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vateacancameos · 5 years ago

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All in the Family

Chapters: 1/1 Words: 4,150 Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Luna Lovegood/Ginny Weasley, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter Characters: Ginny Weasley, Luna Lovegood, Draco Malfoy Additional Tags: Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Post-Canon, Established Relationship, Both Linny and Drarry, Meet the Family, The Talk, Mentions of Ginny having tattoos, because she'd look awesome in tattoos and i just had to add that in, POV Ginny Weasley, POV Draco Malfoy

Summary: There comes a time in many romantic relationships when you have to meet the family. It’s usually nerve-wracking and awkward and something to be dreaded. Take a peek into Ginny’s and Draco’s minds during this step.

Story:

Ginny took a deep breath and squinted at her image in the mirror. She looked like her usual self, but a little neater: hair in a sleek ponytail, skin tanned from hours of practice and games, far too many freckles for her liking, but not a thing she could help, brightly colored tattoos wiggling on her arms. She smoothed hands over cropped jeans that probably sported a few too many holes. Did the green shirt make her look like a Christmas tree? No, Luna called it kelly green, not Christmas green. She said it complimented her skin and freckles, which she liked far better than Ginny did. She smiled at the thought.

“You look lovely, dear,” the mirror told her. But the mirror always said that, being owned by Luna who was (1) Ginny’s girlfriend and therefore prone to overcomplimenting and (2) a ball of sunshine even in the darkest times and would never own a mirror that wasn’t similarly inclined.

“It’s not too butch? Is it butch enough? I need to give the perfect impression here: respectable but not a floor mat. Meeting the family doesn’t happen every day.”

“You look like a beautiful summer day.”

Ginny huffed. Help would not come from this corner, apparently. She was about to call in her girlfriend, but Luna must have felt Ginny’s need, as she somehow always did, because she wandered in just then, putting on her earrings as she walked. She beamed.

“You look like a beautiful summer day!”

Ginny could feel the mirror puffing up behind her. She rolled her eyes.

“But is it good for a first impression?”

Keep reading below the cut

Luna frowned and tilted her head. “But it’s not a first impression. You’ve known him for years.”

“But not …” Ginny began, waving her arms when the words wouldn’t come. “Not like this. With romantic intention or whatever.” She wiped sweaty hands on her trousers again. “I have to give off a specific impression today. I have to be firm but, ugh, friendly.”

“You’re always friendly.” Luna smiled dreamily. “I remember when we first met, when your family invited mine to dinner. Your brothers were so loud, and you were too at first. It was overwhelming. But then you stopped fighting with them and came over to me. You smiled like the sun and said, ‘I like your hat.’”

“It was a very cool hat.”

They hadn’t seen much of each other before Hogwarts, but Ginny had always liked the rare occasions she got to spend with the odd, quiet little girl who was one of her nearest wizarding neighbors. She was so much the opposite of the rowdy Weasleys—calm, thoughtful, so very smart, and most importantly, a girl her age. It was peaceful and fun being with Luna.

Realizing how good being around Luna felt was what made Ginny finally break things off with Harry the year before. Harry was always in slight opposition to whatever life threw at him. Yes, he weathered storms durably, but he was never … comfortable. Content. Even after she talked him out of joining the aurors—which had at least taken off some of the pressure to be the perfect Boy Who Lived Twice—he still seemed restless. Even with Ginny. Especially with Ginny. So she’d let go of her dream of marrying the boy she’d had a crush on for as long as she could remember and soon after had fallen into the arms of someone who made her feel more wanted and loved and perfect than she’d ever felt before. Life was better now, with Luna to help ground her. Perhaps Ginny had been at odds with life too. She and Harry were very alike in some ways.

Which brought her back to her current dilemma.

“I’m not going for happy summer day vibes, though.”

Luna’s eyebrows crinkled. “What vibes are you aiming for then?”

Ginny rubbed an arm. “Ummm. Respectable but intimidating?” At the skeptical look from her girlfriend, she continued. “I can be intimidating.”

Luna smiled softly and laid her hands on Ginny’s cheeks. “Of course you are. You wouldn’t be a starting chaser for the Holyhead Harpies if you weren’t intimidating.”

Ginny snorted. “Are you ever going to get tired of stating my full position title? I was moved up to starter, like, four months ago.”

“Never!” Luna said with a grin.

After giving her a quick peck on the lips, Ginny turned back to the mirror, and Luna put her arms around her waist from behind. “Why do you need to be intimidating for family dinner?”

“Because it’s not just family dinner. It’s meet the family dinner. I have to give the right impression.”

“Which would be intimidating?” Luna’s breath and the vibration of her voice tickled Ginny’s neck. She liked it.

“Yes.”

“Even though you’ve met before. Many times.”

“Yes.”

There was a pause. “I still don’t get it.”

Ginny sighed and turned in her girlfriend’s arms. “This is Harry.”

“Whom you’ve known since you were ten. Whom you’ve dated. Twice.”

“I don’t want to intimidate Harry.”

Understanding smoothed out Luna’s face and widened her eyes. “Oh. You’re protective of him.”

“Yes!”

“Is Draco intimidatable?”

“Is intimidatable a word?”

“It is now.”

“Then yes, he is. I remember his pointy little ferret face completely blanching when I threatened him with hexes.” Good times …

“Your bat bogey hex is pretty frightening. Also, you should be nice.”

“It’s fucking Malfoy. I’m still not sure how Harry is even dating him. And I’m ninety percent sure I don’t like that they’re dating. Ugh. Malfoy. I’m getting annoyed just thinking about it.” She buried her face in Luna’s shoulder. She smelled like lilacs and sparkles. Ginny wasn’t sure how she managed the latter, but it was true. She smelled like sparkles. It was nice.

“You promised Harry you’d stop hating him. And you promised your father before that.”

“Ugh. I know. But it’s Malfoy. He’s an arse!”

“Ginny.” Luna’s voice turned stern, as it only rarely did, so Ginny straightened up.

“Sorry. I really am trying. It’s just … Harry hated him for so long, and he used to say such mean things to us, especially to Hermione. My brain has trouble believing he’s changed enough for Harry to fall for him. Are you certain he’s not under a spell or love potion?”

“Ginny.”

“Yeah, I know.” She sighed. “He helped you when you were a prisoner at the manor. And he kept Harry from being recognized. It’s just …”

“It’s hard to flip around what you knew about him all through school.”

“Mmm,” Ginny grunted in agreement, going in for another hug. Luna hugs were the best. She always felt so protected and calmed in a Luna hug.

Luna tightened her arms in a squeeze before letting go and stepping back. “I think the dark gray button-down and the obsidian necklace I got you for your birthday, if you’re going for intimidating.”

Ginny raised her eyebrows before shucking the green tee and rifling through the wardrobe for the suggested top instead. “You’re helping me?”

“Well, I was actually going to suggest it anyway. George told me that since Bill isn’t able to come, you should give Draco the ‘you hurt him, and I break your kneecaps’ talk. Ron can’t give it, because he’ll just get yell-y, and he’s not terribly intimidating even like that. And George is afraid he might actually break Draco’s kneecaps, and he can’t go to Azkaban right now, what with the baby on the way. And Percy would just put him to sleep explaining the details.”

Laughing as she buttoned up her shirt, Ginny privately agreed. Being a professional athlete meant she’d had to learn rein in her temper, and she’d always been closest to Bill in temperament anyway. “We could ask Charlie to swoop in on a dragon. That might work.”

“George asked, but apparently he’s busy watching over this year’s births. He offered to send a howler though.” Luna’s expression said that she thought these were perfectly reasonable suggestions.

That sounded about right for her brothers too. “We’ll keep that tactic on reserve in case my intimidation doesn’t work. I dunno about being the one giving the talk, though. I thought I was just going to glare at him across the table all through dinner …” She finished rolling up her sleeves to her elbows, letting the bottom half of her tattoo sleeves show on her forearms. She eyed her image critically. “Better? Are you sure about the necklace? I need to be more butch, don’t I? To be intimidating?”

Luna shook her head, taking the ends of said necklace to clasp them behind Ginny’s neck. “Draco likes classy. He’d probably be more impressed if you wore black trousers, but then you wouldn’t be you.” She wrinkled her nose, and Ginny agreed with the sentiment. She lived in jeans and trainers, only owning black trousers to wear at semi-formal events for work. Not to mention that her brothers, Harry included, would take the mickey if she showed up in something beyond her regular clothes.

She sighed a final time and turned to her girlfriend. “Okay, let’s get this over with. Ugh. But I swear, if he is at all acting like an arsehole, I will cut a bitch.”

***

Draco wiped his sweaty palms on the sofa fabric for the eightieth time in the twenty minutes he’d been at the Weasley abode. He’d met them all before, of course. Most of them had attended school with him. And he’d seen them at his trial. Arthur had even been kind enough to shake his hand after he’d been cleared of the worst of his charges. Granted, it hadn’t been completely out of kindness. Draco’s community service sentence had been to work in Arthur’s office for two years after his release, so he’d also been officially introducing himself as Draco’s supervisor. But even with the formality of it, Arthur had seemed kind. Serious, yes, but not in any way malicious or aloof, which was more than how the Malfoys had addressed the Weasleys in the past.

And Draco had quickly become comfortable around the eccentric man. Arthur might come off as a bit kooky, but he was ever the professional at work, and Draco appreciated that, along with being so thankful that the man wouldn’t continue to punish him for his past (terrible) choices. So yes, he’d worked with Arthur for two years, and gone to school with most of the other Weasleys, but this was different. This wasn’t just dinner with friendly acquaintances (though only Arthur fell into that category), this was meeting the family as the romantic partner of their practically adopted son/brother.

He and Harry hadn’t been dating that long, and the only Weasleys he’d interacted with since the relationship had begun were Percy and Ron. Percy was fine, if a little dry, and even Ron had graduated from angry scowls to only looking like he had a slightly upset stomach. But the other Weasleys were more unknown. Luckily Bill and Charlie were busy, so tonight that only left Molly, George, and Ginny (“if you call her the Weaselette, Draco, I will hurt you,” Luna had warned during their latest tea date). At least he’d had some interactions with Molly and George back when he and Harry were still just friends and he had with Arthur for two years, but Ginny he probably hadn’t said a dozen words to since they’d left school.

So even though the brothers might be intimidating, Ginny was the unknown. Harry swore they were completely over each other, and closer now as almost siblings than they had been as paramours, but Draco wasn’t sure what to think of her. He’d tossed out jealousy pretty early. Harry only ever spoke of her in the fond way of close friends/family. But that still left a lot of unknowns. He’d been on the wrong end of her hexes on several occasions, and she was a chaser for a professional quidditch team (one of the scariest teams out there, no less), so he knew she had both bark and bite. It was likely she’d employ some intimidation tactics, but would it stop there? Was she jealous of him? He didn’t think so, hearing Luna wax poetic about her constantly during their tea dates. But there could still be some genuine hate from her. Nothing he didn’t deserve, though.

He wished Luna and Ginny would just show up already, so he could get this dinner thing over with. Harry warned that there would probably be a “hurt him and I’ll hurt you” threat taking place that evening, but he didn’t know who had drawn the short straw on that. Unless they went in for a four-pronged attack from all of the present siblings. Merlin, he hoped not.

As if he’d summoned them with his thoughts, the two women burst through the door, calling out greetings to everyone else. Ginny headed for the kitchen without a glance at Draco, but Luna brightened further and made a beeline for the sofa.

She gave him a quick hug. “I would say you clean up well except …”

“Except I always look this good?”

“I was going to say except that you could still use some work, but if you want to go with yours, that’s fine. What’s important is that you believe it.” Her smile was deceptively serene, and the glitter in her hair and the fairy necklace didn’t help present her as anything other than innocent. But Draco knew better after years of slowly cultivating their friendship.

Draco clutched his heart in mock hurt. “Harsh. When does the girlfriend start full-time training again? I think you’re spending too much time together.”

Luna’s effervescent smile dimmed a little. “In three weeks. This will be our first full season as a couple. From what I gather, I’ll barely see her between the start of training and their first season game.”

Draco felt similar trepidation. School would be starting soon, and Harry would be a full-time professor for the first time this year. He’d spent the last few years tutoring and job shadowing while waiting for the current DADA professor to retire, so they were somewhat used to being apart as friends, but never as a couple.

(It was odd knowing that Hogwarts had employed the same DADA professor for six years running; odder still to think of perpetual disaster Harry James Potter as a professor. Draco really wished he’d use the hair potion Draco had bought him a few weeks ago; he needed to look more professional, but Harry had argued that if Dumbledore and Snape could get away with long, shaggy hair, so could he. Draco knew a losing argument when he saw one, so he’d given up after a week.)

Beyond Harry’s soon-to-be-full schedule after a summer of freedom, the two of them had only been dating for a few months, and Draco wasn’t sure how the change in daily routine would affect them. Harry tried to subdue the worries, but Draco saw that he was hiding some qualms of his own. They’d each only been in one prior relationship, so there was a chance that any change would break them apart.

Luna, reading his mind, as always, swooped in for another hug. “It’ll be fine,” she whispered in his ear before pulling back. How did she do that? “Your face, silly. You’re an open book. Not to mention, I got to hear you list your worries ad nauseum during tea last week.”

She had him there. “I just want tonight to be over already.”

“Mmmm,” she hummed in sympathy. “I remember how my meet-the-family dinner went. Oh! I wanted to warn you. Ginny��s giving you The Talk tonight.”

Draco leaned back in surprise. “Just her?” If any single one of the Weasleys was going to give him The Talk, he’d have expected one of the older ones, or maybe Ron, because he and Harry were best friends. But Draco had never expected The Talk from solely the youngest (and only female) sibling. Her status as the baby should have kept her out of the running. Just because Draco lived in constant slight terror to this day of being hit by one of her hexes, he didn’t expect the others to feel the same.

“Well, she’s most similar to Bill, isn’t she. The others know you’d respect it more coming from her.”

“Yeah, I reckon. Do you know when she’s going to do it?”

Before she could answer, Ginny entered the sitting room and addressed the others who peppered the space. “George and Ron, Harry and Dad need help outside.”

The two men looked up from where they were brainstorming new ideas for the shop, shrugged, then left the room. Hermione looked up from the baby jumper she was knitting for George and Angelina’s upcoming baby—at least, she said it was a jumper; it looked more like a lumpy blue snowball with arms.

“They’re not still trying to charm the new car, are they?” Ginny gave her a “what do you think” look, and Hermione sighed, dropped the knitting, and followed the others outside.

“I’m going to see if Molly and Angelina want help in the kitchen,” Luna added with a sympathetic look at Draco before hurrying out as well, the traitor.

Draco took a deep breath. “So it’s to be you, then? Lose a bet?”

Ginny looked a little stunned, then reluctantly amused. She dropped down onto the coffee table across from him. “I’d like to think I won.”

She leaned forward to rest her elbows on her knees, and the dragon tattoo on her right arm blew out an inky flame, as if to back her up. She looked more serious than usual, which was enhanced by the dark button-down she wore, so in opposition to her usual bright but scruffy t-shirts. She still sported holey trousers and her grungy trainers, though, but she made it work. Or maybe Draco was just getting inured to the sloppy look, dating someone who wore the same style like a uniform. He looked down to see that he still had on his own high-end trousers and button-down and relaxed a bit in relief.

He waved a hand so she’d get started. The sooner they talked, the sooner they’d be done, the sooner dinner would be done, the sooner he could get back home and revel in the warmth of Harry’s body in bed next to his (Harry called it cuddling, but Draco never would, ugh).

She raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Look. I know Dad respects you, so I learned to stop hating you a while ago.” She sighed. “And for whatever strange reason, Luna likes you, so I can admit that you’ve probably changed from the utter fucking dickhead you were in school.”

Draco choked on his own saliva. He’d forgotten she had the same sailor mouth Harry did. Or maybe he’d never known. It shouldn’t have been a surprise, given her whole … persona. Still, Luna was all rainbows and puppies about her, and Harry talked about her like a little sister, so he forgot sometimes that she was an adult and a quidditch star with the mouth to go along with it.

She glared, and he cleared his throat. “Yes, thank you. I appreciate that. Go on.”

“Thanks,” she said with so much sarcasm, he could practically hear the “I hate it” she didn’t voice. “So yeah, you’ve changed. You’re a new fucking man. Bright and shiny new leaves turned over. Whatever.” She sat up straight, her eyes boring through Draco so hard, he expected to feel two dots of heat on his forehead. “I’ll even say I’m okay with you two dating, even though it’s completely weird. I never thought I’d see the day someone in our family dated a Malfoy.”

She spit out his name out in a way that made him think back to an altercation their dads had had in Diagon Alley years ago. Harry had been there too, now that he thought about it. Her tone now was the same as Arthur’s had been then. Trying so hard to be a respectful adult, but barely hiding anger underneath. He didn’t think she was quite as okay as she claimed. He really didn’t blame her. His family was bad news. He shrugged, hoping he’d convey that the idea was still weird to him too. Him. Dating Harry Potter. What alternate universe had they fallen into?

“But Harry really likes you,” she continued, “and I trust him. I think.” A wrinkled eyebrow said otherwise, but Draco kept mum. “He’s an adult, and so if he wants to date you, that’s his prerogative. But know this.” She leaned forward again. “You even look at him wrong, and I’ll dropkick you so hard into last Tuesday, that even if we hadn’t destroyed all of the ministry’s time turners, you still wouldn’t be able to get back. Got it?”

He tried to tell himself they were just words. This was a ritual every new boyfriend went through. It was normal. But then again, this was Harry Potter. Nothing about him was normal, and that included his family. Draco had seen Ginevra Weasley in battle, and he’d been subjected to her hexes in school. She’d dated Harry and must therefore know the feeling of wanting to wrap him in cotton fluff and hide him from the cruel world. They weren’t just words to her. She meant business, and he appreciated that. They both wanted the best for Harry, and if Draco failed to be that, he deserved whatever punishment she and her clan would mete out to him.

“Thank you.”

She jerked her head back and frowned. “What?”

“Harry deserves to have the fiercest warriors in his corner. I’m glad he has friends and family who will be that for him.”

“Hm. Yes, he does.” Despite her words, she looked suspicious.

“And, in that vein,” he continued with a spark of realization, “you hurt Luna, and it’ll take them a month remove all the curses from you.”

She cocked her head for a moment, then relaxed her shoulders and almost smiled. “Deal.”

She held out a hand, and he took it, wondering if his own was about to be crushed so hard, he’d need SkeleGrow to knit his bones back together. Her grip was firm to the point of being uncomfortable, but after they shook, all of his bones still seemed to be in place and whole.

A call came from Molly in the kitchen then, so they both stood, back to feeling slightly awkward with each other. Just as they were about to head through the door, Ginny put a hand on his wrist. Draco looked over at her face in question.

“Um, Harry. He’s … he’s really happy these days. The happiest I’ve ever seen him. Thank you.” Her face was soft, and the most open Draco had ever seen it.

“I’m glad you think so.” Uncomfortable with the serious mood coming from a Weasley, he smirked. “Luna seems to be rubbing off on you as well. I think this is the most cleaned up I’ve ever seen you. Not bad, Weasley the Youngest.”

She barked out a short laugh, then got an evil glint in her eye. “I’m glad you approve, since I stole this shirt from your wardrobe. Who wears such drab colors voluntarily? I’d be getting hives from it if I didn’t have my tats to liven it up.”

He let out a surprised laugh of his own, which was drowned out by the lively mess of humans crowding around the kitchen table. He’d survived The Talk with the scariest Weasley (besides Bill). He felt confident he could survive the rest of the family.

***

After they’d apparated back to their flat, Luna jumped on Ginny to give one of the octopus hugs Ginny loved. After a quick peck on her cheek, Luna snuggled closer. “I love you.”

“I love you too. Any particular reason at this moment, or just my general awesomeness?”

Luna giggled. “You are pretty awesome, but it’s not just that this time.”

Realization dawned in Ginny. “Were you spying on my talk with Mal- Draco?”

“No.” Luna shook her head vehemently, eyes wide. “But I saw the way you two looked when you came into the kitchen afterward.”

“Which was …?” Ginny prepared herself for any number bubbly adjectives about to come out of her girlfriend’s mouth.

“Like two adults who have come to an agreement of mutual respect.”

Eyebrow raised, Ginny only said, quite intelligently, “hmm.”

“But also adorable and chummy. I saw the way you were smiling, Ginevra.”

“And there’s the girlfriend I know and love,” Ginny said drily, but she gave said girlfriend a kiss.

“I’m proud of you.”

Ginny grinned. “Good. I like making you proud.”

Luna hummed. “My respectable, beautiful, starting chaser quidditch star girlfriend.”

“That’s me.”

***

Thank you for reading! If you’d like to leave kudos on ao3, find the link in my reblog.

#harry potter #linny #drarry #fanfic #meeting the family #meagan writes #ginny x luna #harry x draco

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random-imagines-blog · 6 years ago

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Shut Me Up {Tom Riddle One Shot}

Requested by: Anonymous Wordcount: 4788 Synopsis: A Slytherin and a Gryffindor do their prefect rounds together and run into a spot of trouble on Halloween Night. Notes: John Murphy as Tom Riddle.

The Halloween celebrations at Hogwarts were legendary, and much looked forward to by students and staff alike. Pumpkins, carved with faces and sprinkled with cinnamon and brown sugar, brought both the autumn look and smell to the great hall as they hovered above the tables during the feast. Some of the students went as far as to wear costumes, though most were attired in their warmer robes with bright colored scarves around their necks in shades of orange. Honeydukes in Hogsmeade had provided mountains of candy which piled up around the puddings during dessert, but the feast was not the highlight of the day for many of the students. That would come later, when the teachers retired to their rooms except for those on patrol, for Halloween was a night of mischief for ghost and student alike.

All prefects were put on patrol duty for the night, and that meant that you - a fifth year prefect representing the proud house of Gryffindor - were out of bed and wandering the dark castle rather than sharing a cup of pumpkin juice with your friends and guessing if the candy handed to you was an acid pop or a muggle lollipop. You weren’t alone, but you might as well have been for you had been paired with Tom Riddle, Slytherin prefect, and a person known for being the strong and silent type, and not at all given to conversation, even to pass the time.

Tom Riddle walked with his hands clasped behind his straight back. His eyes were always ahead, never on you. He didn’t even suggest bringing out his wand and casting lumos so you two could see if anyone was standing in the shadows, he seemed to be able to see in the dark. The candles were just enough for you to be able to tell if something was moving but apart from that, you were blind.

You couldn’t take it anymore and brought out your wand, casting the light giving spell, but immediately, the Slytherin beside you gently pressed it down so it was pointed at the floor. “We want to catch people, not let them on to our presence so they can stop their activities.” He spoke, his voice deeper than that of most people your age. You rolled your eyes, persistent on keeping the light.

“I’d rather them stop their activities and go to bed than have to chase them around the castle, in the dark nonetheless.” You argued.

“Shh.” He said, and muttered the counterspell to darken your wand. You opened your mouth to argue but realized that it would be absolutely pointless in this case. Any other Slytherin, you would have taken on, but there was something to Tom Riddle that made you stop and ponder whether it was a good idea. It didn’t matter if it was or not at that moment, for you too heard whatever noise that he had his ears caught onto.

Around a corner, there was sounds of muffled laughter. Students out of bed, and as of yet uncaught by the caretaker or a prefect. You just had to hope that they were not Gryffindor students, giving your house a bad name and the potential of getting points taken away which was something that you could ill afford at this time.

You held your wand in your hand, your thumb grazing a knot in the wood, ready to defend yourself from an ever-bashing boomerang or a dungbomb or whatever they might have had planned.

You were much more subtle than Tom, creeping rather than merely stepping, hoping to catch them off guard, startle them into silence and enforce some discipline which was your responsibility, but Tom’s footsteps could be heard down the hall. It did not scare away the students, but brought about some laughter and shushing. They were evidently not going to be giving up on their prank, no matter who it was that would pass into it.

The two of you turned into the next Hallway but it was empty. A flash of movement in one of the classrooms caught your attentions however. You grabbed onto Tom’s robe and chased after it, heading into the unused room. You raised your wand to light it again but the sound of the door slamming shut behind you, and then being blocked rather than just locked, was loud enough for you not to hear yourself reciting the spell. It lit anyhow, and the white light showed that the two of you were not alone.

There was something pale in the corner of the room. It had spots missing from it, but the light from the end of your wand reflected off the white, making it appear like a ghost. You thought perhaps it might be one of the many Hogwarts ghosts on a late night stroll but the thing moved closer and showed a much more solid form than any of the ghosts had. Each step had an odd sound, like rubber slapping against wood, followed by a squeak like a person coming out of the rain.

“Stay there,” You said, raising your wand. Tom took a step closer to the figure, his arm also raised, and the thing changed itself, following into shadow and dropping onto the ground noiselessly. It was only the wind coming from it as it fell that gave you any indication of what had happened.

Tom lit his wand as well, finally using his common sense in your opinion, and took a few confident strides over until he stopped suddenly.

“What is it?” You questioned, whispering.

“Boggart.” He finally spoke. Your mind whirled with this new information, and curiosity did overtake you. You knew that you would do well to retreat back to the door, cast a blasting spell to get whatever blocked it out of the way and capture the students who had locked you inside - but you were curious about what the fear of someone like Tom Riddle would be.

The light showed the figure on the floor, with dark hair covering his eyes, pale skin nearly glowing. The blood that was on the hands, and on some of the exposed skin, was a violent crimson that could not soon be forgotten. Tom kicked the figure just a little, to reveal its face.

Tom’s own.

You gasped and put your hand to your mouth. It took a moment for you to control your breathing, but now that you had, all you could think about was going out that door and taking all of the points away from those students, no matter which house you were in, and report them to the Headmaster immediately.

“Ridikkulus.” Tom said, the light at the end of his wand going out, and was replaced by the sparkle of the spell. The body was lifted, and started to jerk and dance about like it was a puppet on strings. This attempt to make it funny just made you feel more uneasy. You started to feel sick to your stomach.

But eventually the puppeted corpse of the boy next to you dissipated, and in it’s stead, a clown stood. The corners of it’s large red mouth were particularly pointy, the nose was as red as blood. The pointed cone-shaped hat that was on it’s head seemed as sharp as the end of a needle, and it’s eyes as black as coal.

Seeing it brought you back to third year, when you had learned how to deal with Boggarts in DADA class. Relax, do not give into fear, think of something to make this big nosed, big footed thing amusing. Pointing the wand right at the clown’s chest, you muttered ‘Ridikkulus.”

A popping sound filled the empty room, and then a wheezing. Like the balloons that clowns often carried, this clown was leaking air and folding in itself until there was nothing left but a deflated shape. That soon disappeared, and the two of you were left in utter darkness. A few seconds later, before you could respond to what had just happened, a wardrobe door opened and shut, the boggart trapping itself since it had been beaten.

And in another couple of seconds, a blast came from the direction of the door that you had come in through, as Tom used ‘Bombarda’ to literally make it explode out from it’s hinges. Once the dust settled, you were out of there, following the Slytherin prefect as he ran after the boys that had locked the two of you in there with literally your worst fears.

In the dark of the castle, you seemed to have lost them. The adrenaline and the fear had gotten the best of you back in the classroom, and you leaned against a wall in the corridor to catch your breath.

“Do you care to tell me why a classroom has been blown up?” You looked up to see a tall figure walking towards you, but you felt no anger, surprise or fear. The voice was that of the kindly Transfigurations professor, Dumbledore. You explained as quickly as possible what had happened, and that you had lost the trail of your co-prefect and the culprits. “Return to your dormitory, and you’ll be summoned in the morning to tell this all to Professor Dippet.” He said, calmly. You nodded, excused yourself and headed to the Gryffindor tower, unable to get the sight of the clown out of your mind.

The next morning, you were indeed called to Professor Dippet’s office after breakfast, where you stood with Tom, and the three seventh year Slytherin boys who had been the ones to pull the prank. You explained your piece, and were told in return that the boys would be receiving detention with Professor Slughorn every weekend for the next three months. That didn’t seem good enough to you - the Professor would probably bond with the boys over their rich and resourceful families and treat them to desserts, but you didn’t press the issue. Dippet did what he deemed best and as prefect, you had to trust that it was the right thing.

“Clowns.” Tom murmured as the two of you walked back to the staircases to proceed to your next lessons, which you were already running late for but you had signed notes from Dippet.

“Excuse me?” You asked, thinking that you heard him wrong, for it was such an odd thing to say.

“Your boggart was a clown.” Tom stated. You shot him a glance as you hopped up on one of the staircases as it started to change direction. He had stepped on as well but didn’t give you a single look.

“Have you seen those things? Terrifying. Definitely not appropriate for children at all.” You justified yourself. You very well could bring up his but anything personal about Tom felt off-limits to you. It was strange to even consider.

“They entertain children.”

“By hiding their faces and features under caked on paint, laughing menacingly, spraying water in your face, honking your nose, waving at you from across the room with it’s obnoxiously big white gloves...” You went on. “I’m not ashamed of it.”

“Clearly.” Tom said, with what sounded like amusement in his voice.

He stepped up a stair to join you, and you found his closeness to be quite uncomfortable. He was silent now, and you felt the pressure of having to say something, anything, to get rid of the quiet tension. “Can we just pretend that it never happened? I won’t ask you any questions about yours, and you leave me alone about mine.”

“Fine.” Tom said with a nod. The staircase clicked itself into place, and you proceeded up the rest of the way and onto the landing, looking over your shoulder at Tom, who stayed on the staircase as it moved away from the sixth floor corridor towards the Astronomy tower. You shook your head to yourself, and attempted to brush off the cold feeling that had come over you when you had stood near him.

The students that had been apprehended had been looking at you and sniggering all throughout breakfast, which made you feel uneasy. Your friends noticed it and kept shooting them dirty looks - one of them even offered to send a howler, pretending to be their mothers, but you rejected it. It would just make things worse, you felt, so you took the high road and attempted to ignore it. That was until you and most of the other students started to get up, adjust your robes, and head off to your first class of the day.

Through the massive doors that lead to the great hall strode in a clown. Okay, it may just have been Peeves the Poltergeist in a polka-dotted get up with some sort of colored grease paint all over his face, which you weren’t sure was possible since his face was not exactly solid, but it was still enough for you to lower your face to the ground, put your hands over your ears, and take a deep breath. You attempted to imagine that you were anywhere else but here as the jingling sounds of the bells on Peeves’ hat moved closer and closer.

Footsteps echoed on the floor as they came closer to you. You could just hear them over the sound of people in the Great Hall laughing at what, to you, was a terrifying sight that made you feel like you could melt into a puddle on the floor.

“Leave, Peeves.” Tom Riddle said, his voice forceful enough to make you shudder. If he had ever talked to you like that, you weren’t sure what you would do. And you were put in Gryffindor for a reason - you did have a great deal of bravery, he was just that intimidating.

“Itsy Little Riddle - I’ve got a Riddle for you!” Peeves said, bouncing around, making his hat jingle all the more. “I live for laughter, I live for the crowd, without it I am nothing, what am I?” He laughed loudly.

“We get it, you’re a clown.” Tom said, his voice even. “I’m sure the Baron will find it hilarious. I’ll summon him now-”

“Aiiee!” Peeves the Clown immediately fell through the floor, leaving the hat and clothing on the floor, which you only saw when you finally opened your eyes, following no further noise from the poltergeist. You avoided looking at the clothes after your first glimpse, and you definitely avoided looking at Tom. Rather, you just hurried from the Hall as fast as you could, and away from the laughter.

The Prefects bathroom was where you went, rather than the classroom. You went to the sinks, put your hands on either side of one of them, and took a couple of deep breaths. The vision of the deranged clown that the boggart had turned into flashed into your mind and you winced.

“I suspect it was those seventh years who put Peeves to the task.” Riddle said, strolling in. You looked at him through the mirror, but said nothing. He had as much right to be in here as you do, since you are both prefects. “I can’t prove it, however.”

“They got their laughs,” You said, straightening your back and then adjusted your red and gold striped tie that showed off your Gryffindor pride. It directly opposed Tom’s green and silver tie and badge. “But then again, your house is known for being utterly relentless.” You caught his eye in the reflection.

“Aren’t Gryffindors supposed to be brave?” He retorted, coming in closer to you. He stood directly behind but your eyes hadn’t moved, staring straight into his through the mirror. He leaned forward, his chest against your back, and turned on the water in the sink. “Splash some water on your face, you look pathetic.”

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll see how you react if anyone ever makes Peeves dress up as your corpse.” You said, doing as he had said for you to do, and splashed some cold water on your face. To your surprise, Tom held out a towel to you after that was done, and you took it and dried yourself off.

“Don’t ever mention that to anyone.” Tom threatened. You pretended not to hear him, using the towel to dry some of your flyaway hairs that had become wet as well.

“Did people see?” You asked, tossing the towel into the laundry bin where it would go down to the house elves, be washed, and brought back up. “My reaction, I mean, Peeves was hard to miss.”

“I doubt it, they were laughing until I ruined their fun.”

“Good. I’d hate for them to think I need to be shut up in an asylum because I cannot stand the sight of clowns.” You turned around and faced Tom straight on, and gave a weak smile. Despite the ribbing, you were still thankful that he had helped you in the Great Hall and that he had followed you in here. “They’re lucky I don’t know what they’re afraid of.”

“Do you want to find out?” Tom asked. The question hung in the air like a heavy cloud. He was full of surprises today, but this one was one of the bigger ones. He was never one to mess with drama, at least not in the school. He kept his focus on his studies, and on himself, he never gave a care about the other students, in a good or a bad way. This was the most Slytherin like that he had ever seemed to you.

“No.” You said, after a few minute deliberation. “They aren’t worth the trouble that we may get into. However - the moment that I graduate from this school, I’m tracking them down and challenging them to a duel. I plan to bombard them into the last century.” You said, with a determined tension in your jaw. Tom snickered - actually goddamn snickered at your gumption.

“Now that, I would like to see.” Tom said, retreating from you to head back towards the door. “I’ve got a few plans of my own.”

“Are you going to be a prankster, Tom Riddle?” He hardly seemed the type. He was so uptight, and so serious. He probably never went near a dungbomb in his life.

“No.” He said, as if it was the most preposterous idea that he had ever heard. “I’m not sinking to their level. I’m raising them to mine. Excuse me,” And with a bow of his curly black hair, he left the prefects bathroom. A moment later, you followed, heading the opposite way however to get to your first class of the day.

At which point did Tom realize that he was doing things for you, and not for himself? He couldn’t say - it had always been in the back of brain, that image of you, the way that you had shut down when you saw your greatest fear in front of you. It fascinated him, it intrigued him how you had frozen rather than face your weakness. Loud and obnoxious, those seventh year Slytherins were, and so it was easy to find them after dinner when he entered the Common Room. “Someone’s come to get the bloody baron before the Gryffindork pees themself?” One of them laughed, seeing Tom Riddle enter the dreary room.

“Interesting, isn’t it? The way that the simplest minds get fixated on one thing, when they should be worrying about many others.” Tom said, cool as an ice cube. “Now, for instance, yours shouldn’t be focused on the prefect, or on clowns, but on yourselves. I’d be very much concerned about that.” Maybe it was the tone of voice, the detection of a threat or how unfazed Tom was that alarmed the three boys. “Chances are, someone is going to stand up for them eventually, and it’s going to be known that you’re the only ones who knows about the clowns. Or maybe she’ll stand up for herself? Or maybe this will backfire in your face and it’ll be you on the end of the Bloody Baron’s sword. Maybe all the above.”

“I wouldn’t talk so much if I were you, prefect.” The largest of the boys said, forcing a smirk onto his face. “You could just have a laugh like the rest of us are doing.”

Tom brought out his wand, and quickly - very quietly - mumbled out the silencing charm on this leader. It was one of his own invention. Instead of just taking away the voice, it took away the entire mouth, leaving the skin from nose to chin without marr or features.

“The Gryffindor prefect is under my protection.” He gave no excuses, no reason for declaring it. He could have a million things to say, like it was because he didn’t want the trouble or the house points taken away. Those weren’t the reasons. He had no need to justify himself. “If one more clown related thing happens, I will have no remorse over what I will do to you.”

The two boys who weren’t silenced were much too fussed over their leader to pay much attention, but they nodded their heads, not wanting the same thing to happen to them. With his wand raised straight in front of his face, Tom strode in close to the mouthless boy, and raised an eyebrow. “Are we clear?”

The boys fingers touched where his mouth had been, and tried to open a space that wasn’t there. Hysterical grunts came through his nose, but he nodded in response to Tom, who poked the boys face and brought the mouth back. “Good. Not a word, lads.”

Over the next couple of weeks, there were no more sightings of clowns. Not a letter, not a ghost dressed up as one, not a thing, and you started to wonder if it had anything to do with the fact that Tom always seemed to be hanging around you now. Since your time together in the prefects bathroom, he seemed to be strolling behind you on your way to class, or sharing your table in the library when you went to study.

You started to welcome the company of the isolated teenager, slowing your pace so that he would have no choice but to either stop or join you on your walks, and you started to share books as well so you wouldn’t have to hunt for a second copy of something you both needed for an essay. It began to be easier to be around him. With you being a Gryffindor, and him a Slytherin, there was some tension still when it came to certain topics but you eased him into a friendship, slowly but surely.

You might even be the only friend that he’s ever had.

In the library, close to the end of the school year, you were studying for your OWLS diligently. Around you were all the different textbooks of the classes that you were taking, and you were jotting down important notes then muttering them to yourself so they would stick in your head better. Tom had joined you, and though he too took notes, there was no sound at all coming from his corner of the table other than the rustling of parchment and the turning of pages.

Then there was three minutes of straight silence. No quill scratching, nothing, so you looked over to his side of the table and saw him sitting straight, a dark look in his eyes, glaring over your shoulder. Slowly, you turned your head around with no expectations of what it was that Tom would be giving this look to. What you saw were the three seventh years who had locked you and Tom in the room with the boggart. They were trying to look brave, but you could see right through them. They had fear in their eyes as they looked right back at Tom.

“What is that, in your hand?” Tom asked viciously, getting to his feet.

“It’s a card for my little brother -” One of them said, and held it up. There was a dancing clown on the cover of the card. It looked happy and jolly, and held up a big banner that said ‘Happy Birthday’. It wasn’t at all menacing but it still put a shiver down your spine and you tuned to look away from it.

“Incendio.” Tom had his wand out in the short time that you had looked over your shoulder. Your mouth fell open as you realize what he had just done - he burned the card until it was nothing but ashes on the library rug.

“No magic in the library!” The sharp-voiced librarian said from behind her desk. Her eyes were like that of a hawk and her ears that of a dog or something, for she knew exactly who it was. “Mr. Riddle, out!”

With that same dark look in his eyes, he slid his books and parchment into his bag, and walked out, leaving a cold feeling in the room despite the fire.

“If you didn’t have a fear of clowns, my brother would get a birthday card this year.” One of the seventh years glowered at you. You stood up and packed your own things, then made a face over at the older boy, then rushed out to catch up with Tom, your mind trying to figure out what had just happened. Both you and Tom have run into these boys since their little prank, and there had never been this sort of reaction.

You saw the dark-haired boy turn a corner, so you quickened up your pace to catch up. “Tom!” You called out, making him slow down. You stopped in front of him, and poked his chest hard with your index finger. “Why did you do that? He wasn’t bothering you!”

“I told him that if he, or any of his friends, came near you with any sort of clown-themed thing, I’d do something to them. As it happens, burning a card is the least that I could have done.” Tom said, flippantly.

“You think that I can’t handle myself?” You questioned.

“You’ve proven that you freeze up if someone is even dressed as a clown, so no.” Tom took hold of your wrist and forced you to walk alongside him. “So I have to take care of you, for you.”

“Oh no you don’t! I fight my own battles, Mr. Riddle!” The anger that was bubbling in you, the bravado that came from being a Gryffindor, meant that you were going for the complete formal rather than informal. But you were not stupid enough to continue on when he gave you the dirty look he had given to the seventh years.

“Don’t ever call me that.” He spat. “You’re the only one here that I even remotely care about, so you’re mine and I’m going to take care of you until this stupid fear of yours is gone.”

“I don’t know whether to be flattered or offended.” You folded your arms in front of your chest, leaned on the heels of your feet and looked down at the floor. “Tom - if you want to be friends, lets be friends. Drop this whole clown thing. I will be fine. I’m not going to go into hysterics over a bloody birthday card, now am I?” You glowered.

“Friends?” Tom asked as if it were some sort of alien concept to him. The confusion and the aggression did not mix well, and his face showed that conflict. He muttered it again, wiped his mouth across his lips and then laughed. “Friends?” He said once more. If he was trying to scare you off, it wasn’t working. Rather, you stood still in your place.

“Friends.” You said firmly. “A level above acquaintance. But now thanks to you, we have to find a better place to study. Let’s go to the courtyard.”

With your backpack tight around your shoulder, you walked off in the direction of the beautiful outdoor courtyard which was blooming with Spring flowers. Tom watched you go, looking at the way that your hips swayed as you walked. As you took command.

“Unbelievable.” He said, but followed after like a disciplined puppy.

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6 Terrible Stereotypes (That Came From Positive Things)

You probably expressed the view that every slur and negative stereotype jump from the minds of history’s most bigoted people, like that time Sir Misogynist fabricated sexism whole cloth in 1204. But history is more nuanced than that. Sometimes inventions, positive trends, and good aims end up harming the exact people they were supposed to help. Take how …

Every Witch Stereotype Comes From Women Working A Cool Job

Picture your favorite witch. Unless you moved with ‘9 0s Sabrina, you’re likely picturing an old woman wearing all black, with a pointy hat, a broom, and maybe hovering over a black kettle. You might have a felines in the mingle as well. Everything you portrait was a relic of a kind of cool minute in history when women could earn a living doing a very concrete task: brewing beer.

Medieval people who didn’t know jack about how the Universe operated, how to read, or why someone should fabricate toilet paper as soon as possible understood at least one thing us sophisticated modern characters can agree with: Their clean drinking water was garbage. Which was why some of them skipped water wholly and booze brew instead. In a world in which hunting, warring, whoring, and maybe cobbling (?) took up most of the day, boys didn’t have time to wait near a kettle to make their own beer. So the brewers were usually( pause for dramatic impact) … females . i>

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You could find them if you knew the right signs. Typically she’d be near a big black kettle. And she’d have a cat to retain all the barley-eating vermin at bay. She’d likewise have an ale stake, which they were required by law to display. What’s an ale bet? A long wooden pole with a bunch of branches at the end, like a broom. And if you were out and about at the market, you could look for the big black pointy hat they wore to stand out while selling their brewskies at marketplace. Sound familiar yet?

David Loggan The green skin thing may have been from a hangover.

But everything started to change for lady brewers in the 1300 s. Men suddenly decided that they craved in on the rising booze market, which entailed girls had to move their ass out of the behavior. And when they refused? Well, there was a certain medieval saying about smart, strong-headed females: witch! She’s a witch! Burn the witch!

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