#could you forgive JK Rowling

[some-polls]

Forgiveness for Former Neo-Nazi vs JK Rowling

If JK Rowling apologized to trans people and was trying to make amends, could you forgive her?

If someone had a neo-nazi "phase" as an adult but was sorry for it and was trying to make amends, could you forgive that person?

"Hasn't done anything to forgive" relates to Rowling's public persona, actions, etc. regarding trans people, and relates to the former neo-nazi's time as a neo-nazi.

None of this has anything to do with my personal opinion on either. I'm just trying to see what tumblr thinks.

Reblogs are encouraged and appreciated!

[violet-phoenix-nebula]

I feel a little better now

[amysgoblinhorde]

The Anti-JK Rowling: Praise for TJ Klune

I am going to overshare. I do not apologise for this.

Way back in the mid 1990s, I was I young girl in school and I was badly suffering the years of harassment and abuse by my peers and also by the grown ups who should have cared for me. I was told I brought it on myself by being weird, I was told I was an attention seeker (yes, and can't you hear me cry for help?) and it was actually the lip curling disdain of the teachers that broke me the most.

I began to feel like maybe I did deserve it. I must have been so unpleasant, so hideous a person that others could see me for what I was and the universe itself was punishing me. I developed Body Dysmorphic Disorder, I kept checking mirrors to see if I could glimpse the monster, mocking myself whenever I thought I looked normal.

Anyway. It all came to a head in my third year, when I became admittedly a bit of an edgelord. I sucked in the darkness and screamed it out.

I was sent to a hospital school. This was a little tiny class of mixed ages for children who needed extra help. It was better here, I made friends - but I also learned a dark lesson here that no child should have to -

There is an appropriate face for trauma.

And I didn't have it. I was not the cute cancer kid. I was not the brave smiling little trooper. I was told by some of the staff in the hospital school that I didn't really belong there, I should consider myself lucky. One teacher said that those of us who were there for mental health issues were weak, we had failed. If we were braver we would be in a normal school.

I would have been 11 when the first Harry Potter book came out, though I didn't read any until sixth form college. I wanted to know what the fuss was about, a movie was being made.

I thought they were fun, as many did. But I can't pretend it didn't hammer an extra nail into my heart as it yet again told me that there was an acceptable face for trauma and it was not mine.

Harry Potter. He was written to be a good looking lad, sporty. Tragically dead parents that he didn't remember anything about. Suffered abuse, but it didn't break him in any inconvenient way. He was a tragically brave little hero with his friends the impossibly clever poster girl (who incidentally was very pretty when she wanted to be) and the token dweeb who appears to have mostly be written to prop up the other two.

Then we have Neville. His story was genuinely heartbreaking and yes it was addressed, but not really. His horrors are not something we talk about. Let's not go there, let's treat it like a dark embarrassing secret. But what a brave lad he is, standing up to his friends! Not for, you know, visiting his brain damaged parents and living with his abusive grandmother. No, no, it's the friends he stands up to. Brave silly Neville. Not the hero, of course. But isn't he brave?

And at last we come to TJ Klune. I read The House in the Cerulean Sea only recently. And wow. I laughed and cried in equal measure.

As with Harry Potter, we have a collection of magical youths, learning to navigate their powers as they grow. But the differences are diamond sharp, the focus instead on all the right things while still being joyful, fantastic and often hilarious.

How can this brilliant man get it so right in such a simple way? It's obvious, when you think about it.

All traumatised children matter.

There is no right face of trauma, least of all on a child, but hey let's not leave out the grown ups. At 40 years of age I thought I knew this, but I must have kept my younger self in a little cell in my mind (ahhh but she's different, she was a monster. We don't talk about her ...).

I was David. And I was Lucy. Why is it so much easier to forgive myself when I see myself as a yeti?

Children will lash out. Forgive yourself that. Children can be little weirdos, little balls of chaos and anger. That's okay. And no child's suffering should be ignored in favour of another, no matter what they look like or what they have done.

No child should be expected to be a poster boy hero, and no child should be chastised if they do not perform trauma right.

So yeah ... Thanks for reading until the end. And thanks to TJ Klune for making a 40 year old woman feel so many things, the strangest of all being forgiveness and acceptance of her 13 year old self.

Also, Chauncey is handsome as crap.

[sapphsorrows]

sometimes people ask me how I become a terf, and the story is actually quite interesting

see i was on my way home from work one day and i saw a gaggle of terfs with baseball bats chasing an innocent transwoman. i said "stop you terfs! she just wants to pee! don't you know transwomen literally died on the cross and rose three days later to forgive us of our sins and give us the right to vote?" then one of them knocked me out with a wack to the head and the next thing i knew i was on terf island aka the UK where I was being interrogated by jk rowling and her evil co-conspirator kelly jay keen.

I tried to reason with them by explaining the plot of steven universe and singing the song about how you can make a difference, you can make a change, but they just wouldn't listen! then jk rowling made me watch all the harry potter movies clockwork-orange style so i could absorb all of the hateful secret terf messages in the movies. it was then that i became a sleeper agent for the secrety terf army.

after that, i was helicoptered over the united states where i parachuted into a red state because, as we all know, conservatives are huge fans of women's liberation and have actively been at the forefront of the women's movement. i knew that the terf revolution would only be a few years away, and so i started this blog to sow seeds of discord among anti-feminist movements and prepare america for the great matriarchal takeover of 2035.

this is my story. please share if you have any similar experiences <3

[omgthatdress]

Well, an admission of guilt and a genuine apology would be a tremendous first step. I think Lizzo could possibly come out okay if she stands up and says, "I failed in my responsibility to my dancers, and I am sorry." But because she's facing a lawsuit idk if legally she even CAN say that.

And then after that comes the process of making amends (likely in the form of a huge payout to the victims) and making sure it doesn't happen again. I doubt her record company is going to allow that.

This is actually kind of a subject that I'm pretty fascinated by and think a LOT about.

Like I think the allegations against Colleen Ballenger (who I'd never heard of before shit went south for her) were obviously very bad, but like.... kiiiind of overblown? Like I'd be willing to believe that yeah in the early days of social media celebrity, the boundaries for influencers and their fans was super blurry and it could be easy to get carried away. Doesn't make anything she did right, but I don't think she was ever grooming her fans for criminal purposes. Like if she'd admitted that she was wrong and apologized, she might have come out okay.

But then she brought out the ukelele.

But there are other celebs like.... I really don't think there's any coming back from what you did. Like JK Rowling. Trust me, I would absolutely LOVE to jump back in to Harry Potter like nothing ever happened, but the harm she's done is DEEP. Even if she changed her ways and apologized, there's a LOT of hurt she simply can't undo.

So it's complicated and it drives me crazy and it almost never happens because celebrity ego and the consequences admission of guilt in court are two things that should never go together.

TRUST ME, ideologically, I very much WANT to be able to forgive celebrities and give them room to grow and become better people, it just almost NEVER happens.

[antiyourwokehomophobia2]

I remember you once wrote a post about snape not being written how JK rowling thought she did, can you elaborate on that please perhaps? I also heard he is so much more of a dick in the books (never read the books, only watched the movies some time ago xd)

Anon. Sit down. I have shit to SAY. Okay, so, Snape is 100% worse in the fucking books. He insults hermione so viciously that she permanently alters her appearance. He threatens to poison Neville's toad and actually punishes Gryffindor house when Hermione prevents that from happening. He constantly goes out of his way to insult, belittle, and embarrass Harry. There is no reason why an eleven year old boy should feel as though a teacher hates him. There's no reason why he should be right. Let's get one thing straight: Snape does not like Harry. He only protects Harry because of his love for Lily. He straight up admits it. Dumbledore asks him "You've grown to care for the boy?" and Snape says "for HIM???" Like. If Harry was not the son of lily, would Snape care about him at all? If Harry was the exact same boy (same personality, same everything), except that his mother was not lily, would Snape give a shit about him? No, right? So how can anyone say that Snape likes *Harry*? He doesn't! People will say that Snape had to be cruel to Harry to keep up his facade, but I call bullshit. Snape did not have to go as far as he did. When Snape catches Harry alone with the mauraders map, he insults Harry even though there is no one else alone. Tell me who he is putting on a show for? Harry already thinks Snape hates him, so why did Snape take that opportunity to viciously dig into him? Also, why does nobody talk about the fact that Snape chose to become a death eater in the first place? "He had to put on an act" Why join the play in the first place?? In my opinion, JKR gives him too many irredeemable characteristics and/or choices. Also wouldn't it have been a more sensible decision for him to be a good teacher to everyone? For someone who was trying to keep his secret identity under wraps, he does a poor job. Harry and his friends suspect him CONSTANTLY. Harry goes to Dumbledore multiple times about Snape still being in allegiance with the dark lord. If Snape's reasoning for being cruel to Harry and the non-Slytherins was so he would not draw suspicion to himself, he does an absolute shit job at it lmao.

Snape isn't an awful person as a facade. He's awful because that's who he genuinely is. Don't believe me? Well, we get a look at him outside of school, before he has any death eaters to impress. My beef with JKR is that we're supposed to forgive Snape after one chapter. The chapter "The Prince's Tale" is supposed to redeem Snape.

One. Singular. Chapter. In the final book of a 7 book series is supposed to undo every single thing we've seen so far. I'm not saying that's impossible, but I am saying it's not the chapter JKR seems to think it is. We're supposed to believe that Snape is so redeemed after this chapter that Harry deadass names his son after him. It absolutely KILLS me that in the chapter JKR uses to prove that Snape is a good person, he does more bad shit! It's not filled with cute Snape moments; it's filled with moments where he's a creepy ass young adult. He enters the potters' house after they die and you know what he does? He rips a photo containing Harry, James, and lily, and keeps the portion containing lily. That's fucking creepy! That photo could have been given to Harry, but no! Snape just had to keep the portion containing Lily.

When he's a teenager, he tells lily he won't "let" her do something (I forget exactly what it was). Lily accuses him of wanting to be a death eater and he not only doesn't deny it, but lily CALLS him out for not denying it. That is something that canonically happens. Snape DOES become a death eater! He is friends with people who do dark magic. He calles Lily a slur in front of a crowd of people. He's shown to have blood purist beliefs as a child; Lily asks him if her being muggleborn makes any difference and he hesitates before answering. It's clear he DOES think being a muggleborn makes someone less. I can forgive Snape for being a weirdo as a kid. Everything is more acceptable when you're a small child, but he never changes. In the chapter JKR uses to justify everything Snape has done so far, she shows him STILL being a bad person even outside of school!! She seems to think she wrote some tortured hero who was kind deep down, but she wrote a bully who was so obsessive over one woman that he didn't care about whether her husband and child died so long as she remained alive. Snape loved Harry? Snape was okay with him dying as a baby lmao. Once again, Snape only cared about Lily. JKR wrote Snape as obsessive when she clearly meant to write him as deeply in love. That's what I mean when I say she didn't write him how she seems to think.

Also, as an aside, I truly feel like Draco and Snape are kind of the same, but jkr HATES Draco, and that makes no sense to me lmao. Like, the series would have been better tied together if Draco was redeemed as well. I'm not saying Draco is a good person, but to call Snape a good person despite him being a cruel grown man, and in the same breath condemn Draco who is literally just a child who grew up in a racist family? What sense does that make.

[training4theapocalypse]

A Nest of Vipers (Cormac McLaggen x Original Female Character - Slytherin)

Rating: Explicit 18+

Word Count: 4.3K

Warnings / Tags: Smut, Secret Relationship

Summary: Una Montague wouldn't be caught dead dating a Gryffindor. Luckily for her, the feeling was mutual as far as Cormac McLaggen was concerned.

A/N: Dear god, please forgive me for what I wrote while ovulating. First time writing an OFC but I think it's still as hot as reader-insert. OFC and McLaggen are both 18. Also I just want to say that I fucking hate JK Rowling and am gleefully bastardising her work.

Masterlist

Tag list: @countlambula, @ratsys, @aweidlich, @navs-bhat, @stainedpomegranatelips, @chiaraanatra, @xxvelvetxxxx, @ohnoitsrosie, @dracosisteer, @daisydark, @intense-sneezing, (let me know if you want removed/changed at any point btw!)

Chapter 1: Smudge

The Slytherin common door shut with a thundering echo. Una Montague looked up from her Astronomy homework and locked eyes with Meredith Prewett. Uh-oh.

Professor McGonagall had asked Sabine to stay behind after Transfiguration that day and judging by the way her high heels stomped across the stone as she stormed towards the group of sixth-years sitting by the fire, it had not gone well.

“You’re in my seat,” said Sabine Zabini with a cutting glare. 

Pansy Parkinson sprang up without argument. “Sorry Sabine. Let’s go,” she added to her friends who hastily packed up their things and made themselves scarce.

Una and Meredith rushed over from the little alcove at the lake window as Sabine sank into the onyx wing-backed chair with a woeful groan.

“Sab, are you okay?” fawned Meredith, perching on the arm of Sabine’s chair. 

“If I ever see that old hag again, it’ll be too soon,” she hissed. 

Una sat down on the hard marble table in front of them. “What did she want?” she asked. When McGonagall had asked her to stay behind, Sabine had told Una to go on without her, and so had she made her way down to the dungeons and found Meredith studying in the common room.

“She told me if I want to sit my Transfiguration N.E.W.T., I’d have to start taking remedial Transfiguration lessons with her.”

“No!” gasped Meredith. Una didn’t say anything. She knew from sitting beside Sabine all throughout the previous year that she was lucky to have even made it to seventh-year Transfiguration. But the first few weeks of term had made it apparent that she was not keeping up with the curriculum. 

“Well, of course, I told her where she could stick her remedial Transfiguration.”

“You didn’t!” said Meredith. Sabine caught Una’s eyes before rolling hers.

“Of course, I didn’t, Meredith. No, I thanked her very much for the kind offer but told her I’m withdrawing from the class. Obviously.”

“Oh, Sab,” Una groaned. “You should have just done a few extra lessons with her.”

“Ugh, as if.”

“Who am I going to make fun of her hideous hat with now?” Una smirked, trying to hide her excitement and Sabine returned it. There was one person in Transfiguration who didn’t have a partner and Una was already making silent plans to sit next to him.

Cormac McLaggen. Tall, stupidly beautiful, beautifully stupid Cormac McLaggen. God, she wanted him. But Slytherins and Gryffindors barely spoke to each other here unless completely necessary in lessons. Both houses liked to think they were the others’ opposite. But Una knew that they were simply two sides of the same coin. 

Cormac barely even looked at Una. And for some reason that made Una want him more. 

When she, Sabine and Meredith walked down the corridor arm-in-arm, boys - even the Gryffindors - couldn’t help but stare. Slack-jawed, awestruck, terrified by the trio’s powerful feminine energy. But not Cormac. He was head and shoulders taller than the three of them so he didn’t even need to avert his gaze - he just simply looked over them as if they weren’t there.

Sabine and Meredith (but especially Sabine) would be horrified if they knew about Una’s crush. Sure, he was good looking but it would be social suicide to date a Gryffindor. Even one as well-connected as him - apparently his Uncle was extremely high-up in the Ministry.

Una had a stupid habit of wanting what she couldn’t have. And, fuck, she was desperate to have him. Even just once. Just to find out what he’d be like. He was so big and broad and downright intimidating. But Una was sure she could have him whimpering, begging for her-

“Hello? Earth to Head Girl?” Sabine and Meredith looked at her expectantly. Una blinked a few times and shook her head.

“Sorry - I was thinking about… Transfiguration. What were you saying?”

“Who are you going to sit beside tomorrow?” asked Meredith.

“Ugh, I don’t know.” Una made a show of rolling her eyes. “I’ll probably just sit at the back by myself. I’ll get a lot more work done without you there,” she teased Sabine.

“You’re such a goody-two-shoes,” said Sabine, pulling her long, black braids over her shoulder. “Whatever are you going to do without me leading you astray?”

It wasn’t so much a question of what, thought Una, but who.

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

A bag landed on Cormac McLaggen’s desk with a thud and he looked up in surprise to see Una Montague perched on the edge of the desk, looking down at him. “You’re good at Transfiguration, right?” she asked abruptly.

He furrowed his eyebrows together. “Me?”

“Yeah, you. Can I sit here?”

What fresh hell was this? What was one of the Vipers doing sitting on his desk? It was rare to see any of them alone. Cormac looked behind her sceptically. “Where’s your friend?”

Sighing heavily, Una pulled her bag back onto her shoulder. “I’ll sit somewhere else.” 

She turned to walk away, swishing her hair as she went. But before she took a step he said quickly, “Wait - yeah, you can sit here.” He supposed it would be poor manners to let a pretty girl, albeit a notoriously mean one, sit by herself at the back of the class when there was a perfectly good empty seat next to him.

“Only if I’m not inconveniencing you.” 

Already feeling like he was about to regret it, he gestured to the seat.

Cormac continued to look unsurely at her as she slid into the seat next to him. “What happened to Sabine?”

Una rummaged in her bag. Cormac expected her to take out her textbook but instead, she withdrew a small, black compact mirror and some lipgloss. “Oh, she dropped Transfiguration...” Cormac watched quietly as the lipgloss wand drew across her lips, spreading a shimmering pink glaze over them. And for some reason, he felt like he should look away. Like he was watching something extremely private. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. “She couldn’t handle it.” 

She pressed her lips together and pouted a little in the mirror, examining her neat work. The way she preened herself made Cormac want to reach out and smear the gloss over her face, just to see her reaction.

She snapped the compact shut and jolted him out of his daze with a start. 

“I should give you two for flinching,” she smirked. 

Professor McGonagall strode past them to the front of the class and the chattering students quietened down. She announced that they were going to be working on conjuring birds today.

“Might I remind you that your N.E.W.Ts are only a few months away and none of you are yet to successfully conjure more than a feather.”

The class groaned and got to work, trying with limited success to conjure birds using the Avis spell.

“Why is this so bloody difficult,” grumbled Cormac after some time, concentrating on his wand tip while Una lazily brushed a comb through her hair - her wand abandoned on the table. “Conjuring inanimate objects? Fine. But birds…”

“Have a lot of trouble with birds, then?”

“Oh, very funny.”

“I’m serious. I’ve never even seen you with a girl.”

Cormac lowered his wand and turned in his chair slightly. Oh, so this was why she sat here, was it? He couldn’t deny she was good-looking. But still, a Slytherin.

“Oh yeah, been watching me, have you?”

“I’m just very observant.”

“I’m single if that’s what you’re asking?”

Una rolled her eyes. “You wish, Cormac.”

Cormac leaned back in his chair and looked her over, resting his arm on the backrest as he did.

“What about you?”

“What about me?” she asked innocently, putting her brush in her bag before raising her wand and pretending to concentrate on conjuring birds.

“I’ve never seen you with anyone. Except for the Vipers. Or is that a thruple situation?”

“The Vipers?”

“You know, Slytherin’s other monsters. Sabine and Meredith.”

Una laughed. He had half-expected a shrill cackle. But her laugh was warm, even genuine. “Oh, so is that what they’re calling us in Gryffindor Tower?

He shrugs. 

“It’s catchy.”

“So? Are you?”

She too lowered her wand and leaned in closer to him. “Are you asking if we fuck each other?” she murmured, staring intently into his green eyes. “Are you picturing me rolling around in the sheets with them in the Slytherin girls dorm? Making them moan my name?” she teased.

Cormac paused and swallowed. “What if I am?” he said, and was pleased when it sounded more confident than he felt. They were both playing with Fiendfyre, talking like this so brazenly in the classroom. But he wasn’t sure who was more skilled in this Dark Art.

“I should slap you,” Una said, moving closer still so he could hear her barely audible admonishment. He felt her bare leg in her stupidly short skirt pressing against his.

“Don’t. I can only get so hard.”

Her eyelashes dipped as she looked down at his lap. Una drew a sharp inhale when his fingers twitched suddenly towards his belt.

He smirked.

“I was joking. But I should give you two for flinching.”

Uno looked up again at him coolly. “You’re not gonna give anything to me.”

“Oh yeah?” He gave her an arrogant smile as if he found it hard to believe. “Why’s that?”

“First of all, I’m not that easy. And second of all, I wouldn’t be caught dead dating a Gryffindor.”

“Who said anything about dating? What if  -”

“Miss Montague, Mr McLaggen. Is there something amusing you’d like to share with the rest of us?”

Silence fell over the class again and Una and Cormac turned hastily in their seats to face the front.

“I was just explaining the theory, Professor” Una said sweetly, seemingly unphased by the interruption.

“Then perhaps you could demonstrate?” Professor McGonagall challenged, calling her bluff.

Una pointed her wand and out shot six yellow twittering canaries.

McGonagall’s lips pursed together in a thin line. Cormac was sure she was about to award Una points but instead she addressed him. “And Mr McLaggen?”

Cormac extended his own wand. A stream of feathers erupted from the end and floated down onto the floor. Una bit her lips, trying to stifle a snicker at his expense.

Any further embarrassment on his part was saved when the bell rang signalling the end of class and McGonagall dismissed them.

“I suppose I’ll see you on Friday?” asked Una casually, positioning her bag on her shoulder.

“Thursday.”

“The next lesson’s not 'til Friday.”

“Slughorn’s dinner thing. You’re not ditching it again, are you?”

“I don’t know… Sabine and Meredith say it’s a waste of time, sucking up to an old has-been like Slughorn.”

“They don’t need to come.”

“Trying to get me alone, Cormac?”

Cormac laughed. “It might just be nice for you to make some new friends. You’re not that bad when you’ve slithered away from the Viper’s nest.”

Una narrowed her eyes. “I happen to like my current friends, thank you very much.”

“Sure but I only meant  -”

“Believe it or not, I don’t actually care what anyone from your house thinks of me or my friends. If you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to my thruple.”

And with that, Cormac watched as Una strutted out of the classroom, leaving him to kick himself for managing to fumble the quaffle so hard - right when it was going his way too.

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

“Did you miss me terribly, Una?” cooed Sabine when Una found her and Meredith beside the common room fire that afternoon.

“It was the worst,” she said, plopping herself down on the sofa, watching the way the fire danced against the green tiles. “McGonagall picked on me and didn’t even give me a measly point for doing the Avis spell correctly. And nonverbally I might add.”

“Typical,” said Meredith. “It’s so unfair. She hates us.”

“Who did you end up sitting next to?” asked Sabine, flicking through her magazine.

“Erm, that guy… McLaggen,” said Una, as if his name was of little consequence.

“Not that oaf.”

“I know,” said Una. “And it’s not like I could even copy him - he was about as useful as a chocolate cauldron. I’m surprised he’s not in remedial Transfiguration.”

Sabine laughed but Meredith paused thoughtfully.

“He is quite handsome though, isn’t he? And rich, I think.”

“Eugh, Meredith. You have terrible taste,” said Sabine.

Una quickly copied Sabine’s look of disgust while Meredith backtracked.

“I just meant he’s alright to look at. Still a Gryffindor though, obviously.”

“And an idiot. Didn’t you hear how he ended up in the hospital wing last year? Eddie Carmichael dared him to eat Doxy Eggs for a bet. Some Head Boy he is, Una. Between him and McLaggen, you’ll have your work cut out for you this year.”

Una wrinkled her nose.

“Poor Una,” said Meredith sympathetically.

“I did find out some good gossip though,” said Una raising her eyebrows and leaning back on the sofa. “The Gryffindors call the three of us The Vipers.”

“That’s rude,” said Meredith but Sabine shrieked in a fit of giggles.

“I love it!” she laughed. “We really are just living in their heads, aren’t we?”

Una grinned. “I know.”

Sabine closed her magazine and stood up. “Let’s go down to the Great Hall. I’m starving. What do vipers eat anyway?”

“If they’re anything like Ashwinders then insects. Raw eggs,” said Meredith in an attempt to be helpful.

“That’s disgusting, Meredith,” said Sabine, linking her arm through Una’s. Meredith hurriedly latched on to her other side. 

“Speaking of dinner,” Una said. “I’m thinking about going to Slughorn’s on Thursday.”

“Ugh, pass,” said Meredith.

“Why?” asked Sabine, giving Una a shrewd look. “Blaise said it was terribly boring.”

“I know but I probably ought to as Head Girl. Bit of a snub if I don’t go twice. And maybe it’ll help my marks in potions.”

“You reckon?” asked Meredith.

“Well, it can’t hurt my marks if he likes me.”

“That’s a good point,” said Sabine thoughtfully. “Alright, I’ll come too then. I need all the help I can get since I’ve got one less N.E.W.T. this year.”

“Yeah, me too.”

Shit, thought Una. 

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

Blaise Zabini was waiting in the common on Thursday night when Sabine, Una and Meredith finally ascended from the girl’s dormitory.

“Mum was complaining you’ve not written to her yet,” he told Sabine.

“I’ve been busy.”

“All four N.E.W.Ts proving to be time consuming, then?”

“Shut up.”

The four of them made their way along to Professor Slughorn’s office. They opened the door to find several plush seats already occupied around the extravagantly decorated table. Una felt irked when she noticed McLaggen was notably absent. This whole thing really would have been a waste of time if he didn’t turn up after all.

“Welcome, welcome!” Boomed Professor Slughorn. “So nice of you to join us. Blaise, good to see you again - and you’ve brought your sister!”

“Yes, sir. Thank you for inviting me,” said Sabine graciously as they found their seats and Slughorn beamed. Sabine had such a way of making people feel flattered, even special just from her presence. 

“And our Head Girl, Miss Montague. And Miss Prewett! I taught your father, you know.”

“Yes, sir. He spoke extremely highly of you,” said Meredith, sitting down.

Una sat on Sabine’s right, leaving a few seats next to her empty. Just in case, said a small voice in her head.

Slughorn began introducing everyone. Una was surprised to notice the way Blaise’s eyes lingered on a fifth-year girl, Ginny Weasley. Though she wasn’t sure if it was distaste or something entirely opposite. Interesting. Una didn’t say anything - she just made a mental note of it, the way she so often did with snippets of potentially damning information.

Slughorn’s office door opened again and Una looked to see Eddie Carmichael entering. Her heart sank as she turned back around again.

“You could have held it open,” said Cormac McLaggen’s voice. Una froze, not daring to glance at the door, incase Sabine noticed her constant fidgeting in her seat.

“Sorry, mate,” said Eddie, pulling out the free seat beside Una.

Cormac slid into the open chair before Eddie could. “That’s more like it, cheers mate.” He looked at Una. “Alright? - ouch!” 

Eddie slapped the back of Cormac’s head before sitting down on his other side. Cormac ran his hand through his dark, curly blonde hair.

“Idiots,” scoffed Sabine under her breath.

And Una had to agree. 

Cormac shuffled his seat in closer to the table. His shoulders were so broad that Una could feel his arm pressing up against her. Even if she folded her arms, she could still feel him, taking up far too much space.

As the evening went on, they listened to Slughorn regale stories of all the famous students he had taught, each of them members of what he called his ‘Slug Club’. Every time he said the name it made Una cringe. He fawned over Cormac, asking him about his father’s Ministry connections, praised Meredith’s dad’s apparent Potions prowess as a youth and asked Sabine and Blaise what their famous mother was up to. He asked Una about her father - a prominent benefactor of St Mungo's - but was more interested in Una's Head Girl duties. And Una was grateful for this - the less she had to talk about St Mungo's the better. 

After dinner, Slughorn summoned a bottle of Elf-made wine with a flourish of his wand. “Just for those who are of age,” he chided the younger students in a sing-song voice, “And only a glass each. Or else you’ll need an Awakening Draught tomorrow!” He chuckled. “And speaking of which - “ Slughorn looked at the seventh-years mischievously, “- you’d do well to brush up on that ahead of our lesson on Monday.”

Sabine grinned at Una and Meredith. It had been worth enduring the evening after all, if they were getting tips about the following class.

As Una drank her glass of wine, she felt Cormac’s leg brush against hers. Maybe the wine had emboldened her but she didn’t shrink away. Instead, she shifted slightly, leaning her leg against his. 

On Una’s left, Sabine and Blaise began sniping at each other again when Blaise suggested that their mother might send her a howler. On her right, Cormac was telling Eddie about his plans to try out for the Gryffindor Quidditch team. 

Una lifted her glass to her lips but paused when she felt something. A large, warm hand grazing her bare leg. Cormac’s. She looked down but her lap was covered by the tablecloth. 

She moved in closer to the table and Cormac made to withdraw his hand when he felt her shift but she placed her own hand firmly on top of his, before returning hers to the table.

Cormac continued talking to Eddie as if nothing had happened while Una felt his hand trail further up her leg and under her skirt. She took another sip of wine and pretended to listen interestedly as Slughorn started waxing lyrical about a friend he had who was writing a biography about a Vampire.

“I simply must introduce you to Eldred Woprle, Miss Carrow. He has a lot of contacts at the Daily Prophet, you know.”

Una felt blood rushing below her waist as Cormac’s fingertips traced across her inner thigh. Her own hand gripped her wine glass with more force than was necessarily required, just for something to keep herself steady.

“I was sort of hoping Potter would be here tonight. It’d be good to get him on side before tryouts.”

“I don’t know why you’re arsed, mate. I keep telling you - football. Now that’s a real game.”

The plush, cozy room now felt stiflingly hot. Adrenaline coursed through Una’s body as she shakily raised her glass to her lips to try and hide her face. Cormac’s hand skirted over the crux of her thigh. Wine met her lips as she tilted her glass, letting the fruity, slightly sour liquid infiltrate her mouth.

“Well maybe I’ll tell Mum that you’ve got detention with Flitwick already - then we’ll see who gets a howler.”

Una’s heart raced in her chest. The several conversations going on in the room turned to white noise. Slowly, carefully, so as not to brush against Sabine, Una moved her legs apart. A silent invitation. She breathed shakily as she felt Cormac’s fingertips slip under the hem of her soaking wet underwear.

“My my!” cried Slughorn suddenly, causing Una to flinch and inhale an entire mouthful of wine. “Look at the time!” Cormac quickly removed his hand as Una began choking and spluttering.

Sabine gave her a concerned look as she coughed. “Are you alright? You’re bright red.”

Una wiped her lips, trying to compose herself quickly. “I’m - I’m fine,” she gasped. “Just went down the wrong way. And wine makes my cheeks flush.” She extracted her compact mirror and lipgloss, re-applying it hastily.

“It’s gone straight to your face too, mate,” said Eddie Carmichael, looking at Cormac. 

Cormac laughed and touched his hand to his warm face. He cleared his throat. “Yeah, yeah, I suppose it does a bit.” 

Una looked at him and felt herself flush even deeper when she saw him press two fingers thoughtfully against his lips. They were wet.

“Oh, how time flies when you’re having fun. You’d all better be off back to your dormitories. And if Mr Filch gives you any trouble, you just send him straight to me,” said Slughorn, waving his hand in the air.

“Let’s get out of here,” said Sabine, standing up abruptly.

Una pushed her chair back and followed her, Meredith and Blaise out of the room without so much of a backwards look.

As soon as they got out into the corridor, Meredith laughed.

“What a drag that was. Honestly, it would be worth failing Potions if I never had to endure that again.”

“I know,” agreed Sabine.

“I think I preferred it to another evening with Malfoy and the rest,” scoffed Blaise. “They’re always brooding these days. And I suppose the wine wasn’t too bad. If you don’t choke on it, that is.”

“Hilarious,” said Una.

“What did you think, Una? You were unusually quiet.”

Una’s abdomen tingled. Her brain worked overtime to come up with an excuse while blood rushed in her ears.

“Well, I had you lot squabbling on my left and two idiots on my right talking non-stop about Quidditch.” Una rolled her eyes convincingly. “But it wasn’t too dreadful. At least we know what’s coming up in Potions on Monday.”

“Well, that’s it sorted then. You can go with Blaise next time and report back to Meredith and I if Slughorn gives us any more hints,” said Sabine, with finality. 

Una mulled this over, pursing her lips together thoughtfully. It certainly would be easier to talk to Cormac McLaggen if she only had one person keeping an eye on her. She could hardly just be expected to talk to Blaise and only Blaise all night. She was allowed to network, right? And perhaps, she thought, Blaise would like to network with Ginny Weasley.

“Fine,” said Una. “But you owe me. Big time.”

Sabine linked her arms between Una and Meridith as they sauntered along the corridor to the dungeons. Una still felt faintly embarrassed about her unseemly choking display. With her free arm, she searched for her mirror in her tiny handbag, wondering if she had any wine down her front.

“Shit,” said Una, stopping and the four of them halted. “I think I left my compact.”

Meredith groaned. “I’m not going back in there. If I have to hear anything else about Vampires-”

“It’s fine - go ahead. I’ll see you two in the dormitory. See you later, Blaise.”

Una untangled herself, turned on her heels and passed the last few stragglers leaving Slughorn’s dinner party.

Her heels clicked as she walked back up the deserted corridor and around the corner.

“Forget something?”

Cormac McLaggen was sitting on a window ledge in the dark hallway, checking himself out in Una’s little black mirror. He snapped it shut and hoisted himself off the stone ledge, walking towards her.

Una extended her palm expectantly.

“What’s the magic word?” he asked, standing in front of her. Una looked up at him as he towered over her. He was so tall she had to strain - her face was only at eye level with his chest.

“Avada Kedavra?” suggested Una, attempting to snatch the compact from his hands but he reacted quickly, pulling it out of her reach.

“Ooh, not quite,” he grinned.

She took a step towards him, their chests almost touching as she looked up at him through her lashes. “Please, Cormac?”

He hadn’t expected her to surrender so quickly. Cormac grudgingly gave her the compact back and they stared at each other for a few moments, neither of them daring to address what had just happened in Slughorn’s office.

“You know, that lipgloss is very pretty,” he said, curling two fingers under Una’s chin. Her heart pounded in her chest again as she looked up into his strikingly green eyes. His own lips were rosy, tinged slightly pink from drinking the same wine. “Too pretty.”

Cormac took his thumb and slowly dragged it across her bottom lip, smearing it down her chin. He squeezed her face roughly and Una smacked his hand away, scowling.

“There. That’s better.” He gave her an arrogant smirk. “See you tomorrow.”

Una let out a scoff of disbelief as Cormac walked away, leaving her standing alone in the corridor. 

She opened her compact and examined herself in the mirror - a pink, glittering streak was smudged across her chin and there were faint red marks from where he squeezed her face.

He was right, she thought as she looked at her slightly dishevelled appearance, she did look better like this.

Chapter 2: Struggle

[fuckyeahilike]

The irredeemably evil character in [Harry] Potter has dehumanized himself. Voldemort has consciously and deliberately made himself less than human, and we see the natural conclusion of what he's done to himself through very powerful magic; what he's left with is something less than human. And he's done that purposely. He sees humanity as weakness. He has reduced himself to something that cannot feel the full range of human emotion. 

There's a huge appeal - and I try to show this in the Potter books - to black and white thinking. We should mistrust ourselves most when we are certain. Interestingly, the two characters that caused the most furious debate were Dumbledore and Snape. People wanted Dumbledore to be perfect - he is deeply flawed - but to me, he is an exemplar of goodness. But he has to make decisions, difficult ones, like those we have to make in the real world. Meanwhile, Snape can be a bully, he can be mean, he can be sadistic, he's bitter; but he is also courageous, he is determined to make good what he did terribly wrong, and without him, disaster would have inevitably occurred. 

I have had fans very angry at me for not categorizing Snape in particular as just a really bad guy. And I said, No I don't agree with you. First of all, because I know him. Second, people can be deeply flawed, can make mistakes, can do bad things - in fact, show me the human being who hasn't- and they can also be capable of greatness. And I mean greatness in a moral sense.

-JK Rowling

See, shit like this is why women who made the choice to stay with their horrible, abusive husbands until it literally became a matter of life or death, such women should not be allowed to then become the voices for all women who are victims of domestic violence. 

Most women don’t choose to stay, they just have nowhere else to go. They hate the man who martyrs them, they hate their enemy, they just can’t save themselves. And they are the majority.

In the mean time women like Amber Heard and FKA Twiggs and JK Rowling endure all manners of brutal disrespect from their man for years because they can’t bring themselves to believe that, deep down inside, their man doesn’t love them and doesn’t have some essence of goodness. After all, to think otherwise and hate them would constitute black and white thinking and we just can’t have that, now can we? Or maybe it’s their narcissism that makes it impossible for them to accept that a man just doesn’t love them.

A man may want to possess you so he can have you as property, not because he loves you. A man who sees you as ownership is one of the most dangerous enemies you will ever have, not a lover than you have the obligation to forgive and still love no matter what. 

Not that any of these women ever understood it, seeing as to this day both Amber and Twiggs still say that they love their former abuser (that’s a direct quote from both, separately, I shit you not, they state that they still love them). And as you can read for yourself, to this day JK Rowling still gaslights children into thinking that it makes them shallow and superficial to not acknowledge Snape as a man of greatness who loves and is brave.

Let’s make this very clear: a man who murders your husband and child doesn’t love you. Love is as love does. And even a bastard, provided he is brave, will at least commit his own murders instead of sending someone else, and Snape could have taken advantage of numerous opportunities to kill Voldemort and he didn’t because he’s a spineless coward, too revolting to be believed.

Stuff like this is why women who have the freedom to leave their abuser should never be given the pulpit on matters of domestic violence. They will never understand the profound horror of domestic violence, what it’s like to see only too clearly the nightmare of being wedded to a monster that you genuinely can’t liberate yourself from. 

I dare you to show me - show me right now, I mean it - a woman who was the prisoner of a man whom she genuinely could not leave, and who later says that in spite of everything she still loves the fucking bastard who nearly ended her life, or the woman who having managed to slip through the monster’s clutches thinks she’s being profound when she chides children who still retain the ability to recognize irredeemable evil when they see it for being very shallow and fascistic and “judgy” about a monster.

An author who cared about nuance and shades of grey would have made Harry a monster, because that’s what happens when you are raised as a monster. Monster aren’t born, they’re made. By any rights Harry should have been Voldemort, a person who cut out his heart and is capable of any kind of cruelty. Instead, because this is a book for children, JK obeyed the conventions that are there for a reason and she wrote him as a well-adapted, charming and prematurely mature boy who isn’t afraid of anything. If she had wanted realism his home life wouldn’t have been written as comic relief but rather as Horror for adults, like the protagonist in Thomas Harris’ Red Dragon.

Snape and Dumbledore turning out to have been in league against Voldemort is a great plot twist, and that’s all that it is, not a profound observation on the myriad nuances of human nature. In spite of the dramatic surprise it will always feel wrong because evil people can’t be good. Harry should never have named his child after him because Snape plotted to kill him and his father so he could fuck his mom. 

I’m right about this, as is everyone else who agrees - meaning that we’re correct in what we say, not shallow. Hey, at least we don’t think those who commit murder so they can fuck the widow are still capable of greatness, that you should trust them to still be capable of doing the right thing. End of story.

[thereisnolumos]

Christian symbolism in harry potter:

Snakes being evil and lions being good:

Snake referencing the devil and the snake from Adam and Eve. The lion in Christianity is a symbol of light and goodness and represents judah.

How all witches and wizards mainly good ones only doing magic with wands. Any form of actual witch craft used by dark or gray characters especially if you think about potions. Harry mainly only using the same spells or a sword or physical strength or bravery. Or pure light magic.

Harry and Deathly Hallows especially: how Harry becomes reborn again is similar to Jesus. The talk of souls and soul splitting and how that is a lot like the talk of Christianity how they talk of an immortal soul. No wonder Horcruxes to jk Rowling seems like such a horrible and dark magic. Yet honestly any magic if you think about it can be used in a dark way. How the more Voldemort splits his soul the less human he becomes and how that is really the sources of his evil to jk Rowling. Not the actual acts of violence he commits.

How there's no grey in Jk Rowlings world and that mentality is a lot like how Christians view the world.

Honestly, I never got any impression of religious influence in any of this things, but I think it’s a valid point of view. And I wouldn’t put it past JKR to include religious hysteria in her books (no, I don’t think that all religions are bad, but too many times in history and nowadays religions had been butchered, twisted and used to justify evil actions of people)

I remember long ago reading a meta on how JKR uses both witch and wizard as if they were synonymous/gender specific terms for the same thing. When in reality, witches are the ones who use mainly nature magic and make potions and all that, and wizards are the ones with wands and light/dark distinction (there were much more to it, I need to dive into it more). It’s actually one of my headcanons and plot pints in the fanfic that lives only in my head for now, that the separation of “light” and “dark” magic isn’t natural and the usage of wands isn’t necessary, and is only enforced because it’s easier to control children’s magic in schools, than to teach them to use magic through their bodies only.

I agree with you, that any spell can be used for good or for evil, and none are inherently one. They learn Incendio pretty early on - you can burn a person alive with it if you want. Same with using Aguamenti to drown someone. I’m actually trying to expand on it with the spells that are considered “dark”, I think it can be argued that Cruciatus could be used to revive a person that is nearly dead/had their heart stopping or something in this regard, Avada is honestly a mercy kill without any changes/expansions to the world building. It’s literally described as painless instant death, whose to say it wasn’t invented during holy inquisition times, to bring peace to those who were tortured/burned at the stakes (I don’t buy the idiotic idea of “they didn’t feel the flames/charmed them not to burn” as if the wands wouldn’t have been the first thing taken away and it was established that they don’t practice wandless magic). Imperius could be intended for controlling animals perhaps, assisting in training them or to collect some ingredients without killing the animal. This one I’m still figuring out

If I recall the books, Harry actually used both Imperius and Cruciatus without any remorse (and I love both instances, especially him using Cruciatus on Amycus, that’s like my favorite scene in Book 7, and it’s definitely in top 10 overall. Will never forgive them for not including it in the film). I don’t know know, whether she intended for us to reprimand Harry in these scenes or something, I only cheered. Also - it makes no sense, that Cruciatus didn’t work on Bellatrix in Book 5. She gonna try and tell me, that Harry didn’t WANT to hurt her for killing Sirius? Is she for real? And I don’t recall other spells requiring SUCH specific intent.

These books have almost zero real world building to them, which is why I’ll never buy into her tale that she “thought everything through in the very beginning”. She’s the epitome of “just going with it”

[gargoyle-doyle]

Death at the Duke of Buckingham

but not the one we normally discuss.

The death of Edward 'Fred' Charles Woodward (25) -which sounds like JK Rowling need to name a carpenter when you consider his name is Ed-wood wood-wood - and Mary Anne Elizabeth Prescott (26).

Now prior to being dead, they actually had a lot going on, as most people would. Except Mary had a lot a lot, seen as she was married and living with her husband Charles (who conveniently has less names than everyone else), and her 6-year-old daughter, Amy. But Charles worked on a boat (because of course he did as there's nothing else going on in Pompey), leaving Mary lots of time to carry out an affair with Fred throughout various pubs, where they were said to always leave separately, and buy their own drinks.

But Fred was obsessed. Writing to his friend he said "Forgive me for this rash act of mine, but really I could not bear it any longer. I take the girl I love with me. God bless her. [cont. but in red ink for a bit of theatrics] Let us be buried together.'

So, on the night of July 8th 1905, Fred took his letter, his gun, and his infatuation with him to the Duke of Buckingham Pub. Not to confront Mary but with every intent to kill her. He shot her first, and then himself; pub patrons found him alive, though he died shortly after.

-------------------------------------------------

However, this is a super fun time to point out that the same author whose book I read about this in, Dean Hollands, wrote a book in the Secret History series 'Secret Maidstone'. Coincidentally, the series features a 'Secret Portsmouth' by Steve Wallis in which he labels the Shannon wrong, which is astonishingly hard because there is a metal trophy on top of the Shannon so that anyone with sight can look at it and go 'ah yes, this is the Shannon monument because it says Shannon on it and has a great big massive blue trophy on top,'. (Further relating to how the media is trying to obscure the obelisk in any way it can) Steve Wallis count your days.

This does actually beg the question of this really happening. It's very hard to do a quick google search fact check of 'murder at the Duke of Buckingham pub' because FUNNILY ENOUGH the Duke of Buckingham got murdered AT A PUB - something i have never ever mentioned before on this blog ever. its also immensely difficult to search anything like 'Mary Prescott' 'Edward Woodward' with death/portsmouth/various keywords as they are beyond common names.

(i will clarify i spent about 0.004s fact-checking because its 10pm on Christmas Day <3)

Whatever, completely true or not, its a cool story. Unless of course you are the carpet of the Duke of Buckingham pub, Mary Prescott, or various pub-goers troubled by the event. And most probably her husband Charles and young daughter. So contextually not too cool. But I'd like to imagine at least that theres a legacy of Summertime assassinations in the Dukes name. Pompey tradition. Who's next?

--------

Oh and also for reference the Chesapeake monument looks like this, and not in the slightest like the Shannon.

[the-girl-from-another-time]

My Feelings on Severus Snape: Good-Guy-in-Disguise or Abusive Jerk?

Some love him, some hate him. There’s lots of arguments on either side. Personally, I think he’s a well-written and intriguing character. Doesn’t mean I like him.

Snape’s story is truly tragic. The abuse and bullying he suffered when young, his friendship with and unrequited love for Lily, the risks he took spying on the Death Eaters for Dumbledore, protecting Harry in the end, etc. That is beautiful and compelling storytelling and a brilliant example of a nuanced character with depth, and the way those layers were gradually revealed over the course of the story is extraordinary.

I feel so much compassion for him. He had an incredibly abusive, traumatic childhood, and then once he went off to Hogwarts, he was mercilessly and cruelly bullied by “the cool kids”. My heart goes out to him. Personally, I wonder how he would’ve turned out if he hadn’t been bullied. I wonder how he would’ve turned out if he’d been befriended by someone other than the future Death Eaters. I wonder how much of his interest in and devotion to the Dark Arts was because said future Death Eaters were the only ones who bothered to befriend him. I mean, his bullies were none other than future key members of the Order of the Phoenix, the “good guys,” so of course he’d gravitate away from them. Snape’s story touches my heart, and it definitely begs the question of how monsters are made.

But I do not and never will like him as a character.

Here’s the thing. Everybody suffers at some point, in some way. Not all of us become monsters. Snape bullied children. Even little 11-year-olds. Not just Harry because he was James’ son. He made a 12-year-old Hermione cry when he mocked her teeth, he fully intended to kill 13-year-old Neville’s toad because he was struggling in Potions (and he constantly bullied and put down Neville, this sweet and gentle kid who has to live with the fact that Death Eaters tortured his parents into insanity and don’t even recognize their own son), etc. Neville’s boggart was Snape. Not the Death Eaters who tortured his parents, but Snape. His teacher.

I don’t care how much pain and hardship Snape endured. Nothing gives anybody, especially a teacher (who is tasked with caring for and guiding children), the right or justification to bully children. Nothing. Ever.

You know who else suffered constantly in their childhood (and adulthood)? Remus Lupin. He was bitten by a werewolf at four years old, grew up as an outcast with no friends until Hogwarts, and spent his adult years in poverty because no one would hire him simply because of his condition. Not only that, but he lived twelve years believing that one of his best friends murdered their other two best friends. This man had a life of almost non-stop pain and self-hatred, and he was one of the kindest characters in the entire series. He was always gentle and compassionate toward students, he was patient with others, he put time and love into helping his students succeed, he always put others before himself, etc.

And then Snape outed Remus. He’s a werewolf—once people know that, his job prospects disappear. Finally, he has a job at a place he loves with people he cares about (and he’s good with these kids), and then Snape, in a cruel and petty move, reveals his condition (even though he knows the potion makes Remus safe), forcing him to resign. Not long after that revelation, a law was passed making it harder for werewolves to find jobs. Thanks, Snape. I just can’t forgive that.

A history of suffering does not excuse cruelty. Likewise, suffering does not necessarily cause someone to automatically become cruel. It is a choice—do I rise above this or do I let it twist me? Snape chose the latter option. He may have fought for the right side in the end, but he did not try to become a better person.

There are two schools of thought: First, “I have suffered, so why shouldn’t others suffer too?” and secondly, “I have suffered, and so I know what it’s like and I don’t want anyone else to have to go through that.” Snape chose the first, and there are people like Remus who chose the second.

So, yes, Snape’s a nuanced and intriguing character who touches the heartstrings of compassionate readers. He’s also needlessly cruel, petty, and unfair, and he never tries to become a better person. So, yeah, he’s not all that redeemable.

[lycanloc]

You guys actually make me kind of fucking sick.

Obviously not directed at OP but at the voters. This is the first post I've seen from them.

TL;DR it's fucking disgusting how some of y'all will forgive a neo-nazi that has actively spread hate in-person but not someone who limits it to only words. I will block you if you say something stupid in regards to this.

Let me start out by saying this; I am heavily against JK Rowling's stance on Jewish people, people of color, and trans people. The Holocaust did indeed happen, do proper research on cultures you're unfamiliar with (especially if you putting them into a story), trans men are men, trans women are women, sex and gender are different.

With that out of the way... what the fuck is this?

Taking from one of the comment reblogs, but going off of percentages... more of you would forgive a Neo-Nazi, someone who actively believed Hitler, the man who actively tried killing all Jews, gays, and trans people, and also believed in "the master race" was right?

This might be controversial, so I understand if you disagree with it, but I genuinely believe Neo-Nazis are WORSE than JK Rowling. JK Rowling has, in all honesty, only talked about her views on Twitter, the worse being the Imane Khelief situation, which... only caused cyberbulling. Still really fucking bad, don't get me wrong, especially since she refuses to listen to what anyone says.

But Neo-Nazis literally try to enact what Hitler wanted. They actively go out and protest, trying to preach Nazism. Just looking up images, one result talks about them preaching anti-semitism, homophobia, and white supremacy in front of DISNEY WORLD in Orlando. In front of LITERAL CHILDREN.

I can not FATHOM how you could forgive someone willing to expose children and even literally babies to sheer hatred but not someone who limits their hatred to tweets. This is absolutely fucking revolting.

And reread the second poll. This isn't some "edgy phase" from middle school, where people like to make the "funny communism haha" type of jokes. No, it explicitly says "a nazi phase in their adult life." Someone who is grown and mature enough to know EXACTLY what they're doing and preaching.

Either some of you are lying straight out of your fucking ass, or some of you are just plain fucking stupid. If you either believe JK did nothing wrong, think JK denying the Holocaust, using racist stereotypes, or outright calling trans people a danger is good, or you would just... straight up forgive a neo-nazi no questions asked, then fuck you. I hope you get what you deserve.

And note; I block quite freely. So if you say something just outright fucking stupid, like "JK is actually based for that" or something, I am not giving you the time of day. Go fuck yourself.

IF and ONLY IF she apologized genuinely, donated a large sum of money to appropriate charities, and showed genuine and sincere efforts to remedy and repair her behavior: would you forgive JK Rowling?

[disturbedbydesign]

I Hate You, I Love You - Chapter 5

PAIRING: ex-husband!Ransom x Reader (featuring dark!Jake Jensen)

SUMMARY: After your divorce from Ransom is final, you just want things to be cordial between the two of you for the sake of your children. You want to hate him but you can’t—you’re addicted to memories of him and the good years you had together. Ransom can’t let you go, either. He insists he never cheated and he’s determined to figure out which one of his terrible family members set him up and destroyed his life. He knows you’ll take him back if he has proof, and he’s found a world-famous detective to help him find it.

WORD COUNT: 4.8K

WARNINGS: Divorce, References to Infidelity, DILF Ransom (he’s a warning), Explicit Sex (O&V), CNC, Breeding, Degradation, Choking, Femdom, Hidden Camera/Voyeurism, Past Drug Use/Addiction, Violence. 18+ only, no minors.

A/N: Written for @boxofbonesfic and @darkficsyouneveraskedfor Triple D Challenge! Also, this is an anti-JK Rowling blog but the fact remains that reading Harry Potter books to little kids is cute so we shall pretend for the sake of DILF Ransom that the HP books were written by someone who isn't a complete piece of shit.

Chapter Five

The second Ransom gets the kids out of the car, they sprint to the door calling for you. When the door swings open, the sight of you steals Ransom’s breath.

“You look so pretty, Mommy,” Kira says, wrapping her arms around your waist. “Daddy, doesn’t Mommy look pretty?”

“Always,” he says.

You smile at him and the diamonds he bought you catch the porch lights and sparkle. You’re always beautiful to him—even sleep-deprived and covered in spit-up, you were the loveliest thing he’d ever seen—but he hasn’t seen you like this in a while. You look put together, you look relaxed, you look almost happy.

You’re not, though. He knows you’re not happy with him even before you ask him to come inside.

“I need to talk to you,” you say. “It won’t take long.”

Ransom waits nervously as you get the kids settled in upstairs. When you come back down, the look on your face is some combination of anger and discomfort.

“Look,” you say, “obviously you’re free to see whomever you like, but I need you to promise me—really promise me this time—that you won’t bring random women around the kids. Now if you’re actually with someone, that’s a different conversation. So, the woman you brought to Harlan’s, are you two…”

“No,” he says, “not at all. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought her. I just…”

“You just what, Ran?”

“I knew it would piss you off, and I’m a fucking child, ok? I just… I wanted to make you jealous.”

You huff and shake your head, crossing your arms in front of you. “Why do you do this shit to me? Why do you insist on making everything so fucking hard?”

He snaps back, “Because I’m mad at you!”

“You’re mad at me? Is that a joke?”

“Yeah, I’m mad at you. I’m mad at you because you didn’t believe me when I swore on our children’s fucking lives that I never cheated on you. And you still don’t believe me. And it fucking hurts me. So I’m a prick to you and I’m sorry. I’m an asshole. I know I’m an asshole. But I fucking love you. I’m still in love with you and-”

“Don’t,” you cut him off. “Don’t you fucking do that.”

“No, fuck that. I love you and I’m tired of pretending I don’t.”

“So that’s it? You’re either acting like a complete prick or declaring your love for me? There’s no in-between for you where maybe we can stop fucking fighting all the time and make this work and actually move on?”

“I don’t want to move on,” Ransom says. “I can’t.”

“Seems like you already have, Ran,” you reply sadly.

“It’s not what you think,” he says, wishing so desperately he could tell you the truth—that he hasn’t touched a woman since you, that he only brought Natalie around the kids so he can find out who the fuck destroyed both your lives. “I don’t want anyone else. I never have.”

“Please just stop lying to me. I swear I’ll forgive you for everything if you just stop with the lies.”

“I’m not lying and I’m gonna prove it to you if it’s the last fucking thing I do.”

You squeeze your eyes closed and take a deep breath. “I wish I could believe you. I really do. You think I don’t miss our life? You think I wouldn’t give anything to have it back?”

“Then just trust me, baby. Please. I know it’s asking a lot.”

“It’s asking too much. I can’t trust you, are you fucking kidding me? Two days ago you were with some other woman, being an absolute prick to me, and giving me… I don't even want to talk about your little Christmas present.”

“Wasn’t that little,” Ransom says with a smirk.

You try not to laugh but you can’t hold it in. “I fucking hate you so much,” you say, still trying and failing to fight off the giggles.

“No, you don’t. I know you don’t.”

“Maybe not,” you say, “but I should.”

“Look at me,” Ransom says, taking your upper arms in his hands gently and pulling you closer. “I promise you that I’m going to fix this. I’ve been trying to fix this for a year and I’m close now. Just give me a little more time.”

Your eyes start to water as you stare into his. “You can’t fix it, Ransom. There’s nothing left to fix. It’s over.”

“We’ll see about that,” he says, and he lets you go even though all he wants is to hold you tighter.

“You should go,” you say and Ransom nods and starts for the door. “Unless… do you want to stay for bedtime?”

Ransom feels like his heart is going to explode in his chest because there’s nothing he wants more in the world at this moment.

“I do,” he says. “I really do.”

You sigh. “Alright. Come on, then.”

Ransom follows you up the stairs, eyes trained on the curve of your ass in your tight little jeans, and all he wants is to grab you by the hips and take a big bite. You’d let him, too. He knows you would. But he needs more time, he needs Blanc to come through with concrete proof, which reminds him: he needs to check in with Jake and see what he was able to get out of you.

Jake had texted earlier in the day and told Ransom he was about to take you out to lunch for a chat. Ransom hated the idea of you out with Jake; it made him insanely jealous (and even more so now that he sees what you decided to wear for the occasion) but he let it go. After all, he was the one who sent Jake on that particular errand—a necessary evil—and Jake knows how to butter you up; you trust him, he’s become your confidante since the split, and they both know that a nice bottle of red always loosens your lips. But It should be Ransom sitting across a table from you in the North End, sharing a bottle of wine, and if all goes to plan it will be again soon.

“Daddy!” Kira screams when the two of you come up the stairs together. “You’re still here!”

“That’s right, baby girl. Mommy’s throat hurts a little and we can’t have you going to bed without storytime so I said I would stay and help.”

“I’ll get her ready and you take Henry?” you say and Ransom nods, heading towards Henry’s room to get him ready for bed before bringing him into Kira’s room and tucking him in next to her.

“So what am I reading tonight, Miss Kira?” he asks, because Kira always gets to pick the books (and Henry is mysteriously fine with it).

“Grandma and Grandpa got me Harry Potter for Christmas.”

“I think I can manage that,” he tells her.

You walk over to Kira’s bookshelf, grab the hardcover Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone off the shelf, and hand it to him. Ransom pulls up a chair next to the bed and you sit cross-legged at the foot of it, facing the three of them.

“OK, are we ready for a brand new adventure?” he asks.

“I’m so excited!” Kira squeals.

Henry just nods his head and Ransom can tell he’ll be out in a minute. Kira, on the other hand, will want a whole chapter. He’d read her the whole fucking book, start to finish, if it meant he could stay longer.

“Here we go,” he says, opening to the first chapter. “Chapter One: The Boy Who Lived. Mr. and Mrs. Dursley of number four Privet Drive were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. They were the last people you’d expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they just didn’t hold with such nonsense…”

As Ransom reads the first chapter in its entirety, he steals tiny glances at you. Mostly you are watching Kira’s face light up as she enters the Potterverse, but a few times he catches you looking at him with a soft smile on your face. You don’t try to hide it; you don’t look away when he catches you staring. You just look at him the way you used to, back when the two of you were always together for this nightly ritual. God, he’s missed this.

Ransom focuses hard on his storytelling—on the performance he’s giving for his daughter—because if he doesn’t, he’ll start thinking about how many chapters there are in the book in his hands and how many of them he’s going to miss. He’d beg on his knees for you to let him come over every night until it’s finished just so he doesn’t have to miss one single expression on his daughter’s face. He knows he won’t have to, though, because he’ll watch storytime on the security camera every night he can’t be there. But it’s not the same. Not that he ever thought it was, but being back together like this just reminds him how much he’s lost, how alone and empty he is without his family.

“… He couldn’t know that at this very moment, people meeting in secret all over the country were holding up their glasses and saying in hushed voices: To Harry Potter—the boy who lived!”

Ransom dog-ears the page and closes the book and Kira looks up at him with puppy dog eyes. “One more?” she asks.

“Not tonight, sweetheart,” he tells her. “It’s already past your bedtime.”

“Will you come back tomorrow if Mommy’s throat still hurts?”

Ransom looks at you and you give a slight nod.

“I will,” he says. “I promise. Sleep tight. I love you.”

“I love you, Daddy,” she says. “Goodnight.”

Ransom leans over Henry’s sleeping body and kisses Kira on the forehead before picking Henry up to carry him to his room.

You give Kira a goodnight kiss and follow Ransom into Henry’s room, pulling back the covers so he can lay his son down and tuck him in. You turn on the nightlight and close the door behind you, leaving it open just a crack, the way Henry likes. Ransom follows you back down the stairs to the kitchen.

“Thank you,” he says. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“It was nice. I missed it.”

“Me too. You have no idea how much.”

“I think I do,” you reply. “Besides, you’re so much better at doing the voices than I am.”

“I mean, I did take one semester of acting in college, so obviously I’m a pro.”

“You only took that class because you thought the professor was hot.”

“Exactly, which is why I actually went to class.”

You laugh and Ransom almost forgets that this is not his home anymore. It feels wrong to leave when he should be lighting a fire and sitting on the couch under a blanket with you, having a glass of wine to chase off the Sunday Scaries and talking about the week ahead. But he knows he has to go, that if he stays any longer something could happen to ruin this perfect moment, so he grabs his coat off the stool in the kitchen.

“I should go,” he says. “Let you get on with the rest of your night.”

“Yeah, me and all my big plans. I’ll walk you out.”

You follow him to the door, and when he turns around to say goodnight to you, you walk right into him. He grabs you instinctively to steady you and you put your hands on his chest, looking up at him with sweet hungry eyes. He sees the want in them and he waits for you to come to your senses and push away from him but you don’t. Instead, you wrap your arms around his waist and squeeze, burying your face in the fabric of his sweater as you hug him. Ransom hears you inhale his scent and he hugs you back tight—maybe too tight, but he doesn’t want to let go—and when you tilt your head up to face him, the tip of your nose brushes against his chin and he loses all control.

He brings his lips to yours slowly, praying that you’ll accept his kiss, and you do—softly at first, tentative, just lips. His whole body is on fire for you and he wants nothing more than to grab the back of your head and deepen the kiss but he stops himself. It takes every single ounce of willpower he has, but he lets you lead. But all it takes is one touch of his tongue to yours and you’re done for. You moan into his mouth and open wider for him, letting him kiss you deep as you bury your hands in his hair and pull. You push him back against the door and he brings one hand down to cup your ass while the other cradles the back of your neck. He’s rock hard already, and he knows you know it by the way you're moving your body against him.

You break away, breathless, and look into his eyes. He searches you for any sign of shame or regret but it isn’t there.

“Take me to bed, Ran,” you whisper.

He doesn’t hesitate. In a flash he has you over his shoulder, taking the stairs two at a time until he gets you to the bedroom you used to share. He closes the door quietly and locks it before tossing you down on the bed.

“Are you sure about this?” he asks.

“Oh just shut up and fuck me, will you?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Clothes fly everywhere as the two of you scramble to disrobe, and when you’re both completely naked, Ransom kneels at the edge of the bed and yanks you down towards him by the ankles. He wastes no time, a part of him still thinking that you’re going to change your mind at any moment—and he would stop, he would, but he knows he won’t have to the second he buries his head between your thighs to get a taste of you. He moans against your flesh as the first drop of you hits his tongue and you spread your legs wide for him. When he licks a hot, slow stripe up your folds, you arch your back and keen—it’s loud, too loud, and Ransom just laughs.

“Shhh, baby,” he says, pressing his finger to his lips.

You clap your hand over your mouth and mutter “shit” before you grab the remote off the nightstand and turn on the TV, raising the volume just loud enough to muffle the sounds he knows he’s about to drag out of you. Ransom eats you like you’re a tasting menu at a Michelin starred restaurant—slowly, taking his time with each course, savoring every part of your sex until your legs are quivering and your heels are digging into the bedspread as your toes curl.

“Oh God, Ran. Don’t stop. I’m gonna cum. Please.”

Ransom wouldn’t dream of stopping—not now, not when he’s got you on the verge of cumming all over his face, which is exactly what you do when he digs his fingers into the flesh of your thighs and sucks your clit into his mouth. You can’t hold back, or you don’t want to—either way, you have to grab a pillow to muffle your cries as you grind against his face and topple over the edge. Ransom wishes he could see your face, watch you as you come undone for him, but he’s not done with you yet. Not even close.

Ransom kisses his way up your body—your mound, your hip bones, a circle around your belly button and up to your breastbone—watching you the whole time. You look down at him with your lips slightly parted, your breathy little moans escaping each time he presses his lips against your skin. He takes your breasts in his big hands, gently kneading at them before he takes one of your nipples into his mouth and flicks it with his tongue. You gasp when he gives it a tiny nibble, and then he moves to the other side to give it his full attention.

You’ve got your legs wrapped around his waist and he can feel your pussy throbbing with need against his cock. He’s painfully hard and leaking for you but he takes his time savoring every inch of exposed skin. He kisses up your neck to that spot behind your ear that makes you crazy, and when runs his tongue over it, you grab his biceps and arch off the bed.

“Need you inside me, Ran. Please. I need it so bad.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“You miss my cock, baby?”

“So much.”

“You need the real thing?”

“Mhmm.”

“It’s yours. It’s always been yours.”

Ransom sits back on his knees and pushes your legs open wide. He takes a beat to admire you splayed out for him, pussy glistening and clenching around nothing, more than ready for him.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he says. “I fucking love you.”

“I love you too, Ran. I love you so much.”

It’s all he’s wanted to hear for a year, and he could blow just from hearing the words pass your lips, but he pulls his shit together because your warm, wet pussy is waiting for him and he can’t disappoint her. He grabs his cock and drags the tip through your folds a few times before pushing inside you. You let out a low moan as he slides inside you and between that fucking sound and the fact that you’re so fucking wet and it’s been so fucking long, he’s already overstimulated and has to stop halfway.

“Shit,” he hisses. “Fuck, baby. You feel so fucking good.”

“More,” you beg, and he gives you what you crave.

Ransom snaps his hips, burying himself inside you, and he kisses you gently as he slowly starts to move. He takes his time with slow, deep strokes, savoring the feeling of his cock dragging against your walls, of your nails digging into the meat of his ass you pull him in closer. You throw your head back, exposing your neck to him, and he licks a hot stripe from your collarbone up to your chin, the salty-sweet taste of your skin better than any candy. When he starts to roll his hips, he hits you just right, and you wrap your legs around his waist, meeting his thrusts, telling him without words that you want more. He starts to really fuck you now—hard and fast and deep, the way he knows you like it.

Ransom grabs the back of your thighs and pushes them back, folding you in half underneath him and angling you just right so he’s hitting your sweet spot with each thrust. He brings his face close to yours, your ankles bouncing on his broad shoulders as he pounds you into the mattress. He grabs your face and presses his forehead to yours, sweat mingling together, as he watches you start to unravel.

“I’m so close,” you moan. “Do it.”

“I know what you need, baby. But I wanna hear you say it.”

“Choke me, Ran.”

Ransom wraps his left hand around your neck and you put your hand on top of his, two of your fingers gripping his pinky ring, and when you start to squeeze his hand, he knows it’s time. Ransom applies just enough pressure to the sides of your throat to hear your breath catch, and when your eyes roll back and your mouth falls wide open, he gives you everything he’s got left in him.

“Cum for me, baby. That’s it. That’s my girl.”

He almost loses it when he feels your pussy start to spasm but he squeezes his eyes closed tight, willing himself to last longer even though the feel of you after all this time is absolute bliss. He releases some of the pressure on your neck as he fucks you through your orgasm, clasping his right hand over your mouth to muffle your screams, and when you’re done and your body goes limp beneath him, he takes his hand off your neck and cups your face, running his thumb across your bottom lip. He feels you clamp down on him hard, your greedy cunt desperate for his release, and while he’d love nothing more than to fuck you until the sun comes up, he can’t hold back anymore.

“Oh, fuck, baby. Squeeze me just like that. Fuck. I’m gonna cum in that tight little pussy.”

“Do it. Fill me up, Ran. I need it.”

“You want my cum, baby?”

“Uh huh.”

“You’re gonna get it. FUCK.”

He hears you giggle and you bring two fingers to his lips. “Shhh,” you say, but it’s hard to keep himself quiet when you feel so fucking perfect wrapped around him—like you were built for him, like he’s finally home.

Ransom goes white behind the eyes and explodes, burying his face in the crook of your neck as his hips jerk involuntarily. He spills himself into you and he can hear how desperate he sounds, whimpering against your flesh as you milk every last drop from him, your satisfied sighs filling his ears as he fucks his cum into you, deep as he can get it. He’s never stopped wanting another child with you, and he knows it’s what you wanted, too. It’s not that he thinks another baby would fix things on its own, but it would never be a mistake.

“I love you,” he murmurs as he comes down, kissing his way up your throat to your lips. “I love you so fucking much, baby.”

“I love you, too,” you whisper.

He stays inside you for a while, not wanting the moment to end, terrified of what comes next. When he finally pulls away, he settles in beside you, your back pressed to the front of him. The curves of your body are a perfect fit for him as you lay there together, snug as two puzzle pieces.

“I know I have to go,” he says, chin resting atop your head. “Just let me hold you for a while.”

You don’t speak for a moment, and it feels like an eternity as Ransom waits for the inevitable rejection.

But it doesn’t come. Instead, you whisper, “Don’t leave yet,” and that’s all that needs to be said.

He’d intended to sneak out before dawn but you’d worn him out, physically and emotionally, and he wakes to the sound of banging on the bedroom door, the kids trying the doorknob and yelling for their mother.

You shoot up in bed and look at him with panic in your eyes. “Fuck. What are we gonna tell them?”

“I’ll handle it,” Ransom replies. “Just get some clothes on and get back in bed.”

Ransom dresses quickly and waits for you to get yourself back under the covers before opening the door. Henry’s delighted squeals of “Daddy!” echo through the room; he looks elated, but Kira is hesitant.

“You didn’t go home,” she says—half-question, half-statement.

“Mommy wasn’t feeling well so I told her I would stay and take care of her.”

“What’s wrong with Mommy?” Henry asks.

“Just one of her headaches. She’s feeling better, now. Right, sweetheart?”

You smile at him and you’re absolutely glowing. “I feel great,” you reply.

“See? Mommy is fine. Now who wants breakfast?”

Kira looks up at him, still not convinced. “Pancakes?” she asks.

“Coming right up.”

Ransom is in the middle of whipping up his pancake breakfast when you come down the stairs, showered and dressed in a pair of jeans and a distractingly tight cowl neck sweater. You grin when you see him at the griddle.

“Smells good,” you say.

He hands you a cup of coffee—light milk, brown sugar, the way you like it—and watches as you look at the kids sitting impatiently at the table. He can see the tinge of worry in your eyes, and he feels it, too. This was all very unexpected, to say the least, and Ransom is just as concerned as you are that whatever is or is not happening here not make things harder on the kids. Not so much Henry, but Ransom can’t bear the thought of giving Kira any false hope. She’s a clever little thing, she can sense something is up, and it’s one thing for Ransom to hold out hope that things might go back to the way they used to be, but the last thing he wants is to disappoint his baby girl again.

You’re mostly quiet during breakfast, picking at your bacon, and Ransom puts on a good show for the kids but he knows it’s coming—that the two of you need to have a conversation and he may not like what you have to say. But he’s made a decision; he made it the second you kissed him back last night. He’s going to tell you the truth, Benoit Blanc’s instructions be damned.

When breakfast is over, you send the kids into the den to watch TV and come up behind him while he’s finishing up the dishes. You start to speak but he stops you.

“Before you say anything, there’s something I need to tell you,” Ransom says. “And I just need you to listen to me, ok? Just listen, and then you can say whatever you need to say.”

“Alright,” you agree. You take a deep breath and let it out. “Tell me.”

Blanc had made that clear that neither he nor Harlan was supposed to tell you about the investigation—something about observing you coming and going without any outside influence at play—but Ransom doesn’t want to keep any more secrets from you. It seems counterproductive to lie to you in the cause of proving he’s not a liar.

“That woman I brought to Harlan’s-”

Your lips set in a straight line and he can see the fire in your eyes, and he knows exactly what you’re thinking. “Goddammit, Ransom. You promised me you weren’t-”

“Just listen,” he pleads. “She wasn’t my date. Her name is Natalie and she’s a private investigator who works for a guy named Benoit Blanc.”

Your brow furrows and you tilt your head to the side. “The guy from The New Yorker article? The detective?”

“Exactly. Harlan and I hired him a few weeks ago to figure out what happened with those fucking pictures.”

“I don’t understand,” you say. “What do you mean what happened? You know exactly what the fuck happened, Ransom.”

“No,” he snaps. “I don’t, which is what I’ve been trying to tell you for a fucking year. I’ve been through four other guys, spent I can’t even tell you how much money to try and figure out who the fuck decided to ruin our lives, and nobody had any answers. But this Blanc guy… he’s the best there is.”

He can see your mind racing, trying to square what he’s telling you with what you think you know.

“I don’t… I… You really don’t know what happened?” you ask, your voice wavering a bit on the question.

“I really don’t. But I’m gonna find out, and I want you to help me. Will you meet with him? Answer some of his questions?”

“What questions? I don’t know anything.”

“Just let him do his job, ok? Will you do it?”

You don’t respond. You just walk over and sit on one of the kitchen stools, staring into space. Your voice is shaky when you whisper, “You really didn’t do it?”

“I really didn’t do it, but someone went to a lot of fucking trouble to make sure you think I did.”

You look at him with tears in your eyes. “Ran-”

“Don’t, baby,” he replies “It’s ok. Someone played you, someone who wanted to hurt us.”

“Your fucking cunt mother,” you snarl.

“It wasn’t her. I know, I know. I thought so too, but it wasn’t. Blanc doesn’t think it was anyone in the family.”

“So who then? Who the fuck would do this? And HOW? Because… God, it makes me fucking ill to think about it, but that was you, Ran. I know what you look like when you’re getting your dick sucked.” You clutch your stomach and swallow hard. “Christ, I think I’m gonna be sick.”

You rush to the bathroom and Ransom can hear you throwing up your breakfast. But as hard as it is for you, you believe him now. You finally fucking believe him, and Ransom can’t help but smile. When you finally come out of the bathroom, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.

“Ran,” you croak. “I think I know who did this.”

CHAPTER SIX >>>

[slytherin1130]

You are the one

Summary:

You have a crush on Severus Snape and you have decided to confess it today. Does it go according to your plan? Read to find out. ;)

Notes:

A/n: This is my first work here; or rather my first attempt at writing. And yes, I know this is may be a bit sappy... But i love reading sappy fluffy shit like this. I mean certainly Severus deserves to have someone who loves him like I do. But then again I know he will just scoff and roll his eyes if I tell him.

All the characters JK Rowling created is hers. This wonderful world is hers. I will just borrow it for a while.

This is not beta read, so if there are any errors please forgive me.

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

You can read it on AO3 too.

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There. The man you have been searching for past half an hour. He was sitting at the further end of the library, trying to merge with the shadows and making himself invisible. His nose in a book and long strands of shoulder-length black hair covering his face. It was clearly giving everyone the message of’ Do not approach’ but it just didn’t apply to you.

You did not know for how long you stood there, just watching him. You were a year below him, so the chance of him noticing him you were nil. However, you did notice him. For the past two years, the said boy was a constant presence in your mind. Blame it on hormones or whatever, you couldn’t help but be fascinated by the way he was.

He was almost always scowling and sneering, but you noticed how he looked when he was reading, his countenance relaxed. He looked… dare you say… attractive. He was awkward, skittering around like a spider but in the potion’s classroom, comfortable and confident in his element, he was like a magnet drawing everyone’s attention. Always quiet but very intelligent. A true Slytherin.

However, what everyone saw was ‘Grease ball Snevilous Snape’. Duh! People can be dumb. They were too into the horrid picture the Marauders created about him to notice his brilliance. You hated the fact that he was the Marauder’s favorite punching bag. You hated the fact that people love witnessing his humiliation. You hated the fact that no one cared. Most of all you hated the fact that you could do literally nothing about it.

You shook your head, clearing it of all the thought littered in your mind. Today was the day. The day you planned to confess your crush. You planned with your friends. You thought, maybe finally he had someone he can learn to trust and even… probably learn to love someday.

Taking to deep breath’s you approached him. Despite being immersed in a book, you could feel him stiffen as you approached him. His posture becoming defensive. “Severus… Um… Can I talk to you for a minute?” The speed at which he lifted his head to see you nearly made you jump. “What do you want”, the frown and the ugly sneer back in his face. “I want to talk to you” “Why in Merlin’s name will I waste my time on you. Just say what you want and leave. I have better things to do.” Though his reaction hurt, you knew it was to be expected. So, you continued. “Well, I just wanted to say that…” “Well, well well, if it isn’t our beloved Snivvy…” The voice you grew to hate more than anything in your life. The voice of Sirius Black. As expected, he came along with his fellow hooligans. James Potter wore a cocky smirk you wanted to wipe off so badly. Pettigrew looked delighted and Lupin indifferent.

“Now Snivvy, pray tell what you are doing to poor little (y/n). Trying to corrupt her with Dark Magic, huh? Isn’t it enough, what you did to Evans?” He flinched at the mention of her name, you couldn’t help but feel a bit jealous. Even after all of this, he still fancied her? “Is she your new Target? Even after all of this, you have not learnt your lesson? Are you so thick? Can’t you understand when we say, stay away from sweet girls. What do you say Prongs, teach him a lesson?” Asked Black as he threw an arm around your shoulder and drew you closer. You swatted his hand away and stepped back. Stood as far away from him as possible, glaring at him. He just ignored you and carried on with taunting Severus. “Sure Padfoot.” ‘Stupefy’ ‘, the voices shouted at the same time. Severus managed to deflect the two spells shot by Potter and Black. However, no one noticed Pettigrew aiming his wand at the bookshelf behind Severus. You watched as all the blood from your face drained, the shelf and the books in it tumbling down on Severus. With a huge thud, the whole shelf fell on him. All three of them laughed as you stood frozen in your spot. When you finally unfroze yourself and turn to give them a piece of your mind, they were gone. You were so angry that you could just kill all of them right now, but Severus needed your help. Just as you were about to help him, Madame Pince stormed in and, took twenty points from (y/h) for all the ruckus. You couldn’t care less about house points, at the moment Severus was all that mattered. You watched hopelessly, as the books were cleared and a bloody, unconscious Severus being levitated to the hospital wing.

Just as you were about to run after him, you heard faint giggling behind you. Friends! Now they were laughing uncontrollably. You were so confused as they came forward and enveloped you in a bone-crushing hug. “(y/n), oh (y/n). That was absolutely brilliant.” “You saw his face before the shelf fell on him, Oh my god! I can't stop laughing” Then it all made sense to you. You felt betrayed as you asked, “What did you do” “What do mean? Weren’t you the one who said we are going to prank him?” “Prank?” “Come on (y/n), you are the one who said that you were going to confess to him. Will you stop playing your games already? ” “…” “Wait… You are telling me you meant it. As in you fancy him, HIM. Oh, (y/n) why him of the guys in this freaking?” That’s it. You were done. The audacity of these people. “I trusted you, you know. That’s why I told you about my plan, about my feelings for him…” “Why him…” “I thought you had my best interests in your mind…” “I never thought you meant it!” “DON’T INTERRUPT! You should have asked me. And what is wrong with him by the way? Do you think I would such a cruel prank on him? On anyone. You just assume everything. You spoilt everything! I was so happy that finally, someone understood him. Saw him for what he is” “But (y/n), it's Snape we are talking about. He is a Slytherin for God’s sake! You know the kind of people he hangs around with. His friends. He will definitely hurt you. You saw what happened to Evans. We don’t want to see you in her place. (y/n) please try to understand…” “Enough! First, you dare to assume I would pull such a cruel prank on let alone him, on anyone and think I would enjoy it too. Then when I call you out on it, you lecture me. neither I nor he needs to change our views or ourselves. The only ones who need changing are you lot! You need to at least try to see him for who he is, give him a freaking chance. Without even knowing him, you can not judge him. His so-called friends are his housemates. The only ones in this whole school who treat him civilly. So, the marauders coming here is also your plan, huh?” “No no. That was a coincidence”, was the only reply you got. You stood there for another few seconds for their reply but none came. So, you stormed off, tears threatening to spill from your eyes as your friends hung their heads down, ashamed of themselves. …………………………………………………………………………………………...... You did not know for how long you stood under the tree nearby the lake ‘The same place at which Severus was disrobed’, you thought bitterly, staring blankly at the tentacles of the giant squid which was poking out of the surface of the water. Life was so unfair. You could just picture Severus sneer and say something like, ‘When was it even fair to start with?’

You did not eat that night. However, you poked your head in the infirmary before you called off for the day. Madame Pomphrey was kind enough to let you see Severus once. You sat on the stool by his bed. His head, arms, and legs were bandaged. He looked so tired. You held on to his hand and let your head fall down on his bandaged arm as the tears which you were holding back flowed out of your eyes like a river. You kept telling sorry as your life depended on it, but you did not know for who you were apologizing. Then you felt a hand on your head. You turned to look at the said hand’s owner, but what you saw made your breath hitch. Severus was watching you with a sad smile. He heard the whole thing. When you opened your mouth to talk, he just shook his head and said,

“I know.”

It broke something in you and you cried harder. He held you, kind of in an awkward way, as you cried into his arm and poured out all the stress of the tiresome day. ‘How can people hate someone like him’ you thought as you sobbed. As your sobs died down and your shoulders stopped shaking you let go of his hand, suddenly feeling embarrassed for your emotional outburst.

Severus handed you a tissue paper from the table by his bed. You cleaned yourself and took a few deep breaths. You lifted your head and saw him. When the onyx eyes met the (y/e), no words were exchanged. A connection. He did not need to know about your silly crush on him now. Neither of you had the energy to deal with that truth. That one can certainly wait. Severus knew he was not alone anymore and that was enough for now. You smiled shyly and returned an equally shy one. Yes, it can wait. Maybe one day he himself may feel something for you. Until then we can be friends. You were confident it will work out because for once your heart and your mind agreed on one thing, He was the one.

Notes:

And that's it. I hope you like it. Any suggestions write it down in the comment section, your inputs are always welcome.

[bluebyrd-screaming]

Reasons why everyone should stop supporting jk Rowling and the hp books whether you are a TERF or not: (this list is in no particular order)

She racially justified slavery within the universe and said that they shouldn't be released from said slavery because they are simply happier as slaves (every character who tries to free them is mocked for it)

The goblins play into Jewish stereotypes. Greedy bankers with large noses. And then they start stealing children to drink their blood in the latest video game which is quite literally blood libel

The constant insistence that the safest place for a child is with blood relatives, no matter how abusive they are

Half the hogwarts staff literally abuse the children and its always played off as a joke unless it's Snape or Umbridge

Assigning 11 year olds to their personality traits forever, including "brave main character" "nerd" "evil future nazi" and "other"

Children labelled as slytherin are open ground for bullying. Not once does anyone think "maybe we can stop the nazi indoctrination now"

There are only a few types of girls: Not Like Other Girls TM, mother, evil bitch, and strange but quite. Rarely are any of these characters given any more in depth analysis beyond this trait

Owls are in invasive species where Hogwarts is but it's the coolest pet to have

All of the canoncially fat people are Evil (Umbridge, Pettigrew, Pansy to name a few)

The Weasleys are Irish stereotypes. Literally sound like weasels and have a shit ton of kids that they can barely afford to feed

All of the wizards think of muggles and squibs as inferior and that belief is racially justified. Even characters like Mr Weasley who supposedly love muggles thinks they are cute in the way you find a strange animal cute

Muggle and Mudblood are thrown around by the fandom as an insult as of the same wasn't done by the literal NAZIs in the original text

Severus Snape is both a child abuser and literal nazi, but we are supposed to forgive him because he had a crush on Harry's mom and did One nice thing foe Harry

Hagrid keeps bringing in dangerous invasive species to his home on school property. Every single time this is laughed off as an "oh you"

Voldemorts crime is never his superiority complex over muggles and mudbloods, but the fact that he wants to eliminate all of them. Again, it is textually justified to have this superiority complex

Harry literally owns a fucking slave which is justified by the slave preferring the more abusive owners and, if he had his way, going to the literal nazis to rat the main trio out

Her AIDS metaphor is so botched it's fucking disgusting. Remus was raped at a young age and now has to take medicine so he isn't a threat for raping more children. AIDS is seen as something that makes you inherently dangerous and society is justified for shunning those with the disease

Harry literally named his "favorite" child after two of his biggest fucking abusers becuase they helped him a little and that is supposed to overrule all of the abuse

Cho Chang and Kingsley Shacklebolt are the names of two real characters which are totally not racist names at all (/sarcasm)

Cho is considered to be hysterical and an idiot for grieving her boyfriend who was murdered on a public stage and how could she not love Harry

Native Americans are portrayed as idiots who must be helped to realize their full potential by colonizer boarding schools

Snape calling Harry's mom a literal slur is seen as misguided flirting and not absolutely fucking disgusting

Hermione kept a whole ass human being in a fucking jar because she was a gossip journalist

[bluesylveon2]

An Indirect Confession

Disclaimer: I do not own anything Hogwarts/Harry Potter related. That all belongs to JK Rowling. Attack on Titan is a manga/anime series written by Hajime Isayama and published by Kondasha.

A/N: This was submitted for the @levihan-drabbles fanfic contest. Enjoy! Also I have not read the HP books in so long so forgive me if I mess up with the worldbuilding.

The Yule Ball was a formal dance held during the Triwizard Tournament. It was held on Christmas night, a night for wizards and witches from the three attending schools to dress up, eat, and dance until their heart's content.

All the students were dancing except for Levi Ackerman. He had danced many times already and took a break at the Astronomy tower.

Levi stared at the twinkling stars from his spot. To him, the night sky was truly beautiful, peaceful even. It reminded him of the nights when his mother would talk about the constellations to him and his sister, Mikasa. The tower was his place where the wizard could hide when he wanted to get away from the crowd.

Levi closed his eyes to fully take in the serenity of the night. Levi could see the full moon's reflection on the Black Lake, and the trees surrounding it swayed a bit from the wind. If Levi could, he would stay at the tower forever. He already had his hands full from being the Hufflepuff Quidditch captain.

A minor scuffle and a quiet "shit" broke Levi out of his trance. Levi instinctively took out his wand from his robes, ready to attack the intruder if necessary.

"Who's there?"

"It's me, Hange. You know? The amazing Ravenclaw prefect? Your date to the ball." she called out teasingly.

Levi slowly put his wand away, a look of regret evident. "I'm sorry about that. I was getting a little bit overwhelmed by the festivities."

Hange walked over to Levi and gave him a sympathetic smile. "I don't blame you, but you owe me for leaving me behind," she plopped herself down on Levi's old spot.

"Do you want another dance or something?" Levi asked while wrinkling his nose at the thought of dancing again. Poor boy has never been the best dancer, and it showed when he and Hange were on the dancefloor.

Hange snorted and patted the spot next to her. "Oh, I would never ask you to do that. We had already danced enough times today, and I noticed that you were getting tired of it. I know balls are not your thing anyway, so I just want to sit together with you instead."

Levi sat down and joined Hange in staring at the stars. "So-" he began without taking his eyes off the sky. "Where is your brother anyway? I'm surprised that he had not tried to sniff you out when you left."

Hange let out a slight hum in thought before smiling mischievously. "I may or may not have told Mike that one of the Beauxbatons girls wanted to be his date. The rest was a slice of cake."

Levi turned to her with a raised eyebrow. "Is it the one who is part Veela*? Her name is Nanaba, right?"

Hange turned to face Levi with bright eyes. "Bingo." she laughed until she realized that Levi was staring at her with a slight smile on his face. She blushed bright red. "So, where are your friends? I thought that they would be looking for you too. With you being the infamous, grumpy Hufflepuff and all." she joked in an attempt to not focus on Levi's face.

"Isabel and Furlan are busy stuffing their mouths with food. Everyone else is too busy dancing." Levi said while rolling his eyes at the grumpy Hufflepuff part.

Hange chuckled before putting all of her attention to the sky. Levi followed suit, and the two watched the stars in silence.

"You know. I was always fascinated by the night sky. It is so dark, yet the stars and the moon are the only things lighting up the sky. It kind of reminds me of you." She stated without taking her eyes away from the stars.

Levi frowned at the thought. "How?"

"Well, many people think that you are broody, grumpy, and unapproachable, but you're not. You are different. For example, if everyone is like the sun, you are the stars that shine brightly at night. Also-" She trailed off before turning to Levi and gently grabbing his hand. Levi looked at her with shock, his face tinted red. "I find myself at peace with you. The night makes me content, just like you," she added with a small smile.

Levi was too stunned to speak. He has associated himself with the night before, but not from Hange's perspective. To him, she was like the sun, bright, and everyone was following her path. Another thing about the sun was that the moon reflected sunlight onto the Earth. In Levi's opinion, he has always felt much happier and alive ever since he met Hange.

Hange gently squeezed Levi's hand before turning to face the moon. She decided it was time to take a leap and be vulnerable.

"The moon is really beautiful tonight, isn't it, Levi?" she said with a serene smile and a warm feeling in her chest. Hange knew that Levi would understand her words without telling him the meaning directly. It was from the bond they shared in their years at Hogwarts together. From taking Defense Against Dark Arts to drinking a glass of butterbeer at Hogsmeade. Hange knew that she was taking a step forward in her relationship with Levi, and she did not want to turn back.

Levi continued to stare at her before squeezing his hand back in reassurance. He understood Hange's words, and he realized then that he never wanted to let go of Hange's hand. He wanted to stay by her side until the day they died. Levi had learned to love Hange from all these years with her. She was not only a powerful witch but his best friend and the one he loves.

"It really is."

---

*Veelas are magical creatures with white-gold hair and moon-bright skin. They are described as being very beautiful unless they are angered. An angry Veela transforms into something that looks like a harpy and can throw fire. Since Nanaba is half-Veela, it is unknown whether or not she can transform/throw fire.

©: This is where I insert all rights reserved stuff. This story belongs to me. Do not modify or republish.