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loeyparker · 4 years ago

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hurt her to save her - d.m

pairing: draco x fem!reader

word count: 7k

warnings: angst, swearing, mentions of death and torture

plot: getting closer to Draco during sixth year has consequences. Draco realizes that when he’s forced to hurt you in order to keep you safe from Voldemort

a/n: my HP obsession is back so I’ve returned to writing fics but i might have went overboard with this one lmao . it wasn’t requested, but if someone wants part 2 i’m gonna do it <3

Draco Malfoy had a very good memory. Besides being cunning and arrogant, he was also incredibly smart – which is precisely why he was second best in most classes. Behind the cold, uncaring façade the youngest Malfoy put out into the world however, stood a boy who remembered things he probably should have forgotten.

Lately, Draco Malfoy couldn’t remember the last time he felt anything but fear. He attempted to mask the feeling either with anger, determination or indifference but the true, raw feeling of fear was behind it all, much like a dementor guarding all his other emotions. The past summer planted dread and terror deep into his mind and the ink on his skin felt like it was seeping through his skin, entering his veins and poisoning his heart.

By the time he arrived back at Hogwarts for his sixth year, he felt drained. With the weight of the world on his shoulders, the young boy attempted to pretend to be a normal student, despite the countless sleepless nights and stray tears that sometimes escaped through small cracks in the emotional wall he’d built around him over the years. The tears only saw the light of day in the darkness of the Room of Requirement, where he found himself surrounded by old artifacts and silence.

“Draco, Severus has been telling me you seem distracted.” The soft, yet scared tone of Draco’s mother rang throughout the empty, rotting room in the Shrieking Shack. Broken windows allowed for the wind to invade the abandoned building violently and loudly, and to dance around the three figures standing in the dark. It caused a shiver to run up Draco’s spine, but he couldn’t tell if the reaction came from the cold or from Narcissa and Severus’s stares aimed at him.

Draco felt so small under their gaze.

“That’s true, I have been.” Draco admitted, looking forward. He focused on a spider trapping a moth in its web. “With school.” The moth fought, attempted to flap its wings but the web was too sticky. “I have to keep up my grades. Them dropping suddenly would be suspicious.” Draco’s voice didn’t waver, despite his heart beating at a much more rapid pace than normally.

“Lie.” Severus Snape spoke simply. The professor was tasked with taking care of the Slytherin boy, but he wasn’t about to listen to his childish lies while the man knew what he had been seeing in the past months around Hogwarts.

Draco didn’t move.

Narcissa sighed and got closer to her son. She placed her palms on Draco’s pale cheeks and she felt them being hollower than she remembered. Draco still didn’t look at her. The spider was covering the dying moth in his web, fully suffocating the creature.

“My boy, the dead don’t need lovers.” Narcissa’s voice was quiet, regretful even. Her heart ached for the boy who was so quickly deprived of a childhood.

“You cannot forget about the assignment because of a girl.” Snape spoke up, his voice monotonous.

“I haven’t forgotten.” Draco spat back and took a step away from his mother, whose hands dropped. He didn’t feel the lack of her palms on his cheeks, as they left no warmth Draco could feel. “And there’s no girl.”

“Do not lie to us, boy. I have seen you with the Ravenclaw girl, I am not blind.” Snape saw the glances between Draco and you in the Great Hall, he saw the way Draco fixed his gaze on you during DADA. He also caught you walking into the Room of Requirement not long after Draco the previous night. On top of that, Minerva had mentioned how Draco’s recent assignments closely mirrored yours. You had a certain style noticeable in your homework answers, and that style began to be seen in Draco’s own homework which lead everyone to speculate the two students may be closer than everyone thinks.

Before Draco could deny, Narcissa spoke “Under other circumstances, I’d be delighted to hear about a girl in your life.” Her tone was soft, yet it held an edge and sternness to it. “But you have a mission, Draco. Do I need to remind you of the consequences to befall our family if you don’t succeed?”

“No.” Draco spat. He already knew the consequences – loud and clear. They had been drilled into his mind, heart and soul the entire summer. If he couldn’t kill Dumbledore, Voldemort would kill Draco’s entire family instead.

“The girl is another weakness. Another person to add to the death list, Draco.” His mother pleaded. “You know he will kill her if he finds out.”

“I know.”

Draco could feel all the warmth in his body melt away and even his bones felt cold and heavy.

“You can still save her.” Snape spoke. “Focus on you mission, hurt her. Make her believe you don’t love her.”

Draco glanced at the spider one last time, and the moth laid still in the webs of the predator. The wind made the web sway, but only slightly. It was too sturdy to be blown away by any forces.

“Hurt her to save her.” Narcissa’s voice echoed through Draco’s mind all the way back to the castle. The Room of Requirement didn’t appear that night, and so the boy went to bed instead. He entered an empty Slytherin common room and even though the fire was burning, Draco couldn’t feel its warmth. Not even as he knelt in front of the flames, attempting to warm his freezing hands. His movements were mechanic. As he laid in bed that night, he couldn’t remember how exactly he got back into the dorm from the Shack.

However, he remembered events that took place years ago perfectly.

He especially remembered the night of the Yule Ball, two years prior. He can pinpoint the exact moment he spotted you in the crowd of well-dressed students. It was, in his mind, the first time he really, truly saw you. He remembered the small -but noticeable skip of his heart that happened as soon as his eyes landed on your figure. You were smiling, but sitting at the wrong table – which confused him for a moment. You were sat at the Gryffindor table, right next to the Weasley twins who were making you laugh. A Ravenclaw boy whose name Draco didn’t know was behind you, resting his hands on your shoulders thus signaling that he was your date that night through possessive body language. You didn’t acknowledge his presence much, though.

Pansy, Draco’s date, made comments about your dress each time you stood up to dance. The long dark blue satin dress gently touched the ground with each step you took, the slit in its side slightly exposed your leg with each movement. There was a smile on your face the whole night.

Draco thought you looked so beautiful.

He thought you looked beautiful even when your glance danced towards Ron Weasley until the end of the ball.

Draco also remembered the night Pansy dragged you into Umbridge’s office a year later. She held your arms behind your back forcefully while you struggled to get out of her grasp. Your wand was in her possession and you looked angry. A great juxtaposition to how you looked on the night of the Yule Ball. He remembered thinking how much sense it made for you to be tangled in Harry Potter’s mess because that’s what Potter did. He had everyone on his side, all odds in his favor while Draco was being dealt bad cards at every turn.

You fought and tried to get away from Pansy. Your hair was messy, and your oversized blue sweater was getting untucked from your jeans with each forceful move you made. A frown painted your soft features, your eyes seemed darker than usual. Draco caught a glimpse of the scars on your wrist which he immediately knew came from Umbridge’s detention sessions, and he felt a flicker of rage rise into his stomach. The feeling directly contradicted the satisfaction he had been feeling at the sight of Potter getting his plans spoiled right in front of him.

“Parkinson, lay it off.” Draco found himself spitting when he realized the pressure on your wrist was painful. He spoke before he realized what he was doing, and so he found the confused gazes of Ginny and Ron Weasley, Neville Longbottom, and you – all fixed on him. Pansy obeyed Draco with discomfort.

You looked at him quizzingly, not really understanding why he was suddenly…helping you? He met your gaze just for a second before a heavy glare returned in his eyes and he turned away, focusing entirely on Harry and Umbridge.

It was minutes later when he watched your figure getting smaller as you ran away from Umbridge’s office, escaping with your friends. Draco and his friends were left behind and unable to follow as they each struggled with curses thrown at them in the escape. You were all long gone by the time the group of Slytherins came to, and Draco remembered that he found himself wishing he had people running into the line of fire for him like Harry did – he wished you would’ve glanced back at him in your escape and then weeks later when he was told about the events of that night, he found himself hoping his father didn’t hurt you in the Ministry attack.

Those thoughts and memories didn’t stay with him for long that summer, though. Draco couldn’t say that you crossed his mind after he received the Mark.

Until that night.

It was late and he was in the Room of Requirement, still fiddling with the cabinet. It was the fourth consecutive night spent in there after finding the damn thing, and he wasn’t anywhere close to fixing it. Frustrated, he punched and kicked the wood so hard that his knuckles sent sharp waves of pain through his arm. It was because of the noise he was making, the kicks and grunts that he didn’t hear the Room’s doors open and close.

You had previously been in the Gryffindor common room, attending one of their parties. There weren’t lots of Ravenclaws there – hell, it was only you, Stiles, Padma, Anthony and Michael. And it was all going well. You were sat on a bean bag chair with Stiles in-between your legs, surrounded by your Gryffindor friends: Ron, Harry, Hermione, Neville and Ginny, with Dean and Seamus on their way to you all with butterbeers in hand. The atmosphere was fun and light – a welcomed escape from the reality surrounding you, but you all decided to enjoy the moment and pretend the world outside the common room didn’t exist for the night. So you sat close to the fire and you didn’t know if the hot flames were warming you up or if it was the fact that Ron was focusing an unusual amount of attention on you.

You’ve had a crush on the Weasley boy since third year, and no matter what you did, you couldn’t stop your heart from beating faster each time he smiled at you.

You were having a great time.

“And if I become an Animagus to help Scott, then what?” Stiles spoke. Harry shook his head. You puffed. “What? We’d be the new generation of the Marauders; someone has to keep the legacy alive.” He continued, determined.

“Lupin would kill you, mate.” Ron laughed.

“You know animagi don’t pick their animal though, right?” You questioned. Stiles looked up at you and beamed.

“I know. But it’s like, vibe related so I think I’m safe. I’d absolutely be a dog, or a wolf.”

You glanced worryingly at Harry, but the boy simply burst out laughing and denied jokingly. Everyone else hearing the conversation laughed as well.

“Stiles, if it’s vibe related then you’d be a weasel.” You spoke, prompting laughs from everyone. Ron high fived you for the joke and you smiled wider than you thought possible.

The good mood didn’t last long, though. Only moments later Lavender Brown joined the group and comfortably sat herself in Ron’s lap. You watched him give her a quick kiss and wrap his arms around her. “What are we talking about?” She asked and it was as if your ears got covered. The sound faded, your smile dropped, your shoulders slumped. Ron would never like you back, you had to accept that. It was pathetic how you longed for the boy for so long.

So, you excused yourself and left the common room entirely to take a walk. You didn’t expect to end up outside the Room of Requirement, and you didn’t even feel like going inside. But the hall was dark and cold and you began hearing footsteps and the flickering light of Filch’s lantern slowly began illuminating the stone walls and with a haste movement, you went into the Room before Filch could walk around the corner and catch you.

You found yourself in a Room much different from the training grounds you had known while being part of the D.A. Tall piles of clutter seemed to reach the ceiling and despite the room being extremely vast, it felt tiny and crowded because of all the objects tossed and piled everywhere in sight. You walked on a path formed through columns made out of old boxes and books, all piled amongst stacked chairs, empty owl cages and rusty potions equipment. Loud bangs followed by grunts caused you to stop in your tracks and draw out your wand. The room in itself seemed unpredictable, and so you already had about six defensive spells ready to go in your mind and on the tip of your tongue.

You caught a glimpse of platinum blond hair before anything else. It looked messy – very different from the way Draco usually wore it: slick and perfect. Now, it gave you the feeling that he’d been vigorously running his fingers through it, causing it to become tousled. He was only in a white shirt – the robe, vest and tie laid disregarded on a near-by couch.

Lowering your wand, you gently knocked on a table to get his attention.

He turned around in a panic. His hand reached for his wand but stopped midair when he saw you. “What are you doing here?” Draco spat with no hesitation. His heart skipped a beat again, like it did on the night of the Yule Ball.

“I could ask you the same thing.” You responded, glancing at the cabinet in front of him. At the time, you didn’t think anything of it.

“None of your business.”

“I don’t care anyway.” You glared. “This room appeared to me like it did for you and since I think I need it, I’m not leaving.” With your arms crossed, you leaned against a random tossed out piece of furniture.

“Isn’t there a Gryffindor party you should be at?” Draco’s gaze remained cold and the scowl on his face didn’t falter.

“You know about that?”

“Don’t sound so surprised, I know everything that goes on around here.” He broke eye contact by focusing on folding up his sleeves. When his hand began working on his left forearm, he stopped abruptly, remembering. He went stiff at the realization, which you noticed. Before you could speak however, he looked back at you with a smirk, “Was Lavender Brown there so you ran away?” It was as if he didn’t look struck by lightning just two seconds before.

However, his words made you forget his strange behavior. “The hell? I don’t know what you mean.”

“Oh, come on, (Y/L/N). Everyone knows you have the hots for Weasley. Least you can do is own up to it.” He teased with a mixture of annoyance and amusement present on his face.

“Piss off, Malfoy.” Walking up to the old couch Draco’s uniform laid on top of, you sat down and watched as the dust flew out of its cushion. Draco groaned. “I’m just gonna nap here until I’m sure Filch left and isn’t near the Ravenclaw tower.”

Draco mumbled some things you didn’t bother to understand, and then silence befell both of you. He didn’t really bother to fight you to leave even though, in retrospect, he should have had. Maybe if you didn’t stay with him that night, he wouldn’t be meeting you in the Room months later with tears burning his eyes. But, to be fair, he couldn’t have known that night. That night, he just rolled his eyes at you breaking the silence ten minutes later, when he thought you were asleep.

“What are you even doing there?”

“I told you, none of your business.” He spat.

“Is that the vanishing cabinet Peeves broke a few years ago?”

Draco turned around. It was his turn to be surprised by your knowledge. “How do you know about that?” He couldn’t help but let his eyes roam over your figure as you sat cross-legged on the old couch he napped on countless times before. You wore casual clothes – which he always thought looked great on you, and your hair laid straight over your shoulders. The few candles he had lit around softly luminated your face with warm tones.

You smiled proudly at his question.

“Fred and George shoved Montague in it last year” you laughed “it was quite funny.”

Draco remembered the incident. He was, after all, the one who found Montague stuck in a bathroom after the encounter with the twins.

“You’re trying to fix it, aren’t you?” Draco watched you jump up from the couch and walk next to him to examine the cabinet. He suddenly felt on edge, exposed. The Ravenclaw in you was jumping to solve a problem, while the Slytherin in him was about to explode. “Have you tried a mending charm?”

“Of course, I tried a mending charm.” Draco answered with annoyance in his voice. You rolled your eyes. “It doesn’t work.”

“Well, then- “

“I don’t need nor want your help, (Y/L/N).” He glared down at you. “I can handle it myself.”

“Asshole.” You mumbled before taking a few steps back from Draco. He didn’t turn to you. Instead, he focused on his task even though his mind wasn’t on it anymore. He focused on your footsteps as you began to walk away without another word and before he could overthink, he spoke up softly. “But you can stay, if you want.”

You didn’t stop walking as you answered him. “I don’t.”

Draco then heard you utter “Lumos”, heard your footsteps getting quitter and quieter, then the heavy doors being pulled open. After they closed, he found himself surrounded by silence once again. Not dwelling on it, he pushed the thought of you away and resumed his work. Nothing was more important than his assignment.

Things slowly started to shift after that night.

The next day in Transfiguration as he was zoning out, a paper butterfly landed on his desk. He glanced around the room but saw nobody giving any sign of sending him the note. However, after he opened it and read its contents, his eyes immediately found you. On the paper was a list of incantations that would be useful in repairing things, and he knew you had sent it even though you looked focused on the textbook in front of you. It looked as if you were purposefully trying to ignore him, and Draco allowed the ghost of a smirk to form at the corners of his lips.

Two nights later, Draco walked into the Room of Requirement and you were already there. A few more candles than usual were lit as you sat on the (now clean looking) couch, reading a heavy, dense book. “Have they worked?” you asked without looking up from your book.

Draco sighed, loosening his tie. “No.”

And as time passed, you and Draco began spending more and more time together. Initially, you tried to help him fix the cabinet. It gave you a distraction from Ron and Lavender. But it was also obvious that fixing the old thing was important to him – he seemed desperate and for some reason, you felt like helping. And so, you found yourself sitting close to Draco on that old, tossed out couch with different heavy books resting in your lap every night, both searching for spells that could work. Each few day the space between you decreased until you reached a point where your knees touched and your shoulder pressed into his bicep. Sometimes you could even feel his minty breath on your face – just for a second. But the feeling began to linger even as you walked the stairs up to the Ravenclaw tower late at night.

You also found yourself thinking less and less about Ron.

Then, about a month after the Gryffindor party, the Katie Bell incident took place.

Harry began suspecting Draco of the attack and accused him of being a Death Eater. You didn’t go to the Room of Requirement for a few days after that because honestly, you were scared. You knew, deep in your heart that what Harry was saying made sense and because of that you started to believe that Draco’s cabinet wasn’t just some fun project. You lit on fire all the parchment you had written mending charms on, in a haste and with shaky hands.

You didn’t want to see him after that.

But you found yourself days later sneaking out of the tower late at night, quietly making your way to the seventh floor.

Draco got heavily scolded by Snape for the necklace attempt. The Professor found his action completely foolish and didn’t hesitate to let Draco know that. The boy arrived at the Room feeling beaten, defeated. On top of that, he was met by the empty couch and the broken cabinet and he snapped. In a fit of rage, he broke one of the cabinet’s doors and threw it at the couch. The noise he caused rang through the entire room, momentarily covering the silence. He couldn’t bear the sight of his failure any longer and the thought that you were now possibly scared of him after rumors of him being a Death Eater spread around the school, thanks to Potter, angered him even more.

“Training for the next Triwizard Tournament, Malfoy?”

Your voice made him turn around quickly, surprised look on his face.

A small smile danced at your lips, and you took out your wand. Pointing it at the broken door, you cast out “Repairo,” and the door lifted from the couch, gently levitating towards the cabinet and fixing itself. In the end, it looked as if nothing had happened. “At least this works, otherwise you would’ve had to pick up some muggle skills.” You teased.

Draco let out a small laugh, before his face fell again and he sat down on the dusty floor. His back rested against some other piece of forgotten furniture and he brought his knees up, hugging them to his chest. His head fell back, and he closed his eyes.

You quietly sat next to him with a huff.

“Why are you here?” Draco asked quietly.

After a moment of silence, you answered with honesty “I don’t know.” And you didn’t. You couldn’t understand why, despite the pit in your stomach that took shape as soon as Harry accused Draco of being a Death Eater, you were alone with him in a secret room, late at night.

Opening his eyes, Draco made a quick decision. He placed his left hand on your right knee, squeezing. Your eyes met – he looked calm; you were confused. “Do you trust me?” Draco’s voice was just a whisper. Alas, through the deafening silence of the Room, you heard him loud and clear.

“I don’t know.” You answered again. And, mirroring his impulsive move, you placed a hand over his. He felt cold at the touch and as you got used to the slightly stinging feeling, he found comfort in your warmth. “All I know is that I’m here, for some reason. I felt like seeing you.” You admitted, your voice tender and quiet.

Draco didn’t speak for a while. You thought you embarrassed yourself but didn’t dare to move.

“There are things about me that you really wouldn’t like if you knew.” The boy finally spoke. His eyes were glued to the cabinet that was a few feet from you both, but his mind was miles away. “I’m not a good man.” He admitted with no waver in his tone, no hesitation.

And maybe it was the daily, month-long meetings you’ve had with him. Or maybe it was the flicker of decency you saw in him when he got Pansy to release her painful grip on you the previous year. But your mind dug up small events and information buried deep in your memory that made you frown at his words. You remembered Dobby. Harry told you he was the Malfoy’s house elf who tried to keep him safe during second year, and it all seemed strange to you. You knew that house elves, if owned, could not act on their own volition no matter how strong their beliefs and inclinations were. In your mind it seemed unlikely that Dobby left the Malfoys without their knowledge and so, for the longest time you had a hunch it was Draco who sent Dobby to warn Harry. Especially since Lucius was the one who snuck Tom Riddle’s diary into Hogwarts. You were also quite sure it was Draco who helped Harry figure out the monster from the Chamber of Secrets was a Basilisk.

But overall, you knew Draco didn’t grow up in a good environment. He’d been heavily manipulated his entire life and it was in that moment, as you sat next to him on dirty floors, hand on top of his, that you decided whatever he was doing, he was doing either because of blackmail or manipulation.

“You can’t let the bad things from the past define you,” You whispered as your fingers slowly occupied the empty spaces between Draco’s own fingers. He was quick to grip your hand into his. “I think you are good. You’ve just been dealt shit cards.”

Draco didn’t show any emotion as he processed your words. But that night as he lay in his bed all he could think about were your words. Nobody had told him he was a good person before, and he’d never felt supported before in his life. And he felt a wave of emotions hit him all at once. He felt envy because Potter had had you all this time and because of your friendship with him, Draco didn’t get close to you sooner. He felt jealousy because he remembered you were in the Room in the first place because you were heartbroken over Ron – again, someone he didn’t like had all the things Draco felt he should’ve had instead. He felt comfort knowing you weren’t scared of him despite Potter filling your mind with (true) accusations. He felt hopeless because he was a Death Eater now and you were one of the good guys. He also felt entitled, selfish and determined because for the first time in a while, he found himself wanting something – someone, that he wanted for himself: you.

Over the next few months, you both unintentionally grew closer. Draco remembered every smile, every laugh shared between the two of you in the candlelight, hidden deep inside the Room of Requirement. Most days, he worked alone on the cabinet while you studied and pretended he wasn’t doing something potentially harmful. You both found yourselves finding comfort in the other’s mere presence.

You began to think less about Ron and more about Draco and it made you feel strangely guilty, especially when Ron would throw his arm around you like he used to in the Great Hall and you’d catch Draco’s eyes and excuse yourself to move back to the Ravenclaw table.

On certain nights you attempted to get Draco to do homework with you. But with each passing day, he became more and more anxious and afraid. And with each passing day, it hurt and worried you more and more. On a few occasions you did his Transfiguration homework for him just to keep him out of detention.

He owled you a Merry Christmas note during winter break but told you not to write him back. He knew you wished him happy holidays as well.

You gave him a Christmas present when you got back to Hogwarts – a ring, as you’d noticed he liked wearing them. His face lit up at the gesture and it was the first time he embraced you. The action was impulsive but it felt right. One of his arms wrapped around your lower back, the other cradled your head gently. His face buried in your neck and he held you so tight you didn’t dare move. He held you to make sure you were real and wouldn’t slip away from his grasp.

A little over a month later, Draco was feeling the pressure of his tasks heavier than ever. He felt sick each time he looked at the cabinet and you were noticing that. You were also noticing his complete disinterest in school and his reoccurring absences. He’d spend days in the Room, not even coming down to eat. You snuck him meals each time you could but sometimes you’d find them untouched on the floor.

“Alright, Draco. What’s going on?” You confronted him one night.

“Nothing.” He mumbled. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Then help me understand,” you pleaded “Draco you’re not acting like yourself please, tell me what’s going on so I can help.” You never pleaded with a man before, never thought you would. Your ego felt too strong for this. And yet, there you were, standing behind a disheveled Draco Malfoy with an ache in your chest.

He ignored you.

You felt like throwing something at his head.

You watched as he opened the cabinet doors and took out a rotten apple. He held it in his hand for a second too long. It wasn’t unusual, you’ve watched him do this repeatedly over the past five months. You flinched when he threw the apple on the floor with vicious force. He then kicked the bottom of the cabined a bunch of times, yelling out in anger and frustration. His scream echoed through the Room. You pursed your lips.

“I can’t do this.” He finally spoke. “I can’t bloody do this and everyone’s going to die.” He started pacing around the small clearing amidst clutter. “My mum, my dad, me…you – we’re all going to die.” He kicked the plate of food you had brought him a few hours prior, spilling the contents over the floor.

You frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“He’s gonna kill you and mum in front of me, make me watch,” He was frantic “probably gonna torture you first so I die remembering your screams. Then,” he pinched his nose, wiped his mouth “then he’ll kill me. I’ll be last and everyone’s gonna be taking the piss out of me, the fucking kid who couldn’t fix a fucking,” he kicked the cabinet again “magic fucking cabinet!” he kicked and kicked until you could feel the pain he felt in his leg yourself.

You walked up to him and attempted to pull him away from the large wooden broken object, but he pushed you away forcefully. You stumbled back in shock. “How dare – “ You couldn’t finish your sentence, however. He hastily turned to face you, pulling up the sleeve of his left arm aggressively, exposing the Dark Mark.

No words came out of your mouth after that.

You couldn’t seem to peel your eyes off of the mark, and Draco watched you with a pained heart. Part of him expected you to run, another to pull out your wand and attack. He didn’t know which one was coming, he didn’t know which one he preferred. However, he didn’t expect you to walk up to him with slow, steady steps.

His eyes locked with yours as you took his arm into your own. It was as if the Room emptied and the only things in it were the two of you. Holding his arm to your chest, you got as close to him as possible. As he looked down at you, his heavy breath fanned your face. “It’s okay, Draco.” You whispered. “I understand.”

And you did. You understood his choice, understood the position he was forced into. And your heart ached for him.

That’s the night Draco remembered best. The way your figure was illuminated by the soft glow of yellow candles, the soft fabric of your sweater rubbing on his skin. The kindness in your eyes spreading warmth through his veins, the way your lips moved when you spoke his name. Most times he thought about conjuring a Patronus, Draco believed the memory of that night was what he needed to focus on in order to succeed.

With his hand on the back of your head, he quickly lowered himself to reach your height and caught your lips in a kiss. He felt you smiling into it and he found himself mirroring you, until you pulled away to giggle into his shoulder. He couldn’t do anything besides kissing the top of your head.

Days later you were both laying on the couch you had transformed into a cozy spot. You were focused on his Mark, tracing your fingers along the lines of it, gently. Draco knew he was supposed to feel pride in having the Mark – that’s what his family had told him, but he felt something close to shame each time he looked at it.

You rested your hand on top of it, covering it. “I’m sorry. But we’ll figure it out.”

“Together?”

“Together.”

A week later he was forced into the meeting with his mom and Snape at the Shrieking Shack. The following night he walked towards the Room of Requirement late, with heavy steps. It felt as if each movement he made on the way happened in slow-motion.

You were reading comfortably when he finally reached you. A smile formed on your lips upon seeing him, but it faded when you took in his appearance, his sour face, hardened figure, stone gaze. “What’s wrong?”

Draco didn’t speak, only pointed his wand towards you. You froze. “Draco?” His hand shook, his face wavered. You were confused.

“I have to do this, (Y/N). He’ll kill you otherwise.” Draco’s voice cracked.

“No, he won’t. You’re a skilled Occlumentist, right? He can’t get into your mind.” You immediately caught on.

He shook his head. “He’ll know, he’ll know. Snape knows, mum knows,” he sounded so scared that you attempted to get up to comfort him, but he threated so you sat back down “he’ll know.”

Tears formed and blurred your vision as your heart picked up speed.

“You know, I didn’t wanna think about you, I wanted to stay focused. I came here to do a task, that’s it. I came to be great, to do great things for the Dark Lord.” Draco began, “But then I saw you. I’ve wanted you since fourth year and then here you were, being good to me and…you woke up a weakness inside me. And I got selfish, I put my mission aside to get something for myself.”

Tears now ran down your face, and Draco mirrored you. You shook your head, silently pleading for him to reconsider.

“But I have a mission, (Y/N) and it’s so important. I can’t be distracted. And I can’t have you being associated with me – it’ll get you killed and I can’t – I can’t have it.”

The candles flickered and for a split second your mind went to a Divination class, where Trelawney explained candle magic. Their dancing light showed instability, chaotic energy while its tall flame indicated success brought about with complications. The air felt cold as you stared at Draco who hadn’t fully stepped into the candlelight. An abyss of darkness stood tall behind him, the sights of it deepening the pit in your stomach. Despite his shaky hands, dark circles underneath his saddened eyes and hollow cheeks, Draco looked put-together. His hair wasn’t messy like it was the first night you found him in the Room. It was back to its slick, flawless style. He wore his all-black suit, and his tie wasn’t loosened.

“I also can’t have you walk out of here knowing everything about me.” His voice hardened and for the first time while being with him, you felt fear.

“I won’t tell anyone.” Your voice was small. You sat up, your eyes beginning to look for a way out.

“I can’t risk it, you’re friends with Potter. You’re one of the good guys.”

“I won’t put you in danger, Draco.”

He grimaced at your words as if they’ve hit him with the force of a Cruciatus Curse. He tried not to let any more tears fall. You took his reaction as an opportunity to get closer to him. Maybe if you could take away his wand, touch him. Maybe then you could change his mind.

“I won’t endanger you either,” He whispered. “That’s why I have to do this.” At that, he lowered his wand and took two long strides towards you. Another one of his unpredictable actions that left you frozen in your spot. In a swift motion, he cupped your face between his calloused palms. “You know this is the right choice.”

“No,” you whispered and shook your head “no, it’s not. You can teach me Occlumency, I can help you,” your fearful eyes bore into his saddened ones, his heart ached at your words, at the fear he was capable of instilling in you. “We’re a good team, remember? I can help.” You kept pleading as your own hands rested on top of his. You felt the ring you’d given him still on his finger.

He simply shook his head with a small, almost unnoticeable smile on his face. “I’ve already corrupted you enough.” Draco admitted and you were taken aback; rendered speechless. “You’ve been covering for me with your friends, lying to Professors, basically doing my homework while I’m working on bringing the school down.”

Your heart dropped; hands started shaking. Draco felt it. He felt the weight of his words starting to crush you. Down in your mind you knew he was doing something bad with the cabinet, but you didn’t think it was so drastic.

Draco continued. Hurt her to save her, his mom’s words rang through his mind. “I’m using the Vanishing Cabinet to bring Death Eaters into Hogwarts,” his words made you remember the Death Eaters attack at the Quidditch World Cup, where you were almost trampled. You remembered the attack on London that sent one of your family members to the Hospital. You remembered how ruthless the Death Eaters were at the Ministry, when they were throwing deadly curses at a bunch of teenagers.

And there it was.

The look of betrayal, hurt and fear on your face that Draco never wanted to see. He tried to remember the night you saw his Mark, the night you accepted and comforted him. That’s what he wanted to remember, not this. “After I get them here, I’m going to kill Dumbledore.” He continued.

Chills erupted on your body and you recoiled from his touch.

“I knew you were planning something bad, but this, Draco?” You couldn’t speak louder than a whisper as you took small steps away from him. He knew this was coming; the disgust, the unacceptance. Was your speech about understanding him all bullshit? “You don’t have to- “

“Yes, I do. It’s my mission.”

“No, listen to me. You’re not this person, you’re not a Death Eater. I know you, Draco. You’re still a good person put in a terrible situation but it’s not all lost, we can-“ Despite your fear, you still found yourself comforting him, pleading with him. Your mind lead an inner battle between understanding the boy’s motives and wanting to let Harry know of everything that was happening.

You couldn’t let Dumbledore die, couldn’t let Death Eaters attack Hogwarts.

“I cursed Katie Bell. Almost killed her.” Draco cut you off.

“I know.” You deadpanned. He parted his lips and frowned in confusion. “I saw the necklace in your bag a week before it all happened. Then I saw it on McGonagall’s desk. It wasn’t hard to piece together the puzzle.” You explained.

Despite the warmth spreading through his heart at the thought of you not abandoning him even after knowing that all those months ago, at the thought that he’d finally found someone to be on his side for once in his life, someone who understood and maybe even actually loved him – despite it all, Draco’s eyes had never showed less emotion.

You wanted to cry but didn’t. Your ego won.

“You know I have to do this, (Y/N).” His voice didn’t waver anymore. The more reasons you gave him to love you, the more his decision solidified in his mind. “And you know I’m doing the right thing,” he wanted to hold you so bad, but he didn’t move; instead, you both stood feet away from each other. “Knowing all this puts you in danger. Coming here every night puts you in danger hell, even looking at me in the Great Hall puts you in danger. I can’t see you brought into the manor tied up, imprisoned and killed as a punishment for me. And you know I’m right. I’m not just some irrelevant follower, I’ve sat at a damn table with The Dark Lord countless times this summer. He’s been in my home; he knows me personally.”

You couldn’t look at him the more he spoke. So, your gaze was stuck on a candle, but your eyes remained unfocused.

“You’re smart.” Draco kept speaking, his tone now loud and confident. “This is the part where you tell me that even though you wanna change my mind, you know I’m doing the right thing,” he even joked. You wanted to cry but couldn’t speak. He was right. “Tell me you’re proud of me because I’m putting someone else’s wellbeing above my own for once” his voice became muffled, as if he spoke from underwater. It was silent for a moment as Draco watched you process his words, “You’ll be on the right side of history after this. You’ll go back to Weasley who’s a better choice for you than I could ever be – even though it kills me to say that.”

All you could do was shake your head in disbelief.

By the time you looked back up at him, he had a few tears running down his face and his wand pointed at you. And so you cried.

“We were a good team, weren’t we?” Draco spoke with one last saddened smile.

“Draco, please. I love –“ you began, but Draco couldn’t bear hear it.

You watched Draco wipe his tears with a swift motion, before a white light formed at the tip of his wand. His voice came out strong, unwavering, and determined. His hand stopped shaking.

“Obliviate,” Draco uttered before you could react.

#draco malfoy #draco x reader #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy fanfic #draco malfoy one shot #draco malfoy imagines #harry potter #harry potter imagine #draco malfoy angst #draco malfoy x reader #ron weasley #ron weasley imagine #hhtsh

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the-dream-team · 4 years ago

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What I Would Do

Read it on AO3

“And if you come anywhere within spitting distance of my friends again, you’ll lose a lot more than your voice, Mulciber .”

Lily Evans stared down the Slytherin whose ability to speak she’d stolen with a well-practiced Silencing Charm. Unable to spit out anymore foul language, Mulciber narrowed his eyes and stormed off towards the dungeons, accepting defeat. She turned to Mary and gave her a small smile. That problem was taken care of. For now, at least.

“Oh, that was marvelous!” came a clear, familiar voice from across the corridor. “Evans, you’re one helluva witch, have I told you that yet today?” Jamie Potter grinned at Lily, one hand clutching her stupid stolen snitch and another combing through her tangle of wild curls. Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew followed close behind her, as they always did. She playfully swatted Sirius’ shoulder and tugged at her shirt collar. “Padfoot, you know I can’t resist a girl who stands up against those bastard Death Eaters-in-training.” Sirius barked out a laugh.

Lily rolled her eyes. “Knock it off, Potter, or you’ll be next on my hit-list.”

Jamie’s grin only broadened. “Evans, you drive me crazy, you know that? I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, what I would do if you started flying for the other team…”

As Jamie and her posse sauntered off down the hall, Mary sighed.

“It must be hard for her,” she said softly.

“Hard for who, Potter?” asked Lily in disbelief.

“Yes, Jamie, ” said Mary. “Having those kinds of unrequited feelings seeing as she’s the only girl here who… y’know.”

Lily’s mouth gaped open. “Mary! There are no feelings involved. Potter just can’t let go of an old joke.”

Mary raised her eyebrows. “If you say so.”

Unbelievable. Lily crossed her arms and furrowed her brow the rest of the way to the Library. Unrequited feelings my arse, she thought with a huff. Potter had been acting out the same schtick for years. She loved boasting about her deep, dramatic attraction towards Lily (most often in public places) and calling Lily’s preferences into question. It made her uneasy, and Potter knew it. Jamie liked rileing her up.

Of course, she had to admit it hadn’t started as a joke. Their third year, during a particularly rowdy Herbology lesson, Lily and Jamie got into a row over the Leaping Toadstools they were meant to be picking in the forest. After some bickering over who would be in charge of catching the mushrooms and a bit of shoving back and forth, Lily eventually threatened Jamie with a Bat-Bogey hex if she kept getting in her way.

Before she could stop herself, in front of the entire class, Jamie practically shouted, “Bloody hell, Evans, what I would do if only you were into girls.”

The heat burned so deeply on Lily’s cheeks that day, sometimes she still felt the licks of fire teasing her skin nearly four years later. The panic. The embarrassment. The fear. It all boiled up from her knotted stomach and racing heart, presenting as a disgusted expression that could only be painful for the receiving end.

Jamie’s usually confident smirk had been replaced with a gaping mouth and... were those tears welling in her eyes?

After the initial shock, Lily tried softening her expression, but the damage was done. In an instant, Jamie swiped a hand under her glasses, ran another through her fringe, and put on a forced lopsided grin. “So, er, you’ll keep me updated if anything changes, yeah?”

She let out a laugh, looking for the boys to back her up. They chuckled along with her the best they could while Jamie shrugged to the class and went back to their Toadstools, avoiding Lily’s eye for the rest of the lesson.

A stormcloud of guilt brewed in Lily’s chest the following weeks. Jamie had taken to staying in the boy’s dorm to avoid any kind of contact with her and the other girls. Sirius had stepped up, becoming extra protective of her and sending daggers at anyone who dared to even glance in Jamie’s direction. Lily tried getting her alone to apologize for weeks before eventually cornering her and Remus one day after Defense Against the Dark Arts.

“Potter,” said Lily, breathless as she chased her down the hallway, “please, I wanted to talk to you.”

Jamie spun around with a dazzling smile. “Evans! Coming to tell me you’ve finally changed your mind?”

The flirtatious wink sent Lily over the edge, her planned speech quickly abandoned. “Oh, you’re impossible!”

“Don’t worry, love,” Jamie casually laughed, “take your time, I can wait.”

Completely speechless and beyond flustered, Lily had no choice but to storm away. She was thirteen and emotional, and years away from controlling the way her feelings manifested themselves. So for the following weeks (and then years) as Jamie kept up the teasing, Lily responded emphatically with thunderous huffs and exaggerated scoffs.

By seventh year, their routine became so practiced, Lily barely noticed her heart skip anymore when Jamie shot off her endless string of compliments. Barely flinched when Potter suggested there could be a question of Lily’s tastes.

There weren’t any questions.

She didn’t fancy girls.

Had there been close calls through the years? Sure.

On a warm spring day down by the lake, when Dorcas placed an innocent hand on Lily’s thigh while laughing at a dumb joke, had Lily’s stomach somersaulted in a not-totally-unpleasant way? Yes. Had she spent the next few months secretly hoping it would happen again? Possibly.

Had there been times where Lily caught her eyes wandering to the hems of skirts or lingering on Jamie’s impossibly long eyelashes, only magnified by those stupid, round wire-rimmed lenses? It didn’t matter.

Those moments weren’t real. They never formed as full sentences in her head, mentally blocked before they took shape. The heat on her leg left behind from Dorcas’s touch didn’t mean anything if she didn’t give it a name. Ideas could float untethered around her mind as long as they never met the ground.

The thoughts she had about boys were real. Shared giggles with Mary about Sirius Black’s sharp jawline or Amos Diggory’s playful charm flowed with ease. Her crush on Remus Lupin during their fourth year terrified her to admit out loud, but there had never been a question about whether she was allowed to let her imagination run wild over his floppy sandy hair and pleasant quiet smile. Boys were easy.

The thought of liking girls never would have crossed her mind if Jamie hadn’t said those words to her in Herbology all those years ago. Lily hadn’t even known that was an option before. Perhaps if Jamie had kept her mouth shut, if she hadn’t spent the next four years poking and prodding at Lily’s very secure sexuality, then Lily would never have found herself repeating the whispered phrase in her mind,

Please don’t let me fancy girls. Please, please don’t let me fancy girls.

***

On one unusually warm and breezy day in March, Professor Slughorn called for Lily to stay behind for a moment after Potions. She waved on her friends, promising to meet them at the Great Hall later for lunch, and happily made her way to the front of the classroom.

“Miss Evans!” boomed Slughorn. “I had a favor to ask of you if you’d be up to it.”

“Of course,” she said. The Potions Professor had always been one of her biggest supporters at Hogwarts and she rarely passed up an opportunity to lend a hand.

“You see, I’ve completely run out of Flobberworm Mucus and I’ve got a lesson on Sleeping Draughts for my first years this afternoon.” He checked his watch and shook his head as a group of fourth years started parading into the dungeons. “And as you can see, I’ve got classes back to back until then! My dear, would you mind running down to Pippen’s Apothecary during your lunch break? I can write you a note and let Minerva know you’ll be popping down to Hogsmead for just a moment…”

“I’d be more than happy to,” said Lily, eager to get outside and stretch her legs. The prospect of getting to see the little village outside of the usually scheduled trips thrilled her.

“Wonderful!” said Slughorn, summoning a piece of parchment and adding his signature in a swooping, elegant script. “A tankard of mucus should do, and of course they know where to bill it to.”

Lily grabbed the note with a grin and spun on her heel to head out the door, practically skipping on her way out.

The moment she stepped outside the castle, her lungs filled with a humid air, fresh from the previous night’s rain. Puddles littered the pathways, serving as an extra reminder to enjoy the sunny weather when it managed to crash through the otherwise constant cover of clouds. With a squeal of excitement, Lily shrugged off her robes and rolled up her sleeves, letting the warm breeze wash over her skin and whip through her hair.

A rare taste of independence played on Lily’s lips, curling up the corners into a wide smile. She held onto the precious moment alone, briskly walking towards the village as she imagined what life outside of Hogwarts had in store for her. Adulthood approached as quickly as the little shops and bustling pathways of Hogsmeade Village, and soon she reached her destination.

Faint, tinkling bells announced Lily’s arrival as she stepped through the front door of Pippen’s Apothecary. Sunlight poured through the large front windows, soaking the rows of shelves with a golden glow. Bundles of herbs, jars of multi-colored liquids, and barrels of crystals lined the shop’s walls and overflowed into its hallways. And towards the front of the store, a knobly old man in a well-worn cloak stroked a mewing black cat with round, yellow eyes.

“Welcome to Pippens,” he smiled. “It’s not a Hogwarts weekend, is it?”

Lily ignored the disappointed pang of being recognized as a student and approached the front counter. “No, sir, it’s a tuesday,” she said. “I’ve just been sent by Professor Slughorn to pick up a tankard of Flobberworm Mucus.”

“Ah, of course,” said the man, squinting down at Lily’s note. “Old Horace runs through that mucus faster than a unicorn during a solar eclipse.”

She let the unfamiliar metaphor fall to the side with a chuckle and watched the shopkeeper shuffle back into his storage closet. The cat nudged Lily’s arm with a soft meow, unflinching towards the clanking and bumping sounds of the man pouring a thick liquid into a pint-sized container.

“I’ve put Horace’s invoice in the bag here,” said the man, handing over a canvas tote with the mucus lovingly wrapped up inside. “He knows where to find me!”

Lily thanked him with and grin and gave the cat another scratch behind the ears before turning to leave.

“Now you didn’t hear this from me,” called the man as Lily was halfway out the door, “but Fortescue’s brought his ice cream cart out for the first warm day of the year, and I hear he’s handing out free samples.” He sent a cheery wink in her direction.

“Oh, thank you, sir!” Lily beamed and she waved goodbye.

Ice cream sounded lovely.

The cart wasn’t hard to find, as a small crowd of villagers had lined up to take advantage of Fortescue’s deal. The giddiness of being surrounded by adults in the real world fluttered back as Lily queued with other shopkeeps on their lunch breaks and locals enjoying an afternoon on the streets. When it came her turn to order, she received a generous sample of the mint chocolate chip and a sweet smile from Florean Fortescue himself.

She couldn’t dream up a more perfect afternoon. Lily walked slowly through the streets of Hogsmead, determined to drink in as much of the gorgeous day as possible. The trees, just starting to bud, swayed back and forth rhythmically, and the grass, freshly watered, still smelled like a new morning’s dew. She watched the witches and wizards stroll down the pathways. A short man with a top hat chased after a yappy dog while a large wizard peered down at his comically small pocket watch, and on a bench across the street from where she stood, two witches took turns sharing an ice cream cone.

Lily’s heart skipped a beat as her eyes locked onto the women sitting together on the bench. They looked to be in their late twenties or possibly early thirties. Both wore fashionable cloaks with trendy hairstyles and one of the women was reading a well-loved book in between licks of chocolate ice cream, her feet propped up on the bench, and her shoulder leaning against the other woman. A warmth flooded Lily’s chest as her heartrate quickened watching the pair, shocked by how lovely she found the simple scene.

Lily watched as the reading witch, not taking her eyes from her book, angled her head to ask for another bite of ice cream, but instead of bringing the cone to her lips as she had done before, the other woman surprised her with a quick kiss. The overwhelming flood of emotions burst from Lily’s chest in a gasp.

She wanted what she saw before her. She wanted the lazy afternoon sitting on a bench, curled up with a book and an ice cream cone and a girl to lean against.

Her mind raced with thoughts crashing to the ground with such force that their echos reverberated through her entire body, making her knees week and hands tremble. Every blurry idea in her head racked into focus, each half formulated sentence allowed itself to be completed with an exclamation point. Lily stared ahead at the bench where the possibilities of her future blew open like a firework spreading across the night sky.

After what felt like ages of watching the two witches, Lily finally peeled her gaze away and forced herself to make her way back to Hogwarts. Every step felt like walking on clouds as she practically floated up the road towards the castle. That is until she came face to face with another girl wearing a school uniform and a stupidly happy grin on her face.

“Potter?”

“Evans?”

Jamie had appeared in front of her out of thin air.

“What are you doing at Hogsmeade?” asked Lily, praying her shaking voice wasn’t too obvious. She hadn’t been prepared to see Jamie while her emotions were this heightened. The pounding of her heart beat into her eardrums and threatened to leap out her throat. Jamie wore her usual crooked smile, so effortless on her soft features, mirrored perfectly in those mischievous hazel eyes.

“I could ask you the same question,” said Jamie, cocking an eyebrow. That feeling of anger Lily associated with Potter and her teasing bubbled up to the surface. But it wasn’t anger she felt. It was fear. A deep fear of how Jamie’s playful jokes made her stomach flutter and her cheeks blush. And now that Lily’s image of herself grew clearer in her mind’s eye with every passing moment, she no longer had the capacity to bottle up and explain away the fear she felt when looking at Jamie Potter, who had always made her feel this way.

Feeling so desperately alive, she had to do something.

“I’m running an errand for Professor Slughorn,” she said calmly, “but I can assume you don’t have an excuse to be outside the castle.”

“Ah, you caught me, Evans,” said Jamie with a chuckle. “Look, I was just popping down to Honeydukes to pick Remus up his favorite chocolate bars. I could’ve taken the tunnel- and I probably should’ve considering our little run-in here- but it’s such a lovely day that I said screw it and walked the path instead.” She shrugged her shoulders, not looking too disappointed about being discovered.

Lily narrowed her eyes and put all of her efforts into provoking Jamie. “Well, maybe I should just say screw it and give you a month's worth of detentions, Potter.”

It worked. Jamie’s eyes widened like saucers and her smirk grew into a proper grin. “Oh, Evans, stop that, you’re making me blush! Merlin, what I would do if you ever switched your fancies.”

Jamie had walked right into her trap. With a deep breath and a pointed stare, trying to convey every feeling exploding through her body, Lily responded, “What would you do?”

Jamie froze, clearly never expecting a reply to the scenario she so often suggested.

Lily ignored the flush spreading across her face and continued. “What would you do if I told you I fancied girls. If I fancied you. ” Her heart thudded so painfully against her chest, she thought she might be sick.

Jamie stood slackjawed, not breaking eye contact, like a deer in headlights. The girl who always had a quick comeback or a smart retort for every situation had been rendered speechless. The painful reality that Jamie’s previous words had no intent of action behind them crashed over Lily like a wave breaking in the middle of an ocean storm. And now the drops of saltwater spilled over, stinging the corners of her eyes.

“Enjoy your time in the village, Potter,” she said softly as she turned away from Jaimie, escaping the nightmare as quickly as possible.

The ground, which had felt weightless only a moment ago, became hard and cruel under her feet as she trudged back up the path to the castle. How could she be so stupid? Why did she allow her bursting adrenalin to make her do something so reckless?

“Evans!” Jamie shouted from behind, but Lily wouldn’t turn around, couldn’t let Potter see the tears welling in her eyes. “Lily, wait!”

A hand clutched Lily’s wrist and tugged back hard, spinning her whole body around in a flash. Two gentle palms grasped the side of her head and cupped her cheek while hazel eyes bore into her own. Jamie Potter’s face was inches from her own, dazed and flustered and looking for a clue.

Lily responded instinctually with the only clue Jamie needed. A laughing smile of uncontainable joy.

Jamie crashed forward, meeting Lily’s lips in an exhilarating kiss that set her nerve endings on fire. Soft and firm, the years of pent up emotion spilled between their mouths and hands and bodies as they drew closer to one another. Lily ran her fingers through Jamie’s wonderful hair and bumped her adorable wire-rimmed glasses with her nose. She never could have known how good this would feel.

When they finally came up for air, Jamie’s face glowed with shock and happiness under the sunlight, her cheeks flushed and eyes unbelieving. Lily couldn’t help but pull her into a tight embrace and commit the feeling of her to memory, never wanting to live in the dark ever again.

“Hey, Jamie?” Lily asked into the girl’s shoulder. “Do you want to go get ice cream with me?”

Jamie tightened the hug, nearly suffocating Lily in the best possible way. “Oh, Evans, what I would do to get ice cream with you.”

#fem!jily february #femslash february #jily #jily fic #dylan writes #fem!james potter #wlw #harry potter #fanfic

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5lazarus · 4 years ago

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Prompt: Snape needs an ingredient for a potion that is a complete pain in the ass to obtain. He can't buy it--he has to find it himself, and it's not going to be easy.

thank you my friend! it took me awhile, but I did it, and this one made me laugh. trying an oilier Snape in this one. Maleficari’s Mutinous Munitions: Sprout grew the wrong kind of mandrakes--mandragora, rather than English mandrakes, and no one knew that there actually was an infinitesimal difference--so Severus needs to save the day before Lockhart can. A little of Slytherin cunning, a willingness to embezzle, and a sense of spite wins the day. Read on AO3 here.

Pomona planted the wrong kind of mandrake--a mandragora, not a proper English mandrake--though none of them knew it would be the wrong kind when they reviewed the syllabus. The faculty is stunned. Severus leans back in his chair and rubs the bridge of his nose. The headache is not building yet, but he knows it will. Sure enough, Gilderoy Lockhart begins to speak. “Well, no matter,” he flourishes. Severus’ expression tightens, and he exchanges a glance with Minerva. Lockhart continues, “Now, with my fast-growing Miracle-Gro I concocted on a swift trip to the American South, asked by the natives of the colony of New Georgia to battle kudzu, their offshoot of Devil’s Snare--” “Kudzu and Devil’s Snare are completely unrelated,” Pomona says repressively, “and not to mention that you would want the opposite of growth with--” Lockhart barrels on, “My unique fertilizer will win the day for us. Never fear, colleagues! I am not just the five-times winner of Witch Weekly’s Most Charming Smile award--there are brains a plenty to back up the beauty.” “Brains,” Severus says, “so that is the secret to the shellac of your hair. I assumed you used a dingbat.” Minerva does not elbow him, and she does not laugh, but she does wink. Severus, of course, does not smirk back--that is his customary grimace crossing his face. Before Lockhart can offer to share hair care tips, for the price of a single smile, Severus turns to Pomona. “I will consult my suppliers in Diurn Alley. Mandrake, rather than mandragora--who wants to tell Granger there is an infinitesimal difference?” Lockhart says, “Man drakes, woman drakes, what does it matter? With my Miracle-Gro compound, your potion will hardly know the difference!”

Pomona puts her head in her hands, and the staff meeting adjourns before Severus can get nasty. Fuming, he billows down the corridor. Lockhart infuriates him. Anyone would have been better than him, anyone--the most notorious pureblood fake on both sides of the Atlantic. Surely Dumbledore could have begged Emmeline Vance to come back, or even had the staff rotate the lessons so the curse would be watered down. At least he can take some satisfaction that something nastily embarrassing will happen to Lockhart by the end of the year. Severus hopes it’s the fatal kind of embarrassing. He hopes his teeth fall out as he attempts to skewer a teenage mandrake, his earmuffs going askew as he panics, and as the mandrake screams in rage and pain Lockhart is knocked unconscious and slams his head against a wall, dying instantly. Severus smiles grimly to himself at the fantasy: but fate is not that good to him. Footsteps patter up to him, and he whirls around to see Minerva staring at him. “You need to get those mandrakes, Severus,” she says. “I will...keep Professor Lockhart entertained.” “Truly the long-suffering Gryffindor,” he returns. “I should think it’s only right we volunteer Albus for the job.” Minerva snorts. “Diabolical. He’s already left for the Ministry, to request us a permit. It’s too late.” Severus says, “The man should’ve been a Slytherin. Bastard. You take Lockhart, and I’ll have those mandrakes found, cut, and stewed by daybreak.” He beats a retreat before she can change her mind. Dumbledore will get him the permit, so Severus Floos to his flat in Diurn Alley and walks quickly and unabashedly to Knockturn Alley, where he’ll get better prices. It is always better to ask forgiveness rather than permission, he feels--every time he has asked, he has been told no, and the school cannot wait for him to scheme his way into the Ministry’s good graces. Besides, he can breathe here. The usual snarling denizens of the darker side of town eye him. A hag attempts to sell him some bile, he flicks her back and she spits at him, so he spits back. He can always use an excuse to fight, since he cannot blast Lockhart to eternity. He enters Maleficari’s Mutinous Munitions with a sneer fixed on his face and the goal to spend no more than two galleons for the whole lot. Pomona is too easily distracted by the wares, and Minerva too prone to refusing to bargain in a self-righteous huff. Only he has the mixture of silky disdain and oily flattery that can win them this--and a flagrant disrespect for the law, but that is neither here nor dare. Dumbledore is taking care of that bit, and Dumbledore never fails a promise. People, yes, he’ll perpetually disappoint, but an iron-clad vow? That Dumbledore will never break. The shopkeeper looks up and says, “Professor Snape. How good of you to peruse my wares. Might I interest you in a drink?” The drink will be poisoned, of course, that is part of the fun of Maleficari’s Munitions. Severus keeps a bezoar on his person for trips such as these. He bows slightly. “Alas,” he drawls, “I am here for business, not pleasure. You have heard of the trouble at the school?” He casts the line and waits for Maleficari to be hooked. Maleficari’s strange jeweled eyes glitter. He deals in ingredients, yes, but who doesn’t also love a bit of gossip? “Witch Weekly’s Walking Smile causing complaints?” Maleficari offers. He pours himself a steaming green shot of what seems to be wormwood liqueur mixed with ground doxy wings. Severus’ nostrils flare: but he assures himself the effects are negligible. “Professor Lockhart performs adequately by his own standards,” Severus says neutrally. “He has only deboned one student, who has no living parents to complain, and thus meets the bare minimum standard of Hogwarts classroom etiquette. But no,” he draws closer, looming over Maleficari and drinking in the scent, “I have come for other trouble. A favor for the faculty at large.” “Extracurricular?” Maleficari whispers, tongue darting quick over his lips. Severus smiles grimly. “No,” he says. “Some old magic has wakened in the school. At least two students have been found petrified solid--but their vitals in status. Old, interesting magic.” Maleficari says, “And an enigma too. You don’t know what it is yet, do you?” “The school is requisitioning five teenage mandrakes from the Ministry,” Severu says archly. “I thought I would save you the paperwork and come to you directly.” Maleficari laughs. He stares at him with his refracting diamond eyes and Severus Occludes hurriedly. He feels the Legilimancy probe, and offers up an old memory of leafing through paperwork with Albus, Minerva pacing in the background. Maleficari withdraws, and Severus looks at him expressionlessly. Most know that he is a Potions Master, some know he is an expert Legilimens, but he keeps his mastery of Occlumency to himself. “Living or dead?” Maleficari says. “I’m certain we can arrange something before the Ministry raids my stores.” Severus smirks, pays two galleons, and writes off five in his expenses. If Dumbledore knows he certainly never asks.

#snapefic #severus snape #harry potter fanfic #pro-snape #fanfic #masaotheheckindog

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be-dazzled · 4 years ago

Text

FT Rare Pairs Week 2020 Day 6

DAY 6: Fantasy Pairing: Rogue Cheney x Minerva Orland Part 1: Longing

Writer’s Corner: I really let go of myself with this one. I just loooove Roguerva. Took me a long time but the important thing is that yes, I made it. Hahaha. Last would be my Day 7 Entry, which is Navia. Please, look forward to it!

Masterlist

---

05:30 P.M.

Rogue could feel the rise of the embarrassment up his head. Everyone was looking at them, all those eyes trained at the little family coming into the front of the temple for a photo memorabilia. He wasn’t used to that kind of attention. He was a shadow, a cast hiding behind the darkness. No one ever paid attention to the shadow.

“Papa?”

Rogue’s down-casted eyes shifted to the little voice that called up to him – Raina, in her traditional kimono, a spitting image of the woman holding her hand; the other slender hand she offered to him. Rogue took it without hesitation, sheathing her small hands within his much larger ones. The thin line on her worried face broke into a wider grin. It was so contagious that Rogue caught himself also smiling.

“Next family please!”

Familiar with the surroundings, it was Kaname who led the faux family to their spots, arranging them under a decorated arc filled with colorful flowers and lanterns.

“Please stand in the middle.” The person behind the image-taker gestured towards the center, adjusting the figures to fit them into his monitor. “Just a little closer.” His gestures wanted the three to squeeze closer. The distance was translating into his lens and he didn’t mean it in the literal sense. The honey-haired young man scratched the back of his head, unsure how to say there was a lack of warmth he expected from a family. “A little bit closer.” Now, he was feeling uncomfortable as the ‘mom’ and ‘dad’ shot his way a menacing glare.

It was very tempting to just strike down the man with his dragon force. Has he any idea what he was asking of Rogue? Forcing the man to invade Ojuo’s personal space? No one even dared, not even the Guild Master, coming close to the woman. Then, suddenly, his internal one-sided battle was disrupted. He withdrew the menacing glare from the poor guy and glanced at Minerva who was now standing close next to him; so close that their shoulders brushed.

“Let’s not waste any more time.” She wasn’t looking at him but Rogue was sure she was talking to the dragon slayer.

“Y-yes, Ojuo.”

But brushing shoulders wasn’t enough.

“They are so shy.” The middle aged ladies giggled behind Kaname, prompting the caretaker to suggest that Rogue put his arm around his ‘wife’. The man was hesitant but Minerva was surprisingly reassuring that she wasn’t going to cut his arm off. So, freely, albeit nervously, Rogue put his arm around Minerva’s waist.

Then, flash. The white light nearly blinded the dragon slayer.

“Alright! Another one.” Because the kid was the only one smiling in the monitor. “I-if the couple w-wouldn’t mind.” He had to rethink that suggestion as an identical dark, murderous aura enveloped the “couple”.

“Yey! Another!” All thanks to the little ball of sunshine bouncing in excitement, the dark aura and the matching dagger looks quickly dissipated. “Mama and Papa should kiss now?”

“K-kiss?!” Rogue and Minerva had a shared expression on their faces: utter shock on the former; a slight mortification on the latter, to which Rogue took an offense. He wouldn’t dare do it but would it really hurt if Sabertooth’s ace didn’t act like kissing him was the grossest thing she was ever to do? Sure, it wasn’t the best idea but…

“Great idea, Miss Raina!” Kaname clapped her hands together, egging the young miss about her bright – crazy – idea.

“WHAT?!”

“Fro thinks so too!”

“Don’t encourage her, Frosch.” Rogue whisper-yelled at his Exceed.

“Don’t parents usually kiss?” The so called ‘parents’ looked down at the small dictator staring up at them, eyes rounded in that awfully cute pleading look. But both parents knew better. Her evil expression was telling, ‘I got you both falling in my trap.’

So evil!

Rogue wasn’t going to bite. He wasn’t born yesterday. Minerva, on the other hand… she wasn’t the kind of woman who would easily give in to pressure.

“They’re just probably shy around people.” One middle-aged woman suggested, making some excuse on their behalf.

“But they were so bold earlier in the changing room.”

Rogue was forced to recall that shameful, yet oddly titillating, experience in the family dressing room.

“But kissing is natural between married couples.”

The shadow dragon slayer wasn’t actually listening to the murmurs running around that middle-aged circle. He was too busy pushing the memory down the back of his mind to actually care. It had a weird way of raising the temperature and thinning the air around him. And he did not need any of those weird things messing up with his brain – and his innocent body.s

“We must… commit to our roles.”

Rogue hadn’t had the time – or the mental presence – to even decipher that code when suddenly Minerva had her slender fingers gripped at the collar of his own kimono, pulling him by it and crashing her lips against his.

It wasn’t as he expected. Not like he’d ever expected having to kiss Minerva. That thought never crossed his mind. But here he was now, his lips pressing against the woman’s – warm, soft, tender lips. He’d never given it any thought but kissing surprisingly felt really nice. He didn’t know what it was – a really good feeling, a sensation that made his head all fuzzy but also so focused on the woman right in front of him – that pushed him to dare, to step out of his comfort zone and shamelessly moved his lips over hers.

“T-t-that’s enough, Rogue.”

Minerva shoved him away, pulling him back to his senses. It got Rogue apologizing for what he tried to do; a little guilty and ashamed of himself for overstepping. But a part of him, that smallest part that was a bit more freeing, convinced Rogue he shouldn’t be sorry. But that part he’d always push at the back burner.

Rogue honestly didn’t know what came over him but that unexplainable feeling had him seeing things too, like the light blush that powdered Minerva’s cheeks rosy.

06:00 PM

No one spoke between them. They just continued weaving the Festival, led by the ever enthusiastic little dictator as she bounced amongst the crowd, holding a photo in her hands.

“Lady Raina sure looks energetic.”

“Yes.” Both Rogue and Minerva answered in unison, glancing at each other when they realized the sudden synchrony. Strange. Then, both swiftly looked away trying not to get caught. Minerva, however, was quicker to recover as compared to Rogue, who was still fighting the strange feeling warming his cheeks.

As they continue on foot, something caught the little lady’s attention, pulling her to a sudden halt. Her caretaker walked up beside, both palms planted on her knees as she read the announcement for her mistress’ sake.

“Look, Miss Raina, they’re having fireworks later tonight.”

Rogue wasn’t even that older than the young caretaker but she was acting more like the young miss as they both had a shared sparkle in their eyes, not the identical amused stares off the sign.

“Raina wants to see the fireworks!”

“Kaname too!”

“Fro three!”

Minerva, the voice of reason, quickly interrupted. “It’s a little late, Lady Raina. We need to return to your home as Rogue and I need to travel back by train.”

“Actually,” Kaname answered, her heart eyes glued to every word on the announcement, “the last train has left around four p.m.”

“What?!” Minerva’s dark green eyes uncharacteristically widened in shock and the coming trouble. “Why didn’t you inform us earlier?” It quite bothered her more than it should and it was showing. An expression no one would ever put next to the name Minerva – freaking out.

So, while Minerva was dealing with the surge of thoughts overloading her brain, the little devil seized the opportunity to make her move.

“Papa?”

Raina knew exactly how to play this and which parent to flash the expression no adult ever said ‘no’ to.

“Let’s see the fireworks together.”

“S-s-sure.”

07:59 PM

“You shouldn’t let a child dictate you, Rogue. You are the adult.”

Rogue respected the woman, he did. He really respected Minerva. He was somewhat the same as she was – reserved, rational and very sensible. But there were days when he wished that Minerva would loosen up a little. Like today.

“But, Ojuo–”

“–We shouldn’t answer nor tolerate a child’s every whim and capricious. They need discipline.” She continued lecturing the dragon slayer.

To Minerva, it was seizing an opportunity to call out her subordinates and correct their misconducts, well, misconduct in Minerva’s eyes. To the rest who didn’t know them, it was a picture of a wife lecturing her husband how to raise their child. It looked like the mistress was winning.

“If you let them take advantage of you like this, you can never demand from these wolves in sheep’s clothing.” She continued to a half-listening dragon slayer.

The reason for his scolding interrupted, unknowing of the position she put her father in.

“Look! They’re about to start.” She exclaimed, grabbing on the two adults and pulling the startled couple towards the gathering of people. The five of them grouped behind the protective railing and waited for the sparklers to light the evening sky.

“Maybe we should learn from these kids, Ojuo. There’s absolutely nothing wrong about stopping to smell the roses.”

Or in their case, watch some fireworks.

Minerva opened her mouth to shot back at the insolent dragon slayer, who took advantage of the brief silence to shame her. But the sound of the first cracker exploding into the dark sky stunned her briefly, transfixing her on the spot as all she could do was watch the magical shadow of the fireworks dance on the side of Rogue’s face. For a moment and for some unknown reason, Minerva could hear her own heartbeat, feeling the hard thump against her chest. Something else pulled her attention and her eyes magnetically drifted to the figure carried in the dragon slayer’s arms, reaching out to the spectacle in the sky as if she could catch them in her small hands. Catching herself staring and remembering it was rude, Minerva averted her eyes towards the heavens and, along with the rest of the village, watched as magic light up the darkened sky. It was beautiful but that lit-up sky paled next to the warm scene beside her, to that warmth Minerva had always been longing for – her father’s love.

9:00 PM

“It doesn’t make any sense.”

Minerva wasn’t too loud but might be enough to surprise the sleeping little miss, as she spat the words with much condemnation. She was confused and mad about being all confused.

“Ojuo, I think we should keep our voice down.” Rogue tried not to sound too indignant as he slowly and carefully lowered the sleeping figure on the large mattress. He wondered why Lady Minerva has been staring at him since after the fireworks show, twitching her face like she was grappling an internal battle. And losing it. “We do not wish to wake up the princess.” Rogue pulled the cover over Raina’s small figure sprawled on the bed, her chin was sticking out. He didn’t want his daughter to catch a cold.

And with every second that passed watching Rogue take care of the young lady, Minerva was getting pretty annoyed.

“Doesn’t make sense at all.” She obeyed the dragon slayer: less loud, but more confused.

“What does?” Kaname appeared out of nowhere but it didn’t seem to bother the spatial mage whose disbelieving eyes were still trained at the scene playing before her.

“This.” She said, brows meeting in the middle, nodding towards Rogue.

“I don’t see anything unusual about it.” Kaname was standing close to her now, which Minerva seemed to mind. She walked a few steps away from the helper, who had that a crazy smile on her face and an even crazier glint in her eyes.

“You and Mr. Rogue would have to share a room, Ms. Minerva.”

“What?!”

Rogue slapped his own mouth for reacting too loud. Good thing his daughter… good thing the kid was so wiped out that she only stirred to the side and resumed snoring like a drill.

“W-w-what do you mean… share a room? An unmarried man and woman i-is not allowed to share t-t-the same bed!”

His eyes darted back and forth from the woman who shamelessly suggested – pushed – the ridiculous notion and the lady who appeared to welcome it. Wait, what? Lady Minerva wasn’t opposed to…

“Let’s not overstay our welcome, Rogue.” She said, and stopped at the door frame without looking back. “Point us to the room, Kaname.”

And that little incident in the changing room flashed back Rogue’s very eyes.

Rogue? Sleeping with Lady Minerva? Even his heart couldn’t keep up with the idea. Then, he remembered the softness of her lips and Rogue’s heart had a whole new reason to marathon.

“Let’s go, Rogue.”

“Y-y-yes... Ojuo.”

“Are you running out of breath?”

---

7:00 AM

Rogue rubbed the backside of his shoulders. Maybe it was a bad idea refusing Lady Minerva’s offer to just sleep on the bed next to her. In his defense, it wasn’t right to share a mattress with a maiden and he was regretting it now. Sometimes, he wished he was just as clueless and shameless as Sting and sometimes, he wished Lady Minerva would get some clue. Did she just offer to sleep with anyone? Well, not ‘sleep with’ in the common context… was she okay kissing anyone, too? All this thinking about Lady Minerva was driving him off the wall. It shouldn’t. As a matter of fact, he shouldn’t be thinking about Lady Minerva, at all.

But how could he not when she boldly pulled him against her and claimed his first kiss? No! He shouldn’t be thinking about the kiss. Lady Minerva had probably kissed a lot of men.

“You seem dissatisfied with me, Rogue.”

Rogue shuddered at the voice. He only realized now that he was glaring at the woman sitting opposite him in the train.

“I-I’m sorry, Ojuo. I didn’t mean to... stare.” He wasn’t going to admit he looked ready to strangle the woman thinking she had kissed a hundred men. “Please excuse me, Ojuo. I need to use the washroom.” Rogue slid out from his booth, carefully lifting and moving his Exceed peacefully sleeping on his lap. Oh, how he wished he could get the same peace.

7:10 AM

Minerva watched him leave until he disappeared behind the door to the public toilet. She wasn’t quite sure why he looked mad at her. Yesterday, she wouldn’t even care. But now, every little thing Rogue did, she took notice. And every slightest thing about him bothered her.

“It doesn’t make sense.” The Lady barked, ladnding a fist on the leather she sat on, getting so mad not understanding herself, and waking up poor Frosch.

“Lady Minerva?” he sleepily asked, rubbing both eyes with his little fists.

“I apologize, Frosch.”

She was only answered by two confused half-closing eyes and little ‘hmmm’ before Frosch returned to snoring again.

Minerva couldn’t help chuckle. She always found Frosch cute. Actually, it wasn’t only Frosch that she thought was cute and that was the notion she’d been grappling with ever since… ever since… since when?! Since when had she been thinking that no non-sense shadow dragon was cute?

Minerva refused to answer that. Then, she decided she needed to splash her face with water; that ought to clear her mind. She slid out of her train couch, careful not to wake up Frosch, and headed to the toilet. Rogue was done using it, just stepping out of the door. He shifted on the side to make room for Minerva.

“Thank you, Rogue.”

Rogue nodded in response but unlike how he’d usually act around the Lady, he bravely met her forest eyes. That same feeling hit him again, one that got his mind hazy but focused at the same time, the one that pushed Rogue to dare. He stopped the sliding door with his bare hand, getting squeezed between the edge and the frame.

“Ojou…”

“What are you–mmm”

The dragon slayer pushed Minerva into the washroom, slammed the sliding door behind him and captured the rest of her words in his mouth. She wanted to push him and tell him off but her body refused to listen. All reasons abandoned, Minerva’s slender fingers grasped on his coat, clutching the garment in her fists and pushing herself up against him, wanting Rogue’s presence all around her.

“Ojuo…” He moaned against her lips, making Minerva cling to him desperately. “Ojuo…”

“Ojuo!”

The concern in Rogue’s voice quickly dragged Minerva out of her reverie. She wasn’t in the train’s washroom anymore. She wasn’t clinging to the dragon slayer. Minerva was now back at her own couch and stared into the eyes of a confused and worried Shadow Dragon Slayer.

“Your knuckles are turning white, Ojuo. Are you alright?”

The spatial mage looked down at her fist resting on the leather, drained of color. She released her fingers immediately, realizing that she was already hurting herself.

“Yes.” She only spared Rogue a glance, masking her embarrassment with her usual indifference, then, turned away from him completely to do something more safe than fantasizing about the unwitting dragon slayer. Minerva propped her hand under her chin and watch the green pasture pass by the train window. She internally thanked the dragon slayer for not prying into the real reason because the spatial mage herself could not offer the man an answer.

Because even to Minerva, “it doesn’t make sense,” what she was starting to feel towards Rogue Cheney.

---

Bonus Chapter 6.5:

Minerva was just looking at the request board, deciding which S-Class job to take next, a mission her and Yukino could work on together. She needed sometime to be away from the other half of Sabertooth’s Twin Dragons – the shadow half. She hadn’t come to terms about this strong feeling she started to harbor ever since that one job she did with Rogue.

“Minerva-sama?”

“A moment, Yukino. I haven’t decided on the request yet.” She answered without even looking at the owner of the voice.

“You have a visitor.”

Curiosity made her pull away from staring at the request board and towards Sabertooth’s resident Celestial Mage.

“Visitor?”

“Mama!”

The child appeared from behind the Celestial Mage, raced towards Minerva and threw her arms around her legs, her height only reaching the Spatial Mage’s belly.

“Did you grow taller?” She asked, patting the top of Raina’s head, who looked up at her, stretching her mouth into that bright smile Minerva really missed. “Only this much!” Raina answered animatedly, flatting her palm on top of her head to say, “I’ve only grown this much!”

Minerva chuckled. She acknowledged Kaname’s presence and returned to her conversation with Raina, telling her that she had learned spatial magic too, just like Minerva’s. She had that radiant smile, all the while, telling Raina she’d train her if she liked. Her unprecedented warmth towards the child confused the hell out of her guild-mates who were just standing by the side, watching the scene unfold, wrapping their little heads around the idea that some little kid – who had the same dango buns as Lady Minerva – just called Sabertooth’s Ace mama.

“Oh my!” Yukino grew red realizing that Minerva-sama had been intimate with a man and conceived a child they all didn’t know. Being the only one brave enough to dare, the Celestial Mage asked the question everyone had in mind. “M-m-minerva-sama… who… w-who is the f-father?”

“Raina?” Came the voice from behind the flustered Sabertooth mage.

“Papa!” She abandoned her mother and ran into the open arms of the Shadow Dragon Slayer. He picked her up and carried the little miss, asking, “How have you been, Princess?”

“Elexent! (Excellent!)” She beamed at him, her plum orbs disappearing.

And the rest of Sabertooth witnessed, for the very first time, how Rogue Cheney radiated with a brightness that rivaled Sting’s White Dragon Slayer Magic. After recovering from the brief shock, Yukino and the rest of Team Sabertooth demanded some answers, throwing the family questions like…

“What the hell is this commotion about?” Sabertooth’s Guild Master appeared annoyed, probably just coming out from filing all the paper works when he heard the noise. “Whose kid is that?” He asked the Dragon Slayer carrying the child.

And almost choked on his own saliva when the little kid introduced herself.

“I’m Raina and they are my parents, Papa Rogue and Mama Minerva.”

“P-papa Rogue a-a-and O-ojuo’s daughter?”

Sting Eucliffe turned white and not because of his White Dragon Slayer magic. A lot of question were probably running in his head, disbelieving his own ears when the kid claimed Sabertooth’s Ace and his own partner as his parents.

“Yup!”

But worse of all, how come Rogue never told him he was harboring a secret child with Lady Minerva?!

“In that case, hi. I’m Uncle Sting.” He extended his hand to shake Raina’s little one and showed her a toothy grin that mirrored Rogue’s secret child.

“Hello, Uncle Sting!”

Rogue would have a lot of time to explain later and he better start with how, when and where did that affair started and how come he never told him. For now, he’d like to welcome this little princess into his family.

tags: @ftguildevents @fairytail-rarepairs

#rogue x minerva #roguerva #rogue cheney #minerva orland #sabertooth #faux family

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potterwatch-transcripts · 5 years ago

Text

FIRST BROADCAST: 17th NOVEMBER 1998.

Lee Jordan: Greetings Potterfans, River here, and welcome to another action packed episode of Potterwatch. Today, with me as always, is my cohost and partner in crime, Rapier.

George Weasley: A pleasure to be back River. I would just like to make it clear, no crimes were commuted in the creation of this show. Any that we did commit were purely accidental.

Lee: Except setting a murderous House Elf on Rita Skeeter, that was intentional.

George: And we were acquitted by the wizengamot due to lack of evidence. That and the minister of magic said, and I quote ‘we still have Death Eaters to catch, I literally could not care less’.

Lee: Indeed, vote Shacklebolt for minister.

George: Shacklebolt 2001. Make the ministry mirthful again.

Lee: Now Rapier, what has been happening in the world since last we took to the airwaves like a Harry Potter obsessesed Hippogriff?

George: Well River, funny you should mention Harry Potter obsessed Hippogriffs. It turns out that world famous boy wizard Harry ‘Oblivious to women’s emotions’ Potter has been harbouring a fugitive.

Lee: Gosh Rapier, really?

George: That’s right River. Legendary former toddler H. J. Potter esquire has been harbouring the noted hippogriff and convicted felon ‘Buckbeak’. Buckbeak was sentenced to death several years ago for allegedly mortally wounding Draco ‘My father will hear about this’ Malfoy. Additionally, Buckbeak aided in the escape of famed criminal and good boy, Sirius Black.

Lee: But was mr Black not posthumously cleared of all charges?

George: Correct River. However, at the time this feathered felon was still aiding in a criminals escape, and should be brought to justice.

Lee: Are you suggesting we campaign to send Buckbeak to Azkaban.

George: Not only am I suggesting jail for this clawed criminal, but I also suggest Harry Potter should be imprisoned for upwards of 50 years for harbouring a known fugitive.

Lee: I support this Rapier. Justice must be done.

George: In other news, popular magazine the Quibbler has relaunched after nearly two years of being out of print. Those of you listening to the show during the reign of Ol’ Lord no nose will remember the Quibbler’s office was destroyed in what some have described as ‘A classic Potter’

Lee: We can exclusively reveal that myself and Rapier, as well as Harry Potter, Kreacher T. Elf, Horace Slughorn and Ronald ‘What were you thinking in your 6th Year’ Weasley will be just some of the guest writers.

George: My article is called ‘Minerva McGonnagal, Kitten or Kangaroo’. I seek to prove that the hogwarts headmistress is not in fact a proud Scot, but actually a 25yr Australian Enchantress called Stephanie Irwin.

Lee: Meanwhile, my article will seek to look into claims that Harry Potter is none other 3 Goblins in a surprisingly realistic person costume.

George: look out for other articles from us coming soon. And finally, after much debate, a new platform will be opening at Kings Cross Station. Platform 7 5/12 will be a direct line from London to Godric’s hollow, providing fans of the chosen one the chance to visit the ‘Harry Potter’ experience, sponsored by Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes.

Lee: I am very excited for this new Museum/Interprative Dance Show, opening in March 1999.

George: Fun fact for our fans River, if you slap a red wig in a house Elf, spitting image of Potter’s beloved sidekick Rob Weasley.

Lee: and now we turn to the interview portion of our show. Please join me fans, in giving a very warm welcome to ‘Rival’

Viktor Krum: Is pleasure to being here my friends.

Lee: Now Rival, you know Harry Potter fairly well, what’s he like?

Krum: Well River, Harry Potter is good man. I like him very a lot. However, he is not too bright.

George: oh really?

Krum: oh yes. I get to know him during the Triwizard tournament, and I come to conclusion that without Hermione Grainger, who is amazing witch, Potter would have been died two weeks into his first year in Hogwarts.

Lee: You’re not the first to say this Rival. So you like Potter, but think he’s a bit thick.

Krum: Yes I am liking Harry but am thinking he actually only knowing 2 spells. The Dementor Spell, in Bulgaria we call it the great protector. And Expelliarmus. I was at battle of Hogwarts and when I see him try to disarm the dark lord I am thinking ‘oh well, nice to know you Potter’ and am ready to try to kill Mister Voldemort myself.

George: Do you think you could have defeated the Dark Lord?

Krum: Oh yes, in my home country we knowing how to deal with Dark Wizards and beasts. I defeat my first Vampire age 9 with nothing but a firebreath potion and sharp stick. I sharpen stick myself.

Lee: How did you sharpen the stick Rival?

Krum: With another sharpened stick.

George: Amazing. You heard it hear first folks, Rival is probably the coolest dude I’ve ever met. And I routinely was punished by Minerva McGonnagal.

Krum: Your Madam McGonnagal is great woman. She remind me of the Lamya. Is a great Bulgarian dragon lady of much power.

Lee: Awesome. And finally Rival, how do you fancy your home nations chances in the Quidditch World Cup.

Krum: I am hoping we do very well. Is a good team, maybe better than team we have last World Cup.

Lee: Thank you Rival. That is all we have time for tonight. I have been River.

George: And I have been Rapier.

Lee: The next password will be ‘Buckbeak’. Stay tuned Potterfans, and remember, Harry Potter killed an evil wizard at 1 year old, with a full nappy, so there’s hope for us all.

#potterwatch #harry potter #headcanon #potterwatchtranscripts #lee jordan #george weasley #viktor krum #horace slughorn #kreacher #minerva mcgonagall #hogwarts #durmstrang #the quibbler #buckbeak #kinglsey shacklebolt

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imagi77 · 4 years ago

Text

Poison Part III ~ Finale

Professor Dolores Jane Umbridge was preparing herself for yet another detention. The fourth one it would happen to be on this given day.

“Now that you realize the error of your ways, Rebecca Slone, I want you to write ‘I must not tell lies’.” she spoke in such a light, mockingly sweet tone as she dumped another teaspoon full of sugar into her overly sweetened tea.

“But, Professor! I-I wasn’t lying! I - … I had to rest from last week’s full moon… Professor Prince said that I —“

“Is Professor Orpheus Prince the one who gave you this detention, Miss Slone?”

“N-No, but he —“

“No, he did not. So, with that spoken, it is very clear that you are only looking for a sob story to get out of serving your detentions. Now, please… do continue?”

It was only in the quiet of the overly pink room when all hell appeared to break lose. From one blinking moment to the next, the thick door to her office swung open with such power that it startled the both of them. Rebecca flinched and shut her eyes tight when Dolores was met with a glare so cold that it could freeze blood.

“Professor Prince! Oh what a pleasure it is to see you… What brings you-“

Before she could even utter another poisonous word, the Potion’s Master swept forward with eyes as black as burning coals, sweeping his wand out in a flash. In his own natural way, he had cornered the lying woman, nearside the fireplace, away from the Ravenclaw and the stern Gryffindor.

“If you ever come unleash that kind of torment upon our students again I will see to it that every inch of poison will be squeezed out of you, Understand?”

“The audacity! You step away from me, you great lummax! Or else you will never step a foot into this castle ever again —“

“Oh, you feel the need to scream out like the cornered rat you are, that’s plucky. I have failed to recall that physical mutilation was among our usual protocols to teach students the means of obeying their House parents . . . out of divine respect rather than fear.”

Her beady eyes seemed to pop right out of her head. Lyra peered into the room, trying to be descrete. But sighting Slone, she ushered the stressed student to come and hide with her. The poor girl saw the opportunity and grabbed her things in a rush and ran out, feeling more out of breath than usual. That was then when the Black Quill fell off the writing desk onto the floor by Prince’s shoe. A flame seemed to ignite in his eye upon seeing it.

“Allow me to shed some light on the situation… Dolores. As Deputy, with Minerva McGonagall by my side, we are advocates of this school, supervising the likes of you. You may have Cornelius’s favor but you are merely a teacher for hire which does not give you the right to unleash corporal punishment upon OUR students at leisure! That decision lies on the Headmaster himself. This Dark object you smuggled in here will be taken for investigation and will, in turn, have all leads to you as proof that you have physically assaulted students.”

“I have full authority to go about punishments as I wish, Orpheus! I am sure Dumbledore will eventually see it my way and will have you sacked by the time the day is out.”

“Go on then,” Prince’s lip curled, dangerously. With that, he eased back slightly, but he still had the witch cornered. “I can care less about a bloody job when you have gone out of your way to scar my daughter— and you were about to do the same to Miss Slone, a Ravenclaw student under my supervision due to her underlying case of lycanthropy. Lyra Prince only shared a personal opinion, a truthful one. Rebecca Slone was given written permission by me and Madame Pomfrey that she was given a week long of leeway for her to recover from a week of the full moon. Her family has requested intense care during these waves. Assaulting a minor without cause of provocation can land you straight in Azkaban, no matter what rank you have earned in the Ministry. I am certain of it that the entire faculty will gladly oblige in claiming against you for every last Galleon. I will do what I can to ensure that you will never be hired again, by any business, let alone the Ministry. Cornelius can care less about you. Or anyone. Believe me on that fact, madame.”

The woman looked so shaken and beet red that it would almost seem like she would burst into dust as those iron cold eyes seared into her beady blue ones.

“Now, either you come quietly to have audience with the Headmaster on this matter, or shall I knock you out of your senses to get you there? Your choice.”

“Orpheus Prince, you have dishonored not only me, but yourself, believing that you have any power over me. These students must be disciplined harshly, given you are too —“

“Are you a Goddess? A Saint? Some sort of entity that deserves eternal worship?” Prince mocked, not giving any cares for what to had to say. “You can spit about dishonor and discipline all you wish, but that still does not give you any power over the students we all have been trusted to look after. Maiming them was never written in the guidelines! You injured my ward and first years and that crosses the line. No one brings harm to any of them, on my watch.”

Lyra had a sense that something was going to be unleashed in that office and took poor Slone with her to hide.

“Are you all right, Becky??”

“A little flustered, but I think so!” the young werewolf answered back, still tired.

“Don’t worry… Prince has the Toad cornered… Looks like it’s about to get messy, so we better get out of here…”

“Too right… You sure, he might need help!”

“Hm, I think he has it settled…” the ginger hinted a confident smile.

Meanwhile, it seemed that Umbridge was not having it at all and dared to brandish her wand at the passionate Prince, which proved to be a fatal mistake on her part. He heard her utter an Unforgivable which he knew was something his charmed ring would have caught as he prepared his wand. A red flash shot out towards his chest — With a single swing, he struck against it, having it blast a vase into shards, having them shrewn all about the office. The nightly commotion alerted the elves and the Portraits… In a minute’s time, McGonagall and Dumbledore were well on their way to the DADA classroom.

At first, Prince was horrified at the fact that she intended to use the Torture Curse on him, which proved further that she only had a thirst for blood… Sweeping the Quill onto his person, he only defended himself before he earned a chance to petrify her! In a mere blink, Umbridge froze up and fell to the floor, as flat as a board.

Seeing what he had done, Prince needed to draw a breath for a moment just as Minerva came in and so did Dumbledore.

“My boy, we had come just in time…” the Elder uttered, in his own horror.

“… she has been inflicting corporal punishment without permission or cause…” Prince began, soon giving Albus the Black Quill. “… right under our noses, I’m afraid.”

With that, they all saw terribly enraged eyes lock on the three of them from the frozen pink monster on the stone floor.

“Besides the fact that she intended to Curse me…” he ended it right there, coldly as McGonagall came and picked up Umbridge’s wand.

“Thank Merlin for your courage and safety, Professor Prince.” McGonagall stated as Prince worriedly looked to the door to see if the girls were still present.

“. . . Lyra?”

“W-we’re here, sir…” she thankfully answered back.

“Come to us, dears. Come to us… It’s all right now…” Dumbledore sadly called to them.

Lyra and Slone entered the office, indeed, shaken but they were greeted by motherly hands by McGonagall who saw the horror written on top of both of their hands. She shuddered at the sight. Albus only needed one glance before his own demeanor turned cold…

“Oh, my dears… Come, both of you, to the Hospital Wing. With me… We will take care of this. That monster will never touch another student again.”

“Keep them there for one night. As precaution, and meanwhile Prince and I will handle the rest of this… Be sure to contact our students, should there be others who had to suffer the same…”

Lyra had to take her Guardian’s hand, giving it a squeeze before she had to go with Slone. Soon it was Dumbledore who now looked down at the frozen witch.

“You have subdued her,”

“I had no choice. Given all that I have stated, the pensieve would show that she had no reason for retaliation…” Prince mentioned.

“The question being… is how long has this been happening? This year had only begun…”

“Lyra had been trying to hide it at first but it caught my eye eventually… Right then, I knew something was awry. I had to come and see for myself. She hurt her… our students…”

“A brave choice it was, dear boy… She tried to have us all fooled. And failed. Come, lad, we have much to do, and this will pay off, I am sure.” Dumbledore smirked before he himself levitated Umbridge as a means to take her to his office. At that moment, she tried to shriek but her mouth was unmovable and pasted.

Prince was the last to leave… and he gave the ruined office a scan. His face curved with disgust before slamming the door shut, leaving the air filled with awkward mews and purrs from the enchanted kitten plates plastered all over the walls…

#The Black Knight #Prose #Writing #severus snape #dolores umbridge #Ideas #Pro Snape #Albus calls him lad and Sevs all right with it XD

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noxilicious-ish · 7 years ago

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RECALIBRATION (CH. 5)

Haven’t updated this in longer than I could admit and come out of it with my pride intact.

Btw, if anyone’s interested: I’ll put up an ask or something for doodle/ headcanon requests or questions related to my Harry Holmes project. Check it out later!

Previous chapter: http://noxilicious-ish.tumblr.com/post/154338266696/recalibration-ch-4

Rating: Teen

Pairings: Past Sherlock/Lily, canon pairings

Word count: 2,879

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my pitiful, depraved mind. Please don’t sue me.

CHAPTER FIVE – IN WHICH PROFESSOR MCGONAGALL SAVES THE DAY

Scrutinising turquoise eyes locked unblinkingly onto ever-changing blue-green-gray? ones. All the while, larger and far more inexperienced emerald eyes than either of the other pairs were watching each in part alternatingly, worriedly, much like following a tennis match. Harry was witness to a Mexican standoff the conclusion of which he was uncertain of – and indeed, one he dreaded.

“It’s Professor, actually,” Minerva broke the ice, sipping her tea calmly.

“Professor McGonagall, then,” Sherlock acknowledged with a nod. “Professor of… Transfiguration, I believe? The art of changing the form and appearance of an animate or inanimate object.”

It was all Minerva could do to keep her rather beautifully-shaped teacup safely within her fingers’ clutch. Her eyes widened minutely, although she managed to recompose herself. Her lips remained in a tight, unnerved line.

“You are correct, Mr Holmes, however much that may seem like an impossibility. May I ask how you came upon such knowledge, seeing as you are most obviously not Magic, nor are you a Squib?” she inquired slowly. Mr Potter could have told the strange man about his… special boarding school, but the Ministry was supervising what was imparted by witches and wizards upon Muggles very carefully. And the man’s custody of the child was unofficial and dubious at best.

Sherlock smiled distantly. “During our… acquaintance, Lily bestowed me with her absolute trust, and revealed much of her education and overall childhood, as well as the fundamentals of Wizarding society. She was exceedingly impressive in her skill of avoiding certain trigger terms that might alert the Ministry.”

Harry perked up at the mention of his famous mother, while Minerva paled. Lily had broken the Statute of Secrecy… for a Muggle? She had been a very intelligent girl for all the years the old teacher had known her, so she was undoubtedly aware of all the consequences of such a felony. To have nonetheless committed it for someone’s sake…

The detective scanned her for a few seconds, his smile falling to reveal serious determination. He placed his cup in its saucer, then on the table near his armchair. “Professor McGonagall,” he started, interlacing his pale, bony digits. “You have obviously come here out of concern for you pupil’s safety and wellbeing. You may rest assured that he is in good hands, or at least much better than he used to be.”

The last he muttered angrily and Minerva found herself agreeing. However…

“That is not all you wish to inform me of,” she stated rather than asked.

“No,” Sherlock acquiesced. “Being a Muggle, there is little influence I can manage in the Wizarding society at the moment. I am in need of your help in a particular matter, seeing as you are the most equipped to handle it.”

She raised both eyebrows at this. What a strange fellow. “Indeed? And what is this matter you speak of?”

“I am afraid Albus Dumbledore has committed a grave mistake. You are the only one who can convince him of this, being one of his most trusted allies.”

“And why would I believe you, if that is the case? You seem aware of the fact that Albus’ word holds considerable weight with me.”

At this, he looked her dead in the eye. “Because I am Harry’s biological father.”

Then he stood statue-still, his posture expressing no-nonsense as he awaited her reply. Truly, Sherlock was more than a little nervous about this whole affair. Harry’s happiness and health was at stake whether this stern aging lady chose to aid him or not, and he was definitely not playing around with those. He loved games, but not when they involved his prodigal son.

What a laugh John would have to hear him even think that there could ever be a time he would not simply adore a little game of wills.

Harry shifted almost imperceptibly, trying his best not to break the thick silence that had fallen over the three of them. This was an adults’ exchange, and he was both glad and overwhelmed that he was allowed to spectate. He was also – though he’d never, ever say it within the Professor’s hearing range – a little amused to see said woman for the first time in his life shocked into speechlessness. She was more humane than most authoritarian teachers, but still strict enough to intimidate.

Meanwhile, Minerva was gaping. If the previous unexpected comment had startled her, this was more than enough to stun even her. And yet, she could not entirely deny the fact that what her conscious was desperate to object to, her subconscious was increasingly resigned about.

“How…” she managed to stutter out eventually. “When…”

The other adult mercifully waited for her to regain her bearings. “Are you certain of this?” she finally asked firmly.

She was met with a sardonic smile. “I have valid reasons to believe it is more than possible.”

Minerva conceded with an odd grimace. Harry blushed scarlet and fought valiantly not to fidget. No sane teenager, regardless of the tangled history of their parents and not-parents and any curiosity relating to it, could ever be comfortable with a discussion of their own conception.

“But James…” the Professor muttered, frowning in turmoil. “Why would Lily ever do such a thing? How could she?”

The detective was quiet for a few long moments, staring into the distance. “It was before she married him. I do not know…” he abruptly trailed off, greatly troubled by some long-past memory.

The old Scotswoman studied his absent expression, then she sighed and looked at Harry. “I suppose the resemblance is uncanny,” she joked softly.

Sobering, she continued, “If what you say is true, Mr Holmes, and it does seem so, then you have yet to tell me what the Headmaster’s fault is in this.”

The moment Sherlock’s eyes flicked back to hers, a horrible feeling had already settled in Minerva’s heart. “Though Lily did return to James, in the event of both their deaths, do you not wonder whether she would have rather wrote down the name of the actual father of her child, instead of that of her dreaded sister’s as said child’s caretaker?”

The Transfiguration Professor shook. “Albus… claimed that all of Harry’s potential guardians were either deceased or imprisoned. There was simply no one but… them.”

Sherlock’s fingers clenched tightly over the armrests and he leaned over slightly. “And if that were true, would there not still be his birth certificate to prove the existence of another potential guardian?” he argued tightly, spitting out the last words with unmistakable biterness. “I am not exactly parent material, but anyone would have sufficed, ANYONE but that biped swine and his equally primitive wife.”

He sat back slowly, reigning in his fury after that slight slip-up. As he watched the teacher raise a shaking hand to her mouth, he knew she was remembering Harry’s living conditions for the past twelve years. Given her ability to shapeshift, she was most likely the one tasked with keeping an eye on the child now and then, and must have borne witness to what was taking place in that abominable household.

“Lily’s Last Will and Testament is missing from the Ministry’s public records,” he concluded.

Minerva frowned, trying her best to think logically despite the amalgam of emotions. “Once a deceased witch’s or wizard’s Will has been read, it is magically written into the records. This applies to any and all testaments, and is not undoable.”

Sherlock looked at her pointedly. “Who was the known executor of Lily’s Will?”

Her eyes shot back to his and her features tightened.

…

Ever since finding out about magic, Harry’s life has been in a constant tornado of events, positive as well as less than positive. While he would never regret that moment on his eleventh birthday when Hagrid stomped on that isolated little hut’s door, there have been times when he had needed a breather, the confusion of endless adventures having overwhelmed him to nearly his breaking point.

During his two years at Hogwarts, he had found that refuge in his two best friends’ unwavering loyalty even in the face of certain danger. Still, even a precocious trouble-magnet like himself found himself occasionally seeking the steady wisdom of an adult.

He had never imagined that visiting Headmaster Albus Dumbledore’s office would ever create anything but a feeling of safety and respectful wariness.

Witnessing the elderly wizard’s calm, expectant visage the moment they entered the office was what dropped the burden of crushing disappointment and betrayal onto his shoulders.

Mr Holmes’ perceptive eyes flickered over to him, before he felt the slightest brush of an uncertain hand over his shoulder. If Harry had not been so troubled, he would’ve gave the man a weak, but nonetheless grateful smile for his efforts.

“Minerva,” Dumbledore nodded to his long-time friend and fellow colleague, who merely thinned her lips back. The Headmaster looked at Harry next. “Mr Potter.”

Harry did not answer. He rather chose slight disrespect over opening his mouth and blurting whatever crossed his mind in a fit of rage and desperation.

“Mr Sherlock Holmes. It is a pleasure to finally meet you.” Said detective’s expression remained blank, though his manner spoke the world about his impression of the wizard. “Mr Dumbledore,” he returned. “I wish I could say the same, but the circumstances dictate otherwise.”

Dumbledore made a movement with his wand, conjuring three comfy-looking armchairs and gestured towards them in invitation. Once everyone was seated, the old wizard turned to gaze out the window.

“You know why we’re here today,” the Muggle stated, unsurprised.

“You are here because twelve years ago I made a choice for the greater good, regardless of my own wishes,” was the answer he received.

“Greater good…?” Minerva parroted incredulously, her tone rising with each syllable. “For whom, precisely? In all the years I have known you, Albus, I swear…”

The wizard turned to face her, his expression resigned, knowing he deserved her ire, but adamantly in support of his motivation despite it. “No boy should have to live their entire life in the center of attention, not when such a tragedy is the foundation of his fame. Living far away from the magical world for so long was the best option.”

“And you couldn’t have trusted me to shield my own damn son from your bloody magical population? You honestly thought it was better to leave him with a bunch of savages that locked him up in a bloody cupboard? For ten years, you just watched and let them do their number while he cleaned, cooked, scrubbed, while he was being yelled at and pushed around, while he was belittled and treated as less-than-human, through all of that, you did nothing! You rant and rave about how undercivilised and dull Muggles are,” and he spat out the word mockingly, “and then you just throw one of your own into the lion’s den. And you’re still better.”

Harry stared with wide eyes at the detective all throughout his tirade, not expecting the sudden avalanche of words at all, and certainly not at this intensity, even though it was called for. The rant resumed a lot of Harry’s own frustrations over the years and he was a bit glad there was someone brave – or stupid – enough to point them out so bluntly to a form of authority that could have taken measures and didn’t.

Mr Holmes stared angrily at the old wizard, anxious to hear what the man had to say in his defense in the face of this.

“Can you truly claim that you would have been a good caretaker for Harry at the time, twelve years ago?”

You could’ve heard a pin drop in the suffocating silence that followed Dumbledore’s solemn question. If the detective had been angry before, now he was positively boiling, his bright eyes now icy cold with fury and loathing, but also a conflicted, unreadable emotion.

“That justifies nothing. I deserved to know!” he growled through clenched teeth, obviously as an attempt not to roar and scream and rage at the man.

With that, Mr Holmes leaned back in his seat from his near perch on the edge of the chair, though he remained tense, spine ramrod straight, limbs coiled like springs. Harry stared at his hands, unnerved by the showdown but occasionally sneaking glances at everyone in turn, to try and anticipate whatever their next movement would be. For now, though they had come to a standstill.

Professor McGonagall was surreptitiously watching the detective, most likely looking out in case he suddenly jumped out of his seat and throttled the old wizard, though by her crisp, angry and disillusioned visage, she was more than a little tempted to do it herself.

The one to break the pattern was the Headmaster, as usual, when he rose from his seat slowly, for the first time in Harry’s life actually showing the consequences of his old age. He disappeared from their view for a few seconds, then returned with a few yellowed papers in his hand.

“When James and Lily Potter were declared officially deceased and their wills were read, I ensured that most of Lily’s will would be followed to the letter, except for a few select points.”

What was most likely the will, he spread out over his desk. It was obvious that should any of those present be unsatisfied with his credibility, he was willing to read out the entire will for their sake. But after the whole circus, none of them were up for a formal ceremony at this point.

“ ‘To William Sherlock Scott Holmes, I leave a letter to be handed by my Executor.’ ”

Dumbledore handed an envelope to the detective, who accepted it after a brief moment’s hesitation. The man held it gingerly, almost reverently, but seemed firm to suppress the instinct to open it at once, instead opting to see the rest of their meeting carried out.

“ ‘To my son, Harold William Holmes-Evans, I leave the residue of my estate, including a letter to be handed by my Executor upon his eleventh birthday.’ ”

The other envelope was given to Harry. “As James had already left most of his estate to you as well, I had Lily’s savings deposited into the same vault as his,” the old wizard explained carefully, before returning to the last point to be mentioned:

“ ‘I appoint William Sherlock Scott Holmes, the biological father of Harold William Holmes-Evans, to be the guardian of my son until he reaches 18 years of age.’ ”

He concluded by rolling the manuscript closed, and sliding another piece of paper over the desk towards his guests.

On it, written in old, faded but mostly well-preserved ink, the letters spelled out clearly: BIRTH CERTIFICATE.

Harry stared dazedly as he read what was apparently his real name. Harold William Holmes-Evans. And wasn’t that a mouthful.

Well, at least Mr Holmes won’t be complaining about Harry’s name anymore.

Oh yeah, Mr Holmes’ name was there too.

“Your first name’s William?” Harry blurted.

The man pinned him with a deeply unimpressed look. That was the most relevant line of inquiry on his mind to him? “Unless you’d like me to call you Will Junior…” the words even left a sour taste in his mouth, they were so idiotic.

“I’m good,” the boy interrupted hurriedly. If Harold was too serious, he had absolutely nothing in common with the name William.

He supposed he’d learn to live with it, considering his mother had chosen his name.

Also, his real name was as sentimental as his fake one, apparently.

Most of all, now I know for sure that he’s my father and legal guardian, Harry thought, feeling more than a little relieved and excited by the prospect.

See you never, Dursleys!

Harry’s train of thought was interrupted by sudden movement from the corner of his eye, as Mr Holmes stood to pick up the birth certificate. Professor McGonagall was standing as well, by now.

The detective and the old wizard were now having some sort of silent exchange.

“Was it worth it?”

Both of them turned to look at Harry in slight surprise. “The choice you made… was it worth it?” he clarified tentatively.

Dumbledore’s usually twinkling eyes had lost most of their brightness and they actually looked sad as he answered, “I don’t know.”

Harry bit his lip. Albus Dumbledore was a good man. He’d always felt that in his gut, even though the old wizard tended to be more than a little vague. Looking at it objectively, one might suppose that the Headmaster was in a position to take the hard decisions no one else could, for the sake of the wizarding world or whatever.

The boy supposed one day he’d be able to forgive that, not just acknowledge it.

For now, though, he desperately wanted to go home and maybe cry about it for a bit – not that he’d ever admit it aloud. He had his pride, after all. He grabbed Mr Holmes lightly by the sleeve, trying to convey this silently.

The man clearly got the message, because he nodded meaningfully towards the Transfiguration professor, who turned to lead them back out of the office. They left without another word to the Headmaster.

To be continued…

So that’s it for now. I’m not even gonna promise anything anymore, hopefully I’ll be writing and updating sometime soon, but considering I have my Cambridge examination sometime soon...

Again, if you want to see more Harry and Daddy Holmes fluff or have any requests related to them, check out my blog and click the request button there.

See you next time!

#parentlock #harry holmes #sherlock #harry potter #recalibration #crossover #fanfiction

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renaroo · 8 years ago

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Recovery None (52/61)

Disclaimer: Red vs Blue and related characters are the property of Rooster Teeth. Warnings: Language, Canon-typically violence, Psychological torture & manipulation, Mentions of gore, Character death, Minor Sexual content Pairings: Yorkalina, Chex Rating: T Synopsis: [Canon Divergence AU] When the Mother of Invention crashed, Project Freelancer was in shambles, its surviving agents scattered, its equipment stolen, and an impending investigation into the crash from the UNSC was on the horizon. To regain control of the deeply corrupted program, the Director established a new unit from his remaining supplies – the Recovery Unit.

Three former Freelancers were chosen for particular tasks: Zero is to hunt down and destroy the Meta, One is to investigate and recover stolen or missing equipment, and Two is to take down AWOL former agents.

Of course, no one’s motivations are what they seem…

A/N: EVERYTHING’S COMING TOGETHER. almost. Sort of. You’ll see what I mean : )

Special thanks to @secretlystephaniebrown, @icefrozenover, @washingtonstub, @freshzombiewriter, @scribbleboxfox, @notatroll7, DuchessPoint, Yin, @every-survival, and Minerva for the feedback!

Recovery Zero XVI: Within Reach

She found herself asking, more than once, why were they doing this. And while normally that would have been a rhetorical and even hysterical question to ask, Carolina was still getting accustomed to the idea that her mind -- and thus, those answers, were no longer simply her own.

“I thought it was pretty clear why we were doing this,” Epsilon spoke up, looking at her from over her shoulder.

“Covert, Epsilon. We’re doing covert surveillance,” Carolina reminded him in a snappish whisper.

She shifted from her squatted position -- still far behind the compound and in the snowy banks. It was unlikely that these soldiers -- all simulation troopers from the looks of them -- were going to catch onto them any time soon. But she still hadn’t had any sights on Wyoming.

And he was the one that she was concerned about.

Which, again, made this entire operation, once again, questionable.

Epsilon pouted, so much as an artificial intelligence could. “I’m just saying, I thought we were doing it to help your friend--”

“Texas is not my friend,” Carolina corrected.

“You should probably tell her that, then, because she sure as hell seems to be putting a whole lot of trust in you guys. I mean. Even York was kinda more prone to questioning than--”

“Don’t bring up York,” Carolina warned dangerously, her eyes focused on her AI for extra emphasis. It worked and Epsilon fell back slightly, shoulders of his sprite lifted high. “Don’t bring up York while we’re doing this dumb mission you’re so excited about. And especially don’t bring up York around her.”

“She doesn’t like York?” Epsilon asked curiously.

“They were... I don’t know. They were friends,” Carolina spat out, looking back to the fortress in the snow and making sure to count the seconds between patrols.

They were inconsistent -- disorganized.

That could work in their favor. Or it could work against them -- Carolina was not a fan of unpredictability, after all.

“So we’re not allowed to be friends with Texas,” Epsilon pushed for more information, as if their brain was not a two way street and Carolina understood exactly what his angle was.

Letting out a growl, Carolina snapped back, “Why do you care?”

“Hey, I’m just trying to make sure we’re on the same page here, Cee. Trying to make sure I understand all the rules. Being a good partner. Making your life easier and all that stuff a good AI partner is supposed to, calm down,” Epsilon said with a shrug.

Rolling her eyes somewhat petulantly, Carolina shook her own head. “You have far from made my life any easier, Epsilon.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed. Which means I deserve some leniency for at least trying, right?” he asked.

“No,” Carolina said. “Okay, there’s no patterns in the rotations but we’ve at least got a count on the soldiers.”

“And at least five options for a plan of attack,” Epsilon said just as five different maps loaded across Carolina’s HUD.

“What?” she said, glancing over them.

“Trying that whole making your life easier thing, being an AI and whatnot,” Epsilon said, a flicker of greenish-blue across his projection.

“You’re doing it again,” Carolina said, pausing. “The green projection. It’s--”

“It’s not really Delta,” Epsilon admitted somewhat sheepishly. “But... I miss him. And he helps me think.”

“You split,” Carolina said quietly.

“No,” Epsilon said quickly. “I just... I need to do things. Things to make all the... all the different parts of me make sense. I need voices to talk back to -- in my own time. I need them the way you need me.”

“Isn’t it dangerous?” Carolina asked lowly. “I don’t want you breaking up bits of my brain. It gives me enough challenges intact.”

“I know, I live in there,” Epsilon attempted to joke back. But when Carolina didn’t laugh with his pause, Epsilon sighed and hugged his shoulders. “I would never hurt you, Cee.”

“Not on purpose,” Carolina said softly.

“Not ever,” Epsilon argued, so ignorant of his own history still. “Which is why, even though Tex is a hot piece of circuit breakers, I’m totally respecting your nonsensical hatred of her and not going to ask her to exchange binary.”

Nose curling beneath her helmet, Carolina stunted a shutter. “I don’t even fully comprehend what you were suggesting and I’m disgusted. Have higher standards.”

“Well, I mean, it’s not like anyone can beat you in a fair fight, right?” Epsilon joked. “I have to lower a bit.”

All humor escaping her, Carolina selected one of the attack plans Epsilon had singled out and then began to quietly move back toward where the ship was hidden. “Tex beat me.”

“Oh, so I do have remarkable standards,” Epsilon said.

Letting out a furious growl, Carolina threw her fist into the nearest rock facing, snow shifting above them, nearly threatening to blow all their cover.

Fortunately for them, the simulation troopers patrolling not only didn’t see them, but managed to look in the wrong direction and start blaming each other for the commotion.

Wyoming’s hiring policies must have been pretty subpar.

“Whoa!” Epsilon cried out, appearing in front of Carolina’s face. “Would you calm down? You’re going to get us found out! You’re going to get yourself killed!”

“And what does that matter to you, Epsilon?” Carolina snarled. “What’s that matter to anyone? What am I at the end of the day to anyone compared to her? Why do people either leave and never come back or decide I’ll never be good enough? Why is no one on my side!?”

“Hey!” Epsilon said, voice stronger than Carolina had ever heard it. He stood his ground, sprite bright in front of her. “I’m on your side. I’m always on your side.”

She was ready to discount the cold comfort of his words, to spit back out the first retort that came to mind, but instead she found herself staring at Epsilon with a slackened jaw. He was part of her, part of her mind, and she could feel the meaning of his words stronger than even she had felt Eta and Iota.

He meant it. Epsilon really meant it.

“I just don’t think me being on your side has to mean we’re against everyone else,” Epsilon explained. “C’mon, Cee. You’re a team leader. You know how to play nice with people. And I like Tex. I think she’s what we need to get to the bottom of this. She’s another AI, and I don’t have Delta -- well, the real Delta -- to coach me anymore, right? Maybe this is all... I don’t know. The way things work out.”

"Don’t say something stupid,” Carolina warned, glaring at her AI. “Don’t tell me that everything’s meant to happen or--”

“Hell, no,” Epsilon said. “Bad shit happens all the time and makes no sense. I don’t remember much, but I know that. It’s written into my code. But... I think things happen, and you use ‘em or lose ‘em. Right?”

Carolina tilted her head, a bit in awe of the AI. She huffed then continued sneaking them back to the ship. “When did you get so intellectual, Epsilon?”

“Hey, when you’re a nonstop working computer brain, I figure intellect’s about the only thing you got,” he said self-depreciatingly. “So I won’t get cozy with Tex.”

“And I won’t threaten to kill her,” Carolina agreed. “But it’s hard.”

“Hey! Promises,” Epsilon responded cheekily just as they entered the ship. He glanced toward Tex and Niner then flickered off, almost obediently.

Though, Carolina had some suspicion it had to do with the uncomfortable way Tex leered at him every time he made his presence known.

“What’ve you got?” Niner broke the ice impatiently.

“A plan of action, if Tex can coordinate and work fast as a team,” Carolina said accusingly, ignoring the internal groaning from Epsilon. When Tex tilted her head and crossed her arms, Carolina let out her own sigh of aggravation and put her hands on her hips. “Look, we can do this. I’ll even have Epsilon send over the specs for it. But I’ve worked with teams before. You haven’t. I don’t know how well you’ll take orders.”

“I won’t,” Tex said clearly.

“Well, fantastic. Great start,” Carolina snapped, throwing up her hands. “You know, I don’t even know why we agreed to get this far--”

“Okay, Carolina, hold on a second,” Niner said. “Now, seriously, both of you cut the shit. I’m not your nanny. I’m your getaway driver. And neither of you are much use to me if you put a blemish on my record by not getting away alive. You going to fuck with my record, ladies?”

"No, ma’am,” both Carolina and Texas said in unison.

“Good,” Niner huffed, rolling her chair toward the command computers in the cockpit again. “I’ll run correspondence on a private line from in here. And I’ll know exactly which one of you hotheads blows our plan through doing so. So don’t test me.”

Nodding, Carolina responded with a simple, “Thanks, Niner.” She then turned to head out the door again only to walk into Tex who had somehow managed to sneak up behind her. “What--”

“Before we go, we’ve got to deal with your signal transmission,” Tex announced sternly.

Immediately filled with defensiveness, Epsilon appeared over Carolina’s shoulder. “Hey! I’ve been covering my butt since the second we got here--”

“Not your signal,” Tex snapped and then nodded to Carolina. “Hers. It’s radiating like a goddamn beacon.”

“What are you talking about?” Carolina asked before realization hit her. She waved to her armor’s chest. “My Recovery beacon? That’s more masked than any equipment you’ve probably got on you. And, what’s more, no one outside of this ship... this ship and one other person knows about it. It can’t be traced without being known about.”

She gritted her teeth, fully prepared to defend not telling Tex just who the other person was, but it fortunately did not come down to that.

“Really? Then how do I know about it?” Tex demanded.

Carolina audibly snapped her mouth closed at the question, realizing that the argument was not going in her favor thus far. “I don’t know, you’re a smart AI. You probably began scanning for it after realizing I was alive. What do you want? A cookie?”

“I want you to mask the signal,” Tex said simply. “If I found it on accident, how long do you think it’ll take the combined forces of Gamma and Omega to find it once guards start turning up missing or being found dead?”

A terse silence took over between them.

Epsilon looked back and forth before awkwardly forcing a cough. “Well, I mean, there is a point there, Cee.”

Carolina visibly hesitated. Those thoughts of York itched at the back of her mind like a bad memory, always just under the surface, and trying to dig their way back out to the surface.

It was something... it was something unfinished.

And her memories were even longer than Epsilon’s, it seemed.

“I was supposed to leave them on for someone,” she defended the beacon.

“Would that someone want you dead?” Tex asked crudely. “Because that’s the options we’re looking at right now, Carolina.”

Squaring her jaw, Carolina huffed and looked to Epsilon’s sprite.

“Can you turn off my Recovery beacon?” she asked, as if she didn’t already know the answer.

“Consider it done,” Epsilon answered before flickering off.

“Good,” Tex said, finally moving out the door. “Let’s do this... leader.”

Carolina scowled and followed.

As much as he hated to do it, York knew he had to pace himself -- take breaks and rest, even if he didn’t even fully sleep while he did so. Those injuries weren’t nothing and the fact that his suit’s power was still at least partially diverted to his healing unit meant even worse.

He couldn’t go nonstop, but he did keep going.

It hadn’t made a lot of sense to him back when Carolina originally did it -- when she gave him the way to track her beacon while removing his. At first it was just a sign of trust, the kind of sign they needed to move forward with whatever they were to each other.

But as he had no one to think with but himself, he found himself reflecting on that choice more and more.

It wasn’t simply that she needed to have his trust. She was trusting him, as well. And she was doing that by giving him the option of going with the hopes that he wouldn’t.

Laying back under the bushes he had himself and his vehicle in, York realized how dumb -- how stupid -- he was to have broken that trust.

“Man, what an asshole,” York muttered to himself.

He then paused, waiting.

His brain felt numb, even deflated, as the familiar hum never came. As the opportunity to berate him in good humor was not taken up by the empty space.

Chewing on his lip, York pulled up Delta’s audio file again, to help just pretend his brain was still full of facts and logic and the partnership he couldn’t even begin to put into words.

The last few times York was able to get anything resembling sleep, it was in the middle of Delta’s departure video. York had just about every word of it memorized.

He didn’t have the mind for numbers and theories that Delta had -- never even tried keeping up with the AI. And why would he? Delta had it covered.

But more and more York was taking comfort in memorizing. In remembering things, details, just to keep his mind running.

As long as he did that, it didn’t feel so empty anymore.

Once the recording ended, York ready to drift into semiconsciousness and then, hopefully, sleep, he instinctively pulled up the coordinates of Carolina’s Recovery beacon.

Figuring out the miles between them -- simple math, math he could do alone -- was another small comfort.

Except he didn’t find that comfort.

In shock, York sat up ramrod straight, nearly making himself dizzy and nauseous with it. But he ignored the vertigo, ignored the pain of injuries jarred by his movements.

Ignored it all and stared, mortified, at the update to his HUD.

Carolina’s beacon was no longer on the grid.

“What the fuck?” he said out loud, pulling up his last log of it, comparing, getting confused.

Did she not want him to find her now? Did something happen to her? Was she captured?

York didn’t know, but he was about to find out.

Completely awake and with adrenaline rushing through him, York leaped up and moved toward his mongoose and readied to drive in the direction of Carolina’s last beacon transmission when everything changed.

He heard the aircraft before he saw it. He looked up, recognizing the markings on the wings as the vehicle flew low overhead and toward the opposite direction.

"What the hell,” he muttered. “Charon Industries? That... can’t be a coincidence.”

It could have been, of course. York nearly waited to hear the statistical possibility that the rival institute would be on the Freelancer controlled planet. After all, Tex had showed him that they weren’t Insurrectionists after all, as horrifying as that realization had been.

But there was no little voice muttering probabilities in the corner of his mind. There was only dullness where a hum had once resonated.

And the only one second guessing York was himself. Something he had never been that great at.

“Well, let’s see how deep this rabbit hole goes,” York decided, turning the mongoose and heading after the ship.

Carolina had to hand it to Epsilon, the AI could actually make quite the plan of attack.

The fortress, while heavily guarded, was still guarded by complete morons. The sorts of flunkies which Project Freelancer managed to turn into simulation troopers were not chosen without reason.

While Tex flanked right, Carolina flanked left.

She easily moved silently through the soldiers. One moment, Epsilon would have her armor’s color change from red to blue as necessary and she sneaked past guards only to silently take them out from behind.

It was covert operations, it was her specialty. And Carolina was almost able to lull herself into simply rolling with the motions.

At least, until she was backing up and hit against something invisible.

“Hey!” Tex growled at the same time as Carolina turned with her gun aimed and yelled, “Hey!” herself.

Tex dropped her active camo and they stared at each other for a moment, guns up.

Epsilon appeared over Carolina’s shoulder and looked back and forth between them. “Ladies...”

“I took out twelve,” Carolina announced. “If you were able to take out the same amount there’s still three more guards--”

“Nope, I actually took out fifteen,” Tex said. “We’re covered.

“What?” Carolina hissed, dropping her gun and looking incredulously at Epsilon. “Epsilon!”

“What?” he called out. “What’d I do?”

“You gave her the side with the most soldiers?” Carolina growled.

“What’s it matter? I took them all out. Now we have to go for Wyoming,” Tex grunted.

“I didn’t mean to! I mean, maybe. It’s not what you think--” Epsilon attempted to defend himself just before there was a revving of an engine. “Oh what the fuck is going on now!?”

Just as the words left Epsilon, the doors behind Tex and Carolina burst open beneath the wheels of a warthog flying through the air, landing front wheels first, and driving directly into Tex, giving Carolina time to move only thanks to her speedboost.

TEX!!! Epsilon all but screamed in her mind, causing Carolina to go into a full body flinch.

“Epsilon!" she hissed, sliding to a standing position away from the ongoing collision. It was enough to make the AI stop screaming and get back into full attention, turning his projection off and turning her armor color to a deep red to blend into the surroundings.

The collision between Tex and the warthog continued, her caught on the grill before it smacked into the opposing wall. She let out a grunt, but otherwise reacted rather inhumanly to being pinned.

Carolina nearly leaped forward to begin to help, but she paused in her tracks.

She had known they were going after Wyoming, but seeing him there, in the seat, alive and well, was chilling. Unexpected somehow.

They had been hunting teammates. Just like she had supposed to have been hunting Maine. Even if it was, in her mind, always about following him to the Director.

Wyoming didn’t seem to hold any of those qualms.

“Well well, look who abandoned her mates to follow me. I’m flattered, of course, but you’ll pardon me for not acting surprised, Tex,” Wyoming said calmly before looking back toward the door and where two simulation troopers were laying on the ground. “And it seems you’ve killed my two best guards. Oh bugger.”

“Oops,” Tex gritted out. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

“Perish the thought, my dear. Tomorrow is pay day. You actually saved me quite a bit of money. Kill anyone else and I might have to start paying you commission,” Wyoming joked.

Tex did’t waste time, though. “Where is he!?”

Wyoming sighed. “Oh, right. And here I thought you were spending all this time trying to get close to me. Tisk tisk.”

“Cut the shit!” Tex roared. “Where is he?”

“Yes, he asks about you, too, Tex,” Wyoming said cryptically. “It’s almost as if you two are on the same mind.”

“That’s not funny,” Tex snapped.

“Sorry, but I can’t play matchmaker today, I’m entirely too busy,” Wyoming announced. “Seems there’s an Alpha that’s still missing its Omega.”

“Don’t you DARE!” Tex roared like some kind of caged animal, clawing at the hood of the warthog that was doing its level best to crush her into the concrete wall. Said wall cracked behind her armor.

“Alpha?” Carolina asked. “Epsilon, which one’s--”

Suddenly, there was a primal scream. It tore through her mind, ripping through her like tissue paper. Harmonious screams behind her eyeballs, ripping through her very soul.

It was rage and it was fear. It was heartache, it was anger. It was a memory of who was and who wasn’t anymore.

They came rippling through her mind, leaving Carolina with so little control to stop herself.

Crying out along with Epsilon, Carolina reached up and grabbed at the edges of her helmet, shaking her whole body back and forth in an effort to regain control.

The visions, the familiar faces, the names, the--

Sunshine--

“Carolina!” Tex yelled, barely heard through the cacophony within Carolina’s own skull.

Her eyes rolled back and her body dropped, her mind only casually hearing the sounds of a vehicle taking off. Hardly registering the the weightlessness of being picked up.

“It’s alright, I’ve got you, kiddo,” a familiar voice said through the blinding pain.

Carolina’s face was growing wet with tears as she held onto her helmet for dear life.

“Mom?” she asked just before everything went black.

I’m sorry. They were right all along. What’s... what’s wrong with me? echoed through her skull into the dark.

York played it safe. Maybe too safe.

He wanted a simultaneous terrain readout and a scan of the frequencies nearby the landed ship. He also wanted to divert some power from the healing unit to run all the systems together.

With Delta, he would have barely had time to think of the requests before the AI would have been bickering about how displeased he was with diverting from the healing unit.

But, once again, Delta wasn’t there.

Instead, York skipped the terrain readout, diverted more power from the healing unit than he probably should have, and then began manually skipping through the radio frequencies.

“This sucks,” York uttered in what had to be the world’s greatest understatement.

After what felt like forever, he locked onto a weak signal -- a personal channel from a helmet radio.

Perfect.

“Because I don’t have anything else to do!” a familiar voice screamed over the crackling radio.

Immediately, York gritted his teeth. “South.”

“There’s a ship inbound for some piece of shit place called Blood Gulch. I’ll take the place of the people on that ship, it’ll work from there. It has to,” she said to whoever she was speaking to. She sounded hysterical, upset. York had a hard time feeling sympathetic. “Why? Because we don’t have any other options. This is it. This is the one. That was where he was heading. You saw it yourself.”

Dropping from the channel, York narrowed his eyes and moved back toward the mongoose.

“I don’t know who’s heading to Blood Gulch, but I’m not letting South get there first,” he gritted out, setting his GPS. “Every time she’s a step ahead of us, it’s trouble. I’m done with letting it find us instead of them.”

He started up the mongoose and began the drive, ignoring how there was no us anymore.

#writing #rvb fic #RvB: Recovery None #Agent Carolina #Epsilon Church #Four Seven Niner #Agent Texas #Agent York #Agent Wyoming #Agent South

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