#You Should Be Ashamed Seamus

[kickerofelves]

You Should Be Ashamed, Seamus — mclusky

[amorchai]

📁 ₊˚⊹ pining best friend ron x reader. it’s obvious he has feelings but when reader tells him they like him too, he can’t believe it and gets all flustered and shy

𝐑𝐎𝐍 𝐂𝐀𝐍'𝐓 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐇𝐈𝐌.

pairing(s): ron weasley x reader

words: 862

warnings/tags: mutual pining, minor jealousy.

hermione was too busy talking about the upcoming exam in transfiguration to notice how distracted ron was, more than usual. harry, however, was chuckling to himself, adding another pumpkin pastie onto his plate while watching ron.

it was unlike ron to not eat, especially at lunch after a morning full of exam preparation. his fork hovered his plate, unfocused, his ginger hair too long and poking his eyes that remained glued to your figure that stood at the entrance to the great hall.

you were laughing with dean thomas, someone taller and broader than ron, someone who looked more pristine and more groomed at this very moment than ron’s straggled hair and he couldn’t help but feel green.

“what you looking at, ron?” harry mused, interrupting hermione mid-sentence and she follows his gaze towards you and dean catching up. “he’s been talking to y/n for ten minutes now, can you not give her some lunch time to actually eat?”.

“jealous or something, ron?” an irish accent perks up from beside hermione, seamus snickering happily as ron scowls moodily towards his friend. “no, just… worried about y/n’s wellbeing, she should eat, she’s been stressed with exams and things, y’know.”

seamus nudges neville, “no, i don’t know. only you do, all you do is watch y/n i’m surprised she’s not sent an owl begging for a hexclusion order against you yet.”

“come off it, seamus.” ron snaps back, and hermione shushes both their bickering as you bid dean a goodbye and begin walking over to the table. of course, you sit beside ron as you usually do, and seamus and harry exchange a look which doesn’t go past you.

“hello?” you say confused, looking between them both before shaking your head and laughing dismissively. ron goes red when you glance at him and smile before beginning to make up a plate of your own food.

“what was dean saying?” asks ron, glaring at his friends as seamus wriggles his eyebrows and neville chuckles. “what-? oh, he just said he’s worried about his defence against the dark arts exam. so we’re going to study later on together, i could use the extra time for it too.”

ron glances at his plate, his fork pushing the vegetables around his plate, “oh. right.” you notice his frowned mood but decide not to bring it up around the rest of the table, nodding to his plate you reply, “not like you to have a bunch of veg.”

he nods, “well, you said greens help with upcoming exams.” you giggle and ron can’t help but watch your smile as you do so, expression softening despite the teasing eyes of the table, “true, i mostly said that to get you to eat some peas, you don’t eat enough healthy things.”

“nice of you to look after your boyfriend there, y/n,” you both glare at your irish friend, embarrassed. ron looks like he could rip seamus’ head off while you widen your eyes, “seamus,” you say quietly in a knowing tone.

“no, seriously. he could use the help after staring daggers into the back of dean’s head all mornin’,” this time hermione, harry, and neville all scold their friend as he snickers unapologetically.

you furrow your eyebrows, “what do you mean?” ron’s entire freckled face is beet red, embarrassed, angry and ashamed, he leans over the table, slamming his fork down with a closed fist, “i’m going to murder you, seamus.”

“awk, calm down, it’s not like she doesn’t like you back, you idiot.” ron is shocked, glancing at you while you shrink smaller in your place, embarrassed. “i think you forget dean is my best friend, he talks.”

this time ron says, “what do you mean?” but at the same time you respond, “i told him that in confidence.”

the table is silent. everyone watching you both while hermione ushers seamus to stop talking, ‘seriously, you never know when to stop do you?’ and ‘oh, you’re one to talk, miss know-it-all.’

“you like me?” ron asks quietly to you as the others bicker and you look at him with an embarrassed gaze, “yes i do, okay. i wasn’t going to say anything, stupid seamus and dean.”

“you like me?” he repeats with a slightly agape mouth, processing the response in disbelief and he doesn’t think it to be true. it must be some sort of sick prank seamus is pulling, not that you would ever go to such lengths.

you sigh, “course i do, how could i not?” ron is speechless, smiling beneath the tuffs of ginger hair as he looks back down to his plate. harry notices how ashamed you look, and leans forward so he’s within both of your earshot’s, “you not going to tell y/n you like her back?”

ron snaps his head, “yeah, oh yeah! i do. i like you back, i’m sorry. i’m just surprised is all.” you laugh, “that’s okay.” hermione is now ignoring seamus, smiling at you both as you shyly look away from one another, unsure what to do now. “does he need our help asking her on a date?” is heard as you both duck your heads down, “shut up, seamus!”

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[theflikchic]

Probably one of the worst oversights of the HP narrative is that JKR - and the Wizarding World - simply does not care about the half-bloods. We hear of half-blood wizards being ashamed or shamed for their parentage but we never actually see it. The worst we get is them being accused of being Muggle-Borns which, in my opinion, doesn't count because the bigotry focus of the story is still "Pure-Bloods versus Muggle-Borns".

We don't really see how half-bloods are treated at ALL by larger society, only how they feel inwards. And when you look at real life, often internalized hatred like ableism and racism comes FROM the systemic bigotry in our society. But JKR doesn't get into this at all, not with Seamus, not with Voldemort, and ESPECIALLY not with Snape (I theorize she ignores a lot of great worldbuilding chances just to manipulate the reader into hating Snape for the "big reveal" but that's another post).

Because the narrative ignores half-bloods, you get the sense that the world ignores them too. Bellatrix calls Harry a "filthy half-blood" but he's...not. Both of his parents are wizards. It's just that she doesn't consider Lily a wizard which means she's really just slurring Muggle-Borns again.

Really, in the wizarding world AND the narrative, I feel the half-bloods are like asexuals. It always has to be gay vs straight. The asexuals aren't gay enough and they aren't straight enough, so neither side really gets or accepts them fully. And I don't think JKR saw much differently in regards to the half-bloods which leads to...well...bad writing.

When Hagrid talks about the Chamber, who is it about? Pure-bloods vs Muggle-borns. It's not even CONSIDERED in the narrative how the half-blood children could be perceived. And even as a KID, I was like "So Slytherin only thought "pure" kids should learn at Hogwarts? What's gonna happen to Seamus then? Is he in danger too?" This is never answered.

And when we ALMOST get a taste of half-blood bigotry in Order, it's ALL about people who are half-"beast" (in quotations, ofc). "Half-breed" is a slur. And it made me go, even as a KID, "this would be the PERFECT time to get down and dirty with how half-bloods are treated". But it doesn't. Bc JKR, at this point, a) wants no sympathy for Seamus b) wants no sympathy for Voldemort c) wants no sympathy for Snape and d) doesn't want to reveal Snape's blood heritage - even though he would be a prime target for Umbridge (she targets him for other reasons, another post and a good scene). JKR forsakes good character work in favour of manipulating the reader and it results in bad worldbuilding.

All of the half-blood struggles come from inside and for comedy. The narrative keeps SUGGESTING that they MIGHT be oppressed but just does not go any deeper (ignoring people's identity for yourself is a form of oppression, I think). When Mrs Cattermole begs that she's half-blood, it's because she knows this will save her. But how? Is she still not part less-than-human to wizards? And since Muggles are really referred to and seen AS such, why would the "half-breed" bigotry not extend to half-bloods?

When Snape is revealed to be the Prince, the narrative - at the time because of the Big Reveal - frames it as Snape being bigoted and proud of wizardry because "blood purity" rather than EVER raising the scenario - even AFTER the Big Reveal - that he is rebelling against oppression in his own blood-purity crazy house. It's implied but never gone into. And she could have dove into it! She could have had Snape and Seamus experience microaggressions but Snape's could have been concealed as classist or bitter aggressions from his Death Eater days (like what Umbridge does). Seamus could have been genuinely worried about the Chamber. We could have had Voldemort - in memories - experience blood bigotry and used it to critique how the world created him rather than simply "he born evil" (I suspect bc JKR is not actually interested in critiquing HER world but things since past, again another post).

It's inferred but never dived into The half-bloods seem to belong everywhere and nowhere. And it's all based on how JKR wants us to feel, not based on what will make sense for the characters or the worldbuilding. And the characters, who are genuinely enjoyable and engaging except for...maybe Voldemort, could have been even better and instead - they suffer for it.

Who cares for the half-bloods? I do.

[heichouux]

The Dragon and the Hare, Draco and Luna with their Patronuses.

More Draco/Luna fanart because I’m just obsessed. I'm thinking of naming the fic: The Dragon and the Hare

I don't have a blurb for it yet, so in the meantime, eat up these prompts from the fic:

soft top Luna and a slightly possessive (just enough not to be toxic) Draco <3

Seventh and Sixth Year students who fought in the Battle of Hogwarts were exempt from returning to Hogwarts and graduated automatically. However, if they wanted to return to complete/redo their final year, they could.

Draco, Luna, Hermione, Ginny, Dean and Neville all returned to complete their final year.

Draco's the only Slytherin from his year who returned

Luna Lovegood has changed and she will bite back.

Draco Malfoy redemption arc, (our boy is tired but that doesn't mean he needs to stop being sarcastic)

Hermione is a single pringle girl boss with nightmares (slight Ron bashing?)

Neville is just tryna get by

Dean is not ashamed of the hardcore smut letters Seamus sends him

Ginny is a BAMF

Found family

Forgiveness takes time, but he's willing to wait if it means he wouldn't have to be alone anymore (Draco and his abandonment issues)

The gang sit in their little corner of the party, chatting amongst themselves instead of socialising because why not

People are mean to Draco, but Luna defends him

Draco and self-hatred are best mates

'I'll break your wrists if you touch her'

'She's too good for you, Draco'

'You should be careful around him, Luna'

Mutual pining !!!

Unresolved (resolved) sexual tension

Walk him like a dog sis, walk him like a dog

Draco Malfoy discovers he really likes to cuddle

They just want a year of peace ffs, but of course, they don’t get it (PTSD, anxiety, trauma, nightmares, hurt/comfort, a crap ton of crying)

That one scene from First Daughter (2004) where she’s drunk and stripping at a bar and he gets jealous and carries her away

[slitherpuffinstories]

Deamus microfic feat. Florean Fortescue x August Ollivander ~ Obvious

Seamus didn’t dare to look up. He couldn’t. And his mother’s voice only grew louder and louder.

“- I will not tolerate such sick behaviour, and here of our places, in Diagon Alley! You should be ashamed of yourself, my good sir. There are kids here, and you exposing them all to such disgusting acts- it’s a violation! I can’t believe-“

And so it went, on and on, and for every time her voice grew louder, Seamus’s face grew redder and his posture more slouched as he tried desperately to make himself as small as possible. He clutched his ice-cream tighter in his hand.

Every word she said hurt as if they were spoken directly to him. And in a way, maybe they were. They were directed to people like him, and it hurt.

“We didn’t do anything wrong”, came the sharp response when his mother finally took a break in her lecturing to breathe. Seamus looked up at the older man in the ice-cream shop. He looked furious, his dark eyebrows knitted together under a swoop of black hair.

���Yeah”, another voice chimed in, and Seamus heard the other man’s scoff before he saw him reappear from behind Fortescue, the owner of the shop who apparently had a boyfriend. Said boyfriend was looking just as furious as Fortescue, a stark contrast to how he had looked only minutes before.

When the two men, unaware of the danger, had kissed so everyone in the shop could see. Right when Seamus and his family were about to leave the shop.

Kissed. Just like that. Apparently you could do that? Not in front of Seamus’s mother, though, which these two had learnt the hard way.

“I don’t see what the problem is. Why would you have issues with me kissing my boyfriend?” Fortescue’s boyfriend, a very tall man with striking, multicoloured eyes and elegantly styled blond hair, was staring at Seamus’s mother with a new intensity.

“You and your partner can kiss as much as you wish. End up in Hell where you belong, I don’t care!” His mother’s face grew redder for every word she spat. “But don’t you dare do it in front of my son and ruin him!”

“Oh. I see.” The blond man raised a sharp eyebrow and shook his head, slowly, looking as if he was genuinely sorry for the woman in front of him. “You’re one of those… religious people?”

“Yes.” She straightened her back, looking proud of herself as she put a firm hand on Seamus’s shoulder. He couldn’t stop himself from shuddering slightly. Fortescue’s gaze sharpened, and Seamus froze. Had the man noticed his uneasiness?

“Hm. Best we leave you and your son alone then.” Fortescue turned around to give his boyfriend another small peck on the lips. “Don’t you think so too, Gus?”

Seamus felt his mother’s grip tighten on his shoulder.

“How dare you?”, she spluttered furiously, and Seamus flinched as she turned around and tried to block his view of the two men. “That is nothing but disrespectful!”

“Oi!” The blond man stopped smiling instantly. “Watch it with your son! Can’t you see he’s uncomfortable by you making a scene?”

“Don’t you tell me how to behave around my own son!” She pointed a finger at his chest. “He’s uncomfortable seeing you two being inappropriate in public! Isn’t that right, sweetie?”

Seamus tried to hide how terrified he was. He took a deep breath.

“I don’t mind, mum.”

There was silence. Fortescue smiled at him.

“He’s- he’s being ridiculous”, was all his mother could manage at first. When she inhaled loudly to keep yelling, Seamus spoke up again.

“I said, I don’t mind, mother.”

“Sea, darling, I know you’re shaken-“

“Stop it!” His words made his mother shut up, only for a moment, but that was all he needed. “I’m tired of you speaking about gay people like that! Leave them alone, mom. They did nothing to you. I did nothing to you!”

“Excuse me.” Another voice cut through the silence after Seamus was done shouting. “I didn’t expect meeting you here. And certainly not like this.”

“Oh my- Diana!” Seamus saw his mother turn around and lift her hands to her chest. “What a pleasant surprise!”

“Wish I could say the same.” His mother’s old friend, Diana Thomas, was standing behind them. She looked absolutely furious, but Seamus paid no attention to her as soon as he saw who was standing next to her.

“Dean.” His voice was a bit hoarse after yelling so much.

“Sea…” Oh, his voice was still soft as ever. Before he knew what he was doing, Seamus was standing next to his friend, holding his head low again. Dean put an arm wound his shoulders, and as their mothers continued a heated discussion, Dean whispered in his ear:

“Are you okay?”

No, no he wasn’t. But maybe he would be.

“I’m sorry, Dean.” Seamus swallowed. “When she’s talking like that about… about gay people, I know she’s talking about you too. Even though you like girls as well as boys. It’s kind of the same thing.”

“It’s worse for you”, Dean whispered, his breath on Seamus’s neck. “She’s talking about you too, isn’t she? Bet she doesn’t know though.”

Seamus’s head snapped up. He didn’t know what to say, so all he did was put his arms around Dean and bury his face in his friend’s shoulder.

“How- how did you…” The words came out before he could even think about what to say. “How did you know? I didn’t tell you. I was scared, Dean, I was scared, I couldn’t tell you and I’m sorry because out of all people I know you’d be understanding-“

“Shut up, arsehole.” Dean chuckled lightly, still with his mouth next to Seamus’s ear. “I’ve known for a while. It was quite obvious. Why didn’t you tell me your mom was homophobic?”

“My dad too.” Seamus swallowed again.

“Should probably have guessed this, considering they’re both Christian. Oh Merlin.”

“I don’t want to go back home.”

“You won’t.”

And he didn’t. Because minutes later, Mrs Finnigan had left the ice-cream shop, still fuming after being told off by both the owner of the shop and her best friend for scaring her own child like that.

“Hey, kiddo.” The blond man who Fortescue had called Gus put a hand on Seamus’s shoulder a few minutes later. “I took your ice-cream from you when you were busy with your… friend over here. It was melting, so I got you a new one. Or, Florean did.” He handed over a new ice-cream to Seamus, and one for Dean too. “It’s on the house.”

“I’m sorry for what my mom said.”

“Don’t be, kiddo.” The man smiled at him. “She doesn’t understand love the way I, Florean and you do.”

Seamus gaped.

“And me”, Dean said, sounding slightly offended.

“Yeah, kiddo number two, I figured.” The man chuckled. “I counted you both into that “we”. People like us come in packages of two, if we’re lucky enough.”

Seamus frowned, slightly confused. Dean rolled his eyes at the look on his best friend’s face.

“Even luckier if we both live in the same house, which we’ll do from now on!” Dean laughed. “You hear that, Sea? We’ll live together all year now! We’ll have to get another bed to my room, or, or I can sleep on a mattress. Mum, can I sleep on a mattress?”

“Not so fast, young man.” Mrs Thomas looked at him with her arms crossed. “No boys in your room, especially not behind closed doors.”

“Mum!”

While Dean and his mum discussed, Fortescue, or Florean as his boyfriend had called him, came to join Seamus and Gus. He winked at Seamus.

“He likes you back, kid”, he said, as if he knew exactly how confused Seamus was. Wait, was he that obvious?

Wait, what had the man even said to him?

“He… what?” Seamus felt his cheeks turn red.

Both men chuckled.

“You’re both welcome back to our shop for free ice-cream any time, isn’t that right, August?” Florean leaned closer and whispered: “Don’t kiss too much, though. Not in public. It’s gross.”

Seamus nodded silently, still flushed. He looked over at Dean, and Dean looked back at him with a wide smile. His dimples showed, like they only did when he was really happy, and his eyes sparkled in a way that made Seamus’s brain go fuzzy.

“Eat your ice-cream now, kiddo, and stop staring. It’s very obvious.”

Seamus didn’t know if he should thank the man or slap him, but to be honest, slapping a complete stranger who just offered you free ice-cream whenever you wished to have it didn’t seem like a very good idea.

[gracilissart]

There's almost always those scars on Seamus' arms, and how did he got them from?

oh man I didn't think anybody would actually ask I just assumed people would see and know

to put things shortly; in Seamus' younger years, he already was very deeply troubled, and with no outlet to channel his suffering, there was a time where he turned to self harm and attempted at taking his own life a multitude of times. he would sometimes fantasise about mutilating himself severely too, but circumstances never really allowed him to pull through with that.

he stopped after the death of his sister, instead seeking out other people to fill her place and hurt him rather than hurting himself. as a human he kept the self harm scars hidden, not necessarily out of shame but because he knew they would raise questions he couldn't bring himself to answer. nowadays he feels there is no reason to hide them anymore, so he just shows them out in the open.

I ultimately draw them all because they simply are a part of him, just as the scars would be a part of someone who has had a history of self harm. they shouldn't be something one is ashamed of, nor should they be censored, or God forbid it tw'd (unless open wounds are depicted).

I realise it probably wasn't as obvious as I thought it would be, so I hope this answers your question! thank you for asking!!

[sinceileftyoublog]

Mclusky's Good Intentions

Mclusky's Andy "Falco" Falkous

BY JORDAN MAINZER

"Fuck This Band". It's the name of the song Andy "Falco" Falkous and Mclusky have been opening their sets with on their triumphant return to many North American cities, including Chicago last Friday at the Vic. It's an effective calm before the storm of noise and chaos that inevitably enraptures the moshing crowd. And it's an appropriate sentiment, tongue-in-cheek and self-deprecating, referential to the very loud ruckus that presumably caused the initial postponement of these tour dates to begin with. A Molotov cocktail of aural health issues forced Falkous to make fans wait a little bit longer to celebrate 20 years of Mclusky Do Dallas. It was immediately apparent from the opening chords of "Dethink to Survive" that our patience paid off: Falkous and drummer Jack Egglestone donning protective headphones, the band launched into a burst of razor wire guitars and pummeling percussion, and never stopped.

From left to right: Mclusky's Damien Sayell, Jack Egglestone, Falkous

Sayell, Egglestone, & Falkous

The post-hardcore band's influence is wide-reaching. You can hear Falkous' everyman sprechgesang in the cubicle shouts of Pissed Jeans' Matt Korvette, his frantic non-sequiturs in the nervy yelp rock of Squid, both of whom were featured on the house playlist before Mclusky took the stage. But the band continues to be good at its own game, too. Last year, they shared their first new material in 19 years, and they played two of those released songs on Friday, sounding like 2002 just as much as 2023. "Two minutes and forty five seconds is the optimum length of a rock and roll song," Falkous declared, after letting the audience know it was okay not to pretend they like new songs. But "Unpopular Parts of a Pig" is a trademark Mclusky tune, alternating between deceptively melodic shouts and droning chants, plus a loud-quiet-loud dynamic and sardonic lyrics chiding useless platitudes. Thematically and instrumentally, it nestled perfectly between the ugly guitar distortion and Damien Sayell's meaty bass on "Day of the Deadringers", and crowd favorite "Lightsabre Cocksucking Blues". Meanwhile, the blown-out bass of "The Digger You Deep" and unreleased barnburner "Et Tu, Edwards?" gave the crowd a chance to let loose between "She Will Only Bring You Happiness" and "You Should Be Ashamed, Seamus", two The Difference Between You and Me Is That I'm Not on Fire songs that satirize the tortured artist and toxic masculinity.

Sayell, Egglestone, & Falkous

Really, though, to a certain generation of Mclusky fans, Friday first and foremost represented an event we thought would never come. To hear Falkous' introductory chirping on "Without MSG I Am Nothing", Egglestone's brawny thuds on "Chases", and the shout-alongs of "To Hell With Good Intentions" and "Alan Is a Cowboy Killer" was a thrilling exercise in nostalgia for some and disbelief for others. Towards the end of the set, Falkous took the time to thank everyone involved in the show, even those he had met just that night, an act of working class solidarity before his effortless bout of sarcasm: "This cavalcade of sincerity must end soon." Given Falkous' ability to lighten the mood through his well-intentioned derision, it's easy to see why Mclusky continues to be great today.

Falkous

Sayell

[racfoam]

I wrote more for 6th year NYNN. This snippet is definitely just a draft, but it could be a spoiler for 5th year as well depending what I decide to do. I don't think I’ll do that event mentioned here mostly because of Harry's age...

Also, there is some vulgar language in these paragraphs. It's the argument scene Ron has with Ginny in a corridor in 6th year, except here it isn't about Ginny kissing Dean in public but Luna.

SPOILERS

SPOILERS

SPOILERS

“And Harry snogged You-Know-Who in the Atrium —”

Oh... yeah... Harry remembered, as though recollecting a distant dream, feeling her heart flutter at the memory. I did do that, huh…

Harry felt something inside her flourish. Little fireworks started in her chest, and she had to turn her head to hide a giddy, happy grin.

Hell yeah, Harry did, pride swelling in her chest. And she'd do it again.

“Eugh!” Ron blanched in disgust. “She did that to distract him, that isn't the same! Right, Harry?”

Harry jolted, pulled out of the memories of Voldemort's arm around her waist and his other cradling her neck.

“Er… yeah…” Harry said unconvincingly, distracted.

Ginny gave Harry a look that told Harry she saw right through her, while Ron shouted, completely oblivious, “See!”

Harry didn’t say anything as the argument got more heated, thinking back on the kiss, losing herself in the memory, shivering with heat by the memory of the sensation of Voldemort’s mouth pressed against her own.

“Man up, tell Hermione you're gonna kiss her, wait for her to give you the go-ahead signal, then snog the daylights out of her!” Ginny shrieked. “It's what You-Know-Who did with Harry, it's what Dean did with Seamus and it's what I did and will continue to do with Luna! Stop being a pussy and taking out your frustrations on other people who went and did something about it!”

Ron was muted, his ears red.

“The fact even You-Know-Who can gather the courage to snog Harry and you can’t gather the courage to snog Hermione… You should feel ashamed of yourself!”

By now, Ron’s jaw was pasted to the floor, staring at his sister in shock. Not saying another word, Ginny marched out, so angry Harry would not be surprised if the girl left ashes of fire in her wake.

[startanewdream]

“His sister didn’t really try,” said McLaggen menacingly. “She gave him an easy save.”

“Rubbish,” said Harry coldly. “That was the one he nearly missed."

Or they were both right. (1k, HBP missing moment, Ron and Ginny being siblings here)

The ball went through the first of the three loops they had improvised in the orchard. Ginny allowed herself another triumphant grin. “That’s the fifth goal in a row!”

Ron’s face was dangerously red when he came back from retrieving the ball, but he didn’t say anything. Ginny moved back to her position, about twenty feet distant from the goals, following the point Harry had marked on the ground. She ran three steps then threw the ball; as in the other five times, Ron jumped to the wrong loop, and she scored another goal.

“Sixth!”

“Oh, shut up.” He grabbed their improvised quaffle and sat on the ground. “This is stupid—it’s not really Quidditch.”

“There is a ball and there is a goal. If you can’t save it on the ground, you’re not going to be better in the air.”

“It’s different!”

“How so?”

“You will be flying also, duh.”

“Except I fly so much better than you, so that’s not a vantage for you.”

Ron’s eyes narrowed at the same proportion his face got scarlet. “Why are you so mean? Oh, sorry, I meant meaner than usual.”

Ginny narrowed her eyes, annoyingly aware that this made her look like Ron, one of those few times where no one could deny they were siblings.

“Perhaps if you concentrated more on Quidditch and less on my love life, you would be a better player.”

“I don’t care about your love life.”

“Then how do Fred and George know that I’m dating Dean? Because I didn’t tell them.”

To his credit, Ron looked a bit ashamed, his expression softening a little. “I was just expressing concern, that’s it. You can’t blame a guy for worrying about his younger sister’s life.”

“I am your only sister,” she replied coolly. “And as said sister, yes, I can blame this guy. What’s your problem with Dean?”

“It is not—Dean is okay-ish—look, you just have to dislike the guy who is dating your sister. It’s a principle. You should know it.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

Now there was a smirk on Ron’s face. “You and Fleur are already braiding each other’s hair, are you? Discussing the flowers for the wedding?”

She reached for her wand, only to lament the fact she’d left it inside the house.

“It’s not the same,” insisted Ginny. “I didn’t even know Fleur before she burst into the house as if she owned it!”

“Oh, right.” Ron crossed his arms, clearly at upper-hand here. “Tell me you wouldn’t hate anyone that Bill — favourite brother Bill, don’t deny it — would date.”

“I wouldn’t,” said Ginny at once, though lacking a bit of confidence this time. Bill wasn’t her favourite brother because a girl shouldn’t have a favourite sibling, only… Bill was Bill. She expected more of him than… Fleur. “I just think he is rushing things here.”

“So you breaking up with your boyfriend and soon after dating another guy—that is not rushed?”

“How long?"

"How long do tou think I've been friends with Dean before we started dating?"

"Ah... three weeks?"

“Three years. I was friends with him before I even dated Michael.”

His eyes widened. “Friends? I never saw it!”

“It’s not my fault you were too busy with other things to realise I have friends. Or that I can play Quidditch better than you.”

“Hey, hey, don’t get mean again.” Ron bit his lips, thoughtful. “Were you really friends?”

“Have you ever talked to Dean and Seamus? And I don’t mean only because you are aggravated with Harry or something stupid as this—I mean really enjoyed their company?” He shook his head. “Well, they are really fun. A lot of dirty jokes also, they give Charlie a run for his money.”

“Hum—I’ve heard a few…”

“Nice. The thing is, you, Hermione and Harry are so busy with your own drama that you forget that while you three are conspiring to defeat the dark villain of the year, other people are having a life of their own.”

“You were glad to join us last June.”

“Of course I was! Just because I don’t do it regularly, it doesn’t mean I don’t care about this war.” Ginny looked away, suddenly embarrassed. “I know what You-Know-Who can do to someone.”

There was a moment of silence, then Ron patted her shoulder. The gesture seemed to make him as uncomfortable as it made Ginny, but she appreciated all the same.

“Dean is a nice guy,” she said, her voice calmer now. “Don’t be a jerk to him.”

Ron seemed to debate the matter with himself for a moment, but then he nodded. “I won’t say anything,” he promised. “Not even to Bill.”

“I don’t think he would care at the moment,” she admitted, throwing an annoyed glance towards the house; Fleur had arrived with Bill for lunch and had stayed, the main reason why Ginny had agreed to Ron’s suggestion of a practice that afternoon, no matter how hot the day was.

“Don’t be silly.” Ron sounded amused. “You are still Bill’s favourite sister.”

“I’m his only sister, prat.”

“He only got one of those, exactly. There are other quarter-Veelas in the world. Somewhere.”

It wasn’t exactly a compliment, but she could find some comfort in Ron’s words.

“I guess,” she said, trying to sound nonchalant. It didn’t seem to fool Ron, so she just grabbed the ball on the ground and resumed her position. “Go on.”

“Aren’t we past humiliating me? I can’t save it, there, I’ve said it.”

“You should have added that I’m a brilliant chaser,” Ginny said unashamedly. “And because I’m also a brilliant sister, I’ll give you a hint. Stop looking at me.”

“What? How is that a hint?”

“Look at the ball. It's the ball you need to stop,  not me. You already stay at a right distance from the posts to reduce my angle, you already face my direction–you are only missing the goals because I keep misguiding you where I am throwing it."

"So I ignore you and focus on the ball?"

"Don't ignore me, I didn’t say it–are you listening to me?"

"You are one that’s saying rubbish–of course I am looking at the ball!"

"If you were then you'd save something, wouldn’t you?" She threw the ball on the ground, letting it bounce away. "Don't be mad when the other teams score because you can't take advice from your little sister!"

"That has nothing to do with you being my sister!"

"Oh, right, because if Hermione had said it, you would have listened to it!"

"Hermione doesn’t understand Quidditch."

"Harry, then."

"He is the captain this year, and he's youngest–"

"Seeker, exactly! While I am a Chaser, and a Seeker in my spare time. But do what you want, I don’t care."

"Ugh, you are impossible." Ron shook his head; Ginny crossed her arms and neither moved for a few minutes.

Then there was a laugh coming from the house and she saw the door opening; Fleur's silver hair was glistening under the sun.

She sighed.

"Do you wanna play Exploding Snap in the living room?" She asked. "We can wake up Harry, he has napped enough already."

Ron smiled. "Let’s go, I bet Hermione is back already. She gets all flustered when the cards blow up in her turn."

"You know, there are other ways to get Hermione flustered, if that’s your goal."

"What are you talking about?"

Ginny smiled to herself. "Never mind."

[lxngbottom]

Can we get a part 2 to pretty flower? my soul depends on it

Pretty Flower | N.L. (Part 2)

in which neville finds himself being absolutely attached to the reader after their time together.

warnings: nsfw, light clit play, mentions of sex, but nev being adorable

my soul depends on this too don’t worry

—

ever since that night with neville, everything seemed to be blurring together and changing for you. it had only been a couple of weeks, and you made no attempt to even speak to him. you were so embarrassed at what happened, and even more ashamed at the fact that you enjoyed it. after neville pleaded with you to stay, you just walked out on him, giving him no rhyme or reason.

after everything, neville felt so guilty. did he over step? oh god... what if you didn’t really want that to happen? what if he was too invasive? he wasn’t too sure, but it made him burn with sadness every time he saw you, hiding your face from him in the halls.

you definitely weren’t angry with him, you just were too shy. you felt like you had committed some sort of unforgivable act.

when you told ginny, she almost flipped the whole table over in the great hall. she wasn’t shocked at the fact that it had happened, as she assumed that neville had always fancied you, but all at the same time... you had actually agreed to it. you were no longer “innocent”. and that on its own was what got to ginny. maybe the ginger was just... baffled?

“down there?” hermione asked, skimming the row of seats in the quidditch pitch. you nodded you head as people filled in the rows.

you were at a quidditch game, more than ready to support ginny in her first real match of the year. hermione and luna had escorted you, as you were terrified to get in trouble for not sitting in your house placement. when you admitted that fact, hermione just giggled and said, “and they say i’m afraid to break the rules...”

as you three settled into the stands, you saw a familiar figure walking in your direction. your body tensed, and you quickly turned your head hoping that he wouldn’t notice you.

but of course, he did notice you. he always noticed you.

“you guys saving these seats for anyone else?” neville asked politely. hermione shook her head, and he adjusted his scarf as he glanced over at you, just simply waiting for you to look back. but unfortunately, you couldn’t.

you were too ashamed.

—

the quidditch match had gone great. gryffindor had taken a victory, and for some god awful reason, you had agreed to let hermione to sneak you into the gryffindor common room to celebrate.

unusual things had happened as people cheered ron on, including lavendar brown practically forcing her tongue down the ginger’s throat. this elicited a terrible reaction from hermione, and you watched as she exited the common room with teary eyes, harry following behind her. you wanted to go check on her, but honestly, you knew that harry could probably make her feel better than you could. after all, you weren’t great with handling people’s emotions.

for merlin’s sake, you couldn’t even figure out your own emotions.

here you were now, awkwardly standing in the front as students cheered lavendar and ron on for snogging. luckily, they exited soon, probably trying to find some privacy you assumed.

you knew how that went.

you gulped as the whole time you could feel neville’s lingering presence beside you, and you could hear the sound of his voice every time seamus spoke a word to him beside you.

“want me to make you feel good with my fingers?”

“wanna taste yourself, doll? you taste so good...”

“i can’t wait to ruin you, bunny...”

the statements came back in flashbacks every single time you heard his voice. it made your hands shake, and your thighs press together.

“y/n?”

the voice snapped you back to reality, and you looked over to see seamus with furrowed eyebrows looking over at you,

“are you alright?”

you nodded your head awkwardly, feeling neville’s chest slightly pressing up against your back from how packed it was in the common room at the moment.

“yes... um—sorry... what did you say?”

oh god. this was so embarrassing.

“i asked if you placed your bet on weasley, today... if you didn’t, you’re probably regretting that now, huh?” he teased, shooting a playful grin your way. you laughed awkwardly, as you could still feel neville right behind you.

then, you heard dean and ginny called seamus’s name, and he shot them a questioning look.

“oi! leave y/n alone, finnigan!” ginny demanded, walking over towards you, “dean needs a word with you, seamus...”

he rolled his eyes and walked over to his best friend, and patted your shoulder as she returned to the boys.

you were now alone again, and people started to spread out in the common room, chatter of triumph still occurring. but, that feeling behind you still hadn’t faded.

“meet me in my dorm...” you heard in your ear, and you jumped slightly from the voice. he sounded so... angelic. “bunny...”

your thighs clenched from the nickname, and the fact that you could feel neville’s breath against your neck. but you didn’t dare to look back, even when his finger grazed the back of your thigh slightly. and suddenly, he was gone.

for a moment, you panicked thinking about what you should do. you still felt utterly embarrassed due to what happened just a couple weeks prior, but, you couldn’t ignore that familiar fluttery sensation in your stomach as you thought about it.

fuck it.

you waited for a few minutes before walking away, and ginny shot you a wink as you went towards the boy’s dormitory.

“just stay calm... it’s fine—it’s just neville...” you kept telling yourself as you walked up the stairs, also hoping that no one was following you.

the trip to the dorm was unfortunately much shorter than you hoped it would be, and you trembled as you knocked on the door. neville opened it automatically, grabbing your arm and pulling you inside. you yelped at this, and he slammed the door behind you. he let go of you, and you awkwardly stood in the middle of the room.

he loomed over your figure as he approached slowly, looking you up and down.

“hi, petal...” he whispered, sending a shock through your spine,

“hi...” you replied shyly, gulping a bit. he couldn’t help but smile hearing your fragile voice again, as he had missed the simple sound of it these past two weeks.

he noticed your nervousness, and let his fingertip graze across your cheek in an attempt to soothe you, “i’ve missed you...” he cooed, “you left with no reason, darling. i’ve been worried. you haven’t spoken to me, either...”

you felt guilty at his words, but even more guilty for the reasoning.

“s-s-sorry...” you stuttered out, already knowing that he was about to ask you why, “e-embarrassed...”

embarrassed? why?

“why are you embarrassed, love?”

you didn’t know if you should exactly tell him, but you knew he deserved some sort of explanation. you could tell that he was pleading for one just by the look in his eyes.

“what—what we did...”

he frowned a bit at your reply,

“why is that embarrassing?”

you shrugged your shoulders, honestly not understanding the shame.

“it—it was bad...” you muttered, but noticed the shift in neville’s facial features, “not—not bad like that... just—i—well... i don’t know...”

he couldn’t help but to let out a small chuckle from you innocence, as it was somehow still in tact.

“well... is there anything i could do to make you feel less embarrassed? cause—there’s no reason to be, petal. you did—amazing.” he paused before he continued, letting his hand trail down your hip, rubbing small circles into it. “there’s nothing to be ashamed of, petal.”

you looked up at him finally, your sparkling, shy eyes burning into his. your cheeks were on fire from his touch, and you knew that he knew that he had an affect on him.

“i-i-i’m sorry... i’ve just been scared to—bring it up, i suppose. d-d-don’t want to—embarrass you in front of your friends...”

neville didn’t even respond, he simply placed a small kiss on your forehead, and he sent you a small smile.

“you could never do that, petal... you’re too sweet.”

his words made you somehow blush even more, and it was getting to the point where you broke out in a sweat from how heated you were.

“but... i couldn’t help but notice that you were clenching those pretty little thighs of yours together in the common room, earlier...” now, his eyes were dark once more, that sweet boy gone within an instant, “what were you thinking about, bunny?” that’s when those same fingers that rested on your hips came trailing down, and were going up your skirt, making your breath hitch.

“y-y-you...” you responded sheepishly, only wanting to be honest with him. he chuckled, and finally, he pressed his finger up against your clothed bundle of nerves.

you gasped as he did so, “bunny... you’re soaked... how long have you been like this?” he asked teasingly, but the tone in his voice came off as if he was just pitying you.

“i-i’ve been thinking about—you... a lot... ever since—you know...” he hummed in response, letting you know that he wanted you to keep speaking, “i—i tried to—t-t-touch myself the other day... but—i don’t know. it felt... weird...”

even after everything, you were still so innocent. it drove neville absolutely mad.

“petal... you should’ve just came to me. you know i’ll take care of you.” he stated with a smirk etched across his face. his fingers kept rubbing small circles into your panties, making your breath turn shaky and uneven. “do you know how much i’ve missed you?”

you whimpered as moved your panties aside, and ran his finger through your slit,

“please...”

“please what, bunny?”

you were tired of the teasing. you had missed him so fucking much, and you just wanted him to make you feel good again. plus, you simply missed just being around him.

“touch me again. please.”

he kissed your lips softly, but still only continued to tease your pussy with his fingers.

“be patient, petal. i want you to be mine before i make you feel good again...” he admitted, stroking your cheek with his free hand. “would you want that?”

you looked up at him, and could see the pure honestly and adoration in his green eyes. you had never had a boyfriend before, but you didn’t even have to give it a second thought before you nodded your head.

he sent you a genuine smile,

“good. now you’re mine and i can make you feel good whenever you want...”

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Day 82: Rum and Episkey

"Ouch," Harry gasped. "Ouch, ouch, ouch! Draco fucking stop!"

Draco ignored him (and the way Harry's pain made his gut twist uncomfortably) "I know," he said, glancing up at his auror partner from the large gash on his thigh. "I know it hurts," he repeated.

"Just cast a bloody episkey," Harry hissed at him as Draco tied off the fabric around his thigh.

Draco rolled his eyes, "I can't. You know I can't," he added. "We're in a warehouse that is full of things that are highly sensitive to magic. We can't use magic, hence the knife wound in the first place."

"Then let's get out of here," Harry said.

"We cant." he repeated. "Harry, pain is making you stupid." Then he amended, "Well even more stupid than usual."

"Oh good, let's add insult to injury," Harry grumbled.

Draco rolled his eyes, "You're fine. Or at least you will be."

"It's just a flesh wound," Harry grumbled in that particular tone that indicated that he was quoting something from muggle culture that Draco wouldn't understand. Harry sighed, "Still bloody hurts."

He looked around them, eyes lighting on the cases until he found one that would serve his purpose. Pulling it down off the shelf he opened the case and pulled out a bottle of rum. "Here," he said.

"What am I supposed to do with this?"

Draco rolled his eyes, "what do you normally do with rum? You should drink it, you nitwit."

(Read more below the cut)

Harry grumbled under his breath but opened the bottle and swallowed some down. "Errg," he groaned with a shudder, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.

"It can't be that bad," he laughed.

Harry held it out, "you try it, then."

He shook his head, "one of us needs to stay sober for when the next group comes through. We need to capture a member of the ring so we can take them down."

With a grimace he took another sip but he winced a little less afterward. "I suppose there isn't much to do except wait."

"Just relax," Draco said, giving in to the impulse to brush one of Harry's wayward curls back off his face.

His eyes drifted shut at the touch and for just a moment, Draco let himself imagine that the other man might feel the same.

----------

No one showed up for a few more hours, during which time Harry drank and Draco watched him, changing out the bandage once when he started bleeding through it. The more he drank the chattier he got and Draco found himself laughing with Harry as he told ridiculous stories about his godchildren, about trouble he'd gotten up to before he and Draco were partners, and everything else under the sun.

Somehow, Harry had collapsed over so his head was in Draco's lap and coaxed Draco's fingers into his curls while they waited.

"Draco?" he slurred.

"Yes?"

Harry rolled a bit so he was looking up at him, blinking up at him like he was the sun. "You," he started with a sigh, "You are really something."

He laughed, "What does that mean?"

"Just," he huffed, scrunching up his nose, "you-" he started before there was a crash a short way away and Draco was jumping to his feet, Harry narrowly catching himself in time to avoid cracking his head on the concrete floor.

"Hold that thought," Draco murmured, slipping away from Harry and making his way toward the sounds, hoping that there was only one of them.

He held the potion vial in his hands preparing to open the cork and knock out the person they were there to capture. Just as he was getting ready to do so, a set of arms grabbed him from behind, attempting to choke him.

Draco started to struggle, but there was a loud thunk and the grip around his neck slackened as the man fell to the floor.

"Open the vial," Harry shouted as the second man barreled toward him.

He pulled the cork and the man dropped like a stone.

Harry sank to the floor, taking the weight off his leg, "Do you have the portkey?" he asked.

Draco nodded, "Grab that one and I'll hold onto this one."

Harry grasped the man's arm and then reached out to hold the metal platter they'd been given, Draco did the same and then initiated the portkey.

He dropped the man on the floor as soon as they landed and pulled his wand, "Episkey," he breathed, healing Harry's wound.

"Thanks," Harry said, grinning at him.

"What were you going to say?" he asked, searching Harry's eyes.

"Potter, Malfoy!" Robbards called, distracting them once more, "Good work. Report," he said and Draco cast a quick sobriety charm at Harry.

He supposed that the rest of the talk would just have to wait. Again.

---------

As they made their way out, after interrogations and reports, Harry slowed down at the door.

"Did you forget something?" Draco asked.

The corner of his mouth tipped up, "My bravery, mostly."

"What?"

Harry looked down, watching as his toe scuffed across the pavement, "It seems like I can always be brave except when it comes to you."

"Why would you need to be brave when it comes to me?" he asked, heart thudding against his rib cage.

"Because you are," he shook his head, "Godric Draco, you're everything. You're brilliant, and gorgeous, and funny, and you've got a heart the size of Hogwarts. I feel like you're the sun and I'm just this little planet being dragged in your wake."

"I'm the sun?" Draco spluttered. "Harry you suck up all the air in every room! I can't take my eyes off of you-"

Harry leaned forward and pressed his lips to Draco's, right there on the sidewalk outside of the Ministry, like he wasn't even remotely ashamed of being seen with Draco.

"Sorry," Harry murmured when he pulled back, "I just couldn't resist."

Draco grabbed him by the lapels and pulled him in once more, kissing him again until someone pointedly cleared their throat on the way out of the door.

They snapped away from each other to see Ron standing there with his hands on his hips. "Really?" he asked.

Both Harry and Draco opened their mouths to reply but Ron continued over them.

"You couldn't have done it on a case?" he asked. "That's what I had down in the poll. I think Seamus is gonna win now," he complained. "This just doesn't seem like the most romantic or appropriate place for it-"

Harry laughed and clapped Ron on the shoulder. "Sorry. If you'd told me maybe we could have helped you."

Ron shook his head, "Well, congratulations anyway." He grinned at the two of them, "Took you long enough. Let me take you out for a celebratory pint," he offered.

Shaking his head, Harry replied, "I don't think so." He slipped his fingers through Draco's, "I think we're going to be a bit busy."

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

Day 81: I Missed You | Day 83: Arcade

[theseusurus]

Lost in a Haze, Fighting Fate | Part 2

Summary: Y/N Raven has always suffered from their sight, From a young age Y/N could just always seem to predict the future however they just thought they were lucky, after attending Hogwarts and discovering their Seer Roots they began to trust it more and more however that can not be said for others. When Y/N fled Hogwarts they left everything behind, their teen love, their friends, family, and now with what seems like all sides against them, will they be ignored like seers before them and feed into temptation or will they fight for the good in the wizarding world and their love?

PART 2: THE PROPHECIES

Warnings: Mentions Bullying, slight hint at emotional abuse, and possible tw derealization (very short)

Pairing: Bill Weasley x Reader (Slow Burn)

Word Count: 2.4k

PART 1

When you arrived in Professor’s Trelawney tower to prepare your lesson for the day you didn’t expect her to be all over you introducing herself as Sybill and gushing about how she was excited to work with you and how it was an honor. You waved her off with a smile before you got a feeling, it was like your heart was being pulled out of your chest and you grabbed at your chest with only one thought in your mind, Moody.

You ushered Trelawney an apology and called that you would be back but with that, you rushed to where you remember Trelawney had shown you where the Defense against the Dark arts classroom was and sprinted as fast as you could before you slammed open the door.

“Professor Moody, that iz quite enough! What in the great heavens do you think you are doing? I can hear your class telling you to stop from down the hall and performing Unforgivable curses in front of children?! This iz extremely inappropriate!”

Your Cry caused the students who were crying for him to stop and Moody himself to be startled and stop the Cruciatus curse, before storming over to Moody and slapping him across the face. He jerked and placed the Spider down as you walked over to the student who he forced to watch the curse, he seemed obviously uncomfortable at the curse, looking Almost downright paralyzed you placed a hand on his shoulder, and the other on his arm, you whispered to him “Are you alright Monsieur?” He shook his head No and you sighed.

You began to lead the boy out of the door before turning to Moody and sneering at him, “You should be Ashamed, I have NEVER seen such a disgusting teaching method, expect to hear from me again, next time I see this display I will personally inform Dumbledore, Are. We. Clear?”

He cleared his throat and nodded at you before turning to A bushy brown-haired girl who was also obviously uncomfortable, You turned away from him and continued to help the boy out of the classroom before leading him into an Empty Hallway, he looked sickly and as if he was about to throw up or pass out at any second, staring blankly into the wall, You reached out and rubbed his arm.

“Monsieur? Are you okay? It was disgusting what he did in there and I am completely sorry, are you doing okay? Do you need to sit? Here let me help you..”

You helped lower him to the ground and sat beside him smoothing out your robes, you didn't say anything for a good few seconds before sighing and turning to him.

“I know it might be hard but please talk to me, are you okay? Do I need to take you to the Medic?”

He shook his head no again, “You know, my parents were tortured with the Cruciatus Curse, Moody knew that too.” You released a deep sigh before shaking your head in disbelief.

It was quiet for another pregnant pause before you whispered to him, “You know I was hit with a Cruciatus Curse once, it's why I can't hear too well in my Right Ear and can't see too well, one of the many reasons I wear this Veil.” “Really?” “Mhm, Teenagers can be Cruel, they didn't get much trouble for it either..” “Oh…” “Oh Indeed Monsieur..., what exactly your name I never quite got it, sir?”

“Ah, it's Neville, Neville Longbottom.” “Well, Monsieur Longbottom are you feeling any better?” “Just a little bit, not by much..” “Well Monsieur, you are free to join me in my Classroom until you feel better and You are always welcome to come in at any time if you feel like you need to do so, especially in Moody’s Class, now come on I'll brew you some Warm Tea.”

When the Fourth Years came in Professor Trelawney´s correction- Sybill and your classroom for their Divination lesson they certainly did not expect to see you sitting on a cushion on the floor with Sybill and Neville by your sides, you sat with your veil covering your face as you poured Neville and Sybill tea and shook your head and laughed.

“Can't be a hidden Seer and have an unknown identity if I lift my one concealing item for some Tea Now can I dears”

This caused Neville to blush before getting up and getting ready start to walk to his desk but you called out and he handed you his teacup before leaning over and watched as you swirled the cup and nodded, ¨Very promising Monsieur Longbottom, Very Promising Indeed, see that? Mhm, Indeed a Butterfly, Success, and Happiness are coming in your near Future.¨

Sybill stood up and smiled at you before turning to the class ¨Good Evening everyone, Let's take a Seat Please, Now today is a very special day! Thanks to the Triwizard tournament we are having a very special guest coming to visit us from France, This is the Head Seer at Beauxbaton and A relevant Figure in the Divination field, who was one of the best accuracy rates for Seers in Europe, This Is Professor Delphi¨

You nodded your head at her before walking over and standing at the front of the class, ¨Bonjour! My Name is Professor Delphi or Delphi, I have been a Seer for as long as I've been able to walk and Have been a practicing Seer since just about your age, Today I will be giving you all free readings however I will warn you all before my word is true and clear however if you choose to acknowledge fate and fix your mistakes you may be able to change it. Now, Any Questions?¨

Multiple hands shot up and you looked around the room before nodding at the Bushy Brown haired girl who you saw in Moody´s Class earlier in the day

¨Speak up for me Madame! Thank you, Now please say your name and your question?¨¨Hermione Granger Professor, How exactly are you ´Head Seer´?” ¨Wonderful Question Madam Granger! I am head seer as I have the most accurate Sight in my district let alone France and most of Europe, in my 24 years of living, and 13 of Being a known Seer I have gotten Two Predictions wrong, two out of thousands.¨

She seemed to be distrustful but nodded along anyway ¨Next Question?¨ More hands shot up this time, You called on a Brown haired boy and he responded with a thick Irish accent.

¨Name Monsieur?” ¨Seamus Finnigan Professor, Why exactly do you have a veil? Covering on?¨ You nodded and placed your hands down on the table for support, leaning down and feeling for a chair to sit in as the boy beside him knocked into, sighing ¨Seamus! That's rude!.¨ ¨Amazing Question Monsieur Finnigan do not be afraid to ask the hard questions!¨

You paused ¨However I wear this for multiple reasons, One to hide my identity being a professional seer can be hard and sometimes dangerous, Some people refuse to accept the fate and turn their anger towards me, some have threatened to hurt my family so this helps protect my identity and my family´s as well, even the name Delphi is a cover-up name Monsieur!¨”

Which got a few curious and surprised looks from the students, you looked around the room soaking it in before allowing yourself to continue. ¨Two, I use it to hide identifying features especially with my condition, A special someone in this class found out why today but for those who don't know I am Hard of seeing in my Right eye and almost completely deaf in my left ear.¨

You paused again before clearing your throat and swiping at your eye under the veil as you feel them begin to gloss up with potential tears, ¨it was due to an attack on me during my youth and while it did help me develop my higher senses it made me extremely vulnerable Physically, That is why I do not do big trips like this however I am here to teach the youth and inspire you all to look into the divination field so it is worth it.¨

Sybill patted your arm and asked quietly if you needed a break, you shook your head before turning back to the class ¨Any more questions before we continue?¨ A few students shook their heads no, hands sinking after the big questions were asked you nodded, ¨alright Madames, Monsieurs and all others let us begin! You all have a Teacup in front of you, I want ALL of you to drink your tea and come sit with me one at a time when you are finished if you wish, I assure all of you we have a lot to talk about.¨

You nodded at all of them, wishing them all good luck before sliding fully into the chair and feeling around for the teacup that you had left to your right, you heard someone sit to your right as they pushed the teacup in front of you.

You turned and saw A Blonde girl with fluffy wavy hair smiling at you. You returned the smile under your veil and took the teacup in your hands before sliding it up under your veil to inspect it.

¨Good Evening Professor, My Name is Lavender Brown! Divination is my favorite class. I've believed in it after Professor Trelawney predicted my poor rabbit´s death and predicted Neville would break a cup and it came true!¨

You smiled at her before giving a little chuckle ¨I'm glad dear so let's inspect this together, hmm oh yes that's interesting, you are going to be in love in the near future¨ This excited the Girl before you cut her off ¨However dear, do not force the love, let it come naturally or you will taint it and sweet child be safe, you will face danger in the future, never walk alone am I clear Madame?”

She nodded before turning to you and hugging you tightly, ¨Thank you professor¨ You returned the Hug and whispered ¨I believe in you child, let your heart soar freely but be smart!” she giggled at this and ran back to her friends that began to gossip to one another.

The Next student made you smile before he even sat down you could recognize that red hair anywhere ¨Monsieur Weasley, it is a great pleasure.¨ He sent you a look before you chuckled and ushered him to sit down ¨I knew your older brother Monsieur, you could say we were close when he attended here.¨ With a smile, remembering how Handsome Bill looked the last time you saw him.

¨You knew Charlie?” You smiled before shaking your head ¨Next one dear, but let's focus on you Monsieur Weasley let see this cup of yours.¨ You picked up the Cup and swirled it ¨Oh yes, hmm indeed, I sense self-doubt, You doubt you are worthy as those around you but oh how wrong you are. I see great things for you Monsieur Weasley, oh work in the Ministry it seems, oh how loyal you always return to your family hm?¨

Ron frowned at the mention of the ministry and smiled when you praised him for his loyalty especially to family, you extended your hand to him, ¨You may love your friends and they might be ´special´ but never doubt your worth Monsieur, I sense greatness in your presence doesn't let me be wrong due to jealousy.¨ With that, you placed your hand down and bowed your head to him ¨Do not forget my words Monsieur¨

You hear someone run over before whimpering out a sigh, looking up its Neville ¨Monsieur Longbottom, what do I owe the pleasure, hmm? Now let's see this.¨ The tea swirled before it cleared, ¨Oh how marvelous, Monsieur Longbottom you sure are meant to be a Gryffindor! You have an amazing spirit and loyalty, you have confidence under all that shyness, you must let go of your worries, I see greatness and passion in your future, A leader, hmm a teacher? We will see!¨

He stuttered and pointed to himself ¨Professor? Me? But I'm not brave!” ”Oh False indeed! You just haven't unleashed it yet, you are more than a house title anyways my boy, you are a son, a friend, a student, someone who brings light into anyone's life, you make your parents proud my boy, be you!¨ You wrapped his hand in your own and bowed to him ¨My word is truth, fate has foreseen your greatness my boy don't forget that. Be brave.¨

You didn't have to look up to tell who had shuffled up to your desk, you could tell by the voice having heard the same voice talk to Ron and call said voice harry.

¨Monsieur Potter, what do I owe the pleasure hm? From what I've heard you do not believe in my craft and often lie for a good grade hm?¨ He stiffened at the jab you made before you smiled.

¨Sit sit Monsieur I know how hard Seer classes can be for non-seers, this is no easy class Monsieur however you are special in other ways and it shows, you have a great burden on your shoulders, Fate will be cruel to you but you have great friends and a family, hmm protect those around you good sir, and Monsieur tell your godfather to find me for me, the oracle needs him, Oui?”

He seems shocked at the final statement but you merely smiled to yourself and bowed your head to him which he stiffly returns before hurrying over to Ron and Hermione, ah they are friends you remark to yourself and smile at the trio as they began muttering to each other quietly as soon as he returned, Oh how fun this trip will be.

PART 3

[angeli-marco-writes]

Dean & Seamus - At Last

A/N - 1.8k word blurb I completely forgot I wrote. Bringing this out of the archives, enjoy.

Warnings - slight cursing and angst, fluff, mutual pining.

Summary - Years of tiptoeing around one another and hidden feelings come to a head when Seamus finds a stack of art beneath Dean's bed. At last, something might happen.

“Hey Dean?” Seamus calls, breaking the silence of the half empty common room.

The two of them sitting together on opposite ends of a very comfortable and very small sofa with feet entangled in a contorted knot is not a rare occurrence, and everyone knows that the two like to be as close as possible. Dean has a notepad on the arm of the sofa, artistic pencils on the coffee table as he sketches away to his heart's content, while Seamus has a pack of muggle cards, teaching himself card tricks.

“What is it?” Dean replies, glancing up from his notepad to meet Seamus’ sympathetic gaze.

“Do you still have that muggle magic book? This isn’t going great.”

Dean chuckles, rubbing sleep from his eyes with the heel of his palm, deep brown eyes twinkling under the dim light from the candles. The way he watches Seamus when he isn’t looking is with nothing but pure adoration, not necessarily the way that friends should look at one another.

“Dean?” Seamus calls, suddenly much closer than before, kneeling in front of Dean’s legs now curled beneath him without his knowledge of putting them there.

“Uhm, the book? Yeah, it's under my bed. Careful you don’t find a banshee under there.” Dean says jokingly, curving his arm around Seamus’ torso to bring him closer, discarding his art for a moment, savouring the sound of Seamus’ laugh like music to his ears.

He stops thinking, and just exists for a second, only able to do that when Seamus is so close to him, chests pressed together, hearts beating as one, breath mingling and all inhibitions lowered. If he had a little more belief that Seamus shared his crush then he’d go the final step, bringing their lips together for more than a fleeting moment. If only he knew that Seamus in fact felt the same, equally as strong, equally as lovesick and just as scared of rejection. So for the meantime, they stuck to their own personal affections.

“I’ll be back in a minute, and I’ll call you if there’s a banshee.”

With a fleeting kiss that Dean pressed to Seamus’ cheek, the latter had disappeared up the stone stairs to the dorms.

On his way up, Seamus finds himself thinking non stop of the way Dean’s soft lips felt pressed against his cheek. Not like they haven’t kissed before, but every time it excites him, still bringing butterflies to his stomach after four years.

Their first kiss was in a game of juvenile truth or dare in second year, where Seamus revealed he’d never been kissed, and Dean was then dared to kiss him. That was the moment, for Seamus at least, that he’d realised he was gay - or at the very least, not straight.

It was half way through third year that the two had grown accustomed to holding hands and sharing clothes, stealing cheek kisses and cuddling on the odd night. None of this changed, even now they’ve become sixth years.

Seamus throws the door open to the dorm and leaps across to Dean’s bed, forever more comfortable than his own. He lies over it, inhaling Dean’s scent that he’s so used to wrapping him up whenever he sleeps. Oak and paint. The strangest perfection. After a moment of thought, he pulls up the west ham blanket, the oversized knitted quilt that the two made one Christmas night when they got far too cold, and finally the red sheets so that he gets a better look beneath the bed, which just so happens to be crammed full of random shit.

“Bloody hell Dean,” he sighs with a gentle smile, lighting his wand and sliding off the bed onto the wooden floor, preparing himself for a search.

Seamus sits and sifts through piles of books covered in dust, albeit in neat piles and just about alphabetised (all much more organised than his own), and a couple of boxes before he finds their old magic book.

Just as he moves to put everything back in its place, he comes across a locked trunk of chestnut wood and gold edges. It’s triple locked by the looks of padlocks atop the built in securities. But Seamus can’t help thinking, what does Dean have to hide from him? He’s always said “what’s mine is yours”, and that they know everything about one another. What could Dean possibly be so ashamed of that he didn’t even want Seamus to see? Chuckling at the first immediate thought, he pulls the box out and peers through a crack. It looks like… old notebooks?

“Cistem Aperio.” he utters the words used to unlock the trunk, only to find out that the padlock is a fake one and that the box itself only had one lock. Maybe the faux measures were to stop the other boys finding it, and not Seamus, but once opened, he’s astounded.

Piles of notepads and sketch pads fill the border of the box, but what’s in the centre is the most disconcerting. It’s Seamus, on canvas, ten times over. All from different angles, painted with watercolour or acrylics, all at different stages of completion because on some, the pencil lines are still apparent. Sure, Seamus knows that Dean is a bloody good artist, and Dean’s asked him to be a model once or twice, but this is another level. And even though he probably should, he can’t find it creepy.

He turns over a couple of the older canvases dating back to the bottom one, a mix of acrylic paint and heavy pencil shading. ‘Seamus, 7th April 1994; I wonder if you think of me half as often as I think of you.’

His heart stops just for a moment. Does dean… no chance. No way, there’s no way that Dean fancies him too. He could have anyone in the school, why would he fancy his dorky Irish friend?

He takes out a couple of the pads, opening to reveal pages of sketches of Seamus. The two together, Seamus at the lunch table, by the lake, with other people or asleep in Dean’s bed. Just the sight of Dean’s talent makes his belly flip. The curved pencil lines, the soft brushes of his coloured pencils, the perfect shading wherever it needs to be in the different photos. Each one has Dean’s signature, a date and a title in the bottom right hand corner., but some are a little more smudged with, tears?

He grabs the most recent sketchpad and tucks it beneath his arm, going to open a note pad filled with dozens of poems and quotes, but the most common one hits him hard.

‘You have to let it all go. The way he kissed you, the way he smelled, the way he touched your waist and pulled you in. You have to let it go and you have to let him go. Because he’ll never love you that way, he’ll always be your friend, and he’ll never be yours.’

That’s essentially all the confirmation that Seamus needs to realise that Dean’s liked him all this time. How could they have been so stupid, avoiding each other and never confessing?

He rips the page out of the notebook and runs out the door, the leather bound sketch pad bouncing in his clutch. He bounds down the stairs as ungracefully as possible, taking them two by two, his shoes resounding on the stone and hereby making a racket that the whole common room can here.

Seamus appears at the bottom, breathless and flushed as opposed to covered in soot, but his eyes are filled with a new flame.

“Dean,” he pants, eyes darting over to where he's curled up in the same spot as before, knees tucked under his chin with an art pad on the arm of the sofa, tucking his extortionately expensive pencil behind his ear when he sees Seamus all hot and bothered.

He stands, towering over everyone as he takes quick strides across the room, his breath hitching when he sees the sketchpad tucked haphazardly beneath Seamus’ small arm.

“Sea, please,” he begs, eyes brimming with tears to match Seamus’.

They stand an awkward distance from each other for a minute before Seamus takes the final step and closes the gap, gripping Dean’s tie and pulling him a little closer to his own height.

“Did you draw these of me?” Seamus asks with a raspy, trembling voice, filled with anguish and longing.

“Yes.” Dean murmurs softly.

“Did you write these poems about me?” he waves the tear stained page of perfect ink in front of Dean, making the taller boy swallow thickly.

“Yes.”

“Were you ever going to tell or show me?”

“Maybe one day.” Dean says guiltily, averting his eyes to the floor for only a second before meeting Seamus’ intense gaze once more, the flames behind the freckles on his cheeks a little intimidating.

“Do you, do you love me?” Seamus asks finally, taking a leap of faith, one that is finally reciprocated.

“Yes. Yes, so much.”

That’s all the ammunition that Seamus needs to tug Dean’s lips to his own, crushing them together and engaging in a fiery kiss of nothing but long awaited passion and love. Their tears dissipate as Seamus weaves his arms around Dean’s neck, and his curl around Seamus’ waist, lifting him up like he weighs nothing. Seamus deepens the kiss, licking along Dean's bottom lip to request an entrance which is more than eagerly granted, allowing them to explore each other's mouths finally. Dean lets out a muffled moan when Seamus bites down on his lower lip, the most heavenly sound Seamus has ever heard. Dean squeezes the ass that rests on his hips just for a moment before sliding his hands beneath his jumper, his dark palms running over Seamus’ milky skin, the perfect contradiction.

They become so enveloped in their bubble of passion, tongues dancing tantalisingly together, that they forget they’re in the common room, awkwardly withdrawing when the need for oxygen becomes too dire.

However, instead of the angry shouts and disgruntled faces they expect, it’s actually faces of sheer relief and lazy smiles all around.

“About bloody time!” Ron shouts.

Dean chuckles softly, lowering Seamus to the ground. The pair scrabble for their stuff, grasping it in uncoordinated handfuls, stuttering apologies before darting upstairs. Once at their dorm, they slam the door shut and throw their belongings elsewhere without a care, fighting over who gets to pin the other against the door.

“Have we really been dancing around our feelings since we were twelve?” Dean asks, trying to keep his focus on the time being while Seamus works tirelessly at the bottoms of his shirt, leaving kisses everywhere in his wake.

“Yes we have. And that means we have five years to make up for now.” Seamus quips, bringing Dean’s lips to his own once more, moving to enjoy their time together, at last.

[high-ashell-hargrove]

Master Mistakes- Fred Weasley

Synopsis: In the attempt to cheer Y/n up Fred plays a joke on Professor Snape, ultimately landing her and Fred in detention.

Warnings: i think a curse word? practical jokes, Snape.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Female Reader

words:1.3k 

A/n: If anyone would like to be put on a Fred or George Weasley tag list please send me an ask! tysm <3

___________

The day had already been incredibly draining for Y/n, nothing had been working in her favor. Seamus had set her transfiguration book on fire and Draco had kneaded chewing gum into her hair during charms. Needless to say, she wanted the day to be done and over with, but she still had Potions with Snape to get through. It couldn’t be that bad right? He doesn’t hate me as much as the other students. She thought as she slipped into her third-row seat. 

As the minutes passed by, she watched as her classmates filed into the classroom. All except for one. Fred Weasley, the prankster Quidditch player. Normally, she wouldn’t have put much thought into it but, his usual seat had now been occupied by some Hufflepuff. That had meant that the seat which had been empty beside her would soon have the redhead sprawled out into it. Y/n had quite a few times been blessed with the boy’s obnoxious wand twirling (often ended in him dropping it) and his ridiculous little jokes. But the bright side was, there had never been a dull moment with him present. 

Snape had been rambling on about the draught piece they were going to be recreating in class when Fred had barged in. His hair was slightly disheveled, and he still has his Quidditch jumper on.

“Mr. Weasley, maybe next time I shall have you teach the class, though I’m sure you would be late to that as well.” Snape sighed. 

“As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted, these plants are most efficacious in the inflaming of the brain and are therefore used in confusing and befuddlement Draughts, where the wizard is delirious of producing hot-headedness and recklessness…. This potion has quite a bit in common with a certain Weasley I have the pleasure of attempting to teach.”  He mocked, turning his head slowly his eyes met the ginger who now sat next to her. Looking back at Fred, he had a large grin plastered across his face. It brought him the utmost joy seeing Snape angered.

The last person Y/n expected to be paired with was Fred, she should have known. He must be in a really bad mood. Standing over the cauldron, book in hand, she began reading out the ingredients they would be needing. 

“Scurvy grass, lovage, and sneezewort.” y/n recited, looking up she saw Fred who hadn’t moved from his spot next to her, staring at her. 

“Are you alright?” she whispered. 

“Yes, I’m fine. Are you alright? Got some gum in your hair. ”  his hand reached for her Y/l/h, y/h/c locks. Sighing, Y/n nodded. 

Leaning in, Fred whispered to her “Do you want to talk about it?” No, she hadn’t wanted to talk about it, but it didn’t stop her from telling him about the events from earlier, because she knew he was just trying to be nice. He seemed to understand her frustrations. Surprisingly he didn’t want to add to it all, he wanted to take it all away. Fred wasn’t as close as he would have liked to be with Y/n but he couldn’t help it. Anytime it came to her he would clam up and just make a fool out of himself. The same thing went for her, she did adore the boy, even if he did constantly cause mischief. They both fancied each other and were too blind to see it. They had for a long time now.

Halfway through the class, they were almost done with the draught. Y/n read through the last few directions for the piece.

"What hair color do you think would look good on old snape?" Fred chimed in. Looking at the boy she thought It was the cutest thing, his hands rested on his chin. He looked like a little kid ready to get into some mischief.

"Well since you're asking,” Y/n began. Leaning in closer she whispered to him. 

“I think the greasy old git would look spectacular with a bubblegum pink shade.” Fred let out a throaty laugh, catching the attention of the professor in question. Without another thought, Snape turned back to his work. 

“You are brilliant.” pulling out his wand he takes a glance around. The only one watching was Y/n, who had a quite bewildered look on her face.

“Watch this” he pointed to Snape. “Colovaria,” he said, flicking his wand.

“Merlin” he heard Y/n gasp. There Snape stood, his once black hair was now indeed a bubblegum pink, and it stood out like a sore thumb. “What did you do?” she said again. Fred, who was fully expecting anger, looked at her again. She was laughing harder than he had ever seen her laugh before. 

“What could be so funny miss Y/l/n?” Snape shouted. Attempting to stifle a laugh, y/n pointed to her hair. “Professor, your hair.” now everyone looked at him, but no one dared laugh.

“Detention, both of you!”

Now the two of them faced Dumbledore, Snape still had a tight grasp on their robes. 

“You can let them go now, Severus.”

“These two- Weasley has tainted Miss Y/l/n!” they had seen a fit of new anger arise in him. His hair was still that pink shade, and his face had also turned a light pink as well.

“Please, Severus” Dumbledore Repeated, his tone hardening. With that Snape released the two from his grip. "I'm going to go… figure this out." Snape grumbled, as he left, he brought his cloak over his head, ashamed of what masterpiece had been underneath.

“He could use a sense of humor.” Fred sighed, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Agreed” y/n chimed in. Dumbledore hadn’t stayed serious for long.

“Yes it was quite brilliant, who chose the color?” he asked, looking over the brim of his glasses.

“That was all Y/n professor,”

“Mm I do love that shade” he smiled. Standing up, Dumbledore came to their sides. Placing a gentle hand on each of their shoulders. "I hope you understand there is only so much I can do."

Sadly they were still stuck in detention, thankfully after a talk with Snape, Dumbledore was able to shorten their sentence to a week in detention instead of a whole month. That night Fred and Y/n sat cleaning cauldrons. “I’m sorry I got you in all this,” Fred spoke up.

“It’s alright, I promise, it made my day a little better.” y/n said attempting to reassure him. 

"It was nice seeing you laugh," Fred said again. Looking up y/n saw Fred, who now sat across from her. "It was nice seeing the prank master at work.”

After a long, painful hour they had finished their first night.

“That was… oddly fun.”

“Yes Fred, yes it was.”

Sending Fred a wave and small smile, y/n started down the corridor.

“Wait!” Fred called out, his words were frantic. grasping her hand he pulled her, their bodies pressed flush together. His face was flushed red and so was hers. 

"Fred" she mumbled, a starstruck look was found in his eyes. The last hour they spent together Fred felt more connected than ever. He loved how willing she was to get into trouble with him, because other than his brother not many were. 

"Just kiss me already,  weasley" y/n whispered. Tugging him down by his jumper, she placed a loving kiss to the gingers lips. They were everything she dreamed they were, They were soft and plump.

An awkward cough pulled the two apart, “that was…. Endearing.” Snape grimaced, pulling his robe closer to him. Before shuffling back into his classroom he called out“Now get going before I give you another week of detention.”

“Well, I hope we could maybe, do that again tomorrow?” Fred questioned, rubbing the back of his neck, his hand still locked with hers.

“I would love that.”

____

[gondwana]

[spaceorphan18]

99 Perspectives on a Single Love Story #26

A/N: The Story of Kurt and Blaine told through the eyes of everyone else but them. Each chapter is a different perspective in the ongoing tale of their love story.

I started something like this a while back - and now I’m taking the idea and really running with it. Each chapter is a ficlet of a different character at a different point in Kurt and Blaine’s life - documenting their love story. This starts in Audition, and each chapter will be paired with a different episode until reaching Dreams Come True.

[Ao3]

***

Rory Flanagan (Pot ‘O Gold) 

Rory Flanagan has begun to settle into life at McKinley High.  He may no longer have a shot at Brittany Pierce (her exotic girlfriend is kind of scary) nor does he have that many friends outside of Finn Hudson (who said maybe if he played his cards right, he could get a spot on the football team -- which isn’t really football apparently, and that’s made things confusing), but glee club makes him feel welcome enough, and he still loves being in America.  

Glee is fun! Even if everyone seems to be unusually mad at each other all the time, and half the club has defected to a rival club in the same school! But singing always brings a smile to his face.  It’s nice to have a home away from home.  

But something that has perplexed him since he had arrived is an unusual habit of Kurt Hummel.  Before class starts, if he is not huddled together with Blaine Anderson, Rory finds him standing on one of the chairs, looking out the window.  It’s such odd behavior, and no one seems to notice or really care that Kurt is always seemingly up to something.  So, one slow Wednesday, he decides to join Kurt by looking out the window.  

“What are we looking for?” Rory asks, a bit of excitement in his eyes.  

Kurt raises an eyebrow, but does not look away.  “Who said we were looking for something?” 

Rory frowns.  “Oh, I just thought...  Cause you’re always up here looking out the window.” 

Kurt is quiet for a moment.  “Okay, I’ll tell you.  But only if you promise not to say anything to anyone ever.” 

Oooh, a secret.  How fun.  “I swear, Kurt, or I’m on the first plane back to Ireland.” 

“Okay,” Kurt says, a smirk across his face.  “So, one time, I was staring out the window and I thought I saw a ghost move through the bushes.  It looked kind of like me, only younger, and it scared me to pieces.  Or maybe I was imagining things.  But every day I come back.  Just to check.” 

“That is spooky,” Rory says, a chill running up his spine.  He looks intently at the foliage lining the walkway.  For a moment, he thinks he sees something move.  It could be, however, just the wind.  

“Don’t believe anything he says,” Blaine Anderson climbs a chair to join them.  It gives Rory a fright, and he nearly falls off the chair he’s standing on.  Blaine makes sure he doesn’t fall.  “Kurt has fed everyone that ridiculous story, and the only terrifying thing that has gone through the courtyard is Sue Sylvester.”  

“You don’t know, you weren’t there when it happened,” Kurt says, though his tone is more lighthearted than usual.  

“The courtyard isn’t haunted, Kurt.” 

“You don’t know that, Blaine.” 

“This is all very titillating,” Rory says, grinning.  He feels like he’s really a part of something now. “It reminds me of all the ghost stories we told as kids around the campfire.  We used to live near a barn that was haunted by a guy who was killed when his wife threw a potato at his head.  The ghost was supposedly said to throw potatoes at trespassers of the barn.   But it could have been Old Man O’Roarke not wanting kids on his farm.”  

Kurt and Blaine both nod quietly to Rory’s story.  

“You know, Kurt,” Rory says, as he looks him over. “If you were back home in Ireland, people might think you were my brother.  In fact, you look more like my brother than my brother Seamus does.  His hair is blonder.”  

Kurt immediately scoffs.  “That’s ridiculous, I don’t look anything like you.” 

Blaine lets out a giggle.  “No, I totally see it,” he says, despite Kurt’s glare.  “Oh, Kurt, don’t act like you aren’t half Irish.” 

“Hummels are German,” Kurt says, holding up a finger to punctuate his point.  “And I realize we have the whole Nazi thing to be ashamed of, but Germans were very influential in the invention of Western tonal music, which is the fundamental basis of everything we do in glee club.  And we have Neuschwanstein Castle.  Blaine, if we ever win the lotto, we’re getting married in that castle.” 

“Oh, of course, I’ll make sure to write that down,” Blaine says with a laugh.  “But more to the point -- wasn’t your mom Irish?” 

“How do you know that?” Kurt asks, a bit shocked.  

Blaine gives a shrug.  “Your dad was showing me an old yearbook.  Her last name was Sullivan.  And she had red hair.” 

“Sounds legit to me,” Rory agrees.  

“Seriously, you have got to stop having conversations with my dad when I’m not around,” Kurt says, rolling his eyes at Blaine.

“Well, maybe someone shouldn’t take so long getting ready that I end up having breakfast with your dad instead of you,” Blaine retorts.  

Rory, who is standing between them, wishes he had some popcorn to watch this delightful ping-pong act.  He loves the drama this club brings.  

“You know when I text you in the morning you should add at least a good ten minutes onto the routine time,” Kurt says, clearly not for the first time.  

“Well, maybe you should pick me up for once.” 

“Do you really want me having conversations with your dad in the morning?” 

Blaine waits a long time before responding.  “...No.” 

“Hey guys, I think I see that ghost you were talking about,” Rory says suddenly, thinking he’s seeing something on the other side of the courtyard.  Kurt and Blaine whip their heads towards the window.  “Oh, maybe not.  I think that’s just my reflection.” 

Kurt groans as he turns to get down from the chair.  Blaine lets out a giggle, giving a playful nudge of his elbow to Rory, and gets down, too.  

Rory remains staring out the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of something he could write home about.