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juniperwindsong · 4 years

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In Love & War (1/3)

Look. I could apologise for interrupting my WIP with an entirely too long, three-part Felix x Talbott x Reader Insert love triangle set post-Hogwarts (somewhere in HP Book 5) and featuring some minor adult situations (all Tumblr appropriate), but I’d be lying to all of us. I’m not sorry. This is literally the most fun I’ve had all quarantine.

Part 1: Dépaysement

The sound of curtains being drawn wakes you. Light pierces the back of your eyelids and you squeeze them tight. Your dream was uneasy, but you aren't ready to leave it just yet. You were looking for someone, someone calling your name. The face dissolves in the last dregs of ebbing sleep. You're sure you know it from somewhere...the name is just on the tip of your tongue...

"Good morning," murmurs a husky voice near your ear. Soft lips, curved in a smile, tickle your jawline, making you shiver. For a moment, the voice occupies the same space in reality as the face from the dream, a place for things familiar, but momentarily forgotten.

You open your eyes. The eyes that stare back are a deep brown, almost black. The sharp, pale face behind them is so close the snub nose nearly touches yours. Your mind searches for identity through a drowsy haze. A name swims to the surface.

"Felix?" you ask tentatively, voice hoarse with sleep.

The brown eyes ignite in pleasure at hearing their name. The man - Felix, your mind reminds you - brushes hair away from your face. He leans closer, eyes on your lips, but you tilt your head away before he can reach you. You're not sure why. It's an instinct, not a decision.

Felix freezes for a moment. Then he smirks, ever so slightly. It's a delicious expression on him, and you shiver again.

"Why so shy this morning?" he asks, stroking your cheek with the back of his fingers. Your eyes flutter shut at the sweet sensation.

Why does your head feel so strange? You try to recall where you are and why you're here...but the memories float just out of reach. When you re-open your eyes, Felix is watching you closely. There’s something like worry in his face.

"I don’t know," you answer honestly. "My head feels...strange. I'm...not sure who I am this morning."

It sounds like madness when said aloud. You tug your mouth into a grin, hoping to pass your odd remark off as a joke. You’re relieved when Felix’s smirk widens.

"Champagne clearly does not agree with you."

Felix leans forward again, and this time you stay put. You let his lips meet yours in a lazy, warm kiss that he deepens into something breathtaking. It does nothing to help your befuddled brain, but your body is certainly awake now. It, at least, seems to know exactly where it is. And what it wants. Felix drags his lips from yours to trail open kisses up your jaw toward your ear.

“You're Y/N Rosier," he murmurs between kisses. "You’re my wife. You're in our home. And you're safe.”

At these words, memories stir to life. You remember those same rich brown eyes standing in front of an altar, laying out in warm sand near lapping waves. Your wedding, your honeymoon in France. How could you have forgotten? The memories are there in your head, as real as print in a book, and yet they have a dream-like quality to them. Perhaps you are still dreaming, you think, as Felix’s fingers run through your hair. Or perhaps you simply drank too much last night.

"Are you alright?” There’s definite concern in Felix's voice now.

“Of course,” you assure him. You reach up to tuck stray hair back into place where it's fallen across his forehead. “Sometimes I just wake up with you and it feels like the very first time.”

Felix’s shoulders relax, and a genuine smile graces his sharp features. His eyes glow with an almost childlike joy. A pleasant lurch in your stomach reminds you you’ve seen this face before. It’s the face you always want to inspire in him. The face you love.

"Well, I suppose that's appropriate for our first morning here." Felix sits up, glancing around the sunlit room. "I do miss France but I must say, it's nice to finally wake up in our own home." He slips from the bed and disappears behind a nearby door.

You push yourself up as well, taking in the enormous four poster bed, the walls covered in austere tapestries, the wide windows overlooking a gloomy English landscape.

"Our own home," you echo. Nothing has ever looked less like home to you.

Felix's voice carries from the adjoining room. "I know it wasn't exactly your first choice, but I still think it's the best place for us right now. It's closer to the Ministry, and its wards are ancient, very safe. And my mother is perfectly comfortable at the French estate. I know it's larger than what you're used to, but-"

You let Felix's voice drift in one ear and out the other. You swing your legs over the side of the bed and test your feet against the ground. Your limbs don’t seem to be afflicted with the same wobbling uncertainty as your mind. They support you just fine as you slide to a floor as icy cold as it looks. The entire room is chilly you realise now you’ve left the warmth of the bed.

You glance around for clothes. The floor is bare except for heavy rugs, and the chaise lounge by the empty fireplace does not look as if it's ever tolerated any such indignity as clothes being tossed across it. You notice a dress form standing nearby, an emerald dressing gown hanging neatly upon it. You pull it on and note how perfectly it fits. It must be yours, though the colour and material strike no familiar chords.

Behind the dress form is another door, slightly ajar. When you push it open, you find a small chamber filled with a stunning assortment of robes; every-day robes in every conceivable colour and style, expensive dress-robes, even a small section of well-made muggle clothes. You can tell just by looking each item is tailored to your specifications. You wrack your muddled brain for memories of picking them out or purchasing them, but nothing comes to mind.

"Y/N?"

Felix’s voice is nearby once more, and you step back into the bedroom. Felix is waiting for you, dressed in immaculate black. You stare at him blankly, trying to remember what he was saying before you became distracted.

"Look,” Felix sighs, coming to stand next to you and taking your shoulders. “If you truly detest it here, we can find something else soon. I just-"

"No." You shake your head. "No, you're right. I'm sure I'll get used to it. It's just...new."

You glance back at the dressing room.

"Where did I buy all those robes, do you remember?” you ask as casually as possible. “I can’t quite recall."

Felix raises his eyebrows. He places the back of one hand against your forehead.

"Remind me to make a note of last night's vintage. It was clearly far too powerful for you."

You roll your eyes and swat his arm playfully. Felix catches your hand and brings it to his lips. He kisses your fingers slowly, lips lingering exquisitely over each knuckle, as if he'd rather do nothing else all morning. Another heady rush of sensation thrills you. Standing becomes as hard as thinking. You sway slightly, but Felix wraps an arm around your waist to draw you against him.

"Are you sure you'll be alright for the day? Perhaps I should stay... I could send an owl to-"

"Of course I'll be alright," you assure him quickly. "Where are you going?"

"To meet the Dark Lord, of course. Then the office.”

"What?"

“You know I'd much rather be here, but I really ought not to leave it any longer. I haven’t sent an owl since we first arrived in France and I’m sure the department’s in shambles without me. ”

“No, I mean... what do you mean about the Dark Lord?”

For the first time this morning, it isn't confusion driving your question, but alarm. This is a name you have no trouble remembering. Events of the last year rise to the fore front of your mind. The return of the Dark Lord after the Tri-wizard tournament; the Ministry's refusal to acknowledge his return; Professor Dumbledore summoning you and others to a secret meeting of the Order of the Phoenix.

"Our honeymoon is over and I swore I'd report in for instruction as soon as I was back in the country, which technically should have been last night, but..."

"Felix... the Dark Lord...you can't seriously... you're not joining him?"

Felix sighs, dropping your hand and rubbing the bridge of his nose in frustration.

"Y/N, please don't start this again. I know your concerns, but we've discussed this. He's coming to power, whether we like it or not, and this is the only way to ensure your safety.”

“But...” You struggle to form a coherent argument around the fog in your brain. You can’t remember having such an important discussion before. How could Felix have talked you into supporting something like this?

“What about the Order of the Phoenix? Why can’t we join them? Why haven’t we joined them?” you ask, wondering how this has never come up. You remember that meeting in Dumbledore's office...was it months ago? Or longer? The Weasley's had been there...you can see Bill's face clearly. Other faces lurk in the background of your memory, hidden in shadow.

“Y/N, we’ve already been through this,” Felix says in mounting frustration. “They won’t permit me to join. My father was a Death Eater. They don’t trust me. And even if they were to make an exception, we would be more of a target for the Dark Lord then. He would never forgive a betrayal like that. The Death Eaters aren't a club you can just quit. My father was one, and that means I'm expected to be as well. If I refused, he would stop at nothing to find me, or find you first to punish me. I thought you understood.”

Felix looks so pained, you stumble over your own further protests. You raise a hand to his face, stroking your thumb over his sharp cheek. Felix leans into your palm. His eyes are shut tightly against some inner battle you cannot see.

“Felix. I just...don’t want you to get hurt.

Felix takes a shuddering breath and meets your eyes again, his expression grim.

“I don’t want you to be hurt. And as long as we’re on the winning side, we won’t be. I know you don’t like it, and it isn't what I would prefer, but it's not up to us. All we can do is stay safe until this war is over.” He leans down to kiss you, a gentle apology of a kiss. “I’m sorry it’s like this. But things will clear up soon. Once the Dark Lord has the Ministry, he'll have other things on his mind. We can go back to France, or anywhere you like. I promise."

The sound of a clock chiming somewhere in the house makes Felix look up.

“I have to go. I’ll get away as soon as I can.” He catches your chin in his hand, tilting it up to face him. His eyes burn with something that turns your bones to water. "I love you," he says. It's more than a platitude or a reminder. It’s almost an oath.

"I...love you too," you say. You must. Why else would you be here?

Once Felix is gone, you sit back on the bed, clutching your head in your hands. You rap your knuckles against your skull, trying to knock whatever's come loose back into place. What's wrong with you? Why is your memory all bits and pieces? Drink, you suppose, combined with a whirlwind few months. Maybe this happens to everyone just arrived from their honeymoon. Perhaps a solid course of action will help put you back together.

The Rosier manor doesn't seem like the sort of house made for walking about in one’s bare feet, so you return to the dressing room and inspect your options. You choose the simplest robes you can find. They feel strange on you, in spite of the perfect fit. After washing and dressing, you stare at yourself in the full length mirror. It's you, and yet somehow, your own reflection looks unfamiliar. Well, you suppose, in many ways you are a new person. You're Mrs Rosier now. That thought inspires confidence in you. You stand up straighter and take a steadying breath. This is your home, and your first order of business should be to explore it.

You spend the morning wandering the manor. You start to count the rooms, but lose track somewhere on the third floor. There's bedrooms and bathrooms, libraries and studies, and some rooms with no discernible purpose at all. You inspect the conservatory and the solarium, and briefly consider tackling the expansive grounds before your growling stomach urges you to find the kitchen. You discover it in a ground floor dining room, hidden behind a door almost indistinguishable from the surrounding wall.

The kitchen is a bright, spacious room, full of high windows that allow more sunlight to drift in than in the rest of the house. The familiar sounds of pots and pans scrubbing themselves at a sink and a pot bubbling over the fire go a long way to cheering your uneasy spirit.

"Madam is wanting something?"

You look down to find a small, elderly house-elf dressed in an assortment of elaborately tied linen dinner napkins.

"Oh! Yes, please. Breakfast would be lovely. Or lunch. I'm not sure of the time."

'"Miam-Miam is making a luncheon for Madam, certainly. What is Madam wishing to eat?"

"Oh, anything's fine. And, um, you can just call me Y/N. Madam sounds....a bit formal."

The house-elf purses her tiny lips in obvious disapproval.

"Is Madam wishing to be served in the breakfast room or the upstairs dining room?" she asks stiffly, managing to stress the word Madam just enough for you to notice.

"Actually, could I just eat here, please?"

You ask the question politely enough but don't bother to wait for a reply before seating yourself in a chair at the wooden butcher's table. The house-elf’s mouth works soundlessly. You can see her desire to maintain the house's strict traditions going to war with her need to defer to her masters.

"I won't tell anyone, I promise," you say to the elf.

Miam-Miam's face is pinched and unhappy, but in the end, she returns to the pot over the fire, murmuring under her breath in French.You feel a little guilty for putting the elf in this position, but something about the kitchen feels more inviting than any other part of the house, and you don’t want to leave it just yet. You wonder why this room is uninfected by the dream-like quality that’s pervaded the rest of your morning. Perhaps kitchens in general are just comforting, you think. You lay your forehead against the table and revel in its wonderful solidness.

"Madam is feeling ill?"

Miam-Miam is back. The narrow squint of her large round eyes is more suspicious than concerned.

"I'm alright. Just can't seem to find my head this morning."

The house-elf wrinkles her tomato-like nose. "Miam-Miam is not understanding. Is Madam having headache? Miam-Miam would be making a potion for headache, but Miam-Miam is not having the ingredients. If Madam is permitting Miam-Miam to visit Diagon Alley-"

You lift your head, inspired.

"That's a wonderful idea! I think I'll pop down to Diagon Alley for a bit."

You expect some push back from the old-fashioned elf at the idea of Madam doing the servant's shopping, but you're surprised when her eyes widen in horror.

"No, Madam must not! The Master will not be liking it! Miam-Miam is going. Madam must stay in the house where it is safe."

"What's unsafe about Diagon Alley?"

Miam-Miam is unable to offer any specific dangers, only continues to shake her head and repeat: "Master will not be liking it."

"Master will be fine," you say firmly. The decision made, you stand and glance toward the fireplace. Sure enough, there's a small glass jar on the mantle containing the household floo powder. You walk to the fire and use your wand to lift the hot, heavy pot out of the way. Miam-Miam hovers just behind you, protesting all the while.

"Please, Madam, please. Master is not liking you to go!"

You ignore the elf, and toss floo powder onto the fire. As you step into the flames, you turn to reassure the poor house-elf, now wringing her dinner napkin dress in distress.

"Don't worry, Miam-Miam. I'll be back in a bit. Diagon Alley!"

Wandering the streets you've known all your life does wonders for your sense of self. As you glance into stalls and shop windows, memories hail you like familiar friends: meeting Rowan for the first time; buying your first wand, and then your second; lurking in Flourish and Blotts whenever you could to search for messages from your brother. You even remember where to find the sneaky little niffler that lurks outside the bank. You used to drop him galleons whenever you passed just to see him creep out and snatch them when he thought no one was watching.

You lean against the brick wall beside the niffler's hideaway and close your eyes. You breathe in the familiar air and let your mind put all the memories together in the right order, like puzzle pieces, until they begin to form a complete picture. You came here often with friends when you were at school, and even after. Scattered images of laughing and eating with people fit comfortably in your head, though the faces are still dim and shadowy. There’s Rowan for sure, you can picture her clearly, but who else? Felix? That seems right. You can picture Felix's face smiling at you outside Flourish and Blotts...you see him take your hand across a café table - where you met him again for the first time after graduating Hogwarts!

You open your eyes, searching for the café to inspire the rest of the memory, when you catch sight of someone watching you from a doorway.

At first, all you can see are his eyes. Behind the eyes, you're dimly aware of a face with a long, sharp nose, and dark skin with strangely layered hair. But it's the eyes that command your attention. They’re a hazel that's nearly yellow, flecked with gold, as piercing as a blade but with an ocean of depth beneath.

You realise you're staring, and you blush. You look away, feigning interest in a stall of bats. It's a minute before you feel brave enough to look at the doorway again.

The man is still there. And there can be no mistaking it this time: he's staring at you as well with those intense yellow-gold eyes, his mouth very slightly open. He must see you looking back at him, but he doesn't turn away. Doesn't move at all. He stands, alert and tense, like a bird of prey that's sighted a mouse. You suddenly remember Miam-Miam's warnings about Diagon Alley being unsafe.

But you're Mrs Felix Rosier, you remind yourself proudly. And before that you were the Hogwarts Cursebreaker. You pull yourself up to full height and step into the street, walking confidently toward the strange eyes and the man behind them.

"Can I help you?" you ask as soon as you're within hearing distance.

The man continues to stare. He blinks once, his head cocked very slightly to the side. Then he says your name. It’s quiet, but his voice carries across to you easily, stopping you in your tracks. You know that voice...You can't place it, but you're so sure. It's just on the tip of your tongue...

"Who -" you begin to ask, when someone else calls your name from behind. This one you recognise instantly. You turn to see Felix almost sprinting down the street toward you. He grabs your arms and pulls you against him, staring wildly about as if expecting a barrage of curses from every direction.

"What are you doing here? Are you alright?" he asks in a low, fierce voice.

"What? I'm fine."

You turn back to look at the place where the man had been, but he's gone. You glance hurriedly around at the milling crowds of people, in the windows of nearby shops, down the alley's side streets. But those yellow-gold eyes are nowhere to be seen.

"What is it?" asks Felix sharply.

"There was someone there just a moment ago. He was watching me."

"He?" Felix repeats, his voice heavy with panic. "Who? Who was it?"

"I don't know. I thought I recongised him, but...I'm not sure."

"Did he speak to you?" Felix's grip on your arm tightens until you're forced to yank it away.

"No! Felix, what's wrong?"

Felix's eyes sweep the street once more. He runs a hand across his hair distractedly, smoothing it flat and trying to regain some of his usual calm.

"Nothing," he says. His voice is entirely unconvincing. "Come, let's get you home."

Part of you wants to argue. You feel so much more comfortable here. You're not quite ready to go back to the manor and all it's strange surreality. But Felix's obvious alarm worries you, and you don't want to fight him when he's in this state.

The two of you apparate together back to the Rosier property. Felix doesn't speak the entire walk to the manor house. You shoot occasional sideways glances at him, but he doesn't seem to notice. His eyes are agitated and far away. Once you’re safely inside, Felix stops in the front hall and faces you.

"Why?" he asks simply.

"Why what?"

"Why did you leave? I came back and found you gone, do you have any idea how worried I was?"

His voice is loud and strained, just short of yelling. Your own temper flares within you.

"I'm sorry," you say, crossing your arms. "I didn't know a requirement of marriage was staying inside the house all day waiting for my husband."

"It's a requirement of keeping you safe," Felix snaps back.

"What am I in danger of?" you cry in exasperation. "You know I've survived dragons and curses and assassins, right? What in Merlin's name is lurking in Diagon Alley that's so much worse than all of that?”

Instead of rising to a fight, Felix's anger fizzles out. His whole demeanor seems to crumple under your biting words, and he looks down at the floor in something like defeat. Guilt builds like bile in the back of your throat. It hurts you to see Felix so despondent. You close the distance between you and reach up to fix his wilting hair. There's no sarcasm in your apology this time.

"I’m sorry. I wasn't trying to worry you. I just don't understand what you're so worried about."

Felix's reply is to pull you closer, clutching you to his chest with desperate arms. You can feel his heart beating frantically. You take deep, slow breaths, hoping to infuse him with your own calm. When you look up, his eyes are swimming with some fragile emotion you don't understand.

"Y/N, our world is impossibly dangerous right now. I know you've fought more than your share of battles, but this is different. Anyone... everyone you know...even your friends, could be out to hurt you now. Because of me." He strokes the shell of your ear with his thumb. "I'm so sorry. You’re married to a man with enemies. And there's no way for us to know who to trust. Please, for my sake, just stay here where it's safe."

"For how long?”

“I don't know," Felix sighs. "The Dark Lord does not confide his plans in anyone, but I doubt it will take long. And once he's in power, things will be different."

This isn’t a answer to inspire much comfort in you, and you turn away. Your head is bursting with questions and fragments of memories, none of which make sense. Why would you ever have agreed to this? It doesn’t sound like you at all. Trapped inside this enormous house, unable to do anything useful, and somehow on the side of Death Eaters?

You look back at Felix, an argument on your tongue. But before you can say anything, Felix’s lips find yours. It's a needy, starving kiss, as though it were years since your last instead of only this morning. His hands slide down your back, frame your waist, caress your hips, easing your body forward until you're flush against his. You can't help it. You melt against him, stroking the muscle of his chest through his robes. For the first time that day, you feel truly and perfectly alive.

And you think, this must be why.

Life in the Rosier manor takes some adjustment, but after a few days you settle into a routine. You breakfast late and spend a leisurely morning reading and relaxing on the upstairs terrace. Then there’s lunch, and a long walk about the grounds. The estate is massive, and you take your time exploring every inch of it. The elaborate hedge maze is a particular favourite. You spend three days attempting to map it before you realise it changes on its own at random intervals, making it impossible to solve.

But by far the best part of your married life is your new husband.

Felix escapes his ministry job to be with you as often as he can. Many mornings, he leaves for work late, having chosen a blissful lie-in with you instead. He sneaks home to lunch with you almost every day, and he's back at half-six each evening like clockwork. While home, he's never absent from your side.

Felix takes pride in showing you the Rosier Manor’s many secret passages and hidden rooms. He instructs you in French, when you mention off-hand a desire to learn. And after discovering it was always a childhood wish of his, you teach him to play the old, dusty piano in the music room. Your evenings are filled with music and dance, and your nights are always long and sleepless. Even quiet afternoons spent reading in the library, you often catch Felix watching you subtly over the top of his book, as though worried you might disappear.

It's moments like these in which you understand your decision to stay here, to marry a man in service to the most feared dark wizard in modern history. The thought that your husband is a Death Eater still churns your stomach, and you spend much of your alone time formulating careful arguments and plans of escape. But these always end with a wretched Felix, close to tears, terrified that flight will mean your death. No matter what you say, you're unable to convince him otherwise.

Occasionally, you try plotting out the sequence of events that led to your marriage, but your memories continue to be elusive. You remember a good many dinners and outings with Felix. You think they took place before your French honeymoon, but it's hard to place them in time exactly. You wonder whether you ought to mention this to Felix. In the end, you decide against it. Madness is a reputation you’ve fought for so many years, and the stigma of it still haunts you. Felix is the last person you want to look at you with that mixture of pity and wariness you've seen from so many others.

There's one memory, however, that refuses to fade: those yellow-gold eyes from Diagon Alley. For some reason, your dreams are constantly haunted by the image of this man and his simple utterance of your name. His eyes stir something to life inside you, a deep, slumbering something you don't understand or cannot remember. It isn't exactly a pleasant feeling, and when you wake from these dreams you snuggle closer to Felix, letting his warm, solid arms anchor you to reality. But you cannot keep from wondering who the man behind the yellow eyes is. You're sure you've seen him somewhere, though where continues to elude you.

You're mulling this very question over in the garden one day when a noise from behind makes you jump. Animals are rare on the grounds, and Felix is never one to creep up behind you unawares. You draw your wand instinctively, turning to face the sound. You nearly drop it when you watch those same piercing eyes and the dark-skinned man who owns them step out from behind a willowy tree.

For a moment, neither of you move. You know you ought to feel fear. This is obviously the danger Felix has warned you about. No one who's a friend sneaks onto one’s property unannounced. But even as you point your wand at the man’s face, you find yourself lost in his yellow-gold eyes. There's something almost frantic in them, like a person trapped behind glass screaming words you cannot hear.

You lower your wand without thinking. In spite of Felix's warnings, you can’t bring yourself to feel afraid. Your mind may be confused, but every other part of you is convinced this man means you no harm.

"Who are you?" you ask. "What do you want?"

The man doesn't answer. He only stares. The intensity of his eyes is difficult to look at directly and you drop your gaze to his bony neck instead.

"Are you here to kill me?"

That shakes the man from his silence. The yellow-gold eyes widen a little before he answers, "Is that what he told you?"

"Who?" you ask in confusion. "My husband?"

The man's whole face twists momentarily in an expression of disgust. His features straighten quickly, inscrutable once more, except for the eyes which seem to be pleading with you for something.

"You don't know me." It's a statement, not a question. But the more he talks, the more you're sure this can’t be true.

"Should I?"

"Yes."

There's a pause in which you wrack your brain desperately for a memory you’re sure is hidden somewhere, but you cannot find it. You're forced to shake your head apologetically. “I'm sorry. I don't."

The man shuffles his feet as if uncomfortable with this answer. “We were...at school together,” he says.

Armed with this bit of information, you cast your mind back to your school years. You search for those eyes in classes, Quidditch matches, cursed vaults. They’re nowhere to be found. But perhaps that’s not so unusual.

"School was so long ago,” you say, “and so much has happened since then. I don't know how much you know about me, but school wasn't exactly the happiest time of my life. I guess I've tried to put all those memories behind me.”

The man says nothing. He blinks those molten eyes and stares. His fingers twitch as if itching to wrap around something. You tighten your hold on your wand again, but he makes no other move. He seems to be trapped in indecision. And despite being an intruder in your home, there's some instinct urging you to soothe the man’s obvious distress.

What's your name?" you ask gently.

A look of deepest pain crosses the man’s face, as if he's bleeding from a wound you cannot see. It makes your heart ache for some reason.

"Talbott Winger," he answers.

There's a strange upset in your perception. The garden around you seems to shimmer as if it were really a backdrop you could rip away to reveal a more substantial world behind it. You can no longer feel the ground underneath your feet. You wonder if you're falling or floating. Your head swims with nausea. From far away, you hear someone call your name. You wonder where they are, where you are, and how you can get to them.

Then you feel hands on your face. They anchor your mind to your body once more. You're aware of your back lying against hard ground, and a throbbing pain in the side of your head. You realise your eyes are closed. You open them.

Brown eyes stare back at you in fear, and you feel a quick pang of disappointment. For some reason, you expected them to be yellow-gold. But it's Felix. He lifts you gently until you're sitting upright. You're still in the garden, only the sky is darkening. You stare about you for the man - Talbott, your brain now promptly supplies - but see no one else.

“Y/N!"

You only realise Felix has been speaking when he calls your name again. His voice is trembling.

"What's wrong?" you ask.

"What’s wrong? That's what I'm asking you! How long have you been out here? What happened?"

"I was...walking and... I don't know. My head hurt and I... I fell, I guess."

For some reason, you think it's best not to mention Talbott Winger yet. You know how worried Felix will be, and there’s no reason to upset him until you discover what Talbott wants. You think - or perhaps, you hope - you’ll see those yellow-gold eyes again soon.

For several days, you’re disappointed. You now spend all your mornings and most of the afternoons out on the grounds. You return regularly to the tree in the garden where you saw him last. But Talbott Winger does not re-appear. Sometimes you worry the encounter was a dream, your grip on reality being so tenuous these days. Only, somehow, apart from Felix, those yellow-gold eyes are the closest thing you have to a solid, reliable memory.

You're forced to wait a full week before you see them again. You’re in the kitchen one evening instructing Felix in the art of rolling an even pie crust. You’ve finally bullied Miam-Miam into relinquishing the dinner preparations just this once, and Felix, exceptionally amused, has agreed to be your sous-chef.

“You’re sure I’m doing this properly?” he asks with a wry grin.

The sight of your typically decorous husband, shirt sleeves tucked up to his elbows and flour dusting the tip of his nose, makes your heart soar. You live for these sweet moments; where the world contains only the two of you, with no thoughts to spare for the war raging outside. You smile, and lean across the table towards Felix. There’s just enough time for your lips to meet in the promise of a kiss when the sound of the front door bell reverberates through the house.

Miam-Miam rises hastily from her little stool by the fire, but Felix stops her before she can reach the kitchen door.

“No. Let me.” He wipes his hands quickly on a dish towel and strides past the sullenly-still elf. You follow him to the door, but Felix shakes his head.

“Wait here,” he commands. Catching sight of your raised eyebrows, he adds, “Please. Let me see who it is.” Felix doesn’t wait for you to agree. He slips out the door and pulls it shut tightly behind him. You listen to his footsteps walking away. You count to ten, then follow anyway.

Miam-Miam’s echoing protests make it difficult to hear the conversation floating down the hall from the front door. You think you can make out two distinct voices. You walk through the dining room and approach the front hall as quietly as possible. Scattered words in Felix's most imperious tone reach your ear.

"It's over...safe now...nothing you can do."

You hesitate, uncertain whether to risk the hall where very little furniture exists to hide behind. Then the other voice speaks, loud enough to be clearly heard, "...don't care about her safety..." and your heart leaps in your chest as you recognise it.

"Don't you dare!" Felix snarls. You've never heard him so furious before. You hesitate briefly, but your desire to see the visitor, to be sure it's who you think, is overpowering. Cautiously, you tiptoe into the hallway. The other voice is a low, venomous hiss now. You have to strain your ears to catch the words.

"...away with this. I won't let you."

"Is that a threat?" Felix asks.

"It's a promise."

Felix starts to push the heavy front door closed and you throw caution to the wind. You run the last few steps forward just in time to see yellow-gold eyes on fire with fury, before the door slams shut on them.

Felix spins around quickly, startled by your sudden approach.

"Who was that?" you ask before he can get a word out. You fully expect Felix to be frustrated, even angry with you for refusing to stay safely in the kitchen. Instead, he blushes brick red. He runs a quick hand across his hair, as though you've caught him doing something shameful.

“No one.”

You cross your arms, arch one eyebrow and say, "Felix," with all the skepticism such a ridiculous answer deserves. Felix has the decency to look abashed, but still refuses to speak. He looks so lost you can't help but sigh and come to his rescue. You take his hand and squeeze it in support.

“Felix," you repeat more gently. "Tell me what’s going on. Who is that man? What does he want?”

Felix presses your hand to his face, drawing strength from your touch. He keeps his eyes closed as he answers, “Just...someone from the ministry. An auror. He doesn’t...like me. But he shouldn’t have followed me home." Felix exhales forcefully, then opens his eyes. "I'm sorry. It won't happen again." He twines his fingers between yours and tries to lead you back down the hallway. "Whatever happened to dinner?" he asks, in a voice laden with false cheer.

You're not remotely convinced that's all there is to it, and you're determined not to let the issue go. But you decide to wait until Felix is in better spirits before you demand answers. You return to the kitchen. Felix makes an attempt to recapture the light-hearted mood from before the unwelcome visitor. But his smile is more like a grimace. And more than once you catch him staring into space, lost in troubled thoughts he refuses to share.

That night you take particular care with Felix. You trail delicate kisses down his jawline, tracing his throat, his jutting collarbone. Your every movement is slow and measured as you follow the thin path of dark hair leading you from his chest to his abdomen. You assure him of your love using your lips and your tongue and the heat of your mouth. When you're finished, you crawl back up his body and rest against his still heaving chest, waiting for his heart rate to settle.

"Y/N," he pants.

"Felix."

"You know I love you?"

You smile against his skin. "So I've heard."

Felix rolls to his side so you slide off his chest and into his arms. He cups your cheek. It's hard to make out his eyes in the dark, but his voice is pleading.

"I know how hard all of this is for you. But you know it's because I want you to be safe. Because I love you. Our world is such a mess right now, and the thought of you caught up in it...running for your life, or hurt, or..." He swallows the next word. "I can't bear it."

You stroke the back of his hand where it holds your face. His touch is light, as if he thinks you might crack under his fingers. Felix is always so careful with you. It touches the part of you burdened by years of fighting battles for others with so little help or thought for your well-being. But you're not as delicate as he thinks.

"I understand," you assure him. "But you know, if you want me to trust you, you have to trust me. I'm not exactly incapable. I know it's a been a while, but I did manage to survive seven years worth of curses and monsters and Merula Snyde."

Felix rests his forehead against yours with a quiet chuckle.

"I know."

"So trust me."

"I do."

You take a deep breath and steel yourself to ask your burning question.

"Then...who is Talbott Winger?"

"What?"

Felix jerks away startled. Even in the darkness, you can see heat rising in his cheeks.

"That man who keeps coming by here. I know that's his name. Who is he?"

"Keeps coming by..." Felix repeats. He pushes himself up, and you follow, concerned at his change in demeanor. "Has he been here before? What did he say to you? Did he try to-to-"

You cut off his increasingly hysterical questions with a hand to his shoulder. "It's alright. I was fine. He just - he was here last week, out on the grounds. He wouldn't say what he wanted. He mentioned that we went to school together, but I don't remember him at all. Though I feel as though I should."

Felix's relief is palpable. His shoulders collapse in a slow, heavy exhalation. He pushes hair back from his forehead.

"There's no reason for you to. You can't be expected to remember everyone you went to school with. You had so many friends, and he was never exactly popular."

"So, you remember him?" you ask. Your own heart is now pounding with excitement; you're not sure why.

"Yes," Felix admits. "He was one of those that never trusted Slytherins. He had quite a grudge against anyone with the remotest Death Eater affiliation. It's only become worse now he's an auror. He's sure I know something about the Dark Lord's return, he follows me constantly. I wouldn't put it past him to try to force information from you."

"But I don't know anything -"

"I know that. But he doesn't. He's not your friend, Y/N, no matter what he says. That's why it's so important for you to stay here."

You bristle at the implication. "Do you need me to repeat my CV? I think I can handle one auror on my own just fine."

For some reason this inspires a smile in Felix.

"I don't doubt it."

He falls back against the pillow, pulling you down with him into a kiss, long and comforting. You can feel Felix relax beneath your lips. You come up for air and he murmurs, "Promise me, if you see him again, you'll stun first and ask questions later."

You hesitate for a moment, hovering over Felix's parted, eager mouth. You can't argue with his words, but you can't discount your instinct about Talbott either: that he wants something from you, and it isn't to hurt you. You know Felix won't understand this, so you make the only promise you know you can keep.

"I promise....I'll be careful."

You know your promise will be put to the test, but you still aren't prepared for Talbott to appear again only the following morning. You're sipping coffee on the terrace when a shadow blocks the sunlight briefly. You jump up in shock, coffee shaking in your hand, as an eagle lands hard on the railing. And when the bird abruptly transforms into the yellow-eyes and dark skin of Talbott Winger, you nearly drop the cup altogether.

"Y/N," says Talbott. His voice is strained and urgent, but you're too preoccupied to consider why.

"You're...a bird?" you ask with wide eyes. You're certainly surprised, but your mind doesn't seem about to collapse in on itself the way it had when he told you his name.

"An animagus," Talbott explains. His eyes dart nervously. "Look, I haven't much time. We need to talk, but we can’t do it here. Can you get away if you need to?"

"Excuse me?" You pull your dressing gown about you, trying to muster up a bit of dignity. "I don't think you're in a position to-"

"Can you get away?" Talbott repeats, talking over you. "Or does he have you trapped here?"

"I'm not trapped," you answer heatedly. "I'm here because it's safe. It's...dangerous right now." You echo Felix's words, trying to ignore how childish they sound.

"Then meet me here." Talbott thrusts a scrap of parchment forward, keeping as much distance between you as he can. You have to stretch out your arm to reach it. "Make sure you're not followed."

You gape at him. His nervous tension is so different from the still, silent Talbott you've been carrying about in your memory. It's almost harder to adjust to than the idea of him as a bird. You know you should be asking more questions, demanding answers, or simply stunning this blatant intruder. But the same strange feeling of familiarity that stopped your hand before prevents you taking any such action. You merely stare, waiting for your slow-working brain to catch up and explain to you why you're so sure about Talbott Winger.

You expect him to fly off again at any second, but Talbott shuffles his feet awkwardly as if he'd rather not leave.

"Y/N, are you...safe?"

"Of course," you reply automatically.

'I mean, he hasn't - he isn't -"

But before Talbott can articulate his question, you hear a door slam open from inside the bedroom and Felix's voice calling for you. You jump violently for the second time that morning, coffee sloshing over the side of your cup. You can only think of one reason why Felix would be back so quickly, and you turn to tell Talbott to go. But he's nowhere to be seen. You hear a loud beating of wings from overhead, and look up to see the enormous eagle climbing steadily higher. He's already a dark spot on the horizon when Felix bursts onto the terrace, out of breath, sweat undoing his severely slicked hair. It's such an unusual state for Felix you don't have to pretend to be concerned.

"What's wrong?" you ask quickly.

"There was a breach," he pants. "In the border wards. Someone got in."

"I didn't notice anything..." You swing your head about as if searching for potential intruders. You're careful to avoid eye contact with Felix, afraid it might give you away.

'Are you sure?" Felix stumbles across the terrace to you. He inspects you up and down as if searching for injuries.

"Of course," you find yourself saying for the second time in as many minutes. A quick trickle of guilt runs down the back of your throat. You know you ought to tell Felix of Talbott's attempt to lure you from the safety of your home. Instead, you close your hand about the scrap of parchment. You wrap your arms around Felix to hide your clenched palm. He holds you against him, head resting briefly on your shoulder while his breathing returns to normal.

"I have to get back," he says finally. "Will you stay in the house? Please? Just for today. I'll set up new barrier spells tonight, but for today just...please," he begs you. "I won't be able to focus otherwise."

Quickly, you think through your options. Merely keeping something from your husband is one thing, but you're reluctant to break any promise outright. So you choose your words carefully.

"I suppose I could agree to that," you say, with an exasperated eye roll and a dramatic sigh. "Just for today."

It works. Felix smiles in relief, and pulls you into a kiss full of unspoken gratitude. It’s as fiery and spine tingling as his kisses always are. But, knowing what you’re planning on doing as soon as he’s gone, you feel too guilty to fully appreciate it.

Part 2 | Fanfiction Masterpost

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ever-fics · 4 years

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Feel like doing some Oneshot/Headcanon requests

What to know:

Unless otherwise requested I default to Gender neutral and I try to keep the main character description as open as possible so that anyone could see the main character as themselves :)

I don’t do smut I’m just not comfortable with that.

I do Angst/fluff/and specific scenario requests best!

I can write for the following fandoms

•Arcana (anyone I love this whole series so much.)

•Fictif Last legacy

•Stardew Valley

•Mystic Messenger

Arcane

•Skyrim,Elder scrolls Online,Oblivion (so long as it’s not like a super obscure npc.) (Lucien Lachance is my specialty.)

•Dragon age

•Also it never hurts to ask if I’ve heard of a series it can be hard to find fic for some series and characters and if I’m familiar with the series or characters I will try my best! I might be familiar with the series or read/seen played some of it if you can send me a clip of the character you are looking for I will see what I can do!

Individual characters:

•Felix Rosier

•Loki (Mcu.)

• I want to try writing for Agatha Harkness I haven’t written her at all yet.

Feel free to request. :)

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chiarasslytherinmystery · 6 years

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So, tomorrow I will be posting my first Hogwarts Mystery fanfic

I planned it as the first part of a series that talks about what happens after the Cursed Vaults and it starts before the graduation and spans through the Harry Potter books, at first it was going to be a chapter per book but I realized that may not be the case.

Things to consider:

-The main couple is Charlie x MC, but it’s not the focus of every part.

-There will be no smut.

-Jacob is dead (also if you see that I named him Jason please tell me because apparently I’m traumatized after reading The Burning Maze).

-English is not my mother tongue, spanish is, so feel free to message me any mistakes so it can be corrected and it will also help me with my english.

-The titles will be from songs, mostly musicals! The song for the first one is this one:

youtube

That’s it from now I think! It would make me very happy if you read it, I haven’t wrote something like this since before my depression! ;;

Preview:

“Did you seriously asked Felix Rosier for relationship advice?”

“I panicked, ok?!”

“That’s hysterical!”

#hogwarts mystery #charlie x mc #hphm #fanfic #I'm really happy about it #the series don't have a name but soon enough

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domaslut · 2 years

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Little dark age.

HOGWARTS MYSTERY.

Pairing: Felix Rosier x reader (18+);

Prompt: You joined the Death Eaters in the name of love, for Felix. After you kill someone for the first time, you somehow find comfort into the arms of your lover: the same person who turned you into a murderer.

warnings: angst, mention to death and murder, toxic relationship and NSFW!.

You turned your back at him, hands shaking and breath uneven. Your wand laid a few feet away from you, on the marble floor of your bathroom. What had you done? How did those words rolled out of your tongue that easily? How could you let fury blind you?

Maybe you were evil to the core too, after all.

You flinched as a pair of muscolar, scarred arms encircled your waist. Your back flattened against his abs, his breath fanning your earlobe felt oddly comforting. He knew it, he was there too. Why didn’t he stop you, though? You could not think straight anymore. You were foggy, frightened, yet concious about what you had become for him, for the man that you loved. You were a murderer. Was he not a feral assassin too, by the way? You felt pathetic. You knew who he was, when you embraced him, when you allowed yourself to love him.

“Don’t fight it, mon amour… – he purred suavely, his lips tracing your jawline – It does not go away, if you hide. Let it in” he murmured, goosebumps raising on your bare shoulders.

A tear fell from your lashes, your hands gripping the edge of counter as your eyes darted on the mirror. Your reflection repulsed you, your marks visible on your forearms made you want to barf. It was a nightmare, a dystopia.

“Enjoy the thrill of the hunt” he whispered softly, his hand wandering down your hip and gripping the hem of your skirt, pulling it up. His voice sent shivers down your spine. You did not fight him, you wanted it. You needed him, even after what he had turned you into. It was toxic, he was your favorite deadly potion to sip under the moonlight.

You lulled your head back, his mouth lacing onto your neck as his fingers found the band of your panties and pulled them down your thighs. You batted your eyes closed, the thinkling of his belt unbuckled made your shudder under his touch in anticipation. He was shamelessly good at getting under your skin. You were defenseless.

“Breathe, love” he suggested you, before shoving his length past your folds and groaning sinfully into your ear. You moaned, adjusting to his size as he wrapped his hand gently around your throat. Was it his way to show you the power he had over you?

Loving Felix Rosier only meant one thing: falling into the deep end.

[requests will be opened soon! If you got any ideas, please, comment below what I should write about or send me a text! :3 love you, guys, and thanks for reading!].

#felix rosier x reader #felix rosier #slytherin #hogwarts mystery #hogwarts mc #harry potter hogwarts mystery #felix rosier x jacob's sibling #hphm #Smut #death eaters

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juniperwindsong · 4 years

Text

Necessary Monsters (10/16)

Summary: "What kind of gentleman would I be if I let your first day here be all misery?" "I thought you were a dragonologist now, not a gentleman." "They're not mutually exclusive."

His first week in Romania, Felix had been diligent about scourgifying himself after every shift. But magic, it seemed, had a harder time sluicing off dragon-related filth, and the spell never seemed to catch it all, leaving a distinct outdoors-y smell and a crusty stain about his clothes. More importantly, dirt and grime seemed to be a badge of honour here. Felix quickly discovered only newcomers and theoretical researchers, both regularly mocked by the resident dragonologists, bothered to clean themselves more than once a day. Desperate to fit in, Felix had learned to relax some of his more fastidious habits. Which is why it takes him nearly fifteen minutes of frantic searching to finally locate his long-disused bottle of Sleekeazy's Hair Potion at the bottom of an old trunk.

Grey pre-dawn light meanders across the dingy bathroom mirror as Felix applies liberal amounts of the potion to his hair, refusing to think too deeply about why. He pulls the nicer of his summer work shirts over his head, attempts to charm the worst of the wrinkles out of his trousers, and even spends a few minutes bent over his boots before he's forced to give them up as a lost cause. It would take days to remove all the layers of mud and muck.

Felix stares at his newly groomed reflection, nerves chewing a hole in the lining of his stomach. All he's done is dress himself up for disappointment, he thinks ruthlessly. His best has never been enough to impress Juniper, not for the results he wants, anyway. And he ought not to be attempting to impress her at all. She's coming here with Charlie Weasley, she's made her feelings about Felix clear, and that's all there is to it.

Anxiety wrings the last of Felix's confidence from him like a dishrag. Suddenly the prospect of seeing Juniper arrive with that ridiculous red-head is unbearable, and, in spite of the fact that he's woken at the crack of dawn on his day off specifically to greet Juniper as soon as she arrives, Felix flees the flat.

The sun is just beginning to warm the hard ground as Felix walks, quickly as dignity will allow, down the Reserve's main path toward the modest cul-de-sac of buildings. Better sense commands him not to glance across at the long-abandoned Hospital cottage. He looks anyway. The windows are as dark and disused as they've been all year, but the observation does nothing to settle his writhing nerves. Juniper might be in the main building, the same one he's headed for, receiving instructions from Guivré. The Romanian Reserve Director doesn't believe in staff meetings or long-winded introductions, but Juniper might take it upon herself to explore the building, make friends with the other dragonologists as soon as she can. That's the sort of thing she would do.

Felix's heart is pounding in his ears as he enters the building and nearly sprints through the mercifully-empty halls. He reaches his cramped office without meeting anyone, and sinks into the wobbly chair, panting slightly. There's sweat beading Felix's brow, and a lone strand of dark hair escapes his severe part. He tucks it back into place, and wonders how on Earth he's supposed to work under these conditions.

Perhaps Juniper won't stay at the Reserve long, Felix thinks as he starts on the paperwork mountain Rashbold has left piled on the desk; none of the other healers have. But the wish has no real will behind it. Juniper has never been one to shy away from a challenge. And the little pangs of terror the thought inspires reluctantly confirm to Felix that he still wants Juniper here, in spite of her unwelcome companion.

Taking a long, slow breath Felix forces composure through his limbs. Allowing himself to ruminate on the whole bloody mess is pointless, and sours his stomach. Forgoing enchantment, he fixes his eyes on the typewriter and uses his fingers to depress the keys manually. It's a slow, laborious process, but it keeps his feelings at bay and his mind from wandering. Felix turns the entirety of his attention to typing up Rashbold's report from yesterday, then the one from the day before. He works until his hand hits desk instead of parchment, and he's surprised to find he's already come to the end of the stack.

A low rumble of voices echoes from down the hall, and a quick glance at his pocket watch reveals the morning is almost over. When means, Felix realizes with a lurch, Juniper must be really, truly here. He's just wondering where she might be now when the light from the hall is suddenly blocked by a tall figure in a distinctive hat.

“Rosier? What are you doing here?” asks Grahame from the doorway. “Thought you were off today?”

"I was just catching up on paperwork," Felix says quickly, feeling oddly guilty, as though he were caught doing something forbidden. " We were about to lose the desk under it."

“Yeah, well, you might think about catching up on sleep. You’ve got circles like a coon.”

A year ago, the comparison would have meant nothing to Felix, but he’s spent enough time with the Reserve's resident American to become accustomed to his colourful turns of phrase. He manages a brittle smile.

"I'll think about it."

“How 'bout some coffee then?"

"Oh. Well, if you have some to spare." Felix tries to keep his voice from sounding to eager, though he stands so fast the chair legs rattle.

" 'Course." Grahame pushes off from the doorframe and saunters down the hall to his own slightly larger office, Felix just behind him. "I'm brewing way too much in the morning now, since you took off." He flashes an accusatory look over his shoulder. "Still can't believe you did that. I mean, I know McFusty had everyone riled up about your family for a while, but they'll get bored of it. You didn't have to run and hide."

Grahame nudges open the door of his office, and Felix follows him inside stiffly. This isn't the first time he's had to bite his tongue around Grahame's thoughtless comments. One of the outspoken American's favorite pastimes is voicing observations better kept to himself. Not the sort of person Felix would typically have any patience for, but Grahame has other qualities to make up for his tactlessness; namely, a never-ending supply of strong coffee and a generous nature.

Grahame sets his hat on the desk next to a large thermos, and rummages about in a drawer for a cup.

"I don't get all this bad blood between y'all anyway. I mean, it's not like you're one of those....what do you call 'em? Death speakers? It's-"

"Grahame," interrupts Felix tightly. He keeps his eyes fixed on the thermos of coffee, praying to it for patience. "Drop it. Please." In spite of his best effort, the words come out far too frosty to be considered polite. But rudeness runs off the American like rain from the rim of his hat. Grahame merely shakes his head and pours coffee from the thermos into the spare cup.

"I reckon you know best," Grahame concedes. He hands the cup to Felix who takes it with a nod of thanks and inhales the comfortingly scalding steam. "But I'm still sorry you're stuck in the shit shacks. Although..." Grahame's eyes suddenly light up slyly. "Guess this means you'll be seeing more of our new healer."

Felix's throat constricts tightly. His first sip of coffee is left swimming between his teeth as he tries to remember how to swallow. "Oh," he mumbles noncommittally when his mouth is free again. For once, he's grateful for Grahame's inability to pick up on social cues.

"Yep. Just got here this morning. Go by the med cottage when you have a chance and take a look. She's a peach."

Felix nearly drops his cup.

"Just out of school I think," continues Grahame, entirely oblivious to Felix's tightening jaw. "Can't be more than 18. We'll finally have something to look at besides McFusty. I know Sigeburt and Gil have already asked her to drinks, and there's money on who she says yes to first. I think Alexei's got the pot if you're interested. Personally, my bet's on - Hey! You're not going to finish your coffee?" Grahame calls after Felix's rapidly retreating back.

Felix speeds down the gravel walk toward the hospital cottage, all pretense of cool indifference gone. The blood pounding in his ears keeps time with his feet as his brain scolds him for being eleven kinds of moron. Why, oh why, did this never occur to him? He's been around the pub enough to know the lack of girls makes up a large proportion of the casual conversation among the predominately male dragonologists. Of the three female dragonologists present at the Reserve, two manage to keep themselves from intense scrutiny by their advanced age and the third -

Felix skids to a halt to avoid crashing into the stocky, muscular body and long red braid of the Reserve's youngest female dragonologist as she steps out of the hospital cottage's doorway. Instinct, recognising the impending danger, peddles his feet back just a step before dignity demands he stand his ground, matching the emerald eyes glare for glare.

"Rosier."

"McFusty."

The woman's eyes flicker into twin green flames as if Felix's cool pronunciation of her name were a grievous insult. "What do you want?" she asks fiercely, crossing her arms and planting herself in the doorway as if to block his entrance.

Felix smirks. The presence of his least favorite person at the Reserve gives his anxiety a purpose and a target. Enemies, he knows how to handle.

"To see our new healer, of course," he replies with perfect innocence. "But only if you're quite finished. I'm sure you need her assistance far more than I. Didn't your last attempt at anti-venom cause an outbreak of boils?"

McFusty's nostrils flare in such an accurate impression of the Hebridean Blacks she cares for that Felix wouldn't be surprised if actual sparks shot from them. She whips her head around to call over her shoulder into the cottage, "This'll be one of those unsavoury types I mentioned. Do let me know if he bothers you," McFusty meets Felix's eyes once more as she finishes, "I'll be happy to hex him a new hole."

Satisfied with the last word, McFusty steps out of the cottage, careful to bump hard into Felix's shoulder on her way down the walk. Felix contents himself with another superior smirk. He watches the angry red-head out of the corner of his eye as she marches away, years of experience reminding him just how possible a parting hex might be.

"What was that about?" calls a voice from inside the building that drives McFusty entirely from Felix's mind.

Excitement bubbling in his chest, Felix steps into the dimly lit cottage and jumps back hastily when the floor crunches under his feet. Waiting for his eyes to adjust to the change in light, Felix squints at the ground, then around the building's one large room. He wonders how it earned the generous title of "cottage" when "dilapidated shack" would be more accurate. Everything he can see appears to be dusty or broken or a combination of the two. What had appeared in the darkness to be piles of garbage carpeting the floor turn out, in fact, to actually be piles of garbage. There's hardly a wooden floorboard that isn't buried under cracked and broken jars and bottles, rotten bouquets of dried herbs and plants, or crushed, empty boxes. And sitting cross-legged in the middle of the rubble, like a queen surveying her unruly subjects, is Juniper.

For all his apprehension about this very moment, Felix can't stop elation surging through him as he takes in the sight. Juniper, in her trademark jeans and jumper (Slytherin green, he notes), here, in the same place as him, after all this time. Somehow, it's both soothing and exciting, and Felix wishes he could be allowed to just quietly enjoy her presence for a few minutes. But Juniper's watching him expectantly, head cocked to the side, the wand she's stuck through her loose bun wobbling slightly, and he realizes he hasn't answered her question.

"It's...nothing," replies Felix belatedly. He can hear the slight tremor of joy in his voice and struggles to keep his face impassive. Juniper doesn't appear to notice. She leans across a small pile of uncorked bottles to scribble something on a roll of parchment nearly two feet long.

"Well, if you're here for burn salve or anti-venom or...anything really it'll just have to wait," she says testily, without looking up. "Every single thing in here is either empty or unlabeled, it's going to take me at least a week to sort through it all. And all the ingredients are gone off as well, so there's no way to make anything till I've got more. I'm making up a list now, and I'll get it to Guivré just as soon as I can but I don't know how quickly the post runs here, so I really can't give you a time estimate." She runs a distracted hand through her hair, dust leaving a faint white streak.

Felix's lips twitch of their own accord. He clears his throat into his hand to hide them.

"You'd do better to send off for anything you need yourself and then file for reimbursement. You'll get it a good deal faster. Guivré's a hard person to track down and he doesn't consider paperwork a priority. Anything you leave in his office could very well sit there for months."

"Alright then," says Juniper, voice noticeably bereft of her characteristic cheer. She gets to her feet, neatly avoiding the toppling piles of rubbish propped against her, and rolls up her parchment. "I'll do it myself. I don't suppose you could point me to the post office? The bloke who showed me in took my owl from me. He said something about them not being allowed to fly here?"

"Yes, there's no loose owls allowed on the Reserve. They have to be kept at the Post Office and flown in designated areas. Apparently, they used to fly over the dragon habitats and get eaten. Cost the Reserve a fortune in recompense." Felix trails away when he realises Juniper hasn't heard a word. She’s turning round in a circle, eyes on the floor, kicking aside debris with increasingly frantic movements. "Have you lost something?"

"My wand," Juniper exclaims angrily, now patting the pockets of her dust-covered jeans. She lets out a groan of frustration when she finds nothing. Carefully circumventing a pile of jagged glass, Felix steps forward and plucks the wand from the back of Juniper's hair. He offers it to her, failing to keep the amusement from his eyes and mouth. Juniper snatches it away from him, face flushed with shame or anger, he isn't sure which.

"You seem...bothered," Felix comments, taking care not to smile.

"It's just... been a long morning." Juniper rubs the bridge of her nose and sighs deeply. "People've been in and out since I got in. Half of them want things I don't have and get pissed when I don't have it, like they thought I would show up with an endless supply of potions in tow? And then the other half don't even need anything, they just want to ask me questions about the Cursed Vaults or my brother or whether I'm currently seeing anyone!" She wrinkles her nose in disgust. "Like that's the first thing I'm thinking about! It's my first day at my first job, I've not had time to change or eat or use the bloody toilet, but yes, let me choose a dinner companion."

Felix's tightly coiled tension unwinds, and for the first time that morning he's able to relax. A distant part of him registers guilt that he wasn't there to help make Juniper's arrival more hospitable, but that can be easily improved, now he's confident none of the dragonologists will be winning the betting pool anytime soon.

"Has no one showed you around yet?"

Juniper shakes her head. "No. Guivré had some bloke take my things from me at the gate and then led me straight here."

"Well then," Felix relieves Juniper of her roll of parchment and gestures to the door. "Let me give you the grand tour."

"What?" Juniper meets his eyes, and Felix wonders if he's imagining wariness in them. "That's - really ok. I'm sure you've got loads to do, and I should probably stay and sort through this mess."

"It's been sitting like this for nearly a year, it'll wait another few hours," Felix assures her. When she continues to look uncertain, he adds wryly, "What kind of gentleman would I be if I let your first day here be all misery?" And with mock solemnity, Felix offers Juniper his arm.

Juniper blinks. The harassed expression fades, and her eyes twinkle with something more like her usual humour.

"I thought you were a dragonologist now, not a gentleman."

"They're not mutually exclusive."

Felix winks, and a familiar smile spreads slowly up the side of Juniper's face.

"Very well," she replies, taking his arm with excessive ceremony. "Lead on."

Their first stop is the Post Office, where Juniper confirms her owl is settled and is able to send off her list of necessary ingredients to Diagon Alley. Then a short perambulation around the cul-de-sac allows Felix to point out the shop, the pub, and the mess.

"There's three meals a day offered there. It's all free, but it tastes it. I recommend the pub whenever possible."

Juniper's head swivels about following Felix's finger as he names each building.

"Is this it then?" she asks as he leads her onto the path leading to the dragon habitats.

"Yes, apart from the flats. They're on the opposite side of the village."

"Five buildings constitutes a village?"

"You were expecting Hogsmeade?"

"No, not exactly. I guess I just thought...I don't know... that it'd be bigger. Isn't it the largest dragon sanctuary in the world?"

Felix chuckles. "Yes, it is. The largest dragon sanctuary not dragonologist sanctuary. Most of the land is dedicated to the dragon habitats. There's at least two of every known dragon species living here, and they each need several leagues of land to be comfortable and to safely kept from each other. Dragons don't play well together."

"I see," Juniper says, nodding absently. She's fallen a bit behind Felix, constantly turning side to side to take in the scenery.

"It's beautiful here," she observes and Felix feels as puffed with pride as though he had cultivated the landscape himself.

"Yes," he agrees. "There's a bit of everything here. Terrain to suit each dragon. Over that way's the mountain where they keep the Longhorns and the Shortsnouts. And the valley on the other side are for the Opaleyes. There's even an enormous lake for the Ridgeback."

"Where do the Peruvian Viperteeth live?" asks Juniper eagerly.

"Vipertooths is the appropriate plural," Felix corrects. "And our habitat's just up the path there. It's hills mostly, with a small wooded area. They tried to cultivate a miniature jungle there, but whoever was responsible for it had never actually seen a jungle before so it's really just an eclectic forest."

"Can I see them?" The bubbling excitement in Juniper's voice is too much for Felix to maintain his staid self-control, and he laughs. He can't remember the last time he laughed like this, warm and full and real.

"Where do you think I'm taking you?"

The prospect of seeing dragons lends speed to Juniper's feet until she's practically skipping next to a still-chuckling Felix. They turn off the path, and Felix leads the way to the hidden paddock.

Juniper's face is pressed nearly flat against the window, as she searches every direction for a sign of a bronze dragon.

"She's bound to come back this way soon," Felix reassures. "There's more tree cover over here and she prefers to stay in the shade once it's gets too warm in the afternoons."

They stand together quietly for a moment watching the tree line, so close their shoulders almost touch. Each time Juniper turns her head, the smell of lavender and that other scent Felix can never identify wafts toward him. Something hot kindles to life in his lower abdomen but before it can become too distracting Juniper's curiousity comes to the rescue.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course," says Felix in relief.

"What is it you actually do? I mean... in Peru you were running around chasing dragons, stopping them from eating people and everything, and I assume you're not doing that anymore. So, what do you do here?"

The question confuses Felix at first, until he remembers how little they've communicated in the last year. He adopts the old self-assured voice he always used when tutoring younger students.

"Well, there's two resident dragonologists to each dragon breed, and we're responsible for their upkeep: feeding them, keeping them healthy, preventing them from escaping. We get a team of assistants but that changes regularly, everything pretty much falls to us. We take notes about their behaviour and write down basically everything that happens with them each day and keep it on file so other dragonologists and magizoologists can use it for research. We've also nearly always got some sort of researcher that needs access to the dragons for a paper or experiment or whatnot and they want looking after and questions answered. It's quite a bit more paperwork than being a dragonologist in the field."

"Interesting," murmurs Juniper, now watching Felix instead of the window.

"Really?" he asks, cursing the hated blush that colours his cheeks.

"Of course. You never really think about that side of it, do you? That being a Dragonologist is more than just stunning spells and dodging flame. Most people think-"

A rush of whistling wind interrupts Juniper before she can explain what most people think, and she turns to the window eagerly.

"Look up," Felix tells her. Juniper's nose hits the glass as she cranes her neck to watch the copper-coloured dragon descend at a breathtaking pace onto the sloping hill in front of them. Felix spares a quick glance at the dragon to determine which it is before returning his gaze to Juniper, watching with satisfaction as her mouth falls slightly open.

"It's gorgeous," she breathes, hands now pressed against the window beside her face, as if she might feel the warm scales through the enchanted glass.

"She."

"She?"

Felix nods. "That's a female. You can tell by the small ridge of spikes around her eyes. I caught her terrorizing a little village near the Pacaya-Samiria reserve."

"You caught her?" Juniper asks in awed disbelief.

"Well, my team and I."

Outside the paddock, the sparkling dragon stretches her wings leisurely and wriggles her long snake-like body from snout to tail as if shaking off dust. She slithers regally toward the tangled trees near the paddock, and wraps herself around a large trunk.

"Can we go see her?' Juniper asks eagerly.

"Not unless you'd like to lose a limb. I'm afraid Gen's particularly bloodthirsty."

"Her name's Gen?"

"It's short for Genièvre.”

"Where does that come from?" asks Juniper curiously, but before Felix has to think up a suitable excuse, movement registers out of the corner of his eye.

He and Juniper both turn to inspect the small group of wizards now trotting down the hill from the direction the dragon had come. Felix recognizes Rashbold leading a team of assistants, each dragging bulky sacks behind them. He's about to explain the glamourous world of the Reserve's dragon dung trade when Juniper cries, "Charlie!" and waves frantically at one of the sack-laden assistants. All Felix's high spirits deflate as he recognises the flaming hair.

"He can't hear you," he tells her brusquely. "The glass is enchanted. We can see out but they can't see in."

"Oh, too bad. I hope his first day's better than mine."

Felix retreats to the back of the paddock and leans against the wall, arms crossed, watching Juniper watch Charlie cart his sack down the hill toward the habitat's entrance. From here it doesn't look like the Weasley boy has changed much in appearance. He's still quite short, Felix's notes with a savage pleasure, but there's no denying he's exceptionally well-built for his size. First Barnaby, now Weasley; Juniper clearly has a type.

"So," asks Felix unsure whether it's courage or weakness that prompts the question. "You and Charlie are..."

When he can't complete his sentence, Juniper turns curiously. "Are what?"

Felix can feel his face heat and looks down, feigning interest in the tops of his boots. "Together?"

"What, you mean like together together?" Juniper giggles, a gossiping school-girl sort of sound. "No, of course not."

The answer is entirely unexpected. Hope flickers to life inside Felix like a candle flame, but he refuses to let it warm him.

"Really?" he replies skeptically. "You just came here together by coincidence, then?"

"Well, no it's not exactly a coincidence.I mean, we're friends. Well, the sort of friends that when Charlie found out where I'd applied he threatened to jinx me if I didn't ask about a job for him as well."

"Sounds like he really wanted to work with you," presses Felix, and Juniper laughs again, a comfortable laugh as if he'd told an old favorite joke.

"You clearly don't know Charlie," she says between chuckles. Catching sight of Felix's flat expression, Juniper calms herself enough to explain. "Look, you know how some guys like girls and some guys like guys? Well, Charlie just likes dragons. That's all he ever thinks about, every day, all the time. That's why we got to be such good friends, actually. All our other friends got to be obsessed with dating and romance and for a while it was like you couldn't ever hang out with anyone without wondering if they really liked you or wanted to secretly date you or something. It was exhausting. But with Charlie I never had to worry about that and he never had to worry about that with me, so we could just study in peace."

It's as though the storm clouds over Felix's head have parted and the sun is shining on him fully for the first time in months. He feels lighter than air, and his breathing is full and easy. A weight has been lifted off his chest he didn't know he'd been carrying. Too late, he realises he's grinning and he can't switch it off. Juniper's notices as well.

"What's so funny?" she asks, mirroring his smile automatically.

Felix ignores her question. Instead, he grabs her hand, pulling her away from the window and toward the exit. Joy has gifted him a brilliant idea, and he can't wait even a second to put it into action.

"There's something I want you to see."

“Are we nearly there?”

“Nearly.”

“That's what you said twenty minutes ago,” Juniper grumbles, but Felix can hear the laughter in it.

“And it was true then, too.” Felix races down the winding path that leads to the deeper dragon habitats, Juniper in tow. When the trees disappear entirely and the hills grow higher and sharper, he speeds up.

“Felix, come on, my legs are killing me.”

“It's just up this hill, I promise." His grin feels like it might sprout wings and fly off his face and Juniper can’t help but laugh at it as she clambers up the hill behind him.

"Merlin's Beard, Felix, this had better be worth-"

Juniper stops abruptly as she reaches the hill top. She stares down at the other side, eyes very wide.

“Is that...“

“Yes,” says Felix softly. Juniper presses a hand tightly to her mouth.

Below them, a dragon trots gaily across the grass chasing what appears from the colour to be an enchanted quaffle. A wizard nearby directs the progress of the ball with his wand, and the large green dragon follows it closely. Every few paces, it leaps into the air, catching wind under it's right wing and gliding forward to snap long white fangs at the ball before landing back onto the ground gracefully. It tosses its emerald head and emits a musical snort like a trumpet call.

"Sparky..." Juniper's voice is thick and wet, and Felix realises with an ebb of his high-spirits that tears are streaming down her face.

"Are you crying?" The question tumbles from him as soon as he thinks it, before he can register how stupid it sounds. It's obvious she's crying, what isn't obvious is why. And though Felix casts around frantically for a reason, he can't come up with anything that makes sense.

"Yes," Juniper replies wiping roughly at her eyes with her sleeve. "Sorry. It happens a lot more now than it used to."

"But what...what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong...I promise. I'm just..." A choked sob prevents any more coherent explanation. Felix can only stand helplessly while Juniper sobs loudly into her hands, Sparky still prancing below them.

"I'm sorry," Felix offers, though the words feel wholly inadequate and he isn't even sure what he ought to be sorry for. "I thought you'd like to see him."

Juniper shakes her head quickly, trying to speak through her tears. "I would...I mean, I do. It's wonderful. It's just.." She sniffs loudly. "I don't know, I just can't believe...that I'm here. I'm really here."

"What do you mean?" asks Felix cautiously.

"I mean, here. At the Romanian Reserve. I always wanted to come here and...visit Sparky one day. But I never thought... I mean...I never really thought I'd get out of school alive, you know? I didn't think...I'd make it.." Juniper looks down at Sparky once more. "But I did...I'm here. It's over and...I can't believe it."

It's as though the last year has never occurred. The final vestiges of Felix's twisted anger and resentment and confusion shrink to nothing. All he can feel is the same familiar, overwhelming love for Juniper he remembers, and that primal desire to make anything hurting her disappear.

"Come here." Felix wraps his arms around Juniper's shaking shoulders and lets her bury her wet face against his chest. He holds her to him delicately, unable to keep from savouring the feeling of her body pressed against his once more. "You did make it. It's all over now." Felix strokes her windswept hair softly. "And things are going to be so much better from now on. I promise."

Missed the last bits? Here’s the link to the masterpost.

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juniperwindsong · 5 years

Text

HPHM Fanfiction Masterpost

Dragonology 101 - Complete (Felix Rosier x MC)

Necessary Monsters (Felix Rosier x MC) Sequel to Dragonology 101

Advanced Dragonology Smutty Felix x MC drabbles and excerpts not included in my other stories. Available on A03 or Wattpad

In Love & War - Felix Rosier x Talbott Winger x Reader Link to story on A03 | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

One-Shots

Happy Christmas Merula Snyde (Merula x MC in a minor way, if you squint) : Y/N Version / MC version with Felix Rosier epilogue

Four Things Felix Rosier Remembered (Felix backstory fic with very faint Felix Rosier x Chester Davies)

A Night at the Rosier’s (Felix x Chester fic featuring MC)

Delicate (Barnaby Lee x MC smut): Reader version / MC version

Dangerous (Tulip Karasu x MC smut): Reader version / MC Version

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mccrps · 6 years

Text

Felix Rosier x Reader (MC)

Request(s):

A/N: Literally 2 months to write I am so sorry I’m trash, but also I found a way to combine all this soooo clap for myself on the back for that one. I hope ya’ll all like this one, this is essentially written intertwined with the head cannons for Felix x Reader I just posted. It’s meant to be read after but you can read either one first. Enjoy ! @slytherin-princess1 a million months later but here you gooo, as promised filled with angst, smut, tears and anger. !!! I’m making Hogwarts a college so everyone is 18+

Warning: Smut, angst, it’s not cheating if you’re not in a committed relationshippp. and nothing else really.

Word Count: 1,612

You threw yourself on your bed, taking a deep breath to try and get all of your emotions in check, you had just done something terrible, well... not that terrible because you were single as can be and you could do whatever you wanted.

But still, terrible.

You had told yourself over and over again and you still fucked up.

You literally just went to talk to Chester to get some information from him.

All you wanted to know was some of Felix’s inner thoughts. How was he....was he okay...did he talk about you..

You know, those kind of inner thoughts.

Chester had merely chuckled and shook his head at you.

“Trying to love Felix is pointless.”

“What do you mean?” You asked quietly, trying your best to not seem so desperate in his answer.

“Felix is....he’s in his own little world. He doesn’t care about relationships and commitment. I know you think you might know him, but trust me. You don’t. I barely know him and I’m his best friend.”

You blinked a few times, biting your lip as you tried not to cry.

He didn’t care about you so why should you care about him?

Before you could lay out the pros and cons of the situation, you closed the space between you and Chester.

The next thing you knew clothes were flying off, moans filled the air and for a split second you seemed to forget everything that wasn’t Chester.

And now here you were, hiding out in the prefect quarters. You had run out of Chester’s room as if it were on fire, ignoring his words as he called out after you.

You ran a hand through your hair, taking a couple deep breaths.

You were freaking out so much you barely heard the door opening. You jumped slightly when you felt the bed dip beside you.

You gasped, putting a hand over your heart and you felt it thumping madly against your chest.

The familiar grin of Felix was staring back at you, a glazed over look in his eyes. “Hello princess.”

He was drunk.

You sighed, leaning up on your elbows to look at him. “Hi Felix.”

He reached up, caressing your cheek softly.

It was moments like this that confused you to no end. Sometimes he treated you as if you didn’t exist. Treat you as if he hadn’t known you for years. As if you weren’t best friends at some point in your lives.

All the old memories of the two of you coming back. The family parties the two of you used to skip completely to go wander around who’s ever house they were in. Staying at Hogwarts over break because being at school was way better than being at home with your crazy families that were obsessed with purebloods and what they did for a living.

Then other times, like this very moment, he treated you as if you’d been in a relationship since forever, like he was your boyfriend who loved you as long as you loved him.

His behavior switched more often than not, making you question every single detail until finally you had to find out the truth.

Who better to know what goes through Felix’s mind than Chester?

And now that question burned through your skin, feeling as if Felix could tell something was off about you, as if the very act was written on your forehead.

You turn away from him, leaning away from his touch. He frowns, his eyebrows furrowed together.

“What?” His low voice breaks the silence and you had to quickly think on your feet as to why you didn’t want any type of interaction with him right then and there.

“You hide me and ignore me around your friends....and then you want to fool around?”

Felix chuckled softly, towering over you. You frowned, looking away from him, arms crossed at your chest. Even though this wasn’t an issue that was bothering you at that very moment, it was still an issue the two of you needed to discuss. He bent down, caressing your cheek in his hand as he brought his lips to yours, but still you ignored him.

His mood didn’t falter, taking your silence as a challenge. He leaned back, grabbing your legs and abruptly dragging your body down the bed closer to him.

You looked up at him, his hooded gaze meeting yours. There was no point in trying to argue with him tonight.

He was drunk.

Everything you said was just going in one ear and out the other or just over his head completely.

He groaned against your neck as you turned away from him the most you could with him pressing himself against you.

“It’s no fun when you’re not into it.” You hear his muffled voice against your skin.

“Maybe because I’m not? Not really. I don’t want to do this anymore, Felix.” Your voice started to get shaky.

He leaned back again, the look on his face was one of disbelief.

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that....I’m saying that I don’t want to do this. We...we don’t want the same thing, Felix.” You started to think of what else to say to get him to understand but he still looked just as confused as before.

“What do you mean we don’t want the same thing. It’s been the same thing, since the very beginning. We both knew what this was. This was the same thing we both wanted.”

“I know but-”

“No. No. You don’t get to change the rules mid way just because you want to.”

“I know but Felix-” He had started to get up and you jumped from the bed, trying to get in front of him to stop him from leaving before he heard you out.

“Stop. Why are you trying to change something that was already good. This was good. What are you doing?”

Tears clouded your vision and you shook your head, not knowing how to answer him.

“I don’t want a relationship. You know that. That’s the only way.” He shook his head too, looking away from you.

“Felix please-” You reached forward to take his hand but he moved away from you, quickly leaving the room.

You spent days after that trying to avoid them both. You found that it wasn’t very hard, almost positive they were doing the same to you.

It wasn’t until about a week later, you were in bed, reading what you’d gone over in class when you heard Felix come in.

You had maybe caught a glimpse of him since you saw him last, him coming in all late hours of the night on days you didn’t have to monitor the halls.

You’d heard a few girls giggling about their night with him. Jealousy did not suit you well at all.

When you met his eyes you tried not to let every single emotion you’d been feeling since he walked out evident on your face but you knew with just one glance Felix would be able to sense everything.

You quickly shut your book and turned away from him, turning off your light.

He took a step towards you but stopped himself. Not sure of what to say.

He didn’t say anything as he got ready for bed, taking off all his clothes aside him his boxers. He pulled back the bed sheet to get in when he stopped again. Looking over at your figure turned away from him.

He slowly walked over, pulling back the sheets and getting in behind you. You shut your eyes tightly, not sure if this was a dream or not. You felt his arm slid around you, bringing you closer to him. His lips on your neck as he placed a soft kiss in your favorite spot.

You weren’t even mad anymore, the longer he went without speaking to you the more upset you got. You had been waiting for what felt like forever for this.

Turning to face him, you opened your mouth to speak but he leaned forward cutting you off completely to place his lips over yours.

His mouth feathered lightly over yours fleetingly, almost as if he were testing the waters. It was you who closed the gap and pressed your lips against his.

It quickly turned into a heated kiss, teeth clashed together, hands grabbed at the other quickly, clothes weren’t bothered to be taken off. He was sliding into you quickly, not even giving you a moment to breathe. Cutting off your moans with another kiss his pace didn’t falter or slow down.

Your nails raked down his back, leaving angry marks on his skin making him wince. He gripped your thigh tightly trying to transfer the pain back to you, thrusting harder and you gasped, holding onto him.

He leaned back just enough to speak and made you look at him. He had an intense look in his eyes, one that you had never seen before. “Don’t ever fuck him again.” Your heart beat staggered after hearing that. You didn’t know what to say but he didn’t care. He didn’t want to talk right then. He was making a statement. Adding another rule.

He brought his lips back to yours roughly, groaning when he felt you tighten around his hard length.

You knew this new rule would complicate things.

Not because you were going to do it again.

But because of what it implied.

The rule implied jealousy, on his end.

You meant something to Felix, whether he wanted to admit it or not, that was an issue you had to deal with one step at a time.

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