#but I'm very amused by the idea of a ghost attempting to haunt MY house of all places | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ofthecaravel · 2 months ago

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Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! (A Man After Midnight)

Danny Wagner x Sam Kiszka (kinda?)

Summary: Ghost hunter extraordinaire Danny Wagner takes on Kiszka Manor with a Ouija board and a dream. Luckily, the ghosts like him. One of them likes him a lot.

Tags: Ghosts, mentions of murder/death/disease/suicide, arguments, majority silly goofy I promise!!!!

Word Count: 3.6k

A/N: My submission for the GVF Writers Halloween Event organized by the wonderful @hearts-hunger! Such a fun idea and I'm excited to participate.

Prompt #2: Real Haunted House

“Hey guys! Welcome back to my channel! Today, I’m at the famous haunted Kiszka Manor to investigate its history and see if we can get in touch with the spirits that haunt these grounds!”

Danny took a confident step back as he grinned wildly at the camera, his hand moving from a wave to a theatrical gesture to accompany his continuing speech.

“This building has been abandoned ever since the mysterious string of deaths that plagued its halls finally came to an end in 1899 with the death of its last living inhabitant, Samuel Kiszka, the youngest member of the family that had lived in the house since it was built. The house was sold to new owners a few years later, but they lasted no more than two months before fleeing, claiming that the rampant paranormal activity was making it impossible to live there. Since then, countless paranormal investigators have braved a night within these walls, but nobody has ever made it to sunrise without experiencing something that they couldn’t explain.”

Danny reached off camera to grab the sleeping bag that he’d leaned up against the kitchen wall prior to shooting, giving it a little shake as he smirked.

“Tonight, I will be joining that brave league,” Danny explained. “And I’m going to catch it all on camera for your viewing entertainment. Stay tuned to see if I survive a night at Kiszka Manor.”

He ended the recording and let out a relieved breath, flipping the viewfinder in and setting the camera down on the table he’d laid his other equipment on. He startled when his movement jostled the sleeping bag and sent it unfurling down his torso. It swung down onto the dusty wooden floors, quickly gathering a cobwebbed dust bunny as he tried to shake it off. Danny grimaced and lifted it up, giving it another genuine shake.

“Aw, gross,” he said to himself, now much more quiet and meek that the camera was off. “Ew.”

In the parlor facing the kitchen doorway, the three spirits that did in fact haunt the house were watching Danny with an amused calculation. When they spoke, they spoke in synchrony.

“Dibs.”

After rolling his sleeping bag up with an annoyed huff, Danny ignored the chill running down his spine and the uncomfortable jerk of a nerve in his ear. A surely false sense of being watched started to overtake him the longer he stood in the empty mansion. And a mansion it certainly was, with three expansive stories just waiting for Danny and his camera to go exploring in…alone…at night…

Sometimes Danny wondered what his nights would be like if those silly ghost hunting videos he’d made in his college dorm hadn’t gone so viral and asserted him as a cornerstone of the Youtube ghost community. Maybe he’d be unwinding from a 9-5, lazy on the couch and warm from a home cooked dinner. Maybe there’d be someone there with him, laying their head on his chest and making light conversation.

But here he was. Standing with his hands on his hips in a pathetic attempt to gather any semblance of authority and trying not to shake in his shabby Nike sneakers as he noticed the retreating creep of daylight out of the corner of his eye. In a very old, probably asbestos filled house that was also probably full of ghosts that already hated his nosy guts.

Great.

Luckily for Danny, there was something untrue about his assumption. The ghosts did not already hate him. Actually, they were quite taken with him.

“Is it just me, or do these guys keep getting cuter and cuter?” Josh cooed, coasting through the kitchen to assess Danny from every angle. “They must be putting something in the water these days.”

“Cradle robber,” Jake laughed, following his twin through the doorway.

“Back off, I called dibs first,” Sam complained, trailing behind them in his unsteady float. “He’s already talked about me. I have claim!”

“Oh yeah? Then what’s this?” Josh teased, shimmying up next to the light switch and pressing his translucent fingers into the wall. He gave them a wiggle with a challenging smile as the overhead light started to flicker, causing Danny’s head to jerk in surprise and his eyes to widen as Josh made the bulb flit a few more times before slowly burning it out. Danny strode to the light switch and gave it a few desperate flicks, never taking his eyes off of the light.

“That’s a cheap trick,” Sam accused, his lip curling as Josh removed himself from the wall and straightened his lapels. “He deserves some distinguished communication.”

“He’s not going to be any fun at all,” Jake sighed, already seemingly bored by Danny’s anxious stature. “It’s only fun when they’re skeptics. Let’s just toss some crystals from the chandelier and slam a door and get him out as soon as we can.”

“Oh, come on, it’s been ages since our last little ghost hunter,” Josh lamented, flopping over sideways into the air and landing as if he’d fallen onto a bed. “It’s nice to have some company.”

“We might actually be able to talk to him, too,” Sam noted excitedly, directing his older brother’s attention to the all too familiar board sticking out of one of Danny’s tote bags. “Now that I call dibs on.”

“What, so you can ask him if he like-likes anyone?” Jake teased, wiggling his eyebrows at Sam and letting out a laugh when Sam made an incredulous sound and floated into the next room. If Sam had still been in his body, they all knew his cheeks would have been flushed.

“Okay, guys, it’s been about an hour since I arrived, and I’m getting ready here to hopefully talk to some spirits.”

Danny had set himself up in one of the bedrooms on the second level, the one at the very end of the hall with a grand window that let in enough light for Danny to be able to see the Ouija board he’d placed on the carpet in front of him.

“I still don’t understand how there’s people in the cameras,” Josh observed, pointing a finger at the viewfinder that Danny was reflected in. “I only see him. Is it like a telephone?”

“I couldn’t tell you,” Jake shrugged. He and Josh had settled on the four poster bed on the opposite wall, chatting amongst themselves while Danny lit a few candles and their younger brother giddily took post on the opposite side of the Ouija board. Sam was generally a pretty mopey ghost considering his circumstances, but there was something about this particular person that really piqued his interest. It was odd, especially to his brothers, but it was also too exciting to ignore.

For his brothers, it was odd for a different reason. It was concerning.

“Alright,” Danny started, clearing his throat and trying to avoid stalling any more. “Let’s do this.”

He set the camera down on the end of the bed right in front of where the ghostly twins sat cross legged, and they mimed holding it steady and pressing the buttons with a collective giggle. Sam scowled at them and gestured for them to get away from it, knowing that their interaction with the technology could provide Danny with some interesting warped footage that would take away from his prospective Ouija interview.

“I’ve set up camp here in the south wing of the house in the room that used to belong to Samuel, who I very briefly touched on earlier,” Danny explained to the camera, settling into the animated lecturing tone he adopted for his videos. “On the opposite end of the hallway are the rooms that belonged to his older brothers, Joshua and Jacob, who died a year before him.”

On the bed, Josh and Jake raised their hands like roll call, and Sam rolled his eyes at them.

“From what I’ve been able to find, it seems that Joshua contracted cholera in the spring of 1897 and suffered with it for a year before finally passing away in 1898, with his twin brother Jacob passing away just a few days later from an unrelated cardiac event that left their youngest brother alone in the estate.”

“Thank you again for that one, you guys,” Sam commented dryly. “That wasn’t super lonely or anything.”

“I still think it was very dramatic of you to die from heartbreak,” Josh snorted, nudging Jake.

“Who says it was heartbreak?” Jake teased right back. “I was simply so overcome with the joy of finally being free of you that I croaked.”

“I would like to try and run the spirit box in their rooms later on in the night, but I wanted to start in here,” Danny went on, setting the planchette on the board. “I couldn’t really find much about how Samuel died, except for that his autopsy reported some broken bones and internal injury. If I’m lucky, maybe he’ll tell me.”

“He jumped out a window!” Jake yelled, cupping his hands around his mouth.

“Shut up!” Sam snapped. They both exchanged faces before Sam turned to give his full attention back to Danny, who was very hesitantly placing his first and middle fingers on the planchette. He waited for Danny to trace three circles before adding his own fingers to the wood, wishing for a moment that he was still able to feel anything at all so he could feel the warmth of Danny’s skin. Now that was something Sam missed: warmth.

“Is there anyone here who would like to talk to me?” Danny asked gingerly. Whenever he asked, he always hoped deep down that nobody would answer.

Unfortunately for him, Sam was eager to talk, and he concentrated all of his energy on very laboriously sliding the planchette over to his answer.

YES

Danny stared at the board for a second, trying to zero in on the twitch of muscles in his fingers and finally deducing that his subconscious must have moved the planchette. Danny had had plenty of paranormal experiences with shadow figures and moving doors, but he’d never been lucky with the Ouija board before.

“O-kay, that’s great,” Danny squeaked out. “Wow. Okay. Yeah. Can you tell me your name?”

S A M

It took a lot of effort to move the planchette and Sam figured his nickname would be enough. He wanted to preserve his energy so they could talk for as long as he wanted to.

“Ooh, keeping it casual, I see,” Josh sang. “You’re best friends already.”

“Sam,” Danny repeated, his heart racing so fast he worried it would freeze up. “Are you the same Sam who lived here? Samuel?”

YES

“Wow,” Danny blurted, flustered from this revelation. “It’s nice to meet you, Sam. I’m Danny. You, uh, your house is very nice.”

“Danny?” Jake echoed in a thin, nasally mockery. “Good grief, what’s with names these days? What’s so bad about Daniel?”

Sam glowered at him before steeling himself to reply again.

T H A N K Y O U

“You’re welcome,” Danny answered, still dumbfounded.

He was talking to a real ghost. This was proof, if not for the camera but for himself. He knew his comments section would be filled with accusations, but Danny knew somewhere deep in his gut that it was not him rigging the game.

This was real.

“How old are you?” Danny asked, realizing with a panic that he wasn’t nearly as prepared as he’d hoped. He was really grasping for straws with his questions.

2 4

“Hey, so am I!” Danny laughed. Sam grinned and shivered at the sound. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard a laugh that wasn’t his own or his brothers, or one that wasn’t at the expense of their house from so-called ghost hunters far less courteous than Danny. Usually when Sam was around, people were screaming. But here was a laugh. It was a nice change of pace.

“Is it just you in the house?” Danny asked.

“Can I ask who else is here with you?”

J J

“JJ?” Danny repeated with a confused frown. “Who’s JJ? OH, do you mean your brothers? Joshua and Jacob?”

“Come on, Sam, give him a little more to work with,” Jake scolded.

“My arms hurt,” Sam whined. “It’s not my fault your names have so many letters. He figured it out, anyways!”

YES

“Oh, well, hello to them, too,” Danny greeted nervously, looking around the room for where they may be lurking. “They don’t want to talk?”

“Any reason why?”

E F F O R T

“It’s a lot of effort? To move it?”

YES

“Oh, so you can spell that but not Jacob? That’s too much work?”

“I’m sorry,” Danny apologized. “We can stop.”

When the planchette moved again, it was fast and aggressive.

NO NO NO

“Don’t scare him too bad,” Josh murmured, taking note of Danny’s tense body language and Sam’s frantic eyes. “Easy.”

“Okay, we’ll keep going,” Danny said, cringing at the slight shake in his voice. “Uh…sorry, I really wasn’t expecting a reply. I’m kind of blanking. You must get the Ouija board treatment all the time.”

“No? Really? I feel like that’s what everybody brings to haunted houses.”

Danny cringed again, breaking out in a cold sweat when he thought about what he’d said. Did Sam know he was dead? Was it a touchy subject? 2 years of ghost investigation and Danny was only now considering the ghost’s perspective.

Sam watched Danny stick his tongue in his cheek and visibly ponder potential questions. He felt very grateful that Danny couldn’t see how intensely he was staring. Sam made detailed notes of the spray of freckles across his nose and the Botticelli furrow of his brows, the way his hair grew long and gathered at his shoulders in a way that Sam envied and never would’ve been allowed to do in his time. If he listened closely, he could hear his heart beating, panicked and bloody and alive.

“What is death like?” Danny found himself asking, the words rushing out in a whisper. He couldn’t help himself. It was all he could think about in this place, with its silent halls and chatty spirits.

Sam smiled.

L I G H T

“Light?”

C A L M

“Sam,” Josh warned. “Watch yourself.”

H A P P Y

Danny felt a wave of relief pass over him at the affirmation. He’d long since forgotten that the camera was on and felt no sense of self consciousness at his little shiver of excitement.

“That sounds nice,” Danny smiled. “I think people worry that it’s all hellfire and empty spaces and whatnot, so that’s good to hear. I’m sorry you died so young. At least you avoided The Great Depression and stuff.”

“The who?” Sam said out loud to himself, earning a laugh from his brothers.

“Well,” Danny sighed. “I’m probably going to end this now. Is there anything else you want to tell me before I put the board away?”

Sam’s heart sank. He wasn’t ready to say goodbye. According to Danny, he’d be moving to the twins’ rooms next, and knowing them, they’d keep his spirit box chattering all night with their incessant scares. It wasn’t fair. Everybody always came to the house for Josh and Jake and their heart wrenching, freaky-deaky twin deaths and their boyish paranormal antics.

When was the last time somebody had come here looking for him?

“Tell him he needs a haircut,” Jake suggested. “Tell him you’re Satan.”

“They always go running with that one,” Josh agreed. “What’s the other one? ZOZO? No clue where that comes from but it sure freaked out those guys from Seattle.”

Sam ignored them. The only thing he could hear was Danny.

S T A Y

Danny chuckled nervously.

“Stay? Am I really such a great interviewer?”

S T A Y

Jake and Josh exchanged glances.

“Okay, Sam, time to hang up,” Jake demanded, leaning forward off the side of the bed and pulling on Sam’s shoulder. “We are not doing this again.”

“He’s different,” Sam insisted, shrugging Jake off and moving his fingers on the planchette so that they spliced with Danny’s. The temperature change was subtle, but it was enough that Danny felt his fingers go cold. He eased up on the pressure he’d been applying out of fear that he’d begun to cut off his circulation.

“You said that about the last two,” Josh reminded harshly, joining Jake’s effort to try and pull Sam away from the board. “Back off. We’ll spook him on the spirit box and he’ll be out by the sunrise.”

W A N T

Every alarm bell inside Danny’s gut was blaring full volume and he knew he needed to end the session and get going. He couldn’t help but keep glancing up at the empty space in front of him, trying to remember anything about Sam’s appearance from the online archives he’d used for research the night prior. It was only when he looked back down at the board did he catch a glimpse of something in his peripheral; a smudge of brown hair, pale skin…or was it the candlelight playing tricks on him?

“It’s been nice talking to you, Sam,” Danny blurted hurriedly, struggling to speak with such strong paranoia twisting in his stomach. “Goodbye, now!”

With an unheard frustrated shriek on Sam’s behalf, Danny circled the planchette three times again and pulled his hand back like it’d been resting on a hot stovetop. He let out a rattling breath of relief and turned back towards the camera, acknowledging it with a jolt and flashing the screen a relieved smile before scooping it off the bed.

“You heard it here first, folks,” Danny announced with a breathless chuckle, pushing his curly bangs off his forehead. “Your man Dan is in hot demand on the grounds of Kiszka Manor.”

“You’ve got to control yourself, Sam, for heaven’s sake,” Josh reprimanded.

Danny had left the room a few minutes ago, abandoning them with haste in favor of setting up motion detectors and a spirit box in Jake’s room at the other end of the hall. But the twins were in no hurry to go play with any of Danny’s toys yet.

“Now you know why we don’t like you to interact,” Jake added, his words landing like a slap on Sam’s stormy face. “You get too involved.”

“Why are you two the only ones who ever get to have fun?” Sam yelled, getting to his feet and facing the wall away from them with his arms crossed haughtily. “Why am I in trouble? I’m an adult! I’m 149 years old! Leave me the hell alone!”

“If we could get away from you, we would,” Josh spat. “Trust me. But we can’t. And you’re not allowed to ‘have fun’ because your idea of fun is KILLI-”

“I’VE NEVER KILLED ANYBODY!” Sam howled, his hands coming up like claws next to his face. He still refused to look at either of his brothers.

“Then would you care to find another explanation for our forlorn ghostly companions in our attic? I’m sure they’d love to hear it from you!”

“JUST GET OUT OF MY ROOM!”

“That boy should count himself pretty lucky he remembered to close the portal,” Jake sneered at Sam’s back. “We’re going to go give him a scare or two and then we’re going to leave him alone. And I recommend you do too. Do you hear me?”

Sam fell deathly silent, the weight of his fury draining any last remnants of warmth that the candle had left behind and plunging the thermostat as low as he felt.

“Christ,” was the last thing Sam heard muttered before he felt them leave the room, making sure to let the door slam behind them and conjure up a muffled scream of fright from Danny down the hall.

Once Sam was certain they were gone, he relaxed his incorporeal body out of his act of tense rage and turned to look over his shoulder at the door. He was wearing the lazy smile that he’d been unable to wipe off his face and had to hide from his family. That was a curse of his that he carried into his afterlife; he just couldn’t help but wear his heart on his sleeve.

Except that Sam didn’t have a heart anymore. It had died with him, of course, but he was pretty sure it had given its last beat on the day that he was left the only surviving member of his family. With a house too big, a backyard overpopulated with graves, and a town that offered only thoughts and prayers in his time of need, Sam lost his ability to feel. It had been so blank inside his chest that Sam figured the only explanation was that his heart had simply shriveled up and withered away. He’d gone looking for it in death but found himself somehow twice as lonely even with a reunion as sweet as the one he’d had with his siblings.

But now he’d found it again, that rhythmic pulse that he heard from the ribcage of a polite ghost hunter that had been delivered to his door by what seemed like the hand of God. He was sure of it, actually. Danny was here because he was meant to be Sam’s, meant to drive away all that endless, bleak loneliness and bring back his capacity to love.

Why else would have Danny done the closing circles on the Ouija board in the same direction as he had the first time? Every paranormal professional knew you ended things by moving the planchette in a counterclockwise direction. And Danny really seemed like he knew his stuff.

Sam smiled wider. Danny must’ve left the portal open on purpose. Just for him.

Down the hall, Sam could hear another dampened scream from Danny, no doubt from the twins tossing a ghostly buzzword in between radio waves. On the bed, Sam noticed for the first time that Danny had thrown his sleeping bag across its expanse, already unzipped and ready to receive him.

Them.

It may have been unbeknownst to everyone except for Sam, but the night had just begun.

#happy hallofreakinweekend #gvf #greta van fleet #danny wagner #sam kiszka #jake kiszka #josh kiszka #greta van fleet fan fiction #karoufiction

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rogue-durin-16 · 4 years ago

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THINGS NEVER GO AS PLANNED (Part I/VII)

"sleepless nights"

Summary: After Fred's death, George and Y/n lean on each other to carry on. This wasn't the most brilliant idea, though; George was pretty much in love with the girl, and Y/n— well, she had been dating Fred prior to the Battle of Hogwarts.

Pairing: George Weasley x Reader

Genre: angst

Tags:

Suggested by: @crispykittywitch

Things never go as planned: @sarcasticallywitty15 @beautyschoo1dropout @s1ut4georgeweasley @leovaldez37 @missmulti @weasleywh0r3s

Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog

Warnings: grief, nightmares, implicit PTSD

A/N: this is kind of... Fluffy(?) Somehow lmao. This story is based off this convo and these headcanons. If you wanna be tagged in the next parts tell me, and enjoy <3

Prologue: the aftermath

Part II: candy floss

Part III: shock therapy

Part IV: wrong name

Part V: the perfect excuse

Part VI: the downfall

Part VII: apart

Epilogue: I still love you

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

The first night I thought I was hallucinating; it wouldn't be the first time since the Battle that I had imagined someone was wandering around the flat.

The second night I was dubious.

The third night I was completely sure George was, in fact, staying awake.

So, when, during the fourth night, I heard him pass by my door for the nth time in two hours, I left the comfort of my soft blankets and stepped towards the door.

"What on earth are you doing?" George, who was already walking away in the living room's direction, jumped at my whispering.

He took a hand to his chest, shut his eyes and breathed deeply. "Are you trying to give me a heart attack, woman?" He leaned against the wall, his eyes still closed.

"Alright, sorry." I apologised. We kept whispering as if someone was sleeping in our house. "It's just— are you getting any sleep?"

His brown eyes finally opened, and as he stared into mines, I knew he, despite wanting to do so, couldn't find the strength to lie.

"I can't go near my room." He confessed, one of his hands running through his locks as his eyes welled up. "I— I tried, I just—" another deep breath, this one shaky.

I reached out to him from my door frame. The hallway wasn't that large, anyway; he only needed to slightly extend his arm and he would be able to touch my fingertips.

George looked at my palm hesitant, as if he didn't dare to hold it. "C'mon, I can't have you haunting our home for another night." With a resigned sigh, he finally took my hand, and I swiftly tugged him towards me, leading him into my room and closing the door behind us.

My dorm had a different atmosphere, and George felt it right away. Maybe it was because the room was certainly not the twins' making, or maybe because it was the furthest from Fred's, but in my room the air was less oppressive; it somehow felt comforting and homely.

I sat George down on the edge of my bed and took a proper look at him; his eyes were puffy and his nose red, but he was livid. I let my hand travel to his cheek, and he unconsciously leaned on it.

"I'm gonna go for a glass of water." I informed him, my fingertips wiping a tear that had spilled and was running down his face. "And I'll get your bags on my way."

"You don't have to." He muttered.

"Yeah, I have to, because you're not sleeping on this." I tugged on his overused shirt's collar. "Do me a favor; get a blanket from under the bed and place it on the divan." He nodded and complied, getting up as soon as I left the room.

GEORGE'S P. O. V.

I rubbed my eyes with my index finger and thumb whilst standing up and doing as Y/n had asked me to.

On the process of covering the divan with one of her soft, warm blankets, I realized there was no way on earth I would fit there.

"Why the puzzled look?" Y/n's voice breaking the silence so abruptly made me lost my train of thoughts. "Didn't mean to scare you." She apologised, handing me the promised —and very needed— glass of water, and throwing my bags over her bed. "You're not sleeping there." She clarified, motioning at the divan.

A frown formed on my face. "I'm not taking your bed."

"Yes, you are." Just as I was about to open my mouth and complain, she warned me, "Don't you argue with me, Weasley. We're both too tired for this."

"Alright, you win." I huffed, knowing it would be useless to try and talk some sense into her, and, in all honesty, I craved to lie down on a bed, and Y/n's looked so comfy and welcoming.

"What are you doing?"

"Going to bed?"

She walked to me tugging my hand so I was facing her instead of her mattress. "You're a mess." The girl mumbled under her breath, unbuttoning my shirt before I knew what was happening. "Off, now."

When she stepped away to reach into my bag, I kept doing what she had started until the piece of clothing was open. Y/n placed my pyjamas in front of me and quickly turned her back to my body before I could even remove my shirt.

"I really don't know why you keep doing that" the words were coming out of my mouth somehow more light-hearted, almost amused. "You've ran into me naked several times." I pointed out, completely undressed and reaching for my nightwear.

Y/n snorted. "That doesn't make it any less awkward." The ghost of a grin appeared on my face and I had to refrain myself from teasing her in any way. "Done?" I responded affirmatively un response and she turned around and removed my dirty clothes from her bed.

We both climbed into our respective resting places and threw our blankets over us before turning off the light.

"Y/n?" She gave me a sleepy hum, prompting me to speak. "Thank you." She mumbled something I didn't quite understand; my eyes closed surprisingly fast, and I fell asleep.

Something I was quickly regretting.

As comfortable as Y/n's bed was, and as much at ease as the atmosphere in her room had left me, the nightmares still haunted my dreams.

I jumped up with a yell I didn't know that had escaped my lips, sweating and panting, only to find Y/n close to the same state, somehow a little bit more calmed. We locked eyes, gleaming at the moonlight due to the not yet spilled tears.

I took a deep, ragged breath, and rubbed my face with both hands; I wasn't crying, I was just exhausted.

The weight on the bed shifted before Y/n's arms pulled me into a side hug; I leaned on her, throwing my own arm around her waist to pull her even closer. We fell over the bed like that, and didn't dare to move.

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

I woke up again. This time, though, no pants or tears were involved; I was calm and rested, something not very usual anymore.

After a moment, I realized the reason why I had woken up was probably the pain on the back of my neck. I blinked a couple of times in an attempt to shake the drowsiness off me before trying to switch my posture to one more comfortable.

I was then startled by a sleepy grunt that left Y/n's lips; I remembered then that we had somehow managed to fall asleep in each other's arms in the most uncomfortable position ever.

I managed to move her with me, without waking her up —and thank Godric for that, because the sight of her snuggled up to my side with our legs tangled and her hand on my chest was angelic.

A sigh escaped my lips when, due to the rays of sunshine that started to sneak into the room, she buried her face in the crook of my neck, hear breath fanning over my skin and sending chills down my spine.

Staring at the room's ceiling, I weighed my options; on the one hand, I could lay with Y/n a bit more and try to go back to sleep, but I risked falling into another nightmare; on the other hand, I could get up and go have a very needed shower, but I would have to leave the comfort of her arms and her room, and venture into our very own cemetery.

I went for the second option; I did crave a shower, and we couldn't let what once was the most cheerful flat in the Diagon Alley be covered by the darkness of grief forever.

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

READER'S P. O. V.

I was shocked —in a good way, of course— when, the next time my eyes fluttered open was not due to a nightmare, but to the bright, warm sunlight inundating the room.

George was nowhere to be seen, and I wondered if last night had been a dream. I dismissed that idea as soon as I propped myself up on my forearms, seeing his bags near the bed and his dirty clothes laying on the carpet.

The door creaked, announcing the ginger's arrival even before he hesitantly entered the room. "Morning." He offered me a small smile.

"Morning." I replied, mimicking his expression. "How long have you been up?"

"For about..." he checked the clock in my room, leaning against the door frame. "Half an hour. Just had a shower and I was gonna make some breakfast."

My smile grew a little wider at his newly refreshed attitude. "In high spirits, are we?"

He clicked his tongue, tilting his head to the side. "Turns out that getting some sleep does wonders."

"Indeed." I agreed, stretching before standing up and walking to him. "C'mon, I'll help you with that breakfast."

"I can do it myself." He assured me, walking right behind me in the kitchen's direction.

"Last time you tried to cook, you set fire to the table."

He groaned, grabbing a knife to slice the bread he had left on the counter. "You won't let me live that down ever, will you?" I shook my head no, turning on the fire before grabbing a pan. "I hate you."

"Liar." I placed my hand above the pan to check the heat before requesting, "Pass me the slices."

"I was gonna make you breakfast," he complied, nonetheless. "Not the other way around."

"Are you complaining?" I quirked an eyebrow at George, making him roll his eyes at me and turn to the cabinets consequently to reach for the mugs. "I was thinking—"

"You? Thinking?" Snort. "The world's ending." He stated dramatically, preparing the coffee.

"Twit." I flipped the nearly ready toasts before resuming my sentence. "I was thinking that we should reopen the shop." George stayed silent, leaning against the counter by my side. "I think it would... Help." I stopped again, carefully picking my words. "Getting the business running... I think— we can't— we need to do something, to stay occupied." I looked at him, awaiting for an answer, or at least a glance, but his eyes were fixed on his slippers. "I don't mean right now," he tilted his chin up to stare at the opposite wall, and then his head spun to me. "but I—"

"Y/n!" His eyes went wide and he swiftly pulled me away from the pan, tossing the burning bread into the sink. "Merlin's beard." I pinched the bridge of my nose, sighing in defeat. "Trying to outmatch my kitchen pyromania?" George would have successfully lightened up the mood if I wasn't on the brink of a mental breakdown.

Fred had always been the one to cook. George wasn't even allowed in the kitchen for obvious reasons, and I myself had the attention span of a fruit fly.

"Oi..." George pulled me to his chest and my arms instantly wrapped around his middle. "What about we get dressed," he began, stroking my hair. "And we go have breakfast at The Leaky Cauldron?" I nodded against him, and he squeezed me tight before slowly pulling away. "We can start restocking when we come back, yeah?" I nodded again, catching a tear with the back of my sleeve before it could run down my cheek. "Then let's go." This time it was him who stretched his arm, offering me his hand, which I instantly took.

As we made our way back to my room, it dawned on me this would be one hell of a ride.

"Wait! The coffee!" I tugged him back to the kitchen.

"Shit!" We both jogged back in, rapidly putting away the coffee pot.

"I think we shouldn't cook." I stated. "At all."

"Agreed." He breathed out.

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