#Merlin swears it was accidentally left behind

[ink-through-her-veins]

Arthur isn’t an idiot. He knows Merlin’s clothes and he has never seen this pale blue monstrosity of a shirt on Merlin in his life. Plus it’s too big to be Merlin’s. Merlin’s lithe and lean and pale and beautiful—the point is, Arthur knows the tunic isn’t Merlin’s.

“Who’s clothes are these?”

Merlin looks away, like he always does when he lies. And then he proceeds to lie to Arthur, again.

“They’re mine. I washed them special.”

Arthur can’t just shout that he knows he’s wearing Lancelot’s tunic nor can he demand to know why Merlin still has it. With a huff he pulls on the cloak that he recognizes as actually belonging to Merlin and tries not to make it obvious that he’s trying to bury his face in it so he smell Merlin on it.

Later after Gwen offhandedly asks, “Isn’t that Lancelot’s tunic?” Arthur burns the shirt and considers it only fair that he keeps the cloak.

[lilacs-stars]

shattered reflections

pairing: morgie le fay x fem!reader (requested) (note: reader is merlin's daughter) SUMMARY: you, the perfect child and student, have always been the epitome of righteousness. but what happens when you encounter a particularly annoying VK one night, when you're out doing something you're not supposed to? GENRE: pure, unbridled, heart-wrenching angst (I recommend a box of tissues), action scenes, some light humor, a bit of comfort, flirty banter CW: absent mother, neglectful father, family troubles, cursing, magical fighting, a bit of blood, threats, mentions of violence and stealing, heavy emotions WC: 15.2k (to those of you hungry for morgie fics…you have been fed) BACKGROUND: the mirror of ytirev is pronounced yih-tur-ev, the spells are all in latin (for anyone wondering)

A/N: this got a loooot longer and deeper than I thought it would...seriously how did we get here. I had fun adding some touches of light humor to offset the angst, and experimenting with different pov's was nice too. sooo go get comfy and settle down, and have fun reading this! (the ending is worth it I swear). thank you to the anon who requested this for all the details, I hope you enjoy! all feedback is highly appreciated, I'd love to know your thoughts and reactions!

A piercing clatter sounds from somewhere behind you. You whip around, eyes locking with snake-like slits glowing in the dark.

Shit, you think. 

They finally discovered my secret.

“…can anyone explain to me the properties of goblin mucus?” the teacher of your Magical Artifacts and Antiquities class asks.

A hand shoots up, causing a smile to spread on her face as she calls on the student—only to be met with the reply, “Miss, it says in our textbook that there’s a highly powerful and dangerous artifact stored here, in Merlin Academy. What’s that all about?”

The teacher’s smile falters for a brief second, but she answers the question regardless. “Yes, every class today has asked me about that. It seems like it’s only the dangerous objects that attract students’ attention. Class, turn to page two hundred seventy-five, where there is a more detailed explanation.”

Everyone flips through the pages of their books, more eager to learn than they’ve been for the entire lesson. Your teacher waits a moment before continuing.

“As it says in your textbooks, the Mirror of Ytirev is indeed kept in this school, although it is locked away in a very safe and secure place. For everyone’s safety, and the Mirror’s security. Now, can anyone tell me how it was created?”

You raise your hand swiftly, already knowing the answer from having read this chapter before it was even covered in class, along with the next three chapters. “After the creator of the Evil Queen’s magic mirror originally made it, he accidentally dropped it on the floor, causing it to shatter. He reconstructed the mirror using the larger shards, which became the famed mirror that eventually ended up in the hands of the Evil Queen. But there were still many miniscule fragments left from the first mirror, so he melted them again and made a smaller, weaker version of the Evil Queen's mirror. The small mirror is known today as the Mirror of Ytirev.” 

Your teacher beams again at your perfect recitation. “That is precisely correct, Y/N. Although I don’t expect anything less from the headmaster’s daughter, of course.

“This mirror has the ability to show its user exactly one truth, an answer to any question. But since its original form was shattered, its magic is no longer stable. That’s why it is covered in this chapter,” she continues to the class. “As you can see in the image in your textbook, it is a portable artifact, putting it in Category D, Type Three.”

You look down at your textbook, studying the picture of the mirror, despite having looked at it before. It depicts a vintage handheld mirror, encased in a detailed and ornate silver frame that surrounds the glass itself. The intricate carvings of the metal create symmetrical twin arches at the top of the mirror, ending in fancy loops. In these arches two bright red gemstones are set, their edges cleanly cut and shining brilliantly. The glass of the mirror looks almost cracked, although you know it isn't really.

Just as the thought passes through your mind, someone calls out, “Why is the mirror cracked? I thought the creator fixed it.”

The answer pops up in your brain before the teacher even opens her mouth, but you still patiently listen to her as she explains to the rest of the class. “It’s not really cracked, it just appears that way to anyone who looks at it. The only time someone can see the mirror’s smooth surface is if they’re staring directly in the eyes of their own reflection. When someone does this, it is rumored they will see the truest form of themselves, the truth they desire the most.”

Someone else raises their hand, and the teacher calls on them this time. “So,” they ask, “you can get the answer to anything from that? Like how to become rich or live forever?”

The teacher masks what you can tell is a rather displeased look with yet another—fake—smile. She turns to face the entire class, a telltale sign that the student said something wrong. “Now, as we all know, there’s always a price to magic. When it comes to this mirror, due to its unstable powers, there are many prices.”

She continues her lecture, one that provides you with absolutely no new information, but being the ever-diligent student you are, you continue to listen intently. “If you look at the next page, it explains that anyone who wishes to use the Mirror must first present an offering that is very dear to them. If the Mirror accepts the offering, it allows the person to ask their question.” “And if it doesn’t?” your classmate asked.

“Does anyone know the answer to that?” The teacher looks around the class, before her eyes land on you. “Y/N?”

You brighten up at being called on, before rattling off the information as if it was common knowledge. “If the Mirror doesn’t accept the offering, or if it becomes displeased for any other reason, it will drag the person’s soul not to enlightenment, but to eternal torment. They will end up losing their mind and going crazy, with any form of intelligent life getting absorbed by the Mirror.”

“Correct again,” your teacher praises, and you beam. “And if that's not enough to ward any of you off, keep in mind that everyone who has ever used the Mirror has gone completely mad. No one has ever obtained the answer they sought; instead, they were all lost to its evil spirit. And let me assure you, many people throughout history have attempted to use the Mirror, only to fail. Therefore, it was voted as too dangerous for any beneficial uses by the Department of Magical Security. That is why it is contained here, under the watchful eye of our very own Headmaster Merlin.” 

At the mention of your father, everyone turns to stare at you, as if you’re somehow the reason the Mirror is locked up. Despite the stifling moment of silence, you shrug off the unwanted attention. After all, you’re used to this. Used to the looks that other kids give you when you receive special attention from teachers for being the smartest one, for always raising your hand, for answering questions perfectly, for acing every test and having every homework assignment completed—yet refusing to share your answers (“But if I tell you the answers, how will you ever learn?”). 

Used to the whispers that follow you everywhere you go, rumors of your family life; how your mother must have left because of your father’s bad habits, or neglect, or because she was having an affair with another man. Constant reminders of the past.

Used to how everyone walks on eggshells around you, how they all put you on a ledge far away from them. How people’s conversations quiet as you pass by, afraid you’ll go and report them to your father at the slightest whiff of mischief. How they always eye you when they pass notes in class or plan a prank—as if you weren't already aware of what they were doing—sometimes even begging you not to tell on them.

Used to how teachers and adults in your life expect the absolute best of you. Even when there’s no more left of yourself to give. 

How they expect you to be the absolute best, a paragon of righteousness. You always have to determine the right decision, make the right call, be the epitome of morality and virtue. This is your burden to bear, all by yourself; instead of worries over bad grades or boys, you suffer under the crushing weight of the expectations of everyone around you. The expectations of society.

Briiiiiiingg! The sound of the bell marking the end of class snaps you out of your musings. “Um, Miss?” you ask, raising your voice to be heard over the sounds of everyone packing their bags.

“You didn’t tell us what our homework assignment is for tonight.”

“Oh, that’s right! Thank you for reminding me, Y/N,” the teacher exclaims amidst a chorus of groans, along with a few colorful words directed your way. “Everyone, please finish up chapter three and be prepared to turn in your report on seventh century runes by the start of tomorrow’s class.”

After all, you’re used to how right they are about you.

…Or so they think.

“Oh good, Y/N! I was looking for you all over, you know,” a panting, all-too familiar voice calls out from behind you. You freeze in your tracks, grimacing. After a deep breath, you paint a smile on your face, before turning around.

A tall man, although much shorter due to his slouched posture, hurries towards you animatedly. His short, dark brown hair is matted against the top of his head, and a thick, bushy beard trails down from his chin, rounding above his mouth in a matching mustache. He dons a pair of thin spectacles that hang low on his large nose, dressed in a dark blue robe with faint golden embroidery and a waistcoat to match. A little brown stick juts out from a hidden pocket inside his robe, an object you can only assume to be his wand—which you are quite shocked he hadn’t lost today yet.

“Dad!” you say as enthusiastically as you can muster, but if anyone had been looking closely, they would have seen the way you ever so slightly cringe as he stumbles towards you. You silently thank the heavens that this man doesn’t pay much attention to anything. Not even to his own family.

Merlin clambers towards you, gripping one of your shoulders once you’re within arm’s length. He pants, leaning his weight on you as he catches his breath.

“Dad, what is it?” you ask him, trying your best not to fall over from supporting him.

“I-I…k-keys,” he wheezes.

“You lost your keys?” This certainly isn't the first time he’s come to you with this problem, and you definitely won't bet it'll be his last.

He nods, clutching his chest as his breathing finally evens out. “Phew,” he says, letting go of your shoulder. “My spare keys to my office…I can’t seem to find where I’ve put them.”

“You mean that big ring that has a copy of about every single key needed to unlock absolutely anything in this school?” you ask, incredulous at the way he nods feverishly. Honestly, how he doesn’t see the issue with what you just plainly pointed out is beyond you.

“Nope, haven’t seen them,” you reply. “Have you checked under the counter? Inside your desk drawers? In the little pockets sewn in the other pockets in all of your robes? On top of a clothing rack? Under the vase of orchids? In the fish bowl? In the left sock from your pair that has those reindeers on them?”

He nods at each one, sometimes hesitating as if recalling something deep in his memory , but then continuing to fervently nod nonetheless. You sigh again. “Well, I don’t know then. I suppose you’ve found someplace new to hide them this time.”

“Hmm…” he mutters, scratching his beard.

“Well, Dad, I don’t know if you heard, but I, uh, I made top student of my year last quarter. For the fifth consecutive time,” you mention, trying to ease into the conversation, albeit very tentatively and with great unease. Most people’s parents would applaud them and give them a prize for merely getting an A. Yours, on the other hand, barely remembers which grade you’re in.

Your father snaps his head up, staring at you with an eccentric haze in his eyes. You feel a small glimmer of hope; maybe he’s going to give you a pat on the back this time, or perhaps offer to take you out for a celebratory dinner. You wait for his response, completely still as if frozen in time, anticipation buzzing throughout every nerve.

“Wait…I believe I put it in the mouth of that owl statue…” He freezes erratically, brow furrowed in deep concentration, before releasing the tension in his body and going back to slumping. “No, I think I already checked there.”

You take a nice, long, deep breath, using up every last ounce of your carefully practiced self-control, which you had perfected through years of deploying in stifling social situations that made you want to crawl out of your own skin, to remain calm in this moment. “Well, I hope you find it.” Giving him one last attempt at even a semblance of a smile, you sharply turn back around on your heel, continuing down the hall to your first class of the day.

Watching the early morning rays of sunshine through the tall windows of the corridor, you think back to the discussion you had yesterday in your Artifacts class. You had answered every question correctly, every fact written in ink not only committed to memory but etched into the very foundation of your brain. 

You wonder if he knows of all the hard work you put into school. All the grueling hours you spend studying, all the sleepless nights you spend fighting against your body’s very nature to stay awake and keep your eyes open just enough to read the page. Heck, you wonder if he even remembers that your birthday is coming up next month—or that you gave him your wish list ages ago to ensure that he gets at least one present you asked for, unlike other years.

No, of course he doesn’t remember, you remind yourself. He doesn’t care about me. He never did.

Just like he didn’t care about Mom when she disappeared.

“Ugh, my nail chipped again. I should find the girl who did these and squeeze her to death.”

A tentacle floating in midair tightens and coils around nothingness, miming the strangulation of an innocent soul with a disturbing nonchalance. A girl with dark skin and long locks in colors such as blue, teal, and yellow, done up in a small bunch on top of her head, checks the painted nails on her left hand with a scowl on her face. 

“Come on, Uli, you’re getting your nails done like, every week,” the god of the Underworld replies, indifference practically seeping through his spiked leather jacket as he chews gum and gives the sea witch a look. “At least find yourself someone better.”

“Don’t tell me what to do!” Uliana snaps, dropping her hand exasperatedly as she huffs.

A sorceress with purple eyeshadow and two sleek, black horns protruding from the sides of her head rolls her eyes as she complains, “This is so boring.” 

“Well, what do you suggest we do then, love?” a crisply accented voice asks, sounding from a boy with neatly parted brown hair and a golden hook that ends in a sharp, gleaming point.

“Did you hear that there’s a, like, super dangerous magical object being kept here?” Maleficent asks, somehow keeping her voice incredibly monotonous and deathly uninterested, even as her words themselves convey enthusiasm. 

“Yeah, apparently it can tell anyone anything they want to know,” Hades replies. “I don’t know why they’re keeping it here, though.”

Uliana turns back to the group, a malicious glint in her eye. Even before she opens her mouth, the boy with powers rather similar to those of a snake can already guess what she’s going to say.

“How about we go steal it?” she asks, a wicked grin already twisting onto her features.

“You do realize that everyone who’s ever used it has gone mad, right?” Hook asks, raising his eyebrows incredulously as he gives Uliana a look of disbelief.

“We won’t use it ourselves, idiot,” she snaps. “But it’ll be fun to steal it and cause a panic. Right, Morgie?”

Morgie swallows, looking up at Uliana with wide eyes. “Of course! C’mon, you guys. Think of the mischief we can cause with it! We can make people think some kids used it and went crazy”—he leans in, excitement growing as he speaks, making wide gestures with his hands—“and everyone would be so scared! They’d probably cancel school, too!”

Uliana grins diabolically again. “Morgie, honey,” she starts, slipping one of her tentacles under his chin, lifting his face up towards her. “How about you do this one?”

“I-I, uh…” he stammers, uncertainty laced in his voice. He definitely wasn't expecting this turn of events.

“Come on, please,” Uliana pouts. “Do it for me? After all, you’re only stealing a little mirror. How hard can that be?”

Morgie glances up at her again, before tugging uncomfortably on the black scarf wrapped around his neck. “But…it’s super dangerous…”

“Don’t you want to be evil? Don't you want to wreak havoc and cause pain?” Uliana taunts. “Or, are you”—she lets out a faux gasp—“afraid?”

“N-no, not at all!" Morgie exclaims, trying to sound more courageous than he feels. “I’ll do it!”

“Perfect,” the sea witch coos, removing her tentacle arm. “You’ll do it tonight.” She turns back to the group, adding, “I hear that old troll keeps the most dangerous and evil artifacts locked up in a room off the east wing, on the third level.”

Morgie gulps, already trying to wrap his head around the fact that he’d be doing the heist tonight. Hook, jumping off a ledge, asks, “You mean the one guarded by different spells and magical alarms?”

Uliana grins wickedly. “Nothing a little bit of Kraken Powder can’t fix.” She holds up a small vial hanging from a string around her neck like a necklace. It's common knowledge how incredibly rare Kraken Powder is, which makes sense, given how potent its anti-magic properties are.

Everyone catches on to what Uliana's implying, causing the group to all laugh together at their evil plan. Morgie tries his best to join along, but he can’t quite seem to get rid of the uneasy knot already forming in the pit of his stomach.

“You remember the plan?”

Uliana’s slippery tentacles glisten under the moonlight, flailing around behind her in midair. Morgie nods, attempting to still his quivering hands before Uliana notices them. He tries, with a miserable sense of impending doom, to swallow the lump in his throat, but to no avail.

“Here, I stole these from Merlin’s office,” Uliana explains as one of her tentacles drops a large ring filled with probably around two dozen keys, each in various shapes and colors, straight into Morgie's open palm. “One of these has to fit the door. You didn’t forget what you need to do, right?”

Morgie clears his throat, choking out a meager, “Yep.” He pockets the keys, seriously hoping they don’t clink together and make too much noise while he moves. As Uliana already repeated a hundred times, “It’s crucial you don’t get caught.”

Morgie reaches up to touch the vial hanging from his neck yet again, making sure it’s still there—after all, better safe than sorry. Once more, he glances at the large grandfather clock in the common area where he and Uliana lurk in the shadows, waiting. Finally, its bells chime midnight, and Uliana turns back to him as the ringing reverberates around them.

“Go, hurry!” the sea witch urges, pushing him toward the door with a tentacle. 

Morgie nods, hurriedly rushing to the exit. The first part of the plan—a plan he so diligently committed to memory—is for him to sneak out while the bells are still ringing, to mask the sound of the door opening and closing. Thankfully, he makes it out by the tenth chime, carefully closing the door to make sure the latch doesn’t sound by the eleventh.

Okay, I’m really doing this, Morgie thinks as he stares into the deserted corridor. He tiptoes around silently, but still as quickly as possible. Time is, obviously, of utmost importance in missions like this.

At last, he reaches his destination. The unassuming—and misleadingly so—wooden door looms over him, ominous through the lens of his knowledge of what lies beyond it. 

An amateur villain would simply pick the lock and open the door, but Morgie is too experienced in such endeavors to make a rookie mistake like that (Uliana told him what to do, step-by-step).

He hovers his hand above the lock, taking a steadying breath as he summons the powers that reside within him. His pupils shrink into the tiniest slivers of blackness as a dark, magical smoke emits from his palm. He makes a faint hissing noise, reciting an old incantation in a tongue far different from what normal humans use, and the lock softly clicks as the door creaks open. Practically inviting him inside.

Morgie pushes it open the rest of the way, making sure to shut it behind him so as to not raise the suspicion of any night guards roaming the halls.

He turns back around, now faced with a dark, menacing hallway. Walking slowly down it, he looks around with a chilling captivation. Old suits of armor leer down at him, rustic and each coated with a thick layer of dust. Large spiderwebs cover every visible nook and cranny, which makes Morgie exceedingly grateful that the actual spiders aren't in his line of sight.

At the end of the corridor stands yet another large door, matching the first. This one, according to Uliana, has even more security than the other. Time to use my secret weapon, Morgie thinks, reaching to pull the vial of Kraken Powder out from under his shirt. He opens the cap and sprinkles a little of the finely grained dust into his palm, then blows it over the lock of the door.

At first glance, it appears the powder didn’t work, as nothing seem to change. But anyone with an affinity for magical energy can feel the spells placed on the lock of the door melt away without a trace. After the door is unarmed, Morgie fishes in his pocket for the keys. They clang horribly as he pulls them out, echoing up into the tall ceiling of the hallway. He freezes, listening intently for footsteps somewhere outside. When he hears none, Morgie begins the task of figuring out which key fits the lock.

He goes through nearly half the ring (Seriously, who keeps all their keys in one place?) before finding the one that fits perfectly. Twisting it with a swift movement, the door unlocks, and he creeps inside. 

To his immense shock, there isn't a room behind the door filled with evil objects or piled with gold coins. Instead, there’s a…

…library?

Morgie walks inside, utterly confused. Had Uliana gotten the location wrong? No, there's no way. The doors were too guarded for a normal library.

He continues down one of the aisles, wondering why he's never seen this place before. It is extremely large, with arched ceilings meters and meters above his head. Tall bookshelves tower over him, so tall that he can barely see the highest shelves.

Lined against the walls and placed on the shelves are also glass jars and containers filled with seemingly normal items: a seashell necklace, a deck of playing cards, a cane with the head of a snake. But there's something sinister about them; some strange aura that hovers above each object. In fact, it fills the entire expanse of the library. 

Morgie stops by one of the shelves, reading the titles. He brushes his fingers along one of the spines—and that’s when he feels it. An ominous energy rushes through his fingertips, electrifying his every nerve at it travels through him, causing him to realize that this is no normal book. It’s a book of dark magic.

He spins around in a circle, eyeing the entirety of the library. Now that he thinks about it, the whole place has the heavy atmosphere of dark magic. And that’s when it hits him: this is no normal library, and neither are the books. This is the room of forbidden artifacts. It just so happens that most of those artifacts are books, probably containing content deemed too dangerous for normal people to learn.

Morgie briefly considers taking a few of the books off the shelves and perusing through them, or maybe even slipping a couple in his jacket and taking them back with him. After all, all these forbidden books must have countless evil spells and potions. If he and the rest of his group got their hands on these…

However, after a moment of serious consideration, he decides the better of it. He's here for another purpose, and Uliana would be outraged if he only came back with a few meager books, no matter the contents.

Continuing through the labyrinth of shelves, Morgie looks around meticulously, trying to figure out a rhyme or reason to the order of things. No student has ever been in here, and he doubts many of the teachers have, either. Therefore, there were no references or guides to help him and his friends figure out where in the room the Mirror is located. Plus, he doesn’t think any of them had expected the place to be so colossal—he surely hadn't.

After a few minutes of stumbling around in the near darkness, he finally comes across a ladder leaning against one of the shelves. It’s so tall he can’t see the top of it, but deciding it’s his best chance at finding his bearings, Morgie begins the long climb up.

He isn’t really afraid of heights. Not in the way that some people refuse to go on anything more than a few feet off the ground. But he honestly doesn’t see how anyone couldn’t feel at least a little queasy at the high altitude. I must be a dozen meters off the ground, Morgie realizes as he glances down. I wonder what would happen if I fell—

He cuts the thought off before he can imagine the gruesome details. Instead, he looks back up and around the library. From all the way up here, he can see the top of the shelves, and he really was right: this place was designed to be a maze.

On the far side of the area, his eyes spot lots of glass cases reflecting the soft moonlight and flames of enchanted candles. That must be where most of the objects are kept. Chances are, the Mirror’s there too.

He mentally charts out a course through the labyrinth, trying to remember the directions for more than two seconds. Right, left, left again, forward, right, right again, left, forward—or wait, was it right? After a few minutes, he climbs back down the ladder, praying to the demons of the Underworld that he remembers the path correctly and doesn’t get lost.

Morgie makes his way through the maze, growing more and more fascinated by the creepy and wonderful objects around him. He can’t stop thinking about how nice—and useful—it would be to pocket some of them, or maybe come back here and spend more time studying them. Every time he passes by something that intrigues him, his mind immediately wonders if it would fit inside his clothes.

Despite this, he resists the urge to steal things, as he can’t have anything weighing him down in case there are more challenges or enchantments he has to disarm before getting the Mirror. But perhaps on the way back…

His train of thought drifts away as he finally reaches a large area that is surrounded by glass cases, on tables and lining the shelves set into the walls. He never imagined there would be so many forbidden artifacts in total, much less in one place, although maybe that's because he's never really paid attention in class.

From the top of a shelf a few meters away, something catches his eye. A mysterious, eerie white fog pours from one of the highest shelves, dissipating as it cascades down the front of the bookcase. He remembers hearing something about mist related to the Mirror, and deciding it’s worth a shot, he moves closer to check it out.

And that’s when he sees it.

A dark flurry of movement from another one of the top shelves catches his attention. Morgie snaps his head up, brows furrowing as he squints, eyes trailing the structures above him. But he can’t quite make out anything, at least not in the faint light, so he hesitantly shrugs it off and continues towards the mysterious fog—albeit not being able to shake off the strange feeling he has that makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

He takes a few more steps, and just as he's nearly convinced himself he’s only being paranoid, it happens again. Now that he’s closer, he can see there’s another tall ladder reaching up to around where the movement is happening, close to the Mirror. This time, his eyes register the shape. 

A dark, human figure moves up the ladder, blending in and out of the shadows. 

Morgie’s eyes grow wide, pupils shrinking back into snake-like slits as a reptilian hiss escapes his mouth. There shouldn't be anyone else here.

The figure freezes in place before turning around to face him, hanging halfway up the ladder. Although Morgie can’t see their face, concealed by a thick black hood, he can tell they saw him. 

He stretches out his arms, summoning black magic that swirls around his hands and up to his elbows again. After but a second of him and the hooded figure staring at each other—which somehow felt like an hour—Morgie throws his arm forward, aimed for the figure.

A ball of twisting dark energy shoots from his hand and towards the hooded face. The figure ducks down, dodging the attack. Undeterred, Morgie hurls more swirls of dark magic. The figure dodges the first few of them, but they must have realized that merely ducking down won't be enough to win this fight, because they summon a shield of buzzing yellow electricity to block the next few attacks.

Morgie quickly becomes aware that he isn’t winning the fight like this; he needs a new strategy. And that’s when he spots it.

He puts his hands close together in front of his chest, gathering a potent sphere of black magic between his palms. The figure stands there, motionless, still hanging onto the ladder.

If you can’t knock them down, pull the carpet out from under their feet.

He thrusts both of his hands forward, sending the ball of magic not at the figure, but at the base of the ladder instead. By the time they realize what he's doing, it’s too late.

Morgie’s magic collides with the bottom rungs, exploding the material and sending wooden splinters flying everywhere. He watches as the figure falls, swiftly summoning a flash of lightning below them as they plummet, easing the crash as they hit the ground. 

The aftermath of the explosion has Morgie ducking down and covering his face with his arm, barely being able to make out what happened to the hooded person. As the dust finally settles, Morgie spots the figure get up, gripping their head as if in pain. They stumble a little, then bush off their black robe as they check for other injuries.

As if abruptly remembering why they had fallen, they spin around to face Morgie. He stares, wide-eyed in pure disbelief, as the figure comes face-to-face with him. Even though they don’t seem to be too hurt, and definitely still alive, the force of the impact caused their hood to be knocked off their head.

Morgie’s mouth drops open as he registers the figure’s face.

There, in front of him, in the forbidden archive harboring some of the world's most dangerously powerful magical objects during the dead of night, stands the headmaster’s daughter.

Your grimace grows as you lock eyes with a boy with light brown hair, hazel eyes shrunk into slits resembling a snake’s, causing your head to throb even worse.

You watch as the realization dawns upon the boy’s face, cursing the skies for this little issue that you now have to deal with.

He knows your secret.

“Y-you, you, you’re the headmaster’s daughter,” he sputters out, disbelief still painted on his face, as clear as day. Seriously, if he keeps his jaw open like that, it’ll fall off.

“Yeah, no shit,” you spit back, not paying much attention to his stunned little face. Your mind is overwhelmed with a swirling whirlwind of thoughts and ideas on how to get rid of this new liability, each plan vying for your attention, each one crueler than the last.

After all, now that he knows who you really are, how you're not a rule-abiding goody-goody, there’s no point in keeping up your sweet, innocent facade. You finally let your mask slip off, the mask that you wear constantly in the presence of others. The mask that you only relieve yourself of when you’re all alone, with no one to see your callous, vindictive, cynical side. Your true side.

Ever since that day, at least. The day that forever changed your life.

“What are you doing here?” the boy stammers, as if it isn't already dreadfully obvious.

“The same thing you’re doing here.” “How do you know what I’m doing here?”

You sigh, rubbing your temples. Honestly, this kid could not be more of a dunderhead. “Look, I don’t have time for this. Either get out of my way, or I’ll make you get out of my way.”

At your threat, the boy, whose name you happen to remember from a class you took with him last year, changes his stance. Morgie widens his legs, arms fanned out besides him whilst summoning dark energy that clings to his skin, alive and breathing, yet submissive to its master’s will.

“Aren’t you like, a goody-goody?” he asks, face still scrunched in confusion. “I’ve heard teachers go on and on about how good your grades are, how polite you are, how you’re the perfect student.”

You roll your eyes, annoyed at his relentless questions. It 's already bad enough that he knows this much. You don't need him finding out more.

“Well, looks can be deceiving,” you respond as vaguely as possible, hoping that it’ll shut him up. Instead, he cocks his head to the side, shooting back, “I don’t really think so.”

You try your best to not encourage him and his irritating questions, but you can’t help but begrudgingly ask, “How so?”

Morgie looks at you for a beat with an intent gaze, before replying, “I always thought you were too pretty for a hero.”

Uh, excuse me, what? you think. Now it’s your turn to be shocked. “You don’t find me scary?” You had always assumed that people would be terrified if they saw your real, unfiltered side.

“No, not really. I mean, I’m evil too. If anything, I find you even hotter now that I know you’re not a goody-goody.”

Blinking hard, your eyebrows shoot into the air. There is no way he just said that. Your mind is uncontrollably reeling at his words, but only for a brief moment. Before you can read too deeply into it, your attention is quickly snapped back to the black magic still swirling around him, growing by the second. Ah, a ploy to distract me. Maybe he is more clever than he lets on.

“Listen, Morgie,” you snarl threateningly. “That mirror is mine.”

“Wait, you’re here for the Mirror too?” he asks, with far too light a tone for a situation such as this.

“Th-that was obvious the whole time!” you exclaim, unbelievably irritated. “What did you think I was here for?” “I dunno, a book or something.” He shrugs casually, before narrowing his eyes. “Wait, what do you want the Mirror for?”

“That’s none of your business,” you snap back, fingers thrumming with the rush of energy as you summon your own magic. Letting your curiosity get the better of you yet again, you add, “Why do you want it?”

“I’m a villain. I steal things for fun,” he replies, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “What does a goody-two-shoes hero want to do with a forbidden artifact?”

Barely listening to his words, you study him carefully, needing to know the extent of his powers if you’re going to win the inevitable fight that you can sense coming. You see how his ever-growing dark magic stalls temporarily as he talks, probably from getting distracted while speaking. That’s it. Deciding to buy yourself some time, you use this little weakness to your advantage.

“I want the Mirror because I want to use it.” Even though you’re planning on entertaining his pointless questions, you definitely aren’t going to give him information for free.

“Use it? To get an answer?” His magic hesitates again.

“No, to look at myself.” You see the way his eyebrows furrow in confusion, and you’re pretty sure you’re about to implode. “Of course to get an answer, you dumbass! Unlike you, I don’t go risking my life ‘for fun.’”

“What are you even going to use as an offering? You have to give it something, you know.”

You sigh, reaching underneath your shirt to pull out a small silver locket, its chain blackened from the trials of time. Dangling it from your fingers, you show it to Morgie.

“A locket?” he asks incredulously. “The offering's supposed to be something really special or precious.”

“It is really precious,” you hiss, tucking it back into your shirt. “It’s the most precious thing I own. If anything’s going to make the Mirror work, it’s this.”

“Well, you’re not going to get the Mirror anyways. It’s mine.” He widens his stance again, his magic continuing to grow around him. No, I need a little more time, you think, masking your growing panic with an insouciant eye roll.

“Why?” you question. “You’re not even going to use it.”

“I still need it.” “But why?”

“I won’t tell you if you won’t tell me!” he exclaims. Despite his little outburst, you can tell there’s something he’s hiding. After all, you are a master of concealing the truth yourself. “Plus, you know that everyone who's ever used the mirror has gone crazy, right? You’re literally sentencing yourself to a life of madness.” You give him an unamused look. “I’m the top of our year. Obviously I know everything there is to know about the Mirror of Ytirev.”

He gazes at you in a way you can’t decipher, but it’s softer, more sympathetic than his former glare. You notice that his snake eyes have disappeared as well, despite the magical energy still surrounding him. “Then why are you still doing this, despite the risks?”

You falter, for just a second, letting a sliver of emotion slip through. But as quickly as it happened, you patch it back up, returning to your cold, glowering face. “It’s a price I’m willing to pay.” You expect him to drop it after that, but he continues to press you. “You’re prepared to give up your morals? Your status as a hero? You’re willing to lose all your integrity for one answer?”

God, he talks too much. With a sniff, you throw your hands out in front of you, releasing a bright flash of crackling electricity that had been building up as you cry out, “I don’t care how evil I have to become, I will find the truth, one way or another!”

The lightning shoots forward without warning, hot as an inferno, piercing straight through his chest and flinging him backwards into a shelf like a ragdoll. He falls down to his knees, and for a split second, you wonder if he���s going to get up again. Clutching his chest, he wheezes yet still manages to stand up, summoning wispy black tendrils that shoot at you like arrows.

You tuck and roll, dodging them, whilst building up more crackling lightning between your fingers. The last tendril hits far too close to you for comfort, burning a hole in your robe. That would have been my flesh, had it hit me, you realize in sudden horror.

Seeing as how your opponent is summoning even more dark magic to hit you with, now engulfing his entire body, you break into a sprint. Black spears collide with the shelves behind you one after another, barely missing you, as you run past glass cases, each containing a different artifact that glistens in the silver moonlight. Something across the arena seizes your attention, and a plan begins to piece itself together in your head. You continue your dash towards the shelves behind Morgie. Once you reach a section with books instead of random magical objects, you slow your pace. Amidst Morgie's unrelenting attacks, you create a golden shield of electricity that sparks and crackles, almost alive, and which reaches as tall as you. You jog past the shelves, head craned as you scan the book titles as quickly as possible.

Morgie persists in launching balls of dark magic directly at you, smashing into your shield. Your panic rises as cracks begin to form, at first only small fissures, but growing larger and larger with each sphere that pummels your way.

You run parallel to the shelf, which boxes in the rest of the area in a rectangular shape, eyes frantically darting over words with barely enough time for your brain to comprehend them.

Glancing up as a whorl of blackness blasts the books resting directly in front of you, you duck down, yet continue to run. That’s when you see a thick tome, larger than the others and bearing a dark red cover, jutting out from a shelf a few meters in front of you. With your magical shield barely staying intact, you lunge towards it, snatching the book as you fall towards the ground and somersault behind a desk-sized wooden stand to hide. On top of it stands a glass display case, with faint candlelight illuminating the rustic, yet enchanted, metal shield contained inside it.

You crouch down, flipping through the pages of the book desperately, trying to find the incantation you know has to be in there. One time, on one of your random visits to the library—the normal one, not this hell of the most cursed items in the land—you had picked up a text that talked about the history of spellcasting. Detailed inside was a description of one of the first books of curses ever written, which had been banned from production shortly after its release due to the nature of its contents. There had been a small sketch next to the explanation, which just so happens to match the tome now weighing in your hands.

Morgie’s blasts of magic don’t stop, pounding the wooden stand and the glass case alike. You think he yells something, but you can’t tell; you’re too focused on squinting at the fine print on the page, eyes wildly scanning the names of the spells. The desk quakes with every attack, causing your hands to tremble as you rifle through the pages hastily, pointer finger trailing down the lists of incantations. 

Finally, your eyes lock onto the one you want. “Obiectum impedit semitam,” you recite, gaze darting between the page and the glass case above you. It quivers vigorously, yet remains unscathed due to its magic-bulletproof nature.

“Evanescet a lumine irae meae!” As soon as the last syllable leaves your tongue, the glass case dissipates into thin air. Your hand darts up, clutching the shield and shoving it in front of you. Just in time, as the wooden stand protecting you explodes from the force of Morgie’s dark magic, blasting into a shower of mere splinters that rain down around you. The shockwave causes you to recoil, even as the shield absorbs the brunt of the impact.

Quickly regaining your bearings, you crouch even lower behind the metal. Thumbing through the book pages briskly, your eyes skim the ink, trying to find the first spell that can help you now. 

“Inimicus meus, caveto tibi,” you mutter the incantation rapidly, trying your best not to stumble over the archaic words—who knows what sort of havoc that would make. “Transi me et in carcere gelido capieris.”

You peek your head over the shield as you say the last line, locking in on your target. He stands there, panting, worn from his latest, potent attack. Morgie barely has enough time to widen his eyes as the final word escapes your mouth, instantly creating ice stalagmites that burst forth from the ground, crisscrossing as they trap him in a prison of ice. They tower high all around while entrapping him in a circle, frost coating their sleek outsides, which narrow into dangerously sharp tips.

The air turns frigid, and you can see flurries of movement as Morgie thrashes within his glacial cell. Already, he’s trying to break out. Through the cracks between the icicles, you can see a swirling vortex of black magic fighting the freezingly cold charm. Even though it is a strong spell, you know it won’t last for long. Especially not with the dark energy that is slowly, yet surely, thawing out the ice.

Springing up again, you bolt to the shelves on the other side, jumping over small puddles forming on the floor. The book is still open in your hands as you wildly tear through one page after another, the minuscule words shaking and blurring together as you run. Honestly, what kind of asshole decides to print in such a tiny font? you internally rage. Flipping through the large sheets of paper filled with small text reminds you of reading a dictionary. In a way, the spellbook is a dictionary of sorts, with the way every curse is listed alphabetically, in a neat and orderly manner—much unlike your current frenzied state, with how your heart pounds against your chest as if trying to break free, and the adrenaline coursing through your veins cuts off any semblance of a coherent thought forming in your brain.

Twisting sharply to your right, you dart towards the shelf that the Mirror stands on. You stare up at it as you continue to run, eyes practically sending a silent plea while it sits on its throne undisturbed, watching the scenes before it unfold as if viewing a play from the highest seat in the opera house; somehow mildly amused, yet still condescendingly blasé at the same time.

Flipping to the L section of the spellbook, you scan the page for a spell that can help you reach it at last. Finally finish the last stretch of your journey. 

The icicle prison behind you makes a dreadfully loud crack. Your heart only races even faster with a jolt, your breathing coming out only in sharp, erratic gulps that make you feel light-headed, as if you’re not getting enough oxygen no matter how much you gasp for air. 

As you scan the page, this time with a renewed fervor that has your eyes darting across the words, too panicked to even finish a sentence before leaping to the next, you make a very interesting revelation indeed. For whatever reason, the genius who wrote this book decided not to add levitation to the list of spells, but instead included lignum pullelare, which roughly translates to “sprouting a tree”.

Another thunderous boom sounds again from the constantly fracturing icicles, a violent reminder of the ticking clock. You decide that this spell, no matter how absurd, is the best shot you have. Inhaling another sharp breath that burns your lungs, you cry, “Surge, virens gigas, de terra immunda,” your eyes glued to the page. “Ascendunt ad lunam et super caelos!”

A branch smashes into your chest, knocking the wind out of you—you really need to get used to how quickly these spells take effect—lifting you up as a colossal tree ascends from the ground, growing much more rapidly than even a beanstalk, much less a normal tree. The metal shield slips out of your grasp from the impact, your fingers desperately flailing in its direction futile as it falls and hits the floor with a dull thud.  

Your get snapped back to the present from the momentary distraction as your body starts slipping off the branch, with how it's quickly growing into a thick, strong limb with no end in sight. You slide off the ever-stretching wood, scratches cutting into your arms as you frantically try to wrap them around the branch, until only your hands are still hanging on. Using the book, which remains gripped firmly in one hand, you fling it open and cling to each cover. The book's pages spread wide around the wood as you hold on for dear life.

You continue shooting upwards along with the tree, the bookcase racing past you, when a realization hits you like a strike of lightning. This tree won’t stop growing anytime soon, and when it does, you’ll be too high up—if you're still alive, that is.

Glancing above you, you spot the Mirror and the shelf it sits on getting closer, and getting closer fast. Making up your mind, or rather, making a brash decision fueled by your skyrocketing panic, you wait until the shelf you need to reach comes into view. Then, you jump off. 

Flinging yourself towards the bookcase, you manage to latch on to a shelf, fingers wrapping around the ledge while your feet find purchase on another ridge a few feet below. The book remains clutched in one hand, your iron grip refusing to let it go. Realizing you can't do anything while holding it, you risk letting go with one hand. Gripping onto the shelf with your other hand, you tuck the book under your chin, angling your head down as you struggle to hold it between your neck and body. 

You peer up at your grasp on the shelf, the unforgiving ridges digging into your skin, carving painful lines into your fingers. Your feet barely remain balanced, the ledge not jutting out as far as you’d like it to. Turning your heels in to stay on the little shelf space there is in front of the books, you wince as the ridges between your arms and legs bite into your body. The sweat coating your palms causes your grip to start slipping off, your eyes wide in sheer terror as you let go for a brief second, thrusting your hands further back and hooking onto the edge again.

Glimpsing back down, you see the Mirror resting in its glass cage a few shelves below you, the strange white mist slithering underneath the glass and pouring out over the bookcase like a waterfall. With your chin still uncomfortably positioned as to not lose the book, you release on hand and leg from the shelf, leaving you hanging in between life and death itself.

You move your free hand down one ledge below, then the corresponding foot, haltingly scaling your way down the bookcase. Each time precariously letting go of your grip or footing to blindly feel below yourself for another ledge to stay on. After a few iterations, your feet finally stand on the same shelf as the Mirror, right next to the glass case.

Another piercing boom echoes behind you, making you squeeze your eyes shut as you flinch against the bookcase, quivering breaths sending your heartbeat shooting through the roof. Your eyes dart down to the book you squeeze with your neck, then to where your hands are barely clinging on to the shelf. There’s no chance of using the book to make the glass disappear again. Cursing yourself for not memorizing the incantation earlier, your mind swarms with thoughts, each one so loud they drown out each other.

An idea forms in your head—or rather, slams itself into the sides of your brain like a wave crashing in a bottle while it screams for attention—as you warily lift one foot on top of the heel of the other shoe, maneuvering it off your foot.

Now with only a sock left, you press your toes against the glass container. Inhaling a sharp breath, causing your lungs to ache as they scream for more, you muster enough energy to summon a bolt of lightning, focusing all your attention on passing electrical current through your body and to your foot.

The hotness of the electricity heats up the glass, melting it until there’s a decent-sized hole the size of your foot there. Shuffling to the side and raising your shoeless foot to the ledge above, you draw back your other leg and smash it into the glass, causing the compromised structure to shatter everywhere.

Climbing down the bookcase farther, you come face-to-face with the Mirror of Yteriv at last. It looks exactly like it was depicted in that textbook, sporting an elegant silver frame and seemingly shattered surface, with the two rubies staring at you like glowing eyes. 

A loud explosion rings behind you, resounding throughout the entire library. You snatch the Mirror with one hand, turning your head to the side as far as you can without letting the book slip, just in time to see Morgie demolish the ice prison as he breaks free.

It's clear that since now he's no longer bound by frozen spikes of ice, you’re his next target. Taking in an abrupt gasp of air—the only preparation you have—you let go of the shelf.

You plummet towards the ground for only a second before creating small thunderbolts beneath each of your feet, suspending you in midair. Already, you can see Morgie charging up another attack, aiming it straight at you. Book in one hand, Mirror in the other, you take off into a run through the air. Small platforms of electricity form beneath your feet with every step, dissipating again as soon as your foot lifts.

Balls of dark magic hurl towards you, and you already know you have no chance of winning this fight—not like this. But you don’t need to win. Glancing down at the Mirror clutched in your palm as you jump off a thunderbolt, right as it gets blasted by a black orb, you realize that you’ve already completed your mission. Now, all that’s left is to get out of here.

Your mind scrambles for a way out that doesn’t involve getting blasted into smithereens, eyes still fixed on the Mirror as you continue to dash around in midair. Watching the wispy tendrils of white smoke pour out of the artifact, a previous memory from something you read in a book hits you like a flash.

As the Mirror of Ytirev connects to its wielder’s soul, so do its properties, the book had said. The mist emitted by the Mirror fluctuates with the wielder’s emotions; the more powerfully one feels their emotions, negative ones in particular, the more smoke it produces.

A room filled with smoke? You can’t think of a more perfect cover to help you escape.

Grip tightening even further around the Mirror as you leap to another lightning platform, dodging a new attack, you rack your brain for every negative emotion you have—which turns out to be a lot. The adrenaline pumping through your veins as your life flashes before your very eyes from every near-death experience. The way your heart shatters a little more every time your father overlooks your accomplishments, not paying any mind to how hard you strive to please him. Just to get a single smile, a pat on the back, a meager look of pride in your direction. One simple “That’s my daughter!” sent your way.

The anger deep inside you starts to bubble, pure rage sizzling and growing hotter every second you spend lost in your emotions. A fury that is always there, making every breath a little shorter, every happy moment a little duller. A dormant feeling that is usually left undisturbed, except for when it's triggered. Then it becomes a fire that burns hotter than any flame in the depths of hell.

The emotions and thoughts and memories that you keep suppressed in a corner of your heart all coming flooding out, like a dam finally bursting free. How could everyone strand you like that? Leave you all alone to suffer through your grief, while always expecting you to be kind and cheerful. They know what happened, and they have to know how badly it hurts. Yet not a single one cares. Not your dad, not your teachers, not your friends. No one in the entire world ever so much as offered a shoulder for you to cry on or gave you a comforting smile. Not one “I’m here for you” or “It’s all right, take your time.” No, all they did was raise their expectations, setting the bar so high until you’re barely clinging to it, trying to pull yourself up despite your weary arms. Lifting it to such heights that losing your grip and falling would mean certain death.

You think of the snarling, twisted animal that resides deep inside you, embedded into your very being, clawing at the aching hole in your heart left by the absence of your mother. Finally letting it break free after being caged for so long, you feel, oh-so agonizingly, how it scratches its way up your throat and escapes you in a wretched sob.

Why did she leave me? How could she leave me? I’m her daughter, for fuck’s sake. Who can abandon their child like that? Does she not care about me? 

Did she ever even love me?

Painful thoughts consume your head as a few stray tears run down your cheek. You grit your teeth, sucking in shaky gasps of breaths. Smothered by your anguish, submerged in emotion.

Yet, despite all this, it works. Remembering the entire point of your self-inflicted despair, your head snaps down to the Mirror. Although your legs burn and throb from all the incessant running, you can’t stop. At least not yet.

Thick fog exudes from the Mirror, rapidly engulfing the whole of the arena. Within a few moments, everything is covered in the dense whiteness, so heavy you can barely see your hand, even if you hold it directly in front of your face.

Morgie disappears in the fog as well, to the point where you can no longer see nor hear him. Assuming that he’s no longer a threat for now—if you can’t see him, he can’t see you, and if he can’t see you, he can’t attack you—you summon a staircase of thunderbolts and walk down it until you safely step onto solid ground.

Your legs practically give way at the first touch of hard floor, the urge to collapse and lie on the ground excruciatingly strong. Mustering up the last of your strength and willpower, you force your feet to step one after another, desperately trying to distract yourself from the fire burning in your muscles at even the strain of supporting your own weight. 

Almost done. Almost.

Practically rendered blind by the all-encompassing mist, you keep one hand outstretched, making sure you won’t collide with anything—especially Morgie. Pocketing the Mirror, you continue through the fog. You had made sure to note your direction in relation to the exit before everything became completely invisible as to help you easily find your way out without getting lost. But after a few minutes in the overwhelming whiteness, you start to doubt yourself. 

What’s even worse is that there’s no sign of Morgie. You’re not foolish enough to expect him to pop up right in front of you, but you don’t hear him making any sounds either. No footsteps, no breathing, nothing. Your strides are far more muffled as you take your other shoe off too, annoyed at the limping effect the difference in heights causes. But nothing from him.

Your mind starts wandering to what happened to him, refusing to admit that the smallest part of you feels the tiniest bit concerned. Does he need help? Is he still alive? Your intentions were to steal the Mirror and disarm him, not kill him. You’re not evil enough for that.

Not yet, anyway.

After stumbling through the murky fog for a bit longer, you start to notice that now, you can see your hand extended in front of you. The fog is thinning, you think, which means I must be nearing the edge of this area and heading towards the bookcases.

A little bit further, and the fog disperses to all but a thin mist. The bookshelves in front of you come into view, the rows and rows of them finally visible as they expand into the distance. Follow those, and you’ll find the door you came in through. 

So, so close…

You take a few more steps, the heavy spellbook still in hand as you reach into your pocket with an unusual, yet profound, sense of paranoia, ensuring the Mirror is still there. Out of nowhere, you feel a strange sort of chill cover your feet. You chalk it up to your lack of shoes, but, not being able to resist the urge, you glance down.

That’s when you see strange feathery tendrils of black smoke on the floor, in stark contrast to the thin mist that hangs in the air. They slither and wrap around your feet as they move, condensing together in front of you and rising up a meter off the ground in the shape of a hissing black cobra.

The cobra flares out its hood whilst flicking its tongue at you, swaying side to side as it stretches to its full height. You stumble backwards, hesitating for only a second too long before it dawns on you where the snake came from.

Behind you, a brooding voice sounds. “Going somewhere?” Morgie asks.

You spin around sharply, dismay and a special breed of horror painted on your face as you turn to face him. “I don’t care what you do, the Mirror is mine,” you growl, shooting him a lethal glare that truly could kill.

“I don’t think so.” He gathers more black magic around his palm, creating an orb that whirls around like a dark, spherical tornado. You both stare into each other’s eyes for a moment, a fracture in time, trying to decide your next move—when he suddenly throws his hand forward.

You flinch away, yanking the book in front of your face as a shield. After a second, when you don’t feel anything, you open your eyes, turning back in his direction in confusion.

And that’s when you see that you weren't the target of his attack.

The book in front of you was.

The dark magic gnaws at it from the back cover, where it hit on impact, eating away at the pages. “No!” you scream, desperately flipping through the paper as the magic destroys it. Your own magic may be quite strong, but since you're barely allowed to practice it, it’s nowhere near the son of Morgana’s abilities or prowess. This book was your only chance at defeating him.

Frantically rifling through the pages, a look of pure horror on your face, you try to scan the spells for something to save you. Teleportation is soon gone, as well as fireball. As soon as you catch a glimpse of a spell name that could be helpful, the incantation is instantly obliterated.

Panic building faster than even the speed of the dark magic, you flip to the front of the book, trying to find a spell at the beginning of the alphabet so you have enough time to actually read the incantation.

But apple is of no use, and neither is bridge. Morgie stands there, gaze transfixed on your struggling form, wickedly smiling with an amused raise of his eyebrows. Guess he really is a villain after all.

The black energy eroding the book spreads across both covers, demolishing the tome as you hold it in your feverishly trembling hands. Your eyes race across the letters, desperate to find one that could even have a chance at saving you.

Dragon, no.

Claws, not that.

Chasm, not that either.

None of these will help me! your internal voice screeches, the book dissipating as you hold it. Then, your eyes snag along a word.

Chains. The perfect spell. 

“Ut qui inritat, catenas sentiat iras,” you wildly spit out, heart racing, tongue unable to move fast enough. Your eyes dart frenziedly ahead of your mouth, running on sheer panic as you try to memorize the words in case the book does disappear. “Pati in compedibus, ut solvas pretium peccatorum tuorum,” you continue to cry out.

As the last fibers of the pages evaporate in black fumes, you thrust a hand in Morgie’s direction, yelling the last few words. “Eris enim sine fuga ligatus!”

Nothing.

Then, boom.

The residual magic from the demolished book, no longer contained in a physical form, explodes, the force sending you flying backwards. You soar for a couple feet before colliding with a shelf behind you, your head slamming against a sharp edge.

You crumple to the floor, body bruised, beaten, and bloody. The world spins, your head throbs, and you feel so generally shitty that you want to crawl out of your body and leave this physical hindrance behind.

Your head feels too heavy to lift up, and so it falls forward, swaying back and forth. A warm sensation on the back of your skull draws your senses back to the present, and you lift one weary hand to the spot. Bringing it back down in front of your face, you see a whole lot of red smothered on it, just as more trickles down onto the base of your head and neck.

Groaning, you lift your face to scan your surroundings as the dust settles yet again. The fog is now almost completely gone, allowing you to see rather clearly. Sight still blurry, you barely make out the figure a few meters in front of you as heavy chains whip up from the floor, wrapping around his arms.

More spring up around his legs, dragging him down and causing his knees to buckle. He fights against the metal, but they only tighten as even more encircle his torso, tethering him to the ground. He leans forwards, now kneeling before you, arms spread out and chained to the floor on either side.

In front of him, halfway between you two, lies the Mirror of Yteriv, face-up on the floor.

Scrambling to get up, you slowly manage to stand, leaning your weight on the bookcase behind you. The ground sways underneath your feet, but you don’t collapse. One shaky step after another, you make your way over to the mirror.

You practically crumple to the floor as you lean down to snatch it up, the sounds of chains rattling against each other echoing through your head as their prisoner resists his bonds.

You straighten again, running your fingers over every millimeter of the Mirror’s surface to ensure that the cracks reflected on it are only part of its usual appearance and not actual damage caused during the explosion. Once you're sure of its safety, you look down at the figure shackled in front of you.

Morgie looks up at you, hair disheveled and face bruised, a few drops of blood spattered on his cheek. His eyes are a storm of anguish and a wounded kind of sorrow, his jaw clenched tight. You’d like to think that he isn’t peering up at you, body tied and bound, with resentment etched into his features, but you know you’d be lying to yourself.

He gives another violent tug against the chains, but to no avail. Neither of you speak a word, remaining in complete silence, yet somehow saying a thousand things through your eyes. You stare down at him, at the way he can barely lift his head due to his restraints, the agony swirling in his eyes tugging at your heartstrings in ways that make you ache through your core. 

But you’ve already come this far. You can’t turn back now.

The deafening silence remains as you raise the Mirror up in front of yourself, the white mist wrapping around you as if beckoning you closer. The red eyes glow even brighter, their judgment intensifying as your reflection begins to appear in the glass. The cracks on the surface slowly fade away as you come into view, until finally revealing a completely smooth and unmarred image as you gaze into your own eyes.

Except they aren’t yours.

Your reflection in the mirror is not of yourself, but of a younger version of you. She smiles effulgently, a pure, innocent sparkle of wonder in her eyes. A look of untainted bliss painted on her face as she beams. 

A look you haven’t seen in your own reflection for a long time.

“Mommy?” her young, high-pitched voice calls out. “Mommy? Moooommy? Where are you?”

A sob gets caught in your throat as you gasp, tears framing your vision. As if the memory finally gets uncovered in your mind, after being hidden away all these years from your brain deeming it too painful, you realize when this is—or rather, what this is.

“Mommy?” she calls again, her smile faltering as her little brow furrows in confusion, her face scrunching ever so slightly. “Mommy?” She turns her head to the side, looking at something out of view before asking, “Daddy, where’s Mommy?”

Your chest heaves as a sharp cry escapes you, the pain taking a physical form in the tears streaking your cheeks, your face contorting as you weep. In the background, a man’s faint, shaky sobs sound.

The mirror slips from your fingers, landing on the ground with an echoing thud. You whimper, uncontrollably trembling breaths causing your chest to jolt back and forth. You don’t move, can’t move, empty hand still suspended in midair.

You feel numb, yet like you're experiencing every emotion all at once. Your brain can’t wrap around this, around any of this, can’t comprehend your own thoughts. Can’t process what you feel. You’ve shoved your emotion down for so long, that now that they’re no longer bottled up, you don’t know how to deal with them.

“I’m sorry.” The voice cuts through the thick silence, snapping you out of the raging war inside your head.

You glance over at Morgie, still wrapped in chains. His eyes no longer hold the same animosity and misery, but instead a soft sort of sympathy, an underlying look of understanding as he peers up at you, head slightly raised.

“I don’t want your pity,” you sniff indignantly.

“I’m not pitying you.”

You look down at him, your chest heaving, eyes bloodshot. Taking shaky gasps of breath through your mouth, your body quivers as you wait for him to continue.

“I didn’t know about your mom, and you’re totally justified for wanting to know what happened to her,” Morgie continues. “You can take that Mirror and walk out of here if you want.” You keep on staring at him, not saying anything, frozen with anticipation as he carries on. “But are you really going to risk your future for knowledge of the past?”

You gulp before responding, voice hoarse and eyes half-lidded, voice cold and numb. “Would you still hesitate to take that risk, even when it means it could make your future finally be one worth living?”

“Your future is already one worth living,” Morgie replies. “You may not see it, but you’re talented, and smart, and pretty, and you’re a good person. You have a bright future ahead of you.” He shakes his head, eyes still boring into you. “Don’t ruin it like this. Blinded by your pain.”

Sniffling, you inhale a shuddering breath. “And how do you know my pain is blinding me, and not making me see clearer? Clearer than I have in my entire life. Clearer than she did.” You jut your chin towards the mirror lying on the floor.

“I don’t. But what I do know, from seeing my own mother, is that pain like this gets you nowhere. Letting the people who were supposed to love you instead turn you bitter and cynical never fixes things. You may think that becoming evil is the solution, but it’s not. It’s not worth it. You’re not worth it.”

You stare at him intensely, a raw kind of pain displayed on your face, one that no one has ever seen before. A thousand emotions flicker through your eyes, your lips twisting into a whimpering attempt at a smile as you cry again, the sob wracking through your body. “You really think so?”

“I know so.”

Hope flashes in your eyes, reflected in his. Your gaze softens, looking at him as if he’s the beacon of light at the end of the tunnel. A small grin breaks his steady demeanor, looking at you with optimism shining through the glimmer in his eyes.

You reach down, picking up the Mirror again. You stare at it, although not directly at your reflection this time. He peers up at you, still shackled to the floor, eyes wide with anticipation.

You slip the Mirror into the pocket of your cloak once again before turning around, your back to him. Twisting your head to the side so he hears you, you say, “The chains will disappear in an hour.”

Turning your head back, you walk away and leave him behind, black cape flickering in the dark night.

Unclasping the back, you slip off the locket, placing it in front of you. The rusty metal is reflected in the mirror in front of it, along with the tears that splatter on its surface.

It had belonged to your mother, the only thing you had left of her. She had given it to you when you were a little kid, not too long before she left. It was old and weathered, the silver having tarnished over time. Still, you religiously wore it every single day, never taking it off as if it's a part of your body. And sometimes, if you stare at it hard enough, you can almost trick yourself into believing she's still there.

Safely back in your dorm, all alone, you had set the Mirror down, flipping to the notebook page where you had transcribed the incantations for the ritual, without a second thought.

Now, sitting on the ground, the Mirror leaning against a leg of your desk with your locket as an offering in front of it, you start to hesitate. Your face twists in pure agony, features scrunched up, lips quivering uncontrollably as a waterfall of tears splatter onto your hands and lap.

It’s too late to turn back now.

Taking another shaky breath, you extend your hands forward to the Mirror, placing one thumb on each red gemstone embedded in the intricate silver design. The jewels watch you, scorning your every action. Just like everyone else.

Your eyes flutter closed, letting out the steadiest exhale you’ve had all night. “Speculum, speculum, in conspectu oculorum meorum,” you whisper, feeling the way the rubies press into the flesh of your thumbs. Already, the Mirror starts discharging more fog, enveloping you as it grows denser with each syllable. “Accipe donum meum et veritas libera me.”

You open your eyes as the last words leave your tongue, staring straight into the eyes of your own reflection.

The red gems glow radiantly, emitting a bright light that nearly blinds you. You squint, yet still unrelentingly stare into your eyes—or rather, your younger self's eyes. The fog swirls around you, swallowing you whole. You can’t see anything anymore, can’t even tell where you are. You feel as though your soul, your life’s very essence, gets sucked out of your body and into the Mirror.

You have the sensation of being shoved forward, but you don’t fall. In fact, you don't have a body anymore, no physical vessel to hold you. You try to look down, but you're greeted by the absence of your legs, sheer nothingness filling the space beneath you. You can’t really move around either, not in the way you’re used to. All you can do is simply float, your existence diminished to an untethered life force, with some semblance of what you once were.

Looking around, everything around you is white like before, but not in the suffocating way the fog was. Instead, you stand in a wide expanse of whiteness, a vast field of empty space. It stretches on forever, with no end in sight. It’s as if you’re stuck in a blank canvas, waiting for a painter to bring you to life.

The sound of wind whistles all around you, but not so much as a breeze actually comes. In fact, everything is completely unmoving. Despite the stifling stillness, you remain listening to the sound of the wind. If you strain hard enough, you can hear something almost like faint whispers filling your senses.

You look around again, ignoring the eerie voices. According to all the texts you read, after the Mirror accepts the wielder’s offering, they can ask for their answer. You’re not quite sure if this field of emptiness means your offering’s been accepted, but seeing as how you don’t feel insane yet, you think it’s safe to presume so. Still, your brain can’t help but point out that crazy people probably don’t feel like they’re crazy either.

Shaking off your doubts, you decide to continue with the process. After all, it is the only shot you have. You had memorized all the incantations for this particular spell earlier, repeating them over and over again until every word was engraved into your mind.

“Scire volo verum,” you recite. “I wish to know a truth.” Nothing happens.

You take a deep breath. “I wish to know why my mom left.”

The wind around you grows louder, howling even in the still air. The whispers increase in volume, once seemingly non-threatening and benign, now forming a cacophony of overlapping, chaotic voices. They grow distorted and grating, pushing in from every side, wrapping around you and slithering into your brain. You can’t block them out, no matter how hard you try; can’t swat them away, can’t make them leave, leaving you trying to tear them out of your head, despite not having hands anymore.

Suddenly, the white vastness turns a dark gray, and you start getting pulled downward towards something, like moving towards the center of a black hole. The whispers grow claws and fangs, clawing and scratching at your chest as they drag you down, making it hard for you to breathe. 

You try to fight back, but the voices now in your head keep pulling you down. They’ve taken over you, consuming you whole, and it’s impossible not to succumb to their will.

As they continue to drag you down into the abyss, you turn around—or rather, focus on the other side of your vague form of spiritual energy—and notice a tiny black dot very far down, but steadily growing bigger as you move towards it.

The whispers are screaming now, cries of agony of those who came before you, encompassing you whole and forcing you to the depths of this dark chasm.

And that’s when it hits you.

The others who used the Mirror did all end up getting the truths they sought.

And the truth was what drove them to madness.

You panic, trying to shake off the invisible hands of the whisperers, but they only tighten their hold around you. No matter how hard you fight them, they don’t relent in their endeavor of pulling you towards damnation.

“Are you really going to risk your future for knowledge of the past?” Morgie’s words echo in your head out of nowhere, haunting you with regret. You absolutely despise admitting it, but fuck, he was right.

Your last conversation with him replays in your mind, reminding you of your foolishness and idiocy. You had been so focused on getting what you wanted that you were indeed blinded to the truth that had been right in front of you this whole time.

“Your future is one worth living.”

His voice swirls around in your brain, drawing your attention away a little from the screaming voices in your head.

“You’re talented, and smart, and pretty, and you’re a good person.”

You realize these are probably the last words you’ll ever hear.

“You have a bright future ahead of you.”

You feel like crying again, the despair that’s taken root in you fighting to escape. Still, you don’t have an actual body in this dreamscape, so crying is impossible.

“It’s not worth it. You’re not worth it.”

You look back up the other direction and away from the black dot, resigned to your fate as you get dragged down into the chasm, deeper, deeper, deeper. At first, you think you’re imagining it; a mirage created by your mind to distract you from your pain. But as the descent continues, you begin to realize that it may not be an illusion after all.

In front of you, from the direction you came, a faint golden thread, seemingly made of pure light, stretches from your form of consciousness and ascends, up, up, up, all the way to the never-ending sky. With each of Morgie’s words you repeat in your head, the string of light grows stronger, brighter.

“You’re talented.”

The thread becomes thicker and more luminous, and you begin to realize that your descent has slowed down as well.

“And smart.”

The thread grows again, and you slow down a little more.

“And pretty.”

Your eyes follow the string upwards, and now, you see there’s a faint patch of white amidst the murky gray surrounding you.

“You’re a good person.”

The thread, still shooting out straight from your form, gleams with a shimmering golden light now. You notice that you’re no longer getting dragged downwards, but instead up, towards the whiteness. The screaming voices aren’t as insufferably loud anymore, either.

“You have a bright future ahead of you.”

You keep ascending, getting drawn faster and faster up. Morgie’s words serve as your lifeline, saving you from insanity.

“You’re not worth it.”

Now, you see that the white patch is actually an opening, an escape from this hell. The thread leads to it, its blinding brightness concealing whatever lies beyond.

“I know so.”

The last of his words give you the final push you need, sending you straight into the white light.

Your head snaps up with a sharp, terrified exhale. You look down, taking a moment to register that you’re back in your room. The locket dangles from one of your hands, the Mirror clutched in the other.

Fresh tears replacing the dried ones on your cheeks as you let out a sob of excruciating heartache, a sound of pure agony. The kind that no one should have to go through.

You look down at the cracked surface of the Mirror—a feeling of raw, unbridled anger set in the way you clench your jaw, and the way your face contorts with your cries—staring straight at the evil red eyes still gleaming at you.

With a swift motion, you lift your hand above your head, still grasping tight. Mustering together all your might, you hurl the Mirror towards the ground, watching as it shatters into a sea of glittering pieces.

“You’re late.”

You lean against the rough brick wall of an empty corridor, arms crossed, your figure partially obscured in shadows.

“And I’m surprised you’re still here,” Morgie quips, walking towards you. “Why’d you even want to talk with me? Especially through leaving that threatening note next to my nightstand for me to find when I woke up.”

He stops in front of you, leaving you to glower at him. Suddenly, with no warning, you lunge towards him, seizing the collar of his shirt and pushing him against the wall, your other hand summoning a rod of crackling lightning. 

His eyes widen with a startled gaze, but he doesn’t look quite as fearful as you want him to be. “Now, listen here.” You press the tip of the lightning bolt against his neck. “If you say a word of what happened last night to anyone—especially my father—I will kill you.”

Although you try to sound as menacing as possible, Morgie is unfazed. An amused smirk spreads across his face as he replies, “Alright, relax. I wasn’t planning on telling anyone anyways.”

His eyes trail down from your gaze to the locket dangling from your neck. He reaches out a hand, brushing his thumb along the tarnished metal as he softly says, “You didn’t go through with it, huh?”

You pull away, frustrated at his compassionate tone. “No. I decided…it was too risky. After all, what’s the point of figuring out the past if I can’t ever use that information, right?” A small smile spreads across Morgie’s face, that sympathetic, delicate look in his eyes again. Your irritation rising at this, you add, with a growl, “Although I will find a way to get my answer. I don’t care how bad I have to become, if you, or my father, or anyone stands in my way, you’ll truly see how evil I can be!”

Morgie keeps his unfettered appearance up. God, he’s so annoying! you mentally scream in frustration.

“Why are you so fixed on this?” he asks, tilting his head sideways and furrowing his brow as if trying to look past your cold, vengeful, rancorous mask and figure out the scarred little girl buried underneath.

You roll your eyes instead of answering. Never one to express emotions, the thought of opening up now about your years of pain feels terrifyingly vulnerable. It’s so much easier to just build walls around your heart and shut everyone out.

“Tell me this, and I promise I won’t tell a word of what happened last night to anyone,” Morgie bargains.

You narrow your eyes. “You already said you wouldn’t tell anyone.”

“Well, now I’m having second thoughts.”

You raise your arm again to summon another bolt of electricity, and Morgie lifts his hands, palms facing forward, in a gesture of surrender. “Relax, I won’t say anything, fine. But I just want you to talk to me. Bottling up your emotions like this isn’t healthy. Last night should be a good example of that.”

You shoot another glare at him, but can’t deny the fact that he’s right. Still, you hate the idea of how exposed and weak you'd be if you actually told someone how you feel.

“I’m not going to leave you, you know.”

You peer up at him, eyes wide in shock, as he continues. “I’ll stay by your side. You don’t have to worry about me abandoning you.”

Gulping, you nod, averting his gaze. Instead, you choose to look down at your shoes, studying the laces as you speak. “I…when my mom left, it was so sudden. No goodbyes, nothing. It was like one day, she just vanished.”

Your voice cracks, and Morgie places a reassuring hand on your shoulder, unknowingly pulling you closer to him. You swallow, hesitating for a moment before continuing. “My dad didn’t even care. It was as if she never existed. And everyone else…they all knew what happened. But they paid no attention whatsoever. They expected me to act normal, be all nice and sweet as if nothing changed. It made me hate them, hate all of them.”

“Do you hate me?”  

Morgie’s voice rings in the empty corridor, quiet yet speaking louder than a thousand shouts. You look up at him again, his image slightly blurred by the tears welling at the bottom of your eyes. You look up and you see the boy that stood by your side at your worst, who didn’t get scared or run away when you showed him your true colors.

The boy who said things no one’s ever said to you, whose words saved you from destroying yourself.

The boy who stands here, a concerned crinkle on his forehead as he awaits your answer. He doesn’t have to be here, listening to your problems. He doesn’t have to care.

But he does.

“No,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “No, I don’t hate you.”

In the suffocating sea of fake smiles and stifling pressures, Morgie is like a breath of fresh air. The first gulp of oxygen that you take as your head breaks free from the water.

“That’s a relief,” he responds, a trace of a smirk ghosting his features.

You give a small, bittersweet laugh. “Ever since my mom left and my dad stopped caring about me, I’ve never had anyone to talk to. No one seems to care about my emotions, or ask me how I’m doing. It’s as if I’m not a real person who has actual feelings.”

You’re on the verge of tears again, and Morgie must realize this, because he tries to lighten the mood by attempting—and failing—to inconspicuously wrap an arm around your shoulder as he says, “So, what I’m hearing from all this, is that you need a strong, reliable figure in your life to lean on, right? Like…a boyfriend or something?”

You duck under his arm, moving a good few feet away from him while fixing him with another glare. “Yeah no, I’m good.”

“Come on, that was smooth! You’ve got to admit it,” he whines, drawing out a small giggle from you. 

It’s been a long time since you’ve laughed like this: a true, heartfelt laugh, not the fake one that you do to appease other people under the pressure of society's expectations. It feels nice, like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. 

All because of him.

“I don’t know, maybe I'll consider it with some time, if you treat me well,” you joke as you turn your head away with faux indifference. 

“Hey, a slim chance is better than no chance at all, right?” Morgie moves closer to you again, as if he can’t stand having so much space between the two of you. “I can see I’ve made some progress since last night, when you tried to kill me.”

“I wasn’t trying to kill you,” you shoot back, rolling your eyes at him.

“Oh yeah? Tell that to the bruises on my body.”

“It’s not my fault you’re so weak and sensitive,” you retort with a grin.

He nudges you playfully and you laugh again, shaking your head with an amused look. “Hey, I was wondering,” he asks, locking eyes with you, “what did you end up doing with the Mirror?”

You give a knowing grin, masking the undercurrent of what’s left unsaid. You vaguely respond, “It’s in a better place now.”

“If you say so,” Morgie replies, his smile returning to his face and lighting up his features once again. He continues to tease you, and you oblige him, keeping up the friendly banter as he walks you to class.

The Enchanted Lake glistens, reflecting the sun’s gentle rays with a bright shimmer. Deep down, under feet of clear blue water and various forms of aquatic life, in a far corner of the lake, lies a bag of glass shards. Next to it floats an ornate metal carving with a hollow center, reminiscent of something once set there. And at the top, two glowing red gemstones briefly flicker and die out, like watchful eyes finally closing.

end x

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a/n: how did this get so long...if you're still here, and if you actually read that entire thing, thank you so so soo much! I'm sending you a virtual cookie and a hug (if you're comfortable with it ofc) because you're absolutely awesome! <3 hope you enjoyed reading!

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[waywardqueen411]

A New Legacy - Hogwarts Legacy x Harry Potter Crossover - Part 2

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

Summary:

After a rather brutal encounter with Ranrok's loyalists, the Hero of Hogwarts finds herself falling through time and space entering a world that's almost home, but not quite. Of course there's nothing else to do aside from adapt, improvise and overcome.

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A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who liked and reblogged the first part! I hope yall enjoy this one

Warnings: Violence, Major character death, Angst, spoilers for Hogwarts Legacy

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x Female!Reader, Ominis Gaunt x Female!Reader (more to be added on as the story progresses)

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You awoke with a gasp, your head immediately pounding.

You were on the ground in the middle of a forest, the soil sticking to your face and clothes. For a moment, you didn't know where you were or what had happened before reality came crashing down onto you.

Sebastian was dead.

You let out an unearthly scream. Your heart pounded in your chest as the words replayed in your head.

Dead. Dead. Dead.

You had watched Sebastian's body disintegrate before you. You would never see him again. Never hear his stupid arrogant laughter, never look into his beautiful brown eyes, never go on another adventure, never hold his hands.

Oh, God. Sebastian was dead.

You allowed yourself exactly five minutes to completely fall apart. You cried and screamed and threw rocks. Your magic exploded out of you, both accidental and not. You wanted to make that goblin suffer. His death was a mercy.

You exploded trees and sent boulders flying. You cried and screamed until there was nothing left inside of you. And then you dropped to your knees and stared at this distance.

Where were you?

It took you a few tries before you could stand up once more.

You knew you had to go on. To stop the new goblin uprising. If for no other reason than to avenge Sebastian. You looked around the area. It felt familiar, but in a strange sense. The fauna and flora reminded you of the Forbidden Forest, but that couldn't be right, could it? Dawn had just broke and everything looked so different. The trees seemed larger and animals newer. Like they'd skipped a generation.

You reached around for your wand before you remembered how it dissolved before you. Suddenly, a though occurred to you.

"Ominis," you said. "Ominis!" you called out.

"What's going on out here?" A voice said from behind you. You spun around then fell flatly on your bottom when you saw a half-giant approach you. "What's all this screaming about?"

"Please don't hurt me," you begged after a moment. The half-giant's eyes softened.

"No one is going to hurt you," he said softly. You almost laughed. The man had a crossbow slung over his shoulder and a giant hound at his side.

"Swear it," you demanded. The half giant walked up to you and, to your shock, kneeled in front of you, holding out a pinky finger.

"On me dad's grave," he said. You looked him over one last time before dropping your shoulders and tugging on his pinky with your own. "Now, why don't we start with names? I'm Hagrid, pleasure to meet you."

"I'm-" you started, but no words came to mind. "I'm-" your brows met in confusion. "I don't know," you said plainly. The half giant - Hagrid - looked sympathetically at you. "But I'm not alone," you said quickly. "I came here with a friend-"

"Pale, blonde, tall?" Hagrid asked and you nodded quickly. Then your stomach dropped.

"He's not dead, is he?" you asked carefully. You couldn't bare the thought of losing both Ominis and Sebastian in one day.

You swallowed at the thought of Sebastian, but pushed your feelings down. You needed to get somewhere safe, fast.

"No, no!" Hagrid said quickly. "He's fine. I found him a few hours ago, out cold but very much alive." Your shoulders fell in relief.

"Thank Merlin," you said softly. "Can I go see him?" you asked. Hagrid smiled.

"I reckon that's the first place we aught to take you. Madame Pomfrey will want to take a good look, make sure everything's alright. She's the best nurse Hogwarts ever seen." Hagrid said.

You stood slowly, brows meeting in confusion. "Right," you said. Something inside of you told you that you shouldn't be giving too much away. "Um, Hagrid, where are we?"

Hagrid laughed a little, "You're just outside the castle grounds," he said, then turned around. "If you're alright to walk, you might want to get going."

You followed the half giant through the woods - the Forbidden Forest as it was - struggling to keep up with his large steps. Soon you found yourself entering the familiar halls of Hogwarts.

Only it wasn't so familiar.

"What happened?" you asked Hagrid as the two of you walked through the bridge to enter. Hagrid looked confused. You quickly decided not to say any more, waiting until you saw Ominis.

"I'm not sure I understand- ah," Hagrid suddenly stopped, as a bearded old man approached you. "Professor Dumbledore will be able to answer your questions."

Dumbledore?

"Another one so soon, Hagrid?" The old man said, his blue eyes sparkling with curiosity. You took a step back. Something about this man screamed trouble.

"Yes, sir, Professor Dumbledore, sir," Hagrid said. You saw the way the half-giant shrunk at the sight of the man - Dumbledore. He clearly held a lot of power and influence.

"I take it you two are on your way to the hospital wing," Dumbledore said and Hagrid nodded. "I believe I can take it from here, Hagrid,"

Hagrid agreed and you wished he hadn't. You swallowed slightly as you looked up at the professor. You glanced back to Hagrid before squaring your shoulders and walking with the unfamiliar man through the almost familiar halls of not-your-Hogwarts.

The hospital wing was in the same place, at the very least.

"Don't tell me you've found another one," A motherly looking lady said as she hurriedly approached the two of you, a lady who was decidedly not Matron Blainey. "Keep this up and I won't have enough beds for the actual students. Poppy Pomfrey, at your service,"

"Can I see Ominis, Madame Pomfrey?" you asked immediately, spotting a bed with drawn curtains nearby.

"Ominis, ay?" Pomfrey asked and you internally scolded yourself. You should not be giving away any excessive information. "I'm afraid your friend is, um, still unconscious," Madame Pomfrey looked uncomfortable.

"What's wrong? What happened to him?" You blurted out, taking a step towards the bed before Dumbledore's hand on your shoulder stopped you.

Madame Pomfrey looked distraught. "Your friend has suffered a grave injury. I worry his vision may never be healed," the matron said. You held back a chuckle. Dumbledore and Pomfrey both shot you looks of horror, "Why young lady! This is no laughing matter-"

"Please excuse my friend, Matron," came Ominis' deep voice. You nearly leaped for joy. Ominis sat upright on the hospital bed, pushing back the curtains to reveal his bruised and battered body, covered by torn up robes. "It's just that, you see, I was like this when I arrived,"

Ominis allowed a small smile to play on his face and in the short silence that followed, you quickly crossed the room and wrapped him in the most desperate hug.

"You're alive?" you said in the most desperate voice, a tear leaking out of your eye, "You're alright?" you asked, cradling his face in your hands and turning it from side to side. You had to make sure that it was him, that he was really okay.

"Settle down child," the matron said in a warm, soft voice. "I need to have you checked out as well."

"Could you give us a moment?" Ominis asked kindly, looking in the direction of Madame Pomfrey. Under normal circumstances, you would have hated the look of pity that fell over her face, but this time you didn't care. As long as it got you a moment alone with Ominis. "Just a few minutes?"

"Of course," Madame Pomfrey said solemnly, "Headmaster, may I have a word with you outside?" She asked pointedly and Dumbledore hesitated for a moment.

"Certainly, Poppy," he said, looking between the two of you.

The moment they were gone you turned back to Ominis and said: "We need to get out of here,"

"I know," he said after a beat, "I'm just not exactly sure where here is,"

"We're at Hogwarts," you said slowly, "Just not our Hogwarts."

Ominis sighed before taking your hand, "I think we've traveled through time," he said.

You were stunned into silence for a moment before you burst out laughing, "No seriously Omi, stop messing around," you said. Ominis didn't laugh. If anything, his face grew more grave. You smile fell. "You are being serious, aren't you?"

"Unfortunately yes," he said in a soft voice. Your mind began racing. Ominis, undoubtedly hearing your breath quicken and feeling your pulse go up, took both of yours hands in his own.

"We can't afford to freak out right now. We need to get somewhere safe," he said and you gasped.

"Safe? Where can we go if Hogwarts isn't safe?" you asked. Ominis squeezed your hands tighter, and you tried to follow his breathing.

"There are a few Gaunt properties I can access, bound to my blood. Assuming not all of them are occupied with Gaunt decedents, we can regroup there," he said, as if this was the most normal thing in the world.

"Okay, okay," you said after a beat. "That I can do."

"We just need to get out of here," you said. "The headmaster - Dumbledore, I don't trust him."

"Alright," Ominis said. "We can't let anyone know the truth. At least not yet."

"Okay," you said softly. "Are you hurt?" you asked.

"No, you?"

"I think I'm alright,"

"Then there's no time to waste," he said.

A moment later, the two of you heard footsteps approach. This time, a third person was with Dumbledore and Matron Pomfrey.

"This cannot be a coincidence, Headmaster," the person said, sounding urgent, "First the Dark Mark was cast over the World Cup - Bertha Jorkins is still missing-"

"That's enough Severus," Dumbledore said, reaching the room and walking in. You pretended like you hadn't just heard their conversation. Dark Mark? Missing people?

You looked at the man who just entered curiously. He was tall, older, with greasy black hair. He looked positively miserable.

"Now that the two of you have gotten a chance to catch up, may I have a word?" Ominis squeezed your hand and you glanced to him. You remembered the way your wands had disappeared into sand.

"I go where he goes," you said after a beat, gesturing with your head to Ominis.

Dumbledore sighed. "Very well then,"

The other man - Severus, took a seat near the front of the hospital and Dumbledore approached you quickly. Madame Pomfrey looked furious, but said nothing as she made notes with a quill in the corner.

The headmaster cleared his throat before speaking. "Let's start with something simple, shall we?"

You both verbalized your agreement.

"Ominis, we know your name, but your friend has yet to divulge that information about herself,"

"I don't remember," you said honestly. You didn't dare look at Ominis.

"That is rather unfortunate," he said. You held back a scowl. "What is the last thing you remember?"

Dumbledore stared at you with piercing blue eyes and immediately your Occlumency shields went up. It was something you and Sebastian had worked on together.

"I- um,"

"We were planting Dittany in the garden," Ominis quickly supplied, sensing your hesitation, "I think we stumbled across a particularly angry Gnome. Suddenly we were in the Forbidden Forest, and now we're here."

"An angry gnome?" the man named Severus asked with annoyance in his voice.

"That's what he said," you backed Ominis up, holding back your laughter.

"How peculiar," Dumbledore commented, but pressed no further. "How old are you?"

"Fifteen," Ominis said quickly.

"If you possess magical capabilities, why are you not at Hogwarts?" Severus asked. You groaned internally.

"We're homeschooled," You responded.

"For the last five years?" Severus asked.

"Four actually," Ominis retorted.

"What family do the two of you belong to?" Dumbledore asked. Ominis puffed out his chest a little.

"The House of Gaunt," you knew he wasn't proud, he just wanted Dumbledore to think so.

Dumbledore's expression shifted for only a moment before it was hidden again behind a friendly mask.

"Seems a little odd that a child from such an esteemed house would be planting their own Dittany," he said.

"Please," Ominis said, "I'm lucky they didn't drown me when I came out blind,"

Both you and Severus winced at that. Ominis and Dumbledore seemed not to notice.

"And you, miss? Do you recall which family you belong to?" he asked tentatively.

"I live with Ominis," you said.

"Where exactly would that be?" Dumbledore asked.

"Kent," Ominis answered.

A small silence followed.

"Well, if that is all, we'd like to head back home now," Ominis said dismissively, standing and wobbling a bit before readying himself. You followed suit.

"But I still need to-" Matron Pomfrey said, approaching the two of you.

"I can assure you we have perfectly good healers at home, Madame Pomfrey," you said quickly, wanting to get out of here as soon as possible. "Thank you,"

"If you must," Dumbledore said. You and Ominis both stood and you offered him your arm when you realized that without his wand, he was truly helpless. Dumbledore spoke again when the two of you reached the doorway. "The option for schooling here is always available, should either of you desire." He said.

"We'll keep it in mind," you huffed out, before the two of you promptly left. It was lucky that the Hospital wing was so close to the exit of the castle.

When you both reached the grounds you sighed heavily. "Now what?" you asked.

"Hogsmead," Ominis said. "The shop should still legally be in your name. Assuming the old bat hasn't fudged some papers, and tried to sell it to another poor unfortunate soul," You nodded and the two of you began your journey there.

The walk to Hogsmead was difficult. In the silence it felt too easy to think about Sebastian's death, to feel his absences.

"Do you think he managed to survive?" you asked when the two of you were about 3/4s the way to the shop.

"No," Ominis said decidedly.

"But-"

"Please don't," he begged. You sealed away any protests that were building on your tongue.

"I'm sorry," you said after a beat, "None of this would have happened if I had just-"

"If you had just what, exactly?" Ominis asked, "Imperio'ed us into leaving?" you winced at that. "Sebastian and I were there because he and I would never have let you go at it alone. He died because he was a good person. Don't take that away from him,"

You swallowed, blinking back tears. "I'm sorry I didn't save him," you said softly.

"And I'm sorry that he died thinking I hated him," Ominis said, scoffing a little bit, "I was going to tell him, you know? That's why we agreed to meet. I was going to tell him that it was alright and that I wanted to fix things."

You allowed a single tear to escape. "I guess we just have to live with it," you said softly.

The rest of the walk was spent in silence. When the two of you approached the shop, it seemed to open to your touch. You were shocked to see a house elf waiting there for you.

"Penny?" you asked.

"Mistress has returned!" Penny screamed and rejoiced. "Penny has been waiting for you."

"What the-" your eyes widened in shock. Ominis laughed, just a little.

"House elves natural lifespans are connected to the master - or mistress - with whom they are closest to," he explained easily. "She'll live approximately as long as you do. Give or take a few years."

"Penny I am so sorry," you said, kneeling down in front of her.

"Mistress must not be sorry," Penny said immediately. "Penny has had a good life. Penny has gone to many places and seen many things in her Mistress' absence,"

"If you say so," you mumbled, realizing that Penny probably had a lot of free time these last 150 years.

"We need to get going," Ominis reminded, "People are going to become curious as to why the shop is suddenly open,"

"Alright," you said, looking back at Penny with a smile. "Do our Floo Flames still work, Penny?"

"Oh yes, Mistress." she said excitedly, happy to be given something to do, "The Floo will take you anywhere you need to be."

"Thank you, Penny," you said sincerely. Ominis nudged you forward and the two of you stepped into the Floo Flames.

[cherryslyce]

Second Son (VIII) | Regulus Black

Series Synopsis: Forbidden from contacting Harry over the summer, you opt to explore the eerie halls of Grimmauld Place where you stumble upon a lonely portrait of the House's second son.

— Chapter Synopsis: The beginning of sixth year proves to be quite eventful. Y/N manages a new nickname and solution for the Black brothers.

Part VII / Part IX / Series Masterlist

Pairing: Regulus Black x GN!Reader

Notes: HPB begins! I always find myself accidentally using gendering terms like miss/mistress/master so I have to be extra conscious about it when I'm editing.

Your sixth year at Hogwarts kicked off with a suspiciously smooth start. Rather, it was quite an unexpected beginning to the year with Professor Slughorn taking over Professor Snape’s post as the Potions teacher. It felt strange to no longer feel tense going into the Potions classroom, but you would be lying through your teeth by saying that the quality of instruction improved. Regretfully, it felt like the opposite.

Professor Slughorn had a penchant for talking in roundabout ways and digressing to the point of incomprehensibility–at least Snape was clear and short with his words (though you suspected that the tightness of his robe collars limited the amount of words he could speak everyday). 

The shock of such changes barely had time to wean away before you were mind-boggled by another, rather larger, surprise. Harry, whose performance had always been teetering the edge between passable and dreadful in Potions, was suddenly topping the grades in your year for the class. 

Improving was a great development (perhaps even expected, now that Snape was gone), but improving fast enough to overtake Hermione in the class was outright suspicious. You weren’t going to prod Harry, having already witnessed Hermione’s scathing looks towards the boy’s cauldron and Ron’s clueless pleas for help. 

Besides, you would be a hypocrite to scrutinize the boy, having your own secrets that you held onto tightly. If it wasn’t corrupting your friend or interfering with his well being, you’d leave the issue be (even if you did suspect academic dishonesty). 

However, your sentiment towards the subject seemed irrelevant at the moment as you grew increasingly irritated with the concoction in front of you. 

‘Reg, how in Merlin’s name is Harry doing this? I swear that this thing in front of me resembles more of a sludge than a potion.’ 

‘Patience, little bird. Are you certain you followed the instructions exactly?’ 

‘If this is a jab about me being illiterate, I will obliterate you.’ Your thoughts had somehow managed to convey your frustration, coming out a bit snarky. 

‘I’d bet my left arm on the likelihood of that never happening, but no, it wasn’t a tease. You will be fine, Slughorn is a lenient grader.’ 

Your shoulders sag in exhaustion at Regulus’ words, the aching between your shoulder blades intensifying with the action. Deciding to abandon the failed mixture, you slowly inch towards Harry, making a show of looking at his potion. 

“I have to hand it to you, Harry. At this rate, you are definitely getting an O on your Potions N.E.W.T next year.” Your words are met with a wide grin, and his eyes briefly dart to his textbook, hand moving to shift it from your line of sight.

The subtlety of an ogre, this one. 

Continuing to stir his potion, he hums appreciatively, “Thanks, but it’s really nothing. I’m just relieved that Professor Snape is teaching a different subject this year. I was worried that I wouldn’t be able to take Potions at the N.E.W.T level.” 

“Ah, right, this class is a prerequisite for the Auror training program. Well, if only Professor Snape could see you now, he’d drop from shock, I’m sure.” You smile lightly at the thought, eyes gazing around Harry’s workbench. 

An explosion sounds from behind the two of you, no doubt originating from Seamus’ table, but you both pay no mind to it. Slughorn rushes past you, no doubt making sure that Seamus hasn’t blown himself up, and it’s enough to have you trudging back to your boiling mixture. 

No use in blowing up your own cauldron and having Slughorn fuss around. 

In the time that you spent away from it, your potion managed to thin out a bit more and morph into a color that better resembled the correct shade. Honestly, you were just comparing yours to Harry’s and hoping for the best. 

Watching the mixture swirl for a bit longer, you decide to occupy yourself by reaching out into the mind link. 

‘Reggie.’

‘Hm?’

‘My potion is almost done and I’m bored.’ 

‘Oh? Are N.E.W.T-level classes not challenging enough for you, little bird?’ 

‘Merlin knows I’m suffering, I’m just adept at hiding my crippling anxiety over it all. Not all of us can be as impressive as you, Crowface.’ Your last remark is tinged with playfulness, and you duck your head down to hide the growing smile on your face. You’d have no chance of being invited to the famed Slug Club if Slughorn took you for a lunatic. 

Regulus’ confusion rings through the mind link, and it takes him a few delayed pauses before his voice chimes out again, ‘Crowface? My nickname for you is actually pleasant, and this is what I get in return? It’s hardly fair.’ 

‘Think of it as less of an insult and more as a term of endearment. Crows are intelligent birds, and you’re pretty much the smartest person I know.’ 

If you could see the look on his face at the moment, you have no doubt it’d be a look of bewilderment, eyebrows drawn together and lips parted ever so slightly in a frown. 

‘My very first nickname, and it makes me sound like a plague doctor.’ Regulus’ words come out mumbled, getting across his feelings of dismay without giving you the satisfaction of hearing  him sulk. 

Choosing to ignore the faint grumbling coming from him, you pour your potion into a vial, fairly satisfied that it almost mirrored Harry’s. It was passable enough in Slughorn’s eyes, and you can only imagine Snape’s offended sneer in your head at the mess that’s befallen the Potions curriculum. 

After Slughorn praises Harry for his potion, leaving everyone to watch on in a mix of confusion and awe, you’re all swiftly dismissed. You could cry from relief as you leave the classroom, the fresh air cooling your lungs and relieving your migraine. Seriously, if you didn’t die from a potions accident by the end of the year, you’d surely suffocate to death from all the smoke in the class. 

Stretching your arms over your head, you sense your friends catching up to you, a giddy Harry practically skipping beside you. Peeking over to him, your eyes can’t help but dart down to the book tucked against his side, bouncing on his hip with every step. 

“Bloody hell, mate. Do you think I should owl Charlie for help?” Ron’s face is twisted in a grimace as he stares off into the distance in worry, no doubt imagining a back-up career plan. 

Quirking an eyebrow, you turn to him with crossed arms, “Charlie? Why not Percy? Didn’t he get O’s on all of his N.E.W.T’s?” 

You were quite impressed with your friends and the number of N.E.W.T-level subjects they were qualified to take, but nothing compared to the nightmare that was Percy Weasley as you remember Ron telling you that he took 12 N.E.W.T classes during his time at Hogwarts. The absolute headache he probably had for two years straight was shudder-inducing.

Ron shakes his head in dejection, gripping the strap of his bag, “No chance. He still hasn’t made up with Mum and the lot, and he’s too busy with his fancy new job.” 

“Still? Helga, it’s been over a year now hasn’t it?” Your exclamation is met with a grim nod from the ginger, while Hermione hums at the news, seemingly unsurprised by the family’s continued rift. 

“He sent you that letter last year though, didn’t he?” Harry’s words are meant to be comforting, but comes out with a bitter sniffle, the  joy from his successful potion seeming to dampen. 

“Oh? The letter where he told Ron that he should cut ties with you because you’re bad news and I’m the wrong sort and all that?” Your playful tone has Harry groaning, clearly realizing just how sore he still was over the older boy’s words. Honestly, you could care less about Percy's opinions, not feeling the need to impress someone who was chumming up to Fudge and his circle.

Shooting Harry a quick amused smile, you wave quickly to the trio as you all part ways: Hermione heading to Charms, Ron to Transfiguration, and Harry to Defense.

‘Off to Runes now, little bird?’ 

Patting your pocket, your chest grows warm and you don’t attempt to suppress the smile that flowers over your face as you hear Regulus’ voice. 

‘Sure am. Afterwards, I’m heading to the library to try and read up more about soul hexes. Kreacher did a great job in picking out a selection.’ Over the summer, you were able to get through nine hefty books, and it only took countless all-nighters and daily pleads to Merlin to end your suffering. 

You brought the last few books you had left to read with you to Hogwarts, and you were absolutely resolute on spending any available second you had on researching. None of the books you got through so far had any hexes that caused familiar symptoms, though you did end up finding some rather horrifying mutilation spells and diagrams of which body parts were useful for sacrifices. 

Fascinating information, really. You now knew you could use a severed foot to cast blood curses. 

Despite how morbidly engrossing your research turned out to be, you were itching to quickly figure out a solution. There was no doubt that prolonging Sirius’ curse would only bring severe consequences, and the Order needed him–Harry needed him, especially with Voldemort’s forces creeping in. 

As if Mother Magic was smiling down on you, your work came to fruition not even a week later. More precisely, it was exactly 3 days later when the answer slapped you in the face with a turn of a page.  

It was nearing curfew and you were sitting in an abandoned corner of the library, your stack of books glamoured to look like Runes textbooks. You had left Regulus back in your dorm, and you were definitely feeling his absence as your reading droned on. As you were progressing through a particularly worn book, one of the curses had you jolting up in your seat. 

Anima Involutus 

A soul curse which allows the caster to chain down the soul and magic of their victims through transmutation of hatred and anger. This curse may only be casted by a caster with a depraved soul or by a high-tier dark mage. The effects of the curse on the caster range from madness, seizures, paranoia, and death. 

Victims of the curse experience violent constrictions of muscles, effectively stopping the heart temporarily while their soul begins to become entangled by the chains of the caster’s malice. The victim will enter into a comatose state until the caster’s hatred grows strong enough to snuff out the chained soul, effectively rendering the victim into a shell of who they used to be. 

Protections: It is recommended that high-tier dark mages put in place charms of protection to mitigate potential side effects–

You highly doubted that Bellatrix was a high-tier dark mage, much less that she actually had the sense to put in place protections for herself. The witch was mad, so she probably couldn’t even feel the effects of the curse. 

Running your finger further down the page, your attention is grabbed by an elaborate explanation on how to reverse the curse. 

In order to lift the curse, the caster must intentionally retract the chains– yeah, that’s unlikely– or a ritual must be performed. 

The ritual must be performed in the presence of a wizard or witch of greater magical power than the caster. The ritual circle may be composed of any healing and reversal runes, however, complex runes will be higher in effectivity. 

Deciding to cut your reading short, you shoot up from your chair, sloppily beginning to shove your belongings into your bag. You needed to get this information to Dumbledore as soon as possible, anxiety filling your nerves at the thought of Sirius’ soul being snuffed out. 

Practically bolting out of the library, you nearly miss the blank look being shot at you by Draco, his frame towering over a nearby table. Harry had confided in you about his worries over the Malfoy heir, growing suspicious that the platinum blonde was now sporting the death eater insignia. 

But why was he watching you of all people? You just hoped he wasn’t actually a junior death eater, he was still a minor after all.

You didn’t want to dwell on it, feeling pity bloom in the pit of your stomach. Draco had constantly sent jibes at your friend group over the years, but he was a product of his upbringing and you had a feeling he was capable of change. In a way, you saw Regulus in him.  

Slowing down in your tracks, you look over your shoulder at the boy, sending him a hesitant nod, and what you hoped was a reassuring smile. He looks surprised by your cordiality, but the expression disappears just as quickly as it appeared, and he turns on his heel sharply. 

Sighing and trying to move on from the strange interaction, you continue to make your way to Dumbledore’s office, speeding around the people milling around the corridors. 

As you quickly pace up the stairs to Dumbledore’s office, you reach out to your mind link with Regulus, ‘Crowface, I figured it out. It’s some soul curse that binds the victim’s soul.’

You feel Regulus’ magic briefly entangle around yours as he reaches into the mind link almost immediately, ‘Will he be okay?’ 

‘I think so, I’m heading to Dumbledore right now so he can perform the ritual to reverse it.’ 

‘Thank you, little bird. I’m glad…’ 

You wait for him to finish his words, but he falls into silence, so you decide not to push him, letting him figure out his own thoughts. Redirecting your focus to the objective, you catch your breath as you reach the gargoyle guarding Dumbledore’s office. 

“Pepper Imps.” 

You didn’t question the strange password, just grateful that Dumbledore was keeping you updated with his passwords in case you made a breakthrough. Though, for future reference, his pattern of having sweets as a password would help you immensely if you ever wanted to break into his office. 

The gargoyle turns 90 degrees to the side and the adjacent wall rumbles before partially retracting to reveal another staircase. Quickly springing up the stairs, you’re soon met with the sight of a pacing Dumbledore, an exhausted Remus sitting just ways off from the restless headmaster. 

“Headmaster, Professor Lupin!” Both men snap their heads in your direction at your intrusion, quickly straightening up. 

“Y/N, I’m hardly your professor anymore, just call me Remus.” You smile softly at the tired man, appreciating his uncanny ability to make any situation comfortable.

“No can do, sir. But, I come bearing good news. After many hours of research, I managed to figure out the curse that Sirius was afflicted with. It’s reversible, but you need to perform the ritual, headmaster, or at least, you need to witness it.” As you quickly explain the situation to them, you dig around in your bag for the book, quickly flipping through the pages and practically shoving the information into their faces. 

When both men are finished reading, they share an approving glance before facing your anticipating figure. 

“Well done. We will need to get started right away. Remus, why don’t you take Y/N with you and have the floor secured. I will deliver the news to Harry and join you right away.” Dumbledore barely gets his words out before his body is moving towards the exit. 

Startled at the news, you step towards the fleeing Headmaster, “Wait, sir. What do you mean? I don’t believe I’ll be of much help.” 

Dumbledore twirls around and flashes a congenial smile, his eyes twinkling like they always did when he seemed to be reveling in a particular good thought, “On the contrary, you are the key to the success of this ritual. Now, no need to worry about curfew, I will personally escort you to your dorms later.”

Without another word, Dumbledore is practically flying down the stairs, leaving you to bask in confusion with Remus. Looking at the man, you find that he is already looking at you with a proud glint in his eyes. 

“He’ll be okay.” Your words are more to reassure yourself than anything, but Remus seems to agree, putting a firm hand on your shoulder and squeezing softly. 

“Yes, nothing has ever stopped Sirius, he’s always been stubborn like that.” 

The older man’s words have you grinning briefly, before you’re occupied by thoughts of what’s to come.

The events that unfold in the following hour are hard to recall, your brain defaulting to autopilot, the world seemingly pushed back in a glassy blur. You do remember making your way out of the floo network, joined by a hopeful Dumbledore only minutes later. 

As the two men crowd around the book to read through the ritual in detail, you are instructed to begin drawing up the rune circle as a few healers prepare Sirius for the process. At first, you’re unsure about why you were given such an important task, but Remus’ reply shuts you up immediately, “Professor Babbling sings your praises, I don’t doubt you will finish with the highest Runes marks in Hogwarts history.”

The flattery was exaggerated, but it doesn’t stop you from wanting to preen a little, even accidentally sending a pleased pulse of magic into your mental link with Regulus. Luckily, the boy knows better than to try and reach out to you amidst your concentration. 

As you finish off the last few runes, you sit back on your heels to admire your work. The intricate markings were splayed in a neat, wide circle in the middle of the room, the lines of each rune character seeming to swim and dance in your vision. Magic was amazing–either that or you were getting sleepy. 

Remus and Dumbledore step onto opposite sides of the circle, a healer levitating a pale, clammy Sirius into the middle. Looking up at the men for guidance, Dumbledore gestures for you to stand in between them, near Sirius’ head. 

“Okay, Y/N, we just need your help with the rudimentary aspects. The incantation is liberabo animam, the movement is a small ‘S’ shape.” Remus’ words come out soft, and he doesn’t look at you all the while, his eyes locked on his unconscious friend. 

Nodding quickly, you pull out your wand and steady yourself, practicing the movement once before signaling that you were ready. Confidently casting the spell, you have little time to ponder if you were successful before you’re overwhelmed by Remus’ magic. 

His magic was unlike yours and Regulus’--where you were cold, Regulus warm– Remus’ magic was like a blooming petrichor in the lungs. The blanket of magic surrounding your body shed away as Remus continued to perform the ritual, a sudden chill entangling itself with the magic you felt before. 

It felt like your magic. 

But it wasn’t. 

Where yours was like an ocean breeze, this magic was like the first touch of winter. 

This second coat of magic…was this Sirius’ magic? 

With wide eyes, you watch as the rune circle beats rhythmically and glows. Sirius’ muscles begin to twitch sporadically and you dart your gaze to Dumbledore worriedly, but he seems nonchalant so you bite down your concern. 

The man was taking his role of being a witness too literally–seriously, he looked like he could go for a butterbeer. 

Moments pass and everything is ripped away at once–the magic, the glow, Remus’ voice–it goes completely silent. Your heart skips in anxiousness as you watch Sirius’ unmoving body in anticipation. 

Suddenly, a groan resonates around the room. 

“Urgh…wha’ hap’en’m” Sirius’ voice comes out scratchy, and he’s slurring his words to an almost incomprehensible degree, but you laugh in relief at the noise. 

Suddenly feeling weak in the knees, you drop down and make eye contact with Sirius, who’s managed to tear his eyes open and was currently gazing up at you tiredly. Clearly his throat furiously, a low silence ensues before he grins, seeming to collect himself. 

“Hey, kid. You look like shit.” 

Rolling your eyes at the man, you barely have the energy to reply, “The pot calling the kettle black.” 

Sirius chuckles at your words before quipping back, “Last I checked, I’m Lord Black, so the pot calling the Black a kettle.” 

Glad to see he was still the same. 

“Remus, did the book say anything about possible brain damage?” Your words send Sirius into a fit of laughter and you’re worried for a second that he’s going to cough up a lung. 

Remus shoots you an amused look before he’s hauling his friend up in a tight hug. Smiling at the scene, you only tear your gaze away when you feel a hand fall onto your shoulder. Looking up, you see Dumbledore smiling at you, gesturing to the exit with a tilt of his head. 

Time to head back then. 

Standing up on shaky legs, you pocket your wand and say your goodbyes to the men, promising to come visit with Harry sometime soon. As soon as you’re out of the room, you excitedly tap into your mind link with Regulus. 

‘It worked, Reg. He’s okay.’ 

‘That’s fantastic…I’m glad. How are you holding up? Are you okay?’ Ever the worrywart.

‘I’ll be fine, just a bit tired. Don’t worry about me, Crowface.’

‘Hard not to, you always seem to find yourself in the face of danger.’ You swear you could hear a sigh coming from him, and you fight off the grin threatening to appear on your face. 

‘Just the perks of being friends with the Boy Who Lived’ Smiling lightly, you hear Reggie huff at the reminder, still caught up on the fact that you were probably sitting snuggly at Number Two of Voldemort’s hit list. 

“I presume something good happened?” Dumbledore’s voice has you pulling away from the link, staring at the man who regarded you happily. His eyes seemed to cut through you like a laser and your skin prickled at the intensity of them, carefully tearing your gaze away. 

You just hoped he wouldn’t push you to divulge about your Crow over tea and biscuits. 

Nodding at the question, you quickly turn to face the floo network, stepping inside as you answer, “I guess you could say that. See you in a moment, sir.” 

You grin widely and throw down the powder, enunciating your words carefully so as to not land somewhere unsavory (Harry’s cautionary tale of ending up diagonally instead of in Diagon Alley never quite leaving your head). 

As you feel yourself being tugged away, you hear Dumbledore laugh good heartedly, and the sound echoes around you as you are hauled back to Hogwarts. 

Merlin, you were going to sleep like a log tonight. 

tag list: @krazyk99 @venomsvl @valsarchives @bunny24sstuff @novella12nite @elia-the-bibliophile @txoru @surelysherly @xlifexdeathx @trikigirl271 @urgurlfave @the-marauders-world @sleepydang @blueberry-thrawn @lestat-whore @chanaaaannel @clockworkherondale @peachyaeger

[beautifulbuckys]

Can’t Stay Away (George Weasley x Reader) [6/6]

SERIES MASTERLIST

Summary: Christmas Day was the day of gifts and family time, and apparently accidentally cuddling with the person you’re supposed to hate?

Warnings: Some swearing, teasing, confrontational attitudes??

A/N: Well folks, this is the end. I’ve never written a complete series before, so this is a first! Hopefully, this fits all my lovely readers ideas of the ending :) Thank you guys for sticking with this stories, and remember requests are always open!

“Baby, it’s cold outside,”

“Baby? Don’t baby me, Arthur. You must return that chemistry set back to the store!” The familiar voice of Molly Weasley rung through the living area. Wait, why am I in the living area?  Her tone was cutthroat, much too aggressive for the morning. Was it morning? A grey light shone through the window. It seemed to be morning. Christ, my neck hurts.

A beat. 

“Molly look,” 

More silence. 

I sluggishly open my eyes to find Arthur and Molly standing in front of me. I notice a wide smile on Molly’s face. I’m still on the living room couch, where I was last night. I must’ve fallen asleep. Ginny was no longer asleep in my lap, her presence absent completely. Instead, I'm tucked into George Weasley’s chest. He’s still snoring loudly, mouth slightly agape. I fell asleep with George Weasley. I kissed George Weasley. Oh shit. 

Molly must have noticed I was awake, as she approached me slowly. “Good morning dear. How’d you sleep?”

This is embarrassing.

I smiled, trying to bury the embarrassment. “Very well actually; I didn’t realize I was so tired. I don’t even remember falling asleep here, honestly. I guess I was just so excited for Father Christmas. You know me, just so childlike at heart!” I spoke through gritted teeth. George continued to snore softly, remaining still on his place on the couch.

“I don’t think that to be true,” Harry spoke, scaring all three of us. He must’ve snuck down the stairs. “I saw you and George snogging last night!” Molly looked at me curiously, as Arthur stood in shock. How did Harry know? Was Ginny actually awake and witnessed the entire account? I don’t want to be in deep shit with the Weasley’s.

“Harry,” I warned. He smiled, turning on his heels to the kitchen.

“I suppose the giving spirit was in the air last night!” Arthur spoke, kneeling by the fireplace. It was a cold morning, as most winter mornings were out here. Although it wasn’t snowing, you wouldn’t mistake today as a fall day. 

Molly smiled, “I’m so glad to see you’ve given George a chance. Merlin knows how long he’s wanted to ask you out!” Molly’s cheering was loud, echoing off the creaky wooden walls of the cramped home.

“Mom!” A groggy voice behind me whined. You couldn’t help but laugh. 

As the rest of the family makes their way downstairs, the levels of chaos rose. Ginny and Percy were antsy to open the presents labeled with their name. Fred insisted everyone needed to eat first. Harry and Ron had run outside to discover if the reindeer had eaten the reindeer food the pair had left out on the grass. Molly and Arthur found themselves in the middle of the redhead whirlwind. 

I still hadn’t gotten up from the couch. Nor had George! I was still lying on his chest, my hand tucked underneath my head. It was comfy. No doubt about that. His hand was on the small of my back, thumb slowly tracing circles. My shirt was slightly raised, exposing some of the skin of my lower back. Our position wasn’t compromising, by any means. However, it didn’t really leave room for secrecy. Nor did Harry’s comment earlier. Note to self: make sure to slap him on the arm later. He won’t even be able to say he didn’t deserve it. The shit-eating grin that sat on his face showed no remorse or regret. 

Eventually, both George and I found ourselves getting up. Molly and Fred insisted breakfast came before presents. Percy voiced some opposition, but Arthur reminded him of last Christmas. 

Last Christmas was something special. Much like this year, Ginny and Percy insisted we open presents before breakfast. Begrudgingly, the Weasley parents agreed. They learned from their mistake quickly. Ron and Ginny found themselves particularly hangry that morning. It led to intense arguing over gifts and eventually, punches were thrown. Percy was incredibly jealous of Ron’s quill set and picked a fight he wouldn’t win. From then on, Molly refused to even hear the arguments about breakfast. 

The fried eggs and breakfast potatoes were a delicacy. Fred had helped Molly in the kitchen. He’d found a knack for cooking after accidentally acing a potions exam. Since then, he’s been a massive help with his Mother in the kitchen. The potatoes were heaven, many at the table agreed. Ron groaned once the perfectly seasoned starch hit his tongue. I’d have to agree. They were Heaven on a plate.

“These are delicious, Fred!” Arthur cheered, retucking his napkin into his shirt. I’d witnessed it fall twice since he began eating. It didn’t deter him though, he just continued happily and occasionally fixed the misplaced napkin. 

“Thanks, Dad!” 

“So George,” Harry bites his fork aggressively. He has this strange look on his face. His eyebrows are slightly furrowed. His smile has been replaced with a scowl. He’s trying to be intimidating! “How was cuddling with my sister last night? You better have kept your hands to yourself!”

I can’t help but laugh, “Harry, there was no humanly possible way he could’ve kept his hands to himself,” 

“Better have been a gentleman,” Molly added, replicating Harry's scowl. 

“Perfect gentleman, just as I always am. Harry, my hands were only placed on the most appropriate places, promise. Take your sister's word for it,” George was slightly squirmy in his seat. Was Harry’s intimidation tactics actually working? George’s face was dusted with a slight rosy blush. Holy shit, it was.

The rest of breakfast went by peacefully. Now and again, I’d catch a small look tossed in George’s direction from Harry, but nothing crazy. The topic of conversation went back from George and me to Christmas. Ron was raving about how amazing his presents were last year. Ginny was preoccupied with a conversation with her Father about muggle toys. Arthur loved discussing all things muggles, that was no surprise. He found them the most interesting creatures to exist. Christmas time was his favorite. Arthur had a special fascination with how the muggles treated Christmas. Frankly, it was adorable. No shame for it. 

The unhinged childlike attitudes returned once plates were cleaned. Everyone was desperate to open their gifts from Father Christmas and each other. Nobody wasted time, sucking down their juices and eggs before Draco could spit an insult at Harry. 

Harry, Ron, Ginny, and I all bolted to the tree, seating ourselves around the living room. Percy, Molly, Fred, and George filled in the spots we scattered to. Naturally, George found himself sitting next to me. 

“Hi there, gorgeous,” He smiled as he plopped down on the hardwood floor. 

I returned his cheery demeanor, “Morning to you, handsome. Excited about your gift?” 

“My dear, you’re the greatest gift of them all,”

“Gag!” Harry dry heaved playfully. His dark hair was a mess, strands sticking up or down all over the place. He was one to talk, as he looked like a dragon attacked him during his peaceful Christmas Eve slumber. George rolled his eyes, reaching over me to push Harry gently. The two of them chuckled, with filled my heart. George and I have had rocky times; that’s not difficult to deny. However, as times changed so have my opinions on him. It makes me overjoyed to see how Harry noticed and excepted George wholeheartedly. It was a simple gesture. However, it didn’t go unappreciated. 

Before I knew it, Molly began tossing presents around. George had received a few small, burlap-wrapped boxes. That’s how you know it’s from the Weasley’s. Their wrapping preferences were neutral and more conservationally driven. You can reuse burlap and twine for years! Presents from Father Christmas were more extravagantly wrapped. Boxes from the man were proudly representing reindeer and Christmas light bulbs much like the American muggle holiday movies. 

I was next, as Molly tossed me 4 small boxes to start off with. I elected to open the smallest one first, choosing to work my way up the totem pole. The brown box tied with twin rattled when I shook it. As I opened it, I noticed it to be a shiny pair of earrings. I knew they were from Ginny instantly. While at Hogwarts, she’d found a hobby in jewelry making. She and a few Hufflepuff and Slytherin girls sat in the dining hall during lunch and made all things jewelry. The earrings were gorgeous. They were small golden bells, ones like you’d find on the collar of a cat. They jingled too! 

“Thank you, Ginny, these are gorgeous! I can’t wait to wear them! I’m going to try so hard to match them to as many outfits as I can!” I cheered excitedly, holding the small brown box to my chest. 

The other two, medium-sized, boxes contained various gifts. One box, as expected, contained the knitted Christmas sweaters Molly always made. The box also included a small pair of white wool socks. I recall having a conversation with her in the fall, expressing my regret in not purchasing warmer socks while you two were out shopping. I adored gifts like that. She remembered an insignificant conversation and made something from it. The other box housed two brand new scrolls, the ones with silver and turquoise detailing. I had an admiration for intricately detailed things. I am definitely saving these scrolls for important class work!

The larger box was decorated with colorful wrapping paper. Inside, it contained stacks of brand new (not used!) Herbology and Astronomy textbooks. Those two were hands down my favorite subjects at Hogwarts. These weren’t going to go unused!

As time went on, excited ‘thank you’s’ and cheery squeals were shared. The living room was littered with scrap paper and thrown burlap bags. Many of the family members were now wearing their Weasley Christmas sweaters. I quickly tossed mine on, wanting to feel one with the family. Ginny was wearing the new headband Fred had gotten her. Molly was quick to clasp the gorgeous necklace Ginny had made her around her neck. Hugs were shared between Ron and Percy. Honestly, I believe that's the most tranquil I’ve seen the two brothers. 

“Molly, Arthur, I truly can’t express how grateful I am that you allow us to join you on these holidays. I’m touched you purchase Harry and I gifts and try to make us feel included. You guys are our family, related or not,” I spoke, pulling Harry into my side. Our smiles were huge, even though we stuck out from the Weasley family, we considered them to be family. 

Arthur faced me, pausing his Christmas cleanup. “Don’t even mention it. You two are family. It pains me to know what you both have gone through. Ron and the twins are lucky to have friends as lovely as you. Or more than friends, whatever that is about,” Arthur spoke the last sentence to himself However, I heard it loud and clear. 

“I’m so happy you both continue joining us. You two are so lovely, you’re like another daughter to me deary,” Molly hugged me tightly, I felt like I was being sized up by a boa constrictor. 

After the heartfelt moment, Molly was quick to make everyone clean up. With her authority, she guaranteed everyone’s presents were quickly stored away in their rooms. Ginny began assisting Fred to carry his presents upstairs. They always had Christmas agreements. He enlisted her help in exchange for Christmas goodies. A hard deal to turn up, really. 

“At least I won’t have to worry about my Mom not liking you,” George laughed, learning under the tree to get the last present. 

“Same here,” George handed me the gift. It was a larger box, yet thin in width. It was wrapped in brown paper, similar to the paper bags muggle grocery stores used to help you carry your food and other goods. On it, it had the words ‘From: George’ written on it, a heart accompanying his name. “You really didn’t have to get me anything,” 

“Just open it,”

I took the command and ran with it. 

Gently, I tore the paper. The wrapping job wasn’t gorgeous but the attempt didn’t go unnoticed. George really tried. Once I finally tore all the paper, I was left with a black velvet box. On the back, I noticed a small silver hinge. It was supposed to open. He didn’t just get me a box. I don’t know why I thought that in the first place. I felt a tinge of nervousness in my stomach. However, I didn’t let it get to me. Slowly, I opened the black velvet box until it wouldn't let me anymore.

Holy shit.

Inside was a stunning pearl necklace tucked on top of some white silk. The box had a small mirror on the inside. 

“George,” I muttered, my eyes glued to the necklace. After the years of hating him for ruining something he didn’t know about, he tried to make it right. After his apology, his confession of liking me back, and now this, I had already forgotten what he did. He didn’t. 

“I’m so sorry about what I did to your Mom’s necklace. I always wondered why you were always so angry around me. I had no idea. Not until very recently. Please, let me make this right. I know it’s not the same. It’s not your Mom’s. But this one is yours, for what it’s worth,” George said, placing his hand on my knee. 

“I love it,” 

“I know after last night, we’re kind of in a weird place. I actually had this whole cheesy speech I prepared for when I gave you this. I guess I kind of backed out. I really, really like you. I don’t want to screw this up any more than past me already did. I want a restart. No more animosity and anger. I want to treat you right. Buy you flowers and all the corny stuff Ron wishes he could do with Hermione,” 

“Let’s do this then. You gonna ask the special question?

“Will you be my girlfriend?”

“Of course,”

A restart, huh?

Good thing New Years was right around the corner.

______________________________________________________________

taglist: 

@v0id-sp1rit​

@lokiandbuckywife​

@infinitywarnatenthusiast

@thepeculiarhearts

@kaibie​

[impishtubist]

“bye, bus!”

Okay, so this post keeps crossing my dash, and I tried to bully the Discord into writing a Wolfstar fic for it, only to accidentally end up writing Prongsfoot for it myself instead 🤦‍♂️ I blame @theresthesnitch​. 

----

“You’re sure you have everything?”

Teddy rolled his eyes. “Yeah, Padfoot, I’ve got everything.”

Sirius crossed his arms, aiming a stern look at his godson. “You left your packing until an hour ago, so forgive me if I’m a bit skeptical.”

“If I left anything, you can just send it through the Floo, it’s not a big deal.”

“Maybe I’ll just keep it for myself.”

Teddy shrugged. “That’s fine, Papa will just buy it for me again. He’s rich, you know.”

“Oi!” Sirius reached up to ruffle Teddy’s blue curls, and the boy ducked away from him. “Don’t let Da hear you say that, brat. When did you turn into a teenager?”

“Three years ago, when I turned thirteen.”

“Two minutes!” Stan called from the door of the Knight Bus. Teddy’s luggage was already on board, so he picked up his smaller bag and slung it over his shoulder. Sirius felt a familiar pang behind his sternum. Teddy had spent one month with him every summer since he turned six, giving Remus and Kingsley a break while Sirius got to relentlessly spoil his godson. Teddy would be an adult by this time next year, graduated from Hogwarts and off on his next adventure. Who knew if he even wanted to spend time with Uncle Sirius after that?

“Stop that,” Teddy said, poking him in the side. Other passengers were saying their goodbyes and boarding the Knight Bus. “I’ll see you at the station on September first, yeah? And I’ll be home for Christmas. Besides, you’ll be so busy with your little rascals once school starts again that you won’t even miss me.” 

“You were one of those little rascals once, you know.” Sirius had been teaching at a magical nursery school for--Merlin, for almost twenty years now. He loved his babies to pieces, though now he felt painfully old. Where had the time gone? 

“Yeah, and I was a menace.”

“A very cute menace, though.” Sirius hugged Teddy one last time. “Travel safe, and call me through the mirror as soon as you’re home. Oh, and give your da a kiss from me.”

Teddy pulled back, a mischievous glint in his eye. “But not Papa?”

“Your papa can have a kiss from me when he sends me the Galleons he owes me from last week’s match.” 

Teddy was the last passenger on the bus. The doors closed, and Sirius raised his hand to wave as the engine roared to life. A few other wixen who had come to see loved ones off were also waving. 

“Say bye, bus!” Sirius said cheerfully, as the Knight Bus disappeared with a loud pop. 

“Bye, bus!” someone next to him said. 

Sirius froze. Oh, no. Two decades spent teaching little ones had instilled some ridiculous habits in him, like speaking cheerfully to inanimate objects and encouraging others to do the same.

Slowly, he turned to face the person who had unwittingly bade the bus goodbye, and found himself face-to-face with a man whose expression looked as mortified as he imagined his own did. 

“Er,” Sirius said lamely. “I teach toddlers.” 

“I have a six-year-old,” the man said. 

And then, they both burst out laughing. 

“I can’t believe I said that,” Sirius wheezed. “Oh, Merlin.”

“Do you--do you do that with everything?” the man cackled. “Do you say goodbye to cars too? What about broomsticks?”

“Stop it.” Sirius covered his burning face with his hands. 

“Do you talk to food while you’re cooking? ‘Hello, Mr. Tomato, are you ready to be chopped into tiny pieces today?’”

“You cannot tell anyone this happened,” Sirius said, lifting his head. “I’m going to make you swear an Unbreakable Vow.” 

The man’s laughter tapered off, though he kept chuckling, and he lifted his glasses to wipe his eyes. He had a mop of dark, messy hair on his head, brown skin, and a build like a professional Quidditch player. In short, he was fit, and Sirius’s heart tripped in his chest. 

The man put his glasses back on and considered Sirius, his eyes flicking from Sirius’s feet all the way up to his hair. 

“I might be persuaded to keep your secret,” the man said, “if you buy me a cup of coffee.” 

Sirius’s heart beat faster. Was he really--? 

“Thought you said you’ve got a kid,” he said cautiously.

“Divorced,” the man said. “You?”

“Single.”

“Great!” The man stuck out his hand. “I’m James.”

“Sirius, like the star.” 

James’s hand was warm, his grip firm. A shiver went down Sirius’s spine. What was wrong with him? Getting all flustered over a handshake. He wasn’t fourteen anymore! 

“Coffee, then?” 

Sirius grinned. “Coffee it is.”

[wbellab]

Cherry flavoured revenge | Regulus Black (prt 2)

Part 1 Part 3

Pairing: Regulus Black x fem!pronouns

Warnings: swearing/cuss words, mentions of drowning

Universe: Harry Potter

Summary: y/n and regulus are arranged to be married and it doesn’t go as planed for the latest.

A/n: okay so… I’m not dead I’m just so busy lately but here’s part 2. This is definitely shorter than the first one. Anyway hope you enjoy <3

____

"Alright I’m sorry..."

Regulus continued his way to the kitchen not even sparing her a single glance.

"Come on it’s been two weeks ! I didn’t mean it at first but now I truly am."

If there was one thing that y/n hated more than Regulus, and it was being ignored. And he knew it.

In seven years of knowing each other at Hogwarts, Regulus had never ignored her. He would always respond to all the witty and sassy comments she would throw at him and she would do the same. But he never got upset at her to the point that he would disregard her for two weeks of cohabitating.

"At this point it’s as if you’re dead."

"Oh trust me I’d rather be dead than spend one single minute in your presence." His voice startled her. He took his wand and headed towards the front door before she even got the chance to reply back.

***

Even if she hated regulus’ guts, y/n had to admit that he had lovely tastes in houses. Right after he 'accidentally' nearly died, he was immediately headed to St Mungo’s hospital. It was one of the most embarrassing moment of his life, whether for him or his family. How could cherries make the Black heir look so weak and pathetic ?

She spent her honeymoon night all alone in the cottage that the Black family owned. According to Kreacher(who told her in an unpleasant tone), it was Regulus who chose the property and the designs inside the house. She found it absolutely sweet that he took the time to decorate the house so that she feels comfortable and at ease in her home. This thought nearly made her feel remorse about what she did on their wedding day.

Key word: nearly.

The temperature was too hot for y/n to stay in the house. Outside was no better, the sun was beating down on her unbearably. Still, she decided to to take a stroll through the garden. It was as magnificent as the inside of the house, heavenly beautiful. Freshly green vines were surrounding the exterior walls with all kinds of flowers scattered around and fruit trees that were already starting to ripen their fruits.

However, she thought that Regulus was still outside so she was surprised to see him there. He was swimming laps in the pool that she didn’t know they had. He turned to look at her unbothered as she caught herself staring too long at the black ink in his left arm and blushed deeply.

"I…-"

"Shut up I don’t want to hear you talk." She frowned at his dark tone but still she continued.

"Sirius told me you couldn’t swim… so I’m a bit surprised to see you here."

A growl escaped his mouth as he rolled his eyes and muttered "of course he did."

She sat on the deck, taking off her shoes and dipping her toes in the water. She examined the way his arms cut through water, how his usually wavy black hair came down to the nape of his neck and covered half of his face. Godric only knew how she wanted to run her fingers through them.

Oh and fucking Merlin, his bare chest.

It definitely hit her that she was ogling and she flushed deeply making him chuckle and smirk slightly. Sweet Gryffindor he noticed…

She didn’t move when he approached her and he placed himself between her legs. Taking one strand of her hair that covered her face, he put it behind her ear approaching slowly his face to hers.

"Such a shame that you are extremely gorgeous." He murmured.

"What-"

She felt two hands grabbing her waist and pulling her down the water. She let a small yelp making her swallow some water as she felt that he wasn’t going to bring her to the surface of the water. Her feet didn’t even touch the pool ground.

His arms were around her, pinning hers so that she couldn’t move. She was kicking and punching him gasping for air but he was still holding her down.

That’s it I’m going to die…

She felt her throat and lungs tightening as she felt that she was going to explode. Her head starting feeling dizzy. And suddenly he loosened his tight against her body allowing her to go back up the surface.

She gasped for air, clinging to the ledge of the pool. Coughing the water from her lungs, she turned to the figure standing up in front of her.

"Son of a- go fuck yourself !!"

"Well, well, well this is not the way m good girls talk to their husbands.”

He bend down in front of her and stroke her cheeks. If he didn’t try to drown her only fifteen seconds ago, she could’ve thought he was being tender.

"Now you know how it feels to have your air cut off and nearly die." He wiped his hair with the towel in his hands.

"I’ll feed you every single cherries in the country !" She yelled at him as he made his turn towards the front of the house.

"I’d like to see you try. Next time I’ll tie a fucking piano to your leg before throwing you in the pool." He entered the house, a smirk still splattered on his face.

Y/n grumbled as she felt tears falling on her cheeks.

[adorerdraco]

Malfoy’s Gone Soft! ✧ Draco x Reader

Summary: Draco, your boyfriend, is mean to everyone until you call him out for it.

Warnings: mentions of bullying :( and a couple profanities :0

Words: 2K 

A/N: omg i wrote this on a whim while listening to the euphoria score soundtrack in like an hour idk if its all that but i have no idea what i’m going to do next for Healing Heart so for now i’m just going to write other things for Draco until i get inspired ! & feel free to send me requests ! also thank you for 100 followers you guys are amazingggg !!!!!!!!!!! *insert pouty emojy*

The sound of arrogant and boisterous laughter filled the courtyard, the Slytherin Prince and his minions were tossing around a book bag that a helpless 2nd year Hufflepuff was chasing around every time it was thrown to another boy. One of the boys yelled a foul, “mudblood!” that made the boy tear up as he reached and jumped up for his bag that was in the air every few seconds. It was nothing new to the school, Draco and his band of bullies would bother anyone who they found as an easy target just for the fun of it.

Unfortunately for Draco, you had been passing by through one of the corridors with a group of friends when you had seen the fiasco. As much as you adored your boyfriend, you couldn’t deny the sometimes nasty persona that he had and how much it bothered you. He would always swear up and down that he would stop his antics, but you often encountered him or heard from other people of him being in the same situations that he had promised would stop. 

You marched your way over to the group, a fire in your step and your eyes fixated on Draco who was laughing like a fool. You watched as Goyle rushed to elbow Draco’s side, earning him a look until he had pointed in your direction. All joy in the blond’s face quickly drained once he saw your vexed expression heading towards him.

The book bag had dropped from his hands onto the stoned courtyard ground, the young Hufflepuff hastily grabbed it and ran off in tears back into the castle. You stomped up to Draco, noticing how he had visibly swallowed in fear at what your reaction would be.

“What happened to, ‘I swear I’ll stop being a git to everyone!’” You asked him incredulously, mocking his voice as you quoted him. 

“Malfoy said that?” Blaise chuckled as if it were a joke. Both you and Draco turned to give him a frenzied look.

“Y/N, I...” Draco trailed off, looking around at his friends who were awaiting his response with smug smiles on their faces. Then he looked towards you, a hope glittering in your eyes that he would reassure you and be the sensitive boy you knew behind closed doors and away from his every day reputation. “I...”

“So you have nothing to say for yourself?” you deadpan, a scowl making its way onto your face when you realized he wasn’t going to apologize.

“Why do you care what I do to a stupid little Hufflepuff?” He snickers. Whatever hope you had left went up in flames, he had chosen his reputation.

“Because it’s mean,” you sneered. “Why would I want to be with an arse like that?”

With that, you turned on your heel, walking out of the courtyard and back to your friends where you walked to your next class without turning back to look at the group of shocked boys.

“I think you just got dumped, mate.”

“Merlin’s sake, do you ever shut up Zabini?” Draco fumed, his heart breaking at the question and his mind running a million miles per minute. He began walking towards the entrance of the castle to head into the common room, bumping shoulders aggressively with Blaise as he did.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

You weren’t sure whether or not you and the Slytherin Prince were broken up. Of course, it was the last thing you wanted but you were sick of the endless excuses and empty promises. You knew of the package deal Draco Malfoy came with when you started dating him, but there was a point when it all became too much. You were hoping in a last ditch effort, that if he genuinely really cared for you and respected your wishes, this would be the final push he needed to change.

It’s not like you were asking him to completely stop being himself. You were only asking for him to stop with the unprovoked teasing and pushing around of innocent bystanders. His friends especially, were a big reason why he continued to do it as he loved being the leader of the group and all that came with his positions as; the funniest, the most attractive and charming, the smartest, the wealthiest, the strongest. It was all just a game to him but he never saw the aftermath of his tormenting and how it could really affect someone or their day. You were like a broken record, repeating to him over and over again the same wish you had for him but he never absorbed it.

So now here you were, furiously writing your Potions essay in the library as your mind ran with thoughts of the aggravating platinum blond and nothing having to do with Calming Draught. 

“Write any harder and you’ll break your quill,” a certain timid voice said from in front of your table. You didn’t look up, already knowing it was Draco. You didn’t want to give in so easily to his intoxicating nature because the second his scared gray eyes were to meet yours, you’d melt. “Y/N, I’m sorry. For what happened in the courtyard.”

You sighed, setting down your quill and shaking your head, eyes still trained on your parchment. “It’s not just what happened in the courtyard, Draco. It’s that you do this to someone new every single day.”

“I’ve been this way all my life, I can’t just change who I am,” he argues. You finally look at him, the both of you silently seething at each other.

“That’s not an excuse!”

“Shh! Quiet down, the two of you or you will be asked to leave,” Madam Pince exclaims angrily from her desk. You turned back to Draco, hard eyes trained on him as he glared back at you with the same irritated look.

“I would just like to know why my girlfriend feels the need to suck the life out of all my fun,” he says lowly to you. Your face goes scarlet as you try to contain your wrath from being let out on the whole library, and on Draco who wouldn’t even know where to begin to handle it. But as angry as you were, it was quickly replaced with anguish and pooling tears as you thought of the main reason why you had wanted him to be nicer.

“Because your ex-girlfriend knows how it feels like to get bullied and targeted every day for no reason,” you spit sorrowfully. “I know what it’s like to live on the opposite end of what you think is fun and I promise you it’s nothing near that.”

You hurriedly grabbed all your things and rushed out of the library with tears streaming down your face as Draco only stood there feeling like the biggest most insensitive idiot and asshole in the world. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

It had been a week since the incident at the library and the both of you couldn’t be any more miserable. It had gotten to the point where Draco felt ashamed and gross if he was even accidentally rude to someone, let alone on purpose. The blond boy watched you intently from his Slytherin table in the Great Hall, his friends and their conversation sounding like a distant incoherent buzzing as he focused onto your sad and defeated face and figure from afar. 

He had tried everything he could think of to get your attention, to get you to hear his apologies, but you wouldn’t give him the time of day; you refused to. You were beyond hurt. Not only because of Draco, but also because of the painful memories that had resurfaced that you spent so long trying to get over. It was all just a mess and Draco regretted everything he had said to you and everything he didn’t do for you.

“Just give it a rest, Draco,” Pansy sighs exasperated at the boy’s longing stares. “She broke up with you, stop pouting about it and move on.”

“Shut up, Pansy,” Draco sneers. “Mind your business why don’t you.”

“I’m just saying, if I was her, I would never do or say anything to ruin our relationship,” she shrugs, peering up at the frowning Slytherin through her eyelashes.

“You’re not her though, are you?” Draco snarks, his eyes squinting at her as he shoots the mean remark her way. All the surrounding boys give an “oooh” at the interaction, cackling as they watch Pansy go red in the face before abruptly standing up and leaving the table in a rush. 

Draco did the same and removed himself from the table to dart out of the Great Hall and towards an empty corridor near the courtyard where he liked to hide on an large windowsill. He had enough of his despair and enough of sitting around and doing nothing to win you back, so he got to work on something that would be his last and this time big gesture, to get you to listen.

A few hours had gone by, it was sunny and there was a nice breeze that was perfect for Draco’s plan on winning you back. He especially knew that when the weather was like this, you enjoyed sitting on a bench in the courtyard, the sun caressing your face with warmth as you read a book. 

He walked out of the corridor and towards the courtyard, and just like he knew, he spotted you sitting at your favorite bench angled towards the sun and deeply entranced in whatever book was in your lap. He took a deep breath before nearing you, stopping a few feet away to where you didn’t notice his presence just yet. His hand reached into the pocket of his robes, picking out the small and large variety of origami birds notes he had written and charmed to fly over to you and around you in a pretty and gentle circle. A bouquet of red and y/h colored flowers had appeared in his hands behind his back, all he was waiting for was for you to accept him.

You looked up from your book, eyeing all the paper birds that were fluttering around you and across the way was a frantic looking Draco with his hands hiding something behind his back. You let out a deep exhale, reaching out to grab one of the birds and unfolding the note to read his perfect cursive.

I’m sorry.

Then you grabbed another.

Please forgive me.

Then another.

You are everything to me.

And another.

I promise to change my habits.

And then the final one, the biggest bird of the bunch.

I should have listened to you from the beginning and I’m sorry I haven’t been more sympathetic. I’m also sorry that you had to go through that in your past. You are so beautiful and strong and deserve everything good in this world.

You placed your book to the side and stood up, opening your arms in a hug for Draco before he bolted towards you and enveloped you into his arms with a sigh of relief.

“I’m so sorry, darling,” he apologizes again into your hair as he nuzzled into you. He pulled back, handing you the large bouquet of flowers that made you blush as red as the roses that were mixed into the assortment. “I can’t promise you I’ll be perfect, but I swear on everything I love, I’ll try.”

“You don’t have to be perfect, Dray,” you chortle. “All I’m asking is for you not to be such a terrorizing little git.”

“Done,” he grins, throwing himself into your arms again as you giggled and ran your hands through his hair.

The two of you plop onto the bench below you, Draco peppering kisses all over your face in glee and gratefulness that you gave him another chance to prove himself. He didn’t even dare remove himself from you when he saw his friends strolling by, snickering and pointing to the nearly snogging couple.

“Malfoy’s gone soft!” Blaise yells across the yard, the rest of the boys laughing in response as usual like the mindless bozo’s that they were. Draco rolled his eyes, throwing them the middle finger before nuzzling himself back into your embrace.

[rabbitsf00t]

Our Lady of Sorrows

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Female OC

Word Count: 9677

Type: One shot (will probably make a part 2 + 3 but this can be read as a standalone fic.)

Rating: r18, contains sexual content. MINORS DNI

Warnings: Alcohol (mild), Cigarettes (mild), Swearing (mild), Female Receiving Oral, Squirting, Unprotected P in V Sex, Piercings, Cockwarming (brief + no character mention) angst if you look really really close, mutual pining, mentions of anxiety (mild), FLUFF SO MUCH FLUFF

Description: Corroded Coffin’s first ever show at the Hideout. Eddie sees the girl he’d crushed on since he was 12 serving at the bar, and fate gives him another chance to make her his.

Author's note: I posted this before. I'm just an idiot who deleted their entire blog accidentally. So this is the first fic I’ve posted in almost 5 years. Like many others, Eddie really inspired us to write again. Hopefully it is good. This fic and the potential part 2 and part 3 I will write will all be able to be read as stand alone. Now, please enjoy! Thank you

Her name was Mary.

He’d known her for quite some time, actually. He just wasn’t sure if she remembered him. Since middle school, Eddie had the biggest crush on her. He knew from the day that he set eyes on her. Her first day, moved from Seattle. She was in the year above him, but Eddie had seen her around school. She was very noticeable, in his opinion. Big round eyes and a small button nose, plush lips. Long thick brown hair with the cute face framing pieces he didn’t know the name of. He’d never gotten close enough to get to know her, but as the years went on he’d picked up things about her. She was super smart so she was a year younger than him even though she was in the class above his. She was born in October. Her favourite colour was green. She likes cats and reading. She was good at volleyball and was pretty athletic. She had a dog named Arthur and a Cat named Merlin. Her Dad was a well known chef and bartender in Indiana, but he didn’t know where her mom was. She didn’t talk about her mom, to anyone. She was short, but never let that stop her do anything. She was determined and headstrong and did everything with intent. Eddie was clearly a bit obsessed. But not in a creepy way.

Unfortunately, by his last year Mary had already graduated. He didn’t know anyone close enough to her to ask if she went to college or not. It got a bit harder to focus in school. Not just because she had left, Eddie’s personal life was a mess. But that was in the past. Eddie had grown a lot since she had left. He’d gotten a bit taller, hair longer. He’d got his braces taken off. He was broader, had a lot more definition even though he was still on the thinner side. Since she’d left, he thought at least he’d got a little more attractive. It’s weird that he used the last time he saw her as a specific point in time, at least in his opinion. He found it so strange that while she was such an important part of his life, to her, Eddie was probably just another student she passed in the halls. Eddie hopes his appearance at least made him stand out a little bit in her eyes. Maybe he was slightly memorable, not that it would matter anyways. It’s not like he’d ever see her again. She probably went to some Ivy League college - if not on an academic scholarship surely a sports one.

At least, that’s what he’d thought until he saw her familiar frame stalking across the floor of The Hideout and disappear behind a door that read “staff only”.

“Dude..?” Gareth said, his hands paused in position as he was doing sounds checks.

“Was that?-“ Jeff continued.

They both turned to Eddie who was hooking up an amp.

“shiT!” They yelled in union as they rushed to his left and right respectively.

Jeff would say later that Eddie looked like he’d seen a ghost. Eddie would keep it to himself but it kinda was. To him, Mary was in the past. He thought he’d never see her again, so in a way she was kind of dead? Maybe not the best word, but was no longer present. He’d spent the last year and a half dealing with that fact.

From Jeff and Gareth’s current view point, Eddie looked white. Almost green, maybe? Like he was gonna vomit but also cry and maybe even explode.

“Fuck, dude- are you ok?” Jeff rubbed Eddie’s back. Gareth had a hold on his shoulder, and could feel Eddie quivering under his palm.

“Do you need some water or something? What happened?” Gareth was looking around for something useful.

Eddie felt his skin go cold but his head felt like it was burning from the inside. He felt cold sweat beads running down his face from his mop of stringy hair. He took a few breaths before blinking.

“Fuck.” He said as he stared into space.

Gareth and Jeff shared a look.

“Look man, we can still back out now-“ Jeff started.

“No way, man. It’s our first show, we can’t fuck up this chance.” Eddie spoke while he shook his head in an effort to clear his racing mind.

“Are you sure, though? Like, you really don’t look good right now man. Like, really.” Gareth squeezed his shoulder reassuringly.

“This could be our big break guys. I wouldn’t give this up for the world.” Eddie slapped his face a few times before pushing himself up off the floor.

“We fucking got this.”

 “We don’t fucking got this.” Eddie whispered harshly to himself. He admits, he went a bit ham on the promo. He really didn’t think Chrissy Cunningham would bring the entire cheer squad, half the basketball team, and about 20 other people he didn’t know but recognized from school. She beamed up at him and clapped, mouthing, ‘you guys got this!’. Eddie smooshed his face into his hands and rubbed vigorously. Once he composed his face, He gave Chrissy a wink and a smirk, and she blushed a deep red before turning to one of her cheer friends and gushing. Eddie was a flirt, just apparently not when it came to the girl he actually liked. Chrissy was a nice enough girl, but Eddie has his heart set elsewhere. His mind was also elsewhere. They were due to start any minute, and while the prep was done Eddie couldn’t clear his head.

Mary had definitely changed.

She looked older now. Not in a bad way, her key features were still there. She’s just, developed? Blossomed?

Her hair was longer, just above her butt. She’d dyed it blonde in the face framing parts, some sort of highlights as well throughout. Her brown hair was wavy and fluffy and soft-looking. She still had the same big doe eyes, but now they were lined with dark smudged eyeliner in a cat wing kinda way, her lips full and cherry colored. She had a nose piercing now, the gold metal glinting in the spotlights above the bar where she worked. Her hips were wider, fuller, and her tight low cut jeans hugged them perfectly. She wore a black tank top that showed off her cleavage, and Eddie gulped when he realized he could see her pierced nipples straining through the oh so thin fabric of her top.

“Dude fuckin quit drooling you look like a dog-“ Jeff hissed and kicked the back of Eddie’s knee lightly, causing him to falter a bit. “Bro what the fuck-“

“Good evening patrons!” The voice of the bar owner, Mitch, boomed over the sound of feedback from the microphone.

“Quite a crowd out tonight! Hope y’all are having a good time!” There we’re a few cheers from the audience.

“Now as you all may know, I’m a big music fan! And to show that support we get a live band in here as often as we can!” Mitch paused for a moment.

“Tonight we have a local act hailing from Hawkins High, for my metal heads out there, Introducing.” Eddie took a deep shaking breath before licking his lips.

This was it. Their first ever live show, as an official band, an actual gig. Like not a talent show. Eddie looked to his left, Sam with his bass at the ready. He looked to his right, Jeff beaming back at him. He looked behind him briefly to see Gareth spinning his drum stick in his fingers. Eddie turned to the crowd again, eyes searching across the bar until the fell upon the bright eyes of Mary. She smiled softly at him, and did a shy wave. Eddie’s eyes widened, and his brain short-circuited. Does she recognize me?

“CORRODED COFFIN!!!!”

Gareth did the typical drummer 4 count, his drum sticks hitting each other. Sam’s bass intro began, his fingers playing with practiced ease. Eddie came in soon after with the rhythm, and Jeff with a heavy riff before Eddie began to sing.

Eddie let his muscle memory take over as they played through the songs. His voice rung loud and clear, a sort of harshness rasping into the ears of the entranced audience. You’d never be able to tell that moments before the song started, Eddie almost fainted in anxiety. That was the difference between ‘Eddie Munson’ and ‘Eddie Munson: Lead Singer and Rhythm Guitarist of Corroded Coffin’. Eddie let his eyes wander the faces of the audience. His body was alive, writhing with passion and rhythm. Chrissy liked the way his hands wrapped around the neck of his guitar, liked the way his fluffy hair swayed with the movements of his head. She blushed again when he caught her eye, his wolf-like teeth on display in a sort of smirk as he sang. Eddie knew she had a crush on him. But he also knew that he would never truly commit to her. She also had a boyfriend, Jason. Captain of the Basketball team. Eddie never let that stop him. He teased anyways, enjoying the way she would blush and fluster at the slightest advance. Eddie’s voice rung out loud and powerful, ending the second to last song of his set. His mind, hazy from performance intoxication, took charge as he spoke into the mic.

“Hey folks, how’re we feelin’?” He drawled out. The crowd cheered, an incomprehensible mess. Eddie smiled.

“Now, listen. I hate to have to end so quickly, it feels like hardly any time has passed.” A few sad aw’s we’re heard. “We’ve got one more song for you all!” The crowd cheered and hollered again.

“Now this one, is about a girl, I know-“ he chuckled, “A special girl.”

Chrissy felt her cheeks begin to burn as Jessica elbowed her. She couldn’t help but feel like maybe it was about her. Her hopeful eyes beamed up at the glorious figure of Eddie on the stage, his mane of hair like a halo with the lights that shined behind him.

“Thing is- I never got to meet this girl. I know, crazy, right?” There was a slight pause.

“I saw her one day, and from that moment on, I was obsessed with her. She was so unattainably perfect, In every way.” He met eyes with Mary from across the bar, her lips resting in that familiar soft smile.

“She left one day and I kicked myself every time I thought of moments I could’ve-should’ve done something.” He kept her gaze as he smiled knowingly at her. He enjoyed seeing her smile fade into a little ‘o’ of surprise, her doll eyes even larger. He didn’t see Chrissy following his gaze to the bartender, nor did he see her bright eyes turn dull and fill with tears.

“So anyways- here’s our newest song: Our Lady of Sorrows!”

The guttural grinding of Eddie’s guitar sounded for a few beats before Gareth came through with a heavy drum line. Jeff’s guitar screamed to life supported by the deep ladder runs of Sam’s bass. Eddie’s voice started, a low groan in the back of his throat began the sultry tune. He made sure his eyes never left Mary for more than a few seconds, and she returned his gaze. Her eyes were sparkling, twinkling in wonderment. He stalked her every move. Eddie raked his eyes over her form, the curve of her chest, how it raised up and down with her breathing. Her fingers toyed with a gold necklace around her neck, the long crimson nails she adorned most likely clinking against the metal. Eddie watched as one of the other bartenders leaned down to whisper in her ear. His head was behind hers slightly diagonal, he had to lean down significantly. Eddie could see how his lips brushed the lobe of her ear as he spoke, a sly smirk on what he could see if the guys face. Mary broke eye contact with Eddie to turn her mouth towards the guys ear, responding in her sweet voice. Eddie keened out a breathy moan to finish the song, the band muting their instruments at the exact same second. The crowd erupted into cheers, the other band members were grinning, but Eddie watched as Mary and the other bartender disappeared behind the staff only door. Mary shot him a look before the door closed behind her. He felt the deep heat of jealousy burn a pit in his stomach.

Once she disappeared though, he snapped out of it.

Eddie blinked a few times before turning around. The band all shared high-fives and shiny grins. Eddie turned around, scanning the sea of faces cheering at him before he did a theatrical bow. He barely caught Jessica pulling Chrissy towards the exit, but he didn’t put a second thought to it. Removing his guitar strap from his shoulder, He followed suit behind the others as they clambered down the stairs. There were a few groupies waiting, squealing and begging for signatures. Mitch sauntered over, his Viking frame towering over the people bustling around them.

“That was great, boys. Really enjoyed the tunes, y’all definitely have talent. Tell you what-“ his large hand rested on his chin.

“I’ll make a few calls around, I know a few big names in the rock scene. I’ll see if I can get one of them out to see you guys at some point. In the meantime-“ he slapped a hand onto Eddie and Gareth’s backs, them both jolting with the impact.

“How about in the mean time we get you boys in here every week? On tuesdays? Have a think, don’t rush into anything. Take a seat at the bar and have a beverage on me. Really, I mean it guys. Really impressed.” Mitch smiled under his handlebar moustache, eyes crinkled kindly. He gently guided the boys into the direction of the bar.

The group shared excited smiles as they settled into the bar seats. They chattered over each other all at the same time. They shared their own stories about what had happened and cool stuff they did. Eddie barely noticed the staff only door opening and the same familiar figure from earlier slink to where they sat, on the bartender side.

“Hey guys, great show!” A familiar friendly voice sounded. Sing-songie and sweet, Eddie felt his body suddenly drain of warmth, all the heat rushing right to his head.

It felt like time had slowed down as he turned his head towards her. He caught her eyes and he gulped. This was the closest he’d ever gotten to her. He knew she was pretty. But seeing it close up was something else. Small button nose, dusted with freckles. Her mouth was cat like, from the center of her lips the shape was downwards, but with the smile the corners of her mouth turned upwards like a Cheshire cat. Her eyes were crinkled in a smile, and a light blush dusted her soft round cheeks.

Eddie felt a small smile gracing his lips.

“I went to school with you guys, right? I think I remember y’all.” She gestures to the group, her hand stopped in front of Eddie’s.

“I’m Mary, and you’re…. Munson, Right? Eddie Munson?” She grinned cutely. Eddie nodded like an idiot before Jeff elbowed him with a hushed ‘dude-‘.

Eddie shook his head and noticed the hand extended towards him. He looked back at Mary and she tilted her head to the side, an inquisitive look on her face. Fuck. Eddie grabbed her hand softly. He cringed when he felt his clammy palm squish against her soft ones. She was cold against his skin. He shook gently, worried he might hurt her. She was really small up close. Even though Eddie was sitting, she had tiptoed to be able to reach him and still had to look up to meet his eyes.

“Yeah, I-I’m Eddie, Munson, ha-“ his voice cracked slightly, so he coughed to clear it. “I remember you, actually! Um- so, what do you do? I mean- did you do? When you left, um, Hawkins High?” He managed to get out semi-normally.

She was basically like a ray of sun shining at him so brightly. Her pearly white teeth were so cute, kind of like a rabbit. Very endearing.

“Well, I went to Penn Stats!- I do Classics! And worked around at a few bars and stuff- I’m on the mid semester break at the moment. That’s why I’m back, helping my dad out here. You met him, Mitch?” She asked, her hand still gently clasped in Eddie’s hand. He squeezed her small hand gently, before he released his already soft grip. She left her hand on the bar top.

“Y-yeah, he’s um letting us come here every Tuesday to perform! It’s really great, actually, really appreciate-“ Gareth appears right next to Eddie, roughly hitting his side before interrupting.

“So, you seeing anyone?” He asked bluntly. “Dude?” Jeff barked, shoving him lightly and doing a ‘what the hell’ kind of gesture. Mary laughed.

“Well, nice to meet you too. I’m Mary, by the way, and you’re Gareth, right?” Her laughter sounded like a melody, an angel singing praises to god.

“And to answer your question-“ she ran a hand through her hair. “No, I am not.” She caught Eddie’s eye, her mouth twitching into a smirk briefly before turning her eyes back to Gareth. Eddie went red, eyes wide and mouth gaping.

“Anyways, what do you boys want to drink? Beer?” She asked as she settled down off her tippy toes, her chest jiggling a bit.

“Yeah, 4 beers is good. Thanks, doll.” Gareth cooed in a flirtatious manner. Eddie’s face twists into a scowl and he shoots Gareth a glare.

“Okey dokey, 4 beers coming right up.” Mary clicks her fingers before she swivels around on the balls of her feet. She bends down at the waist to retrieve the beer bottles from the bar fridge. Eddie’s face grows hotter, eyes nearly bulging at the sight. Gareth elbows him and cocks a brow.

“10 bucks says I can bag her before you can-“ he says before Jeff chimes in.

“Dude, no. You know Eddie’s been crazy about her for, like, ever. Don’t be a dick, dude, come on.” He shoots back.

“Fine, fine. Whatever.” Gareth slumps into the seat next to Eddie. Mary returns with the beers, placing one in front of everyone but Eddie.

“And you, mr. Munson, get a special one.” She smiles sweetly as she places a beer and 2 empty shot glasses. Her free hand grabs a bottle from the hot bar, pouring the spirit into each of the shot glasses.

“To commemorate such a wonderful performance- and hopefully a successful music career!” She says as she grabs one of the shot glasses with her fingers. Eddie picks the other up, his hands shaking slightly. She brings her shot glass to his with a soft clink, taps the bottom of her shot glass onto the bar top, before downing it. Eddie follows suit, gingerly tapping it on the bar top before downing it. The liquid burns his throat and he winces, makes a sour face. He opens his eyes to see Mary taking a swig from his beer bottle, before placing it just barely touching his own lips.

“Chase it, sweetie!” She grins at him. He gently takes it from her grasp and takes a swig. It did help, but Eddie could feel the shot burning in his belly and shooting straight to his head.

“Yo, Mar.” an unfamiliar voice sounded from Mary’s direction. Eddie’s eyes flickered to the tall male bartender from earlier. He takes another swig to stop himself from growling.

“Yeah?” Mary turned her head to him.

“It’s 11, your shift is up. You gonna stay for a drink?” He says, his hand placed on her lower back.

“I might! I’m just catching up with some old friends.” She beamed. Eddie blushed again. Did she really view them as friends? Had she really just recognize them with such ease? It had been a long time, and Eddie was scrambling in his brain to come up with any reason why she might’ve remembered him so easily without ever having met him properly.

“Oh ya, cool. Let me know, like if you need a ride or something. I’m off in 2 hours.” He finished before sending Eddie a pointed look and stalking off.

“Well, I’m off the clock now. Can I join you guys for a drink?” She asks with a coy grin.

“Yeah sure-“ Gareth began before Sam slapped a hand over his mouth and Jeff held up his hand.

“Actually, it’s pretty late and me Gareth and Sam have to head off, right Gareth?” Jeff hinted. Gareth paused before nodding.

“Oh, yeah.” He said pointedly.

“Eddie, you’re free to stay though, right?” Jeff asked Eddie as he glanced between him and Mary pointedly.

“Oh-yeah, um, I’m gonna stay a while.” He nodded. Jeff smiles sweetly at Mary.

“Eddie could use the company! But we’ll be heading off, see you next Tuesday?” Jeff asked. Mary nodded. “Yep! I’m here for a couple of weeks, so I’ll see you guys around! Nice meeting you all, and great show!” She beamed at them. Eddie could basically feel Gareth drooling on his shoulder as the other two dragged him away, waving their goodbyes.

Eddie gulped a bit, but tried to maintain composure.

“Well! Looks like it’s just us, hm?” Mary asked as she skipped around the bar to where Eddie was sitting on the customer side.

“You wanna come with me outside for a bit? You can bring your drink!” She asked, her neck craning to be able to meet his gaze. Eddie took another swig, for confidence.

“Oh-oh yeah! Let’s go.” He slid off the chair and followed the smaller figure towards a the fire exit near the stage.

 The cool night air hit Eddie’s feverish skin, and sent a shiver down his spine. The moon was bright and full, the stars twinkling. The door closed behind him with a clang. Mary took a seat on the top of a run down picnic table.

“Man it was so busy! You really got a crowd, huh?” She commented and clasped her hands together. Eddie nodded with a laugh as he pulled a packet of cigarettes from his denim vest pocket, quickly putting one between his lips before lighting it.

“Yep, we’ve done a few shows at Hawkins high though this was our first ever proper performance. I might’ve gone a bit crazy on the promotion though, I really didn’t expect that many people to be there.”

He needed the smoke for the nerves. He couldn’t help but notice her skin raised in goosebumps. The nicotine went to his head eventually, gentle filling it with every inhale. Eventually his eyes wandered to her breasts, her nipples hard and straining against her tank top.

“Oh! you smoke?” She asked in a surprised tone.

“Y-yup, for a while. Bad habit, I know, but I’m still young..” he finished with a chuckle, inhaling deeply.

“You’d think I would do the same, it kinda comes with the territory in culinary and bars and stuff. Everyone smokes-“ she wrapped her arms around her and shivered.

“Well, except me. I hardly even drink, honestly.” She finishes. Eddie, with nicotine confidence, loosens his stance a bit. He takes another deep inhale before blowing it up towards the moon.

“Really? A bartender who hardly drinks AND doesn’t smoke?” He chuckles. “You’re really a saint, huh, Saint Mary?” He kicks a pebble on the pavement with a wry chuckle.

“Saint Mary, haven’t heard that one before..” she roles her eyes, but giggles immediately after. There was a moment of still silence, the muffled music from the Hideout playing over the soft sounds of the night.

“Would you want to?” Eddie asked, taking another puff and a few steps forward.

“Do what..?” Mary asks, eyes even prettier this close.

“Smoking, would you want to try?” He asked, the smoke pouring from his nose as he spoke.

“Oh! Well, I guess? I just don’t know what to do…” Mary bit her lip in thought.

God. Eddie couldn’t help but stare at the plush fat of her lip pressed between her teeth. “I can teach you…?” He asked. Mary nodded, the kind of adrenaline you get when you do something directly against your parents wishes running through her body. Eddie took another couple of steps forward, cigarette hanging from his lips. He took it into his fingers before he flicked the excess ash onto the ground.

“So what you do, is when you put it in your mouth, you seal your lips over it. You see?” He says as he brings the cigarette to his lips. “Once you get to that part, all you gotta do is suck. Not too hard, just gently. Like this..” he says before he draws the air in through the cigarette.

Mary watches, captivated, as the ash end of the cigarette burned a brighter orange for the duration of the breath.

“And then, like when you take a deep breath, you bring it deep into your chest, and then…” Mary watches as his shoulders tense with the inhale.

She’s glad it’s dark out here, else Eddie would see the hot blush spreading on her face. He was so close, his hand spread on the table next to her thigh. He was basically standing between her legs, though not quite as the seat of the bench stopped him. She looked Eddie in the eyes as he finishing inhaling. “You blow…” he whispers, the pushes the smoke from his lungs.

Mary’s eyes flutter lightly as the gentle smoke brushes against her cold skin. It was so warm, and she felt her breathing pick up slightly. There was tension in the air, anyone could tell. Eddie felt a strange calmness. It felt like something else was driving him, and if he listened really carefully he could probably hear his inner voice screaming and banging on the walls of his brain to be let out. Eddie washed his eyes over her frame, her chest moving with her breathes. He could see her swallow, count the eyelashes on each eye.

“Do you want to try?” He asked softly. Mary nodded softly, her brain too mushy to find the words.

She didn’t ever tell anyone, but she’d always had a small crush on Eddie Munson. She never thought he was a freak. She could see him for what he was, a charismatic, interesting, intelligent young man who was never afraid of being authentic. She was shy, but people tended to flock to her. She didn’t really have any practice of being the first person to introduce herself, as everyone else usually came to her. She would steal looks at him during lunch and assembly’s, before and after school. He’d gotten taller from when she’d last seen him, a little manlier. His shoulders were broader, chest a bit more filled out.

Eddie studied her face as he brought the fingers clutching the cigarette to her slightly parted lips. He watched as her lips sealed over the end, her plush lips kissing onto his fingers oh so softly. Eddie felt his eyes getting lidded, watching as her cheeks hollowed slightly as she sucked.

“That’s it, perfect…” he drawled. “Now try to bring it to your lungs…” he said as he pulled the cigarette away from her lips and to his. She tried, but began coughing slightly. The smoke came out in huffs with each cough. He loved the way her eyes brows creased together.

“I know I know, it’s a bit hard at first but you get used to it.” He flicked the butt away before he brought his hand to her shoulder. He slid the hand towards her back and patted softly. He realised she was freezing, shaking ever so slightly.

“Fuck you’re freezing! Here-“ he began taking his denim jacket off and then his leather one. He wrapped the leather one around her shoulder before he place the denim jacket on the chair of the table. He couldn’t stop the sigh that built in his chest.

“Thank you, it’s so warm…” she snuggled herself deeper into the heated leather, and inhaled the scent discreetly. It smelled musky, but also remnants of cologne. Cigarettes and something else she couldn’t quite put.

“So, you doing anything tonight?” Eddie asks, hoping he sounds cool.

“Oh! Nothing, I was gonna stay for a drink but I’m not so sure about that now…” she pauses before asking, “and you? Are you free after?” Eddie liked the way she worded that.

“Yeah I’m free- did you have something in mind you wanted to do?” He questioned in a playful tone. His Wolf-like grin didn’t quite reach his darkening eyes, which were hazy and hot.

“Maybe we could, hang out? If you want to, of course…” Mary asked. Eddie’s brain short circuited again.

“Oh, yeah, um. I know a place…”

 The drive was quiet, apart from the black sabbath album playing. Eddie saw in the corner of his eye as Mary jammed out, her soft singing flowing into his ears.

“You like this type of stuff?” He wondered out loud.

“Oh yeah! Definitely. My dad’s a big fan- I grew up around this kind of music.” She spoke.

“Damn, if only I’d known in high school! Maybe we could’ve gotten along…” Eddie responded in a playful tone.

“Oh, I definitely noticed your band shirts and stuff. I was just way too shy to come up to you… honestly you were a bit intimidating!” She finished with a giggle.

“Me? Intimidating? To you? I should be saying that you were intimidating, being miss popular from your first day!” He laughed back at her.

“I was like 4’5, how could I be intimidating?” She shot back with a squeal of laughter.

“Well for one-“ Eddie paused as he checked the traffic before turning onto a kind of dirt path leading towards the forest.

“You’re so smart. And funny. And athletic-“ he paused again briefly, the road getting bumpy. “For two- you were the most sought after girl in Hawkins, everyone wanted to be friends with you. And lastly, well-“ Eddie paused to think briefly.

“Well you’re… gorgeous.” He finishes as they drive over a slight hill. Once they began their small descent through the tree path, Mary gasped at the view. The serene lake twinkled as the moonlight caught the small movements of the water. Eddie parked up next to a picnic bench, flicking the car off but leaving the music playing.

“Well, here we are- my secret spot.” He smiles and gets out of the van. He goes to Mary’s door and opens it for her, offering a hand to help her down. She takes it, and as she steps down his other hand cups her waist. He closes the door behind her, and they walk around the van towards the bench. He watched her walking, plush thighs straining against the fabric of her jeans. Her bare chest at this angle made Eddie want to throw his head back in a groan, but he just managed to stop himself before doing so. Once they got to the bench, Mary looked up at him.

“We should swim!” She beamed, and began to take Eddie’s leather jacket off. Eddie gulped.

“Are you sure? I mean it’s cold out and I only have one set of clothes in the van-“ she cut him off. “Oh it’s okay, I won’t be swimming with my clothes on.” She said it so nonchalantly as she began kick her converse off. She took her socks off and placed them into her shoes before picking them up off the ground and placing them next to Eddie’s jacket on the table. She paused to look up at Eddie again. “Well, are you gonna join me?” She giggled and began unbuttoning her jeans.

Eddie scrambled to begin undressing. “Oh- um, yeah yeah of course!” He kicks his dirty white sneakers off along with his socks.

He looks up and is met with a glorious view. Mary had bent over to remove her jeans, the thin fabric of her underwear the only thing covering her. Eddie drooled, watching as her ass jiggled with each movement. Her skin was smooth and soft looking, kind of like a peach. He snapped out of it when she stood up straight again, his hands going for his belt. He removed his pants as, putting them on top of his shoes and then he began to remove his shirt. Mary did the same, and when Eddie looked back at her he choked at the sight. She wore a tiny thin bralette, black and lacy. It was so slightly sheer, the glinting of her pierced buds visible in the low light. She adjusted the straps, eyes cast downwards before she adjusted her underwear on her hips as-well. She was gorgeous, soft and pale in the moonlight. Her thin waist complimented her wide full hips, plush thighs looking pillow-y. She turned around and took off towards the water, giggling before leaping in. Her head disappeared under the water and resurfaced with a delighted scream.

“Holy shit it’s so cold!” She laughed loud again. Eddie smiled then sprinted towards her, copying her movement and leaping in. The icy water engulfed him and he re-emerged with a yell.

“Yup, that’s fuckin cold as shit!” He confirmed. Mary swam up to him until there was barely any space between them. Her hair was slicked back off her face, and Eddie could see all her features clearly. She was the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen.

“You’re really pretty.” He says with no hesitation. Inside his head he was screaming, but on the outside he was calm.

“You… you think so?” Mary tucked her wet hair behind her ear, looking away coyly. Eddie swam a bit closer, their bodies brushing against each other with each wave.

“I’ve thought so for a long time.” Eddie continued, leaning down slightly. Mary looked like a deer in the headlights. Her eyes were wide looking up at him, her lips parted slightly, eyebrows raised. Eddie placed a hand on her hip under the water, and she was soft in his palm.

“I-I…” she stumbled in a soft voice.

“I think you’re really pretty too…” she looked down shyly. Eddie brought his free hand out of the water and cupped her chin in his fingertips. He gently brought her face up to meet his gaze again. He leaned down a bit more, noses almost touching.

“Can I…” he whispered, his eyes dark and lids low. Mary’s eyes trailed down Eddie’s face slowly, lingering on his pillow-y lips for a moment before she nodded softly. They both closed their eyes as Eddie leaned down. Fireworks went off in his brain. Mary’s lips were softer than he ever imagined. She tasted sweet like honey and a bit booze-y from the bourbon shot. For Mary, Eddie tasted warm. Eddie let his hand fall from her face and flow down her side to settle on her hips. Subconsciously he pulled her closer, and her small hands fell onto his chest. He deepened the kiss, lips moving together softly. He rubbed the soft flesh of her hips with his thumbs, and softly licked at her lip with his tongue, asking for more access. Mary smiled against him as she let his tongue in, it was hot and explored her wet mouth with each lick into their kiss. Mary’s cheeks burned feverishly hot, and she felt her skin tingle as Eddie wrapped both of his arms around her back in a warm and tight embrace. She sighed into the kiss as the pace quickened, and she could tell that Eddie was trying to hold back but was desperate. She looped her arms around the back of Eddie’s head, and he swiftly grabbed her thighs with his hands and wrapped her legs around his waist with a jump. Mary broke the kiss and yelped, but Eddie’s lips silenced her as he continued their heated exchange. His hands slid from her thighs to cup and squeeze at her ass, them both moaning into each others mouths. Eddie broke the kiss only to walk them back to the wall of the lake. He sat Mary down on the barrier before slotting himself between her thighs again.

He kissed her sweetly, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this…” he whispered against her before he began kissing down her cheek to her jaw, one hand on her thigh while the other brushed her hair off her neck and settled behind her head. He kissed on the pale surface of her exposed neck, sucking and nipping softly. Mary gasped, a sweet sound that spurred Eddie on. He kissed down her neck and throat, sucking marks onto her collarbones. He snaked his hand on her thigh up to cup her breast from underneath as he pressed open mouth kisses onto the soft flesh. Mary moaned again and let her head fall back as Eddie mouthed her nipple through the cloth of her bralette. He could feel the metal of her piercing against his tongue and he groaned at the sensation.

“So fuckin pretty…” he whispered against her skin. His eyebrows were furrowed and his cheeks were flushed, his mouth was swollen and wet. Mary kissed his forehead.

“Let’s take this inside, yeah?” Eddie pressed another kiss to her lips. He pulls himself out of the water and helps Mary up, and he walks behind her with his hands on her waist towards the back of his van. He opens it and hands her a towel, and she dries herself off. She gives the towel back to him and he hands her an old oversized shirt. She takes off her wet bra and underwear and puts the shirt on. It smells like cigarettes and something else, and a hint of whatever detergent Eddie used on it. She climbed into the van, her damp hair wetting the back of her shirt. Eddie grabbed the pair of track pants he always kept in the van and ducked out of Mary’s view to change out of his wet boxers and into the dry track pants. He followed Mary in, leaving the van door open as he crawled up her body. She let her back hit the mattress as Eddie kissed up her chest and neck to her lips. Eddie used his hands to guide her legs open and he slotted himself between them. Mary moaned into his mouth, feeling a foreign heat between her legs growing. Eddie groaned as well, the soft movement of their bodies together giving some sort of relief to his aching member. Eddie begins kissing down her neck again, and sat up between her legs. He moved hands up her body, the shirt lifting as they trailed towards her breast. The shirt settle just below her breasts. Eddie took a moment to take in her form. Her low lidded eyes and open mouth, the dark blush spreading along her cheeks and chest. Her perfect tits lolled apart because of gravity, the outline of them visible through her shirt. He leaned down and cupped one breast in his hand, palming it gently. He used both hands to lift the shirt over them, then went back to massaging softly. He leaned down to kiss and lick at the nipple of her other breast. Mary moaned sweetly, her heart pounding against her ribs. She felt jolts of electricity every time Eddie’s hot tongue would roll over her pierced nipple. Eddie rocked his hips into her crotch as he moved, feeling the heat of her pussy through the damp fabric of his track pants. He took in the sight of her again, bare and exposed under him. Her pussy was cute and small, a tuft of hair on her Pubic area. He spread her legs wider as he dragged his fingertips down from her knee and over her thigh, barely brushing her soaked cunt. She whined softly, hoisting herself up onto her elbows.

“Eddie…” she sighed out.

“Yeah, sweetheart…?” He met her gaze. She looked nervous, her eyebrows furrowed.

“I’ve um… I’ve never done this before…” she looked away. Eddie’s heart swelled.

“That’s okay baby, we can stop-“ he began, making a move to remove himself from her before she interrupted. “No! I don’t want to stop…” she exclaimed before pausing.

“I just, I wanted to ask… if we could go slow?” She explained, and Eddie cupped her cheek with his hand.

“Of course baby, I wouldn’t rush this for anything. I’ve-“ he leaned down to press a kiss to her lips. “I’ve waited a long time, I’ve wanted to have you like this for a long time. And I’m gonna savor every second. I’m gonna make you feel so good, my pretty girl. I’m gonna take care of you, ok?” He finished. She smiled and nodded happily, before Eddie pressed a kiss on her mouth and trailed down.

“Gonna make you feel so good, baby…” he whispered against her skin. She shivered in anticipation. “So fuckin pretty…” he groans as his mouth finally reaches above her dripping wet pussy. He spreads her legs a bit wider before ghosting a breath over her cunt. “Look at you, all wet for me…” he groans as he brings a finger to her slit and runs it through her folds. Mary keens out a moan and let’s her head fall back. Eddie grins and presses a kiss to her clit, her hips jolting up at the contact.

“That’s right baby, let me take care of you, my pretty girl…” he whispered before he lets his tongue lick from her dripping opening to her swollen clit. Mary sighs out, her face relaxed in pleasure. Eddie licks a few more times before letting his tongue settle over her clit. He slowly caresses the bud with his soft tongue, his hands cupping her hips as he licks. He moans into it, the vibrations making Mary shiver. He gradually sped up, loving the soft sounds Mary let slip from her soft mouth. He brought one of his hands to his mouth, wetting his fingers before letting one settle at her entrance. He continued working on her clit as he gently stroked her pussy with his finger. He breached the hole and felt as her pussy sucked his digit in, and he gently pushed it into her. Mary felt her stomach turn as the sensation amplified her sensitivity. She was a gasping mess under Eddie’s hands and mouth. Eddie pumped his finger in and out a few times before curving the digit inside her. He felt her spongey wall and caressed his finger against it. Mary felt an unfamiliar warmth growing in her stomach as she moaned louder, her noises becoming breathier and breathier the more Eddie continued. He took his finger out and spread her slick onto his other finger before gently coaxing them inside her again. Eddie kept a steady pace on her clit, and he could feel her stomach spasming as she got closer and closer to her release. Eddie moaned against her again as he closed his mouth around her and sucked. Mary cried out and tangled her fingers into Eddie’s hair. He pumped his fingers in and out of her as he flicked his tongue over her clit in quick flicking movements.

“Eddie-mm Eddie! I think I’m gonna-“ Mary’s hand tightened on Eddie’s hair and he grabbed her hip tightly as he felt her squeezing his fingers in release. Mary cried out, quivering as her orgasm ripped through her. Eddie stayed latched onto her, keeping pace with his tongue as his fingers fucked in and out of her to ride her through the pleasure. He took his fingers out of her and brought them up to his mouth, Mary watching as he sucked her slick off his fingers and cleaned them off. He shimmied his track pants off his hips to reveal his strained and leaking cock. It was big, rock hard, and so very fat. Mary was worried it wouldn’t fit. Eddie kneeled down to her pussy again and started lapping into her hole, gathering all of her juices into his mouth. Mary sighed out in pleasure and let him go at it. He pulled himself off her and spit the mixture of his saliva and her juices into his palm. Mary blushed as she realized what he had done, and she eyed him as he pumped his dick with their combined slick. He groaned at the sensation, eyes fluttering shut momentarily before he leaned down and pressed hot open mouth kissed to Mary’s mouth. She moaned into him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Eddie broke the kiss to press his forehead against hers, their damp hair sticking to their foreheads.

“Look at me, princess.” Eddie whispered and Mary opened her doe eyes, them meeting in a soft loving gaze.

“I’m gonna put it in, ok? And if it hurts we can stop.” He whispers. Mary nods, her eyes not leaving his. Eddie guided his dick to the entrance of her vagina, swiping it along her folds a few times. He felt the dip where her entrance was, hot against his cock. He pushed in lightly, watching Mary’s face intently to make sure she wasn’t in any pain. Mary was gasping softly, eyebrows slightly furrowed but her eyes were bright with lust.

“Fuck, you’re so tight, baby. So fucking tight, god…” Eddie groaned as his head breached her.

“How you feeling, is it sore?” He asked gentle.

“Mmm, feels so good.” Mary responded with a sultry moan. Eddie smirked at her, still pushing into her warmth.

“That it, that’s my girl… taking me in so fuckin well…” Eddie was breathy, mouth open and hot as he got halfway in. Mary’s gaze was faltering, her eyes going hazy and unfocused. She squeezed them shut with a sharp gasp when Eddie buried himself inside her entirely. Mary felt the burning stretch around his girth cock, the pain was hot and white, while the pleasure was warm and spread itself across her face and chest. There was silence as Eddie composed himself, his heart feeling like it would burst out of his chest at any moment.

“God you feel so fucking good baby, doing so good for me so fucking good to me-“ he rasped out. Mary smiled wryly, “can I move, baby? Are you ready?” Eddie asks sincerely. “Mm, maybe…” Mary rasped out, eyes still closed tightly. He pressed a kiss to her nose.

“I’ll wait until you’re sure, okay? There’s no rush.” he finishes with a swift kiss to her lips. She opens her eyes, a few tears falling down her cheeks.

“Eddie…” she whispers softly. He presses their foreheads together again, his eyes soft and worried.

“Yeah baby? You want to stop? Are you hurting?” He asks. She shakes her head.

“M okay, I just…” she presses a soft lingering kiss to his lips.

“I never thought this would ever happen…” she breathes out a laugh. “I’ve had a crush on you since the day I saw you and- I’ve been away for so long I thought I’d lost my chance, however small it might’ve been.” She giggles lightly, a few more tears falling from her eyes.

“I never thought you would’ve given me a second glance, but to hear we were both just waiting for a moment to finally be close enough together… it’s kind of comical…” Eddie laughed as well.

“I feel the exact same way. I really never thought you even knew I existed… but here we are.” He finished, a warm silence filling the van. He smiled at her, she smiled at him.

“Here we are.” She responded, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. Eddie deepened the kiss, cupping a hand around her cheek. He felt her arms tighten around his neck, her body pressing against his. Eddie felt her clenching around him, hot and wet and so fucking soft. Her legs pulled him closer as they wrapped around his waist. He removed his hand from her cheek and let it fall to her thigh, coaxing it around him. He felt her rolling her hips to him and he took the hint. Slowly, tentatively, he pulled out slightly. He sunk his hips back in slowly, groaning deep in his throat. Mary sighed sweetly and smiled into the kiss. He repeated the movement a few times, slow and steady.

“How does it feel? Are you ok?” He rasps against her lips. She nods softly.

“So good…” she whispers before she kissed him deeply. Eddie groans as he begins picking up the pace. If he was being honest, he’d admit he was worried. She was so tight, so small under him. He’d never forgive himself if he hurt her, even on accident. His worries slowly disappeared with each thrust. He felt her falling apart beneath him, her having to break their kiss to moan and gasp. She buried her face into his neck, and he enjoyed the way her breaths would brush against his skin when she exhaled. His cock filled her pretty pussy up like it was made for it. Mary let her arms fall from his neck and settle above her head. Her eyes were closed, eyebrows furrowed as she let breathy moans fall from her lips. Eddie leaned down to suck marks onto her tits, a hand interlocking into her raised hands. Eddie began snapping his hips against her, groaning out low and slow. He sat up and kneeled above her. His hands cupped her waist as he pulled her against his thrusts. He growled as he watched her unravel. Her fat tits bounced with each thrusts, her arms thrown over her eyes to cover them. Her mouth was open, sweet sweet noises falling from her thick lips. “You’re so fucking gorgeous, baby, fuckin gorgeous…” he grunted out. He felt a familiar heat growing in his stomach as he got closer and closer. He removed a hand from her hip and sucked on his thumb, slicking it up before beginning to rub on her swollen clit.

Mary moaned out nice and loud, “Oh fuck, Eddie- don’t stop, please!” She screamed, panting out desperate breaths.

“You getting close again, princess? You gonna come for me again?” Eddie whispered.

“So good-so close…” she breathed out. Eddie smirked. “That’s my good girl, come for me- my pretty girl..” Eddie pounded in and out of her, wet smacking noises sounded throughout the van. Eddie felt his release coming closer, and he could feel Mary’s walls fluttering around him.

“I’m gonna come, baby!” He yelled out, pumping a few more times before he felt his cock twitching. Eddie leaned down over her and attached their lips in a wet open mouthed kiss. He felt her thighs begin to shake as she moaned into the kiss. He grunted out as he felt his cock shooting his cum deep inside her. He pressed his hips harder and harder into her, his hips bones digging into the fat flesh of her thighs.

“You’re so fucking perfect, feel so fucking good baby, fuck….” Eddie groaned out as he slowed his hips, kissing her cheeks and nose.

“I- so good, Eddie…” she moaned out as she finished. Eddie sighed against her lips, and pressed one final kiss against them. It was slow and languid. Their hands slowly explored each others bodies, interlocking as they finished. Eddie slowly pulled out, Mary wincing as he did.

“Are you ok??” Eddie asked in a worried tone.

“M ok, just a little sore I guess? First time n all..” Mary smiled reassuringly. Eddie pouted. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-“ Mary pressed a kiss to his lips. “It’s ok! It’s not so bad. It felt amazing…” she smiled. Eddie’s eyebrows relaxed.

“You’re sure? Positive?” Eddie cupped both her cheeks with his hands and pressed kisses to them.

“Yes, Eddie, I’m ok!” She giggled, the kisses tickling her cheeks.

“If you say so baby, but let me know if it starts getting really bad…” he finished with a sweet peck to her lips. She gave him one in return, their eyes meeting. They smiled softly at each other, just taking in each others faces.

“God… you’re so god damn beautiful.” Eddie sighed out. Mary smiled in response, her eyes almost entirely closed.

“You are also very beautiful.” She responds matter of factly. “Me? Nah, I’m rugged, I look way older than I am, too.” Eddie responded in a playful tone.

“No no no, you are beautiful, Eddie Munson. No debate.” She beamed back at him. He stroked her cheeks with his thumbs.

“Well, you’re the boss.” He smiled back and kissed her again.

“I will never get tired of that.” He says, kissing her again. Her face frowned slightly.

“Eddie…” She begins. Eddie’s smile fades as well, the warmth swelling in his chest being replaced by anxiety. It came back with a vengeance, his breathing quickening and palms got sweaty immediately.

“I have to go back to Penn State in 2 weeks…” she says sadly. Eddie feels something snap in his chest, he thought it might be his heart. Mary felt a pang in her chest when his puppy dog eyes brimmed with tears.

“That’s ok! We can- we can still be together, right? I only have a month and a bit left before I graduate, we can do long distance ‘til then and-“ Eddie gushes, his big big eyes frantic and searching. Mary let a sad smile grace her lips. “And what happens after?”

Eddie stops, mouth agape. His eyebrows fell as he thought.

“I can- maybe I can move up with you? To Pennsylvania?” He finishes with a desperate look in his eyes.

“Are you sure? I mean, you’ve lived in Hawkins your entire life- and you’d come to Pennsylvania? To be with me?” Mary asked, her expression mirroring his as she spoke.

“I’ve known I loved you since I was a 12 years old- I have you now and I’m- dammit I’m never letting you go again.” Eddie is deadly serious, his eyebrows now furrowed in worry, determination and passion. Mary looks like a deer in the headlights, a soft blush gracing her face.

“You- you’d really wanna come up to Pennsylvania to be with me?” she whispers, blinking slowly. Eddie nods his head furiously in confirmation. He’d never been more sure about anything in his entire life.

“In a heartbeat.” He finishes with a piercing gaze. Mary felt her heart swell.

“I-“ she began. She screwed her eyes shut, crinkling her nose as she thought. She decided that in that moment, she would never let Eddie go either. That it was somehow destiny that had brought her back to him. It had to be.

“I love you.” She spoke as her eyes opened and met with Eddie’s.

There was only a second before Eddie’s lips were crashing on him, all desperation and hunger. She kisses back just as ferociously, their tongues clashing and noses smooshing into cheeks. The desperate noises they made filled the van up as the outlined the shape of each others bodies with their hands, memorizing each other’s every dip and curve. Eddie wrapped Mary’s legs around his bare waist and he felt her already soaking pussy against the underside of his cock that was pressed against it. Eddie grinded against her as they continued to kiss, and he felt her hand travel down his chest to reach his aching cock. She pumped it a few times to spread her slick around him before she positioned it at her entrances. Eddie let himself sink in slowly as they continued to kiss. It was tighter than before, underprepared but so eager it sucked him in deeper and deeper. He grunted and moaned against her lips with no care, bundling her up in his arms as he thrusted into her. Mary keened out and began moaning in a high breathy voice. Eddie was lost in her sea of love, and all he wanted to do was fill her up with his. They grabbed and pawed and caressed each other the entire time, kissing and brushing noses together. Eddie watched her face as she came hard, his name tumbling over and over again from her sweet mouth. He grabbed her cheeks and replaced the words with his tongue, not letting her get a breath in as he rammed wildly into her. She felt her head throb and lungs scream with the lack of oxygen but it heightened her pleasure 10 fold and before she knew it she was creaming all over Eddie’s dick, the liquid coating both of their thighs. Eddie broke his breath-stealing kiss to look down at her body writhing in pleasure as he continued to pound relentlessly into her. He smirked darkly as he looked up at her.

“You don’t know what you do to me, baby…” his eyes rolled back into his skull as he threw his head back, howling in pleasure as he fucked into her and pumped his cum deep inside, pushing it in even further with every stuttering thrusts of his hips. They both rasped in heavy breaths as Eddie pulled his soft dick out of her fucked-out hole. He collapsed next to her before rolling on his back, and he pulled Mary close to his chest. She settled into it like she was meant to be there, instantly melting into the embrace and praying to whatever god created her to make this her afterlife when she died. They breathed each others smell in, and in the haze of sleep overtaking Mary’s body she heard his reply rumble in his chest.

“I love you too.”

[15-dogs]

hi!! can I request #1 from promp list 2 for fred x reader? maybe y/n helped Fred and George pull a prank and now they’re all running from filch. I love your writing btw!! <3

assumptions  |f.w.|

pairing: fred weasley x reader

summary: you just keep ending up in small spaces with your crush fred weasley, don’t you?

prompt: there’s people chasing us and I pulled you into the alley with me and wow you’re close

warnings: none

guide: (Y/N) = your name, (Y/N/N) = your nickname, (Y/L/N) = your last name, italics = flashback

word count: 1990

a/n: omg I absolutely ADORE fred like so so much!! I haven’t written him in so long so I hope this does him (and your request !) justice :) hope you like it!!

“Go, go!” Fred shouted at you, taking you by the wrist and tugging you down the hall. George ran beside you, throwing glances over his shoulder at a particularly angry Filch charging at you three.

“What did you get?” you asked between pants.

“Now’s not the time for questions, love!” George replied. You didn’t notice as he received a sharp glare from his twin over your head.

“Lookout, (Y/N), lookout. Does that word mean anything to you?” Fred stared down at you, feigning anger.

“I’m sorry, I got distracted!”

By what, you’d never tell him. As the twins had browsed through Filch’s office in hopes of finding their canary creams prototype, Fred had gotten rather warm. He decided to remove his sweater, accidentally tugging his shirt up with it to reveal his Beater-toned body.

You had fallen for Fred a long time ago. It was a few years back, you were staying at the Burrow. Your ex boyfriend had broken up with you a few days prior, claiming that you were just too close with those Weasley twins, especially Fred. You were up for days, racking your brain about what you did wrong. You felt you made a terrible houseguest in that state, rather opting to wear a bright smile around the family when you truly weren’t at your best.

You couldn’t sleep that night. You tiptoed down to the kitchen for a glass of water and jumped out of your skin when Fred popped out at you. He muffled a chuckle at your mortified demeanor before frowning and quickly apologizing when he saw your puffy red eyes.

“Are you okay? I swear I didn’t mean to make you cry,” he whispered, bending down to meet your eyes.

“No, no. You didn’t do anything, Fred. It’s just...the breakup has been hard.”

“Oh.” Fred looked off to the side, his brow knit together. “Do you want to stay with me tonight? I know that that sorta thing is terrible when you’re alone.”

Your traitorous heart skipped a beat. “Your mum would kill us.”

“That’s not a no,” he teased in a singsong tone. A soft giggle escaped your lips; wait, since when did Fred make you blush?

“Come on,” he offered. He motioned you towards him with a flick of his hand as he stalked towards the couch in the living room. He turned around, noticing that you hadn’t budged. “Come on, love, it’s just me.”

“Why does that give me a bad feeling?”

Fred shot a devilish grin at you that had you weak in the knees. He sat down on the couch, tugging you down beside him. You sat politely beside him, glancing at him from the corner of your eye.

“What’s all this? Since when have you been afraid of cuddling with me?” His face grew wide with embarrassment. “Merlin, I smell, don’t I?”

You slapped a hand over your mouth to fight back a cackle. “No, no!”

“Then get over here!”

Fred outstretched his arms and you clambered into them, your face entirely red. You rested your head against his chest, feeling the soothing rise and fall slow down as he, too, began to fall asleep. His arms moved up and down your back, calming you instantly.

At some point, you had fallen asleep. You only woke up when Fred had picked you up to put you in your bed. He had no idea you were awake and you weren’t about to test that theory by saying something as he carried you up the stairs. He placed you in your bed, tucking you under your sheets with care. He faltered a moment before leaving, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

It was then you knew you had completely fallen for Fred Weasley, whether you liked it or not.

Your head turned for a fraction of a second but that was enough time for Filch to catch up to you. George groaned, rolling his eyes as he breathed, “You two better thank me for this!” He then shoved you and Fred in a tiny broom closet as he ran off with the stolen items.

Filch ran past your little hiding spot and Fred tucked you close to his chest. You could feel his heart hammering and his breath was hot against your face. You had heard Filch’s footsteps trail off towards George but you didn’t dare say a thing, not with the position you were in.

“You know,” Fred began, “I believe that Filch is out of the way thanks to Georgie’s little stunt.”

You hummed in content. “Maybe we should wait around for a few more minutes just to make sure that he doesn’t come back.”

Fred’s lips twitched upwards in a smirk. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re using this as an excuse to be close to me.”

“W-what?” You cursed yourself for getting so flustered by him.

“That’s a yes if I’ve ever heard one.”

You sucked in a sharp breath as his eyes flickered between yours and your lips. Was he implying what you thought he was? He most certainly was as he was slowly inching towards you, his strong hands anchored on your hips.

“Oi!” George called out. You jumped so fast out of Fred’s arms that you slammed against the wall behind you. “Get a room!”

“That was kind of the plan,” Fred added, throwing you a glance. You were sure that you had never looked so embarrassed in your life.

Just to make matters worse, Filch appeared beside George, sneering at the two of you. You and Fred let out a loud groan as you stalked over to the man, prepared to get punished unjustly for your crimes.

Things had been so strange after that. It certainly felt like a heat of the moment situation so you didn’t dare bring it up with Fred again. However, you seemed to catch a few lingering glances from him but brushed them off as nothing but a friendly stare.

You had gotten a week’s detention with the twins, doing anything from cleaning off the desks in the Potions classroom to setting up the materials for the next Charms class. Unfair? Absolutely. Grueling? Never, not when you had Fred and George with you. They always found ways to have fun during detention, even if it meant getting scolded. 

Fred, George, and you were placing down small white feathers for the first years to use during Charms the next day. You three circled the desks, positioning the feathers ever so carefully atop them.

“Hey, (Y/N/N)!” Fred called out.

As you turned around, you were attacked by a feather that Fred had enchanted to tickle you. You cackled involuntarily as you patted your pockets for your wand, yanking it out and enchanting a hoard of the feathers to do the same to him.

Just as the fun began, it ended.

“Miss (Y/L/N)! Mr. Weasley! And...er, Mr. Weasley?” Professor Flitwick bellowed as he entered the classroom. The feathers fell to the ground an instant.

“What?!” George threw his hands up in the air. “They started it! I was just a spectator! Honest!”

“That’s exactly what the true perpetrator would say.” A wicked grin spread across Fred’s lips that had a fleet of butterflies occupying your stomach. Fred then turned towards you as you walked over towards him, leaning against the desk beside him. “Don’t you agree, (Y/N/N)?”

“I most certainly do, Freddie.”

“I hope you three understand that I’m not blind. I know that Mr. Fred Weasley and Miss (Y/L/N) were ignoring their duties,” Flitwick informed, his arms crossed. “Detention. Just you two, tomorrow night.”

“But Professor-” you began to protest.

“I expect you to be here right after dinner.”

Flitwick left the room shortly after, throwing careful glares over his shoulder. George sneered at his twin, feigning annoyance. However, you didn’t have to pretend. You slapped Fred’s arm as he snickered.

“What’s so funny? I have to spend another night with you! And without George this time!”

Fred threw a wink at you that had your heart skipping a beat. “You say it like it’s a bad thing.”

You could feel your face heat up as you scrambled for a response, praying to Merlin that it wasn’t obvious how flustered a single action made you. 

“Anything that has Fred Weasley in it is a bad thing.”

You thought that you were going to faint, Fred was so close to you. Flitwick had forced you two to clean out the supplies closet. You were pretending to be upset with him for landing you yet another detention but his stupidly handsome face made it so difficult.

You were just about to scold him for the thousandth time that night when he had placed a hesitant yet firm hand on your hips as he reached above you, placing a small glass jar on a shelf. All intelligent thought flew right out of your head. All you could do was blush-- it was embarrassing.

Fred leaned down so that his breath fanned over the back of your neck. You shivered at the sensation while he whispered, “This just keeps happening to us, doesn’t it?”

“H-huh?”

Smooth, so incredibly smooth.

“Getting stuck in broom closets and such together.” Fred stood up to his full height but his hand was still anchored onto your hip. “If no one knew any better, they’d start assuming things.”

You chanced a look over your shoulder at him-- that was a mistake. He had that lopsided grin that made you want to melt. You cleared your throat and turned back around, hoping that he hadn’t noticed.

You settled on avoiding the topic, seeing as you couldn’t do or say anything without sounding like a complete idiot.

“Assuming things?”

So much for avoiding that topic.

“Yes, assuming things.”

“What sort of things?”

“If I saw two incredibly attractive people going in and out of broom closets, I’d assume that they were snogging.”

Your heart leapt into your throat. Your body went rigid and your eyes wide. It took your brain a few seconds to process what he had just said. A quiet chuckle left Fred’s lips, his chest rumbling against your back.

“You think that I’m attractive?” you asked, gaining confidence.

Fred spun you around so that you were flush against his chest. You sucked in a sharp breath, feeling the upperhand slip from you.

“Love, I think you’re gorgeous.”

You laughed nervously and stepped backwards out of his grasp. “These things sure are small.”

“You’re doing that thing,” said Fred, stepping towards you.

You gulped. “What thing?”

“That thing you do when you’re nervous. That adorable little laugh.” Fred brushed some hair from your eyes, his gaze piercing. “Do I make you nervous?”

“What?” That same nervous laugh fell from you again. You frowned, pursing your lips in a tight line.

“That laugh. I do make you nervous, don’t I?”

“What? No.” Your laughing spilled into your speech now. Merlin, this was humiliating.

“Is it me? Or is it the assumptions about us?” Fred quirked a brow up, awaiting your response. When he didn’t hear anything, a lazy grin twitched his lips upwards. “It’s both, isn’t it?”

“Yes!”

You did not mean to say that.

“Oh?” Fred placed a hand on the shelf over your end, effectively boxing you in.

“No, wait-”

Fred leaned down, planting a passionate kiss on your lips. It was heated, like it was pent up from years and years of yearning. Your hands ran up his chest and tangled in his hair. You felt the world was spinning; it didn’t feel real.

Fred was the one to pull away, placing gentle pecks on your lips. He rested his forehead against yours as he panted, a wide smile on both of your faces.

“So,” he breathed, “how about we confirm those assumptions?”

“It’s like you read my mind.”

[embrassemoi]

Surrounded by the Moon and Stars ✷ 33

Pairings: Sirius B, F!Reader, Remus L   Warnings: Swearing, unhealthy defence mechanisms

【 Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Playlist 】

Chapter 33: Betray The Moon as Acolyte

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September 8th, 1976

Remus peered up to the night sky, resplendent with a coruscating kaleidoscope of stars and the full moon. He yawned, acutely aware of his bones shifting, aching and cracking. Resting on a small cot pressed against the wall in the corner of the shrieking shack, Remus felt his temperature rise and skin stretch too thinly across his body.

“I’ll be back once the sun rises, dearie,” Madam Pomfrey called out, the door millimetres from locking shut.

“Wait,” he said and Madam Pomfrey re-opened the door with a warm, motherly smile.

“Yes?”

“Thank you. For always helping, I know it can be… tiresome.”

How long has it been? That Pomfrey had been helping him out, every full moon — had known of his affliction and been there to assist? It was years now, countless hours of her time wasted on him.

Was he that much of a burden? The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth, that made his face pucker and heart lacerate itself in fresh wounds.

“Don’t concern yourself with me, honey.” Then the door clicked shut and he heard her utter a spell; to confine the beast within the four walls.

The tormenting plague increased every minute as the countdown to his transformation loomed. His heart thudded stridently and his breathing was ragged and strained. His teeth grinded against each other and his tongue swept across them, feeling them elongate and reshape in preparation.

Remus grabbed the hem of his jumper, exasperated by the overwhelming heat and because he didn’t want to shred it in the process. As he slipped out, feeling the adored red fabric, tattered with holes and frayed yarn in his hands, the door opened and he could already smell Peter and James. Subconsciously, he shielded his body from them, to avoid them from seeing all of his scars.

Remus became dizzy instantly. James wore a particularly strong perfume that day.

More than anything, over the pain and hint of repugnance, he was nervous. It would be the first full moon since… the prank that the Marauders would be together for his transformations. Or all the Marauders aside from one and nobody wanted to address it.

A sharp pain thundered through his skull and he knew time was slipping from him. Remus couldn’t recall the last time the moments before his transformation were that painful.

“You okay, Moons?” Wormtail asked, dropping down beside him. Prongs followed in suit, taking his sweater and folding it neatly.

“I’m fine — umph —”

“Shit! Prongs, get back and turn. Now!”

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After a week of lessons, there were considerable adjustments to the curriculum. Everyone noticed and it quickly dispersed a sombre milieu on all of Hogwarts.

Classes were smaller, many parents deciding to transfer their children to other magical schools around the world. Y/N even received a few worried letters from Matthew that there was an abundance of new British students attending Ilvermorny.

In his worried letters, Matthew informed her that the MACUSA and French Ministry of Magic had been stepping in, fighting forces against the wizarding war. It was all news to her. Ever since James’ parents cancelled their subscription to the Daily Prophet after their beliefs that they were biased, she hadn’t been able to catch up.

More defence and attack spells were taught and everyone became well aware of why someone of Professor Elway’s reputation and skill was there. The same went for the Duelling re-opening and even Flitwick initiated small tutorial sessions for students of all grades to teach them defensive spells.

Defence Against the Dark Arts became nothing more than a Muggle military camp. Elway drilled the students; attack and defence spell after the other, never stopping for a second. Transfigurations focused more on concealment and vanishing charm and every day McGonagall looked as if she aged a decade by the solemn, haunted look that nowadays was permanently carved into her.

Herbology went over a vast majority of life-saving plants, herbs and how to make their own medicine. And Potions heavily focused on identifying spiked potions with poisons and how to create reversal serums in case of emergencies.

The students of Hogwarts weren’t brainless. They knew they were training them for war.

She tried to ignore it, but if anything Y/N felt foolish. The magical world was meant to be an escape, not a guardhouse.

It didn’t help that the murders from the summer played heavily in her mind along with the rumours of Voldemort recruiting students from Hogwarts, prompting a spike of distrust to spread rampantly. It wasn’t time to fight or lose people but to keep those you trusted and loved close. So Lily keeping her distance had her worried.

Sorted into the same dorm as last year, she reckoned she would have some time with Lily but every day it seemed like she was busy with prefect duties, or had homework, or reading, or a new study group she needed to rush off to. She and Lily hadn’t resumed their usual nightly routines either, hadn’t sat with her in the Great Hall since the welcome back feast and hadn’t said more than a word to her.

It was evident that Lily was avoiding her and only her.

Maybe Y/N had gotten clingy, got too close too hastily because it felt too similar to how her mother treated her. It caused the imminent, spine-chilling feeling of wanting to push everyone away.

Extreme distress was starting to pile up.

Luckily, James stayed a constant consistency in her life and a lot of her pent-up fears dissipated by his presence. He never ignored her, if anything he went out of his way to be nearer. Even Peter and most notably, Remus, had become part of her daily life more than ever.

It was terrifying and everything told her to run. Don’t get too close, don’t get too comfortable. But it was hard not to.

That morning, James crept up to her dorm, knocking softly as she popped out, ready for the day. He looked exhausted; his eye bags were prominent, darkened and cradled in his arm, he held Remus’ rabbit.

“To keep him company,” James explained, yawning while escorting her down the staircase, passing the rabbit over. “It was a rough night.”

It would be the first time they would try to incorporate Y/N into replacing Black and balance out James’ other priorities with Remus’ moon cycles. And unable to reschedule Quidditch try-outs to another morning and James forced to leave prematurely, she would have to step in.

But her fears skyrocketed. Were they pushing it? She was only visiting him… It wasn’t out of pity and she genuinely wanted to be there to support Remus.

“What if he doesn’t want visitors?”

James rolled his eyes. “It will be fine. He’ll appreciate it more than he’ll let on.”

But then a faint floral and citrus smell flowed through the distilled air as she took a deep breath.

“James, you smell really good... Are you wearing perfume?”

His frown transformed into a prideful simper. “Bought the same perfume as my mum. Helps when I miss her.”

She gasped. “A mama’s boy!” And then pinched his cheek.

About to step out of the portrait, James must’ve accidentally activated a prank because the moment his hand brushed against the portrait, four Muggle stereos floated above his head, blasting break-up songs on the highest volume. It rattled the walls and made their ears bleed.

“Fucking hell!” James shouted, his wand swishing around to stop the music while Y/N stuffed Remus’ rabbit inside her bag and bewitched a silencing spell around it.

“Students are sleeping!” Lily shrieked, rushing down the stairs and charmed away the stereos.

“Oi! You think we don’t know?” James retorted, a hand clutching his ear. “Emmeline…”

“Emmeline?” Lily repeated, shaking her head. “May Merlin himself save the poor girl daft enough to end up with you.”

The only enlightened that took away from the war and recent murders was Emmeline and her friends pranking and wreaking havoc like the Marauders onto James as a punishment.

He deserved it and even James agreed.

“Where are you two headed?” Lily inquired and for the first time since the train ride, she addressed Y/N head-on.

A glimmer of hope.

“Aw, finally starting to care about me, Evans?” James joked although it’s laced with uncertainty.

Y/N cut off Lily before she had the chance to speak, eager to answer her question. “It’s Remus.”

Recognition filtered through her, gaze shooting up to the large grandfather clock beside the bookshelves. Lily’s head bobbed repeatedly, pressing her lips together sympathetically. She considered James for a moment.

“Will you be back in time for lessons?” Lily then whipped her hands around. “Y’know what, forget it. I’ll take notes for… both of you.”

Y/N felt James nudge her foot, simultaneously forcing out a cough. His hand went to scratch behind his neck. “R-right. Erm, I — we appreciate it, Evans, but ugh — we have a free period this morning.”

Lily’s jaw dropped. “Oh. Sorry.”

“NO!” James said a little too loud. “I mean, no. It’s fine. Thank you.”

Y/N pursed her lips, her neck bending as her shoulders tensed while watching their interaction play out. “Alrighty, we should go. Thank you, Petals.” She interjected. Her hands spun James around as they walked out of the common room and to the hospital wing.

Both students groaned out loudly. Black was there, sitting on the ground and back pressed against the wall to the wing.

“He doesn’t want to see you,” James challenged. His feet pivoted to Black, before her hands pressed against his chest, preventing him from touching Black and starting yet another fight. “Leave it.”

His eyes flickered from her to Black. Sighing, he made a slight rearward movement and removed his glasses to rub his eyes.

“Just don’t follow us.”

They walked inside without sparing him another glance.

“Here comes the fucking sun, Moons!” James chirped, his mood altering drastically. But she staggered behind a beat.

Remus was already awake, quietly chatting to Peter. His bed curtains were half drawn and she took his rabbit from her bag, pulling it close to her chest.

His head snapped in their direction, but instead of his eyes landing on James, it went squarely to her. She smiled, eyes analyzing every ripple of expression. He didn’t seem angry. No, not at all, but stunned.

Once James realized she wasn’t by his side anymore, he turned and looped an arm over her shoulder. He whispered, “Moony won’t bite. It’s okay.”

“I wasn’t expecting you.” Remus finally said, smiling.

“Of course I’d come.” Confidence now circulated her body as she approached him, handing over his rabbit. James was delighted at his response while the rabbit nuzzled its way into the crook of Remus’ neck, tickling him. She murmured into his ear, not wanting to peer pressure him by others' wants, “You don’t mind me being here, do you? I’ll leave, no hurt feelings.”

Remus shook his head, petting his rabbit. “No, please stay.” He croaked, voice deep and tired.

“Oi!” James said, albeit quietly.

“Flirt somewhere else,” Peter added with false annoyance.

James nodded. “So, little Moony —”

“Little Moony?” Remus groaned. “What?”

“Aw,” she teased, “Is moody Moony making an appearance?”

“Did you come just to make fun of me?”

But then Peter grinned cheekily, moving to softly slap his hand down on his thigh in the same tempo as Here Comes the Sun. Y/N and James immediately caught on, ready to chagrin while Remus shook his hands in front of his face to get them to stop.

“Don’t you —“

“Here comes the sun, moody Moony —“ “Crikey.”

“Here comes the sun, and we say it’s alright!” They sang, keeping their voices to a minimum to not worsen his potential headache. They had to hold back their laughter as Peter began to replicate the horrible instrumental with his voice. James sang the loudest. “Little Moony, it’s been a long cold moon cycle.”

Madam Pomfrey poked her head from her office, ready to tell the visitors to be quieter than a mouse — or kick them out in favour of Remus’ rest but she froze. Remus was poorly attempting to cover his smile, his cheeks burning a bright red and she hadn’t seen him that happy after full moons. And after what happened last year, his happiness was all she wanted. So she sat back down, smiling to herself at the horrid sing.

“Little Moony, the smiles returning to the faces —”

“Guys!”

“Little Moony, it feels like years since it’s been here.”

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James eventually left, rushing to tryouts with Marlene with a great deal of apprehension. When the bell rang, students rushing down for breakfast, both Y/N and Peter departed momentarily to the Great Hall, grabbing a few snacks and tea Remus requested.

But the moment Peter stepped foot outside the hospital wing, it was as if any sort of energy left his body. He became sluggish, moving slowly and yawned multiple times.

“Pete, go back to him, I’ll get everything,” she implored. “Or get some rest. I can’t imagine staying up all night can be good.”

“It’s —” A yawn. “— Sorry. I’ll be fine.”

She didn’t push. They made their way around fast and exited quickly before a group of seventh and sixth years swarmed Peter. A few even greeted her, attempting to strike a conversation.

Peter sent her a dejected look, passing her the rest of the snacks and teacup.

“I’ll meet you there.”

She rushed back in record time. Black was still sitting outside the wing and she could faintly hear him muttering her name but she disregarded him wholly.

But the sight inside the hospital made her heart shatter.

Remus was haggard, dishevelled and face screwed together in pain. He tried to push himself up multiple times to reach behind his head, to his pillow. But it was futile.

The crinkling of the wrapper in her hand made her wince; it became the loudest object in the world at that moment. It forewarned Remus and she gently padded over. She sat down gently on the edge of his bed, setting down everything on the metal tray.

“Don’t push yourself — here, let me.” Remus visibly reclined into himself, covering his scarred arms with the blanket coiled by his side. But he listened without complaints as she reached behind his head, fluffing his pillow and helped him lay back down gently. “Not feeling too good?”

“Like shit.”

It became awkward fast.

“Um… Peter’s coming. Was held up with a couple of seventh years.” “You can leave if you don’t want to be here,” Remus blurted out, “I won't force you —”

“Woah there!” She felt as if she was slapped by him. The sudden change had her wheeling. “Who said you’re forcing me? You’re my Moony, no?”

He breathed out a chuckle and shifted towards her. She glanced at the tray with a few potions. What he said stuck to her.

“Do you mind if you can pour those into my tea? Thanks.” Remus croaked.

She nodded, unscrewed the cork to the vials and mixed it into the drink. The clinking sound of the spoon tapping against the porcelain cup.

“What is this?”

“Um… a mixture of powder silver and Nightshade,” grumbled Remus, trying to push himself up as she handed him the cup. “Helps with the pain and fogginess.”

Her mind was restless. “Can I ask some questions?”

His eyebrows knitted together. “Questions?”

“Y’know, about being a werewolf.”

He took a giant gulp. “Did you just skip all the Werewolf questions on the OWLs?” Remus laughed.

“I bet half of it’s false.” She admitted truthfully. “Besides, how am I supposed to help next time if I don’t know?”

Remus stayed quiet for a long time after she said that and she wondered if she pushed a boundary. But then he nodded, urging her to continue.

“Okay… so silver doesn’t hurt you, right?” She watched as Remus sip his tea before having to put it down to laugh.

“Myth.”

“So all the silver bullet stuff..?”

He gave a full-body laugh. “Myth. Sorry, not what you were expecting?”

“No,” she admitted after a bit, embarrassed. All those children's stories were false…

“Silver can’t hurt me, I don’t grow hair rapidly. I like eating rare meat; I have trouble sleeping, I don’t have curved fingernails or low-set ears. I can’t run super fast but I can see better in the dark, can hear, smell and am stronger than the average Muggle or Wizard.”

“Can you always smell or hear better? Or does it increase near the full moon?”

“It becomes stronger near the full moon and after for a while.”

“Wait… Does that mean you can smell people. Like me?!” She was appalled and crossed her arms over herself as if the action would suddenly cover any scent.

Remus barked out laughing before wincing as a dull pain shocked through his system. “You smell fine. Don’t worry.”

Her hands found their way to cover her mouth. She was mortified. “You have a way with words, Lupin.”

Remus was on the verge of tears, nearly choking on himself to prevent laughing. He endured the deep bruise on the side of his ribs digging into him but he couldn’t stop.

She slapped his arm playfully and took the now empty teacup from his hand, setting it down on the metal tray and ushered him to slide over in his bed. He doesn’t hesitate.

Y/N slid beside him, and she could feel the fluctuating rise and fall of Remus’ chest as his chuckles came to a slow halt. She took the rabbit from his lap, holding it in her arms carefully.

“Does she have a name?” She questioned, scratching behind its floppy ears. Remus chose the least threatening rabbit.

“No.”

“We should think of one then.”

Remus watched her, listening to the words pouring out. But then he cringed inwardly, reminded of his cruelty to her a couple of months ago. He wasn’t expecting her to visit and it came as a pleasant surprise. It made his heart flutter. She wasn’t scared. She hadn’t been lying that night. He was accepted.

He tuned in to her heartbeat: steady and calm. Slow.

Her words echoed in his head. I feel safe with you.

Safe.

Remus felt a whisper of a smile worm it's way onto him. As soon the realization came, the dull ache in his body subdued, the burning in his throat faded and the hollow ache in his heart filled with a golden glow. Just a bit.

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September 10th, 1976

“I’m sorry,” Black said, his eyes wide and pleading as he sat beside her in the Great Hall. She ignored him.

“I need to explain, please,” Black begged in a hushed voice while she searched the library’s premises for Regulus. She ignored him yet again.

“Tesoro mio,” Black flirted, both sitting in the common room as she added notes in the werewolf section in her textbook. His new tactic caught her off guard but she prevailed, getting up and leaving.

“Talk to me,” Black whined. “Please.” She ignored him, continuing to walk to class calmly and held her head high. She just left the hospital wing and Black was trailing her.

But he grabbed her wrist and pulled her into a nearby broom closet and closed the door.

“Get off of me!” She nearly screamed. Thankfully, he was smart enough to keep a healthy distance away. She kept her hands balled into a fist, preventing herself from taking one of the dust brooms and smashing it on his head.

“Sorry! But you won’t talk to me any other way!”

Darkness enclosed them, only the light seeping through the cracks of the old wooden door illuminated Black as every ounce of restrengthen was pushed to the edge.

A flurry of apologies fell from his lips but she wouldn’t have it. Simply looking bored at her nails and tapping her foot against the ground.

“I know you’re mad — you have every right to be! I get that, I understand.”

“Then leave me alone?” She jeered sarcastically, handing grazing the doorknob.

“Wait! Please, just hear me out — let me explain —”

“Explain what?” She lashed out through gritted teeth. “You should count your stars that you don’t have an attempted murder charge.”

Her heart thumped rather fast and would have been distressing had she not been controlled by anger. Everything was overshadowed by a grim penumbra sweeping over them, closing in on her and Black and it wasn’t because of the lack of light in the dingy closet.

She was revolted by him. Sick of seeing his sad face, moping around the hospital wing or looking at her or the other Marauders in yearning.

“Do you think I’ll care about what you want to say?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Apology not accepted, dipshit.”

His head bowed. “I deserved that.” “You think?”

“It’s just that —”

Her temper spiked to the highest level and her hand drifted to her back pocket and grazed the tip of her wand.

“I —”

Something in her snap. “Shut up. Shut up! Stop trying to defend yourself! Stop it! I don’t want to hear it!”

Black was visibly shutting down. “Please, just calm down…”

And then everything poured out.

“Calm down? Calm down?! I gave — I put my trust in you and you immediately ran with it, breaking it twice and then broke everyone else’s! How am I supposed to talk to you like everything’s okay? I get that you don’t like me, that you don’t like Snape, but really? What do you not understand?!”

He was nodding his head, taking it, never once trying to defend himself. His head hung similar to a child being scolded, hands curled around himself.

“You must have never cared for them.”

Black went oddly still. “That's a bold lie and you know that.”

“Do I?” She ridiculed. “Do you want to know the funny part? I was starting to care for you. Apparently, you never did.”

“That’s not true.”

There, a flicker of rage. Finally a reaction other than pathetic regret and guilt. Something cold crept into his eyes, hardening and entirely stormy and silver, reminding her of last year where they constantly fought. But then, it was washed away with a blink.

“I was nothing but a toy to you!”

“Y/N...”

“You. Never. Cared. About —”

“Stop it! Of course I —”

“— Me. Or. The. Other —”

“— fucking cared —”

“— Marauders —” “ — about you!”

Her eyes stung with bitter unshed, frustrated tears and her throat burned, constricting together. Emotions she hadn’t taken a moment to consider hit her within seconds and everything was too overwhelming.

The material of her shirt suddenly turned itchy. Her skin was too tight and she felt herself rock back and forth in a way to calm down.

For a moment, she thought he wouldn’t answer as it fell silent but she struck a nerve.

“Stop saying that!” He shouted. Now not breaking her stare and took a step forward.

“You’re fucking selfish. You betrayed them.” A step forward.

“You only cared about yourself.” Black shook his head. Another step forward.

“If you ever cared about me — about anyone else you’ve hurt — you wouldn’t have done… that.” A step forward.

They were the closest they had been in months. Their breaths were laboured and ragged. Being that close to him raised all the hairs on her neck in a way she used to love but now hated herself for.

The very notion made her nauseous. Disgusted.

She missed him. Truly. It was such a profound hurt and longing that ran deeper than wanting a quick snog or shag. But that was her problem that she was going to have to hide, bury in an air-sealed chest and throw away.

He opened his mouth and he leant forward inappreciably. But whatever words he was about to spew, he stopped himself. She could feel his breath fan her face, both of their chest raised and fell rapidly.

They stayed like that for a while and she held back from crying, feeling her heart pound in her chest.

“Is there anything else you want to say?” He asked dejectedly.

Why did you have to be so stupid? We could’ve… you could’ve had everything.

Do you miss me?

Did you ever care, even a little?

“This time,” her voice was no louder than a rustle, “I mean it. I hate you. Truly.”

Lie.

Black gave her one last glance through heavy, desolate, half-lidded eyes, closing them shut. “Ti voglio bene.”

Her frown doubled, wondering if he mocked her. Why did he always do that?

“At least you’re consistent in one thing.”

She slipped out, her hand on the door and cracked it open, leaving him there.

“Being a fucking liar.”

She slammed the door shut with so much violence that it made a couple of bystanders passing by yelp and stare. The shattering of glass from within the closet echoed and it made her breathless.

She had to lean against the stone wall, her body buzzing and numb from the adrenaline.

Sometimes everything in her life seemed so… random. What if everything could have been avoided? One simple word, maybe if she said something different, or did something different, would the outcome have been better? Or worse?

What if she had two parents? What if she had been raised by a loving mother? Would she have been that hurt by his actions if opening up was less… impossible?

What ifs…

She stumbled her way to class mindlessly, horribly late. The floorboards creaked, cutting Slughorn off while she lurked in the doorway. The teacher’s head, along with everyone else in the room, snapped up.

Lily looked at her worriedly and concern was written in every inch of her face. James had a double-take and became alarmed while Marlene on the other side of the class looked around nervously.

“Sorry I’m late.”

“No worries, m’girl!” Slughorn smiled. “Please, take the seat next to… Severus! Now, I was saying, I have a small tradition I’d like to do every year with my students.”

Y/N didn’t even interject; too drained after what happened and sat by Snape.

“Can anyone tell me what this is?” The professor held up a tiny bottle. “Or can anyone tell me what Felix Felicis is?”

Lily raised her hand, casting a concerned gaze to her before answering. From the corner of her eye, she could see Barty and Avery, along with a few other students whispering to each other as Lily spoke; all of them forcing down a smile. Y/N vaguely sensed herself prickle.

“It’s known as Liquid Luck. As the name suggests, it makes the drinker lucky.”

“Beautiful answer! Quite right! Ten points for Gryffindor! Now, whoever brews the Draught of Living Death the closest will win this prize at the end of this lesson. Off you go!”

The class was scurrying off quickly while she made her way around leisurely. Snape’s sopophorous bean had been hitting her multiple times.

“Would you fucking —” she grabbed the bean with her hands and threw it at Snape and he hissed at. “Just take your knife blade and squeeze it down on the side with your dagger.”

Snape scoffed. “That’s not going to work you d —”

Snape shut up immediately as she crushed the bean with a sharp knife and flicked the juice into the cauldron.

“Now stop hitting me or I’ll pour your potion on the ground.”

Snape’s attention wasn’t on her, instead of trying to decipher her scribbles before taking her book away from his eyesight. She hit him with her book.

She completed the rest of the potion with ease. Snape was nearly done with his potion, she could tell he was on the right path before Slughorn sauntered around the classroom to observe the students. At James’ cauldron, he made no comment but instead helped stir his potion. Lily was given an approving nod, announcing to the class that she earned Gryffindor a few house points until making his way over to their table, peering into the cauldrons. At Snape’s concoction, he gave a bright smile and opened his mouth until he saw hers and a look of pure delight spread over him, his hands clapping together.

“Oho! Excellent! Miss L/N has done it! We have our winner!”

A small round of claps went around meanwhile James and Marlene cheered loudly, effectively embarrassing her.

“Show off,” Snape sneered. She ignored him.

Once the bell rang, Slughorn called her over to collect her vial of Liquid Luck. She slipped the bottle into her pocket for safekeeping.

But before she left, she stopped and spun around. “Professor Slughorn?”

“Yes?”

“I read in my Advanced Potions and Defence Against the Dark Arts textbook, but I found that there’s no Potion to help Werewolves. I was wondering if that’s still true? I know books can be outdated.”

Slughorn gave her a pensive look. “I think that’s a matter for Madam Pomfrey. Is there a reason why?”

“It’s just —” She made up a lie quickly. “I’m nervous about NEWTs and how I’ll do in my studies and it’s merely an interest.”

“Oh, my girl! You are excellent. By far one of the best students I’ve ever had. You don’t need to worry!” Slughorn cheered. Slughorn seemed genuine and she smiled at the praise. “And for your question, no. Sadly there isn’t.”

“At all?”

Slughorn thought for a while. “If I recall, there have been recent developments with stewed Mandrakes. It’s rumoured to help lycanthrope individuals ease their way back into the original human state.”

Y/N stored the newfound information in her head. She thanked him, turning to leave until calling out again. Slughorn twirled his head.

“I was wondering if I could practice more — like I said, I‘m nervous about my NEWTs.”

There wasn’t even a delay and Slughorn beamed. “Of course! As long as you clean up after yourself, you may come and go as you please. I’ll make sure to leave the doors open until curfew.

“Oh! I’m planning to host another Slugclub dinner soon, I expect you to be there?”

“... Of course, sir.”

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【 Next Chapter 】

Translations:

Tesoro mio = My treasure or 'honey'

Ti voglio bene = 'I love you' but its not like what you think. It's more of an unconditional and selfless love that means 'I want you to be well.' It places an emphasis on the tender and affectionate feelings you have for the other person. It's the safer option to say to your significant other if it's a very new relationship.

━━━━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━━━━

© gotkindabored 2021. Do not repost or modify

[siriusmydeer]

hey bestie, how about fluff prompt 10 with ron or harry?😁😁😁

the spiral of weather

ron weasley x reader

summary: you and ron share a rain kiss.

word count: 1.7k

warnings: self doubt, insecurity, swearing, weird teenager awkwardness, swearing, kissing, mentions of being sick

a/n: i hate this, thank u isa for inspo without u i would be crying rn, u can so tell this is rons pov by the amount of times i used the word ‘bloody’

ron he had a problem— not a problem, one might say. instead he had a nagging pronouncement that he couldn’t dismiss no matter how much he desired to do so in that halfwitted mind of his.

he had never felt the emotional wave of burn or passion in his lifetime as a teenager, that was till his eyes were strictly met with yours for the very first time. you’d think an eleven year old could possibly decipher feelings of yearning and endearment but, here we are years later.

books, movies, and even life normally if you were someones best friend the relation between the two parties happened to remain completely platonic. unless you were the cobalt-eyed, red-headed boy who happen to be the youngest son of the weasley family.

then that is in fact, not the case.

across the library you were irritatingly endeavouring cormac mclaggen with charms, attempting to explain how to flick your wand in the correct direction of a cheering charm. he took it upon himself to grab your hand and guide your hands together in the motion of his hand holding your hand, that was grasped on the wand.

classic bloody flirt.

ron was coerced persuaded, by hermione to finally catch up on the arithmancy homework that had been buried beneath his four poster messy bed stuffed in a sweaty quidditch bag. whilst hermione was attempting to explain the newest lesson from the class that ron could not be less bothered with.

his gaze could almost set a ring of fire into cormacs left sleeve on how strict his gaze was. the weather out earlier was ideally sunny, idyllic to hang out with your friends outside and possibly for a swim in the black lake. that was rons plan to pose towards you, maybe harry and hermione as well; but mostly you.

now the sky had ombré shades of washed-out dreary grey and depressing indigo. if the weather channel had existed in wizard culture it definitely would’ve called for overcast and a high percentage of downpour.

but when it came to romance hermione could be a bit numb in the head and decided to whisk him away from you, giving yourself a sweet opportunity for a free day that cormac just swooped right in an took it to his bloody advantage.

he was contemplating— he was contemplating so hard his brain could blow to bits if was possible. i mean he was a wizard after all, what wasn’t possible?

hermione clapped her smooth hands in front of his grimaced face, paying almost no mind to her peers that had glared in her direction from the disruption of noise.

“bloody hell, ‘mione! be anymore subtle would you?” rolling his eyes in the direction of the brunette who offered a ‘hermione scowl’ as ron and harry would say, in response.

“be anymore subtle would you?” she mocked. “you look like your about to go over there and snap his neck for godric’s sake! just talk to her, your so oblivious ronald.” she chastised, completely aware of his feelings towards you.

hermione knew? how would she know? who else knew... did you know? was he to obvious? should he have made a move? his brain could’ve been moving atleast a billion miles a minute on his overwhelming questions surrounding your possible reviprocations of feelings.

he looked at the smirking brunette for a moment, extremely bewildered but her bluntness. he raised a scarlet-brow in thought; if he was feeling gryffindor, reckless and impulsive or ron, some-what sensible and hidden.

he was a gryffindor after all.

getting up from his sear, the chair making a a smell reverberate at the sudden friction between the oak-wood floor and the cherry-coloured chair. clacking his shoes against said-oak floor creating a beeline directly to your sat figure with mclaggen.

your brows creased at the noise, diverting your eyes around the library and seeing the towering redhead walking directly over to you. your eyes widened for a moment, your (e/c) irises perfectly clear for viewing.

before you could even stutter out a word he got a grasp on your forearm, rapidly pulling you out of the library and into the somber courtyard. “merlin, christ, ron! give a girl a damn warning first, nearly gave me a heart attack!” your breath extremely rigid at his swift pace when guiding you away from peering eyes of both of your schoolmates.

“do you like mclaggen?” his voice was sputtered, almost like he said the question before he could even muster it as a thought.

if you’re eyes were wide before, now they looked like they were bulging straight from your eye sockets. “are you drunk? high? under the influence? potioned—“

“answer the question!”

“absolutely not, i would rather have offed myself than have feelings for someone else. plus i’m interested in someone else...” you trailed off in sentence, accidentally letting it slip that you in fact fancy someone.

paying no mind to the fact that you basically had confessed your feelings he nodded his head in a forward direction, offering a walk. you shrugged once before keeping in step with him around the courtyard.

“lavender brown, hmm...?” you offered, attempting to create a conversation with him; possibly making it more awkward.

why would he flip if you liked mclaggen? he was... alright looking, played quidditch, and an alright student. i mean there’s no big deal or anything of a sort.

“oh no, i fancy—“ drop.

oh.

oh?

drop.

it was raining.

“we should probably—“

“err, yeah....”

both of you peering up at the gloom sky above, small raindrops quickly pattering down on the both of you. you sped up your pace as well as ron attempting to get shelter in the downpour that was rapidly approaching as the both of you.

the continuous patter on the ground cause a few absent puddles into curvature of the grass surrounding the castle, causing small muddy hollow patch right beneath your left foot.

“oh!—“ you suddenly spoke, grabbing into the nearest surface your hand could grapple at; rons ashen coloured sweater.

his hands caught onto the curvature of your torso, holding you into a dip-position. one of your hands had grasped onto his bicep and the other on the bend of his muscular shoulder.

“well that was... quick?” clearing your throat awkwardly, looking into the sheen-cobalt irises of your best friend.

“i fancy you.” he spoke briskly, nonchalantly telling you how for the past five years he has been irrevocably besotted with you and essentially how he would die without not mowing if you reciprocated those feelings.

that was a bit melodramatic, but you understand the idea.

“you fan— wow that was fast, i didn’t even get a moment to like— think, maybe?”

oh my god, are you an idiot? i mean, who responded like that, like ever? the boy you had single handedly, pined for just admitted that and you say, ‘wow that was fast.’

he madly spun you onto your feet, both of you completely drenched from the recurrent downpour looking upon both teenagers. clothes anxiously sticking to your skin, and attempting to maneuver you hair behind your face.

“ron, why’d you— why would you want someone like me? i mean have you seen yourself, compared to me? ‘m just— ‘m not good enough.” you trailed between sentences, panting like you were out of immense breath but only overwhelmed trying to differentiate your thoughts.

maybe ron had drank to much butter beer, maybe he had an epiphany, but he was truly not taking no for an answer today and did all the work himself. he clasped both of your cheeks in his freckled palms, forcing your eyesight into his stare.

“have you gone absolutely mad? what do you mean, ‘i’m not good enough.’ i mean you’re one of the smartest people i know! and you’re always helping people, you don’t slap me across the face when i’m stupid most— stupid all the time! i mean i’m a bloody git and you still put up with me, i truly don’t know how, but you do! and y’know you make me want to be a better person and all that bloody crap, but y/n, you are worth it! so don’t tell me you’re not.”

the boy huffed in one sentence, trying to prove your worthiness not only to you but what was standing right in-front of you. not only just ron, but the way this would effect your relationship. after all that, even if you rejected him for his sake, the friendship would never be the same. could you take a risk? put it all on the table, for the first time in your life and possibly make something worth it?

you stood there frozen, but your eyes moved erratically to study his face. his pale ivory flesh, slightly down-turned pointy chin, full salmon-coloured lips. the study could go on, how you memorized every micro-detail of the boys face.

normally the scarlet-haired boy would’ve been the one in doubt; over himself, his peers, his schoolmates, his friends, and most-likely his family. but right now he didn’t have one single doubt in his mind, his only thought was wanting you.

you may not have been godric gryffindor himself, but you were impulsive on decisions, even the ones that you were petrified to make. so you kissed the boy, slotting his slightly chapped lips with your smooth strawberry tasting ones.

feeling the new and odd comforting taste of pumpkin juice, and spearmint bleed onto the curvature of your tastebuds. one of his hands taking a grasp at your hip, kissing you with all the vitality he had left. feeling the blearily daze of adrenaline scamper right through his veins, going immediately to his head.

he was completely, and hopelessly in love with you. the amount of intimacy he felt kissing you beneath a brewing storm was unmatched to anything or anyone else.

you pulled away for a moment, seeing how his lips tried to reattach to yours in such a quick paced moment. you snickered for a moment, the dread leaving your system second by second.

wanting to feel the eternal warmth and happiness the boy granted you, were you still a bit unsure, yes. but ron would spend his last dying breath proving himself to you.

“if we stay kissing in the rain, one of us will catch a cold.” your whisper was barely coherent over the boys pants, and the repetitive rain patter that beveled from the sky.

“i’ll take care of you.” he offered with a slanted smile, his vision bleary from admiration.

“‘course you will.”

of course he will.

taglist: @ronbrokemyheart @georgeswh0re @amourtentiaa @famdomhideout @hufflepogue

[keijislove]

Idiot: Ron Weasley x Reader

A/N: sup, im having my exams so im infrequent lmfao. Also, Weasley is MY king

'Alright darling, stay safe!' your mother pecked your forehead. 'And have fun!'

You had gotten an owl earlier that morning, from your friend and crush, Ronald Weasley, inviting you to spend the summer at the Burrow.

Since the War was finally over, you, Hermione, Ron, Harry, Neville, Luna and all the others had decided to repeat seventh year due to the earlier, unfavorable circumstances.

Stepping into the fireplace, you grabbed a fistful of Floo powder before speaking, 

'The Burrow!'

Green flames flashed around you as you suddenly found yourself in the Weasleys' fireplace.

Coughing, you staggered out, only to be met with a familiar red head repairing her torn textbook with Spellotape.

'Y/N!' Ginny said, shooting up from her spot to dust you off properly.

She then proceeded to squeeze you into a hug. 'You came!'

'Course I did.' you coughed again.

'MUM!' Ginny called. 'Y/N's HERE!'

In a few minutes, an elder woman with a kind face appeared in front of you.

'Y/N, darling!' Mrs Weasley hugged you. 'You must be tired, come on, up to your room. You can share with Ginny and Hermione. Go on!'

You nodded, already familiar with the layout of the house, having been there Merlin knows how many times.

As you proceeded to climb the stairs, you heard a crack as two identical boys appeared in front of you (A/N: yes, two. No Freds be dying in my fanfics).

'Can you please stop that?' you asked. 'You nearly gave me a heart attack!'

'Aww, we gave Y/N/N a heart attack!' George feigned shock.

You rolled your eyes.

'So, Y/N.' George continued.

'We've been thinking.' said Fred.

'About you.' said George.

'And your little problem.' said Fred.

'So we've decided.' said George.

'To help you with it.' finished Fred.

'Wait, wait, what?' you asked. 'What problem?'

'Oh, you know who.' George rolled his eyes.

'Voldemort?' you questioned. 'Isn't he dead?'

'Not him, you silly girl!' Fred spoke.

'Then who?' you asked.

'Won-Won.' they chorused.

You couldn't help but burst into laughter when they used the nickname Ron's ex-girlfriend had coined.

'And why, pray, is Won-Won a problem?' you giggled.

'Don't act like you aren't smitten with him.' George smirked.

'Yeah, we aren't idiots, mate.' said Fred. 'We listen, we watch, and we put it together.'

'Well I suggest you keep your theories to yourself.' you coolly said, stomping upstairs.

No sooner had you opened the door than Hermione had tackled you.

'Y/N!' she yelled. 'Merlin's sake, you're here! Did you meet Ron yet?'

'Hi Mione.' you smiled. 'No, um, I was looking for him... where is he?'

'Downstairs, in the garden.' she replied. 'He was wondering when you'd get here.'

Your cheeks flushed a little. 'Yeah, yeah, whatever.'

You ran downstairs and out the garden at top speed, accidentally bumping into a long-haired Weasley.

'Whoops, sorry Bill!' you apologised.

Bill laughed, 'It's fine, Y/N.'

You were suddenly attacked from both sides in a hug.

'Ouch, Harry, Ron, geroff me!' you squealed.

'I thought you weren't going to come!' Ron breathed.

'Yeah, he's been pacing all day.' Harry smirked causing Ron's ears to turn pink.

'Nose down, Harry.' he rolled his eyes, ears still red.

'Anyways.' you changed the subject. 'Now that there's no war and we have all the time in the world.'

'One month and a half.' George corrected.

'Yeah.' you waved off. 'Let's do something.'

'You're not hanging out with the girls?' Percy asked. 'Weren't they planning a sleepover or something?'

'Blegh.' you gagged. 'No thanks, I'd rather hang with you guys.'

Percy looked highly affronted at this blatant declaration, but didn't push it further.

'So we're playing Quidditch?' asked Charlie.

'There aren't enough people.' you pouted.

'That's okay, we can do like one beater and one chaser per team.' Harry shrugged.

'Okay.' you narrowly looked at him.

'Quidditch?' Ginny had strolled over to you. 'Can I play too?'

'No-' Ron began.

'Yes.' you firmly said.

'Well I suppose I'll be watching, then.' Hermione scowled.

'Bloody hell, how did you get here?' asked Ron, reminding you of your third year when both you and Hermione had used the time-turner to get to all your classes.

'I Apparated, Ronald.' Hermione was still sulking. 'Get on with it.'

'Alright.' said Bill. 'Fred, Y/N, Ron and Harry in one team. Fred as Beater, Y/N as Chaser, Harry as Seeker and Ron as Keeper.'

George smirked and began humming 'Weasley is our king' under his breath as Ron hurled a gnome at him.

'As for the rest of us.' Bill continued. 'Charlie, Seeker. George, Beater. I'll be  Keeper and Ginny can be Chaser.'

'If you must know.' Percy delicately said. 'I never liked Quidditch anyway.'

'We know Perce.' you grinned. 'That's why we're quiet.'

Percy scowled.

-----

The game was going well so far, your side was winning.

Well... you, Harry and Fred were anyway.

Ron made zigzags, swirls and loops but yet couldn't protect the goals.

'Wow, Ron.' Ginny remarked, throwing her next Quaffle in. 'I didn't think you would still stink at this.'

'It'd be better if he were paying attention to the game.' Harry grumbled.

'OI!' Fred yelled when Ginny aimed again. 'RON, STOP STARING AT Y/N AND PROTECT THE GOAL!'

'YEAH, WE ALL KNOW YOU FANCY HER, NOW STOP IT!' George added.

'Okay, stop it.' you snarled. 'You think this is funny, do you, joking about someone's feelings like that? Shame on you lot, honestly.'

'Hey, Y/N, they were joking.' Bill soothed.

'Save it.' you angrily threw your broom and left.

-----

You had been staring at the wall for quite sometime now.

A knock sounded on the door.

'Go away.' you called. 'Not in the mood.'

'Y/N?' asked Fred. 'Can I come in?'

'No.' you groaned, hearing the door click open.

'Mate, we were just joking.' George followed him.

'But still.' pressed Fred.

'We think.' continued George.

'That we should just ask you.' finished Fred.

'Can you stop doing that?' you asked. 'It's weird.'

'Do you or do you not fancy our brother.' they spoke together.

'Ugh.' you groaned. 'This again. FINE! Maybe I do, now what?'

'I KNEW IT!' Fred shouted. 'This is adorable.'

'And disgusting.' George made a face.

'If you tell anyone.' you warned. 'I'm cutting off your balls and feeding them to you.'

'Not a word, miss.' George grinned.

'Good.'

----

It was the last weekend before school, and all of you were partying at the Burrow.

Firewhiskey, Butterbeer, you name it, it was there.

After a particularly tipsy Fleur asked you to call her Patrick, you decided to leave and find the guys.

You bumped into a frantic redhead.

'Oh my god, Y/N I'm so sorry!' Fred guiltily said. 'I didn't mean, I swear!'

'What?' you asked.

'Well Freddie here might've told Ron your secret.' George nervously said.

'IT WAS THE FIREWHISKEY!' Fred moaned.

'WHAT?!' you screamed. 'No, no, NO!'

'And he might be looking for you right now, in the garden.' George guiltily added.

'No.' you moaned. 'I'm departing to death. Farewell, Weasleys.'

----

'So... hi.' you said when you reached the place where your crush stood.

'Y/N! Um, h-hey!' Ron awkwardly said. 'Um, someone might or might not have told me... you take a fancy to me?'

You fought the urge to scream and run. 'Erm... Well...'

'Is it true?' Ron cut off.

'Well, yes.' you admitted and looked down.

Ron didn't speak and your heart broke.

'Go on.' you shakily said, not daring to look up. 'Laugh. I dare you.'

When you looked up, Ron wasn't laughing.

Instead, he had a big grin plastered on his face.

'The bloody hell you smiling about?' you demanded.

'Y/N...' Ron began. 'You have absolutely no idea how long I've waited to hear that.'

'W-what?'

'Maybe I fancy you too?' Ron suggested.

Awkward silence.

'Wow, um.' you began. 'I s'pose we...'

'What do we do now?' asked Ron.'I guess... this is the part where we hug?'

'Yeah.' you nodded.

'Ow, Harry!' came Ginny's voice. 'Let me go, he needs to know!'

A second later, her head popped up from behind the shed.

'RON YOU IDIOT!' Ginny called.

'I THOUGHT YOU WERE SMARTER THAN THIS!' George yelled.

'RON, MATE, MUCH AS I LOVE YOU, YOU'RE BEING THICK!' called Harry.

'I'm sorry!' Hermione yelled. 'I told these idiots not to watch!'

'But zis iz so sweet!' Fleur cooed.

'Get it, mate!' Bill yelled.

'Proud of you, Ron!' called Charlie.

'No, he's being stupid.' Percy interjected.

'Yeah mate, for once, I agree with Percy.' said Fred. 'Kiss her you idiot!'

'You.' Ron muttered. 'All of you, what the bloody hell-'

'Oh shut up.' you muttered, grabbing his face before smashing your lips onto his.

When you parted, you both had stupid grins on your faces.

‘By the way, Fred.’ you called. ‘I’m still feeding your balls to you.’

[ditzydawn11]

Neville x reader fluff where they accidentally fall asleep together !!

study session

Neville Longbottom x Female Reader

requested!

warnings: none just fluff!

1290 words

When you and your best friend fall asleep together after studying, feelings only grow stronger

Look, you didn’t mean for it to happen but boy are you glad it did.

Neville Longbottom was your best friend in the entire world. You had first met when you were asked to escort Neville to the nurse when he had fainted during herbology from the Mandrake cry. You two instantly hit it off and you thanked Merlin every day that you got to call him your best friend. However, as you both grew older and were now in your 5th year, you couldn’t deny the fact that you had a major crush on the shy boy. 

“Neville!” You screamed as you ran down the corridor to catch up with him. “Hey y/n.” he said with an instant smile forming on his face because he was greeted by his favorite person in the entire world. He wrapped an arm around your shoulder and guided you down the hall with him. A year ago, Neville would have never been able to find the courage to do this simple gesture but recently both of you have found more confidence in yourself, and little physical displays of friendship, or affection, had become part of your normal routine. You leaned into his side and sighed “Sprout assigned a test on underwater grown plants for tomorrow and I could really use your help. Pleeeaaassseee.”Neville chuckled “of course y/n. But I have plans with Dean and Seamus in the afternoon. Could we do it after dinner in my dorm?” “Sure thing Nev!” you said and gave the hand on your shoulder a squeeze. “I’ve got transfiguration now but I’ll see you later. You’re the best!” you said as you separated and ran to your next class. 

“Would you gits straighten your sides of the room before dinner, y/n is coming over and I don’t want her to think we live in this dump,” Neville said while frantically cleaning his desk and bed. “Ooooh, are you going to finally tell  her that you are head over heels in love with her?” Dean laughed. “God no. She’s my best friend. She obviously doesn’t feel the same way and I can’t lose her when she rejects me and it becomes awkward.” Neville huffed while sitting down on his bed and putting his head in his hands. “Neville you are so oblivious, she has to like you, or else why would she hang around you all these years,” Seamus said. Neville gave him a look of confusion “I don’t know, maybe because she's my friend and enjoys my company?” he said, still stunned by Seamus’ words. “Whatever, y/n will be here after dinner so you two go occupy yourselves so we can study in peace.” Neville huffed while finishing straightening his bed up. “Whatever you say loverboy,” Dean said as he headed out the door to go to dinner.

“Thanks again, Nev. You have no idea how much this means to me,” you said while Neville escorted you up the stairs to his dorm. “Of course, y/n, you do the same for me,” he said while opening the door to his dorm. You two had a mutual agreement to help each other with homework and classes, specifically Neville helping you with Herbology and you helping him with Potions. 

After what seemed like days but was probably only a couple of hours, you finally had a good grasp of the concept and felt prepared enough for the test tomorrow. “Okay I just want to go over one more thing and then I think you’ll be good to go,” Neville said oblivious to your droopy eyes and the clock that read 11:30 pm on the wall. After his rambling about the differences between salt and freshwater plants, he finally stopped to get a breath of air when he saw that you were asleep with your head resting on the desk. ‘Um y/n?” he whispered but you didn’t budge. Neville didn’t know what to do but he would much rather get in trouble for having you up in his dorm than disturb an angel such as yourself. So he scooped you up bridal style and placed you in his bed, tucking you in. He stepped back feeling prideful in what he did but soon panicked when he realized that now he didn’t have anywhere to sleep. 

“I mean we sit next to each other, hug, and even share drinks so what harm is sleeping next to you, right?” he thought to himself. He changed in the bathroom into some pajamas and climbed into bed with you still keeping some sizable space between your bodies in the tiny twin bed. He turned over to look at you and admired your peaceful face and tranquility that exuded from your being. He must have fallen asleep that way because he doesn’t remember anything until he was startled awake but Dean and Seamus talking quite loudly. 

‘Hey, lovers! Are we interrupting something?” Dean laughed out. “What? What’s going o-” Neville was cut off when he soon realized that he was spooning y/n who was still sound asleep. He quickly pulled away which woke you up. “Where am I?” you said while rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. You sat up to Dean and Seamus staring at you and Neville looking mortified. “I’m so sorry y/n, I must have rolled over in my sleep. I swear I-” you cut him off “Neville it’s fine. We're best friends, I don’t mind.” you said with a chuckle trying to calm him down. The two other boys were looking down at you both and were laughing their heads off at everything unfolding before them. “Seamus, Dean, could you give us a second,” you asked. “Sure thing but breakfast is starting, don’t be late!” the Irish boy said as he left the room with his friend. 

“Sorry you fell asleep and I didn’t know what to do and I didn’t know where to sleep and I guess I just grabbed you while I was sleeping and-” you cut him off yet again “Neville! It's fine! Honestly that was probably the best sleep I got in ages. Thank you for looking after me. I’ll see you at breakfast,” you said as you gathered your stuff and began to head back to your dorm for a fresh change of clothes. However, before you left you ran back to Neville and gave him a kiss on the cheek. A kiss that was nothing like any of your previous “friendly” displays of affection. A kiss that had more than “just friends'' written behind it. 

Neville touched the spot on his cheek where your lips had just been and smiled with a dopey grin. “Wow.” is all he managed to say, still starstruck from everything that happened in the past 9 hours. 

That night Neville was actually disappointed that you weren’t there beside him. Nevertheless, he turned off his light and turned over to try and get some sleep. About half an hour went by and he was still wide awake thinking about you. But his thoughts were soon interrupted when his door creaked open and your small frame came into view in the moonlight. “Hi. I was hoping you wouldn’t mind sharing your bed for another night.” you squeaked out in the quiet room with bashfulness in your voice. Neville didn’t say a word but he scooted over and opened the comforter for you to climb inside. He tentatively put his arm around your waist as you shimmied backward into his chest. “Oh, I forgot to tell you that I aced my quiz!” you said trying to alleviate some of the tension in the air. Neville smiled and responded, “I knew you would.” 

[acnelli]

First Time Falling

This is my entry for the @hpqueerfest 2021. Thanks to the mods who hosted this! And a big thank you to my great beta-readers @nagemeikenu and @static-abyss who put up with my phone-writery (writing time is hard to come by these days).

This story was inspired by Prelude and Fugue by shes_gone, and it’s set in a world where Harry didn’t go to Hogwarts, but had been prepared for his destiny.

Pairing: Harry Potter/Ron Weasley Rating: T TW: strong language, mentions of war time, mentions of drug and alcohol consume Prompt: Falling in love for the first time as an adult (late 20’s-early 30’s) Summary: Harry Potter –Head-Auror and Savior of the Wizarding World– spontaneously asked out a cute redhead and it turned to so much more than he could have ever hoped for. 

You can also read this on AO3 and FFN.

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

Not bothering to knock, Ron Weasley marched into Hermione Granger’s office. The heavy mahogany door slammed against the wall, making Hermione jump up from her chair.

“Ron,” she shrieked as a bunch of paper fell off her desk. “What happened?”

Instead of providing his best friend with an explanation for his sudden intrusion, Ron paced back and forth. The panicked look in his eyes made Hermione assume the worst.

With one swift motion, Hermione stepped in front of the redhead, forcing him to stop his frantic pacing. “Ron, please talk to me,” she pleaded, taking his hand into hers. “What’s going on? Is someone hurt? Is your family okay?”

Hermione’s worried expression and the panic in her voice finally brought Ron to his senses. “No, don’t worry, Hermione,” he sighed as he closed her office door. “I’m sorry! But...do you have time for a quick cup of tea in the cafeteria?”

“As a matter of fact, I do. This report is giving me a headache and I need a break.”

Hermione grabbed her purse and gestured for Ron to lead the way.

“I swear, Ron, if you almost gave me a heart attack over something Quidditch related, I’ll hex you into next week and make your new Firebolt disappear forever,” Hermione added as they made their way down to the Ministry cafeteria.

Ron glanced over at the bushy-haired witch, suppressing a grin as he told her his distress was indeed about Quidditch. They grabbed their beverages and headed towards a free table. Gracing him with a dark look, Hermione gestured for Ron to finally tell her what’s going on.

“Harry Potter asked me out on a date!”

This statement caused Hermione’s drink to go down the wrong way, resulting in a violent coughing fit and her spitting out the tea.

“What?” she wheezed out between coughs, as Ron cleaned his face and shirt with his wand.

He waited patiently until Hermione recovered, both from the coughing fit and the shock. “See, even you don’t believe me,” Ron sighed, harshly rubbing his hands over his face, “I don’t blame you, though. I can’t believe it myself, after all.”

Finally being able to speak again, Hermione put her elbows on the small table and leaned forward, determined to not miss a single thing about this story. “Spill! How? When? Where? And don’t you dare to leave out even the smallest detail.”

Ron shook his head, still in disbelief about what had happened to him just twenty minutes ago. Not being able to wrap his head around it, he decided to tell Hermione today’s events from beginning to end.

“Today, Robertson sent me a memo to come to his office to discuss the ridiculous complaints about the Tornados/Harpies game last week,” Ron started and couldn’t help rolling his eyes about the things he had to put up with at work sometimes. “So, I went there, gave him my report about the match and a brief overview. Thank Merlin, he only asked his usual useless questions about referee bribery claims. I was ready to launch into a whole speech but he suddenly dismissed me and told me to write up a statement for the press.

“I was just on my way back to my office when I met Seamus. The fucking wanker had the nerve to claim the next Cannons match for himself. I know he did that just to spite me so, naturally, I gave him an ear full about it as we waited for the lift. We only noticed Harry Potter standing right behind us when we got inside the lift. I probably sounded like an idiot but Seamus and I kept the conversation up because I always get second-hand embarrassment when people stop talking if Potter walks by or joins the lift.”

Hermione patiently listened to his ramblings, restraining herself from telling him to get to the point already.

Ron sipped on his tea and shook his head. “You know what? I read too much into this. Just realised that I’m acting exactly as everyone else does. What’s the big deal? Just a bloke who wants to have a pint after work.”

Hermione stared at Ron, expecting him to go on with his story, but he just kept sipping his tea.

“Ron!”

“What?”

“How did he ask you out?” She accidentally raised her voice but Hermione was finally losing her patience with him.

“I told you, he most likely-”

“Just tell me the damn story, already!” Hermione snapped, blushing a little when she noticed the people on the other tables giving her funny looks.

“Alright,” Ron said, raising an eyebrow at her. “Calm down, barmy woman.”

“You're the one marching into my office like a lunatic. Spill it! Now!”

With a heavy sigh, Ron continued with his story, curling his hands around the tea mug to keep from fidgeting.

“Seamus had already gotten off at another level, so it was just me and Potter in there. I tried to avoid the awkward silence, so I asked him if he followed Quidditch and was going to listen to or even watch the Tornados match tonight. He said that he does follow Quidditch and that he intended to listen to the match at home but if I'd be up to it, we could listen to it at this new pub that just opened in Diagon. He totally caught me by surprise, but I must've agreed because he told me he'll meet me at the fireplaces at 5. Then he left the lift. Then I freaked out and came to your office.”

Ron marked the end of his story by taking another sip of his tea before he defiantly crossed his arms in front of him.

“Jesus, Harry Potter actually asked you out! Oh my God!” Hermione almost squealed, grasping one of Ron's arms.

“Nah! I don't think so anymore. I bet he just wanted to have a pint and was only being polite when he asked me to come along,” Ron said. “Who'd ask someone out like that anyway?”

“Someone looking for a partner?”

“Yeah, but think about it, Hermione. Why would he ask me out? The guy is not only fucking famous, he's also devilishly handsome. He could have anyone he wanted.”

“So?”

Ron looked at Hermione as though she'd just declared the desire to live as a chicken.

“So? So, why would someone ask me out while on a random stroll through the Ministry? Who'd think ‘Oh, that freakishly tall ginger with more freckles than skin looks kinda awkwardly cute. Let's try to get a leg over?'"

“I dated you,” Hermione interjected.

“You don't count.”

“Well, thank you!” Her sarcasm was all but ignored by Ron.

“I just know I'll embarrass myself tonight,” Ron insisted, looking quite unhappy. “Let's go back to work. I still have to write that useless report.”

“Devilishly handsome, hm?”

“Shut up!”

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

Harry didn't know what had possessed him to ask the cute ginger out for a pint.

Maybe it had been the Prophet article speculating for the umpteenth time about when the Savior of the Wizarding World would finally settle down and make some black-haired, green-eyed babies. Rita Skeeter had many ideas about what worthy witch could conquer the heart of Harry Potter. All things considered, the article had probably not been the worst thing written about him so far.

Sometimes he wondered if he should've taken Sirius’ advice to feed the press and public meaningless details of his life. It wouldn't stop the constant speculations and made-up affairs, but it probably would reduce the paparazzi following him around, the crazy fans sending him love letters and maybe, they would find something more newsworthy than where Harry Potter bought his toilet paper.

But he hated the fact that people demanded this from him. He was 29 now, and while the great hype about him was over, he still seemed to be interesting enough to write about, even over a decade after his defeat of Voldemort.

He knew the majority of the Wizarding World was sincerely grateful for what he'd done. There were so many parents thanking him for the simple fact that they're still alive and able to see their children grow up.

It reminded him that it was all worth it. The sacrifices, the nearly friendless childhood, his secret life away from the public, the growing up with the knowledge that he might not live long enough to celebrate his 17th birthday. All of that had resulted in ending Voldemort once and for all.

When he'd destroyed the Dark Lord and his Horcruxes though, Harry’s hope of finally living a normal life got crushed soon after. In the post-war world, it had been next to impossible to lead a life like everyone else. Because of his childhood and his training by Alastor ‘Mad Eye’ Moody himself, he learned not to trust easily. And since occasions to make friends or interact with strangers had been few and far between, he never really learned what to look for in a friend.

He was well aware that he was complaining about a comfortable life. His parents had left him a respectable amount of gold, and Sirius bought him a flat in London after he graduated from Auror Academy. Maybe he'd gotten this job because of his fame and reputation, but he knew he deserved the position as Head Auror. There was hardly anyone with the same amount of training and experience he brought to the table, and he was under the impression the people working for him did genuinely like him as a boss. Two of them he even considered friends after all these years.

Aside from the two friends at work he also had his family. He had Sirius, Remus, Andromeda, Tonks and his godson, Teddy. He wasn't alone by any means, but he'd never met someone he could possibly fall in love with. Hell, aside from one of Tonks’ old friends from school and her father's attempts to set him up with several of his countless nieces—and later nephews when Harry told his family girls didn't do it for him—he'd never even dated. Toby—a fellow student from elementary school and the only friend his age—dragged him to Muggle pubs and clubs, resulting in the occasional snog or even a shag with a stranger. Needless to say, his first time hadn't exactly been romance novel material and it sure wasn't something he liked to think about. Sometimes, Harry feared that he would never fall in love, that he wasn't capable of developing those feelings for another person.

Those unpleasant thoughts combined with the Rita Skeeter article may have been the result of his sudden impulse to just go for it and ask the redhead out. But it also could have been the brilliant blue eyes, the kind, shy smile and the lean shoulders. Harry was sure, though, that the main reason for it had been the fact that this man hadn't treated him like a Messiah. It had just been an easy conversation, even if it had been only two minutes.

Harry hoped it would remain that way when they watched the game later. In fact, he could just brush it off as a friendly meeting with a fellow Ministry worker if Cute Ginger wasn't interested in anything more.

But when he thought about the redhead’s lopsided grin, Harry felt a foreign flutter in his stomach and he couldn't help but hope for more, even if it was just another visit to the pub.

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

In the 30 years of Ron Weasley’s existence, he'd never been on time for something not work-related. Today, though, he was almost ten minutes early as he waited by the fireplaces for Harry Potter.

Again, he felt rather pathetic. For a hot second, he considered waiting in a nearby bathroom to pass the time, pretending to get to their meeting place just in time. But then he reminded himself that he wasn’t a petty teenager anymore, and even if Potter found it pathetic, Ron didn’t expect a repeat of tonight, anyway.

He decided to just treat this like a meet-up with Dean and Seamus every other Thursday after work. Just two guys, enjoying a couple of pints together, talking about Quidditch. Nothing special. Nothing to freak out over.

The atrium was busy as ever but he spotted Potter right away when the Head-Auror stepped out of the lift and made his way towards the fireplaces. He still wore his magenta work robes and Ron couldn't help but notice how sexy they looked on him.

“Hi!” Potter greeted Ron, smiling somewhat shyly. “Ready for some beer and Quidditch?”

“Sure! But I forgot to introduce myself earlier, so I figured I'd do that now,” Ron said, giving the dark haired man a smile in return, as he offered his hand for a proper introduction. “I'm Ron. Ron Weasley.”

“I'm Harry.”

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

“No way! How did he get out of there?”

Harry barked out a laugh at Ron's tale of a night out with Seamus and Dean. His outburst was loud enough for the other guests of the pub to look in their direction. Ron found it amusing how a simple change into Muggle clothes, different glasses, and a slightly lighter hair colour resulted in no one recognizing the Boy-Who-Lived.

“Since it was a Muggle police station, Seamus had to spend the night there. Statute of Secrecy, and all. We picked him up the next morning and filled him in on what he'd done the night before, including showing everyone his pale arse.” Ron grinned deviously at the memory. “I invented some things for good measure. Unfortunately, Dean is too good for this world and told him a few hours later that I was taking the mickey.”

Harry shook his head, chuckling. “That reminds me of Remus searching the whole of London for Sirius, only to find him several hours later in a hidden spot on the roof. He was gazing at the stars and totally stoned. Combined with Firewhiskey, he didn't remember a single thing from that night.”

“Sirius?” Ron looked quite interested at the mention of his Godfather’s name. “Sirius, as in Sirius Black?”

“Yes. He was my Dad’s best friend. And he's my Godfather.”

“I'm just asking because I'm related to the Blacks. My grandfather married Cedrella Black.”

“Yes, I recognize the name. Her face got blasted off the family tree,” Harry said, and at Ron's raised eyebrow quickly added, “Sirius’ mother blasted everyone off that tree who didn't uphold the Black family's motto ‘Toujours pur’. So, Cedrella must have gone against the high and mighty Black Pureblood tradition.”

“Well,” Ron said, taking a swig of his beer, “she married a Weasley. I'm sure that alone was reason enough to disown her. The Weasleys have been notorious blood traitors since forever.”

“Sounds like your grandmother had good taste in men if you ask me.”

Harry winked at Ron, and the redhead felt the burning blush creeping up his neck.

Ron was once again amazed at how little time it had taken him to lose his nervousness. But Harry Potter made it very easy for him. Harry was confident, yet humble and polite. His humor didn't have Ron's sarcastic edge, but the redhead found Harry delightfully witty with a good amount of sass.

Ron didn't know what he expected but it was undeniable how easy it was to talk to Harry. He could only hope the raven-haired man enjoyed this just as much as he did. Harry laughed at his jokes and seemed genuinely interested in Ron's more-than-mundane life.

As much as Ron tried to see this as a meeting with a good friend, he couldn't help the warm feeling in his chest every time Harry smiled at him or his leg accidentally bumped against Ron's. And if the alcohol hadn't gone to his head already, making him imagine things, Harry's eyes kept flitting down to Ron's lips.

When the woman behind the bar announced the final round, they decided to call it a night since it was one of Harry's work Saturdays tomorrow.

As they ventured out of the crowded pub and into the cool night air, Ron was disappointed about the evening coming to an end. Time had flown and he was sure they could've talked for several more hours.

“Would you mind if I walk you home?” Harry asked just as Ron wanted to wish him a good night.

Ron nodded, not being able to suppress his smile as Harry obviously remembered him mentioning that he only lived a few blocks away.

They kept their pace slow and walked a little closer to each other than necessary, their hands bumping against one another. Every touch sent a jolt through Ron's body and he wanted nothing more than to take Harry's hand.

Eventually, they reached their destination. During the entire walk home Ron had gathered all of his Gryffindor courage to ask Harry out, this time for an official date.

“I- um,” Ron started, rubbing one hand against the back of his neck to ease his nerves. “I really enjoyed this evening and I was wondering...Maybe I got this all wrong, but you seem interested, and well, I'm interested too. And if you're not, that's totally fine. But...caniseeyouagain?”

And before Ron's face had the time to go completely crimson, he got his answer as Harry took his hand to pull him close, leaned up and kissed him.

Harry pulled back from Ron's lips, his stunning, green eyes slightly darker than usual and holding a hopeful glint.

Ron didn't give himself the chance to overthink as he put his hand on the back of Harry's neck and kissed him again. A deep groan escaped him when Harry licked at Ron's bottom lip and Harry took the opportunity to slip his tongue inside.

Ron was positive that he'd never experienced something more incredible than kissing Harry Potter. The only things he was capable of paying attention to were Harry and the wild thumping of his heart. And while it was exhilarating and new and positively made him weak in the knees, it also felt a lot like coming home.

Having lost all sense of time, Ron couldn't tell if they'd kissed for a minute or several hours when they broke apart. Harry's hands still gripped his shirt and Ron let his own hands glide from Harry's dark hair down over strong, well-defined shoulders to finally rest at his hips.

Both of them tried to catch their breath and Harry, who finally let go of Ron's shirt to put his arms around him, smiled up at Ron almost shyly.

“Yes, you can see me again,” Harry said, grinning.”What are your plans for tomorrow night?”

“Well,” Ron pretended to think about it for a second, “I thought I'd do this.”

And with that, he leaned in to kiss Harry again.

“I think that's a brilliant idea.”

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

Just as he turned off the radio and grabbed his coat from the rag beside the door, a loud knock sounded through Harry's now quiet flat.

“Ten minutes early. Eager, aren't we?” Harry said as he opened the door for a tall ginger with a picnic basket in one hand and a broom in the other.

“Says the one waiting right beside the door like a good dog.”

Ron shoved his way inside, putting down the basket and broom before pulling Harry into his arms.

“Happy Birthday,” Ron murmured against the other man's lips. “And I thought I was supposed to give you a present, not the other way around?”

Harry pulled back a little, apparently confused. Ron grinned at him and squeezed Harry's arse. “Thanks for wearing my favourite pants today.”

Chuckling, Harry pointed at the broom Ron had brought with him. “No way I'll fly on a broom in these. Good thing I also packed my joggers.”

Ron hadn't told him where they were going for Harry's Birthday. He'd just instructed Harry to be ready at 9 in the morning, so they'd be back in time for dinner at Grimmauld Place with Harry's family.

Only two months had passed since their first kiss, but Harry already felt as though he'd known Ron for much longer. Every kiss, every touch, all the teasing and banter, and late night talks felt so completely natural, yet blissfully exciting.

“Come on, grab your broom. We're on a tight schedule.”

Ron winked at him and before Harry knew it, they were standing in the middle of a giant Quidditch pitch.

There wasn't a single soul besides them, but Harry immediately recognized the giant Hogwarts House banners from his family's keepsakes of their school years. Aside from that fateful day when he'd fought Voldemort on those grounds, he'd never visited the school. Not before, not after.

Harry tried to swallow down the lump in his throat. The surprise must be the result of one of their late night talks, when Harry confessed that his deepest desire while growing up had been to go to Hogwarts.

“Are we allowed to be here or do I need to arrest you for breaking into school grounds?”

Arms wrapped around him from behind and Harry could feel Ron smiling against the back of his head. “I wouldn't be opposed to playing the big bad Auror and the naughty Suspect later, but this is actually 100% legal. Having contacts with important Quidditch officials has its perks sometimes. And my annual chess game against McGonagall helped too, I suppose.”

“Okay then,” Harry said, lifting one of Ron's hands to his mouth to brush his lips against his knuckles. “Fill me in on that plan of yours.”

Ron let go of him and reached for their brooms, tossing one of them at Harry. “I thought we'd fly over the grounds first, so I can show you everything from above. The castle looks fucking amazing from up there and the Great Lake is a sight to die for when the water reflects the sun.”

Ron mounted his broom and flew in slow circles around Harry as he continued to talk. “I hope you don't mind that I invited your family for dinner. But I thought we could all show you the castle, introduce you to our favourite spots and secret places. Andromeda can show us the Slytherin common room. I've never been there myself. I'll show you the kitchen first. That's where I'll cook dinner later while the others show you around.”

Jumping down from his broom, Ron looked at Harry with a mixture of excitement and reluctance as he rubbed the back of his neck. It was a telltale sign of the redhead being nervous, Harry had learned in the last weeks.

“So, I thought this to be fitting for a 30th Birthday. I wasn't sure what to get you that you don't already have, and I reckoned this might be fun.”

Harry didn't know what to say and his silence only made Ron doubt his plan more. It always baffled Harry how Ron didn't realize how wonderful he was. He wished Ron could see himself through Harry's eyes.

Right at that moment, as Harry looked into Ron's blue eyes, it hit him. In fact, he knew he'd been harbouring these feelings inside him for weeks now, but only now he could see it with shining clarity.

He was falling in love.

The feeling was new, something he'd never experienced, but still he recognized it for what it was.

 Love.

***

[sapphicwhxre]

nemesis

♥︎ pairing: pansy parkinson x fem!reader, past draco malfoy x reader and draco malfoy x pansy parkinson

♥︎ summary: you reconnect with the girl that draco malfoy cheated on you with at hogwarts, and realise you have more in common than you thought ─ including the belief that the other knew they were the other girl.

♥︎ warnings: past cheating, asshole draco, arguing, use of the word slut, swearing, slut shaming, bar/alcohol, enemies to lovers

♥︎ a/n: we’re acknowledging that the title isn’t nemesis it’s nemesis but how taylor swift says it in long story short 💅🏼 also just yay ‘cause idk if anyone remembers since i shitpost so often but i’ve wanted to write this forever and i finally did it!!

you have got to be fucking kidding me.

that was your first thought when you saw her.

today was horrible. troubles everywhere you went and you thought you’d be safe in your favourite coffee shop. well, you were wrong. in line, there stood pansy parkinson, the slytherin princess herself.

pretty, put together, pansy fucking parkinson. the girl your highschool love ─ or so you’d thought ─ had cheated on you with for a year. you were over draco, truly, and hoped he’d matured after the war but to see the reason for all his lies to you left a stinging, bitter taste in your mouth.

you’d finish your coffee and be on your way, simple. there was no reason to acknowledge her or remember the smug look on her face as she kissed him, on one of the many days he stood you up. why torture yourself by remembering the glint of happiness in his eyes turning into one of panic when he saw you watching? you hadn’t cried that hard in years and weren’t planning on it. not over a stupid high school nemesis, you're better than that.

downing the hot liquid as fast as you could, you gathered your things and walked straight for the exit, not daring to glance at her. almost there, just a few more steps. but of course, the universe could never let you catch a break. the ladies’ restroom door flew open only an inch away from you and you were now face to face with pansy parkinson. shit.

as if in shock or relaying every dirty memory about the other, you stood in silence for a moment. “i didn’t know you lived around here,” pansy finally broke the ice. she swallowed after unleashing her hissing tone on you, visibly thinking hard about merlin knows what. “away from it all, i mean.”

nodding, you forced out a smile, determined not to return her clear irritation at seeing you. maybe it was childish to hold onto the past. “i do,” you agreed. “i’m more surprised that hogwarts’s resident pureblood princess is living in the muggle world, especially going to places like a cheap, shitty coffee shop.” pent up venom hit the both of you and you instantly regretted what you’d said, ruining the civil demeanor you’d hoped to keep.

the pursed-lipped scowl you’d grown so used to seeing in the halls during your school years met you and pansy crossed her arms, standing up tall. “things change, l/n,” she spat, omitting any details she’d considered giving away. “what about you? you’re here too, couldn’t find another girl’s boyfriend to sleep with?”

here you were just like old times, bickering and hissing petty insults at the other. you narrowed your eyes and scoffed, “isn’t that your area of expertise, parkinson? being so pretty and perfect that you just can’t help going and wrecking a good relationship?”

pansy looked deeply unsettled and upset. she raised her voice so much that any louder and she’d be causing a scene. “what are you on about?” pansy all but yelled. “you were the side chick! draco loved me until you went and started to spread your legs for him!”

you blinked at her, processing her words. there was no way, no way that she thought you were the other girl. she was the slut that fucked everything up, not you.

then it hit you. neither of you were to blame. “fucking draco malfoy.” you sighed, de-escalating suddenly. your eyes flickered up to pansy’s apologetically. “he lied to both of us, didn’t he?”

pansy stared at you blanky before responding, much more softly than before. “you... you mean you didn’t know he was seeing me?” she asked, curiously. you shook your head no and pansy quieted for a moment. “i didn’t know about you either, l/n, honest,” pansy said.

maybe it was the tender sincerity you hadn’t known she was capable of but without knowing what came over you, you sat down at the table beside you and gestured an invitation. “do you maybe want to talk? try to put this behind us?” eyes widening, pansy didn’t answer. she did, however, take a hesitant seat across from you and gaze at you oddly.

“the things i said were awfully petty, uncivilized, and immature. i'm sorry,” you hurried out an apology and added, “today and when we were in school.” something about the situation filled you with so much. anger that you’d blamed the girl who was a victim just like you instead of the abuser. sympathy and sadness for how she was feeling since you’d spent so many nights with your face buried in your pillow and feeling the exact same thing.

pansy smiled surprisingly warmly and exhaled deeply. “i’m...” she seemed to struggle with finding the right words. “i’m sorry too. all this time, i never even stopped to consider that you were hurt too.” you felt the same way, all of the hatred you had for pansy parkinson melting away. she was just a girl who, like you, trusted the wrong boy. no one deserved to be punished for that. yet you’d inflicted your hurt on the other for years. “draco’s a fucking dick.”

slightly caught off guard by her shift in demeanor, you laughed ─ to her surprise. “yeah, draco is a fucking dick. there’s a bar just a few blocks from here, care to let me buy you a drink?” you proposed. “it’s the least i can do after thinking you were a homewrecker for the past almost decade.”

“it’s only noon,” she objected and you raised your eyebrows. pansy looked to her lap, allowing herself a laugh that sounded dangerously close to a pleased giggle. “i’d like that.” you helped her with her things and for an unapparent reason, you noticed that her nose crinkled when she laughed and couldn’t help but think she looked awfully pretty. for the first time, you noticed pansy's beauty in a kind way, not one filled with jealousy.

on the way to and eventually inside of the bar, you and pansy conversed shockingly easily. you found many things in common. you had the same favourite hobbies, made fun of the lines that draco had disgustingly used on the both of you, and even ordered the same drink. you and pansy acted as if you’d always been best friends. you clicked so well that it was hard to believe you’d ever hated each other.

“y/n, you’re kidding, that was you?” pansy snorted with laughter, on the edge of her seat at one of your stories you were sharing. the use of your first name sounded like honey on her tongue and the feeling in your chest told you it was something you could get used to. “blaise and i were laughing for weeks, how on earth did you manage to not get caught?” she propped up on her elbows and listened intently.

“it’s a secret, pansy,” you rolled your eyes playfully, fondly recalling the memory you’d shared of you and hermione accidentally filling dumbledore’s study with bubbles that dyed anything they touched. you hadn’t followed the witch’s instructions and absolutely refused to let her turn you two in. who knew it’d make for a great conversation piece all these years later?

“oh, you’ll tell me one day,” she sighed. one day. you had to say, despite having butted heads at the beginning of your encounter... you got along incredibly with pansy. you could genuinely say that you were elated to hear her say ‘one day’ as if it was fact that you’d see each other again.

laughter dying down, you grinned at pansy and took her hand. the back of your mind told you that you’d only been friends for a few hours and that physical affection should be off the table. but something about pansy made the unfamiliarity not matter.

“i never thought i’d find you so wonderful,” you admitted. “makes me think we should have dated each other instead of that blonde ferret prat back in hogwarts.”

pansy didn’t laugh at your half-joke, instead taking the hand you’d extended in both of hers. “we could always start now, since said blonde is out of the picture.” briefly taken aback by her boldness, you returned her glossed smirk and felt a flutter in your chest. you turned and sprawled your number out on a nearby napkin, handing it to her.

“i do have to get going. but it’s a date then, parkinson.”

“i’ll see you then, l/n.”

and in the fateful turn of events you never would have expected at the start of that already terrible day, you found yourself unbelievably excited to see pansy again.

•──♥︎