#ever think about how molly's death absolutely changed her as a person. she knew him for like three months max and she got so so attached

[wizardnuke]

YALL EVER THINK ABOUT BEAU.I SURE DO.

[sofoulandfairaday]

Hello! I absolutely love your Delphini headcanons, I feel like her character in the Cursed Child did such an injustice to both Voldemort and Bellatrix >:/

If you don't mind, can you do a pt 2 about Delphini in an AU where the Lestranges and Voldemort live/win + raise her to be just as amazing!!

Hi! Thank you for the ask, anon ❤️

I'm glad you like them, since she's a character I personally really disliked in the play (not even her as a person, but she's just so horribly written- TCC as a whole makes me cringe so bad).

For reference, they are talking about this post especially and also this one about her conception & birth and this one too (for good measure).

Warning: anon, I know you want fluff. But you're not getting it from me, I'm an angsty bitch, and the following is angst.

So. The only way I can see Voldemort wanting for a child is for his own personal gain, to have a backup plan in case his body fails. A sort of dark magic experiment. Perhaps he knew his time in his own body was limited (and he did go for the Stone first).

Boy or girl, the sex of the baby doesn't matter to him, it's just a body, just a clump of organs and cells and blood and power - do not get attached, Bellatrix.

She tries to obey his commands but fails miserably the more time she spends with the child, which is more than you'd think, seeing as she's been punished and put under house arrest.

Bellatrix's desire for a little boy, a little Master, one who actually loves her, is indescribable. Voldemort is the one who would prefer a girl. He gets his wish.

The Battle of Hogwarts is somehow won. How? I'll go ahead and say that Draco never disarmed Dumbledore on the Astronomy Tower, ergo Snape was the Master of the Elder Wand, ergo Voldemort manages to kill Harry, but all his Horcruxes are destroyed, Nagini included. As for Bella, deus-ex-machina doesn't work here, so she defeats Molly.

Narcissa did still lie, so the three Malfoys are sooo fucked.

Rodolphus and Rabastan both live. The latter goes down a spiral of hedonism in Ibiza, the former is just so done. In the last year, he escaped from Azkaban and was promptly shot out of the sky, was publicly cucked, his Gringotts' Vault was broken into and he has now been through a battle to the death in his former high school. Little Cissy, who he's known since he was a child, was killed before his very eyes and his wife is hiding her obvious pain and betrayal.

As for the relationship between Bellatrix and Rodolphus, I can see a few things happening. In this AU, I feel like Voldemort would ultimately make Bella his official concubine. I accept a variety of headcanons on what happens next because I ultimately accept a variety of different (conflicting) views on what the Lestranges' marriage is like.

(1) Nothing changes. He's still her husband, whether he still loves her or not (and I think he does). He stays with her because of the position & power her closeness to Voldemort grants him.

This, I feel, depends on whether or not she is allowed to share his bed, how possessive you think Voldemort is (and his whole relationship to sex & intimacy), and Bellatrix's own ambitions. If she sees the option to be seen as a wife to the Dark Lord, even if not in name, she would take it. But I don't think Voldemort would ever grant her that, so in turn Bellatrix wouldn't let go of the title of Madame Lestrange that easily. Rodolphus can sleep with other people, but can't get rid of her, especially of his own volition.

Or maybe she's just greedy. Rodolphus wants a divorce because he wants an heir of his own and a wife he can sleep with and she goes "Nope, nu-uh, too bad", and tells herself it's not because she deep down needs his love.

(2) They get amicably divorced and are still friends/have a good relationship. Bella has lost both her sisters now, and Voldemort is still Voldemort.

This happens especially if he wants children of his own. But realistically, I think he just starts pestering Rabastan until he gets married (“To a woman, Rab, a WOMAN!”) and has little Lestranges to carry on the family name.

Delphi has her mother's eyes. Dark, and entrancing. Rodolphus wants to hate her, he really does, but he cannot bring himself to. She's the spitting image of little Bella, and looking at her is bittersweet.

I think he avoids her in the beginning (this also depends on Rod's characterization - whether he doesn't care about children and never wanted them, or he desperately wished he'd have one with Bella - the answer exists on a spectrum).

But Bellatrix and Voldemort are not parents of the year. Also, they have such a unique relationship, one so unhealthy and all-encompassing, that it shuts out the rest of the world, their daughter included. And Rod can't help but feel bad for this lonely girl.

The really tragic thing is that - and I'm sorry but this is the truth, and it sucks - Bellatrix would never love her daughter more than she loves the Dark Lord. This knowledge is a trauma factory in itself, but to make matters worse, this child's father is Voldemort, who has no concept of what selflessness and selfless love are. Since Rodolphus is clearly the most emotionally intelligent of the three (the bar is low), some part of his dark little heart must recognize this.

Also, the Dark Lord is a man with a plan. He has no more Horcruxes left, he needs another one. Guess who?

The downside to this is that he needs to anchor his child to life - no matter, she is just an extension of him, after all. Children being their own people? Nah. - but more importantly this means he's paranoid now. More than he was before. His soul is so unstable that he cannot make new Horcruxes, Delphi is his last one, so he needs to protect her with all that he has.

When she's a child, she doesn't see him much. She lives a sheltered life, with her mother who loves her very much and gives her as much affection as she can, but who ultimately follows the Dark Lord around like a puppy, and Uncle Rod. Uncle Rod is the only reason this poor girl's childhood even resembles a childhood.

She isn't allowed friends, and Papa (Voldemort cringes every time he hears this, and teaches her to call him My Lord, the way your mother does when she's about five) won't allow anyone near her.

He's also very particular about her health, and her studies. He gets updates on how her magic is manifesting (violently; Delphi is immensely powerful) and decides he will teach her personally when she turns seven.

He demands she spend her days training and studying: grammar, math, history, the basics of potion-making; her mother insists that she learn her ancestry (the whole of the Black Family, and the Gaunts, and even some Lestranges, for good measure), Abraxan riding, the basics of etiquette (I hated it too, Delphini, but that's not a good enough reason for you to conduct yourself like a savage!, while Rodolphus shakes his head incredulously, wishing Druella was there to hear it). Rod teaches her how to dance and wants to teach her Quidditch, but both Bella and the Dark Lord grumble what a waste of time, so he settles on teaching her how to fly a broom (Voldemort still grumbles because he can fly without a broom and will eventually teach Delphi to do the same, but Bella is mollified and allows it).

Her flying lessons with her father (she can get away with calling him her father and takes advantage of that) are some of her most cherished memories, actually. He has granted no one else this honour, not even her mother. (She doesn't know about Snape and no one ever mentions him anymore, so...)

Bella gives her her very first magic lessons, when she's seven or eight, but soon grows bored with it (powerful as Delphi is she needs to start from the most basic Wingardium Leviosas, spells that Bella now performs nonverbally and wandlessly, without even thinking about it, and revisiting the movements and theory behind them bores her to tears). She leaves it to her father who - surprisingly - has much more patience than she does.

He was her teacher too, after all.

By the time Delphi is 11, she could sit a Charms N.E.W.T. and pass with flying colours, and she's very good at Transfiguration too.

Voldemort sees no reason for her to ever go to Hogwarts.

Are you surprised? I bet you are.

After all, Hogwarts was his first and best home, the only place he ever felt was his own, the best experience of his life. I doubt he loved anyone or anything as much as he loved Hogwarts, the symbol of being a wizard to him. Denying anyone that experience, especially his own daughter, reads as an unspeakable cruelty. But he's never said he wasn't cruel. Granting her that - fundamental, wonderful, life-changing -experience would be selfless, it would be the right thing to do.

But Delphi is his Horcrux, his key to immortality, and quite plainly... his. He doesn't give a flying fuck that she has very few social skills, no friends, has no idea how to talk to people her own age. He doesn't trust her to meet other people, to make connections, to fall in love, basically to be exposed to anything that might turn her against him, or endanger her (him).

Being a manipulative bastard, he tells a tantrum-throwing Delphi that she can choose: go to Hogwarts and spend seven years revisiting stuff she already knows, surrounded by people who aren't worthy to lick her boots, and I cannot deny how disappointed I would be, Delphini (and this just ends the conversation because Delphi would kill herself before actively choosing to disappoint her father) or she can finally come and live with Bellatrix and him, and they will teach her the Dark Arts and whatever else she wants. Most of all, it's the promise they'll be there, that she'll have as much access to them as she wants.

By the time she's an adult, she's much more powerful than Bellatrix ever was. (And I won't lie to you, Bella doesn't particularly love this.) But still, she cannot beat her father. What sets them apart is the source of their power. Delphi, despite the ache she feels for her parents' love and affection, was born coddled and cared for. Her mother especially would never shut up about how she was a literal princess, royalty, the heir of Slytherin, etc. She never had to fight for it. She didn't hear bombs falling on London, didn't starve in a cold orphanage in the East End, was never tied to a bed and exorcised as the Devil's spawn- she was never truly hungry.

For all that they can teach her, they cannot make her ambitious. If she had gone to Hogwarts, she would have still been a Slytherin, based on her heritage and values, but she is nothing like her parents, character-wise. Bellatrix fought against the contraints of her society and her gender, Voldemort fought against his blood status and his fear of death.

The source of conflict in Delphi's story, on the other hand, is the family dynamics between the three of them. (You can make them as horrifying as you want, there is really no limit to the worst, as we say in Italy).

Delphi was born in the cage, loves the cage, and doesn't want to be free. If anything, she wants to be pulled further into it. I think there would be some sort of weird rivalry there, between her and Bella, for Voldemort's affections because they really are that scarce. But it would also come wrapped in a thick layer of guilt - what mother hates their daughter when she is overshadowed? What kind of daughter hates the only parent that actually loves her?

(Voldemort doesn't even realize he pits them against each other, half the time. He does that to people, it's almost subconscious now.)

She's deeply alone, by design, and only wants to be close to her mom and (especially) her dad. That is literally the only character trait she has in that dammned play, so I'll keep that as part of her personality.

Voldemort definitely did that on purpose. And as soon as he finally notices tensions rise between her and Bellatrix (I think Delphi's teenage years were even more rebellious than Bellatrix's) he puts a stop to it immediately - if you drive the girl away from me, from us, Bella, I will make you pay personally.

I can see Delphi running away from home and getting into trouble because of her complete lack of awareness on how the world actually works, begging (through the Dark Mark or whatever else) her father to come rescue her, and Tom (who obviously watches from afar, to make sure his Horcrux isn't truly destroyed) saying no, deal with it. She gets out of most of it because of her immense power, but these brushes with real life leave her rattled.

Can you imagine a boy trying to hit on her?

If he knows who she is, she can never truly trust him: they're all trying to curry favour with her father (it's possibly the worst way ever to do so- trying to take something from him). If he doesn't, her absolute lack of social skills and general arrogance put a dent in her physical attractiveness. (She is a beautiful girl; after all, her parents are Tom Riddle and Bellatrix Black.)

Delphi is more powerful than Bellatrix, her position in society is higher than Bellatrix's and still, her father trusts her mother more than her.

By the way, no, she isn't his named heir, she isn't the commander of his armies or anything of the sort. Voldemort does not share power, that's the whole point of his character. The Minister is still a puppet minister, he is the commander of his own armies, and Bella is a close second.

She also doesn't make that many public appearances; people know of her by now, but they aren't granted access - the image of Nagini, his last Horcrux, in that magical cage resonates with me. It takes years before the war is truly over.

She grows up to be a wonderfully intriguing mix of arrogance and insecurity. Much like Bella, she grows up with the burden of being told she was destined for greatness because of her blood, her family, and not because she herself is great. Unlike Bella, Voldemort has no intention of setting her free, not even in the half-hearted way he does Bellatrix (guys, as much as we love them, she is very much his slave, however willing, in canon). She's the ultimate girlboss: beautiful, smart, powerful... 2/10 personality.

You can do what you want with her story from here onwards. One more tragic than the other. Or you can give them a happy ending, provided that Voldemort's brave new world knows what therapy is.

I don't think this is what you wanted, anon, but alas it's what I genuinely think would happen. Delphi's """"character traits""" in the play are her cunning (that she developed to survive, and that she wouldn't necessarily need in a world where she grows up a pureblood princess), her loneliness and the bone-deep need she feels for her parents' love. Since she wouldn't be herself without those... yup. This is my view.

(Sorry.)

[free-pool-trash]

x of swords - george weasley

part one of three

Summary: Growing up as Harry’s neighbor, you always believed that you were completely regular. In an attempt to feel closer to Harry (your best friend) you begin to dabble in the art of divination and, in the process, you uncover magic that you didn’t know you had. (i hate doing summaries this does not sum it up but you get the jist)

Relationships: George Weasley x Reader, platonic!Harry Potter x Reader, platonic!OC x Reader, platonic!Sirius Black x Reader, platonic!Remus Lupin x Reader, platonic!Fred Weasley x Reader, platonic!Nymphadora Tonks x Reader, platonic!Molly Weasley x Reader, platonic!Hermoine Granger x Reader, Sirius Black x Remus Lupin

Warnings: Swearing, anxiety, fluff, angst, mentions of torture, mentions of death (let me know if I missed anything!)

Word count: 22.9k 

so here it is 😏 i was going to wait until i was completely finished with this to post it but i didn’t wanna rush it and oh my god it’s already so long  😫 I’m moving to Edinburgh in 2 weeks so i won’t be able to write as i have so much to pack so i hope this keeps some of you happy for a while <3 obviously i put a lot of effort into this and spent a lot of time on it so i really hope yall like it and i will personally kiss everyone who comments. likes or reblogs <3

mastelist

Life on Privet Drive was definitely something- something being incredibly boring. Nothing even remotely exciting happened on the street and the company was, to put it simply, miserable.

You’d lived in 5 Privet Drive since birth which, unfortunately for you, meant that your family are extremely close with the Dursleys who live next door. The Dursleys are a family of bigoted, pig-headed bullies. Made up of Petunia, Vernon, Dudley and, in your opinion the only tolerable one, Harry.

From the age of five, Harry had been your only friend on the street and vice versa. Initially, the both of you had bonded over your dislike of Dudley but as the years rolled on Harry and yourself had become virtually inseparable.

It was certainly strange- how close your parents were with Petunia and Vernon. Your mother and father are actually quite lovely, they are the complete opposite of the Dursleys, they’re open minded, kind and extremely friendly. But, you supposed, their friendliness didn’t discriminate from person to person, even if said person forced their orphaned nephew to sleep in the cupboard underneath the stairs.

There was no denying that Harry had been miserable with the Dursleys, who were unfortunately his only remaining family and you supposed you should’ve been happy when your best friend finally got away from them after his 11th birthday.

You’d missed him for the entire school year and you only got a chance to ask where he’d actually gone off to when he’d arrived home for the summer. (You didn’t believe the story Vernon had spun about Harry attending a boarding school for juvenile trouble makers).

“It’s incredible, (Y/n), honestly! I wish you could be there too.” He’d told you when you finally saw him again, after he’d finished his first year in his mysterious boarding school.

“That’s great, Haz, but where exactly is it?” You wondered and Harry only gave you his signature grin.

“Scotland.”

With a heavy sigh you let the subject go, he was clearly happy wherever he was going to school so it didn’t matter where or what it was. As long as he was happy.

By the time his 12th birthday rolled around you’d found the perfect gift for him. You’d made your parents buy you a polaroid camera for him to take away to school, he’d told you so many amazing stories about his school, you wanted to see some of it for yourself so you figured a camera would be the best course of action.

The morning of his birthday, Harry was woken up by the sound of pebbles tapping against his barred up window. The boy looked out to see you waving at him, an excited smile on your face and a neatly wrapped present in your other hand. Harry couldn’t stop the smile that formed on his face as you beckoned him down with your hand. It was barely dawn but you knew better than to give a present for Harry to either his aunt or uncle because they’d only give it to Dudley, so it was best to get it to him before the rest of his supposed family woke up.

Hogwarts was amazing and Harry was over the moon to have discovered he was a wizard and make so many new friends, but he had missed you- his only friend in the muggle world. Your birthday was only a few weeks after his and he hoped that maybe you’d get a hogwarts letter of your own, obviously that hadn’t happened. Nonetheless he was happy to see you in the summer, he couldn’t shake the thought that Ron and Hermione would have loved to meet you though.

Slowly and quietly, Harry snook down the stairs and out the front door to meet you.

“Happy birthday, Haz!” You whisper-shouted excitedly, pulling the green-eyed boy into your house so he wouldn’t get caught outside when he wasn’t even allowed out of his bedroom.

Harry rolled his eyes at the nickname, “I hope you know that you’re still the only person who calls me that.”

“Good,” you said happily, closing the front door behind you. “Anyway, I got you something that you can bring away to school with you!” He rose an eyebrow at you as you pushed the carefully wrapped box into his hands, “Open it,” you instructed. And so he did.

It was very possibly the most expensive gift he’d ever gotten, you (or your parents) usually got Harry presents that couldn’t be stolen by Dudley. For example, your mother had taken to buying Harry his own clothes, seeing as your best friend was a lot taller and thinner than his horrid cousin.

You, on the other hand, would usually make him gifts with sentimental value, something Dudley had absolutely zero interest in. The camera though, you knew would be safe as Harry would be leaving for school again soon enough.

Harry stared dumbfounded at the cardboard box that held the rather large polaroid camera, judging by the image on the box it was a good quality thing, probably expensive. “This is… really nice, (Y/n).”

A bright smile found your lips as you rushed into an animated explanation about why you’d picked a camera as his birthday present this year.

“So you can take lots of pictures of you and your new friends in your new fancy private school and when you come back here you can show them to me!” Harry chuckled and nodded his head, hoping he’d be able to find time to take pictures like you wanted.

“I’ll take pictures of everything. Promise.” He told you, holding out his pinky with a cheeky grin. You linked your pinky with his and nodded gratefully.

“We should christen it,” Harry announced, tearing into the box and he quickly set the camera up before he pointed it at you expectantly. “Well, come on then. I’ve told my school friends all about you, they’re going to want to see what you look like too. So, smile-“ with a disbelieving laugh, you crossed your legs underneath yourself from where you were sitting on the floor across from Harry, and tucked your hair behind your ears before you looked directly at the lense of the camera and gave it the brightest smile you could muster. The camera flashed and the picture slowly revealed itself, it seemed to be good enough to satisfy Harry’s twelve year old self.

He’d shown the polaroid to Hermione first, the bushy haired girl had smiled softly as she held the polaroid gently, “She seems lovely, Harry.”

Harry had nodded his head in agreement, you were lovely. He just hoped Dudley wasn’t terrorising you too much while he was away. His cousin always had somewhat of a crush on you, which Harry knew was ridiculous considering you all but loathed Dudley.

True to his word, Harry had taken plenty of pictures, many were of (non-magic) areas of the Hogwarts campus, many were of his friends; Ron, Hermione, Fred and George Weasley (who had an absolute field day with the muggle contraption), one or two of Hagrid and he even managed to capture a nice one of the owlery. Although you were one of his best friends, sometimes thinking about you while he was in Hogwarts brought his mood down. It reminded him of how much he wished you could’ve shared in his adventures and not to mention how much he missed you, you could hardly send him an owl, what with being a muggle and all, so he only got to spend time with you during the summer months.

Things had changed during his third year, though. When he received a rather shocking, albeit very welcome, letter.

Dear Harry,

I’d like to start by saying: hi, how are you? How’s school? Good? Great. Now that that’s out of the way… when you come home I’m going to KILL you!!! I cannot believe you didn’t tell me you are a wizard! Well, I understand why you didn’t but anyway.

You’re probably wondering how I found all of this out. Long story short, I saw Vernon’s sister floating around your sitting room and then I saw you running out swinging a wand around. I put two and two together. You would not believe how long it took me to figure out how to get in contact with you. I practically had to beg Dudley to tell me how to get this package to you, he eventually told me how in exchange for a kiss on the cheek. It was as horrifying as it sounds, the things I do for you, Haz, honestly. Don’t worry though, you can make it up to me over the summer.

I bought an owl by the way. I’m guessing she found you okay? Look after her for a little while before sending her back will you? She’s just a baby so she can’t do too much long distance travel just yet.The lady I got her from is a witch, she was very kind and knew exactly what I was looking to use an owl for. Her name is Astra (the owl’s not the lady’s)! Isn’t she lovely?

Moving on from that, I felt bad forcing you to send me pictures and getting nothing in return so I have decided to very kindly grace you with my exhilaratingly normal life. You will also find I sent you some of those sweets you like.

Tell Ron and Hermione that I said hi! Oh and Fred and George too! Get into lots of trouble for me ;) I suppose I better stop rambling now, sorry about that I’m just excited (and i might be missing you… just a tiny bit!)

Write back to me soon, if you can! Tell Astra I’m proud of her for making her first delivery! (give her plenty of treats for me yeah?)

I’ll let you get back to your wizardy stuff now, Haz.

Lots of love,

(Y/n) xoxo

P.s. your magical secret is safe with me. promise.

Harry looked up from your letter with a dazed smile, your new little owl was looking at him expectantly, no doubt awaiting her treat, “Good job, Astra. Your owner says she’s very proud of you,” he informed her, handing her a piece of bacon from his breakfast plate and laughed when she hooted happily.

Astra is a gorgeous little tawny, she has brown and white feathers that were fluffy to the touch. Harry could already tell she was well suited to you though, she was friendly as anything with the most curious eyes he’d ever seen.

“Whose it from?” Ron grunted from beside him, munching happily on his huge breakfast.

Harry let out a short laugh, digging into the envelope to pull out the photos and sweets you’d sent, “(Y/n).”

“I thought she didn’t know about you?” Hermione asked from beside Ron, Harry only shrugged.

“She figured it out. She’s quite clever, I think you’d like her Hermione. She says hi by the way.” He answered somewhat distantly, distracted by the pictures you’d sent, all of which had writing on the backs. He paused on one photo, he guessed one of your parents had taken it, you were stood in the woods, surrounded by trees with a huge smile on your face, your eyes were closed and your nose was scrunched up as a very tiny Astra seemed to be nibbling at your ear affectionately.

“I’m sure we’d get along, I admire her determination, really. And she even bought an owl?” The girl questioned, reaching over and petting Astra gently.

Harry’s smile was gentle as Astra hopped onto his shoulder, “Yeah, suppose she did.”

“Alright! I’m gonna say it!” George Weasley exclaimed, plucking the photo of you from Harry’s grasp, he held it between himself and Fred, the older twin had somehow swiped the letter you’d written. “Harry’s girlfriend back home is quite cute, don’t you think, Freddie?” Fred nodded resolutely, pushing the letter into George’s face as he pointed towards a specific line.

“I have to agree and look, Georgie, she told Harry to tell us that she says hi! Ugh, such a darling,” Fred fake swooned and Harry felt his face heat up while George made kissy faces.

“She’s not my girlfriend.” Yeah, you had opened Harry up to a whole new world of teasing yet somehow he didn’t mind.

“Oi, do you think she’d like some of our Weasley products?” George asked genuinely, wiggling his eyebrows. Harry shuddered at the thought of you getting a hold of anything that Fred and George had created, because yes, you would like some magical pranking products. You had quite a talent for mischief, only in Harry’s worst nightmares would the Weasley twins ever get their hands on you.

Harry shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly, “Dunno.”

“She single?” Fred asked jokingly and Harry scrunched his face up. He supposed you were single, though, he’d never really pictured you with anyone. He felt quite protective over you, but he supposed he'd like to see you happy with someone he approved of- or alternatively; anyone but Dudley.

“Think so,” Harry told him with another shrug before a cheeky grin spread across his lips, as he focused his attention on the twins who were nudging each other in mock victory, “Why? Should I write home and tell her the esteemed Weasley twins have a crush on her?”

George was the first the speak, he nodded, completely serious and Harry found himself worrying that perhaps one of the Weasley twins would get his hands on you.

“Yes. Absolutely,” Fred snorted and said no more, allowing his younger twin to continue the girl based antics seeing as Fred’s actual crush, Angelina, had started to glare. “In fact, give her my name. Tell her to write to me next time, eh?”

Harry’s eyes widened, oh Merlin, George was serious.

“Oh sod off, would you? The poor girl is a muggle, she’d throw herself off the astronomy tower if she got stuck with either of you prats.” Ron said through a laugh, none of them could deny it was quite funny, even Hermione had to bite back a smile at the chaos your simple letter had caused.

Around two weeks had passed until Astra returned to you, two letters attached to her leg this time.

You greeted her with a warm smile as she landed on the inside of you window, “Welcome home, pretty lady! Did you have a nice trip?” You cooed, patting her feathers and giggling when she nuzzled her head against your fingers. Having a magical owl as a pet was weird, but still, you seemed to be managing her okay.

Astra hooted happily, as if informing you that she did, in fact, have a nice trip. “That’s good! Let me take these letters off and you can have a well deserved rest, I’ve made a nice nest up for you,” you rambled softly as you untied the string that was holding the letters to her leg.

Astra hooted, hopping onto your arm and allowing you to place her on the plush pile of pillows and blankets which she immediately made herself comfortable upon, once again hooting in content when you placed a handful of treats in front of her.

You assumed that both letters were from Harry until you noticed the messy handwriting that covered one of the envelopes, handwriting that definitely didn’t belong to Harry. Besides, never, even in the furthest reaches of your imagination, would your best friend ever refer to you as; “Harry’s Pretty Neighbour”. You set that one to the side for the time being and focused on the letter you knew to actually be from Harry.

Dear (Y/n),

Hi. Sorry I didn’t tell you I was a wizard. If it makes you feel better I was actually planning on telling you this summer, but thank you for saving me from that conversation. I miss you too (only a tad). I hope you’re having a good school year so far, it’s been pretty chaotic here but I promise I’ll tell you every single tiny detail when we see each other at the end of May!

Did Astra get home okay? She’s a really lovely owl, she took quite a liking to George who (terrifyingly) has taken quite a liking to you. He’s been badgering me all week for “permission” to write to you, in his words, “just to say hello.” I think you’d actually get along but he and the rest of his family are very magic oriented, I’d be surprised if he didn’t scare you away… the pair of you together would be my worst nightmare. Don’t even get me started on how I’d feel if Fred was in the mix too. I’m tired just thinking about it.

Thank you for the sweets they were lovely, I put a chocolate frog in the envelope for you, it’s a really popular sweet in the wizarding world- don’t freak out when it hops, it’s just a charm the frog isn’t really alive.

I enjoyed the pictures too, I put a few in this letter for you too, the polaroid is running out of film but it should be enough to keep me going until the end of term.

Write to me again soon, I like hearing from you.

Take care,

Harry.

P.S. I’m really sorry you had to kiss Dudley, I’ll do something to make it up to you. Promise.

P.P.S. If George OR Fred manage to write to you PLEASE don’t eat anything they give you.

With a laugh you set the letter down beside you. Curiously, you reached a hand into the ivory envelope and pulled out the peculiarly shaped chocolate box as well as the polaroids. You viewed the photos with a fond smile, Harry always looked so happy, even with whatever chaos was happening around him. Wizard school definitely made your best friend the happiest he’d ever been.

Opening the next letter, which you now guessed judging by Harry’s letter, came from George Weasley, Harry’s friend Ron’s older brother. That was all you knew about him. You let out a gasp once you opened the seal, a small show of tiny fireworks shot out, exploding in balls of reds and oranges across your bedroom before they disappeared as if they’d never been there in the first place.

Slightly frazzled, yet amazed, you cautiously plucked the letter from the envelope and began reading.

Hello, Harry’s Pretty Neighbour.

I hope you enjoyed the show, hopefully it didn’t startle you too much… I’m not exactly sure what muggles are used to… if it did scare you I’m sorry.

Anyway, just wanted to say hi. Promised Harry I wouldn’t spook you, he’s quite protective of you, you know. It’s very sweet.

I don’t blame him, though. If I had a friend as pretty as you I’d be protective too ;)

Don’t break my heart, write back?

Yours truly,

George Weasley x

And that had been the start of it. Two years had passed since you’d discovered the wizarding world and it seemed as though things had simultaneously gotten worse and better. As it turns out, your lifelong best friend was some sort of prophetic hero in the wizard community and on top of that it seemed that there was a war brewing that he would be expected to lead.

Of course, you were completely useless as you don’t possess the ability to perform magic which also means you're at risk of being hate crimed by some classist, wizard, blood supremacists? You weren’t sure. But Harry was worried.

You’d been writing back and forth to a few of Harry’s Hogwarts friends (your friends now too) for a long while now, you’d even gotten a chance to finally meet them when you’d gone with the Dursleys to collect Harry from King’s Cross Station.

You got along best with Hermione seeing as she was raised similarly to yourself and Harry. However, of all of Harry’s school mates, you liked George the most. Everyone could have predicted it really, you’d been writing to each other constantly and the second you’d clapped eyes on each other in the flesh he’d broken out in a run to crush you in a hug. Harry had groaned at the sight of the pair of you, smiling widely at each other, seeming to slot together perfectly. He had to laugh about it now though, if things went well with Ginny he supposed you’d probably end up being his sister-in-law, assuming his predictions of George falling completely in love with you were correct (they were, he knew).

All air of laughter or wizard/muggle romances was gone at the moment however. You and Harry sat alongside each other, your hand holding his loosely between the swings you were sat on, he’d be going into his 5th year at Hogwarts soon, he’d yet to recover from the last. He’d made a friend only for that friend to be killed right in front of him. He’d almost been murdered himself for God’s sake.

“If you don’t feel safe, Haz… maybe, I don’t know? Don’t go back?” You suggested weakly, knowing he’d never do such a thing. As you expected, Harry shook his head and looked at you solemnly.

“Can’t. Not now that he’s back.” With a sigh you squeezed his hand.

“They should be paying you for this, you know,” Harry chuckled then, squeezing your hand in return.

“I’m doing this for you too. To keep you safe.” He admitted and you sighed miserably.

“I wish I could be of more help.” Harry scoffed, his green eyes shining with pure disbelief as he stared at you.

“More help? (Y/n) you must be joking…” he trailed off as you shook your head, you weren’t joking, you hated that you couldn’t help Harry through this, for once you knew there was nothing you could do to improve the situation in any way that would make an impact, “Oi. Look at me,” Harry demanded, no trace of the usual awkward sarcasm to be heard when he spoke.

You let your eyes meet his again and watched how they seemed to soften when he took in how utterly defenceless you looked, “If it hadn’t been for you, the first ten years of my life would’ve been an even worse hell than they already were. You were the only good thing and you’re still the only good thing about being back in this place.”

He watched sadly as your eyes fell to the floor again, “Besides, the sooner we get this mess with Voldemort sorted out, the sooner you and George Weasley can navigate the whole muggle/wizard romance thing.”

At his statement you barked out a laugh and Harry let himself smile too, “Shut up, Potter. S’not like that.”

Harry laughed then too, “Oh it is so like that, (N/n).”

“It so isn’t.” You grumbled, but your little smile confirmed to Harry that it absolutely was like that.

“Okay. Fine, please then do tell, what is going on between you and the infamous George Weasley?” Harry challenged, revelling in the way your cheeks burned with embarrassment. He let out a low chuckle when you shrugged shyly and kicked the stones beneath your feet.

“I don’t know… We write to each other a lot, and I think he’s really interesting and funny and sweet and of course I think he’s fit. But, I don’t know,” you bit your lip as Harry listened to you, he found it quite endearing. “I just don’t see how it would work. I like him, yeah, but…” Harry scoffed again as you trailed off. He hated seeing you feeling so insecure, Harry was clueless about a lot of things, but he knew exactly how much his best friend was worth- more than all the gold in Gringott’s.

“Ok as your best mate, and as someone who is very close with the Weasley family, I’m telling you that he’s mad about you. All he ever does is ask me about you, Fred is completely sick of him. He’s even told Molly about you, which is truly a commitment believe me,” Harry started, growing more content with the more bashful you became, “And didn’t he write to you just before the Yule Ball to tell you that he was going with Katie Bell as a friend but he wanted to tell you just incase you heard it from someone else and he didn’t want you to get the wrong idea?” Finally, you were back to fighting a smile.

“Yeah he did.”

“Well there you go. But seriously he hasn’t dated or even so much as looked at anyone else since he met you. Which I’ll be honest is super annoying for me but you deserve someone who thinks you hung the stars in the sky.”

A mock gasp left your lips and you released his hand to place it over your chest in faux hurt, “You mean to tell me you don’t think I hung the stars in the sky? I’m hurt, Harry. I think I’ll have to rat you out to Mrs. Weasley.”

Harry laughed but the lighthearted atmosphere didn’t last long before Dudley had shown up with his little gang of bullies, all of whom made fun of Harry’s nightmares.

It was then things had taken a turn for the worst, the sky turned black and storm clouds completely blocked out the previously scorching sun. You looked to Harry for answers but he seemed to be seeing something that you couldn’t, all you knew was that it had become unbearably cold, a feeling of misery making a home in your bones as Harry rushed to pull you to your feet.

“Run! Come on!” He shouted, clutching your hand tightly in his and sprinting through the neighbourhood until you, Harry and Dudley found yourselves struggling to catch a breath in a graffiti covered tunnel.

A terrified yelp left your throat as what you’d been running from revealed itself to you.

Several floating, cloaked shadowy figures swooped into the tunnel on both sides, their hands decaying and boney, their presence leaving you with the feeling that you’d never know positively ever again.

Harry had effectively used his body to cage you against the wall of the tunnel, his back pressed firmly against your chest, your own back pressed to the cold concrete wall, his wand was at the ready as the creatures approached rapidly.

“Don’t look at them.” Harry instructed, protecting you first as you watched in horror as one of the creatures seemed to be ripping Dudley’s essence straight out of his body.

It only took Harry a few painfully long seconds to take care of the creature in front of the pair of you, you’d wished you’d taken his advice and buried your head in his shoulder so you wouldn’t see the monstrous creatures before you, yet, you couldn’t seem to tear your eyes away from Dudley.

The rest happened in a blur, Harry had yet to let go of your hand as it (and your entire body) shook violently. Demontors broke even the strongest of wizards, Harry knew that as a muggle who’d never seen a magical creature, other than an owl, you’d react negatively.

“If it makes you feel any better, I used to faint every time I saw a dementor.” You nodded numbly, giving Dudley a side glance of concern while he mumbled incoherently to himself.

“Is he alright?” You questioned meekly, voice shaking. You were still freezing and the all too familiar feeling of uselessness didn’t do anything to help you regain your inner warmth.

Harry nodded, “He will be.”

“The ministry will be after my head for using magic outside of school,” he told you after a few minutes, squeezing your hand lightly for the umpteenth time, “So I’m gonna have to go away for a while. Probably tonight. Eat some chocolate, it should stop the shaking.” He told you, you hadn’t even noticed you’d reached Privet Drive.

“And they won’t-“ your breath got caught in your throat and your eyes filled with fear, “The dementors. They won’t come back, will they?”

Harry shook his head, “No. But come on, we should get you inside before the ministry shows up and tries to obliviate you.” His final words came out as more of a mumble than an actual sentence as he passed a bumbling Dudley over to Petunia and Vernon before steering you down your own driveway.

“You better not have broken her too, boy!” You vaguely registered Vernon’s voice shouting in your and Harry’s direction.

Your parents were away on holiday at the moment, in Spain. They’d wanted you to come but you hadn’t wanted to miss Harry’s visit, so when you shakily managed to open the door the house was completely dark, you weren’t sure at what point night had fallen.

Harry closed the door behind himself and made his way into your kitchen, the boy rifled through your sweet press before his hand finally settled on what he was looking for. A triumphant sort of yell left his lips as he pulled a bar of chocolate out of the cupboard.

While Harry tossed the bar onto the counter and busied himself with boiling the kettle, you stood in the hallway still, completely rigid.

“Come on, (Y/n). Sit down.” He urged gently, not turning around. Wordlessly, you fully entered the kitchen and slid into a chair facing Harry.

“Don’t you have better things to be doing than making me tea?” You wondered, setting your hands on the table and fidgeting with your icy fingers. Obviously, you appreciated Harry’s fussing but with the way he was talking about the ministry earlier you were sure he had more important things to worry about.

Harry only faced you once he was finished making your tea. He carried the hot cup and the previously discarded bar of chocolate over to you, he placed them both on the table before giving you a hard look, “I’m looking after you first. I’ll deal with everything else later.”

“I used to be the one who took care of you.” You said through a sigh, taking a sip of the hot tea and slumping against your seat as you began to heat up on the inside again.

Harry let out a low chuckle, “Oh how the tables have turned.”

“I liked it better the other way.” You complained, munching on a square of chocolate.

“Trust me, so did I,” Harry groaned, standing up and placing a comforting hand on your shoulder, “Don’t worry though, (N/n). Have a sneaking feeling that you’ll be looking after me again soon enough.”

You patted the hand he had clamped on your shoulder in appreciation, “Thank you, though, for looking after me.”

“Course. I better go. I don’t want you getting roped into anything else tonight,” he said with a sad smile and you nodded in understanding, “We probably won’t see each other for a while but I’ll write. Is Astra back from Cecilia's yet?” Celillia is the witch you’d gotten Astra from in the first place, the pair of you had kept in touch and she’d recently offered to try and teach you some basic divination skills, she claimed that, “Being a wizard isn’t exactly a requirement” and you desperately needed something, anything, to make you feel more connected to your friends in the wizarding world. You supposed you’d need to plan a trip to her cottage soon, after tonight you definitely needed some of her wisdom.

“No, not yet. She flew straight there from the burrow so I suppose she’s probably resting,” you informed him distantly, still clutching his hand, “You’ll be careful, won’t you?”

Harry squeezed your shoulder and let out a deep breath, “I’ll try my best. Promise,” with that he lifted his hand from your shoulder and extended his pinky to you, you gladly linked it with your own. Harry noted, very gratefully, that the warmth had now returned to your hands and you’d stopped shaking so violently.

“Send me a letter once Astra gets back, alright? I’ll keep you updated on what’s going on over on my side.” You agreed before walking Harry to the door, hugging him tightly and watching as he approached the Dursley’s front door.

As predicted, Harry, George, Hermione and Cecillia had let you know that the wizarding world was crumbling fast. Admittedly you were worried about your wizard friends, but Cecillia had done a great job of keeping you distracted by keeping you buried under heaps of divination books, tarot cards and crystal guidebooks. As it turns out, though, you had quite the talent for making accurate detailed predictions.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were descended from a powerful seer,” she’d written to you in awe after you’d managed to predict exactly how a date of hers would go without missing a single detail.

Reading tarot cards quickly became one of your favourite hobbies to indulge in when you weren’t in school. You’d made the mistake of telling George about it in a recent letter, Harry already knew and he also knew that there was no point telling you that he didn’t have a heap of faith in divination. George however was having a field day with the new information.

The older boy teased you at every chance he got, but it was all in good fun as in every letter he sent, you’d find a page that he’d ripped out of his own divination book, the pages would be crinkled and have messy notes scribbled along the margins, with explanations over words that he knew you wouldn’t understand as a muggle. They were actually really helpful. Aside from all the teasing he found it quite endearing that you were trying to get familiar with some form of magic. Even if it was a form of magic wizards tended to ridicule.

He’d been quite worried about you, Harry told him about the dementors and how you’d been quite shaken up after your encounter with them. He’d written to you on a weekly basis, constantly checking in on you, making absolutely sure that no more dementors paid you a visit. He and Harry both kept you up to date with the constant and seemingly never ending rules being imposed upon them by their new headmaster, or headmistress; Delores Umbridge. George also disclosed to you all about his and Fred’s plan to leave Hogwarts and pursue their lifelong dream of opening a joke shop. You had nothing but faith in the twins, really. Your complete faith in them hadn’t stopped you from sending George a handful of crystals that you believed would help his and his shop’s success. He’d teased you relentlessly in each letter since he’d received your package containing citrine, tiger’s eye, amazonite, aventurine and smokey quartz. What he hadn’t mentioned since receiving your little gifts, is that he’d been carrying the five crystals around in their little orange mesh drawstring bag in his pocket everywhere he went. He had to give credit where credit is due and, to be fair to you and your holistic ways, he hadn’t run into any serious obstacles since he started carrying the gems around.

November through June had brought forth a plethora of unfortunate events. You were practically swimming in school work which left you with no time to write to Harry, or even practice tarot. As well as that, you’d been having nightmares, although Cecillia had warned that these dreams could hold some sort of prophesies within them, you highly doubted that though, you weren’t a wizard, only a muggle. Whether prophetic or not, the nightmares plagued you, keeping you up at night or waking you at all hours of the morning.

On one particular morning, you’d awoken with a gasp. Sweat coated your face, soaked your pillow cases and caused your legs to stick to your blankets in a way not even the June heat could've caused. Your heart pounded against your ribcage, tears welled in your eyes, and your body shook as violently as it had the night you’d come face to face with the dementors of Azkaban. The unadulterated fear coursing through your bloodstream suggested that perhaps this bad dream had been something more than simply that.

As fast as you could manage in your panicked state, you dragged your body out of bed and stumbled towards your light switch, flicking it on before haphazardly ripping a sheet out of the refill pad on your desk, grabbing a pen and beginning to scribble down the dream that you could only describe as a warning.

Your laboured breaths stirred Astra from her slumber, the tawny hooted tiredly, hopping out of her cage and fluttering over to your shoulder, settling there as you wrote.

Harry,

I hope this letter reaches you in time. I might sound completely mad but something terrible may be about to happen. I’ve been having these horrific dreams over the last few months, I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to worry but Cecillia suspects they’re premonitions and I’m terrified she may be right. I’ve just woken up, it’s around 2am and if I’m lucky, Astra should get this letter to you before 6am…

Onto the dream, you were there and you were asleep, I was standing by your bed, it was a four-poster sort of thing, the room was decorated in mostly red and gold. You woke up panicked, you looked completely overwhelmed and you began shouting about your Godfather Sirius, about how he was in trouble… From then on I watched the day play out. You, Hermoine, Ron, Ginny, a boy with brown hair I’ve never met, I think you called him Neville in my dream, and a blonde girl- Luna I think you called her, you all went to the ministry to rescue Sirius and find some kind of prophecy. Harry you have to listen to me, you mustn’t go, it’s a trick, Voldemort planted it in your head and if you go you’ll only put Sirius in harm’s way. But, knowing you, you’re gonna go anyway… so here’s my advice: keep your eyes open for the witch Bellatrix. Keep Sirius away from the veil and please please please, be careful.

I’m heading to Cecillia’s cottage for the day and maybe even the next couple of days, send Astra there when you find time to write back.

I hope I’m wrong but if I’m not; good luck, Harry. I love you and if you don’t look after yourself the dark lord will be the least of your worries.

Lots of love,

Y/n.

Folding up the letter and placing it in a stray envelope, you addressed it and gently tied it to your loyal owl’s leg. “I’m gonna need you to go as fast as you can to get this to Harry, okay Astra?” She hooted with what you guessed to be determination before she set off, out into the night. Thankfully for you, now that your owl was occupied, you knew Cecillia owned a telephone so you’d have no problems contacting her. While writing to Harry, you’d left out a few details about the dream. You conveniently forget to mention that you’d watched his only remaining family member killed at the hand’s of Bellatrix, it had looked so terrifyingly real that your mind couldn’t have possibly conjured it up all by itself. You also failed to mention hearing Harry’s agonising scream as Sirius fell, the noise was nearly deafening. Seeing Sirius, a man you’d only seen in pictures, die and watching your best friend mourn for him was, well, traumatising. There was no way you’d get a wink of sleep for the remainder of the night, so, you quietly tiptoed downstairs and made a call.

The line rang three times before Cecillia’s voice sounded, chirpy as ever despite the late hour, “Hello?”

“Sorry to call so late,” was all you managed, your voice although shaky was immediately identified by the much older witch.

You could nearly see the soft smile on her youthful face as she spoke, “Ah, Y/n my darling, no worries at all! How is my favourite student doing at half two in the morning?”

“Not well, I’ve had another vision. I think you might’ve been right about the dreams being prophetic,” you told her, willing your voice not to crack as the image of your bad dreams crept into your mind once again.

Cecillia let out a gentle hum, “Shall I apparate over? You don’t sound in the highest of spirits, darling.”

“Yes please,” you answered simply and within seconds Cecillia was standing before you, a worried furrow in her brow and her ashy brown hair disheveled from apparating to you in such a hurry. How could she not? You were, after all, her protégé.

“Oh, darling. You look terribly shaken up, come, come, let’s get you some water,” she fretted, guiding you to your kitchen, magically flicking on the light with her wand and filling up a glass of water, with a few flicks of her wrist the glass had floated over to your usual seat at the table, meanwhile Cecillia had stirred you into the wooden chair adjacent the glass.

Wordlessly, the witch peeled your damp hair away from your face and secured it back with a crocodile clip shaped like a huge golden bumble bee, it’s wings adorned with glittering gems. The bee sat comfortably in your hair as Cecillia finally sat down beside you, she made herself comfortable on the kitchen chair, crossing one leg over the other, resting her elbow on the table and using it to prop her cheek up. Her wide green eyes stared at you sympathetically, watching intently as you sipped your water.

“I’m assuming your loyal familiar is sleeping soundly?” She wondered, referring to Astra. You shook your head, simultaneously swallowing a gulp of water before responding verbally.

“I sent her with a letter to Harry, it was more of a warning really,” Cecillia nodded her head, signalling you to go on, “I dreamt of Harry and his friends going to the Ministry of Magic to rescue Sirius Black, but it was a trap. When they got there they were ambushed by dark wizards and Sirius well he…” you trailed off, eyes growing distant and unfocused when the sight of the man being murdered reentered your mind’s eye. A gentle hand on your shoulder pulled you back to the present.

“This one was far worse than the others then?”

You nodded, “It didn’t feel like a dream, cecillia. It was like I was actually standing there but I couldn’t do anything to help though… as per usual,” you muttered bitterly, receiving a harsh squeeze to your shoulder in response.

Cecillia fixed you with a maternal glare, “None of that! You potentially saved a life tonight. And, as I effortlessly predicted since the moment I met you, you’ve got the magical gift of sight,” her hard look melted into something more forgiving as she spoke, “You’re much more than just a muggle. You may have been an extremely late bloomer, but, you’re a witch and a seer at that. A peculiar case indeed, although in the wizarding world stranger things have happened,” the old witch told you proudly, eyes shining with glee as your own filled with confusion.

“How do we know the dream will even come true?” You questioned.

Cecillia simply shrugged and offered you a cheeky grin, “I trust your feelings, darling.”

True to your initial feeling, you hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep, you knew you wouldn’t be able to rest until you found out whether or not your dream had come to fruition. Cecillia remained by your side throughout the night, eventually the sun had risen and your parents descended down the stairs, neither of them were surprised to see Cecillia sitting at the kitchen table. They saw her as an odd woman, very kind and perfectly lovely, but odd. You’d told them that she owned an animal sanctuary and that you’d been volunteering with her, it wasn’t too far fetched really, she had given you an owl after all, not to mention the amount of cats that hung around her cottage.

She explained to your parents that she needed your help at ‘the sanctuary’ for the next few days and that she’d drop you home once the work was finished. It hadn’t been a problem, so you traveled to Cecillia’s cottage after getting dressed and packing an overnight bag (full to the brim with tarot decks and only some clothes).

It was nearly 8 in the evening when Cecillia sauntered into her living room, where you were sitting, sporting a knowing grin, she held a piece of parchment in one hand and an unopened envelope in the other.

Jovially, she plopped herself down beside you, obviously doing her very best to contain a huge grin from forming on her face. Wordlessly, she placed the envelope on your lap with a mere, “For you.”

On the envelope you could tell by the handwriting that it had come from Harry. This was definitely a make or break moment for you. The contents of this letter would either confirm that you did in fact have magic, or, they would be responsible for causing you to experience a seismic amount of embarrassment. Swallowing the lump in your throat you tore the envelope open, freeing the letter and daring to read what was inside.

Dear Y/n,

Your dream was right. And that advice you gave about keeping an eye on Sirius? It saved his life. I suppose I’m mostly writing to say thank you. I’ve got some updates for you too: firstly, it’s finally been confirmed that Voldemort is back so my name is cleared. Secondly, it turns out that Remus and Cecillia are old friends, she contacted him earlier today about your vision and he and Sirius haven’t shut up about how impressive it is. I have a feeling you might be hearing from them soon, The Order now more than ever is in need of a secret weapon and genuine seers are hard to come by. I hate to involve you in this, it’ll probably be dangerous and you know I don’t want to see you hurt, or worse. But having said that, I’m glad we’re in this together now.

Astra got here in good time, by the way, she landed on my window just after I woke up from my vision of Sirius, it was actually quite freaky. I’m taking good care of her so don’t worry, she should be back to you at some point tomorrow.

Hermoine and Ron say hi too. I’m sure you’ll be hearing from George soon, seeing as he and Fred are in the Order… On that note I better get going.

Thank you again for the warning.

See you soon,

Love, Harry.

A bemused smile spread across your lips as you scanned the page, thankful to have finally made a significant difference in Harry’s life. Cecillia was grinning like a cheshire cat beside you, pride shimmering in her emerald eyes. She bumped her arm against yours playfully when you let the letter fall to your lap, “An old friend of mine will be stopping by in a short while. It seems he’d like to get you trained up in some defence against the dark arts.” She told you, still grinning.

“Defence against the dark arts?” You wondered out loud, you were sure you’d heard Harry mention those words to you before, however, the memories were fuzzy.

“Magic to keep you safe from darker magic, the likes of which the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters rely,” she explained darkly. Just then, a loud bang erupted from her open stone fireplace, a bubble of green dissipated as two men stepped less than gracefully onto Cecillia’s faux-fur rug. You recognised them both from your vision. They were Sirius Black and, if you were to take an educated guess, Remus Lupin.

Cecillia wasted no time before she was giddily jumping from her seat to greet the pair who had just appeared in her sitting room.

“Remus! Oh, how wonderful to see you!” She all but squealed, pulling the tall man into a hug and ruffling his already messy hair.

He reciprocated the hug with a gentle chuckle, “It’s nice to see you again, Cece. It’s been far too long,” he pulled away and the pair of them shared a fond smile before simultaneously looking to Sirius. “I trust you remember Sirius?” Lupin asked, almost rhetorically.

Sirius let out a booming laugh at that, “She could never forget me, now could you, Cece?” Cecillia rolled her eyes, and with a look of endearment nearly tackled Sirius into an embrace.

Seeing the woman who was essentially your magical mentor so overjoyed was lovely, Cecillia was jolly at the best of times but you’d never seen her quite like this. Her happiness added to your sense of helpfulness, Sirius Black was obviously important to more than just Harry, if the smile on the free-spirited witches face was anything to go by. Although you were ecstatic for the three witches and wizards before you, you couldn’t help but feel like you were imposing on an intimate reunion.

Awkwardly you cleared your throat, successfully bringing the trio’s attention onto you as you stood by the sofa, smiling unsurely. If it was even possible, all three of their smiles broadened when their gazes landed on you.

“Am I right in assuming that this is my guardian angel?” Sirius asked, separating from Cecillia.

Cecillia nodded, filled with pride, “And isn’t she just the loveliest guardian angel you’ve ever seen?” She gushed, half seriously.

You offered Sirius a bashful smile, along with a nod of greeting, “I’m glad to see you’re alright,” you told him.

His grin stayed fixed in place but he raised a single eyebrow in confusion, “Glad? And yet you’ve never met me before now…” his tone was laced with inquisition, as if he wanted to figure out what ulterior motive you could possibly have for caring about a stranger you’d only ever seen in a dream.

It didn’t take a seer or a psychic to see what Sirius was after, so you simply answered him truthfully, “No, we’ve never met, but you’re still a person, I watched that woman kill you, it was horrible, nobody deserves that. As well as that; I know how much you mean to Harry and what sort of best friend would I be if I didn’t try to help him keep his last family member safe?” Sirius nodded approvingly at your reply, looking between Remus and Cecillia.

“She remind you of anyone?” The black haired man asked in a low chuckle, Remus snickered and Cecillia bit back a grin.

The witch made her way back to your side and wrapped an arm around your shoulder, jostling you ever so slightly when she noticed your vaguely worried expression, “Don’t worry, darling, you just remind us of one of our most treasured school friends, I promise I will tell you all about it later. But for now, I believe Sirius was about to thank you for saving his life?” She prompted, waiting expectantly.

Sirius cleared his throat and straightened his posture before outstretching his arm, offering you his hand which you took firmly in your own. His voice was steady, strong and genuine when he spoke, “I am truly thankful for what you did for not only me but Harry today. I’m extremely proud of my godson for aligning himself with such a strong, powerful and wonderfully loyal young lady.”

“How sweet,” Cecillia cooed, before guiding you to the kitchen, “Come now, boys, kettles on- we have a lot to discuss!” She called over her shoulder.

There certainly had been a lot to discuss. The Order of the Phoenix thought having a seer at their disposal would be extremely beneficial in the upcoming war, the issue was; you are not yet of age and some members of the group didn’t wish to involve a child in their battle. Sirius, Remus and Cecillia made it abundantly clear that if you desired to join the Order, you were more than welcome but you would be welcomed under certain conditions. Those conditions being that your membership be kept under wraps and not disclosed to any muggles, meaning your parents.

“To keep them safe and to give you an escape route if things get too messy, even with the level of magic you’ll have gained by the time the war is in full swing, as a muggle born you’ll most likely need to flee quickly,” Remus explained, though it didn’t make much sense.

“Wouldn’t it be easier to run if my parents knew what we were running from? They’re open minded people, I’m sure they’d understand,” you attempted to reason, the trio but exchanged yet another loaded look with each other.

Cecillia placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, “We have a contingency plan in place, darling. Nothing you need to worry about for right now,” she reassured, easing your nerves a tad. “You trust me don’t you?” She followed up, her tone slightly stonier, more serious. You nodded your head certainly in response, there was no doubt about it; you trusted the witch with your life. “Then,” she began again, a somewhat chastising look on her face, “Trust that I will not allow a single hair on your head to be harmed.” This rule also extended to wizards not in the Order, which meant that when in the magical world, you were to air on the side of extreme caution.

Relating to that, another condition was that, at all times in the magical world, you were to be accompanied by an of age member of the Order. According to Sirius, who your were growing to like more by the second, he was going to arrange for a member of the Order to bring you to Diagon Alley in the morning to get you a wand. The prospect of having a wand of your own was terribly exciting, once again though, you found yourself wondering if you had it in you to properly wield one, or wield one at all for that matter. You were too exhausted to fret for too long, so the thoughts about magic levels and your own capabilities were only fleeting. Once all of the serious chat dissipated into friendly chatter, you managed to slip away from the table at which you were all sat. Making your way back to the sitting room, you tucked yourself into the corner seat of Cecillia’s old and very comfortable sofa, pulled your knees against your chest, wrapped your arms around them and rested your cheek against your knee. Slowly and deeply, you began to breathe in and out, fiddling with the amazonite bracelet that adorned your wrist in order to quell your ever growing anxiety. For a few sweet minutes you indulged in the calm silence, meditating peacefully in your comfy seat until a soft knock sounded from the doorway. When your eyes fluttered open they were met with the image of Sirius Black, leaning casually against the frame of the door, a hand plunged deep into his trouser pocket and another flipping a stray tarot card between his fingers. His eyes were focused on yours as he spoke, “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

You shook your head and patted the seat beside you, “‘Course not, come sit.”

The man chuckled but obliged, settling in the spot beside you and offering you the card he’d previously been fiddling with.

“The ten of swords,” you identified easily, “I assume you’ve been feeling quite overwhelmed if this card found its way to you.”

Sirius hummed, “CeCe tells me that you’ve a penchant for card reading. I was rubbish at divination back at Hogwarts, only took it because I thought it’d be easy but I could never get my head around it,” he reminisced, an airy laugh slipping from his lips.

“If you don’t mind me asking, who were you all talking about earlier when you asked if I reminded Cecilia and Remus of anyone?” He let out a deep sigh before fixing you with a soft smile.

“An old school friend of ours, she was more than a friend to me, but that’s a story for another time,” he started, staring out into the empty space before him a melancholy grin on his lips, “She was fiercely loyal to her friends, if she wanted to help there was absolutely nothing that would stop her from doing so. I know I don’t know you very well, but from what I heard today and the way in which you’ve been described to me by Harry; I can see her in you,” he finished, bumping his shoulder with yours and forcing a happy smile onto your lips which mirrored Sirius’.

“What’s her name?” You asked.

“Her name was Marlene,” Sirius answered.

Your heart dropped with his use of past tense, “Was?”

Sirius bowed his head slightly and began to twist the rings that adorned his slender fingers, “She was killed during the first war,” he told you, making eye contact once again, a grave expression on his face as he continued, “I saw your apprehension earlier when we brought up the topic of secrecy, but you must understand that during the first war we lost so many who were dear to us, keeping you in our back pocket will ensure that you aren’t harmed in the face of this war, if any dark wizards hear so much of a whisper of a muggleborn seer they will stop at nothing to eliminate you,” he paused for a brief second, never breaking eye contact, the gravity of the situation heavy on your chest your fingers absentmindedly found your amazonite bracelet once again. Your movements were halted when Sirius placed his large hand over yours, squeezing it warmly while staring at you determinedly, “You saved my life today, Y/n. So believe me when I tell you that I will stop at nothing to keep you safe,” he promised and you squeezed his hand in return.

“I know,” he smiled as he watched your eyes return to the ten of swords and your grin broadened with the sort of mischief he’d only ever seen in four people; James Potter, Marlene McKinnon and Fred and George Weasley. “I have a prediction for you.”

Sirius entertained you fondly, a mischievous air that reminded him of when he was your age surrounding the pair of you, “By all means, do tell.”

“I predict,” you paused for emphasis, “that we are going to be very good friends.”

Sirius let out a booming laugh of which the volume he couldn’t control, “That is a prediction I truly hope will come to fruition.”

“Oh no, this is a duo that spells trouble,” Cecillia giggled to Remus as they entered the sitting room.

Remus looked between you and Sirius with a grin, “With a mentor like you, Cece, I’m not surprised Y/n has a taste for mischief,” the ruffled wizard teased, receiving a gentle elbow to the ribs from your mentor.

“Oi, if you’re going to blame my beloved girl’s mischief on anyone you better blame it on a certain Weasley twin,” she said, wiggling her eyebrows and causing the boys to smile giddily like teenagers.

Sirius bumped your shoulder again, this time with a faux-scandalised smile, “A Weasley twin, eh? Come on then, which one?” You blushed heavily and cleared your throat in an attempt to alleviate the embarrassment filling your being.

“He’s just a friend!”

“Mhm. A friend that sends her annotated pages from his divination text book,” Cecillia sang and Sirius snickered.

“Whichever one it is must be quite taken with you if you made him actually crack open a textbook.”

“Annotations are quite intimate,” Remus half teased although you could see he believed what he’d just said, “I bet it’s George,” he directed the bet at Sirius who carefully observed the way you bit your lip and bashfully looked towards the wooden floor.

“I think you’re right, moony. Now!” He stood suddenly and pointed a finger at Remus expectantly, “We best get going and arrange Y/n’s accomplice for tomorrow’s field trip,” he wiggled his eyebrows before turning his head to face you again, he shot you a wink and you couldn’t stop the airy laugh that left your mouth at his lighthearted antics.

Remus gave Cecillia a one armed hug, “we’ll be seeing you both tomorrow then, it was lovely to meet you, Y/n, perhaps next time Sirius will allow me to get a word in,” he chuckled and Sirius responded by throwing his arm around your shoulder.

“I better get off, this husband of mine is growing jealous,” he told you in a teasingly hushed whisper.

Your eyes widened and you looked between the two men, “You two are married?”

A love struck smile took over both of their faces which immediately gave you your answer. “We’re engaged,” Sirius clarified before pulling you into a proper hug, “Get a good night's sleep, we’ll be sending an order member to collect you early tomorrow morning so you can be in and out of Olivander’s before a crowd can build,” he told you while giving you an affectionate squeeze, you could’ve laughed when you realised that it felt like you’d known Sirius forever but you also could’ve cried when you relived the image of him losing his life and realised that just because it was over and prevented didn't mean it hadn’t still transpired in your mind’s eye, you didn’t let that show on your face though.

“I’ll make sure I’m well rested,” you promised.

With that, Sirius bid Cecillia goodbye, and he and Remus left the way they’d came.

The rest of the night had been spent with Cecillia telling you story after story about her school days and the trouble she’d caused with Sirius, Remus, James and Lily Potter, Harry’s parents, and another boy who she only referred to as “the rat”. Though the tone of the stories were completely lighthearted, they weighed on your chest with a sense of such tragedy. A huge majority of their friends were killed young because of the war, a war that was now waging once again. It led you to wonder who’d be lost to this one, if perhaps you’d be on the list of names that Harry or Cecillia or George would speak about fondly with a dense undertone of sorrow in the years after the second war had long since been won. It was a risk you were willing to take though, the notion of fighting for a deserving cause filled you with a sense of purpose, a purpose you’d been searching for for years. More than that, you felt important. You were needed. An asset. You would actually be of some help.

True to your word, you’d been getting a good night’s rest. The bed in Cecillia’s spare room was the comfiest thing you’d ever come across, though, as you began to stir from your deep slumber you couldn’t recall the empty side of the double bed being quite so dipped.

Slowly and begrudgingly, you cracked your eyes open to see Cecillia smiling tiredly at you in the light of dawn, “Morning, darling. Sorry about the early start, I’ve made you some tea,” she greeted quietly so as to not disturb the peace of the early morning. She held two ceramic mugs, one in each hand and passed you the steaming cup that was hand painted green, keeping the brown one for herself. Tiredly, you patted the spot beside you and pulled the quilt to the side, inviting the witch into the warm bed. She happily slid in, pulling the quilt over her and chuckling quietly when you dropped your head onto her robed shoulder and began to sip the tea she’d made. Cecillia rested her head against yours and sipped on her own tea.

“Are you excited for today?” She asked and you hummed.

“I’m having mixed emotions,” you stated, “I’m excited to see everything, but I’m sort of nervous that I won’t have enough magic to even get a wand,” Comfort spread through your chest when Cecillia pressed her lips to the crown of your head.

“The wonderful thing about wands, lovely, is that the wand picks the wizard,” she began, “so whatever wand you end up with will accentuate the level of magic inside you. Its power will grow as yours does and you’ll soon come to realise that you couldn’t imagine wielding anything else,” her voice was wistful and her eyes shined with wonder as she recalled how it felt to bond to a wand.

“What do you think mine will be like?” You wondered, excitement awakening in you thanks to Cecillia’s encouraging words.

The witch took an exaggerated slurp of her tea before answering, “Something curious,” was all she said.

“Insightful,” you murmured and she shrugged unapologetically, her chaotic energy exuding now that she’d started to wake up fully. “What time is it anyway?”

“Half six, your chaperone should be arriving at seven and Olivander’s opens at eight,” she told you before shimmying out of bed, you whined in the absence of your head rest. “You better get dressed. Wear something nice, rumour has it that your tag along is quite the eligible bachelor,” she wiggled her eyebrows and all but floated out of the spare room. It was practically your room by now though, over the years since you’d gotten Astra and met Cecillia you’d stayed in the room on countless occasions. Cecillia embodied something that was something between a second mother, a spiritual mentor, a teasing older sister and a slightly kooky aunt.

“Oh? So do you reckon I should brush my hair then?” You jokingly called out after her only to receive a harsh scoff.

“Absolutely not! Don’t be desperate!” You barked out a laugh at her response, shaking your head and getting ready for the day ahead.

You were just about finished getting ready when a familiar bang sounded from the sitting room. Taking a deep breath, you gave yourself one last look over in the mirror, happy with the outfit you’d chosen, you made your way towards the sitting room to come face to face with your surprise chaperone for the day.

When you shuffled into the sitting room, a smile immediately stretched across your lips upon seeing who had been appointed to stick by your side for the day, “George!” His name left your mouth in a squeal that would’ve been embarrassing had you not been so excited to see him. It’d been upwards of a year since the last time you’d seen George in the flesh and although you’d seen each other in photos and written to each other at a rate that was almost excessive, the prospect of spending time together in person was, for lack of a better word; magical.

George drew his attention away from the framed pictures that lined Cecillia’s fireplace to see you standing in the doorway, looking as bright as the newly risen sun and sporting a smile that he couldn’t quite put into words how it made him feel. It only took a second before his own cheek splitting smile grew on his face, and with it left his hopes of impressing you with his cool and collected attitude. You hadn’t given him too much time to dwell on his ruined cool guy facade as you all but threw yourself into his arms. The red head let out an endearing laugh, catching you in his toned arms, wrapping them tightly around your torso. A scarlet blush rising on his ears when he felt your smile against his neck. “Hello to you too,” he chuckled against your ear and you pulled back enough to look at him, your arms still secure around his shoulders.

“Sorry,” you started, the smile that still adorned your lips telling him that you weren’t all that sorry at all, “Hi,” you greeted, bashfully pulling your arms away from him.

The sitting room was quiet for a moment as the pair of you only stared at each other, would it be too much to tell him that you’ve missed him? You didn’t want to come on too strong after such a long time apart, you’d already tackled him into a hug within the first five seconds, but with that came your next internal question of; did you really want to keep this boy on his toes?

George, having already discarded his notion of acting nonchalant with you, bet you to the punch. He rubbed the back of his neck and flicked his gaze to the floor before bringing it back to you, “I’ve missed you.”

A giggle left your lips before you could think about choking it down, you nodded your head, bouncing slightly on the balls of your feet, “Yeah, I’ve missed you too. Sorry I haven’t written, Astra is still with Harry.”

George gave you a grin, “No worries, darling. Heard you’ve been a very busy little psychic lately.”

Darling, you mused internally, the nickname echoing through your head and causing your heart to somersault in a way you’d never really felt before.

“Oh how sweet,” Cecillia sang from the doorway, a wicked grin on her face as she took in the two hopeless blushing messes, staring doe-eyed at each other in the middle of her living room. “I hate to break up the reunion, my dears, but the pair of you really should get going,” she instructed, strutting up to you and holding a cloth pouch in your direction, “Sirius left you some spending money, it’s different than the money you usually use but I’m sure George will have no problem helping you out,” Cecillia shot the boy a wink and he nodded, once again growing bashful.

“Now,” she grew serious, directing her words at George and making him slightly intimidated with her strong eye contact, “You are to be extremely careful. You are not to mention that Y/n is a seer and you are not to draw any attention to the fact that she is a muggleborn, if Mr. Olivander asks, she’s a half-blood who's been living in the states and that’s why she doesn’t have a wand,” you wore a confused expression, George nodded in complete understanding, “Did Sirius give you the list?”

George nodded once again, pulling a folded piece of parchment out of the back pocket of his slightly baggy denim jeans, “May I take a look?” Cecillia asked, already snatching the parchment from George’s long fingers and unfolding the sheet and reading it aloud, “Alright! A wand… seriously? He used a whole page of parchment just to write one thing?” She grumbled, stomping over to the nearest side table, leaning down and began to scribble on the parchment. You looked to George as she wrote, “Why do you have to say I’m from the States?” You asked quietly and George leaned down slightly to be closer to your ear.

“Witches and wizards in America don’t get wands until they’re of age, we get them here when we’re eleven,” just as he was finished offering his explanation, Cecillia walked back over, a hard look on her face that you weren’t used to seeing, though it seemed that the look was reserved for George.

Silently she handed him the parchment before looking to you, hard look dissolving back into her usual playful expression, “Have fun, lovely.” She then turned to George again, apparently having had enough of trying to intimidate the poor boy, she shot him a smile, “You’ll be taking the floo to Diagon Alley, my fireplace is big enough to take the both of you at once,” she handed George a pouch of what looked like green powder, “George knows what to do, now, not to sound like a broken record but do stay safe and have fun,” she finished, ushering the pair of you into her fireplace. You couldn’t lie, it was quite strange, you supposed you should get used to things coming across as strange, you were about to be exposed to the magical wizarding world for the first time after all. In the fireplace, you stood shoulder to shoulder with George, noticing the nervous look on your face, he slid his hand into yours gently. When you looked at him, he kept his face focused on his feet, “Ready, Y/n?” Taking a deep breath you nodded shakily.

“Ready, George.”

At your words, George slammed the green powder onto the ground and shouted, “Diagon Alley!”

You were sure you were going to be sick. Whatever the powder was, it had you spinning at a pace you didn’t know was possible, you had screwed your eyes shut and you were almost certain that you could feel yourself physically moving. It was only when George tugged on your hand that you opened your eyes to see that your surroundings had actually changed. “It’s horrible the first time, but you get used to it,” George said, pulling you by your still intertwined hands onto the cobbled street. The dizziness died down after only a few seconds out in the fresh air, the added sensation of George’s thumb rubbing soothing circles against your hand seemed to do the trick in settling you completely as you took in the street ahead of you. It was dazzling, really. A long cobbled street, lined with shops that looked like they were plucked straight out of a fairytale. As planned, the streets were fairly empty in the early morning as George led you down the path towards the shop where you’d hopefully get your wand. The name “Olivanders” was written above both windows of the dark shop, the words “makers of fine wands since 382 B.C.” were to be seen just above the door. Excitement had completely overridden your nerves and you practically skipped towards the door, George followed casually behind you, his hands tucked into his pockets and a fond smile on his lips.

“I suppose you’re excited then?” He asked teasingly and you didn’t bother trying to hide your obvious childlike wonder as you waited for him to catch up with you.

“It probably seems silly to you, but this morning Cecillia told me all about when she got her wand and it sounded so wonderful,” you told him, smiling when he bumped his shoulder against yours.

“I don’t think it’s silly, I still get giddy thinking about the time Fred and I got wands of our own,” he pushed the door open and motioned for you to step inside, slowly you walked into the empty shop. It was dark and somewhat dingy but there was something very mystically inclining about it, you could feel the energy and it was utterly exhilarating.

“Wow,” you breathed out, spinning where you stood, gazing at the boxes upon boxes that lined the shelves.

Only a minute passed before an old man stumbled to the front of the shop, smiling at the pair of you from behind the counter, “Ah, Mr. Weasley, it’s good to see you, it’s been some time. What can I do for you this morning? I see you’ve brought a friend,” the older wizard greeted and you smiled in response.

“I’m looking for a wand. I’ve been living in the states for the past few years but I just moved home,” you lied easily, George couldn’t help but smirk, what he’d give to have had you around for some of his and Fred’s pranks at Hogwarts.

The old man nodded in understanding, his eyes scanned you, his eyes were scrutinising and you fought the urge to squirm under his gaze, “Interesting. One moment please,” he said, murmuring to himself as he searched the isles for what he was looking for. A small “aha” sounded from within the isles, he was back in front of you within seconds, an open rectangular box in his hand. It was absolutely gorgeous, it resembled a raw tree branch, wood spiralling up its expanse until it stopped at the top, cutting off in a jagged, dull edge. He must’ve noticed how your jaw dropped, how could he not? He hadn’t been able to take his eyes off you since you’d wandered into his shop. He was an old wizard, but he wasn’t naive, he was well aware you weren’t returning from America, he could sense an energy in you that he hadn’t come in contact with in a long time. “Curious, isn’t it?” He prompted you, causing you to let out an airy laugh. Cecillia was going to tease you big time when you got back to her cabin.

“It’s lovely, what is it?” He offered you the box expectantly and you hesitantly picked up the wand with as much care as you possibly could. It was cool against your skin and was heavier than you’d imagined it would be.

“Thirteen inch, oak; cut from the base of a tree, which at the time, was almost six hundred years old,” he explained, watching happily as you ran your fingers along the wands several ridges,”With a phoenix feather core, quite a rare piece indeed. Unfortunately, this particular wand has been extremely difficult to match to a witch. But something tells me that you might be just the witch for the job,” he held your gaze and you once again got the feeling that he knew something he shouldn’t, “Go on, then. Give it a wave,” he prompted and you looked to George for further encouragement. George laughed at your lost expression, pulling his own wand out and pointing it towards the now empty box on the counter, “Like this, love,” he demonstrated, moving his wrist in a semi-circle motion, making the box levitate off the counter.

Another pet name. You ignored the butterflies in your stomach in favour of clearing your throat, squaring your shoulders and pointing your wand at the same box George had just made float, which was now settled back against the counter. Imitating the boy beside you, you moved your wrist in a swift semi-circle. Suddenly, a golden light poured from the tip of the wand and warm air surrounded you, gently blowing your hair back and forcing a laugh of disbelief to leave your lips. George stood wide eyed beside you, his lips parted slightly. He was amazed really, he went through five wands before he found the one that fit him, yet you’d found yours on the first try, and he had to admit; you looked glorious doing it.

After paying for your wand, you exited the shop, looking around George’s side at the list he was holding. From what you could make out, Cecillia had added a number of items to the originally very short list; 1) a wand, 2) a pendulum (crystal of the ladies choice), 3) crystals: labradorite, lapis lazuli & azurite, 4) mugwort, 5) new tarot deck (again, whatever she wants Sirius can afford it ;)).

“Suppose our next stop is the divination shop,” George said, mostly to himself but gave you a mischievous smile, “If we hurry up and get our shopping done fast we could probably get a butterbeer in before we rejoin the rest of the Order,” he sang, grazing his hand against yours as you walked side by side.

“Beer? You seriously want to drink beer at half eight in the morning?” You asked him, your eyebrow raised and he replied with an exaggerated roll of his eyes and draped his arm around your shoulder, pulling you close against his side and once again leaning his head down so his lips were level with your eye.

“No, you git,” he began with a laugh, “It’s not really beer, it’s pretty sweet; most wizards love it.”

You hummed in acknowledgment, “Sounds nice,” you told him absently, preoccupied with all the intriguing shops that surrounded you. George’s arm remained wrapped around your shoulder as you strolled further into Diagon Alley, seemingly uninterested in his offer for a butterbeer. The pair of you got what you needed from the shop and, since it hadn’t taken long, you decided to take George up on his drinks offer. You noticed that he seemed a little bit crestfallen since your noncommittal answer earlier.

“Hey,” you said, bumping your arm against his.

“Hello,” he replied, returning the gesture.

“So… d’you wanna go get one of those beer things that you were talking about earlier?” You asked nervously, your lip between your teeth. For all you knew, asking someone to grab a butterbeer in the wizarding world was the muggle equivalent to proposing.

George flashed you a grin that was almost childlike, it was mesmerising, so sweet and pure and you almost wished you’d brought your camera to take a picture of it. “I thought you’d never ask.”

With a giggle you let him grab your hand and lead you excitedly towards a building that had “The Leaky Cauldron” written above the door. When you got inside, George led you to a small round table with two chairs and you both sat down opposite each other. As casually as you could, you rested your elbow against the table and let your cheek rest against your fist, for a solid few minutes, while George ordered, you curiously looked around the pub until your gaze finally rested on George who was already looking at you with a soft smile, “Having fun?” He asked, genuinely curious.

You nodded your head, “Mhm, are you? I’m sure getting up at the crack of dawn to take me shopping isn’t something someone like you would usually like to do for fun,” you said, becoming slightly self conscious when you realised that he probably wasn’t enjoying the morning as much as you were. This was all normal for him, you’d nearly forgotten.

George gave you a perplexed look, “Course I’m having fun, love. But, what do you mean someone like me?”

You shrugged, once again pushing down the butterflies that arose in your stomach from the pet name, “I dunno, you’re just- you’re mischievous and fun and… I don’t know, shopping for stuff with me doesn’t seem like it’s something you’d want to do. I just hope Sirius didn’t force you into it,” you admitted shyly, smiling gratefully at the waiter when he placed the mugs of golden liquid on the table.

George chewed on his bottom lip for a second before he shook his head, “He didn’t force me. I sort of, well, I sort of forced him to let me take you. He wanted Professor Lupin to do it but I…” he let out an exaggerated sigh before giving you a smile, “I wanted to spend time with you,” he confessed sweetly, watching happily as a smile formed on your lips and you tried to hide it in the rim of your butterbeer. He laughed when your face lit up once the liquid hit your lips, “Like it?”

“This stuff is amazing,” you almost shouted, taking another large sip from the drink, “No wonder you all love it so much.”

George snickered, “Just in case it wasn’t clear; I’m having a lot of fun with you,” he said all too casually, taking a sip of his drink.

“Where to now?” You wondered, after you’d finished your drinks and set off back towards the floo network.

George shot you a cheeky look and wiggled his eyebrows, “I’m taking you back to headquarters.”

“Sounds ominous,” you commented, following him into the fireplace, nervously.

“D’you want a tip?” George asked out of the blue and you looked up at him expectantly, nodding. “The dizziness isn’t as bad if you keep your eyes open,” he whispered, taking your hand once again and throwing down the same green powder from earlier and shouting a new location that you hadn’t heard before. You cringed as the world began to spin, listening to George’s advice hadn’t helped much as the transportation was just as awful as it had been the first time. Unbeknownst to you, you were squeezing George’s hand like your life depended on it, George’s thumb had resumed brushing circles around your hand in response, the harsh squeezing didn’t bother him at all, not when it was you doing the squeezing. Just like earlier, George led you out of the fireplace and into the unfamiliar sitting room. Though the room was completely unfamiliar it was full of faces you immediately recognised, one face in particular standing out above all the rest.

In a second you’d dropped not only George’s hand, but all of your shopping bags to the floor carelessly and hurled yourself towards the boy who had already begun rushing towards you the second he caught sight of you appearing in the fireplace. Your bodies collided with so much force that you nearly sent each other tumbling to the ground, laughter sounded from both of you as you swayed the other, almost roughly, the way you always did when reuniting after an extended period of time.

“Glad to see you in one piece, Harry,” you told him with a cheeky smile on your lips, opting not to call him Haz in front of all of his wizard friends lest they tease him, not to mention you’d become quite possessive of the nickname, you wouldn’t be too pleased if anyone else started adopting it. Not that you’d ever admit that out loud.

“Yeah, you too,” his smile was as wide as could be when he shook his head, “I can’t believe you’re actually here.”

“Do you want me to pinch you?” You teased, jokingly taking his cheek between your thumb and your pointer, giving the skin between them a gentle squeeze. Harry swatted your hand away with a low chuckle and unraveled his arms from around you.

“Alright, you two, if you’re ready we have some matters we need to discuss with our newest member,” Sirius’ voice sounded from behind you, a knowing look on his face as he watched Harry sneakily pinch your arm in retaliation. He had to fight the urge he felt to reminisce on his old school days; when he’d purposely annoy James, Remus or Peter and receive the exact same mockingly vengeful look that you’d just given Harry.

“I’ll bring your things to the kitchen,” George announced, reminding you of his presence before he walked rather quickly out of the room, bags clutched in his hands.

Harry snorted out a laugh when Sirius followed George out of the room, leaving the both of you alone. Harry wiggled his eyebrows and did his best to make his voice take on a sultry tone, “he’s bringing your things to the kitchen.”

“Shut your mouth, Potter,” you replied, pinching his cheek for the second time and tossing your arm around his shoulder, him doing the same as he led you to what you assumed was the kitchen.

“Do I have your permission to open my mouth to tell you something,” Harry asked lightly, stopping so you were both standing outside a closed wooden door.

“I’ll allow it,” you answered, smiling softly at your best friend.

Harry grinned, “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, Haz,” the boy groaned at the name but made no further comment, he pushed the wooden door open and walked inside.

The room held a long table where many adults were sat, chatting in hushed whispers when you entered the room, some of whom you recognised and some you didn’t. Mrs. Weasley was fluttering about the table, filling people’s tea cups before she spotted you. The woman, who you’d only ever met briefly at King’s Cross station one year, rushed over to you and greeted you warmly, “Hello, dear! Come, come sit down!” She ushered you to a vacant chair beside George and across from Fred, Harry took the seat on your other side. “I trust you got everything you needed from Diagon Alley? I hope that son of mine didn’t cause any trouble for you,” you gave her a friendly smile and shook your head.

“Yes, we were able to find what we needed and George was very helpful,” Mrs. Weasley, seemingly satisfied with your answer, offered a gentle smile to you and George. She then pushed a cup of tea towards you before sitting down herself.

Beneath the table George bumped his knee lightly against yours, but didn’t break from his conversation with his twin as he left his knee pressed against yours. You didn’t draw attention to it either, simply letting your knee relax against his as the witches and wizards at the long table grew quiet in favour of staring at you wordlessly.

“I’m sure you’ve all heard the news of the seer we’ve acquired,” Sirius’ commanding voice broke the silence as he stood up from his chair, and placed his palms against the table, “I’ve brought her here today so that we may discuss proceedings to ensure her safety.”

“Yes,” a toneless drawl, drawn out nasally from the end of the table drew your attention to a black haired man at the opposite end of the table, “and what of Mr. Potter’s presence?” He asked, almost menacingly. Right off the bat, you didn’t like the greasy haired man. He was rigid and his face sported a permanent snarl and from across the table you could already tell; he wasn’t on your side.

“She’s my best friend, I’m here to make sure she’s not going to be put in any unnecessary danger,” Harry told the man shortly, in a tone that he’d more than likely perfected after having spoken to the man previously.

“As touching as that may be,” the older man snarled, “you are not a member of the Order.”

“Oh, enough, Serverus,” Sirius scoffed, pulling his hand down his face in exasperation before he let his eyes settle on Harry, “Perhaps you should wait upstairs for now. We’ll let you know of any significant updates.”

“I’ll tell you everything later, promise,” you whispered quietly, linking his pinky with yours beneath the table before he stropily took his leave.

“As I was saying,” Sirius spared Severus a glare and continued, “As we know, Yn is an unregistered wizard with an unregistered wand, meaning she won’t be on the radar of The Ministry of Magic. On the downside of this, seeing as her power manifested late, she is also untrained.”

All gazes fell to you once more, only Remus’ eyes were staring softly, crinkled at the edges from the smile on his lips, “I’ll be tutoring her in Defence Against the Dark Arts over the summer. She’ll catch up quickly, no doubt,” you smiled gratefully at him from your spot, relaxing a bit knowing that you’d actually be learning how to defend yourself the wizard way.

“I suppose I will be tasked with teaching the art of Occlumency? A seer with an easily accessible mind is hardly an asset,” Severus drawled. You didn’t have a clue what occlumency was, in all honesty, but you kept your mouth shut in favour of asking Remus when the meeting was over.

The meeting soon drew to a close, the older Order members slinking to one end of the table to arrange the schedule for your glorified summer school while you, Fred and George snuck away to find Harry. You found him sitting against the headboard of a bed in one of the upstairs bedrooms, “How’d it go?”

“Take a guess, mate, Snape had a right sour look on his face the whole time,” Fred answered, sitting on the bed across from Harry’s. George sat beside him and you made your way to sit with Harry.

“Ah, so that was the infamous professor Snape?” All three boys nodded, looks of exhaustion on their faces, “I don’t trust him. Something is very off about him,” you spoke thoughtfully and the boys nodded in agreement once again.

“I don’t like the idea of you being alone with him,” George said, his brows furrowed.

Fred snorted and clapped his twin roughly on the shoulder, “Getting a bit jealous are you, Georgie?” Harry laughed along with Fred while you blushed lightly and George felt heat rising up the nape of his neck.

“Sod off,” he muttered, but made no attempt to deny that he was slightly jealous of all the alone time his old evil potions professor would be getting with the girl he was harbouring feelings for.

The afternoon quickly turned into the evening and before long you were gathering your things and preparing to return to Cecillia’s. Harry would be heading back to the Dursley’s later that night, much to his dismay. You told him you’d be back on Privet Drive at some point the next morning since Cecillia would be dropping you home, as she promised your parents, so he wouldn’t have to suffer alone for too long.

That summer came and went in a bit of a blur. Two days in each week were spent learning how to protect yourself against the dark arts with Remus. He’s an amazing teacher, that couldn’t be disputed. In the space of only two months he had you duelling like you’d been doing it since the day you were born. Of course, you were thrilled to be bonding with your wand and developing (according to Remus) a very impressive skill for Defence Against the Dark Arts. But, on top of that, the shared conversations and exchanging of stories over hefty mugs of hot chocolate with the werewolf had been a huge highlight of your summer, and had caused the two of you to grow exponentially closer.

September was nearing and with it came a stiff breeze that prompted the hair on your arms to stand alert as you waited by the bus stop, the one just down the road from your house. Today was to be an important lesson with Remus, he hadn’t told you what the lesson would entail, but he had said that it was a charm that was “of the utmost importance”.

Although June, July and August were technically your summer holidays, you’d barely had a second to rest. You were, at this point, running on fumes and sheer will power. Extensively using magic was bound to wear you out, however, getting a good night’s rest after a gruelling training session had become something of a luxury for you. Visions of the future and retellings of past torments plagued your dreams and allowed you no time to rest. One vision in particular had been reoccurring, it arrived every night for the past two weeks, taunting you. The autumn chill that dripped down your spine reminded you of the premonition, having your hairs standing due to fright, rather than cold. It was always the same, no details ever shifted or warped and, unfortunately, the experience never grew any less harrowing. The warning that the vision brought about weighed on you heavily and followed you around like a stray cat. Images of a cold, desolate, blue-hued cellar lived behind your eyes, the phantom feeling of freezing metal shackles weighed on your wrists painfully and the undiluted terror combined with the indescribable agony brought about by the unfamiliar wand shoved against your throat had you forcing yourself to stay awake until you physically couldn’t anymore, each and every night. Nobody knew about the vision, you didn’t want to worry them, though, you knew that your distress was beginning to become visible; dark bags were prominent beneath your eyes, Harry had watched you fall asleep in the middle of the day, often on his shoulder, almost everyday that week and Remus could tell by the sluggish movements of your wand that your mind was elsewhere.

A few minutes passed before your bus arrived, the journey to Grimmauld Place was quite long but you couldn’t seem to warm up to floo travel, so going on a regular bus was the better option. When the red double decker pulled up, you greeted the driver with a smile and paid for your ticket. You made your way up to the second story and sat right at the front. The bus, as it normally tended to be, was empty. Resting your head against the window, you let your eyes slip shut, the noises of tree branches brushing against the speeding windows lulling you into a, hopefully, peaceful sleep.

Thankfully when you woke up, no visions lingered. You woke up just in time too as the bus was rounding up to your stop. As usual, Remus waited for you at the bus stop, his hands shoved deep in his tattered jacket pockets and a gentle smile on his lips.

Still groggy from your nap, when you exited the bus you greeted Remus with a tired wave.

“Dare I say you haven’t been sleeping well, dear?” He said gently, walking alongside you towards the house.

You thought about it for a second, perhaps telling someone wouldn’t be the worst idea in the world. “I’ve just, well, I’ve been having this nightmare,” you started, growing nervous just thinking about it.

“Nightmare or vision?” He pressed as you walked into the house.

Guilt creeped into your chest upon seeing the clear worry on his face, “I think it’s a vision.”

Remus nodded quietly, placing his hand on the small of your back and pushing you in the direction of the living room. He gave you a warm smile, when you sat down on the sofa. He grabbed a blanket that hung over the back of the sofa and draped it over your lap. “I’ll make us some hot chocolate and we can discuss this,” he suggested.

“I thought you had an important lesson for today?” He only shook his head, smiling lightly.

He made his way to the door wordlessly and returned within two minutes with two big, steaming mugs in his hands. Remus handed you a mug and sat down beside you on the sofa, accepting your invitation to pull the blanket over his lap too.

“Now tell me; what has been going on in that wonderful mind of yours?”

You took in a deep breath, staring into the hot chocolate and avoiding his understanding gaze, “It happened for the first time around two weeks ago. I thought that it was just a dream, it didn’t feel like a dream but I thought that if I kept telling myself it was I would start to believe it,” you started, taking a sip of your drink before going back to staring at it, “But it kept coming back. Every night for the last two weeks. I haven’t been able to sleep, I’ve been too scared to,” your voice was small as you made the confession. You hated that the feeling of helplessness was beginning to wash over you yet again.

“What happens in this vision?” At his question, you placed your cup on the floor and turned to face him fully, turning on the sofa and pulling your knees up to your chest.

“It’s always the same. I wake up and the first thing I know is that I’m absolutely freezing. I’m in this cellar-like thing. I’m chained up by my wrists and my feet are barely touching the ground… I can’t see anyone but I can feel-“ your breath hitched and you rushed the swipe the tears that were falling away from your cheeks, “I can feel a wand against my throat, it’s pressing hard. There’s a whisper, it’s quiet and ghostly and I can barely make it out but I hear them say; crucio.”

Remus’ eyes widened in horror.

“Then I feel nothing but agonising pain and then I wake up,” Remus’ eyebrows furrowed.

“You’ve had this same vision every night?” You nodded.

“I know I should have said something but I didn’t want anyone to worry,” it was then that Remus grabbed your hands and looked at you with a sense of urgency you didn’t know he could possess.

“I need you to listen to me very carefully,” his eyes were wild and his hands shook lightly as they held yours, “You-Know-Who is back. There are already reports of certain Wizards going missing and none of us have any doubt that it’s his doing. And although I- we- care for you a great deal, it would serve us all well to remember that you’re a detrimental piece in this war. If he catches wind of you, he’ll stop at nothing to take you from us,” your heart was now running at the speed of a hummingbird. “We have a plan in place to keep you safe, I fear we may have to implement it sooner than planned.”

Before you knew it, you were surrounded by the entire Order of the Phoenix, all of whom looked grave. Cecillia sat to your right while Nymphadora Tonks occupied the seat to your left. You had the pink haired auror to thank for your duelling capabilities, as well as Remus of course. Her presence was comforting, she made it a point to shoot you a wink every time she caught your eyes looking more fearful than usual.

“Our original plan will need to be tweaked, I ran into Narcissa Malfoy in Diagon Alley and she very plainly insinuated that I was a person of interest in the death eating community,” Cecillia informed the table, a, for lack of a better word, bitchy tone laced in her voice. She’d told you many of her Hogwarts stories, you could recall her telling you that she and the woman she’d mentioned, Narcissa, had once been good friends until around their fourth year. She hadn’t told you what exactly had happened, only that it had been messy.

“What was the original plan?” You asked, growing frustrated with the Order’s lack of communication skills.

Thankfully, being one of the younger members of the group, Tonks understood your frustrations and spoke up on behalf of the group, regardless of whether they were ready for you to know or not; she understood that it was your life they were coordinating.

“We talked about relocating you to CeCe’s. We also, and far more pressingly, planned on erasing all traces of you from both the muggle and wizard world. Which would mean using a memory charm on your family and friends in the muggle world,” Tonks explained, eyes locked on yours while everyone else in the room glared daggers at the purple haired girl.

“Yes. Though we also planned on telling you this information with a far more delicate approach,” Snapped Molly Weasley from the end of the table, causing Fred, who sat to her left, to roll his eyes.

“She’s been riddled with visions of being ruthlessly tortured with an unforgivable curse for the past two weeks. I think the time for delicacy is long passed,” the older of the two twins practically scoffed. George nodded in agreement.

“Besides,” he set his gaze on you, eyes genuine and unwavering as he spoke, “she’s strong enough to handle the truth. It’s time you all stopped acting like she isn’t.”

The table fell silent. His words hung in the air as many of the adults hung their heads.

“By memory charm I’m assuming you mean obliviate?” You broke the silence, if you could you hoped to start an open conversation with the experienced witches and wizards that surrounded you.

“Yes. They’re completely reversible and once the war is over I’ll restore all of the memories.” Cecillia said.

“We know it’s a huge ask, dear, but it’s our best chance at keeping you out of that wretched creature’s hands,” Molly attempted to soothe both you and herself when she pictured what it would like to be in your shoes, how she’d feel if she had no other choice but to be forgotten by the thing she valued the most; her family. Molly Weasley had never been very good at hiding her maternal instincts, over the summer that fact had become glaringly obvious to you. You and Harry had laughed about how the children of Privet Drive had a special place in her heart.

“I understand,” you told her sadly, chewing on the inside of your lip, “I’m guessing by the atmosphere in the room that I won’t be home to say goodbye before you wipe their memories,” you shifted yours eyes from person to person, stopping when Cecillia took your hand firmly in hers.

Her lips were downturned and her eyes filled with guilt, she shook her head mournfully, “I’m afraid we can’t risk it, my darling. Even being here places you in danger at the moment.”

“Where will she go then? If CeCe’s place isn’t an option we’ll have to find a safe house,” Sirius sounded and, simultaneously, both Fred and George stood up, shoulder to shoulder with very professional expressions on their faces.

“We may be able to help with that, actually. George, if you would,” Fred started, nodding to his twin who straightened his shoulders and puffed his chest out over so slightly.

“Thank you, Fred. As you know, we have a property for Weasley Wizard Wheezes secured and we’ll be living in the flat above where the shop will be,” everyone at the table, including yourself, stared at the twins in confusion, not quite sure where they were going with their little pitch until Fred took over again.

“And that flat has three bedrooms,” he said, a smirk growing on his thin lips.

George spoke again, “Which means there’s one for me and one for Fred.”

“Which means there’s one spare,” Fred grinned wickedly.

Tonks let out an impressed laugh once the penny finally dropped, “We apparate her in and nobody would ever know a thing. Nobody other than those of us in the room know that Y/n is a friend of the Weasley’s, plus us visiting the joke shop wouldn’t raise any suspicion. I have to give it to them, it’s a great idea,”

“And one of the two of us will always be within shouting distance if anything happens,” George added, somewhat pleadingly.

Sirius looked across the table at you, “Y/n, it’s up to you. Whatever you decide will be final, we won’t interfere,” he promised sincerely. It was an easy decision, but still, it weighed heavily on your chest. In all honesty, you weren’t worried about your location, staying with the twins would surely be a light and fun time amidst all the doom and gloom. Your worry was that you would, once again, be handing over your control. Sirius dressed it up as though it was your choice, but you knew that this was probably their best option and in reality you really had no other choice than to move in with Fred and George.

“Sounds good to me,” you whispered halfheartedly, eyes dropping to stare at your lap as your teeth pulled anxiously at the skin of your lips.

“So it’s settled then,” Remus said, “Y/n will go with Fred and George tonight.”

Abruptly, you pushed your chair away from the table and stood up. Sparing nobody a glance, you left the room as quickly as you possibly could, before the lump in your throat could choke you or the tears that pooled in your eyes spilled like water through a broken dam. George made a move to rise from his seat only for Remus to stop him by placing his hand on the boy’s shoulder, “Give her a moment.”

You found yourself locked in the second story bathroom, sitting in the bath. Your legs hung out over the side of the tub while your head was tilted back against the black tiled wall. As hard as you tried to prevent them, tears were streaming down the expense of your cheeks, neck and beneath the neckline of your shirt. The minutes ticked by yet your chest continued to rise and fall rapidly due to the sobs that shook it, your breath uneven. Visions of brutal torture were bad enough when you were in your own home, in your own warm bed, with your parents just a room away and ready to make you a hot cup of tea after you woke up screaming. Now, the visions would without a doubt continue to plague you, unlike before though, you wouldn’t be waking up in a familiar setting, nor would you fall asleep in the comfort of your own mattress, when you woke up screaming so loud that your throat grew raw, your comfort would rely on two seventeen year old boys who seldom took things seriously. It’s not that you didn’t trust them, no, you trusted them with your life- you are trusting them with your life, it’s just that there was already a lot going on in your mind at the moment, moving in with your crush and his identical twin brother isn’t exactly your idea of a nerve killer.

A knock against the bathroom door pulled you from your thoughts. You rushed to wipe your tears with your sleeves, sniffling, “Come in,” you choked out. Cursing your voice for breaking when you spoke.

Remus’ head poked through the door, his body following soon after. Even in an atmosphere as dense as this one, a sense of gentle calm always followed Remus wherever he went. Clumsily, the werewolf slid into the bath beside you with a low “oof” sound, mimicking your position with his much longer legs dangling closer to the wooden floor than your own.

“CeCe has gone to collect your things for you and get Harry, then, I believe, perform the spell,” he eyed you cautiously, hyper aware of your glassy eyes and puffy face. When your eyes widened and you whipped your face towards him, his stomach twisted into knots, he hated seeing you like this. He could sympathise with your feelings. When James and Lily were killed, and Sirius went to Azkaban and even when Peter was presumed dead, Remus had been left with a vicious frustration fuelled by his belief that he was utterly powerless in his own life. He could see in your eyes that that same notion was starting to creep up on you too.

“Already?” You gasped out, pulse rising again, a slight panic setting in. “It won’t hurt them will it? The spell?” You fretted, looking pleadingly to the man beside you.

He shook his head, tenderly taking your hand and placing it against his clothed chest, his beating heart present against the palm of your shaking hand. “I promise you that they won’t feel a thing. They will go on living an exciting life, travelling, seeing the world safely while you’re away. When this is all over we’ll place their memories of you back in their minds and it will be as though you were never gone.” Your teeth found the inside of your cheek again, gnawing relentlessly at the skin as you failed miserably to hold back a fresh set of tears. Remus squeezed the hand he held against his chest. “Let it out, Y/n. It’s okay, I won’t tell anyone,” he whispered, heart sinking lower when your bottom lip quivered and you let a rasped sob leave your body. With a deep sigh, Remus used the hand he was already holding as leverage to pull you into him, wasting no time he enveloped you in his arms, holding you securely as you cried against his chest. Admittedly, it felt good to let it out, Remus’ hand rubbed soothing circles against your heaving back and eventually, you didn’t know how long it had been, you calmed down, your tear ducts all dried out.

Remus held you in his arms for a while longer, even though you’d stopped crying, he could feel your body as it continued to shake. “I can’t promise you it will all be okay, but I can assure you that myself and Sirius, and everyone else for that matter, will be there for you at the drop of a hat; whatever you need,” he spoke against your hair.

“Whatever I need?” You echoed, the pit in your stomach ever growing.

“Of course,” he confirmed.

Remus startled slightly when you suddenly tore yourself away from him. As best you could in your awkward position, you turned to face him and grabbed his hands with as much urgency as he had done with yours. “I need you to do something for me,” Remus furrowed his brows in confusion, but nodded his head anyway.

“If anything happens to me… Don’t make them remember,” you instructed, maybe the request would’ve seemed radical if you had said it to anyone else, but you knew that Remus had experienced losses like no one else you knew, perhaps Harry came close but even his shortcomings couldn’t compare to Remus’. “It’d only cause them pain. If I die and they’re happily living none the wiser, leave them be, please,” the man let out a heavy sigh and took a moment to take you in. Your eyes were hard yet pleading, they left him no room to negotiate and he understood perfectly where you were coming from.

“Alright,” he agreed before raising his eyebrow and readjusting himself to get a better look at you, “However you should know; no matter what may come of this war, none of us will forget about you. In such a short time you’ve given us so much… you gave Harry his first friendship, a friendship that he cherishes more than anything in the world, I might add. You saved Sirius from death, my fiancé and Harry’s godfather. Mentoring you has given Cecillia a new lease of life and Molly Weasley one more child to knit jumpers for at Christmas,” he took a brief pause then went on, “For the sake of saving time I won’t even begin to tell you what you mean to the twins. My point is;” there was a melancholic type of smile on his face when he paused again, as if he was imagining what it would be like to remember you fondly if you did in fact die for the cause, “What you’re asking is incredibly selfless. And while your mother and father may not remember how wonderful you are, we all will.” Remus chuckled lowly when you shuffled your way back into his arms, squeezing his middle tightly. He slung his arm around your shoulders and delicately pressed his lips to the top of your head. You held so much love in your heart for the man who was currently cradling you in his arms. You debated telling him, you weren’t sure if it was entirely appropriate but after the speech he’d just given you couldn’t have cared less, “Remus?”

“Hm?”

“I love you,” you murmured, looking up at him innocently.

He offered you a toothy smile and breathed out a soft laugh, “I love you too.” With a content nod, you rested your head back against his chest, enjoying his soothing heartbeats against your ear. A melodic hum rumbled against your cheek, a quiet giggle left your mouth when you recognised the melody to the song he was humming. The tune of “Rhiannon” by Fleetwood Mac floated through the bathroom bringing a genuine smile to your lips. The werewolf’s humming was interrupted by another knock against the bathroom door, whoever was knocking didn’t wait for a response before entering the room. Sirius stepped in and quietly shut the door behind him. He didn’t question you and Remus' position in the bath but simply slid into the tub on the other side of you, sandwiching you between himself and Remus. The black haired man let out a heavy sigh and leaned his head back against the tiles.

“The mother hens downstairs are worrying up a storm,” he said in exasperation, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Tonks so riled up about someone’s safety. I tasked Molly with making you some hot chocolate to keep her occupied”

“Maybe I should go back down…” you muttered halfheartedly, begrudgingly peeling yourself away from Remus’ warm body.

Sirius gave you an apologetic look, “I held them off for as long as I could.”

“Thanks,” you whispered, bumping your shoulder to his, making him chuckle. After pulling yourself out of the bath, rather clumsily, you took a second to check yourself over in the mirror.

“You’re glowing, darling,” Sirius all but sang from behind you and you couldn’t stop the slight snort that escaped you.

“That’s one way to put it.”

“If you don’t believe me go on downstairs and ask George what he thinks,” Sirius teased, wiggling his eyebrows and receiving a light shove from his fiancé who couldn’t hide his grin.

“Leave her alone, love,” he chastised weakly, “You look perfectly fine, Y/n. Go downstairs and get something to drink, you need to rehydrate.” A bittersweet smile broke out on your lips, his fatherly tone simultaneously soothed you and left you yearning for what you were in the process of losing. Trying not to dwell on the sad fact, you left the bathroom and slowly descended the stairs.

As you assumed, the second you stepped back into the kitchen, Molly began to fret over you as if her life depended on it. Sipping on the hot chocolate she’d given you, you were reminded of how desperately tired you were. All the crying hadn’t helped ease the heaviness in your eyes either. Every bone in your body felt heavy for that matter, you were struggling to even hold your head up.

“You can lean against my shoulder if you’d like,” George’s voice broke you from your hazed state, you’d completely forgotten he was sitting beside you despite his leg that was pressed against yours beneath the table. You gave him a sleepy but grateful smile, as subtly as you could you scooched closer to the ginger and slotted yourself against his side, letting your head fall onto his shoulder. “Will you keep me awake until Harry and Cecillia get here?” You requested in a slurred murmur, your eyes fluttering between open and shut.

“Of course,” was all he said, he looked down at you adoringly, smiling like an idiot when you nuzzled into his shoulder, your nose rubbing against his neck. Try as he might, George couldn’t pull his eyes away from your drowsy face. “What do you propose we do?”

You shrugged your shoulders lightly, “Just talk.”

“How would you like your new room decorated?” He asked quietly, his head tilted down while he spoke to you, so you could hear him and so he wouldn’t ruin the lulled bubble you’d managed to obtain between you by talking too loudly. A sweet smile grew on your face, a smile that all but knocked all the breath out of George’s lungs when you angled your head to make eye contact.

“Can I have a double bed?” George snorted at your question and shook his head no.

“Nothing smaller than a king. What else?”

You pretended to ponder for a moment, “Can we paint it?” The ginger nodded, taking his bottom lip between his teeth.

“If you want to,” he started, almost sounding nervous, “We could paint it together?” Even in your sleep deprived state you hadn’t missed the vulnerability in his voice, it was the same vulnerability that you’d noticed when he’d asked you to go get a butterbeer with him a couple of months ago.

“I’d love that,” you told him, your answer causing his lips to twist into a pleased smile, “How do you feel about the colour green?”

Immediately, his smile dropped and he let out a disgusted scoff, “Green is a Slytherin colour.”

“You keep forgetting that I don’t get the whole house sorty thing,” you reminded him, not happy with his reasoning for hating your favourite colour. “Besides, I love green, it’s my favourite colour.” You told him truthfully. Not content with his disgruntled facial expression you began to defend your preference, “A lot of beautiful things are green; you’ve got grass, trees, emeralds- did you know that emeralds are really useful for enhancing psychic abilities? It also evokes clarity of thought,” you rambled, willing yourself to be quiet when you registered George’s fond expression.

The look of endearment aimed at you brought butterflies to life in your stomach, effectively waking you up somewhat.

“Do you have any emerald?” He asked, you assumed he was only feigning interest, you didn’t know that he could’ve listened to you go on and on about anything and everything for the rest of his life.

“No, not yet. I should probably get some though.” You said through a yawn. Your breath against his neck made him giggle, it was pure and unsuspecting but you took note of it. Everything about George Weasley felt like sunshine to you, his laugh filled your chest with warmth whenever you heard it, his eyes found yours like a lighthouse, guiding your lost mind back to the present each time your gazes connected. His voice, like his laugh, warmed you up when you were cold, giving you a reason to stay awake when you’d rather just slip away. In conjunction with the sun, even if you couldn’t physically see him, you never doubted that he was always there. As well as all of that, like your favourite tarot card; The Sun, he signified good things, hope that hard times will end with you on top, contentment and happiness. While your thoughts consisted of George’s similarities to the sun, his were consumed with the, in his mind, overwhelmingly cheesily romantic notion that you were the moon and the stars, he would’ve cringed if he didn’t wholeheartedly believe it. Everything that made the night sky magnificent was reflected in you. Like the stars, you were mysterious and captivating. Nothing seemed to compare to your glow or beauty, if you were to ask him what he preferred; you or the night sky on a clear night, he’d happily ignore a blank, starless sky in favour of simply staring at you as you went on tangent after tangent about crystals or tarot cards.

The pair of you were pulled from your musings when Harry rushed through the kitchen door looking unmistakably heartbroken, ever the empath when it came to his best friend, Harry’s heart sank the moment he laid eyes on your form, limp against George’s side. The second you saw him you all but ripped yourself from George’s side and the older redhead felt a surge of irrational jealousy begin to build in his chest at how fast you left his hold in favour of the chosen one. He knew it was ridiculous, he’d heard the way each of you respectively talked about each other, at this point you were practically siblings. But he supposed it was rational to be jealous when you liked someone the way he liked you.

Quickly, you crossed the room to Harry who had his arms already outstretched. He knew you were emotionally exhausted when you didn’t bear hug him. You meekly slid your arms beneath his open zip-up hoodie, tucked your head beneath his chin and didn’t say a word. “I shouldn’t bother asking if you’re okay then,” Harry muttered to himself, leaning his cheek against the top of your head and wrapping his lanky arms around your frame.

“Did Cecillia remember to bring Astra?” You asked, it was all you wanted to know about the night’s events.

“She’s in her cage in the living room, darling,” Cecilia said, walking into the room looking guilty.

“C’mon, let’s go have a chat,” Harry suggested, leading you out of the kitchen and upstairs to his unofficial room. Once inside the room you sat down on the edge of the bed, the blue duvet softly creasing beneath you. Harry plopped himself down beside you and offered you a gesture that was always saved for when either of you felt the other was on the edge of something dangerous. Your hands rested against your lap and he deftly slid his pinky over yours, intertwining your two littlest fingers. It was such a familiar experience; he’d done it when your grandparents died, when you’d cried over failed exams that you worked hard for, and in turn, you did it for him when he’d felt as though he had no place in the world, when he’d open up about his parents and when Cedric died and the ministry dragged his name through the mud you’d find your pinky tangled with his almost every night after he’d sneak over to your place after another nightmare or panic attack. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You shook your head, “Not tonight. I don’t want to cry anymore,” you croaked out, looking straight ahead of you at the grey painted wall.

“I understand,” he said, sighing and dropping his head onto your shoulder, “Let’s talk about something else then.”

“Like what, Haz?”

Harry snorted out a chuckle, “Like the way George looked like he wanted to hex me when you left him to come to me,” he teased, a smug lilt to his voice.

“He wasn’t teasing me, perhaps I’ll go back to him,” you grumbled, ignoring Harry’s childish giggles.

“Yeah you’d like that wouldn’t you?” You smacked his arm lightly with your free hand, doing a bad job of containing giggles of your own. “Don’t worry, since he’s going to be your new roommate there will be plenty of time for “oh George I’m so sleepy, please hold me until I fall asleep”,” you let out a cackle at Harry’s terrible impression of your voice, laying your cheek against his wild hair.

“That is so not what was going on, Haz,” you defended with a tiny smile.

Harry let out an airy, disbelieving chuckle, “Then what was going on?”

“He just said I could lean on him until you and Cecillia arrived and we just started chatting about how I wanna decorate my room,” you explained truthfully and Harry nodded.

“Riveting,” he mumbled sarcastically. Despite his snarky comment, the boy removed his head from your shoulder and pulled you against his chest. “Jokes aside, I’m glad you’re staying with him, I know he’ll look after you for me,” you rolled your eyes at the sentiment.

“I don’t need to be looked after,” you reminded him, looking up at him with a chastising smile.

He rolled his eyes right back at you, jostling you slightly in his arms, “No. But you like to be.”

You threw your head back in laughter, “Yeah, I suppose I do.” You did. You quite like both doting on people and being doted on, you’d grown up in an affectionate family so it was no wonder really.

“It’s getting late. We should get you settled into your new home,” Harry announced, pulling himself and you up from the bed, “I wasn’t going to say anything but you look terrible. You need sleep.”

“Thank you, Harry. Just what every girl wants to hear before moving in with her crush,” you joked, gently hitting your hip against his.

The kitchen was quiet when you returned, it seemed everyone had grown tired from the dramatic events of the evening.

“Ready to go then?” Fred asked, his coat already on and a handful of your bags in his hands.

“As I’ll ever be I suppose.”

After saying goodbye to everyone you, Fred and George traveled to their apartment by floo, to your dismay. The apartment was bare as they’d only just moved in but you could see it had lots of potential for becoming a cozy home for the twins.

As your first night in your new residence began, your aching eyes and tired mind didn’t leave you with any time to dwell on current events, the second your head made contact with the pillow you were out like a light. A dreamless slumber welcomed you for a while until your peace was broken by the all too familiar nightmare.

The first thing you recognised was the burn coming from your wrists. Shackles adorned them and effectively held your hands high above your head, stretching them uncomfortably. Goosebumps painted the expanse of your arms and legs, due to the freezing temperature in the nondescript cellar. A feeling of hopelessness planted firmly in your chest, the feeling only hightening when the familiar echo of footsteps, heavy and loud, drifted from the corridor outside of your field of vision. You knew who was approaching, you’ve lived this before, and so, you held your lip between your teeth and squeezed your eyes shut. The face of the dark wizard who always brought about your intense suffering was, for the most part, completely fuzzy, unrecognisable, featureless and bone-chillingly terrifying. You’d learned over the last two weeks of having this vision that it was less harrowing if you closed your eyes.

“I’ll ask you once more,” The voice was distorted, like it was being heard through a weedy radio, ominously unplaceable, “Where is he?”

You held no control over your voice, as was the norm during visions, as you felt and heard yourself reply, “I’ll tell you once more; I’d sooner die then sell him to you.” You felt your teeth gritting and your jaw clenching while you spoke. Jaw only tightening when the pointed tip of the wizard’s wand stabbed unforgivingly against the column of your neck.

“And die you will, my dear. But not yet-“ your eyes sealed themselves shut and you did your best to shake yourself out of the vision before what you knew was coming took place, as usual, your attempts were fruitless, “-Crucio.” Just like that your body was consumed by pain, the likes of which you’d never imagined possible, until you couldn’t even register yourself screaming anymore.

You bolted upright, clutching at the sheets of your new bed. Laboured breaths left your mouth and you aimlessly gripped at your neck, where the wand had been pressed, and let the tears spill freely. Momentarily disoriented, you’d forgotten where you were. Deep, heavy bursts of air left your mouth as you hastily scurried out of bed and towards the door. Somewhat aimlessly, you gravitated to the door across the hall. A yellow hue seeped from under the frame into the otherwise dark hallway. Light flooded the hall once you managed to fumble the handle down and pull the door ajar, a discombobulated ginger greeting you with half lidded eyes, obviously having been dozing off before you disturbed his peace.

“Sorry,” you rasped once your peace of mind returned to you and you realised where you were. Despite knowing that you shouldn’t have been standing numbly in his doorway, your feet seemed to be rooted in place, you couldn’t have walked away if you wanted to.

“S’alright,” George called out to you softly, sitting up in his bed, his back against the headboard. “You can come in, you know.”

Shutting the door behind you, you nervously shuffled into the room, stopping when you reached the side of his bed. George’s eyes roamed your face and he took notice of your still somewhat panicked expression, he drew his covers to the side and patted the empty space by his side. Something that always intrigued you was people’s preferred side of the bed, some people gravitated towards the left while others were more biased towards the right, but George Weasley? He slept right in the middle. The twin slept with a huge number of pillows, to the point where it was almost laughable, many of which you could only guess he’d smuggled from the Burrow.

Far too wound up to save face, you slid into his bed and didn’t shy away when he guided you into his side and tucked you tenderly beneath his lean arm. His embrace offered a greatly appreciated warmth as the chill of the dank dungeon always lingered long after the vision itself was over.

“What’re you doing up so late?” You asked, your voice gravelly. As you spoke, George effortlessly shuffled your body and his down so that your backs were resting on the mattress and not the headboard. Your head found it’s home against George’s shoulder and your hair was being tentatively twirled between his fingers.

“It’s our first night actually sleeping here. I couldn’t get to sleep,” he explained, his voice low and laced with fatigue. “I’m not really used to having my own room. It’s strange not hearing Freddie snoring or breathing.”

“I get that,” you whispered, “it’s quite comforting knowing for certain that someone is there with you.”

George nodded then. His eyes were glued to your face and he hadn’t even registered his own thought process before his lips were pressing delicately against your forehead. Today had appeared to be the day for laying all your cards out on the table, yourself and George hadn’t danced around your feelings for each other half as much as you usually did when you’d be in each other’s presence. Neither of you had the energy anymore, besides, if today’s events proved anything it was that; things were getting seriously messy as the war built momentum and it was clear that time was something that could very well be running out.

“Yeah,” he regarded you carefully, a little grin growing on his lips, “It is.”

A comfortable silence overtook the room. George’s twirling of your hair never ceased, every now and then his fingers would ghost over your shoulder and you’d catch yourself smiling against the cotton of his shirt as your eyes grew tired enough that they were close to falling shut.

Just as you were working up the motivation to lift yourself up and trudge back to your own bed, George spoke, “You can sleep here if you want, with me,” there was that innocent vulnerability again. There was never an ulterior motive when it came to him, he did things purely for the sake of making others happy, if he felt he could make a difference he simply needed to. Especially when it came to you, he realised.

“You don’t mind?” You asked, daring to peek up at him.

“Course not. I could use some company anyway.” He reassured you, his lips returning to your forehead, only this time the action held far more intention. “You don’t snore do you, love?”

You snorted out a giggle, looking up at the ginger cheekily, mischief dripping from your little grin that forced George’s heart to stutter rather violently and he hoped you hadn’t noticed. “No. But I drool.”

George’s face contorted, his nose scrunching up adorably in disgust, “Do you really?”

“Suppose you’ll have to find out, won’t you?” You teased and he sighed deeply, his disgruntled expression melting into a soft, adoring smile.

“I should’ve expected this, I knew you couldn’t have been completely perfect,” he said, mockingly sorrowful.

You scoffed, pushing his chest lightly, “You’re doing a lot of sweet talking tonight, Mr. Weasley,” you told him and he shrugged innocently.

“Just wanted to see you smiling again, darling.”

“Yeah, well, you’re doing a good job,” you assured him, the bashful yet tired smile that stretched your lips as you gazed up at him proved that you meant what you’d just said. “I like it by the way, the sweet talking.”

At your words, a huge, shit eating smirk grew on the boy’s freckled face. He managed to rearrange your bodies so that you were still tucked under his arm but you were now facing each other at eye level. “I knew it,” he proclaimed cockily.

You raised a challenging eyebrow, biting back a smirk, “Oh did you?”

George nodded pridefully, “‘Course I did. You see, I’m a little bit psychic,” his words forced a booming laugh from your lips, your cheeks hurting from the smile he’d orchestrated.

You shook your head, smile never dulling as you let out a chastising whisper, “oh sod off.”

“I love your smile,” he said suddenly, his eyes widened in horror when he realised he’d uttered the words out loud. The world could’ve stopped in that moment and you wouldn’t have noticed, all you could take in was George’s face, his eyes searching yours for something.

Carefully, you slid from hand from his chest to his red, blushing face. You cupped his cheek gently, moving your thumb against his cheek bone, almost swooning where you lay when he nuzzled against your touch. Working up some Gryffindor courage, George mimicked your movement, removing his arm from around your shoulder and bringing his palm to rest against the curve of your jaw.

As you stared at each other, you weighed up the pros and cons of telling him that you were completely head over heels for him. Your decision, apparently taking far too long, was made for you when George tugged you impossibly closer to him.

“I wasn’t going to tell you… you’ve had so much going on I didn’t want to overwhelm you,” he said, brown eyes boring into your soul.

“Tell me what?”

He took a deep breath, preparing himself for every possible outcome that may spring once the words on the tip of his tongue are spoken aloud, “That I love you.”

[theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin]

In your latest post, you said that Dumbledore MEANT to put Harry in a abusive household. That, or when he found out he did nothing to stop it. Why is that?

You’re going to get a lot of people angry with me. Well, I suppose they’re already angry. Somewhere out there, on the wider internet.

Right, anyway, the evidence of Harry’s abuse is so overwhelming that it seems improbable to me that Dumbledore wasn’t aware of what was happening. More, every interaction he has with not only Harry, but characters in similar circumstances, lends me to believe that in the event that Dumbledore does know he’d take no action.

Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone: Scene 1

We start out the entire Harry Potter series with Minerva and Dumbledore waiting in the early dawn for Hagrid’s arrival and to place Harry with the Dursleys. Minerva immediately announces her discomfort with this, 

She specifically says the following:

"You don't mean — you can't mean the people who live here? Dumbledore, you can't. You couldn't find two people who are less like us."

Lily Evans’ relatives are infamous enough such that Minerva McGonagall, who is presumably not as close as her like aged peers (i.e. Sirius, Remus, and Peter) knows about them.

Granted, some of this is anti-muggle sentiment. Minerva isn’t sure that suburban muggles raising a magical child like Harry Potter is a good idea. Nevertheless, she has deep misgivings, and relays them to Dumbledore.

We know from further evidence that Dumbledore is perfectly aware of what Petunia and Vernon are like as well. He gives Harry to the Dursleys anyway.

Dumbledore, for his own reasons, chooses not to listen.

Dumbledore’s Letter to Petunia

Dumbledore writes a letter to Petunia, knowing it is highly necessary, as he gives Harry to the family. The letter is... vaguely threatening but in a very polite Dumbledore way. It pretty much implies “Take Harry, or else, also be nice to your dead sister.”

The point is, Dumbledore is aware that this letter is highly necessary. And then... other things happen.

Dumbledore Sends Hagrid

Dumbledore sends Hagrid to pick Harry up.

Ordinarily, in such circumstances, Minerva is sent to introduce muggleborn children to the Wizarding World. “Perhaps she was busy,” you say, too busy for Harry Potter? Wizard Jesus and the child of perhaps her favorite students who she openly favors throughout the series?

“Perhaps Dumbledore was being nice to Hagrid, and he had an errand to do anyway,” well, it’s all well and good to be nice to Hagrid, but is he really the best guy to introduce anybody to the Wizarding World?

This is Hagrid, the likelihood of him having taken Harry to an exotic pet shop where Harry then gets eaten by the Chupacabra is 95%. The 5% where it didn’t happen is because Hagrid went to the pet shop alone and some, distant, rational part of his brain told him that Harry would want the pretty owl vs. the one-eyed blood sucking rat demon in the cage next to her.

You don’t send Hagrid if you want a child returned to you with all its limbs intact.

So why do you send Hagrid?

When you want someone who’s so painfully oblivious, loyal, and stupid that they could stare a hellscape in the face and wouldn’t even notice.

Hagrid gets a firsthand view of Harry’s living conditions. He learns that Harry’s relatives have been actively blocking Harry’s letters, that they have run across the country to avoid them. He sees the state of Harry’s clothing in comparison to Dudley, how thin Harry is in comparison to Dudley, and the way the family interacts with each other.

Harry’s child abuse is staring Hagrid right in the face.

Minerva would demand that Harry be placed somewhere else, they can find some other means of protecting him.

What does Hagrid do?

He gives Dudley a pig’s tail illegally and proceeds to tell Harry that Dumbledore is the greatest man who ever lived. 

Other Evidence Comes to Light

Other characters start getting pretty big warning signs that all’s not right at the Potters.

Ron and Hermione know the situation is “bad” and that Harry’s relatives “hate magic”. They’re also kids and don’t really understand what this means, the idea of being abused and hated by your guardians is unthinkable to them and Harry doesn’t come out and just say it.

That said, they’ve seen enough that they drop hints to those around them. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley are told about the bars on Harry’s window. Ron was so concerned about Harry in the summer after first year that he steals his father’s car with Fred and George to go pick him up. That is not normal behavior, that is deep concern for your friend.

Despite all of this... nothing happens.

Hermione spends far more time at the Weasleys then Harry ever does. Every summer, he returns to Privet Drive, and it’s likely if Arthur and Molly did have concerns Dumbledore told them off.

Arabella Figg

Arabella has been keeping an eye on Harry for years. She’s noted some very disturbing trends and been witness to years of the Dursleys interacting with Harry Potter.

She passes this information on to Dumbledore.

He knows how bad it is.

Harry Potter

Harry tells Dumbledore he does not wish to remain at the Dursleys, he notes that they don’t like him and he doesn’t like them. Now, he tries to downplay it, but this is a child saying some pretty disturbing things. You don’t brush this off.

Dumbledore does.

Dumbledore Visits the Dursleys

In book 6, Dumbledore visits the Dursleys and sees, in person, how bad it is. However, he shows no surprise, only vague disappointment in Petunia. Tsk, tsk, Petunia, I thought you were better than this.

He offers a few threats and then he and Harry go on their merry way.

Severus Snape

Snape is Dumbledore’s spy who reads Harry’s mind for half a year. Granted, Snape is a bastard who loathes Harry Potter, but he sees evidence of the Dursleys abuse of Harry.

We know, from what he relays to Dumbledore later, that he had at least some concern for Harry and was very disturbed by Dumbledore’s plan to murder him in cold blood due to the horcrux.

I think it’s very likely Severus Snape knew and told Dumbledore that Harry was being abused. I’m sure Albus’ response was, “Bitch, I know, would you like a lemon drop?”

Point being, there is no conceivable way that Albus Dumbledore, even if he was the world’s dumbest man, didn’t know exactly how bad it was. He let’s it happen anyway.

But What About the Blood Wards?

Dumbledore eventually tells Harry that the reason he can’t run away from Privet Drive is because of the blood wards created by his mother. They can only be applied if he lives with blood relatives and protect the Dursley house as long as Harry considers it home.

Now, this is a bit suspect given that Harry really considers Hogwarts his home, Privet Drive is just that hell hole he has to go back to every summer. Even the Burrow is more his home than Privet Drive so... That doesn’t sound right.

More, though, there are other means of protection.

There’s the Fidelius which Dumbledore casts on Sirius’ house in book 5. Given that, Harry really could have lived with Sirius (well, Sirius is not in a good place to have a kid around and that would be a disaster and a half). Point being, Harry could be raised elsewhere and there are wards that could protect him.

More, Voldemort and the Death Eaters are out of commission for thirteen years. Indeed, we see Dumbledore up Harry’s security detail by secretly assigning the Order to tail him after fourth year.

So, for a very long time, it’s not about Harry’s protection and when it does become that we see Dumbledore make significant changes.

So, what could it be?

Well, let’s look at Dumbledore’s other actions. Dumbledore prevents Harry from becoming prefect because “he thought it would go to his head”. Which, Harry should absolutely not be made prefect at all, and Ron’s a laughable candidate too but...

To me that’s very telling.

I hate to say this, but this is Dumbledore, but I think he has a very similar reasoning behind Harry going to the Dursleys.

He doesn’t want Harry to be corrupted by the Boy Who Lived persona. He wants him in a certain state of mind when he enters into the wizarding world and... Frankly, he wants him vulnerable. Dumbledore, in time, will need to either murder this boy or have him kill himself. If Harry has a halfway decent guardian, that task becomes a hell of a lot harder.

Harry has to love the wizarding world so much, trust Dumbledore so much, that these things are worth dying for.

You Mentioned Something About Dumbledore’s Other Actions?

Dumbledore has no sympathy for victims of child abuse.

Tom Riddle, an impoverished orphan loathed by those in his orphanage, he thinks is the very devil and sends him back into the Blitz with a smile and a wave. Enjoy the bombs, Tom, hope you die.

Severus Snape, the half blood child of an abusive muggle father and absentee mother, who is nearly murdered by Sirius Black via Remus Lupin, is told to shut the fuck up and sit down before he ruins the lives of his betters.

Dumbledore has a very bad track record with this and, well, Harry Potter is not an exception.

To be fair, I think the wizarding world has not concept of CPS or even child abuse. There’s no hint of a foster system, you go to the closest relative of the godparents. So, I think to them, you’re stuck with whoever you’re stuck with and if your uncle rapes you then it sucks to be you.

[zaina-xoxo]

Harry Potter headcanons (sad)

That Hermione and Ron always wanted a huge family. Like, 5 children filling a burrow. However, they ended up with only two. Why? Hermione’s torture at the hands of Bellatrix left its marks, and she couldn’t have children after Hugo. Dark Magic always left marks.

That Dumbledore never really left limbo. He stayed there forever, unable to allow himself to move due to the blood he had on his hands, lives he sacrificed for the greater good.

That George dyed his hair blue after the battle in order to stop reminding himself of Fred every time he saw a mirror.

That Grindelwald never stopped loving Dumbledore, and during their final duel, he actually had an opportunity to kill him, but couldn’t gather the will. Dumbledore used that moment to win.

That during Snape’s death, those tears with the memories, were also a sacrifice. Those tears were the memories themselves. So, when he died and went to the afterlife … he didn’t remember the person most featured in those memories, the one they focused on. In death, he never remembered Lily.

After the battle of hogwarts, Dennis Creevey becomes a photographer …. which was what his brother, Colin, had wanted to become when he grew up.

That Sirius willingly fell into the veil, which only kills if you completely were thrown into it. What happened was that half of his body went to the other side, and he was immediately assaulted by whispers of his dead loved ones, especially lily and James. He died with a smile, as he jumped in to his next great adventure.

That for the first fifteen years of his life, what Tom Riddle saw in the Mirror of Erised was himself with his parents in a rich household, in a loving family. All he wanted was to be loved. All that changed when he made his first horcrux.

That Dumbledore’s boggart was himself. And, that it really was him who killed Ariana, something he found out in the afterlife.

When Ron was a little boy he overheard his aunt Muriel talking to her friend that how amazing Ron's elder brothers were. But she called Ron ‘Molly's failed attempt for a girl’. She also said that Ron was worthless and he was no one compared to his elder brothers. Ron had developed insecurities about not being good enough from that overheard conversation.

When Ron left in DH Hermione wrote a letter. Conveying EVERYTHING she felt for him. She was almost certain that she would never see him again. She would never be able to tell him how she felt for him. She kept that letter in her beaded bag. Years later Ron found out that letter. And he cried.

Once during an auror mission Ron was injured badly. He almost died. Hermione didn't leave his side for once. When he was slightly better, Hermione told him that she was pregnant. That was when Ron had decided to quit his job.

When Ron and Hermione were staying at the shell cottage Hermione had a long conversation with Fleur. Hermione told her that there was a huge chance that she wouldn't survive the battle of Hogwarts. She was a muggleborn afterall. So if something happened she wanted Ron to move on with his life. She wanted Fleur to promise her that she would help Ron to move on with his life.

When the flashing green light came rushing at James Potter's way he didn't see death, but was reminded of two pairs of vibrant green eyes staring lovingly at him.

Death works differently in the HPU. Once you die, you have the choice to stay in limbo for as long as you want, or to take the train. You could also become a ghost. However, along with that there’s also the choice of becoming a creature which is the embodiment of death - a thestral. This is why Luna has a favourite Thestral, and why there’s a huge influx of them in the forbidden forest after the battle of hogwarts.

Neville kept visiting his parents. With every milestone that he hit — graduating Hogwarts, marrying Hannah Abbott, being hired as a professor — he made it a tradition to see them. It was not until he visited with a baby girl in his arms, Alice Francesca Longbottom, that he saw a flash of recognition in his mother’s eyes.

The day Harry was born, all the marauders found themselves in St. Mungo’s. Hours later, Remus awoke in his chair just in time to see a black-haired man with a crooked nose regarding the new-born. With a last glance upon Lily he left, seemingly unseen.

As a child Teddy had a huge crush on his Aunt Hermione, and he would often give her flowers and ask her if they could get married someday. Once he grew up, he was commonly teased about his childhood crush on his aunt (not sad)

During the first few years that Severus was teaching at Hogwarts, all of the other teachers were very uncertain of him. They all thought that Dumbledore was mad for hiring him, as they all knew of his reputation as a Death Eater. But eventually he struck up a very playful rivalry with Minerva. They would sit together at Quidditch matches and pass snarky comments back and forth, both of them snorting in amusement. It also wasn’t uncommon to find them sat together in the evenings, having a cup of tea or a glass of firewhiskey. By the time Harry Potter came to Hogwarts, Minerva believed in him almost as much as Dumbledore did. (He often urged Severus to tell her the real reason he defected from the Death Eaters, but Severus always refused.) His hatred of the young Gryffindor was often a point of contention between the two unlikely friends, but their friendship remained strong. It withstood Voldemort’s return and the reformation of the Order of the Phoenix. But in the aftermath of the Battle of the Astronomy Tower and Dumbledore’s death, Minerva was completely shocked and outraged. She couldn’t believe she’d ever befriended him at all and swore she’d never forgive herself for trusting him. During the last year the two taught together she avoided him at all costs, talking to him only when it was absolutely necessary, and when she had to she did so rather stiffly. After the Battle of Hogwarts ended and he was dead, however, she learned the truth about his actions from Harry, who told her about his tragic tale. She cried on and off for days. And the first time she came face to face with his portrait she completely broke down.

Had Fred not died, the twins would have had an overly casual double wedding [and would probably switch places to mess with their brides]

When Remus woke up in Harry’s compartment in POA, he saw Harry giving him the same comforting and concerned look as James. For a moment he thought he was seeing James again. Then in sunk in that his dear friend was dead and it was James’ son.

Teddy saw Sirius’ picture once. He didn’t know who he was, so he changed himself to look like him. It was only when he grew up that he understood why Harry started crying when he saw him.

Once Professor McGonagall was made headmistress, she let Hagrid become a student. Harry saw Hagrid’s Patronus for the first time in his life three years after the war. It was Hedwig.

When Petunia and Lily were little, they would read Alice in Wonderland. Petunia would read Dudley the book, fully knowing he didn’t like it. She was reading it for Harry, who was listening from inside his cupboard. Petunia believed she owed this to Lily.

When Harry was a baby, he didn’t know his own name. Each of the marauders gave him a nickname. (James called him troublemaker.) When he lived with the Dursleys, and they called him a “troublemaker”, toddler Harry would get excited thinking that his dad was going to take him away from these horrible people.

During the Battle of Hogwarts, Nearly-Headless Nick’s head finally came off. Hence, he had to join the Headless Hunt. Thus, Gryffindor needed a new applicant. The new house ghost was a 17-year-old redheaded man and a large group of 12 students were excited to meet their beloved uncle.

When Teddy Lupin was a baby, his color turned into the person he wanted to hold him. Occasionally, it was Harry or Ginny or any other Weasley. But one day it turned pink and he could do nothing about it.

The Marauders used to take turns babysitting Harry, and it became a tradition to pass the baby and say, “You’re it. Good luck.” And the last thing Sirius saw as he fell through the veil was Remus holding Harry, and the last thought that went though his head was, “You’re it. Good luck.”

After Fred’s funeral, George does not return to the Burrow until about a year later. He refuses to go upstairs where his and Fred’s old room is and barely says a word. His hair is some wild outrageous color, cropped short and crooked, and Mrs. Weasley goes into a fit. She loudly asks why he would do that to himself, and is not prepared when he says, “I kept seeing him in the mirror.”

It’s the year after the Battle of Hogwarts. The school is still being repaired and the class size has dwindled down to pitiful numbers. And the Thestrals are so excited about the newfound attention they’d been getting.

Dobby wrote a will in which he sent Harry over 200 pairs of socks, Ron a pair of trainers, and a misshapen hat for Hermione.

No matter what he was doing or who he was with, Harry would always stop and pet any stray dog that he came across. If he could, he would give them any food he had. Eventually he became known as the man with the treats. Not Harry Potter or the Chosen One; just the quiet man with dogbones. When dogs would bound up to him, throwing their paws onto his chest and barking with glee at his arrival, he was reminded irresistibly of Sirius.

At Colin’s funeral, Harry didn’t say a word. He had been to so many funerals recently that pleasantries felt like a waste of breath, and how terrible would it be for him to waste his breath when he was so lucky to have it? He stood silent and watching, and as the last of the attendees left, Harry placed a tiny picture on Colin’s grave, taken by the late boy himself. It was the only autograph Harry Potter would ever give.

On May 2nd, 1998, Hogwarts held a moment of silence for the fallen. Not a single portrait stirred, not a single stair shifted. Even Peeves ducked into a corner and went silent. Then, when the silence ended, millions of different colored sparks took off into the sky.

Tonks is easily excitable and loved entertaining Hermione and Ginny with her Metamorphosis abilities. One day, she found a picture of Harry in Sirius’ room to turn herself into, and ran downstairs to show Remus and Sirius. And it wasn’t until Tonks watched their hearts break that she realized Harry’s eyes were the wrong color.

Harry kept each and every one of the sweaters that Mrs. Weasley had knitted him. One day while cleaning, she saw them folded with so much care in his drawer. She turned to see Harry wearing his newest Christmas Sweater proudly, like it was the greatest honor he could have been given, and she burst into tears.

One day, Harry accidentally calls Mrs. Weasley “Mum” instead of Molly. His face goes bright red, fumbling with apologies, and she (once again) burst into tears.

The first thing Draco Malfoy did after the war was Apparate into Muggle London and march straight into a tattoo parlor. He emerges, his face still bloody and burned, with an arm void of a black skull. Instead, he looks down at the skin covered in flowers and the skull changed into a silhouette of the castle, and smiles for the first time in two years.

George pulls Harry aside:

(“Harry, you’ve died, haven’t you?”

Harry looked up at George and regarded him, careful not to let any incredulousness show in his eyes — he knew all too well of the torment George must be feeling, of the weight in what he was visibly preparing himself to say.

“I have,” said Harry carefully.

George dipped his head; as he did, Harry caught something in his eyes that pained him so deeply, he was grateful George had tried to hide it from him.

“Does it...” George spoke to his shoes, and his voice sounded much older than Harry remembered. “Did... Did dying hurt, Harry? D’you think… that Freddie was in pain when...”

But George did not need to specify. Like he had been smacked right across the face with the words left unspoken, Harry knew, and it was a long time before he answered.

“It didn’t hurt,” said Harry resolutely, like he was deciding it right then and there.“It didn’t?”

“Quicker and easier than falling asleep.”)

When Remus Lupin took the Map from Harry, he sat there for hours, opening and reopening it wrong on purpose just to see the clever insults sprout on the paper. It was almost like his friends, alive and well, were talking to him for the first time in 12 years.

The day Molly Weasley dies, the first thing she sees is a girl with red hair sprinting toward her. She panics, thinking it might be Ginny, but she sees startling green eyes and knows who it is immediately. Lily Potter pulls Mrs. Weasley into a hug and in a choked voice, whispers, “Thank you.”

Harry memorized every name of the 50 Fallen after the war ends. The day he dies, old and surrounded by his children, he repeats their names in his head like a mantra and begs for their forgiveness.

Eleven years later, at Hogwarts, students fill a corridor filled with portraits of those who died in the Battle of Hogwarts. They look for Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and other famous faces, but there’s a blue-haired first year in their midst, trying desperately to remember what his parents had looked like.

James Potter lost both of his parents at once. The news was delivered to him by Professor McGonagall with Sirius by his side, but James was in denial. He kept insisting that she was lying, and it wasn’t until Sirius broke down into tears that James knew, and it broke him.

Crookshanks was the Potters family cat mentioned in sirius' letter and escaped godrics hollow after Halloween and managed to find the magical menagerie. He found hermione and stayed with her because harry was only allowed hedwig and Ron already had scabbers. This is why he was especially angry towards Ron, due to smelling his masters betrayer on him, and didn't run away from sirius’ grim form.

Hedwig was a guardian angel. Hedwig is smarter than most owls and other animals in the magical world, often appearing to harry when he needs to write a letter. Female snow owls like hedwig are mostly white but they have grey marks and spots on their back wings, hedwig is portrayed as a white male snowy owl. White as an angelic being perhaps Perhaps? Perhaps hedwig was sent by his parents as a guard and friend to him, its why hedwig didn't want anyone else adopting her.

Dementors come from the death eater who were thrown into the Veil. Ever wonder why the veil of death is barley used? After the souls escape to the after life the bodies of those who enter become husks of their former selves, hungry for souls. Unmasked before thrown in with only the cloaks on their backs.

Four years after the Battle of Hogwarts, Molly Weasley was busy preparing food for Ron’s birthday. She mistakenly barked to George, “Get that chicken out of the oven, Fred!” George silently whispered, “Honestly, woman, you call yourself our mother?”

JK Rowling has revealed that Lily Potter was pregnant was her second child when she was killed. Even worse, she had convinced James to make Snape the godfather of the child.

At Luna’s wedding, the whole of the front seats were reserved. Harry went up to her at the end of service and asked, “Luna, who’s sitting there?” Luna smiled her usual smile and said, “Right. They did sit here in a spiritual way I suppose.” She pointed the seats one by one, “Right, that’s for my mother, those are for your parents, that one is for Sirius, that one is for Professor Lupin, that one is for Tonks, then Mad-Eye, then Fred Weasley, then Professor Dumbledore, and then Professor Snape. Right then, bye!” Harry had never felt so touched before.

The reason Bellatrix was so wretchedly insane and slavishly devoted to Voldemort was that she lived for the promise that one day, if she did enough, someone might say “I love you” back. I know that she doesn’t deserve this but for love… wow Bellatrix.

When Harry and Ginny went to search for a house to live in they found an apparently perfect house, Ginny loves it, but Harry rejects with a clear excuse about it being too big for them. Ginny doesn’t notice Harry’s fixed look on the Cupboard under the stairs.

Before the Horcrux hunt, Ron and Hermione decided, that if either of them had to choose between saving each other's lives or Harry’s, they had to choose Harry for the sake of the world. No matter how painful it would be for them to let go of each other.

Sirius and Remus saved memories for Harry. Remus left them for Harry in his will, when Harry got a hold of them he got to see a part of James he never got to see in Snape's memory.

After the battle of Hogwarts, Neville went to visit his parents to tell them about it. After he finished, his mother, who normally spoke nonsense, smiled and said one word: “Proud”

On November 3rd 1981, Sirius Black sat alone in a cell in Azkaban softly singing: “Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me, happy birthday dear Sirius...” whilst tears streamed down his face, wishing he could go back in time.

Mr. and Mrs. Potter, James and Sirius were out in public together one sunny afternoon. The elderly couple was talking to someone with that someone asking, “Oh, are these your sons?” Sirius turned beet red and becoming utterly flustered. Mr. Potter simply smiled and says, “Yes, they are.” With Mrs. Potter nodding proudly in agreement. Never once did they think to reply in any other way.

Harry as a preschooler drew two blond blots and a big black blot with a little black one standing a bit further away beside them with “My Family” scratched over the top and presented it to Uncle Vernon who ripped it apart and threw it away right in front of him.

When Harry and Ginny were married they moved to a house in Godric’s Hollow. After Lily was born and got older, she would visit her grandmother and namesake's grave everyday and leave lilies.

Harry Potter died at the ripe age of 101 surrounded by his loved ones, when he opened his eyes again he returned to the place he parted from his old mentor many years ago, but it wasn't Albus Dumbledore who greeted him at the station this time around. Standing a few feet away from him where a young couple patiently waiting for the son they were ripped away from so long ago to take him home and Harry Potter, the boy who lived, went gladly.

After the war, Minerva McGonagall went into a spiral of depression. It was brought on by watching so many students grow and die before her eyes.

At Ginny’s wedding she danced with George twice so it would feel like she was dancing with Fred.

After the second Wizarding War, everyone who died was given a chocolate frog card. When Teddy Lupin was on the train going to his first year of Hogwarts, he got the cards that had his parents on them, and it was like they were sending him off themselves.

These made me cry when I read them, I just can't :(

[freddie-weaselbee]

April Fools//F.W.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Silly pranks and a little angst, a tiny bit of small language

Summary: April 1st was a special day for many reasons, and it’s about to get a whole lot more special once Fred asks an important question.

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: Here’s a special fic for the twins birthday, as well as April Fools’ Day!  Fourth fic in Abby’s Week of Weasley. 

~Abby’s Week of Weasley Masterlist~   ~Masterlist~

Message me to join the taglist!

March 31, 1995

For the third time that night, Angelina Johnson rolled her eyes at you and hit you with her pillow. Hard. So hard that you ended up toppling off of your bed due to the excited, unbalanced position you were in, practically standing at the edge of your bed. 

“Angie!” you screamed from the floor, your smile cracking through the angry façade you were putting on. 

“Oh you deserved it Y/N!” your roommate yelled. “If I have to hear you talk about Fred for one more minute I swear...”

“I second that,” said Alicia Spinnet from her bed, rolling her eyes for the umpteenth time that night. “Just grow a pair and ask him out already!”

 “You’re crazy, absolutely insane,” you replied, climbing back onto your sheets only to be knocked down by your friend once again. 

 “Ok I swear I’m done now,” Angelina said through her giggles. “But Alicia’s right. It’s been two bloody years, why don’t you get up off your timid ass and actually do something? What could go wrong?”

 “What could go wrong?” 

 Alicia groaned at your incredulous tone, knowing exactly what Angelina had just started. She covered her ears with her pillow, hoping to drown out the next barrage of rapid fire words from your mouth.

 “Would you like the possibilities listed alphabetically or by order of significance?” you quipped, not giving either of the girls any time before you started again. “First of all, he would laugh at me. Then he’d realize how sad it was that I thought I actually had a chance with him and he’d make fun of me to the entire school. And you know that Fred can’t keep his damn mouth shut!”

 The girls murmured in agreement, knowing firsthand to never tell Fred any secrets unless they wanted the entire student body and population of England to know as well.

 “So he’d tell everyone,” you continued, “and they’d all make fun of me and talk about me behind my back. ‘Oh there goes poor Y/N, she’s so sad that she thought that the hottest guy in school would be interested in her! What a stupid stupid girl.’”

 “I personally think his brother is hotter, but to each his own,” Angelina murmured.

 “Bloody hell they’re identical twins, they’re practically the same,” said Alicia.

 “They’re not the same,” you and Angelina replied in sync, turning to each other and giggling before you finished your rant.

 “Anyways, the whole school would think I’m a moron, all of Fred’s family would think I’m a moron, and I’d probably be a laughing stock at The Burrow and I’d be too embarrassed to spend another summer there with everyone making fun of me! So that is why I will not be confessing my feelings any time soon.”

 Your friends just sighed and rubbed their temples, used to hearing this kind of talk from you. 

 “You know you’re hot as fuck, right?” said Alicia, gesturing up and down and seeming to check you out.

 “I know that,” you replied confidently. Something about being friends with Alicia and Angelina had brought out your confidence and you knew your self worth, but not when it came to the love of your life. “But there’s plenty of girls here who are hotter and haven’t had their hair held back by him while they threw up their guts into the toilet.”

 Alicia choked on the drink she was sipping, remembering that party a few months ago. “Yeah, remind us not to let you have firewhisky again you lightweight.”

 You tossed your pillow at her, making her spill her drink and grumble in your direction. 

 “Alright if you won’t tell him, why don’t you hint at it and hope for him to make a move?” Angelina suggested. “His birthday’s tomorrow, what did you get him?”

 “I, umm, I didn’t have that much money, so I had to be more... creative about it.” You pulled a sweater from one of your drawers, a deep purple color with orange stitching along the sleeves and collar. “Molly taught me how to knit over the summer and I’ve been working on this ever since. Do you think he’ll like it?”

 “That is the sweetest thing ever, Y/N,” said Angelina. “And Fred doesn’t care about money or wealth, I’m sure he’ll love it. Trust me, give him this and flirt with him all day tomorrow and I’m sure he’ll get the hint.”

 “He hasn’t gotten it yet, and I’ve done nothing but flirt all year!”

 “Then flirt harder,” said Alicia. “Give it all you have, and if it doesn’t work out then he’s a good for nothing prick. That’s how I live my life,” she said shrugging.

 “Great advice, thanks,” you drawled. “But alright, I’ll try harder. Tomorrow’s gonna be a day to remember!”

 ------------------------------

 April 1, 1995

 You and your roommates slowly snuck out of your room the next morning, being as quiet as humanly possible. On a normal day you wouldn’t bother to be this careful, but today was not a normal day. It was April 1st, the twins’ birthday. Also know as their favorite day of the year, April Fools’ Day. 

 Alicia stubbed her toe on one of the steps and let out a small peep, making you and Angelina turn to her in horror. Your cover was blown. 

 “Well, well, well,” came a voice from down the stairs. “What do we have here?”

 You shoved Angelina in front of you, clutching the back of her uniform for dear life. “You go,” you whispered. “You’re the strongest.”

 “No,” she said quickly, “Alicia’s the fastest, she can outrun them and cause a distraction!”

 “You know I wouldn’t even make it out of the common room,” Alicia replied. “Y/N can go first, she can talk them out of doing anything.”

 “Yeah, right,” you scoffed. “Like that’s ever worked before. I ended up going to bed to find a giant snake my sheets.”

 “Well, someone has to go first!” Angelina hissed. 

 The three of you continued your argument in low voices, none of you wanting to be the first to face Fred and George's wrath. You were so caught up in your conversation that you didn’t even notice the figure behind you until they cleared their throat.

 You all screamed and you tripped over Angelina, causing you all to tumble down the few last stairs. The second you made it to the bottom, you felt a warm, gooey liquid dripping down your head. Reaching your hand up to touch it, you saw that it was a green goop that was now covering you and your friends. 

 Laughter erupted from both sides of you. The person who had been standing behind you, who you now realized was George, was holding Colin Creevey’s camera and snapping a picture. Fred, standing practically over top of you, was doubled over clutching his stomach from laughing so hard.

 You sighed and looked down, already defeated. “Happy birthday, Freddie.”

 “I think you mean,” he said through giggles, “happy April Fools’ Day!”

 Angelina and Alicia were shooting daggers at the twins, who were still laughing and snapping photos.

 “This makes quite the pretty picture, doesn’t it Freddie?” George asked, showing him the camera.

 “Ah, yes it does! Y/N, you look beautiful as ever darling, even covered in goo.”

 You put your hands out, expected for him to help you stand up. Once he hoisted you to your feet you threw your arms around him, wiping as much substance as you could onto his clothes. 

 “Hey!” he said, trying to escape your death grip. 

 “What?” you asked innocently. “Can’t a girl hug her friend on his birthday?” You emphasized your words by grabbing some goo from your hair and reaching up to ruffle his, spreading it through his ginger locks. 

 “You’re a handful, love,” he said, finally giving up on escaping the revenge. 

 “But you can handle me, can’t you?” You winked at him and let him go, turning around to see George pinned to the ground by Angelina, face covered in green. 

 “I give, I give! I’m sorry!” She got off of him and offered him a hand up. You looked around at everyone to see that you all were a mess, covered head to two in Fred and George’s prank. 

 “Well,” said Alicia, “this is not how I wanted my morning to go, but I didn’t expect anything less. I’m gonna go get changed.”

 “Me too,” said Angelina and George nodded as well, heading to their respective dorms. 

 This left only you and Fred. Your heart started pounding. How were you supposed to flirt even more than you usually did? Were you supposed to make a move, maybe confess your feelings?

“I, umm, I have your present upstairs,” you said finally. “It’s not very good, but I can go grab it for you now if you’d like. After I’m clean that is.”

He bumped your shoulder with his, making your heart beat even faster. “I’m sure I’ll adore it, love. And actually, I was wondering if I could ask you something?”

“Yeah, of course, what is it?”

Fred avoided eye contact, fidgeting with his messy uniform. “Umm, why don’t we hang out today and I can tell you then. We could maybe, go on a picnic for lunch? You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

A large grin grew on your face, spreading slowly but surely. Maybe you didn’t have to be the one to make a move after all. “Of course I want to, Freddie! It’ll be fun.”

“Great!” he said relieved. “I’ll see you then.”

You nodded as he ran to catch up with George. As soon as he left the common room you nearly fell over, having to hold onto a wall to keep yourself up. You sprinted to your room, mind racing with exactly what you were going to wear this afternoon. 

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

“Hey, love,” Fred called from across the entrance hall. “You look great.”

You blushed a little, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and trying to subtly look him up and down. Fred had dressed a little nicer than usual for your picnic, which made you feel better about putting in so much effort yourself. 

He came over and grabbed your hand in his, linking your fingers together and pulling you out the door. You wished your hands weren’t so clammy, and you hoped that Fred couldn’t tell. 

He took you to a secluded part of the courtyard, the corner where most kids would go to make out. Was that what was happening? Did he want to kiss you?

Fred spread out a blanket and opened the picnic basket, containing both of your favorite foods. 

“Looks so good Freddie,” you said. “Snuck into the kitchen again, didn’t you?”

“What can I say,” he shrugged. “Guy’s gotta eat.”

“You said like Ron.”

“Don’t ever insult me like that again, woman, or I will never speak to you”

You rolled your eyes at him and leaned back on your elbows. “Having Fred Weasley actually leave me alone for five minutes? That would be absolutely horrible. What would I do, not being able to hear about your pranks and projects?”

He leaned forward to tickle your sides, making you flail around and kick him away. “You’d be so desperate for me back, you’d probably lock yourself in your room all day.”

“Oh I’m sure,” you replied, sarcasm dripping from your tongue. 

The two of you continued to eat and talk, mostly about his plans for his birthday and how he was going to terrorize his mum once he got home for the summer because he could now legally do magic outside of Hogwarts. After what felt like forever of laughing and rolling around on the blanket and grass, your curiosity was finally getting the best of you. 

“Alright Fred, enough’s enough,” you said, turning partly serious. “Why did you ask me out here with you?”

Fred got nervous once again, grabbing some more food to shove in his mouth to buy him some time before answering. 

“I’m waiting. What, you wanted to ask me out but got too nervous? Huh, is that it?” You were completely joking, but Fred didn’t seem to correct you. He just turned to you and gave you a small nod, shocking you to your core. 

“What?” you asked, needing clarification. 

“Uh, well, Y/N, there’s something important I need to say.” He looked jumpy and excitable, but there was also a cocky gleam in his eye, which was always present with the boy. “I’m madly in love with you. I have been since we were 15, and I just needed to let you know. I want to hold you and kiss you and grow old with you, my darling princess. Will you do me the honor of being my girlfriend?”

You sat there in complete surprise. This couldn’t be real, could it? Fred Weasley had loved you since you were 15? The tingles you always got when he said something to yo couldn’t compare to what you were feeling now.

Fred opened his mouth in a wide grin about to say something, when you cut him off with a hug. “Oh Freddie, you don’t understand how happy that makes me! I’ve loved you for forever, you’re perfect. Of course I’ll be your girlfriend.”

You held him tighter, burying your face in his neck and soaking in the feeling of being Fred’s girlfriend. But Fred had a completely different feeling running through him. 

He made eye contact with George, who was hiding in the bushes with his camera ready. He mouthed a question but Fred just shook his head in confusion. This wasn’t supposed to happen. 

You were supposed to laugh at him, become super uncomfortable. Fred knew that you only saw him as a friend and flirted with him jokingly. He’d never in a million years expect for you to confess your feelings back to him. 

He didn’t know what to do. You were just so open and vulnerable, confessing everything you’d been holding back. So, acting against George’s frantic suggestions, he completed the hug, resting his head on the top of yours.

What was he supposed to do? You were his best friend, he couldn’t bear to see you get hurt. How was he supposed to tell you, that this was all an April Fools?

Tag List: @famdomhideout @amourtentiaa

[kirain]

What's with that post? Dutch LOVES Hosea. They're literally gay. They held hands and raised two sons together. They're so extremely gay, respect it!

Two men: Showing affection

Tumblr: They're fucking!

...In all seriousness, I have absolutely no idea what I said or did to warrant this message, but I can only assume it's because I said in another post that Dutch doesn't respect Hosea? Which he doesn't?

They're supposed to be partners, but he certainly doesn't treat him like one. He doesn't listen to him, he yells at him when he's coughing or in pain, and he makes him sleep on the cold, hard, dirty ground. He even openly ignores him in Colter, in front of the other men, and rides off when he tries to stop him from robbing Cornwall's train. I'm not saying they don't have a rich history or good moments, but it's a toxic relationship at best. Not exactly something worth praising.

If you don't believe me, you can find unique dialogues as the game progresses, verifying he’s lost all faith in Dutch. To the point that he even starts telling other members to leave. Abigail, John, Arthur, Lenny, Tilly, Sadie -- he tells all of them to leave. During a dominoes game we played together he even said, "Maybe it's just me, but Dutch seems to be getting more and more unhinged." And as early as chapter one he told Arthur, "Try to stop Dutch getting all of you killed, because I'm about beginning to think he's finally lost his mind."

There are also other conversations where Hosea’s disappointment with Dutch is far more blatant. He basically tells Arthur he’s been disillusioned for a while and wishes the gang would change, but when Arthur asks what they’d do instead of thieving, Hosea says, “I don’t know. I never knew. Guess I could never figure that out, neither.” By this point he’s just so dejected and defeatist because he knows Dutch won’t listen to him. He also goes on a whole tirade about how they’ve become “nothing but a bunch of killers”, which breaks his heart, and during a random campfire encounter he bares his soul and flat out tells the gang he no longer believes in Dutch’s “we’re above the law” philosophy.

As for the whole "they're gay" thing? Ship whoever you want. I don't care (they're fictional characters, after all). But don't come onto my blog and demand that I "respect it", because I don't. In fact, I vehemently disagree with you.

First off, Hosea was very happily married and totally devoted to his wife Bessie. So much so that after she died, he was drunk and depressed for a year. He even tried to leave the gang once he married her, but he inevitably drifted back into the life of an outlaw when he failed to find adequate work. Keep that in mind, though -- he left the van der Linde gang. He left Dutch. During the hunting mission, Arthur even says, "I remember you were gone for a long while." But according to Hosea, Bessie supported and accepted his lifestyle, since at the time they were more of a community than a “gang”. They actually helped people, like a Robin Hood band of merry men.

Hosea talking about his wife:

"Since she was ... taken from me, I miss her every day. She's what I think about when I wake up, and what I'm still thinking about when I go to sleep. Confuses me. Confuses me to no end, how a wretched sinner like me could be given someone so perfect, so beautiful to take care of. For once in my wretched life, do my best. And then she dies ... and I live on. Well, at least for now. She’s been gone many years. All them years I was given and she was not, and we’re expected to believe in judgement? What kind of a judge would save me and take her? A foolish one I can’t respect anymore than I can respect myself! I miss her so--!” He pauses, nearly crying. “Forgive me for being so maudlin, but ... it’s a fact. I know we all of us seen more death than life these past few months, but ... well, sometimes the unfairness of it all confuses me.”

In addition, when asked who the two most important people in his life are, he mentions Bessie first, before Dutch. Arguably he's known Dutch longer and he’s still alive and active in his life, but Bessie always comes first. He also says he’s “ready to die” because he’s “ready to join her”.

Please don't disregard this. Hosea is an honest, loyal, loving husband. If it was just a matter of you insisting he's gay, I'd probably have less of a problem (because, sure, that can change for some people and maybe he's bi now), but pairing him with Dutch, when he's so wholly devoted to his wife, is just reprehensible in my opinion. Dutch isn’t a good man and he treats Hosea quite poorly.

Secondly, yes, you're partially right. Hosea did raise two kids with Dutch. Actually, he raised four. Arthur, John, Tilly, and Mary-Beth. They were all young teens when they joined, but Dutch and Hosea weren't the only "parents". Grimshaw and Bessie also helped raised them. Arthur even says Bessie taught him how to play dominoes and mentions that he misses her. So I don't really understand the correlation here. You don't have to be in a sexual/romantic relationship to raise kids. And keep in mind that the story takes place during a time when entire communities worked together to raise children. Ever heard the expression "it takes a village to raise a child"?

Overall, I'm simply not comfortable overlooking Hosea's marriage and Dutch's abuse. To put it into perspective, it'd be like writing a fic where Molly and Dutch are in a happy, healthy relationship, despite all the evidence to the contrary. I'm just not the type of person who's willing to change a character's entire personality and history in order to make them fit my personal narrative.

[believinghurts]

Their Daughter Pt 3

Warning: Arguing, insecurities, crying

A/N: I am planning on this being about six parts, but I’m not sure yet. Leave me some feed back! This also hasn’t been proofread so I apologize for that! Please don’t post my work anywhere else. 

The rest of the night before Ali left for Malfoy Manor passed slowly. She wrote her reply telling her aunt that she would be at Andromedas before she came to the Manor. Ali could hear the others moving around the house below her, but chose to stay in her room. After hearing her own father call her a snake she didn’t want to be at risk of getting called it again by him or anyone else. It was something she was used to at school, and often ignored, but hearing it from her own father hurt more than the others. She wasn’t a snake and just because she spent time with Slytherins it didn’t make her a bad person. She found it ironic that people in other houses say things about house unity and having friends from other houses, but none of them ever showed Slytherins much kindness apart from a few Hufflepuff's. Slytherins were misunderstood a lot and being sarcastic and rude was a defense mechanism for most of them was what Ali had learned from her time spent with them. Draco, for example, just wanted his father to be proud of him, while Daphne wanted to be seen as more than just her face and body. Everyone of the Slytherins has some sort of problem, they all realize this and that’s what makes them such good friends with one another. 

Ali shut her trunk lid before sitting on top of it blowing a piece of her dark hair from her face. She had packed a few things to take with her, though she already had quite a lot at the manor in her room. Draco told her to bring a swimsuit and leave the books in his letter, so she packed both. It had taken about an hour to pack everything she needed, so seeing as it was getting dark outside she looked at the clock. It was 6:00 meaning that it was almost time for dinner. She changed into a pair of black leggings before throwing a jumper on that somehow ended up being Blaise’s Quidditch jumper; it was always cold in the house even in the middle of summer. Shrugging she looked at her appearance in the mirror, she fixed her hair into a braid going down the side of her head before letting the growling of her stomach lead her downstairs. 

She noticed that all the noise seemed to be coming from the dining room so her plan of grabbing cookies and leaving was busted. From the sounds it seemed as though everyone was in there, but Regulus was so quiet she wasn’t sure if he was or not. Pausing she sent up a quick prayer hoping that Regulus, Remus or both would be in there. Conversations seemed to pause when she walked through the threshold. Sirius was talking with Harry and Ron, Molly was sitting with her husband and oldest two, Hermione and Ginny were looking at a book, Remus sat near Sirius looking thoughtful, while Regulus had his back to her talking with someone. He noticed some of the chatter had died down, he turned to see Ali and gave her a view of the person in front of him. 

Everyone’s mouths dropped when Ali took off faster than a snitch towards her Uncle Severus. She jumped on him, hugging him while he smiled at Regulus hugging his only niece back. “When did you get here? Why didn’t you come see me?” Ali pouted at her Uncle which caused him to shake his head, chuckling at her antics. 

“Regulus said you were probably packing for tomorrow and I did not want to interrupt. And as for when I got here it was about fifteen minutes or so,” He kissed her head before letting her step back. Severus bit back another smile when he noticed all his students and former students staring at him and his niece. “Isn’t there something else you could be looking at?” Directing his icy glare to Granger, Potter, and the youngest two Weasleys. Their heads whip down except Harry’s whose eyes went back and forth between Severus and Ali. Severus knew of the words Potter often said about Ali and the others in his house. Assuming that he was just going to keep staring at the two Severus turned his attention back to Regulus and Ali. “When do you leave for the manor?” 

Ali found it funny that her uncle had set the others in place, but she a;so got why they were looking. Severus was a private person; he wasn’t one for talking a lot or physical touch. Ali had only ever seen him hug one person and that was her. To everyone else he was a cold, rude Potions teacher, but to Ali he was her Uncle that brought her books, taught her Potions, and made the best tea in the world. She felt her fathers eyes on the back of her head, but pointedly chose to ignore him. “I leave tomorrow when Uncle Rem does.” 

“I still do not understand why you insist on going over there. They are not good company Alianova. Are you going to become like them? Become a Death Eater like Lucius and his son are? You were raised by one so it wouldn’t be a surprise,” Sirius sneered at his daughter. The look of disgust in his eyes hurt her more than the words. Ali knew that before Lucius was a Death Eater much like Regulus and Severus. But she also knew that they weren’t those people maymoer. Each of those men had decided that family was more important. It had taken a lot for Lucius to see that his ways were wrong, but the thought of harm coming to Draco, Narcissa or even Ali made him see differently. 

Ali’s blood boiled when sirius talked about her family like that. He didn’t have to like them, but she loved them and they loved her. He wasn’t there for her; they were. “They aren’t Death Eaters.” She stated firmly. 

“Aren’t Death Eaters? Are you draft? Draco may not be right now, but I know Lucius would never give up his ways. It’s only a matter of time before Draco is one as well. How old were you Regulus when you got the mark? Seventeen? Draco is almost there. Harry told me what he’s like in school, and what you're like. Stuck up, and prejudice just like the others. It’s honestly no wonder Harry doesn’t like you. Typical Black fashion to only hang out with Purebloods. You're going to end up just like Bellatrix I guarantee it if you stay hanging out with the Malfoys.”

“That is enough,” Regulus stepped in front of Ali. Everyone's eye bouncing between Ali, Regulus and Sirius. Ali felt tears brim in her eyes, and her breathing become heavier. Anger and hurt ran through her veins, battling one another. Sweat started to gather on her palms as she noticed the looks of pity coming from Molly, and Arthur after the shock of what Sirius had said wore off. Molly ushered everyone out of the room, Harry went reluctantly, beside Sirius, Remus, Severus, and Ali sensing that this was a private family matter. Remus stood, crossing the room to take Ali into his arms. She let out a shuddering breath before turning her attention back to Sirius and Regulus. “She has done absolutely nothing wrong to you or anyone for that matter. And you call her draft? Look in the mirror Sirius. She is your child for Godric's sake! Not Harry Potter. Ali is a good girl; she gets good grades, has manners, and above all she doesn’t care what peoples blood status is. You’re calling her prejudice? She is the least prejudiced person in this whole house. You have no say in anything that she does. None. You left her not just once, but twice. You can say that you didn’t know she was there all you want, but you know that anyone that had her wouldn’t have sent her anywhere else. You chose Harry Potter over her TWICE. And you never picked up the pieces; we did. Myself, Remus, Severus, Narcissa, Lucius, Ted, and Andromeda were all there for her when she was growing up. Remus taught her to read, Severus taught her how to make small potions on a potions kit, Cissa and Andy taught her took her shopping for girly clothes, Lucius taught her to ride a broom with Draco, and Ted took her to the candy shop everytime she got a good grade in school. What did you do? Nothing. If she wants to go and spend time with the people that helped raise her she can. You can’t blame her for how you're acting towards her. It’s like she doesn't even exist when Potter is around.” Regulus took a breath, turning to look at Ali who had tears running down her cheeks. His heart broke for his sweet little girl who deserved the world not this mess of a family. He pulled her to his chest, one hand stroking her hair the other tight around her back, rocking slightly to ease the sobs she was letting out. 

“That is not true. That is my daughter I love her,” Sirius started but was quickly interrupted by Remus. 

“You may love her sirius, but you don’t show it very well. Do you see what you've done? I love you Sirius, but this is wrong. Harry is your godchild, but she is your child. I think it’s best if you leave her alone for a bit,” Remus crouched down to be eye level with Ali, “Are you packed? I think it’ll be best if you go ahead and stay at Andy’s tonight.” 

Ali nodded her head before pressing a kiss to Regulus cheek whispering a love you and see you soon then doing the same to Severus who had Accio’d her trunk down the stairs. She wrapped her arm through Remus's, not even sparing a glance at the man who had caused her more pain the last couple of hours then in her whole life. Ali wanted her dad to love her like he loved Harry. She understood that she wasn’t a Gryffindor like him, but did that really make her so terrible? When she was little she had heard the stories of her father through her uncles, aunts, and a few teachers. She always thought that he was the coolest person to ever walk the corridors of Hogwarts. Often she would fanize what her life could have been like if James and Lily hadn’t died, her dad wasn’t in Azkaban, and her dad and Regulus got along. Would she be equal to Harry then? Would her dad still have favored Harry over her because she was a girl and a Ravenclaw? Those thoughts came to mind more times than she could count in the last couple weeks. 

She felt the tug of apparition in her belly for a few seconds before she landed on the Tonks’s doorstep. She felt the protection wards give easily around her as Remus gave her a one sided hug, kissing her head as she wiped her cheeks. Ali knew that once Remus knocked her Aunt Andy saw the state she was in with her puffy, red eyes, lounge clothes, and the fact that she was a day early Merlin wouldn’t be able to stop her from ripping Sirius into pieces. Remus waited till Ali nodded at him before knocking, he knew that someone would be home whether it was Andromeda, Ted, or Nymphadora. He silently hoped for the later two, but hope wasn’t on his side when Andromeda Tonks opened the door with her look of surprise turning into rage as she looked at Ali. Andy grabbed her nieces hand pulling her inside with Remus following before wrapping Ali in a hug that a mother would give her distraught child. Andromeda looked at Remus over Ali’s shoulder silently asking what had happened to which Remus mouthed out Sirius’s name. Andromeda was afraid of this when Sirius came back into their lives. She loved her cousin with all that was in her, but he was not good with priorities often not being able to sort them out even as children. Ali gripped tight at her aunt's waist knowing that she was finally going to be able to breath without having someone say something about it. 

Noise coming from the stairs caused Ali to look up. Nymphadora came bounding down only to stop when she saw her baby cousin's teary face and Remus gloomy look. She walked over to Remus standing on her tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek which made him blush and Ali giggle a little bit before wrapping her arm around Ali’s shoulders. “What’s up, pipsqueak?” 

Ali leaned her head onto Nymphadora’s shoulder taking in the smell of her lavender shampoo. “Not much. Mind some company for the night?” Ali was comfortable around Dora, they were like the sister neither of them got to have. Although Dora was seven years older than her, they were closer than just cousins. “Mind your company? Never. More like Dad and Mum should mind cause we are going to party it up!” Dora stated changing her hair to rainbow before poking Ali’s side to make her laugh. She knew her cousin well so she knew that they didn’t need to talk about whatever happened to make her cry. She would talk about it with who she felt fit and when she felt fit to do it. Dora knew that Remus and her mum as well as the others would take care of the issue, so all she had to worry about was making her baby cousin happy again. 

“Well I should get back home. Mainly to make sure that Regulus doesn’t murder Sirius, but if he did I wouldn’t mind too much right now,” Remus said walking to the two girls, kissing Ali’s head and Dora’s lips quickly. “Don’t cause too much trouble you two.” Remus loved the relationship that Ali had with Dora. It was often like watching his girlfriend and daughter together. Some said it was weird to be dating someone who was closer to your child's age then yours but he had learned to care a little less about people's opinions as time went on. He loved Dora and that wasn’t going to change and seeing her with Ali only made that love stronger.  Alianova was his daughter in every way, but blood. Remus gave Andromeda a nod before apparating back home in hopes that he wouldn’t have to hide a dead body. 

Once Remus left Dora guided Ali into the kitchen where Ted was cooking dinner still. “Hello darling, we weren’t expecting you till tomorrow.” He stepped away from the stove to give her a hug before the two girls hopped up onto the kitchen island while Andromeda leaned against the counter by her husband. 

“Yeah, I’m sorry about just showing up a day early. It was...just getting too much at home with everyone there and stuff..” Ali missed the way all the Tonks’s looked at each other since she was staring at the wringing fingers in her lap. 

“What happened, Nova?” Dora placed a hand on hers calming her fingers down. 

“Just Sirius got mad because I’m staying with Cissa for a week. He started saying some really mean things about them as well as said that I was going to become just like Bellatrix since I hung out with Death Eaters,” Ali sighed looking at Andromeda with tears in her eyes. “I just want him to love me. I don’t know why he can’t. I- I try so hard to make everyone proud of me, but he just hates me. What does Harry have that I don’t?” 

Dora wrapped her cousin up in a hug while Andromeda took her other side, “We are all so proud of you, sweetheart. There is absolutely nothing wrong with you. Sirius has always had his judgement clouded, especially when it comes to the Potters. You are so loved by so many people, don’t you ever forget that,” Her aunt whispered in her ear, kissing her cheek. Ali’s shoulders felt a little lighter that the thought of nothing being wrong with her, but with Sirius. 

“If he doesn’t quit being a tosser, I’ll hex him with the Boogie Bat Hex. We’ll see how he likes that.” Dora naturally had to make everyone laugh to ease the tension. 

Ted handed out a plates of spaghetti and everyone settled around the kitchen not even bothering to move to the dining room. Laughter filled the room as Nymphadora recalled a story about Mad Eye from a mission the other day. As darkness filled the sky everyone sat about the living room watching a Disney movie that Dora picked out. Ted and Andromeda sat on the couch cuddled up together while Ali and Dora shared the floor in front of them. Looking at her Aunt, Uncle and cousin, Ali couldn’t help but smile feeling content for a little while even if she missed her Uncle Regulus dearly the next couple of weeks. 

The following day….. 

It was late when Ali woke up. They had stayed up late the night before watching movies till Ted and Andromeda went to bed while her and Dora stayed up later talking. She felt the excitement coursing through her veins at the thought of seeing her other family that day. Knowing that Andromeda would be up soon to tell her about breakfast, Ali decided to write to Regulus before getting dressed. Grabbing parchment and a quill off the desk she settled in the window still and began.

Dear Uncle Reg, 

I hope everything is going better at home today then it was when I was there. I’m kinda sad we didn’t get to have a decent goodbye before I left. I’ll miss you the next week or so that I’m gone and I hope when I get back we can finish the movie series we were watching. Honestly you are a total Jedi, even if you say you aren’t. I leave for the Manor today so when you write back make sure to send it there. Oh, and can you feed Athena for me? I think I left my window open, but I’m not sure so sorry! Try not to murder anyone while I’m gone, and maybe come visit for a day or so just to get away from your brother. Hug Kreacher for me! 

Love your favorite niece, 

Al 

By the time she was done her Aunt was knocking on the door. “Good morning, darling. Breakfast is ready when you are.” Andy gave her niece a kiss on the head before straightening her bed, a habit she hoped to instil in the girls but it never took. “Dora already left with Remus, but they both said to tell you that they loved you and Dora said to not take any of her clothes when you leave, but if you do I won’t tell a soul.” Andromeda winked at her. 

“Okay, I’ll be down in a few minutes just let me get dressed.” Ali opened her trunk while Andromeda gave her some privacy. She dug through it to find a decent outfit knowing full and well that when she got to the Manor she would be going out with Cissa. She settled on a black and white plaid skirt with tights, white combat boots, and a black and blue Ravenclaw Quidditch tee that she had rolled the sleeves on. Throwing her hair in a messy half updo similar to Narcissa’s, she went down stairs. 

Her uncle had made pancakes and bacon for breakfast and she quickly settled in eating her weight in food before bidding goodbye to Andromeda and Ted using the Floo network to take her to the Manor. She didn’t use the Floo often since Grimmauld Place wasn’t set up for it per Moody’s request. Sputtering out a cough, Ali dusted off her clothes before she was wrapped up in the familiar rose scent perfume that Cissa wore. “Oh you're here! I have missed you so much darling.” 

Ali wrapped her arms around her aunt burying her face in her shoulder. Ali was closer to Narcissa then she was Andromeda. She loved her aunts equally, but since her and Draco were so close in age they spent a lot of time at each other's house. Narcissa had looked at Ali as a surrogate daughter whereas Andromeda had a daughter. Narcissa provided the motherly nurture that she needed in her life. “Okay, mother. Let her breath and give us a turn.” 

Ali could literally hear the eye roll in Draco's voice. Narcissa let her go, but not before cupping her face looking at her intensely. Narcissa was incredibly good at reading people and this was something she had done to Draco, Ali, and Dora since they were little to make sure they were okay. From the small frown on her face Ali knew that Cissa knew she was hurt. Cissa also knew they would talk about it later. Draco hugged Ali before spinning her around making her laugh. It was their ritual after a Slytherin won a Qudditch game and it extended to when they hadn’t seen each other in a while. Lastly Ali walked over to her Uncle who was looking at her outfit choice. She knew the words were bound to come out of his mouth in a couple of seconds much like they would Regulus’s if he saw what she had on. “Your skirt is too short Ali,” Lucius hugged his niece before raising an eyebrow at her. 

“Oh, Lucius, stop. It isn’t too short. She’s fine.” Narcissa grabbed her hand before calling their house elf to take Ali’s stuff to her room. “We were wanting to go to Diagon Alley, are you up for it? Lucius needs to get a few things, and we could get you and Draco some school things. But you would rather stay home. I'm sure Draco would keep you company.” 

“Please say you want to stay home,” Draco practically begged looking at his cousin. 

Ali’s smile held nothing by mischief as she looked between Draco and Cissa. She shot a wink at Draco, “I think I want to go. I haven’t been in ages.” Draco let out a huff which led him to receive a Narcissa scowl. 

“Wonderful!,” Narcissa ushered Draco and Ali to the fireplace, Draco grabbed some Floo powder before grabbing Ali’s hand, “Diagon Alley.” 

The pair were quickly followed by the elder Malfoys. Ali knew she needed to get a few books for the new school year so she dragged Draco with her to Flourish and Blotts, while Draco's family spoke with a wizard outside. The potions books were located in the back of the store, Draco started at one end while Ali at the other looking for their sixth year books. Giggles filled the aisle as Draco kept making jokes about the authors names, the two were so engrossed in their book hunting that they didn’t notice the three people standing next to them with amused looks. Ali had bent down to grab a book she would need for Arithmancy as she stood back up she felt a breath on the back of her neck, she quickly turned and nearly screamed when a face was only a few inches away from hers. “Boo!” 

Pansy, Blaise, and Draco were doubled over in laughter at the look on Ali’s face while Theo gave her an apologetic smile, “I cannot believe you just did that!” 

“I would say I’m sorry, but I’m really not,” Theo hugged Ali before stepping aside to speak with Draco. Ali was nearly knocked to the ground with the force of Pansy's hug. 

“Oh Merlin, I have missed you so much, Al. Honestly we cannot go this long without seeing each other anymore.” Pansy wrapped her arms around Ali’s shoulders while Ali went around her waist. Pansy and Ali became friends quickly on the Hogwarts express first year. They had sworn to each other that they would stay friends no matter the houses they got, luckily they both got houses that didn’t rival one another too much so they shared a dorm together more often than not with three other girls, but was only close with Daphne. Snape being the Head of Slytherin house Ali didn’t have to worry about getting into too much trouble if she was caught in the Slytherin girls dorms. Most people saw Pansy and thought she was a stuck up, rude princess, but Ali knew that she was really insecure and used sarcasm to hide it. Pansy was her best friend besides Draco and normally the two would have been at each other's houses over the summer, but with Sirius being out that couldn’t happen. The two were a perfect pair; where Ali was quiet, Pansy was loud, where Ali was the brains of the operations, Pansy was the executor. “I missed you, too. I am so sorry that I couldn’t hang out this summer. We had some family stuff going on.” 

Although the Weasley, Hermione, Harry and her family coud know of Sirius’s whereabouts no one else could until he was proven innocent. With Pettigrew being gone the likelihood of that happening right now was slim. Ali was just grateful that Draco knew so she could at least have someone to talk about it with. “Alright, alright, some of us would like to say hello too, Parkinson.” 

Pansy’s eyes portrayed a look that Ali would have to question her on later. Blaise was Ali’s other really close friend. He was quiet except when he was around his group, but even then he preferred to observe then join. Ali had always found him attractive, but she also knew he would never find her attractive when there were many more prettier girls than her. Blaise kissed her cheek before giving her a hug, “How has your summer been, Supernova?” 

Supernova had been the nickname he had given Ali upon first meeting her. He loved Astronomy, and said it just fit her. “It’s been good. Read a few books, spent some time with my Uncles. How was yours?” 

“Mother got married, again. So we are now onto husband number nine. What books did you read? I had been meaning to write to you, but mother had me busy with all the wedding stuff.” Blaise grabbed the book from her hand after turning it over and checking it out he tucked it in his arm. He was always the gentleman, carrying her bag, opening doors, pulling out chairs for her. She assumed it was instilled into him by his mother since Draco often did the same for Pansy. 

“Snape got me a Muggle set of books I had been wanting so I’m halfway done with those, and I read a few books on dragons. Ya know boring stuff. How’d the wedding go? Do you like him?” Ali twisted the gold ring on her finger causing it to catch Blaise's attention. 

“Not boring at all. If you still have the dragon books can I borrow them? You usually pick really good ones and I'll need all the knowledge I can to compete with you on scores.” He grabbed Ali’s ringed hand, inspecting it before letting it fall back down to her side. “That’s a nice ring, where’d you get it?” 

The ring in question was dainty with a gold band and light green gem surrounded by littler stones. “Oh, my Uncle Reg got it for me when school ended. Said it was for getting such good scores on my OWLs. I think he just thought it was pretty, but needed a reason to get it for me.” 

“Oi! Lovebirds, let's go check out these books so we can get on with our lives. I’m dying from watching that lovely scene you put on for us,” Theo said laughing while Draco smirked at his cousin. He knew that Ali had a crush on Blaise and that Blaise had a crush on Ali, but both would not admit to one another. 

“Oh shut it, Nott. You’re just jealous she likes me more.” Blaise sent her a wink before walking towards the front of the store with Draco. Ali knew he would be paying for her books and that he wouldn’t take no for an answer. Theo was distracted talking to Pansy so Ali decided to have a little payback for the teasing he just did. She pulled her skirt down a little to make it a little longer, before jumping up onto Theos back. Theo, having noticed that Ali was going to do just that, caught her around her knees helping her get settled before walking out of the shop. Pansy talked about her summer so far, stating that she would rather be back at Hogwarts then sitting at home doing nothing. Blaise raised an eyebrow at Ali's position before shaking his head at his friend's antics. 

“Ya know being up this high is super weird,” Ali’s comment caused all her friends to laugh. 

“That’s because you are super small,” Draco replied with an eye roll. Ali was the shortest out of the friend group by an inch or so and they never let her live it down. Outside the shop Narcissa and Lucius were talking with Theodore's father and Pansy's mother. 

“Find what you were looking for?” Lucius asked when they reached the parents. “Yes, father, we did as well as a few strays to bring with us.” 

The comment earned giggles and chuckles from the parents and Ali while Blaise whacked the top of Draco's head and Theo pretended to let Ali slip making her squeal in response and hop down off his back. “Draco don’t you need new Quidditch gloves?” 

Pansy and Ali shared a look while rolling their eyes. All three boys were members of the Quidditch team and while Pansy and Ali enjoyed watching them play, it was tiring hearing them talk about it constantly. The boys looked at each other nodding before Blaise and Draco grabbed Ali and Pansy's hands pulling them to the shop. Before they got out of range Ali stopped and looked back at Narcissa, “We are going to get ice cream after this if that’s okay?” 

“That’s fine darling. Lucius and I will go and get your robes, then head back to the Manor. Bring your friends along with you home. We are all having dinner together tonight. And make sure the boys pay for the ice cream.” Cissa sent her a wink before walking away with Pansy mother. 

[rainydayhogwartsimagines]

Can i make a request pleaseeee. If you are accepting them ? I neeeeeeed a fred is y/n bff and spend summer at the burrow. Him and y/n realize they are in love with each other at bill and fleurs wedding? Please and thank you.

I just wanna say my requests are always open dearies!

Set in a non voldy au

You and Fred had been inseparable since your second year. You absolutely adored hanging out with him and his brother. You never felt ignored or alone with him or George. They made you genuinely feel safe and happy. Fred and you had this closer connection though. Why that was the case, no one was quite sure. But it was becoming obvious that you two were closer in a more romantic capacity. A new way to tell George from Fred was how you were standing next to the other twin. If you were standing next to Fred, you'd almost lean on him, he'd be smiling and whispering things to you that would make you laugh. If you were standing next to George you would be standing directly next to him and almost mirroring some of his movements unintentionally. It was clear you guys spent a LOT of time together.

You spent every summer with this family, Molly was like a second mother to you and Arthur being a second father. They noticed the relationship forming with Fred and you though after one day you were downstairs, reading on the couch and Fred snuck up on you, tickling your sides and making you squeal and somehow ended with you on top of him and laughing before falling off the couch.

You two were so in love and it was so obvious to literally everyone but you two. You ended up working with the twins after graduation, being their numbers girl. You usually ordered more stock or just took down numbers and sale records while Fred tended to other people. Today though, the shop was closed for a special occasion. Fred and George's brother was getting married. You of course were invited because literally all of the Weasleys saw you as family (even Percy's tight ass could see you as a sister). You actually were a bridesmaid, seeing as you and Fleur were good friends when she was at hogwarts. You had your hair in this side bun, a grey dress that went a little below the knee and heels that HURT YOUR GOD DAMN FEET. "I swear heels are torture devices in disguise." You grumbled. "You look good in them though." Ginny said, zipping the back of your dress. "Seen the boys yet?" Hermione asked as she helped Fleur with her hair. "No, not yet. Why?" Ginny asked. "Ron keeps complaining about being in a tux, it's hysterical." Hermione snorted. You laughed and shook your head. "Although I think a certain boy is excited to see youuu." Fleur said poking your arm and making you blush. "Fred has been strangely aware of the time and when this is supposed to start" Ginny said. "It's like he's counting down the seconds to see you." Hermione teased. "To be fair, Bill is doing the same thing." Ginny added. "I seriously love you two together." You said to Fleur. "Thank you." She chuckled. "you know who would be even better?" Fleur asked. "Who?" You asked. "You and Fred." All of the girls said in unison. "Not this again." You sighed. "Yes, this again! You two are literally made for each other! Why haven't you said anything?" Ginny asked. "Because if he doesn't feel the same way that could make our friendship weird. He's my best friend and I don't want to ruin anything." You sighed. "Still... Y/n you've carried a torch for him for so long I'm surprised you're not ON FIRE." Hermione said. "Can we just change the subject away from my love life please?" You whined. "Yes because Fleur is on in five seconds, let's roll." Ginny nodded.

You and the girls walked out first, Fred being practically glued to you. You couldn't stop looking at him either... He did look REALLY good in a suit to be honest. You watched your friends get married and smiled, Fred falling even harder because of the twinkling look in your eyes when you smiled. You all were smiling at the couple as they danced and you sat down, taking off your shoes. "That's not very proper." Fred teased. "Okay, these things are death traps, fuck you." You laughed. He smiled and watched Ron and Hermione dance with Bill and Fleur. "...Want to dance?" He asked. "Can I keep my shoes off?" You asked. He chuckled and nodded before you took his hand. He pulled you close and Hermione smirked. "So... You look great." You complimented. "thanks... You look beautiful." He said. You smiled and then winced. "I forgot to order more plant feed--" "Let's not worry about work right now... Okay?" Fred said. You nodded as his eyes seemed so... Focused on you. God this boy knew how to make you feel like the only girl in the world. You rested your head on his chest, swaying to the slow beat of the band.

You wished you weren't so afraid of change sometimes. That way you could fearlessly charge into it and admit your feelings. Instead though, you were silently seething at yourself for being so damn scared all of the time. Fred was doing a similar thing, thinking to himself that he was a fucking moron right now. This was the perfect opportunity to say something like "Hey Y/n, I really like you and I have since we were thirteen." But no. Instead his lanky ass was panicking internally as he held you close. He swore his brother was almost purposefully keeping the slow songs coming for this. Which he would be right because Bill was waiting for Fred to ACTUALLY TELL YOU.

You looked up at Fred and saw the perplexed expression on his face. "Hey... What's going on in that head pretty boy?" You asked. Christ are you trying to kill this boy? "Just thinkin." He shrugged. Damn it man, sAY SOMETHING. "About?" You asked. "The future... What do you want in the future?" He asked. You pondered. "Hmmm... I'd like to be married... Settle down... Keep working at the shop. Be happy... What about you?" You asked. "I think the same things actually." Fred said. "Oh?" You asked. "Yeah. I'd like to be married... If the right person..." He cleared his throat. "Right." You nodded. "Think you'll meet the right person?" You asked. "...I think I've already met them." Fred admitted. Yes, see that's a good step. "Really? Who?" You asked curiously. Shit. "Well she's beautiful." He said. "That's good. Is she nice?" You asked. "Oh she's a cocky little thing but yes she's very nice." Fred chuckled. "is she here?" You asked. "Yep" how long are you going to play this game Fred? "Cool! Can I meet her, she sounds great" you said. Truth be told your heart was dropping as you spoke... But you loved Fred so you were trying to be supportive. "Depends. Can we find a mirror around here?" He asked. "What?" You asked. "How-- wait-- Wha-- What!?" You sputtered. "Y/n.. I love you... And I've been in love with you since we were in our third year." Fred said. You swallowed hard and stopped moving. "Did I mess this up? I feel like I messed this up-- You know what, forget I said anything--" you said nothing, swallowing your fears down and pulling him down by his tie, kissing him making Bill and Fleur literally freeze in place. Fred took a moment to register what exactly was happening but cupped your cheeks and kissed you back once he realized "BRO THIS IS ACTUALLY HAPPENING"

Molly smiled as did Arthur and you finally pulled away. "I have been waiting to do that since I was in my third year." You breathed. "Well I'm here now... No time like the present to make up for lost time." He joked. "Fred." "hmm?" "People are staring." You said. Fred looked around and George was giving him two thumbs up making you snort. "IT'S. ABOUT. TIME." Bill said. You both turned to the man. "SERIOUSLY. WE HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR FIVE YEARS. " Ron agreed. You snorted and started laughing making Fred smile and pull you back into his arms.

Fred and you never separated from each other that night. He was always dancing with you, walking around with his arm around you or sitting with his arm you whispering sweet little things in your ear like "I'm so glad you feel the same" "I love you and I want you to really know that Y/n." Or your personal favorite "I promise you darling, when the time comes for us you are going to be mine forever."

He never let you go that night... In fact he'd never let you go ever again

[captainsimagines]

Titanic || H.S

Part Five || “No Me Queda Mas”

Disclaimer: I do not own the pictures I use for title cards. Obviously. 

Warnings: This book contains mature themes and discussions, such as gun violence, emotional and physical abuse, attempted suicide, mentions of blood, character deaths, heavy sexual content, and reference to the real maritime disaster of the 1912 cruise liner Titanic.

“Exactly. But if you jump, I’m gonna have to jump in there after you.“

         Both Harry and Drake were up by seven in the morning, energetic and absolutely starving. They made sure to dress as quietly as they could, careful not to wake their other two roommates. They were men of the same age, around their late twenties, heading to the states to escape religious persecution. They had arrived later that day after they had picked up the remaining passengers from Ireland, both men talkative and equally as excited to start a new life. The four men chatted into the deep hours of the night and discussed a variety of topics. Perhaps the funnest topic they covered was women.

The two men were traveling with their girlfriends and since they were not legally married, they had to bunk in separate living quarters. Except their boyfriends had splurged what money they could to give them the best comfort as possible, and Harry learned their girlfriends were staying as second-class passengers. Drake made the joke about how first and second class weren’t all that different, and that these boys were living every poor man’s dream of being with a woman of practical royalty.

“They scream louder than any woman.”

“What do you mean?” Harry questioned.

“I mean,” Drake nudged his shoulder playfully, “they’re so touch-deprived that they practically melt from any man’s touch.”

“Man, shut the hell up!”

Everyone continued to joke and tease, and Harry wondered if that was indeed true. He had only been with two other women before - his first when he was seventeen and a woman he thought he loved at the age of twenty-four. He prided himself on the noises he caused, but he didn’t quite understand what Drake meant. Did upper-class women really not experience pleasure as often as women in love? Did upper-class women even fall in love? Do upper-class men not know how to perform? He understood the point of the joke, and although slightly misogynistic, Harry pondered on the societal gossip that sometimes proved true. It wasn’t like he was ever going to experience it to compare.

He and Drake tip-toed outside their room and locked it behind them. Breakfast was available until ten, but they wanted first dibs on the freshest stuff there.

It was a buffet style breakfast. They stacked their trays up high, first come - first serve, with buttered bread, sugar cookies, chicken noodle soup, and milk.

“They’re holding out on us. I saw them lugging buckets of grapes and strawberries up to first-class.”

Harry chuckled and sipped his milk, “Because they’re first-class.”

“Either way, this bread is delicious.”

And over breakfast they chatted about their past trips, skills, family, and aspirations. If it was possible, Drake spoke more than Harry. Once a conversation reached its end, Drake would easily glide into a new one. It was quite refreshing to speak to someone who didn’t shut you down or didn’t know how to carry a conversation. Harry paused Drake, however, when he mentioned that he was a trained carpenter.

“You build things?”

“Buildings. I build buildings.”

Harry shoved him, “That’s what I meant!”

Drake laughed along, “Yeah, my father was a carpenter. I built my Montana ranch from the ground up with my own two hands.”

Harry felt like meeting Drake was fate. Now he didn’t have to grovel and beg some New York carpenter to oversee the construction of a London business. If Drake agreed to help Harry build his bakery, he would at least trust the process more. A few sips of soup and some sugar cookies later and Harry considered Drake a closer friend than those he met on the playground.

“I have a proposition.”

“Well, Mr. Capitalist, I’m all ears.”

Harry grinned, “Would you like to help me build my family’s bakery? I would pay you generously and provide you housing during your extended stay in New York.”

Drake mimicked the act of deep thought, leaning forward and swishing around his cup of milk. “Hmm, a generous offer.”

“Or do you have to be back in Montana immediately?”

Please don’t. Please don’t. Please don’t.

“My brother has the ranch covered. I can write to him and let him know I’ll be bringing in a little extra cash.”

Harry jumped in his seat like an excited child, “Is that a ‘yes’?”

Drake chuckled and tried not to spill his milk as Harry shook his shoulders excitedly.

Drake was around five years older than Harry, thirty-two and thriving, so it made sense that he had this feeling of being an older brother to Harry. He was actually the youngest of his siblings, having older brothers at his side since birth. It was a blessing, and in a weird twist of plot, he felt like an attentive older brother sat here at breakfast. The way Harry’s bright smile lit up any room and the way he acted as if everything happened for a reason - he was almost tempted to give this kid the rest of his sugar cookies.

“Sure, man. I trust you’ll pay me.”

Harry nodded and while overflowing with joy, he slid his sketchbook in front of Drake and began reviewing the first couple sketches of the type of building he had in mind.

     You had been kept up late by your mother’s final walk-through of your stay room, complaining there were not enough towels and not enough space for your accessories on the bedside table. She acknowledged the vastness of the ship and its wonderful hospitality, but there was always something wrong in her mind. And all you could do was nod your head as you sat impatiently in the side chair as she worked the midnight crew through each fix.

So excuse your slow responses and tiny yawns at breakfast. The tables were beginning to clear out, with many still entering for early tea or a late meal. The breeze passed through the open doors and nipped at your cheeks, waking you up slightly from the boring chatter.

As the others spoke, you couldn’t help but think about yesterday and what weird a kiss you and Cal had shared. Was it supposed to feel good? You knew Cal had other women before as he was turning thirty-six just a week after your scheduled wedding. He was never so playful, especially not in front of waiting staff, so you pondered what that change in attitude could possibly mean. Or perhaps you were thinking too much, and he really just had a lapse in judgement.

You could make out talk about the weather, America’s current stock market, and ideas about what the cooks were going to prepare later today. Speak on topics that never interested you and never will interest you carried on for a few more minutes before everyone began ordering their second course. You pulled a cigarette and its holder from your handbag, expertly placed the cigarette inside the silver and inhaled the cooled, mellowed smoke. It woke you up instantly, also calming any nerves from the night before.

You didn’t like when Cal smoked and dusted your flooring, but the presence of a holder made all the difference. No mess, no stains on your fingers - just tranquility.

Your mother cleared her throat quietly as to only alert you, watching the other occupants of your table carry on with their conversation. She unfolded her napkin and placed it carefully across her lap. “You know I don’t like when you do that in public.”

Instead of rolling your eyes at her absurd worry, you inhaled the smoke deeply and exhaled across her view, clouding her face in your personal stress release. It was a power move, a move that you were allowed to execute since she was in control of literally every other aspect of your life. A little smoke shouldn’t anger her as much as it did, but any ounce of independence you still displayed could be interpreted as plain disobedience. And disobedience of your own family meant it resulted in disobedience within a marriage. But before you could establish dominance in one area of your life - your own body - Cal reached over to pull the cigarette from its holder and extinguished it on one of the side plates. You narrowed your eyes, ashamed of the control he proved he had.

“She knows,” Cal chuckled, ignoring your look of embarrassment and instead calling over the waiter who was making his rounds.

A woman you had met briefly yesterday as she boarded from Ireland, Molly, was invited to sit at your breakfast table by one of the men here, yet you couldn’t remember which one. She was a small woman, dressed in a comfortable dress that didn’t quite match the occasion of a late breakfast, but she wore it proudly. She was sweet, strong-willed, and almost always proved louder than anyone else in the room. You liked her personality as it was entirely different from everyone else you had ever met. Although your mother called her “new money” with a nasty grimace on her face, you only saw her for what she was - independent and vocal.

But here you were now, being dehumanized in front of practical strangers, and you looked up to see Molly’s surprised expression. She lowered her arm to extinguish her own cigarette on her ashtray. To continue smoking freely after you had been refused your tiny refuge seemed wrong, improper even. But you didn’t acknowledge her action, ears perking up as Cal restated your breakfast order.

“We’ll both have the lamb, rare, with very little mint sauce.”

You absolutely hated lamb. Any type of meat, really, and the thought of having to stuff it down so you wouldn’t starve maddened you.

“You like lamb, right Sweetpea?”

You plastered a thin, wide smile as you turned to your fiancé, your face almost comical and proving so as Cal took it as a real ‘yes’.

By now your little squabble had gained attention from all at your table. Molly began laughing loudly to cut through the tension, raising her water glass to take a quick sip.

“You gonna cut and chew her meat there too, huh Cal?”

Your mother turned to her sharply but Molly was unmoved, deciding to change the subject to something more interesting. Cal interlocked his fingers together and rested his hands above his belt buckle, looking across the table at Molly with a more calm look compared to your mother, but still hardened with displeasure.

“Say, who thought of the name ‘Titanic’? Was it you, Bruce?” Molly asked.

Bruce Ismay, the chairman of the White Star Line, seemed ecstatic to receive questions about the ship. As of that month, it was his greatest accomplishment and current world wonder, his newborn creation that deserved any and all praise given. He nodded happily and swallowed the piece of fruit hurriedly to answer Molly’s question.

“Yes, yes,” he answered, cleaning his mouth with a napkin. “Mr. Andrews here built her from the ground up!”

Thomas Andrews, a shipbuilder and main architect for Titanic, was shy with any compliment he received, deciding to accept the praise quickly and return the attention back to Ismay. “But the idea was all Mr. Ismay’s! He envisioned a liner so grand in scale...”

You began to drown the conversation out. Cal insisted on dining with specific groups of people. From your point of view, it worked almost like a ranking. Ismay and Andrews were certainly important people on this ship and had first hand experience with such social circles, but they were no John Jacob Astor. The most Cal and your mother did was share morning greetings with Astor, who dined with his wife in a more private section of the same dining hall. Cal had always maintained your titles of royalty, saying that only a few dollars here and there separated you from a higher connection. And at dinner time your group expanded, including around ten others who were just as respectable.

“I wanted to convey sheer size with her name! And size means stability, luxury, and above all, strength,” Ismay spoke.

You sucked in a low breath, ready to make a select few laugh and others seethe. “Do you know of Dr. Freud, Mr. Ismay?”

Mr. Ismay turned to you in silent astonishment, surprised by the first complete sentence you had spoken all breakfast. But he smiled and shook his head ‘no’ at the name. You felt your mother reach her hand under the table to cup your arm.

“His opinion about the male preoccupation with size might be of particular interest to you.”

Your mother’s fingernails dug deep into your forearm. “What has gotten into you?”

But Molly and Mr. Andrews enjoyed your comment, laughing under their breaths.

You smiled sweetly and tore your arm away from your mother, standing and excusing yourself from the table. Both Mr. Ismay and Mr. Andrews stood out of respect for your departure. You exited the room to walk out on deck.

Cal took in slow breaths to steady his rising anger, avoiding other’s eyes so that they wouldn’t notice the effect you had on him. But Molly, with her rapid wit and steady toughness, wouldn’t let Cal live this down.

“She’s a pistol, Cal. Hope you can handle her!”

Cal crinkled his eyes and chuckled as to brush off your misbehavior. “I might just have to mind what she reads from now on, don’t I?”

Mr. Ismay sat down and readjusted his tie. “Freud, who is he? Is he a passenger?”

     It was bullshit that third-class passengers were barred from touring certain areas of the ship. All Harry wanted was a better view of the ship’s structure so he could outline it. He mainly drew portraits but he had promised his mother he would show her his drawings of the best parts of the ship, like the grand staircase, fashion, the giant steam funnels, even the food. But third-class passengers weren’t allowed in first-class areas without the proper approval, having to eat from a choice of about four foods each day and reduced to simply imagining what the giant clock looked like.

So Harry doodled anything he found interesting - the dogs who traveled down to third-class to take a shit, the coast of Ireland as Titanic sailed past, and third-class passengers with their children, card games, and instruments. He was currently drawing a man holding his daughter up against the railing to see the water, focusing on the detail of their clothing and their happy expressions. Drake watched Harry work his magic, grinning every single time Harry drew the next precise detail accurately. It wasn’t exactly common knowledge, but Drake swore that every human wanted to have this specific talent. Anyone who disagreed wasn’t human.

“I can’t believe you got the eyes right,” Drake scoffed, inhaling smoke from his reduced cigarette.

Harry grinned at the comment, smudging the charcoal over the two foreheads to create the shading. Looking from the models to his paper, he completed another detail that impressed his friend. He was almost finished, brushing his index finger over certain parts. Drake greeted some friends he met at last night’s dinner as they walked past and rested in the surrounding benches. He motioned them over to Harry’s work.

Drake nodded in approval at all the compliments Harry received, “Do you make any money off your drawings?”

It’s quite possibly every artist’s worst nightmare, to scribble incorrectly over a good drawing, completely ruining the fine detail it took too long to accomplish. But as Harry’s pencil scraped over that crumpled piece of paper, the air around him and the water under him spoke to his artistic desires, telling him to wreak havoc on his flimsy sheet and to never stop. The somewhat endless black line did indeed stop once it reached the edge and to the fabric of his tan pants, leaving a light but visible charcoal mesh on his only pair. His eyes, as well as his clouded mind, ignored his major mistake and instead focused on the yellow fabric that begged to flap higher in the cool, ocean breeze.

His eyes traveled through every detail- the white lace clinging to the base yellow, the pearls hugging your waistline and wrapping around your backside to function as buttons, the baroque beauty of your neck and the lace wrapped around it, your brown skin glistening underneath the sun, and your red lips sculpted into a memorable pout - all of it entered Harry’s viewpoint in what seemed like forever but only took a mere second. One glorious second for Harry to stumble into a world he knew he could never abandon. The curl in your hair, the frown on your face, the gentle nature of your grip on the forbidden first-class railing - all of it a disastrous craving that would for sure develop into a blister on the lip if Harry didn’t get a smell of your lavish locks and accidentally brush the tip of his nose against the priceless diamonds draped through each curl, or get a taste of the red syrup staining your plump lips and accidentally bite it a little too hard to muster a moan of pleasure rich women kill to produce, or get to feel the touch of your fingertips against his palms, his face, his chest, his back as you left streaks of bright red. These prohibited images knocked against the padded confines of his thick skull and he felt like he completely violated the law with such an absurd idea.

But as you furrowed your eyebrows and focused on another focal point - Harry himself - he felt as if every inch of your being was worth being imprisoned for. His forbidden sweet creature.

You stared at the stranger briefly before looking back at the waves beyond the bow of the ship. Yet, you continued to feel his powerful gaze. You didn’t feel uncomfortable with his locked stare, but you wondered if he was possessed, spiraling through a trance that you had become a victim of. Was his gaze good or bad? Was he seriously entranced or judging your physique? Walking away would break the spell, but you stayed glued to the railing for some reason, watching the waves make way for Titanic’s many entrances.

You heard the voice in your head instruct your view to stay on the water, but you disobeyed for once, unaware of such a lovely decision until you locked eyes with your third-class admirer. You have always gotten attention from anyone you encountered, both pleasant and unpleasant, but attention nonetheless. And the waves of this particular admiration traveled through the misty breeze and onto your blushed cheeks, pinching them with a silent yelp, a plea, an almost beggarly request for your consideration. So you obliged its want, gazing across the third-class gatherings to the man sitting on one of the few benches on deck, surrounded by confused and teasing passengers who looked between you and him, wondering if you were going to break first from the rare situation. A situation that many never considered legitimate, possible, or even appropriate. But the lot of you were on the blue waves and the bubbly foam and the impressive craft of a thousand good Irishmen that welcomed the rare and extraordinary.

He was attractive - his short hair dancing in the air one curl at a time, his broad form rising to sit up straight when he realized you were also admiring him, and his eyes never blinking as to not miss anything you might do. And he had this magnetic pull, almost as if he was screaming at you to come down and speak with him. You felt somewhat disgusted with yourself, imagining a normal conversation with a normal person, a very handsome person, whose gaze alone made you feel a tingle at your fingertips and caused a tiny grin to break on your face. It wasn’t appropriate to be thinking of another man this way when you had never felt this way for the man you were to marry. And yesterday’s kiss did not equate to the powerful senses you were currently experiencing.

You hoped he didn’t see your grin, but Harry did. He caught it instantly, his heart pounding and his hands instructing him to quickly sketch the curve.

By now Drake was waving a hand over Harry’s face to see if that broke off his view, but Harry simply leaned forward, unaware of the obstruction and oh so enchanted by that tiny grin you hadn’t dropped.

“Oh, forget it, Harry! It’s like angels flying out your ass to get next to the likes of her.”

To be seen, thought of, recognized as a human being and not glossed over as some extra - the recognition of plain existence excited you to new extremes. And just as your mind told you to unlock the first-class gate and venture over to your admirer, real life interrupted in the form of Cal’s tamed grip on your upper arm.

You dropped your gaze quickly, hoping Cal did not realize your original viewpoint, and looked down at the unwanted physical connection between you.

"Why must you defy your mother’s orders and misbehave in front of friends?”

You pulled yourself away from his tightening grip. “I have already received this lecture from my own mother. I do not need to hear it again.”

Cal let out a low chuckle, “Then why must you not listen? You embarrassed me.”

You fought the urge to yell and relay yet another disapproving tone. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I’m not feeling well this morning.”

And with that fake apology, Cal hummed in sympathy and tugged you in for a short hug. “Why didn’t you just say so? It could have saved us the humiliation.”

You sucked in a harsh breath at his choice of words to avoid the frustrated tears, pulling away and patting his chest as you excused yourself to your stay room. He groaned as he suspected he had done something else wrong, but did not dare to follow you this time.

Drake shook his head in discontent, “A man like that should be grateful to have a woman like her.”

Other passengers shared their agreement, whistling and all. They teased Harry and shoved him playfully, congratulating him for the impossible. And as you walked from Harry’s eyesight back into the ship, he rejoined the conversation briefly before he began a simple illustration of your eyes.

Drake sat back down on the same bench as Harry as all the chatter died down, looking over at Harry’s paper. He rolled his eyes and smiled.

“She really did a number on you, huh? I’m all for going after the unreachable but this is truly unreachable, boy-yo.”

Harry stopped his tracing to look up at Drake, “I know… but she saw me, too.”

Drake furrowed his eyebrows, wondering if Harry was simply awestruck or serious. And with a slight chuckle of disbelief, Drake muttered, “that she did.”

A moment passed before Drake spoke again, deciding on letting Harry live in his little fantasy for the rest of the day. He tapped Harry’s stack of papers with his index finger. “I’m sure you’ll do her justice.”

And Harry did.

     If you stood in the middle of the room and screamed at the top of your lungs, you were certain no one would even look up. Because besides your impressive attitude you were known for, your problems seemed minuscule compared to others. No one seemed to piece together why you were the way you were, opting for society’s sexist explanations instead of simply asking you.

Just a few hours ago you were seen and not looked over quickly - you felt appreciated and noticed. Now, even in a room with hundreds of people and many sat at the same table as you, you weren’t even acknowledged. Perhaps it was because you never spoke - you couldn’t blame them for not noticing you then. But then again, when you did speak and Cal silenced or interrupted you, discrediting even opinions, no one minded.

They were the same endless parties, the same narrow people, and the same mindless chatter. Like they flipped a switch each night and wiped their slate clean, ready for the same routine the very next day with no complaints at all. And it frightened you that this would remain your routine, the same routine you had already lived for twenty-two years, with no way out and no ‘off’ button.

You felt as if you were floating away, heavy and lightweight at the same time, feeling yourself blink every few minutes. Your eyes focused on one point - the ashtray in the middle of the rounded table, even as people from surrounding tables came to greet your mother and Cal. You kept track of time by the impressive height of the gray ash, some landing outside the tray and onto plates. It grew higher… and higher… and your food was barely picked at, Cal was reaching over you every so often to tap his cigarette on the tray, and your mother was on her fourth glass of champagne.

They didn’t see that you weren’t eating. How does someone not notice that someone isn’t eating at a dinner?

You reached over for your champagne glass, your hand shaking slightly as you downed the rest of it. Everyone’s voices were becoming silent, like you were covering both ears or going deaf, and as Cal reached over to give you a kiss on the cheek, your eyes were suddenly heavy.

“Please, excuse me, Cal. I need to run to our room really quickly.”

Cal paused his conversation with Astor to turn to you. “Are you alright? Would you like me to escort you to the cabin?”

And you smiled, “I’ll be fine.”

It was a really nice gesture, but in Cal’s mind it was simple chivalry.

You stood up, your feet sore and the nerves bunching together throughout your legs. The laughter seemed to grow as you exited, and now those nerves shocked you into running.

You barged into your stay room, ignoring the obvious worry the staff gave you, their questions of tea or more blankets flying over your head. You simply speed-walked past them, hiding your face behind your curls so they would not see your very real tears, staining the powder on your cheeks and leaving visible streaks lighter than your natural color. You leaned back on the door and tried to drown out the drunken laughs and loud violins. Controlling your breathing was easy at first until you opened your eyes and saw a mass explosion of gold, the intricate designs of each piece of cloth, the carvings in the wood encasing your mirror, your freshly made bed that Cal had jokingly suggested he’d crawl into late at night. You swallowed the itch in your throat, walking to the make-up table to drop the pins you began tearing from your hair. One-by-one you let each curl fall to your shoulder, their lost weight causing your headband of diamonds to fall to the floor. You silently deliberated what the name of your maid was, cursing yourself for forgetting when she had so nicely introduced herself last night. But then her name slid from your tongue, and you almost cried from the sudden joy.

“Trudy?” you called, starting to hyperventilate. “Trudy?”

You reached behind you to unbutton your dress, but your shoulders just wouldn’t bend far enough. Suffocated, you clawed at the loose hanging jewels instead, pinching and stretching the skin on your back that you could reach.

“Trudy!” you began to choke on your breath, yelling louder each time you called the maid. So you tugged and ripped the silver necklace from your neck, threw your jewelry box across the room, and tossed a few perfume bottles you had packed so delicately against the wall.

“I can’t... I can’t,” you cried, knees partially crumbling beneath you as you leaned against the chair. You lifted your head to witness your disheveled look, hair a mess and mascara smudged just below your water line. Lips quivering, an intense wave of self-pity and self-hatred drowning your thoughts, exclaiming the few words that actually made it through your sore skull. You listened to them, repeated and mean, basically ordering you to listen and to follow.

“Ya no queda mas.”

There is nothing left.

You were indeed a follower - and you were going to oblige.

And so you abandoned everything, opening your room door and running through the crowded hallway full of oblivious passengers who swam in the bliss of a full stomach and buzzed fingertips and toes.

You ran across the deck to the stern of the ship, careless as to who or what you toppled along the way. Of course everyone took an interest, calling out to see if you needed assistance. But as you left their eyesight, their worry diminished and they assumed someone else would offer a hand. One right after the other, they allowed you to cross their paths and leave it in an instant.

Harry lay on a third-class bench, staring up at the starry night. With a cigarette in one hand and the other stuffed away warmly in his coat pocket, he wondered just exactly where in the hell that damn ‘Big Dipper’ was. Or the little one. Hell, any constellation for that matter. He loved watching the night sky, but the city smog hid most of the stars. Now, with only the steam from the funnels blocking his view, he focused on every star individually, losing track of them as time passed, each one beginning to look the same in size but different in brightness. They formed all kinds of shapes in Harry’s mind, but he could not find those documented ones the astronomers raved on about.

He could have sworn he saw the rectangular shape slightly, its handle coming into existence as the sound of sobbing arrived and left in a flash. He lifted himself up, cigarette hanging from his pink lips and eyebrows scrunched in confusion. He watched as you continued running, pausing to catch your breath at one of the benches.

He recognized that beautiful brown skin anywhere.

His feet hit the deck floor immediately once he saw that you weren’t stopping, instead walking towards the stern railing and looking over into the water. He jogged lightly, careful not to make much noise as you contemplated such a drastic decision. Perhaps you were going to change your mind, step away, take a deep breath and go back to your endless desserts and musical concerts. But he quickly hid behind a pole when you checked to see if anyone had followed you, slightly disappointed in the fact that no one did, and stepped onto the railing and swung a leg over.

“Fuck,” Harry whispered, his mind racing and thinking of a way to calmly and safely get you back onto the deck without frightening you. If he were to jump out now, you were for sure going to let go.

You turned around once more and back toward the water, this small gesture of goodbye to the ship and all on it finally settling within you. The waves were dark, not light blue like they were during the daytime. And they sounded louder and more angry, taunting you instead of offering tranquility. The thought of jumping when the sun was out danced around in your head, a more vibrant suicide seeming better suited for your needs.

But maybe you deserved to die in the dark with no other sound besides the unnerving crashing of water and massive propellers in a never ending motion of slicing. You thought about Cal and almost immediately recoiled, the last thought before you died an unhappy thought and not at all what you wanted it to be. Perhaps your mother or your father. Trudy. No one seemed to properly fit, so you settled on the image of your famed racehorse as you leaned away from the railing, hanging off and ready to fall. Your racehorse, dark brown and majestic, waiting for you to come home.

“Don’t do it.”

You gripped the railing tight, unaware that your initial hold was so loose, and you were moments away from leaving your misery behind.

You whipped your head to see who had followed you, stunned that this person was not from the first-class - the class that prides themselves on their selflessness and courage. He was from the third - the class that truly embodied all things selfless and are crucified for it.

“Stay back,” you begged, raising one hand up as if to physically stop him, but you quickly regretted it as you felt the tough winds push you ever so slightly. “Please don’t come near me.”

Harry contemplated his next move, inhaling some final smoke from his cigarette and stepped closer. He showed you the cigarette, stepping towards the railing to throw it overboard.

It was smart, you thought. He was going to come closer, you knew that. But to do it so discreetly as to not scare you - you were kind of grateful.

“Please just leave me alone,” you sobbed, looking back down to the rushing water. “I’ll let go.”

Harry stood dumbfounded, hands in his pockets and worry etched into his face. He remained calm, however, trusting in himself to sweet talk you back over the railing.

He cleared his throat, “No, you won’t.”

You scoffed, newly formed tears threatening to leave your eyes. “What?”

“You won’t do it.”

This time you looked up to the starry sky to gain clearance in thought but were intrigued nonetheless. Either you could snap at him and jump, or you could listen and come back over the railing. All you wanted to do now was sleep, as your head began feeling heavier by the second.

“What are you going on about? Don’t presume to tell me what I will or will not do! You don’t know me.”

Harry cleared his throat awkwardly, still trying to calm the situation down as easily as he could. But as your hands turned whiter as your grip strengthened and your voice began to crack, Harry knew he had to convince you this was not the answer.

He didn’t quite understand it - wanting to end your life at such a young age. By the look of your clothes and make-up, Harry could tell you had most material things the people in third-class would kill for. But there were sparkly tears on your waterline, contradicting the image of glory and wealth you so effortlessly portrayed, and the sounds of crashing waves waiting to gobble you up - the sense of you, the mere idea of that glory and wealth, - it absolutely bombarded any quick wit or joke Harry’s mouth was thinking of spitting. All rational from here on out.

“I’m sorry,” Harry spoke, bringing his hands up to breathe warm air into them. “I just don’t want you to experience the dip, is all.”

You stayed silent, staring at him as he stared at you.

“You know the water’s freezing. If you were to survive the fall, the cold would probably hurt more.”

Now your bottom lip quivered and the sudden realization of how cold the night air actually was hit you at that exact moment, and you internally begged for the stranger to step closer. “How cold?”

Harry shrugged, still trying his best to remain casual. “Most likely a couple degrees over.”

You stared at the black abyss beneath you, “I bet that would hurt.”

Harry chuckled lowly, taking the risk and stepping closer to you that a simple turn of the head was enough to see his whole face. And it dawned on you, swiftly and surely, that this was the boy who could not seem to stop staring at you earlier. He was much more handsome up close, and his voice was the final piece of the puzzle. “Exactly. But if you jump, I’m gonna have to jump in there after you.”

You laughed dryly, “You’re crazy. Absurd. The fall alone would kill you.”

Harry smirked to himself, focused on the way your wavy hair flew in all directions. He was getting you to speak more. He was buying time. So, he removed his jacket and warm vest to prove his statement.

“Yeah, it would hurt,” Harry shrugged, finally stepping close enough to hang across the railing with you. He glanced down to your shivering feet, fearful that the heels would unlock themselves and send you free falling. “Trust me, you don’t want to do this-”

“And how do you know that? Maybe I want to… die.” It resonated as a question in both your minds, the sinking sensation overwhelming your chest.

“We all die someday. I think the best part is not knowing when.”

You observed the boy’s face, studying his expression to somehow gain a better explanation as to what he possibly meant. You swallowed more tears, this time speaking in a low whisper.

“I can easily predict when.”

Harry actually felt his stomach clench.

You continued, “It’s probably already planned, with as many as two-hundred guests in attendance, and an open bar.”

Harry shifted his weight from his right foot to his left, his eyes never leaving yours. “It’s difficult to respond to that.”

You gave him a small smile, “I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

Whether you meant that in a sincere or disrespectful way, Harry was hurt by the comment nonetheless.

“I know you’re angry, but trust me,” he redirected, an attempt to forget suicidal intentions and reasons and focus on the actual present moment itself. “Water that cold, like right down there… it hits you like a thousand knives stabbing you all over your body. You can’t breathe, can’t think-”

You closed your eyes, eyebrows scrunched and suddenly so very cold. “Okay, please stop.”

Harry watched as your skin produced goosebumps and your grip tightened even more. It was a sign of victory, he thought. “I’m just hoping you’ll save me the swim by coming back over the railing.”

You sighed deeply, the air you expelled turning into the cold breeze itself, mixing with the shaky breaths of the one person on this whole damn ship to hear your screams. And you didn’t even physically cry out.

“Come back with me. Trust me, you don’t wanna do this.”

You reached your arm over to prepare for the turn, but instead of gripping the railing like you expected, a warm hand gripped yours instead, tightly, and his thumb immediately began rubbing your knuckles in a soothing motion. He helped you turn back toward the ship, hands now gripping both of yours.

He smiled up at you, his eyes almost watering from the unnoticed stress that was building within him. You grinned slightly, giving a small shrug of the shoulders as the silence broke.

“I don’t want to go back.”

Harry grasped your hands tighter, “Hey, me neither. Do you know how many rats welcomed me in my cabin yesterday?”

You laughed (somewhere between a laugh and a snort), forgetting momentarily that the two of you were standing in dangerous positions exchanging quiet words.

“Thank you.”

“It’s no problem. I’m Harry Styles.”

“I’m-”

“An absolute blooming rose.”

Your eyes widened momentarily, the moment passing with an awareness of peace from the sudden declaration of recorded beauty. You told him your real name anyway, absolutely loving the way it sounded in a british accent, his british accent, but the ‘blooming rose’ reference remained number one. There, with your body still on the wrong side of the ship and his hands now clutching your upper arm and elbow to begin pulling you over - there you were actually content with your current life.

“Up you go.”

You raised one leg to step up a rail, unaware that the beaded lace part of your dress was longer than the rest. It caused a severe slip, and before you knew what was happening, you were falling. You screamed, one hand barely catching the railing and the other arm suffering Harry’s grip and digging nails.

“Harry!”

Harry cried out in distress, almost going over himself. He locked his feet to the ground and against the ship, thighs pressed against the railing, and attempted to pull you up.

“C’mon, you can do it! You gotta climb, too!”

You followed his instructions, trying to climb the railing like a ladder with your free hand. But as you got higher and your legs remained swinging mindlessly against the wet ship, you slipped lower.

“Help me! Help me, please!” you yelled, to Harry and to anyone else who would hear, the ocean now loud with the outrage of your absence.

Harry could feel his heart exploding from the adrenaline spiking as he looked down at your terrified face, relying solely on him to save your life. The whole time he spoke with you he was frightened of the possibility of you letting go or accidentally falling, but now that he could visibly see that you most certainly did not want to die this way, he was mortified.

“I got you, okay?” Harry waited to shout again until you looked back up to him. “I got you.”

You nodded the best you could, the tears still dripping from your eyes and nose, determined to hear his frightened voice.

“I won’t let go! I promise. Now, pull yourself up!”

It took everything in you to support your own body weight with a corset strangling you at the same time, but you gripped the rails and then Harry’s shoulder. The corset made it more difficult to breathe, but you compiled the last pinches of energy and strength within you and aided Harry in your rescue. You groaned as your knees stabbed into the top bar, but the feeling of Harry’s arms wrapping around your waist to pull you over fully eradicated that pain. You two toppled over onto the safe deck, rolling over each other with a loud thud. Harry stayed glued to your waist while you gripped the deck with your nails.

In such a climactic moment, the two of you didn’t notice three members of the crew running toward you with no clue as to what just occurred.

“What’s all this?”

Your dress had ripped slightly, and due to your bedroom tantrum and the high winds, your hair was in absolute disorder. You had no coat on, tears streamed down your face, and a third-class man was hovering over your trembling body. And the crew failed to detect the similar shaking of Harry’s large frame or his scared expression, instead pointing a finger at him and labeling him the guilty party.

“Don’t you move an inch,” a crew member warned, stepping toward Harry and dragging him away from you. Two of the men swooped in to scoop you up, checking for signs of harm.

Your frantic eyes searched for Harry, but he was already looking at you, slightly disappointed and eager to prove himself innocent without throwing you into the cold water himself by revealing the truth.

- 

Finally, they have met lol. xxMoni

[ourloveisforthelovely]

Fresh Start 2

Harry Potter AU 

Characters: Sirius Black x Reader 

Link to Chapter 1

Rating: M for slight smut

_______

The following day was spent moving back into the house that you once shared with Sirius. Molly Weasley kindly offered to keep Harry for a few days. The following day would be James and Lily’s funeral. Molly figured that it would be a good idea for Sirius and yourself to have that particular night free. You had already made the executive decisions that you were going to get wasted. Knowing Sirius, he probably had the same thoughts in his mind.

The night before Sirius tried to start a conversation about the relationship. You had quickly shot that down and ran off to your room.

“We are going to have to talk to each other sometime!”

Sirius shouted at your door. You walked to the bed that you once shared with Sirius and sat down. Sirius was right. The two of you needed to sit down and do a lot of talking but you didn’t want to. What if you took him back and got hurt again? A better question was what if he moved on and you were hurt watching him be happy with someone else. At least for the time being, he seemed desperate to have you as his lover.

Time will just have to fix this one....

9 am: Sirius’ eyes grey opened slowly. He looked up at the ceiling with a sigh. This was the day that he had been dreading since news of James and Lily’s death came to him. He didn’t even want to get up. Sirius spent the night before drinking half a bottle of fire whiskey. If he didn’t have to be a functional adult that day; he would have gone for the full bottle.

The light sound of a bang in the kitchen quickly pulled Sirius from his thoughts.

“Y/n? Darling?”

He slowly got up and walked into the kitchen. You stood on a kitchen chair painting a wall. Sirius frowned and looked around his new freshly painted kitchen.

“You painted the kitchen.”

Sirius said as he continued to look around. You nodded, not bothering to look over your shoulder.

“I also cleaned the stove at 3 am. I have to know what the hell you did to the poor thing. It was filthy.”

Sirius shrugged.

“Remus and I tried to cook. You, as the person who knows me best, know that I can’t cook to save my life.”

You smirked.

“What do you think of this color?”

Sirius nodded.

“You were right. This color does make the kitchen look bigger. Wait a minute, why are you cleaning the stove at 3 am and painting the kitchen?”

You took a deep breath.

“This was healthier than plotting on murdering Peter Pettigrew.”

Sirius stood silently for a moment before walking over and taking the paintbrush out of your hand.

“Y/n, we are going to get him. We are going to get him and I will personally make his life a living hell that he can’t escape from.”

You nodded. Sirius had the feeling that you didn’t believe him. He waited a moment before reaching out to help you down from the chair. The two of you stared at each other the moment Sirius’ hands wrapped around your waist. You swallowed, trying to fight back the feeling of ecstasy from being this close to him again.

As much as you didn’t want to admit it, the two of you were pinning for the other. It was almost shameless. Sirius was giving you that puppy dog look that made your heart swoon and you could tell that he was fighting with everything that he had to not pull you to him. This is going to be harder than you thought!

“Look, I have almost had him a few times. He isn’t going to come here and get all rowdy without consequences.”

You took a breath.

“Sirius, we are both going to end up in Azkaban for setting that dwarf on fire.”

Sirius smirked.

“No. That won’t be happening. I’m going to let the dementors have him but that doesn't mean that I won’t get a few punches in first. I’m bigger than him anyway. We should probably start getting ready. I’ll help you finish this when we get back.”

2 hours later…

Sirius sat in the back of the funeral home trying to avoid any reason to go to the front. He absolutely did not want to see James or Lily’s dead bodies. All Sirius wanted at the moment was a shot of whiskey or a cigarette.

“Sirius?”

He looked up to see his cousin Andromeda looking down at him with the most heartbroken expression ever.

“Hey.”

He replied before looking back down at his lap. Andromeda sat down slowly.

“I am so sorry about James and Lily. I know how much you loved them.”

Sirius nodded.

“Yeah. Thanks.”

Andromeda knew that Sirius was retreating further and further into that dark place that he liked to hide in.

“How is Y/n?”

Sirius looked up to see you still standing at the front of the room. You hadn't moved from James’ coffin in some time. Remus stood beside you with an arm around your waist. He silently thanked his friend for doing the job that he wasn’t.

“She’s taking it hard. You know that neither one of us are that great with communication.”

Andromeda nodded. That was true! She had seen Sirius and yourself avoid problems in the relationship too many times. The two of you seemed to kiss, cuddle, and fuck your problems away instead of talking.

“Yes, I know that well. I heard that she moved back in with you.”

Sirius leaned back on the bench and nodded.

“Yes, she moved back in yesterday. We are going to raise Harry together.”

Andromeda took a breath.

“Sirius, you love Y/n and she loves you.”

Sirius rolled his eyes.

“She doesn’t love me...not anymore. I ruined everything with her.”

Andromeda sighed. Had her cousin always been this difficult?

“Sirius, she has looked back here at you at least 10 times. She is trying to catch your eye. Y/n may be a stubborn proud woman but she is a stubborn proud woman that loves you. Prove to her how much you love her! The two of you aren’t children anymore! You're both essentially parents now! Harry needs the both of you. Won’t you do it for him?”

Sirius’ grey eyes rolled up to where Harry sat on Molly’s lap eagerly playing peekaboo with the Weasly’s son Ron. He quickly stood and walked to the front of the funeral parlor. Remus was the first to look up. He gave Sirius a nod before signaling down to you with his eyes.

Sirius took a breath and looked down at you. You stood looking ahead with tear-stained cheeks and didn’t realize that your best friends were beside you. Remus slowly removed his arm from your waist and Sirius took his place. You didn’t fight the urge to lean into him. Sirius snuggled his face into your lavender-scented hair. He breathed in, enjoying the closeness...even if it was for a moment.

Remus slowly looked at the two of you with a sad smile. This was the way things were supposed to be. The two of you were supposed to be together. Remus could only hope that you leaving Sirius was enough to kick his ass into gear.

The three of you stood in silence. It wasn’t supposed to be like this! Jame and Lily weren't supposed to die! James and Lily were too young.

I’m too young to be a father. Hell, last month I was partying in London…

Sirius thought then immediately felt guilty. The two of you had discussed having a baby sooner rather than later.

“Maybe I do want to have a family after all.”

It was a normal night. Sirius sat on the couch while you finished cleaning up from dinner. You had turned around with a smile when Sirius made the comment.

“I thought that you didn’t want kids.”

You said innocently. Sirius smiled over the book he was reading.

“Maybe I changed my mind?”

He stood up with a sultry smile before pulling you into his arms.

“Maybe I want to call you my wife and see you carry our child? Besides, we are good at practicing making babies...we can just do it for real this time.”

Sirius’ lips closed on your neck. You moaned as his hand slid up your dress.

“Are you proposing to me, Sirius Black?”

“I might just be.”

Sirius pulled himself from the memory. Your engagement ring suddenly felt very heavy in his pocket. Sirius wasn’t about to admit it but he kept the ring in his pocket since you had placed it back in his hand.

“I’m ready to go now.”

You whispered, loud enough for Sirius and Remus to hear. Sirius looked up at his friend and nodded.

“Come on then.”

30 minutes later, Remus walked into the house after Sirius and yourself. The three of you hadn’t said much since the funeral was over.

“So what do we do now?”

Remus asked. You shrugged.

“I don’t know about you two but I am getting drunk.”

Sirius and Remus glanced at each other for a moment before shrugging and following you.

2 hours later, you were drunk off your ass! You stood in the kitchen twirling in Remus’ arms. The loud music blared. Sirius sat at the table with a now empty bottle of booze in front of him watching the two of you with a smile.

“This is a good song!”

You said happily. Remus laughed, feeling dizzy as hell but this dance was everything that he needed at the moment.

“I love it! I hate it but I love it! Reminds me of my grandma.”

You burst into a fit of laughter.

“Your grandma is cool!”

Remus let go of you and held up a hand.

“I need to vomit.”

Instead of going to the bathroom like a sober person, Remus went outside to find a bush. You kept spinning with your bottle of Dubonnet.

After a few moments later, you went to the table to join Sirius. Plopping down on his lap, you threw your arms around his shoulders.

“You didn’t dance with me.”

Sirius chuckled and took a sip of his drink.

“Love, you know that I don’t dance.”

“That’s not what I remember.”

You slurred.

“Remember the Yule Ball? We had a right nifty time.”

As drunk as Sirius was he couldn’t help but think how adorable you were.

“We were under the stairs the whole night.”

“Dance with me.”

You begged shamelessly. Sirius patted your leg.

“Get up then, princess, and get back in my arms.”

You wasted no time in throwing your arms around Sirius’ neck. His arms were around your waist. Both of you were twirling to the most god awful music imaginable!

“I love seeing you smile.”

Sirius said happily. This was the most that you had smiled over the past few months and it felt good!

“I love seeing you smile more! You’re so handsome. I love you, Sirius.”

Sirius froze before giving you a clumsy kiss.

“I love you more, Y/n!”

“Prove it!”

The next morning, you woke with a pounding headache. Putting a hand to your head, you decided that it was time for a special potion.

“What the hell did we do last night?”

You thought before starting to stand up but froze realizing that an arm was around you. Looking down, you knew that hand from anywhere.

“Oh Merlin, what did we do?!”

You thought more urgently realizing that Sirius was wrapped around you. He was still out cold. Looking down, you realized that you were both naked.

“Damn it!”

You muttered before slowly pulling yourself out of your exes arms and tried to remember what happened.

“Prove it.”

Sirius’ grey eyes darkened as he licked his lips.

“Those are dangerous words.”

You pulled him down by his tie before hungrily kissing him. Sirius reached down and picked you up.

30 minutes later, the two of you were completely naked and rolling around in the bed.

“Sirius, please. Don’t be a damned tease! You know how much I love it when you touch me like this.”

Sirius chuckled and shoved his dark hair out of his eyes.

“Do you want me inside of you now?”

“Hurry up!”

You squealed. Sirius didn’t wait to be told twice before pushing into you. You automatically clenched around him, making Sirius moan.

“Has anyone else touched you?”

Sirius slurred. You shook your head before throwing it back against the pillow. Sirius grabbed your legs and threw them around his shoulders.

“N-no. It's you! Always you!”

You shook the memory from your head before getting up and rushing to get dressed. It was time to get Harry and there was no way that you could face Sirius at the moment! You could only pray that he would be gone for his mission when you returned. That would give you a few weeks to prepare to face him.

6 weeks later…

“Pregnant.”

Remus said calmly. You, meanwhile, sat with your eyes clenched with your fingers crossed.

“Are you sure?”

You questioned. Remus sighed before sitting down beside you.

“Y/n, we have done all of the magical tests in addition to all of the muggle ones. I think that it is safe to say that you are going to be a mother.

You stood up and walked to the sink feeling tears forming in your eyes.

“What the hell am I going to do Remus? I’m having a totally unplanned baby with my ex. We have Harry. We are boh in the order….and….”

Remus stood up and quickly pulled you into his arms.

“You are going to breathe first off. Second, everything will be fine. You have me and the rest of the order too. Y/n, I will never abandon you. If you remember its us, as in Sirius, yourself, and me against the world now. We support each other. As far as Sirius is concerned, he loves you. I know that you don’t want to believe that but he does. I also think that you still love him.”

You pressed your face against Remus’ chest. For a moment, you wished the baby would have been with him. At least Remus wouldn’t try to confuse you.

“Yes...I do still love him.”

Remus took your hand in his.

“Sirius has changed.”

You nodded before looking over at Harry, who sat eagerly eating a snack. He was so happy in his own little world. The realization that you were about to have two babies under the age of 3 was almost scary. Sure, people did it all the time but Sirius and yourself were not those people!

“When does he come home?”

Remus’ gentle voice pulled you from your thoughts.

“Tomorrow. He’ll be at dinner tomorrow at the Weasley’s.”

Remus looked thoughtful.

“If you want, I will sit with you when you tell him.”

You nodded.

“It definitely couldn’t hurt.”

[seafleece]

Hey, random question, but what do you think are the M9's love languages?

oh, anon, you absolutely did not sign up for this and i am so sorry, but here we are. i had to look up the five types and keep them in the google doc to remind myself what they were, but uhh here’s almost 4000 words of character analysis and discussion of debatable quality

jester: 

my initial thought was quality time— an obvious and painful one, as it’s the one her mother wasn’t able to provide. i think the sleeper, though, for jester, is acts of service. 

with beau, this especially shows up in reference to healing— jester having a more healing-focused cleric around is a big relief, especially for someone so close to warlock status that she almost was one, but very notably, she very much wants to heal beau. she specifically apologizes for not doing so in the chantry, and attributes that to beau’s absence rather than anything else; more generally, there’s a huge amount of distress on jester’s part when beau is hurt, and that she wants to be the one to heal beau (notably, with the gorgon, she RAN to beau, was immediately upset both times beau started getting petrified, and even dissuaded caduceus or caleb from using their turn to heal beau so she could instead, making sure to be Right There even while nott was applying the oil). she also seems to really value the instances when beau does things for her, especially since there are specific acts that beau reserves for jester (engaging with religion in any capacity, wearing a dress for jester and more broadly allowing jester to pick her clothes, a concept which beau probably has an explicitly negative association with from her mother).

it’s also muddled jester up the worst when it comes to relationships she understands less— the “kiss” with fjord in the temple that was a vehicle for giving jester air, most specifically, comes to mind— and she’s really come to terms with this by realizing that romantic feelings weren’t really what he was expressing, and that it wasn’t necessarily what she was feeling, either. it’s noticeable in how she describes her relationship with the traveler— she feels like her service to him is doing little things for him, and asks, when she’s unsure, when the traveler failed to act on her behalf when they were kidnapped, if she did something wrong to make him angry, and literally desecrates a temple to make up for it as soon as they’re back in town.

and the thing is, quality time isn’t really what was lacking in her relationship with marion— marion probably did have time to spend with jester for at least a little while every day. the problem is that marion simply couldn’t provide jester with things that she needed: access to the outside world and companionship. she had to learn from near-scratch how to navigate relationships of varying intensities, and it shows with her initial zeroing in on fjord as an iteration of the dashing sailor her momma told her about, as well as her more slow-burn come to trust and really invest in and love beau, because she’s never had a relationship like that with a girl, and maybe didn’t even know it was something she could have, or something she could want.

jester’s her proudest when she’s doing things for other people, even if they maybe wouldn’t love her doing it if they knew— threatening beau’s dad because she hates that he hurt her, hearing that beau was thinking about leaving and marching in to modify memory a hag, writing astrid a letter because caleb seems like he liked her, asking essek if he likes caleb because caleb seems to like essek, painting yasha’s room in the xhorhaus, finding outfits for everyone. she struggles with how to rein in showing it and thinking first about the potential consequences, and is unsure how to navigate what it means when she’s shown it in return, but it’s messy and heartfelt and sincere. with her mom, she really clearly appreciates when her mom does do things for her— providing a home for her friend’s family, allowing the m9 to stay in the chateau, coming to the party with them despite her agoraphobia. i’m sort of banking on a scene where jester talks to her about it, apologizes for leaving, and reaffirms that it means a lot to her that marion is stepping out of her comfort zone for her.

beau: 

words of affirmation. this is NO DOUBT something her parents didn’t give her, maybe ever. this is baked into her relationship with them— she knew that her father wanted a boy, he probably Told her this, and she wasn’t one. it’s something she could literally never be, an aspect she would be forever resented for, that would tinge everything her father ever said to her. her mother also probably didn’t give her much if any affirmation, as she was trying to police and fix beau’s behavior to avoid thoreau’s anger for both of them, and never properly elaborated to beau that her intention was to keep beau from being punished (not that it would have made it okay, for the record). it’s also why her conversation with her parents in 92 immediately threw her off, because for once they actually told her she’d impressed them, that she’d done good, and it’s rough as hell to see that. 

unfortunately, it’s also the thing she’s least likely to get from everyone else unless she’s at her worst, because almost everyone else, including fanon, seems to have profoundly absorbed this idea that beau is rude and abrasive and sarcastic and she’s just. not. she might have been at the start, but she’s always been especially soft with jester, she and caleb are very mutually assured about the sort of affection they show each other, she’s always been either openly flirting with or just sort of tenderly awkward with and trying around yasha, she and caduceus have a fun and pretty peaceful dynamic i always love to see, and we know caduceus, for at least a while, considered beau his favorite. 

then, there’s the characters she’s known for butting heads with the most: fjord, with whom she’s developing a sibling dynamic to rival hers with caleb and really obviously is ride or die for; nott, who used to openly insult beau and just about everyone else, and who is now 1/3 of the chaos crew beau is also in; and molly, whose death was a HUGE turning point for beau in terms of a) taking stock of her morals and how she intended to act on them and b) expressing love for someone so you know they know it, before it’s too late. 

jester seems to see this the most, no surprise there, and dairon also sees a lot of potential in beau not because she’s strong or fast (she’s from a martially focused monastery), but because she’s smart. dairon talks about and to beau very affectionately compared to other mentor/guardian figures she’s had, and i think it means a lot to her coming from both jester and dairon. she certainly returns the favor for both of them.

fjord: 

this one isn’t immediately apparent, so i’m gonna start by talking about the nature of his relationship with caduceus (and see where it gets me). 

okay, i lied, i’m starting with molly.

fjord and molly had a thing. it’s clear in retrospect, and i’ve talked about it, but i think it has to do with where fjord was in his quest to reinvent himself. molly was someone who, for all intents and purposes, had flawlessly become a new person— not necessarily because of a concerted effort to change who lucien was, but a different person nonetheless. fjord wanted desperately to believe that that was attainable for him, and thus saw a lot in investing in molly. molly was a silent affirmation that fjord could really pull this off, could really reinvent himself and be fine.

also, molly was hot. enough said.

caduceus, on the other hand, offered something different. caduceus came along right before fjord’s willingness to help uk’otoa was first tested— fjord rose to the occasion, but the whole time there was someone new along, someone whose faith in his deity seemed assured. assured, that’s something fjord never had.

afterward, he got to see what it meant to believe in a god like that, and he started to want in. caduceus seems like a very honest person— though really, it’s just because m9 doesn’t know the right questions to ask him— and his god is the god of the sea, too, right? fjord really lost a rock in molly the way i don’t think a lot of people realize, and it’s why his swallowing the summer’s dance felt so meaningful. he was keeping a part of molly with him, and i wonder if he misses that part of his falchion. after he lost his inspiration for recreation, he started to put stock into authenticity as the answer, and caduceus as the vehicle. and the wildmother was very accepting, too, took him in like a lost sheep.

where fjord is now, i think he values the covenant (which i realize i actually define later, so if i forget to reorganize these before i post, then oops) in a similar way to caleb. more specifically, though, he decidedly the word owe in talking to beau about the group’s relationship, which, among other things, speaks to acts of service. fjord has work to do to earn his place as a paladin of the wildmother (and a good amount of work to do indeed, if getting trounced by darrow was any indication), and he feels the need to repay caduceus for his help, companionship, and guidance. fjord also gets hurt and KO’d. a lot. i think he takes it on the chin as his role in the group— that’s his job, and he has faith in caduceus and jester to keep him up. they’re not done yet, they haven’t finished serving one another, so beau leaving is of considerable offense (near-mutinous, to be specific).

caleb: 

words MEAN SHIT to caleb, you can tell in the way he talks. everyone remembers the times he’s told nott he loves her, he responds best to beau because i think he really loves the way she talks, he shows his feelings in really passionate speeches to nott, to beauregard, and most recently to essek. there’s absolutely a reason why so many goddamn quotes from campaign 2 are attributed to this dude, and it’s because he monologues like a fucking champ. their group is named after his accent. 

as for receiving love, though, i think it’s a little different. we know from talks that he’s placed a lot of value on the things jester has done for him, and moreover to be herself as someone who gives recklessly, but as far as we know he doesn’t intend to do anything with it. with nott, i’m tempted to create a new category that’s something like a covenant? he and nott agreed to travel together and help each other under the worst conditions, and they’ve stuck to this fastidiously. this covenant, this commitment to the group, is something he extends to everyone— he is not willing to walk away from this, and hasn’t been for a long time, he believes in all of them, truly, what they can do— and cherishes the fact that everyone has kept this, except for two very specific moments. beau, when she introduced the threat of her leaving the party, and yasha, when she was taken over by obann. for beau, he actually seemed fairly quiet compared to fjord, and i’m not sure yet on why this is, other that i think he trusted fjord and jester to talk her down. as for yasha, he seems to be really invested in commiserating with yasha as two haunted ones (literally), and sees her as someone who also really values the group but sees her ability to belong as tarnished by what she’s done. 

for the purposes of this, i’m gonna refer to it as that, as a covenant (yes i’m a failed church kid, what of it) and as separate from acts of service, because it’s more akin to the promise of one major, permanent act of service to each other. i wonder if it’s this steadfastness in that idea that partially led caduceus to continue and develop the idea of his role, because caleb and the rest of team cockroach, as i call them, were gonna keep that covenant if it killed them, and caduceus could keep them from getting killed, at the very least, if he entered into it.

but anyway, that covenant now extends to essek, if he decides to take it. and if he does, that will mean something infinite to caleb, i think. 

caduceus: acts of service.

okay. i wanna talk about caduceus and danger.

caduceus doesn’t heal himself. we know this. he heals everyone else, and not himself. 

i’ve been checking critrole stats on this, and if i’m reading correctly, he has taken the most damage (157) in one episode than anyone else. and it’s not a small margin. the closest is yasha (129) and i’m almost certain that’s from the episode where she decided to literally get attacked until she passed out. i was trying to guess which episode this was from, and then it hit me: probably the episode where he fucking died, right? because it really just never came up again.

caduceus has: started to drown at least 3 times in his first month on the job, been killed by nott, been beaten near to death when yasha was charmed, and been very quietly and very badly stabbed in the back by a disappearing assassin. he’s also died at home, as a family tradition.

there’s a million better meta posts about caduceus’s relationship with death, or even about him not healing himself, but I just want to set it as potential precedent for the idea that caduceus, to some degree, sees value in himself as someone who doesn’t mind dying in a fight. for one thing, it’s been a temporary thing almost from day one with m9, as jester immediately invested in diamonds when they got back to town. it’s not his first rodeo, either, and his family has normalized death to an, and i say this more because of how it’s affected him rather than because i dislike the idea of normalizing death, an upsetting degree.

giving healing, that’s his job, but eliminating himself as someone who needs help or healing, well, that’s healing in a way, too, right? if he doesn’t get healed, it’s more for everyone else. worst comes to worst, jester can heal him if need be. or, y’know. not heal him.

caduceus’s relationship with m9 has noticeable transaction rhetoric, and i wonder where that really fits in with his family. obviously, his role in the family was implied as the one who stayed behind, and his parents definitely imparted a need for him to be stable, a role he’s continued to fill for m9 to his quiet detriment but i think he’s also jumped on the opportunity to finally be the older one, the wiser one, of the group. there’s a power caduceus has over the group that’s really understated— they just sort of listen to him, even if what he’s saying doesn’t actually make sense, because he started with nott, beau, and caleb as a wise savior, a protector, and upon finding the others, it’s not like jester, fjord, or yasha were filling that role. molly certainly wasn’t either— it’s funny, how in retrospect caduceus seems inevitable to the group because they really didn’t have anyone like him. the closest thing to a voice of reason they had was fjord and caleb, and early on, caleb was not in great standing because of his and nott’s perceived standoffishness, and fjord threw up ocean water, so like, what’s up with that, right?

at the very least, he definitely believes he owes the mighty nein something, a role to fill, a job to perform. a service to act out, if you will. his job is to heal, and he does less healing if he heals himself. he seems to view him taking a hit as a win, in a way— it’s a hit that someone else doesn’t take.

i have a lot of hope that reconnecting with his family and seeing how he’s grown while they haven’t allows him to revisit his notions of what he needs to be, and i have a lot of hope that moving forward, he’ll be able to invest more in the other motif he’s developed, which is gift-giving: fjord, with the star razor; his sisters, with the hat (which seems small but like. boy’s had it for a while) and the flute; and, most recently, in helping jester pick out everyone’s outfits. it allows him to feel like he’s giving something to the people he cares about without it hurting him.

yasha: 

truly everything. it’s hard to get a read because yasha really just soaks in all the love m9 wants to give her. if i had to guess further, i’d say we should look at her and molly’s relationship, because molly’s the only character we’ve seen her unabashedly love, and the thing that stood out most to me was physical touch. that echoes really depressingly with her “fight” in 89— she got something out of being that close to someone, even if it felt like reparation or atonement, and i think the only person in m9 who’s been really unafraid to touch yasha is jester.

i’ll admit i have a soft spot for yashter, but, like, it’s there, right? the obvious trust, the faith jester has in yasha and the fear and turmoil when that was tested? i remember really clearly jester giving yasha a piggyback ride in zadash in an early ep, and like— when’s the last time someone was strong enough to do that? when’s the last time someone wanted to do that for yasha? everyone’s mistrusted yasha to some degree for the entire run of the campaign, and, like, how much did her hopes to get close to everyone else just evaporate after the king’s cage? does she really even believe she can have it again? she was so close— jester trusted her fully, she and beau were in a comfortable mutual place with flirting, she’d talked to caduceus and jester about zuala, she even felt comfortable picking up nott and throwing her around (which, by the way, i love their dynamic).

she seems to have leaned more into the protective, threatening stance since they got her back, which, if she’s comfortable with it, is just fine— maybe she’s shifting more towards acts of service, but i just hope it isn’t her just accepting the idea that everyone will always be afraid of her, that she won’t be close like that again. because molly wasn’t afraid of her. jester wasn’t, and i don’t think she is, now— but fjord showed a lot of distrust, and i think yasha’s scared of the degree to which she hurt beau and how to even broach that discussion, and she attacked them, how could they ever forgive her or trust she wouldn’t do it again? 

(i wish i had a happier end to this, so i’ll just say that she did seem comfortable last ep, and that she may or may not have interest in getting a tattoo from jester? interesting stuff.)

veth: 

on a person to person level, veth definitely feels she and caleb are acting on the promise they’ve made to help each other— now she’s reached it, things are a bit more nebulous, but it’s obvious she wants to stick around for him. i’ll admit, her words to everyone in 97 were a bit surprising to me— she hasn’t really been good at conveying emotion like that before unless she’s desperate or really upset, and i imagine it was something she started planning in her head to say to everyone as soon as the first ritual didn’t work. that might be, i think, what she felt as relief, just not being able to articulate what she wanted to say to everyone.

as for her family, veth believes she owes her best self to yeza and luc— she kept herself from them not because she couldn’t have gone back, but because she felt like someone else, like someone worse, and the exaggerated tendencies from her previous life only reinforced this— she didn’t believe she deserved to be around them, before now. before caleb, i don’t know if she had any hope for returning to them at all, and he changed that entirely.

i’m also very interested in why veth is able to reconcile her marriage with yeza as veth with her loving caleb as nott, and if she sort of considers herself as two different people. we’ve seen so little of what she feels comfortable expecting from other people— for now, i’d say acts of service seems appropriate? but maybe something closer to just. fulfilling promises.

bonus: for the other two who are considered part of the mighty nein

kiri: 

words of affirmation. i’m a HUGE kenku stan, anyone who’s played d&d with me knows this, and i’m especially fascinated with the relationship with words when you can only speak the words you hear/remember. on the most basic level, if you speak to kiri, you are giving her a gift, you’re giving her the ability to speak, too. and if those words are affirming, then she can say them back! and you’re giving them to her, in a sense, to use as she pleases and repeat them to herself, even, and i just love that image— her, to herself, saying “i love you” in other people’s voices. i’m ride or die for kenkus, and kiri started it.

essek: 

okay, so almost everyone in the m9 could be read as needing words of affirmation, because it’s so clear that they need more love and knowledge of love than they’ve received, and have found it in each other. essek has quite literally found it in m9 for the first time. he absolutely needs all of these, like, ASAP, but i think it’s what everyone says to him that get him the most. caleb’s speech, obviously, but it’s also them casually referring to him as their friend, it’s jester’s messages, even if he’s busy. it’s important to say, though, that i think it’s a specific type of affirmation: things that have nothing to do with his magic ability (and moreover, any of these gifts that have nothing to do with it). essek’s built his entire life on the idea that he is someone incredibly powerful and smart for his age— m9 are probably the first people to make him feel like he was more than that, because they want to know about the rest of him, and in becoming friends with them, he’s confronting the fact that he doesn’t really believe there is a rest of him. they want to know a part of himself that he at best has neglected and has been neglected by others, and at worst that he believes does not exist. when they talk about him as a friend, it adds to who he can be. he’s seeing, for the first time, that he can exist as someone else than his abilities and his ambition.

i initially started off with words of affirmation and he clearly needs that, but i think he really just needs all of these in a very specific way: he needs to feel love that is not based in merit, that pertains to who he actually is in this life rather than what he can become in the next, that values the life he’s living right now, because he’s not getting that from the dynasty. it seems like a low bar, maybe, to people who only have the one life, as far as we know, but his arc this campaign shows that it really, really isn’t.

[casualmaraudering]

What are some of your Remus x Fabian/Redwolf (?) hcs?

oh anon you know the way to my heart, asking questions like that,,,

when they first started talking, Fabian made a note of all the books Remus reads (and very often he rereads his favourites) - mostly muggle novels Fabian never even knew existed cause he's pureblood. he read them all just to have an excuse to talk to Remus

Remus is generally quite a sleepy person, but after the full moon, he's basically asleep 99% of the time for like two whole days. Fabian makes a habit of wearing something comfortable or generally warm during those days, cause Remus usually sleeps on his shoulder

Fabian wears suspenders a lot. Remus approves a great amount

the first few months of them dating, Remus spent a great deal of time making sure none of Fabian's dormmates will notice that he slept there or spent time there cause he'd hate to be the center of gossip, honestly. All of them know, cause Fabian told them, but for the sake of Remus's sanity they just pretend they don't notice the clothes he leaves or if he happens to bump into someone on the stairs

Fabian and James get along quite nicely - they're both Quidditch captains so they'll often banter about that

with Sirius, it takes a bit of time to get used to Fabian. he finds it hard to accept someone new into their group, especially someone he doesn't know, but with a little bit of time, they become really good friends. mind you, they're a type of friends that insult each other and bicker (mostly on Sirius's part) but it's all with love

they may or may not have scheduled to have Prefect rounds together. and then may or may not have sneaked off to make out in some random corner of the castle

once during a hogsmeade weekend, Remus mistook Gideon for Fabian. He walked up to who he thought was Fabian and stood on his tiptoes and kissed the corner of his mouth and then started chatting about his plans. in his defence, they are identical twins and were wearing casual clothes. but once Gideon explained that he is, in fact, not Fabian, Remus wasn't able to look him in the eye for like a month without wanting to die

Fabian actually found that quite funny tbh

Fabian is a person with a rather healthy diet, since he does sports. Remus,,,,,, Remus is not

their life habits are actually polar opposites. Fabian has a set, normal bedtime and gets up in the morning - Remus never knows when he'll go to sleep or how long he'll sleep. Fabian has a healthy diet, and Remus is content with eating popcorn for breakfast. Fabian is sporty, Remus would rather die than ever do any sport of any kind.

but they make it work. Fabian coaxes Remus to do some yoga and a little bit of running (it's actually not that bad once he's used to it, but Remus is never going to admit it), and Remus gets Fabian to loosen up a bit and convinces him there's nothing bad with having some junk food after dinner every other day

Remus sleeps clutching a pillow which Fabian finds unbelievably cute

Fabian sleeps with socks on sometimes. Remus has very strong opinions about that

Fabian is closeted when it comes to his sister and mother (Gid found out by accident once). his family is very important to him, and so he's terrified of them taking it the wrong way. but when he takes remus home for the holidays once (as a "friend"), everyone absolutely loves Remus, including Molly's kids.

and Fabian's mom isn't easy to fool. she knows. she's just waiting for Fabian to be ready to tell her

Hope adores Fabian but she adores every person Remus has ever dated lmao. she does genuinely think he's a good son in law material (Remus blushed all the way to his ears when she said that once)

Remus lives in a muggle home. and Fabian lives in a pureblood home. the cultural differences,,,,,, oh boy

Remus almost died when the mirror in Fabian's bathroom spoke at him. yes he's spent several years at Hogwarts but there's still so many things he doesn't know

Fabian thinks automatic coffee makers are the best thing humanity has ever came up with (they froth milk!!!!! and Remus has stencils to draw little hearts with cinnamon!)

Remus doesn't like to sleep in complete darkness, but he's also embarrassed about it. once Fabian connects the dots, he ends up researching spells and then eventually will just charm a few little firefly-esque lights floating at the top of the bed canopy

Fabian is notoriously late for everything. classes, study groups, prefect meetings, dates, you name it. once Remus learns that it is A Thing, he starts just outright bringing books to dates. he then points out how much of the plot he managed to go through in the time it took Fabian to arrive

Fabian takes up a healing class in school when he learns Remus is a werewolf. he thinks of Remus as someone who he's staying with in the long run, so he figures he might need to know basic aid spells

Remus didn't tell him immediately, of course. but Fabian isn't stupid, it wasn't hard to see that there was something up and all of Rem's friends seem to know what that is.

Sirius eventually told him, actually. Fabian was being a bit annoying about it, it made Remus feel bad (and, of course, Remus thought that Fabian will break up with him the second he knows), so Sirius was pissed and called Fabian out and then told him.

it took a bit of adjustment. but the longer Fabian thought about it, the more it made sense. and at that point he's pretty much in love so he can't just let something stupid like that ruin it

since then, Sirius and James deem him worthy to actually enter the Marauders. they show him the cloak, the map, let him in on all the secrets and all. they do still give him the whole "we'll kill you if you hurt him" talk, but he's now officially a friend

Lily has a habit of running in the morning, with Padfoot. Fabian eventually joins them

Lily and Fabian actually become the mom and dad of the group cause they're the only ones with functional braincells and all (there's something about ginger hair, they have smarts and self preservation instincts) - yes, James is a mother hen, but he's also impulsive and comes up with most stupid and dangerous pranks. Remus is smart but he also forgets to take care of himself. and Sirius is, well... Sirius

and Remus has actually dated both Lily and Sirius before, that's often a subject of jokes (especially James joking that he's the only one immune to Rem's charms)

Fabian is Scottish. turns out Remus is extremely weak about kilts

they both grew up basically in the middle of nowhere so they like to climb trees and take walks in fields/forests

Remus's patronus used to be, of course, a wolf. the first time he cast it, he understandably hated it and refused to cast it again. a few years out of school, on a university exam, he had to cast one again. and it changed from a wolf, to some type of bird he's never seen before

it confuses him a lot, and he spends a lot of time trying to figure out why would his Patronus change. it isn't until he talks to one of his professors and they say that it might change in an instance of true love, that he asks Fabian about his own patronus. which is a hawk (a red tailed hawk, to be exact)

Sirius James and Lily tease him for weeks

they both come from families of relative poverty (Fabian is a pureblood, but his father's death was a very complicated matter with a lot of bullshit from the ministry, so the family didn't manage to get any of his money) so they value work incredibly, and also work extremely hard during their first few years out of school. They still live with their parents during that time just to save up. buying their first house together is one of their proudest moments in life

Fabian is a professional Quidditch player and so he becomes the honorary favourite cause "sorry Moony, but he has free tickets to the VIP seats at all the best matches"

Fabian also loves photography (especially muggle cameras - he says they're much better than wizarding varieties). and usually he likes to take photos of nature and wildlife, but he has an entire growing collection of photos of Remus (even carries a small photo in his wallet, cause he's a sap)

[halothenthehorns]

All in the Family

Chapter 105: Luna Lovegood

Last co-authored with Tiffiny Smith, thanks for all your help!

HPHPHPHP

Regulus found himself tangled in something - the branches of a tree? After a moment of panic making sure it wasn't the Whomping Willow, he disentangled himself and peeked out at the ground below, where the other seven were getting their bearings.

What caught his attention, however, was the giant tower not ten yards away. Despite its forbidding appearance, it had some wide, decent-sized steps leading up to a door with an eagle-shaped knocker, the whole affair had some pretty windows, and there was a well-maintained path with a sign (or maybe three) on it leading to the road some distance away. Regulus couldn't read the sign (it was facing the road), but Potter made a beeline for it.

Then he stopped and stared.

"Well?" Sirius hollered. "What's it say? Where are we?"

"Whose place is this?" Alice asked, staring at the tower.

"The Quibbler," said Potter. "Editor, X. Lovegood. Anybody heard of him?" The pureblood name rang an old bell in his head, but he'd never met one personally.

"Lovegood?" said Frank, furrowing his brow in confusion, the same running through his own mind. Had his mum ever mentioned an oddball named Lovegood in school?

"Don't ask me!" Potter said back. "Listen to this: pick your own mistletoe. And Keep Off the... dir..igg...ibble plums."

Sirius darted over to a bush with radish-like fruits on them and threw one at Potter, who caught it and looked confused.

Regulus decided watching them was a waste of time and set about searching for the book, which was wedged in a windowsill just barely out of reach. He Accio'd it and started reading. Well, Luna was either the wife or kid of this X., and judging by the fact Harry was back off to school, either were likely. Either a student Harry was about to meet or the new DADA teacher.

It wasn't as if he was anxious to be away from here, at least he was finally in a respectable pureblood home again, only the second since all this madness had started counting his own. Yet, for the first time in his life, he didn't care. He had no inclination to get to know these people just because his parents would have wanted him too, not knowing who else they wanted him to befriend, Bellatrix at the top of his list he may start avoiding right along with Sirius now. Best to focus on the part of getting them out of here instead.

Right off the bat Harry was having bizarre dreams. His parents were mentioned, and Potter came back from the sign to join the others. Sirius's mouth was wagging noiselessly at the notion that Mrs. Weasley would cry over Kreacher's dead body. Out of it all, Ron and Hermione wearing crowns was about the most normal part of Harry's dreams, and the dark corridor with a door at the end stood out only because of how irrelevant it was.

Harry woke up, and everyone brightened immediately at the prospect of going to Hogwarts.

"Nothing too bad can happen there, right?" said Potter cheerily, and Regulus rolled his eyes at him. He wasn't the only one. Had he been listening to the past four books?

The hustle and bustle of getting ready to leave was a sharp contrast to the tranquility of the garden. Mother's shrieking, which nobody was bothering to silence, and which Regulus winced slightly at having to read aloud, only added to the distinction.

Then Sirius showed up in dog form, managed to insist his way into Mad-Eye Moody's guard (which was one short) and Molly worried on and on about everything (which Regulus was beginning to understand she thought of as her solemn duty, surpassed only perhaps by Mad-Eye) and causing Harry to liken her to Aunt Petunia, which raised instant protest from Lily.

"Mrs. Weasley is nothing like that vile woman!" the redhead fumed. "Their attitudes may be similar, but they spring from polar opposite motivations."

No one had the death sentence in them to argue with her even if they disagreed, which none did.

The group proceeded to the train until it was time to depart, and Padfoot said his goodbyes to Harry in far too human-like fashion, but it was absolutely ruined by Mrs. Weasley using his real name instead of Padfoot, or even Snuffles. Regulus still couldn't help pausing over the scene regardless as his mind wrapped around every oddity of it. Sirius, as a dog, which he still wasn't used to the idea of. Sirius giving a fond farewell to a godson he'd arguably spent more time worrying about than his own brother. He wanted to talk to him, the urge growing more desperate with every page, but there was a streak of pride deep in him that made the idea loathsome. Sirius would only listen to him now because he was starting to agree with him rather than just wanting to talk to his brother again, Regulus would just have to figure this out for himself.

Once on the train, at least Harry's problems took an easy center stage, Ron and Hermione mock-abandoning him for their prefect duties and leaving him in the company of Ginny, Neville, and the pre-acclaimed 'Loony' Lovegood, per Ginny's introduction.

She certainly did start off a sight, and only got more interesting the longer she talked. Loony did seem to support her, between the butterbeer cork necklace and wearing vegetation as jewelry. This odd paper, the Quibbler, was once again referenced in Luna's own hands, but rather than finally getting a peek at that article mentioning Sirius, Harry instead turned to Neville and they began chatting about some plant.

He admittedly would have grown rather bored with that very fast, if it didn't send some slime all over the whole compartment just as Cho Chang walked in.

Regulus nearly fell out of the tree laughing at the mental image, and even as he caught his breath back and glanced down he saw he wasn't the only one. Peter had been scaling the tree, to join him presumably, but was now only halfway up and clutching a branch precariously for support. Sirius had fallen into the dirigible plum bush and looked covered in them like he was trying to add to Luna's fashion statement.

Literally all of them had gotten a laugh out of it, even that Muggleborn Evans. He smiled to himself and reached down to offer Peter a hand to help him the rest of the way up, watching patiently as he got himself a more steady branch before continuing.

Regulus listened with some unfamiliar dread in his stomach as the two prefects returned to the carriage and explained their new duties, as well as explaining Malfoy was the Slytherin one, to no one's surprise. His parents were already talking about the party they'd be throwing when he got that badge come next summer, and they'd given Sirius a whole new level of shit when he hadn't gotten one. Neither boy had even thought that was possible until they'd seen it in action. Sirius had acted as if he hadn't even cared, and for the first time Regulus squirmed at his fate pressing in on him even sooner than he'd imagined. Now it was next summer that would be the real test instead of even waiting until he was of age and letting his parents down he didn't necessarily want what they did. He certainly had no desire to be a prefect, how would they take that news?

"Hey, you alright?" Peter asked quietly. He'd been picking off leaves and shredding them for his own amusement, he'd even been considering moving a branch over into a patch of sun and maybe closing his eyes and really enjoy this brief respite of anything horrifying happening to them or Harry, but he couldn't very well do that when Regulus started chewing on the inside of his cheek over something as silly as the prefect badges.

Regulus met his eyes in surprise for several moments, before smiling kindly and answering honestly, "I've been better." He glanced down at his brother though and kept reading instead of elaborating, and Peter nodded to himself, Sirius did feel like the problem and the answer on most given situations.

Sirius was too busy still laughing to even notice Peter had ditched them again, let alone Regulus was trying to catch his eye from ten feet above him. Luna Lovegood was a hoot, he wished she was alive and in school with them now! She'd be as much fun to pull pranks on as Evans, this blonde may even laugh along at them!

James was listing against him for support as they all heard the article about Sirius presumably being some singing sensation. "Well go on then Stubby!" James wheezed. "Give us a tune and I'm sure the Ministry will never look twice at you again!"

"Don't encourage him," Remus rolled his eyes, but far too late, Sirius began singing the last Sorting Hat song they'd heard verbatim.

Lily, Alice, and Frank didn't think he could make the next top charts or anything, but they were reasonably impressed he even remembered the thing from the beginning of their year.

Regulus seemed to be ignoring them above anyways and didn't let them have any more fun with it, predictably, as he kept reading the next article as well, something about Fudge murdering goblins into pies, it was just too funny! Sirius still hadn't climbed out of the bush.

"Oh stop you idiots," Lily finally had enough, her temper snapping, they literally could not take anything seriously! "In case you've forgotten, Sirius is a wanted man for multiple murders! How is laughing at this poor girl helping that?"

"Haven't forgotten," Remus scowled at her, instantly insulted she seemed to think otherwise.

"No harm in laughing off this drivel in the meantime," James finished, completely unrepentant as he grinned at her.

Lily glanced down and saw Sirius Black was still smiling, the first time she knew of he'd done so in the face of this bleak future ahead of him, and hesitated saying anything back.

Regulus hadn't really thought much of the article, no sane person would believe that long enough to hear anyone out, and yet the real story was just as convoluted. Instead he'd kept going, now killing any pretense of a good mood as Malfoy barged into the compartment. His blood chilled at the parting words he left, not in fact more arrogance, but a sly observation of apparently having noticed Sirius on the platform!

His idiot brother was already safe back at Grimmauld place though, he quickly soothed himself, whether he wanted to be or not. Malfoy, Lucius or Draco, were no match for him even if he wasn't.

His mouth was still much more dry than usual though as he forced himself to keep going, but Sirius' snort of disbelief echoing up below wasn't as comforting as he would have thought.

Things only got more grim as Harry got off the train, and Hagrid of all people was absent from his usual post. None of them could even imagine it, the giant of a man had been there every year for the lake ride, now even that was changing. Would nothing in this future remain the same?

Clearly not, as even the carriages were now being pulled by beasts! What was happening to this school?

Peter saw Regulus's disturbed look as he read about the description of those ghastly horse-like things, and shouted loud enough that Stoatshead Hill had likely heard. "Ha! Take that you arseholes, I wasn't making them up!"

"Huh," was all James and Sirius could manage to say to that, while Remus's eyes widened with just as much excitement as if he were hearing about Blast-Ended Skrewts all over again.

"Fascinating, I'm so f'ing sorry Peter! What do you think they even are? Why can only you see them?"

"I can too," Frank frowned at the lot, but even Alice gave him a look of shock for the declaration.

He shrugged and looked just a bit shy at all attention suddenly on him. "What? Hadn't come up."

"How about all the ruddy times the 'horseless carriages' were mentioned!" Lily accused. "What on Earth are they?"

"Don't know," he frowned and tensed his shoulders as still everyone was looking at him now. "I've tried looking them up, but as Harry's said himself, it's a pretty big library when you don't know what you're looking for."

"What kind of Ravenclaw are you?" Sirius scowled.

Peter just smiled that finally his friends didn't think he was playing some weirdly elaborate prank on them any longer. It was no wonder to him his dormmates often thought he was soft in the head, seeing things they couldn't. Now the next time he swore he saw one in the forest, they'd actually believe him!

"What does it say that this Loony girl can see them too though," Sirius grinned and looked up at Peter obviously. He flipped him off, and Sirius laughed.

James and Remus released a breath both of them had been holding for a painfully long time, things really were going back to normal.

[twoidiotwriters1]

Written In The Stars CXXII (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: I think the second half of this book is my best work yet. I know I always say this and that’s bc I’m always getting better -Danny

Words: 4,073

Series’ Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Chapter Twenty: St. Mungo's.

At five in the morning the mood hadn't changed much in the room, Fred had fallen asleep on her shoulder, George and Ginny were across, staring intently at some point on the wall, Ron kept his face hidden behind his hands.

Harry and Sirius would look around the room with a lost air, unsure of what their part in this whole thing was. Mel and her mother had the same worried expression, none of them was known to be patient, but they didn't have a choice, they were all waiting...

Mel was worried about Mr Weasley, but she was also worried about her uncle back in the castle, about Umbridge and how she'd react to the missing Gryffindor students... She was also worried about Erick, all alone and having to deal with the death of the man he'd admired his whole life.

That was all Mel could feel at its fullest lately, no happiness was lasting, no bliss was ever-present. Mel was in a constant state of worry and distress, part of it because of her own trauma, and because all around her there was simply no safe place where to hold on to.

Mrs Weasley came rushing through the door. Mel stared at the woman, trying to find any hints of the possible news. She didn't have to wait for long, though.

"He's going to be all right," The woman said. "He's sleeping. We can all go and see him later. Bill's sitting with him now, he's going to take the morning off work."

Fred sat back beside her with heaviness, Mel pulled him closer with one arm and hugged him sideways, George and Ginny stood up and hugged their mother tightly. Ron finished his butterbeer, his usual colour slowly going back to his face.

"Breakfast!" said Sirius, standing up with newfound energy. "Where's that accursed house-elf? Kreacher! KREACHER! Oh, forget it, then. So it's breakfast for — let's see — nine... Bacon and eggs, I think, and some tea, and toast —"

Harry got up swiftly and walked over to the stove, clearly wanting to be of use in a room where he felt he had no place to take. He was wrong. Mrs Weasley made her way to the boy and took the plates out of his hands, encasing him in a fierce hug.

"I don't know what would have happened if it hadn't been for you, Harry. They might not have found Arthur for hours, and then it would have been too late, but thanks to you he's alive and Dumbledore's been able to think up a good cover story for Arthur being where he was, you've no idea what trouble he would have been in otherwise, look at poor Sturgis..."

Before Harry had a chance to reply, she let him go and turned to Sirius and Emily.

"Oh, I'm so grateful... They think he'll be there a little while and it would be wonderful to be nearer... Of course, that might mean we're here for Christmas..."

"The more the merrier!" Sirius smiled openly at the woman. Emily nodded in agreement.

Mel knew Sirius loathed having to spend all his time inside the house, even with the company of Emily it surely was annoying, having nothing to do given the circumstances of his life.

"Sirius," Harry moved closer to the man and whispered something Mel couldn't quite hear.

Sirius gave the boy a funny look and followed him to the pantry. Mel felt the irresistible need to follow them as well, but she figured, whatever Harry wanted to talk about in private was not her business, not anymore. That much she'd said to him a few hours ago.

Fred stirred in his place and finally moved away from her grip, hastily cleaning his face before anyone could notice, Mel pretended not to see for his benefit.

"I'm going to help my mum with breakfast," She told him. "I'm happy your dad's well."

Fred nodded, half-listening to the girl. When she moved over to get something out of a shelf, she listened to Harry's voice coming from the little room next to her.

"Sirius, I... I think I'm going mad... Back in Dumbledore's office, just before we took the Portkey... for a couple of seconds there I thought I was a snake, I felt like one — my scar really hurt when I was looking at Dumbledore — Sirius, I wanted to attack him —"

"It must have been the aftermath of the vision, that's all. You were still thinking of the dream or whatever it was and —"

"It wasn't that. It was like something rose up inside me, like there's a snake inside me —"

Dumbledore's words felt heavier than before, if Harry was truly affected by some kind of dark magic... it reminded her when Ginny started to act strange, when she'd been...

"Possessed," Mel whispered.

The door to the pantry opened abruptly and Sirius walked out of it causing her to jump, Mel directed herself to the stove, doing her best to not look back to where she knew Harry was currently standing.

She listened to Ginny's slow breathing unable to fall asleep. Her mind was replaying every moment of the last few months after the third task, trying to see if there were any hints that could point to a possession.

Mel thought hard about every time she had touched the boy, which to be fair, wasn't that many. Harry was acting up more often, that much was true, but who wouldn't after the hell he'd been through? Everyone had a limit, and Harry's got surpassed by a wide difference.

She didn't want to think about this, but she couldn't ignore it, not when it could lead to some of her friends getting hurt. It wasn't that she didn't trust Harry, but once again, Ginny was absolutely trustworthy and yet she'd petrified Hermione without meaning to. It could've ended worse if it weren't because Hermione got the answer on time.

When it finally was time for lunch Mel followed everyone downstairs with very little energy. No one but Harry seemed to notice, and that only because he too hadn't slept. Mel was once again torn between her duty and her personal interests. On one side, she felt she owed to her uncle to pay close attention, but that meant staying as close as possible, and that was something she didn't want to do.

Maybe it wasn't about being close physically, maybe she just had to get closer to his head. That one she could do without having to spend time with him. Legilimency and Occlumency.

That afternoon they were meant to visit Mr Weasley, the trip could be useful, she could stand next to Harry and try to perceive if his energy had changed. It was hard work, and she couldn't fully trust in the little trick, but right now that was all she had.

An hour later and an awkward train ride with Tonks and Moody, she found herself entering 'ST. Mungo's hospital for magical maladies and injuries' through the glass of what appeared to be an abandoned department store.

The things Mel saw in the waiting room were certified to give her nightmares, or at least, very peculiar fever dreams. A group of wizards and witches were walking around the rows of people writing down things on clipboards and asking questions about their symptoms. Beside her, she heard Harry asked Ron if those were doctors.

"Doctors?" Ron asked in a tone of bewilderment. "Those Muggle nutters that cut people up? Nah, they're Healers."

"Hey, they're not nutters!" Mel argued. "Muggles can't heal each other magically, they had to find their own solutions..."

"Yeah, yeah," Ron rolled her eyes. "Look, mum's there!"

"Over here!" Mrs Weasley called from the line where she was standing.

Behind the desk, she saw the portrait of Dilys, the witch that was also inside Dumbledore's office. Mel timidly waved at her, the witch did a quick count to make sure all the Weasleys were there along with Harry and Mel and she discretely returned Mel's greeting, disappearing from her portrait right after that.

"It's these — ouch — shoes my brother gave me — ow!" A man at the front of the line caught her attention. "— they're eating my — OUCH — feet — look at them, there must be some kind of — AARGH — jinx on them and I can't — AAAAARGH — get them off —"

"The shoes don't prevent you reading, do they?" said the witch at the front desk. "You want Spell Damage, fourth floor. Just like it says on the floor guide. Next!"

Two more people went before them, one worried father holding a little girl by the ankle, with fluffy white wings coming out of her back, and one man that was there looking for a wizard that apparently was confused to the point he was sure he was a teapot.

"Hello," Mrs Weasley said when they arrived at the front. "My husband, Arthur Weasley, was supposed to be moved to a different ward this morning, could you tell us — ?"

"Arthur Weasley? Yes, first floor, second door on the right, Dai Llewellyn ward."

"Thank you. Come on, you lot."

They followed through the halls and Mel continued to look around curiously, she probably had a funny dreamy look on her face, because Ron nudged her side, smirking.

"What now, you're adding 'Healer' to the list of jobs you want when you grow up?"

Mel snorted.

"No! Didn't you see all the crazy things happening in the waiting room? I wouldn't get used to that! I'm afraid that even though I've spent years as a witch now, at heart I'm still a muggle."

"Give it time, Lady," George replied. "It's been like what, four years? You won't even remember your life without magic after a decade living like a witch."

For some reason, that made her feel slightly uncomfortable. She loved being a witch, but her muggle life wasn't something she wanted to forget, especially when it had been the best years of her friendship with Harry...

Why did her mind insist on bringing Harry to every discussion?

"We'll wait outside, Molly," Tonks said. "Arthur won't want too many visitors at once... It ought to be just the family first."

Harry and Mel immediately stepped back, but Mrs Weasley reached out to get Harry and the twins grabbed her by the arms, pulling her along.

"Don't be silly, Harry, Arthur wants to thank you..."

"And there's no way you're staying behind," Fred said playfully. "Dad would love to see her daughter-in-law..."

"If you keep saying that you'll end up believing it," Mel warned him.

"I bet my parents would rather have you as a daughter instead of this bad copy of me," George teased.

"Who are you calling a copy, you idiot?" Fred reached to hit his brother, but George hid behind her. "Everyone knows I'm more attractive than you!"

"You two stop fighting!" Mrs Weasley hissed. "This is a hospital room! Please act your age!"

The three of them stopped, trembling with contained laughter as they reached Mr Weasley's bed.

"Hello!" The man called happily. "Bill just left, Molly, had to get back to work, but he says he'll drop in on you later..."

"How are you, Arthur? You're still looking a bit peaky..."

"I feel absolutely fine, if they could only take the bandages off, I'd be fit to go home."

"Why can't they take them off, Dad?" asked Fred.

"Well, I start bleeding like mad every time they try," Mr Weasley reached for his wand, and with one wave he conjured a couple of chairs for them to sit on. "It seems there was some rather unusual kind of poison in that snake's fangs that keeps wounds open... They're sure they'll find an antidote, though, they say they've had much worse cases than mine, and in the meantime, I just have to keep taking a Blood-Replenishing Potion every hour. But that fellow over there," He lowered his voice and pointed to the man in front of them. "Bitten by a werewolf, poor chap. No cure at all."

"A werewolf?" Mrs Weasley turned to look at the man with wide eyes. "Is he safe in a public ward? Shouldn't he be in a private room?"

"It's two weeks till full moon. They've been talking to him this morning, the Healers, you know, trying to persuade him he'll be able to lead an almost normal life. I said to him — didn't mention names, of course — but I said I knew a werewolf personally, very nice man, who finds the condition quite easy to manage..."

"What did he say?" asked George.

"Said he'd give me another bite if I didn't shut up. And that woman over there won't tell the Healers what bit her, which makes us all think it must have been something she was handling illegally. Whatever it was took a real chunk out of her leg, very nasty smell when they take off the dressings."

Mel's eyes stayed on the man laying ahead of them. The newborn werewolf, a man who was probably completely fine before being bitten. Was it really two weeks before the full moon? That wasn't ideal, she wanted to see her uncle, she was missing him lots already, and having half a week wasted because of his condition made her feel terribly for him.

"So, you going to tell us what happened, Dad?" asked Fred.

"Well, you already know, don't you? It's very simple — I'd had a very long day, dozed off, got sneaked up on, and bitten."

"Is it in the Prophet, you being attacked?" asked Fred.

"No, of course not, the Ministry wouldn't want everyone to know a dirty great serpent got —"

"Arthur!" said Mrs Weasley.

"— got — er — me," Mr Weasley finished.

"So where were you when it happened, Dad?" asked George.

"That's my business," said Mr Weasley calmly, "I was just reading about Willy Widdershins's arrest when you arrived. You know Willy turned out to be behind those regurgitating toilets last summer? One of his jinxes backfired, the toilet exploded, and they found him lying unconscious in the wreckage covered from head to foot in —"

"When you say you were 'on duty,'" Fred interrupted in a low voice, "what were you doing?"

"You heard your father," Mrs Weasley hissed, "we are not discussing this here! Go on about Willy Widdershins, Arthur —"

"Well, don't ask me how, but he actually got off on the toilet charge. I can only suppose gold changed hands —"

"You were guarding it, weren't you?" said George eagerly. "The weapon? The thing You-Know-Who's after?"

"George, be quiet!"

"Anyway," Mr Weasley continued like he hadn't been interrupted, "this time Willy's been caught selling biting doorknobs to Muggles, and I don't think he'll be able to worm his way out of it because according to this article, two Muggles have lost fingers and are now in St. Mungo's for emergency bone regrowth and memory modification. Just think of it, Muggles in St. Mungo's! I wonder which ward they're in?"

"Didn't you say You-Know-Who's got a snake, Harry?" asked Fred, glancing at his father anxiously. "A massive one? You saw it the night he returned, didn't you?"

"There's no need to talk about that night," Mel said roughly. The tone she used was enough to quiet the twin, but Mrs Weasley added more to it.

"That's enough! Mad-Eye and Tonks are outside, Arthur, they want to come and see you. And you lot can wait outside. You can come and say good-bye afterwards. Go on..."

Mel stood up and wished Mr Weasley as fast recovery, then she followed the rest of her friends back outside. Moody and Tonks went in, Fred spoke up.

"Fine, be like that. Don't tell us anything."

"Looking for these?" said George, holding out the extendable ears.

"You read my mind," Fred grinned. "Let's see if St. Mungo's puts Imperturbable Charms on its ward doors, shall we?"

They gave everyone an extendable ear, Harry's hand stopped midway, hesitant to follow through.

"Go on, Harry, take it! You saved Dad's life, if anyone's got the right to eavesdrop on him it's you..." George insisted.

"Okay, go!" Fred whispered once they were all seated.

"...they searched the whole area but they couldn't find the snake anywhere," She heard Tonks voice, "it just seems to have vanished after it attacked you, Arthur... But You-Know-Who can't have expected a snake to get in, can he?"

"I reckon he sent it as a lookout," Moody replied, " 'cause he's not had any luck so far, has he? No, I reckon he's trying to get a clearer picture of what he's facing and if Arthur hadn't been there the beast would've had much more time to look around. So Potter says he saw it all happen?"

"Yes," said Mrs Weasley. "You know, Dumbledore seems almost to have been waiting for Harry to see something like this..."

"Yeah, well," said Moody, "there's something funny about the Potter kid, we all know that."

"Dumbledore seemed worried about Harry when I spoke to him this morning," whispered Mrs Weasley. "He said Mel used legilimency and found nothing unusual, but he's not so sure."

"Legilimency?" Moody said in a tone of mild surprise. "A fifteen-year-old having control over that kind of magic? No wonder why You-Know-Who wants her on his side!"

Mel gasped and Ron was quick to cover her mouth. So that was it then, Voldemort didn't want to kill her, he wanted to use her.

"...The boy's seeing things from inside You-Know-Who's snake... Obviously, Potter doesn't realize what that means, but if You-Know-Who's possessing him —"

Harry jumped back, dropping the extendable ear and looking at his friends with wide eyes. Mel kept her gaze fixed on the door.

She wanted nothing else than to follow Harry's lead and hide in her room for the rest of the day, but as soon as she set a foot on the entrance hall, Ron caught her wrist and pulled her towards the twins' room, quickly followed by the rest of the young Weasleys.

"What?" She asked, though she already knew.

"You know what's going on," Ron said. "You knew Harry was ill before Neville had left the room, and you knew Umbridge was hurting him. Not only that, but you had the same bruises as Harry on the back of your hand!"

"How..?"

"Hermione saw it one day while you were still asleep," Ron confessed. "You have to tell us what's going on."

"I don't have the answers," She said tensely. "I can't tell if what they're saying it's true, I don't know if Harry's possessed."

"But you can tell other things, can't you?" Her friend insisted. "Last June, you had the same injuries as him in your arm, only that yours were bruises..."

She looked at the twins and Ginny, they were all staring at her. Now was as good as any other day, Harry didn't care about her telling them, but she had to be careful. Mel sat down on Fred's bed and told them everything.

Well, not everything. She began her story on the night of the third task, when the thin wall dividing her lifeline from Harry's broke apart. It was simple, really. They had been through so many near-death experiences together that the magic in their souls had merged, creating their strange connection.

Dumbledore had called it survival instincts, Harry's mind would look for her whenever he felt in danger, whether he wanted to or not. Not only that, but they were able to lend a bit of vital energy to each other if they were lacking some in a crucial moment.

The Weasleys listened with their mouths wide open, Ginny kept biting her nails, Ron looked awfully confused and would look at her and then the floor as if he could see Harry through it.

"That's why we fought," She said. "Harry doesn't want to force me to feel his pain. He thought that distance would help but I don't think we'll ever go back to normal. It didn't use to be this strong but ever since he fought Voldemort I feel more things now... I see more."

"But..." Ron frowned, trying to gather his thoughts. "But it's not you in his body, right? Or Harry in your body?"

"No..." Mel hesitated for a moment, then shook her head. "I stay in my body and he stays in his. I just... it's like dreaming. You feel things, but as soon as you wake up, it goes away."

"But you've been hurt before," Fred frowned. "Ron said it just now, you get bruises, and last night when we got here, your nose was bleeding—"

"Those were my fault—" She started, but Fred shook his head in disbelief.

"How's that your fault?"

"The bruises happened because I didn't ground myself," Mel said. "Harry was going through a lot... he was dying. I had to give in a little so he could come back. I had to let him take whatever he needed..."

Her friends gave her eery looks, she let out a tired sigh.

"I know how it sounds, but I promise this is not hurting me more than it hurts him. This thing goes both ways, if I were the one hurting, Harry would feel everything. He... he would've done the same for me. You know he would."

No one talked against her, still, Ron had lots of questions.

"What about last night?"

"Last night," Mel look down, fidgeting at the idea of having felt something else than just Harry, but not wanting to scare her friends. "I was weak– I used legilimency for the first time, it drained me. I couldn't push Harry's feelings away, I just buried them inside. Which was a mistake."

"What does that mean?" Ginny asked. "If... if it turns out he's possessed, what will that do to you?"

"He can't be," Mel sentenced, but her voice broke at the end.

"Have you felt anything strange?"

"I just feel Harry, even if he were struggling with something, I doubt I'd feel it. I only feel the things that belong to his soul."

"I don't get it," George frowned. "You saved his life last June and he blames you for the connection?"

"He doesn't blame her," Ginny rolled her eyes. "Harry's scared for her. You'd be terrified too if your best friend gets hurt every time you do. Harry probably freaked out when he found out he'd taken a bit of Mel's life. That sounds awful... But he would've done the same for you, and it was your choice anyway, I think you were brave for doing so."

"Maybe if you talk to Harry he'll understand," Ron offered.

Mel let out a bitter laugh.

"I've tried. As soon as he told me his idea— I've tried to tell him that this is not his fault. The best we can do is just ignore it and try to live normal lives."

"I don't think it'll fix it," Fred replied. "Things don't usually go away like that."

" I'm not saying I'll ignore it if he's in danger, you saw it last night, I was the first to arrive and help him. I like my new life, I like having more friends and I can't help but think that maybe..."

She stopped before saying 'I don't need him anymore', realizing it was something horrible to say.

"Maybe what?" Ron asked sharply, probably guessing what she wanted to say.

"Maybe it's time I stop treating Harry like a child and let him deal with this on his own. He keeps saying he can do it, so maybe I should listen."

"What if he can't, though?" Ginny asked. "What if they're right and... and he's..."

Mel got up. "I'm tired... can we please leave it?"

"But—"

"Sure," Fred stood up as well. "C'mon, we should help mum and Emily downstairs."

He shared one significant look with Mel, she wondered if he'd gotten a new revelation with this. Maybe he understood there was more to their agreement than just her wanting to get over a crush.

It was about wanting to escape from the constant reminder of being tied to someone against her will, someone who didn't want her around.

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

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[the-signs-of-two]

Do you think there are still hopes for season 5? A lot of articles claim that there is no future for sherlock holmes and that we should give up our hopes of season 5. Thoughts?

Ouf.

Tough one. And a long one to answer. But I want to be truthful and thorough.

Based purely on advertising and how keen people are to keep audiences invested, I don’t think they’re allowing us much hope. It’s been almost four years and they’ve done very little to maintain any kind of hype or interest, perhaps with the exception of keeping the escape room going. The sad truth of it is that a show will rarely get picked up for a new series if the majority of viewers have moved on. And they’ve done very little to keep their viewers excited about the prospect of a series 5.

Then, of course, there’s the elephant in the room, whether you’re a hardcore TJLC’er or a casual viewer: the fact that series 4, on a surface level, was just... not very good. It looks and feels disjointed and very different from the previous series and casual viewers don’t want to spend hours and hours trying to figure out if it was actually better than its surface narrative. That sort of thing - taking a long hiatus, hyping a new series by saying it’ll be television history and then delivering a somewhat lukewarm product - drives viewers away. And like I said, if most viewers no longer care, chances are it won’t be picked up for a new series.

That’s one way to look at it. But what about the actual story?

The show is called Sherlock. And I think, putting my Johnlock-glasses to the side, you could actually argue that Sherlock does come full circle. In series 1, Sherlock is driven almost entirely by his logic. He’s arrogant, cocky and he makes a show of being disdainful and unfeeling, even if you get small glimpses showing that that isn’t actually who he is. With every series, Sherlock has moved further away from that and become a softer, more emphatic version of himself - a version of himself who cares more about making his close ones happy than about making himself look cool and mysterious. Series 4 does seem to complete that narrative. They made Eurus into the synthesis of everything Sherlock was and tried to be in the beginning of the show and turned that against Sherlock - and I actually really like that. I think it works. When Sherlock says that they’re “experiencing science from the perspective of lab rats”, we’re reminded of the time when he would do something similar: when he would pretend to be Ian Monkford’s friend to get information from his wife, when he would scare/traumatise the already traumatised headmistress to get information on two missing children, when he would compliment Molly’s hair to convince her to show him two bodies. In each instance, it was to do good, to get ahead in a case, but it was also a coldly calculated piece of manipulation, one which Sherlock showed zero regret for. The way he acted in first couple of series hurt other people - sometimes you wouldn’t feel any remorse for them, but sometimes it was Sherlock’s closest. Let’s take the most obvious example: locking John in a lab after (as far as he knew) drugging him, then providing him with sound effects and watching what would happen on the monitors. Don’t you think John experienced science from the perspective of a lab rat then? Sherlock is a different person now, but TFP also forces him to come to terms with the consequences of his previous behaviour. He has to confront logical problems - kill one man or three men, kill one man or two people will die, save Molly’s life etc. - but he has to face the emotional consequences of those logical decisions. He can’t just look away as he used to do. Seen in that way, I actually think TFP does provide a poignant culmination of Sherlock’s character arc. When Lestrade says that Sherlock is now a good man rather than a great man, it does feel earned.

However. Then there’s... well, everyone else. I’m pretty sure I could tell you what John’s character arc was all about in HLV. If this is the end, I no longer know what his character arc was. John makes horrible decision upon horrible decision in series 4. A cynical reading would be that he’s “stupid for the plot”. They needed to drive a wedge between Sherlock and John for TLD, so they didn’t care that John’s decision to blame Sherlock for Mary’s death in TST makes absolutely no sense. Then there’s the morgue scene, which... To be fair, it has actually been foreshadowed that John is a violent person. That he has very bad aggression issues and that he deals with a lot of anger in a physical manner. Sherlock isn’t perfect, but John certainly isn’t either. And I actually think the morgue scene could work in that light. Hear me out. Sherlock has done bad things to John, he really has, and all those things have been in line with his character and a reflection of his flaws. John beating Sherlock up could work in the same way. But it HAS TO BE ADDRESSED. When Sherlock does something morally reprehensible and psychologically scarring, it’s not presented as acceptable. When Sherlock locks John in the lab, you FEEL that what he did was unacceptable. John calls him out for it and it’s discussed. And this happens a number of times and each time, Sherlock shows more and more regret for his actions. He begins to apologise. He begins to try to change. If the morgue scene is going to work as a low point in John’s morality which prompts him to feel regret and try to change, it needs to be presented that way. It needs to be presented as bad (it is), it needs to be presented as a low point (it is), but it also needs to be presented as unjustified, unacceptable and inexcusable. No matter how you feel, beating up your best friend is never okay. Just as no matter how badly you need to solve a case, experimenting on your best friend by subjecting him to a terror-indusing drug and locking him up to examine the effects is never okay. But John isn’t called out for this and it’s never discussed. That leaves John with no incentive to change, no moment of remorse and regret, no need to make amends. So, in a way, the series leaves him at his absolute lowest. Which isn’t a character arc, friends.

Then there’s Molly. After the most heartbreaking betrayal of all time, the series just... ends. Like, she’s there at the end and it’s all fine. The part where the man she loved told her to tell him that she loved him FOR AN EXPERIMENT and then she took the opportunity to make him say it in return, clinging on to those three words like her life depended on it... yeah, that happened, but he presumably told her that he had to do it and it was all fine. No lasting emotional damage or mistrust there.

You could argue that Mycroft does come full circle too. In TAB, he decides to relinquish control over Sherlock and instead tells John to take care of him in his place. In TFP, he goes all the way and decides to die to let John live. In doing so, he acknowledges that Sherlock needs John more than he needs Mycroft, but also that John is better for Sherlock than Mycroft ever was. After a lifetime of controlling and watching over Sherlock against his will, he finally decides to let Sherlock go live his own life and make his own decisions. And he proves his love by being prepared to die to give Sherlock happiness with John.

So... yeah. I think some character arcs did actually come full circle, while others definitely didn’t. I just took the most obvious examples here.

As a background story for the Holmes family, I don’t really think it works. To me, it doesn’t explain why Sherlock and Mycroft are the way they are - and it certainly is weird that their parents seem so normal and unconcerned about the whole thing. Buried trauma is definitely a thing, but there doesn’t seem to be any obvious correlation between what happened with Eurus and who Sherlock was at the beginning of the series. As for Mycroft... I honestly don’t know how he feels about Eurus, apart from the fact that he’s scared of her.

Then there’s the part where John flat out tells Sherlock that a romantic relationship would complete him as a human being. This goes completely unresolved. Are we meant to assume that Sherlock called Irene after this conversation and they got together? 1) Why should we assume this? And 2) effing straight culture, let him be gay, because he is.

To summarise... I don’t think TFP works as a conclusion. Some things are resolved, some are not. I think there’s so much story and plot left unresolved that a series 5 would definitely have story points to work with. Also, once you’ve said that a character needs a romantic relationship, you need to go through with that or it turns into a major hole in said character arc.

Getting a little more tinfoil hat-y, I think the television history, gut-punch moment could be a recreation of the circumstances around The Final Problem. The Final Problem seemingly finished the Sherlock Holmes stories by having Sherlock die. People were outraged and deeply upset. It took ten years for ACD to undo it and reveal that Sherlock had actually survived. Trying to recreate the atmosphere surrounding a beloved piece of literature in 1893 - that sort of thing has never been attempted before and would be television history. And in that light, it would make sense that they aren’t encouraging the rumours surrounding series 5. They need to make people think that Sherlock is “dead” if they are going to resurrect him. That’s the tinfoil hat speaking, but I can’t help but find it an intriguing idea. And I would be DOWN.

Still, they didn’t need to make series 4 bad for this to work. They could have just made it end sadly. Series 4 being bad and difficult to understand lost them a lot of viewers. And sadly, viewers are what make shows happen. In that sense, I think it could backfire very severely if that is their plan.

So there you have it. I haven’t lost hope. I think there’s still story and plot and characters that would make series 5 worth making. And of course I’ve only discussed surface narratives in this post. If some of the theories proposed by us (EMP) should turn out to be correct, it could fix a lot of the problems with series 4 and make for a fantastic gut-punch moment in series 5. But I will admit that I’m concerned it won’t be greenlit because people have lost interest. If it’s no longer likely to have a large audience because series 4 was bad, they may not be able to make it even if that was their original intent. Or they may need to really amp up the hype when and if they make series 5.

I hope this long ramble answered your question.