#and it's about how they clash - or work together - because the history of the rune wars is repeating itself

[infinitelystrangemachinex]

The stewards of the old world are always keen to give you a glimpse of their might... According to legend, the ancients built specialized chambers to seal away false prophets.

The Arcane is waking up.

[sunflowersseemhappy]

main 6 with an apprentice who’s blind? also, i hope you have a lovely day!

Thank you anon for the request, sorry it took so much time but I was melting in the heat here and had a bit of writers block. Despite that I have had a lovely few days since I got your request!

I really hope this is alright, obviously take it with a grain of salt as I am not blind and have no clue what other people who are blind go through.

This is more based on an apprentice who wasn’t blind before resurrection but it could be either way. But I think it makes sense for the Apprentice (as the Fool) to be blind due to the classic card in tarot... (but I won’t get into that now!)

As always I hope you enjoy! REQUESTS ARE OPEN and up next is;

Main 5/6? react to an Apprentice who is trying to cheer them up about their histories by talking about their own history with Lucio. (A better title to come.)

Asra

Some of his travels involved looking for treatments, never really gave up looking for something or someone who could help you.

Begged the Magician to help restore your sight, it was hard enough you no longer had your memories but without your sight Asra didn’t know how you would cope.

Baby proofed everything, all the furniture is nailed down and the heaviest items are on the lowest shelves, he put railings on both sides of the stairs and did consider putting the bedroom downstairs.

Faust is now a guide dog snake, she takes her duty very seriously but her warnings can come a little late because snake’s vision is slightly different.

Placed magical runes around the city so you could find your way, it took him a while but they work well and act with your own magic

Hired a caretaker at some point, who was great but as you learned you didn’t seem to need the help as much.

Removed all the doors (except those that lead outside) so you wouldn’t walk into them, though you still fumble with the curtains he put up on them instead.

Enchanted a mirror to check in on you while he’s away, he can see and speak to you if needs be.

Hummed or sang songs when you were frustrated with your impairment.

Considered not teaching you magic, but couldn't bear to deny you that part of yourself - so he taught you to use it to strengthen your other senses.

Lets you know when he wants to touch/kiss you, because he’s so light footed he’s surprised you one too many times.

Was and still obsessed about you touching his face to let you know what he looks like, needless to say you are obsessed with how fluffy his hair is. The both of you just sit there opposite one another and he lets your hands roam over him, he was so pleased when you asked him if he wanted to do it to you.

Finds it hilarious that the clothes you wear often end up gaudier than his own and clash terribly. He always lets you know and helps out if you need it.

Everything is a mystery when it’s placed in your hands by Asra, a potion bottle? Tea? Faust? No matter how many times he does it Asra always forgets to let you know what he’s giving to you. You just stand there and try to work it out.

Knows that you use your blindness to get out of chores, but he just loves you too much to confront you.

Nadia

She looks for possible treatments, but doesn’t let you know. She doesn’t want to get your hopes up, there’s nothing worse than false hope.

Nadia’s both a countess and a princess, she has some major pull so surely she could find something? However her efforts are as fruitless as Asra’s but she is determined to make you as happy as possible.

You can’t see her face but when she realised she could not do anything she cried right in front of you without you noticing.

Asks you if you wish to have a handmaid/foot servant as your guide/helper (like Portia is to her), if you say yes she will personally hire them and make sure they are the kindest person she can get.

Got all of the palace labelled by the doorways

Made your room minimalist and very cushy

Searched for braille books you could read, it was a nice gesture but you hadn’t learned it yet so the two of you learned it together.

Chandra became your silent watcher, at first she was very unamused at looking after you but after a few good pets she��s glued to your side.

Makes sure the palace is kept impeccably clean.

Do you want a guide dog? Because she’ll get you one or even three.

Some of the courtiers, not naming any *cough* “Valerius” *cough* may make some rude comments and Nadia may imply that if they don’t apologise their tongue may find it’s way out of their mouth...

She buys you delightfully tasteful clothes, but when she gets around to describing the colours you get confused because Asra just used the simple terms like blue. “There are egg-shell’s on this?!” She laughs and realising her mistake she takes the time to describe the variations of colours to you (like so).

At least her surprises for you always stay a surprise.

She finds it quite endearing that you wake up and never really have much care for what you look like, but she does insist she at least brushes your hair so it’s not sticking up in places.

When you ask to ‘see’ her by touching her face she forgets herself and nods (before realising you didn’t see that and saying yes), she is very flustered when you tell her she’s pretty. Other people have said it, but something about you touching her face and finding out in your mind what she looks like is different...

Very gentle when touching you, her hand often slips into your’s when you are unaware but it never makes you jump. A lot of the time it’s like you can feel her presence as she enters the room.

Guides your lips to where she wants you to kiss, always with a gentle touch.

Julian

He tried so hard to use his mark to take away your blindness, so much so he actually passed out from the effort. You were very scared and didn’t want him to try again, you lied about seeing him for a brief second.

In his own mind Julian wants so badly to heal you, he’s a doctor and that’s his job! But he can’t, it feels worse than when he tried to cure the plague.

He may not be able to heal you but he’s had experience with others who were blind, he makes your life so much easier.

Tried out giving you a white cane to figure out what was in front of you, you may have accidentally hit him in the shins a couple of times.

A lot of supervision, it’s not that he doesn’t trust you its just that he’s seen you pick up flour to put in your morning coffee one too many times.

Tries to cook (empathise on tries).

Lets you know what his expressions are when he’s talking about things, very good at communicating his thoughts and feelings.

Malak takes advantage of the situation, stealing any shiny objects when Julian’s out and you (obviously) can’t see. After a precious possession went missing Julian climbed up into the rafters to steal them back.

He shoulder bumps you, just to let you know he’s there if you need him. Although you sometimes get confused and apologise thinking he’s a stranger that just passed by.

Finds it adorably cute when you apologise to an inanimate object that you bumped into, his face just says ‘gods I love you’.

Very needy and wants you to touch his face all the time, he’ll just grab your hands and place them on his face. You’re very confused about the eyepatch. He loves it when your hands find his lips and trail down his chin, he just melts.

Within reason he jokes around a lot, his favourite thing to do is to stick his very cold hands down the back of your shirt and make you jump.

Absolutely loses his s**t when you make blind jokes to people who are completely unaware (ie. “Look at this!” “I would but my eyes don’t seem to be co-operating right now.”)

Muriel

Muriel knows that Asra tried everything to restore your sight so he’s very aware that if Asra, the most powerful and wilful person he’s ever met can’t help you, then he can’t do much else.

He even says it outright to you. Sure he’d want to try and help you but that’s just not something he’s able to do, but you would appreciate his honesty.

He’d make up for it through all his actions, and to be honest that is all you could ask for (at this rate it’s a breath of fresh air not being poked and prodded and slathered in ointments and tonics).

Muriel found you smacked your head on the door frame/beams of the hut one too many times (he used to do it a lot but he came to expect it). For you he pads them with fur lining, or just does some heavy lifting and prop them up higher.

Gave you a rune that rumbles when you’re about to smack into something (kind of like echolocation but magic)

Inanna is such a doll, she lets you gab the fur between her shoulders and guides you wherever you ask. Often escorts you back to the shop if Muriel can’t

Speaking of which, although he doesn’t like it Muriel will brave Vesuvia’s streets to make sure you get back to the shop in one piece.

Whittled you a cane, he made sure he didn’t get hit in the shins.

Although he can get a bit flustered at physical touch, he’ll always hold your arm if you want him to. Heck he’ll carry you if you ask.

Makes a sound/word, taps you before touching you, he’s a big guy and although he knows you don’t mind he really doesn’t want to scare you.

Takes you out and describes the places in the forest you visit, he really likes to describe the animals to you because your reactions are awe-struck.

When you asked to ‘see’ him he was confused, but when you described it he was hesitant. It’s one thing people seeing him and another people touching him, but your face is so innocent and he knows you don’t mean to make him uncomfortable. So after mentally preparing himself he sets you on the bed and sits in front of you.

His eyes were closed as your hands roamed his face but he let out a sigh as you traced the shape of his face and ran your fingers over the stubble of his cheeks and chin. He actually enjoyed it. Until you let out a shocked sound at the feel of his scars, “What is this?!” He very stiffly answered what and why they were there You then apologised profusely.

He can be deviously quiet without meaning to be so it’s a shock when you realise he’s been behind you the past ten minutes.

Makes you carvings of animals when you want to ‘see’ them too, you gave them names and called the wolf Mini-Inanna and the bear Muriel, because of reasons...

Portia

Feels very much the same way as Muriel does, at the end of the day she’s a servant not a powerful magician, a wealthy count or a skilled doctor like her brother.

Her main focus is to make you happy despite your blindness, it doesn’t have to change anything about your lives.

That being said if she heard about a magical object from one of Mazenkalias stories that could grant wishes or something she’d be on the next boat out of Vesuvia with you to make an adventure out of it.

Quickly realised she needed to hide the good china after knocked a tea cup over and off the table.😂

Put a bell on Pepi’s collar so you don’t step on her.

Pepi picked up fast that if you were going to sit on the chair she was on she’d have to mew or get out of the way! She forgives you and has on a few occasions raced to meow at you to let you know you might trip over something on the floor.

Learned braille with you when Nadia sent you some books after Portia told her that she wished you could read the books she had.

She makes you tons of blankets and pillows that have embroidered accents for something to fiddle with while you’re bored.

Always has a first aid kit handy, her cottage is messy and full of odds and ends and unfortunately accidents happen.

Created safe spaces, the bedroom and the living area are both devoid of anything apart from cushy furniture.

When Portia’s working at the palace she and Nadia invite you to escort Nadia during her duties so you can ‘see’ Portia at the Palace but be watched after by the countess.

Very giggly when you ask to ‘see’ her, she can’t stop smiling and thinks it’s amazing that you can piece together an image of her in your head. She loves it when you press your fingers to her cheeks and makes funny sounds to make you laugh too. When she mentions freckles you are awe-struck, because you didn’t know people’s skin could have them.

Accidentally remodelled the cottage without telling you, resulting in you falling flat on your face after tripping over a stool when you entered.

Also loves the blind jokes you use on others, she’ll retell them to Julian and they’ll just laugh over your comedic genius.

She’s too loud to sneak up on you so you know when she’s coming, but she warns you all the same by saying what she’s about to do. If she shouts “HUG!” prepare to be squeezed by her deceptive strength.

Once blindfolded herself and tired to experience the world like you do, fell over and hurt herself. You couldn’t stop crying with laughter as she tried to explain.

Lucio

Appalled at the thought! He feels very sorry for you and would probably try to make another deal with some demon, you have to drag him away by the ear while lecturing him on how bad of an idea it is.

It was really awkward having to deal with the healers, magicians, advisers, etc... he hired to ‘fix’ you. You actually had to give him a few stern words and ease him down, the determination is appreciated but you’d much rather have his attention than let him fuss over restoring your sight to you.

In the end he’s glad you did because it was only then he got to love and dote on you the way he wants to.

Tried and failed to train Mercedes and Melinchor into suitable guide dogs, those two are too headstrong and stubborn (kind of like a certain count you know).

Insists on escorting you to wherever you want to go before he goes to where he is supposed to be, does not care if he’s late for a meeting so long as you are where you want to be.

Mercedes and Melinchor are actually helpful, they keep their distance but if you’re lost you’ll feel them tug at your sleeves and guide you or they’ll guard you from possible foes (e.g the courtiers).

Commissioned paintings/sculptures you could touch so you could ‘see’ the exotic places he described to you.

Stopped wearing the sharp plates on his prosthetic arm as when you touched it you would get hurt by the sharp metal.

Tried to learn braille with you but he found it super hard with his prosthetic arm as it didn’t feel things like a normal hand, but you both took your time and succeeded together.

Can’t believe you can ‘see’ him by just touching his face but lets you and asks what you think about how he looks. Has never felt more self conscious than he does now. He sit’s very awkwardly but can’t help but mumble a little as you trace his nose and up to the ridge of his brow. “You’re very handsome.” That’s enough to make him splutter a thank you.

You ask at one point to feel his stump where his arm was and he’s pretty reluctant but lets you all the same as you find out about his scars and ask him about it. Afterwards he gets cocky and asks if you want to ‘see’ anything else, you smack him on the shoulder but laugh anyway.

Actually forgets you’re blind sometimes, he’s accidentally; smacked you in the face with several objects (pillows, hairbrushes, eyeliner...), asked you to pass him his dressing robe (you passed him yours and he got trapped in it), told you to look at the cool albino turtle he got and you just deadpan said “Wow.”

He’s seen you talk to statues after brushing past them and thinking they are people.

Sneaky like Julian will definitely scare you every once in a while, jokes on him if he doesn’t dodge your hand in time. But when he wants to touch you he’ll make his footsteps more pronounced and ask you if he can give you a hug or a kiss.

[hillnerd]

Romione au headcanon where they date and break up ootp and hbp happens same as it is

Sorry this took so long to write!  Ended up being 8k+ words! Hope you like it! :) 

Valentine’s day was the next day, but that meant very little to Ron. He had no romantic plans. He never had in the past, and this Valentine’s day was looking quite bleak. Angelina had scheduled a quidditch practice that day, and he knew he needed it. He was the worst player on the team- perhaps the worst player in all of history. What had he been thinking, trying out in the first place? The looks on everyone’s faces at the end of each scrimmage was enough to make him sick with nerves. He was always an eternal disappointment, he knew- but now the whole school knew.

He was moping by the common room fire, fingers pressed into his eyes when something miraculous happened. Angelina had gotten sick to her stomach in a nearby planter. She was ushered up to the hospital wing and diagnosed with Fwooper Flu, which had been going around the castle. Her getting sick wasn’t miraculous, but the rest of the team coming down with the Flu, and thus canceling practice? That was probably considered miracle worthy of Merlin himself.

Suddenly free, he realized the possibility of Valentine’s Day meaning more than just discount chocolate. It could mean spending the day with Hermione! On Valentine’s day!

Truth be told he’d spent every Valentine’s day with Hermione since he’d been in Hogwarts, but he’d never realized how much he fancied Hermione then. Maybe he had always fancied her on some level. Either way, he was fully smitten now and hadn’t a clue as to how to close the deal.

He’d given her perfume at Christmas, but she didn’t act any differently afterwards. She’d politely thanked him, and he’d not gotten anything special from her. She gave him and Harry the exact same, rather horrible, talking homework planners.

But she HAD kissed him earlier that year. It was only on the cheek, but maybe… Maybe that meant something? He couldn’t remember her ever kissing Harry.

Then again, maybe it was all in his head. Maybe she didn’t fancy him at all. Maybe it would be better to skip Hogsmeade and practice flying, official practice or no. Maybe he should give up on Hermione altogether.

After all, she was beautiful, and smart, and had people like Viktor Krum after her. Compared to all that, Ron had little to offer. He was a skinny freckled ginger, who was poor, horrible at quidditch, and got average grades. Sure he was good at chess and kind of funny- but that was not exactly heartthrob material, was it?

Feeling thoroughly down on himself, Ron was ready to turn in to bed when Hermione stepped through the portrait hole, arms laden with books that looked ready to topple. He quickly got up, took them from her, and guided her to the seat beside his own.

“Thank you,” she said with a smile. Thoughts of his lameness fell behind him as he took in her countenance, and her hair got all huge and staticky as she removed her scarf.

“What’s all this?” he asked, pointing to a stack of books impressively large for a Friday evening.

“Well, we have quite a few papers coming up, and I wanted first dibs on these for our papers. And of course I have Arithmancy and Runes on top of our regular classes. The Runes texts are perfect for my new translating assignment. We get to choose our own epic poems to translate, and I’ve been torn between two poems for ages, so I think I’ll just translate both, then choose whichever one I translated better. I also have a few books you might want to use on our Transfiguration essay that you can borrow when I’m finished.”

“Sure, thanks.” Half the time he didn’t really listen if she got deep into it on studies, but he always loved to watch her animatedly ramble. She had such a breathless flush to her when she went on about something, and he found it charming most of the time. Sometimes he would exasperatedly sigh at her, but it was mostly so he could get her to glare at him. Her glares were practically pouts, and she’d scrunch up her little sharp eyes at him, and somehow it made him smile even wider. She was the cutest indignant person he’d ever met.

“What have you been up to?” she asked, sorting through her books and laying them out.

“Basking in my luck. The team is all sick with flu, except me and Gin- so practice got cancelled!” he said with a smile, putting his long legs up on top of some of Hermione’s books. She made her usual glare and he grinned at her before he gave a rough swallow. “So… I was thinking we could maybe go to Hogsmeade together then, since I’m not busy anymore… I mean, if you don’t have plans or anything.”

“Well, I do have something going on midday—”

“Oh! Ok, well then nevermind—”

“But! I think we could manage to spend some time together before it,” Hermione finished, shooting him a twinkly little smile.

“Oh yeah?” Ron said, perking back up. “Ok then! Erm… Meet you at breakfast around nine and we’ll go together from there?”

“Sounds good.”

It was perfect! Ron had a date with Hermione! Well… No it wasn’t a date. She didn’t even look all that excited. She was looking through her bag for a quill, and not even looking at him. Should he push it and make it clear he wanted it to be a date? It was loads safer to not say anything. She’d probably laugh herself silly if he tried. But…

“Well, then…” Ron said, standing up and taking a centering breath.

“It’s-a-date! See-you-tomorrow!” he blurted out.

He said it all very fast, and before she could say a word, and before he could check to see her face, he bolted up the stairs.

“Oh bleeding hell,” Ron cursed himself halfway to his dorm. What had he been thinking? Well… Perhaps she hadn’t understood him? Or thought he didn’t mean it that way? Merlin’s hairy bumhole! What an idiot he was.

As he got to his dorm he found Harry staring at a pile of clothes on his bed, as if they were a particularly difficult riddle that needed solving. He looked up at Ron with relief.

“What am I supposed to wear?” Harry asked gesturing to the pile.

“Start with pants and work your way outward.”

“Really helpful, that. Thanks,” Harry said shortly, giving Ron a two fingered salute. He looked grim and pale faced.

“Is this for… er… Hogsmeade?” Ron asked, putting his hands in his pockets. He and Harry never much talked about girls. He didn’t particularly want to start now.

“Yeah…” Harry groused, putting a hand through his hair. Ron found a sudden reeling sensation twisting in his stomach, knowing he’d have to make the same sort of decision.

Luckily for them both, Dean, Neville and Seamus came in.

“Boys,” Ron said stoutly, gesturing them over with as much bravado as he could. “Harry’s not a clue what to wear for his date with Cho. Thoughts?”

The other boys looked over and laughed a bit but finally, after they all stared at the mound of Harry’s clothes for a good ten minutes, they decided on his nicest jeans and one of his jumpers that fit alright. Something that was nice, but not too nice.

“Don’t want to look like you’re trying too hard, yeah?” Seamus had said.

Late that night, when everyone else was asleep, Ron did a similar dive through all his clothes. He had nothing that could even remotely fall into the category of ‘too nice.’ Did he have anything at all that was even nice? It took a lot of digging, but he finally found the pair of jeans he’d received from Percy that summer, not a week before the prat had abandoned their family. Percy rarely wore anything as casual as jeans, so they were in a respectable state and fit Ron better than any other trousers he owned. He settled on the one jumper he had that didn’t clash with his hair. It was a little knobby with pills of fabric in the armpits- but not enough he thought Hermione would mind. Yes… Hopefully he would look alright for his first Valentine’s date.

_______________________________________________________

“It’s-a-date! See-you-tomorrow!” Ron blurted out before practically sprinting away from Hermione.

Hermione stared after him, her mouth agape as she processed what he’d said.

Surely he didn’t mean… Did he really say date? He couldn’t have possibly meant it as a real date, could he? But then why would Ron say anything like that? She’d hoped he would take some initiative and show interest in her, but wasn’t sure what to make of this. Did this count as him asking her out? Or were they just going to Hogsmeade together because he had nothing better to do?

She hastily gathered her books, not able to think of anything as trivial as runes when she was on the crux of a possible first date with the boy she had fancied for two years!

Oh! Ginny! She needed Ginny’s help immediately. Hermione had no idea what to do with her hair! Or what to wear! Or even if it was possible this was a date.

With as much speed as she could she Leviosa-ed the books and flung them onto her bed, not caring when half of them fell to the floor with a large slam disturbing Parvati and Lavender from a giggling conversation they were having.

She bound to the fourth year’s dormroom and luckily found Ginny reading a quidditch magazine on her four poster.

“Merlin!” Ginny exclaimed, taking in Hermione, who was panting and ringing her hands. “What’s wrong?”

“I think… I think things might be right, actually!” Hermione let out a high pitched desperate sort of laugh, before she squeezed herself around her middle in agitation. “I’m not sure, of course, because I’m never allowed anything to go smoothly in this area, but yes… Yes I think things are going very well!”

Ginny looked at Hermione with concern before putting a hand to her forehead.

“What are you doing?”

“Making sure you don’t have Fwooper Flu.”

“I don’t have flu!” Hermione laughed. Ginny looked just as nonplussed as ever. “No… I— Oh Ginny, I think I might have been asked on a date!”

“What do you mean you think you might have been asked on a date?” Ginny smiled with incredulity.

“Well I was asked to Hogsmeade, and when we made our arrangements to meet up he said ‘it’s a date!’ So I guess, it’s a date?”

“Sounds like it!”

“But it is a common expression!” Hermione fretted. “Maybe it’s not!”

“Well, who asked you?” Ginny asked, seating them both on her bed.

“It was…” Hermione hesitated, biting her lip. Ginny had inferred Hermione liked Ron, but they’d never explicitly discussed it. It felt odd to confess her excitement if this was all a folly and Ron had meant to ask her only as a friend. It was a line she’d never crossed before, and the vulnerability of it made her tremble.

“Was it Ron?” Ginny asked quietly, a look of awe on her face.

Hermione silently nodded her head, and began to clutch at her arms again.

Ginny gave a broad toothy grin that made her resemble a smug Fred or George.

“The coward finally asked you out!” she crowed.

“We don’t know that he did! Like I said, it’s a common expression.”

“Not for Ron! Here, I can go and ask him—” Ginny moved to get up, but Hermione desperately tugged her back in place.

“No!” Hermione said in a strangled voice. “He can’t know I talked to you about it, because if he didn’t mean it as a date, and thought I thought it was a date and cared enough that I was talking about it and discussing it with his sister, then he’d think I fancied him, and he could be weirded out, and it could cosmically shift our dynamic, and then our whole friendship could be in jeopardy!”

“Hermione,” Ginny said putting a bracing hand to her shoulder. “You worry too much.”

“No! I worry the appropriate amount!”

“I won’t say anything, of course, but we all know he’s fancied you for ages. But even if it’s not a date, it can’t hurt to look nice for it and do a little bit of flirting.”

“Well, I came to you to help me with the looking nice bit, but as for flirting, I don’t believe I’ve ever been any good at it.”

“Just laugh at his jokes, and say nice things to him.”

“I do that already!”

Ginny arched an eyebrow.

“What?” Hermione replied defensively. “I do!”

“You kind of do, I guess, but you also go into scold and lecture mode a lot with him… I mean, he totally deserves it, but when’s the last time you complimented him?”

“I don’t know, the last time he did something worth complimenting obviously!” Hermione huffed, throwing up her arms.

“So, never?” Ginny laughed.

Hermione puffed up in response.

“That’s not fair! He’s done loads of things! He does things all the time! He’s very accomplished!”

“Well tell him that, and don’t wait for him to suddenly ‘accomplish’ something on your date.”

“Well you can’t go doling out compliments when people don’t deserve them.”

“I thought you said he was accomplished?”

Hermione squirmed. She was not sure how one should naturally segue way into complimenting when the act hasn’t been achieved recently.

“How?”

“I dunno, bring up past acts of valor or something? You’re a smart one. Make a cheat sheet for yourself and revise!”

Hermione nodded. That’s what she had to do. She needed to sit down and revise! She had no time, really, but she could manage this. Ginny agreed to help her with her hair and outfit the next morning, which left the rest of the night to think of some good compliments for Ron that she could apply in a natural way. And if it wasn’t a date, at least she was planting seeds that might blossom into affection later.

_______________________________________________________

Ron had never spent more time in front of a mirror. He didn’t have to shave all that often yet, but that morning he spent extra time making sure he didn’t have a stray whisker anywhere on his face or neck, made extra sure there wasn’t a pimple or anything hiding somewhere, and fiddled with where to part his hair a good ten minutes. 

Before he knew it, he only had five minutes to get down the dining hall. He and Harry got the breakfast, both looking as peaky as Ron did before a quidditch match. It didn’t take long for Ron to spot Hermione among the students.

Her hair was looking extra tame and bouncy, like she had spent a lot of time on it. That had to be a good sign! She’d pulled back part of it from her face, and… her lips seemed to have a shine to them they normally didn’t. She looked lovely. Was this for him? Or was this for whatever her midday Valentine’s plans were?

She didn’t notice them at first as she was taking a letter from an unfamiliar brown owl. She had an intense look on her face as she quickly read the letter, seeming to come to herself as Ron and Harry sat with her.

“Oh good! You’re here!” she exclaimed, looking to Harry and ignoring Ron. “Listen, Harry. This is really important…. Do you think you could meet me in the Three Broomsticks around midday?”

“Well… I dunno. Cho might be expecting me to spend the whole day with her. We never said what we were going to do.“

"Well, bring her along if you must, but will you come?”

“Well… all right, but why?”

“I haven’t got time to tell you now. I’ve got to answer this quickly—” she said as she got some triangles of toast and shoved them into her bag, ready to leave the room.

Ron should have known she’d forget about their date. Whatever this plan was with Harry seemed to be more important to her than whatever plan she’d made with Ron. He gave a sigh and began to load up his plate, resigned to spend the morning alone, when Hermione stopped mid stride and turned to Ron.

“Well, come along then!” she said, looking at a befuddled Ron. “Make an egg sandwich with your toast or something! We can get more food after I respond to the letter.”

Ron quickly complied and gave a shrug to Harry, who was eyeing them with nothing short of complete confusion. Ron was highly confused as well, but felt quite cheery as he followed Hermione. It was easy to keep up with her, even when she was practically running, since his legs were so long. Hermione always took quick tiny steps wherever she went and it made her curls bounce in a unique was that Ron found adorable.

She was on one of her missions, so Ron knew it best not to interrupt until she’d finished whatever her little task was. She lead them to the Owlery and penned a letter before choosing a school owl.

“This is urgent,” she told the little owl. It hooted in response before taking off. They watched the owl as it got smaller and disappeared over the horizon.

“So…” Ron said, polishing off his hastily made sandwich. “Mind telling me what all that was about?”

She quickly explained her plan to blackmail Rita Skeeter into doing an interview with Harry for the Quibbler so he could finally get the truth out about Voldemort’s return. They were to meet at the The Three Broomsticks midday. Ron had never felt such relief, but also was in awe of how cagey Hermione was.

“That’s a brilliant plan!” he exclaimed giving her a hug. He hastily let go of her and gave her a moment to fix her hair he’d mussed in his excitement.

They went on to the village talking about Skeeter, Harry and a variety of topics in the same easy manner they always did. Ron didn’t know anyone he could talk to as easily as Hermione. Well, besides Harry of course, but it was different. He and Harry talked all the time, but much of it was laughing and shared looks and being able to just hang out. With Hermione there was this… spark. He didn’t know what it was. It just made the whole thing feel exciting, even if it was just debating over the difference between jam, jelly and preserves.

They went on to stare at the Shrieking Shack, recalling memories of third year.

Ron felt his palms begin to sweat. Was this a date or not? How could he make it romantic? Maybe he could do something chivalrous - like give her his coat if she was too cold? Or he could just use the cold as an excuse to hold her closely, and then look into each other’s eyes and, in a fit of passion, kiss each other.

“Are you cold?” Ron asked.

“No, I’m almost too warm, actually. I think I went overboard with my warming charms before we left the castle.”

Ron deflated. Well there went that idea.

“Er, Ron. You look nice today,” Hermione said stiffly.

“Thanks,” he replied, unsure of what to say. “You do too. Your hair is all shiny.”

“Ginny helped me with it.”

“Well she did a good job.”

“Thank you.”

“Welcome,” Ron replied before awkwardly looking away from her.

Oh, this was a disaster! What was he supposed to do or say? Did she look nice because of Rita Skeeter- perhaps wanting to give the woman nothing bad to print about her looks- or was she looking so lovely for him? ‘Your hair is all shiny.’ That wasn’t even a real compliment. What a tosser he was. He could do better than that, surely.

Despite his flimsy attempts at complimenting her, she was smiling at him. He loved the way her eyes seemed to sparkle a bit when she smiled like that. They reminded him of a rock in Percy’s rock collection he’d seen. It was called Tiger’s eye, and the shiny crystal had a special sort of soft lustre to it just like Hermione’s. Her eyes weren’t just brown, they had all sorts of honeyed hues to them.

“Your eyes look like rocks,” Ron said, before his eyes widened and his ears went red.

“I mean… Shit,” Ron cursed himself.

Hermione began to look angry.

“Did you really just say my eyes look like shi—”

“NO! I— fuck… No! I was trying to say they look like this special stone Percy had in his rock collection. It has all sorts of different colors in them. Tiger’s eye. Like… it was a really pretty rock, I swear! My favorite.”

Hermione stared at him in befuddlement before a smile broke out on her face, and her shoulders began to shake with suppressed laughter.

“Oh don’t laugh!” Ron rolled his head away from her, his face going red. After a moment of listening to her laugh, he found himself fighting a grin. “To be fair, in my mind it was really poetic.”

“I’m sure it was!” Hermione beamed at him.

“See, right there! When you smile like that! Looks just like it,” Ron enthused.

“That’s very sweet, Ron.”

His eyebrows rose as he looked down at her.  So his rock thing had worked! Maybe he could try his other gambit?

“You sure you’re not cold at all?” he asked, giving her a hopeful look.

“Well, maybe my hands are a bit cold.”

Ron quickly grabbed her gloved hands in his own and held them tight. She was so tiny in every way. It amazed him how small even her knuckles were compared to his. He sandwiched her hands between his and began to rub them. He wished she weren’t wearing gloves- but it was still nice to have her so close and do something a bit more intimate than he’d managed before. _______________________________________________________

Hermione felt a thrill run through her as he took her hands in his. Even through her gloves she could feel the warmth of his hands burning through her. Everything about Ron was warmth and fire. His hair, his fiery temper, the way he could flush a deep red, and even how warm bodied he was. She’d be shivering from cold, and Ron would complain it was hot.

She wished she could bury herself in his embrace and feel warmed all over by him. He’d been rather daring, in his own way, trying to compliment her and holding her hands. Surely that wasn’t just friendly. It was notably different than his usual behavior. Perhaps she could test the waters and see.

“You know… I do think that warming charm on my coat is beginning to wear off.”

Ron’s eyebrows shot up high on his face, and his ears were beginning to turn a rosy hue.

“Well,” he said before roughly swallowing. “Well, you can share my coat if you like.”

Hermione quickly nodded, and he opened his coat wide for her to bury herself in. She slowly skimmed her hands along his sides before she wrapped her arms around his waist. Her face cuddled into his chest and she let a breath out as he closed in the side of his coat and wrapped his arms around her.

“I-Is that any better?” he asked, voice a bit husky.

“Much,” Hermione sighed. She knew she couldn’t keep doing this for long. She’d lied when she said her warming charm was wearing off. It was still going strong and she was already feeling a bit sweaty and overheated like this, and Ron would no doubt feel the heat from her coat soon. It was worth the physical discomfort, though, to be wrapped in his embrace like this.

The heat finally pushed her to let go of him. Even though he was so much taller than she, he was stooped so low his face was quite near hers. His face was flushed a deep pink, most likely from having a girl the temperature of a hot water bottle wrapped about him.

“I just remembered! I need some quills,” she lied, as she pulled herself away from him, not wanting to cause him further discomfort. ”Would you mind stopping by Scrivenshaft’s?”

“Wha— Er, yeah that’s fine,” he said, looking a bit glum.

“We can stop by some place more fun for you, if you like. I can put off the quills.”

“Naw, I’d probably just spend my pocket change on something stupid. Let’s get you some quills.”

They made their way down the road and Ron patiently waited as Hermione found herself new set of quills at Scrivenshaft’s. She’d dithered between a lovely set of minty green quills that was a little overpriced, or some more practical ones. Ron ended up waiting outside as she began chatting with a clerk about paper thickness and its effects on paper charms and hexes. She hadn’t made up her mind which set to buy when the lady behind the counter wrapped the nice quills in a colorful paper bag with a bow.

“Oh, no need to wrap that!” Hermione called out as the final flourish was added to the bow. “I hadn’t decided if I was going to indulge myself and buy them or not.”

“But it’s a gift!”

“What?”

The lady pointed to Ron who was casually leaning against the building. “He paid for it while you were chatting.”

They weren’t inexpensive quills, and Hermione felt prodigiously guilty that she’d made up the story of needing them in the first place. She’d only said that to more gracefully detach herself from Ron and not embarrass herself. She knew he didn’t have much money to spend on something like this.

As she opened the door, he gave her one of his lopsided smiles.

“All done?”

“Yes,” she smiled back before biting her lip. “You needn’t have paid for my quills, though.”

“I wanted to.”

“But, they were rather expensive and—”

“I know how much they cost. I bought them,” Ron said, brusquely cutting her off. His ears were red again. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll probably end up borrowing them and forgetting to return them. So it’s as much for you as it is for me.”

“Well…” He had a look on his face that clearly said she was treading into dangerous territory. “Alright then.”

He grinned back at her and she simpered before gripping the package close to her chest.

It felt a merry day until the skies opened and rain began to soak them through. Hermione had a small umbrella on hand that was most definitely not big enough for both of them. The umbrella did little to protect them from the wind whipping the rain into their sides, so they ran all the way to the Three Broomsticks. They both laughed as they entered the pub and found a table near the fire.

“Y’know, I think we got wetter trying to share the umbrella between us than if we’d just hoofed it,” Ron grinned as he unwrapped his wet scarf from around his neck. He hastily added, “not that it wasn’t appreciated.”

“I think you’re right, I’m soaked,” Hermione agreed with a laugh, wringing out her hair a bit. She gave a shudder as she took off her coat and the cold prickled at her, but a blast of warm air quickly drove the cold away. Ron had his wand out aimed directly at her.

“Oh! You musn’t use magic!” she admonished, looking around them to make sure no one had seen. “If you get caught you could get in loads of trouble!”

“I’m near enough to seventeen. If it were in front of muggles alarms would go off or something, but a place like this?”

“The Trace follows you everywhere!”

“Well… kind of,” Ron said with a shrug, ordering them two butterbeers and holding out her chair for her. “They can’t know WHO did magic in a place, only that it was done. Unless they were specifically looking for me, in a place buzzing with magic like this, it goes largely unnoticed. All my brothers were able to skate by with spells in Hogsmeade, so I’m not too fussed.”

“Well you still shouldn’t do it in a pub where anyone could see you,” she warned, looking about the patrons. Ron simply leaned back in his chair, his rangy legs stretched out so far they almost reached the other side of the long table.

“It’ll be fine. One of the few perks from having a hundred older brothers is you know which rules are a bit more flexible than others. You get to sit back, watch their mistakes, and mostly not repeat them.”

“No, you find all sorts of new mistakes they couldn’t even imagine,” she smirked, thinking back to their misadventures.

“Well if your brothers have already succeeded in every way,” said Ron, putting out a dramatic hand, “you might as well fail uniquely and spectacularly.”

He had a conspiratorial smile on his face.

“I’d say the Twins are taking that approach to school,” she added.

“Yeah. Guess they beat me to that too,” he laughed, though his smile didn’t seem to reach his eyes. “Not really any paths left to blaze.”

“You are blazing your own path though, Ron,” Hermione protested. “You’ve done loads.”

“Hmm,” he said with a doubtful look, before thanking Madame Rosmerta for the butterbeers, and taking a long draw from his mug.

Hermione thought back to Ginny’s advice to compliment Ron. This was a perfect set-up.

“Y’know, I think that Ravencl—” he began.

“You are very accomplished!” Hermione interrupted Ron, her face red.

“What?” he incredulously asked, eyebrows raised.

“I said you’re very accomplished.”

“Oh go on,” he laughed with dismissive hand wave before chugging down some more butter beer.

Well that hadn’t landed well at all! What was she supposed to do? Specifics! She should lay it out like one of her essays. She’d studied up on it the night before, but why was her mouth turning to cotton and her brain turning horribly blank on how to say it? She had actually written out a list for herself and had it stowed in her book bag. She never had a problem answering questions in class, but right now she had no ability to speak.

“One moment!” she said, leaning down to fish the list out from her book bag. It took little time to find the parchment. It was rather long and she’d stayed up late to make sure she covered her bases. “Here it is. See! You’ve done loads!”

On autopilot she handed it to Ron like turning in an essay to a teacher. The facts were all there, and she was rather proud to supply her evidence, all neatly outlined in her even script.

The moment he took it from her hand, though, panic crackled through her. She reached towards the parchment to wrench it back, but it was too late— he was already reading it.

“What is this?”

“Oh! Er…” She couldn’t possibly tell him why she had compiled the list. What was she thinking, bringing the list out for him to see? He’d either think she was mad, or never want to look at her again for fear she was a stalker.

“I just … It’s proof of your accomplishments… good attributes…” she mumbled, glancing up to see what his reaction was.

Ron’s usually expressive face was wildly unreadable as his eyes went back and forth over the parchment. His ears began to redden as he continued on, and he shifted in his seat to sit up quite straight, intently studying it.

She needed an excuse for writing it. In her panic it took a moment, but she finally had it.

“When you got your prefect badge, and the twins were making fun saying it was unexpected you’d gotten the badge—  I didn’t say anything to counter them, and I was feeling guilty about it, and wanted to let you know your good attributes and accomplishments. Perhaps it could have been a birthday gift. I shouldn’t have done it now… As you can see there’s a lot there…” she finished in a small voice. She stared at her lap unable to look up at him.

“You numbered them,” he said, bemused.

“Yes.”

“There’s a hundred and twenty three lines?”

“Yes… I know you must think I’m ridiculous for writing it all out but—”

His arms were suddenly around her, and she was pulled into a tight embrace. His cheek was pressed against the side of her forehead, and she could feel an almost imperceptible quake to his arms.

She’d never been hugged like this by him before, and was so stunned it took a moment for her to engage her arms and wrap them around his back. Had his chest always been so broad?

“Thank you,” he roughly whispered in her ear.

She nodded and leaned into his embrace further, closing her eyes.

“Oh, young love is it?” came a voice from behind them, startling them apart.

_______________________________________________________

Rita Skeeter stood at their table, looking bedraggled compared to the last time she’d bothered them. She’d always been overly polished and artificial— once the veneer was gone it wasn’t a pretty sight. Everything about her was chipped and worn looking, from her raggedy nails to her grubby raincoat.

“Harry and Luna should be joining us soon,” Hermione said, an imperious little look on her face. It was like her words willed Luna to appear, for the pale girl with the protuberant eyes worked her way through the crowded table to join them, a drink with a cocktail onion in her hand.

“Hello Ronald, I didn’t expect you here,” she smiled, staring at him with her grey eyes that just didn’t seem to blink as often as other people’s eyes. She was wearing a large woven poncho and her hair hung lankly from the rain. “It’s been perfect weather.”

“Er, I guess… If you like it when it’s bucketing down.”

“I do!” she said wringing out her poncho on the floor and getting some stares from local patrons as she flapped it in the air. Hermione had loudly started pulling out paperwork from her bag for Luna to look at, but Rita ignored everything. Instead she had out her acid green quill and had been scribbling away.

‘Harry Potter’s love life has taken a tragic turn as femme fatale Hermione Granger breaks his heart again, leaving him for his other, supposed, best friend Ronald Weasley. Weasley, who Potter valiantly saved in the heartrending second task of the Triwizard Tournament, was seen seducing Granger on an intimate date at the Three Broomsticks this Valentine’s Day. The two were entwined by the fireplace in an appalling display that left patrons gaping. One has to wonder how Harry could possibly forgive the two, the lanky ginger haired boy who has betrayed his friend, and the brunette who has broken his heart— ’

“Oi!” Ron cried out. “You can’t be writing claptrap like that about us.”

“You mean to say this wasn’t a romantic rendezvous between you and Little Miss Perfect.”

Ron opened and closed his mouth, unsure of how to respond. He looked to Hermione who was watching him just as avidly as Skeeter.

“We’re not the reason you’re here and aren’t your story. Harry is,” Ron managed, feeling quite proud of himself for such a diplomatic response. Hermione’s mouth was a hard line, but she began to nod.

“That’s right,” she added, looking away from Ron.

In short order, Harry arrived sans Cho, and the meeting was underway. Rita made her attempts to pry into his love life, but Hermione brilliantly shut it down and got the interview going in a trice. Ron couldn’t help but admire how she’d taken charge and put the horrid reporter in her place.

They sat nearby as Harry recounted what had happened the night of the Third Task. Every time he said Voldemort Ron felt a shiver go down his spine, but nothing left him quite as shaken as seeing the look on Harry’s face as he grimly talked about Cedric’s death and being tortured. He hated seeing his friend look so torn up and sporting such a far away sad look in his eye. He couldn’t look away though. If Harry had the guts to go through it and talk about it, the least Ron could do was sit and listen. Hermione’s eyes were filled with tears, but she wiped them away as soon as they appeared. Even Luna, who seemed to have a wandering attention span, was raptly watching the interview the whole time.

When it concluded Rita said a few acid comments to Hermione, but Hermione was beaming.

“Harry I’m so proud of you!” Hermione enthused once the reporter had left, giving Harry a hug. He feebly returned it.

“Well done, mate,” Ron added, clapping a pale Harry on the shoulder.

“It was nearly as powerful as that lovely article about the Crumple-Horned Snorkacks,” said Luna. She went off a bit about how she didn’t know when the article would be released, as the Snorkack article might take precedence. Ron vaguely knew Mr Lovegood, and had a feeling even someone as dotty as Luna’s dad would know he had a story worth galleons.

They walked out the door to find the rain had stopped.

“Oh what a terrible change in the weather…  I was hoping to walk in it a bit more. It’s supposed to be a good cure for nargles,” Luna said vaguely before skipping off humming Ron’s least favorite song, ‘Weasley is Our King.’ In all the excitement, he’d forgotten about his ill-fated Quidditch tenure.

Harry gave a sigh, which brought Ron back to the moment.

“Want to head back to the castle?” Ron asked him. He knew it didn’t do much good to ask Harry directly how he was holding up.

“Yeah… You don’t have to though.”

That was Harry’s way of saying he wanted alone time.

“We’ll come with you,” Hermione said earnestly. Ron put a hand to her elbow, and gave her a look. She seemed to understand him and gave a small almost imperceptible nod. “But I do need to… to stop by the quill shop… Perhaps we can meet you in a bit at the castle?”

“Yeah, that’s fine. I’ll catch you at dinner,” Harry rattled off looking relieved before walking away towards the castle, hands in his pockets. Dinner wasn’t for another three hours at least. This one had hit Harry hard. Ron would have to get something to distract Harry when he checked on him.

“Let’s get him some sweets from Honeyduke’s,” said Ron, leading them to the shop and giving Hermione a teasing look. “‘Need to stop by the quill shop.’ You’re lucky Harry didn’t notice your sack from Scrivenshaft’s.”

Hermione gave a nervous laugh before biting her lip.

“Are you sure he needs space?”

“Positive.”

“‘Catch you at dinner,’ he says’” Hermione huffed. “Dinner is not for another three hours! It just seems an awfully long time to put off having company after going through something so difficult. You saw the look on his face having to live through it all again… It was clearly traumatizing. If it weren’t so necessary I would feel even worse for asking him to do it.”

“Don’t worry about it. He’s made of stern stuff,” Ron said with more confidence than he felt. “We’ll get him some sweets to tithe him over, then he’ll feel loads better when the article comes out and people are on his side again.”

“You really think this will work?”

“Of course it will! It was a brilliant idea,” Ron nodded. “And you handled Skeeter perfectly.”

Hermione was smiling at him and he felt the tinge of nerves from earlier come back.

“You handled her pretty well yourself,” she said a bit tightly.

“Yeah? Well…” he said putting a hand to the back of his neck. “Didn’t want her to get things sideways like she does…”

“Would it have been sideways to write that we were on a date though?”

His ears were on fire. His throat was so unable to produce sound he might as well have been twisted like a towel getting wrung out. Her eyes were boring into him, studying him as thoroughly as she did any tome.

“I… I said ‘it’s a date’ when I asked you to come to Hogsmeade,” he said testing the waters.

“But that’s a common expression, and I wasn’t sure if you meant it in the colloquial way, or if you meant it as a formal invitation,” she persisted. “Was-was this a date?”

“Well… to be honest…” But could he be? Could he tell her he fancied her? That her kiss on his cheek earlier that year had meant more to him than any other touch he’d felt in his life? That she smelled so good? That she made him actually look forward to studying because it meant more time with her? That she powered his Patronus more consistently than anything else? “To be honest, I’ve been wondering the same thing myself.”

“You’re the one who asked me!” said Hermione, throwing her hands in exasperation.

“Well which did you want it to be?” Ron asked, making a last ditch effort to know how she felt.

Her face turned scarlet. “Just answer the question!”  

How come he had to be the one to lay everything on the line? He’d taken loads of risks already. He’d asked her out, he’d initiated some cuddling and hand-holding, he’d bought her a nice gift, held her chair out and done a drying charm when she was cold. He’d put himself out there fairly boldly… And if he’d misread this whole thing he wasn’t sure what the repercussions could be. Would the awkwardness dash their friendship to ribbons? Would she laugh at him for daring to think she’d like a nobody like him?

“If you are the one inviting a person out,” she began to lecture, “then you know which way you meant it when you said ‘it’s a date!’ That’s the basic structure of invitations, which you seem unable to grasp!”

“I just don’t want to ruin everything!”

“Oh, you’ve ruined plenty already!” Hermione snapped.

“Have it your way, then. I guess I just ruin everything.”

Ron stomped off to use his last few knuts to buy Harry some chocolate, but stopped to look back.

“You coming?” he growled at her.

Hermione petulantly looked away, but seemed to change her mind. Her hair had lost some of its sleekness and was bouncing in its usual wild fashion as she ran at him. He hopefully raised his arms out to catch her, and  let out an ‘oof’ as she forcibly shoved the bag of quills into his stomach.

“Keep them!” she spat before tearing off for the castle, leaving a flabberghasted Ron in her wake.

_______________________________________________________

Hermione stormed her way to the castle and had to restrain herself from hexing a couple out of her way as they slowly ambled with their hands entwined. That was supposed to be her and Ron! Or was it? They were at this ridiculous impasse where he just wouldn’t tell her if all those little moments that meant so much to her were just friendship or something more. He’d been so sweet, and thoughtful, and bought her a lovely gift… And she’d shoved it right back at him…

“Oh well done, Hermione,” she cursed herself once she was finally alone in her dormitory.

She wasn’t even sure why she’d done it. He was just being so infuriatingly evasive, and she’d just snapped. She’d needed an answer. She’d needed to know without risking her pride being hurt. Maybe she’d have a chance to mend things at dinner. Ron wouldn’t abandon Harry after the hard day he’d had recounting the Third Task and that terrible graveyard. He could act as a buffer and they’d get back to an uneasy truce of some sort.

It took a while to calm her nerves and head downstairs to wait for the boys to come down. She sat beside the fire trying to translate her ancient runes poem, but found it impossible to concentrate.  Would Ron even want to look at her? Would he have told Harry about her losing her temper demanding he declare it a date? She worried her lip until She gave a hiss and put her hand to her lip. She winced in pain and tasted a hint of blood.

“Hey. Seen Ron?”

She looked up to see Harry standing there looking peaked. She’d ruined Valentine’s Day for all three of them it seemed.

“Not since Hogsmeade, no,” she said, rolling up her parchment. “Did you want to get some dinner?”

“Oh… I guess…” Harry said with no enthusiasm at all. He looked about the room. She knew that look. He didn’t want her company; he wanted Ron. This was nothing new. Whenever Harry was down he immediately started looking around for Ron to cheer him up. Hermione couldn’t begrudge him doing this; she felt the exact same way. She and Harry got along very well of course, and she quite enjoyed his company, but neither of them were exactly the cheery sort. They were good at working out problems together, but just sitting and living their lives together? Having a good time? That was a bit more strained when they weren’t united with an actual purpose driving their conversation.

“Well let’s get some food. Where there’s food there’s usually Ron, right?” she asked, trying to bolster her spirits as much as Harry’s.

“Yeah… Right,” Harry said with a small smile.

But Ron wasn’t there. They each barely touched their food as they looked about for Ron and he was nowhere to be found as dinner came and passed. They finally gave up and went back to Gryffindor Tower.

“Are you quote sure he didn’t make his way to the dorm while you were there?”

“Er, well I was napping for a bit there, so maybe,” Harry replied.

He still looked exhausted and quickly withdrew to his dormitory, leaving Hermione by herself again. She sat by the fireplace again waiting for him, and it wasn’t until well past curfew when she heard the click of the portrait hole. Ron trudged through the portrait hole, his broom in hand, a miserable look on his face.

She moved from her chair and he gave a startle, nearly dropping his broom.

“Blimey, Hermione! You nearly gave me a heart attack!” he hoarsely let out. He was wet through and his boots were covered in mud.

“Where have you been?”

He looked to his broom then back to her with a quizzical look on his face.

“Fine… Why didn’t you come back for dinner? Harry was still really upset and could have used you here for moral support,” she said, her chin held aloft.

“I wasn’t hungry, and needed to get in some practice,” he said meeting her gaze, before dropping it. “I’ll check in on him in the morning and make sure he’s sorted, so don’t worry about it.”

“You shouldn’t skip meals.”

“Of the three of us, I’m the one who does it the least,” he said, voice tight. An edge filled silence choked them both.

“Well… It’s late, and I need to clean myself up…” Ron said after a beat. “See you at breakfast?”

“Alright…” she replied, cheeks beginning to burn.

His trainers squelched with every step he took as he headed towards his dorm. He had already taken a few of the steps, two at a time as usual, when he stopped his path.

“Hermione…” How was it he could say her name and it made her pulse quicken. “About Hogsmeade…”

She couldn’t bare it. He was going to reveal he cared nothing for her! That in her lonely desperation she’d somehow wildly extrapolated he liked her as more as a friend. She couldn’t hear him say the words. It’d make it too real.

“Don’t worry about it,” she cut him off. “I’ll see you both at breakfast.”

She retreated to her dormitory with such haste she was a bit out of breath by the time she reached her fourposter. She wanted to sob into her pillow, but refused to let herself, for fear of Lavender and Parvati hearing about it and reporting it to everyone around them. No. She’d never tell a soul that her dreams had been dashed; that she’d sabotaged a perfectly lovely time. Even if Ron had thought of her as a potential date, he’d never think of her that way now.

The next morning Ginny made her inquiries of how Hogsmeade was and Hermione forced a smile onto her face.

“We had a good time!” she said with forced lightness. Ginny raised her eyebrows, uncannily reminding her of Ron. She looked like she was about to question Hermione further, but with heavy thump Ron and Harry through themselves onto the bench across from Hermione.

Harry was looking remarkably better than he had the previous day. All he needed was a good dose of Ron’s company.

“Alright?” Ron asked, looking between her and Ginny.

“Of course,” Hermione said, taking a large gulp of orange juice. Ginny was called away by some of her friends, but gave her a look that clearly said ‘we have a lot to discuss’ as she left.

They ate their breakfasts and if there was any tension to be seen between Hermione and Ron, Harry seemed oblivious as he laughed about the state of Skeeter with Ron, and pointedly ignored the Ravenclaw table where Cho Chang was staring at his back.

As they rose to go to their first class, Ron pushed a small box across to Hermione. It had a bit of mud on it, but otherwise it was still the same beautiful pristine box of mint green quills he’d bought her.

“Thought you might want these before class.”

He was keenly looking at her. Sometimes she thought of Ron as quite clueless, but then he’d look at her like this and she’d feel utterly naked and seen. His blue eyes were looking right through her, surely.

“Thank you,” she let out, a bit breathless.

“What’s that?” Harry asked.

“Nothing!” They simultaneously replied, even though it was everything.

[iwhumpyou]

A joined-fate pair where the protagonist offers/threatnes to kill themself to defeat the antag. Do with this what you will 😉

It’s like you live in my mind, anon.  Here, have an early (and I mean early, this is ancient, this is before I knew what whump was, this is before I knew what hurt/comfort was, this is back when I had daydreams and I didn’t divide them into universes and characters and all that jazz, back when I thought this was going to be just one scene in an actual novel about things other than whump) whump scene for Kyran.  

This isn’t going to be exactly joined-fate, more like one life for another.  (I have an idea for an actual joined-fate pair but I wrote three-fourths of this before I got that idea.)  

Just a warning - Kyran doesn’t offer.  And he considers threatening far too mainstream.  😈

(Also, I love how you say ‘do with this what you will’, like there’s any other option than me running to go write 2k words of a new story.)  (Also, going to be part 1 of an arc because this ran away from me and straight into hell.)

Masterlist.  Kyran.

~#~#~#~#~#~

Rae snarled at Zane, all the horrible things she could thinkof, all the ways she wanted him to die slowly and painfully.

The gag muffled most of it, but Zane’s grin showed that he got the generalgist.

“My, my, you have a temper, little sister,” he laughed,turning back to the table and the grimoire on it, “Just be patient for a littlewhile longer.  Your wait is almost over.”

“Yes, it is.”

Zane startled, turning to see the newcomer but Rae wasalready exhaling in relief, twisting in her bounds to see Kyran saunteringforward with an easy grin.  Gabrielstalked after him, a dark scowl on his face – one that shifted to murderouswhen he caught sight of her – and Lilith and Adam brought up the rear. 

“Gabriel,” Zane smiled, “You’re a bit early to the show,dear, but I don’t mind – I have plenty of things to keep you busy.”  He flicked a hand and forms rose from theearth, shadowy and misshapen, but lumbering forward with intent.

“There isn’t going to be a show,” Kyran said calmly, as Gabriel charged at his former lover.  Kyran moved to her as Gabriel engaged Zane, two swords clashing with a clamor.

The gag he removed easily, but the bonds weren’t that simple and she heard him curse as he fumbled with them.  Zane was driving Gabriel back - Rae adored her brother, but he was no match against the prince of angels.  Lilith and Adam were having enough difficulty against the shadow creatures.

Rae felt cold - this was a trap.�� The rune circle she knelt on needed sacrifices and they’d just delivered five of them to him.  One monster was bad enough, but Zane with the ability to raise five creatures from the dead and bind them to his will?  

“It’s a trap,” she hissed at Kyran, “You need to get them all out of here.”

“Admirable,” Kyran said, his voice clipped and flat, “But I’m not leaving without you.”

“You don’t understand!” she said louder, “He’s going to kill us all!  With his pick of five dead warriors, he will rule the world!  You need to get out.”

“Rae, there have been enough monsters throughout history that even if he raises one we’re all doomed,” he said, “He needs to be stopped.  This rune circle will implode if I try to tamper with it, which means I need to get you out first.  Stop struggling!”

Gabriel fell back with a cry and Rae snapped her gaze to the fight as Zane smiled and started towards them again.  Lilith tried to get to Gabriel but the shadow creatures cut her off.  She couldn’t see where Adam went.

“Look at the little demon, trying so hard to save his friends,” Zane laughed.  His pace was slow and casual as he approached them.

“You should’ve been smothered at birth,” Rae snarled at him, “You’re a poison that’s infected our people!”

“Ouch,” Zane stumbled a step back and pretended to look hurt, “I had no idea you thought so low of me, little sister.”

“I am not your little sister!” Rae almost-screamed, and Kyran’s frantic movements behind her stilled for a second.

“Whatever you wish,” Zane said, advancing on them, “You’ll be dead soon enough, and your friends will share your fate.  Who shall I raise first, I wonder?”

And then he froze.  As did Rae, still as a statue against the blade at her neck.

“I’ve picked up things here and there on resurrection,” Kyran said, his breath heavy on her ear, “And one thing that was always clear is that the one who makes the sacrifice is the one that calls the dead.”

“Kyran!” Lilith shouted, her voice frantic.  Kyran ignored her, and Gabriel, who was getting to his feet with a look of horror.

“You wouldn’t,” Zane said, trying for nonchalant, but Rae could see his knuckles turn white with his grip on his sword.

“I’m a demon,” Kyran snarled, and the blade dug in a little deeper, “We look out for our self-interest, remember?”

Rae didn’t say a word.  Zane looked at them, and she could see his rage at being denied his easy victory.

“No,” Zane said again, slowly, “No, I’ll call your bluff.  You wouldn’t hurt any of them.  They’re your friends.”  He spat out the word like it was a curse.  He started forward, and the blade wavered.

“Kyran,” Rae said quietly, and that was enough to jolt him into action.

“You’re right,” Kyran said, withdrawing the blade.  She twisted to look at him and saw a thoughtful expression on his face, like he was trying to add up something to make sure it was right.  “I wouldn’t hurt them.”

His gaze focused on her and he smiled and Rae went cold because that smile looked a lot like surrender.

He brought the blade up again and slashed his own throat.

“KYRAN!” Two different voices screamed but Rae could only watch in shock as Kyran gasped, his hand moving to his throat, as if to catch the blood that was gushing out.

Demons weren’t immortal.  Their healing abilities had limits.  And Kyran had cut deep.

“E-Elizabeth,” he choked out and Rae leaned closer.  He couldn’t have.  He didn’t.  “Rayleigh,” he said, his hand spasming.  It was covered with blood.  Everything was covered with blood.  Everything was blood.  “Princess of angels.”

He fell, limp, hitting the ground with a soft thud.  Blood began to leak out faster and his eyes were dull.  Rae knew what that meant.  She knew.  But she refused to accept it.  

He couldn’t.  He didn’t.  It - it was an illusion, a trick, some sort of game.  Demons loved their games.  It - it had to be a game, Kyran wouldn’t do this, Kyran wouldn’t -

‘Wouldn’t sacrifice himself for his friends?’  something whispered in the back of her head and Rae shuddered because Kyran would’ve done far more than that for them.  Had done far more than that.

But it was a trick - demons, demons healed, they healed from near everything, surely a slashed throat wouldn’t -

The knife Kyran had dropped gleamed off-silver and Rae swallowed back bile.  It was blessed steel.

She looked at Kyran again, and there was no light in his eyes.  Blood poured from his throat, a jagged slash that wasn’t closing.  He wasn’t moving.

Behind her, Zane started laughing.  “I have to admit, I was almost worried,” the prince of angels chuckled, “What did he try to raise - a cockroach?  Or did he even get a chance to say a name before he died?”

Rae felt her eyes burn, felt tears spill over onto her cheeks. Elizabeth Rayleigh, princess of angels.  With his last dying breath, Kyran sought to raise the one person who might be on their side, no questions asked.

“Pathetic,” Zane said, and Rae turned to glare at him through her tears.  “Guess that means I can only raise four people from the dead.”  Zane took a step closer to her, but Gabriel had gotten back on his feet and he attacked again.

Rae ignored the sounds of their battle and tried to reach a hand out to Kyran but her bonds were too tight.  “You idiot,” she said, voice cracking, “You idiot - why, why would you do that?  You stupid - you fool.”  She sobbed, slumping in her bonds, because she couldn’t reach him, she could only sit here, the blood beginning to stain her knees, too far to touch him but close enough to see every detail of that awful wound.

There was a cry behind her but she didn’t turn.  She didn’t know if it was Gabriel or Zane.  She didn’t know if Lilith had fallen to the shadow monsters, if Adam had.

They were all going to die here, she thought bleakly, and strangely enough, the thought made her feel a little better.  She would have to live with this grief for only minutes more.  She wouldn’t have to watch the world burn.

He should have scratched out the runes, even if that meant her death.  Kyran and Gabriel working together could’ve beaten Zane.

Rae stared listlessly at Kyran’s body, lost in her own thoughts, so it took her a long moment to realize that his blood…was not behaving like blood normally did.

It had stopped spreading outward in an ever-growing puddle.  In fact, it was starting to be sucked inwards, to a point to the left of Rae - a point that she had a feeling was the center of the rune circle she was bound in.

She watched in silence, frozen to the spot by more than chains, as the blood bubbled up, higher and higher, turning from red to white and pink and silver and gold as it formed human feet and legs and arms.

Kyran hadn’t failed.

Elizabeth Rayleigh, princess of angels.

Elizabeth, long-dead by Kyran’s hand, opened her eyes.

~#~

TBC.

[xiubaek-13]

The Masks of Destiny - Prologue

Pairing: None. Story is Monsta X + OC, but there is no romantic pairing.

Warnings: Not much in this prologue. Mentions of hell, inciting violence, questionable morals.

Word Count:  2,645

Genre: Fantasy, Dungeons and Dragons inspired world. Also, pirates.

Summary: Brought together in the town of Luskan, seven adventurers meet in the local tavern, The Cutlass, on the seventh night of the new moon as requested. They meet with Celaena, an infamous pirate captain who informs them of the concerning matters at hand. Unbeknownst to them, they have been watched since they arrived in the port. A mysterious traveller watches from the shadows, biding their time.

Prologue: Told from the perspective of the mysterious traveller.

***

In the depths of the Forgotten Realms your adventure begins. A candle illuminates an aged window on the bottom floor of The Cutlass tavern. It wouldn’t have been your first choice of venue but apparently your benefactor thought popular meant good. The place was falling apart, large chunks of rotting wood made you question the structural integrity of the place. And it smelled like booze, loose lips and vomit. Even the steady falling of rain outside couldn’t mask that smell. Gods you hated pirate towns.

You sat in the corner, out of the way and out of view of most of the patrons. With your cowl and hood covering most of your face you were able to sit back and observe, a task you were exceedingly good at. You were here to complete a mission. A mission that you felt was beneath you but you weren’t about to be the one to question Grazz’t, only an idiot would do that and think it was going to go well for them.

The demon lord was not to be trifled with. Many forgot that he was one of the few to rule over multiple realms in the Abyss, and had done so for centuries, unchallenged. Just because he didn’t appear like your typical demon did not mean that you should speak freely in his presence. He was always adorned in finery, everything about him was designed to draw you in, to make you susceptible to his charms. Rather, it was the opposite. You’d learned quickly to choose your words wisely with him. He was more skilled than any politician when it came to making deals and twisting words, hell he even manipulated other demons to keep himself amused. He enjoyed making you think that you’d bested him, gaining the upper hand in a deal only for him to lay all of his cards on the table at the last moment, showing you just how fucked you were.

This made some think that he wasn’t to be feared in combat. They were wrong. He won’t kill with brute force but he’ll turn you against your allies and force you to kill them before killing you himself. He was the ultimate tactician and manipulator and you were one of his best students.

Being one of his best was why you felt this task was beneath you. Your instructions were straight forward enough, follow the party, gain their trust, join them and sabotage their mission without them knowing. It was a mission that any acolyte could complete. There was something more at play here, there always was when Grazz’t delivered missions to you personally. The glint in his eye had hinted at it. Until you worked out what the ulterior motive was, you watched your marks.

This kind of mission should have gone to your sister Calaena, and would have if she’d been smart enough to serve Grazz’t. She didn’t have as much hatred for do gooders as you did. Your past experiences spoke for themselves and you learned from them. ‘Heroes’ were never to be trusted. Your sister and you had very different upbringings, you were always the perfect evil child while she was only ever half in on it. Her heart wasn’t as dark as yours and she was far more aloof. She would never serve a higher power, only herself. In some ways you envied her, especially when you were serving Lilith but once you had your exodus from the Underdark and found yourself in the servitude of Grazz’t you found a new purpose in life. A chaotic evil purpose. It pleased your dark and twisted little heart. Caleana had other ideas for herself once she escaped, commandeering a ship that she felt befit her and set sail. She was infamous as a master pirate thief. You never sought the infamy or recognition. All you strived for was the thrill of destroying those who thought they could make a difference. How naive they were. Dragons ruled this land for centuries for a reason.

***

Morons you think to yourself as you watch five adventurers make no effort to divert attention from their presence. There are two others in their group but at least the rogue and druid have the decency to avoid being the centre of attention. It was as though they were asking for the attention of everyone in the tavern, something that you would never do. You work in the shadows, unseen and unheard.

You turn your focus back to the troupe as you continue your assessment of each party member. At least this group was diverse.  Sipping his ale and telling tales of the war is a tall and broad man, must be human. It didn’t matter where in the realm you were, there was always a fucking human. Why is it always a soldier? Do their armies not keep them loyal so the defect and set their own agenda? Almost every human you encounter has the same story, something about strength and purpose and a razed village, helping on a small scale or a sick relative. How boring. He should be easy to manipulate. Humans were prone to strong emotional reactions and illogical tactics.

The second being is a little surprising, if you were less skilled you would have picked him as the muscle of the group but the pouch of runes and herbs by his side and the Morningstar resting against his leg tell you he is a divine healer of sorts. This one requires a more in depth look, you recognise the slight shimmer around him as a glamour, one that is hiding more about him. You catch a glimpse of his ruby red eyes and wonder what he is. He seems quiet, gambling like he has no understanding of the game that he’s playing. Divine healers tend to serve a God and could usually sense evil. He was one you would clash with the most. You’d be wary of hiding your true nature from him lest he try to save you. The wide berth people were giving his back makes you think that his glamour is hiding either an object kept behind him, or wings. You kind of hoped that he was one of the sky people, for you had not encountered one of those yet. A feather from one of those wings would be worth more than its weight in gold.

Long blonde hair, a quiver full of arrows and a bow slung over his shoulder. You grimace at the pointed ears, recognising the wood elf quickly. Putting your kind’s history with the elves aside, this one was no doubt a ranger. They’re usually too perceptive for their own good but this one seems to be fully engrossed in dice games so at this stage you’re not concerned about him. He is different to the other elf rangers you’ve encountered in the past. They were all quiet, observing types, whereas this one is currently growling at the pirate who just beat him at their game. It’s almost animalistic but also childlike in its quality. It’s as though he was raised outside of an elven community. Something to delve into at a later date.  

The last 4 additions are interesting to say the least. A changeling was always irritating, slipping their skin constantly, chameleons of personality. Why this one felt the need to also be a bard on top of that makes you unreasonably irritated, you just hope he doesn’t have a familiar too. He seems a little over the top and manic as he holds the attention of a crowd of pirates, weaving a fine tale about the rescue of a mystical wolf. He’s good, you’ll give him that. Further down the table the human chuckles and shakes his head at the bard’s epic tale. As good as he is, you can’t help but feel like there is something off about him, something you can’t quite put your finger on yet.

Tieflings are always a wild card, even more so when they have magical abilities. No matter how small, there is always a part of them that is demonic. They can never be wholly ‘good’ no matter how hard they try. Society would never believe that someone who looks they way a Tiefling does – horns, tail, elongated canines, solid eye colour and otherworldly skin tone – could be divine in nature. The one seated at the bar has rather small horns for his kind, his skin a very pale blue hue, and his eyes are solid gold. There is no point in using magic to hide his tail, and the pirates don’t seem to care. They are far more interested in the man himself, some speaking as though they have a history with him. It was rare to see a Tiefling so at ease with the people around it. You spot the scar on his throat, and catch a glimpse on similar markings on his wrists. Slave you think to yourself.

The autumnal Eladrin was more concerned with his surroundings than the people in them, staring off into the middle distance when a thought captures his attention. You feel similarly about him as you do the elf. Neither have a good history with your kind but spotting the druid makes one part of your travels here considerably clearer. It should be the middle of summer, it was until two nights ago, but when you had woken up the world was suddenly in the middle of autumn. At least you now understand what had happened. He held a quarterstaff and had odd runic shapes decorating his arms, usually common for a forest druid. As long as you refrained from harming nature when he was around he shouldn’t pose too much of a threat to you.

The one that you need to watch the most is the last member of this rag tag group. He is dressed similarly to you, all black with a hood and cowl, daggers visible because you know where to look for them. He is observant, eyes assessing the room, lingering over you for a moment before continuing to scan the crowd. There is no doubt in your mind of what his role is, like recognises like after all, but he has another agenda. A fellow rogue always makes things interesting. He’s sitting away from the rest of the group, half hidden by shadow as he watches the bar. If he’s any good he’s already assessed routes to the exits and identified the marks that are likely to cause their party harm. He’s probably found exits for all of them unlike you, who only has to look out for yourself.

He leans in towards the pirate captain who sits beside him and smirks, muttering something that makes the captains eyes widen so much that they almost threaten to fall out of his head. He slides a handful of coin to the rogue before hastily departing. The actions don’t mark him as a textbook thief or assassin to you, it seems like he deals more in information.  The pale skin, black hair and black eyes let you know that he is a Shadar-Kai, a race not unlike your own, but cunning, sneaky and highly skilled. Under different circumstances you might get along with him but you would have to mislead and fool him if you were going to succeed in your mission.

And you had every intention of succeeding. Now that you’ve completed your initial assessment of your marks, you figure there is no better time than now to test them. It was one thing to observe how they act on a night off, but it was a whole different thing to observe them when presented with the opportunity to fight. Not a planned fight either, not something they could prepare for. You find that a decent bar brawl never fails to show you someone’s true colours.

Pirates are almost always ready to throw down, drunken pirates even more so. They’ll throw more than punches too, things have a tendency of escalating quickly when there’s pirates involved, a fact that you are more than happy with at this moment in time. You grin to yourself at how easy it will be to get this altercation underway.  You murmur to the man at the table next to you that the large, dim witted pirate near the bar keeps giving him the stink eye and that you’d even heard him tell the barkeep that only impotent men were bald.  

Leaving him to seethe and mutter about how he’ll make the big man regret his words you start to duck and weave through the crowd as you make your way towards the bar, stopping only to tap a large brute of a man on the arm. You draw your hood back, revealing your long white hair, pointed ears and dark skin – the tone changing depending on the light (right now it is a lovely shade of greyish purple) but it could range between obsidian to hues of blue and purple with greys in between. He turns angrily, ready to yell at whoever touched him but when he spots you he takes pause.

“You look like the strongest man here.” You smile sweetly up at the man, angling yourself towards him so that only he can hear what you say to him.

He puffs his chest and beams down at you. “Well little lady, yer lookin at the champion arm wrestler in these parts. So not only do I look the strongest, I is.”  He flexes his arms for good measure and honestly, he does look like he has the strength of ten men, it’s why you chose him.

You let your features shift into confusion. “See I thought that you looked like a strong man but that guy over by the window, the bald one laughing with the two bandits, he said he’s the strongest in the realm.”

You barely finish your sentence before the man in front of you starts to seethe. “Oh does he?!” He exclaims, cracking his knuckles and doing a few minor stretches, all good signs that your plan is working.

Nodding you reply. “He does, I’ve heard him tell so many people but I don’t think I believe him. How could he be stronger than you?” You gesture at the man standing before you, pointing to his muscles and then wave dismissively at the unsuspecting man in the corner.

The man hands his ale to you. “Wouldya mind holding me drink for a sec little lady?” You don’t exactly get a chance to accept or deny his request before his drink is in your hands and he is marching off to the other end of the room. You set it down on the table nearest to you and continue to move through the crowd until you are at the other end of the tavern, at a table with the perfect view of the mayhem that is poised to unfold. You chose this seat for its view but also because it’s next to an open window should you need to make a quick getaway.

No words are spoken, you thought there might be a challenge or a threat but instead the big man simply punches the bald man in the face then throws him across the room. The sudden moment of violence is all the tavern needs before cacophony erupts. Pirates start yelling and fighting, furniture is smashed and thrown, and anything and everything is suddenly a weapon.

With their pleasant evening ruined, the party find themselves in the middle of a bar brawl in a pirate bar.  How they manage themselves now is going to be very helpful for you. You smile to yourself as they exchange a few quick looks at each other, speak two words then disperse into the fray.

Everything is going to plan.

A/N: Let me know what you think so far. What do you want to know more about? What do you think will happen? I’m trying not to bombard you with lore but if you want to know more about certain aspect of the characters or the world, please ask me! I’m trying something different so hopefully you enjoy it.

[entomjinx]

Innocence and a Death Wish

Prompt:You can't die. Please don't die.

(Warning: The emotion train can't pick a track to stay on. Be cautious of possible derailment. Also, this has elements from another story I’m writing[actually, many of my one shots do, but whatever], so it’s a really weird AU)

This was it. This was the end of everything that had happened. He felt his magic build up along side Natsu's. He felt the fire and ice intertwine as it headed straight for the famed Black wizard. The powerful slaying magic spells ripped through him like a hot knife through butter, and every trace of his magic began to dissipate. They walked over to his fallen body as seals appeared across him. They dissolved themselves off of him, peaking the curiosity of the ice mage.

After searching his memories, he recognized several of the runes that made up the seals, and Zeref began to speak. It wasn't the deep voice full of hatred he'd heard all the other times, but instead, a calm, almost childish voice, "Thank you. Thank you thank you thank you thank you!" There were tears streaming down the dark mage's face, "I spent so long, so long, under Ankhseram's control. I don't want to hurt anyone anymore. " Several others had made their way over to listen, shocked at the revelation of Zeref's... innocence?

"You were... being controlled." Gray muttered. He couldn't believe it. The person he and most of the world had villainized their entire lives was the victim, not the enemy. Natsu grasped his arm, sensing Gray's discomfort immediately. The ice mage shot him a grateful glance.

"I'm not the only person Ankhseram wanted, though. That's why I built Eclipse." Zeref said quietly, "I sent them into the future to keep them safe, but it didn't work quite as well as I wanted it to. One of them was captured by another group of people, but now that I'm free it shouldn't be any trouble getting him out of there."

"The dragon slayers came from four hundred years ago." Gray realized. He turned to Natsu, but the pinkette looked just as shocked as he was.

"I had to seal away all of their memories as well," If it were possible, Zeref looked even more upset, "Hell, we were all so little. He tilted his head towards Wendy, and the people standing around her instinctively got closer, "You were just two." His turned his head back to the sky and glared at it, "Ankhseram is such a bitch."

By this point, the enormous hole in his chest had healed, and he sat up weakly. "If you want me to, I can re-purpose all of the Etherous I created to help us, or I can shut them down. Either is fine by me." Everyone continued to stare, shocked by the amount of humanity behind the darkest mage in history.

"I'm sorry." The words had come from Erza, and while they were sincere, there was also bubbling rage along side it, " But I cannot forgive someone who created something like the Tower or Heaven." She pointed one of her many swords directly at him, shooting it forward with her magic, but Zeref caught the blade between his palms like a child would a ball.

"I never used the Tower of Heaven," He said honestly. "I scrapped the idea as soon as I realized it would require more people to die. As a matter of fact, the instructions I left attached to it were incomplete in a way that would harm the person doing the spell and no one else." The sword stopped trying to move forward as his words began to reach the redhead. "Not to mention I was only five at the time, and I had a reason for want to build something with the ability to bring back the dead. If you want me to, I'll tell you the entire story, but I must warn you that it isn't very pleasant."

The entire area had gone quiet, and master Makarov decided it was time for him to take the initiative, " I believe we'd all benefit from hearing the truth." Zeref nodded, and they all gathered in what was left of the Fairy Tail guild hall.

"Four hundred and thirty some years ago," Zeref began quietly, "The dragons split into two factions. One of them hated humans with a passion, and he and his followers with to commit genocide on the entire race. The other group loved the humans and everything about them. They only wished great things upon us, and several devoted their lives to teaching the humans about all they could. In a clash between the two factions, a small village was destroyed. There were only three casualties. A couple who had stayed behind to wrap the wound of a fallen dragon made up two of them." He paused with a distant look on his face, waiting for the information to sink in before he continued, "There were three others who stayed behind with them. Those three were their children. The older two were four, almost five, and the youngest had just turned three. The youngest ran out in front of the blast, not realizing that it wouldn't be enough."

Most of the mages gasped, while others looked at him in horror. "The three of them died there, but the fallen dragon was able to save their bodies from being completely destroyed. He was a young dragon, barley ten years old, so I don't blame him for not being able to save my youngest brother. It wasn't his fault, even if I believed it was for a long time."

"For the next year, my twin and I came up with the idea of Heaven's Tower, but we scrapped it when we realized it wouldn't work. we struggled to come up with something that would give us back our precious brother, if not our parents along with him. About a month after that, we found a spell in our old family spell book. It was incomplete, and would most likely kill us, but we didn't realize that at the time. We agreed, or rather I told him, that I would be taking all of the rebound for the spell, and we went through with it."

"The spell caused Ankhseram himself to appear. When he looked into my eyes, I knew we had made a mistake. He asked if I was the one to summon him, and when I nodded, he appeared shocked. 'You're just a child.' he told me, 'What business could you have with the god of death?' At this point Larcade had slipped out of the room. I didn't want him to get caught up in any of it. It took a long time, but after a while, I managed to convince him to teach me how to bring back my little brother."

"With in the next few months, I had created eclipse, and I found all of the people Ankhseram had wanted me to, and I broke my promise. I sent them as far as my magic would allow me to, and I hid them from his view. After he realized I'd betrayed him, he took over my body and used me like a puppet to cause destruction. He didn't realize that five of the six people I sent, I had sent somewhere he wouldn't be able to reach anyways. After all, the dragons are very protective of those they consider their children."

A small smile had made it's way into the Black Wizard's face, "My twin is the one that's in captivity like three countries over. He's a bit of an idiot." A few laughs escaped the mages who were not as afraid of Zeref, "And the other five are all in this room."

While Erza still didn't trust him, most of her direct hatred had disappeared. There was a question she wanted to ask though, "If you got your youngest brother back, than didn't you send him into the future as well?"

Zeref nodded, "The older brother of the dragon my parents saved offered to take him in, which is where I got the idea to include the dragon anyways." Several of the mages glanced between the "Twin dragons" of Sabertooth, Kurogane Gajeel, and Fairy Tail's Salamander, choosing to linger on Gajeel most of all. When Zeref noticed, he burst out laughing, "I've called him 'precious' before, do you really think it's that asshole? No offence, Gajeel."

Gajeel looked slightly startled, but he replied anyways, "None taken."

Zeref pulled the locket off his neck and tossed it to Erza. "Open it." He tilted his head when he smiled, and suddenly the resemblance hit everyone in the room like a truck. When the locket popped open, Erza found herself to be correct. Inside was was a photo of two nearly identical people, one having white hair, the other black, and in between them was a small, smiling pinkette.

Most of the room whipped their head towards Natsu, who didn't look all that shocked. "You smell kind of like me, and I genuinely don't think anything can surprise me anymore. That and Igneel's the only one of our dragon parents that has siblings." He shrugged nonchalantly.

"You are still the most low-key sassy child." Zeref commented.

Natsu raised an eyebrow, "Would you rather I not attempt to hide my sass?" His hand flew to his hip, "Because if you actually want me to start, the first thing we're doing is getting rid of that outfit." He eyed it up and down, and the guild burst into laughter. "Also, not a child."

Gray was staring at Natsu with an emotion that Erza couldn't recognize, and he slipped out of the back.

Gray had gone to sit by the river. It was a calm day, surprisingly, so it was flowing gently. After a while, he heard someone come up behind him.

"Hey, snowflake." Natsu plopped beside him, gently brushing his arm against Gray's as a form of comfort. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you about this mess, but I barely knew anything. I wanted to be positive when I told you."

The ice mage leaned into him slightly. "It's okay, Natsu. I just wasn't expecting it."

A small bark of laughter left the pinkette's lips and he shook his head, "You think I really did? It's weird and unusual, and that sort of thing makes people uncomfortable. It's best to act like nothing's wrong or at least like it doesn't bother you." Their sides were pressed completely together now, and the river water was louder than their voices.

"You're too selfless sometimes," Gray commented.

"Better than being a block of ice without emotions," Natsu teased. He poked Gray in the side, provoking him into tackling the pinkette.

Everyone was asking Zeref questions about that past and what Ankhseram did to him, though mostly about the past. Baby Natsu, to be specific.

A figure that seemed to be made of the shadows rushed past everyone, running straight through the dark mage's chest. When he came out the other side, the was a rapidly growing hole through his body, and the being vanished, leaving only one sentence to echo through the guild hall, "You shouldn't have betrayed me, boy."

They'd only been sparring. That was it. They did it all the time, so why?

Gray could only gape at the sight in front of him. The pinkette he'd known for more of his life than he hadn't was dissolving in front of him. "He's dying." Natsu refused to look him in the eyes, and that's honestly what was hurting him the most. The ice mage shot forward to catch Natsu's body as he became too weak to stand. "His body is turning into magic?"

"Natsu?" Gray shook him gently, not understanding what was going on. He tried to lift him, but his arms were beginning to pass right through the dragon slayer. "You can't die. Please don't die." Natsu attempted to grab onto Gray, but his hands slipped right through the fabric. Natsu's scarf fell through his body and into Gray's lap, and they both stared at it. "No. No no no no no. You can't. You can't leave me."

The sound of footsteps approached from behind him, but he didn't bother to turn around."Gray, move out of the way." It was Zeref, and when Gray finally did look at him, he had a hole through his chest. "Move!" Gray didn't.

The black wizard huffed. He pulled out a book with the word "END" on it, and he created a knife out of what looked like light. Thousands of strings appeared that were attached to both the book at Natsu. Zeref didn't hesitate. He swung the knife as hard as he could, cutting the strings clear through. He then grabbed a hold of them desperately. He sank to his knees and coughed up a bit of blood. He held them out to Gray, "Listen and listen carefully," He coughed up another mouthful of blood, "You care about him yeah?"Gray nodded, "Good. Ankhseram came for me, and to bring him back, I basically had to turn him into an Etherious. They aren created the way you think they are. They're only bound to their creator if they aren't bound to someone else."

"They're only bound to their creator if they aren't bound to someone else?" It took a moment, but Gray figured out what he was saying. "I'll do it."

Zeref placed the strings in Gray's hands, and they wrapped around his arms, then the rest of him before disappearing. All at once Natsu seemed to solidify, and Gray grabbed onto him. The pinkette sucked in a shaky breath and came out of his own mind. He held onto Gray and stared at his brother. Zeref leaned forward and buried one of his hands in his brother's hair. "I know what you're thinking. Wendy couldn't heal this. It'd hurt her."

"She could try."He protested.

"He's right," Gray agreed.

"Damn straight he's right!" Wendy came barreling through the trees with several others close behind. She knelt down beside the dark mage and began to use her healing magic, which was working surprisingly well.

"Oh." Zeref muttered once he realized he was wrong. He said something in what must have been his original language and let Wendy continue to heal him.

Natsu snorted. "That I can agree with." Gray poked him in the side, nearly making the pinkette jump out of his arms. "What?"

"Want to tell the rest of us what just happened?"

"Zeref said, 'Maybe I'm just super paranoid, or I still subconsciously have a death wish,' which is why I responded that I could agree with it."

Gray balked at him. "I'm assuming he gave you all you memories back?" Natsu nodded, "Good, I can actually ask you this. Have you always been assholes too each other?"

The siblings had an entire conversation with nothing but their eyes, then answered in perfect unison, "You should see it when all three of us are in one place."

A thought seemed to occur to everyone all at once.

"What are we going to do with three Natsus?"