#especially gabriel's runes. wink.

[d1ssenter-be-damned]

poses from my art class while i try and figure out how i wanna draw digitally. the guys

[livia-dovehallow]

home - Gabrily

i wrote this a while ago when my grandpa passed away and hesitated to post it because it was personal. then when i was finally ready the whole tsc fandom blew up. but now i’m going through a lot of things and i think sharing my writing is cathartic so here we go! || @tsccreatorsnet

tw: death, depression, grief

The soft, damp grass tickled the bottom of the young girl’s little feet as she darted across the hill. Her laughter chimed in the wind, drowning out the sound of her brother’s concerned shouts. The sun shined brightly upon the hill, illuminating the Welsh countryside for miles.

“Be careful, cariad!” the boy said breathlessly, catching the little girl’s hand before she tumbled down. “It is a long ways down.”

“Oh, let her explore!” said an older girl, approaching calmly behind the boy. “She is curious.”

The young girl giggled and hugged her brother’s arm. “Run with me!”

The other girl joined, walking backward down the hill. “Yes, run with us!”

“You children be careful up there!” shouted a stern voice from the bottom of the valley. “Your mother will not be happy if you return with another broken bone!”

“She mustn’t know, papa!” the older girl teased. “We are only having a bit of fun!”

A figure approached behind the man, her skirts swirling in the breeze. Her smile was bright. “You know,” she called, “you are enjoying it all wrong! Rolling down the hill is much more fun.” She climbed the hill toward the children, who waited in great anticipation. “You do it like this,” the woman said, gathering her skirts and laying on the grass. She winked at the children, then rolled down the hill with great laughter.

Her hair fell from its pins, revealing the ink black color in a waterfall identical to the color of the hair of the giggling children atop the hill. The youngest of the bunch, her blue eyes wide and bright, immediately dropped to the floor and rolled down the hill. The other girl followed suit.

The boy grinned, devilishly, and followed the girls down the hill in a great burst of energy. He arrived in a heap of dark hair and laughter. The man stood above the four rollers, an amused grin on his face. His blond hair stood out among them. “You lot are much too extravagant today. Whatever will I do with you?”

The youngest of them rolled over to him and threw her arms around his leg. She smiled brightly. “Papa!”

The man kneeled down and swooped the little girl into his arms, tickling her until she was breathless from her giggles. ”Especially you, my little Cecily,” he said with love. “You are quite the fearless troublemaker.”

“She gets it from you,” the woman said, unmoving from her position laying on the grass. “I hardly think their sense of adventure is all my doing, Edmund.”

“I tried to stop her!” the boy cried indignantly. “I told her to be careful.”

“Will is too worried,” the older girl laughed. “I think he believes Cecy to be a porcelain doll.”

“I do not!” Will demanded. “But she is little! Mam, tell Ella to stop making fun of me.”

“You are all dolls,” Edmund said with a smile. “Just like your mother.”

“Oh, hush,” the woman said, though she did not sound angry. She sat up and gathered the other two children into her arms. “Our greatest creations,” she said and squeezed them. “You are all my greatest loves.”

Edmund smiled and sat beside his wife, a young Cecily still giggling in his arms. “The story of Edmund and Linette Herondale and their band of mischievous children.”

...

She stumbled in disbelief. The pain in Cecily’s knees was no match for the pain her heart as she fell to the floor in grief. She ought to have also felt the pain in her throat as a tortured scream ripped from her body, but still, it was no match.

Only the warmth of two strong arms around her kept her aware of her physical presence. She gripped Gabriel’s shirt in her fists as she turned and buried her face into his shoulder, immediately dampening it with her tears. “No!” she cried repeatedly. “No, no, no!”

Gabriel said nothing, but he held her close to him, running his fingers through her hair. He knew better than most what she felt in that moment, and Cecily could not imagine learning such devastating information without him by her side.

Cecily knew that one day she’d have to face the inevitability of her parents’ deaths, but she was certain she still had time. She was certain they were far too young for her to have needed to worry about such a thing. And she certainly had not considered that it would be influenza that would take them from her, both of them, at the same time.

The sobs wracked her body in painful jerks. She recalled the last time she had the chance to see them. Cecily engraved the image into her mind, of her mother laughing with Cecily’s son in her arms, and of her father tickling Will’s daughter in his. If only she had known, then, that it would be the last time. 

Additional arms wrapped around Cecily. She did not have to look to know who they belonged to. Christopher’s curls tickled her cheek and Anna’s eyelashes brushed along her arm. She sat there, on the hard ground, surrounded in the embrace of her husband and children.

...

Some time passed before Cecily could gather enough energy to stand from the ground. Her children had long since gone to bed at Gabriel’s request, though they left with great hesitation. Their arms lingered before releasing.

“Cecy,” Gabriel whispered, holding her still, even as they stood. She looked up at him, into his eyes, and felt a fresh wave of warm tears flow down her cheeks.

“I did not get to say goodbye,” she said, her voice hoarse.

His calloused fingers lifted to wipe her tears from her face, though they were quickly replaced. “I know,” he said gently. She could see understanding in his face as he looked at her. He said nothing else; only pulled her closer to him and cradled her head against his chest, the sound of his heart beating against her ear.

...

Cecily sat along the edge of her unmade bed, staring blankly into the bedroom she shared with Gabriel. A red mourning rune stood out against the pale skin of her throat, just over her collarbone. She was dressed in white, the color of Shadowhunter mourning, but she felt guilty bearing the colors of the Shadow World at the funeral of her parents, who had left the Shadow World behind.

Waves of memory crashed over her; of seeing Will arrive through the Portal atop of the hill beside the cemetery where their parents were to be buried that day, back at home in Wales, and running into his arms. Though Gabriel had understood her pain, it was Will, and Will alone, who could feel the pain of her loss just as intricately as she had. They had stood in silence, hands clasped together, as they said their final goodbyes to their beloved parents. Cecily only distantly recalled Gabriel explaining to the other attendants the role of the color white in their “religion” as the color of mourning rather than black. It made no difference to Cecily. She did not care what these people, whom she’d never met, thought about her attire.

“Cecily,” Gabriel said, sitting beside her. “Sit with me a while, will you?”

She nodded and swiftly nestled herself into his side as they laid back against the soft pillows. He was warm, unlike the air had been in Wales earlier that day. “When does it cease hurting so much?” she asked quietly.

Gabriel sighed. Cecily ran her fingers across his arm, where he had rolled up his sleeve to reveal his own mourning rune. “I wish I could tell you that it will go away,” he answered. “But it will not. You will carry it, and it will get lighter, but a bit of it will always be with you.” He pressed a kiss to her head. “You will not have to carry it alone, my love.”

Cecily looked up into his eyes. They were a green she’d always associated with the rolling hills of Wales; bright and welcoming against a bright blue sky. A color that meant home. “I do not know how to bear it.”

“You will bear it just as we bear everything,” he said with the softness and affection he reserved only for her, and their children. “Together, as husband and wife should.”

A soft knock sounded from the door, followed by Anna’s head peaking in through the crack. A red mourning rune stood against Anna’s skin, too. She was dressed in white but had remained in the Institute while Cecily and Gabriel left for Wales. Charlotte could only explain so much absence to the Clave. “Mam, may we sit with you?”

Cecily’s heart squeezed, but she nodded and gestured for Anna to come in. She did, with Christopher trailing closely behind her, dressed in dirtied white. They hurried to the bed and laid beside Cecily and Gabriel, curling into the empty spaces where their bodies could fit. Gabriel reached down and ruffled Christopher’s hair affectionately. “As family should,” Gabriel added quietly, looking back into Cecily’s eyes. There they were again: the eyes the color of home.

“I love you,” Cecily whispered to him. He smiled ever so affectionately.

“Rwy'n dy garu di.” His pronunciation had always been a work in progress, but Cecily felt the pure expression of adoration behind Gabriel’s Welsh anyway. Anna and Kit giggled quietly.

Against all the pain in her heart, Cecily smiled. She was not okay, and she would not be for a long time, but as long as she still had Gabriel by her side, and her precious children, Cecily would always be home.

[it-me-ari]

“The devil may care” (Gabriel does NOT like it)

I woke up with a pounding headache. And not, as you probably think, because I was partying the day before. It was because some lousy demon knocked me out and frigging kidnapped me! He should know that this was a very bad decision. Sam and Dean and probably every other hunter they could reach would search for me, plus my boyfriend is literally an archangel who would also search for me and would not be happy when he finds me in hell. Although I had to admit that Gabriel wasn't able to look for me, since he had some very important business going on in heaven.

As you might know heaven is powered by the number of angels being in heaven. The problem was that there were barley enough angels to keep heaven up and running and they needed every angel they could get, especially an archangel. So Gabriel was there with Jack and together they were trying to find a solution before heaven collapsed and every one of the intrusted souls would fall back to earth.

Anyway, I was captured and it was unlikely that anyone would find me in the nearest future, so I looked around and realized that I wasn't alone in the dark, bricked cave. There were three demons (at least that's what I suspected, given that it looked like I was in hell) standing in front of me, clearly waiting for me to acknowledge them. "Why am I here?" I finally said and the person who was most likely a demon started grinning. "Because I, Lucius, captured you." I sighed, not the brightest bulb apparently. "No shit Sherlock. I was asking what the hell do you want with me?" Lucius frowned and his eyes turned black, showing me that I was right about my demon theory. Then he smiled again, desperate to hide his anger with me: "Word is that you're Gabriel's new toy..." I sighed again, typical demon behaviour. "I'm his girlfriend and not his toy. There's a difference. Google it."

The demon called Lucius frowned as I didn't seem frightened at all. "I don't care what exactly you are to him, what matters is that he cares about you." I just raised my eyebrows, seemingly bored but with the growing fear what they wanted from Gabriel. Lucius continued when I didn't react: "You see.. I've heard about Asmodeus' little trick with the archangel grace. I want to overthrow Crowley and take over the position as king of hell, but for that I need more power." "You can't overthrow Crowley. You're not the first one who tried." I was acting more relaxed than I felt. I was worried about their plan to overthrow Crowley by using Gabriel's grace, that wasn't good at all and for once I was glad that Gabriel was in heaven and couldn't go looking for me until he and Jack had found a solution for the power problem. I didn't want him near these demons who wanted to use him like Asmodeus did.

"Asmodeus did! And he had archangel power!" Lucius argued and smiled complacently. "Too bad he got himself fried." "Yeah yeah I get it. But what do you want with me?" I asked, sounding annoyed to hide my fear for Gabriel and Crowley. Lucius smiled again and leaned forward a little: "You are going to tell us how to neutralise Gabriel and where we can find him." I snorted and rolled my eyes. "Keep on dreaming." "So you decide to say nothing?" The demon asked and seemed almost excited by my answer. "Exactly." I answered and held up my chin high. Lucius stepped back, now openly grinning and turned to his two followers: "You know what to do." And so they did.

They brought me to another room and undressed me. They then proceeded by strapping me on a table and putting on aprons. And then they tortured me. They did things I don't wanna remember and never speak of. After a few hours they brought me into a cell and left me alone with my injuries. I would have healed myself but they forced me to wear handcuffs witj runes that suppressed my powers. At least they couldn't squeeze the information they needed out of me. I was exhausted and wounded form the torture and so I fell asleep. Not a good idea. The moment I closed my eyes it all came back. I didn't scream or cried at the memory of what these demons did to me. All I did was whisper one name: "Gabriel." Again and again, until it stopped.

"Awww too bad my baby brother isn't here." I heard a voice say and opened my eyes. There, in the corner of my cell leaned casually the devil himself and looked at me with fake pity. I was so surprised to see Lucifer that I flinched at the sight of him. He saw my reaction and pouted: "Am I that ugly?" "What the hell are you doing here?!" I asked, confused as fuck. "Oh, I was just seeking some entrainment and I gotta say, watching someone being tortured is highly amusing." I raised my eyebrows: "That's all?" He nodded with big, innocent eyes and put one hand at his heart: "Promise." "But when you're in hell... Are you the ruler of hell again?" I frowned pondering and continued talking before Lucifer could answer: "No, that can't be.. Lucius said that he wanted to overthrow Crowley, which means he's still king.." Lucifer was listening to me patiently and then answered: "Yes, I tried ruling hell before and it's soooo boring! So I leave the throne to Crowley and mind my own business." "Such as watching me being tortured?" I asked sarcastically. "Jup! Exactly!" He grinned, proud like a four year old, at me. "Amazing." I sighed and slumped back against the wall. "Heyy, I might not be Gabriel but I am still a better company than thos demons!" He seemed genuinely offended and I couldn't help but smile a little.

Gabriel was in a room full of angels when he heard me whispering his name, I suppose he heard it because it was like a prayer? He froze immediately and tensed. "I have to go." The other angels looked at him, horrified by his statement. "No! You can't!" They spend the next half hour convincing him why it was absolutely necessary for him to stay in heaven. He knew they were right and so he stayed, although he hated it, not knowing if I was safe or needed his help. Nevertheless, he still had a problem to solve so he returned to Jack and together they started pondering over it again.

"Good afternoon, how are we feeling today?" Lucifer asked, acting like a psychiatrist when he appeared in my cell, like he did every day after the demons brought me back from torture. I smiled weakly: "Awesome." He sighed and for a moment it looked like there was a hint of compassion in his eyes. But then the moment passed and he was his usual devilish self. "You look like hell." He finally stated and pursed his lips. "No surprise there, considering I am in hell." I replied with a weak grin before I passed out. The last thing I recalled was Lucifer sighing. "I can't believe I'm doing this." He murmured and walked towards me just before it all went black.

It was around that time when Gabriel and Jack finally found a solution to heaven's power problem. They had created a spell that would turn every worthy soul in heaven into an angel. As soon as the spell was at work Gabriel left heaven and went looking for me. He was surprised and anxious to find me at a luxurious hotel in Lebanon. He was furious when he saw me lying unconscious on the bed, wounded and thinner than he last saw me. "Oh hey brother, I was wondering when you would show up." Lucifer greeted him casually. Gabriel immediately turned around and pinned his brother against the wall. "What did you do to her?" He growled, his angel blade pointing at Lucifer's chest. "Wow easyyy Gabe, I didn't do anything to her!" He glanced down nervously at the blade. "Liar!" Gabriel snarled and was about to stab his brother.

"No! He saved me!" I wanted to shout the words but that didn't work very well since all that came out was a whisper. Gabe immediately was at my side, looking at me with wide eyes. "What do you mean he saved you? From what?" I then explained what had happened to me and his eyes grew dark. "This is my fault. I should've never leave you!" I gently placed my hand at his cheek and smiled weakly: "You had to." He was about to answer when he saw the handcuffs that still kept my powers at bay. He frowned and with a thought he made them explode, then he placed his hand on my had and healed me. "I am so sorry." He whispered and stroked my cheek softly. I smiled at him and hugged him tightly. "Don't be. It's not your fault."

Before he could answer we heard someone behind us clear his throat and we both turned around to see Lucifer standing there, arms crossed in front of his chest. "Don't you think you should apologize?" He demanded and looked at Gabriel. "For what?" Gabe answered and kept his arm around my waist. "For attacking me without reason! I mean I did save your girlfriend from cruel torture!" As much as he hated the fact that his brother, the actual devil, would do something good, he had to admit that he saved me. "Yeah yeah sorry for attacking you." I smiled at Lucifer, if he hadn't kept me company I would be in a much worse state, mentally speaking, which caused me to see him in a different light. "I'd never thought I'd say this, but thank you, Lucifer." Lucifer grinned and bowed jokingly. "Everytime." Gabriel didn't like that very much. "Hey! Don't get too friendly! You're still the devil and I don't want to see you around my girlfriend." Lucifer just rolled his eyes and disappeared, not before winking at me and mouthing 'call me'.

After that Gabriel turned to me, pulled me into his arms and I felt his wings folding behind my back. He felt guilty for bringing me into this situation with his absence. Of course I tried my best to reassure him but I think a part of him will always hate himself for not being there to protect me. "I love you." I whispered and looked into his eyes. "I love you too." Gabriel replied softly and looked at me with love in his eyes.

Part two: “You and me and the devil makes three”

[valloryrussups]

Beauxbatons University of Magic, chapter 1.1

Chapter 1. Harry Goes to School… Again

“What did they do this time?” Hermione asked with a tint of amusement as soon as Harry stormed into her parlour.

Ron already there, they were both playing chess – or trying to; Crookshanks mewed and rubbed his head on Hermione’s knee, constantly distracting the girl. For Harry, that would be just the moment to slyly cheat, but Ron didn’t. No need to. The redhead would win either way. Didn’t stop Hermione from trying.

Harry speared the human couple with a glower. Glared at the cat, too, for a good measure, which Crookshanks ignored with all his feline disdain.

“Can you guess?” he bit out and dumped into a winged armchair the witch had found on a flea market in Paris when out shopping with Fleur’s family and Mrs Weasley. The armchair was an awkward thing, a patchwork of green hues and suspicious stains, and Hermione had only bought it because of how Fleur’s eye ticked when she saw it, but somehow Harry just loved it. It was his armchair. Armed with a nail, lots of stealth, and bravery worthy of his facing-Voldemort moment, he’d even engraved his name on it in bold crooked lettering. Hermione had almost clobbered him to death right there.

“They ambushed you yet again with questions on how you got not-killed?” Ron offered while Hermione deliberated over possible chess moves.

“This was an awkward way of phrasing it, Ronald,” the witch rebuked, moving a pawn.

“Sorry,” the ginger muttered before sending Harry a winning smirk. The Chosen One snorted. “So, am I right?”

“It’s worse.” Harry stretched out, his legs dangling from the arm-rest, and rested his head against a pillow he had bought just for his armchair. “They’re asking about my plans for the future.”

“Well, that’s actually a sensible question.”

“It isn’t when my future is as much a mystery to me as it is to them,” Harry groaned. Lifting his chin, he scrutinised the ceiling painted by Luna, across which Hermione was engraving lines of runes in patterns known only to her.

“Send them to Trelawney. She would know,” Ron said with a snicker. Hermione’s fingers tightened on the edge of the chessboard at the mention of the Divination Professor.

And this woman tells me I hold grudges, Harry thought vindictively. Wisely, he didn’t voice his thought. With age he had come to understand how much wisdom silence contained.

“I already did,” he complained aloud instead. “And, of course, thanks to the awesome bit of Potter luck, she agreed to respond to their questions- well, interrogation, more like – and now all these wild ideas are circulating, starting from the one where I’m a Death God who wanted revenge on Voldemort for escaping my clutches and who is now to return to the world of the undead until I’m summoned by the honest citizens of magical Britain to protect them-“

Harry stifled a laugh at their horrified faces.

“-and ending with the one wherein I’m actually Dumbledore’s successor as a Light Lord and will work a couple of decades as an Auror until I somehow become Minister and bring LIGHT to people.”

Harry put all his emotions into his eyeroll, and Hermione was much moved. Tears glistened in her eyes. Then again, it might have something to do with the fact that she had just lost to Ron for the tenth time in a row and was on cooking duty for a week.

“This sucks, mate,” Ron said, extending his hands and feet with all the lazy grace of a sunbathing Crookshanks. The real Crookshanks was consoling his mistress with loud purring. “Still better than the one where you had some hidden vampire soulmate whom you were supposed to reunite with after coming into your creature inheritance.”

“You’re too damn cheerful about it,” Harry groaned. “Stop it. Where’s my good mate who beat up the guy who admitted he was stalking me because I’m his true soulmate and he has my name written on his heart?”

“Well, I was a tad a hungry back then and he was blocking the doorway-“

Harry fake-sniffed, pulled out his pillow (red with a lion stitched in golden thread, of course!) from under his head, and hugged it tightly.

“Is food more important to you than our friendship?”

“Don’t ask questions you won’t like answers to.”

“You’re both so silly I don’t know how we even ended up as friends,” Hermione cut in, her lips twitching despite the dramatic sigh she let out.

“There was a troll involved,” Harry reminded her.

“And Harry sticking his wand into its nose.” Ron paused. “Wait, aren’t troll boogies corrosive? How did the polish on your wand survive?”

“It didn’t. Erm, or at least it wouldn’t have if not for the Wand Weighing thing. Ollivander had a few words to say to me about my lack of wand maintenance skills. I was lucky that the corrosion was slow and would have taken a decade to fully eat through the protective enchantments.”

“It was irresponsible of you, Harry.” Hermione shook her head. “I hadn’t even imagined you didn’t take care of your wand properly!”

“The horror!” Ron mouthed. Harry knew it was mostly to support him; once the ginger got his own wand, he treated it like a gift from Merlin and even better than a broom, polishing and anointing it with special oils.

Harry rolled his eyes and tossed the pillow up. “I’ve learnt better now, okay? Learnt from my mistakes, all that. Rather, let’s talk about something pleasant.”

“Like the glazed pomegranate pie Hermione’s gonna bake tonight?” Ron piped up. He stood up and set upon putting away the chess-set and clearing away the table.

“I’m on cooking duty, Ronald, not on ‘fulfilling your culinary whims’ duty.”

“I wouldn’t mind some pomegranate pie myself!” Harry supported his friend and dodged an irritated hex from the girl. “No need to resort to violence. Don’t do to your friend what you wouldn’t do to a house elf. Besides, aren’t we dining together tonight? So, I do get some say in the menu!”

“We are. All right, you can consider the pie done but only if you bring those salted caramel macaroons we had the other day. Did you find them in one of those new places in Diagon?”

Harry knew what she referred to. The couple of months right after the war officially ended, i.e. Voldemort’s death, webs of fear lingered and people clung to the habits born out of self-preservation instinct. However, now, half a year past, reconstruction effort flourished. The Ministry paid special attention to fixing Hogwarts and Diagon Alley – the two major symbols of the modern magical world. Among the many activities was endorsing the businesses and offering good deals on rent and the like, and now new shops appeared almost on a weekly basis, especially once the Unspeakables had finished the formulae needed to extend space to slot in new buildings.

Even with the subsidies, however, the start-ups often didn’t have enough resources to buy out the spaces where huge shops used to be, so they cooperated into small groups of two-four and divided the floor. Harry’s heart always twanged when he walked past the Owl Emporium. Now there was a millinery and a herbs shop there as well as the office for a charity aimed at giving raid victims new homes, for those of them who were left without.

He had entered the millinery, once. As always, he walked around in disguise, but the smiley shop assistant recognised him anyway. No matter how much Harry refused, they wanted to offer him a present – any hat in the shop, even including those that had magical properties, whether they came from creature parts, enchantments, or runes. Harry ceded when the boy told him his family would have been exterminated had Voldemort lived.

He had chosen a small bowler hat with white feathers on either sides of his head, and which allowed the wearer to float in the air in case they were falling to the ground. He would never wear such an ostentatious thing, but the feathers reminded him too much of Hedwig to throw it away, not to mention that he had never been the type of person to treat a gift ill.

“Actually, I made them myself,” Harry said, returning to the present. He blushed at Hermione’s awed sound.

“I didn’t know you could cook!”

“Well, it’s not like I had an opportunity to show off my skills at Hogwarts, with all the house elves there. And I would never dare take away the kitchen from your mum, Ron.”

“She won’t mind. Honestly? I think she’s gonna be chuffed that at least someone shares her hobby. Seriously, try talking to her ‘bout it and maybe you’ll band together to have some cooking fun!”

“You’re only so enthusiastic because if we join up, you’re going to get the feast of your life.”

Ron only grinned.

Suddenly, Hermione thwacked herself on the forehead. Crookshanks glowered at her because she had been petting him and now she stopped. “Oh, I invited Bill, Fleur, and Gabrielle as well.”

“Want to hear some more home design advice?” Harry asked with a wink. This time, he was prepared and ducked.

“If this- woman tries to vanish my furniture because it doesn’t suit her tastes again, Bill won’t have a wife anymore.”

“Don’t worry, now that my armchair’s here and Fleur hates it, I’ll protect your furniture with my life,” Harry solemnly swore. “But seriously, it’s not our usual crowd. Why did you invite them? Not that I mind, of course, just-“

“I would like to pose some questions to Bill about his job.”

Harry sat up in surprise.

“You want to be a curse-breaker?”

Not that Hermione lacked the knowledge or resourcefulness but… The girl didn’t like action and adventures, and, from Bill’s tales, being a cursebreaker was all about action and adventures.

“Oh, no, of course not. While this line of work does offer tantalising opportunities to glimpse into ancient knowledge through exploring abandoned ruins and tombs, this would be stressful in a way I don’t enjoy. Rather, I would like to know the specifics of working with goblins as well as get whatever info I can on their lifestyle, habits, and needs.”

“Is this part of your creatures and beings welfare promotion scheme?”

Hermione nodded, rubbing behind her cat’s ear absently. Ron excused himself to prepare them some tea – he confessed that he never trusted Hermione to make it right.

“Do you remember the trial? The one which determined how much money we owed Gringotts for destroying their property and freeing the dragon? The goblins were treated so horribly even though we were the ones at fault.”

“At least you insisted on a fair deal,” Harry reminded her. That trial had happened a few days after the war, and the memory was hazy. “Even if it means that a great part of your money will be going towards fulfilling it.”

Of course, the boy insisted on paying everything himself first, but both his friends hissed at him, reminding him that they had broken into Gringotts together and they would pay for the damage together, splitting the whole cringe-inducing sum into three. Thankfully, even though neither Hermione nor Ron were the Chosen One, they still received gifts from the grateful population, yes, including monetary ones.

At the same time, this spurred both of them to find temporary jobs at Hogwarts and Hogsmeade. Harry joint them occasionally, but McGonagall didn’t allow him to help out anywhere without paying him, and he couldn’t take money for extending his help to people in need when he had enough to subsist. Thus, he donated most of the time.

He also filled his days with redecorating Grimmauld Place. With Kreacher’s help, the house elf becoming more and more amicable with each day, he cleaned out the cupboards, the storage rooms, the old wardrobes… He separated the artefacts he discovered into several piles, some to give away, some to store in Gringotts, some to use, some to throw away, some to put away in a secure place so he could research their effects. He enriched the Department of Mysteries almost as much as Hermione and Ron’s attic.

Ron bumped into the doorway and cursed, driving Harry’s thoughts away.

“Here it is!” He called out cheerfully, levitating a tray onto the small carved table, another flea market find. Levitation to this day remained one of Ron’s very favourite spells. “The best damn tea in the whole of Britain!”

Hermione frowned. “Why are there four cups?”

Ron dropped into his seat, shooing away Crookshanks.

“You get two, no arguments. One is the normal kind, which you’re drinking now, and the second contains a sleeping potion because you’re definitely taking a nap soon. Don’t think I didn’t notice that you slipped away to read till morning again.”

“Hermione!” Harry exclaimed. “You spent our entire Hogwarts life convincing me to take care of myself, and now you’re flaunting those same rules.”

The girl flushed.

“Well, it’s not like I have much time during the day! I mean, there’s the job, some extra work with the Ministry because Kingsley asked for my input, SPEW, and my NEWTs are coming up!”

Harry blinked a few times and leaned forward. Ron levitated his cup into his hand, and the green-eyed boy took a distracted sip.

“Are you seriously preparing for your NEWTs?”

“Of course. There is no reason why I wouldn’t.” Hermione frowned at the both of them. “I get that neither of you has fully decided what you want to do with your lives yet, but you will need good grades either way.”

“You’re really clever but you tend to overlook some things,” Ron butted in before she harangued them on the subject. “There exists a great number of professions that don’t require NEWTs; actually, it’s mostly just the jobs in the Ministry that do – the jobs that we both know we don’t want. Besides, it’s not like someone will turn away our job applications-“

“For your own sake, Ronald, I hope you are not snatching the chance to use your hero status to procure yourself a job when you might not be even qualified for it! In such a case you could be robbing a specialist of-“

“I’m sure Ron didn’t mean it that way,” Harry cut in hastily, throwing his hands up into the air.

Hermione sniffed.

Ron gave her a nervous smile. “H-Harry’s right, of course I wouldn’t think of getting a job that easily! Ridiculous, really.”

“Still, Harry, the reporters aside, you have to decide what you want to do in life, whether you want to follow in your parents’ footsteps and become an Auror, or join the ranks of the Healers like you told me you considered, or be a DADA teacher-“

“It’s still too early!” Ron protested. Harry agreed.

“I’m not trying to push you, I’m just scared that after spending your life fighting Voldemort you have no idea that there are other ways of life.”

Harry thought that her fears weren’t unfounded.