#Minerva is A LOT but she *can* be warm... in small amounts and in a reserved sort of way.

[charmfamily]

(SEMI) CHARMED KIND of LIFE EPISODE 0: PILOT, PART IV.V

[adventures-of-the-creeping-bam]

NEVER SPLIT THE PARTY: THE ADVENTURES OF THE CREEPING BAM,  BOOK THREE: WARMER - CHAPTER 3

If you’re new to the story, please go check out Book 1 first …

Book 3 Chapter 1 is here …

MPORTANT:  Please note this story includes content that may be considered mature, such as moderate battle violence, some strong language and occasional mild sexual scenes.

If you want to support my writing, feel free to swing by my Patreon or Ko-fi.

CHAPTER THREE:  GAEL

When I wake up I find the sunlight streaking through the small, slender windows set high up into the walls of this little room is bright, warm and clean, and spilling through at a particularly high angle, telling me I’ve managed to sleep in.  I roll over slowly, stretching as much as space will allow, bringing my arms up over my head so I can lace my fingers together and let my shoulders flex a bit.  While I’m doing this I straighten out my legs and point my toes like those ballet dancers we saw that time my father took me to the Opera House in Bavat.  All the time I’m arching my back, and I can’t help letting a contented little purr escape as I smile.  At least for a few moments I can forget the awful things that happened a few days ago, and the unpleasant aftermath I’ve been dealing with since.  But now I remember and I slump down slack on the mattress again, and as I bring my arms back under the blankets, comforter and throw I pull it all right up to just over my chin and start to bury myself underneath all this warm, cosy fabric again.  Trying to claw back a little of that ignorant contentedness I manage to wake up with.

Then I hear a vague, slightly whiney snuffle from the other side of the bed and the body I’ve been sharing the bed with for the last three days stirs.  I carefully shift myself so I can roll over onto my other side without disturbing her, and let go a little sigh as I wait for Shay to fully emerge from her lengthy slumber.

One last little shift and she finally slumps over onto her side facing me, and for a long moment she just lies there, looking surprisingly serene.  I don’t do anything, I don’t want to disturb her, when she finally wakes up I want it to be on her own terms, in her own time, and I can sense that’s now pretty imminent.  So I just wait, and while I do it, I try to enjoy what’s left of this comfortable lazy morning.

That first night back … Minerva, that was … it was … horrible.  When I ran to check on Kesla and found her laid out, face down in the mud with barely enough clear for her not to just drown right away, that was bad, but while she was really badly beaten up she was stable.  I was fully prepared to help her until she mentioned Shay, telling me how badly she was hurt, and … I owe her.  She saved my life, up there in the mountains in the Norther Reaches, after Ashsong ran his fancy enchanted sword through me and I died, Shay sacrificed a substantial amount of her own lifeforce to help Krakka bring me back from the unknowable darkness of … whatever comes next.  I didn’t even think about what I was doing, I just ran straight to her.

It was … gods, there was a lot of blood.  The wound was in her abdomen, Shay was clutching tight but with shaking hands and there was blood coming through her fingers all the same, half of her shirt was completely saturated with it despite the torrential rain.  She was so pale, she might have been sweating too but there was no way to tell with the weather, and her jaw was clenched tighter than I’d ever seen it before, her breath coming fast and hard through her nose as her eyes were narrowed against the pain.  She was still lucid, but … she was hurt, clearly, she was in a spectacular amount of pain, but worse, she knew this was bad.  I don’t know a whole lot about the human body, but I’ve learned enough in my time to know that a stomach wound like this one … even with quick care, she was likely to die.

So I dropped on my knees right in the mud, gripped my staff tight in one hand while I put my other arm under Shay’s back to shift her up into a shallow sitting position, pressing her close to me even as she spat and cursed and squirmed at the fresh pain from the movement … and I spoke the incantation to port us both back to the Temple of Minerva in the Gods’ Round.  Suddenly we went from the constant soaking pelt of torrential rain to the sudden emptiness of still air, the subtle warmth and cleanliness and calm, collected quiet of the clean white and silver expanse of the main entrance vestibule, and I just started screaming.  Over and over, howling for help at the top of my lungs while I cradled my sodden, bloody, shaking friend close to me, my staff long forgotten on the suddenly rain-and-blood splashed floor beside me.

Help came quickly, the temple staff are nothing if not efficient, even in the growing evening, and I guess I wasn’t really surprised to see Shul Mivzida, the half-hob wizard, at the head of the group that rushed to our aid.  No matter where she was in the temple, I imagine she just ported straight to wherever she homed in on my cries for help, I suspect it’s just the way she’s made.  She has to help, she can’t stop herself.  When she stepped into view and saw us her ubiquitous little frown tightened a touch and she set her jaw while she clenched her little fists at her sides and stalked over.  One quick, cursory look at Shay, not even needing to examine the wound, clearly told her everything she needed to know, because she immediately started barking orders to the gathering attendants and clerics.  Hustling like my friend’s life depended on it, which of course it did.

Ultimately the most expedient course of action was deduced and Shul just dispatched most of those attending to us off before bringing two of the clerics along with her to Shay’s side before making them both lay hands on my back while she gripped Shay’s shoulder.  Then she ported us all straight into the infirmary and immediately made the three of us manhandle Shay, once again screaming and squirming from the disturbance, onto the nearest care bed.  Then she finally set about her examination.

I refused to leave her side the whole time.  It took them five hours to sufficiently repair the damage inflicted by what was clearly a nasty, brutish weapon, not only to the flesh in her belly but, far more worrying, her intestines beneath, which had indeed been ripped open, just as Shul feared.  To her educated and magically enhanced eye, the infection was already setting into her blood, the slow, horribly painful death I knew my friend dreaded, and that was the reason for the intensity of their subsequent healing work.  Shul tried to usher me away from her side, but I flat refused, I think I even screamed at her, I can’t believe how angry I got all of a sudden at the very suggestion.

No, I just stayed where I was, gripping her hand tight enough a small part of me feared I might break it but I couldn’t let go.  Just willing my help to her as two of Minerva’s clerics poured all of their goddess’ blessings they could into my friend, while a third cleric worked her own healing magic upon the extensive wound itself.  All while Shul concentrated on using her own magic to draw out the infection before it could take root too deep and make everything they were doing tragically pointless …

When Tulen arrived with Art shortly after I’ll admit I barely even noticed.  I didn’t even learn he’d been so badly hurt until the next morning, and when I heard I instantly hated myself for being so bullheadedly focused on Shay.  I didn’t really acknowledge anything outside this tightly focused operation until Kesla finally came hobbling in an hour after the mending of the wound was finally done, dropping into a chair nearby with such pained exhaustion that I actually took notice.  We just looked at one another for a long time, I couldn’t begin to work out how long we watched each other before she finally managed to find the words and the energy to speak.

“How … how bad is it?”  Her voice was so painfully quiet, it hurt my heart a little to hear it.

“It’s bad.  Really, really bad.  We still don’t even know for sure that this will work.”

“Well it better.  After what we just went through it fucking better.”  There was no venom in her words, not even really any anger at all, she said it with an almost entirely flat tone that spoke volumes about just how tired and fundamentally broken she was in that moment.  And that was all she said on the matter.  For the rest of the night she just sat in that chair, watching them tend to Art as she gripped her own wounded ribs, keeping up the vigil just like I did.

Sometime in the small hours of the following day the healing spells were finally completed and Shul assured us the worst of the infection had been beaten back, but it was going to be a while before she was right again.  Over the next day, after we’d moved Shay into this room in the temple’s dormitories to recover, Shul repeatedly worked her spell to fight off the rest of the infection.  At first she was just preventing it from springing back up and taking root again, then finally she burned it out of her entirely, and then it was done.  After that it was just a matter of letting her sleep and waiting for her to finish recovering all on her own.

They made a room up for me, just as they did for the rest of the party, but I haven’t been to it once since we came back.  I’ve slept here the whole time, only going out to use the facilities and fetch my food before bringing it right back to eat it here while I watched my friend.  I’ve spent my time reading my spellbooks, practicing newer spells to make sure I can finally master them, or just lying beside Shay as she continued to sleep.  Every once in a while she’d shift, making the odd noise that suggested she might finally be waking up, but so far she hasn’t.  I’ve kept up my own vigil all the same, though.

Art first came to visit yesterday, once he was finally able to start moving around again, and it was a very awkward half hour for me, given how completely absent I’d been during his own recovery.  It might have gone on if he hadn’t made it thoroughly clear throughout the visit that he didn’t care at all about any of that, he understood.  “Shay got it way worse’n me.  You done right, luv.  Keep it up, I say.”  He kept on reassuring me during the whole visit that he didn’t harbour any ill feelings about me seeming to ignore his own injuries, so by the time he left I was almost feeling all right about that myself too.

So when he came back again later in the afternoon I was actually happy to see him.  I put my book aside and we just started talking, and it was really nice.  We just hung out, as he would put it, talking about the same kind of seemingly inconsequential nonsense we always seem to get to talking about when we have downtime together, but he also started asking deeper questions too.  Asking me about parts of my past he’d so far neglected to address.  I indulged him in everything, not least because he was very sweet and respectful about it, never pried into anything I wasn’t comfortable talking about.

Then where it came time for dinner he just waved me down and went to get it himself, and when he brought the food back we ate it together in the room while Shay slept on nearby.  And we kept on talking, into the early hours, before I finally fell asleep.  I woke up a little later to find he’d gone at last, and so I just got into bed again with Shay like I had the night before and went to sleep proper.  In the end it was a really nice day, I decided – Art and I learned more about each other in one afternoon and evening than we have in the seven months we’ve known each other before now …

Shay stirs one final time, rolling her shoulders a bit as she shifts, and for a moment I think she might roll over again.  Then she purses her lips for a moment before letting out a blustery little sigh, groaning subtly as she starts to stretch a little, her brow furrowing now as her eyes screw a little tighter shut.  Now her eyelids are starting to flutter … then they finally open.

It’s only a little, her eyes remain heavily lidded as they move around for a moment, taking time to actually focus before they finally fix on my own.  For a long, drawn out moment we just look at each other, lying here face to face, and I have no idea what’s going through her head right now.  Then her lips part, and she lets out a little sigh as she closes her eyes again.  But only for a moment.  She purrs a little, not so much contentment than just a non-committal inward vocalisation, then looks up at me again.  “Oh.”

Wow … I can’t help it, that just makes me giggle.  There’s no way I can control it, I just start giggling and I can’t stop it, I must lie here for a good minute before I can finally get a handle on it and force myself back under control again.  The whole time Shay just lies there watching me, a gentle smile slowly forming across her pretty lips.  Finally I manage to suck in a good breath and let it out in a relatively easy sigh.  “You idiot.”

“Yeah, I’d say that’s about right.  That didn’t go at all the way I’d hoped it would.”

“You’re lucky to be alive, Shay.  Whatever … whatever that was, what happened to you … if it hadn’t been for Minerva you’d be dead.”

“I’ll have to go thank her as soon as I’m up and about, then.  It’s a good thing we’re in the temple.”  She starts to frown as she turns her head enough to start taking in the room.  “We are in the temple, I imagine.  It certainly has that look.”

“There’s a lot to it, yes.  We are still in the temple.”

“Okay.”  She nods, and her eyelids start to droop again, not enough that she’s definitely going to fall asleep, but she’s definitely relaxing.  Then she stiffens, eyes widening very quickly.  “Oh, gods, yes … of course.  Did we … is everybody … we didn’t lose anyone, did we?”  She suddenly looks so desperate, her eyes searching mine with real urgency now.

“No, we didn’t, everyone else is good.  Kesla got a bit battered, and Dumoli took some nasty wounds too, not so bad as yours but it wasn’t good for him either.”

“How about Art?  I saw him, he was all broken up, is he all right?”

“Pretty much, yes.  Krakka and a few of the other clerics took a while working on him but he’s just about his old self again, at last.  Which means he’s damned near insufferable.”  I can’t help smiling a little as I say it, and Shay returns a gentle chuckle.

“Gods … I’m glad.”  she finally breathes  “That already had me rattled before I even got into that fight with Vandryss.  Tulen as well, I noticed.  I practically had to shove her into your crazy magic battle with that wizard.”

I remember that, Tulen did somewhat seem to come out of nowhere, but it was at just the right time.  That woman was … whoever she is, she’s very powerful.  It was all I could do to put myself on an equal footing with her, and the longer we fought the worse it was getting for everyone around us.  Even when I had Tulen backing me up, she still damn near fought us to a standstill.

“Thank you for that.  I did need her.”

“You know you never have to thank me.  I was just looking out for you.”

For a moment or two I’m lost for words, I genuinely am.  The way she looks at me so softly, it’s so sweet, there isn’t the slightest implication she did any of it out of any sense of obligation she might feel.  She just cared.  And she still does … I reach up carefully and very gently stroke the backs of my fingers across her face.  Shay closes her eyes as I do it, before reaching up and taking my hand.  When she opens her eyes again she just watches me, and we just lie there for a little while, just holding hands and enjoying each other’s company.

“This is very nice.”  Shay finally says  “The bed, I mean.  It’s surprisingly roomy considering we’re both in it.  Soft too, but not too much.  I would’ve expected a temple’s dorms to be a bit more spare than this.”

“Well there are two different dormitories, one’s for staff while the other one’s set aside for guests.  That’s where we are.”  I shrug.  “But from what I can tell, the staff aren’t much worse off than this.  The Order looks after their own, so since at least half the staff in your typical temple of Minerva are Silver Order they have very high standards.”

Shay’s smile grows.  “Yeah, well suppose I can’t really see that Saxiros fellow staying in a poky little cell with roommates, so that makes sense.”

I have to nod along with that.  “Very true.”

Shay grows quiet again for a little while, but she seems to be just relaxing now.  Finally shifts a little, letting go of my hand, and moves around so she can roll onto her back, looking up at the ceiling now.  “So … I saw some of what happened there, after I got stabbed.  Kesla was … well, she fought hard, but Vandryss is a bloody demon.  I swear.  I saw her run that bastard sword of hers clean through her and she just shrugged it off.”

A chill runs right through me hearing that.  I shift a little too, finally propping myself up on my elbow so I can look down at her.  “Minerva … that didn’t kill her?  Was it … did she miss the heart?”

“Sure didn’t look like it.”  Shay looks up at me, and while she’s mostly just thoughtful, there’s maybe a hint of … I wouldn’t say fear, but definitely a clear edge of healthy caution now.  “To be honest, I don’t know what to think about it.  Everything about her was just off.  She moves wrong, she’s too fast, too agile.  I mean sure, perhaps that means she has some elf blood in her like us, but even then it’s more than just … something.  Shrugging off getting stabbed through the heart, though?”  She looks at the ceiling again.  “Meanwhile I had to be an idiot and forget to guard myself with one blade while I forgot she had two.  You’re right, I should be dead.”

“Well I’m bloody glad you’re not, you complete idiot.”  I don’t bother trying to keep the edge out of my admonishment now, I want her to hear how upset I might be about even having to think about it.  “If you’re going to start giving me a hard time about not being more careful when I’m fighting, I’m definitely going to return the favour in times like this.”

Looking up at me now, Shay genuinely looks a little surprised, probably to hear me talking about it so honestly.  Finally she shifts herself again and starts trying to sit up.  I start to lean forward to help her but she just shakes her head, and as she starts to groan and fumble forcing herself up after three whole days of lying down I just sit up myself, drawing my legs up under me as I let the covers drop around my waist.  She finally makes it up but it clearly takes some work, and when she finally does she spends a long moment a little doubled over as she probes where the wound was, breathing a little heavy.

When she looks up, though, she actually mostly seems a little surprised.  “Damn … those healers really know they’re stuff.  Feels like I never even got hurt.”

“Yes, well you’ll still have quite the scar, but then you mercenary types seem to like it.”  I find myself looking down at my fingers now, and when I look up again I notice Shay doing the same.  “Personally, I’d rather not have these.”

Shay looks into my eyes for a good, long moment, thoughtful now, maybe a touch wistful.  “Sometimes a good reminder can be a huge benefit.  Do you know what they say about mistakes?  The number one rule, if you will.”

Frowning, I consider for a moment.  “I don’t do so well with philosophy.  My marks were never that high in that particular class.  I was always glad it never had a major bearing on the finals.”

She laughs at that, leaning in to give me a little nudge with her shoulder.  “You pillock.  No, look … my da always taught me that mistakes were important, because even though they could have really bad results sometimes, there was still good in them because they help you learn.  He said that those who don’t learn from their mistakes are doomed to repeat them.”

I watch her for a long moment as that sinks in.  That’s some damn smart thinking, actually.  Every time Shay tells me anything about her father, the mysterious elven warrior Errelim Ivystone, I grow more fascinated by what I learn.  “That’s very profound, actually.”

“Damn straight.”  Shay reaches out and takes my hand, gently raising it so she can show the scars from Ashsong’s sword on my fingers to me.  “These are a reminder for you, every time you see them they tell you what you did wrong, but also what you did right that helped us win.  I messed up the other night, and it cost me, like when you fought Ashsong.  And now I have something to remind me of what I did wrong, so I don’t let it happen again.”

I look down at the scars for a few more moments, feeling conflicted.  Then Shay reaches out and wraps me up in her arms, and I slowly return her hug, closing my eyes as I let my head rest on her shoulder.  I feel her breath, warm on my crown, and just hold on, contented to stay like this for a while yet.  It’s almost disappointing when she finally lets go and I let her pull away from me again.

“Thank you.”  she says at last, head down now but still looking up at me through her lashes.  So very coy now.

“You’re my friend.  I know you’d do the same for me.”  I have to chuckle a little at the thought, actually, now I realise.  “Fuck, Shay … you did do that for me already.”

She looks up all the way again now, cocking her head a little as she thinks about it.  “You’re right.”  She nods, smiling a little too.  “But I’d still do it again.  Anytime.  I love you very much, Gael Foxtail.  You’re the best friend I’ve had in a very long time.”

Gods … I honestly don’t quite know what to say to that.  Shay chews on her bottom lip now, just a little, clearly now very self-conscious about what she’s just revealed.  But … I have to admit, I feel exactly the same about her.  I guess I love her too.  So I reach out, taking her face between my hands, and lean forward so I can kiss her on the cheek before laying my forehead against hers.  “Yeah, well … same here, you great daft pillock.”

That has her grinning, and she hugs me again, more casually but it still feels nice returning it.  Then her stomach chooses that exact moment to make a particularly long, mournful gurgle, and we both spring apart, a little surprised.  She looks down at her belly, then back up at me, a little sheepish now.  “Wow … how long have I been down?”

“Three days.”

Her eyes go wide.  “Three … bloody hell.  No wonder I’m so fucking hungry.”

“Yes, well food would definitely be the way to go.”  I frown a little.  “And a wash, perhaps.  They have some really nice baths here.”

“They do?”  Shay’s brows shoot right up now.  “How big is this place?”

Grinning again, I lean back onto my hands, stretching my back a little.  “Mmmm … bigger than you’d think.  Remember the library?  It’s magic.  We can do interesting things with architecture.”

Shay considers it for a moment, then shrugs, smiling a little again.  Then she looks down at herself, realising how dressed down she is now.  Like me she’s stripped down to the very basic layers, just a nightshirt and a pair of drawers to protect her modesty now.  As her frown returns she takes a tentative sniff under the collar, then another at her armpit, and makes a face.  “Oof … yeah, you’re right.  A wash would be good.  But first I need food.  I’m starving.”  Then her frown deepens.  “But first … maybe a piss.  Looks like you’re right, I really must have been out of it for days …”

“Good point.”  I’m starting to feel a little full myself now … throwing the covers off on my side, I swing my legs out and settle my feet into the thick carpet before finally pushing myself upright.  “You should come with me.”

As I collect one of the warm flannel robes from the rack on the back wall, Shay swings her own legs out, then pauses on the edge of the bed, sitting forward for a long moment.  For a moment or two she’s probing her side again, then she reaches to her shoulder, where the new tattoo is.  “Huh … well that’s just …”  I can’t see her face from this angle, but I see her stiffen all the same.  “Wait … no, please …”

For a moment I think she might be undergoing some kind of crisis I can’t begin to fathom as she starts to claw about under her collar, but then I realise she’s simply trying to check under the nightshirt.  The tattoo … she’s worried about the tattoo, because of course it’s not sore or itchy anymore.  I can’t help my sigh of relief as I almost gasp the words:  “Shay, it’s all right.  Your tattoo should be fine.  It’s just healed.”

“But … but how the hell did it …”  She pauses, taking a deep breath before shifting her shoulder a little while she tries moving the collar aside with a little more care.  Finally she’s able to get a proper peak at the edge of it at least, and so do I … yes, much as I expected, it’s all there, and the subtle redness and slightly swollen raised lines are now gone, while it looks like she’s bypassed the scabbing process entirely.  What she has there now is just the finished tattoo in its pristine artistic glory.

Turning to look at me now, she looks thoroughly nonplussed.  “What the hell?  I though you said it was just three days.”

“It’s magic, Shay.”  I pull the robe on, but leave it open for now.  “They poured a lot of healing magic into you, they had to, as much for the infection as to repair the damage.  So of course it bled over to your tattoo.”  I shrug.  “Look at it this way, no more discomfort.  I remember you really weren’t enjoying the pain after we left the shop.”

“Yes, well that I can do without, the itching too, I suppose I’m glad I missed that …”  She keeps frowning.  “It’s just a little … I don’t know if I like that the magic just … did something with my body that wasn’t even intended.”

“Yes, well that’s the thing about magic.”  I check through the other robes, finally selecting one I imagine should fit her nicely.  She’s taller than me, but not that much broader across the shoulders, so it’s not too hard.  “It does what it wants, even when we try to pin it down with limits and mechanisms.  But it still has rules, at least in a very broad sense, and what they used on you was entirely benevolent magic, so there was no danger of it doing any harm to you while it was fixing you.  In the end that’s just …”  I shrug as I make my way around the bed to reach her.  “An interesting side effect.”

Pondering on it for a moment longer, Shay finally shrugs again.  “Fair enough.  Just so long as I’m not a bloody virgin again I can live with it.”

I have to laugh again at that.  “I highly doubt it.”

“Good.”  She pushes herself up off the bed and gets her legs under her, but it clearly takes some effort.  She grunts as she tries to straighten up, and her legs are very wobbly, bad enough that her knees give a little before she’s all the way up and I have to spring forward in time to catch her before she goes down again.  She grabs hold of me too, genuinely a little spooked, and for a moment she’s left breathing fast and hard as I prop her up.  Then she finally takes a deeper breath and pushes herself away from me, trying to stand on her own again, and this time it seems to work out better.  “Oh … this isn’t fun, Gael.  I haven’t felt this shitty since …”  She sighs.  “Ah shit … since I helped bring you back.”

“You’ll be all right.”  I take a very cautious step back from her, still ready in case her legs decide to betray her again, but I think she’s safe enough now.  “I was all right enough after a few days, and I died.  I’m sure you can bounce back quicker than that.”  I pass her the robe.

“Wow, this is …”  Shay holds it out in front of her, opening it out so she can give it a proper look over.  “This is nice.  I don’t know if I can wear this, it’s too fancy.”

“Well it’s yours regardless, so you might as well.”  I start to cinch the sash about my waist now, giving it the tradition two turns around before I finally start to tie it off.  I do it slowly, exaggerating my motions somewhat so Shay can see what I’m doing.

“What?”  Her eyes go wide again.  “Are you serious?  How … surely that’s not right …”

“Compliments of the Order.  Everything in this room technically belongs to you, so …”

“Except you, of course.”  A smile starts to touch her lips as she relaxes again, and it’s quite sly.  She starts to pull the robe on now.

I start blushing immediately.  “I don’t … no, we’re just friends, aren’t we?”

Shay’s smile broadens into a gleeful grin and she gives a bubbly little chuckle.  “It was a joke, you dope.  I mean, you are very pretty, I would definitely be interested, but …”  She keeps grinning when she sees the face I must be making, and gives my shoulder a gentle thump.  “Dummy.  I’m just messing with you.  Besides, I know you’re already spoken for.”

Now that one really has me stumped, I try to work out if she’s still joking or actually serious now as she finally closes the robe and starts looping the sash around her waist like I did before.  I’m left floundering for a few moments as she starts trying to work out the particulars of the knot.  “No … wait, no.  I don’t have … there’s nobody that I’m … what the hell are you talking about?”

Finally she just gives up and ties a simple bow.  Throwing her hands up vaguely, she gives me a long, hard stare, all her humour gone now, seemingly in an instant, which takes me somewhat by surprise.  I can’t say I’m particularly comfortable being regarded with that look.  “Gael, come on.  How are you still this clueless?”

“I don’t get it.  It’s not a funny joke, Shay.  You’re supposed to be able to understand the punchline.”

Shay looks at me for another loaded moment, then throws her hands up in the air again.  “Freya, please, how are you still not getting it?”

I’m about to try answering back, even though I don’t know what I’m actually going to say, when there’s a knock at the door.  Shay cocks a brow, but I just give her a harsh look as I push past her, stepping across the inexplicably warm carpet that gently tickles my bare feet.  Stopping short of the door, I take a breath.  “Who is it?”

“It’s a handsome prince on a big white charger.”  Art’s cocky voice comes through the door with surprising clarity given that everything here is specifically designed and enchanted to deaden as much outside ambient sound as possible to facilitate a comfortable slumber.  Then again, I want to hear the answer, so I can.  Magic can be a bit of a brainteaser sometimes, I’m still finding.  “Who d’you think it is, genius?”

When I look back at Shay her sly smile’s returned, and she starts moving towards me with a surprising amount of her old, silken dancer’s grace again.  “How is it the old saying goes?”

Frowning, I find myself floundering again.  “I … what?”

“Oh yes.  Speak a demon’s name and it’s apt to appear.”  Her grin widens.

The stare I give her must remain pretty blank since I still don’t know what she’s getting at.  “Whatever it is, I really don’t care anymore.”

“Hey, I’m still here, y’know.”  Art nags from the other side of the door  “You coming out anytime today or not?  I figured maybe you wanted to actually eat a meal outside this room for once.”

“He has a point, you know.”  Shay sighs, clearly letting it go now as she steps up beside me.  “I’m hungry, and I’m dying for a piss.  Can we just get out of here already?”

TO BE CONTINUED ...

[professorsnape394]

The Potions Master’s Apprentice

Chapter Ten: Breaking Boundaries

A/N: This is the tenth part to my fanfiction ‘The Potions Master’s Apprentice (Severus Snape x OC)’. Chapters 1-16 can be found already uploaded on Wattpad under the same name. Feel free to leave requests in my inbox for anything Snape related you want me to write. Leave a comment below if you wish to be added to my tag list.

Pairing: Severus Snape x OC (Dumbledore’s Granddaughter)

Summary: A talented young witch is employed as an apprentice professor at Hogwarts, but who will she be working under? Severus Snape is not best pleased with his new responsibility of taking on an apprentice, however she is relentless to create a friendship between them. Will she be successful? Or might the friendship just go a little two far? With the eyes of her grandfather constantly watching over them, an attempt at a relationship might not be in the cards for Aria Dumbledore and Severus Snape.

Word Count: 3188

Warnings: mentions of male sex organ and sexual arousal. 

Credits to Gif Creator

After a long day of lessons all Aria Dumbledore wanted to do was rip off her uncomfortable heels and change into something she could relax in for the rest of the night. However working with Severus meant that her day did not end immediately after lessons like the other professors' did. With the amount of essays Snape gave out on the daily, it was a miracle he was able to mark them at all, with or without her. She understood now why he never slept, but what she couldn't wrap her head around was why he gave out so many essay in the first place.

At first Severus refused any help from Aria, insisting he didn't need an assistant, but gradually Aria managed to work her way into his routine and soon enough the pair were spending every night together in Snape's classroom, marking essays and making potions.

"Severus." Aria spoke up, as the teachers departed from the Great Hall after dinner, stopping Snape in his tracks. She let her hand rest lightly on his bicep for a second, allowing herself to fall in line as they returned to the dungeons together.

"Miss Dumbledore." He replied coldly, suppressing any thoughts that may have dared entered his mind when he felt her gentle touch on his arm.

"I was thinking... I know we usually spend the evening marking in the classroom, but its just so cold in there and dark too." Aria started. "And we have to squeeze around the desk, with all those papers- "

"What are you getting at Miss Dumbledore." He droned, looking over his shoulder at the woman.

"How about we switch it up for tonight, maybe do the marking in my quarters? Its warm, I have a fire, with couches we can sit at. And if that's not your thing then your welcome to sit at my desk, but I just can't spend another night breaking my back sitting hunched over one. My feet are killing me in these shoes and I'm sick of freezing to death." Aria continued to rant, waiting for Snape to stop her.

"You can stop trying to convince me. Though I may not appear it, I am not a completely unreasonable man, all you have to do is ask."

"Thank god." She groaned, as they turned the corner to the dungeons.

After collecting two large stacks of papers from the potions classroom, the professors made their way along the corridor to Aria's private quarters. Almost immediately after entering the room Aria kicked off her heels, and threw her cloak over the couch.

"Just make yourself at home, get comfortable. I need to go change."

Severus entered the room awkwardly, clutching onto his papers, not daring to touch anything except the air he occupied. For the first time in a long time he felt out of place at Hogwarts. Snape liked to be in control and the way he was able to do that was keeping to the places where he felt most comfortable and had power. As soon as he agreed to spend the evening in Aria's quarters he lost that power and the ability to feel like he had any superiority over the woman. Though he hated feeling out of place, he enjoyed the woman's company, despite the fact he pretended not to, and was willing to make a sacrifice or two in order to listen to her meaningless chatter.

The man slowly made his way around the room, gradually drifting towards her cluttered desk, dropping his papers amongst her own small stacks. Snape couldn't help but be drawn to an open letter Aria had left. His eyes scanned the letter, sickened by its mushy context, but he couldn't seem to pull his gaze away.

Severus was stunned to discover that Aria was in a relationship and yet had not mentioned it to anyone since her arrival. She seemed the type who would boast about the fact, telling everyone and anyone who would listen. It dawned on him that maybe she had mentioned it before, just not to him. After all, why would she? He didn't show any interest in her life, or share any information about himself with her. He had made it pretty clear that they weren't anything more than coworkers, so then why was he hurt by the fact she had not confided in him?

The thought quickly left his mind when the witch reentered the room, leaving him slightly dumbfounded. It was the first time he had witnessed her looking relaxed and casual opposed to the straight laced, well put together façade she put on around the students. Even before the start of term and on their trip to Hogsmeade she maintained an air of sophistication. Looking at her now she appeared as you would expect a 21 year old to appear. Her hair fell around her face in stunning natural beach waves, still a little messy from being held up in a bun all day. She had changed out of her painful heels and uncomfortable work clothes and now appeared in a pair of tight fitting exercise shorts paired with a large oversized t-shirt, that exposed her tanned shoulder and collarbone. Severus couldn't help but notice her lack of bra, but made a conscious effort to keep his gaze fixated on her face.

"What are you doing?" Aria laughed nervously, noticing her mentor standing awkwardly by her desk, staring at her a little too long.

"I was merely looking for a place to conduct my marking, but as the only work space in the room is full of meaningless clutter, then it seems I have no other choice than to move." He growled, over compensating for his earlier thoughts.

Aria went to object but decided it wasn't worth the hassle and simply grabbed her pile and took a seat next to Severus on the couch and got to working.

Seeing Aria in her natural form had Severus mesmerised. He had of course appreciated her attractiveness many times before, but now her beauty seemed more down to earth and natural. He couldn't take his eyes off her. Ever since she had come to his office and bandaged him up, his mind was swarming with thoughts of her once more. The way her fingers gently traced the patterns on his palm as she carefully tended to his wound. Every time he replayed the action in his head a wave of shivers ran up his spine, sending flutters straight to his stomach.

After marking a less than adequate amount of essays, Severus finally gave up trying. Out the corner of his eye he couldn't help but watch as Aria absentmindedly brushed one of her smooth bare legs against the other. His eyes continued to travel up her body, resting for second on a small section of her waist that had been left exposed from the way her top had shifted. Once again he couldn't help but notice the prominent outline of her bare breasts through the slightly transparent shirt. Snape felt his face flush with colour, and chose to swiftly move on. He became entranced as his gaze fell upon her face, watching her read intently, as she nibbled on the end of her quill, letting it bounce slightly between her teeth. Severus could not help his mind rush to a number of scenarios which he quickly dismissed.

Oblivious to the thoughts running through her colleagues mind, Aria continued marking the majority of her essays, before finally giving up.

"How about we take a little break." Aria suggested, throwing another essay on her 'done' pile.

"Very well." Severus agreed, not that he had been doing much anyway.

Aria took the opportunity to stretch her bones, turning her body to face Snape.

"you know, we spend a hell of a lot of time together, but all we ever do is work." Aria commented, standing up from where she had been sat on the couch.

"What are you getting at, Miss Dumbledore." Snape replied, turning his attention to a neglected book he found resting on her coffee table.

"I'm just saying that we're allowed to spend time together, without making it about work. Minerva and I often enjoy afternoon tea together, and I frequently visit Hagrid at his cabin for a chat, I don't see why we have to pretend to be marking essays just to be in each others company."

"I'm not pretending to do anything, Miss Dumbledore. The essays need to be marked, and whether you chose to help me or not, I will be spending my evenings doing the exact same thing either way."

Severus picked up a rogue book from her coffee table, dog-earing the page Aria had left the book lying open on and began to read from the beginning, curious to see what kind of literature she was interested in.

Meanwhile Aria had made her way through to her open plan kitchen and was currently rummaging through a number of cupboards but continued her conversation.

"We're the teachers Severus, the students will get the essays back when we say so, we do not have to rush to complete them as soon as they're handed back to us. Besides it would give the students a little more time in between essays to relax before they were immediately issued another." The clinking of glasses caught Severus' attention, so he too got up, meeting the woman in her kitchen.

"Have a drink." She offered, handing him a glass of deep red liquid, hoping to loosen up his inhibitions.

"I thought you didn't drink." Snape muttered, taking the drink from her.

"Like I said before, I don't drink often, or rather to excess. But if this is what it takes to get you to relax with me, then I'm willing to comprise." She winked, holding up her own glass to cheers the other professor.

"Despite the impression you may have gotten, Miss Dumbledore, I do not rely on alcohol to get through the day."

"I know that." Aria spoke, her tone becoming sadder. "I know that you were drinking a lot before the start of term because of me. I'm sorry I done that to you, I honestly did not think that the two of us having dinner together would be such a scandal. I was wrong, I know that now. But can't we just remain colleagues who enjoy each others company every once in a while." She hoped.

Severus took a deep intake of breath before taking a large gulp of wine.

"You were not the reason I turned to alcohol to drown my sorrows, Miss Dumbledore. Yes, I enjoy a glass of FireWhiskey or Nettle Wine once in a while, and occasionally I feel the need to indulge more than what is deemed appropriate. Usually it occurs in the summer and I have no one around me who cares. It only ever lasts a few days or so, a week at most, and after that I get back on track and its no longer a problem. It is true that your presence may have dug up some unfortunate memories of mine, but it was not your fault." Severus enunciated the last few words of his sentence, reassuring the woman not to blame herself for his small moment of weakness. The way her eyes sparkled in the light as they met his sent a wave of regret over him, wishing he had just accepted the wine and said nothing. An appreciated smile spread across his apprentice's face, thankful she had been reassured.

Professor Snape gulped down some more his of wine nervously, making his way back to the couch, Aria followed closely behind.

"So." He started, once again picking up the abandoned book, eager to change to subject. "I noticed your reading Pride and Prejudice, how are you finding it?"

"Oh." She smiled, biting her lip, slightly embarrassed. "It's one I'm currently reading." She said vaguely, bouncing down on the couch, sitting crossed legged.

"So your into muggle literature? I have read a few myself though I tend to stay away from the Brontes."

"It's Austen actually." She corrected, nodding towards the spine of the book, cradling her still relatively full glass of wine. "I have to admit, I'm a bit useless when it comes to reading. I love it so much, but I'm just too impatient, that's my problem." She laughed, getting frustrated with herself and running a hand through her tangled mass of hair.

Severus watched as she jumped from her seat, quickly collecting a few of the other novels she had left scattered around the place, all of which had been left balancing open mid-page. The woman returned with five or six books in her arms, all of which had been read half way through or almost to the very end, although none had been completely read through.

"I'm a bit of scatter brain, if I'm being completely honest. I've started all of these and every time I find a new book I completely disregard the one I was reading, too eager to start another, before finishing the first. Most of the time I forget where I've left them, so I couldn't finish them even if I wanted to. I swear Severus, If it wasn't for you keeping me on track with the students schedules, I'd go utterly mad and forget what I was supposed to be teaching." Aria let out a huge breath, dropping all of the books down in between her and Snape, before plopping herself down once more.

Snape suppressed the urge to laugh at the woman's dopiness, she was truly a character, but he secretly adored the absurdness she possessed. She kept it hidden so well in front of her grandfather and the students but often when they were alone she allowed her true personality to shine and that is when Severus felt his weakest with her. He could not possibly find a reason to be angry at her when she was feeling vulnerable enough to get comfortable around him.

The Potions Master took it upon himself to inspect each of the novels, before setting them aside, neatly piled high. He did, however, keep a hold of the original book, continuing from where he had left off.

Noticing the man getting engrossed in the book, Aria chose not to bother him with any more of her idle chatter and instead grabbed a notebook and quill from her bedroom and begun sketching. She was content with just being in each other's company and not working that she didn't mind that they were not talking. In fact, one of the things she loved most about their relationship was that they were able to sit in a comfortable silence without either of them feeling awkward.

After a few attempts of sketching objects around the room, she gave in trying and decided to focus on what she drew best. Not wanting to interrupt his train of thought by asking a meaningless question, such as if he would give her permission to draw him, Aria didn't see the big deal and went ahead with her sketch.

An hour or so passed and the couple were deep in their activities and not a word had been spoken since the last. By now Severus had removed his robes, the heat from the fire proving too much, though he still kept himself fully covered by the means of his overcoat. Aria, far too comfortable in her chambers, had now stretched out across the whole couch, her feet resting gently on the side of Severus' thigh, but he was yet to complain.

It wasn't until almost two hours into their activities that Severus thought too look at the clock. Time had gotten on, and usually the pair would have gone their separate ways by now, spending the rest of their nights alone. Strangely Professor Snape did not feel the urge to depart just yet and chose to stay a while longer. Aria had become absorbed in the sketch she was doing, and was not complaining he was still there. This was good enough for Severus. Looking up from her notepad every few seconds, but still utterly engaged in her drawing,  Aria had no idea what was currently going on in Snape's mind.

Once he had broke away from the book back to reality, Snape struggled to get himself to focus again. Instead his mind was preoccupied by how close he had let Aria get to him. He felt her wriggle her toes absentmindedly. It was almost as if she was beating out a tune against his leg, and he was very aware of every movement she made. Her feet had managed to make their way into his lap, and every small movement that brushed against his thigh, had Severus' heart beating faster.

The woman fidgeted relentlessly, her legs shifting in lap and her toes scrunching up against his inner thigh. Snape could not help the reaction his body was having as his assistant brushed against him, but the thoughts that entered his mind, only stimulated the problem he was having. Surely she must know what she was doing to him. The Professor kept his eyes on the page, though he took in none of the words. His face flushed pink, whether from the heat of the fire or his own imagination, he did not know. Snape allowed himself one look at the woman curious to see if her actions were deliberate. As he expected she was completely oblivious to the whole situation, simply sketching away, not a care in the world.

Looking at the woman only worsened the situation. He had tried to keep his thoughts at bay, in order to prevent his throbbing penis from doing what penis' do best. But seeing the young woman lay there in front of him, her body so close to his, rubbing against him. Severus could take it no longer. He felt himself growing, and he refused to endure the humiliation had she to notice, let alone the frustration that he would be able to do nothing about it.

Without warning Snape jumped from his position on the couch, grabbing his robes, and leaving the book where he sat. "It's late. I have to go." Was all he said bluntly, slamming the door as he practically flew from the room.

Aria Dumbledore had no words to say. She was less shocked by his sudden departure than the fact he had actually stayed with her all evening, spending some time together, in their own unique way. Abandoning her pad and quill, Aria slipped into bed, falling asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow.

Severus on the other hand did not drift off so easily. He spent half the night damning himself for being so vulnerable and getting himself into that situation, and the other half dreaming of the possibilities that could have happened had he stayed. Though he knew nothing would have happened, even if he wanted it to. She was in a relationship and Snape was not one for physical affection. However, he allowed himself the small luxury of dreaming about her for one night.

Taglist: @ayamenimthiriel

@lizlil

[pit-and-the-pen]

Don't Underestimate Me (Chapter 3)

A slightly longer update to make up for the tiny one a few days ago. Plus I got sucked into this and would have finished it last night but it was already 4 and I had a decent amount to wrap up.

We finally get to see Skylar and Fred together and boy is it cheesy. I make no apologies.

Warnings: Fluff

word count: 5.4k 

Taglist:@thoseofgreatambition @ickle-ronniekins @obsessedwithrandomthings-blog @harrysweasleys @kpopgirlbtssvt @shadowsinger11 @harrypotter289​  @elf-punk @bitchywhisperswizard @they-write-once-in-a-blue-moon @magical-spit @heart-of-tempered-steel @wand3ringr0s3 @things-that-start-with-f @a-little-too-much @izzytheninja @kpopgirlbtssvt @m1rkw00dpr1ncess @darlingdelacour

The Art of Dancing in The Rain 

“Alright I think that’s enough for today.” Fred bellows over the crowd. A couple people groaned at his words. “Oh save it” He laughs as he starts to take off his gear. George starts to help clear the training gear from the rink. Pushing the dummies back into their holding cell. 

“What do you think of them?” George asks as he leans against the cage. 

“Of who?” Fred asks. 

“Prospective troops. Find one you trust yet?” Fred just shakes his head. 

“But the tournament hasn’t really started yet. This is just training.” George claps a hand on his brother's shoulder. 

“One will show eventually.” They both sigh. 

“Not that we have a choice.” 

The two finish cleaning up in silence. 

“Well that’s all done. Want to walk back up?” George asks, brushing the dirt on his hands onto his pants.

“You go. There’s someone I’m hoping to bump into.” Fred ruffles his hair. 

“Does this someone have a name?” He says with a wink, jabbing an elbow into this twin's side and grabbing him around the shoulders.

“Abigail.” George whistles. 

“That’s a new one for sure.” He looks around a few times. “Well have fun. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” 

“That’s quite a small list.” They both laugh before George gives him a wave and starts to head back up to the royal families part of the castle. Fred looks back before heading up to the main part of the estate. 

“Funny running into you again.” Fred says to the girl running around the corner. She freezes, stumbling slightly at the change of speed,  and gives him a look so frightened it's almost laughable. After a few heavy moments she seems to remember herself and straightens up, fidgeting with one of the frills on her dress. 

‘Is that..” He points to the girl in front of him. “One of Ginny’s old dresses?” He has to fight back a laugh. She looks out of place in it, the dress an ugly pastel blue that doesn’t suit her at all. She just nods her head. 

“Apparently I didn’t have good enough clothes for the palace and Minerva found something that fit.” She ruffles the garment again. “And now I look like a little girl.” She shrugs and Fred can’t help but laugh. A full body laugh that makes the corners of her mouth turn up in spite of herself. “I’m gonna ignore the fact that you're laughing at me because I did too when I saw it.” She chuckles softly at her own joke. 

“As much as I love these run-ins. I am late for a meeting.” Abigail mutters before giving a low bow. Fred chuckles again at her small mix up and gives her a small curtsey. 

“See you around.” He says as she starts to walk past him. 

“Seems like it.” She calls over her shoulder. A small part of Fred can’t help but help a small part of him that hopes he sees her a lot more. He walks back to his room with a little more swing in his step. 

As the door clicked closed the small chatter in the room died down. She immediately felt multiple sets of eyes on her, she felt her cheeks heat up.  

“Ah! Abigail!” Fleur's voice calls from one of the chairs in the room. The blonde girl pats the chair directly next to her. Shaking off the nervousness, Skylar slowly walks further into the room. The stares seemed to have died off slightly at Fleur's greeting, small chatter started to pick up in the room again echoing off the high ceilings. 

When Skylar sits down she is greeted by a hand sticking out. She notices the girl, a halo of curly brown hair almost the color of her skin. She has warm friendly eyes. 

“Hermione Granger. Pleasure” She says as Skylar takes her hand. 

“Abigail Green.” The name still feels uncomfortable in her throat. 

“I haven’t seen you around the castle before, are you from around here?” Hermione asks. Skylar just shakes her head. 

“I was invited for the ball, I think. Why I couldn’t tell you.” She gives an awkward laugh at the small joke. “But when the royal family sends you a letter.” Hermione chuckles and nods. 

“Well you must have gone to some important school to be on the royal families radar?” She looks her up and down. “Not Hogwarts, obviously, I would have noticed you around.” It’s like you could see the light bulb go off in her head. “Oh, Fleur.” 

“Unfortunately no. I’m from a small village right outside the kingdom.” Skylar says with a shrug. Hermione seems to be a tiny bit dejected. “But my father was a trainer for dueling so that might have something to do with it?” She quickly adds when she sees the girls face fall ever so slightly. 

“Ah yes of course. I think I remember reading something about the Greens in a book somewhere..” She mutters mostly to herself.  

“All right stop hogging the new girl.” Another girl from across the room calls out to Hermione with a smile. 

In a matter of moments she is shaking hands with all of the girls in the room, names and backgrounds being thrown around. Honestly, it’s making Skylars head spin trying to match the name to the face, the face to the voice, and the random bits of information on top of that. 

Spending time with all the ladies was a quick way to spend an afternoon but it was draining. If it came down to a day of training with Mace, she wasn’t really sure which one she would prefer. 

It became time for the girls to go to their individual activities and lessons which ended up leaving Skylar in the room with just Fleur and Hermione, eventually the two girls do have to excuse themselves and it’s Skylar in the room, holding the book that Hermione had loaned her to read. 

When she looks at the clock it’s still fairly early in the day, barely past morning. The benefit of getting up before the sun to have to train. There's still so much of the day left for anything. She sits and opens the book before hearing someone open the door. 

She looks up from the page she’s reading and is greeted by the smile facing of Prince Fred. 

“What a surprise seeing you here.” She says glancing up. 

“Oh in my own castle.” He shoots back. 

“No in this room.” She laughs. “It’s a big castle and what are the odds?” With that she closes the book. “If I didn’t know any better I would say you were looking for me?” 

“Looking for you? Why would I do that?” 

She shrugs. “You tell me.” 

“Walk with me?” Fred says, still standing in the door. 

She puts the book in her lap and looks at him, examining for a moment. 

“I have nothing better to do. Why not.” She stands up and bows to him. Fred curtsies again. Laughing at what seems to be their new joke. She walks over to the door and he gestures for her to lead the way. 

They walk in silence for a while. Both just basking in the silence. It was a comfortable silence. One that didn’t really need to be filled. They walk down the hall until they get to a split in the hallway. 

“My room is that way.” She points towards the left. Fred nods. 

“Mine that way.” Pointing the other way. She nods

“Well then I won't take up any more of your time.” She bowed one last time

As she starts to walk away Fred feels the words come out before he can stop them

“Do you want to go on a walk of the gardens?” He quickly puts his hand over his mouth, like he can catch the words after they came out of his mouth. She turns around slowly, like she doesn’t believe her ears. 

“I beg your pardon? I think I might have something wrong with my ears.” She says, cupping around one of her ears. A playful smile hinting on her face. He clears his throat and takes a deep breath. 

“Well I’ve noticed you always going from one meeting to the next and I don’t think you’ve actually gotten to see how beautiful the um..” He clears his throat again. “The grounds are. So who better to show you the castle than a royal.” 

“Do you give all the new girls the royal tour.” She says as she crosses her arms, leaning against the wall. The smile is still hinting on her face. 

Fred decided to take the bait. “Well only the pretty ones of course.” He instantly feels the tips of his ears heat up. 

“Oh and am I one of the pretty ones now?” The sound of her giggles comforts him. 

“Well….” He drags out the word before sucking his teeth. “the amount of new girls is pretty limited around here so I guess by default.” 

“Wow.” She says pushing herself off the wall. “You really do know how to flatter a girl. Consider me won over.” She dramatically puts her hand over her heart and pretends to swoon. 

“I’ll take that as a yes then?”

“It’s not a no.” She sticks her head up in the air. Fred laughs and lightly holds his hand in front of hers. Softly she looks down and she seems to hesitate for a second before placing her palm against his. Without thinking against it he ducks if head down and gives her a small kiss on the hand. 

“Please. I’d like to show you around Abigail.” His voice is soft, like talking to a cornered animal. What am I doing? His inner voice is screaming at him but right now he’s acting on instinct. She takes her hand back just as slow as she gave it. Her eyes seemed to linger on the spot where his lips touched. 

“Alright, enough showing off your majesty.” Her voice sounds a little dazed. 

“Is it still ‘not a no’?” He says, raising an eyebrow to her. 

“If it’ll get you out of my hair then sure. Why not?” She raises her hand in a slight surrender. 

“But, if I may speak so frankly, you should go freshen up. You stink.” She pinches her nose to emphasize her words. He can’t help but laugh but also knows she’s probably not wrong. 

“Well if that’s what the lady wants.” He gives her a small bow, “I’ll meet you here in, let's say an hour?” He asks.

She nods. Fred notices how she’s biting her lip to keep her smile in. 

“Then I guess I’ll see you in an hour. Now shoo” She waves him off before walking away. He can’t help to notice the same small bounce he normally gets after talking to you. He looks at her retreating figure until she turns the corner and goes out of sight. 

The moment she is out of his sight, she pulls up the bottom of her dress and starts to sprint down the hall. Running down to the apartments. She gets to the outside of Fleur's door, out of breath. After taking a few seconds to compose herself, she raps on the door a few times. 

“Fleur it’s Abigail. Please?” She says after a few seconds of no response. 

“One moment!” She yells through the door. Skylar hears some rustling around and swears she hears another voice. After a few more beats, Fleur opens the door. 

“Um..I’m sorry if I’m interrupting..” She looks at Fleur's face and the slight smug of her lipstick. “Something. But I need a favor?” 

She raises an eyebrow. Skylar groans and looks at the ceiling. “Look, don’t make a big deal out of it but i have a da..” She sighs. “I have a..” 

“A what?” Fleur seems more intrigued now, smiling. 

“A date.” she squeals out. Putting her hand over her eyes like a school aged girl. 

“Oh you should have led with that!” She squeals back and grabs her hand, pulling her into her apartment. 

“You’re not planning on wearing that?” Fleur questions while looking her up and down. 

“What’s wrong with it?” She ruffles the skirt and looks down. 

“It’s beautiful but wearing a little girls dress on a date isn’t the smartest move.” Fleur laughs at the look that crosses her face. 

“Never thought of it that way.” 

“And that’s why you came to me for help. I’ll grab you something. Sit.” She barks and points to a stool in front of a mirror. 

A few minutes pass and Fleur comes back in the room with a dress folded over her arm. 

“I think this color will look amazing on you.” She tosses it to the girl sitting down and she stumbles to catch it. 

She stands up to try to unbutton the dress she is currently wearing. She struggles to get one open and Fleur rolls her eyes and huffs. 

“You really are useless.” She laughs and walks over to help her get into the dress. “Ah you won't be needing this. Most dresses from France have them built in now.” Fleur says tapping on the back of the corset Skylar is wearing. 

“Thank Merlin. I hate this thing.” She sighs out as Fleur unlaces it and slides it over her head. The dress quickly replaces it and Fleur makes quick work of the laces. 

“There.” She says as she does the last button on the back. Skylar takes a glimpse into the mirror and almost doesn’t recognize herself. The dress gives her more shape than she has ever seen herself have. Cutting into her hips at just the right places and the panel in the front gives the illusion that a hand might be able to wrap around her waist. She notices her chest sticking out just a little bit more than she’s used to and tries to pull it up to give her a little more modesty. 

“Leave it.” She says casually, at the look she gets from skylar she laughs. “Give him something to dream over.” Skylar looks offended at the comment. 

“I doubt anyone will be dreaming over me but I take your word.” Skylar mutters with an uncomfortable laugh. 

“Sweetie, look at yourself.” She comes up behind the girl and straightens her shoulders back. “You’ll do just fine. You just need some confidence. And while I’m talented, that’s something only you can give yourself.” Fleur gives her a small smile. “And if you can’t do that. Hold your head high, if you trick them you can sometimes trick yourself along that way.” She sighs and shakes her head. 

Skylar turns around and looks the girl in the eye before throwing her arms around her middle. 

“Thank you so much! I owe you.” She whispers to the girl. Thanking her for the dress and for the kind words. 

“Oh don’t think I forgot about our little agreement. But for now, go.” She holds her at arm's length. 

“Oh and I never asked but who is the lucky man?” She raises an eyebrow. 

“Don’t freak out,” She takes a deep breath and tries to swallow the smile that crosses her face at the thought. “Prince Fred.” Fleur's eyes go wide. 

“You’re kidding me!” She says in a high pitch voice. “Here for two days and you already have caught the eye of a Prince and you have the nerve to think you aren’t pretty.” Fleur gives Skylar’s shoulder a little playful shove. 

“You must have something, Fred normally keeps to himself.” A deep voice from Fleur’s room calls. Skylar looks over to the source of the voice and she can’t figure out if she should freeze or bow. She starts to kneel down but a laugh stops her. 

“Absolutely not.” Bill chuckles out. 

Skylar looks over to Fleur who is staring at King Bill like he is the last star in the sky. 

“I see we have more to talk about but I’ll leave you two back to yourselves.” She says to Fleur with a small smirk. Bill laughs again before retreating back into the room. 

“The king?” Skylar mouths to Fleur who only gives her a big smile and a simple shrug that says “can you blame me?” 

“Good luck.” Fleur says to her in a friendly tone, her mind seeming to be elsewhere. 

“Thank you again Fleur.” Skylar whispers as she walks to the door. 

Looking at the large clock on the wall Skylar realizes she is about ten minutes early. 

“Someone looks eager.” A voice says from seemingly nowhere, making Skylar jump. 

“Merlin, you scared me!” She says putting her hand against her chest. Skylar takes a second to recover before falling right into their normal banter. 

“I could accuse you of the same thing.” She laughs. To which, he just rolls his eyes. 

“Come on, I’m dying to see what’s so special about the garden that I would require a first hand tour of it.” Skylar says eagerly, holding her arm out. Fred chuckles again at the slight role reversal. He wraps his hand loosely around her extended arm and they head to the door arm in arm. 

The hedges alone were enough to take away Skylars breath. All meticulously groomed into twists and turns. Making the whole border along the walkway look like waves following along besides them. Skylar was pleasantly surprised to see moss and vines wrapping themselves into the hedges, making them look like they could have actually grown that way. The diversity gave it a certain magic that reminded Skylar of their tiny overgrown garden that her mother used to tend to. It’s a warm homey feeling. They follow the path of randomly placed paving stones that seem to sparkle under the sunlight, what little still hangs in the air as clouds start to swirl in the air. Fred seemed to not notice how the air had gotten the slight heaviness that tells rain is on it’s way in. Not wanting to ruin their nice walk, she decides to not point it out. They just walk, seeming to have no destination set. That is until they get to a clearing with a gazebo. 

The smell is the first thing she notices, which is shocking considering the amount of color that the area has. Never in all of her life had Skylar seen this many flowers. It looked like a scene from out of a story book she would read when she was younger. So many different colors and smells. Hydrangeas in various colors lined where the bushes used to be like a little wall, wildflowers in beautiful pastel shades tickled the bottom of her dress, apparently this area didn’t get groomed like the rest of the grass and she was thankful for it. She noticed honeysuckle snaking its way up the one structure in this little clearing, making it seem like it belonged there just as much as the flowers themselves. 

“This is mums doing. She had the hydrangeas planted when Charlie was born. Then the roses with Bill.” He points over to the trees in the furthest corner. “The trees came for the rest of us. Apple for Percy, twin lilacs for George and I, willow for Ron, and an orange blossom for Ginny.” He laughs to himself. “My parents got married in this field when it only had the wildflowers, that’s when that was built.” He pointed to the shelter. “She wanted it to be a place to show how much we have grown as a family.” 

“It’s beautiful.” Skylar says reaching out to touch one of the large hydrangeas. Fred glances over to her. 

“That it is.” He walks over to the apple tree and plucks two from a low hanging branch. 

He calls over to Skylar, “Catch.” And he’s surprised when she does without a second thought. 

“Nice one.” He says, wiping off his own apple on his shirt. “Here let's keep walking. There’s a lot more to show you.” 

Skylar turns around and looks over him. “It’ll have to do a lot to top this place.” Fred just smiles and she joins him by his side, taking her arm again as they continue back to the path. 

The moment they do, a loud clap of thunder can be heard and that’s when the sky decides to open up and start to downpour on the two of them. The coldness of the rain against the warm temperature of the day makes Skylar shriek out. 

“Let’s go back inside!” Fred yells over the sound of the rain. Skylar just pulls on his arm, stilling them. 

“Come on you’ll get all muddy.” She keeps them frozen. Both getting drenched. 

“A little dirt never hurt anyone. Come on it’ll stop soon.” She laughs out, pulling on his arm so he spins. 

“You’re a strange one for sure.” Fred mutters to himself. Not really being bothered by the rain. An idea pops into Fred’s head when she sees her spin around him. He grabs the arm he formerly held, lighty, and pulls her close enough to wrap his hand around her waist. 

“This okay?” He says, hovering his hand an inch away from her waist, not wanting to assume he’d have permission. She gives him a sceptical look but nods her head anyways. He guides the hand that was still holding the apple to his shoulder and she drapes it across his back. 

He starts to waltz them around the grass, as best as he could with her clearly not knowing how to. “Here just let me lead.” He says when he notices her stiffness. 

“I’ve never danced before.” She says like she was confessing to a crime. 

“That’s why you follow me. It’s simple once you know what you’re doing.” Fred responds in the same tone. He gives her the same instructions his teacher gave him when he was learning to dance. Right, back, left, back and before he knew it they were dancing across the grass. He was so caught up in the moment he didn’t even notice the rain was starting to get lighter, before stopping altogether. He spins her around before grabbing her waist again and dips her down low to the ground. A few of her curls had sprung loose and just barely touched the grass. He pulled her back up with a bit too much force and she quickly grabbed onto his shoulder to stop herself from crashing against him. The apple that was in her hand goes flying across the lawn and he swears to himself. “Sorry about that.” He says before noticing just how close they are held together. He lets go of her waist and hand before muttering. “I’ll go grab that.”

With a swift curtsey to her he goes off to retrieve the lost apple. 

He finds it had rolled under a brush and grabs it quickly before jogging back over to Skylar. He gives a bow, holding the apple in his palm. When she goes to grab it, he snatches it away right before she makes contact with it. She groans. 

“Okay funny. Give it.” She giggles. A wonderful sound he deems in that moment. He holds it back out for her and the same thing, snatching it away at the last second so her hand grabs at air. Making both of them laugh this time. They do this a few more times.

“Fred. I’m not kidding, give it back!” She says through a fit of laughter. 

“Oh this little thing? Well if you want it so badly…” He trailed off before giving her a look, and just like that he took off. 

“Are you kidding me?” She shouts after him, before running to follow him. She struggles for a little bit, heels not agreeing with the soft grass after the rain. Luckily she didn’t lace them very tight and was able to slip them off pretty easily. With that she chucked the shoes, making a small mental note to grab those later to return to Fleur, hiked up the last few inches of her borrowed dress and started to really chase after Fred. Unfortunately, he already had a bit of a head start and was a good few inches taller. But Skylar spent years playing these types of games around the house. Granted, it had never been quite this much fun but the same principales still applied. 

Fred took a moment to slow down to look for her, expecting to hear her struggling and out of breath after chasing him. Before he knew it, he felt someone jump onto his back and a pair of arms wrapping under his shoulders. The surprise mixed with the slippery ground made him lose his footing, falling onto his back and something solid behind him. 

All he heard was a soft groan underneath him before he rolled onto his front, revealing a slightly frazzled looking Abigail. 

“Aren’t I supposed to be the one sweeping you off your feet?” Fred chuckled as he got himself up. Still laying on her back, Fred’s breath seemed to get caught in his throat just slightly. The chase had caused her cheeks to flush just a tad, and her hair framed her face in an unusual way as she stared up at the sky. 

“Need a hand?” He says, standing over her to offer her help up. Before he knew it, he felt his foot get kicked out from under him and he was laying opposite her on his back. 

He could hear her laughing up a storm as he processed what she had just done. He crawled over to besides her and joined her in looking up at the sky. The clouds had just started to part, letting a small amount of sunlight peak through the grey sky. 

“This is my favorite part of a storm.” She whispers before taking a deep breath. Her eyes close and Fred turns his head to look at her. He can’t help but wonder what's going on in her mind. To say she was unlike any girl he had never meant would be one, be the most cliche thing he had ever said, and twi, be wrong. She was so unlike anyone he had ever met before. Being around her was as comfortable as being around George. 

It took him a little bit to notice her eyes had opened up and she was studying him with the same curiosity he only guessed was on his own face. 

“What’s your favorite part?” He rasped, voice seeming to get stuck halfway in his throat. She smiles widely at him and his whole body melts at its warmth. 

“The smell. The way the clouds are still rolling across the sky, not exactly satisfied but content.” She takes a deep breath that makes her eyes crinkle up. “Just the way the whole world seems to be taking a collective breath and things seem okay for a moment.” 

“Cheesy.” He responds with a laugh. With that she sits up and scoffs at him. 

“I just give you the most poetic and mushy thing I think I’ve ever said and you dare pretend to not buy it.” She leans on her elbows, hair almost tickling the ground as she leans her head back to look at him. 

“Hey not my fault you don’t know you audience.” He lets his head fall back as he laughs at her hurt expression. After a few seconds of her not joining in, he notices her sitting still and intense look on her face. 

“Oh crap. Look I didn’t me..” 

“Ha” She bursts out. “Got’cha.” She finally laughs. “If I wanted someone to buy my sappy words I would tell it to the other ladies.” She gives him a tiny smile that she exhauerates by scrunching her nose up with it. 

They just sit in the grass for a while, saying a few things here and there. Simple questions with simple answers. It isn’t long until it starts to get a little chilly out and Abigail shutters at the drop in temperature. 

“It’s getting late, it’s probably almost dinner time. We should head back in.” He says, getting to his feet and brushing off the little bit of dirt before noticing the mud on his pants. 

He holds out a hand for Abigail, which she takes this time and he helps her to her feet. 

She looks down at her dress and groans. “Oh Fleur is going to kill me!” 

“Hey, a little dirt never hurt anyone.” Fred said with a smile at the earlier words spoken by the girl. She sticks her tongue out at him before returning the smile. 

The two walk back up to Skylars apartment, her hand wrapped around his arm. They swing back around to the place where she abandoned her shoes and sees them in better shape than her dress. 

They walk at a slightly slower pace, both seeming to not want to rush this part of the night. They finally get to the point where they are standing in front of her door and it’s time to say goodbye and go their separate ways for the night. 

The two just stand, looking at each other while they wait for the other to say something. For once, it’s a comfortable silence, like they are currently in their own little bubble and speaking would suddenly pop it and let the real world in. Not saying anything Fred takes her hand again and brings it up to his lips, looking her in the eye while doing so. 

Skylar suddenly feeling a little bit braver than she should, pulls her hand and him up to full height before twisting her hand and resting it against the side of his face. His skin is softer than she thought it would be, a slight bit of stubble could be felt starting to grow right against the skin of his lower cheek. She finds herself looking at his lips and Fred notices after a few seconds. His hand goes up to grab hers and he starts to pull her closer.

The door right in front of them swings open and that’s all it takes to pop whatever was left of their bubble. 

“Oh.” A surprised voice calls as the two snatch back their hands like a child caught in the cookie jar. Both of them are standing in front of a very surprised Minerva, both red as red can be. 

“There you are.” She looks Skylar up and down before clearing her throat. 

“I think I can handle it from here your majesty.” A while he is a whole head taller, she still manages to look down her nose at him with a stern face that tells him he is being dismissed. 

“Right.” His hand goes to his hair. “Goodnight.” 

“Night.” Is all the girl manages to say before she is pulled into her room by her forearm. 

George is sitting and waiting on the couch of their shared living room. 

“Well well, look who's back.” He says slinging one leg over the high back of the seat. Fred must still look a slight bit starstruck because when he sits down next to his brother he snaps his fingers in front of his face. “Merlin, what did she do to you mate, you look out of it.” 

Fred just rested his head in his hands. “I wish I could tell you.” He just sighs “Something feels right with her.” 

“I get it. Kinda. I guess.” George swings his leg back over, making Fred have to duck to avoid getting a foot to the head. “Just be careful. We’re about to be some deep shit soon.” 

“I know.” Fred groans. 

“I’m not saying don’t be happy obviously,” He holds his hands up in front of him. “Honestly, it’s good to see you so happy.” George nudges his brother. Who now seems to be lost in thought. “Come on, don’t get all broody. That’s my job.” Fred doesn’t really react. “I’’m sorry I shouldn’t have said anything.” He takes a pause trying to think of how to save his brother's good mood. “Tell me about her.” That catches Fred off guard and he can tell by his expression but slowly that dreamy look comes back and he starts telling him all about her.

Reblogging because the tag list got fucked

Taglist: @thoseofgreatambition @ickle-ronniekins @obsessedwithrandomthings-blog @harrysweasleys @kpopgirlbtssvt @shadowsinger11 @harrypotter289 @elf-punk @bitchywhisperswizard @wand3ringr0s3 @they-write-once-in-a-blue-moon @magical-spit @darlingdelacour @heart-of-tempered-steel @things-that-start-with-f @a-little-too-much @izzytheninja @m1rkw00dpr1ncess

[mari-lair]

NorRayEmma Tangled AU!

Things are a little different from the original Tangled. If curious, plot and character info are below the cut~

- James Ratri is the King of Neverland. He was the one that spent day and night trying to find a  magic flower to give to his sick Queen, Owl Minerva. Isabella, the most loyal and trusted of the guards was ordered to stay by his wife side, protecting her until James and the other guards came back with the magic flower.

- When the baby was born the royal family was faced with a shocking pair of red eyes, the intense color the exact shade of the magic flower. The baby, named Willian Minerva in honor of the queen survival, had absorbed some of the flower magic, for his eyes glowed in the dark and his tears had the capacity to heal.

- The king’s brother, Peter, is the one that kidnapped the prince. He initially tried to take the baby’s eyes and keep them as a substitute for the magic flower but the moment the eye disconnected from the baby head the magic was lost, the bright red turning sky blue. Peter managed to put the eye back later but the prince was left with a scar on his left eye. When he sings only the right eye glow brighter, and the few times he cried only the tears on the right hold the power to heal.

-Isabella died trying to protect Norman from Peter, considering her friend’s son a child of her own. She managed to gravely hurt the traitor leg and abdomen before kicking the bucket but unfortunately, Peter used the baby’s tears to heal himself completely.

- After the tragedy was over, everyone mourned the death of Isabella and the betrayal of Peter. The king ordered his guards to look left and right for his son, hoping to have hope restored. Peter was paranoic about the large search, so he moved to an isolated tower and changed Willian’s name to Norman.

- Norman loves to read and write. Peter gifted him books to keep him busy and entertained, unintentionally invested on the boy. All their meaningful conversations are about books and while Peter doesn’t mind the boy hobbies he still makes sure to only bring books where humanity is described as a horrible species. Ones where people with magic don’t get a happy ending.

-Norman dreams of going out and explore the world but he is wary of it. Listening to his father’s warnings and seeing how dangerous his situation is. If even the man who loved him dearly was practically obsessed with his magic, he doesn’t want to know what strangers would do to make him cry. He hasn’t given up on his dreams however so he learned how to control his tears. Words and stones will hurt him, but they can’t make him cry. Peter find this very troublesome, but thankfully a song is still enough to light up Norman’s eye and cure any fatigue, making him young again.

-Peter convinces Norman there are traps around the tower so he shouldn’t ever leave, it’s far too dangerous for a little kid! It takes time but Norman reluctantly agrees, getting more and more skeptical as the years go by.

- Ray, left with no parents after Isabella’s death, was adopted by the queen and king, both wanting their dear friend son to have a good life.

-Ray grew up in a place were everyone sung his dead mother praises. He had memories of warm gazes from both his biological mom and adoptive parents but he knew the king wanted his true kid back. He completely understood them, so he never attempted to study to be a king, waiting for the true heir to come back and fill in this hole his existence couldn’t.

-Ray is determined to be a royal guard, promising himself he would be strong, strong enough to prevent any possible tragedies from destroying his adoptive family again. He starts training to be a guard, a soldier. He grew to be the best in the castle, and while his dad is very proud, he knows Isabella used to be even better. Ray doesn’t mind his colleges' disappointment, he is well aware he cannot fill the hole Isabella’s death caused either, but he is scared he too will fail when his family needs him most.

- Emma works on an orphanage, has been living and helping around the place for all her life. Said orphanage is very poor so she collects fruits in the forest and steals bread and milk for the small children. She steals very little from a wide variety of locations, not wanting to actually prejudice any family. Most of the time people don't even see her, but other times she gets in fights.

- One day, she gets in a bad fight, probably would have died if a tired guard in training hasn't stopped the commotion, forcing her to return the food and giving two breads of his own to appease her yelling stomach. She said  her thanks but the guard waved her off.

- Times passes, her usual targets start to get wary so she is forced to expand her territory. Emma isn't sure where she should target until she sees a huge amount of sweets get delivered to the castle and decides to steals it for her little sister birthday. It’s not that hard to sneak past all the lazy guards and she always gets tasty rewards! So she keeps coming back.

- Despite not going much to the kitchen, Ray scary memory is enough to make him notice the foods and little items that Emma stole. He keeps his eyes open for any cheeky cook or skillful thief, eventually spotting Emma with a slice of his favorite cake. He recognizes her as the thief he saved a while back but he is so annoyed he almost cuts her hand off. Emma also recognize him but she decides to gets the hell away from the castle, apologizing "I didn't knew it was your birthday cake!! I am sorry!" and crying dramatically. Ragged looks and terrible diet aside, she proved herself to be far quicker than Ray, maneuvering pass him and promising to make it up too him.

-The next day there is a homemade cookie in his window with a badly written 'happy birthday' in it. It’s the cheap, no chocolate or honey kind of cookie, terrible when compared to the rich cakes he always get but...Not that bad... Ray half expect it to be poisoned but it's clearly not... He doesn't know what to make of it.

-She keeps coming, making sure to not get greedy and only picking the easy stuff. It’s a game. Ray tries his best to catch her but doesn't actually grab her when he has the opportunity. She started to like their interaction, teasing the boy and considering him her friend. Ray reluctantly think she is okay too and leave food by the window once or twice, smiling on the rare occasions another of those horribles cookies are placed in his window. Queen Owl and King James notice their interactions but pretend to be ignorant, happy Ray got a friend.

- This strange friendship they have it’s wonderful, or it was until Emma stole the prince crown.

-It was a tough choice. She felt bad for the King and Queen, silently apologizing to Ray too, but not giving the crown back. The prince probably won’t come back anyway and with this crown, she’ll get enough money to make sure her broken down orphanage, her home, doesn’t get demolished for a stupid shoe store.

- Ray runs after her, this time truly angry. That was the only thing left from the prince! His parents will be heartbroken! He orders the other guards to surround the city orphanages while he searchs for the girl, willing to play dirty if it came to it.

-After a lot of running, Emma finds the tower Norman is kept and decides to hide in there. Ray discovers the tower too and follows Emma, ready to threaten her with her siblings' safety in exchange for the crown. He doesn't expect to see the thief unconscious while a beautiful boy with a thick encyclopedia tucked under his arms drag her under a bed. Ray warily raises his sword, surprised by how much Norman resembles his dad, from the unusual white hair to the blue eye...It was identical to the king.

- Norman has a bad opinion of guards, trusting his books and convinced they hunt down magic people and torture them. But he also knows they’re very good at fighting and can be good shields, perfect to help him cross the supposed traps around the tower. So he hides his fear and acts relieved to see the boy in armor, stating he was hiding from thieves. When asked about his scarred eye Norman made up a story about thieves using violence to get his money, the cut was so deep he couldn’t save his left eye, so he used a substitute.

-Ray know something isn’t quite right with Norman’s story, in fact, he is pretty sure the boy, this younger version of James, is the missing ‘cute angel with red eyes’ his adoptive parents talk all the time about.

-When asked about the missing prince Norman looks genuinely confused, trying to hide behind a little smile and stating his dad Peter never talked about this missing prince.

-Peter hum? That’s either a very strange stream of coincidences or Ray just found the missing prince. That’s the only reason he accepts to escort this very suspicious ‘Norman’ to the city, trading Emma unconscious body (crown included) in return for his service as an escort. The guard ties Emma up and they both leave the tower, keeping an eye on each other. It may look harmless, but Ray knows Norman can do a lot of damage with the encyclopedia he insisted on taking with him.

-Norman tries to act neutral and focus only on finding traps but he doesn’t quite manage. His eyes light up in wonder over everything, spending a little too long rubbing his feet on the grass and trailing his fingers over tree barks. Ray just slowed down whenever Norman took a detour, finding it oddly adorable to see this boy that exude grace discreetly grab dirt from the ground and mumble “Fascinating...” when the dirt rocks dissolve into sand. It’s strange. Underneath his fondness, Ray can’t help but feel sad. If even dirt amazes Norman, he truly must have never left his tower in the 16 years the prince was kidnapped...

- It doesn’t take long for Norman to notice his father lied, there are no traps around the tower. It takes even less time to see Ray may suffer from resting bitch face syndrome but he is pretty nice. So Norman tries to actually speak with Ray, ask about his job and Emma situation. It’s a pleasant but mostly quiet conversation where Ray explains his routine in an unenthusiastic tone and Norman feel increasingly more fascinated by the outside world, feeling betrayed by his books and his father.

- Ray let him touch his hair and examine his armor. It's nice...And it only gets better when  Emma wakes up.

- She whines about her situation for a full minute, glaring and getting in a loud argument with Ray before feeling someone touch her hair antenna. If she wasn't tied down, she would have jumped, finally noticing an amused Norman by her side and then proceeding to gasp "You are the one that knocked me down aren't you??".

[ratsmagnumdong]

Head Over Heels (Severus Snape X Reader)

SUMMARY: Delivering Minerva's gift to Severus leads to more discussions.

WARNINGS: None

LENGTH: 3098

NOTES: I know this chapter is updated super, super late... Honestly, I only recently had the motivation to write a chapter, so here it is. I'm very rusty at writing so I apologize if this isn't too good. I feel like my Severus Snape is a bit out of character so I'm trying to get used to writing for him! Possible Chapter 3 if I could think of what to write? :)

1

---

What if he’s sleeping? What if he’s busy? What if he’s not even in his chambers? What if he didn’t want to see you? Oh god, why did Minerva make you do this-

The door swung open to reveal the very man you were overthinking about. His expression screamed irritation and annoyance, “What in God’s name is so important at this hour - oh… Iris...” his tone shifted to a somewhat sheepish when he realized it was you.

Oh gods, you hoped that you hadn’t woken him. But his apparel wasn’t pajamas, so you assumed he hadn’t been. It seems he had discarded his frock coat and cape, instead wearing his usual black slacks with a white button up… What would Severus wear to sleep? An all black two piece? Or perhaps a night shirt? A onesie- oh that would be an absolute sight… Naked? Oh man-

“What brings you to my chambers at this hour?” Severus questioned, regaining his composure as he peered down at you with a single raised eyebrow.

“My apologies if I’ve intruded on your night, but, uh,” you lifted the bottle of wine to him. “‘Minerva asked if I can deliver this to you.”

He stared at the offered bottle of wine for a moment before gently taking it from your hands. He examined it, a small frown etched on his lips. Though, you’ve learned that seemed to be Severus’ normal everyday expression.

When he didn’t seem to say anything, you cleared your throat and began fidgeting with your now unoccupied hands. “She said it was an end of the year gift,” you explained.

He snorted, eyebrow now raised in amusement as he stared at the label on the bottle. “And she made you deliver it at the dead of night?” He then raised his eyes to meet yours.

His piercing gaze made you squirm at the spot you stood. “It was convenient. I was talking to her and she asked if I could do her a favour,” you cracked a sweet smile, managing to maintain eye contact with the much taller man.

“It’s nearly midnight. What could you possibly be talking about?” He leaned against the doorway, bottle still being held delicately with those wonderful hands you seemed to find yourself admiring more often.

A soft laugh escaped from your lips. “We were having our monthly meeting. It usually doesn’t last this long… guess we lost track of time,” you scratched the back of your neck, feeling almost like a teenager being scolded for being out after curfew.

His long, slender fingers ran up and down the neck of the wine bottle. “I see… well… I’ll give her my gratitude when I see her,” his voice was very gentle, almost like silk.

His voice was like music to your ears. It never failed to make you feel warm and safe whenever he spoke to you. It was like a blanket wrapping around you to envelope you in a comforting warmth.

“... is there anything else you need, Iris?”

You both had been standing in the dungeon corridors talking to each other for an awkward amount of time. “Oh, uh… well, there is this one thing… but it can wait until you aren’t busy,” you stammered out, not wanting to disturb his night even more.

“I’m not busy,” he responded without missing a beat. He cast his eyes down to the floor for a brief moment, almost as if he seemed embarrassed for sounding so eager.

“Oh.”

He moved aside to let you through the doorway, an unspoken invitation to enter. When you quickly stepped inside, he looked both ways down the corridor before shutting the wooden door with a quiet click when locked.

“I apologize for the mess… I wasn’t expecting guests.”

You looked around his living quarters to find it… well. As how you expected Severus would manage his room. It was absolutely spotless, everything in its own organized spot. It was almost as if nothing was out of place. What could he possibly be apologizing for?

“Severus, it’s absolutely pristine in here,” you laughed softly. His name flowed off your tongue so smoothly, so sweetly… just like honey.

He didn’t respond to that, instead deciding to ask, “What is it that you needed?” He watched you for a moment; you had immediately been attracted to the large bookshelf that nearly took up the entire wall.

You examined the books resting on the shelf, a pleased smile gracing your lips. You ran your fingers up and down the spines of certain books, enjoying the variety of textures. “Oh, uh, well… it has to do with the Slytherin boys,” you turned your head to look at the Potions Master.

He had apparently silently made his way to his desk during the time you were admiring his books. “What have they done now?” He sighed, expression immediately turning exasperated.

You joined him at his desk, sitting at the cushioned seat across from him. You opened your mouth, but shut it moments after when you found yourself stuttering. Severus waited patiently, eyebrow raised and hands clasped together on the desk.

“Well, uh, it’s… it’s sort of hard to say,” you explained, thumbs twiddling together nervously. “I think you need to teach the boys on… uh, manners.”

And with that, Severus looked confused. “What do you mean?”

“It’s just- ever since I started teaching here, I hear a lot of… rude comments from the Slytherin boys,” you leaned forward in your seat. “I usually am the bigger person and ignore it, but I think it’s rather degrading when it’s my own house.”

Severus stared for a moment, clearly in thought before he let out an exasperated sigh, hands moving to rub his temples. “... I would like to give my sincerest apologies on behalf of my house. I would like to think I taught them well, but apparently not.” He clasped his hands back together and rested them on the desk, giving you the softest of expressions.

Being under the state of such a soft expression from the feared Severus Snape made you feel absolutely blessed. A warmth began to rise in your cheeks, casting your eyes down to your lap bashfully. This man was so sweet and sincere yet others say otherwise.

“I try to educate them what their parents so obviously didn’t teach them… I’ve never had to deal with those imbeciles harassing a professor,” he explained, eyes still on yours.

“After all, you’re quite young,” he said quietly.

That caught your attention, eyes snapping up to meet his. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He better not be implying that you being young- wait, wasn’t he only in his 30’s-

“Well, considering how old the other professors are… I think they find you most appealing,” he spoke truthfully. He wondered if what he said would offend you.

There was an overbearing silence filling the room. Severus thought he had indeed offended you and was about to apologize for his comments, but what came out your mouth next surprised him.

“Do you think the boys find me appealing or do you find me appealing?”

The question left another silence took over the room. You both stared at each other, not breaking that contact. It felt like forever before he answered.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” he mumbled, finally breaking eye contact and looking down to his hands briefly.

“Oh,” was all you could really say.

There was disappointment, obviously. You would have really liked- loved if he admitted he did find you appealing and cue stereotypical romantic moment, but sadly, this wasn’t a movie or novel but real life.

“... I would like to believe you have this natural charm towards you that I can’t quite explain,” he furrowed his brows, as if a little confused. “... if you want flattery, then I find you the most tolerable at this school.”

Well, you’ll take what you can get. Knowing Severus, he isn’t very good with compliments.

“Wow, you sure know how to woo a woman, Severus,” you teased, rolling your eyes, but a smile still managing to creep its way up on your lips.

He clearly wasn’t quite used to teasing as a little colour began to form on his pale, sallow cheeks. “Truth he told, Iris, you confuse me,” he confessed.

It was your turn to raise an eyebrow.

When you didn’t respond, Severus sighed. “Not many enjoy my company. In fact, many absolutely despise me. But you… you almost seem to seek my company. And you enjoy it… Why is that?” He was now staring at you quite intensely, a look you couldn’t quite describe.

It was no secret that Severus was your favourite among the other professors. Yes, of course you loved Minerva and Sprout with your entire heart, but... Severus was different. He has his flaws, but who doesn’t have any?

It was almost like a duckling imprinting. You kind of just stuck with Severus ever since you met. Despite what others said, you found the man to have a comfortable presence. You enjoyed the time you spent with him; the conversations during dinner, subtle smiles (It was usually you smiling while Severus gave a curt nod.) when passing in the hallway, spending time in his classroom, it was all so enjoyable. And of course, there was the fact that you managed to grow a gigantic crush on the man.

“Is it such a crime to enjoy your company?” You said softly, looking into the other’s onyx eyes.

An uncomfortable silence filled the air. It was clear Severus wasn’t sure what to say. After a few thoughtful moments, he cast his eyes downwards and cleared his throat. “It just sort of baffles me on why you enjoy me so much.”

Because I like you, stupid.

“Maybe you have some sort of natural charm too,” you quoted what he had said earlier, a teasing smile growing on your lips.

The tension seemed to lift from the air when Severus rolled his eyes, letting out the quietest of chuckles from your teasing. “Oh, shut up,” he finally looked up to meet eyes once more. “I am the least likely person with charm.”

A laugh escaped your lips, leaning forward to the desk and resting your chin against your hand. “Oh Severus, I think you’re wrong. You charmed me the moment I met you,” you admitted, eyes admiring the man in front of you.

Where the sudden boldness came from, you had no idea. But it was definitely worth it when a subtle pink developed on those pale cheeks of his.

“How much have you had to drink tonight?” A bashful smile etched on his lips, trying to look anywhere else besides your soft eyes that seemed to be staring at him with absolute adoration. He wasn’t used to attention like this, but he didn’t mind at all if it was coming from you.

“I’m being serious, Severus! You have some kind of charm that I can’t quite put my finger on,” you smiled sweetly, biting your lip.

When he seemed too flustered to respond, you added, “You kind of give off a bad boy vibe, ya know?”

And with that, Severus let out a sudden snort of laughter. “Bad boy vibe?! Now you’re being ridiculous!” He leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms.

You grinned, standing up and walking around the desk to him. “No, I’m serious! Look at you,” you looked the man up and down. “You constantly wear black, you're always brooding- have you heard the snarky remarks you make? Oh, not to mention your nails,” you reached down to grab his hand that rested on the armrest. “You paint your nails black for Merlin’s sake!” You laughed gently, playing with his long, slender fingers for a moment.

“I’ll have you know that I enjoy my painted nails,” Severus stated defensively, watching your much smaller hand fiddle with his own.

“I know. I think it’s cute."

Severus couldn’t hide the tiny smile that etched onto his lips when you said this.

You circled the seat he sat in for a moment before planting yourself right behind him, hands coming to rest on his shoulders and squeezing gently. “Not to mention your hair,” you gently twirled a strand of his jet black hair around your fingers.

Severus let out a soft breath, allowing himself to relax and let himself sink into the cushioned seat. “What about my hair?” He asked softly, head leaning back slightly to look up at you.

At the sight of his relaxed, soft eyes, you seemed to melt. You knew Severus wasn’t a man who relaxed much. He was always stressed about all sorts of stuff. Whether it was about school, students, or whatever, he was always so stressed. He was always so tense and rigid. So it was quite a sight to see the man almost seemed to loosen up just from your touch.

“I think it’s nice,” you whispered softly, continuing to play with long strands of his hair. Students always called it greasy. But it surprisingly wasn’t. At least right now it wasn’t. “It’s quite soft… oh, and smells good- in a totally non-creepy way of course,” you added, smiling awkwardly down at him.

He did smell nice though. You couldn’t exactly pinpoint the scent. It was… earthy. Mint? Pine? No, that’s not it-

“I understand. I have a somewhat... intense hair routine,” he stated, shutting his eyes and taking in this relaxing moment. “I make potions for a living. Standing over a steaming cauldron all day is not good for my hair- anyone’s hair for that matter. I sort of have to take care of my hair,” he explained.

You nodded in understanding, staring down at the man and taking advantage of the fact the man’s eyes were closed. You admired his features and smiled dreamily. The fireplace on the opposite side of the room crackled, swaying flames casting shadows across his face.

Severus looked absolutely stunning sitting here. You really didn’t understand the things that people said about Severus. You absolutely adored this man; why didn’t others?

“It’s quite annoying when people describe my hair as… greasy. I’m a Potions Professor for Merlin’s sake. I don’t know what they expect,” he mumbled, eyebrows furrowing in frustration.

“What kind of shampoo do you use?” You decided to try and steer away from his frustrations.

You saw Severus visibly tense when you decided to take it a step further, fingers running through his hair. You paused, looking down at him for permission to continue. After a few moments, he opened his eyes and let out a soft breath.

“Eucalyptus,” he said softly, staring up into your eyes. He relaxed back into his seat, shoulders no longer rigid. You took this as permission, continuing your actions.

You never expected to see the feared Professor Snape so vulnerable. In fact, you didn’t even expect to get this close to him. To think back on when you first met him and now, it’s quite shocking on how close the both of you have gotten. You were happy you were the one who was able to get past that rough exterior of his and become friends with him.

“It smells wonderful,” you whispered softly, fingers running through his soft hair ever so gently.

Severus eyes searched your face for a moment. You watched as he slowly brought a hand up to your cheek. He was very close to cupping your cheek, but he hesitated and almost looked scared to touch you.

You decided to take initiative and leaned into his gentle touch, cheek being cupped by his warm hand. You reached up and gently placed your own hand against his.

For that moment, you felt like nothing around you mattered besides him . Like time stood still and it was just the two of you. Just you and Severus. Oh, you wished it could be like this all the time.

His thumb gently caressed your cheek. “... Iris… I..,” he began in a soft spoken voice. He watched your look of anticipation. Was that… a look of hope?

Severus looked thoughtful for a moment, clearly having some mental debate. He let out a deep sigh and averted his eyes, looking towards the clock on his desk. “... It’s getting quite late. You must be tired,” he said quietly, removing his hand from your cheek.

No, you’re not tired! You want this to continue!

He clearly didn’t see the disappointment that grew upon your face. “Right. You must be tired too. Uh. I suppose I’ll take my leave then,” you huffed a bit, pouting like a child who hasn’t gotten their way. All that confidence from earlier seemed to go down the drain and you suddenly felt very… stupid … to think you had a chance with this man.

“Thank you for bringing the harassment to my attention.” Severus stood up, smoothing his pants out and turning to you. He himself looked a bit disheartened that you were retiring for the night.

For a moment, you totally forgot the entire reason you had come to him. “Oh. Of course,” you shuffled awkwardly where you stood and rubbed your arm. “Thank you for handling it.”

An uncomfortable tension filled the air once more. You couldn’t bear it. You sighed and made your way to the door. “Enjoy your night Severus,” you opened the door and looked back at him. “Maybe we could do something over the break?”

He stood there, blinking and processing what you said. “Oh. Yes. I was planning to head home, but if you still would like to do something, I’m perfectly happy to accept,” he nodded his head, hands behind his back.

Home? For some reason, you didn’t think Severus had… an actual house. You sort of assumed he lived in the castle like some of the other professors.

“Oh wonderful,” a small smile grew on your face. “I’d love that. I’ll owl you! Goodnight Severus!” You seemed far too ecstatic to spend time with him but at this point, you could care less. You gave him one last wave (He gave a curt nod back) before leaving his chambers.

As soon as that wooden door shut, you let out a quiet breath of relief you were holding in. You held a hand to your heart to feel it beating slightly faster than usual. You tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear, the soft smile that began to grow on your lips was inevitable.

Oh boy, you were head over heels for this man.

[lunermagick-sims4]

Griselda’s Story Part 16

  It is the first day back to school and Griselda feels nervous. It has been a whole summer away from the drama and she is not ready to face all those students who use to make fun of her hair. Her hair is longer now compared to what it was in the spring. Griselda got showered, applied her make up and found a sweet dress for her first day. It was warm but cool all at the same time. Fall can be funny weather sometimes. Griselda went around checking her plants before leaving and making sure Storm and Luna had their special food. Storm was still not sure of Luna, he was not a fan of her yet.  Griselda was hoping they would get along eventually. She grabbed herself a blood bag for breakfast, it tasted so good going down. Griselda has not feed off a sim in a long time, she fells pretty proud of herself, but she still like the taste of warm fresh blood better. She knows it is a better idea to use the blood bags than obtaining it from the Sims.  It was 8 o’clock and time to leave the house to head of to high school, her last season of school. She took off on her broom and landed away from the school. She put her broom away into her summon place and took a deep breath and started toward the school. Gemma was there waiting for her at the steps. “Hey Gemma!” Gemma looked her way and smiled. “I am so nervous,” Gemma said. She had washed out pants and a cute purple top. Probably not appropriate for school but she will get away with it. Griselda and Gemma were walking down the hall when a classmate stopped and whistled at Griselda. “Your looking fine, Griselda.” Griselda blushed, it made her day to know she looked fine. Gemma laughed and the two split up to head toward their classes. When she got to her first class the teacher seem to be in her own world. The teacher announced, “Griselda will be teaching the class.” She walked out of the class and left Griselda scrambling to get herself prepared. Griselda wanted to teach it a little different but she thought it would be a little safer to go with what the teacher had laid out. She started off as soon as the bell rang trying to get the classes attention but could not get no one to listen to her. She was becoming disappointed in herself. She figured a teaching job was not in her future. After school Griselda and Gemma went back to Minerva place. Griselda and Gemma had been talking about moving in with each other. It would help Griselda with bills and Gemma could finally be on her own.  The house felt full with Darryl and Emilie and she just needed some space from her family.

When they got to Minerva, Darryl was working and Emilie was still sleeping since she worked nights at the bar. Gemma and Griselda went upstairs. “How you liking my old room?” Gemma shrugged. “It quiet but be better if you were still here.” Griselda smiled at her. “Hey your old room has been made into a baby’s room. Someday you will be a aunt.” Gemma smiled. “Yea someday. Nothing yet.” The girls came down and found Minerva in the living room. Gemma sat down and started to talk, “Mom can I talk to you?” Minerva was a wise women she knew something was up. “Sure dear, What is it?” Gemma got up the strength to ask the question that has been on her mind.  Griselda was surprised she was going to go through with it. “Can I move in with Griselda?” Minerva looked like she was taken back. “Why?” Gemma took a deep breath and started. “Well I want to be with my best friend and I am going to be a young adult by the end of this season. I want thinking l may give it a try now.” Minerva though about it for a bit. “If this is what you need.” Gemma cut in. “You have Emilie here to help you and I will miss you mom, but I just feel like I need to do this.” Minerva smiled. “You can move in with Griselda, Gemma, but I want to give you two thousand dollars to help you guys but after that you will need to get a job. Griselda works every evening during the week.” Gemma looked at Griselda, “I know and I am planning on getting a job, I am looking into this film job. It is in the evening so I could work after school!” She then hugged her mother. Griselda was happy she would be having a roommate. Sometimes it gets a little lonely even with  Storm and Luna keeping her company. The girls left to go home to get started at their homework right away. Griselda wanted to get it done before she had to go to work. Gemma went to see about the film job which she got hired and would be able to start to work tomorrow after school.

After a long day of getting all Gemma stuff she needed moved in, which seemed to be more clothes then anything else, the girls were wiped from the day. Griselda was finding school this time better than she thought it was going to be.  It seems the bullies had grown up over the summer and she was becoming part of the popular crowd. Caleb seemed very happy with his job and she texted with him for awhile.  He was telling her all the different things he did at his job and she was happy for him. He was starting lower down the scale then he wanted but he said he would be able to work his way up. Griselda’s job was starting to get old for her. She was getting tired of scanning returns and the boss was getting a little upset with her for taking items backs without a receipt. She was thinking it may be time for her to try something new, but right now it could be too big a step to take.  She felt she needed to focus on getting through the first week of school and maybe think about changing jobs a little later on. Griselda was missing Caleb lately since they barely had time to see each other much. He is usually always working and Griselda has been using all her spare time looking into finding out what happened to her parents. She believes if her and Caleb’s relationship is strong enough they will find their way through it. Gemma had already gone off to sleep and Griselda was still  texting away to Caleb. Griselda barely got tired much anymore,  she could stay up all night and  could be ready for school the next day without any issues but she figures she better get some sleep. She said goodnight to Caleb and crawled into bed with Gemma.  There is only one bedroom in the house and there was enough room for a double bed for them to share. Which neither of them minded.

It was finally Friday so Griselda decided to take It off to go to Strangerville to do some investigating. The girls were having breakfast and Gemma was talking about a girl she met in class by the named of Leanne Eichman, she was a witch as well. She wanted Griselda to met her. “You will like her. She is very nice.” Griselda was happy Gemma had another friend to hang out with today. Once they were done eating Griselda went for a shower since Gemma was all ready for the day. Gemma was sitting there knitting as it was something she liked to do, she was working on a baby hat. She told Griselda it was a gift for her new niece, nephew or Griselda’s baby maybe someday. Griselda laughed at her and went to get in the shower.

Griselda is really sad that Storm is still being mean to Luna. He is hissing at her and just gives her a cold shoulder. Poor little thing, was alone living in a creepy lab and now her roommate will have nothing to do with her. Griselda tries hard to give them both the same amount of love. She is making sure Storm does not feel left out, but he has been alone for a long time,  it probably is odd to have to share space in this small house with anyone.  Hopefully they will become friends sooner or later.

When Griselda came out of the bathroom Gemma had already left for school. Griselda found something cute to wear today and headed off to Strangerville. She needed to get chummy with some of the military personnel so she could get a key card for the door at the lab and the best place to met people is at the bar. Griselda flew down to the ground and started in to the building. There were lots of people there. She saw a women with blue hair in a military outfit. She thought to herself that she looks like a nice place to start,  I will grab a drink first. Griselda went to order a rum and coke at the bar and started over to where the blue hair women was sitting. “Hi, I am Griselda.” The blue hair women looked her up and down. “Hi my name is Valerie. I have been seeing

you around here lately.” Griselda was impressed she had noticed. “Yea, I am trying to figure out what happened to my parents. They died her in this town.” Her face seem to soften. “I see. Strange things do happened here.” Griselda nodded and took a sip of her drink. “Seems to be all at that lab out there.” Valerie was shocked. “How do you know about the lab?” Griselda told her that is was where her parents died and was found. “I remember that night. I am sorry for your parents but you should not be hanging around there. It is very dangerous obviously as something happened that killed your parents. Why would you go to such a place?” Griselda was determined to get this key and make her see why she had to. “I need to know what happened to my parents. I do not care if it is dangerous. I was a kid when they left me behind and I do not want any other child being left without parents. I am determined to find out what is going on. Wouldn’t you want to know if it were your parents?Valerie thought about it for a moment sipping her drink. “Your right. Come outside with me.” They started outside to leave. Once they were outside and no one was around she turned to Griselda. “Here.” She handed Griselda a key card. “I should not do this but if it was my parents I would want to know so I am trusting you to figure out what is going on out there.” Griselda nodded. “Thank you. I will try my best.”

Griselda was happy to have the card and she started for to the lab.  She tried it on the door scanner and it opened there was red little spore in the air and there was a set of stairs to go down. Griselda headed toward the stairs and come down to a tunnels. One hallway had more spores and a purplelish hues. Griselda figured this was a start but she was going to need some proper gear to explore more.

[dj-yukio]

AO3 link

Descent Chapter 1

Leave before they notice and maybe then

you can avoid heartbreak.

/

She was 4 years old.

Everyday, ever since Lisa could remember, it was the same thing. Papa would go to work, she’ll stay at home with mama until papa came back home with a new toy or doll he’d just made. Then it would repeat. And the process would restart the next day, even when her toy chest was overfilled. Papa would simply just chuckle and get her a new box, showing her how the pieces of wood and metal came together to become a new toy chest, and mama would simply shake her head with an amused smile at the two of them.

That was the simple life of Lisa Beck, and she wouldn’t change it for the world. Her family was the epitome of a happy family, and she loved her parents and they loved her, so why would she change anything about this life that she loved?

Unfortunately, change wasn’t up to the young child, and came in the form of young gentleman with a suit and shiny hair.

He was just visiting, here to check up on them. He brought fresh flowers which he would present to mama that would decorate the table for a week. She didn’t know much about him, aside from the fact that he helped papa through some problems with his job when she was a baby, and he was invited to her birthday parties. The pair of teeth sticking out of his mouth only added to his friendly appearance, and she found herself excited to make friends with him. After all, if he was papa’s friend, then that meant that he was a good man, which meant that he could be Lisa’s friend.

That was the logic of a young child, never seeing the ill intents of man with their innocent eyes. There was no reason to anyway, not when she had known him for so long.

But time means nothing to a facade.

She called him Mr Riley, and it was always with a warm smile that she greeted him with, a small toy in her embrace before she ran off in the opposite direction. It was always like that without fail, and the one time she turned around too slowly, Mr Riley’s face contorted into a frown before smiling again.

Maybe if she was a little older, or more mature, she would have thought more into that little action.

Or at least, now that she looked back at it, the thousands of tiny actions that he did.

The flowers. The flattery. The gifts to mama, and only mama. Papa’s uncomfortable look before being replaced by his usual grin. Mama’s shifting eyes. All of Mr Riley’s visits.

And then there were the arguments between papa and mama when they thought she was asleep.

They seemed small, but now that she could think more deeply into it, there seemed to be a common root into all their arguments.

That was, an indirect comparison to Mr Riley.

Papa wasn’t as eloquent a speaker as Mr Riley. Papa wasn’t as concerned about his attire as Mr Riley. Papa wasn’t as smart as Mr Riley.

And papa would only deeply sigh, and their arguments became one-sided as he would never respond.

And the next day following each argument, she would actively try to be more funny, to loosen up the invisible tension that kept growing thicker despite her best efforts. But they worked somewhat, so she kept doing her best to make them happy with her antics until both papa and mama smiled, even as their arguments got worse.

Of course, that wasn’t the final nail on the head.

“Minerva Arms Factory?”

This was.

Mr Riley was showing papa some documents while she was playing with her dolls. Papa scratched his chin as he took the documents. She stopped playing as Mr Riley gave some really complicated speech on the factory that he was selling which papa seemed to understand.

Mama didn’t say anything other than a quick statement that maybe buying a clothing factory would be more beneficial than making weaponry. Papa didn’t listen, and Mr Riley seemed to be genuinely beaming as he walked out of their house with papa’s signature.

Lisa didn’t blame papa for not knowing what was about to happen when the day came and she saw mama place something in their drinks. It was a white powder, and she walked up to mama as she glanced between the spiked drinks and her.

“What’s that?”

Mama jerked, looking horrified at the notion that she was caught before replacing it with a smile.

“Just sugar. I wanted to make today’s drinks a little sweeter.”

And the young girl was content with that answer, and didn’t question the sneaky nature of the whole act when she should have.

How else could she have known that they were sleeping pills and not sugar?

The only thing that stopped her from falling to the vices of the pills was the sickened gut feeling that told her that something bad was going to happen when the tea was indeed a lot sweeter, as if mama had completely misjudged the amount of sugar the drink needed.

Probably to make up for the bitter aftertaste that was to come.

She could tell from how quickly his loud snores came that papa had fallen asleep, but Lisa fought against the drowsiness that was creeping up on her. Her gut was telling her that she needed to stay awake, because this tiredness wasn’t normal, which meant something was happening.

Lisa prayed that she was wrong, but it only got worse when she saw a shadow appear from the hallway, with soft thumps that hesitated occasionally before moving on, as if to avoid the creaky old planks of the house. She closed her eyes as tightly, hoping that this intruder wouldn’t find her.

The soft thumps got closer to her bed, and she was about to scream bloody murder when a soft hand patted her face. Then the feeling of lips pressed onto her cheek, which finally prompted her to open her eyes.

“Mama?”

The hand on her face jolted, and under the moonlight from the window, Lisa could see mama’s panicked face. Mama’s eyes darted around, before she quickly placed a finger over her lips to tell her to be silent before muttering a word she would come to hate in the future.

“...sorry.”

Lisa respected that silent request as mama sneaked away, mostly because even she couldn’t comprehend what was happening. That didn’t stop the her stomach from falling as she stayed motionless in her bed, unsure of what she should do. Should she wake papa up? Should she try to ask mama to stay? Or should she follow mama?

Lisa didn’t sleep that night, and she didn’t do anything either.

Only when papa roared in rage as he broke some furniture in his room before finally breaking down and sobbing did she finally get out of bed to give him a hug.

[the-walking-memelords]

Allegiances: Chapter 11

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 |Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 12

Series is rated M

Word Count: 3420

Clementine owes them an explaination.

Read it on Ao3!

Read it on Wattpad!

Clementine’s back felt stiff as she shifted in her seat. She looked around through blurred vision, trying to determine her surroundings as she slowly regained her senses.

Where am I?

A single window cast rays of the early morning sun across the basement, reflecting against the aged metal pipes. Memories of the previous night’s events flashed before her eyes as the girl shot upright. Her body ached in protest at the sharp movement and her limbs refused to move an inch from where she sat. Clementine struggled against the tape that tightly bound her arms and legs to the desk chair. Her efforts were in vain as the old wooden chair rocked from side to side yet refused to break.

“That ain’t gonna work.” A familiar gravely voice echoed through the dim basement.

Clem felt her blood ran cold as she noticed Abel on the other side of the room, restrained similarly to herself. A small puddle of blood stained the floor below his twisted leg, his pant leg drenched in the long-dried liquid. He flashed a crooked grin at her through his somewhat laboured breathing, clearly still in pain.

Clementine was too disgusted with the fact that he was still alive to find the words to express it. Ignoring him, she continued to pull at the tape. It’s sticky grip refused to release her as she pulled and wiggled, only continuing to exhaust herself.

A low growl sounded over the ruckus she had made. She swung her curls out of her face as she turned back to see the school’s guard dog eyeing her from next to the boiler. Rosie’s chain scratched against the concrete floor as she shifted around.

Clementine froze as she made eye contact with the canine. Abel’s laugh made her stomach turn as it sunk in how fucked she probably was.

“Even if you got out of that chair you’d never make it past the mutt.” He chuckled.

“Guess that means you’re stuck here with my ugly face.”

“Fuck off.” She said weakly, defeat continuing to wash over her as she slumped back. Her body was terribly stiff and sore and not being able to stretch out made it a whole lot worse.

“Aw, c’mon, don’t be like that.” He teased.

“Maybe this could be a chance for a little… heart-to-heart chat.”

The way he looked at her made her skin crawl. The look in his different coloured eyes always made him look as if he had some kind of ulterior motive than what he claimed.

“Don’t… Don’t fucking say anything.” Clem could make as many demands as she wanted, but it wasn’t like there was anything she could do to stop him.

“Oh, but I got a lot to say to you, sunshine.” He smirked, watching her cringe at the nickname.

“Like about that shit you pulled that got us into this mess. I’d say I got a few burning questions for you.”

“I’ve got nothing to say to you, you son of a bitch.” She growled, wanting nothing more than to slink into the shadows. Anywhere where he couldn’t see her. The feeling of his eyes on her made her skin burn as if he was touching her without being near. A simple glance made her feel disgusting and small and even though they both sat restrained, the feeling of vulnerability swirled inside of her.

“I’m just wondering what made you finally snap and abandon us like that.” He spoke accusingly as if she was the villain here.

Clementine dug her nails into her palms, squeezing her eyes shut as she tried to ignore him.

“We kept you and your boy warm and fed for the last couple years. All we asked in return was for you to help defend our home.” He worded it as if any of this was a choice for her.

“And now? Yonatan is dead, we are hostages, and that little brat of yours is going to experience a whole new world of hell.”

She grit her teeth hard, biting back any reaction. Clem wanted to scream, attack him, claw those horrible eyes out of his skull.

Just stop looking at me.

“I told Lilly there was something going on with you, but I’ll be damned if she ever listens to me.” He shook his head.

“Although I expected some resistance from you, I didn’t think you’d turn these little shits into an army of your own.”

“Fuck you.”

“You gave up on that kid, huh? Took longer than I thought it would.” His accusation burned in her chest.

“A shame, really. So many people died for him to live and you’re just going to quit on him?”

“Shut the fuck up!” Clementine began to raise her voice. He was wrong. He didn’t know her at all. This was all to save him. She could still save AJ… right?

“You abandoned him for your little boyfriend, didn’t you?” His sickening smile only widened when Clementine shot upright in response.

“You seemed to have a favourite when you told us about them. Makes ya wonder.”

“I didn’t abandon AJ!” She yelled, lunging forward. The chair squeaked against the rough floor as it skidded forward a few inches. Her body seethed with anger.

“I’m going to get him back if I have to kill every one of you motherfuckers.”

“Maybe you won’t have to.” Abel intrigued.

What?

“You might still be able to fix this.” His words reeked of bullshit to Clem.

“Lilly ain’t quick to get rid of someone as useful as you. Keep your mouth shut and play along and you and your boy might get out in one piece.”

“Go to hell, Abel.” Clementine spit.

“I’ll see you there, then.”

The double doors that lead to the yard swung open with an ear-piercing squeak, flooding the rows of shelves with sunlight. The light interrupted by the silhouettes of two people entering the basement. They spoke low, one seeming more hesitant to approach than the other.

“Just give me a second.” She heard Louis speak, the shadows obscuring his face from her view.

“Look, I don’t care what you do to him, but… just don’t hurt her.”

“She tells us everything we want to know then I won't have to.” Mitch. That was definitely Mitch.

I guess it’s time for the interrogation.

They certainly took their time. Clementine imagined the others must have held a funeral for Marlon before dealing with their captives.

“Rise and shine.” Mitch called loudly to the already awake prisoners, his voice reverberating off the metal pipes.

Clementine couldn’t help but look past him at Louis. She watched him lean against the wall next to the stairs, arms crossed, finding more interest in the floor than looking up at her.

“Don’t look at him.” Mitch stopped her before she could call out.

“I’m the one you’re gonna pay attention to right now.”

Mitch’s threatening tone didn’t scare her. She couldn’t be sure he wouldn’t hurt her if she failed to cooperate, but honestly, it was hard for her to bring herself to care about her own well being. Numbness settled in her chest cavity, stealing away most emotions.

“I didn’t want any of this to happen.” She mumbled.

“I don’t know what to fuckin’ think about you anymore.” The tall boy glared uncertainly, pacing in front of her.

“You spent so much time goin’ on and on about these fucking ‘raiders’ but forgot to mention you’re one of them. Hm? Did it just slip your mind?”

“I needed you all to trust me.” Clementine tried to explain.

“If you didn’t we all would have died.”

“Oh, like Marlon? Or maybe getting taken would have been worse, like four of my fucking friends.” Mitch was fuming,

Clem understood his frustration. She lied to them, used them. Involved them in a plan they didn’t know the details of. Clementine was practically a traitor.

“That Marlon kid was coward.” Abel spoke, getting Mitch’s attention.

“I knew it the day I met him with those three redheaded girls. Handed those sisters over with hardly a fight.”

“Where are they?” the boy demanded, grabbing a fistful of Abel’s sweater.

“That’s none of your business, kid.” He flashed another toothy grin. His cockiness earned him a sharp punch to the stomach.

“That bitch of a leader talked about Minerva, if she’s with you, you better fucking speak up if you wanna stay alive.” Mitch raged, ignoring the man’s forceful coughing.

Abel writhed in his chair, blood spewing from his mouth as he puked up his insides. The massive amount of blood splattered over himself, covering his mouth and clothes in a thick red. His head fell back as his breathing became more laboured than before. Mitch stepped back in shock at the gruesome scene before him. Even Clementine felt her stomach turn at the sight.

That isn’t good.

“N-No… no…” Abel wheezed through broken breaths.

“Fuck.”

“The fuck’s wrong with you?” Mitch asked in slight horror.

“You did this.” The man turned to Clementine, who sat wide-eyed watching him.

“When you pushed me off that balcony, something musta’ burst inside of me.”

“Good.” Clementine said flatly as she glared back at the man who ruined her life.

I just wish I could have killed him myself.

But I guess I kinda did.

Mitch stood awkwardly between them, unsure of this new dilemma.

“Well if you’re dying then hurry up and fuckin’ answer me.” He blurted out, now keeping his distance from the bloody man.

“Where the fuck are my friends!”

“Lilly will never give ‘em up!” He coughed, spitting more blood onto his soaked sweater.

“We came here for more manpower, and losing two good fighters for four sprouts who can barely hold a gun? Even a dummy like me can do the math on that one.”

“We’re going get them back.” Mitch asserted with not quite convincing confidence.

“I don’t know how much your friend in the other chair told you about what’s going on outside but it’s a fucking blood bath. We’re only doing what it takes to keep our home safe.” Abel was starting to become physically weaker. His time was clearly running out.

“It’s a good home. I’d do a lot to protect it.”

“Raiding, kidnapping, torture, enslavement, yeah that sure is a lot.” Clementine snapped.

“You ruin more lives than you think you’re saving.”

“I do what it fuckin’ takes.” He looked Mitch straight in the eye.

“But I guess none of that matters to me now.”

His voice grew weak and his chest heaved with every breath. Just a sorrowful, bloody, husk of a man.

“I’ll cut you a deal, kid.” He tried to sit up, only to slump back after a few seconds.

“I’ll tell you where to find Lilly if you swear to stop me from turning.”

“You don’t deserve to be put down.” Clementine spit. After everything he’d done, mercy was the last thing he deserved. Clem knew many good people who were left to turn, Why should someone like him receive a mercy they were denied?

“C’mon, I’m begging ya.” His voice became desperate, whatever bravado he had before seemed to have bled out of him.

“What if… What if they can feel it… when they turn?”

“I guess you’ll find out soon enough.” Mitch deadpanned.

“Maybe people just get stuck in there, along for the ride.”

“Clem! Fuckin’ say something. Make him stop me. You know no one deserves to turn.” Abel must have been pretty desperate if he was trying to appeal to her.

“Abel, there is not a soul on this fucking Earth that wants you to turn more than I do.”

“Yeah, I figured.” He sighed

“O-kay, okay. In my boot, there’s a paper with everything you need to know.”

Mitch hesitantly reached into the boot of Abel’s intact leg, pulling out a folded piece of paper. He mulled over the contents of the page for a moment before reading them aloud.

“‘Collection Goals: Sullene, Dorian: Overwatch; Michael, Yonatan: Horses, Haul; Rendevoux Point: Lilly, Me: Meet with the asset at Train Station; Fisher’s Launch: nine miles, Marina: thirteen miles; Phrases: Allegany, Tazewell, Augusta, Rockingham.’”

“We got a boat docked not too far from here.” He wheezed out.

“The phrases are city names. We use ‘em like a call and response so we don’t go shootin’ our own. Only one we use these days is ‘Rockingham’.”

Mitch seemed satisfied with the notes, carefully folding the page back up and sliding it into his pocket. He crossed his arms as he stared at the dying man.

“I gave you what you wanted.” His words were almost unintelligible as he wasted away before them.

“Please, don’t let me become one of those things.”

“Let him.” Clementine wanted nothing more for those disgusting eyes to become clouded over, to match the muddy water colour of all the people she’d been forced to leave that way.

“I wish.” Mitch relented.

“We can’t risk him getting loose and tearing someone up.”

A shame.

Clementine would have to settle with him at least not being able to hurt anyone. Even if it wasn’t the justice she wanted.

“Thank you… Thank y-you…” The man could barely hold his head up.

His time had come.

Mitch pulled a knife out of his back pocket, cautiously approaching him. There was hesitancy in his movements.

He’s never killed someone before.

“Let me do it.” She knew the first kill was never easy, even if it was out of mercy.

“N-No.” He turned his head halfway over his shoulder, barely casting her a glance.

“I got it.”

He placed a hand on one side of Abel’s head, holding him steady. In one quick motion, Mitch jammed his knife into Abel’s skull. The man made horrible cries as his brain shut down, blood squirting from the wound. Mitch removed his knife, taking several steps back as Abel flopped forward, the bastard finally dead.

“Are you alright?” Clem asked, watching his shoulders rise and fall with heavy breathing.

“I’m fine.” The boy said, wiping blood off of his hand.

“You know you’re a good person if it never gets easier.” A reason why she believed she was not good herself.

“The hell did you get caught up with these assholes in the first place?” Mitch turned back to her.

“You put up one hell of a fight for someone who lives with them.

“They took me. Just like they took your friends.” The gunshots from the past rung in her ears.

“I was living on a ranch. The Delta’s people showed up demanding we give them our horses. When we refused, they killed everyone.”

Her chest tightened as she remembered scurrying down the halls with AJ in her arms. The feeling of him being ripped away from her shattered her heart.

“There was a little boy I was raising. He was just a toddler…” She bit her lip, trying to hold back her tears.

“Abel decided killing me would be a waste, so he took AJ away from me and forced me to go along with the Delta’s fucked up agenda or else they would hurt him.”

“They took a toddler?”

“Are you really surprised?” A nervous laugh escaped her throat.

“If I don’t stop Lilly from going back to the Delta she’s going to kill him.”

Or worse, brainwash him into believing Lilly’s bullshit.

“Are Minnie and Sophie on this boat of theirs?”

“I don’t know, maybe. I don’t know who she is.” She remembered seeing a girl with ginger hair briefly during her transfer, but who knows who she was.

“I’m not a real member of their community. They keep me locked up alone until they need me. I’m just a trained dog to them, not a person.”

Clementine finally glanced back at Louis, who looked at her with his mouth agape, horror in his features.

Mitch followed her gaze to the boy, frowning. He walked towards Louis, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“I guess it’s your turn.” Mitch nodded to him before leaving.

Louis stepped fully into the light. Grief crossed his freckled face as he stood over the girl he had fallen for. His eyes were still puffy from a night spent in tears. He said nothing for a while, mouth opening a few times but no words exiting.

Clementine couldn’t do anything but stare expectantly at him, her heart racing.

“Who are you?” He asked in all sincerity as if the two of them had never met. As if the two of them had never confided in each other. As if they had never shared that kiss only the night before.

“You know me, Louis.” Her voice broke.

“You know me better than anyone.”

“Do I?” Louis snapped, causing her to recoil slightly.

“‘Cause I think I was missing a few pretty major details.”

His face softened a little, mulling over his thoughts.

“Did you mean any of it?” The boy asked softly.

“The things you said… The things you did… and… last night in the music room. Was any of it real? O-Or was it all part of some act?” He practically pleaded for a response, his eyes becoming glassy with fresh tears.

“All of it!” Clementine cried through shaky breaths.

“Of course I meant everything! Louis, I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Did he really doubt her? After everything? Guilt clawed at her heart as tears pricked at her eyes.

I can’t lose him.

“Louis, please.” Clementine begged.

“You have to believe me. I wasn’t lying about how I feel about you. I…”

Her words trailed off as her throat became clogged with tears.

“I can’t keep watching the people I care about die because of me. I can’t keep watching my little boy suffer because of that bitch.” Why did she continue to fail at protection? Was she really that worthless?

“I just wanted us to be free.”

“You did all this to protect your kid?” He seemed to begin to understand.

“But then why did you fight back? You said Lilly’s gonna kill him when she gets to him, so why didn’t you just hand us over like you planned?”

Do you really need to ask me that?

Maybe he just needed to hear it from her.

“I couldn’t lose you.” Her voice came out as a croaked whisper.

“I’ve never had someone like you before. Someone who looks at me and sees something more than a broken shell of a person. Someone who tries to put me back together instead of leaving me on my own to figure it out myself.”

Other groups she’d infiltrated never really gave a damn about her. They tended to treat her like a stray cat, giving her food but mainly keeping their distance. This was something she’d come to expect… Until she met Louis.

“You were there for me like no one else, someone I could lean on.” Someone she desperately needed.

Hot tears began to slide down her face, flowing freely as she didn't have the freedom to wipe them away. Clementine sat before him a pitiful mess.

“I was going to tell you everything, once this was all over. I was going to sneak onto the boat and go save AJ myself and bring him back here.” She wanted to fold in on herself, to disappear.

“It was a stupid plan but it was all I had and now Lilly got away, Violet, Omar, Aasim, and Brody are gone, and Marlon is dead and it’s all my fault.”

I don’t deserve to be alive.

“You're wrong.”

What?

“That shit isn’t your fault.” Louis said assuredly.

“We all would have died or been kidnapped if it wasn’t for you. You saved as many of us as you could.”

Clementine couldn’t begin to describe how much those words meant to her. She was so sure that Louis would hate her but… perhaps a part of him did. It wasn’t plausible for him to just forgive her like that.

“And to be honest… we need you.” He confessed.

“Half of us are gone, we’re scared, and we don’t know what to do.”

He placed his hand on her right arm, leaning in slightly as they locked eyes. Several emotions swirled in his soft brown eyes. He stared for a long moment, before letting out a defeated sigh.

“If you’re really one of us…” With one slice of his blade, Louis cut through the tape that held her forearm to the chair.

“...then help us.”

[yellowsugarwords]

Walking Dead Game FanFiction - “I’ll Cover You”

Title: I’ll Cover You Characters: Clementine, Violet Summary: Clem and Violet, while hunting, get caught in the midst of a storm. For cover, they jump into an old building to sleep so the storm can pass. In the middle of the night, Clem wakes up with an anxiety attack thanks to a nightmare reminiscing on when she had been locked in the cabin crew’s shed. Violet wakes up to comfort her until she’s able to fall back asleep. Author's Note: Anytime I needed to write the word ‘straight’ in this, I giggled Requested By: Anonymous support me with ko-fi ♡ ---------♥️♥️♥️----------

The fragile, wooden door slammed shut. Then, there was nothing but darkness.

“Ugh, this sucks.” Violet grumbled. Clementine could feel a shift beside her, and knew that Violet was sliding into place. “I don’t know how we’re supposed to contact Marlon.”

The harsh patter of rain was only slightly muffled through the rickety wooden walls surrounding the two girls. It was the only sound that filled the room as the two stood, arms crossed, contemplating their next move.

“How long do you think this is gonna go on for?” Clementine asked, her voice soft, not wanting to disrupt the peace the sound of rain brought them.

She could hear Violet sigh. “Who knows.”

They had been so close to snagging a family of rabbits — deemed a feast these days — but a slash of lightning had cut their hunting trip short. To say they were disappointed was an understatement. They didn’t know when the next time they could find food would be.

Violet sighed, and yet again Clementine felt a shift beside her. Her arm grew cold from where Violet’s had been pressed against it, and she suddenly was aware of the girl no longer at her side. “Violet?”

“Down here,” the blonde’s voice came softly to her, meshing with the rain. Slowly, Clementine allowed herself to fall to the floor too. “There’s no sense in standing if we don’t know how long we’re gonna be stuck for.”

The shed was cozy, to say the least. Clearly it was meant for only one person at a time, and they were to stand with the door open to grab supplies before leaving. It wasn’t meant for standing in, let alone two people resting in.

The two sat in peaceful silence. Whenever they spoke, it was gentle and soft, just barely louder than the rain pouring outside. It’s patter was soft and calming, and the dim lighting and faint breathing didn’t help the exhaustion Clementine could feel creeping into her shoulders.

Just as Violet had gotten comfortable — albeit bitterly so — a soft clunk sounded on her right, accompanied by a weight on her shoulder. She was going to dismiss it as a fallen piece of equipment, but it felt far heavier. It was more persistent. It didn’t roll off like equipment would. It felt like far more than a gardening tool. It was thicker.

Turning her cheek, it settled upon the object, and she could feel it shift beneath her skin.

It was Clementine.

Her lips parted, a shaky breath escaping. She was going to ask Clementine what she was doing when the gentle sounds of breathing filled the space between them. She knew without needing to say anything that she was asleep.

She couldn’t deny that Clementine falling asleep on her was adorable. It showed that Clementine trusted her, or at the very least felt comfortable with her. Ever since Vi learned Clem was an ally to be trusted, all she wanted was for Clementine to be open to her.

Her head was warm, and the weight it supplied Vi’s shoulder was comforting. Like a child sleeping on your chest, or a hug from someone you loved — it was reassuring. The weight felt promising of her presence, that she wasn’t going anywhere.

In this world, she appreciated knowing such a thing. She knew Clementine appreciated it too.

Gradually, the blonde’s head fell onto Clementine’s. Once again, the girl shifted beneath her, only by sliding her head deeper into Vi’s neck. All Violet could do was smile. Then, she was out like a light.

It wasn’t until a boom of thunder crashed and gasp at her side heightened did she awaken. She didn’t know how much time had passed. Despite desperately wanting it to be a great amount, she spotted the darkness seeping in from under the door and assumed she hadn’t been out for long.

She was taken out of her thoughts once more by heaving beside her, and by the cool breeze that struck the right half of her body — the one previously met with warmth.

“Clementine?” She didn’t get a response back, only a mess of more panicked heaves, as if someone was struggling to breathe.

Violet could feel her throat close. She had no way of seeing what was going on.

Was she choking? Did she see something? Did a walker break in through a wall and bite her? Was she a walker? Despite her panic, Violet could see nothing. She had no comprehension of what was happening around her.

A hand clamped onto her wrist, squeezing. It was clammy and cold, and quivered as it latched onto her. Violet’s eyes remained wide, trying to see if she could make out what was happening through the dim light.

Then, another slash of lightning.

Through the light that crept under the door, and the light that poked through the small window toward the shack’s roof, she was finally able to catch a glimpse of the girl.

There sat Clementine, looking away. Her hand was clamped firmly onto Violet’s arm, her cheeks dressed in fresh tears. All the while she was pale as a ghost, and her shaking, even the small bit Vi could see through the lighting’s flash, was alarming.

What had happened to her?

“Clem--”

She wasn’t able to finish as a shaky wail snapped her out of her trance. She had never heard Clementine sob. Hell, she’d never even seen her shed a tear the entire time she’d been at Ericson.

But watching her break, now more than ever, was more heartbreaking than she could’ve ever guessed. Violet’s tongue was tangled in her chest, unable to move as it tried to piece her heart together. Finally, she forced herself out of it. “Clem,” her voice was fragile and faint. “What happened?”

Clementine turned, Vi could feel it through the darkness thanks to their proximity. The way her shaky shoulder brushed her hesitant one exchanged a message all on its own. “Dream,” it sounded as if saying that word alone was breaking her.

Yet still, Violet knew exactly what she was trying to say. It was rare for Violet to find people like that in her life — people who she could understand with little communication. She and Clementine hit that point almost instantly. They spoke silently across the dinner table daily. It grew through games of war, exchanging wordless whispers among the rest of their team.

The only other person Vi had that connection with was Minerva. Clementine, truly, was a gift. A gift she couldn’t stand to watch break.

“I can’t breathe.”

Violet reached out, her hands taking hold of each of the shoulders of the fragile girl. The sob that escaped her lips at the touch made Violet want to retract, but she pushed through. She knew Clem needed this.

Thanks to the darkness, the best way Violet was able to communicate was through touch. While normally she would’ve hated it, with Clementine, she was thrilled. It was the only way she knew she would be able to calm the girl down — through touch.

“Come here,” the blonde breathed. Before Clementine’s senses could react, could push away or reject the offer, she felt Violet’s arms slip around her back and pull her onto her lap. Violet’s arms swung the girl deeper in, setting Clem’s legs on the left side of her body. Vi gently touched the side of her head, giving her to ability to retract, and guided it to her shoulder.

When Clementine was able to digest what happened, the hand what was wrapped around her back was tracing circles against her neck, the other resting against and rubbing her knee. “Vi--”

“Shhh,” she hushed, her voice soft and cautious. “You’re safe here. Nothing can hurt you when I’m here.”

Clementine sat silently, her eyes wide at her sincerity.

“You’re safe with me,” she continued, her voice just as soft and sweet as before, if not more so. “I’m not going to leave you alone out there. Not in this world.”

After a moment of pause, clearly drinking in her words, Violet could feel the girl’s head nuzzle into her neck. Her grip around Clementine’s back grew tighter. She could only pray that Clem didn’t feel her neck flare with heat. Her embarrassment would go through the roof.

“I won’t leave you alone either,” Clementine breathed, her voice walking on a shaky tightrope. Allowing her eyes to close, she let the last of her tears crash onto Violet’s shirt.

Violet squeezed her knee, as she felt them.

Clementine, while mortified, knew that Violet was going to see her differently after that night. She was going to see her as weaker and more frail, more at risk for danger and breakdowns. She knew when Marlon asked for their mission report, it was going to make the rest of Ericson see her differently too.

Violet knew she wouldn’t say a thing when they back to Ericson. As far as everyone else was concerned, they were panicked by the storm and nothing else.

As far as the way she saw Clementine, Vi knew her views didn’t change.

Well, maybe only slightly.

Clementine seemed a hell of a lot cuter now that she’d cuddled her. ---------♥️♥️♥️----------

[brugioshi]

you asked for drarry prompts: moving in together but Harry has a panic attack because there's a storage cupboard under the stairs

That’s What Love Is, Idiot  AO3

Harry and Draco’s relationship transformed first with a bang, then gradually over time. Grievances all seemed petty to Harry after the battle. Still, old habits die hard— particularly as it pertains to emotions. During their eighth year, Harry forced himself to perform small favors for Draco— a compliment here, assistance carrying books there. Each time, Draco’s eyes betrayed overwhelming amounts of gratitude and bewilderment. This made it easier to see the pure-blood boy in a sympathetic light. Draco’s animosity towards Harry had long stemmed from a sense of comeuppance, rather than genuine dislike. It was easy to reciprocate his small kindnesses. Eventually they had a rapport of sorts. They weren’t close friends, but they were no longer enemies.

After their commencement ceremony, Draco found Harry alone in a corridor. He’d been reflecting on his time at Hogwarts— the only home he’d ever known— and picturing his future after leaving it. Draco hugged Harry, made the briefest flicker of eye contact, and left without a word. That was the last Harry saw of him for almost a year.

The next shift in their relationship was through Hermione. Unsatisfied to merely train as a Healer, she also attended Harvard School of Medicine.

“It’s imperative that Healers be holistic,” she often said, as if she wasn’t the first and only person to hold such a mantra. “Knowing how to treat muggle ailments will no doubt come in handy when I’m healing wizards again.” Harry couldn’t imagine how this could be the case. Sometimes he suspected Hermione merely loved being in school. Still, she seemed wiser than she was as a girl— not just smarter, but intelligent in a way that transcended “books and cleverness.” Or, maybe she was motivated by the price of rent in Boston. It kept Ron’s desire for children under control.

Harry’s work as an Auror kept him in London most of the time, but he visited often. When he did, he found himself surrounded by old friends. Arthur Weasley insisted on visiting constantly, of course.

“And you say muggles run tests to see what’s wrong with them?” Arthur asked during one such visit. His eyes lit up whenever Hermione talked about muggle medicine.

“Certainly,” she replied.

“Like an examination of sorts? Do they use a scamtron?”

“No, no,” she said, careful not to laugh. “Usually a nurse will extract a bit of blood with a syringe, and send it to a lab to be examined.” Arthur learned in, absorbing every word. “The other kind of examined,” she added carefully.

“And are vampires a problem? Do they sneak in to the labs much?”

This time Hermione did laugh.

“Not that I know of. There aren’t many vampires in Cambridge.”

Ron stayed in their nearby flat, tending to the one child they did have. Molly flanked him whenever the family visited, cooing over little Minerva and critiquing Ron’s parenting.

“You need to read to her more, Ron, it’ll help her become verbal faster. Her name does mean ‘wisdom,’ you know, you don’t want her being a laughingstock…”

“My name means ‘wise counselor,’” Ron protested.

“That’s what mum said,” George piped up from the couch, “she’s at risk of being a laughingstock.”

Harry laughed good-naturedly, cuddled into an armchair between the two groups. He intermittently listened to this conversation, and the one between Hermione and Arthur. He loved these trips. He’d been worried about leaving Hogwarts, especially after his best friends moved to America. He thought he’d be alone. Instead he had something of a family. Not enough for Molly, of course, who often asked when he’d find a wife.

“Or a husband, dear, it’s all the same,” she’d say, hand patting his shoulder. “I just want you to have someone special around.”

“You’ll be the first to know,” Harry assured her. Secretly, he was tempted to let her to find out by accident— harmless revenge for her prying. But even if he’d had the heart to do such a thing, he wasn’t sure he’d ever get married. The Dursleys were incapable of love; his parents for killed for it. What if he was bad at being a parent? What if something happened to him, and the child grew up alone? Would he ever find someone who wanted to spend their life with him— someone he felt secure with?

Some months into Hermione’s training, she noted that she’d connected with Draco. He was living in Salem, where he curated ingredients for the local wizard marketplace. His aptitude quickly led to an additional job: adjunct professor of potions at Ilvermorny. Seamus Finnigan was the Flying Instructor there. He quite delighted in the Irish heritage present in Massachusetts. The two had formed an unlikely friendship. More unlikely, however, was the working relationship that formed between Draco and Hermione.

She relayed all this to Harry via owl. Her revelation came as a shock to Harry. Several conflicting thoughts ran through his mind: Why would she ever work with Malfoy? Wait, I don’t hate him anymore. But it’s not like she ever spent time with him— I thought she still hated him. How is Ron taking this? How can she be so casual?  His fevered thoughts culminated in the memory of Draco hugging his after graduation. He scrawled off a note:

Hermione,

Do you mind if I apparate over this weekend? Would love to visit you and Ron.

Intercontinental owl post was a bitch to deal with. It was nearly Saturday by the time he received her affirmative reply.

***

Harry was bursting with questions when he arrived, but he waited until he could get Hermione alone.

“Are you all right there, Harry?” Ron asked. He scooped up Minerva, who snuggled into her father’s neck. “Let me make you dinner. You look restless— have you been getting enough air?”

Harry stood to hug Ron. His paternal instincts were adorable— moving, even. He was like a scrawny, tall Molly already. After the embrace, Harry looked through tears of joy at his friend. Ron looked back, entirely befuddled.

“Okay,” said Ron. “You’re kind of acting like Hermione when she was pregnant. If you’re feeling like her, too, I’d better get started on dinner.”

Hermione looked up from her anatomy textbook, one eyebrow raised, smirking at her husband.

“It’s a bit early for dinner. Go walk Minnie around the park, if you don’t mind; I’ll make Harry some tea.”

Satisfied, he strapped Minerva into her stroller and pulled out his wand.

“Solis praesidio.” He looked over at Harry, smiling proudly. “It’s like sunblock, but it lasts all day. Amazing, right?” He face glowed with far more passion than he’d ever shown for a subject at school. After several tangents on the art raising children— “lately Ethel O’Marra’s books are in style, but I just think Emily Yuri has the better perspective, couldn’t live without the spells of the month in Magical Dads either”—  Ron departed.

“He’s really found his calling, has’t he?” Harry asked.

Hermione set down steaming mugs of black tea between them.

“I always knew he’d be an amazing dad. One of the things I love about him.”

“Granted, I didn’t have a vested interest in it, but that never occurred to me.”

Hermione gave a warm, wise smile.

“Not to brag—” She smiled at the irony. She didn’t mind bragging; it was underrated. “Or yes, to brag: I have a knack for reading people.”

Finally; an in for Harry. For some reason, her vague aside about Draco had been on in his mind all week.

“Speaking of that—”

“Draco. Yes.”

“I wasn’t going to—“

“Oh? What were you going to say?”

Harry sat dumb, brainstorming excuses.

“So,” Hermione continued, “Draco. As I said, he’s a buyer for some of the shops around here. Of course, he’s a veritable expert on potions— a natural consultant on the subject.”

“Malfoy as a freelancer… it doesn’t seem to fit him, somehow.” Because Malfoys don’t work, he thought. “And he’s a professor, too?”

“Adjunct. He’s planning on resettling in London at some point.”

“Why be here at all, then?” I’d also pictured him living in Malfoy Manor. Wait, why do I have so many opinions on Malfoy?

“I think he just wants to get away from his family. His past, to an extent. His title, certainly. America’s not as interested in lineage. You don’t find muggles saying they’re one-thousandth in line for the throne, and you don’t find wizards marching about with impunity.”

“A curator for wizard shops— I suppose he travels a lot.”

“Some. Often he’ll find something important in the muggle shops around here.”

“How?”

“Well, Salem has a bit of a history, you know, if you bothered to listen to Binns—”

“I didn’t.”

“Well, a lot of muggles were killed for being witches. They blamed everything on witchcraft. Mainly, it was women who were a bit different that paid the price. Hundreds of years later, people interested in wizardry gravitate here. It seems dark, I suppose. Maybe it’s defiance of evil.” Harry could relate to that, at least. “So, one can find useful ingredients in their stores, if one really knows what they’re used for. Generally, it’s muggles who own and frequent the shops, tourists and the like, muggle witches. Real wizards go to Sarah Wildes Square.”

“Muggle witches?”

“It’s an oxymoron, I know, but it fits. People without wizarding blood who perform spells. I don’t know much about them.”

“I just can’t picture Draco Malfoy in a muggle establishment.” The part of Harry who still resented him suppressed a grin at the image of Malfoy tucked between tourists, looking deeply awkward.

“Oh, he’s completely changed. Dated a muggle witch who owned one of the shops, even. Didn’t work out. He dates a lot.”

Harry had no idea why the top of his ears turned hot.

“Well, I can picture him being a bit of a playboy.”

“Don’t be rude. He just didn’t feel comfortable with a muggle. Had to reverse any enchantments in his flat when she visited.”

“Or he’s just biding his time, holding out for a pure-blood,” he jeered. “Be a bit hard to find anyone with as long a pedigree as the Malfoys.”

“You’re awfully full of criticism today. You seemed to really take to him in eighth year. Anyway, he had a bit of a thing going with a professor. He came from a long line of medicine men, and they didn’t work out either.”

Harry felt a peculiar sense of comfort at this. Hermione studied Harry carefully, taking a long sip of her tea.

“Getting here must have been awfully last-minute for you. Intercontinental owl and all. You know they have cormorants do part of the trip? Come again next weekend. You two should reconnect.”

“I don’t know about that,” Harry said, sitting up stiffly, “but I’ll visit you and Ron. Have you told him about working with Malfoy?”

“Harry! He’s my husband! Of course I told him.”

At this point, two redheads burst into the flat.

“She’s asleep,” Ron shared. He gingerly carried Minnie into the nursery. When he emerged, he sat with them, conjuring up his own mug of tea. “What is it you told me?”

“Working with Malfoy.”

“Right,” Ron said. “We bumped into him on Wildes. I wanted to snub him, personally, but I remembered how nice you were to him after the war. Hermione’s been sharing chemical compounds of muggle medicines with him. He whips up similar potions, tries to mimic their effects. Maybe Healers could use them.”

“I don’t really get what the point is,” Harry admitted. “Wizards can literally ’stopper death.’ What’s the point?”

“Well,” Hermione said, “have you ever heard of a wizard being treated for mental illness?”

***

Work was particularly exhausting that week. There was a rash of raids— all dumb kids who romanticized Voldemort’s reign. It disgusted Harry. He wished they knew what being a Death Eater really meant.

Between the adrenaline of the raids, the late hours completing paperwork, and his frustration at those who dabbled in the dark arts, Harry felt almost sick. Impatient for a change of scenery, he decided to leave London a bit earlier than expected. He doubted this would trouble his friends terribly— and anyway, he couldn’t exactly ask for their permission. After work wrapped up on Friday, he scrubbed the week off of him and apparated.

He was greeted by a crackling fire, the warmth of which was instantly soothing. There was a domestic peace in Ron and Hermione’s apartment— a sense of love he couldn’t replicate in his own solitary flat. He slowly took in his surroundings, all illuminated in shades of orange: Hermione, still in her scrubs, sat deep in thought over a table littered with diagrams. Toys were strewn about the floor between her and an old, worn leather chair. In it, a man with unmistakable platinum hair flipped through a portfolio.

“Draco.”

He turned upon hearing his name, and looked quite surprised by the source.

“Harry.”

“Well, sit down,” Hermione piped up. “We’re examining flaws in a new antidepressant. Draco feels they might be remedied by replacing certain elements with mandrake seeds. Perhaps it’ll interest you—”

But the reverie remained intact. Harry stood fixated, staring into the eyes of the equally motionless man before him. Draco’s face was hypnotic. His eyes were as expressive as always. His mood would forever be transparent to any who cared to look at them closely enough. His cheekbones stood high and pronounced. All of his features, in fact, seemed to derive their attractiveness from their very severity. As if to illustrate this, his pale skin stood contrasted against black robes. Even the way he sat was elegant— so much so that Harry suspected his posture was affected, but did not mind one bit.

A shrill beeping broke out. Hermione removed a pager from her scrubs pocket.

“I have to go,” she said. There must be an interesting case at the hospital. I’ll probably be back late.”

Harry followed her onto the stairwell.

“What am I supposed to do with Malfoy?” he hissed.

“Perhaps you should have anticipated an awkward arrival,” she replied, “as you’re here early.”

“I’m sorry, truthfully, but how could I have warned you?”

“I’m a student at a muggle university, Harry, I have the internet.”

“Are muggles still using that?!” said the 1980 baby incredulously. “And what was the business about cormorants, then…?”

Ron opened a door at the bottom of the steps, head down and garment bag in tow.

“I’ve just dropped Minnie at the neighbor’s. I have your dress here. Did he come? This wasn’t the easiest reservation to get—” Ron squinted up the dark stairwell. “Oh hey there, Harry.”

“You planned this,” Harry accused in a hushed tone. “But why? And also, how?”

“Divination’s not so useless after all,” Hermione said. “Lock the door on your way out.”

She ran down the steps. Harry wondered if she’d answered his last question, or both.

He took a deep breath and stepped back inside. Malfoy was packing his things, his robes swirling around him.

“Suppose we’re done for the night, then.” Draco looked awfully sheepish— a holdover from their last year at Hogwarts. “Are you staying here? Should we leave a note for Ron, saying where Hermione is?”

So he was oblivious, too— of course he was. Hug of gratitude or not, he didn’t likely wish to be trapped with his former enemy.

Well, thought Harry, that’s too bad for him. I will not spend tomorrow being lectured about divination from Hermione of all people.

“I’m starving,” Harry said truthfully, “and I don’t know Wildes Square too well. I also get the feeling I’m not precisely welcome here until tomorrow. I’m not honestly sure what the night holds for me.”

“We never do,” Malfoy remarked, slinging a bag over his shoulder. Come with me. I have an extra room.”

***

He never went so long without seeing Malfoy again. At first, they would only meet during Harry’s occasional trips to Cambridge. There, he would watch Draco’s face in the firelight, stern with thought as he consulted with Hermione. They’d meet up for a meal or two, joke about their respective colleagues. One weekend when Minnie was teething, Harry showed up at Draco’s, practically begging for a reprieve from the crying. They holed up together, watching movies and talking about nothing. When night fell, it seemed stupid to move from Draco’s bed to the guest bedroom. So, he didn’t. They didn’t do anything, per se; just cuddled a bit as they fell asleep.

Draco began to visit London a night or two each week. He’d listen patiently as Harry ranted about work. Draco never broke eye contact. He looked at Harry with empathy when he complained of stress, agreement when he said it was all worth it, and pride when he brought dark wizards to justice. Harry didn’t want to get his hopes up, but sometimes Draco seemed to look at him with affection, attraction, even love. If nothing else, at least he had someone to fall asleep next to.

Then one snowy day, as they laughed madly at inside jokes outside Harry’s flat, Draco put his gloved hands over Harry’s cheeks and pulled him in for a kiss. When his head stopped reeling, he decided he never wanted to be without Draco. Draco, for his part, agreed.

A few weeks into their relationship, it became clear why Draco had trouble remaining close to people. Some nights he’d lie awake for hours, sweating through bedsheets, struggling to breathe. Sometimes he pushed Harry away, staying at his own place in America for days without visiting. Other times he flew into a panic when Harry left, as if he’d never see him again. Fortunately, Draco didn’t hesitate to talk when he was calm. The details spilled out of him. He’d been waiting ages, he said, for someone to listen without judgment or an ulterior motive.

He detailed everything: how he sometimes felt as though he were back in Malfoy Manor, with Voldemort lurking around. How his heart raced so badly he sometimes thought he might die. How a simple word or object could make him feel as though he were back in the War.

There were some things Draco couldn’t quite elucidate. Harry noticed them anyway. Draco seemed to bathe a lot— often several times a day. One night, Harry drifted off to sleep, lulled by the spray of the shower. When he awoke three hours later, it was still running.

“Draco? Are you okay?”

He opened the door to the bathroom, to find it was pitch black inside. Draco knelt on the shower floor, head against the wall, barely awake. Under the ice-cold spray, he scrubbed one forearm again and again. Harry grabbed the biggest, warmest towel he could find, walked Draco to bed, and held him under the covers until his shivers turned to sleep.

Draco healed over time. He kept busy with Hermione, who doubled as a counselor of sorts (“Utter conflict of interest, of course, we simply must train wizard therapists when we get the chance.”) While much of his improvement was due to meetings with Hermione, journaling, and other methods he’d undertaken on his own, he never hesitated to remind Harry that he was his saviour in more ways than one.

Five years later, things had fallen into place for the class of 1999. Hermione finished medical school, and completed a residency in psychiatry. She and Ron moved back to England, where Hermione’s theories attracted a great deal of interest.

“I worry that Minnie will never lose her American accent,” Ron griped, “but I love her anyway.”

Seamus continued teaching at Ilvermorny, eventually striking up a romance with Marcus Flint.

Luna ran an independent newspaper from her home in the countryside. Neville gained renown as an herbology scholar. They had children early and often, each equal parts whimsical and brave.

Draco had just finished his arrangements to open an apothecary on Diagon Alley, where Hermione’s findings were sure to make the business a success. Draco flipped through his business plan, lying in bed next to Harry.

“I guess you’ll be needing a place to stay,” Harry said, “now that you’re returning to London.”

“Sure, I’m just about to close on a house.” Draco shared this so casually it made Harry’s mouth drop.

“That’s nonsense! You should stay with me,” Harry said.

“Bit last-minute of you, but I can’t complain. If it hadn’t been for that trait of yours, plus the ingenuity of a certain mutual friend, I suppose we wouldn’t be together. But yes, of course you’ll be living with me.”

Harry grinned, and swept Malfoy onto him, papers flying everywhere.

“Excuse you,” said Malfoy playfully, “I was reading that.”

“Shut up. You bought us a house? That’s adorable.”

“It has a few extra rooms. You know, if you decide to have little mussy-haired Potters running around.”

“I can’t think of anything better. Since you’re such an avid planner, I suppose you’ve thought of names for them?”

Malfoy turned serious for a moment, stroking Harry’s hair.

“I think I’d like to honor my mentor,” he shared. “Name my son Severus.”

“I like that idea,” Harry said. “It’s a wonderful way to honor a mentor. Of course, that means we’ll be naming him Albus.”

“I’m sure we’ll come up with a compromise.” Draco leaned in to meet Harry’s lips, pressing his chest onto his. “Building a life together. It’s so beautiful— doing all the things my parents never did for me.”

Harry remembered the trepidations he’d felt years before. He tried to stuff his concerns down, enjoy this time of transition. However, it didn’t feel the same.

***

“You should see the house,” Draco said the next morning, “now that I know you’re definitely in.”“I’m really not particular,” Harry said. He had a strong premonition they’d have this very conversation several times, once they got around to planning a wedding. “It’s a house,” Draco said. “Kind of a momentous purchase. You should at least see it— make sure you like it.”“All right, but I’m sure it’s perfect. I’ll only go because I’m excited to move in.” Even if I’m also seriously overanalyzing the risks, he added silently.

The house was surprisingly cozy. Harry had thought Malfoy would gravitate towards a sprawling estate, all perfectly finished mahogany and velvet drapes. Sure, it was elegant, but it was also somewhere Harry could feel comfortable.

There was just one thing. In the front hall, below the staircase, there was a cupboard.

He’d been unable to take his eyes off it while Draco conversed with the real estate agent. It seemed to pose a threat of some kind— as if looking away would somehow be disastrous. He felt his robes were moving with the force of his heartbeat. He hoped no one noticed. Stepping out of the house, he was able to breathe easily again.

“Are you all right?” Draco asked. “You’re sure the house is okay?”

“Yes,” Harry said, forcing a smile. “It’s perfect.”

During one his Salem trips, Harry had gone to a muggle museum about the witch trials. One room was filled with statues, each of which lit up with accompanying audio. One of the few men executed was depicted. He had been crushed to death, rocks piled high atop of his chest. Beneath layers of boulders, the man let out a tortured groan: “More… weight…”

Harry felt he had a rock on his chest whenever Draco shared news about their soon-to-be home. He didn’t dare say anything about it. He was supposed to be the one who protected Draco— not the other way around. What if his newfound vulnerability ruined Harry for Draco? Or worse, what if Draco regressed as a result of Harry’s own traumatized state? He was angry at himself, at the Dursleys, at life— it wasn’t fair. What had he done to deserve these feelings? He should be able to live in a world with cupboards under stairs without falling apart.

Within months, the house was ready. This time, Harry wouldn’t look at the cupboard. It was, it occurred to him, not unlike Draco and his Dark Mark. Except these days, he didn’t ignore it as much. Sometimes Harry found Draco actually peering directly at it. The first time, he’d felt sure this was a problem.

“Hey,” Harry had said, stepping towards him and gingerly cupping his shoulder. “It’s okay.” To his surprise, Draco had looked back at him and smiled.

“I know,” he said. “Hermione taught me about this thing— immersion therapy. When you’re in a decent emotional state, you immerse yourself in the memories that bother you. It gets easier to deal with over time.”

Maybe that was all Harry needed. Unpacking that first day at home, he intermittently stared at it or avoided the sight. He didn’t feel as bad as he had prior. Maybe it was working.

But that night when Draco touched his neck, Harry pushed him away with more force than he’d meant to.

“Whoa, okay. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t know what’s up with me.”

“Just tired, maybe? You know, you can tell me anything.”

“I know,” Harry lied.

It went on like this for some time. The fact that things were slow at work somehow made Harry’s anxiety worse. The less actual problems he had, the more the past seemed to creep into his consciousness.

They held a housewarming party. Molly arrived early to help set up.

“It’s such a lovely home, dear, but it feels awfully empty without children…”

“Oh my god,” Ron whispered over his tea. “Ignore her. We have three now and she still asks when she’ll get another baby to coddle…”

Neville brought them a houseplant heavy with red and violet blooms.

“It’s pretty, of course, but it also has medicinal properties. Congratulations on your apothecary. Let me know if you need help with supply.”

“Thank you, Neville,” replied Draco, as if anyone could have predicted such a civil conversation between them in their younger years. “I definitely will.”

Neville beamed proudly. For all his maturity, he still seemed to marvel at acceptance. Luna, on the other hand, couldn’t care less about it.

“You worked at Brigham and Women’s Hospital, right?” she asked Hermione.

“Yes, I did my residency there.”

“I’ve been there. The campus is pretty, but it’s roving with vampires.”

Seamus and Marcus made an appearance as well.

“I would have liked for us to cause a scandal,” Seamus said. “House rivalry and all. Of course, you blokes had to go and ruin that for us,” he added with a wink.

When they’d gone, Harry turned to whisper to Draco.

“I honestly thought Marcus and Wood would be a thing.”

“They were,” Draco whispered back.

A couple walked into the kitchen, at first a blur of dark robes and platinum hair. This time, however, the sight was not a happy one for Harry.

Harry shot Draco a venomous look before greeting their guests.

“Lucius! Narcissa! It’s… a pleasure.”

Lucius looked less happy than Harry was.

“Well, congratulations on this… lovely home,” the elder man said, placing a glass-encased Hand of Glory on the center island.

Draco, having long ago learned of Harry’s Knockturn Alley misadventure, shot Harry a hopeful smile. It went unreturned.

“We’re just so proud of you boys,” Narcissa said, laying her own hand on Harry’s chest. Sense memory cheered him up somewhat.

“Thank you,” said Harry gratefully.

The couple left mercifully early. Harry immediately pulled Draco into an empty room.

“Why were your parents here?”

“Are you serious? I’m a small business owner. You think I bought this thing on my own?”

Harry bristled at his own stupidity, but continued to direct his anger elsewhere.

“You couldn’t have told me?”

“It really never occurred to me that you wouldn’t assume for yourself. Besides, I don’t want to talk about them more than I have to.” He looked disappointedly at Harry and sighed. “Honestly, I get it, and I’ll tell you if I invite them to something in the future. But really, how could you think that was harder for you than it was for me?” He left the room. Harry stood in the dark for awhile, guilt and self-loathing now mingling with his anger and panic.

He bluffed his way through the rest of the evening, thanking guests for coming and putting on a brave face. When only he and Draco remained, they proceeded wordlessly towards the staircase to retire. Then, Harry turned to the cupboard— and proceeded to slump unto the floor.

Draco knelt beside him, calmly assessing the situation. Harry’s eyes were fixed on something far in the distance— something Draco couldn’t see.

“Can I touch you?” Draco had learned this habit from their first night at the house.

Harry tried to speak, but failed for lack of breath. Through no small effort, he managed to nod. Draco locked his arms beneath Harry’s, walked him up the stairs, and lay him down on their bed. After disappearing for a moment, he reemerged with a small vial of pink liquid. Upon being uncorked, a tuft of smoke curled up. It smelled of lilacs and chamomile.

“It’s kind of like Muggle Valium,” Draco said, “with a hint of a beta blocker. Basically, it will slow your heart down, and make your anxiety a bit more manageable.”

Harry took the vial and drank it. To a small degree, his panic subsided.

“It’s certainly fast,” he remarked.

“One of the many ways magic improves upon muggle medicine. What happened, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“The Dursleys.”

Draco nodded; he had a fair degree of understanding, but not enough to make the connection.

“Before I went to Hogwarts— before they felt they were being watched— they made me live in a cupboard under the stairs.” He rambled on for awhile, paused, and added: “I don’t want to be a bother to you.”

To his horror, Draco laughed.

“It isn’t funny.”

“The situation isn’t, I’m sorry, but that is.” Draco ran a hand through Harry’s still-damp hair. “Why would you be a bother to me? I want to help you.”

“But I’m supposed to help you.”

Draco laughed again, and gently pulled Harry’s head to face his.

“That’s what love is, idiot. Being strong when the other person is weak.”

Harry took Draco into his arms. He felt he would never fall asleep— his heart still raced, albeit less so than before— but when he did become calm, he was exhausted. When he awoke, bright afternoon sunlight streamed unto the empty bed.

He found Draco downstairs, wand in hand, looking satisfied with himself. In front of him, the staircase stood sans cupboard.

“Is this okay?” Harry asked. “Shouldn’t I learn to live with it?”

“There are some things we can’t avoid,” Draco said. “Scars, for example. We both know a little about that. Memories. Life in general. Cupboards under stairs? Personally, I find them tacky.”

Harry laughed harder than he had in months. He embraced Draco, who met him with a deep kiss.

“Draco— you’re amazing,” he said.

“I know. And if you try to be Strong Mr. Saint Potter again, I swear to god I may hex you.”

Harry nuzzled into Draco’s neck.

“I do believe you’ll make good on that threat. I wish I could be as vulnerable as you, and honestly, I’ll try to be more open about the things that scare me. But they’re just that: fears. Promise you won’t take them as me not wanting a future with you, okay?”

Draco nipped at Harry’s earlobe.

“How could I make such a foolish mistake? I’m amazing.”

[general-du-vallon]

for @canadiangarrison​. I don’t know that I like it yet so I’m not posting it on AO3 and linking it to the Harry Potter au lololol 

Porthos is sure this is the address. It’s weird though, not what he expected. Then again, what had he expected? Some kind of tower, maybe, or a spindly skinny house, or something drab, or maybe a house with a tartan pattern. Instead it’s a farm. He’s apparated into a field. There is mud. He looks across at Athos, who’s managed to apparate onto the driveway, and picks his way over, rifling his pockets for the little bit of paper he was given after much charming and begging and cajoling and wheedling. When he climbs over the stile Athos raises an eyebrow at Porthos’s muddy shoes so Porthos spells them irritably cleaner to keep the mockery at bay. It doesn’t help: Athos squints into the field. He finds the scrap of paper and examines it, examines the house, and nods.

“This is it,” he says.

“Am I going with you? She’ll be madder the more of us there are,” Athos says.

“You mean she’ll be mad at you too if you go and if you don’t she won’t be,” Porthos says.

“That too. I’ll wait here,” Athos says, perching on the stile and pulling out a book. “You couldn’t do a warming charm, could you?”

“No,” Porthos says, making for the house. He does, though, because he’s a pushover. Athos giggles as the warm air gets into all his ticklish spots.

Scotland looks like any other middle of nowhere, Porthos thinks, looking around him. Except not, because here is a little house dug in to a hillside and Scotland as far as the eye can see is less neat patchwork fields and more slightly terrifying wildness. Porthos can follow the driveway to a lane and then a road, and there are patchwork fields, and far, far away another far, and closer some more buildings. He’s startled by a dog. She surely doesn’t have a dog. It shows very little interest in Porthos, merely glaring and moving out of his path to lie in the lee of the house, with another dog. Sheepdogs, maybe. Working dogs, probably. Porthos is relieved to find an old fashioned rope bell-pull, that at least is in-keeping. He gives it a cheerful tug and stuffs his hands into his pockets. He put on robes for this but they are robes with pockets. Good pockets. He’s happy about his pockets. The doors opens.

“Vallon,” professor McGonagall says, mouth a thin line or irritation.

“Um, yeah,” Porthos says, suddenly thinking this is a very very bad idea she probably has all sorts of reasons for not giving out her address. He scratches the back of his neck.

“Well you’d best come inside,” she says, opening the door wider.

He does, politely removing his shoes and cloak, standing holding both under McGonagall’s scrutiny. She’s wearing a black dress and tartan shawl and her hair is only loosely tugged up into a bun. She looks relaxed. Even casual. She makes a sharp sound and indicates another door. He pushes it open and finds a small room lined with coat hooks, a sink at the ends, wellies everywhere. He hangs up his cloak with the other cloaks and stares in consternation at the muggle coats. There’s a very old ratty Gryffindor scarf and hat, and a red pair of wellies with a badly drawn lion peeling off.

“Well?” McGonagall says, so he comes out.

She closes the door, it has a heavy metal latch, old fashioned. That too is in-keeping. She leads him down the hallway, down three stone steps, and into a big, open kitchen. It’s warm, there’s an Aga and the floor is flagged stone but they’re warm stone - Porthos senses magic in the flags. The light is soft, from side lamps at the far end where there’s an area of overstuffed furniture, beyond a big wood table. There’s a kettle on the hob and as they walk in it whistles, lifting itself off and filling a tea pot with floats down the room to the soft furnishings and a coffee table where there are two pink mugs, fine bone-china, a beautiful sugar blue sugar bowl that matches, a blue milk-jug which doesn’t. There’s a cat curled up in the window, and another comes over to purr and wind itself around Porthos’s legs.

“Not the postman?” Comes a voice from the armchair with a high back, a broad Scottish accent turning the vowels unfamiliar, the chair facing away making the owner of the voice invisible until she stands up and looks over.

She’s small, a little bent, with copious amounts of thick dark grey hair. Her face is lined and sun-beaten, she looks strong. She’s smiling warmly. She’s holding knitting. She gives McGonagall a look and McGonagall gives an exasperated one in return and the woman looks Porthos over once before bursting into a peel of laughter.

“You’re Porthos Vallon,” she says, sounding amused. “Excellent! How ever did you find us? Come, sit. Minerva, get another mug for our guests, and ginger biscuits. I like ginger biscuits, don’t you, Porthos?”

“Not really,” Porthos admits, going over to take the hand she’s holding out, knitting stowed under her arm. She takes his in both hers and smiles up at him, face full of laughter.

“Minerva has lots of complaints about you, it sounds like you liven things up to me though. Then again, I chose to work with nothing but cows and sheep, go weeks without seeing another human. Much the better life, in my opinion,” she says.

“Oh,” Porthos says. “This is your land?”

“Yep. I bought the place in 1969 and I’ve been looking after this earth ever since. Minerva says that makes me an honorary witch,” she says.

“You have me at a disadvantage,” Porthos says. His hand is still held in hers. It’s warm and he finds himself smiling, he adds his other hand to their little knot. “I don’t know your name.”

“That’s right,” she says, grinning widely, eyes sparking with mischief and a certain slyness creeping into her expression. “And you don’t know why Minerva lives here, either.”

“If the two of you would let go of one another so we might sit down?” Mcgonagall says, stiffly, finally coming over.

They both do and Porthos perches on the sofa, not looking away from this new woman. She sits back in her chair with a serene, smug look and goes back to her knitting. Porthos is sure he’s not getting an introduction. Minerva clears her throat and Porthos draws his gaze reluctantly away, helping himself to tea and slumping back in the comfy sofa.

“Thought I’d better find you, before term began,” Porthos says.

“I already reinstated you all as teachers,” Minerva says.

“Yeah,” Porthos says, and clears his throat. “That’s what I thought I’d better see you about.”

“If you tell me you’re not coming back afterall I’ll make you plough the blasted back field by hand without magic, with the plough we’ve bloody well kept from the 18th bloody century,” Minerva says, glaring across at the other woman, who knits on ignoring the look. A third cat comes in, a younger one, and bats at the ball of wool as it twitches.

“No, no, I’m looking forward to teaching again,” Porthos says. “And the others are too, we all missed it believe it or not.”

“Spit it out, Vallon, before I lose what little patience I have for this visit.”

“I dunno what to say,” Porthos admits, sitting up and looking into his teacup. He quite wants one of the ginger biscuits now. It would be something to do with his hands. Minerva lets out a long breath and then softens.

“How about you begin at the beginning?” she says.

“Yeah ok. I went to hunt ice dragons, a bit of adventure, live a bit of life. I thought maybe I’d get a taste for it, maybe I’d… I’ve always thought that stuff in the past might’ve been holding me back, that I was being safe, and yeah, I was a bit. I liked the adventure, I might do more of that in the future. Hands on transfiguration was fun, and I liked thinking on my feet, and I really used my skills.”

“It’s not what you expected?” Minerva asks.

“No, not that. Though, not really what I expected. Since we’ve been back, Aramis has been working on his past stuff, and… I’ve got to thinking, and I want more,” Porthos says, softly. “Seeing everyone in Diagon Alley with their families, and seeing my family around me, I love them all to bits don’t get me wrong but I want more. I want a baby.”

Minerva is silent. Porthos risks looking at her. She’s staring at him in complete shock. Which, fair enough, it’s not a desire he’s ever really made clear to anyone, even himself. Usually when it comes up he’ll cite his age, and Athos’s age, and their complicated situation with Aramis though really it’s very simple and only complicated by idiotic social convention. He lifts his chin defiantly. Just because he’s never been able to choose ‘yes’ to ‘do you want children’ doesn’t mean that ‘no’ was an actual decision. Minerva looks back at him, shock clearing.

“And? What am I to do about this?” she asks.

“We’re gonna adopt. We’re gonna need testimonies are stuff, I wanted to ask you,” Porthos says. “And I’m going to do the first few months of parenting so I’ll need time off,” he ducks his head to hide his smile. “Paternity leave. And then Aramis is probably gonna quit because he quite likes the idea of being a stay at home Dad, but not at once because he loves babies an awful lot but is worried he’s not good enough at it so we’re gonna ease him in and wait until he’s confident. I’m babbling. I’m excited about this.”

“I would be happy to write you as many testimonials you require,” Minerva says. “I will help you start a family, if that’s what you want.”

“I want it,” Porthos says. “I didn’t know how much until I admitted to myself that maybe it’s possible after all. My aunt is gonna help us too, and Aramis’s brother, and d’Artagnan and Constance have both agreed to write letters for us. We found a service that sets up private arrangements, they’re sort of specialists for matching people in different life situations.”

When he looks up again Minerva is looking not at him but at the woman, who’s still knitting but has the softest, sappiest, most affectionate smile on her face. Minerva tsks and gets up abruptly, going to fetch a biscuit tin. She offers Porthos one which isn’t ginger then shows him out. He doesn’t get a name but he knows perfectly well now why it is Minerva lives here. He turns, out on the steps, the dogs still there ignoring him.

“I’m glad you’re happy afterall,” Porthos says. “I always thought you lost someone and just stopped looking.”

“I did,” Minerva says. Then gives him the fiercest look he’s ever received from her: he steps back and raises a hand. “I was hardly ‘looking’. She tried to sell me a pig.”

Porthos does not laugh. Minerva nods and closes the door with great dignity. He really wants to ask for a name, but he can’t bring himself to. The door opens again.

“I didn’t buy the pig,” Minerva clarifies. “So she married me instead.”

Then the door snaps shut and doesn’t open again. Porthos heads back down the path to the gate and out onto the driveway, back to the stile. Athos hops down and throws his arms around Porthos, kissing his cheek, then links their arms and sets them walking. Porthos doesn’t question it, just lets Athos meander for a while, liking having him close.

“She said yes,” Athos says.

“She said yes,” Porthos agrees. “She’s married, to a muggle.”

“Really?” Athos says.

“I’m not to tell anyone,” Porthos says, guilty. Athos sniffs. Porthos blushes a bit. They walk in silence.

“I think she’s known you long enough to know how long that will last,” Athos says, eventually, amusement seeping into his words.

“Maybe. I got no name,” Porthos says, chagrined. Athos does laugh, at that. “What?”

“Porthos, that farm is called Gaw’s Farm, there’s a sign, and the post-box says Elspeth Gaw on it,” Athos says. “And Gaw’s Farm is written on the top of your little bit of paper, along with Elspeth House. There must be other addresses on the farm.”

“She named her house after herself,” Porthos says. “That’s not an obvious thing.”

“No,” Athos agrees. “But it’s also on the post box, and also Professor McGonagall has mentioned an Elspeth, I thought she was a friend they were going for drinks or something.”

“Ok ok,” Porthos says. “Are we ever going to disapparate?”

“I’m side-alonging you, no more fields.”

“You’re horrible,” Porthos grumbles.

He takes Athos’s hand, though, and they twist on the spot, vanishing, leaving nothing but the fields and the empty track and evening drawing in.

[tuxiedjabberwock]

Boiling Point ch3 - a Fairy Tail fan-fiction

Title: Boiling Point Category: Anime/Manga » Fairy Tail Author: Sqydd Language: English, Rating: Rated: T Genre: Romance/Drama Published: 12-10-16, Updated: 02-18-17 Chapters: 3, Words: 15,754

Due to a severe misunderstanding printed in Sorcerer's Weekly, Lucy goes out with Loki to eliminate the idea that she's dating Natsu. How does he feel about it? Well, he rightly went to kick Loki's ass. Or the story in which Natsu reaches his boiling point, because no one steals from a dragon.

Also available on:

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12267597/3/Boiling-Point

http://archiveofourown.org/works/8803069/chapters/22031423

» chapter three

» in which lucy does something they’ll both regret

“Ooh, Ricardo,” Vanessa moaned as she swooned into Ricardo’s strong, tanned arms, “I would never have imagined that you, of all people, would capture my heart.”

 “My love, nobody could catch that burning phoenix,” he replied, brushing soft lips against her forehead and tucking loose strands of brunette hair behind her flushing ear. “You’ve only given to me what I’ve silently prayed for for years.”

 “Ricardo,” she whispered lovingly, reaching up and caressing the sharp line of his jaw.

 “Vanessa,” he said in the same tone, as if she was his sun, his moon, his stars, the tone that made her feel as if she was flying and falling all at the same time. Slowly they gravitated towards each other, the wind calming to a standstill as the heavens above went to witness the perfect pieces of each other—

 Lucy dropped her pen with a sigh, arching her back and stretching her arms. She had a pretty productive night by her usual standards—she might even have a whole chapter ready for Levy by tomorrow. She got up to eat some salad from the fridge, then took a bath and brushed her teeth. It was when she was about to close her window to stave off the cold night air that she realized something a bit alarming: Natsu hadn’t come by. He always came by religiously just as she was getting into the bath.

 Maybe he’s still sore from that fight with Laxus, she thought, hands still curled around the window. It was a possibility, but injury has never stopped him before. He couldn’t have been at the Guild either, since it was closed by that time, so he must’ve been at his place, the place he barely spent any time at. She waited by her window for five minutes more before shutting it with a disappointed sigh. Had it been anyone else, she would’ve assumed that he had finally taken her “get outs” seriously, but he was Natsu.

 “Could you for once not break into my house like a bandit?” Lucy sighed, dropping her purse and shaking her head at the sight of Natsu and his partner-in-crime lounging in her armchair and eating off her watermelon for the third time that week. (Never mind the mess they were making—watermelon was expensively out of season!)

 “Aw, but that’s half the fun!” Happy protested, at which Natsu vehemently nodded to. He probably would’ve agreed aloud had his mouth not been stuffed, not that that ever stopped him before.

 “Don’t you guys have other places to break into, like Gray’s apartment? It’s a lot bigger than here.” She picked up Natsu’s sandals, which he’d tossed across the floor, and set them in front of the door.

 “Why would I?” he said, swallowing. “It stinks like him—I’d never get the smell outta my nose.” She didn’t think Gray smelled as bad as Natsu frequently complained about, then again she didn’t have a Dragon Slayer’s nose, and she also didn’t despise him as much.

 “Actually, Gray smells sweet to me. Kind of like ice cream,” she said thoughtfully.

 “Really?” Natsu’s mouth skewed as he exchanged a look with Happy, then he muttered something under his breath he quickly covered up with more watermelon.

 “Hey, don’t get the juice everywhere! I just cleaned!” She worked on shooing Happy and his pile of raw fish from her manuscripts while Natsu practiced his sharpshooting skills by aiming the seeds at a lamp. “Natsu! Why don’t you just take my watermelon and go home?” she grumbled.

 “Because it’s more fun being here with you,” he answered easily. “Right, Happy?”

 “Aye!”

 “I don’t see how it’s fun to mess up my stuff,” she pointed out. He grinned at her in response.

 “’cause you need to loosen up some. It’s fun here, messin’ with you and seeing you pull your hair out.” He sniggered as she growled at him. “And I like being here with you, too.”

 In the morning, she would surely go find out what was wrong.

It costed her a fair amount of beauty sleep, but Lucy woke up early to start the trek to Natsu’s house. By the time she made it, the two had already left for the Guild, so it was simple for her to get in.

 She had almost forgotten the huge mess that they lived in. Old clothes, dirty dishes, and half-eaten meals were everywhere, and that wasn’t even including his “junk collection.” Still, she pushed up the sleeves of her pale pink cardigan and got to work—summoning Gemini to help.

 “Why are we rooting through his stuff instead of asking him?” they asked off the bat, staring at Lucy with her own ruffled expression. Lucy huffed as she worked on sorting through a pile of charred firewood.

 “Because he won’t say anything. I’ve never seen Natsu hold onto a secret as hard as this.”

 “But won’t he be upset when he finds out you were snooping, if he’s intent on keeping this a secret?”

 “He’d be more upset to see his secret hurt our friendship,” she pronounced, dropping Gemini into a thoughtful silence.

 “…Lucy,” they started, then stopped, then rephrased their words: “Have you considered that maybe, Natsu likes you? It’s possible considering how he’s been acting lately.”

 “No way,” she said immediately, looking up at them. “Natsu’s a slave to his emotions—always has been. If he felt something for me—and trust me, I’ve checked,” she added, thinking of her prodding him on two separate occasions, “then he would’ve made some sort of slip-up, or at least told me.”

 “We think you’re underestimating his emotional capacity,” they remarked. “He’s shown that he can be caring a lot of times, like when you were taken by Jose, when you were beaten by Minerva, when Éclair died… Maybe he just can’t express love in means that you understand?”

 It was an interesting thought, actually. Natsu vibrated on a frequency that very little humans could comprehend. Maybe then, he was confessing/expression his love for her, but in very Natsu-like terms. But that couldn’t be, because he never said anything about her going on dates, not even with Loki. For someone that was constantly open with whatever he was feeling, she highly doubted that he would take that in stride. Then again, Natsu did a lot of things pretty weird…

 “And besides,” they added as an afterthought, “you already like him, so it wouldn’t be a problem, would it?”

 “I don’t—I don’t like Natsu!” she protested, red burning on her cheeks as she accidently toppled a stack of dirty dishes in her flustered state. They fell and smashed into pieces over the concrete. “Oh damn it,” she muttered, getting on her hands and knees to work on collecting the bits.

 “You can’t lie to us, Lucy—we see your thoughts.”

 “I… Maybe, but it’s a little crush, it’s nothing serious,” she said lowly.

 “And you think that going out with Loki would change that?”

 “I don’t know. That’s not what I had in mind either, going out with him. It’s just, he’s been begging for a date for a long time, so I thought why not?”

 “Well, because of that what if scenario, Natsu attacked him,” Gemini said blandly. “You know it wasn’t just a coincidence.” Lucy fell silent as she collected the clay shards into a pile. “We’re just saying, Lucy, that if he is in love with you—”

 “Ow!” Lucy cried, interrupting them. A piece of clay had stuck into her palm, cutting a clean line from the base of her pinky to her thumb. She hissed in pain at the injury, then blood started running in a stream down her palm and arm. Gemini started towards her, then the door slamming open caught their attention.

 “Lucy I smelled blood!” Natsu exclaimed, eyes narrowed and fists clenched as he looked around. Once he was sure there was no one there to punch, he marched over to her purposefully and crouched down to her height. “What happened?” he demanded. He didn’t sound particularly upset—did he not hear any of what they were saying? Actually, as Lucy looked around, Gemini had oddly taken their leave. Wow.

 “Nothing, I uh, didn’t you hear anything? I thought you were going to the Guild?”

 “I came back ‘cause I forgot my money, and Mira won’t spare me any freebies today.” He pouted for a moment, bringing a small smile to Lucy’s lips before the pain brought her back to the moment. He extended a hand and she rested her arm in his calloused grip easily, trusting. His skin warmed fractionally as he inspected the wound, and the heat made her sigh in relief as the pain waned a bit. “I wasn’t even paying attention—well, not until I got close and I heard you in pain.” She blushed slightly at the implication but he didn’t even notice, scrutinizing her hand with the expertise of one that had experienced more than his own fair share of injuries. “It’s not that deep,” he sighed with relief, leaning back on his heels. He walked off to a smaller pile of his stuff and started rooting through it. “Why’d you come here anyway?”

 “I was…worried,” she admitted. “You didn’t come over last night.” He tensed but quickly resumed his search.

 “Sorry, I crashed kinda early.” His voice came out strained, which she picked up on immediately: it was his guilty tone.

 “Natsu.”

 “That’s the truth, really.” He came up with a battered first-aid kit and returned to her side, drawing a towel from the case.

 “Isn’t this your workout towel?”

 “It’s clean, trust me—I washed it myself.” She did not, in fact, trust his cleaning capabilities, not after seeing how much of a wreck he slept on top of every night. But if nothing else, he was surprisingly gentle as he took her arm and carefully wiped away the blood. She barely even felt any pain as he swiped across her palm. “Clumsy,” he muttered.

 “What?”

 “You’re clumsy,” he repeated louder, taking out a bottle of alcohol and dousing the towel with it.

 “You’re not going to change…?”

 “Why? It’s still a good towel.” I guess this is why he’s not a doctor, she thought, deadpanning as he used the last bit of clean space on the towel to clean the area. How does he even survive, living like this? “And I’m not clumsy.”

 “Then how did you smash those plates?” he challenged with a smirk.

 “Because you don’t know how to put things away! I don’t know why you have cupboards and shelves in the first place!”

 “I keep clothes and stuff in there,” he explained.

 “What sense does that make?” He was bandaging now, which was just as crude as his cleaning technique.

 “Well, clean clothes, so I can know which are clean and which aren’t. That makes sense, doesn’t it?”

 “No.”

 “Well it’s ‘cause girls are weird about their stuff. Like you have an entire drawer for your underwear—well, there’s a lot of it, so I guess it’s warranted—”

 “Wha— When did you go looking through my underwear drawer?” she demanded, red in the face from embarrassment and anger. He didn’t quite catch on, staring at her blankly.

 “While you were taking a bath that one time. Happy and I were using your underwear like slingshots, then we got bored and used your bras as parachutes. They didn’t work,” he complained.

 “Because that’s not what they’re for, you stupid dragon!”

 “You don’t need to shout in my face,” he grumbled, clasping the cloth and ensuring it was tight enough not to fall off. He looked up, mouth open for another smart comment, when their eyes met. They were close, unexpectedly so, and the distance made her heart skip a beat, which she blushed at when she realized Natsu could certainly hear it.

 “Well…thank you,” she mumbled in a rush, getting to her feet. She was prepared to dart home and pretend the whole thing never happened when, suddenly, his rough hand clasped around her good one, squeezing slightly to catch her attention. She turned to ask him what was the matter but the words fell flat on her tongue when she met his eyes. He was staring at her with his usual Natsu expression, but somehow it seemed more…personal? She swallowed and licked her lips anxiously, and he followed her tongue with his eyes seemingly unconsciously.

 “Wait,” he said after what felt like an eternity, his voice low. He was still gazing at her with all the intensity of a burning bonfire, eyes dark, and she felt more blood rise to her face the longer he watched her. Then he released her, shifting his hand to cup her cheek. His palm is still warm like a hearth, and her eyelids fluttered at the contact. One of them drew a sharp breath—she wasn’t even sure who in her fugue. His callouses gently scraped across her face as he took a lock of her hair between his fingers. “Here,” he said, effectively breaking the spell as he tugged her hair slightly. Her eyes widened as he brought his hand down, showing her an old fish skeleton. “This was caught in your hair.”

 “Na— You moron!” she shrieked, embarrassed beyond belief as her foot went flying into his stomach. He was reeling from the impact, probably more from surprise than pain as she was sure she twisted her ankle from the attack, but she took the reprieve all the same to beat her hasty retreat. He probably thought she was crazy, but she couldn’t even manage to care. Instead, his facial expression was filling every brain cell, even if it wasn’t genuine.

 Maybe he just can’t express love in means that you understand? Gemini had said, and maybe it was true. But if it was true that Natsu was in love with her, and there was a teeny tiny chance that maybe perhaps she lo—liked him back, then what would that mean for the two of them? That was the most chilling thought of all.

It wasn’t often that Team Natsu had time for vacations, mostly because it seemed that at every turn, there was some new catastrophe happening, and in the case of the Tower of Heaven, it happened while they were on vacation. Still, they had to at least try, so one sunny weekend while Natsu, Lucy, and Gray were having lunch at the Guild, Erza marched over and slapped four tickets down on the table.

 “What are these?” Lucy asked, looking up from her smoothie.

 “There’s a new beach resort in a town a few miles from here,” she explained. “I did a favor earlier for the owner, so he provided some complimentary tickets. I decided that we could all use a little getaway.”

 “Actually, I was gonna go a fishing trip with Happy,” Natsu said.

 “And there’s a new ice cream shop in downtown Hargeon I wanted to check out,” Gray added.

 “I had some shopping to do,” Lucy said helplessly. Erza’s eyes gained a nasty glint as the next thing that hit the table was her metal fist.

 “I said that we could use a getaway!” she repeated with an edge to her tone.

 “A-Aye!” they agreed, completely changing their tune. The glint turned into a full-blown sparkle as she smiled victoriously.

 “We’re catching the train at noon, so be packed by then.”

 “Train?” Natsu squeaked, paling. “Can’t we walk, or can’t we run?”

 “We’re not all wild animals like you, Hothead,” Gray muttered.

 “Yeah? Well you smell like one.”

 “At least I know how to use the shower for more than just drinking water, you fiery mouth breather.”

 “Eh?” he snarled, butting foreheads with him. “Ya wanna say that again, droopy-eyes?”

 “What, couldn’t hear me over the sound of nothingness in your head, slant-eyes?” Gray retorted. They broke into their usual bout, which Erza ignored on account of beach excitement, and Lucy ignored as she was still amazed at their normal interactions. Granted, the events of the other day most likely didn’t register as odd in Natsu’s peculiar brain, but she couldn’t help thinking about them two…or twelve hours of the day. She felt a light blush coat her cheeks that she hid by ducking into her smoothie, avoiding Gray’s left boot as it went flying from their brawl.

 “Hey, Erza,” she asked as a thought hit her. She had to look away as the stars in her eyes were practically blinding. “Do you have an extra ticket for Loki?”

 All of a sudden the fight ended as Natsu took a particularly hard punch to the chest. He didn’t seem particularly bothered however, as his expression shifted from battle-crazed to plain pissed. He muttered something about getting an early start on packing before practically stomping off, leaving a trail of smoking wood in his wake. Gray stared after him more with concern than confusion as Lucy did.

 “Loki?” Erza said, having missed the whole affair. “Right, I’ve forgotten you two are a thing now.”

 “We’re not exactly a thing,” she mumbled, twirling the straw around her finger.

 “Well what would you call it then?” Gray said with more interest than he arguably should’ve. “A fling?”

 “I wouldn’t— I wouldn’t call it a fling. That makes it sound cheap.”

 “So you really have deep feelings for him?” he continued. Lucy flushed harder and directed her attention on her pale pink fingernails.

 “Why do you even care?”

 “And where are your clothes?” Erza interrupted, turning to face him. Gray looked down and swore loudly as he realized he’d lost his jacket, shirt, pants, and one sock, although he still had his other boot. He went to go search for them while Lucy basked in the reprieve his bad habit got her. “You should get home as well to start packing,” she suggested. “We’ll only be there for the day, so it won’t require much.”

 “Got it,” Lucy said, more to appease Erza and get her silence than anything else. She finished her lunch and tossed her trash away, and she was just ready to head home and pack when Mirajane ushered her over to the bar.

 “Give these to Natsu the next time you see him please?” she said with a saccharine smile, handing over a thick orange envelope. Lucy recognized it as one they sent magazines in, but she didn’t take Natsu for a Sorcerer’s Weekly type of guy. Maybe there was a Fire of the Month magazine she never heard of? It certainly was possible.

 “Alright, Mira.”

 “And have fun on your vacation!” she added with an extra teaspoon of sugar, making her smile border creepy territory. Lucy returned it nervously and gave her a quick nod before hurrying past. Maybe, if she walked fast enough, she could escape the Guild’s weirdness behind her. She was heading through the downtown area and towards Strawberry Street when she heard an odd noise in the alley towards her side. She had barely even turned when rough hands seized her around the wrist and mouth, choking off her surprised gasp, then she was thrown back into the grimy wall.

 “Would’ja lookit my luck,” the man leered, eyes roving her body hungrily. She knew she wasn’t dressed too conservatively in her tank top and short shorts, but whatever layers she currently wore were being stripped away in his squinted vision, soon to be in reality as well. “A sexy broad walkin’ by herself…” His breath stank of booze as he leaned in close to her, rubbing his nose up and down her neck. She gritted her teeth in disgust.

 “I’ll have you know I don’t deal with drunks, not even from my own Guild.” She grabbed the handle of her whip and prepared to swing before a sudden invisible force had her pinned against the wall, arm out. The whip and the envelope fell to the ground with a soft noise, followed by his pleased sniggers.

 “Didn’t know I’m a Mage too? Can’t ya tell?” he sneered, taking the whip from her hand and patting her down. She shivered at the feel of his hands on her as he unhooked her belt with her Keys and tossed it into the shadows. “Can’t have ya usin’ these either. Now…” Still bound, she was helpless as he grabbed her tank top and pulled it up to her neck, exposing her pink bra. “Pretty plain—well, doesn’t matter, it’s comin’ off in a second.” His rough fingers felt cold as they reached around the back, fumbling drunkenly with the hook. She was suddenly reminded of warmer, more familiar hands, and squeezed her eyes shut with her jaw straining.

 “Na…tsu,” she managed past the force of his magic.

 “Eh?” he muttered, looking up at her. “What’s that?” When she didn’t speak again he shrugged a shoulder and dragged his hands down her stomach, bringing another shiver, before hooking his fingers around her ample hips, raising his face to hers. She tried to turn away, but his magic was strong even with the alcohol in his system, and the panic built in her throat until she could barely breathe—

 “You bastard!”

 That was the only warning her would-be molester got before a literal fireball slammed into him, tackling him to the hard ground with fists flying before they even made impact. Lucy hurriedly pulled her shirt down and watched with wide eyes as Natsu relentlessly pounded him left and right, left and right, as his face swelled and burned beneath his blazing flames. The heat was unbearable even from her distance, and she had to wonder what it was like for the other guy. Suddenly her mind flashed back to Loki, the attack he committed on him, and she clenched her fists.

 “Natsu, stop it! He’s unconscious, just stop already!” He ignored her, or maybe didn’t hear her, and continued thrashing. Giving an irritated breath, she moved forward and clasped her hands around his waist, digging her thin sandals into the ground and pulling back. She didn’t quite have the physical build to move him, but maybe her presence brought him back, because his flames sputtered out as soon as she made contact and his body went limp, causing them both to flop on the ground from her effort.

 “Oh, gods,” he groaned, rubbing his eyes with the base of his palms, “not again. At least this asshole deserved it…”

 A crowd started to form around the edge of the alley, which soon was followed by the police as expected. They asked Lucy a few questions, which she answered a bit shakily, then cuffed the man, although he had to be taken away to a hospital rather than jail. Natsu’s jaw was clenched with a muscle at the base jumping every so often, and she was afraid for a moment that he’d give chase, and grabbed his arm to steer him away from the commotion. “It’s over. It’s okay. Come on, Natsu,” she urged. He turned and squinted a little, scrutinizing her. The intensity of his gaze felt all too personal.

 “So you’re okay?” She shuddered once, involuntarily.

 “I’ve had worse things happen to me—both of us know it.”

 “Yeah, but—but he touched you! And he almost, he almost…” He growled and grabbed fistfuls of his hair, shaking his head out like a feral animal, before directing his sharp stare at her. “If that’d happened, Lucy…”

 “It didn’t,” was all she had to say, shifting her gaze to her feet.

 “If it had,” he said in the same tone. “That’s all I’m sayin’. You gotta be more careful. I don’t want to see you like that again.” It sounded like a statement, but it came out more like an order. Like something said in desperation. But when she looked up, he was focused on something that wasn’t her, expression aloof.

 “Says the guy that throws himself into danger at every turn,” she said dryly.

 “That’s different,” he muttered crossly. “When I get hurt and when you get hurt are two different things.”

 “What do you mean?” she asked, confused. He didn’t answer, just grunted something unintelligible as he rubbed the back of his neck. She sighed in defeat, letting her hands hit her thighs. “And anyway, we don’t have time for this. I got to get home to pack, and so do yo…” It was then that she saw the magazines scattered from the envelopes. She bent over to pick them up and caught an unwanted glimpse inside one that was splayed with pages open. “Natsu, what’s this?”

 “Uh, your magazines?” he asked, dumbfounded.

 “No, I was asked to give these to you. By Mira.”

 “Oh,” he said, sounding a little anxious. “Well, uh, those are…”

 “You know what? I don’t want to know.” She quickly shoved them in the envelope and pressed them into his chest.

 “I-I’m not a pervert!” he protested as she avoided his eyes.

 “I didn’t say you are.”

 “You’re thinking it! Look, I can explain—”

 “No, really, it’s alright,” she said, putting her hands up to ward him off. He looked like he was caught in a huge internal war as she hurried off, hands over her burning face. I guess Natsu is more sexually aware than I thought, she thought, amazed. Is that a good thing…or a bad thing?