra's voice.

Richard blanched and frantically shook his head, "No my lady. I would never. I simply wish to be of service."

"Very well then, thank you for the offer but I am afraid I will have to decline," Cassandra stated firmly, hoping to dissuade him.

"You cannot decline such a gracious favour. You will only get older and you will no longer be of any appeal to anyone. Any other man who asks for your hand will only be after your title!"

"As opposed to you who is not even remotely after my title?"

"No, I am not. It is disrespectful of you to even suggest so. Lady Cassandra, I thought you were a wise woman who would be open to taking advice but I see now that you are just a foolish little girl who has no idea what her responsibilities are."

Cassandra slammed her fist down on her seat's armrest before standing abruptly, "I will not stand for being insulted in my home. Leave at once Cousin before I have you thrown into the dungeons!"

A flash of something vicious flashed across Richard's face before he schooled his expression into one of benevolence. Before he could open his mouth to respond, there was a disruption in the hallway and Floris ran blindly into the room, chased by her older sister Ellyn. Floris crashed into Richard and finally stumbled to a stop. A slow grin spread across his face as he firmly placed his hand on her shoulder and looked up at Cassandra.

"Well, if you are in no mood to choose a husband for yourself, I would happily marry your sister instead."

Daenys unsheathed her sword and took a menacing step forward, which made Richard take a step back, gripping Floris's shoulder even together, using her as a shield.

"Unhand my sister at once. She is but a mere child. What makes you think I would betroth her to you?" Cassandra raised her voice.

Richard's eyes swept the room with a hungry leer and eventually landed on Ellyn who was standing a few paces away, "Then perhaps you will betroth me to another sister. Any one will do. You will get nowhere without my support Lady Cassandra."

"No, you will not be marrying anyone here Cousin."

The hand on Floris's shoulder tightened enough that it made her whimper. Richard bent down and brought his face close to hers, "You will marry me won't you Floris? Help out your sisters and do your duty. They will be thrown out if you don't!"

Floris's eyes filled with tears as she tried to wrench away from his grasp but he only pulled her closer.

"Say yes Floris! Do it for your sisters! They will die if you do not!" Richard's voice echoed throughout the room.

"Enough!" Cassandra thundered, "stop bothering my sister. You are scaring her."

Cassandra strode toward the two and pried his hand off her sister's shoulder before gesturing to the knights nearby to seize him.

"You will regret this! You will regret not accepting me when they come for you. You are not fit to rule. That seat, that position does not belong to a pathetic woman like you. Even your father didn't think any of his foolish little girls were fit for it. It's why he always lamented the lack of a son, didn't he?" Richard bellowed as the knights pulled him away.

"Take him to the dungeons. A few nights spent there will cure him of his rebellion," Cassandra commanded.

Once Rochard was out of sight, she crouched down low and pulled her younger sister into her. Daenys finally approached them slowly, not wanting to disturb them.

"I am sorry. I should have done something when he took ahold of her," Daenys whispered.

Cassandra shook her head resolutely, "No, thank you for not doing anything. He needed to see that I am more than capable on my own. I need to be capable. After all, I will not have you with me all the time to fight my battles."

Daenys looked on helplessly, as she watched her friend brush her fingers through her sister's hair, trying to comfort the little girl but she still shook like a leaf and her tears did not stop.

"I--I was scared he was gonna take me away," Floris wailed.

"Hush now. Why would he take you away? No one will take you away," Cassandra soothed.

"The man, he was going to take me away like that prince from before tried to take away Princess Daenys."

Daenys knelt down beside the two sisters, gently placing her hand on the younger girl's shoulder, "Well, you saved me back then didn't you? So I would have saved you if someone tried to take you away. We're friends, aren't we? Friends always save each other."

Floris sniffled, "Promise?"

Daenys smiled, "I promise."

Cassandra watched the princess thoughtfully, "Daenys would you take her?"

"Take her? Take who? Floris?" Daenys was perplexed.

"Yes."

"Where would I take her?"

"Back to Dragonstone."

Daenys's eyes widened "Why would I take her there? Besides, I'm pretty sure she'd rather be here, with her sisters, where it's familiar."

"Yes, but she'll be safer in Dragonstone. Away from here, where someone might hurt her. And I'm not sure I'll be able to protect her every time."

"I'm not sure Dragonstone will be any safer. My mother has enemies. That means assassins, mercenaries, and death at every corner."

Cassandra's jaw set stubbornly, "Please. Please do this for me. No one there will be looking to hurt her specifically. I fear I have made many enemies and my relatives think I have usurped a position that was rightfully mine. They will come and they will want to hurt my sisters to bend my will. I cannot put Floris in harm's way. She is so young."

Daenys sighed, "Very well if you absolutely wish it, it would be my honour to have her at Dragonstone. I promise to do everything to keep her safe."

"You're sending me away?" Floris finally spoke.

"Yes. You have to go with the princess alright. You're not safe here at home," Cassandra replied.

"But I don't want to go. I want to stay here with you."

"Floris..."

"No! No, you can't just send me away. Was it because I fought with Ellyn? I promise I won't fight. I promise I'll mind my manners, just please don't send me away."

"I'm sorry Floris but it's the only way to keep you safe," Cassandra's heart broke at the sight of her sister's mournful expression.

"NO! Please please please, I want to stay with you."

Cassandra stood abruptly, holding back her own tears, "I will ask to have your things packed. You leave with Princess Daenys this evening. There will be no further discussion."

Daenys watched her friend leave and then turned her attention to the wailing little girl, "It won't be so bad. I promise. You'll get to ride on a dragon. And there are so many dragons on Dragonstone."

"But...but dragons are scary."

"Well, they can also be friendly. My dragon is called Silverwing and she's the loveliest creature you have ever seen. And she is always very calm. You'll like her, and she will like you."

"Are you sure?" Floris rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand, her tears slowing down.

"Yes, of course. And I have a younger brother back home who is about your age. His name is Joffrey and he has his own dragon too. It's little like him, and you. I promise you'll have lots of fun there."

"Boys are mean. What if he makes fun of me?"

"Joffrey is a sweet boy. He wouldn't do that. I'm sure the two of you will be good friends in no time," Daenys ruffled Floris's hair affectionately.

"But I will miss my sisters. How can I have fun when I'll miss home?"

"I'll bring you to visit. I promise. Every time I come back to Storm's End, I'll bring you with me. You will get many many dragon rides. Doesn't that sound nice?"

Floris sniffed morosely, "Well if I must go, you have to bring me back to see my sisters often. And you can't let your dragon eat me."

Daenys laughed then, "I promise. And my dragon doesn't eat people so you're perfectly safe."

"You also can't let your brother's dragon or any other dragon eat me either!"

"My brother's dragon is too little to eat you!"

"And the other dragons?"

"Alright Floris, I won't let any other dragon eat you either," Daenys sighed.

"Not even that giant one that the prince brought with him, the one he was going to take you away on?"

Daenys's amicable smile slipped from her face. She placed her hand on Floris's cheek and thumbed away the remaining tears.

"Especially not that one. You have my word."

_______________

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[fluffypotatey]

You know what I wish we'd seen?

More positive actively involved magic users.

Like, we know the Druids support Emrys, though they seem more like a pacifist, non-combatant party (aside from some outliers like Kara, Mordred, Alvarr), and other magic users/beings like Anhora, Grettir, Mab, they all seem to be neutral. They acknowledge Emrys as a superior power, but they don't seem to actively participate for better or worse. And all other sorcerers are usually antagonistic. But why can't we have the other side? I'm sure there has to be some who decide to take Merlin's side. Maybe they don't entirely trust Arthur, maybe they aren't too certain of a Pendragon, but dude, it's fucking Emrys. If Emrys is supporting him, there's gotta be something to him, right?

Let Merlin have people helping him, other sorcerers who slip him spells that are too powerful for them, maybe he can do something with it, passing him information about plots they've heard through the sorcerers' grapevine, even helping him thwart some of the ambushes and traps. Maybe they aren't brave enough to live in Camelot 24/7 like Merlin, but they take turns bringing him messages and supplies, and to get their "marching orders," such as they are.

Also, imagine the look on Arthur's face when he finds out he has a magic Praetorian Guard that answers to his manservant.

yeah see, that's one of the big issues that's always bothered me. like we (the audience) are told that magic is not evil but rather is something as integral as nature. but more often than not, a lot of the antagonist we meet are magic users and most of the time they are power hungry people. i mean, i totally understand the sorcerers who seek out revenge for Uther and by proxy Camelot, but we only either get these types of sorcerers or the sorcerers whom the show portrays as only evil.

it is, frankly, impossible for the magic community to be full of only evil and vengeful sorcerers. there's got to be more diversity than that, bbc 🙄 you're telling me that there are no somewhat powerful magic users living in Albion helping others anyway they can and don't seek to help aid Merlin in anyway. and i mean aid him since s1. by s5 it looked like he was actually getting some help, but they were still sorcerers who fell a little bit in the gray area or just never interacted with anyone other than Merlin.

maybe have Lancelot befriend another sorcerer while he was away from Camelot and sort of sneak him in to help save the kingdom from Morgana and Morgause in s3. maybe Elyan, who had left Camelot pre-s1, have some magic friends that we meet in s4.

tbh, my big issue is that with how much the show tells us, the audience, that magic does have positive impacts and isn't evil, none of the characters besides Gaius, Merlin, and Lancelot actually know that (as far as i'm aware). literally any time Arthur considers that maybe magic isn't what his father claimed it to be, he ends up going back to those prejudices and ideas Uther propagated because "magic killed my father," "magic killed my mother" (still super salty), "magic corrupted morgana," "magic wants me dead." when in reality, that's far from the truth, and Merlin then has to continue to hide a part of himself from people he cares for and loves dearly because all they've ever known and seen is "evil magic people."

just....bbc, explain to me how Arthur was supposed to bring the so-called "Golden Age" to Albion where there's peace between magic users and non-magic users alike if he, himself, believed magic was inherently evil???? how is Arthur the Once and Future King if he never repealed the ban on magic or began working with sorcerers? and i'm saying this as someone who loves the character, but why did we, the audience, not get a chance to really see Arthur break away from his father's prejudices on magic until the series finale?

it just bugs me. there are so many moments where it looks like maybe Merlin has an ally that's pro-magic and pro-unity and wants to help fulfill the prophecy, but then they either become one-time side characters or fucking die. never seen or heard from again. maybe i just want a character or two to stick and maybe give Merlin the support group he needs?

por favor, bbc

[ajpendragon]

Mere Words

Merlin groaned as he tried to lift his head, his vision blurry. As his sight cleared, he glanced around the small room, trying to take stock of his situation. His wrists were cuffed behind him, and his head was throbbing. The room he was in was tiny, barely wide enough for him to lay down, and the heavy wooden door was secured with a solid iron lock. He pushed himself to his feet, attempting to peer through the grate in the door, hoping to jog his memory.

He and Arthur had been…”Wait! Arthur!”He called frantically. He had been with Arthur last night, he was sure of it. No one answered his call, and he tried again. “Arthur!!” This time, footsteps answered his call, and he held his breath as they came around the corner. It was not Arthur. Instead, it was a man he had never seen before, but the look on his face told Merlin that he was not a friend. That, and the fact that he was swinging Excalibur around carelessly. “Where did you get that?” Merlin hissed. “What have you done with Arthur? If you’ve hurt him…”

The man chuckled. “It’s funny how much you care about him, since he clearly doesn’t care about you. I didn’t do anything to him.”

“I don’t believe you. Arthur wouldn’t abandon me, and he would never leave his sword behind.”

“You’re sure about that? There’s no secret you’ve been hiding? Nothing that would make Arthur leave you behind? Nothing it would destroy him to learn?” The man leered at him. “Like, for instance, that you have been lying to him since he met you? That you have magic?” Merlin gasped, reeling back and sinking to the ground as the memories came flooding back.

Arthur seeing him using magic.

Lighting a fire, what a stupid way to get caught.

The hurt and betrayal in Arthur’s eyes.

The stammered assurances that “I only use it for you, Arthur. I would never hurt you.”

The cold look on Arthur’s face as he turned away. “I just need some time to think. Give me some space.”

Turning into the woods to respect Arthur’s wish, tears streaming down his face.

The sudden blinding pain in the back of his head.

Then…Nothing.

“No.” Merlin whispered. “He wouldn’t.”

“He did. We met him dragging your unconscious body through the woods. He begged us to take you off his hands, said you were a sorcerer and would fetch us a good price if we turned you in. He also gave us this sword. Said you had given it to him, and he was pretty sure it was enchanted. He seemed so relieved when we took you. Said he didn’t want to see you ever again, that you had betrayed him. You might care about him, as much as it is possible for a sorcerer like you to care, but he quite clearly doesn’t care about you.”

The man walked away whistling, Excalibur thrown carelessly over his shoulder, leaving Merlin crying quietly behind him.

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

Merlin sobbed for hours, finally stopping when there were no more tears to cry. He curled weakly on the floor. He couldn’t believe that Arthur would leave him like that. He had known that Arthur wouldn’t be happy to learn his secret, but he had hoped that the friendship they had built would have been strong enough to weather the hurt. Obviously, Merlin cared far more than Arthur did.

Days passed. Merlin barely moved, unable to muster up the energy. His captors brought him food and water occasionally, but he didn’t touch it. Without Arthur, he didn’t care what happened to him. His whole life had been devoted to protecting him, and now that Arthur had left him, he had no purpose. He felt lost, adrift, alone.

Days drifted into weeks, and Merlin didn’t notice. He never tried to escape, which he easily could have in the beginning, but what was the point? Without Arthur, what else did he have to live for? Now he no longer had the strength to move. Most of his days were spent drifting in and out of consciousness, with the occasional break either of food arriving, and the uneaten tray being taken away, or his captor returning to gloat. It didn’t matter. The end was near, and he found himself struggling to care.

He had just managed to roll over, which was more movement than he had managed in quite a while, when he heard a commotion down the hall. He didn’t bother to move. The noises drew closer, and suddenly the door was thrown open. “Merlin!” Lancelot exclaimed. He called back over his shoulder. “He’s here. I found him.”

With careful hands, Lancelot removed the chains from Merlin’s wrists before lifting him in his arms. Merlin groaned, hanging limply in Lancelot’s hold. “Arthur knows.” He whispered, his voice hoarse after days of disuse.

”What?”

“Arthur knows. He saw me doing magic. He hates me now.”

“He doesn’t hate you, Merlin.”

“Yes he does. He knocked me out and brought me here, selling me off. He never wanted to see me again.”

“Is that what they told you? Oh, Merlin.” Lancelot’s arms tightened around him. “They were lying to you.”

“No. He even had Excalibur. Arthur left it here, and he left me. He hates me.”

Lancelot carried him out of the building. The sun was warm, and too bright after so long spent in that dark cell. The rest of the knights were gathered around the doorway. “Merlin!” Arthur exclaimed.

“No. No. NO.” Merlin curled his face into Lancelot’s chest. “I can’t. NO!” Lancelot walked away immediately, murmuring soothing nonsense until Merlin calmed.

Gwaine stepped up to prevent Arthur from following. “Give them some space. I’ll go find out what’s happening.”

Arthur paced nervously until Gwaine returned. “He’s terrified of you, Arthur. He insists you hate him, and you turned him in to these men. He’s quite determined in that idea. He won’t say why you hate him, though.”

Arthur sat down heavily. “I know why. I found out he has magic, and I didn’t react very well.” To Arthur’s shock, none of his knights seemed the least bit surprised. “You all knew?” They studiously avoided his gaze. “We can deal with THAT later. Anyways, I told him I needed some space, and he headed off into the woods. Next thing I know, I’m waking up here. They must have nabbed him from the woods, and told him I’m the one who brought him here. He’s spent weeks thinking I hated him enough to send him to his death. No wonder he’s afraid of me.”

“Well, he’s too weak to handle talking to you right now. Once he regains some strength, then you guys can talk it out.”

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

The ride back to Camelot was difficult. Arthur was in much better physical shape than Merlin. They had planned to ransom him, so they had fed him decently well. But he was so worried about Merlin that he was unable to lead the group. Leon, who had clearly hoped to cede leadership to Arthur as soon as they found him, was stuck.

Merlin was a disaster. Physically, he was unable to sit up by himself, he was so weak. Lancelot had managed to talk him into eating, but it would still take time to heal. Mentally, he was even worse off. Nothing that Gwaine or Lancelot said could convince him that Arthur didn’t actually hate him, and so he lived in terror that he was being taken to his death or exile. Every time Arthur even looked his way, he shrank back in fear.

They were traveling so slowly, it took them over a week to reach even a sight of the walls of Camelot. They had hoped to get home that night, but it was getting dark, and so they set up camp on the edge of the forest. It had been raining all day, and they were thoroughly soaked and miserable.

They all split to prepare for the night, heading all directions to gather firewood, set up tents, and find something for dinner. Except Merlin, who was left, snugly wrapped, to watch the horses. Just to watch them. He was, under no circumstances, to do anything other than watch them.

That didn’t last long. Merlin was tired of being useless. Tired of being coddled. Tired of being tired. Keeping the cloak tightly wrapped around him, he forced himself to his feet, leaning heavily against the tree behind him. He tried to take a few careful steps, and nearly collapsed, the only thing saving him another nearby tree. With a quick glance around, he ensured he was alone before raising his hand. A muttered word, and the horses’ tack removed itself, coming to rest in a neat pile at the base of the tree. Or at least that was the plan.

A soft gasp broke his concentration, sending the equipment tumbling to the ground. He spun around to see Arthur watching him. Panicking, Merlin stumbled away from Arthur, collapsing to the ground. “Arthur, I’m sorry.” He begged. “I won’t do it again. Please don’t be mad?”

Arthur reached for him, then pulled himself back. “Merlin, I need you to listen to me. I am not going to hurt you. I do not hate you.”

Merlin’s eyes filled with tears. “But you turned me in to be sent to my death.”

“They lied to you. I had nothing to do with that. I was captured at the same time as you. I thought you had gotten free, until Lancelot brought you out of the awful place. I know I did not react well the first time I saw your magic, but believe me when I say I do not hate you. I just needed some time to process, and I have had plenty of that in the past few weeks. When I actually thought about it, I realized something about all those times when things went just a little suspiciously too well. When I was knocked unconscious and woke up to you telling me I had managed to defeat the danger, even though I never remembered it. It was all you, wasn’t it?”

Merlin nodded slowly, tears still dripping down his face. “I thought you hated me.”

“I could never hate you. You have saved my life more times than I can count, at extreme risk to your own. Someday, you will have to tell me, but for now…” Arthur sank to his knees in front of Merlin, head bowed in the same way that people knelt before Arthur. “Let my thanks suffice, although mere words could never be enough thanks for all you have done for me and our kingdom.”

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

The knights watching from the woods heaved simultaneous sighs of relief. Maybe things would work out after all.

[femmeecrivain]

Hello, I wanted to say that I like your writing very much and follow it on AO3. Your writing is beautiful, I hope you find your inspiration again! "A Well-Behaved Woman" is one of my absolute favourites. In your post you mentioned prompts: AU where Draco has a change/eye opening after the slap in 3d year, after that Hermione and him become friends and exchange letters during summer hols... resulting in romantic feelings later. Thanks and take care!

(thank you, anon ❤️❤️. This is a big prompt which could easily be a long MC but I've condensed it as best I can to suit my short fic agenda. I hope that's okay.)

(also this may have deviated a leetle tiny bit from your prompt. I hope you like it anyway. It certainly lit a fire under my muse and I thank you immensely for that)

-

Read it on AO3

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It wasn't the Slap, in and of itself, that brought about his change of heart. Quite the opposite, really. Of course Muggles would resort to such crude acts of violence, his father would say, they have no other recourse since they don't have magic. Granger was simply demonstrating her inferiority. It should have reinforced everything he'd ever been told about her kind.

So it wasn't the Slap as such, no. It was more the look on her face as she'd delivered it. The glee and the disdain. Disdain for him, when it was supposed to be the other way around. He was the one who hated her. She should be grovelling at his feet, he was the Pureblood, magic was his birthright. Not hers. Never hers.

That summer Draco found himself restless, plagued by thoughts so foreign he had no idea what to make of them. Granger, that swotty annoyance he rarely thought of except as Potter's shadow or whenever he had to explain to his father why he had, yet again, failed to achieve top marks for his year—suddenly she was at the forefront of his mind. Why had he never noticed before how dark her eyes were or the way her curls caught the sunlight? She had freckles on her nose and her lips were pink—the colour of his mother's favourite roses. Horrible things happened to Draco when he thought about Granger's lips. Uncomfortable, squirmy things, like snakes slithering inside him. He began to dream about her.

The night of the Quidditch World Cup, those Muggles suspended in midair... all Draco could see was her up there, helpless in that terror and confusion, the object of ridicule from those like him. The horror of it spurred him to act, to warn her—carefully, subtly, couched in language the most dedicated Death Eater could not reproach. He knew she was clever enough to hear what he was really saying and the look in her eyes as they met his—just briefly—reassured him that she would not be foolish. It did little, though, to quell his newfound fear. 

—

“Granger.” 

The Tri-Wizard Tournament had ended. Cedric Diggory was dead. Potter was near to madness, screaming to anyone who would listen—and quite a few who wouldn’t—that Vol-that the Dark Lord had returned. Draco believed him. He knew, better than anyone else he knew what was coming. This past year he’d spent in varying states of anger and apprehension, furious with Granger for taking up so much space in his head and terrified that someday soon she might not be around to take up space anywhere. If his father had his way she wouldn’t be, and Draco—caught in a fascination that since the Yule Ball bordered on obsession—knew that he did not wish to live in a world where Granger was not.  

She turned to look at him, surprise and wariness in her eyes. “What do you want, Malfoy?” she demanded. 

Merlin, what a question. Draco knew what he wanted, deep down, though he could neither admit nor articulate it. “From you?” he sneered. “Nothing.” 

Granger rolled her eyes and turned away and desperate fear surged up in him. “Wait!” he cried, and grabbed her arm. “Wait, I—I’m sorry.” 

“You’re what?” 

“Listen, Granger.” He held on tight to her arm. “Don’t do anything stupid.” 

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “What are you on about?” 

“Potter, he’s—he’s right, okay? The Dark Lord is back.” Granger gasped and Draco’s hand tightened on her arm. “I know you’re going to want to fight him,” he pressed on, seizing the advantage of her shock. “I know that I can’t stop you. But just—don’t be stupid about it. Don’t let Potter drag you into anything rash. You have to have a plan, Granger. The Dark Lord can’t be defeated by Gryffindor bravado or the power of hope or whatever the fuck you lot believe. You have to have a strategy. You have to be prepared.” 

“Why are you telling me this?” she whispered. “Why do you care what happens to me?” 

“I shouldn’t.” He looked at her, at the curls frizzing around her face, at her deep brown eyes, at the freckles that haunted him on the bridge of her nose. She licked her lips and his gut clenched. “I should let Potter get you killed and I shouldn’t care a thing about it,” he hissed. “I should want you to die. But I don’t. Believe that, Granger.” His voice cracked. “Please. Listen to me and stay alive. Promise me.” 

She hesitated for a single, terrible moment and then she nodded. 

“I promise.” 

—

Umbridge was a cow, thought Draco, stupid and sycophantic, but people like that made such perfect patsies that he should have been in his element, basking in the glow of her favour and delighting in her blatant vendetta against Potter. There were times when he did just that, when he couldn’t help gloating at Potter’s frustration, but in the back of his mind and the corner of his eye there was always her, always there at Potter’s side, helping him and having his back and hating him. 

Though sometimes Draco caught her watching him, in class or from across the library. A speculative, probing look, like she was trying to work out what made him tick. Like she might not believe the image he presented on his surface. 

She should believe it, he thought viciously, it was mostly true. And for the bits of it that weren’t he couldn’t let her see them, however much he wished he could. The Dark Lord was on the rise and nothing could stop his ascent. Draco’s image, his reputation, his family, were all the leverage he would ever have to keep her safe. And so he sneered and mocked and called her Mudblood, joined the Inquisitorial Squad and did his very best to keep Potter down. By the end of the year there was no more speculation in Granger’s eyes, no check at all upon her hatred of him. Draco took the pain of that and buried it deep, along with every other feeling that he held for her, behind Occlumency walls more tall and strong than even the Dark Lord himself could begin to fathom. 

—

He wrote to her, that summer. Letters he would never send, not even if he could. Not even if the Dark Lord weren’t there, in his home. Not even if he didn’t now bear the mark on his arm that would forever hold them separate, on opposite sides of an impossible divide.

On parchment he could be honest. For the first time in his life he could express the things he truly felt and thought and wanted. He kept the letters with him at all times, spelled to look like schoolwork. The Dark Lord had little interest in his studies and Draco’s Occlumency by then was more than strong enough to safeguard his secrets. 

Hogwarts that year was torture. The spectre of the Dark Lord’s expectations always on his heels, Potter dogging his every move with suspicious eyes. Granger, grown curvier over the summer, filled out in places he only dared to think about alone in his bed, protected by a fortress of Silencios. He continued to write her letters, every day, half-mad confessions and lustful fantasies, pleas and promises and bursts of vicious anger. Hidden in plain sight, they were both his guilty pleasure and his deepest shame. 

“Watch where you’re going, Mudblood,” he spat one afternoon in November, when Granger came charging out of a classroom door at full speed, barrelling straight into him and sending his schoolbooks flying. 

“Sorry!” she cried, as she scrambled to gather up the dropped books and scattered parchments. “I’m so sor-oh. It’s you.” 

Ridiculous to feel hurt by the way her eyes shuttered when she spotted him, thought Draco. Stupid. He slammed his walls into place and let a sneer curl his lip as he snatched his things away from her. 

“So clumsy,” he snarled. “Graceless. Typical Mudblood, I suppose. You’ll fall right into the Dark Lord’s lap at this rate.” 

She rounded on him, but rather than snap out a retort as he expected she shoved him back against the wall. “Don’t use that term,” she hissed. “Say ‘You-Know-Who’ like everyone else. Harry’s already suspicious of you, if he hears you say that—”

She was so close, too close. She smelled like ink and parchment and something delicately floral he couldn’t put a name to. He wanted to lean in closer, identify its source. Drown in it, until everything else in his life faded away and there was nothing left but her. 

Instead he shoved her away. “Potter should be suspicious,” he snapped. “Sounds like he’s finally showing some sense. You should do the same.” With one final, scorching look he turned and stalked away, before she could reply or return the several of his parchments still clutched in her hands. 

The next day Granger found him in the library. She sat across from him at his lonely table and slapped some parchments down between them. 

“Is this true?” she demanded. 

Draco felt his heart stop. “Is what true?” 

“This.” She tapped her finger on a parchment. One of his letters to her, all concealment spells removed. “Does You-Know-Who really expect you to kill Dumbledore?” 

“Yes.” He clenched his jaw tightly, wishing he could lie, but the truth came out as though wrenched from the depths of him, drawn inexorably by the look in Granger’s eyes. That speculation, now back again and more certain than before. “By the end of the year or else he kills my mother.” 

“Oh Malfoy,” she breathed, and he squeezed his eyes shut so he couldn’t see the pity in hers. He did not want her pity. “You have to tell him.” 

“Who?” 

“Dumbledore.” 

He scoffed. “Confess to attempted murder, to the intended victim? I thought you were supposed to be clever, Granger.” 

“This is an impossible task,” she retorted crisply. “You’re being set up to fail. And you have access to information. Valuable information, Malfoy.” 

He opened his eyes to find her watching him shrewdly. “Strategy, remember. Your advice. Dumbledore can offer you protection, and he will. For a price, but one which you can easily pay. What have you got to lose?” 

She stood as if to go but left his parchments where they lay, strewn before him on the table. “Granger,” he rasped, and she paused. “How—how much of this did you read?” 

“All of it.” 

—

 He wrote her daily over Christmas break but now he sent the letters, information buried deep in coded language and addressed simply to ‘My Love.’ The Dark Lord found this greatly amusing and missed no opportunity to taunt him for his ‘little crush,’ but Draco held his thoughts of Granger deep within the Occluded recesses of his mind and withstood every barb of mockery, every dagger of derision meant to weaken him. Nothing the Dark Lord said could hurt him anymore, not now he was no longer so terribly alone. 

He went dark completely that night on the Astronomy tower, after he killed Dumbledore, just as they had planned. Of the four people who knew the full extent of this ruse, now only three remained. Snape fled to the Order to denounce Draco as a traitor, while Draco returned to the Dark Lord, triumphant, his mother now safe and his family’s favour secured. 

“Harry’s furious,” Granger wrote to him that night, in their code. “Says we never should have trusted you. Claims he never did, which to be honest is probably true. It’s worked.”  

It had worked and he was in, under cover so deep he half believed it himself. Then Granger was off on her fool’s quest for Horcruxes and Draco left trapped in a prison of his own design, the Dark Lord’s trusted lieutenant and a full-blown traitor to his cause. He no longer knew who he was anymore, so deeply buried was his own identity, his true thoughts and feelings and desires. All that kept him sane were Granger’s letters, the slow progress she was making, and the small things—hints, tips, clues—he was sometimes able to provide for her. 

It was almost enough. Until that terrible day when it wasn’t, when nothing was or could be again. When she lay on his drawing room floor, screaming beneath Bellatrix’s curse and Draco knew, deep in his bones, that all his efforts had been in vain. Everything he’d done to keep her protected, alive, all of it would fail right here before his eyes. Bella would kill her and there was nothing he could do to stop it, not a single option lay open to him and yet he needed to try. Like that long-ago night with the Muggles in the air, the horror of a threat to Granger shattered Draco’s sense of self-preservation and spurred him into action. His hand twitched towards his wand and then—

“Don’t.” Hermione’s thoughts pressed into his mind. “Don’t do it, Draco. Whatever you’re thinking, don’t. I can survive this. I can—” She screamed again. 

“You��re sure that’s Potter with her?” Bellatrix demanded. “We don’t call the Dark Lord unless we’re sure.” 

Draco held himself rigid, disdain in every feature. “Of course it’s him,” he sneered. “He never goes anywhere without this Mudblood and the Weasel in tow. Call the Dark Lord now, or I will, and when I tell him of your cowardice I will not mince my words.” 

Bellatrix reached for her Mark. 

The chandelier fell. 

—

“Draco!” 

He heard her voice through the shouts and screams and confusion of spells and turned to see her running towards him, face smudged and hair wild, clothes worn and torn and filthy. She stopped about a foot away and stood there hesitantly as his desperate eyes drank in the sight of her. 

“Hermione.” His voice was rough. “Are you—you’re—”

“I’m fine.” She stepped closer. “I must look a fright but I’m not hurt.” 

“You look beautiful.” 

He should have blushed, probably, to be so blunt and forward about it, but they were in the midst of a fucking battlefield and it wasn’t as though she didn’t know how he felt. She’d read his letters, all of them, even the ones he never meant for anyone to see. 

“How are you?” she whispered. “After the Manor I didn’t hear from you—”

“It’s been all I could do to stay alive.” The Dark Lord’s fury at Potter’s escape had brought consequences down even upon him. “I didn’t dare risk it.” Risk you. 

She nodded, swallowed, licked her lips. She opened her mouth to speak and then, from the corner of his eye, Draco saw him. Dolohov, wand drawn and aimed straight at Hermione, the killing curse on his lips. 

So this was it, Draco thought. This was how he died. A fitting end, really. His life for hers. How it should be. He had no regrets. 

He swept Hermione up in his arms and cradled her there, pressed his face into her hair and spun them round so that his back would take the impact of the curse. “I’m sorry, love,” he whispered as the moment seemed to stretch and draw out just enough for him to register how right she felt pressed tight against him, before the curse struck and the world went black. 

—

He awoke shrouded in softness, fluffy and white as a cloud. 

I’m dead, then, he thought. Good. Then he fully opened his eyes. 

He lay in a bed in a stark hospital suite, with Harry Potter in a chair beside him. 

“I must be dead,” he croaked. “Because this is surely Hell.” 

Potter’s lips smiled but his eyes were hard. “You’re very much alive, Malfoy. Something I’m told we should be grateful for.” 

“Oh?” 

“Hermione insists you were on our side all along. Snape’s memories confirm this.” 

Draco frowned then immediately regretted it, as pain lanced viciously through his head. “His... memories?” 

“He’s dead.” Potter looked grimly regretful. “He left me some memories before he passed. About Dumbledore, mostly, but also about you. How Dumbledore was dying already when you killed him, and about your plan. And some other things too which are none of your business.” 

“Fair.” Draco attempted to sit up but the stabbing in his head would not permit it. 

“Potter,” he asked instead, “why am I alive? Dolohov, he—” 

“He was going to kill Hermione,” Potter finished for him. “He aimed Avada at her but you blocked it with your body. She managed to get a shielding spell off above your head but it only covered part of you. The Killing Curse glanced off your ribs. Not direct enough to kill you but it did knock you out.” He smiled again, a wry twitch of the lips. “You missed your Dark Lord’s death.” 

“Not my lord,” said Draco sharply. “Never my—”

“I know.” Potter made a decisive slicing motion in the air with his hand. “I know.” 

Draco relaxed back into the pillows and let his eyes fall shut. His head felt like it was splitting open. “And… Hermione?” he managed, though the pain. “Is she—” 

“She’s fine. She wants to see you. I made her wait until I could speak to you first.”

He opened his eyes a crack. “She won’t be happy. Having to wait.” 

“And that will be your problem, not mine.” 

“Bloody typical of you, Potter,” Draco wheezed. “Always passing blame.”  

This time, Potter’s smile was almost warm. “I’ll let her in now,” he said. “And Malfoy?” He paused until Draco met his eyes. “Thank you. For everything.” 

—

The castle was no longer the same. It never could be, Draco supposed, despite the thorough, painstaking repairs that had been done to it. He had personally donated a hefty portion of the Malfoy vaults to ensure that the repairs would be of the highest possible quality, and indeed they were. But it still wasn’t the same. Too many ghosts still lingered within its walls, of too many good people struck down far too young. 

And yet, thought Draco, as he strolled into the library and took a chair next to where Hermione was already sat, scribbling away at their Advanced Potions assignment, not everything that had changed was bad. 

“Draco, I’m just not sure about this use of lacewing here—” she began without even looking up, but before she could finish he hooked his foot through the rung of her chair and spun it round, sank his hand into her curls and leaned in to press his lips to hers. 

“The lacewing is fine,” he said a moment later, still close enough that he could feel her breath on his cheek. “It helps soften the effect of the powdered dragon’s tooth and makes the potion less volatile.” 

“But if we—” He kissed her again. 

Gently, he eased her forward and onto his lap, where he could grip her thigh with one hand as the other lost itself in her hair. She melted into him with a soft sigh as the kiss deepened and Draco began to wonder if he might tick off yet another box on his list of Granger fantasies finally unlocked. 

“Mr Malfoy!” Madam Pince’s shrill voice put paid to any slim hope he’d had of getting into Hermione’s knickers in the library. At least for now. “Miss Granger! This is the library!” 

Hermione pushed away from Draco and scrambled to her feet. Her face was scarlet. “Madam Pince,” she cried. “I’m so—I don’t know what I—we just got carried away—”

“I should say you did!” Madam Pince’s lips pursed so tightly they were nearly invisible. “These tables are for studying and nothing more! If you cannot restrict your activities to the academic, might I suggest you find another place to go!” 

“A fine idea.” Draco stood and took Hermione’s hand. With a wave of his wand, he packed her books and notes tidily away into her bag. “Let’s take a walk.” 

“But the potion—” 

“Isn’t due until next week. Come on, Granger.” 

She huffed indignantly but took her bag and allowed him to lead her from the library, hand-in-hand. 

—

Later, they lay twined together in her bed in the eighth-year dormitory, still panting and damp from their recent non-academic activities. Draco traced the contours of her nose and cheek and lips with the tips of his fingers, still astounded that she permitted him this liberty and so very many others. From the nightmare he’d been living these past few years he had emerged, somehow, into a dream. A brilliant, impossible dream in which Hermione was his, her own woman but his to love. A dream in which she loved him too. 

“It was all those letters,” she’d said when he asked her why, how she could possibly care for him. “The ones you didn’t mean for me to see and then the later ones, when you were spying and in constant danger but still always made sure to ask me how I was. You were so brave in such awful circumstances and you changed all of your beliefs, you fought against your own people all because—” 

“Because I wanted to fuck you?” 

She flushed prettily. “Maybe at first that was the reason. But you changed yourself, fundamentally, and not just because of that.” 

“No, not just.” He frowned as he looked back, trying to pinpoint the moment his mind had begun to shift. “I spent so much time watching you and thinking about you and noticing, because it was impossible not to notice, how good you are at magic. How good you just are, as a person. And everyone on my side—Umbridge, people like Dolohov, Voldemort himself—they couldn’t come close to you. Not even close enough to lick your boots. And I thought, if Muggle-borns can be like she is while Purebloods are like us, then something’s not right with what I’ve been taught.”

“I hope you know how remarkable that is, Draco,” she said softly as she reached up to brush a lock of hair back from his forehead. “It takes a lot of strength to break away from what you’ve been raised to believe. A lot of courage.” 

“You inspired me.” 

“Maybe. But you did the work yourself.” She smiled then, a small, curious smile. “What was it that started it? There was a time you genuinely hated me, I think.” 

“There absolutely was.” 

“So what changed? Was it something I did, or—what? What is it?” 

Draco was laughing, a wild and carefree laugh only slightly tinged with mania. “You slapped me,” he said.  

“I slapped you?”  

“Yes, remember? The end of third year?” 

“I remember, but—that was the reason?” 

“That was it.” 

She stared at him, mouth agape. “Draco Malfoy, you—you couldn’t possibly—is this some sort of fetish? Are you going to want me to slap you again?” 

“Bit late now, the damage is done.”

She gaped at him for another moment then she too began to laugh. “I suppose you could say I literally slapped some sense into you,” she gasped, and they both dissolved once more into peals of mirth. 

“I’m not sorry, you know,” she informed him, once the paroxysms had passed. “You deserved that slap.” 

“Yes I did.” 

“And,” she continued, leaning in to brush his nose gently with her own, “you deserve everything you have now because of it.”

Draco swallowed hard, stroked her cheek, kissed her lips. Those soft, pink lips that he could now think about with pleasure only and not a hint of pain. The sunlight caught in her hair and danced across her freckles, and her deep, brown eyes were warm. “I think I finally believe that,” he whispered. 

She smiled at him, for him. Only him. 

“Good.” 

—

[weakforarwen]

The Changeling is such a feel-good episode. Bradley was really great in this one.

I'm still sad that Elena became the typical princess in the end. She was still not as fairytale like as Mithian, but why in the world did the Sidhe manifest itself like that in Elena? Also, did Merlin really get away with killing the Sidhe leader? No repercussions, really?

I wanted more episodes with Elena. She's one of my favorite minor characters. I hope she married for love - to someone who liked to compete with her in horse-riding and didn't feel sore about losing to a woman - and lived happily ever after.

Grunhilda: And what does that mean, anyway, "Perfect princess"? Sounds perfectly boring. You've got spirit, child. If Arthur's got half a brain, he'll recognise that.

Sorry, Elena. He really doesn't have half a brain.

I wonder why they wrote Elena like that? Was it to make it easier for Arthur to reject her? Gwen, by comparison, was a lot more graceful, well-mannered, and princess-like than the actual princess. She was also more conventionally feminine. She didn't sword fight, wasn't a competitive horse-rider, didn't trip and embarrass herself, etc. Even Mithian, the perfect princess, was a better hunter than Arthur which bruised his ego a bit. Both Elena and Mithian had something typically masculine that they were better at than Arthur, which hurt his pride a bit, while Gwen was a seamstress... She was also a blacksmith's daughter, though, and was able to start a fire when Arthur couldn't, in The Castle of Fyrien. That had bothered Arthur a tad too.

I think it's pretty monumental how Arthur defied his father. Everyone had been expecting him to marry Elena. Gwen certainly hadn't believed Arthur would go against Uther. She hadn't believed they had a future and Morgana had convinced her of it even more. If Morgana, who in the past would've supported Arthur marrying for love, hadn't thought Gwen and Arthur stood a chance, then Gwen probably thought they didn't.

Poor Arthur looked so sad the whole episode. I liked that he first asked Gwen for permission to marry Elena. I think he might not have even proposed to Elena had Gwen believed in their future. He usually counted on her to tell him to follow his heart. As it was, it was up to Merlin, but Merlin only told Arthur what he wanted to hear. It was the same with Mithian. Arthur didn't ask Merlin if he should've broken up with Gwen in His Father's Son, or if he did the right thing banishing Gwen. He had already known what Merlin would say. But he talked to Merlin when he wished to back off of his wedding to both Elena and Mithian and take Gwen back. He knew Merlin would tell him to marry for love. Arthur wanted the opinion of someone normal, who didn't care about old-fashioned family traditions and alliances, who would probably have more romantic views on marriage. Even the word of a "clueless servant" would've been enough to validate Arthur's feelings.

One of the things I love the most about Arthur and Gwen is that Arthur constantly shattered my expectations of him. Arthur's number one trait had always been that he loved Camelot above all else. Yet, Gwen proved that wasn't necessarily true. He wasn't just some idyllic Prince or King who lived for his people. He was a man. He wanted love and companionship, and would do foolish, selfish things for the woman he loved. He would leave Camelot for her, embarrass himself and his father, give up on his lands, put her before Camelot if needed.

I adore this about them. I never thought King Arthur would be a romantic, and no one else had either. Gwen couldn't comprehend the extent of his devotion and how he gave it so freely. It had initially surprised Merlin in Lancelot and Guinevere, and it surprised even Morgana in Queen of Hearts. Arthur himself likely didn't know how far he would go for Gwen. All he had known was to give everything of himself to Camelot. He hadn't expected to do the same for Gwen. He didn't even agreed to it. It was bigger than him.

Arthur never truly had to put Gwen before Camelot, but knowing there was a scenario in which he could've faltered and chosen Gwen over his destiny really should change how anyone sees Arthur. The Once and Future King couldn't exist without his Once and Future Queen. He couldn't exist without Merlin either, but we're talking about choices Arthur made. Marrying Gwen was the first choice he truly made as King, before he was even crowned.

Anyway, I truly feel like people overlook how Arthur's love for Gwen wasn't just "romantic" or showed he was different from Uther. It had the potential to completely alter Arthur's destiny as surely as Merlin, Morgana, or Mordred had. Death didn't stop Arthur from becoming The Once and Future King, but Gwen's death, for example, might've. It's so hard to express how I think that Gwen undermined the basic premise of his character.

Also, unrelated, but Morgana was so thrilled to ruin Arthur's wedding. I thought she would want him to marry Elena and be miserable, but perhaps she wanted Uther to lose his shit even more?

[random-yandere-fandom]

Hi 💕. Can I ask about Ciel, Meliodas and L with pregnant darling 👉👈. (Everything you write is amazing!)

Thank you!🥰 I hope you like it!

Btw. Tumblr had a new update or something and writing with it is different now and I despise it. For some godforsaken reason it won`t let me add any gifs on my laptop, I`ll try again later on my phone. Alright, it at least works on my phone. Sorry, just had to rant about it.

Yandere Ciel with a pregnant darling

To say he is worried is an understatement. There are so many factors that endanger the child`s life that frustrate him to no end. First, Ciel doesn`t know for certain how much time he has left and if he would be a good father. Second, he is constantly targeted so from now on you`re only allowed outside in the garden when at least two servants, Sebastian or himself are with you. Even then the Phantomhive is anxious, but your health is more important now. 

On that note, Ciel is thinking about assigning you your own personal doctor, the best of the best. He believes that having Sebastian around isn`t enough this time, especially since the demon has other matters to attend to. He`ll search for someone trustworthy and competent and with his abilities he`ll find the right person.

All servants are told to protect you even more than before and to get you anything you wish for. At least one of them is always near you. Tanaka makes you calming tea, Baldroy tries to make anything you might be craving, Finny tries to fill the garden in front of your window with beautiful flowers and birds, while Mey-Rin tries her best to keep everything around you clean and neat and Sebastian takes care of the mess those three make. 

After getting over most of his paranoia Ciel will spend entire days around you, moving his workload to wherever you want to be. He studies about pregnancy and childcare in his free time, informing you about anything he deems as important. He`ll be there for you when you have morning sickness and through anything else that might come. The closer the due date gets, the more excited and anxious he will become.   

Yandere Meliodas with a pregnant darling

He`s a lot more cheerful, wanting to celebrate as soon as you tell him the news. Meliodas will want to invite everyone in the whole kingdom, that`s how excited he is but after being told that stress is not good for you, he`ll settle for the other sins and their partners. Another fact that plays apart of that decision is his possessiveness and protectiveness, after calming down a bit he`ll start to worry, too. 

The party will be without much alcohol, something very unusual, but Meliodas can`t stand the thought of you or the child being harmed in any way, be that through someone else in their drunken stupor or through glasses getting accidentally switched and you consuming some. Everyone except for you will get exactly one glass and that`s it.

The demon might have noticed your pregnancy before thanks to his perceptiveness if he wasn`t so clueless about it. While the thought of a mini you running around has crossed his mind and he liked it, that was as far as it got. Now though, he will make his research, specially about hybrids if you aren`t a demon. To ensure both the health of both of you, Merlin will regularly check up on your body, carefully using magic as to not harm either of you.

It won`t look like it, but Meliodas is far more alert than normal, covering it up with his normal humor. Any threat will be taken care of discretely and quickly, you`ll barely notice that Meliodas was gone.

All in all though he`s the most excited, he`ll lay his head on your belly every so often and the day he feels a kick for the first time he`ll be grinning for hours, exclaiming how your child will surely be a good fighter with such an amazing attack. Meliodas will talk proudly about his kid to anyone who might listen and won`t stop for a long time. He`s impatient when waiting for them to be born but he`ll be even more gentle with you than ever before, listening to most of your requests with no complaints.   

Yandere L with a pregnant darling

L will notice your symptoms and put two and two together before anyone else. He will suggest to test it right away, being quite blunt about it. When his theory is proven right his reaction will be more subtle than anyone else`s, but for you it`s noticeable from the start. 

While it seems there isn`t much emotionally going on inside his head, his actions tell otherwise. He`ll have a house prepared, somewhere further away from civilisation but safe, maybe next to a lake if that`s what you like. In the end it`s important to him that you can get fresh air whenever you need it and he`ll make doing his job there work somehow. Even though it seems like you two are alone, there will be high security and a doctor on stand by some kilometres away. 

L knows that this can be scary for you, so he tries his best to be there for you and comfort you, any doubts you might have will be erased through his irrefutable logic and assurance. Watari will be ordered to buy anything you want and get you some books on pregnancy so that you can inform yourself.

Fascination is the best way to describe how L reacts, he will be enchanted, occasionally glancing at you and your belly even though he should be working. His head is full with ideas of possible names and stuff he has to get that it`s hard for him to concentrate. You`ll also notice that he will become more and more clingy as time progresses, he`s a fan of touching your belly and talking to it, hoping that the child reacts in some way. 

[fandomlovingfreak]

Glacial Passion (6/?)

Regulus Black/Reader

Rating: SFW, T+, NO LEMON

Trigger Warning: Arranged Marriage

Word Count: 1991

MasterList Link I AO3 Link I Wattpad Link

Summary: Glacial, cold, icy… all words that described Regulus Black’s grey eyes. Was there truly no emotion behind those eyes, or did a caring man exist beneath? Could she defrost those glacial eyes?

Disclaimer: Regulus Black (Walburga Black, Orion Black, and Sirius Black) is a character from Harry Potter by J.K. Rowling. Reader or y/n is not owned by Rowling. This work has not been created for profit or financial compensation, and is a transformative fair use work in accordance with Section 107 of the United States Copyright Act.

Notes: No real notes today! I hope you enjoy. This story took a “lighter tone” than I expected (at least I hadn’t expected it to, maybe you did ! aha!) but I actually like writing happier stories so I guess my brain just went “cowabummer bro, you’re writing some happy fiction even if you didn’t want to”

Enjoy

***

"Where are we going?" (y/n) asks. 

Regulus felt a bit relieved that (y/n) agreed to come along on his little surprise trip. After last night, which he now realized was a complete mistake, he wasn't sure that his wife would willingly agree to go out in public with him. Especially if he promised some sort of surprise.

She hadn't asked him any questions until they were walking outside, her arm tucked nicely within his. Like it was meant to be there.

"If I told you, it would ruin the surprise." Regulus glances over at his wife. She's got a deep frown on her face. It doesn't exactly mar her beautiful face, but it reminds him a bit too much of his mother's annoyed expression. "Just trust me."

Her little huff of annoyance he decides is enough of a response.

Regulus tries to think of Sirius's advice. Get to know (y/n), even the small things he personally thought were unnecessary to know about a person-- moot things about her. And in turn, be vulnerable enough to share small things back.

"So-- uh, (y/n)."

"Yes?" she looks at him with confusion in her eyes.

"I thought we ought to try and start fresh."

"Fresh?"

"I don't know how else to move from here if we don't have a clean slate."

"I hardly think that would work."

Merlin-- "(y/n)," he stops, halting her as well, "I said I would try to give you what you want. If you shut me down, there's no chance I can."

She gives him a look, "Regulus--"

"Listen," he inhales, collecting himself, "I'm not good at this. You'll have to be patient with me, but I'm willing to figure this out. And I probably won't--" He pauses, "I probably will mess up, a lot. But, please. Give me a chance."

(y/n) studies his face, "Okay."

"Okay?"

"I understand that I'm asking you to step outside of your comfort zone, and I appreciate that you're being open with me."

Regulus smiles, muttering, "Sirius was right." Under his breath.

"What?" (y/n) asks.

"Nothing." Regulus takes her hand in his, "this can be like our first date."

(y/n) smiles, amused, "this is silly--"

"I was serious last night that I will try."

"No pretending. You swear you will not pretend with me?"

"That's why I am asking that we start fresh. Give me a chance. I'm not good at this-- relationships. I need time and patience."

She seems to contemplate his words, "Okay. But--"

"Yes?"

(y/n) looks down at her feet for a moment before looking at him again, "If we're going to-- start over, it needs to be slower."

"Slower?" He frowns. What the devil is she talking about, slower?

"I mean," (y/n) purses her lips, "I mean that it has to feel like we're actually starting a new relationship."

Regulus chuckles, "you want me to court you?"

(y/n) smiles, "if those are the words you think describes what we are trying to do, then yes. I think I would like you to court me."

Now he feels silly making the suggestion because he has no idea what courting entails. He can barely flirt!

"I mean-- I can try."

(y/n) grins. He's at a loss for words. Not once in the time he's known her-- been married to her, has he seen her look this happy. Clearly, Sirius's advice was half-decent. For the first time since (y/n) walked down the aisle towards him, he felt something. Hopefully, the beginning of something great between them.

***

"You brought me to— the Eiffel tower?" (Y/n) looks up towards the cloudy sky.

Regulus flushes, "It's not just the Eiffel Tower."

(Y/n) laughs, "it looks like it's just the Eiffel Tower—"

"Just—"Regulus lets out a frustrated sound, "it's more than that." He pulls her towards one of the legs of the metal tower. He supposes that enough muggles are wandering around that they wouldn't notice the disappearance of the young couple. He pulls his wand out of thin air, tapping where the witch at the hotel told him to. The metal of the tower seems to melt and twist, magically revealing an entrance.

"What—"(y/n) grips his hand tighter, "I had no idea."

"Neither did I. It's called Caché à la Vue," Regulus grins, "c'mon, Mrs. Black."

They walk through the entrance, the metal contorting back into shape behind them.

In front of them, a bustling street moves around them. Wizards and Witches bustle around carrying cauldrons, brooms, and colorful bags holding other wizarding tools. A group of young girls rushes by, giggling in their blue Beauxbaton school uniforms. 

"Oh— it feels like Diagon Alley," (y/n) comments as she steps closer to him, her shoulder bumping his arm as she squeezes his hand.

Regulus nods, keeping her close as they walk further into the crowd.

"I didn't expect it to be like this," he glances at (y/n). She's looking around with interest at the many shops and people. 

"Let's go in here," she's pulling him towards a shop that smells of lavender and sage. The shop is small but comforting with its earthy color scheme and almost luminescent glow. 

"Oh wow," (y/n) detaches herself from him for the first time since crossing into Caché à la Vue. Regulus watches her poke around the shop, always keeping a two-foot distance from her.

(y/n) seems to notice the hovering, "Why are you-- being so weird?" She's got an amused smile on her face. Regulus tries to relax, stepping a foot closer.

"I'm just giving you space."

"Don't you want to look too?" (y/n) beckons him closer, reaching for his hand. He obliges his wife, letting her point out small trinkets and items. 

***

The busy street of Caché à la Vue frames Regulus as I sit across from him. Once we had explored nearly every shop on the busy street, Regulus had tugged me towards one of the little Bistros, mumbling about it being a recommendation or something of that sort. I didn't fight his insistence to stop and eat. I hadn't had much for breakfast or lunch back at the hotel.

The afternoon hadn't been awful. In fact, I was enjoying myself more than I expected. It only partly-- honestly, completely, had to do with the sudden changes in how Regulus and I interacted. He suddenly was more sociable and curious about who I was. Which was sort of confusing, but at this moment, I felt more confident in our marriage. That maybe we did have a chance to fall in love, or even just co-exist happily together. If co-existing was all that could come from this, then I wished it to be at least a peaceful union.

Yet, I want to know him as much as he seems to suddenly want to know me, so I ask questions about his childhood and his life. At first, he seems reserved to answer some of my inquiries, making me more curious about the information he is holding back from me. 

"So--" I set down my teacup, "how was it like growing up in Grimmauld Place?"

This seems to be another question he hesitates over as he stares down at his plate for a full thirty seconds, making me nervous.

"Do you want the truth?"

I stiffen. The tone of his voice has me wondering if it was a good question to ask after all, "I would if you don't mind answering."

Regulus takes another moment to collect his thoughts, "I don't really remember much before going to school. My parents are-- you can probably tell they are not the friendliest of people." The understatement of the century. "They weren't good parents, if I'm being honest."

"What do you mean?" I suddenly feel uncomfortable as I continue down this path.

"(y/n), maybe this isn't a conversation for public." Merlin, that only makes me want to press for more information, but the look on his face tells me all I need to know at this moment. He will tell me the truth, but if he's more comfortable doing so behind closed doors, who am I to push him for an answer right now?

"Is it that bad?" I do feel a bit sick over how he's reacting to this question.

He looks down at his hands before looking back at me. His eyes are back to the icy grey I know so well. "It's not great." I have to look away from his eyes. "Do you know I have an older brother?"

"But--" Regulus is the Heir? How could he have--?

"Sirius was disowned when he was sixteen, effectively passing the burden of the House of Black to me."

"Do you still-- are you still in contact with him--Sirius?"

"I am, but privately. Walburga wouldn't approve. She likes to think that Sirius never existed in the first place."

"That's horrible!" I couldn't imagine pretending one's child never existed-- "what did Sirius do?"

"He ran away after refusing-- well refusing to do what we have done, I suppose." I stare at Regulus, shocked.

"I mean, he didn't-- doesn't believe in the Pureblood idealogy."

I pause, reflecting for a moment on his words. Is he saying Sirius ran away when his parents tried to make a match between himself and some Pureblood girl?

"Are you saying he ran away from an arranged marriage?" Regulus nods.

Merlin's-- He was only sixteen? "Your parents, they really tried to-- he was so young--?"

Regulus nods, "Too young, I know." Not that I felt the ages we were are any more acceptable, but sixteen? He would've been in the middle of school! Just a kid!

"I can't blame him for running away--" I let the words slip without thinking, quickly feeling guilty for saying such a thing to the man I'm married to. The man I married for the same reason his brother left the exclusive circle we exist within. "No offense, of course--" 

Instead of looking offended or getting angry, how I expect, Regulus laughs. A real genuine laugh.

"It's not that funny, Regulus!" The words had just slipped out of my mouth before my brain processed my rudeness.

"You are exactly like Sirius. It's freakish." He grins.

"What does that mean?" I'm hopeful he's complimenting me.

Regulus takes my hand in his over the table, "You just remind me of him. Both of you are unapologetically yourselves. I envy that."

I want to tell him I'm nothing like his brother. Sirius was able to leave the life we grew up in. I clearly didn't have the balls to leave. But, I don't want to say that, not when we're getting along so well right now. 

"You can be unapologetically yourself, Regulus."

His smile is small as he looks down at our intertwined fingers, "I'm afraid I can't be. At least not publically."

"I can't exactly be publically myself either, especially now, but maybe in private, yeah? When it's just us."

He gently lifts my hand up to tenderly press a kiss to my knuckles. My breath hitches at the suddenness of his actions, and I feel suddenly warm. "When it's just us." His agreement, the tone of his voice when he agrees-- it's incredibly intimate.

Dumbly, I nod. Regulus smiles, kindness reaching his eyes and thawing out the ice they held earlier.

After a beat of silence, one I could not find words to fill, Regulus speaks. "Was there anything else you wanted to see?"

I find my voice, at last, saying I did not believe so. 

***

I felt delirious with desire watching her squirm after my lips left her knuckles. 

Something about (y/n) fascinated me and made me want her, all of her. I knew she felt the same way, even after the way our relationship started. I could tell by the way her lips parted and her breath hitched that she felt that spark between us. 

That spark gave me some hope that everything was going to turn out just fine.

[adorerdraco]

Good Enough ✧ Draco x Hufflepuff!Reader

Request: hiii i love your writing!! can you write about a sweet hufflepuff and how everyone thinks they aren’t a good pair together so one day Pansy bullies the reader into breaking it off with Draco because she feels like she’s not good enough for him then draco finds out and he’s really mad at Pansy?

Another seventh year AU where Voldermort never existed !

Warnings: bullying, slight angst, crying, cursing (barely), sad!draco, angry!draco, implied smut towards the end (also extra mean slytherins for the purpose of this imagine but i have nothing against them i <3 them as much as any other house)

Words: 4.5K

A/N: hiii thank youuuu 🥺💗 !!!!!! but ahhhh omg im a hufflepuff so i hope i delivered good hufflepuff energy in this oneee :’))) i think this might be my new favorite thing ive written omg but i do not own gif 

There was truly no explanation how you, a kind Hufflepuff, managed to become friends, let alone a couple, with the proud and arrogant Slytherin Prince, Draco Malfoy. 

On the outside, your relationship to everyone seemed uncanny and plain wrong. Even your friends and housemates had looked down on it for a while but eventually came around and just let you be. You couldn’t say the same for the Slytherin’s, however, because if there was one house they disliked more than Gryffindor; it was Hufflepuff.

They berated you and Draco for weeks after they found out he had started a relationship with you. They scowled at you when you would walk by them sometimes calling you names depending on whether or not Draco was by your side. He always defended you and you did your best to ignore them, but they were relentless. You had only been dating for about a month now and the tantalizing comments from Slytherin’s and anyone else who wanted tear the two of you down were right now seeming endless.

“Why can’t people leave us alone,” you said sadly to him one night. You were lying with him in a patch of grass outside the castle, head against his chest as his hand lazily traced patterns onto your bicep.

“They’re only jealous,” he sneered quietly. “People get mad at what they can’t have or what they can't understand.”

Draco’s patience with people was worsening each and every day. His housemates, regularly, would corner him in the common room and interrogate him with questions that made him want to rip his hair out.

“Is this some sort of prank you haven’t told us about, Malfoy?”

“A Hufflepuff? Have you gone mad?”

“Is she blackmailing you with something, mate?”

“Haven’t you thought about how that makes us Slytherin’s look?”

“She’s a blood-traitor!”

The questioning would always lead to him yelling and threatening everyone aggressively before he locked himself in his Prefect dorm or would leave the common room altogether in a fury. Those were the days he would find you after he calmed down and would hug you tightly, pressing kisses all over your face as he praised you with everything he adored about you to how happy you made him and how perfect you were for him. 

You, on the other hand, were dealing with much worse. You never told Draco some of the awful things people would say to you when he wasn’t around. You would stand up for yourself very rarely, confrontation not really being your first approach to handling things but when the insults were bad enough, you were forced to.

You would always hear a variation of the same things said either directly to you or from obvious whispering, majority of them being from Slytherin and the occasional judgmental comment from others.

“Filthy Hufflepuff!”

“Can’t believe one of them is dating one of ours.”

“What does Malfoy even see in her?”

“You’d think someone who’s supposed to be kind wouldn’t want anything to do with such an arse.”

More than ever, Draco found himself giving you an excessive amount of compliments and reassurances that he thought would balance out the insults and criticisms you would tell him about or he would witness. Everything he would tell you was true, of course, but you always felt like he said them out of pity or like he had to.

“I appreciate you trying to make it better, but you don’t have to keep complimenting me, Dray.” You’ve said to him countless times.

And he would often respond with, “but I need you to know how I feel about you.”

Despite the constant uphill battle, your relationship with the platinum blond was everything you hoped for and more. Considering your friendship had started on rocky beginnings a year ago, you would have never thought you’d be with him now.  You couldn’t thank the stars more for when your aged and nearly blind owl had flown straight into the back of his head, pecking at him while he tried to swat it away which then led to him giving you a piece of his mind and trying to hex your owl - causing you to try to hex him just as McGonagall happened to be passing by the fiasco that landed both of you in a months-long detention for reckless magic usage. It was in detention when the two of you were forced to spend time together and realized that the other wasn’t as bad as they thought.

Draco, much like everyone else, always believed Hufflepuffs to be weak and cowardly, too kind for their own good - but he quickly learned how common of a misconception that was the longer he knew you. You always fought for what was morally right, defended those you love and are loyal to courageously, and were sweet and friendly with everyone you talked to whether you knew them or not.

He gravitated towards your kindness and empathetic approach to everything. He loved to see the smiles you put on people’s faces or the way animals would randomly come up to you and immediately trust you enough to give them gentle pets that they always leaned into. He even loved the way you talked to everyone as your equals, something he rarely saw in his environment. Everything you did was a vast difference to what he saw on the daily from his cold and aloof peers, but it was a difference he enjoyed. He wished so deeply that everyone could see and understand how amazing you were to him and he was determined to make it happen.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” You asked shyly as he held your hand tightly in his, walking you slowly over to his large group of his closest Slytherin friends that were all gathered around a bench under a tree in the courtyard.

The Prince of Slytherin believed that if he could get his friends to at least tolerate you, then everyone else would follow in suit. He only associated himself with the best and most influential of his house so if there was anyone that could improve his current situation; it would be them. You were a little uneasy about his plan, but later agreed when he had convinced you that his idea couldn’t and wouldn’t fail.

“Of course it is!” He exclaimed encouragingly. “Plus, I’m Draco Malfoy, they’ll like anything I tell them to like.”

“Okay,” you sighed, rolling your eyes slightly at his boast.

The closer you got to them, the more you felt your hands begin to sweat and the heat crawling up your face. They all began to turn towards the two of you, their eyes focusing on you and you only with a pointed gaze. You started to realize how greatly you underestimated how intimidating they looked. Especially the one girl who made it her mission to bother you every chance she could get - always from afar while she pointed at you and whispered something into her friend’s ears while they laughed or when she would pass by you and say something rude under her breath.

“Look what Malfoy’s dragged in!” Pansy Parkinson called out with a malicious smirk on her face as she eyed you.

“Give it a rest, Pansy,” Blaise sighed, “If Malfoy wants us to meet his little friend then so be it.”

“Not my little friend, my girlfriend,” Draco corrected angrily as the two of you finally reached the group. “This is Y/N and I wanted you all to meet her since I plan on having her around for a long while, so you might as well get used to it.”

“Long while? Poor thing can’t even introduce herself,” Pansy laughed tauntingly.

“I think Draco introduced me just fine right now but if you want, I’ll do it again to make you feel better,” you smiled a big fake toothy grin at her. “Hi, I’m Y/N.”

Everyone snickered at your response, watching for the girl’s reaction as her nostrils flared in irritation. Draco smiled to himself and gave your hand a quick squeeze, feeling proud that you found a way to talk back to her in the nicest way possible.

“Right, well, I’m sure you know this is; Goyle, Crabbe, Zabini, Pike, Flint, Nott, and...” Draco pointed to everyone, trailing off when he reached the only girl in the group, “I don’t think that one needs an introduction, she rather do it herself, right Parkinson?”

She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, giving the blond a false squinty-eyed grin with attitude.

“So, you want us to be the nice to the Hufflepuff then?” Zabini questions, pointing a finger towards you.

“Yes, I want you to be nice to, Y/N,” Draco corrected again, his hand getting tighter in your grasp as he spoke. “That goes for all of you and everyone else in this bloody house. I don’t want to hear anything bad about her or us coming from anyone ever again or you’ll have me to answer to. I don’t care how friendly we are.”

“So he has to defend you too now?” Pansy spoke again, “Merlin, it’s a wonder how you Hufflepuff sort even survive in this world.”

Before anyone could say anything, you mustered up all the courage you had and stepped forward towards the irked girl in front of you.

“Listen, I don’t want any more trouble with you or anyone,” you rushed out. “I just want to go about my day without having to hear how disgusting and weak I am.”

She opened her mouth to retaliate but Blaise put a hand in front of her and pushed her back before she got any closer to you.

“Alright, we’ll try,” he answered for the group quickly in an annoyed tone, “but I can’t promise that for the rest of Slytherin. They really don’t like you guys together, thinks it makes them look bad. Eventually, they’ll get tired of it and move on to the next.”

“That’s as good as its gonna get,” Goyle guffawed, Crabbe and Pike snickering alongside him.

You sighed, looking up at Draco and slightly tugging at his hand while you silently begged him to take you out of there but he didn’t catch the hint and instead did the complete opposite when he had turned towards the only boy in the group who seemed to have brains.

“Zabini, can I talk to you really quick?” He asked gruffly. Blaise deeply sighed and nodded, the two boys breaking away from the group and stopping a few feet away before talking in angry hushed voices to each other.

You - all of a sudden felt very small and sick, your eyes frantically bouncing around the group as they watched you squirm. Pansy took this as her chance to step closer towards you, stopping a few inches away from you while a smirk made its way onto her face.

“Since you obviously don’t see the bigger picture, I’ll paint it for you,” she began contemptuously, “you and Draco really don’t belong together, at all. Sure, you might think everything’s fine right now, but what’ll happen when he gets tired of defending you and proving you to everyone. You think Hogwarts is your problem? Just wait until you meet the Malfoy’s. Do you really think his father would like or even tolerate a filthy blood traitor like you?”

You gaped at her, taking a few shaky steps away from her as her words hit you like a truck.

“Think about it, Y/L/N,” she gets in your face again, her hand reaching up to grip your shoulder tightly to hold you in place. “He needs to be with someone of his status, a pure-blooded Slytherin who comes from a good wealthy family who holds all the same beliefs as the Malfoy’s. If I were you, I’d end it before you ruin his life any more than you already have and end up leaving him without a family or his inheritance.”

“Are you trying to say that ‘someone’ should be you?” You question through gritted teeth, shrugging your shoulder hard out of her clawed grasp.

“I never said that,” she smiles, “but who am I to say it shouldn’t be?” 

Pansy tauntingly walked away from you, a smug look on her face as she noticed just how obviously she had hurt you. You wanted to run away and cry, but you held it together for the sake of your last remaining dignity and so that you wouldn’t please your assailant even more than you already have.

Draco turned to stroll back towards the group with Blaise, his eyes landing on your shuddering figure and the broken look in your eyes as they met his. He looked around at the rest of the group who were talking amongst themselves, unknowing to them that Parkinson had just ripped a new one on you. She stood around them, looking at her nails with an uninterested look in her eyes and when she felt Draco’s eyes on her, she looked up and smiled at him innocently. 

‘Bitch,’ you thought.

He slowly walked towards you, taking your hand and deeply frowning when you immediately slipped it out of his.

“What’s wrong?” His voice dripped with concern, his sad gray’s searching your face for any answer as to why you were suddenly acting so cold.

“I need to talk to you,” you breathed out. “Alone.”

He nodded, instinctively reaching out for your hand only for you to reject it again. He felt queasy at the response, his heart falling to his stomach as you turned around and began walking away. His legs were moving hastily behind you, a dooming tension had fallen between the two of you and he couldn’t for the life of him find a reason why.

Pansy’s words were like a game of pinball on a constant loop in your mind. Your thoughts were bumping and flying haphazardly as you tried to make sense of them and what you were about to do. And as much as you hated to admit it - the wench was right. You would never be able to offer Draco and his family anything that would ever be close to enough. You were just a sweet, regular Hufflepuff, someone far from who his family expected to date. And what if you did end up staying with him? You figured you would end up breaking up years later when he would be forced to marry someone else. Or in the slight chance, he fought against that, there was no way you’d forgive yourself if he lost his family and his future because of your own selfish needs.

You stopped at an empty corridor, sitting at one of the windowsills you regularly sat at with the platinum blond when the two of you snuck out at night to meet each other. Your head fell into your hands, your thoughts raging louder in your head and now through your body as you began to unwillingly shake. The held back tears had finally broken out in a waterfall of sadness, frustration, and grief.

Draco only watched, his heartbreaking at the sight as he kneeled in front of you, his hands resting on your knees while he tried to figure out what to say.

“Darling, please tell me what’s gotten you like this,” he pleads sadly. “If it’s about what Blaise said, I made a deal with him so he would try and help.”

“No, it’s not that,” you answered, choking back the lump in a feeble attempt to try and get yourself calmed down enough to talk to him.

He sat back on his heels, his hand running down his face in distress as he racked through his brain for anything else that might have gotten you like this. He let you cry for a bit, feeling useless as he watched you go through an internal battle he had no clue about.

“Then what is it? Tell me and I’ll fix it,” he says softly when he saw your tears had finally been reduced to stray droplets on your face.

“You can’t,” you sniffle. Your hand weakly brushed over his paled slender fingers that were holding your knee gently. He turned his palm upwards for you and you placed your shaking hand in his while you basked in the final moments of his warmth. You regrettably slipped out of his grip before you spoke the words you couldn’t take back. “We can’t be together anymore.”

Draco blinked, his stomach dropping as soon as the words left your mouth. “What?”

You stood up, backing away from him as you shook your head. “Everyone was right - I’ll never be good enough for you, for your friends, for your family. You deserve to be with someone who makes your life easier, not harder.”

“Where did all this come from?” He asks incredulously, standing up from his spot on the floor as he painfully watched your slowly retreating figure. “It’s all rubbish is what it is. You’ve never made my life harder.”

“Draco, look around you!” You exasperated, your arms flailing around you. “You had to make a deal with your own friends for them to even be nice to me. Your house can’t stand me and they take it out on the both of us! And what about your parents? You know for a fact they would hate me, don’t even try and deny it.”

Pale hands ran through his hair, his fingers pulling at the platinum strands in frustration.

“I thought you didn’t care about all that,” he said woefully. “I thought you’d know by now none of it matters.”

“Well, I care now,” you answer back gloomily. “And you should too.”

There was a spinning and nauseating feeling in the pit of the Slytherin’s stomach, his heart violently jumping around in his chest as he let you storm away from him. 

He let his back fall against a pillar, a deep and burning exhale falling from his trembling lips while he stared at a live painting across from him. It was of three women, the chalices in their hands supposed to be joined in a toast above them while they smiled gleefully in celebration, 3 of Chalices, it read in the caption below the frame. Instead of being in their usual position, they stared at him with pity in their softly painted eyes as they slowly raised their cups towards him in a way of showing their condolences.

He nodded curtly at them before he kicked himself off the wall and dragged himself towards the Great Hall where they were serving dinner and where he would undoubtedly find his so-called friends. He prepared himself to break the news to them, knowing they would be over the moon about it and as much as he wanted to join them in their delight, he couldn’t push away the large ache that had settled itself in his chest.

“We’re done,” he muttered dreadfully to himself, “it’s over.”

He was testing out different ways he could tell everyone the long-awaited news but they all left a bitter taste in his mouth.

“I think you’ll all be delighted to know, Y/N-” he tried again but he lost his train of thought when he spoke your name. It was like taking an invisible kick to his heart as if Peeves the Poltergeist had somehow crawled into his body and was wreaking his usual havoc on his insides. 

The second he stepped into the Great Hall and saw his group sitting there, eating and laughing amongst everyone else, he felt sick all over again. There was no way he could stomach the triumph they were about to unleash, but he sucked it up and drudged towards them anyway.

“You look ghastly,” Pansy snickers, already having a feeling as to why he looked so rough. He stopped at the bench, hesitating to sit down because he knew he’d want to dash the second everyone started to relentlessly bash you.

“Deal’s off, Zabini,” the blond spoke lowly. “I’m not with Y/L/N anymore so it doesn’t matter.”

“You’re better off without her, Malfoy,” Blaise said delightedly. “Can’t believe you nearly had us associating with a blood traitor. It’s better that she’s gone.”

“Yeah, we ought to thank Pansy for that,” Crabbe laughed loudly through a mouthful of food. Pansy kicked his shin under the table, and he recoiled too fast, the food in his mouth getting shot in the wrong direction as he started choking.

“Pansy?” Draco repeated, his eyes falling towards the shying girl. “What did Pansy do?”

“What?” Crabbe coughed roughly, “did no one else see her talking to the ickle Hufflepuff?”

Pansy kicked him again and he wailed out a “stop kicking me, you donkey!”

Any ounce of sadness Draco had in his body was immediately washed out in rage. He wanted to flip over the table and scream at everyone in his path, but he only turned towards Pansy again and asked her calmly.

“What did you say to her?”

“I only told her the truth!” She said coyly, holding her hands up in defense.

“What” his fist had slammed onto the table making everyone sitting near the contact jump in surprise, “did you say to her!”

“The truth! Or are you too blind to see it too?” She sneered at him. “Do you honestly think the two of you would last? Look at who you are, Draco!”

“Talk to me ever again and I swear I’ll hex you,” he spat, turning hot on his heel as he stormed out of the Great Hall, his friends staring at his retreating figure in shock at the outburst.

Draco found himself rushing through stairs and corridors, his heart racing as he searched for the place he just knew you’d be. Now that he knew the full story, he needed to talk to you. Even if you didn’t change your mind, he wanted to at least try to fix what had been broken. The tall and bronzed doors were ajar, a small light filtering through the dark corridor he was nearly running down. 

A mop of bright silver hair had peaked through the crack in the doors of the Hogwarts kitchen, worried gray eyes following in suit as they searched the room for its target. He found you hunched over a small dessert plate, a half-eaten cake being drenched in your tears that never seemed to stop. There was a house-elf next to you, looking up at you from the floor in concern while they patted your leg. 

“Mister!” a scraggly voice croaked out from below him. He looked down to find a rugged looking house-elf staring up at him with furrowed eyebrows and hands on its hips. “Students are prohibited in the kitchen.”

“There’s a student right there,” he pointed towards you.

“She’s an exception!” the elf exclaimed wildly.

Draco shook his head before walking past the small creature, power walking straight towards you while it ran behind him.

“Wait till Gonpy tells the Headmaster about this!” The elf calls, “Gonby asks your name, sir!””

“Vincent Crabbe,” Draco answers mindlessly as he continued walking towards the far end of the room that very closely resembled the Great Hall and its vastness.

The familiar accent rang through your ears, your glassy eyes shooting up in surprise when you see the reason for your tears hurrying towards you.

“Before you say anything, you need to listen to me,” he starts desperately once he reaches you. “I know it was Pansy who put those thoughts into your head. I know you think you’re not enough for me. And I know you think I was always complimenting you out of pity, but you couldn’t be more wrong about any of that. I say all those things to you because I mean it. You are everything to me. You are more than enough for me just by being you. You make me the happiest I’ve ever been and sometimes I wonder if I’m even good enough for you. But you need to understand how much I love you.”

“Draco,” you breathe, heart leaping in your chest at his rambling speech, “I love you too. But what about everyone else, how are we even supposed to be with each other in peace?”

“To hell with everyone else,” he responds quickly, walking around the edge of the table so that he was now only mere centimeters away from you. “Do you want to be with me?”

“Yes, of course,” you blink at him, “but do you really think your parents would let this happen?”

“We’ll deal with them when the time comes,” he mumbles, his hand finding its way to your puffy cheek where he let it rest. “Besides, my mother likes anything that makes me happy, so I know for a fact at least she will end up loving you just as much as I do.”

You nodded happily, a new hope bubbling in your stomach as you lurched towards him and hugged the stressed boy against you tightly. The both of you let out a breath of relief at the same time from the contact, finally feeling back in balance after the short-lived sorrow. 

He pulled away from you and leaned down into you, his lips capturing yours in a tender and passionate kiss. That was when the elves you had forgotten about had quickly stopped eavesdropping, scurrying themselves away from the table as they went to start cleaning up the kitchen. 

It was minutes before you had finally pulled away, looking dreamily into the happy gray’s that gazed back at you. You admired him for a couple seconds, feeling very content before you reached up towards him again, tangling your hands in his hair and pressing another kiss onto his now swollen lips. He moved needily against you, pushing your body flush the table as he held you tightly against him.

“Ahem,” a small voice uncomfortably called out from below. It was the same elf who had chased Draco down the kitchen when he walked in, a frown on his face as he stared at the two of you. “Gonpy and the house-elves make food here!”

“I’m sorry, Gonpy,” you hurriedly apologize, ripping yourself away from a ragged breathing Draco as you bent down to shake hands with the elf. “Thank you for making me cake and letting me cry here, you’re a Hogwarts hero.”

“Gonpy thanks you, Miss Y/L/N! The truest, kindest Hufflepuff!” 

Draco bit back a smile at the interaction. You stood up and reached your hand behind you for the Slytherin to take and as the two of you walked away, he yelled out a quick, “Thanks Gonpy!”

And once the two of you were near the exit, he wrapped his arms around you from behind and pressed his body against your back, lowering his mouth towards your ear and kissing the skin right below it before whispering, “do you want to go back to my dorm?”

You nodded eagerly, giggling loudly as the two of you stumbled out of the door underneath his hold and into the dimly lit corridor before pulling apart and racing towards the direction of the dungeons with his hand interlocked in yours.

[amjustagirl]

Hogwarts AU (Haikyuu!!)

feat. Kita Shinsuke

Previously: Miya Atsumu. Miya Osamu. 

Masterlist link here

Warnings: Tooth-rotting fluff

A/N: Any other characters you’d like to see? Send me an ask! 

You knew of Kita Shinsuke, certainly - at least from your gigging girlfriends.

He’s known for his stellar grades (second only to your own) and his reserve position as the keeper on the Hufflepuff team. 

You found him serious and studious when you partnered with him once or twice in class.

But otherwise, you weren’t well acquainted with him. 

That all changed when you were appointed head boy and head girl respectively, and had to share an office for prefectorial duties. 

‘Shall I get started on the disciplinary reports due this week, or draft the allocation of duties for the month?’ You ask him when you met him to split up the work for the first time. 

‘Neither, I’ve done them both’, he replies curtly. A stack of reports in his neat, square handwriting drops in your lap.  

‘Oh’, you say lamely, feeling a little redundant. ‘Is there anything else I can help you with then?’ 

He shakes his head, a clear dismissal as he turns back to his work. 

He’s too high-handed, you complain to your friends. He takes charge of all briefings, tries to refuse your help for most tasks, only accepting when you archly remind him that you’re his peer, not his subordinate. 

He’s infuriating, you continue to complain. He doesn’t have a spark of humour in his eyes when you try to joke around with him, he’s stern and harsh with the other prefects, who all end up protesting to you. And worst of all - his grades are catching up to yours, slowly, steadily - your pride doesn’t appreciate him nipping at your heels. 

 You don’t dislike him. But you don’t like him either. 

That is - until you’re two months into your final year, and you’re off on a solo round one night. 

Your mind was full of the entrance requirements for the Healer course that was just released this evening that you completely forgot where you were (the side staircase between the ground floor and the second floor is tricky, even the first years know that) and stuck your foot right into the vanishing stair.  

It’s a full moon tonight. Your foot is stuck in the stair. All incontrovertible facts. It’s so late that you’ve long given up hope of anyone rescuing you until dawn, so you crouch on the stairs, head huddled in your arms, prepared to camp here until dawn. 

Anyone, that is - save for one Kita Shinsuke. 

He clears his throat, rousing you from your nap, and though you glance up with hope, you end up deflating when you realise it’s him. 

‘You didn’t report back after your round’, he says, the faintest shadow of a smile on his face as he looks down on you, uniform rumpled, eyes heavy with sleep. 

‘I kinda got stuck’, you admit, letting him pull you up, and you mutter a resentful thanks when he frees you from the accursed stairs. 

‘I can see that’, he chuckles, and you blink owlishly. 

Kita Shinsuke, laughing? You must be hallucinating. 

Still, for all his flaws, he’s a gentleman, insisting on walking you back to Ravenclaw tower. It’s such a shock to your system to find that he’s actually human that you find the courage to voice out your long held complaint that he’s not letting you do enough work, that it makes you feel redundant. 

He apologises earnestly. ‘I didn’t mean to do that - I’ve been so used to just tryin’ to do everythin’ by myself that I forget I’ve a partner to help me with this’. 

You accept his apology with a laugh, wishing him farewell and goodnight. 

As you get ready for bed, your face heats up for some reason when you think about him referring to you as his partner. You’re glad he didn't pick up on it.  

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

That marks a turning point in your relationship with him. 

True to his word, Kita starts to treat you like his partner in all prefectorial tasks, splitting all tasks equally with you, seeking your counsel when he needs to. And you start to see why your friends giggled helplessly when you told them that he would be head boy, and would share an office with you. 

‘He’s hot!’ They protested, when you scolded them for being silly twits. 

And now, you have to agree - staring shamelessly at the sight of his broad shoulders filling out his quidditch uniform, his light grey hair tousled in the wind as he glides gracefully down on his broom towards you. 

‘Yachi-san forgot to get you to sign the report’, you tell him, waving the sheaf of papers at him. ‘And don’t scold her, she’s still terrified of you’. 

The younger girl still shakes whenever Kita speaks to her, and she even begged you on her knees to seek him out in her stead. You should be the one thanking her, you think amusedly, appreciating the sheen of sweat on his forehead, the proud curve of his neck as he signs the documents, giving you a wave as he returns back to practice. 

Then you discover he’s not as heartless as his demeanor led you to believe. 

‘Kita, what are on earth are you doing?’ You gasp at the sight before you. 

You heard some rustling in an empty classroom, and assuming it to be another amorous couple getting frisky (you would turn a blind eye, really but you’ve had to clean up after them far too many times for you to have lost your patience by now), you kicked the door open, only to be greeted by the absolutely adorable sight Kita Shinsuke surrounded by a whole gaggle of younger students seated in a circle around him. The younger kids giggle, and even Kita breaks into a smile. 

It turns out he’s been tutoring the weakest students in his downtime because, as he says - magic is hard for those not born into it, like him. Refusing to be left out, you join him in these tutoring sessions, cajoling him to hold it in your office, magicking up beanbags and cushions to make the entire tutoring session a much more comfortable affair. 

‘Well done!’ he exclaims in excitement as the shyest first year succeeds in casting a wingardium leviosa for the first time. 

‘Good work!’ he tells another second year approvingly, as she shows him her top marks for her transfiguration essay. 

Watching him take the whole brood of younger kids under his wing makes you look at him in a different light - a softer light, for the first time. 

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

‘Would you like to go to Hogsmeade together?’ you ask him after a prefects’ meeting, as you walk back to your office together to gather your things. You’ve practised far too long in front of the mirror to channel your inner Gryffindor (even though you’re at heart, a studious Ravenclaw) to mess this up. 

‘Sure’, he responds without skipping a beat, and you grin, fist pumping behind his back. 

But when you turn up at Hogsmeade, the entire batch of final year prefects is there too. 

‘It was a good idea to have a batch outing’, Kita says, as he turns around to chat with Kiyoko from Gryffindor. 

Kuroo from Slytherin, who you hear would’ve been head boy if Kita didn’t beat him out, grins knowingly as he notices the lip gloss you used specially for this occasion, and even kind, funny Aran from Gryffindor bumps your shoulder sympathetically as you look utterly downcast for the rest of the afternoon. 

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

You’re a Ravenclaw, for Merlin’s sake, so you take a hint, lick your injured pride, and stop any further romantic overtures towards one Kita Shinsuke. 

But when you notice his eyes growing tired, his hand faltering over another report he should’ve delegated to someone else, you shoo him stubbornly out of the office, pertly telling him it’s time to take his own advice and rest - or you’ll write to his grandma, and see if she doesn’t send him a howler to take care of himself. When he’s gone, you promptly take over the report, and in complete defiance of your own words to him, you keep yourself up all night finishing not just that report, but the rest of the reports on his plate for the week. 

It’s what a friend would do, you tell yourself, gritting your teeth and setting your quill viciously on an accounting report that bloody Daishou managed to push off to Kita instead of doing it himself. 

It’s dawn by the time you faceplant into the stack of reports you managed to plow through. 

‘Et tu, brutus’, he mutters when he finds you asleep on the desk the next morning, head still pillowed on the mountain of reports. His eyes crinkle at the edges when he gazes down at you, laughing softly when you shy away from his attempts to wake you.

‘Kita?’ you mumble, when he finally takes hold of your shoulder and gently shakes you awake. ‘Didn’t I tell you to go to sleep?’ 

Wait a minute. Is it morning already? 

You jolt awake, swiping the drool collecting at the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand, flushing red in embarrassment at cool, collected Kita catching you like this. This is a bloody nightmare - you grab at your things, making hurried excuses to leave the room when he catches your wrist. 

‘Would ya want to go to Hogsmeade with me this weekend?’ 

‘With the rest of the prefects?’ you mumble shamefacedly, not even noticing that he doesn’t let go of your hand. ‘Sure, I guess.’

Kita laughs again. Twice in a day, you note distractedly. Did you miss something in Astronomy class about the stars aligning with Jupiter or something? 

‘Nope, just with me.’ He tugs you towards him, standing so close your ears flame bright red. You’re sure that if he takes a step closer, your ears might explode. 

‘Kita?’ you stammer, unsure if you’re awake or lost in your dreams. 

‘I owe you an apology’, he says, eyes trained on your lips. 

It definitely isn’t a dream because oh Merlin you can feel his breath fan against your lips. 

‘I only realised you were askin’ me on a date the last time after Aran set me straight. And I’ve been waitin’ for the right moment to ask you out to set matters straight.’

‘You don’t have to - ‘ you squeak, but your words are swallowed by his mouth slanting hungrily against yours and oh gods you’re one of those couples you have to book for making out in school, aren’t you - but does it count if you’re doing it in the head prefects’ office - and wait, does this mean you have to book yourself -  

Then you lose all train of thought when Kita swipes his tongue into the seam of your mouth. Clinging to him for dear life, you tangle your fingers in his hair. 

‘I want to’, he promises, when you separate for breath. 

Your mind is still blank as you nod dumbly, agreeing to meet him at the Great Hall next weekend. You’re still touching your swollen lips, completely distracted that you don’t even notice the squeals and whispers in the corridors when he walks you to class, hand in hand. 

[we-pay-for-everything]

Merlin’s more “serious” episodes are both its undoing and its saving grace. The filler episodes are usually boring, but the plot heavy ones are incredibly aggravating. Morgana going evil makes no sense. We witnessed her growing resentment torward the king, but she always cared for people - so why doesn’t she care about taking innocent lives anymore? Why isn’t it enough to defeat Uther? Why must she get her revenge? What happened in that full year she was gone? Also, I assume that Morgana only doesn’t just kill Uther because she wants to take control of Camelot in order to restore magic to the kingdom. She’s had many chances to kill him already...  

Another annoying thing about evil Morgana, other than its “men are deserving of compassion, but women are just evil and crazy and must burn at the stake” implications, is that, the eviler Morgana gets, the more it seems that Arthur and Uther can’t live without her. A big issue with Merlin is how inconsistent everyone’s characterization is. An ambitious plot can’t be properly executed this way.

The entire fate of Camelot rests on Merlin’s unflinching belief that he must save Arthur and Uther at all costs. He must save Arthur because he will restore magic to the kingdom and unite the lands, even though there’s no evidence of either, and he must save Uther because his death would destabilize the Kingdom and hurt Arthur. According to Gaius, Arthur is not yet ready to take over the throne - and that is true - but the pros of killing Uther still outweigh the cons. Arthur is immature, yes, but he’s a man of the people and will do anything for Camelot: he’s respected by all, he’s one of the greatest knights in all the lands, he’s willing to listen to others and learn from his mistakes even if he’s also stubborn. Uther may be more experienced in ruling the kingdom, but he has many enemies and a frightening body count; he’s also inflexible and ruthless. Uther is all that stands in the way of Arthur becoming the great King he’s destined to become and perhaps ending the war on magic.

Merlin believes Arthur is his destiny because the last dragon said so, and everything he’s seen so far naturally strengthens his belief in Arthur - it’s clear that he has the potential to be a great king. However, for magic to become legal, since Uther will never change his mind, Arthur must see reason. As long as Uther lives, Arthur will follow him blindly and his lies and beliefs will continue to poison Arthur against magic. And this is partly Merlin’s fault - not only is he the one keeping Uther alive, but he’s withholding vital information from the man he wishes to become king. Because of Merlin’s lies, Arthur believed that Morgause had deceived Arthur with a vision of his dead mother. His mother had exposed Uther hypocrisy, which, for the first time, made Arthur seriously question Uther’s judgment. However, Merlin covered for Uther, because doing so meant Arthur wouldn’t suffer and the king would live. But even if Merlin didn’t wish for the King to die, he at least had a chance to show Arthur that magic wasn’t necessarily evil or deceitful, and that Uther had a personal vendetta against magic and was a hypocrite for murdering all magic users or sympathizers when both he and Gaius had used magic before. 

Furthermore, by keeping his own secret, Merlin kept Arthur for being exposed to the healing and protective powers of magic. Arthur is loyal, especially to those who risk their lives for him, so if Merlin had made Arthur see that he was helping him, Arthur’s attitude towards magic could’ve shifted a bit. How is he supposed to see that magic isn’t evil when all he knows are the many times magic has been used to kill either him or his father? He grew up believing magic was wrong and that magic users were ill or less than human. To undo this indoctrination, something or someone needed to make him question his beliefs, yet Merlin never let it.

I understand that Merlin has to look out for himself and Arthur never gave him a good reason to trust he wouldn’t tell Uther about him. However, by keeping the truth from Arthur, he wasn’t given a real chance to change his mind. Merlin is simply banking on a prophecy that tells him one day Arthur will accept magic, which is foolish and hypocritical. Merlin will go against the dragon’s heedings when it’s convenient, so it isn’t that his faith in the dragon’s wisdom is unshakable - rather, some advice is just easier to follow. Merlin, as Arthur’s servant and sort-of friend, has room to at least create opportunities in Arthur’s life to show him not all magic is evil and Uther is a liar. The death and suffering of magic users and sympathizers is more on Merlin’s hands than it is on Arthur’s - Arthur has the excuse of ignorance. (I will say, Arthur’s relationship to magic is inconsistent and there were times he saw its power for good and ignored it, but Arthur believes it is his duty to follow his father and that Camelot is only safe due to Uther’s reign of terror - a fact which truthfully is never disproven). If Merlin trusts that Arthur is kind and better than Uther, than he must give him a chance to become the king Camelot needs. Merlin chooses to stand by and let people die. He refused to help Morgana by sharing his secret, and look where that got them. Maybe it sounds unfair to put it all on Merlin but he took on this responsibility himself - as he chose to interfere and decide what’s best for Camelot, he must be held accountable. Had he let Uther die a long time ago, Arthur would be King, Morgana wouldn’t be evil, and although Camelot would be somewhat vulnerable, magic users would be a bit safer and there would be hope for a brighter future. 

It’s funny that Merlin’s main reason to save Morgana after she fell down the stairs was knowing she’s Uther’s real daughter. I understand he was afraid of Uther going mad and unleashing hell on Camelot, but it’s still ironic that he protects Arthur because he will be better than Uther, yet he protects Uther with the same gusto - even if only from emotional damage.

I don’t believe Uther is the real, or only, bad guy of Merlin - it often seems like Merlin and Gaius are just as culpable. Gaius, after all, protects and admires Uther, and so does Merlin to an extent. 

[engie-ivy]

The girls have a bet, the boys eavesdrop

“Merlin, Mary,” Marlene says. “You hadn’t noticed that until now? He’s been looking at Lupin like love sick puppy since third year.”

Remus eyes widen, but he doesn’t dare to turn his head to look at Sirius.

Stupid ideas and dumb bets

Boys cannot go up to the girls’ dormitory. Animals, however, have no trouble walking up those stairs, and once upstairs, his Animagii friends managed to pull Remus up as well. Which is how Remus finds himself crouched under the Invisibility Cloak with his three friends in the corner of Lily, Marlene, Mary and Emmeline’s dorm.

James had overheard Marlene tell Dorcas and Amelia that they were all to meet in their dorm that evening, to discuss dates for the upcoming Yule Ball. James had immediately decided that this was a conversation he needed to hear, as he was particularly interested in Lily’s thoughts on the matter. Remus was against the whole scheme, and had lectured his friends on breaching the girls’ privacy, but to no avail. Remus only decided to join to prevent his friends from being creepy, or at least more creepy than they’re already being. Not that Remus actually thinks his friends would do something like peek at the girls. He actually tested James. They had decided that Remus should look into the dorm first to check if all the girls were properly dressed, as Remus is as innocent and unassuming as can be, and he had said that Lily was standing in her bra. James passed his test with flying colours, as instead of immediately looking himself, he pulled Remus back and scolded him for not averting his eyes.

So now Remus is huddled under the Invisibility Cloak, where they only fit if Peter remains in his rat form, on the cold floor of Lily’s dorm besides her bed. He only refrains from complaining about his current predicament because Sirius is pressed against him so close he can feel the warmth of his body and his hair tickling his face.

In the middle of the room, Lily is sitting on her bed, knees tucked underneath her, wearing pyjamas and her hair in a messy bun on top of her head. Dorcas and Marlene are sitting on the edge of Marlene’s bed, Mary is lying upside down on a pillow on the floor, and on some other pillows scattered around, Emmeline, Hestia and Amelia are sitting.

“He’s going to ask you!” Dorcas says.

Lily brushes a hair from her face. “He wouldn’t dare.”

“Any sensible person wouldn’t, but Snivellus…”

“Don’t call him that childish nickname Potter and Black came up with.”

“He’s called you a lot worse,” Dorcas replies.

“Exactly,” Lily says. “And you don’t really think that after calling me the m-word in front of the entire school he’ll have the nerve to ask me to the Yule Ball?”

“You know what would really piss him off?” Mary says with a grin. “If you’d go to the ball with James Potter!”

Remus glances over at James, but he doesn’t look as pleased with this as Remus would expect.

Lily huffs. “I don’t care enough about Sniv- Snape to choose my date purely based on his feelings.”

“Besides,” Marlene adds. “That wouldn’t be fair to Potter. He really cares about you.”

“Potter only cares about himself,” Lily mutters.

“Lils, you know that’s not true,” Emmeline says. “He deserves more credit than that.”

Lily rolls her eyes. “You just like him because he’s the great Quidditch hero with good abs.”

Marlene leans forward with a sly smile “So you have been noticing Potter’s abs.”

Lily blushes and throws a pillow at her face. “Shut up.”

Remus sees James practically beaming. What Remus hopes he’ll learn from this is that he should show Lily his caring side more, and let her know how his feelings for her are sincere. What Remus fears he’ll learn from this is to show his abs more around Lily.

“So what’s the current status?” Dorcas asks. “We have Mary going with Peter, Emmeline going with Gideon, Marlene going with me-”

“Oh?” Marlene asks. “I don’t believe you have asked me yet?”

“Too bad, McKinnon,” Dorcas says, while pulling Marlene in and kissing her temple. “That was part of the deal when you agreed to be my girlfriend.”

Marlene chuckles. “I’m glad I don’t have to go through the trouble of getting one of those obnoxious boys as my date.”

“Who would you pick from the guys if you had to?” Hestia asks.

“Who would you pick from the girls if you had to?”

“Lily.”

“Lily.”

“Lily, for sure.”

“Yeah, Lily.”

“Aaaw, you girls!”

“Now Marlene, who would it be?”

“Sirius Black,” Marlene says. Lily rolls her eyes, but Marlene just shrugs. “If I have to, I might as well go with the fittest bloke.”

Remus can agree with her there, and is suddenly very glad for Dorcas. Next to him, Sirius has a smug smile on his face.

“You’d just do that to meddle with the bet!”

Remus frowns. The bet?

“Oh, you’d know all about meddling with the bet, won’t you, Emmeline?” Amelia says. “I heard you talk to Lupin the other day when Potter and Black entered the common room!”

Emmeline flips her hair over her shoulder. “Why, Amelia, I don’t know what you mean.”

“You kept talking about ‘how broad Black’s shoulders have become since he has started playing Quidditch’.”

“I was just making conversation.”

“You were putting ideas in his head!”

“Mia, please,” Lily says. “I hardly think Remus Lupin needs Emmeline to put the idea of Sirius Black’s broad shoulders in his head. I’m pretty sure they’re well-represented there already.”

The girls giggle, and Remus feels his cheeks burn. He feels said broad shoulders pressed against him, and the owner glance curiously at him.

“Can I still change my answer?” Mary asks. “I had no, but I was sitting across of Lupin and Black in the library, and Lupin was enthusiastic telling Black about this book he had read, and Black was looking at him so fondly!”

“Merlin, Mary,” Marlene says. “You hadn’t noticed that until now? He’s been looking at Lupin like love sick puppy since third year.”

Remus eyes widen, but he doesn’t dare to turn his head to look at Sirius.

“There’s no changing your answer based on new insights anyway.” Amelia takes a piece of parchment out of her pocket. “It stays as follows,” she says, before she starts reading out loud. “Official bets on the matter of whether Sirius Black and Remus Lupin will get their shite together in time for the Yule Ball and be each other’s date: Lily, Emmeline, Alice, Hestia: yes. Marlene, Dorcas, Mary, Amelia: no.”

Remus still can’t look at Sirius. He doesn’t know what to feel. Mortification that he’s apparently been so obvious, for sure, but also hope. Hope that maybe, just maybe, the girls are onto something and Sirius is into him as well?

“I don’t want to be pessimistic,” Marlene says. “But honestly, I think it’ll take more time for Sirius Black to get his head out of his arse. We’ll be lucky if they figure it out before next year’s ball.”

“Lupin won’t be much better,” Emmeline says. “He’s a super smart guy, but when it comes to Sirius Black, his IQ drops like twenty points. I was working on a Potions essay with him the other day, and Black was standing behind us throwing the Quaffle back and forth with Potter. I pretended like everything was fine, but he didn’t hear two-third of the questions I was asking!”

Mary chuckles. “Oh Emmeline, you can’t expect Lupin to focus on Potions when Black’s arse is in view!”

Now mortification definitely takes over.

“I can’t handle another year of this, though!” Lily groans. “Every time I’m in a room with the two of them together I wish I brought a knife to cut the sexual tension.”

“I’m surprised you’re all for it, Lily,” Dorcas says. “I know how much you like Lupin, but honestly, I thought you saw Black as an annoying, arrogant and loud prat?”

“Nah,” Lily says. “I’ve discovered there’s more to him than that long ago. And even if he acts brash half of the time, he’s so thoughtful and caring when it comes to Lupin! I’d hardly recognize him.”

“I know!” Mary gushes. “Like, normally he can’t pay attention in class for longer than five minutes, but when Remus is ill and can’t come to class, he takes notes of every word the teacher says, even during History of Magic, just in case Lupin wants to know something. And when does anyone ever wants to know anything about History of Magic?”

Remus blinks. Of course, Sirius can be very considerate, and Remus’s circumstances may make him more in need of his kindness, but it can’t have anything to do with Remus himself, right?

Suddenly, Alice bursts through the door. “Frank just asked me for the Yule Ball!” She squeals.

Immediately, the girls jump to their feet and hug her in excited exclamations of delight. In the consternation, James grabs Sirius and Remus’s arms and drags them to their feet and out of the room.

Nobody says anything until they’re back in their own dorm. Remus sits down on the edge of his bed and becomes extremely interested in the floor.

“Ehm,” James says. “I think Wormtail and I should go to… Ehm, well, not be here.”

After they’ve left, Remus hears Sirius scrape his throat. He jumps, as Sirius is standing much closer than he had expected. He looks up in Sirius’s eyes, and sees his nervousness.

“So,” Sirius says. “It seems like the girls are betting whether we’re going to the Yule Ball together?”

“So it seems indeed,” Remus replies with a nervous laugh.

Sirius runs a hand through his hair. “After McKinnon called me an arrogant twat during Quidditch practice, I’d hate to have her win the bet.”

“Do you now?” Remus asks with a smile. “You’d ask me to be your date just to spite McKinnon?”

“That,” Sirius says. “And also because I’ve allegedly been looking at you like a love sick puppy for years, and taking History of Magic notes, as it turns out, is not the best way to woo you. So what do you say?”

A happy, warm feeling spreads through Remus’s chest and he’s suddenly very glad for James and his stupid ideas and the girls and their dumb bets.

“If you don’t mind having a date whose IQ drops twenty points around you and who prioritizes ogling you over Potions essays?”