#best gifts to have delivered to your mum this Mother’s Day

[hyperfixationstation128]

Through Blaze of Fire, I'll Find My Way. A Baldur's Gate 3 Fanfiction.

Hello! This is my first fanfiction that I've written in over 11 years and I'm very excited to share it with you all! A quick note before you read, this is the first of many chapters to come about my Tav, Arcane. This first chapter depicts the very beginning of her story, so it'll be some time before you see an in-game character, but I hope you all stick around and join me as we explore! Small CW for non-canon character death.

This fanfiction does have some Irish Gaelic words and phrases, and all pronunciations and translations will be posted at the end of the story. I've tried my best to translate all phrases as accurately as I could!

Big shoutout to @galeorderbride for giving me the courage and motivation to pick up writing again. I had so much fun writing and hearing what you had to say!

The day was cold and overcast. It always seemed to rain in Daggerford, soaking the grey stone beaches and casting a saddening hue over the town, like the ever-breaking tide threatened to swallow you whole, keeping you tied to this land forever. But it wasn’t so, not for Arcane. To her, this town was home; this town that kept her and her younger siblings safe; this town where she, her mother, and grandfather practiced magic ‘til the sun sunk behind the heavy, dark sea.

Just outside the town walls, not far from the mighty moat that encompassed it, sat their quaint little home on the water. Her father Lorcan, a fisherman, was rarely home as he often set sail on his tiny sailboat for his daily catch to sell at the market. Her mother, ever-beautiful Suil, stayed home and watched after the children with the help of Arcane’s beloved grandfather Ruairí. It was Arcane’s birthday, she was turning 9 years old!

‘A very important age for a budding young sorceress’, her grandfather had explained. His words rang in her ears, filling her with excitement for the festivities to come. Mother had warned her, though, not to get too excited or expect too many gifts, but with her grandfather being all too willing to rile up her excitement, Arcane elected to ignore her mother’s words.

“Can I have my gift now, grandda?” Arcane chirped, her seafoam eyes blinking up at him. She held his hand as they walked along the stony beach, the spray from both rain and sea wetting their faces. Grandfather let out a soft chuckle that rumbled like thunder.

“You’re an impatient little one, aren’t ya?” He lifted her hand and bent down to plant a loving kiss over her knuckles, patting it lightly. “Not yet, dove. When yer father returns from his catch, then you will have your gift.”

Arcane huffed and rolled her eyes, cheeks puffing out as she pouted.

They continued their walk, they seemed to always take these walks, just her and grandfather. He would talk to her about magic, show her spells, and give lessons in the form of games. From the moment Arcane’s abilities formed, her grandfather had taken a special interest in her, a rumor setting in amongst the townspeople that he had either blessed or cursed her from the moment she was born. The way he described it, her father was nowhere to be found when her mother went into labor, so he was the one who delivered her. According to the stories about her birth, grandfather lifted the crying babe above his head and proclaimed her “Arcane, Daughter of the Weave”. Her name never really meant much to her, not in the way it mattered to her mum and grandfather, but either way, she loved hearing the story.

It had seemed like hours had passed since they set off of their trek, the sunshower slowly letting up as the sun sank behind the dark sea. On their way back, the sight of white, patched-over sails caught Arcane’s eye and she released her grandfather’s hand to bound down the shore. Her father had returned!

“Papa! Papa!” She cried, arms outstretched as he stepped onto the dock and tied his sailboat to port. Upon reaching him, she threw her arms around his leg, holding him tightly. Her father grunted and dismissed her with a ruffle of her hair before turning to unload his catch. Arcane took a step to help her father but was stopped by her grandfather’s firm hand on her shoulder.

“Good catch today, Lorcan? Or has Umberlee found you unworthy of one?” Grandfather chuckled, and Father grumbled, muttering curses under his breath. It was always this way between them, but Arcane didn’t mind it, she was just happy to have her father there to celebrate. Arcane whined and tugged at her grandfather’s pant leg, practically vibrating with anticipation.  looked down at her and smiled his warm smile, he knelt, groaning with effort as he lifted her in his arms.

“Arcane and I are heading back to the house to celebrate her birthday. If you’ve a mind for your wee one’s heart, you’ll join us.” Father didn’t respond, and as they walked back home, Arcane stared after him over her grandfather’s shoulder.

Back at home, it was practically chaos, with her brother Caelan chasing after her sisters Naoisa and Maira with a wooden sword. Arcane practically leaped from her grandfather’s arms and rushed in to defend her poor sisters. “Caelan Villarelah, you are an impossibly naughty boy!” Arcane parroted the words of her mother, wagging her finger at him with her hand on her hip.

Caelan rolled his eyes at Arcane and dropped the sword on the floor. “Just ‘cause you're older, doesn’t mean you make the rules, Caney!” He stuck out his tongue, before running to their grandfather. “Grandda, tell Caney she’s not the boss!” He begged, pointing his finger accusingly at Arcane.

Grandfather looked at her, shrugging slightly. “Well, you heard the boy, dove. You don’t make the rules.” he chuckled, offering her a knowing wink. Arcane stifled a giggle before bounding into the kitchen, where her mother, heavy with her newest sibling, swayed in front of her large cookbook, her hands dancing in the air, her magic stirring whatever delicious meal she was cooking for supper.

“Mammy! It’s my birthday, Mammy, did ya hear? I’m 9 years old and Grandda says he has a special gift for me!” Mother turned to look at her daughter, her brow cocked in a confused expression.

“Yer birthday? No, no, we celebrated that last year, remember?” The corners of her lips quivered in an attempt to mask her smile.

“Mammy! We talked about this! Birthdays happen every year!” Arcane giggled, her hands reaching up to touch her mother’s stomach. “Don’t you worry, Niamh, when you’re born I’ll remind Mammy of all of your birthdays!” Arcane planted a kiss on her mother’s stomach, pressing her cheek to the swollen bump, and as if to say they agreed, Niamh kicked.

Her mother brushed her fingers through Arcane’s wind-tousled hair, gently detangling the knots that had worked their way in there. “Of course you will, A stór(meaning: “my treasure”), because you’re the best big sister any child could dream of having,” She gave Arcane a gentle nudge, “Now go on! Mammy’s just about finished with your supper.”

And so the night continued, Arcane corralling her brother and sisters while Mother finished cooking. The children had gone through the phases of chasing one another, playing “Silence Greatshout”, to finally settling down at the table and wolfing down the long-awaited stew. Notably, Father was absent from the meal and the celebration, he wasn’t even there when Arcane blew out her candle on her sweet cake. But the feeling of missing him was easily overshadowed by uproarious applause from her family, her grandfather giving her a loving shake. The night continued, Arcane sharing the small sweet cake with her siblings, despite her mother saying she could have it all to herself. In mere seconds, the cake was gone, all evidence of its existence now reduced to crumbs and frosting smeared on the children’s faces.

“Well, now! That was a lovely celebration!” Grandfather groaned as he stood and started up the stairs, “But it is getting late. We should all start heading to bed.”

“Grandda!!” The children yelled in unison.

“You a’got Caney’s birfday present!” Maira stood on her chair and stomped her foot, her chubby face red.

Grandfather turned, dramatically clutching his chest with his hand to his head. “Ahh, my wee darlin’, ya caught me! How could I forget?” He scooped Maira into his arms and waved for the children to follow him into their living room and sit in front of him. “You, sweet Maira, ya keep me an honest man.” Grandfather made a show of waving his hands in the air, his deep voice seeming to echo off of the walls as he cited an incantation.

Silence. The children listened close, pointed ears pricked for the slightest change in sound.

“Hmm, I don’t think it worked. Perhaps if the birthday girl were to help me.” Grandfather gave a knowing look to Arcane, who excitedly hopped up and stood in front of him. “Now, dove, hold yer hands out in front of you. Remember to keep yer mind clear, yer heart open, and speak clearly.”

Arcane nodded, her brow furrowing to a concentrated frown and her eyes closing tightly. Her hands, though a little unpracticed, waved gracefully in the air, a blue glow emanating from her fingertips as she repeated the encantation clearly. Her heart swelled, her nerves stood on edge, and with a soft fizzz and woosh, her arms suddenly felt heavy and.... Was that.... Fur?

Arcane peeked an eye open. There, in her arms, lay a small kitten, his gorgeous white fur and silver stripes bristled as his fiery blue eyes darted back and forth. “Wha.... where am I? Mum?” the kitten mewed, clearly frightened by his sudden appearance within the family home.

“A kitten? And he talks! Oh, Grandda, he’s perfect!” Arcane tucked the kitten close and leaped into her Grandther’s arms, hugging him tightly.

“Not just any kitten, dove. This here creature is a careful cross between an Elven Cat and a Cath Shee.” He gently stroked the kitten’s head which settled under his touch. “There’s a breeder in Evermeet who breeds these kittens specifically for their magical abilities. He will be yer loyal companion.”

Arcane gazed warmly at the kitten, gently stroking his fur and scratching his chin. He seemed to settle somewhat, his whole body vibrating as he began to purr. Enchanted by the adorable ball of fluff, Maira and Naoisa huddled closer to get a better look, tentatively brushing their fingers against his soft fur.

“He’s so cute! What will you call him, Caney?” Naoisa piped up.

Arcane thought for a spell, biting her knuckle as she thought. “Ah, I know! Pangur Bán! After the anomnimous monk who wrote poems about his cat!” Arcane beamed up at her grandfather and mother, who smiled proudly back at her.

“He’s all yours, A stór. You be sure to take good care of him, yes?” Mother raised her eyebrows expectantly, her smile strained as if she didn’t entirely care for the idea of having a magical, teleporting cat in her home.

“I will, Mammy! I will!” Arcane placed a gentle kiss on Pangur’s head before making her way to her bedroom. She and her new friend had a lot to talk about.

Two years later

It had been two years since Arcane’s wonderful 9th birthday; she was 11 now, practically a woman, her mother would say. Mother had given birth to Naimh, her new baby brother during the Spring that followed Arcane’s birthday, Father had begun to leave port less and less over the years, it seemed, and Grandfather was as wonderful and doting as ever. Although, with age, came the dark cloud of true sight. It became rather clear that Father and Grandfather didn’t get along, constantly bickering with one another over things like rent, supporting the children, and caring for Mother, who’d recently fallen ill. With things as they were, it fell to Arcane to care for her siblings, having to forsake her daily lessons with Grandfather.

Despite how busy her days had become, there were moments - however brief - when Arcane would have a little time for herself. Late at night, after the children were all tucked in their beds, Arcane would rummage around in Grandfather’s room and steal away with his tomes, hiding away by the rocky cliff faces near her town. That is where she found herself this night, with Pangur, now grown, curled in her lap. The bright white glow of her dancing lights illuminated the pair as Arcane read and practiced her new incantations.

‘Come on, Arcane, if you can summon a magical cat, you can easily project a magic missile!’ Arcane chastised herself in her mind.

“I heard that,” Pangur mumbled, his head still resting on her lap. Damn that cat for hearing her thoughts! He sat up and stretched, tail quivering as he did so. “Yer never going to get better at your spells if you keep putting yerself down like that!”

Arcane sighed, her shoulders slumping forward. “I know, I’m just not used to these kinds of spells! These would be so much easier if Grandda were here to help me.” Her teeth clenched and her frown crinkled her nose, “But with Papa not bringing in any fish to sell, he’s had to start working again to help pay for Mammy’s medicine.” She lazily petted Pangur, making sure to scratch between his shoulders just how he liked.

Pangur leaned into her touch, a deep purr rumbling in his chest. “Don’t you worry yer wee head. Pretty soon, all of our troubles will be a thing of the past and everything will go back to normal.”

Arcane heaved a hefty sigh, standing to her feet. She was tired of having to wait for things to return to normal! She wanted her Grandfather back! She wanted her Mother back! She wanted to spend all her free time practicing her magic, not looking after her siblings. As much as it pained her to think it, the bitter taste of resentment for her father burned in the back of her mind like bile. Why did he have to be so selfish? Why was he always so selfish? Favoring the drink over his wife and children? Why wasn’t he ever involved in anything they did?

Her eyes trailed down to the book in her hands, her fingers dancing over the ornate binding, tracing the inlaid gold leaf that highlighted the title on the cover. Another heavy sigh fell from her lips. No matter how much she didn’t want this, no matter how much she wished to be elsewhere, this was her life, like it or not. She had to keep going. For her Grandfather, for her siblings.... For her Mother.

The night had become pitch black, darkened by the heavy grey cloud that rumbled overhead; Definitely time to be heading back. Arcane waved for Pangur to follow as she carefully climbed her way down the rocky cliff back toward home. She had spent far too long out there already, and if she wanted to have any energy to watch the children tomorrow, she had to get some rest. The walk back home was quiet, save for the gentle rolls of thunder and the lapping of the waves as they crashed upon the rocks. It was a sound Arcane had forsaken as a younger child. After all, how could one miss something that became a part of her daily routine?

After finally making it home, Arcane slowly made her way inside, careful not to trigger the squeaky hinge that groaned when disturbed. Inside, her father sat in his rickety chair sound asleep, a tattered book about pirates hung loosely from his fingers while he held a bottle of whisky tightly to his chest. Arcane rolled her eyes and flicked her hand, a nearby blanket folding itself over her father at her command. Her dreary legs carried her up the whining steps until he made it to her shared bedroom with the other girls. Naoisa and Maira were long since asleep, arms and legs splayed freely across the shared mattress. Arcane was careful not to wake them as she took off her boots and lifted the mattress to stash away her Grandfather’s tome.

It took some detangling of the girls’ limbs to make enough room for her to lie down, but after she did, it didn’t take long for sleep to find her.

The next morning arrived like a banging drum, startling Arcane from her sweet dreams. The girls were awake and jostling her, begging for breakfast. She barely had time to rub the sleep from her eyes before the girls were pulling her out of bed and onto her feet, their cries for food making Arcane’s head pound.

“Alright, alright, ye diabhal beag!” Arcane shooed her sisters out the door, promising them breakfast after she saw to their mother’s morning treatment. As the girls bounded down the steps, Arcane rounded the corner, grabbing the medicine on the table in the hall. With a gentle knock, Arcane entered the bedroom. It was eerily quiet.

“Mammy? Good morning, Mammy. It’s time for your medicine.” No response. She must’ve been especially drained today. Arcane sat on the edge of the bed, pouring the poultice into a little serving spoon. “Mammy? You gotta wake up. It’s time for your medicine.” Once more, silence. This didn’t seem quite right. Mother was usually quiet, save for the gentle rasp of her breathing.

Arcane placed a hand on her mother’s shoulder, giving her a little shake. “Mammy~ wake up!” She cooed. She looked down at her hand. Mother was cold. Why was Mother cold? And why wasn’t she breathing? Arcane shook her mother harder, dropping the spoon with a clatter.

“Mammy? Mammy, wake up! Mammy, please, you’re scaring me! Mammy!” Her desperate cries fell on deaf ears. Mother wasn’t waking up, no matter how much Arcane shook her. Fear gripped her heart like an icy spear, her throat tightened and her eyes burned. No, it couldn’t happen like this! It wasn’t supposed to happen like this!

“Grandda!! Papa!! Help!” Arcane cried, tears now streaming her face as she continued to shake her Mother. “Help me, please! Mammy, wake up!” Footsteps bounded down the hall and the bedroom door swung open. Grandfather! He could help! He could do anything! He could wake Mother up!

“What is it, dove? What’s wrong?”

Arcane sobbed. “It’s Mammy! She won’t wake up! Grandda, please help!”

Her grandfather gently pushed her aside, taking a seat next to his daughter and stroking her hair. “A leanbh? Ye’ve gotta wake up now. Arcane’s here, you’re scaring her. Suil? Suil, sweetheart?” Grandfather’s words wavered and caught in his throat. A quiet moment passed, Grandfather curled around Mother, his hands stroking her hair as he muttered to himself, perhaps a spell to wake her! Yes, that’s it! Grandfather would cast a spell, Mother would wake and be better than ever! Right?

Arcane waited, breathless, waiting for something - anything - to happen. Without another word, Grandfather stood and walked her out into the hall, motioning for her to head downstairs with her siblings. Arcane looked up at him, confused, her eyes bloodshot from tears. Grandfather’s face was grim, his face stained by his own tears.

“Go, now, dove. Go take care of your brothers and sisters. And send your father upstairs.” His voice was somber, his words barely above a whisper.

Arcane nodded, trudging down the stairs as her eyes stared blankly ahead. In the living room, her father sat in his chair, eyes fixated on his book as she approached.

“Papa? Grandda needs to see you upstairs.” She mumbled, shock setting in. “It’s about Mammy.... I- I think she-” Arcane’s words were cut off as her father barreled past her, footsteps quickly retreating upstairs. She, however, remained frozen, eyes staring dead-eyed in front of her. All sound fell away, all feeling lost, all time stopped. A moment felt like an eternity, the roaring silence in her mind nearly driving the young girl to madness. And then-

“No! No! It can’t be! You bastard, what did you do?! What did you do to my sweet Suil?!” Father’s voice rang throughout the house. The children stopped their ruckus. Only the sound of Father’s wailing and the crashing of his tirade filled the children’s ears.

Niamh and Maira began to screech, startled by their father’s rage. Arcane ran to their side and held them both in her arms. Father stormed down the stairs, bursting through the door into the stormy morning that awaited them. And he cried. Gods, did he cry. He wailed and shouted like a child throwing a tantrum, breaking and throwing anything unlucky enough to get in his hands.

It wasn’t long until Grandfather made his way downstairs, all light cast out of his once cheerful eyes. The children turned to face him, fear, confusion, and worry filled their eyes as they stared. Grandfather sucked in a shaky breath, before saying the words every child wishes to never hear.

“Your mother is dead.”

The day was cold and overcast. It always seemed to rain in Daggerford, soaking the grey stone beaches and casting a saddening hue over the town, like the ever-breaking tide threatened to swallow you whole, keeping you tied to this land forever. And it was just so, ever true for Arcane. This town, her home, once a place filled with laughter and joy, was now empty and cold. The tide crashed against the stony shore, rain soaking through Arcane’s cloak, setting a dark chill in her bones. It was the darkest day to end all dark days.

Her Mother was dead.

Her Mother, Suil, a once beautiful, shining light in the world, was now reduced to a cold, stiff corpse that lay wrapped in cloth and heavy stone. Her mother, Suil, a beautiful elven woman, who taught her words of her and her father’s people, who always made the best meals, who saw the good in every situation, now lay dead in the little rowboat on the shore.

It didn’t take long for word of her passing to spread through the town. Word travelled fast in Daggerford. Those whose lives were touched, even for a moment, by Mother’s bright light showed up for the funeral, offering condolences and leaving letters or small trinkets in what would be Mother’s casket. Their words rang hollow in Arcane’s ears. No amount of “I’m so sorry for your loss” or “She’s in a better place” would ever replace the fact that she’s not here! It made her angry, it filled her mind with blazing rage! They didn’t know Mother! They didn’t know how she liked her tea! They didn’t see how she sang like a ringing bell while she cooked! They didn’t see how much she cared and supported Arcane with her magic. They didn’t see her at the end! No one came to visit! It was Arcane who was with her! It was she who walked in to find her dead! And all they could say was, “I’m sorry”?!

Arcane could’ve sworn she was steaming with all the white-hot rage that burned inside of her! She wanted all of them to go away! She wanted everything to stop!

Grandfather knelt down to plant one last kiss on his daughter’s head.

‘Wait, stop!’

He began to push the little boat onto the water, knees shaking as he did so.

‘Stop! Please!! Don’t!’

With one last push, he clambered into the boat, rowing away. Rowing away from shore, away from home!

‘Stop it! Don’t take my Mammy!’ Arcane ripped herself from her father’s side, racing down the shore.

“Arcane! Get back here!” Father called after her. She would not. She would never stop trying to get her mother back! She was hers! How dare the gods take Mother from her! How dare they!

“Mammy!!” Arcane cried out, pushing through the heavy waves that crashed against her legs as if the sea itself was refusing her entry. “Mammy!! Come back!” The cloud began to darken, nearly blocking out the sun, deep, growling thunder like a hungry beast.

Further, she pushed, the hungry waters beating against her small frame, daring to drag her under. She cried, gods, did she cry. Calling for her mother, only to be met by claps of thunder, only to be silenced by mouthfuls of salty water. She refused to give up! She couldn’t! That was her mother! Her arms slapped against the water, helplessly reaching for her mother as waves forced her down with such strength only nature could possess. It didn’t take much for the sea to subvert its dominance over the young girl, thrusting her head deeper, ever deeper, into the black depths, filling her mouth and lungs with its sanguine drink. For if she wanted to be with her mother, the water would take Arcane down with her.

In the moment, Arcane was okay with this. She was okay with being dragged deeper underwater, down to sunless fathoms below. If this was how she would see her mother again.... She was okay with dying.

But fate, it seemed, had other plans for her. Desperate hands fisted her cloak and from the murky water, she was brought back to the air, breaking to the surface with such a sharp gasp, her lungs threatened to burst. Arcane clawed desperately at the water, hands outstretched, reaching for the little rowboat that had now shrunk in size. Her frantic eyes darted behind her, who would dare take her back to shore?! It was her father! He hauled the drenched girl back to shore, slapping her hands away as she threw them back to hit him. She hated him! She hated what he was doing! She couldn’t go back to land!

With one last hard shove, her father practically threw her onto the rocks, her knees left bloody by the impact. Arcane ran to push past him, but he grabbed her, holding her tightly in his arms. She struggled against her father, slapping his face, kicking his stomach, fighting with everything she had to get back to the water.

“Arcane. Arcane! That’s enough!!” He fell to his knees and practically throttled her, grabbing her shoulders roughly and shaking her. “Enough of this, you hear me?! She’s gone! Your mother is dead! She’s fuckin’ dead!” The sound of his screaming left a ringing in her ears and sent daggers into her heart. She stared back at him, the same seafoam eyes she’d inherited filled with so much rage, dare she say it - hate.

Arcane opened her mouth to argue back, yet all she could muster was a pitiful half-whimper, half-strangled gasp. Her eyes peered over her father’s shoulders, just in time to see her grandfather tipping her mother’s corpse into the sea, sinking quickly from the heavy rocks, dragging her down to her final, watery grave.

It was too much! All of this was far too much for any little girl to bear! All the shock, the rage, the drowning grief balled itself inside her chest. She felt her fingers burn with electric fire, every nerve from the bottom of her feet to the top of her head roared like a monster against its cage. And with a deep, resounding inhale that seemed to suck all air from the sky.... She screamed.

Her cries echoed towards the Heavens. Her heartbreak shook the very ground she stood on. Her body burned with white-hot swirls of pure Weave that emanated from the very core of her soul, enveloping her in the purest, rapturous glow of magic. Her eyes were aflame with a blue light. She heard her father yelp in pain and snatch his hands away from her, recoiling at the sight of his wailing child. She continued to scream ‘til the very earth beneath her feet cracked and split. And then.... Darkness took her.

Translations and pronunciations:

Súil: Pronounced like "shool", taken from the song Siúil a Rúin, meaning "hurry, my love"

Lorcan: Pronounced like "Law-kuhn"

Ruairí: Pronounced like "Rory"

Naoisa: Pronounced like "Nee-Shuh"

Maira: Pronounced like "My-ruh" (literally just Maria with the I moved)

Naimh: Pronounced like "Nayve" or "Neev"

"A stór": Pronounced like "Uh Stohr", meaning "My treasure"

"diabhal beag": Pronounced like "Dee-uh-bool" "Bee-uh-g", meaning "little devil"

"A leanbh": Pronounced like "Uh Lan-uv", meaning "my child"

[zerogravity-photography]

The Importance of Candid Shots: Capturing Genuine Emotions at Baby Showers

Introduction:

Baby showers are one of the most cherished events for expecting parents, filled with love, joy, and heartfelt moments. As a significant milestone, it’s crucial to preserve these memories in a way that reflects the true essence of the occasion. While posed photographs have their charm, candid shots are where the magic truly happens. At Zero Gravity Photography, we specialize in capturing these raw, genuine emotions through Baby Shower Photography in Chennai, ensuring that every spontaneous moment is preserved for a lifetime.

Why Candid Shots Matter in Baby Shower Photography

Candid photography is all about freezing moments in time—moments that are often fleeting but filled with immense emotional depth. Here’s why candid shots should be an essential part of your baby shower photography.

1. Authenticity Over Perfection In any event, including baby showers, the best memories are often unplanned. The laughter shared between friends, the tearful hug from a close relative, or the surprised reactions during games—these are moments that truly reflect the atmosphere of the day. Candid shots capture the beauty of imperfections and the spontaneous joy that unfolds naturally.

2. Highlighting Genuine Emotions Baby showers are filled with emotions—anticipation, happiness, and sometimes even tears of joy. Candid photography captures these authentic feelings without interrupting the flow of the event. When the mother-to-be is smiling at a heartfelt gift or the guests are engrossed in conversation, candid shots bring those moments to life, making the memories even more meaningful.

3. Natural Interactions Between Guests Posed group shots are essential, but they often lack the personal connections that make baby showers so special. Candid photography captures the warmth of shared moments between family and friends. The hugs, laughter, and playful banter are what make your baby shower uniquely yours, and candid shots encapsulate these connections in a way that posed photos can’t.

4. Telling a Complete Story At Zero Gravity Photography, we believe in storytelling through our lenses. Candid shots offer a more complete narrative of your baby shower, from the decor and details to the genuine emotions shared by your loved ones. These unscripted moments weave together to form a visual story that takes you back to the joy of the day.

Why Choose Zero Gravity Photography for Your Baby Shower?

1. Expert Timing Our photographers are skilled at anticipating moments before they happen. Whether it’s the surprise on the mum-to-be’s face or the joyous laughter during a baby shower game, our photographers are always ready to capture the perfect shot. 2. Attention to Detail From the smallest decorations to the grandest gestures, we make sure every detail of your baby shower is photographed beautifully. Our keen eye for detail ensures that nothing is missed, making your baby shower album a visual masterpiece. 3. Comfortable Atmosphere We understand that not everyone is comfortable in front of a camera, especially during candid moments. Our photographers create a relaxed environment, allowing guests to enjoy themselves without feeling self-conscious. This is how we ensure that the emotions and interactions captured are 100% genuine.

Conclusion:

Candid shots are the heart and soul of Baby Shower Photography, capturing the unscripted moments that define the day. At Zero Gravity Photography, we excel at preserving these memories in their purest form. If you’re planning a baby shower and want to ensure that every genuine emotion is captured, trust us to deliver timeless photographs that tell your story.

Ready to book your Baby Shower Photography in Chennai? Contact Zero Gravity Photography today, and let us capture the beautiful, candid moments of your special day!

[georgemathew8899]

How to Find the Best Mother’s Day Flowers

There's no dismissing that flowers and Mother's Day will continually stay indivisible. In light of everything, who doesn't love getting a heap of new flower strategy? Assuredly, every mother would feel appreciated and loved with this sort of gifts. They are a sign of love and care in that special day. However, choosing the right Mothers day flowers on a tight spending plan can jumble.

The good news is there are numerous ways of getting a good deal on Mother's Day flowers without driving yourself to the limit. That means you don't need to go past your arranged spending plan. You can in any case get flowers that are beautiful and new without following through on the high shop costs. Investigate the tips beneath before visiting any Mothers day flowers gift store in Singapore.

Flowers are fun, yet their costs swell now and again. For example, roses and other kinds of flowers might be costly. Anyway, how about you go for other floral choices? You don't need to worry now as there are such countless beautiful and colourful flowers such as lilies, mums, or carnations that can cost a fraction of the cost. Make certain to reexamine your flower choices. Along these lines, you'll give the best flowers to your mom and still save a significant amount of your money.

Are there any flowers in your space? Assuming there are, they will cost way not as much as assortments that must be delivered in. It's fundamental that you settle for neighbourhood flowers since they can work wizardry. In the event that unsure, your florist will constantly guide you through the purchase decision from start to wrap up.

You'll likewise have to consider your area in light of the delivery. A floral shop close to your area will be less expensive than one conveying flowers from a far-off floral shop. Ensure you consider your area to try not to surpass your arranged spending plan.

Finding the perfect mom's bouquet for their special day doesn't need to be troublesome. A similar applies to choosing flowers that save you a significant amount of money. Different floral shops offer their flowers at various costs. Thus, it depends on you to think about costs at assortment of floral shops. Along these lines, you will be in a position to get a florist in Singapore that promises you the best arrangements around.

[zenasflower]

The Best Flowers in Liverpool

With Mother’s Day around the corner, there’s no better time to surprise your mum with a gorgeous bouquet of flowers. While it can seem tempting to buy a bouquet from your local supermarket, you might be able to save a few pennies by shopping around and ordering your blooms from a florist.

Passion For Flowers

Passion For Flowers in Liverpool has a wide range of products & services to offer. They are well renowned in the Flowers business and provide excellent assistance to their customers. The employees of Passion For Flowers are trained proffessionals and have good market knowledge. They always try their best to make their customer happy & satisfied. They are available round the clock to serve you and help you out in any way possible. They are also very prompt, courteous and kind to their customers. They have a strong presence in 146 Aigburth Rd and are growing day by day. They also go for online medium to increase their customer reach.

You can order the best flowers in Liverpool from the Passion For Flowers website. They offer a range of bouquets, flower baskets and posies to suit any occasion. They also specialize in sympathy flowers and funeral arrangements. Their flowers are made by hand with great care and attention to detail.

Arta’s Flowers

Arta’s Flowers is a beautiful little shop located in the bohemian and eclectic Lark Lane, Liverpool. It was founded by Arta Llabjani, a Kosovo born woman who decided to change her career path and pursue her dreams of becoming a florist. After working in finance for 7 years and dealing with some incredibly uncertain times, she finally took the plunge and followed her heart. Her store is filled with the best quality, unique and seasonal bouquets and arrangements. It also stocks a fantastic range of potted plants and candles produced by local makers. It’s definitely worth checking out if you are in the area!

This Private Limited Company was incorporated on 14 June 2021 with the registered office address based in Liverpool, Merseyside. They have been operating for 1 year 8 months and have 1 active director(s). Their SIC code is 47760 - Retail sale of flowers, plants, seeds, fertilizers, pet animals and pet food in specialised stores.

Dovedale Florist

Dovedale Florist is a long-standing flower shop located in Liverpool that never forgets the importance of traditional personal customer service. With friendly, professional and warm staff, they are always ready to assist you with all your floristry queries.

They offer a wide range of flowers that are fit for different occasions and celebrations. They have flowers for weddings, birthdays, get well, Christmas and sympathy that will surely bring joy to the people who will receive them.

Providing top-notch service, they also offer a fast and reliable delivery of fresh flower arrangements. They are open for same-day delivery and they work hard to personally hand-deliver all their orders.

This floral shop has been a leader in the industry for more than 120 years and they are constantly adapting to the latest trends. They have a dedicated team of staff who are very knowledgeable about floral design. They are also very passionate about their craft and strive to provide the best service possible.

Booker Flowers and Gifts

If you’re looking for the best Flowers in Liverpool, then Booker Flowers and Gifts is the place to go. They’ve been around for over 30 years and have charmed thousands of customers with their gorgeous flower arrangements.

The company is a local independent florist located in Mossley Hill, delivering same day and next-day across Merseyside. They’re also a proud winner of the Innovation in Business Award from the Liverpool Chamber of Commerce, recognizing their ongoing commitment to reduce their environmental impact and make the city a greener place.

In fact, they’ve been ranked the best florist in Liverpool by Three Best Rated and have been named North West Regional Winner at the English Wedding Awards! In addition, they’ve been awarded a membership of the Good Florist Guide, which is an exclusive and rigorous evaluation process to determine which florists truly offer the best flower and floral experiences.

[blooms12]

Flower Delivery in Blackburn North

Send your loved ones a gift they’ll never forget with a beautiful bouquet of flowers from an Australian florist. With a wide selection of local and imported flowers, you’re sure to find something for any occasion.

Florists deliver flowers across Australia and have a reputation for high quality, reliability, and exceptional customer service. They also offer a variety of flower delivery options for customers’ convenience.

Mother’s Day

For Mother’s Day, spoil your mum with a flower bouquet she’ll adore. Select from our exclusive range of floral arrangements and gifts that will remind her of your love and appreciation for all she does.

You’ll find everything from elegant roses to heartfelt gift baskets that your mom is sure to adore. Add a gorgeous vase or decorative keepsake to make this gift one she’ll cherish forever.

Treat the women in your life to something special with florist delivery blackburn north this Mother’s Day. East Lancashire is home to plenty of hidden gems and quirky activities that’ll put a smile on their faces.

Arm knitting workshops are available across Lancashire where you can learn how to make a pure merino wool blanket. Alternatively, a Lancashire-themed afternoon tea at Lancaster House will be the perfect treat for your mum. There are also plenty of other Mother’s Day events in the area. From concerts to a family day at Holden Clough Nurseries, there’s something for everyone in Blackburn and its surrounding areas!

Corporate Gifting

Corporate gifting is a great way to show your appreciation for employees and clients. It also helps build brand awareness and improves business ties.

The most effective gifts are those that create a psychological impact on the recipient. This is known as the endowment effect.

Employees and clients who feel appreciated are more likely to stay with your company for the long haul and work harder to make your business succeed. This is important for the health of your business and its bottom line.

Clients and prospects who feel valued by your company are more likely to refer others. This can increase your revenue and long-term growth potential.

Gifts can range from branded swag items like mugs and notebooks to custom care packages and experiences that don’t include a physical product. They can be sent both internally and externally to promote a company’s values and culture, which is why so many businesses are turning to corporate gifting as part of their marketing strategy.

Valentine’s Day

Valentine’s Day is a special day dedicated to showing your loved ones how much they mean to you. You can show your affection by sending flowers to your special someone, sending them a romantic card and gifting them delicious chocolates!

A popular flower choice for this occasion is roses, a traditional expression of love. They come in many colors and meanings to fit your loved one’s preferences, such as red for passion, yellow friendship, purple adoration, pink joy or white unity.

For a more exotic touch, orchids are also a great option! They are known for their rare beauty and radiate a feeling of strength and power that your Valentine will love.

There is no better way to show your love this year than by sending flowers to your sweetheart! Order early to ensure your order arrives on time.

Occasions

A flower delivery in Blackburn North is the perfect way to send your well wishes or congratulations on a new baby, new home or even a job well done. We can help you choose the best flowers for your occasion and deliver them in style via our same day flower delivery service, 6 days a week.

Our floral concierges can also help you with something more specific, like a corporate flower delivery, or maybe just a special birthday gift for your daughter or son in law. The right flowers for the right occasion will ensure that your flowerdelivery experience is a delight to both you and your recipient. The most important thing to remember is that the flowers you order must be the best ones you can afford, as the freshest blooms will make all the difference when they arrive at their destination. The best way to do this is to use our online flower shopping tool to compare prices and services from a range of local flower delivery businesses.

[zoneofblog]

We know this day can be challenging for the people who have lost mums or have troublesome relationships with theirs, so for those in that situation, why not treat your stepmom, or even a close mum-friend rather?

Regardless of whether we can’t see them at this moment, the ladies in our life deserve celebrating – thus, we have planned a guide for the most thoughtful presents accessible to purchase online.

[comfortwriting]

Best Friends Brother Part 3 - G.W

Masterlist, Requesting Rules, Writing Prompt Masterlist

This is part 3 of ‘Best Friends Brother’ please read part 1 and part 2, want to be tagged? let me know! 

George Weasley x Fem Reader slow burn

Warnings: mention of food and eating, swearing, 

The moment your lips touched, fireworks went off around you, George wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close to him - all of your worries withering away, all you could feel was happiness and pure bliss.

George pulled away from the kiss and slowly opened his eyes, you were in shocked and couldn’t believe who’s lips had collided with yours moments before.

Opening your eyes slowly, you stared into George’s brown ones, his gentle hands holding yours and squeezing them softly.

“T-Thank you for tonight” you blushed, letting go of one of his hands, tucking a stray hair behind your ear nervously “It’s been wonderful.”

George smiled softly and nodded “it has” he paused for a moment, his thumb tracing circles into your palm “same time next week?” he asked, sounding quite nervous.

You squeezed his hand back in excitement and nodded “I would love to” you beamed.

Your three month anniversary was hanging around the corner, you had planned a whole day out on Saturday once George finished Quidditch practice, your heart fluttering in excitement and skipping beats, causing you to squirm in your seat - giggling out and squealing, confusing those around you, especially Ron who thought you were going barmy.

Despite seeing each other every day, the two of you were keeping things secret, you weren't ready for anyone to know - George knew his little brother all too well and so did you, Ron would be far from happy.

“George didn’t say anything to you after he, you know?” Ron asked, acting quite shifty in his chair.

“No he didn’t” you replied, “he’s not interested in me Ron, he just hates creeps.”

“Where were you last night?” Ron asked over breakfast, staring at you questioningly.

Shit! Think of something! I totally wasn’t kissing your brother, no, not at all.

“I went for a walk” you lied “I just had so much energy and needed to get out, I found an injured little owlet and was up all night nursing it, he’s helping me get over Penny.”

Ron believed you and nodded slowly “are you sure you’re ready for another owl?” he asked, trying to sound as caring as he could.

You sighed “I think it’s about time, yeah” you replied “It’s been almost over a year so I figured why not.”

So instead, you wrote to each other a few times a week, you had to admit, you quite liked the schedule; Wednesdays and Sundays nights were for the love letters, Saturdays were for dates unless he couldn’t skip Quidditch and the rest of the week you barely spoke and only engaged in eye contact if you were in the company of others - if not, you would hold hands and kiss in empty broom closets or even in the astronomy tower, but it was rare as Fred was never far behind from his twin.

Dearest Y/N,

Although we see each other every day and go on dates most weekends (when Ron isn’t on your back, or when I’m in detention like now) writing to you feels just as good as the real thing - but still bloody ridiculous.

Fred keeps asking what I’ve spent my Galleons on, told him it was for an experiment to do with our products we’re testing - he’s suspicious but believes me after I made myself sick to get out of Quidditch, oh the things I do for you, Y/N.

I think Gideon is the perfect name for the Owlet, mum will be so heart warmed and honoured when she finds out - but don’t bring the galleons into it of course, not until the joke shop is up and running with great success!

Seeing you last night up in the Astronomy tower was nothing short of the highlight of my day, I wish we could do it more often, but not to worry - one day we won’t need to meet up in private at all.

Anyway, I better get back to some homework before the greaseball comes over and reads this - detention with him always drags.

The next one will be longer, I promise, love.

Lots of love,

Georgie.

Dear George,

You should be focusing, get your head down and do your homework if you can bear it, I swear George, the day I receive a letter from you that wasn’t written in detention will be the day I wink at Snape - it’s silly I’m even asking you knowing that it’s never going to happen.

Your letters always cheer me up, Georgie, I can hear your voice as I read, feels like you’re sitting next to me and it’s good enough for me at the time being, I’m so thankful that we aren’t hundreds of miles away from each other.

Hey! You can’t be skipping Quidditch for me, you plonker! Gryffindor team need you and you’re a bloody good Beater - unbeatable in fact but stop skipping! we can make up for a lost date another time, I’ll try not to miss you too much I swear.

Thank you for gifting me Gideon, he is the sweetest little owlet and I cannot wait to watch him grow and to teach him like I did Penny - if his mother will let me that is. I won’t say a word to anyone, no one will know that you did such a thing although I want nothing more than to tell everyone, your kind-heartedness should never go unnoticed.

The joke shop will sweep you up off your feet and I can’t wait to see Weasley wizard Wheezes everywhere I go.

Thank you so much for last night, please don’t forget to send me your Christmas list - please don’t get me anything - Gideon is enough.

Focus on your bloody homework!

Speak soon and lots of love,

Y/N.

Looking over and your Owl, now named Gideon who had grown so much he was no longer a tiny owlet, you stroked his head and giggled at him as he nibbled on your finger.

“Alright, alright, but don’t be out too long” you whispered, opening your bedroom window, Gideon flapping his wings, leaping out and soaring into the night sky.

You beamed at your treasure, flying away to get some food for the evening, climbing into your bed as quietly as you could, hoping you wouldn’t wake up Hermione or your other roommates. Sliding your hand under your pillow, you patted around for the love letters from George you were hiding from everyone.

Your fingers grazed the corners of the crinkled parchment, lifting up your pillow you retrieved his most recent letter, taking it with you as you dive under your covers, shielding you from your roommates and giving you some privacy.

“Lumos!” You whispered, a beam of light stretching out from the tip of your wand, your cheeks flushing again upon seeing George’s handwriting.

Dearest Y/N,

Thank you for the heads-up, saved me and Freddie a lot of trouble, I swear one day Mr Filch and that bloody cat won’t know what’s hit them - if it wasn’t for you, we would’ve lost all of our plans and The Marauders Map, so thank you again for saving us all that trouble.

These three months have flown by so fast, I can’t believe it, I know this seems rather daft - a tall prankster being all lovey-dovey like this, but you really make me happy and I can’t wait to spend more time with you.

If you ever want to test any puking pastilles or fainting fancies, let me know and I’ll be able to look after you, love.

Looking forward to seeing you on Saturday so we can actually speak face to face - if Ron asks, you already know what to say.

Wrap up warm, it’ll be quite cold in Hogsmeade.

Looking forward to seeing you,

lots of love,

Georgie.

“Where are you off to so early? We never see you anymore over the weekend!” Ron complained, a mouthful of bacon.

“Oh get some manners, Ronald!” Hermione hissed, knitting her eyebrows together and grimacing.

You stood on the spot and stared at Ron, trying to plaster the most obvious expression on your face to make him feel stupid. “I’m off to spend some quality time with Gideon, he’s only a few months old and I want to make sure he’s as stable as Penny was at her age - I won’t be able to trust him to send letters long distances otherwise.” you lied.

But in all honesty, you weren’t really lying completely, next weekend was the end of term and the start of the Christmas Holidays - you wanted to make sure Gideon could deliver George’s letters to the burrow, you wouldn’t be able to hide them around for him to stumble across and pick up any more, and the two of you already discussed the problems of trying to use a device which muggles called a telephone.

“I’ll write you letters every week” George whispered, standing next to you in the corridors swarming with busy students, Fred chasing after Angelina outside “look in the middle of your textbooks, I’ll slide them in the middle of the pages.”

Opening up your book, a piece of folded parchment slid down and fell into your lap, you quickly stuffed it into your pocket, looking around to see if Ron noticed - luckily for you who he was copying Hermione’s classwork.

Ron looked lost for words, swallowing his bacon and thinking about your owl and how much you truly loved them “Alright then, well, see you later.” he replied,

You raised your eyebrows and smiled, waving goodbye to him, Harry and Hermione, walking out of the Great Hall and getting ready to meet George in Hogsmeade.

“She spends too much time with that bloody owl if you ask me” Ron muttered, stabbing some peas with his fork.

Hermione sighed “I think it’s quite sweet actually, she’s quite similar to Hagrid.”

Harry grinned and started to laugh, Ron rolled his eyes.

“Except the fact that she’s not a giant and she only flocks to birds of prey, not dragons or creatures that could kill us!”

“Well, at least you know where she’s going” Fred called out, walking past his brother “George never tells me where he’s off to and what he’s up to on a Saturday, he’s skiving Quidditch practice again and I get in bothered for it - I can’t check either because he’s got that sodding map with him!”

George wasn’t wrong, this time of year, Hogsmeade was freezing - your fingers changed colour and you could feel the ache and tingle against the freezing air that nibbled on your exposed skin.

You embraced yourself in one of the jumpers he had given you, one you were wearing under your fluffy winter coat which matched the colour of the snow. Looking around the small Village, you noticed George waiting outside The Three Broomsticks, looking slightly nervous as he scratched the back of his head.

You walked up to him, as you got closer you couldn’t help but blush at his red nose that had been attacked from the harsh winter air “Hello, George” you smiled softly, pulling him into a hug after clearing the coast of possible students.

George held you in his arms for a moment, taking in your scent and the feeling of your face against his chest, your hair under his chin as it rested on your head. “shall we get a drink, love?” he asked softly.

Following him inside and getting sat down in a quieter area of the pub, George ordered you and him a butterbeer and held your hand over the table, casually checking the map every now and then, checking on his brothers.

“It’s so good to see your face” he smiled, his starry eyes getting lost in yours.

You blushed and smiled widely, your drinks being placed down on your table, “It’s so good to see you too, can’t believe it’s been three months already!”

George took a sip of his butterbeer, the butterscotch warming up his tummy, you mirrored him, leaving behind a white foamy moustache. George smirked and leaned over the table, carefully avoiding spilling his drink as he wiped away the foam sitting on your top lip with his thumb, his index finger lifting up your chin.

The two of you exchanged a quick, risky kiss, remembering you needed to tone things down despite how hard the temptation was to snog him. George leaned back in his chair, sucking the foam off his thumb.

“I’ve been training Gideon” you beamed, the butterbeer warming you up “he’s finally got the hang of flying long distances and coming back in one piece.”

Meeting George in the small and squashed broom closet, he examined your tired features, looking slightly concerned, his hand resting against your face.

“Are you alright love?” he asked, “you look exhausted.”

You nodded and replied “I’m fine” suppressing a yawn “been up all night with Gideon, he’s growing so fast and he won’t allow me to baby him forever - he’ll be big enough to deliver letters soon.”

George felt a part of him fall in love with you all over again, the picture of you and Gideon in his mind made his insides got all warm and fuzzy - more so than his drink.

“So now he’ll be delivering you letters over Christmas!”

George went quiet and scratched behind his head like he did when he stood outside the pub, he paused for a moment and pursed his lips, licking them. “About that..” he trailed off, staring at his now half-full glass of butterbeer.

Your insides started to sink suddenly but your hopes were lifting, trying to figure out what he was going to say.

Is he staying at Hogwarts for Christmas with me whilst everyone else goes home? Am I unable to send him letters over Christmas if he goes back home?

“What is it?” you asked, both curiously and nervously.

George broke out into a smile, quickly glancing at the map again, then looking back into his favourite pair of eyes.

“Well, I was wondering...” he paused again “if you would like to stay at the burrow over Christmas, with me, everyone else of course but-”

“Yes!” you squealed, getting excited “oh George I would love to!”

George broke out into a grin, so relieved you were willing to come and spend some more time with him, a chance for the two of you to try and get some private time together, in the comfort of his own home.

“I had to ask mum ‘on behalf of Ron’ so if she says anything, just go through with it” George said quietly “Ron wouldn’t remember asking me to do such a thing anyway - his head is that clouded with Hermione.”

You swallowed down the rest of your drink, remembering to wipe away your foamy moustache this time “This is going to be wonderful, George” you smiled, squeezing his hand over to the table “Two whole weeks that we can just.. just be ourselves together!”

George smiled but remembered to remind you “We still need to keep everything on the down-low, it will be a full house and if we disappear it will be obvious we’re together - we’ll just need to wait for everyone to go to bed or go for a walk when they’re too busy to notice.”

You nodded your head, remembering that you would now be under not just Ron’s watch, but every Weasley who wouldn’t approve of your budding relationship.

George kissed your hand and looked down at the map once more, his smile dropping.

“Shit!” he panicked, getting up out of his seat.

“What is it?” you panicked, following him to the back doors in the pub.

He stared down at the map, his eyes following the group of feet storming into Hogsmeade “Fred, Ron, Harry - everyone’s heading this way - to this bloody pub!”

You swallowed hard, the butterbeer churning in your stomach, George’s drink rising up into his throat.

“When we can get away I’ll head to the owlery!” you put your coat back on, pulling the zip up quickly “you go hurry to Honey Dukes or Zonko’s when you get the chance, you’ll find your letter folded in your Quidditch jersey!”

George nodded, looking up from the map and quickly kissing you on the lips, the look in his eyes expressing the most sympathy you had ever seen.

Keeping things a secret would only get harder, harder than you and George were expecting.

Tag list: @amourtentiaa @reeophidian @inglourious-imagines @alwaysnforeverfangirl @horrorxweasley @sebby-staan @xmalfoyweasleyx​

[celosiaa]

you can talk to me

Summary: Jon may or may not be questioning his gender.  Either way, Martin is there to listen.

CW: dysphoria, periods, panic, self-deprecating thoughts, food mention

for a prompt from @transcendentalbf! <3 hope you all enjoy!

Sasha: you wanted channa masala, right?

Martin: yes! got it in one!

Sasha: of course I did! be back in 15

Martin: <33

Setting his phone back on the desk, Martin tips back in his chair and lets out a sigh, pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes.  Though it’s been nearly three weeks since he’s started living in the archives, that doesn’t mean that he’s gotten used to it—if anything, the long hours of being constantly on the lookout for anything creeping or crawling across the floor has only served to heighten his pre-existing anxiety.  It’s so lonely here. The low ceiling of the basement seems so vast when you wander beneath it in the dark—and even now, with his friends promising to return with lunch for him shortly, he can’t help but feel the weight of their absence.

Christ, Martin.  You’re pathetic.

Can’t even handle a bit of pain.

As if the thought alone had caused it to happen, the aching roar of his cramps flares up once more, causing him to bend over the desk to breathe through it yet again. It’s just so embarrassing—he’s been on T for years now, surely the bleeding would have stopped—but alas, no such luck to be had.  Of course he would be one of the people for whom it gets worse.  Of course.

I’ve got to text her.

Martin: hey, do you have ibuprofen? didn’t want to look through your desk without asking!

Sasha: course! middle drawer. you okay?

He wants so badly to lie to her, say it’s fine—but he can’t really do that after asking for pain relievers, can he?

Martin: fine!! just having some cramps is all, it’s okay!

Sasha: aw, I’m sorry, Martin :/ need anything else? I can stop by the store later if you need

Martin: not yet. might soon though

Martin: I’m sorry.

Martin: please don’t tell Tim

Sasha: I would never. and don’t worry about it! it’s no trouble. I’ll get you some stuff later, alright?

You’re a burden you’re a burden you’re nothing but a burden

Martin: thanks, sash. you’re the best!

Sasha: <3

Returning his phone to its place on his desk, Martin has to stop to take a few deep breaths—heart pounding with embarrassment over the entire discussion.  He knows it’s alright, knows Sasha means it when she says she doesn’t mind…right?

Jesus, stop it.

Just…take a walk, and  you’ll feel better afterwards.

Standing a bit painfully on swollen legs, Martin swallows a few of Sasha’s ibuprofen before he makes his way toward the stairs, hoping for a chat with Rosie while waiting on lunch.  At the very least, he could get some sunlight, escape from the windowless basement for a while.  He could only hope that the worms aren’t too bad up there.  

The lift dings its arrival to the main floor, where Rosie immediately turns to greet him with a warm smile.

“Ah, Martin! How are you, my dear?” she says as he approaches, looking genuinely glad to see him.

“Can’t complain!” he beams, leaning against her desk with one elbow.  “You doing alright?  Staying out of trouble?”

“You know I’m not,” she laughs, swatting playfully at his arm.  “But neither are you, I’m sure.”

“Got me there.”

Martin can’t help but smile back, pleased at the thought of bringing happiness to someone’s day, satisfied to listen to her stories of cats and knitting circles and whatever soaps she’s been watching on telly.  It reminds him of his mum, a bit—the nicer parts of her, anyway.

“Oh, that reminds me—“ she bends down beneath her desk to pull out a thin package, handing it over to him.  “This was delivered for Jon this morning.  Probably listed the Institute on the order form by accident again. Would you be so kind as to take it to him when you go back down?”

Holding it in his hands, Martin can feel the shape of the thing within it—some sort of soft fabric, stamped on top with a return label indicating a very nice clothing brand.

Date clothes.

He’s got a date.

Even as his heart sinks, Martin curses himself for it—it’s none of his business, Jon wants nothing to do with him, has no interest at all—after all, how could he? How could he when he’s…well, him?

“Stop making this about you, Martin,” he hears his mother say, closing his eyes against the memory.  “You’ve always got to spoil everything, don’t you?”

“Martin? You alright, love?” Rosie asks quietly, and Martin looks up to see her worried face—hand coming to rest lightly on his arm.

Damn it.

“Oh, ha, of course, Rosie!  S-sorry, it’s just—“

He backs away from the desk, pressing the call button for the lift.

“I’d better get back downstairs, then.  Don’t—don’t want to keep Jon waiting.  For his package, I mean.”

The lines of Rosie’s face only deepen, staring concernedly at him as he steps into the lift.

“Oh—alright, dear,” she says, a bit surprised at his sudden retreat.  “Come back and visit sometime, alright?  I’ll make us tea on your next break.”

“That sounds lovely,” he replies, forcing a wide grin to his face, flooded with guilt that she feels the need to make tea for him, when that’s supposed to be his responsibility.

“Nasty child, always making things about yourself.”

God, stop it.

“I’ll see you later then,” he continues with a wave, begging the lift doors to close quickly and hide his face.

—

Breathing deeply a few times before Jon’s office door, Martin finally gathers the courage to knock.

“Come in,” comes Jon’s baritone from behind the door, and he swings it open with a gentle creak.

“Hey, sorry to interrupt—Rosie had a package for you at the desk,” Martin says in as cheery a tone as he can manage, holding out the floppy package to Jon.

At once, Jon’s eyes go wide—he snatches it from Martin’s hands, setting it quickly out of sight with a blush rising to color his cheeks.

“Oh, th-thank you, Martin, erm—must have, must have accidentally sent it here,” he stammers, hand reaching up to rub at the back of his neck, no longer meeting Martin’s eyes.

Just get out just get out

“It’s no trouble,” he replies, and it’s far too happy, too sharp, too loud to be natural. “Sorry!  Sorry.  I’ll just be going, then.”

He closes the door on Jon’s shocked face, clearly surprised that Martin had not kept trying to make conversation, as usual.  Stepping away from the door, he tilts his head back against the tears springing to his eyes—Jon was so clearly flustered by the package, confirming what he already knew: he’s seeing someone else.

Stop it stop it stop it

Furious with himself, at the hollow cavern of his chest, he turns toward the break room—determined to at least make this lunch normal and pleasant.  

Just be normal.

For once, just do it right.

—

Though the hour is just barely approaching 8pm, Martin is more than ready to settle in for what he hopes might be some half-decent sleep.  He’d been on the lookout for worms all day, as usual, but had really found very few—and certainly none within the sealed doors of document storage.  Even if the air feels a bit stuffy, it’s nice to have a bit of added security that those things couldn’t possibly reach him in here.  Or so he hopes.

It’s as if the cot has its own gravitational pull, beckoning him to just tip to the side, to let it all wash away into sleep—the only problem being that he cannot yet bring himself to take off his binder.  To put it mildly, it’s been a day, even with the lovely lunch Tim and Sasha had brought him, even with the warming cup of tea he and Rosie had shared. The idea of kicking his dysphoria into an even higher gear  is enough to set his heart pounding again, so much that every time he tries to just take it off, your lungs will thank you—he can’t get past even touching the hem sitting tightly against his ribcage.

Leaning back against the concrete wall, he smacks the back of his head against it a few times in frustration, before ceasing at the pain reverberating through his skull.

Just take it off just take it off just—

He pulls it up just a little higher.

Nononononono I can’t I can’t I can’t—

Bringing it back down against his pounding pulse, he forces himself to take deep, grounding breaths, shuddering and hitching a bit as his frustration builds up to form a lump in his throat.

Pathetic pathetic pathetic—

His thoughts are interrupted by the buzz of his phone against his thigh.

Sasha: hey, Martin—I popped some tampons and pads into your desk drawer.  saw your door closed and thought you might not want company right now.

Sasha: and I got you some ice cream.  double chocolate fudge.  I’ve left it on the top shelf of the break room freezer.

Sasha: hope you’re alright—love you <3

Oh god.

Martin feels his eyes welling up as soon as he starts reading, the tears causing the words to swim almost too badly to see.  God, Sasha—she always knows what to say, just what he needs—and he barely had to say a word about it.

Martin: love you too, Sash.  you’re unbelievable.  I can’t wait to tuck in!  love love love you <3

Sasha: good man!  I don’t want to see any left by the time I get in tomorrow.  goodnight, handsome <3

Oh god oh god oh god

He can’t help but clutch the phone tightly to his chest, allowing a tear or two slip down the side of his cheeks with a soft smile.  “Good man,” “goodnight handsome—“ even if he knows she’s saying it because of the dysphoria, it means everything to him that she would even think about it. That she would even notice it.

That she cares enough to want to make him feel better.

Dizzy with happiness, Martin slips out from under the covers and heads into the archives to retrieve his ice cream.  

—

Spoon and his wonderful frozen gift in his hands, he makes his way back to document storage—knowing that if Jon were there, he’d be livid to see him take any sort of food or drink into a place where such precious pieces of spooky history are kept.  In spite of himself, he lets the corners of his mouth turn up at the thought, imagining how terribly cross he would be, hands on his hips, shouting up at Martin, who stands a foot taller than him—

There’s a light on in Jon’s office.

Surely he’s…not…

Worry pooling in his stomach, Martin pads as silently as possible over to the partially-open door, peering inside just in case, hoping against hope that he’s not going to find more worms, or someone covered in worms, or Prentiss herself—

His heart leaps into his throat at once.

Inside the room, he finds Jon—with no worms in sight, no injuries—staring at the full length mirror on the wall.  Hanging from his frame is a loose and flowing dress, thin shoulder straps drooping down into a dark navy ‘v’ across his chest, blue and white striped skirt falling graciously around his hips and to the floor.  Slits in the fabric run from the hem up to his knees, giving the entire piece such a feeling of freedom—and the look on Jon’s face says he feels just the same.  His eyes sparkle as he moves about in the skirt, feeling the fabric against his legs, reaching up to let his hair hang loosely over his bare shoulders.  It’s lovely, it’s soaring, it’s—

Intensely private.

Oh god, I shouldn’t be here.

Desperate to leave as silently as he came, Martin takes a step back—right onto a worm wriggling beneath his foot.

“AAGH!” he yells, dropping the ice cream and spoon at once, scrambling backwards to grab a book from the desk behind him, smashing into the horrible little thing until it is well past dead.

“God, sorry,” he pants, swiping a hand across the sweat of his brow, setting the other to rest over his chest as he bends over to catch his breath.  “Sorry, I must have scared you, I just saw the light on, and I—“

When he looks up, he’s greeted with the sight of a man frozen in place—eyes wide with shock, and…fear?  He stands with his back pressed against the opposite wall, no breath visible in the movement of his shoulders as he stares back into Martin’s eyes.

“A-are you alright?  Jon?” he asks carefully, taking a cautious step forward.

He receives no reply in return—the only movement visible to him the shakiness of his legs.

“You don’t look w—oh, Christ,” Martin yelps, rushing forward to catch Jon as he starts to slip to the ground.

It strikes Martin suddenly that he still hasn’t seen Jon take a breath—and he begins heaving at once, lungs gasping for oxygen.

“God—that’s it, just take a breath, just--just take a breath,” Martin encourages nervously, sweeping his eyes over him for some sort of injury.  “Are you alright?”

Jon does not reply for a few moments, eyes still blown wide and wild, before at last turning them up to meet Martin’s gaze as his breaths begin to slow.

“Y-you—“ he begins, before his eyes sweep downwards for just a sliver of a moment. “You’re wearing…a binder.”

Oh, Christ.

With a start, Martin looks down at himself—only just realizing that he’s crouching in his boss’s office, wearing nothing but his boxers and a skin-tone binder.

“O-oh, God, I—“ he instinctively brings up his arms to cover himself.  “S-sorry, I just—I didn’t mean—“

“N-no, Martin—that’s not—that’s not what I meant,” Jon assures in a anxious rush, reaching out to touch his arm—before hurriedly jerking it back.

“No?”

“No, I—“ he cuts off again, pressing a hand over his chest as he takes another grounding breath.  “I’m really—I’m actually…relieved.”

Now Martin is properly confused.

“You’re…relieved?”

“Yes, I—“ he looks up, laughing a bit wetly before continuing.  “I suppose you…you wouldn’t…I suppose you would understand. Perhaps.”

“Understand…”

It hits Martin like a train, now that the panic of a possible crisis has been averted: the dress.

“OH!  Oh, I—I’m so sorry I burst in on you, Jon, I didn’t…I wouldn’t…I wouldn’t do that.  On purpose.  I can leave you alone?  Or to change, if you feel uncomfortable.”

“I—I think I would like that.  To change, I mean.  You can—“

He drops his gaze to the floor.

“You can come back.  If you want.”

For a moment, Martin allows hope to swell in his chest—before quashing it rather forcefully.

“O-Okay! Sure, I’ll just—I’ll be back in a mome, I’ll just…put some clothes on.  Right.”

Elegant exit made, Martin briefly allows the shock to wash over him before dashing back to document storage—popping on a pair of pyjama trousers and a band t-shirt, sure to grab a canister of CO2 for proper protection this time.  On his journey back, he spots the ice cream he’d flung to the floor at the sight of the worm—a bit melted now, perhaps—but if anything warrants some slightly-melty ice cream, it’s the conversation that he thinks Jon wants to have now.  Turning on his heel, he grabs two spoons from the kitchen, and by the time he gets back, Jon’s office door has been propped back open.  He knocks against it lightly all the same.

“Jon? Alright if I come in?”

“Y-yes—erm, have a seat, if you’d like,” he says from his desk chair,  now back in his typical work-day cardigan, hair pulled into a bit of a messy bun.

“Right, sure,” Martin replies, settling in the chair opposite him and offering a smile. “Feels like I’m about to give a statement or something.”

To his complete surprise, the corners of Jon’s mouth actually turn up a bit at this—and though he still will not meet Martin’s eyes, something about the openness of his expression tells Martin to mark this moment as one to remember.

“I suppose it must feel rather like that,” he agrees, beginning to fiddle with a pen on his desk, staring intently at it.

They sit like this for quite a while—letting the silence settle, as Martin tries to intuit whether or not he ought to say something.  Worrying at his bottom lip to keep himself from speaking, he tries not to stare at Jon, wanting him to feel comfortable, just wanting him to know that he’s there for whatever he needs to say.

It’s the most unnatural thing in the world for him to do—but it appears to have been the right decision, as Jon at last begins to speak.

“I haven’t,” he begins, before clearing his throat.  “I’ve never worn a dress before.”

Ah. So it is what I thought.

Leaning forward against the table, Martin tilts his head in an effort to let Jon know that it’s okay, you can look at me, you’re safe here—but he’s not quite ready yet, and Martin is certainly armed with patience.

“I think that’s great, Jon!  I think that’s really great that you tried it,” he begins, hoping that this is what Jon needs to hear in this moment.  “Do you want to—I mean you don’t have to, but—do you want to talk about it?”

Brows furrowing, Jon stops twiddling the pen long enough to glance up at him.

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, I just…I mean…how did it make you—feel?” Martin clarifies, and Jon nods in response.

“Ah, I see. I—erm—“ and away he looks again, back to staring at the pen, perhaps more nervous than Martin has ever seen him. “It’s…difficult to say, I suppose. I’m not quite sure yet.”

“That’s okay, that’s perfectly natural,” Martin is quick to assure, running a hand over the bits of stubble that have crept up over his chin.  

He remembers this, remembers the doubt, the exploration of what he did and did not want, what he did and did not feel—it was far from easy to do, and he’s starting to think it’s much the same for Jon.  

Perhaps I ought to start at the beginning

“Are you—and you don’t have to answer this, but—are you…thinking about your gender identity?” he asks, watching Jon’s body language carefully.

He seems to curl up further into his seat, shoulders hunching in a way that makes Martin’s own hurt just looking at them.

“I don’t—I don’t know,” Jon mutters, hugging his arms tightly across his chest. “I’m…hesitant to say, really, I just…”

He sighs, leaning back into his chair and closing his eyes, arms braced against each arm rest.

“I happened to see that dress a few months ago, and it wouldn’t leave my mind, and I had some extra money to spare, and…and I bought it.  I don’t know why.”

All of this spills from Jon in such a rush that it winds him, still not opening his eyes.

“That’s okay, Jon.  Really. You don’t need to know why right now, okay?  This kind of stuff can be complicated,” Martin soothes, letting out a little huff of laughter.  “Believe me, I understand.”

At this, Jon opens his eyes again, bringing them up to meet his ever-so-slowly.  Once they land there, though…Martin has a feeling that they will be fixed on him for the rest of this conversation, though he cannot put a finger on why.

“Would you tell me?” Jon asks in a near whisper, leaning against arms which he’s propped up on his desk.  “I mean—I would like to know how you found out, if you don’t mind.”

“Ah. Right.  Erm…well, I suppose I was pretty young when I started to figure it out. I’d never…I’d never really felt like me in my body, you know?  The long hair, the school uniforms, just…it wasn’t right.  At least not for me.”

He pauses for a moment, half expecting Jon to interrupt, to tell him he’s heard enough—but Jon still appears transfixed, as if he’s drinking in every word he has to say.

“But I didn’t really understand what that meant until secondary school.  I was…well, let’s just say it was an upsetting time for me all around, right?  One day I felt upset enough to chop off my own hair in the bathroom.  And it was long by that time—nearly down to my waist.”

He laughs briefly at the remembrance, running a hair through his now-shorn locks.

“I cut it off—and it was like some small part of me started to understand.  I couldn’t stop thinking about it.  I tried to dress in what I thought boys should wear, walked around dressed like that to see what would happen—and the first time that someone called me “Mister Blackwood,” I just…it’s was like a great big wave of relief. It was like someone finally saw me. Like I finally saw me.”

Pausing there, he looks back up at Jon’s face—still reverently focused on his own. It sends a chill up his spine, in not an entirely unpleasant way.

“Thank you, Martin,” he murmurs at last, lowering his hands away from his face to stretch out across the table.  “Thank you for telling me.  That’s very…insightful.”

“Is it?” he replies, leaning towards him once again.  “Can you tell me why?”

He can almost hear the gears turning in Jon’s head—the lines of deep-seated thought clear on his face.  After a rather long silence, he begins to speak again, voice more certain than it has sounded all evening.

“The feeling of it.  What you said about not being able to get it out of your mind, I just—” he breaks off to sigh, frustrated with the way the words are stringing together.  “I’m not saying I understand completely, because it’s obviously your experience and not mine, but…”

He swallows, setting his face with such strength of intention that Martin finds himself bracing for the impact.

“I liked it. The dress.  I liked the fabric, I liked the way it…the way it looked on me. I…I liked feeling…feminine, I suppose you could say.”

In this moment, Martin is not sure he has ever felt such a surge of affection for the person before him—which is saying quite a lot, all things considered.

“I’m really happy for you, Jon!  Thank you for sharing that with me, I know that’s not always easy.”

Jon’s only response is a curt nod, his penchant for decorum and professionalism shining through even in this moment of relative vulnerability.

“Could I ask you—have you thought about pronouns?  Or names? I mean—I’m happy to call you however you want to be called.  Or perhaps even to try something new out, if you want.  Just to see,” he quirks up a little smile at him, pleased that Jon feels comfortable enough to look back at him.

“Erm—I suppose I had thought about it a bit,” he says as he wraps his arms around his middle again, a gesture that Martin knows to be one of self-comfort.  “I…I don’t think I would want to change my name. Not now, anyway.  I rather like how it sounds.”

“That’s alright!  I…I think your name is lovely, if that matters,” Martin replies—flushing as he realizes what he’s just said.  “Erm—anyway, what about pronouns?  Do you want to keep using he/him?  Or do you want to try something else?”

Again, Jon seems perfectly at ease to think about this in silence for a bit—turning away and twirling a loose strand of his hair with his right index finger.  That all-too-familiar twinge in his chest returns with a vengeance at the sight, endlessly endeared to everything about him.

God, stay focused for one moment, Martin.

“I—would you mind to try they/them?  I don’t—I don’t think I want to try it around the office yet or, but…would you?  Try it?”

“Of course!” Martin breathes at once, hand reaching out instinctively to cover Jon’s own where it rests on the table—and to his utter shock, Jon does not even flinch at the contact, nor try to pull away.  “Of course I will, Jon.  Do you want me to try it now?  I can say some sentences so you can feel it out.”

“I…yes. Yes, that would be lovely, Martin,” Jon replies softly, still not moving his hand away.

“Right. Erm…okay.  This is Jon. They work at the Magnus Institute. They’re the Head Archivist, and their work is very important.  I like to bring them cups of tea in the afternoon, and they wear cardigans almost every day,” he pauses there, reading the smile creeping up on Jon’s face like the sun breaking through the clouds—and knowing in that moment, that they must have gotten it right.

“So?  How did it feel?”

The smile takes on a full-bodied appearance now—eyes sparkling dark and gentle across the table, boring into his own with such depth of meaning that Martin is not sure he could ever fully take in.

“Yes,” they reply simply, smile spreading even wider.  “Yes, I—I rather liked that.”

“I’m really glad, Jon!  I mean—I would have been glad even if you didn’t like it, of course—the important thing is that you tried it out,” Martin stammers, nervousness somehow creeping back into his words.

“Thank you, Martin.  I’ve…greatly enjoyed this talk,” Jon says, at last pulling their hand away from beneath Martin’s to point it at the forgotten tub of ice cream, currently sweating a circle of moisture on the wood of their desk.  “I think you might want to get back to this before it melts, however.”

“Oh!  Oh, right—I forgot I sat it there!” Martin replies, grabbing it quickly and rubbing a sleeve over the damp spot it created on the wood.  “I actually—“

No no no, stop.

Don’t make it awkward

Don’t ruin it don’t ruin it don’t—

“Would you like some?” Martin presses on, against every voice that tells him to do the contrary.  “I—I actually brought two spoons, I thought…I thought maybe you could use a pick-me-up. After I barged in on you like that.”

The expression Jon gives back to him now is a mixture of things—incomprehension, confusion, disbelief—and perhaps, just perhaps, a small bit of delight.

“You don’t—you don’t need to do that, I—“

“I insist, Jon. Please have some with me,” he interrupts, handing him one of the spoons.  “Sasha told me to have it gone by morning, and there’s no way I can do that myself.”

“Well,” Jon replies, taking the spoon from him with just a whisper of a grin.  “I suppose we’d better get to work, then.”

“Let’s.”

[berrynarrybanana]

Holiday Wishes, Mistletoe Kisses

A/N: This was meant to be a blurb, but I got carried away. I honestly don’t know how I feel about it, but I wanted to post some Christmassy stuff in between now and Deck the Halls, so here’s a little something. It’s basically over a thousand words of Harry pining for some girl he just met. That seems to be my favorite trope, yeah? Anyways, I hope you enjoy and I hope that you all remember that Christmas isn’t about what you have or what you’re able to give, it’s about spending time with the people you love the most. I’m always here for you all if you need me and I love you loads. Thank you! 

Word Count: 5.1K+

Warnings: A little smut, pining, flash forward, ofc

Prompt: “You’re wearing the Santa hat, whether you like it or not” | Taken from this post here! 

It wasn’t that Harry hated Christmas. 

He loved spending time with his family, drinking mulled wine and talking shit with his Mum and Sister on the couch until the morning light. He loved the Christmas cookies that everyone seemed to bake just for him. Every single one of his friends would wrap them up in cute, candy cane striped cellophane bags with a little bow as if they were worried he’d been deprived of sweets. He loved the warmth that enveloped him when he stepped into any building, dodging the cold winter winds and brutal snowflakes that hit his skin. He loved most things about the season, but he truthfully hated the actual holiday itself.

He hated the music, each song covered by about twenty different artists, (yet, they always sounded the same, somehow), playing on a loop on every single Christmas station. He hated how rude people were in the shops and on the road, as if their time was more important than anyone else's. He hated the stigma around giving expensive gifts, stressing over the perfect thing to get each of his friends. If he could, he’d give them all something homemade, but he was shit at doing anything crafty. 

His boots crunched against the snow as he walked towards his mother’s front door. 

He let himself in, kicking his shoes off before he removed his scarf and his winter coat. He could hear laughter from the kitchen, Gemma and his Mum giggling far too loud. They must have cracked into the mulled cider a little early, and truthfully, he was jealous. He’d spent the last four hours stuck in traffic listening to white Christmas over and over and over again. He shut the front door as Evie wrapped herself around his legs, her soft purring catching his attention as he glanced down at the black and white kitten. 

“Hiya, darling girl.” He crouched down, scooping her into his arms before he delivered a series of kisses over her head. “Daddy’s missed you, eh. Have you been good for your nan?”

She meowed in response, causing Harry to coo at her before he scratched under her chin. 

“That’s my girl.” He pressed another kiss to the top of her head before setting her back to the ground. 

He knew they would indulge in several cuddle sessions over the next few days, so he wasn’t worried about missing his one and only pet this holiday season. He walked through the house, finding his way into the kitchen where Gemma was tipping back a glass of dark red liquid, and his Mum was rolling out cookie dough with a bright smile on her face. What Harry wasn’t expecting, was the curly haired girl with a cookie cutter in her hand next to his Mum.

“Hello!” He called out, offering a smile as he walked over to the kitchen island. “I see we’ve started having fun already.”

“It took you forever to get here!” Gemma said defensively, picking up a chocolate kiss before tossing it at Harry. “Do you want a drink?”

“Something hot, it’s like the bloody tundra outside.” He shivered at the thought of the harsh wind, his eyes trailing back towards the new girl. 

“Stella makes the best peppermint hot chocolate you’ve ever had in your life.” Gemma groaned out, her eyes rolling back in her head. “She puts peppermint vodka in there.”

“I can make you one if you’d like?” Stella’s voice was soft and painfully american. “We’ve got a slow cooker full of hot chocolate.”

“If you don’t mind.” Harry gave her a smile as he pulled out a stool, sitting next to Gemma. “Nice to meet you, Stella. I’m Harry, by the way.”

“She knows who you are.” Gemma reached over, pinching Harry’s side. “Stella is a new transfer at work. She’s new to England, and we thought we’d show her a proper English Christmas.”

“Stella, love, you should probably find another family to spend Christmas with if you want a proper English Christmas.” Harry snorted. “Ours is half arsed at best.”

“We have a lovely Christmas, thank you.” Anne piped up, flicking flour in Harry’s direction as Stella laughed softly. “Don’t scare the poor thing off, we’ve just made her feel at home.” 

Stella turned her back, walking towards the stove.

“I suppose we do have a good time.” Harry hummed out. “I can’t wait to watch How the Grinch Stole Christmas for the millionth time.” 

“They’ve got an animated one now!” Gemma exclaimed. “We’re going to do a double feature.”

“Lovely.” Harry rolled his eyes. 

Moments later, a steaming mug of hot chocolate laced was placed in front of Harry. 

He looked down at the grinch mug before looking back up at Stella. 

“Thanks.” He offered her a smile, but she merely nodded back at him before taking her place next to Anne again. 

He watched her, sipping at his drink as Gemma and Anne chatted about some Hallmark movie that was meant to premiere at some point during the week. She wasn’t normally the type of girl that he dated, but he had to admit that she was beautiful. Her cheeks were round, a soft blush smeared over them that he assumed came from a makeup product. Her lashes were thick, and long, shadowing her hazel colored eyes. She had thick brows that seemed a little unruly, and plump lips stained with a plum colored lipstick that matched her smoky, purple eyeshadow. He wasn’t a huge fan of the plum color, but he had to admit that it brought out a lot of the warmer tones in her eyes and in her beautiful, brown skin. He also thought that it complimented the lighter strands in her curly brown hair that bounced about everytime she turned her head. 

He tried not to be too obvious with his curious gaze, but he couldn’t help it. He was almost mesmerized by her beauty, but he was more so confused by his attraction to her. She was far too quiet for his taste, her eyes cast down on the cookies she’d been cutting out for the last few minutes while everyone else chatted. 

He watched her place them on the tray carefully, obsessing over how they landed before she reached for the colored icing. He watched her pipe onto the little shapes, her tongue nestling in the corner of her mouth as her unsteady hands worked diligently on the cookies. 

This was a Styles family Christmas, and the Styles were a rowdy and messy bunch. He’d never seen his Mum or Gemma put that much work into sugar cookies before, and it was almost painful to watch her perfect each and every one before she slipped the tray in the oven. He watched her reach for the cheeky little chicken shaped oven timer that Gemma bought when his Mum fist moved into this house. In all of those years, he’d never seen anyone actually use it. 

“Did you hear me, my little turtle dove?” Anne brushed her hand over Harry’s back as he sipped at his cocoa. “They’re calling for a huge storm this weekend, are you packed for that?”

“I left some stuff here the last time I was around.” He turned his head, smiling back at her. “I think I should be fine if I get stuck with you lot.” 

“Good.” She nodded, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “I’ve missed you.” 

“Missed you too, Mumma.” He wrapped an arm around her back, pulling her into a hug. 

The warm scent of vanilla and musk greeted his senses, flooding him with comfort and nostalgic memories of cuddling with Mum on the couch. He missed having her around him. He missed having his best friend around to comfort him when he needed it the most. When he let go of her, his heart sank a little in his chest. She pressed a kiss to the top of his head before moving back to work on more cookie dough. 

“Why are you making so many cookies?” He asked, brows furrowing as he brushed his fingers over the sickly green mug with the cartoon characters face on it. “Do you plan on feeding an army?”

“No, but Stella suggested that we take some down to the local homeless shelter on Christmas Eve.” Anne smiled over at the girl. “That’s her family's Christmas tradition, and since she’s not with them this year, we thought we’d make it happen for her here.”

“Thank you again, for agreeing to this.” Stella smiled at Anne. “It really means the world to me, and I can’t thank you enough.”

“You’re a part of the family now, dear.” Anne teased. “Even if you’re not spending Christmas with us, this little tradition of yours has been officially integrated into our own Christmas tradition. We’ll always have a little bit of Stella with us during the Holiday’s now, eh.”

Stella laughed at that, reaching her arms out to wrap Anne in a hug. 

Harry almost felt a little jealous at how seamlessly she fit in here. 

“If you keep staring at her, she’s gonna want to run back to America.” Gemma nudged her elbow into his side. “We get it, she’s hotter than you.”

“Oh, shut up.” Harry rolled his eyes at Gemma as she smirked. “I wasn’t staring.”

“Okay, Casanova.” She snorted. “Whatever you say. 

**

Harry wasn’t sure why he was hard. 

He just wanted to close his eyes and go the fuck to sleep. 

After a long day of travel, and an even longer evening filled with Harry pulling down Christmas decorations from the attic, he just wanted to sleep. He wasn’t looking forward to taking the annual trip to the Christmas Tree Farm tomorrow. Since Robin passed, Harry was the only man in the family, which meant that he often had to do the heavy lifting. He found that most of his strength lay in his core, despite the amount of lifting he’d done to buff up his arms, and he wasn’t looking forward to tossing a tree on top of his car while everyone watched. 

Truthfully, that was the worry that should have been plaguing his mind as he lay in bed. Instead, his mind was lost in hazel colored waves that crashed on dark plum shores. He couldn’t stop thinking about Stella’s eyes or her perfectly shaped lips. He spent most of his night watching her drink from a wine glass, her cheeks turning a shade darker with each joke that she shared with his family. If there was one thing that he was shocked about, it was the dry humor that tumbled from her perfect plum colored lips. She was a funny girl, despite being quiet, and he laughed at every single joke she told without shame. 

As he shifted his about, trying to avoid any further thoughts about her lips, the tip of his cock brushed against the warm flannel of his pajama pants. He let out a throaty groan, reaching down to push his palm into the crotch of his pants to soothe the pressure building in his lower belly. He couldn’t jack off to the thought of Gemma’s new friend, it would be awful, and it would surely land him on the naughty list. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying his best not to picture her lipstick staining his lower belly, his upper thighs, and eventually...the shaft of his cock. But after a few minutes of trying not to think about it, that was the only thing he could see behind closed eyes. 

With an annoyed grumble, he dipped his hand into his pajama pants, tugging his cock out while his free hand pushed the band of the pants down his hips. He licked over his dry lips, making a mental note to buy some chapstick tomorrow as he gave himself one, swift stroke. He bit the inside of his cheek, trying not to moan as he brushed the pad of his thumb over the weeping slit of his cock. He was pathetic, dripping down his cock over a girl that he barely knew. He couldn’t believe that he was being that guy right now, tugging at his cock desperately to the thought of a beautiful girl on her knees for him. He wanted so badly to have her there, whispering filthy words in that gentle tone she had, encouraging him to cum on her tongue. 

When he did cum, her name spilled from his lips. 

His chest was heaving as he came down, the tinkling of Stella’s laughter filling his ears. 

Seconds later, he heard her bid goodnight to Gemma before the door next to his own shut. 

He was totally fucked for this girl. 

**

The next morning, he didn’t expect to see Stella sitting at the breakfast bar when he came downstairs. 

He stopped in the doorway, his cheeks growing warm as he looked over her sweater covered back. Thoughts of her name tumbling from his lips last night flooded back as he looked at her. She was wearing a lavender colored, cable knit sweater, and her curls were tied up in a messy ponytail on top of her head. Most of the curls had fallen out, covering up some of her neck alongside her fingers. Her cheek was propped on her palm, her gaze focused on her laptop as she lifted a mug of steaming liquid up to her mouth with her other hand. 

Harry cleared his throat, walking toward the stove so he could put the kettle on. No one else in the house would be up for hours, but Harry couldn’t turn off his internal alarm clock no matter how he tried. He also hoped that he might find a moment of peace from the very girl sitting in his Mother’s kitchen. She haunted his dreams, her face playing on the silver screen in his mind all night long. He hated how infatuated he was with this woman that he barely even knew. 

“Morning.” She spoke up first, her voice scratchy and tired. “Did you sleep well?”

“Splendid, yeah.” He nodded, filling the kettle with water. “You?” 

“I’ve slept better, but that’s to be expected.” She said softly. “I spent a little bit of time on a skype call with my brother’s, so I was up longer than expected.” 

“But you’re up fairly early this morning, aren’t you?” He put the kettle on the stovetop before turning around, his eyes landing on hers. “Why’s that?”

“I wake up this early anyways.” She smiled at him. “I usually like to go for a walk in the morning to wake myself up.”

“That’s nice.” He lifted his hand, scratching at the stubble on his jaw. “I usually like to go for a swim or a run in the morning, too.”

“Where do you swim?” She asked. 

“There’s a men’s swimming club not too far from my home in London.” He said. “It’s freezing cold, but you get used to it after a while.”

“Jeeze, you swim outside in this weather?” She lifted her head from her palm, her eyes growing wide. “I could never.” 

“It’s an acquired taste.” He chuckled softly. “What are you working on?”

“A new piece for my blog.” She said. “I started out using it as a diary of sorts, but people apparently love reading about the disaster that is my life.”

“I’m sure it’s not all horrible.” He hoped that he sounded encouraging and not rude. “You seem like a lovely, and positive person.”

“I try to be.” She shrugged, reaching for her mug. “I could say the same about you.”

“I try to be.” He smiled at her. “Would you like some breakfast?” 

“Oh, I was actually thinking of popping down to this little bakery Gemma told me about-” 

“Mandeville’s.” His heart picked up, a smile stretching across his lips. “Had my first job there.”

“Yeah, that’s the one.” She laughed, wrapping both hands around her mug as she leaned back in the barstool. “I figured I’d go grab some pastries for everyone. I know it’s kind of a busy day with the Christmas Tree Farm, so I thought it would be best if your Mum didn’t feel the need to cook.”

“She would love that.” Harry said. “Maybe I could go with you? We could both get our walks in, and I can see Mary before she hunts me down and drags me to the bakery.”

“I would love the company.” She smiled. “But enjoy your tea first, I’ll just be working on this until we’re ready to go.”

“Cheers.” He nodded, watching her eyes drop to her computer screen. 

She wasn’t wearing a stitch of makeup this morning, and Harry almost wished that she was. 

He wished that she had covered up her beautiful, freckle covered skin so that he didn’t fall harder for her beautiful face. He wished that she was hiding away those little blemishes that made him swoon, because she was actually a human after all, not some angel sent down from heaven to torture him. He wished that she covered those beautiful lips in that plum lipstick again so that he could imagine kissing it off of her. He hated the feeling stirring inside of his belly, the butterflies a tell tale sign of his feelings. 

He had a crush on Stella. 

And there was nothing he could do to stop himself from falling for her. 

**

Stella’s gloves were precious.

They were a bright red, little snowflakes and reindeer stitched into them. 

She offered to let Harry borrow a pair of her gloves, claiming that she’d brought plenty of pairs for the winter, but he politely declined before shoving his hands in his pockets. She looked so cozy, wrapped up in her winter coat with a beanie on top of her head and a matching scarf tied around her neck. Harry wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms and cuddle her so that they could both stay nice and toasty on their walk. He wanted to kiss her bare cheeks, paying special attention to each freckle on her skin as the winter sun cast over them. 

He was so infatuated with her that it was almost embarrassing. 

“I can’t even imagine what it was like, growing up in a place like this.” Stella turned her head towards Harry, the tip of her nose a little red. “It’s so picturesque.”

“It’s alright.” He gave her a small smile. “I always wanted to get out when I was a kid.”

“Of course you did, we all do.” She chuckled. “I think everyone should run away for a little while, it really gives you all of the tools you need to really appreciate your hometown when you go back. I don’t know that I’ll ever move back to my hometown, but when I visit it, I feel a little bit more appreciative of the pivotal role it had in raising me.”

“I feel the same way about Cheshire.” Harry nodded. “It’s a big part of who I was, and that helped make me who I am. I wouldn’t be the same without this place.”

“Exactly.” She said. 

“So where exactly are you from?” He asked. “I mean, obviously America-”

“Is it that obvious?” She asked, narrowing her eyes playfully, her lips pursed. “I don’t think it is.”

“It’s a neon, flashing sign above your head kind of obvious, love.” He snorted. “But I can’t place what your accent is.”

“It’s not really an accent.” Stella shrugged, turning her attention back to the sidewalk. “I grew up on the road for most of my life, but my family settled in Georgia when I was about twelve.”

“Interesting.” He said. “How did you like Georgia?” 

“I didn’t, at first.” She laughed. “I hated it so much. I loved being on the road with my family, traveling places like Hawaii and Los Angeles. When we moved to the south, I despised everything about it. It was so plain and boring compared to places we’d lived before. But like I said, moving away has made me learn to love it more when I go back.”

“How long have you been gone?” He asked. 

“About three years.” She said. “I lived in Amsterdam for a year, and then Paris, and now I’m here.”

“Which place is your favorite?” He asked. “Be honest with me, now. You don’t have to say London just because you’re trying to get on my good side.” 

Stella tossed her head back, laughing loudly. 

“I think it’s truthfully London, Harry.” 

His name sounded like honey falling from her lips. 

“Why is that?” He asked. 

“Because I’ve found my chosen family.” She turned back, giving him a smile that thawed out the chill creeping up from his toes. “Starting with Gemma, of course. She was the first person to take me under her wings, and I’m so happy that I have her in my life. Then I started to find other people, and we all became this really close knit group of friends that felt more like family than my actual family does. I don’t know how I’ll ever leave this place.” 

“Maybe you shouldn’t.” He said softly. “Maybe this is home.”

Please don’t go, Stella. 

Stay here with me forever. 

Love me. 

“My contract is up at the end of the year, but we’ll just have to see how things go.” She said. “I might be convinced to stay.”

“Well, I guess I have a lot of work to do.” He chuckled.

“Why are you so keen on me staying?” She asked him, her brows raising as she gave him a knowing smirk. “Do you have a crush on me, Styles?”

His cheeks grew hot against the cold wind. 

“Alright now, don’t let that go to your head.” He grumbled, tucking his neck into his scarf as Stella’s smile grew wider. “It’s all your bloody fault, you know?”

“What have I done?” She laughed louder. “I’m just me.”

“That’s exactly it.” He let out a breathy chuckle. “You’re you, Stella.”

**

The Christmas Tree Farm was going well. 

That was up until Gemma decided that they absolutely needed to take a family picture in front of the big Christmas tree, Stella included. They had picked up a few little trinkets and such while walking around the market included in the farm. Anne picked up a reindeer headband with bells stitched in, plopping it on her head the second she found it. Gemma found an elf’s hat with little ears attached to the side, putting it on her hair before fussing with her hair. Stella found a crown made of poinsettias that she plopped on top of her curls, the red and gold working perfectly with her red lipstick and gold eyeshadow. Harry, however, wasn’t exactly in the spirit. 

“You’re wearing the bloody santa hat, whether you like it or not!” Gemma shoved it towards him with a frown. “If you stand next to Stella, you’ll like Mr. and Mrs. Claus!” 

“Shut up, Gemma.” Harry sneered, snatching the hat from her hands. “I didn’t tell you about that so you could throw it in my face!” 

“Well, I’m doing it for the greater good of our family photo!” She glared at him. “Put that hat on before I shove it on your head myself.”

“Fine.”

“Are you two alright?” Stella smirked, adjusting her crown on her head as she walked up to Harry and Gemma. “Santa is still putting people on the naughty list you know?” 

“If anyone’s going to be on the naughty list, it’s Harry.” Gemma tossed her arm around Stella’s shoulder with a proud smirk. “He’s being a pain in the arse.”

“Is the hat really necessary to the photo?” He groaned, dropping his head back. 

“Yes.” Stella and Gemma said at the same time. 

“Alright, alright.” He groaned, tugging the hat over his curls. “Are you both happy now?”

“Ecstatic.” Stella smiled brightly at Harry. “I think you look handsome.”

“I’m going to just point out…” Gemma pulled her arm from around Stella, tucking her hands behind her back. “That there’s mistletoe hanging from that piece of wood above your heads.” 

“Gemma-” Harry’s eyes grew wide. 

“And I’m promptly going to walk away.” She smiled at Stella. “Meet us at the tree in ten minutes.” 

“Gemma-” Stella held her hand out as Gemma walked away, her eyes growing just as wide as Harry’s were. “What a sneaky little elf.” 

“Tell me about it.” Harry shifted, adjusting the hat on his head. “Devious little-”

“Well, I guess we can’t break tradition.” Stella looked up at Harry, shuffling forward slowly with a little smirk on her lips. “I mean, what would Santa say if we didn’t kiss under the mistletoe?”

Harry licked over his bottom lip, his fingers twitching. 

“You really want to kiss me?”

“I might.” Stella’s toes were almost touching Harry’s now. “But the question is, do you want to kiss me?”

“I do, yeah.” He nodded. “I’ve been thinking about it ever since I laid eyes on you, Stella.”

“Well, what are you waiting for?” She raised her brows. “Now is your chance, Mr. Grinch, lay one on me.”

Harry lifted his hands, pressing them to Stella’s face hesitantly before he lowered his lips to hers in a soft kiss. It was a gentle peck, one that anyone would share underneath the mistletoe, but Harry wanted more from Stella. It seemed that she wanted more as well, her arms sliding around his neck as she pressed up on her toes. He let his hands fall to her waist as the kiss grew more intense, his hands holding onto her tightly as she brushed her tongue over his lower lip. He tried his best not to smile into the kiss, letting her have what she wanted by parting his lips. When her tongue slipped over his, he let out a tiny moan, gripping her hips tighter. 

“Get a room, you two!” Harry groaned, pressing his forehead to Stella’s. 

“Gemma, I swear to god-” Harry turned his head, whipping his santa hat off before he threw it in her direction. “Go bother someone else!” 

Stella laughed, ducking her forehead down to Harry’s chest as he rubbed his thumbs over her side gently. He felt her body shaking underneath his hands, his heart hammering in his chest when he realized just how close they actually were. He turned his head back, lifting a hand up to guide Stella’s chin up. He pressed his lips to hers once, twice, three more times before she pressed her palms to Harry’s chest. 

“We’ll never stop if we don’t move away from the mistletoe.” Stella whispered. “And I think Gemma might physically pull us apart if we miss that Christmas picture.”

“Let it be known that I’m only partaking in this picture because I want to stand next to you for as long as I can.” Harry smiled. “I think I have a little more than a crush on you, Stella.” 

“I think I have more than a crush on you, too.”

**

“Madeline, stop right there.” Stella let out a frustrated sigh as she looped her arm under the baby carrier, her eyes falling down to the sleeping infant. “Milo, promise Mumma that you’ll listen when you get to that age?”

“Give him here.” Harry brushed a kiss over Stella’s temple, his hand massaging her lower back gently. “You go catch up with speed racer, okay? I’ll be right behind you with the baby and the diaper bag.”

“Thank you.” Stella turned her head, puckering her lips out. “I love you.” 

“I love you.” He hummed out. “And our beautiful babies, even if one of them has a death wish and two left feet.” 

Stella snorted out a laugh, pulling her arm from the carrier before she stuffed her hands in her pockets. “I better go help her up the stairs.”

“Please, we don’t need a repeat of last year.” Harry smiled. 

“Yeah, I would like to avoid a trip to A&E this year.” Stella snorted. 

He watched Stella walk over to an antsy Madeline, her pigtails bouncing about as she jumped from foot to foot in excitement. Harry chuckled softly at his daughter, amused by her excitement. He was happy that she found so much joy in Christmas, just like her Mother did. He watched Stella hold a hand out, waiting for Madeline to take it before they both conquered the brick steps outside of his Mum’s house. When they got to the top, Stella lifted Madeline up, kissing over her cheeks as their daughter giggled. Harry lifted Milo’s car seat from the base, his eyes falling down to the six month old with hazel eyes and soft cheeks just like his Mother’s. 

“We’ve got our hands full with those two, mate.” Harry pulled the soft, wintery blue blanket up to Milo’s chin, tucking it around his shoulders so that he would stay warm. “Gonna keep us both on our toes, I know it.” 

Milo cooed up at him, causing Harry to smile wider before he ducked his head down to kiss his son's soft cheeks. 

“Let’s get you into Nan’s before you turn into a popsicle, my love.” Harry said. “Mumma won’t be happy if we have to spend Christmas thawing you out.”

As Harry made his way up the stairs, he couldn’t help but remember five Christmases ago. 

He was walking up the exact same steps on his own, unaware of the magic that was waiting inside for him. He was unaware that the girl Gemma brought home for Christmas would one day be his wife, and the mother of his two beautiful children. He had no idea that they would spend long nights together, planning their future and holding each other tight. He opened the front door to his Mum’s house, smiling at the sound of Madeline telling his Mother a story with animated gestures, her curly pigtails bouncing around as Stella tried to wrangle her jacket off. 

“And then Daddy told me we could get a puppy next year if I was good enough!” Madeline squealed out as Harry shut the door. 

He dodged the steely gaze he got from Stella after she heard the word puppy.

“Sorry.” He mouthed over at her, causing her to shake her head as she tried to fight off a smile. 

“You’re a menace.” She mouthed back. “But I love you.” 

“I love you, too.” He said it outloud, his heart soaring in his chest. 

Stella gave him a heart warming smile, Madeline’s coat still in her hands. 

Seconds later, Milo let out a tiny cry causing Harry to snap back into dad mode. 

He rested the carseat on the ground, carefully pulling his son out before pressing a kiss to his chubby little cheeks. As if Gemma could sense his presence, she barreled into the living room with her eyes set on Milo. 

“There’s my little man.” She held her hands out, wiggling them as Harry rolled his eyes. “You get to see him every day, Harry. Pass him over to his auntie.” 

“Fine.” He rolled his eyes. “Please be careful with him, I kind of like this one.”

“Piss off.” Gemma snorted out, sliding Milo onto her hip before pressing a bright red kiss mark into his forehead. “Has Daddy told you that without auntie Gem, you wouldn’t exist?” 

“Gemma-” 

“Can you believe that?” She looked up at Harry, a hint of something nostalgic and genuine sparkling in her green eyes. “If I’d never brought Stella to family Christmas, we wouldn’t have two beautiful babies to dote over every year.”

“I can’t even begin to imagine what life would be like without them.” He whispered. “Thank you, Gemma.”

“Harry, I really didn’t-”

“Gemma.” He said her name sternly, pressing his palm to her bicep. “Thank you so much, from the bottom of my heart. I love you.”

“I love you, too.” She said softly, her eyes watering. “Now, if you could do me a favor and bring a hot friend around, I’d really appreciate it.”

“I’ll see what I can manage.” He let out a wet chuckle, his own eyes watering. 

“What are we managing?” Stella wrapped her arms around Harry. 

“We owe Gem a favor.” He sniffled, turning head to press a kiss to Stella’s forehead. 

“Why are you crying, baby?” Stella frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing at all.” He pressed his lips to hers, softly brushing his nose against the tip of hers as his. “Just so incredibly grateful to have you in my life, that’s all.”

“You’re so sappy around the holiday’s.” Stella brushed her palm over his belly. “I love you, Mr. Styles.” 

“I love you, too, Mrs. Styles.” He said. “Merry Christmas, Darling.”

“Merry Christmas.” 

[arianatwycross]

I’m not sure if someone has sent you this one already, but 4 for Jily.

I was such a fan of the first one I figured if you’re up for it I’ll send more!!!

yay thank you! I actually love doing these so here's another one - lots of fluff so beware!

For the prompt: I’m supposed to be mad at you but you’re holding my face and smiling and I just can’t resist it when you’re pouting like that

“Mate, she’s going to actually kill you this time around”

“She won’t, she loves me” James replies with a toothy grin.

“Has she actually admitted to that yet though?” Sirius questions.

“Course she loves me, she wouldn't publicly go out with me otherwise”

“You are more than three hours late, AND it's her birthday” Sirius states, raising one eyebrow at his mate.

“But I bear gifts!” James replies, a tad too enthusiastically.

“I hope those gifts are good enough for you to not get dumped” Sirius mutters.

They all climb through the portrait hole and brush down their cloaks. Dirt and dust clings to their clothes, and only Remus has half a mind to actually use magic to rid them of all evidence of their antics.

“If James was more organised, we could have gotten her present last weekend instead of the day of” Remus states, heading towards their dorm.

“I told you Mr Flume said he could only get the next shipment in today, and it's not my fault that a plethora of small children were there for a birthday” James pushes past a grumpy Sirius and runs towards the dorm. It's that late, that no one is in the common room anymore and he hopes he can somehow get to Lily before it hits midnight.

He flings open the door, to find Remus sitting on the end of his bed and a red-faced Lily sitting at the headboard. Her red hair in a messy braid and her arms pulled tightly around her knees.

“Lils! There you are!”

Lily gives him a look he hasn’t seen since the start of the year. One that usually coincided with a nasty hex or a detention.

“I’m going to leave you to it and I’ll keep the boys downstairs for a tad longer too” Remus gives Lily a tight smile before tapping her knee and leaving the two alone.

“I’m so sorry Lils, I know I’m stupidly late and it's your birthday and you probably thought I stood you up but the boys can attest to where I was!-”

“I don’t want to hear your excuses James” Lily said in a voice so soft and weary, his heart did a depressing flop in his chest.

“Just wait - let me get your present”

“I don’t think a present will help you” She started to say and if his heart wasn’t racing with his efforts of diving under his bed and dragging out her gift, he probably would have been so emotionally distraught at her words that he could have just stood there and cried.

“Here”

He thrusted a small present into her hands, wrapped in shiny red paper with a small green bow on top. She held it apprehensively, her eyes on the brink of tears. He slowly sat on the edge of his bed, keeping his knees away from hers. He longed to touch her, he always did but now didn’t seem like the right time to be clingy.

“Please Lils, this is just your first present. But I was trying to find your other present tonight, I had to get it ordered in and then I got an owl saying it had been delivered and I’m so sorry but please please open this one at least” His voice started to crack slightly, and he was suddenly aware of how much he actually felt for the girl sitting in front of him. It was all-consuming and almost debilitating and his heart hurt just looking at her.

She thumbed the ribbon until it spilled open and carefully tore the paper away from the box. She held the small velvet black box in her palm and cautiously opened it to find a thin silver chain necklace with her mother’s pendant. She gasped slightly, her green eyes wide and slightly wet with tears.

“How did you get this?” she whispered.

“I got Mary to knick it from your jewellery box. I know the chain you had broke last year and I missed seeing it on you.” He watched for a reaction but she just kept staring at the small circular St Michaels pendant, the silver recently polished by the jeweller James had visited months before.

“Turn it over,” he whispered.

On the back of the silver pendant were engraved words.

“Love is magic”

Lily’s body shook silently as a wave of tears rattled her body.

“I’m sorry love” James murmured, immediately moving to her side and wrapping one arm around her. “I didn’t mean to upset you, I thought you would like it”.

She hiccupped before tilting her head up to look at him properly.

“How did you know my mum said that?”

“You mentioned it a couple of times. You know that time you were telling me about how your mum and dad met and she used to believe it was magic that brought them together? You said that was in their vows, you thought it was ironic considering you turned out to have magic. Two halves made you - magic” he squeezed his hand around hers that still clasped the jewellery box.

She pulled away suddenly, making James heart race erratically.

“Wait - Lils! Don’t go! I have something else. It seems stupid now and totally not worth making you wait and I really am sorry” he rambled, his nerves making his entire body tremble. He couldn’t quite believe he had really fucked things up. This was Lily, his Lily, he knew he would never be able to get over the heartbreak of her leaving him.

He pulled a parcel out from his invisibility cloak.

“I didn’t have time to wrap it...obviously” he said forlornly.

She pulled it gently from his hands and pulled back the brown paper. A large bag of multiple packets of Fizz Wiz laid before her.

And she laughed.

His heart rate spiked and he sat on the edge of his bed, in awe of the way she flipped her head back and laughed freely.

“Where did you get these from?” she asked, a large smile lightening up her face, her eyes and cheeks still wet from her tears.

“I had to get Mr Flume from Honeydukes to order them in, specially. There’s no muggle shop around here that sells them and I know they’re your favourite and I know that Mary sometimes gets her mum to send them to you but I also realised you hadn’t been sent any in a while so I thought I would stock you up” he rambled, again. He couldn’t help it, he always lost his cool around her. He was nervous and quite terrified of losing her and it made his brain run a hundred miles a minute.

“James, slow down” she grabbed his knee and squeezed it. The sudden touch sent a warm relief of comfort down his spine and he instantly relaxed. She was ok.

She looked at the sweets fondly. James watched as another tear made its way down her pretty face. Before he knew it, he was kneeled in front of her on his bed and cupping her face with his hands. Her big eyes stared back at him.

“I am so sorry Lils. I wanted to make today perfect and I sincerely ruined it for you. There’s no excuse for me being late, none that make it worth it anyway” He stroked her warm cheeks with his thumbs.

They stayed that way for a few seconds, both of them looking at each other.

“I love you” he said softly. He poured every emotion into his words, knowing that this was either the worst or best time to say it for the first time.

He waited for her to frown, or even pull his hands away from her face but instead he was shocked to find her smile back.

“I’m supposed to be mad at you,” she whispered.

Her green eyes twinkled, the familiar spark made James excitedly pull himself closer to her.

“You can be” he whispered back.

Her gaze was pulled towards the velvet box sprawled on his bed.

“Thank you for the presents” she said softly, a small smile itched at her mouth.

He pulled himself towards her, taking his hands off her cheeks before pulling her legs apart and wrapping them around his waist. She wrapped her arms around him, sitting on his lap so they were as close as they could be.

“I love you too” She whispered before softly pressing her lips to his.

[imonthinice]

The Criminal Psychology Majors, Jason Todd x Fem!Reader Part 6/?

Word Count: 2.6-2.7k idk exact

Author’s Note: Y/N - Your name, A/N - Any name (your best friend’s name)

MUSIC IS INCLUDED THIS TIME! Please enjoy my personal music playlist, or at least a snippet of it.

TO THE PERSON WHO REBLOGGED AND SAID THIS WAS CUTE (at least the first part) you straight up made me cry omfg

Warnings: Swearing, gets really fucking heated at the end (no sex, yet), no beta bitch we die like Jason Todd

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9) (Part 10) (Part 11) (Part 12) (Part 13) (Part 14) (Part 15) (Part 16) (Part 17) (Part 18) (Part 19) (Part 20)

Outfit Context:

Y/N:

Jason:

(Cause I finally found an outfit I liked on the boy, men’s fashion isn’t my strong suit,,, heh :) )

“Sorry, is my mouth hung open?” he asked.

“Yes, sir. Very much so,” she mocked.

Jason closed his mouth and outstretched his hand for Y/N’s, cupping it with both hands and kissing the top of it.

“You just look so lovely, Y/N.”

“And you’re chivalrous, Jay. Now, should we get going?” she asked, putting her free hand on top of his two.

“Yes, let’s go,” he let one of his hands go of hers and lead her to the Porsche he brought with him, not intertwining his fingers with hers.

He opened the passenger’s side door and let Y/N get in, not letting go of her hand til the last moment he could hold it. He got in an turned on the radio,

It felt like a good night, for dancing in the moonlight,

In empty streets, well, everybody's got a reason why,

If we could only just get it right,

Maybe it will all work out like in the movies,

But I know Romeo must die before the ending,

With a final poison kiss delivered gently,

Because you don't get lucky twice, and that's the truth,

“Sing to me sweet just like my memory, 

If New York City Still moves me then I’ve found something real,

I’ll be okay, I could go on for days,

But I just don’t have the courage that it takes to be real,

And even if it’s dark at least we’ll be together,

Slowly sinking in the Earth to lay forever,

You better grab a hold and hold on for your life,

Because you don’t get lucky twice,

No, you don’t get lucky twice,” She sung with the tune.

Without the Bitter the Sweet Isn’t as Sweet - Mayday Parade

“You, you have the voice of an angel,” he said.

“It’s not that hard to mimic works of art with my voice.”

“Did you ever take singing lessons?”

“I did when I was younger, so I could sing French lullabies to my cousins.”

He placed a hand on her thigh as he drove them through the countryside of Gotham to Metropolis, taking the long way on what seemed like purpose. So he could encapsulate the moment in his memory for as long as he knew her and what she was to him. She was an adventure waiting to happen, a love story not yet written to tell for ages, a rock ‘n’ roll song written to please the masses in hidden corners of the world.

And to her, he was a masterwork of intertwining memories of pain, sadness, luck and beauty. A mind of complexity she was just waiting to dive into and see how it functioned. A story behind the white tuff of hair he had, why he was jacked to the masses if he was a book nerd. A story of his favourite book and his favourite sibling, his favourite trope, his love, his pain, him.

The moments where she stuck her hand out the window and traced symbols into the Autumn air swirling past the two as they cruised down the empty back roads. When he laughed as she sang Reste by GIMS and Sting. He didn’t understand the lyrics, but she did, and she called it a love song. Well, he got the parts Sting sung, but French wasn’t a language he knew like she did.

“I guess being Bilingual helped you out massively with that one, huh?”

“It’s a talent I never knew I needed, apparently.”

“Well, you did know you needed.”

“That’s fair,” she laughed, “ I guess I did always need it as a skill.”

“Do your cousins speak English too?” he asked.

“Yeah, a bit? It’s better English than my father.”

“Can he not speak English?”

“Well, he can, just not well. But my mother is also Bilingual in English and French so they never had to worry about my father being bad at English. My twin sister and I grew up knowing both languages,” she rambled, still playing with the wind, “I guess it’s a one-up I have on a lot of people, being able to just talk and talk in another language, travelling advantage,” she kept going, Jason intently listening to her as she went on and on, he liked the silence being filled by her voice, “You know? You might know, I don’t know how you were raised to a T,” she finished.

“Well, I can assure you I only know English so you have that theoretical one-up on me, too. But I choose to see that one-up as something you can teach me as time goes on and we progress,” he paused, “If you’re down to get serious eventually, that is,” he panicked.

“Well, maybe we’re at that point where we can say we’re casually seeing each other and exclusive, but not serious. Hopeful, but not pressuring ourselves into something that’s going to be put under a lot of pressure as we go on,” she said, still playing with the wind.

“We’ll see about that after dinner.”

“Where are we even going?”

“Fancy little restaurant with a balcony facing over the city,” he assured.

“Really out here living for the moments?”

“Well, most girls crack under the pressure of the paparazzi, you, however, flipped them off, and that’s being rewarded for showing that you can’t give a fuck about those dingy ass tabloids and how they treat you, by taking you out to nice places,” he said.

She laughed, “I’m glad I’m never going to live that one down, it was really fun to do.”

“I hope it continues as we go along, I would hate to see that behavior change when it brings a smile to everyone who’s ever been harassed by paparazzi” when they pulled over for a second, Jason quickly loosened his tie a tad, “Honestly, I want to ditch this fucking tie,”

“It’s not you,” she said, “It’s just not.”

“And you know me that well to take that guess?”

“I could see you struggling with it from a mile away, Jason. Maybe the fancy restaurant isn’t us,” she laughs, “But we aren’t going to not take that dinner date.”

“Oh we’re so going to take that date, but I’m thinking from here on out we do whatever the fuck we want, no fancy dates. Thoughts?” he asked.

“Done deal,” she said.

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

In the restaurant, the two of them were basically the worst people to be there, it was levels of fancy that neither of them actually wanted, they both wanted simplicity, but they both thought the presence of the other person was enough of a takeaway from the completely wrong choice of restaurant. They had Dick to blame for this one, and Jason made that clear to Dick in a joking text while Y/N snuck off to the bathroom to ‘fix her hair, she was actually checking her breath.

Dick, this fucking restaurant is a god damn bust, man. We aren’t you and Barbara, that’s what we’ve discovered today. lol.

Bummer! We really like that place.

I can see why it screams Dick and Barbs.

You kissed her yet though?

No.

Wuss! Cat got your tongue? Just do it, man.

And at the same time, Y/N was texting A/N about Jason and what to do,

Girl! Thank you so much for reminding me to bring mints, my god, food ruins your breath so much.

You really want the pretty boy kiss huh?

No, I’m eating the mints to not kiss him, YES I WANT THE KISS.

Ha! Honesty is key, just go for it.

She laughed as she packed her phone into her dress pockets (Yeah there’s fucking pockets :) ) and went to leave the restroom to meet up with Jason again. To which, Jason had already paid and tipped the waiter.

“I could have at least helped on the tip, Jay.”

“I tipped him 200%, but if you want to drop more cash, go for it.”

“You tipped that much?” she asked while slipping in a 50$ she had on her.

“Of course, food service workers deserve a lot more than what they get, especially when they have to deal with terrible customers,” he said as he went and grabbed her hand again, not intertwining fingers again, “And my best friend, Will, he complains about people who don’t tip and praises people who quote ‘over tip’ but I think that he deserves 200% each bill for the shit he puts up with.”

“Did you tip him when we went there?”

“No, I called in a ‘No questions asked’ favour. And before you say anything, he did the same to make me babysit his daughter-”

“Your best friend has a daughter?”

“Well, he’s older than me, but yeah, he’s a single dad because her mum kind of sucks, lovely little girl, I’m her godfather.”

“Does she call you Uncle Jason?”

“Well, Uncle Jay, it’s like one of the only works she knows how to say properly, and Dada,” he laughed, “Great little girl,” he said, nervously, “This doesn’t change anything, does it? ‘Cause if he, knock on fucking wood, lord forbids, dies that will be my daughter.”

“Well, he’s not dead and you’re not worrying that he’s going to die, so nothing has to change. God kids are god kids, noble that you took on your best friend’s kid if, lord forbid, anything happens to the man, really,” she assured.

He sighed and kissed the back of her hand, “Then that is just a gift on top of what I did,” he smiled and lead her back to the Porsche once again, opening the car door for her and she slightly turned on the radio, he let out a small laugh to himself, he got the pretty girl. He got into the Porsche again and began backing out.

“There’s something about ditching a really expensive dinner date that leaves you wanting more,” she said, absent-mindedly.

“What kind of more?” he asked.

“The kind you see in the movies, fully exposed and adventurous, you know?”

“Well, we could always sneak into the Wayne Manor Gardens and dance the night away under the stars like lovers do,” he half-joked, placing a hand on her thigh again and pretending like he did it subconsciously, but he was hyper-aware, especially when he caught her smile as she laughed.

“Wayne Manor? With your brothers, sisters, dad, and grandfather?” she paused, “If you’re serious, then no, not tonight. If you’re pulling my leg then, hell fucking no,” she joked.

“Maybe one day, then, huh?”

“One day, for sure. When it isn’t scary to accidentally run into your family on their property running around with you,” she said.

“Well, we can always go into the Wayne Enterprises Ballroom and dance the night away, no one should be in the office for a while and even then since there are no classes in the entire school tomorrow you can just hide out in my office if we stay too long,” he paused to make sure she was still listening, “Security can’t question me because I’m Bruce Wayne’s son, and security is tight as fuck so paparazzi can’t get to us,” he paused to put a little bit of pressure on her thigh, “What do you say? Can I have this dance, Milady?” he half-joked.

“You want to know something Jason?

“Always, Y/N.”

“I took dance lessons when I was younger, can you Waltz?” she asked.

“Yes ma’am, I can.”

“Then I’m in, let’s go.”

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

She loved the feeling of being back in her new hometown, Gotham. So when they pulled into the massive black building, she felt even more welcomed, security at the gates did ask ‘Who’s the girl?’ but Jason just explained it very easily,

“You know that date of mine that flipped off the press and you lot loved it?” he asked.

“Yes, sir,” the man responded.

“You can call me Jason, you know that. But this is that girl.”

And they were let through the parking gates and into the underground parking system, they had to travel surprisingly far to Jason’s reserved spot in the lot, but the did get there before it hit AM. Once out of the car, Jason grabbed her hand and they ran into the building’s employees doors. It was a tight squeeze, but the feeling of Jason pressed so close to her sent chills down her spine. They went through many halls and reached the Ballroom, and entering it was like a dream for her.

Walls lined with intricate shapes and colours, but the colours never brought away from the stage at the far end from the door, the curtains seemed to redden with each step towards them, the 3, maybe 4 chandeliers hung above her like crystals in the ocean, it was amazing and beautiful. Checkered floorboards to give it a little bit of dimension, but it was the same colour as the main wall so your brain and eyes wouldn’t hurt after looking at it. It was stunningly beautiful and that’s what drew her in.

When he grabbed her hand and put on Never Let Me Go by Florence + The Machine, pulling her close to his chest and slowly Waltzing her around the room, spinning her when it felt right for him to do. Neither of them worried about the sloppiness or how it looked to the naked eye because it was for them. no one got satisfaction like they did at that moment. And grabbing her for one last dip was Jason’s goal when the ending of the song hit, although out of breath and his face stuffed in her chest as they both panted, he did pull her up so they were face-to-face on the dancefloor that they wiped clean.

“Did I tell you that you look stunning, Y/N?”

“I think you mentioned it a few times, Jay,” she said, staring directly into his eyes.

“Well, I mean it.”

“And I’m going to mean this,” she paused, taking her hand and placing it on his cheek, “ The way your eyes are a green-blue tint makes me lost in them, they’re like a sea of this mind I find myself liking more and more every day,” she paused to put her other hand on his other cheek, “And the way your nose and cheek freckles frame them is amazing.”

And he went for it. Somehow when he pressed his lips into hers, it felt like they were meant to match, and they both opened their mouths to play the coveted game of tongue-war, but they didn’t play by the rules, it was soft and sweet but full of passion and love, not lust. His hands would travel to her waist and lightly grip her, while her hands would travel to his neck and drape around the back of it.

They pulled away at the same moment to take in air, something they had clearly been missing as they were connected, they both let out a small chuckle before she put her hands in his hair and went in for round 2.

This time it was hungrier, and they both played with the shapes of the other so much more as time went on, he would grab her ass and she would pull on his hair slightly before he picked her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist and moved one of her hands to the nape of his neck, this time, they would break for seconds only to start moving towards his office, which, conveniently, had a couch.

To say he threw her on that couch would be an understatement, he fucking thrust her on that couch and climbed on top of her, it was like 3 days of passion and lust combined themselves in a matter of minutes from their first kiss to them meeting on the couch. They both knew deep down that it couldn’t escalate further than this, especially at 1 in the morning, but time moves fast when you’re connecting in this way.

They finally broke after their passionate exchange and he fell to her side and began to spoon her, “Worth it,” he whispered.

“Worth what?” she asked.

“It was worth it to take a chance and defy my anxieties to ask you on that first date.”

“I don’t like a reality where you didn’t ask me on that date.”

“Neither do I, and I’m positive of that.”

[kerie-prince]

We're Worlds Apart (2)

Draco Malfoy x American No-Maj!reader

series m.list | general m.list | previous chp

warnings: light cursing, mentions of death, angsty Draco

summary: Draco Malfoy is a pureblood wizard. Magic runs through his veins and has been since his birth. You're a Wiccan No-Maj; a non-magical being with ordinary blood through your veins, but practices what you call magick. And this very practice upsets your neighbor.

(gif not mine)

The surrounding neighbors have been very nice; one elderly couple walked up to Draco’s door with an apple pie, quite the American staple, and he seemed to appreciate it. They seemed normal and sweet. Much unlike the feeling he had for his neighbor. Y/N. He hasn't made any attempts in the month that he's lived in the small suburban neighborhood to see her. He avoided her like she was a deadly plague.

Albeit, it was probably harsh and extremely childish. The whole point of him becoming a new person was changing his views he had been taught in adolescence. Or else why did he help Harry Potter all those years ago when he swore he hated him?

It was currently around 3 in the morning, he was standing in his backyard and made sure no one would be awake as he sent his owl to send a letter to his best friend, Blaise. He was the only person who still contacted Draco on a regular basis besides the occasional letter from Theodore. Gregory cut all contact with Draco after the Battle, especially since Vincent had died that night in the fire in the Room of Requirement. Pansy was living her life somewhere, and although the Golden Trio had forgiven Draco for his actions, it didn't start any friendships. But Draco was fine; Blaise and Theo had been there for him in more ways he cares to admit.

He never mentioned a word about Y/N to Blaise until now when he asked what Draco’s American neighbors were like. Majority of the letter contained contents of how work has been, the differences in not only culture but also how things are called, and just his own well being. He did say something short for the elderly couple, but when it came to Y/N he had a lot to say.

These muggles are far different from the ones in England, Blaise. They know things about the magic world but input a fantasy in their heads. They believe they can actually practice witchcraft and wizardry, calling themselves “Wiccan” or whatever rubbish it is. Bloody hell, they even have films and tv programs of them. My neighbor is one of these and she does the most ludacris things in her house. Quite laughable, really. If Salazar was alive today to see this happening, I’d bet he’d curse the whole lot.

She had been lingering in his mind since that day of his discovery. It was annoying him. Every night, he would catch her in her room doing whatever the hell she was doing and he felt as if the universe was mocking him. This is what people think what you really are was the message he got from it all. Draco never thought something like this would make him feel like a freak. But he did. This act of hers was an indirect insult of what he was capable of. And she had no idea.

—

It was a fine autumn morning. The shop was closed today, so you had lots of time at home to catch up with cleaning. You stood over your bathroom sink brushing your teeth and saw from the reflection of your mirror your cat stretching herself before walking into the bathroom to rub herself on your legs. “Good morning, Aurora,” you cooed at her. She purred in response and ran off to her tower in the living room.

After getting changed into some comfortable clothes, you walked up to a closet in the hallway that had collections of crystals, oils, sage bundles and more. “Let’s see, where did I put the angelica root?” you asked out loud to yourself. Going through the shelves, you pulled some sea salt, ground lemon balm, ground angelica root, and a feather. You carried the items outside in a bowl to your backyard and set them at a small garden table. Walking over to your garden, you pulled some elderberry flowers and started your cleansing spell.

You sprinkled the salt onto a censor dish and placed a charcoal dish on it and lit it up. In the bowl you had used to carry the items out, you started mixing the herbs together as you waited for the charcoal to burn red. Once it did, you sprinkled the herbs on top, creating a cleansing incense. You picked it up from the bottom of the censor dish, picked up the feather and made your way steadily to your front door, lightly wafting smoke towards it. Reaching your front door, you drew a pentagram over it with the feather and smoke,

“Be gone negativity,

Here now blessed be.”

You repeat your incantations throughout the house until you have finished and walked back to your living room, drawing one last pentagram. You placed your feather and censor dish on the bare floor, stood up and tapped your foot three times,

“By my will, so shall it be.

Sealed now shall this cleansing be.”

You sat on your couch and turned on the television, waiting for the incense to burn out so you could scatter it around your backyard. After a couple of hours of watching a guilty pleasure of yours, you decided to get some actual cleaning done. First thing was to do some trimming and gardening outside, so you grabbed some gloves and headed out back to your yard.

Before grabbing your garden scissors, you looked up and saw something rather strange. There was an owl in your neighbors yard. In broad daylight. From the backyard, you heard a car pull in and peeked over the fence to see that it was your neighbor coming home. You ran to the front leaving a dirt trail in your house and ran out the front door.

He hadn’t walked in yet, so you started waving your arm, “Hello! I’m Y/N!”

He had just nodded his head and walked a straight line to his door. Not wanting to lose this chance of having a conversation with him, you yelled for him one more time, “There’s an owl in your yard!” His eyes widened and without a word, he ran into his house in a panic. From a distance, you heard him say 'shit' before closing the door.

Building up confidence, you walked up to his door and knocked a few times and patiently waited. You fixed your hair and stood surprised as he hastily opened the door. “H-hi! It’s so nice to meet you, I'm Y/N,” you stretched your hand out to shake his hand. He looked at it and had a displeased look, causing unease within you. Looking at your hand, you noticed you still had your gardening gloves on with dirt on it.

“Oops, sorry!” you chuckled as you took it off and reached out again.

Again, he just looked at you with a straight face for a couple of seconds before finally speaking, “Look, I’m really busy, so if you don't mind.” He shut the door without giving you any chance to say anything back. You stood there in shock, replaying his British voice in your head. And as you stood there, you wondered why it is that he doesn't want to talk to you. The Charles couple across from your house were able to introduce themselves, and even got a smile from him. But for some reason, you could never get the same treatment.

—

Ian had proposed to Draco a housewarming party during lunch. Of course Draco had never been to one, much less hosted one.

“It’s alright, boss. I can fix all the arrangements up. All you gotta do is relax,” Ashley proposed. To say that Draco is extremely happy is an understatement. He had friends that actually enjoyed his company and not his influence. Not that he had much of that anyway.

America was really working out for him; work was great, people were nice, and the area he lived in was peaceful. Yes, he didn't like his neighbor, but she wasn't ruining his life in this new country. He just didn't like what she did.

“Thank you, Ashley. And you know you can just call me ‘Draco’.”

“I know,” she replied. Ashley grabbed her Blackberry phone and started drafting up an email, asking for his address so she could let people know where it would be. “Is this Friday a good time?”

“Yes, that should be fine. I don't have any plans that day.”

“Great, it's sent out to everyone in our department. Now if you'll excuse me, I have an attending to watch over for a surgery. See you guys later!” Draco, Blaine and Ian waved at Ashley as she left.

Blaine left soon after, leaving Ian with Draco. “Alright man, how’s it going on your street? Are you finally settled in?”

“I finally got the last of my things delivered from London yesterday. I was a bit nervous though. That mugg— I mean No-Maj neighbor of mine saw my mum’s owl in my yard. Thankfully, she didn't ask any questions,” Draco said as he cleared his lunch tray.

“Wait, you still use an owl? Ha, I didn’t think people still did,” Ian chuckled. “Well, of course I do. Do you not?”

“No, most wizards here in the States just use the usual ground post that No-Maj’s use. Things are a bit more modern around here. Speaking of your neighbor actually, have you ever spoken to her?”

Draco shrugged nonchalantly and said a simple ‘No’ when he really wanted to scrunch his nose and eyebrows in disgust and say ‘Fuck no.’ Ian, however, is gifted in Legilimens. He heard what Draco really meant but kept to himself. I guess things are different in the UK he thought.

—

“Hello my dear baby, I just wanted to call and give you a heads up; your brother and I are coming for Thanksgiving. He’s bringing Stephanie so do me a favor, please no witchy stuff.”

The voicemail played out loud in the kitchen. Please no witchy stuff. Your mother had repeatedly explained to you that she was okay with ‘it’ all, but growing up you never really got on the same page with her. And you knew it was because of your practice. Your younger brother would say comments every now and then when you grew up, but he always stood up for you when other people called you a ‘satanic freak’. But never once did you regret starting the Craft. You enjoyed it and it made you feel whole.

It had been a week since your encounter with your, now known British, neighbor. It bothered you a lot that he didn’t seem to want to get to know you. You were lost in your thoughts that you almost didn’t notice the doorbell going off. You answered the door and saw your neighbor.

“Hi dear, do you think you could help me and my husband with something?” Mrs. Charles smiled sweetly at you. “Of course, what can I do for you?”

“My grandson is coming in from Vermont, would it be alright if you could give us a ride to the airport? I’d ask Draco but he’s always busy at work and I don’t want to be a bother.”

Draco? “I’m sorry, who’s that?” you had a confused look.

“Our new neighbor, dear. I thought you had met him already. You two are the same age after all,” she informed you. Draco. How unique. You instantly recognized the name from the star constellation. It was nice to finally put a name to a face. Distracted again, Mrs. Charles waited for your answer, “Y/N? Can you do it?”

“O-oh, sorry. Of course I’ll help. Frankie was his name, correct?”

“Yes, it’s Frankie. Thank you so much. His flight comes in on Friday. I’ll see you then,” you wished her a good night and looked out your window to make sure she crossed the street safely. The rest of the night consisted of you and and your cat laying on your couch watching TV, but what was on the screen didn’t have your attention. Draco did. And you had no idea why.

—

“Dude, why do you not have a TV?” Blaine looked around Draco’s house and studied the arrangements he had. It was quite plain, almost minimalistic. Looking around, Draco couldn’t help but think how different it was from the Manor back in London. Instead of grand chandeliers, moving portraits of the Malfoy’s before him, and intricate designs on the walls, he had simple white walls with just one moving picture of him, Blaise and Theo a couple minutes before a Quidditch game against Ravenclaw. He had a bookshelf full of old school books from Hogwarts and some small relics he liked from the Manor.

“I’ve never had one growing up, and once I moved here I just never gave any second thought of it. Besides, what would I even watch?” Draco replied. Despite having one letter off from being the same name as his best friend, Blaine reminded Draco of Theo. They were both funny and outspoken. He would’ve loved for them to have met. They’d probably get on.

A few moments later, Ashley and Ian knocked on Draco’s door. The door was unlocked for them to be able to open the door. They looked around the living room before settling onto the couches. “Okay so I was thinking that we can just have some trays of snacks and desserts with some champagne. Does that sound good to you guys?” Ashley suggested. They just nodded along to whatever she said. She had gone to the store with Blaine to get everything prepared before the party tonight.

Ian looked at the pictures of Draco with his friends and one of his mother that laid on top of a chimney. “Do you still have lots of friends from Hogwarts?”

Draco thought about it, “You know, I actually didn’t have a lot of friends back in school. Back then, I only hung out with probably six people. But now it’s just two.” He sounded a bit sad, but figured that two were better than none.

“Do you think of what happened a lot?” Ian implied about that day at Hogwarts. He had been the only one that Draco trusted enough to tell. “Sometimes,” Draco gave a short reply. The action of opening up was still new to him, but he knew he shouldn’t wallow in it. Plus he’d rather have a friend instead of a doctor to talk about it.

Ian really felt bad for Draco. It must have been really traumatizing for someone to go through something like that at just the age of 17. Sure, Draco wasn’t the best person at the time. Who is he kidding, he was probably the biggest git in the whole school. It didn’t necessarily mean that he had to go through what he did. He lost one of his friends in a fire, and one left him after said friend died. Another left for no apparent reason. And another wanted something different in her life. Those things affected Draco, and probably will for the rest of his life.

He didn’t pity Draco, but was feeling sympathetic. “Well if it makes you feel any better, I don’t have much friends from Ilvermorny. It sucks now, but hey, down the line you get new ones.” Ian held a fisted hand out, waiting for Draco to bump it. It made him laugh as he bumped Ian’s fist.

Outside, Ian looked out to see a certain neighbor walk to her car. “Hey, is that that chick you were talking about?” Draco looked out the window and saw you grab some things out of your trunk and into your house. “Yeah, that’s her.” Ian never really pressed on Draco to explain why he didn’t like his No-Maj neighbor like he did the elderly couple across the street.

“Well, I gotta say. She’s a sight for sore eyes for a weirdo.” She’s a what? Beyond the nightly activities he had caught you doing on occasion in your bedroom, he never really looked at your face. Or really just at you. But now that Ian mentioned something, he started studying you. She’s not so bad looking— wait, what are you thinking?

By accident, Ian snorted at the words Draco thought. “Did… did I say that out loud?” Draco asked with suspicion in his voice. “No, I’m sorry. I don’t really mean to be invading your mind or anything. It runs in my family,” Ian laughed nervously.

“It’s okay. My godfather was also good at Legilimens and Occlumency. I’m pretty sure he’s heard worse during his classes. Come on, I’ll give you a full tour of the place.”

“If the other rooms are anything like the living room, I’m sure I’ve seen the whole place then,” Ian joked.

“Piss off.” As Ian walked towards the bathroom, Draco looked back outside to see you again. He watched as you helped the Charles couple in your car and drove off to Merlin knows where.

—

The party was rather fun. It lasted until almost 1 in the morning. He thanked Ashley for handling everything and spent the night talking and laughing with his colleagues. Once everyone left, he changed into comfortable sweats and a plain black t-shirt. Out on his bedroom window was Blaise’s owl with a sealed letter. He quickly opened the window, grabbed the letter and looked out to make sure no one was watching. Your room was dark and it seemed as the drapes were down. He guided his friends’ owl with his hands to a small, make-shift owl post against the fence that separated your yards. It had food and was enchanted to be at a comfortable temperature. His owl laid on one side of the post, resting as Blaise’s owl joined it.

Draco opened the letter and read its contents to himself.

Well mate, I’m glad you’re having a good time in America. There’s not much going on here in London. I’m just working at Gringotts until something opens up at the Ministry. Not really sure what I want to do, but I’ll figure it out. Anyways, I think you’ll be pleased to hear that Theo and I are going to be joining you for the holidays. Theo got a hold of a couple American muggle films and he figured that if the women there were as fit as the actresses, then you must be living the best life and he wants to join. As for that muggle neighbor of yours, I can’t wait to see her in person. We’ll see you, Malfoy.

From the corner of his eyes, he saw lights turn on in your room and your shadow walk around before turning off once more. Sorry Blaise, but there’s no way in hell you’ll meet her.

—

Frankie’s flight was delayed, causing you to get home so late. You were extremely tired and your feet and back were sore. Usually, you’d take a bath with some salts and oils to relax yourself, but tonight you were really lazy. So lazy that you just shook your shoes off and plopped yourself on the bed.

The second you hit the mattress, you dozed off. Your mind was wandering and found yourself dreaming.

You sat in your backyard in a pretty sundress. There was a slight breeze in the air and you held a cup of coffee in your hands. Someone sat at the chair opposite you and blocked the sun’s light in your face. You looked next to you and saw your friend smiling at you.

Draco.

—

next chp

(っ◔◡◔)っ taglist: @beiahadid @malfoy-styles-wife @fivenightslaughter @juneballoon999 @leydileyla

[zenasflower]

The Best Flowers in Liverpool

With Mother’s Day around the corner, there’s no better time to surprise your mum with a gorgeous bouquet of flowers. While it can seem tempting to buy a bouquet from your local supermarket, you might be able to save a few pennies by shopping around and ordering your blooms from a florist.

Passion For Flowers

Passion For Flowers in Liverpool has a wide range of products & services to offer. They are well renowned in the Flowers business and provide excellent assistance to their customers. The employees of Passion For Flowers are trained proffessionals and have good market knowledge. They always try their best to make their customer happy & satisfied. They are available round the clock to serve you and help you out in any way possible. They are also very prompt, courteous and kind to their customers. They have a strong presence in 146 Aigburth Rd and are growing day by day. They also go for online medium to increase their customer reach.

You can order the best flowers in Liverpool from the Passion For Flowers website. They offer a range of bouquets, flower baskets and posies to suit any occasion. They also specialize in sympathy flowers and funeral arrangements. Their flowers are made by hand with great care and attention to detail.

Arta’s Flowers

Arta’s Flowers is a beautiful little shop located in the bohemian and eclectic Lark Lane, Liverpool. It was founded by Arta Llabjani, a Kosovo born woman who decided to change her career path and pursue her dreams of becoming a florist. After working in finance for 7 years and dealing with some incredibly uncertain times, she finally took the plunge and followed her heart. Her store is filled with the best quality, unique and seasonal bouquets and arrangements. It also stocks a fantastic range of potted plants and candles produced by local makers. It’s definitely worth checking out if you are in the area!

This Private Limited Company was incorporated on 14 June 2021 with the registered office address based in Liverpool, Merseyside. They have been operating for 1 year 8 months and have 1 active director(s). Their SIC code is 47760 - Retail sale of flowers, plants, seeds, fertilizers, pet animals and pet food in specialised stores.

Dovedale Florist

Dovedale Florist is a long-standing flower shop located in Liverpool that never forgets the importance of traditional personal customer service. With friendly, professional and warm staff, they are always ready to assist you with all your floristry queries.

They offer a wide range of flowers that are fit for different occasions and celebrations. They have flowers for weddings, birthdays, get well, Christmas and sympathy that will surely bring joy to the people who will receive them.

Providing top-notch service, they also offer a fast and reliable delivery of fresh flower arrangements. They are open for same-day delivery and they work hard to personally hand-deliver all their orders.

This floral shop has been a leader in the industry for more than 120 years and they are constantly adapting to the latest trends. They have a dedicated team of staff who are very knowledgeable about floral design. They are also very passionate about their craft and strive to provide the best service possible.

Booker Flowers and Gifts

If you’re looking for the best Flowers in Liverpool, then Booker Flowers and Gifts is the place to go. They’ve been around for over 30 years and have charmed thousands of customers with their gorgeous flower arrangements.

The company is a local independent florist located in Mossley Hill, delivering same day and next-day across Merseyside. They’re also a proud winner of the Innovation in Business Award from the Liverpool Chamber of Commerce, recognizing their ongoing commitment to reduce their environmental impact and make the city a greener place.

In fact, they’ve been ranked the best florist in Liverpool by Three Best Rated and have been named North West Regional Winner at the English Wedding Awards! In addition, they’ve been awarded a membership of the Good Florist Guide, which is an exclusive and rigorous evaluation process to determine which florists truly offer the best flower and floral experiences.

[tweedlydumbtweedlydoo]

Home for Christmas | Tom Holland x reader

Seasonal Prompt List + Send one in with any one on THIS list :)

Requested by: no one (aka me? lol) 

Prompts: (bolded)

3. “My flight was cancelled…I won’t be home for Christmas.”

a/n: I had this idea while reading through my prompts and I just couldn’t stop thinking about writing it for Tom Holland. I’ve only written two other stories for him, so if this sucks, well, I take constructive criticism lol 

 I hope you all enjoy! xx 

Y’all I am in LOVE with this man. He’s just the most precious thing i’ve ever seen and he’s got the most precious smile and UGHHHHHHH 

**MASTERLIST**

Requests: {OPEN} CLOSED *** ONLY FOR SEASONAL PROMPTS ***

********************************************************************************************NOT MY GIF, CREDIT TO OWNERS

You were excited to be in London with Tom’s family for Christmas this year. He’d flown out to Atlanta to film the new Spider Man movie a couple months back, leaving you alone in London. Luckily, his family were more than welcoming with making sure you weren’t alone. Inviting you over for dinner or tea, or to just hang out with the family, you’d gone on shopping sprees with his mom Nicola (Does she go by Nikki? read a few fics where she does but wasn’t sure?) You’d gone with his brothers to see movies, various little weekend trips with the family, etc etc.

Tom was grateful for his family’s love and support and making sure you weren’t alone. It made him feel better about leaving you for months on end. He hated leaving you all alone, but knew you were in good hands with his family. Especially now that he just got some bad news that would ruin the holidays for sure. 

Your phone rang beside you on the counter. You were currently in the Holland’s kitchen making cookies with his mom. “Oh it’s Tom!” You grinned, wiping the flour off your hands and quickly answering the phone. “Hey baby.” 

“Hey darling.” 

“Me and your mom are baking your favorite cookies. We all can’t wait to see you tomorrow!” 

“About that..” you heard him sigh. He ran his hand through his hair. 

You frowned and glanced over at Nicola who had stopped what she was doing when she’d seen your face, “What’s wrong?” 

You gave a small shrug to her, “What’s wrong? What is it?” 

“Love, my flight was cancelled…I uh, I won’t be home for Christmas.” His voice cracked at the end and you heard him give a quiet sniffle.

Your shoulders sagged and you felt like you’d just been delivered the worst news. Which at the time it was. You’d been looking forward to Christmas for weeks since it would be the first time you’d seen Tom since he’d left. “What?” Your voice is only above a whisper. 

“Love, what is it?” Nicola asks coming to your side. 

“Tom’s flight was cancelled.” You look at her with tears already forming, “he won’t be home for Christmas.” 

“Oh no. Can’t he get another flight?” 

You turn your attention back to Tom on the phone, “Tom, can’t you get another flight? There has to be something you can do.” 

“Darling, I’ve tried everything. Believe me. Atlanta is apparently seeing the worst blizzard in over two decades and I’m practically snowed in.” 

“But Tom it’s Christmas.. I haven’t seen you in months. We all haven’t seen you in months.” You glance at his mother who is rubbing your back soothingly. 

He sighs, “I know I know. Darling, since I won’t be home for Christmas, I’ve already sent all your gifts to my parents house.” 

You put a hand to your forehead, rubbing at the skin. “Tom I don’t want to spend Christmas without you. Nor do I want you to spend Christmas alone there. Maybe we can get a flight out there?” 

“No No. You stay there with my family, enjoy Christmas with them.”

“Oh Tom..”  

“I know, love. I am so sorry. I feel terrible.” He groans. 

“You can’t control what the weather does. It’s not your fault. You’ll hopefully be home before New Years though right?” 

“I hope so. Listen, I have to go. We’re having a meeting about filming in January.” 

“Okay, call me afterwards then?” 

“Of course. I am so sorry, y/n.” 

“Nothing you can do about it. It’s okay. I love you.” 

“I love you too.”

The two of you end the call and as soon as you do, you can’t help but burst into tears. Tom wouldn’t be home for Christmas. 

~ Christmas Morning ~ 

You’d woken up in the spare bed of his parents house alone on Christmas morning. This wasn’t how you’d pictured this morning going at all. Knowing there was a time difference, you still went ahead and sent Tom a good morning and merry Christmas text. 

Pulling yourself out of bed, you slipped on your Christmas jammies and headed downstairs. Tom’s family was already up, drinking tea and making breakfast. 

You greeted them with a good morning and Merry Christmas. Harry was the first to come to your side and give you a hug, “I’m sorry this Christmas isn’t going like you’d planned.” 

You gave a sad smile and a shrug, “I’m just glad I’m not alone and I have you guys.” You returned the hug, “Thank you so much for letting me stay for Christmas.” 

“You’re family, love. Of course we wouldn’t let you spend Christmas alone!” Nicola hands over a steaming cup of tea and gives you a hug. “I think Santa left something for you under the tree in the living room, why don’t you go check?” 

You laughed a little and shook your head, taking a sip of your tea, “You guys didn’t have to get me anything.” You headed off toward the living room, almost dropping the cup of tea. There standing in front of the tree, dressed in his matching Christmas pjs was Tom. 

“Tom..” You whisper. 

“Merry Christmas, my darling.” He smiles. 

“What--how--you’re..” You’re at a loss for words. 

He chuckles and comes over, taking the cup from your hand, “Let’s just say I’ve been on a lot of flights the last couple of days just to be here to see you on Christmas morning.” 

As soon as that cup is set down on the table, you jump into his arms, wrapping your arms and legs around him, “I can’t believe your here!” You squeal. 

“He flew in last night after you’d gone to bed. Gave us a scare, let me tell you.” His dad comments, “Thought he was an intruder!” 

He squeezes you, burying his head in your hair, “I wasn’t going to miss seeing you on Christmas. Especially when you see the other present I got you.” He sets you down and you shake your head. 

“No, you’re the only present I wanted. I don’t need anything else.” You smile, waving him off, “Nothing else can compare to you being here.” 

He glances at his family, who are anxiously waiting and smiling, “I think you’ll like this one..” He clears his throat and takes a step back from you, pulling something from his pocket. He kneels down on one knee in front of you, who is now a crying mess at the realization of what is going on. He opens the red velvet box and inside is the most beautiful diamond ring, “y/n y/L/n, my love, my darling, my forever, will you do me the honor of becoming Mrs. Tom Holland? Will you marry me?” 

You don’t even remember saying yes, but letting out a sound of happiness and engulfing him in a hug, knocking him back onto the floor with you on top of him. Everyone around you laughs, one of his brothers letting out a, “Woah save it for the honeymoon!”  His mum is crying, you’re crying. 

“Is that a yes?” He chuckles.

“Yes yes yes!” You laugh, kissing him. 

Best Christmas present ever. 

All my works tag list: @blossomreed​ , @mggstyles  , @simonsbluee​ , @thewolf-and-thesheep​ , @obxrafe , @abbiesthings​ , @itstaskeen​

[loving-daisy]

Cry For Me | George Weasley x Reader

Masterlist | Cry For Me Masterlist 

Chapter 6 - Bad Boy, You Make Me A Mad Girl 

Words: 8.9k 

Warnings: angst  

Instead of good bye, I wear an innocent smile

“Fred...hey” Y/N reluctantly greeted, slightly feeling uncomfortable under his gaze. 

As another school year has come to an end, the Hogwarts express stood at platform 9 and ¾. Students of Hogwarts came out rushing to their families, but not until expressing their farewells to the family they had in the wizarding school. 

On the way to the platform between 9 and 10, Y/N sat with Daphne and her sister, along with her cat and fairy, at one of the end compartments. The one where groups of Slytherins always occupy to avoid the storm of energetic Gryffindors with their side-kicks from the house of Helga.   

The Slytherin-Gryffindor couple already said their farewells in advance the night prior, not really expecting to bump into one another at the station as it was always packed with people. However, a certain redhead female (and the only Weasley girl currently studying in Hogwarts) pulled the girl apart from her Slytherins, bringing her to face the rest of the Weasley family. 

Right now, she found herself under the gaze of one of the twins, however, not the one she has given her heart to.  

“My friend, Icestone!” The older Weasley twin greeted with joy. “You haven’t spoken to me since what? Since…” 

“That one Quidditch match where you twins yelled at me.” Y/N completed his sentence in a teasing manner, an attempt to release the tension and awkwardness building inside her, an attempt to push whatever thought was advancing forward in her mind. 

“Hey! We apologized!” Fred argued, waving his hands in disbelief. Y/N crossed her arms, raising a brow towards him. “No, George, apologized!” She argued back. 

The boy gave a grunt, his shoulders slumping. “Truce?” He suggested, laying his hands in front of the girl. For a short moment, the Slytherin stared at it, contemplating whether or not to accept it, Fred’s personal image in her mind fueling her to decline. 

The Master mind of him and George’s pranks, the game planner, the director, the instructor, the mischief maker, and the twin who suggested to continue playing with Y/N Icestone’s heart.

Somehow, the girl couldn’t find it in her heart to reject Fred’s offering hand, even after recalling the news that had been delivered to her a few weeks prior today. Shutting the thought with force, she gave a nod, grabbing the ginger’s hand to shake. “Truce.” 

“Keep your hands off my girl, Fred!” George demanded, slapping the back of his twin’s hand as it held Y/N’s. In which the older twin gave another grunt.  

“Okay, okay! I’ll let you two have your moment. Impatient git.” Fred obliged, moving away as he muttered the last sentence under his breath, shaking his head from side to side. 

The couple now stood face to face, small and shy smiles plastered around them as they stared at each other's eyes. Before George was able to break the short silence, he was interrupted by his sister.   

“Y/N!” Ginny called, grabbing one of Y/N’s hands as she looked up to her before looking down at the bracelet she was gifted, that gives her the ability to talk to the Slytherin’s cat. “I’m going to miss you. And Lixie too.” Ginny confessed, sudden melancholy in her whole being. 

Y/N felt her stature soften, her usual confidence and overflowing charm of authority breaking down for the young girl. She slightly bent her knees to reach the young Gryffindor, wrapping her arms around her. “I’m going to miss you too.” She muttered behind the redhead, softly brushing her locks with her fingers. 

While Ginny was pressed against her figure, Y/N caught the sight of green orbs under black round glasses, burning holes at the girl in front of her. She then moved her eyes to the youngest ginger boy who gave her a shy smile, in which she returned with a small one. 

After the hug broke apart, Y/N kept her level to whisper to Ginny. “Now, if you need someone to tell your secrets to, you know...girl stuff, you know who to owl. I’ll send photographs of Lixie too.” 

Before the Slytherin was claimed by George, who desperately wanted to have their one-on-one moment, the mother of the family came in sight, querying. “Who is this?” Molly asked. 

After noticing how each passerby had their eyes glued on the girl, whispering Merlin-knows-what to whoever they were with at the moment, curiosity enveloped the woman’s mind, not really familiar with the feeling of attention. 

Y/N regained her composure, giving a small bow to Molly as she offered a small smile and her hand. “Hello, Mrs. Weasley. I’m Y/N. Y/N Icestone.” She introduced, Molly introducing herself after she shook the Slytherin’s hand. 

“Y/N Icestone? The daughter of John?” Arthur asked, sudden interest all over his eyes. Y/N nodded in response. “Yes, Mr. Weasley. I assume you know who my father is?” 

“Oh yes, dear. Very great man, he is. Greatly respected at the Ministry. Do send him my regards, will you?” 

Y/N gave the head of the Weasley family another nod. “Yes, sir.” 

“Oh, please. You can call me, Arthur.” 

“So…” Molly began, an intimidating tone in her voice that made the girl in question have shivers crawling at the back of her neck. Regardless, she projected a calm and collected self. 

“You’re not actually in love with one of my boys are you? Definitely not Ron since he’s too young for you but is it one of the twins?” Molly questioned, her hands on her waist as she shot narrowed eyes at the girl, however, a teasing smirk on the woman’s face. 

“Mum!” George groaned in embarrassment, pulling Y/N away from the rest of the Weasleys. In order for Y/N to not feel rude, she grinned at Molly, shrugging before waving her hand in goodbye.  

“Sorry about them. They’re really all over the place, gosh this is so embarrassing.” George quietly said, his eyes locked at the marble floor, hoping to hide his red face. 

“Don’t worry about it, George. It just felt so foreign but I really love their warmth.” Y/N comforted, placing her hand on top of George’s fidgeting one. 

For the nth time, before George was able to say another word, he was interrupted. This time, by Mira who came flying down in the girls face. “Y/N, your driver has arrived and is currently loading your items.” The Slytherin nodded in response, telling her to wait in the car before turning her attention back to the ginger who sighed in disappointment. 

“I guess that’s your cue.” George muttered, sadness in the tone of his voice. Y/N gave the ginger’s hand a squeeze causing him to look up at her, to which she greeted with a grin. “See you after the summer?”  

“Promise to write to me?” George asked in hesitance. The girl nodded, wrapping her arms around the boy’s neck to press their lips together, which made him feel better.  

“Promise.” Y/N reassured, bidding her last farewells before heading to her family car, to which the Greengrass sisters we’re waiting inside. 

“Explain yourself.” Daphne demanded, hands in her waist as she gave her best friend a disapproving look. 

Y/N raised a brow, crossing her arms against her chest. “What is there to explain?” 

“I’m not stupid, Icestone. I know you know about the twins’ stupid plan against you. They’re playing with you, remember? George is just playing with you! Wake up!” Daphne scolded, causing Y/N to sigh in frustration. She pressed two fingers in her right temple, massaging them as she contained her building anger. 

Silence enveloped the atmosphere of the black leather seat car, the sound of its engine being its only noise. Tension, however, was highly present in between the two Slytherins. 

After a few moments, Y/N noticed how the raven-haired girl was still giving her the same displeased look, which in turn, highly annoyed her. 

“What?” She asked coldly, trying to prevent herself from saying foul words as it was Daphne she was talking to. It was her best friend she was talking to. She has so much respect for the dark haired girl as she was one of her genuine friends. She can’t just let unfiltered words go flee in her mouth like she does with strangers who judge her. She just can’t. And so she contained herself together with her building nerves. 

“You know what.” answered Daphne in the same tone. 

Y/N, who had her eyes locked forward, gave the girl a side glare, rolling her eyes as clenched her fists. “This, Daphne, is in no way or form, your business.” She muttered, her voice full of venom. 

None of the girls inside the Icestone family service car knew that this day would be the last time they would speak to each other over the course of a few weeks. 

____________________

Summer break for Y/N was still the way it was before. She would be woken up every morning by her fairy, who hands in her breakfast, then would be forced into the morning tub for a nice but short bath. From Monday to Friday, she’d be force to have at least 1 advance study lesson with her tutor, Mr. Princeton, and 1 activity such as painting, playing a variety of instruments, or a physical activity. Her favorite was riding a horse. By 4 PM, she’d be free to do whatever she pleases. In Y/N Icestone’s case, it was reading. 

Everything was just the way it is except for one tiny thing. Letters. She still received letters, but not from the usual raven-haired girl, to which if Y/N was completely honest, disappointing. However, she was the reason for their petty fight anyways but being someone who is prideful, she dared not to send the first one. But to make up for it, fortunately for her, there was a certain ginger, who owled her almost everyday. It was bitter but sweet. At least she had George. 

Dear Y/N, 

How have you been? I didn’t want to admit this but I really miss you. 

Mum has been nagging me and Fred lately. Scolding us for not taking a lot of O.W.L.S and for working on our products for Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes. Recently, she confiscated our order forms with our toffees. I feel really bummed out. You know me and Fred have been working on those for a long time, right? I just wished she supported us a little more… 

On the bright side, dad has scored us some tickets for the upcoming Quidditch World Cup. Are you perhaps going to be in attendance? It would be really great to receive one of your warm hugs right now. You know...the ones where you nuzzle your face in my neck or vice versa. I really wish you were here with me. 

I can’t wait to see you. 

Love, 

The most good-looking bloke, who has an identical twin (reckon this wizard who sends you this letter is more good-looking though), and the tall awesome wicked Gryffindor ginger who loves Y/N Icestone with all his heart, George. 

The receiving end of the letter, which was messily written in an old looking piece of parchment, was currently seated in her study, a room inside her personal quarters, that had a huge desk in the middle. This letter she received was her favorite yet. It was sent a week ago and yet she read it over and over again, the same fluttering feeling in her heart every time, as she grinned from ear to ear. 

Her moment, unfortunately, was ruined when her pet Siamese cat entered the room quietly, jumping on her desk to block the girl’s sight of the letter. 

“Are you honestly still with that pathetic boy?” Lixie asked, a scolding tone in his voice. 

Y/N huffed in annoyance. “He’s not pathetic! Whatever you heard that day, none of it was true! He would never do that to me.” She defended, keeping the letter in one of the drawers under her desk. 

“How do you know what's fake and true then? Listen, Y/N. We’re only trying to protect you. Me and Mira heard it with our own ears! We saw them with our own eyes! They’re playing with you, Y/N. He’s gonna break your heart!” the cat reasoned, concerned yet angry at the girl. 

“Oh, c’mon, Felix. Do you really think that the Weasley twins would go to such an extent just to satisfy their pranking needs?” Y/N argued, blinded of her cat’s reality, all because of her fondness for ginger. 

Felix. Y/N called her cat with his full name, something that she doesn’t do often unless she’s crossed. She must be enraged. Furious, even. 

“Yes.” answered Lixie, earning a loud groan from the girl. 

Y/N leaned back at her big black leather chair, eyes planted on the ceiling as she breathed in and out. “You must be out of your mind.” She muttered in disbelief, shaking her head from left to right.. 

“No, you are out of your mind!” Lixie exclaimed. “I can not believe that you agreed to be actually one of those git’s girlfriend. For Merlin’s sake, Y/N, you are an Icestone! A Slytherin! And he’s just...George.” 

Y/N’s heart felt like it was being pricked by a thousand needles. It was as if one of her heart strings broke. She knew about how her social status compared to George was way, way, different and she didn’t give no care about it. She just hated the way others would judge the Gryffindor based on his status when they all should look past those and actually appreciate who he is. George Weasley, who has a bright personality and a big kind heart. 

“He might be ‘just George’ for you but to me, he’s more than that. He’s actually a great person if you get to know him more.” Y/N defended once again. 

“What makes you think that you know him?” 

“Because I really do!” She scowled. Right now, she was really feeling the stress and anger build up. After the cat delivered the news at the hallway, Y/N didn’t know what to believe in. She was confused like a lost puppy. At first, she was skeptical, thinking that Lixie and Mira might have misheard the twins but when it became the night, Y/N couldn’t help but think about it. She trusted George, yes, but right now she was having doubts. It was like she was in a carousel, spinning round and round.  

“No. You. Don’t.” Lixie stated. Highlighting each word with stern as he spoke. 

“You didn’t even know them when they played their stupid prank on you. You didn’t even know them before you met them even if they were already so popular all around school. You don’t know what they’re capable of, Y/N.” He reasoned. 

The girl closed her eyes, her icy eyes melting but shielded from falling away. She remained silent. Unable to utter another word to defend herself and her relationship with the boy. “Save yourself from the heartbreak, Y/N. You must end this.” 

Save yourself from the heartbreak. The girl scoffed at the thought. One way or another, whatever path she chooses with the ginger boy, her heart would still break. Somehow that’s always her end game. She always loses. She always gets her heart broken. 

Suddenly, a woman, who was wearing an emerald dress that was long enough to cover her ankles, opened the door to Y/N’s study. Which was peculiar, because Y/N Icestone’s mother tended to ask Mira to call her instead. 

“Y/N dear, come down. We have visitors.” Her mother ordered, immediately closing her door once she finished her words. Clearly not bothering to spare a glance at her daughter’s defeated state who still had her eyes closed. 

The Icestone heir made her way outside her main room and to the body mirror displayed outside her closet. She straightened the black dress she was wearing before heading out her quarters to greet the unknown guests. 

“They’re here? It’s today?” Lixie asked Mira, keeping his voice low in case that the girl was still an earshot away. Mira, who had an apologetic look on her face, only gave the cat a small nod. 

In one of the Icestone manor’s living rooms for highly appreciated guests, stood John Icestone, Aurelia Icestone, and Y/N Icestone. Side by side they waited for whoever was visiting to be escorted inside. The feigned the kind and innocent smile that she usually gives. The one she was educated and practiced to do ever since she was a little witch, due to her father’s role in the Ministry of Magic. 

Her smile, however, faded into a thin line when the guests entered but she quickly regained her composure as she welcomed the powerful pureblood family who was represented by the words Sanctimonia Vincet Semper. Purity will always conquer.

“Mr. Malfoy, Mrs. Malfoy, and Draco.” Y/N greeted one by one, shaking the hands of the Malfoy family.

____________________

Y/N slumped at the chair behind her desk, tired and completely drained from today’s events. For a few moments she stared at her white ceiling, her thoughts running 9.8 meters per second squared as she was free falling into the depths of despair. Right now, all she wanted to do was cry in George Weasley’s warm embrace but she can’t. She can’t even cry. She can’t because she had none left. She was empty. 

In hopes to distract herself from her own misery, she looked over her wide mahogany desk that was disheveled. Books were piling up at a corner, empty rolls of parchment scattered all over, and just some random knick knacks. The headline of yesterday’s Evening Prophet caught her attention, her eyes widening as shock creeped all over her body.

SCENES OF TERROR AT THE QUIDDITCH WORLD CUP

Almost immediately, she grabbed a piece of parchment, scribbling a note of concern, before asking her fairy to have it delivered by the Icestone family owl. 

I heard about what happened last night. Please tell me you’re not hurt. Deliver me news that not a single one of you is hurt. Just tell me, if you came home safe and in one piece. Please. As soon as you read this letter. I’m really worried about you. 

Y/N 

The morning after, Y/N laid on her bed, eyes wide open as she stared at the ceiling, even after minutes since her fairy delivered her breakfast on the bedside table. She didn’t have the courage nor the energy to face whatever challenge is going to be handed down upon her today. Yesterday’s battle was ruthless. She was defeated. And she still hasn’t recovered. 

She sighed, turning to her side as she stared at the bowl of strawberries Mira left. Immediately sitting up after eyeing a small roll of old parchment she was familiar with. 

Y/N, 

It’s George. I’m fine. Everyone is fine, just a bit shaken up. Good thing no one got hurt. 

Please don’t worry about me, love. Hopefully this weekend turns out nicer, yeah? 

We’ll see each other this Monday. Can’t wait to see you. 

George 

Y/N felt a relief envelope all over her body, sighing in contentment. 

____________________

Fortunately for the Icestone, Monday came quickly. Ever since the Malfoy’s visited the Icestone manor, her mind has become a blur. Her summer has become a blur. She can’t even remember the good times she spent. 

Somehow, no matter how hard she tries to push the happy thoughts in front of her head, the memory of the events and words spoken towards her remain superior. And so, she was just glad that she was back. She was grateful that she was away. At least for now.  

Y/N Icestone was seated somewhere around the Slytherin table, her chin rested on a palm as she waited. As usual, she was alone. I mean, she was surrounded by other people but she was lonely. She was quiet, only talking to herself for once in a while but only to come back staring into the space. 

The students of Hogwarts were seated at their assigned house tables, waiting for the feast to be served. All were happy, excited, and just grateful to have another year in the wizarding school. Groups of friends were chit chatting with one another, talking about how their summer was spent and how much they were looking forward to this year. The hall was greatly filled with noise from all over the place. 

It was not until the headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, ordered the hall some silence. Announcing how an important event is to be hosted by Hogwarts this year. The Triwizard Tournament. Where one champion from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Durmstrang Institute, and Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, will compete in three different tasks to win the cup. 

“Great. And here I thought that I’ll have a quiet year.” Y/N muttered under her breath, rolling her eyes.

“I know right.” muttered a voice, making her turn towards where it came from. 

“Daph- Daphne.” Y/N stuttered. “You’re here.” She said.

The raven-haired girl gave her a small shrug, a small smile displayed on her face. “Oh yeah, I am. It’s not like I can skip a grade or anything. They’d disown me!” She sarcastically said, obviously joking, to diffuse the tension. However, Y/N slightly felt uncomfortable, suddenly recalling the events at the Icestone service car during the 1st day of summer break. But Y/N held her head high, gaining the courage and confidence to speak further. 

“Look...about that day…” She began. Daphne blinked at her twice, slightly tilting her head to the side as confusion flooded her mind. “What about that day?” Daphne asked. 

“I’m...sorry for snapping at you. I was frustrated, lost, and just...heartbroken. I didn’t know what to believe, who to believe, and I just felt so lonely again. I knew you were always there to look out for me but I was happy that besides you, there was another, who didn’t have other intentions with me. I guess that’s what I thought.” 

“The summer...it was awful. I didn’t have anyone to tell my deepest secrets to, I didn’t have anyone to hangout with in the pool, I didn’t have you. And I miss you. I really do. My actions...were not thought properly and now I’m faced with its consequences. But then again, I was taught to never get stuck in the past and move forward. Being Y/N Icestone, you know I don’t finish what I have started so right now, I’m going to swallow my pride and make amends. So sincerely, I apologize to you, Daphne. For doing you wrong. If you could ever find it in your heart to forgive me, I would be really grateful. If not...then...I’ll work harder for it.�� Y/N said, her voice being an outlet of what's in her heart and on her mind, never faltering as she apologized to her best friend. 

Daphne rolled her eyes in disbelief. “Icestone, honestly?” She began. 

“I thought you know how I don’t even hold grudges too long. If you would have sent me an owl during the summers, I would have replied before you could even say ‘quidditch’. Besides, I can’t lose someone like you. You’re my best friend. So yes, you’re forgiven. Now...you better not have plans tonight because you and I are going to hang in your quarters and tell each other how our summer has been.” 

Y/N agreed. “Of course, I’d love that!” 

And so, the two Slytherin best friends pulled each other into a tight hug, wide smiles in their faces as they finally made up. Y/N felt as if a weight had been lifted in her shoulders, her heart being filled with warmth at the missed presence of the raven-haired girl. 

Abruptly, most of the crowd situated in the hall belted out disagreeing statements and a series of “boos”, making the two pull away and turn their attention around their surroundings. 

“That’s rubbish! That’s rubbish, I tell ya!” Y/N particularly heard a familiar voice from the house of Gryffindor. 

“What did they say?” Daphne asked the boy beside her. 

“Underage wizards can’t participate in the Triwizard tournament. You must be seventeen and above to enter.” He briefly stated, turning his attention back to the headmaster. 

Y/N’s eye caught George’s from the Gryffindor table who gave her a wink, pointing to himself and Fred then to the front where Dumbledore stood. A smirk plastered around Y/N’s face, a thought crossing her mind. Of course. With George being George and Fred being Fred and the both of them being twins, it’s obvious that they’d do something as stupid like joining the tournament. 

The Slytherin scoffed at the thought. Wouldn’t be surprised if they actually cook up a potion tomorrow morning. 

____________________

Later that evening, through owl, Y/N and George agreed to not meet each other at their usual hideout for the reason that the Slytherin just made up with her best friend and would like to spend the night doing hot girl shit, and for the reason that the Gryffindor will try to manage a mischief him and his twin are planning that involves joining the announced school event. 

As much as the two wanted to spend time together, they thought that a day wouldn’t hurt as they had the rest of the year and maybe the next 2 years or so together. At least that’s what they thought. But both parties agreed to make up for it the next day anyways. 

“What’s with the face, Icestone?” Daphne asked as she brushed her hair, eyeing her best friend from the mirror, who was simply seated at her bed and staring into space. Again. 

Y/N parted with her thoughts as the raven-haired girl spoke. “What? What’s wrong with being pretty?” She conceitedly asked, huffing, to which Daphne paid no attention to. 

Daphne had a reluctant look on her face, debating within her head whether or not to bring up the subject and the cause of their misunderstanding at the start of summer break. She decided to go for it. “You..looked so troubled. Erm...did you…” 

“No, I haven’t.” Y/N answered immediately, knowing exactly what her best friend was about to ask. She sighed in frustration, a couple of thoughts re-entering her mind. 

“Oh.” 

Y/N sat up straight, shaking her head. “But that’s not what I was thinking about. In fact, over the course of the summer, my problems have been piling up and I can’t seem to solve at least one!” She exclaimed, her hands waving in the air. 

Daphne dropped the brush on top of the dresser, moving to sit next to the Icestone heir. “What? Your Arithmancy problems? I thought you had a tutor…” 

“No, not my arithmancy problems! My life problems!” Y/N left out a frustrated sigh, getting overwhelmed by her ocean of feelings. 

“What happened?” Daphne asked, concerned. 

“The Malfoys…” Y/N began, which made Daphne’s eyes go narrow, a feeling that her best friend was having conflict within herself because of the mentioned family. “Well...they visited the manor one day.” She said, her voice quiet, her voice shaking. 

“And?” Urged Daphne, clutching the girl’s hand and squeezing it. 

Y/N Icestone looked as if she was about to burst into tears.  

____________________

“What’s with the hair, Weasleys? Too poor to get a haircut?” Fred and George heard from behind, immediately recognizing the sour and annoying voice that belonged to a certain blonde Slytherin boy. 

The twins turned their attention to Draco and his goons, both crossing their arms and feigning disgust. “Do you smell that, Fred?” George mocked, covering his nose. 

“Oh that’s bad, mate.” Fred mirrored his actions before turning towards the Slytherin. “Do us a favor, Malfoy and don’t open your mouth again. It stinks!” 

George grinned in his mind. Proud to have applied what he learned from his girlfriend. 

The scowling look on Draco’s face deepened, as well as Crabbe and Goyle who had their arms crossed. 

“How dare you! Is that the best threat you got? Should I be scared now?” 

Fred and George both shrugged. 

“You better be.” George stated, followed by Fred. “Because there is no way we’re going to hesitate in making your life more miserable than it already is.” 

“Actually, Weasel bee, it’s YOU who have to be scared.” Draco suggested, an evil smirk on his face and a finger pointing at George’s face. “You don’t actually think that you and your identically git-like twin are the only ones who know about your secret, huh?” 

“What-” 

The blonde Slytherin let out an airy laugh, his thumb playing with the ring around his index finger. “Planning to make Y/N Icestone fall in love with you and break her heart in the end? Dangerous game that you started, Weatherby.”

George felt a million strings of guilt and worry creep around his body. His heart felt like it was dropped on a 40 feet cliff. He stood frozen as if a bucket of ice-cold water was splashed towards him. His mouth felt dry, unable to speak as if a snake had wrapped around his neck. Maybe there was a snake. Figuratively. 

Fortunately for the slightly taller ginger, the older twin was quick to defend his brother by threatening the young Slytherin. “If you ever open that filthy mouth of yours, you’ll- Where do you think you’re going?! We’re not done here!” 

Draco’s retreating figure looks over his shoulders, shrugging before giving the twins a malicious wink.

____________________

“Is everything alright, Icestone?” A young female bushy-haired Gryffindor asked as she sat next to the 6th year Slytherin, who was looking so exhausted and unlively. 

The next morning, Y/N Icestone found herself seated at the Great hall. The house tables were put aside, leaving a big space in the center in which the Goblet of Fire was located. To those who wanted to try their luck and enter the tournament, they were to place their name and which school they were from in a piece of parchment then drop it at the goblet. The goblet chooses the three champions who will participate. 

The Slytherin gave the girl a blank loo, shrugging as she waited for her fairy to fetch her food. “Yeah...all will be fine eventually. Why’d you ask, Granger?”

Over the course of the last few months of last school year, whenever Ginny would ask Y/N for her support in studies, social life, or whatever it is, Hermione would tag along, making the three develop a small friendship. Y/N was one of Hermione’s girl friends as she either spends her time at the library or hanging with Harry and Ron.  

“Nothing. It’s just that...you looked so deep in thought.” pointed Hermione as she opened the thick book she was holding after slightly getting uncomfortable under Y/N stare. 

“Just...tired.” The Slytherin reasoned, shrugging. 

A few moments after Mira came back with Daphne, students situated in the hall bursted into loud cheers as the notorious Weasley twins entered with a vial in hand. 

“Cooked it up just this morning.” The Slytherin heard Fred announce, making her to mentally slap her forehead and huff, visibly crossing her arms in disapproval. I knew it. 

“What do you think they’re doing?” Daphne asked, stuffing a muffin in her mouth. “Dumb stuff.” Y/N answered. 

“It’s not going to work~” Hermione sang as she clutched her book shut, an unamused look plastered all around her face as she raised a brow towards the twins. 

The twins moved towards the girl’s side with a teasing smile plastered around their faces, “Oh yeah? And why is that Granger?” George asked. 

“You see this? This is an age line. Dumbledore drew it himself. I don’t think anyone under seventeen will stand a chance.” Hermione confidently said, crossing her arms. 

“Dear, dear, Granger. You see this?” stated Fred as he lifted his hand to show the small vial of liquid. 

“Obviously.” 

“This is an Aging potion.” George informed. 

“Do you really think that potion of yours is able to fool a genius such as Dumbledore himself?” 

“Yes.” The twins synchronously answered, blinking at the same time.

The girl let out an annoyed groan. “If you’re so confident, let's see then.” 

Fred put an arm around Hermione’s shoulder, squeezing her. “Have some faith in us, Granger. After all, one of us will be winning the cup by then.” 

The twins made their way towards a bench, both shaking their vials before popping it open. 

“Ready, Fred?” “Ready, George.” 

“Bottoms up.” 

The tall gingers jumped in Dumbledore’s age line, pumping their firsts up high when they saw no visible consequences. The crowd cheered with them, chanting “Fred and George! Fred and George!” 

Together, they dropped their piece of parchment in the Goblet of Fire, a contented and proud grin on their faces before the goblet roared and sent them flying across the hall. The crowd gasped then immediately bursted into laughter after seeing how the twins were ginger no more and had white beards spurted on their faces. 

Daphne tried to contain her laughter, nudging Y/N at the side. “THAT is your boyfriend? You really didn’t lie when you said they were doing dumb stuff.” She uttered, shaking her head. Y/N only gave her a knowing smirk, shrugging before grabbing her cup of morning tea. 

The hall suddenly muted itself as Viktor Krum from Durmstrang Institute entered, dropping his name at the goblet. He caught the eye of Hermione, who suddenly turned red, then landed his eyes towards Y/N Icestone and Daphne Greengrass, who both gave him a small wave. 

“You know who Viktor Krum is?” recovered from her flustered self, Hermione came back to her curious ways. Y/N gave her a nod. “Yeah...everyone knows who he is. He’s the seeker of the Bulgarian Quidditch team, isn’t he?” She answered. 

“Yeah...but like...do you know him personally?” 

“Oh she knows him, alright.” Daphne remarked, smirking. 

The Gryffindor continued to give Y/N a confused look, waiting for her to expound further. Y/N raised a brow, sighing in defeat before elbowing Daphne’s chuckling self. 

“It’s not what you think it is, Hermione. You see, my family has a lot of connections. Viktor is an acquaintance.” Y/N clarified. “Why are you asking anyways? Are you perhaps interested in him?”

“No!” Hermione defended, her cheeks back to a shade of pink. She moved closer to Y/N’s ears, whispering quietly. “I was hoping you could pull some strings and ask for his autograph? Ron is a big fan.” 

The Slytherin let out a small laugh. “Now I know who you’re actually interested in.” She teased. 

Suddenly, Y/N felt a small tap at her shoulder. She gave a glance, only to see George and Fred, who looked way, way, older. She gave a raised brow, crossing her arms against her chest. Daphne was trying not to laugh, again. 

George had a sheepish look as he faced Y/N, who was trying to suppress the upward curving of her lips. “Hi” He quietly greeted, slightly feeling embarrassed. 

Y/N shook her head, standing up to head towards the entrance of the Great hall. “Come on, you two. Let’s get you back into your normal forms.” 

____________________

“This won’t turn us into cats, right Icestone?” Fred questioned, examining the goblet in his hands. 

“I don’t need potions to turn you dimwits into cats.” Y/N declared, handing George his own goblet full of antidote that reverses the anti-aging potion the twins took. 

“Thanks, love. I don’t know what I would do without you.” The younger twin commented, pressing his lips on the girl’s forehead as he grabbed the goblet. Y/N only gave a small hum, a thousand thoughts coming back to flood her mind. 

As the twins’ face turned into unpleasant looks due to the foul taste of the antidote, Y/N stood by the door, arms crossed as both complained at the taste. “You wouldn’t have that foul liquid sliding down your throats if you didn’t drink that stupid aging potion.” she remarked, getting a “it’s not stupid! It was marvelous!” from Fred. 

After the two turned back to their normal looks, Fred immediately pulled the Slytherin into a short hug, muttering “thanks” before making a beeline towards the exit of the Room of Requirement, leaving the couple alone. 

George put his hands in his jeans pocket, leaning at a table. “What’d you say we hang out by the lake later? You know...catch up a little. I miss you. Let’s skip supper? Unless you’re hungry, love. We could sneak into the kitchens and ask for the house elves to -“ 

Y/N put an index finger above George’s lips, shushing him. “I’m sorry, George.” She apologized, giving him a sympathetic look. “I love the thought of spending time with you, but I’m afraid I have to decline the offer.” 

The ginger’s face fell, placing his hands at the sides of Y/N’s face. “But -“ 

“I have plans with Daphne.” She reasoned, completely lying in front of George, who was pouting. She leaned in one of George’s hands before leaning in to give him a quick peck, much to George’s dismay.  

“Fine.” George muttered before groaning. “See you in potions tomorrow?”  

“Of course.”

____________________

“First week of school and that Snape already gave homework.” George complained, resting his forehead on the desk library he and Y/N occupied. 

“That’s professor Snape to you, George.” Y/N scolded, turning her potions book. 

George gave a loud grunt. “Whatever. You only favor him because you’re a Slytherin yourself and that he favors your house too much.” He mumbled, turning his head to the side to examine the girl. 

Y/N raised a brow towards him, her chin resting on her palm. “Well, that’s because he’s head of the house. And you know how I love potions. If you actually read your textbook and listen to his classes, you’d actually learn something.” She said, earning a snort from George.

“Like what? Bewitch the mind, ensnare the senses?” He asked, mocking the tone of the potions master’s voice. 

Y/N nodded. “Yes, to bottle fame, brew glory,”

“and even put a stopper to death!” They simultaneously said, bursting into fits of laughter after making fun of Snape’s yearly speech to the new students of Hogwarts. It was when Madam Pince let out a loud cough that made them shush themselves. 

“So you do listen…” The Slytherin commented, amusement in her voice. 

George displayed a wide grin on his face. “In the first half of my first classes with him in first year, yeah. The rest...well...I just slide. I Slyther in.” 

“HAHA very funny.” Y/N monotonously said. 

Their atmosphere was enveloped in silence as the couple stared at each other’s eyes. Y/N examined the ginger, counting the freckles on his face that looked like stars in the night sky, admiring his honey skin illuminated by the lamp placed on their desk, and getting lost at his bright eyes. 

She was grateful for having someone like George. Someone that looked past her name and treated her like a normal girl. 

Unpleasant thoughts came back rushing in her mind. Worries, doubts, and distress majorly creeping into her feelings. 

She was worried. Worried of her future, with George, with other Slytherin families, and simply just being Y/N Icestone 

She had her doubts. She was doubting herself, doubting if she was the main cause and reason why the twins decided to play a heart-breaking prank against her, doubting if she was truly loved by George, and doubting if she was worthy of receiving love from anyone. 

She was distressed. Distressed from her worries and doubts, all caused by George Weasley, her boyfriend, the boy she gave her love to. 

Shaking the thoughts away, she gently reached for the ginger’s hair, caressing it softly which made George flustered. “Your hair...has gotten very long.” She pointed out.

“Oh...yeah.” George mumbled, nodding. He suddenly felt conscious under the girl’s observant stare. “It did get very long during the summers so I had it trimmed.” 

“But your hair still looks like what you had last year, which was long too.” 

“I like it being long. It looks cool, like my brother, Bill. You have to meet him. He’s actually a Gringotts charm breaker.” said George. “Why? Does it not suit me?” 

The Slytherin gave him a small smile. “I never said anything about not liking it nor you not suiting it. I was just wondering why...doesn’t it get hot?” She questioned.

“I like it being long because I love it when you brush your fingers against my hair. Like what you’re doing right now.” 

Y/N’s hand retreated much to George’s dismay. She sat up, crossing her arms against her chest. “Well, you’ve been struggling in focusing on your essay without your hair covering your eyes.” 

George sat up as well, shrugging as he did so. “Oh but that’s alright. Because having long hair covers my face. I get to look at my seatmate’s paper without the teacher notici- ow! What was that for?” He complained, rubbing his hand in his stinging arm after getting hit by the girl beside him. 

“I’m your seatmate in potions.” Y/N replied, unamused by the ginger’s antics. 

The Gryffindor only blinked, completely not getting what Y/N was trying to point out. “Okay, and?” 

“I will NOT let you copy my work!” She vocalized causing George to slump his shoulders and let out a grunt. “Why not? I thought you liked me?” 

Y/N nodded, grabbing her black hair tie from her robes pocket. “I do. And because I do…” The girl reached George’s ginger locks, gathering them together in one hand to tie it into a ponytail. George felt the pace of his heartbeat quickened. She combed his hair with her fingers, putting them in place, before wrapping the tie once, twice, and thrice, to keep it together. 

“...I’m going to help you study for it, with the first step of keeping your hair away from yours eyes.” She continued, a proud look on her face after seeing her boyfriend’s hair in place. He looked more neat and more handsome, his jawline being showcased. 

The boy was slightly embarrassed, not used to having his hair tied up. “But I hate potions…” George murmured. 

“Oh think about it, George. Knowledge in potions will help you make more Weasley products!” The Slytherin urged, finally turning her attention back to the laid out work in front of her.  

“You’re right! You’re so smart, love. That’s one of the reasons why I love you.” George claimed, finally facing his own series of potions work as well. 

I love you. Y/N didn’t know if she was going to believe what just came out of her boyfriend’s mouth. Nevertheless, her heart skipped a beat. 

____________________

“Please tell me you have a plan. You can’t just let him play you like you’re some kind of toy!” Daphne advised as she softly caressed Lixie’s sleeping figure. 

“That’s the thing, Daphne. I don’t even know if he’s still playing. I mean, he told me he loved me for a couple of times now. I don’t know if I should believe him but he really does seem so sincere with it.” Y/N pointed out, placing her hands on her waist as she stopped from her pacing.

“Maybe you should confront him about it.” Daphne suggested. 

“No!” 

“Why not?” 

“Because I know that he’ll lie in front of my face. He does it like a pro, believe me. You know how I hate being lied to.” Y/N muttered, sighing in defeat. “I hate this. I’m giving him until tomorrow to tell me. I’m going to give him hints to make him have an idea how I know. If he doesn’t confess to me by then, I’m going to have to resort to my plan.”  

____________________

After Y/N’s conversation with the raven-haired girl, she sneaked her way out the dungeons to meet George at the Astronomy tower. “Y/N You’re here.” He greeted with open arms, Y/N complying to wrap herself in his warm embrace. 

“Yeah...can’t sleep.” She mumbled. 

The couple pulled away, making their way towards their usual spot to sit down. “Why is that?” George questioned, concern laced in his voice. 

“Something has been bothering me lately.” Y/N informed. “A lot happened during the summers. Family gatherings, my father’s important events, and my mom’s own set of tea parties. Which meant me meeting blokes who tried to earn my favor.” She ranted, half lying, half telling the truth. 

“People with their bad intentions... Make me sick.” Y/N added before slipping her glass of chocolate milk. She met George’s staring eyes, giving him a small smile. “I’m glad that you’re not one of them.” She remarked. 

The familiar pang of guilt flooded in the boy’s mind, his chest hurting as if a million of needles were pricking it. George remained quiet as a series of thoughts flooded his mind. 

First, did Y/N Icestone finally find out about how him and Fred were initially planning to break her heart? 

Second, if she did know, who told her? Was it Mira? Was it Lixie? Or was it Draco Malfoy? 

Third, if she knew, why isn’t she confronting me about it? Didn’t she usually get straight to the point with other people? 

Fourth, is she waiting for me to say something to her? Does she want me to be the one who confesses it? 

Fifth, but if I do confess it, what would her reaction be? Would she break up with me? Or would she let it go and forgive me? 

Sixth, if I confess to her, she would never forgive me. That is certain. I know how her head works. 

Seventh, if she wouldn’t forgive me, I could make it up to her...but how? 

Eighth, what if she breaks up with me? What will happen to me? I know for sure that she’ll pull strings from her Icestone name to seek revenge. I don’t want my family to be involved. 

Ninth, this is stupid. Y/N would never use her Icestone power to hurt me. She’s kinder than you think. 

Tenth, now this really is getting stupid. George Weasley, you’re overthinking. She probably doesn’t know and will never know so that’s that. Besides, she fancies you. Nothing could go wrong. Right? 

Y/N took a notice of George’s behavior, feigning a look of concern. “Are you...okay?” She questioned, placing a hand in the boy’s cheeks. 

“I’m fine.” He said, leaning in Y/N’s touch. “Just thinking of ways on how I could kick whoever bothered you.” He added. 

Y/N gave him a smirk. “Even if that someone is you?” She phrased out, catching George off guard. 

“Did I do something?” George questioned, getting a shrug from the Slytherin as a response. 

“Huh?” Y/N feigned confusion. “Is there something I should know?” 

Relief spread through George’s mind. “Besides that I fancy you like crazy? None.” 

____________________

“I have a feeling that somebody gave her hints about our previous plan.” Fred suggested, thinking deeply of different possibilities.

“Do you think it was Malfoy?” George asked, concerned and a nervous look plastered around his face. 

Fred briefly nodded. “Possibly. But I think that you should be the one to tell her. You have to tell her today otherwise you can say bye-bye to your precious relationship”

____________________

“So?” Daphne asked, curious of last night's events. 

Y/N let out a groan. “Nothing. But I have a feeling that he caught the message. He only has today. He should really let it out or else I won’t hesitate.” She threatened, anger boiling inside of her. 

____________________

“You got everything you need? You didn’t forget anything?” George asked as he handed Y/N her bag after walking her to Professor Trelawney’s Divination class, which was located at a very high tower. 

The Slytherin gave him a smile, pulling him for a hug. “None. Thanks for walking me here.” She muttered against the ginger’s chest, making the boy grin. 

While the Gryffindor had the girl wrapped in his hug, he started to overthink about everything again. The beat of his heart quickened due to nervousness and uncertainty. 

As they pulled away, Y/N gave the boy a quick peck on the lips before making her way towards the entrance to Trelawney’s classroom, her pace slow in hopes of George calling her back. To which he did. 

“Yes?” Y/N asked, glancing over her shoulder. 

George looked like he wanted to say something.

“Something troubling you? Do you want to talk about it?” The girl suggested, moving back to stand in front and under the tall ginger’s worried gaze. When the boy remained silent, Y/N narrowed her eyes towards him as she crossed her arms against her chest. “George? Are you feeling alright? I’m...starting to get worried.” 

George gave Y/N a grin. “See you later? The usual?” He asked, insisting rather to himself to just tell her later at the Astronomy tower. 

Y/N didn’t bulge, the look on her face not faltering. “Are you sure you don’t have anything else to say to me, George?” She crossed-examine. George felt cold sweat dripping at the back of his neck, his heart beat faster than before. 

“You’re pretty?” George quietly muttered, the uncertain look coming back on his face. 

The Slytherin decided to give up, planning to try again later at the Astronomy tower. She feigned a smile, nodding in agreement to what her boyfriend just mumbled out. “Damn right I am.” She responded, a knowing smirk on her face, making George groan. 

“I said petty.” He vocalized before giving the girl a kiss on the forehead and walking away. 

“Are you happy?” Y/N suddenly asked, making the boy stop in his tracks. “Does this make you happy, George?” 

He looked at her, giving her a wink. “Anywhere with you makes me happy, Y/N.” 

When the ginger was finally out of sight, the Slytherin groaned in frustration, entering the classroom to hastily sit beside Daphne, who was giving her a sympathetic look. 

____________________

15 minutes past four hours after midnight with Y/N Icestone laying on her bed beside a snoring Siamese cat, wide awake as she stares at the ceiling with her head full of thoughts. Even after countless times of being put in an identical situation, somehow, she never got used to it. As the night shuts down and the sky becomes dark, that time is her greatest fight. Her head, her thoughts, herself, her own enemy. 

Usually, she would heave out a frustrated sigh and sneak to see the stars in the Astronomy tower and after her midnight escapades, she’d feel tired from the swellness of her eyes and fall into a slumber. However, she already did this method earlier but coming back from the tower tonight did not let her rest. In fact, she was even more bothered. He knows I know but didn’t even say something about it. Not even a word. Not even an apology.

Y/N turned to her side, caressing Lixie’s small head before giving it a small kiss and sitting up. Turning her eyes to her bedside table, she grabbed a vacant parchment and her wand to illuminate the dark room. With her quill, she started to doodle the interior of the astronomy tower with herself and a certain Gryffindor ginger seated on the floor beside each other. Above them were the beautiful night sky enveloped with billions of shining stars as well as the moon. She smiled to herself. 

“I’m gonna make you miss me.” She muttered, drawing horns on the side of the boy’s head. 

“I’m gonna make you so mad.” She continued, this time drawing a devil’s tail on the boy. 

“I’m gonna make sure that I’m the best you ever had.” 

For a few moments, the girl stared at the parchment, admiring her work of art as she tried to silence herself. She breathed in, and breathed out before crumpling the drawing and furiously wiping her fallen tears. She commanded her wand to turn the light off before draping her thick blanket above her head. 

Y/N Icestone always had a heart. A heart that treasures four-legged furry animals that purrs when they’re delighted and hisses when they have been wronged. A heart that aches to see innocent first years getting bullied by the students from her house. A heart that beats rapidly for the younger individual of the prominent Gryffindor ginger twins, who goes by the name George Weasley. 

Y/N Icestone. Always being labeled for having a stone cold ice as a heart when what she had was warm, pure, and strong. Y/N Icestone, who most people thought had no heart, just got her heart taken, thrown away, and smashed broken.

End of Chapter 6

____________________

Tag list:  @abrunettefangirlnerd​ @gloryekaterina​ @lilypad-55449​ @memekingofwwiii​

Author’s note: Enjoy ;)

[secret-rendezvous1d]

Blogmas having the miss announcing she is pregnant on christmas to P and H?

Hello, hi! 

Welcome to Blogmas 2020.

Many more blurbs, many more chats and a lot more festivities to come; my inbox will be open all through December this year for blurb prompts for Blogmas so don’t feel afraid to pop in a prompt to get written for tis year; all I can say is that if you’re asking for a lengthy prompt, I’m not the right person right now, haha.

I’m welcoming absolutely anything for this year; any AU, any characters, any ideas.

Reblog, like, comment and share your thoughts with me. Please let me know what you think because feedback is always appreciated on here; much more appreciated now given that I’ve not written a lot in a long while. Please let me know what you think.

Enjoy!

DECEMBER, 2022.

YN was no stranger to a positive pregnancy test.

If you told her six years ago that she’d be a mother to a little girl the following year, who was the spitting image of her father, then she’d have told you that you were taking the piss and that they were dreaming all kinds of madness. So, if you told her three days ago that she’d be a mother to a second baby, she’d have laughed in your face and told you to jog on because “one’s enough for me right now.”

Of course, she’d grown up wanting more than one child to teach life skills and nurture and mould into such a beautiful young thing who cared and loved like there was no such thing as tomorrow. She’d been an only child herself and found life to be rather… different. Especially to her friends in school who were children of many in their families. Of course, YN had cousins and she saw them whenever she wanted (moreso on festive holidays and family birthdays rather than her parents appearing on their doorstep for a cup of tea and an offer for the kids to play in the garden until dark) but it never amounted to the same feeling as seeing a sibling on a daily basis, after school or in the morning, someone to wind up and irritate out of love but someone to trust when something came up that she didn’t want her parents knowing.

So when Persephone was born, freshly cleaned and m minutes old and laying her father’s arms in the most pinkest blanket found in her hospital bag, YN deemed it necessary to silently promise to never let her experience a childhood alone. Not that she thought it was a bad thing to be an only child; heck, she was thankful she never had the bickering brother to deal with that only fought for those he loved or the snotty older sister who told her what to do and not to do with her life but loved her all the same. She felt envious of Harry when she was introduced to his older sister but soon felt that Gemma was an older sister of her own flesh and blood with how welcoming she’d been and seeing the brother-sister bond that Harry had, she found it was only necessary to let her own child have that exciting life growing up.

“You’re not eating much this morning,” Harry said softly, inhaling the smell of honey porridge before wrapping his lips around the spoon in his hand and swallowing the thick textured substance. Eyes focused on his wife as sat in her own world, stirring her tea in her china mug, an ashen look on her face - because morning sickness had been a bigger bitch to her the second time than the first time and she wasn’t expecting it to be as bad- as she hid behind a smile. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah, I think I’m a little stressed out. I have too much to do this coming week and too little time to do it and I feel so rushed,” she murmured, setting her teaspoon upon the plate that did hold her dry toast before Harry came and joined her for breakfast, fingers curling around the handle of her mug. “I might have to cancel lunch with your mum this afternoon. I need to start wrapping, decorating, planning Christmas day, getting the food in.”

“You’re looking a little sick, I’m sure she won’t mind if you want to cancel.”

“She was so excited though.”

“She’d feel even better if you took some time out for yourself and felt better. Besides, she’s coming next week with Gem and Michal for Christmas dinner so she’s got that to look forward to,” Harry said, plunging his spoon into his porridge before taking another bite and swallowing it, honey sticking to his pink lips, “what can I do to make you feel less stressed? Give me something to do.”

“You could go and pick Seff’s main present up from that toy shop on Oxford Street for me. I got an email saying it arrived yesterday morning so we just need to go and get it. I can wrap the last of her presents up whilst you’re gone and hide yours somewhere where you don’t go snooping,” she stated, cocking an eyebrow up on her browline and staring at him over the rim of her white mug, “like you did last year.”

“In my defence, you did ask me to go and get a pair of knickers from your drawer after your bath.”

Harry had always been one to go snooping when it came to gifts. Anne had told her that the first Christmas she spent with Harry during a conversation that spiked up when YN pulled Anne aside to ask her for tips on what to get him, whether he'd asked for anything specific and whether he was allergic to anything specific that would give her gift idea away if she asked him. And it stuck in the back of her mind every year.

Although, in his defense, he didn’t necessarily go snooping through her underwear drawer to find what she had brought for him, given the fact that she had a brainfart and had forgotten where she hid his most expensive gift for that year; a six-hundred pound watch that she’d seen him eyeing up in the shop window of Gucci every time they wandered passed. She knew he’d reach into the drawer, grab his favourite pair (that she always placed at the front of her pants) and chuck them into the bathroom with a joke that hinted to a little bedroom action when Persephone was in bed.

“You didn’t have to get a pair from the back end of my drawer. Since when do you reach for my period pants when I put all my nice, lacy ones at the front?” She huffed, rolling her eyes as she took a sip of the warm tea and felt it slide down her sore throat, goosebumps rising on her skin because there was a sense of warmth yet a sense of burning; acid reflux had become a bitch, too, and she was looking forward to sending him to the supermarket pharmacy, late at night, to grab a bottle of Gaviscon and heartburn tablets. “Plus, it was in a box with my name on it, sellotaped up on both ends, and put left in the box it came in. You had to open the box to find out what was inside the other box.”

“It fell out?” He shrugged sheepishly and sent her a cheeky smile. Tight-lipped, regardless of how sticky his lips were, and showing off his dimples in the middle of his cheeks. But YN was having none of it and she made sure her face told him that, her fingers tapping her mug. “Okay, fine. Curiosity got the better of me when I found it and I peeked. I promise I won’t this time though. The silent treatment you gave me on Christmas day was horrible.”

“You deserved it. I was excited to surprise you with it and you ruined it.”

“I know.”

The kitchen fell into a comfortable silence and all they could hear, coming from upstairs, was the bathroom tap running as Persephone brushed her teeth and got herself ready before school. Her uniform folded up and placed on her desk, like every morning, right next to the hairbrush that YN used to tie her hair into whatever kind of hairstyle she fancied for the day; today, it was plaits… thankfully, because YN really didn’t want to go through the hassle of doing space buns again.  Her school bag and her lunch box were hanging  off the back of the chair at the head of the table, homework left in her red folder on the table so she could double check her name was written on it before slotting it into her bag, shiny black shoes with a buckle left in the living room where she’d kicked them off yesterday. Coat hanging on the hook in the entryway, where she could reach for it on her way out before clambering into Harry’s Range Rover so he could drive her to school; her favourite mode of transport, she made sure to tell him every night.

“Can you get it by lunchtime today? So I can wrap it before she comes home from school. Otherwise she’ll see it and want it as soon as possible and this is probably the best one of the lot. And we know she follows in her father’s footsteps,” YN smirked, nudging her toe into his shin, “aren’t I right?”

“Like father, like daughter.”

*

The problem with wrapping presents was the backache.

Chronic backache experienced after an hour of being hunched over on the living room floor, sat cross-legged and leaning against the sofa, surrounded by rolled up balls of sellotape that got stuck to itself and useless pieces of wrapping paper that had no purpose on a present because it was too small or too wonkily cut. Bags upon bags full of Christmas presents, all named for family and friends, that she needed Harry to deliver before Christmas eve.

By the time she’d reached the bottom step, after her fourth trip up the stairs to take the newly wrapped presents into her office (locked to save the wandering eyes and the curious toes of her little girl finding them in the corner of her home-office), her husband had arrived home with an excitable Persephone and a guilty look upon his face as he shrugged his coat off and unwrapped his scarf from around his neck. His nose pink, Persephone’s cheeks red, but both their jumpers decorated with crumbs from what she could only imagine came from a cake in their favourite local bakery down the road.

“Mummy! Mummy, daddy took me for a cake afterschool today. I had a chocolate one with sprinkles and a flake and it tasted like an orange and-”

Harry’s eyes widened and he looked to his wife, who had a knowing grin on her face, and he knew he’d been busted from the moment he walked through the door.

“Seff, you promised me you weren’t going to blab to mummy. That was our secret, little lady,” he chuckled softly, cupping the back of her head with his palm, fingertips cold against her scalp, “mummy wasn’t supposed to know.”

“But it was really good and I wanted to tell mummy about it because she can get one when she goes out shopping with auntie Gem and they can taste it and tell me it was yummy,” Persephone grinned, the gap between her two front teeth starting to fill in with a brand-new adult tooth, all pearly white and jagged, “mummy can buy me another one and herself one and auntie Gem one and we can share them together.”

“Did you bring me anything back?”

Her gloved hands dug around her school bag, school shoes long forgotten by the front door and kicked off haphazardly, her scarf hanging round her shoulders and her hand tucked into Harry’s fist because, YN could only guess, she didn’t want to mess up the plaits still perfectly done up. A rustle of wrapping coming from the flat of her pocket, bringing out a carefully wrapped gingerbread man with a purple ribbon tying it together at the top, a bobble stuck to the top as some kind of festive decoration.

“I brought you a gingerbread man, mummy! With the money Nana gave me in my Christmas card,” she thrust her hand towards her mother and passed it to her; YN was sure the money her own mother had given to her was for something she could use herself but she was thankful, of course, entirely grateful that she’d chosen to share her money to get her something.

“Thank you, baby. We’ll share it for pudding after dinner later, yeah? With some strawberries.”

“Yeah and some chocolate sauce!”

And with that, she ran off into the living room and found a comfy space on the sofa to watch whatever YN had left on the television, leaving her mother and father to tidy the mess left behind in the entryway.

“Maybe a little sauce,” YN said as she reached for the coat on the floor, hanging it on the hook beneath her’s and Harry’s, hanging her scarf over the top and leaving her gloves on the radiator to warm up, “you’ve had some chocolate already today.”

Harry grinned and pressed a kiss to his wife’s forehead, squeezing her arm before sneaking passed her and into the living room, bending over the sofa to look at his daughter from an upside-down position, “come on you, let’s go do your homework at the table.”

“Actually,” YN blurted suddenly, standing in the archway before them, smiling softly at them as they looked at her, “before you do that, can I tell you something? Well, not tell you something. Show you something. I want to give you both an early Christmas present, I guess.”

Persephone perked up and pushed herself to her knees, an excitable grin on her already excitable face as she looked between her mum and dad, a confused look spread across Harry’s features.

“What is it?”

YN disappeared for a second, footsteps heard going up the stairs and a creak heard from a bedroom being opened - and if Harry was right then it was the spare room, because he’d promised to fix the squeaking door but had yet to get round to it, where nowhere really went into because it was empty and desolate and had no decor in it yet. There was a sound of some rustling, faint but still audible if you listened closely, the creak heard again before footsteps were heard descending the stairs, a deep breath escaping her mouth before she turned the corner. A white box tucked under her arm.

“Mummy, what’s in the box?”

“I’ll let daddy open it but sit together to open it because it’s for the both of you and I can’t wait till next week to give it to you,” she stepped across the carpet and passed it over, letting him get a good feel of how heavy it was before he sauntered around the sofa and sat on the sofa beside his daughter. Her hand coming across to touch and stroke the white box, looking at it with furrowed eyebrows, waiting for her father to open the flaps and pull whatever was inside out for them to look at.

Harry’s fingers timidly opened the box, sellotape coming undone as he pulled the contents out and set them upon the top; a white babygrow, a white hat and matching mittens and a sonogram of the ultrasound she had during her doctor’s visit. Biting her bottom lip, she couldn’t help but feel the pit of her stomach drop; unexpected or not, they were expecting a baby and she couldn’t have been more excited - she just hoped his silence meant he felt the same.

“So, what do you think?”

A gasp left his mouth.

“What- does this explain why you’ve been so ill?” He stood to his feet and left the contents behind, stepping around the sofa to grab her into a hug and squeeze her against his chest. The sting of happy tears burning the corners of his eyes as he twirled the both of them around. “God, I had a hunch in the back of my head that you were pregnant but I didn’t want to say anything in case it wasn’t. Christ, you think I haven’t heard you vomiting in the bathroom in the mornings before I wake up? Not eating your usual breakfast? All the same mannerisms from the first one?”

He set YN back on the floor and cupped his forehead with his hand.

“I found out this week, Monday evening actually. I wanted to wait till Christmas day to surprise you but I was too excited and it was killing me keeping it from you. I wanted to come back and shout it at you on Monday but- well, surprise.”

“Daddy, what is it?”

They both looked at Persephone and saw her holding the black and white photograph; a scene they hadn’t ever imagined but never wanted to take for granted. Bracing his weight on his elbows, he leant on the back of the sofa and took the picture from her hands, using his pointer finger to show her just what they were so excited about. His eyes scanned the photo before he found what he was looking for, turning it back to Persephone so he could show her the right place.

“You see that little white blob there? Right here,” he spoke softly, pointing to the middle of the sonogram, waiting for her to nod before carrying on “that’s going to be your new baby brother or sister, little lady.”

Her eyes widened and she looked at him.

“Where are you getting them from? Will they be here for Christmas? Can I come with you to pick one?”

Harry chuckled and looked over his shoulder, catching a glimpse of a tear dribbling down YN’s cheek, his own eyes threatening to flood.

“They’re in mummy’s belly right now. A little tiny dot, no bigger than your fingernail. That’ll grow, just like you did, in mummy’s belly until they’re nice and ready to come out and join us next year.”

“Why next year?”

At this point, YN had taken the space next to her husband, standing straight. She reached for her daughter’s hand, bringing it beneath her jumper and placing it on her bare tummy.

“Because they need to grow nice and strong in mummy’s belly before they can come and meet us,” YN smiled, squeezing her hand as they kept their joined hands underneath her bellybutton, “just like you did. That’s where you started, where you came from, until you came and joined us here. Growing and blossoming until they’re ready to come and see us.”

“Like a flower?”

“Yeah,” YN grinned at Harry, his arm resting over her shoulder as he pulled her into his side, squeezing her tightly to his body, “like the most delicate flower in the world. They need the space and time to grow big and strong in my belly, nice and healthy so they can come out and be a part of our family when they’re ready, and be your little brother or sister.”

“That’s great news, huh, little lady? You’re going to be a big sister.”

“The best big sister ever.”