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panda-noosh · 5 years ago

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set me free {Draco Malfoy x Reader}

Words: 12.3k

Summary: Death Eaters aren’t supposed to care.

Genre: angst

Notes: support my writing or ask me about commissions! - please let me know if you guys would like a part two to this?? because i feel like there’s a lot more i could explore. anyway, enjoy!!

----

You're getting used to waking up in a new place everyday.

The spell wears off after twelve hours, the perfect amount of time for them to move you from one place to another. It does not matter how many times you tell them you will go willingly; they never listen. They don't want to risk it, don't want to put up with a little half-blood, only fresh out of Hogwarts, screaming and kicking in an attempt to get released.

Lord Voldemort has too much to worry about already.

Your eyes peel open slowly. That familiar headache is at the forefront, the first thing you feel besides the cold concrete pressing against your tender cheek. Your hands are shackled, but the chains are useless; you're always weak when you first awaken, much too weak to attempt an escape, and they know that. The level of magic they use on you would be enough to paralyse anyone.

You look up. The room you are in is small – as they often are – and doused in uncomfortable darkness. A little light glows from beneath the door, and above your head you can hear people walking back and forth, the odd whimper coming from whatever victim Voldemort has acquired today. Water drips steadily from a hole in the concrete roof, slapping against the back of your hand which lay flat on the floor; you clench your fist just to make sure your fingers are still working, that he hasn't taken the extra precaution of damaging your limbs, too.

You push yourself up at long last, though the effort is exhausting. Your head feels too heavy, and your limbs too sluggish, and the idea of facing the day weighs you down to the point where you're half tempted to just lay back down and pretend to sleep. Maybe you can convince them they've finally gone too far, used too much magic, killed you entirely on accident.

But you don't, because your curiosity gets the better of you, just as it often does.

You stand on wobbly legs and make your way over to the cell-like door locking you in. You push it, getting a surprise when the door actually opens to reveal a concrete staircase leading up to a rickety looking wooden door at the very top. You poke your head out, glance left and right before slowly making your way towards it.

You know you shouldn't be doing this. Lord Voldemort will order someone to come get you when he wants your presence, but you currently have no idea where you are or who is present, and that's all the sentiment you need to find yourself breaking the rules these days. You were in Slytherin for a reason, whether that reason be as extreme as Voldemort's or not.

Behind the wooden door there is a hallway. Long, empty, eerily decorated with portraits of dark wizards you have only seen in the history books. They grin as you slowly make your way past them, trailing your bruised and cracked fingers along the emerald green wallpaper that almost seems to shine beneath the lights cast upon it. Your feet – bare, bruised, cold – sink into a plush carpet of the same colour – the Slytherin colours.

And part of you recognises this place. You're certain you've seen it before, somewhere, maybe a long time ago, maybe recently. Either way, it makes your blood run cold, a startling fight or flight response settling in the pit of your stomach that you pay no attention to. You couldn't fight if you tried considering Voldemort has your wand, and the idea of trying to flee from him is scarier even than walking through these strangely familiar hallways.

You turn a corner, appearing at yet another large wooden door. It's a double door this time with a brass knocker and shiny gold handles; you approach, slowly open the door-

You realise your mistake only too late.

A spark of green light misses you by inches. It's only because you haven't even got the door fully open yet that the magic whizzes past you, slamming into the wall at your side. A painting cries out and slips down the wall. Inside the mysterious room, chairs are scraping backwards and people are calling out to whoever they believe is behind it – you close your eyes, uttering a curse to yourself that you could be so stupid.

“Open that door immediately, please.”

It's his ice cold voice that makes you step forward, even though every instinct in your body is telling you to turn and run, pretend it was someone else. You enter the room – clearly the dining room – and bow to Lord Voldemort, and Lord Voldemort only. These other wizards pretending to be big and bad can all get locked up in Azkaban in your opinion.

Lord Voldemort smiles. It's fake, and you know it is, but it calms your nerves anyway – maybe he won't be so angry at your intrusion, at the fact you took matters into your own hands and decided to have a stroll around this very large, very confusing mansion.

“Ah. Y/N's awake,” he says, not unlike a husband telling his wife that the child has stirred. “How was your rest?”

“Fine.”

He stiffens.

You quickly correct yourself. “Fine, my lord. Exactly what I needed.”

He grins again, the skin stretching grotesquely across his nose-less face. You want to look away, but keep your eyes forward in fear of offending him.

“And I can see you've made your way around Lucius's mansion just fine on your own. That's good. We don't have to waste time with the tour.”

You flick your gaze over to Lucius – you know him, of course, have seen him parading around Voldemort's feet for nearly as long as you've been here.

“This is your home, is it, sir?” you ask.

Lucius looks up, scowling. “It is. The home of me and my family.” He gestures vaguely to his right, and there you see the rest of them. You don't know why you didn't recognise each of them immediately, because you've heard all about them from Hogwarts.

Standing beside the head of the house is Narcissa Malfoy and her son, Draco, both of whom look miserable. Narcissa holds herself with the same tough restraint as her husband, pretending she's meant to be here when in reality, she looks so far out of her comfort zone it almost makes you feel bad for her.

Draco, however, isn't even trying. He looks at you, lower lip wobbling, eyes wide, because he knows exactly who you are and where you've come from. He went to school with you before the Daily Prophet was writing about your sudden disappearance, before the wizarding world took a week to look for you before ruling your disappearance off as a murder and leaving it at that.

“Draco,” you say, giving him a bow. “Lovely to see you again.”

“Ah!” Voldemort exclaims, clapping his hands. Around him, Death Eaters flinch, but you've gotten used to his dramatics. “I had a suspicion you two might know each other – you were in the same year at Hogwarts, were you not?”

The question is aimed at Draco, but you answer. “We were, my lord. Both in Slytherin.”

“Interesting. Quite a coincidence.” Voldemort gestures to the empty space beside him, and you stiffen, already knowing what he is offering. “Have a seat, Y/N. Meetings always do feel a little flat without my favourite little helper by my side.”

Nagini hisses, as if scolding you for taking her place as favourite. You give the snake a glance before slowly making your way to Voldemort's side; it's only with all these eyes on you do you take into consideration what you look like. Your hair, a tattered mess, clothes ripped and ragged. You wouldn't even go as far as to call them clothes, more like rags magicked together into something that can cover your body.

You sit down on the ground next to Voldemort. Nagini slips into your lap, swipes a tongue over your fingers before settling down around your shoulders; Death Eaters stare in awe, wondering how on earth you have somehow managed to tame the beast they are all so afraid of.

You look Lucius Malfoy dead in the eyes and stroke the top of the snakes head.

Voldemort smiles down at you for a second longer before he turns back to the table and continues with whatever meeting you had previously so rudely interrupted.

You can't even bring yourself to listen. You're exhausted, brain still reeling from the effects of the unknown magic used against you. You want to close your eyes, try sleeping again – for real, this time – but the weight of the snake in your lap and the tension in the room keeps you bolt upright, staring around at the Death Eaters Voldemort wants you to call family, but will never be family to you.

Your eyes land on Draco. He's not looking at you, because he's wise and he knows his place. Instead, he keeps his gaze dead ahead, hands locked in his lap like a boy terrified of his first day of school. His lower lip continues to shudder, but his parents offer not a single word of sympathy – nobody does. Around him, Death Eaters are in the same position – goodness, even his father looks a little frightened, refusing to look up to meet the eyes of the man they claim to adore so much.

Man. Even that term is used loosely in regards to Lord Voldemort.

The scariest part is, he knows it.

“Y/N here was kind enough to let me borrow their wand.”

You look down at your lap. “My pleasure, my lord.”

You can hear his nails clicking against the wood of your wand, the one thing you have ever truly cared about. It's in his possession now, but you were never under any illusion that it was ever fully yours once Voldemort took you under his control; as soon as Voldemort brought you along with him, every one of your possessions became his. Nonetheless, you have to curl your fingers into fists to stop yourself from reaching out and snatching your wand back. That will end badly for everyone.

“Ten inches, made of hawthorn wood with a. . . What was the core again, Y/N?”

“Unicorn hair, my lord.”

“Unicorn hair.” Voldemort chuckles; the sound slurs through his lipless mouth, and you shudder. “Not as powerful as my own, but sometimes we're not looking for power. Sometimes, we're looking for quick escapes. Isn't that right, Peter?”

A knee smashes against the bottom of the table. “Y-yes, m-my lord. Of course you are correct. Always correct.”

You scowl; you've never liked Peter Pettigrew.

“Thank you, Peter,” Voldemort purrs. “Always so supportive. And what about you, Draco? How do you feel?”

Draco looks up, and so do you. You aren't entirely sure why, considering you've always found it so easy to listen to the suffering of the Death Eaters when Voldemort is questioning them; however, there is something about the way Draco's silence stretches that little bit too long, the way Voldemort's sickly smile slowly begins to drop, the way Lucius leans across the table and hisses, “Draco, answer him!” that has you pulling yourself to your feet, Nagini still balanced over your shoulders.

“Perhaps it is safe to assume Draco is a little bit tired, my lord,” you say.

Everyone around the table goes still. Dolohov utters, “Stupid little wizard,” beneath his breath, but you pay him no mind. Already you have interrupted Voldemort's questioning; you do not want to make it any worse by turning your attention to someone else. You'll get Dolohov later.

Slowly, Voldemort turns to look at you. “Did I say you could stand, Y/N?”

“No, my lord, but I just-”

“You claim Draco is tired.”

You falter. “Y-yes, my lord. I made the suggestion that he is tired, and perhaps that is why he is taking a little bit of time to gather his wits today.” You glance at Draco, who stares at you with wide, watery eyes. “Us youngsters are forever messing up our sleep schedules; you must understand, my lord, he means no disrespect.”

“I'm feeling good,” Draco blurts out, the words rushing so fast from his mouth that his body jerks along with them, shaking the unused cutlery on the table. “I'm feeling very well, my lord. Of course I am. I'm here, aren't I?”

Despite Draco's long-winded answer, Voldemort keeps his eyes trained on you. Slowly, he reaches a hand up and strokes the top of Nagini's head – his finger is so close to your cheek now, close enough that you can feel the wind from each of his strokes. Back and forth and back and forth, Nagini humming in contentment as she bundles a little tighter around your shoulders.

“Good,” Voldemort says quietly. “I'm glad to hear it, Draco.”

You swallow thickly. He continues staring at you for a moment longer before he says, “Pettigrew.”

Again, Peter jumps, his knee slamming against the underside of the table. “Y-yes, m-my l-l-lord?”

“Take Y/N back to their rooms – you know the one. I will have a chat with them later on.”

Peter stands up immediately, wrapping his tiny little fingers around your upper arm. You continue staring at Voldemort until Peter tugs on your arm and drags you from the room, uttering incoherences under his breath. As the door begins to shut, you cast yet another, final glance over your shoulder, feeling your stomach flip when your eyes meet Draco's.

The door slams shut, and you're thrown back into the dungeon.

----

“Sometimes keeping your mouth shut doesn't ensure safety, young Malfoy.”

The darkness responds with silence, as you knew it would. Leaned up against the back wall of the dungeon, knees drawn to your chest, you can make out only the subtle silhouette of Draco Malfoy, leaning against the wall just outside your door, waiting for you to notice him, waiting for you to ignore him, waiting for the moment he can look at you and say you're fine, so he can go on about his day without feeling guilty.

“I am okay,” you call out, never looking up from the patterns you have scraped into the concrete using a rock. “I have much more experience with the Dark Lord than you do, Draco. We all make mistakes.”

There is a sigh, followed by footsteps, and then Draco is there, pale fingers curled around the bars of the door, sharp face illuminated by the light from his wand. “You've been here this entire time. A Death Eater.”

Your skin crawls at the name, the mark on your wrist burning. “I don't like being called Death Eater, Malfoy.”

“Why not? That's what you are. That's why you're here.”

“By here, do you mean the dungeon in your home? By here, do you mean trapped against my will, saving your stupid backside from getting hung up from the rafters like your precious little Muggle Studies teacher?”

Draco doesn't reel back. He doesn't even flinch. If possible, his gaze only continues to soften as he looks at you, and you're certain you must look pathetic right now. Curled in the corner of this dungeon wearing clothes that wouldn't even be considered humane, wandless and angry. Oh, a sight you must be, a joke to the world outside.

You look down at the floor and continue to scrape your name – over and over again – into the concrete. In case you forget you ever had one before all this.

The bars of the door creak as Draco leans against them. “Nobody back at Hogwarts would have suspected you becoming a Death Eater.”

“Don't-”

“Whatever you are. A helper. All I'm trying to say is, you were one of the better Slytherins. People truly thought you'd been murdered.”

“Oh, goodie.”

“And yet here you are.”

You pause. “Yet here I am.”

This conversation is pointless. You want him to leave so you can continue wallowing in fear on your own; this darkness is no place for someone like him, someone who can't even sit at the grandest, most prestigious table in the wizarding world without choking up. He's no Death Eater – you could see that much from the moment his lip started trembling.

“You didn't have to jump to my rescue out there, either,” he says.

You close your eyes, thumping your head back against the wall. “You were just sat there.”

“He was going to kill me, wasn't he? If I didn't answer.”

You shrug. “He gives out chances sometimes.”

“Only to you.” Draco steps forward, curling his fingers around the bars. “What makes you so special, Y/N?”

You find yourself smiling, flicking your eyes to him. He reels back at the glare, so different from the joyful, carefree eyes you used to hold when making potions in Snape's classroom, or studying in the Slytherin common room.

“Wouldn't we all like to know?”

The dungeon goes quiet, nothing more than the drip, drip, drip of water smacking against concrete ringing out between you. Draco shouldn't be here, of course. You can't imagine Voldemort granting him access to your 'chambers' after what he did, and certainly not before the Dark Lord himself has given you your reprieve for the way you acted back in the Malfoy's dining room. The punishment he will bestow upon you won't be light, will certainly not be merciful; you disappointed him, his closest confidant making him look like a fool in front of a room full of his most loyal supporters.

To make matters worse, you are only seventeen years old, barely just turned the legal age for a wizard.

You lean your head back and close your eyes. “When is he getting here?”

“I don't know.”

“You could find out.”

Draco doesn't respond.

You sigh heavily. “But you won't, of course. You're scared of him. Your master.”

“He's not-” Draco stops abruptly. Even in the dim torchlight you can see his blue eyes flick to his wrist, where the Dark Mark is burned into his flesh for good.

You smile. “He is. He owns you now, Draco – that's what that mark means, in case you forgot.”

“Shut up.”

“I don't understand why you're so scared of something you willingly signed up for.”

“I'm not scared. I'd be stupid to go against him – the strongest wizard of our time, of course I bit my tongue!”

“You bit your tongue at the wrong time.” Draco's eyes trace a line along the column of your throat before landing back on your gaze. “He's a bit more lenient with us, Malfoy, because we're the young ones, the ones who will follow in his footsteps if he plays his cards right. But that doesn't mean he's going to let you get away with complete ignorance, and what you showed at that table today – he'll see that as ignorance.”

Draco purses his lips and looks away, because he knows you're right. You've been by the Dark Lord's side since you were fourteen years old, learning the ways of his followers, building your way up the ladder until you could sit beside his throne and hold his beloved python across your shoulders.

“You pretend you know everything about him.” Draco's whisper sounds more like a hiss echoing through the eerie dungeon, Parceltongue. “You think you're in his head just because he chose you.”

“Trust me, Draco; you'd know if I was inside his head. I would not be talking to you as an equal if I was inside his head.”

Draco slams his hand against the bars. “What is it about you? He acts like you're – you're some kind of god-send, and then he locks you up in this dungeon. What have you got that enamours him so much, and what are you missing that makes him hate you just as much?”

The words claw, scrape, make your chest constrict because each question is one you have been wondering for a very, very long time. You gave up trying to get the answers.

You stare at Draco, unmoving, showing no emotion. It's a trick you've learned to master over the years, and it does its job. Draco keeps your gaze for only a moment before he huffs out a breath, looks to the floor and pushes away from the door, muttering curses beneath his breath.

“You should leave, Draco,” you say softly. “Before Mummy and Daddy catch you down here. They wouldn't like you talking to the prisoner in rags, would they?”

“And leave you down here on your own?”

“I think I'll manage.” You tap the concrete with your palm, a slap sound that makes Draco wince as it bounces along the walls imprisoning you. “It's awfully comfortable in here, you know.”

Draco shakes his head. “I'll see where he is.”

His voice is so quiet; you lean forward and say, “Come again?”

“I'll see where he is,” he repeats, louder, stronger. “And then I'll be back, okay?” “Don't put yourself in danger for me, Malfoy. I'm only in here because I saved you earlier – I won't be there to save you this time.”

Draco glares. “I'm not doing this for you. I'm doing this to show I'm not afraid. He chose me just as much as he chose you – he'll show kindness.”

Your heart aches for that glimmer of hope etched into his voice, evidence of the innocent boy he once was roaming the halls of Hogwarts with his friends, learning new spells and charms and potions as the world crumbled around him and he knew nothing of its severity. He stares at you for a moment longer before turning on his heel and leaving; you wait until you hear the wooden door slam closed before you close your eyes and let the tears slip silently down your face.

---

Draco doesn't return. The next person to open the door of your cell is Lucius himself, tall and white haired with a sneer that makes you want to punch him.

You pull yourself up from the floor, hands behind your back. It's reflex to give the older man a bow, one he does not return; this could mean two things, you have learned – he either doesn't respect you, or he thinks he's too good to bow back to the younger generation. He doesn't think you've earned that kind of kinship just yet.

“Sir,” you say. “I wasn't expecting you.”

“No,” Lucius replies. “You were expecting the Dark Lord, weren't you?”

You don't reply. He's asking stupid questions, questions he already knows the answer to.

“I'm afraid he's too busy to see to you right now,” Lucius continues. “So he's sent me in his stead.”

“You must be honoured, sir.”

A smile twitches at his lips, though he fights to remain stoic and professional; it should be easy to wriggle under this idiots skin. People who have no other personality trait than Death Eater are easy enough to manipulate when you've been doing it for so long.

“He's asked me to use Cruciatus on you for now,” Lucius explains.

“Oh. He's going easy on me. He really is generous, don't you think?”

Lucius's eyes snap down to your own. “Generous?”

“He could do so much worse with a power like his,” you reply, nodding enthusiastically; there's a sick sense of pleasure in watching this grown man's face scrunch up in confusion, horror almost. “When he took my wand, for example; leaving someone defenceless in a world like this is a big, big punishment, Mr Malfoy. If your son ever steps out of line, I would highly recommend giving it a go.”

Sorry, Draco.

Lucius opens his mouth, but words seem to fail him. He raises a brow, shakes his head and tries again. “I didn't come down here to take suggestions on how to raise my son, Y/N. I'm a busy man – let's get this over with.”

“Busy doing what, sir?” you ask, even as you press your back against the wall. “If you don't mind me asking.”

Again, Lucius falters. “Busy serving the Dark Lord, as we all should be.” You nod as if you understand, as if his words aren't pathetic. “Oh, yes. Of course. Right you are there, sir, right you are!”

Lucius scowls, pulls his wand from behind his back, and you seize the moment as soon as you can. It's difficult, forcing a blinding pain to the forefront of your mind that you only just manage to fight off before it completely consumes you; you've been without a wand for only a handful of days, so you're a little rusty when it comes to disarming in this way, but that scowl on his face makes it a little bit easier.

The pull is painful, yet satisfying. Lucius's fingers twitch, his wand shivering in his grip; he just has time to say “What-” before you jerk your head and the wand is flying towards you, the wandless version of Expelliarmus that took far too long for you to learn.

You lurch forward and snatch the wand from the air before pointing it at Lucius; the wand feels strange, fighting against it's new owner, but it still works – it has to, that much you learned from Ollivander.

Lucius stumbles forward, catches himself on the wall before you cry out, “Petrificus totalus!” and his entire body goes still. He clatters to the floor, lifeless eyes staring up at the concrete ceiling.

You stand over him, wand pointed at his chest. “You look pathetic, sir. Has anyone ever told you that?”

Lucius doesn't reply – of course he doesn't. You grin down at him, tilt your head before dropping his wand onto his chest.

“I don't really like wands made of elm,” you say. “And dragon heartstring? Really, Lucius? If the wand really does choose the wizard, I have some questions for you, sir.”

You clap your hands together, ridding them of dust before you give Lucius's paralysed body one last smile and walk out of the dungeon, head held high.

---

Voldemort knows what you've done. He set the whole thing up, a test to ensure you are still useful.

You've had multiple of these tests thrown at you ever since you joined his ranks – willingly or not. He sends people in, Death Eaters, criminals that make most wizards tremble by just being named. He puts them against you and tests your strength, and by the looks of things, you're doing a fine job.

You're still here. He's kept you alive.

You walk into Lucius's office without knocking, knowing full well the Dark Lord himself is behind the door. You keep your gaze locked on the patterned carpet, letting the double, grand oak doors clatter closed behind you.

“Y/N!” Voldemort exclaims, clapping his hands together. You glance up, startled by the smile stretching across his face, the boy sitting across from him; Draco stares at you with wide eyes and an open mouth, glancing between you and the door as if expecting someone to follow.

You snap your gaze back to Voldemort, knowing the Dark Lord won't appreciate your lack of attention on him. “My Lord.”

“Where's Lucius?”

He knows where Lucius is. He's playing a game, pretending he has no idea what he's done, what he's been doing from the very moment you stepped into his presence and he saw potential within you.

“He's busy with some work, my Lord,” you respond, refusing to look at Draco despite your curiosity as to why he's here in the first place. “He told me to go on ahead.”

“Ah. That was nice of him.” Slowly, Voldemort leans back in his seat, tapping the tips of his fingers together. “Did you get his wand?”

“I left it with him, my Lord; made of elm, not really worth it.”

Voldemort grins even brighter; this is a good sign. You didn't take the wand. He thinks you're getting stronger, that your strange ability to use magic without a wand is growing. You can't tell him that it still pains you greatly, that you currently feel as if your ribcage is on fire, that you could keel over at any given moment.

“Very well,” Voldemort replies. “The choice was yours, of course. Come, Y/N – take a seat beside young Malfoy here. There's plenty of room.”

Draco shifts, keeping his cold gaze on you as you walk towards him and sit down. Your back is straight, heart thundering in your chest so loud you're almost certain you will not be able to hear whatever it is Voldemort has to say to you. Nonetheless, you keep your expression impassive, hands folded in your lap in any attempt to look as calm and collected as the Dark Lord expects you to be.

“My two prodigies,” Voldemort begins. The word sends a shiver of repulsion down your spine. “I don't think I've ever had the opportunity to speak to you both without my other Death Eaters lingering over my shoulder; isn't that bizarre, Draco?”

“Yes, m-my Lord.”

“I have to split my time evenly amongst you all, so forgive me if I find it a little difficult to give you the attention you both deserve so deeply.” He bows his head; Draco straightens up a little in his chair, but you're not falling for it. You've seen Voldemort do this multiple times in the past to the exact people he later murdered for miniscule reasons. “I see potential in you both. So much potential. It could be us against the world if you really put your mind to it.”

“Thank you, my Lord,” Draco mumbles, before shooting you a glance that tells you he's proud of the fact he spoke up and wants you to notice his achievement, too. You look back at him, trying for a tiny smile that falters the moment Voldemort starts speaking again.

“I want you both to stay close together,” he says. “Work hard, encourage each other, become the wizards I know you are capable of becoming.” Voldemort settles his red eyes on you. You try your hardest not to falter beneath his gaze. “Let's take over the world together, shall we?”

And that's all he needs to say. He smiles that sickly smile of his and dismisses you and Draco with a simple flick of his pale hand. You stand up immediately, whirling and darting towards the door; you don't want to be in his presence any longer than you have to be, and you feel much too ill to try and hide that fact.

“Y/N! Y/N, wait!”

“Not now, Draco.”

He grabs your wrist as the doors to his fathers office clamber closed, leaving you alone in the wide, emerald green hallway. You freeze, resisting the urge to flinch away from him, but only because his grip feels so secure, fingers soft against your racing pulse.

He must notice the evidence of panic beating beneath his fingers, as his words falter and he glances down to where your flesh meets. It's when he starts tilting his head, when you can see the question forming upon his tongue, that you rip your hand from his and whirl around. “What do you want, Draco?”

His eyes snap up. “He sent my father to your dungeon. He said – He said something about the-”

“Cruciatus Curse, yes.” You spin, starting back down the hallway. Judging by the hurried footsteps sounding behind you, Draco has decided to follow.

“Well, are – are you alright? I didn't hear any commotion, but the dungeon is just below my fathers office – I would have heard something-”

“Lucius Malfoy is currently paralysed on the floor of his own prison.”

Draco falters. “What?”

“The Dark Lord wanted to test me, and I passed.” You shoot Draco a glance, noting the colour drained from his face. “Don't worry; he's still alive. A simple Stunning spell, just to prove my point. He'll no doubt be attempting to suffocate me in my sleep by nightfall.”

Draco pauses. The puzzle pieces are there, but he's clearly struggling to put them all together. He keeps pace with you, however, as you march out into the garden, bursting into the fresh air with a deep inhale that you hope can chase this dreaded headache away.

“My father is a very powerful wizard, Y/N,” Draco says. You close your eyes, resisting the urge to rub your temples. He just wants answers; you can't blame him for that. It was only a few years ago you were cursed by the same curiosity. “Don't take offence, but I can't see how you managed to overpower him.”

“It was simple enough.”

Draco shakes his head, pulling more pieces to the front, pieces that just don't fit. “Hold on – you don't even have a wand, do you? He took it. The – The Dark Lord-”

“Yes, He has my wand.”

Your head is going to split in two; you can feel it, that unmistakeable pressure rushing to the forefront, the fresh air doing nothing but poking and prodding at a pain that was already present. You close your eyes tighter still, crumbling against a tree despite your fragile attempts to catch yourself.

Draco grunts at the sudden movement, darting forward to catch you with little effect. “Y/N?”

“I'm fine.”

“No, you're not. You're burning up.” He places the back of his hand against your forehead, eyes immediately widening. “You're really burning up.”

“I'm fine.” Maybe if you repeat yourself, what you're saying will become truth.

Draco, however, is a smart boy. He crouches down, dragging you to the floor along with him; you wriggle in his grip, whispering “I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine,” but your fight is only for show. Sitting in the grass is doing you wonders, and you soon find yourself drearily slipping against Draco's shoulder, sinking into this new found relaxation.

“What's happening?” he asks, keeping his palm against your forehead for a moment. “I need to bring someone out. I need to get a medic-”

“I'm fine,” you repeat, the words nothing more than a slur at this point. “I promise, Draco – it will pass.”

Draco opens his mouth to protest, but taking one look at your face has the words dispelling in the air between you. He gives in with a sigh, leaning back against the tree, holding you against his shoulder so you can hear his heartbeat ringing in your ears. You desperately want to pull away; being this close to someone is uncomfortable, not what you're used to, and yet your body is too weak to do such a thing. You sink into the humiliation for a little while, gathering your strength before Voldemort comes out and sees you in such a state.

“What did he mean when he told us to stay together?”

Draco's voice wobbles, and you can tell the question has been playing on his mind for a while.

“He wants us to learn from each other,” you mumble into his blazer. “Make each other stronger. He sees potential in us – that's why he ordered you to kill Dumbledore.”

Draco stiffens. “How did you know about that?”

“I see everything that happens behind the scenes.”

“I still don't understand that.”

You lift your eyes, stare into the side of his face as he gazes out at the gorgeous garden you are sitting in right now. “What don't you understand?”

“Why he trusts you so much.” Draco looks down, eyes meeting yours. “He has prisoners of Azkaban on his side – some of the worst people on the planet. He's got murderers and torturers and. . . and god only knows what else. And yet it's you he calls into his office. It's you he sees potential in-”

“You and me both.”

Draco scoffs, looking back out at the garden. “He would never trust me to touch Nagini. He would never let me just walk into his quarters without notice.”

“It's little perks, Draco. Hardly anything you should be fretting over.”

He scowls, shifting beneath you. Your cheek rubs against his blazer, and you make to pull away before your spine screams in protest and you slump back against him.

Draco doesn't seem to notice your weakness as he continues. “I'm just new to all of this.”

“We were all new at some point.”

“How long does it take to settle in?”

“I'm still trying to work that one out.”

Draco sighs. You don't know if he notices how his grip suddenly tightens around your shoulders, but you don't tell him either way.

“When you went missing...”

The conversation change works as an electric shock. You jolt, eyes lifting. “No, Draco. I don't want to talk about that.”

“Why not?”

“Because it's not important – you know now that I didn't just drop off the face of the earth. That's all you need to know – and I certainly don't need to know how people reacted.”

Draco opens his mouth, can't seem to find the words and instead takes to shaking his head slowly. “They were worried, Y/N. The whole school was making inquiries about your whereabouts – even the Potter kid and his group of lackeys.”

You scoff, finally drawing the strength to pull away from him and sit on your own. “They were just excited to have a mystery to sink their teeth into.” Draco hums. “Maybe. But that doesn't mean they weren't worried.” He pauses. “I was worried.”

The chill in the air increases. In the distance, the grand apple tree sways gently in the breeze, a gathering of white peacocks drifting back and forth through the grass.

“You didn't know me,” you say.

“I knew you, Y/N. The Slytherins were a close bunch.”

“I was more than just a Slytherin. I was different. I wasn't like the rest of you.”

“That's why you stood out. That's why I cared.”

You close your eyes. “Death Eaters aren't meant to care.”

That shuts him up. You feel the air tighten to your left, his mouth snapping closed, this sentimental mood he's in immediately shutting down with such a simple, obvious statement. You glance at him, noting his tense jaw before you push yourself up, using the tree as leverage.

“I'm going back up to the house. Lucius should be coming back around any minute now,” you say. “Shall I tell him where you are?”

Draco shakes his head. “He doesn't care. He's a Death Eater.”

You stare at the top of his pale head for only a moment longer before turning on your heel and leaving, trying to ignore the thumping of your heart and the uncertainty in your actions. You've never before struggled to leave someone wallowing in their own pity, but there was just something about the way Draco looked – the way he was speaking – that makes you feel like perhaps you should have stayed.

----

“You will use my wand for today's lesson.”

You pluck Bellatrix's wand from her outstretched hand. “Thank you, ma'am. A walnut wand, is it? Dragon heartstring core?”

Bellatrix swats your nose. “Don't be picky. You'll make do with what you've got, do you understand, you little brat?”

You give the Death Eater your best smile in reply. Draco shifts uncomfortably at your side.

Bellatrix hums, pacing back and forth in front of her two students – honestly, you don't understand why Voldemort placed her as your tutor. She has a temper, shows no mercy when it comes to her victims, and these are all traits Voldemort surely places as very important, but she also gets lost in her own head – to the point where the majority of her lessons are put together with her screaming spells and Draco on the verge of tears.

It's been a week and a half since the last time you did magic without a wand, a week and a half since you convinced Voldemort you're ready to take the next step; it was a mistake leaving that office with him thinking you were strong. Your lessons are now beyond your capability, and as Bellatrix paces back and forth in front of you, you can feel the tingle of a headache racing to your skull, fragments of the damage you did to Lucius a few days ago.

The lesson starts off as it always does; a duel between you and Draco. You let him win this time, since he let you win yesterday, and the two of you move on pretty sharply. There's no point wasting time duelling something with equal skill to you – you want the lesson to be over as quick as possible.

Draco drags himself up from the floor, both of you ignoring Bellatrix's hysteric screeching. He gives you a wink, turns to Bellatrix and says, “What's next?”

She goes quiet immediately, narrowing her eyes at her nephew before she moves onto the next stage of the lesson.

“Alright, kiddies,” she says, continuing her pacing. “Today we're going to be trying something a little different. One of you will be moving onto bigger, more challenging defence spells whilst the other will be moving onto bigger, more challenging ways of blocking.”

You raise a brow. “Blocking, ma'am?”

She smirks, crooked teeth showing between a pair of red lips. “I'll have my wand back now, Y/N. You won't be needing it for this section of the lesson.”

Your heart plummets.

Draco looks between you and the teacher in confusion. “How will Y/N do magic without a wand?”

Bellatrix doesn't take her eyes off you, and that's proof enough that she knows the answer. Voldemort must have told her of your abilities, the magic built up inside you that can be released without the use of a wand. He must have told her to help, to train you up, because he thinks you can do it with no problem.

You tug Bellatrix's wand into your chest and shake your head. “Not today, ma'am. Please, not today.”

Draco perks up. “What's going on?”

Bellatrix surges forward. Her black nails dig into your collarbone when she snatches her wand back into her possession, ignoring your startled cry of “Please!” She doesn't understand – none of them understand because you refuse to tell any of them about what is going on, how badly using that type of unnatural magic destroys you.

“Draco,” Bellatrix snaps. “Sectumsempra. An easy enough spell, but it does plenty of damage.”

“I know,” Draco grumbles.

“That is the spell we will be using today, courtesy of Severus Snape.” Bellatrix turns to you, grin growing when she notices your trembling hands, your stiff demeanour. “Y/N, today it will be your job to block that spell using your abilities. Is that what we should be calling them? That makes you sound a little bit more special than you really are.” She throws her head back and cackles.

Draco glances at you. “Y/N?”

“I'm fine,” you croak out. “Just get it over with.”

You know you can do it. You've blocked spells without a wand before. It's the aftermath that frightens you, the aftermath that rips you apart.

You take a step back, turning to face Draco who continues staring at you with a raised brow. His wand is in his hand, pointed at you, ready, but he isn't making a move to do anything. He just stands there, as if waiting for you to give the signal that everything is okay.

And you want to. You know you should, because Bellatrix is getting impatient and her pacing is getting quicker and quicker, her crazed uttering getting louder and louder – but you can't. You want him to keep standing there, want him to continue staring so you can build your strength up for just one more second-

“Sectumsempra!”

Bellatrix's spell comes out of nowhere. Draco cries out, but you're quick; you spin on your heel, collecting as much strength as you possibly can. A barrier breaks from your skin, and the green light cast from Bellatrix's wand reels back, smashing against the lamp in the corner of the dining room. It smashes, glass raining down upon the floor as Draco sprints towards you.

“What the hell?” he cries.

It takes a minute for the nausea to rise. For a single, blissful moment, the room goes blurry, and you can deal with that. There is no pain, no shock, no sickness. For a single moment, you are floating.

And then it crashes upon you all at once.

Your knees buckle. Bright lights flash behind your eyes until you can see nothing but your own hand darting out, grabbing for Draco. He catches you mere seconds before you fall, and yet you still feel your knees crashing against the marble floor. Your fingers twist in the soft fabric of his shirt, and he's there, whispering in your ear, or maybe he isn't whispering, he's screaming, crying out, but you can't hear him properly because there is something pop pop popping in the back of your head and it's all you can focus on, all you can cling to to stop the world from disappearing for good.

It's a reminder, you know. A reminder that your form of magic is dangerous, unpredictable, unusual, and you shouldn't possess it. No wizard should be able to do magic how you can, how you so desperately wish you couldn't.

“What's wrong, Y/N? Tell me what's wrong! Bella, what is wrong?”

Your eyes slip closed. Draco repeats the same word over and over again: “No.” It's a mantra, a lullaby that stirs you to sleep even though he's tapping your face, trying to force consciousness into your body. You're too weak for that now, and it's with a grunt that you finally slip beneath the waves that have been pulling you under for years.

----

You wake up back in your dungeon, and he is there.

You knew he would be. You would have been foolish to believe he hadn't got news of your downfall the very moment it happened; Bellatrix most likely relayed the story to him in great, great detail, laughing the entire time.

He's standing over you when you wake up, a ghost in the darkness. He's dressed in a set of grey robes, and your wand is twirling in his fingers. His red eyes stare as you sit up, though he offers no assistance, not even when you wince and press your fingers to your abdomen.

Everything hurts, but at least you're not dead.

“My lord,” you manage, voice weak and hoarse. “What an honour it is to have your presence in my-”

“Be quiet, Y/N.” His voice is calm, smooth, too casual. “You embarrassed me, Y/N. Terribly.”

You swallow and nod; you're too scared to speak right now.

“I have been singing your praises to my Death Eaters for a long time; Bellatrix was disappointed. She expected a lot more from you.” He runs a hand over his bald head. “As was I.”

“Where is Draco, my Lord?” The question is out before you can process it.

Voldemort's eyes cast down to where you cower in front of him. “You worry about the Malfoy boy in a time like this? How sweet. How caring. How human.”

“No, my Lord. It was just curiosity that-”

“Draco has done a wonderful job in his lessons. No harm will come of him.” Voldemort stands up a little straighter, as if to make himself more intimidating. “He was awfully distraught when you collapsed, however. Have you both been bonding over these lessons you partake in together?”

Your heart skips. “No, m-my Lord.”

“And now you're stuttering. You never stutter when speaking to me, Y/N. Is this line of questioning making you nervous?”

You don't even bother with a response this time, instead casting your eyes to the knotted hands in your lap.

Voldemort sighs. “I should have expected, of course. Two young people, the world at their disposal – you don't understand the consequences of love yet.”

“I do, my Lord. You have taught me plenty in my time with you.”

“I have.” Voldemort nods solemnly. “Such a shame you do not listen.”

Your head snaps up; this is what you wanted to avoid. “I'm sorry if you feel that way, my Lord, but I make it a priority to put your advice into action whenever I can.”

Voldemort hums. “So you claim not to have feelings for the Malfoy boy?”

You don't understand why your denial is so difficult to articulate; you don't. You can't. You and Malfoy have lived in two very different worlds, experienced two very different lives; it would be bizarre to even think those two lives could mingle with one another, come together as one.

“No, my Lord. I do not.”

“So you would not care if I were to order his execution?”

Your head snaps up so fast your neck cricks. “Why would you do that? He's useful to you. He – He's a strong wizard, my lord, he can serve you in very useful ways-”

“It sounds as if you're sticking up for him.”

“No, my Lord, of course not! You are free to do as you please, but I wish you would just look a little deeper into-”

Voldemort holds up a silencing hand. Your heart thunders, fingers curling into fists as you try your hardest to bite your tongue; he's right, of course – you cannot be sticking up for Draco, especially if it means going against Voldemort to do so. You don't care about him that much.

You can't.

“If I am forced to pick between you or the Malfoy boy, the Malfoy boy will be the first to go,” he says. “You must know that, Y/N. You're too valuable to just throw away for a particularly skilled wizard. I don't want skill – I want something the wizarding world has never seen before, and you are the perfect candidate.” He sighs. “It's such a shame you've fallen into the trap of love.”

You squeeze your eyes closed; there is a denial on your tongue, but Voldemort knows when you are lying, and he will not be pleased to hear such false statements coming from your mouth.

“I want to see you working harder,” he continues, tapping your wand against the concrete wall behind him. “I want to see your strength improving. I want to take you into war with me, Y/N. And soon. We've wasted enough time as it is.”

You nod slowly. Voldemort smiles, skin stretching, your stomach turning, but you say nothing as he nods at you a final time and walks out of the dungeon.

And you know there's no hope for you here.

For years you've tried avoiding the truth, but now Draco has been added to the equation and denial is no longer a possibility; you've tried your hardest to show strength, to convince yourself you can be just like them, but it's not working. It will never work. You were not built for the life of a Death Eater, and such things have never been so clear as they are now.

The door above you clambers shut. You push yourself up, gripping the wall to stop yourself falling, your head pulsing with the aftershocks from your last lesson with Bellatrix. You're driven by your masters words, the threat behind them, the risk you are taking by staying here when you feel these things for the boy you barely even know.

But that isn't really true, is it?

You know Draco better than you will ever be willing to admit. He was your schoolmate, a Slytherin, a part of your life long before Voldemort was a part of your life. He's one of the few people on earth who can relate to the things you've been through, the things you're still going through, because he's going through nearly the exact same thing.

And that's why you have to leave. That is why you can't stay here. You won't be able to disguise your fondness for him, and Voldemort will see that, and he will end it all. He will kill Draco without a second thought if he believes it will make you stronger.

You drag yourself to the top of the stairs and shove the door open. The hallways are empty, the only sound being Peter's hysterical laughter ringing out in the room above you; he does that sometimes, though nobody knows why.

You shuffle along the corridor as quietly as you can, keeping tight to the emerald green walls as you search for the door leading to Draco's bedroom. You have seen it only a handful of times, but the door becomes instantly recognisable as soon as you see it; wooden, glittering with protection spells, a brass knocker stamped in the centre. You don't even bother using the knocker, instead shoving your shoulder into it and stumbling inside.

Draco spins around. He was pacing. There is sweat on his upper lip, his top button undone to reveal sweat soaked collarbones. His white hair is sticking up as if he's been running his hands through it continuously.

He looks scared.

You kick the door closed. “Draco.” It's all you can manage, all your brain will let free at this moment in time.

Draco rushes to your side immediately, grabbing your arm and directing you to the massive, plush bed pushed against the back wall. “Y/N? Y/N, are you okay? What are you doing up so soon after the accident?”

“I'm fine.”

“Stop saying that.” He presses a hand to your cheek, tilting your head up so he can get a better view of your eyes. “God, you look like you're about to keel over. Let me go grab my mother and she will-”

You latch onto his wrist when he tries to stand. “We need to leave, Draco.”

He pauses. Beneath your fingers, his pulse quickens. Slowly, he turns his head and narrows his eyes, inspecting your face for any sign of humour, any sign that you're just telling a joke to ease the tension forever in the air.

“We need to leave,” you repeat, quieter this time. “Now. Or – or as soon as we can. I won't be able to Disapparate, but you-”

Draco shakes his head. “What are you going on about?”

“We need to leave!” you bark. “He thinks we're both useful, but he wants us under his thumb. He wants to control us, Draco, and we need to leave before he gets that control.”

You're not making any sense. You know that. You can see in the tilt of Draco's head and the paleness of his face that he has absolutely no idea where all of this is coming from, why you have suddenly changed sides.

You close your eyes, pressing your fingers to your temples. “I will explain everything,” you mumble. “I promise, I will explain every single thing, but we have to get out of here first. It won't be long before he sees I'm not in the dungeon any more, and he'll know immediately where I've gone – and then it's not just me he's going to be angry at.”

Slowly, Draco lowers himself onto the bed, his eyes never leaving your face. “O-okay.”

Your head whips around. “Really?”

“When do you want to leave?”

You shake your head dumbly, still struggling to process his quick agreement. “As – As soon as-”

“You're too weak to Disapparate.” He stands, grabbing your hand. “I'll do it, but we've got to be quiet. My father knows when anyone is making moves in or out of the house – it will only take seconds for him to notify Voldemort someone is gone.”

You stand on trembling legs; Draco notices your struggle and wraps a secure arm around your waist, dragging you into his side.

“Are you sure you're going to be okay?”

“I didn't expect you to agree so quickly,” you whisper.

Draco purses his lips, sending a final glance towards the door. “I – I think I may have marched into this life a bit too soon. I didn't fully understand what I was getting myself into.” He glances at you, faces inches apart. “But if you say we need to leave, we're leaving.”

Something jolts in your chest, something you haven't felt in a very, very long time – if ever. Draco doesn't seem to notice the effect his words have on you as he tightens his hold on your waist and says, “Now, I'm new to this Apparating business, so just bare with me. Are you ready?”

“Let's go.”

Draco inhales deeply, closes his eyes and you watch the world shift around him. Suddenly, Draco is the driving force; your body goes numb, his fingers tightening against your flesh. Your own eyes slip closed of their own accord, your body tipping and screaming and aching – but it all lasts for only a second, and then your feet are slamming against grass and you're slipping out of Draco's grip and crumbling to your knees in the middle of an area you cannot place when your head is hurting so bad.

You groan, falling to your elbows. Draco slips to the ground and grabs you, pulling you into him. “It's okay. It's over, it's over. We made it. We've just got to keep going a little bit further.”

“Where are we?” you grumble.

“Hogwarts.”

Your head snaps up. “Draco, no.”

He grabs your arm and pulls you up; he looks just as ruffled as you, his hair still sticking on end, his hands trembling. He bites his lower lip before responding. “We'll figure it out. They won't come to Hogwarts tonight – not with the security. We'll be safe for tonight, and tomorrow we can – we can figure it all out.”

You resist the temptation to argue; there's really no point. Neither of you are fit enough to go wandering through Hogsmeade, anyway – staying the night in Hogwarts is your best bet whether you want to admit it or not.

In truth, you know your discomfort with being back at Hogwarts has little to do with the fact that Voldemort will know this is the place you and Draco escaped to. You don't care about that; you can deal with Voldemort when the time comes, when Draco is safe, but the memories latched onto this place make you hesitant when crossing through the gates you were once so familiar with.

You remember these hallways. You remember the sneers, people glaring purely because you were Slytherin. You remember hearing Death Eaters in your head, their screams for mercy in the cells of Azkaban before Voldemort rose again and freed them all. You remember sitting in the Great Hall, deciding once and for all that you weren't supposed to be a normal wizard – you weren't normal, were never going to be considered normal. You had no other choice in that moment – at fourteen years old – than to join the dark side.

What more could you lose?

Before you know it, you're slipping your hand into Draco's. He glances down, shocked by your timid actions, but does nothing more than give your hand a comforting squeeze. Together, the two of you walk through the doors of the castle.

And are immediately greeted by wands pointed directly at your faces.

Draco pulls back, raising your joined hands in a sign of surrender. His breathing is ragged, and if you listen closely, you can almost hear a rattle emerging with every breath, like he's getting some kind of sickness.

McGonagall slowly lowers her wand, staring at you, and it's only then do you remember – these people thought you had died.

You offer a bow. “Ma'am.”

“Y/N L/N,” McGonagall whispers. “Is this real?”

“It is, ma'am,” you respond. “And I've brought a little guest with me along the way. You might recognise him?”

Draco scowls. “I'm meant to be making the-”

McGonagall rushes forward and embraces you before Draco can finish; his hand unwinds from your own as you wrap your arms around the frail waist of your old Transfiguration teacher.

“Thank god you're safe! Thank god!”

You awkwardly pat her back; this kind of affection has been lost on you for many, many years, and you're not entirely sure how to reciprocate it. “Yes. Thank them.”

She pulls away, holding you at arms length. “Goodness, you must be starved. The both of you!”

“No, actually.” Draco steps forward and takes your hand again. “We just need a room, Professor. A room is all we're here for.”

McGonagall raises a brow, glancing at your joined hands. “I'm assuming there will be no explanation for us tonight?”

You smile lightly. “Soon, ma'am. But for now, we need – we need rest.” Your head thumps at the mention of rest, making you wince.

McGonagall sighs and nods. “Very well. Argus – lead these two students up to the Slytherin dormitories. Make sure they're well settled.”

Filch appears from behind the tall woman and starts towards the staircase leading from the main entry hall. Hand-in-hand, you and Draco follow.

“I wasn't expecting her to be so lenient with letting me back in,” Draco whispers.

“Why not?”

He glances over at Filch before lowering his voice even further. “She's not exactly too keen on my father.”

“Lucius?”

“He's a Death Eater, Y/N. I can bet you that all the teachers in this damn school think I'm going the same way.”

You raise a brow. Draco glances at you, blushes and rolls his eyes.

“I guess they're not exactly wrong...”

Filch leads the two of you directly to the Slytherin dormitories. He says the password, gives you and Draco a final once-over before the door swings open, granting you access. The common room is almost entirely empty, meaning you and Draco are free to make a direct cross to the guests quarters without being bothered.

As soon as the door to the room closes, you fall to the floor.

Not in pain or discomfort, but in relief; your brain is working at a million miles per hour, so many things to concentrate on flooding your system in the two seconds it takes for the door to shut behind you. Draco follows your lead, sliding to the floor and leaning his head back against the emerald green wall.

You stare at him. Just him, sitting there with his eyes closed, the column of his throat on show. Around his neck is an array of silver necklaces. On his wrist is the Dark Mark.

Subconsciously, you find yourself rubbing your own brand, engraved into your skin forever. It burns sometimes. You wonder if Draco's does, too.

As if sensing you staring at him, he opens his eyes and looks back at you. “We're out of there.”

You nod. “We are.”

“How do you feel?”

“Lost. I don't know what to do with myself.”

Draco hums like he understands, and maybe he does; he might not have bore the Dark Mark for as long as you have, but he was raised in a family of believers, a family of Death Eaters that brainwashed him into thinking evil was the only way forward.

He sighs and tilts his head back again. You could stare at him in this position forever, comfortable and content. You don't recall there ever being a time in which he possessed such human emotions.

“Why did you warn me?”

You blink. “What?”

“You came to my room and warned me about what he was planning. Why?”

“He told me he was going to kill you.” You say it so simply, and Draco takes it as such; he doesn't flinch, doesn't look at you in horror. He just nods, eyes slipping closed again.

“Makes sense. You were clearly the more powerful one.”

You scoff, crossing your feet at the ankles. “Oh, yes. Me collapsing really showed my true strength.”

“You're still young. You have magic that no other wizard possesses – I can see why he wanted to keep you around and not me.” He shrugs, eyes still closed. “Maybe you should have just let him get on with it.”

Your heart judders. “What do you mean?”

“You could have stayed, Y/N. Let him kill me. You would have been his right-hand man after that. Love him or hate him, he would have given you the world if it meant he could use your magic for himself.”

For a moment, you're convinced he's joking; you have to believe he's joking. You're aware you are powerful, that Voldemort would kill for the chance to use you as his own, but Draco surely can't believe you would just let him get murdered so you could live a better life?

“Did you not see the dungeon he kept me locked in?” The question is out before you can stop it. Draco opens his eyes, lifts his head to check if you're actually angry or not.

You're not even sure how you feel. Your clenched fists and furrowed brows, however, must convince Draco that he's said the wrong thing, as he immediately sits up straight and grabs your hands in his own. You flinch back, pulling your hands back to your chest.

“I didn't mean it like that,” he says quickly. “I shouldn't have said anything. I was just. . . I'm tired, okay? Very, very tired.”

You slowly lower your hands. “Yes, well, today has been a stressful day. We're probably better off going to sleep.”

Draco nods, pulling both of you up from the floor. Neither of you speak as you strip off your clothes and get into one of the single beds pressed against either wall; Draco turns the light off, drowning you both in darkness almost immediately.

----

It's been a while since your mind was free to have a nightmare.

The magic Voldemort puts you under has always suppressed dreams; most of the time, you wouldn't even count yourself as asleep. More knocked out. Perhaps unconscious. It's very rare you're in control enough to have a nightmare, and maybe that's for the best.

Tonight, however, the magic is gone and the nightmares take its place.

They're flashes, but they're bad. Bad, and gory, and they take the shape of memories because you see his face in every single one. You see his smile, those blood red eyes and that pale skin, a human destroyed by the power he craved for so many years. You know his story, and it replays in your head on a loop. You watch people scream, mouths open and eyes wide as his magic blasts them to pieces. You watch the Potters die on a loop. You watch an alternative ending where Harry himself is blown to smithereens, a child so innocent, taken so soon for a reason so selfish.

Everyone is screaming. It ricochets in your brain, echoing the horrors over and over again until you feel yourself screaming, too. It's the only way to beat them. You want to rip your throat out. You want to rip everyone elses throats out. You want this to end, please make it stop, you'll do anything-

“Y/N!”

Your eyes snap open.

There are no dramatics to waking up from a nightmare, not like they show in the movies. Your eyes snap open, and that is all; the sheets are tangled round your legs and Draco is standing over you, but you don't scream, don't lurch forward, don't gasp for air.

No. What they show in the films isn't real – it's all on the inside.

A thundering heart, sweat dripping down your face despite the night time chill. Once you're conscious, you reach for Draco's hands and drag them into your chest without explanation or warning, just needing to feel something, proof that you are out of that world and back in your own.

Draco leans forward, brushes a stray strand of hair out of your face. “Are you alright?”

It's such a simple question, and yet the answer is too complicated to contemplate right now; you simply look at him, lower lip trembling until he gets the message. His exhausted features soften, and it's with hesitant, shy steps that he peels the covers back and crawls into bed beside you.

He tugs the covers to your chin, but you grab them and pull them over your heads. Draco laughs softly, his breath fanning your face, calming you down. You close your eyes and curl against him, feeling his arms wrap around you despite you never telling him to do so.

And maybe that's what has you so enamoured by this boy; you have lived many years being the one everyone is afraid of. Death Eaters – genuine, real life criminals – were terrified to even talk to you without you talking to them first. They saw you as an attachment of the man they were supposed to fear, and so that instantly made them fear you, too. Nobody touched you. Nobody cared for you. Nobody dared go near you without permission first.

But Draco is here, bundling you in his arms purely because he can see that's what you need. He doesn't ask permission; he just looks in your eyes and he sees the tiny, helpless human that made a bad choice at a young age, and he doesn't feel the need to waste time asking.

In the darkness, his fingers tap at your wrist. You close your eyes, breath trembling when he slowly starts to roll your sleeve up until the area where your Dark Mark is engraved becomes exposed. He cannot see the mark in the darkness, but he doesn't need to see it to know it's there. He has no doubt looked at his own Dark Mark thousands upon thousands of times, can probably outline it from memory at this point.

He runs a finger along the skin, goosebumps following in his wake.

“Did it hurt?” he whispers.

“You know it did.”

He pauses. “Did you know then?”

And even though he has not specified what he means, you know he is talking about the regret – did you know then, as you were being pinned down, as the wand dug into your skin and make the mark now permanently etched into your flesh, that you were never meant to live that kind of life.

You nod against his chest, feel his breath leave him in one clean swoop.

“You got out of there, though,” he whispers. “I'm proud of you.”

That single phrase pushes you off the edge.

You lift your head from his chest, tipping the covers off you both. He opens his eyes just as you whisper “Lumos,” and the headache that strikes you is nothing when the light suddenly crackles to life and you look down and Draco is there, and he's just said he's proud of you, a sentence nobody has ever, ever said to you in your entire life.

It breaks your heart and mends it all at the same time.

He looks up at you, eyes wide. “Y/N? Are you-”

“Say that again.”

He pauses. “S-say what?” But he's slowly starting to grin, knowing full well what bit you want him to repeat, what part of his sentence was like music to your ears.

You sit up fully, bouncing just a tiny bit on your knees. God, you're like an excited schoolkid, an experience you were robbed of. “Please just say that again.”

Draco pushes himself up onto his elbows. “I'm proud of you.”

Your smile grows. “And again.”

Draco pushes himself up a little bit more, his own smile spreading. “I'm proud of you.”

You wrap your arms around his neck. “One more time.”

He pushes himself up entirely, face inches from your own. “I'm proud of you.”

You kiss him.

You don't know how it works, how any of this works, but it feels right nonetheless. Your lips against his, hands tightening around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer. He laughs gently against your mouth, his own hands rising so his fingertips tickle the edges of your throat.

It's easy to lose yourself in this, in him.

He is the first to pull away, his swollen, bright red lips taking the shape of a grin. You laugh, cupping his chin and swiping your thumb along his lower lip; he pretends to bite you.

“Where the bloody hell did that come from?” he asks breathlessly.

You shake your head. “I have no idea.”

“Are you going to keep doing it?”

You falter, smile fading just a bit. “D-do you want me to?”

Draco scoffs, and in response, he kisses you again.

The world is falling apart. Nothing is right and everything is wrong and Voldemort will never, ever be happy with this outcome, but for this moment, you can forget about all of that. Right now, it is just you and Draco, the captives finally set free.

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yellowmagicalgirl · 4 years ago

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(the garrote killing me is made of your) heartstrings

Wizards whose powers awaken at a young age stopped aging in their late teens until they meet their soulmate. That didn't mean that Douxie expected to meet his soulmate any time soon, however.

This was inspired by that one tumblr post where you start aging again when you meet your soulmate. Warning for discussions of death as well as mild body horror concerning Akiridion biology.

AO3

FFN

“So, how did you manage the whole living for 900 years thing?” Claire asked. The two of them were in Douxie’s old bedchambers; they spoke quietly to avoid waking Steve up.

“By taking it one day at a time,” Douxie said. Some of those days had been better than others. Some of those days the only thing that had kept Douxie alive was that one day, Merlin would come back and need Douxie.

“Er, I actually meant the fact that you haven’t aged from now to when we left Arcadia... I hate time travel.”

“Oh. That’s actually simpler. Wizards whose powers awaken at a young age stop aging in their late teens until they meet their soulmate. Then, if they want to gain their immortality back they have to kill their soulmate. I mean, it’s still really hard to kill a wizard if they’ve met their soulmate, but I just haven’t aged in about nine centuries.”

“How do you know, that someone’s your soulmate?”

Douxie blinked. That wasn’t a question he expected Claire to ask. “Why, I thought you had more faith in me. I would never kill my soulmate.”

Claire raised her hands apologetically. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that! I just... I guess you’ve never met yours, so it doesn’t matter, I’m sorry I asked.”

Douxie glanced toward the dungeon. She was probably asking about Jim. “There was this guy, back in the early nineteenth century, and at the time I thought he might’ve been my soulmate. Obviously, he wasn’t, but I loved him nonetheless. And like I said, if you have to struggle with immortality, then you have to take it one day at a time. Live in the moment. And yeah, outliving your loved ones is hard. But there’s upsides to immortality as well.”

Douxie walked into Hex Tech, thankful to see a short girl with pink hair pinned neatly into place. He didn’t trust any other hedge mage like he did Zoe. Douxie walked up to her. Her, and a boy at the front desk shoving something into a backpack.

And as he bore the wrath of the boy Douxie had technically cut in front of, Douxie felt something unlock deep within him.

Surely, it was just a feeling of familiarity, and safety, from being in a place where the Arcane Order wouldn’t find them.

Douxie came home to the shared studio apartment to find Archie and Nari talking in low voices. That... wasn’t exactly a good sign. It wasn’t automatically a bad sign, but it wasn’t exactly good.

“Douxie,” Archie said gravely as Douxie put away his keys. “Have you noticed anything different, in the past two months?”

“Uh, we’re in New York?” After a week of making their way around the continent and setting up false magical signatures for Nari, the three of them had buried themselves in a small, crowded part of New York City. The Arcane Order wouldn’t be able to find them here. Also, Merlin was dead as opposed to just asleep, but Douxie was trying not to think about that.

“Other than that,” Archie said. Douxie shook his head in response.

“You’re aging,” Nari said.

“What? No.” Douxie couldn’t be aging, he still had so much to do. He protected the Earth for about 900 years and he planned to keep doing so. He planned on protecting Nari for eternity if he needed to. If he was now mortal, then he wouldn’t be able to do so. “I don’t have time to be aging.”

“We all knew it would happen eventually,” Archie said. “Who do you think your soulmate is?”

“I...” The problem was, Douxie had only met one person whom Douxie had thought was his soulmate. That man died a little less than two centuries ago. It had been for the best, really. If Douxie’s lover had been his soulmate, he wouldn’t have been able to meet Merlin again in Arcadia Oaks. Who knew what he could accomplish if he lived long enough that he would still be around two centuries from now? “I don’t know.”

“Give me your hand,” Nari said, “and I can try to find them.”

Douxie obediantly stuck out his left hand, and Nari took it in her own. She closed her eyes. Her hands glowed with green light, and illusory vines wrapped around Douxie’s hand and floated in the air. The vines then disappeared, and her hands stopped glowing. Nari opened her eyes.

“That is strange,” Nari said. “I can sense the living soul of every being of this planet. But your soulmate is not one of them.”

“So... my soulmate is dead?” Despite Douxie’s frustration with aging, he still felt a shallow pang of grief. It wasn’t fair. If he had to once more age, then he’d want to meet and get to know the destined person that Douxie was intended to die for. And instead, he wouldn’t even get that.

“I do not know,” Nari said. “Your soulmate’s soul could be in the Shadow Realm, like Jim’s was.”

“We need to find a way to better hide you and the seals, or even find a way to defeat Bellroc and Skrael for good,” Douxie said. “The Arcane Order has forever. I’ve got, what? Eighty years?”

“Or longer, if we use the right spells, or...” Archie trailed off, looking away. Douxie frowned. It must be hard on Archie, to know that he would definitely outlive Douxie. Dragons could live for three or four millennia, after all.

“We can’t be sure, but we think that you might be aging slightly slower than the average human,” Nari said.

“Could it be because I died?” Nari and Archie flinched as the words left Douxie’s mouth.

“I don’t know,” Nari said. “You’ll have to give me time.”

That was something Douxie was running out of.

“So, I was thinking,” Claire said as she rummaged through Douxie’s pantry, looking for a snack. She was quite the prodigy, having progressed quite far in the year and seven months that Douxie had been training her. The two of them had come back to his apartment after setting up decoys for the Arcane Order in various locations across Central and South America. “Jim’s mentioned that he wants to find a way to return to his troll form, but not permanently. And my first thought was maybe making him a changeling, but then we’d have to kidnap someone.”

“Not a good idea,” Archie said. “Hand me that can of tuna?”

“Exactly,” Claire said as she passed along the can. “But, we might be able to adapt Akiridion transduction so Jim can choose if he wants to be a human or a troll. So, what do you say to bringing Krel into this project?”

“Sure,” Douxie said. A couple days after Douxie had left Arcadia Oaks, Steve had added Douxie to a group text with the other Guardians of Arcadia. Douxie and Krel had started talking on their own a couple months after that. It would be nice to see Krel in person again. “Do you or Jim want to ask him, or should I?”

Claire brought Krel with her through a shadow portal soon after noon the next Sunday. Krel looked around, fidgeting his fingers along the edge of his jaw. Douxie expected to be annoyed that in the time since Douxie and Krel had first met, Krel had grown taller in his Akiridion form. They were no longer the same height, which had been... oddly nice, for reasons Douxie couldn’t name. Krel was now tall enough that his hair brushed against the ceiling of the apartment. Douxie wondered if it naturally grew that way, or if Krel had to spend time using products to make it stand up. From all the time the two of them had texted each other, Krel didn’t seem like the type of guy to spend a lot of time and gel spiking his hair every day, and Douxie had once been the type of guy to spend a lot of time and gel each day, making sure his hair was nice and spiky.

A small pang of grief for his lost immortality came with the memory of the old, somewhat cringe-worthy hairstyle. Douxie had mostly adjusted to his newfound mortality, but it still hurt sometimes. He, Nari, and Archie still hadn’t made any progress on the topic of Douxie’s soulmate, either.

Douxie forced himself to stop staring at Krel. Yes, Krel was attractive in a way that caught him off guard. There was something about the way his face now looked that made him look regal, moreso than Arthur and Morgana had ever looked. Maybe it was the fact that his faceplate had finished detaching a week ago? Krel had complained over text a month or two ago that it was an uncomfortable process that signified the start of adulthood for a royal Akiridion.

“You’re...” Douxie trailed off. He wanted to say beautiful. “A little later than expected.”

“Yeah, sorry, Mass ran late,” Claire said. “So, how’d you want to get started, Teach?”

Six hours of three frustrated prodigies ignoring each other’s personal space as they debated schematics passed. While Akiridion technology and magic were surprisingly compatible, transduction wasn’t quite as compatible with human-and-troll biology as they had hoped. Still, they weren’t quite ready to give up. Well, not forever, anyways. Words were starting to stop making sense for Douxie, and he wouldn’t be surprised if the same was starting to more-or-less happen to the others as well. Douxie stifled a sigh. He didn’t want to be the one who bailed first, but he also got the feeling that if he didn’t say anything the three of them would continue attempting to work for another hour or two of increasingly angry conversation.

“Do you want to break for dinner any time soon?” Douxie asked.

“Please,” Claire said in a desperate, thankful tone, “I’m starved.”

“Wouldn’t it just be a late lunch?” Krel asked.

“Time zone difference,” Douxie said.

“Right, forgot, sorry,” Krel said. A year ago Krel had explained how time zones weren’t really a thing on Akiridion-V. Instead, all clocks were set to the same time as it was in the capitol, but depending on where on the planet you lived you might start your delson at a different time. That being said, the amount of artificial lighting on the planet meant that location didn’t quite matter for when people were supposed to be awake or asleep.

“Can we get pizza from that one place a block away?” Claire asked as she stretched. “You’ll love it, Krel.”

“Archie, Nari, we’re going out, you want to come?” Douxie called across the apartment.

“Bring me back something with anchovies!” Archie said. Claire wrinkled her nose.

“Give me a moment to put on my disguise!” Nari called. Krel activated his transduction. While Arcadians had gotten used to trolls and extraterrestrials, and New Yorkers were mostly unphased by Nari’s antlers, Krel’s four arms and glowing body might draw unwanted attention. Douxie swallowed in order to stifle a gasp.

If Krel had grown into a regal young man in his true form, as a human he had become a roguishly adorable sort of scruffy. Krel had grown his hair out into messy a chest length ponytail. He was an inch or two taller, too.

Nari walked over to them, disguised as an incredibly short human with a beanie that had antlers attached to it. There was probably something to be said about how a nature goddess was more focused on a game on her phone than her surroundings, but she was used to the layout of the apartment. Plus, she could sense the soul of every living being of the planet Earth. She wouldn’t bump into anything until they left the apartment. Then she’d have to be careful.

She bumped into Krel, and looked up, startled.

“Sorry, I didn’t...” Her eyes narrowed. “I didn’t sense you. You’re not from Earth, are you?”

“No, is it still that obvious?” Krel fidgeted with the ends of his ponytail.

“Not if you can’t sense souls,” Nari said. She gave Douxie a pointed look. He had no idea why.

Nari and Archie spoke in hushed enough to be somewhat worrying tones as Douxie got ready for work the next day.

“Should we tell him?” Nari asked.

“He’ll figure it out,” Archie said. “Or well, he should. If he doesn’t figure it out within a year, I guess we should tell him, but until then if he’s that oblivious it won’t hurt him.”

Douxie decided to ignore them and whatever they were talking about. His phone buzzed with a text from Krel, and Douxie smiled.

A/N: I decided to leave it ambiguous as to whether or not Jim and Claire are soulmates in this.

#krexie #claire nuñez #hisirdoux casperan #krel tarron #nari #toa archie #toawizards #toawizards spoilers #tales of arcadia #tales of arcadia spoilers #archie #drel #krouxie #my writing

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jaerie · 5 years ago

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Alpha Seeking Alpha (E, 4k, abo) Maybe it’s taboo, but Louis can’t stop thinking about a strong alpha holding him down and filling him with a knot. Louis may be alpha himself yet there’s a corner of the internet where he can get what he wants. He finally has the courage to do it.

And the Truth Shall Set You Free (Maybe…) (E, 18k, abo) Betism: A religion based on the belief that the beta gender has been chosen by God to protect and defend the purity and dignity of the human race by resisting and condemning the lustful ways and flawed biology of the alpha and omega

Harry is a Betist and Louis is an alpha who runs with a bad crowd. This is what happens when two worlds collide.

Captain Jack (E, 32k, abo) Louis has been searching for something and Harry is there to give it to him. Drugs, sex, disappointment, and the tangled web they’ve woven that keeps them trapped in the same cycle.

Everything Comes Back To You (10k, abo) Louis was only seven when he found himself in a hospital bed alone and scared, confused about what was happening. When another little boy climbed into his bed to comfort him, Louis never thought that they would be meeting again later in life. He also never imagined that their roles would be reversed the second time around.

Everything I need I get from you (M, 10k, abo) In a world where music and sound are just as vital to health as food, Harry is stuck in a town that thinks professional music is a scam and a relationship he never wanted. One chance event changes his life.

Going Live (E, 15k) Harry has only done this cam thing a handful of times when another camboy pops in to view his stream and unintentionally stirs things up a bit.

Or Louis and Harry are both camboys for some extra cash and meet each other in an unconventional way

I’m Sure It Happens To All Alphas (E, 4k, abo) “It’s okay. I’m sure it happens to all alphas at some point,” the omega beside him said which only embarrassed him even more.

The thing was that this was not how Louis expected their first time together to play out. Especially after he’d been fantasizing about it for so long.

But let’s jump back to the beginning.

or Louis has trouble popping a knot

Just Jump (E, 10k, abo) Finally, after years of suffering alone, the insurance plan at Harry’s new job covered omega heat services. As a grown omega adult, it finally felt like the right time to try it out. And, since taking an entire week of heat leave would really put him behind at work, using a service to shorten it seemed like a responsible decision. At least that’s how he rationalized it. He was nervous about his decision but it was too late. The doorbell rang.

“Hi!” The alpha said again and Harry took the hand he offered and shook it firmly. “I’m Louis from Omega Services. It’s nice to meet you.”

20 more fics below...

Knot Safe For Work (E, 6k, abo) The world is magical, Louis is a wizard, Harry is a Were, there are spells for lube and supernatural kinks are definitely a thing.

Merry Birthday (10k, abo) Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson have unfortunate soulmarks branded onto their skin. The first words their soulmate will ever speak to them are two of the most common greetings, so common that they don’t even notice when it finally happens for real.

A Christmas soulmate AU.

OmegaVision (E, 24k, abo) Tomlin Networks Presents: OmegaVision starring Louis Tomlinson! The world’s first 24/7 reality channel available in over 150 countries worldwide following the life of the first male omega born in over a century. Follow Louis through his daily routine, the ups and downs of growing up or just leave him on for comfort. There are many reasons to tune in but, no matter what yours may be, there’s always a part of Louis that is just like you!

Or a Truman Show au that nobody asked for where Louis is Truman and Harry just wants to be his mate

Out of the Wild (E, 21.5k, abo) Louis has spent most of his life as a wolf in the wild, Harry has spent most of his life as a human in the city. Their worlds collide during the audition process for the hottest new singing competition. What happens next should have expected.

Out With The Old, In With The New (E, 7k, abo) Harry becomes the pack’s new alpha and Louis can’t wait to be bred

The Post-War BP (E, 18k, abo) The eight year war has left the country’s birthrate severely stunted with a lack of virile alphas left to bring it back up. To ensure the survival of the country, the government opens The Breeding Program where young omegas can apply to carry an alpha’s child in exchange for benefits. Louis’ family is struggling and the BP is one of the only ways to secure a roof over their heads. Harry was drafted at the age of eighteen and spent six years of his life defending a country he doesn’t recognize when he returns home. The government made the bed but it’s Harry that has to lie in it.

Restless Lane (E, 15k, abo) Louis had grown used to his boring life back in Mississippi as a stand-in father figure to his siblings. He never expected his childhood friend to show up on his lawn with the heat of summer or that he would remind Louis how much of himself he'd tucked away and neglected. He also never expected to find himself caught up in a tangled web of feelings or secrets that just might break him. Maybe he had never known Harry at all.

Save Some Luck For Me (E, 10.5k, abo) Louis arrives at the 2018 Winter Olympics to make history as the first omega to win a gold medal at the games. Harry, his oiled up crush from the Summer Olympics, just happens to show up to sabotage him, but maybe helps him win in the end.

Sisterwives (E, 33k, abo) This was it, the moment Louis had been waiting for his entire life. Giddy excitement bubbled up as he held hands and stared up at his soon-to-be alpha and husband and grinned. The ceremony was small and simple, but Louis didn’t mind. Fresh flowers pinned into his hair and a brand new outfit was all he needed to feel special in front of their few witnesses. It was just some members of his family and a few of the church elders in attendance as was customary for any marriage beyond the first wife within the faith.

First wives were the ones to have elaborate weddings with the whole community involved. An alpha’s first wedding was a celebration of an their coming of age, his first steps into fulfilling God’s prophecy. There were many glories for an omega that came with being a first wife but also many responsibilities. Louis had never aspired to be a first wife or even a second. He wasn’t experienced enough to be the leader of an alpha’s many wives and children and he didn’t think he’d be up to the task.

Louis was just fine in the position he was stepping into as the seventh.

Or Louis thinks he's getting everything he's ever dreamed of. Harry helps him find what makes him truly happy.

Stay Close, Hold Steady (E, 27k, abo) Found on the banks of the Mississippi as an toddler, Harry goes on a quest to find his biological family. Louis tries to be supportive, but maybe he just doesn’t want to be left behind.

Take What’s Mine (E, 15k, abo) Years after he is kidnapped, his life altered forever, Louis goes through the motions in a way that barely feels like living. Harry is a wild card, a forbidden fruit that Louis swore off of before he even had a chance to experience it. Maybe, in the end, Harry holds the key to being reborn. Louis just has to be open to the idea first.

Tell Me That You Want It Cause I Already Know (E, 3.8k, abo) Who knew all it would take was some good ole porn for Louis to discover his friend, Harry, is a wolf and for it to awaken an urge that would bring them together in a way he hadn’t anticipated.

Tiny Exaggeration (E, 4k, abo) Louis is frustrated that they've been dating for months and still haven't taken their relationship to the next level. Sometimes the foolishness of the past lingers in the present. Louis wants that to change.

Was It All Fake? (E, 4k, abo) Unmated omegas are second class citizens. Expected to provide for themselves yet paid so little that they often are overworked or forced to sell their bodies just to keep from starving. Louis’ luck turns around when he meets Harry, the rich heir to a fortune. After their bonding ceremony, things aren’t exactly what Louis expected.

Where Do We Go Now (E, 10k, abo) Louis goes off to college ready to start a fresh life away from the oppressive alphas of his pack. The odds aren’t in his favour when his new dorm mate turns out to be an alpha. Louis hates alphas.

The Wilds (E, 13k, abo) The creatures that Louis observed every day weren’t exactly human, but yet they were. Researchers had plucked some of them from their secluded island and transplanted them into an enclosure against their will like a bunch of zoo animals. Louis didn’t think they were. But he was only paid to do the yardwork, he didn’t have any say about the wilds that lived there. That was until an unfortunate accident changed his life forever and made one wild in particular his top priority.

Woke Up Feeling Knotty (E, 8k, abo) Beta Louis has a kink for knotting and the secret aesthetic porn blog he runs about it is more than proof. When he accidentally finds out his alpha best friend Harry is one of his biggest fans, he knows he has to come clean after everything that has already happened between them. Harry just might be willing to help him out anyway.

You Gotta Swim, Swim For Your Life

Swim When It Hurts - Part One (M, 12k, abo) Harry never thought he would find himself battling cancer. Louis never thought he would find himself so attached to one of his patients.

Swim When It Hurts - Part Two (E, 6k, abo) Harry never thought he would find himself battling cancer. Louis never thought he would find himself so attached to one of his patients. Neither one of them thought they would find love in such an unlikely place.

Swim When It Hurts - Part Three (E, 7k, abo) Harry never thought he would find himself battling cancer. Louis never thought he would find himself so attached to one of his patients. Neither one of them thought they would find love in such an unlikely place. Maybe things weren’t ideal, but finding strength in a new kind of normal together may be just what they need.

#my fics #masterpost #self rec

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dramabitposts · 4 years ago

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The best movie quotes of all-time

Here are some of the best Hollywood movie quotes of all time. Talk about dramatic one-liners!

“Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn (Gone with the Wind, 1939)

“Here’s looking at you, kid” (Casablanca, 1942)

“You’re gonna need a bigger boat” (Jaws, 1975)

“May the Force be with you” (Star Wars, 1977)

“Toto, I’ve a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore” (The Wizard of Oz, 1939)

“I’m going to make him an offer he can’t refuse” (The Godfather, 1972)

“Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine.” (Casablanca, 1942)

“You talkin’ to me?” (Taxi Driver, 1976)

“There’s no place like home” (The Wizard of Oz, 1939)

“The first rule of Fight Club is you do not talk about Fight Club” (Fight Club, 1999)

“I am your father” (Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back, 1980)

“Hello. My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die.” (The Princess Bride, 1987)

“Why so serious?” (The Dark Knight, 2008)

“I’ll have what she’s having” (When Harry Met Sally, 1989)

“This is the beginning of a beautiful friendship” (Casablanca, 1942)

“We’ll always have Paris” (Casablanca, 1942)

“Bond. James Bond” (Dr No, 1962)

“I see dead people” (The Sixth Sense, 1999)

“I’ll be back” (The Terminator, 1984)

“You can’t handle the truth!” (A Few Good Men, 1992)

“E.T phone home” (ET, 1982)

“Yippie-ki-yay, mother f**ker!” (Die Hard, 1988)

“To infinity and beyond!” (Toy Story, 1995)

“Houston, we have a problem” (Apollo 13, 1995)

“You had me at hello” (Jerry Maguire, 1996)

“There’s no crying in baseball!” (A League of Their Own, 1992)

“Here’s Johnny!” (The Shining, 1980)

”I am serious. And don't call me Shirley.” (Airplane, 1980)

“Mrs. Robinson, you're trying to seduce me, aren't you?” (The Graduate, 1967)

“Carpe Diem. Seize the day, boys” (Dead Poets Society, 1989)

“Leave the gun, take the cannoli” (The Godfather, 1972)

“Show me the money!” (Jerry Maguire, 1996)

“Say hello to my little friend” (Scarface, 1983)

”You've got to ask yourself one question: 'Do I feel lucky?' Well, do ya punk?” (Dirty Harry, 1971)

“I love the smell of napalm in the morning.” (Apocalypse Now, 1979)

”Fasten your seatbelts. It's going to be a bumpy night.” (All About Eve, 1950)

“Roads? Where we're going we don't need roads.” (Back to the Future, 1985)

”You don't understand! I could've had class. I could've been a contender. I could've been somebody, instead of a bum, which is what I am.” (On the Waterfront, 1954)

“I'm as mad as hell, and I'm not going to take this anymore!” (Network, 1976)

”The greatest trick the devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn't exist.” (The Usual Suspects, 1995)

“Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer.” (The Godfather Part II, 1974)

”Every time a bell rings, an angel gets his wings.” (It’s a Wonderful Life, 1946)

“I am big! It's the pictures that got small.” (Sunset Boulevard, 1950)

”What we've got here is a failure to communicate.” (Cool Hand Luke, 1967)

“Shaken, not stirred” (Goldfinger, 1964)

“I’m the king of the world!” (Titanic, 1997)

“Mama says, 'Stupid is as stupid does.’” (Forrest Gump, 1994)

“Just keep swimming (Finding Nemo, 2003)

“If you built it, he will come” (Field of Dreams, 1989)

“I'm not bad. I'm just drawn that way.” (Who Framed Roger Rabbit, 1988)

“I’m having an old friend for dinner” (The Silence of the Lambs, 1991)

”Play it, Sam. Play 'As Time Goes By.’“ (Casablanca, 1942)

”I'll get you, my pretty, and your little dog, too!” (The Wizard of Oz, 1939)

“Hasta la vista, baby” (Terminator 2: Judgement Day, 1991)

“The Dude abides” (The Big Lebowski, 1998)

“I'm also just a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking him to love her.” (Notting Hill, 1999)

”Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain!” (The Wizard of Oz, 1939)

“Stella! Hey, Stella!” (A Streetcar Named Desire, 1951)

“After all, tomorrow is another day!” (Gone with the Wind, 1939)

”You is kind. You is smart. You is important.” (The Help, 2011)

“You know how to whistle, don't you, Steve? You just put your lips together and blow.” (To Have and Have Not, 1944)

”Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi. You're my only hope.” (Star Wars, 1977)

“I mean, funny like I'm a clown? I amuse you?” (Goodfellas, 1990)

“Go ahead, make my day” (Sudden Impact, 1983)

”I have always depended on the kindness of strangers.” (A Streetcar Named Desire, 1951)

“It’s alive! It’s alive!” (Frankenstein, 1931)

“Argo f**k yourself” (Argo, 2012)

“My precious” (The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers, 2002)

“Good morning, Vietnam!” (Good Morning, Vietnam, 1987)

“I wish I knew how to quit you” (Brokeback Mountain, 2005)

“That’ll do, pig, that’ll do” (Babe, 1995)

“Elementary, my dear Watson” (The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, 1939)

“I don't want to survive. I want to live.” (12 Years a Slave, 2013)

”Gentlemen, you can't fight in here! This is the war room!” (Dr Strangelove, 1964)

“You ain't heard nothin' yet!” (The Jazz Singer, 1927)

“Wax on, wax off” (The Karate Kid, 1984)

“Yo, Adrian!” (Rocky, 1976)

“Nobody’s perfect” (Some Like it Hot, 1959)

”Just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in.” (The Godfather Part III, 1990)

“Magic Mirror on the wall, who is the fairest one of all?” (Snow White and the Seven Dwarves, 1937)

“They’re here!” (Poltergeist, 1982)

”They call it a Royale with cheese.” (Pulp Fiction, 1994)

“I'm just one stomach flu away from my goal weight.” (The Devil Wears Prada, 2006)

”Badges? We ain't got no badges! We don't need no badges! I don't have to show you any stinking badges!” (The Treasure of the Sierra Madre, 1948)

“It was Beauty killed the Beast” (King Kong, 1933)

“I'm walking here! I'm walking here!” (Midnight Cowboy, 1969)

“These go to eleven” (This is Spinal Tap, 1984)

“Forget it, Jake. It’s Chinatown” (Chinatown, 1974)

“Chewie, we’re home” (Star Wars: The Force Awakens, 2015)

“As if!” (Clueless, 1995)

“You make me want to be a better man” (As Good as It Gets, 1997)

”Get your stinking paws off me, you damned dirty ape!” (Planet of the Apes, 1968)

“I drink your milkshake!” (There Will be Blood, 2007)

“My name is Maximus Decimus Meridius, commander of the Armies of the North, General of the Felix Legions and loyal servant to the true emperor, Marcus Aurelius. Father to a murdered son, husband to a murdered wife. And I will have my vengeance, in this life or the next.” (Gladiator, 2000)

“You complete me” (Jerry Maguire, 1996)

”If you let my daughter go now, that'll be the end of it. I will not look for you, I will not pursue you. But if you don't, I will look for you, I will find you, and I will kill you.” (Taken, 2008)

“When you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.” (When Harry Met Sally, 1989)

“They call me Mister Tibbs!” (In the Heat of the Night, 1967)

”They may take our lives, but they'll never take our freedom!” (Braveheart, 1995)

“Love means never having to say you're sorry” (Love Story, 1970)

For plenty more dramatic content, check out www.dramabit.com.

#hollywood #dramatic #staw wars #jaws #best #movie #qoutes #all-time #books #ebooks

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earth-ambassador-jim · 5 years ago

Text

Lost Souls: Story 2

The Tower (part 1)

Summary: Merlin awakens early from his sleep. He decides that he doesn’t want to leaving anything to chance and kidnaps the young James Lake Jr. to began training his Trollhunter as early as possible.

Barbara is determined to hunt down the man who kidnapped her son. In her efforts to get her son back she finds a strange old radio that speaks to her in a woman’s voice. The radio leads her to an underground society of shapeshifters.

Mother and son meet again years later as strangers on opposing sides.

AO3 - Fanfiction

(Note: Jim is six in this chapter.)

~~~~

“I want to go home.”

Jim’s demand fell flat against the stone walls and dusty shelves of the room. The man who claimed he was Merlin didn’t respond; he just kept scribbling away on his roll of yellowed paper. Every once in a while he would glance at one of the many books on the table. Jim wasn’t sure if he was ignoring him or had just not heard.

“I’m leaving,” Jim announced.

No response. Jim carefully started moving toward the ornate wooden door that he was fairly certain led outside. “Merlin” was still scribbling away. He put his hand on doorknob, it was cold. He glanced back. Still nothing. Jim’s heart was beating fast as he eased open the door and slipped through.

He closed it quickly behind him and squirmed excitedly. He was out! It was far easier than he had expected.

He looked around trying to figure out where he was. The door was on one side of him and on the other was a dark tunnel, lit in places by glowing green stones. Jim eyed them with wide eyes.

Toby would have liked them. Jim had met him a year ago just before his birthday and they were now best friends. He had even shown Jim his special rock collection. Jim drifted toward one of the low-hanging green crystals but stopped. Mom said stealing wasn’t good.

He was already being bad by disobeying an grown-up and running away.

Jim frowned, hesitating by the door; he really shouldn’t be doing this, but he didn’t think Merlin was a good person. Mom had warned him that there were bad people and that he shouldn’t go with them or do what they said. Though he wasn’t sure if that applied in this situation since he hadn’t gone with Merlin: he had just woken up here... What if Mom had left him with Merlin like she used to with Gramma sometimes?

But she always told him when she was going to that. And she always said goodbye. Not like Dad…

He shook his head hard to get rid of that thought before turning away from the door. Mom wouldn’t abandon him and he didn’t want to be here anymore. He would find his way home. If he was wrong Mom would forgive him.

The tunnel was dark and cold. Every once in a while it would spit in two. The growing crystals stopped being interesting and cool and started feeling creepy. Their eerie light bothered his eyes. Jim found himself getting more and more confused. He wasn’t even sure how to get back to the door. He let out a quiet whimper.

Maybe if he went just a little farther…

He rounded the corner and found himself in front of a very familiar door. He was back where he started.

Jim frowned. That was strange…

He decided to try again. And again. And again…

When Jim found himself at the wooden door yet again, he felt his face crumple. He sniffed a few times and a tear trickled down his cheek. What was he doing wrong? Frustrated and lonely, he curled up beside the door and started crying.

He had been there for a while, and was starting to get cold, when the door opened. Warm yellow light spilled out, partially blocked by a tall silhouette. He peeked out from behind his hands to see Merlin staring down at him.

“Come back inside, boy. If you stay out in the caves you’ll catch cold.”

Jim glared up at him for a moment. A shiver ran through him, causing him to wrap his arms around his skinny frame. Despite that he refused to get up. He didn’t want to go back there, he wanted to go home.

He didn’t get much of a choice. He let out a yelp as he was lifted up and carried, struggling, back inside.

Once they were back in, and the door was closed, Merlin wrapped him in a large thick blanket, set him in a chair, and handed him a cup of something warm. Coco he realized. He held it in his hands but didn’t drink it, choosing instead to glare at Merlin as the man settled into the chair across from him.

“How long will I be here?” Jim asked.

No response.

“Why am I here?”

“I told you: I’m training you.”

“Why?” Jim asked, frustrated.

He had said something like that when Jim had first woken up here. That Jim had an important destiny that he had to prepare him for.

But Jim knew training was like teaching. He went to school for teaching and they let him go home each day. The teacher, Miss Crumbstead, didn’t ignore him either. She answered his questions and would give him and the other kids fun things to play with and draw. Merlin didn’t do any of these things.

He didn’t think Merlin was going to answer but to his surprise the old man looked up. He set down his pen and put his hands together in front of him. Jim straightened uncomfortably under his gaze.

“I wanted to wait a while longer to talk to you about this but I suppose you need some explanation before you can settle in.”

His blue-grey eyes were intense as he studied Jim carefully before he sighed and a tired sort of look formed on his face, like the one Mom had when she had told Jim Dad wouldn’t be coming home for Thanksgiving. He rose from his chair and went over to one of the shelves, shuffling around for a moment, before he came back and set a small yellow crystal down between them.

“There is great evil in this world,” Merlin started.

He rested his hand on the crystal and it flickered and released blast of yellow light. Jim shielded his eyes. When he put his hand down, he saw that the light was forming into shapes: huge beings with horns and armor and fangs. He ducked down behind the back of his chair, watching them fearfully.

“One such evil took the form of the Gumm-Gumms. They were a vicious group of trolls that ate humans and wreaked havoc… hurt other trolls that didn’t agree with them.”

Jim covered his eyes, shaking. He didn’t want to see this.

“In order to protect the humans and drive them back. I created a magical amulet that would choose a champion and gift them with great power.”

Jim peeked through his fingers and saw the image had shifted to a different, less scary, one of the horned creatures. It held a glowing disk in its hands. Its lips moved as if it was saying something and a suit of armor materialized around it.

“Thus started the line of Trollhunters,” Merlin said, a slight smile briefly appearing on his face.

He circled around the table to stand beside Jim and set a hand on his shoulder. Jim shifted uncomfortably but let it stay as he watched the images fade away.

“But what… why am I here?”

“You are destined to be the next Trollhunter,” Merlin stated.

Jim turned around to stare at him in surprise.

“Me?” He squeaked.

Merlin nodded.

“Indeed.” He took a step away, clasping his hands behind his back and turning away from Jim. “I saw it in a vision. You were able to finally defeat two of the greatest evils the world has known.”

He paused.

“Or rather will. But not before damage was done.”

He set another crystal next to the yellow one, a blue one this time. He tapped them together and whispered words that Jim couldn’t understand.

They flared for a moment and then cast out a red light. Jim jumped as the shapes of the Gumm-Gumms reformed. This time in Arcadia! There were people fleeing for their lives. Destruction and chaos was everywhere. Jim’s breathing quickened to the point he was rapidly becoming light headed.

Merlin picked up crystals and the image vanished. Jim stared up at him with wide eyes. The wizard’s expression was solemn. He knelt down to Jim’s level.

“That is why I brought you here,” He said gently, holding Jim’s gaze with his own. “To start training you early so this time when the time comes you will be ready to do what you need to.”

“C… Can’t.. Couldn’t someone else do it? I… I’m not big or strong… or… or…”

Merlin shook his head.

“I’ve studied many futures,” He said firmly.

His hand brushed over the crystal again. Images flickered by quicker than Jim could truly take them in, but slow enough that he could see the destruction and devastation.

“…You must be the Trollhunter, it is the only way.”

Jim was quivering. He started to wrap his arms around himself, but Merlin gently pulled them back down.

“But what about Mom?” He whimpered.

He couldn’t leave her. He didn’t want to, but especially not after seeing how badly it had hurt her when Dad left had left them.

“Can’t she stay here too?”

Merlin sighed and looked away.

“I’m afraid not,” He said. “Being Trollhunter is dangerous. If your enemies know who you care about they will try to hurt them. Do you really want to bring her into that?”

Jim thought about the evil man-eating trolls and shook his head weakly. He didn’t want Mom to get hurt. Before he could say anything else, Merlin continued.

“You can see her eventually, once you’re strong enough, but for now I need you to focus on your training. Will you do that?”

Jim hesitated, this was big and scary, but if he didn’t…

“Okay.”

Merlin smiled and patted his head.

“I knew you would make the right decision.”

~~~~

Author Notes:

The next chapter will be Barbara's first interaction with Morgana. I was going to have it be part of this chapter, but it was being stubborn and I'm impatient. There's also a time jump, so I think it probably works better this way.

Also writing from a kid's perspective is tricky and I would welcome any critiques.

This story will be alternating between the past and present (events that will be taking place after Jim and Barbara's interactions in the first chapter) I will be showing that with tenses. Events happening in the present will be chronological, while events in the past will jump around a bit. It's a bit of a style experiment for me so I'd love to hear what you think!

#Tales of Arcadia #Trollhunters #Trollhunters Fanfiction #Jim lake jr #James lake Jr #Merlin #TOA Merlin #Child Champion AU #manipulation of a child #manipulation #kidnapping #Trollhunters AUs #My AUs #My Writing #my post #Lost Souls

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littlemisssquiggles · 5 years ago

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Sooo, I'm in love with the theory that Ruby's silver eyes destroy Salem's connection with the grimm+ the pools so she turns to humanity to start a second Great War. It also lets me expand my personal theory on Cinder: she's going to usurp Salem as the big bad. Right now, it's being foreshadowed that the only way to beat Salem is to redeem her; meanwhile Cinder is trying to gather as much power as she can; heck, she might find a few drops of the pools left and grimmify herself- role reversal!

Firstly, I’m pleased to hear that youliked the idea Miki-chan. Secondly, alright, if I may be honest with you here I have toconfess something. I actually don’t think Cinder has a chance of remaining a poignant character in RWBY. I mean in the sense that I’m quite torn on what’s next for her given the way the Writers’ have portrayed her side of the story up until thisvery point in the series.

Similar to you, I used to share in the theory that Cinder would ultimately rise up and replace Salem as the ultimate big-bad of RWBY. As a matter of fact, I used to be of the opinion that that’s part of why Salem was grooming Cinder. In the past, I figured Salem had taken Cinder as her apprentice to nurture her into becoming either a) her next successor or b) her next vessel.

This was way back when my theory was that Salem was some kind of face-stealing intelligent Grimm that has lived for centuries by stealing the bodies of its victims. I figured Cinder was someone Salem was going to eventually turn into her next vessel. Almost like a darker version of what becomes of the Wizards during their reincarnation cycle. I figured Salem was just like Ozpin—she’s been changing her face over the years but whereas Oz was sympathetic of taking control of his successors, Salem would force her way. She would find her vessels, groom them to her liking and when the time comes for her to reincarnate, she would forcibly take over her successors bodies replacing their minds with her own—like a parasite.

That’s what I though Salem was. Her being an invincible immortal was way out of what I pegged. So yeah, I thought Cinder was going to become Salem in a way.

But as of V6, I have not the slightest clue what the Writers’ intentions for Cinder’s story are and I’ve also lost faith in her actually getting a proper progression with her side of the narrative. With the way how the Writers have positioned Salem as this invincible force, I can’t picture anyone usurping her since they’ve placed her on this pedestal where she literally can’t be dethroned. Because of the direction the show has taken with both Salem and Cinder, I can see one of the following:

Cinder is given the Adam Taurus treatment where she is unceremoniously killed off during the events of the Atlas Trilogy. This is why this squiggle meister has shied off from any theories that suggest Cinder having any kind of ongoing story including a redemption arc. Nothing against the fans and theorists who want this to happen, it’s just that after watching the Writers play character assassination paddy cake with Cinder for the entirety of the Mistral Arc, I’ve lost hope for her.

Personally, speaking for myself mostly here, I never saw Cinder as a character worthy of redemption. Again, nothing against the folks who believe this. I just don’t see it for Cinder since in my opinion, redemption arcs should go to characters who’ve shown a shred of remorse or doubt for their past actions. This has not been the case with Cinder. Not once has she revealed a side of her that’s regret anything she’s done.

This leads me to believe that Cinder’s downfall will her megalomaniac personality. Her lust for power is going to continue to consume her until it ultimately brings her to her final curtain call. As a matter of fact, twice over, Cinder’s power hungry ways has brought her to her own demise.

In V3, her pursuit of the Fall Maiden magic resulted in her killing the original Fall Maiden, Professor Ozpin and Pyrhha and the karma from those murders resulted in her losing her arm and eye thanks to Ruby awakening her Silver Eyes for the first time.

In V5, Cinder’s pursuit of the Spring Maiden magic resulted in her losing to Raven and being frozen alive before plummeting to her second alleged death.

But as we saw from V6, Cinder survived that ordeal scotch free and is well on her way to Atlas on the assumption that she is going to have another fated rematch with either Ruby Rose and/or Oscar Pine.

Huh. 3, 5…7? Am I sensing a pattern here? At this point, after baiting her death two times, either the CRWBY Writers kill off Cinder for good in V7 or…continue to drag her character around while doing very little to progress her character and story while providing the audience with more incentive to question why she’s being kept around.

What is Cinder’s purpose?

I thought she might replace Salem but if Salem can’t be killed and Salem has sort of disowned her as of V6, seriously what is Cinder’s purpose now? What hope is there for her now to be kept in the story?

Really sorry to all the Cinder fans but, to me, Cinder feels like another villain with wasted potential at the moment and I have this sad gut feeling that she’s going to get the same treatment as Adam Taurus.

While the end to her story might be fitting (being defeated by the combined efforts of Ruby, Oscar and possibly Jaune and having her be stripped of her Maiden magic by Oscar, an incarnate of Oz and the rightful wielder of said power), Cinder might get killed off before the audience could even get a chance to learn more about her. I feel like that might happen given the weird way the Writers have treated the villains these past volumes.

However…

Since I’m someone who often likes to toss out ideas to the FNDM, I’m going to toy with an idea I have right here. A headcanon of how this squiggle meister thinks Cinder can be salvaged for the future of RWBY.

You might even like this one Miki-chan since it encompasses one or two things you wanted to see done for Cinder.

Hear me out:

Let’s say…by the end of V7 or whenever during the Atlas Arc, Cinder isdefeated. Neo betrays her and Ruby Rose isn’t killed. As I said, Cinder isstripped of her Maiden magic by Oscar and is left completely powerless and at the heroes’ disposal.

Imagine this as Cinder’s lowest moment yet as she is forced to kneel before her enemies. Like how Pyrhha was made to kneel in her final moments. Despite her weakened state, Cinder’s pride forces her to fight against her enemies restraints but to no avail.

Out of the crowd, Jaune walks up to Cinder. This provides the perfect opportunity for Jaune to finally get justice for Pyrhha—the justice he tried to get back in V5 during the Battle of Haven.

But rather than enacting his revenge, Jaune does the opposite. He shows Cinder mercy. He refuses to kill her. He doesn’t give her the satisfaction of staining his hands with her blood and instead looks back at her in pity.

Jaune decides to leave Cinder be since in her feeble state, Jaune saw heras less of a threat. No longer worthy of his wrath and he even quotes that Pyrhha wouldn’t wish for him to fall to the same level as Cinder.

Jaune’s anger toward Cinder over Pyrhha’s death nearly made him into a monster. This wasn’t the boy Pyrhha knew and no one, not even the likes of Cinder Fall was going to make Jaune become less of who he was. Not anymore. Cinder is shown pity by her enemies and such a feat angers her to no end.

After all, let me remind you of a quote from Cinder from V3.

‘I want to be strong. I want to be feared’.

Cinder desired power so that she could become someone whose power made her feared in the eyes of others. Cinder saw power as her ticket to making her formidable. A somebody in the world to possibly contrast her previous lifestyle that made he feel less of a person, perhaps?

So for another time in her life, Cinder finds herself back at the beginning. At her lowest. Alone. Powerless. A nobody that even her enemies saw more fit for pity than fear.

If this happens and Cinder is left completely powerless but spared, my headcanon is that the Geist Grimm arm attached to Cinder’s body will fully corrupt her, turning Cinder into a Grimm-human hybrid. A wolf in sheep’s clothing. A Grimm in human skin.

And since Cinder is part Geist, this grants her the creature’s unique ability to possess other things. And since Cinder is part human, her Geist abilities enables her to steal the form of other humans.

So that’s how Cinder is able to escape again. She ends up walking right out of custody by possessing the body of a guard or something. When outside, she discards this human skin and goes in search of another body to steal.

I even have this dark idea of Cinder stealing Neo’s body. Since I can’t think of any other way that the Writers might wish to keep Neo in the story outside of being redeemed (y’know becoming the General Jinjur of RWBY, falling in love with Henry Marigold and having her happily ever after with him somehow).

And with Cinder becoming part human, part Grimm, this adds to your idea of her gaining control of Grimm and becoming their new leader in Salem’s place after she’d been cleansed by Ruby’s Silver Eyes. Imagine the Grimm coming to see Cinder as their new leader since her Geist Grimm half makes her one of them.

I figured the Grimm saw Salem as one of their own since she crawled out of the same dark Grimm Pools that made the Grimm.

So why wouldn’t the Grimm see Cinder as one of their own should she shed her human skin and become all Grimm—well mostly Grimm. A Grimm in human skin.

No need for her to bathe herself in a Grimm Pool. Since she failed to gain power to dominate the humans, Cinder becoming a complete Grimmoire (my fanon name for Grimm-human hybrids basically) gives her an advantage. She dominates the Grimm, showing her superiority by positioning herself as an Alpha among the Grimm.

Heck! Perhaps becoming a Grimmoire even enables Cinder tocommunicate with the Grimm. Speak to them. Hear their voice. Understand the Grimm in ways that even Salem never did. And by becoming the Grimm’s Alpha—their Queen, that’s how Cinder will become feared. Not through Maiden Magic but through becoming a Grimm in human form—the very personification of fear leading her newfound armies to do her bidding.

I’m not sure what Cinder’s goal would be after becoming a Grimmoire. Basically if she becomes a Grimmoire, she’d be the embodiment of what she desired. As Qrow Branwen once said. The Grimm are fear. So if Cinder becomes the Grimmoire and turns into the new Queen of the Grimm—she’d be fear itself too.

Oh! Oh! And do you know what would even more awesome? Imagine if…by being part Geist and Geists are able to take possession of other things, what if Cinder gets the idea to grow her Grimm army by making more of her.

For the Game of Thrones fans, remember the Night King and the White Walkers?

Imagine if Cinder ends up becoming something akin to the Night King? A Grimm-human hybrid whose Geist Grimm abilities allowed her to possess the bodies of the dead.

So imagine Cinder leading an army of the Grimm and dead humans she’d reanimated with her Geist abilities. I know this last bit is a huge stretch but…think about it?

It’s a way to make Cinder a bigger big bad than Salem? Oh!Oh! And it can also be another huge burst of irony. Remember what Salem told Ozma when he told her about the Gods’ Judgement? Salem wanted to bring about the end of the world so that her and Ozma could replace humanity with their magical off-spring or something to that extent.

Imagine if…after becoming a Grimmoire, Cinder decides to make all of Remnanther kingdom. She desires to convert all of Remnant into her World of Death. A complete Grimm World under her reign.

Imagine if…the second Great War and Salem’s second attempt at using humanity to kill the Gods or even the Gods’ Judgment becomes less of a threat when Cinder decides to turn her Grimm army on humanity and use them to pillage and kill in order to grow her armyof death and destruction.

Imagine if Cinder becomes the big powerful fearful threat that everyone inRemnant cease everything to band together to stop since she and her army can literally kill everyone and turn them into one of her. I mean she’s not as indestructible as Salem was. Her fear factor isn’t that she can’t be killed because she’s immortal.

Making Salem immortal actually made her less interesting of a villain to me if I’m being honest. She can’t be defeated because she literally has a magical thingamabobble (that the Brother Gods’ rather foolishly bestowed upon her and idiotically never revoked from her after abandoning Remnant with the monster they created) that’s preventing the main heroes from destroying her. To me, if Cinder is to replace Salem as the biggest threat in RWBY, I like the idea of her still being vulnerable in some way but her fear factor is that she’s difficult to kill.

Not because she’s immortal. But because her power, strength and overall cunning makes her a formidable opponent who forces our heroes to become, not only stronger, but smarter if they stood any chance of killing her. I like a villain that challenges our heroes in that kind of way. But that’s just me.

I originally pegged that the reasonSalem survived for so long was because she was cunning. Especially more cunning than Ozma and his reasons for never defeating Salem up until this point was because she would always find a way to outsmart him and thwart his plans no matter how much he tried to plan ahead. That could’ve been interesting.

But nah. Salem survived so long cause immortality that the Gods stupidly gave to her as punishment for tricking them even though she tried to kill them. Who gives someone who tried to kill you the power to not be killed? I mean….

Anyways, moving along! If Cinder replaces Salem, let her be formidable through the same strength and intimidation tactics that was originally meant for Salem…but done better.

Seriously picture Cinder becoming RWBY’sversion of the Night King. Like a Queen of Darkness or the Red Queen. Cinder the Red Queen sounds kind of cool, in my opinion.

I know, this is all one big stretch of a squiggly theory. But…think about it? If Cinder is destined to become a character like that then I wouldn’t mind hoping on board with it. Buuuuuuut it’s up to the real Writers’ of RWBY.

Overall, what do you think of the concept?

~LittleMissSquiggles (2019)

#squiggles answers: rwby #oscar pine #cinder fall #rwby salem #rwby theories #miki-13 #squiggles answers #cinder headcanons

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andy-loves-corgis · 6 years ago

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The Eyes, Laugh and Lies of Anneliss York - Part 1 (Lily)

Hey guys, I know this is mainly a Choices blog, but my lazy ass doesn’t want to create another blog so you’ll get some Harry Potter fanfics too!

Book: Harry Potter - Marauders Era

Pairings: James x Lily, Sirius x OC, Remus x OC

Notes: So, this fic is from 2015, when I just wrote for HP fandom, and @drakewalkerrosenberg wanted to see a little of my HP fics, so here it is.

It’s basic centered on my OC Anneliss York, her life will be told through the eyes of her friends and lovers now that she’s dead. Each chapter will be someone’s POV, and they will complement each other. Tell me if you want to be tagged.

***

Lily Evans

The house was cold, my husband’s family manor used to be full of joy, but now it was empty. His father died first, his mother couldn’t bear to live without him,passing right after, and now she was gone too.

Anneliss was dead.

I just couldn't stare at her portrait anymore, she was my best friend, the one who lived my ups and downs, who was with me every bloody time that I needed. She couldn't be just gone, a person like her cannot die! Life was beaming out of her fingertips at anytime. It hurt so much to remember the times that I've spent with her, mainly due to the fact that her gorgeous 7-month-old daughter is right here, smiling on my lap, playing with my son. Looking one more time to her smile, I can’t help but chant the words we’d always said to each other, even though she’s not saying it back. Never again.

“I love you like a sister, Liss"

November 11th, 1972

I was sitting at the far corner of the library studying potions, Severus was serving a detention due to Potter bullying instincts and couldn't be there with me. I had already written two parchments of our potions essay (even though the professor had said it could be only one and a half) and was checking the information when I felt someone's stare on me, when I looked at my side I saw a girl not much taller than me, with long brown hair with the sides pinned with bright red hair clips, eyes that I couldn't figure out if they were blue or green and some freckles spread on her face. I knew her, she was Anneliss York, Gryffindor; same year as mine. Somehow she was related to Potter and the talk was that she was the adoptive daughter of our Defense Against The Dark Arts teacher, Professor Dumbledore. She was a bit of a loner.

"Hi" she started shyly "Could you lend me the potions book when you're finished? There is no other available and I haven't started my essay yet. Besides, I really suck at this subject"

"Sure" I answered awkwardly "Humm... Do you want some help?" her face lit and she nodded.

That day she would become my best friend.

February 8th, 1974

"Why can't you go with me to Hogsmeade?" I ranted looking for my brown jacket in my drawers, the brunette on the bed beside me sighed.

"Lily, I've already told you, I'm going out with Sirius". She didn’t even bother to look at me.

I was dazed by her answer "I thought you got over your crush on that neanderthal", she sighed once again.

"And I did, he and James made a bet, fifty chocolate frogs on who would take a girl to a date and kiss her by the end of the day, he promised me half of the prize and I said yes".

"Wait. That's why that toerag you call cousin was screaming in the halls 'Evans, go out with me'?" I stopped my search for a second, really irritated.

"Probably" She said carelessly scraping the dirt out of her nails.

I had finally found my jacket and looked judgingly to her "You sold yourself short, and you're going to lose a perfect day with me and Sev", she snorted putting a red Every Flavor bean on her mouth, muffling the sound of her next words.

"Yeah, like I would go out with the couple".

"We're not a couple!" why everyone thought we were? She raised her brow and said:

"Sure" she said going in the bathroon's direction "I'll pretend he's not drooling over you every bloody minute, now if you excuse me I have to get ready for my first kiss and lots of chocolate frogs later on. I'm really a lucky girl".

I laughed at her remarks, she was really a girl of attitude.

June 21st, 1976

Mudblood

I couldn't believe he had said it, he could not have said it! He was my best friend, long before Hogwarts, when magic was just a silly daydream of mine. He said that word, that piercing word that would haunt me forever in the wizard world. It doesn't matter that he came to apologise, why would I be different from every other muggle-born that he called that? I was beyond second chances with him and that hurt me more than I could imagine. I was crying my eyes out in the dorm, so immersed on my own self-pity that I didn't hear her coming.

She sat on the edge of my bed and hugged me, I started sobbing "Why does my blood matter so much?" my body was shaking uncontrollably.

"Shhh" I heard her next to my ear, her hand was caressing my disheveled hair and I started to hear her voice filling my head. "It doesn't mean anything to those who really matter" She laid me on my bed and I heard her melodic whispers.

"Don't lose it all,

in the blur of the stars.

Seeing is deceiving,

dreaming is believing,

it's okay not be okay.

Sometimes is hard,

to follow your heart,

but tears don't mean you're losing,

everybody's bruising.

Just be truth to who you are."

And she lulled me to sleep, so I could wake up a new person. I would be a better friend to her, that was always there for me whenever I needed.

January 10th, 1977

The night was silent, the ones who couldn't find a place near the fireplaces went to sleep early because the cold outside was as imposing as the dark figure that was slowly starting a war on the wizard world, I was wide awake in my bed, thinking that I would be an adult ‪in 20 days‬, a mudblood adult, who could be killed at any moment.

"Lily, are you awake?" I heard Liss calling me, and the apprehensive tone she used worried me.

"Yes" I answered, but silence met me on the other side, I knew she had not fallen asleep so she was probably thinking about what she was going to say, "spill it" I almost ordered, the other girls in the room were sound asleep (Mary was too soundly for my taste).

"IsleptwithSiriusontheholidays" she said so fast that at first I couldn't understand, I guess it was the shock, because when I could figure what she said I choked on my breath.

"You did what? Merlin, Liss, haven't you dumped Edlor Thomas because he was only thinking about sleeping with you? How could you sleep with your bloody best friend?! That's crazy Liss, how did it started? Are you two dating now? Does Potter know? He's gonna kill him..."

"Lily, calm down please" she whispered pleading "It just happened, it's your fault actually, no one wanted to go with us to Tenerife! It happened, it was nice, we're still best friends, nothing has changed... I guess" I tried to calm my breath, but Liss' confession was making me uncomfortable about keeping my own secret .

"I kissed Potter yesterday, under a mistletoe" I confessed in a small voice.

"YOU WHAT?"

I couldn't even answer, since her exclamation had awaken all of the girls in the dorm, but I got the feeling that I wouldn't hear the end of it on the next day.

September 2nd, 1977

"Liss, wake up! It's first day of school, our last first day. I need to run or I'll have a heart attack" I was shaking a peaceful sleeping girl who started mumbling really pissed when awake, but started to dress up anyway. It was our tradition, actually it was my tradition. I would wake her up at dawn and make her jog with me on our first day of school, and she would be grumpy and snarl at my comments. That's just how we were.

"So, how are you?" I asked when we stopped by the Herbology greenhouses."Is Remus talking to you again? I couldn't find him yesterday at the banquet" she looked at the grass, she had been like this for two weeks now.

"No, no word since he broke up with me" she answered in a small voice.

"I think he's right you know, if you're battling feelings for Sirius you should just let them out, I think he likes you too. Of course you made a mess by dating Remus, but if he's giving you the chance to be happy, take it"

Her stare was lethal and I could study those eyes which sometimes seemed green and other seemed blue, she was really pissed.

"Well, Lily, I think it would be just polite of you to know your heart like you know mine. James won't chase you forever you know" that said she just started jogging ahead of me.

Touché.

October 13th, 1977

We were laying on the gardens, it was past the school curfew but we sneaked out anyway, it was our last year and I could afford some rule-breaking (I could cover it anyway by being a Head Girl). James Potter, the new Head Boy, had kissed me this afternoon, the Gryffindor lost the first game of the season to Ravenclaw and James was frustrated, I felt really bad for him. I was studying near the windows of the Common Room and saw him marching towards me, still in his quidditch uniform full of mud and sweat with a determined look on his face, we had become friends over the past few months and I never saw him like that. It was fast, he didn't even stop in front of me, just put both hands on the sides of my face and kissed me. 'You are going out with me next weekend' he said to my blushy face and I would have kissed him again if it wasn't for all the students around.

"Liss?" I asked the girl by my side, who turned her face from the sky to look at me. "I'm in love with James Potter"

And she would take my hand, smile at me and say "I'm glad you finally noticed it"

September 17th, 1978

"HE PROPOSED!" I screamed entering her flat as she jumped frightened in fear with her hand on her wand, those were dark times and for a flick of a second I forgot that.

"OH MERLIN'S ARSE!" she exclaimed after the information sank in "You are going to be married! I'm so so so happy for you" she was hugging me tight, I could feel her happiness and that made me feel alive, she was the sister that my own could never be.

"Will you be my maid of honor?" I asked drying the tears that I didn't even knew I was shedding. "If you didn't ask I would possibly slice your throat!" she said smiling fully.

"How about you and Sirius? When are you two tying the knot?" she started to laugh openly.

"Can you imagine Sirius Black getting married? He surely prefers to mess around in my kitchen and complain about the amount of drawers that he has here"

January 3rd, 1979

"I feel like we have to be afraid all the time" Liss told me while we were having tea at my place, I had to agree with her, those were dark times, but I knew something that she didn't.

"Let's do something stupid for once!" I said with a mischievous smile, I was becoming more and more like my husband, "Let's go to some shop, you buy me a dress and I buy you one, and we aparate in some beach and just pretend we don't have any worries! Just for today, please?” she laughed like I was crazy but went on anyway. We stopped by a muggle store that I loved, spent half an hour looking for the dress, actually she did, I already knew what to buy to her.

"Oh Lil, white? You know that when I use white it seems like my freckles multiply" she said when we were back to her flat and she tried her treat, I snorted, she looked amazing on the long strapless dress.

"You don't even have a hand full of freckles, don't let Sirius comments get to you. Besides the deal was: I would choose you a dress and you would do the same to me, now cheer up. It's time for the beach"

I was so excited to see her face, we stepped on the warm sand and we both smiled, she had her back to the sea and I was trying not to focus on what was behind her. "Here" I said taking a sparkly little head piece of my purse and putting in her hair "Something borrowed... hum, the dress is new"

"What's going on, Lil?" when she turned her eyes grew wide, as she took it all in her mouth opened and closed a couple of times. There was a small tent decorated with flowers, a strange man behind an altar and Sirius Black wearing a white tunic on the right side, while James was wearing a black one on the other.

"You need something blue" and I conjured a bouquet of blue spring star flowers "As for something old, you would have to go for our friendship".

"Oh, Lil" there were tears in her eyes, I felt honored to take her to the altar, so she could be forever happy, like I was.

November 15th, 1979

We were surrounded by Death Eaters, they were large in numbers than us and I was truly scared for the first time, Sirius was on another mission and Liss was at home feeling frightened all the time, the pregnancy taking its toll on her, I emitted the help signal to the Order's members, we needed back up, but I could never think that she would come, that she would risk herself and her baby for us. But she came, she came because I called, she came because we are her family and she wouldn't let anyone harm us, that's why when she was attacked and started bleeding near a dumpster I felt my heart sink.

"We will take you to a safe place, Liss" I assured her while James and I headed to the hospital "Everything will be alright"

But it wouldn't. I had to gather courage to enter her room in St Mungus, and when she looked into my eyes she knew, and that broke me.

"No" she said in a small voice, "no, no, no. no. NOOO!" she started screaming in her bed, she grabbed the sheets in her fists and cried. "My baby, not my dear baby! No, Lily!” she sobbed and collapsed on the bed when nothing more could hold her awake. And I was there the whole night when Sirius didn't appear, I held her hand because her pain was my pain.

January 14th, 1980

"I'm leaving the house by the end of the week" she said behind her tea mug, her eyes ,always so bright, were dead "It's been long since we stopped looking at each other's face. I think it's just better"

I couldn't meet her gaze any longer, my lie filling the space between us, I felt sorry for her, it was so unfair to have it all and see someone you love so much lose everything, she finished her tea and stood up "I will write you to tell where you can find me. Oh... by the way, this is for you" she said taking a little package out of her purse, when I opened my breath was caught in my throat, it was a comforter with little broomsticks on it. How did she know?

"You will be a wonderful mother, Lil" she said opening a genuine smile and I could see a flick of light in her eyes.

June 21st, 1980

We were laid on her backyard, feeling the grass on our backs, just like we used to do at school, our swollen bellies side by side, I was so happy for us, for how her life was back on tracks. We spent an awful lot of time together making plans for our babies, how they would be intelligent, and brave and would be best friends like all of us, and her light laugh would fill up the warm air, her eyes would light up and she would say:

"I love you like a sister, Lil"

Tagging: @ehkw1989 (Hey girl!)

#not choices #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #fanfiction #marauders #james potter #sirius black #lily evans #anneliss york

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