#area rugs mart

[caykeisart]

Basement - Underground Large modern underground basement idea with a medium tone wood floor and a brown floor and gray walls

[penny-beee]

Nothings Lost - Joel x OC Pt. 1

Pairing  - Joel x OC

Warnings - None right now

WC - Roughly 2.5k

Summary - Josephine Bailey was a loner, separated from her family on outbreak day she had never created a group of stayed with people. A fighter, she never gave up finding her family (even after setting in a small community in NW Washington State). When she receives word that her family is alive in Jackson Wyoming, she goes to see if its a reality. Not realizing she would finally have to lose some independence.

________________________________________________________________

     The world was quiet, water softly rushing in the distance. Streams and little bodies of water covered the northwest tip of Washington state. Always green and blossoming with life. The world was peaceful in this area, no one bothering the occupants because of the harsh weather. The constant rain and gloominess, kept most of the remaining survivors safe.

     Jo stood from the spot she sat at, watching as a rare deer ran off. A heavy sigh leaving her lips, she placed her bow back onto her back. The wood curved perfectly to her back. Crackles of thunder roared over her as she made her way back to camp. Her beat-up brown boots sloshed in the muddy grass, hat keeping her face from the rain. Her mothers favorite cowboy hat had made it through these twenty years.

     Jo gazed out at the open world, nothing destroyed and sad here, only the weather. No fungus, no infection. She was happy, content with her little town. Her feet led her to the community. It had only about fifteen houses, a market and stables. She continued to slosh her way down to the market. As she entered the old minute mart, her friend Julia stood behind the old counter.

     Julia was about Jo’s age, around mid thirties. She was sweet, rough and rugged but sweet. Julia was the towns main woman for food, mail, rumors, ammo, etc. She had it all. Julia turned her attention to Jo, giving her a small grin.

     “What can I do for you today Ms. Bailey?”

    Giving a tiny wave, she spoke up. “Nothing much, I need some arrows from Vince and some apples. Gonna make a pie.” She stated, hands resting up on the counter just across from Julia’s.

     Julia nodded, bun bouncing slightly as she turned to grab a bushel. “Oh! A letter came in for you today. Signed C.B.” Voice quieting.

      Jo’s face completly shifted, something she hadn’t seen since she was about fourteen. Claire Bailey. Her oldest sister, she was about five years older than Jo. Her hands moistened at the thought of family still out there. “Give it to me.” She paused not seeing Julia rush. “Now!” She raised her voice to let the other woman know it was important.

     Julia whispered an okay and grabbed it from below her post. A little white envelope with charcoal etched on the front ‘To Josephine Bailey.’ Jo gulped-hard, ripping open the prehistoric paper. An old faded piece of lined school paper laid in her hands. Eyes scanning quickly she read:      ‘Josephine baby, if you’re in Quileute please find us. Father, Nick, me and Lisa are in Jackson Wyoming. We miss you so much and hope you’re still alive or in your community. We have safety, food, a house and anything else you need. I’ll tell you about mom and Alex when you get here. xoxo’

     Salty tears welled up in the woman’s eyes, her heart racing through her chest. Nothing could’ve prepared her for this, she was in Jackson only a year ago and they weren’t. They had just passed each other. Sighing heavily, she gazed back up at Julia, pausing as she thought of what to do.

     “I’m gonna need all the arrows you can give me, all the ammo you can muster, a shine on my knife and two bags of oats.” Was all she said, slamming a few pieces of jewels on the counter.

     “I want the ring.” Julia bluntly spoke, eyeing the jade ring on Jo’s pinky finger. Huffing, she yanked it off and handed it to Julia. “Nice doing business with you.” Julia smirked, eyeing it now on her own finger.

     Jo left the market with a bag full of essentials. Ready for her adventure back out east.                                        — 2 weeks and 3 days later —      Jo didn’t have much trouble on the road, pretty smooth riding. Ran into a few clickers and maybe two runners but otherwise it was scenic. Her horse Alpa was used to the long rides, he was smooth and quick when he needed to be and trusted Jo. The two worked hand in hand to get safely to Jackson.

     Alpa walked slowly to the large wooden front gate of the town. Two guards standing at watch posts. Lifting their guns to her.

     “State your business.” One ordered, not talking his eyes off her.

     Her eyes ran between the two, hand resting on her old Winchester. Eyes resting on the one that talked first, she spoke up. “Family found sanctuary, I’m here to meet em’.”

     “Which family?” He asked again.

     The woman’s eyes rolled with annoyance. “Baileys.” Fingers now tapping the gun in a little pattern.

     “You been bit?” The other guy asked,  eyes looking her up and down. “Don’t lie cause we’ll check.”

     Scoffing, “No, I know how to handle the infected.” She spat, voice not raising but still sounding menacing.

     With a huff the men check her, noticing nothing unusual about her, they open the gate. Jo nods their way and follows the signs to the stables. A short ride to the left, Alpa had grown tired at the sight of a place to sleep. A man stood in front of the stables, tying some rope. His eyes caught her figure, up on the large stallion. The man waved her over.

     His eyes are aging, crows feet almost hiding them. Hair still pretty dark but slightly graying. The man looked like he was the guy in charge of this whole operation. “And who might you be?” He asked, eyeing the horse before turning to Jo.

     Jo held Alpa’s reins tight, patting his neck soothingly. “I’m Josephine Bailey, Hanson Baileys daughter.” She said, her eyes searched his.

     “Oh, no shit?” He chuckled at her. “Let’s put this fine stead away and I’ll lead you there!” He smiled, taking the reins from her.

      Her fingers tapped on her blue jeans as she waited for him to tie Alpa up. Jo grabbed her own luggage and swung it over her shoulders. The weight not bothering her, she had grown muscular over the years. Packing and fighting on her own. Jo never needed a partner besides Alpa and she liked it that way.

     The man went to help her, hands going to grab her bow. “I got it.” She snapped, her fingers snatching it from him.

     He smiled at her independence and backed off. “This way Ms. Bailey.”

     The two walked down the busy streets, feet matching in pace. Hers maybe a little faster than him. Heart exploding in her chest as she thought of being reunited with her family. The last thing she had said to any of them was ‘I love you’ thankfully.

     The man led them to a large house, two stories, faded blue paint and dirty white trim. The door had a screen closed and front door open. Guitar playing out for them to hear. Nick. He played in high school and was absolutely amazing at it.  A wide grin grew on her cheeks. hands squeezing tight as she thanked the man.

      Jo ran like she never had before up the stairs, feet stomping loudly and the guitar playing coming to a halt. “Nick!” She yelled, slamming the screen open and speeding to the living room. He was standing in the corner, eyes widened and mouth agape as he watched her run to her. 

     She was smaller than he remembers, hair still wavy and a mess. Now a few grays but she carried the youth in her face well. She almost hadn’t changed at all. A few cuts and scars but nothing astronomical. His arms opened almost without thought and wrapped tightly around her.

     “Jo girl. I can’t believe you’re here.” His eyes welled with tears as she inhaled his smell. His heart swelled a million times bigger than just a few seconds before.

     “Claire told me you were here.” Her voice breaking at the tears choking back in her throat.

     Nick pulled back looking towards the old wooden stairs. “Dad, Claire, Lisa! Jo is here!” His words echoed throughout the house. Almost shaking the shutters outside.

          More heavy footsteps raced down the stairs, the house moving with the thumps of the feet. First came Lisa, the youngest of all the Bailey’s. Her hair a dirty blonde, she had it tied in a loose bun. A long dress wrapped around her body. She was a woman now; last Jo had seen her she was just a small girl. Her face still round like when she was a child, it kept her looking youthful.

         Lisa embraced Jo tightly, her arms squeezing at Pennie’s aching back. “I can’t believe you’re here.” Her voice squeezed with the tightness of the hug. “Claire and I wrote the letter hoping you would turn up some day.” Lisa rested her head softly on Jo.

         Nick joined in, hugging the two girls. Two extra arms wrapped around the three, the smell of old cigars followed suit. Dad, Jo thought. “Where’s Claire?” Jo asked, her voice muffled from Nicks chest.

         Her father grumbled, “Probably out chasing that Lance boy.” She hadn’t changed it seemed, always finding some new guy to love on.

         The bunch pulled away all gazing at Jo, they thought she had died. The night Jo was separated, the family went to the school and just as they missed each other by a year with Jackson. It was only about 2 hours that night. They didn’t know where she would’ve gone, no average family really talks about the world ending. So, they drove and drove not knowing where she would be and the house was pretty much destroyed. Jo ending up in a car she had stolen from her now infected neighbors.

         Her dad spoke up, watering eyes blurring his vision just a bit. “Lets eat some food.” He sighed, reaching out to hug his long-lost daughter.

                                                             ~~~

     Jackson was different than Quileute, there were lots of houses, a bar and more. No freezing rain or massive lightning storms. The towns people were kind, open, and welcoming. Trees were sparse but comparable to the Northwest. The smell absolutely alien to her. She was used to mildew and salt water; she got mud and lavender.

     Jo had learned that the man that helped her find her families house was Tommy Miller. The leader of the town. He was nice enough, helpful. She hadn’t left the house much, if at all. She wanted to be with her family after not being for so long. They gave her, her little brothers old room. She grieved for Alex for about 4 days, looking at his collected trinkets. He was a sweet boy and the second youngest, a star basketball player. One film picture of him after the apocalypse sat on his dresser and she placed it in her beat-up wallet.

     Jo took time one afternoon to clear out some of Alex’s stuff and placed it in the attic with her mother’s stuff. Just as she grieved Alex, she did her mother. That one burning just a bit more, her mother was good and soft. Wholesome and kind, she was a gentle woman.

     She moved her small amount of things in. Her dresser basically empty, only a pair of cargo pants, an old grey Carhartt hoodie from Alex, and a thermal shirt sat inside. The room was lit by candles and oil lamps, walls a soft green and the furniture made of some type of wood. Maybe oak, maybe pine? Who cares. Her film camera sat on the dresser, waiting to be used. The smell of dust and fresh air mixed into the space. This would be her home now.

     Jo slipped her beat up Blundstones on her feet, her mom fit Wranglers complimenting nicely. Not that she was really needing to be a fashionista right now, she just found the little things nice. Smiling to herself she threw on her cream thermal over her tank top. Placing her mom’s old cowgirl hat on her head, she felt ready for her first day out.

     First, she would donate some of Alex’s clothes, maybe trade. Second, she would find some work.

     Sun shining, birds chirping in the trees, the world seemed okay now. Jo plopped down the porch’s stairs with some of Alex’s clothes in hand. She gave them one last big sniff as she neared a market. Sun beating down on her back she grew warm. Escaping the heat, she slipped inside the store. The shop was quaint, an old white haired lady behind the counter, just how Julia was. The thought made her smile a bit.

     The woman peered at Jo, eyes squinting to focus on her face. “Well, aren’t you a pretty young thing?” She gushed, her voice rickety.

     Jo’s cheeks turned a shy shade of pink at the compliment. “Thank you, ma’am. I’m here to donate these.” Jo plopped the pile of clothes onto the counter.

     The older woman looked through them, folding them neatly and putting them on the shelves behind her. “Can I get you anything, darling?” She questioned.

      “Just the directions to a bar of some sort.” Jo smiled.

     Jo stopped in front of the sign, reading ‘The Tipsy Bison’. Chuckling, she stepped in. Room filled with men and women alike, it was nothing like back home. A strange circumstance. A man waited behind the bar, watching the shenanigans happen.

     “What can I get you Ms. Bailey?” The man spoke, the stranger somehow knowing who she was.

     Her eyes furrowed, not understanding that word spread in this town. “Uh.” She trailed, still confused. “Just whiskey.” She ordered, sitting on the torn-up bar stool.

     The man filled the short glass cup, not missing the mark on how full to fill it. “I’m Seth by the way, I own this place.” His voice rung in her ears, nothing she genuinely cared about.

     Jo nodded and took a sip of the strong ass drink. Lips pursing as she set the cup down. Gazing around the room, she didn’t notice anything or anyone remarkable, just average normal people. Jo grabbed the cup again, bringing it to her lips. A shoulder roughly knocked her forward, the drink spilling all over the front of her clothes and slightly on her freshly washed hair.

     A sharp bang came from the glass as she waved her hands to get the wetness off. She stood slowly, turning on her heel. Her eyes raised from the persons boots to blue jeans to a mans face. His eyes sunken and tired, he had no remorse even remotely on his face.

     “The fuck was that?” She questioned, hand on her favorite knife. Jo’s eyes stared right into his soul.

     He chuckled softly, seeing her get defensive. He was tall, towering over her. He seemed confident he could just say the right thing and get out of it. “I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve met before.” He smiled, offering a handshake.

     Her eyes narrowed, a quick glance at his extended hand to his eyes once more. “This is my favorite shirt.” She grumbled, hand smacking his out of her face. “Next time it wont be a smack.” Jo’s voice dripping with poison, she had grown past irritated. She left the smelly building with a few stomps.

     Grumbling more, she mumbled little ‘god damnits’ and ‘shits’ as she walked down the street. Her boots crumbled the now dry dirt, little dirt balls breaking under her feet. An almost silent shuffle came up behind her. A large hand tapping her shoulder.

     They cleared their throat before they spoke. “Hey, I’m-uh sorry. I wasn’t paying attention.” The same damn voice.

     Her eyes whipped around to his face. “Yeah obviously.” She motioned down to her shirt.

         He put his hand on his hip, relaxing as he tried to reason with her. He didn’t know why; he didn’t really care but for some reason he felt he needed to apologize to her. There was something about her he hadn’t seen in Jackson before, nor had he seen her to begin with. Scratching his salt and pepper beard, he spoke up once more. “Can I do anything?” He questioned.

          Jo’s eyes rolled as far back into her head as she could get them. “Yeah, watch out next time.” She spat.

[aclmartsjaipur]

Elevate Your Everyday: The Modern Man's Guide to Leather Wallets and Crossbody Bags

Leather accessories are timeless. They exude sophistication, durability, and a certain rugged charm. For the modern man, a well-crafted leather wallet and a stylish crossbody bag are essential companions, elevating everyday style and functionality.

The Perfect Leather Wallet: Finding Your Fit

A good wallet is more than just a place to store cash and cards. It's a reflection of your personality and a statement piece you carry with you everywhere. When choosing a leather men's wallet, consider these factors:

Style: Bifold wallets are classic and practical, offering easy access to essentials. Trifold wallets provide even more organization with dedicated compartments for cash, cards, and receipts. Consider a slim wallet if you prefer a minimalist profile for your front pocket.

Functionality: How much do you typically carry? If you need space for numerous cards and receipts, a bifold or trifold wallet with multiple compartments is ideal. Minimalists might prefer a slim wallet with just a few card slots and a cash pocket.

Leather Type: There are various leather types, each with its own characteristics. Full-grain leather is the most durable and develops a beautiful patina over time. Top-grain leather is a more affordable option with a consistent finish.

Color: Black and brown are timeless choices that go with everything. For a touch of personality, consider a wallet in a rich tan or a bold burgundy.

Invest in Quality: The Advantages of a Leather Men's Crossbody Bag

Leather crossbody bags offer a stylish and practical alternative to backpacks or traditional briefcases. Here's why a leather crossbody bag should be your next investment:

Convenience and Security: Crossbody bags keep your essentials close and secure, worn comfortably across your chest. This frees up your hands and offers peace of mind in crowded areas.

Versatility: Leather crossbody bags come in a variety of sizes, from compact styles for everyday essentials to larger options that can accommodate a tablet or small laptop. They seamlessly transition from work to weekend adventures.

Organization: Many crossbody bags have dedicated compartments for your phone, wallet, keys, and other everyday items. This keeps you organized and avoids digging through a bottomless bag.

Timeless Style: A well-made leather crossbody bag never goes out of fashion. It adds a touch of sophistication to your everyday attire, whether you're running errands, exploring the city, or grabbing drinks with friends.

Choosing the Right Leather Men's Crossbody Bag

With a plethora of options available, selecting the perfect leather crossbody bag requires some consideration:

Size: Choose a bag that comfortably fits your essentials without being bulky. Consider your typical daily carry and how much space you need.

Style: Do you prefer a sleek and minimal design or a bag with more pockets and compartments? Opt for a style that complements your personal aesthetic.

Strap Comfort: A comfortable strap is crucial for everyday use. Look for a padded strap that is adjustable for optimal wearability.

Leather Type: Similar to wallets, consider full-grain or top-grain leather depending on your budget and desired look.

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[formeryelpers]

Palihotel, 107 Pine St, Seattle (Downtown), WA 98101

It’s hard to beat the location of Palihotel, a 2 minute walk to Pike Place Market, super close to the light rail Westlake station, and a short walk to the Seattle Art Museum, Seattle Aquarium, and downtown. You can also easily walk to Belltown, Capitol Hill, and the International District (with a 1 mile radius of the hotel).

The hotel, which was probably a rundown old hotel before Pali took it over, is smaller but has a charming style (with dark green, plants, woods, and plaids), excellent Diptyque toiletries (soap, lotion, shampoo, conditioner, shower gel), and a well-regarded restaurant (The Hart and The Hunter).

My room was small (perfect size for one person) and had a view of another building and alley. I was surprised by how noisy it was. I heard sirens three times after midnight and could also hear traffic. The bed was comfy with lots of fluffy pillows and a pillow-top mattress. Towels were thick but not soft. The room seemed clean. I tried to change the temperature setting in my room and it seemed like it was centrally controlled.

My room had dark green walls, a small bathroom with a shower (no tub) and huge rain shower head, writing desk, TV, drawers, fridge, one chair, glasses and cups, and a phone.

Amenities include free wi-fi, in-room safe, concierge, housekeeping, room service, staffed front desk, SMEG mini fridge stocked with interesting drinks, snack basket, SMEG electric kettle, thick terry robe, cotton balls, ear plugs, writing pad, postcards, flatscreen TV with HBO, tea, coffee, etc. Snacks and drinks are added onto your bill if you consume them. The bottled water in the room is not complimentary.

They don’t have on-site parking or a fitness center. Rooms are smoke-free. I noticed electric bikes outside (must be available for rent) the hotel entrance.

The lobby had a large lounge area that looked like a library/living room with couches, tables, rugs, art, and lots of books. Loved the plaid carpeting in the hallways. There is one small elevator. The area has quite a few homeless people, so it’s not that nice but it is very central and close to lots of things. There’s a Target that’s very close and H Mart is across the street.

4 out of 5 stars

By Lolia S.

[zxvtrpnljhfdb]

Anyway, really what I wanted to talk about

So I had that unusual back/pelvis pain last night.

Today, rolling by Arby's, a restaurant I'm usually interested in, I was just like, hmm Arby's! 🤢

I wasn't even sure what I wanted for dinner, so I just didn't.

I'm not sure if the dizziness was from taking a moderately heavy object to the head. I'm not sure if the nausea was from taking a moderately heavy object to the head. It remains to be seen.

Oh, also, I really wanted to get into the psychology of this. I think my ex is scared, because I'm really really certain that I could just about clear this place out and I think bank records would show that I was well within my rights. And she doesn't want to work and earn money for whatever reason not my fucking problem. So how is she going to fill this apartment back up? I'm taking the couch, two of four desks, the cats, cat tree, all the lighting that I installed. I'm taking the majority of the food, since it's food I bought that I would be interested in eating or having on hand. I'm taking all the wall art and decoration. I'm taking all the dish stuff--and even a few dishes--the majority of the bathroom stuff.

I'm taking basically almost everything that I'm solely responsible for being here. And that's almost everything. I told her this was my fucking apartment, and this is what I meant. All that will remain, is hers. And she didn't contribute much, just took a lot.

Again, not my fucking problem. The only way I'm ever putting only some of my money into a joint account is if I'm married. I'm only putting precisely half of the rent or mortgage or car payment and utilities or whatever. I'm never ever sharing a fucking phone contract again. If I'm living with someone for more than a year and a half, it's marriage or we can live separately.

I have really had a quantum leap in the not taking shit from losers, and I value myself significantly more now than I did three years ago. Even before therapy.

She's such a fucking computer addict. Losing this computer would pretty much be like taking her hand away.

Quick aside, she also doesn't seem to know that I'm apparently officially no longer a resident here. I am no longer liable for damage done to this unit. They've already got my money though.

Anyway, I still have to try to continue working in the morning, so I need to get at least a couple hours of sleep.

Edit: Or maybe.........she's..... jealous.......??? I guess I shouldn't have bragged so loudly about how excited I am to move out and get this cool area rug and these awesome curtains and the water purifier and the soda machine.....?? I think it's pretty obvious, there's no fucking way I'm getting all of this shit it once. Even less way without the fucking money she stole. Like, at this point, it's going to have to be: paycheck one, final moving/move in expenses. Paycheck two, mattress or futon. Paycheck three, mattress or bed frame. Paycheck four, maybe now I can get the area rug. Guess six months from now, I can finally get that water purifier. And maybe I can get to Omega Mart when I retire.

[speedygal]

This is a post that deserves to be made regarding old public high schools turned into public community housing.

It's really weird. Jarring. I went to one such place that is in the middle of being changed into a public housing and being renovated so it's like in the process of transition. My brother is currently living in it for six months with his girlfriend. My brother doesn't work at Wal-mart anymore but at Lowes for those who follow my blog.

We entered the way on the side instead of the front door that still has the public high school at the front. Said landlord is planning to add a patio at the back, a parking lot to the right side of the building, trim some trees at the left hand side of the building behind the gravel parking lot that is planned to become paved.

Going up the stairs, it's weird. Hearing your footsteps echo behind you. You naturally and initially lower your voice at first because you anticipate there are students in class and school is in session. Knowing once, long ago, it used to have students walking these halls carrying binders, books, projects, etc, all the way to class and students who had personal drama occur in the halls of the building.

It's even stranger seeing numbers on the doors, albeit it, apartment numbers, instead of room numbers.

To consider that someone once attended this school could one day move in to live in, how do they feel? Is it surreal? Weird? Surreal? It's a lot like a school you attended becoming your place of residence and being upgraded before your very eyes and becoming host to eccentric characters.

Or if the school wasn't used in decades, I don't know how long ago it stopped being a school, but it is a thought to think about.

You go up another floor, and see that the floor is decorated in a rug in contrast to the lower floor in the hallway. There's another staircase that leads up but only to one room and you stop in your tracks.

You learn that they intend to bring in Hotel carpetting. They even have a device on one door that you have to key in your entrance code in order to unlock it which is really like a hotel room except there isn't a card. The upper floors are the opening crescendo of the change that is about to take place featuring replacing all the windows and the structures on the front half of the building, beams, scaffolding, idk.

If life was like a montage for this building, it would show busses driving students off then eventually, the busses stop driving, cars stop returning, and then they do, but the busses don't return. The montage would show the building being changed inside and outside as it becomes home again for different people.

On the plus side, the light switch in my brother's apartment is this

Once, sometime ago, I figure it used to be this

It's a strange feeling.

One moment you're walking up the stairs of a old school then the next floor is a hotel floor due to how modern it feels. A sudden shift from past to present. Like you're literally walking the halls of the past in the area that isn't renovated quite yet.

Also said old school, back in the 40's (or 50's?) had a principle that loved smoking cherry on one of the floors that my brother told me about. Maybe it was the 2nd floor in the 4th room or 3rd floor in the 4th room, from what my brother said, at certain times you can SMELL cherry according to the landlord. Which is a neat ghost related story in all that's memorable

[tomh5189]

Dragon Mart Carpets Abu Dhabi

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[officecarpet]

Dragon Mart Carpets Abu Dhabi

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[bookmarking555]

Dragon Mart Carpets Suppliers  Abu Dhabi

Discover the awe-inspiring beauty of Dragon Mart Carpets. Our collection of unique and handcrafted carpets, rugs and area rugs reflect the grace and elegance of their design, sophistication and style. Dragon Mart Carpets are hand made carpets, using the finest of materials and expert craftsmanship. The characteristics of our carpets are carefully chosen for durability and easy maintenance.

[rugexpoinc]

Rug Expo warehouse facility and corporate office is located in Dallas, Texas. Rug Expo continuously meets the customers' needs and desires by offering a unique variety of patterns, colors, qualities, and sales all year long. Our rugs include traditional, modern and classic collections. Visit our showroom or send us your wholesale information to request a catalog and become one of our Wholesale/Retail partners. We also have retail outlet locations.

[rugsmartdallas]

Rugs Mart Dallas was established in 2009 as a Rug Manufacturing company. We primarily deal in all types of rugs like an Afghani rug, area rugs and many more.

[casalioncollection]

Casa De Lion Rugs Collection Dallas | Rugs Mart Dallas

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[malibumart]

Carleton Navy Indoor/Outdoor Area Rug By Alcott Hill

http://malibumart.com/pin/carleton-navy-indooroutdoor-area-rug-by-alcott-hill/

[bush-viper-cutie]

“Malfoy Manor Arrival” || YEAR 3 – Ch.4 (HP au)

                              Chapter List

<-- Last Chapter                          Next Chapter -->

Day posted: 7/21/2020

Word count: 3,131

Relationship: EVENTUAL severus X oc (slow burn)

Rating: E for everyone

Warnings: none

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A/N: This is my first fan fic I’m writing mainly as a way to practice. This is a retelling of the hp books with an inserted character. Although most every character will be written about, this is mostly for the pro snape fandom. Please do not fear, although this is a severus x oc story, it is an incredibly slow burn as I do not intend for them to get together at all until after the final book events. Chapters will be posted twice a week.

This derivative work follows the events of the Harry Potter books by Jk Rowling and is intended as a fun way to practice my writing. Thank you for reading :D

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~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~

They had just left Privet Drive when a bird fluttering overhead under the moonlight, reminded Heather that she hadn’t replied to Draco yet about going over. The witch in the driver’s seat was turning into street after street looking for something and the man was pouring tea for them and talking about how curiously funny Uncle Vernon was.

“I need to send him an owl first!” Heather figured she’d get scolded for bad manners by the Malfoys and there was no way she’d allow Mr. Malfoy to yell at her like he had Harry. In fact, maybe she’d be forgiven easier if she made her stay at Malfoy Manor worth it for Harry and Ron somehow. “Can we stop by an Owl Post Office?”

“Oh certainly!” the witch squealed, “We can drop you off there and won’t have to go near that house! We don’t have to ride in this thing for much longer,” she smacked the car, “GO FASTER.”

They had arrived outside another house with pink rocks lining the driveway. The woman parked the car and got out, tiptoed over to Heather’s side and opened the car door for her and the old man. Confused, she followed their lead, closing the car doors quietly, and watched the witch take her trunk from the back and set it down.

“Um, where are we?”

The witch looked around and smiled, “Not sure, but its best we don’t stay for longer,” and held Heather and the man’s arms while gripping the trunk handle very tight. “We were just borrowing.”

Heather suddenly felt like she was being flung into a tornado, spinning around a million times a second. Her hair whipped around and she thought she was going to be sick when they suddenly stopped and the world stopped spinning around her.

There was a very small but tall building in front of them, sandwiched between two larger much more normal looking buildings, with four owls on the signpost reading ‘Owl Post Office’. The front of the small building looked like more of a quick mart than any post office and all the windows on every floor were lined with very eager looking owls.

“And here we are, just send your owl and the Floo to where you want to go – If it’s a no go from your friend then I suggest you Floo to the Leaky Cauldron. Alrighty!” she held the door open.

Heather nodded and blinked as she stepped into the very bright post office. It smelled like owl and the dinging bell was muffled by the sound of fluttering wings and excited hoots. She dragged her trunk to the counter and greeted the wizard who had been too busy with a crossword puzzle that rearranged itself with every mistake to notice her walk in.

“Oh, sorry ‘bout that,” he held out hand, “Letter or package?”

He had a very low gruff voice, like he’d been snoring for hours and only recently woke up with a sore and raspy throat. Heather quickly wrote out a letter to Draco and rolled it up, handing it to the man.

“‘Draco Malfoy, Malfoy Manor���,” he put two fingers to his lips and whistled.

Heather looked up to see a storm of owls all diving down to his outstretched arm, about a hundred at a time. She yelped and ducked down, covering her hair until the sound of furiously fluttering wings had stopped. The winning owl was a large one, with gold tipped feathers and a very shiny beak and eyes as big as the moon outside.

“That’ll be, er, four Sickles,” he held out his hand again.

She nodded and dug out five Sickles to give him and watched as he counted them up and stuffed them in his pocket. He walked over to the fireplace and threw floo powder into it, creating large green flames. He took the owl flung it through, wiped his hands, and walked back to his chair to continue his puzzle.

“I thought owls flew to places on their own,” Heather tapped on the counter, waiting for a response.

The man balanced a quill on his lip for a minute before taking it and scribbling something down, “Muggles may be unobservant, but I don’t think any of them will miss hundreds of owls flying in and out of this building,” he put the quill back on his lip and pointed at the fireplace.

The green fires returned and the same owl was now back – looking a little sooty – with a green scroll attached to his leg. She held out her arm and it landed gracefully, sticking out his leg for her.

“Thank you,” she took the scroll and unrolled it.

‘Do you have any idea how early it is? If you must come now, then do it. I’ll be waiting by the fire. Remember our deal, I’ll help you with your drills if you help me with mine. If you hold me back, I’ll kick you out and the only Potter on that field will be famous Harry Potter right before I kick him to the ground. He’ll be a famous weeping baby when I’m done with him.

– Draco Malfoy’

She could still turn back if she wanted. She didn’t have to go through with it… She huffed and crumpled the paper up, stuffing it in her pocket. A day, she could stay for a day and see how that went. She paid for the floo powder and threw it into the fireplace. She stuck her hand in and felt the familiar wet coldness of the flames as they swirled around her skin. She stepped in and felt her trunk get pressed into her like they were being stuffed inside a tube.

“Malfoy Manor,” she threw the last of the powder down.

After several disorienting spins she stepped out when she saw a very bored looking Draco leaning against a chair twirling his wand between his fingers. He looked at her unimpressed and yawned as she shook her hair in the fireplace and dusted off.

The room they were in was not very large with two doors bolted shut to her left and a large, carpeted, staircase leading upstairs in the center. There was a door to the left and right of the stairs, probably leading to the rest of the first floor. Opposite the fireplace was a large wall mirror with a bright silver frame and bellow it were two elegant matching chairs. The walls were white with black furniture and green with silver accent colors running throughout.

“Welcome. You’re the first and last Potter to step into Malfoy Manor,” Draco stood straight and headed for the stairs, “Leave your trunk. Our new house elf will get it.”

Heather gulped, remembering Harry had freed their last one a few months ago, “Alright.”

She followed him up to the landing where a giant painting of the three Malfoys hung. Draco must have been no older than six, in his mother’s arms with Mr. Malfoy behind them with both hands on his wife’s shoulders. She followed him up the second set of stairs – the left ones – which lead to a long hall of doors to the left and a wood one to the right.

“That’s the library,” Draco opened the wooden door for Heather to look through, “Your room will be over here.” He closed the door and headed to the very last door, closest to the double front doors below.

She leaned over the railing to look at the pattern of their entrance hall tiles. She turned and entered the room where Draco was waiting, “Where’s your room?”

“Third floor stairs,” he yawned.

“Is… Does your father know I’m here?” Heather hated the idea of having to see Mr. Malfoy. After what he put Ginny through, how could she ever not hate his guts. “Will I see him?”

“Not likely if you don’t come down for breakfast. He leaves all day, comes back late, and on weekends he’s in his study,” Draco exited the room, “Your trunk’s behind you.”

The door closed and she was left alone in an exceptionally large room with a bed big enough for Harry, Ron, Hermione, and her to all sleep comfortably. She pushed the trunk down and winced as it banged on the floor a lot louder than she had realized it would. She grit her teeth and turned to the door, half expecting any one of the Malfoys to barge in yelling at her… but nothing happened.

She breathed out and dragged it onto the floral rug at the foot of her bed and opened it, pulling out her pajamas and propping her broom up on the dresser. She closed the curtains to the windows overlooking their driveway and changed out of Dudley’s old polo that she kept tucked into last year’s summer skirt. If there was one thing Pansy was right about, it was that she was absolutely right about Heather lacking any style.

She climbed into bed and gasped at the softness of the covers, the sheets, the pillows… the mattress! “Ohh!” she smiled and snuggled in deeper. Even the Hogwarts beds couldn’t compare to this. “Next time Malfoy complains about Harry getting ANYTHING – ” she punched the air, “He has EVERYTHING.” Way more than he deserved, and way more than Harry gets for being ‘famous Harry Potter’.

She was about to fall asleep when something tapped her window. She groaned and got back out of bed – the day’s events finally manifesting in her muscles and bones – and pulled the curtains back to look at Hedwig twisting her head in all directions to look at her.

She opened the window, “I didn’t mean get him to write me THIS soon…”

Hedwig dropped the letter from her beak and sat on the windowsill.

‘You should have stayed with me, Fudge had it all worked out. He fixed everything. Doesn’t matter now. Sorry I can’t help you, I’m under strict orders not to leave the area for three weeks. I’ll get all your books though! And I’ll buy you an ice cream? Anyways feed Hedwig when you get this, she kept pecking me.’

Now she knew that the guilt of doing something so reckless they could have gotten expelled never set in for him. She felt less bad about fibbing about her stay at Malfoy Manor, and wrote out a quick ‘Ok, see you soon’ reply. She tied it to Hedwig and let her out.

She closed the window and ran back to bed, knowing Draco would be as bad as Marcus tomorrow during training. Actually, worse since he would have to listen to her when it came to the drills she would make him do. She closed her eyes and fell asleep in the softest, comfiest bed she could have ever imagined.

There was a loud pop, like a firecracker had gone off inside a sealed cauldron. Heather sat up quickly and opened her eyes, squinting at the bright sunlight shining through the closed curtains and noticed the silhouette of an elf.

“Dobby?”

“Feeno,” the elf frowned and pointed at the night table with some water and a breakfast plate. “Master Draco is waiting in the back yard.” He waited for her to nod before popping away.

Heather got out of bed and ran to her trunk, taking out her Quidditch uniform and throwing it on quickly, eating some of her breakfast as she tied her shoes and robes with double knots. She grabbed her broom and opened the door, finding Feeno hunched over a stain on the wood, trying to rub it away.

Feeno looked up at her and sighed heavily, “This way.” He led her down the stairs to the entrance hall and through the right-most door. She walked through a wide passageway with only one door in the center and a large brass lock. The elf led her out another door that lead to the outside.

Heather gasped at how large his backyard was, though she would call it a grass field with a garden along the smooth stone fence. She spotted Draco gliding around in the air, doing loops and diving. He spotted her and sped down to meet her halfway.

“Alright, let’s practice, Potter.” He turned to the elf, “Get the case.”

Heather mounted her broom and touched off, “You could say please.”

He rolled his eyes, “I didn’t invite you here so you could nag. My father heard from Pucey’s father that no one had a guaranteed spot on the team. Flint’s looking for a better Seeker,” he took the case from Feeno, opened it and took out the Snitch and Quaffle, “and better Chasers.”

He shoved the Quaffle into her hands and released the Snitch. She couldn’t believe Marcus was looking for whole new members, though it did make sense. She heard every year he picked only the toughest and strongest who tried out, and her and Draco were neither.

“Potter!” Draco snapped his fingers to get her attention, “I wasn’t joking about kicking you out.”

Heather dropped the Quaffle and flew up to him, explaining the drills Marcus had her do to fly evenly under pressure. They trained on that for several hours – Heather playing the part of her brother and enemy Seeker, very impressed with her own skills that almost matched Draco’s – until he was used to the drills. At one point she had picked up a bunch of pebbles and pinecones and instructed Feeno to throw them at Draco randomly trying to distract him.

Heather wiped her forehead and panted, trying to catch her breath, “Can we take a lunch break? It’s almost two and we’ve been training since ten-thirty.”

Draco shrugged off his robe and draped it over his broom. “Lunch,” he snapped his fingers at Feeno. “Let’s go in, Father’s at work and Mother won’t be back until later.”

Heather followed Draco down and into the house. He led her up a different set of stairs to the second floor, past a giant library full of books and two desks with elegant quills, into a dining room. The table was long and the wood shined as bright as the entrance hall tiles.

He pointed at the chair across from him and sat down. Heather pulled out the chair and sat, looking around awkwardly. The only other chairs at the table were the ones on the ends, far away from each other.

“Why are your chairs so far away?” Heather pointed at the two chairs, “Isn’t it hard to talk?”

Draco laughed, “Of course you’d be confused by it, Potter. Let me guess, in your kitchen and have to share elbow space with those Muggles you call ‘family’.”

She scoffed, “At least none of us have to scream to be heard.”

“No one screams – ”

“I was exaggerating.”

He picked up a fork and twirled it on its tips, “Whatever, Potter. Where’s your brother now, anyways. Doesn’t he miss his shadow?”

She bit down on her cheek and shook her head, “What do you care? Miss him already?” She knew better than to give away Harry’s location so easily.

If they had been allowed to use magic, Draco would have hexed her, she could tell by the way his eyes gleamed with anger. Feeno was back and set two plates of sandwiches and soup. The elf poured them juice and stood in the corner, inspecting the doorknob for smudges.

Heather happily took the little sandwich slices and dipped the in the soup, watching as the bread turned soggy and brown as it absorbed the liquid. She liked the spread between the bread and the lettuce, whatever it was. Even the tomato was juicier than the ones from Hogwarts. The Ministry must prioritize quantity over quality for the food at their school or the Malfoys really knew how to pick their produce.

“So,” she dabbed a napkin on her chin, “What do you do for fun here?”

Draco leaned back and scoffed, “At my house?” He looked around with a slightly disgusted look on his face, “There isn’t anything to do. I fly on my broom or study or… Leave. Over the summer’s I hang out with my friends – real friends – ”

Heather rolled her eyes, “You must DO something though. Don’t you? What if no one can come over or no one invites you over?”

Draco slammed his glass down, spilling juice on the table – which Feeno was quick to clean up, muttering his apologies to his master – and scowled, “My friends are ALWAYS available, Potter. Something I’m sure you couldn’t relate to.”

“Why are you so rude! It’s perfectly normal for people to be busy sometimes. I’m just asking what’s fun around here!”

Draco stood up, “I’ll be in my room. FEENO!”

The elf quickly apparated beside Draco, “Sir?”

“You can show her to hers,” he stormed out of the room, flinging the doors so hard the bounced off the wall.

Harry was right, he did act like Dudley sometimes. It was a simple question that did not call for such a heated tantrum. She took a few more sandwiches and followed Feeno back to her room, passing quickly through the library as if she’d suddenly decide to take a book if she lingered for too long. The elf opened her door for her and pointed at her Quidditch robes, then to a large mirror with a glittering frame.

“Don’t get the furniture dirty. Bathroom’s through there.”

Heather forced the doors closed and sighed, “I get it. I stink.”

She dug around her trunk for a nice pair of clothes – the closest she got was an old lazily-sewn shirt that belonged to Petunia last summer – and her old skirt. The shirt fit fine – somewhat – but the skirt was starting to get a little tight around her hips. She’d have to buy a new one soon.

She walked over to the mirror and stared at it for a while. She pulled on the frame but it didn’t budge like the Gryffindor tower door. She looked at herself in the mirror and raised her hand to touch the glass. It felt solid at first, and then like gelatin. She pushed her hand and felt it go through, reminding her of the pool of water on the roof of the cave from last year.

She closed her eyes and stepped through. She opened them and looked around at the quaint little bathroom with a large tub and silver rose candleholders. It wasn’t too bright, like the Dursley’s bathroom, and felt very romantic in nature. She smiled and looked around, making sure she didn’t have to close any windows or lock any doors for privacy, and turned on the tub.

“Worth it,” she jumped in and soon the argument with Draco melted away.

~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~

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