#because you bought into the lie that harris is bad

[ultimatebottom69]

*tapping the sign super agressively*

All y'all fuckers when you say you ain't gonna vote

[smoooothoperator]

untouchable

07: It'll Be Okay

Lando Norris x OC (Violet Sinclair)

same group friend, unrequited love, acquittances to lovers, ski trip, love triangle

Words: 2.7k

Warnings: fluff, heart opening talks

a/n: this chapter took me longer than I expected to write because I couldn't find a moment to focus. But here you have it!!

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It felt weird. Not having Eloise or Harry around feels different, and not explaining things to Eloise makes it worse.

The moment the taxi drove away I went to my room, closing the door behind me and sitting on the bed looking at the window. The snow started to fall, slowly, making a perfect picture of the landscape. It was inevitable to not grab my phone and take a picture of it.

Questions started to form in my mind. Are they mad with me? Do they feel betrayed? Does Eloise feel betrayed? Harry… I don't want him anymore. He showed me minutes ago his true self, a person that won't doubt betraying his friends only to have what he wants and have the control of everyone. But Eloise… She doesn't deserve a man like him. Or maybe she's like him and knows everything, not wanting to help me and betraying me too just to be with him.

Two knocks on the door of the room interrupted my thoughts, making me shake my head and take a deep breath.

“Come in!” I said, not tearing away the eyes from the window.

“Oh damn, this is indeed the best room in the house” Pietra said, making me smile and look at her. “Are you okay?”

“I don't know” I smiled weakly, watching her sit on the bed next to me and rest her back on the wall. “I guess it's too much information in the last few hours…”

“How much do you know?” she asked, taking a look around the room.

“Well… Lando confessed his love for me last night” I said, and somehow I felt my cheeks burning at the memory of it. “And before that I had an argument with Harry through the phone, that's when he told me that Lando loves me. Then I just discovered that Lando is my secret admirer, so he bought practically half of my bookshelf back at home. He told me that Harry kept me away from him, making sure that he never talked to me. And he told me what he did, how he tried to forget me and that Harry wanted to blackmail him”

“Yeah… I knew half of these things” she smiled weakly. “I never trusted Harry, he never gave me good vibes. When I started dating Max and then I started to hang out with all of you, I saw the way Harry always was between you and Lando. At the start I didn't find it weird. But then, instead of looking at Harry, I started to look at Lando and how quiet and sad he was when you were there. At first I thought it was a coincidence, the a s time went by, he started to act cold and mean when you were there”

“I thought that he didn't like me there” I said. “That he didn't want me there with them, that I was an outcast of the group. But I guess that it was what Harry wanted, making me think that none of you wanted me there so I never got close to Lando and having me for himself”

“And how are you feeling now?”

“I actually have no idea” I sighed. “I just feel that I live on a lie. That Harry made me see what he wanted me to see and he treated me however he wanted. I don't even know if Eloise is my friend anymore. God knows what he is telling her right now to make her cut strings with me”

“I'm sorry” she smiled weakly, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and pulling me close to her. “But hey, you have us. If you feel sad or you need a hug, you have the three of us here”

“Is it bad if I say that I don't know what to do around Lando?” I said, smiling weakly. “I told him that I wanted to take it slow, that I accept his feelings towards me. But I just… I want to be happy”

“Then give him a chance to make you happy” she said. “I'm not saying it because he's my friend, but because I saw how much he had to hold back around you. He wants to cherish you, to make you smile. And that's something beautiful. Maybe let him do it, don't hold back. I saw you two downstairs while having breakfast and you were so relaxed around him. Just stay that relaxed, he will follow your pace”

I nodded and sigh, resting my head on her shoulder. No holding back, that's what she says. And somehow it sounds good, knowing that my own body didn't hold back about holding his hand or being close to him.

“You want to help me pack the lunch for today?” she asked.

“Yeah, sure”

We stood up and then I hugged her, thanking her for being with me. Pietra felt more like a friend than Eloise. Maybe I chose the wrong people to be friends with, maybe I belonged to this group.

Lando and Max were somewhere, I could hear their voices and laughs. I smiled, realizing that I heard for the first time Lando's true laugh.

“It's been a long time since I heard that laugh” Pietra said next to me. “I guess that sending Harry away and talking to you made him take a weight out of his shoulders”

“I'm glad” I nodded.

We packed snacks and things to take with us, since we wanted to spend the whole day outside.

After packing lunch, Pietra and I went to where they were laughing, finding them throwing snowballs at each other, laughing and running around.

“They are like kids” Pietra chuckled.

“I never saw him act this way” I said, crossing my arms on my chest. “So… carefree”

“Every time you were around he was portraying a mask” she sighed. “A mask of someone he never was. It was like he was another person…”

“All because of Harry” I sighed, nodding. “I have to learn how to be around him. I just… I will give him a chance, to see what happens”

“You will?” she smiled.

“Yeah, but… I want to know him first. I want to know how it feels being around him and how I am around him. I don't want to jump into a relationship and then regret it” I sighed. “I just want to give him all of me as much as he gives me all of him”

“That's so mature, you know?” Pietra said, looking at me and back at the two men playing outside. “I always knew you were someone that had both feet on the ground, knowing what to do and I admired it so much. And hearing you talk right now, just after what happened with Harry and all… I'm happy to say that you are my friend”

“Yeah, well…I keep things to myself too” I sighed.

Max and Lando came back inside after a while, both of them covered in snow and with their cheeks and noses tinted in a soft shade of pink. Lando was smiling so wide, a smile that was easy to copy when he looked at me.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, brushing his hair with his fingers to remove the snow from it.

“I have been better” I smile weakly.

“And you'll feel better” he nodded. “You'll see. I'll be okay"

I smiled when he took a step closer to me and pressed his lips on my forehead, a gesture we started to do yesterday and I knew it was so intimate, and yet I didn't care if he did that. Feeling his hand cupping my jaw when he kissed my skin was something that warmed my chest in a comfortable way.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

I nodded and he smiled, looking behind my shoulder. The two backpacks were on top of the kitchen table with snacks for the four of us.

“Do you wear warm clothes?” he asked.

“Yeah, don't worry about it” I smile.

I saw his eyes moving quickly to my lips, making me look away fast. I took a deep breath and went towards the backpacks, grabbing the one I was going to wear with me.

Today's plan was to use the snowmobiles to go to the village that is near this one, just to have a small trip in the snow and come back after the sunset. And doing that, I knew that I'll be with Lando on the snowmobile.

We got out, holding the equipment with our hands and getting ready. Lando helped me put the helmet, making sure that I covered my mouth and nose with my scarf and had the gloves on my hands before he sat, offering me his hand to help me sit behind him.

“Remember, if I'm going too fast just pat my thigh” he said, turning on the engine and looking back at me.

“You know the way to the other village?” I asked, wrapping my arms around him and securing myself.

“There are signals” he said, placing his hand on top of mine.

“I trust you” I whisper, resting my chin on his shoulder to look to the front.

The landscape was beautiful, full of trees covered in snow. I could only hear the engine, but I didn't care, I was happy with what I had. Sometimes I felt Lando's hand on top of mine, rubbing his thumb over my hand for a few seconds.

He loves me. He said it. Not an “I like you” not an “I have a crush on you” nor “I fancy you”. He feels more than that and yet never had the chance to show it, he kept it all to himself for four years. Why did he never give up? What pushed him to keep fighting for me? He was Harry's victim too, he had a spell on him, a threat and he was scared of them being real. How could I be so blind to never see how Harry hurt us both?

Lost in my thoughts I hugged him tighter, not wanting to let him go. Lando is a strong man, he suffered in silence and still he had energy to smile, even if it was a forced smile. Maybe he's the kind of love I deserve.

“We're arriving soon” I heard him say loudly. “Just some minutes”

I nodded and sighed, looking around and taking pictures with my phone, ignoring the messages Harry left and not opening them again.

“Shit” I heard him. “No fucking way”

The snowmobile started to go slower until it completely turned off, leaving us there in the middle of the way. Max and Pietra stopped next to us confused, both of them taking off their glasses and scarfs.

“The engine stopped working” Lando told Max. “Fuck”

“Oh” he frowned. “I'll go to the village, okay? I'll see if there's a way of bring you two here”

I swallowed thickly. They are going to leave and we are going to stay here alone? No way… and with this cold.

“Okay” Lando sighed.

I saw Pietra and Max leaving, following the path and disappearing. So that's it, we're here alone and we have to wait for them?

“Are you cold?” He asked looking back at me.

“No” I sighed, shaking my head.

Was this a twisted plan to make us be alone and talk? It came just in the most unexpected way.

“I heard you laugh before, playing with Max” I said, pulling down my scarf. “I think it was the first time I heard you laugh that way”

“What way?”

“I don't know… Carefree , like a kid” I sighed. “Your laugh is contagious to the point it made me smile.

“I'm glad I made you smile” he smiled. “I'll make sure of doing it more, then”

“Oh, I know you will” I sighed.

Silence. My mind was racing, trying to find a way of saying what I want to say, of talking with him. I sighed, leaning on his back and hugging him again making his hands hold mine.

“Promise you won't hurt me” I whisper. “I just want to be happy, Lando. I think I have every right to finally be with someone that loves me and not with an idiot that only used me however he wanted”

“I will make you the happiest” he whispered back, turning his head to the side.

“I want to give you a chance. To give us a chance” I said. “I want to know how it feels being with you, who I am when I'm with you. Harry convinced me that you someone I don't want to be around with, that your world is not good for me”

“And he was right in that” he said, holding my hand, intertwining our hands. “You saw how it is, how easy it is to make rumors, to take pictures of me and make it look bad. Harry made me believe he had pictures of me with girls because he knew what I did with them. But he's one of many people”

“But you had every right to do whatever you wanted” I said. “You are your own person”

“But… What if they start attacking you, hm?” he sighed. “I want to be with you, I really do. I swear I dreamed how it would be having you as my girlfriend. But what I don't want is to see you involved in this world, receiving hate and threats only because you date me. I don't want you to act to make everyone like you…”

“Who said I was going to act?” I asked. “You know how I am, Lando. If they don't like me, it's their loss. And if I date you it's because of you, not because of your job or fame or money. You come first, then your job. Whoever made you believe that you are worth it only because of your job, they are so wrong”

“You never stop amazing me, Violet” he whispered. “The way you talk, how you see the world… It's like what happened earlier with Harry doesn't affect you”

I smile weakly and sigh. That's exactly what Pietra said.

“It does hurt” I sighed, confessing it. “It feels like a knife stabbed so deep in my chest, that every time I try to take it off I get scared of bleeding and not stopping it”

“Then let me help you take it off” he whispered. “Let me help you take it off and cure the wound. I promise you, Violet Sinclair, that I won't let that man get close to you that I won't let anyone hurt you ever again”

And I believed him. Because I know he can do that for me.

Recently, the small talks with him are always like that. We are getting closer and closer, opening our hearts and saying how we feel.

When Max and Pietra came back with the mechanic, Lando asked me to go with them in the car to be warm, but I answered him by pulling up the scarf and hiding him tight. I heard him chuckle before starting the engine again. If he says he wants me, I will make sure to show him what he truly wants.

We arrived at the village just in time before the sunset, watching it from the top of the ski resort. We sat on a picnic table, looking to the point where the sun will hide in a few minutes.

“How are we going back to the house?” I asked Lando, who sat next to me, while Max and Pietra sat on the other side of the table with their backs facing us, watching the sunset too.

“I think I'll rent another car” he sighed. “We'll leave the snowmobiles here since they are from the same company and we'll go in a car for the four of us, then I'll leave it in the village after going home”

“That sounds better” I whisper.

We ate what we packed, waiting for the sun to go down. He wrapped his arm around my shoulders and I leaned on home resting my head against his, sighing, feeling his lips pressed on my temple.

And honestly, for this time I wished he kissed my lips.

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[seven-meds]

A few interesting Letters to the Editor published in various adult magazines between the 50s and the 90s. Transcripts and sources below:

1: Future Sex (Issue 6, March 1994)

I love your magazine. The articles are well-written, and it's refreshing to see adjectives other than the words "throbbing" and "turgid" being used. Bless you and your thesaurus as well.

I particularly enjoyed Kim Teevan's essay, "Self-Service" (Issue 4), but some of the terminology was used improperly. One woman commented on the power of her 12volt vibrator being powerful enough to bore her with men. Well, that may or may not be true, but it's not voltage that determines the output power of vibrators. (I am an electrician by trade so I'm quite familiar with how vibrators work.)

The "vibes" or "pulses" that come from a vibrator are dependent on its rate of electrical cycles, expressed in hertz. A really good vibrator will have a "rate of fire" of about 60-180 pulses per minute. That translates to about

1-3 hertz. Other good rates lie in the 3003,000 pulses per second range. If this sounds a little fast, don't worry about it. Three hundred to 3,000 hertz is the average frequency of the human speaking voice. It's a nifty little vibration but it doesn't carry as far as the electrically generated vibrations due to limitations in the body's ability to maintain a sustained tone.

If I can make a personal recommendation to heavy vibrator users, you can get about a 40% increase in output power on your vibrators by bypassing the resistors that send power into the vibrator itself. Just solder a little wire around them and you'll soon be able to come so hard you'll shatter windows all up and down your block.

Charles Harris San Francisco , CA

--

2: Night and Day (November 1952)

Dear Sir:

It's wonderful to pick up your magazine a letter from a fellow uniped such as Beth O. I, too, think it is about time we were being heard from. 1 am 27 years old, blonde and not bad looking at all. I lost my left leg at mid thigh in an automobile wreck. Also I have never been able to wear an artificial limb. I use one special crutch, and my boy friend says I get about as well as a girl with two legs. I wear a 6B shoe and would like to swap with any girl that wears that size. Maybe Beth O. wears that size.

I have been walking on crutches for over ten years, I play tennis, dance and bowl. Can anyone top that? I don't believe there is a one-legged girl in the world that can get about better on crutchés than me. I challenge all comers. It is quite a nuisance being one-minus, but as Beth said, it has its compensations. I haven’t bought any hose in years as my friends give me all their odd stockings. I am waiting with bated breath for your picture spread of us one-legged girls — might even send in one of mine if I can find a good one.

E.C. CONCORD, N. C.

--

3: Eqqus Eroticus (Spring 1997)

Dear Sir,

I’m a middle aged white male living in the Cleveland, Ohio area. I took an early retirement from the Federal Government over a year ago. But I stay in good physical condition by doing my exercises such as walking, bike riding and playing golf. So I can keep up with if not ahead of just about everyone my age and usually guys who are years younger.

I want to be a cart pony and I could be a cart pony, if only I knew of someone who could train me.

I have almost always been in control. I usually am in charge of what¬ ever I am involved in. At work, I was always the boss. Usually when I joined any club and social activities at some point I became the leader. That may sound great, but it is not easy being the one who has to make the decisions, to be the person people wait to hear from, to always be the responsible one.

Through it all or maybe because of it all, I have always had a suppressed interest in bondage. To “be” in bondage, that is. To be tied strapped, shackled or whatever into complete submission. But there was no one who could or would control me, and I still yearn for bondage. I want to know at the deepest level what it is like to be controlled, forced to respond to any whim of the person who controls me.

In my spare time I found a newsgroup that had all kinds of photos of people in bondage. What attracted my interest most was the pony girls, especially the cart ponies. They were totally controlled, physically and mentally. They weren’t just in bondage; they weren’t held in one position. They were forced to behave and obey just as their masters or trainers instructed them. They were in body harnesses, stiff high collars, with a bit in their mouths, and harnesses holding their heads just right. You might see them in a corral, practicing their gait. They might be shown in a stall, chained to a wall by their neck or ankle or pulling a cart with the whip ready to give them extra incentive to obey. They were always total slaves with no will or choice.

I want to be the one who is being trained as cart pony boy. Held by my reins in a stable or my bit secured above me, holding me straight as my trainer works on my gait. To know that the littlest mistake would be rewarded with a crack or two of the whip. A whip crack I have yet to feel. Taught patience by being left chained naked in my stall, to wait for whatever would come next. I even long to be the one locked to the cart, my head held high by collar and head harness, reins telling me where to go, proudly pulling my trainer. To know that when the trip was done I‘d be back secured in my stall, left alone to await my trainer’s next pleasure.

I’m not interested in appearing in public, or being in competition. I just want to experience what it is to live the training of a cart pony. Maybe out there somewhere is a trainer who would give me what I am looking for. I want this experience so much and I would be forever grateful. I’d prefer female, but since sex isn’t the object, a male would be acceptable. If there is anyone who would train me, they can reach me at my e-mail address shown below. Please help me fulfill my desires.

PonySlaveX@aol. com

--

4: Eroticon (Fall 1980)

Dear friends of Eroticon,

I read porno magazines secretly, because my husband would not like having such “dirty” things in the house. Couldn’t you show more close ups of the male models muscular buttocks? I also would like to see cocks being soft and nice before the erection. I would really love that!

Finally! A lady with desire. We shall try to get some of the models to overcome their vanity and show “him” in a relaxed state. I definitely agree with you — not only womens asses are tempting.

--

5: Divinity 7 (1994)

I am enclosing a cutting from the DAILY TELEGRAPH of the 8th September. This indicated the flogging of a bishop.

There are no details and I would be very interested to know more about it, there is no doubt that it was a severe thrashing, but the culprit did not need to have hospital treatment afterwards, and he was fit to sit and walk next day, therefore no real injury.

I think that many of us would like to have details, such as how was he dressed for the flogging, did he have pants and shirt on? Was he standing or laying down?

It would also be interesting to know the conditions for flogging in other countries like Pakistan, Arabia and Turkey, with descriptions of the faults for which one can be flogged.

A photo or two would be interesting or better still a video of an actual flogging in public or in private.

This being an item siutable [sic] for the DAILY TELEGRAPH, and the true record of a news event I would think that a video or photos would be quite OK and legal imports, am I right?

As you are In touch and a publisher, I would like to hear from you on this subject, you may already have information or know of videos available.

Douglas Finlayson Essex

--

6: Transformation (Issue 6, 1994)

Dear TRANSFORMATION,

| recently picked up your Magazine #2...it’s great! | like what I’ve read in your magazine, especially a story titled “Dominant Lady Turns Boyfriend into Crystal” on page 10. | have this fantasy...about a dominant lady dentist who has a thing about a trampy TV, and fetish PVC or latex clothing.

Sometimes | am the patient, all dressed in shiny PVC. Other times I’m the nurse, in a white PVC uniform, long blond hair and a shiny nurse’s cap. The dental equipment is an old belt-driven drill and a sit-up chair.

If possible, I'd like to get in touch with Karyn R. and Crystal. But anyone...please write me!

K. Johnson

--

7: High Heels (Vol. 2 No. 7, 1965)

Dear High Heels.

I would like to see more pictures of handicapped girls in high-heels... I am enclosing some of mine, showing my 6" heel—some also show my peg. I have other pictures showing me in 7" heels...

Thank You,

U.N.A.

[gryficowa]

Boycott!

Liberals are showing again that for them genocide is not a red line and they will continue to say that Trump will be worse for Palestine… Because it is clear that genocide is not bad enough for them to criticize their own party for supplying weapons to Israel

Seriously, being so blinded by the party of politicians and believing every lie they lie shows that liberals shouldn't even be allowed to vote because they believe every empty word a politician says…

But what should we expect from people who think that doing almost nothing is enough? Hello, what has Biden done for LGBT+ people and people trapped at the border? He was supposed to get rid of the wall, but he didn't, and he also supplies weapons to Israel (Same Harris), but for you, genocide would only be bad if Trump was to blame…

But what do you expect from people who are detached from reality and call everyone Russian trolls and use the text "Trump will be worse" (which is fucking cynical in the context of fucking genocide), or have the nerve to call someone stupid when they believe in the empty promises of fucking politicians

Choosing the lesser evil is still choosing evil, it shouldn't be promoted as a solution and it sucks that liberals are so closed in their own world that they can accept that their politicians are complicit in genocide as long as they consider them a lesser evil and that's it sucks, especially that liberals don't care about genocide as long as it is convenient in political matters for people to vote for their beloved party, and everyone who is critical suddenly becomes war criminals for them (Even though they choose the party that supports Israel and is Zionist…)

Harris is a bad person (For you, her silencing the strikers with a text about Trump should be a fucking red flag), she has a history of supporting Israel (Colonizer, propagandist and genocidal), so the fact that you are so naive that you believe that electing her will lead to a breakup US relationship with Israel is so fucking naive (And yes, you are stupid yourself because you bought the lies) that the fact that you promote it as fact shows how much you believe in propaganda

You liberals are simply the last ones to call others stupid and evil, because you are that way yourself

Now that I have your attention:

[drarry-is-totally-cannon]

Drarry & The Goblet of Fire: 4th Year Rewrite

Chapter 8 ~ The Quidditch World Cup

Harry arrives with the water, having only sloshed a bit onto his jeans, which he counts as a win. Outside the deceptively small tent, Mr. Weasly struggles with a pack of matches. At least twenty of the small sticks lie discarded and broken at his feet, still, he shows no signs of frustration, merely curiosity.

Taking pity, Harry heads over to him, setting his pail carefully down.

"Would you like me to show you, Mr Weasley?"

Ron's father nods enthusiastically, "Oh, yes. I'm no Molly, but I'd like to have something passable on the table before we head over to the arena."

Harry chuckles. Arthur Weasley talks about his wife as if he fell in love with her yesterday. Harry can't even remember Aunt Petunia saying anything about Uncle Vernon at all.

Harry doesn't bother asking him to just use the perfectly good fireplace inside the tent. He already heard him scolding Fred and George for trying to open the windows. "We must appear as muggle-like as possible." He reminded them, despite the blatant magic that fills the air around them.

"Well, it takes a bit of practice, but what you've got to do is . . ."

-

A quick learner, Mr. Weasley gets the fire started in only three more tries. Harry carefully stores the matches in his pocket, safe from Mr. Weasley's innocent destruction.

"Where should I put this?" he asks, gesturing to the pail.

"Oh, right, Ginny told me you were fetching water. You were gone a while you didn't get lost did you?"

"Oh, no. I was with Dean and Seamus."

"Good, yes, I saw Mr. Finnigan earlier. Poor man, he said he was used to all this, but these things are a bit much for anyone. He seemed alright though. He may be a muggle, but he's still Irish. Ah, right, just leave the water here, Molly packed ingredients for soup. 'Said there's no way I can mess that up. Ron and Hermione have gone to get souvenirs, you probably find them at one of the stands."

"Thanks." Harry nods and runs off again, not missing Percy telling some poor little girl and her nana off for shooting fireworks. Something about the statute of secrecy.

"All this noise? How can anyone work? Of course, Mr. Crouch is having no trouble, I must strive to be like him. I cannot be late with this report!"

-

It's easy to spot the cart of Bulgaria merchandise even through the mass of tents. The whole thing sparkles red.

"Hey!" Harry greets his friends, causing Hermione to jump. 

"Harry! Where have you been? We haven't seen you since we got here." She frets over his glasses, still askew from ducking and dodging sparklers. 

"And what are you wearing?" Ron asks, aghast. he'd been eyeing the Bulgaria scarves.

"Oh, never mind that we were looking for you." Hermione continues to fret, sounding an awful lot like Mrs. Weasley, while Ron glares at Harry's gaudy Irish pride-wear. Truth be told, he'd forgotten he still had it on.

"I was just getting water for the soup." It's part of the truth. "Seamus gave me this, I didn't exactly want to say no. The Irish are scary when they're excited."

This distracts them. "Soup?" Ron's face pales slightly, "You mean, dad's cooking?"

"Yeah, is that bad or something? He said he wasn't that good but . . .?"

"Be afraid Harry, be very afraid."

-

The soup went mostly untouched, which was probably a good thing seeing as it was an odd green-ish colour despite containing only carrots, beef and potatoes and some herbs, nothing that should've resulted in that colour. In Harry's opinion, it even slightly resembled the polyjuice that he, Hermione and Ron had brewed only a year and a half ago. He thinks Hermione saw it too because she exchanged a glance with Ron as he passed her the salad.

Only Fred was brave enough to try it after a dare from his twin and younger sister. He's looking a little green now, but he braves the steep arena steps without complaint.

Behind them, Harry, Ron, and Hermione munch on the snacks Harry and Hermione bought from the souvenir cart, hiding them behind their backs when Mr Weasley looks back to ensure they're still following.

As they reach the next landing a new group of wizards join them. With their neat black clothing and nearly white hair, there is no mistaking them.

"Bloody Malfoy," Ron grumbles through a mouthful of Crowley's Crackle N' Pop Crisps.

The elder Malfoys don't seem to hear Narcissa and Lucius chatting superficially with Mr. Weasley, but the youngest turns around, sneering.

"Yes, Weasley."

"Sod off, Malfoy," Rons says, words still slightly muffled.

Draco just laughs, a high and sharp sound, and turns around without a word. If Harry hadn't been watching him so closely he would've missed the wink and slightest nod of his head towards a lower platform.

The group starts walking again, and both Ron and Hermione look expectantly at Harry, usually, he would've said something to Darco by now, some insult or another, but after hearing Mr. Malfoy in the woods, the words don't come easily. Certainly, they're there, he knows in his head exactly what to say. 'Yeah, sod off, you slimy git!' but it seems so unnecessary a response to what was barely an insult.

Still, it would seem weird if he, a boy known for standing up for his friends, did nothing so he mutters "Arse." just loud enough for Draco to hear but not his parents.

A moment later, as they reach the Minister's box, Harry hears the quietest whisper, "Like my arse, do you, Potter?" The continuation of their joke from earlier makes Harry nearly choke on his crisps with laughter. 

"You fucking wish, Malfoy," he says, the laughter disguising his words just enough. The adults give him funny looks.

"Enjoying yourself, Mr. Potter." Minister Fudge says amicably.

Harry sputters, trying to compose himself. "Oh, er, yes. This is such a wonderful event that you and Mr. Bagman have put together."

The Weasleys and Draco glance at him, the statement is clearly out of character, but both the minister and the Head of the Magical Games and Sports Department are pleased with the flattery.

"Indeed. May the best team win." Bagman cheers, but it isn't hard to tell who he's cheering for. Fudge seems to notice this as well, as he quickly tugs Bagman's flashing team scarf off, trying to maintain composure.

"Take that thing off, Ludo. We're supposed to be impartial." he hisses, before returning to his chat with the Irish minister.

"Hey, it was a gift from him." Bagman points carelessly to the Bulgarian Minister sitting a few seats over, making conversation with Lucius Malfoy. "How was I to tell him I can't take it? He doesn't speak a word of English."

Harry looks behind him to find that the Weasley boys have already scattered around to the railing, preoccupied with the omnioculars Harry bought for himself and Ron. Hermione, meanwhile, is in an odd position.

She sits on her knees, backward on one of the chairs, looking down between the rows.

Understandably curious, Harry walks over. "Hermione, what are you doing?"

"This is Winky," Hermione says, clearly distressed.

"Winky? What the hell is a 'Winky'?"

-

The green fireworks are brilliant, but no one is looking at them anymore. Everyone's eyes have been drawn down towards the field where about ten women dance. They're majestic, supernatural, extraterrestrial, and Harry has no earthly idea why but they remind him of Draco. Maybe it's their dazzling white blonde hair or the elegance with which they move. He can't think of the reason. He can't think much of anything right now.

The next thing he registers is a hand grabbing his wrist and pulling him away and down a set of stairs. He wants to protest. He doesn't want to stop watching the dancing women. He feels like were he to do so, something horrible would happen though he can't think of what.

As he's pulled, Harry turns back for a second and sees the other young men in a similar trance-like state, while the older gentleman politely looks away. He sees Hermione, unphased and still trying to console the drunken elf as she covers her large ears against the chants.

He whines when the dancing women disappear from his sight entirely.

A slender finger flicks his nose and the warm fuzzy feeling dissolves, or rather fades, not gone just diminished. 

"Oh, stop drooling, Potter. You're surrounded by much prettier girls every day." Draco, it seems, hasn't missed a beat, his tone is sarcastic as usual.

Absently, Harry notes that the resemblance between Draco and the women has increased in the dark spot under the stairs. His hair seems to glow, lighting the small space. But it's only for a second, and then it's gone. 

'Probably just all the arena's lighting charms anyway.'

Harry rolls his shoulders and stands up. He hadn't realised how slouched over he'd been, watching the women. He feels a little sick from the trance like he'd been drugged. His head swims and he grabs onto the closet thing he can find which is, of course, Draco Malfoy.

Draco blushes. Harry doesn't notice. 

"'The actual bloody fuck was that? What are those things? I was about to . . ." Harry searches for the right words, sifting through the memories tinted by the fuzzy glow, "Jump off the railing or something. Thanks for getting me out of there." He can still hardly believe what he'd been about to do.

"Yes, and I just saved your life, Potter, now you owe me now. You were acting like even more of an idiot than usual."

'Like I wouldn't do anything for you.'

"Obviously." Harry grits his teeth, embarrassed about his reaction. He risks a glance back at the women, but they look entirely different now, snarling, with bony wings piercing through their backs like Renaissance paintings of fallen angels. The fuzzy feeling is gone, replaced by disgust. 

Yet even now, it makes Harry uneasy, like they're something that could be used to distract the masses during an attack. But of course, thoughts like that are merely a side effect of constantly being hunted. Still, Harry jabs an accusatory thumb at the bird-like creatures and asks, "What. The hell. Are they?"

Draco looks almost like he wants to laugh, but then thinks better of it, seadying Harry and explaining calmly. "They're Veela."

"And Veela are?" Harry prompts, a little angry, though he's not sure why. Every other male and a few females were doing just the same as him, all heart eyes and open mouths.

"Veela are one of the few hundred species of humanoid magical creatures. Most of the time they appear as beautiful people, but their true form is that." Draco frowns down at the screeching creatures. "It comes out whenever they get angry or are preparing to attack prey. Don't worry they won't attack now, they're just throwing a tantrum."

"You can understand them?" Harry asks.

Draco ignores the question, pressing on with his textbook-like explanation, "They also go by the name 'Sirens' or 'Harpies'. They're the less prevalent but more violent cousins of the Water Sirens, also known as Merpeople. They're also somewhat connected to the fae evolutionary line. Some live in forests, some live in coastal areas, and some are nomadic. No matter where they live, they enchant prey, lure them, and then go in for the kill. Bulgaria's mascots are female, so they didn't work on me. Obviously."

Harry rolls his eyes, "Let me guess, I was in the hospital wing when we learnt this?"

Draco laughs, "No." then he hesitates, "Actually I only so much because they're part of our family history." He doesn't continue, looking suddenly wary.

"Oh, did your family like to fight with them for land or something?" Harry asks, thinking that this is something Hermione would find more fascinating, or perhaps distressing given her reaction to Winky's treatment.

Draco looks slightly offended, "Who do you think we are, Harry, some band of pillaging thieves."

" . . . Well, we are British."

Draco cocks his head, not understanding the reference to muggle museums that Harry had been dragged to on the occasions Mrs. Fig couldn't take him.

"No, the Malfoy family has always had excellent relationships with magical creatures. Actually . . . my mother is half Veela." He waits, studying Harry's face, waiting for him to make an expression of disgust like he what he gave the creatures earlier.

But Harry is silent, a thoughtful look on his face. He doesn't know what to think, but he knows that it must have taken a lot for Draco to tell him this, to reveal that the supporting pillar of his superiority complex is a lie.

Maybe Harry should feel like his world has been shaken by this revelation, he doesn't know. All he knows is that his first thought is 'That's really cool.' even though that's lame if you're older than 10.

'Potter actually taking time to consider something? This is bad, bad, bad.' Draco can feel himself beginning to shake.

But all Harry says is, "So you're not a pureblood?"

". . . Yes." The words are nearly inaudible amidst the cheers and jeers of the rabid audience around them. After a second Draco speaks up again. "Father doesn't talk about it. Mother doesn't do much either. Mother doesn't have the same mother as her sister. Her father had a short relationship with the Veela who would become her mother when he was in France for his travels. But the Veela didn't want a child or a family, she was a nomadic forest dweller, a friend of the fae, so she left my mother in the care of my Grandad, who was heartbroken. I've never met my mother's mother, but at least Grandad's wife is nice. Mother says it's important to know about your history so we visit Grandad in France a lot. Dad doesn't come." The last part is said quietly.

Harry has the sudden urge to hug Draco but doubts that Draco would enjoy that even if the boy looks sadder than he's ever seen. He does nothing for a moment, then, "I'm sorry."

"I don't need your pity, Golden Boy." The words lack vitriol, and then gathering his composure, Draco finishes his explanation. "Since Veela are so rare, they don't get talked about much. They're sort of controversial. It's kind of a 'Wizards leave them alone and they leave wizards alone' thing."

"Oh, good to know, I guess?" Harry eyes the hissing creatures as ministry officers escort them from the field. They go less than willingly.

"There isn't too much known about them, and they like it that way. Most wizards, unless they're researchers, never meet one. Professor Quirrel told us he did, but . . ."

Both boys snort.

"Yeah, he probably wasn't the most reliable, after all, he had a lot going on in his head."

With the terrible pun, they descend fully into ache-inducing laughter, not noticing the players of both teams racing onto the field for introductions.

The boys turn to watch the ceremony silently.

Even with the deafening noise, it's still too quiet. Harry's ears ring.

"Have you ever been to a game like this?" It's a stupid question. 'Of course, he has. What's wrong with you?' Harry mentally smacks himself.

Draco doesn't look at him like he's stupid, or scoff, surprisingly. He just nods. "Yes. I sit somewhere in a box like the ministers by myself while Father schmoozes."

'That's sad.' Harry thinks, watching Ireland's chasers without really seeing them. It's getting too loud again, and the feeling of foreboding is back.

"Can you tell me about them? The games, I mean." 'Anything, really. Just to fill the silence, just to make this ringing stop.'

Draco nods and launches off into the story of the latest Magpie's game he attended. His words are coloured with rare smiles. And Harry watches him, taking every one of those smiles in as if he'll never see it again. Maybe he won't.

'He looks so different.'

And when Harry looks away, back to the game he so loves, allowing Draco's voice to blend into the background, it's Draco's turn to stare.

'He never looks at me for long. Like it hurts him to stay in one place for more than a few minutes. Is that because of He-who-must-not-be-named?' He sighs.

Meanwhile, Harry is more than a little annoyed with himself, for paying so little attention to his favourite game when this is probably his one chance to go to an event like this. He barely notices when Draco passes him a pair of Omnoculars he brought from home. He takes them wordlessly.

Events like these are regular occurrences for Draco so he takes this opportunity to stare at Harry unabashedly.

'He's so still now, focused. Merlin, he's something when he concentrates. Summer holiday almost made me forget. But more than anything, he looks at peace, content, and happy. I could never make him look like that, not when the last war drags behind my name like one of Mother's capes. I don't even know what Mother and Father's part in it was and yet that is all he'll ever see when he looks at me. Should I ask him? Would he tell me?'

-

The boys watch in silence for a while longer. Harry watching the field and Dracow watching Harry. But it isn't long before they get talking again, at first about the plays and then about home, or in Harry's case, the Burrow, and then about school.

Harry stops himself just as he almost mentions Sirius. He wants to, so badly he wants to, he's never wanted to tell anyone about his secret so much before. 

'The Malfoy's are related to the Blacks, right?' Harry remembers seeing the two names together when he was searching for Nicholas Flammel in first year. 'That would make Sirius, Draco's cousin. He wouldn't rat out his own cousin, would he? But then there's Snape . . . that complicates things. The Malfoys are close with Snape who hates my father, and Professor Lupin and probably anyone who knew them. Does that carry over? I know they'd hate my muggle-born mother, or at least Mr Malfoy would, but Sirius is a pureblood. No, better safe than sorry. Even if Draco wouldn't snitch his father might force him to, and then the ministry would catch Sirius.'

With Harry's hesitation, the conversation comes back to the topic both boys have been avoiding. How could it not when thoughts of Voldemort swirl violently in both of their heads?

Draco's face darkens. "Harry . . ." He says his first name hesitantly, worriedly, so different from the affectionate 'Potter' that's become a nickname.

Shyness isn't a trait Harry has seen in the Slytherin boy since he first approached him in the Library in second year. It looks wrong on him. Harry looks up, meeting grey eyes with his own green ones. Hoping to stare as intensely as Draco does, though he doubts he will succeed.

"Yes, Draco." Whatever it is Harry just wants him to just spit it out instead of fumbling around the bush. The feeling of bad things on the horizon has Harry on edge, he doesn't want to waste time

"H-has your scar been hurting, or anything like that?" Draco looks down as he says it.

"What?"

"You heard me." Draco snaps, then softer, the desperation he's worked so hard to hide leaking into his tone, "Please don't make me ask again."

"Oh, okay. . . . Yes. How did you know?"

"It's just that you mentioned last year that it hurt whenever He-who-must-not-be-named was near."

"Yeah, I did say that." There's something in Draco's voice that has Harry on edge. He's heard him jealous, annoyed, angry, smug, joyous, but never like this, never so devastatingly afraid.

"Have you noticed anything off lately . . . like any signs?" The question is vague, and they both know it.

"Signs? Like on the road? You know I'm only 14, I can't drive yet, not that the Dursleys would let me." The sass is only meant to fill the silence. The words dissolve into the thick air, almost as if they were never said.

"It's just that . . . I . . ." He stops, opening and closing his mouth a few times only for no sound to come out. The air is thick enough with sparklers and shouts to wrap itself around you and squeeze the air right from your lungs.

"Look, Draco, whatever it is, you can say it to me. I've gotten great at keeping secrets, and if it's about Voldemort I need to know!"

Draco flinches at the name, at Harry's sudden intensity, but nods, exhaling heavily, "I think something is going on, a-and I-I think it has something to do with my father."

Harry's eyes widened. "Your father?" But it isn't hard for him to believe. He saw how easily he'd slipped that book into Ginny's caldron that day, even if he hadn't noticed the practised motions at first. But Draco is his friend, he doesn't want him to have an evil father, impossible as it may be for him to do anything about it.

Draco's lip trembles. He knows it too. He didn't see the slip happen, but he heard whispers at home about the monster deep in the bowels of the castle, heard enough to slip the page to Hermione in the library. He knows, even if he wishes he didn't, even if he wishes he could unhear everything and be happy again like when he was younger. He knows, and as much as anyone would like there's no way he can't.

"Yes." He doesn't continue, not trusting himself to hold it together. He curses the weakness internally.

Harry waits, trying as best he can to tamp down the reflexes that tell Draco to spit it out and listen patiently. When he sees that words are failing him he decides to go first.

"You know, I've been having this dream, but it doesn't feel like a dream." It's the first time he's told anyone, "It feels like I'm really there, like somehow I'm seeing something through someone else's eyes, but I have no idea whose, and no idea why. The dreams are different every night, but they always have the same few things. A snake, and this man who looks about a half step up from complete madness. And they're plotting to kill someone . . . I think they're plotting to kill me."

Draco's looking at him now, focused and thoughtful, calming down. 'Good. I don't like seeing him so worked up, it's wrong.' So Harry continues.

"The latest one was an old house. The Riddle Estate, his estate . . ."

-

When Harry finishes Draco doesn't look calm. He looks even more panicked before, hands gripping the railing so hard his knuckles turn white. He pushes it down, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, calming himself before he speaks.

"So you think that he's back." He doesn't even want to say it aloud.

"I don't know what to think. I thought he was gone in the first year, then his diary came back, but the diary was destroyed so he shouldn't be able to, and yet . . ."

Darco nods, looking out at the crowd. 'All those people, thousands of people . . .' He tries to imagine the size of the crowd with all the muggle-borns, and half-bloods gone. It doesn't look good.

"Father has been talking about an event to happen at school this year, but there have been . . . other things as well." He can't look at Harry.

"Other things?" Harry has to prompt Draco again. It's like he can't make himself say the words like he's too afraid that will make it all real.

"He's had these people over."

"What people?" Oddly, as Draco keeps talking Harry grows more patient, not less, maybe because he can see the other boy fraying at the edges, a singular thought eating at him.

'I knew my father wasn't a kind man, but is he an evil one?'

"I- I don't know but they all wear these big black cloaks, like dementors. They go to the basement and lock the door, but I can hear them through the vent in my room. The things they talk about, Harry . . ." It's the second time today he's used Harry's first name, only about the third time ever. "Horrible things. Making Hogwarts more selective is one thing, but torture is-" a sob cuts him off, "I- I think my father is a murderer . . . I think he's one of them! And I think they're planning to do something tonight!" 

Draco crumples in on himself. Normally he looks older than Harry, so much more mature, and polished, but now he's just a 14-year-old boy who doesn't want a monster for a father. He might like to play at it with his friends, but he doesn't want anything to do with real evil.

Harry is deeply confused. "One of whom, Malfoy? Do what?" He feels the slightest bit awkward using Draco's surname after Draco hadn't used his.

"Death Eaters, Potter, Death Eaters. Don't tell me you don't know!" He sobs again, distraught, face buried in his hands.

Harry doesn't know. He doesn't know what Death Eaters are. He doesn't know what to do with the sobbing boy at his feet.

"I don't." he says stupidly, feeling less like 'The Chosen One' than ever. He's said a lot of stupid things today. 'Another pattern.' he thinks bitterly.

This only makes Draco sob harder. "They're his followers, Harry. Who else would they be!?" The words are thick under the tears. Harry doesn't need any more clarification. The dream invades his mind again, the gardener once again falling at his feet, eyes still wide in shock from whatever reptilian creature he saw in that chair before his untimely death.

Struggling to blink away the green, Harry kneels down, levelling with Draco. Normally he's the paranoid one, and Ron is assuring him that nobody is trying to kill him. "Uh, look, Mal- er Dr- Malfoy, thanks for telling me, but even if he is a Death eater, Voldemort is dead, there'd be no point in trying to follow a dead guy. . . . And this event has got loads of security, like everywhere. There's no way anything could happen." It isn't comforting, and Harry knows it. He doesn't even believe what he's just said, after all, Hogwarts is the most protected place in England and Voldemort already got in once.

Obviously, Draco isn't comforted, but neither boy needs to mention that, so he just sinks further into himself. Then after a while, Draco looks up, his face like a small child, "Are you going to tell anyone?"

He should. He knows it. But with Draco looking at him so desperately he can only ask, "Do you want me to?"

Draco shakes his head, then nods, "I don't know."

'He's still Draco's father. Would it be better to have an evil father than no father at all? I'll never know, but we shouldn't rush into this. His father is a respected member of the Ministry, an accusation would likely be dismissed unless there was heaps of proof. I doubt some suspicious meeting would get it.' Harry feels as if he's been momentarily possessed by Hermione with how much careful thinking he's done today.

'What would Hermione do? Hermione would want to give someone the benefit of the doubt. She'd gather as much evidence as she could, analyse it, and then make a conclusion. The Scientific Method. But if there really is to be some sort of attack tonight, then we haven't got much time. And with the way Mr. Malfoy looked at Draco earlier . . . like if he couldn't be useful he shouldn't exist at all. I didn't like it. Having him spy would be definatley dangerous.' He doesn't know exactly why or exactly when the thought of Draco getting hurt became so utterly off the table, the same as Ron or Hermione.

"Okay, erm, I believe you. But let's just take this slow. We need proof. And he's still your dad, so-"

"I know that!" The words are supposed to sound biting, Harry thinks, but Draco's voice is too broken.

Before Harry registers his movement he's against Draco, arms encircling the crying boy, pulling him closer, as if only Harry's arms could keep him safe. 

Draco freezes, then leans into it. They stay like that for a while, neither of them knowing how to end the contact without seeing the awkward look that must surely be on the other's face. Eventually, they do separate, both blushing, and both ignoring it. Wordlessly, Harry helps the still-stiff Draco back to his feet.

Footsteps behind them make both boys freeze like deer in headlights, but it's just an old woman and a young girl.

'Aren't they who Percy was yelling at earlier?'

"Oh, no need to stop on my account," she assures them as she walks by, smiling sweetly as she lets her granddaughter lead them back to their seats.

At this, the boys spring apart, as if having just touched hot metal.

"Sorry." Harry offers dumbly. "It's just Hermione, she likes to be hugged when she's upset, and Ron always hugs Hermione and me so I thought- Whatever."

Draco nods but gives no more response.

The two don't touch again, standing an awkward distance, too close for enemies but not close enough for friends. Strangers.

[harry-sussex]

I don’t know why I am surprised. I feel like I have been getting glimpses of the true Meghan (whom I loved) since Oprah. But for her to confirm this in such a vague way that she can wiggle out of it later if it serves her purpose it so fucking disgusting. Like I am genuinely disgusted. And where the hell is Harry? If this is all true why isn’t he the one confirming as it supposedly happened in front of him (I think. The story keeps changing)? To do this to Kate and Will (and Charles)…he must truly be so filled with bitterness and hate…I just…can hardly fathom it. It’s just so horrible.

I said all of this just about word for word to Vanessa and Arantxa last night. You and I are so on the same page - for some reason, I am also surprised, but you’re right, neither of us should be at this point. I loved her - I loved her so so so so much - I bought a dress from her SmartWorks collection, I have the cookbook, and I have the denim J Crew dress she wore to Wimbledon because I adored her and I idolized her. I flew to England alone to join their wedding festivities! I held onto that feeling for SO LONG (way longer than I should have, way longer than any of the other rational Harry girls out there) and now she has broken my heart in a way I never could’ve fathomed. There were some hmmm moments in the earlier years but they were so minor that it wasn’t enough to change the fact that I loved her anyway - everyone can vouch for it. I LOVED her. The slightest of shifts started with Oprah but I was firmly in their camp for months afterwards until it started getting really bad. Even then, I didn’t really see it in full until it kept going and going and going, culminating in Endgame. It’s over, my friend. It’s so, so over.

God, we were so blind. I know I was. Rose colored glasses. I loved her! I loved loved loved her! There was so much potential! They could’ve taken over the world! I always say “how much worse can it get?” and somehow it always does! You’re 100% right - they can’t keep it straight! How can you believe it even happened when one day this “person” said it to Harry himself, and the next day it was to Meghan, and then the next day he heard it through the royal household grapevine, and then the next day it’s blatant racism, and then the next day it’s a subtle unconscious bias that is perfectly forgivable with some education, and the next day it’s “I never said that, the media just manipulated my words and ran with it,” and then the next day and the next day and the next… It’s hard to believe any of this nonsense even happened because there have been 15 different stories! It’s even harder to believe that they’re blaming Charles and Kate! Everything they’ve said since they’ve started talking completely contradicts what Omid wrote! And this applies to literally everything! Not just this, but with so many other things! Nothing ever lines up - nothing ever makes sense - it’s all so fake! WHO in their right mind could possibly believe any of it when the story changes every day?

Falling out of love with her has broken my heart - but now, it’s inevitable. How can I continue to defend this? How can I continue to grasp at straws trying to understand their POV when it changes every 20 minutes? I still believe that they suffered so, so much but the details are so hard to believe. The worst part? They could both literally pass a lie detector test because they’re so convinced that they’re right - they cannot see how much they contradict themselves or how, every time they speak, they lose a bit more credibility! They’re so clearly doing this for attention because nobody in their right mind believes them anymore! How could you? There’s no credibility left! The well has run dry! They’re convinced that they are “speaking their truth” but they’re lying at every turn - maybe one version of the story is the truth, but who the hell knows? Only a maximum of one story can be true but there are 15 stories for everything! God, I have lost every ounce of idolatry I once had for her and realizing it after all this time hits like a freight train.

The way Meghan went about this is literally nauseating - it’s all to grab the headlines (and, hence, the almighty dollar) while still being able to rescind and avoid a lawsuit. Omid too, he’s not innocent. They both know EXACTLY what they’re doing.

And you and I are thinking about what nobody else seems to be - where the HELL is Harry? What the fuck is he thinking? Which one of them is really doing the talking? Yesterday’s leak from the Sussex camp about “not intending to name names” quoted Meghan only - not a word about Harry. It’s his family! His father, brother, sister-in-law! Why isn’t he owning this as much as Meghan and Omid are? Not for nothing, Omid doesn’t even sound like he believes what he wrote - it sounds like he just regurgitated whatever bullshit he heard from the Sussex camp. WHY ISN’T HARRY TALKING? Why isn��t he defending his wife? Is he hiding in a basement somewhere (or, god forbid, a hotel) waiting for the storm to pass - until it comes time to ruffle the waters yet again? What is their goal? What is their LITERAL endgame? Will it continue forever? When will it stop? How far does it have to go before someone, anyone - the Waleses, the King and Queen, the media, Harry himself - forces it to stop? What the literal fuck is going on?

[sailtomarina]

Don't be rude

It was her first true outing in months since The Breakup of All Breakups, a.k.a. the amicable separation of Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley. She hadn’t allowed herself a moment of respite since that awful day and the many awful days that followed as possessions were split, home addresses were changed, and friends divided up as if they, too, were goods rather than nuanced human beings. 

The choosing of sides by the Weasleys and the Potters and the Longbottoms wasn’t expected given the peaceful nature of their split, but a natural movement of pieces as priorities overlapped. Of course Ginny celebrated her brother’s first day as co-owner of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes rather than Hermione’s birthday— Harry was her husband and he logically went the same way. However, Neville never neglected Hermione’s special day, gifting her a new potted plant each year, and since he married Pansy Parkinson, that meant Hermione had made an unlikely friend with her former enemy, one who had softened considerably under her husband’s unyielding warmth and caregiving.

Friendship with Pansy meant a great deal of new realities for Hermione: a trending closet, regular visits to the hair salon and spa, frequent work lunches at the next up-and-coming restaurant, and a refusal to let wallowing breakupees lie for longer than strictly appropriate. 

Hermione’s time of mourning was over. Pansy’s evening of frivolity had arrived.

Look like a million galleons 

Grab the attention of every single available person, as well as the taken ones

Drink at least one alcoholic beverage per venue

Dance with at least one person

Take one kiss before the night is finished

“Pansy, this list is ridiculous.” Hermione stared at the parchment. The third was the only plausible item, as all the others were far beyond her natural capabilities.

“Are you wearing the outfit I put out?” came a voice from the kitchen.

“Yes, but—”

“And did you do your hair and makeup the way I showed you?”

“Yes, that, too—”

“Then the first one is already done.” Pansy popped into her bedroom at last, nodding her approval at the sight of Hermione where she stood in front of the mirror. “Perfect. You’re going to knock them all dead.”

“I don’t want them dead. That defeats the purpose entirely.” Hermione glanced back and forth between Pansy and the mirror, a dubious expression on her face. Her tamed curls did look fantastic, and her eyes particularly beguiling with her emphasized lashes. So that just left…

“How much was this outfit?” The two-piece affair included a dark green velvet mini skirt that hugged her rump, while the black halter top exposed her midriff, shoulders, and the entirety of her back. 

“Tsk, tsk, don’t be rude, Granger. You don’t just ask the cost of a gift like that.”

“That’s how corrupt politicians are bought.”

“Are you a politician?”

“…I could be.”

“Yes, well, until that day, accept my gift and slay like the bad witch that you are. Let’s go!” And with a snap of her fingers, Pansy was off to the Floo. She didn’t look behind her to see if Hermione followed—she knew the witch thrived off of praise and clear directions. 

Hermione followed her because she was a bad, bad witch, and she did want to slay tonight and every night after. She deserved it.

Hermione neglected to confirm in all her preparation for frivolity the location and audience of their destination. What welcomed her upon her toss of powder and seemingly innocent pronouncement of “The End of the Rainbow” was a club. Not a nice, familiar pub. Not a classy restaurant. The premier magic club, complete with tangible rainbow pathways connecting the levels instead of stairs. Their Floo dropped them right in the main entrance next to several other fireplaces, a transportation zone that rivaled the Ministry’s. This decision wasn’t for show, but necessity, as The End of the Rainbow was the largest nightclub of its kind in existence, housing several smaller, unique clubs within its grandiose structure, each one with its own theme and branding.

“I think I’m going to be sick.”

“Oh, no, no, no, honey, it’s much too soon for that.” Pansy’s sharp bob didn’t sway an inch as she executed a swift step and twist, handily swinging Hermione 180 degrees away from the fireplace and out towards the colorful atrium to stand beneath a board floating on literal clouds.

“Pansy.”

“Granger.”

“Please tell me those aren’t actually leprechauns with pots of gold over there.” The men in question cackled as they sifted coins through their fingers, winking at passerby as if tempting them to try and take their treasure. She remembered how Ron reacted to the reality of their illusions at the World Cup.

“If it bothers you, then don’t look. Just read the board and let me know what interests you.”

There seemed to be a venue for every fantasy: standard-variety muggle clubs, a unicorn forest for witches only, a Hogwarts Graduate School where “students” had the choice of being re-sorted into their dream house, and even Alexandria’s Library for bibliophiles like herself. Her hand gravitated towards the latter.

“Hermione!”

Daydreams of ancient scrolls and men in togas (unrealistic, but it was a fantasy after all) screeched to a halt at the call of one of her dearest friends. Luna pounced on her to deliver a hug surprisingly strong for a woman so slight.

“No!” Pansy dodged the girl’s attempt to grab her next, squeaking as she backed up into the arms of her old friend and Luna’s latest flame. “Blaise!” Luna took advantage of her beau’s positioning to sandwich Pansy in with an enthusiastic squeeze.

“Hey, Pansy. Granger. Happy birthday.”

She might not know Blaise Zabini very well yet, but she did enjoy the way in which he played off of Luna’s energy. “Thank you. I take it Pansy invited you along to witness my torment?”

“Of course she did.”

Her stomach once again dropped at the sound of the third voice, equally evocative as it was aggravating.

“Malfoy.” As Hermione’s eyes settled on his form, leaning far too casually against a pillar, his arms crossed against his stomach, she cursed Pansy, the entire Malfoy line, Salazar Slytherin, and Merlin himself for his presence. No man should possess such physical form, as if stolen from Adonis himself–those shoulders, that waist, his ass (Circe, help her), those quidditch thighs, a face fitting of the son of a woman named Narcissa…and that hair. Her housemates used to make fun of his sleek, pale locks in school, ermine-like in quality, but now all she wanted to do was fist it while riding him to exhaustion. 

“Earth to Granger.”

“Hm?” She was caught in his gaze, as cloudy as they were confusing every time she looked into them.

“Her-mi-o-ne.”

This time, the use of her given name zapped her into movement. She missed the smirk that crossed Malfoy’s face as she swung around to respond to Pansy who wore a disturbingly delighted expression.

“Have you decided where you’d like to start the night?”

“You have to promise not to laugh.”

“The library, I take it?” he drawled from behind her. 

Hermione refused to look at him again. “Precisely.”

“Well, it is your birthday and we are here to entertain.”

Before Hermione could lead the charge, Pansy darted forward, looping her arms into Blaise and Luna’s and leaving the remaining two behind.

Damn her.

“Shall we?” 

He stood very close, elbow extended. It would be rude of her to ignore it, and Pansy did already tell her to not be rude.

She took his arm.

“Not too fast? These heels are ridiculous.” Hermione waved her free hand at the death traps on her feet.

“Of course, though they do make your arse look fantastic.” He grinned at the blush that swarmed up her neck and onto her cheeks. “How much do you want to bet there isn’t a single tome in their supposed library you haven’t read?”

“Pfffffft, that’s too easy.”

Walking and talking with Draco Malfoy felt as natural as breathing, if Hermione were to be truthful to herself. He led her effortlessly up the curve of the rainbow towards the towering columns. She imagined this as an actual date, rather than the machinations of a Slytherin graduate to help her recover from heartbreak. They halted just under the archway, monolithic faces peering sightlessly down on them.

“What should we bet on, then?”

He’d turned her to face him, arm relaxing to curl his fingers along her arm before dropping to his side. She stared into his chest, mere centimeters from her nose–he smelled of bergamot, rosemary, and sandalwood. Inhaling deeply, she similarly gathered her courage and looked up.

“How about whether or not I’ll tick off every item on Pansy’s to-do list?”

He searched her eyes, the barest hint of a smile playing on his lips, before responding. “And what’s on this list?”

She broke eye contact to reach into her purse for the parchment, which she handed over silently. The hint turned into reality as he laughed fully, an unfettered sound she rarely heard but now wished to hear every day.

“I’ll bet on you fulfilling this list,” he said at last, wiping tears away from his eyes and still chuckling to himself.

“And what do you demand if you lose?”

He glanced upward at the club they still had yet to fully enter, before turning his warm smile back on her. “How about unlimited access to the Malfoy family library?  Forever.”

Good Godric. Even after the Ministry gutted their library after the war, there were still priceless treasures to uncover within its walls. Hermione had seen the records noted by the cursebreakers; she knew she could spend a lifetime studying the tomes within and still not put a dent in the full knowledge available.

“...and if you win?”

She wanted him to lose. She needed him to lose. Nothing else could match open-ended entrance to the Malfoy library.

“One date.”

She blinked. Opened her mouth, then shut it again without speaking. Hermione looked for what had to be a joke, but came up with nothing but genuine want in his gaze. She didn’t move as he brought one hand up to brush against her jaw. He leaned in slowly, so slowly, until his lips just hovered above hers without quite touching.

“What do you say?”

She answered him by bringing her own hand up, fisting that perfect hair just like she had always wanted, and pulling him down to close the distance between them.

That was item 5 complete–the rest of the list now seemed trivial. What had she been worrying about this whole time? Hermione’s heart swelled within her chest, beating in defiance of her seeming heartbreak as if to say, “I am here. I am wanting.”

They parted their connection with a gasp and it was several seconds before Hermione found the presence of mind to answer his question.

A couple weeks later as they snogged against bookshelves in Draco’s ancestral home, Hermione finally said yes to revealing their relationship to their loved ones. Pansy was insufferable in her gloating. It didn’t matter who won or who lost, because in the end, they each got what they wanted, which was, of course, each other.

WC 1879 I got into this prompt far more than I expected when I first started it late last night. I might be convinced to extend it into something more substantial if there's any interest :)

[partly-hueman]

Woman of the year!

How weird is it that as we near the years end and awards begin coming out for "such and such" of the year so many :woman of the year" awards are going to men.

Dylan Mulvaney won an award from Attitude Magazine out of the UK as it's "Woman of the year". How low is your opinion of women that you pick a man to be the "Woman of the year"?

Minnesota did it earlier this year when "Leigh" Finke won. This is "Leigh":

That Frankenstein's monster of a man in bad make-up is a better woman than ALL of the women in Minnesota. Take ALL of the mothers, teachers, doctors, lawyers, bus drivers, assembly line workers, single mothers with two jobs, educators, advocates, waitresses, cooks, janitorial staff etc.

Leigh is a better woman than all of you. Leigh hasn't experienced being a young girl, never had a period or any of the bodily and mind changes that young women go thru. He has two kids, that is Trans widow gave birth too, but he has no idea what motherhood is.

He's still a better woman than the 2.811 million women in Minnesota. THAT is how little the Democrats and the morons who voted this creature in as woman of the year think of you.

I'm not here to talk to about Leigh. Fuck that AGP having psychopath. No, I want to write about my buddy. Dylan Mulvaney. The Non-Trans Transgender identifying man who makes waves everywhere he goes. If toxicity and social poison was a person it would look like Dylan.

The social misfit, drama club overly flaming twink who clocked his "days of being a 'girl'" and got himself a carte blanche visit with Grandpa Joe in the White house and a letter of congratulations from Kamala Harris because they obviously have nothing else to focus on than to celebrate the erasure of women as a sex class in society and law.

I digress.

In his interview with Atituide Magazine Dylan is quoted as saying: “And some people don’t see me as a woman at all. No matter how hard I try, or what I wear, or what I say, or what surgeries I get, I will never reach an acceptable version of womanhood by those hateful people’s standards."

At his age I'm lost as to why he doesn't understand that sex isn't an attitude, a feeling, a performance, a costume, or body parts repurposed or purchased à la carte — and that it can't be changed — and my stating so doesn't make me hateful, just sane and tethered to reality. At best, #dylanmulvaney is a vacuous narcissist and a shameless grifter. At worst, he's a bought-and-paid-for Gender Industry shill, knowingly helping to obliterate sex classes and sex-based rights. Either way, he's entirely undeserving of awards or accolades, except maybe the Most Heinous Piece of Shit Award, for which he should receive a statuette of himself sculpted from monkey feces, and a one-way trip to the moon. Just get that piece of garbage off my planet.

Dylan will always talk about the challenge of his being seen as a woman. He'll do it because Dylan is an actor who is getting rich pretending to be a man pretending to be a woman. But that's what he is: A man pretending to be a man pretending to be a woman.

WOMAN OF THE YEAR: DYLAN MULVANEY

I expect to get a lot of push back for my language and the subject matter but once again I want to write. If you get offended or angry I want you to know that with each cell in my body I don't give a baboons red ass what you think. Stop erasing and endangering women and transing kids you fuckin ghouls. Don't lie it? Cope, seethe and dilate.

[semperama]

I was tagged by @jouissants to answer these book questions. Thanks, friend!

An estimate of how many physical books I own: Too many and somehow still not enough! My guess is somewhere in the ballpark of 150? 200 maybe? Probably no more than 200.

Favorite author: WHO can pick a favorite. My usual answer to this is Wally Lamb, but it's been so long since I've read one of his books, I'd have to think about whether that's changed.

A popular book I've never read and never intend to read: Pretty much any blockbuster YA novel, but to pick something theoretically more in my wheelhouse: One Hundred Years of Solitude. After white-knuckling my way through Love in the Time of Cholera, I just can't do it again.

A popular book I thought was just meh: The Night Circus. That book was all concept and no execution, to me.

Longest book I own: Probably either The Stand or It, not sure which is longer. Stephen King loves to put out a crazy-long book.

Longest series I own all the books to: Stephen King's Gunslinger series, which I actually still haven't read, oops.

Prettiest book I own: My mom just bought me an edition of Anne of Green Gables that has a really pretty illustrated cover.

A book or series I wish more people knew about: Ummm I don't know, I'm so bad at ~discovering niche books on my own. Most of the time I'm reading books that are either classics or well-reviewed or talked about a lot. I guess one book I really enjoyed that I haven't heard many people talk about is The Inn at Lake Devine by Elinor Lipman. I think I saw it on a list somewhere as a recommendation for people who like the movie Dirty Dancing, and it ended up being so unexpected and really, really great.

Book I'm reading now: Just finishing listening to Lie With Me by Philippe Besson on audiobook, and I checked Weyward by Emilia Hart out from the library, but I haven't started reading it yet.

Book that's been on my TBR list for a while but I still haven't got around to it: So many, because I'm very slow at reading lately. I've started reading East of Eden approximately 20 times and never managed to finish it, so let's go with that.

Do you have any books in a language other than English: I have many, because my husband and father-in-law buy me books in other languages whenever they travel somewhere out of the country. I have the first book in The Witcher series in Polish, the first three Harry Potter books and Alice in Wonderland in Hebrew; Pride & Prejudice and Jane Eyre in French; and The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe in Japanese.

Paperback, hardcover, or ebook?: When I buy a physical book, I prefer hardcover, because it bothers me how beat-up paperbacks get so quickly. These days I almost exclusively read ebooks though. It's just so much easier to have them in my phone, and I'm out of space on my bookcases anyway, ahaha.

tagging: @psicygni, @apeacebone, @boxboxlewis, @blamemma, @veryspecificfantasies

[policemanofprincesspark]

If you’ll just let me rant in the hopes Louis might see this, I was a dark Larrie (since 2014 and then started a dark larrie blog 7 years ago) but as of that last bashing where he rolled his eyes and said “conspiracy theories” again, and made us out to be loonies, just short of calling us crazy, I’M JUST DONE.

He has put his oldest AND most loyal fans in danger, by setting US up as crazy, and making US targets of crazies, all because he won’t deny Harry and their relationship? And If you are in a relationship, then lie and find a way to throw YOURSELF under the bus instead of your oldest and most loyal fans!!! I was so disgusted by that last interview, I have just HAD IT.

Plus, let me just say, that if you’re planning on having a gaggle of kids with Harry, it’s gonna be tough for both of you to stay in the closet. Somebody’s gonna have to take the kids to school, after all. And unless you’re planning on keeping them chained up in the basement of the farmhouse on the estate you just bought with Harry, I’d figure out a way to end all this nonsense.

Because after going to Louis’ concert last summer, where he sung OFF KEY and only interacted with the first 10 rows, said virtually NOTHING between songs (hello? How about an anecdote - places, inspirations, funny stories about people you know, etc), what was the point in going? To spend too much on a ticket and a very poorly-made expensive tee shirt, just to be SHAT on by this idiot because he’s uncomfortable in answering an unexpected interview question truthfully???

Larries have never liked Louis. He's got a bad case of internalized homophobia. I truly don't think that he's ashamed of being gay and I think that he loves his culture, but I think he's on his guard about how most people perceive him. He hates being seen as "gay."

As for the kids aspect, they're rich and likely have a nanny if they have kids.

Louis is shy and reserved. He's the type to give one-word answers to interview questions. Unless he's got a story to tell or a joke to make, then all of a sudden he gets a little confidence boost. I'm a lot like him in this regard because we both have ADHD.

[nsfwmiamiart]

Incoming Text for @zoesaldana and @rosariodawson and @salmahayek and @halleberry:

Subject: "You can relax, I have a better solution. I found a better way to protect my intellectual property. I bought a typewriter just like the author Stephen King. I will write novels and you turn them into screenplays. Problem solved."

Hey Zoe, Rosario, Salma, and Halle!

I've decided to get rid of my computer. It's the only way to protect my intellectual property. If they can't access my computer, they can't steal my work. They're all getting kicked out of my house now.

I bought a high-quality typewriter, and I'm going to write books instead of screenplays. Screenplays require too many people, and too many people see my work before I can protect it with a copyright. Do you understand?

My dear Zoe, Rosario, Salma, and Halle, let me give you an example:

"If you had the very first copy of 'Harry Potter,' would you write it as a screenplay and let everyone see it, or would you write it as a novel to protect it with a copyright?"

The answer is simple: "You write a novel and protect it with a copyright first. Then, and only then, do we let screenwriters reproduce what they read in the novel. Do you understand?"

Two simple steps will help us win every copyright infringement court battle in the future. We have to use this system for all our future screenplays:

Step 1 - I write a novel (it doesn't have to sell millions of copies; it can sell only 50 copies). Step 2 - We use the story in my novel to write a screenplay. That way, we have proof that we owned the novel's copyright before it was made into a film. The screenplay will be our intellectual property too.

Do you understand? It's a brilliant idea that will save us time and energy. This way, we don't have to argue with criminals in the Hollywood system who want to read our screenplays and steal all our ideas before we even protect them with a copyright.

I'm a warrior, and I never leave home without my sword. Get it? My novels will become my sword, and I will protect all my novels with a copyright. This is how my sword will injure all my enemies.

I will never write screenplays. I made a vow today because they spy on our computers when we write screenplays, and they read our screenplays before we get the time to protect them with a copyright.

This is why I decided to never give them an opportunity to steal my hard work. I spoke to Stephen King, and he told me the only true way to protect your hard work is to write it on a typewriter. They can't spy on a typewriter.

So that's what I'm going to do. I will use a typewriter from now on. No more computers.

I will follow this process for the rest of my life. First, I write the novel and then I protect it with a copyright. Only then will I allow people to read my work and turn it into a screenplay.

The thieves will get caught. They can't lie about a printed book, am I right?

Here's a short joke, read below:

Angelo says: "Okay, all the talentless billionaires need to get out of my house now. I know you spent a lot of money to spy on my IP address, but what did you find? Nothing. Do you know why? Because I bought a typewriter. How about that? Now get the **** outta my house and go find another writer to steal from."

Talentless billionaires say: "Okay, you got me! I was gonna steal everything from you, but you outsmarted us. You kicked us out of your house. Damn you! Stephen King, why did you have to give him advice? Now he has a typewriter, and no one can spy on a typewriter. Or can we? No, we can't spy. We have to leave you alone now. Dammit! Oh, darn, I was looking forward to stealing all your work."

Angelo says: "No wonder there is a creativity shortage in Hollywood. It's because you bully the screenwriters by stealing their hard work. You guys are horrible. That's why we see so many bad movies now. Where are all the talented screenwriters? They left Hollywood because of the mass intellectual property theft that became unbearable."

Corrupt cops say: "Hey, don't forget about us. We were about to steal your hard work too. We can't help it. It's in our DNA to steal from talented screenwriters. It's kinda fun actually. We don't have any talent, so we figured why not steal the poor fella's ideas and screenplays? It's easy money for us. We have access to your IP address, you know? All we have to do is just steal your work. It's that easy."

Angelo says: "Oh, yeah? And how's that working out for you so far? Get the **** outta here and go write something original instead of spying on me, you talentless pricks. All of you are corrupt. I will make it my life's mission that you never get a dime from my creativity. Bye, losers."

The end of the conversation with talentless people.

I hope you understand what time it is, ladies. It's "TYPEWRITER" time.

I will write many books over the next year, and you will come pick up your manuscript. It's that simple. You will find a screenwriter friend who will do all the work of turning my novel into a screenplay.

Once I write the novel, it's up to you to find a trustworthy screenwriter friend to turn my novel into a screenplay.

The end.

Your friend,

Angelo.

P.S.:

Synopsis of the Letter:

Angelo has decided to protect his intellectual property by abandoning his computer in favor of a typewriter, inspired by Stephen King's advice. This shift is to prevent unauthorized access and theft of his work by those who might spy on his computer. He outlines a new strategy: writing novels first to secure copyright protection before converting them into screenplays. Angelo emphasizes the importance of this method to safeguard their creative efforts from being stolen by unscrupulous individuals in Hollywood. He humorously addresses the so-called "talentless billionaires" and "corrupt cops" who attempt to steal his work, declaring his commitment to this new approach. Angelo concludes by informing his friends, Zoe, Rosario, Salma, and Halle, that he will write novels over the next year, which they can later adapt into screenplays with the help of trustworthy screenwriters.

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

Back in the era when Kirk Douglas's famous films were made, screenwriters didn't have the luxury of computers or screenwriting software like Final Draft. Instead, they relied on typewriters and manual methods to format their screenplays to industry standards. Here's how they did it:

1. Typewriters:

Screenwriters used manual or electric typewriters to write their scripts. This was a labor-intensive process since any mistakes often required retyping entire pages. Editing was also more challenging because it involved physically cutting and pasting text or retyping pages from scratch.

2. Formatting by Hand:

The format of a screenplay was standardized long before computers and software. Screenwriters adhered to these standards manually. They were trained to understand the industry norms for margins, font size (usually 12-point Courier or a similar monospaced font), line spacing, and page breaks.

The standard formatting included 1-inch margins on the top and bottom, and 1.5-inch margins on the left with 1-inch on the right. Dialogue was indented, and action descriptions were justified to the left margin. Scene headings (sluglines) and transitions were all capitalized and formatted according to strict guidelines.

3. Script Girls and Continuity Clerks:

On set, continuity clerks (often called "script girls" at the time) ensured that the screenplay was followed accurately during filming. They kept detailed notes on script changes, shot sequences, and ensured that everything matched the screenplay.

4. Manual Revisions:

Revisions to a screenplay were also done manually. When a screenplay needed changes, writers would insert new pages labeled with "A," "B," "C," etc., or with color-coded pages to indicate different drafts or changes.

5. Industry Standards:

The industry standards for screenplays were well established by organizations like the Writers Guild of America (WGA). These standards dictated how scripts should look and be presented, which all professionals adhered to, ensuring consistency across the industry.

6. Storyboarding and Pre-visualization:

Storyboards were often drawn by hand to visualize scenes before filming. This helped directors and producers understand how the screenplay would translate visually, but it was a separate process from the scriptwriting itself.

7. Collaboration and Communication:

The process was more collaborative and less solitary than it might be today. Writers worked closely with directors, producers, and other members of the creative team. Frequent meetings and discussions helped ensure that everyone was on the same page, even without digital tools to share and edit scripts.

In summary, screenwriters of that era relied on typewriters, manual formatting, and strict adherence to established standards to craft their screenplays. Despite the lack of digital tools, they managed to produce some of the most enduring and influential films in cinema history.

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

Yes, there are a few well-known screenwriters who have famously written their scripts by hand in notebooks. Here are some of them:

1. Quentin Tarantino

Tarantino is one of the most famous modern filmmakers known for writing his scripts by hand. He has often said that he prefers the tactile experience of writing in notebooks, which allows him to get into the flow of his creativity. Many of his iconic scripts, including Pulp Fiction and Kill Bill, were first drafted by hand.

2. Paul Schrader

The screenwriter behind Taxi Driver and Raging Bull, Paul Schrader has also been known to write his scripts by hand. Schrader’s writing process is deeply introspective, and he has mentioned that writing by hand allows him to connect more intimately with his thoughts and ideas.

3. Guillermo del Toro

The Oscar-winning director and screenwriter of Pan's Labyrinth and The Shape of Water is known for his detailed notebooks. Del Toro fills these notebooks with handwritten script pages, sketches, and notes that capture his imaginative ideas and visions for his films.

4. Woody Allen

Woody Allen, the prolific writer-director known for films like Annie Hall and Manhattan, has traditionally written his scripts by hand. Allen has mentioned that he prefers the process of writing on yellow legal pads and finds it helps him focus on his ideas.

5. Noah Baumbach

The writer-director of The Squid and the Whale and Marriage Story is known to write his scripts by hand. Baumbach has spoken about the simplicity and focus that writing by hand brings to his process.

These screenwriters, despite the availability of modern technology, choose to write by hand for various reasons, often citing the creative freedom and the intimate connection it gives them to their work.

[flippedorbit]

this series is funny but i have to note it gets kind of fucked up so. tw for manipulation, child death ofc, medical talk (specifically medical malpractice), and suicidal ideation for like one sentence.

also this is going over multiple games with multiple endings to each, I've just kind of condensed the only ones that really matter or are lore-important in any way. (also the timeline is absolutely jank and, while easier to follow along, is just as convoluted as the fnaf timeline since it is like. a fnaf parody game.) ((also also this is. like. a huge wall of text. my bad.)

radical/aubergine/gnarly/bad ending timeline (yes it does really have that many names.)

>dr henry miller starts fredbears family diner with william afton

>scott(?) starts freddy fazbears pepperonerie (an obvious play on fredbears family diner) and it INFURIATES henry (and william because henrys angry)

>henry does fucked up experiments on william (lobotomizes him to some degree, takes out his organs, etc etc etc) in an effort to “cheat death” and become immortal

>henry manipulates william into killing children because it would "let them live out their happiest days forever" and william, due to growing up homeless and unhappy, whole-heartedly believes this because yk why would henry lie about that

>henry tells william about his dead son, david, and william imprints on this and renames himself to dave miller (he takes henrys last name after he passes but for now im just going to call him dave miller)

>dave works at ffp and kills children there while henry kills children at ffd

>henry is murdered and ffd is bought out by ffp, leading dave to work at ffp

>dave meets jack kennedy (the protag and the person you play as) at ffp

>dave negotiates with jack that since hes a "clean slate" he should help him murder five children, jack agrees and they Do That

>phoney (named steven as a person but the phone guys are a Whole 'Nother Thing that would take too long to explain) becomes suspicious and dave and jack frame him

>dave and jack scurry off to vegas

>rinse and repeat this cycle in dsaf2, but dave gets springlocked and shut away in the saferoom

>in dsaf 3 dave(trap) is found rotting away in a building by jack and goes on a monologue of how he "knew he wouldnt leave him alone" and jack takes him back to his new restaurant that jack now owns (uncle jacks family diner or whatever its called)

>davetrap and jack kill children, phoney (harry) flips and im pretty sure they kill him? i cant remember

>davetrap springlocks jack to give him "immortality" and they go to vegas

>davetrap goes on a brief rant about how he realized he was never happy because jack never knew who he "really was" and confesses to being william afton

>davetrap takes jack to his "fazbunker" (note this is just the same place as we see in fnaf sister location) and shows him a chest containing a red scarf and other memorabilia from murders he’s committed

>jack has a realization that this is his dead sister dee's scarf and comes to the correct conclusion that dave/william killed his younger sister and framed him back during the ffd days

>henrys ghost "controls" jacks mind kind of ?? and jack kills dave out of pure rage about his sister's death (and how it basically spiraled into ruining his entire life)

good end/saved end/”THE end”

>everything is the same as before but this time you decline everytime dave asks you to kill kids and instead work with dee/the puppet to save the children via the happiest day minigame

>jack finds davetrap rotting and declines taking him back to uncle jacks family diner and davetrap sobs and cries and yells about how he shouldve known he would do this to him and begins begging jack not to leave him alone, but of course jack does and jack heads home

>jack goes into "the flipside" and sees dave just kind of. chilling. jack is reasonably caught off guard and they have a neat little meet-cute where dave explains the flipside is where souls come to chill

>dave makes a portal (this is never explained btw.)

>jack and dave find dees ghost here and it revealed shes the puppet

>dee engages jack and dave in battle because she doesnt believe dave is "truly sorry" and thinks jack is making some sick joke at her expense

>if you succeed in escaping the battle, jack explains to dave that this is his sister and dave has A Moment where he explains how henry told him he was helping the kids by killing them

> dee decides hes just kind of. pathetic honestly. and decides she can live with this if it means she can save the dead ghosts

>jack fucks off back to the reality and does reality shenanigans like running his business

>he comes back and they go into a portal to the second floor

>on the third floor we meet steven whos been just kind of. there. the entire time. and he INSTANTLY assumes theyre there to kill him and makes them battle robots until they find him huddled in a corner

>he instantly starts rambling about how he cant be saved and how they should just leave him (its implied that by this he means hes going to?? die if they leave him?? as if he isnt already dead??) because he was a terrible person to jack, peter, and dave

>jack says thats in the past and he is still worth saving because they’re here to save EVERYONE and he joins their team

>dave makes another portal and they head down to the last level of the flipside

>jack fucks off to go do business stuff again

>jack comes back to the flipside and they scurry around until they find peter (jack and dee remark about how "this is peters house" (i forgot to mention the floors are all designed around memories and this one is based off peters house that jack lived in after he was killed))

>they find peter and he remarks about how hes just a trap and everyone is confused

>jack’s soul appears in the form of “blackjack”, who is taking the form of jack’s dead dog sparky. blackjack is enraged that jack even exists, believing himself to be “the real jack kennedy” 

>they fight henry and during it he takes down everyone by nitpicking their deepest insecurities, besides jack who then revives them all and they kill that bastard

>everyone leaves except for dave and jack and it’s revealed that since jack doesn’t have a soul inside him he cannot go with, so instead he gives blackjack off to dave so that he won’t be alone

>jack burns down his diner with him and every freddys animatronic inside and the plot of land is turned into a gravesite for william/dave, jack, dee, peter, and steven

and that is the entirety of dsaf's lore. these games are insane and I love them. :-) -ren

oh my

[profoundmakerdreamerss-blog]

I really am awed at this take — like I'm just speechless. It's like to get your point across you're turning Harry into this dark character with no heart whatsoever. And that just doesn't sit right with me? I'm all for recounting characters' flaw but not in the expense of turning them into a caricature of what they are the supposed to be.

You have, somehow read seven books but decided that Harry Potter's forgiving nature is a lie? Oh, that's because of GRoominG. It's not like he can be kind. It's not like after 11 years of abuse that does numbers on a person, he decided to be selfless? First year? Harry Potter — who barely gets to eat at his aunt's place, the first thing he does is share his first bought food with his new friends (he gives Neville his last chocolate frog because he looked sad). He sees Hermione is not there? Is the first one to go after her while KNOWING there iS A TROLL. Who taught him that? Who groomed him into that? He could have left. No one came to help him when dudley chased him, no one was there when little harry cried himself in the cupboard. Yet, he chose to save her. To him that is right. That is his moral, the moral you think Harry lacks. He decided to be what no one was ever for him.

Harry Potter, has never hesitated to save someone when they need him to. Now, I would understand if you have a different definition of morals. But textbook definition is the ability to sense what is right and wrong. And he has it. This whole thread sounds so Twitter-like. Like, how you have gathered all his flaws to turn him into an immoral piece of shit. Which is such a disservice to his character, and honestly he doesn't deserve this.

Funnily enough, your biggest gripe with him is his description of people around him. But somehow, the first thing you bring up is how the people in YOUR examplws are being HORRIBLE to him. And, maybe that is because YOU might be a saint in real life or you might be someone who never used a single unflattering word to describe people around you in YOUR MIND. Which, if true I bow down to you.

However, the thing is everyone is judgemental. And you have to be conscious enough — know yourself enough to tell yourself, “hey, that's not very nice, I shouldn't THINK that.” BUT, yes there is a but — this is a TEENAGER we are talking about. A teenager who is being wronged in every single example you used. And also you, for some reason used draco using a negative word to describe Molly Weasley. Not Harry. And you wanna know when Harry gave the unflattering description of Draco? The moment he talked bad about Molly. It's funny how you give the context while blatantly ignoring it.

And what do you think Draco thinks in his mind when he talks to Harry? “Harry, with his gorgeous vivid green eyes looked at Draco, as his lovely lips twisted into a snarl—” bestie, no. Also, my biggest gripe with this whole example is that you somehow don't understand or know teenagers. Because my god, are they mean. And compared to them? Harry is a saint.

That doesn't mean harry should be praised for these thoughts. But, you want to know what these makes him? Human. He doesn't hurt people using his thoughts like Malfoy does. He keeps his judgement to himself until provoked. He bites back when he's bitten first. And with the life he leads? If he doesn't bite back, he gets eaten.

I don't know, man. This feels to me such a righteous rant. Like, you guys do know humans are judgmental? Everyone is. It's like you're taking things that make him human, to turn him into a monster lmao — he's a teenager, a teenager who gets unflattering thoughts about people, who BULLIED and ABUSED and TRIED to use HIM.

Moving on, it's funny how you used SPEW as another example of him not having morals. The thing is, the opinions you showed are other peoples'. Harry doesn't have any opinions about spew. SPEW is a badly written plot-point which pisses me off. JKR could have done so many things with it but she abandons that plot. Which is just bad writing on her part or maybe she just tried to do more than she could chew. She said SPEW was apparently supposed to show bad activism. Basically, Hermione not planning and just bulldozing into freeing the elves without researching and talking to the elves — which ends up not working. Which COULD have worked if JKR expanded on it. She could have made Hermione succeed as she learned from her mistakes, could have been such a great arc for her character and for the elves in general.

But aside from that; if we ignore jkr's bad writing for a second and see what or lack of thereof reaction on Harry's part meant. I have said this before, and I will say this again. Hermione is the one sees the bigger picture, who saw how elves can be mistreated and decided to act on it. She is right but the way she went at it was wrong. That's why they get kicked out of the kitchen, Hermione sneakily trying to free was not what something the elves liked. And she didn't talk to them. (As I said, bad planning on her part and a lack of understanding on how to approach this topic.)

As for Harry, he might not react like Hermione — that doesn't mean he doesn't have morals because wtf? He is the first person to see how elves can be mistreated and he is the one who goes out of his way to free Dobby WHEN he was twelve IN FRONT of the guy WHO is the reason why there was a basilisk attack in the castle. THIS shows Harry's moral compass. This shows how he does what is right. Hermione is more politically inclined while harry tries to help people he can reach.

This brings me to the other point. You talked about Marietta and how that shows Harry's apparent lack of morals. Bro, if we go with that logic — doesn't that mean Hermione has even less morals than him? She locked Rita in a jar, for months. She is the one who scarred Marietta for life? Which is too much, too "immoral" if you are thinking all Marietta did was snitch on them out of fear.

And THIS is where the moral dilemma comes. We, as readers can judge them, can say well, that's too cruel. We can. We, who aren't fighting in a war can nitpick every single thing a soldier does because that is not morally right. However, do you think a soldier has the time or the privilege to follow the text book moral code? No.

And this brings to my other point. The DA wasn't a school club. The members were all literally in danger of dying and were training for the life of death fight they all basically acknowledged was coming. Even if they wouln't be killed by Umbridge in the short term obviously, if found out, it would mark them and their families as loyal to the wrong side in the long term. And now, imagine being them. Imagine knowing this — imagine being the person who gets tortured by umbridge daily. Imagine, trying to save as many people as you and Then. Then someone tells on you. Dooms all the people you were trying to save. And then comeback to me and tell me that I gave them a pat on the head. Because they were scared. It doesn't matter that they doomed so many childrens' life. I mean how dare Harry be angry. It's not like he's going to die — oh. Wait.

But either way, this is getting too long lmao but I really dislike how keep banging on the fact OmG HaRRY had SnAPe as him role mOdEl because he namEd his son AfteR this awful man. LMAOOO bro. You missed the whole point. See, I keep calling Harry forgiving because of this part. The thing is, I don't agree with the names. I find them tacky and I feel bad for the children but I understand JKR's point or the reason for using them. See, Snape wasn't a good person. I never really liked him as a person but that doesn't mean he didn't do great things, that doesn't mean he wasn't brave. This is what Harry saw. Even though this man is literally one of the main reason his life was literal hell, he CHOSE to forgive. And it was no grooming or whatever bullshit you want use for every positive trait harry has. He chose to see past the fact that this man is one of the reason why his parents' are dead. But he chose to see that this is the man who gave up his life to fulfill lily's last wish. He was brave, even if he sucked.

I was 12 when I read the last book of HP. And those were my thoughts — how forgiving Harry was. The names were an acknowledgement to the people he respected, as evil as they might be — harry knows they are evil, they have made his life horrible — he chose to forgive and move on. But the names are still horrible lmao

Either ways, it's so fucking long now I'm sorry you have read this word vomit I just hate when Harry is literally hated for things everyone does. You know I can take even the kindest text book character and turn them into an apathetic villain if I just state their flaws right?

To me, Harry is someone with staunch moral code no matter how harsh life maybe. He is forgiving through and through. He isn't callous and he doesn't go out of his way too kill people. He helps and saves people or TRIES to everytime. He always puts others before him. At the end of the day, he might be a grey character but that is why I love him.

See, the thing is we can nitpick the trio as much as we want. But they are the type of people who will be there when world goes to shit. Harry jumped in a fire for Malfoy who went there to kill him. Hermione protested for elf rights even when everyone shut her down. Ron would jump in the fire for you if you're his friend. Harry went out of his way to be kind to Luna right after his GODFATHER DIED. He asked her if he could help her in anyway; when just a few minutes before he was crying and screaming at Dumbledore because his life sucked.

This is why I love Harry so much. No matter what, he always stood up when people needed help. He was always kind even if life was hell. He might not be the saint; but he is still a kind boy who gave his best.

it's so funny to me when harry's portrayed as a saint in tomarry fics. like, i get it, compared to tom, harry is a saint, but just because of that, it doesn't mean he's the nicest, purest little bean.

harry's literally fatphobic, unless it's towards people he likes. he calls people ugly with no remorse and he's side-eyeing someone 90% of the time.

he's against hermione's dedication to at least try and free the elves (which is basically being neutral on slave labour)

he idolises questionable people (dumbledore and snape)

he uses the cruciatus successfully. he nearly kills someone and barely feels any remorse for it (draco in hbp)

no matter how much you want to believe, his moral compass isn't the best

[sweeethinny]

Jilytober - Day 26

Baking together/with friends - day twenty six

jily lives again :)

@jilytoberfest

---

''Harry told me he wants to go to a party,'' Lily was chopping onions, carrots and tomatoes while James was making the dessert. ''He told me he already talked to you,''

''No, he didn't talk, he just mentioned this party, but I figured he'd want to go,'' James poured the chocolate into the fudge batter, sighing. ''And? What do you think? I don't particularly see any problems,''

''I don't see it either, but it's so weird to think of him going to parties,'' Lily placed the fries on a platter. ''Wasn't it yesterday that he liked to lie down with us to watch movies?''

''Yeah, time goes by fast,'' James grimaced, still not quite sure how to handle it. ''I think he wants to go because of a girl. He's already made it very clear that he wants a haircut and needs new pants,''

''Heavens...'' Lily chuckled softly, pouring the wine into the hot pot to begin deglazing. ''Yeah, we're getting old, baby... But I think he can go, it's going to be good,''

''And we can enjoy having a night of our own,'' James looked at her with a mischievous smile on his lips. ''What do you think? Me, you, a good restaurant, wine…'' It had been a while since they'd had a date, Lily had to admit, so it wasn't such a bad idea.

''I like that,'' She put down the pans for a second and walked over to him, kissing him and feeling him smile against her lips. ''Are you going to wear that suit?''

''Only if you wear the white dress I saw you bought,'' His lips were sweet, he'd probably eaten some of the chocolate he was chipping, and Lily thought that if there weren't any pots on the fire and Harry wasn't in the living room, she would fuck James right there.

''Okay,'' She managed to pull away, licking her lips. ‘’Well, everyone won…’’

[jimblejamblewritings]

yes, i’m a squib | end.

Summary: Y/N Black has always been a squib, to the dismay of her pureblood family. Cast out to the orphanage at a young age, she thought that was her life. Until her relative Sirius Black breaks out of Azkaban. Suddenly a letter to Hogwarts in thrusted into her hand and Y/N becomes a true part of the magical Wizarding World.

Warnings for the Series: violence, death, light smut, angst, fluff

Pairing: harry potter x black!reader, cedric diggory x black!reader

Word Count: 9.5k

Previous Part | (Series Masterlist)

The wolf stuffed animal greeted you. It was only after you picked up Teddy from the crib that you noticed it was there. Then you heard the clattering of pots and pans. You left your bedroom to see Kreacher trying to figure out the muggle TV that you bought— Harry had brought in one of the wizards in the Technology Department to set it up in the early morning. You could also see Harry’s back as he waved a wand to move ingredients into bowls.

“Good morning,” you said. “When did you get back?”

He turned around with a smile. “This morning. First lead ran cold, we have to start the search again which means desk work right now. You’ve done amazing with the house, it looks good.”

The house had taken longer to figure out than you wanted to admit. The giant wiggentree in the middle of the space required some navigating but you didn’t want to get rid of the plant or shrink it at all. The cooking was left unattended for a moment so Harry could give you a kiss. It had been four days without him but after a year apart everything felt too long. Both Teddy and Padfoot complained, you and Harry pulled apart rolling your eyes at the two very annoying members of your family.

“Molly sent a patronus. I went over for tea yesterday and she couldn’t help but complain that her youngest son seems to have taken off with her second youngest to chase some Death Eaters without stopping by to say hello,” you said.

“If Ron and I had stopped by she would have found a way to stop us from going.”

“It’s called being a worried parent, Harry. Next time send her a patronus at least.”

“I will. You got a lot of muggle stuff, Dan was shocked at seeing a telly here. Do we need a blender?”

You sat Teddy in his highchair. “It’s quicker to puree the baby food.”

“Or you could use the Elder Wand, it’s yours, love. It gives you magic. That’s what you always wanted.”

“It was but… I got this far without having much magic, I feel like maybe I don’t need it now.”

Harry nodded in understanding. He was so eager to escape the muggle world because of all the bad memories attached to it. His entire life with muggles was framed by the Dursleys. Harry couldn’t really see himself going back unless he needed to. He would always fight for muggles but living with them, doing things their way, wasn’t for him. But you were the opposite. You were basically a muggle as far as the wizarding world was concerned. All their technology was your magic. Muggles were your escape. So while he wasn’t sure if he would ever give up the Elder Wand or if the family really needed an ice cream maker, he understood your choices. He looked over his shoulder as the eggs cooked and laughed to himself. A house-elf attempting to understand muggle technology was quite a site.

“Harry?”

“Yes?” That would never get old to him.

“You’ll be here next week right? I’m going to open the store officially.”

“I’ll be here.”

For a moment, you thought it was a lie because he and Ron had been gone for three days. But an hour before the official store opening, Harry was back. The opening was a celebrated affair. You expected that. Everything you and the others did was reported on. It put a dent in your idea of living a normal witch’s life. The fireplace in the Hogsmeade Post Office saw lots of use as visitors came through to check out the place. You were glad you decided to install a broom rack by the front door. Harry tried to stay in the corner with Teddy but everyone wanted a picture with him— especially while he was still in his Auror uniform. The store was a plant lover’s paradise. You might be the Alchemy teacher for the upcoming school year but even then you focused on Spagyric and you wanted to return to your Herbology roots.

It wasn’t just a store but a cafe. Most people just came to take a picture with you and Harry, maybe buy some wiggentree seeds or a bag of dried nettle tea. But a few people stayed for tea. The menu was limited. Nettle, white, black, or house-blend tea along with Kreacher’s hot chocolate were available. The house drink was naturally a Shirley Temple. Pumpkin pasties, roasted pumpkin seeds, fruit, Lupin’s chocolates were the only foods served. Shots of potions brewed by you could be added to any drink. A lot of your students stopped by, excited to be in your class in a few short days. The crowds died down as the afternoon went on. Harry refused to let you clean the tables the muggle way and used magic instead. You closed the blinds when the bell rang as the door opened. You went to give your cousin a hug.

“Sorry, I’m so late… it’s Thursday,” Draco said.

He gave a wave and nod to Harry. Your boyfriend did the same before retreating upstairs with Teddy. You told Draco to sit at any of the small tables while you brewed tea. You came back with two cups and a pumpkin pasty for the two of you to split.      

“How was Aunt Narcissa’s trial?” you asked as you tore the treat in two.

“It got thrown out. Between you and Harry’s statements, they dropped her case.” Draco put the cup to his mouth.

“Is it good? You always brewed a better cup.”

“It’s perfect,” Draco said as he set the tea down. He looked around the store. “Mum divorced Father.”

“Draco…”

“I’m actually glad. He stopped being the dad I looked up to when I turned fourteen. The divorce doesn’t matter much, he’s going to Azkaban anyway. We didn’t even try to help him.”

You grabbed your cousin’s hand.

“I feel like I should feel guilty but I don’t,” he said.

“It’s alright to feel that way.”

A heaviness lifted off of Draco and he sat up a bit straighter. His years of balancing his views and suppressing them to survive his father and Voldemort were finally over. You saw a light come back to him that hadn’t been there for a long time. His smile actually reached his eyes again. Harry came back down a little later to drop off Teddy for Draco to see. As he held the baby, Draco reached a conclusion that you had as well. The Black family had been cut down by so much. Only four of you existed and only one had the family name. Soon— he assumed— the one name would turn to zero. Maybe it was for the best. The Black family had too many aligned with dangerous blood purity views. A family of purebloods but also a family of friends to dark wizards. Besides, the line itself wouldn’t be dead. Just new names to start over. He gave you one more hug before taking his broom off of the rack near the door and flying off.

You all went to King’s Cross a week after the store opening to see Hermione off. She wanted to take the Hogwarts Express for her last year. Ginny stood with her as you gave them both hugs goodbye. A lot of people from your year were returning— Dean had given you a wave only moments ago before getting on the train. It might as well have been an eighth year with the amount of your former classmates returning. Only a few— like Neville, Ron, and Harry— went straight into work and didn’t go back. Mr. and Mrs. Granger were actually there. You said hello to them and, while nervous, they greeted you all back. The smile on Hermione’s face grew a bit as her parents seemed to approve of you all.

“Do you have everything?”

“Yes, Dad,” Hermione said with a laugh. “Trunks are packed, we bought everything.”

“Just checking.”

The summer and therapy had really done her family well. You all had been taking therapy. Harry, Ron, and Neville used the therapist provided by the Auror’s Office. You, Dean, Luna, and Ginny went to the same therapist named Dr. Cresswell. Cresswell was actually a recommendation from the Auror Department. You liked her because she had a baby mat in the corner for Teddy to play on during sessions. You also liked that she didn’t push too far, too quick. That’s why so many of you went to her. She understood the time it took to get comfortable and open up.

The train whistled to let everyone know there was about five minutes left before it took off. Ron and Hermione kissed and she gave you and Harry one last hug before heading inside. Harry adjusted Teddy on his hip— the baby was getting heavier as the months went on. Romilda Vane walked by with some other girls, giving Harry a wave. You scoffed and put a hand on Harry’s chest. He was holding a baby for heaven’s sake and she was still flirting.  

“You know you don’t have to worry about Romilda Vane,” Harry said as he turned to you.  

“I still don’t like her,” you muttered as you waved goodbye to Hermione who poked her head out of her compartment window.

He chuckled while giving you a kiss. You guys left King’s Cross and took Teddy to a muggle diner for lunch— he had finally stopped changing hair colors all the time that you thought it was alright to try it. His hair tended to match you and Harry currently. You and Harry laughed when the waitress sat you down. Both of you expected that someone would question your ages but people only came by and said how Teddy was a cute baby. You two looked at each other and realized that you still wore the effects of war on your faces and in your body language. It would be a minute before you looked like your age again. The two of you shrugged at each other and simply started eating.  

1 Year After the Battle:

The familiar faces of DA members looked at you as you entered with Harry. Teddy was with the Weasleys. He was supposed to be with Molly but Bill and Fleur wanted to babysit in preparation for starting their own family. Multiple reporters came into the room followed by Kingsley.

“I know you all want to put the past years behind you but you are a part of history. The reporters are here for interviews for the biographies. The DA will go with these three and you four will go with these two reporters here.”

Everyone went into the rooms they were led in. You, Ron, Hermione, and Harry looked at each other. Being in the Golden Quartet meant standing out yet the four of you seemed to forget that quite often. The DA was all going to be in a thick biography, maybe even two parts. The Golden Quartet? Each of you were getting your own book. They wanted to know your lives from start up to now. What you all saw as mundane became more and more questions. They wanted your childhoods laid out and your adult lives and plans mapped out for them to publish. You were all asked questions in rounds. They wanted you all together in the interviews especially for when you became a group.

Barely a dent was made in the years of your lives before the session was over. You would be coming back often until it was done. It was exhausting reliving everything. The very thought that the next time you went to Diagon Alley you would see your face plastered on a book covered was tiring. At some point, your students would pick up that book and you’d have to see it whenever they stopped by the store for their Alchemy lessons. No matter how normal the four of you tried to make your life, you would always be famous.

Bill was changing Teddy’s diaper when Fleur opened the door for you and Harry. You both made the same face when Fleur asked how the interview went. She chuckled and led you into the home. Teddy, whose hair quickly changed from red to black, made grabby hands at you. You picked him and poked at his cheeks which led to a smile and a bit of spit-up.

“Thanks for letting us watch him,” Fleur said. “It was hard but delightful.”

“Do you two want kids soon?” Harry asked.

They both nodded. Bill said they were thinking of trying for a family. You told them that they were welcome to take care of Teddy whenever they wanted— secretly you hoped they would take you up on that more often than not. Neither you or Harry would complain when Teddy was around but he wasn’t easy. You two had planned on being his babysitters before the Battle of Hogwarts, the best godparents a kid could have. It had been a year but it wasn’t any better. The time that you and Harry wanted to take to just be alone with each other wasn’t really there anymore. But no one aside from you, Harry, and the therapist needed to know that. Teddy would never be made to feel some kind of way.

~~  

“Not going to lie,” George said as he adjusted his tie. “I thought we’d be at Harry’s wedding first.”

The rest of the Weasley boys echoed the same idea. They were getting ready for George and Angelina’s wedding. It wasn’t planned at all— the two of them getting together. They started to stick together more after Fred died. George felt guilty for developing feelings quickly for Angelina because both he and Fred had minor crushes on her throughout their time at school. Angelina felt guilty because she went to the Yule Ball with Fred instead of George, feeling like that somehow said that she had picked one over the other. But they couldn’t stop themselves from getting as close as they did. Mrs. Weasley had gotten on Bill for marrying Fleur so quickly but didn’t seem to feel the same way for George. She was actually happy— it was the first time in a long time that George seemed like the young boy she remembered.

“We want to wait,” Harry said as he put on his suit blazer.

“Really?” Bill asked. “Even with Teddy?”

“Well, yeah. It just feels like we haven’t been given a chance to live. We don’t know how to slow down so we’re trying to learn how. Life isn’t going anywhere, not anymore, you know. So we’re waiting. We just want that for a bit.”

Harry adjusted his tie and followed the others out. That was all people did now was ask when he was going to propose to you. War had made everyone’s lives speed up but you and Harry had been living in the fastest lane imaginable since seeing Voldemort in a graveyard and every year it had only gotten faster. So while they all thought it was a miracle to be alive and that life was short, Harry thought he outlived enough that he was owed some time. Of course, he was going to marry you. He was going to spend the rest of his life with you. But just being with each other was enough. The boys got quiet when you suddenly walked into the room as if they weren’t just talking about you. They chuckled at seeing Teddy in a baby version of Harry’s suit.  

“George, where’s Angelina’s jewelry box? She forgot the necklace she wanted,” you said.

“She could come i—”

“It’s bad luck to see a bride in her dress before the wedding!”

George groaned. “You believe in that too? That’s all Ang, Mum, and Ginny have been saying.”

“Because it’s true, isn’t that right, Teddy?” You bounced the baby on your hip. “See. Teddy knows it’s bad luck.”

“Well, good thing we’ll be married in an hour,” George said as he handed you the jewelry box you were looking for.

The guys watched Harry walk over and give you a kiss before taking Teddy from you after watching you struggle to keep him away from the jewelry box.

“Thank you, baby,” you said when the two of you pulled away.

Teddy babbled before looking up at Harry. “BB!”

You and Harry went wide-eyed. Teddy giggled before repeating it again. You pushed Harry’s shoulder.

“Unbelievable, you’re away all the time and he still says you first… Ted Ted, I’m disappointed in you.”

“BB!”

Harry just laughed. You left to give Angelina her necklace before the wedding started. It wasn’t hard to see the love between George and Angelina when she made it to the end of the aisle. Their vows were short yet sweet. The vows were also full of jokes. You all applauded when they kissed— Molly applauding through tears.

~~

You heard the store bell ring and immediately turned around considering there was a closed sign on the door. Your students were standing there with Kreacher at the front.

“Blimey, is it class time already?”

“Yes, Professor.”

“I am so sorry. I just got home from Teddy’s doctor appointment… you know what? Let’s have class down here today. Everyone sit at a table, we’ll debate and have tea. Does that sound good?”

Your first years nodded enthusiastically. They all picked out packets of tea and pulled out their notebooks. When Teddy was old enough to drop at daycare or maybe when you were more comfortable with leaving him for longer periods of time, you would go back to a classroom inside Hogwarts. Until then, all students were given special permission to leave campus and be taken to Hogsmeade by Kreacher. They used the Floo Network to get to the Hogsmeade Post Office quicker than walking and then marched to your store. Most students said they wouldn’t mind if your classroom stayed outside of the castle because they liked all of the plants.

“Okay,” you said as you set Teddy on the play mat near your chair. “If I remember, Mr. Luddigan, you wanted to know why Alchemy is so hard?”

The boy nodded. “If it’s just combining a bunch of our classes then shouldn’t more people be able to do it? Why do only nine alchemists exist?”

You took a sip of your tea. “Well, who wants to answer first?”

All hands shot up at once. You listened to them get into a mildly heated debate about what makes a good alchemist and why it’s such a hard practice. Every now and then they would turn to ask for your advice. It was a joy to watch them be so into your class. You were worried that it would be boring or not many students would take it. McGonagall assured you that wasn’t the case.

The students were animatedly talking when you felt a chill. You looked over and abruptly shot out of your chair to scoop up Teddy who was headed towards the fireplace. He had started crawling and occasionally walking more and more. Your dark senses were now reserved for making sure the baby didn’t get himself hurt which meant that they were activated quite often when it came to Teddy.

~~

“Where’s Potter?” Cedric asked as he came into the box.

“Auror business. What, are Teddy, Ginny, and I not good enough support?”

Cedric laughed and gave you a hug. The first game of the quidditch season had been moved back just like he said. Hogwarts started their winter break a couple days ago so you and Teddy went to the first game of the season. Teddy was bundled in as much clothes as you could put him in although his nose was still a little red.

“It was a good game,” you said.

“Ha, if I had caught the snitch. Still rusty even with the practice.”

“Well, you’ll get it next time. Are you going out with the team or we can go out? There’s a good muggle pizza shop I know.”

Cedric nodded. Ginny had to leave for her own practice. She was putting the dragonhide gear that you got her to good use after getting on the professional team for the Holyhead Harpies. She waved goodbye to you and Cedric.

The two of you split a large pizza and talked. Puddlemere United was trying to work their way back to the top of the leaderboards. It wasn’t going to happen this year. They knew that but they were aiming to be the top team by the time the Quidditch World Cup came back around. Cedric said that the practices were longer and more intense. You pulled out a lumpy blue blanket from your bag and he began laughing so loudly that other customers looked over.

“Finally finished it.”

“(Y/N), that looks awful,” he said between laughs.

“No one said I was good at knitting. I don’t know how Mrs. Weasley does it.”

“Can I have it? We’ll hang it up in our locker room.”

Despite knowing it was going to be laughed at, you gave the disaster of a blanket to Cedric anyway. You both agreed to try and meet in person at least once a month. And you promised that you would come to the next game with Harry— as well as Ron who was ecstatic at having a connection to one of the oldest Quidditch teams in the UK.  

2 Years after the Battle:

You and Molly had been helping Fleur through her pregnancy. Molly was there more considering it was her grandchild and also because you were still a teacher. The two of you had basically been the best tag team for Bill and Fleur. Molly knew all about being pregnant and anything that running a family entailed. You were the one who most recently took care of a baby and had tricks that Molly might have forgotten about.

Fleur finally had her baby and the entire family extended was at the Burrow since it was slightly bigger than Shell Cottage. Molly was helping Fleur get changed upstairs so you were handed baby Victoire. You were showing Bill the way you found it most comfortable to hold and rock a baby. Teddy pulled on the bottom of your skirt to get you to look down at him. He was shaking a jar of snacks.

“One minute, sweetie.” You went back to answering Bill’s questions. “Ted, give me a minute, please.”

Teddy’s whines were starting to become shouts as he pulled on your skirt even more. You couldn’t do much with Victorie in your arms and Bill still had a question that you were in the middle of answering. You sighed at Teddy shouting. It only started recently, the temper tantrums. You were becoming flustered at trying to answer Bill.  

“Edward Remus!” Harry called.

Teddy’s tantrum stopped almost immediately. The others watched in amazement when Teddy sat down calmly next to Harry and quietly stuck out his jar of snacks.

“Please?” He asked.

“Apologize first. (Y/N)’s been helping Fleur a lot, we have to share our time with her. Okay?”

“Sorry, TT,” Teddy said quietly.

“Apology accepted. Thank you for saying sorry, sweetie.”

Teddy held out the snack jar again. “Please, BB?”

Harry’s face softened and he opened the snack jar for the little boy. You finished answering Bill’s question and gave him his daughter. George sat down on the couch.

“BB and TT?” he asked.

That made Teddy perk up as he said TT multiple times while pointing at you. You and Harry nodded.

“We’re not trying to make Teddy choose between Remus and Tonks or us. He calls us whatever he wants. Sometimes, Mum and Dad. Sometimes, BB and TT. He chooses,” you said before retreating to the kitchen.

Harry followed you, not concerned about Teddy because so many people were around to watch him. Harry rubbed your shoulders and kissed your forehead. Teddy hadn’t been taking it the best that you were splitting your time between him, your students, and Fleur. Especially Fleur because that was when he got the least attention. It didn’t help that Harry wasn’t around as they found more and more of Voldemort’s followers. Harry tried to reassure you that you were doing great. Angelina moved to sit next to George, placing Teddy on her lap— he didn’t even care his seat was taken because he had snacks. He looked up at Angelina who didn’t have her hair in braids for once. Teddy’s hair went from looking like Harry’s to looking like yours and Angelina’s. He was still in the stage of mimicking people. She covered his ears.

“How long until their wedding?” she asked.

They all started giving out their own guesses. Teddy grabbed Angelina’s hands and tried to pull them down. She let go immediately.

“TT! Mummy, Daddy!” he called.

That earned looks from everyone. You had said it but no one was prepared for Teddy to actually call you. You came back into the living room, picking him up. Teddy stuck out his snack jar.

“All done, Daddy.”

“All done?” Harry repeated with a laugh as he took the snacks back from Teddy.  

~~

“The place looks nice,” you said as you stepped through the door.

Hermione and Ron had moved in together. They were over taking things slow, moving quickly into an engagement. That had earned another round of questions about you and Harry— none that were asked to your face. Teddy was with Molly so you and Harry could just relax with your friends. The DA and Draco were coming over for the housewarming party. Draco was slowly socializing into the group. After what happened in seventh year and the way he tried to minimize punishments for everyone, they all started trusting him a bit. Your cousin was still awkward and stuck to you the entire night. He broke out of his shell when Luna talked to him. You leaned a shoulder on Harry when he came back from the bathroom.

“Neville, Harry said you quit being Auror?”

He nodded. “Yeah, last week. Professor Sprout is thinking of retiring, told her that I’d split classes with her and then take ‘em all over when she finally leaves.”

“Professor Longbottom,” Ron said with a nod. “Suits you.”      

4 Years after the Battle:

“Harry James Potter.”

Teddy and Harry looked up from the cafe table. They were playing wizard’s chess. A modified version for Teddy after he became fascinated watching you and Harry play.  

“Uh oh, BB,” Teddy said.

Harry set the piece in his hand back onto the chess set. “Yes, love?”

“I just got a letter from Minister Shacklebot. Did you offer our house as the new office for the Order? Because the Ministry would like to know if they can still move in and if so, does next month work for us.”

Harry cringed, realizing he forgot to tell you. In reality, he forgot to ask. But then he talked to Ron and they both followed the motto of ask forgiveness and not permission. He got up from the table— Teddy took the chance to take one of his pieces. You stood with hands on your hips. Harry placed his hand on your waist and tried to kiss your frown.

“We agreed on only fixing one home, I thought it’d be a shame to sell Grimmauld.”

“I would like a head’s up next time.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Hmm. I’ll accept it in an hour. Come on, Ted, bath time.”

Harry scooped up the four year old. “I got him.”

You chuckled as you followed them up the stairs. “Apology accepted, Harry.”

Teddy went to bed with no problem while you and Harry stayed up and just laid down in bed together. You were both discussing what to do. Teddy was getting older and you both were thinking of moving. You had considered shutting down the store and finally going back to teach at Hogwarts in a classroom in the castle. Grimmauld Place was your home and you liked that it was in the muggle world but Potter Manor was bigger. It gave Teddy a place to run around, you would have enough space for a real garden. Plus Teddy was going to have friends soon. You were putting him in part-time day school just so he could make friends with kids his own age before Hogwarts.

You had decided a while ago that Potter Manor was the best idea for you all and were prepared to make the hard choice of selling Grimmauld and your store. Making it into a new headquarters permanently for the Order did seem to be a good compromise. The Order was less active nowadays, more of a political party with significant sway in the Ministry. They always met randomly wherever they could. You agreed and told Harry that just this once, his impulsiveness was a good idea.

6 Years after the Battle:

Puddlemere had made it all the way to the Quidditch World Cup. You would’ve gone to support Cedric anyway but the fact that the game was the biggest in the world made the entire family excited. You all sported the navy blue and gold of the team. Teddy was in Cedric’s signed sweater that he was clearly drowning in but he didn’t care as he sat on Harry’s shoulders. Draco showed up a bit late with his girlfriend— Astoria— but he bought everyone popcorn to make up for it. You all hollered and cheered every time Puddlemere scored. The audience could have sworn they heard the most noise coming from your box. Between the small family of you, Teddy, and Harry and then all the Weasleys who had quite a few new additions with George and Angelina having children, you weren’t surprised if that was true.

“YES!” Ron’s voice echoed as Cedric ended the game by catching the snitch and winning.

It was a bittersweet victory. Both bludgers hit him hard in the leg as he caught it. You all ended up eating dinner at his house because he was too hurt to really enjoy being out. Cedric was entertained by the kids doing a play by play of the game as if he wasn’t just in it.

~~

“You’re closing the store?” Cedric came strolling in with a slight limp.

You got him a tea and pumpkin pasty and sat down. “Yeah, Ted’s old enough to take to day school so I can go back to a normal classroom. We’re moving and I don’t have anyone to run this place so no choice left but to close.”

“I’ll do it,” he said before biting into the treat.

“You will? But you’re quid—”

“I just retired. Had to. The injury couldn’t be fixed, I am unemployed.”

“Merlin’s Beard, I’m sorry.”

Cedric shook his head. “I went out on the highest point of my career, there are worse ways to retire. But I’ll run it. It can’t be that hard, sell some plants, brew some tea.”

“How much did Puddlemere pay you? We can make that your salary.”

“I was a professional athlete, what they paid was way too much to ask— I know you have the money, but still. We’ll find something reasonable.”

You nodded. Harry came in with Teddy and you gave him the good news.

~~

Potter Manor had layers upon layers of dust when you arrived. When you let the Order take Grimmauld, you and Harry moved all the boxes to the Manor. Both of you were regretting the decision to not deal with the boxes at the moment. It took a month to clean the place and put up all your stuff. Harry laughed as you stuck up the portrait of Walburga in the foyer right next to Harry’s grandparents. You had finally managed to unstick the painting from Grimmauld. At first, you were only going to keep it because Kreacher begged but then you both realized that the old bat screaming at everyone was kind of something you were used to. She didn’t yell on the first day, simply admired the foyer that she was now placed in.

She did, however, yell when you hung up your mother and Sirius’ portrait right across from her. The other portraits of Lily and James, Remus and Tonks, and Harry’s grandparents covered their ears as Sirius and Walburga got into a yelling match. You, Teddy, and Harry were having a ball watching the mess go down. Eventually, Walburga learned that she was outnumbered and it was best to shut up or she would have the curtain put back over her. She also shut up when Andromeda’s picture taught her that there was another woman who could give her a run for her money in terms of yelling.

The party that you threw when you finally moved in was a giant affair. You and Harry went all out for the housewarming. Everyone was enjoying exploring the house and they all shared the same sentiments that it seemed a bit big for just the three of you. Harry blushed at that and you simply went with Teddy who wanted to show you something in the backyard.  

8 Years after the Battle:

Harry was looking at rings when he was caught by Ron walking past. A few years ago, his friend stopped being an Auror to help George run the joke shop. The two of them relied on each other a lot after Fred died and that reliance never went down as the years went on. Ron clapped Harry on the back, scaring his friend who hadn’t heard him come in.

“You’re finally going to do it?”

“I’m just looking. It feels like there’s a lot of pressure on us, I don’t think (Y/N) likes it either.”

“Well, you two have an eight year old and have been dating for about a decade now. Doesn’t help you’re the most famous couple.”

“Just because everyone else is all happy we survived a war and is having children— do you think she’ll like this one— having a kid sounds fun until you have one, you know.”

“‘Mione and I will know in a little bit, then, won’t we?”

Harry stopped looking at rings. “She’s pregnant?”

Ron nodded with a loving smile on his face. Harry gave congratulations and a clap on the back. Ron, completely forgetting that he told George he’d be back in a few minutes, helped his friend look at rings.  

~~

“He named his child Scorpius?”

You smacked Harry in the shoulder right before the door opened. At lightning speed, you both plastered smiles on your face as Draco’s girlfriend appeared. Teddy ran past the woman, yelling hello. He was officially done with you and Harry, more interested in his Uncle Draco. Astoria closed the door behind you and Harry. When you made it into the living room, Draco was supervising Teddy holding the baby. The young boy’s hair was the classic platinum blonde that he loved to wear whenever he was with your cousin.

“Mr. Malfoy,” you said in a joking tone. “I can’t believe you of all people now have a child.”

Draco laughed as he got up to give you a hug. He had taken over Malfoy Manor, insisting that Narcissa continue to live there, and was becoming one of the biggest contributors to certain charities like S.P.E.W. All in all, for the little bully that he used to be, your cousin turned into a very good man.

~~

Christmas was held at Potter Manor and with the whole family. It seemed easier. Presents weren’t required for anyone past your immediate household but you all just wanted to be together. Hermione and Ron were still a bit out of it when they showed up. Their newborn, Rose, was keeping them up. Harry laughed because he told Ron it wasn’t easy. Everyone thought because you two took Teddy so young that it wouldn’t be hard if they waited a bit. Really, Teddy only went so well because you and Harry were determined that he wouldn’t have the life that was given to either of you.

Teddy was flying around on the broomstick that Draco got him, only half-listening to you tell him not to go too far or too high.

“Harry,” you called. “Go get your son from outside before he runs into a tree.”

Harry jumped on his broom but realized he didn’t have to go too far. Teddy had only made it to the pond in the backyard. He called the boy over.

“You wanna help me propose to Mum?”

Teddy’s eyes lit up— he had accidentally found the ring last month. “Today?”

Harry nodded. The two whispered about a plan while you sat oblivious in the living room with everyone else. Christmas was one of the few times you brought out the Elder Wand because you’d be damned if you were going to clean up after everyone with no magic. The wrapping paper was gotten rid of and the dishes were washing themselves. You went to put it back in the little display cabinet in your office that held all the Hallows when you stopped as a patronus walked past you. You quickly put it up and followed the silver badger to the kitchen. Teddy was sitting at the counter.

“Hey, Ted Ted. Where’s Dad?”

Teddy shrugged. “I got you another present.”

“Aww, you didn’t have to. I loved what you and Harry already got me.”

Teddy smiled and jumped down from the counter, leaving his food abandoned. Everyone seemed oddly silent to you when you walked in. You paused behind Teddy when you noticed Harry on one knee in the middle of the living room. You missed most of his speech as you simply nodded and cried happy tears while walking over to him. Harry put the ring on your finger before standing up to kiss you. You both laughed in the middle of the kiss when Molly commented finally.

The house slowly got quiet as everyone retreated into the guest rooms to go to bed. In a few hours, you knew someone’s baby was going to start crying and complaints would happen but for now it was completely silent. Teddy was now sitting on top of the counter, petting Padfoot who was officially in the elderly stages of his little feline life. You, Harry, and Teddy were eating out of a container of ice cream. It was just the three of you, a nice little family.

“The Ministry’s going to want to be at our wedding,” you said. “It means more pictures, probably another article.”

“We can’t escape them forever, love.”

“I know, it’s just they’ve left everyone else alone. I wish they would learn to leave you alone Mr. Boy Who Lived… Teddy, when do you want the wedding? Summer or Winter?”

“Summer.”

You all looked at the kitchen window when an owl knocked on it. Harry went to go get it.

“It’s for you,” he said as he turned the letter over. “From Hogwarts.”

“Hmm? Maybe Neville? He said he and Hannah weren’t going anywhere for the break. You know she took over the Leaky Cauldron.”

Harry mentioned something about going to the pub at some point. You opened the letter and quickly read all the way down. The spoon dropped out of your mouth making both Teddy and Harry stop their conversation.

“What?” Harry asked.

You handed him the letter.

“McGonagall wants to talk about taking over for her at Hogwarts.”

“Brilliant,” Harry said.

“How?! I’m not nearly qualified enough, I still can’t do anything past Reparo without the Elder Wand. Parents are going to p—”

“Be amazed that the new headmaster is one of the most brilliant witches of our time?”

“Pull their children when it’s revealed the new headmaster is a squib, Harry. Let’s be honest.”

“Ted, why don’t you go to bed. You can take Padfoot with you.”

The boy jumped off the counter, holding onto the cat carefully as he did. Harry waited till he was sure Teddy was down the hall before walking around the counter to hold you. He swayed the two of you back and forth.

“Have the awards you’ve been given mean nothing?” Harry asked. “You’re a prized alchemist, defeated Voldemort, and created multiple new potions all while being a squib. McGonagall wants to retire and she’s choosing you for a reason. She doesn’t trust anyone else to do as good of a job.”

“Harry?”

“Yes?” He asked with a smile.

“Do you really think I should meet her for tea?”

“I think you should meet her for tea.”

That’s what you did when the winter break ended. You had finished teaching your class of fifth years and finally worked up the courage to go to McGonagall’s office. You had chosen to eat breakfast at home just so you could avoid her. It was easy considering you were a part of the faculty that didn’t live at Hogwarts. It just didn’t make sense with Harry not always being home. You weren’t going to leave Teddy with others for such a long period even if he was going to day school now. Connecting your house to the Hogwarts fireplace or sometimes apparating to Hogsmeade with Kreacher was just easier.

McGonagall jumped up when you knocked on her office door— she never took Dumbledore’s office even after you gave it to her. She directed you to a seat. You barely had your butt in the seat when she shoved a parchment towards you, telling you most of the faculty agreed with her.

~~

You smiled as Neville, the new Head of Gryffindor, ushered in the new school year’s first years. The group was larger than it had been in years. The wizarding world was still suffering after Voldemort. People were either in a rush to get married and have kids or their lives just kind of stopped completely. You knew that marriage or baby rush was coming in a year or two— Teddy would be a part of that group. But this group was bigger because you created a new rule at Hogwarts.

Anyone in the magic world was allowed in which meant squibs were allowed. You watched the sorting with joy every time a squib was called up. This group had the most Ravenclaws, followed by Slytherin and then Gryffindor and then Hufflepuff. You shrugged a bit. At this point, Hufflepuff was forever the smallest house. You stood up to give the beginning of the school year speech.

“Welcome students. I’m Professor Potter and it is my pleasure to welcome you all to Hogwarts. I probably should have said this before the starting but for those who think there’s been a mistake in your sorting, I assure you there hasn’t. You might not think you’re cunning enough to be in Slytherin, courageous enough to be a Gryffindor, clever enough to be a Ravenclaw, or hard-working enough to be a Hufflepuff. That’s not true. You’re in your house because you want these traits, you value them the most. And we hope that by being with friends that value the same thing, you will all work together to help each other reach these goals. But I encourage you to make friends across houses. I was Hufflepuff but my best friends were in Gryffindor, isn’t that right Professor Longbottom?”

“You couldn’t get her to get out of our common room.”

“Except for—”

“Thursday!” Neville said at the same time with you.

You turned back to the kids. “Thursdays, you could often find me in Slytherin’s common room. Every house is special and can be full of great witches and wizards. And for my lovely squibs, you belong here. You might be asking what do you do with a wand you can’t use? The answer is you work your hardest. Find what you’re good at here and be the best you can be. We know who you are and adjustments on practical magic will be according to the amount of magic you have. Don’t worry. In fact, I only mastered two or three spells my entire time here and one of them I need my husband’s help for.”

You pushed your glass off of the table.

“Reparo… that’s it! Took me almost a year to master. Hogwarts is here for all witches and wizards to learn. So that’s what we want you to do, learn as much as you can. Alright, I think I’ve talked long enough. Let the feast start!”

The food popped up all around and the children dug in. Some heads turned when the Great Hall doors opened. You set down the large witch’s hat that you wore for the first day ceremony and practically ran from the table. Whispers started all around at seeing Auror Potter walk in. You gave Teddy a hug before standing up to greet your husband.

Harry smiled. “Can I give you a kiss or is that now unbecoming of a Headmaster?”

You chuckled and gave him a tiny peck. Harry rubbed Teddy’s head.

“They called us in and I have to leave now.”

“I told Dad I can stay at home.”

“Haha, absolutely not, Teddy. Come on, let’s have dinner.”

Harry gave you another kiss goodbye and began to walk out of the Hall. He stopped when you grabbed his arm. You whispered in his ear and smiled when he went wide-eyed. Harry’s hand automatically went to your stomach.

“Are you serious?”

Now that Teddy was older and the two of you felt more secure and ready in your life, you and Harry hadn’t necessarily started trying for kids but stopped using protection. Just like marriage, you were taking it slow. It felt strange because so many people you knew had kids already— the effects of being a war generation. Somehow, you and Harry never felt the need to speed up. Maybe it was because death had been all around the two of you since birth that neither of you felt like the next day might be your last and you also didn’t feel super grateful to have been a survivor. Life was just life. It just happened to you. You still probably would have waited more years if Teddy wasn’t yours but you didn’t want a massive age gap between him and his siblings. Only two. You weren’t going for that many kids. Only two more siblings and that was good enough.

“As much as my middle name.”

Harry stopped looking at your stomach. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t make that joke… how do you expect me to go to work now?”

You just shrugged your shoulders and took Teddy’s hand. Harry just looked as you walked back to the faculty table. Teddy was already winning over faculty before deciding he wanted to sit with the students. You let him go, watching him walk straight to Ravenclaw and sit down. Harry just shook his head and walked out so he could go on his Auror mission.

~~

Cuddling on the couch wasn’t the easiest when pregnant but you and Harry made it work. Valentine’s Day was very much a stay-at-home affair this year. You didn’t even bother with a babysitter for Teddy so you could have a date night. It was family night instead until he went to bed. You had been discussing names the closer you got to the due date.  

“I like Minerva,” you said as you played with Harry’s hands.

“After McGonagall?”

“Not really, I just think it sounds pretty. But that woman was tough as nails and she always believed in me.”

“Agreed. Minerva is nice, we still need a middle name.”

“Harry.”

“Yes?”

“No, the middle name.”

He sat up and looked at you. “Minerva Harry Potter? You want to give her the middle name Harry?”

“Tradition. (Y/N) Sirius Black. Harry James Potter. First born takes the father’s name.”

“Sirius didn’t just have twisted humor, you do too. It sounds so odd on a girl. Alright. If Minny hates it, I’m putting the blame fully on you.”

You smiled as Harry laid back down, not even realizing he already gave the baby a nickname. While cuddling on the couch was nice, Harry was not prepared for the sudden crying. You tried to stop and explain but just kept crying. Padfoot walked over at almost a snail’s pace. The cat was almost all gray instead of black and he couldn’t jump up onto the couch anymore.

“I’m not sad… just his time…sorry, pregnancy hormones. I’m not actually sad, I promi— stupid dark senses.”

Harry figured it out through the blubbering. Padfoot was family and you started using your dark senses to check up on him as he started getting older. Harry gently got up and set you back down on the couch. Padfoot slowly moved towards his cooing. Your cat gave a little meow and Harry lifted him up to get one last pet and kiss from you.

“I’ll hold him the entire time, love.”

You nodded and waited. The tears stopped after you started laughing at yourself for not being able to say a single sentence without crying. Harry came back a bit later. He sighed.

“Teddy’ll ask in the morning, he loved that cat.”

“We tell him the truth.”

“He’ll ask for another pet.”

“Aren’t we getting him his own owl when it’s time for school?”

“Mmm hmm. Do you want another cat, love?”

“I think so, they’ve always made me feel better.”

Harry nodded and agreed that you would get a kitten soon. Eventually you began nodding off and you both decided to go to bed because you couldn’t possibly get comfortable on the couch, no matter how large it was.        

10 Years after the Battle:

The corner of your eyes crinkled at seeing your husband. You would run to him but heavily pregnant and running didn’t exactly match up. Harry met you instead. Back to back kids was one of the few things that you and Harry did in fact plan for and happened how you wanted. You both figured it was better that way. The two siblings were out of the way, less trouble bouncing back into parenting a baby. Harry looked around your office to see Minerva— who he liked to call Minny— in her crib.

“Where’s Ted?” he asked.

“Probably nagging the Transfiguration professor. He’s gotten into morphing his face to be different animal snouts.”

“And there’s the blue hair,” Harry chuckled as Teddy came running in and soon went running right back out after getting the broomstick he was looking for.

“Or he’s going to go annoy whichever team has quidditch practice.”    

You nodded and went to sit back down. “You weren’t supposed to be back until next week.”

“We caught the poacher, came back early. Told Robards that he could consider the last mission my two weeks’ notice.”

Your eyes widened for a moment. You directed Harry to the chair across from your desk. Kreacher came in with a tea tray.

“Two weeks? You quit being an Auror?”

Harry stirred the sugar into your tea and handed it to you. “I have a wife and two kids, third on the way. Eleven years of being an Auror and some close calls, it just makes sense to me… oh no, it’s that face.”

“Professor Lettie is looking to retire, she has been for the past two years and I just couldn’t find a decent replacement. Hogwarts needs a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.”

Harry sat back in the chair. “I think I’d love to teach.”

11 Years after the Battle:

Teddy practically ran into the store. He had too much energy, always running. Ollivander greeted you and Harry as if it was yesterday when he sold your wands. His son, who was learning to take over the store running side of wand making, stood at the counter next to him. Ollivander peered over the counter to look at the boy with brown hair except for the tuft of blue at the front.

“And who might this be?”

“Teddy Lupin-Potter,” he said with pride.

You and Harry looked at each other. The name was never forced on Teddy. He always knew where he came from. He knew he was a son to you but he grew up on stories of his birth parents. You and Harry had let him look into the Pensieve enough times that he knew his parents’ faces as if he grew up with them. But he stood there and attached the Potter name on his own. Ollivander looked at the two of you and then the other two kids with you. He smiled.

“First-born’s always the most stressful.”

“How many tries do you think it’ll take you, Ted?” Harry asked.

“How long did it take you and Mum?”

Harry thought. “Three? Am I right, Ollivander?”

“Mum?” Teddy looked at you.

“Four.”

Teddy turned back and looked at the row of wands that were laid out in front of him. Harry was holding Minerva while you held Archie. Archie’s name was fought over for a while. Not the first name. Both of you really liked Archie when Teddy said it one day. The middle name created issues. You both didn’t mind the idea of giving the middle name as a tribute name… until your husband suggested Albus. That was the first time that you and Harry fought in a while. As far as you were concerned, Snape was right. The man had been raising Harry like a pig for slaughter and until you came around, he was alright with Harry dying for real. Harry did not seem to share the same sentiments.

It took him time to understand what you meant and even then he thought it wasn’t completely true. But he gave up the name Albus. In the end, he thought that since you and Teddy had his last name and Minny had both names, you should be present somewhere. Like Draco, you were okay with the Black family name dying. Taking Potter never meant much to you. You were surprised when Harry shook his head at Black and suggested your mother’s maiden name Hornby. His kids were part banshee— Minerva’s tantrums were already a horrible testament to that— so he figured why not include the banshee part of his family.

“This one’s perfect,” Teddy said excitedly as he showed off his new wand.

You paid Ollivander and left to head back home. It was one of the few nights left with Teddy. Even though both you and Harry worked at Hogwarts, you wanted the boy to have the same experience that you guys did of being away from parents. It meant a lot of back and forth with two babies but it was worth it for Teddy. Besides, the two of you couldn’t be trusted to hold him to curfew if one of you busted him— you and Harry might have left both the Invisibility Cloak and the Marauder’s Map in a very accessible spot for him to find. He took it without hesitation and when you went to repack his trunk, you left it.

Teddy took the train because you thought that was an important experience too. He waved at you, Harry, and his siblings when he entered the Hall with all the other first years. You gave him a little wave back. It wasn’t hard to spot him with his blue hair which seemed to have already earned him some friends. Minerva called out his name, the best that she could for a baby anyway— Archie was asleep in Harry’s arms. The Sorting Hat gave its song that only seemed to get worse over the years to you. The children loved it though. One by one, Neville called each person’s name for them to be sorted.

“Edward Lupin-Potter.”

Teddy cringed at hearing his full first name but came up nevertheless.  

“Better be Hufflepuff!”

The table erupted in cheers at being the house that gets to claim the first Potter kid. Teddy jumped down from the stool and walked over excitedly to Hufflepuff. Harry frowned as he slipped you a pouch of galleons underneath the table. You smiled at him as he rolled his eyes.

“I told you it wasn’t going to be Slytherin or Gryffindor.”

“Well, I’ll get it right next time… are you sure you didn’t rig the hat?”

You huffed out a laugh.

“Professor Potter, are you accusing me of cheating?”

“You’re a Marauder’s kid, aren’t you? I’m absolutely accusing you of cheating, I would’ve rigged the hat.”

You hit his shoulder. “I’ll remember this when it’s Minerva’s turn.”

He laughed before giving Teddy a thumbs up when he caught his eye. The last of the kids was getting sorted. You looked around at the rebuilt Hogwarts with the smiling students. This was what you all fought for even if you didn’t know it at the time.

“Harry?”

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

He grabbed your hand and held it up to his lips for a kiss.

[finelinevogue]

hey, if you have the time can you write a blurb where harry gets home from the studio and he's stressed, so the reader ask him to take a bath with her? and it's really fluffy, with rose petals and wine glasses? I know this is all over the place, I'm sorry shakshskwh

we all need a bit of domestic harry fluff in our lives so here we are <33 hope you like it;

You knew something was wrong without having to ask him.

Harry had rushed out of the apartment this morning to go to the studio, having had an important call from Tyler about something, leaving you to clean up around the house all day. However, there had been no good morning text from Harry, or even one from a lunch break, and he hadn’t picked up your call when you did. Harry never ignores you, unless he is in a really bad mood. Something to do with not wanting to be a burden and pass on his troubles to you. So you, being the best girlfriend in the world, had decided to do something kind for him when he gets home.

About an hour ago you’d texted Harry just to check up on him and also so you could time your plan of making him feel better.

To Harry: I love you. Hope you’re okay. Let me know when you’ll be home❤️

From Harry: Sorry about today love. I’ll be home at around 7pm. I love you xx

You’d bought the raw ingredients from Asda and made blueberry muffins - Harry’s favourite - along with buying some avocados in case he preferred to have that on toast when he gets in. You’d bought a bottle of red wine, the cheapest you could find obviously, and poured two glasses waiting. Finally, you’d ran a hot water bath with lavender soap and added a few rose petals, because you knew they were good for calming and relaxing. The bathroom smelt soft and cosy, like a warm blanket on a winters evening.

It was 7:08pm when he walked through the door, you hearing the door shut with a heavy sigh of relief from your boyfriend. He slipped off his blue checkered vans and walked through into the kitchen, his keys making a clattering sound as he dropped them in the key-bowl.

“Y/N, love?” He called out to you, but you didn’t respond. He furrowed his eyebrows at the silence, but even more so at the arrangement that was left on the kitchen counter-side for him.

He made his way over, his socks making him slide slightly on the shiny marble floor. He took in the selection of things on the side; the blueberry muffins, the avocado, the glass of red wine and its’ bottle and even a little cut out photo of you and him that he knew you’d stole from a photo frame - somewhere around the apartment. He smiled as he picked up the photo and remembered the memory well; you latched onto his back as Harry waded through a muddy puddle back in Holmes Chapel, because he didn’t want you to get wet and he’d been the only sensible one in wearing welly boots. You were both laughing and it made Harry’s heart swell at how much your happiness could bring him his too.

He placed the photo down and turned to the envelope that sat next to the plate of muffins. It was a white envelope signed ‘H x’ on the front and underlined. He turned it over and undid the seal, bringing out a card that had written on the front ‘You’ve got this!’ which Harry could’ve sworn he saw in Asda the other day underneath the exam congratulations cards. He smiled at your kindness, turning it over briefly but then sighing when he noticed you’d written a message too.

“God damn you Y/N.” He muttered under his breathe, tears forming in eyes from the overwhelming amount of love he had for you - just as you had for him.

Harry, it read, I know today had been tough but look, you got through it and i’m proud of you and for that you deserve a blueberry muffin! If you’d rather share a glass of wine with me then come join me upstairs and we’ll finish the bottle together. I love you always. Yours, Y/N. It was signed with a kiss of your lips in pink lipstick. Harry brought the paper to his lips and kissed over the mark where you’d kissed, never feeling so loved than right now.

You were an absolute treasure.

Harry picked up his glass of wine and the bottle, before heading off upstairs. Originally he’d thought that you’d been in bed, waiting for him with a tub of raspberry ripple ice-cream and the latest episode of Love Island, but as he ascended the stairs he could smell the lavender bubbles and the even sweeter scents of your rose petals you loved so much.

He walked into the bedroom first, just to make sure that you weren’t actually in there, before making his way to the bathroom. As he opened the door, the heat hit him all at once making him feel so cosy and blanketed.

Then he saw you.

You were shoulder deep in the bath, which was tucked into the corner of the room in a triangle sort of shape, looking as beautiful as ever. Your hair was up and out of the water, it not being its’ wash day today, and you’d accidentally given yourself a bubble beard. You looked innocently perfect, even with a glass of wine in your hand. You smiled when you saw Harry, moving from the far side of the bath to the side closest to Harry. You rested your arm on the side of the bath, propping your head up to have a steadier vision of your boyfriend.

“Hello.” You spoke softly as Harry walked over to the bath, placing both his glass and bottle on the side of it carefully. He then came in front of you and crouched down with a crack of his old-man knees.

“Hi beautiful.” He stroked your cheek with his fingers, watching as you hummed in sight of having him so close and so loved up.

“You okay?” You asked, looking into his eyes for any sign that he was about to lie. You wanted him to be honest with you and honest he was.

“I can’t lie and say everything was perfect today, no.” He chuckled, you pouting when you heard his answer.

“I’m sorry. Want to take a bath with me?” You asked and this is exactly what Harry loved about you. You didn’t force him to talk about whatever had happened when you could clearly see he was still working through it himself, instead you simply comforted him and tried to help him remind him that you were here for him whenever he was ready to open up.

“Love to. Let me just go undress.” He stood up, but you reached out to grab him on his blue jeans before he could get very far.

“Don’t go. Undress here, please?” It was the little please that made Harry cave, not wanting to make you upset. He’d do anything to make sure you were happy.

He nodded and pulled off his socks first, making you laugh as he wiggled his oddly sized toes. Next was his grey TPWK jumper that he pulled off over his head along with his t-shirt.

“Damn.” You wolf whistled as his torso became exposed, making Harry shake his head and laugh at you from your silliness. “This strip tease is ten out of ten, Styles.”

“Oh shut up you.” He laughed as he pulled his jeans off and then finally his boxers. He didn’t even hesitate on that last item of clothing, both of you being absolutely comfortable with exposing yourself in front of each other. There was nothing sexual about being naked with each other, however, this time. You were just in love with each other. Simple as that.

He stepped into the bath, you moving back over to the far side so he could climb in. Once he sunk down and submerged his body he let out the biggest and happiest sigh, making you giggle. He took his glass of wine and took a large sip from it, leaning his back in relief afterwards.

“Nice?” You asked, knowing the answer already because it was sat proud on his face.

His eyes met yours and you pursed your lips under his gaze. You could see the cogs turning in his head and you only wished that you could see inside his head, just for a moment, to understand how he felt.

“C’mere.” He spoke softly, turning to put his glass back on the side as you shifted over towards him. Once you met him, he took your glass.

“Hey!” You whined in protest.

“Can have it back in a minute. Just want you for a bit, okay?” He explained, devoting his entire attention to you now. You sat on his lap and spiralled your arms around his neck, Harry’s hands finding their home on your waist.

Your lips both did the talking then.

He cupped your face gently and pulled you into him until your felt his plush pink lips kiss yours. You divulged in him and his love, feeling his warmth everywhere and your mouth. He was warming your heart the same way the bath warmed your bodies. There was nothing rushed or sensual about the kiss, it was simple and pretty. His lips moulded to yours perfectly and his tongue made sure to slide it’s way inside your mouth for a taste. You tasted divine - like the richest, most expensive, of wines. He pulled back first, not before you could push an extra peck to his lips for good measure.

“I’m so lucky to have you, Y/N.” Harry smiled, keeping ahold of your face as he spoke to you.

“And I you.”

Harry shook his head as the misunderstanding of his words. “No. You seriously have turned my life into something worth living and I couldn’t be happier to be with you. Y’so special to me, Y/N, and I love you.”

“I love you too, Harry.” You leant to kiss him again. “And i’m here for you for anything.”

“I know. That’s why i’m lucky to have you.”