#Wooden-Cooling-Tower-Manufacturer

[emmaameliamiaava]

Wooden Cooling Tower Manufacturer and Exporter India - Cooltech Engineers

Wooden cooling tower manufacturers in India. 4900+ cooling towers successfully built in 47 years. For more information, visit Cooltech's website!

[ritumistry11]

Best Wooden Cooling Tower Manufacturer in India - Cooltech

Wooden cooling tower manufacturers in India. 4900+ cooling towers successfully built in 47 years. For more information, visit Cooltech's website!

[midseo]

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[supercoolerectors]

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[lil-tachyon]

I’m loving your solarpunk drawings and the world you’ve been building around it - even though most of the captions imply a decline in civilizational cohesion from our present condition, it’s reassuring to think ‘well, we’ll muddle through it somehow, we always do, and maybe the world that will follow might even be less shitty than our present one’.

That being the case, I want to pick your brain about more traditional sci-fi societal elements, especially in light of your saying that you don’t think mega-towers or arcologies or whatever you want to call em’ would take off (and I think you’re right):

1. Is armed conflict still a thing? On a national or tribal scale? And in a world with new constraints on resource scarcity, how effective is it at achieving organizational goals? On that note, if the old national-capitalist hierarchies are dinosaur-levels of irrelevant, what’s taken their place? Thinking about the militarization of national parks, the establishment of powerful firefighters’ unions - I guess I want detail on more stuff like that.

2. Does the internet still exist in any meaningful sense? I can see cellular towers going down with the grid, but do satellites still spin ‘round the earth for people to bounce comms off of? Perhaps one of its great features is exchanging material solutions, blueprints for 3D printers or something like that - or are 3D printers economically nonviable in the kind of solarpunk you’re imagining here? (I keep thinking about Cory Doctorow’s Walkaway on one hand, and Raymond Kurzweil’s concept for Atomically Precise Manufacturing and the Radical Abundance he says such technology would bring about on the other.)

3. How stark is the difference between urban and rural areas? Are there even relevant urban areas anymore? (I think there would be, relying on vertical or suburban agriculture to keep themselves independent of the country folk the city folk so fear and despise. But it’s your universe.)

Just thoughts. Really looking forward to seeing more of this rough-and-tumble solarpunk ‘verse in the future!

So glad to hear you’re liking it! I’m having a lot of fun drawing and writing this stuff and it’s really cool to hear people’s reactions to it. I’ll try to answer your questions the best I can.

1. I would imagine large-scale armed conflict with up-to-date weapons can only be conducted by global superpowers that can afford to requisition the oil and electronic components to manufacture modern weapons of war. In this scenario, that would probably be the US with access to most of the world’s oil and China with access to most of the world’s rare earths. They would probably engage in proxy wars over resources. Smaller powers would vie for support from American or Chinese “military advisors” in local or regional conflicts. Combatant states try to avoid total war so as not to completely deplete reserves of military resources, resulting in small conflicts that are feints-within-feints-within-feints of large economic conflicts.

I think empires will always be around, although how well they maintain control over their constituent components will vary. Tian gao, Huangdi yuan. With decaying infrastructures, both physical and electronic, large nation-empires will probably become less cohesive as communities further from the centers of power become harder to reach. The US will go back to being “These United States” rather than “The United States.” But the empires will try to hold on to power regardless. Smaller nations would probably see more overt changes. Resource scarcity and general global instability would likely cause revolutions all over the place (with each one being clandestinely contested by global superpowers). You’d see the emergence of new regimes that could be described as socialist, ethno-nationalist, monarchist, theocratic, democratic, communist, etc. The breakdown of global social order would be fertile breeding ground for new governments, for better or for worse. (I’ve been mostly focusing on tech stuff for the Inktober series as I’m really not very knowledgeable about geopolitics, but I can try to do more of this kind of cultural stuff if it’s what people find interesting. I like it too!)

2. The internet still exists, but for many people it is a public utility rather than a private luxury. Computers and phones are expensive and hard to repair, power outages are recurrent, and the infrastructure supporting the internet is expensive and difficult to maintain. Localized peer-to-peer file sharing networks are common and these networks connect to the broader internet when that connection is available. You’re right, many people in this scenario use the internet to find material solutions to difficult problems, I mentioned that a little in this post. So the internet is still around, it’s use just isn’t as ubiquitous as it is in our day and it’s typically reserved for important information exchanges rather than just web-surfing. 3D printers would actually probably be pretty viable. The difficult part would be obtaining components allowing for precision axial movement but stepper motors probably would still be pretty common and I’m sure you could make power screws with 19th century tech. And I don’t think the computing requirements are super demanding but I’m really not an expert.

As for radical abundance, nanotech, etc. I’m basically writing this whole setting assuming that their aren’t any “miracle technologies” that are going to save us but I can’t really rule that kind of stuff out. Maybe nanotech will become cheap and usable, maybe fusion power will as well. Who’s to say? (My gut feeling is that nanotech, when it comes, will result in some kind of epidemic of toxic nanoscopic trash and that fusion power is a long long way from viability yet, but those are literally just my feelings, they’re not based on any facts.)

3. I’m going to let you in on my dirty little secret: cities are very hard to draw which is why I haven’t drawn many urban scenarios for this project. That said, yeah, urban areas would definitely still be important. I think the key here is that the important urban centers of the future will be the ones that can protect themselves from wildfires, sea-level rise, and food shortages. So cities would probably be rife with greenery, have draconian fire-safety laws and would be equipped with flood mitigation infrastructure to rival or exceed the shutoken gaikaku hōsuiro. They would have more reliable access to 24/7 power and most of the rich would probably live in cities. I don’t see suburbs in the modern sense making it into the future. It costs too much to upkeep. They’d have to become much more self-sufficient to keep from falling apart in the face of food and resource scarcity. Rural areas would likely become self-sufficient communities unto themselves, repairing what they have, doing their best to keep the lights on with wooden wind turbines, providing communal light and heat from heliostat arrays etc. The only thing coming in to rural communities would be data from the internet, and the only thing going out would be food to the hungry cities. 

I hope this answers your questions! Feel free to ask more or suggest ideas. I’m not an expert on any of this stuff, I’m just trying to learn more about ways we might meet the challenges of the future.

Peace

[btsinwonderland]

Fire & Ashes - Ch 2

A Cable Story!

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

[Length - 4-5 chapters - on going]

[General advisories - violence, swearing, sexual content. Rated - Explicit]

[Chapter advisories - violence, fighting, and blood]

My notes at the end of the chapter.

-----------------------------------------

We arrived in the outskirts of Anaheim, where the dirt of the city met the barren dust of the desert. The morning sun was high in the sky and the temperature was beyond boiling. The air tasted of metal from the various manufacturing facilities around us and the thick stench of burning coal.

Colossus and Negasonic brought the cars over to the small warehouse where we hid the jet and ushered us to meet them for a review.

“Do we understand plan? We must keep the adamantium safe, away from the bad men. Easy squeeze,” said Colossus in his heavy Russian accent.

“Holy God Colossus, how many times do I have to tell you, it’s easy peasy lemon squeezy, we’re never going to get ready for Hairspray at this rate,” said Wade. He sat atop the hood of one of the jeeps with his legs swinging off the side humming ‘Good Morning Baltimore’.

“Do we know how many of them will come?” I asked. I heard a clank of metal and turned to see Cable enter the open area, his dark cape was rippling behind him as he walked. His eyes met everyone’s but mine.

Colossus replied, “Professor only say where, not how many. We will defend as much as we can, and if it goes bad, then we assume code red.”

“What’s a code red?” I said.

“It’s what happens when the strap on is too big, or is that a code brown? I always mix them up.” Wade looked up, the brows of his mask knitted in thought.

“Code red is this,” said Colossus as he put down a disc shaped object on the table in front of him. It was just larger than a frisbee. “This is bomb that is made with mutant acid and shrapnel, it will cause many damages and corrode the adamantium. We do not want to use this.” He put the disk into a bag where there were about a dozen more of the acid bombs and clasped it shut. “Now, we will divide into three teams, one for above, and two for the ground. Negasonic, Yukio, and I will be on the ground, Wade and Domino you take the roof, Cable and Nina you take the other side of the building on the ground.”

[ Interesting team up...almost too convenient wouldn’t ya say?

Nah I’m just kidding, hope you guys fuck! Cheers!

-DP ]

I heard Cable give a grunting sigh as he dismantled a part of his gun and reassembled it. The clang of the metal once it magnetically locked on his back echoed through the warehouse.

We took the jeeps to the metalworks factory and parked them beside a vestigial building, what once might have been a shed or garage. The factory looked old and decrepit, pillars of white and grey smoke rose from the cooling towers and the air was thick with burning metal.

Cable and I walked to the east side of the factory, we had several large concrete blocks for cover as we made our approach.

“Don’t do anything stupid, remember I can’t take care of you and fight,” Cable said under his breath. It came out raspy and disapproving.

“I don’t need you to take care of me,” I said.

He turned to look at me for a moment and his gaze bore into me, the intensity was astounding and I was unprepared.

We heard the ground shake suddenly as a giant explosion went off on the south side of the building. Chunks of concrete fell from the sky and before I could create a wooden shield, Cable grabbed me by the waist and pulled me close to him as he enabled his forcefield above us. I felt his breath on the back of my neck, not quite panting not quite even, and his thick arm around me. Before I could turn my head he rose up and ran toward the explosion. I followed closely behind him.

There were four of them, they had black suits on with silver neck braces. Colossus was fighting a large one that produced spires from his body while Negasonic and Yukio were fighting two with elemental powers, fire and air. They generated a flaming tornado together. The fourth one saw Cable and I approaching, he raised his hands in a gun shape and clicked, the air around us exploded as Cable shielded me once again as I fell against him. His hard body blocking my impact with the ground. He glared at me and pushed me aside, running towards the explosive man.

I heard loud noises coming from the roof but had no time to check what was going on up there when Cable was knocked over by another surprise explosion. I summoned my power and shot several sharp branches at the man, he dodged them all save for one that knicked him across the face. He looked at me with scornful hatred in his eyes and snapped his fingers, I was prepared this time and generated a wooden shield just as his explosion shattered it around me. Cable yelled out my name and shot at the man as I was knocked over from the force.

The man fell over, dead I presumed. I then saw a number of bodies falling from the roof, some heads and limbs came through separately and I assumed that Wade and Domino were doing alright.

It was then a van screeched to a stop in front of us and a group of armed men emerged, pointing their guns and shooting. Cable fired one of his special guns which he dialed up and shot at the van. It exploded and pieces of metal and tire shot out in all directions. I put up my shields and blocked a serrated edge of the van from impaling Cable. He looked at me briefly with his eyebrows partially raised.

We then took to those left. They wore no masks and I actually recognized a few of them as the guys that herded me and the girls into our cages. My blood boiled at the sight of them so I summoned all my powers and threw wooden stakes which emerged from my arms at great speed. I screamed as I ran for the blonde blue haired man. He had a coldness to his eyes that I remembered. He was the one that was overly touchy. The one that liked to beat his so-called favourite girls.

He saw me coming with no recognition, I was just another mutant. Just another mutant who drove a ten inch long stake up his jaw. The bloodied tip popped out from his head and his eyes sagged.

I panted as the noise around me settled. There was an unrest within me that wanted to keep stabbing. To mangle his body and tear him to shreds for all the girls I would no longer be able to talk to, for our pain and for our suffering.

A hand gripped my shoulder and I screamed, pouncing onto the body and growling like a feral animal. I had Cable pinned between my legs and a pointed wooden stake at his jaw. He looked at me with an intensity I had grown to be familiar with, but which never ceased to unsettle me.

“You gonna kill me?” He said, his voice husky.

I put a hand on his chest and lingered for just a second longer than I should have. Then I jumped up and muttered an apology. “Don’t sneak up on me in a fight.”

“Duly noted.”

NTW and Yukio took care of the elemental mutants who were now laying either dead or unconscious on the ground. There was blood splatter here and there which was mostly due to the two on the roof, a head landed just beside Cable and blood sprayed on his pants. He looked up at the roof and said in a low voice, “I’m gonna kill that oversized dildo.”

The one that shot spires ran to an abandoned Jeep and threw out his dead colleague. He put the car into drive and escaped. Colossus ran after him but stopped once the car was too far away.

“That man will come back. We must take the adamantium and leave now,” Colossus said, he had a finger to his earpiece. Then he grimaced and said, “no Wade we are not going to Disneyland. They do not have condoms in the bathrooms. No. Wade!”

There was a shot fired, which pinged off of Colossus and made Cable grunt. He got down on a knee, and managed to whip out his gun and shoot the one attacker who had gained consciousness. The man slumped over. I ran to Cable and asked him if he was okay. He kept trying to shrug me off but clearly needed help standing.

“Will you stop being such a dick and let me help you!”

Cable stopped moving and allowed me to help him up. He tried his best to keep his weight off of me but I guided him back to our vehicles. Colossus went into the building to retrieve the adamantium while NTW and Yukio got in the drivers side of the van. I opened the back doors and helped Cable into the van, he tried not to make a sound but I heard the tiniest grunt escape his lips as he put pressure on the leg he was shot in. The wound must have been in his thigh. I sat down beside him and looked for a towel, anything.

There was a small first aid kit beside Cable, who had his eyes closed and head tilted back. I leaned over him to grab the kit, my breasts brushed against his stomach and I thought I heard him groan.

“What are you doing?” He said. When I sat back I saw that his eyes were on me with a strained expression.

I flashed the first aid kit and took out some towels to stop the bleeding.

“The bullet’s still in there,” he said.

“We’re gonna have to take care of that back at the house,” I told him as I gently compressed the wound.

“Not we, I’ll take care of it,” he said, glaring at me.

“No way, you can barely reach it, it’s the back of your thigh. Unless you enjoy scratching around for a bullet wound while staring at a mirror, you’re gonna let me do this.”

The back of the van depressed a little and the rest of the crew came in.

“I’d listen to her Cable, it’s only fair she finger you first,” Wade sat across from us in the back with Domino who winked at me.

Cable grimaced at Wade while I concealed a small laugh.

Colossus brought a heavy metal crate and got into the back. “This is not over, they will want this.”

---------------------------------

My personal note:

First of all. Yes. This is an update after three fucking years. I AM SO SORRY. Life got in the way and much more complicated.

I made this Tumblr so long ago. I love fan fictions and not finishing this one haunted me all these years. I left so many people unsatisfied and who knows if they'll all see this again. But I'm trying to make up for my sins by completing this fanfic. I'll be posting chapter updates this week and don't worry the next chapter is already written, I'm just going to post it tomorrow.

To anyone who came back from that first chapter I wrote three fucking years ago. Wow. You are amazing. And I ask you for forgiveness. I hope that I this will make up for ghosting.

Love ya xoxo.

[love-sapphirerose]

Yashahime: Princess Half-Demon Episode 19

https://www.animenewsnetwork.com/review/yashahime-princess-half-demon/episode-19/.169235

Similar to the last time Yashahime gave Moroha something substantial to do, the insidious stupidity of “Princess Aya's Beniyasha Hunting” can only be truly appreciated if I just describe the events of the story in chronological order. Given the crummy vives that the preview gave off, I don't think anyone was expecting much more than a cheap detour from this episode, but I'll be damned of this series doesn't continue to impress with how little of a shit it gives about being good, or even mediocre, or hell, even functional. And before we dig into this post-mortem, I'd like to field any defenses that people might make about Yashahime being meant more for kids, and thus shouldn't be taken seriously. For one, this is a decades-in-the-making sequel to one of the most popular anime ever, so don't act like the show shouldn't have something to offer for fans whose ages can be counted with more than one digit. Also, y'all know that crappy kids' entertainment still sucks, right? It doesn't just get a free pass for being made with younger viewers in mind. Nobody in their right mind is going to argue that stuff like Avatar the Last Airbender or Steven Universe should be judged at the same level as Caillou, for Pete's sake.

Anyway, “Princess Aiya's Beniyasha Hunting” commits the gravest sin that any work of art can commit, in that it is a completely pointless waste of time that takes the precious minutes of existence that its viewers have been afforded on this earth and just flushes them straight down the toilet. I, dear reader, respect your lives much more than Yashahime ever will, so I'm going to dispense with the “twists” and lay it all out in order: Way back in Episode 1/7, when the girls busted into Hiiragi Dango's place to rescue Towa, they brushed by his daughter, Aya, and got a speck of mud on her kimono. Being a literal psychopath, young Aya then hatched an elaborate scheme to trick the girls and get her revenge: She recruited a band of mercenaries and forced Jyubei to sell Moroha's services as well, and then she established the false pretext of recruiting demon slayers to her father's employment to lure Hisui and his two nameless buddies into fighting the mercs in a big, competitive battle.

These mercenaries are cartoonish morons, and one of them, Lady, is a pretty offensive homophobic/transphobic/maybe-even-racist stereotype, but in one of this episode's few saving graces, it's actually hard to get all that mad about it, because these goofs are pointless and don't really do anything. They spend all night building a wooden façade of a castle on the battlefield for…some reason, and then they all sort of disappear once the firebombs start dropping. No, the demon slayers know that Moroha is the only one that really needs to be taken seriously as a threat, so they recruit Setsuna to aid them, leading to a cousin-vs-cousin showdown for the ages!

Except that obviously isn't what happens, because even though Setsuna and Hisui suck, they're not awful enough to be completely on board with burning InuYasha's kid alive in the middle of a field for the sake of some half-cocked job interview. No, we eventually learn that Moroha and the slayers were in cahoots all along, since they figured they could throw the fight and earn enough cash from the not-actually-real job offer for everyone to profit. Sure, the slayers apparently didn't even tell Moroha about the very real volley of firebombs they'd be tossing her way, but who's keeping track of neglectful homicide attempts amongst friends and family, eh?

It's that throughline of “not telling your teammates the most basic and necessary information” that really sinks this episode, which was already a bummer to begin with. Nevermind Hisui and Setsuna almost turning Moroha into barbecue; the big dramatic turn of the story occurs when Setsuna and Moroha both agree to not tell Towa about the fixed battle because…she's a bad liar, I guess? Except Moroha is the one that lets slip about the battle in the first place, and I don't know why anyone would assume that keeping Towa in the dark would be easier than just explaining that the fight is rigged, nobody is getting hurt, and so on. Even if you bought that silly excuse, the episode still doesn't make any goddamned sense, because once Towa predictably gets mixed up in the fight anyways and mistakes Setsuna's “acting” for real aggression, nobody bothers to just explain what's going on then, either! The episode establishes that Aya can't hear anything they say from her little tower, so why keep up the charade? And how is any of this easier than one of the girls just telling Towa, “Hey, we're going to scam the spoiled daughter of that guy who kidnapped you out of some money by faking a battle. If you want in, cool, but if you can't keep up the ruse, just, like, hang out here this afternoon or something. We'll be back in a few hours, tops.”

It's just so unbelievably lame, and it's the kind of plot that is doubly frustrating because it depends entirely on characters withholding important information for no reason other than to cheaply manufacture some consequence-free drama. Also, remember how the whole setup for the battle was a lie, anyways? Yeah, Kohaku shows up out of nowhere to explain to Aya that he knew the whole thing was a waste of time, except he didn't tell his own crew of demon slayers this because…he wanted them to learn a lesson?

To recap: Aya, a character we've never met, goes to insane lengths to deceive Hisui, a cardboard cutout that we do not care about, in order to double deceive (and possibly kill) Moroha, all on account of that one time she got some dirt on Aya's clothes. Then, Moroha, Setsuna, and Hisui attempt to trick Aya, which ends up being a waste of time since they already fell for Aya's initial trick, and there's a bunch of needless drama with Towa because everyone made a conscious decision to also trick her, even though she probably would have been able to allow the secretly useless and entirely overcomplicated ruse-within-a-ruse to go off without a hitch, if only she had she known what was happening in the first place. Takechiyo even gets in on the action by tricking Towa into thinking Moroha got horribly murdered in her arms. Why? Who the hell knows! Maybe it's because Takechiyo just gets off on psychologically abusing teenaged girls. I'd buy it. Just look at the little creep.

Throw in some harmful stereotypes and a hilariously clunky last-minute scene where Towa gets all tearful over Moroha's safety – despite definitely not giving a crap all those times that Moroha was in actual danger – and there you have it: “Princess Aya's Beniyasha Hunting.” No, Moroha does not transform into Beniyasha. Yes, I'm just as mad about all of this as you are. The only reason this episode is getting a two-star rating is because there's a funny bit where Moroha plays along with the bounty hunters' silly entrance-theme bit. I'm giving it one extra start for making me laugh exactly once. That might be damning Yashahime with faint praise, but with nineteen episodes down and only a handful to go, I'm afraid that faint praise is just about the only good thing Yashahime can hope to earn at this point.

[worldcoolingtowers]

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[emmaameliamiaava]

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[ritumistry11]

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[midseo]

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[abbacchiosbelt]

Silly roller coaster HCs!

Hey y’all! It’s the wife, Sophie, coming in with some silly headcanons of my own – roller coasters! My wife and I are active coaster enthusiasts and while we haven’t been able to visit as many cool parks as we’d like, we both love them. I thought I would speculate what coaster type each member of Team Bucciarati would like the most. Lastly, while I know the story of Vento Aureo takes place in 2001, but we’re going to pretend nothing bad happens and that they’re all still around to ride coasters that have been built since. :)

Bruno – The leader of the gang loves a straight-forward steel hyper coaster, and everyone else enjoys them as well so it’s easy for the gang to get all onto the same coaster together. His personal favorite is Nitro at Six Flags Great Adventure, made by Swiss manufacturer B&M. While he is willing to ride anything, inversions often make him sick after, a trait he shares with Abbacchio. They can be often found together sipping drinks after an intense ride as the younger members immediately hop in the queue for another ride.

Giorno – Giorno, being younger and of course naturally cooler than the others, prefers the ultra-modern coasters of Rocky Mountain Construction’s doing. RMC coasters tend to be wooden coasters that have been converted to “hybrid” coasters with steel support structure and track, turning older rough rides that very few people enjoyed to some of the most premier rides in the industry. His favorite ride is Iron Rattler at Six Flags Fiesta Texas, and he constantly bugs Abbacchio to go to Dollywood with him to ride Lightning Rod. Abbacchio frequently declines.

Leone – Abbacchio’s stoic and serious nature give way to his pure enjoyment of a traditional wooden roller coaster. Abbacchio tends to be no-nonsense, and many wooden roller coasters are the same. Many lack tricky elements and inversions, but he will still enjoy the rare ones that do, such as Outlaw Run at Silver Dollar City Amusement Park. His favorite coaster is The Beast at Kings Island, which he loves equally for the exciting ride as well as beautiful scenery.

Mista – Fast as his bullets, Mista loves launched roller coasters – coasters that have a powered launch to propel their trains to a high speed, sometimes even replacing the traditional chain lift hill. Unfortunately, he has to take off his headgear to ride his favorite coasters, as the speed would easily remove it, and no park wants a lawsuit of his bullets hitting other guests! His favorite coaster is Superman: Escape from Krypton at Six Flags Magic Mountain, and his bucket list coaster is Do-Dodonpa at Fuji-Q Highland.

Narancia – Narancia, true to his stand Aerosmith, loves fast-paced roller coasters with a ton of inversions, and prefers coasters designed by Gerstlauer, especially their infinity coaster model, which are known for having upwards of 10 inversions, steep drop angles, and some of the most intense rides available. His favorite is the coaster with the most inversions in the world – The Smiler at Alton Towers. One day, he hopes that he and Mista can take a trip to Fuji-Q Highland so he can ride Takabisha there, the coaster with the steepest drop in the world at 121° .

Fugo – Fugo, true to his young and aggressive nature, loves coasters made by Swiss manufacturer Intamin, especially their steel blitz coasters – compact, intense rides with launches, inversions, and steeply banked curves. Him and Narancia can marathon these extreme rides for hours, enjoying every second of them. His favorite coaster is Maverick at Cedar Point.

[machi-kun]

"Iron Man 1 gets quoted so much but are you really telling me that a self-proclaimed genius needed to be directly hurt by his weapons to know that innocent people were hurting over them too? There’s no way to make weapons and be good, there’s no way to make weapons like Jericho and believe that no innocents are being hurt by them. We constantly hear about how he stopped making weapons after Iron Man 1, but he didn’t. (1/6)

He just made weapons for different people. He made Insight for S.H.I.E.L.D., made Ultron for himself, and that’s not to mention the ridiculous amounts of weapons we’re shown in the tower scene in Homecoming, that if he made that weapon for S.H.I.E.L.D. he’s likely to have made others. Tony also pushes the Accords, which are in violation of several human rights, on the Avengers simply because someone walked up to him and said “my son is dead and I blame you”. (2/6)

Imagine having to be told to your face that an American died as a consequence of your ridiculous murder bot so that you care enough to do something about it. Because he knew people had died in Sokovia but did nothing about it until a photo was shoved in his face. There’s no excuse for Tony teaming up with Ross. A man who drove Bruce Banner to attempt suicide. There’s no excuse for Tony restricting Wanda to the compound and calling her “a weapon of mass destruction”. (3/6)

There’s no excuse for him shooting Sam in the chest after Rhodey falls. There’s no excuse for him bribing blackmailing and kidnapping Peter. There’s no excuse for the vicious way in which he attacks Bucky. He never apologizes for Ultron, he says “and then Ultron, my fault” in Civil War and then in Endgame he brings it up and claims he was right, even though Ultron was a disastrous occurrence. (4/6)

He blames Stee for breaking up the Avengers when Tony himself brought the Accords upon them and then pushed Steve away when he chose to help Bucky, Sam, Wanda, Clint, Scott instead of giving up the glory of being a hero. Tony probably only asked Steve to choose between the shield (being Cap) and Bucky (keeping his family, and I mean all of them not just Bucky, safe) because in Iron Man 3 he gets rid the Arc Reactor, symbolically giving up Iron Man for Pepper and then he doesn’t stick to it (5/6)

And he thought Steve would choose the same way. His monologue in the beginning of Endgame was pretty much just Hydra rhetoric, he says “what we needed was a suit of armour around the world whether it impacted your precious freedoms or not”. Our “precious freedoms” are a human right, Tony Stark has no claim to them. Not to mention that a suit of armour around the world would have done jack shit to stop Thanos or the snap.“ Machi, I do not know if I cry or laugh. (6/6)

OH MY GOD. OOOOH MY GOD. OOOOOOHHHH. MYYY. GODDDDDD.

I don’t… Honestly, thank you for sending me this in ask format because I don’t know what I would have done had I seen this on my dash out of nowhere. I honestly can’t imagine what my reaction would’ve been. I’VE REMOVED ANTIS SO EFFICIENTLY NOTHING BUT THE PUREST LOVE FOR TONY STARK CROSSES MY DASH, THANK YOU VERY MUCH. 

I tend not to interact with antis in any capacity because people who hate a character usually don’t hear to what other people have to say about that character, even if it’s in a calm, polite, and perfectly reasonable manner. My only interactions with antis have been on occasions where they come to me, not the other way around, and that’s why this kind of stuff doesn’t even bother me anymore.

Because I don’t get it. I truly, honestly don’t get their logic. I guess laughing is my pick, because I don’t waste no tears on something like this akdhkajshfkjashfh

Let’s go over this, shall we? For some lighthearted fun. 

The weapons manufacturer argument always sounded weird to me - it sounds like a very standard anti-military speech; Which I could get, if that criticism were ever extended to the other military characters, such as Rhodey, the entirety of SHIELD, and Steve himself. Because… you know… the soldier in super soldier is not just a cool nickname. Steve is also part of this war based system and people seem to be very forgetful of that fact. If you want to be angry about Tony enforcing war indirectly, don’t forget to spare some of that anger of yours for the other characters too! Make sure everyone gets their share! Oh, but Steve only wanted to protect the little guy, you say? Did you fall asleep when Tony says “I saw young Americans killed by the same weapons I build to protect them”? Is the use of the word Americans that bothers them? Enough to ignore everything else this sentence is composed of, including meaning? Also, personal morality aside - Tony is not, in any way, a war criminal or profiteer, as many antis like to put it. He is a legalized, certified weapons manufacturer, and all unlawful use of his weapons seen on screen is caused by Obadiah’s double-dealing. Ever since IM1.

And I can’t wrap my head around getting angry about a character that makes weapons in a universe where aliens are constantly knocking at your door asking if they can blow up your planet! What are you going to fight them with? Please, someone, give me an answer, because I can’t come up with any ideas.

Ultron. Aaaah, I love talking about that garbage of a movie. I also don’t understand why people pin Ultron on Tony as if Tony has intentionally made Ultron evil, when the thing inside the Mind Stone is what makes Ultron sentient, and when Tony builds Ultron with the help of Bruce with the intentions of, and I quote, “not letting the next alien get past the bouncer”. It’s the same speech, “weapons are bad! He made a weapon, so he is bad!”. But again, if weapons are not the things we’re gonna use against aliens, against Thanos, what will we use?! The Infinity Stones? Ultron was made of Infinity Stones! Where is the logic in that! I know, we’ll clock Thanos in the head with a frying pan, that’ll solve the problem akjdaslkfalskf No more weapons, everybody. We’ll just close the doors and windows and pretend we’re not home. Let’s get into a fistfight against Thanos, the huge ass purple alien, when that alien beat the shit out of the Hulk once with no problem! I’m sure that will work out just fine!

But by far, my favorite thing about antis arguments is the use of the Accords as a justification for demonizing Tony, when there is no evidence the Accords are a bad thing! No, for real! Not one! It’s all speculative! I’m sure a lot of people immediately draft comparisons between the Accords and SHRA, but the truth is, they couldn’t be more different! It’s not even that hard to realize this, so long as you’re paying attention to the canon cues. If the Accords where SHRA, Clint would’ve received a copy. So would have Scott, Hank Pym, every single enhanced person in the Agent of SHIELD series, every single superhuman. But they don’t! Only active-duty, currently present Avengers. So it’s not a register of every single individual, only of those who are currently working under Avenger’s jurisdiction. Second, it’s hysterical to me that someone would be angry that Tony is supposedly prioritizing American lives, but is okay with unauthorized American military intervention. Because that’s what the Avengers are! They are a government-endorsed and based paramilitary group, a special unit. It makes sense that they, a specialized team, are sent to deal with alien threats, because no country has a say in the legality of who gets to take the alien to court. So that’s not a problem. But when you go to a country to chase a specific person, a totally human person, without permission and you bring your special ops team with you, destroy some buildings, and then act like you didn’t do anything wrong - that is something people tend not to like, ya know. 

It gets to a point that the hate becomes a total lack of empathy. “It’s not fair that people are acting like Wanda is a threat. It was an accident!”. Had a person I love been in that building, would it matter to me if it was an accident or not? “Clint was fighting for his right to freedom, even if he didn’t read the Accords! He has the right to freedom!”. He sure does. How was his freedom endangered, exactly? By this document he never was prompted to sign? “The Accords are a violation of your right to freedom!”. Are they? Is a person forbidding you from entering their home if they fear you might destroy it, is that an infringement of your right to freedom? Do you have the freedom to go anywhere you please and do whatever you think it’s right, even if it destroys someone else’s property, or wound or kill someone, so long as you did what you had to do? “He has no right to lash out against the people who have murdered his parents or almost killed his best friend! They didn’t mean to!”. Oh, doesn’t he? Is he not allowed this distressed emotional response? Alright then. Where was that rage when Wanda, Toomes, and so many others blamed Tony for the weapons Obadiah sold without Tony’s consent?

I don’t have time for this double-standard. I’m gonna be here sipping on my loving Tony Stark juice and having fun with my complex and well-written faves, while antis marinate in their hate for 25 minutes on low heat. Wake me up when it’s time to kill Thanos with a wooden spoon or with a petition for him to leave. One of the two lksahfakshfskajfhkjsf

[polyvirnl]

In Memoriam

Petals In Ambivalence prologue

Inspired by Link Start - Lies Stopped! by DawnWave on ao3

So I found a couple DawnWave Sword Art meets Miraculous books and decided I needed more, so heres a short one while I write the actual story.

This Au is the Black Lotus AU ((and while I realize that makes it sound like Marinette is in a Red Player guild, or taking Kiritio's place in SAO, its not, its literally just bc her handle is Lotus ingame, and i wanted a some cool alias's for it.))

Also,,, its gonna be maribat of some sort probably

The somber grey sky cried as Marinette stumbled to school, something that was fitting on that day. Adorned with black button up and slacks, grey shoes and ribbons, and a single freying bracelet on her wrist, Marinette concentrated on her breathing, feeling the cold sink into her bones while her umbrella lay unused in her hand.

She sighed as she tucked it away in her bag, the school growing closer with it’s perilous stone staircases and manipulative foxes lying in wait.

Since Lila had joined the school again a month ago, she had been steadily gaining support in the school, swaying everyone with a wag of her tongue, despite the outrageous lies she boasted. Normally, Marinette was nearly late and Lila was in the classroom before her arrival-that is to say, everyone was present before her arrival.

But not today.

Today she framed her bruised eyes like battle scars, the more readily pronounced bags a testament to how she slept that night; not a wink.

She knew she wouldn't have slept well, knew the likelihood of waking up with an aching throat and haggard voice- so she simply worked and worked, schoolwork, designs, scrolling through monotonous posts online, anything to keep her mind and memories quiet, if not silent.

Marinette fiddled with her bracelet as she walked up the stairs and through the hallway, not surprised when the door she opened displayed a distinct lack of person in the room, something unheard of since she had caught up with school and rejoined.

Her things were placed in an orderly manner on her desk in the back, her notes from last night queued on her tablet, waiting for power to be turned on to be used. Her arms were crossed on the wooden surface, head turned to stare out the window with glassy, unseeing orbs.

She didn't know how early she was, or how long she waited there, alone, before her classmates started piling in, first the early birds, like Sabrina and Max, then the giggling pairs like Rose and Juleka. No one mentioned Marinette’s lackluster presence, and she had a distant thought about if they thought she was someone else, or if they didn't care anymore. Not that she was like this today for attention. She was like this in attention, in a walking memorial of those who were lost for years, a survivor who had been lost but had finally come home three years ago.

Lila and a small portion of her posse came in. Marinette didn't stirr, not moving her eyes from the dusty window pane with the sky's tears trickling down and pelting it as if to break through and steal her away, to leave a changeling in her place with none the wiser but herself.

In the reflection of the glass, she noticed faintly as Kim walked up to his desk, that Max beside him wore the same ensemble as her, black as the night except for his dark grey glasses.

Lila’s shrill voice was breaking her shield of inattention, forcing her to listen even as she subtly pressed her hands over sensitive ears until they burned. That is, until she heard a familiar name, and a pool of dread dripped over her heart with an unflinching fist.

“Of course- that was before he and Alice got together, I was the one who got them together by the way!”

Maybe I misheard, maybe she can be a decent person for once-

Adrien stumbled in, funeral clothes like two others, grey faced and tired. He greeted them all with a small, scratchy voice.

“ The game was honestly a blast, I don't know why so many people died ! It was soo easy, but maybe I'm just that good?”

Adrien stopped where he was placing his things, face growing more pale by the second, turning slowly to stare at her.

Lila flashed a devious smirk at the ground at his attention.

“What the hell are you talking about.” He almost whispered, and the class froze. Marinette raised her head and made to stand.

“Sword Art Online of course! I was telling them all about my adventures with Kirito and Alice and the other front liners, I was stuck in that death game for years you know. I'm pretty sure its been coming back up in the media recently too~”

Marinette’s fists trembled, and Adrien eyes went glassy as he lurched out of the room.

“Lila Rossi.”

Everyone whipped around to see Marinette standing with feirce eyes.

“What.”

“Are you aware of the reason SAO has been resurfacing in the media.”

Lila sputtered.

“Of course I do, Its to celebrate the newer games being released!”

A pencil snapped, and the class glanced at an ashen faced Max, his eyes widening.

“No Lila. It's for the memorial of the dead players on the third year marker of the trap being beaten and the living players released.” She took a breath, and addressed the class as they whispered to themselves. “If you would have paid attention. Three of your classmates, are wearing funeral colors, Max, would you like to tell them why?”

“Of course, Marinette. I would assume, from how Adrien ran out, and Marinette looks, that they either played the game, knew someone who was trapped in the game, knew someone who died in the game, were a beta tester but didn't play the game, had family in the game, or had family or otherwise close contact with someone that helped in the original manufacturing before Akihiko Kayaba's dangerous tampering. Therefore, they are in mourning colors to respect the 3,853 fallen players, as well as those 6,147 living, and may be attending the memorial service that will be conducted later this afternoon.”

“Thank you Max.”

Lila sneered, out of view from those under her control before widening her eyes and crying,” I ju-just didnt want t-to think about al-all my friends that died…”

“How could you two bring that up?” Alya snapped, hugging the ‘forlorn’ girl.

“What exactly is going on in here?” Ms. Mendeliev stood in the doorway, surveying the chaos.

“Marinette and Max brought up Lila’s friends from that game, and she got sad.”

“From that game?”

“Yeah from when she was stuck in SAO!” Rose helpfully explained with a reassuring squeeze of Lila's shoulder.

Ms. Mendeleiev’s eyebrow rose comically.

“Miss Rossi, you are aware that it is on record who was and was not in Sword Art, specifically so that we teachers and staff know to be careful of PTSD among other things?”

“...No.”

“Miss Dupain-Chèng, with your consent?”

“Why do you need Marinette’s permission?” Juleka murmered, confused.

“Its alright, go right ahead madame.”

“Class, and specifically you, Miss Rossi, this school hosts exactly two international players from the virtual death game MMO, Sword Art Online. These players include one male, and one female, also known as One Marinette Dupain-Chèng-.”

A still pale Adrien returned with a furious Chloe.

“Ah, Mr. Agreste, perfect timing, are you willing for me to tell your classmates about what we discussed in the hall?”

“Sure…”

“Very well. As I was saying, the two players in this school, are one Miss Marinette Dupain-Chèng, and one Mr. Adrien Agreste.”

The two stared at each other, looking over each other. Marinette stood strong under the class's bewildered gaze, nodding in acknowledgment to Adrien.

Tikki patted her from inside her purse as Lila started up again, clearly scrambling for excuses.

“M-My mother! My mother didnt write my name on the record because she thought that I would get bullied for it!”

“While that may have been possible in other cases, the players of Sword Art are public record, seperate from their alias ingame so as to not promote grudges lasting to the outside.”

Mendeleiev sighed, almost bored, and brushed the topic away as if the students were not edging away from Lila and shooting looks of disapointment, shock, and disbelief at her.

“Anyway, carrying on, as Caline has called in sick, I will be filling in for her. Open your books to page 208, and start annotating. Adrien, Marinette, and Max, if you need to step outside for a moment to calm down, do so.

Max shook his head, replacing his broken pencil with another, as Marinette and Adrien stepped mechanically towards the door.

Outside, it was quiet for a moment.

“Do you plan to go to the memorial today?”

“Father is still unsure If he will allow it. It will probably be crowded, and it does seem like it's going to be a pretty public event…”

“I could send you the e-vite to the online one, or videochat you from the one at the tower?”

“I would like that, please send me the evite, in case he doesn't allow me to go.”

“...What was your handle?”

“Luciole, yours?”

“Rōtasu.”

Notes:

*Luciole means firefly, *Rōtasu means Lotus

[mysweetestcreature]

Meus Amor (Hogwarts!Harry) Part III

(Banner by the lovely @pretty-hazza)

***

Series Masterlist

***

A large grey cloud lies above the castle of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, blocking any chance for the sunlight to produce it’s much-needed warmth. Despite it being June and the end of another year fast approaching, the atmosphere that surrounds the grounds is one that none can describe. It’s the type of feeling that leaves nerves bouncing about in the chest and makes it hard for the lungs to function properly without reason.

So much has changed in these five months.

Five months. That’s how long it had taken for him and Draco to mend the vanishing cabinet in the Room of Requirement. For the entire duration of that time, Harry had wanted nothing more than to see it fixed, so he could go back to his normal routine instead of spending nearly every night disposing of dead pixie bodies in the Black Lake. He’d been running out of excuses to give Y/n of why he’s been feeling so tired in the mornings. And maybe now he can focus more on keeping her as unaffected as possible rather than having to divide his attention with this bloody task. 

Ever since Y/n had been sent to the Hospital Wing because of that dimwitted Hopkins, Harry can’t help but keep a close eye on her when someone that rouses his suspicion just as much as looks at her funny. At first, he thought his paranoia had been overriding his sensibility, after all, he and Draco are the only two death eaters within the student population (at least that he’s aware of). Although, it has come to his attention that there are those, much like Hopkins, that are well aware of the occurrences within the Dark Lord’s circle. The scariest part of this is that Harry doesn’t know what they know. He hasn’t been able to pinpoint the extent of their knowledge, and if they’re aware of what he has dangling on a thin thread.

As he sits on the floor, however; his back perched up against the cabinet’s sleek wooden exterior, he can’t deny the uneasiness that’s eating him up from the inside. The bird they had used for this final trial run pecks greedily on the feed he had laid out for it on a small napkin. It’s alive, so incredibly full of life and completely unscathed by its journey to and from the sister cabinet at Borgin and Burkes. He had checked it for any lost limbs but found it to be as healthy as ever. 

“We’ve done it,” he says, although any traces of confidence are absent. The thoughts of what the Dark Lord will have in store for him refuse to leave the forefront of his mind. He’d be mental if he were to assume that this would have been the extent of his services. The mark on his forearm a constant reminder that he’s bounded to this world he wishes he had never known. 

It’s almost comical how even through the use of concealment charms, he can still feel the dark mark sit heavy on his skin. Every single day he’ll feel it prickle with pain underneath his sleeves, as though someone were stabbing him with a hundred needles inflamed with the Fires of Hell. He’s grown accustomed to the pain, however; and he’s surprised that he still feels anything at all. 

“So, we have,” Malfoy’s voice just as weary. His steel grey eyes mindlessly staring out in front of him. His usually slicked back hair disheveled from having run his hands through them one too many times in the past half hour. This isn’t where he ends.

The bird chirps its jaunty melody, a tune that would make even the grumpy Mr. Filch crack a wholehearted smile. Its song reminiscent of all good things that life has to offer, like warm summer days that one can spend lazing away underneath the cooling shade of an oak tree with his favorite person. But to the two boys sitting in the Room of Requirement, it serves as a prelude of what will happen come the fortnight. 

An underlying feeling of apprehension burns at the pit of his stomach whenever he thinks about it. He wishes he didn’t know, at least that way his conscience would save him from the shocks of pained regret that leaves the blood running thin within his veins and the tips of his fingers becoming as cold as metal.

***

Recently, it’s dawned on Y/n that by this time next year, she’ll be a full-fledged adult (by Wizarding World standards, that is). Both her parents have started getting on her back about plans for her future in bits and pieces from each one of their lengthy letters, and it really has started to freak her out. It’s not that she hasn’t given it much thought because of course she has! It’s just that she seems to be incapable of coming to a solid conclusion because she doesn’t have the faintest idea of how she wants to go about making such an important decision, and she’s not even an indecisive person. Being a half-blood, she gets the best of both worlds, so her options are virtually unlimited. And she guesses that may be where she’s at a disadvantage. 

There are two roads that she can choose from. She could proceed with her education and move forward and attend a muggle university. But what would she study? Arithmancy and Astronomy are two of her best subjects, but the idea of being a mathematician or astronomist doesn’t quite tickle her fancy. Her mum works as a clinical trials manager for a major pharmaceutical, having received a degree in biology from Imperial College London. The benefits that come with the job are more than satisfactory, whatever that means. 

The other choice is to find herself a place in the Wizarding World workforce, but it seems as though it’s limited to jobs within the Ministry. Her dad loves being an auror, even though the hours have become quite hectic in the passing months. She remembers when she was a little girl and he’d take her to the office and let her play with some of the trinkets––all safely de-hexed, but cool nonetheless––in the Improper Use of Muggle Artefacts division because he and Arthur Weasley had always gotten along well. 

As she lays wide awake in her bed, each one of her roommates fast asleep at this late hour––or would it be considered early? ––she lets out a long huff of annoyance because she knows she doesn’t need to worry about this just yet. But she hates the uncertainty of it all. From what Harry’s told her, he’s meant to take over his family’s business (they’re a manufacturing company that supplies various potions to hospitals all around the United Kingdom). In short, he’s got a himself a secure plan. And thinking about Harry and the future simultaneously just makes her smile because she can’t see one without the other.

***

“I presume you come here baring good news?” The greasy-haired professor doesn’t bother to turn around, his attention instead directed to the uneven taps of rain drops against the window pane. Harry can see a fogged image of the man’s reflection from where he stands on the other side of the deep colored mahogany desk. His face as undecipherable as ever, his eyes hinting no emotion as he stares forward into the storm. 

Harry clears his throat then stretches his jaw as he gets a feel for the words that rattle in his mouth. “Yes, sir,” he reports, his hands digging into the depths of his pockets and toying with the fabric between his index finger and thumb. “Everything is in order for…” but he can’t find it in himself to say it aloud. His chest rises as the oxygen swirls through his flared nostrils. “It’s ready.”

Snape just barely turns his head, the side profile of his face shadowed out by the darkness that stretches across the four walls of the room. And yet, Harry can still feel the penetrating observance of his eyes. 

A long-aggravated silence rings through his ears and pokes at the base of his spine. He swears there’s a hint of something else infused in the air that surrounds them. Could it be a fragment of hesitance that exudes itself with each calculated breath? Ever since Harry had learned about Desmond Styles’ participation within the inner workings of the Dark Lord’s army, it had seemed to be a known fact that Severus Snape’s loyalties had been with Albus Dumbledore…so the question remains as to why he’s found himself in a situation such as this one. Was the Dark Lord’s power and influence really that strong, that he could steal away an ally of the greatest wizard to ever live? (And yes, Dumbledore is the greatest wizard to ever live. Even a blind man could see it.) Or maybe he was holding something over Snape’s head as well. It definitely isn’t an unheard-of tactic.

The sound of the clock striking midnight from all the way in the tower can be heard over the lack of vocal acknowledgement. He supposes that now would be the appropriate time to bow out. With tired steps, he drags his feet over the creaky wooden floorboards. All he wishes to do is close his eyes and melt into the comfort of his sheets and sleep for the next week or so. Before he can fully push down on the door’s bronze lever, the man behind him finally speaks up.

“Protect her,” is all he says. Harry’s brows form a crease just above the bridge of his nose. His heart picking up speed as he turns abruptly on his heel, a sudden cackle of lightning revealing an absence in front of the window. 

***

Tick.

The pendulum of the large clock sways back and forth, never missing a beat. Minutes being reduced to meager seconds, and the scribbling, scrabbling, scratching of students quickly jotting down their final thoughts becomes more frantic.

Tock. 

Fuck. Where has time gone? Has it really been three hours already? Looks like the Pepperup Potion only does work if one has a cold. 

Tick.

There’s a faint sniffling coming from somewhere in the back––poor lad has most likely cracked under the pressure. Is it question fifteen? It’s most definitely question fifteen. 

Tock.

“Quills down,” Professor McGonagall announces to her sixth year N.E.W.T.-level class. A mixture of groans and sighs of relief spread through the space as the sound of chairs scraping against the floor fill every corner of the examination room. Some students look as though they’d just been on the end of particularly horrific bat-bogey hex, while others are just relieved that it’s all over, erupting in cheers because freedom is just upon the horizon, nearly tangible in their palms. 

Y/n caps her ink bottle and carefully places each quill in their allotted slot in her pouch. If there’s one thing she hates, it’s when their feathers get all ruffled (the other day she’d scolded her boyfriend for just tossing them in his bag…tossing them!). “That wasn’t bad at all,” she says, looking up momentarily to smile at Liam who had been seated right in front of her for the last three hours. 

“I thought it would be loads worse, honestly,” Liam snorts as he stretches out his arms. “That question about the bird conjuring charm? A first year could’ve easily answered it!” he shakes his head and lifts himself out of his seat. 

“It was a bit harder than that, you modest,” she teases in response, reaching over and swatting his shoulder. Ever since she’d first met Liam in first year––they’d become friends when she sat next to him during the start-of-term feast––he’s been known to be exceptionally bright. (And although he’ll never admit it, she knows that he had a small crush on Hermione Granger up until recently. Poor lad had been in a horrible mood when her and Ron Weasley had come to a mutual understanding.) 

As for her, she’s just excited that Harry will be coming home with her once they arrive back at King’s Cross. If all goes well, she’s hoping that maybe he can stay a bit longer…say the whole the summer? She mustn’t get too ahead of herself, of course, but she can’t help it! Just imagining all that they can do in the next few months has her feeling all bubbly inside, like whenever she eats a bunch of Fizzing Whizzbees all at once. Never before has she felt this happy and excited to have someone in her life to the point where she gets giddy just thinking about him.

Strong hands slide around her waist and pull her into their owner’s sturdy chest. Light kisses trail across the side of her face, and she can’t help but giggle as she relaxes into his inviting warmth. He’s like her own personal furnace when she needs it. “Go well?” Harry asks, turning her around in his arms. She hums a response, bringing up a finger to poke the crevice of his dimple that accompanies an utterly adorable lopsided smile. 

***

“Do muggles really wrap their dicks in rubber or some sort?” Harry shoots up from the floor, only to hit his head on the underside of his four-poster, where he had been searching for something that he can’t even remember at the moment because the throbbing in his head shoots to the front that he can feel it just above his eyebrows. A string of colorful words rush out of his mouth like water through the pipes as he balances himself on his feet.

“What are you on about?” he shoots back, grabbing a pillow and chucking it harshly in Niall’s direction. He catches it though, then plops down atop Harry’s mattress, kicking his shoes off––he knows much Harry hates dirty feet on his perfectly clean linen––and linking his fingers together behind his head as he stares up at the drapes above him. 

“Overhead Justin Finch-Fletchley in the courtyard earlier, said something along the lines,” he muses turning on his side to look at Harry, who still sports the scowl along his polished features. “Was just wondering if you knew anything about it or if Y/n’s already wrapped your willy up nice and snug.” Niall falls into a fit of laughter at the progression of emotion displaying on Harry’s face. 

“No, she hasn’t,” he rolls his eyes at the blonde. What irks him more though is that he actually knows what he’s referring to because he’d begrudgingly asked Y/n this a short while ago, and how he wishes he hadn’t. When magic folk have sex, they mutter a simple contraception charm to eliminate the chances of an unplanned pregnancy or take the Morning After potion if they’ve allowed the hormones to gain the upper hand. But he can’t even wrap his mind around having to wrap himself in a pathetic piece of rubber whenever he wants to be intimate with his girlfriend because it really does seem like the ultimate mood-killer.

Other than that, he’s been making his best efforts into learning more about muggles for her sake because he’s fully aware of how important that part of her life is. So far, he’s learned all that he can about what not to do in front of those who think that magic is only a mere part of a kid’s birthday party entertainment act. Not to mention that he’ll be thrown into that mix in the coming days. And fuck, he’s so bloody nervous about the concept of it all. More than anything, he wants her parents to like him because he just really loves her, bless him he does. This could very well make or break them (aside from everything else going on). She says that they’ll love him, but he’s not fully convinced just yet. 

***

It’s a day for the girls, or at least that’s what she’d been told when they’d dragged her out of their dorm room before she could fully open her eyes. She understands that she hasn’t been spending as much time as they had in the years prior, so this little expenditure is long overdue. Also, Hermione had given her a look of pure desperation because there’s no telling what will happen if Lavender says something to piss her off if she isn’t there to accompany them. They’re still at each other’s throats about the whole Ron ordeal, which is partially the reason that she spends so much time away from Gryffindor Tower. 

That’s how she finds herself in the middle of Gladrags Wizardwear, scavenging the racks for something that will catch her attention. She has half the mind to purchase those socks that scream when they get too smelly, just for the fun of it. Or maybe she should look into buying her dad some new robes to wear at those Ministry formals because her mum has been complaining about him wearing the same outfit at the Christmas parties. 

“Oh!” she spots a dark blue button-up that she’s certain would look absolutely amazing on Harry. He’s also in need of some more clothes because she may have nicked a few of his nicer shirts whenever she spends the night. They’re just so comfy and soft and have his scent embedded in each threat, and now over a dozen of them are stored away in her trunk. 

“Is that for the beau?” Parvati comes up behind her, pushing her gorgeous raven hair behind her shoulder as she takes a closer look. When Y/n offers her a blushing smile, she claps her hands together. She’s always telling her how adorable her and Harry are. And since he’s taken to sitting at their table during meals more often, he’s less of a mystery (for the most part) to them. “That’s so sweet!” 

The sound of hangers crashing to the floor disrupts their conversation. “It’s sickening, is more like it,” Lavender rolls her eyes. Yep, she’s still bitter. “Boys are nothing but immature assholes that’ll break your heart once they’ve taken all they’ve can from you because apparently you’re only good for a few months until he’s moved on to someone else!” Every person single in the store pauses what they’re doing, most offering their looks of pure sympathy because the young witch is so completely distraught. Even Hermione can’t even refute such a statement because deep down she does accept to be the reason that for her heartbreak. “Now which one of these dresses brings out the gold in my irises?” Had she not just had a mini fit, Y/n would have told her that the two dresses she’s holding up appear to be the same exact shade of purple. Despite herself, she points to the one on the left, the apparent ‘amethyst’ color, and Lavender rushes into one of the fitting rooms towards the back of the store. 

***

The library is still his favorite place to snog his girlfriend, especially after exams when it’s left nearly deserted. They had snuck past Madam Pince’s desk while she had been interrogating a few students on their––ridiculously long––overdue books. No wonder the librarian is on edge all the time, with all of the nagging she has to do come the end of every year. They had caught the end of a particularly impassioned speech about how books are meant to be treated with the utmost respect, and not to be used as means for cleaning up niffler feces during Care of Magical Creatures. And Y/n can’t imagine the reason why one would even go about such a technique. (Everyone knows that Hagrid stores the really good cleaners in the shed!)

Harry has her pressed up against a bookshelf in the dragon section because it’s always nice and toasty compared to the others, and she still feels a bit cold despite it being so close to July. She never leaves her room without some sort of extra layer, and he’s resorted to bringing along a spare jumper with him just in case she might need it. 

“We’re going to get in trouble,” she giggles into his mouth, and he swallows each one as he continues to suck fervently on her bottom lip. There’s a lingering taste of toffee on her tongue, one that he finds to be particularly intoxicating at the moment––but really, when doesn’t he find anything about her to be? 

“Don’t care, love,” he mumbles back, his breath tickling the shell of her ear as one of his hands reach down to hook under her knee to lift her thigh to wrap around his hip. Goosebumps scatter all across her skin as his calloused fingers run higher and higher up her lower half. She bites her lip and tilts her head back, granting him access to as much of her as possible.  

There really is no chance that he’ll ever get enough of her. From her love of all things sugary, to her obsession with reading Witch Weekly articles that he’s sure are written without suitable evidence to support whatever point they’re trying to get across. Even her animosity towards flying––which is not to say that he still isn’t trying to get her more comfortable on a broom because he really is trying his best. The other day he’d planned on giving her some lessons, but his Gryffindor is a determined little thing. She knows he can never resist her, especially when she ups the soft and cuddly factor by the tenfold. It only took a bit of convincing and sweet tender kisses to the base of his jaw, and the next thing he knew they were having a picnic by the lake with Ashes during a rare appearance from the sun.

They manage to go another couple of minutes before getting interrupted. It’s a low cough that barely reaches his ears, and he’s a bit annoyed because he was this close to getting to love on her proper. A part of him is afraid that it’ll be Madam Pince about ready to zap his bum into oblivious because they’ve been warned so many times before about this. She’s threatened him with multiple detentions until the day her leaves the doors of Hogwarts for the last time. But he turns only to meet…well, he’s not quite sure who she is. 

“Can I help you?” he asks.

The girl, who appears to be no older than twelve stares up at them shyly, her nose twitching in the slightest. “Professor Dumbledore wants to see you in his office,” she barely squeaks out. 

What? Professor Dumbledore wishes to see him? In his six years of being a student here, he doesn’t think he’s spoken more than ten words to the elderly wizard, and those had just been respectful greetings when they cross paths across the field. 

Y/n rests her palm on his chest, smiling genially at the girl before offering her thoughts. “Are you sure he needs this Harry? I’m sure you mean Potter, yeah?”  

“No,” the girl replies timidly. “I have a note requesting for Harry Styles.” She reaches into the pocket of her jeans and pulls out a precisely folded piece of parchment. Harry eyes it suspiciously for a moment, before taking it from in between the girl’s fingers. 

Harry, please meet me in my office this afternoon for a spot of tea. I hope you like earl grey! The password is ‘sherbet lemon.’

All the best,

Professor Dumbledore

Now he’s completely fucked. He closes his eyes and leans forward against Y/n’s forehead, taking in deep breaths through his nose. “I’ll stop by Gryffindor later, yeah?” He gives her a departing kiss, letting his hands slide down from around her waist slowly until they’re at his sides.

***

Before his knuckles can knock on the door of the headmaster’s office, it swings open before him. Harry looks up from his feet and peeks his head into the spacious room with ceiling lights illuminating the space rather delicately. 

“Come in, Harry,” he hears a voice call out for him, and he finds it to be so impeccably warm and inviting, and the type to hold so many stories about everything life has to offer. “You’re just in time! I’ve just got it up to the perfect temperature,” he motions to the pot, with blue floral accents lining the edges down by the base, as well as around its slender spout. He chooses to focus on this, rather than Dumbledore’s wistful smile as he walks forward. 

A wave of déjà vu washes over him. He’s been in this type of situation before, albeit the sense of hospitality somehow making him feel a bit queasy. It was only some nights ago that he’d been standing on the other side of Snape’s less luxurious desk, delivering news that would affect the person in front of him now.  

There’s a mumbling coming from above, he allows his gaze to drift upwards, where all portraits of former Hogwarts Headmasters scatter across the wall. An argument seems to have arisen, from the words he can just barely make out. “Will you lot hush, can’t you see we have company?” Phineas Nigellus Black yells out. Dexter Fortescue scoffs aloud, “I will if Fronsac would shut that bloody insufferable trap of his!”

“Gentleman,” Dumbledore turns around, his hands placed firmly on his hips as he gives them all such an authoritative expression that makes each pair of lips pull tightly in a straight line. “You all know how much I enjoy your company, but maybe take the day to visit your other portraits, hmm?” Each former headmaster beckons a departure, shifting to either side of the frame and disappearing from eyesight (although, he does hear one of them mutter a complaint of being kicked out of his own office). “Harry, my boy, please do take a seat.”

Harry climbs the platform that Dumbledore’s desk is situated on, a noticeable timidity as he takes them one by one. A chair––presumably for him––sits just opposite of the grander chair of the headmaster. It has a deep shaded red cushion sitting nice a plump atop of it. When he sets himself down, he finds his bum just molding in the awfully comfortable padding. “Profe-”

“Do you take milk and sugar in your tea?” the elderly wizard asks him. 

“No, sir,” he quips. He listens as the steaming liquid pours into the matching tea cup. Dumbledore reaches across the table to hand him the cup with its matching saucer, to which he cautiously takes from his wrinkled hands. The seemingly charred skin rousing his attention for the time being. “Thank you, sir.”

***

She’s growing restless with each passing minute. When Harry had been called up to the headmaster’s office, she had expected it to only last a half an hour, tops, and that had been over two hours ago. What could Dumbledore possibly want with her boyfriend? He’s not a troublemaker by any means, well…unless you count getting yelled at by Madam Pince or Filch, but if that were the case, she would have been called up as well. 

What if he’s going to talk to him about his father? Harry would absolutely dread it! It’s understandably still a touchy subject for him. She’s working on a letter to send her dad before they leave. It’s basically her begging him not to bring up anything about Desmond Styles and especially about You-Know-Who. She hears the snide comments that have been erupting from particularly obnoxious students about how the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. And if it weren’t for her mum teaching her to not let such heathens affect her in any way, no matter how much she wants to snap back at them for implying such things about Harry. 

“Will you quit it? I can’t bloody focus on my book when you’re being all fidgety,” Liam scolds her, thwacking the cover of George Orwell’s 1984 to her feet rested in his lap. She sticks her tongue out at him, kicking the book enough that it lands face down on the carpet. “Oi, the pages will crease!” 

***

“You and Ms. Y/l/n are an item, yes?” Dumbledore asks, genuinely curious as he sets the teacup and sauces down on the flat surface. Harry nods, a fondness in the way he smiles. “Ah, to be young and in love, as the saying goes, I think.” Both chuckle soundly. Conversation has been rather light, and there must be something in the tea because Harry’s feeling so at ease in spite of the internal chaos his nerves had been sending him through earlier. It’s definitely the tea, he thinks. There had been this natural sweetness to it that let his muscles relax enough so he could be a more sociable human being. 

It’s also oddly satisfying to gush over his girl to someone that isn’t Niall. The blonde Irishman has been up his arse lately because his most recent date had gone horribly wrong by the time the food had come to the table. He still isn’t quite sure what happened, but he guesses it would be in everyone’s best interest to not pry into the matter. Which is why when Y/n had surprised him the other day with that button-up she had bought on her day out with the girls, he had to hide it under his shirt because Niall’s mood would only get worse if he were to have seen. 

“And we’d do anything for the people we love, yes?” A twinkle in his eyes as he peers over his half-moon spectacles that look as though they’re about to fall over the tip of his nose.

“Yeah,” Harry finds himself saying, his lips formed into that boyish grin that could accurately tell anyone how enamored he is. “I’d do anything for her.” Then it hits him. The reason why he’d been invited for tea this afternoon was this. He wipes his mouth down with the napkin spread out on his lap. “Professor, I-”

Dumbledore sits back in his throne-like chair. His fingers stroking along his long grey beard, picking out a few crumbs from the biscuits they had been indulging in. “The thing about love is,” he pauses momentarily, chuckling to himself when he finds a particularly chunky crumb tangled in the tips. “Is that it has the power to drive us to do things––some that we may not be proud––because we fear losing those who mean the most to us.” Harry swallows hard, and suddenly the tea is leaving a tart taste in his mouth. 

“I’m sorry,” his voice lost in the guilt. “I-I wish I didn’t have to do this, but he…I can’t lose her.”

“You shouldn’t apologize for wanting to protect your loved ones, Harry.” Dumbledore stands up and comes around the desk, leaning back along the edge just meters away from where Harry becomes restless on the plump red cushion. “You are a better person than you think you are.”

***

It’s a few days later, his girl fast asleep on his chest as places repeated kisses to the crown of her head. The curtains around his four-poster providing them with the privacy needed to shield themselves from his four––now three––roommates. 

Tonight, is the night. The night that will spark the beginning of a war that he isn’t sure will ever cease to exist, at least in this lifetime. Maybe he can convince Y/n to run away with him to some place where the Dark Lord’s influence doesn’t reach. They could start their life there, in their own personal oasis where they wouldn’t have to worry about surviving into the next day. He would marry her, find her a nice rock that would look gorgeous on her fourth finger alongside her current ring. Then maybe when they’re ready they could have a few precious little babies, a mini him and a mini her running around in their diapers and making Ashes’ fur change colors each time they giggle whenever he tickles their squishy little bellies. He bets they’ll inherit a proclivity for sweets just like their mummy, and hopefully won’t jump on her ‘no flying’ business because he’s definitely planning on taking them out on his broom once they’re old enough. 

She starts to stir in her sleep, burying her face further into the crook of his neck and mumbling his name ever so softly. He strokes her hair and whispers sweet nothings into her ear to keep her safe away in dreamland. “Shh, I’m here, angel. I’m right here.” And then she’s still again, the steady rise and fall of her chest comes as a relief. 

It doesn’t last though. At exactly 10:49 pm on the 30th of June, the Hogwarts community says goodbye to their beloved headmaster. His body lays lifeless on the cold ground at the foot of the Astronomy Tower. Niall had woken them up in frantic haze, and the three of them rushed out to see if the spreading news had any truth to it. Although Harry had been dreadfully anticipating this moment for six months. And now that scene is right in front of him, it’s inexplicable and something he wished he could shield her from. 

Harry holds on to her hand tightly as they become encompassed in the crowd gathered around the fallen wizard. The sniffles and cries of students and faculty alike are released into the darkness casted by the storm cloud overhead. When Y/n catches a glimpse of Harry Potter hunched over Dumbledore’s body, bitter sobs growing louder and louder as he shakes him, urging him to open his eyes.

But he doesn’t. And the sight bites at everyone’s heart.

Professor McGonagall is the first one to draw her wand. A small ray of light emitting from the tip as she stares up to the sky through a glossed layer of tears. In an almost practiced manner, hundreds of wands are raised up in the air, fighting off the shadows that creep around in the antagonistic night until a stroke of illumination nudges its way to disperse the cloud of its evil presence and give the headmaster the rightful parting he deserves, even if the world isn’t quite ready to say goodbye. 

Y/n softly cries into his chest, her tears absorbing through the material of his thin grey tank and burning his skin. The last words spoken to him still fresh in his mind and holds such important meaning. It had been simple, but to him, it meant the world. Not because now he feels vindicated for having the dark mark permanently embedded on his left forearm, but because he was served hope on a silver platter. He sucks in harshly, his eyes scanning through the crowd in search for that unmistakable head of platinum blond hair that he had been working so close with for months. 

Draco Malfoy is nowhere in sight, he had fulfilled his mission. 

And now Albus Dumbledore was dead.

***

When Harry pictured himself meeting his girlfriend’s father, he hadn’t anticipated it being at a funeral. He knows Dumbledore hadn’t wanted him to feel guilty about this, but that’s easier said than done. What if his father had never become a death eater during the first Wizarding War? Would he have been forced to help mend the vanishing cabinet that still remains up in the Room of Requirement? He likes to that things would have turned out differently. He and Y/n walk into the Great Hall hand in hand when she suddenly releases her grip on him and runs towards the man, bringing him in for a big suffocating hug. 

“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” Nicolás pulls away and runs his hand down her ponytail with a faltered tug of the lips. He looks a bit older than she remembers him being over the holidays. A few greyer hairs sprouted at the roots of his hairline and the wrinkles just below his eyelids more prominent when he smiles. 

“I’m fine, dad,” she assures him, running her hand up and down his arm. “Just shaken up is all.” She didn’t know how much she missed him until today. All her life her dad had been her protector, the one she’d run to whenever she was stricken with a nightmare or in a mood when she hadn’t done as well as she would have on a test. But now she has two men to make her feel protected. She looks to her side, anticipating Harry to be there, but instead he’s standing awkwardly where she had left him. Oops. “I’ll be right back,” she tells Nicolás.

Oh gods, he panics as her heels click on the marble floor. She holds out her hand to him when she’s about arm’s length, to which he takes gladly as a reflex. (Curse his desire to always be touching her in some way.) “Want you to meet someone,” her doe-like eyes beaming up at him as she gently tugs him her direction of origin. And now he’s staring directly into a similar pair of eyes, although these are much less loving and much sterner than what he’s used to. 

“Mr. Y/l/n,” he acknowledges, “it’s…um…” breathe, Harry, breathe! “an honor to meet you, sir.” Fabulous first impression, Harry. Ten points to Slytherin! To think he’s been just centimeters away from Voldemort himself, and yet this is probably the closest he’s been to shitting his trousers. 

Nicolás looks him up and down, and Harry can practically feel the judgment oozing with each moment of passing reticence. He tilts his head to Y/n, her lip caught between her teeth as she tries offer him glances of encouragement. 

“Harry,” Nicolás finally breaks, “it’s about time we be properly acquainted.” Harry lets out a long breath––although it’s unobserved by the Y/l/ns––and nods gingerly. Even Y/n exhales in relief because she just wouldn’t know how to handle such a stiff situation at this time. She knew her dad would be sensible, after all, that letter she’d ending up writing him had been about fourteen pages, front and back, which included very clear directives to be nice to him. 

They chat for some time, dancing around the topic of what’s actually happening around them until they’re forced to accept it and find their seats in an empty pew alongside Liam and Niall. Y/n hates funerals, probably more than anyone else she knows. Those hymns they play during the procession of the casket touches her the wrong way and she often finds herself feeling a bit nauseous. But never like this. Now more than ever, she swears that the pungent smell of incense floating around the room touches her nostrils in the worst ways possible. What is this wretched stench? Harry notices the faintest tint of green on her and wraps an arm around her shoulder. 

“Are you okay?” his feels her forehead with the back of his hand. Thankfully she hasn’t got a temperature, but it still doesn’t overcome the fact that she looks about the shade of a green Anjou pear.

***

The train pulls away from Hogsmeade Station, the image of the castle gradually leaving their sites as the engine picks up speed. No one knows what’s to come in the next school year with everything that’s happened. Professor McGonagall had given a solemn message during the end-of-term feast that put things into perspective for many students. This is all really happening. It’s no longer a fear of the when, but a fear of the now. 

“I’m glad we’ll be far away from here,” Harry says as he watches the countryside pass them by. Some of the land destroyed in one of the more recent death eater attacks, the once abundance of prosperous crops now reduced to ash beyond any magical repair. That’s the thing about dark magic, its effects can be irreversible, or as good as. 

The Ministry has come out with a slew of statements, each one as desperate and unbelievable as the last. The people need security, not just near empty words promising a safer tomorrow. Because now the safest place in all of Wizarding Britain has been tainted so drastically that parents will most definitely withhold their children from returning next term; and if Hogwarts is no longer a refuge for security, then what place is?  

“We should just stay away forever,” he says into a whisper. Y/n looks up at him through her eyelashes.

“Where would we go?” she dares to ask him, tracing her finger over his torso. He shrugs his shoulders. “Doesn’t matter, as long as I’ve got you, I could live just about anywhere.” 

“You mean that?” 

“Every word.”

***

Harry likes Muggle London. More than he’s willing to admit. 

The idea of living here crosses his mind whenever he finds something new that he genuinely enjoys. Muggles have these nifty screens that have people inside of them that lets everyone know what the weather is outside before even setting foot out the front door. He’d been glued in front of the telly for a good couple of hours before Y/n had to forcibly drag him away because he’d been sitting too close and would definitely strain his eyeballs. She thinks it’s cute though, how excited he gets when he learns something new or is presented with some crazy invention unconceivable to the average pureblood’s brain. 

He’s getting along with her parents as well. Linette Y/l/n is such a wonderful woman and now he knows where Y/n gets her sweetness from. The first day they’d arrived, she’d asked him what his favorite meal was and prepared it for dinner a few hours later. (Don’t tell anyone, but he thinks it’s better than what his house elf, Tin-Tin, has ever made. If word gets out, then he knows the poor little elf would punish herself.) Nicolás is at work most of the time, but they did go out for lunch yesterday, and the two talked all things quidditch, much to Y/n’s contempt. There’s still a smidgen of tension that linger in the air between them, but Harry doesn’t let it affect him for his girlfriend’s sake. He still isn’t certain if he likes him or not because sometimes he feels himself being observed a little too closely for his liking. 

What he likes most of all, however, is that her room is right across the hall from his. And since this isn’t school, he’s actually allowed to enter her bedroom––which he’d been in once before on Christmas Eve into Christmas day––and really get a feel for who she is. Her room is just as adorable as she is, he decides now that he’s finally had a chance to soak in every detail. The walls painted a muted pink that appear white at first glance. She has a whole shelf full of pictures of her through the years in order of when they had been taken. 

“You were such a cutie, just look at those pigtails!” he gushes, picking up a picture of her from when she was only five years old. This of course causes her to blush and give him that pout that always manages to make him swoon. “Now you’re a right beauty, aren’t you? My beautiful girl that I love to bits and pieces.” He pulls her into his lap and nuzzles into her cheek. “Love you so much, I do.” These muggles are making feel even softer than usual. 

“Yeah?” she giggles, giving him a quick peck to the lips as her fingers tread up into his brown curls. He nods thoughtfully and kisses her chin. “That’s a relief because I love you lots too.” 

Their loving looks soon turn into much more, their lips languidly moving together while their hands roam over each other’s bodies. Her parents aren’t home, which makes this the ideal time to show her just how much he means every word of his affections. (Imagine the look on Nicolás’ face if he were to walk in on them.) He’s quick to pull her shirt over her head, laying her down on her back on top of the mattress.  

***

She washes the mixture of sweat and sex off her body, humming along to a Beatles song she had heard her mum blasting before she’d left for work. Her strawberry scented body wash all nice and foamy on the loofa that she moves all over her skin. 

“Penny lane is in my ears and in my eyes there beneath the tides-ow!” she drops the loofa on the shower floor and cups her breasts in her hands. The girls have been feeling awfully tender recently, and she thinks it might be because her period will soon be gracing her with its presence. She’d nearly punched Harry in the gut earlier because he’d taken to tweaking one of her nipples in his mouth, which under normal conditions would have definitely gotten her motor running, but they’re so ultra-sensitive right now that it just didn’t feel good at all. This could only mean that its symptoms are going to hit her like a load of bricks. 

***

They take the Piccadilly line from Gloucester Road to Covent Gardens. (Harry’s become completely taken with the London Underground, says the tube is his favorite muggle invention of all time.) She figured she’d show him the wonder that is Neal’s Garden, with the eccentric multi-colored buildings that spread throughout the alley. It’s not as crowded as other parts of London that she’d taken him to. There are definitely less people here than when she had taken him down the entire length of Oxford Street. No, this place has just the perfect number of civilians to make it feel alive and vibrant. 

The tight passageways lively with different stores to fit all the health and wellness needs anyone could ever have––Y/n drags Harry to the location’s namesake organic beauty shop the second she spots it, and the two invest their money in lovely smelling moisturizers for both the body and face. She’s seen his toiletries bag, and there’s just as much product (maybe even more) than in hers. This really does explain why he’s got such perfect and pore-less skin. 

When their stomachs grow a bit peaky, they find a quaint little restaurant at the end of the street that Y/n claims to serve the best pizza in all of London. Both moan at the taste of the gooey cheese stringing along after each bite from the wood-fired crust that has just the most delectable crunch to it. The two share a few innocent kisses here and there that taste of tomato and basil but are sweet nonetheless.

“You’ve got a little…here, I’ll get it for you, love.” He leans in attaches his lips to the side of her mouth to rid it of a tiny dribble of pizza sauce. “There, all clean,” he cheeks, winking at her before helping himself to another slice. 

Because there’s always room for dessert, at least as Y/n so proudly believes in, they share a large cup of gelato between the two of them on a bench in one of the more secluded areas. The lady behind the counter had only given them one spoon, so she feeds the both of them, alternating who gets to take a bite from the creamy goodness of stracciatella. But Harry is a bit greedy, directing the spoon to his awaiting mouth when it had been on its way into hers. 

“Hey!” Y/n gasps, furrowing her eyebrows because that bite had had a good amount of chocolate on it––and he doesn’t even fancy chocolate as much as she does! She dips her finger alongside the inner edges of the cup, coating it nice and even with a chunk of cold sweetness before rubbing it all over the side of Harry’s face. “You’ve got a little-” she mimics him, stifling a fit of giggles because he just looks so absolutely scandalized. 

“So that’s what you’re playing at, yeah?” He takes a fingerful of gelato and smears down the entire length of her nose and over her cupid’s bow. And they end up getting in a little food fight, ignoring the stares of those around them as they flick whatever remains in the cup at each other. 

By the end of it all, they’re both a sticky mess, and Harry pulls them into an empty washroom and freshens them both up with a cleaning spell that rids their clothes of any evidence of a mess. And they may have taken longer than they thought because someone comes banging on the door as though meant to punch through it. “Oi, no shagging in the toilets, there are people out here that need to have a wee!”  

***

He’s happy, so unexplainably and purely happy that he doesn’t think anything will ever top the feeling. It’s like all of their problems have been left behind in the Wizarding World, and now they’re free to carry on with their lives without fearing for the worst. 

As they head back in the direction of the tube station, he revels in how the warmth of the sun radiates onto her hair, casting somewhat of halo around the rim of her head. Gods, he didn’t think it was possible for her to look even more angelic than she already does. And he just can’t help himself. He presses her in between him and the outside wall of a store, one hand on her waist, the other just above her entire height. His lips hover over hers, breathing into her mouth as he looks down at her through half-lidded eyes. 

“My perfect angel.” She can feel the air of his words puff in her face as she reaches up and cups his face to finally press her trembling lips to his in a passionate exchange that has her knees buckling and barely able to support her weight had it not been for him holding onto her so tight.

***

“You two seem to have had a nice time,” Linette says when they enter through the front door. 

Y/n kisses her mum on the cheek. “Sure did,” she smiles, pulling out all of their shopping bags from her little purse. Extension charms surely are a blessing to this world. 

“Did you have fun, Harry? Hope this one didn’t tire you out too much. I know I’m always an exhausted mess when we go out,” Linette pokes fun at her daughter, who in turn scrunches her face into a pout. “Oh, don’t be like that. If you keep making that face, it’ll get stuck that way.” 

The playful banter between a mother and her child, it all feels so foreign to him. He can’t remember the last time he and Anne had shared a laugh, or even a look of admiration like Y/n and Linette are now. He and Gemma used to pick her flowers from the garden every morning when they were smaller. Tin-Tin would help them pick out the prettiest ones with the largest petals and greenest stems and wrap them up in some fancy colored paper to give to her at breakfast. Those are the memories he holds dearest to his heart because it’s all he has left of their once happy family.

“What’s wrong?” Y/n asks, wrapping her arms around his neck and bringing him out of his thoughts. “Haven’t said a word since we’ve gotten here.”

He shakes his head and pecks gently at her forehead. “It’s nothing, love. Just tired is all.” She eyes him suspiciously for a moment but decides to drop the subject. They talk about the day’s events with Linette. Y/n shows her all the things she bought, from the boots she had gotten off a clearance sale to those hydrating facials masks from Neal’s Yard Remedies that are meant to tighten the skin and leave it looking young and refreshed. 

***

Y/n hums happily as she helps her mum in the kitchen, that same Beatles song from earlier today. 

“Since it’s just us girls here,” Linette speaks up, popping her head out the archway leading to the dining room. “Tell me about him,” she bumps their hips together as they chop the vegetables for stew she plans on serving later.

“Well,” Y/n starts, overwhelmed by all the things she can say about him because she could go on and on about even the simplest of his habits that she can’t decide on where to start. “He’s amazing, mum. Really, really great.” A smile lifting the edges of her lips. She really does feel like the luckiest girl to someone like him love her the way he does. “I always get butterflies in my tummy when I’m around him, he treats me like I’m a princess.” 

“I’m happy for you, lovey. He seems like a nice boy.”

Knowing that her mum approves of him means the world to her, and she knows that her dad will come around full circle as well. 

“I know you probably don’t want to talk about this, but as your mum I feel obligated to ask.” Uh oh. “Have you two,” she bops her head as if that would make what she was trying to elude to so blatantly obvious. “You know, you’re young and sometimes young people get into these moods and one thing leads to another and…”

“Mum!” she gasps, dropping the knife on the cutting board and covering her ears. “You’re right, I don’t want to talk about this!” La, la, la. She much rather engage in the whole ‘future’ conversation because at least that doesn’t involve something so private. 

But Linette’s fingers wrap around her wrist and forcefully remove bring them away from her head. “I’m not entirely sure how you magic lot take care of this kind of thing. Just promise me you’re being careful, yeah? That’s all I ask!” 

“We are, mum. Promise,” she groans, ignoring the way her stomach flips over into somersaults. Thankfully Harry’s still asleep in his room, and won’t ever have to listen to how mum is making her cheeks flush a violent shade of red. 

“I’m just saying!” Linette pokes her sides. “And I think you’d appreciate me talking to you about this than your dad because God only knows he’d sputter out.” 

***

He stretches out the knots in his back after having waken up from a rejuvenating nap. The sheer white curtains allowing some of the sunlight enter into his room and lighten his aura. Although, he’s feeling a bit annoyed because he could’ve sworn that his girlfriend had been asleep next to him when he had closed his eyes. She’s probably in the kitchen snacking on those Mars Bars that she bought while in queue at the Waitrose yesterday. His feet swing over the side of the bed, his head still trying to wake up along with the rest of his body.

There’s an unaccounted-for gust of wind that blows his hair onto his face. Maybe he had left the window open, or maybe Y/n had done so before she left? He finally lifts his bum off the soft cushioning and limps his way over. He moves the curtain aside, but he’s despondent to see that everything is sealed and locked. His eyes instinctively move up to look past the window as a sudden chill rattles his bones. 

Across the street is a man dressed in all black robes, his long white-blonde hair pulled back into a small low ponytail. He stands there with no regard for the curious glances of pedestrians that pass him on the sidewalk. This man shouldn’t be here. That had been part of the deal. Harry’s fists curl tightly into his palms, his nails digging crescents in the skin. The man outside signals for him to come down with just a finger. He’s taunting him, trying to intimidate him, and gods, he hates that it’s working. 

Harry grabs his wand from the side table then apparates to the empty alleyway a few houses down. He skillfully lands firmly on his feet without a hint of imbalance. His wand shoved back into his front pocket, it’s handle covered by his shirt. 

The approaching footsteps kick the bits of rubble on the ground. A daunting laugh nearly venomous to the ears. “How’s life amongst the muggles, Styles?” 

“Get the fuck out of here, Yaxley.” He grips his neck tightly in his hands and shoves him harshly into the brick wall, half the mind to choke him on the spot. 

The death eater struggles to breathe, but a smirk still remains on his face. “My, my, someone’s got himself a temper,” he chokes out. With the tut of his tongue he draws a letter from his robes pocket, his name addressed on the front of the envelope in finely printed lettering. “A message from the Dark Lord.” 

He eyes it cautiously before releasing his strangling hold and snatching the letter from his pale fingers. Yaxley coughs out as he tries to absorb more oxygen in his lungs. He glares at Harry but doesn’t act on whatever bitterness he may have racked up. 

No, instead he decides to push all the buttons he knows will emit a desirable reaction. “Got yourself quite the girl there, lad. Would be right shame to see something happen to that pretty face of hers.” 

Ignore him, he tells himself. It takes all the strength given to him the forces above to not react. Not when her and her mum are so close distance. 

“Couldn’t have just sent an owl?” he sneers, tearing the top of the envelope and pulling out the folded piece of paper that he expects to have some sort of new assignment he’s meant to complete. When he unfurls it, however, there are two words written.

We know.

“What is this bullshit?” Harry looks back up at Yaxley, crumpling the paper up and throwing it at him. “This some kind of joke?” ‘They know’ what? Harry can truthfully say that he hasn’t an idea of what this could be pertaining to. He’s not an idiot, he would never do something to put his girl’s life at risk. 

“Interesting,” Yaxley circles around him. “The Dark Lord will be absolutely floored when I tell him. Might want to consider paying mummy a visit.”

“Wha-” But before he can get out another word, black smoke fumes into the air as the death eater flies up into broad daylight. He hears a medley of gasps from the main street, his dropping in frustration. 

What doesn’t he know?

***

The next day he makes up an excuse that he has to pop back home for a bit because his mum has come down with freak disease, and Gemma is stuck working overtime at St. Mungo’s. Y/n seems to be understanding, although she does get a bit pouty because she had planned for them to head up to Hampstead Heath this afternoon. He promises her that he’ll be back to get a show of the sunset, and then he’s off. 

He apparates into his childhood bedroom at Styles House, a rush of nostalgia hitting him as he takes a good look around. It’s just as he left it, not a single speck of dust cloaks over any of the surfaces. 

“Master Harry! Tin-Tin is so pleased to welcome Master home!” he turns around at the pop of the house elf. 

“Where’s Mum?” he asks her, patting her head. 

“Mistress is in the den. Would master like Tin-Tin to let mistress know that he’s here?” she smiles widely at him. She’s always been very attentive, and he remembers how he almost set her free when he was younger.

Harry runs out the door and descends down the grand staircase, nearly tripping over his own feet in the rush he’s in. 

“Mum,” he breathes out once he’s stood under the archway. Anne snaps up at him, her eyes growing wide surprise as she covers her mouth with both hands. They stare at each other for what seems like hours. 

It’s Anne that makes the first move, she gathers him in her arms and pulls him in for a tight embrace. She cries softly, and he’s not sure what kind they are. The way she rubs his back tells him she’s happy to have him here, but then there’s something else saturated in each one of her tears. 

“Mum,” he repeats, grasping her shoulders and pulling away far enough to look directly into her eyes. “I need to know if you’re not telling me something.”

Her mouth opens but closes immediately after. She peers behind him as if looking for something. “Where is she?” she questions sternly. He returns the stare. “Come with me.” She takes hold of his wrist and leads him outside through the gardens and towards the cabana that he’s only ever been in a few times in his life. The doors open before them, and close loudly when they’re fully situated in the room. This is where they keep the Styles family tapestry. The faces of its members dating all the way back to the fourteenth century. 

Anne walks further into the room, towards the middle where the most recent generation is located in this intricate web. Her arms are crossed over her chest as she stares at the bottom of their family’s section. Harry follows her eyes, starting from his grandparents, down to his parents, then Gemma and himself, then finally…

***

A/N: Oh goodness, it’s been a while! Thank you all so much for your feedback and support for this series.

What do you think is going to happen next? Tell me here!