#christmas ficfest

[voldemorts-tap-shoes]

For era #2 (1989/evermore) of @cruelsummer-ficfest 💕

✨ Gold Rush ✨

My mind turns your life into folklore

I can't dare to dream about you anymore

~

“There’s something I want to talk to you about.”

“Anything you want.”

“You say that every day.”

“It’s true every day. I’m all yours. So what’s on the agenda?”

“You and Lavender.”

“Ugh. Pass.”

“Ron.”

“Why don’t I just throw myself off a bluff into the ocean instead?”

“Ron.”

“Okay, okay. What about me and Lavender?”

“Well, I suppose it’s more so about me and Lavender…”

“Were you snogging her, too?”

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake. I’m going to push you off a bluff into the ocean.”

“Honestly, Hermione, out with it, then. What about me and you and Lavender?”

“I never apologized to you.”

“You did, actually, about a hundred times.”

“For the birds, yes. Not for the rest of it.”

“I think the rest of it was more my doing, so…”

“I should’ve been more clear about my intentions for Slughorn’s Christmas party. And about my feelings for you in general.”

“You really don’t have to apologize for that.”

“I do. You’ve said plenty of sorry’s over the past few weeks, and I owe you some, too. Maybe if I had told you how I felt last year, we wouldn’t have wasted so much time.”

“If you’d told me how you felt, I probably would have snogged you right there in the greenhouse, and we’d have both wound up in detention. Besides, you could say that about a lot of things in the past year—hell, the past few years—but that doesn’t make it your fault that we missed out on that time.”

“I should’ve fought for you.”

“Fought for me? You make it sound like I’m the last of Mum’s Christmas biscuits around nine hungry Weasleys.”

“Well, that’s sort of how it felt last year, with everybody wondering what it would be like to love you.”

“Who’s everybody?”

“Okay, maybe not everyone. But Lavender and I, obviously. Hannah Abbott and Susan Bones both thought you were quite fit. And I do believe Anthony Goldstein would have been interested if you were so inclined.”

“Huh. Always wondered why he wanted my help with homework instead of yours. Suppose Wingardium Leviosa wasn’t the only one of my charms that caught his eye.”

“You are so lame. Why do I love you, again?”

“You just said it, I’m good with my wand.”

“Anyway…I didn’t like the Ron Weasley gold rush that seemed to be taking place. Selfishly, I hated the idea that I was going to have to compete for your attention.”

“You had it already, you know.”

“Until I didn’t. I didn’t make it clear that my hat was in the ring, and when Lavender kissed you, I folded. You had every right to carry on with her, even though I hated every second of it. I always wondered what it must be like to grow up that beautiful, and then she had you, too…”

“Hermione—”

“I was jealous, and I acted foolishly, and I took you for granted. You had to nearly die for me to see how horrible I was to you. So I’m sorry.”

“Apology still not necessary, but accepted.”

“Thank you.”

“For what it’s worth? You wouldn’t have had to fight that hard, if you had. It’s always been you. No contest.”

“For me, too. No contest.”

“But…do you ever think maybe it’s a good thing I had that little detour with Lavender?”

“You know, the wind really is quite strong out here on the coast. I could make your death look like an accident.”

“I’m serious. We don’t know what would have happened if you and I got together sooner. I do know we’re here now. I wouldn’t trade the path we took, because I wouldn’t want to end up somewhere else.”

“That’s actually very sweet.”

“Always the—”

“—tone of surprise, yes, yes, I know. I should stop being surprised by you by now, but it keeps things exciting, doesn’t it?”

“Good save.”

“Speaking of surprises, do you think Harry realizes anything has changed between us?”

“Hermione, the man has got more important things to think about than if you and I have finally got our heads out of our arses. We’re trying to save the world here.”

“So definitely yes?”

“Definitely yes.”

“I suppose it’s not exactly subtle that you’ve been sleeping in my room every night.”

“We don’t sleep every night…”

“That’s beside the point.”

“I think that’s exactly the point, and—are you blushing?”

“We should get back, Fleur will have dinner on soon.”

“I can’t believe you’re blushing. Especially after last night…”

“Ronald!”

“Wow, two weeks together, and you’re already embarrassed of our relationship. That cliff is looking better and better every minute.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“And yet, you love me.”

“Alas. Yes, I do. And you love me.”

“Yep. I reckon you’re stuck with me now.”

~

And the coastal town

We wandered 'round had never

Seen a love as pure as it

[adenei]

The Moment I Knew

Submission #1 for Era 3 (Red/Lover) of @cruelsummer-ficfest

Ship: Romione

Song: The Moment I Knew (Red)

Read on AO3

You should be here.

Tears stream down Hermione’s face as she tends to Harry. She’s not sure how long she’s been awake, but there’s no way she can sleep until she can be certain he’s okay. Between making sure he’s breathing, tending to his wounds from the wreckage and fighting against Nagini, and keeping her distance every time he has a night terror, she’s exhausted.

But what can she do? There’s no one to split the load with. It’s just Harry and Hermione. Ron’s still gone. Another choked sob escapes her lips as the constant reminders of his absence still shake her to her very core. And she spends another sleepless night wondering if she’ll ever see him again.

You said you’d be here.

Hermione closes her eyes as yet another tear slips through. Harry’s keeping watch and she’s finally able to get some much needed sleep. Except she can’t.

She’s too afraid that something is going to happen. There’s only two of them. Just like it has been for the last month. If something were to happen, she would never forgive herself.

He said he’d be here.

They promised each other they’d stand by Harry no matter what. She can’t remember how many times they’d spoken about it at the Burrow last summer. Even at Grimmauld Place, he said they’d get through this together. Together.

Over and over again, she tries not to fall apart. She tries not to think of him. Of all the things they could have been, and the sinking feeling grows. Her mind is at war. Conflicting thoughts of anger and grief play on repeat when she can’t distract herself with a book. She’s been over the same scenarios in her head hundreds of times, yet they still play out. Tantalizing her with thoughts of how things could be different if he were still here. But he’s not.

As her eyelids finally droop from exhaustion, a happier image plays in her mind. One of a fantastical reunion—a reunion she knows will only happen in her wildest dreams.

And it was like slow motion.

“Hermione! Hermione, come quick!”

Jolting awake, she throws the covers off her body and runs to the tent flap,  burstint through. Defenseless, she looks around for Harry in the early light of dawn, the cold air stinging her cheeks.

“What’s wrong? What happened? Are you alright?” 

Her head whips from left to right, searching for danger or threats. And that’s when she sees him.

“More than alright, actually.” Harry speaks, but his words are drowned out by the buzzing in her ears.

This has to be a dream. She can’t possibly be awake. The likelihood of him ever finding them again was so small and yet…

Frozen, she stands there in one of his old Christmas sweaters and lingering hints of the perfume he gifted her fifth year—the only two things she still has to keep him close to her. Though perhaps now, she won’t need them. Assuming he’s not a mirage.

Their eyes lock and he offers her a sheepish grin. But it’s her favorite. The way one side of his mouth raises slightly higher than the other makes her weak in the knees. And before she knows it, she’s running toward him, forgetting that Harry’s around and that she doesn’t have a wand to protect herself in case this is all a trap. 

But she doesn’t care. Because if this is Ron and he’s back, there’s only one thing she wants.

She flings her arms around him to break her stride and he gladly catches her. It’s unmistakably him. She knows. Deep down she knows. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers in her ear. “I’m so sorry. I never should have left. I should have been here.”

She could say I know or I told you so, but she doesn’t. She simply holds on tight. Tears fall yet again, but this time they’re because she’s happy. The stars have aligned and she’s just so happy.

And that was the moment she knew.

[up-to-some-good]

You Are In Love

My second piece for @cruelsummer-ficfest!! This is honestly one of my favourite pieces I've ever written, so I hope you enjoy!

Ship: Jily

Song: You Are In Love (Taylor's Version)

James

James Potter had been declaring his love for Lily Evans since he was eleven years old. He saw her in the train and just knew – he could annoy that girl forever. That’s how it started, at least. For the first three years he was like a younger sibling, trying to find the right button to press to get a huff.

Then he turned fourteen and suddenly, it wasn’t as funny when she rolled her eyes at his every action and refused to talk to him. At fifteen, it hurt when she tore his Valentine’s card in half without even looking at it.

At sixteen he realised he needed to grow up and decided to leave her alone. The realisation came with his best friend, arriving halfway through the summer of ’76 with a wand and a few bruises, begging for somewhere to stay that wasn’t overrun with Death Eaters. They all needed to grow up, act like the adults they nearly were, and start preparing for war.

An unintentional consequence of all this was his growing friendship with Lily. They sat together in Potions and by the start of Christmas break, she was laughing at his jokes and agreeing to study together in their free periods. By the end of the year, she sought him out at mealtimes and sat with him and the marauders in the common room. He heard from her first when he became Head Boy, her owl arriving seconds after he sent his to congratulate her.

They started dating in October ’77. Night patrols around the castle became a time for them to talk about the war, about exams, about her sister and his adopted brother. She kissed him first. He knew he liked her, had for ages, but hadn’t wanted to ruin the friendship he’d just gotten. She didn’t care. Life is too short, she said, not to take a chance.

He liked her. He knew this. Even his eleven year old self had known that, somewhere deep down. The extent of it didn’t hit him until the end of the year.

Exams had finally ended for the seventh years. In a few days, they’d be graduating and leaving Hogwarts forever. They hadn’t had time to be excited yet, to be happy. NEWTs had been gruelling, and they were all exhausted.

James walked in from his last patrol to find Lily asleep on the sofa in the common room. There were two mugs of hot chocolate on the table across from her, kept steaming warm with a charm. He walked over to her and crouched in front of her face, brushing her hair out of her eyes to wake her gently.

“Waited for you,” she slurred.

“You didn’t have to,” he responded in a whisper. “You could’ve gone to bed.”

She sat up slowly, stretching her back and rubbing her eyes.

“Don’t wanna go to bed,” she groaned. “I wanna be with you. Let’s go for a walk.”

“It’s the middle of the night,” he replied. “McGonagall will have our heads.”

“What’s she going to do? Expel us? There’s three days left before we graduate.”

He chuckled and stood up, pulling her up with him. She grinned and picked up both mugs, handing one to James. He took a sip before grabbing her hand and walking them to the portrait hole.

They wandered down to the lake, chatting about old memories in whispers and pointing out constellations once they got outside. After one lap around the lake their drinks were finished, and they decided to head back to the warmth of Gryffindor tower.

Halfway back, Lily ran out of steam and draped herself across James’s back, grumbling about the long way back. Chuckling to himself, he vanished their mugs to free his hands and picked her up. She tucked her face into his neck and gave him a sleepy hum of thanks as he began walking again.

Sometimes before the portrait hole, her breathing evened out. She was fast asleep, her arms around his neck, his arms under her thighs, keeping her secure on his back. He turned his head a pressed a kiss to her forehead and breathing in her citrusy shampoo for a moment.

It hit him in that moment, in the silent corridor as the rest of the school slept: he never wanted this to end. He wanted to annoy her forever, until they were old and grey, and she had smile lines from years of laughing at his antics.

“I’m in love with you, Lily Evans.”

*

Lily

Lily Evans didn’t even like James Potter when she met him. He was rude and annoying, and he couldn’t sit still. For their first few years at Hogwarts, he seemed to be determined to prove how unlikable he was with his annoying smirk and endless pranks. By their fourth year, she had decided to just ignore him and his annoying friends, only befriending Remus despite Severus’s warnings. Remus, at least, seemed to care about his schoolwork, unlike the rest of the marauders.

Fifth year presented her with a quandary. James, she found, could be quite funny on occasion. He also wasn’t the idiot she always thought he was, figuring out some of their more complex work before anyone else in their class. She still didn’t like him and found his attempts to woo her irritating, but she could see what everyone else could for the first time.

By Christmas of their sixth year, she couldn’t remember what had been so annoying about him in the first place. He had only actually asked her out about three times since first year, each attempt years apart from the last. Everything else she had found so annoying had largely been either a well-intended prank or done in defence in someone more vulnerable. Besides the incident during the OWLs, she couldn’t find anything she truly resented him for, and he had apologised for that day.

In seventh year she kissed him. She couldn’t be just a friend anymore. He was charming and smart, and he listened to her complain about Petunia for hours on end. He was loyal to his friends, loyal to a fault, and seemed to have endless optimism and kindness to give. He was handsome too, in his own way with his messy hair and glasses that made his eyes seem slightly too big. She didn’t want to be friends anymore; she wanted to hold his hand and fall asleep with her head on his chest.

The summer after they graduated, he invited her to stay at his house for a few weeks. His parents had gone to some family event in New Delhi, Sirius had moved out to his apartment with Remus, and James admitted he didn’t want to be alone. She agreed easily and they spent days drifting around the manor and the town of Godric’s Hollow together. She fell asleep every night with his arms around her and woke up every morning to the sun just barely coming through the curtains.

One morning she woke up to an empty bed, his spot still warm. She shivered as she got out of bed, a chill in the air due to the early morning. One of James’s hoodies was abandoned on the floor, so she pulled it over her sleep clothes – an old t-shirt she had also stolen from him, and some scruffy pyjama shorts she’d had since he was thirteen. She was practically drowning in the worn fabric, the sleeves only just revealing her fingertips, but it was warm and smelt like James, so she was happy.

She made her way downstairs to find James. He was in the kitchen, preparing breakfast and coffee for the two of him. His hair was even messier than usual, and he didn’t have his glasses or a shirt on, just a pair of flannel pyjama pants riding low on his hips. She leaned on the doorway, watching as he pulled two charred slices of toast out of the toast with his fingertips, shaking his hands out and swearing the second they landed on the plates. She let out a small laugh and he looked up, a smile making its way onto his lips and his eyes lighting up as he saw her.

“Are you laughing at me?” he asked in lieu of a greeting.

“Just a little,” she admitted. “That toast is burnt.”

He huffed out a laugh and pointed over at the kettle, where two steaming mugs were waiting.

“I may not be a great cook,” he said. “But I make a mean cup of coffee. That much I can guarantee.”

She laughed a little and moved from her position in the doorway to drape her arms around his neck. His hands instinctually moved to her hips as she pressed up against his chest. She tilted her head up for a good morning kiss, not caring about morning breath or chapped lips.

“I’m in love with you, James Potter,” she whispered against his lips.

“Because I make good coffee?” he asked with a smirk.

“Just shut up and kiss me.”

His hands moved to her back, pulling her impossibly closer as they kissed.

“I’ve been in love with you forever, Lily Evans.”

You can hear it in the silence, silence, you

You can feel it on the way home, way home, you

You can see it with the lights out, lights out

You are in love, true love

You are in love

[noneedtoamputate]

💖💘💞 some hearts for the ask game!

Thanks, Sam.

💖 A drabble that made you want 100 more words.

I don't read a lot of drabbles, mostly because if I do like them, I want more! However, a late online friend of mine held a Twelvetide Drabbles ficfest each winter, giving prompts for 12 days and people donating money to charity. It's where I tried my hand at fan fiction for the first time, and there is a lot of good stuff in the collection. It crosses all fandoms, so there was always something for everyone. Check it out.

💘 A fic you couldn't stop reading once you started.

I tried my hand at M/M fic for the first time this Christmas for an exchange. (The recipient said they liked it, and that was very kind of them.) I did a lot of Spierton research before writing and read The Desolate House by Howling_Harpy in one sitting.

💞A fic that led you to being friends with the author.

Sam, I hope it's not too presumptuous to include you as an online friend. (I read Sam's Where the Pieces Go after my BoB rewatch last summer. She graciously let me build on her fic.) Thanks for letting me message you random things that pop in my head every so often and for leaving me thoughtful comments on my fic and for creating emotional works of fiction.

Someone else who I hope is a friend is @shoshiwrites, I don't know how I stumbled onto her blog, but I'm so glad I did. Her Jo Brandt is one of my favorite OFCs in the BoB fandom. One thing I've learned from Sho is I don't just have to keep writing chapter after chapter on my main fic, especially if it's not feeling right. She uses Jo in AUs and has moved her over to Masters of the Air, too. If I create a character, I can do with her what I want, so thanks for showing me that, Sho! She's also someone else who puts up with my random thoughts and questions and is helping Chuck and me pick out an important piece of jewelry in an upcoming chapter.

Fic Recs

[gallavichgeek]

Peppermint Treat

(Gallavich Winter FicFest Collection)

Summary:

Mickey wants to find the perfect way to prove to Ian that he too is embracing the Christmas spirit thanks to his husband's obsession with the holiday. The answer, Candy Canes.

Read the fic here

[liiilyevans]

No cameras catch my pageant smile I counted days, I counted miles To see you there, to see you there It's been a long time coming, but

Or, Draco has a desire to learn more about Astoria when he sees her again.

Note: I really struggled with this song! I started this fic in Astoria's POV and scrapped the whole thing about half way through and started writing from Draco's POV, which I find quite funny at certain points in this fic. Anyways, I chose to focus on a few lines from the song such as, 'no cameras catch my pageant smile,' 'you play stupid games, you win stupid prizes,' 'no cameras catch my muffled cries,' 'and I don't want you to (go), I don't really wanna (fight),' and of course, the title lyric 'voted most likely to run away with you.' I hope you enjoy! Thank you to the @cruelsummer-ficfest mods for the challenge of this one!

Read on AO3

His parents were upset. Since he was a baby, he’d spent every Christmas with them. The only one he’d missed was in fourth year when he went to the Yule Ball. Now, he was abandoning them to globe trot with his friends for five days. At least, that was what his mother said. Her glare had been so icy when he’d walked out the front door that he thought shards would be embedded into his jacket. Theo met him at the gate of Malfoy Manor and then they were Apparating to the Portkey site. 

When Theo had asked Draco to come to Athens, he’d been surprised then suspicious. Pansy and Blaise were the ones who invited him to social events. Theo was quiet and kept to himself, but he and Draco had a pleasant enough relationship over the years. When they were in school, Theo had been the only roommate who Draco could stand. Crabbe and Goyle were both loud sleepers and dead to the world once they were asleep. Blaise had been entitled and pushy. Theo was quiet and took up little space. Most times, Draco barely noticed he was there. Besides, Athens would be a good way to get his mind off of Astoria Greengrass dancing all over his heart on the Zabini’s dancefloor. 

Since the Zabini wedding at the beginning of summer, Draco had been steadily avoiding her, only giving her clipped responses when she approached him at any pureblood soirées and more often than not, making excuses not to talk to her altogether. By the end of the summer, Astoria seemed to finally take the hint. She hadn’t spoken to him since. 

Which was for the best. Someone as clean as Astoria Greengrass didn’t deserve to be tainted by his reputation. 

Or him with his tainted hands and battered soul. 

When they arrived at the suite, Theo pushed the door open. Draco stepped into what looked like a sitting room levitating his luggage behind him. It was pristine with a white couch and two armchairs gathered around a table. The kitchen was right next to it, marble countertops gleaming from the light over the sink. There were four doors, two on each wall, leading to what Draco assumed were bedrooms and a beautiful balcony overlooking the city. 

Daphne was seated on the couch, her legs tucked underneath her, and her blonde hair pulled into a high ponytail. Across from her sat Marcus Flint, which shocked Draco to the core. He was still as broad as ever, dwarfing Daphne. He was clean shaven and was eying Draco with a look of surprise and confusion. Theo hadn’t told Daphne that he was coming then. 

Draco nodded to the older man. “Flint.” 

“Malfoy,” he said pleasantly enough. Off the pitch, Flint wasn’t so bad to be around, a bit rough around the edges though. 

Daphne’s brow furrowed. “I didn’t realize you were bringing company, Theo.” 

Theo shrugged. “I didn’t think you’d mind.” 

“I don’t,” she said. “Draco, you knew Marcus was my cousin, didn’t you?” 

Draco shook his head. He’d never really paid attention to the Greengrass family tree. 

“Well, now you do,” she said. “He’ll be vacationing with us.” 

Draco didn’t know why she felt the need to state the obvious. 

“In here,” Theo said, nodding to one of the rooms.

Rolling his eyes, he stepped into the room Theo was staying in and let his luggage drop to the floor. He hadn’t expected the twin beds, and Theo was steadily avoiding eye contact with him. 

“Why are we sharing a room?” Draco said lowly. 

“What? You don’t fancy bonding with me?” Theo said with a quirk of his eyebrow. 

“I had enough bonding with you when we shared a dorm at Hogwarts,” he said. Merlin, that had been an adjustment. Until that point, Draco was used to being an only child and that meant having a whole manor to himself, dozens and dozens of dust covered rooms to explore. Having to share a room with six different boys had been a nightmare. 

Turning on his heel, Draco marched back into the sitting room to demand that someone switch rooms with him only to be met with the rich brown eyes of Astoria Greengrass. The Greengrasses were clearly in the middle of a reunion, Astoria still in Flint’s arms and Daphne grinning broadly at both of them. There was shock in her eyes as she watched him, and Draco felt the urge to turn back around and spend the rest of this vacation locked in that bedroom with Theo, as unpleasant as that would be. 

He wasn’t afforded that opportunity though. 

“We should all go out to celebrate,” Daphne said, clapping her hands. “We haven’t seen Marcus in ages, and I know where we can get the best wine in the city.” 

#

As it turned out, Daphne didn’t end up getting any kind of wine. Instead, she downed four margaritas in such a quick succession that she was ten times more talkative than usual. Lucky for Draco, she sat next to Theo. His evening was filled with watching Theo squirm as Daphne prattled on, only barely letting him get two words in edge wise. Draco thought it served Theo right for tricking him into coming on this trip. 

If there was one word that summed up Theodore Nott, it was observant. He was sure to have noticed that Draco had avoided Astoria after the Zabini wedding. For some morbid reason, he seemed to find Draco’s discomfort amusing. Little did anyone know, he’d been ready to bare his soul to Astoria when she’d stranded him on that dance floor. It was truly a blessing that she left when she did. It saved him the trouble of picking up the pieces of his shattered heart later on when he was more invested in . . . whatever it was they had been dancing around. 

Draco rolled over for the fourth time. This bed was small and terribly uncomfortable — much too firm compared to what he was used to. As he glanced over at his roommate, Theo seemed quite content. He was facing the opposite wall, his breathing even. Rolling his eyes, Draco climbed out of bed and grabbed his wand — a habit Aunt Bella had instilled in him. Fresh air would clear his head and hopefully zap some of the energy out of him. 

Gently, he opened his bedroom door and slipped into the sitting room. The moonlight was streaming in from the balcony, casting a soft glow on the room. The door to the balcony was cracked. Palming his wand, Draco slowly slipped over to the edge of the door, careful to keep himself out of sight. When he glanced outside, he saw Astoria and Flint sitting in the lounge chairs, their backs toward him. Astoria’s hair was loose and curling around her shoulders. It reminded him of the night she’d let it down on the dock before Pansy’s wedding. She had looked beautiful with those brown eyes high from the joint they’d been smoking. He had no doubt that she looked just as beautiful now, though he couldn’t see her face. However, he did spot another cigarette hanging between her fingertips. 

“I didn’t realize you were on a first name basis with Malfoy,” he heard Flint say. 

Astoria didn’t say anything for a moment. “What gave you that impression?”

“Earlier when I asked if you knew that he and Nott were going to be here, you said, ‘Daphne only told me Theo was coming, not Draco.’” 

“We’ve talked before,” Astoria admitted, and Draco felt a spark of outrage. If she dared to say one thing about the time they’d spent together — dared to tell Flint that she’d touched his Mark — he would burst onto that balcony now and obliviate them both. He didn’t care if it was illegal. 

“He’d be bad for you.” Flint’s voice pulled Draco from his anger. “He’s entitled and selfish. He only looks out for himself. You could do better.” 

Flint was right. Astoria could do much better than him with her witty remarks and her stunning smile. Merlin, even Potter talked to her if the rumors from the Ministry were anything to go by. And Draco was bitterly jealous because all he could think of was that night on the dock when she’d touched his Mark. It felt like someone had really seen him for the first time in a very long time. And just as he’d been ready to share his darkest moments with her, she’d left him on that dancefloor.

Astoria scoffed. “I didn’t see you complaining about his entitlement when you got a Nimbus 2001 out of it.” 

“This isn’t Quidditch, Astoria,” Flint said, and Draco could hear his eye roll. Flint didn’t say anything else for a moment. Just as Draco thought their conversation was over, Flint spoke again. “How much of that do you take now?”

From where he was standing, Draco could see Flint nod to the joint between his cousin’s fingers. Astoria simply lifted the cigarette to her mouth and took a long drag. Draco had never wanted to be an inanimate object more. 

“Enough,” she said. “Why are you so concerned?” 

“I’m always concerned about you, Astoria.” It was the first time Draco had heard Flint sound honestly sincere. Even though he couldn’t see the older man’s face, Draco could tell that he was staring at Astoria intently. Almost as intently as she was avoiding his gaze. 

“Well, stop worrying about me,” she said finally. “It’s bad for your blood pressure.” 

There was an undertone to their words. Though they seemed like simple questions, Draco got the feeling that they were talking in some kind of code. Flint wasn’t talking about her drug intake, at least not entirely. Draco leaned toward the glass door unconsciously. He was beginning to realize this is what Astoria did to him — made him want to learn more about her and store each golden nugget of information away for later use. His knee loudly knocked the table in front of him, and he quickly grabbed it to keep it from toppling over. Angry footsteps sounded on the balcony. He was going to die. 

Quickly, Draco cast a disillusionment charm and pressed his back against the wall. 

Flint yanked the glass door all the way open, and Draco flinched at the rage that covered his face. He scanned the room slowly, his eyes narrowed. Glancing down, Draco noticed his wand was in his left hand and his sleeves were rolled up, his Dark Mark on full display. When Draco’s gaze returned to the older man’s face, he was looking directly at Draco, squinting slightly. Fear slithered up his stomach and into his throat. Flint was going to hex him, possibly kill him. 

“Quit being paranoid, Marcus,” Astoria called. She hadn’t even bothered to turn around from what Draco could see. “It was probably just the wind.” 

Marcus glanced around the room once more before firmly shutting the glass door. 

Draco let out the breath he’d been holding. After waiting a few moments and sneaking a few glances out of the glass door to make sure Astoria and Flint weren’t suspicious, Draco hurried back to his room and promptly closed the door. 

Theo was still sleeping. The bastard. 

#

The only good thing about shopping in Athens was that he couldn’t go wrong with whatever he decided to buy his mother. The mink stoles were just to her taste, the feather hats just the right mix of delicate and sophisticated, the pearl bracelets just expensive enough without being gaudy. Draco knew he couldn’t come back empty handed if he wanted to spend the next few months without her silent glares of judgement. His father was the tricky one. While his mother liked expensive things, his father liked rare things — things that he could drag out once a year to show his friends. Draco would find nothing like that here. 

“That has to be the ugliest hat I’ve ever seen.” 

Draco’s head snapped to the right as Astoria came to stand beside him. She was as stunning as usual in her dark red lipstick, long sleeved green dress, and green beret. It should have been ridiculous — especially since they were in Athens, not Paris — but Astoria pulled it off beautifully. Draco thought she could pull off a potato sack. She fixed her dark brown eyes on him, a smile starting to curve at the corners of her mouth. 

“I don’t think you could pull it off,” she said, nodding to the red and black monstrosity he’d been examining. 

Draco sputtered. “It’s not for me.” 

“Oh.” She turned back to the hat. “Well, that’s good because it wouldn’t suit your complexion at all.” 

Rolling his eyes, Draco turned back to the display of hats. If he ignored her, she would get bored and leave, or Flint would pull her attention away from him. Then he could go on about his day trying to forget that she smelled like jasmine or the soft feel of her back against his fingertips or the gentle way she’d run her fingertips over his Mark. Yes, it was best to forget all about those things before she made him do something that was likely to get him hexed by Flint. 

“You really shouldn’t eavesdrop on people, you know,” she said casually. “Your mother would find it obscene.” 

Draco froze, the silk brim of a hat still between his fingers. With his heart beating rapidly, he tried to think of a moment during the previous night that Astoria might have caught a glimpse of him. However, she’d had her back turned to the glass door the whole time. There was no way she would have seen him. 

“I didn’t-” Before he could even finish his lie, Astoria roughly pinched his bicep.

Draco yelped and stepped away from her. 

“You play stupid games, you win stupid prizes,” she said, never taking her eyes off the display in front of her. Anger surged up inside him like a tidal wave. Who did she think she was? Stomping all over his newfound hope one minute and physically abusing him in public the next? Draco would not stand for this. 

“You have no idea-”

“You could just talk to me, you know,” she said, turning to him suddenly and stepping forward. As she invaded Draco’s personal space, his mouth went dry and any harsh words he was going to say before were now drifting from his mind like a soft breeze. Astoria’s eyes were beautiful, especially when he could make out the different shades of brown in them — the light caramel, the deep umber, the rich coffee. They held sincerity and an earnestness that Draco wanted to believe in so bad. Yet he couldn’t forget the last time he’d let himself believe that anyone might be willing to look past the picture that was painted of him after the war — couldn’t forget the way his heart had shattered when she’d turned and practically run away from him. 

“I have nothing to say to you,” he whispered lowly. He couldn’t even manage a decent glare, only a slight narrowing of his eyes. 

“Right,” she muttered, looking down. “Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me.” 

#

Draco swore that he wasn’t going to go out on the balcony that night. Even if Theo was as silent as the dead in his bed, Draco was positive he could hear him breathing. That was the reason he was climbing out of bed, not because he hoped to see a certain brunette in the moonlight again. It was more than any sane person could be expected to bear. His father would never have stood for it. As Draco softly closed his bedroom door, he glanced toward the balcony. He wasn’t going out there. He was just going to sit on the couch; maybe sleep there since he knew that he wouldn’t be able to sleep in that room with Theo. Without even realizing it, he was already standing in front of the cracked sliding door. 

Astoria was just as beautiful as she had been the night before, the moonlight casting an ethereal glow on her. Her hair was pulled back into a slick ponytail this time, and Draco could make out the sides of her face — her delicate nose that she shared with her sister, the dark lipstick she hadn’t taken off yet, the high arch of her eyebrow. There was weariness there, too — in her pale skin, the faint dark circles under her eyes, the slight droop of her shoulders. She was never so vulnerable in the day with those pageant smiles and barbed words that she wore like armor. Yet here in the dark, she seemed to have shed them like a snakeskin. 

Draco silently pushed the door open. 

When he took a seat next to her, she didn’t seem surprised, didn’t even bother to spare him a second glance. Nerves settled in the bottom of Draco’s stomach. Perhaps, he should have stayed in the sitting room. The couch was far more comfortable than this chair anyway. But curiosity overtook him. 

“How’d you know it was me last night?” 

When she finally looked over at him, Astoria was grinning. “Because Daphne would have come outside, and Theo wouldn’t have gotten caught.” 

Draco sputtered as his cheeks bloomed red. This was obviously a horrible idea. After all, Astoria only ever insulted him or used him to cure her morbid fascination with the Dark Lord and his followers. But she started to laugh at the look on his face, and Draco flopped back in his chair pouting. How was he ever supposed to leave her be when her laugh sounded that lovely? 

“Do you enjoy inadvertently insulting people?” he asked, crossing his arms. 

“Only you,” she crooned, and Draco thought he could live with that. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her reach into a small plastic bag and begin to roll a joint. So, she rolled them herself. Fascinating. When she had finished, she pressed the cigarette between her lips and lit it with her wand. After she took a drag, she offered it to Draco. Silently, he snatched the cigarette from her fingers and inhaled. 

“Where do you get this?” he demanded when he handed the joint back to her. “It doesn’t feel like back-alley shit.” 

She laughed. “Do you think I’d buy back-alley shit?” 

He shrugged. “Who’s your dealer?” 

Astoria took a drag. “That’s none of your business.” 

Draco didn’t bother to dignify that with a response. If she wanted to be evasive, let her. He could be evasive, too. 

“So, are we going to talk about Venice?” she asked. 

She was looking directly at him now, but Draco avoided her gaze. They’d done enough talking in Venice, and he was not about to open himself up to her again. So, silence would do. Besides, he was too intoxicated by the scent of jasmine to form a coherent thought anyway. 

Astoria swung her legs over the lounge chair to face him. “Let’s play a game.” 

Draco rolled his eyes. “What kind of game?”

“A questions game,” she said. “I ask you a question and you have to answer honestly. Then you ask me a question. And so on.” Draco glared at her. He was not born yesterday, and he was not playing that game. “You can go first.” 

It was tempting. Learning about Astoria was like trying to break into a vault at Gringotts. All Draco really knew about her was that she was Daphne’s sister, she stood strongly against the Dark Lord, and she currently worked in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. She’d never shared anything deeply personal with him, but now she was offering. 

“Who’s your dealer?” 

“Pass,” she said. When Draco tried to protest, she shook her head. “We both get one pass. Ask something else.” 

“Why is Flint so protective of you?” 

A soft smile fell over Astoria’s face. “Marcus has always been that way. He’s like my older brother.” He’d never seen her this soft before. Her eyes weren’t as guarded, instead open; her body wasn’t tense, just relaxed. Draco wondered if that was due to the marijuana. “When we were kids, he’d get us out of trouble or cover up for us. For me really, because I was the one who dragged Daphne into trouble.” Draco snorted, which earned him a smile. “And if he’s harsh, it’s because the world has been incredibly unkind to him.” 

Draco rather thought that it was the other way around. Marcus Flint had a reputation among the Death Eaters. He was ruthless. Whenever the Dark Lord had needed someone to disappear or needed information out of someone, there were a select few Death Eaters that were called on. Flint had been one of them. None of those on trial had mentioned his name because they were terrified of what he would do to them. According to rumors, he had a long reach, possibly even from inside Azkaban since the Ministry did away with the Dementors. His reputation contrasted starkly with the man who was currently on vacation with them. 

“Who were you looking at that hat for?” she asked. 

“My mother,” Draco said. That was easy enough. 

Astoria raised her eyebrows. “Your mother?” 

“Yes, my mother. She was upset when she found out I wouldn’t be spending the holidays with her and Father.” 

“Why aren’t you spending the holiday with them?” 

“It’s not your turn,” Draco said. Astoria rolled her eyes as if the rules were stupid, and she hadn’t come up with them herself. “When did you start disagreeing with what our society says about Mud- erm, Muggleborns?” 

That hard look was back in Astoria’s eyes. She leaned back on her hands before she answered him. “I’ve never agreed with it. My father taught me to use my brain and to think critically before making any kind of decision. The idea of ‘pure blood’ always seemed ludicrous to me. It makes absolutely no sense. But if you’re asking when it solidified for me, it was my first year.” Astoria bit her lip, and Draco was transfixed. “The first person I met after the sorting was a boy named Lucas. We were really good friends, just one of those instant connections. He was a Slytherin and a Muggleborn. So, his life wasn’t easy. I couldn’t do much. Snape wasn’t much help. I was eleven, but I told Daphne to make sure he was safe and left alone, and I always stood up for him when I saw the older kids bully him. But that wasn’t enough. I don’t know who did it, but someone went into his dorm and painted the word ‘Mudblood’ over his bed, left his sheets in ribbons, and tore through his truck. He cried about it for weeks, which only made everyone tease him more. None of the Slytherins wanted anything to do with him and the other houses were wary of him because of the colors he wore. I’m sure it was a living hell. I found him trying to sleep on the couch in the common room one night, and I stayed with him. I’m pretty sure he cried himself to sleep. His parents pulled him out of Hogwarts two weeks later.” 

Astoria was looking away from him, and Draco felt sorry for his school actions for the first time. While he hadn’t been the one who painted that boy’s bed, he was sure he could have easily figured out who did it. He’d never really thought of his actions’ effect on other people, only the immediate high he’d get after he said something mildly clever, and his friends laughed. In his mind, the people he bullied never had feelings, and there were never any lasting effects to his hateful remarks. He was beginning to realize how wrong he was.

“I didn’t . . . I didn’t know about that,” he muttered. 

“Probably because you were too busy milking that hippogriff injury and trying to get Hagrid fired,” she said bluntly. 

Draco winced. Perhaps not his finest moment. 

Astoria stood then, stretching her arms above her head. Draco followed the movement, up her legs, past the strip of skin showing where her shirt had ridden up, onto the arch of her back and her breasts, until he reached her dark eyes. They were cloudy again, hiding the world’s secrets for all he knew. Suddenly, she seemed wiser than him. And closed off, he realized, because she was done revealing things about herself. A chill ran through him. 

“As fun as this has been, my sister has a full itinerary planned for tomorrow, so I need some sleep.” 

Draco stood quickly as she started to step past him and grabbed her upper arm. Her name slipped from his lips without his permission, and horror suddenly flooded him. He had absolutely no words for her, but she was looking up at him expectantly. 

He cleared his throat. “Will you . . . will you be here tomorrow night?” 

She smiled brilliantly. “I may be persuaded. Good night, Draco.” 

#

“What do you think?” Daphne asked, holding up two tops that looked exactly the same, but in two different colors. How they’d ended up alone in the shop was a mystery to Draco, but Daphne had insisted she needed a second opinion, and since Astoria had disappeared with Flint and Theo, Draco would have to step in. 

He’d never been particularly close with Daphne during their time at Hogwarts. She had flirted with Blaise all through their sixth year and started to date him in their seventh. At the time, Blaise had gotten on his nerves, too entitled and removed from the war for Draco to find him anything other than annoying and childish. There was also Pansy. Draco never found out what was between them, but Pansy was always passive aggressive with Daphne, like she posed some kind of secret threat. Because he hadn’t wanted to deal with one of Pansy’s tantrums, he had left Daphne alone and only spoke to her when necessary. 

“I think the gold is more flashy, but the silver goes better with your undertones.” Something he would not have known if he hadn’t been dragged on shopping spree after shopping spree with his mother and forced to listen to her and her seamstress talk about undertones and matching jewelry and clothes together. 

Daphne held the gold up to herself in the mirror then the silver. “Fuck, you’re right.” 

Draco rolled his eyes. 

“Your mother’s influence, I assume,” she said as she spun around to examine several skirts on the rack. 

“Well, it certainly wasn’t my father’s.” 

“No? He seems the type to know his undertone.” 

Draco snorted, and Daphne flashed him a brilliant smile. 

She was funny, he was realizing. There was a brightness to her that the world should have dimmed with its cruelness, but Daphne seemed determined to outshine that cruelty. Over the last hour, he’d heard about how Daphne’s grandmother and her father didn’t get along and how she didn’t know if she wanted to go to Rio in the New Year or Costa Rica. Daphne was an open book. 

The difference between her and Astoria was like dawn and dusk. Daphne was always bright and chatty, while Astoria was standoffish. While Daphne seemed to care what others thought of her, Astoria couldn’t give a flying hippogriff what anyone said. Despite their differences, they seemed to get along splendidly from what Draco had seen, giggling together at lunch and teasing each other easily. It made Draco wonder what having a sibling would be like — what the ease and camaraderie would feel like. 

“So, you’re avoiding my sister.”

Draco’s head snapped toward Daphne, but she was still examining the rack of skirts. 

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“You wouldn’t? You seem determined to ignore her at the past few social events, and you’ve barely spoken to her on this trip.” Daphne glanced at him over her shoulder, blonde hair falling around her face. There was no judgement in her eyes, just curiosity. Yet another marked difference between her and her sister. 

“Your sister is perplexing,” Draco said instead of answering her question. 

And that was the truth of it. Astoria had so many layers to her that Draco never thought he’d make it to the center of who she truly was. Then there was Venice. Even after their conversation last night and the promise of another conversation tonight, Draco still couldn’t make himself let go of what had happened. He wasn’t a forgiving person by nature, and this was no exception. 

Daphne hummed. “She is . . . special. Too good for this world.” Too good for him, he thought she meant. “I would not want to see her hurt.” 

“I don’t think your sister would give anyone the power to hurt her.” 

Daphne only laughed in response. 

#

That night, Draco and Astoria established their routine. He would go to bed, toss and turn until he couldn’t stand Theo’s unnatural stillness, and then make his way out to the balcony where he would find Astoria, with a cigarette in hand. They ended up sitting on the edges of their seats facing each other with their knees brushing. Draco could smell the Mary Jane every time she exhaled above them. 

“Why’d you start smoking?” he asked. They continued the game. Though Draco had been reluctant to answer her questions, he was curious about her, trying to get to the center of what made her tick. And she never asked anything that made him pass on a question; always things about him, like where he liked to vacation most, what his favorite dessert was, why he’d been such an asshole in school. That last one had been tongue in cheek. 

But there were barbs in his words. Pansy and Blaise’s wedding had been brought up at dinner earlier. Very innocent really. Flint had asked about the wedding, and Daphne had started talking about it in minute detail with several sarcastic remarks from Astoria. During the whole conversation, Astoria’s eyes had kept sliding towards him, like she was trying to figure out what was going through his mind. Draco had left a bored expression on his face. If living with Death Eaters had taught him anything, it was how to wear a mask. 

Astoria took a long drag before answering. “I was in . . . a very bad place after the war. It was hard for me to function sometimes. So, I got weed. It helped a little. At least I could function and if I needed a boost.” She put the cigarette to her lips and inhaled. “That’s all there was to it.” 

Draco nodded. 

“Why’d you take the Mark?” 

Draco thought about passing, about brushing off the brutalness of the question and trying for something lighthearted. Astoria might let him, judging by her kind eyes and the gentle turn of her lips. 

“I wanted to,” he said simply. “I wanted to make my father proud. My aunt as well. It was everything I’d grown up with.” Everything that he’d always been taught would bring him greatness. “I thought if my father was in Azkaban and my family’s reputation was in shambles then taking the Mark would be the first step to fixing it. I thought . . . I thought I could show the Dark Lord how valuable I was.” Instead, he’d been left with a shattered heart and a manor full of ghosts. 

Astoria glanced away from him, her lip caught between her teeth. This was the part where she told him he should have known better, should have been smarter, should have seen that it was all a set up from the beginning. He braced himself for it, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the edge of his lounge chair. 

“I’m sorry,” she said. It was the same thing she’d said when they had talked at the Goyle ball eons ago. No one had ever apologized for what he’d gone through; most people thought he brought it on himself. 

Draco relaxed his grip slightly. If she was going to ask hard hitting questions like that, then he would do the same. Fair was fair, after all. 

“Why’d you leave the Zabini wedding early?” 

He could see her stiffen instantly. It was like he found her Pandora’s box, the one thing he wanted to desperately open, but she kept under lock and key. They’d been at the game for an hour or so, and she hadn’t used a pass yet. Draco thought she might use it now. 

Then, “I was sick. Dizzy. Lightheaded. That’s all.” 

It seemed too simple an answer, too calculated. 

“Dizzy?” he said. “That seems a bit anticlimactic for how quickly you ran away.” 

She returned her gaze to him then, outrage clearly painted on her face. “Well, I’m sorry my bout of dizziness wasn’t climatic enough for you. Next time, I’ll let myself faint in your arms, would that make you happy?” Her eyes were blazing now as she swung her legs over the edge of the lounge chair. “Then you can be the charming gentleman who caused the delicate lady to swoon?” 

Anger eddied through him, causing his grip on the chair to tighten again. She was being condescending, and perhaps with good reason. However, she had started this game, and she had chosen to answer the question. If she didn’t like being pressed, then she should never have answered the question.

“No,” he snapped. “I would like to know why you left me after I offered you a goldmine of information on the Dark Lord to feed your morbid fascination with him.” 

Hurt shot across her face before it was quickly washed away. 

“I was never fascinated with him,” she said. Then her question hit him like a hex. “Why don’t you say his name? Are you still that scared of him?” 

Draco leaned away from her like she stung him. She spoke as if it were easy, forgetting all the terror that the Dark Lord had instilled in his followers. Even his most loyal Death Eaters were not safe. He’d seen Aunt Bella come home with her eyes dull and bruises forming on her pale skin after a rough night. While the Dark Lord might be gone, the scars he left remained. 

“I can’t just . . . say his name,” Draco said, his gaze on the sky suddenly as Astoria siphoned the truth out of him. She was brave and clever; she would think less of him for his reasoning. “He was . . . more brutal than you could imagine. I’d prefer to forget he even existed.” 

“But you can’t let him have that power over you,” Astoria said fiercely. As she leaned toward him, jasmine filled his senses, and Draco dropped his eyes back to hers. “If you refuse to say his name out of fear or anger, you give him power, even from the grave. Voldemort is gone, and he is not coming back.” 

Draco flinched when she said his name. There was nothing else for it. In time, he might be able to hear it and not bat an eyelash, but he didn’t think he’d ever be able to say it. Instead of answering, Draco turned his face toward the stars. He could spot Orion’s Belt and Cassiopeia. The stars seemed so far removed from all their worries, like they were too busy shining brightly to really have any problems. If Draco were a star, he imagined his problems would be miniscule as well. 

Astoria sighed loudly, pulling Draco’s attention back to her. “I can’t figure you out.” 

Draco laughed bitterly. “Well, I can’t figure you out either.” 

She smiled at him and leaned forward like she might tell him a secret. “Perhaps we are both far more complicated than either of us imagined.” 

“Perhaps.”

Astoria’s eyes were glittering with mischief now, casting a youthful glow over her face. Even the dark circles couldn’t take away from that. It was that mischief that had Draco leaning forward and pressing his lips to hers. They were soft and full against his own, and she tasted like weed. A high set into Draco’s veins, almost like the effects of the weed were transferred from her to him. Only Draco realized she wasn’t kissing him back. 

His whole body went cold. Quickly, he pushed himself away from her, an apology already forming on his lips along with a cutting insult. Astoria caught the collar of his shirt, holding him within an inch of herself. Her breath danced across his lips, a teasing reminder of the kiss he had just given her. When their eyes meant, Draco was tempted to press his lips back to hers, just so he could have one last taste of her. 

“I-”

“Don’t,” she interrupted. Then she softly kissed him. It wasn’t rushed or forceful like his had been. It was simple, honest. When she pulled away from him, she let his collar go and stood up. Draco was too stunned to stop her. “I’ll see you in the morning, Draco.” 

Then she was gone, disappearing through the sliding door. 

#

When Draco and his family came to Athens, they always stopped by Antoni’s, a fabulous restaurant with some of the best cuisine and wine in town. After mentioning it to Daphne, she had insisted that they stop there for supper. It was as phenomenal as always. Theo was delighted to see that they had moussaka with lamb, and Astoria insisted on trying the loukoumades, fried dough topped with honey and nuts. The group topped off their meal with a red blend from Crete that had notes of cinnamon and allspice. 

Draco was listening to Daphne and Theo discuss who would be the next in their group to get married when he felt something brush against his calf. It felt like a foot. Astoria was sitting across from him, wine glass in hand, talking with Flint about Quidditch. When she noticed him examining her, her lips quirked upwards, and she took a sip of her wine. 

They hadn’t discussed the kiss from the previous night, and Draco didn’t want it to ruin their last night together. That kiss stayed with him all through the night and today, though. He was unable to forget how warm she had been against him. It had been a fluke, he had reminded himself to keep from going insane. When she’d kissed him again, Astoria was merely being nice because she was a kind person. After this trip, he would go back to being miserable in Malfoy Manor, and she would continue to rise in the Ministry. There was no place in her life for someone like Draco. 

“Astoria, come help me with a touchup?” Daphne asked as she stood up. Astoria quickly followed her. 

“I’m going to run to the loo as well,” Theo said. 

Then it was just Flint, Draco, and awkward silence. Wonderful. The only time Flint had been cordial with Draco was in his second year when he was handing him a Nimbus 2001. During practice, Flint was brutal, pushing his team to do their worst in order to win the Quidditch Cup. He’d been standoffish outside the pitch, much like he had been this whole vacation. Coldly friendly. Draco wished he’d gone to the bathroom with Theo; anything to be away from Flint’s stormy eyes. 

“You need to stay away from Astoria,” he finally said. 

Draco was so shocked his head snapped toward the older man. “Excuse me?” 

“Stay away from her,” Flint repeated. “You can’t handle being with someone like her.” 

He wasn’t surprised, especially after what he heard on the balcony, but it peeved him that Flint would discuss this topic so openly. They were in a restaurant, for fuck’s sake. Theo or the girls could easily walk back to the table and overhear their conversation. 

“And what is that supposed to mean?” Draco demanded.

“Just what I said,” he replied. “You couldn’t handle it. Besides, Astoria wants a career in politics, and she can’t have dead weight like you dragging her down.” 

Draco’s temper flared. “And you aren’t dead weight?” 

Flint smirked. “I’m only her cousin, and quite out of the public eye except for my Quidditch coaching career. And no one pays attention to the coaches. People pay attention to romantic entanglements though.” 

Romantic entanglements. Draco had never thought of them in that context. At least not until last night. 

“I don’t need you meddling in my business, Flint,” he snapped. 

“And I don’t need you fucking around my baby cousin’s feelings.” 

“Marcus, we just saw the most delicious looking baklava being served to another table,” Daphne said as she returned to the table. “We have to try it.” 

“It’s just food, Daph,” Astoria laughed. “Calm down.” 

Draco’s temper was flaring in his chest, but instead of offering a snide remark, he grabbed his glass of wine and downed it. Only Flint noticed, his eyes fixed on Draco the whole time. 

#

That night Draco made it out to the balcony before Astoria. It was only slightly chilly out, and he threw on an old button down and black trousers, not bothering to wait until Theo was soundly asleep. Draco had been subjected to enough of his sleep habits to last a lifetime. As he heard the glass door slide open, he looked over his shoulder to see Astoria closing it. She was wearing a pair of dark sleep pants and a tank top, both of which were silk. When she spun around, Draco caught a glimpse of her face. He noticed her eyes first. They were focused on him and slightly narrowed, determination shining there. Her mouth was slightly pinched into a frown. That frown sent a chill down his spine. 

As Draco opened his mouth to ask her what was wrong, she strode toward him quickly. Her warm hands found his shoulders, and she used them to steady herself as she positioned her knees on either side of his thighs. Shock rippled through him. Astoria was going to sit in his lap, he realized. Automatically, his hands found her waist, her skin solid under the soft fabric of her shirt. 

“What are you doing?” he hissed. 

“I want to ask you something, and I thought you’d be more honest this way,” she said as she shimmied around to get comfortable. Draco sincerely hoped that she didn’t brush against anything unseemly. “How many people have you kissed?” 

It was an odd question, which Draco might not have answered if her lips were not within inches from his own. She smelled sweet and spicy and everything about her was intoxicating. He had the urge to freeze this moment so he could feel her warmth against him, know what it was like to have her breath fanning against his face, memorize the curiosity painted in her irises. 

“Enough,” he answered roughly, his voice dropping an octave. 

“Good,” she said. 

Then her lips were pressing against his own, more insistent than the night before. Though he knew it was coming, surprise still snaked through him, his hands blindly clinging to her shirt. Astoria was fine wine, rich and tart and revealing more flavors to him the more he tasted of her. Unsure of what she would allow him to do, he put all his energy into pressing his mouth against her own. Her lips were soft but urgent, and he tried his best to keep up, but he felt like he was drowning in her. Astoria was consuming him with her pretty gasps, her sweet smell, and her soft lips. 

She asked him how many people he’d kissed, and now Draco was wondering how many people she’d kissed. It was clear she’d done this before by the way she was pressing herself against him in all the right ways. Draco had only kissed a handful of girls — Pansy, Tracey Davis, and some other Slytherins. He’d been intimate with even fewer of them.

She detached her lips from his mouth and started a trail of sucking kisses down his neck. 

Draco had to force himself not to let out the most obscene moan. 

“Why haven’t we been doing this the whole trip?” Astoria asked breathlessly. 

Draco groaned and tugged her closer to him. He could have had four nights of this endless bliss. Instead of responding, he pressed his lips against her neck, delighted at the feel of delicate skin. Dropping her head back, Astoria gasped and clutched at his shoulders. This was the only way he could stop her smart mouth apparently, and he was not in the least bit upset about that. 

Sliding his hand between her shoulder blades, Draco held her firmly while his lips continued downward. Gently, he swept his lips down to her collarbone, found the skin between her collarbone and shoulder, and bit down lightly. The smooth tips of her hair brushed against his hands, and Draco had to fight the urge to tangle his fingers in it. His other kisses had never felt like this. He had been attracted to the other girls, of course, but it was always physical. It was more about what he wanted and what those girls could offer him. With Astoria, it was more intense, more emotional. He wanted to please her, not just himself. 

Astoria dunked her head and caught his lips again. This time, Draco was unable to hold back his moan, his hands grasping the nape of her neck. She turned gentle slowly, pressing her swollen lips tenderly against his own until they settled into a languid rhythm. Finally, she rested her forehead against his own, sharing the same breath as him. 

This was what peace felt like, he realized. Quiet, Astoria’s fingers desperately clutching the collar of his shirt, his fingers brushing the edges of her jawline. Even before the war, he had never felt like this – had never been so content to sit in silence, sharing the same breath as another human being, and soaking in the glow of their presence. Draco thought he might like to live in this moment forever.

“Are you going to spend the New Year with your parents?” she asked finally. 

Draco meant her eyes and saw calm there for the first time. He thought maybe this was his favorite version of her. 

“Yes,” he said. 

“I see.” Astoria tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “Shame we won’t be doing more of this.” 

“We won’t?” Disappointment colored his question.

She traced her fingertip over the top button of his shirt. “I don’t think so. You’ll go back to your manor and your self-imposed exile, and I’ll return to work and people who highly dislike you.”

Draco’s eyes narrowed. “Who?”

“Harry strongly warned me against coming on this trip if you were going to be here,” Astoria said with a grin. “He said you can’t be trusted.”

Draco scuffed. “Potter is a shithead with no taste. You shouldn’t listen to him.” 

She laughed then. “That still leaves your self-imposed exile from society.” 

Draco looked up at the sky, highly annoyed that she was right. Though he ventured into Diagon occasionally, he stayed on the manor grounds for the most part. It was far easier to come to foreign countries where very few people knew him and his reputation. Then he could be just another member of wizarding society and not a former Death Eater. 

“You go back to work after the New Year?” 

Astoria hummed. 

“That’s a week away.” 

“I know.” 

“The French Alps are beautiful this time of year.”

“Are they? Daphne chose Athens. It’s more of a summer vacation spot. She’s terrible at planning vacations.” There was a pause. “I think I’d like to see the French Alps.”

“As would I.” 

Quick as a flash, Astoria was climbing out of his lap, and Draco was following her into the flat. Gently, he closed the door behind him and slipped into his shared room. Theo was sleeping, his back facing the door. Draco rolled his eyes. If he had to share a room again, he would sleep on the floor in the living room. A quick spell had all his clothes flying into his luggage. After he tugged on a black coat, he reached for the door to his room. 

“Where are you going?” 

Draco spun around to see Theo staring at him, his elbows pressed into the bed. The bastard chose now to wake up? 

“My mother-”

“Don’t lie, Draco,” Theo said, and he had never wanted to strangle a person more. 

“To the French Alps,” he ground out. 

Theo nodded before rolling back over. “Tell Astoria not to break her neck if she goes skiing.” 

Draco ground his teeth and cursed his bad luck. Then he stepped out into the living room. Astoria was closing the door to her room, her own suitcase floating behind her. She’d changed out of the sleep clothes she had on previously. Now she was wearing a pair of high-waisted black trousers and a fuzzy green jumper. Her hands were wrapped in black gloves, sporting little gold buttons on the ends. Her hair was still slightly messy from earlier, but her eyes were bright with excitement. 

“The French Alps?”

Draco nodded. “Yes, I know a place.”

He slid his hand into hers and then they were gone. 

[thefootnotes]

hullo

i'm akeyla, a pansexual nonbinary (they/them) with a constant feeling of social injustice and a slight addiction to ao3

doesanyonehearrunningwotah is my ao3, on which i'm chronically online

i'm a teenager so please behave yourselves fgs

will be reblogging anything that satisfies my 1d obsession adoration and posting excerpts/updates on my fanfictions so

my pinterest is @akeylaaaaa

ISTP-T

Australian Central (GMT+10:30)

masterlists below the cut :)

---

fandoms

one direction/solo

hamilton

rwrb

noah kahan

marauders (not hp. m a r a u d e r s.)

sabrina carpenter

conan gray

olivia rodrigo

5sos

billie eilish + finneas

taylor swift

ed sheeran

we three

morgan wallen

kelsea ballerini

doctor who

---

tags:

#alex my love❤ - all conversations with or about my brilliant partner #bloggy stuff - blog stuff #rebloggy stuff - reblog stuff #ask answered - asks #masterpost - this post, and all ficfest, challenge, etc. masterposts #personal - personal stuff

all other tags are a given (taylor swift, one direction) and used erratically and unusually, so.

---

masterposts:

2023/24 writing schedule

Whumptober Masterpost

Whumpuary Masterpost

---

complete original pieces:

none yet. watch this space.

---

original WIPs:

letters from my bedroom floor (ongoing poetry compilation)

more soon. watch this space.

--- complete fanfictions:

underneath the mistletoe (larry stylinson christmas au)

tear away my tattoos (larry stylinson break-up au)

just for a moment (larry stylinson break-up au)

grey hairs (larry stylinson old age au)

greatest fear (larry stylinson 1D reunion au)

hold on (larry stylinson multichap mental health au)

orange juice (larry stylinson multichap break-up au)

gone (louis centric multichap zayn's death au)

whumptober 2023 collection- masterpost here.

--- fanfiction WIPs/upcoming

WRITING SCHEDULE 2023/24

caffeine factor (ziam mayne, hurt-but-mostly-comfort coffee shop au) (multichap, some chapters published)

words hurt (larry stylinson hurt-comfort high school au) (multichap, upcoming)

it’s time to go (larry stylinson, hurt-with-a-little-comfort au) (multichap, upcoming) (will rename)

haven't you ever been in love before (larry stylinson hurt-comfort uni au) (multichap, upcoming)

meet you in the future (larry stylinson fantasy/sci-fi au) (multichap, upcoming)

eccedentesiast (larry stylinson hurt-comfort au) (one-shot, upcoming)

if we never met (larry stylinson fight au) (one shot, upcoming)

come back (larry stylinson multichap mental health au) (sequel to hold on) (upcoming)

grief unites (larry stylinson hurt-comfort au) (multichap, upcoming) (probably will rename)

dream (larry stylinson solo louis angsty au) (multichap, upcoming) (will rename)

love is an open door (larry stylinson-family fluff) (one shot, upcoming)

2011 (larry stylinson hurt-comfort au) (one shot, upcoming)

---

writing request masterlist

i write mostly romance, heavy on the angst, but i'm pretty open to anything, just read through this first <3

i won't write non-con, it's just a huge no. i won't write romanticized abuse, incest or p3d0ph1lia either - including teacher-student relationships, step siblings, or those weird fics where the twins are in a poly relationship with a third party?? like no you sick fcks oml. or those overromanticised fics where they have feelings for each other as kids??? nopity nope. children. don't. have. romantic. relationships. i shouldn't even have to say it. anything below secondary is just no.

i don't write omegaverse, you do you but it's a no from me. i don't write y/n or x reader fics, just not my vibe.

oh i also don't write fanfictions where the larry stunts (danielle, eleanor, taylor, caroline, kendall, whoever it may be) are like, villains? no thank you.

(also side note caroline flack didn't do anything illegal or wrong, even if you think it's kinda gross. the age of consent in both the UK and most of the US is 16 therefore harry was legally able to consent and she was not responsible for anything you frown upon in that whole situation.)

--- asks

ask whatever, just be respectful. or don't. anon hate is fun to debate tbh.

---

as for this entire thing; i may have copied it from my brilliant partner and my writing inspiration - @youreverydaydemikid

speaking of which, if you see the tag "alex my love❤" that means its me talking to or about said partner!!

[meabh-mcinness]

Its almost christmas! How are you doing?

I'm alright! I submitted my last final this morning and I've passed at least three out of five classes! With any luck I'll have passed the last two as well though I'm pretty iffy on them.

For someone whose major is Bio I'm not too good at it. From a cellular standpoint at least. It's a good thing I just want to dig up bones lol.

On the plus side though, with finals now officially over I can focus on fics again for the next monthish! I'm almost down with Cost of Love, the first chapter of Devi Stage, and I'm still slowly but surely making my way to the ends of Found Love and Queen B*tch, along with starting several others! It's hopefully going to be a ficfest!

How're you doing with this time of year? I hope it's well!

[sunnybimbo]

@bears-again​ ʕ•ᴥ•ʔʕ•ᴥ•ʔʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

MERRY CHRISTMAS BEARS!!!!! i wrote this for you c’: based off of THIS post you made a little while ago, so I hope that’s okay!!!

Brief Summary: Keith twists his ankle, so Hunk carries him around for a little while.

Also available on AO3!

Keith grumbled something under his breath, arms crossing over his chest. He was full-blown pouting where he sat on the couch, and Hunk tried to get control of the smile trying to stretch his lips as he wandered over.

"What's up, shortcake?" Hunk sat on the couch beside him, sliding one of his arms around Keith's shoulders to pull him close.

At the dorky pet name (which Keith admitted aloud to Hunk and Hunk alone that he actually loved), Keith hid his reddening face against Hunk's neck. "I'm bored."

He hadn't been permitted to leave the couch since he'd twisted his ankle. It wasn't a serious injury, but Hunk didn't want him to exacerbate it further. Knowing Keith, he'd probably ignore the pain for a while so he could do what he wanted, so Hunk made sure to keep a close eye on him at all times.

Hunk tapped a thoughtful finger against his chin. "What do you want to do?"

"I don't know. Something." Keith moped. If he were anyone else, he'd probably be sprawled out across all three couch cushions with a dramatic arm over his eyes.

He did look miserable, though, and Hunk couldn't let that stand. So, he nodded very thoughtful at Keith's words, stood from the couch, and crouched in front of him, facing in the opposite direction. He held his hands out behind him, gesturing towards the door with a jerk of his chin.

"Let's go, then." He grinned.

Keith took a second, eyebrows shooting up as he realized what Hunk was telling him to do. His mouth opened as if he were going to argue, but his head tilted at the last second as if his brain had supplied enough argument against it. His cheeks dusted a cute pink and Hunk suppressed a laugh as Keith slowly slid from the couch cushions and into Hunk's hold, fingers gripping tight around Hunk's shoulders.

He stood up, slow so that Keith could find his balance. He was careful not to injure his foot— the one with an icepack that had been secured to his injured ankle with more gauze than it needed— even further than it already was.

Hunk waited a beat until he felt Keith duck his head down to press it against his back. He could almost feel the heat radiating off of him from his blush, and it was so endearing that Hunk almost couldn't stand it.

He carried Keith to the kitchen, where they both were surprised to find the other 3/5ths of their team dawdling around, snacking on a basket of goodies that Hunk had cooked up the day prior.

Lance took one look at the two of them before he tossed his hands up in the air. "There they go again." He griped, exaggeratedly rolling his eyes.

Shiro shushed him with a gentle nudge, though he did fondly shake his head at them, as if he were silently pleased with their PDA. He nibbled on half a cookie that Hunk vaguely remembered trying to make taste like chocolate.

The other half was in Pidge's grip, and she waggled her eyebrows at Keith when he looked up and accidentally caught her eye. "Off to the honeymooner's suite?" She asked, shoving the cookie whole (or— half?) into her mouth. Crumbs spilled around her lips, which she quickly dusted onto the floor.

Lance huffed at her, flicking a balled up napkin at her head. "Who's gonna have to clean up that mess, tiny?"

Pidge threw the napkin back, socking him right between the eyes. "You, beanpole."

Hunk evacuated with Keith before the two could start a full blown napkin-snowball battle. He silently sent up a prayer for Shiro, though, who no-doubt would get caught in the crossfire.

Instead, he wandered to the hangars.  Maybe they could sit around with their Lions— or Hunk could drive Keith around in Yellow so he didn't feel as restless.

Keith had relaxed his grip so it wasn't digging so painfully into Hunk's shoulders, and instead he moved to circle his arms around Hunk's front in a loose hug.

When the doors to the hangars slid open, though, they were greeted with Allura and Coran, running some sort of diagnostic.

Allura noticed them first, a welder's mask on her face to protect her as she shoved a blowtorch inside of the Black Lion's paw. As she clicked it off, she offered them a wave, but it was Coran that spoke first.

He hopped off of Black's maw, and both Keith and Hunk shouted as he did, horrified. However he was saved by the bungee cord he had wrapped around his waist, landing without a sweat or a blink.

"Why hello there, paladins! Come to join us on our reparative journey?" Coran gestured vaguely to the Lions that sat in a comfortable semi-circle around them.

Hunk eyed Yellow, who had nearly a dozen panels taken off and laid to the side. He didn't think he'd be getting a chance to ride around with Keith anytime soon, then. And no way was he going to let Keith try to fly Red.

"We were just stopping by." He said, instead. "Any idea when you guys will be done here?"

Allura flipped up her mask. "Most likely within a few hours, depending on if Black would stop being so picky."

In response, Black lifted the paw that Allura was situated on, nearly jolting her off. Allura huffed loud, and warningly lifted a wrench, though Coran hopped forward to grab it from her before she could do something that would result in getting her squished.

"We'll let you know." Coran offered. "Did you need anything important?"

Hunk glanced back at Keith, who eyed Red critically. As if Coran and Allura would do anything to harm his favorite Lion. "Not really. Let me know if you need any help, though." He offered, but it was quickly waved away.

"Nonsense! Go enjoy your— what was it that Lance called it?" He thumbed his mustache, "Canoodling?"

Both Hunk and Keith flushed red. It wasn't a secret in the slightest that the two had started dating, but it was still a thrilling rush of embarrassment whenever someone brought it up.

They mumbled some sort of vague excuse, and Hunk hightailed out of there.

 ---

 Eventually he just took Keith back to their rooms.

"There isn't much to do on this ship when you really think about it." He mused, carefully backing towards the mattress so that Keith could flop back on it without injuring himself. "Sorry for carrying you around for no reason."

"It's okay." Keith was smiling when he turned around, and Hunk leaned forward to press a kiss against his forehead. It was dark in the room, because he'd forgotten to turn on the lights as he passed by. Keith didn't keep them on automatic, either, but neither really minded the soft darkness.

Hunk sat up, letting his fingers trail down Keith's leg to press against the half-melted bag of ice. "Is your foot okay?"

Keith twisted his ankle around in a careful circle. A blast of pain coursed through his leg when he bent it too far, but he was able to mask his grimace of pain easily. "It'll be fine." He said. Which was true, seeing as he'd done much worse before. To the same ankle, even.

Hunk looked at him, unamused, but he didn't push it. Instead, he laid flat again and pulled Keith close in a gentle hug.

In an attempt to entertain his boyfriend, Hunk racked his brain for some sort of story he could tell.

"Did I ever tell you about the time that I created sentient food goo?"

Keith's head jerked back, a startled laugh escaping his lips. "What?"

Hunk joined in on his laughter, pressing an embarrassed hand over his eyes. "It's a... long story." But he delved into it anyway, marveling in the way Keith was so open with him. He smiled wide the entire time, laughing in that breathy way he laughed until he got a dimple just where his cheek met his lips.

Hunk couldn't even begin to describe how much he loved Keith— his little strawberry shortcake.

[tea-and-procrastination]

I have the pleasure of posting the first in the Berena Twelve Days of Christmas Ficfest! Think of it as a truncated advent calendar: every day between now and Christmas you get a holiday-themed fic prompted (at least loosely) by one of the twelve days, written by @belligerently​, @ddagent​, @ktlsyrtis​, @matildaswan​, @sententiousandbellicose​ or me. I was very excited when Beth asked me to be a part of this, and now I’m even more excited to see what everyone else has written!

So, without further ado, Day One: A Partridge in a Pear Tree.

[adenei]

Maroon

Second and Final Submission for the Debut/Midnights Era of @cruelsummer-ficfest !!

Song: Maroon

Album: Midnights

Ship: Romione

Summary: DH Missing Moment/Slight Canon Divergence. In the darkest days of the mission, Hermione must find a way to move forward, to keep fighting. Ron is gone, but she finds solace in his memories and the smell of his sweater to help her get through the sleepless nights.

And I wake with your memory over me

That's a real fucking legacy to leave

—-

Of all the colors Ron Weasley brought to her life, it’s the reds that stand out the most.

His hair, of course, and the Gryffindor scarlet that dominated so much of their wardrobes over the past six years. The dark pink that starts at his ears and spreads from there when he’s even the least bit embarrassed. The awful burgundy dress robes he wore to the Yule Ball. 

Then there’s the metaphorical reds of anger and affection that she feels for him, sometimes simultaneously. Pretty much always simultaneously since the night he left.

But it’s one particularly technicolor night that haunts her now that he’s gone, leaving nothing behind but a warm woolen jumper and a hole in her heart.

Harry had already gone to bed, so it was just the two of them, alone in the drawing room of Grimmauld Place playing an ill-advised drinking game with a cheap bottle of Muggle wine that Seamus had gotten from Merlin-knew-where, that had somehow made it home in Ron’s trunk and then somehow into the beaded bag Hermione had packed for the mission. 

There were any number of more productive things they could have been doing instead, but planning for the Ministry break-in had stalled, and Hermione wanted to think about something else for a night. Anything else. And Ron had suggested a game.

They were sitting on the floor—neither of them could quite articulate how that had happened either, though Hermione suspected the rosé—and she had plopped her feet into his lap about three drinks ago, when she was already about three drinks beyond caring how the gesture would be perceived.

Ron’s thumb had managed to find the one sliver of skin that was exposed on Hermione’s ankle between the top of her socks and the bottom of her leggings, and the rhythmic caress as he pondered his next challenge had lit every nerve ending in her body on fire.

“Okay, would you rather…have detention with Snape every day for a month, or spend every Christmas with Filch for the next five years?” Hermione shook her head and emptied her glass, an obnoxious crystal goblet with the Black family crest that they’d pulled out of a cupboard for the occasion, and Ron laughed at her response. “You can’t just drink on every question.”

“Sure I can,” Hermione argued. “It’s right there in the rules.”

“You and your damn rules.”

Ron took a swig straight from the bottle before reaching over to give Hermione a refill. He poured until the frosty pink liquid sloshed over the rim of Hermione’s cup and splashed onto her t-shirt. “Shit, I’m sorry.” Ron made a quick grab for his wand and aimed it at the wet spot, but paused as he took her in. “Is that my shirt?”

Hermione smirked. “I stole it from you in fifth year, and you’ve just now noticed?” The golden yellow Gryffindor Quidditch shirt couldn’t have fit him for more than a week after he got it, as fast as he was growing that year, and she’d had no qualms about taking it from his trunk.

“Is this a habit you have, then?” Ron asked with a laugh as he siphoned up the wine with his wand. “Stealing my clothes?”

“Maybe. Is that a problem?”

Their eyes locked and the teasing mood faded as Hermione realized just how close they were. She caught the flicker of Ron’s gaze to her lips just an instant before he leaned in and kissed her.

There had been no extravagant declarations of love, no other outward displays of affection before or since. Only an understanding that had developed over the months since Ron’s poisoning that their feelings were reciprocated, and that said feelings would have to wait until after the mission. But what good was constant mortal peril if it didn’t challenge them to be young and dumb and reckless just once?

Their lips met in a frenzy and their hands roamed as if they wanted to devour each other while they had the chance. Instinct told her this would be their only opportunity to be like this, at least for a while.

If only she had known how true that would turn out to be.

Hermione tosses over in her bunk, unable to sleep despite her constant state of exhaustion. She lights her wand and looks down at the burgundy splotch on her shirt, the only physical reminder she has of that night. She would almost think she had dreamed it, if not for a stubborn wine stain that they had been too preoccupied to treat in the moment.

There are spells she could use to get rid of it, even now, but at this point, she cherishes the color, and what it reminds her of. A shiver travels down her spine, and she plucks Ron’s jumper from the end of the bed where she tossed it earlier, pulling it on for the meager comfort it provides in his absence. The whole world’s been black and white without him.

Well, black and white and maroon.

[belligerently]

On the eleventh day of Christmas, my true love gave to me Eleven Pipers Piping

A Christmas Carol in prose, being a ghost story of Christmas. This timeworn tale of Serena Campbell and how her own disappointments in life shape her view that life is not worthy of her notice or concern. But this curmudgeonly gentlewoman is about to get her comeuppance when she is visited by the ghosts of Christmas past, present, and future.

[startanewdream]

For the Hinny Ficfest lovely organized by @clarensjoy, here’s the second drabble set during Christmas of Year 6, with Harry doing some good old pining.

70. "Mum thinks I'm dating you" (and Harry wishes she was right)

Ginny throws herself on the cnouch next to Harry, eyes closed. Harry tries not to show any reaction, though it’s hard — her presence comes with that intoxicating flowery scent and he can’t help but inhale deeply, even as he keeps his gaze forward. He doesn’t need to turn to her anyway — he’s been stealing glances in her direction all day, enjoying the contrast between her new dark green sweater and her flaming red hair, or the flush that came to the cream colour of her skin as she had worked on her broomstick all afternoon.

‘Mum thinks we are dating’, she announces, making him jump.

Harry turns to look at her now, surprise flashing upon his face.

‘W-what?’, he splutters, feeling his face reddening. Ginny is smirking, amused, though Harry doesn’t know if it is because of his reaction or because of her mother’s wrong idea.

Harry wishes Mrs. Weasley was correct on that assumption, but alas he is not the one who gets to say he is dating Ginny.

'Secretly dating, mind you. Very naughty of us'.

'I — we —', Harry stops, his brain frozen at the idea of dating Ginny and "naughty" in the same context. He forces himself to breath, which, with her perfume in the air, does nothing to help him clear his mind. 'How come?'

‘She saw your Christmas gift’, Ginny explains. Harry gulps, unsure.

‘I didn’t - I’m sorry if - I wasn’t -’

‘Harry’, Ginny interrupts him, smiling kinder now. ‘You did nothing wrong. I loved that Broomstick Servicing Kit, I truly needed one’.

Harry nods now; Ginny had already thanked him for that gift, beaming at him before breakfast, and Harry had felt relieved. He had spent hours thinking of what to give her for Christmas, not daring to ask for Ron or Hermione’s help, until he ended up choosing something that was not too intimate but also useful. Ginny loved Quidditch more than anyone he knew, so he had figured out she would like a gift about it.

‘It’s my fault’, she adds distractedly. ‘I kept talking to Dad about your gift and how it was my favourite, but I also had to defend Dean’s gift to Ron this morning, and somehow Mum thought that my boyfriend had give me this kit, so -’

‘So she thought I was your boyfriend’, Harry summarizes, forcing the grimace on his face to look more like a smile, as if he thinks the whole situation is just funny and not miserable.

Ginny shrugs. ‘It’s kind of my fault, I guess. I wasn’t exactly showing off the gift Dean gave me’.

‘What it was?’

She sighs. ‘A ring’.

He feels his mouth drying. ‘Ring? Like a -’

‘No, no engagement or a promise ring’, she adds hurriedly, with a panic on her face that somehow calms Harry. ‘Just a normal cute ring, but — it’s not really my thing. Jewels. Especially not rings, they make me feel —’

‘Constricted’, he guesses. Ginny raises one eyebrow. ‘Same as you don’t like to wear scarves or you always let the first button of your shirt open’.

There is a short silence. Harry suddenly feels embarrassed — maybe he said too much? (Maybe Ginny realized he has stared at her neckline too much?)— but after a while she just nods.

‘Yeah, well. I explained to Mum that you aren’t my boyfriend, but I’m not sure she believed me — she had this weird thought’.

‘What thought?’

‘That we’ve been together a lot’.

‘Well’, Harry starts, hoping to sound reasonable and not as if he needs to reinforce to Ginny all the reasons they would work together. ‘That’s true. More than before. We spent a lot of time together during summer’.

It’s not hard to remember all those afternoons he spent with Ginny alone in the orchards, flying with her, long after Ron and Hermione had retired back to the Burrow; or those early mornings when they went for a run that often than not would turn into a stroll as they just talked about anything on their minds.

Harry wishes he had known better then to truly appreciate those moments with Ginny — perhaps things could be different between them if only he wasn’t so oblivious…

‘We are friends’, Ginny notes. Harry sighs heavily, facing front again.

‘That’s us. Friends’.

‘Can you imagine how she would react if we were dating?’, asks Ginny, her voice inviting him to share the joke with him.

Harry knows what she is teasing about and he knows he should just laugh at the idea of how Mrs. Weasley would fuss at the idea of Harry dating her young daughter, or how she might treat them like Bill and Fleur and suddenly get worried about the idea of them spending time together alone.

But none of it looks bad. Mrs. Weasley’s happiness of them being together would be nothing like the happiness that Harry thinks he would feel if Ginny returned his feelings; he imagines holding hands with her during this winter break, ending their Quidditch discussions with a snogging session in the broom shed or meeting her for sharing a chocolate and a good night kiss in the kitchen.

And yet she looks at him now so friendly and teasingly that this dream seems very far away.

‘It wouldn’t be the worst thing’, he says, avoiding her eyes, and not saying what he really wants: he would endure anything, including Mrs. Weasley’s tearful happiness and limits and the twins’ jokes if only he got the chance of dating Ginny and all that comes with it.

Ginny stays silent, though, and Harry wonders if he said something wrong, or, worse, if she understood exactly what’s on his mind. She always had a knack for seeing through him —

But Ginny laughs after a moment. ‘It wouldn’t’, she agrees, her voice light, raising and patting him in the shoulder. ‘But you wouldn’t be that lucky’.

He is gone before he can answer her, but for once he doesn’t mind, thinking about what she said. Lucky — and he happens to have a lucky potion on his truck right now. Hum… maybe he only needs a little drop of luck...

[runningtwiceasfast]

I’ve Never Not Wanted You

This is my contribution to the Hinny Ficfest organized by the wonderful @clarensjoy - Thank you for organizing and for the fantastic contributions. I haven’t published a fic in awhile and this one is very not proofread and rough but I wanted desperately to contribute something. I hope you don’t mind this one is under the wire! Eventually I will post a cleaned up version on AO3, but in the meantime I hope you enjoy!

Prompt: “I’ve never not wanted you”

“You have to come to dinner tonight. Mum has invited another suitor and we are all going to want to watch the bloodbath.” Ron’s mouth was full of curry, so it was hard to make out exactly what he meant, but the gist was an invite for dinner.

Harry scowled in response and pushed his food away from him, suddenly having lost his appetite.

“When will Molly stop? After Ginny has killed someone?”

Ron gave a barking laugh. “Maybe. It’s hard to stop a determined Weasley though.”

“So, who is more determined? Molly to marry Ginny off or Ginny to resist?” Harry wondered out loud, still staring at his noodles as if they had offended him.

Shrugging, Ron reached over and helped himself to Harry’s discarded lunch. “Mum just wants Ginny to be happy. Wizards marry pretty young in our world and everyone else has mostly coupled off,” Ron pointed his chopsticks at Harry. “Well, except you mate.”

Harry frowned.

“I’ve been busy,” he finally said, and Ron gave a series of nods.

“Of course. Ridding the world of unstoppable evil and what not. I’m sure that’s why Mum is focused on Ginny and not you.”

“That’s a bit of a double standard, isn’t it?” Harry asked, irritated at the way the conversation had changed. The last thing he wanted to talk about was his sorry dating life. Or Ginny’s for that matter.

“The entire wizarding world is a double standard innit? Best to just make the best to just make the best of it and enjoy the show.”

Harry merely gave a small noise of assent, turning back to his noodles to find them completely gone. He looked up at Ron’s sheepish look.

“I thought you were done.”

_*_*_*_*_*_*_

Avoiding the floo network entirely, Harry opted to apparate to the Burrow, pausing outside the familiar door to collect his thoughts.

Using his free hand, he smoothed down his shirt and jeans, his other hand grasping the bottle of red wine Arthur had mentioned he liked the last time they had dined together at Grimmauld Place. He rose his hand to knock, but the door swung open before his fist even made contact.

“Harry! You’ve come to save me!” Harry was rather unprepared for the sight of Ginny, fresh faced and beautiful, greeting him at the door and found himself unable to say much of anything other than a grumbled hello as he shoved the bottle of wine at her.

She was wearing a simple black cotton dress that hugged her waist and flared out at the bottom. Her hair was down and bouncing around her shoulders. He gestured stupidly at his ears.

“You are wearing the earrings.”

She gave a tinkling laugh and pushed her hair behind her ear so he could see more clearly the diamond studs that he had given her last Christmas. “I’ve practically never taken them off. They are gorgeous. Probably one of the best gifts I’ve ever gotten.” She smiled at him sincerely and he felt his heart rate accelerate uncomfortably.

“I’m glad you like them so much.” He smiled back at her and they remained that way, smiling at each other silently before Ginny was called rather abruptly from the other room.

She gave a grimace in response. “She’s invited Ernie Macmillan over can you believe it? Him and Hermione are currently fighting over some horribly boring historical fact in the other room and she expects me to marry this man?” She rolled her eyes and Harry gave a weak laugh in response.

Learning up, she gave him a light kiss on the cheek, her hand resting on his arm. “It’s so lovely to see you, Harry. Please feel free to rescue me from inane conversation as you see fit.”

She floated away and he stood there struck rather dumb for a few moments.

Following the trail of voices from the entryway, Harry entered the living area to various greetings. It appeared he was one of the last to arrive and he grabbed a butterbeer and joined in where Ron and George were huddled together by the fireplace.

“I think the formula is off. People shouldn’t be incapacitated. Just unconscious for a short while.”

George shook his head. “They are fine if you just poke them—Harry! You’ve come to join us!” George gave him a broad smile that Harry couldn’t help but reciprocate.

“Is this for something you’ve already invented, or you have created something else to wreak havoc on the wizarding public?”

“Harry my dear boy, I’m not sure why it can’t be both,” George said sincerely causing Harry to snort into his bottle.

Ginny’s laughter brought their attention to where she was standing in the center of the room with Ernie.

Ron frowned. “Maybe mum actually found a winner.”

They watched as Ginny laughed again at something Ernie said, her hand placed on his arm.

“Apparently he works with Percy. Probably in the Department of who has the biggest stick up their arse,” George laughed to himself.

Harry frowned as he watched Ernie with his patrician features and pedigree push a tendril of crimson hair behind Ginny’s ear causing her to blush.

“What did that bottle do to you mate?” Ron joked and Harry looked down at the tight grip he was maintaining on his butterbeer. He loosened his grip and stretched his fingers.

Molly’s appearance in the room quieted most conversations as she herded everyone into the dining area where amazing smells were wafting. It required gymnastics in order for everyone to get into the magically enhanced room.

“No no Ginny. Don’t sit there. Sit over here by Ernie,” Molly smiled warmly at the tall boy. Ernie smiled back in a way that made Harry’s hand flinch towards his wand, imagining all the new curses he had recently mastered in his second year auror training.

“Mum it took me straining my hop to even get a seat. I’m going to stay right here,” she turned to Harry who suddenly realized how close she was. “You are ok with that right Harry?” Her eyes widened slightly and he managed to cotton on.

“Er yes sorry Molly. Ginny is fine here.” She gave him a brilliant smile and nudged his shoulder with hers.

“I think I’ve lost some of my brain cells.” Harry had to resist flinching as he felt her breath brush his hair as Ginny leaned over and whispered to him.

He gave a tight-lipped smile. “You seemed rather fond of this one,” he whispered in return to her causing her to wave a hand at him dismissively.

“I’m just trying to be nice. If I hex this one she will just bring in someone worse. I heard Malfoy was keen,” she gave a dramatic shiver, her impish smile telling another story.

Harry felt a rush of relief he tried not to analyze. “Molly can keep on bringing by all the unsuitable young men of the English wizarding world if it means I get to sit next to you.” The words are soft and filled with way too much feeling and for one frightening heartbeat he wished he could take them back.

She remained silent, grabbing a dinner roll form the passed tray and fidgeting with it between her hands. “Harry, you shouldn’t say such things to me,” she finally said mildly, refusing to look at him. “I might start getting ideas.”

Impulsively he reached for one of her hands, forcing her to drop the bread. He pulled her hand under the table and squeezed it gently.

They sat with hands clasped under the table, but otherwise ignoring each other, answering direct questions but otherwise staying mostly silent. Harry thought he saw Ginny’s face was rather shiny and he wondered what he looked like. Probably pale white and sickly.

“Ginny, how goes the season? Should I be placing my Harpy’s bets now?” Ernie asked Ginny directly causing her to drop Harry’s hand and inhale shakily.

“Oh, I’m just reserve for now. But a bet on the Harpies is always a safe bet,” Ginny gave a wicked smile causing the table to collectively give a ruckus laugh.

“Ernie, you know Ginny is the youngest reserve chaser in the league,” Molly boasted, and Harry noticed Ginny resist rolling her eyes.

“Mum, I’m so glad you support my career choice now.” The words were biting but the soft look in her eyes made Harry think Ginny actually meant them.

Harry stole a look at Justin. To his disgust the boy was looking at Ginny rather starry eyed. It isn’t like Harry could blame him; a similar look frequently graced his own face.

He was rather sick of it all though. The constant parade of unworthy men being thrust at Ginny.

The rather petulant thought that Molly had never asked him to be one of those unworthy men flew through his brain unhelpfully. Perhaps everyone had given up on the possibility of him and Ginny ever making it work.

They had made it work though. For a few blissful months they had been something new and delicate and untouchable. Frequently Harry thought back to some of those times. Of walks around the school, hands clasped and of breathless goodbyes leaving them both wanting and late for class.

Ever since the war Harry had been trying to pick up the pieces, but it had been hard and often he had found himself rather aimless. Without even realizing it, he had found that he had pulled back on all the ties that bound him-rarely coming by the Burrow, never seeing friends other than around the office and busying himself with work and tracking down rogue Death Eaters.

He had finally looked up and while he had stayed in the same spot, everyone else had moved on. Ron had ditched the aurors and found his calling with George in the joke shop. Hermione had proven herself immensely capable apart from him in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

And Ginny had graduated from Hogwarts and immediately absconded to Harpy training camp.

Unfortunately, in all his chosen one lessons with Dumbledore, the wise wizard had never told him what happens after the bad guy has been slain. What happens to the chosen one when he’s done being chosen?

In this instance it seemed as if Harry was doomed to sit there and watch as everyone he loved moved on without him. Bitterly he looked down at the roast on his plate, moving the discarded pees around with his fork.

“You gonna finish that?” Harry looked up to find he was almost done at the table, Ron leaning over him, fork in hand.

Scowling, Harry pushed his plate towards Ron who tucked in happily. “Ernie left a bit ago,” Ron said, in between bites. Harry’s eyes snapped up at that.

“Why would I care whether or not Ernie had left?” Harry snarked at him, frowning when Ron paused his eating to give Harry a knowing look.

“Either way, Ginny is in the backyard if you want to talk to her,” Ron scooped up some mashed potatoes. “Or not.” He shrugged.

Harry pushed away from the table and paused in front of the living room. He could hear the rest of the Weasley’s making their normal noises and he hesitated before joining, his eyes straying to the backyard where Ron had said Ginny was.

Whatever gravitational pull Ginny had made the decision for him as Harry turned and slipped out the door.

She was silhouetted against the starry sky, the light of the moon reflecting off her hair in a way that made his throat dry. He approached her slowly and she turned at his footsteps, giving him a warm smile.

“I came out to get some fresh air,” she told him unnecessarily and he plopped down next to her, his arm brushing hers. “These family gatherings can be a lot,” she said, her voice so quiet he could barely hear her, but that’s probably more to do with the quick sound of his heartbeat in his ears.

Feeling that same impulsive urge he had felt during dinner that let him hold her hand, he lifted his arm up and over her shoulders. They both froze at the contact, but before he could regret it, she leaned in, setting her head on his shoulder.

“Where did Ernie go?” Harry asked eventually, that familiar monster roaring in his chest.

Ginny leaned even further into his side. “He got an owl, had to go into the office.” Her hair brushed against his neck and he caught a whiff of her comforting flower scent that hadn’t changed since sixth year.

“Did you want him to stay?” He asked her, the darkness giving him some sort of courage.

She shook her head. “Not really. He wasn’t as bad as the other’s, but he’s not really who I want,” she said, voice low and husky.

Finally, she sighed deeply and pulled away, pulling her knees under the skirt of her dress and into her stomach.

“At least he seemed to want me,” she mumbled, and Harry took a deep breath, tired of always waiting for the right moment.

“I’ve never not wanted you, Ginny.”

Amazingly, the words didn’t sound weak or pathetic out loud like they did in his head. Instead, all he felt was relief.

The sound of a sharp intake of breath was the only indication that he had been heard. Summoning his Gryffindor courage, he looked up at Ginny. She was staring at him, eyes wide.

“You want me?” She asked finally, incredulously.

He ran a hand through his hair nervously. “Watching your mum parade those boys in front of you has been a special kind of hell for me Gin. I miss you.” They aren’t the most eloquent words, but they are the ones he had.

“Then why didn’t you say anything, you stupid arse?” Ginny finally spit out and Harry let out a choke of laughter.

“I’m an idiot?” He told her helpfully and she shook her head, a fond smile on her face.

“Can you come closer Harry? I need to smack you,” she laughed, and Harry obliged, scooting back towards her until there was no space between them, his body tingling in anticipation.

“So no more set ups from your mum?” He asked, moving his face toward hers so close he could feel each breath she took, could count the freckles on her face from just the soft light of the stars.

“Harry I can confidently tell you I will no longer let my mum dictate my romantic life from here on out,” she giggled and Harry fought the smile that threatened to climb up his cheeks.

“Harry,” she said, drawing his attention back to her and her lips.

“Yes?”

“I’ve never not wanted you to kiss me,” she said before closing the small gap between them, her soft, sweet lips under his. Suddenly all the pining and scowling became worth it as he rolled them over, her body under his, molding to each other as if reminding him that they’ve done this before.

As he kissed and kissed her, lips trailing down her neck, he sent a silent thank you to whatever work emergency had claimed Ernie’s attention. Tonight and forever Ginny was his. And he set about showing her over and over.

_*_*_*_*_*_*_

“Ernie Macmillan? Really?” Ron took a noisy bite of his biscuit.

“I don’t know what you are talking about, Ronald,” Molly tutted, waiving her wand so the corresponding feather duster would wipe down the windows properly.

“I just want you to know that I know what you did,” Ron shrugged, gesturing out the window Molly was cleaning to where Harry and Ginny were clearly engaged in some unwholesome activities.

Molly smiled at the image the pair made before closing the curtain and turning back towards her youngest son.

“Don’t you have your own home?” He lifted his hands in surrender before leaving the room. Molly watched as he disappeared from view. Really, what was she supposed to do? Let them pine away for each other forever? No, she did the right thing. She did feel a little bad poor Ernie would have to go all the way into work to find that emergency cauldron bottom situation wasn’t quite the emergency that ministry owl had made it seem. But the boy had gotten a home cooked meal for dinner so he surely made out alright.

Smiling one more time to herself, a very satisfied Molly Weasley set about cleaning dishes, brainstorming how she might next get Percy to dinner along with that nice young man Oliver Wood.

[romioneficfest]

2021 Final Masterlist

Greetings fans, readers, voters, and everyone else. The time has come - to close the curtain on the 2021 Romione FicFest. 39 stories were submitted and published by an amazing list of authors.

I wish to thank each and every one of them for their hard work, their courage to hit send, and the fact that they had to keep quiet while awaiting positive feedback for their works. (And if you've held off giving rave reviews on their works, please please please do so now for their benefit. I beseech thee!)

I applaud every single one of you, yes I do.

Every single story submitted has been enjoyed, appreciated, and cherished. The more, the merrier, when it comes to more fic, and more writing.

So, without any further ado,

2021 Masterlist:

Bottom of the Bottle Author: @ballerinaroy Summary:  He’s been searching for the answer in Firewhiskey but it’s never been there.

And I’m in love with every colour of you Author: @ballerinaroy Summary: He fills her rainbow. Every colour is made better because of him.

Before and After Author: @ballerinaroy Summary: It’s hard to remember before.

The Curious Case of the light switch Author: @aprofessionalprotagonist Summary: Why can’t Ron ever turn off a light switch?

Theirs and Ours Author: @voldemorts-tap-shoes Summary: Who knew babysitting 4 kids would make Hermione doubt herself and the future of the Weasley-Granger household?

Thirty Years Author: @ballerinaroy Summary: She’d laid it all out, beginning to end. A whole life, theirs.

Ever so Smart and Clever Author: @arianatwycross-fics Summary: Hermione is visiting Grimmauld Place in her Christmas holidays and Ron has just gotten his results back from an exam at Auror Training.

Dreams Author: @voldemorts-tap-shoes Summary: the line between dreams and reality can sometimes blur in brilliant ways.

Little Unicorn Day Center Author: @voldemorts-tap-shoes Summary:  Hermione Granger runs the Little Unicorn Day Center and meets one of the Dads and is smitten. Is it so wrong to appreciate a charge’s dad?

Mine Author: @accio-broom Summary:  A newborn Hugo refuses to sleep. Can Rose be the answer to the young parents finally getting some sleep?

I Need You Author: @adenei Summary:  A Romione Ficlet inspired by the TV Show New Girl Season 2: Episode 15 “Cooler”

I Knew it would be You Author: @adenei Summary:  Seventh Year AU when Ron and Hermione receive their final Hogwarts letters.

Just a Snog Author: @adenei Summary: 6th Year AU - Ron confronts Hermione immediately following his row with Ginny.

Nice to Meet You Author: @cheesyficwriter Summary: “The moment I first saw her, I knew I was in trouble.” A muggle university AU one-shot featuring Ron/Hermione.

Right Here, Right Now Author: @cheesyficwriter Summary: Ron and Hermione share a tender moment under the stars during the summer following the Battle.

Double Hazelnut Almond Milk Macchiato Author: @be11atrixthestrange Summary: Muggle AU. Hermione Granger is new in town, and she has a pretty complicated coffee order.

Early Morning Light Author: @rafa-rafaelx Summary: Ron and Hermione in the early hours of the morning at Shell Cottage

Warm Author: @honouraryweasley12 Summary: Hermione decides to reconcile with Ron after the poisoning, and learns something interesting.

Pen-Y-Fan Author: @accio-broom Summary: Hermione wakes Ron up crazily early to climb the side of a mountain. Whilst he grumbles at first, he soon discovers that the view is worth it.

Valeria Author: @acnelli Summary: Sometimes someone steps into your life when you least expect it. Ron and Hermione had made a lot of life-changing decisions together, and this is the beginning of another.

The Promise Author: @maggotsstuff Summary: Ron goes missing and Hermione reacts

The Right Decision Author: @adenei Summary: Hermione questions her decision to return to Hogwarts for her seventh year.

Why am I so ugly? Author: @lobster-lost Summary: This takes place in the 6th year when Harry drinks the Felix Felicis potion and “make” Lavender broke up with Ron. He goes out for hours in his missing to pursuit Slughorn. Meanwhile, Ron and Hermione got some time alone.

Sleepy (M Rated) Author: @lobster-lost Summary: This takes place 2 years after the war. Ron and Hermione are together, but as there are not married yet, Mrs. Weasley still prefers them to sleep in separate rooms. The whole family was at the Burrow for Christmas.

Saying the Words Author: @honouraryweasley12 Summary: Ron works up the courage to tell Hermione something important. Then he has to do it again.

Scared of losing You Author: @adenei Summary: Hermione wakes up for the first time not knowing where she is. Fortunately, someone is there by her side.

A Practical Stranger Author: @cheesyficwriter Summary: Hermione receives assistance from someone who may not be as much of a stranger to her as she initially thinks.

 A Little Motivation (M Rated) Author: @lobster-lost Summary: Ron and Hermione share a very intimate moment after a long day of work.

Will they or won’t they Author: @adenei Summary: The last few days have been stressful, what with the recent attack on Mr Weasley. So, Sirius does the last thing he can think of to help the teens relax now that they know Mr Weasley is going to be okay.

Until the very end Author: @cheesyficwriter summary: Hermione and Ron find solace with each other in the days following Malfoy Manor.

The Beholder Author: @acnelli Summary: Hermione is not happy with the way she looks in her new lingerie.

Sod It Author: @adenei Summary: Parks and Rec Crossover from the episode “Smallest Park”. Hermione and Ron are Leslie and Ben. Most of the dialogue is taken from the scene in the episode.

Tutor Girl Author: @accio-broom summary: Inspired by One Tree Hill Season 1 Episode 3 - Are You True?

Defender Author: @honouraryweasley12 Summary: During rounds, Hermione sees something that gives hope.

The Second Gift Author: @adenei Summary: Hermione ponders Ron’s intentions after receiving perfume as her Christmas gift. She makes a hasty decision to attempt to give him something that’s more meaningful than a ridiculous homework planner.

Family Ties Author: @adenei Summary: Hermione learns about the family ties between the Blacks and the Weasleys.

Flutter Author: @adenei summary: Ron can’t sleep because Hermione can’t sleep because Rose can’t sleep.

The Fallen Hero Author: @maggotsstuff Summary: An account of the night of escape from Malfoy Manor by the golden trio from Ron’s POV- Reference DH

Common Ground Author: @voldemorts-tap-shoes Summary: Ron’s first assignment as a Prefect for Hufflepuff is making him a little nervous: Rounds for the evening with Ace student and Ravenclaw’s school Know it All Hermione Granger.

[mizufae]

all these pearl-clutching christians need a nice lesson about pikuach nefesh

i am SO DONE with christmas this year. normally i have shades of jealousy and resignation and even joy and delight in sparkly lights and i love giving presents and having yummy food and stupid tv cooking competitions and dumb christmas ficfests but this year! THIS FUCKING YEAR. it’s all just exhaustion and ANGER. your cute little mediterranean death cult is NOT OPT-OUT this year! jews INVENTED guilt and you’re using it to INFECT YOUR FAMILIES with PLAGUE. just, fuck you, fuck everyone, fuck the whole holiday “season” and while i’m at it fuck jesus