#There is an argument to be made that Nott was first but despite the voice I'm pretty sure that was just Sam

[stardustedknuckles]

Things you realize on a third rewatch: Beau is the first member of the Mighty Nein to say "I love you" to another member of the Nein, and that member was in fact Caleb. Did she say it in passing? Kind of. Did she say it pre-bowlgate, at a time when they weren't even done hissing at each other yet? Yes. Does she possess the bleeding heart everyone can see from thirty paces except for her? Absolutely.

(Caleb is the first to say it altogether, but he is talking to his spirit cat in all fairness. Still. The first two "I love yous" in this campaign are from the two people who are affected the most by the new family they've made and who champion it the hardest. And that's something.)

[wotanidiott]

maybe some draco angst with prompts 20, 17 & 15 (angst ones)? thank you 🤎

—————————————————

The Other Potter

summary - after a heated argument, draco finally confesses, or rather shows you, his hidden feelings

pairing - draco x fem reader, mentions of ron x fem reader

house - gryffindor

time period - 7th year

word count - 2.6k

warnings - very angsty, violence and a whole lot of swearing

a/n - ahhh this is my first official post skdjkssjskksjssk !!!! i hope it’s okay i made the reader harry’s sister? i just randomly came up with the storyline and thought it would fit well with your request ... anyways i hope yall like it <3

prompts

“are you going to cry now?”

“you’re scaring me”

“you’re nothing. you hear me? nothing”

"Y/N!" You heard the distant calling of your name amongst the chatter of the mass of students in the Great Hall. Cocking your head slightly forward from your seat at the Gryffindor table, you found the source of the noise as they barrelled into the entrance with a frantic look in their eyes.

"Neville, what's wrong?" You question him, as he flops onto Seamus Finnigan, seated adjacent from you. Seamus furrows his eyebrows at his friend's breathless state, then looking at you with the same confused expression on your face.

Neville audibly heaves for a good minute, catching his breath from the seemingly long run he underwent.

"Harry, he—" His sentence is interrupted by a lengthy inhale of oxygen.

You perk up at your brother's name. A plethora of questions surfacing in your mind. "Harry? What happened? What did he do now?" You stand up, placing both hands on the table as you peer over at the short-winded boy now laying flat on the floor, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

“He ... he—”

"He what?" You persist.

"Courtyard. He's— A-And Malfoy. "

That's all you needed to snatch your bag off the floor and bolt for the courtyard.

You realised you had developed some sort of attraction to the infamous Slytherin Prince around the start of 5th year. Although, you had assumed it was just a phase. In what world could you ever be attracted to the one guy that makes you and your brother's lives a living hell?

So that's what you had concluded it was. Just a phase. One that had seemingly fizzled out once you started dating Ron and now call a silly mishap.

But that wasn't true at all, was it?

A series of scenarios flickered through your head as you begun to wonder just exactly what had happened for poor Neville to nearly faint from shortness of breath to fetch you.

It must've been urgent.

As you reach the Courtyard, a crowd has formed around the oak tree, most likely watching the interaction between the two boys. Your hand finds the wand tucked in the pocket of your robes, gripping it tightly as you push through the cluster of people to get to the front.

He sees you before you see him.

"Ahhh, how nice of you to join us. Now the other Potter's here, we can really have some fun" Malfoy announces. Sniggers erupt from the group of Slytherins behind him as you finally reach the centre of the circle.

Your eyebrows knit together in perplexity. Malfoy is stood in the middle, surrounded by his goons but there's no sight of Harry.

"Where is he?" You snap at Malfoy, hostility lacing your words as you look around the gathered students agitated.

"Y/N, I'm here!" Harry's voice calls from above. At first your skeptic but as you look up, there he was. Floating in mid-air. Along with Hermione and Ron.

"You bloody git. I'll get you back for this Malfoy. I swear—" Ron is cut off by the single wave of Blaise Zabini's wand, effectively silencing him.

"They look rather comfy up there, Potter. Don't you think? Care to join them?" Malfoy pulls his signature smirk, eyeing you up and down.

The hold on your wand tightens as you whip it out and point it at him, stepping forward. "Oh, I wouldn't if I were you. Unless you want a repeat of fourth year? Don't think we all forgot about you running stark naked around the corridors after your little ferret incident."

The crowd bursts into laughter at your witty comeback. Even Theodore Nott couldn't contain his laughter and eventually gave in when he saw the humiliated look gracing Malfoy's face.

Malfoy's gaze on you hardens, his upper lip curling in contempt as he too takes a step forward. If looks could kill, this would be it. He flicks his wand upwards, still maintaining eye contact and you hear the thud of 3 bodies on your left, followed by grunts from the hard contact as he relinquished the golden trio from his spell.

"Yeah? No wonder Weasel left you for the Mudblood. I would too considering what a bitch you are." He hisses with no remorse.

Gasps emit from the crowd at his harsh riposte.

As much as you'd hate to admit it, the comment hit a nerve. You remained civil with Hermione and Ron after having found out he cheated on you with her but the pain was still there. A guilty expression flickered over the couple's faces as they shot you an apologetic look.

"Awww, are you going to cry now?"

Your wand lowers slightly from the impact of Malfoy's insult and he takes this as an opportunity to cast a leg-locking curse.

However, he underestimated you. You managed to block the spell with a simple protection charm before quickly shouting "Expelliarmus!" Malfoy's wand jumped into your open hand in a fleet of a moment and he was left defenceless.

"I may be a bitch but at least I'm not a disappointment. It's obvious that your Father would rather have anyone— hell, he'd even have Harry rather than you as a son" you scoff, narrowing your eyes at him.

You felt a surge of satisfaction when an emotion that resembled hurt flashed across his face. But it went as soon as it came.

Something in Draco snapped. It was one thing to ridicule him in front of his peers but to bring up his Father? Now that was a whole different ball game. Before he could even stop himself, a barrage of insults came pouring out.

"Are you even hearing yourself? At least I have a Father. And I have a Mother. You? You have no one. Your parents are fucking dead, Potter. You don't even have any recollection of them—"

"MALFOY—"

"Shut the fuck up, Potter" He snaps at Harry then instantly directs his attention to you again. "And as for your sorry brother, I don't even see you two together anymore. He'd rather be around the two people that betrayed you—"

"Draco, mate, I think that's enoug—" Theo tugs on Malfoy's sleeve to get him to stop but he's persistent on speaking his mind.

"Piss off, Nott. A-Around the two people that betrayed you than— than a pathetic excuse for a witch. No one likes nor cares about you. You're nothing, Potter. You hear me? Nothing."

Malfoy appeared deranged in the way he lashed out at you, chest heaving from his rant and wild eyes that looked as if he could kill you right at that moment.

But you didn't care.

You were past the point of caring. You knew all the things he said to you were true, you sometimes even thought it. But it felt like a whole new revelation when he stated it aloud. In front of everyone. Soon the whole school would be talking about this.

But you didn't care.

It was then, Draco knew. He knew he messed up. He took in the wide eyes and gaping mouths of his peers around him. Harry's enraged expression. His friends' guilty body language; despite the fact they played no part in the insult.

Then his eyes swept over to you. He had knocked the life right out of you. You looked ... numb. With your faintly quivering lip and glassy eyes, he realised he had overstepped. Usually, you'd retaliate and he would too until you were both separated by your friends or the professors.

Though, this was different. This was overdoing it.

"R-Right." You managed to say flatly but the distress was clear in your words. The tears in your eyes were threatening to spill and you felt sick. Sick to the stomach about the fact everyone had heard and were most likely going to realise that about you too if they hadn't already.

You had to leave. Bolt out of there before you became a weeping mess.

You turned on your heel and made a beeline for the closest abandoned corridor you knew by heart. You couldn't go to your dorm because Harry would find you there and you wanted to be alone for the time being.

You ignored your brother's calls to come back aswell as Hermione's and a few other fellow Gryffindors you had befriended over the years.

Tear after tear came rolling down your flushed cheeks. Each one representing a time you had bottled up those feelings and refused to give into the 'let it all go' mechanism.

The past 2-3 years had been a blur of pain and heartbreak. Ron and Hermione's betrayal had hit you worse than you thought, combined with Harry's absence and the pitiful treatment your friends had been giving you.

"Potter, wait!"

You whirled round so fast at the all so familiar voice. Out of all people, you hadn't expected him to be the one to follow you.

"Leave me alone, Malfoy. Please— Just .... just please leave me alone" Your plead came out in splutters, unable to fully form a sentence with the state your mind was in.

You swivel back round and begin to continue further down the hallway but you don't get far as Malfoy calls after you again.

"Potter, stop."

"WHAT? WHAT IS IT? YOU WANT TO HUMILIATE ME EVEN MORE? IS THAT IT? WHAT DO YOU FUCKING WANT, MALFOY?" You turn, snapping at him.

Through the swelling anger and haze of your tears, you couldn't make out his expression as he stared intently at your face.

"I— I just wanted to—" Malfoy pauses for a second, struggling to find the right words. After a moment, he simply sighs, eyes travelling to your hand. "My wand. You have my wand." He points at your clenched fists that have both his and your wand in it's tight grip.

At that, you feel immensely stupid for lashing out at him. Huffing, you shove it in his hands and collapse against the vacant corridor's wall out of frustration.

You bury your head in your hands and replay the scene that had just occurred. It was humiliating. Utterly humiliating ... but it was the truth.

"Potter."

You started slightly at the sound of Malfoy's voice. You had expected him to go running back to his goons to ridicule your breakdown yet here he was.

"Wh-What are y-you still doing here?" You managed to reply in between hiccups as you kept your eyes wired shut to cease the ever flowing stream of tears. "Would h-have thought you'd ran off and celebrated this v-victory of yours with the other Slytherins."

"Potter, I—"

"No, you know what, I don't even care anymore." You get to your feet and push yourself off the wall. This would only satisfy Malfoy even further; watching every piece of the facade you managed to maintain, crack and fracture. He didn't deserve to see you like this.

As you swivel round, about to make a run to your dorm, you're pulled back by a harsh grip on your wrist. Cold rings digging into your skin as he spins you back round.

"Well, I do." Malfoy says in almost a whisper.

You shoot him a bemused look at his vague and random words.

He takes in your confused expression and further elaborates. "...Care. I mean." He says, flatly whilst looking around you as if he were avoiding your eyes.

You can't help the scoff that passes through your mouth as you yank your wrist free of his grasp. "You? Care? Yeah, right."

You go to turn again but he stops you once more. "Look, Potter—"

"Malfoy—"

"If you would just—"

"No—"

"Listen to me—"

"Why would—"

In a fleet of a moment, Malfoy shoves you against the wall. His large hand wrapped around the back of your head to mitigate the impact. And the other squeezing your hip to hold you in place.

"FOR FUCK'S SAKE, STOP INTERRUPTING ME. IS IT SO HARD TO SHUT YOUR MOUTH AND FUCKING LISTEN TO WHAT I HAVE TO SAY?"

You open your mouth to protest but you're quickly cut off by his hand leaving your head as it drives into the stone wall right next to your face.

"STOP IT. DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND WHAT LISTEN MEANS, POTTER?"

You jump at the abrupt act of violence combined with the volume and harshness of his words.

"LISTEN."

His fist rams into the wall again.

"TO."

And again.

"ME."

And again.

Your eyes screw shut as you let out a small whimper from the proximity of his punches between the wall and your face. Tears escaping and falling rapidly from the fear he had elicited out of you combined with the occurrence that had put you in this mess in the first place.

Malfoy is pulled out of his momentary ballistic rage at the sound of your small and helpless sounding whimper. He had yet again let his temper get the better of him. Culpability overcame him as he took in your cowering state and he instantly regretted spinning out of control.

"Potter." His voice, eyes and grip had softened drastically, completely contrasting his aura just seconds ago.

"Y-You're scaring me." You murmur.

Malfoy instantaneously takes a step back, releasing you from his hold.

Your eyes fly open and immediately register the immense shame etched on his face.

"I'm sorry. I didn't—" He pauses momentarily, sighing to himself before continuing. "I didn't mean to scare you. Or hurt you. I didn't mean the things I said earlier."

It was an understatement to say you were taken aback by Malfoy apologising. You didn't think he even knew how to.

"You're sorry?" You reply, dubiously.

"Yes. I am."

You squint your eyes at him in suspicion, "No, you're not. Why would you be sorry? You don't even care—"

"Fuck's sake, not again." He cuts you off, shaking his head as he pinches the bridge of his nose out of irritation.

You don't understand. What's his angle? Surely, he doesn't really care. Right?

"What? You don't. Or else you wouldn't have—" You attempt to explain your point of view but he interrupts you once more.

"FUCKING HELL, POTTER. I AM SORRY, OKAY? IS IT SO HARD FOR YOU TO BELIEVE THAT I'M APOLOGISING FOR HURTING YOUR FEELINGS?"

A moment of silence passes between the two of you as you stare at each other.

"Yes." You breathe. "I-I just don't understand why you would—"

Before you could even process what was happening, Malfoy has you pinned to the wall anew but this time with his lips pressed against yours.

You undergo a mixture of all sorts of emotions in the time span of a second. Shock, confusion, disbelief and most of all a tiny spark of exuberance.

He gives you little time to melt into the kiss before he's pulling away already and holding your face in his hands.

You've never been this close to Malfoy before, so needless to say you wouldn't have believed anyone if they said Malfoy actually had the most entrancing eyes. Like a storm brewing behind grey clouds, you thought.

"Does that answer your question?" He asks, a smirk creeping up his face.

You can't help the little smile tugging at the corner of your lips as you attempt to mirror his smirk. "Partly, yes."

Without a second thought, you smash your lips against his, hands travelling to his hair as you lightly tug on the ends.

He slightly moans at this and mumbles in between kisses, "You don't know how long I've been wanting to do this."

"WHAT THE FUCK?!"

You both suddenly pull away from each other as you meet Harry's eyes from the end of the hallway.

Shit.

———————————————————————

masterlist

if you wanna go check out more of my work

taglist

add yourself :))

[gloves94]

To Be So Lonely [Draco Malfoy] 5

Rating: PG-13 Pairings: Draco Malfoy/OC Chapter warnings: Bullying!

Raised as an orphan, Nel Saintday, endured years of torture from the Slytherin House. The Dark Lord only allowed her existence for her to serve a very specific vile purpose for him. Her birthright dictates for her to choose a side in the Wizarding War… But what would happen if she dares defy the Dark Lord and his wishes? And what happens when she falls for her tormentor? Will Nel fulfill her life’s purpose? And what side will her tormentor, Draco Malfoy, choose? The light that calls to him or the darkness…

CHAPTER MASTERLIST MY MASTERLIST

There had to be a mistake.

After a terribly long and very confusing day of classes which included getting lost a handful of times in the castle and landing herself detention. Nel stood outside the office of the Head of her House after a long day of classes.

She still remembered what she had said to Professor McGonagall, the Headmistress, the night before.

"T-There has to be a mistake," she said looking horrified as she addressed the professor.

"The hat does not make mistakes Ms. Saintday," she answered curtly.

She knocked on the heavy door waiting for the professor to invite her in.

"Come in."

Snape's office was exactly what you would expect the one of a Potion's Master to be. It had a particular order in which dozens of vials, boxes, and jaws containing ingredients and other substances were scattered all over the room. On his desk was a stack of scrolls that Nel could only assumed to be student essays. He had been the only professor to assign a ten-inch parchment on the first day of school. He had also assigned her detention for not being able to answer one of the questions he shot at her during his lecture. Something that amused her peers to no end.

"Professor McGonagall has expressed to me that you have some concerns about having been sorted into my house," he said bringing both of his elbows to rest on his desk, he pressed his knotted hands against his lips looking down at the girl before him with his black eyes. "Why is that?"

He looked angry.

"You see sir," She began feeling a little small under his gaze. "I'm very brave. The hat must've made a mistake," She looked down at her green tie and robes. "I just think I'd be a better fit in another house. Maybe I'd be a better Gryffindor? I almost feel as if the Sorting Hat didn't even take my opinion into consideration."

Not to mention all of her pureblood house mates had begun tormenting her due to her blood status, or lack of one.

"You don't look very brave right now," Snape said cooly. Making her self-consciously squirm under his gaze. "Recklessness, ignorance and presumptuousness? Are these traits that you wish to associate yourself with Ms. Saintday? He spat.

"No Sir," She responded tilting her chin down feeling ashamed. "Lift your head foolish girl," the professor spoke harshly. He seemed to have been taken this personally. Hesitantly she lifted it, standing a little taller as to not to seem weak. "I will not have you floundering in someone's chair when confronted Ms. Saintday. Being in this House- being in Slytherin is an honor that should be worn like a badge of pride. This is a privilege that few get in their lives. Tell me Ms. Saintday, what are the traits of a Slytherin?"

"Ambition, cunning and resourcefulness, sir," she responded looking at him in the eye attempting to seem  tougher than she really was.

"Good, now tell me, where you not cunning and resourceful when playing that childish trick on Ms. Parkinson and the others in the train? You must've gone out of your way to ensure that your plan worked out to your convenience. Correct?"

Her eyes went wide. She was expecting Snape to scold her or to take away House Points, but he did neither. Knowing her chamber mate, Parkinson had probably come to snitch on her already.  

"And if I recall correctly you were arrogantly boasting about becoming the 'best witch in your class' back in Diagon Alley. A trait which can be most likely interpreted to be ambition."

Elowen sat in silence. There was no use in arguing with Snape. His arguments were valid. He might've been biased in his opinion regarding Gryffindor House but that was to be expected.

"Now, get out of my office and stop wasting my time with such foolish concerns. I expect a ten-inch parchment on the History of Slytherin House for your detention, and don't let me find you with your head lowered for anyone Ms. Saintday, understood?" Snape said coldly.

She groaned at the mentioning of writing yet another essay. Despite the professor’s icy tone. Showing no weakness and being tough seemed to come with the package that came with being a Slytherin.

Without another word he dismissed her.

Xxxxx

Elowen returned to the Slytherin Common room with her head hung low. The worst part of it all was that she had no way of contacting Lucy. Sure, she could've tried to send an owl to her but communication between Muggles and Wizards like that was prohibited. Not to mention the fact that there were no functional telephones in Hogwarts.

"Cottonmouth," she sighed the password to the portrait and walked through it. A scattered amount of Slytherin were in the common room either hanging out or working on their homework together. The common room was like a snake pit, underground, underwater, with dark leather, wood and fabrics of all sorts of emerald hues. The most comforting part about it were the dim green lights that illuminated the room. The little light that came in through the dark windows reflected the shadows of mysterious water creatures that inhabited the lake.

"Back so suddenly?" Pansy Parkinson turned to shoot her a nasty look. "I'd figure Professor Snape would've dealt with you the proper way."

The girls around her sniggered at her comment. Potions class had been really embarrassing today. Snape had bombarded her with questions she did not know the answer to. He really hadn't been kidding when he had said he had given her some extracurricular material for her to read.

During potions class Draco Malfoy and his friends had been making means jokes at her.  When Nel snapped back, she interrupted Snape's lesson which had her landed in detention with him. Sometimes she couldn't help but feel like the Potions Master was purposely picking on her.

Pansy Parkinson was that girl with the short black hair that Nel had tricked into drinking toad tea back in the train. She quickly learned that she was a snotty, pureblood fanatic and thought she was better than everybody because her father imported and exported wand making supplies from England to other parts of Europe and Asia. It was also very obvious that she had some type of infatuation with Malfoy. She wasted no time in bombarding Nel with questions over dinner constantly stating the fact that she was brought up in a muggle orphanage and didn't have a single galleon to her name.

Nel stopped next to the black sofa arm were Parkinson was sitting and without even giving her a second glance stretched out an arm and roughly pushed her to the floor.

"Hey!" She protested from the carpeted floor. Nel didn’t even see when Pansy's wand shot out a green flash of light at her back.

"Slugulus Eructo!" She hexed.

Nel felt… funny. Sick was probably a better word for it. Her skin took a sallow complexion and her hands reached to her upset stomach.

The Slytherins leaned in eyed peeled waiting for the spell to take effect.

The girl reeled backwards slightly. She opened her mouth to speak but no words came out. Instead she gave a loud belch and a nasty green slug dripped out of her mouth and to the carpeted floor.

The common room was a laughing riot as she horribly gagged on the slime. Eyes growing watery from the horrible feeling.

Pansy was laughing so hard she was also clutching her stomach. The others followed in suit also cackling madly.

She raised her wand her only weapon and casted the only spell she knew, the one she had learned today. Lumos, but nothing happened. This only made them howl louder. Furious, sick, and completely mortified with her eyes watering she considered running out of the room. But she didn't. Pansy didn't see it coming. Before she knew it she was pinned to the ground with Nel's weight on top of her. She glued to her hands to her sides. The orphan smiled wickedly as she looked down at Pansy with vile intent.

She had brought this on herself.

"No! No! No!" Pansy cried out pleading, turning her head as far away from her as possible. Malfoy and Blaise Zabini were on the edge of their seats watching from a nearby chess game. Even Theodore Nott had lowered his book and was staring at the scene in disbelief. Other girls in the room looked disgustedly horrified. Daphne Greengrass looked like she was about to faint.

Nel smirked, she could feel a big slimy one coming. She belched several slugs on Pansy. The girl squirmed and shrieked at the slugs that landed on her. Pansy cried as a string of slimy saliva dripped on her. Elowen cackling maliciously before she felt an arm wrap around her neck in a chokehold and attempt to pull her off the girl.

Bullstrode. Millicent Bullstrode was a large girl who as far as Nel knew, her only positive quality was that she had a cute cat named Hokey. She didn't say or do much, being more of a quiet follower she tailed after Parkinson.

Pansy continued screaming as Nel barfed as many slugs as she could on her, covering her in slime and slugs from head to toe.  Millicent pulled with all of her strength until a booming voice interrupted.

"What is the meaning of this?!" One of the Slytherin prefects rushed into the room. She looked angrier than grossed out by the disgusting scene. With a flick of her wand all three girls pulled apart from each other.

The prefect wasn't patient in demanding an explanation. "You two, Snape's office with me now!" She pointed at Bullstrode and Parkinson. "And you…" Her eyes narrowed at the sick girl. "To Madame Pomfrey, now."

Nel vomited a slug and painfully moaned in disgust. Blaise and Draco were still laughing loudly at the scene.

"Malfoy you seem to be enjoying yourself. Escort Saintday to the infirmary," she barked. Her expression absolutely livid. Draco's mocking face immediately dropped. Blaise laughed at his friend and slapped his arm. "Pipe down Zabini unless you want to accompany Malfoy and Saintday for a walk down slug avenue."

The sick girl would've been lying if she said she didn't need Malfoy to ger to the Hospital Wing. Besides Malfoy's protesting and groaning the two made way to the West Lower Floor. Nel stopping to throw up her guts every couple of steps. Her complexion chalky, eyes watery. She made a mental note never to consume jello ever again in her life.

From her peripheral vision she saw Malfoy edging closer to her.

"Stay away from me," she raised a hand to keep him at a distance and glared at him. If he got any closer, she wouldn’t' have a problem projectile vomiting a slug in his direction.

"Hn," He leaned against the wall crossing his arms over his chest. "Suits you. That's what you deserve for making us drink that disgusting tea. Slugbreath."

That's it.

True to her word she turned and vomited a slug which landed on his emerald green jumper. "Ugh! Yuck!" He grimaced flicking it off his person.

She smirked in his direction. "Strange how I'm starting to feel better." She brushed past him.

Draco looked at her in disbelief. How was it possible to dislike someone so much in a day?

"Disgusting!" He exclaimed in a whiny breath.

"I know," she shot back with an unladylike groan as a slug nastily rolled down her chin.

"I don't mean the slugs," he wrinkled his nose. "I mean you," he shot back upset.

She turned to him angrily and grabbed his arms tightly pulling him close getting ready to aim a fat one straight at his face. "Get your filthy Mudblood hands off me!" "Stop calling me that!"  She said angrily still not knowing the severity of the slur he used against her.

A loud gasp made them both snap their heads away from each other’s fronts. They both turned to see a very horrified Madame Pomfrey looking at the two. "Mr. Malfoy! Ms. Saintday! What is the meaning on this?" She scolded. It seemed like she hadn't heard their conversation.

"I was asked to escort Saintday here," Draco pushed Nel's hands from his body. "And now I'm done," he scowled in her direction before stalking off to return to the Slytherin Common Room. She seethed glaring at his retreating back.

"Slugs! And on the first day…" Pomfrey sighed irritate. "Come along dear," She said placing a hand on the girl's shoulder keeping a stoic expression as she puked a couple of slugs out. "On the first day… And I don't even have any Treacle fudge for you."

Pomfrey had a terrible feeling it wouldn't be the first or last time that she found Elowen Saintday on one of her hospital beds. The Matron made the ill girl sit on a bed and gave her a basinet and some bubbly lime beverage to keep the nausea away. She said the hex should pass in a couple of  hours and advised Nel to spend the night in the room in case she still felt sick. Sometime later the Matron retreated to her private chamber leaving Nel alone in the spacious room.

She had been holding it together so well but being alone in the austere room. At night. Having no way to contact Lucy or anyone to talk to… Nel hugged the wooden basinet close to her torso more for comfort as she spat another slug out. Tears she had been holding all day slipped down her face from the nausea and mostly from the humiliation of having been spitting slugs out before her housemates. Not only that but her embarrassing faint attempt to strike Parkinson with a pathetic Lumos…

She sniffled, crying, and hiccupping through nasal breaths.

Laughter could be heard from the corridor approaching the entrance of the Hospital Ward. She gasped lightly and furiously wiped away her tears.

The door opened and she saw two figures shushing each other entering the hospital ward. The figures stepped in and they initially did not notice the girl that was sitting on the bed. They basically tiptoed in and began raiding Madame Pomfrey's cabinet taking few things, just enough so that she would not notice.

"Looks like she's out of Treacle fudge," one said to the other.

Weak sniffling filled the dark room and the two boys turned back to look at a pair of dark eyes that seemed to glow in the darkness. They saw a first year Slytherin girl weakly sniffling and hugging what looked like a bucket close to her chest.

The Gryffindors looked at each other for a moment before approaching the edge of the bed.

"I didn't know Slytherins could cry," one of them spoke with particular jest. "I didn't know Slytherins had tear ducts at all." The other added.

"I-I'm not crying!" She said defensively feeling her face burning from the embarrassment before a nasty slug made its way out of her throat in a nasty belch. This was mortifying and in front of these two boys…

She looked down avoiding their prying gazes.

"Eat slugs," The one said clicking his tongue, stating the hex she was under. "Rather nasty one," the other spoke.

Looking at them, recognizing the fiery red hair she realized they looked awfully familiar. Of course! She'd seen them at King's Cross with Ron and his family. They were probably his older brothers.

"I take it those gits at Slytherin haven't been very welcoming, have they?"

She shook her head slightly, eyes still lowered in shame.

"I deserve it," she spat some slime into the bucket. "I did make them drink that toad tea."

She wasn't expecting them to react so excitedly to that statement. "That was you!" One exclaimed before laughing loudly. "You're the girl Ron told us about!" the other added. "That was bloody brilliant!" They laughed.

"Tell you what," one of the redheads said. "Everybody knows House Slytherin is filled with pompous gits, but anybody that makes Malfoy croak outta be decent." She arched an eyebrow at this. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking George?" One looked at the other with a mischievous look. "Read my mind Fred," The other said with a peculiar glint in his eye. The twins split and both took a side next to the girl. She looked back and forth between them confused.  

"Your wand?" One said. She couldn't tell which one of them was Fred and which one was George. Diving into her pocket she pulled out her wand.

"Alright, we're going to teach you a very illegal spell." One whispered wickedly draping an arm over her shoulders as if he had known her his entire life. The other did the same. "Use it wisely. Can't let those gits have the upper hand. Can we?"

"Here's a word of warning, it only works on fatheads," one of the twins sniggered.

"By the way I'm George," one said pointing a thumb at himself. "And I'm Fred," the other introduced himself. "Just kidding!" They suddenly said in unison before she could introduce herself. And they once again introduced themselves by the others name before laughing at her confused expression.

"Call me Nel."

[xx-thedarklord-xx]

Thine Enemy is Sweet (Part 14)

Part One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen Ao3

Pain, it lingers and thoughts of a time when it’s absence prevailed occupied Harry’s mind. He had spent weeks telling himself that with each passing day, he was closer to forgetting, closer to moving on. Heartbreak wasn’t forever, he’d get back to a time when there was no Malfoy occupying his mind, back to a time when all he had was school memories and war thoughts that were best left in the past. He was just another statistic for the millions of people who were scorned by potential love. That’s all it was, his mind knew this, understood that it would just take some time, and he too would move on.

But what use was it when his heart wasn’t listening?

While Malfoy had once spent time with what-ifs over revenge, Harry’s time was spent wondering the what-ifs of his own choices. What if he had stayed? What if he had extended the olive branch? What if they could have talked it out? What if he had sacrificed a smidgen of his own morals to keep whatever they had been headed for?

What if?

What was the bloody point of a what-if, if all it did was leave him wanting more?

Harry sat on the floor, head tipped back to look at the ceiling as he tried to forget about the what-ifs, even if just for a moment. His memories taunted him, whispered the remembrances of when he had done the same with Malfoy. The ceiling may be blank, boring and empty now, but he remembered when it had been bewitched for him to see something beautiful. Just as he had been bewitched to see Malfoy in the same light.

The sound of his floo went off but he ignored it, just as he had every other time a visitor arrived.

“Go away.”

“When Ron said it was bad, I didn’t think you’d be on the floor.”

Harry tried his best to glare but that would require looking away from the ceiling and he wasn’t in the mood to humour anyone.

“I’m surprised he sent you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Seamus’ voice was higher pitched at the end and the outrage might have been humorous another time.

“You’re not usually the one sent in for delicate situations.”

“And is that this?” Seamus asked, sitting on the floor next to him. “Are you delicate?”

Delicate. Some would consider it an insult and perhaps in this context it was, but he’d never been allowed to be delicate before. In another setting, perhaps he’d explore that.

“I don’t know,” he whispered truthfully. “I feel like I’m being dramatic, that it’s stupid to be hung up on someone who was never mine.”

“Hey,” Seamus knocked his shoulder against Harry’s. “What you’re feeling is valid, don’t talk yourself out of the limited comfort you have.”

Harry rested his head on a bent knee and looked at Seamus for the first time.

“Why so serious?” It wasn’t like him and it was unnerving.

Seamus fiddled with his fingers, a habit Harry hadn’t seen since school.

“I know what you’re going through.” It was whispered so quietly, something that didn’t fit in with who Seamus was. Quiet was out of place when all he was used to was sound.

“That, and I’m also clean.”

“What do you mean?”

“Haven’t smoked in a few days. Maybe later, but not today.”

“No,” Harry smacked him in the arm. “Not that.”

“I’ve been in a similar situation.” Seamus rubbed the back of his neck before taking a deep breath.

“I never told anyone, mainly because I was embarrassed, and I didn’t want to put energy into something that was obviously never going to happen.”

“You fell for someone you couldn’t have?”

There was no response, no sign that he even heard Harry.

“Sometimes, how people perceive us is out of our control. You found a best mate in Ron and we both know that went both ways.”

“You were in love with Ron?”

It was Harry’s turn to get smacked.

“No, you tosser.” His lips were quirked and for a brief moment, it was like Harry got his happy friend back. Only, the smile left and was replaced with a bit lip and sad eyes.

“I fell in love with my best friend.”

Whoa. Harry lifted his head and his brows arched. There had never been any inkling of that. Dean and Seamus were a duo, just like Ron and him. Best mates, bros.  

“But uh, isn’t Dean—”

“Straight?” The laugh Seamus let out was sad, and it tugged at his already bruised heart. “Yeah, he is.”

The fiddling increased while Seamus’ voice decreased, and Harry had to lean in to hear him.

“I knew that, I’ve always known that. We were friends. I never had a friend like him before and I knew he felt the same. That’s what we were supposed to be, just friends. But then things changed, or at least I did. My feelings changed while his remained the same.”

“You never told him?”

“Merlin no,” Seamus blinked rapidly before he scooted closer to Harry. “What good what it have done? He would have rejected me—kindly—but still let me down. He would  have emphasized that he’s straight, emphasized our friendship and then things could have gotten weird.”

“Could have.”

“I know,” Seamus shrugged before he picked up one of Harry’s hands and fiddled with his fingers instead. “I can’t ever say for certain what would have happened. If Dean had been bisexual, then maybe it would have just been me that he didn’t want. That at least would have been closure. I can’t control his feelings or his sexuality, nor would I want to. Despite that, despite the arguments in my head, I couldn’t stop my heart from jumping headfirst into heartbreak.”

It was getting too close to home for Harry. He’d rather talk about Seamus’ issues than think about his own.

“How did you get over it?”

“I don’t think I ever did, not completely.”

“Well, that’s… discouraging.”

A wet laugh was his response and it had Harry pulling him into a hug.

“I loved him,” Seamus’ fingers dug into his robes. “I didn’t fall for some things; I fell for everything. From the way he joked, to how he’d care and even when he was angry, because it always stemmed from worry. Dean is a remarkable person and sometimes I wonder if it was inevitable that I’d fall for him. But if that were true, then I was destined to watch him from afar.”

“That’s a shitty lot in life.”

“It’s the only one I have,” Seamus mumbled, voice muffled as he laid his head on Harry’s shoulder. “Every time he fell in love, I was the one he went to, eyes bright and a smile that shattered me. Watching him fall in love was as beautiful as I imagined, only it wasn’t me on the other end.”

A quiet sob had Harry holding on tighter.

“I never had him, Harry. So why did it hurt so bad?”

“Because we’re humans run by emotions that go too deep to understand.”

“Get rid of them,” Seamus sniffled. “They’re useless.”

“Did it ever get easier?” Harry wondered as he patted the back of Seamus’ head. “Loving him from afar?”

A shrug was uncomfortable with their positions but that didn’t stop Seamus from doing it, repeatedly.

“It went from a gaping pain to a dull ache, but the ache never went away. I’m not like other people, those who would have just moved on. How could I when everything I loved about him never left? Everything that I fell in love with is still a part of who he is.”

“Would it have been easier to leave? Save yourself from the pain.”

“No,” Seamus lifted his head enough that Harry could see glassy eyes. “I couldn’t lose him, not over that. Having him in my life was more important than my feelings, and that’s still true today. I don’t think I’d have made it through a lot of my life without him.”

Harry wasn’t so sure that was true. Sure, it would have been harder, and things would have been different, but Seamus wasn’t someone to roll over and give in. He would have made it.

“Being around him now, is it easy?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Seamus nodded. “Sometimes when he mentions a date, my stomach clenches but then it eases because I still have him, just not in the way I wanted. But that’s okay, I’ve accepted that, no matter how much it hurts.”

That’s where any similarities ended. Harry wasn’t friends with Draco and there was no silver lining. There wasn’t something to fall back on if romance wasn’t an option. Seamus still got Dean, however differently than intended, but what did Harry have?

A bruised heart and swollen eyes.

“Finding partners that actually want you is a plus too.”

“Oh?” Harry leaned away till he could see Seamus’ face. There was a pink hue to his cheeks and that wasn’t something that happened too often.

“Don’t tell me it’s Parkinson. Neville said you two stayed in contact after the party, but I didn’t think anything came of it.”

“She’s not what she projects.”

He wasn’t sure about that either, but if falling for Malfoy had taught him anything, it was that there was more to people than what is always shown.

“Pansy understands me,” Seamus whispered. “She’s been through the same thing.”

The look in his eyes had Harry frowning.

“You don’t mean—” Had Parkinson fallen in love with Draco at some point? Was that what Seamus was getting at? Or perhaps Zabini?

“I chose Dean over my feelings, but Pansy put herself first, and I admire that in a way. I can’t begrudge her for that, not when there were times I had wished I had done the same.”

“You think you’ll get your happy ending?” Harry teased and couldn’t stop a grin when a Seamus smiled shyly.

“Too soon to tell, but I like the odds.”

“I’m happy for you, you deserve a happy ending.”

“So do you.”

Harry looked away and tried not to get upset, but it was hard.

“We’re not like you, Seamus. The situations are similar but so different.”

“Yeah, because you still have a chance while I never did.”

He hated that his heart lurched at the words. When would his heart and his mind agree on something?

“I don’t think we do.”

“Why?” Seamus sat up, legs crossed, and arms folded. “Because of what he did? Nott fucking deserved it.”

Harry blinked rapidly at the censure in his voice. It would seem today was filled with a lot of firsts.

“I know you don’t think so,” Seamus held up a hand when Harry opened his mouth. “That’s fine, we don’t have to agree. But tell me, if it had been me or Ron or anyone else you know that did it, would you have walked away so easily?”

“It wasn’t easy,” Harry argued, and the irony of repeating Draco’s words was not lost on him. “It hurt the both of us.”

“Would you have?” Seamus repeated, ignoring him. “Humor me, Harry.”

“No,” he answered.

“Is it because it’s Malfoy that did it, or is it the act itself?”

It was too much, too much to think about. Why couldn’t he just wallow and be miserable like everyone else in the world?

“I don’t know.” The line was blurred, and he wasn’t sure he liked it.

“If your morals rely on who’s doing it, then was it ever a moral to begin with?”

Harry threw his hands in the air. “There’s a big difference between Draco and the rest of us.”

“Oh? Like what?”

“I’m not in love with you guys!”

The admission startled Harry unlike Seamus who smiled. Falling for Draco was a lot different than loving him. Could he love him? Even now? Thinking about it brought new rounds of arguments that his mind never ceased to let go.

“You hold him at a higher standard because you love him?”

“Can you not say that word.”

Seamus snorted. “You said it first.”

“You tricked me.”

“Would you have admitted it otherwise?”

“Yes—no, maybe. I don’t know! Why am I being interrogated?”

“I just want you to really think about it. Was it so unforgivable that it’s worth walking away from? He didn’t do it to you.”

“But he could.”

Seamus’ forehead wrinkled as he leaned forward. “Is that what’s bothering you? You think you’ll be next in his line of cruelty?”

“It was cruel,” Harry agreed. “Cruelty came so easy to him and that worries me. It crossed a line in my own morality, whether it’s a hypocritical one or not.”

“Can you forgive what was never your outrage to begin with? He did it to Nott, that’s who would have the biggest say in this mess—not that any of us give a fuck what he thinks,” Seamus shrugged.

Harry was confused, and the longer Seamus talked, the more he wasn’t sure of anything anymore.

“I know this goes against what you’ve been shown, but people aren’t just good and bad.”

“I know that.”

“Do you?” Seamus asked. “Most of the time you see people in shades of you.”

“What does that even mean?”

“Harry, you’re good, inherently good. You view situations in what you would do but not everyone can be on the same moral level as you. If you expect Malfoy or anyone else to treat others as you do, you’re always going to be let down.”

He leaned back on his hands as he listened to Seamus. He wasn’t stupid, he knew that people were complex and not easily definable as good or bad, but he never stopped to think he was holding people to the standard he gives himself, one that maybe they couldn’t match.

“Malfoy’s not a good person.”

Before he could interrupt, Seamus continued on with a pointed glance in his direction.

“I’m sure he can be, just as I know that he’s not bad either, but I know he can be. If people fell on a scale as you like to see it as, I think he’d be somewhere in the middle; some days teetering back and forth.”

“I’m not comfortable with what he did,” Harry said, eyes on his hands. “That wasn’t what I expected.”

“But you expected something,” Seamus pointed out. “And I think that’s part of the problem. You knew he was planning something and went along with it, blindly. I think your guilt is louder than your outrage.”

“I didn’t want to hurt Nott, at least not like that.”

“Unintentional or not, you were a part of the scheme. You chose Malfoy and while you can’t control him, some of his actions come back on you and I think that’s the root of a lot of this.”

“I don’t think I like wise Seamus,” Harry complained as he laid down and looked at the ceiling. “I want the Seamus who agrees with my ideas.”

“I agree with you when you’re right.”

“You think I’m wrong?”

Seamus laid down too and Harry was grateful for him, grateful that his friends cared so deeply.

“I think you don’t know what to think. You’re confused, hurt, guilty and it’s easier to step away than to analyze it.”

“I do feel guilty,” he admitted. It was uncomfortable, both in the aspect of what he failed to do and in admitting it all together.

Seamus rolled onto his side, elbow propped up and hand resting on his hand. “Good, that’s a starting point. Decide what you want to do about that and let the rest happen on its own.”

“It’s a bit daunting.”

“Love always is.”

Love. Harry sighed, both at the notion and the idea of tackling it. Love had never worked out for him, it always ended in breakups, sadness and missed opportunities. Malfoy seemed to be all of them at once and he wasn’t sure that could be changed.

But… he wanted to try.  

 —-------------------

 Apologies are hard, but apologizing to those you hate? Even harder.

Harry took a deep breath before he barged in, no knocking, no words, zero pleasantries.

“Whoa—” Nott pulled out his wand as soon as he saw him. “What the fuck do you want? Come to put me in a coma, have you?”

“Put that away,” Ron said, eyes on a folder as he walked into the room. “Your magic won’t work in here anyway; your wand is suppressed until you leave St. Mungo’s perimeters.”

“Get him out of here,” Nott growled, wand still uselessly pointed at Harry.

“I’d love to but he’s a signed in visitor to your room for the next 10 minutes.”

“I’m here for a follow-up, what do I need visitors for?”

Ron continued to read from the folder, occasionally making non-committal noises as he leafed through the papers.

“Your vital signs are good; the medicine we gave you seems to be working as it should. There were no long-lasting repercussions, and I’ve got a potion script for your headaches so you won’t have to be careless and use experimental spells.  Now, have you been experiencing any side-effects?”

“Uh,” Nott shifted under the onslaught of information before he shook his head.

“Great,” Ron grinned, smile polite but fake. “My work is done then. I’d like to see you back here in 3 weeks and we can have a final check-up.”

A wary glance at Harry had him rolling his eyes. Honestly, what did Nott think he’d do? They were in a bloody hospital for crying out loud.

“If that’s all, then I’m free to go?” He asked, already moving out of his chair.

“You can in—” Ron checked his watch, tongue poking out. “About 7 minutes.”

“What?”

“You can leave when I’m done talking,” Harry said, arms folded across his chest.

“Fuck this.” Nott stood up to go but Ron’s voice stilled him.

“Either you stay and listen to him or I’ll have you coming to see me every other day for the next month. Since I oh so very much care about your wellbeing.”

“That’s blackmail.”

Ron tilted his head. “I call it going above and beyond for my patients.”

“You’re not even my healer.”

“Ah,” Ron handed him a piece of parchment. “That’s where you are wrong. Your healer has handed me over the case due to a prior engagement.”

“How convenient,” Nott sneered.

“7 minutes out of your life talking to me won’t kill you,” Harry said, already annoyed.  

“No, but you almost did.”

Before Harry could argue, Ron clapped once.

“Which is why I’m here. I’m the silent mediator.”

“Silent means you’d shut up.”

Ron arched his brows as he began writing in the folder. “I could make it every day if you keep it up.”

Nott didn’t say anything, but he did pull a face like the mature individual he was.

“I’ve come to apologize,”  Harry said, and Merlin did that sting. Nott sat up straighter as he finally gave Harry his undivided attention.

“I didn’t know what Draco had planned, if I had I would have stopped him.”

“You expect me to believe that?”

“I don’t give a fuck what you think,” Harry clenched his jaw. The more Nott talked, the more he wished he hadn’t shown up. “I’m telling you how it was.”

Nott examined his fingers and the action reminded him so much of Draco that it hurt. “If you didn’t know what he had planned, why were you there at all?”

“To get my ring back. The ring that I made, the ring that I spent weeks on, the ring that I proposed to you with. You had no right to give it to Astoria.”

“You gave it to me, that makes it mine to do whatever I want with.”

The very limited sympathy he had for Nott quickly evaporated. What he ever saw in him was a mystery, one for the Unspeakables to solve, because clearly, something had been amiss.

“I’m not here to argue with you. Merlin knows we did enough of that during our relationship to last lifetimes. Save it for someone who cares.”

“You obviously do,” Nott lifted both his hands. “You came to me.”

“Yeah, to apologize for my part in what happened. I could have handled it differently, or even stopped Draco. That’s all I’m apologizing for.”

“Figures,” snorted Nott. “I almost died and you’re giving me nothing but empty and useless apologies.”

“What do you want from me? To apologize on Draco’s behalf. We both know he doesn’t regret a damn thing. If you’re waiting on an apology from him, do hold your breath, it’ll make my day.”

“Charming as ever. I see you’ve stooped below your status.”

Status. That’s all he ever was to Nott, a bloody status. Someone who wasn’t allowed to show emotions, someone who couldn’t be like everyone else, couldn’t have flaws.

“I see you’ve never changed,” Harry whispered as he turned to leave. “You know, back then when you left, I blamed myself, but I thank God every day that I never married you.”

“For what it’s worth,” Nott called after him. “I did love you.”

“I’d rather you hadn’t,” said Harry, hand on the doorknob. “To use the ones you love is despicable. But that’s always been you, so I’m not surprised.”

He shut the door on whatever Nott was yelling after him. He didn’t care to stick around. Part of him regretted coming at all but the rest of him knew it had to be done. His conscious wouldn’t have allowed him not to.

If his conscience could apologize to a colossal twat like Nott, then his heart could get what it wanted; Draco.

Always Draco. 

—To Be Continued—   

----------

Back, quicker than I was before, always a plus.I want to stress that I do still have one more update left, this isn’t the end. Stay tuned. Once again, I have a longer AN on Ao3 so I’ll give a shortened version here. 

I have had a lot of fun writing Seamus, I love how quirky he is, how carefree and just funny that I was able to explore in this story but I also loved writing him in this chapter. His seriousness was needed for Harry. I hope the conversation with Seamus and Harry helped show that it's not all about Draco's actions that were the problem. That a lot of his issues stems from his own behaviour that he had a problem with.

As for the apology. I think apologizing to someone like Nott would be so fucking hard. But I think that's part of why he did it. Wants have never really been a deciding factor for Harry. All the stuff that happened to him was never a want but he adapted and did it anyway. This was just something he needed to do for himself. 

---------

Tag List 

@biconpotter @ive-been-found @h2octopuppy @watermystic78 @its-soupin-time @a-couchpotato @meghansm @portiamarie02 @irishbeings @lilyinthebreeze @rumpixel @idgiedw @tommydarlin @dolewhipdreamer @trans-nik-sion @mistydeath @yourspookysoul @bubbleblower @renas @silver-mercurials @puffbts @jasmine-tw @victorieinthesmallthings @gens-venturia @unicornhair-core @orkedad @juju092118 @pilesofriles @drarryybabyy @sweetlialia @bughug1999 @thesimplethingsaresweet @cookiepufflove @dagger222 @dianiedisaster @sorgenprinzessin @kingsipning @february-skye @spidey-pal @myrvaenboys @cportera @mydarlingdielle @just-some-bibliophile @abstractundefined @latetotheapocolypse @isee-throughme

[evienott]

( CISFEMALE , SHE/HER ) EVELYN “EVIE” NOTT is a GRYFFINDOR whose favorite subject is ANCIENT RUNES, maybe because they are FREE-SPIRITED but also RECKLESS. They might be so popular because they look like DANIELLE CAMPBELL and they are a PUREBLOOD, can you believe they are a SIXTH YEAR? rumors say they support NEUTRAL. where do they go from here? ( asbury, 25, they/them, est )

basics  —

Full Name: Evelyn Matilda “Evie” Nott

Age: Sixteen

Birthday: November 11; Scorpio

Blood Status: Pureblood

personality  —

(+) Positive Traits: Free-spirited, curious, steadfast, confident

(-) Negative Traits: Reckless, hedonistic, petty, vindictive

life at hogwarts  —

House: Gryffindor

Year: Sixth

Wand: Blackthorn wood, 8 and ½ inches, with a phoenix tail feather, slightly swishy. 

Best Class: Ancient Runes

Worse class: Arthimancy

Pets: A skunk named Priscilla (the sprayer has been removed), an arctic fox named Ghost, a puffskein named Arizona, and a giant purple toad named Magnolia (sorry to everyone in Gryffindor tower)

Boggart: Herself soaked in water after drowning

Patronus: Unknown (she hasn’t been able to produce one)

Extracurriculars: Gryffindor Quidditch team (beater), dueling club

biography —

(tw: pregnancy)

Chapter 1.  

 Growing up as the youngest child in a family that belonged to the Sacred 28 wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. From a young age, Evelyn realized to tread lightly, to watch her step and to hide behind her mother for protection. Her father wasn’t the most empathetic of individuals, or empathetic at all, and she had learned that the silence in their house was a bad sign very quickly. When she and her brother were in trouble, their father didn’t raise his voice, which only made him more menacing. And it didn’t take much for him to get angry. Unfortunately, his temper was something Evelyn had inherited. Despite her mother continually telling her not to cause an argument or to talk back, Evelyn never listened and always let her short fuse get the better of her. Growing up meant she was forming her own opinions and becoming her own person and, while her mother still held onto her pureblood ideals, she was far more tolerant than Evelyn’s father. Once, while her mother was out shopping, she’d ignored the calls to go inside and continued playing. Her father was angry at her behavior and locked her outside while thunderclouds began to roll over the area, despite her horrible fear of drowning. 

Her parents had only been teenagers when they had her, unprepared to raise two children when they hadn’t even loved each other to begin with and when Evelyn was old enough, they divorced. Where her brother chose to stay with their father, Evelyn went with their mother. She’d always been closer to her to begin and she begged Leo to join them, but he had refused and stayed with their father. That had been crushing to her as a seven year old, but nothing she said had changed his mind. Despite their separation, she did her best to stay close to her brother, writing letters as often as she could and eagerly awaiting a letter from him in return. Other than Alecto Carrow, who she had spent a lot of time with, getting shoved into a room together during dinners with their parents, Leo was her best friend and being away from him hurt. 

Chapter 2. 

It was almost with a sick sense of satisfaction that Evie got sorted into Gryffindor. It would have given her father a heart attack if she knew and remembering that he wasn’t a good person and her brother had chose to stay, she wished it would. Being the kind of person he was, she had very clear desires that she wanted from her father: for him to die. That Hat had almost a genuine hatstall, trying to figure out where to put her. Her curiosity spoke to Ravenclaw, her propensity towards nursing animals back to health to Hufflepuff. Slytherin was briefly considered but she firmly asked not to be placed there, because it would mean she was the type of person her father wanted her to be and that was the last type of person she wanted to be. At every point the Hat made, she argued against it, not even sure what she was arguing for. Fed up, it had asked where she wanted to be put and she said Gryffindor, without hesitation. Why? Because it would make a large majority of the Sacred 28 angry and that was fun for her (despite the Hat saying that was a very Slytherin reason). It had called out Gryffindor four minutes after Evie had the Hat placed upon her head. 

The first animal she brought in with her was a toad, named Magnolia, and it was her best friend for the first few months of school. The toad usually perched on her head and she took to wearing her hair in a manner that helped her rest comfortably. Spring break of her first year, she returned with a rabbit she had saved from a polecat and nursed back to heath. No one had known she snuck it in until one of the older girls noticed it had escaped from the first year dorms. Even her mother thought it had been released into the wild. That started the long standing (six years as of the beginning of school this year) tradition of her seeing how many animals she could smuggle into the castle. The girls in her year have generally agreed that as long as she cleaned up after them, they didn’t have an issue and the girls in the years below were thrilled to be involved in such a secret. This is the first year she’s ever been so brazen as to enter the castle with three pets that aren’t allowed. (Although a bat was probably her most ambitious of them, but it escaped after Peeves startled her. Rumour has it, the bat is still flying around the castle somewhere.) 

Chapter 3. 

Though her father was a Death Eater, her mother had never gotten a Dark Mark herself. She followed the ideals, though not as stringently, and as distance passed and she was separated from her ex-husband, her mother’s views had opened up far more and she’d proven to be kinder and more tolerant than her ex. That had introduced a whole new set of ideals for Evelyn. Despite having grown up best friends with one of the Dark Lord’s more devoted followers, she firmly doesn’t believe in the ideas he preached. Part of her chalks it up to having had her mother’s influence affect her, but a small part of her knows that even if she’d been raised by both of them and her father was in her life, she wouldn’t have become a Death Eater purely out of spite. They both had tempers, their anger clashed. Evie never took it lying down as a child and had found hatred for him very young. Anything she could do to piss him off, she would.

It didn’t even hit her until her fourth year that she was living out of spite and to anger a man who didn’t give a damn about her. Who probably had never heard about any of the things she had been doing. Or rather, the people she had been doing. But by that point, it had been too late for her to change her ways, because she found herself throwing up one morning and realized with a horrible thought that she was late. An emergency trip to St. Mungo’s confirmed that she was pregnant. And despite her trying to convince her mother to let her stay in the castle over breaks so she didn’t have to admit the truth, she had to return home. Though her mother would have allowed her to be homeschooled for the rest of the year so she didn’t have to attend school pregnant (as she had done with Leo), Evie went back and had her daughter, slightly premature, three days after the end of her fourth year. Despite how badly she wanted to keep her daughter, the adoption had already been planned out. 

Chapter 4.

Any therapist worth their salt would say that she channeled the pain from giving up her child into taking care of animals and, if she wasn’t still upset over it, Evie would probably agree with them. But she had never been the type to slow down and being pregnant had kept her from the dueling club, from playing quidditch, and generally being comfortable. She pretends that she isn’t upset, that the year and a half it’s been has been enough time to heal the hurt, but it hasn’t. She just allows herself to find new things to fill the gap, keep her entertained, and maybe she can pretend it didn’t happen. At the very least, news of the Dark Lord falling had distracted her over the summer. Her mother had reached out to her brother, and she’d even heard that her father wasn’t doing too well. A very large part of her was glad. He didn’t deserve to be doing well. 

But she was worried about her brother. Leo, who had stayed with him, who had conceivably joined the Death Eaters in their father’s footsteps. It doesn’t seem like him, like the Leo he was behind the mask, when they were together, but people did what they had to do to survive and her brother was no exception. Frankly, she’s glad he’s dead, but primarily because she had a vendetta against anything that made her father happy. Despite knowing that she hasn’t seen or heard from him in years or that he doesn’t care how she’s doing, she still wants him to suffer in every way imaginable. If she has to, she’ll even take matters into her own hands. 

[mollymauc]

a caduceus flavored ficlet bcus i love this emotional support firbolg

The road offers little room for elaborate meals, but he pours over the cookbooks in his downtime when the mood strikes him. What a smart thing, he reflects, thinking on how convenient it was to have such a collection of recipes all in one place. In all his seasons the art of cooking had been passed by words and observation, and when Caduceus could not fully recall all the elements of a meal he simply made it up as he went along. Experimentation was part of what made cooking so enjoyable, he never was one to make exactly the same meal twice.

Unfortunately, Jester's gifts go forgotten for a time. As their travels take them into Felderwin the tides are even more tumultuous than those of the sea which had been their home these long weeks past. It's difficult to find a moment of peace as tensions heighten, fingers caught in strings more tangled than any could have realized.

Caleb almost leaves. Panic and tears when he is simply gone one morning. Caduceus knew, had watched him slip away with a careful gaze the wizard hadn't even noticed. Even in the anger there is hurt from his absence. Beau furiously rubbing her eyes with bleeding knuckles. Loss sits heavily in these people and even he thinks of the final time his sister walked out the door.

He had watched her go, too.

Caduceus quells them as best he can and while it does't work entirely, there is something in him that calms the nerves. "He'll be back." It isn't a hopeful statement, but one spoken honestly. Like he has some great insight to future events. Maybe they don't all believe him, but they all want to, and it's enough.

They still go out looking for him. Jester offers sending, Nott almost demands it of her, but Caduceus advises against it. "Mister Caleb is at a delicate spot. Better not to overwhelm him. He's like a cornered animal right now, you've got to go slow or you'll only drive him away faster and further." Despite some protests it's too sensible of an argument to truly rebuke. They agree that come morning Jester is allowed to pester him as much as she sees fit.

It's a little hypocritical of him, but as Caduceus trails behind their search party he closes his eyes and thinks of Caleb. Of the hesitation as he crossed the threshold. He wonders if Frumpkin is around, keeping a watch with careful eyes. 'You know what to do,' a gentle phrase, he knows the art of simple effectiveness. There is no reply, but just as it is with the Wildmother he doesn't always need to hear her voice to know she's listening.

He comes back to them that night.

There's a great deal to talk about and not nearly enough of it gets said, but one thing is agreed upon. They need to make things right. And they will, Caduceus has faith. How they'll get there remains to be seen, but they're resourceful folks who have triumphant over even the most bleak of situations.

As they pack up to leave Felderwin a book falls out of his bag. A cookbook.

The idea stays with him on the road. Things are tense and full of uncertainty as none of them know what the future holds. Long stretches as quiet as they journey onward, with everyone feeling the weight on their shoulders. A dismal atmosphere with a bleak tone that didn't quite sit right with Caduceus. It didn't fit any of them.

When they reach a small town most of them split their own ways to do various tasks or to simply shut themselves in a room.

He thinks about asking Jester for her help. She has a way with all of the Mighty Nein that no other does, with her boundless enthusiasm and beautiful heart, it didn't take natural perception to know she was the true backbone of them. Still, the spine couldn't support a body all on it's own. Try as she might to be chipper as she always was even Jester had her share of trouble. With the group as it was it was hard to ignore. Bad thoughts creeping in and settling in the cracks where they were the hardest to chase away. Caduceus decides to leave her be and instead sets off on his own. He gets the necessary supplies and goes to the inn keep.

"Do you, ah, by any chance have a kitchen I could make use of?" It had to be strange, this large creature like him coming up to ask for the kitchen. The lady, an older human by the name of Myra, sort of shifts like she doesn't quite know how to answer.

"Well, yes of course we have a kitchen. If it's food you'd like I could whip something up for you," she offers and Caduceus shakes his head.

"I'd prefer to do the cooking myself, if it wouldn't trouble you too much. Been a while since I had some decent cookware at my disposal. You have my word I'll clean it up and if you'd like I'd even be happy to make some extra for you to enjoy for the trouble." His easy smile and the thought of not having to cook herself convinces Myra. She lets him have free reign of the kitchen.

Getting them all together is a bit of a challenge and this is where he asks for Jester's help. It's hard to refuse her for too long and soon the members of the Mighty Nein are huddled at a table. "Where Duceus?" Fjord inquires and even if he isn't there to truly appreciate the sentiment it was nice to know someone was thinking about him.

Jester leans in close and talks in a hushed voice, "He said he had something super special for us planned and that he couldn't tell me because it's like totally a big surprise, buuut I'm pretty sure it's going to be super awesome. Or super weird." Some of them make idle small talk, but long conversations have been sparse within the ranks of the Mighty Nein as of late and it lulls.

It's the smell that hits them first. They're no strangers to the scent of good food, staying at the Lavish Chateau had been a world of fine indulgence, every meal more like a feast fit for only the finest. Something about this is different, though. Warm and rich, like coming home to someone that you loved. Sweet and savory. Caduceus is soon to follow the smell, balancing trays of food carefully in his large form, Myra playing the part of assistance to help him. Plate by plate it's all set before the gathered group, who sit in stunned silence and perhaps anticipation as they take it all in.

The meal is an array of things, but not disjointed. Unlike the Lavish Chateau, which provided a bounty of variety and contrast, the dishes put together seem as if they all go together. Caduceus has a knack for knowing what pairs well with what. A rich stew with fresh bread to dip it in, a pot pie with a butter crust that had taken him twice to get right, cooked vegetables of varying sorts and some meats flavored by thick gravy. Balanced out by the sweet smell of cinnamon from the pastries. Nothing about it was extravagant, but something about it makes it all the better. This was no meal from a fancy chateau for important guests, this was a meal for a family, from the heart.

"Caduceus is this what you've been doing all day?" Beau watches as Jester makes the first move, eagerly grabbing for one of the pastries with a grin so bright it could go against the sun. He simply hummed a low, thoughtful sound, and though his smile was more subdued it's warm made a good rival for the sun as well.

"I do apologize if any of it isn't that great, a lot of it I was just playing around." He takes a seat, finally, and motions to the food. "I just thought... you know, my family and I had our fair share of squabbles. It's only natural, I think, when you spend so much time with anyone even those you love you're gonna bump heads sometimes no matter how much you get along. People aren't perfect, we all make mistakes, and when my family would hit a rough spot we'd all come together and have a good meal to, to remind us of what we had. That we're a family, at the end of the day, and that we loved each other." He speaks slow and honest. Talking about his family always makes his heart ache, it's there in his eyes, but his smile hasn't diminished.

"And I think that right now it's what we need. We have a good thing here, everyone. We're a family, and I like to think that we'll be together through the thick and the thin. Now, uh, dig in, before it gets cold."

Things won't always be easy, but at least for tonight the Mighty Nein can set aside their troubles and enjoy a good meal, together. As a family.

[princessamericachavez]

Travel companions

He’s been watching them for quite some time, but never from this close. It’s usually through Jester’s eyes, her sketch book, her tales that he’s known them. Well, not entirely. He got curious too and would some times observe their adventures from the shadows, getting to know Jester’s new friends with his own two eyes. He’d been the first one, after all, and he wanted to make sure they all lived up to his standards. 

The Traveler liked observing them, even in their worst situations, as Jester ran around torn between fighting beasts and keeping her friends alive. He’d gotten to the conclusion that he’d chosen well. Tricksters, after all, aren’t too hard to find. Many in this world enjoy creating chaos, but too many seem to enjoy it most when it harms others. Good hearted mischief, in the other hand, is a much rarer gem, and in his not very humble opinion, Jester embodies it wonderfully. 

Perhaps it’s that good hearted playfulness that made Jester —and himself— like Mollymauk so quickly. He is, after all, a kindred spirit in more ways than one, and The Traveler finds him a great addition to his cleric’s adventures. There’s no cheerfulness in him now, though, as the tiefling kneels next to Jester’s body trying to shake her awake.

“Come on, kid, not like this,” Molly mumbles, pouring a healing potion into her mouth, trying to steady his own shaking hands to do so, but the spilled liquid will make no difference at this point, the Traveler knows.

“Move, move, maybe I- I can stabilize her or- or something,” Beauregard shoves Molly away and takes his place, pulling out her healing kit and searching the cleric’s body for wounds. There aren’t any. This isn’t that kind of issue. “I- I don’t know what to do,” she admits, voice shaking. 

Seeing her from up close for the first time, The Traveler notes her youth. She’s even younger than Jester, which is quite funny considering the tiefling sees her as an older sister, what could have been, what she could have had. He’s not sure if he agrees with that assessment. In his opinion, the monk is irreverent in a strangely boring way, too busy with suspicion and ambition to enjoy her own adventures. Jester approves of her, though, so he is willing to give her a try. 

There’s a shriek as a third person reaches the body, and it fills the musky carven with a shiver cold enough for The Traveler to feel it too. Ah, the other trickster child. He would claim her for himself too if given a chance, if her motives were less instinctual and her actions driven towards fun rather than survival. He’d accept her too, though, because he likes her. Much like Jester does, he sees in her another suitable playmate, and quite enjoys the shenanigans the two girls can get into on their own. It’s a match he’d quietly encouraged, and of which he’s rather proud. As the goblin cries, however, all he feels is a strange kind of sadness, clenching inside his chest. 

“Can you do something?! Please, Caleb! With your magic, you must- please!” Nott asks loudly, standing up to grab at the human’s clothes and tug desperately. 

“I don’t believe I can,” he says, rubbing her hair, his eyes set on Jester but clearly looking at something farther away, lifetimes ago.

Ah, the wizard. This one he likes even less than he does the monk. Too serious, too moody, too sad for his taste, but in him he knows Jester saw a challenge, a person to make happy somehow despite their differences. He’s seen her dance around him for months, with jokes and pranks and more than one argument… and he saw it all eventually pay off. It’s a thing he’ll admit he doesn’t understand, an unusual kind of friendship that at times reminds him of a pair of siblings he once knew. It’s important to Jester and, judging by the way his face has paled and his fists shake, it might be to him too.

“We need to do something!” Mollymauk snaps. 

Good, good. The Traveler has never been too keen on patience either. 

“I can’t,” Caleb insists. “I do not know- I don’t think I even could bring her back… only a cleric could.”

“She is the cleric!” Beauregard snaps, standing back up. Her eyes hold back tears. Yes, she is very young, and full of rage that she throws against the nearest rock. He’s confident he hears her knuckles snap against it. 

“Hey, hey, knock it off! That’s not helping!” Molly grabs her arms. 

“There are temples in town,” Yasha speaks up. “There were temples, I saw them. We can find clerics there.”

Without waiting for an answer, she scoops Jester up in her arms. The Traveler watches her closely, standing by Jester, close enough for his breath to slightly ruffle the white tips of her hair. The celestial one, he notes, Jester likes talking about her, admires her quite a bit. It’s not her strength that catches his attention, though, but the softness with which she looks at the tiefling, her jaw set with determination. He approves of the sentiment, but this won’t do. 

Those temples won’t do, he whispers in Mollymauk’s ear, pushing the idea into his head. The tiefling tenses, and the Traveler is amused to see that he recognizes the intrusive thoughts in his brain. He doesn’t mention it, though, he just says: “Those deities are not right for her. They’re just the ones allowed.”

“So what?” Beau snaps. “We just need them to bring her back, not to worship their gods or something.”

No. He won’t have it. He won’t be able to be with her if she goes there, and she is his.

“It’s her deity that we need to contact,” Fjord intercedes. “We can’t do it there without them noticing.”

The Traveler turns around to look at the half-orc. He’s been quiet, keeping his distance, and even now his face is practically a mask, unreadable. Jester loves Fjord, she has for a while even if she might not truly realize how much, but he? Oh, he doesn’t like him. Fjord is filled with lies, curling like tentacles around his every word, he smells like salt and seaweed, he belongs to another whose darkness dims the warlock’s true intentions. And yet, this is the one Jester has chosen, her first friend after The Traveler, the object of an affection that almost rivals the one she shows him. He is competition. He makes her laugh and encourages her and he looks after her… but that isn’t Fjord’s role to play, that’s his. 

“Shakaste!” Nott jumps. “We should take her to him! He can help!”

“How would we find Shakaste?” Beauregard asks, voice edging in anger. Molly is still holding her arm. 

“I- I might be able to,” Caleb jumps, dropping to his knees. He scatters his books on the floor and begins searching for an incantation. Five minutes later, he puts it together with shaky hands and sends the message. “Please, we need your help. Jester needs your help. We are North of Zadash, in a cave by the mountain. Please hurry.”

“Did it work?!” Beau and Molly ask at the same time. 

Caleb holds a hand up, then perks up.

“It worked! It worked! Oh my god! Yes! He said- He said he’s coming. A few hours. He is coming.”

Hours?!

The cave grows colder with his anger and the six travelers flinch a little. He groans and huffs and plane shifts away until the time has passed. At least they have an incoming solution, and that will do until he is needed again.

It’s hard to tell time when he’s not around mortals, but he feels the call once the ritual starts. He’s midway pulling strings in a fun and intricate political game he’s been playing with —the rich and powerful are incredibly fun to toy with and almost too easy to manipulate— but he drops it all immediately to show up to the ritual. 

Shakaste, he notes, looks exactly the way Jester described him in her drawings. Even in her cartoonish version, she captured the gentleness of his features, the wild hair, and the comforting aura that surrounds him. His white eyes shine, as do his hands placed on Jester’s body. 

“Does anyone have anything to offer to the ritual?” Shakaste asks with a calm voice that quite contrasts against the sudden wave of panic that goes through the remaining Mighty Nein. They look at each other, tensely, until Nott —the brave one— stands forward.

Nott says nothing, just puts down her mask next to Jester, and a handful of flowers. The first circle on the ground lights up and The Traveler feels Jester’s familiar soul for the first time since her death. She is still in the Raven Queen’s realm, but she’s awake, listening. He extends his reach, trying to get to her, to bring her closer to home. 

“Hey,” Mollymauk intercedes next, kneeling by her side. His voice is very soft, but in the darkness where Jester is it resonates and makes her soul feel stronger. 

“So, tiefling to tiefling,” he says as a confidence, and as he speaks he starts moving jewelry from his horns to hers, “this isn’t my first time dealing with this kind of thing, you know? It’s a wonderful story, that I might tell you about later, but for that you have to come back, yes? I mean, we still have so much to do, and honestly it wouldn’t be fun if it’s without you so please, please, come back to us?” 

As he finishes with the jewels, he puts down his deck of cards, next to Nott’s offering, slices his palm with his swords and lets the blood drip on them. As soon as the blood falls, something moves in the air of the cave, some dark energy that The Traveler has recognized on Mollymauk’s fighting and that now manifests itself in his spiritual plane. It circles around Jester’s body, then moves towards the darkness where her soul is and holds on to her, like a chain, pulling her closer to this world.

And next, of course, comes Fjord. The Traveler watches as the man takes the spot Molly had been on kneels next to the cleric. He’s barely spoken, as far as he knows, but when he does his voice is clear.

“Jester? I- No, that’s not right. It’s not you who we should be calling for, is it, darling? It’s The Traveler.”

Finally.

With a laugh he stops everything around them, keeping Fjord, Jester and himself inside a nice little bubble to talk. He appears then, physical and tall before the kneeling half-orc.

“You called?” He asks, tilting his head, as if he hadn’t been waiting for this moment from the instant Jester fell.

“I did,” Fjord says, standing up on his feet. His usual drawl is gone, as is his sheepish air. He stands tall, chin held high and eyes trained on him. 

“So this is your real voice,” The Traveler smirks, narrowing his eyes at him and crossing his arms over his chest. “That explains some things.” Like the veil of lies that usually covers his words and the easiness with which he seems to fade into the background when he wishes to.

“Yes, it is,” Fjord says, shifting his weight a little. For a second, he seems unsure, but The Traveler is not about to help him out of the awkwardness by breaking the silence. He finally clears his throat and says: “I- I don’t know much about the gods, or religion, or magic. I’m still learning.”

“Clearly,” The Traveler snorts.

“Yes, uh, yes. But I do know you,” Fjord goes on, slowly, not breaking eye contact. “I do, because you are the most important thing to Jester, and she is- I’m hoping she is as important to you… as she is to me.”

“You lie to her,” The Traveler says, hiding his accusation behind amusement.

“No, it’s not that. I- She knows me, maybe not my history, but the part of me she knows, it’s real. It might be the only thing that’s real anymore. And she is real, and fun, and kind, and too good to die like this after all the shit she’s been through. She deserves more. I just want to bring her back, I’ll do anything. Please.”

The Traveler considers him carefully. It might be the false voice being gone, or it might simply be his words, but something about the warlock sounds honest. He thinks he spots, for the first time behind all the shadows, the light that Jester keeps talking about, earnest and heart behind the many faces.

“Jester says you are her best friend in the world,” Fjord goes on. “I want to believe that you want to help her too.”

And there’s a look in the half-orc’s eyes that suggests that the distrust is mutual, but there’s frankness in it too, a strange offering that rings of desperation to The Traveler’s ears. And that kind of desperation is exactly the kind a god, or some other kind of creature, might latch on to. It's dangerous.

“I do,” he finally replies, taking a step forward and offering Fjord a hand. The boy shakes it firmly, shoulders easing with relief.

With the contact, The Traveler hears waves, smells salty water, and takes notice of the shadows that still linger behind Fjord like tentacles, he feels observed and he doesn’t like it. 

“Word of advice,” he whispers as his physical form vanishes, “next time be more mindful of who you make deals with.”

“Wha-”

Before Fjord can get another word in, he lets go and the world recovers its pace. The rest of the party find Fjord standing there, with his hand out stretched and staring confused at the emptiness in front of him. The Traveler finds it rather funny. As they try to ask what happened and the half-orc mumbles lies and excuses, they are interrupted by a loud intake of air. 

The ritual continues and Jester finally comes back from the shadows. In the crossroads, The Traveler kisses her forehead and sends her a wave of reassurance, so that her awakening may not be too violent and her own death won’t put fear inside her bright heart.

Give them hell, he whispers with a smile. You chose them well.