#and ill never stop think of the implications of that for molly when he also crawled his way out of the graved on a ruidus flare night

[dent-de-leon]

Fate touched Lucien my beloved...Reborn as Mollymauk under a red moon, cradled by the Moonweaver's comforting embrace--a shattered shard of a soul who became whole...Resurrected a final time by Divine Intervention, so beloved and treasured he felt like royalty...Tealeaf and all the threads of fate he's tangled in, all the deaths and horrors he's managed to escape. His soul and destiny still bound to the Mighty Nein in every life--

[gwsseuphoria]

Euphoria S1E4 Review - Olivia Higgins

In episode four of season one, the audience gets a glimpse into Jules’ childhood and experience with being transgender. The main character, Rue Bennett tries to get clean for Jules Vaughn, her love interest and current best friend. Jules previously revealed to Rue that she cannot be around her if she is going to continue down the path that she is on. Rue uses drugs on a lethal level but works on stopping in this episode. Rue attends a carnival with Jules, and chaperones, her sister, Gia Bennett. Jules encounters Cal, a man she had sex with who is also the father of a boy she goes to school with, while he is with his family. This encounter creates tension between the two of them, when they realize the circumstances. Cassie and Maddy, annoyed at their boyfriends for not prioritizing them, decide to do molly together to let loose, while at the carnival. Maddy then goes on to sabotage, her boyfriend, Nate’s chili booth where his family is competing for best chili recipe. He then has an outburst of rage and ends up physically abusing Maddy. This outburst involved severe choking and slamming Maddy against a trailer. Kat hangs out with her friend Ethan, who she is also romantically interested in, until she misreads a situation thinking that he is flirting with another girl who is later revealed to be a family friend.

The episode begins with a recount of Jules Vaughn early childhood. She is a transgender woman, who had a difficult coming out experience. It takes the audience through her time at psychiatric hospital, where she was admitted for depression at the age of 11. She struggled with bouts of depression, largely stemming from gender dysphoria. It goes through her experience mentally with accepting her gender identity. She would cut herself, which landed her in the psychiatric hospital. When she got out, she started to transition and feel a bit better emotionally. By the time she was 16, she started having sex with men she found online, who would invalidate her gender by assuring her that they are “completely straight”. This implication invalidates her gender by implying that because she is trans she is not a “real woman” and therefore the clarification must be made that they are straight.

Most of the characters are cisgender, but Jules, who is an important character and love interest to the main character Rue, is a transgender woman. She is the second character introduced in the series, so she speaks a lot throughout the series and specifically this episode, since the first part is centered around her experiences. Jules is very involved in the main storyline of the show since Rue relies on her friendship to stay sober. This show does not necessarily rely on stereotypes, but it does showcase a lot of general issues that certain groups face. An example of this would be when Jules’ recounts her experience with depression within the psychiatric hospital. Even though this does not happen with every transgender person, depression is common throughout the community for a variety of reasons, like discrimination, low self-esteem, etc.

Sexuality plays a large role in this episode, from sexual orientation to sexual expression. In this episode Rue tries to confront her feelings for Jules. She realizes that she is not sure how she wants to go about addressing those feelings. This is the first girl that she has had feelings for, but Jules’ is also her best friend, so she does not want to jeopardize their relationship. On another note, Kat decides to lose her virginity to a random guy she met at the carnival. She does this after leaving her friend Ethan. Kat does this to feel empowered, which happens when she expresses herself sexually.

Although Euphoria mainly focuses on a young queer Black woman, there is not a lot of talk of how race or ethnicity plays into the specific issues of each of the characters. For example, Rue also deals with addiction and mental illness, but they never address how race plays into her treatment for those issues or how she is treated by medical professionals. This also happens with the characters from the Latinx community, their ethnicity is never considered when addressing their lives. The way they paint race and ethnicity makes it seem like these factors have no impact on their lives.

This show addresses very private and personal issues that have political implications. These issues include sexual orientation, sexual expression, domestic violence, gender identity, drug addiction, sex work, body image, and sexual assault. The show addresses these issues by giving the characters general problems that go along with these identities and topics. The show then provides an internal perspective by taking the viewers through the thoughts of the characters and giving a more personal point of view.

Sources

Levinson, Sam. “Euphoria - Shook Ones Pt. II.” Episode. HBO Max 1, no. 4. New York, New York: HBO, July 7, 2019.

[dearophelia]

gonna set your flag on fire - chapter 8

chapter 08: let it all come crashing down

An old friend from home needs to speak with you. [read on AO3]

(eternal thanks to @nightingaleseeking​ and @tarysande​ for their cheerleading on this project!!)

James reads the message again. And then a third time. The nine words don't change.

Mission FUBAR. Team captured. AA guns online. Nora compromised. 

“Shit." The message is dated two days ago, picked up and forwarded by a long-range vorcha comm buoy this morning.

He takes a mental inventory. Chen and Rahiri are back from their mission, but Deck’s team isn’t due back for another three days. He checks the N team roster and comes up empty. Not even a single N1. He sends a message to Abby, hoping she knows something he doesn’t about who's available for a rescue mission, and then dials Liara.

The connection takes a while to establish as it navigates through Liara’s security measures. Though the delay isn’t any longer than usual, James starts to fidget in the silence.

“James,” she answers, smiling. But her smile fades instantly upon seeing his face. “What’s wrong?”

“I need you to send a few agents out to Zorya. Follow up on that Cerberus intel you passed us. Immediately. Please,” he adds as an afterthought.

Her brow furrows, but she taps at her console out of view. “Done. What’s going on?”

Even if he wanted to, there’s no sense in hiding it from Liara: she’ll find out as soon as her agents report back. “I sent a squad to check it out. They’ve run into some trouble.” He pauses. “A lot of trouble,” he corrects the understatement. “And Nora’s on the team.”

Liara blinks at him a few times and her eyes widen. “Do you think –” she cuts herself off, as if not even wanting to imagine the end of that sentence, let alone speak it into the universe.

“Yes,” he says quietly. “They got a message out and that’s what it sounds like.”

“Goddess,” Liara exhales. “James, you have to tell her.”

“I’m not telling Shepard I lost her kid.” He’s certainly not telling Shepard that he lost her kid and that her kid’s under Cerberus control. He has to tell her. Shepard isn’t anywhere near his chain of command anymore, hasn’t been for a long time, but she’s a good friend and she can pull resources he currently can’t. But he doesn’t want to tell her.

Liara shakes her head. “You have two soldiers available who can stage a rescue: an adept and a Shadow, a pair very ill-equipped to storm a base this size.”

James frowns, but he’s long stopped asking how his wife knows everything she shouldn’t. She does well by the information. And Liara’s right: Chen and Rahiri are good soldiers, but there are only two of them and they’re far better suited to stealth and infiltration. They tried stealth and infiltration with the first team and that only resulted in one compromised soldier and the other five captured. It’s time to blow down the front door.

“Even if you add yourself and Abby…James, you cannot do this with four people, do not be that stubborn. We would all tear the galaxy apart for our kids, but Olivia actually has the power to do it.”

“I know,” he says. And so do you, he adds silently, gratefully, though he hopes with all his heart Liara will never have to. She’s right, again: putting an Alliance team together with the right skills and security clearance will take too long. The war may have ended thirty years ago, but Shepard and her role in it haven’t faded into irrelevance. She wouldn’t use Galactic Affairs resources for this – she and Garrus have always separated their family and their work – but that hardly seems to matter. He’d bet a year’s salary that she’ll have half her old crew assembled by day’s end, and probably even wrangled the Normandy. “I’ve had nightmares about this call,” he admits.

Liara offers him a reassuring smile. “Better it comes from you. And now.”

His omnitool beeps with a response from Abby. No joy. Even Abby isn’t available. “Yeah,” he sighs.

“When you have a plan, tell me where I should meet you,” she says.

Of course Liara’s coming; James doesn’t know why he ever considered otherwise. She’s Shepard’s best friend.  Dropping everything for each other is what they do. “I will.” Their kids are with Aethyta for the summer; they don't even need to find a babysitter.

“As soon as my agents have anything, you will be the next to know. Good luck.”

“Thank you,” he says. He’ll need it.  

***

“I have a name and a paper trail a year old,” Liara says. “Which would you like first?”

Strange how this feels so much like a war council. Tablets scattered across the table, holographic projection in the middle, second cup of coffee steaming in front of her. Garrus at her right, Liara at her left, around the table with Miranda across from her between them. All they're missing is some bad lighting, Hackett on the QEC, and James lurking around the edges, unsure where he belongs.

Except this is their dining room, not the Normandy, and there aren’t any NCOs stationed outside, just their kids sleeping upstairs.

“Name,” Olivia says before anyone can say otherwise. Nora's been with them for three months and it's taken this long to find anything on Project Damocles. She's wanted a name since Chakwas pointed out the chip on that very first scan.

“Doctor Charlotte Turner, head of Project Damocles.” Liara calls up a holoimage of a pale blonde woman with strong cheekbones and an angular jaw.

“Turner’s still alive?” Miranda says, almost in awe. At the blank stares the others give her, she explains. “I lost track of her in the war. She’s brilliant.”

“She has her claws inside my kid’s head, Miranda,” Olivia snaps.

Miranda looks at her through the holoimage. “I realize that, Shepard. But Turner is formidably intelligent. Underestimating her would not be wise.”

Olivia takes a shallow, sharp breath. She isn’t sure whether she’d like to kill Charlotte Turner, or throw her into an Alliance cell deep underneath Vancouver and destroy the key. If they're both very lucky, she won't have to make that decision.

“Her trail goes cold about a year after the…surgery on Nora,” Liara says.

Olivia grimaces and doesn’t want to know what other words her friend may have used there. Bad enough she and Garrus use words like experiment and implantation regarding their daughter. Those words don’t need to see daylight, much less other people.

“But we think she’s still alive?” Garrus asks.

“I found no evidence otherwise,” Liara says. Her eyes flick toward Olivia before focusing again on Miranda. “There’s mention in this file that Turner worked on Lazarus.”

“Lovely,” Olivia mutters. Garrus rests his hand on her knee, beneath the table out of sight of the others. She drops her own hand down and gives his a gentle squeeze.

“She was an early consult,” Miranda brushes past the statement before any other implications have the chance to fall. “Her research was irrelevant to what we needed. She was moved onto other projects.”

Olivia bites her tongue about splitting a fine difference between irrelevant and unnecessary. It isn’t her mind she’s worried about anymore. Nora’s upstairs in her bedroom, sleeping soundly underneath a yellow comforter and glow-in-the-dark stars, blissfully unaware of this very disturbing conversation happening where she ate dinner a few hours earlier.

“And we lose her a few years ago?” Garrus brings everyone back to the present.

Liara nods. “Current Cerberus records are patchy at best and she drops out of them in early 2189. She may still be working for Cerberus, but the last record I have of her is security footage leaving Omega on a transport ship ostensibly headed to Virmire.” She brings up a new image. Despite the dark hair, it’s obviously Turner boarding the ship. “There’s no record of the ship ever landing on Virmire,” she continues. “But it does appear two years later on a cargo run through Aralakh for Kassa Fabrication. According to my agent, the owner either truly does not remember Turner, or is a very good liar with some incentive to cover for her. Likely the former."

Garrus sighs and leans back in his chair. “She could be anywhere.”

“The Alliance has spent the last few years knocking on the door of every Cerberus cell they can find,” Olivia says. “Any chance you know of any they may not have found?” she asks Miranda, though she’s asked it before.

“We were isolated from each other for precisely that question,” Miranda says, the same answer she’s always given.

It was worth a shot. “Here’s hoping she slips up,” Olivia says, though she’s been around the galaxy enough to know that people like Turner don’t slip up.

They only reappear of their own volition and only then when it’s already too late.

***

Olivia stares past the elcor ambassador at a spot on the wall behind him. They really should repaint the meeting room.

“This one disputes your claim.”

She shifts her gaze to the plant behind the hanar ambassador. They should also water the plants in here. Maybe replace them with synthetics.

She lets the elcor ambassador retort – with great irritation, I do not care – before she sits up straight and focuses her attention on the two. “Ambassadors,” she says, and then is interrupted by the door chime. Olivia furrows her brow. Molly’s new, but she knows not to interrupt these meetings. “Yes?”

The door slides open. “Director, Ambassadors, I’m so sorry for interrupting.” The young woman looks nervous. No, worried. She tucks her hair behind her ear. “Director, you have an urgent call.”

“How urgent? Can it wait?” As much as Olivia would like to be just about anywhere else, economic tensions between the elcor and hanar have been rising lately; her office is the last stop before Council trade mediators get involved and come up with a solution that will probably piss off both races and the krogan.

Molly shakes her head. “An old friend from home needs to speak with you.”

Olivia’s blood runs cold.

Adrenaline sparks against her tongue. She swallows against a sharp wave of nausea and blinks rapidly, forcing her vision to clear. There’s a ringing in her ears as she turns back to the other two and she’s never been so thankful that neither race understands human facial expressions.

“Ambassadors,” she says, surprised at how calm her voice sounds while her heart pounds in her chest, “my apologies. This requires my immediate attention. Assistant Director Kali T’Vasa will take my place in these conversations." She stands and grits her teeth together against the vertigo that joins the nausea. Breathing slowly, she gathers her computer and, after giving both ambassadors a courtesy nod, steps out of the meeting room.

She whirls around on Molly as soon as the door closes, surging half a step into her assistant’s personal space. “Who the hell pulled that line?” she hisses.  

Molly’s eyes go wide and she takes a step backward. “Commander James Vega?”

Olivia’s heart thunders in her ears and another wave of adrenaline crashes into her, freezing cold and frantic. “Okay.” She closes her eyes tight, forcing the tsunami of panic to hold off for just a little bit longer. Five minutes, that’s all she needs. Talk to Vega, find out what happened, then panic.

With a sharp exhale, she opens her eyes again. “Okay. Uh – pull Kali out of whatever she’s doing and send her in there so those two don’t do anything stupid. And reschedule everything for the next three days. No, a week. And,” she pauses. “I need coffee.”

“Large black triple shot hazelnut latte?”

“Yeah.”

For a moment, Molly looks like she’s going to say something. But she doesn't. “Anything else?”

“No,” she shakes her head. “Thank you,” she adds belatedly.

Molly nods. “He’s connected to your private terminal.”

Olivia manages a small smile for the young woman and steps into her office. She takes three deep breaths – good air in, bad air out – before picking up the call. “What happened?”

It’s a testament to how panicked James is that he doesn’t even say hello. “The mission Nora’s on went pear-shaped. Cerberus captured her team, but they got an SOS out. The chip’s active.”

Everything

just

stops.

Time, air, the galaxy. James on the vidcall.

Her brain ceases processing external signals. Everything freezes in place, silent and unmoving, except for Olivia’s shallow breath, in and out.

The chip’s active.

Air in, air out.

Not good, there’s no good air in here, there might not ever be any good air again, and there’s so much bad air in her lungs she could never hope to breathe it all out. Just…air. Keep breathing. Breathe. Inhale, exhale.

In. Out.

Her lungs burn with the force of it.

“…need your help,” James is saying when everything flips back on again. He stops. “Shepard?”

“Yeah,” she says, blinking a few times. She refocuses on his face on the screen in front of her. Just another crisis, that’s all. She’s spent her entire adult life managing any number of crises. If she can fool herself into thinking this is no different, she can make it through this conversation. Make it through this day. She exhales sharply, straightens her shoulders, and shoves the panic part of her five-minute plan to sometime several days from now. “Yeah. What do you need?”

Just another crisis. That her daughter is at the center of it is a fact she does not have time nor space to dwell on right now. Nora doesn’t need her to panic.

Nora needs her to help.

***

“Here’s a thought,” Alle says, staring up at the ceiling. The concrete floor isn’t particularly comfortable, but if she’s lying down, she isn’t pacing. And if she isn’t pacing, she isn’t driving herself and everyone who can see her insane. “I’d love to just sit here and wait for a rescue, but waiting at least another three days to see if our message even got out is probably not our wisest plan.”

"No," Carlos agrees, "probably not. But – and I'm not saying we shouldn't try – but we don't have any of our gear, our intel was wrong, and now we're down a person."

Alle sits up. She tugs her hair down from its mussed ponytail, runs her fingers through her hair, and then pulls it back up out of her face. Looking over at Rachel’s cell, she sighs. It’s been almost two days since they dragged an unconscious Nora out of the cell. And though the others all thought she was hearing things, Alle will swear to every known god and goddess in the galaxy – and a few she thinks she got from television – that she heard screaming late last night. “We've had worse odds," she says, because they have. This just feels worse. "Anyone got a way out of here?”

She’s met with silence for half a minute and then Micah speaks up.

“Getting out isn’t difficult,” he says. “We rush them when they bring food, that’s not an issue. The problem,” he sighs, “is what do we do beyond that door. Torrini's right: we have no gear, no idea what forces they have, and the blueprints we had are out of date. Any escape route isn’t guaranteed.”

“Yeah, but they can’t have changed it that much,” Carlos says. “It’s a concrete building in the middle of the jungle. We found some walls and doors in the wrong spot, but generally everything was right. They’re not gonna overhaul the entire infrastructure. Some rooms might be missing, but a hallway isn't going to go the wrong way. Right?”

Alle quirks her eyebrow. He has a point. But blind faith that Cerberus hasn’t blocked their exit strategy with their redecorating isn’t how she wants to rescue her best friend. She ultimately may not have a choice, but she’d like to avoid shouldering major parts of their plan onto Cerberus is too lazy to remodel their jungle base. “Doesn’t solve What’s Behind Door Number One, though.”

“And we’re unarmed,” Micah points out again.

“We have an omnitool,” Alle says.

“That hardly qualifies as ‘gear’,” Rachel says, putting air quotes around the word.

“No, but Torrini can walk Wu through how to hack into those force fields with it, and I distinctly remember the goons bringing food having guns. We can acquire gear.” Now that she’s made her way through half a plan – even a half that largely depends on Jonah being able to understand Carlos when he goes full tech nerd – Alle finds herself very reluctant to stop planning. Momentum has carried her through many a FUBARed mission. No reason that tradition should stop now.

With a deep breath, Jonah pushes himself upright from his silent corner. “Problem Number One, retrieve our gear. Our actual gear. I’m not running an extract with an aging pistol we took off someone on the prison catering staff. Number Two, find where they’re keeping Vakarian and spring her.”

Alle swallows. They all know how to leave people behind; they’ve all made that awful decision to choose the mission over people and sometimes she thinks it was a prerequisite for the program. If she’s being honest with herself – and honesty has always sucked but has also always kept her alive – the easiest way to get the five of them out is to ignore Problem Number Two entirely.

She knows she’d never forgive herself, never stop being haunted by a metallic orange stripe and the ghost of a grenade, but forgetting about Nora is how Alle guarantees she gets out of this alive.

Momentum she’ll keep, but fuck honesty.

Problem Number Two is on the board. Jonah put it there and the other three aren’t arguing and maybe they all had to leave someone behind to learn that it isn’t something you do twice.

Jonah cracks his neck. “Problem Number Three, get all of us out of this damn base.” He pauses, waiting for someone to bring up a fourth problem.

They have way more than three problems, but nothing worthy of the board.

“I’m looking for answers to any of those three problems.”

***

Garrus stops by the front door to double check the security system. All green, all safe. He turns off the downstairs lights and heads upstairs.

His omnitool beeps softly with a forwarded message from Liv: the Citadel building department finally signed off on their design, all the finances are authorized, and remodeling on their new place will start next week.

"Thank you," he whispers in relief to the universe for at least one bright spot in this evening of bad news. They didn't have space even before they brought Nora home. In a few months, the boys will have their own rooms, he and Liv will have their own offices again, they'll have a full dextro/levo kitchen big enough that they can both cook at the same time without tripping over each other, and they'll have enough closet space that they can stop storing everyone's shoes in a closet downstairs with the holiday decorations. They'll even have a real guest room, not just a pull-out couch shoved into the corner of Olivia's office, lost anyway when they converted the room for Nora.

He turns off the light at the top of the stairs, casting the hallway into shadows. He passes his sons’ room, pleased to see their light off. Quentus has been protesting the concept of bedtime lately,

Soft light spills out into the hallway from Nora's room, the warm glow of her nightlight. She doesn’t like sleeping with the door closed and it's cracked just enough to see in. He peeks his head around the door. She’s sound asleep, curled up tight around her teddy bear. The stars have lost their glow for the night, but the fish nightlight glows happily in the corner.

It’s hard to believe she’s the end result of some twisted Cerberus experiment. She’s sweet and shy and smiles and doesn’t deserve the horror show someone placed in her head.

No child does, but especially not his daughter.

Between Liara and Miranda, they’d been able to put together a good picture of Turner. Garrus had had enough somewhere around learning she’d worked on a project trying to meld AI with organics. That one wasn’t Cerberus, according to Miranda, which didn’t really make it better. Worse, somehow, when Liara found some tenuous connections to the Alliance. He’d walked away and busied himself with laundry until the other two had left.

Nora looks so peaceful, so unaware of the bomb in her head. He knows he can’t keep it that way forever, but spirits, will he try. He silently steps back out into the hallway and continues toward his own bed.

“You okay?” Olivia asks, shutting down her omnitool for the night.

Garrus sighs. “We’re caught up on laundry.”

“That’ll last until tomorrow,” Olivia observes.

He nods in agreement and walks into the bathroom to get ready for bed. When he comes back out, Olivia’s leaning on the wall, waiting.

“That wasn’t an answer,” she says.

“I know.” He brushes past her.

She pushes off the wall and silently follows him to bed. She doesn’t respond, but everything she isn’t saying resonates off of her: she’s worried, she’s concerned, she isn’t going to push him.

Garrus clenches his jaw and curls his talons tight around the blanket as he tugs the covers back. Her patience drives him insane sometimes. “Our daughter has a dormant control chip in her head. We have no idea what it will do to her, and the monster who put it there is still alive somewhere, doing who knows what. I don't know what you want me to say, Olivia.”

She looks up at him with kind, soft eyes. “You walked away in the middle of the conversation and did what I’m pretty sure is eight loads of laundry. I’m just checking in.”

“Nine,” he says quietly. He sighs and lets the blanket fall back to the bed. “No. I’m not okay. Are you?”

“Nope.”

Though Olivia’s terrible at telling him anything other than truth, Garrus makes a perplexed sound. She didn’t leave and do three hours of laundry.

“I’m very good at compartmentalizing,” she reminds him, climbing into bed.

Garrus nods and slides in beside her.

It’s always scared him a bit, how good she is at turning things off, packing them away to be dealt with later. They're both good at it; it comes with being a soldier, but Liv is the expert. He hasn’t seen her with that kind of targeted focus in years. He honestly hadn’t wanted to see it again.

***

Olivia sits down at the kitchen counter with a heaviness and exhaustion she hasn't felt in a long time. One more call and then her list is done. One more call and then there's nothing to do until the Normandy picks them up in eleven hours. She still has to pack, but she can't justify pushing this call off any longer.

She can tell herself that other things were more pressing, more urgent. That in the grand scheme of this particular problem, it was more important to track down Miranda and pull about a hundred strings with Alliance Command. Starting a plan in motion was, fundamentally, a more critical task than stopping to tell her husband what’s going on with their daughter.

Yet no matter how she spins it, no matter how much logic she puts onto all the other calls she made first, it doesn’t change that she’s calling him last because she doesn’t want to call him at all. Doesn’t want to tell him, doesn’t want to say the words out loud. Doesn't want to see his face when she tells him that their worst nightmare is now their reality. She’d much prefer fabricating a sudden work trip, disappearing for a week, and returning with Nora in tow, crisis already resolved.

But Garrus is her husband and he is Nora’s father, and she needs to tell him. He needs to know. He deserves to know. And as much as she'd like to never tell him about any of this, she needs him to know. She needs him beside her for whatever comes next.

Olivia clenches her back teeth and calls his office.

“Good evening, Director Shepard,” Kyra says.

No matter how hard Olivia’s tried to convince her otherwise, Kyra always addresses her by her title. Olivia gave up five years ago. Tonight, she wishes she’d tried a little harder: she’s Mom right now, not Olivia Shepard, Director of Galactic Affairs.

And Garrus is about to be Dad, not Garrus Vakarian, Turian Councilor.

“Hi, Kyra. I need to speak to Garrus, please.” Her voice sounds so much calmer than she feels.

“I’m sorry. The Council’s in a closed session.”

Olivia nods. “I know.” Her throat’s suddenly bone dry. She swallows a few times before she can get the words out. “Tell him an old friend from home needs to speak with him.”

[disneyfanatic-kitty]

The Other Malfoy: Chapter 6 - The Offer

(2.1K words) Read it on AO3

Chapter Summary: Feeling sorry that the Malfoys would have to spend another lonely Christmas without Astoria, Harry proposed an idea to Albus which would make the holiday easier for Scorpius.

When Harry thought about Christmas, his first year in Hogwarts had always stood out for him as his first real Christmas. Back when he had lived with the Dursleys, not only would he receive nothing for Christmas, he would also have to slave away at the holiday parties they had thrown. His first winter break had already started out pretty great with no classes, no chores, more food than he could possibly eat and the Weasleys to spend his time with. He had not have any expectation going to sleep on Christmas' Eve as it simply had not occurred to him that anyone would send him a present at all. He would never forget how moved he had felt to receive his first jumper from Molly Weasley, who had only seen himself once very briefly on the platform at the time. From then on, Molly had become as close to a mother to him as possible, so it had been amazing for him to actually become part of the family later on. Ron and some of the other Weasleys might have gotten tired of receiving jumpers as Christmas present every year, but certainly not Harry, who would be reminded of what it would have felt like to have a mother every time he received a jumper. It was upsetting to think about how Scorpius would feel now during Christmas, when he would be sorely reminded of his loss even more than most days.

"It must be very hard for Draco and Scorpius, with just each other to spend Christmas with." Harry did not realise he had said it out loud. He had no doubt that Draco, being the only family Scorpius had, loved Scorpius with all his life but Draco Malfoy did not struck him as a father who could ever be good at expressing his love, and it might be true that Draco could afford anything Scorpius would have wanted for Christmas, but just the imaginary lonely Malfoy Christmas in his head was enough to make him feel sorry for the poor boy. But then, there was another who was as close, if not closer, to Scorpius as any family could ever be.

Albus was taken aback by his father's abrupt change of subject but decided to go along with it. "Yes, I heard it was pretty depressing last year. Scorpius said they had this lavish christmas dinner together but did not share more than ten words with each other." That sounded even more terrible than Harry had imagined.

"But he is actually rather looking forward to it this year. Our Time Turner incident has brought him much closer to his father. Scorpius even cried into his father's arms and told him everything that ...night..." Albus trailed off as he realised he had told his father too much about his friend.

"That's ...great to know." Harry responded distractedly as he was processing the implication of what his son had just said, Scorpius had told Draco everything… that would certainly include the torture, right? He was relieved as this meant he would not have to be the one to tell Draco that horrifying information. But then he focused his thought on the reason why he had brought up the Malfoy Christmas in front of Albus at the first place.

"Albus, I am wondering… if you would like to spend a few hours at the Malfoy Manor on Christmas morning?" The moment he said his thought out loud, Harry realised there would be no turning back, not that he felt regretful for saying that.

Instead of the excitement he had expected, his son was staring at Harry as if he had grown an extra head, which actually made a lot of sense. The Slytherin boys had requested to spend some time together during winter and easter breaks for the first two years. However, Harry had consistently said no since these two breaks were only two weeks long and Christmas was a time for family. By third year, the boys had given up hope of spending time together in the short breaks that they had not bothered to ask at all. It was true that Harry still believed it was important for Albus to spend Christmas with his extended family, but that did not mean he could not spare a couple of hours to make a difference to someone else's Christmas.

"But…" His son finally said, "you have always said Christmas is a time for family." Albus was still staring at his father, as if waiting for him to reveal that this was just a terrible joke.

"True, but family comes in all shapes and sizes, it does not even have to be blood family. The Weasleys have become a family to me since my first Christmas in Hogwarts. The same can be said about Scorpius and you, you are his family."

As he continued to stare at Harry's earnest expressions, Albus finally let Harry's suggestion sank in and his look of disbelief and uncertainty slowly morphed into one of wonder. He fist pumped into the air and screamed "Yes!" Then, in the fit of his excitement, he pulled his father into a hug. "This will be the best Christmas ever, thank you!"

Of course there would be some people he would have to persuade, some harder than the others, but as he was being hugged by his socially-awkward son for the first time in years, he knew he had make the right decision and he would have to make this happen no matter what.

As soon as Albus had let go of Harry, he started looking around and said, "This is so exciting! I have to write to tell Scorpius imme…" Harry stopped his son as he was pulling out his parchment. "Albus, this is quite a big thing to ask the Malfoys. It would be more appropriate for me to write to Draco myself." Albus deflated and looked ready to argue, but then stopped himself as he came to see the logics behind Harry's words.

Harry patted his son on the shoulder to reassure him, "I will go to start writing the letter right away and have Snitch take it to him, he should receive it before six, which will give him plenty of time to reply."

Albus nodded, then hesitated a second before asking "Will grandma and grandpa be unhappy to know that I will arrive late?" This might sound like a childish thing to ask but it was actually a rather valid concern. Christmas was after all one of the very few occasions for the entire extended Weasley family to come together that it was safe to say that Christmas day was the most important day of the year for Molly and Arthur Weasley. Molly would start working on her jumpers at least a month in advance and all the homemade delicious sweets and pastries a week in advance. It was also a day that would remind them of the loss of Fred. Albus loved his grandparents a lot that he would not want to be the one to ruin their Christmas. But then, Molly and Arthur had a whole dozen of grandchildren.

Harry gave his son his most fatherly and soothing smile and said, "Don't worry, I will take care of it, I promise." Albus seemed to trust his father enough to return a smile.

Harry immediately pulled out a piece of parchment to write to Draco after returning to his room. He had just started when Ginny entered.

"I took it your father-son conversation went well. I don't even know our son is still capable of making such an excited sound… Hmm, what are you writing, Harry?"

Harry was worried about Ginny's reaction but there was no point delaying the inevitable or lying. "Hmm… a letter to Draco Malfoy."

A confused frown formed on Ginny's forehead, "Okay… why would you be writing to Draco Malfoy now?"

"Because I need to ask his permission for Albus to visit Scorpius for a few hours tomorrow morning." Harry was so worried about Ginny's reaction that he did not try to elaborate on his answers at all.

"Let me get this straight, Albus has just screamed in delight because you have given permission for him to spend Christmas morning at the Malfoy Manor instead of the Burrow." Ginny said calmly, her face unreadable.

"Yes. And he will only be staying there for about three hours. He can open his presents at home with his siblings before flooing over to the Manor, where I will pick him up myself at around noon and bring him to the Burrow. He will still be having Christmas lunch with the entire family." Harry said in an unexpectedly defensive tone, he was bracing himself for anger or attack, except it did not come.

To Harry's surprise, Ginny's lip curled up into a smile. "That's actually not a bad idea. I have always felt sorry for poor Scorpius. He must be so lonely after his mother's passing… Hmm, you know, I think spending time with Scorpius would make our son more delightful at Christmas lunch. I know Ron and our nephews don't mean ill but it's hard for Albus to get teased so much for being a Slytherin."

Harry was extremely grateful for Ginny's positive response, and she had voiced one of the reasons why he had thought it would do Albus good to be allowed to visit the Malfoys on Christmas morning. While Albus had been there at all the Christmas dinners and lunches the last couple of years, he would always sulk in the corner for hours, trying to avoid everyone that he might as well be not there. It had not been his fault that all of his siblings and cousins had a lot of inside jokes and had generally been much closer among themselves since they were all Gryffindors, but it did not make it any better that Albus would try to hide in the empty rooms just to get away from people on Christmas day of all days. Of course some of the adults and the girls would try really hard to engage Albus in conversations or games, but it was like he simply refused to have fun. Harry was hopeful that having spent time with Scorpius on Christmas would put Albus in a much better mood for his grandparents' benefits.

Harry gestured to his parchment and said, "I would love to have a talk since I have been so busy these days but I should finish this letter as soon as possible."

Ginny waved her hand, walked over behind Harry as she said, "Of course, don't mind me. Scorpius would be so excited to learn the news!"

It was hard for Harry to focus on the task at hands with his wife's hands touching his shoulders and the sweet floral aroma of her shampoo reminding him of her presence every single second. Awaring that Ginny was reading his every word, he was feeling ridiculously self-conscious as he wrote,

"Dear Draco Malfoy,

You may be wondering why I would be writing to you on this particular day or why I am writing a letter without sending our presents. We have indeed sent out our presents with Amber just a while ago but I am writing in regard to a different but urgent matter.

I am wondering if it would be okay for you to have Albus visit the Malfoy Manor on Christmas morning for a few hours. I know that Scorpius does not have much family left and I believe letting Albus visit will bring Scorpius some well-deserved christmas cheers. It will make Albus' Christmas as well to meet his best friend. If you have no objection, Albus will be able to floo over at around nine in the morning, he will be expected at the Christmas lunch at the Burrow so he will have to leave at around noon. You are not obliged to say yes but I hope you can really take your time to consider, everyone deserves to be happy on Christmas.

In any case, merry Christmas to Scorpius and you, Malfoy.

Yours sincerely,

Harry Potter"

Harry fetched Snitch, his owl, to deliver his letter immediately. He knew that this was a strange name for an owl but Snitch had shiny light brown fur which looked almost golden at times, he was also ridiculously fast that a trip to Malfoy Manor could take him less than an hour. Given the urgent nature of the message, it was important for Harry to pick the quickest owl to deliver.

"I hope he says yes." Harry said as his eyes followed the owl disappearing into the snowing sky.

"Of course he will. Whatever you say about Draco Malfoy, he loves his son!"

A/N: Comparing with writing the chapters, reposting the chapters is certainly not the most time-consuming things in the world but I do wonder if anyone actually read this out here that if it’s worth the tedious work. Any support would make me so happy.