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royallyprincesslilly · 3 years ago

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Title: Hibiscus Kisses {6}

Chris Evans x OFC Ajali Rambaue AU {Ah-Jah-Lee, Ram-Bow}

Warning: Plot, Cursing, Angst, Blood, Lots Of Words, Death

Words: 8.3k

Summary: Ajali decides on a rash decision to go on a Disney cruise, not for her love of Disney, but because she needs time to figure things out after things get even more complicated in her complicated life. She only expected peace, quiet, tropical drinks, and an overabundance of Disney songs. What she got was more than she bargained for when the cruise of a lifetime on the brand new ship Enchantment turned into a nightmare. The only saving grace is that she’s not the only one living through the nightmare. Can Ajali survive the test of a lifetime and the dangers ahead of her, and better yet, will she finally be able to live a little?

Note: Please feel free to tell me what you think. I’m super excited to explore this one with you all. 🤗

As always, thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed this, please LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG! ❤️❤️

I appreciate each and every one of your guys’ support and love!

***VERY Loosely Edited/Proofread***

**Interactive**

Previous Chapters: {1} | {2} | {3} | {4} | {5} |

You must have stood at the back of the yacht for a while because the shore and the docks were barely visible at this point. Every minute that ticked by you weighed your options of just diving in and swimming back. Everything you came up with seemed fine to deal with. So what if your hair got wet and you had to go through your four-hour wash and treat routine. So what if you attracted a shark or two, you could swim. So what if everything in your bag got drenched, you could replace them.

With the number of rebuttals you came up with, you should have jumped in already. The major con that was flashing in your head in neon lettering was you are an adult and not a child who ran away from difficult situations. The sound of laughter had you turning around to see Chris laughing with Harper. He looked like he didn’t have a care in the world. Scoffing, you turned back around and crossed your arms.

Almost a minute later you felt Chris standing beside you. “If you want to swim back I’m sure you could make it.”

If looks could kill, the one you gave him should have done it. All you had to do was push him overboard to a watery grave. Chris lifted his hands to show his no threat status and that was when you walked away.

“All right folks. It’ll be another forty minutes before we arrive at the best fishing spot in all of the islands. It’s my little secret. In the meantime, you have a choice of activities. You can go down below and marine watch, stay on deck and do some pictures and sights, or go into the bubble where you are surrounded by the ocean. It is optimal for fish watching. I’ll let you folks know when we’ve arrived.”

You nodded and walked toward the steps that would lead below deck. You fully intended to get as far away from him as possible. Ignoring the way he turned to you as if he had something to say, you carefully went down the steps and to the back of the yacht. There you found what Harper was referring to. It looked like an actual bubble with two seats. Once you sat down you saw why this was mentioned as the most sought-after experience. You really felt like you were alone under the ocean and not apart from it but one with it.

You watched a school of yellow and black striped fish swim by and a small box popped up to the right of the screen with a still photo of the fish and a few listed facts.

“Moorish Idol fish. These fish commonly inhabit tropical to subtropical reefs and lagoons. These fish usually travel alone or in small schools. These fish mate for life and adult males show aggression to one another.”

Your jaw dropped. You hadn’t expected it to be high-tech. In front of you, you grabbed the flipbook and flicked through it to see a variety of sea creatures. The announcement of another fish brought your attention back to the ocean before you and that is where your eyes remained. Creature after creature swam by and up to the glass. Each one was announced and described. As they came up, you took pictures of the pretty ones you liked ready to show them to your family when you returned home.

You were so wrapped up in fish watching that you didn’t notice that you weren’t alone until it was too late. Chris slipped into the seat beside you, startling you. Your harsh glare landed on him with the force of fifty blades behind it. He wasn’t looking at you though, his eyes were glued to the water and passing reef life.

“Oh wow, Nemo and Dory,” Chris exclaimed inching closer to the glass.

That was all it took for your attention to go right back, and lo and behold there were Dory and Nemo lookalikes.

“Wow.”

Mirroring Chris’s actions you slid to the edge of the seat as well and touched the glass. They were pretty in animation but that had nothing on real life. The orange and blue were so striking up close.

“They’re even best friends in real life,” Chris quietly said.

For the next few minutes neither of you spoke again you were too wrapped up in looking at all the fish that passed by one after the other. When you’d reached a part of the ocean where life was scarce, you sat back and crossed your arms.

“Can I please explain?”

You sighed and dropped your head back to rest on the hard headrest, keeping your eyes trained in front of you.

“I promise I’m not this asshole you have me pegged as in your head.”

“So you don’t go around trying to charm women out of your panties and in your bed for notches on your bedpost?”

“God no!”

You rolled your eyes not believing one word.

“I solemnly swear that I am up to nothing but good,” Chris replied holding up three fingers.

A smirk teased your lips at the Harry Potter line he’d just repurposed for his own use mixed with the Hunger Games salute. You shook your head unable to ignore how adorkably stupid he was.

“You know those two have nothing to do with the other, right?”

Chris slyly smiled and shrugged. “It’s sorta my thing. Sleeping around and I have nothing to do with each other also.”

You snorted and shook your head. He was smooth.

“You’re real smooth, I’ll give you that.”

He sighed and turned his body more to you. “It’s a misunderstanding,” Chris began.

“Let me stop you there. Ninety-nine point nine percent of the time anyone starts off with that, chances are there was no misunderstanding,” you dryly informed.

“That high? Okay, then I fall in the point one percent.”

You glared at him again but he didn’t back down, he held your glare but behind his eyes, you saw nothing but sincerity rather than the hostility you had spearing behind yours. When you didn’t object, he opened his mouth to speak again but you looked away.

“There’s no need.”

“Why won’t you let me explain?”

You knew why. If he explained and the explanation seemed plausible and he looked sincere the chances of you believing it would be eighty percent and that was high. You would then continue spending time with him because you did enjoy his company and conversation and eventually sleep with him. Maybe. Letting him explain was step one that would lead to a series of missteps. Then you’d find yourself in a situation come the end of the cruise when both of you went your separate ways. There were too many what-ifs in the air.

“Ah, I think I know. If you let me explain then this image you have of me being a womanizer who is after fast and quick ass, who would come on a cruise to chase women for a notch would be debunked. If it is debunked, then you’d have to admit that you liked spending time with me and enjoyed yourself. Then you’d have to admit that what might have happened if my phone didn’t ring wouldn’t have been a one-off. You’d have to face the possibility that there might be something here past our physical attraction.”

Well damn, you thought. For a moment your thoughts betrayed the steely animosity in your eyes and you knew your shock shone through. You quickly looked away from him and tapped into your inner Elsa while watching a school of white fish pass by. You could feel him beside you staring at you as if trying to crack your resolve. You fought against him and kept your breathing slow and steady.

“You don’t have to tell me I’m right. I know I am and it’s not because I’m a cocky prick. It’s because—,” Chris paused then sighed heavily before he continued. “I liked spending time—with you. Like really liked it and this was before anything physical happened. You’re funny and fun and not phased by this thing called fame that is wrapped around me. You probably don’t understand it, but that’s something refreshing and attractive to me.”

Unable to resist any longer, you sneakily glanced at him while wondering if any part of what he’d just said was possibly true.

“Before I came on this cruise to get away from my life—run away from my life.”

Your interest piqued. Why was he running away? Didn’t he have everything?

“My friend, the one you heard on the phone was teasing me about the reason. I didn’t want to give him the real deal so I kept quiet which led him to the conclusion that it had something to do with a woman. It didn’t but he thought it. So the phone call was him stating his opinions again, his way of life. Now I’m not condoning what he said at all but that’s his life. I didn’t come here for any of that and that night wasn’t about that for me.”

“What was it about?”

You blurted the question without a thought and once you’d asked, you regretted it. The answer wouldn’t do you any good.

Sighing, you looked back out to the water. “Don’t answer that.”

And he didn’t. The silence stretched and your thoughts did as well. You contemplated his explanation and the probability of any of it being true. He had all the reason to lie right now, but the more you thought about it the more you guessed he didn’t need to lie being who he was. He could have just shrugged and put you on the side that wasn’t a fan of his and kept it moving.

“Look,” Chris said shoving his phone to you with the text exchange between him and someone named Austin was visible.

“I know what it is to be distrustful of strangers or everyone really and proof means a lot to me. Since the burden of proof is on my side, here it is.”

You read through the exchange from a little over a week ago and sure enough, his friend Austin was scum. The irrefutable proof showed those sentiments were his and even showed Chris admonishing him for those sentiments and setting him straight. The banter that continued was Austin teasing him about his good boy behaviors. From the texts, you could tell they were close, and you could also tell that Austin was the asshole between them and Chris was possibly a good guy.

Groaning, you looked away and dropped your head back to the headrest again. You did not need this. Sighing, you closed your eyes and listened to the silence. Several minutes passed by where neither of you spoke and just when you were going to Harper’s voice came in over the ship’s intercoms.

“We have some dolphin action up here if anyone’s interested.”

“Dolphins!”

Your head snapped to Chris hearing the uncharacteristically excited squeal. Did he really just turn into a Powerpuff girl? Chris leapt to his feet and began walking toward the steps leaving you there to wonder just what kind of man he was.

A few moments later, you emerged from below and walked to the railing to see a dolphin jump out of the water in the distance.

“Oh my god!”

At that moment you felt your smallness in the world. There were so many other creatures that were bigger and yet humans always thought themselves so superior. It was baffling.

“It’s not always like this, they must be here to greet you folks,” Harper said as another jumped out and one swam up.

You dropped down to your knees and peered over the railing and marveled at the aquatic beauty.

“They’re so friendly.”

Just then, a dolphin popped up showing its long bottlenose and black eyes and in the same breath, a stream of water came at you drenching you. In your shock, you just sat there while Chris and Harper heartily got their laugh in at your expense. To add insult to injury the dolphin even sounded like it was laughing. Who could be mad though? It was too cute. You looked across the way and saw Chris snapping pictures of you with a wide smile on his face. Being alarmed, snapping at him, or even telling him to delete the pictures would have all been acceptable reactions but you didn’t react in any of those ways. Instead, you brought your attention back to the dolphins in the water. Let him take his pictures, you thought.

Twenty minutes later you were sitting at the side of the boat with your legs dangling over the edge enjoying the breeze, sun, and tranquility being on the ocean brought. There was something so serene about being in the middle of a giant body of water with creatures of plenty underneath its depths while there was nothing in sight for miles and miles. It was peaceful. The pictures you took of the horizon, the sky, and the water were breathtaking. You knew they’d make great printouts to add to your walls when you returned home. When you realized your battery was running low, you dug into your bag for one of your four fully charged portable chargers and slipped your phone into one of the many waterproof pouches you had your belongings secured inside.

Your sister liked to make fun of you for how well you prepared for things. When you went out for every day, your purse contained every possible thing you would and could need for the day. You didn’t like being unprepared for whatever you came across and that included something as minor as rain all the way to the major things like abductions. You’d been the butt of many jokes but you didn’t care.

Glancing to the other side of the yacht, you watched as Chris followed the instruction of Harper as he practiced a variety of sailor’s knots. It didn’t look like he was a novice though. You could tell he’d done it a few times before. Sooner than you could look away, Harper caught you then motioned you over. It would have been rude to ignore him, so you walked over to them and sat before them.

“Here, try your hand at sailor’s knots,” Chris suggested holding out a length of rope to you.

“It’s not as easy as it looks,” he followed up as you took it.

“You look like you’ve done it before.”

“Once or twice,” he replied.

You studied the knots surrounding Chris for a few moments then took a stab at it. From the beginning you messed it up but didn’t quit, instead, you undid it and tried again. You didn’t quit easy. That was probably why you were in your current relationship predicament. A few minutes and several failed attempts later, you held up the finished product that looked identical to Chris’s.

“So you have one of those brains where you can see something and replicate it?”

You scoffed and shrugged. “Kind of. I just pick some things up quickly.”

Chris nodded and held out another length of rope and pointed to a different pattern. “Try this one.”

You knew it was a test. You grabbed the rope and studied the new pattern that was a lot more intricate than the first. Though it was more intricate it took you a shorter amount of time to start. When you held it up for them to see, less time had passed and you hadn’t made one mistake.

“Wow,” Harper exclaimed before he chuckled.

“What can I say, I’m pretty amazing,” you joked.

Both men laughed but didn’t debate the fact.

“We’re coming up on the cove that gives me the best fish. Of course, we’re catching and releasing, but it won’t dampen the experience,” Harper informed.

Within a few short minutes, Harper had pulled up to one of the most beautiful coves you’d ever seen. The water was aquamarine crystal blue. It was so crystal like you could see several feet into it. The giant rocks that created a maze had moss growing off the tops of them that were lush green and created a nice contrast of colors. If you could have picked up this view and brought it home with you, you would have. It was that breathtaking.

You weren’t the only one thinking it, Chris was a few feet away snapping every picture he could get, only he didn’t look like a tourist. He looked like a professional travel photographer. When he dropped to one of his knees to get a different angle you just leaned against the railing and watched. The sun beaming down on him gave his hair a reddish hue which looked good on him. It even accentuated the freckles peppered along his arms. You remembered what was under that shirt of his at that second. You remembered the muscles, the hair, and the tats. It was an unexpected sight but one that you wouldn’t mind seeing again. Instantly you kissed your teeth and slapped your forehead.

“Cut it out.”

“Did you say something?”

Chris was looking at you with a quizzical expression with his camera still posed up.

“Nope, nothing.”

He didn’t look like he believed you, but slowly he went back to snapping his pictures while you tried to create even more distance between you.

“Get a grip, Ajali. It hasn’t been that long. You’re not affection starved either. Get—a—grip.”

You took a few slow breathes and focused on the scene before you. You now understood why many people said this island was a top destination for vacations.

“And we’re ready. You both said you’ve fished before, right?”

You walked toward Harper’s voice then saw he had fishing rods, buckets, gloves, and all the other supplies lying at his feet.

“I’ve done some fishing,” Chris offered before both sets of eyes landed on you.

“Never.”

“It’s not hard, I promise,” Harper assured bending for the rods. He held one out to Chris and the other to you.

“Thank you.”

“I’ll explain everything and its function. If either of you have any questions let me know.”

Harper walked a few feet away leading the two of you to a shaded portion of the yacht. Once there, he explained everything in detail. He showed the parts of the rod, showed how to put things together, explained their function, and then went on to the different kinds of bait that were available. When he began demonstrating how to hold the rod and posture you paid close attention and imitated what he did. You knew though this was something that would take some getting used to.

After twenty minutes, the three of you were in your spots ready to cast your rods. You watched Harper cast his first and it looked so fluid. You could tell he’d done this thousand of times. Then you watched Chris and though his movements weren’t as fluid, it looked like he was far from a beginner. You sighed and tried your best. The rod was heavy in your hands and affected your ability to control it and cast it perfectly. Glancing at Harper, he shrugged.

“Good enough. You got it where it needs to go.”

A soft chuckle escaped both you and Chris.

“What kind of catch do you get out here?”

Harper proceeded to explain the different kinds of fish he’d caught to Chris while you partially zoned them out. It didn’t take long for you to understand why people liked fishing. It was calming. You could leisurely do it while letting your mind drift and worries float away. Thirty minutes later it was your line that tugged first. You yelped then squeaked as you panicked.

“What do I do?”

“Reel it in,” Harper said.

The resistance on the line was giving you a good arm workout. The struggle went back and forth. You doubted this was a baby.

“This thing is strong.”

“You got it, put your back into it like Ice Cube,” Chris teased making you narrow your eyes at him. That only made him laugh loudly.

A few more moments of struggle persisted until you’d yanked the rod backward tucking it out of the water, over your head, and flopping the fish right on the deck.

“Aaaah, oh my god! I caught a fish!”

You jumped up and down excited by your success. Forgetting any prior slights you jumped closer to Chris and bumped shoulders with him.

“I did it!”

“You did.”

“Good job. This here is a Barracuda,” Harper announced.

“Ooooh Barracuda,” you and Chris said in unison like the song. The two of you giggled together before returning your attention to Harper.

“It’s not an adult, but it’s no baby either. You want a picture?”

“Yes!”

You scurried to your bag and pulled out your phone then handed it to Chris before you dropped down to your knees and bent to the fish still flopping on the deck and smiled as you’d just won the lotto. Chris laughed and took the picture a few moments later. After the first few shots, you changed poses and let him take a few more. You watched as Chris’s face went from wide smiles to solemn confusion. Just as you were going to ask if your battery died, Harper spoke.

“Do you want to do the honors of releasing it?”

“You mean touch it?”

Harper nodded and you ardently shook your head. “No thank you. I hear Barracudas like to bite.”

Harper laughed at you as he effortlessly grabbed the fish by its tail then chucked it back into the ocean.

“It was just an adolescent.”

Chris held your phone out then walked back to his rod without a word. Slight confusion washed over you as you glanced at your screen to see one of the pictures he’d just taken, but your battery was fully charged.

For the next few hours Chris barely spoke to you, but when you glanced over to him, his eyes were always on you before he looked away once yours met his. It was a complete turnaround from before. It shouldn’t have bothered or affect you at all considering the reality of things, but it did bother you a little bit. Once the three of you had had your fill of catch and release the sun was beginning to disappear. Harper caught a huge Mahi Mahi, scaled and fillet it right in front of you, and Chris showing off his impressive knife skills. He then took the fish to prepare what he promised would be the best open ocean fish you’d ever had. You were excited to see the finished product.

Once Harper had disappeared down below you walked to the cooler, took out two beers, and walked over to Chris. He was sitting toward the back of the yacht watching the rocks in silence. You sat beside him, held out the beer, and waited for him to accept it. When he took it, he wasted no time twisting off the top and taking a mouthful. You sat there in silence looking over the view.

“Who knew a celebrity could fish.”

“I’m not a celebrity all day every day. I have hobbies and free time.”

“I take it fishing is a hobby?”

“When I can get to it. Sometimes I can’t go off the grid to do it.”

You nodded and tried to picture him at a lake with a rod and bucket of bait catching fish. A soft smile spread across your face before you gulped your beer.

“What’s one of your hobbies?”

Taking a deep breath you slowly released it. “Painting.”

“You’re artistic?”

“Depends what you call artistic. I can slap some paint on a canvas and call it a day.”

Chris looked at you for a few moments. “Somehow I find it hard to believe it’s as lowkey as you’re describing. I bet you’re a modern-day Frida Kahlo.”

You smiled and shrugged. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

Silence spread between you again and the two of you sipped from your bottles. It was a semi-comfortable silence.

“Are you departing tomorrow or staying on?”

You wanted to ask why he wanted to know but decided against it. “Staying on.”

Chris nodded. “Me too.”

Neither of you spoke again, instead, you watched the sky as the sun slowly began its descent behind the water. When Harper returned, the air filled with such a delicious scent that your belly grumbled loudly.

“And dinner is served. Harper placed the platter down on the table and you and Chris walked over to it. Your jaw dropped in amazement.

“What kind of kitchen do you have down there that can produce that?”

“I’ve had tons of practice.”

The Mahi Mahi that was alive less than two hours ago was now cooked to perfection and decorated with papaya, and a green salad.

“Wow, this looks mouthwatering,” Chris complimented.

“It’s nothing fancy, just some fish with a papaya and seaweed salad.”

“Seaweed salad? Oh wow. You utilize everything huh.”

“Absolutely. I can tell you more about using everything you can to not only survive but make good food,” Harper said motioning you both to sit down.

“No one is serving you here, help yourselves there’s plenty.”

The three of you dug in taking portions of fish and salad. When you took a bite of the Mahi Mahi your eyes rolled to the back of your head. “Oh my god. This is so good.”

“All it needed was some salt, pepper, and lemon. Sometimes keeping it simple is the best way.”

Chris moaned and nodded in agreement with you. “Delicious.”

As the three of you ate, Harper told you all about his travels and time living on his own on the ocean and how he’d learned to survive on little to nothing. It was so interesting to hear his story. From it, you gathered he was determined, creative, meticulous, and persevering. He didn’t let anything stop him and because of that mindset, he said he’d seen a lot of wonderful things and had a beautiful life. Listening to him speak about his loves and losses and how it was just him in the end you couldn’t help but think about your relationships.

When he began listing off the life lessons he’d learned you made note of each and every one of them. You always thought the stories of the older generations were interesting. While most of their experiences were relatable, a lot of it wasn’t because of the difference in eras. In Harper’s era being a bachelor past twenty-two was seen as taboo, yet that was the life he lived. When he spoke of when he did get married, it was to the one woman he’d loved since he was twenty years old. The woman he’d been stupid about and missed out on two times. From the way he spoke about her, you knew she was his soul mate.

Glancing to Chris who was sitting diagonally from you, part of you wondered how relatable Harper’s experiences were to him. You thought back to the very few tabloid and gossip stories you’d read about him but nothing jumped out to you. The tabloids didn’t focus on one woman that he was possibly seeing, they didn’t highlight any crazy behaviors with any of them or even highlight breakups. That was part of how you’d pieced him together. The lack of information left for such a wide breadth of possibilities to put together.

“Take it from me young ones, when you’re walking down a dimly lit street of soft lights, and you happen to find that anomaly among the sea that shines a different light and makes everything else pale in comparison you do whatever it takes to hold on to that. You fight for it and don’t let anything or anyone make you miss out on it. None of us are here for a long time. One day I’ll join my Angie and we’ll be together again. I welcome that day, until then I’ll keep drifting.”

The three of you sat there in silence, each of you lost in your thoughts and worries. Was Javii that anomaly or was he part of the sea and you’d been mistaken this whole time? When Harper returned to the helm to captain you back toward land you were secluded from the rest of them and still lost in your thoughts. It had been days since you left and you’d figured out nothing. If anything, you’d added more to your plate to think about. This was what you hadn’t wanted to do and that was the reason you chose this option rather than staying in the city.

You began to wonder again about the person who would be that anomaly that Harper spoke of. Rather than thinking of your experiences with Javii, your irresponsible mind thought of your run-ins with Chris. When you’d seen him in passing before boarding the ship you’d noticed him in the sea of people and amidst every chaotic thing happening around you. Your brain singled him out. It did it again when you saw him in passing topside when you’d met Genevieve and in the lounge club. It was something you hadn’t focused on before but now it was all you could think of.

“Get a freaking grip, Ajali!”

You smacked your head and dropped it down hunching over to hug your shins. Suddenly, you felt raindrops and those drops quickly turned into a waterfall.

“What the--,” you began holding your hands out confused how a downpour like this could just suddenly start.

Unexpectedly, the ship lurched hard to the left sending items on the deck toppling over including your beer bottle and the empty ones around it. Thinking quickly, you grabbed the railing to not tumble. Your grip was precarious thanks to the downpour and you knew you wouldn’t be able to hold on for long. Just as you were losing your grip, that was when the ship lurched again only this time to the right. With no time to grab for the railing, you tumbled over but before you hit the deck arms wrapped around you stabilizing you.

“I got you.”

Glancing up, you found Chris with rainwater pouring down his face and beard. He was holding on tightly to one of the metal poles while holding you tightly in his other arm. When the rocking went from deadly to manageable, Chris slowly let you go.

“Something must be wrong. Let’s go.”

Both of you took off on the search to find Harper. Every few seconds the rocking of the ship made items fall and roll. Chris was the one to pull you in every which direction to help you avoid the bigger items. When the ship bucked back you both slid back.

“Aaah, fuck!”

A sharp slice caught you off guard making you fall to the deck. Before Chris could react the boat rocked again sending you rolling back a few feet. When you slammed into one of the walls you shouted out in pain. Seconds later Chris was bent before you.

“Are you okay?”

His eyes quickly scanned your body and found your bleeding foot.

“Oh god.

Chris quickly pulled off his tropical printed shirt, ripped it, and began wrapping your foot.

“I’m sorry I have to do this tight to hopefully slow the bleeding,” Chris informed before he yanked the material, knotting it tightly around your injury. You tried to stifle your groan but it didn’t work. Your shout echoed across the open water and carried it competing with the downpour from the sky.

“I’m sorry. Ready to keep going? We’re almost there.”

You nodded and let Chris help you up. With his arm around your waist and yours draped over his shoulder the two of you hurried to the small enclosure where Harper was steering the boat. Every so often thanks to the falling and rolling items you and Chris looked like circus performers, jumping, dodging, and sliding out of harm's way. The way Chris managed to go into protector and alpha mode had you seeing a new side to him. Women did love a man who could take charge.

When you finally made it you found Harper passed out on the floor.

“Oh my god!”

Chris placed you along one of the windows so you could lean against it before he dropped down to his knees to check for a pulse. The longer it took him to turn to you, the more anxious you became.

“He has a pulse, but it’s thready. Looks like he may have hit his head,” Chris informed before he ripped the while men’s tank he wore at the hem and pressed it to Harper’s forehead.

On impact, Harper groaned then bolted up.

“Hey, take it easy,” Chris shouted trying to compete with the loudness of the ocean and the rain.

“No. Storm. We’re in a storm. We call these pop-ups. They happen all the time,” Harper explained as Chris helped him to his feet.

“If you knew it was coming--,” you began.

“I didn’t. No one can predict these and they’re increasingly more dangerous.”

The yacht whipped as if it were a leash sending all three of you knocking into whatever was closest. Immediately the pain that whisked through you had you screaming. That was the first time you thought you were going to die. All you could feel was pain, all you could hear was the sound of your heart beating. You slowly opened your eyes but couldn’t make anything out through the haziness. You couldn’t pinpoint where the pain in your body was coming from, it felt like it was everywhere.

“Ajali!”

Snapping your eyes open you saw Chris’s drenched and concerned face before you. “Open your eyes. Stay with me!”

It was a forceful command. One that you slowly obeyed. He helped you to a sitting position then turned back to Harper who was trying to stand to look over the built-in equipment of the ship.

“We’re way off course here. Somehow this storm has put us way off route. It makes no sense.”

“What does that mean?!”

“It means we’re drifting and not towards the islands. We’re drifting away.”

“What!”

Harper tried to turn the key for the engine but it stalled then sputtered. He tried it again and again but the result was the same.

“This is bad,” Harper added.

“What do we do?”

The ship rocked again but this tilt was so drastically different. It actually went so far on its side that it felt like you were going to capsize.

“We’re gonna tip over!”

Chris ran from the small room fighting against gravity’s pull to yank him over. Your first thought was he was leaving you.

“Hang on tight!”

Your scream was so loud you doubt you’d ever gone that high before. Terror gripped your heart and your entire life flashed before your eyes. You were certain you were done for. There was no way to make it out of this. You began mumbling but you didn’t know if what you said made any sense. A few seconds later, the ship dropped back into the water allowing you to remain top side up. You felt hands on your body and you opened your eyes to Chris shoving your arms in a bright orange life vest.

“I could only find one right now so it’s yours.”

“What—what about you?”

“I’ll be fine. Hold on tight.”

He spun around looking at Harper.

“I have to get below.”

Harper hurried out without another word and Chris turned back to you.

“I’m going to help him. Stay here.”

He made a move to leave and you grabbed his hand pulling him back to you.

“Don’t leave me.”

“I’m not. I’m going below with Harper. I’m sure he’ll need my help. I think it’s safer for you up here.”

You still held tight to his hand fear controlling your movements. Chris’s expression softened before he took a step close to you to hold you at the side of your neck to the base of your skull.

“I swear to you I won’t leave you, no matter what. We’re in this together. I will be back and we’ll laugh about this one day. For that day to come though we have to get through this and I have to help him down below. You’ll be safe. Hold on tight, stay low.”

You nodded and took a few breathes trying to psych yourself up.

“You got this,” Chris said before he pulled away and walked from you.

You closed your eyes and said a silent prayer hoping for him to come back and that his words weren’t bullshit.

The seconds seemed to slowly tick by and the minutes went on for lifetimes. Every jolt of the ship leveled you to a whimpering mess. You did just as Chris has instructed—kept low and held on for dear life. You didn’t care how numb your hand became from gripping the cold metal for so long you kept holding on. You didn’t care how cold you got from not only the ocean water but the rain and the strong wind gusts, you remained in your corner shivering refusing to come out. It didn’t matter how much the pain you felt intensified the colder you got you ignored it and kept whispering your silent prayers. You didn’t want to die. Not like this.

You heard something like a loud crack then the groaning of metal then the ship once again tilted. You screeched and tried to hold yourself to the railing but the further the boat tilted the harder it was to hold on.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

You screamed again and braced yourself to end up in the water under the boat, but instead of it tipping it once again dropped back onto the water’s surface.

“Oh my god!”

“Ajali, can you hear me?”

You whipped your head around trying to find where the voice was coming from without letting go of the railing. You were too scared.

“Ajali. Can you hear me!”

On the dashboard, you saw a red light flashing and guessed it was the radio. The only problem was for you to get to it, you’d have to let go and walk over to it. If the yacht tilted again you’d slid your ass out the room and off the boat. It was a risk.

“Ajali, pick up. We’re down here trying to fix the engine but we need you to turn her on for us. Can you do that?”

“Fuck!”

You slowly stood, fighting against your aching joints, bones, and muscles, and stood upright with most of your weight on your uninjured foot. You assessed the distance from where you were to the dashboard and knew slow and steady was the best way but you doubted you had that time. You took a deep breath and took three hops on your good foot toward the dashboard. When there was just one hop left to take the vessel rocked sending you off balance and smack dab into the glass with your face.

At this point, there was no part of your body that wasn’t in pain. A metallic irony taste filled your mouth and you knew you were bleeding. You had no idea from where though, your face was completely numb.

“Ajali!?”

Using the back of one hand, you wiped across your mouth and took another deep breath, and hopped to the dashboard throwing yourself across it and holding it for dear life. You took a few moments to calm yourself then grabbed the walkie.

“I’m here.”

You heard Chris exhale as if he was relieved. “Thank god, I thought something happened.”

“I’m fine,” you lied while trying to wipe away the blood that dripped across the dashboard.

“Try to turn the engine on.”

You twisted the designated key all that happened was a long exaggerated sputter then hiss.

“This time keep it turned don’t release it,” Chris suggested.

Doing as you were told, you waited and begged the engine to cooperate. When you heard a yell over the walkie you knew it wasn’t good.

“Damn it! There’s water in the engine. The only way to even begin to work on it is for it to dry out. That’s gonna be impossible during a storm. It’ll just keep flooding. We’re not moving. Damn it!”

There was a full range of banging over the walkie that only made you panic more.

“Can everyone not fall apart right now? Please. I’m terrified enough as it is,” you pleaded.

“Listen to my voice, it’s okay. We’re coming back up. We just have to weather the storm,” Chris said. His voice sounded like he was panicking but was also trying to showcase calm. You heard both.

Another loud crack echoed but it wasn’t on your end, it was over the walkie.

“What was that?”

The sound rang out again and everything went dead silent over the walkie before a loud crash of something breaking echoed out. At that moment the ship lurched again only this time the groan of metal was so loud it made you shake from fear. Garbled speech went in and out over the walkie alarming you.

“He—hello?”

The only response you got was the walkie dying.

“Hello? Hello?” You pressed buttons and turned switches not knowing what any of them did but hoping one of them brought communication back. Nothing helped though.

“Chris! Hello? Chris! Answer me goddamn it!”

You threw the corded walkie and dropped your head down and wailed. There was no hope at all you thought.

“I’m gonna die.”

You cried, finally letting out the angst and terror you were feeling. There was nothing positive about your current situation. You were in the middle of the ocean, practically alone while a storm was raging around you. people went missing like this, people died like this. You were suddenly so tired. A wave of water brushed against your feet but you didn’t think anything of it. You almost couldn’t lift your head.

“Ajali!”

As you lifted your head you saw Chris racing toward you.

“We have to get off this ship.”

“What!”

“The glass broke. We’re taking in water and sinking—fast!”

Hearing those words you found the energy to rise. “What do we do? Where’s Harper?”

“He’s lowering the life raft. Let’s go.”

Chris wrapped his arm around your waist and helped you along. When you made it down the steps to the deck you saw that it was completely filled with water.

“Oh my god.”

“It’s all right, I have you.”

He must have gotten tired of your hobbling because he scooped you up and hurried along treading through the now calf-level water.

“You’re freezing cold,” Chris mumbled.

“What are we gonna do?”

Chris reached Harper who looked as if he’d been through hell. From one glance you could tell he was hurt.

“Climb down first,” Harper said to you as Chris put you down.

You flinched as the saltwater wreaked devastation on your injured foot.

“I’m scared.”

“I know. it’s expected, you’re human. I need you to work through that fear though and climb down into the raft,” Chris reasoned.

You nodded and tried to get over not only the terror but also will your muscles to move through them being near frozen. You tried to move your legs in some coordination to climb over the railing but it was taking a bit of time on your own. Chris stepped closer and helped you to take the first step down the ladder. When your injured foot joined your other one it slipped and sent you down a few of them only stopping when you were able to get a grip on the metal.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m okay.”

You slowly went down the remaining steps until you got to the last one and saw you’d need to jump off the railing to land in the raft. You took a few breathes, hoped that you made it in the raft and not in the ocean, and jumped. Landing on your back you couldn’t relax. It hit you that you were now in a life raft about to drift to god knows where. From above you heard the two men arguing back and forth over who should go next. When you saw Chris was the one climbing down the ladder you knew Harper had won.

It didn’t take him nearly as long as it took you. A few seconds later he’d jumped in next to you. The strong scent of gas immediately hit you.

“You smell like gas.”

Chris smelled himself then his eyes widened and pointed back to the ship. The two of you looked up just in time to see Harper bringing back up the ladder.

“What’re you doing? Come down!”

“No can do brother. This here is my ship and a captain always goes down with his ship.”

Your eyes widened in horror. He couldn’t be serious.

“That’s not funny Harper. The gas is leaking, there is no saving it. It isn’t worth your life. Come on, there’s time for you to save yourself too,” Chris rebutted.

“I’m long past saving,” Harper said lifting his shirt to show the large shard of glass that was sticking through his abdomen. It looked like it had gone right through him. You knew that if it were removed the chances of him living were zilch.

“Oh my god,” you mewled before clamping your hand over your mouth to stifle the wail that followed.

“Harper--,” Chris began but never finished.

“I always knew I’d die on this ship and that’s all right. I’m at peace with it. If I get in that raft with you I’d be doing you a disservice. Sharks would be on your tail in no time.”

Harper flung a pack over the railing into the raft.

“I’ve already pre-packed all the emergency packs in the raft. They’re in the side compartments as well as underneath the zipped platform of the bottom. These are things you’ll need wherever you wash up.”

Another bag followed the first and landed on the raft. “This one is some rations. Remember to conserve the water. You can survive without food longer than water.”

You cried louder while using your hand to muffle as much of the sound as you could.

“Come on man,” Chris pleaded.

Four more bags followed including your backpack. By then you’d fully lost it and had ventured into a nervous breakdown.

“Inside the raft, there is a transponder. I am going to set off the homing beacon on my ship it’ll give search and rescue some idea of where things went wrong. They’ll be able to follow the signal and rescue you no matter where you are.”

Harper bent forward and groaned. He must have been in so much pain you thought to yourself. On its own, your hand gripped the ripped hem of Chris’s tank and held it tightly. Chris glanced back at you and you saw the same anguish you felt.

“I’m sorry about this folks, I really am.” He paused and shook his head before he continued. “You have each other though.”

An explosion shook the vessel and lit up the sky behind Harper.

“That’s my cue. Get outta here. I’ll do my part. Remember live your way, it makes death a peaceful conclusion.”

With that Harper hobbled away holding the railing.

“Go!”

He disappeared from view leaving the two of you sitting in the raft, in the pouring rain heartbroken and terrified. Another explosion erupted and Chris sprang into motion yanking the cord that controlled the motor startup. He yanked it once, then twice until it sparked alive on the third try. You both looked to the ship unsure what to do. The decision had been made for you, there was nothing either of you could do but go.

Slowly the raft began to drift away from the sinking ship and neither of you could peel your eyes away. Two more explosions boomed and then Harper’s voice echoed out.

“I’m coming, Angie!”

“Oh my god,” you whispered dropping your head to the surface of the raft. Your cry was loud and showcased the tragic sadness before you.

You watched on before another and final grand explosion ripped the ship apart sending parts every which way.

“Fuck!”

Chris leapt for you throwing his body over yours using himself as a shield to protect you. The sound of flying metal around you only made you scream more and more. Still, Chris didn’t come off of you, he kept his body over yours while maneuvering the rod steering of the raft. After the sound of flying metal subsided and the warmth of fire died down Chris rolled off of you. There was nothing to be seen except the fire from the explosion that was quickly being extinguished as the rest of the ship sank to the depths of the ocean.

“Oh my god, Harper.”

“God,” Chris groaned out, dropping his head down. “Rest in peace.”

There it was. Death. It was staring you right in the face and you feared it hadn’t had its fill quite yet. Your sobs returned and soon they were the only sounds traveling across the water, along with the motor. Neither of you spoke for a few minutes as you both tried to digest everything that had just happened and how everything had gone so wrong.

“What’re we going to do?”

It was a question asked just above a whisper. A question that held so much uncertainty, a question that also brought so much fear with it. What were you going to do?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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startanewdream · 4 years ago

Text

Do you know when there is something you are really happy of how it turned out but you also know that you'll never finish it? So a while ago I tried to write a fic about Harry realizing a little bit sooner that he fancied Ginny and Ginny not dating Dean at the beginning of HBP. All because, really, I wanted to give them more time together and allow Harry to be more of a teenager in love.

Well, I won't finish this, but it's too long to sit unread on my desktop, so I hope you enjoy those little moments of Hinny that could have been, with a strangely romantic Harry.

The moment that Ginny walks away from him, after telling she promised to meet her friends on the Hogwarts Express, Harry feels a strange twinge of annoyance. He watches her go, her long hair dancing behind her in a way that seems to reflect all the sunlight and he thinks he has become so used to her presence over the summer that he hadn’t stopped to think she usually did not hang out with him while at school.

He wishes he’d asked her sooner to sit with him.

It’s only when he is walking along the train with Neville and Luna, and he sees Cho Chang darting hurriedly into her compartment to avoid him, that he realizes this is not the first time he has wished he’d invited someone sooner. A shiver goes through his spine as he realizes the implications.

It’s not as if he feels for Ginny as he felt for Cho, he reasons silently. When he was near Cho, he was always nervous, like if there was a hole in his chest that was threatening to engulf him.

When he thinks of Ginny, he doesn’t feel nervous, he doesn’t feel like he is missing anything. If he thinks of Ginny in those last weeks of the summer, he remembers her being brighter than the summer sun. She is lively and fiery, and Harry had enjoyed her company, had shared her jokes, had made her laugh as much as she had made him laugh. After everything that happened – after Sirius – it had been nice to feel light and Ginny had helped him.

He feels peaceful and complete around her, which Harry tells himself it is perfectly reasonable. She is his friend after all, and if he considers Ron as his brother, then she would be like his sister, like Hermione.

Except now that Harry’s mind is grasping the effects of Ginny Weasley on his life, he realizes he doesn’t really think of her as his sister, no way. He remembers watching her imitating Fleur, her long red hair dancing around her in a way that seemed more entrancing than any veela power Harry ever met; he remembers when they got caught in the summer rain and the way her clothes were glued to her body and he had hastily looked away, feeling so embarrassed at how his stupid teenage body was reacting to that vision.

But now Harry doesn’t think it was just a normal teenage reaction. He thinks about how it would be if he were in the same situation with Hermione and the thought is unappealing just because he doesn’t really see her as anything but his friend.

It’s not the same with Ginny.

He thinks about her smile, about her long red hair, about the curves of her body he’d noticed even though he tried not to and about the freckles on her face that he was once strangely attempted to count.

He feels attracted to her.

That realization comes at the same moment that Ron enters their compartment and Harry feels suddenly guilty; Ron trusts him. He remembers hearing to Fred and George teasing her about her previous boyfriend and how her brothers are so protective of her; Ron would hate him if he knew Harry was –

What? Harry doesn’t know what he is feeling. Somehow this makes him feel less guilty. So he thinks Ginny is pretty. That’s reasonable, anyone with eyes could see she’s beautiful. So he misses her presence; that’s also fair, considering how much time they spent together over the summer.

That doesn’t mean anything, he tells himself when he attends the invitation of Slughorn and his heart skips when he sees that Ginny is already there.

It’s just a silly attraction, he insists, when his fists close after hearing Blaise Zabini commenting on how good-looking she is.

Oh, I'm screwed, he admits when Hermione is explaining how Amortentia works and Harry knows exactly whose perfume he is smelling in the potion.

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

So he has a crush on Ginny Weasley.

That’s okay, Harry tells himself, I can manage it.

Except he is really horrible at pretending he doesn’t care for her. Harry knows this is stupid; it’s not like those feelings developed overnight, he probably was falling for her during the summer, but somehow realizing these feelings exist have made him flustered around her.

He nearly drools during trials when she flies perfectly and outflows all the competition, thinking that her flying is better than any dance he’d ever seen.

He sighs watching her play with her pigmy puff, and he looks around hoping that no one saw it.

Still, he can’t help but keep stealing glances at her in the Common Room, careful only to avoid Hermione’s increasingly knowing looks, and he realizes that maybe he should stop pretending he doesn’t have feelings for Ginny when he sees her talking to a boy from her year.

They could be just friends, for all Harry knows, but that’s when he understands that if he doesn’t do anything, someone will ask her out and eventually she will say yes.

He remembers how she teased a while ago that she was going out with Dean Thomas just to pest Ron and he feels suddenly happy that Dean is not on the Quidditch Team, that he doesn’t spend much time with her. He’d heard Dean and Seamus talking in low voices about her in their dormitory when Ron is not around, and he knows Dean still fancies her.

Sometimes Harry looks at Ginny and wonders what she would say if he asks her out. He remembers Hermione telling them that Ginny used to like him but she gave up on him ages ago. Indeed, now she treats him with so much friendship that Harry wonders if she will just be offended with his invitation. That fear burns inside him, but he cannot help himself from walking back with her from training – even if Ron’s there most of the time – and he doesn’t really think when he volunteers to help her with some spells for extra points in Defense Against the Dark Arts.

Harry soon finds out it was a terrible wonderful idea to spend a few hours with her on Friday night, just the two of them, in a closed classroom. His heart is beating faster as he watches her dodge his spells and he knows it’s not adrenaline from the duel. It’s her, it’s always her.

She is strong, he realizes, when Ginny looks fiercely as she fights him, her eyes blazing with determination and she deflects spell after spell he throws in her direction. She is gorgeous, he notices shamelessly, when her face is red and sweaty from their duel, and she is beaming at him at the end of their duel.

‘You are amazing’, he says and if his eyes are shining he thinks it could be explained by the fact that she really was very good.

But what he can’t explain is how much the energy he was spending on their duel is still running through his vein, filling him with heat and desire for her, desire to do something, anything. He wonders what she would say if he suddenly acted in his urges and just kissed her – he wonders if she would hex him if he pushed her against the wall, and his lips captured hers, his body pressed against hers, feeling her curves, their hands desperate, hearing her moan into his kiss –

‘Thanks’, she says, breaking his imagination. Harry nods, avoiding looking at her. The images are still very clear in his head and he’s glad he’s wearing a cloak. It’s much easier to hide the effects of his imagination this way. ‘I thought you were going easy on me at first’.

It’s the teasing in her voice that makes Harry turns towards her and he almost regrets it. She is still breathing hard, sweat shining on her neck, and Harry’s eyes are drawn to her neckline and then lower seeing her chest going up and down and suddenly the room becomes even hotter.

It takes real effort to look her in the eyes.

‘I would never’, he promises. ‘You’d hex me if I did’.

She giggles and Harry pretends that innocent sound doesn’t fill his chest with longing.

‘Let’s go? I need a bath after this’, she says and Harry considers seriously that she has to know the effect her comment makes on him. His imagination has been working overtime lately.

‘I need too’, he whispers more to himself than her. He doubts she needs a cold shower as much as he does.

‘So’, she begins, as they walk back to the Gryffindor Tower. ‘Excited for tomorrow?’

‘What?’

‘Don’t tell me you forgot the first trip to Hogsmeade. I’ve been waiting for ages for a day-off’.

The thing is Harry hadn’t forgotten Hogsmeade. He couldn’t, not when ideas of taking a stroll with Ginny through the village were constant on his mind; he’d thought about it ever since they announced the date of the trip, but his – that one that always got him into trouble – had faltered him for once.

‘I just lost track of time’, he says, hoping to sound distracted. ‘Got any plans?’

‘None so far’, she replies, her voice sounding as distant as his.

Harry takes a deep breath and urges himself to be brave. If he can face a basilisk, he can do this.

‘You could come with me’, he says, and when she turns to look at him, Harry discovers that looking her directly in the eyes would probably be as mortal as a basilisk eye. ‘Us, I mean, me and Ron and Hermione’. Harry forces himself to smile calmly, even though his heart is beating painfully fast now. ‘You know, if you want our company’.

He glances briefly at her. Ginny is frowning slightly.

‘I don’t want to intrude’, she says finally. Harry is glad she is not rejecting the idea.

‘You wouldn’t’. He smiled as charmingly as he can. ‘Come on, it will be like summer over again, we can tease Ron and Hermione’.

She laughs. ‘I would never miss an opportunity to tease them’, she agrees, and Harry tries not to beam as she accepts joining him – them – for Hogsmeade.

But he beams later that night when he hears Dean grumbling to Seamus that he’d asked Ginny out for Hogsmeade and she answered that she already had other plans.

Plans. They have plans together.

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

The trip to Hogsmeade is an utterly disappointment, with the bad weather and finding Mundungus Fletcher nicking Sirius’s stuff and the curse of Katie Bell. Not even Ginny’s presence is enough to save the day and Harry is left feeling miserable the whole weekend.

The meeting with Dumbledore helps to ease his tension – never mind that they are discussing Voldemort’s past – but it’s in the next morning that Harry feels hopeful again.

First, Hermione tells him of Slughorn’s Christmas party and Harry’s mind, already exceptionally good at creating scenarios involving him and Ginny (he’s been so creative lately that he thinks he could provide ideas for Fred and George’s Patented Daydream Charm), immediately wants this opportunity to ask Ginny out. And second, Hermione invites Ron to go with her, and Ron’s subsequently bliss is enough for Harry to feel that his best friend wouldn’t mind if he asks Ginny out.

Harry tries to say to himself that it’s still early – they’ve just entered November and the party is a month away, but an unforeseen complication arrives the moment that Harry asks Dean to join the team.

He’d thought that Dean would have given up on Ginny already, but from what he collects – and Harry is becoming really good at overhearing conversations -, Dean considered that Ginny denying his invitation was not because she already had a date, just because she was going with her brother. He sees Dean is more invested than ever, and when he gives her a very nice drawing of her face, Harry feels suddenly useless.

Dean can draw. What can Harry do? Sure, he flies well, but it’s not like he could impress Ginny with that when she probably flies better than him. And it’s not like being the Chosen One is a talent – it’s more of a burden, really, and Ginny already knows him enough to see he is not a hero.

He’s feeling really dismayed after the training and for once, when he realizes he and Ginny are alone in the changing room, he doesn’t feel excited.

‘Spit it out’, she says, standing in front of him with her arms crossed, as soon as the door closes after Ron.

‘What?’

‘What’s been bothering you’. She frows at him. ‘You’ve been quiet all training. You didn’t say anything when I called Ron a prat. You didn’t say anything when Ron punched Demelza and he really deserved a call. So tell me, what’s wrong?’

‘Do you ever feel like a failure?’

She blinks, clearly not expecting that question.

‘Hum. Yeah. I once opened a secret chamber, you know’.

‘That was Voldemort, not you’.

‘Well -’, she takes a step back, but she relaxes her arms. ‘But before it was his fault, it was mine. I only let him get to me because I was feeling so insecure’.

‘You were eleven’.

‘When you were eleven you were stopping You-Know-Who’, notes Ginny, rolling her eyes. ‘But what I meant is that I still question myself sometimes. And when I do, I remember that the last time I really doubted myself, I let someone control me’. Her gaze burns into his eyes and Harry thinks she never looked so fierce than now. ‘No fear will ever control me again’.

Oh, God, he feels so smitten by her.

‘Thanks’, he says instead of pulling her closer to him, which is everything his body screams for him to do. She smiles.

‘No problem, Captain. And you are not a failure. How could you be when you have me in the team?’

He laughs easily.

As they walk the grounds, Harry asks her in the most meaningless voice he can manage: ‘I saw Dean giving you a present early. You and him –‘

She sighs and Harry tries to understand if it’s a happy or sad sigh.

‘Yeah, he is – and that’s his words, not mine – courting me’.

She doesn’t sound pleased and Harry’s heart nearly bursts then, satisfied.

‘It was a nice drawing’, he says nonchalantly. She just nods. ‘What’s the problem?’

‘Really? We wouldn’t work out together’.

‘How do you know?’, asks Harry, but he is not really thinking about Dean.

‘Well, for starters, he uses the term courting’, she says, making Harry chuckle without meaning to. ‘It’s just – well, I had one relationship so I’m not an expert but – he is the kind of guy who runs to open doors and I am the kind of girl who likes to open doors for herself. We just wouldn’t click’.

‘Oh!’, Harry bits his lips but the question is his mind slips through his mouth anyway. ‘And what kind of guy am I?’

She stops to look at him. They are a few steps away from the Entrance Hall and Harry almost lost his track when he sees her illuminated by the light of the castle. It feels like a vision from the heavens.

‘The kind who would let a girl open the door if she were closer’, she says warmly, but before Harry can answer, she turns away from him, entering the castle.

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

The minute the door closes on the changing room, Harry lets out a dismayed sigh. His plan was supposed to help Ron get his confidence again, to let himself back into that bliss that had accompanied him in the days after Hermione asked him out for Slughorn’s party. Now, he doesn’t even know if Ron and Hermione will remain friends.

When he leaves the changing room, there is a crowd, many of whom are congratulating him. He just nods without really listening and when someone pulls him away from the crowd, he reacts until he realizes it’s Ginny.

‘Come on’, she says and instead of taking the shortcut that every other Gryffindor is using, they use the normal stairs to go up. ‘What happened?’, Ginny asks, when the sound of the crowd vanishes behind them.

He tells the story in a low voice, not wanting to look at her as he recalls his plan, wondering now how he didn’t think Hermione would assume the worst –

‘It was a good plan’, Ginny mumbleswhen he finishes the story. They are in the seventh-floor corridor now, and she stops by a window, crossing her arms as she lays her back against the wall. The wind makes her hair flow like flames around her; this distracts Harry for a few seconds until he sighs.

‘It backfired completely’.

‘Well, yes, but only after the game’. She bits her lips, thoroughly. ‘But for your plan of helping Ron, it worked. He is a good keeper when he can keep his head in the right place’.

‘Yeah’. He sighs again, taking a step closer to her and looking at the window, trying to ignore how her scent of flowers threatens to overwhelm him. ‘Except now he is mad at Hermione and she is feeling hurt and –‘

‘They are bickering, Harry’, she notes. ‘That’s what they do’.

‘Yeah, but –‘, he remembers that day in the greenhouses. ‘- but for once they were closer to be over that phase, you know? They were going together to Slughorn’s party’.

‘They still will’, Ginny says calmly. ‘It’s just another fight for them. You could call it foreplay even’.

‘Ew, thanks for the image’, he complains, but there is a smile on his face that reveals his amusement. It’s easy to let her quiet words wash over him, drawing away the apprehension.

That’s Ginny’s power over him, he thinks. There is a lightness in her, something that makes him feel as if he had just eaten a chocolate after encountering a dementor, or as if he is as protected as if he just casted the Patronus Charm.

‘You know, I can’t still believe Hermione invited Ron’, she says almost absently.

When Harry thinks about it, he considers that maybe Hermione just lost the patience that Ron would ever ask her out; but right now, he feels envy for her courage, for her stepping over any fear and asking out someone who is one of her closest friends. If Hermione could do it, then he can too.

‘I take you are nervous about it?’, she asks, and Harry turns to her, confused to what she means. ‘About Ron and Hermione, you know, dating’.

Harry shrugs, trying to look nonchalant.

‘As long as I don’t have to see it’, he says. She raises her eyebrows, not believing his indifference. ‘Okay, I worry a bit. If they split up, I don’t know how things would be’.

‘No one knows. But that’s their problem, Harry, not yours’.

‘Our friendship –‘

‘- will survive’, she finishes for him.

‘How do you know?’

‘With the things you’ve faced together, you just can’t stop being friends’. She stares at him for a few seconds, then adds gently: ‘And they won’t ever leave you’.

He blinks, losing himself in the warm brown of her eyes, marvelous at how she always seems to read his mind. He wonders if there is more she can see through him.

If she knows how he feels for her.

‘And if they do split up, at least they will know. Not knowing is the worst sometimes’.

Harry agrees. Sometimes at night when he wonders how it would be Ginny’s reaction to him asking her out, he thinks that the agony of unknowing is worse than any rejection he could face.

‘So it’s good they have a date’, Ginny is saying, seeming to not notice any of Harry’s internal discussion. ‘Slughorn’s party looks nice’, she glances at him rather amusedly. ‘You would know if you had gone into any of his dinners’.

‘I wish I’d gone’, Harry says rather fervidly, thinking he’d enjoy that extra time with Ginny. Then he takes a deep breath. It doesn’t make sense to wish for more time and do nothing about it. ‘Are you going with someone?’

She blinks slowly.

‘Dean’s been giving me some hints he’d like to go with me, but, you know –‘

‘- you are not interested in being courted’, he remembers, with a smile that is calmer than he really feels. His heart is beating so loud in his chest that he wonders if she can hear it. ‘So if you don’t have any plans, would you like to come with me?’

The words are said so naturally that something inside him is almost applauding him, elated that he could really ask her without tumbling the words; he can still remember that Wangoballwime fiasco. But now, as time seems to stop as he waits for her answer, he thinks it’s obvious he would be better asking Ginny out.

Whatever he felt for Cho is in no way comparable to what he feels now.

Ginny is still looking at him, without blinking, and he thinks it’s the first time in a long time he sees her so quiet.

‘Just to be clear –‘, she begins, then she shakes her head. He sees her taking a short breath. ‘We could go together, yes’. There is a smile on her lips that doesn’t reach her eyes. ‘I imagine this way Romilda Vane and all those other girls will stop pestering you about’.

He could just nod. He could accept her perfect reasonable explanation for them going together to the party and that way there will be no chance of things being weird between them.

But for her, he is willing to take a chance.

‘They would, but that’s not because I am asking you’, he says, his voice low. 'I really -'

There is a high shriek on the end of the corridor. They turn around together to see the portrait of the Fat Lady opening and Hermione is leaving the Common Room. There is a cloud of birds around her head and as they watch, the birds suddenly fly directly to the Common Room; there is a scream of pain.

Harry and Ginny look at each other.

'I'll see Hermione', she says, just as Harry nods.

'I'll go check Ron', and they split.

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

There are many things Harry could've foreseen, but Ron dating Lavender Brown is not one of them.

Things between Ron and Hermione are rocky, and as he plays the middle man between them, he finds out there is not much room for telling either of them that he has invited Ginny to go with him to Slughorn's party.

He supposes Ron wouldn't be mad at him, but he only supposes because his friend is always occupied with Lavender these days - or rather their mouths are. At least Harry feels any protectiveness of Ron would be rather hypocrite considering how much Harry has unfortunately seen his best friend snogging.

And Hermione looks so heartbroken and furious these days that he doesn't have the heart to tell her about his plans with Ginny.

He couldn't stop beaming if he told her and that's not very tactful.

Sometimes he feels like the worst friend – his best friends aren't talking to each other, Ron has lost himself in a relationship and Hermione is so upset – but the truth is that the idea of going on a date with Ginny fills his heart with glee and makes him want to sing.

And if Ginny mentioned to anyone that they will go together, Harry wouldn't know. He thinks not, because he doesn't hear anyone talking about it – and between Dean Thomas and Romilda Vane, he would've heard; even Ron would return to the surface to say something, he thinks.

It's just one of these things that somehow feels weird to announce after not announcing it immediately, so he considers that people will just notice when they go together.

And it's not like there is anything different between him and Ginny. She treats him as normal as before he'd asked her out, and if their eyes meet randomly through the day – and she smiles at him – it's still normal.

But he waits more anxiously than before to Slughorn's party, imagining candle lights and romantic songs, maybe a slow dance.

He can’t dance for his life, but for Ginny he thinks he could learn ballet.

Romilda Vane keeps hinting that she’d like to go to the party with him and Hermione advices that he should ask someone else so people can stop pestering him.

‘I have’, he says finally, and the smile is already in the corner of his mouth, as much as he wants to pretend it's no big deal. ‘I’m going with Ginny’.

His attempt at apathy is pathetic and even though Hermione has not been herself lately, she is still smart enough to see right past him.

‘Oh. Finally, then’.

Harry pretends to not understand.

‘Why are you keeping it a secret?’

They aren’t, not really, so Harry just shrugs. He has dealt with the effects that being related to him have caused before, and he doesn’t want for it to happen again - not so soon, not before he and Ginny even… What?

He doesn’t know what he is waiting to happen first, but, still, it seems important to wait.

‘You better tell…’, Hermione is suddenly quiet. ‘Well, you don’t want people to know second-hand’.

Harry sighs, but he nods in agreement. Hermione is probably right, as always.

‘For what matters, Harry, I’m happy for you. I hope things go well’. They exchange a short smile, before Hermione is serious again. ‘Now, I really think you need to be careful with love potions...’

Hermione’s advice - both about love potions and telling Ron – stays in Harry’s mind. He doesn’t get the chance to tell Ron that night – Ron’s too much occupied with Lavender to notice Harry – and he promises that he will tell Ron the next day, hoping his friend won’t notice that he is telling just hours before the party.

The next morning, he waits until Ron finishes his breakfast – his humour is always better when his stomach is full – before telling him bluntly just outside the Transfiguration classroom.

‘There’s something I need to tell you. Slughorn’s party tonight. I’m going with Ginny’.

The fact that Ron doesn’t immediately draw his wand encourages Harry.

‘Ginny? As in my sister Ginny?’

Harry nods in silence, careful not to give any provocative answer. Sarcasm has always been his best defence, but he doesn't think Ron would appreciate it right now.

‘As friends?’

‘Hmmm, not exactly, we - we will see’.

‘Oh’.

And then Ron stays silent, but Harry sees him throwing glances at Hermione for the first time in weeks and when Lavender approaches him, he looks less thrilled than before.

‘Don’t mess this up’, is all Ron says quietly to him, just before the class begins, and Harry wonders if Ron is sorry for all the things he has messed up with his own love life.

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

The thing is Harry doesn’t get many moments in his life where he can feel like something has changed; well, at least not many good moments. When he found out he was a wizard is one. The first time he flew on a broomstick. When he and Ron saved Hermione and they became friends.

But he likes to think he’s in one of these moments now, as he watches Ginny coming down the stairs.

He knows she is beautiful and he knows he has been smitten with her for a while now, but still his heart skips a beat as he takes in her figure: the shining red hair, which instead of being in the usual practical ponytail is falling in delicate curls; the way her eyes are glinting, with a soft make-up that he rarely sees her wearing; and the dark green robes she wears, hightlighting her figure and showing her curves much more than the school robes.

'Hi', she says brightly, and Harry appreciates the fact that she doesn't comment on how he is blushing (he must be, his face seems to be on flames) or how he's staring open-mouthed at her. 'You look nice'.

Harry couldn't describe for his life the clothes he is wearing. He could be naked and he wouldn't notice it.

'You look amazing', he insists, and there is so much sincerity in her voice that a light pinkness arises in her face.

But all she says is: 'Shall we go?'

He nods quietly, and then he wonders if he should offer his hand - or his arm? His arm would be the respectable option, but if he took her hand, then -

Ginny decides it for him. As they walk through the portrait, in a gesture that seems more natural than breathing, she takes his hand.

Her hand is soft and warm and as their fingers interlace, it takes all of Harry's effort not to kiss her now and then, even before their date really begins.

'Who do you think Slughorn invited?', she asks, her voice casual.

Harry smiles to himself. Of course Ginny wouldn't let things get strange between them.

They talk normally as they descend the stairs to Slughorn's office, and Harry is feeling silly for all the times he has feared that something could go wrong this night. It's Ginny whom he is with.

So he talks with Slughorn and accepts being presented to anyone because with Ginny by his side, he thinks he can face anything. She makes funny comments – and Harry chokes more than once when she passes ironic comments with the most innocent face he's ever seen – and after a while he notes that even when the people they are talking to were originally interested in Harry, it's Ginny that draws the attention. She is so lively that he can't blame others for noticing it.

They talk and they laugh and they save Hermione from Cormac McLaggen.

''She'll come back in a minute, Cormac', Ginny says with a straight face when McLaggen asks them if they saw Hermione. 'Why don't you try these custard creams while you wait?, and she apparently takes a biscuit from the nearest tray, offering him one. 'Let's get some air, Harry?'

Harry nods with a smile, already awaiting. He and Ginny are already on the other side of the room when there is a sudden pop and they turn to watch a canary appearing in the middle of Slughorn's office, in the place McLaggen was.

They laugh together, but as his eyes meet hers, Harry feels the reason for his amusement changing.

Or maybe not. In any case it is Ginny that makes him happy.

But now instead of feeling joy for a prank, he feels a quiet warmth spreading through his body and when their laugh dies, the silence that fills them is not heavy; it's a silence that questions Harry and it's a silence that there is only one answer he could give.

His eyes drift to her lips for a brief second – they are pink and shiny and they look so soft – and when he looks at her again, there is a blazing look in her face that Harry wants to see forever.

Her hand is still connected with his – he realizes now that they never once broke apart during the party – so it's the easiest thing to pull her through a curtain, to a nice desert balcony and take a step closer to her.

For a moment, they stand together, looking at each other, then Harry presses his lips softly to hers.

The softness lasts two seconds as if neither believes the kiss is really happening. Then Ginny places her free hand on his neck and Harry holds her by the waist and then suddenly they are closer, their bodies together and their lips urgently. Her lips part and he can taste her - really feel the taste of the butterbeer she drank and the other flavor that is spicy and sweet and intoxicating that screams of Ginny. Her hand playing in his hair causes shivers that have nothing to do with the cold air of December.

A part of Harry wonders if maybe there are fireworks in the party, because he can hear them exploding, he can see all the colours even though his eyes are closed. He doesn't know where he is, what day it is,how long they've been kissing each other on that balcony; all he knows is that she is the only real thing in the world and he promises he won't ever stop kissing her –

Unfortunately Harry breaks this promise a second later. There is a distraction back in the room and the loud noise is enough to break them apart. Still, Harry doesn't really move, breathing hard – they hadn't stopped for something as silly as breathing –, his heart pumping fast in his chest, all his senses still concentrated on Ginny, until he recognises the voices.

Snape. Malfoy. Their voices break through his bubble of happiness and blissfulness.

His distress must be evident on his face, because Ginny takes a step back, with a knowing smile, and pulls him back to Slughorn's office.

He watches the discussion and when Snape and Malfoy are leaving, he hesitates, looking back at Ginny.

For one second his eyes drift to her lips – their lipstick is gone and he remembers his promise, wants to taste her again, wants to be lost in the feeling of having her in his arms –, but when their eyes meet, she unclasps their hands.

'Go', she says in a quiet voice. 'I'll come up with something'. When he still doesn't move, she smiles slightly. 'We'll have all winter holiday, Harry'.

It's that promise – and the ideas of being together with her for two weeks – that makes him leave her side for the night.

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

He doesn't meet Ginny again until the next morning, when he arrives to get the Floo for the Burrow.

Ginny smiles brightly at him. His body reacts as always – warmth spreads through every part, a grin comes to his face and his heart beats faster –, but it's a welcome feeling after all the worry he had been with Unbreakable Vows or whatever.

He will worry about it later; now his only concern is being with Ginny and –

His eyes fall on Ron, at her side. His best friend has his eyebrows raised, and he looks to Harry rather questioningly, but he stays strangely quiet. Then Lavender is there, kissing him as if Ron's going to war, rather than being away from her for two weeks, and Ginny rolls her eyes in disgust, but doesn't say anything.

'Happy Holidays, Harry, Ginny', he hears Hermione saying by his side, her eyes suddenly red and she enters the fireplace hurriedly.

Ginny scowls at this and throws an annoyed look at Ron – Harry sees her hand twitching to brag ger wand –, but she presses her lips firmly.

Harry feels like he's missing something.

'Hi', he begins tentatively, and Ginny turns to him with a softer expression.

'Hi. Ready to go?'

'Always. Ah - about the end of the party –'

Her smile falters for a short second.

'No harm done. I got back in time to save Hermione one last time from McLaggen, so everything worked out perfectly'.

Harry sighs.

'That is not how I imagined the night ending'.

'So you were imagining things?', she asks teasingly and Harry feels his cheek burning, but he nods, taking a careful step closer to her.

'I've been imagining them for a while now', he whispers, for once happy with all the kissing noise of Ron and Lavender behind them. There is a sparkle in Ginny's eyes now.

'Perhaps we can turn those imaginations into reality'.

He raises his hand, putting a lost strand of her hair behind her ear, and he thinks her smile is warmer than the fireplace in the room. He wonders if he'd dare kiss her now – there is certainly a challenge in her eyes – but before he can move, McGonagall is calling them for taking the Floo.

'Later then', whispers Ginny, winking at him, and Harry's heart beats faster.

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

The Christmas Holiday is anything but frosty for Harry, even though he has his fair share of stressful moments - werewolves, discussing Unbreakable Vows, unexpected visits from the Minister of Magic.

Still, if Harry had to summarize those two weeks in one word, he would say Ginny.

Not that anyone asks him about. There is some mutual agreement between Ron and Ginny, so no one knows they went out together to Slughorn's party just as Fred and George are left without knowing about Ron's new girlfriend and their activities.

That means no one – except Ron but he is turning a blind eye, albeit a slight judgemental blind eye – really understand why Harry is grinning through the holidays, why he always wakes up smiling, why he offers to help Ginny set the decorations, why he and Ginny tries to cook apple pie closed together in the kitchen (the pie ends up quite tasty if a little bit burnt).

Sometimes Harry thinks people should know – they can't be really keeping a secret from Fred and George, and Mrs. Weasley always seemed to know things –, but most of the time his thoughts are occupied somewhere else.

Or rather in someone else.

Harry is patient on the first day of the holidays. He lets Mrs. Weasley take care of him – complaining that he is still too thin, asking how things are in school – until he drops his things on Ron's bedroom and says something about needing to take some air. Ron is not convinced, but Harry can't really care right now. Thirty seconds after leaving Ron he is already out of the house; ten seconds later, Ginny is in his arms, her body pressed against his as they kiss under an apple tree in the garden.

It's hidden there, with only the moonlight as witness, and Harry loses himself gladly in the feeling of her lips, her hands in his neck, the softness of her skin as he finds an opening in her jumper and touches her back, marvelling at the fact that she trembles upon his touch.

It's a routine they will share for the next few days. Hidden stolen moments in the garden, in the attic (ignoring the sleeping ghoul there), their lips exploring each other, discovering the best angle to kiss, until they are both left gasping for air, their lips swollen from the kisses and with that smile that Harry feels like an outdoor for ‘hey, I’ve been snogging’.

Still, no one asks him anything and for once Harry prefers it that way. They will tell people later, it’s just that for now it’s good to keep a secret that has nothing to do with Dark Arts or Voldemort, and it’s good to avoid any teasing or older brother-talking or – as Ginny says with a shudder – Mrs. Weasley’s delightful approval.

Maybe people think they are just good friends. In fact, every time he can’t be alone with Ginny without arousing suspicion, they are together, talking and discussing anything. It’s not much different from what they did during summer holidays, but Harry now thoroughly appreciates how Ginny is a good company, how he can talk to her about any subject.

Well, almost any subject. She doesn’t ask what he found out following Malfoy and Snape on the night of Slughorn’s party, and Harry doesn’t want to share with her – not because he doesn’t trust her, but because telling her it would somehow involve in that mystery and it would be too close to the fact that he is the Chosen One, and when he is with her, he just wants to forget it and be a normal teenager.

She seems to understand it. That's the thing he most likes about her, more even than the physical things he feels when he is with her; she never presses him for anything.

They kiss under the mistletoe she has left on the porch (and Harry can't help but think it's really an improvement from his first kiss), they kiss in the kitchen when they happen to meet late in the night for a hot chocolate (that he can taste in her lips).

It's the best holiday Harry ever had.

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

The night before they return to Hogwarts, Ron asks Harry nervously:

'What's going on between you and Ginny? Are you going out?'

Harry hesitates for a second.

'I don't know', he answers truthfully, but now that Ron has asked, this uncertainty bothers him. Ron frowns, his disapproval evident, and Harry hurries to add: 'I'm not messing her around. I really like her'.

At this, Ron seems to relax a little.

'Just - just talk to her, ok? I don't want people saying that my sister - well - just decide what's going on with you two'.

Harry nods in silence.

He lays in his bed for a while, hearing Ron’s soft snores in the bed next to his, before he quietly slips out of the bed. He’s careful to avoid any of the steps that always seems to resonate in the house, and before he can lose his courage, he knocks on her door.

After five seconds that seem to last longer, she opens her door.

‘Harry?’, she asks, blinking and confused. Harry doesn’t think she was asleep, but she was obviously preparing to; she’s wearing a robe, her hair wet, and he sees her holding a towel that she was using to dry her hair. When she sees him staring, a faint blush comes to her face. ‘I take a shower when I can’t sleep’, she admits.

That’s not where Harry’s mind was. He must have kissed her a hundred times by now, must have seen her blushing and teasingly and confident and daring, but seeing her fresh from a shower, with her floral scent heavier in the air, the only thing he was considering is how much he wants her, how much he is falling for her.

‘Do you want to go out with me?’, asks Harry. She blinks, surprised, and looks around quickly.

‘Come on’, she says, pushing him inside her bedroom and closing the door.

Harry had never ever seen her room before, so he is distracted for a moment, taking in the small bedroom, her decoration. Then his eyes fall on the bed and he feels suddenly very hot.

He tries to ignore the flush creeping over his neck as he turns back to her, but he can’t really meet her eyes – Ginny always seemed to read him very well…

‘Why are you asking me out, Harry?’

That stops his creative mind that was still fixed on her bed.

‘Well - because I want to go out with you?’

‘I figured that out, you know, considering how much we’ve been snogging’, Ginny points out. ‘But that doesn’t answer my question’.

‘It’s just – Ron said -’, at this, Ginny furrows her brows and Harry considers that maybe Ron is in danger. ‘I just don’t want to seem like I’m taking advantage of you or –’

‘I believe I was having as much “advantage” as you’, she says with a grin that Harry can’t help but share too. Then he shakes his head.

‘I want to do things right’, he says firmly.

‘You mostly definitive are’, Ginny assures him, winking. ‘I just don’t know if you really want to date me’.

‘Of course I –’

‘I mean, we sort of never told anyone we were going together for Slughorn’s party and I thought you wanted to keep things private’. Harry bits his lips. She takes a step closer to him, grabbing his hand gently. ‘I know you don’t like getting attention and if we’ve dated, people would talk about. I can handle people – that’s why I learnt the Bat-Bogey Hex, but I thought you’d be stressed’.

Harry raises his free hand, touching her face, the wet locks of her copper hair.

‘I don’t like people talking about my life’, he whispers. ‘But for once people would talk about something that’s making me happier than I remember being in a while, so that would be a change. Still – if we could keep just between us – I just don’t want to seem like I’m ashamed of you or that I want to keep you a secret -’

She smiles.

‘Keeping this low was my idea as much as yours’, she remembers. ‘And we don’t need to keep it a secret forever, just, you know, until people find out. Until then –’, she approaches him, raising on her tiptoes to press her lips softly in this neck. The goosebumps erupt all over Harry. ‘– we can have some fun’.

#hinny #wip without progress #just sharing some nice moments #i like the words there #Harry feels really romantic when he is pining #and hinny is my otp #just words lots of words and feelings #for curiosity this would go until the end of the book #lots of snogging happy moments for them #some fights because now there would be time to discuss everything they don't discuss #but still they would be happy together

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harrywritingsbyme · 4 years ago

Text

Just The Way You Are

Based Off Of This Ask

And This One

A/N: Anon…tysm for helping me out of my brain fart and suggesting/requesting this concept. I may or may not have cried (more like bawled) while writing this one. I love it sm and I feel like it’s perfect bc it’s so relatable for so many, so I hope you like it bby🥺!! and I just realized that this is my last full post of 2020 which is absolutely insane…enjoy🙃

What you saw in the mirror was always a struggle for you. You were heavy in the chest, your hips were wide, you had chub in places where you didn’t want chub, and you had an endless supply of thighs. For the longest time you’d been in the never ending battle with your weight and with your figure. For years, you struggled to lose weight and slim down, trying your hardest to fit into the mold and standard of beauty that was placed before you. You tried so many of the fad diets you’d found on the internet and countless workout routines that were supposedly going to give you that instant gratification and the appearance you were chasing after.

But at the end of it all, you got nothing. In fact, you came out with less than what you came in with. The only thing that came out of those efforts was even more disappointment in yourself. And the disappointment and dissatisfaction that came from those efforts was just a portion of the mountain of disdain and sadness that was already growing inside of you towards yourself. There were so many times where you just wanted to give up on it all. You felt like you’d never be seen as beautiful by yourself or by anyone else. You felt like there was absolutely no hope and that you weren’t going to be able to be loved by anyone because of your outward appearance. You felt stuck.

And you felt stuck for a while. You went back and forth between fighting to get out of this state and just letting it be that way for who knows how long. You went on and on in this cycle until you became tired of being that way. It became exhausting. You’d reached your lowest point, you were drained. You realized that you couldn’t stay like this forever, nor were you going to allow yourself to stay like this anymore. So you pulled yourself up and you came up with a way to get yourself up. Even though it probably wasn’t the best mindset to have, you came to the resolve that if you couldn’t change it and if you weren’t going to be accepted and loved by anyone on the basis of your looks, you might as well accept and love yourself the way you were. And believe it or not, that pessimistic yet strangely optimistic mindset actually got you to a much better place. Sure you still had your insecurities about the way you looked and sure your heart sunk a little bit when you looked in the mirror, but you were feeling better than before and that’s all you cared about. You weren’t completely over the hill in regards to the negative feelings towards yourself but you definitely made progress and that’s all that mattered to you. You were finally feeling better.

And you only got better. After making it to the point of feeling a bit better about yourself, you met Harry. He managed to shower you with all the love and affection you never thought you’d ever receive from someone. Even though you were strong in your convictions when it came to finding any type of approval in a man, you couldn’t resist Harry. He was an absolute dream. Along with loving you and your body, he was everything you could’ve wanted in a partner. There was no other way to describe it, he was just amazing and you didn’t want to let him go, nor were you planning to. You didn’t even entertain the thought. You held onto him and you enjoyed the pure bliss that came from being together. The both of you were completely head over heels for each other. And as you and Harry’s relationship grew, you blossomed. You became confident in yourself and you were able to stop putting yourself down. You’d reached the better place you were desperately searching for all this time. You were happy. This time, it wasn’t a facade that you were putting up to disguise your true and beyond negative feelings. You were truly happy.

But with all good things of course, they either come to an end or come at a price. And being with Harry came at a price. You and Harry tried your best to keep your relationship away from the prying eyes that were constantly surrounding him. But you could only do but so much with that. It wasn’t that long before everyone found out who you were and made things a bit harder for you. After a little over nine months into your relationship with Harry, you began noticing an all around influx in your social media’s along with the press in general. Your picture was everywhere and there were so many people who were taking and interest in you and talking about you. You knew it came with the territory of dating someone who had an enormous amount of fame the way Harry did, but it was still very foreign and it was something that you weren’t prepared for. There were so many comments that made you happy and feel better about the situation. They were so happy to see you dating Harry, especially since you were very different from the women he’s dated and has been associated with in the past. Seeing those things always melted your heart and made you feel so good inside.

But for some reason, the bad always crept in and overshadowed the good that was being brought your way. Along with an influx in positives, there was an influx in the negatives with the main target being your appearance. You tried to block it out and not focus on the negative, but those feelings that Harry was able to break through in the beginning came creeping back. Harry tried to console you in any way possible given the fact that you had talked to him a little bit about your past struggles. He took the time to remind you that you were desirable and that you were beautiful and that he loved you. Now while you were still down about what was being said about you, Harry’s words definitely provided comfort to you and made the situation tolerable. They didn’t miraculously change your thinking on the matter, but Harry’s words were able to stop you from going into the dark place you were in before which was what you needed at the time. Since everything was coming down onto you all at once, that was exactly what you needed. And eventually, with Harry’s help, you were able to make it through that incredibly intense time.

Not too long after the news broke about your relationship, you and Harry celebrated your one year anniversary together, the both of you were beyond ecstatic about the milestone and your lives together going forward. The both of you were so happy to be together and so happy to have made it through the hell that was the past three months following the revealing of guys’ relationship. As you two continued on together, the negativity still came your way though. You tried your best to block it all out and keep moving forward to the best of your abilities but you weren’t able to let it all roll off you back. Some of it stayed with you, prompting you to just spring into action. Because you had so many people talking about you and your appearance, picking you apart at every turn, you were became determined to make them shut up. And the only way you knew how to do that was by going to work out with Harry. You figured that if you were able to do what he was doing, you’d be able to transform and as a result get them all to shut up and leave you alone.

So you gave Harry the lame excuse of wanting to accomplish the health goal you had set for yourself which marked the beginning of your anxiety and stress filled workout journey. Harry bought right into that positive notion too, completely ready and willing to help you accomplish your goal and completely oblivious to your true motives towards wanting to start working out with him. From that point on, the two of you got up early at the same time five days a week to work out. It was incredibly hard for you to do but you were beyond motivated to shut everyone up and go back to having that peace you once had within yourself.

You just wanted it all to stop.

Now while you were extremely determined to workout, Harry began noticing some things that prompted red flags to go up in his head. The main and number one thing that got his attention was your excessiveness in regards to working out. After helping you get accustomed to working out the way he did and on the schedule he did it, you ran with it and never stopped. You began working out all the time, making your schedule seven days a week and sometimes twice a day. You were pushing yourself so hard and he was worried about you. He knew that you struggled with your confidence and body image so he didn’t want to discourage you. But he didn’t want you to hurt yourself either, nor did he want you to feel like you had to work out and change yourself for him or anyone for that matter. He knew that something had to be done and he was determined to get to the bottom of it.

He decided to step in and do it all this morning. Normally it’d be an off day but since you were on seven days a week, you were getting up early to head downstairs to the gym. As you were moving to sit up, Harry tightened his grip around you, keeping your body down on the bed and against him.

“Harry, you have to let me go.” You whisper back to him, trying to wiggle your way out of his grip.

“No I don’t, you deserve a rest day anyways.” He mumbles back to you through a yawn, beginning to fully wake up as well.

“I need to do this babe, I don’t be long.” You try and reason with him, still trying to release his grip from around you.

“Okay fine, but can we please talk before you go down?” He bargains, even though he had no intention of letting you go down there.

“Sure.” You agree, stopping your attempts to free yourself from his grip.

“Thanks baby.” He hums before unwrapping his arm from around you and sitting up in the bed to almost hover over your body. “So what’s going on?” He asks calmly yet bluntly.

“What do you mean?” You reply back to him with a puzzled look spread across your face to match your response.

“You’ve been working out so much recently and it’s becoming a bit concerning sweets. I want you to reach your goal, I really do! I just want you to be healthy about it.” He softly points out to you, bringing his hand down to your cheek.

“I’m fine Harry. I really want to reach this goal so I’m doing everything I possibly can.” You attempt to justify your actions over the past weeks, trying to steady your breathing a bit as well as you adjust to the touchy subject at hand.

“Well I understand that and I’m so proud of you for going at this with that determination, I really am. It’s just that I don’t want you to be doing this because of all the things going around online.” He explains, his voice filled with worry and concern. “I know it’s hard, but if you’re doing this, you should be doing this for you baby. That’s it.” He adds.

When he says this, your heart sinks. You weren’t doing this for you. And you didn’t want him to find out your actual reasons for working out seven days a week and practically killing yourself because if he did, which he ultimately was, it was going to crush him. And the last thing you wanted was for him to worry about you. You could see all the worry and concern painted all over his face and you hated it. You hated it so much that you began to cry, not being able to hold back the tears that were already bubbling up in your eyes.

“Oh my-baby please talk to me!” He begs, wiping the tears that were falling from your eyes.

“It’s just so hard Harry. I’ve never had this many people coming at me about the way I looked. The only people I had to worry about before with this were myself and anyone I came in contact with. But now it’s everyone and it’s too much. I just want them all to shut up and leave me alone.” You rush out through your tears, completely breaking down below him.

“I’m so sorry baby.”

“The only reason why I’m working out so much and trying so hard to get through it all is because I love you so so much. I can’t go back to that dark place anymore, I just wanna stay out here in the light and happiness with you. It’s just so hard when you have so many people coming at you all at once and it makes you want to just give in so that you can have peace.” You sob. When Harry hears this, his heart breaks into a million pieces. He was assuming full responsibility for this. He felt like if it wasn’t for him entering your life, you wouldn’t be completely broken before him right now.

“I’m so sorry that you’re going through all of this baby. It’s all my fault and I feel horrible for even putting you in this position.” Harry sighs, feeling tears beginning to form in his eyes as well.

“But it’s not-“

“It is my fault.” He quickly interjects. “You’re going through this torture because of me and I’m so so sorry. I love you so much baby and I wish that I could just end all of this for you.” He whimpers, feeling the hot tears streaming down his face.

“I love you too Harry. And it’s not your fault.” You reiterate, making it clear that you didn’t blame him for any of this.

“I just need you to remember that I love you so much. I love all of you so much.” He says firmly to you, locking his eyes with yours to really reach you. He couldn’t stress how beautiful you were in his eyes enough. You were absolutely amazing to him and he just wanted to touch and admire you all the time if he could. He wanted to constantly shower you with all the love and affection you deserved. He wanted the girl he loved to know that she was absolutely stunning and that he couldn’t get enough of her. He needed you to know that. It was so important to him that you know how beautiful you were.

And he planned on making sure you knew just how beautiful you were. He quickly wipes his face before pulling your legs apart and moving in between them.

“Harry what are you doing?” You ask at his sudden movements.

“Shh, just let me love on you baby.” He coos down to you before bringing his lips to yours. The kiss is soft but filled with passion. You could feel it radiating off of Harry and down onto you. As he continues to kiss your lips, you feel his hands glide down your body, tugging up at hem of the shirt you slept in. Keeping his lips on yours, he pulls it up your body detaching his mouth when he pulls the shirt off of your body, leaving you in just your panties below him. “You are so beautiful.” He admires, taking in your pretty much naked body. Everywhere he looked he found something that he loved. There was no part of you that he hated. In fact, anything you hated, he loved.

Without wasting anymore time, Harry jumps right into his praising session so to speak. He starts at your lips, leaving you one final kiss before leaving a trail of kisses down the lower portion of your face and neck, going all the way down and stopping at your chest. He brings his hands up to your ample breasts and he cups both of them in his hands. He then lifts his head up a bit to lock eyes with you.

“I love these so much. They’re so pretty and they fit perfectly in my hands.” He whispers, bringing his mouth to one of your breasts and capturing one of your nipples in his mouth. He then begins to suck on you, using his hands to squeeze wherever he couldn’t have his mouth. As he did this, your eyes fluttered shut and your mouth hung open, allowing little moans to escape as you enjoyed the physical and emotional pleasure you were receiving from Harry. Even though it was just the beginning, you knew what he was doing because he’d done it many times before. And every time he did it, you had the same reaction. You were in a completely blissful state and you felt loved every single time. Those feelings were only intensified since you and Harry talked and you really expressed what you were going through. And now that you let all of that out, you felt lighter and you were so ready to feel good again. Harry then removes his mouth from your breast and latches onto the other, doing the exact same thing as before. Squeezing your flesh and rolling your nipple between his fingers as he sucked on the other. He continues on like this a little longer before moving down your body.

“I love this tummy of yours.” He hums delightedly, leaving kisses all over the area, making sure to leave kisses along your sides as well, nipping at your chub every once in a while too. “Can’t wait to put out baby in here.” Harry hums, enjoying the idea of having a baby with you.

“Oh my goodness Harry!” You chuckle through your labored breaths.

“You’d look so pretty, maybe even prettier than you already are if that’s even possible.” He praises, smoothing his hand across your empty stomach. Harry then moves on to the next part of your body.

“I love these hips.” He groans biting into and kissing the flesh of your hips. “Love grabbin’ them when I fuck you. So good.” He sighs, thinking back on the times he’s pushed into you. He then moves even lower. He begins to leave kisses along the side bands of your panties, bringing his mouth closer and closer to where your need was mounting. But instead of going there, he keeps going down and stops at your thighs.

“I don’t know if I told you this, but I’m in love with your thighs. Like they’re absolutely delicious and amazing.” He rambles up to your before biting into one of them, squeezing the other as he did this. Harry loved how fleshy your thighs were. He couldn’t get enough of how they quaked and jiggled when he fucked into you. They were so soft and plushy, how could Harry possibly resist them?! Once he’s done loving on your thighs, Harry lifts himself up so that he’s kneeling between your legs before quickly pulling you onto your side to give your ass a couple swats, causing you to yelp out to him from how it stung. “I didn’t forget about your ass either baby, I love pulling it apart and having my face buried in it.” He says before pushing you back into your original position below him.

“And now to the last stop.” He announces, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your panties before tugging them down, lifting your legs up to fully pull them off. He tosses them to the side and spreads your legs for him, revealing your soft and puffy center. “I love your pussy. It’s magical if m’being completely honest. It’s all puffy and warm and sticky. It’s just the best. Feels amazing around my cock and it tastes amazing on my tongue.” He heavily praises before going in. He could see that you were already dripping so he knew that it wouldn’t take long at all to make you let go in his mouth.

With his mouth on you, Harry licks a wide stripe up your folds, pushing his tongue into you. When he does this, your hands go straight to his hair and your thighs begin to close a little around his head, prompting Harry to moan a little and rut his now hard cock against the bed. Even though this was all about you, Harry couldn’t stop himself from getting hard. In fact, he got hard because it was about you. Anything you did had the power to turn him on. He was constantly getting hard because of you. In fact, as he licked into you, Harry was rutting his hips down into the bed to relieve some of the pressure in his cock. All Harry wanted was to be wrapped up in you all the time. Just like now, Harry was eating you like his life depended on it as your thighs were wrapped around his head. While you were in heaven, Harry was in heaven as well. As he continued on, your were absolutely losing it too. His mouth felt absolutely amazing on you. You were already buzzing from the way he practically worshiped your body so now that he was full on eating you, you were incredibly close to letting go.

“Feels so good!” You moan out to him, feeling a warmth spreading throughout your body. “Think m’gonna cum.” You pant, tightening your grip on him. To push you right over the edge, Harry moves his tongue up from your entrance and just sucks on your buzzing clit. This does the trick perfectly. As you let go, Harry could feel himself getting closer to his own release so he continues to push himself back and forth against the bed.

Once you’re all done and your body goes limp, Harry leaves a kiss to your clit along with a kiss to each of your thighs, both of your hips, your stomach, and both of your breasts before stopping at your face.

“I love you.” You hum lazily, still recovering from your release.

“I love you too baby.” Harry hums with a little chuckle, enjoying how tired out you are. “I love you just the way you are. I know it’s hard for you and I’m incredibly sorry for that. But we’ll get through it, right lovie?”

“Mhm!” You mumble happily.

“That’s right, and no more excessive workouts. If you wanna do some extra workouts, let me know so that we can have sex instead.” He proposes happily.

“Can we “work out” some more then?” You breathe out.

“I’d love that.

Masterlist

#Harry Styles #harry styles smut #harry smut #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles blurb #harry styles blurbs #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x reader #harry x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles writing #my harry writing #boyfriend!harry #harrywritingsbyme

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bopbopstyles · 5 years ago

Text

Residue

RATING: R/smut (cw: emotional and mild physical abuse mentioned)

WORD COUNT: 8.5k eek

CATEGORIES: friends to lovers, camping!harry (?), sleeping in the same bed

NOTE: this is for the Sex Bucket List Fic Challenge from @berrynarrybanana - prompt was in a tent while camping with friends....and then I just kind of created this mess. check out the other fics and the amazing creators!!!!

I ENDED UP WRITING A PT.2! Read Endlessly here.

pls reblog and share with your friends 💕

“When are you going to tell Y/N?”

Harry looked down at his feet. His boots were scuffed from walking through the rocky terrain to the lake earlier when they’d gone swimming. The image of you in her bikini flashed through his mind, and he restrained from groaning--he’d known you for years, swam with you for years, and yet seeing you in that bikini still did things to him, no matter how much he tried to tell himself you didn’t feel the same way about him. “She doesn’t feel the same way.”

Mitch let out a heavy sigh and stood up. “You can be so fucking daft sometimes, you know.”

“Y/N tells me all the time.”

“Well, she’s right,” he replied. “Tell her how you feel, Harry. She feels the same way.”

Harry looked up and met his friend’s eyes. “How do you know?”

“I can see it in how she looks at you. You’re blind if you don’t see it too.”

Harry paused. “How…”

“It’s the same way you look at her.”

Harry and Y/N go camping with their friends and the fact that they’ve been in love with each other comes out

The drive out to the country was peaceful. Harry put on a podcast about music on the way and you listened as they analyzed Beyoncé’s Lemonade, pausing it occasionally to ask Harry questions about the technical parts. With the sunshine and Harry’s commentary once the podcast episode ended, the drive to the campgrounds in West Sussex passed quickly.

Harry had booked your camp site last weekend, their trip a last-minute decision. You, Mitch, Sarah, and Nick had all been at Harry’s for a cookout and he’d mentioned wanting to get out in nature before the tour started, and Mitch threw out going camping. Nick took some convincing, but eventually he agreed. You and Nick had managed to get the time off from work, although Nick had to head back a day earlier, and it was settled. You had all left the particulars to Harry and when he texted a link to the campground in their group chat, you had fallen in love. Wooded, no power, cooking over an open fire--it reminded you of camping with your family when you were young.

“Excited?” You asked Harry when you pulled into the parking lot at the front office. You threw the car in park and turned off the ignition, looking over at your best friend.

He grinned back at you, eyes gleaming. You knew he’d been looking forward to this ever since you had first talked about it--he’d been calling you every day to go over the plans and picking out their meals for the weekend. “Psyched.”

You both climbed out of your car, stretching from the drive, and you inhaled the sweet smell of English oak trees, the sound of birds chirping making you smile as widely as Harry. Nick, Sarah, and Mitch were waiting by their cars, and Nick seemed to be animatedly telling a story about who knows what.

“Is Nick being annoying?” You asked, throwing your arm around Nick’s shoulders and ruffling his hair.

“He’s telling the story about the Brits. Again,” Sarah said, reaching out to hug you. “Save us, please.”

“Oi, you’re being mean.” Nick said and Sarah just laughed and shook her head.

Mitch gave you a quick hug and you smiled at him--they’d all been working a lot lately in preparation for the tour. You had barely seen him, Sarah, and Harry, and you missed their presences more than you had realized. “Let’s go see what Harry got us,” you said.

“Spoiled you lot rotten,” Harry said, sliding a pair of sunglasses onto his nose.

“I’d hoped so,” you replied, and Harry chuckled softly before leading the group inside the office.

“Reservation for Y/N,” Harry said to the receptionist and you looked at him in confusion. “Didn’t want anyone finding us,” he explained and you nodded immediately in understanding. After years of friendship, you were used to it, though it always tugged on your heart. You wanted, more than anything, for him to be able to be normal at some point. You knew he craved it too--anonymity.

The receptionist clicked some buttons on her computer before pulling some folders out of a drawer and turning back to you all. “I’ve got three yurts reserved for you all--is that correct?”

Harry’s eyebrows crinkled in confusion. “I had requested four over the phone.”

The receptionist--Martha, according to her badge, frowned. “Oh, I’m so sorry about that. Unfortunately, though, we’re all booked up this weekend. Is there any way three could be made to work?”

That meant someone was going to have to share. Harry looked at you, and then at Nick. “Nick, you good to bunk, mate?”

Nick groaned and you rolled your eyes at him. “Fine, but if you kick me in your sleep I’ll lock you out.”

“I don’t think they have doors, Nick,” you told him.

He looked at you and grimaced. “Zip him out then.”

“How threatening,” Harry said, before looking back to the receptionist. “That’ll be fine.” She nodded and explained the rest of the check-in and check-out policies and the amenities on the site. It seemed perfect--a pub not too far from the grounds, camp fires you was most definitely going to take advantage of, and actual showers. He truly was spoiling you all.

You walked back to the car with Harry to drive to their yurts, swinging your keys around your finger in thought. “H,” you said when you sat down in the driver’s seat.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for bunking with Nick. I know you like your own space, so I appreciate it.”

He gave you a wide smile and you couldn’t help it--it warmed every part of you. It was moments like these you struggled to remember that Harry was just your friend. Nothing more. You’d dated people, he’d dated people, and you two were just friends. But then he’d look at you like this and you wanted more. “‘Course, love.” He reached across the console and gave your hand a quick squeeze, and your heart flopped in your chest.

You were starved for touch--it’d been months since you broke up with your asshole of an ex and you were desperate to be touched, even if it was someone holding your hand. Usually you could count on Harry for some cuddles and tight hugs, but he’d been so busy practicing for tour that you hadn’t seen him much. Just FaceTime and the occasional meet-up at the café by your office on your lunch break and it seemed to be showing.

You started the engine and prayed to the Gods that they would help you get through this weekend in one piece.

The yurts were in a quiet part of the campground, secluded and in a thicket of trees. All you could hear was the sound of wind whistling through the leaves and the chirping of birds. After living in London for the past two years and barely leaving, it was a relief to be able to hear nothing but nature.

Nick let out a whoop when he opened the door to his car. “God, this is gorgeous, isn’t it?” Sarah and Mitch pulled up a second later and you all wandered around the campground, deciding where you would put your chairs (around the campfire, obviously) and what you wanted to eat for dinner. Then, you started to unpack. You claimed the tent closer to the woods, wanting not to be awoken in the middle of the night if cars drove by and to get away from the group if you went to bed early, something that you had a tendency towards when Nick and Harry were together.

The sound of the yurt being zipped open caused you to look up from where you were checking to see if there were bed bugs. After getting them when you were 13 on a family trip, you always checked. “This going to be okay for you?” Harry stood hunched over, his head poking into your yurt. His shirt was unbuttoned, the beige linen flowing in the soft breeze, and his hair flopped into his face. His green eyes were gleaming, a look he only got on break or on holiday, and it was your favorite look on him. He looked just unperturbed and blissfully happy.

“Come in, silly,” you said, turning around and flopping down onto the bed. “It’s perfect, H.”

Harry grinned and dropped down next to you. “Comfy, eh?”

“Very.”

“I should plan every holiday at this rate.”

You whacked him with the pillow. The last holiday you had planned and the hotel had ended up being bad and their reservation for their yacht trip fully did not exist when they showed up. It was a disaster and Harry had yet to let you live it down. “Now you’re just fishing for compliments.”

“What? I like planning!”

“And you like being complimented.”

Harry huffed and you just smiled at him. After knowing one another for years, not only did you know everything important about Harry, you also knew how to push his buttons. Calling him out for what you had longed believed to be some kind of praise kink (you’d asked him about if while drunk and he’d looked so confused and embarrassed you dropped it) was the number one way to get him riled up.

“How’s your tent with Grimmy?”

“He’s already asleep.”

“It’s noon.”

“Apparently he didn’t sleep last night.”

You laughed because it was classic Nick. It happened on almost every holiday you went on together, of which there had been a few. He’d get to wherever you were staying and immediately fall asleep for usually the rest of the day. You all usually just left him where he was and went about your business, but he also usually had his own room. “Were you able to put your stuff down at least?”

Harry shrugged. “Just dropped my suitcase on the ground and left him. I’ll wake him up eventually.” He turned his head and looked at you, his head so close that if you turned your head up ever so slightly, you could probably kiss him.

“Fancy a swim?” You asked him, sitting up suddenly and trying to push the thought away.

“Fuck yes,” he replied. “Let me change into my suit.”

The sun was out in full force when you jumped into the lake, your towels and clothes abandoned on the edge of the water. You were lying on your back, eyes closed, basking in the feeling of sun on your skin. Mitch and Sarah were swimming around--you could hear them chattering about how Sarah wanted a dog and Mitch wasn’t into the idea--but you didn’t know where Harry was. You couldn’t hear him. Maybe he’d swam a little further away?

You pushed the thoughts from your mind and focused on not thinking about anything, which somehow took a significant amount of effort. Work kept trying to drift into your head--had the office finished the pitch that you had left for them on Thursday? It was a big account and you had put your all into it, but you hadn’t finished the final touches on Thursday before you had to leave the office, so you left it for your coworkers to wrap up on your behalf. Hopefully they didn’t half-ass it.

Suddenly, fingers wrapped around your waist and you were being flipped onto your stomach, water immediately filling your nose and mouth. You snapped up, water flicking from the ends of your hair, and blinked the droplets away so you could see who had done it.

Harry.

“You bastard!” You screeched, shoving him. His skin was slick from the sunscreen and water, and you tried not to focus on the feeling of his arm muscles under your palms. “I could’ve drowned!”

“You were a competitive swimmer, Y/N,” he reminded you, chuckling. “You weren’t going to drown.”

You sputtered, slicking your hair back, and then gave him a death stare. “Still. You’re an ass.”

“That’s not news,” Sarah piped up from where she and Mitch were treading water and laughing at what had just happened.

“This is true.” You gave Harry another look before shoving a wave of water in his direction, splashing water into his face.

Harry gasped, wiping water from his face, his hair, which had grown longer in the past few weeks while he’d been on break, sticking to his forehead. He looked like a little kid, despite how muscular he’d become in the past year or so. You tried to not linger on it, but when he was in front of you without a shirt on, sun-kissed skin just begging to be looked it, it was quite difficult. “This is war.”

He shoved water at you, and suddenly you were splashing one another like children, both of you screeching as water got into your eyes. Your feet collided underwater, arms hitting each other as you twirled around each other in the water, trying to surprise one another.

It was all fun and games until Harry’s hand reached out and accidentally hit you right in the boob.

“Harry!” You called out, swatting him. “You just hit me in the boob.”

“Fuck, sorry,” he said. “You okay?”

“Just sore,” you said, swimming a bit farther away from him. “Meanie.”

Harry gave you his puppy dog eyes, lashes blinking at you, plump lips sticking out ever so slightly. You hated when he did this because you always fell for it. Years of friendship and you still couldn’t hold anything against him when he did this because he just looked so goddamn gorgeous. You hated it. “Sorry?”

“Fine,” you said, “but you’re carrying me the whole way back to the campsite.”

You all ended up grilling burgers over the fire, Harry surprising you with some hidden skills over the open fire, and together the four of you drank beers as the fire glowed between them. Nick had never surfaced and Harry didn’t have it in him to wake him, so he let him be. Harry, Sarah, and Mitch had started playing music after dinner and you kept yourself entertained by requesting old One Direction songs, which made Harry stare daggers at you but amused you, Sarah, and Mitch to no end.

It was a chilly summer night and you were cuddled up in a sweatshirt of Harry’s, having forgotten yours at home, and a pair of leggings. You could feel your eyes drooping, your entire concept of time gone without the ability to check your phone. It could’ve been 9pm for all you knew. After a rendition of Landslide, you yawned and stretched your arms above your head, and decided to call it a night.

“I’m going to turn in,” you said, standing up from the chair you’d been in for the past few hours. “Which way’s the bathrooms?”

Sarah pointed to the right, and you nodded. You had to brush your teeth and pee before you could go to sleep, and you had no desire to traipse through the woods at night to pee in the brush, so you started off in the direction of the bathrooms, your toiletries bag tucked under your arm.

“Wait!” You turned to see Harry walking after you, his own bag tucked under his arm. “Didn’t want you to walk alone.”

You gave him a sweet smile and waited for him to catch up with you. “You ready for sleep too?”

He shrugged. “Probably be up for a little while longer, if that’s not too disruptive? Mitch and I thought we’d work on a song I’ve been thinking about. Thought I’d go ahead and brush my teeth, though.”

“I like listening to you play as I go to bed,” you said, the words leaving your mouth before you thought about them.

Harry’s eyebrows knit together and he studied you. “Never told me that before.”

Probably because it’s embarrassing, you thought to yourself. You loved listening to his music before you went to bed, especially the voice memos he’d sent you over the years of bits of songs he was working on before they were fully mastered. They were more raw, less produced, the stripped down Harry that you loved. “You never asked.”

He filed that information away for later and you climbed the steps to the bathrooms, both heading into the same free stall. You’d stopped caring about peeing in front of one another a long time ago. You went first, listening to Harry prattle on about a book he was reading that he thought you’d like as he washed his face. When you finished up, you switched places and you started brushing your teeth, stealing his toothpaste because it tasted nicer.

“You should just buy some for yourself,” he commented.

“But I can use yours for free.”

He didn’t reply, just let you be, and you brushed your teeth next to one another, Harry knocking his hip against yours to make you smile.

“Glad you came,” he told you when you exited the bathrooms.

“Me too. Needed this, I think.”

“Same. Missed you, too.”

You studied his face, barely visible in the moonlight. His stubble was growing in, but he had a peaceful expression you rarely saw in him. You saw it in moments on tour, sometimes--when you were cuddled up on his sofa watching a film after a show, or after a morning run on a day off. But here, this was the purest form and one you wished you saw more often. You didn’t tell him, though. You’d had that conversation before--how you were worried he was overworking himself, believing that he was able to work so much after years in 1D, working with barely any breaks. You wanted his solo career to be different, but Harry had a tendency to find work even when he wasn’t touring or recording. He loved it so much that it was all he wanted to do. “Missed you too,” you replied simply, and leaned into him when he wrapped an arm around your shoulders.

Mitch set down his guitar and looked at Harry across the fire from him.

“What?”

“When are you going to tell Y/N?”

Mitch let out a heavy sigh and stood up. “You can be so fucking daft sometimes, you know.”

“Y/N tells me all the time.”

“Well, she’s right,” he replied. “Tell her how you feel, Harry. She feels the same way.”

Harry looked up and met his friend’s eyes. “How do you know?”

“I can see it in how she looks at you. You’re blind if you don’t see it too.”

Harry paused. “How…”

“It’s the same way you look at her.”

With that, Mitch turned and went to where Sarah waited for him in their yurt, leaving Harry alone with his thoughts. It was quiet, aside from the crinkle of the fire. Harry couldn’t remember when he fell in love with Y/N--there wasn’t some specific moment like they say in the books. It just...happened. The more time he spent with you, the closer you got, the more Harry hated leaving you. And when you dated other guys, it made his stomach turn to be around them. He tried to pretend like it didn’t, he tried to be nice and polite as you were to the girls he tried to date, but he knew he never was. He hated the way you would look at him when he’d make some snide remark, and he could feel the disappointment radiating from your stare. And yet, he couldn’t bring himself to let you go.

He’d tried to bury himself in work, in touring, in women. He’d lived in LA for months to try and get over you, he’d even dated Kendall fucking Jenner to try and get over you. Nothing helped. Camille had been the closest he’d gotten, but there had always been something holding him back. When he’d found out she cheated on him, it was a relief more than heartbreak--he didn’t have to be the one to break up with her this time. And he always went back to you, pretending to be more broken hearted than he was just to get you to spend days on end by his side, eating ice cream and watching films that you thought helped him. In actuality, it was you who helped him. It was being by your side, it was laughing with you, going on walks, even fucking gardening with you at his house in Hampstead. Anything with you healed him.

And he knew it wasn’t fair, using you like he did. But he couldn’t help himself--it was the time when he could almost pretend you were his. It was when you ignored everything else and focused on only him and that attention is what he craved. You, together, no distractions. It’s what he wanted this weekend to be, but then you suggested inviting friends, and how could he say no to you? How could he tell you he just wanted to be with you for the whole weekend, the rest of the world forgotten?

Mitch’s words, though, were a stab in his heart. He’d always convinced himself that there was no way you could feel the same. You had fallen in love, you’d told him. With Tom. Bloody Tom. You’d met at some networking dinner and he’d asked you out, and from then on it was Tom, Tom, Tom. You had dated for a little over a year and Harry despised every second of it. Tom treated you like dirt--belittling you in front of your friends, in front of Harry, even, controlled your time and your friends. Boxed you in like you were some animal just there to please him, no life to speak of. It had happened while Harry was on tour and then in LA, so he hadn’t been there in person for most of it, and when he had been around you two together--whe he came home for the holidays and saw you, you had played it off. Said it was nothing, just a joke.

But then her college roommate Jordan had called Harry, worried out of her mind about you. Told him how Tom treated you, all the things he’d done, how he’d manipulated you--hit you one time. Jordan was in New York City and work wouldn’t let her leave, but she knew Harry could go. She told him it was getting bad and he had to get you out. And so he did. He took the next flight out, barely packed a suitcase, and went. He went to your apartment and told you that Jordan had told him what happened, and you two had a massive fight over it, you defending Tom, Harry trying to convince you he had manipulated your thoughts, your emotions, your feelings, and you both ended up in tears before you finally let him take you to his house to stay for a few weeks. And together, you’d pieced his fierce Y/N back together.

And all that time, he had never thought...He never thought you’d loved him. Not as he did, at least. You’d told him so many times that you loved him, but it was just as a friend. You’d made that clear in the ways you touched him and introduced him to people. He was your Harry, but just your friend. Your best friend, but friend all the same. It broke him, as much as he tried not to let it show. But for you to feel the same way? All this time?

And what did Mitch expect him to do? Bust into your tent and admit his undying love for you, you to admit you felt the same way, and for you to ride off into the night together? This wasn’t some romance novel (which Harrry knew Mitch read, even though he tried to hide them). This was reality, and in reality, it was just Harry, writing songs about you that you’d never understand the true meaning of, and a yurt shared with Grimmy.

He stood up, his guitar held tightly in his hand, and put out the fire before heading into the yurt. Nick was spread eagle on the bed, still somehow asleep--Harry had never understood his ability to sleep literally all day--and snoring. Loudly. Harry sighed and went over to his suitcase, tugging off his jeans and sweatshirt and folding them neatly into the case. He pulled a henley and pajama pants on, knowing if Nick woke up to a half naked Harry in his bed he’d most definitely not let him hear the end of it, and walked over to the bed. He tried to shove Nick over and make space for himself, but the man was most definitely stronger than Harry had realized.

Had he been working out lately?

Harry gave his arm another shove, but Nick didn’t even flinch. “Fuck you, Nick,” Harry said. “Do you have to seriously sleep like the dead?”

He looked around the room, trying to see if there was anything he could fashion a makeshift bed with. But there wasn’t even a spare fucking blanket.

Maybe Sarah and Mitch would have one? Then he pictured walking into the couple’s yurt and immediately decided against that idea. That left you. You’d slept in the same bed before, albeit usually while drunk--maybe you’d let him sleep with you? Just for the night?

Harry slipped on his flip flops, grabbed his flashlight and made his way over to your yurt. It was quiet except for the sound of your soft breathing and he immediately felt at peace, despite what his mind told him. He unzipped the front of your yurt and stuck his head in. It was dark and he could barely make out your figure, curled up tightly under the covers, hair strewn across the pillow.

“Y/N?”

After a beat, he saw your body shift and your head stick up from the pillow. “Harry?”

“Can I sleep with you? Nick’s taking up the whole bed and snoring like a train.”

You giggled--and Harry’s heart started racing--and then said, “Of course. C’mere.” You lifted the edge of the blanket and Harry toed off his flip flops before walking over to the bed. “What time is it?”

He laid down next to you carefully, not wanting to brush up against you and make you uncomfortable. “Dunno. Late.”

You reached out for him, fingers brushing against his henley right over his stomach, and Harry’s heart seized. Did you know what you were doing to him right now? “Why are you lying there straight as a rod? I don’t bite, you know.” Probably not, he realized. You had no idea what the mere touch of your skin did to his heart.

“Don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” he said, his voice quiet in the silence of the yurt.

“You don’t, silly. Now c’mere.”

He moved closer to you and you turned onto your side so that your back rested against his chest, and he wound his arm around your stomach loosely, holding you to him. You’d laid like this before, after your birthday earlier in the year when you’d gotten quite drunk and he’d brought you home so you didn’t choke in your own vomit. You’d snuggled into him then, just like you did now, and he tried to think of anything to get his dick to stop from plumping up under his pants.

“H?”

“Yeah?”

“What was your song about?”

His breath caught in his throat. Had you heard it? It was so obviously about you, so unabashedly telling you how he felt. God, every song was about you. Even when he tried to make them less specific, when he tried to remove the details that would make it about you, you still left a residue.

“Harry?” Your voice broke his thoughts, so sweet in his ears. He opened his eyes, which had closed while he thought, and looked into your hair. He could smell the remnants of your perfume mixed with the fresh smell of oak from the woods and the essence of smoke from the fire. He wanted to bury himself in your smell, in you.

He should tell you. He knew he should. It was the perfect time--you were giving him the prompting. But he didn’t have the courage. “Did we wake you up?”

You rolled over and suddenly your face was mere inches from his. He could see your eyes in the dark, bright blue in the night. The ones that were painted in his dreams, echoes of you that never let him go. “Thought I heard something in the woods. Heard you instead.”

How much had you heard, he wondered. Had you heard his conversation with Mitch? You had been asleep when he had come into the yurt, so you had to have fallen back asleep. “What’d you think of it?”

You stared at him, your gaze searing through the protections he tried and struggled to keep up. “It was sad,” you said simply.

“Hmm?” He mumbled, not really knowing what else to say to that. Of course it was sad, he was in love with his best friend and he didn’t have the balls to tell her.

“The opening lines,” you whispered. “Put a price on emotion/I'm looking for something to buy/You've got my devotion/But man, I can hate you sometimes,” you sang it, perfectly in tune, hitting every note as he had around the campfire with Mitch. Your voice singing his words broke him in two, for some reason. They were the most honest ones of the whole song, he thought to himself, and the ones he was least likely to change. “Who is it about?”

Her question had changed. When you asked the first time, it was what. Now it was who. He studied you in the dark, searching himself. Could he muster the courage?

“Camille?”

“No,” he said, his words immediate. “No, not Camille.”

There was a rustle of the trees, but your eyes didn’t leave his. “Are you seeing someone new?”

“No.”

“Then who?”

He took a deep breath, and then, he pulled the words from the depths of his heart. “It’s about you.”

It was silent in the yurt. He couldn’t even tell if you were breathing. But your eyes didn’t leave his. He watched as your brain processed his words, pieced them together, matched them up with the song.

“Test of my patience/There's things that we'll never know/You sunshine, you temptress/My hand's at risk, I fold.” You said the words, no song to them, just words, flowing from your lips as poetry, not lyrics. “You...Me. Things we’ll never know--that’s us?”

He nodded, resisting the urge to reach out and brush a strand of hair behind your ear that had come loose.

“You've got my devotion,” you whispered, the opening lines coming back around. “That’s about me?”

“Yes,” he said, the word simple, soft, quiet in the dark. But it took every ounce of his courage. It was worse than when he’d decided to go solo, it was worse than going out on stage alone for the first time, worse than stepping on the X-Factor stage. The hardest words he’d had to say. “Y/N,” he whispered, summoning the last of his courage, “the songs are all about you.”

That made you go quiet for longer. You stared at him, taking inventory of every part of his face. He could feel your eyes and he didn’t even squirm--it felt different than it did when you usually looked at him. It felt like you were seeing him for the first time. Like a veil had been lifted between them.

And yet, you said nothing.

“Do you want me to go?” He asked, the words breaking him. “I--I can go.”

But you pressed your fingers to his chin, instead. “Don’t go,” you whispered and this time it was him who stared at you. “I--I’m scared.”

“I know.” Your eyes blinked at him, eye level, so close he could see nothing but the rim of the blue, your long eyelashes he’d always admired. “I just...I can’t pretend anymore, love.” The nickname, long used between them, suddenly took on a new meaning in this moment. He could feel the shift in the air, the way the word landed between them. It slipped from his lips without him thinking about it, but he meant it in every which way.

You ran your forefinger along the edge of his jaw and Harry’s breath caught in his chest. “Me either.”

And then, you pulled his lips down to meet yours and it was like Harry’s world bottomed out. Your lips were soft, just like he’d imagined them, and you tasted like sugar and the watermelons they’d had for a snack after dinner. The hint of toothpaste lingered and it made him smile, remembering how you’d spoken in the bathroom. His fingers wound their way into your hair and you let out a soft moan that set Harry’s skin on fire.

Your teeth tugged on his bottom lip and Harry rolled you onto you back with a groan, begging for more, for anything you would give him. The kiss was deep, passionate, without end. You barely pulled away to breathe, wanting to never stop touching him. Your fingers crawled up his arms, across his collarbones, fire left in their wake.

Harry balanced above you on his forearms, head dipping to meet your lips over and over again, his fingers curled into your hair that was spread out on the pillow. Your legs tugged apart, letting him slot himself between them, leaning into you. It was like a dream he didn’t want to wake up from.

“Y/N,” he said, pulling back from your lips just an inch so he could speak. “I--I don’t want to do anything if you don’t--”

“I want you,” you said, your hands drifting from his shoulders to cup his face between them. He leaned into your touch and you smoothed your fingers across his cheekbones. “I’ve always wanted you. H, you’re everything to me.”

His lips found yours again without a second beat, and you pulled every ounce of his heart from his chest with your lips. The sheets rustled under their bodies as they moved, begging to get more and more of each other. Your hands wound under his shirt, tugging as he leaned back, pulling it off, the chilly night air nipping at his skin. You sat up, Harry balanced precariously on your lap, and pressed kisses to his skin, licking over his swallows.

Harry let out a moan, not being able to hold it in, but didn’t stop her as you made your way across his skin, claiming it as your own. He couldn’t hear anything but you--it was consuming, the feeling of being this close to you. Your teeth bit into the skin on his collarbones, sucking a bruise he knew would be there tomorrow, and he couldn’t find it in himself to care. He wanted the world to know he was yours, that he loved you with every fiber of his being, unashamedly.

“I’m yours,” he said, his voice edging on a moan as you licked across his nipples. “Yours, Y/N, I’m yours.”

“And I’m yours,” you replied, and leaned back, tugging off his sweatshirt, which you’d worn to bed. You were bare underneath, and you could feel Harry’s eyes on your skin, learning you. Usually, you felt studied under the gaze of a man, but now, with Harry, you felt admired, adored, loved. His hands kneaded circles into your breasts and you arched into him, moans leaving your mouth in breaths.

You felt his tongue on your nipples, just as you had done to him, and your fingers gripped into the curls of his hair. “Fuck, H.”

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, pressing kisses to your sternum. “So, utterly beautiful.”

You leaned back onto your hands, chest rising and falling as he made his way down your body, inching farther and farther back on the bed until he was on his stomach, lips hovering above the waistband of your sleep shorts. His eyes met yours in question, and you nodded, words failing you.

“Need to hear your words, love,” he said, kissing your bare skin just centimeters above the bow on her shorts. “Want to make sure that you’re sure.”

“Take them off,” you said, struggling to speak as he licked your skin. “Touch me, H, please.”

And he did. He tugged your shorts down your legs, underwear coming with them, and pressed kisses to the inside of your thighs, nipping love bites into the skin there. “You know, I dreamed of you last week,” he said against your skin.

“What?” You squealed as he sucked on the sensitive skin at the crease of your thighs.

“Of you, like this.” Then, he licked a stripe up her clit and you buried your hands in his hair, holding him there. “But in the dream, I couldn’t smell you.” He sucked on your clit, and you struggled not to scream his name. Your friends would hear and the last thing you wanted was to deal with that in the morning. “I couldn’t hear you,” he said, licking you again, and your head flailed to the side. “And I woke up before I could do this.”

And then, he dove his tongue inside of you, and you pressed a hand to your mouth, holding in the moans that begged to fly free. It was heaven, his tongue. Delving into her like it was made for you, curling inside of you and rubbing the front of your walls delicately.

“Harry,” you said, trying to keep your voice quiet, “more, please.”

He wasted no time pressing his finger to your clit and rubbing you in circles, causing your chest to arch from the pleasure. You could feel a knot building in your belly, begging and begging for more.

“Please, H,” you let out in a moan, and that’s when you felt his own moan against your skin, the vibration of the stubble on your skin causing you to shake against him. But his free hand anchored your hips to his lips, and he continued his work, licking in and out of you, then up and down your folds, drawing soft moans from your mouth over and over again.

“Wanna hear you,” he said softly against your skin, “please, love, wanna hear you.”

“Don’t want to wake them,” you replied, struggling to look down at him. But when you did, the sight of his head between your thighs, hair a mess, eyes gleaming up at you in the dark, it ripped a moan from your chest that you couldn’t contain.

“That’s it,” he said. “Don’t give a fuck about them. S’just us, yeah?” He kneaded circles into her skin with his hands and sucked harshly on her clit, your hips bucking in response, but he didn’t let go. “What d’ya want, love?”

His words were rough, broken from pleasure. You loved the way he sounded, having never had the opportunity to have him this way. “Fingers,” you said. “I’m close.”

“Yeah?” His one hand left her hips and circled your entrance, drawing your wetness around his fingers. “Fuck, love, you’re so wet.”

“H,” you breathed out, “please.”

That’s all he needed. He dipped his forefinger inside of you, your tight walls gripping him like a vice. But to him, you were virtue--you were everything to him, everything good in the world wrapped up in a single person. He curled his finger, brushing against a spot that made you squeak and he smiled before adding a second finger. “Come for me, love,” he said, sucking on your clit. “Wanna taste you.”

And that’s all it took. Your orgasm washed over you like a wave, your hands gripped in his hair, keeping his face there as he licked your clit softly, drawing shock waves from your body over and over again. You struggled to keep your eyes open, wanting to watch him as you came, and he held your eye contact as you did. When he pulled his fingers from you and sucked on them, you just stared at him, wondering if this was real. If he was real.

“Taste sweet,” he said, crawling up your body, pushing you down onto the bed with the weight of him. You loved it, the feeling of his skin on yours, of his body on yours. “With an edge of sourness.” He pressed his lips to yours, and you licked into his mouth, tasting yourself on his tongue. You hadn’t been this turned on...ever, you realized. “Tastes good,” he said against your lips.

You smiled, running your fingers through his hair. “Felt good too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You’re good at that, you know.”

He chuckled at you and pressed a kiss to your cheeks. “Can’t wait to do it again.”

You captured his lips again, arms winding around his chest, pulling him into you, closer and closer until you couldn’t find the space between you. And then, you rolled, taking him with her, leaving him on his back and you flush to his chest. “Some other time,” you said softly, drawing back. “I want you.”

“Fuck,” he let out, gaze travelling up your body as you sat back on his hips, bare center brushing over his pajama pants. “Want you too, baby.”

You smirked at him. “Baby?”

He blushed. “Sorry, it just--”

“Shh.” You pressed a finger to his lips. “I like it.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm.” You rolled your hips over his erection and he bucked up into you, not being able to stop himself, drawing groans from both of them. “Wanna hear you, H,” you whispered, tossing his words back at him. “Hmm?”

“Take ‘em off.” He bucked his hips again, and you smiled down at him. Your fingers curled around his pants and his underwear, and crawled back, pulling them off together in one motion, just as he had done to you.

You held him in your hand, brushing your thumb over his tip, the pre-cum slick against your skin. Your tongue licked a stripe up the underside of him, drawing a moan from his chest as you laved circles around the tip of his length.

“Y/N,” he breathed, “Not gonna last if you keep doing that,” he said. “Need--”

“I know,” you replied. You pressed another kiss to him and clamored back up his body. “Wouldn’t have happened to bring condoms, would you?”

“Fuck,” he said, “no, wasn’t exactly planning this.”

You pressed a kiss to his chest, trying to calm the panicked look in his eyes. His hands ran up and down your thighs, his touch consuming you. “I’ve got the implant,” you said, “if that’s ok with you.”

“I’ll pull out,” he said, leaning up on his elbows. “Promise.” Then your lips found each other’s and you rocked your hips against him, the slick of you dripping down onto his length. He swallowed your moans and you did the same, the dark of the night wrapping around you, encasing you in a world that was just the two of you.

You reached down and ran your fingertips along his length, brushing his tip against your slit, the feeling sending tingles down her spine.

“Please,” he begged beneath you, fingers digging into your hips to where there would probably be marks tomorrow, “please, Y/N.”

When you slid down his length, your eyes shut from the sensation of him stretching you. You didn’t stop until he had bottomed out, you hips flush against one another. You could feel his eyes watching as you adjusted to his size, to the burn of him inside of you. It was surreal to have him like this, to have him so close to that you couldn’t find where you ended and he began. To have his lips find yours as you began to rock back and forth on him, open mouths meeting like old friends, begging for more and more and more. It was heaven, you decided, this was heaven on earth, this feeling. Your head snapped back when he bucked up into you, hitting a deep spot that made your arms shake. And then he ran his tongue down your exposed neck, nipping and biting into your skin, whispers of your name like an echo around them.

You wanted all of him. Every single part of him, you wanted to have his laughter and his smile and his words and his thoughts and his love. You wanted his body in the morning and the night and across the distance. You wanted him to hold you in his arms always, to care always. To you, he was hope, he was a bright spot in a sea of darkness. He was the antithesis of your exes, of Tom, of the men who had used you up and left you in a bed of nails. Harry built you up, stoking your fire with actions that showed you how much he cared, never wavering from your side, always running back when you called. No matter how far he went, the residue of him never left your mind, body, or soul.

Harry’s arms caged you in and suddenly you were on your back and he was above you and inside of you and everywhere. His fingers danced across you skin as his hips snapped into you, moans drying in your throat because you could barely think from the pleasure zipping through your body.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he said, words darting through the fog, “I love you.” He was holding you so tightly in his arms that you wondered if he thought you would run. As if you wanted to be anywhere else but here, beneath him, close to him, breathing him in and out.

“I love you too.” The words left you without hesitation and you pressed your lips back to his as you chased your highs together, his hips never stopping. He pulled one of your legs high on his hip, reaching a new depth inside of you, and you scrabbled at his back with your fingers, leaving marks in your wake. “Right there,” you whispered against his shoulder, biting softly into the skin there.

He pistoned his hips in and out, hitting the spot over and over again. “Yeah? Right there, baby?”

You had always joked he had a praise kink, but now that you had him, you knew you were right and good lord did you feed right into it. “So good,” you mumbled, “so good Harry, please don’t stop.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied, tongue darting to the spot under your ear when you turned hyourer head, choking on a moan when he thumbed your clit. “You’re so beautiful, Y/N. Gonna tell you every day. Never going to stop now that I have you. Finally.”

You dug into his ass with your heels, keeping him deep inside of you. Hands grabbed skin, and you basked in the heat that surrounded you, the sweat that stuck their skin together. It was perfect--he was perfect, he felt perfect, it was as if you were made for one another. Somehow, every movement he made was better, he navigated your body like he had the only compass and it was carved into his heart.

Every part of you ached, ached for him and for release. You could feel it rising inside of you, taught like a string, begging. “Oh my god,” you whined, spasming around him. Your hand gripped the back of his neck and dragged his head back to you, fingers digging into his warm skin. Your lips met as he pumped into you over and over, drawing moans from them both that never stopped. You loved that he made noise in bed, that he told you how good you felt, that he made sure you knew how incredible it was. Every kiss pressed to your clammy skin was a reminder of how much he loved you.

“Fuck.” A guttural moan escaped him when you clamped down on his length, your orgasm threatening to rip through you. “Not going to last, baby.” His forehead rested against yours as he dug into the sheets with his fingers and toes, using every ounce of his energy to bring you both to the brink. Your fingers scratched against his shoulder blades, gripping him close as you arched into him.

“I’m close,” you said, words ragged, “so close.”

“Come,” he breathed out, “please, Y/N.”

You pressed a kiss to his brow, the salt of his sweat against your lips. “Come inside me,” you whispered to his skin. “Want to feel you.”

His head turned, eyes meeting yours. “Sure?”

You dug your heels into his ass in response, gripping him like a vice to you. A moan ripped through him as he dug deep inside of you, pulling every piece of your love from her chest, just as you did to him. Then, he kissed you again, your name a mantra against your lips, and with that, your orgasm ripped through your body.

He chased it with every brush of his hips, running after you as you soared and fell. You held him close as you came down, struggling to find your breath. But you didn’t want him to move. You wanted to feel him, to see him, to hear him finish. And when he did, it was the most beautiful sight you’d ever seen. His eyes bore into yours, teeth dug into his bottom lip so deep it probably drew blood, fingers curling tightly into the sheets on either side of your shoulders. Slowly, his hips came to a halt and you could feel his cum inside of you. The air was silent except for your breathing as he rested his body against you, not pulling out.

You two laid there together, your arms wound around his waist, running your fingers up and down his back, his fingers threading through your hair. It was as if you were waiting for the words, because neither of you had them. What do you say after that?

Harry moved to pull out of you, but you held him fast. “Please,” you whispered, “just…”

He shushed you, knowing what you meant. You wanted him close. After denying your feelings for so long it was like they were consuming every inch of you, overwhelming your brain and your heart. Having him close helped tether you to the ground and you couldn’t let go. Not yet.

“Love you,” he said softly into your hair. “Love you so much, Y/N.”

You pressed a kiss to his shoulder. “Love you too.”

“Think they heard?”

You giggled against his skin and you could feel his smile. “Probably. Don’t care that much, though.”

“Me either.”

You were quiet for a second before mustering the courage to ask the question swirling through your brain. “You’re not going to leave in the morning, right?”

He lifted his head and looked at you. “Never.” Then, he pressed a soft kiss against your lips and tucked his head into the space between your shoulder and your neck, his breath even against your skin.

And you both laid there, adjusting to what it felt like to finally have the one person you’d always wanted, praying that when the sun rose nothing would change.

talk to me about camping!harry here | masterlist here

#the bucketlist fic challenge #friends to lovers and camping all in one babies!!!!#friends to lovers #camping!harry #Harry Styles Fan Fiction #Harry Styles #harry styles fic #harry styles smut #harry smut #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles drabble #harry styles one shot

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raendown · 3 years ago

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Fandom: Marvel Pairing: SamBucky Word count: 2070 Rated: T+ Summary: Steve had only just been thinking about how much he missed his best friend when his phone started ringing. Great minds think alike! Except apparently Bucky had meant to call someone else entirely and Steve was not at all prepared for the discovery of this baffling - but adorable - secret.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

From Where You Are

He may have staunchly denied it every time Tony or Natasha or anyone else teased him for it but Steve knew damn well that he had a - very slight! - penchant for dramatics. Dramatics like slamming an entire plane down in to the icy ocean rather than just turning the damn thing around and flying in circles until Peggy or Howard came up with the latest madcap rescue plan. Yeah. He was a self aware guy. Which meant he knew exactly how much teasing he would get if he so much as dared to open his mouth and complain about life on the run.

Because as well as Steve knew himself, his friends knew him better. He might be lucky to get a whole three words in to his sentence before any of the people he currently had available to listen would guess exactly what he was really complaining about. He missed Bucky. So sue him! He’d already spent seventy years thinking his best friend was dead and then another two knowing he was out there but not exactly all there. Now finally he knew exactly where Bucky was. He knew that Bucky knew exactly who he was. They could be best friends again.

Through video calls only.

Steve clenched his jaw against the urge to close both eyes and whine at the unfairness of it all. Leaving Bucky in Wakanda had been the right choice for everyone but that didn’t mean he had to like it. Could the world maybe stop being so unfair for just five damn minutes? Give a guy a chance to reunite properly with the one thing that had centered the first couple decades of his life? Maybe get a hug or two in while Bucky was only one-armed and half defenseless against a few rounds of proper manly affection? It didn’t sound like too much to ask. Yet here he was sitting up just past midnight trying to calculate time zones to figure out if maybe he could get a quick call in now that Sam and Natasha were falling asleep. If he snuck out on to the balcony he might be able to avoid waking them and therefore avoid the inevitable teasing over his ‘very obvious pining’.

So lost in his own head was he that Steve nearly threw his phone against the wall when it began signing in his hand. It took a slow blink or two for his thoughts to clear enough that he understood no, he had not called Bucky out of rote habit, Bucky was calling him. Score one for that mental best friend bond he’d heard the other two joking about the other day. Steve was smiling as he accepted the call and held it up at an angle he hoped would get his face properly.

“Hey, Buc- oh my god, are you okay?”

Small on the screen and folding in to himself like he was trying to be just as small in person, Bucky’s eyes were wild where they stared somewhat just over top of whatever device he’d used to call from. He took several ragged breaths in and let them all out a little too heavily before he could speak.

“No.”

“I’m here, pal, what’s up?”

“Can you- where’s Sam?”

Steve felt his eyebrows lift up together. “Uh, Sam? Is in the next room. Why?”

A good question, he felt, since in the eight or so months since they had all last been together in Wakanda, Bucky had never once so much as breathed Sam’s name during these scattered video calls. Steve had seen them have maybe two conversations in the palace and both of those had been stilted as hell. Two men dancing around the fact that they’d both tried to kill each other on several occasions. Now here was Bucky jerking his eyes over to look directly at the camera and Steve had never seen him look so haunted before. Which, really, was saying something.

“I want to talk to Sam,” he said, voice quiet, aching with something Steve hadn’t heard before. They had talked about Bucky having nightmares. He’d just never seen one, not even the aftermath. Bucky had been a keep-it-close-to-the-chest guy long before what happened with HYDRA.

“Uh, okay. Sure. He might be asleep but I’ll just- yeah.”

Feeling more than a little confused, he did just that. Stood and marched to the door with a single minded purpose that could only come with being given a mission. Bucky wanted to talk to Sam and he might not understand why but he was going to make that happen even if he had to wake the man up.

Thankfully, he did not have to wake the man up, although if he’d waited even a single full minute longer that might have been the case. Sam hadn’t even taken the time to undress or properly get in to what passed as his bed for tonight. He was still sitting half slumped against the wall on a little nest of blankets, carefully positioned in exactly the opposite corner from Natasha because one simply did not sleep next to a Russian super spy knowing that the slightest disturbance would send her in to full mission mode in less than five seconds. Besides, Sam had laughed when he pointed that out, I’m a serial sleep cuddler and I don’t think that’s a great idea here. Who knows how many knives she’s got under her pillow?

“Sam?” Fond amusement rippled through the layers of worry as Steve watched his friend’s head loll towards him, indolent and exhausted. “Hey, uh, Bucky’s on a call. He wants...to talk to you?” That got a reaction. His eyes cracked open to take in the phone Steve was holding out and his chin lifted faintly in greeting.

“Hey man,” he ground out, voice coarse with near-sleep. “‘Nother nightmare?”

“Can you tell me a story?” Bucky asked.

Steve very nearly dropped the phone. He almost dropped it again when Sam, without any external reaction whatsoever, immediately launched in with, “So you know that guy Dwayne I was telling you about? From homeroom? God, lemme tell you about how stupid this guy is. We’re at prom, right? And there’s this honey he’s had his eyes on for like three months only she went to prom with Harry Murdock- yeah, you know, the quarterback. Fuckin’ quarterbacks, man.”

It was kind of like watching something his own weird dreams might come up with. A sequence of events that made very little sense once you’d woken up and tried to piece it all back together. Sam’s eyes gradually slid closed again but his mouth just kept going like this was all totally normal, like he often spent his nights sitting up and telling Bucky random stories about the other kids he’d gone to highschool with. And on the opposite end of the call Bucky’s face grew less haunted with every word until the panic had drained out of him entirely and his own eyes were sliding down. He must have been using a tablet or laptop because the camera stayed perfectly centered on him even when his head at last fell gently down against his chest.

“-and I mean, yeah, I get what he was going for with the ribbons but fuck, it really just made the whole thing worse. Best night of my entire highschool career gone right down the drain because Harry Murdock was too ashamed to tell his parents he wanted to take me to prom and Lisa Furlow was too good of a friend to tell anyone she was just a beard. Obviously the teachers were mad about the horse being there but- ah. He fall asleep?” It took a second for Steve to realize his friend was asking him a question.

“Yeah. He did.”

“S’good. Good. ‘M gonna too. Night, Steve.” And then he was out too. Sam’s head lolled again, face going slack, and Steve was left standing there with a phone in his hand and several new knots in his chest, all of them shaped like confusion.

Well. That. Had happened. Lifting his hand, Steve watched the live image of his best friend sleeping peacefully, a direct contrast to the shaken man who had reached out for help. Reached out to someone who wasn’t Steve. He’d be lying if he tried to say some part of that didn’t sting but he was a big enough person to recognize that helping Bucky was so much more important than stroking his own ego even if he did still feel like the ground was shaky between them after everything that had happened. Watching the man now, he certainly couldn’t deny that whatever the hell just happened seemed to have helped. Bucky hadn’t looked so at peace since he’d volunteered to go back in to cryo while the Wakandans figured out a way to help him.

Movement from the opposite corner of the room drew Steve’s eye and when he glanced over he found Natasha sitting primly with both eyebrows raised in question. Not having much of an explanation, he could only give her a helpless one-shoulder shrug. They held each others’ gazes in matching confusion for several beats until Steve turned to look back at where Sam lay, asleep and content, slumped against the wall. He was definitely going to wake up to an aching back.

And a whole lot of questions.

Unfortunately for Steve’s overwhelming curiosity, he was still self-aware enough to know he didn’t have the heart to wake Sam, not knowing that it was ultimately his own fault the other man was so tired. If he hadn’t shown up on Sam’s doorstep that day they wouldn’t both be here, on the run from their own country, unable to call home to the people they cared about, worn to the bone from running and fighting and hiding themselves away in whatever dingy hole they found to crash in for a night or two. No, Steve would not be the one to disturb any rest his friend managed to find.

“You gonna hang up some time this century?” Natasha’s voice murmured through the shadows.

“Oh, yeah, I probably should.”

She watched him do so with what was probably an all too obvious reluctance. Then she grinned. “We’re giving him the third degree tomorrow, right?”

“Absolutely.”

“So many questions. I need to know absolutely everything that led to Sam Wilson telling the Winter Soldier bedtime stories. Everything.”

“That was weird, right?” Steve ran a hand through his hair, absently noting a tremble in the fingers. “We should probably get some sleep too. I mean, you try. Don’t think I’ll be able to get any.”

Natasha unfolded herself from the floor with the corners of her mouth curling up in a little smirk he couldn’t bring himself to look away from. “No, I think I’ll be fine. Let’s go get some coffee. We’ll coordinate our plan of attack for when this guy gets back to the land of the living.” She jerked one thumb at Sam’s form and Steve finally had to peel his eyes away just to hold in the laughter that wanted to spill out.

“Alright. Yeah. Coffee. And a plan of attack. Sounds good to me.”

“What was it they called you? The star spangled man with a plan?”

Steve groaned and covered his eyes with the hand not still holding his phone. “Please tell me there’s no surviving footage of me prancing around on stage in tights.”

“Why would I need footage when I get front row seats every time you suit up?” Natasha sauntered away from him, probably - definitely - aware exactly what shade of red she’d just left on his face. Front row seats indeed. He certainly didn’t mind his own front row seat whenever he had the chance and the times Natasha had to join them out here on the run from their own government gave him plenty of chances.

One last look at his phone made him smile before Steve slipped it in to his pocket and gently clapped both hands together, rubbing his palms back and forth. Coffee did sound good. Coffee with Natasha while they figured out exactly how much hell to give Sam over how he was apparently reading bedtime stories for a man he hadn’t said two words about in all the time since they’d left Wakanda. This was going to be fun.

#rae writes #sambucky #winterfalcon #sam #bucky #steve #natasha #fanfiction #mcu #i already have a companion piece almost done...#i did warn y'all to expect more sambucky #the world is not soft and so my writing will be

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givemeweasley · 4 years ago

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Back To You

Fred Weasley x Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: fluff and angst (sorry bout that), there’s also mentions of death

A/N: this ones not as long but I’m currently reading Deathly Hollows (yes I know what happens unfortunately) and I had to write this out because I couldn’t focus until it was.

Back To You pt. 2

-----

“I don’t think you should come.” Fred sighed, crossing his arms.

You were both sitting on Freds bed at the Burrow the day before you were going to be sent to take Harry. The other Weasleys were running around pretending not to want to listen in on your conversation. The only one who was genuinely busy was Mrs. Weasley in preparation for Fleur and Bills wedding in five days.

“Fred, I’m not crazy about the idea either. But, Harry is our friend.” You tried to get Fred to meet your eyes, but he was determined to stare out the window.

“Mundungus could take your spot-”

“No one trusts him. There’s no point in risking it, especially when I’m here and willing to do it.”

Fred uncrossed his arms and ran a hand through his already messy hair. He stood up, beginning to pace the small room. “I don’t like it, Y/N.” His footsteps echoed. “It already feels like half the Weasleys are going and that just means less could come back.”

He stopped and looked at you. “If you didn’t come back-”

You abruptly stood and gripped Fred’s cheeks between your palms. “Fred Weasley.” You licked your lips. “When have I ever not come back to you, Freddie?” Fred relaxed a fraction and closed his eyes. Your hands lowered and came to wrap around his midsection as his arms wrapped around your shoulders.

“Never, love.” He pressed a kiss to your hair. “Just don’t start now.” Fred’s kisses started to lower. From your forehead, down until he reached your lips. You groaned against his mouth as he started to back you both up towards the bed.

You began to laugh against his lips. “Fred-” You mumbled. “Fred!” You pulled away still giggling. But Fred wasn’t listening, he just fastened his lips to your neck and pushed you back onto his childhood bed. He climbed on top of you and swept down to kiss you again. Only your hands pressed against his chest pushing him away stopped him.

“What, woman? Can I not kiss my beautiful girlfriend?” The bastard was smirking.

“Not if it leads to… things when your family is in the house!” You squealed as Fred pushed your hands aside and continued to kiss your neck, moving down to your collarbone. “Fred…” You groaned again.

His lips left you for only a second as he looked up and smirked. He pulled out his hand and pointed it at the door without looking at it. “Muffliato!” He winked. “Problem solved.”

The complaints stopped pretty quickly after that.

-----

You rode on the back of Mad-Eye’s broom with him. Your heart was pounding as your arms were wrapped tightly around Mad-Eye’s waist. Fear had been a pretty daily companion for a while now. Ever since He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named came back. You couldn’t help but think about all the outcomes of the night. There were a lot of different combinations of who could die and who could live. Even you knew it was unlikely that you all came out of this unscathed. As long as Harry made it back safe, that was all you cared about.

Well, that was a lie.

You wanted everyone back safe, even at the cost of your own life. You knew that much. Especially Fred. You knew you couldn’t live without Fred, but you knew Fred would be alright without you. Not that you intended on dying that night.

Did anyone ever intend on dying?

You ignored that thought.

Finally, Mad-Eye landed the both of you in front of 4 Privet Drive. Everyone hopped off their brooms or Thestral while Hagrid jumped from his motorbike. The lot of you strode inside, finally getting the chance to see where it was Harry grew up. Well, at least for you it was the first time.

Fred immediately came to stand by your side, his hand wrapping around yours as Mad-Eye explained the plan to Harry. It was no surprise when he didn’t like it. “If you think I’m going to let six people risk their lives-” Harry started.

“-because it’s the first time for all of us.” Ron replied rolling his eyes.

Fred leaned down to whisper in your ear. “You’d think after a time or two he’d get used to the fact that we’re helping him of our own free will.”

You tried to smile, but it came out more like a grimace. “Would you?” Fred held his tongue at your response, choosing instead to respond to George’s comment.

“Yeah, thirteen of us against one bloke who’s not allowed to use magic; we’ve got no chance.” Fred said, attempting to keep a straight face. You sent an elbow into his side that caused him to laugh rather than grimace.

With a bit more arguing, Harry finally conceded and pulled out some of his hair for the Polyjuice Potion. Each of you received a small teacup filled with the golden substance. Before you knocked yours back you grabbed Fred by the collar and pulled him down to meet your lips.

“Sorry.” You shrugged. “I didn’t want to have to kiss Harry as Harry.” Fred only laughed before drinking his, so you followed suit. The potion didn’t taste bad, surprisingly, it tasted like chocolate frogs.

Suddenly, you felt your limbs grow and stretch. You hair warped and changed as you slowly became Harry Potter. You shifted from foot to foot feeling out your new body. You looked at Fred, who now looked like Harry. Then at George, who was also Harry.

The both of them laughed before saying at the same time, “Wow- we’re identical!”

You had to slap your hand over your mouth to keep from laughing.

“I dunno, though, I think I’m still better-looking.” Fred winked over at you.

“Psh, George looks pretty dashing if I may say so.” You raised a brow as George shot Fred a smug look.

“Can’t disagree with your girlfriend there.”

With that, Mad-Eye was shoving a bag of clothes at the group of Harrys. You grabbed a random t-shirt and jeans and did your best to preserve Harry’s modesty. Plus, you really didn’t want to have that image scarred in your brain anymore than he wanted all his friends to know what his junk looked like.

With everyone changed, Moody began dividing everyone up. You were to go with him. Fred with Mr. Weasley. Harry with Hagrid.

When the time finally came, you all piled outside and got into position. You frantically searched for Fred’s gaze, even behind Harrys eyes.

Luckily, he was already looking at you.

I love you. He mouthed.

Stay safe, Freddie. You mouthed back.

And with that, you all shot into the sky. If your grip on Moody had been tight before, it was nothing compared to now.

“Don’t worry, Potter. We’ll make it alright.” Mad-Eye said over the wind. You pursed your lips, a tight feeling in your gut. But he was right. The first few minutes of flying was peaceful.

Until they weren’t.

Out of nowhere Death Eaters were circling you.

Voldemort in the middle.

Moody took off like a lightning bolt, you whipped out your wand and began to shout spells left and right. Barely aware of what was coming out of your mouth. You thanked Godric for the DA meetings which left you more equipped than you would’ve been otherwise.

“Impedimenta! Impedimenta! Petrificus Totalus!” You shouted pointing your wand in the direction the Death Eaters seemed to be. Fear raced through every vein in your body as flashes of green and red shot out all around you.

You could hear Mad-Eye shouting curses and jinxes at the Death Eaters. You knew it was fruitless, when you turned to see Voldemort pointing his wand at you.

“Avada Kedavra!” His voice hissed, the green light flashing towards you. Time slowed in that moment.

You could see the green spell slowly making its way to you. But before it reached you, an unexplainable pain seized your body. You tipped backwards off the broom as your body shook with pain. You could barely focus as you watched the green light hit Mad-Eye.

And then as if someone had hit play, everything came back in motion. Voldemort and the Death-Eaters disappeared all at once as you saw Moody’s body falling alongside you. You were screaming. The Cruciatus curse was reeking havoc on every inch of your body, yet it didn’t compare to the sight of dead Moody falling with you thousands of feet to the ground below. You knew you would die. But your fingers were still tightly gripping your wand. You had maybe seconds before you hit the ground.

Fighting against the grinding of your teeth from pain, you spat. “Protego!” In hopes that it would shield you from the ground. It was your only hope.

As you slammed into the shield, you almost blacked out. You managed to mutter one more spell before you left the world.

Your last thoughts were on a boy with beautiful red hair and kind brown eyes, whom you loved more than anyone in the world.

-----

Bill and Fleur stumbled in at last. Mr. Weasley ran over to check up on them. But Bill looked pale and shook his head.

“Mad-Eye is dead.” Bill choked out. Fred and George stopped laughing.

Fred stood up from his brothers side. Bill seemed not to want to meet his eyes. His head hung.

Fred opened his mouth, but no words came out. Mr. Weasley seemed to understand his dilemma, swallowing, and asked the question no one else seemed to want to ask.

“And Y/N?”

Fleur released a wretched sob and clung to Bill's arm. Bill only shook his head.

No one seemed to want to look at Fred who was still standing. George attempted to sit up and grab Fred's hand, but Fred’s hand just hung limply in his brother's firm grip.

“What happened?” Mr. Weasley choked out.

Bill cleared his throat. “They appeared out of nowhere. Y/N and Moody started firing of spells and jinxes when Voldemort aimed a the killing curse at Y/N-”

Fred collapsed to his knees, but Bill pressed on.

“But another Death Eater hit her with the Cruciatus curse and she fell off the broom. The Killing curse hit Moody who then fell off the broom with her. I- I tried to see if she was still alive-”

“‘Zey were everywhere.” Fleur mumbled, still wiping tears from her eyes. “I ‘eard her scream cut off when she ‘it za ground.” Fleur stared at the floor like she would be hearing that sound as long as she lived.

“No.” Fred groaned from the floor, his hands pressed over his temples as he gripped his hair seemingly on the verge of tearing it out. “No.” His cry felt as if someone's heart had been torn out of their chest and crushed. Which was very likely how Fred felt. Tears began to fall from his eyes as he sobbed openly on the floor of the living room.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley converged around him almost immediately. But before they could wrap their arms around him, his head snapped up. His eyes were red, his face contorted into one of absolute agony.

“Why didn’t you go back for her?!” Fred shouted, his voice cracking. “She could’ve been alive-” But his voice broke under the weight of his cries.

Mr. Weasley wrapped his arms around his shaking son, as George looked on helplessly from the couch. “Fred, there was nothing they could’ve done.” Mr. Weasley mumbled quietly.

But Fred could only cry and moan in pain. After a few minutes, George couldn’t stand it and despite the pain, shifted off the couch and pushed his parents aside as he pulled Fred into his embrace. Fred and George sat there clinging to each other as they both cried for the girl Fred was in love with. For the girl that died.

-----

Fred had been doing nothing but laying in bed for four days. He knew Fleur and Bills wedding was the next day, but he couldn’t find it in himself to be excited about anything at the moment. His chest felt empty. He should be glad no one else died. That’s what he kept trying to tell himself, but to no avail.

It’s not fair.

She said she would always come back to me.

Fred tried desperately to cry, but his tear ducts were dry. He was all cried out, it would seem. Every now and then, someone would stop by and knock on his door to make sure he was alright. But Fred couldn’t answer.

He could barely talk to George.

A loud commotion rang out from the living room beneath him. Fred simply turned over on his bed, facing away from the door. Fred couldn’t take another guest for the wedding. Not now. Not when the very thought of marriage made him sick.

But the voices were slowly becoming more frantic and clearer.

“Wait!” His mothers voice rang the clearest. “Please, dear! You shouldn't be-”

A knock resounded on his door.

He ignored it.

The knock sounded again.

“Dear!” His mothers voice called.

A loud thud echoed into his room from the hall. Fred whipped out of his bed, wanting to know what was so important they had to bother him. Fred wrenched his bedroom door open to see practically the entire Weasley household a few feet back from his door crammed into the hall glancing from him to the floor in front of him. Fred furrowed his brow.

A hand gripped his ankle.

He looked down and tears gathered in his eyes.

“Told you I’d always come back to you, Freddie.”

Taglist: @huffledor-able541

let me know if you want to be on the taglist :)

#Fred Weasley x reader #Fred Weasley fic #Fred Weasley imagine #fw #Harry Potter fic #harry potter #x reader

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weheartchrisevans · 4 years ago

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BOSTON — So you're Tim Scott, the Republican senator from South Carolina who opposes Roe v. Wade and wants to repeal the Affordable Care Act, and you get a call from Chris Evans, a Hollywood star and lifelong Democrat who has been blasting President Trump for years. He wants to meet. And film it. And share it on his online platform. Can anybody say "Borat?" “I was very skeptical,” admits Scott. “You can think of the worst-case scenario.”But then Scott heard from other senators. They vouched for Evans, most famous for playing Captain America in a series of films that have grossed more than $1 billion worldwide. The actor also got on the phone with Scott’s staff to make a personal appeal.

It worked. Sometime in 2018, Scott met on camera with Evans in the nation’s capital, and their discussion, which ranged from prison reform to student loans, is one of more than 200 interviews with elected officials published on “A Starting Point,” an online platform the actor helped launch in July. Not long after, Evans appeared on Scott’s Instagram Live. They have plans to do more together.

“While he is a liberal, he was looking to have a real dialogue on important issues,” says Scott. “For me, it’s about wanting to have a conversation with an audience that may not be accustomed to hearing from conservatives and Republicans.”

Evans, actor-director Mark Kassen and entrepreneur Joe Kiani launched “A Starting Point” as a response to what they see as a deeply polarized political climate. They wanted to offer a place for information about issues without a partisan spin. To do that, they knew they needed both parties to participate.

Evans, 39, sat on the patio outside his Boston-area home on a recent afternoon talking about the platform. He wore a black T-shirt and jeans and spent some of the interview chasing around his brown rescue dog. Nearly 100 million people didn’t vote in the 2016 general election, Evans says. That’s more than 40 percent of those who were eligible.He believes the root of this disinterest is the nastiness on both sides of the aisle. Many potential voters simply turn off the news, never mind talking about actual policy.“A Starting Point” is meant to offer a digital home for people to hear from elected officials without having the conversation framed by Tucker Carlson or Rachel Maddow.

“The idea is . . . ‘Listen, you’re in office. I can’t deny the impact you have,’ ” says Evans. “ ‘You can vote on things that affect my life.’ Let this be a landscape of competing ideas, and I’ll sit down with you and I’ll talk with you.”

Or, as Sen. Lisa Murkowski (R-Alaska), who has appeared on the site, puts it, “Sometimes, boring is okay. You’re being presented two sides. Everything doesn’t have to be sensational. Sometimes, it can just be good facts.” Evans wasn’t always active in politics. At Lincoln-Sudbury Regional High School, he focused on theater, not student government. And he moved away from home his senior year, working at a casting agency in New York as he pushed for acting gigs. His uncle, Michael E. Capuano, served as a congressman in Massachusetts for 20 years, but other than volunteering on some of his campaign, Evans wasn’t particularly political.

In recent years, he’s read political philosopher Hannah Arendt and feminist Rebecca Solnit’s “The Mother of All Questions” — ex-girlfriend Jenny Slate gave him the latter — and been increasingly upset by Trump’s policies and behavior. He’s come to believe that he can state his own views without creating a conflict with “A Starting Point.” When he and Scott spoke on Instagram, the president wasn’t mentioned. In contrast, recently Evans and other members of the Avengers cast took part in a virtual fundraiser with Democratic vice-presidential nominee Kamala D. Harris.

“I don’t want to all of a sudden become a blank slate,” says Evans. “But my biggest issue right now is just getting people to vote. If I start saying, ‘vote Biden; f Trump,’ my base will like that. But they were already voting for Biden.”

(In September, Evans accidentally posted an image of presumably his penis online and, after deleting it, tweeted: “Now the I have your attention . . . Vote Nov. 3rd!!!”)

Evans began to contemplate the idea that became “A Starting Point” in 2017. He heard something reported on the news — he can’t remember exactly what — and decided to search out information on the Internet. Instead of finding concrete answers, Evans fell down the rabbit hole of opinions and conflicting claims. He began talking about this with Kassen, a friend since he directed Evans in 2011’s “Puncture.” What if they got the information directly from elected officials and presented it without a spin? Kassen, in turn, introduced Evans to Kiani, who had made his fortune through a medical technology company he founded and, of the three, was the most politically involved.

Kiani has donated to dozens of Democratic candidates across the country and earlier this year contributed $750,000 to Unite the Country, a super PAC meant to support Joe Biden. But he appreciated the idea of focusing on something larger than a single race or party initiative. He, Kassen and Evans would fund “A Starting Point,” which has about 18 people on staff.

“There’s no longer ABC, NBC and CBS,” Kiani says. “There’s Fox News and MSNBC. What that means is that we are no longer being censored. We’re self-censoring ourselves. And people go to their own echo chamber and they don’t get any wiser. If you allow both parties to speak, for the same amount of time, without goading them to go on into hyperbole, when people look at both sides’ point of view of both topics, we think most of the time they’ll come to a reasonable conclusion.”

“What people do too often is they get in their silos and they only watch and listen and read what they agree with,” says John Kasich, the former Ohio governor and onetime Republican presidential candidate. “If you go to Chris’s website, you can’t bury yourself in your silo. You get to see the other point of view.” As much as some like to blame Trump for all the conflicts in Washington, Sen. Christopher A. Coons (D-Del.) says he’s watched the tone shifting for decades. He appreciated sitting down with Evans and making regular submissions to “Daily Points,” a place on the platform for commentary no longer than two minutes. During the Supreme Court confirmation hearings, Coons recorded a comment on Judge Amy Coney Barrett and the Affordable Care Act.“ ‘A Starting Point’ needs to be a sustained resource,” Coons says. “Chris often talks about it being ‘Schoolhouse Rock’ for adults.”

It’s not by chance that Evans has personally conducted all of the 200-plus interviews on “A Starting Point” during trips to D.C. Celebrities often try to mobilize the public, whether it’s Eva Longoria, Tracee Ellis Ross and Julia Louis-Dreyfus hosting the Democratic National Convention or Jon Voight recording video clips to praise Trump. But in this case, Evans is using his status in a different way, to entice even the most hesitant Republican to sit down for an even-toned chat. And he’s willing to pose with anyone, even if it means explaining himself on “The Daily Show” after Republican Sen. Ted Cruz of Texas posted a selfie with Evans. (Two attempts to interview Trump brought no response.) Murkowski remembers when Evans came to Capitol Hill for the first time in 2018. She admits she didn’t actually know who he was — she hadn’t yet seen any Marvel movies. She was in the minority.“We meet interesting and important people but, man, when Captain America was in the Senate, it was all the buzz,” she says. “And people were like, ‘Did you get your picture taken?’ I said, ‘Yeah, I sat down and did the interview.’ ‘You did an interview? How did you get an interview with him?’ ”What impressed Murkowski wasn’t his star power. It was the way Evans conducted the interview.“It was relaxing,” she says. “You didn’t feel like you were in front of a reporter who was just waiting for you to say something you would get caught on later. It was a dialogue . . . and we need more dialogue and less gotcha.”

“Starting Points” offers two-minute answers by elected officials in eight topic areas, including education, the environment and the economy. This is where the interviews Evans conducted can be found. “Daily Points” has featured a steady flow of Republicans and Democrats. A third area, “Counterpoints,” hosts short debates between officials on particular subjects. Eric Swalwell, a Democrat from California, debated mail-in voting with Dusty Johnson, the Republican congressman from South Dakota.

“Most Americans can’t name more than five members of the United States House,” says Johnson. “ ‘A Starting Point’ allows thoughtful members to talk to a broader audience than we would normally have.”

The platform’s social media team pushes out potentially newsworthy clips, whether it’s Sen. Mike Lee (R-Utah) discussing his meeting with Barrett just before he tested positive for the coronavirus, or Angus King, the independent senator from Maine, criticizing Trump for his comments on a potential peaceful transfer of power after November’s election. Kassen notes that the King clip was viewed more than 175,000 times on “A Starting Point’s” Twitter account, compared with the 10,000 who caught in on CNN’s social media platform.

“Because it’s short-form media, we’re engineered to be social,” says Kassen. “As a result, when something catches hold, it’s passed around our audience pretty well.”

The key is to use modern tools to push out content that’s tonally different from what you might find on modern cable news. Or on social media. Which is what Evans hopes leads to more engagement. He’s particularly proud that more than 10,000 people have registered to vote through “A Starting Point” since it went online.

“If the downstream impact or the byproduct of this site is some sort of unity between the parties, great,” says Evans. “But if nobody’s still voting, it doesn’t work. We need people involved.”

#chris evans #mark kassan #joe kiani #a starting point #the washington post #news

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imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl · 4 years ago

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White Lies (Pt. 07 of 21)

Pairing: Keanu Reeves X Reader

Word count: 2.4 K

Summary: Keanu found the girl almost dead, in the wrecks of what was once her car. While she was in surgery, stuck in a coma, he gathered the best doctors of New York to attend to her. They told him she is likely to have some kind of brain damage, what may lead to memory loss. And this possibility added up wit the fact that she's pregnant, made the council come up with an odd idea. They asked Keanu to pretend to be her husband, since the stress of finding out everything that happened could put the baby in danger. He reluctantly agreed, but only if she does has some kind of memory loss. He still goes she'll wake up soon, with her memories intact.

But when you finally wake up, there's nothing inside. You're quick to find your head is empty, void, like a blank canvas. The only thing that brings you some relief, that makes you feel less lonely is the mention of a husband. And you can't wait to meet him, because you know you can't deal with this by yourself.

<- Previous part (06)

Next part (08) ->

{Keanu Reeves Masterlist}

{John Wick Masterlist}

Attraction

“It's so tiny.” You say, looking at the ultrasound picture you just got from your baby. It's week twelve, and the first trimester is almost over. You'll feel less uncomfortable, or so say the doctors, but a lot of different things are going to happen. You're excited about that. “And beautiful.” Walking fast, you let Keanu guide you through the hospital since you're a bit late to meet with Dr. Harris.

“Do you want a boy or a girl?” He asks, looking down at you.

“Boy.” You're quick to answer, smiling at him. “And I know you want a girl.”

“You know me so well.” He mutters when you reach Dr. Harris's office. “I'll leave you to it and go talk with Dr. Wright.”

“Alright.” Tiptoeing, you place a quick kiss on his cheek before heading inside, fast enough so he won't get a look at your blushing cheeks.

Dr. Harris stands up when she sees you, a smile on her lips. “Mrs. Reeves, good morning.” She says, gesturing for you to seat on the divan next to her. “How are you feeling today?”

Dr. Harris is great, but everything she asks is part of the appointment. You don't mind though, she helps a lot to put your thoughts in place. “I'm great. The first trimester is almost over and... Everything is great. Keanu and I are getting along very well.” You decide to bring your husband into the conversation because she'll ask about him anyway.

“That's very good to hear.” You settle down on the divan, pulling your legs up as she takes her place on the armchair. “Have you and Mr. Reeves spoken about the future of your marriage?”

“We'll try.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Elaborate, (Y/N). Dr. Harris never takes the short answer. “We'll try to make it work. I don't want the accident to break apart a good marriage so...” Running a hand through your hair, you sigh. “We had this settled a while ago, and it's been working well so far.”

“Have you and Mr. Reeves ever gotten... Intimate?”

The question makes you move in your seat, sitting up straight. “We hug a lot... And kisses on cheeks are frequent.” You two are growing closer, and you're happy to feel that he's not pushing himself away to make you comfortable. Keanu is letting you set the pace, and it's up to you to chose what step to take next.

“That was not what I meant.” She adds. “I asked if you and your husband have been... Romantically intimate.”

“Oh...” Clearing your throat, you bite your lip. You weren't expecting that, and you don't need this... Image in your head. Not when you've been thinking about kissing him ever since Lucia visited. “No, no. There's the baby so...”

“First of all, this is a common myth about pregnancy.” Resting her notebook on her lap, Dr. Harris looks at you. She's reading you, you know it. “It wouldn't hurt the baby in any way. But this isn't the point. I just need to know if Mr. Reeves tried to approach you that way, and if he did, how you felt about it.”

You're as red as a tomato now, you're sure of it. “Keanu is... Respectful. He doesn't push me into anything. We're... I'm still sleeping in the guest room and he's completely fine with it.” Why does everyone is so worried about Keanu trying to get intimate? He's your husband, it's only natural.

“And won't you sleep on the same bed with your husband?”

“I don't know.” She asks too many questions, and you don't usually have much time from one topic to the other. It makes your head hurt a little, having to deal with so many feelings and situations. “Maybe I should because... Because I really like being around him. I'm just waiting until I'm ready, I think.”

“And when do you think that will be?”

Sighing, you don't know what to answer. And you don't want to. Maybe Dr. Harris doesn't have to know everything. Some things are better if kept in between you and Keanu.

Dr. Wright's words are in the background as his mind floats away. (Y/N) is everything he can think about. Time and time again he's caught in the lie he built, wanting, wishing it was real. He knows he shouldn't let this happen. He knows he shouldn't let himself have feelings for her, but how could he not?

(Y/N) isn't just beautiful. She's kind, honest, caring. He never thought he would feel this way towards a woman. And it sometimes makes him angry that this didn't happen differently. That he didn't meet her, before she was married of course, maybe in the same way he told her about their fake first meeting. In an airport, where he'd approach her, talk to her, and if he was lucky, get her number. So things would be right.

“Mr. Reeves?”

“Yes.” He clears his throat, moving on his seat. “The headaches are still constant. Almost every day she complains about it, but they're less intense.” He's impressed that he was able to answer the doctor correctly. “But other than that, she's doing well.”

“That's good.” And he goes on again, basically repeating himself, saying things Keanu already knows by heart.

He knows what to do. He knows he has to call emergency if (Y/N) faints. Or if she feels too sleepy. He knows all the little things he has to pay attention to. As if he didn't have his eyes on her all the damn time.

Keanu loves watching her. When she's lying down watching TV, both her legs over his, a hand on her belly. When she cooks, not allowing him to help sometimes, as she moves around the kitchen. And God, her laughter. It lights up his whole world. Keanu thinks he could literally die if he goes too long without a flash of her smile.

“That will be all, I guess.” Dr. Wright says, taking one last look at his papers. “If you need anything, you can always call me.”

“Thank you, Dr. Wright.” He says, standing up to his feet and shaking the man's hand.

Keanu makes his way through the halls, to Dr. Harris' office. Once he's there, he peeks through the rectangular window on the door. She's seated on the divan, facing the doctor, legs crossed, and hands on her lap. He can hear their voices, low, but clear enough since the hall is empty and silent.

He doesn't want to listen. This is between her and her psychologist, and if there's anything she wants him to know, she'll tell him about it. But when he hears his name... His unconsciously listening, it doesn't matter how hard he tries to focus on his phone.

“How would you describe your feelings for Mr. Reeves?” The question has him full alert, holding his breath.

“Well... They're... Growing.” She answers, clearly a little confused. “I know that's not what you're expecting me to say but...”

“It's alright if you don't want to talk about it.”

“It's not that I don't want to talk about it, I just...” Her voice fades, and Keanu rests his back against the wall, trying to listen better. “I want things to fall in place before talking to you. I know I'm supposed to tell you everything and you do help me, but... I don't know. There are a lot of things I just don't know yet.”

“That's completely fine.” The doctor says, and a pause follows. “And what do you think Mr. Reeves feels for you?”

Keanu freezes, holding his breath once again. What will she answer? He feels guilty for listening, but this is something he needs to know. Closing his eyes shut, he tries to hear her voice above the pounding noise of his heart.

“He says he loves me.”

“And do you believe it?”

Silence again. For long seconds, almost a lifetime. “I do, I just... I was hoping he'd be more... Touchy, I think?” She giggles, nervously. “But he already told me that he'll let me set the pace in things, so...”

“Mr. Reeves is quite a gentleman.” Dr. Harris' says, and Keanu chuckles. “He won't push you, and that's good. Not many men would be so patient.”

“I know... Keanu is... Absolutely amazing.” (Y/N) mutters, and Keanu releases his breath, his lungs burning to the sensation.

“Well, this will be it for today.” Dr. Harris says, and he sets in motion, getting up to his feet. Running a hand through his hair, he stares at the door, waiting for her to show up. And when she does, he gets the same feeling he always has when he sees her. Like his world stops, like his heart will jump off his chest. It doesn't matter how much time he spends around her, this sensation never goes away. She's a sight for sore eyes, unbelievably beautiful.

The drive home is peaceful, and Keanu stops to get you ice cream. Back home, you both make lunch and eat together in the kitchen. Then you go take a nap, only to wake up when the sun is setting.

Making your way through the house, looking for Keanu, you start thinking he's out when you hear something coming from the garage. Bracing yourself from the cold, you go there, smiling to see Keanu in the back. You know he loves motorcycles, and he has three. Well, he has three now, since the new one just got here a week ago. Silently, you walk past the two cars, watching as he rubs a piece of fabric on the bike's seat.

“Hey.” You announce yourself, leaning against the hood of the nearest car.

“Hi, beautiful.” Keanu's eyes lay on you, as he moves to stand up straight.

“When will you take me on a ride?” The idea just came to your head, and you can't help but imagine what it would feel like. Speeding through the streets with the wind on your hair, holding on to Keanu...

“We can go around the neighborhood. But I don't think it's a good idea to good further yet. You're still recovering and there's the baby.” As he speaks, you walk over him, giving the new bike a look. The machine is huge, probably very heavy, and it suits him very well.

“Alright.” You agree, gesturing at the bike. “Can I... Can I ask something?”

“Sure.” Throwing the rag he was using on the wooden table in the corner, he lightly touches your thigh. “What is it?”

Blushing, you look down, touching the leather seat of the bike. “Do you find me attractive?” The words come out so low you wonder if he actually heard you.

“Why are you asking me that?”

“I asked first.” You burst out, putting a strand of hair behind your ear, glancing at him before turning your eyes at the bike.

“Yes.” He simply says in a soft voice. “You're a beautiful woman.” With his index finger under your chin, he makes you look at him again. “Why did you ask me that?”

“I... I really wanted to know.” Almost involuntary, you give a tiny step forward, standing on your toes just a little bit.

“Does it goes both ways?”

His question makes you giggle. “You're really asking if I find you attractive?”

“I really want to know,” Keanu whispers, his hands sliding to caress your cheek.

“Of course I do.” You whisper too, your hands coming to lay on his sides, holding on to his shirt. “Ke... Can I ask for something?”

“Anything, beautiful.” He assures you, and your eyes are locked on his lips. You need to feel them. You can't wait anymore, you're ready for this, right now.

“Kiss me.” You plead, tiptoeing, both hands grabbing a fist full of the fabric of his shirt.

“Are you sure?”

“I am.” You expect him to hesitate, as he usually does, but it's different now.

Keanu bends down, and you close your eyes to feel his lips brushing on yours. It's like sweet torture, the anticipation. At first, he only pecks your lips, quick and soft, but he doesn't pull away after. You're holding your breath, a little numb from the proximity, hands moving from his sides to grab the collar of his shirt, fearful he'll step away. He doesn't. Instead, you feel his lips on yours again, slowly at first, as your mind goes blank for a moment. Everything else fades away, and nothing else matters. His hands come to your waist, holding, grounding you. You're moving closer, wanting to climb on him. You're not thinking straight, but it doesn't matter. Pulling away just to catch your breath, you quickly kiss him again, parting your lips to let him in, deepening the kiss.

There's a burning sensation spreading through your body, but you don't fight it. You let it sink in, take over. But you need to breathe, your lungs screaming for a break, so you pull apart, still holding him close.

“Was this ok?” Keanu asks, his hands moving away from your body.

“Absolutely.” You assure him, nodding, still not ready to let go of him. “It was good... Right?”

“It was amazing.” With a hand on your cheek, Keanu smiles before capturing your lips on another kiss.

@multific @inumorph @aestheticallywinchester @bvbwestfall @liviiii98 @allie1804-fan @gian-giannina @playboygeniusphilanthropist @partypoison00 @mariafetamina @fortheloveoffanfic @trin303

#keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves imagine #keanu reeves fanfiction #keanu reeves fanfic #keanu reeves #imagine keanu reeves #john wick imagine #john wick fanfiction #john wick x reader

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snifflesthemouse · 4 years ago

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Harry’s Blaming the Wrong People for his Genetic Trauma... Chapter Two of Lady Colin Campbell’s book reveals a lot!

The more I listen to Lady Colin Campbell’s YouTube Channel, the more I realize how little I truly paid attention to what she was really saying in her most recent book. Lady C is a woman of high caliber. She understands better than anyone that HOW something is said matters MORE than WHAT is said. She knows how to get information out there in a way that prevents any lawsuit happy turkeys from getting litigious. There is more than one way to say something. Finding the way that says it all without saying it all… well that is an artform.

To be honest, I believe all the answers we really want to know are woven into that book. Here recently, especially since the video about Princess Anne and the conversation had with Harry, I have noticed little clues dropped. One could almost argue that Lady C has somewhat direct information being given to her from close sources. And it is worth noting, to date there have been zero legal actions taken by the Montecito Muppets. Because of this, I have started re-reading Meghan and Harry, The Real Story. It’s important to remember I am taking this go-round literally line-by-line. This post is specifically about chapter two in the book.

Chapter two is the chapter in which Lady Colin Campbell provides us with Harry’s and his wife’s upbringings. She draws comparisons between both spare and spouse, as well as contrasting points. When she gets to Harry’s side, the light bulb started to get juice. You see, when you consider that Lady Colin Campbell was first chosen by Diana to write the biography Andrew Morton later got tapped to pen, Lady Colin Campbell was given a unique opportunity. She was able to see who the person was behind the media image of Diana, Princess of Wales.

She could not put aside her dignity, her responsibility of the truth, to seal that deal. Andrew Morton had no qualms with twisting truths slightly to perpetuate the Diana Saga. When you factor in Lady Colin Campbell’s knowledge on the British Royal Family, especially regarding the Queen Mother, you realize that Lady C is telling us who’s really behind the Montecito Man-Child just called Harry. Which again brings me back to the light bulb moment.

This whole time, Harry and his wife have been hurling accusations at his family. Harry especially pointed blame toward his father, grandmother, and late grandfather for causing his “genetic pain” and trauma. But if we look at what Lady Colin Campbell writes in chapter two of the book, we learn the reality of life growing up for William and Harry. Lady C writes in chapter two that Diana would encourage the boys to go against the grain, even if that meant bucking the protocols and measures put in place to protect the Crown’s survival.

Lady C mentions that William and Harry both were wild children with little to no rules to follow from their mother. She writes that Diana was infamous for screaming matches, throwing matches, and the peace of the home rested solely on the status of Diana’s love life. She says Charles was approving of James Hewitt, knew of their affair, and was okay with him teaching the boys how to ride horses. Diana would rotate between James Hewitt, Hasnat Kahn, and eventually Dodi. When trouble was brewing for Diana and a lover, she brought that trouble to Charles.

Furthermore, the Queen Mother was so concerned with instilling her own influences on the future of the Crown, she was a major influence in the issues between Prince Charles and his mother, Her Majesty the Queen. Lady Colin Campbell even writes in chapter two that the Queen Mother would tell Prince Charles it isn’t his place to stand up to the mother of his children, even when she was leading her boys down a wild-child path.

History cannot ignore the facts. Lady Colin Campbell even highlights how Diana’s own grandmother was so disgusted with how Diana was behaving and undermining the monarchy, she died before Diana and she could make amends. Her grandmother was a Lady of the Bedchamber for the Queen Mother, and she died 4 years before Diana. Her own grandmother saw through her tricks, as the Queen Mother did.

Again, what’s my long, drawn out point? Well, just in the first half of chapter two… we learn that Charles is a hot mess because of the Queen Mother’s meddling and Diana was the one in control of how the boys were raised. As a matter of fact, Diana was known to tell the boys “do whatever you want as long as you don’t get caught”.

Of course, I still have the rest of chapter two to finish, but I found it especially interesting that Lady C quotes the Kensington Palace chef, Darren McGrady (1993-1997) as remembering Diana telling him frequently to keep an eye out for William. She would tell him that William would manage, but Harry was an airhead like her. The exact wording on page 47 of the book says “You take care of the heir; I’ll look after the spare” (Campbell, 2020). So what does all this mean? Why does it matter? And how is THIS a light bulb moment for me?

Well, when you consider the fact Harry and his wife repeatedly bash his own family (more so from the former lately than the latter)… and you consider the factual recollections from everyone else… you realize Harry is blaming the wrong people for his problems. He says his father and grandparents are to blame for his own pain, that his father only treated him how he was treated by his own parents. But that goes against reality and truth. Because Charles was raised differently than his siblings; mainly because of the Queen Mother favoring him. Plus, William and Harry spent far more time residing with their mother than they did their father. By the age of twelve, a child’s personality is already well-seeded and developed. Essentially, who you were around puberty is who you are now, save for the maturity gained.

What we have here is repeated historical recollections of both women, the Queen Mother and Diana, being at the source of it all. Charles failed to step in and prevent his boys from growing up wildly misbehaved because he took more advice from the Queen Mother than his own mother and father. We have Diana constantly instilling in Harry this sense of bucking tradition and being the rebellious one. Both women had a direct hand in creating who Harry is. Both women left him rather large chunks of change when they passed. Yet… neither are blamed when Harry goes on the record? You mean to tell me, the two women who essentially gave you all of your wealth… the two women who predominately raised you to a teen… had no impact on you life nor bare some of the weight of responsibility for your issues? Just your father? Hmm.

Why does Harry only blame his father and his grandparents? Why doesn’t he ever utter one word about his mother that is honest instead of some fanatical warped version of a distant memory? He instead hoists all the blame from his own mother and great-grandmother onto the Royal Family. Why does he never mention how his mother would have screaming matches with his father, throwing things, or how she had multiple heated affairs of her own? How she struggled with her own relationships and would gaslight his father? We hear him slant his father for cheating on his mother, but never a word about his mother cheating on his father, too.

My whole point is Harry is comfortable blaming the people still living who cannot respond to these accusations. He is not comfortable with the truth. Why? Well, let’s face it. A lot of the affection and love people have for Harry is transference. Most people “loved” him because they loved her. They loved Harry because she loved Harry. People felt like they were serving, honoring even, Diana’s legacy by sparing Harry a harsh glance. He’s the spare, “Diana’s second son” who’s not so bright. Hey let’s give the ol’ chap a break.

He can’t let anything get in the way of his mother’s victimhood, martyrdom, sainthood status. It tarnishes his own brand. When the world starts remembering the facts or realizing Diana wasn’t so innocent, the world stops garnering sympathy for Harry. The world isn’t as easily manipulated when they don’t feel sorry for you, remember? So, Harry’s biggest chore to date is protecting that image of the lamb taken to slaughter that he paints his mother to be. Without that, his own brand crumbles.

Sorry again for the rambling, but it’s important to truly think and consider just how vital a role both women had and still have in Harry’s life now. Two of the biggest reasons he could just leave the Royal way of life are the Queen Mother and Diana. They are also two of the biggest influences that made life as traumatic as it was. Yet, never a word mentioned about their own responsibility in Harry’s “generic pain”. Oops, meant genetic.

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whitewolfofwinterfell · 4 years ago

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Harry Potter re-read: thoughts and ranking my favourite books

In 2020 I completed a full re-read of Harry Potter for the first time since I was a child. It was a rollercoaster experience of highs and lows; excitement, nostalgia, frustration, joy, boredom and everything in between. It took the whole year (in between reading other books) and I hit a wall in the sumer, but I’m glad I persevered and made it to the end. This series will always hold a special place in my heart and as much as I love the movies, there’s so much detail that is missed from them. I didn’t realise just how much my memories of the HP universe had been shaped by the movies until I read the books. I feel like I’ve reconnected with the universe and characters in an authentic way and lots of my opinions have changed as a result.

Before we get to the ranking, some disclaimers:

If it wasn’t already obvious SPOILERS BELOW FOR THE HARRY POTTER SERIES (at this point I’d be surprised if there’s anybody that needs this warning, but better safe than sorry!).

This ranking is completely subjective and very changable. I love all of the books and I’ve based the ranking solely on my enjoyment of reading them.

In writing this post I am in no way supporting or endorsing J.K. Rowling’s works. Her ignorance and hatred is intolerable and abhorrent. I discuss this more in the conclusion of this post.

None of the images or gifs featured were made by me, all credit goes to the creators.

7. The Goblet of Fire

One of my favourite movies, but my least favourite book. This one hasn’t aged well for me. It’s too long, there’s much too filler and it has the disadvantage of coming after The Prisoner of Azkaban. I like the idea of the Triwizard Tournament in theory, but the execution is dull. We spend chapters upon chapters upon chapters with Harry and Hermione researching and preparing for the tasks and the tasks themselves are very anti-climatic. It’s also difficult to ignore the fact that the second and third tasks take part underwater and in a maze, and the audience can’t even see what’s going on. Apparently there’s no spell that can allow the audience to see underwater or inside a maze, not even those Muggle inventions called cameras *face palm*

The sub-plot with S.P.E.W was equally dull and didn’t add much to the story. I also found it deeply uncomfortable and upsetting to read about the enslavement of elves and the way that slavery was portrayed in general. The one positive I took from it was seeing Dobby with his crazy jumpers and socks. Dobby is The Best.

(credit to xbirdyblue on DeviantArt for this wonderful fanart image of Dobby)

The reactions to Harry’s name coming out of the Goblet of Fire is what infuriated me most in this book because it doesn’t even make sense. Firstly, does anybody really believe Harry’s capable of overcoming such powerful magic to put his name in? Secondly, why the fudging hell would Harry want to put his name in the Goblet? He’s a 14 year old child who has endured endless trauma; he’s spent most of his life living in an abusive household and the 3 years he’d been at Hogwarts fighting against Voldemort. He doesn’t want fame or glory, he just wants to live a normal, peaceful life and hang out with his best friends. Ron’s reaction is particularly annoying because he of all people should know Harry wouldn’t put his name in the Goblet. I understand why Ron felt that way and I love him but...

The one thing I did enjoy about this book is the evolution of Harry’s friendships with Ron and Hermione. Hermione is fiercely loyal to Harry and devoted every waking second to helping him succeed in the tasks. Despite Ron’s silly tantrum and their divide through most of the book, their falling out really does cement Harry’s love for Ron.

"He thought he could have coped with the rest of the school's behaviour if he could just have Ron back as his friend."

Harry liked Hermione very much, but she just wasn't the same as Ron. There was much less laughter and a lot more hanging round in the library."

"The thing Harry Potter will miss the most, sir!"

"Harry didn't care, he wouldn't have cared if Karkaroff had given him zero; Ron's indignation on his behalf was worth a hundred points to him."

What can I say? Ron is Harry’s platonic soul mate. That is all.

Barty Crouch’s escape from Azkaban and transformation into Moody is more cunning and intelligent than it was in the movies - this dude switched places with his mother and left her in Azkaban in his place!!

Fred and George were by far the highlight of this book for me. Their characters are great in the movies, but in the books they’re just--

Their antics, wit and banter are top notch. I’d actually forgotten that Harry gave his prize winnings from the Tournament to Fred and George, and it seems like such a huge injustice!! This act of kindness and selflessness on Harry’s part is largely why Fred and George are able to set up Wizard Wheezes. It’s a testament to Harry’s love for Fred and George that he gave them his winnings. Harry may not have needed the money but he could’ve done literally anything with it, and chose to give it to the twins because he believed in their ideas and wanted to give them the opportunity they needed.

GOF was always one of my favourite movies because of this moment:

Voldemort’s return was one of the most chilling, terrifying and shocking moments for me as a kid. The scene in the graveyard still stands out as being one of my favourite scenes from the movies. In the books, it didn’t have the same impact, unfortunately. In fact, this is what was noticeable to me all the way through reading this book - I like the movie more. The movie cuts out the filler, takes the interesting aspects of the book and does them better.

Overall, despite being at the bottom of my list, I still like GOF. It’s a huge step up in world-building and is an entertaining book with a great premise; I loved the Golden Trio’s friendship, the appearances from Dobby and Fred and George’s antics. Unfortunately, this book is let down by the sheer amount of filler, the underwhelming execution of the main plot and too much focus on sub-plots like S.P.E.W.

6. The Sorcerer’s Philosopher’s Stone

It was really difficult to rank Phliosopher’s Stone, because it holds a special place in my heart because it’s where the series began. This book does a great job at introducing Hogwarts and it captures those nostalgic, magical Hogwarts vibes unlike any of the other books. This book is all about the wonder and the joy of Hogwarts, and Hogwarts lives in my heart, so stepping into this magical world with Harry for the first time again was a joy to read.

I love the time spent in this book on experiencing the smaller wonders of the magical world with Harry - Platform 9 3/4, Hogwarts Express, Diagon Alley, Ollivanders, the Sorting Hat, Great Hall feasts, ghosts etc. It’s exciting and fun to read about, and truly a gem of a book for children.

Seeing Harry go from living in a cupboard and suffering abuse and neglect to an incredible world full of wonder and people who want to get to know him and show him kindness was a joy to read. I love the development of Harry, Ron and Hermione’s friendship and how, despite how short the book is, it’s developed properly. Their friendship with Hermione doesn’t happen overnight, but by the end there’s a genuine bond and trust between them.

But of course, as the first book in the series, the plot is lacking and the writing isn’t at its strongest. Also, despite how short it is I did feel a little bored reading the second half. It’s a great entry to the series and does a wonderful job at establishing the world, main trio and other characters, but in the grander scheme of the series it’s quite bland a forgettable.

5. The Deathly Hallows

Now this one came as a big surprise to me, because before my re-read I considered The Deathly Hallows to be my favourite book, but I just didn’t enjoy it this time around. The first 50-60% of this book got me like:

I was bored as hell. The travelling, the hunting for Horcruxes, Dumbledore’s backstory, the bickering between Harry, Ron and Hermione...it was tiresome. Fortunately, amongst that there were a lot of isolated things that I enjoyed.

Firstly, I adore the Tale of the Three Brothers, it’s interesting and I love the depiction of it in the movies - it’s just so cool!

Secondly, Ron and Hermione are very cute in this book, and for the first time I appreciated them as a romantic ship.

Thirdly, Harry looking through Sirius’ room and finding a letter from Lily broke my heart. This moment is so touching and completely unexpected, since I’d forgotten about it over the years.

(credit to alessiatrunifo for this stunning fanart)

Fourthly, LUNA LOVEGOOD. You know what? I have no qualms in saying Luna is one of my new favourite characters since my re-read. I always liked her, but she never stood out to me, and that’s changed. It’s not just that she’s unique and wacky, but that she’s fiercely independent, moral, kind and loyal. Luna has such a strong sense of who she is and she doesn’t let anyone or anything contradict that.

Can I also admit that I might slightly ship Harry and Luna now? 🙊 Luna seeing through Harry’s disguise as “Barney Weasley” based on his facial expressions alone and their reactions to the possibility of the other being in danger touched my heart.

"'She will [survive],' said Harry. He could not bear to contemplate the alternative. 'She's tough Luna, much tougher than you'd think. She's probably teaching all the inmates about Wrackspurts and Nargles.'"

"Oh, no, I didn't want you to be caught!"

They’re cute, okay?

Finally, Kreacher! This was perhaps one of the biggest surprises from reading this book, because I’d completely forgotten about Kreacher’s story. And boy, oh, boy did this pull on my heartstrings. Kreacher has one of the most tragic backstories in the HP universe and he absolutely deserves the redemption he got in this book. I loved seeing him develop a genine relationship with Harry, Ron and Hermione, and the fact that they never went back for him made me so sad. Poor Kreacher!

I enjoyed all of these elements of the first half of the book, and then I got to The Sacking of Severus Snape and it was like:

This is where the book finally took off for me (unfortunately, it took 30 chapters to get there) and as soon as Harry, Ron and Hermione are back in Hogwarts I couldn’t put it down. There are so many brilliant moments and things I loved that all I can really do is bullet point them:

The character reunions.

Percy finally redeeming himself!!!!

McGonnagal being the most badass to ever badass.

Neville Longbottom owns my heart ❤❤❤

Neville's grandmother's response to finding out Neville was fighting in the battle - "Naturally [he is]. Excuse me, I must go and assist him."

Ron and Hermione's first kiss!! and Harry’s reaction to it - "Is this the moment? OI! There's a war going on here!"

Percy handing in his resignation whilst Stupefy-ing his boss - "Hello, Minister! Did I mention I'm resigning?"

The Forest Again was such an emotional chapter. It got me good.

"You'll stay with me?" "Until the very end." 😭

"Harry, you wonderful boy. You brave, brave man."

"Perhaps those who are best suited to power are those who have never sought it. Those, who, like you, have leadership thrust upon them, and take up the mantle because they must, and find to their own surprise that they wear it well."

Did I mention that Neville is bloomin' amazing?

Kreacher!!!!!! "Fight! Fight! Fight for my master, defender of the house-elves! Fight the Dark Lord in the name of brave Regalus! Fight!"

Reading The Flaw in the Plan was soooo much more satisfying than watching it play out on-screen in the movie.

In many ways DH has some of the best, most satisfying moments of any of the books. It’s a strong conclusion to the series and there’s so much that I loved about it; so many memorable and emotional moments (Dobby and Fred’s deaths still hit hard 20 years later). Unfortunately, it was dragged down by the first half of the book and the epilogue. I tried so hard to keep an open mind about the epilogue, but the truth is it still BLOWS. And the more time that passes the more I resent the decisions that were made about character deaths. I understand that the stakes were high and we needed to lose characters close to our hearts but Fred?? Dobby??? Remus??? NO! Just no, okay? I don’t accept that.

4. The Order of the Phoenix

Now, The Order of the Phoenix had similar issues as DH for me - it had a very slow start but a great ending. I did take a couple of months break in the middle of reading this one and distinctly remember slogging my way through the first half and devouring the second half.

I’ve made no secret over the years that Sirius and Remus are two of favourite HP characters, so I expected to enjoy OOTP a lot for that reason. I did really enjoy all the smatterings of Sirius and Remus we go throughout this book. Unfortunately, there wasn’t enough for me. This book really highlighted for me how limited Harry’s POV was, because I wanted more of an insight into the Order but Harry was kept in the dark the entire time which was frustrating.

One of the main character highlights of this book is the legend Minverva McGonnagal. Her sass, strength and determination to defend Hogwarts and its students against Dolores is astounding. Here are some of my favourite McGonnagal moments:

"Well, usually when a person shakes their head they mean 'no.'"

"Can I offer you a cough drop, Dolores?"

"I should have made my meaning plainer. [Harry] has achieved high marks in all Defence Against the Dark Arts tests set by a compotent teacher."

Defending Hagrid against Umbridge.

And of course:

(Still can’t believe the movie robbed us of this!)

Time for a less popular opinion - I loved Harry in this book. In general, this book made me feel very protective of Harry, because Harry is bloomin’ incredible and deserves so much better than what he gets in this book. He’s always had a bad rep in OOTP for being an annoying, angsty teenager, but in my opinion, this is Harry at his most relatable and lovable. After everything Harry went through, he’s entitled to be angry with the world. He endured everything that he did and took the responsibility of the world onto his shoulders with little complaint, and in OOTP he reaches breaking point. Honestly, I’m surprised it didn’t happen sooner. The adults in Harry’s life are glaringly irresponsible in this book. Not only do they force him back to the Dursley’s after the hugely traumatic events of GOF based on some bull about “blood magic”, but they purposefully hide the truth from him even though that puts him at greater risk and adds to his emotional distress. Everyone around Harry expects him to be mature and act like an adult when he’s fighting against the darkest wizard of all time, yet don’t give him the courtesy or respect of telling him the truth about significant things that impact him and the people he loves. Sirius os the only person that refuses to belittle Harry, but in some ways, his behaviour is just as damaging as those that tried to shelter Harry from the truth, because he expects too much of Harry and projects James’ personality onto him. The adults around Harry fail him to such an extent in this book that he establishes the DA because he can’t even rely on the adults around him to keep him and his friends safe. Harry’s emotions in this book aren’t only understandable, but justified and I felt an even deeper connection to him as a result. His vulnerability shows his strength and courage more than ever before. This is the point where he goes from the Chosen One to a true champion, because even when he reaches rock bottom and wants to give up, he doesn’t walk away. I love Harry so much.

The Department of Mysteries is by far one of my favourite sections from any of the books. I love the friendship dynamics, Luna, Neville and Ginny are given the chance to really shine, the stakes are high, the action is great and despite the trauma of Sirius’ death, that moment is so hard-hitting and memorable. This section of the book just took it to a new level for me. It was really great.

The emotion of Sirius’ death was captured so perfectly, and is such a huge turning point for Harry. Like I said above, choosing to go on even after losing Sirius proves that Harry is a true hero; that he isn’t just doing what he was doing out of obligation or has been told to but because he believes in doing the right thing. I best move on before I continue to speak about how amazing Harry James Potter is.

Now we come to Neville. Can you believe that I’d actually forgot the details of Neville being the Chosen One? It was a blast learning about that again and how he’s connected to the prophecy. I also loved that we got to see his family and not just be told about it via dialogue. Neville is by far one of the most loveable and interesting minor characters in the series. He has so many great moments in books 1-4, but he really shines in OOTP.

The more I write about this book, the more I find things to love. It’s just a shame that the first half lets it down, because overall, I think there’s a lot of great material here in terms of plot and character development.

3. The Chamber of Secrets

I know that The Chamber of Secrets is generally ranked low amongst most fans, but I love it. At this point, the books were more simplistic and just fun, and I like that. I also have to acknowledge that I have a deep affinity for the COS movie - I grew up watching it over and over, and of all the movies it’s still the one I know best and always come back to (still can’t believe the “Why couldn’t it be follow the butterflies line?” wasn’t even in the books!)

I love all of the different elements in this book:

Dobby

The Burrow

The flying car

Whomping Willow

Moaning Myrtle

This idiot

Gilderoy Lockhart is one of my favourite antagonists in the entire series, because he isn’t intentionally bad, he’s just an arrogant fool. His primary concern is his image and reputation and he was willing to go to any lengths to maintain it. He’s a bad person in a subtle and hilarious way.

Generally speaking, there are too many fun and entertaining moments to count in this book. I love the childish-ness of this book in comparison to the darker tone the series adopts from POA onwards. For me, COS still has the silliness and merriment that I really associate HP with. Entertainment value aside, the plot in COS is actually well executed.

As a short, concise and effective plot, Tom Riddle’s diary and the Chamber of Secrets works incredibly well. I liked the mystery and suspense of the culprit of the Muggle born attacks, and the big moments connected to it - finding out that Hagrid might be the perpetrator, Ginny being possessed by Voldemort, Hermione being petrified, Harry speaking Parceltongue. The stakes are high and this plot is strong enough to keep momentum going between the more light hearted moments.

Overall, COS is a quick, easy and fun read. It may not be the best written or complex book in the series, but I’m a huge advocate for it. Not only is it highly entertaining, but it also introduced a lot of great and important aspects to the series (Horcruxes, Tom Riddle being the heir of Slytherin, Harry being connected to Voldemort, polyjuice potion and Dobby), and built very well on what was established in PS.

2. The Half Blood Prince

The biggest surprise of this re-read was how much I bloomin’ loved Half Blood Prince. It has the perfect balance of plot, character development, mystery, humour and emotion. Out of the bigger books in the series, this was the one I finished the fastest (2 days), because it was quite literally un-put-downable (yes, that’s a word).

First, let’s talk about the plot, because wow, it’s a good ‘un. In my opinion, it’s the strongest and best written plot from any of the books. There’s Voldemort’s backstory, the development of Harry and Dumbledore’s relationship, Snape’s backstory, the mystery of the Half Blood Prince, Harry’s rivalry/suspicion of Malfoy, hunting Horcruxes and Dumbledore’s death. This book feels like an incredible pay-off for things that have been built up in the previous 5 books. We learn so much about certain characters - Dumbledore, Snape, Malfoy, Voldemort, Ginny - and regardless of whether I liked those characters or not, I was invested. The clues that Snape is the Half Blood Prince are cleverly interwoven within the narrative and the mystery keeps you guessing, even when you know who it is.

The last part of this book from Chapter 26 onwards was just explosive. Although I knew what was coming, I was surprised at the level of emotion I felt when Dumbledore and Harry were in the cave and when Dumbledore died. My heart was racing and I had tears in my eyes.

This book just doesn’t let up for a second. If we aren’t learning more about Voldemort, we’re following Draco to see what he’s up to or unravelling mysteries around the Half Blood Prince or trying to get information from Slughorn about horcruxes. Even the down time is enjoyable to read in this book (Chapter 9 was one of my favourite chapters to read) and the friendships and banter are stellar.

In terms of character development, this is also one of the strongest books. Dumbledore is finally developed beyond the omnipotent Gandalf-esque archetype and we learn bout his past and his flaws.

"I have already proven to you, I make mistakes like the next man. In fact, being - forgive me - rather cleverer than most men, my mistakes tend to be correspondingly huger."

The focus on Dumbledore also sets it up for his death, and you know what? It works. If we’d lost Dumbledore prior to HBP, I would’ve been shocked and upset, but losing him at this point hurts that much more because we learn so much more about him, see how important he is to Harry and how vital his guidance is in defeating Voldemort. Dumbledore’s death feels like all hope is lost, and so soon after losing Sirius it feels even harsher.

Insight into Snape’s back-story finally explains some of his motivations and actions (though it does not condone them).

Although Voldemort’s backstory doesn’t necessarily add to our understanding of him, it’s interesting to see how he came into the world, and learn about his family background. What this demonstrated most to me is that a lot of the time there is no reason for evil. Voldemort didn’t really have any motivations for what he did. Sure, he didn’t have the perfect, happy childhood but there isn’t really enough substance there to try to explain how or why he became the monster that he did.

More could’ve been done with Malfoy, but I enjoyed him having a bigger presence in this book and how the idea that family shapes who we are isn’t always true. Draco does what is expected of him from his family, but ultimately, he has his own conscience and inner turmoil that forces him to question things.

As for Harry...he goes to a dark place in this book. OOTP has always been cpnsidered as the “angsty Harry”, but HBP takes Harry to new places. Harry feels more ruthless, reckless and determined in this book than any other. There’s an underlying sense of apathy that lingers from Sirius’ death. He obsesses about his mission to extract the memory from Slughorn and his lessons with Dumbledore, and fixates on his hatred for Draco and Snape. The fact that Harry uses Sectumsempra on Draco is honestly the most alarming thing that Harry does because it shows how dark a place Harry has gone to. He knows the spell is going to inflict serious harm and yet he uses it anyway.

Generally, Harry abuses the potions book and manipulates, lies and takes advantage of almost everyone around him. I really see his dependency on that book and his choice to exploit it for his own benefit as adverse effects of the grief and trauma he endured. For once, he has the upper hand and I’d even argue that despite the Half Blood Prince being anonymous stranger to him, he relies on him as a mentor or parental figure. Yet despite it being a dark book for Harry, he also seems to get some genuine peace with Ginny. Although I’m not a Hinny shipper, it was so nice to see Harry experience some normality and contentment. No matter what he goes through, he remains kind hearted. I actually feel like this book more than any other emphasises that point - Harry could just as easily have gone down the same path as Vodlemort, but he made a choice not to.

“In spite of all the temptation you have endured, all the suffering, you remain pure of heart, just as pure as you were at the age of eleven, when you stared into a mirror that reflected your hears desire and it showed you the only way to thwart Lord Voldement, and not immortality or riches. Harry, have you any idea how few wizards could have seen what you saw in the mirror?"

Plot and character development aside, the comedy in this book is gold and I appreciate the movie (and Daniel Radcliffe) for maximising on that to create some of the best and funniest scenes in the movie franchise. Chapter 18 in particular was hilarious.

Now I have to speak about one of my favourite moments from this book:

Since GoF, Fleur was grossly mistreated and discriminated against by the Weasley’s (Molly and Ginny in particular). The way they treated her was sexist and xenophobic pure and simple. They had no reason to dislike her and all of their reasons seemed to be built on some flimsy notion that she was full of herself (why, just because she was beautiful? and even if she was, what’s wrong with confidence?!) and that she was annoying and loud because she was French. Seeing Fleur finally stand up to their bigotry was fantastic. It’s a moment I’d been waiting for for so long and I’m so glad we got it, because frankly, Molly and Ginny’s beahviour towards Fleur needed to be addressed because it was disgusting.

Overall, HBP demonstrates the strengths of HP as a series. In comparison to the other books, I don’t really have anything to crituqe I enjoyed all of it from beginning to end, which is why it almost took the top spot in this ranking.

1. The Prisoner of Azkaban

It was really close between first and second place, but Prisoner of Azkaban just managed it. This is where the HP series truly takes off and starts to shine. In comparison to what we got in PS and COS it’s richer - the plot is complex, the world building is more developed, the characters are great and it’s generally an entertaining read but with added complexity in comparison to its predecessors.

I like that POA allows us to spend so much time in Hogwarts hanging out, but that the plot comes to the forefront more. We’re all so familiar with HP at this point that it’s easy to forget the impact the plot-twists must’ve punched the first time we read them. But for me, it’d been so long since I’d read the series, that it really was like reading them for the first time and POA was one of the ones that surprised me at various points.

I’d forgot details like:

The Shrieking Shack got its name and reputation because Lupin locked himself up there during transformations; The Whomping Willow was planted to hide the secret passage to the Shrieking Shack and prevent Lupin from escaping and hurting people in his werewolf form

Crookshanks was Sirius’ ally

Sirius escaped Azkaban in his dog form

Unsurprisingly, Remus and Sirius were the highlight of this book for me. I know it’s basic but I really love them and the two of them having such a focus in this book really makes it.

Remus truly shines in this book. He’s a lovable character – a great teacher, a supportive mentor and a loyal friend. His tragic backstory only adds to his character. Snape tries to villainise Remus for being a werewolf, but the reality is that he’s a victim. He was an innocent child that was bitten by a vicious, cruel monster and has to live with the consequences of that for the rest of his life. He carries so much self-loathing, fear and insecurity because of what he is and he doesn’t deserve it. Dumbledore is the only one that separates the man from the wolf and takes Remus on his merits. He knows that Remus is a genuinely good person and a talented teacher, and he’s willing to make the necessary adjustments to enable Remus equal opportunity. Not only does it benefit Remus for Dumbledore to do this, but the students too, because let’s face it, Remus is a bloody damn good teacher.

Remus is arguably the most decent and responsible adult character in the entire HP universe. He respects Harry’s agency but also acknowledges that he’s still a child that needs protection and guidance. Instead of lying to Harry or throwing him into dangerous situations, he does perhaps the most helpful thing any adult ever does for Harry – he teaches him how to defend himself. I love that Lupin and Harry’s relationship in this book foreshadows the formation of the DA in OOTP; Lupin is the only one that teaches Harry practical DATDA skills and in the absence of Lupin as a teacher, Harry then takes on that role as a mentor and provides his friends with the skills to defend themselves.

Now we come to Sirius. Introducing Sirius as the enemy – a dangerously, mad criminal who is conspiring with Voldemort and wants Harry dead – and then revealing him to be the complete opposite was genius. Part of me wished I could completely forget so that I could experience the utter shock of finding that out for the first time. The fact that Harry saw his parents in the Mirror of Erised in PS and then finds Sirius and Lupin in this book touches my heart. Sirius is a direct link to Harry’s parents unlike anything he’s ever had. Although on the surface, their bond develops too quickly, considering that Harry is 13 years old and all he wants more than anything is to have parents and/or a connection to his parents, his quick attachment to Sirius makes sense. The thought of living with Sirius makes Harry so happy that he used it to power his patronus!!! Likewise, Sirius clings to Harry knowing that he’s the son of his best friends. He spent the entirety of his time in Azkaban knowing Harry was still out there somewhere without James and Lily and in danger from Voldemort. Immediately, Sirius provides Harry with the type of comfort about his parents that he’s never received before.

“You think the dead we have loved ever truly leave us? You think that we don't recall them more clearly than ever in times of great trouble? Your father is alive in you, Harry, and shows himself most plainly when you have need of him. How else could you produce that particular Patronus? Prongs rode again last night.”

One of the highlights of this book is the scene where Snape catches Harry with the Marauders Map. That quote is just legendary.

"Mr Moony presents his compliments to Professor Snape, and begs him to keep his abnormally large nose out of other people's business. Mr Prongs agrees with Mr Moony, and would like to add that Professor Snape is an ugly git. Mr Padfoot would like to register his astonishment that an idiot like that ever became a Professor. Mr Wormtail bids Professor Snape good day, and advises him to wash his hair, the slimeball."

Admittedly, the time travel in this book is problematic as hell. I’m grateful that Harry and Hermione were able to save Buckbeak and Sirius due to time travel, but if it was up to me, I’d remove time travel from the universe completely. It doesn’t fit, it’s too complicated and creates too many issues. McGonnagal condones the use of time travel for Hermione to attend extra lessons and yet won’t use it to tackle real, important problems, like I don’t know, war, death, disease, disasters etc. Not to mention the entire Voldemort problem and Harry becoming the Chosen One could’ve been resolved by going back to the night of James and Lily’s deaths.

One of my favourite elements of this book was seeing Ron and Hermione’s friendship with Hagrid. A lot of emphasis is placed on Harry’s friendship with Hagrid. but this book shows how devoted Ron and Hermione are to Hagrid. They both spend a lot of their time comforting him and helping him to prepare for Buckbeak’s trial.

This book has a great balance – it’s still on the shorter side but it doesn’t suffer for it. and here’s plenty of plot and character development. Ironically, whilst HBP is my favourite because of the emphasis on the main plot, POA is my favourite because it takes a break from Voldemort. It’s refreshing to take a step away from Voldemort and put the focus onto a new villain in Sirius, and then for the twist to be revealed that he’s not actually a villain but Harry’s godfather. The time-turner is the biggest draw-back in this book, but I can overlook that because there’s so much more to love in this book. It’s definitely the most re-readable book in terms of the length and plot. This book is a happy medium which incorporates the strengths from all of the other books in a smaller package than HBP - it’s fun but expands on the universe, introduces brilliant new characters and has a depth and complexity that the first two lack whilst not having the filler that books 4-7 have.

Conclusion

It’s hard to read these books without it being mingled with childhood nostalgia, so that undoubtedly informed my ranking. Despite being a children's series, the books still hold up reading them as an adult. I enjoyed rediscovering the smaller details I’d forgotten over the years and feel much closer to the universe as a result. The characters and their dynamics are by far my favourite thing about HP. I also enjoy the whimsical magic and how this is offset against the darker tone later in the series. However, in light of JKR’s hateful rhetoric, my attention was drawn to the problematic elements of the books such as the portrayal of slavery in addition to:

Lack of major/well-written characters of color

Anti-semitic caricature of goblin bankers

Cho Chang’s name (which many consider offensive), stereotypical placement in Ravenclaw (the smart house) while being the only East-Asian character in the books, and she functions almost exclusively as a love interest

Ableism all-around

Nagini, an evil snake who gets chopped in half, is actually an Asian woman according to Fantastic Beasts, making her the second of two named East Asian characters in the franchise

“Magic in North America,” a history of magic in North America published on Pottermore that grossly misappropriates and misconstrues Native American cultures

Anthony Goldstein, retconned token Jewish character, also stereotypically named

General stereotypical naming of non-Anglo-Saxon characters

Remus Lupin’s werewolf status as an AIDS metaphor while depicting his condition as making him monstrous, and the man who bit him goes around biting people for kicks

Declaring that Dumbledore is gay with exactly 0 in-canon references, and no other LGBTQ+ representation (article credit: Separating Art from Artist - Thoughts on J.K. Rowling written by Melina List on Medium)

This is the last time I will read these books, partly because I’ve outgrown them, but mostly because I can’t, without a heavy conscience ignore the relationship between JKR’s hateful views and her works. If you want to learn more about this, I’d recommend checking out a post from my_weird_bookish_heart on Instagram which explains why we couldn’t and shouldn’t ignore the problems in these books by adopting a “art is separate from the artist” mentality (if you would like the link to this please message me and I’l be happy to share it. We can all still love and enjoy HP, but we all have a moral duty to acknowledge and take responsibility for this and not feign ignorance. Views like JKR’s directly harm individuals and groups, not just in the trans community but also the Jewish and LGBTQIA+ communities and people of colour. I can’t and won’t accept that in silence. No matter how special HP was to me as a child, the lives of real humans are unquestionably more important.

Thank you for reading.

#hp #harry potter #hp books #harry potter books #hp review #hp book review #hp meta #mine #my meta #reposting from my sideblog cos i spent legit HOURS writing this and adding gifs and don't wanna lose it when i delete the blog

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maraudersandlily20 · 4 years ago

Text

Disturber of the Peace

Harry was used to visitors. His friends made it a habit to come and check on him, at least once a month, just to ensure that he was still living. It had been a few years since The Boy Who Lived had disappeared and Harry was almost glad to see him go. He was learning a great deal about himself in France and liked the constancy of a place that belonged to him.

He had been occupying himself while there, of course. He had taken to tending plants as well as painting. Draco told him he was rubbish, but he still liked to try. And then of course, there was the reading. McGonagall had sent him an array of books regarding defensive magic. He wasn’t completely daft and knew that McGonagall wanted him to return to Hogwarts, but as a teacher. She had as good as stated it in her last letter, telling him that he was always an extremely bright student and his life experiences were more than enough qualifications to get him the position. He had enjoyed the books, toyed with the idea of going to teach, but had declined the offer. He declined the offer three separate times. But, he had to admit, at least to himself, that he felt a bit of longing in him when he thought about it. He would have the chance to form the minds of students, create in their minds an image of him that didn’t revolve around him being the chosen one. It was a nice thought.

He sighed as he flipped through the pages of one of the latest books regarding countering spells. He had learned a great deal from the writers and knew that, with all of the knowledge he’d gained recently, he was more than capable of teaching. But he felt blocked, like he wasn’t sure. He was afraid of deciding and that left him stuck alone in a cottage in France.

As he was contemplating this dilemma, he heard a knock from the door. Assuming that one of his diligent friends was returning with some kind of food or some great story in their new positions, he rose to get the door. He was glad his friends were moving on in their lives, but he sometimes felt like he was being left behind. It was his fault, he knew, but he couldn’t help it. Ron was becoming one of the brightest aurors of their generations. Hermione had already taken a position in the ministry. Ginny was a professional quidditch player and Luna had started on a path toward tattoo artistry. It was all rather fine and well. And Harry was in France, tending his plants, and hoping no one would recognize him. It felt off and a bit unfair.

He shook himself of those thoughts and moved to answer the knock. Wondering if Draco had returned from England early, he opened it to reveal, not Draco, but someone he was unused to seeing at his front door.

Neville Longbottom stood on his porch, holding what appeared to be a succulent in one hand and a bag in the other. He hadn’t seen Neville since his wedding nearly two years ago. He looked good. 26 years old and one of the youngest professors in Hogwarts history. His work in Herbology was revolutionary and the research he provided was unmatched. Harry would never admit it to him, but he had purchased every single piece that Neville had published. He didn’t understand any of it, really, but he liked seeing Neville’s name on the top of the parchment. A comforting thing.

But this wasn’t a paper, this was Neville Longbottom in the flesh. Harry felt himself grin.

“Neville!”

“Hello, Harry!” Neville answered, moving forward and giving Harry a hug, though an awkward one, considering his hands were full.

“Come in, come in!” Harry said, moving aside so Neville could enter. He did so and took in the sight of the little cottage that Harry had made his home. His eyes scanned the pictures on the shelves, some magic some not, as well as paintings and wood carvings. Neville was also pleased to see that every plant he had ever given Harry was on display somewhere on the walls.

Neville turned to Harry, setting his bag down and holding out the little plant. “This is for you. I found it in a little shop on the way in, and figured you might like a plant that wasn’t entirely magical.”

The other man smiled and accepted the gift. “Thanks Nev. It’s lovely.” He moved further into the room and placed the plant on a shelf, beside one of his favorite flowers that Neville had gifted him. It had very picky standards when it came to shelf-mates, but Harry figured the little succulent might do the trick. The plant bent over in curiosity, seeming to smell the succulent before releasing puffs of pollen in appreciation. It liked it. Harry turned to find Neville grinning in pride.

Later, when they had settled into the main room with cups of tea in their hands, Harry began to ask Neville the questions he had wondered since his arrival. “What brings you here, Nev? I haven’t seen you since the wedding. How's Hannah? How’s Hogwarts? Tell me everything.”

It seemed Neville couldn’t keep the smile off of his face. “I know, it’s been too long. I’m sorry about that. But, between the field work, the wife, and the teaching, I haven’t really had any time to think.” Harry waved him off, not caring about the time. He was simply glad to see him. “Hm, alright, well. To start, Hannah is doing well. She’s taking to healing like a bee to honey. She and Draco were in the same classes when they started, though Draco left after they became certified. She likes having her own practice. She’s set up shop in conjunction with a few other healers in Hogsmeade, so we have a small house out there. That way I can still teach. It’s wonderful.”

“That sounds lovely, Nev. I’m glad you and Hannah are doing well.”

“Yes, me too. And to answer the question I’m sure is on your mind but you’re too afraid to ask is no. No babies on the way yet. Much to Hannah’s mother’s disappointment. I’m so scared of babies that I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to do it.” He persisted, despite Harry laughing at his words, “They’re so complicated! Why can’t they be more like plants? Water, dirt, sunlight! That’s all they need.”

“You could argue that kids need the same though,” Harry said, placing his cup onto the saucer on the table.

Neville rolled his eyes. “Yeah yeah, that’s what I’ve been told. We just don’t want to rush anything.” He turned his attention to the plant sprouting on the table beside his chair. It was growing quite splendidly, Harry would often brag, and it was. The flowers were beginning to come in and the scent of the small tree-like plant was unmatched.

“As for the other two questions you asked, they are actually connected,” Neville continued, avoiding Harry’s eyes by staring at the plants.

“Oh?”

“See, Hogwarts has been quite the place since the war. Much of the integrity is still there, but it has that feeling of purity that you only get from a new building. It’s beautiful.”

“That’s good,” Harry was cautious in his reply.

Neville turned to look at him. “It also is looking for new teachers.”

Harry immediately sighed, figuring the conversation was heading in this direction. “Nev-”

“No, Harry, come one. Hear me out?” After a moment, the exasperated man gestured for him to continue, looking put out. “I know McGonagall has been on your tail about taking the Defense Against the Dark Arts position, and I know you’ve been pretty persistent in turning it down. But McGonagall thinks now is the best time. Our current teacher, Douglas Finn, is going on sabbatical to study the movements of Thestrals. We need someone.”

“There are plenty of capable people who could fill his position, Nev.”

“Yeah, but none of them are you.”

Harry stood angrily at his words, grabbing their cups and heading into the kitchen to clean up. Neville followed. “You know I’m right, Harry. After you decided to leave Auror training, you’ve been listless. Not even trying to find things that make you happy. Ron’s told me all about it. You’ve grown stagnant the past few years.”

“I’m fine, Neville. In fact, I’m really happy. I like living here, I like not having people stare at me all the time. I like the peace and quiet.”

“Bullocks!” Neville interrupted him. “I know you, Harry Potter. I know everything about you and how your brain works. We’re practically brothers at this point. I’ve seen your dick, alright? We have a bond.” “Please don’t say we have a bond after stating you’ve seen my dick ever again, Nev. Please.”

“Fine,” Neville was trying to hide a laugh, Harry could see, but he pressed on. “I know that you’ve really enjoyed your peace and quiet. And I’m not saying you should give it up completely. But you’ve been here so long that the world suspects you to be dead.”

That made Harry smile. “I know, I’ve seen the articles.”

“Exactly,” the man stated, pushing at Harry’s shoulder. “You’re not dead, Harry. You just aren’t living. You aren’t doing anything anymore. And I can tell that you’re not happy. Content, maybe. But not happy. And teaching these kids, with the experiences you have under your belt, might be exactly what you need.”

Harry folded his arms, leaning against his counter. “I mean, I understand where you’re coming from, Nev, I really do. But I don’t think I’m cut out for it. And then, there’s the whole Draco situation, which, if you’ve spoken to Ron, I’m sure he’s told you all about. It’s hard with him having to return to England and spend so little time here. If I was at school teaching, I wouldn’t have any time to spend with him. Our relationship is so new and fragile, I can’t risk it. It just doesn’t make sense for me to throw away everything I’ve built here just because when I was younger I worked so hard NOT to be dead.”

They stared at each other for a moment, Harry trying to show Neville that he was being sincere. But Neville had a way of seeing Harry in a way that he had forgotten. It was almost like he could read his mind.

“I don’t think you mean it, Harry.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve been so worried about peace and quiet and anonymity that you’ve forgotten about living. And this cottage is changing from a home into a hideaway. I think you’re using all of this as an excuse. I think that you’re hiding.”

It struck a chord in Harry that he had tried to ignore. Was he giving up life because he was comfortable? Was that the way he was supposed to be living? He wanted to feel fulfilled, wanted to have a life that didn’t revolve around him being Harry Potter, and he thought that France was the answer. But, maybe it wasn’t. Maybe Harry was hiding. Hoping the world would forget about him.

Maybe he wanted that, though, because he thought that was best.

“I really appreciate you coming here, Nev, to talk to me. I know McGonagall probably sent you here. But I really am happy. I like living in this town where no one knows me. It’s…”

“Safe?” Neville finished for him. Harry nodded. “I don’t mean to sound like a prick, Harry, but when have you ever cared about being safe?”

Again, a tug in his chest. He didn’t like how much Neville could see him. These were all arguments he had had with himself before, but Neville had a way of making it stick. “I’m afraid-” Harry started, his voice getting caught. He cleared it and stared out of the window, trying to work up the courage to admit this. “I’m afraid I won’t be any good. I’m afraid I’m going to let them all down. I don’t want to feel responsibility for so many kids. I feel like it’s taken me this long to be responsible for myself. I’m afraid of failing.”

There, he had said it. The truth about the offer to teach at Hogwarts. Harry was terrified. His friend seemed to understand him completely, nodding and moving to stand beside him.

“When McGonagall asked me to teach, I didn’t know what to do. Hannah thought it was a brilliant idea, even though she was still doing her nursing courses. But I wasn’t sure. I hadn’t exactly been the brightest or most liked at school as a kid, and I worried that the moment I stepped back into those halls, that boy who everything always went wrong for would come swinging back into me.” He laughed. “And he did, a bit, but that’s beside the point.”

Neville took a moment to think, as if planning his words carefully. There was a moment of peaceful stillness between them before he carried on. “Before I made the decision, I went and saw my mother. She was happy to see me, as she always is. She doesn’t really know who I am besides the boy who brings her snacks. But she knows me, and that seems to be an improvement.”

Neville shoved his hands deep in his pocket, a habit he had when he felt uncomfortable in his vulnerability. “I told her about the offer to teach and how I worried I wouldn’t be good enough. And she listened, like she always does, but she said something pretty remarkable after I finished. She said, “no one is ever good enough until they try”.” He looked back at Harry, his face red. “I decided that I would give it one year, and if at the end of the year I hated it, I would leave. But I tried. And I loved it. There’s something about kids that brings a light to you that you can’t get anywhere else. And here I am, three years later. I have had a lot of awkward moments, but I’ve also learned a great deal about myself. I get to care for these kids and instill in them a passion for things they learn about. It’s pretty special.”

Harry contemplated his words as Neville tried to drive the point home. “Just give it a try. Give it a year. And if it’s not for you, then you can move on. I won’t try to stop you or get you out of your comfort zone ever again. You can come back to France and have all the peace and quiet that you want. Okay?”

Harry couldn’t help but laugh, feeling a bit overwhelmed. But he sighed. “Alright Nev. One year.”

Neville grinned and clapped him on the back. “I’m glad to hear it! I’ll let McGonagall know.” He headed back toward the front door to pick up his bag, Harry trailing behind him in confusion.

“Do you need a place to stay?” Harry asked, wondering again if Neville had come all the way to France to convince him to teach.

“Nah,” Neville smiled. “Mrs. Longbottom is currently waiting in a hotel in Paris for me. I’m all set. We’re celebrating one of our many anniversaries, because she likes to celebrate and I like her. So it works out for everyone.” He opened the door and stepped through before taking a pause and turning back to look at Harry. “It’s good that you said yes, Harry, considering Malfoy agreed to take the potions master position last week. See you at school!”

“What?!” Harry exclaimed in surprise, but it was too late. Just as quickly as he had appeared, Neville Longbottom was gone. Leaving Harry confused and suddenly employed. He wasn’t sure what had happened.

#Harry Potter #Draco Malfoy #Drarry fic #my writing #neville longbottom #this shit is dramatic #but i had to post this before the next fic #because they're connected

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