#JOIN ME FELLOW NINNY APPRECIATOR

[heartfeltheart]

Alchemy: Little Brother’s Turn

Chapters: 10/? Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist/Harry Potter Rating: T Relationships: Edward/Winry, Lan Fan/Ling, May/Alphonse, Severus/Charity Series: Part 3 of 9. Summary: Part 3 of the Alchemy Series. Now it is Alphonse’s turn to taking over his brother’s position at Hogwarts. He quickly began to realize how much…stuff… Edward left behind to figure out on his own. Like, The Boy Who Lived, Sirius Black… and a Philosopher’s Stone you say? D/C: I do not own Harry Potter or Fullmetal Alchemist. Discord: La Red(Mesh Mash of… stuff.): https://discord.gg/KYjmVAb Alchemy Series: https://discord.gg/DejEYNJ

Alphonse looked through possible candidates to teach non-magical subjects here at Hogwarts. Ling had sent over several files on individuals from Xing and Roy had also sent in his own list and one of the names from the latter's list jumped out…

"Doctor Marcoh?"

-.-

Harry walked alongside of Ron as they head towards the Great Hall for breakfast. Both were dressed in their fitting uniforms and shiny leather shoes. Announcements are going to be said that day and it meant mandatory attendance. Once it was clear they were going to be late, they ran for it.

"What do you think Dumbledore is going to announce?" Ron asked, picking up his robes as he started to sprint.

"I have an idea." Harry responded, turning a corner that leads towards the Great Hall. Luckily, they still had just enough time to get breakfast before Dumbledore made the announcement. They two quickly made their way towards the Gryffindor table, sitting around their fellow first years and older Weasley brothers. He took note at how Fred and George were jumping in their seats, chatting away a hundred miles a minute.

-.-

"-Dr. Tim Marcoh, Zhang Yao, and Li Su. Our new mugg-"

"Non-magical studies."

"Our new non-magical studies instructors, they will be working alongside Professor Elric and Professor Burbage." Dumbledore announced the arrival of the new instructors, teaching science, math, and language arts respectively. He announced that the course is going to be a prerequisite to consider taking Alchemy as an elective by the third year, or to further one's studies in muggle studies, making mention how it would help the interaction between both magical and non-magical worlds.

"I can't believe you decided to join us, Doctor." Alphonse whispered under his breath, as he clapped along with everyone else in the in the Hall.

"I did all I could for Ishval. I didn't want to become a hermit once more and I hope my knowledge could be put for good use… and the pay is good." Marcoh responded, he took note of the reactions of the student body, there were obvious mix reactions towards him especially due to his physical appearance. While there are a few clapped enthusiastically, which of whom he previously taught back at Amestris when they visited for those two weeks. He raised an eyebrow when he saw a young pale blond boy smacking one of his classmates, who snickered at his general direction. He remembered seeing the kid back at Ed and Winry's wedding.

"Of course." Alphonse chuckled at Marcoh's response, he then turned his attention to the other two newly appointed instructors of Hogwarts. "Lord Zhang, Lady Lei, I truly appreciate for helping and spreading the teachings of our world."

Zhang Yao is none other than Emperor Ling's older full brother, and the two resembled eerily so. The main difference is that Zhang's hair is far longer than his brother's and kept in a tight braid and hardly ever smiled. Rumor has it, Zhang had never once smiled and only smiled once the past emperor had been announced dead. The young man nodded curtly towards Alphonse's direction. "It was this or my brother would have continued to annoy me until I complied to agree with it on my own accord."

"He's been planning the wedding and trying to convince Lady Lan Fan to stay hidden until the wedding. More threats against her life has been on the rise." Lei huffed out, she is a highly known scholar of her home country of Xing. She is of average height, long dark hair tied up in a tight bun, wearing a rich dark blue garment that is typical of Xing. "He did manage to convince her to be shadowed by personally hand-picked guards."

-.-

Draco held back the need to glare at everyone at the table that was mocking the disfigured old man at the Head Table. He promised his mother to do everything he could do to be in everyone's good graces that is connected to the Elric Brothers. That meant Doctor Tim Marcoh. He's already regretting 'making friends' with Crabbe and Goyle, and let's not get started with Parkinson…

"I wouldn't be laughing about Dr. Marcoh. The man personally knows Professor Snape, and is a close friend to Mr. and Professor Elric…"

That quickly shut the majority of the Slytherins up, right then and there. Draco whipped his head around to see an older Slytherin holding up a piping hot cup of tea close to his lips. Fifth Year Terrence Higgs, one of the more respectable Slytherins the House has to offer. By the looks of it, a prefect to boot.

"Oh, how would you know this, Higgs?" A Seventh year Slytherin scoffed at the fifth year.

"He's taking Alchemy, you ninny!" Another Slytherin hissed and elbowed the Seventh year. "Haven't you paid any attention in the last three years?"

For their own part, the Seventh year paled massively. Oh, the reputation the alchemy students carry is a massive one. Being chased by bears, dealing with psychotic killers, and so much more bloody hell things that it makes them wonder how they managed to keep their sanity. Let alone their limbs…

"My apologies…"

Terrence did not respond to the apology, it was his to take. He took a sip of his hot tea and purposely burn his tongue. Oh, how much he hates being back at this table without his friends to keep him company. They had decided to sit at the other tables or sat away from the… degenerates.

"Don't let them get to you, Terrance." Adrian Pucey nudged his friend shoulder with his elbow. "Just wait until they see what Professor Elric will do to them once he catches wind. The guy sees the old man like his granddad of sorts."

"That's the part I'm more worried about…" Terrence muttered under his breath, he looked around the hall and his eyes landed on the twins. The two were huddled close together, whispering to each over a questionably worn out piece of paper…thing. Judging by their devious smiles, it was something that is not up to good for everyone involved.

-.-

"It's a map."

"Wicked."

"Look… it shows up everyone."

"Really? It does… brother?"

"Yes, Freddie?"

"Pranks?"

"Pranks."

"Pranks it is."

[littleredroseonthevalley]

St. Augustine

Or, The Realization of Truth

Summary: After Mr Sinclaire storms off his own party, Lady Susan comes to find him at the yard.

Rating: T -  Suitable for teens, 13 years and older, with some violence, minor coarse language, and minor suggestive adult themes.

Words: 1474

Notes: I reiterate I am not a sociopath who can only take pleasure on sex and the suffering of my fellow men. To prove it, have some fluffy fluff.

“Why, then, does truth generate hatred, and why does thy servant who preaches the truth come to be an enemy to them who also love the happy life, which is nothing else than joy in the truth—unless it be that truth is loved in such a way that those who love something else besides her wish that to be the truth which they do love. Since they are unwilling to be deceived, they are unwilling to be convinced that they have been deceived. Therefore, they hate the truth for the sake of whatever it is that they love in place of the truth. They love truth when she shines on them; and hate her when she rebukes them.”

~ Confessions, Book 10, Chapter 23

Ernest felt like screaming, shouting until his voice was hoarse, but he contained himself on the grounds he had humiliated himself enough tonight. No need to feed the likes of Theresa Sutton with more babble to spread through the city.

God knows she had enough already.

He breathed heavily and tried to loosen his tie, in hopes that it would help the flow of air through his throat.

If the simple fact of upholding this travesty of a party while he would rather be doing just about literally anything else, including touring an apiary farm covered head to toe in honey, was not irritating enough, that… that… thing who the Fates had the sick pleasure of making a Duke had the damned idea to crash it.

What was the sick obsession of that man with him? It was going on years, even before the death of his wife, the Duke’s tendency to trail behind him, like a demon who could not be exorcised. The man leaving him alone might not make Ernest hate Tristan any less, but it would make the exercise less taxactive.

Perhaps if he had not came without an invitation, the esquire might have contained his temper, he might have thrown a respectable, composed, adjusted act for the night. Yes, the coup de grace had been a courtesy of Miss Sutton, whom, be stated, he also had no intention of inviting, but the Duke chirped at his patience enough before.

Though, to be fair, he had placed great expectations on tonight. He set himself for disappointment. He had hoped he could prove, to his peers, to himself, to her, that he was capable of doing this, being a standing member of polite society, to live up to the training he received as a boy.

He wanted to reinforce that first image Lady Susan had of him when they first met, on the road to Grover. Of the staunch nobleman to her county peasant. Out of spite, yes, all their encounters were in some way humiliating to him, but also because, in his head, this was the kind of man she desired and respected.

Now, would be better, he considers, to be taken as a bumbling, wimp of a man or as someone who threw tantrums and conniptions left and right? Those seemed to be his options at the moment, perhaps he ought to cut his losses and invest in one of those personas.

The season had already started, and people would soon notice Lady Susan. Not only a dashing, young, ludicrously wealthy heiress, she was also highly intelligent, sharp and the very envy of Helen of Troy. She was a wild bird, he could not cage her, he did not want it, but he could convince her to stay of free will.

He could, too, curtail at all chances her contacts with possible competitors. Ernest had to hand it to himself. Sitting her between Mr Marlcaster and Mr Chambers was resourceful of him. Marlcaster was an engaged idiot, and while the esquire held appreciation for Mr Chambers, he was hardly blind to where his preferences laid.

Hence the also very convenient invitation to Mr Konevi, the Sephardi gentleman who seemed to be quite taken with Chambers.

He could not help but think it was going all so well until he lost his nerve and fled to the gardens. God, he was pathetic.

If it was not enough, he also left Lady Susan alone with the leering Duke.

That thought brought him another wave of anxiety. Lady Susan was inside his house, surrounded by a horde of useless ninnies and a rapist disguised as a peer of the realm.

He jumps to his feet and turns to race inside once again, but as he looks towards the house once more, there stood the very same woman he intended to protect, her eyes shining from the lights of his porch.

“I never understood why we hold the social season so late in the spring. I would much rather to face the heat at the fields, where it is windy, or to wash my feet on the river, than in the stuffiness of London.” Susan says, leisurely fanning herself. “That is to say, I know in the times of old, the landowners were needed at their estates during sowing and harvest, but the idea the likes of the Duke of Karlington to labour in any way makes me laugh.”

Ernest looks deep into her eyes and tries not to disclose the dejection he felt on the corners of his heart in saying, “Is your party not to your satisfaction, Lady Susan?”

“On the contrary, Mr Sinclaire, send my regards to your cook. I am yet to find such a tasteful roasted meat.” She closes her fan and walks over to the shade of the tree, where he currently stood. “Perhaps it was the herbs. You would not know what they use, would you?”

“I do not take much attention to those details, Lady Susan, I apologize.” The esquire punctuates his apology with a nod.

She hummed, unaffected. “Of course, I did not think you would. Foolish of me to ask. Tell me, Mr Sinclaire, what do you like to eat?”

The blond man scoffed. “From our earlier exchanges, Lady Susan, I was led to believe you detested to ‘beat around the bush’, so to speak.”

Susan smiles, amused. “Indeed, I do not favour this kind of behaviour, but I am nothing if not adaptable. I did not think you would appreciate if I came running and fretted over your hysteria.”

He frowned. “I do not have hysteria, Lady Susan.”

She chuckled, sitting on a bench he had installed years prior for reading on days of intense heat. “What would you call it then? Or would you rather me believe your urgent errands consist on circling around a tree and mumble to yourself?”

The brunette tapped the seat next to her, inviting him to join her. He complies with her request, but the slight pout does not subdue.

“You see, Mr Sinclaire, only because I have been taking under my responsibility your regular releases for the past few months, does not mean I cannot be of help in other areas of your life.” She places her hands on his, and he cannot contain a shy smile to spread on his face.

“I am a very capable and, dare I say, forward woman.” The brunette continues. “I understand your wife’s death might be a delicate subject for you, especially if Miss Sutton’s word is to be taken at face value, and I also understand the Duke’s presence is particularly unpleasant for you. I will not press you into details.

“Know that, however, I am here if and when you want to talk about it. I said it before and I will say it again, I do care for your well-being, and it stands regardless of both of our desires to wed at the season’s closing.”

She caresses the sides of his face. “Much as I appreciate your callings for our… nightly activities, I would not mind to heed your way for other business.”

Ernest smiles widely at her, his eyes glinting. “I am so very sorry, Lady Susan. I am a fool.”

She chuckles. “What for, Mr Sinclaire?”

“I once thought you were beneath me, I though you to be some bold coquette who was trying to bite more she could chew.” He breaks eye contact, ashamed of himself. “The truth is you are an extraordinaire woman. I came here to brood like a petulant child, and you had the grace to come and get me, to console me, and to offer more consideration I can possibly make myself worth.”

Lady Susan smiled at the man, and boldly kisses his cheek. “It serves you not to doubt me again. Shall we return to the party?”

Ernest stood tall and offered the woman his hand. “It would be my greatest pleasure, milady.”

Susan took his hand and they walked into the house. For the remainder of the night, her hand did not leave his own, and a smile was never seen away from his features.

Taglist: @catlady0911; @choicesyouplayandmore; @cocomaxley; @llholloway; @mrsernestsinclaire; @shelivesinthewoods; @tornbetween2loves