#but somehow Snape is the ultimate problem??¿

[danadiadea]

The boggart argument never fails to make me giggle, because you know who else is "13 year old's biggest fear"? Minerva McGonagall, who is usually portrayed by the fandom as nothing less than a perfect teacher. And unlike Neville, who couldn't remember his parents tortured, Hermione almost got killed by a troll and a basilisk. And while Neville was laughing apologetically, Hermione screamed and stuttered.

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

what if ron hadn't drunk the poisoned mead early and instead he, slughorn and harry all drank at the same time when slughorn finished the toast? would harry have stayed dead? what would dumbledore have done then? (also wasn't he freaked out that he almost got his pet project killed early by mistake?)

Anon, you're mistaking Albus Dumbledore for Sheev Palpatine.

Sheev would have been at least mildly upset had Anakin died before his plans came to fruition (though not that upset, I imagine. It wouldn't be a game changer and I imagine he'd shrug his shoulders and say "drat")

Dumbledore's goal is to ultimately kill Harry Potter in such a way that he has no emotional culpability by setting things up such that Harry will see he has no choice but to kill himself.

If Harry dies early, in such a way as Harry not realizing he had to sacrifice himself to save the world, Dumbledore would be appalled, horrified--but on the other hand this solves kind of a big problem, doesn't it?

The thing about Dumbledore, is that I think he wants to like Harry, he wants to be the wise grandfather figure in Harry's life, but these are only things he wants to do that have nothing to do with Harry himself. Harry--I think Dumbledore doesn't actually like him very much as there's a number of times when Dumbledore gets... quite fed up with him.

Mostly, though, I'm just imagining what you're laying out and laughing because:

Once again, Draco has killed/harmed everyone but Albus Dumbledore, somehow

Slughorn, had he mistimed his sip, is now standing wide eyed in a room with two dead children who just drank the bottle he gave them and OH FUCK OH FUCK OH FUCK has to somehow do something so that this doesn't all circle back to him

Dumbledore has to convince himself that this is fine, this is great, and no this isn't his fault for letting Draco go off the rails all year in increasingly dangerous escalations to assassinate him. "Harry's noble sacrifice is an inspiration to us all" and er too bad about Ron Weasley I guess. Who is Ron?

Somewhere, Tom getting the news that Draco has accidentally killed Harry Potter, Slughorn, and Ron Weasley when trying to kill Albus Dumbledore. Somehow, Tom did not see that coming and... he stayed dead?

I think Harry probably is staying dead, maybe, though who really knows with him but on the off chance he doesn't--

Then we have Harry's "I didn't do it" dance as, once again, he is in a situation that from the outside screams GUILTY even though he genuinely didn't have a single thing to do with it.

... And Harry probably takes horrible revenge on Draco/Snape, whom he assumes are both involved with this, for the murder of Ron.

[olderthannetfic]

I always see people who have never been antis, talking about/questioning how some antis even ARE antis when you look at their taste in media - ie the ever famous joke of "Hannigram is #problematique" "but it's a show where he eats people" or whatever.

I thought I'd weigh in as someone who could, hypothetically, be called an ex-anti (which, thankfully, nothing ever really came out of it - it was just very 2014 keyboardwarrior-esque behavior of me being a chronically online young adult who would share posts in a group chat making fun of certain shippers, or reblog posts about how 50shades is The Most Problematic Media Ever to exist -- basically I was an anti with anti-lines of thoughts, but i never, like, a ran a Shipping Discourse Blog or whatever)

For me, personally, it was a few different things. I can now see how it's incredibly hypocritical that teenaged me shipped Light/L, while still thinking that Dramione was Bad And Abusive. It ultimately boiled down to a) being pretentious, and b) just not understanding media or what proshippers REALLY believed, with a side of c) not realizing that nuance exists. like i was pretty late to join tumblr, I think I immigrated here during PEAK "yourfaveisproblematic" era which definitely did have an impact on my opinions and my tastes.

to elaborate, a.) being pretentious. i mean this one just kinda goes without saying. "I engage in media in a way more intellectual way than you do, don't you know that? You're a filthy and disgusting person who writes Snape/Hermione because you're an actually disgusting pedophile IRL who would probably date your own student that you're abusing if you could. Meanwhile, I'm a very smart, good, and pure person. When I read Uncle Vernon/Harry, I'm doing it in a G-d honoring whump way that clearly condemns abuse, incest, and rape. Unlike YOU who only writes harmful stuff as a way to get people off :/"

(as an aside, i think this line of thinking will ALWAYS be present in fandom and popculture in some way, sadly. ie the recent trend of people hating on booktok bc the books are 'trashy' and how these porn addicts should read real classic literature instead.)

as for b.), not understanding media - i cannot emphasize enough that i was GENUINELY stupid and disconnected enough to think that proshippers REALLY WERE pro-All Of The Degenerate Dead Doves That They Wrote.

why did i feel this way? why did i understand that Lolita clearly isnt pro-pedophilia, but for some reason i thought that someone shipping weecest was? well, first of all, i think that fanfiction is (generally) seen as Less Serious than classic literature, and fandom is a fun place, so i guess i somehow thought that every fanfic/fanartist who wrote Problematic Things, especially Problematic Things that they portrayed as Sexy, really DID enjoy the thought of that Actually Happening To Real People.

and i think THIS is the bulk of why antis ARE antis. i'm not calling them all stupid - i do think BEING an anti is stupid, but at the same time, there are people who are truly smart and good-intended people who just have some really off color opinions about, like, homestuck ships or whatever. Lawlight is okay because notebooks that kill people don't exist so it's IMPOSSIBLE for the Harmful Aspects of Light/L to be romanticized! but schoolyard prejudiced bullies DO exist and are a REAL problem so Drarry is BAD (*truly completely unaware of the fact that there's 'realistic' aspects of the Light/L dynamic and 'unrealistic' aspects of Drarry - such as, for example, Hogwarts arguably being even MORE of a fantasy setting than DN is.*) I know that media literacy is the hot buzzword of the year to throw around in 2024, but, like, i really did not have media literacy.

as for c.), not realizing nuance exists - ok "nuance" might not be the best word here, but i dont know how else to describe it. like, each time ive typed the word "problematic" out in this ask, i've done so in a very tongue in cheek/ironic/retroactive way, but, like, those posts about how Everything Is Problematic, Including Your Fave ARE true. and i didn't like the fact that my favorite media or favorite person might've Made A Mistake! i need to Talk About Its Issues Because I'm So Betrayed That My Dear Sweet Comfort Media Would Do This To Me. I Need To Prove I Clearly Condemn It.

like, i legit morally could not justify reblogging a twilight post without adding in the tags '#this is my guilty pleasure it sucks that the books were so racist though' or whatever. Most people were lucky enough to avoid that line of thinking, but there was an actual group of people who felt a genuine need to virtue signal all the time, partly bc, hey, they WERE passionate about talking abt #issues in media, but also bc of a subconscious fear of If You Reblog A Singular Piece Of Hetalia Fanart, You're Literally A Nazi And Will Get A Callout Post Written About You.

and during all of this i was at the tail end of my high school experience (yes i know im younger than most of your audience, ha). i was going through A Lot emotionally, going through a lot of life changes, and lived in a very . . . interesting household/place where i couldn't do ACTUAL good in the world that i was passionate about. so to make up for the fact that i was genuinely in no place to do legit activism, clearly i had to save the gay community by arguing about johnlock queerbaiting or whatever.

^ and honestly i do think that is the position of most antis. theyre isolated and cant seem to do Enough in the Real Scary World so they have to resort to talking about how bad of a person someone is for "shipping abuse", bc theyre not in a situation where they could, for example, ACTUALLY fight the good fight to end abuse or raise awareness for it.

There was way more to it and way more that I could say, if I wanted to, but this post is long enough as it is and probably doesn't make much sense.

I feel bad for antis, honestly, or at least the ones who are antis in the way I used to be.

--

Oh yes, passionate young fools who think they can at least fix the internet if not their lives make up most of the cannon fodder. Some of the ringleaders are just mini dictators and wannabe cult leaders, but most anti-leaning types are just traumatized or clueless, even a lot of the ones who do serious damage and don't just mock shit in private with their friends.

[seriousbrat]

you said james changed but did he? no apology in sight... still tricking lily and going behind her back to hex snape.. leaving his wife and newborn alone in their secret hiding spot to mess with muggles..

genuinely lol what is this 'leaving their hiding spot to mess with muggles' thing, I think you're the second anon who has claimed something like that recently and it's like.... where lmao. when did that happen? who r these muggles? 😭

if you're referring to the prequel, that was almost certainly, like 100% certainly, before harry was born when lily and james were fighting for the Order along with the rest of the Marauders and not in hiding. This is what Lily says, years later, in her letter to Sirius:

James is getting a bit frustrated shut up here, he tries not to show it but I can tell -- also, Dumbledore's still got his Invisibility Cloak, so no chance of little excursions. If you could visit, it would cheer him up so much.

doesn't that imply he wasn't sneaking out? and if he had left the hiding spot in the past it was "little excursions" with Lily's full knowledge and approval, with the safety of the cloak. I don't see the big deal, and it's possible that Lily was leaving the house on occasion too when they had the cloak.

people are so determined to see things in the worst possible light it's kind of funny. It's not enough that James was a dickhead and a bully in canon, he has to be this insidious abusive master manipulator guy who somehow conned Lily "you make me SICK" Evans into marrying her and having a kid with him. Like, no offence but it's just not that deep.

We don't see how he changed because the story isn't about him, it's about his son, but there's plenty of evidence that he did, a BIG example being that a girl who couldn't stand the sight of him and was extremely vocal about the fact ended up marrying him. Something changed, and it's just highly unlikely that James, a fictional character, constructed an elaborate ruse behind the scenes that we see no evidence for to trick Lily, and every other character, into thinking he was an entirely different person. If that had been the author's intent for these characters who, btw, do not exist outside the text we're given, there would be proof of it. Rather, we're given evidence he 'deflated his head' and that lily fell in love with him and that they were happy together.

I've already said it but I don't think James not telling her about fighting with Snape (who, let it be said, at that point was also instigating) is a good thing. Obviously. It's dishonest and he should have told her. But I also think a likely reason he didn't tell her was not wanting to hurt her. That doesn't make it okay, but there can be problems and slip-ups and things to work through in a relationship without it being some big evil insidious manipulation.

Sev hid all sorts of things from her too, important things like "I'm thinking about joining the Death Eaters btw lol". People lie and hide things, especially teens. Maybe the simplest explanation here, rather than this weird jamespiracy thing, is that a seventeen year old boy was kind of shit sometimes but ultimately dedicated his life to protecting others, fought bravely in a war, grew tf up, and sacrificed himself to save his wife and child.

idk like to me it's not that deep, and it's continually bonkers to me that some snape fans will have wildly different standards for their innocent baby boy (idk him) than they do for every other character. bro did way worse stuff than not telling his gf he was getting into fights, james did worse stuff, and yet I still love them both and u wont convince me not to

[rekrappeter]

find yourself somewhere, somehow

pairing: fred weasley x fem!reader, slight cedric diggory x fem!reader

summary: you and fred are madly in love with one another, but have never expressed your feelings to each other. every one else knows though. what if that one secret ends up ruining the friendship you both have been trying to save?

warnings: mutual pining, inaccurate Harry Potter timeline, swearing, typos

notes: some of this was requested, some not. this is my 3rd time trying to post it, please give it some love, I actually quite like it <3

“I think I’m going to ask Angelina to the Yule Ball,” your lips macked together at your best friend’s words, letting them fall on deaf ears as you narrowed your eyes at the words on the page in front of you. You could feel that the twins’ gazes were on you, and you tried to suppress any form of annoyance or jealousy passing across your face.  A heartbeat passed before Fred Weasley spoke up again, “Did you hear what I said?” 

You looked up at the red-haired boy sitting in front of you, your attention being pulled away from your study notes that you were carefully highlighting. “You were talking to me?” you asked, feigning confusion. 

Fred gave you a puzzled look, his brows creasing together, “Who else would I be talking to?” he said, his voice lowering as Snape strutted by the table you were sat at. You all turned your attention to your parchment quickly, letting him pass before Fred tapped the top of your book to get you to continue the conversation.

“George,” you deadpanned, your eyes flickering to his twin. 

“I heard about this all night long,” George said, distaste evident in his voice and he rolled his eyes swiftly. You stiffened a giggle, watching Fred knock his shoulder with his, his own amusement evident in his smirk. 

“So, what do you think?” Fred beamed, a twinkle in his eye. 

“I-” you paused, glancing down the table at Angelina who was laughing quietly at something her friend said. There was no doubt she was beautiful, no doubt that she was good enough for your best friend and you would be ecstatic for Fred if she did accept his offer. You would be, really, if it wasn’t for the massive crush that you harbored for him since you were twelve years old. You remembered the moment it happened; he was trying to teach you how to play quidditch outside of The Burrow during the winter holidays and something went horribly wrong when you were two meters off the floor - you lost your nerve and tumbled off the broom, but Fred was there underneath it to soften your blow. You remembered staring into his eyes deeply, your mouth parting in shock at the sudden wave of feelings that welcomed you when you were so close to him. He ended up dislocating his elbow that day, but he never blamed you for it. 

You felt someone nudge your hand, bringing your gaze from Angelina back to Fred. You plastered on a fake cheerful grin, nodding your head excitedly, “Go for it, you will be great together.” 

Fred was waiting for your blessing, and within minutes of you edging him on, he had secured a date to the ball happening in two weeks’ time. For the remainder of the study hall, you had to listen to Fred gush about Angelina and you had to do everything in your power not to groan and lose your cool. You avoided eye contact with George, knowing that he’d give you an unimpressed look. He knew how you felt about his twin, despite you never truly admitting it to him. You’d brush off his question and change the subject, but it wasn’t hard to see the admiration you had for him. 

“Do you have a date yet?” George questioned, looking down at you. You were walking through the castle on the way to the great hall, the twins on either side of you. He hadn’t heard you talk about going with anyone or thinking of asking anyone. In truth, you had hoped that both you and Fred would be dateless the day of the ball and ultimately end up going together - but that plan was ruined. 

You pursed your lips, keeping your stare forward as you shook your head. “No, I don’t.” 

Fred draped his arm around your shoulder, you stumbled slightly at the heavyweight. “Imagine we have dates, and you don’t, who would have thought?” You knew that he was only teasing and sometimes he never uses his brain before he speaks, but that didn’t lessen the irritation that exploded inside of you. 

“Shut up,” you snapped, your retort falling in between his rambles of how surprised he was that you didn’t have a date. You pushed yourself away from him and stormed off in the direction of the common room, not feeling hungry anymore. Fred gawked at your figure rushing off, glancing at George to ask what was wrong with you. 

“You’re an idiot, that’s what’s wrong with her,” George sighed, shaking his head at his twin. He walked into the Great Hall, Fred trailing behind slowly. “Where are you going?” George turned to face him, placing a hand on his chest. 

“To-”

“Don’t be stupid, you upset her so go fix it,” Fred sighed, knowing that he was right. He twisted on his heels and walked the familiar way to the Gryffindor dorms. Exasperating the password, he jumped through the entrance and spotted you sitting down on one of the love-seats. The common room was empty as expected, the light from the fire gleaming across your face. When you looked up at him, he saw the tears streaming down your face just before you wiped them away quickly. He hated the fact that he made you cry, but sometimes he just couldn’t control how he rambled on. He never thought about how his words affected you because often you would join in on his jokes but he didn’t know that this would be a sensitive subject for you.

“What do you want?” you mumbled into the sleeve of your jumper, bringing your legs up to cuddle into your front. Fred sat down beside you, wrapping his arms around you. He ignored the pain in his chest when you pushed him away from you, shuffling down the couch slightly. 

“y/n,” Fred whined, “I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t think it was a big deal.”

“The fact that I don’t have a date to a once in a lifetime event? Yeah, it’s not a big deal, Fred.” 

“You still have plenty of time to find one,” he said, “It’s not for another two weeks.”

“I don’t want to be someone’s last resort,” you cried, the emotions getting the better of you, “I wanted someone to be excited to go with me.” You looked up at your best friend, your vision slightly blurry from the tears forming and he looked like a lost puppy staring back at you. Fred was never one to be good with comforting you when you got upset, it was usually George who was the twin you’d go to for problems. Fred was great as a distraction, he’d bring you out and do something fun with you. This was new territory for him. 

Fred wrapped his arms around you again, and this time you let him. He sighed in relief letting his head fall on top of yours. “I’ll take you, I’ll forget about Angelina.” 

You laughed, rolling your eyes with an effort, “That’s not what I want, Fred.” 

“You don’t want to go with me?” He said, a teasing taunt in his tone. 

Placing your hands on his chest and pushing yourself up to look at him, you ignored the way his eyes followed your hand and trailed up to your face. His lips parted slightly, and he felt the sudden urge to close the gap between your lips but he refrained himself from doing so. Fred wasn’t the most observant person out there, but he knew that kissing you wouldn’t help the situation. “You know I would love to go with you but you asked someone else first,” you tried to play it off as teasing, but the sorrow was evident. Fred sighed, nodding his head, and the long strands dangled over his eyes. Giggling, you brushed them away with your fingers, letting your touch linger. “You need to cut all this.” 

“You don’t like it?” Fred pouted, his bottom lip jutting out. 

Your eyes scanned his face, the soft look in his own orbs making you wonder if you ever felt the same way about you that you did him. Considering that you’ve been friends for years without anything happening, you came to the conclusion that it was just a one-sided thing. You were the pathetic one head over heels in love with your best friend. “Your hair looks good anyway.” 

“Whoever asks you to the ball will be one lucky bitch,” Fred gleamed, jumping up from the couch and pulling you up with him, “I’m starving!”

The next few days passed with little memory of the conversation between you and Fred. Everything went back to normal; the trio that consisted of yourself, Fred and George returned back to being impractical jokers and the comments about not having a date to the Yule Ball became nearly nonexistent. With the Ball drawing in quickly, you tried your best to hide the panic that was looming inside you. It wasn’t a big deal to show up alone, if that’s what it would have to result in but it would be nice to be able to dance with someone while your best friends are dancing with their dates. You started to write up a list of potential candidates but from a discussion in Charms with a Ravenclaw, everyone that you thought you could ask already had a date. 

It was like everyone knew that you didn’t have a date to the biggest event to ever happen at Hogwarts. It was the sympathy looks from first-year witches, and snarky chuckles from sixth-year Slytherins that had their dates since the ball was announced. With a simple roll of your eyes, you smile regardless of what they think of you. If it resulted in you having to dance alone or in a group, you didn’t care. The Yule Ball was merely two days away and with a dress picked out, you couldn’t even think about the effort of having to change the colour to match some random guy’s bowtie. 

You had excused yourself from the Gryffindor common room where your friends were gathered around to go to the Owlery to send the letters that were piling up in your bedside drawer. “Do you want me to go with you?” Fred hollered as you were dunking out the entrance. 

“No, I’ll only be quick.” You called back, and started the short journey. A feverish chill had settled across the castle, people were on edge with the unknown of what the Triwizard Tournament could bring, and yet the bubbling murmur of excitement for the ball still settled over the fear and apprehension. You jumped up the steps, leaping two at a time but what you didn’t expect was the top step to be covered in ice. The moment your foot landed on the step, you knew you were done for. A squeal passed your lips and you were on route of tumbling backwards down the stairs, just as a hand grasped your wrists and pulled you up. Your breathing was heavy, ragged, as your life flashed before your eyes. 

“Woah there,” A deep voice interrupted the memory of when you were five years old. You opened your eyes and met the stare of Cedric Diggory, his grey eyes wide. His pink lips curled into a smile of relief, and he helped you steady yourself. “That would have been devastating.” 

You shook your head in shock, your eyes falling down the long stairs that you were almost laying at the bottom off, surely acquiring some broken bones on the way. “Th-thank you, Cedric,” you smiled at your saviour, before glancing down at how his fingers were still wrapped around your wrist. 

“Oh, sorry,” he mumbled, pulling back and taking a step away from you. “H-how are you? I haven’t seen you since-”

“The World Cup,” you finished, nodding your head at the memory, “I never thought Hogwarts was that big until this year, it’s filled with students now,” you mentioned, taking into consideration the extra students that were welcomed to Hogwarts at the start of the year, “I’ve seen you of course, you’re the big celebrity this year.” 

A light blush danced across his cheeks and you weren’t sure if it was the wind or your words having the effect on him. “I wouldn’t call myself a celebrity,” he chuckled, running his fingers through his brown hair. 

“You were really great in the first task, I did go looking for you but you were in hospital because…” you trailed off sentence, watching Cedric grimace at the memory of getting burnt by the dragon during the very first task. You slowly started to walk around Cedric to the entrance of the owlery, “I have letters to post, so I better get going… but best of luck for -”

“Do you have a date for the Ball?” Cedric blurted out, the cool composure that you were so used to seeing him dawn on gone. He let out a shaky breath, the cold air creating a cloud in front of him. 

You chuckled slightly, “Haven’t you heard? I’m the only sixth year that is completely undateable.”

“Well, not the only sixth year,” Cedric blushed again, he gulped, making his Adam's apple bobble slightly. 

“I thought you were going with Cho,” your brows creased in confusion. You remembered the conversation with Hermione and Ginny from nights ago when you were quickly brainstorming the last single men in sixth year that could potentially ask you out but Cedric was linked with Cho Chang, much to your dismay. 

“I was…” Cedric sighed, “But she called it off last night, s-she wasn’t comfortable going with me as a champion and have all eyes on her.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry about that.” 

“Would you be my date?” 

“Me?” you gawked, looking around for the twins to pawn this off as some sort of joke but your red-haired friends were nowhere in sight. 

Cedric nodded, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “I would have asked you sooner, but I kind of thought you’d be going with Fred and when I heard that he asked Angelina, I was a bit confused.” 

“Myself and Fred are just friends,” you smiled, “B-but I’d love to go with you, Cedric. It’d be a shame for both of us to go alone when we can go together.”

You returned to the Gryffindor common room with a large smile on your face. Your friends were still lingering around the fire, trying to get the warmth into them after having Quidditch practice after their classes. Fred stretched over the couch, looking over it with hooded eyes, he must have been sleeping. “What took you so long?” 

You swatted his legs off the empty cushion beside him, and took a seat before his legs draped over your lap and you sighed in content. “Bumped into someone, guess who has a date to the ball?” you teased, a smirk tugging at the side of your lips. That gained the attention of Harry and Hermione who were studying, Hermione’s ears perking in excitement. 

“Who?” 

“You’ll see,” you teased, giggling at the yells of protest. You glanced over at Fred, who was unnervingly quiet. “You okay?” you mumbled, placing your hands on his legs and pulling at his leg hairs playfully. 

Fred didn’t answer straight away, his eyes scanning your face before he nodded, “Who is it?” 

“You’ll see,” you repeated, chewing on your bottom lip. 

“You’re not even going to tell me, your best friend?” 

“Nope,” you popped, a yawn passing your lips. You ignored Fred’s dramatic pout, moving his legs off your lap to lay down on the couch beside him. It was normal for you to do this, but something about doing it now made you tense. You couldn’t pinpoint it but when his hand rested on your hip to make sure you didn’t fall off the edge, you felt dizzy and lightheaded. You closed your eyes tightly, but when you breathed in, all you could smell was Fred’s aftershave. It wasn’t strong but it was enough to make you woo. 

Fred watched you softly, how your features became relaxed the moment he placed his hand on your hip and he wondered if he was being foolish not making you his. He constantly ignored his brothers pestering, even Percy had confronted him one christmas. “Are you excited now?” He breathed out, watching your eyes flutter open. 

“I was always excited, but now I know I won’t be left alone when you’re off dancing with your date,” you replied. It came out more snappy than you expected and judging from the taken back look in Fred’s eyes, you knew he took it in the way you didn’t want it to be taken. 

“Look, I did offer to take you-” Fred pressed but you shook your head, dropping your forehead onto his chest. 

“Can we not get into this? It doesn’t matter anymore, we’re friends, Fred. You shouldn’t feel obliged to take me to dances, we’re not kids anymore.” Fred’s face dropped into the crease of your hair, breathing in the scent of your shampoo and he nodded shortly. You both lingered in each other’s body, ignoring the gaze from your friends. George looked at Ron, giving him a pointed look and Ron shrugged his shoulders in return. It was obvious you were both so in love with each other, and neither of them knew why you were delaying the inevitable. 

Fred’s eyes scanned the crowd that were gathered in the Great Hall, that was overly decorated in white fairy lights and drapes that turned the bland gold room into a beautiful, magical event. Despite the gorgeous angel standing next to him, a wide smile on Angelina’s face, he couldn’t stop himself from looking at you but you were nowhere in sight. The worry started to settle over him, his overalls becoming slightly sweaty. “Is that y/n?” Angelina’s voice tore through his thoughts, his eyes following to where she was pointing. 

His mouth fell open at the sight of you, a wide smile on your face as your arms linked with Cedric Diggory’s, who was leading you to the dancefloor. His eyes scanned your body, his breathing hitched at how beautiful you looked. He knew Ginny said you were stunning in your dress but he didn’t believe how gorgeous you were until he saw you himself. 

“Wow, she’s beautiful,” Angelina whispered, eyes flickering between Fred’s face and your figure. 

“Yeah, she is,” Fred breathed out, his grip tightening on her waist. 

“Why didn’t you ask her?” Fred’s attention fell from his best friend to his date, confusion sweeping across his face and Angelina rolled her eyes. “Fred, everyone knows that you’re in love with her.” 

“Wh-what?” he sputtered out, but he didn’t argue any further. He knew by the pointed look that his date gave him that he wouldn’t be able to charm his way out of this situation. His shoulders deflated and his eyes flickered to your smiling face, his stomach churning at the sight of Cedric’s hand resting on your lower back as he spun you around elegantly. 

Angelina stepped towards the dancefloor, following the lead of everyone else, and started to lead Fred in the moves before he took over. His red hair was brushed around his face, and his pout grew with each second passing. “It’s not too late to tell her how you feel.” 

“That’s the thing, Ang, it is.” 

“Fred, don’t be so naive. She’s in love with you too, it’s so bloody obvious,” Angelina chuckled, shaking her head in disbelief. Fred spun her around to the beat of the music, lifting her off the floor like he’s practiced it so many times. Fred was trying to come up with some sort of joke to maneuver the conversation topic from you but his mind was blank - actually, the only thing that filled his mind was you. The way you laughed so loud, the way your eyes twinkled underneath the torches, how you’d devour a cheese burger in half a second, how you were always so keen to participate in their jokes but always the first to flee the scene in fear of getting caught. “I don’t know if I should be offended or-” 

“I’m sorry,” Fred cut her off, feeling slightly guilty for using her as a decoy. “Let’s enjoy tonight.” He announced, taking one more look at you for the night, just missing the longing gaze that you were sending his way. There was no one else you’d rather be dancing with than him, despite the Hufflepuff prefect making you feel extra special tonight, his attention solely on you. It just wasn’t the attention you yearned for. 

The days following the Yule Ball were a mixture of madness and chaos. They blended into one as you were whisked away to the Burrow for Christmas break with your second family, only minutes after seeing your own family for the first time since the start of the new school year. You always knew how hectic this time of year got but you never minded it much, you always enjoyed being surrounded by the Weasleys and the smell of Molly’s homemade double chocolate chip cookies made it all worthwhile. Except this year was slightly different. 

It was always Fred that picked you up from your front porch, but this year it was George. You always shared a room with the twins while you stayed in The Burrow, but this year you were lodging with Hermione and Ginny. Fred was always the first person to run down the stairs and take the seat next to you in the morning for breakfast, but this year the seat was always the last one vacant. It wasn’t only you that noticed this either, Ginny and Harry had been whispering about it all day long, Ron and George pondered what could be going on between the two of you, and it was Hermione that confronted you about the odd behaviour. But you only had one answer, ‘I haven’t a bloody clue what is going on’. 

After the vaguest of conversations with Hermione, you trotted up to the twins’ room knowing that George was outside helping Arthur with the chickens he wanted to invest in. Fred was nowhere to be seen, the best bet would be his bedroom. You knocked quietly on the door, peeking your head through the open gap and seeing Fred laying on his stomach in the single bed. The image was laughable, his long legs dangling from the edge of the bed and the quilt a thousand different colours kicked to the floor. His arms were tucked underneath his pillow and his face was pointed away from you. 

“Freddie?” you whispered, trying to get his attention. Fred’s eyes squeezed tightly at your voice and he tried desperately to calm his breathing. Maybe if you thought he was asleep, you’d leave him alone. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to speak to you, it was more so the fear of blabbering out how he truly  felt about you and the prospect of ruining years of friendship. He heard his bedroom door click shut after seconds of silence, and he was just about to twist towards it when he heard your sock clad feet shuffle through the room. “Freddie?” you asked again, but he didn’t budge.

You sighed and chewed on your bottom lip nervously, you didn’t want to wake him up. He wasn’t the friendliest person after being bothered while sleeping, but your heart ached for feeling his warmth again. You unconsciously found yourself laying on the smallest bit of bed that was available to you, your arm wrapping around his torso to hold yourself up. His back was to your chest, and he shuffled slightly to let you get comfortable but you didn’t pay much mind to it. You nudge your face into his t-shirt, letting his scent take over all your senses and you place a soft kiss on the material. “I miss you,” you whispered into the silence. 

Fred was staring blankly at the wall, his heart hammering against his chest as your fingers grasped his t-shirt with all their might. He reached for your hand, bringing it to his lips and kissing it softly. Your breath hitched in your throat but you didn’t say anything. You just lay there next to him in peace and quiet, your uneven breaths mixing with his. 

“y/n, this letter is for you,” Ron called from across the table, holding an off-white envelope. You looked up from the bacon and scrambled eggs on your plate in shock, you never got letters sent for you to The Burrow. Your parents would usually call to check up on you and all of your close friends were gathered around the table. 

“Who’s it from?” Fred wondered as he occupied his usual seat next to you. The previous night where you fell asleep next to him brought everything back to somewhat normal. He was finally acknowledging you in the mornings and spending his time with you. You shrugged, tearing the letter open and your eyes widened at the signature written so beautifully at the bottom. “Cedric Diggory,” Fred scoffed, a roll of his eyes gaining the attention of his brothers around him. 

“Cedric Diggory wrote to you?” Ginny gleamed, her eyes widening in delight as a contrast to Fred's displeased look. 

“What did he say?” Hermione asked. You were about to stand up from the table, and excuse yourself but from the peering eyes of your friends, you knew you wouldn’t get far without their curiosity minds following you. 

“Just read it aloud,” Harry cheered, and he frowned quickly when Hermione shot him a look to be quiet. But Ron soon joined in and it was like a dominios effect, you sighed and gave in, clearing your voice to read the letter for the first time. 

“Dear y/n,” you started, interrupted already by Fred’s sigh of annoyance, “I had tried to contact you at your family home but they have directed all my calls to Weasleys’ household. I have tried several times to get in touch with you but seem to be having trouble - I have left messages. I hope this doesn’t come across as desperate or obnoxious but I would thoroughly enjoy it if you were to accompany me to Hogsmede this weekend. I look forward to hearing from you..” you paused, before whispering the last part, “yours, Cedric Diggory.” 

There was a deafening silence as you finished the last syllable, the words blurring in front of you on the parchment as you tried to make sense of the letter. Of course you had a great time at the ball with Cedric, but you never had any intention of getting romantically involved with him. Not when your heart was obviously set on someone else. Your mind was brought back to the kitchen of the Weasleys’ when the girls in front of you gasped out loud, squealing as they grasped for the letter to reread it. The boys lost interest the moment you started to speak, except for Fred, who fell back in the chair and began finishing his breakfast. 

“What is your secret?” Ginny gawked. “Cedric Diggory wants to go on a date with you!” 

“I-It’s not a date,” you mumbled, sitting back down. The tension between you and Fred was back, the hour of normality that you were blessed with vanished. “It’s not a date,” you repeated, but your words were aimed at Fred, who creased his eyebrows in confusion. 

“It sounds like a date to me and a bloody good one at that,” he flashed you a smile, but you could see beneath it. Something was different between the two of you, like the aura has shifted and you’ve become one. It didn’t make sense but the way Fred was feeling, you could feel it too. How his heart was hammering and his stomach was infested with annoying butterflies. It’s how you felt when you looked at him. 

“We have plans for the weekend,” you reminded him. 

“Cancel them, it’s okay.” 

“No, Fred, it’s a tradition. I can’t just cancel them.” 

Fred sighed, tidying up his plate and standing up from the table. You followed his lead and left the group to analyse the letter, you went to call him but he swiftly turned around. Your chest hit his, his taller figure hovering over you. “I’ll make it easier for you, I’ll cancel them. There, you’re free this weekend.”

“What are you even talking about?” you sighed, frustration getting the better of you. “I never said I wanted to go out with him.”

“Why wouldn’t you not? He’s Cedric freakin’ Diggory!” There was no room for arguing, no matter what you threw at him, he’d have a comeback so you just sighed and gave in. Waving the white flag of surrender for the day and it wasn’t even ten in the morning. 

There was a lake not two miles from The Burrow, it was hidden beyond trees taller than churches and you’d have never found it if it weren’t for the adventurous boys that you grew up with. You were supposed to be nestled in the corner of a tavern with the Hufflepuff Quidditch Captain, sharing a warm butterbeer and having that first date jitters but instead you found yourself looking over the frozen lake. It was always frozen at this time of the year. You had a large black coat on, fake fur decorating the hood as you breathed out and created your own night time clouds of air. You had your skates by your feet, too cold to change into them.

Every year on the last night before returning back to Hogwarts, it was a tradition with you and Fred to ice-skate across the lake. It was the one time that you were guaranteed to feel free and relieve any stress that has been building up on your shoulders. But it didn’t feel the same alone and you couldn’t bring yourself to put your skates on. You fell back against the grass that was decorated in white snow from the downpour earlier that day, letting out a strangled scream that you’ve been holding in. 

“Bloody hell, what was that?” A grin erupted on your face and you sat up, looking over your shoulder to see Fred standing there in a brown tattered coat, his skates dangling from his fingers. He had a yellow bobble hat on his head, his hair tucked beneath it. 

“You showed,” you smiled, kicking your shoes off and pulling your skates on with great difficulty. Fred followed your lead, sitting down next to you. 

“Of course I did.” 

You sighed, strapping the laces, “I wasn’t sure if you would, you’re acting really strange lately.” 

Fred gave you a sympathetic glance, a small smile tugging on his lips as he watched you stand up and stretch your gloved hand out to help him up. He took it, using his strength to lift himself up so you didn’t have to use a muscle. You slowly made your way to the iced surface, letting Fred test it out and he skated away in circles. “Freddie,” you called back, pouting slightly. 

A raspy laugh left his lips as he shook his head in disbelief and came back to you, letting you grasp onto his arm as you took your first steps onto the ice. “You do know you can skate, right?” Fred asked.

“I just need your help for the first five minutes, you know that,” you chuckled. You both skated around the nature-created rink, silence settling between you. The moon overlooked the two of you skating around, hand in hand - the perfect pair in a state of ignorance. Fred let go of your hand, skating in front of you and you couldn’t help but laugh as he showed off his skills. His lanky legs are quite talented at twisting around one another. Fred looked up at you, your smile beaming at him and that’s when he lost his balance, tripping over his own feet and tumbling to the ice. Your eyes widened but you were going to quick to stop and you fell over his limbs, your chin banging off the ice. 

“Fuck, are you okay, y/n?” Fred scrambled over to you, his hand cupping your chin and seeing the blood seeping from the cut. His worry was cut short when you erupted into a fit of unstoppable giggles, ignoring the pain that soared through your face. The image of Fred’s face falling flat on his ass will forever be sketched into your mind now. “Shut up,” Fred huffed, his hand dropping from your face. 

You crawled over to him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as you tried everything in your power to stop from giggling but you couldn’t. It got to the point that your laughter became so contagious that Fred’s chest began rumbling with his own laughter. You sat in the middle of the ice rink, asses soaked and cuts on your face as you laughed for what felt like hours. 

“I missed this,” you announced in a heavy sigh, your stomach hurting from laughing so much. 

“I’m sorry for acting like an idiot the last few weeks,” Fred said. 

“What was the story with that?” you asked, reaching to fix the hat that was crooked on his head. His hands wrapped around your wrist, his gloves fingers maneuvering to hold your hands close. Your eyes connected with his, your breath hitching at the sight of his brown orbs telling you everything before he spoke a word. “Fred..”

Fred sighed, dropping your hands and scrambling to stand up. You followed his movements, skating to where your shoes and belongings were left. His broad shoulders were slouched as he got off his skates and you weren’t sure if he was going to walk away again. “Fred, please don’t shut me out again.” 

“I-I-” Fred mumbled, his eyes screwing shut before fluttering open again, “Why didn’t you go out with Cedric tonight?” 

The question took you off guard, confusion evident in your expression. “I told you already, we had plans! We do this every year!” 

“You cancelled plans with a future boyfriend for me?” Fred asked, trying to clarify the situation. 

“What are you talking about, Fred? We’re best friends, I’d always choose you over-” 

“Is that all we’ll ever be?” The words made you dizzy, the question heavy with every emotion you’ve ever felt for Fred. You looked up at him, your socks getting soaked as you stood there in shock, your shoes forgotten about. “That… That question came out more forced than I wanted it to, but I just need to know, will we ever be more?” 

“That’s not for me to decide…” you whispered, seeing his expression falter, “You’ve never- you’ve never told me how you felt about me.” 

“I thought I made it obvious.”

You scoffed, shaking your head, “By taking someone else to the Ball? Or by encouraging me to go on a date? Or when we were thirteen and you told George that you only seen me as a sister-”

“Okay, they weren’t my finest moments, I’ll admit that..” Fred wanted to slap himself for being so stupid and naive, “But do you feel the same way that I feel about you?”

“If you think that I’m the most amazing person in the world, that you can’t live without me, and that you’re sick of spending every moment with me and not being able to kiss me… then yes, I feel the same..” you breathed out the words, your chest beating rapidly. When Fred processed the words, a large grin filled with relief washed over his face. He took a step closer to you, and you took it on yourself to close the gap between your bodies. He dipped his head and connected his lips to yours, his hands placing themselves respectfully on your waist as you wrapped around his shoulders. The kiss wouldn’t have been deemed the most magical - your teeth hitting off one another and your tongues sloppy mixing together, but when he pulled away and laughed, your heart deemed it to be the most magical moment in your life. 

[adorerdraco]

Bugs and Hisses ✧ Draco x Reader

Summary: Halloween with Draco <3 Friends into BOO’s (teehee)

Warnings: mild drinking nothing tooo crazy but not encouraging it !

Words: 5.2K

A/N: this is my first one shot in like a month and i ofc had to do something for halloween even tho im a tad late but its still a halloweekend KIND OF !!!!!!! </3 I HOPE ITS GOOOD

“No, it’s a stupid holiday.”

Draco crossed his arms in a stubborn child-like way, a scowl on his face as he stared forward towards the front of the class where Snape was giving a lecture on the small but vicious Erkling creatures.

“Come on, please,” you pleaded quietly. Your gaze kept flickering between your easily-irked professor and the pouting blond beside you, hoping that in a few short seconds you would get the answer you were hoping for that way you could get back into your notes instead of possibly getting a detention or losing house points.

In all the years you’ve been friends with the Prince of Slytherin, you learned that he loathed the holiday and any festivities that came with it. Every year, you beg him to go out to one of the many parties that are thrown ranging from small gatherings to full-on blowouts or just do something halloween related with you, but he always refuses. His reasoning, as he put it, was that he was simply ‘too mature to be dressing up as a foul creature.’

You knew he mostly spent the holiday either asleep in his dorm or walking around aimlessly with Crabbe and Goyle to target unsuspecting first-years after the big feast but this year, you finally had enough of his anti-halloween agenda. You wanted to spend the evening and hopefully night with him laughing by your side and showing him how fun everything could be, but most of all - you wanted to see him in a costume.

“Please, if you go I will never ask you for anything ever again,” you tried again once Snape had turned his back to the class. 

Draco pursed his lips as though he was genuinely considering it, his eyes still locked on the back of the greasy-haired professor before he turned slightly to you with a deep sigh. “Fine, but don’t expect this to be an annual thing.”

You gave him a bright smile, holding yourself back from jumping around in your seat and completely pushing aside the desire to throw your arms around him in excitement.

“I promise you’ll have fun.”

He hid the small smile that grew on his face from seeing how happy his answer made you, turning his head down towards his parchment filled with notes that all of a sudden seemed interesting as he avoided your gaze. He wouldn’t admit it, but he was the smallest bit of excited at the thought of spending the holiday with you because he knew that wherever you went or whatever you did, he would be perfectly content with you by his side because for the first time in all your years as friends; he realized only a month ago that the weird fluttering feeling in the pit of his stomach when he was around you or the weird overwhelming warmth that spread throughout his entire body like an ocean of water breaking through a dam - was a crush. He hated it at first, noticing and begrudgingly acknowledging it. He thought it was cliche that he somehow fell for one of his closest friends and mostly, he thought that he was going to ruin the friendship entirely. He wanted to wreck it himself, trying to distance himself from you and being extra mean - but he couldn’t.

He adored your company too much and everything that came with you. He adores your laugh, your smile, your hugs when you greet him and how you somehow give him one each time he needs it the most. He adores the study-buddy system you guys have almost every other week before a quiz or an exam. He adores your bad jokes and clumsy accidents even though those qualities annoy him with anyone else. He adores the way you want him to join you in everything fun you and he especially adores the times when he overhears you talking about him as if he’s your favorite person in the world.

Bottom line, he’s all about you.

So when this season of spookiness came, he was expecting your pleading for him to spend the day with you. Only this time, it only took you a couple times before he ultimately agreed to give in to you.

You were ready to explode with thrill at the thought of what the night held in store for you and you didn’t hide it one bit. When the big Hogwarts Hallowe’en feast was over and every one began spilling out from the Great Hall and into the main foyer, you were searching restlessly for a clean mop of silver hair that almost always stuck out in the mass of students. You weren’t sure if you were able to spot him anywhere in under a few seconds because he was unimaginably important to you, or because his hair was so uniquely bright, or maybe it was how boisterous and loud Crabbe and Goyle always were when they were by him, especially if he was with other Slytherins - but you found him, every single time with ease.

After standing on your tippy-toes several times to overlook the stampede of everyone, you finally spotted Draco leaning across a pillar with his arms crossed and a smirk on his face while he stood in a circle of his House friends that included his two goons and his quidditch teammates. You watched him thoughtfully as you approached, taking slow steps towards the group to admire him from afar and also because they were all slightly intimidating. He looked lost in the conversation, laughs escaping from his upturned lips as he listened to whatever was being said, large pale hands running through his hair every so often when the front pieces of his hair would flop down to his forehead. 

He looked ridiculously good and effortlessly at that.

You weren’t sure if you should interrupt, hesitating a few feet away from them to where they couldn’t sense your presence but you were close enough to see and hear them clearly.

“We’ll see you later tonight then, Malfoy?” One of the boys nodded towards Draco.

“I’ll show up for a bit, I suppose,” he shrugs.

You see him look around the circle of boys, eyes landing on you momentarily and then back to his friends before doing a double-take towards you again in surprise. You tried to ignore the butterflies erupting in your stomach when his smile widens slightly into a short-lived toothy grin while he said a quick goodbye to his friends causing them all to disband and him to start approaching you.

“Are you ready for the halloween of a lifetime?” You ask as he neared.

He rolled his eyes, laughing faintly. “Where am I meeting you, darling?”

The nick name he used so rarely for you made your knees feel weak, a warm blush rushing up your neck and inching onto your cheeks that you knew was going to be very apparent on your face in a few seconds.

“I’ll meet you right here in an hour,” you say quickly.

You didn’t give him time to answer before you turned quickly in the direction of your common room and began rushing away before he could see the effect he had on you that was so clearly appearing on your face.

You didn’t know what the night held for you and Draco or where it would lead you. Unknowing to you, you were both hoping something more could come out of the evening between the two of you. But he wasn’t one to express himself in that department of feelings and you weren’t feeling bold enough to say anything about yours. It was a gray area of hoping that fate could somehow intervene and throw the two of you into what you both wanted without either of you really saying anything - but it was impossible. There was no outcome or situation you had in mind that could lead you into that, so you were stuck desperately hoping that one day things might end up differently.

It was beginning to feel ironic how in your world full of real tangible magic, there wasn’t a magical solution to your problem. You were trapped feeling like a muggle who had to figure things out by themselves, no magic included. The thought of giving him a love potion did cross your mind as a joke, but it wasn’t a genuine or fair option but little did you know, you don’t need a potion for him to feel the same way - because he already did.

Walking into your dorm felt like an exuberant disaster of everyone running around and sitting in front of mirrors with their makeup or dressing into their costumes. It was noisy and filled with chatter and you were in shock from how much clutter everyone was able to make in such a short period of time from when the feast ended to now. A simple spell would clean everything up so you and everybody else didn’t really pay it any mind. 

You maneuvered around the mess of your housemates and towards your bed where your costume was kept in the trunk underneath it, plopping down onto the floor to pull it from the underskirt of your House colored bedding.

“Did he finally say yes?” Your closest roomie friend jumped onto your bed, propping herself up on her elbows and resting her chin on her hands as she watched you dig through your bottomless trunk. 

“Surprisingly, yes,” you answered, hiding the smile on your face. 

She drawled out a teasing ‘ooh,’ poking your arm lightly with her index finger as you shied away and leaned deeper into your trunk. She was the only one who you willingly admitted your crush to as she was the only person you really trusted to not blather it off to someone.

“Will I be seeing you two in the Slytherin common room?” She wiggled her eyebrows. “The boys are throwing a party and I luckily got an invite, you know how they are. So picky with who shows up.”

“You mean they’re pretentious?” You laugh. “But I don’t know if we’ll be going to it. I know Draco obviously got invited but I was thinking we could do other things.”

“Like what?” She questions as if she knew it was going to be something dirty. “I know a few secret spots around the castle-”

“No, get your mind out of the gutter,” you smack her arm lightly. “I honestly have no clue what to do. I didn’t think he’d actually agree because he never does.”

She runs her hands over her face, stifling her laughs of disbelief before she sighed loudly. “I still suggest some broom closets, hidden out of sight.”

You sit up, pushing her from where she was lying while she laughed amusingly at your false horrified reaction that you put on to hide the fact from her that what she was suggestion really was what you wanted. 

“I’ll leave you alone so you can get your costume on,” she smiles, jumping up from your bed and tossing one of your pillows at you as she walked away. You let out a huff, tossing it back onto your duvet before setting your costume down on the spot your friend was lying in.

You stared at it hesitantly, all of a sudden feeling nauseous at the thought of going out later with Draco as if it was some sort of date even though you knew it wasn’t. It was just two friends, hanging out, doing some spooky and fun Halloween activities together and nothing more; so why were you feeling so nervous? You weren’t sure if it was your instincts warning you of something major that was approaching or the fear that what you didn’t have planned was going to bite you in the arse when you continuously told Draco he was going to enjoy himself when you didn’t even know if that was going to be true. You didn’t want to disappoint him and mess it up for you in the future when the holiday came again and you didn’t want this to be the first and last time you experienced it with him. 

The pressure was raining down on you like thick, hard pieces of hail with no end in sight.

As you were getting dressed and doing your makeup for your costume as you liked, (i’m trying to be vague for your own imagination teehee) all you could think about was what in the hell you were going to do once you met up with the Prince of Slytherin. Your train of thought was then derailed into wondering what he was going to be dressed up as or if he was going to be dressed up at all considering the way he is. He was the type to make fun of people who dressed up, that you knew when you ran into him last year as you were walking back to your common room with your friend, both of you in costume and victims of his gentle bullying. He obviously went easier on the two of you since you were there, telling you he was just messing around afterwards and saying he liked yours but once you were out of his sight but still in ear-shot, you heard him and his two minions berating a small group of people that unfortunately passed by them. 

You gave yourself one last look in the floor mirror, letting out a long shaky exhale with your hands clasped together before you started towards the way out of your dorm, through the common room, and ultimately towards the foyer outside the Great Hall where Draco was most likely waiting for you. An hour had gone by since you last saw him, an hour of stress and panic that hadn’t slowed down or stopped.

Your shoes dragged against the stone floors, hugging yourself tightly as you walked nearer towards the spot where you were supposed to meet and as you lifted your gaze - you saw him there, staring right at you with a small grin and just like you expected, no costume.

“Nice costume,” he compliments when you reach him. 

“Where’s yours?” You frown.

“I’m not dressing up. That’s embarrassing,” he shakes his head. 

You scoff, crossing your arms. “You’re the only one not dressed up, that’s embarrassing.”

You don’t know why it was irritating to you that he wasn’t in costume, even if you knew he wasn’t. You figured it was because you were trying to overpower your nervousness with different more consuming feelings, and much to your and Draco’s dismay, it worked. 

You weren’t nervous anymore, just irked.

“I’m staying like this, take it or leave it.”

You rolled your eyes, staring him down and hoping that he would change his mind but he wouldn’t. He was ridiculously stubborn.

In the heat of the moment of a fleeting thought, you decided that if he wasn’t going to be in costume, you would put him in one or at least a hint of one. You pulled your wand out, pointing it onto his striking white hair and with one easy spell, his hair was now a flaming vibrant red.

“Y/N!” He growled, running towards the closest thing that would show off his reflection where he let out a string of frantic curse words. “I look like a bloody Weasley.”

Your laughter caught him off guard, the sound ringing in his ears like music that spread warmth throughout him. You were clutching at your stomach with one hand and pointing at him with the other, giggling wildly at the sight of him with hair that did not suit him at all. He smiled to himself, your glee rubbing off on him abruptly that ate away quickly at his anger.

“You should’ve given me some ratty old hand-me-down robes and I’d look just like Ron,” he notes.

“That’s rude, Draco,” you say still laughing. He smirks, leaving the shiny statue of a knight in armor where he was checking his reflection and back over to you where you were still stuck in between doubling over in laughter and watching him. 

“I’m glad this is funny to you,” he muses. He begins digging into the pocket of his dress pants, taking your vulnerability as a chance for him to tap his wand to the top of your head and before you could react, your whole hair had turned a deep green.

Your laughter immediately ended as you ran towards the suit of armor, your grimacing reflection staring back at you with deep Slytherin green hair and a distorted Draco behind you doubling over just like you were moments ago.

“This looks,” you couldn’t even finish your sentence, the scowl on your face saying enough for you as you turned bitterly towards Draco. 

“Great?” He suggested, his guffawing subsiding into airy chuckles as you stood in front of him. Yours picked up again as you stared up at him, his striking bright red hair looking terribly unfamiliar on him. He was looking down at you, his heart jumping at the sight of you holding back your laughter. “You really do look dashing by the way.”

You swallowed thickly, thankful for the darkness that had settled around the castle and easily hid the scarlet brush appearing on your face. “But my hair is green.”

“Green is my favorite color.”

You opened your mouth to speak, your stomach and heart dropping simultaneously as your mind went completely blank. You pretended to not notice how he took a step closer to you to where he was almost fully against you and he pretended not to notice the way your lips were parted and how your chest was rising and falling a little too heavily as if you were nervous. It was game over for you when his gaze flickered down towards your lips and then back to your eyes, his head leaning down just the slightest like if he were waiting for you to meet him halfway. You were about to get closer to him, about to let your eyes close and give in to what you believed was him wanting to kiss you - but the world had other plans.

“Malfoy! There you are!” Someone boomed, clambering up the steps from the direction of the dungeons. You both jumped away from each other, your attention diverted to the Slytherin boy that interrupted the moment. “Malfoy come on, the party! And you can bring her too.”

You frowned when the boy came up to the two of you, clearly tipsy, dressed as a stereotypical vampire, and over-excited with the fact that Draco was out and willing to participate in Halloween festivities. It seemed like it bothered the now red-head when he looked to you and then back to the Slytherin boy with an apprehensive expression.

The boy, sensing the pause in the air, grabbed onto both you and Draco’s arms and started dragging the two of you towards the Slytherin common room where although the stone walls were thick, the sound of people celebrating inside were easily slipping past the stone slabs. He spoke the password out quickly and as soon as the entrance was open, you were both shoved inside into what looked like the largest party you had ever witnessed in all your years at Hogwarts. It was packed and filled with what looked like half of the school, or at least a huge majority of fifth-years and up. It was loud with music booming from a brand new wizarding-world radio in the middle of the room currently playing a song from the Weird Sisters. It smelled like a mixture of everyone’s perfumes and colognes and like firewhisky. The boy that pushed you two inside quickly passed you two cups of the very potent firewhisky before downing the third one he had in his hand and disappeared into the crowd while screaming for you to enjoy yourselves.

You both stood awkwardly away from the big and rowdy crowd, your drink clenched tightly in your hand against your chest and Draco swishing his around while it was still in the cup.

He wanted to up and run, thinking that someone was going to make a comment about his hair or about him being there, but no one seemed to pay attention to him or that he was there and in a way, he felt relieved by it and less tense by the second. 

“How in the bloody hell did we end up here?” You yelled over the music, putting a hand over his arm that was holding his drink up. You didn’t mean to, but you were glad you did because he glanced down at the contact with a small smile before looking back up to you.

“We got dragged here, remember!” He yelled back. 

“What?” 

“We got dragged here!”

“I can’t hear you!”

He rolled his eyes, bending down towards your ear to repeat himself one last time before you finally heard him over the mayhem around you.

“This is crazy!” You looked around the room, the sight of all the bodies and recklessness being too much as they were all more than likely drunk and oblivious to how stuffy and suffocating the room was becoming.

You looked down at the golden brown liquid sloshing around in your cup, wondering whether or not you should take it, but with the nervousness you felt coming back, it didn’t take you much longer to decide to down your cup and allow the liquid courage to seep into your veins. Draco watched you with amusement, chuckling to himself when you scrunched up your face in disgust from the burn he knew it caused as it went down your throat. He shook his head, deciding to drink his too and it was only minutes that passed before the drink was quickly becoming apparent in your systems. There was something about Firewhisky that always made its mark promptly and it really was courage in a bottle that you were glad was available to you in that moment because you were sure that in just a few minutes you were close to fainting.

You were beginning to sway faintly to the music, the rhythm sounding more loud but distant and more invigorating. You didn’t care anymore if anyone was watching or that Draco was observing you curiously just as he was beginning to lose all sense of holding himself back. He was inching closer to you, his head moving slightly to beat of the song and pure joy etched onto his features when your eyes met his.

“I keep forgetting I turned your hair red!” You yelled up to him, laughing loudly when he ran his hand through it. In your moment of confidence, you reached up and lightly ran your fingers over one of the front pieces hanging over his forehead. He didn’t stop you, his heart hammering against his chest from the drink and his overwhelming crush that was clouding all his senses. “Your hair is so soft!” 

He wanted to pin you up against the wall right then and there. You were peering up at him, just as you were before you were dragged inside by one of his Housemates and as soon as he was about to kiss you. 

“Do you want to get out of here?” He knew to bend down this time for you to hear him to which you responded with a fervent nod. You took his hand in yours, pulling him towards the exit of the common room and he let you lead him into the coldness of the dungeons that bit at his cheeks. It was a stark difference from the warmth inside, the crisp October air being more chilled than what either of you were expecting. It felt nice against your flushed skin and easier to breathe, especially once after the common room closed again and you could hear was muffled talking and music.

Neither of you were drunk and were still aware of pretty much everything, mostly the feelings stirring inside you both that was begging either of you to make a move towards the other. You were just a tad tipsy, and so was he, but it was enough for you to still enjoy the night without the initial awkwardness that oddly settled in between you. It was weird, considering how open and talkative you usually were with each other but there was something about the evening that made it feel like if you didn’t know each other.

“What now?” He asked you with a raised brow, his hand slipping into his pocket.

You smiled, an idea coming to your head that you knew he would love and you didn’t mind doing in the name of Halloween. “Do you want to go mess with people?”

He stared at you with widened eyes, “bloody hell, I love you.”

There was nothing that could have prepared you for his response, your own eyes widening in shock as you stared at him. He felt his face get hot in embarrassment, Merlin, he felt so stupid. He was mentally smacking himself in the head, desperately wishing he could bury himself seven feet under the Earth and staying there until the end of time.

He was about to play off what he said in a joking way, but for the second time that night he was interrupted by a couple that stumbled out of the common room drunkenly snogging each other’s faces off and wholly oblivious to you and Draco standing there in lingering panic. You jumped back into his arms when the couple staggered past you, almost knocking you over in the process of their makeout session and it annoyed you beyond belief. It annoyed you that they were in your way, annoyed that they interrupted you, annoyed that it wasn’t you in their position with the one you wanted. 

You dug your wand out of your pocket, flicking it their way as they rolled onto the wall, still in each other’s hold until the hex that flew from your wand hit the boy causing him to stagger back from the girl and holding his nose in pain. You heard Draco laugh from behind you when bats began to fly out from the boy’s nostrils while the girl screamed and ran away from one of the bats that swept down onto her head. The bats flew out of the dungeon and up the stairs with the boy struggling loudly the whole way up until his panicked screams were no longer heard.

“That was a perfect bat-bogey,” he looks at you proudly. “I feel bad for that poor bloke’s nose.”

“Thank you, thank you,” you bowed jokingly. 

When the sound of the door opened again, you both ran to hide behind a long drape against the wall that didn’t hide your shoes very well and pressed up against your bodies that’s shapes were no doubt visible from the opposite side.

You heard footsteps trail haphazardly down the corridor, their back seemingly facing you and as you both peeked your heads out from behind the drape, Draco nodded towards the boy and pointed his wand towards him. 

“Slugulus Eructo,” you heard him whisper and a stream of green light from his wand hit the back of the boy’s head and as he turned around in surprise while doubling over in pain, his hand clamped tightly over his mouth as slugs began to slip past the spaces between his fingers. When he stood up to run away, you noticed it was the same boy from earlier that stopped you two from the almost kiss and dragged you to the party. You let out a string of giggles as he ran away just like your last victims.

“This is so mean,” you chortle, leaning into him from behind the drape in an attempt to get closer to him. You were feeling bolder when he beamed down at you, feeling happy knowing that although the night was still young, he was having fun. “Thank you for coming with me tonight, I know you don’t like Halloween.” You say quietly.

“You finally convinced me, it’s not that bad,” he grins.

“Why’d you hate it in the first place?”

The question seemed to strike a nerve but the Firewhisky still flowing freely in his veins tore away easily at his defenses so instead of avoiding your question entirely like he usually would, he frowned and let his guard down.

“I don’t hate it,” he answers apprehensively. “My father never let me celebrate it. He never let me dress up. He told me respectable wizards don’t partake in holidays like these.”

His pout made your gut twist in sympathy, your hand instinctively going into his as you squeezed it reassuringly. “It’s never too late to start celebrating. Besides, I don’t see him here stopping you.”

He smiled for what felt like the hundredth time that night, his stained-red hair falling over his eyes as he looked down to his shoes.

“You have a point, darling.”

The door of the common room opened again and what you suspected to be another snogging couple to stumble out from the sound of heavy breathing and multiple shoes scuffling about was something completely different.

“Glad Malfoy stayed with someone else today.” It was Crabbe.

“Yeah, he never lets us go to these parties,” Goyle responds. “Go ahead and thank Y/L/N for freeing us, he fancies her like a fool.”

“Reckon we should go look for them?”

You figured Goyle nodded to him like the blathering idiot he was because in a few short seconds they were running away up the same steps everyone else had. 

You peered up slowly at Draco who was already gaping at you like a deer in headlights. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. The gears in your brain were spinning wildly with happiness, the gossip hopefully being proven true when he didn’t try to deny it. You didn’t realize how close his face was to yours, cheeks tinged with pink from both the firewhisky and sudden shyness and his warm cinnamon breath fanning your face as he looked down at you.

“I can explain,” he finally said.

He didn’t need to; you placed your hands gently on his cheeks, pulling him impossibly closer to you and pressing your lips against his, catching him completely by surprise. His eyes were wide at first, his body rigid and his lips unmoving, but once it finally clicked that this was real and no longer a fantasy that played like a broken record in his head, his lips moved fervently against yours with the rest of his body following. His hands gripped your hips tightly, his fingers squeezing at the hem of your bottoms and his body pushing even further into yours.

Your bottom lip caught lightly in between his teeth as you reluctantly pulled away from him, the both of you breathing raggedly as you searched each other’s eyes.

“I feel the same,” you said softly. “Happy Halloween.”

He smashes his lips hungrily against yours again, his ego growing with each gasp of a delight that escapes your mouth as your hands roamed and tangled themselves into his magically colored strands.

“Very...happy...halloween,” he mutters against your lips in between kisses, a dazy smile adorning your face while he tightened his arms around you.

You just couldn’t wait until next year.

[theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin]

[tomione thing] Thanks for the recs! I actually was looking forward to the rant, I like how you break things apart so they make sense in a very unique way.( I don't have any strong feelings to the pairing if that was your concern, I just think the stories about them have the potential to be fantastic because I enjoy intelligent characters going through life and solving problems and, usually, in fanfiction there's focus on only one smart character.

So, you people are just poking me with sticks to see what ridiculous opinions spew out then. I’m onto your game.

With that said, let’s get to answering then, and know that you bring this upon yourself.

I loathe Tomione. I put up with it, sometimes, because I will read almost any fic featuring Tom Riddle as a main character. (Want the Carnivorous Muffin to read your fic? Tom Riddle as a main character. Even if I disagree with 110% of your premise I will probably still read your story.)

However, it’s extremely telling that my recs the other day were hilariously small, and one was actually Hermione/Loki. The Tomione exists, I just hate it.

This is for two main reasons. First, I just don’t believe the ship would ever work under any circumstances and the pair are naturally doomed to loathe one another. Second, fanfiction has a collection of tropes associated with Tomione that are in unbearable (likely caused unconsciously by the first, Tomione doesn’t really work, so we do terrible things to make it work). 

Tomione Doesn’t Work: Change My Mind

So, remember we’re living in Muffin-land for this. I’ve explained some of my headcanons regarding these characters, and I’ll offer brief explanation for why I think what I do here, but I’m not going to expand on it too much.

Tomione has appeal under the premise that either you or someone else previously mentioned: they’re both so smart, of course they belong together.

The trouble, Hermione’s not nearly as smart as she thinks she is. What we see of Hermione’s cleverness boils down to having a very good work ethic and reading a lot of books. She tends to outsmart Ron and Harry because she actually puts in the work to do her homework and, my god, read her text books. Also, as I’ve covered before, Harry’s an idiot, so that’s a low bar.

Because Hogwarts can be passed by the likes of Crabbe and Goyle, and the curriculum seems to boil down to “pronounce this fake Latin correctly, ooh look, a spell”, actually reading her books not only gets Hermione by but skyrockets her ahead of her peers. Who, apparently, have no ear at all and don’t understand the swishy motions are important and probably never bothered to read their books.

This isn’t to say she’s stupid, she’s by far one of the more intelligent characters in the series, but it says a lot of not so good things about Hogwarts that Hermione is the “brightest witch of her generation”. In my mind she has never compared to characters like Tom Riddle, Lily Evans, Severus Snape, or Albus Dumbledore.

Hermione never questions how magic exists, why wands work, or why pronunciation is so weirdly important and why we’re using spells that are gibberish Latin instead of English or simply Latin. She never takes that step outside the box I would expect a truly intelligent person to take.

An example, Hermione completely throws out the entire discipline of divination. This is part because she believes it’s stupid, but she also only spends about two seconds thinking about it, and she doesn’t appear to be any good at it. If Hermione’s not good at it then it must be a stupid subject for stupid people.

Now, that alone doesn’t doom her, but it does put a huge chink in the major appeal of Tomione: they’re both just so brilliant that they’d be great together.

What dooms them is that Hermione both a) thinks she is as brilliant as all these other people and b) has this pervasive need to be the smartest person in any room she walks into. Hermione comes across Tom Riddle in the past or just chills with Voldemort in the future, she will inevitably try to show him up. This isn’t just to assure us that good is better than evil, but because she can’t help herself, because being the smartest is how she defines herself.

As a result, especially if we’re in the time travel/school setting, she would inevitably get in competition with him to prove she’s so much better/smarter than he is. It would undoubtedly be on her terms, probably revolving around school work, and she’d throw a fit when Tom wins because he understands the value in being concise where Hermione would quite easily write a hundred page Potions’ essay (that had a five page limit) with the subtext “PRAISE ME” written on every page.

I can’t imagine Tom Riddle would find this anything but completely obnoxious and a waste of his time.

Now, part of this goes into headcanon land, but I have always imagined, 100%, that Tom Riddle in Hogwarts was treated like a muggleborn, that he didn’t find out his ancestry until at least part of the way through, and he never confessed to being the Heir of Slytherin. I can back this up, but that’s another story for another day, I’ll just say that no matter what Dumbledore says any other backdrop makes no damn sense.

So, Tom has clawed the respect of his peers into reality with bleeding hands, he came from nothing in a way that even the ‘good’ purebloods wouldn’t have sympathy for. Even the muggleborns I imagine thought they were better than him. Tom is an impoverished orphan, so poor he has to stay at Hogwarts over the holidays, he was not having a fun time at school.

Tom has ambitions, is mired in hatred, and is not really all that wrapped up in Hogwarts except to get him where he wants to go.

Now, imagine Hermione suddenly shows up in front of this Tom. Suddenly he’s being challenged to essay competitions, she probably leaves cryptic remarks all the time about how evil he is and how amazing she is because she’s not evil and smarter than he is, and if he thinks he’s smarter than her then he better find time to prove it.

It’s like talking to a Dumbledore he can never escape from.

Tom doesn’t have time for this bullshit.

Tomione not only insists that he does but that he lives for this bullshit. Forget Voldemort, Hermione making weird comments about how Tom has a mutilated soul, or that Dumbledore is so much cooler than he is, is where it’s at. 

As for Hermione, ultimately, I don’t think she’d ever really be attracted to Tom Riddle because he’s too much competition. The guys we’ve seen Hermione with are all safely much dumber than she is, Hermione likes being in relationships with men she feels in some way better than. Tom Riddle is not that guy. 

Add on top of this that Hermione’s righteousness would never allow her to even think about dating someone like Tom and we get her, at best, trying for the sake of destroying him (if she seduces Tom then she destroys Voldemort!) but ultimately failing.

Because the thing is, circling back to where we started, there are different kinds of intelligence, different levels of intelligence, and intelligence alone isn’t a reason to get along. Smart people might gravitate towards smart people, but they still have to have compatible personalities. Reading books isn’t magical glue that can bind people together.

No matter what way I look at it, Hermione and Tom would absolutely loathe one another in every capacity. 

Hermione ends up back in time accidentally and goes to Tom with Hogwarts: utter loathing.

Hermione ends up back in time on purpose and tries to save Tom’s troubled soul or else murder the shit out of him: utter loathing with an extra dash of “what the fuck?!” on Tom’s end.

Hermione ends up back in time after Hogwarts when Tom’s a store clerk: utter loathing (Hermione walks into Tom’s shop to tell him how cool and interesting she is to enter into the typical Tomione mind games, all Tom wants is commission.)

Hermione enters into deals with devils with the horcruxes: utter loathing complete with Tom’s triumphant/Nelson laugh when he inevitably betrays her to get his own body.

A young Tom Riddle somehow winds up in the future and is forced to attend Hogwarts because Dumbledore does what he wants: utter loathing (Tom has to sit there and enjoy Harry and especially Hermione telling him how evil he is and how Hermione’s so much smarter than him because she’s muggleborn and reads books.)

Lord Voldemort takes Hermione hostage during the horcrux hunt: utter loathing (though this would be sadly less irritating to Tom than the others, I imagine, if only because Hermione would probably be more terrified and less righteous. But she’d hate him with the fire of a thousand suns and inevitably pull a horrific revenge scheme on either him or his Death Eaters. No one crosses Hermione. No one.)

You name it, I think it’s going to end with the pair hurling chairs at each other and just being completely and utterly uninterested in every capacity. 

Now, onto how Tomione is typically written, which just makes it so much worse.

Tomione Fics Breed Awful: Change My Mind

Tomione, to me, is born from a few things. It’s born from the author’s desire to have an intelligent, female, borderline SI lead and to shove her together with another edgy smart person with some degree of a bad boy persona.

In this way Tomione fics are very similar to Snape/Hermione fics, are similar to Lokane from Thor/Avengers, are similar to Zutara back in the earlier seasons of Avatar the Last Airbender, etc. 

As a result the fics almost invariably spiral into: “Hermione is so smart, she’s so much smarter than everyone else, she impresses Tom because she is so smart. Tom is so smart but so evil, he sexy growls at her, and confesses how much he hates love every other chapter.” 

Only, as I noted above, while there are many interpretations of Tom’s character (and mine certainly doesn’t agree with the vast majority) I can’t help but think every single version would hate her.

To make him not hate her the author will often turn him into one of two Tom Riddles: Emotionally Deficient Robot Tom or Growling Sexy Sociopath Tom. Emotionally Deficient Robot Tom will often have paragraph long tangents to remind us he doesn’t compute your human emotions, “Beep boop” but despite this Hermione’s out of control hair makes him feel urges “bloop bloop”. Growling sexy sociopath Tom usually goes on a rant about how love is beneath him, backs Hermione into broom closets, and growls as he sexily makes out with her in a non-romantic manner because “ew love”. 

In other words, Tom is made an unbelievably flat character. He becomes a base archetype of sexy villain character. He never really gets redeemed, even if the story insists he does, he usually doesn’t have a reason for the way he is (”um, love potions!” the author often cries), and he and Hermione always think they’re much more important than they are.

The story rarely, if ever, goes anywhere because the entire point of the story is mind games between two sixteen-year-olds who think they’re smarter than everyone else. So we get a lot of chapters of Hermione and Tom running around, being very clever to each other, but doing nothing.

Sometimes authors do deviate from this, we will have an actual plot where we’re not just in Hogwarts again or it’s not just centering on ridiculous mind games. However, even then, Tom is usually is some variant of a very flat cartoon villain while Hermione is... Well, one would think the way she’s described that she’s the smartest, best, most beautiful, most brilliant thing to ever grace this earth.

TL;DR

Tomione is not my jam.

[hatchetfieldtheories]

Return to Hatchetfield-Town - TGWDLM Part 3

Have I been putting off this part because of sad Bill? Maybe.  Or is it because of all your amazing Ridiculous Hatchetfield Theory submissions? Yeah, you were right the first time.  I just can’t deal with sad Bill.

We left part 2 of the TGWDLM rewatch where the Scooby Gang had turned up at the spooky mansion, which can only go well, and we come back in part 3 as they’ve left the tied up resident bad guy alone with the one person who has a weakness for said bad guy.

Links to previous parts

It’s Ted loving time and I make no apologies for it.

Am I the only one who saw the scene with Ted and Charlotte and immediately got sent back to MAMD’s Joey and Sally?  It’s so good seeing Joey and Jaime acting opposite each other like this again, they both bring the same amount of chaotic brilliance.  

I have no jokes to make for this, I just needed a gif of the “slap” here.  Beautiful.  Iconic.

Here we see a bit of the true Ted, the Ted we see in Time Bastard.  He’s an idiot sure, but its obvious he is actually a hopeless romantic who really cares for Charlotte, underneath an exterior of “sleazeball”. 

When I originally read what happens in Time Bastard I will admit it didn’t really fit with the image I had in my head of Ted.  Ted is first and foremost played for laughs.  He’s selfish and arrogant and funny.  But rewatching TGWDLM, especially with Time Bastard in mind, you do see where Joey let’s Ted’s façade drop.  You see it at a greater extent later when Charlotte dies and Ted goes off on one to Bill.  But you also see it here (I’m sorry Ted fans):

Serious gifs, who is she?

Now. What’s happening in this next little scene? Are we ready for some tin foil hatting?

What do you want Charlotte?

Continuing our theme of characters explaining what they want in clear and certain terms, Charlotte starts praying to God, then Sam wakes up.  Was Sam waiting for everyone else to leave before “waking up” in order to target Charlotte?  Or were Charlotte’s prayers answered by an Eldritch being with the capability to control the Creedy Chorus?  Later Sam says that he “saw god”.  

In Black Friday, Linda attempts to issue in the “birth of a god.”  God is certainly a word the Devil Dolls are happy to attribute to themselves.  Somehow I don’t think it would have mattered if they had gone to a Methodist or Presbyterian church.

Opinion time: Tied Up My Heart is a full on rock bop and deserves way more praise and acclaim. You could have told me this song was from Rock of Ages and I would believed you.

“Don’t you twust me” – serious Wiggly vibes there Sam.

This is kinda catchy Sam!

In part two we briefly discussed when Hidgens became infected, and there is some theories that believe he was infected from the moment he touched the blue brain goo, leading to Show Stopping Number happening.

Charlotte was infected the minute she touched Sam’s brains.  Like Hidgens, it happened slowly, but its very clear it had begun to take root in this song.  Tied Up My Heart is to Charlotte, what Let It Out is to Paul.  They both find themselves dancing without meaning to, they both begin to hear the music.  I’ve mentioned previously that Tied Up My Heart is the only song in which there is an offstage chorus, which would be strange unless for the first time we’re hearing the show as Charlotte is hearing it – she’s beginning to hear the rest of the Hive.

 The only difference between Charlotte and Paul is their wants during these pivotal numbers.  Paul is trying harder to fight the song because his want is to destroy the meteor.  Charlotte isn’t able to fight the song because her want is Sam… and the song is giving her that. 

I think this is the part of the musical where most people pause and proclaim… what the hell am I watching. Which, you know… valid.

Can anyone tell me what foreshadowing is?

Ted just casually predicting the ending of the show.  Take out the head and the whole thing falls down – an historically inaccurate statement in the proceedings of Hatchetfield’s apocalypses.

Exhibit A – Taking out the meteor does not stop the hive.

Exhibit B – Sending a Nuke into the Black and White does not stop Wiggly.

I don’t know what Nerdy Prudes will be about but heads up to the characters – maybe don’t try and destroy the root of the issue as your solution.

Obviously there is a lot of story in Emma and Paul’s discussion here, a lot of which gets unpacked and revisited in Forever and Always, but I’m not really going to delve into the specifics of it here.  My biggest take away from this conversation is that Emma explains her past, and her intentions for the future, but at no point is it ever clear what her want is. 

In a musical where character’s are killed because they want something, is it any wonder Emma is the one who survives at the end?  She doesn’t have any big, ultimate want.  She’s jaded and tired, until the end… when what she wants is for Paul to have survived.

This shows a clear distinction between how Pokey and Wiggly operate (and the others, but we’ll discuss them when we get to Nightmare Time.)  Both of these Bothersome Brothers use wanting as their tool of chaos but in very different ways.

Pokey wants you to want something, in order to tempt you with that in order to destroy you.

Wiggly wants to find holes to fill with exaggerated, artificial echoes of a want.

The new game at Toy Zone – Bop Ted

Does anyone else forget for a bit how amazing Jaime’s voice is and then finds themselves entranced when Join Us and Die happens?  I’m sure there is some lore in this song but I’m far too distracted.

If we refer back to our Violence over Time chart from part two of the rewatch you will see we have now fully arrived at the point where the Hive has stopped trying to just entice everyone with fluffy feelings before murdering them, and are now just resorting to “we’re gonna kill you and it’ll hurt a lot.”

I know there is plenty of discussion regarding whether Hidgens is good or bad, infected or not infected etc – but none of that matters.  What matters is he makes the same crappy puns I make in inappropriate situations and I think that’s beautiful.

“The Charlotte you knew and loved was gone the minute a note came out her mouth.” – Snape’s back with the foreshadowing again.

Hidgens then proceeds to subject our heroes to a very intricate test to find out who is human, and who is the musical Doppleganger (one of the AJ Holmes fans there).  I’ve seen Moana once, and I became obsessed with the bioluminescent crab so I don’t remember any of the other songs apart from Shiny.  This is a problem because the only other song I know from Moana has now become Paul’s version of whatever it is he is singing. I refuse to believe there is any other version of that song.

“Their tactic is to hide amongst us, and as their numbers grow, they become more bold.” – yes Hidgens – we’ve all seen the chart.

Acting Masterclass with Corey Dorris

Bill gets a phone call from Alice, she’s stuck at Hatchetfield High and her girlfriend and the other kids have become singing and dancing zombies.  Is this a prequel to High School Musical?

Its worth noting that Alice has locked herself in the Choir room – Hatchetfield High’s number one place to hide when things are going badly - x

Look what happened Nightmare Time.  

Corey Dorris’ face pulls on every heart string I possess.  Not Your Seed is a fantastic song, with some superb singing by Mariah, but the heart of this song is Corey.  Bill is a broken man from the moment he echoes Alice’s words that Grace Chastity is a Nerdy Prude. And the voice crack!

Small warning here for a very brief discussion about suicide. If you want to skip past scroll to the next gif.

The song is an attempt to bring Bill to the Hive, but I think the plan from the start was to push him to shoot himself. Bill wants his daughter back, he wants her to be a part of his life, but unlike with Charlotte, where Hive!Sam attempts to convince her he’s not really dead and wants her, Hive!Alice uses Bill’s want to break him further and further, swinging between Alice’s love and disdain for her father.  This isn’t an attempt to lay a trap and kill him when he falls in it, it’s a blatant push towards him killing himself.  The Hive only picked up the gun because Paul was there to stop him.

I also find the mirror of this moment to later in Watcher World very fascinating.  We obviously know Pokey and Blinky are brothers, and I wonder if the set up leading Alice to point a gun at Bill in Watcher World is Blinky’s twisted humour, echoing what he knows happened in another timeline.  A horrible joke that would be lost on Bill and Alice in that timeline, but very recognisable to all of us Watchers.

Once again the Hive could have easily killed Paul, but they don’t.  They make a big song and dance (get it?) out of how the guns not good enough to kill him with and then they start singing at him just in time for the army to turn up.  The Hive had no intention of killing Paul yet, though obviously they can’t let him know that.  Paul has been chosen as their Hero.  He’s got work to do.

Hatchetfield High Homework

Just the one this week, I’m currently doing an Ask series where I attempt to make ridiculous sounding Hatchetfield Theories make sense.  You can find them by searching Ridiculous Hatchetfield Theories.  Go and have a look and follow the wonderful people sending them in.

When the rewatch returns, we get our first peep into the world of PEIP.

[notthatiwilleverwriteit]

Sorry if I’m rude, but I really don’t get the Ugetsu hype at all 😕, would you mind explaining it please, I would like to widen my perception of him

Hello, dear anon!

First of all, I’m so sorry for keeping your ask waiting for so long. You would think that as an Ugetsu fan, I would have been jumping up and down because of this question - and don’t get me wrong, I am excited. But much like with my previous Given ask, I found myself a bit puzzled by what to say, to be honest. Turned out this wasn’t as “simple” of a question as I originally thought. 

Secondly, don’t worry, your question isn’t rude. On the contrary, I think it’s admirable if you want to try to understand someone else’s bias and interests. It doesn’t mean you will start liking and being passionate about the same things, but I think it’s always welcomed to ask people why they like something. I’m not expecting you to start liking Ugetsu after reading how I feel about him, but your attitude is something I think we desperately need more of in this fandom.

“I really don’t get the Ugetsu hype at all 😕, would you mind explaining it please”

It’s interesting to me that you speak of “Ugetsu hype”. According to my time in the Given fandon, Ugetsu does have fans but he is probably one of the least liked characters. My gut feeling says that out of the main cast (Uenoyama, Mafuyu, Akihiko, Haruki, Ugetsu), Ugetsu is definitely the least liked among the fans. So, I can’t say I have witnessed any “hype” regarding him. Apart from a couple of hardcore Ugetsu stans, the closest to “hype” I have seen is people wishing he would find happiness after he and Akihiko broke up.

Also, I don’t think I can really “explain” anything either. Certainly not as some kind of fandom phenomenon. I can only speak for myself and myself only. The reasons why I love Ugetsu might not be why some other fans love him. I think that’s important to remember whenever talking about favorite characters/ships in general. We can never know why someone loves something, so I don’t think we should judge anyone on a personal level for liking something in fiction.

To give my answer some structure, I thought I would use some of my favorite Ugetsu illustrations. 

His character design and overall “vibe”:

As a reader/viewer/fan, I am more often than not interested in the somehow controversial characters and they usually end up becoming my favorites. Gotou Masamune (3-gatsu no lion), She Li (19 Days), Sing Soo-Ling (Banana Fish), Bakugou Katsuki (Boku no Hero Academia), Joker (DC Comics), Oikawa Tooru (Haikyuu), Severus Snape and Draco Malfoy (Harry Potter), and Oh Sangwoo (Killing Stalking) to name a few. I have always connected more with the antagonists and found them more interesting.

So, with a track record like that, I wasn’t surprised when my heart made a beeline to Ugetsu’s character. To me, it was pretty much love at first sight. I was instantly drawn to him: dark, sensual, and beautiful. In the anime, I absolutely loved his character’s mischievous and playful voice acting.

Ugetsu had an aura of solitude and distance to him, but he was also needy and affectionate in his own way. His frankness and mischief seemed to work as defense and yet he was also surprisingly vulnerable and even afraid. In many ways, he was like a cat who are often misunderstood as assholes when there is also a lot of character, affection, and intimacy packed in them.

Kizu’s choice of instrument for Ugetsu also fascinated me. To me, the violin is one of the most beautiful and intricate instruments, and it fits Ugetsu’s character perfectly. It's elegant, incredibly difficult, and kind of temperamental. The violin is sorrowful, seductive, and possesses loads of charisma. It sounds beautiful on its own though the more solitary it is, the more lonely it sounds. But it can also be a light, playful and mischievous sound, bouncing and chasing in the air. In either case, the violin won't allow itself to be ignored. 

To pair Ugetsu with the classical violin especially was also great. First of all, learning the violin on the level of becoming a soloist requires incredible discipline, dedication, and passion. Violin is a very unforgiving instrument, but it also gives you freedom. Things like intonation and phrasing are where a talent like a soloist could shine and express themselves. I think that kind of combination of disciplined precision and expressive freedom fits Ugetsu so, so well.

His softer and more vulnerable side:

I often see comments that Ugetsu didn’t really love Akihiko or care about him. Some readers think he was selfish, heartless, and abusive/toxic towards Akihiko in their relationship. And they feel sorry for anyone who later ends up in a relationship with him. To some people, Ugetsu came across as the lowest of low in his time with Akihiko.

Now, I am not going to try and claim that Ugetsu didn’t hurt Akihiko. He most certainly did, oftentimes knowingly when he was trying to push him away. Their relationship was no doubt turbulent and painful for both of them, and I’m sure they will both be happier now freed of their cycle. Even though I am an Ugetsu fan, I don’t want to make it sound like he couldn’t have done a lot of things differently.

However, I also see some parts of myself in Ugetsu. I relate to his certain type of uneasiness when it comes to letting someone/something occupy my priorities. It makes me restless and defensive easily, and I end up rejecting that someone/something which often comes across as being cold. That was an important part of why Ugetsu originally wanted to break up with Akihiko. His love for Akihiko grew so deep it posed as a “threat” to Ugetsu’s sense of “order” when it came to his passion for music. Despite of how their relationship ended, I don’t agree that Ugetsu is somehow incapable of loving someone, it just scares him and is something he needs to figure out for himself. Also, because I somewhat relate to Ugetsu in this sense, it kind of stings when people are so eager to proclaim that his kinds of people don’t deserve someone to love them.

I also believe Ugetsu cared about Akihiko and was worried about him. He did notice Akihiko had started to lose his passion for music and in a way, was giving up on himself. He wanted Akihiko to find his “trigger” again somehow. I have also read interpretations that Ugetsu probably felt guilty about how their relationship seemed to affect Akihiko’s drive. I think that’s an interesting point. Overall, it’s important to remember that partly why Ugetsu initially wanted to break up was to also “free” Akihiko from his suffering. I don’t think that is something that a heartless character would do.

I do think Ugetsu was happy with Akihiko in many ways, but it’s not his style to be flustered and lovey-dovey about it. Which is another thing I find myself somewhat relating to. Instead of being super romantic, I think Ugetsu shows his love and happiness by being clingy, playful/mischievous, and letting someone in his space both mentally and physically (by this, I don’t mean just sleeping with someone but actually letting them see him as a private person). Despite of the lack of proper communication being one of the problems in AkiUgetsu, I think Akihiko was one of the few people who really knew Ugetsu.

AkiUgetsu as roommates:

The beautiful coloring of the panel is by o_yang_o on Twitter.

I think it’s safe to say that most of the Ugetsu-hate stems from his time of being roommates with Akihiko. It was a very dark time for both of them despite the occasional islands of reminiscencing the good parts of their relationship. Ugetsu hurt Akihiko in many ways during that time and realized his behavior was hurting him.

But I think people often forget that Ugetsu was unhappy and hurting, too. Of course, it doesn’t excuse his actions but it explains them. Letting go of Akihiko was just as hard - if not harder - for Ugetsu as letting go of Ugetsu was for Akihiko. In his incapability of cutting the relationship off, Ugetsu resorted in trying to push Akihiko away by hurting him, but Akihiko wouldn’t give up on him. So, his actions didn’t come from some deep-rooted evil but rather being in pain and scared. He wanted the suffering to end but at the same, he couldn’t picture Akihiko not coming back and was terrified of everything, even the music, disappearing in the basement if Akihiko did leave him. 

I think the breakdown Ugetsu had when Akihiko finally broke up with him was telling of how difficult taking that last step had been for Ugetsu as well. He was scared of letting go and being let go of because surely nothing would be left behind. It’s true that it was Ugetsu who originally wanted to break up, but it was Akihiko who needed to walk away first when it finally came down to it. I think Ugetsu’s reaction spoke volumes of how deep his feelings for Akihiko truly ran. In short, AkiUgetsu ended up in a bad and painful direction, but I most definitely believe Ugetsu overall is capable of loving someone and he has a caring/affectionate side to him as well.

Overall, what I love about Ugetsu is his complexity and layers. You need to see deeper than his behavior to see his character as a whole. He’s not innocent and has many flaws, but he’s also not the cold and distant human monster he’s sometimes made out to be. I think Kizu put a lot of care and effort into building his character and did a beautiful job.

Liking a character like Ugetsu ultimately comes down to personal taste and preferences. I can understand that he’s not everyone’s cup of tea or if he evokes negative feelings. But I don’t think it’s fair to see some characters in a black-and-white manner if you’re at the same time making an effort to see behind some other character’s behavior. You don’t have to like every character and you can have biases, but if you catch yourself knowingly ignoring something, your reading probably isn’t the most accurate. A “lesson” I came to realize in my journey with AkiHaru.

Thank you for your question and patience, dear anon!

[halothenthehorns]

All in the Family

Chapter 108: Detention with Dolores

At first they all thought they'd somehow found themselves back in that woman's house. Despite a repeat location never yet happening to them, it would be her ghastly place to do so. Instead, it was just as bad, the pink stain that was her life had just traumatized this room.

The very bricks, doilies, and even this side of the door were now horror matched in a vaguely familiar office, a glance out the window showed the Quidditch stands did have them back at Hogwarts though.

"Moony, this is all your fault!" Sirius moaned, still fighting back the impulse to claw his eyes out with or without magic.

Remus didn't even have the heart to argue the point, if he'd known this was what would happen to the DADA job in such a short amount of time, he may have even risked his own affliction to keep this away. The book, once again, was sitting open and waiting for them, and Remus trudged over to get this started. He wasn't sure if Sirius was joking, but he did feel partially responsible for running from the school now whether Padfoot had meant to inflict that in him or not.

Lupin read out the chapter title to nobody's surprise, but a bit of dread. Despite the casual enough set up, they felt something ominous about a whole detention with Umbridge, and they'd never even officially met her. Potter went behind the desk and began rummaging through it with abandon, while Regulus wandered over to the smaller desk where Harry must have been doing his work, but when he got closer he found a rather odd setup.

There was a long black quill he vaguely recognized seeing in his dad's study. He'd seen his dad signing Ministry documents with it though, and Sirius himself had once warned him never to nick that particular one, so he wasn't sure why Umbridge would leave it lying around near Harry. Next to that was a long sheaf of parchment with the words 'I must not tell lies' written several dozen times, and plenty of room to spare for more, but in red ink with little splashes along the border of the heavy paper, yet a pot wasn't in sight.

Lupin's start of the chapter wasn't very interesting, Hermione having to explain to Harry why the student population was treating him this way. It was just a bit sad none of them had wondered the same, but Frank also realized, no one in here could call Harry crazy considering they'd lived through it with him. If he'd just been an outsider? Maybe...

The trio trying to drop the subject and do homework instead didn't last long, as the twins made a rather public launch of what their first Skiving Snackbox was going to be, on first-years.

The Marauders laughed in delight at the mental image, but the others had some reservations about doing the same until all were told to wake up without any setbacks. It was very impressive magic, they'd all admit to that, but the other four still felt it wasn't right, this being done on first-years. At least the volunteers should have been restricted to those of age like the twins were.

Regulus found himself scrutinizing Lupin instead of the quill he was now holding as Hermione lost her temper on the two and went over in a towering tantrum to tell them off in front of the whole common room. It was quite odd, to hear he'd be doing exactly what that Muggle-born was. It didn't bother him as much as it once would have, and that was even more bizarre.

Then he saw Sirius's lip curling in disgust as Hermione laid down the ultimate threat, threatening to tell their mother. Even Peter looked of the utmost affronted just like the rest of the Marauders. Hermione wasn't even their sibling, but he now saw himself more like the Muggle-born than ever, he'd certainly tell them off when they were being idiots, but he'd never go that far. It occurred to him though when Hermione stormed back to Harry and Ron and the Marauders kept muttering amongst themselves rather than continuing, that they were shooting the four furtive looks for more than just their distaste of the situation.

The Marauders had a lot of secrets, and now the four of them were privy to all of them. Their illegal animagus status, their werewolf, and least importantly, their map. Regulus had never had anything to hide to know that kind of gripping fear. He'd already promised Peter he wouldn't say anything about the map, but had he ever promised the same about the larger two? He didn't exactly like Lupin, but none of them were hurting anyone. He would never get Sirius in that kind of trouble, but he wasn't so sure about the other three.

He cleared his throat and waited patiently until everyone was looking at him before saying adamantly, "don't worry Siri, I've never tattled to mother and I'm not going to start now."

To his utter delight, Sirius grinned at him. It was finally that look he'd missed so often these past years, but it didn't distract him from his goal of watching the other three out of the corner of his eye to gauge their reaction.

Evans just clucked her tongue but pressed her lips together, as much as she'd ever shown on the matter of her silence. Alice was smiling at the display, and he hadn't seen her give any ill will towards anyone to worry about. It was Longbottom though who shifted his weight nervously and may be the problem.

Frank would have protested if anyone asked though. Dumbledore had been the one to invite the werewolf into the school and clearly nothing had, or would happen. He wasn't a snitch, he just didn't exactly want to be constantly in the same room with him. He found that even that was beginning to wear off though, he hadn't even moved behind Alice this time in the large open space of the office they were in this time. He'd been too distracted by the vivid pink on the walls nobody wanted to be next to.

Sirius tensed up like Longbottom had just done the same as Hermione and made to move forward and threaten anything he could to make him keep his mouth shut this instant, but James grabbed his arm before he could start another fight.

"We can't kill him until we're out of here, otherwise the books will stop working," he calmly, but quietly reminded.

Peter laughed, but Remus frowned uneasily at all three of them. James was joking, he knew that much, but there was something about the way he was eyeing the four that made his stomach flutter uncomfortably. What were they going to do when this mess was over, did they really trust them all to keep their silence? Even Snape, who now knew his secret as well, had left them feeling so claustrophobic in that castle lately they hadn't so much as sneezed without permission least he do something.

Did Evans even know that? She definitely hadn't known about him before all this though. It was the one thing James had talked about the previous three weeks, how little she'd been in Snivellus's company. The four of them could not just spend the last two years of their school under the thumb of five people though, or they'd do something drastic. Being in this office was only worsening the matter.

Remus kept going uneasily, seeking any form of distraction, and Hermione definitely offered that when she tried her little trick, free house-elves.

Whatever empathy Regulus had for that Muggle-born moments ago vanished, he looked likely to curse her on the spot. How dare she try and snatch away others house-elves! His mind instantly went to Kreacher and someone trying to force him to be free, it was a bleeding miracle Sirius hadn't done it in the future, and had actually considered the threat he posed to the Order if released.

Lily at least sympathized with the idea, but she still hadn't really looked into the matter like she really wanted to now before she shared any kind of opinion. Theirs were honestly the only noteworthy reactions, everyone else just got a laugh Hermione didn't even seem to realize her idea was useless considering they weren't her elves to be getting rid of and Lupin kept going with a faint smile once more.

The rest of the lessons went by without much notice until Care of Magical Creatures, when Malfoy let hint he thought Hagrid was in the same place they did, with giants. Harry's concerned reaction was understandable, none of them could still picture the grounds without him even though Harry kept mentioning it.

Luna Lovegood at least remained as memorable as ever, marching up to Harry in the middle of all eyes and declaring she believed Harry's side.

Sirius still had a dirigible plum tangled in his hair from his time in the bush, and Remus reached over and plucked it now before handing it to Prongs, who smiled fondly and announced, "I think I'm going to take a subscription to that magazine of hers."

Lily smiled without restraint, it was possibly the kindest gesture she'd ever seen him make. Then he caught her eye and gave the little plum a toss before catching it and asking, "like a pair of these as earrings Evans?"

She couldn't even make herself scowl at him, but didn't respond either, still not encouraging him.

James's heart gave an extra little flutter as she took twice as long before just looking away without a response, and he now pocketed it carefully, that was definitely no longer a joke.

Angelina's, lively, reaction to Harry's detention killed any good mood though, Quidditch tryouts even in this rainy weather would still be leagues better than this office. Even the fireplace crackled with a cold chill.

Harry finally made it to said dreaded detention, and they'd all swear the air just got colder with every word Lupin spoke.

Regulus went back to inspecting the long black feather in his hand in confusion, twisting it this way and that in the light, even as Umbridge herself said Harry wouldn't need ink for this special quill. He didn't get it-

"Hey!" He startled when Sirius lashed out and snagged it away.

Potter was hovering above the desk with his mouth hanging open like he'd only just spotted the long sheaf of parchment.

A dementor could have just appeared in the room, it couldn't get any colder in here and the air itself was draining out of all of them. Regulus stamped his foot in frustration; clearly, everyone older than him was getting something he wasn't.

"That's a Blood Quill," Peter finally answered, reaching over and pulling him farther away from the desk as Potter's face kept draining of yet more blood. "We've heard it mentioned a few times, Ministry employees use it to sign official documents. They're, for one use only, though." He finished haltingly.

Regulus finally put it together there wasn't any ink in the equation when Potter blew up the desk, and the paper that had been there. Frank moved to cover Alice, Remus raised the book as a shield, and Lily put up Protego instinctively, but the others only covered their faces as bits of wood rained down.

Curiosity admittedly flared more than anything though, Regulus was half tempted to take it back and give it a try just for the experience, but then Evans marched over to Sirius and snatched it away from him as well. He raised a brow at her but gave no reaction as she drew her wand, and then the place was raining tiny bits of what was left of the feathers from that as well.

She would have done the same if this had been used on Malfoy though, the injustice of it flaring in her like a flame far brighter than the one in here ever could.

Lupin decided to keep reading before anything else got exploded, like this book. His breath was a bit ragged though, he looked like he was going to be sick, even Peter's hand was still shaking a bit where he was holding onto the back of Regulus's robes like he was prepared to drag him farther away before one of his friends exploded next.

Regulus bit down on the inside of his cheek hard as details began to emerge, and he realized he still hadn't fully grasped the grotesqueness of the situation. Harry was having to carve into the back of his own hand, for hours, the truth Umbridge was forcing him to tell his own flesh was a lie.

By the time Harry left the detention Regulus tasted blood in his mouth from biting down too hard and quickly stopped.

The following week of this merely being repeated every night for Harry felt like some new kind of nightmare. The image of Cedric Diggory's dead body could have appeared in the middle of the room again and it would have made perfect sense. This was so disturbing, none of these teenagers could really imagine it. They'd never had to hear of anything quite like this torture, from a teacher at this school.

What was worse, was Harry doing nothing to stop it.

The shock only broke when the chapter came to an end, and Ron's miraculous Keeper position on the Quidditch team distracted no one.

No matter the differences among the eight of them, they found they could all agree on one thing. This woman needed to leave Hogwarts, now.

[nyadversary]

asking since your harry potter post was really interesting and made me wonder - are there any magic systems you really like or think are well-constructed and consistent? what are the traits of a good magic system?

oh i definitely don’t feel qualified to make any broad statements about what makes a magic system Good, it depends so heavily on what kind of story you’re trying to tell. i do want to say more about why i think the magic system in HP is ultimately bad though, and i have at least one example of a system i like to compare it with. under cut

very very early on in the HP series — i’m talking about the first few chapters of book 1 — we get the impression that magical ability does symbolize something? like think about how the series opens. the first chapter of the first book follows vernon dursley, a man who lives an extremely mundane life, likes it that way, and is highly perturbed by anything unusual happening or by anyone who seems out of the ordinary. he’s, what, CEO of a drill company or something? some comically boring but well-paying job. petunia is a housewife who passes the time spying on the neighbors. their infant son is already being spoiled and treated more like a prized possession than a human being. and these people hate anything they think is weird, which of course includes anything to do with magic. the dursleys know for a fact magic is real and it pisses them off and they hate it. 

when harry is left at their doorstep, mcgonagall protests and says the dursleys could not possibly have less in common with magical people like them. either she or hagrid says something to the effect that the dursleys are the biggest muggles around, which stuck with me because it implies that magical ability lies on a spectrum and the dursleys, who are outright opposed to anything the slightest bit unusual, are the furthest from magical anybody can be. this implies all sorts of things about what magic could represent for the series going forward — creativity, rejection of social norms, etc. — and, since these people are harry’s only living blood relatives but he winds up finding community for the first time once meeting other witches and wizards, it appears to be setting up a found family theme. which all sounds perfectly good, and people will still cite this as being a theme of the books. the main problem with that is it isn’t the intended theme going forward at all. 

JKR’s weird obsession with blood lineage honestly needs to be unpacked in a whole other post and i don’t think i’m the guy to do it but... obviously as the series goes on, the importance of blood family gets underlined again and again. it turns out harry is being protected by some sort of sacred maternal blood magic (which is never explained) and this is why he has to live with the dursleys, people he hates and has nothing in common with. the fact that they’re his blood relatives trumps anything else. magical ability generally is passed down within families, and in the later books much time is spent going over various magical lineages (voldemort’s family, dumbledore’s family, sirius’ family, the malfoy family, the hogwarts founders and their descendants, etc...). any notions of magic symbolizing creativity is undermined by the lack of actual creativity in how the magic is presented going forward (like i said in the other post, it winds up serving mainly utilitarian functions in the story) and as for rejecting the status quo, the series embraces the status quo. the happy ending the characters work 7 books to achieve just has everything “returning to normal” — voldemort is killed and the remaining death eaters dealt with, the ministry gets a new PM, hogwarts gets a new headmaster, and things continue on as they were before. issues of systemic injustice are left unaddressed, the subplots about magical beings fighting for full personhood status (centaurs, merpeople, house elves, etc) are left unresolved, slytherin house is allowed to continue on as an institution and presumably many wizards are still just as bigoted towards muggle-borns as they always were, and — oh yeah — the idea that muggles are innately inferior somehow? never explained or addressed. the takeway is just that if you can’t do magic, you suck. it’s so disappointing. all the pieces are there for a way better story (hey guys i think there might be some systemic problems with your magic school and your magic government do you wanna try fixing that maybe?) but JKR was never gonna write that story because it’s one she doesn’t believe in.

to summarize how magic works in harry potter just so i can really make it clear how boring it is:

magic ability is innate and the vast majority of people lack it. with relatively few exceptions, the ability runs in families — it’s rare for someone without magical ancestry to have the ability and it’s also rare for someone with magical ancestry to not have the ability

with only a few exceptions, all wizards are able to learn all spells. some wizards are stated to be unusually powerful but how much of this is due to raw magical potential and how much comes down to other factors like education, general intelligence and ability/willingness to learn, desire to cause harm in the case of the unforgivables, etc is unclear. some magical abilities, like being able to speak parseltongue or being a metamorphmagus (or whatever the fuck shapeshifters are called in this series) or being a seer, are innate and can’t be learned by most wizards. like magic itself, whether or not you have any extra ability seems to be genetic (these are all traits we know run in families)

in order to perform magic, devices like wands, cauldrons, etc are used as instruments or vessels to direct the user’s innate powers. there is no summoning, channeling, or ritual use involved and spells typically only go wrong if the wizard in question is inexperienced or something is wrong with their wand. with very few exceptions (the main one i can think of is divination, which is handled very ambiguously and most of what trelawney teaches is implied to be complete crap), magic works in very predictable and straightforward ways

so it all boils down to “you’re either a wizard or you aren’t, and you almost certainly aren’t unless you come from a magic family, but if you are — good news! you have basically the same abilities as any other wizard. don’t worry there’s nothing even vaguely pagan involved.”

which, like. how utterly dull. there are so many other ways one can approach these issues and nearly all of them that i can think of / have seen done are more interesting than this:

you could have a magic system where magical ability is much more specialized. instead of all magic users being all capable of more or less the same stuff, let’s say person A, B, and C are all magic users but each has a unique magical ability (say A can fly, B can talk to animals, C can become invisible) and, while they might be able to develop their individual talents and become stronger, they can’t learn each other’s skills. charlie bone, which is a crap series overall but which i do think has a more interesting magic system, falls into this category, as does a lot of superhero stuff although it’s generally not called “magic” in those stories.

another, similar, approach would be to have more specialized branches of magic that characters train under — say pyromancy, necromancy, etc. — and so, while it might be possible for a water mage to learn a fire spell or two, characters have much more individualized skillsets. RPG magic tends to be this, obviously. harry potter kind of vaguely gestures in the direction of this trope in that the professors obviously specialize in their particular subjects, but it’s not as if snape doesn’t know charms or whatever — it doesn’t amount to much of anything in practice as all the adult characters are capable of performing a diverse range of spells.

how does one wind up with the ability to do magic in the first place? is it innate, and, if so, is it random or does it run in families? is it associated with any other traits? are there drawbacks to being a magic user? can non-magical people acquire the ability to do magic through some other means, and, if so, does this represent an irreversible change? are magic users really “human” or are they something more? are non-magic users lesser? is there any loss of humanity associated with magical ability? do magic users channel their own innate power or are they channeling something else — if so, is it a godlike entity, demonic, or does it defy moral classification? is there “good” magic and “bad” magic, and, if so, is the delineation clear? if these are different branches of magic, are they wholly distinct in how they work or is there overlap? etc, etc, etc.

ultimately i don’t think anyone should be worried about finding the most unique combination of these tropes, because they’ve literally all been done 10 billion times — if i started off listing popular examples of how these tropes are handled in other media pandemic will have ended before i’m done. what’s important is how writers choose to handle these questions when telling their story. like, what does magic mean to the characters? what does their use of magic say about them? what does magic symbolize? etc... these are opportunities for the story to have Themes and Meaning and impart something to its audience! tbh i think it really says something that the magic in harry potter is so ultimately unimportant to the story that people didn’t bother asking the usual questions about what magic itself / the magic system might symbolize... if you look at what rowling might actually be trying to say with any of that, well, it’s not good.

i guess to end off with an example i like. in the bartimaeus trilogy, which is an extremely good YA series and i highly recommend, magic ability isn’t innate at all. magic in this universe is all done via summoning “demons” (energy beings from another plane of existence basically) and binding them to one’s will, which as you might expect is very dangerous if you fuck it up and summoning is on such extreme levels of academic bullshit that you basically have to study your entire life to do it safely (learning dead languages, being able to draw elaborate pentacles with perfect accuracy, etc etc). in practice, this means magic is something only the ruling class does / can afford to do. anyone in any significant position of power is a wizard, while everyone else — the “commoners” — is a second-class citizen under the thumb of what are essentially superpowered politicians. while the fact that magic exists isn’t a secret, the majority of commoners have no idea how it actually works, that it’s really just summoning and anyone can learn it. they’re being encouraged to think of wizards as innately superior/gifted and to defer to them as their betters. yknow, Or Else. there’s much more i could say about this but it’d wind up being its own post and i’d probably have to just break down the entire plot of the trilogy, but i think from what i’ve said you get a sense of the themes / commentary here. 

this has run long but point being, magic systems Can be used to say something about the story and the characters and to make some sort of thematic point or provide social commentary perhaps, and i think it’s cool when they do. harry potter tries its best to avoid having the magic mean anything and when you do try and analyze what it means, you just get a story about how some people are just way better and cooler than others because of. uh. their blood. so rather than further unpacking that suitcase i say you could just throw it away and, as they say, read another book

[fanfictionaries]

Oh So Many Years: Ch. 9 - Just A Little Bit

Pairing: Hermione Granger x Fred Weasley

Summary:

With Hermione and Harry's friendship mended, and her bond with the twins, strengthening, Hermione finds herself looking up. The only thing left to do is fix Ron's attitude and keep herself from throttling Rita Skeeter the next time she sees her.

Fred and George have found relief in both Hermione's help and her friendship. Unfortunately, as a result they've been neglecting their other friends and someone isn't too shy to point it out to them.

Warnings: Swearing, Death, Smut/18+ NSFW

Author’s Note:

I update every week before midnight on Sundays (US MST)! Please feel free to like, comment, and reblog! xoxo

Masterlist

<< Chapter 8

Oh, no I'm not the one, oh, you can ignore I'm not like those you had before Oh, hell no

  “It’s just absolutely ridiculous, right?”

“Are you still on about that?” George asked, his tone laced with practiced boredom as he laid on his back in front of the fire in the Gryffindor common room. He had somehow come into possession of a quaffle and was repeatedly tossing it in the air and catching it, occasionally passing it to Fred when the mood struck.

“Yes, I am still on about it! How anyone could read this garbage and believe it, I will never know.” Hermione threw the quill she’d been writing with onto the desk, ink blotting across her parchment, and picked up the Daily Prophet once again. An avid reader of the wizarding newspaper, Hermione never gave much thought as to whether the stories of journalist Rita Skeeter were true or not. However, as she stared at the words printed across the page for the hundredth time, she questioned whether the woman had ever written anything factual in her life. Harry had told her about the disastrous interview the night before – Rita Skeeter’s devious smile, the basic lack of attention, her casual yet inappropriate flirtations, and her Quick Note’s Quill scribbling away all the while. Therefore, it hadn’t surprised her when the article portrayed a weepy yet confidently disillusioned Harry Potter pouring his soul out and then boasting on his magical prowess. What did surprise her, though, were the last few sentences.

“…Harry Potter’s close friend, Collin Creevey, has informed us that the young Triwizard participant can regularly be found in the company of a Miss Hermione Granger – a pretty muggle born fourth year. While officially their relationship has not been confirmed, it’s hard to deny the tell-tale signs of young love,” Hermione read, her voice raising to a shout by the end. Folding the paper, she threw it aside once more, this time as far out of her reach as humanly possible. Whirling through the air, the heavy paper made contact with an unsuspecting first year walking by. Hermione winced and gave the boy an embarrassed apology before picking up her wand and cleaning the ink from her assignment. She looked at the contents of her notes thus far and huffed. The words blurred together, her anger resulting in an altogether apathetic state for anything that wasn’t the infuriating article. Turning her head, she glared at Collin Creevey from across the room as he sat in the corner with his brother and a few other younger Gryffindors. They chatted away, playing the perfect role of innocence.

“Hermione—” Harry gave her a pleading look “—could you please just let it go?” He placed a hand gently on her forearm. At that moment, two third year girls walking past, spotted the placement of his hand, and hurried past, whispering and giggling to each other. Harry removed his hand quickly, grimacing. Hermione sighed, taking a moment to think about how this affected not just herself but Harry as well. Whispers and pointing she could deal with but lies were intolerable. It was just so…immoral! However, she imagined all Harry wanted was for all of this to disappear, to forget about it, and to be able to go back to some form of normalcy. She leaned back in her chair. If she could do anything for him at that moment, it would be to do as he asked.

“Alright, I’ll let it go. But don’t think I won’t give this Skeeter woman a piece of my mind when I finally meet her.” She sat forward and began writing out her study guide for transfiguration again.

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” Harry said in amusement, before turning back to his own work.

Unlike George, Harry and Hermione sat at a table adjacent to the fire accompanied by Fred. Harry was working on an extra paper given to him by Professor Snape after his abysmal duel with Malfoy. Hermione was working on transfiguration, and Fred on his latest product. It was another sweet, similar to their Ton-Tongue Toffee, but ultimately very different. Earlier that night at dinner, Fred and George had ran into the Great Hall flushed with excitement. They pulled her away from the Gryffindor table and into the adjoining corridor, ignoring Hermione’s questions and feeble attempts to pull her wrist from Fred’s grasp. Once out of earshot from their curious peers, they began to bombard her with their latest and greatest idea – Canary Creams. Fred insisted that the idea would be hilarious, a sweet that when eaten, turned the person into a giant canary bird.

Silently, Fred slid his notebook on top of Hermione’s work and pointed to a list of possible wand movements and an incantation to charm the sweets. It really was a tricky thing when you thought about it. Sure, some sweets were already available that caused physical changes to their consumer, but none that she knew performed full form transfiguration. Pairing transfiguration, charms work, and potions was no easy feat. To successfully develop a Canary Cream, they had to produce a lasting charm that utilized transfiguration elements to result in a temporary transformation of the whole body from human to aviary. It was, to put it lightly, difficult.

George had helped early on with the charms aspect of the spell, but now they needed Hermione’s help with the transfiguration part – a subject, lucky for them, she was well versed in. Closely, she surveyed the work and found herself quite impressed. The incantation seemed to be correct and the wand movements as well, except there was just something about them that was…off. Mentally, she visualized the movements and when it finally came to the last movement, she realized the mistake. Dipping her quill into her ink, she crossed off the last tap and replaced it with a flick and then a tap, before sliding the notebook back to him. Fred shook his long ginger hair from his face and assessed the changes she made as Hermione returned to her own work. Looking down at her papers, she tried to find where she left off.

“What’s this for?” Fred whispered. Turning towards him, Hermione was caught off guard to find the boy so close, leaning towards her and pointing at her correction.

Blinking a few times, she answered, “You do want them to be human sized canaries, correct?”

Fred stared at her for a moment, and then back down at the paper before smiling. “Yeah, I suppose we do. I knew there was a reason we asked you to help.”

“If I remember correctly, I volunteered. Should I be regretting that?” Hermione teased.

“Don’t you dare Granger,” responded Fred with a wink. Heat pooled on Hermione’s face and she nervously grinned back, unsure of what to say. Fred spoke again, “Are you sure it will only be temporary?”

“What are you guys working on?” Harry asked. Hermione jumped, pulling back from Fred and the notebook they’d been piled over.

“N-nothing! I’m just helping Fred with his studies. He’s struggling in quite a few of his subjects, so he asked me to tutor him,” she lied. “Isn’t that right Fred?” She turned to him with a sweet smile.

Fred glared back at her, but ultimately cleared his throat and looked to Harry before speaking, “Yeah, I asked Granger to help me. But don’t worry Harry. It’s strictly professional. Wouldn’t want you to think I was trying to steal your girlfriend from you.” He ended his sentence with a cheeky grin. Hermione responded the only way she knew how – by kicking him in the shin under the table.

“Ow!” Fred reached under the table, and rubbing his leg. “Did you just kick me, Granger?” he asked, his long hair falling into his eyes.

“Yes, and you very well deserved it.”

Fred looked to Harry for support but only met his grinning face and a shrug of his shoulders. He then looked to his twin, still lounging on the floor but much more interested in the conversation.

“Don’t look at me, I think you always deserve a good kick in the shin,” said George, chucking the quaffle to his brother. Fred caught it easily.

“Some good friends you are,” Fred grumbled throwing the quaffle back to George before they all let out a few good-humored chuckles.

“I’d say they’re better friends to you than they are to me.” The voice took them by surprise. Looking to the portrait entrance, Hermione saw Ron, having just entered the common room to find the four enjoying themselves without him.

“Do you have a problem, mate?” Harry asked, his voice stony.

“I’m not your mate,” Ron responded, a touch on the dramatic side in Hermione’s opinion.

“Well if you’re not my mate then I guess you can just piss off. Yeah?” added Harry lightly, turning back to his work. Hermione looked between the two, feeling incredibly uncomfortable and unsure of what to do. Ron gave her a nasty glare before turning to his brothers.

“You two can’t possibly believe him, can you?”

“Yeah, we do,” Fred and George answered in unison. George sat up properly, tucking the quaffle under his arm.

“He may be the Boy Who Lived—” started George.

“—but he’s not nearly bright enough to put his name into the goblet,” Fred finished.

“Sorry mate!” the two called over to Harry who merely shrugged, finding no offense in the statement.

“What happened to family loyalty?” Ron asked his older brothers, a hurt expression on his face.

“I think there’s a ‘being a complete prat’ contingency to that concept, brother. Besides, Harry’s family too.” George stood and stretched before tossing the quaffle at Ron, who caught it unenthusiastically.

Ron turned to Hermione now. “Guess I know why you always take Harry’s side. Thought you two would at least have the decency to let me in on the secret. But I guess there’s a lot of things you don’t tell me.”

Hermione opened her mouth to argue, but before she could get a word out Ron continued, “Doesn’t matter though, everyone else agrees with me anyways.” With a final glare, he turned and headed towards the boys’ dormitories, ridding himself of the quaffle on the way.

The common room was silent after Ron’s departure. Hermione realized that everyone had stopped to listen in on the dramatic scene. She really wished they hadn’t. One look at Harry and she knew he was wishing the same thing. His shoulders were hitched all the way up to his ears and his face was unnecessarily close to his parchment. The quiet weighed on Hermione like a thick and heavy blanket. She returned to her work, but the more she stared at the pages of her book, the more uncomfortable she became. Every fiber of her being wanted to storm up those stairs and give Ronald a piece of her mind, but she was worried she didn’t have the strength. Then something Fred had said to her in the hospital wing rang clearly in her mind, giving her the strength, she needed: …there’s nothing for you to be afraid of. You’re more badass than I could ever be.

She rose, pushing back her chair. Harry, Fred, and George looked at her.

“If you’ll please excuse me,” she said politely, turning on her heel and heading towards the stairs that led up to the boys’ dormitories. She had only been in Harry and Ron’s room twice before, but she still knew the way. She climbed the spiral stairs in a fury, having no idea what she was about to say, but knowing she needed to say something. Her period of silence with Ronald Weasley had to end. Coming to the dormitory door, she pushed it open, not even bother to knock as anger and determination fueled her actions.

“Bloody hell Hermione!” Ron exclaimed, covering his bare chest. He was standing in the middle of the room clad only in his pants, trousers and shirt strewn aside in a pile, as he uncomfortably shifted. His face and chest were red as a cherry tomato, flushed in embarrassment, but he glared at her all the same. Hermione coughed, caught off guard by his state of undress. She had never seen Ron without his shirt, let alone his trousers. Trying not to focus on the freckles that spattered his chest, the flush that now covered her face, or the strange tug in the pit of her stomach, she pushed past the awkwardness of the situation and continued on with what she originally intended to do. Looking to her left she noticed Neville was also present in the room, confused and uncomfortable. She smiled sweetly at him.

“Neville, would you please excuse Ronald and I for a few minutes?”

The pudgy blonde boy nodded quickly and jumped from his bed, fleeing the room in a full run.

“Hermione, what are you doing in my room?!” Ron asked in a yell.

Hermione took a deep breath. “I’ve come to make peace. To have a heart-to-heart as they say…” Casually but with purpose she strolled further into the room, past Ron, to sit on the edge of his bed.

“Now? While I’m sodding naked?”

Hermione rolled her eyes, starting to feel normalcy return at Ron’s thickness. “Well put some clothes on if it’s so important to you, but yes, now.”

Ron stared at her, frozen where he stood. When he failed to move, she raised her eyebrows and tilted her head insistently, urging him to hurry up. Ron scurried to his trunk and pulled on a pair of striped bottoms and a vibrant orange Chudley Cannon’s shirt, before plodding over to sit next to her on the bed. He pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around his legs, closing himself off to her and the world around him.

“What?” Ron stubbornly asked, avoiding her gaze.

“I think I deserve an apology from you,” said Hermione bluntly.

Ron looked up at her in surprise. “I need to apologize to you?!”

“Yes. You do—” Hermione stayed strong, squaring her shoulders “—Ronald, we have been friends for nearly four years. More importantly you and Harry have been best friends for just as long. Have we once ever lied to you? Deceived you? Betrayed you? Not supported you?”

Ron didn’t answer. Instead he looked down, resting his forehead against his knees.

“No, we haven’t—" she went on “—Now I don’t know what’s exactly been said or not said between you and Harry, and it’s not really my business. All I know is that when you accuse me of not being a good friend to you, it hurts. I’ve done my best to try to support you and Harry as I see fit. And that support involves believing and trusting you both when you tell me something. So, when Harry tells me he didn’t put his name in the goblet…I believe him. Because he’s my friend and until he does something to make me not trust him, I will continue to trust him. I’m not ‘siding’ with him to spite you and honestly this whole story you’ve concocted, that we’re conspiring against you, makes you sound like an absolute loon.” Hermione finished her speech and tucked her own legs up to her chest, hoping Ronald would respond to what she said with reason. When he didn’t automatically bite her head off or demand she leave his room, she let out a deep breath of relief.

She watched as Ron’s mouth scrunched up in conflict, his long hair covering his eyes and most of his emotion, until finally, he spoke, “I know you two aren’t plotting against me.”

Hermione looked at him in confusion.

“Well I mean, I guess at first I thought you were, but now not really. It’s just not fair. No one likes to be second, especially to Harry Potter. Harry Potter’s stupid friend…”

Hermione’s heart broke. She unwrapped herself and scooted sideways, pulling Ronald into a tight hug. He stiffened at the contact for a moment and then relaxed. They had never been physically close, the way she and Harry were, but Hermione felt this situation called for it.

“You’re not Harry Potter’s stupid friend, Ronald. You may not see it, but you’re worth a lot more than you realize. Are you a bit lazy when it comes to schoolwork? Sure—” they chuckled at her comment “—but you are not stupid.”

She pulled back, looking into Ron’s eyes for the first time in weeks. “You know, I think if he could, Harry would switch places with you in a second. Fame isn’t always a good thing.”

Ron nodded and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his side. Hermione rested her head on his shoulder and felt the heavy weight of Ron’s head atop hers.

“I’m sorry Hermione,” he mumbled sincerely, slightly begrudgingly, but sincerely, nonetheless. Hermione smiled. Despite his bullheaded nature and obnoxious tendencies, Ron really did have a big heart. She was warmly reminded for a brief moment why, despite all his character flaws, she possessed an affection for him.

“So, how are you going to make things up with Harry?” She perked up, breaking the nice serenity of their resolution with their next challenge. Ron sighed in frustration.

“I don’t know,” Ron said, dropping his arm off her and rubbing his face.

Hermione hopped off the bed. “Well, do it on your own time, I suppose, but try not to take too long. Harry’s going to need the both of us this year.”

Ron stood as well and walked her to the door, nodding in agreement. Hermione pulled the door open and turned, looking over Ron’s kind face. A moment of impulse and Lavender’s nagging words to make a lasting impression took over and before she knew it, she was lifting onto her tip toes and placing a quick peck on Ron’s cheek. She watched as Ron brought a hand up to where her lips had touched, his cheeks turning a shade of pink under his fingertips. Throats cleared from behind her and Hermione turned, finding the twins standing in the stairwell, arms crossed and smirking. They had obviously been snooping.

“Goodnight Ronald,” said Hermione quickly, closing the door in his face and turning towards the twins in annoyance.

“Is this the young love Skeeter was talking about then?” asked George amusedly.

Hermione rolled her eyes, answering in irritation, “Get an earful then?”

“Nah, couldn’t really hear through the door,” George admitted in disappointment.

“Too thick,” added Fred.

“You know, we really should invent something for that,” mused George, looking to his brother.

“I’ll start whipping up the schematics tonight,” bit Hermione sarcastically as she pushed past them and headed down the stairs. She found Harry right where she left him and sat back down in her seat. Neither said anything as she picked up her quill and got back to work. They sat there for quite some time until Harry finally broke the silence. She wasn’t sure how late it was, but the fire was beginning to burn low and they were the only two left in the common room.

“I got a letter from Padfoot last week,” he informed her. Hermione perked up at the news, hoping that something good would come from Harry’s godfather.

“What did he say?” she asked, setting down her quill and rearranging her notes.

“Not much—” Harry ran a hand through his unruly hair “—he wants to talk on the twenty-second. Guess he doesn’t trust sending letters anymore.” 

Sirius Black, also affectionately known as Padfoot, had great reason to be untrusting of the mail as he was currently still on the run from the Ministry of Magic. Accused of a crime he did not commit, it was barely a year ago he used his Animagus form to break out of Azkaban, the wizarding prison. Then through a series of incredibly complicated and confusing events (some of which included time travel), she and Harry helped him make his overall escape on the back of a hippogriff.

“Talk? How are you going to talk?” Hermione asked, placing her things into her book bag. Surely Sirius wasn’t planning on coming onto the school grounds. With ministry officials scurrying around for the tournament, Hogwarts was a risky place to be. The whole country of England wasn’t a safe place for him really.

“I don’t know. He just said to be in the common room at one in the morning,” admitted Harry as he collected his things as well. Hermione frowned.

“Well I just hope he doesn’t plan on putting himself in danger of getting caught or seen,” she said, looking purposefully at her best friend.

“I just hope he has some advice on how to not die this year in the tournament,” said Harry. Hermione bit her lip and something tugged sharply in her chest. She reached across the table and placed a hand atop Harry’s.

“Harry James Potter, you are not going to die. Not if I have anything to say about it,” Hermione proclaimed the fact with so much conviction, she surprised even herself. Harry looked at her though his round glasses, his green eyes scanning her face. For what? Sincerity? Truth? Answers? Hermione did not know, but what she did know was that she wasn’t going to let Harry down. Her breakthrough with Ronald was only the first step. He placed his other hand over hers and gave her a tight smile. Hermione blinked rapidly, fighting the tears that threatened to spill down her face. After a moment they stood and left the common room to their respective dormitories. Not another word was needed.

    Fred sat at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall eating his lunch. He thought there must have been some greater power looking out for him today because they were serving his favorite – shepherd’s pie. The day had been a rough one so far and the little comfort that came from his favorite food was enough to take the edge off. That morning, after another futile attempt to catch a visiting Ludo Bagman, he and George had gone over their inventory and funds. Needless to say, it was depressing. Turns out they needed the money Ludo owed them more than they thought. They were for all intents and purposes, broke. The advertisement they sent out for had profited quite well, but with their mother’s raid before the start of term, their supply was limited and soon they would no longer be able to supply products to keep up with demand. He and George wagered they could make a larger profit off of new and exciting products, but they really only had a few sickles and knuts for pocket money. The whole situation left them with one option.

“Harry—" Fred spoke, catching the attention of the dark-haired fourth year “—mind being a dear and letting Georgie and me borrow Hedwig?” He watched as Harry swallowed his sip of pumpkin juice and wipe his mouth with the back of his sleeve.

“Uh, sure. What for?”

“That my dear boy—” smirked George “—is classified.”

“Really on a need to know basis,” Fred added, sniffing importantly.

“You know, I think I’d rather not know actually. But sure, she’s up in the owlery. Just make sure you bring her a treat, or she’ll be put out for a while and I’ll have to pay the price,” Harry informed them before stuffing a forkful of mashed potatoes in his mouth. It was at that moment Fred spotted a flushed and chipper Hermione entering the Great Hall. Her hair was especially full and bouncy as she skipped towards them, her cheeks and nose a soft pink hue. Fred imagined she would be in a better mood today after what he could only imagine was a reconciliation between her and Ron last night.

“Good afternoon,” she greeted the lot of them cheerfully, setting her bag down and sitting next to Harry.

“What’s got you all pink? Just come from a hot snogging session?” George asked cheekily. Hermione’s face transitioned from its soft pink to a brilliant red. Lifting her nose up in indignation, she trained a disapproving look on George.

“If you must know, I’ve just come from Hagrid’s—” she loaded the plate in front of her with shepherd’s pie and vegetables “—he had me over for tea, and so naturally I’m starving.”

Harry snorted, shooting pumpkin juice across the table. Fred cried in despair as the last of his lunch became covered in regurgitated liquid.

“Gross mate,” said George, scrunching up his face as he wiped his wet cheek with his robes.

“Sorry,” coughed Harry sheepishly.

“Did you see the new notice on the bulletin board this morning?” asked Hermione. They all shook their heads. She rolled her eyes, obviously annoyed they didn’t keep rigorously up to date with the daily affairs of the school like she did. Fred watched hypnotically as Hermione tucked her hair behind her ear and took a bite of her food. He concentrated on the odd way her nose scrunched ever so slight when she chewed, almost like she was intrigued by the taste alone. Hermione had a very small nose. Not in a disproportionate way, but in a very pleasing way, he decided. Thin across the bridge, it’s up-turned end pointed ever so delicately into the air. It was also spattered with freckles, much like his own but not quite as obvious. From far away you’d never see them, but as you got closer, you’d notice the light patterns of golden brown that adorned the bridge spreading under her eyes.

“Earth to Freddie!” George bellowed in Fred’s ear.

Fred jumped, covering his assaulted ear drum. “What?!”

“I was saying they just put out the announcement that next weekend is a Hogsmeade weekend. I thought maybe we could all go!” Hermione proposed for the second time.

“Or do you prefer to sit and stare at Hermione all day like a twat?” George asked.

Fred frowned at his brother. “I wasn’t staring. I was simply lamenting over the fact that I have to buy Granger a week’s supply of sugar quills.” Luckily, they were a very cheap sweet, thought Fred.

Hermione smiled sweetly, but Fred caught the devilish glint in her eye he was becoming very familiar with.

“I don’t know Hermione—” said Harry “—you might have to go without me.”

“Why?” she asked, her face falling. Fred watched Harry lean in and whisper something to Hermione. She pulled back and nodded, her face a mask of concern and understanding. Leaning back in, it was her turn to whisper something to him – information that he and George were not privy to. Her small hand reached up from under the table and landed on Harry’s upper arm as they pulled back smiling. Obviously, they had come to some kind of agreement that both were happy with. Fred felt an odd sensation wash over him as he watched the two engage in their private conversation. It was the same feeling he got in the hospital wing with Angelina and again when he watched Hermione kiss his little brother on the cheek.

If he didn’t know any better, watching this interaction, he might have believed Rita Skeeter’s accusation that her and Harry were entangled. He shook his head, clearing his mind of the strange route his thoughts had taken. Glancing down the table his little sister, Ginny, was sat next to Neville Longbottom and a few of her friends, laughing and gossiping as they ate. Just past them sat a group of first years looking over a copy of Seeker Weekly, and then further down were Lee, Alicia, Katie, and Angelina. The first three seemed to be engaged in an excited conversation. Lee was lecturing Katie on something with a tired look on his face while Katie shook her head and brought a hand up to her brow. Alicia watched the two, grinning as she stifled a laugh. But the last, Angelina, was looking at him. As their eyes connected, he gave a small friendly smile. However, he was not greeted with a smile in return like he expected. Instead she stood abruptly from the table and headed towards the exit to the Great Hall.

 Fred stood too. “I’ll catch you later Georgie. Gotta’ go take care of something.”

He didn’t wait for a response as he raced out of the Great Hall to catch up with Angelina. He found her not too far down the corridor.

“Angelina! Hey, wait up!” called Fred, jogging towards her. Angelina stopped and turned, waiting for him to close the distance between them. From her crossed arms and scowl, Fred could tell she was upset. “What’s the matter? What’s wrong?” he asked, placing a hand on her cheek.

She brushed him off. “Nothing,” responded Angelina, pushing her dark braids over one shoulder, and looking away from him. However, Fred could tell from the tone in her voice that there was in fact, something wrong.

“Come on. Don’t lie to me Angie. You can tell me. What’s wrong?” implored Fred as he reached out his hand again and pulled her face towards his, coaxing her to look at him.

“Oh, now you’re here for me? How nice of you to actually pay me the time of day,” bit the athletic chaser. Her reaction struck Fred dumb. Is she mad at me? he wondered in utter bewilderment.

“What have I done?!” he asked defensively. Just then a group of Hufflepuffs rounded the corner, casting sideways glances at the quarreling couple. Angelina grasped Fred’s wrist, pulling him from out of the middle of the corridor and tucking them into a small alcove.

“We haven’t spoken in weeks! You’re always too busy hanging out with Granger and Potter to spend time with any of your friends,” accused Angelina, chewing on the inside of her cheek, and shifting her weight from foot to foot. A pang of guilt rushed through Fred. He ran a hand through his hair and let out a puff of breath. Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t really hung out with any of his usual friends in a while. Lee, he saw nearly every day as they shared a room, but he couldn’t remember the last time he spoke to any of them for more than a few minutes. He looked back at the girl in front of him to begin his apology but before he could, Angelina continued.

“Look, I’m going to ask you something and I want you to just answer me honestly. I won’t freak out or anything, just be honest—” Angelina took a deep breath “—do you maybe have a crush…or something on someone?”

“What?” asked Fred.

“You know? Like on Granger or…whatever?”

“Her—Granger, she’s just a friend. She’s been having a bit of a hard go of it lately, you know, with Ron and Harry off their rockers. George and I sort of took it as our responsibility to look after her. But you know, as friends. She’s a cool girl and I like her alright, but just as a friend. Only a friend. That’s it,” said Fred, feeling dizzy at just how many times he used the word ‘friend’. It was as he repeated the word, however, that he wondered just how true it was. He hadn’t ever really thought of Granger in that way. Perhaps that fact alone meant they were just friends. Angelina seemed unconvinced.

“As for not spending time with you—” Fred went on “—I’m sorry. We haven’t actually been spending all our time with Granger. Mostly George and I have been working on our joke shop stuff. We’ve hit a couple of roadblocks you see.” He let out a frustrated sigh as he thought about the lack of money and dwindling supplies.

Angelina’s expression softened. “I guess I’m just used to having you all to myself. It’s been hard to adjust what with quidditch being canceled and everything…” said Angelina. Fred smiled knowing that was probably the closest he’d ever get to hearing Angelina admit she was wrong.

“You know, Hogsmeade weekend is coming up. How about you and I spend it together?”

“Really?”

“Yeah, it’ll be fun.”

“Okay,” Angelina smiled sweetly.

“Are we good then?” asked Fred. He watched as Angelina’s smile turned into a playful smirk.

“Yeah, we’re good. But we have a lot of catching up to do.” With that statement she grabbed his wrist again and started pulling him down the corridor.

“Where are we going?” Fred asked dumbly.

“To catch up. I was thinking it’s been a while since we paid a visit to our secret passageway.”

“Oh—” said Fred and then realization struck “—Oooooohh! Oh, you saucy minx.” And with that his pace quickened till the two of them were practically running towards poor Gregory the Smarmy.

Chapter 10 >>

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@theworldisugly-22

[slytherinknowitall]

To Bed A Death Eater

Chapter 2: Doubt

(Click here for chapter 1!)

Disclaimer: I don’t own the “Harry Potter” book series. The story of “Harry Potter” is the property of J. K. Rowling, it is not my intellectual property. There is no financial gain made from this nor will any be sought. This is for entertainment purposes only.

Less than ten minutes later, there was a timid knock at her door, and Hermione would have been lying if she had said that that sound did not make her heart skip a beat.

Putting aside the book she’d been absentmindedly flicking through, she walked to the door with a rather stiff and unsteady gait before pulling it open to reveal the familiar figure of the Potions Master.

“Professor Snape,” she whispered breathlessly, trying hard to ignore the sudden lump in her throat. “Um, please, come in.”

Stepping aside, she watched as the man hesitantly took one cautious step into the crammed room; and the unusual sight of his visible wariness made her mentally smack her own forehead.

Of course. He can’t see!

“Here, let me help you,” she offered, reaching out her hand without a moment’s thought. When she touched his forearm, he drew a sharp intake of breath. “Oh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you, sir.”

Snape did not say anything in response. For an agonizingly long time, they just stood like that in the doorway of her bedroom, her hand on his arm, the awkwardness in the air virtually palpable. It was only when there was suddenly the sound of commotion coming from downstairs that Hermione summoned up the nerve to pull him inside, locking the door behind them. Getting out her wand, she applied a silencing charm as well as some protective wards for good measure.

Better safe than sorry. It certainly wouldn’t do any good to have someone just barge in.

Turning back around to face him, she tentatively grabbed his elbow and guided him towards her bed. She could not help but silently cringe as she saw him there, seated on her tiny twin-size bed, thinking about what might be happening soon in that very spot. But alas, her small bedroom, which she had moved into a mere two months earlier, did not offer any other sitting accommodations. And so, though her heart was trembling so very terribly, she went and sat next to him.

For a while, neither one of them spoke. Kneading her fingers, the young woman struggled to ignore how uncomfortably close she presently was to her former teacher as she stared out the window overlooking the deserted street outside. Looking back, she could not have said with certainty whether it had only been a few minutes or several hours, but by the time the streetlights came on, she finally plucked up the courage to say, “I’m glad that you decided to come here so that we can talk in private.”

“I did not have much of a choice,” Snape admitted huskily. “Alastor practically pushed me upstairs while Albus tried to contain everyone else in the kitchen.”

“They’re still not very thrilled about this, aren’t they?”

He gave an affirmative grunt. “Most of them were ready to jump at my throat and kill me with their bare hands right there and then.”

“Oh …” Hermione had to swallow hard. “I’m sorry. They really ought not to treat you like that.”

“I don’t blame them. I truly have half a mind to turn my own wand on myself.”

A troubled frown creased Hermione’s forehead. There was an obvious hint of blatant self-hatred dripping from his words, and she did not like that. She did not like that one bit.

But before she even had the chance to respond, he continued, “I will be honest with you … I do not even know what to say to you right now.”

Vaguely tracing the diamond pattern of the quilt they were sitting on with one finger, she tried her best to sound nonchalant as she mumbled, “Well, why don’t you simply tell me whether or not you accept my offer.”

“Miss Granger, I –”

“Would you mind if we used first names?” she interrupted him. “Just for today. It’s just that formalities would make this whole thing even weirder than it already is.”

She saw him hesitate for a second.

“All right … Hermione,” he ultimately conceded, and it was so weird to hear him properly address her by her given name for the very first time – though she had to admit that it sounded quite nice coming from his lips. Something about that deep voice of his made her stomach clench up into knots. “As much as I appreciate it, I obviously cannot accept your proposal.”

“Why not?”

“Even forgetting the fact that you were my student for seven years and that I am a lot older than you, I could never in good faith make you endure such a thing. This, this curse,” he spat out the word with disgust. “Is a lot more powerful than you could ever even imagine. It would strip me of all control and force me to do unspeakable things to you that could very well destroy your sanity.”

He turned away from her in an unsuccessful attempt to hide his facial expression which was filled with nothing but self-loathing. “Even now, I can feel the dark magic coursing through my veins, tugging at my mind. It senses your presence. I can hear it whisper to me, bidding me to just rip off this stupid blindfold and take you right here. Merely sitting next to you already requires more will power than any time I have had to shield my mind from the Dark Lord.”

The witch’s breathing hitched in her throat. His crude confession made her heart beat so fast that it was almost threatening to break out of her ribcage. Willing herself to take a deep breath, she squeezed her eyes shut and forced herself to stay put.

No. No, you can do this. For the Order. For Harry.

“I don’t believe that Professor Dumbledore would have sent you up here if he thought that there was a chance of me being seriously harmed,” she said softly, her eyes still closed. “And I also don’t believe that any kind of dark magic would ever be able to entirely overpower your morals and your good heart.”

He snorted with biting laughter. “Then you clearly do not know me well at all. Or him, for that matter. All that old madman cares about is the cause. We are all nothing but mere chess pieces in that little, rigged game of his he likes to play.”

“Don’t say that –”

“But it’s the truth! Don’t you see?” His tone gradually got louder and louder. “Any reasonably sane man in his position would have simply hired an unsuspecting prostitute, slipped her a couple of potions and then sent her back home with an altered memory and a nice, big bag filled to the brim with Galleons, blissfully unaware of any specifics. But not Albus. No, in his mind, raping the Muggle-born third of the Golden Trio is the perfect way to feign loyalty to the enemy and thus securing his plaything’s rank among the Dark Lord’s inner circle. Ha! As distraught as he might have acted, he knew from the beginning that you’d be the one to volunteer. Only you’d be foolish enough to let the greasy git of the dungeons fuck you in an attempt to save his pathetic, miserable life. You and your stupid saviour complex. So please, don’t be so naïve. This is all just a fucking charade to that bloody bedlamite!”

What followed that angry outburst was silence – complete and utter silence. Not even the rustling of the trees outside or the rapid palpitations inside both of their chests seemed to be able to penetrate their noiseless bubble. Hermione could feel her own pulse thumbing in her ears, and her mouth felt almost disgustingly dry. Wordlessly counting to a hundred, she at last opened her eyes and dared to cast a glance at the wizard. He was sitting in a hunched-over position, his face buried in his hands. Never before had she seen him like that, so evidently helpless, so vulnerable. For some reason, it nearly made her feel physically sick to witness him in such a state.

“I understand your apprehension, I really do,” she muttered gently. “I’m not quite keen on having to do this either. But I honestly don’t see any other way out of this mess. Somehow or the other, the curse must be broken … and time is running out.”

“I know,” he croaked out, the words muffled by his hands.

“And for all his faults, Professor Dumbledore is right. We cannot put ourselves before the cause. Especially not during dark times like these.” She could not stop her face from twisting into an anguished grimace. “Besides, I dare say that you are being a bit naïve yourself if you think that tricking a stranger would not weigh heavy on your conscience, too.”

Snape slowly lifted his head a little, allowing his chin to come to a rest on the pressed-together tips of his fingers, which were horribly stained from years of daily brewing.

“I don’t think that you are fully aware of what you are getting yourself into here. This would not be like any of your previous sexual encounters, Hermione. There would be no romance, no pleasure, no satisfaction. It would be hard and fast and downright animalistic.” He squared his shoulders. “And though I have never made it a habit to keep up with my students’ private lives, I do not think that it would be wrong of me to assume that an ever-busy academic like you most likely has little experience with such things.”

Hermione felt the warmth creep into the apples of her cheeks as her whole body stiffened, and that movement did not go unnoticed.

“I mean, you do have some experience, right?”

No answer.

“Oh god, you aren’t still a virgin, are you?” Snape rasped despairingly before letting his head fall back into his hands.

Hermione shifted her weight with unease. “I do not attach any value to my virginity if that is the problem, sir,” she was quick to assure him, glad to know that he could not see how awfully red-faced she was at that very instant. “When you think about it, it’s really nothing but a social construct. Will I be a different person afterwards? No. Will you be dead should I refuse? Most likely. So the decision is easy, really. The only reason why I … why I haven’t done it yet is because such a situation has simply never arisen before.”

“No! No, this is deranged!” he cried out as his entire body seized up and started to shake. “How could I ever live with myself knowing that I took something like that from you?”

She bit her lower lip. “I very much doubt that it would be that much better to wait for my first true love or maybe even just a drunken night out to come around first,” she argued with furrowed brows. “Because even in that case, it would be awkward and fumbling and, in all likelihood, disappointing. With you, now, it would at least serve a bigger purpose. It would be special – in its own absurd way.”

“I can’t,” he whispered in a quivering voice.

Suddenly feeling bold, Hermione grabbed his wrists and pulled his arms towards her, forcing him to face her.

“You don’t have a choice,” she told him in a beseeching yet stern manner. “You are far too valuable to the Order to stupidly risk your life like this.”

Snape opened his mouth as though to say something in response, but then he quickly closed it again. Pulling free from her grasp, he leaned back until his shoulders were touching the wall against which her bed had been pushed. He looked like a picture of misery. His complexion was of a deathly pale colour, his jaw was clenched, and a few beads of sweat could be seen running down his forehead.

“I do not want to do anything against your will,” he insisted weakly.

“I wouldn’t be too concerned about that if I were you. I –“ She dithered for just a second. Come on, Hermione. Don’t lose him now. “I am rather physically attracted to you.”

His head jerked up in surprise. “You are?”

“Y-yes,” she replied bashfully, all at once feeling dreadfully shy. “I find you quite handsome, actually.”

She was not lying just to make him feel better either. Truth be told, she’d had a slight fascination with him ever since he took over the Defence Against the Dark Arts position during her sixth year, when his passion for the subject really started to shine through – particularly during his more physical demonstrations.

Still, she was glad when he did not ask her to elaborate any further. Watching as he ran a tremulous hand through his jet-black hair, she heard him say, “Surely you are aware of the fact that some men would not take kindly to the fact that you are not chaste anymore?”

“Good!” Hermione huffed exasperatedly. “If they truly measure my worth as a person by who I have given my body to, then I’d rather have them think of me as used goods and leave me alone all together.”

“And what about Weasley?”

She looked at him with confusion in her eyes. “What about him?”

“He seemed … very much opposed to the idea.”

“Oh, he can sod right off!” she snarled angrily, leaping to her feet. “I don’t want anything from him. I never have.”

Walking the short distance to her nearby dressing table, she pulled open one of its drawers and fished out a black hair tie which she then used to fasten her brown curls into a low ponytail at the nape of her neck. Checking her appearance in the half-tarnished mirror, she could see the man rub his hands across his thighs in obvious discomfort.

“It could hurt,” he said in what sounded like a last-ditch effort to keep from having to yield himself to his fate.

Turning around, her mouth twisted into a wry smile.

“I’m sure that I have experienced worse,” she told him calmly, and for a moment, neither one of them said anything. Hermione sat back down next to him. “But like I said, I don’t think you’d ever be actively out to hurt me. I trust you, you know?”

Even though they were mostly hidden behind the blindfold, she could still see his eyebrows lift in surprise. It was abundantly clear that even the mere notion of someone like her trusting someone like him seemed utterly unfathomable to the dark wizard.

There was another short moment of heavy silence. Then, a deep sigh escaping his lips, he finally asked, “Are you really sure?”

The tone of his voice nearly broke her heart. He was normally such an assertive and stern man, but now he just sounded so defeated. It made for an easy choice.

“Yes.”

(Click here for chapter 3!)

[heistmaster69]

pariet lilium (2)

pariet lilium

pariet lilium by @heistmaster69 chapter two

A/N: ive accepted that nobody will ever read this and im chill with that but if you do read this let me know pls ALSO TO MY FIRST FOLLOWER/MUTUAL @fanficflaneuse THANK YOU SO MUCH this is dedicated to you love! 

a chill 1.5k words

chapter one

~

“Sorry, Reed. They told me to.”

Frankie’s eyes jolted open. She felt afraid, alone. Her face was stiff and her eyes were full of tears. They ached, as did her chest. She sat up steadily and leaned against her bed frame, wiping a few stray tears with her sleeves. She grasped at her sternum, trying to ease what felt like a fifty-pound weight crushing her lungs. The tears were still falling, she had a lump in her throat, and she was coated in a sticky layer of sweat. It felt like the air in the dormitories was thick with dust. 

Frankie pushed her blankets aside and brushed her dark hair out of her face. A gentle light from the common room illuminated the room enough so she could see, so she stepped down, feeling the cold stone on her feet as she walked to the bathroom. The squeak of the faucet and the cold water dripping down her face didn’t do much to ease her. She needed a hug, and she wanted one from him.  Frankie pulled her quilt off of the bed and walked down to the common room to find some calm in a cup of coffee and the fire. After getting her mug, she heard a voice.

“Chess.” Draco sighed. His nickname for her. He sat in an armchair, blonde hair a mess, bags under his eyes with and a strange kind of emotion swimming within them.

“Merlin, did you sleep?” Frankie stepped toward the armchair, moving to stand in front of him. He couldn’t look at her. “Draco?”

He shook his head.

“Was it him again?” She sat on the rug in front of him, resting her forearms on his knees. 

“I could ask you the same question.” He met her gaze and she saw what was in his eyes. Fear. 

It’s no lie that Lucius Malfoy was a Death Eater. The most loyal of them all. After what happened in the Chamber of Secrets last year, Draco’s nightmares had been full of him. His father returning to the Dark Lord and pulling Draco down alongside him. Frankie’s dreams were daisies compared to the thunderstorms of Draco’s, but he understood her. They understood each other.

“Yeah.” She looked away. “I just feel stupid. I should’ve known or something.”

Draco moved her face to meet his eyes, bringing his hand up to wipe away one of her tears. “What he did to you was a right awful move, Frankie. You didn’t deserve it.” Draco grabbed her coffee and took a swig like it was firewhiskey.

“He thought so.” She scoffed. “I can’t even say his name, let alone hear it. It’s such a stupid thing to be messed up about-I’m sorry, are you even alright?”

The two sat in silence for a minute, a few minutes.

“He’s trying to come back, Chess.” His voice broke. “I’m terrified.”  He sounded so scared and it broke her heart. 

In one fell swoop, Draco pulled Frankie off the floor and onto him. She immediately hugged him. She needed this as much as he did. As she felt his cries, she began to break into strangled sobs.

They sat there, holding each other, until the sun began to rise.

~

No one should have to take Divination this early in the morning. Trelawney babbled on about tea leaves and how they show the future, when really, all Frankie saw in Theo’s teacup was a blob.

“Franks-”

“What is it with you boys and saying everything but my name?” Frankie, Francesca, Chess, and now Frank. “It’s only a little funny.”

“Not my problem, Frank, but what is my problem is these tea leaves. I’m seeing something very exciting-Blaise- come take a look at this!” Blaise turned from his table with Draco, peering into Theo’s teacup. 

“Woah, Francesca!” He exclaimed, nudging Draco to take a look as well, but he must’ve missed the joke, because he just looked confused. 

Theo showed her the leaves, it looked like two-oh.

“Well it looks like your prophecy’s come true, Frankster.” He smirked.

“Go on, Theodore.” She laughed.

“Well here, you see, it says that you have some massive knockers!” Blaise, Theo, Crabbe, Goyle and most of the boys in the near vicinity burst in to laughter, Frankie with them, shaking her head. 

“Shove off, Zabini.” Cher laughed. Pansy and Daphne began throwing crumpled up sheets of paper at the boys. 

Frankie noticed that Draco snuck a glance.

Daphne piped up. “Cher, don’t worry, Theodore can’t help it. He wants you too bad.” The boys led a chorus of oohs, shoving him and snickering.

Frankie couldn’t stop herself from seeing how Draco reacted.

He didn’t.

~

Frankie day in the library, sitting in between to rows of books. She was piling up a stack of books on spells, spell creation, and the Unforgivables when she saw a blur of bright blonde hair.

“Malfoy? Malfoy-”

He interrupted. “I’m sorry about the boys, earlier.”

Frankie rolled her eyes. “If you actually cared about me you would know that I didn’t give a single-”

“-I care about you Chess-where the hell is this coming from?” He walked up to her and leaned against the stacks.

Salazar, did I say that out loud? “I was only joking, dimwit.”

"If this is about last night-" He started.

"What about last night?" Frankie's heart rate began to accelerate.

"Nothing-I-It just happens often, not that I mind, Merlin I do not mind, but I was just hoping that I didn't make you uncomfortable or anything." He is so cute. Wait-no, no he's not.

"You didn't, I was thinking the same thing, actually." She let out s quiet giggle, not seeing the blush that crept up his neck.

"How would you make me uncomfortable?"

"I don't know. I must've been crushing you or something. Plus I'm definitely not on the top of anyone's list of People They'd Want To Cuddle. Most people just see me as the fat girl who no one would want to shag."

"Who wouldn't want to shag-" He coughed, praying that she didn't hear that. "I mean, you were definitely not crushing me, and Chess, cuddling you was a very nice experience."

Frankie chuckled to herself, turning back to her book. "Thanks, Malfoy."

“Yeah, yeah, okay.” He sat down across from her. “What are you reading?”

“About the Killing Curse.” She didn’t look up from the book, but she wasn’t focusing on the words anyway.

“Merlin, Chess. How wonderful.” They shared a laugh.

“Do you know what a Horcrux is, Malfoy?” Frankie looked up, pointing at a picture on the tattered pieces.

“Well it sounds lovely. What is it?”

“It’s disgusting. When you use the killing curse, you break your soul, and it can sort of create immortality, in a twisted way.”

“Immortality? So by using the curse, you save your soul to live another, well, someone else’s lifetime.”

“That’s the point. It’s really creepy.” Frankie tossed the book to him.

“It says here that Herpo the Foul used them to-bloody hell that’s disgusting!” He tossed the book back to her with a grimace.

“A Horcrux can be created by anyone who commits murder, if they want to.”

“I wonder if You-Know-Who made those.” Draco wondered. “I mean, my father told me stories that would make your skin crawl, and he was always blabbing about immortality and being invincible-” His face fell.

“Malfoy, do you think-”

“No,”

No.

“Oh my god, Malfoy. Oh my god.” Frankie threw the book and scrambled to her feet as Draco did as well. “Bloody, god, Merlin, oh my god!”

He was panting heavily, Frankie grabbed fistfuls of her hair, feeling nauseated.

“I think I’m gonna be sick, Chess, Merlin.”

“He-” She looked him dead in the eye. “He did that, didn’t he?” 

“Bloody hell Chess, Salazar-” He stared into her soul, and reached to grab her sleeve. “We’ve got to tell Snape.”

~

“And why, might I ask, were you researching Horcruxes to begin with, Miss Reed?”

“Professor, you wouldn’t believe me if I told you-” Frankie panted, still freaking out.

“Why is it important? What’s important is that the Dark-I mean You-Know-Who is still alive.” Draco shouted. 

“Malfoy, It’s fine. Professor I believe there is a way to reverse the effects of the Killing Curse, and Horcruxes are the key to figuring it out. It’s a strange loophole, I guess.” Frankie sat down next to Draco.

Professor Snape scoffed, but the two could tell that there was a strange gleam in his eye. “There is no cure for the Killing Curse-”

“It’s not a cure, Snape. It would separate the soul of the dead with the piece of the soul of the killer and return it to the dead’s body somehow I just haven’t figured out-you know what-I’m not an idiot, I’ve been studying this for my entire life-”

“He Who Must Not Be Named has not returned, Francesca. Ten points from each of you for wasting my time with your childish nonsense and being out after curfew.” He stood up and went into his quarters with a flourish of his robe. 

Frankie hadn’t even realized that Draco had been holding her hand the entire time.

~

A/N: okay so i know that this isn’t as long as the last one, but i felt it was a good place to stop. I’m going ultimate slowburn slow with this fic lol. pls let me know what u think ! love you all ! mwah.

[adorerdraco]

Healing Heart ✧ Draco x Reader Mini-Series PART 5

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Summary: PART 5 ! of Draco accidentally falling in love with reader during his sixth year (HBP) and figuring out how to survive his new life while finding out a way to keep you in it. 

Warnings: angst, mentions of death, torture, blood, death eater stuff - the usual ! 

Words: 7.8K

A/N: FINDING WAYS TO PROLONG THIS SERIES !!!! 😼 AND SORRY IF THERE ARE ANY MISTAKES ITS VERY LATE AND I NEVER CATCH THEM 😔 but omg my little week long hiatus I took was against my will but i’m back and healthy again and can finally think out sentences again lmao !!! also i DO own gif 

Draco stared at the vast, dark marble ceiling as he lied awake. His black silk sheets were strewn across his king bed in a lofty heap from when he had woken up. There was a sheen layer of sweat across his skin, but his room held no warmth and the draft that was coming in from his open windows was nothing less than freezing.

There wasn’t a moment where he had enough peace to sleep, but when he ultimately did; he always regretted ever drifting off when he felt the hot, ravenous feeling that ran through his body when he would jolt awake from a nightmare with his heart thundering against him and the inability to differentiate reality from a subconscious image. He would lie back down, breathing unevenly, and fixate on a random crack in the ceiling and let his now very tortured conscience remind him, “it all happened, you can't escape it!”

And that little malicious voice in his head was right. The horrible images in his mind weren’t made up or conjured by his brain - they were very real and he had lived through them.

He remembered the agonizing decision he had to make when he left the love of his life, jinxed and in hysterics in an abandoned classroom. He remembered his Headmaster, who he had cornered and disarmed who still offered him genuine help and guidance despite the wand pointed in his face. He remembered his once-favorite Professor, kill his Headmaster who he thought for maybe a second would be able to help him. He remembered bounding down the steps of the astronomy tower, wanting to topple over and vomit while he followed closely behind a billowing cape and several sniggering and smug Death Eaters into the halls of the unsuspecting school. He remembered his aunt wreaking havoc on the Great Hall with pure joy as he could only watch in horror while she shattered the windows in her celebration. He remembered walking through a maze of trees in a dazed stupor towards Hagrid’s hut, Bellatrix giggling maniacally beside him as she skipped past him. He remembered seeing Harry run towards them, hurling any hexes and curses he could think of towards Snape while he scurried off. He remembered meeting his mother at the momentarily failing barrier, her hand wrapping tightly around his arm before she apparated them home. He remembered the cold wooden floors underneath him and the way the Manor’s structure seemed to be crashing down onto him as he tried to catch his breath and collect his thoughts.

When he would finish going over every mistake he had made that night, and every choice he could have made instead, he would turn over in his bed and stare out the large window in his room where he could see the cloudy night sky and the nature swinging around in the wind like it was in a constant state of what seemed like an approaching tornado. He would wonder about you, and what you were doing and what you thought of him. He wondered if you meant what you said - if you would truly never forgive him for leaving you there. He wondered if you thought it was him who killed Dumbledore and how you probably saw him as a killer now. He was in ceaseless disarray of wonder, a painful wonder that he couldn’t escape.

He didn’t dare try to owl you, especially with Bellatrix around the house as a very vigilant guard dog that noticed anything and everything. There were barely any opportunities in which he could leave the Manor, not by foot, by broom, or apparate. He was a prisoner in his own home, just as much as he was in his mind. The increasing amount of Death Eaters that came and went every day made him feel more unsettled than ever, all of them giving him intimidating and sneering looks as if he was a joke while they forcefully turned the Manor into their place of 'work'.

The day Lucius was released from Azkaban, Draco felt a slight hope that things would improve, that his father could somehow find a way to fix things for them as he always had and the young boy could finally step down from the responsibility he felt for his family. But what he saw in the foyer of his home wasn’t Lucius Malfoy; influential, formidable and feared by many - he saw a shell of a man who had lost all sense of who he was and had paid greatly for his failures. He recalled how his father had embraced him in a weak and shuddering hug, clinging onto him as a spew of desperate words incessantly flew from his mouth without making much sense. 

He knew immediately then that his father couldn’t swoop in and fix all his problems, and his mother couldn’t be left alone in all this. He was stuck, whether he liked it or not, and he had to follow through on anything and everything the Dark Lord expected from him or wanted out of his family.

He hated the way his home was defiled with death and wickedness. He hated the way there were lifeless bodies littered around the living room sometimes. He hated the echoing cries and pleas of those who were locked up in the dungeon below. He hated seeing Voldermort use his home as his headquarters, pacing the room in a self-given majesty and humiliating his father every chance he could get. The only reason the Malfoys weren’t killed off yet was, in Draco’s opinion, to be used as an example of what happens when you fail the Dark Lord, to be used as malicious entertainment, and to see just how far someone could be tortured from the inside. Draco did mend the cabinet, but he didn’t kill Dumbledore or die trying as his master had desired. He was always visibly apprehensive of everything he had to do and every order he was given. He wasn’t willingly cruel or vile and hated the idea of actually hurting anyone. His father had failed every mission he was given, and his mother wasn’t a Death Eater, to begin with. They were just there, as pawns and as sadistic pleasure. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

It was subsequently, a rare day that the Manor was empty. No one was walking through the halls or running their mucky shoes on the expensive upholstery of the furniture as they relaxed into it. Even his father was out, along with Bellatrix, which left only him and his mother at home.

Narcissa Malfoy was just as arrogant as her husband, valued the pro-pure-blood ideals she grew up with, and always appeared to be very cold and haughty. Yet there was one thing that she valued above most; her family. She was entirely devoted to her son and husband and loved them profoundly. It was for Draco she worried for the most and would do anything for. It was for Draco she would risk everything for and go against the Dark Lord for. 

So on the night she brought her son back home, and he was breaking down in her arms with cries about a girl she had never heard of - it piqued her curiosity more than she wanted to admit. She had asked Draco who you were a handful of times since that night, but he always refused to answer. She even went as far as asking Snape, pulling him aside one night behind a dark pillar in her home as everyone was leaving and whispered secretly to him.

“Severus, I know I’ve asked too much of you already but I need to know this,” she rushed to say in a very hushed and imperceptible tone but she knew he had heard her. He raised an eyebrow, looking at her quizzically. 

“What might that be?”

“On the night Draco came home, he was calling out for someone,” she began, “do you know if he was involved with anyone by the name of Y/N?”

She could have sworn she saw a twinge of muscles move in his cheek, but he only shook his head shortly from side to side.

“I apologize, Narcissa, but I know no student by that name,” he sighed. “Draco spent most of his time mending the vanishing cabinet, I doubt he had time to be venturing out in his love life.”

She wanted to believe him. But she couldn’t brush off the intuition that was beating against her gut, nearly screaming at her that she was being lied to and there was more to the story. It’s not like she wanted the information to hurt you or to judge, she simply wanted to know who had broken through to her son during the year he was the most closed off. Who had impacted him so greatly, that now that it was seemingly over left him in shambles and withdrawn almost completely. If anything, she wanted to help. And if there was a possibility where she could, she would help Draco take it if it meant it would make his life easier. There was nothing more she wanted for him, free of pain and filled with hope, and if a certain individual would help her get him there - she would be willing to see it through.

With the opportunity of everyone gone, Narcissa trailed up to Draco’s room, letting her knuckles fall softly against the wooden double doors three times.

“Draco, dear, would you like to join me on a walk?”

She heard a shuffling from behind the door and a sharp sniffle, taking in a deep breath to prepare herself to see his poorly hidden tears that she knew she would be met with.

As she predicted, the doors opened and the blond stepped out of his room, lowering his red-rimmed eyes to the ground so he wouldn’t have to meet her worried gaze. He looked well-groomed as always, but she took notice that his skin seemed gray and dull. His eye bags were deep and nearly black from all his crying and lack of sleep. When she linked her arm through his, she felt the slight weight he had unwillingly lost in the past month that he’s been home. Her mind was spinning with concern, promising herself there that she was ready to do whatever she could for him, anything she could.

She led them out of their cold and darkened home, stepping out into the gardens that sat behind the Manor in a large vastness of gorgeous flower arrangements of whites, greens, and reds. There was a large marble fountain placed in the middle of the garden, spewing water smoothly from a small bowl that spilled into a larger one beneath it. It was boxed in with stone and surrounded with red amaryllis flowers, giving anyone enough space to sit around it without being splattered by droplets of water. 

It was a gloomy day, but a warm afternoon sun had peaked through the clouds and cast a glowy light around the house that she hadn’t seen in ages. It made her feel hopeful as she walked her and Draco through the garden, thinking of ways on how to approach him. She knew he had shot her down and changed the subject every time she brought up your name, even if it was in privacy, and she pleaded to the stars that this would ultimately be the chance she would get to find out. 

When they reached the fountain, she sat them down and watched as Draco slouched, silent and staring distantly at his shoes.

“Dear, I know you hate for me to bring this up,” she started slowly, shaking her head as she spoke, “but I want to know who she is. I want to be able to help you, and maybe even her. I know you’re in love, I see it in your eyes and I see it now that you’re apart. I know everything else certainly applies to how you’re feeling, but there’s a look for heartbreak, and you have it.”

Draco looked up at her, finally peering into her worried eyes as he contemplated what she said and what she offered. The last time he told someone about you, he was reprimanded and denied any sort of help, only suggestions for abandonment were given. He wanted to tell his mother all about you, but he wished it was under happier circumstances, however. 

He wished it would be him coming home during the summer, no Voldermort or Death Eaters in his life or his family’s, and arriving with you by his side after sending an owl to his parents about the new love in his life he wanted them to meet. He would boast about you and your smarts, care, ambitions, and beauty. He would make sure his parents understood just how important you were to him and just how amazing you truly were. He imagined their inevitable surrender and allowing him to invite you on one of their luxurious trips to somewhere beautiful and expensive. He pictured a yacht ride in Italy, your skin glowing and your smile bright as you gazed at him in delight under a warm summer sun. Or a grandeur trip to France, walking around the Parisian streets with you as he spoiled you with gifts and delicious gourmet food while ending the night under the Eiffel Tower. He wanted to see you leave on shopping trips with his mother, the two of you coming back with heavy bags and new memories while his mother would walk by him and secretly whisper, “I love her!” to him. He wanted to flaunt you, and boast and gloat all about you - but the circumstances now were dreadful, and to talk about how he had failed you made him want to cry all over again. 

His mother waited patiently for his reply, clasping her hands together in her lap as he stayed quiet while he decided. He was so used to sulking and torturing himself on his own in the past month, that seeing a genuine look of concern and desire to help pushed him into making his final resolve.

“I met her around the beginning of last year,” he breathed out finally, “her name is Y/N Y/L/N, we had a Potions class together but I met her in one of the corridors where we accidentally bumped into each other. I sprained a finger trying to catch myself and she healed it without a second thought. She wants to be a Healer at St. Mungo’s after Hogwarts, and she’s very skilled with her wand. She’s one of the smartest people I’ve ever met and the kindest. She always listened to me, and helped me, and encouraged me. She always reassured me when I needed it, and if it weren’t for her I don’t think I would have mended the cabinet or even had the energy to wake up every day. She stayed with me even when I told her the truth about everything. I’ve never met anyone who makes me feel the way she does, I can’t explain it, she makes me feel-”

“Alive?” His mother softly finished for him. “She makes you feel alive.”

“Yes,” he nods fervently, “I love her and I failed her. I don’t think there’s anything I can do now and neither can you.”

“I beg to differ,” she briskly interjects. “It’s never too late for anything, Draco. There’s always an opportunity to make things right, as long as you try. She at least deserves an explanation and an apology, and it will be up to her to decide what she wants to do. She sounds wonderful, and I’m glad you met someone who brings out your best.”

Draco agreed wordlessly, his tears sitting at the brink of his eyelids begging to be released as he mulled over everything that was said. He knew where you lived, having learned the fact somewhere in your relationship when you were talking about your childhood and where you were from. He knew the place you called home and the address that came with it that you constantly reminded him of in hopeful jokes that he would visit you over the summer.

“There’s no one here, no one would know you’re gone,” Narcissa encourages swiftly as if she knew what he was thinking about. “It’ll be a few hours before anyone returns. Go to her.”

“But if I become involved with her again, he’ll find out, won’t he?” He insinuates in distress. “The reason I left her was to keep her safe from him, I don’t want her anywhere near this.”

“He won’t find out,” she promised, “I’ll make sure of it. Go.”

There was a hopeful and elating sensation that ran through his veins as he stood up, turning back to look at his mother as she nodded at him optimistically. He suddenly lunged towards her, giving her a tight hug and muttering thank you’s to her like a broken record before running out of the garden towards the front gate of the Manor.

As soon as he reached his exit, he used his newfound Death Eater ability to half-apparate himself into a thick black cloud of smoke that allowed him to fly over to where you were - not giving a care in the world if he were seen by muggles as he recklessly took every shortcut he knew towards your hometown.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

There was a slight breeze in the cloudy air that brought you comfort. It was cold, but refreshing - a sharp contrast against the burning feeling that never seemed to leave your body. You were back home now, in your small little town in England that held little to no wizards.

You spent a lot of your time wandering around the local stores and cafes nearby, mingling with strangers as you told them fake life stories for fun. There was also the small forest behind your house you regularly enjoyed, and all the small hidden creatures that you encountered along the way. You always brought along your family cat, the chunky orange tabby always finding his way for you outside of the forest when you got too far in, or if he sensed there was nearby danger and would warn you. Sometimes you would talk to him, complain to him about everything that was bothering you and he would respond to you now and then with broken meows and chirps that made you feel like he understood, even though he didn’t. It made you feel less alone.

Of course, you had your family that worried over your changed behaviors. They weren’t oblivious. They noticed the puffy eyes, the sniffles, and the quiet sobs that escaped under the space of your bedroom door when they would pass by in the middle of the night to get a glass of water from the kitchen. They noticed your sudden quietness, and your lack of interest in everything and hardly found you in the house. You were always out and about, trying to find anything and anyone to distract yourself from what was going on in your mind.

 It wasn’t that you didn’t want to talk to your family, even though they had incessantly offered their support, you just knew they wouldn’t understand. They would want to know about Draco, his family, and their beliefs. They would eventually figure out of his involvement with the Dark Lord and the looming second Wizarding war. They wouldn’t approve, and you didn’t want to hear the scolding you would get for ever giving him the time of day. You were bitter enough as it was, and the last thing you wanted to hear was how bad Draco was and how you were better off without him.

But even if you were supposed to be better off without him, a life where he wasn’t in it didn’t feel good at all. It felt empty and lost. You were used to his presence always being around you and how he was always a few minutes away from you. He was always available to you for anything and willingly; for company, affection, comfort, reassurance, love, everything. You hated the fact that you let yourself get attached, especially when you knew deep down the direction the relationship was going in.

There were days when you would wake up okay. Days where your mind blocked out your feelings entirely, including Draco and all the memories that came with him. There were days when you felt like you had finally forced yourself to move on, but always finding it to wear off when you’d clamber into bed at night and your brain started illustrating everything you didn’t want to remember. The silver band bracelet he had gifted you was in constant movement from your wrist and jewelry box, hidden on the days you wanted to forget him or sitting pretty on your skin on the days you missed him the most. As much as it hurt to think about him and remember him, you couldn’t stop the way your whole being drifted towards him.

You were currently stepping over a big fallen tree trunk covered in thick green moss, your cat following closely by your leg as he pranced and jumped over all his obstacles. You walked mindlessly around the greenery, not taking notice in the shape of the leaves of the fern you were placing your hand upon to move out of your way. It wasn’t until you felt the sharpened ends of the leaves dig deep into your skin that made you recoil your hand back in pain, a slight hiss leaving your mouth as a small gash began to form with blood flowing quickly upwards out of the new cut. Your hand was held in the air as you frantically looked around for anything that would stop the bleeding that was now dripping sleekly down your arm.

“Stupid ministry and underage magic,” you mutter under your breath. Your wand was in your pocket, begging to be used, but the idea of being sent a letter from the ministry that was now under the Voldermort's control quickly dispersed any desire you had to use it. “Come on, kitty. Let’s go back home, please.”

'Home' was a word the cat did understand. He bumped your leg with his head before meowing loudly at you as he began trotting off to your right side towards the exit of the forest. He moved stealthily, dodging in and out of everything that was in his path as you attempted to follow in his cleared steps. Every time you would trip or rest briefly, he would stop ahead of you and wait until you would walk towards him again before he started back on the journey.

When you finally saw your house in the distance, you sighed in relief at the thought of your first aid kit waiting patiently for you in the bathroom cupboard. And belatedly, your feet hit the stone path that led home, skipping slightly with your hand in the air before nearly toppling over your cat as he stopped abruptly in your path. You moved out of the way, last minute, and very clumsily before eyeing him suspiciously.

He was looking up at the sky, his ears pulled back and the fur on his back straightening up as his eyes frantically searched around the clouds above him. He wasn’t hissing like he normally did when he felt something dangerous coming, he looked more confused and alert than anything. You searched the sky with him for a minute before concluding he was being too wary so you bent down and pick him up with your uninjured hand, nearly scooping him into your arms until he carefully swiped at your arm.

“You’re being dramatic, there’s nothing there,” you exclaim at him irritably. You were stumped, on one hand, literally, you were still bleeding though it had significantly slowed down and was now just coagulated blood, and on the other hand, you couldn’t leave the cat outside because of the number of dead critters he left in his past outdoor ventures around the yard and his sometimes week-long disappearances that left everyone in the house worried.

In just a few seconds of your thinking, he had sprung forward and rushed towards the large open field that was a few feet away from your house. Although it was summer, it had been rainy and allowed the grassy field to flourish in tall and wild greenery. This did not help as you watched the fluff of orange disappear into the small jungle that lied ahead and you began to sprint after him, spotting his bushy tail in your vision every time he jumped over something. If you could use magic, this little ordeal would have gone much more different - but you couldn’t.

You chased him until the very near end of the field, spotting him sitting calmly as he looked back at you as if he was expecting you. Rolling your eyes, you reached towards him again to pick him up, if he wanted to go back to the house scratching and biting then so be it. You trained your gaze on him, trying your best to grab him as carefully and as slyly as you could. But as soon as your hand landed on the silky fur of his back, you heard a soft whooshing sound a few feet away in front of you and a very audible shuffle of dead grass crunching underneath someone's shoes as they moved slowly. 

You didn’t look up, all of a sudden feeling scared at who could have magically appeared in front of you, and instead, you waited for your cat to hiss and attack, but he sat himself down in a loaf as if he were in the most comfortable place in existence. This is when you looked up, and the sight before you was like an invisible force that knocked you onto your bottom as you jumped back in surprise.

“What are you doing here?”

What was supposed to sound like a concerned question, came out a little ruder than you had intended, almost seething at the boy that was fearfully staring down at you.

“I’m sorry,” Draco ran his hands over his pallid face in distress, “I shouldn’t have come.”

There was an awkwardness that hung in the air. The two of you were finally where you had wanted to be, together, but now that you were face-to-face it couldn’t have been more perplexing. He didn’t know how to begin, and you weren’t sure if you should even listen to him. It was like a weird staring competition, he was taking in everything about you as you were doing the same to him. It was obvious you were both a wreck, and the damage was apparent on him the most as he was dealing with his Death Eater status now more than ever.

“Your hand is bleeding,” he stated suddenly. You didn’t have time to answer before he had cautiously walked over to you and sat down beside you in a flattened patch of grass. “Let me see it.”

Like magnets, your hand instantly fell into his cold grasp without you thinking about it. You eyed him carefully and quietly, observing him as he turned your injured hand over in his and inspected your gash like you had done many times in the past for him. You didn’t stop him when he took his wand out of his pocket and waved it over your wound, murmuring a familiar spell that closed the cut with ease, a small pink scar left in its place. 

“I didn’t know you knew how to do that,” you say lightly. “Thank you.”

“I learned from the best,” he smiles faintly. 

Neither of you moved from your sitting spots, and neither of you said anything. He would meet your eyes now and then and search them with such a pained expression that it took everything in you not to just throw yourself into his arms and cry in relief that he was there.

“I know it was Snape who killed Dumbledore and not you,” you break the silence apprehensively. “Harry told me.”

“Potter told you?” He grimaced, but he let out a breath of relief. “I would’ve thought the git would have loved to throw me under the bus. I didn’t even know he was there, then I see him chasing us down-”

“Draco, why are you here?” You asked him again, gingerly this time and cutting him off from his rambling in hopes that he would just cut to the chase on his unannounced appearance. He sighed, looking down at his now muddy, once expensive dress shoes.

“I needed to see you,” he answers honestly. “And I wanted to apologize for how I left things.”

You peered up at him with a raised eyebrow, bringing your knees up to your chest so you could rest your head against them as you faced him. “Let’s hear it.”

“I’m serious,” he frowned. “I’m sorry I used my wand against you. I’m sorry I shut you out. I’m sorry I left without giving you much of an explanation. I’m sorry I abandoned you and disappeared off the face of the Earth. I’m sorry I broke my promise that I would never leave you again.”

“Draco-”

“No, wait, I need you to understand that I thought leaving you was the only thing that would keep you safe. I would have never forgiven myself if I let you die for trying to help me, even if you say you’re ready to accept whatever fate is in store for you, I’m not. But I don’t want to run anymore, I don’t want to be away from you, I can’t do it and I always think I can let you go for your safety, but I can’t.”

There was a brief period of stillness as you contemplated his apology. Your head moved to fall in between your knees as your hands began to fiddle with the long strands of grass beneath you. You were stripping it and pulling at it, hoping that there would be a hidden message underneath the earth that would give you an answer on what to say or what to do, but it wasn’t possible. The only thing you found was the loose pitiful tears slipping down your face that seeped into spots of dry soil. Draco stayed wordless beside you, the only sound coming from him was uneven breaths as he stressed over your reaction.

You were caught in between wanting to give in, wanting to forgive him, and hug him and kiss him to make up for all the tortuous time lost, but there was also a part of you that was now afraid to trust. You wanted to, so badly, but everything felt so unpredictable. You weren’t sure whether you could handle him leaving again if he had to. And if he were to die at the end of all of this? There was no way you’d be able to recover from a loss like that. He was on an unforeseeable path that held no clear outcome.  

“I’m scared, Dray,” you sniffle, closing your eyes tightly as you began to answer him. “We’re not kids anymore fooling around at school. Everything is getting more real by the day. How am I supposed to be comfortable with the idea that you might-”

You stopped yourself from finishing, a soft sob escaping your throat at the near mention of his possible death. You felt him scoot closer to you, stopping about a few inches away from your shuddering body as he placed a reassuring hand on your lower back.

“You say you can’t accept the decision I made when I said I’m ready for whatever fate lies ahead of me,” you mumble miserably. “Well, I can’t accept yours either.”

“I won’t make any more promises I can’t keep,” he starts warily, “but I can promise you that as long as I’m around, I won’t let anyone hurt you, ever. And as far as my future goes, I promise that I’ll do everything and anything I can to survive this.”

You had unhooked your arms from around your legs, bringing them underneath you as you sat yourself up to face him better. He was staring at you intently, hopeful gray eyes boring into yours with every emotion under the sun flashing through them. He didn’t show it, but he felt like at any moment he was going to faint. He had never seen such uncertainty on your face and it killed him, but he tried to remain stoic as he spoke and kept a brave face at every concern you had. He couldn’t guarantee you anything that lied ahead, but there was also nothing he wouldn’t do for you now.

“Okay,” you agree, finally giving him the consolation he had been woefully praying for. “I believe you, we can get through this together.”

There wasn’t another second spared before you speedily moved out of your sitting position to pounce him with a tight and suffocating hug. It was desperate and smothering, his arms wrapped tightly around your lower back as he pressed you deeply into his body as if you were going to disappear any second.

You didn’t care that you could barely breathe against his chest or that your knee was digging into the mud below you. It was the most relieving feeling in the world, finally being in his arms again with new hopes and possibilities that always found a way to present themselves. It was one of the many reasons that you knew he was the one for you. Everything with him felt easy, even if the world was crashing down around you. He could melt away all your pain and worries with one look, touch, or words. He felt like home and heaven all in one.

It came to you in the middle of your longing hug, that there was always going to be something looming over the two of you in the current state that the wizarding world was in. There’s no point in wasting time when everything could change overnight, just as it had that unforsaken day at Hogwarts before you were dragged home the next day. There was no reason for trying to stay away from him when it was everything you wanted and you knew then that you needed to take advantage of whatever time you had left with him.

“I'm sorry for saying I would never forgive you that night,” you murmur into the crook of his neck. “And for being stubborn.”

“You had all the right to be angry with me,” he laments.

“But it didn’t make it okay,” you nuzzle yourself deeper in his embrace, frowning to yourself as you recalled the night.

He looked down at you, a pang of guilt hitting him when he saw the corners of your lips pulled down in sadness. He leaned down and carefully placed a kiss on your temple, lingering for a bit before moving away and muttering, “nothing about that night was okay.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

There wasn’t an inkling of an idea how long the two of you were sat outside, holding on tightly to each other as you filled each other in on any news that happened in the last month since you’ve seen each other. The only indication that let the two of you know that time had surely passed was that the sun had begun setting behind the valley in the distance. The moon now had a faint appearance in the purplish evening sky that was for the first time in a while, free of the heavy cloud covers.

You listened attentively as he told you about the Manor and how it was being used as a Death Eater meeting place. He told you about his father being released from Azkaban as a treat for the Malfoy’s since he had fixed the cabinet and disarmed Dumbledore for Snape to finish, unknowing to him that he would. He explained to you how ghostly he felt when he was venturing out of the school that night. He even scarcely described the horror that had gone on in the dead of night, when victims had been brought back to the house for ‘interrogations’ and the way their screams would keep him wide awake for days.

You nearly felt sick to your stomach the longer he went on, empathizing with him delicately when he would sometimes stop talking to take a deep painful shaky breath. The guilt that was eating away at him wasn’t hidden or pushed down, he expressed it very obviously and you couldn’t picture how he managed to hold a straight face in the sea of terrors he had encountered.

“You’re nothing like them,” you whispered tenderly to him when you saw the distant broken look that clouded his eyes. “You are good, Draco. Not once have I ever changed my mind about that.”

He was slipping, far and fast into the depths of his despair. His new life away from school was eating away at him now that he was forced to experience it upfront. He wasn’t cut out for it, nor did he want anything to do with it. It physically pained you that there was nothing you could do except offer him what you’ve always been able to provide; a listening ear and to remind him that he’s not the evil monster he deludes himself to be. 

“I don’t want to talk about me anymore,” he mumbled gloomily, taking your hand into his as he turned to look at you. “I want to hear about you and your summer.”

“It wasn’t pleasant or anything, honestly,” you shrug, “I spent most of it in the village nearby and the forest behind my house with my cat, who by the way knew you were coming somehow.”

You both suddenly turned to look for the orange tabby who had seemingly disappeared without either of you noticing sometime throughout the evening. 

“Where is the little critter so I can thank him for leading you to me,” he chuckled softly as you rolled your eyes.

“He’s probably back at home now but I’ll pass the message,” you bite back a smirk.

Draco felt the familiar fluttering of pixies in his stomach as he looked at you, a sense of exhilaration and delight shocking his body from its usual anguished state. He was so far gone in you and he never wanted to leave the feelings you left him with and with such little effort. He couldn’t count how many times he had the same thought in his head when he was around you, much like your own, he knew with you was where he was at his calmest and his happiest. It was like a chunk of agony being released from him that made him feel like he could breathe again without feeling like he was going to drown. Even if it was just for a few hours, he was always grateful for moments he shared with you and the comfort you brought him.

“I love you,” he said dazed, eyes locking onto yours intimately. “I hope you know that.”

"I love you,” you repeated, a coy smile making its way onto your features. 

“You know,” his thumb began mindlessly running over your knuckles as he spoke, “if it wasn’t for my mother knocking some sense into me earlier, I wouldn’t have had the great idea to show up here.”

He looked over at you when he felt you tense up completely, slightly worried at first before a small amusement quickly replaced his fear when he noticed you were gaping at him with wide wondrous eyes. 

“You told her about me?”

“All about you,” he nods, “I accidentally let your name slip a while back and she’s been asking me about you ever since. I didn’t want to say anything in case someone heard, but everyone was gone today and she got it out of me.”

“What did she say about me?” You asked him timidly as if it was the most important thing in the world for you.

He chortled quietly at your nervousness, “she said she thinks you’re wonderful and she’s glad we met. She pushed me to come and make things right with you and she offered to look out for us.”

There was an intense delight that beat against your chest at his answer. The only other person in his life who’s opinion he valued the most above all had made one about you, and it was one that was better than anything you could have ever hoped for. Narcissa Malfoy had vouched for you before she’s even properly met you and it left you feeling astounded and beyond appreciative.

“When you get home, please send her my regards,” you plead heartily, your hands clutching onto the lapels of his suit jacket as he laughed lightly. 

“I will, I will,” he smiles, “I have to be home soon, so she’ll hear about it within the next half hour.”

Draco pulled you up with him as he stood up, both of you finally stretching out your limbs with groans and sighs of relief from the tension of sitting for so long.

As you peered up at him, you let your hands slide up into the platinum blond strands that looked brighter than ever under the now bright moonlight. He placed a hand over one of your wrists, a smile growing on his face as he noticed the silver band sitting warmly against your skin. He leaned forward to press his forehead against yours, letting himself stay there for a minute as he tried to revel in the last few moments of peace he was going to try and prolong for the rest of his night.

“I’ll be back soon,” he cupped your cheek with one hand, his thumb grazed delicately over your cheekbone as you leaned into his touch. “Right back with you.”

“I’ll be waiting, Malfoy,” you grin.

For the first time that night, he ducked down and pressed his lips soft against yours. The gentleness quickly dissipated into longing and fervor as he kissed you like it was the last thing he was ever going to do, seeking the closeness and union he missed so desperately. Neither of you made any move to pull apart as you melted into each other, basking completely in the feeling of being so close to one another like this again.

If it wasn’t for you worrying about his timely arrival back home before everyone, you would have allowed him to keep you like that forever. But much to your dismay, you tapped him lightly against his chest that let him know it was really time for him to leave if he wanted to keep his secret trip, secret.

You stood there sadly, watching him as he unwillingly backed away from you and whispered one more goodbye to you before he disappeared into the sky in a ghost of black smoke, the aroma of his cologne still lingering in the air and a swollen feeling against your lips that left you feeling fuzzy.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

The Malfoy Manor was staring eerily back at Draco when he finally arrived back in front of the main gate of the home. It was deathly quiet and dark, only a small light could be seen from the living room as he approached further into the property.

He swiftly ran up the steps, hand falling carefully onto the brass doorknob of the front entrance, stopping in his tracks completely when he heard a mixture of hushed angry voices.

“I told you, Bella,” he heard his mother exclaim fiercely. “He only went out to clear his head.”

“Clear his head of what?” his aunt sneered. “He’s falling weak, Cissy. He should be running around in joy that the Dark Lord has him in his inner circle.”

“My son is not weak, don’t you think this can all be a little overwhelming for someone who hasn’t even finished his schooling?” His mother defended him and he could picture the exact sneer on her face as she spoke.

“I want to know where he went,” Bellatrix says hotly, “he’s been gone too long.”

Draco ran through a list of excuses in his head, swallowing back the lump in his throat when he decided on one and put on a straight face as he turned the doorknob, cautiously stepping into the dimly lit living room where both his parents and aunt were waiting for him.

“Ah, there he is,” his father announced as he was the first one to see the boy clambering inside.

“I’m sorry I went off for so long,” Draco spoke up before anyone could ask. “I remember someone mentioning they had spotted Potter around a village nearby so I tried to go look for him.”

“Did you?” Bellatrix chastised. “And nothing?”

“Nothing,” he shrugged with a feigned annoyance.

“And you were alone?” She added with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes, all by myself.”

Narcissa gave her sister a pointed look as she walked up to Draco, hand gripping tightly onto his arm before leading him away from the surprise interrogation and towards the foot of the stairs where she stopped him hastily.

“How did it go?” She asked almost inaudibly.

“Y/N sends her regards,” he whispered, “thank you.”

He gave his mother a warm hug good night before he hurriedly bounded up the stairs, looking down towards the living room once more where Bellatrix was eyeing him carefully. He decided on giving her a curt nod before vanishing into his bedroom and letting himself fall against the shut double doors, a large exhale of relief slipping past his lips as he was now safe to freely recall the night with a dazed smile he didn’t want to let go of.

PART 6

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APOLOGIES IF I FORGOT ANYONEEE 🥺 BUT I REALLY HOPE EVERYONE ENJOYED THIS CHAPTER EVEN THO IT WASNT TOOO EVENTFUL ❤️❤️❤️❤️ I GOT ACTION FOR THE NEXT PIECES THO JUST WAITTTT

[fedonciadale]

How did you come up with the plot of TPP? It's all so complex I can't even fathom coming up with something like that all by myself. I really wish I could write as well as you...

Hi there!

Thanks for the compliment!

The very first scene that came into my head is yet to come in the fic! I’ll alert my readers to that in the author’s note!

And it sort of fell together from there on. One of the earliest scenes that came into my head was James Potter telling Draco, that Hermione pressured Harry to give evidence on his behalf, another early scene was Draco and Ron meeting and fighting. The Phoenix Potion and its very special effects was a very early idea as well, when I was thinking about how Snape would try for other ways to defeat Voldemort. From there it was not a far step to the scutum. It became pretty clear soon that I did not want Draco to play a hero’s role in the war against Voldemort.

Most of the plot points are born from a general feeling of discontent about canon. I’ll never forgive JKR for doing nothing with the elves, and I think that prejudices against muggleborns would still be prevalent. Then there is the fact, that I don’t see Ron and Hermione working as a couple. There are so many points in the books where I think something like “what if” and this is how it all started.

Another thing is, that somehow the characters are very vivid in my mind, and it is sort of easy to write a character driven plot. I sort of love all the Dramione children in my fic, which is funny really, if you consider that they are completely my own invention. But they don’t feel that way. They fell like people I know very well. People with whom I can talk if they would do this and that.

So, some of the plot came to me because I relate to the characters so much. Pansy is the most insistent (no surprise there).  She cornered me and told me “You have to include that. That’s important.”

Blaise just raised an eyebrow at me. “I would never do that.” And I had to agree.

Writing Luna is just fun. She really understands people and uses this magical little beings system to explain what she observes about people’s emotions. She is also very kind, so I just channel my sister into her.

Rina just shrugs. “If you think you have to tell that.”

Colin would prefer if I would not talk about him at all. Neville is the same. But that is obviously not possible.

Harry somehow is the easiest to write, although he doesn’t like me writing about him. Sorry, Harry.

Draco is also easy to write, because a part of me relates to his very pessimistic and caustic outlook on the world in general and people in particular. I just have to channel my inner snark to write him. Sometimes he nods. “Yes, I would say that.”

Hermione is somehow the toughest to write, although I actually relate to her most of all.

So, although the mystery plot, the cut out curse, the elves and all that are there and I have an idea how to solve these problems, ultimately TPP is character driven. I can’t really explain it better.

I have written stories, where I thought: I have to reach that plot point. How do I get there? But with TPP my question is always. What would Harry do? What would Hermione do? And somehow the characters help me navigating through the plot. It sounds weird, but that is how it is.

Thanks for the ask!