#and it's clearly dark magic and one of many kinds that Merlin uses in this two parter

[kateis-cakeis]

After rewatching S4Ep12 again, it's hilarious how Merlin both hates and loves the spell he put on Arthur. He's both like ':O amazing', and 'this issss disturbing' at the same time

[cynthia39100]

Merlin rewatch -- S2E3: The Nightmare Begins

Gaius is the worst

I hated Gaius so much in this. Not just the gaslighting but also how full of self-righteousness he was while his gaslighting was clearly failing already. Morgana's nightmare clearly hadn't stopped since s1e13 and her magic was leaking so obviously. He still thought drugging her was effective? “ I’ve taken good care of her”?She already recognised his own magic. “ (gaslighting Morgana) For good reason”? It's obvious the secrecy only fueled the outburst of her magic. The fact that Morgana told Merlin about her magic should prove that Gaius’ method couldn’t even keep her mouth shut. It’s good that she found Merlin. What if she ran into someone whose mouth wasn’t that tight?

Gaius just didn’t want to help. Merlin proposed so many ways that didn’t concern Gaius. Druid is a valid option. Uther wasn’t actively raiding druid camps at the moment. (Merlin failed because the plan was rubbish, not because going to the druid was a bad idea) And frankly, Gaius was the person who could talk to Morgana with the least risk! He used to practice magic so it makes sense that he had the knowledge. If Morgana could be more in control, there wouldn’t be more of this kind of ‘accident’ that put Uther into witch-hunting mode. If he’s that scared of getting into trouble, fair. What annoyed me was that he acted like he knew best. “ I will (take care of Morgana). As I’ve always done.” Drugging and gaslighting don’t count.  “ What makes you think that you know better than me?” Merlin knew much much better thank you.

The second confrontation between them was not bad since Merlin stood up for himself and Gaius did get his point in the end. I’m still a bit mad that Gaius used “ people’s lives are at risk” to scold him. If Morgana didn’t lose control Uther wouldn’t start to arrest people in the first place. Also I’m never convinced that Gaius taught Merlin about ‘ the good in magic and the right way of using it’. I’m sure Hunith gave him that impression too if that adorable fire dragon was anything to go by. And Kilgharah was the one to tell him about his destiny. Merlin also used magic to save Gaius at the very beginning. He always knew to use it for good. I guess Gaius did provide him company, a people to counsel with and the fatherly love. But that’s not the same.

How I wish the episode ended at the lovely Merlin & Arthur scene. Why did Merlin have to apologise to Gaius? He did do some stupid things but it’s not like Gaius was personally affected. If Gaius was willing to help Merlin wouldn’t have to act alone. Gaius saying “ it’s not your fault. You were only doing what you thought was right.” seemed to indicate that he was correct about keeping Morgana in the dark, which is frustrating. At least Merlin did reply “We both were”...

[S2E3] [other episodes]

[natsu2501malo]

What if Merlin went to the bar once in a while just to make sure that if Arthur ever went looking for him there would be people able to confirm he does in fact occasionally go there.

What if the patrons saw Merlin this young, skinny, clearly exhausted and more often then not boy covered in bruises every week.

Who doesn't brings any friends, never has a smile on his face, obviously has the world on his shoulder... Quite worrysome...

What if the patrons start to become weirdly overprotective/worried about this young man. One of them tries asking him what's bothering him and Merlin just gives them a gentle smile and says he's just a little tired from work.

And they decide, this bean of a boy must be protected‼️✨

They slowly recruit others to their cause, as they observe/watch over him they start notice little things that only worries them further.

He always only gets one glass that he never drinks (probably so he doesn't get kicked out by the barkeeper). When he's not covered in bruises he is muddy, his hair is a mess other times he just looks dead on the inside and/or ready to break down.

He sometimes falls asleep at the table, this boy obviously doesn't get enough sleep, why doesn't he sleep at home? Is it not safe to do so there? It appears the barkeeper hasn't noticed that the boy is asleep from exhaustion rather then intoxication or perhaps he just doesn't want him occupying a seat that could be given to a better paying patron. So he often gets kicks out roughly.

Whatever reason he has for sleeping here doesn't matter because he obviously needs the sleep judging on how knocked out he is the second those dark baggy eyes shut for too long.

Distracting the barkeeper, sitting beside him at the table to make it look occupied whatever it takes they do it and they beam once they notice that sometimes he enters the bar just to have a nap.

But they decide that they could do more to help him so they take turns complimenting him when he walks in things like "looks like you worked hard today" or "nice scarf looks great on you young man".

This young man which they came to learn is named Merlin obviously isn't appreciated at home or his work given by how much of an effect the compliments have on his mood. Ending up in him softly smiling for the rest of his stay.

They eventually recruit the barkeeper who now refuses to charge him for his weekly drink and instead gives him a complimentary meal and glass of water under the prefect that he needs practice for a new menu he plans to put out.

The protect Merlin at all cost group (M.P.A.A.C.) feel quite proud of their achievements Melin looks much healthier and happier in general but most of all they've given him a safe place, a sanctuary where he can hopefully rest from his troubles.

So when Arthur barges into the bar demanding to know where his worthless and lazy servant Merlin has gone too this time more then half of the occupants are ready to pummel him to the ground.

Arthur finds himself surrounded by many fuming men and women who now understand part of the burden he must be under.

Arthur explains that he is only after his servant who is known to frequent this establishment. Quickly understanding that Merlin must use this place not only to relax after work but to get away and have more freedom to have an excuse for when he is off somewhere he doesn't want the prince know about.

With restrained rage at the new revelation, the group explains that he is indeed here but that this bar is quite exclusive and only members may come further inside.

The barkeeper confirms this and requests that his majesty leaves for his own safety, with the many glares pointed his way Arthur leaves astounded but a little impressed with the opposition.

Later that night Merlin comes around and the P.M.A.A.C. warn him that the prince came around asking for him but they covered for him. This show of kindness leads to Melin opening up to most of the aspects of his daily life. (magic and prophecies excluded)

Thankfully things aren't as bad as they imagined but they come to respect the young man for the amount of work he has as both the prince's servant and apprentice court physician.

Arthur isn't as bad as he seems Merlin explains, as it turns out he is under lot of pressure and Merlin helps him through it as his friend. As Merlin continues to boast about Arthur under a veil of insults they begin to recognize Merlin's hidden feelings and a new objective for the P.M.A.A.C. is put in the works.

Make Arthur realize how amazing Merlin really is‼️✨

If this eventually becomes a romance then it was meant to be and they just helped things along. But the main objective is to ensure Merlin is appreciated as he should be. 😤

They sure are glad they didn't beat Arthur up... Although what had held them back hadn't been his status, no it had been fear at the repercussions Merlin may have faced because of their involvement.

[wingletblackbird]

We need more Gaius content. He’s so complex. We know that he doesn’t wholly support the Purge, but he also does not seem to have been entirely against it. Or rather he thought before the Purge magic was abused or misused. He prides himself on his rationality and not believing in superstition. He doesn’t seem to care all that much about magic. It’s just a tool and a dangerous one that can get out of control. Whatever.

How much or the above influenced his decision to betray his kind? How much was simply sheer terror?

We know that Gaius worked with Nimueh and the other Priests/Priestesses. Perhaps he didn’t like the way they used their power. When he’s talking to Edwin, whose face is scarred from the flames that burned his parents alive, Gaius is just casual about it. Your parents used dark magic; they deserved it. You’re missing the point, Gaius! It didn’t matter how they used magic; everyone with magic was supposed to get that treatment! And you backed Uther!

In any case, we know that Gaius was trusted enough to be given a list of magic-users bound for execution. Gaius takes the name of his beloved off, but leaves the others to die. Just so long as people he cares about are safe, I suppose. If he’s given that list, it’s because he’s helping find these people. This is how he proves his loyalty by selling them out.

Gaius seems to by and large convince himself that the Purge was somewhat justified because “people abuse magic” and be even tells Merlin at one point that “magic corrupts.” (Like I feel so bad for Merlin that the one person who can teach him magic doesn’t even seem to like it.) However, at some point the excesses get to Gaius and he saves Edwin’s life and Balinor’s.

Nonetheless, Gaius still sympathises with Uther. They have the “I don’t believe in superstition” thing in common, I guess. I wonder what else there is to their history that Gaius tells Kilgharrah he doesn’t want to step back and allow Uther to be killed?! Like, Gaius, Kilgharrah is right, how many other times have you failed to act? But, you’ll defend the genocidal tyrant? And then he does? Why?

Then in Le Morte d’Arthur, Gaius in his letter to Merlin says how his life hasn’t had much purpose. Clearly, he doesn’t think a lot of what he’s done. There is a level of guilt and culpability here, and yet…

I just wish all of this fascinating complexity has been explored. I think Gaius learned magic from the priests/priestesses but didn’t like all the ways they used it. When he asked Nimueh to help with Igraine, and it backfired, Uther and Gaius may have been on the same page initially.

Then Uther took it too far, and Gaius was like well, guess I’ll save my own skin. Besides, most of these people are all horrible anyway.

And since he let them all die to protect himself, he’s all in Uther’s camp now because he’s basically sacrificed too much to be there. He’s sold his soul.

Every once in awhile he’ll save someone with magic, provided he’s reasonably sure it won’t come back to bite him, or they mean something to him on some level.

I think he sees helping Merlin as his atonement in some ways, but also not so far that he’ll ever admit that his methods were wrong. Kilgharrah even accuses him of working against Merlin’s destiny and in some ways I believe it. As time passes, Gaius does get more and more behind the idea of magic coming back. However, Gaius never quite manages to cross that line of acknowledging the true scope of what he’s done and been a part of. As always, he buries it all deep within.

Gaius is such a fascinating character. We needed more shows about him. He is entirely under-explored.

[imissthembutitwasntadisaster]

Sorry sorry one more ask I’m rewatching Merlin a bit pls tell me if you will what you’d have done with Merlin and Morgana plotline I’d like to imagine it play out nicely

First of all I treasure and relish asks I love talking to you never apologize. Second of all. It's been a long long while since I watched it BUT you know what's so weird??? That Merlin didn't tell Morgana about his magic when he found out about his dreams! He told a lot of people frankly, Lancelot worked it out in SECONDS, so why not Morgana, Morgana who's clearly suffering and so totally alone and afraid. So Merlin tells Morgana and she believes him and for a while it helps that they share this secret.

But it isn't enough, because sometimes it just isn't. Uther is still so rabidly against it and Arthur too and the kingdom is so hostile and Merlin's just one boy, so Morgause still manages to win over Morgana even as Merlin pleads for her to stop. He still has to poison her to stop the sleeping spell (a sleeping spell she didn't know about and didn't cast on purpose! Even up until this she was still fairly innocent!!!) and she sees that as a double betrayal - not just Merlin the vague acquaintance, but Merlin her friend, Merlin the only person to share her secret, poisoned her.

So of course, she's furious and she turns against Camelot and fights against it over and over again. She sneaks back into the castle pretending to repent, as she did in the show, but continues to attempt to tear down its foundations. But because Merlin knows she knows about his powers, he doesn't try to hide them from her and so they keep meeting, they keep having individual fights, they keep arguing. And every time, Merlin asks her to come back, to be reconciled, to give up his quest. He begs forgiveness for poisoning her and for not seeing where it was all going wrong. He could kill her so many times in this version but he never does. Morgana's hatred and rage is slowly cooled and replaced with confusion, the confusion of a girl raised by an angry and bitter and unrelenting man faced now with mercy. She can hardly remember what that means anymore.

Let's say Uther starts another witch-hunt and Merlin needs help to get a friend out of Camelot. It wouldn't be too unlikely a storyline. He asks Morgana, because she's the only one he knows, because he gets desperate, because Uther is crueler and more twisted each day. Morgana in this, at least, can work with Merlin but she also plans to use it for her own means, to kill Uther, to take down the knights, and Arthur too. But the thing is that Merlin trusts her, he trusts her to follow the plan they make together to help people and remember that Morgana used to order food for those in need in defiance of Uther's wishes, remember she used to arm herself on behalf of small ravaged villages, remember that at her heart she was kind. So she chooses to go along with Merlin's plan, to let her revenge slip away for a moment, telling herself she can always do it again, and because of her a magic user makes it out of Camelot alive. This is the beginning.

Because, at the same time other dangers, other enemies, other darknesses are rising against the land and Merlin is tired and harried and stretched through. And he hates to do it, but he has to turn, on occasion, to Morgana. He has to fight her still, but somehow the fights become less frequent and the requests for aid more common. Every time Morgana swears she'll most likely kill Arthur in the morning and every time she doesn't. Merlin asks for her help in making small lives better, in lightening loads, Morgana isn't shaking the earth with thunder, she uses her magic now more and more often, she finds, for quiet sly spells to make things easier for others now every day.

But! Morgause is still her family, has still manipulated her so much that she does still choose to take over Camelot. She's much more conflicted about it though, more so when the people of the city refuse to swear loyalty to her, even more when Merlin returns and tries to convince her against it. Morgause attacks him as he speaks and as she does, Morgana chooses to tip over the cup of life herself, ending her own army because, she realises, she would rather lose the crown than see Merlin die (because he, of course, is what she could be, and the good in what she once was).

Either Morgause dies there as in the show, or she becomes a mutual enemy, but Morgana flees as she did before. She still lives in the wilds outside Camelot and a new legend springs up, that if you go a-searching in the woods, you might find a witch who can help you. It's still not an easy path, she's still filled with a lot of hatred, but Merlin helps, he visits a lot. They become very close mostly because they learn to trust each other (it takes a lot of effort from him, a lot of work, but he tries and it pays off). The ending could be dramatic or it could be simple. Perhaps one is in danger and the other realises they can't bear to let them go. Perhaps, instead, Morgana looks at Merlin over the table one day and discovers she doesn't want a life without him. No matter how it goes, they do fall in love.

Camelot falls, of course, as it must, as it always has and always will. Arthur dies and Merlin sends him off and awaits his return. But this time, he's not alone in the waiting.

i just think. They should have been in love. It's about how they are both what the other could have been.

Also I need to emphasise this doesn't really make clear how extremely angsty this would be. So much drama. So much pain. Only joy after a REALLY LONG TIME.

[damsel-in-mistress]

Hogwarts-Era:

1) Ashes of Another Life - 6th year, 987 words, oneshot

Summary: At the dead of night atop a Hogwarts tower, Draco Malfoy falls prey to despair.

2) Knock Me Sideways - 6th year, 3.038 words, oneshot

Summary: She wasn’t supposed to walk in on him. She was supposed to be tutoring some third-year half-wits, not catching him red-handed, clothes wildly strewn all over the floor while he was still at it.

On the bed.

With mussed-up hair and shock-widened eyes.

Unable to deny what he was doing.

3) You Know it Will Always Just be Me - 8th year, 6.391 words, oneshot

Summary: Her palms grew damp in his elegant fingers.

“Is it still me that makes you sweat, then?” he murmured smugly, clearly having noticed.

If they hadn’t been followed by so many curious pairs of eyes, she would have openly glared at him, but since she couldn’t – in favour of keeping up appearances – she chose to grit her teeth behind the front of a charming smile and ignore his statement.

“Why so quiet, Hermione? You’ve never been one for silences and we’re required to have some civil conversation, aren’t we?”

“If that’s your understanding of ‘civil’, then I suggest you keep quiet for the remainder of this dance,” she replied curtly, that saccharine smile never faltering.

A low hum of recognition snuck its way past his sealed lips. “Seems to me like I hit a nerve there.”

4) The 'Pretty' Series (dark!Draco warning) - 3 drabbles, 443 words

Summary: She may be a beneath me, tainted, filthy, but Merlin help me – she’s so pretty when she cries.

5) F*** the Pain Away - 6th year, 8.049 words, oneshot

Summary: "Three things happened simultaneously: His left hand shot out to grasp the intruder’s wrist in a death grip, he realised who the intruder was, and the Stupefy died on his lips. Brown eyes open wide with surprise, brow furrowed, mouth ajar in a soft gasp, Hermione Granger stood before him."

When Draco's world is misery and dread, Hermione happens upon him in Myrtle's bathroom. None of them could have forseen what this will lead to.

Post-Hogwarts:

1) Fighting Destiny - 4/4 Chapters, 11.417 words

Summary: In a post-war world with cushy jobs at the Ministry of Magic (and a night club as his personal playground), Draco and Hermione grow closer. What destiny awaits them? And if they don't agree with it, will they be able to fight it?

2) Education is Key (jealous!Hermione)- oneshot, 1.617 words

Summary: No, Hermione Granger is certainly NOT the catfighting kind. Least of all now that she's nearing 30.

But some people just bring out the worst in her and isn't it great to have friends like Ginny who then remind her that sometimes, you just have to educate. . . .

3) Broke-Broken - oneshot, 735 words, Muggle London

Summary: Mentally and physically beaten like a disobedient house elf under his father’s cruel command he still stood tall – and that’s how she recognized him. For, other than that, he looked nothing like the young man she used to know – and yet, he was still the same.

4) Terrible Angel - drabble, 328 words, Second Wizarding War

Summary: He stares into the jagged piece of a mirror amidst the rubble, cracks pulling across the dulled surface like a spider’s web, and all that’s alive in the unmoving reflection is a pair of silvery eyes, ablaze with the feverish intensity of hunger.

5) Wish - drabble, 539 words, Post-War, St. Mungo's

Summary: The sight that met his silver gaze spoke volumes: her breathing ragged, her eyes shut tightly, her skin flushed and damp with perspiration she lay in front of him on the bed. But this couldn’t honestly be real. She would never ask him to do that – she was Hermione Jean Granger, after all. This had to be a dream. And a vivid, visceral one at that.

6) Vertigo Kiss - smut trilogy, post-war, bdsm, WIP

Summary: Due to her prominent position as Minister for Magic, it has become increasingly difficult for Hermione to scratch the persistant itch that is her sexual appetite. An unmarried witch at 31, the wizarding dating world is quite unforgiving - the Muggle world, on the other hand, has no clue who Hermione Jean Granger is.

Recently divorced and in need of distraction, Draco is loath to try and find carnal pleasure amongst the wizarding kind. Too recognisable is his face, too eager for the spotlight and money are the willing witches - the Muggle world, on the other hand, has no clue who Draco Lucius Malfoy is.

An anonymous underground Leather and Lace sex-positive party in masks might be just the place to find a solution to such problems . . . .

7) 37 Snapshots of Dramione - Microfic May 2023, NSFW

smutty Dramione in their thirties - 37x50(ish) words

8) Granger Things Have Happened - Microfic May 2024, NSFW (WIP)

smutty Dramione in their thirties - 36x50(ish) words

[mister-tom-a-dildo-lover]

Hi! This might not be what you suggested, @immxrtalbi sorry. ^-^ This is the beginning of something that could be nice.

TAGS: Drama, AU!Voldy Wins, Humor, Simping, Pre-Tomarrymort, Non-Horcrux!Harry,

~.O.~

The Locket was missing. It was missing and he had no clue where it could be. It had been many years since he'd hidden it and he'd never had to stop and question whether or not it was still safe.

Yet the feeling came up recently because he'd read some historical records about Salazar Slytherin and it got him thinking once again. Specifically, about making another Horcrux to reach the magical number seven. Salazar apparently had some kind of old brooch he valued because it was a direct 'gift' from the Goblins. It was called Salazar's Heart because of where he always pinned it to his robes and the sheer size of the gem within it.

Obviously, with his need to own things other people didn't, he set off to find said item... and found it buried in a small field on the border of France and Spain. It was larger than his palm, and not even his skeletal fingers could completely close over it. It was the perfect item to use as a Horcrux due to cultural significance and the connection it had to his ancestor.

So, with thoughts trailing back to his Horcruxes once again, the nostalgia struck him, and he felt a strong desire to... reacquaint himself with his younger selves.

And so came the realisation that Slytherin's Locket was gone. Someone had gotten into that dank cave despite all of the protections he'd put in place, drank the poison as it was, and escaped with the Locket anyway.

Then he went to Hogwarts and found that Ravenclaw's Diadem had vanished from the Room of Requirement. As the owner, only he could summon said objects so long as it was within distance, and not only could he not sense it, but it did not respond.

After that he went back to the Gaunt Shack for the Gaunt ring and Hufflepuff's Cup, and found they too were missing. He then, in a fit, double checked each and every location until he had to accept the fact that all of his Horcruxes... were missing. Somehow.

Potentially destroyed even.

If he destroyed an entire wing of Malfoy Manor when he came to terms with the facts, that was no one's business but his own.

Once his wrath boiled down to a simmer, and he was able to think clearly again, Voldemort remembered that if they were still around, he could perform a ritual to locate them. Dark Magic left traces after all, and they literally contained his own soul pieces so it would be pathetic if he couldn't track them down.

Anyway, this all lead him to this moment.

To the last place he would ever think it find his Horcruxes.

Diagon Alley. Or rather, a side street off Diagon's main street. Horizonte Alley.

Harry's Happy Antiques [Closed]

For the love of Merlin, why?

And how?

But mostly, WHY?!

It was like Borgin and Burkes all over again.

Murder. Murder. Death. Torture. Murder. Murder.

Such lovely ideas.

Voldemort could make anything look like an accident. Or he could simply claim this Harry had committed a crime worthy of the death penalty. Nobody of significant intelligence would question his motives. Anyone who did raise concerns could be made to disappear.

There was a little jingle that rang through the shop when he opened the door. Those murderous thoughts seemed to make even more sense as the seconds passed.

It was a muggle tune for Merlin's sake.

"Hi there!"

And that's when Voldemort's slitted gaze landed upon... him.

A young man standing behind a long counter covered in very old bits and bobs of all sorts, was holding Slytherin's Locket in his one hand, and a fluffy, blue cloth in the other. Said young man flashed a bright smile as he rubbed the cloth along the green face of the locket. "What can I do for you, my lord?"

Even from where he was stood in the doorway, Voldemort could feel how pleased the locket was.

It was practically oozing self-satisfaction. As if its current predicament was somehow within its control.

"You have something of mine," Voldemort stated, staring the locket down with the most intense, yet non-murderous displeasure, he could manage.

The young man frowned, looking between Voldemort and the locket a few times, before holding it out. "This?"

"Slytherin's Locket," Voldemort said, "stolen from my possession years ago. Ravenclaw's Diadem, also stolen from where I'd placed it. Hufflepuff's Cup and the Gaunt Ring both disappeared from my mother's house where I kept them. And perhaps you've come into contact with a curious diary with the name Tom on it?"

The young man gaped. "That's... a lot. Um, the locket was in my godfather's house. He was getting rid of things he thought might be cursed and it ended up with me because it was too cool to leave with the rubbish. I found the cup and the diadem in the Room of Requirement. The Ring was left to my mum in Dumbledore's Will, but she thought it was hideous and let me have it when I asked. As for the book, Malfoy's dad brought that in some day back in June. Wanted desperately get rid of it."

And then he pulled each item out into the open, all immaculately tended to and shining as bright as new. Better than the last time he'd seen each of them.

It was almost enough to calm his desire to murder Lucius Malfoy in cold blood right in front of his wife and brat at dinner. No better way to send a message that to leave witnesses who were emotionally connected to what happened.

But the blond had his uses so a bit of mild torture for his transgressions would have to suffice. That didn't mean he wouldn't suffer through extra paperwork from now on though.

As for Dumbledore... no point in focusing on a dead man. Voldemort had already won there and could gloat more later on.

"I'd gladly return them to you, my lord, but..."

Voldemort's intense glare had the young man shutting up instantly.

"They've become obsessed with you. Yes, I can feel it easily." Far too easily. Each blasted piece of history could perceive what was happening to some extent and they did not, in fact, want to leave.

Traitors!

"It's just that they're so lonely, my lord. I couldn't bear to part with them," the young man said, giving the locket still in his hand, a soft rub with the cloth he was using to polish it.

"Says the boy running a shop meant to sell antiques like them."

He snorted. He dared to snort in Lord Voldemort's face!

"I know it one of the signs says we're 'ready for business', but we really aren't, my lord. This is my collection, and I don't sell anything to anyone ever. I just wanted a place to keep my things on display because I like hoarding things others don't have." He then flashed a very charming smile, his bright green eyes twinkling in a familiar, yet not disgusting way. "In fact, the Closed sign was up for a reason. We rarely open and we certainly don't want customers."

He then cooed at the Horcrux that Voldemort could feel was demanding his attention once again.

Of course, even when just being a piece of himself, he couldn't possibly share attention for a moment.

Ridiculous.

To make it worse, the Diary was obviously trying very hard to get the young man's attention as well.

He sighed. Deep breath in and deep breath out. Over and over and over.

Okay. He could handle this.

They'd throw tantrums if he took them away. Might even try to possess someone to bring them back. mMght try to annoy him if he acted against their wishes. Despite being trapped in objects, they were created with Dark Magic and were still capable of being dangerous.

"If my lord would like, you can come and visit them every Saturday. That's my personal day," the young man offered, still smiling.

"Offering visitation rights for my own possessions?"

"Yeah."

He had to have been a Gryffindor. No one outside that foolish House was so stupidly brave in the face of the Dark Lord.

Voldemort had tortured people for less.

"...Fine," he relented, knowing the Diary would make itself his greatest enemy, and would be very capable of being a threat if he didn't give it what it wanted. Half of his soul was trapped in that bloody book after all. It was the most capable of the Horcruxes and therefore the biggest threat.

If it wanted to get pampered by a pretty boy every day, then let it be distracted.

This could work to his advantage, he realised.

Voldemort smirked. "Then I shall see you on Saturday... Harry."

The boy's sudden flush and the offended swell of emotions form the gathered Horcruxes was amusing.

Yes, this could be very useful indeed. He just had to play his cards right.

~.O.~

A/N: I did a thing! Hi! ^-^

[My Ko-Fi]

No but you know what would be funny. tomarry story about Harry being an antique collector and accidentally collected all the horcruxes. And the horcruxes haven’t had human touch in a long time that they suddenly find themselves wanting Harry. At first they were going to drain him but then they realize how much Harry takes care of them by polishing, dusting, and holding them.

[mitsukui]

birthday suit | g.w.

Pairing: George Weasley x female reader.

Summary: your boyfriend, George Weasley, could never allow you to sleep without a birthday celebration ━ this is the third and final part of my ‘Good Girl’ series, so make sure you read ‘Good Girl’ (pt.1) and ‘Make It Cream’ (pt.2) as well!

Word Count: 4,2k.

Warnings: smut! Mentions of food, daddy kink, dirty talk, cum play, spit play, overstimulation, praise kink, lingerie kink (is that a thing?), use of toys, gagging, choking, finger sucking, pictures being taken with total consent.

Disclaimer: none of the pictures used in the edit below belong to me; I simply put them together.

A/N: this was so highly requested! I hope I can make justice to your requests and desires, my loves. Please, leave me some feedback if you feel like it! My askbox is open for your opinions, thoughts and requests. Thank you so much for your time and attention!  ♡

Masterlist!

The clock struck midnight, and his thin and pinkish lips curled up in a devious smirk. He was well aware of your dislike towards celebrating your birthday, but you had been acting like such a good girl that he just had to give you something to celebrate the special day.

Truth being told, he was deeply and eternally thankful for your existence and for your presence in his life. You had changed so many aspects of his old self, taught him so many new things, and provided him so many novel feelings and experiences. You were the love of his life, and nothing would be able to ever change that.

However, he had also discovered an unexplored side of him with your help: George Weasley was an utterly kinky man. And there was nothing that he fancied more than seeing you squirming under his touch, moaning his name, and covered in his cum.

So your birthday gift had to be obviously related to that.

Ever since the wondrous night when you dominated him in the middle of your kitchen, he had been holding himself back and gathering all of his desire for you. You still had shared intimate moments, but none of them had been as intense as the very first time you called him ‘daddy’. And you missed those moments.

You missed being dominated by him, you missed the feeling of his hands hitting your skin repeatedly, you missed hearing his degrading words, you missed the air being cut from your lungs because he was choking you.

Thanks Merlin things were about to change.

Focused on a few things related to work, you had your eyebrows furrowed and teeth pressed down onto your lower lip. Every now and then, you mumbled some words to yourself, and George adored how you did this whenever you were concentrated.

The way you were completely clueless about his plans was simply adorable to him.

“Princess?” His words came out through a soft and moderately low voice, but it was enough to end your trance and make you look at him.

When your eyes met his figure, you noticed he was holding two things: a small white box, and a black shopping bag. As a result, you sighed and gave him a disapproving look. The quill you were holding was put to rest on your desk and you ran a hand through your hair.

“How many times have we talked about this, George? You know I’d rather see it as a normal day, than as my birthday.”

The tall man continued taking small steps as you sustained your visible frustration towards him. Despite your sudden bad mood, his smirk never faltered.

“I know, I know. But I saw these bad boys and I couldn’t stop thinking about it.”

You crossed your arms against your chest, the urge of punching him right in his handsome face burning inside you. With one of your eyebrows raised, you nodded shortly, signaling him to continue speaking.

“Don’t think of these as birthday gifts. Think they’re just gifts, because you’ve been a good girl for me.”

Unlike his smirk, you faltered. You blinked repeatedly and your arms fell to the sides of your body. Damn, you missed hearing those kinds of words. And he clearly noticed it, because he stepped even closer to you.

“You’ve been a good girl for me, haven’t you?” His dark eyes glistened with a deep, deep hunger, something which you had almost forgotten all about. It was so easy for him to read you. He knew exactly what those slightly parted lips and discontinuous breath meant. “Such a good girl for daddy.”

And then, just like that, you were wrapped around his finger. However, it was not time for you to have your entertainment yet. Both of you still needed to wait some more, and he was willing to make you suffer a bit.

“Let’s see what daddy’s got you, hmm?”

He carefully positioned the white box in your own hands, gesturing for you to open it and, when you did, a chuckle slipped out of your lips effortlessly.

Inside of that first box, there was a small square of strawberry cake, splattered with condensed milk and tiny raspberries. The sight was mouthwatering, though he gave you no time to think much about it.

Two of his slender fingers ran over the creamy liquid, capturing some of it. In a quick movement, he shoved his fingers into your mouth, which caused your tongue to automatically swirl around them. A growl got caught in his throat, the feeling of that type of intimacy being missed erupting in his chest.

There was enjoyment in that act for you too, your long lost submissiveness returning to you bit to bit. Your eyelashes fluttered until you closed your eyes, and you opened your mouth a bit wider, allowing his fingers to go in deeper.

He showed no mercy upon you, quickly gaining a fast pace shoving his fingers in and out your mouth. Occasional gags echoed in the silent room and saliva was already dripping down your chin. Funnily enough, the condensed milk still danced around your tongue and his fingers.

“Don’t swallow it.”

He was quick to order you and even quicker to kneel down in front of you. Confusion played with your senses for a bit while the liquid remained still inside your mouth. “Spit it in my mouth.”

A series of tingles played with your core and it was almost as if you had mistaken his words for something else. However, he stuck his tongue out and stared intensely at you, his gaze never wandering to somewhere else.

So you obeyed. You placed both of your hands on the sides of his face, leaned down just a bit, and brought him closer to you. He held on your thighs as the liquid was transferred into his mouth, his nails being pressed against the soft skin.

Once George had all the liquid inside his mouth, he swallowed it and released the pressure he had created on your thighs with his hands. He stood up, towering over you and whispering how much of a whore you are. His thumb ran across your parted lips while you resisted the urge to ask him if he could fuck your mouth relentlessly.

“Now, princess, there’s one more for you to open. We can eat your cake later, alright?” He handed you the black bag this time and, already feeling eager enough, you opened it in a heartbeat.

Inside of the bag, there was a lingerie set. The upper piece was covered in a light pink shade, and the top cups were adorned with a transparent fabric with red hearts on it. There was a pink see-through thong there as well, to complete the set. However, those were not the only things in there.

Resting insignificantly on the corner of the bag, your eyes captured the sight of something yet unknown. Your fingers grazed the surface of the object until you finally got a hold of it and were able to identify what it was: a vibrator.

You looked up at him for answers, and that same smirk was back on. You hated him for it, for how good he looked at that moment, and for how wet you already were.

“You’ve found my favorite part of it all, darling. This little guy”, George took the vibrator from your hands, and fiddled with it. His hand looked so big compared to it that it was hypnotizing. “is gonna be inside you for the entire day tomorrow. Do you understand it?”

His voice assumed that old dominant tone and you almost collapsed right in front of him, begging to be fucked. You nodded along his words. “This little part is gonna be brushing against your clit, vibrating from time to time.” His index finger ran over the toy slowly, accentuating all of its features. “And this one is gonna be inside of you, shoved up real deep in your cunt.”

Although you had not even reached your orgasm yet, you swore you were seeing stars. You could feel your panties covered in a sticky mess due to the wetness he had caused with so little.

“But let’s not get excited now, shall we? There’s a long night of sleep ahead of us. Go to bed now, I’ll be right there with you.”

Dizziness clouded your mind and you could only obey George, your pleasure reaching a point that was so high that you even forgot what you were doing before any of that started.

You fell asleep together that night, and you slept like a baby. In the next morning, he woke you up with a tenderness which was soon destroyed by his fingers playing with your clit, stretching your pussy lips and shoving the vibrator inside you, exactly like he had promised last night.

And exactly like he had told you to, you stayed with it throughout the day.

He told you he had put a spell on it that allowed him to control it even when you were distant from each other. With a simple flick of his wand, he would be able to make it vibrate or make it stop. If he whispered a few words, the vibrator could even thrust in and out of you. Was not magic amazing?!

In a nutshell, he was able to torture you whenever and however he wanted. And that’s what he did.

He started out slowly, gently almost. The very first vibrations came in the morning, when you had just started working. It was like a ticklish touch, giving you a fluttering pleasure. You gasped once you felt it, shocked by how suddenly it had reached you. However, he only allowed you to feel that for brief moments, teasing you recklessly in random moments during the day.

When the evening at last arrived and it was the end of your shift, you were nothing but a terrible shaking and furtively moaning mess. Warmness controlled your cheeks, your legs trembled and you could not wait to be touched after so many vibrations and thrusts.

But the real torture met you when you apparated back to the apartment you shared with George.

He was waiting for you, sat on the leather couch in the living room. His Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes’ uniform hugged every inch of his muscular body ravishingly, but what really got you was the way he stood up as soon as he laid eyes on you.

It only took him a second to notice your submissive and ready-to-be-pleased-and-please condition, and another mere second to crash his lips against yours. He kissed you with a hunger you thought he would never feel again for you, hands showing no hesitation to explore your body, and squeeze any parts he was crazy about.

As he kissed you, you felt the same vibrations from earlier but, this time, you were free to moan. So you did. You opened your mouth while he kissed you and moaned loudly, instantly begging him to fuck you through whispers mixed with whimpers.

George led you to your shared bedroom and, when he pushed you down onto the bed, he chuckled and ran his hand over his jawline, the bulge on his pants starting to bother him.

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten what you did to me the last time. I’m going to fucking destroy you tonight, birthday girl.”

That was enough to make you moan and spread your legs for him. In the blink of an eye, he undressed you, leaving only the lingerie he had gotten you on.

His dark eyes studied your body and, amongst so many lustful feelings, a pang of love exploded in his chest. You were so beautiful, and he was so honored to openly see how much you loved and trusted him. And, at that moment, the certainty that you were the only one for him burned fiercely inside him.

Still with your legs spread open for him and few clothing on, you ran your fingers over your clothed intimacy, the vibrator now feeling a bit like a bother, once you would rather have his cock filling you up.

As soon as he was close enough to you on the bed, his fingers removed your panties and he was blinded by the way your juices from the entire day were displayed on the fabric.

“Just look at this…” He shot you a disapproving looking, however, on the inside, he was far beyond turned on. “I bet you came so many times, didn’t you, princess?”

You nodded at his words, lips pressed together. You could feel he was about to degrade you, which made an enormous fire appear on your loins. His words, however, turned out to be the entire opposite of what you were expecting.

“What a good girl you’ve been for daddy. I see you’ve kept my little gift on the entire day, right?”

Instead of answering him, you chose to take your legs up to your chest this time, all of you being exposed for his eyes to feast on. You used all of your strength and attempted to push out the toy, but it was useless; it only moved a few inches.

“So pretty, baby girl. I bet you feel really sensitive right now, yeah? Even a bit swollen, perhaps.” George palmed his erection, precum leaking from the tip and creating a small spot on his underwear. “And I bet you taste really good.”

With this final sentence, he brought your panties up to his lips and gave it a long and slow lick. The scene unraveling in front of your eyes caused your wall to clench around the vibrator.

While he licked your juices off your panties and looked at you the entire time, needy moans were the only sounds coming out of your lips. You had never imagined he would do something like that. Although it was something extraordinarily new for you, you still enjoyed it somehow, and made sure your brain was recording every piece of it. It would come in handy whenever you two were apart.

“So, so sweet, princess. That’s my good girl.” He leaned down and pecked your lips quickly, soon loosening his tie. “How about we take this off now?”

He ran his fingers over the toy, putting some extra pressure on the part that was close to your clit. In slow and teasing movements, he pulled the vibrator out of you, a string of your own juices still making a connection between you.

The action forced you to buckle your hips up, desperation and lust being the only things rushing through your veins then. You were indeed sensitive, just like he had predicted, but you still wanted to feel his lips, fingers and cock playing with you.

“Can you, please, fuck me, daddy? I’ve been waiting all day long…”

Your voice broke his trance in a billion of pieces, and the way he looked at you was slightly dangerous. You loved his eyes whenever he looked at you like that. And he loved looking at you like that, because it meant he was about to fuck your brains out.

Without any words, he used one of his hands to pull your chin down and open your lips, and the other to shove your recently licked panties into your mouth.

“You’re gonna be real good for daddy now, alright, princess?” The same hand he had used to make you gag on your own underwear was now pressing the sides of your neck and cutting all the existing air in your body.

You rolled your eyes to the back of your head and your moans were muffled by the fabric in your mouth. While still choking you and eating you up with his eyes, his free hand travelled to your pussy and he went straightforward to your clit.

“You’re soaking wet, babe. Aren’t you a desperate whore?” His fingers moved in circular gestures and they were increasing in speed second after second. “My desperate whore, though.”

Eyes shut tightly, eyebrows furrowed together, and tension building in your lower stomach area, you whimpered and nodded at everything he was doing at that moment.

George was crazy about the way your wetness painted his fingers, the way he had been the one to cause all that, the way you were indeed slightly swollen yet begging for more, and the way you were entirely his. The entire situation was almost like a mirage to his eyes, and his secret devotion for you could not get any bigger at that moment. He lusted over you, but he also loved you more than anything else in the entire universe.

Soon enough, another orgasm washed over you as tiny tears escaped your eyes. Sounds that resembled screams quite a lot escaped your lips, but did not make very far as for echoing in the room.

George’s touch became gentle again and he allowed you to breathe properly again. You opened your eyes and found him smiling at you, his thumb brushing against your cheekbone and words of praise escaping his lips in whispered notes.

The mix of feelings both of you had always felt during these moments was something really out of this world, and how he could so easily switch from being dominant to being loving only made you feel more submissive to him.

“Is it okay if daddy fucks you now, princess? Do you think you can take it?” This time, however, you could not even nod. Pleasure was still sending waves of shock down your spine and you needed some extra time to recover. So you only blinked in response, tilting your head to the side and pressing your face against his hand.

“You remember our safe word, yeah? And you know that you can use it anytime, right? I’ll stop it right away, darling.”

You closed your eyes once more, humming in response. Deep down inside, you wondered if you could handle another round. You were exhausted already. Being teased the entire day was no easy task, and being teased by George Weasley was enough to make anyone drown in lust.

However, something inside of you wanted to go that extra notch. You knew he wanted it, too, and you would do anything to pleasure him. And, on top of all that, it had been the best birthday you had ever had, so why not make it memorable?

As you remained silent, he pressed gentle kisses to your temples and forehead, fingers running over your nipples through your delicate and almost innocent looking bra. Whatever answer came from you, it would not matter much to him. He was happy to stay with you like that, completely ignoring his own needs and focusing solely on you and what was best for you.

But you opened your eyes after a while, a new energy bursting inside you and that same old crave for him still burning as strongly as ever. You and George exchanged a long stare and both of you just knew it.

You knew you were respected and taken care of by your soul mate, and he knew he had found everything he had always looked for.

He undressed as you watched wordlessly, your underwear now soaked by your own saliva. A few moments later, he lined himself up with your entrance, teasing you a bit more by rubbing his shaft against your incredibly sensitive cunt.

“Don’t forget to use our safeword if you need it, princess.”

And, with that, he buried himself inside you. You arched your back and cried out instantly, the feeling of finally being full of him giving you everything you had been longing for the entire day. He got a grip on your hip bones and started pumping in and out of you slowly.

Your walls felt so tight around him, repeatedly clenching his member, and your warmness was not of much help either. He had spent the day in a torturous manner as well, imagining if you were enjoying what he decided to do with you. Images of you taking deep breaths from time to time, covering your mouth, and gasping had popped into his mind in the worst moments, and it had been hard for him to focus on anything else other than the moment he would see you again.

George fucked you in a romantic and patient way. He adjusted to your needs, paying attention to your body and your reactions. His thrusts were steady and deep, dripping with the great devotion he felt for you.

But when he felt his own orgasm was approaching, he sustained a faster and sloppier pace, your name leaving his lips like a mantra and his fingers focusing on your clit once more.

Unison moaning filled the air hovering above the two of you, and you felt you were close as well. It did not take long until you were coming undone for him and him only, nails digging onto his forearms and more small tears streaming down your cheeks.

George’s moans became louder and he knew it was time. While you still trembled and gasped for air, he slipped out of you, but kept on stroking himself. He violently pulled your panties out of your mouth and, once you understood what he was about to do, you stuck your tongue out.

His warm seed fell on your face, painting your tongue and bits of your chin as well. He breathed heavily, his hand still stroking himself and your name leaving his lips.

You somehow managed to pull off an innocent and submissive look, despite the exhaustion that now took over your body, while moving your tongue and savoring the way he had again made you his. With your eyes stuck on him, you whimpered and waited for his permission to swallow the white ropes on your tongue.

“Fucking Merlin, princess.” George was sweaty and a tad exhausted as well, but the sight of you with your lips covered in his cum was too amazing to be wasted. “Hold on a sec.”

He left you like that, tongue stuck out and cum continuously releasing its flavor in your mouth. And, when he returned, he had an instant camera in hands. Your eyes widened and, once more, he was surprising you with things he had never done before.

“Make a really pretty pose for daddy.” Sweet chuckles were captured by his ears, which only caused him to chuckle too and tell you, again, how much of a good girl you were for him.

You stuck your tongue out even further, and your fingers were brought up to your bra. You rolled up the piece and your breasts were then visible. Still using your fingers, you spread his cum around your lips and chin area, and even took a bit of it to both of your nipples. It was enough to make him hard again.

“Get ready now.” Right before he snapped the picture, you played with his cum, a string of the liquid connecting your tongue and your middle finger. He groaned at the scene, internally swearing he could fuck you until the daylight.

Once the picture was out and you could see it perfectly, you swallowed his cum, but enjoyed feeling the remains of it on your skin. For a brief while, he selfishly stared at the little square on his hand, mesmerized by the way the picture moved and had captured you being so dirty. His fingertips ran over his sensitive tip and he threw his head back, but he was quick to return to reality.

“Do you wanna see it?”

You nodded at his words, body turning towards him. George was someone who managed to look good even after exhaustion and huge waves of pleasure. His eyelids looked somewhat heavy, and he still found a bit of difficulty to breathe properly. Love overflew from your heart and you were unable to hold a small smile back.

His body fell down next to yours, against the white sheets of your bed, and his head rested on his pillow. He showed you the picture and, strangely enough, you loved watching yourself like that. Your self-esteem skyrocketed.

“Do you like it, daddy?”

“I love it, princess. I guess it’s my new favorite picture of yours. Being such a good slut for daddy, huh? Covered in his cum and showing it off.”

The picture was put down and your tired body was brought closer to his. He pressed his lips against yours in a sweet, slow and sloppy kiss, a huge contrast compared to the way he had treated you throughout your birthday.

He broke the kiss after a minute or two, and studied all of your features. The picture was obviously mesmerizing for him, but the reality he had created with you was much, much better.

“You’re the love of my life. Thank you for giving me this opportunity to celebrate your birthday with you.” As he whispered his confession, you placed your hands on his chest and scratched his freckled skin gently, something you know he adored. He peppered your face with delicate kisses and then proceeded to speak again, his caring nature slipping through the cracks of his dominant self.

“Happy birthday, princess. Words will never be enough to fully express my love for you.”

Celebrating your birthday next year did not sound too much of a bad idea, after all.

Tag list! ❤️ @efyra @writingsomewrongs @kellsslut @pineapplesandpinas @fiction-is-the-new-reality @hufflepuff5972 @amourtentiaa @emmaev @asthmax @anchoeritic​ @eunoia-kth​ @asimpfortheweasleys @wand3ringr0s3​ @superbturtlemakerathlete​ @darthwheezely​

[di-daynamic]

The thing that really bothers me about the Merlin progression is that. . . . There is no progression.

Half the time I literally cannot tell whether Arthur is going to be this oblivious but kind, arrogant and haughty but trusting and honest and just prince, or if he will just act as an ass and dismiss Merlin for. . . No reason at all.

And I can't tell if Merlin actually be believes in destiny or not, because he's serving Arthur, sure, but he's also stopping people from trying to kill him on a regular basis, so if he's so sure Mordred will be the one to kill him, why isn't he just leaving the prince defenceless because surely other stuff can't kill him then?

Of course, Merlin is like an 18-19 year-old who's just been told he's a messiah figure when in reality he's human and believes he's a monster when he clearly wants things to black and white instead of complicated so I'm going to cut him some slack, but the show doesn't seem to have any idea whether Merlin is someone who follows his head or heart. If he saves Mordred then he doesn't need to be wary of Morgana (in season 1 and 2) right? If Morgana goes evil and he's decided destiny is right then he should tell Mordred where to get off right?

Merlin is human, makes mistakes, is affected by emotions and of course, his most powerful motivator consists of his loved ones. Naturally, he does stuff like this wrong. These situations actually make more sense than some of the utterly dumb decisions people have taken over the course of this show. If only people could be smart and properly think things through. . . . *shrugs*

Anyway, what actually, to me, is wrong in the Merlin finale is that they give us nothing that was promised. There can be two interpretations to the prophecy:

What happened was actually what was destined. Arthur is called the Once and Future King because he fought for his subjects in a legendary battle with legendary people, ushering in an era of peace and magic, where Gwen ruled with Merlin and he will come back when he's needed. Many people believe this.

Kilgharrah and the druids were completely and utterly wrong.

Personally, I believe the first one. Which is fine, but then they should have SHOWED US the bloody golden age. All we got was Gwen's coronation! Where is her being a badass and just ruler with Merlin, Leon, Percival etc. By her side despite some opposing her? Where is us getting to see Albion? Where is them grieving Arthur and Gwaine and the others but moving forward in their honour? Where is Merlin acting as a Gaius like figure for Gwen's child? Where is Gilli coming back and him and Merlin and Aithusa and Merlin being friends? Where are druids celebrating and some cursing Merlin for taking so long and not helping them before? Where is darkness coming in later shown and Arthur coming out of the lake and Merlin and him reuniting? (Okay, the last doesn't have to be there but I like the idea and closure).

Albion and magic being free was always promised. Arthur not being the one to actually do it could've been the tragic twist in the tale, but we never got to see it at all.

And in S1 and S2 I'd hardly expect Merlin to do anything for fellow sorcerer's - he's too busy trying to figure himself out and not be depressed and protect Arthur - but what about S3?

What about after Dragoon?

Imagine Arthur wondering aloud to Merlin why a sorcerer would place a useless poultice under his bed, since he knows very well his feelings for Gwen are real. After he learns of Morgana's betrayal, imagine him wondering why someone else would take the blame.

Imagine Merlin going to the Druid camp as Dragoon and learning about the culture he's expected to being back. Imagine him going down to prisoners accused of sorcery and learning about what they did - if it was spreading disease or killing or stealing, he'd leave them there with a colourful sticky note detailing their crime with an underlined NOT SORCERY BUT. Imagine him breaking out others with NOT A SORCERER, I SHOULD BE ABLE TO TELL and HE JUST HEALED HIS KID, WHAT WOULD YOU DO?

Imagine him setting up a hut and giving out magical healing in the form of Dragoon - we've already seen he can take down knights and avoid the pyre easily.

Imagine Arthur begrudgingly admiring the guy who helps his people. Imagine him questioning his views on magic. Imagine Dragoon being able to share secrets about magic, like Morgause telling the truth and the prophecy, that Merlin can't without being questioned. Imagine Dragoon yelling at Arthur to treat Merlin better, and telling him that Merlin's 'feelings' about bandits and stuff are real.

Arthur would probably take this as evidence that Merlin has potential for magic. He'd angst about it and then decide there's no way his best friend with his idiotic wide grin, the one who cries over unicorns would ever go evil.

Imagine Morgana learning about this new sorcerer and becoming curious about him. Imagine them exchanging letters and Morgana getting another view on magic without Merlin risking his own identity (because Morgana was the King's ward and he was a servant, he's been taught caution all his life, can't really blame him for not being so open about his secret even to a fellow magic user) and not being able to be fully brainwashed by Morgause. Imagine Morgana wanting Uther dead and magic become legal and revenge on Merlin but not indiscriminate killing, especially Arthur and Gwen's.

Imagine Uther trying and trying to get Dragoon and ultimately giving up when Gaius gives zero suggestions and his son and ward are clearly not going to offer their help either.

Imagine Dragoon becoming beloved by the entire citadel.

Imagine Arthur slowly unraveling the way views on magic have affected every single law in Camelot. Going to Dragoon, the sorcerer who's extremely blase about Arthur's status, who gave out insults like he gave out magic candy to the town kids, whom he still implicitly trusts and who seems familiar for some reason, for advice. Because magic just suddenly becoming legal is just so extremely unrealistic.

When Uther dies (either by Morgana or natural means, doesn't matter) Arthur grieves and declares that though his father was a good king there were many policies he disagreed with. Extreme revamp.

Imagine Dragoon being able to keep Aithusa because - "That batty old sorcerer is a dragon lord too? No surprise. As long the dragon is under control and my kid stops crying for a ride on it, nobody really cares."

Imagine Arthur actually being the King of the Golden Age as promised. Imagine Druids being able to come into town, with both sides wary of each other, but actually cooperative. Imagine Arthur making mistakes like killing Odin, but also becoming better and stronger because of those. Imagine new treaties being forged among the countries of Albion.

Imagine Dragoon being able to tell Arthur about his suspicious of Agravaine being a traitor, and with him and Merlin agreeing, Arthur actually thinks about it.

Imagine Gwaine saying one day "I wasn't supposed to know you are Dragoon? Sorry, mate, that failed."

Imagine Merlin wrestling with himself about telling Arthur because Gwaine and Lancelot know and magic is no longer illegal and his excuses are getting thinner and thinner. But can he survive losing Arthur's trust and friendship? Imagine him hinting and trying before losing his nerve. Imagine Arthur being concerned but then. . .

Imagine the Saxons still invading, with or without Morgana. They invade all the countries of Albion, and with the treaties, all the monarchs turn to Arthur. Arthur truly unites Albion.

He still had to kill Kara, who was a radical. Mordred turned on him. But there were more sorcerers on Albion's side than just Dragoon. Imagine Arthur dying, seeing Dragoon transform into Merlin.

The final betrayal. The deathbed confession.

Maybe because Merlin was able to train in magic better so he was able to stabilize Arthur better till the Lake. Maybe, if Morgana doesn't betray them, they reach the Lake faster because less interruptions.

Maybe Arthur still dies with "Just hold me". But he also jokes "I can't believe I didn't realize only one person in the country would call me ridiculous insults like toadface." Two people he loved and trusted are one. After the initial emotions, he doesn't really mind. Loving an older guy so much was kind of weird anyway. And - "That's why Dragoon looked so familiar! And defended you so much! You were talking about yourself so much, seriously? I thought sometimes he was your grandfather or something."

Albion had its golden age. Arthur's prophecy was fulfilled. He will come again, because once may be over, but the future isn't.

Gwen rules, but without needing to make any big changes because Arthur already did all that. The golden age continues. Merlin as her open right hand man the way he was never able to do with Arthur.

If Arthur lives, we get our true happily ever after.

Either way, we see Merlin and Arthur's complete journeys. Arthur from a complete prat of a prince who worshipped his father to inexperienced regent/king questioning all his choices and his father's decisions to the true Once and Future King, making Camelot and Albion flourish.

Merlin from a teenager thinking he's a monster to a glorious sorcerer who's had his fair share of bad decisions, but also experience, the true Emrys with a life outside his destiny.

Would've been more fulfilling for me, at least.

[potentialbreakupscng]

"You can do that? Merlin's beard," he breathed, reaching up to pull his fingers through his hair with his eyebrows pressed together. He never really paid attention to whenever their parents would prattle on about dark magic -- and being around the Potters, they didn't even speak of it. He never thought anything like that was possible, let alone that souls actually existed. "Do you know how many he has? Or is this a one time deal, kind of thing?"

His eyes immediately snap up to him, shaking his head. Slender hands cup his brothers cheeks and he shakes his head. "If you think I'm going to let you do that, then you clearly don't remember just how stubborn I am, Reggie." He shook his head, tilting his brother's head back so their eyes could meet. "Our parents couldn't give a shit what happens to us, Reggie -- and I will not let you sacrifice yourself for anyone, especially not them. Or me." He pulls him into another hug, clutching him against his chest and nodding. "When Moony gets back, probably with Albus, we'll figure it out, alright? Take a secret keeper or something. Anything, Reggie. I just -- I don't want you to do this alone." They had already done so much a part -- and knowing that his brother had almost died ... he didn't even want to think about it. He pulled away and looked at him, eyes flicking along his face. "Now, stop playing the martyr and tell me what you need right now. That has nothing to do with you-know-who and his whore-cracks," he grinned to let him know he was fully aware of his mispronunciation, "And get you into some warm clothes or something else. C'mon." He stood and held out his hand. "You're a flight risk so you're not leaving my sight."

Taking another sip of water, he can start feeling the effects of the potion washing away with it and his mind clearing. Even as his brother places his hands on his shoulder, it helps ground Regulus and bring him comfort with the fact Sirius still cares for him despite the path he had taken as a Death Eater. Silent tears fall from his blue eyes, but this time instead of being caused by the effects of the Drink of Despair, it's over all the love he has for his family and his big brother who always protected him---and still continues to do so. He can't help but be reduced to that little kid around Sirius.

"The locket---it's a Horcrux, brother. It's something that will help make the Dark Lord vulnerable. If anything, maybe Dumbledore will know how to destroy it or what to do with it." Regulus said with desperation, watching as Lupin left with it, feeling himself calm down a little with the realization that if anything, the headmaster would known better and probably be able to offer protection for him and his family.

"I don't know if he already knows...but I don't doubt he will find out, eventually." He can't help but glance down at the Dark Mark on his left arm, wondering if it would start burning and giving him a sign that Voldemort had found out what he did. But it didn't. Not yet, anyway. "Only you three know. I wasn't sure where to go. I panicked. But I don't want to put you in harms way. If...if he comes for me, brother, I'll just let him take me. I don't want you, Kreacher or even our parents ending up in the crossfire because of what I've done." He would gladly give his life to protect his family and friends. It was only the right thing to do now to make up for his terrible decision of joining the Death Eaters to begin with. Feeling his body shake with tiredness and fear over all that has happened, Regulus can't help but still be concerned for the safety of his family before his own needs. "I won't stay here long if there's a chance I'm putting you in danger, brother. If you can assure me you and our family will be safe or if Dumbledore can offer protection, then I'll stay, otherwise...I have to keep moving."

[god-of-dust]

after much deliberation, i decided to post what i wrote of chapter 2 and 3 of Trick Me here. this will probably never end up on ao3 because of Reasons, but someone might enjoy reading it and i definitely enjoy the validation. (also, leaving this to rot in my folder seems like a waste.)

this is rated T, no particular warnings apply besides tom’s occasional murderous thoughts.

-----

There’s no sign of Potter. Figures. Tom glares at the suit of armour as if it’s the one meant to carry the blame for this situation.

Disillusionment Charm firmly in place, he leans on the rough stone wall and resigns himself to wait.

“You’re early. Why am I not surprised?”

In a split second, Tom turns in the direction of the voice and points his wand towards... the empty corridor?

Then Potter’s head—only his head—emerges from thin air.

“Jumpy, too. Again, not surprised,” Potter says, smirking. Then he moves, revealing the rest of his body and the rippling fabric of a cloak.

An Invisibility Cloak. No wonder Potter can get wherever he wants without getting caught. “Where did you get that?” Tom asks, envy colouring every word. That kind of Cloak is worth thousands of Galleons, which is more money than Tom has ever possessed in his entire life.

The things Tom could do with one... he’d have no need for permission to slide beyond the wards of the forbidden section of the library. While certainly tame compared to what a collection from a Dark pureblood family would hold, there are also many old books there that Tom has been dying to get his hands on since he’s seen their titles and felt the power they contained.

“Family heirloom,” Potter says with a shrug.

Of course Potter has a family that provides for him, and of course he has the gall to shrug, like it’s absolutely normal to carry around an object this valuable and use it to go to the Quidditch pitch at night. It’s maddening, to witness this utter lack of ambition in someone who has so much at his disposal and wastes it so pitifully.

He reaches out to touch the fabric. It’s soft and perfect, spells woven so beautifully that it appears not to be enchanted at all. He refuses to believe that this Potter is the one who cast them. “What kind of spells does your family use to prevent the magic from fading? How frequently do you have to refresh them?”

Potter only smiles and shakes his head. “You and Hermione would be amazing together if you just stopped being an arse to her.”

Tom glares at him. His thoughts on that particular topic must be crystal clear, because Potter laughs that full-bellied laugh of his. “You haven’t answered my question,” Tom insists.

“Do you want to stand in the corridor all night discussing my cloak? I thought we had Quidditch to play.”

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Tom says: “Fine.”

“Get under here, then,” Potter beckons, holding a side of the cloak open for Tom to slip under and cover himself.

Sliding in the offered space, Tom instantly becomes very aware of how close they have to stay for them both to be concealed. Wonderful, he thinks, just wonderful. Just what I needed: more contact with him.

He lets Potter lead the way outside; after a bit of fumbling, they find a rhythm that allows them to walk in sync without constantly bumping into each other’s shoulder.

“Thank Merlin you’re shorter than Ron. His feet try to peek out all the time, it’s an absolute nightmare.”

Are his friends all he can talk about? Tom vaguely wonders, before noticing the route they’re taking. “The Quidditch pitch is the other way.”

“We’re not going to the pitch,” Potter replies.

Tom stops in his tracks, making the cloak tangle around Potter’s form; unsurprisingly, it only takes a moment for the miraculous Golden Boy to recover his balance. Tom, voice strained with the effort to keep it under control, hisses: “If you’re trying to trick me, Potter, I swear—”

“I’m not,” Potter interrupts. “The pitch is too open and couples go there to shag all the time, so the chances of someone seeing us are too high. I’m taking you to a place only I and my closest friends know about.”

Again with his friends. “Are you really so arrogant as to believe you’re the only one that knows anything about Hogwarts?”

This time, Potter is the one who stills abruptly. He turns to face Tom, noses almost touching under the cloak, eyes ablaze with an emotion that Tom has never seen on him: genuine, unfiltered anger. “Listen, Riddle. I offered my help, but what I didn’t offer was being target practice for your fucking abrasiveness. You want to learn Quidditch? I can teach you. You want to act like a bastard? Go do that somewhere else, because I’m not afraid to punch you in the face if you insist on constantly accusing me of imaginary crimes.”

“As if I’m not able to defend myself from your punches,” Tom snarls.

Potter’s eyes narrow. “Were you even listening to me?”

There’s nothing stopping Tom from hexing Potter into the next century; nothing, except for the fact that he’d be expelled and then the whole Potter clan would ensure that he’d rot in Azkaban for an indeterminate amount of years. Right now, it seems like a minor price to pay.

He keeps his twitching fingers away from his wand. He needs to hold himself in check if he wants to avoid Potter’s suspicion. After a steadying breath, he says evenly: “I was. My words were... out of line. I apologise.”

Silence stretches while Potter stares at him. Then he turns on his heels, facing away, and they resume their walking.

It takes them a few minutes to reach the boundary of looming trees that students are supposed to never cross. “Is this secret place of yours really inside the Forest?”

“Yeah. That’s why I’m reasonably sure that no one else has discovered it. A wrong turn would take them either into an Acromantula nest or in centaur territory,” Potter explains, navigating with sure steps amidst trunks and twigs and weeds and bushes as if he owns the place.

Both options are incredibly dangerous, for many different reasons. Not even the Headmaster has jurisdiction over the creatures in the Forest, and any reckless student who wanders too far is responsible for their own fate. Over the years, Tom has done a little exploring of his own to gather herbs, shed fur and other potion ingredients, but he never went as deep inside as wherever Potter is taking them now. “How did you discover it, then?” Tom asks while memorising the convoluted trail so that he’ll be able to return later. The potions he could brew with even a small vial of Acromantula venom, or some eggs... he has to find out more about those supposedly wrong turns.

“I followed my nose,” Potter says with a mischievous smirk, previous anger washed away like a leaf in a river. “And perhaps I had a bit of help.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Well, sorry, but I’m not going to divulge my secrets to anyone who asks... besides, you’re smart enough; perhaps with time you’ll figure it out on your own.”

Focus still firmly placed on their surroundings, Tom ignores the compliment. He has no use for Potter’s pretense.

A large clearing suddenly materialises before them, encircled by towering trees whose foliage forms a protective half-dome high over their heads. Ancient magic caresses Tom’s skin, making him shiver with anticipation. There’s a circular area in the center, large enough to hold a dozen people, empty of any grass or stone; Tom is certain that someone has built it that way on purpose. He steps closer, prudent and fascinated in equal measure. “What is this place?” he wonders, eyes wide and searching as he studies the stone while taking in the feeling of rightness and inspiration the space emanates.

“Somewhere where we can have all the privacy we want,” Potter says lightly as he slides off the cloak from their shoulders. To him, this secret spot humming with magic that vibrates in Tom’s blood and bones must be just another day, just another priceless thing dropped on his lap that he wields without a care.

After enchanting a few Lumos spheres to hover around them, Potter extracts a small object from his pocket, lays it on the even ground and enlarges it with a wave of his wand, revealing it to be a trunk. Then he points to a twisted root that peeks out from the soil and transfigures it into three Quidditch hoops, about three meters high.

“I assume you know about Quidditch roles and rules even if you’ve never played, correct?”

“Yes.” Tom’s skimmed through a Quidditch book, if only not to be completely unprepared when it came to playing his part in this charade. He will carry his plan forward and rip the rug from under Potter’s feet, even if it involves studying a few tedious rules of a tedious sport.

“So, you can probably imagine that every role requires different skills, which is why we’ll explore every one of them and gradually build up your stamina and reflexes while you discover what you’re naturally good at.” He scratches at his head contemplatively. “When was the last time you rode a broom?”

“First year flying classes. I was average at the basics and never tried anything more elaborate.” Tom isn’t eager to recall most of those memories because, in truth, it had been humiliating to realise how far behind his peers he was. Unlike them, he’d never had a broom of his own to practice and his confidence had faltered when he needed it the most. The broom’s magic had caught on his hesitation and thus his performance had been lukewarm at best.

“Yeah, I can imagine it wasn’t pleasing for you. Hermione was the same. You really can’t stand it when you don’t excel at something, huh?”

“I doubt anyone enjoys the feeling of being incompetent.”

“Good point,” Potter admits, “but that’s not the attitude you need right now. You always have to start from somewhere and build from there, even if that starting point isn’t as glorious as you’d like.” He squats to open the trunk; it contains a clearly well-loved yet also well-kept set of Quidditch balls.

Tom eyes suspiciously the Bludgers struggling against the chains holding them in place.

“Since we’re starting from the basics, tonight we’re both going to play Chasers, which means that we’ll pass the Quaffle between us and do our best to score through the goals. Of course, there’s more to being a Chaser than this, but it will be enough for now. Before that, though, I want to see you on a broom.”

“I don’t have one. I presumed we’d use one of the school brooms,” Tom says, crossing his arms, mild irritation colouring his tone.

Unbothered, Potter reaches again into his pocket to produce two shrunken brooms. “I brought my Nimbus. It’s very good, especially for a beginner, with quick responses and great stability.”

He holds out his hand and Tom takes the now appropriately sized broom. “...Thank you.”

“Wow, you’re really making an effort into being polite. I appreciate that,” Potter says, apparently pleased. “But now, Riddle, show me how you ride.”

There’s nothing in Potter’s smile and in that particular phrasing that Tom could possibly care for. He straddles the broom and pushes himself to hover in mid-air, one meter from the ground and then one more; feeling how precarious and uncertain his posture is, he does his best to correct it.

“Good. You don’t seem to be struggling much. Are you afraid of heights?”

Tom shoots him a venomous look. “No.”

“That’s one less thing we have to worry about, then.” Potter jumps on his broom and rises too, graceful as a phoenix. Bastard. “Let’s try some loops.”

Tom nods and watches as Potter demonstrates a few simple figures: circle, spiral, figure-eight. They seem easy enough, but when Tom tries to follow Potter’s directions his broom moves in shaky zig-zags instead of the smooth curves he expects it to perform.

“This broom isn’t working,” Tom snarls. He looks at Potter, who’s certainly dying to make fun of him... only to find no trace of sadistic glee on his expression.

Potter circles around him, examining him from head to toe with furrowed brows, almost hawk-like in his focus. “You’re clenching your thighs and hands too hard. The broom reads that as a sign for ‘straight line’ and ‘speed’, and right now that’s not your objective. For curves like these, you have to flow with the movement and lean into the direction you want without overbalancing.” His posture is relaxed, bordering on lazy, as he flies in a large, slow circle for Tom’s sake. “Like this.”

Tom imitates him as best as he can, loosening his grip. “What if I want to achieve a fast curve?”

“Fast curves are more advanced. We’ll try those later.”

Tom tries again with a figure-eight, and he’s surprised when he finds that the broom’s following the path he intended with increasing ease.

“See? Way better,” Potter beams. He looks like he’s genuinely enjoying this.

After a few minutes of loops, Tom’s acquired a mild amount of confidence in his form; at least the feeling that he’ll tip over every time he steers the broom has lessened until it’s nearly gone. Seemingly satisfied, Potter instructs him on how to repeat the same figures with a single-handed grip, then handless, as he explains: “You’ll need your hands free for the Quaffle.”

Even while going through boring drills at this insignificant height, there’s an undeniable thrill to flying, to acquiring control over something as elusive as air. “One day,” he declares, “I’m going to invent broomless flying.” Perhaps a variation of Wingardium Leviosa, combined with a Feather-Light Charm... yes, he’ll do it, and succeed.

“That would be amazing. And honestly, if anyone could do that it would be you.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” Tom scoffs, close to amused. Does Potter really think that compliments will have any effect on him? Tom’s too acquainted with the subtle art of manipulation to take any of Potter’s amateurish attempts seriously.

Potter rolls his eyes. “It’s not flattery, it’s me making an observation. Every single person in Hogwarts knows that your knowledge and control over magic are impressive.” Smoothly diving forwards, Potter reaches for the trunk and grabs the Quaffle inside it.

“Catch!” he says, and throws the ball at Tom.

Instincts rearing up before he can think, Tom steers sideways to dodge, but he’s too quick, too sudden, the broom refuses to cooperate—fuck, he’s lost his balance, he’s going to slip off and fall on his face like a bloody—

An arm slides around his torso, holding him up. A steady hand over the handle of his broom stops its lurching. Tom is barely breathing, his mind catching up to the fact that he’s not going to become one with the forest soil.

“Shit, Tom, I’m sorry, I thought you were ready, I should have warned you—”

Heart still finding the way back to its regular beat, Tom interrupts Potter’s rambling: “It’s fine. Nothing happened.”

“Well it was a stupid thing to do, and I won’t do it again,” Potter insists, wide eyes painfully green even in the dark.

“Just drop it, will you?” It’s embarrassing enough that he ran away from a Quaffle like it was the Killing Curse; Potter’s self-flagellation is just rubbing more salt on the wound. As if he hasn’t done it on purpose anyway, the fucking prick.

With a sigh, the arm around Tom tightens briefly before Potter releases him. “Do you want to stop? We’ve done a lot already. You’ve been great.”

More useless flattering.

“Let’s try again,” Tom orders. He wants to challenge Potter, confuse him, shock him, give him a lesson that he’ll never forget. The plan to ruin his reputation isn’t enough; the matter has become personal.

Uncertain, Potter nods. This time, when the Quaffle comes towards him Tom catches it, albeit unsteadily. A victorious glint in his eyes, he does his best to throw Potter off-balance by flinging the ball back at him.

The back-and-forth of the Quaffle between them slowly acquires a flow. Potter accepts Tom’s viciousness and in turn pushes Tom’s limits, building his reflexes with progressively more elaborate throws, flying around him in circles like an annoying snidget. Tom fumbles, stumbles, grumbles, but he manages to avoid another fall, and he even scores a few points through the unprotected goals.

By the end of the lesson they’re both sweating—disgusting—and Potter is positively radiating joy.

Tom can’t say the same about himself. His performance’s been nowhere near satisfactory, his dexterity and form nowhere near Potter’s. While he still holds no interest for Quidditch, he also can’t stand the thought that Potter can have this golden opportunity to gloat over him. There’s no way that Tom will accept being considered inferior to anyone.

“So, uh... how was it?” Potter asks once they’ve dismounted, self-consciously running a hand through his hair. It looks like a habit of his.

“You’ve been patient,” Tom concedes. It’s true, at least on the surface: Potter’s been nothing but helpful and tolerant of every mistake, adapting his teaching to Tom’s pace with flawless precision. “I could have done better.”

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake,” Potter says, “will you stop with the self-deprecation? You’re learning. It’s all part of the process. Believe me, I’ve seen worse.”

Tom hands the Nimbus back to Potter, who’s extinguishing the enchanted lights and reverting the goal posts back to their original shape. “You’ve also seen best, I reckon.”

Potter huffs in annoyance as he takes the broom and stores it away along with the rest of the equipment. “Yes, and it doesn’t matter. This isn’t a competition. The whole point of us being in the middle of the forest instead of the pitch is that you can be away from judgemental eyes, so could you please stop being your own worst critic?”

“We should go.” If Potter considers having standards the same as self-deprecation, then Tom has nothing else to say. “I can find my way back.” He turns to follow the hidden trail that led them here.

“Wait,” Potter says, interrupting Tom as he was about to cast a wordless Disillusionment Charm on himself. “Do you want to do this again? More lessons?”

Does Tom want to? Is the headache of spending time with Potter worth it?

Like a sharp edge, a thorn stuck in his side, Potter’s words echo in his head. This isn’t a competition. But it is, in a way—it’s Tom’s endurance against his desire to chalk up the whole plan as a failure and sweep it under the rug.

And Potter is still an issue—he still needs to go down in flames, and Tom is the one who has to ignite that fire.

He straightens his back. I won’t quit now. “Same time, next Saturday?”

“I’ll be here,” Potter says. It sounds like a promise.

##

[missing scene with Tom and snake-Harry]

##

At half past eleven on Saturday, Harry prepares to slip away from the Gryffindor dormitory under his Cloak.

“Ron, hey,” he whispers in the darkness of the dormitory, shaking his friend’s shoulder.

Still more than half-asleep, refusing to open his eyes, Ron mutters, “What?”

“I’m going out, will probably be late again. Don’t wait for me, okay?” He’s a little ashamed of taking advantage of Ron while he’s in this state, knowing that he won’t ask questions.

“Yeah, yeah—g’night, mate,” Ron says, words slurred as the dream world ensnares him again.

Then Harry leaves, sliding through the many corridors of the castle as if he were in his Animagus form, until he crosses the entrance; outside he can run, free, breathing in the cold wind that chills his face and lungs. He feels so light, like the world is full of exciting possibilities, like he’s on the hunt for something marvellous.

Yes, he hates hiding these nighttime escapades from his friends. However, he also loves the secret thrill of this undefined thing he and Tom have, this strange agreement that’s neither friendship nor rivalry, while not being neutral either. He knows, he can see that Tom—and how weird it is, that he already thinks of him as such—still despises him... yet he’s also invested in Harry in a way that goes beyond simple hatred or spite.

He could have used many excuses to get his hands on Harry’s Firebolt and sabotage it. He could have cursed Harry himself, especially with how close they’ve been, and Harry has no doubt that Tom possesses a sizable arsenal of slow-building, undetectable curses that would have sent Harry to his grave with no one the wiser.

But then, how absurd it is that Harry’s still not afraid to know that a part of Tom, a loud and powerful one, would rejoice in his pain and in having caused it?

He’s certain that Tom Riddle’s bite is deadly venomous, and he’s been thirsting for Harry’s blood for a long time. The bane of his existence, indeed.

Yet Harry saw something else during their time together: the fierce competitiveness, the stubbornness, the drive towards excellence, the desire to be greater than anyone... and also the insecurity, the self-loathing, the fear hidden behind harsh perfectionism, the sense of not being enough, of having to push himself harder, of not belonging anywhere, of being unloved and unlovable.

Tom Riddle is human and flawed. And he has bite, yes, but along with the venom comes a blazing fire that he keeps carefully concealed under his detached, polished façade. Harry wants to witness more of that fire, wants to bask in it, wants to revel in the privilege of being the one who can bring it out.

He knows what Tom could do, the potential of his cruelty. However, night after night, he discovers an inescapable curiosity for what Tom will do.

A laughter, full and thrilling, shakes Harry’s body as he skips through the forest, jumping over traitorous roots and avoiding thorn bushes intent on drawing blood.

Tom, of course, has already arrived.

Harry admires the transfigured goal posts, smoother and more symmetrical than how his own half-arsed magic would ever mold them, and thinks, This is going to be fun.

“Eager?” Harry can’t help but tease.

Tom gives him one of his looks. “I don’t like wasting time.”

“Of course. Let’s get to it, then.”

Like last time, Harry offers Tom his Nimbus; they warm up by playing with the Quaffle, letting Tom reacquaint himself with the feeling of flying by revisiting a few of the trickier turns. Tom’s control over the borrowed broomstick is still shaky and hesitant, which he clearly hates with a passion, but he’s also improved considerably in a small amount of time.

This may be the one thing in which Tom Riddle isn’t a natural. However, for some reason he’s actually putting in an effort to learn, which leaves Harry wondering why. Merlin knows Tom’s mind works in mysterious ways, and even after spending a few nights with him as a snake and witnessing his unfiltered rants Harry’s not closer to understanding his convoluted reasoning.

“Tonight I think you could try your hand at playing Keeper.”

Tom, always straight to the point, immediately flies towards the transfigured hoops and circles around them. “On a practical level, how is it different from playing Chaser, anyway? The ball is the same, it’s just a matter of catching it as we’ve already been doing.”

Harry feels an appraising smile rise on his lips. “Interesting question,” he replies, turning the Quaffle in his hands. “I believe the main difference is in the freedom of movement. As a Chaser, you can follow the trajectory and position of the Quaffle and other players in the way that’s most convenient for you, while as a Keeper you have to stay in a confined area, since leaving the goals unguarded equals failure. You need sharper eyes and quicker reflexes, which is why I considered it more advanced.”

“But the smaller area should make it easier, not harder,” Tom says with a small frown.

“Theory is theory, practice is practice. You’ll see by yourself.”

“Let’s begin, then.” He looks impatient, and Harry privately thinks that it’s kind of adorable. Perhaps my love for Quidditch is rubbing off on him. Or perhaps he’s just that competitive.

So Harry begins throwing and Tom begins to understand Harry’s point as the Quaffle slides under his guard and passes easily through the hoops time after time. With sweaty hair plastered to his forehead, eyes aflame and gritted teeth, Tom struggles to prevent Harry’s craftiness from allowing him to score yet another point. He’s only managed to catch five out of twenty-four throws.

“You have to keep in mind that I’m not an actual Chaser myself,” Harry says, immensely enjoying the murderous look on Tom’s face. “This could be way worse.”

Tom stills, holding the ball as if he wants to strangle it. “You do so love to make fun of me,” he snarls. “Idiot Tom Riddle, who’s never learned to play Quidditch, who can’t even catch a bloody Quaffle. Must be so nice to sit on your throne and laugh at my pathetic attempts.”

The aggressiveness in Tom’s tone makes Harry feel all kinds of ruffled, and perhaps he should be keeping his mouth shut, but when has he ever listened to reason? So he says, “I thought you had more spine than this, for someone who sits on his throne and laughs at others all the time.”

“What?” Tom says, eyes narrow and voice sharp as a potioneer’s blade.

“You heard me. Is it fun, being an arsehole to Hermione and who knows how many others? How does it feel when you are the one whose efforts feel inadequate, Tom?”

“It’s Riddle, to you.”

“Well then, Riddle: how does it feel? And mind you, I was teasing you as I would with a friend, but I could also be cruel and cutting like you. I could get on the same level of ‘polite bastard’ you seem to revel in.”

The look Tom gives him is utterly blank, which could be seen as an improvement over being murderous, or could also mean that he’s so much more murderous than usual that he’s already on the phase where he’s choosing how to dispose of Harry’s body.

Harry sighs. This is all pointless. Tom hates him, will always hate him, and they’re just dancing around each other waiting for the perfect opportunity to... what? Tom is most likely waiting for Harry to lower his guard enough for him to strike undetected, but what does Harry want? What’s his excuse for being here?

Perhaps this time his curiosity is better left alone.

“Forget what I just said. I’ve been an arsehole,” Harry says. “We don’t have to do this if you’re so frustrated it makes you miserable.”

“Is this what you think of me? That I go around lording my knowledge over people?” Tom doesn’t sound angry—he just stares at Harry like he’s speaking in a different language.

“From what I’ve seen of you... well, yes,” Harry says, uncertain. He feels like this whole conversation is balancing on a very delicate thread. “It’s not overt, but you do act superior and rub your grades on other people’s faces, with those condescending smirks and such... and I don’t believe that you don’t do that on purpose.”

“I—do that,” Tom admits quietly, almost disturbed by the revelation. Even more interesting, he appears to be honestly considering it. “Perhaps... it’s a bit excessive.”

“We all know you’re the most skilled student in this school anyway. It’s not just about grades—you clearly have a touch, a passion for magic that can’t be found in books and that most of us can’t hope to replicate.”

Tom’s eyes catch Harry’s then, a blazing intensity passing between them that makes Harry feel… funny. “You’re telling the truth. You do think that.”

“Yeah. I mean, it’s pretty obvious, isn’t it?”

“Not coming from you.”

Harry frowns. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“You—” Tom pauses, raking a hand through his already mussed-up hair. He looks more unbuttoned than Harry’s ever seen him. “I’m not sure.”

“That you wanted to murder me in my sleep, probably,” Harry says unthinkingly. He knows that Tom has never been confused on his opinion of Harry; he’s heard enough dramatics when Tom’s spoken to him as Ezra, long tales on how insufferable Harry is, and how much of an attention-seeker, how brainless and privileged, and so on.

Surprisingly, Tom laughs. It’s brief, blink-and-you’ll miss it, but it’s happened.

Tom Riddle has laughed.

“I might have considered it, yes,” Tom confesses, not even remotely apologetic.

Harry is shocked and more charmed than he’d like to admit. “I don’t know what to do with this sudden honesty.”

Tom shakes his head, and he’s still smiling—not smirking, but smiling—and he looks as unbalanced as Harry feels. “Neither do I.” He locks eyes with Harry, and for a few brief seconds there’s that intensity again; then he breaks the spell to Accio the Quaffle from where he’d dropped it. “Let me try again.”

“Sure,” Harry says, quietly thrilled.

##

[missing scene with Tom and snake-Harry]

##

The trunk containing Potter’s Quidditch equipment sits on the forest floor, lid open. Tom studies the set of chained Bludgers and lifts an eyebrow. “Last time you said that in this lesson I was supposed to ‘learn my way around a Beater’s bat’.” The unspoken question of why Potter hasn’t handed him any bat yet hangs in the air.

“Yeah, I said that, but then I realised that Bludgers might not be the best idea right now,” Potter admits, shrugging. “You’re probably already familiar with how they work from a spectator’s point of view, but this is another instance of theory being very different from practice.”

“In short, you believe I’m not able to undertake this particular task,” Tom says. Of course Potter wouldn’t consider him worthy enough for the scary, angry balls, not when Tom still struggles with inconsistent balance and shaky steering at the best of times. Furthermore, Potter’s famed superior abilities allow him to keenly judge the depth of Tom’s incompetency and find him wanting.

Unimpressed by Tom’s logic, Potter rolls his eyes. “Is it necessary for you to be so dramatic?”

“Don’t bother with lying. We both know it’s the truth,” Tom insists. He has no patience for this display of futile denial.

“It’s a distorted version of the truth, so you can beat yourself up for not being perfect enough, or some crap along those lines. Yes, it’s probably not safe for you to engage with Bludgers yet. No, it doesn’t mean that you’re useless of whatever you’re telling yourself.”

“You seem awfully confident in your ability to interpret my thoughts.” Out of ingrained habit, Tom reinforces his Occlumency shields. While it’s unlikely that Potter has the wits and finesse to master the delicate art of Legilimency, he’s also revealed himself to be unpredictable in many occasions. Better safe than sorry.

“Maybe you’re just obvious,” Potter says dismissively, before tapping his wand on the small set of chains that holds the Golden Snitch in place at the center of the trunk. The ball springs free, only for Potter to catch it immediately with practiced ease and a gleam in his eyes that promises nothing good for Tom. “Tonight we’re Seeking.”

“Will the Snitch’s movements be restricted to this clearing, or will we have to follow its path amongst the trees?”

“Only the clearing,” Potter confirms with a small smile.

Tom lets his gaze roam to evaluate the length and breadth of the space. The shiny surface of the ball would be easily discernible against the dark background. “Seems feasible.”

The smile on Potter’s face grows wider. “Let’s begin, then.”

What followed were blurred hours of Tom fumbling his way through sharp turns, desperately trying to keep himself from losing his grip, then losing it anyway at every attempt to catch the blasted ball, then trying to regain his balance, then remembering to loosen his posture, then failing at commanding his limbs to go on a single direction, thus dipping downwards at uncontrollable speed until he would have surely eaten grass if not for Potter’s steadying hand.

Once they finally touch the ground, Tom flings away Potter’s broom, rage painting his world in red. He doesn’t give a single fuck about the bloody stick of wood and the bloody Snitch, he’s bruised all over the place and he’s sick of this, he won’t stand a single second of humiliating himself any further, he’s utterly and completely done. “How do you fucking do this?” Tom roars. “Why would you willingly subject yourself to this torture?”

“Uh, T—Riddle—”

“I don’t know what I was thinking,” Tom goes on, ignoring him. “Why I even considered to accept this whole ordeal as if it deserves any of my time.”

“Riddle, I told you, this isn’t an obligation,” Potter says. “We can stop, it’s okay.” He’s dismounted too, and he stands there, slowly and cautiously inching towards Tom.

‘It’s okay’—as if Tom needs to be soothed or, worse, coddled. The infantilising undertones make Tom want to tear Potter to shreds. There’s a Cruciatus on the tip of his tongue, waiting to be unleashed, waiting for him to reap Potter’s pain for witnessing Tom making a fool of himself and daring to treat him like a volatile child. I doubt he’ll be so entertained when he’s contorting on the ground, screaming his lungs out, he thinks savagely, extracting his wand from its holster.

As the first syllable of the curse leaves Tom’s mouth, red light charging on the tip of his wand, Potter is fast—he crouches and rolls away from its trajectory, touching down over the stone in the middle of the clearing and drawing up a Shield Charm strong enough that Tom can hear it crackling like lightning. “What the fuck, Riddle?” he snaps, but there’s no surprise or fear on his face, only the sharp focus of a seasoned duellist.

Unfortunately for Potter, a mere Shield Charm isn’t enough to deter Tom; many Dark curses are designed to eat through them like a parchment set aflame. He smiles, all teeth, and Potter seems to sense his intentions, eyes narrowing.

Then the unthinkable happens.

Potter casts non-verbally at the same time Tom’s spell almost strikes home; the jets of their magic meet in midair and twine together in a single stream of pure gold light. Birdsong erupts, filling the space with an otherworldly melody, while luminous threads of magic are birthed from the stream like a spiderweb, surrounding Tom and Harry in a dome until the forest disappears beyond the shimmering brilliance.

What in Salazar’s name is this?

The entirety of Tom’s world is reduced to this moment in time, to Potter’s green eyes reflecting the light. Mesmerised, Tom watches as beads of light appear in the stream of their magic. His wand vibrates and he clutches it harder; the beads gets closer and closer to its tip, and Tom feels the light whispering at him to accept sanctuary in its song, to let it wash away his anger, to cease fighting, to surrender, and his whole body becomes weightless, being gently lifted from the ground by this invisible, absurd, liminal force—

And suddenly it ends.

The light disappears, leaving them to adjust to the night again: the link has been broken. Tom aches for it, deep in his bones. He can already tell how the echoes of that melody will haunt him for many nights to come.

He and Potter stare at each other, feet back on the ground, eyes wide, breathless and at a loss for words.

“What was that?” Tom breathes. “What did you do?”

Potter shakes his head, bewildered. “I have no clue. I just—stopped it.”

“You stopped it?”

“I think so.” Potter crawls towards a point to his side, scanning the grass back and forth until he recovers his wand from where he must have lost it when he interrupted the contact.

“Why?” Tom asks, unable to keep the word inside his still pounding chest. Why would you commit such a blasphemous act?

“Because—whatever it was, I’m not sure either of us was prepared for it.” He’s holding Tom’s gaze, straight on, in a way that reaches deep under his skin.

Unnerved, Tom skims the surface of Potter’s mind and finds a confusing jumble of... something. Too many somethings, all swirling in dizzying patterns. Wonder, doubt, curiosity, wariness, joy—all underlined by the same pure bliss that has enveloped Tom under the dome.

This magic is messing with my senses. “Don’t speak to me ever again. We’re done,” Tom says, with as much vicious strength as he can muster, rising on wobbly legs.

Potter sits in the grass and says nothing, making no move to stop him.

Tom can feel the weight of his gaze all the way to the castle. Once he reaches the dungeons, the Slytherin common room and finally his own bed, he realises how not a single part of his plan has worked out as expected.

His wand, who’s been a faithful companion since he was eleven, has acted in a way that was absolutely mystifying. Still shivering with the residue of that golden magic that doesn’t let go of his limbs, Tom performs a series of spells only to have the proof of what he already expected: the wand responds as usual and nothing is out of the ordinary—not now, not anymore. But if that unreal... thing wasn’t a malfunction, or caused by a curse, then what was it? He’s never heard of anything like it.

For the first time in what feels like forever, Tom’s out of his depth.

He thought he’d ruin Potter’s reputation, only to end up tired, bruised, with his magic acting up unpredictably and his thoughts scrambled beyond recognition. He thought he would teach Potter a lesson, and yet he lost himself in birdsong and light, giving away his power like an utter fool, until Potter was the one to separate them. And isn’t it funny that the reckless Gryffindor poster boy was the one who acted appropriately, while Tom has been too weak, too compromised? Weak, his mind provides.

How could it all have gone so wrong? How could Tom have lost the guidance of his own compass so completely?

For the briefest of moments, he wishes for Ezra’s presence; the snake has no interest in what he calls ‘complicated human affairs’, and his snark would help to keep Tom grounded. And isn’t this another sign of Tom’s weakness, to need another—an animal—to recover his balance?

He rubs his eyes, feeling both keyed-up and drained to the bone. A restless night awaits him.

However, he refuses to surrender to the hold of these thoughts. It’s completely useless to wallow in defeat and waste any more time contemplating this utter failure. Whatever happens next, whatever stunt Potter pulls that could interfere with Tom’s position in Slytherin, he’ll deal with it. Tom is cunning and capable enough to adapt to what fate has in store for him, as he’s always done.

He digs into his potion stash for a vial of Dreamless Sleep.

Potter can rot.

##

Harry crosses for the millionth time the opening sentence of his Potions essay. His parchment has turned into a blot of ink and he sighs, his wand to vanish the black stain. Then, he stares at the blank scroll, mind empty of coherent thoughts, unable to string together the meaning of a single line in the open book before him.

“I need help,” he finally says to Hermione, almost begging. They’re sitting, along with Ron, in their usual corner of the library. “I know, I know, I should write my own essay, but this isn’t—Hermione?” Harry hesitates, as he sees her casting a sturdy Muffliato around their table, the usual sign that a serious conversation was about to happen. Harry shoots a questioning look at Ron, but for once his friend appears to be on the same page as Hermione, leaving Harry out of the loop.

“Harry,” Hermione begins, with a concerned tone and furrowed eyebrows, “what’s going on? You’ve been distracted and spacing out for days, like you can’t focus on anything. It’s the third time you’ve asked for my help this week—even with difficult assignments, it’s not usually that bad.” She’s studying Harry’s face like she would a particularly complex Arithmancy equation, looking for the familiar tells that will betray his secrets.

Even though he knows perfectly well that she’s right, and that he did in fact intend to have one of those conversations, Harry protests on principle: “It’s Potions, you know how much I struggle with it! These essays are an absolute nightmare!”

“Yeah, mate, but maybe it would help if you read from the Potions book, instead of the Defense one,” Ron suggests, tapping his index finger on Harry’s book.

Harry stares at him, mild horror creeping up on his face, before letting his eyes fall on the book. He closes it and, sure enough, the battered cover doesn’t lie. “Fuck,” he says, defeated. He pushes up his glasses to rub at his face. “No wonder it didn’t make sense.”

Unlike Hermione, Ron doesn’t seem bothered by Harry’s behaviour; he shakes his head in playful disbelief, but he seems more curious than worried, which is relieving.

“So, what is it?” Hermione says.

Here it is, the moment Harry’s been dreading since this whole ordeal with Tom has started: telling the truth to his friends.

Like many other times, he doesn’t have a proper explanation for acting the way he does; in true Marauder fashion, he’d just acted on impulse, following the trail of fun. Unlike those other times, however, an explanation will be needed at some point.

This doesn’t mean that he isn’t also feeling quite defensive about this particular issue. After all, it’s not just about him; this is Tom’s business as much as it’s Harry’s, and Hermione won’t be happy to discover that her rival is involved. Harry still isn’t prepared for the fuss she will undoubtedly kick up.

And of course, predictable as the sunrise, Ron asks: “Is this because of whatever you’ve been doing when you sneak out at night?”

“Why are you being so secretive, Harry?” Hermione questions, leaning forwards and lowering her voice even though the Muffling Charm protects them from eavesdroppers. “Are you doing something that could get you expelled?”

“Hermione, I do things that could get me thrown in Azkaban on the regular.” Like being an unregistered Animagus, for instance.

And isn’t that another guilt-flavoured train of thought? The list of people that will need an explanation does include Tom himself. He’s warming up to Ezra in a way that he would have never allowed if he were aware of who hid behind the snake’s form. Yeah, Harry can’t say he’s looking forward to confessing that particular secret to Tom. After all, how can Harry admit to him that’s listened to his unfiltered rants and musings without Tom murdering him in cold blood? The Slytherin is already mistrustful enough, and lying by omission is one of the most dangerous things Harry could do, especially considering that Tom is a Legilimens.

Hermione waves an impatient hand to dismiss Harry’s point, snapping his attention back to the conversation. “You know what I mean, and you’re deflecting.”

Harry begins to open his mouth, but before he’s figured out what he’s going to say Hermione interrupts him again, voice gone soft: “Did you break up with your partner?”

“My what?” Again, Harry looks at Ron and finds none of the confusion he expects on his face.

“You have been disappearing a lot,” Ron offers with an half-shrug. “It was the most obvious conclusion.”

Harry gapes, stunned by the turn the conversation has taken. “Did you two really think that I have a secret lover? Why in the name of Merlin would I hide that?” If only they knew who my supposed ‘lover’ is. And isn’t that a thought, Tom being anyone’s lover, and Harry’s lover to boot? It’s too absurd, too unthinkable to even consider.

Yes, Harry can admit that Tom is handsome, and that he certainly doesn’t lack admirers; even with his poor eyesight, he’s not that ignorant of the Slytherin’s charms. However, Tom’s usual regal demeanour creates a distance between him and the rest of the world. Like a marble statue, Tom Riddle is meant to be admired while staying unreachable, and Harry can’t imagine him letting his shields down for anyone.

Except he did with me. Harry has been a witness to Tom’s temper, his cruelty, his smile. As obstinate as Tom has been with his will to drag Harry into the mud and his constant misinterpretation of Harry’s motives, he’s also let Harry see unflattering, vulnerable sides of him that many others would kill for.

How did that happen? What does this say about us?

“You’re spacing out again,” Hermione sighs. “But if it’s not a secret lover, then what is this all about?”

“I’ve been seeing someone. Not in that way,” he adds, before they can say anything. “But we kind of, uh, had a disagreement, and our magic reacted strangely and I was wondering if you knew something about it that I don’t.”

At the mention of an intellectual debate Hermione perks up, her posture instantly straightening. Harry tells them an abridged version of what happened in the clearing, glossing over the more incriminating details that could reveal Tom’s identity or the reason behind their fight.

“I’m pretty sure I’ve read about something like this before,” Hermione says, tapping her index finger to her lips. She bends to the side to rummage inside her magically expanded bag where she keeps a ridiculous amount of books—though Harry has to admit that, on occasions like this, having a portable library does come in handy. “I believe it was on a wandlore book I got last year. It’s hard to find any useful information on the subject because wandmaking is passed on through apprenticeship and very few masters have bothered writing down their knowledge, but I lucked on this tome that was gathering dust on a corner at Flourish and Blott’s, I’m fairly sure they didn’t even remember having it—ah, here it is!” she exclaims, showing them an ancient leatherbound volume whose title has faded completely. After a few minutes of leafing through the yellowed pages, she says: “I was right! Priori Incantatem, an extremely rare phenomenon that manifests when two practitioners bearing twin wands—that is, wands with the twin cores—attempt a duel.”

“So my... acquaintance’s wand has a phoenix feather core like mine?”

Hermione studies the book again. “Not just any phoenix feather, apparently. It has to be a feather from the same phoenix as yours, which I guess is why most wands don’t have a twin at all, or never meet their twin.” She lifts her gaze from the page to meet Harry’s eyes with her bright ones. “Harry, who is this person? This could be an amazing opportunity to study something that—”

“I can’t tell you, and they made it very clear that they don’t want me to speak to them ever again,” Harry says. Classes with the Slytherins have been... something. While outwardly nothing had changed between them, as they’d never interacted in the first place, Harry could feel the spiky coldness radiating from Tom as if it were alive and ready for him to try and cross it.

“But mate,” Ron interjects, gesturing vaguely at Harry, “wouldn’t they like to know about this? If my wand started shooting weird golden light during a duel, I’d be freaking out and thinking that my magic isn’t working or something like that.”

“I think they’re perfectly capable of researching this on their own.” Maybe that’s the reason behind their odd connection. Their wands... attract them to each other, or something.

Would Tom even want to know? The truth is... Ron is right. Someone like Tom, who prides himself on knowing everything and always being in control, must have been utterly shaken by his magic going haywire all of a sudden.

Harry’s choice is made.

##

A week after the last encounter with Potter, Ezra reappears in the dungeons just as Tom’s Prefect rounds come to an end.

Tom wonders at the snake’s ability to be so precise about his routine. Ready to cage his wayward almost-but-not-quite familiar again, this time with no intention of letting go, Tom lifts his wand in lieu of a greeting.

“Put that away, human,” Ezra hisses, and his tone is enough to still Tom’s tongue. He sounds stiff, his muscles tight and struggling against his obvious distress.

Eyes narrowing, Tom asks: “What happened to you?” If someone had dared to hurt his snake...

“Too many questions.”

“That was one question.”

“Pointless details. Follow me,” Ezra commands, before slithering down the dimly lit corridor, wasting no time to check if Tom is going after him.

Tom curses under his breath. Disrespectful, disobedient creature. He casts a silent Disillusionment Charm over himself and trails behind the sinuous shadow; the snake avoids the treacherous staircases, leading Tom behind faded tapestries and secret passages that he’s never encountered before. Spelling away the cobwebs to prevent them from sticking to his skin and hair, Tom finds himself thinking that not even Potter would have discovered these places—then banishes the reminder of Potter’s existence from his head entirely. The bastard doesn’t deserve a single crumb of his attention.

At this point he’s also wondering if Ezra is trying to get him in trouble on purpose. While the snake has never been particularly talkative and often acts oddly even by reptile standards, this mysterious demeanour is unusual and bordering on suspicious.

Ezra halts in front of a familiar, half-open bathroom door, flicking his tongue at the air; then, apparently satisfied, he slides inside.

More and more confused by this bizarre pseudo-adventure, Tom follows.

Once they’re under the greenish, dim light of the Chamber of Secrets, surrounded by snake-decorated pillars that hold up the vast ceiling, Ezra melts into the shadows and disappears from sight. The last shreds of Tom’s patience evaporate. “Ezra, what is going on?” he barely refrains from shouting.

He hears rustling from behind him, and when he turns in the direction of the sound his eyes fall on the pavement. There’s a book in front of him that hadn’t been there before. The cover is clearly old, black and unassuming, but it means very little for Tom. Wary, he extracts his wand. The Chamber is not a place in which one can trust random books appearing out of thin air.

It’s enough to distract him.

“Incarcerous,” a voice says—a treacherous, insufferable voice—and Tom is bound and constricted by ropes of warm magic that bring him to his knees. As if the humiliation wasn’t enough, he watches, powerless, as Potter waltzes in his field of vision and oh-so-casually disarms him.

“You utter bastard,” Tom snarls, like a flesh-eating curse, “release me.” The spell holds strong against his attempts to free himself wandlessly.

With a grin that shows too many teeth, Potter replies airily, “I don’t think I will. We have a lot of things to discuss, you see, and I don’t fancy being hexed.” His gaze turns sharp and he crouches in front of Tom, mockingly. “Besides, you deserve a little taste of your own medicine. Going around caging random snakes? Very rude, Tom.”

“What have you done to my snake?” No ropes will protect Potter from Tom’s ire. His magic is beginning to flare up, warming his skin, ready to set ablaze everything on its path.

Potter feels it, but all he does is sit cross-legged before Tom, unbothered. “Your snake?” he laughs.

“I caught him. He’s mine.”

“Putting me in a glass case and having a few one-sided conversations about how much you hate me is hardly enough to call me yours.”

Tom’s thoughts screech to a halt. The implication behind Potter’s words dawns on him, like curtains closing at the end of a play. It can’t be true, can it? Tom couldn’t have been so foolish—but wasn’t he the one who’s compared Ezra to Potter more than once? Oh, the irony. The cruelty of his misplaced belief that he could be himself with anyone, even an animal.

And then, Potter’s face opens, and his expression morphs into a genuine smile. Something travels down Tom’s spine at the sight. “You’re surprisingly warm, though. And you smell good under that posh cologne,” he says.

“You knew,” Tom says. “You knew all along that I wanted to sabotage you. That I despise you.”

“Yes.”

“You had no right.”

“You put me in a difficult position, Tom. On one hand, I was very aware of the fact that I was taking advantage of you; on the other hand, however... what was I supposed to do? Let you harm me out of the goodness of my heart? I’m not that self-sacrificing.”

[lilyrachelcassidy]

Summer Nights (2)

A/N: Is that... is that...? The unbridled enthusiasm I’m hearing? Or are you trying to reach me with torches and pitchforks for being so untrustworthy? Assuming the first option.

Anyway -- Yes, as I promised, this is the second part of the Summer Nights which you would hopefully enjoy. Waiting for your feedback. It’s the INDEX if you need a refresher.

ALSO, I give a lot of credit to @drawlfoy and @bored-and-botheredwho helped me with editing this chapter and steamed off my emotional breakdown related to my writing (lmao). I love you so much gals and a big THANK U once more!!!

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: coarse language; alcohol; Narcissa turning into a shitty-mother (lol)

Tags: @war-sword @paradigmax @winnsmills @idkatee@bforbroadway @okaydraco

The next thing Draco knew, he was being woken up with a massive hangover in the snuggly, way-too-comfortable bed by the high-pitched squeal of his mother.

"You, darling, made a lot of trouble for yourself yesterday," Narcissa admonished her son, a glacial cool look on her face. Entering Draco's hotel apartment, she walked over to the window and opened the drapes with one swift movement, splashing an annoyed Draco with light. He groaned, not yet daring to complain due to his mother's livid mood, to say the least.

"You have no idea of what happened yesterday, do you?"

"Yyy-" was the only sound he could make. God, where to the fuck was he? He hadn't been this plastered in forever.

"Of course you don't." Narcissa shook her head and laughed nervously, although she made it plainly obvious there was nothing humorous about the situation. "You blacked out so hard in that sleazy bar there is no way you can recall anything from yesterday. Look at you -- you are squinting at me like I'm the sun!"

Draco nervously ran his finders through his disheveled hair. He was definitely not in the right mind to provoke the conflict. "I left you the note at the reception," he informed her, trying to slickly get out of the unenviable conversation. "Told the receptionist to hand it over."

Contrary to his mother's accusatory ascertainment, he actually had some glimpses of the previous night (or should he say an all-night rave?). There were for sure drinks -- a lot of drinks; a variety of kinds he didn't recognize from the magical world but still guzzled delightfully. The second recollection was dancing --which wasn't his intention, but with some luck of his -- got invited by some hot-looking chicks from across the table. And yes, he definitely remembers the swaying and the rhythmical moving of the hips along with some cheesy muggle vibes mixed with the smell of booze and weed. Maybe he even hooked up with one of the girls? The last thing he recollects before passing out, almost like through a haze, was seeing Narcissa's furious face screaming something incoherent at him. Overall, that's his all night wrapped in one.

"Do you think the mere note 'I will be fine' was going to calm down my shattered nerves? Draco Lucius Malfoy, I swear to our dear ancestors, I did not raise you to act so irresponsibly." She waved the finger at him warningly. “We come from rich history. You are the descendant from a line of successful forefathers who put their effort into building up our reputation. Do you think Lucius would approve of such unrestrained behavior? I’ve been already hearing of letting you be too careless. Is tha-"

"Mother, could we skip the lecture?" Draco snapped angrily, try as he might to suppress it. "I've heard it too many times. All I’m trying to have is a peaceful life. Without the prying eyes of the media and the meddling of my family..."

"And all I’m trying to have is an integrated, happy family to offer you support and love.” Draco opened his mouth to cut her in, but she shushed him with a wave, clearly suggesting 'Don’t even get me started’ meaning. “I’ve been- been trying  to get a job, going through the infelicitous job interviews and looking for a solution to help our household through the post-war crisis. Have you shown any interest in that? Any?"

"But mo-"

"The last thing I want to have on my mind is dealing with your ignorant, boyish transitional stages, and let me tell you -- you do not make it any easier for me," she said without taking a breath. She exhaled slowly and continued, this time forcing a softer tone. "I ask you one thing for this summer. Let it be an enjoyable time without unnecessary conflicts. We have come to the beautiful country as France. Let's make a good thing out of it."

Draco, who was already wide awake by the buzz of adrenaline, looked at her with a serious expression. Scanning her face made him suddenly realize how hard must it have been for her to bear everything, and seeing the bags of tiredness under her beautiful, hazel eyes stopped him from retorting. "Mother, no matter what happens, I'll always support you. Remember that."

Narcissa smiled. “Oh. I know, honey, I know.” This time she lowered her voice by two octaves, slowly sitting at the edge of the bed. “It’s just… people have been gossiping behind our backs lately, partly throwing the blame at us. All I’m trying to do is protect us from those tormentors. But your binge drinking is not making the deadlock any better, and it drives me mad.” She chortled a little bit and patted Draco’s palm. “So, until the rumors die down, all we can do is raise our chins high.” Narcissa ended, her voice encouraging yet plaintive.

The last thing Draco liked is seeing his mother on the verge of emotional exhaustion, like in this moment. He felt an instant surge of sympathy, so he quickly found himself locking Narcissa in the supportive embrace. She responded to the gesture by wrapping her arms around her son’s neck and stroking his cheek delicately with the back of her hand, just like in the old times. Both of them yearningly wished to come back to those years of frivolity.

"I promise I'll try to be better," Draco said with certainty. Seeing Narcissa’s eyes light up in gratefulness and the smiley dimples form on her features, he assured himself it was the right thing to say at that mother-son moment.

“How could I be so lucky to have such a wise boy,” she muttered proudly, kissing Draco at the top of his head. “But perhaps you should not restrain yourself too much during the holiday. I give you the partial alibi per se. Just keep it under control.”

Smiling, Narcissa got up, straightening up her impeccable posture as in the habit of the high-status woman. For the first time in that day, Draco noticed how elegantly she was dressed up: the black, partly lacy dress stopping at the level of her knees; the shiny-white pearl jewelry perfectly matching her entire outfit; dark yet not defiant high-heels; andhair fixed up in the tight bun. In Draco’s opinion, she looked too prim...even for herself.

"Mother, are you heading somewhere?" he asked curiously.

“Well…” she started, blushing. “I’m going to see my old friend in the coffee shop. I haven’t been there for ages, so it’s one of the chances to meet up with them. Hopefully, you are going to take care of yourself for a few days.” 

"Days?" he asked, shocked.

“You didn’t expect me to travel from town to town, did you?” she laughed lightly. “Bordeaux is quite a route to overcome. So I might be settling there for a few nights. Do you mind it, darling?”

Was he positive about the information? Did he mind? Partly yes. He didn’t imagine the prospect of wandering around the alleys of France on his own, especially on the first day of being there. But from the other side, seeing the joy painted on his mother’s face as she told him about the planned get-together made him feel less skeptical. Plus, getting rid of the extreme supervision for a few days wouldn’t be such a disaster as well.

As he calculated now, the ratio about the idea was 90% pro and 10% against.

"Of course not," he said simply, smiling at his mother.

"I knew you would understand." The crease of uncertainty on her forehead disappeared, and she let out a sigh of relief. "Meanwhile... I have already booked you the brunch downstairs but seeing as you are not in the wholesome state, I might order a delive-"

"Don't..." Draco opposed, rising from the bed and throwing the nearest shirt he could find over his head. "I'll come down. Some fresh air may be a cure for a hangover. Oh, and speaking of hangovers -- do you happen to have an anti-hangover potion?"

Narcissa let out a quiet chuckle and clapped her hands, seemingly satisfied with herself. Her tranquil gaze landed on the cupboard. "As a matter of self-preservation, yes, I do. Try searching inside the bedside cabinet."

He thanked her and then they talked with each other a little bit longer until Narcissa took the pocket watch out of her handy purse, noted the time ("Merlin's Beard, I am so tardy! I'm going to be alone on the platform if I stay here a minute longer!), and –a little startled with her inadvertency – hurriedly declared she should get going ("I really should get going Draco!”). Pecking her son twice on the cheeks as a farewell, she rushed towards the door and, for the last time, turned around to blow a brief motherly goodbye kiss. She left in such a hurry that the only sign indicating her presence in the room a few seconds ago was her familiar perfume lingering about in the air.

Draco gathered his clothes, and after half an hour of very difficult preparations while dealing with the consequences of yesterday's actions -- because the potion finally hits after two to three hours -- he found himself in front of the hotel's restaurant. As he walked in, he had to admit the room enchanted him with its lovely atmosphere, which brought back the memories of his first Hogwart's magical feast as an eleven-year-old boy.

With the large windows allowing plenty of light in, the entire space was in the classical style. The whole floor was clad with marble tiles in the white-like color; the walls were purely white and, apparently, someone must have put a lot of effort not to let a single dust spot appear in there; the ceiling was created in the concept of the sky resemblance making an impression of the real clouds hovering over heads. Three enormous chandeliers made a very good fit with carved wooden tables and similarly-looking chairs.

"Sir, would you like to make an order?" The decently looking waitress walked over to his table, with a white apron around her waist and green, deep eyes staring at him. "I'm Laura, by the way. I'll be serving you today."

He nodded, not really paying much attention to her primitive attempts of having a chit-chat. Cursorily glancing at the menu, he decided on having a french bagel with melted cheese and a coffee which was a specialty of the house as was written in the recommendations. The waitress scribbled something sloppily in her notes, smiled briefly, and then strode away.

The restaurant was almost fully emptied, and the only things heard in the background were a heated discussion of the couple beside the table and a composition of french, old songs prepared specifically for the guests.

Draco let out a small sigh of boredom, thinking yet again about the scenery of today. The only ideas that crossed his mind were either lounging in his stuffy hotel room or finding another hang-out spot to drown his sorrows.

After the War, he had found out it was pretty easier not to give in to any of the memories, blurring them out with the support of Scotch as a coping mechanism. Pansy and Daphne, his childhood friends, had tried to talk him out of it, kindly offering some tenderness and a chance for a conversation. But he had eventually stopped caring about any of that bullshit anymore.

That's why perhaps he'd just--

"Hi!" said a cheerful voice behind him, making him jump slightly at his seat with surprise. At first, he thought it was a mistake; that he must have been deemed as someone else considering he didn't know anyone around, so was in the opposite way. Turning around, however, made him realize it wasn't entirely the truth. "Do you remember me?"

"Hello." Of course, he remembered her. It was the receptionist from the previous day, whose name he didn't bother to memorize. Although he planned on avoiding potential candidates for a talk today, he said truthfully, "Yes, I do. You work here, right?"

"Yeah," she confirmed, smiling. "Can I join?"

For a moment, his sluggish brain did not process what she was asking about, and that made him frown. The girl probably comprehended what it was about because she explained, reading his confused expression. "...the table".

"Oh," he said, feeling more than embarrassed for his dumb reaction. "Yeah, help yourself."

"Thanks," she mumbled, pulling out the chair to make some room for herself. "Tough night, huh?"

The inquiry made him suddenly realize she must have witnessed the whole scene yesterday -- him asking her for a favor, Narcissa drilling her out for any clues about his disappearance, his arrogant attitude, and scurrility as he spoke to her. For sure, if she were smart enough, she would deduce what the situation was about.

He couldn't help it, but a wave of shame pierced through his body, and his stomach rolled slightly.

"A little," he answered minimizing a dimension of the spree, almost like a lie, and then he shook his head. "Listen, sorry about yesterday. I might have been...rude."

A small smile of courtesy formed on her lips. "I presumed you were a little off. Happens..." she said tentatively, gripping both of her hands together. "Oh, and about yesterday -- you lost this at the lobby." She took his wand out, and Draco's stomach made a second roll, the heartbeat hastening like a speed of light. He quickly tried to bring his face to the natural expression, but the girl had noticed that, and curiosity filled her eyes. "I thought I should give that back. In case it was valuable or something."

Fucking great... How was he supposed to elucidate that?

His throat felt so dry he couldn't let out a word of excuse. The moment was so mortifying to him he just reached for the familiar wand and nodded politely in gratefulness.

"Mhm..." Draco hummed, barely audible and momentarily deflated. "It's just... Something I've been training with..."

What the fuck is that supposed to mean, dolt?!

"Oh," the girl unconsciously flipped her hair off the shoulders, probably trying to make sense of the information. Furrowing her brows, she put her hand under the chin. "Are you a magician?"

"Kind of..." he agreed, not happy about the reputation he had just created for himself, but at the same time satisfied he didn't have to make up more explanations.

Luckily for Draco, the uncomfortable pause was rescued by the arrival of the food -- thank Merlin -- and even though he hadn't been hungry at all, now he felt an unexpected appetite to eat up the awkwardness. The girl probably caught a hint it was about time to end an encounter because she grunted.

"Listen," the girl started, clearing her throat yet again. "I better get going. But..."

The next thing Draco knew was that she was reaching to her pocket again, this time taking out something similar to a quill, only without ink. He assumed it must some kind of muggle invention, only a mechanical-like version. The girl uncorked it and suggestively drew out her hand, clearly signifying he should bring his hand closer as well. He obediently did.

"France is a big city," she said, glancing at him and sounding serious. "If you ever needed someone to show you around, let me know."

Without any preamble, her soft, delicate fingers grasped his forearm (he made sure to give her the right one), and with a few scrawls on his skin, she looked at him merrily, blushing slightly, and then left a table.

He stared after her for a while, looking at her curls bouncing behind her back as she walked away at a slow, monotonic pace. After a few seconds, she disappeared out of his sight, letting him finally peek at the note she had left:

'Call me, Y/N,' and a nine-digit number attached.

XOXOXO

A/N: I know this part might have contained too little Draco x Reader momento, but I promise it’ll get better as a plot develops. Also -- is it only my impression, or is Narcissa as changeable as the weather in Germany lol.

[tricksters-captain]

Weasley Twins/Cedric Diggory Imagines - Accidental Meeting - Part 2

AN: I’m so glad you all are actually liking these first couple parts!!

Overall Summary: (Y/n), is a young witch who always kept her head down due to her complicated past; one day she bumps quite literally into one of the most popular boys in Hogwarts, Cedric Diggory, and that’s when (Y/n) plan of keeping her head down seems to go up into the air. Things only seem to worsen when two redheaded twins start to take notice too...

This Chapter: Wood doesn’t quite trust (Y/n) when she says that the attention Diggory gave her was nothing and sends the twins to keep an eye on her. 

(PART 1 HERE)

Pairing(s): Cedric Diggory x Reader, (Eventual) George Weasley x Reader, (Platonic) Fred Weasley x Reader, (Platonic) Oliver Wood x Reader

Word Count: 4,026

Warnings: Angst 

You walked into your first class of the day which was Potions. You weren't thrilled that Snape was your first lesson of the year but you were lucky you were quiet and gifted in Potions so Snape rarely picked on you during class. 

You found your seat toward the back of the class and that’s when you heard the noisy chatter of the Weasley twins situating itself behind you. 

“Morning (Y/n).” The twins said simultaneously. 

You turned to face them and the sheepish smiles they had on their faces. 

“Fred. George.” You greeted them back. 

“What ya gonna do, Seyler? This is Wood’s last year.” Fred winked at you, 

“You’ll have to find some other reason to come watch us play Quidditch.” George added onto Fred’s sentence. 

“Oh, I forgot I went to Quidditch matches for you two?” You leered back, rolling your eyes playfully. 

“Come on, (y/n), we know you secretly admire us. Why else would you spend all your time with Wood unless it was to secretly spend time with us!” Fred chimed. 

“It definitely has nothing to do with the fact Oliver forces me to come to matches.” Sarcasm dripped from your words which only made the twins laugh. 

“Silence!” Snape entered, slamming the door behind him. 

“He’s a ray of sunshine this morning.” George muttered, 

“Must've had a great summer.” Fred whispered back. 

You smiled and shook your head at their comments. If these two sat behind you the whole year, you weren’t going to get any work done. 

It was only a few lessons into the day and you were feeling pretty drained. 

“How’s the first proper day back?” Oliver met you in the corridor as you made your way to the back entrance for Care of Magical Creatures. 

“Piece of cake. How’s yours?” You sighed, holding your books tight to your chest. 

“All I’m gonna say is I may be able to win the cup this year unscathed but passing these exams may end it all.” Oliver slapped your hand, initiating your handshake, and ended it with a fist bump as he parted to go his own way. 

You made your way down to Hagrid’s hut where you could see the previous class leaving. 

“(Y/n)!” You soon found out Cedric was in that class as he called your name, rushing up the steep path to meet you. 

“Cedric.” You felt yourself tighten your grip on your books as surrounding students started to whisper as they passed. 

“Are you on your way to Care of Magical Creatures?” He asked you, 

“Yeah I am.” Was all you could reply. 

“It’s really great. Hey, what are you doing later?” Cedric’s energy was incorrigible, clearly Hagrid had made it an exciting lesson. 

“Um, I’m not sure. Probably studying.” You admitted honestly. 

“Ced! Come on! We’ll be late!” Boys from Cedric's class who had made it back to the castle were calling his name. 

“I’ll find you after supper then.” Cedric said as he made his way past you, rushing up to his friends. 

You didn’t know how to act or what to think. 

Why was he suddenly so interested in you?

“Were you just talking to Cedric Diggory?” Angelina approached you as you reached the hut. 

“I guess I was.” You frowned, looking back up at the castle where he had gone inside. 

“Alright! Gather round!” Hagrid’s voice cut off whatever Angelina was about to say next and you were almost thankful for it. 

The rest of the day seemed to go by quickly and soon you were sat in the Gryffindor common room with a book on your lap. 

However, the common room was busy, and the noise wasn’t letting you concentrate. 

“I’m going to the greenhouses.” You tucked your book under your arm as you got up to leave. Wood only hummed a goodbye as he gawked in confusion at whatever he was studying. 

You made your way to the greenhouses, speaking to Professor Sprout before you went into your section of the greenhouses that held the project you focused on last year. 

When Oliver was training with the quidditch team, you were often left alone and with the spare time you had last year, you focused on Herbology. 

Like Potions, it was another subject you had a good knack for and your talent of getting on Professors good sides meant that you could have your own section to raise plants you wished to study. 

“Angelina said I’d find you in here.” Cedric’s voice made you jump and you sent your watering can to the floor. 

“Merlin’s beard!” You gasped at the loud sound of the metal can. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you.” Cedric stepped forward, picking up the can for you. 

“I just didn’t expect company.” You took the can from him and then refilled it. 

“So, what are you doing in here?” Cedric asked, looking around at the plants that surrounded you both. 

“This is my, um, private section of the greenhouses. I haven’t been here since we left for summer, Professor Sprout has been looking after my plants.” You explained, watering a small sage bush you had planted. 

“You have your own section of the greenhouses?” Cedric smirked, cocking his eyebrows at you.

“I told you. I don’t have many friends.” You placed the can down and faced the boy who was now fiddling with some ear muffs. 

“Here.” You took the earmuffs from him and placed them on his head before picking up your own. 

“I was curious about raising plants last year and one plant I managed to actually grow was Siren Silines.” You explained as you went to open a door. “Dangerous flowers really. Their song is beautiful but draws animals and young children in to their death. Once picked without gloves, you’re a goner.” You opened the door and lead him inside. 

Even with the earmuffs you could faintly hear the flowers singing. 

You reached up towards the boy and removed his earmuffs for him. 

“You shouldn’t listen for too long, you’ll get light headed but this is their song.” You let he boy listen as you knew curiosity would over take him at some point. 

“Beautiful, isn't it?” You sighed happily as you stared down at the poisonous flower. 

“Very.” Cedric was watching your face as your lips curled into a soft smile which only brought on a goofy smile of his own. 

You faced him and lifted his muffs back onto his ears in fear he may faint soon. 

You guided Cedric from that part of the greenhouse so you could remove your muffs and gloves. Cedric copied you as you locked the door behind yourselves. 

“So, I didn’t ask you...” You started as the question came to mind. 

“What?” Cedric’s eyebrow twitched at you. 

“What are you doing here?” You asked. 

“I told you I'd find you after supper.” Cedric referred to earlier. 

“But why?” The question slipped past your lips before you could stop it. 

“Why not?” Cedric shrugged, his smile as contagious as ever. “Do you not like me?” 

“I never said that––” 

“––Then we can be friends.” Cedric declared before you could say anything else. 

A couple of weeks past and you didn’t see much of Diggory besides the occasional glances during study periods where the years mixed. 

Cedric had hoped to see you in Hogsmeade on the weekends but never could seem to find you anywhere outside of school hours. He thought you might be avoiding him. 

You had in fact been avoiding spending time with him after you caught the Weasley twins peaking their red heads around the greenhouses once Cedric had returned inside the castle. 

The Weasley Twins had in fact been spending more of their attention on you in lessons now too. You were irritated they were spying at first but then you realised they wouldn’t have been spying on their own accord. 

Oliver. 

He denied it at first but a few of days of the silent treatment had him confessing the truth. 

You were in the common room studying with a cup of tea when the twins decided to bother you again.

You stirred the spoon with magic as you twirled your finger, you were deep into a paragraph on dragons when Fred and George jumped down either side of you. 

“Hello Seyler.” Fred was the first to speak. 

“Have you lost something?” George asked, 

“No? Why?” You were confused by the boys cheeky smiles and thought they must be playing some kind of game with you. 

“Because there’s something outside the common room waiting for you.” Fred tried not to laugh. 

“Asking anyone going in or out about you.” George nudged your shoulder which forced you to close your book to see what they were going on about. 

The painting opened as you left the common room and stood on the stairs was Cedric.

“Cedric?” You were surprised. He stood on the stairs in a light brown patterned jumper and dark brown trousers, his hair fluffy yet styled and his lips spread into a warm smile when his eyes met yours. 

“Have you been avoiding me by any chance?” He asked without any hesitation but with humour. 

“What makes you think that?” You asked, folding your arms over your chest as you moved aside so you weren't blocking the common room entrance. 

“The fact I haven’t seen you in almost three weeks.” Cedric raised his eyebrows  as he made his point.

“I’m a busy girl?” You tried to make an excuse. 

“How can a girl who claims she has no friends be so busy?” Cedric goaded with a cute smirk on his lips. 

“I like to study. I do have my O.W.L’s. this year you know” You defended yourself. 

“But they’re not until the end of the year. Do you have to study all week every week?” He meant the weekends and you knew it. You hadn’t really left the castle since you arrived back at Hogwarts but every time you accidentally walked into a large group you could hear the mutters about Azkaban and your parents and these were children so you couldn’t bare to see the adults in Hogsmeade join in too. 

“Ced...” You muttered, looking down at your fingers. This boy barely knew you. He didn’t understand. He couldn’t. 

“Look, I’m sorry.” Cedric apologised for his attitude about it, “Would you like to come to Hogsmeade with me this weekend? Nothing crazy, just a few butterbeers and maybe a trip to Zonkos?” 

You hesitated to answer. 

“Fine.” You gave in as his gorgeous eyes bared into you. 

“Great.” Cedric smiled, taking a step down the stairs. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning then.” 

You returned to the common room swiftly after Cedric jumped down the stairs, heading back to his own common room. You avoided the twins by heading up to your bedroom. 

You flopped back onto your bed and let out a deep breath. 

What on earth did he want with you? 

You had never received this much attention from anyone before. You didn’t expect Cedric to be almost chasing you in order to get a chance to speak with you. No one ever wanted to talk to you unless it was about school work. No one except for Wood of course...

You tossed and turned all night, concerned about what would you talk about, spending a whole day with someone new. Wood was the only one who has ever known everything about you but Wood was basically your big brother. Cedric, on the other hand, was almost a stranger. 

When you finally got up in the morning, you spent way longer than usual picking something to wear, the weather was getting colder as autumn took over fully and so you made sure to wrap your Gryffindor scarf around your neck before you left. 

It was early so whilst half the house was still asleep, the other half were in the great hall already devouring a breakfast. 

Cedric was stood outside the great hall, leaning against the wall with one leg cocked up against the stone as he waited for you. 

“I was getting worried I’d have to corner some poor second year Gryffindor to go get you out of bed.” Cedric didn’t shy away from teasing you as you came into view. 

“I didn’t know what to wear. I’m not used to this. My Saturday’s are usually spent in the library or the quidditch pitch after being blackmailed by Oli to come watch them train and point out the weakest links.” You mumbled quickly as you tucked your hands into your jacket pockets. 

“I’m only joking. Come on, I wanted to go for walk before we went to Hogsmeade.” Cedric offered his elbow, his own hands in his jacket pockets too. 

You took it, the nerves bubbling in your stomach, as he began to walk towards the path that headed down to the black lake. 

“How did you sleep?” Cedric asked you. 

“Not great. I haven’t sleep that well since the news that Sirius Black was sighted a couple weeks ago.” You were honest which surprised yourself. 

“Do you think he’ll really come to Hogwarts?” Cedric looked down at you as he spoke. 

“He won’t if he knows what's good for him. But if he were anything like my parents, he will.” You kept your eyes to the ground ahead of you when you brought up your parents. 

“What do you mean?” Cedric furrowed his brows, 

“My parents were... are.. so dedicated to you know who that if they were given the chance to kill Harry, they would. They’d kill him and come straight for me.” 

Cedric was silent for a moment after hearing the truth in your voice. You truly believed that is what would happen. Cedric thought it must be so nerving to know your own blood would kill your friend then drag you away from everything you knew. 

“I’m sorry. How’d this turn so dark...” You tried to chuckle weakly to lighten the mood but Cedric knew it was fake. 

“Don’t apologise. This is the most I’ve heard you talk since I met you. It’s nice, even if the topic is not.” Cedric nudged your shoulder with his as you walked along the pebbles and stones. 

“I bet there’s loads of scary things in the black lake.” You bent down and picked up a stone to skim along the water. 

“I don’t know. We can find out if you like?” Cedric watched you skim the rock as he spoke. 

“How?” You asked, facing the boy again. 

That's when Cedric ran towards you and threw you over his shoulder, jogging towards the water and stepping into the shallow water. 

“Cedric!” You screamed, “Cedric! Put me down! Cedric! Stop!” 

The boy laughed wildly as he placed your feet back onto dry ground. 

“That wasn't funny!” You pushed the boy back several times which only made him laugh harder. 

His laughter encouraged yours and soon you were laughing with your hand on your forehead as you calmed down. 

“Can we go to Hogsmeade now?” You asked him, 

“Yes, we can go now.” Cedric straightened up from laughing and took your arm once more. 

Once you arrived at Hogsmeade, you immediately went for a butterbeer. 

“Why couldn't Hogwarts be somewhere warm? Why is it Scotland? It’s getting so cold out there already.” You complained as you sat down opposite the boy. 

“I like Christmas here. The snow just makes it better.” Cedric placed your drink in front of you with his own. 

“Snow? You mean the white cold, slushy, slippery stuff that is wet and makes my plants die?” Cedric laughed at you and you just shook your head. 

“Aren’t your plants in greenhouses?” 

“What about the plants that are outside? The only good thing to come out of cold weather is snowdrops. Such little flowers but they are so pretty.” You weren't aware of the smiles that Cedric was sending you but he enjoyed listening to you speak without the nerves you had before. 

“I’m guessing Herbology is your favourite subject?” Cedric pondered, 

“No, actually. Potions is. I like Herbology but it’s because I'm good at it. I’m good at Potions too but that’s because I find it interesting minus Snape.” 

“I don’t think I’ve heard anyone admit Potions is their favourite class before.” Cedric chuckled. 

“Look, if Snape wasn’t the Potions Professor I’m certain more people would enjoy it.” You couldn’t help but laugh along with him. 

From the corner of your eye you could see something (or someone) peaking through the window. 

The flash of red then gave it away. 

It was Fred and George, spying, again!

“Oh God...” You groaned, taking a large gulp from your Butterbeer. 

“What?” Cedric glanced towards the window then back to you. “What is it?”

“Oli... He’s sent the Weasley twins to spy on me, no doubt.” You sank down in your seat as your eyes flickered to all the windows to capture a glimpse of them again. 

“What’s going on with you and Wood anyways?” Cedric soon made that transition. 

“Nothing. He's like my brother. We’ve been best friends since I was in first year, not like the rumours haven’t spread though. Got Oli into some trouble with a couple girlfriends actually.” You explained, sparing the details for a later date.

“Really?” Cedric clearly found that amusing as he let out a soft chuckle. 

You rolled your eyes and nodded your head. 

“Come on, let’s get out of here.” Cedric jumped up from his seat and offered his hand. You took it to help you out of your chair but dropped it soon after. 

Cedric opened the door for you as you left the leaky cauldron. You sent him a shy smile as you mumbled ‘thanks’. 

You walked through Hogsmeade towards Zonko’s joke shop when you stopped outside Honeydukes. 

“Do you mind?” You asked Cedric hopefully as you eyed the sweets in the window. Cedric smiled back and got the door again. 

You rushed in and immediately picked up two bars of Honeydukes best chocolate. 

During term time, you survived off sugary treats to keep you up, especially during winter when the skies grew dark and the weather became miserable. 

You knew you’d need a good supply with your O.W.L’s coming up. 

You gathered a good stock of chocolate wands, chocolate cauldrons, chocolate skeletons and then finally came to the chocolate frogs. 

“I’m guessing chocolate is your favourite?” Cedric smiled down at you as he stepped to be by your side. 

“Is it that obvious?” You laughed lightly, 

“Stocking up because of the dementors?” Cedric asked genuinely, it was well known that you’d need something sweet to get your serotonin levels back up after an encounter with a dementor. 

“Kind of. I get low during the winter months anyway and I need the energy to actually do well on these O.W.L’s.” You admitted, taking a chocolate frog from the shelf. 

“I’m sure you’ll get outstanding in every subject. I remember how nervous I was for my O.W.L’s last year but I did alright.” Cedric moved along the shelf and took some Berties Botts every flavoured beans as he spoke. 

“Alright? Okay, Cedric ‘best student’ Diggory.” You scoffed, you knew well (like the rest of the school) that Cedric did practically perfectly on his O.W.L’s. 

“Well, with all the hours you spend studying I don’t doubt you’ll at least pass.” Cedric sent you a wink and you felt your stomach flip. 

You looked away from the boy so that you could hide your burning cheeks. 

“Just these please.” You piled your mini haul onto the cash register. 

“Here, I’ll get it.” Cedric stepped forward, opening his small bag of coins. 

“No, really, it’s okay.” You tried to stop the transaction but Cedric was quicker than you. 

“Keep the change.” Cedric took the bag as you stared at him with objection. 

“You didn’t have to do that.”  You said as you left the shop. 

“I wanted to. It’s not everyday that I actually get to spend time with (Y/n) Seyler––”

“––Will you keep your voice down!” You reached up, shushing him with your hands as you looked around at the passing wizards and witches who seemingly hadn’t heard. 

“What?” Cedric pulled back from your hands, a smile still pursed on his lips. 

“You clearly don’t know what it’s like to have a name that sends a room full of people’s eyes directly to you.” You didn’t want to sound angry but Cedric’s smile faltering slightly must've mean you failed. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t meant to––” 

“––No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have spoke to you like that. It’s just... I reckon the only other person who understands what it's like is Harry Potter.” You continued walking. 

There was a moment of silence between you as you walked side by side. 

“Maybe we should head back to the castle.” You suggested, 

“Well, well, well, what do we have here then, Georgie?” Fred’s voice caught your attention as you passed Zonkos. 

“I don’t know, Freddie. Looks like Seyler and Diggory here are on a date.” George smirked back at his twin as they swaggered up to you both. 

“We were just on a walk.” You corrected them both which sent the twins eyebrows up their foreheads. 

“Is that right, (Y/n)?” Fred looked between you and Cedric with a smile. “Is that why we saw you in the leaky cauldron together?”

“We were just having a drink.” Cedric spoke up as he could see how uncomfortable you were with this conversation. 

“A drink, eh?” George winked at the boy. 

“How about it, Cedric? You ready to lose the quidditch cup this year?” Fred chimed into a different conversation as you sent him a death glare. 

“Don’t be so confident, Weasley.” Cedric chuckled, 

“We’re heading to the shrieking shack.” Fred started, 

“Meant to be the most haunted house in Britain.” George added. 

“Care to join?” Fred wiggled his eyebrows at you both. 

“Actually I think we were about to head back to the castle.” You looked between Cedric and the twins.

“Suit yourself.” Fred. shrugged before turning on his heels. “Oh, and (Y/n), Wood said that you’d be at every match this year. I suggest you find yourself a good coat ‘cause they’ll be no skiving matches just because it’s raining.” 

You groaned at the comment and all the boys just sniggered. 

When you arrived back at the castle, you could see some 4th years whispering down one of the arched corridors as they saw you and Cedric walk through the courtyard together. 

“Thank you for today.” You took the bag of sweets that Cedric was holding from him as you thanked him. 

“Look, about earlier, I really am sorry if I upset you in any way.” Cedric’s kind nature couldn’t help but apologise again. 

“Really, Cedric, water under the bridge. I didn’t mean to get so upset.” You tightened your scarf as the wind picked up. 

“Well, what are you doing this week?” He asked, 

“I’m not sure. Studying. Homework. Professor Lupin says he has a special treat  for us sometime this week or the next which I’m quite excited about. It’s refreshing having a teacher who knows what he’s talking about after Lockhart last year.” You couldn’t help but giggle at the memory of Lockhart being outted as a fraud at the end of the year. 

“He was... something else.” Cedric laughed with you.

You hadn’t smiled this much in a long time.  

“Ced! Where’ve you been?” You heard a voice behind Cedric and knew it was his oncoming friends.

Cedric peered behind before looking back down at you with an apologetic smile. 

“I better go. Don’t disappear on me now, (Y/n).” Cedric really hoped you wouldn’t avoid him for another few weeks until he is then forced to track you down again. 

“You’ll just have to use that Hufflepuff intuition and find me.” You almost didn't believe what left your mouth. Were you flirting with Cedric Diggory?!

(Next Part Here)

[alovesongshewrote]

Almost A Thousand Years - Killahead, Part 2 | Hisirdoux Casperan

Plot:  You’ve known Hisirdoux Casperan for almost a thousand years.  You’ve hated him for almost a thousand years.  And for almost a thousand years, you’ve been cursed to feel each others pain.  But somewhere in that time, things changed.  [Hisirdoux Casperan x Mostly Gender Neutral but Probably Female Presenting Based on How Historical Men Treat Them!Reader]

Word Count:  5,258

Warnings: B A T T L E 

A/N:  HAPPY HOLIDAYS KIDS!!!!!  also, i swear to god this was written a month ago, before aaron confirmed the skulls and wizards thing

Taglist:  @furblrwurblr @rainningdoom @fluffydmonkey @blondie0458 @sitherin-mxschief @jinxedleo @lawlesshedgehog @einahpetsyarcip @dolphincommander @sorrels-scribbling @anxious-stitcher @alive-and-afraid @animedweeb333 @douxiesdamsel @saroski05 @justarandomhoman @tales-of-hisirdoux​ @blixeon​​ @yagirlcheesely​

It was about as surreal as you thought it would be.

As a child you were trained to fight; to stab, to slice, to claw, and to bleed.  You were taught that humans were the root of all evil and that the Gumm-Gumms would one day take what was theirs.  Now you were fighting with the humans, the evil, the oppressors, against what had been your home, your people.

And it was going surprisingly well.  It turns out having insider knowledge is very helpful on the battlefield.  You were able to block everything they threw at you, to dodge and weave through their attacks and land some pretty good hits of your own.  Douxie had your back, of course, blue light striking down as many opponents as it could take.  In return, you took out anything that even threatened to get too close.

It was going well.  But it didn’t last.

“WHERE IS THE WITCH SPY?”

“Oh no.”

“(Y/N), stay behind me,” Douxie’s voice was a dull hum against the roar around you, and of course, the screaming troll in front of you.

“JOIN YOUR BROTHERS AGAINST THIS PATHETIC ARMY!!”

“Oh god.”

Douxie noticed the fact that you weren’t even close to listening to him and took action, moving in front of you, striking any Gumm-Gumm soldier who even looked your way.

“RETURN HOME (Y/N) (L/N)!”

So, that was it.  That was what had kept you in the dark as a traitor for at least a hundred years.  The very sentence that made you avoid Britain with all your strength.  The thing that drove a wedge between you and the man you now loved.

Four words were all it took.

“(Y/N)??  (Y/N), love, please, answer me!”

You jerked your head, snapping back to reality.  No matter what events were relevant to your personal history, there was still a battle going on.  You had to keep fighting.  You struck down another few Gumm-Gumms just as Douxie used some of Archie’s fire to dispose of another, another few.

“Ha, I've always hated those twits!”

“Valid!” you cried as you ducked under an opponent’s strike.  You took out their knees, rising again, just in time to see Morgana descend from a sky wormhole.  Just what you needed.

“Night has already fallen.”

“Oh, really?  Couldn’t tell.”

Douxie rolled his eyes at your sarcasm, but you could see the grin on his face.  That boy loved you and all of your shenanigans.  You were shaken from your thoughts, however, when Morgana started firing spells into the crowd, yeeting her magic around with reckless abandon.  

“Morgana’s returned!  She’s enemy number one!”

“Go!” Jim yelled, “We’ll hold the bridge!”

“Hisirdoux, with me!  I-You!” oh no, he was talking to you, “I take you in as my apprentice, spare your life from the sword, and this is how you-”

“Master, they didn’t have a choice!”  Douxie grabbed your hand, pulling you behind him as if to shield you from Merlin’s wrath, “It was a matter of survival!”

“Survival!  What-”

“Please, Master, let them help.  If we leave them here, any of the nights might try to attack them!”

“And why should that matter!  They are a traitor, are they not?  Death on the battlefield is more merciful than anything they might receive after the battle is won.”

“I won’t let anything happen to them,”  Douxie’s voice was calm, but you could hear the anger behind it, “(Y/N) has proved their loyalty to me hundreds of times. They’re more than capable and I trust them with my life.”

You broke from your reverie, eyes painted with concern.  How could he trust you so easily?  Why did he, even after everything that had happened?  This shouldn’t have come as such a shock to you.  He did love you, after all, and yet, you still found yourself surprised by this revelation.  You couldn’t help the hesitant smile that crept onto your face as you squeezed his hand slightly.  He really did love you, didn’t he?

Merlin grumbled something, probably regretting that binding spell right about now, before motioning for you to follow him.

You cast a wave back to the kids, a silent wish for their luck, before you ran after Merlin, your hand still entwined with Douxie’s.  He didn’t let go until you reached a small group of ruins, at which point you, your wizard and the old man stood, backs facing each other, all of you peered out into the darkness.  Archie flew above you, dragon eyes finding nothing out of the ordinary.  Not yet, anyway.  You kept your sword out in front of you, and you could tell that Douxie was doing the same with his brace.  You had no idea what Merlin was doing, but you never did, so that wasn’t a big deal.

“I feel dark magic.”

“It means she’s close.”

You and the familiar both gasped as something ran through the trees.  A chill made its way into the woods, surrounding you and raising goosebumps on your skin.  You felt your heart begin to race as strange echoes continued to ring out through the air.  They soon morphed from a collection of noises into a laugh- Morgana’s.

“An old man, a foolish boy, and a traitor; lost as always.”

Your small group moved slightly, scanning the forest for any sign of the sorceress.  You could feel her presence, but there was nothing there.

“Do you dare run… or face my vengeance?”

Oh.  There she was.

“Um, is there a third option?”  Archie asked, sounding much too calm for the situation at hand.  You couldn’t blame him though, you would have done the same.  But you weren’t doing the same.  You were looking over your shoulder just as a collection of roots shot out at you.  Thanks to your little turn, you had an advantage, cutting the offending plant parts before they could get to you.  Douxie and Merlin, however, were not so lucky.  The latter was pulled to the ground and stabbed through the shoulder with a particularly sharp root.  He barked out an order for Hisirdoux to run, which he could not do because of the roots clinging to his shoulders.  You used your sword on what you could, and a blast of green energy from Merlin took out the rest.  A little anticlimactic if you ask me.

Despite your escape, Morgana cackled, even as Douxie fired spell after spell at her with little success.  While he made his attempt, you helped Merlin to a standing position, a task that became easier when Douxie rejoined you at the old wizard’s other side.

“Merlin, you’re injured!  Badly…  (Y/N), is there anything-”

“Hisirdoux, if I should fall this day…”

Merlin handed his former apprentice a scroll, one which was covered with notes and instructions about building a tomb, and the heart of Avalon.  Your brows furrowed as you read over Douxie’s shoulder.  That wasn’t ominous at all.

“Why are you giving us this?”

“Foreseeing the future means preparing for the worst of it,” he glared at you for a moment, and you wondered what exactly he could see.  He clearly hadn’t seen your act of treason coming, but there were other things that made you wonder.  Your thoughts were interrupted by more ominous Merlin content, “That includes your wounded friend.”

“Jim?  What about him?”

“The corruption in his heart has no cure.  When he returns to the future, it will overtake him.”

Oh.  Oh.  

Oh no.

You’d had your suspicions, but hearing it from the master wizard himself brought it to another level of reality.  There was no cure.  There was no solution.  You were going to go home, and you were going to kill Douxie.  Or you’d try to, at the very least.  Maybe, now that Douxie was a master wizard himself, he could do you both a kindness and kill you where you stood.  

…

Yeah, no.  He wouldn’t be doing that anytime soon, but a witch could dream!  You feel his hand on your back, a gesture meant to comfort you that only made you sick.  How he still cared about you, even after all of this would confuse you for years to come.  For now, though, you just accepted it.  There wasn’t time for much else with an evil sorceress on the prowl.

“No, no there must be some other way!  I made a promise to them, to Claire, to get them home alive, all of them!”

“Yet, to save time itself, you all must return home, even if it means James Lake will be no more.”

That wasn’t exactly a pleasant thought.  While a distance stemming from your past had momentarily sprung up between you and the kids, the gap between you had since closed.  You loved those little monsters like they were your siblings, and you’d do anything for them.  The thought that Jim would have to die, to make another sacrifice when he’d already given up so much, was just another thing that killed you inside.

“And there’s no other solution?” you tried to keep quiet despite the rage that boiled inside you, not at anyone in particular, but at the situation as a whole, “There’s no way to fix this that doesn’t get Jim killed?”

Merlin shook his head, but you didn’t need that confirmation.  You already knew the answer.

“Such is the burden of a wizard,” the old one spoke as your small group made its way deeper into the night, “To make the hard choices mortals cannot,” he grunted, slouching forward slightly, reminding you that you should really take a look at that stab wound at some point.  Merlin, however, paid no real mind to this, instead, continuing his little monologue, “Now it is yours to bear.”

You looked away from your wizard companions to see a giant skull, lodged between a rock and… well, another rock.  Some may call it a canyon, you called it fucking ominous and terrifying.  The skull was lit from within, orange light seeping through the space where eyes had once stared out into the world.  You wondered, for a moment, how these old bones had ended up here, and how they had stayed.  What was the last thing this being saw?  Was it the sky above, or the ground below?  What could kill something as large as this?  You didn’t ask your questions.  It didn’t seem like the right time.  

And really, it wasn’t time for anything other than nerves and anxiety.  Without a word, you followed Merlin across the rocks until he stood in front of the skull, on top of an odd sort of contraption.  You stood a few steps behind, safely off the weird cage thing.

“Morgana, reveal thyself!”

Before you could question the logistics of giving yourselves away, a portal, ringed with gold and made of shadows appeared, releasing the queen of the apocalypse onto another rock.  Yep, that sure was an evil sorceress.  Just what you needed at this time of night.

“Look what has wandered into my web,” nice starting point.  Threatening, but not over the top.  You cast your sarcastic thoughts aside for the moment, as valid as they were, preparing yourself instead, for a fight.

“These are dark powers you medal with, Morgana.  Who granted them?  Who resurrected you from death?”

“Wizards beyond your ken,” ah shit.  Just as you suspected.  ‘Wizards beyond your ken,’ was mysterious witch for ‘The Arcane Order.’

And then she was gone again.  Dope.

“So, uh… we should head into the big skull of doom?” you asked, eyebrows knit together in a mix of concern and confusion.

“Yep, let’s go.”  You and Douxie nodded at each other before helping Merlin scale the rocks and get into the skull, asking Archie to stand watch for a moment, just to secure his safety.  He agreed only once you’d promised to call him if things got rough.  

Inside of the first skull, you found a second, slightly smaller skull.  What the hell was it with magic dudes and skulls, huh?  Morgana had this as her lair, the Arcane Order’s ship was a skull, Douxie had his whole vibe and Merlin kept skulls in his office.  Shit, even you kept bones around, though you were a doctor and arguably had the best excuse.  Your thoughts ran wild as you examined the space around you, but they were interrupted by the reappearance of your least favourite murder-witch.

“Morgana!”

The two wizards prepared for battle, but you hesitated.  Something was wrong here.  Morgana was crying, no-sobbing.  You recognized this, whatever this was.  You’d seen it in yourself back in the 1300s.  Yep, something was wrong alright, and judging by this, someone was probably dead.

“It’s your fault!” She cried, “You’re the reason Arthur is gone!” 

Oh, so you were right.  That didn’t really explain how Arthur’s blood was on your hands though.

“What?”

“Gone?”

“Uh, guys?  It kinda sounds like the King is dead.”

Your companions had no time to respond as Morgana rose through the air, seeking misplaced revenge instead of proper justice.  She fired a spell at the three of you, which Douxie ran to shield you from.  Merlin joined him a second later, limping towards the younger wizard with your help.  The second he stood on his own, your magic joined theirs.

“She’s too powerful!  We have no choice but to seal her away!”

“I know.  I’ll try to buy some ti-”

Douxie was cut off when Merlin knocked you both clear across the room and out of the way of another spell, one which left the old wizard in chains.

You felt the impact that Douxie suffered and you were sure he felt yours.  Nevertheless, the two of you pulled yourselves up just as Morgana started on another speech.

“Oh, shame!  Little Douxie finally gets his staff, just in time to die with it!” 

She aimed her next attack at him, but you interfered, knocking her away with a shield made of your magic.  

“And you!  Traitorous little wretch!”  you weren’t exactly sure which treason she was talking about or who she learned it from.  You’d betrayed a lot of people over the years, she’d have to be more specific, “Why do you still fight alongside them?!”

You knocked away another attack before answering, “The shorter one is cute!”  With that, you went on the offensive, landing a kick to Morgana’s stomach and striking her again with the butt of your sword.  Your small victory didn’t last long though, as she struck back, the impact slamming you into the opposite wall and probably cracking a few of your ribs.  You’d have to apologize to Douxie for that one.

Morgana scoffed at you, looking down at your crumpled figure as you struggled to stand, “Only a fool would fight for love!” 

Her voice may have contained a little more rage than was necessary, and she may have been projecting a little bit, but she didn’t have time to say anything else.  Douxie handed a few hits with his staff, using surprise to his advantage, and holding up surprisingly well despite the pain you both were in.  Morgana turned her taunting onto Douxie, mocking him as they fought.

“You can’t even wield it!” you winced as she landed a hit, “You should stick to your usual tricks.”

You bit your lip as she struck him in the face- twice.  This really wasn’t a great day for either of you, was it?

“Use the power of your staff!  Make it your own!”

“Please, Douxie.”  Your voice was quiet, and there was almost no way he heard it.  Hell, you weren’t even sure what you were asking for, but in the next second, his staff turned into a fucking guitar so that was probably it if you had to guess.  Or maybe it was the next second when he avenged you by smacking Morgana in the face with said guitar, sending her flying across the room.  You knew that as a doctor you shouldn’t hope for someone to crack a rib, but this was an exception you were willing to make.

“What?!”

“BABE!  THAT WAS HOT!!” you yelled, too shocked to say much else.

“Bleeding balroths!  This is nuclear!” your wizard said, spinning the staff around.

You couldn’t help but laugh at that as you pulled yourself up from the ground.  Of all the things Douxie had ever said and done in his life, that had to be the Douxie-est.

“Did you just strike me with a-a lute?!”

“Uh-uh-uh-uh.  No, uh-uh.  Spellcaster guitar, darling.”

You weren’t exactly sure what the fuck he just said, but you were 110% there for it.  He played a lil’ riff on his staff, and you had a very brief mental debate on whether or not that took the throne for the Douxie-est thing he’d ever done.

“Needs tuning though.”  He continued to play the riff for a solid minute, and you weren’t sure what was funnier.  The fact that this was, in fact, something that was happening, or how Done Merlin looked with literally everything at that moment.  It was both.  Both was good.

“I meant make it your own weapon!”

Douxie finished playing just in time to shield himself from another of Morgana’s attacks, “Well, this is technically an “axe!”  

“You are a huge geek!”

“And you love it!” your wizard yelled, playing again while running from Morgana, looking for an opening while avoiding a volley of spells.  He was right.  You did love it.  That’s why you were going to help at the next opportunity, your (and technically his) poor ribs be damned.  

“Hisirdoux!  This is no time for dreadful music!”

“Dreadful?”

“Absolutely infernal.”

“I mean, I thought it was good!”  you yelled, launching your own round of spells at Morgana, making it harder for her to land a hit on Douxie.

“No worries, this is just the opening track!”

“What do you hope to do?  Blow out our eardrums?”

“Well, pardon me if this rock is too freakin’ awesome for your medieval sensibilities!”    You had no idea how he did it, but he managed to land on one of the light fixtures (of all things) while you weren’t looking.  You couldn’t really see him from where you were, but you were almost certain that he was doing the sign of horns and sticking out his tongue.

“Enough of your noise!”  Morgana cried, blasting you to the side quickly before returning to her real fight.  You were lucky that this blast was not as strong as her first.  You were able to roll out of it without causing any real damage, a benefit to both you and Douxie.  Speaking of, your wizard found himself locked in a Harry Potter-style duel, two magics facing off against one another in a single stream.  It was not looking too good for your boi though.  He seemed to notice this, and jumped from the light and returned to physical combat on the ground.  Unfortunately, that did not end well either, and you bit back a cry as Douxie was thrown through the room.  Yeah, things were looking rough.  Time to call in the cat calvary. 

You swore you were only gone for a moment, but in that time, Douxie managed to get himself pinned against a wall.

“Do not fret, Merlin.  You’ll find a new apprentice to replace him.  Are people not dispensable, after all?”

“Ok, go, go now!”  you whispered to Archie, your tone intense, which was fair considering the situation.  The familiar did as told and flew at the witch, sending her fling off balance and keeping her away from Douxie.  Arch did a quick loop near Merlin, tossing the wizard his staff before circling around to land on Douxie’s shoulder.  Merlin and Morgana began their fight as you ran to your wizard and his familiar.

“Nice work my dudes, you think you can keep it up?”

“Probably!  Arch, light me!”  you liked the sound of that. You liked the sight of it even more as blue flames encircled Morgana, trapping her, and allowing Douxie and Archie to make their final attack, keeping the sorceress in place.

“Hurry, I can’t hold her that long!”

“Don’t worry, we’ve got this,” you said, voice quiet as you threw your own spell at the witch from below.  Hopefully, that would make things a little easier.  It did.  Douxie was grateful.  

“You have lost yourself, Morgana!  Bound to dark magic.  I have no choice but to seal you away!  Sigilia infractum!”

It seemed to work for a second, but then, for like, the third (?) time in that battle you were blasted back, Douxie fell with you and hit the ground harder.  

“Man, this sucks,” you whispered as you pulled yourselves up, going to Merlin’s aid.

“Master!”

“She’s too powerful,” he groaned, “You have to finish this, together.”

“We can do that… we can do that!  Let’s go!”

You and Douxie moved in sync, matching each other’s movements exactly.  Using his staff, Douxie’s blue magic replaced Merlin’s green while yours froze the witch again, keeping her from attacking you.

“Sigilia infractum causera!”

Finally, the blast from the spell did not hurt you, instead, it did as it was supposed to, trapping Morgana.  You let your own spell ease up, instead, lending whatever strength you could to Douxie, God knows he would need it.

“I will destroy you all!  No matter what it takes, no matter where you go, I will end all that you love until you feel my agony!”

“Yeah, you aren’t the first person to threaten that!  Come up with something original, then we’ll talk.”

The witch roared and threw a spell in your direction, but it disappeared into a shadow edged with purple.

“Hey!  Hands off my teachers!”

Oh, Claire!  Claire had found you somehow, that was good.

“I swear on all your lives, I shall rise again!”

“Already seen it,” the girl cried, throwing some much-deserved sass Morgana's way, “You don’t win.  See you in 900 years!”

And with that, the spell was complete.  Claire opened another portal, dragging Morgana into it.  With that big historical event over, your adrenaline failed you and you staggered forward.  That was pretty convenient considering it let you catch Douxie, who was doing much worse than you were.  You noticed his eyes rolling back slightly, which was a cause for some alarm.

“Hey, heyheyheyheyhey, stay with us, you nerd, don’t pass out on me,” you weren’t sure you could handle the stress if he did.

“Douxie!  Are you okay?!”  Archie and Claire moved in, the former knocking Douxie back and licking his face relentlessly.

“Ugh!  That’s-that’s disgusting!”

You and Claire both laughed at this, glad that at least this part of the fight was finally over.  Douxie stole a glance at you and wondered if he had somehow died during the battle.  How else could there be an angel before him?

“Well,” he turned his gaze from your smile to Claire with only minor difficulties, “I think we just saved history.”

You sat back, all fears forgotten for now in a moment of relief and elation as you watched your boyfriend give the girl a high-five.

“And you took down a ninth-level sorceress.”

“Damn right,” you giggled, which was new, but not unwelcome.  You turned to Douxie, “Sharp work, samurai.”  Your friends rolled their eyes at your antics, though they did it out of love.

The excitement calmed for a moment, allowing Archie to speak, “Merlin would be proud.”

“Yeah, if he wasn’t out cold.”

“I mean, it’s not a great look for him, but full transparency?  I could probably take a three-hundred-year nap right now.”

Douxie laughed, but he wrapped a hand around yours and whispered, “Please don’t.”

You squeezed his hand, a silent promise that you would not answer your problems with sleep.  Not today, anyway.  To be completely honest, the problem immediately at hand could be solved rather quickly, by you, at least.

“Anyway, Merlin’s still been stabbed, so I’ll just-”

Fortunately, this was just a stab wound.  No magic, no tricks, no possession, just medicine.  That was what you knew, it was what you could deal with.  It was over too quickly.  Was that a thing you could say?  Could you wish for medical treatment to last longer?  Was that something you could do?  Not to mention that he was your boyfriend’s surrogate dad, which just made things complicated.  Either way, it was over too fast.  You returned to Camelot, mourned the dead, said your goodbyes, and that was it.  Time was up.  You had to go home.

Home.  What even was home now?  You knew the answer.  Home was Douxie.  Wherever he was, you wanted to be.  He made you feel safe, feel loved, feel every good thing that humans are supposed to feel, but-  To save the world, to save his life, you would have to leave him.  There was no other choice, either you stayed in the past and everyone died, or you went back to the future and risked his life by staying with him.  You had to go.  As soon as you got back, you’d have to run.  You didn’t know where, to-to Spain, or Japan, or Cuba, Vietnam, Egypt, France, somewhere, anywhere, just to keep him safe.  You didn’t want to do it.  You just wanted to stay by his side, forever, if possible.  But that was the thing.  It wasn’t possible.  And that broke your heart.

And if possible, these gosh darn kids were going to break you even more.

“Everybody, ready yourselves.  We don’t have much time.  I’ll dial us in for when we left.”

“But what’s gonna happen when we get there?  The danger we escaped, it’ll be waiting for us.  And Jim’s still hurt.”

You bit your lip as you and Douxie approached Jim and Claire. You really didn’t want to be the one who had to say this.  You didn’t want to be around when she heard the news.  Shit, you didn’t even want it to be news.  You just wanted your kids to be happy, and to not kill your boyfriend, and to live for once.  Maybe fate just didn’t like you.

“Claire, about that…  Jim is-”

“Ready to face the inevitable,” Jim held out a hand to stop you.

“Jim, are you sure?” Douxie asked while you maintained your silence.  You were pretty sure if you said anything you’d lose your composure. 

“Jim?”  Oh God, and now Claire was going to find out how screwed you still were.  This was gonna suck.

“Claire, the shard in-  There is no cure.  That’s what Merlin told me earlier.”

You winced at the horror on the young girl’s face.  She didn’t deserve this.  Neither of them did.

“That’s crazy!  We can find something!  I’ll learn a spell, we can stay here!”

“If we don’t all go back right now, the future won’t exist.  What kind of hero would I be if I sacrificed everyone else?  Not to be ironic, but we’re out of time.”

“No!  Douxie, (Y/N), tell him!  We can fix this!  You can fix this!”

You brought your hand up to hide your eyes from the sorceress.  She was right, you should have been able to fix this, and tears wouldn’t solve anything.  Your only solution was running away, and Jim-  oh God, Jim.  See, it was things like this that made you start drinking in the twenties.

“I’m sorry, Claire.  He’s right.  We must go back now, but when we do, we’ll find a way to reverse this,”  he stole a glance back at you, and your distraught state only drove him further.  He had to do this, to fix things when you got home.  He owed all of you that much, “I promised I would return you home, and I am, but the portal can only stay open for a few moments.  This is our one shot.  Trust me.”

A moment later, he joined you at the base of the ship before taking your hand and leading you onto it.

“We’ll fix this,” he promised, his voice low so only you could hear, “Together.  We’ll go home to the future, and we’ll fix this, and then-” your eyes met his as he paused, “And then, maybe, we could start our future.”

Despite the tears that threatened to fall, you smiled ever so slightly, “We’ll build a new one if we have to.”

It wasn’t until his lips met yours that you started crying.  It wasn’t his fault it was just- fuck you would miss this.  You smiled again as you pulled apart, though the tears hadn’t stopped.  It was for his sake, really.  Under normal circumstances, you might pretend that everything was fine, but for just one second, you wanted to believe it.

“I love you,”  your voice shook, and you hated it.

“I love you, too,”  his voice was strong, yet tired.  And you loved it.

You pushed a small smile onto your face, trying to cast the illusion that you were okay, and that everything was okay, and that no one would die when you returned.  Your attempts were quickly halted by a sting on your cheek.  That came from him, you realized, as you noticed a thin cut that ran across his cheekbone.  You ran your thumb over it, his skin patching together and healing under your hand.  At least you could still do that one thing.  Sure, you were a traitorous assassin, but by god could you heal a small cut.

Douxie smiled, his grin seeming more natural than yours.  He kissed you one last time before letting you go and taking the time map.  You watched him, not saying a word as he said something under his breath and activated the map and the heart.  A beam of light lit the night sky green, going on for a moment until it formed a portal.  You could almost see your time on the other side. That was it.  That was how you would get back to the future.  Yay.

It was weird.  You’d known Douxie for so long, and hated him for most of that time, but now?  Now you were dreading going back to your time, going back to general safety because it meant that he would die.  It was just odd to think that there was a time where you would have wished for this, for a chance to kill him and avoid the blame.  If you wished for anything now, it would be another way out.

You followed Douxie onto Merlin’s airship and walked past him, standing as far away as you could.  You didn’t know what would happen when you crossed that barrier.  You might try to murder him instantly, you might be able to control yourself, you might be able to fight off your curse entirely.  The point is, you didn’t know, and distance was the best solution.  So, you stood alone and stared off into the night as the ship moved off towards the portal until Steve’s ramblings returned your attention to your friends.

“Man, Camelot was crazy!  Why don’t they ever talk about that in the history books?”

Douxie gave the blond kid a pat on the shoulder, and you watched as Steve headed towards the front of the ship where Jim and Claire stood.  The girl was looking back towards you, but you couldn’t meet her eyes.  Her boyfriend was doomed, and there was nothing you could do about it.  And you would have done anything.  For those kids, you’d give your own life in a heartbeat, but that wasn’t an option.  Not now, not yet.  Douxie, however, met her eyes, though only for a moment.  You didn’t have to hear him to know what he was thinking.

“My burden to bear.”

And with those final words, the world turned green, and you were gone.

[sociallyanxiouss]

The Sister (Neville Longbottom)

MASTERLIST

pairing : neville longbottom x potter! reader

word count : 1689 words

summary :  you’re the overlooked potter twin, but as you grew older, you grew more graceful and cause people to finally looked at your way, but you didn’t realize that a herbology genius has been looking at you for some time now.

a/n : hi again! it’s been a while, i know. i actually have one last, (not that important) paper left before i settle until graduation. i am currently going through so much change at the moment. i decided to make this a mini series since i wanted to incorporate all the emotions in this and the parts in the future. with that being said, this part of the series might be a little boring since it’s just a tiny filler about the reader’s life and character. enjoy! 

also, there is voldy in this, but there isn’t a war! things after the goblet of fire did not happen!

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you grew up not shy. frankly, you were the opposite. no, you weren’t the type to embarrass yourself in public or get yourself in trouble, you left that for your brother. 

yes, your brother is the chosen one. the one everyone wants to be friends with, but also the one that often gets into big trouble. at first, it seemed that you gained a lot of friends from just sitting next to your brother, and announcing that you were in fact, her twin, younger by fifteen minutes, sister.

but then you later understood that they weren’t really keen in making friends with you, but more of to get closer to harry. there was a point in time where you told yourself that you were just overthinking it, but then, you soon realized that in all the conversations of yours and your “friends”, they would only talk about harry. 

soon enough, you learnt to just ignore them. since then, it has always been harry this and harry that. 

harry is a great brother, though. he tried to include you in many of his conversations with his “followers” but you soon understood that people didn’t really care about you, but more of your brother. 

you also stayed trying to be a good enough sister. you always took blame for him. even in things as simple a reason to his terrible potions in the potion making class since you knew that professor snape loved to pick on him and you. you took blame for him since you knew that being the sole target by voldermort was hard as it is. 

you didn’t understand why, though. you had survived the killing curse as much as he did, if not more.

from that tragic day of your parents’ death inflicted by by the wrinkly and boney looking man you call voldermort, harry and you were supposed to die from the killing curse, but fate decided that you both deserve to live, and go through the adventures that the wizarding world provided you. 

harry ended up with a lightning bolt scar on the top right side of his forehead, but you had gotten a worse fate. the curse had hit you first, then harry, making you the one who got more of the hit. 

the damage from that day had actually made you almost incapable of doing the most easiest tasks. as simple as walking. that meant that growing up, you took longer to learn how to walk in aa straight line than most people did. 

you also had a tendency to faint really easily, which made life already harder than it is since you and harry had to live with the dursleys. 

this condition you had also was used in the reason to blame yourself for the things that your brother did. for example, if harry’s potion did blow up everywhere because he seemed to always get it wrong, you would say that you just almost fainted. you had to tell them privately, though, since you didn’t want everyone in hogwarts to know.

you having this fainting condition did not faze the dursleys. they actually treated you worst that you had the condition. they said that you made their lives a living hell since you need specific medications and couldn’t eat certain foods. 

when hagrid came and raided your home with the dursleys, he made sure to get two different birthday cakes, one containing ingredients that would not flare up your “sickness”. 

between harry and you, you had more common sense. you knew you had some kind of magical powers since you accidentally said a type of hex to the dursleys. when you told harry that day, he did not believe you, until hagrid came and told him all about it. 

having the condition seemed a lot more bearable sine harry is super helpful with trying to make sure you are constantly comfortable. you both knew that nothing would part you but you soon realized that you did have to part ways since he later became the more known one. 

you both were put into gryffindor but harry seemed to fit the gryffindor “vibe” than you did. he was clearly too brave for his own good and you just hated to get into trouble, making you too “scared” to do certain things. 

fainting every couple of hours also didn’t help you at all. you just couldn’t handle too much stress in fear that your fainting problem would get worst. 

not many knew about this part of you, but your brother, hermione and ron. you always wanted a trio of your own, but you later understood that it was impossible since no one actually wanted to be your friend. 

but you learnt to be independent, and learnt to handle your condition yourself. 

fifth year, a year after the tragic year of cedric’s death, things were slowly going normal. 

since life was going well and normal, harry and you both agreed to make the most out of it. hanging out with friends, doing adventurous things, at least till what you can take, not overstepping your own boundaries.

 growing up in hogwarts from before you were teenager made you realize what you preferred in life. for example, friends, food, crushes. 

it was tough for you to find someone to like, especially since you knew it wouldn’t get far anyways. so what was the point of developing feelings for someone if it was going nowhere.

soon you gave up, but you knew what you preferred in guys. you’d rather talk to the shy, timid, nerdy ones rather than the snobby ones whose friends are only with them because they’re rich.

it was a personal preference, you hated when guys’ egos are bigger than their dicks, you liked the ones that humbled themselves and were a little more on the quieter side. 

this is cliche but you had an eye for the herbology genius once, in your early hogwarts days. soon, you knew you had to keep it on the low and diminish your feelings for him since you knew it would get your nowhere. 

neville longbottom was more of a nerd in his first couple years of school, but he grew to be more brave, to fit more of the grffyindor title and grew gracefully. 

but you could only admire from afar. harry knew about this crush of yours, he is your twin after all, and you couldn’t keep much secrets from him. this also meant that hermione and ron knew too. 

you begged them for days to not make it too obvious, and that you were trying to push the feelings you had for him down far in your heart. 

the older you grew, the healthier you became. now, you were able to go days without fainting. you also found yourself comfortable enough to hang out with your brother’s friends often. you could now say that they were your real friends. 

when your sixth year came about, you also grew to get out of your “shy” shell that you’ve built since joining hogwarts. you also found your identity, seeing what vibe suits you and what you were comfortable with. 

that year, people started noticing you for you and not the fact that you were just your brother’s twin.

now, you were seated in the great hall, opposite of harry and ron, beside hermione. the both of you always had drama to talk about, so soon enough, you just started sitting next to each other everywhere, classes, for meals. it also didn’t help that you two shared a room together. 

you still noticed neville, you could never forget him. in your fifth year, you realized that there was no use in trying so hard to forget him. all you thought about was him. as long as you were being discreet, he wouldn’t know. 

what you didn’t know was that he had always known you, even before everyone did. how could he not, you and harry are the potter twins, for merlins sake. 

he got to see you grew up to be a beautiful woman, too. 

he told himself that he had to grow up and grow brave in order to talk to you, so that was what he did. 

you walked in the great hall, looking for your friends since you woke up a little later than usual. you spotted them talking whilst shoving food in their mouths.

nope, that’s just ron being ron. 

you tied your long dark hair up into a high ponytail using a hair tie you had on your left wrist, walking to your usual seat next to hermione. 

as you were walking, you felt a gaze on you. although that was normal to you now, you felt the need to see the person. you turned your head to look at the culprit, seated a slightly further from you and the trio.

your heart skipped a beat. your eyes caught neville’s stare. 

since you knew how to push your emotions down easier now, you simply smiled and gave him a little wink before sitting down on the bench of the great hall. 

neville, on the other hand, did not take that exchange well. his heart was basically beating out of his chest. did he even see that right? you winked at him. 

“whoa did she just wink at you?” seamus said, seated next to him. 

still stunned, neville couldn’t answer. he could only offer a shrug of his shoulders to show that he in fact, didn’t believe it himself. 

“damn i’m jealous of you, i wish she would wink at me like that.” dean thomas told him. 

seamus nodded his head, agreeing to what the dark skinned boy had just said. 

after eating your breakfast, everyone left for their common rooms, seeing as it was the weekends. 

you sat with your three friends on the couch that was in the common room. you and harry were currently teasing ron and hermione because of their newly found feelings for each other. 

you had your legs on top of your brother’s lap as you sat between hermione and harry, with ron on the floor. 

you couldn’t believe that you had finally found your happy place.

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a/n : hello! please mind that this is going to be a small series and this is only the first part. i am also super happy to annouce that i am officially done with finals and only have my graduation left! please keep leaving me requests, i will try my best to write all of them as fast as possible. 

TAGLIST

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@imonlyherecauseimbored @lokilover-39 @evilluciferisevil @misselsbells06 @thatcatsit

[geshertzarmeod]

Favorite Books of 2020

I wanted to put together a list! I read 74 new books this year, and I keep track of that on Goodreads - feel free to add or follow me if you want to see everything! I’m going to focus on the highlights, and the books that stuck with me personally in one way or another, in approximate order. Also, all but two of them (#5 and #7 on the honorable mention list) are queer/trans in some way. Links are to Goodreads, but if you’re looking to get the books, I suggest your library, the Libby app using your library, your local bookstore, or Bookshop.

The Faggots & Their Friends Between Revolutions by Larry Mitchell, illus. by Ned Asta (originally published 1977). I had a hard beginning of the year and was in a work environment where my queerness was just not welcomed or wanted. I read this in the middle of all of that, and it helped me so much. I took this book with me everywhere. I read it on planes. I read it on the bus, and on trains, and at shul. I showed it to friends... sometimes at shul, or professional development conferences. It healed my soul. Now I can’t find it and might get a new copy. When I reviewed it, in February, I wrote: “I think we all need this book right now, but I really needed this book right now. Wow. This book is magic, and brings back a sense of magic and beauty to my relationship with the world.” Also I bought my copy last July, in a gay bookstore on Castro St. in SF, and that in itself is just beautiful to me. (Here’s a post I made with some excerpts)

Once & Future duology, especially the sequel, Sword in the Stars, by A.R. Capetta and Cory McCarthy. Cis pansexual female King Arthur Ari Helix (she's the 42nd reincarnation and the first female one) in futuristic space with Arab ancestry (but like, from a planet where people from that area of earth migrated to because, futuristic space) works to end Future Evil Amazon.com Space Empire with her found family with a token straight cis man and token white person. Merlin is backwards-aging so he's a gay teenager with a crush and thousands of years of baggage. The book’s entire basis is found family, and it's got King Arthur in space. And the sequel hijacks the original myth and says “fuck you pop culture, it was whitewashed and straightwashed, there were queer and trans people of color and strong women there the whole time.” Which is like, my favorite thing to find in media, and a big part of why I love Xena so much. It’s like revisionist history to make it better except it’s actually probably true in ways. Anyway please read these books but also be prepared for an absolutely absurd and wild ride. Full disclosure though, I didn’t love the first book so much, it’s worth it for the sequel!

The Wicker King by K. Ancrum. This book hurt. It still hurts. But it was so good. It took me on a whole journey, and brought me to my destination just like it intended the whole time. The author’s note at the end made me cry! The sheer NEED from this book, the way the main relationship develops and shifts, and how you PERCEIVE the main relationship develops and shifts. I’m in awe of Ancrum’s writing. If you like your ships feral and needy and desperate and wanting and D/S vibes and lowkey super unhealthy but with the potential, with work, to become healthy and beautiful and right, read this book. This might be another one to check trigger warnings for though.

The Entirety of The Daevabad Trilogy by S.A. Chakraborty. I hadn’t heard of this series until this year, when a good friend recommended it to me. It filled the black hole in me left by Harry Potter. The political and mystical/fantasy world building is just *chef’s kiss* - the complexity! The morally grey, everyone’s-done-awful-things-but-some-people-are-still-trying-to-do-good tapestry! The ROMANCE oh my GOD the romance. If I’m absolutely fully invested in a heterosexual romance you know a book is good, but also this book had background (and then later less background) queer characters! And the DRAMA!!! The third book went in a direction that felt a little out of nowhere but honestly I loved the ride. I stayed up until 6am multiple times reading this series and I’d do it again.

An Unkindness of Ghosts by Rivers Solomon. I loved this book so much that it’s the only book I reviewed on my basically abandoned attempt at a book blog. This book is haunting, horrifying, disturbing, dark, but so, so good. The character's voices were so specific and clear, the relationships so clearly affected by circumstance and yet loving in the ways they could be. This is my favorite portrayal of gender maybe ever, it’s just... I don’t even have the words but I saw a post @audible-smiles​ made about it that’s been rattling in my head since. And, “you gender-malcontent. You otherling,” as tender pillow talk??? Be still my heart. Be ready, though, this book has all the triggers.. it’s a .

Felix Ever After by Kacen Callender. This book called me out on my perspective on love. Also, it made me cry a lot. And it has two different interesting well-written romance storylines. And a realistic coming-into-identity narrative about a Black trans demiboy. And a nuanced discussion of college plans and what one might do after college. And some big beautiful romcom moments. I wish I had it in high school. I’m so glad I have it now! (trigger warning for transphobia & outing, but the people responsible are held accountable by the end, always treated as not okay by the narrative, and the MC’s friends, and like... this is ownvoices and it’s GOOD.)

The Starless Sea by Erin Morgenstern. My Goodreads review says, “I have no idea what happened, and I loved it.” That’s not wrong, but to delve deeper, this book has an ethereal feeling that you get wrapped up in while reading. Nothing makes sense but that’s just as it should be. You’re hooked. It is so atmospheric, so meta, so fascinating. I’ve seen so many people say they interpreted this character or that part or the ending in all different ways and it all makes sense. And it’s all of this with a gay main character and romance and the central theme, the central pillar being a love of and devotion to stories. Of course I was going to love it.

Fierce Femmes and Notorious Liars: A Dangerous Trans Girl’s Confabulous Memoir by Kai Cheng Thom. “Because maybe what really matters isn’t whether something is true, or false. Maybe what matters is the story itself; what kinds of doors it opens, what kinds of dreams it brings.” This book was so good and paradigm shifting. It reminded me of #1 on this list in the way it turns real life experience and hard, tragic ones at that (in this case, of being a trans girl of color who leaves home and tries to make a life for herself in the city, with its violence), into a beautiful, haunting fable. Once upon a time.

I Wish You All the Best by Mason Deaver. I need to reread this book, as I read it during my most tranceful time of 2020 and didn’t write a review, so I forgot a lot. What I do remember is beautiful and important nonbinary representation, a really cute romance, an interesting parental and familial/sibling dynamic that was both heartbreaking and hopeful, and an on-page therapy storyline. Also Mason Deaver just left twitter but was an absolutely hilarious troll on it before leaving and I appreciate that (and they just published a Christmas novella that I have but haven’t read yet!)

The Truth Is by NoNieqa Ramos. It took a long time to trust this book but I’m so glad I did. It’s raw and real and full of grief and trauma (trigger warnings, that I remember, for grief, death (before beginning of book), and gun violence). The protagonist is flawed and gets to grow over the course of the book, and find her own place, and learn from the people around her, while they also learn to understand her and where she’s coming from. It’s got a gritty, harsh, and important portrayal of found family, messy queerness, and some breathtaking quotes. When I was 82% through this book I posted this update: “This book has addressed almost all of my initial hesitations, and managed to complicate itself beautifully.”

Anger is a Gift by Mark Oshiro.  I wasn’t actually in the best mental health place to read this book when I did (didn’t quite understand what it was) but it definitely reminded me of what there is to fight against and to fight for, and broke my heart, and nudged me a bit closer to hope. The naturally diverse cast of characters was one of the best parts of this book. The romance is so sweet and tender and then so painful. This book is important and well-written but read it with caution and trigger warnings - it’s about grief and trauma and racism and police brutality, but also about love and community.

The Prey of Gods by Nicky Drayden.  This is a sci-fi/fantasy/specfic mashup that takes place in near-future South Africa and has world-building myths with gods and demigoddesses and a trip to the world of the dead but also a genetically altered hallucinogenic drug that turns people into giant animals and a robot uprising and a political campaign and a transgender pop star and a m/m couple and all of them are connected. It’s bonkers. Like, so, so absolutely mind-breaking weird. And I loved it.

Crier’s War and Iron Heart by Nina Varela.  I absolutely LOVE LOVE LOVED the amount of folktales they told each other with queer romances as integral to those stories, especially in Iron Heart. A conversation between the two leads where Crier says she wants to read Ayla like a book, and Ayla says she’s not a book, and Crier explains all the different ways she wants to know Ayla, like a person, and wants to deserve to know her like a person, made me weak. It lives in my head rent-free.

Queen’s Shadow by E.K. Johnston @ekjohnston . I listened to this book on Libby and then immediately listened to it at least one more time, maybe twice, before my borrow time ran out. I love Padmé, and just always wish that female Star Wars characters got more focus and attention and this book gave me that!! And queer handmaidens! And the implication that Sabé is in love with Padmé and that’s just something that will always be true and she will always be devoted and also will make her own life anyway. And the Star Wars audiobooks being recorded the way they are with background sounds and music means it feels like watching a really long detailed beautiful Star Wars movie just about Padmé and her handmaidens.

Sissy: A Coming of Gender Story by Jacob Tobia. I needed to read this. The way Tobia talks about their experience of gender within the contexts of college, college leadership, and career, hit home. I kept trying to highlight several pages in a row on my kindle so I could go back and read them after it got returned to the library (sadly it didn’t work - it cuts off highlights after a certain number of characters). The way they talk about TOKENISM they way they talk about the responsibilities of the interviewer when an interviewee holds marginalized identities especially when no one else in the room does!!! Ahhhh!!!

Bonds of Brass by Emily Skrutskie. Disclaimer for this one that the author was rightfully criticized for writing a Black main character as a white author (and how the story ended up playing into some fucked up stuff that I can’t really unpack without spoiling). But also, the author has been working to move forward knowing she can’t change the past, has donated her proceeds, and this book is really good? It has all the fanfic tropes, so much delicious tension, a totally unexpected plot twist that had me immediately rereading the book. This book was super fun and also kind of just really really good Star Wars fanfiction.

How To Be a Normal Person by T.J. Klune. This book was so sweet, and cute, and hopeful, and both ridiculous and so real. I had some trouble getting used to Gus’ voice and internal monologue, but I got into it and then loved every bit after. The ace rep is something I’ve never seen like this before (and have barely read any ace books but still this was so fleshed out and well rounded and not just like, ‘they’re obsessed with swords not sex’ - looking at you, Once & Future - and leaving it there.) This all felt like a slice of life and I feel like I learned about people while reading it. Some of the moments are so, so funny, some are vaguely devastating. I have been personally victimized by TJ Klune for how he ends this book (a joke, you will know once you read it) but it also reminds me of the end of the “You Are There” episode of Xena and we all know what the answer to that question was.... and I choose to believe the answer here was similar.

You Should See Me in a Crown by Leah Johnson. I wish I had this book when I was in high school. I honestly have complicated feelings about prom and haven’t really been seeking out contemporary YA so I was hesitant to read this but it was so good and so well-written, and had a lot of depth to it. The movie (and Broadway show) “The Prom” wants what this book has.

Plain Bad Heroines by Emily M. Danforth. I never read horror books, so this was a new thing for me. I loved the feeling of this book, the way I felt fully immersed. I loved how entirely queer it was. I was interested in the characters and the relationships, even though we didn’t have a full chance to go super deep into any one person but rather saw the connections between everyone and the way the stories matched up with each other. I just wanted a bit of a more satisfying ending.

Honorable Mention: reread in 2020 but read for the first time pre-2020

Red White & Royal Blue by Casey McQuiston. I couldn’t make this post without mentioning this book. It got me through this year. I love this book so much; I think of this book all the time. This book made me want to find love for myself. You’ve all heard about it enough but if you haven’t read this book what are you DOING.

In Other Lands by Sarah Rees Brennan @sarahreesbrennan​ . I reread this one over and over too, both as text and as an audiobook. I went for walks when I had lost my earbuds and had Elliott screaming about an elf brothel loudly playing and got weird looks from someone walking their dog. I love this book so much. It’s just so fun, and so healing to read a book reminiscent of all the fantasies I read as a kid, but with a bi main character and a deconstruction of patriarchy and making fun of the genre a bit. Also, idiots to lovers is a great trope and it’s definitely in this book.

Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe by Benjamin Alire Sáenz. This book is forever so important to me. I am always drawn in by how tenderly Sáenz portrays his characters. These boys. These boys and their parents. I love them. I love them so much. This is another one where I don’t even know what to say. I have more than 30 pages in my tag for this book. I have “arda” set as a keyboard shortcut on my phone and laptop to turn into the full title. This book saved my life.

Last Night I Sang to the Monster by Benjamin Alire Sáenz. This book hurts to read - it’s a story about trauma, about working through that trauma, healing enough to be ready to hold the worst memories, healing enough to move through the pain and start to make a life. It’s about found family and love and pain and I love it. It’s cathartic. And it’s a little bit quietly queer in a beautiful way, but that’s not the focus. Look up trigger warnings (they kind of are spoilery so I won’t say them here but if you have the potential to be triggered please look them up or ask me before reading)

Ella Enchanted by Gail Carson Levine.  When asked what my all time favorite book is, it’s usually this one. Gail Carson Levine has been doing live readings at 11am since the beginning of the pandemic shut down in the US, and the first book she read was Ella Enchanted. I’ve been slowly reading it to @mssarahpearl and am just so glad still that it has the ability to draw me in and calm me down and feels like home after all this time. This book is about agency. I love it.

Radio Silence by Alice Oseman @chronicintrovert . I’ve had this on my all-time-faves list since I read it a few years ago and ended up rereading it this year before sending a gift copy to a friend, so I could write little notes in it. It felt a little different reading it this time - as I get further away from being a teenager myself, the character voice this book is written in takes a little longer to get used to, but it’s so authentic and earnest and I love it. I absolutely adore this book about platonic love and found family and fandom and mental illness and abuse and ace identity and queerness and self-determination, especially around college and career choices. Ahhh. Thank you Alice Oseman!!!

Leia: Princess of Alderaan by Claudia Gray @claudiagray​ . I have this one on audible and reread it several times this year. I love the fleshing out of Leia’s story before the original trilogy, I love her having had a relationship before Han, and the way it would have affected her perspective. I also am intrigued by the way it analyses the choices the early rebellion had to make... I just, I love all the female focused new Star Wars content and the complexity being brought to the rebellion.