#crookshanks is god

[onebedtorulethemall]

A very silly Crookshanks POV drabble

God of Lovers and Lost Socks

When longing overfilled the small flat and coalesced into a dense fog of misery that coated his whiskers with every movement, Crookshanks decided it was time to get involved.

He’d watched her wait passively for months with nothing to show for it but a black oil slick of frustrated loneliness that trailed her everywhere she went. He’d been coughing up hairballs with the effort of removing it from his fur.

There was nothing passive about the way Crookshanks now waited. He stalked an opportunity with the unflagging patience of a born hunter, and when he saw it, he didn’t hesitate.

It took the shape of a crack in the door while she brought in shopping. He slipped out, pausing briefly in the stairwell to clean the sour tang of yearning from his fur.

Cats have no need of maps, or of invitations. He dozed in a sunny patch on the plush chenille of Draco’s armchair for an hour or so until he got home.

“Hermione?” Hope punctuated the pall of Draco’s tension. Then, “How did you get in here by yourself?” 

Crookshanks, who guarded his secrets more closely than the pile of unmatched socks beneath Hermione’s bed, offered a different show of trust. He rolled onto his back and didn’t attack the hand that descended to caress the hidden white gossamer of his underbelly; only the second human to have done so unscathed.

When he judged that enough time had passed for the shopping to have been put away and the flat straightened, but not enough for her to panic over his absence, he led Draco to the fireplace.

“I’m certain her Floo won’t be open for me. I’ll have to Apparate you to her street.”

Crookshanks flattened his ears against the stupidity of men and dug his claws into the rug. When the green flames cleared, he twined himself in a rope of fur around Draco’s legs.

“Draco! What are you—oh!”

A voice could shoot up an octave for many reasons. Mild surprise over an unexpected visitor sounded no different than a heart-fluttering explosion of adrenaline that tightened the vocal cords. To human ears, anyway.

She grew flustered, embarrassed, and called Crookshanks away with futile enthusiasm. He coiled his body more tightly around his prey. Hands collided and foreheads nearly followed as they bent to remove him in unison.

“I’m so sorry,” she gasped, as Crookshanks sacrificed his dignity by clinging with stubborn claws to trouser fabric, only submitting when the stench of their shared mortification and uncertainty burrowed beneath his fur. He left to go clean himself on her bed.

Two days later, he allowed Draco a minute of chin scratches to ease his fog of anguish before herding him to the fireplace with a series of fluid figure-eights.

She scolded Crookshanks and promised Draco she’d keep the doors locked, since he’d evidently developed the capacity to open them. That night, he chewed a hole in her favourite jumper.

They both stewed in the haze of her jittery nerves for a solid week before he was able to breach the prison walls again. A window, opened to admit an owl, became a perfectly serviceable escape route through which her blunt human hands couldn’t hope to stop him.

Draco was permitted to lift him, languid and boneless, into the crook of his arm as they travelled back through the fireplace together. It was a strategic move that placed the pale, anxious face within striking distance.

Her gentle fingers administered a salve to soothe the sting of claws and betrayal, although a spell would’ve worked just as well. Crookshanks hissed in approval from beneath the sofa as a dinner invitation was extended under the guise of an apology for his violent antics.

Draco left that night smelling of wine and hopeful anticipation, a sweet mist of contentment left in his wake. It lasted throughout the night and filtered out into the hallway the next afternoon through the door, which she’d carelessly left open with a smile.

He did not operate on her schedule, and so he waited until the cotton cloud of happiness dissolved into streaks of agitated anxiety the colour of her empty Floo. Then he padded into the night to hunt.

His mark was a study in contradictions. Here was an optimist whose bedroom window was propped open wide enough to allow a half-kneazle to slip through, yet who slept with a murk of despair hovering suffocatingly over the bed. Crookshanks’ ears pricked to hear a familiar name muttered through dreaming lips.

He pounced.

They arrived into the silence of a sleeping flat, Draco’s nerves electrified with the knowledge of the hour and his location. When he tried to deposit his intruder on the ground and escape without notice, Crookshanks yowled with all the force of a fire alarm. She was a light sleeper.

“Are you serious, Crookshanks? Now?”

She stumbled into the darkened living room, unsteady with sleep and confusion and the urgent tugging-down of her oversized shirt.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know how he keeps getting in,” Draco lied.

Cats are composed mainly of sinew and agility. It wasn’t his fault what happened next.

As she moved forward to accept responsibility and offer a hundredth unwanted apology, he barrel-rolled out of Draco’s loose grip and executed a perfect mid-air flip that landed him beneath her next step.

Strong arms broke her fall and held firm.

“I think your cat is trying to tell me something.”

“And what’s that?”

“He thinks I’m an idiot.”

“Oh. Are you?”

Crookshanks didn’t need his superior hearing to catch her breathless tone. He didn’t need night vision to see the plume of desire that surrounded them now.

“Yes, because I haven’t—I haven’t done this already.”

Lips met, followed by bodies. Crookshanks circled the perimeter of their legs until he was certain they were so attached they couldn’t ever be separated.

The flat smelled of sweet, hot joy and the fresh peppermint of beginnings.

Draco stayed, and he stayed, and he stayed.

[v-a-l]

One thing that I find completely unbearable is that in HBP, no one other than Harry and Buckbeak were mourning Sirius. We see Remus and Tonks acting sad, the two people, aside from Harry, Buckbeak and Crookshanks, who should have been the closest to him, and it turns out that they were sad about each other! No one feels grief that the Order of the Phoenix suffered its first casualty in the second war. No one feels regret over the destruction of a young man’s life, never mind that some of its members had known him since he was a kid. Nothing.

oh god this hurts me, tbvh I've never quite considered who grieved him and who didn't, but you're right!! Spare HBP though, people are hardly grieving in OOTP. Five minutes after Sirius fell through the veil Dumbledore was already talking shit about him, so. Poor dude can't catch a break.

Like even Ron and Hermione should have been grieving more? Considering how much they put on the line to rescue him in PoA. The marauders were Fred and George's heroes, and Sirius housed the Weasleys in Grimmauld when he didn't have to. McGonagall, Moody, Tonks, Remus its almost like now that he's gone, they're happy to pretend it never happened. He does cast a shadow, and a big one over the subsequent books, especially over Harry, but it isn't one that ever makes you feel that others ache for his presence and the comfort and safety and freedom he brought Harry the way Harry himself does.

[animentality]

I just wanna remind the class that Sirius Black was an awful character. He basically did nothing to help or protect Harry through all of the books where he was alive, and while I agree that Harry sucks, and I wouldn't want to protect him either, it's still a mark against his character and speaks to like, the total incompetence of JK Rowling as a writer.

In book 3 he endangered the trio by dragging Pettigrew under the Whomping Willow and getting them involved in his bullshit, when he could've just waited for a better opportunity instead of literally diving on Ron in front of his friends and dragging his ass away. Like really? Harry is in Gryffindor, idiot, he's not gonna let his best friend get eaten by a dog. Also Harry had to watch his parents die. You really wanted him to watch you murder a guy? You're stupid as hell.

You're also a fucking dog, and Pettigrew is a RAT. Neither of you have a wand. You can easily outpace a rat and then tackle him if he tries to change into a human. Also Crookshanks. Corner him when he tries to make a run for it. Don't dive on him when there are people around.

Also even if he runs, what the fuck is stopping you?

You have nothing going on. No 9 am meetings. Chase him away from Hogwarts so you can hunt his ass in peace. Don't bring Harry into it at all. You have nothing but time.

Then the only good thing he does is lose Pettigrew, vaguely save the kids from a werewolf, which is kind of his fucking fault, I might add.

And then passes out so that Harry can save HIM. Then he has to be saved again from returning to Azkaban.

Now you can at least excuse book 3 Sirius because the guy is absolutely nuts after 12 years in evil wizard prison. He's cracked and he's not thinking straight. And him being hunted by the government isn't really his fault. He's a red herring. The big plot twist is that he's not evil and that's "fine." It's acceptable.

But book 4?

Oh my god he's so useless.

He's there for Harry to send letters to, and then NOT help him at all.

The only thing he does is get interrupted by Ron before he can tell Harry to do something really stupid, which is hit the dragon in the fucking eye, something that could've easily gotten him burned or stomped on, or still hit with the Horntail's tail. Harry basically figured it out because of fake Moody, not Sirius.

Then Sirius' guidance is just a red herring of "oooh watch karkaroff" gee thanks buddy.

I'm so glad you're here just so JK Rowling can misdirect the audience. Again.

He also gives exposition about Barty Crouch.

Again, for the misdirect, of thinking Barty Crouch is bad.

But that's it.

There are far better ways to give exposition on Crouch. I'd argue the movie did it better and in a more dramatic way.

He then does nothing whatsoever to help Harry with the 2nd or 3rd tasks. His greatest utility is as a support animal at the end of book 4.

It's actually amazing how he does nothing for the entirety of Goblet of Fire.

He basically just comes back to Britain so he can die in the next book.

And then that's where he's at his worst before dying.

He encourages Harry to do dangerous and stupid things. He does stupid things himself and makes Harry, the 15 year old boy, worry about him, a grown ass man, because he hates being home.

I know that people have childhood trauma and all that, but for fucks sake.

He would not be a suitable guardian for a child ever because he puts himself first.

And before you fuckheads start insisting that's the "tragedy" of his character and it's so emotional and deep, yak yak, I don't want to hear it because he's a fucking plot device before a character.

His whole role in book 5 is to make you think he's gonna do something stupid.

And then he does.

And then he dies.

And it's crazy because he's a wildly popular character, despite the fact that he's terrible. But I can't even really criticize the popularity, because it's mostly carried by Gary Oldman being hot, and also doing a way better job of making us give a shit about him.

I can't express enough how absolutely stupid and awful it was for Sirius to brush Harry off when he was afraid he was becoming evil after seeing nagini attack Arthur!! this is the last fucking book Sirius is alive and this is like the last time they really get to talk one on one.

the scene with Gary Oldman telling him he's not evil... it literally outweighs every fucking Sirius Black scene in the goddamn books!! and it's an original scene.

the director realized that we have to remember we actually like Sirius because of how little he has to do in the main plots.

but it fucking worked.

the warmth that Gary Oldman exudes in that movie is genuinely charming.

but the book Sirius???

NOT. IT.

There's nothing wrong inherently with excusing some of this crap for drama or storytelling purposes, I just object to the fact that the character himself could've been far more interesting and sympathetic.

He could've actually been helpful or proactive or had something to do with the plot that wasn't just acting as a red herring, which I might add he did literally 3 times. First he's not a villain, second it's not Karkaroff or Crouch, and then third he's not actually in the ministry building, Harry's just an idiot.

The childhood best friend of a kids dead father has so much potential.

But he's shuffled and sidelined and treated like a prop before a person. His charming nature is just for fun, it doesn't actually bring anything out of Harry, aside from the protectiveness he feels for all of his friends.

He's vaguely funny sometimes and cracks a few jokes and tells the kids they're dumb every once and a while.

And that's it.

I really can't express enough how absolutely fumbled his character is. We don't get enough of him talking about James or his time at Hogwarts.

Ironically Snape gives Harry way more info on what his dad was like, in like, all of his flashback scenes.

We never got to see the warm side of James that wasn't associated with bullying Snape.

Sirius would've been a great way to balance that out... but we never get his perspective on it.

He's there to dump exposition and be saved.

And it's such a waste.

[storiesofsung]

TWST HP AU 🪞⚡️ !!

AcexYuuxMalleus

Yuu will be depicted as female in this with she/her pronouns

I’ve been thinking of an AU of this for a while now due to the similarities between each story (magical school of wizards with respective houses of each powerful mage), however as I think more there are even more character similarities some, depending on how you view Yuu

🪞⚡️🪞⚡️🪞⚡️🪞⚡️🪞⚡️🪞⚡️🪞

Golden Trio ⭐️- obviously Ace, Deuce, and Yuu, my favorite trio

Deuce ♠️ - Harry Potter. I can’t connect many similarities between them, but at the same time I can. They’re both boys who love their parents and just try to do the best in what they can, especially since both have been given a second chance to succeed in this magical world. Now, Deuce isn’t perfect but he is trying and is not overtly prone to breaking the rules. He’s sweet, innocent, while still having bite to his bark. A bit clueless at times but with good intentions.

Ace ❤️- Ok now this asshole is perfect for Ron (I’m joking). But honestly his more outlandish personality does have some comparison towards Ron’s sarcastic personality. He’s more on the laid back side whilst still being a valuable friend. (Also they’re both ginger lmao) Plus his relationship with Yuu is more on the chill play fighting side, anyways…

Yuu 🦐 - Hermione, this one can be taken lightly depending on how your version of Yuu is but one thing is for sure: they always get Ace and Deuce out of overblot situations and manage to use some sort of semblance of a brain to figure shit out. However, in my AU let’s say that Yuu too is trying to make a life for themselves by working hard and doing the most they can of their schoolwork. Yuu also being the glue that holds these two idiots together. And honestly her whole schtick as the school therapist now makes sense

Grim 🐱 - Crookshanks. Nothing more to say, just Yuu’s stupid cat (with love)

Also the whole racist thing with Hermione and Yuu could have a connection, since Yuu basically has no magical abilities, yet are able to attend this magical school and work their way up. And because of this, there may be students opposed to Yuu’s magiclessness (mudblood—)

Extra:

Malleus 🐉- Victor Krum, this is slightly stretching it a bit but I can see these two sharing similarities. Malleus and Krum are both exemplary at their respective wizarding sport (Spelldrive, and Quidditch) and are known to be prodigies of it. They don’t have many friends due to being viewed as Gods, Celebrities, etc. in some way and therefore are quite lonely. Attracted to this specific person for not fawning over them and for seeing who they really are, and are able to appreciate their brains for what it’s worth 💚💚

Extra extra:

I totally see the Yule ball sequence happening in the TWST HP au because of these specific lines

❤️: Hoy, Yuu, you’re a girl arent you

🦐: Oh, well spotted

❤️: How about uh you and me go, since we don’t have dates as it is. Don’t wanna show up by ourselves right

🦐: for your information I already have a date *shuts book and walks away*

❤️: What’s got her wand in a knot

♠️: *clueless, spacing out* huh

And malleus totally showing up as yuus secret date AAAA—

🦐: Would you care to join Malleus and I?

❤️: Care to? You’re fraternizing with the enemy

🦐 *irritated*: The point of interhouse games is unity and—

❤️: *rolling eyes* So what

🦐*understanding the situation*: You’ve been rotten the whole evening. Next time there’s a ball, pluck up the courage to ask me before someone else does, and not as a last resort

❤️: Women are scary

🦐: ACE, you’ve spoiled everything.

*cue weeping on the steps*

♠️: 🧍

And in likeliness, Yuu could end up with Malleus, and become the next Queen of Thorn Valley…but it could also take to the more erm in-canon Harry Potter ending cough (do you see where I’m going with this)

“Emotional range of a teaspoon x Nerdy Bookworm “

I love this AU, I could honestly go in so many directions with this AU

🪞⚡️🪞⚡️🪞⚡️🪞⚡️🪞⚡️🪞⚡️🪞

[sailtomarina]

Choose me

They started over a shared appreciation over a particular bottle of merlot Malfoy insisted was far too good to waste on “unappreciative plebs,” not that Hermione knew the difference. To her, all that mattered was that the wine went down without a bite and paired well with her charcuterie.

One glass became two, then a whole second bottle, and then Hermione realized she’d had far too much to drink in too short a span of time. The words spilled out of her before she could take them back.

“Gods, you are so pretty. And smart. Did I ever tell you how glad I am that you can actually argue with me?”

Not five minutes later, he pressed her into the booth with the full length of his body and she drank him in as ardently as she had the wine.

One hour and a couple of sober-up potions later, they yanked off their clothes in Malfoy’s ridiculous flat and didn’t leave for the rest of the weekend.

One month later, Theo dubbed her “Granger the Conquerer” for her relentless dominance of the games at their weekly get together. That was three times as fast as it had taken him to accept Blaise in the Snake Pit, and they were dating.

Three years later, a still alive and now wizened Crookshanks joined them in bed with a box in his mouth which he distastefully spit out onto Hermione’s lap while Draco struggled to hold back a laugh. He’d ply the familiar with his favorite treats later.

“…Draco.” She uttered his name in a disbelieving whisper and stared down at the sapphire velvet as if afraid it might transform into a serpent and bite her.

“Hermione.”

In the span of the five minutes it took for him to take up the ring and—smirk and dimples fully present—to ask her to “Choose me,” Hermione had turned into a blubbering mess of a witch with curls double their usual size and an alarmed cat at the end of the bed unsure whether to escape or maul the human who’d tricked him into taking part.

WC 350

Just another attempt at trying to write short pieces while still conveying the mood/setting I want. It's so, so hard to not fill in the gaps. I don't know how other writers do it!

Twitter prompt from DramionePrompts

[mrspasser]

Craft box - Inception fanfic

I found this comic online (source unknown to me, unfortunately) and then I wrote a fanfic. That's it. I had a lot of fun writing it :-)

Eames. Eames is the vampire, of course.

Read it below or on Ao3.

Craft box

It’s only the first day. Everything was going so well, too. After all, it’s not like this is the first time he’s looked after James and Phillipa. With a lot of their closest family living in another state or even abroad, he’s kind of like an uncle to them. The fun uncle without any kids of his own and with an impeccable fashion sense. Alright, he’s the gay uncle, so what? That doesn’t mean he can’t look after kids. He’s pretty good at it, he dares say. He knows to cut little James’ sandwich in small triangles, so they’re both bite-sized and fun-sized. He knows how to braid Phillipa’s hair, he even managed to do something that resembled Elsa’s hair. From afar - whatever, the kid was happy. And he’s just served them a nutritious meal, which they even finished to the last bite, so he’s really on top of this babysitting thing. 

Until Crookshanks comes casually wandering into the kitchen with something in his mouth. Something that moves. 

“Crooks has a mouse!” Phillipa calls out and she immediately slides down from her chair at the table to run after the cat. 

Arthur, who is just clearing the table, has about one second to think ‘Oh no’ before things get worse.

“It has wings!” Phillipa announces this like it's a fun novelty instead of a worrying development. She is perched in front of the stairs in the hallway between the living room and the kitchen, where the red shabby haired family pet has decided to lay down with his catch. 

“I ‘anna see!” James almost throws himself down from his high chair and races towards his sister and the cat. 

Arthur would much rather do the dishes than deal with some poor, doomed critter the cat caught, but the horrible vision of James and Phillipa with tiny viscera smeared on their hands spurs him into action. He tosses the tea towel over his shoulder and hurries toward the hallway. “Don’t touch that, kids!” 

He’s relieved to see that the cat still has hold of the critter, the unfortunate animal caught beneath both front paws. James and Phillipa sit in front of the cat, sharing their observations with each other.

“It has very pointy wings.”

“An’ a furry belly.” 

“No, that’s his head, silly.”

From up close, Arthur is stunned to see the animal isn’t all that tiny. And it’s not a mouse at all. It’s a bat. And it’s dead. Thank god.

“Come on, kids, let me through,” Arthur says, gently pushing his way in between the kids. The cat warily watches him approach, but doesn’t move. Arthur is generally on good terms with the Cobb family’s cat and he likes to keep it that way. 

Beneath the cat’s paws is unmistakably a bat: one of its wings pokes out at what’s gotta be an odd and painful angle. The bat is not moving and Crookshanks doesn’t seem to be holding him all that tight. “Yeah, I think he’s dead,” Arthur sighs, not looking forward to what comes next. At least he can dispose of it pretty easily. Could he just chuck it in the trash or should he put it in the compost heap in the back of the yard? If it died outside, it would decompose somewhere on the ground too, right? 

“Aww no,” Phillipa cries mournfully. “Are you sure?”

“Aw you sure?” James parrots her. He isn’t sad, though. He probably barely understands what’s happening and is just happy to be along for the ride.

“I’m sorry, honey, I think so,” Arthur answers and strokes a hand over Phillipa’s hair in comfort. “That’s what sometimes happens in nature. Cats are predators, they hunt.”

“I know,” she replies, perking up already. “Crookshanks has catched a lot of mouses already! And a frog! And two birds! No, three! Three birds!” 

“And now he can add a bat to his tally,” Arthur confirms. The massive, fluffy cat generally demonstrates a pretty laid back attitude inside the house, yet it’s still an animal equipped with claws and sharp teeth and Arthur knows to show deference to that kind of potential power. 

He’s decided that the tea towel should be sufficient for grabbing the dead animal without making his hands dirty. He doesn’t want to go back to the kitchen to look for rubber gloves under the sink, in case Crookshanks gets it in his head to take his prey further into the house and hide it somewhere where Arthur can’t find it and then the whole house will smell of rotting carcass within days. 

Arthur carefully moves in with the tea towel and it must be his lucky day, because the cat is suddenly bored with whatever it is that is happening and stands up and wanders off, not even looking back towards the poor bat it killed. “Oh well,” Arthur shrugs, “that could’ve gone worse.” He’d been prepared to fight the cat for the dead animal, but this is way better. Or it isn’t, because now there is nothing to distract Arthur from the feeling of a dead animal in his hands, tea towel or not. He almost gags, only able to hold it back for the sake of the kids. 

“We should bury it in the backyard!” Phillipa suggests cheerfully. “We can make a… a dead people box, from a - from a real box.” 

“A coffin,” Arthur corrects. “And I don’t think that’s necessary, honey. A bat is a wild animal, not a pet. We don’t need to bury it.” 

He walks towards the trash can in the kitchen. It is nearly full, he can toss the bat in and then take the trash out. Maybe he’ll toss in the tea towel as well. Who knows what kind of germs the bat carries. 

“But I wanna…” Phillipa is gearing up for an argument, both of the kids following Arthur on his heels. 

Except when Arthur reaches the trash can and puts his foot on the pedal to open the lid, the bat suddenly trashes back to life. Arthur may or may not have screamed. The kids know, but who believes a five and a barely three year old when it’s his word against theirs? He also drops the bat. “Fuck,” Arthur says. With feeling. 

“That's a bad word,” James informs him sagely, while his sister dances around him, chanting “It’s alive! It’s alive!”

The bat, who is indeed very much alive, tries to scamper behind the trash can, away from the noisy giants that tried to toss it in the trash and then proceeded to drop it from some height.

“Oh god,” Arthur groans, realising he will now have to touch the bat again to catch it. Maybe he can call in Crookshanks to finish the job?

“Oh no, he’s hurt!” Phillipa has stopped her happy dance to peer behind the trash can. “His wing is all wonky.” 

A quick peek confirms that indeed, the animal’s left wing is not looking too hot. It probably hurts, maybe it would be better to put it out of its misery? 

“We have to take it to the animal doctor!” Phillipa is suddenly taking charge and she disappears into the living room, coming back with an empty shoe box a moment later. It’s adorned with shiny stickers and fuzzy decals; Arthur recognizes it as her craft box and realises that there’s now a mess of stickers and craft paper on the floor in the next room. “We can put it in here!”

There’s no way that Arthur is going to drive to a vet with a probably half dead bat at this time of night. He’d have to pay an arm and leg for a consultation outside office hours, for an animal that’s probably only still on its feet due to a last, desperate burst of adrenaline. 

“Alright, we can put it in the box,” Arthur agrees gently. “But the vet is closed right now, so we’ll have to wait until morning until we can take him.” There’s no use in arguing with Phillipa when she’s like this, she’s too much like her mother for that. And her father. Both parents can be stubborn assholes, if you ask Arthur. However, Phillipa still looks cute when she’s being a pain in his ass, Dom doesn’t have that excuse.

“We’ll put the box in a quiet place so the bat can rest,” he decides, taking the shoebox and the lid from Phillipa. It’s actually kind of convenient that the bat is in the corner behind the trash can: Arthur can close in from both sides with the box and the lid and scoop the animal in without too much of a fuss. There’s flapping and squeaking and some internal cursing (probably both from Arthur and the bat), but he manages. He blows out a deep breath of relief when he can close the lid. 

The shoebox has a round hole on one end, which provides air flow for the animal, but is probably too small for the bat to escape through. It is big enough for a grape to fit through, which is the food they settle on when the kids insist that they feed the poor animal. Arthur doubts if the bat will eat the grape, but he’s not going to go outside to catch insects for the little fucker. 

He’s able to convince the kids that they can put the bat in the laundry room, behind closed doors. He thinks that dying animals have the habit of crawling away somewhere and therefore thinks it better to keep it contained. He does leave the window open on a crack, in case the poor animal manages to get up to the windowsill and prefers to die outside. 

After all that excitement it takes him well over an hour to put the kids to bed and another half an hour to clean up both the kitchen and the contents of Phillipa’s craft box that are strewn over the floor of the living room. When all that is done, Arthur settles down with a large glass of red wine from Mal’s inventory. He’s earned it, he figures. He also hopes the bat will have the decency to die in the course of the night, or at least escape.

***

Before the crack of dawn there are two children jumping up and down beside his bed, exclaiming that they want to go see the bat. Arthur regrets pouring himself the second and third glass of red wine, but rolls out of bed anyway. Both James and Phillipa are early risers and he’s used to getting up early with them when he’s babysitting. He’ll catch up on his sleep when he gets back home in a few days. 

“Alright, alright,” he grumbles, pulling on a bathrobe over his T-shirt and boxers sleeping combo. It’s one of Dom’s, so it’s slightly big on him, but it’s a beautiful shade of night blue and incredibly soft. Maybe Arthur will keep it as payment for all the shit he has to put up with this weekend. He would like to find the sash first, if he’s to keep it. For now, he can just forgo closing the robe. It’s just him and the kids in the house anyway. Just like his sleep, his fashion sense can take a backseat until he gets back home.

James and Phillipa run down the stairs in front of him, excited to go see their little sleepover guest. Who might be dead. Or gone in the wind. Arthur hopes it’s the latter, it would save him having to clean up the body. 

“Wait a second, kids.” He manages to catch up with them before they open the door. “We have to be careful when we open the door, the bat may have escaped the box.” 

Arthur gets the sudden vision of a bat flapping around like crazy in the laundry room and immediately isn’t all that keen on opening the door. But there are two very excited kids crowding him, so he has no other choice. 

He opens the door and - 

“Oh my fucking god!” Arthur does some sort of karate move with his leg and one arm to catch the two kids around the middle and shove them back into the kitchen, slamming the door shut with his free hand.

He tries to catch his breath as his mind races. He knows Dom owns a gun. Where would he keep it? In the safe? Arthur doesn’t know the combination. Where’s his phone? Still on the nightstand next to his bed. Maybe he can use a knife - 

“Why is there a man sitting on the floor of our laundry room?” Phillipa looks between the door and Arthur and back. Then it’s like there’s a little light turning on above her head. “Oh! Is he a vampire?”

Arthur rifles through the kitchen drawers. Do knives even work against vampires? Probably not if they’re made of stainless steel. And the only silver knife he can find in this kitchen is an antique looking butter knife. If that’s even real silver. 

He doesn’t know much about vampires, just that they’re not the bloodthirsty monsters the media painted them as back in the day. Still, he has two little kids and a stranger in his house. A stranger who is a vampire. 

“Hello!” Little James opens the door and waddles inside, taking advantage of Arthur’s spot over by the cutlery drawer. 

“James, no!” Arthur sprints towards the kid, ready to jump between the vampire and the little boy. 

“Hello, laddy,” the vampire says, smiling at the child. “Is your daddy always this nervous?” 

“He’s not my daddy,” James answers blithely in that way little kids have. “That’s A’thur.”

“My daddy says Arthur has a stick up his butt,” Phillipa adds, wholly unnecessary. Arthur only sputters his indignation, too stunned to say much. The vampire huffs a laugh, entirely too amused for someone who may or may not be guilty of home invasion. Sort of. Arthur isn’t too sure of the technicalities on this one.

However, the man sitting on the floor of the laundry room is indeed a vampire. Arthur can see his fangs when the man smirks crookedly at him. It’s kind of charming, in an annoying way. There’s a flattened shoe box beneath his thigh and he’s holding his left shoulder gingerly. 

“Did you dislocate your shoulder?” Arthur asks stupidly, remembering the oddly positioned batwing from the night before. 

“I did,” the vampire nods. “Popped it back in right before you lot stormed in.” 

“Does it hurt?” Phillipa asks.

The vampire smiles at her. “Don’t worry, darling. I’m made of sturdy stuff.” 

Sturdy indeed, Arthur can’t help but think as the vampire gets to his feet with a soft grunt. The man is broad shouldered, with strong thighs and a smattering of hair showing through the opened top buttons of his frankly alarming shirt. It’s a dirty shade of peach, with an eye watering print. Arthur didn’t know they still sold paisley print. If he has to stare at this shirt for a little longer he’ll feel compelled to file an official protest against it.

The vampire looks down and spots the flattened box, making a small noise of distress that Arthur thinks is quite cute. He’s a bit startled by this notion and shakes his head to get rid of it. There’s an unknown vampire in the house and he has to stay vigilant, even though the man doesn’t seem all that dangerous. He discards his ideas of finding a weapon for now, it doesn’t seem necessary in this case. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry, my dear,” the vampire says ruefully to Phillipa. “It seems like I accidentally ruined one of your creations.” He bends over to retrieve the flattened cardboard from the floor, holding his left arm carefully against his stomach so he won’t jostle it too much.

“That’s okay,” Phillipa says genially, taking the box from him. “I can make another one. Mama just bought new shoes, I can use that box.”

“Mister, are you a vampire?” James peers up at the man, studying him intently. 

The vampire inclines his head. “I am. But you can call me Eames, little man.” 

A vampire called Eames, who wears paisley shirts and tan chinos above a pair of slightly ratty loafers. He talks with a British accent too; not the posh one, something more urban probably. He’s the strangest vampire Arthur has ever seen. Not that he has met a lot of them, but still. 

“Are you okay? You look a little peaky.” Now that he’s standing for a few minutes, Arthur can see the hunch in his shoulders and a slight sheen of sweat on his brow. His shoulder must be causing him pain, that much is clear. 

“I’ll be alright, darling.” The vampire winks at him and there’s that crooked smirk again. “But I could do with a drink.”

“You’re not drinking my blood!” Arthur exclaims, rather dramatically. “Nor that of the kids!” He hauls Phillipa and James backwards, instantly wary of the man in front of them. His bathrobe billows around him with the movement.

The vampire lifts his hands apologetically and cocks his head. “Not that kind of drink. A glass of water will do just fine for now.”

“Oh, alright.” Arthur deflates and eyes the vampire critically, as much as he can in his slightly rattled state of mind. The man seems to try and make himself as non-threatening as possible, with a - slightly strained - smile and a casual pose. It could be an act, of course, yet Arthur doesn’t think the vampire means them harm. If he wanted to, he could’ve easily hurt them already. Arthur is by no means an expert on vampires, but he knows they’re stronger than regular humans. They need to drink blood, but can also eat normal food - though he thinks there are some allergies in play. He has the sudden urge to make a deep dive into vampire research. But he can’t, because he has two excited kids and an exhausted vampire to take care of right now. So he makes the executive decision to invite the vampire - Eames - into the kitchen, pointing him to a chair at the kitchen table, which he gratefully sinks down onto. 

“I’ve had better nights, let me tell you,” Eames shares with a grimace, massaging his chest close to his left shoulder with his hand. “Thank you, darling,” he says absentmindedly when Arthur places a glass of water in front of him. 

Arthur decides to chalk the pet names up to the vampire’s Britishness and not pay them much mind. He takes a seat across from the vampire, next to Phillipa who is staring riveted at their unexpected guest. Arthur would’ve expected James to have already lost interest and to wander off into the living room to play with his toys, but the toddler is sitting right next to his sister, equally mesmerised. 

“Are you like a hundred years old?” Phillipa has her elbows on the table and her head in her hands. Arthur doesn’t check, but he bets her feet are swinging beneath the table.

James is sitting on his knees on the chair, leaning his hands on the table. “Do you eat people?” 

“No and no,” Eames says with a chuckle. He’s looking perfectly at ease in the kitchen, despite looking a little haggard. Arthur watches him take a sip of the water.

“Can you turn into a bat?” James asks next, to which his sister makes an exasperated sound.

“Of course he can! You saw him last night! He was a bat!” 

“That was me, indeed.” Another sip of water.

“Why are you a bat?” James again. He’ll probably be talking about this day for the rest of the month, or even the year. Not that there’s much of the year left, it’s November already.

Eames laughs. “Well, the simplest answer would be: because I can. It’s pretty darn cool to be able to fly, you know?” The kids nod excitedly at his words and even Arthur has to admit that it would be cool to be able to fly. “But I also hu-” Eames catches himself in time. “I go look for food as a bat.” 

While the kids grill the vampire for what he likes to eat (surprise, it’s not grapes), Arthur’s mind fills with gruesome images of Eames on the hunt. To be honest, inside his head the vampire looks more like a chupacabra than the innocuous bat Crookshanks brought into the house last night, so it’s a little startling to hear the vampire declare he likes raw steak.

“We have steak! Right, Arthur? We have steak!” Phillipa pulls on his sleeve, reminding Arthur he’s still dressed in Dom’s bathrobe, with his boxers and an old T-shirt underneath. He’s a little horrified, for whole different reasons than when he was imagining chupacabra Eames ravaging an unsuspecting victim. 

“Uh, yes. We do.” He’d taken the kids shopping yesterday and planned to make a steak salad for himself tonight, while the kids ate a dinosaur shaped hamburger with their greens.

“Can Eames have it?” Phillipa bounces in her seat. “I bet he’s hungry! You’re hungry, right?” 

To Arthur’s surprise the vampire is looking a little abashed. “I mean, your cat did interrupt my plans for the night, yes. But you don’t have to feed me! I’ll be fine.”

Arthur is more than happy to take him on his word, but then Phillipa says: “Arthur is a good cook! He can make you something really yummy!” 

“Can I have steak?” James asks, looking at Arthur expectantly.

“You don’t like steak, buddy,” Arthur answers gently. “Remember? You think it’s too chewy. That’s why we bought the dino burgers.”

“Oh, yeah.” James processes this and then proceeds to ask for dino burgers. Of course.

“No, bud. It’s breakfast time. Dino burgers are for dinner.” Arthur glances at the clock, which is at just past seven. He can’t believe he’s been up for an hour already, on a Saturday.

He shoves his chair back, getting up. “I guess I’m making breakfast. No steak for you,” he adds with a pointed stare at little James. “Or dino burgers. You can have cereal.”

He starts gathering ingredients for the kids’ breakfast and turns on the coffee maker. It’s no wonder he feels so rattled, he hasn’t had his coffee yet. “Any for you?” he asks their guest, pausing to see if he has to get one or two cups down from the cupboard.

The vampire shakes his head. “No, thanks. I’ll take some tea if you have it?” 

“Is that on account of being British or being a vampire?”

Eames smiles, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “A bit of both, I guess. These days coffee no longer agrees with my stomach, unfortunately.” Which Arthur guesses is a polite way of saying he can no longer digest coffee. He also deduces that Eames hasn’t always been a vampire and wonders how long it’s been.

He thinks about putting a mug in the microwave to heat up the water, but decides against it, both out of consideration for Eames’ nationality and his own standards. The electric kettle will take a little longer, but at least it won’t incite another civil war. 

Puttering around in the kitchen, getting breakfast ready for the kids and hot drinks for the adults, Arthur is a little slow to realise that the sun has come up. And that the kitchen faces the East. “Oh, shit,” he huffs and hurries to close the blinds. When he turns to face Eames, the vampire is watching him intently, an odd softness around his eyes. It lasts only a moment, until Eames speaks up, quietly.

“Thank you. I won’t burst into flames from the first ray of sunlight, but thanks anyway.”

“Yeah, of course,” Arthur says automatically, putting the bowls of cereal in front of the kids and handing them their spoons. And then: “Oh my god, how are we gonna get you out of here? Do we have to wait until nightfall?”

“Well, you could always just chuck me out if you’re that desperate to get rid of me,” Eames suggests and it sounds just off-handed enough that Arthur doesn’t believe in the vampire’s pretence. 

“I don’t -... I’m not -...” Arthur starts and stops two sentences that he has no idea of how to finish. He sighs and wraps the bathrobe tight around himself. “I’m a little out of my depth here,” he admits. “I have no idea what to do with a strange vampire in my house. Or, not my house, but… Oh, you get what I’m saying!” He throws his hands up and the bathrobe falls open again. 

Eames gets up from the table, rounds it in what Arthur suspects is a sedated pace put on just for him and his frail nerves and comes to stand in front of him. “Not a stranger,” Eames says gently. And he picks up his cup of tea and hands Arthur his coffee. “There you go, love. Careful, that’s hot.” 

The coffee is indeed scaldingly hot down his throat, but it suffices in bringing Arthur back to his senses. “Right,” he says, putting down his cup on the counter. “You take your steak bloody, I presume?” 

He waves away Eames’ protests and grabs the grill pan for the shortest grill he has ever done. The meat has barely a chance to brown before the vampire next to him declares it done. It’s barely seasoned either, again under Eames’ directions. It’s absolutely not done the way Arthur usually prepares his food, but who is he to argue with any dietary restrictions the vampire has?

He plates the steak and is about to hand it to his impromptu guest, when the guy suddenly darts around him, taking up a strategic spot behind Arthur and with the fridge in the corner of the kitchen at his back. “What the -?”

An angry hiss answers his question. It’s Crookshanks, who stalks into the kitchen like the apex predator he actually is. And Eames is afraid of him, even though he is a 5’ 9” adult male right now instead of a small bat.

Arthur can’t help but laugh. It’s all so ridiculous! He hands the plate to Eames without looking, trusting that the man will take it from him and steps forward to scoop Crookshanks up from the ground. “Silly cat,” he admonishes, shaking the bundle of fur in his arms lightly. “You can’t eat Eames. Come on, outside you go!” 

When he comes back into the kitchen, he finds Eames sitting in his spot at the kitchen table, hunched over his plate. The vampire is deliberately not looking at him and the tips of his ears are clearly red. The kids are chattering nonsensically in between bites of their cereal, talking at their new friend but not expecting any real answer.

It’s not until Arthur has made himself some toast and sits down with it, this time next to Eames, that the vampire speaks up again. “If I can use your phone, I can call my friend to see if he can come pick me up.”

“Sure,” Arthur agrees.

After breakfast, Eames calls a friend called Yusuf. Unfortunately, his friend is unable to pick him up right away. “He can be here around noon,” Eames tells Arthur, clearly feeling contrite. 

“And you can’t go out during daylight,” Arthur surmises.

Eames shrugs. “Can’t exactly take the bus home, no. Or, I mean, I can. I’ve done it before, when in a pinch. Though I’d have to borrow a duffel coat, or something.” The vampire seems to shrink in on himself. “I can understand if you want me out of here as soon as possible.”

Strangely, Arthur’s first hunch is to reassure Eames that he’s welcome to stay as long as needed. It surprises him. He’s not one to trust easily and he’s always very protective of his honorary niece and nephew. The man across from him is a vampire and, despite his friendly behaviour, still a potential threat. However, Arthur doesn’t think Eames is a danger to them. He can’t pinpoint exactly what makes him think that, it’s not like the vampire has been very generous with information about himself. Still, the facts speak for themselves. Arthur’s been walking around barefoot, dressed in sleep clothes and a bathrobe, with two small kids in tow, and he hasn’t felt threatened by Eames at all. Well, alright, when he first discovered that there was a vampire in the laundry room he panicked a bit, but that fear was quickly diminished by the - unconventionally charming - way Eames presented himself. It’s hard to stay vigilant when the vampire is so easy going.

“Mr Eames? Do you have to go already?” Phillipa and James have popped up right next to them, James actually grabbing the tail of the vampire’s shirt to get his attention.

Eames shows them a warm smile. “That’s kind of up to Arthur.”

Of course, that only serves in having two sets of puppy eyes aimed at Arthur. They’re practically begging him to give in. Great. Now he has to deal not only with his own oddly lowered defences, but the wiles of two little kids too.

He locks eyes with Eames, just for a second, but it’s enough. “Alright, alright. You don’t have to look at me like that. Mr Eames is welcome to stay until his friend can pick him up.”

The kids cheer and the smile that forms on the vampire’s face is blinding. Arthur can’t help but smile too.

They build a blanket fort in the living room. It’s Phillipa’s idea, she loves blanket forts. It also doubles as protection from the sun for their guest vampire, since the living room doesn’t have black out blinds and the sun is climbing higher in the sky. 

Eames is in the back of the blanket fort, sitting on a pillow with his back against the sofa. Arthur sits next to him, because he might’ve let the vampire stay, he’s not stupid enough to leave the kids alone with Eames. The back of the blanket fort is also the only place that’s big enough to fit an adult. It’s a bit cramped with two adults though. 

The kids are at the entrance of the fort, laying on their bellies and watching Frozen on DVD. Between the kids and Arthur is a serving tray sitting on the floor with glasses of lemonade and a plate of cookies. Arthur has to pull up his legs to prevent himself from kicking over the glasses. He would feel more annoyed about that, if not for the vampire next to him. “This is nice,” Eames said when they first settled in, a hesitant smile on his face and wonder in his eyes. And Arthur just had to agree. 

“So you’ve been a vampire since your early twenties?” Arthur asks and Eames nods. They’ve been talking in lowered voices, neither of them very interested in the enchanted snow man and his two princess friends on screen. “You don’t look like you’re twenty. I thought vampires didn’t age?”

Eames laughs. “That would be nice, wouldn’t it? I bet a lot more people would choose this lifestyle if that were true. But nah, we still age. Just a bit slower.”

“But the sunlight bit is true, right? You said you wouldn’t catch fire, but it still hurts you.”

“Unfortunately.” Eames pulls a face. “I was always very fond of the warmer climates. Turns out, it’s not as fun when you can’t go to the beach.”

“Should’ve thought that through beforehand,” Arthur remarks flippantly, reaching for his glass of lemonade. He’s sat back and taken a drink before he notices the sudden stiffness in the vampire’s posture. When he looks over, Eames avoids his gaze in the dim light of the blanket fort. “Oh, shit. I’ve put my foot in my mouth, haven’t I?” 

“Nah, you’re fine, love. Couldn’t have known.” Eames glances over and away again. “Sensitive topic, that’s all.”

They’re quiet for a bit, watching the movie over the kids’ heads. When Elsa sings her famous song, Arthur catches the vampire mouthing along with the words. “What?” Eames asks defensively. “It’s quite the earworm.”

Arthur smiles and picks up on the chorus, making Phillipa sing along too. Eames has a terrible singing voice, it turns out, but that doesn’t stop him one bit.

They watch some Paw Patrol after the movie ends, and a whole lot of Fireman Sam. Arthur gets up a few times, to help James to the bathroom and to remove Crookshanks from their blanket fort, but he keeps crawling back into the fort, taking his spot next to Eames. At some point, they’ve sagged down to lean against each other, shoulder to shoulder, falling into that odd trance from watching too many kids’ shows. When Arthur argues that the town of Pontypandy should just get rid of Norman, that horrible kid that does nothing but cause trouble, he hardly gets a response from Eames. “Fireman Sam should just push him off a cliff,” Arthur states, only to be met with a soft snore from the vampire. Eames has fallen asleep, his head half on Arthur’s shoulder, half leaning against the sofa seat. Arthur can’t bring himself to move.

When the doorbell rings, around noon as was arranged, it causes enough commotion that Arthur is fairly sure Eames doesn’t pick up on the fact that he’d been sleeping on Arthur’s shoulder just before. Just as well, because Arthur has been eating himself up about it for the past hour and is no closer to knowing what it means and if he even wants it to mean something.

Phillipa and James race for the front door and open it to a round faced man with black curls and a friendly smile. “Hello, you must be Yusuf,” Arthur greets, stepping forward with his hand out. “Arthur Freeman.”

“Nice to meet you,” Yusuf says with a smile and a handshake. “Thank you for putting up with this scoundrel. I hope he hasn’t been too much trouble?” He flicks a meaningful look over Arthur’s shoulder, where Eames is hovering in the doorway of the partially glass walled foyer of the house. “I got your coat,” Yusuf says, holding the black duffle coat he’s carrying over one arm up a little. 

And then there’s the gathering of things - even though Eames didn’t bring anything with him but the clothes on his back - and the saying of thanks and goodbyes. The vampire apologises again to Phillipa for ruining her “beautifully decorated” craft box and promises James to be more on guard when it comes to cats.

Said cat comes wandering into the hall and Arthur has to scoop him up and hold him because the furry bastard seems way too interested in Eames’ pants legs. Yusuf thinks it’s a delight that Eames got caught by a cat who got named after a character from the Harry Potter franchise, because of course the kids happily fill him in on that.

And just like that, Eames is bundled up in the coat, the hood pulled up and ready to go out the door. His eyes lock with Arthur, the kids, Yusuf and the cat between them, and then he is gone. 

Later, after Arthur gets back from taking the kids to the playground to let them get rid of their energy, he finds a handwritten note next to the kitchen phone. It says: Thank you for taking care of me. I didn’t think getting caught by a cat would have its upsides, but meeting you definitely was a big plus. There’s three little x’s at the bottom and a cellphone number. 

That night, Arthur curls up on the sofa with a glass of wine and Crookshanks lying on the seat cushion next to him. He snaps a picture of the sleeping cat and sends it to the number that he programmed into his phone that afternoon. [I’ll keep an eye on him. Safe hunting tonight. X Arthur]

[pademelonluck]

when the marauders are changing back.

james: phew, moony, you okay? remus: i'm a werewolf, no i'm not okay. sirius: yeah, he broke a rib. james: peter, why aren't you changing back? peter:(staying a rat) crookshanks:(runs and catches the rat, eat's it. sirius: oh, my god! peter! peter: what, i'm right here. james: wrong rat...

[chocor0se]

Some info about Anna Lark, my PJO x HP OC

Child of Hermes

Around 2 years younger than Percy (set in modern times)

Becomes friends of Hermione first, then Neville, then Harry and Ron

Meets Luna during GOF, after new traumatization during the war

They bond over being crazy and seeing thestrals

Becomes sorta friends with Draco during POA (if he’s getting a redemption arc might as well start early)

Dog person though she’s still fond of Crookshanks

Definitely sees Ronmione before they do

Has a dagger given to her by Luke after an unsavory encounter with a man that’s the same material(s) as Backbiter

Not the Kronos parts or the portal openers though

Gets a lot of letters from her siblings and friends from camp, to the dissatisfaction of her owl

Owl’s name is Hermes

She has respect for the gods, but couldn’t help herself from naming him that

AroAce, though she doesn’t exactly know it yet

Has a fear of people leaving her

Is definitely stressed out about the second wizarding war when it starts

Can read people easily

Tries not to get into fights due to being kicked out of three schools before Hogwarts

First grade teacher was actually a monster so Anna pushed her out a window which is why she got expelled the first time since it still survived

Other two times were just because of stacked up penalties

Very good flier, but not that interested in playing quidditch much to her housemates’ displeasure

Likes jumping from rooftop to rooftop, this does not go away once she gets to Hogwarts

if you want to read about her look at my pinned post for my ao3!!

[dhr-ao3]

Penultimate

Penultimate https://ift.tt/8MEDwsg by cassiopeia_xafod It starts with a mysterious event at a Hogwarts reunion that drags Hermione Granger and the recently reformed Draco Malfoy into the thick of a new mystery. Just when they thought they could coast through life post-Voldemort, a sinister remnant of the past throws everything off balance. Meet Apollo, the Potters' old family cat, who’s more than just a fluffy bystander. Apollo is the unwitting keeper of a dark secret—one that's about to turn the wizarding world upside down again. As random wizards and witches begin acting strangely, it's clear that the troubles of the past aren't quite finished with them yet. Dragged into the chaos, Draco, now a professor with a dark history and a penchant for brooding, finds himself working alongside Hermione, Ministry auror and the brains behind their unlikely duo. As they navigate this new crisis, the lines between old enemies and allies blur, sparking not just a hunt for the truth but an unexpected truce. With a mix of dry wit and a dash of reluctant teamwork, Penultimate isn't just a tale of magical mishaps and feline foes—it's a story about finding light in dark times and changing one's destiny, one spell at a time. Words: 4878, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: F/M Characters: Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger, Theodore Nott, Pansy Parkinson, Harry Potter, Ginny Weasley, Padma Patil, Blaise Zabini, Original Characters, Luna Lovegood, Neville Longbottom Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy Additional Tags: Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Fluff and Humor, Mutual Pining, Mutually Unrequited, Pining Draco Malfoy, Romance, Drama & Romance, Angst with a Happy Ending, Enemies to Lovers, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Draco Malfoy Needs a Hug, Protective Draco Malfoy, Draco Malfoy is Bad at Feelings, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, Sexual Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Good Narcissa Black Malfoy, Supportive Narcissa Black Malfoy, BAMF Narcissa Black Malfoy, Jealous Draco Malfoy, Co-workers, Post-Hogwarts, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, HEA, Using Humor as a coping mechanism, Action & Romance, Crookshanks is a Little Shit (Harry Potter), Crookshanks will fight god or become him, the cat lives, Apollo is the devil but we love him for it, Sarcastic cats, Sarcastic Hermione Granger, Auror Harry Potter, Professor Draco Malfoy, BAMF Hermione Granger, no beta we die like men, Horcrux Hunting, Mystery, Spice via AO3 works tagged 'Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy' https://ift.tt/bIfMhKc July 01, 2024 at 05:29PM

[limetimo]

RAB fics I read (aug pt1)

A Love Already Lost by orphan_account after the war Garlie comes to Grimmauld place... and falls in love

The Fighting and Most Sensible Brothers Black by Haunted_Frost Sirius and Regulus being brothers ♥ (Regulus lives)

A Different Type of Furry Little Problem by blueartemis07 regulus is crookshanks and terrorises Snape (amongst other)

My Life As A Cat by orphan_account regulus is crookshanks, funny

Strange Bedfellows by runrarebit more about sirius but regulus is there and everyone is gay and needs therapy

To have and to hold by runrarebit BLACK HEIR WEDS BASTARD PRINCE by runrarebit Family Ties by runrarebit Moving On by runrarebit Bonds by runrarebit War's End by runrarebit Devotion by runrarebit - all part of a series where Regulus and Severus are dating, deflecting and kicking butt and in Devotion they go polyamorous together with Sirius

you don't owe her shit (even if she said you did) by sapphicgingers Regulus faces Walburga and James is a supportive boyfriend

Shades of Purple by startohismoon jegulus, ace regulus

Seven Minutes In Heaven - Jegulus by MaraudersWhore4 jegulus, what it says on the tin

Mon amour by Moonchild206 jegulus coming out

I Have Scars (And I Hate Them) by Julmust123 regulus has scars from the cave and James makes him feel better about them

we begin in the dark by allalrightagain Regulus/Peter :D

birch trees loom by AllLivesMatter im just going to lie on the floor and have FEELS bye.

For Reasons Unknown by m3535, Zayhad Remus/Regulus

Regulus black and some (not so) terrible dates by finnhatessnivulus barty is here to save regulus form dating misadventures

Cat, Dog, and Stag by LupinsChocolatePraline they're all animagi your honour

I didn’t sign up for this by Moonystoastandmarsbars huhuehehehHEHEHE *unhinged chuckling* certified bacherlor Sirius Black gets a shock of his life when he find a 4 year old nephew he didn't know he had on his doorstep. wolfstar is slowly figuring things out and Regulus becomes the top bitch at the prison.

Mauvais jour de cheveux by Xo_flower McG has to deal with BLack brother's bs

pride and guilt by theprodigypenguin james survives Haloween and Dumbledore moves him in with a very reluctant Regulus ♥ Stupid Deep by theprodigypenguin former version of pride and guilt

The Phoenix Agency by LupinsChocolatePraline this one's about Sirius but he reconnects with Regulus in later chapters, modern muggle au

Nothing Was As It Was Told by BTSgotmeonahigh harry time travels to marauders era andlets them read the Harry potter books and stuff changes

1979 by Trex_patronus part of series where regulus went to Azkaban, this is Sirius' reaction to finding out

what are we by picklesonsaturday Sirisu and Severus fuck and talk about Regulus

A Different Route To Azkaban by Anonymous Severus is dating both Sirius and Regulus but for spy purposes, sad

All Is (Not) Forgiven by Demon_Pangun0817 diversity wins! james potter is a bad boyfriend

our choices seal our fate by unlikecharlie I LOVE when reg kidnaps baby harry

getaway car by grimjobs everyone's possessive horny bastards

Stars Of A Kind by orphan_account jegulus

Coming Out by Regneededswimlessons maraudesr and slytherin skittles and chaos and jegulus and wolfstar

Invisible String (Tying you to me) by not_very_sirius jegulus texting fic

blindfolded sight by rheadaholyc for NeonDomino wolfstar focused, regulus is a good bro (even tho he's a little shit)

towards the edge (closer and closer) by grimjobs jegulus sexy times

religion's in your lips (even if it's a false god) by grimjobs trans regulus jegulus sexy times

king of my heart by grimjobs they're daft your honour, jegulus

The Bite is Eternal by phantasmaraneae vampire regulus turns vampire hunter Sirius into his thrall to "save his life" but really mostly he just wants to fuck

On the ice (there’s warmth between us) by hallyticket FIGURE SKATER REGULUS! gets struck teaching a class to hockey players, amongst them one james potter and his very own estranged brother (trans regulus)

Whatever happened to the young, young lovers? by georgia_sk BAMF regulus, jegulus, rosekiller, wolfstar, and a lot of violence that makes them horny

Please Don't Confuse Fantasy With Truth by phantasmaraneae Regulus/Sirius fuck kinkily and magic goes poof and well mpreg happens

i'll be seeing you by residentrookie !!!!!!!! modern muggle James (2022) swaps places with canon James (1979) and goes on an adventure with nearly drowned Regulus Black while his modern era friends scramble to get him back :D

[greenerteacups]

The newest chapter had me grinning like an idiot…but I had to give you kudos on an older line: the gerbil comment. That made me LAUGH OUT LOUD. Paraphrasing: what did you do to your gerbil? Nothing!!!! Never lending her an owl. SO FUNNY AND ENDEARING. Also, what did she do to her gerbil 😂😂😂

it's my personal idea that hermione is a wonderful and attentive caretaker in terms of intellectual and emotional needs, but she's not great at basic quality-of-life care, like feeding, watering, enrichment, etc., because that kind of routine activity strikes me as the kind of thing that would slip her mind as soon as she got interested in something more complicated. this is admittedly drawn from my personal experience as a Type-A plant lover who cannot for the love of god remember when and how to water her plants. anyway I think she vibes with pets like Crookshanks (& Thucydides!) because they're very smart, so they can (1) kind of forage for themselves when she forgets, and (2) know how to remind her about the Keeping Us Alive bit when it slips her mind. so, the TLDR is I think Hermione would have begged her parents for a pet as a kid, likely a cat, and then got a gerbil as a preliminary compromise/test run — only to get bored and have Some Sort of Incident where it runs away/escapes because she tried to play with it and then forgot about it. and that's the Gerbil Incident.

[v-a-l]

No but see. You don’t get it. You don’t get how much this flamboyant babygirl means to me and I can’t- I want him back. The fiercely loyal, prodigal Sirius who’d take on the world for those he loved.

The Sirius that was sensuous and graceful and like a barely tamed wild thing. The Sirius that eviscerated people with same sharp tongue that he’d tangle with James Potter’s after they’d indulged in a few extra butterbeers than they should have. The Sirius who’d have probably invented a new branch of magic cause he was bored. The Sirius who got Harry his first and his last broom. The Sirius who was best friends with Buckbeak and the Sirius who Crookshanks was willing to die for. The Sirius who was kind kind kind inspite of how horrible the world was to him. The Sirius who wouldn’t have cared if Dung sold his silver and the Sirius who gave away his motorbike so Hagrid could take Harry to Dumbledore safely and the Sirius who unrepentantly played a murderous prank on Snape and the Sirius who pasted a smile on his face in order meetings where they walked all over him in his own house and the Sirius Harry cast an Unforgivable for and the Sirius who was dynamic and passionate and larger than life and who spent a third of his life in solitary confinement. The Sirius who was powerful and terrifying and regal and laughing and handsome and silly and the most beautiful thing any of them had ever seen.

God how I miss you my beloved

[scatteredstrings]

November Reading List

Completed

Crookshanks' Chronicles by pinkhairandbooks

In the Garden of Shadows by alexandra_emerson

Petrichor by sweetestsorrows (katschako)

Sad Eyes by CaityBell

The Debt of Time by ShayaLonnie

The Gods Must Be Crazy by MistressLynn

The Fallout by everythursday

One Shots

A Change of Plans by Sincerely_vas

After Eight by Dara_Art, sodamnrad

All In Good Time by Musyc

apples & cream by LovesBitca8

Family Life by CosmicCthulhu

how the kingdom lights shined just for me and you by AdAsttra

Quando Bate Aquela Saudade by CosmicCthulhu

Say Less by sodamnrad

Something Blue, Something Borrowed by gloivy

The Auror Who Cried (Were)Wolf by ChaosAndCrumpets

The New Head Auror by CosmicCthulhu

The Vanishing Drawer by sodamnrad

Watch With Me, Granger by slytherindiaries

WIP

A Chance to Choose by forgotten_traveler

A Game of High Stakes by In_Dreams

A Secret That Can Kill by BlueZeldana

Child of War by Catmint and Thyme (Languish_Locked_in_L)

Cursed Marriage by BlueZeldana

Ferrets and Fun by CaityBell

i am your fall by AdAsttra

Jamais Vu by CosmicCthulhu

Kingdom Come by inadaze22, jaxxinabox

Let The Dark In by senlinyu

On Pineapples and Principal Penetration by ChaosAndCrumpets

Prism by sweetestsorrows (katschako)

The Half-Blood Demon by Catmint and Thyme (Languish_Locked_in_L)

[hsika92]

10 books to know me📚

Thank you @rays-of-raven for the tag!! I’m also going to ramble and quote some stuff from the books 🥰

1. If We Were Villains by M.L Rio- I dont even remember why I bought this book but all I can say is that it has me in a chokehold. I love it more than anything. Also I’m having a very difficult time picking a single favourite quote, but this is the most relatable one for me.

“For someone who loved words as much as I did, it was amazing how often they failed me.”

2. The perks of being a wallflower by Stephen Chbosky - I borrowed this from my school’s library and I’ve never been the same person since. The movie did the book kinda dirty but I still loved every second of it. I can’t pick one quote so here are my two favourites.

“We accept the love we think we deserve.”

“We are infinite.”

3. The Secret History by Donna Tartt- I have a lot of feelings about this book, mostly positive ones but the incest obviously threw me off a bit. Overall the story was very good and after reading the restaurant scene I could definitely understand why they killed Bunny. Also, again I can’t pick one quote.

“Cubitum eamus?”

“Forgive me for the things I did, but mostly for the ones I did not do.”

4. I’ll give you the sun by Jandy Nelson- I know exactly why I bought this book, I remember watching a vid about it and seeing that there are twins and I’m a twin, so I immediately bought it. This quote represents me and my twin brother pretty well.

“I love you” I say to him, only it comes out as, “hey”

“So damn much” he says back, only it comes out as, “dude.”

5. The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller- This book had me crying for hours, im still inconsolable. Can we talk about the fact that Achilles tried to slit his throat after seeing Patroclus’ corpse???

“I am made of memories.”

“What has Hector ever done to me?”

6. The outsiders by S.E Hinton- I actually watched the movie first but god the brainrot immediately made me buy the book.

“Stay gold, Ponyboy, stay gold.”

“Dally didn’t die a hero. He died violent and young and desperate, just like we all knew he’d die someday.”

7. Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban by J.K Rowling- No explanation needed.

“Lupin was lowering his wand. Next moment, he had walked to Black’s side, seized his hand, pulled him to his feet so that Crookshanks fell to the floor, and embraced Black like a brother.”

“I would have died before I betrayed them.”

8. The Catcher in the Rye by J.D Salinger- I only bought this book because of an anime I watched and after reading it I definitely understood why that character in the anime loved it. I still associate it with him to this day.

“I'd just be the catcher in the rye and all. I know it's crazy, but that's the only thing I'd really like to be.”

9. Alas: Apollo and Hyacinthus by Richard C Gray- I was looking for a retelling of their story and coincidentally found this one. Its a really nice and short read.

“To have met you in my mere mortal life has been my privilege but to have been loved by you has become my immortality.”

10. Lottie and Lisa/ Das doppelte Lottchen- It was gifted to me by a friend of my mum, I adore this book. I used to read it every single night before going to sleep. I only have the original/German version so there won’t be a quote.

Hmmm, I think everyone I know has been tagged so far, but there’s one more person I need to do this. @neaverse (no pressure if you don’t want to!!)

[sailtomarina]

I need your permission

Theirs was a new romance, something fresh off the cauldron and still simmering with unrealized fantasies and hopes for all the future held. The relationship was public and had been for a number of weeks, but was only truly a surprise to those outside of their circles. To everyone else, their fascination with one another was obvious.

So it came as a surprise when Hermione admitted Draco still hadn’t visited her flat, a modest, two-room apartment in a trendy neighborhood near Diagon Alley. They spent all their time at his place, or the manor’s library, or Theo’s.

“It’s been what, two months now?” Harry’s look of skepticism had her feeling oddly guilty.

“Something like that, but it’s not like I made a conscious decision to avoid my place. Everywhere else just seems more…suitable.”

Harry’s eyes carded around her living room, taking in the wall of bookshelves, mismatched furniture, the army of potted plants taking up every surface and window. Her place was small, but lived in like a home should be.

“Ah yes, this hovel must be beneath Malfoy.”

She smacked him over the head with a cushion. “That’s not what I meant and you know it!”

“Then what do you mean?”

Hermione chewed on her lip, clearly uncertain about whether or not she should tell him. Harry was her best friend who supposedly knew her better than anyone else. There probably wasn’t a better person to ask.

“When you look at my home, what do you see?”

“Books. Also…books.”

“Harry, I’m serious!”

“Furniture meant to sleep on. They’re comfy. A jungle of plants I suspect you sourced from Neville. Too many cat toys. A scary amount of wall space dedicated to platforms for Crookshanks—”

“And what do cats shed?”

“…is this a trick question?”

In triumph, Hermione gestured wildly at her surroundings and Harry realized the sofa and chairs were indeed covered in signature orange hairs.

“I can’t have Draco coming over here getting covered in Crookshanks! Have you seen the clothes that man wears?”

“Here’s a thought: how about you just clean? You know, a common chore we all do to keep our homes livable?”

She snorted. “Obviously. I clean as frequently as I can, but you know me, Harry. I’m busy. I’m out more often than in. I don’t clean up as much as I should and I just don’t want to bother with worrying about it when there are tons of other places we can go instead.”

Harry stared at her for a moment. His look reminded her of his expression when she fell off her broomstick only a few meters off the ground.

“What?”

“Are you, or are you not, a witch?”

“I know where you’re going with this, and I’ll give you the same reason I give for cooking and gardening without magic: I prefer doing them by hand.”

“But why?”

Now it was her turn to stare at him in disgust. She disappeared into the kitchen for a couple of minutes before returning with a plate.

“Here.”

She shoved a muffin at him and he grudgingly took a bite. As predicted, his eyes nearly rolled into the back of his head as he moaned.

“My god, this is bloody delicious.”

“Okay, now try this one.”

“Blah!” He spat out the second muffin into his hands before guiltily looking up at her.

“Need I state the obvious?”

“I fail to see how cleaning is similar to cooking.”

“I’m not going into a practical lesson right now, but trust me when I say that cleaning by hand is 10x more thorough than cleaning by magic. Didn’t you ever wonder why Snape’s detentions always involved scrubbing the cauldrons rather than just vanishing the mess?”

“I don’t know, maybe because the man was an arse?”

She sighed in disappointment. “Harry…”

“Okay, okay, I get it. I still don’t see why you can’t just plan ahead and make sure to clean before Malfoy visits.”

Her shrug summed up her lack of interest in hurrying the milestone.

“I need your permission to make a Floo call.”

Thrown off by the sudden change of topic, Hermione pointed out the Floo powder before returning to the kitchen to clean up the muffin disaster. Casting a quick evanesco on the cat hair, Harry popped his head into the fireplace to place his call.

“Draco Malfoy’s flat.”

“Potter. To what do I owe the pleasure of this unexpected call?”

“You’ve got about five seconds to get your arse over to Hermione’s flat before she catches me and shuts the connection.”

“And why do I need you to tell me to go see my girlfriend?”

“Take it or leave it. Chances are the opportunity won’t present itself again for a long time.”

The blonde pursed his lips as he considered Harry’s statement. “Back up, Potter. I’m coming through.”

And not a moment too soon.

The second Draco Malfoy shook off the remnants of powder and muttered a vanishing spell, Hermione rounded the corner.

“Draco!”

“Hey, love, why—achoo!”

The immaculate scion in his tailored suit doubled over violently in a fit of sneezes and inelegant coughs. Hermione fussed over him, her hands fluttering in uncertainty.

“Draco, what do I do? How can I help?”

“Ahhh, ahhhh, achoo!” He backed up towards the fireplace, fumbling around for Floo powder. “I need to leave. I’m so sorry, I—”

Another violent cough and he was gone.

Silence reigned and Harry tried to blend into the bookshelf behind him. What he would give to have his invisibility cloak on hand.

Hermione’s eyes moved slowly from Draco’s last spot over to her friend, narrowing in realization.

“Perhaps I should have been more clear, though I didn’t realize you’d be so moronic as to go around me and invite him into my home. Draco is allergic to cats.”

“I…uh, figured that one out. Why didn’t you just say that at the start?”

He should’ve fled the moment her expression transformed into a sickly sweet smile. He should’ve remembered the bluebells and little birds viciously attacking Ron. He should’ve remembered Hermione’s vengeful streak.

“I’m going to cook, and while I do, you will clean this house by hand. You will also call Draco this instant and apologize for almost killing him, again, before inviting him over for supper.”

“I don’t see how it’s my fault the ferret almost died when you didn’t even tell me…” Harry’s mumble ended in a yelp when her thrown slipper hit him on the head.

“Call. Apologize. Clean.”

WC: 1081

[bccksmarts]

❧ 𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐔𝐋𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐒 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒 ☙

➤ @decrsum asked: [BACK TOGETHER] (( pLEASE ))

  Hermione blinked. Oh god. Of all the people she was expecting to see on her journey out and about, it certainly wasn't Mattheo Darcy. Memories flashed through her head as she just stood there staring at him, as if she'd seen a ghost. It'd been... what, years? A few, at least—since she'd last seen him.

  They dated in her final year of Hogwarts, getting to know him had been a pleasure, but also a bit risky—him being a Slytherin and her a Gryffindor, the looks and remarks they'd get were countless. McGonagall was all for house unity, but no one seemed to really buy it, especially where those two were concerned. It's as if they'd committed treason. Ron wouldn't talk to her, Harry was sceptical but supportive—all of her friends were wary, even when she attempted to reassure them that nothing was off or wrong.

  Even though it was clear they were very much into each other, they came to the mutual decision of just breaking it off. It hurt, of course it did, but... for the sake of everyone around them, it was just for the best. But Merlin, did she cuddle up with Crookshanks for weeks on end, trying to not get upset and push emotions down as best as she could.

  Here she was, a grown woman ( whom had just finished her shift at St. Mungo's mind you ), standing there in the middle of Diagon Alley like the world surrounding them up and disappeared. Just the two of them. And he still looked so bloody perfect—Slytherin genes, obviously. She could feel her gut and chest fluttering with familiar feelings from years before, as if she'd felt them the whole time. Clearing her throat, she raised her hand to give a little, sheepish wave, ❝Hi, Mattheo,❞ Lovely start, ❝it's been too long.❞