#genuinely like this piece but can’t be arsed to finished

[katzenkarussell]

Unfortunately lost the motivation for the sketch but had fun coloring it in

Meant to draw this as a sort of companion piece to the Turo I drew, because I need to satisfy the itch of Sada/Turo wearing some color of the other.

Also I love Sada’s earring I want it irl

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

Hii! Can I please request a Tangerine x fem!civilian!reader where Y/n and Tangerine are in a serious relationship and Tan wants to introduce her to Lemon. Y/n is super nervous about meeting Lemon because she’s worried he won’t like her since she’s not an assassin, but Lemon is worried that she’ll be scared off because they’re assassins… Also Tan forgot to mention to Lemon that he told Y/n the truth about what they do and that she’s okay with it😂

hii! I love this, such a fun idea. thank you for your request, hope you like it💌

meeting Lemon (tan x f reader)

wc || 860

warnings || none really, some swearing and mentions of alcohol

masterlist + rules

taglist

“What if he doesn’t like me?” You say out of nowhere, fiddling with your fingers anxiously.

Tangerine’s hand moves from the steering wheel to your knee, offering comfort as his eyes temporarily left the road to look you over. “He will.” He reassures.

You and Tangerine were heading to Lemon’s house for a get-together dinner, this will be the first time meeting him and you felt sick to your stomach. This was a huge deal to all three of you, mainly because you all desperately wanted validation from one another, like you all valued each other's opinions.

You’ve met ex-partner’s parents in the past, but time, it feels way more nerve-racking, like you were on the final battle on Super Mario. You desperately wanted Lemon to like you, as he’s so important to Tan.

“How do you know?”

“Because... I do.” Picking up your hand, bringing it to his lips and placing a soft kiss on the back of it. “If in doubt, just talk about Thomas.”

“Wait- what? Who?” Eyes widened as you felt like you had missed a very important piece of information.

“The tank engine, you nob.” Chucking as he stared ahead.

“Oh my god, my brain almost exploded. I thought you forgot to tell me about someone.” Feeling slightly relieved. You knew of Lemon’s infatuation with Thomas, you were just too anxious to remember. “Do I lie?”

“About what? I’m not a mind reader, you can’t just say random questions and expect me to know, you pillock .” Laughing genuinely, looking over at you again.

“About what I do for work?”

“No.”

“What if I say I’m an assassin? Then he’ll definitely like me.”

“He’ll never believe that… you’re too sweet.”

Groaning to yourself.

Tan pulls up into the driveway, once he stops he turns to face you. “You’re going to be fine, he’s a lovable idiot most of the time.”

Tangerine knocked on the front door while you stood next to him tightly clutching the box of cake in your hands.

“Welcome brother, welcome my brother's girl, come on in.” Lemon's voice boomed as he greeted you both.

“Calm down, nobhead.” Tan wryly chuckles as you both walk past and into the house.

“Hi, it’s great to finally meet you.” You sweetly say. “I made this. It’s a lemon drizzle loaf, I thought it was appropriate.” Awkwardly laughing as you gave him the cake.

“Oh, I don’t like cake.”

Oh shit. “Oh- I um-“ Your heart fell out of your arse.

“Nah, I’m just kidding!” A deep laugh came from his chest. “And it’s lemon? That’s lovely, thank you.” His eyebrows wiggle as he looks over to Tan, as if he’s saying ‘you got a good one.’

In some weird and unexpected way, it actually made the situation lighter. “Thank god.” Clutching your chest at the initial panic.

“You dick.” Tangerine slaps Lemon’s shoulder.

“My bad. Alright, so everything’s all ready.” He extends his hand gesturing the way to the dining room. Tan pulls out your chair for you, then takes a seat down next to you while Lemon slumps into his opposite.

Conversation flowed easily over the course of dinner, maybe with a little help from a glass of wine or two. You had all finished eating a little bit ago, but hung around the table drinking and talking.

“What is it you do for work?” Lemon questions looking above his class.

“Oh, I um- have a small business.” You say while taking a sip of your drink to deflect.

“I love that, being your own boss. You got a cool girlfriend man.” Lemon sluggishly says to Tan, clearly had a little too much to drink. “Talking of bosses… at the office, he’s been busting my balls recently.”

You were a little tipsy, but not so much that your brain was off. Turning around to look at Tangerine as your eye’s squinted. “Office, eh? Been on any work trips lately? Johannesburg? Bolivia? Tokyo?” Lips turned into a smirk as you looked between the brothers.

“Uhm- huh?” Says a perplexed Lemon.

“I know what you guys do.” Bursting into laughter.

“What?! What do you mean.”

“That you’re contract killers.”

“That doesn’t scare you off?” Seems like Lem had sobered up from that shock you gave him.

Shaking your head ‘no’ turning around to smile at Tan.

“Why didn’t you tell me that?” Lemon glares at his brother, kicking him under the table.

“I did… wait- maybe I didn’t.”

“You’re a right dick for that. I’ve been worried all day that I’d scare you away.” Lemon looks at you, apologetically smiling at you.

“God no! I was actually worried too.” You simply say. “I didn’t think you’d like me because I’m not in the same line of work.” Wryly laughing.

“Fuck no. You’re too sweet for that shit.” Nodding at the cake, as if to prove his point.

The three of you continued to chat about random crap as you enjoyed dessert, it felt like you were on the verge of developing a friendship with Lemon, and you loved it- feeling like you and Tangerine had just made it through a big milestone in your relationship.

[bamf-jaskier]

So I’ve been having a lot of thoughts about how imbalanced Geralt and Jaskier’s relationship is in the show and while I might make another post about it, I don’t think anything shows that better than by comparing the Djinn scene in The Last Wish vs the show. 

For the set-up to meeting the Djinn in the books, Geralt and Dandelion are fishing together. They are both holding onto a line in and manage to haul in a 12 foot long catfish by working together and on the other line they have in the river  Jaskier pulls out the Djinn’s amphora. In the show, Geralt is hunting the Djinn in an attempt to try and get some peace of mind. Jaskier happens to run into Geralt and watches as Geralt pulls out the Djinn. 

Scene from The Last Wish:

“Ha!” Dandilion exclaimed again, proudly. “Do you know what this is?”

“It's an old pot.”

“You're wrong,” declared the troubadour, scraping away shells and hardened, shiny clay. “This is a charmed jar. There's a djinn inside who'll fulfill my three wishes.”

The witcher snorted.

“You can laugh.” Dandilion finished his scraping, bent over and rinsed the amphora. “But there's a seal on the spigot and a wizard's mark on the seal.”

“What mark? Let's see.”

“Oh, sure.” The poet hid the jar behind his back. “And what more do you want? I’m the one who found it and I need all the wishes.”

“Don't touch that seal! Leave it alone!”

“Let go, I tell you! It's mine!”

“Dandilion, be careful!”

“Sure!”

“Don't touch it! Oh, bloody hell!”

The jar fell to the sand during their scuffle, and luminous red smoke burst forth.

The witcher jumped back and rushed toward the camp for his sword. Dandilion, folding his arms across his chest, didn't move.

The smoke pulsated and collected in an irregular sphere level with Dandilion's eyes. The sphere formed a six-foot-wide distorted head with no nose, enormous eyes and a sort of beak.

Compare that to the scene from the show: 

Jaskier: Wow. Wow. What is- What is that?

Geralt: [inspecting the stopper] It’s a wizard’s seal. The djinn.

Jaskier: Do you mind if I- [He grabs the pot.]

Geralt: Jaskier...

Jaskier: Take back that bit about my fillingless pie. Take it back and then you can have your djinny-djinn-djinn.

Geralt: Let go.

Jaskier: No! No, let go, you horse’s arse! [Geralt accidentally pulls out the stopper. Jaskier upends the pot, nothing happens.] Hm. That’s a bit of an anticlimax. [A sudden breeze ruffles their hair.] Or is it?

Now, it’s important to note that the dialogue is actually quite similar when Geralt and Jaskier are arguing about taking the jar and the seal. However, where it really differs is the context. 

In the show, Geralt finds the Djinn and Jaskier takes it from him without asking and Geralt is clearly annoyed by this. 

In the books, Dandelion finds the amphora and Geralt doesn’t believe it’s a Djinn while Dandelion does and Geralt tries to warn Dandelion of opening it because he considers it dangerous. 

It’s the difference between Geralt being genuinely annoyed at Jaskier vs Geralt being concerned for Dandelion’s safety. There is a weird amount of contention between Geralt and Jaskier in the show that makes their relationship feels honestly unhealthy in many ways. 

Scene from The Last Wish:

“Djinn!” said Dandilion, stamping his foot. “I freed thee and as of this day, I am thy lord. My wishes—”

The head snapped its beak, which wasn't really a beak but something in the shape of drooping, deformed and ever-changing lips.

“Run!” yelled the witcher. “Run, Dandilion!”

“My wishes,” continued the poet, “are as follows. Firstly, may Valdo Marx, the troubadour of Cidaris, die of apoplexy as soon as possible. Secondly, there's a count's daughter in Caelf called Virginia who refuses all advances. May she succumb to mine. Thirdly—”

No one ever found out Dandilion's third wish.

Two monstrous paws emerged from the horrible head and grabbed the bard by the throat. Dandilion screeched.

Again, Compare that to the scene from the show: 

Jaskier: Djinn, I have freed thee, and as of this day, I am thy lord. Firstly, may Valdo Marx, the troubadour of Cidaris, be struck down with apoplexy and die. Secondly, the Countess de Stael must welcome me back with glee, open arms, and very little clothing. Thirdly-

Geralt: Jaskier! [He grabs the back of Jaskier’s top and pulls him backward.]

Jaskier: Wha-

Geralt: Stop! There are only three wishes.

Jaskier: Oh, come on, you always say you want nothing from life. So how was I supposed to know you wanted three wishes all to yourself?

Geralt: I just want some damn peace!

Jaskier: Well, here’s your peace! [He throws the pot to the ground where it breaks. Geralt bares his teeth and growls before he bows down to collect the pieces, missing the fresh cut on his forearm. The wind intensifies and Jaskier raises a hand to his throat.] Geralt… Geralt… it’s the djinn! [Geralt casts a magical sign at the black, transparent smoke rushing by. Jaskier doubles over and clutches his throat.]

Geralt: Jaskier. [Jaskier vomits blood.]

Again, while the dialogue is very similar, especially in the case of Jaskier/Dandelion some of it being word for word in fact, Geralt in the books tries to protect Dandelion while the only thing Geralt focuses on is the wishes themselves. As well, in the books, Dandelion’s injury in the books is due to his own folly and arrogance while in the show, the writers make it indirectly Geralt’s fault. 

It’s another weird choice that seems to suggest a dislike and a hostility between Geralt and Jaskier. It seems that even subconsciously Geralt doesn’t want Jaskier around. 

Scene from The Last Wish:

“A troubadour,” repeated Chireadan, looking at Geralt. “That's bad. Very bad. The muscles of his neck and throat are attacked. Changes in his vocal cords are starting to take place. The spell's action has to be halted as soon as possible otherwise…This might be irreversible.”

“That means…Does that mean he won't be able to talk?”

“Talk, yes. Maybe. Not sing.”

Geralt sat down at the table without saying a word and rested his forehead on his clenched fists.

Again, Compare that to the scene from the show: 

Chireadan: His throat was attacked. If the spell’s action isn’t halted as soon as possible, that damage might be irreversible.

Jaskier: Wha- [vomiting more blood]

Chireadan: And the longer he goes untreated, the more likely it is to spread. He could die.

Jaskier: [gasps] Fuck! Geralt.

Geralt: Uh... Yeah, we won‘t let that happen. [pats Jaskier’s back]

In the books, Geralt shows genuine concern for Dandelion and is heartbroken by the idea that he might not be able to sing again. Remember, in the books, Dandelion’s injury is a result of his own folly and Geralt still feels this obvious and clear sadness. In the show--he just has this awkward grimace and pats him on the back. He almost seems to be there out of a strange sense of duty and doesn’t seem to feel too much guilt about his part in Jaskier’s injury. 

Even when they are reunited after Yennefer heals Jaskier, it is very different in the two mediums (I actually want to do another post about Yennefer in Bottled Appetites vs The Last Wish)

Scene from The Last Wish:

“Dandilion!” Geralt shouted, holding Krepp back, who was clearly getting ready to perform an exorcism or a curse. “Where have you…here…Dandilion!”

“Geralt!” The bard jumped up.

“Dandilion!”

Again, Compare that to the scene from the show: 

Jaskier: Oh, Geralt. Thank the gods. I might live to see another day. We need to go. 

Geralt: Jaskier, you’re okay.

Jaskier: I’m glad to hear that you give a monkey’s about it.

Geralt: Let’s not jump to conclusions. What happened?

Geralt and Jaskier are overjoyed to see each other in the books meanwhile in the show Geralt is just...okay about it. 

And it’s really strange because Netflix!Geralt can show emotion when he wants to, he does with Yennefer in Bottled Appetites and Rare Species, he shows fear when she is with the Djinn and care when they are in the tent together and yet --- this emotion is not extended to Jaskier. This isn’t simply a difference of Geralt’s characterization.

In the show, the writers created an imbalanced relationship between Geralt and Jaskier where Geralt never asked Jaskier to be there. The bard is constantly inserting himself into Geralt’s life when he is not wanted and testing Geralt’s boundaries without permission. He almost seems like an invader in Geralt’s life and it makes it so that I honestly can’t believably see Geralt and Jaskier traveling together for 20 years. 

Dandelion and Geralt protect each other, care for each other and worry about one another. Even from the beginning of the Djinn incident, they were fishing together. Geralt and Jaskier on the other hand have a relationship where Geralt begrudgingly tolerates Jaskier while Jaskier plows along blindly. It’s not healthy on either side. Geralt is putting up with someone he doesn’t seem to have a genuine connection with and Jaskier is pushing boundaries and constantly talking to a man who has no interest in listening. 

There is no reciprocal relationship between Geralt and Jaskier and I think in the end that’s why there is this hostility between the two of them.

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Day 87: Personality Swap

"Gentleman! That is enough," McGonagall snapped and the fist that Harry had been throwing at Malfoy's face came to a screeching halt. "Get off of the floor, both of you."

Malfoy shoved Harry off of him and climbed to his feet, wiping a bit of blood from his nose. Harry winced as he used his sore wrist to push himself to his feet as well, just noticing that one of the lenses in his glasses was chipped.

"My office," she said. "Immediately."

She started off with the air of someone who knew they had complete control, an army captain perhaps, and Harry was powerless to do anything but follow. He may have killed Voldemort but that didn't mean he wasn't still terrified of her wrath.

"Right," she said, once they arrived at her office, "sit."

They did, Harry pointedly refused to look over at Malfoy.

"Enough is enough, gentlemen. How many fights have I broken up this month alone?" she asked.

It was a rhetorical question but Harry knew it had been seven (and that wasn't counting the ones she hadn't broken up).

She sighed and took off her glasses, rubbing her eyes wearily. "I know the past year was harder on the both of you than it was on many other students. I won't pretend to understand your feelings and I won't try to tell you how to process and heal, but this can't continue."

Harry looked down at his hands, concentrating very hard on his thumbnail to try and counteract the way the world felt like it was shrinking in on him.

(Read more below the cut)

"So let's talk about it," she said reasonably.

Harry and Malfoy both groaned simultaneously, "But Professor-"

"No buts," she said cutting him off. "Mr. Potter, you go first. What is bothering you so about Mr. Malfoy?"

"I don't know," he grumbled, glaring down at his finger. "He's just," he trailed off uncertainly.

After a moment of silence she turned to the other boy. "Mr. Malfoy, same question."

"Honestly?" he said.

"That would be a refreshing change of pace," she replied.

"He's such an arrogant arse. Like, yes, you defeated the Dark Lord; great. Thanks so much and all, but can you stop rubbing it in everyone's faces all the time. We bloody know."

"I don't rub it in anyone's face!" Harry exploded because honestly, if everyone could just forget about it that would be preferable.

"Mr. Potter," she interrupted, "Would you like another chance at answering?"

Apparently the fire filling his veins would, "You were literally a death eater!" he exploded. "But you walk around with your nose in the air, acting like you're better than everyone else."

Malfoy inhaled but McGonagall cut him off, "I think I know what can solve this. Neither of you will believe the other unless you've experienced what their life is like," she mused. Then she rose from her desk and went to a cabinet filled with potions, "Here we are," she murmured as she picked up one that looked suspiciously like a polyjuice potion. "Give me one of your hairs, both of you."

Harry swallowed nervously but didn't dare disobey. Malfoy must have felt the same because he plucked a hair from his head and handed it over as well.

"This particular potion is brewed to last for about three hours," she said. "I'll expect you both in my office at that time," she informed them as she measured out two portions. "In the meantime, I want you to go and experience what life is like for the other. I'll inform Miss Parkinson, Mr. Weasley, and Miss Granger; we'll keep the three of them out of this experiment."

"You can't be serious, Professor!" Harry protested.

"I'm quite serious, Mr. Potter. It's either this or I make the two of you walk around holding hands during every waking moment for the next week."

At least the potion would be over in a few hours, Harry thought glumly. "Fine," he huffed.

"I thought you'd see it that way," she said as she nudged the two glasses across the table. "Bottoms up, gentlemen."

Harry took his and blew out a nervous huff before swallowing it down. It was awful but it somehow wasn't quite as terrible as he'd remembered it being. When he looked down at his hands, he saw that his skin had lightened, his fingers had lengthened, and everything felt a bit wrong.

"Off you pop," she said and Harry finally chanced a glance over to see his own image sitting in the chair next to him, squinting.

"Merlin, Potter, you're completely blind. Give me your hideous glasses."

He rolled his eyes, wondering if he looked as arrogant as Malfoy normally did, but handed his glasses over.

"Go," McGonagall said, "I'll see you in three hours. Good luck, gentlemen." As they started out, Harry could have sworn he heard her mutter, "You're going to need it."

----------

Harry had been ostracized by the school before. There had been times when people hadn't trusted him, when they'd believed rubbish printed about him, and when they'd wanted to stay as far away as they could.

Nothing had prepared him for what it was like to be Draco Malfoy.

For three hours people muttered unkind things under their breath, sent minor hexes flying at him when he back was turned, moved away from him the moment he sat down, had two drinks dumped on him, had a pile of books knocked from his arms, and all manner of other unpleasant things.

At first, Harry had still been angry enough that he felt like Malfoy deserved it. But as the three hours dragged on he started to feel more and more isolated, more and more alone. In all of the time he spent as Draco Malfoy, not one kind word was spoken to him and the kindest thing that anyone did was leave him alone.

He started back about five minutes early, only to run into Malfoy at the staircase. They stared at one another for a long moment before both of them blurted, "I'm sorry," at the same time.

Malfoy shook his head, "I-"

"No, let me go first," Harry insisted. "I thought that the reason you always acted so aloof was because you thought you were better than everyone else," he said, "but that's not why, is it?"

"It used to be," he said with a pained looking shrug.

"But not now," Harry said as he nodded slowly, "it must be lonely."

"Not any more than it is to be you," the other boy protested. "You're surrounded by people all day long who are fawning over you but it's impossible to know who is being genuine and who is just trying to get a piece of you because you're the savior."

As he finished saying that, the potion began to wear off and Harry watched as the boy in front of him returned to his body.

When he felt like himself again, Harry rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, it's not a walk in the park being Harry Potter. Still," he said, "I think it's harder being you."

"I'm not so sure," the other boy laughed, "I think I'll take the animosity. At least I know where people stand."

He hummed, "I think I'm changing my mind on where I stand," Harry replied. "Do you think there might be room to stand beside you?"

A smile flickered across his face before it disappeared, "I don't know, with all of your adoring fans I think it's you we ought to be worried about."

"Maybe you'll scare them away," Harry laughed.

"One can only hope," Malfoy replied.

Harry gave him a little smile, "Could we try again?"

"I'd like that."

After a moment he held out his hand, "Harry Potter, don't believe a word you hear about me, I'm not half of the things people say I am."

The other boy stared at his hand for a long moment before taking it. "Draco Malfoy," he replied, "I probably was most of the things that people say I am but I'm trying hard to be better."

"Friends?"

"Friends."

---------

Day 86: Sixth Anniversary | Day 87: Heels, Make Up, Glitter, Gold

sorry friends, this one's a bit rough. It should really be fleshed out a bit more but I can't today. Someday I'll get back into the swing of things, I promise.

[wheelsupnthirty]

talk too much || f.w.

x slytherin fem!reader

hi all! this is my first whole length fic i've written, but i simp so hard for fred weasley. its based loosely on the song "talk too much" by COIN (i suggest listening half way through!) anyway, hope you enjoy!

tw: swearing, kissing, mention of violence (playfully)

studying in the hogwarts library used to be a peaceful experience. that is, until a certain red-haired duo decided that the library was to be their new prank-planning office.

"you know who we should hit next fred?" the first asked.

"i bet i do brother" returned the second

"snape!" they shouted in unison.

you groan and turn yourself around to face the ginger pair that had made your last two weeks a living hell. "will you two shut it?"

they laugh at your way-too-serious remark and george decides to speak first.

"oh! look who's getting feisty, eh brother?"

"indeed she is, george, shall we shut it?"

"hmm i don't think so"

"well will you gits at least use a silencing charm or something? merlin you weasleys talk too much"

"alright alright y/l/n we'll keep it down, all in good fun"

good fun. right. it's always good fun when you fail your o.w.l.s because you had nowhere to study in peace. you'd tried the slytherin common room, but malfoy and his crew ruined that quite quickly. the great hall was packed constantly, and the room of requirement felt cold compared to the welcoming walls filled with old books and warm lighting that the library gave you. the worst part about it all was that you had begun to fancy the very boy who caused you so much frustration. you guess he wasn't too horrible in terms of looks, but that mouth never stopped running.

on the way to your potions class, your favorite, but filled with people who ticked you off the most, you almost had a heart attack, courtesy of one frederick weasley. he had been developing a new "device" that spit out mini fireworks out of thin air. his lab rat? you.

"what the fuck weasley? what in the bloody hell is wrong with you?"

in between fits of laughter he managed to get out "new project" and "havent-(hahaha)-name-(snort)-yet"

"i swear to merlin fred, one more prank and i swear i'll shove a firework up your arse" you spat out, gathered your books and silently cursed all past, present and any future weasleys.

"today, students, we will be making amortentia, i'm sure you're all familiar, so get busy" echoed the nasally voice of one severus snape. of course, you listened and began reading the directions that were neatly inked onto the parchment in front of you. to no one's surprise at all, you were the first to finish, and you had made it perfectly. the only problem was that snape decided to "suggest" that those who had successfully brewed their amortentia should share with the rest of the class what their's smelled like. you weren't worried at first, until you smelled yours.

"miss y/l/n, you will go first"

"erm," you wafted the mist to your nose, "smoke" specifically from a firework, but you were not about to say that out loud. "sweets, and cinnamon." you stepped back from your cauldron and tried not to think about the smell that you first identified. it was just from earlier. there was no way that fred weasley was going to be your soulmate. your stupid crush on him was simply a coping mechanism for his idiotic pranks that plagued you..right?

"thank you, miss y/l/n. mister weasley- not you george- since you think this class is so hilarious, you will go next"

you shot up and looked at fred, hoping that what he'd smell wasn't you, but he noticed your gaze. "no problem professor!" he said cheerfully with a smirk, and a wink tossed at you. "mine smells of mint and-" he took a bigger, more dramatic sniff, "lavender" he said, a tad more serious than just a second before. only you seemed to notice, though, as no one else seemed to think anything of it.

fred sat back down next to his counterpart and put on his usual jovial personality for everyone to see. you can't stop thinking about your potion, though. it was just your robes. just leftover from his prank. suddenly, a paper airplane hits the side of your head. you sigh and roll your eyes, because you know just who it came from.

gryffindor common room, 11:00 tonight. please. we need to talk. f.w.

no way in hell you were meeting him there. it was probably just another prank. you want him to know that you know what he's up to, so you crumble the piece of parchment right in front of him.

later that evening, you escape to the library, but only when you've made sure there were no freckled, ginger men infesting it. studying, however, proved extremely difficult. you wanted to know what fred wanted. your curiosity seemed to take control of your actions as you stood up and made your way to the gryffindor common room. you snuck up to the fat lady and she looked at you, eyebrow raised, and very plainly asked, "password?" shit you didn't even think about needing a password. before you could utter a gibberish guess, the painting opened and fred crept out from behind it.

"you came, good" he said, genuinely relieved that you had showed up.

"what is it you want, weasley?" you whispered, slightly annoyed with yourself for ending up here in the first place.

"amortentia. mint and lavender. d'you know who that is?" he asked you.

"why would i know who your soulmate is, fred? and why do you care anyway? it's not like you're gonna find them tonight."

"and here i though you were brilliant, y/n" you were shocked, that was the first time he had ever called you by your first name.

"if you wanted to annoy me, you could have just pulled another dumb prank. shoved some fizzing whizbees in my coffee or something. you didn't have to call me here" with that, he had given up, putting on his normal persona.

"you're right, thanks for the idea y/l/n i'll have to try it on you sometime. i'm sure george will get a kick out of it as well. d'you think whizbees or puking pastilles? you know what, i'll surprise you instead!" he smiled. he loved riling you up, you're cute when you're angry.

"you talk too much" you said, and with a turn of your heel, you were on your way back to your dorm.

"and you study too much! you can't take a joke to save your life, y/l/n, maybe one of these days you'll come over here and shut me up yourse-" he was cut off by your lips being newly placed on his. it was all in a feat of shutting him up. then you realized what you had done.

stay cool, it's just a kiss

"why you gotta be so talkative?" you said, impressively keeping your composure. fred, on the other hand, was completely shellshocked, frozen. "what's the matter weasley? never been kissed before?" your words went in one ear and out the other for him. he couldn't care less what your lips said when they weren't on his.

he grabbed your wrist and pulled you back to him, earning a gasp from you, which he used to his advantage. he slipped his tongue in your mouth and savored every inch of you. you had forgotten everything you had been mad about before. your hands found his hair and tangled themselves in it. he melted into you, moving his hands to your legs, and hoisting you up around his waist. he carried you to the couch in the middle of the common room, and laid you down quick. amidst all the snogging, you remembered your anger from before and promptly pulled away.

"i.. i have to go. this was a mistake." you said quietly, trying to compose yourself enough to leave the couch.

"was it? it was you i smelled, y/n. the mint from your toothpaste? the lavender from your perfume? it's always been you." he sounded so sincere, something you'd never thought in a million years you'd hear. "stay, please"

he leaned toward you again and cupped your cheek in his hand. he pulled you just close enough that you would have to close the gap between you. you hesitated for a moment, but kissed him again. he seemed to mimic your every move with complete perfection. he linked his fingers with yours and deepened the kiss until you had to come up for air. you stared into his cinnamon eyes for what seemed like eternity until you noticed movement in the corner of the room. fred followed your eyes and said,

"george what the hell mate? how long you been standin' there?"

"oi don't let me get in the way of your snogging, simply left my books down here." he replied, with the cheekiest wink you had quite possibly ever seen. your face grew hot and you shuffled out from under fred, making your way quickly out of the common room. fred wasn't letting you get away that easy, though.

"same time tomorrow?" he asked slyly.

"in your dreams, weasley." you half-jokingly replied. you knew he'd be in yours tonight.

[footballxwrites]

Finding out your pregnant and you wait a bit to tell Chilly because hes now on the bench w Chelsea w Lamps leaving so he’s got stuff going on... so you decide to tell one day but you catch him at a bad time and his reaction is awful, he says something like “are you fucking serious, I don’t need this on my plate” and you’re absolutely shattered but cos of lockdown you can’t really go anywhere so you just avoid him at home and he’s feeling absolutely rotten about his reaction once he’s calm because it’s something he wanted now deep down and is actually happy about. Please make it angsty with a cute ending

Unplanned Surprise ♡

𝖨 𝖾𝗇𝗃𝗈𝗒𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖺 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝗍𝗈𝗈 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝖨 𝗁𝗈𝗉𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗉𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾 𝗅𝖾𝗍 𝗆𝖾 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄!

The single stick sat on the edge of the bathroom sink as a series of “No” ran through your mind while you paced back and forth in a panic. Your period, which has never been late before, didn’t make an appearance for a couple of weeks so you figured you’d do a pregnancy test, mainly as a joke to “prove” your friends wrong and show them that there was no possible way you could be carrying a baby...well so you thought. The topic of having children hadn’t really crossed your mind and it’s definitely something you and Ben had never spoke about, I mean yous are barely adults yourselves and just finding your feet in the world, with you settling into a nice new job after not long graduating Uni and him transferring to Cheslea to progress in the football career. You were absolutely shitting your pants about telling him, one because he’s been in a mood all week and two because this could go either way, the likely option being him going off it with you or the other not so likely option of him being somewhat happy with the news of a mini Chilwell.

———————————————————

“He fucking went and benched me again didn’t he” Ben shouted, storming through the front door, it slamming hard behind him, and dropping all his gear before collapsing on the sofa with a deep groan of annoyance. “I’m sure you’ll get a game soon” you smiled back, walking into the living room with two cups of tea, “I’ve been telling myself that for weeks and I’m still sat there looking a right dick being a sub for the 90 mins” he continued as you sat and listened to his rant, to be fair you weren’t actually taking in a single word coming from his mouth, instead trying to plan out a way to tell him your surprise that was far from a happy one. “I mean fair enough if I do fuck all in training THEN I’d understand why he doesn’t play me, but I work my arse off day in day out and for what, him to just not even consider putting me on for say the last half an hour, even that would be something” he explained as you gave a hummed reply.

“Are you alright?” Ben asked, gripping your hips and lifting them so you were straddling him, your arms straight away finding him neck and wrapping themselves around them as he tucked the loose piece of hair behind your ear. “Yeah yeah just in my own little word” you reassured him, leaning down and giving him a little peck in the lips, your heart rate increasing the more you thought about telling him, “anyways I never usually get a cuppa and that when I get home, what are you after” he joked as you nervously laughed, knowing at some point the news would have to come out and you couldn’t butter him up forever.

“Fuck it” you muttered as he gave you a small “huh” along with a look of confusion, “I’m pregnant” you blurted out with a sigh, instantly closing your eyes and not wanting to see the reaction from your boyfriend. “You what? No, you can’t be” he said, slowly shuffling to sit up when you whipped out the test from the pocket of your hoodie and handed it to him, “but we are careful, you’re on the pill and we always use a condom” he said, trying to make sense of the situation. “Christmas Eve, when we had way to much to drink and had a bit of fun...” you started, trailing off, “and we didn’t have any protection” Ben said, finishing your sentence as you moved to stand up, still not being able to tell what he was thinking, “but even still you’re on the pill?” He stated, sort of questioning himself, as you gazed down, not wanting to look him in the eyes, “I forgot, I didn’t take it” you admitted in a mumble. “You’re having a laugh right, how the fuck could you forgot to take a pill you’ve been taking for the last TWO years!” He shouted, making you jump a little as he stomped off to the kitchen with a thud, “it was an accident, we were drunk for god’s sake, try remembering to take something when you’re suffering a hangover!” you harshly replied as he let out a sarcastic laugh, “this is all I need right now, a fucking baby” he dramatically sighed as you stared at him in utter disbelief. “What and you think I don’t? My career is basically gone because of this Ben and all you care about is yourself, you selfish dick” you cried, feeling a few tears slide down your cheeks, “oh do you know what if you’re going to be like this then you can do one, talk to me when you’re ready to accept the fact you’re going to be a dad!” were your last words to him that night before you ran up the stairs to bed, shattered and not in the mood for an argument this late.

———————————————————

You somehow managed to keep your distance for the last week and a bit, basically locking yourself away in the bedroom or going for walk, some days even working overtime just to avoid interacting with him and it wasn’t ideal in the slightest but you were determined to not let him get to you, knowing (hoping) he’d eventually come around. Ben was also doing his best to stay away from you, not because he was angry or annoyed anymore, but because he felt awful for the way he talked to you, of course he didn’t blame you and obviously he deep down knew it was a genuine mistake and so regretted the way he acted towards you. Right now all he needed to do was be there for you and your new family member and gain some responsibility for once in his life.

“Can I come in” you heard emerge from the door along with a faint knock and sorry looking Ben peeking his head into the room, “if you want” you muttered, keeping your eyes glued to the tv and not moving from your comfy position of lying on your bed, surrounded by the million pillows and duvets. “I’m so sorry” he whispered, climbing under the sheets next to you and placing a small kiss on your forehead, “fine” you effortlessly said with a sigh, “it’s not your fault, none of it is, I’m as much to blame and I should’ve taken responsibility straight away. I want to be a dad and a good one hopefully, and for you to be the best mum our little baby could ever wish for, which I know you will be” he smiled as you raised your head to meet his gaze, a grin coming across your face, glad to finally hear some words of positivity come from him. “I’m sorry as well, I know it was daft of me to forget the pill and all...but I’m kind of happy this happened, I really want to give our son or daughters best life he/she could wish for” you softly spoke as he put a hand on your belly and traced the very small bump with his fingers before whispering “daddy loves you already” ❤️

@alexajanecollins @kingkepa @trentski26 @footballerimaginess @footballcloud @kierantierncy @jamesmaddiscnx @champagne-coys

[oliverwvvd]

the devil in me, part ii

Back to writing these two, inevitably, at long last. This is for the lovely anon who dropped by and mentioned this one, despite it having been years since the last post. This is slightly trigger heavy, so sorry if the triggers contain spoilers, but people's mental health comes first so they can choose whether or not to engage with the content.

This is part of a series. You can find part one here.

pairing: Marcus Flint x Oliver Wood

premise: When Marcus wakes again in the endless white of St Mungo's, Oliver is still there, and his wand is still gone. Marcus thinks it's about debts owed, or at least, that's what he's trying to tell himself. Whatever other reasons might keep Oliver Wood at his bedside aren't remotely within a framework he's equipped to handle. [possible triggers: severe PTSD, hospitals, battle situations, Legilimency, implied invasion of the mind, implied intention not to survive]

When he wakes, one needle is back in his arm and Marcus’ first inclination is to be pissed off about it. Of course it is. Being angry is the best alternative, sublimation for all of the other emotions he should be feeling and isn’t. He doesn’t need any St Mungo’s trained therapist to tell him about that, mainly because it’s deliberate on his part.

“For fuck’s sake,” he mutters. “I don’t want painkiller withdrawal on top of everything else. The dosage has to be sky-high for me not to be feeling anything.”

“So you’d rather have the searing amount of pain that makes you pass out within minutes instead? You’re right; being a masochist is a much better idea.”

He closes his eyes. “Why are you still here, again?”

“Waiting for you to take your head out of your arse, though it seems I’ll be in for a long wait.” The tart rejoinder in a lovely, rolling Scottish brogue that he instinctively wants to wrap himself in doesn’t help his temper. Neither does the fact that Oliver is still too earnest despite the familiar barb in the words, as though he thinks he owes Marcus something. The stubborn set to his jaw is familiar too, viewed more than once when facing him on a Quidditch pitch.

It makes Marcus want to push him away for his own safety, because don’t you know what I am? Instead, his gaze is sulky, as though he’s a teenager again in a way he hasn’t been in years, and it’s solely fixed on Oliver. “I don’t like you, and I don’t want you here,” he says, and if that’s not the biggest lie he’s told in the past couple of years, he’s not entirely sure what is.

Oliver shrugs. “That’s too bad, Flint, because I’m not going anywhere.” He’s wearing a poloneck jumper, just like he used to at school when it got to winter weekends out of uniform, and Marcus has the fleeting, horrifying thought that maybe it covers bruises or worse. A second thought just as horrifying resurfaces: he still doesn’t have his wand.

That thought makes him abruptly change the subject. “Alright, Wood, since you’re here, be a good boy and tell me why I don’t have my wand.” It’s not a question. He doesn’t phrase it as one. To punctuate it and make it clear he’s not asking, Marcus opts to verbally twist the knife for good measure. “You owe me. That’s why you’re here, right? To settle the debt. So start talking.” That’s not a question either, because why else Oliver might be there is more than he can possibly handle getting into.

Oliver’s (Wood’s, damn it) expression darkens momentarily, as though he’s about to pick a fight. Marcus wants him to, because at least that would be normal, but he sees it the moment that Oliver registers he’s in a hospital bed all over again, sees the way his gaze turns pained and then the shutters draw closed again so he’s at a loss for what the other is thinking. He doesn’t like it. Oliver was always an open book, no filter, no love lost on his side of the equation. He doesn’t know what this new thing is.

He clears his throat brusquely. “Well?”

Oliver sighs. “They’re concerned about your mental state as well. That’s why you don’t have your wand. They thought you might try something you’d regret.”

Fury is, of course, the quickest and most reliable reaction. “So they thought they’d improve things by taking away the only piece of autonomy I had available to me for months? That’s genius thinking, that is. Who do I need to see to recommend them for promotion?”

Oliver’s lips twitch briefly then, clearly catching the sarcasm, but at the same time seemingly unable to smile at it. That’s fine, because it’s not funny at all.

Marcus exhales a sharp sigh, one that’s less exasperated by this point than unimpressed. “I suppose they thought I’d curse the whole place down, eh?” This time, it is a question, and the smile that goes with it isn’t genuine, it’s mean and sharp-edged. It’s an echo of all the ugly things that have stained his hands and his mind, and it occurs to him that throughout that, Oliver has been the only good thing, a pure thing he’d constructed for himself, a secret he kept that was sometimes the only reason he didn’t give in altogether. Now that’s done and it’s back to reality.

To his consternation, Oliver shakes his head, as though he can sense what Marcus is thinking. “No one believes that after the battle. You threw yourself in the way of someone that would have been dead if you hadn’t, without knowing whether you’d survive.” The words seemed hard for Oliver to speak, as though it was like a demon lived in his throat for as long as they sat there. “They didn’t know if you were going to pull through, the first couple of days.”

An eye-roll is Marcus’ first response to that, and he averts his gaze from Oliver then. “That was sort of the bloody point, Wood.” The words fall heavily in the room between them, but this time it’s not out of malice, it’s from defeat, an admission that he should have kept to himself. The anger hasn’t emptied its well yet, but for the time being, it’s quiet, a savage thing made somnolent again by the fact that he can feel the needle in his arm start to pour more potion into him. Presumably, it’s going to knock him out eventually.

Oliver’s own exhale is shaken, as though Marcus has punched him square in the solar plexus and it hurts, badly. After all these months of silence, it’s as though the casually cruel words aiming to drive him away are doing more damage than even the war has managed to. “Flint, you can’t just…”

Marcus wants to sit up again but the potion, damn it, feels like it’s got him pinned in place. That makes him edgy, makes him feel the cold sweat of panic beginning to prick, and he absolutely will not have a panic attack of any kind in front of an audience. He swallows hard, and Oliver seems unable to finish the sentence. It hangs there between them, unfinished.

That’s the moment that the door creaks open and the healer walks in, oblivious to the conversation that had been happening beforehand. Oliver leans back in the chair beside Marcus’ bed.

Marcus’ lip curls just slightly. “Come to check I’m still breathing?” he asks snidely. “Sorry to disappoint. You can go now, your duty is done.”

The healer does no such thing. “I’d hoped you’d be asleep by now,” he says with a tsk tsk sound that reminds Marcus of the teachers from school whenever he didn’t do his homework correctly. It does nothing to endear the man to him at all. “Evidently we need to increase your dosage. You shouldn’t have ripped those needles out of your arm as soon as you did, but Mr Wood tells me you have a remarkably high tolerance for pain.”

That causes Marcus’ gaze to narrow in Oliver’s direction, and it’s as accusing as it gets.

Oliver, to his credit (the little of it that Marcus is currently willing to give) doesn’t look away. “I’ve been in the Hospital Wing with you multiple times,” is the reminder that unexpectedly arrives, softer than he’s ever deserved. “You never took your painkillers. You always cast Evanesco.”

On the one hand, Marcus’ glare only intensifies, because Oliver’s just ratted him out to the healer. On the other, what does it even mean that Oliver remembers; how there seems to be something dark and sad behind his gaze ever since a few minutes ago. It doesn’t correlate with his real life knowledge of Wood, only the fantasy version he constructed in his head to have a reason to go on, and Marcus is fully aware of how incredibly unhealthy that was and is.

It’s only the healer’s voice that interrupts their charged stare, clearly ready to go for another lecture. “Well, there will be no hiding painkillers here. What were you thinking, taking those out? Did you just not realise the degree of damage you took?” It isn’t an indignant pair of questions, instead asked with the tone of someone who wants to understand the subject they are studying. It presses all of the wrong buttons for Marcus, and he endures it in silence until he can’t.

This is the moment he snaps. But it isn’t like every other time he’s lost his temper. No, this is different; his voice is surprisingly quiet and unsteady when he speaks. “Why does everyone want to know what I’m thinking suddenly? I’ve just spent the last two years having my mind pulled apart at a moment’s notice. All that I want is for everyone to stop trying to get into my head because I don’t want anyone in there ever again. Got it? It’s none of your business what I’m thinking.”

Dimly, he registers that Oliver has gone pale as he starts to understand what Marcus means. The healer looks appalled, because evidently, this was something undetectable while he was unconscious, and he’s beyond lashing out, because this has hit places he doesn’t want to go.

“Get out.” The words are quieter still, and there’s a flat, dulled down, deadly note to them.

Even half-conscious on a bed, drugged by the potion, it leaves to question what Marcus is capable of, the one thing no one has dared to think about so far. It’s a weak threat, but his voice carries all of it, like it’s every atom of a star at the moment of destruction.

The healer leaves. Oliver doesn’t, because Oliver hasn’t learned to be afraid of him, even though he should have.

When Marcus looks at him again, he thinks that he sees Oliver flinch, just a little around the eyes, and he knows he’s going to say something unforgivable if he isn’t left alone. “I meant you as well.” The words are empty. You need to go before I do any more things that I regret, and I can’t live with any more.

Oliver doesn’t listen. Instead, he does something that Marcus can handle even less. He climbs onto the bed and rests there next to him, close enough for Marcus to feel him breathe. “You’re really not a good listener, Flint. I already told you. I’m not leaving.”

Marcus’ hands suddenly feel too heavy, utterly ineffectual when he tries to raise them to push Wood right off the bed. Land on his arse. That’ll show him. Instead, his head starts to nod forward, and Oliver, the scheming bastard, must have known that the potion would take effect soon, had kept him talking until he had no choice but to go back to sleep again.

He’s so angry. He’s exhausted. He’s repeating the same cycle, inescapable, stuck on a loop of his own making. There’s wool against his face, something warm against his back. Oliver’s voice is there, he can feel it rumble in his chest, but the words don’t even register. It’s a warm sound, like copper and firelight, and it’s the last thing in his dwindling awareness before the world is lost altogether.

The frightening part is that he’s starting to want to wake up again. 

That wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

[wlntrsldler]

unrequited (draco malfoy/ cedric diggory series)

PROMPT: You and Cedric grew up together. After the tragedy of the Triwizard Tournament, you’re left feeling empty without your best friend. Draco Malfoy steps into the picture. Will the feelings be reciprocated? Or will it be unrequited?

WARNINGS: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, angst, fluff, sadness???

PAIRING: draco malfoy x reader and cedric diggory x reader; hufflepuff reader

WC: 2.1K+

UNREQUITED MASTERLIST

UNREQUITED PLAYLISTS (SEND ME SONGS!)

-

PART 8

Much to your dismay, you and Draco went back to acting like you didn’t know each other after that night. He avoided you at all costs, even going as far as moving his seat in Potions. Snape caught on after a while, eyeing Draco from the other side of the room when he would try to subtly look at you. 

He stopped looking at you in the Great Hall, changing his seat so his back was facing you. You didn’t know what happened or what you did, but it bothered you. He closed himself off again, reverting back to the Draco you despised. Although he no longer made fun of you and your friends, it still hurt knowing that he acted like you didn’t exist.

You were in your dormitory, doing some last minute packing. Everyone else was already off on their way home for the holidays. The Weasleys, Hermione and Harry left for the Burrow some time ago, leaving you to yourself as you said you had to take care of something beforehand. You wanted to go somewhere before the holidays.

You placed the last sweater into your backpack, letting out a breath of relief that you were finally done with packing. You always hated packing, that’s why you pushed it off to the very last minute. You zipped up your backpack and placed it at the foot of your bed, mentally scolding yourself for working to fit everything in one bag. You knew your back was going to kill you. 

You tugged your coat on, double checking to see if you had everything. The golden bottle of cologne stood lonesome on your desk, reminding you that you had to pack it. You walked over, getting a hold of the bottle and spritizing some on. Chamomile and honey, just how you like it. 

“Y/N?” 

Startled, you dropped the bottle, the contents spilling out of the broken glass. You turned around, surprised that there were even still people in the castle. You saw Draco standing by the doorway, eyes apologetic when he saw the wet stain on the floor caused by your cologne. You scolded, “Merlin, Draco. Don’t sneak up on me like that.” 

“Sorry,” He apologized, awkwardly standing by the door.

You knelt down and picked up the large pieces, tossing them in the trash. You wiped up the cologne, cursing that you had to wait until you got back to pick up a new bottle. “What are you doing here?” 

“I just wanted to wish you a Happy Christmas.” Draco stated. “I know it’s been really weird between us and I just-” He took in a breath. “I just wanted to say have a Happy Christmas.”

“I wonder why it’s been weird.” You snapped, picking up your bag to make your way out of the dormitories. “Seriously, Draco. What the hell is wrong with you?”

He groaned, shutting the door behind him. He approached you, not wanting to startle you so he calmed himself down before he stopped in front of you. “I know, Y/N. I’ve been an arse. I just-”

“You what?” 

“Let me finish.” He huffed, crossing his arms over his chest like a child. “I just can’t talk about the Dark Lord and stuff like that. I get a squirmy.” 

“Squirmy?” 

“Yeah, you know like… I get weir-”

You cut him off again, “I know what it means, Draco. I’m asking, why?”

He groaned again, rubbing his eyes with his palms.”That’s- It’s complicated.”

“I hate that phrase.” 

He cocked an eyebrow, “Well, there’s no better way of saying it.” 

“I guess.”

“Y/N,” His voice was calmer now. He sounded more at ease than before. He stepped towards you, grabbing you by the shoulders to steady you. “It’s complicated, okay? I just can’t talk about it. Especially not with you.” 

You stared at his hands on your body. You couldn’t help but smile at how absurd you two must look right now. Draco Malfoy, the touch starved boy, holding onto you like a lifeline with the most worried look on his face that anyone has ever seen, in the middle of a Hufflepuff girl dormitory. His eyes were pleading, expensive shoes getting stained by the leftover cologne you didn’t wipe clean, and his fingers digging into your skin, but not to the point where it hurt. You don’t know how you got here, but you did. 

You chuckled, raising your hand to place it on top of his- less cold than you remembered. “Okay, Draco.”

He smiled, eyes darting down to where you touched him. “Okay.” 

You moved his hand to intertwine your fingers, an action that seemed so natural. You hummed in appreciation as he rubbed his thumb over the top of your hand. You traced the veins on his hand with your other hand, drawing figure-eights on his pale skin. He shivered under your feather light touch. You both looked up at the same time, eyes twinkling with something new. You didn’t know what it was but it was nice. Being with Draco, this Draco, was nice. 

You stood there for a while, just smiling at each other like fools. You tried to look away so many times but his smile was addicting. It was a crime that he didn’t do it more often. His smile was contagious. And when he let out a genuine laugh at how long you two held your stares, probably realizing how stupid you were both acting, you could’ve swore your heart fluttered in your chest. Draco Malfoy, you thought, who would’ve known?

“Well,” He started, backing away but his sheepish smile remained on his face. “Happy Christmas, Y/N. I’ll see you after the holidays. Enjoy your time with the Weasleys.” 

Your smile faltered a bit, not wanting him to go so soon, but it was progress. You’d take it over nothing. “Bye Draco. Enjoy your holiday, as well.” 

He gave you a courteous nod before walking out of your dormitory, shutting the door quietly behind him. The castle was quiet enough that you heard his footsteps receding down the hallway. You plopped down on your bed, unable to stop smiling and replaying the scene that happened in front of you. What the hell was going on? 

You left the castle an hour after your encounter with Draco. You made your way to the cemetery where Cedric was put to rest. It was your first time going since the funeral and a part of you felt guilty because of it. You knew you should’ve been there more often and visited him but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Seeing his name engraved in the stone made it too real and for a long time you weren’t ready to face a reality that didn’t have Cedric in it. 

You knew he would’ve wanted you to continue living. He always found the value of life, always telling you to look on the bright side of things. He was a glass half-full type of person, always was. He would joke around when you were younger that if he were to die early, he wanted you to keep him in the back of your mind, but never let his death keep you from being happy. He would’ve been disappointed in you, the first few months of his death, because you did exactly what he said not to do. But now, you tried to obey his wishes. 

You felt the snowfall as you walked towards the gates of the cemetery. You carried your backpack with your clothes on your back, unable to feel the pain as the lines of tombstones made you feel numb. You’d only been there once but it was like your feet knew exactly where to go. 

Nobody was around, which made sense. It was cold out and the snow kept falling with no hesitations. Everyone was indoors, snuggled up in blankets with their loved ones. You saw some indents of footsteps going in and out of the cemetery. You studied them for a moment. One set of footprints belonged to a child; you could tell because it was so small. It reminded you of yours when you first buried your mother in the Muggle cemetery, holding your aunt’s hand tightly as you cried into your shoulder. 

You saw a field of flowers by one tombstone and you knew it was Cedric’s. Your heart skipped when you saw how many people still thought of him. It made you feel like you weren’t alone, for once. Like you weren’t crazy for always thinking of him, dreaming of him, almost feeling his touch. Maybe nobody else missed him in the same way as you did, but it was comforting to know that other people missed him too. Was that horrible? 

You sat in front of the tombstone, Cedric’s name seemed to blind you. You felt tears prick your eyes as they danced over the fresh flowers people left on his grave. A few from some Hufflepuffs, a bouquet from Mr. Diggory, and one from the Trio and the twins. You smiled, knowing they stopped by before you did to pay their respects. You really did have the best of friends. 

“Hey Ced,” You greeted, unable to stop the tears from falling. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around lately. I couldn’t bring myself to see you. Selfish, right? You’re the one who died and I’m the one who’s acting like her life is over.” You chuckled, half expecting him to laugh with you. He always laughed at your pitiful jokes. 

“Um, a lot has changed, Ced. Christmas is a few days from now and I know you won’t be there to wake me up. I haven’t seen your dad in a while. It’s gonna be weird without his pancakes.” You bit your lip, uncontrollably shaking. “I’m spending it with the Weasley’s, though, Harry and Hermione, too. They help a lot. They help me a lot.” 

You cleared your throat, digging through your bag to pull out his journal. “I hope you don’t mind but I-I’ve been reading your journal. Your dad gave it to me for my birthday this year. It makes me feel like you’re still around. Like sometimes, I talk to myself, out loud, because I think you’re gonna reply and I look next to me and you’re not there. And I just-” You stopped for a second, trying to steady your voice. “And I just miss you, Ced. I don’t know life without you. You’re my best friend and you’re supposed to be here. You know? You arse. You’re supposed to be here and tell me everything’s gonna be okay and that you love me and this is just a bad dream.” 

You could almost hear his voice, calm and steady, telling you to take a deep breath. He always did that whenever you grew frustrated with him, which he hates to admit, happened a lot. You would be so close to throwing things at him when he pissed you off and he would wrap his arms around you, let you cry and ruin his clothes, while helping you match your breathing with his. Cedric was always so good with that. Always so good with you. 

But he wasn’t there now. And it was unfair of you, you know it was, but you couldn’t help it. You were mad. You were angry. You were hurt that he had to die and leave you to figure life out without him. You lost so many people and loved so hard only for love to spit in your face. You always thought Cedric would be the last person to go. 

Yes, you were selfish. Unfair. Cruel. But dammit, Cedric’s gone. And you were by yourself. 

Your voice grew louder, “You’re supposed to hold me and tell me I’m overreacting. That’s what we do, Ced! We don’t leave each other. You never left me before. Why did you have to go?” Your voice cracked, hands trembling. You noticed how loud you were when the birds flew away at the sound of your voice. You whispered, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell.”

You sniffled, wiping your nose on your coat. “Ced, I wish you were here. I wish it everyday. There’s nothing I wouldn’t give to have you back just for a day, even. An hour. A minute. Anything, Cedric Diggory. I just… I want more time with you. I didn’t get to say goodbye.” 

You placed your palm on his tombstone, like how you used to do on his chest to feel his heart beating under you. “I didn’t get to tell you that I love you back.”

-

A/N: sorry if i spam you guys with updates but i literally LOVE writing this fic. the minute i hit over 2K words and i like the way i ended the chapter, i publish it right away. so if there’s some errors im so sorry. im just too excited LOL. 

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[cynical-mystic]

I didn’t think I’d like Elementary, but here we are.

I just finished a COVID induced binge of Elementary, and I have a lot of feelings.

First off, I’m furious with my teenage self for writing off this show after season one. This show is a beautiful representation of my two favorite literary characters, and I’m livid that the Sherlock hype made me write it off. Sherlock wishes it was this show.

I’m putting my feelings under a cut for spoiler purposes and length purposes.

Joan Watson is an icon. If you, for a moment, ever said to yourself, “Watson can’t be a woman” for WHATEVER reason, you should be ashamed. When a female Watson is done right, it’s magical. And this show is the embodiment of a female Watson done right.

The first thing that struck me about Joan Watson is how she dresses. She is fabulous. Constantly.

The second thing that struck me is that, unlike her original counterpart, she is not a bumbling idiot. Holmes chooses her because of how remarkable she is, not because it’s convenient. Her remarkableness is reinforced at every turn. Every person they encounter acknowledges that Watson is Holmes’ equal, including Holmes himself. Once she decides to become a detective, she is his partner in every sense of the word but a romantic one.

This leads me to my next point. From what I recall, everyone was complaining about Watson being a woman because there would be romantic undertones and they’d have sex and it would ruin everything blah blah blah. However, there is none of that. Yes, Watson is the person Holmes loves most in the world, but, newsflash, you can love someone deeply and have no romantic attachment/attraction to them! Another great thing about this is Watson feels exactly the same way about Holmes, and there is absolutely no “she loves him but he doesn’t love her so she spends the whole time pining for him in a romantic way” bullshit. Their relationship is the pinnacle of what it means to love someone completely without being romantically involved.

Some of my favorite Holmes/Watson love moments:

“For you, Watson, I would make adjustments.” - said in response to Watson being concerned about adopting a baby, it living in the brownstone with them, and how that would affect Holmes.

“I’m staying, Watson.” - Holmes finds out Watson has cancer and this is the first time Holmes hugs anyone on-screen of his own accord. He promises to stay with her to help her through it, even though he’s legally dead.

“We’re not partners. We’re two people that love each other.” - said to Watson by Holmes when he’s on the cusp of leaving for London after having confessed to a murder to keep Watson from taking the fall for it (she was innocent, btw; watch the show).

“The thought of her little boy coming home to find me on the floor with a needle in my arm” - Holmes telling Gregson about how he can’t stay; he doesn’t want to put Watson or her son in danger.

Watson telling Holmes’ father he needs more time with her as his sober companion, his father saying her time won’t be extended, and Watson staying with him even though she won’t get paid because she cares about him and wants to make sure he gets through the betrayal he just experienced.

Holmes telling Moriarty there are two people in the world she can’t predict and Watson rolling in like a bamf with Marcus and other officers to take Moriarty into custody, and Moriarty subsequently putting Watson and Holmes on the same level with regards to how she treats them.

Mycroft acknowledging that Watson is the person Holmes loves most in the world when they’re trying to find her after she’s been kidnapped.

Someone saying Ms. Watson should step out bc he doesn’t want her to see what he’s brought and Holmes going, actually she’s a doctor and can take whatever you’ve got.

“As long as we’re together, does it matter?” - the last line of the fucking show al;sndpiuahpoih[oaivhoej

These two had so many beautiful moments that were never romantically coded and that makes them so much better. They don’t need to be in a romantic relationship to be the most important person in each others’ lives. HIT ME WITH THAT KIND OF LOVE.

Now, for Sherlock Holmes. This is my favorite adaptation of this character. This Holmes goes from being a complete git to a lovable, quirky man so fluidly you don’t even realize it’s happened until you’re in the middle of it. Darcy, eat your heart out.

This Holmes also truly cares about the people he’s working with and/or for. Yes, he’s doing it for the work and the justice and the sake of solving problems, but he genuinely cares about people and can relate to them. Him being a recovering addict is probably the best thing he could have been. His body language and the meetings and everything about him show how hard he’s working to be a better person and how that’s coming across in his work. He doesn’t treat the people around him like objects to be used, but like people who are hurting. People who need help. Just...people. 

A human Sherlock Holmes? Who’s dealing with the repercussions of his past as an absolute arse in a legitimate, realistic way? Sign me the fuck up. I believe in Sherlock Holmes. In this Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock can suck it.

The last thing I want to touch on is this show’s use of the source material. It manages to have mostly completely original plots but sprinkle in some things for the Sherlockians in the most beautiful of ways.

When Watson is going through some clothes to lend to a friend, they find a deerstalker. Watson tells the friend to take it because Holmes never wears it.

They go to a convention of people dressed in costume and it cuts to two people who, from the back, appear to be Holmes and Watson dressed in clothing like the original characters’ but then it turns out to be two completely random people and Holmes and Watson are dressed normally.

“Hounded,” the episode based on The Hound of the Baskervilles? Stunning.

Cases randomly name dropped? Iconic.

Watson and Marcus going over a case obviously based on one of the original short stories? Beautiful.

Watson casually mentioning the three Garridebs and their story? Magnificent.

The modernization of the orange pip story? Marvelous.

This show is a beautiful representation of my absolute favorite piece of literature and I couldn’t be more pleased.

10/10, would recommend.

[ickle-ronniekins]

breaking the rules

request from anon: Your writing is truly amazing!! I just read your fake dating with Georgie and I loved it!! I was wondering you would be up to writing a fake dating piece with Freddie?!☺️

word count: 6.9k sorry i keep getting carried away

A/N: ugh. my heart. i cannot deal. thank you all for being so kind, day after day, with each and every piece i write. and thank you, also, for being so patient. i know it’s taking me a while to sift through these requests. it means the world to me! love you all tons

tag list: @mintlibri @seppys-return-to-madness @how-do-life-does @fopdoodledane @fredd-weasley @iprobablyshipit91 @semmelsemi @cottageoflove @laneygthememequeen @snakesonaplane-7 @lupinsx @keoghans @helloallthethingsilove @bobduncanlover | message me if you’d like to be added lovelies!

“Hey, Y/N! Would you mind, for the sake of the entire team, to not be so bloody brilliant during every single match? You’re making us look bad.”

You smile, clutching the quaffle to your chest as you zoom rapidly through the air, leaving dust in your wake as you fly past the Slytherin team members, leaving them baffled and confused before they can fully register just exactly what’s going on. You hoist the quaffle through the hoop and hear a loud roar from the Gryffindor section; you must be up by a hundred points by now. You see Malfoy near the goal posts on the opposite side, looking positively murderous.

You make your way around the interior of the pitch, only to reply to Fred Weasley as you pass by, “I can try, but—don’t you want to win?”

A hearty laugh escapes his lips, and he’s pummeling bludgers left and right with his twin by his side. He wonders now, watching you, if Gryffindor would be as good as they are without you on the team. You’re probably one of the most talented Chasers Gryffindor has seen in years, he reckons. He knew it the first time he saw you mount a broom in a flying lesson your first year at Hogwarts. Since then, inseparable you two had been.

There’s a light, airy feel to the match, which is, to Fred’s surprise, nothing at all what he had expected this morning, especially with Slytherin being the opponent. But you seem to be more in rhythm with the wavelengths of this match than ever before, to the point where Harry is actually taking his time to try and find the snitch—he’s making Malfoy sweat it out a bit.

But when a nasty bludger smacks the end of your broom and you’re knocked to the ground, landing painfully on your arm, Madam Hooch begins shouting out punishments at the Slytherin beaters, McGonagall is rushing to your side with Madam Pomfrey, and Fred, George, and Harry are nearly kicking Malfoy into the ground when his sickeningly irritating mock laughter floats in the air between them.

— -

“Merlin—is a side effect of drinking too much Skele-Gro that you end up a bottomless pit?” you ask nobody in particular as you continue to shovel eggs, toast, bacon and sausage into your mouth. Next to you, George laughs and pats you on the shoulder.

“Glad to see you’re feeling better,” he tells you.

You peer over and smile—your bones in your arm are fully restored, but still in a sling; Madam Pomfrey had insisted. Across the table, Fred is looking rather sullen indeed.

“Brighten up, would you, Weasley?” you kick him playfully under the table and his stoic face breaks into a toothy smile. He’s feeling rather guilty, he is. Wasn’t able to stop the bludger in time. Neither was George. As if you’re reading his thoughts, you tell him, “It’s not your fault, you know.”

“Yeah,” he replies, stirring his spoon in his cup of tea. A bit too loudly, he continues, “Slimy Slytherin beaters—”

“Easy,” you say in a low voice, as the entirety of the Slytherin Quidditch team glances over at your table, and Fred’s gripping his fork tightly in his other hand. “Don’t need any more of us taken out of the next match, do we?”

Another safety measure of Madam Pomfrey’s. No Quidditch for a few weeks, at least. This means, of course, missing the next match: Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff. You’d tried to fight it, but when her mouth had formed into a thin line and she’d crossed her arms indignantly, you knew there was no changing her mind.

Why is it, Fred thinks to himself now, that Slytherins tend to get away with everything? The punishment of the two beaters was absolutely nothing like he’d expected—one detention each with Snape, who had basically grinned at the sight of your broken arm and shoulder. He’s so bloody tired of it, he wants to give them a taste of their own medicine. Perhaps, if he picks George’s brain, he can think of something—

His thoughts are interrupted when you kick him again under the table. “Hello—earth to Freddie?”

“Sorry,” he replies, biting into his toast, “what did you say?”

“I was saying—” you begin, and Fred notices his twin is now down a few seats talking with Ron and Ginny, leaving you two alone, “would you mind helping me pack up my bag after breakfast? It’s proving rather difficult with one arm since I have this sling across my other shoulder—”

Before you can finish, you both hear a group of Hufflepuffs from the table over discussing something animatedly. Fred catches bits and pieces of the conversation—he swears he hears ‘bludgers’ and ‘poor girl’ quite a few times. Before he knows it, they’re standing up and waltzing over to the Gryffindor table—more specifically, toward you.

“Oh bloody hell,” you mumble under your breath and look at Fred with wide eyes. You don’t need to say anything else for him to understand. Leading the pack of distraught looking Hufflepuffs is—Fred’s least favorite person in the entire world, and that’s including Malfoy—your ex boyfriend.

“Hey, Y/N,” he says awkwardly as he approaches the table at once before you and Fred are able to escape. He looks down at your shoulder and says in a tone Fred can’t decipher as sarcastic or genuine, “real sorry about your arm. Terrible thing those beaters did. Are you okay?”

With a slight eye roll from you and a laugh he tries very hard to suppress, Fred finds himself lost in his thoughts again. He’s transported almost immediately to the common room, to a very late Monday night after a very long detention with Professor McGonagall.

When he sprang through the portrait hole that evening, ready to divulge to you just exactly how he’d landed himself in detention the night you were both supposed to continue your weekly Monday traditions of exploding snap over small glasses of Butterbeer, he was a bit taken aback when he saw you crying in the corner, peering out of a window at the starry night sky. Immediately, his insides turned.

“Y/N?’ he asked when he finally reached you, nervous of how you were going to react to his very late arrival.

You sniffled a bit and wiped your tears away with your shirtsleeve. He felt surprised when you said softly, with no twinge of anger, “W-where’ve you been?”

“I’m so sorry,” he said, sitting across from you on the window ledge. He let his bag fall to his feet with a dull thump. “McGonagall caught Georgie and me right after class—I was dragged to immediate detention without being able to come back to the common room to tell you—I could use a good butterbeer right now..” but his voice trailed off when he noticed that you weren’t really listening. Your eyes were letting tears escape with no effort, and he spotted your hands trembling against your knees. You weren’t upset about the game of exploding snap. His heart sank into his chest when he realized this was something deeper. “Hey,” he said, placing a hand over yours, “are you okay?”

“H-he,” you started, and Fred could tell that you were embarrassed. You couldn’t even look him in the eye. “It’s over. He broke up with me.”

“W..what?” Fred asked, his hands suddenly felt extremely cold. He squeezed your knee and waited.

“He said he.. sees me as a friend,” you told him, and Fred shook his head in utter shock, “he doesn’t.. feel anything a-anymore. I think..” you continued, your voice slightly higher than before, “I think there’s s-someone else.”

You threw your head into your hands and began wailing. Fred had never, ever, ever seen you cry before, but he didn’t like it. He wanted to do everything in his power to make it stop, make you smile, make you happy.

“What a complete git,” he told you before pulling you into his arms. You were nearly on his lap. You rested your head on his chest and let out painful sobs for a few minutes while he thought, in a panicked state, of words to say. You’d always been tough. Independent. Happy-go-lucky. So to see you in this emotional, co-dependent, messy state—he felt strange. Off balance. It made his heart hurt.

“Hey,” he said after a few minutes once your tears seemed to slow, “how about we make you some tea, get you into some comfortable pyjamas, and then we can talk through it—how does that sound?” When he noticed you were about to argue after pointing to the butterbeer and cards on the table even though he knew you didn’t really want to play, he continued, “Nah—not really in the mood to get my arse kicked by you tonight.”

You laughed through a hiccup and squeezed his hand tightly before pulling his arms around you again. “First, can you—can you just stay here with me?”

He felt you tense up beside him and he knew that you were trying your hardest to fight back more tears rising to the surface. He pulled you closer to him and wrapped his arms tighter around you, enclosing you in the warmth from his own body.

“Okay then,” he replied and felt you relax beside him, “I can do that.”

“Maybe we can—we can talk it over.” Fred’s brought back to the present when he feels yet another light blow to his shin from you under the table. He blinks and looks into your eyes, which are wide, and he feels himself go weirdly alert.

“I don’t think so,” you say to your ex now, almost laughing a bit; he’s looking rather annoyed and stunned at being turned down. You swallow over a lump in your throat, “Besides, I’m—I’m seeing someone else, so, I think you’d better leave.”

“What?” he says breathlessly, almost looking heartbroken. Is he trying to mend his ways after watching you hit the ground with a loud splat! a few days ago? Fred’s insides turn. “Since when?”

“Since..a few weeks ago.” Fred can sense the panic in your voice as he watches your eyes shift from your ex to your breakfast plate and to him, a cherry red color flooding your cheeks and the tips of your ears. And without a second thought, you say, “Right, Fred?”

And Fred’s agreeing before he can fully digest your words, he’s nodding without breaking your gaze, he’s smirking at you without remembering there are other people around him. Finally, he looks up into the very baffled face of your ex boyfriend. “Yeah, we are—so—I’d bugger off if I were you, mate.”

“You two?” he asks, looking at Fred with what can only be described as pure anguish. “Together?”

“It’s time to go,” whispers another Hufflepuff, pulling the very distraught looking boy in front of you both back to their table before he can say anything else to you. Fred watches as he slumps in his seat and rubs his head, as if confused. Then, he turns back to you and raises an eyebrow.

“Oh, Freddie, I’m sorry!” you shake your head rather quickly and bring a hand to your mouth in shock. “I panicked, I just—he kept trying to ask me to grab lunch with him, I didn’t know what to say to get him to leave me alone, ‘m so mortified. We can just—pretend it never happened, you don’t have to do anything, I can just deal with whatever it is he has planned, it’s fine—”

“Hey.. take a breath,” he laughs and teases you before reaching across the table and squeezing your hand. “It’s fine, I get it. Besides,” he takes a quick bite of an apple and smirks at you, “I’m honored you chose me to be your fake boyfriend.”

“Well, you’re the only one here, silly.”

He pauses to consider this, and then says, “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that and tell you again how honored I am.” You laugh at this, and he grins cheekily at you as he continues, “I mean, imagine if you’d done that to George, he would’ve stumbled over his words—you know how he gets under pressure sometimes—gets flabbergasted, he does. You’re lucky ‘m quick on my feet.”

“Well then,” you reply, sipping your tea as Fred watches your nerves subside, “glad to have you along for the ride, Weasley.”

— -

It’s difficult watching the team’s practice. Fred had told you to maybe stay in, not watch, he’d fill you in later on your replacement. You’d insisted on coming anyway. But he was right.

They’re not completely out of sync—the third year Chaser they snatched up is pretty good for never having really played before. But if Fred’s being completely honest, he misses you on the pitch more than anything else. It’s just not the same without you.

You enter the Great Hall for dinner, and you’re so annoyed at doing everything one-armed that you nearly rip the sling right off of your shoulder, even though Madam Pomfrey had insisted on wearing it for two more days. Okay, maybe you did it a little too fast. “Ow,” you say, rotating your shoulder back and forth to stretch the muscles, as if they’d been asleep for months and months. You furrow your brow in pain.

Fred snorts before sipping his pumpkin juice. “How’d that feel?”

“Not the greatest,” you admit, taking a seat next to him.

Just then, he slings an arm around your shoulder and places a light kiss to your forehead, taking you by surprise. You turn to him with a raised eyebrow. He places his cup gingerly on the table. “Git sighting, on your right.”

You stealthily look on the other end of the Great Hall, your ex trying his best to look distracted, but there’s no chance in hell he didn’t see this exchange between you and Fred. Solemnly, he follows his fellow Hufflepuffs from the hall.

You both hadn’t even noticed George, Ron, and Harry take their places beside you at the table, eyes wide and faces flushed.

“When the bloody hell did this happen?” Ron nods at the two of you, shoving pork into his mouth.

“I’d like to think if my two best friends got together, they would’ve at least mentioned it to me—how long have you two been sneaking around?” George teases you with a wink.

Both you and Fred let hearty laughs escape your lips, as if to say, Sneaking around? You’re out of your mind, but instead, you both say, “We’re just faking.”

“Come again?” Ron and Harry chorus together.

“Faking—you know, Ronniekins, pretend.” Ron’s ears turn a bright scarlet color. “Just for fun. Y/N’s lovely ex bombarded her the other day after her injury, kept bugging her to grab a bite with him, so she very politely took me by surprise and told him, before consulting me, that we’re dating. Of course I obliged—being the lovely gent I am.”

“It did not happen like that—”

“You’re absolute rubbish at lying, you know.”

You throw your hands up in surrender, your face a nice light shade of rosy pink. “I panicked!”

“Precisely,” Fred and George say together. “And how long are you two planning on keeping this little scheme going for?” George asks.

You and Fred turn to each other. It is now revealed, Fred realizes as he watches as you peer into space, that you have no plan. He leans back in his seat, looking rather satisfied at the fact that you haven’t come up with any details at all. “I—I hadn’t thought of that. I just kind of.. went for it. I was acting on the very daring nerve that comes with being a Gryffindor!”

“Right you were,” says Fred through a mouthful of potatoes, “barely skipped a beat, she did. Reckon she couldn’t wait for it to happen—she nearly pounced on me right in front of him.”

The boys roar with raucous laughter. You roll your eyes and turn your attention to George, Ron, and Harry, who are now wiping away tears from their eyes. “You don’t really believe him, do you? This will not last long. Believe you me. It was purely a spur-of-the-moment adrenaline rush decision.”

“Hey, Y/N?”

You turn back to Fred and ask in a sweetly sarcastic tone, “Yes, Freddie?”

“I’m invoking a rule. No falling in love with one another.” He winks and bites into his chicken.

You scoff at him, while the others chuckle again. “Ah yes, darling—because that’s so very likely.”

— -

When Fred finds you sitting underneath a large oak tree in front of the castle, he laughs softly when he sees you in quite a frazzled looking state: your hair is in disarray from pulling at it, the bags under your eyes make it look like you haven’t slept in days, and he can almost feel the pain radiating from your tired muscles.

He sits down next to you in the grass and teases, “You’re quite a sight for sore eyes.”

“Oh, shove off,” you reply, not even looking up from your books. But after a few seconds of silence, the two of you fall into fits of laughter.

Fred nods at the books you’re so very immersed in. “What’s so important?”

“D’you think,” you begin, flipping the pages rapidly, “if I can find a spell that can produce a change in thought process on another human being, and somehow manage to stealthily pull it off and use it on Madam Pomfrey, she’ll change her mind and let me play in the next match?”

Fred cocks his head to the side, peering admirably at you, and smiles sweetly. “It doesn’t look very likely.”

“Ugh, I thought you’d say that.”

“But hey—there’s always obliviate,”

“Honestly, it’s getting to the point where I’m actually considering it.”

“Sure,” he says teasingly again, “I’d pay quite a lot of galleons to see you use any type of magic on a staff member, let alone something as dangerous as a memory charm.”

You cross your arms defiantly. “Don’t think I’ll do it?”

“No,” he smirks, “I know you won’t do it.”

You narrow your eyes at him and give in. Fred can’t help but laugh. “Okay, well—it would be really dangerous! But c’mon—I’ve gotten involved in a fair share of mischief with you and your brother; need I remind you of the time you landed me in detention my second year? A mere twelve year old, in detention…”

“Reckon that’s when you put this whole fake boyfriend thing into action, did you? When you fell for me all those years ago?”

“Ha-ha, you’re wickedly hilarious, Freddie.. seriously, funniest bloke I’ve ever met..” Your voice trails off when you notice something a few feet away, but Fred’s still thinking about how you called him the funniest person you know, even if it was in a sarcastic tone. But deep down, he knows you’re completely serious. He can feel his heart begin to soar a bit. His meandering mind is interrupted yet again by someone walking along the water’s edge—an unwanted visitor. Quickly, you shift yourself closer to Fred and say in a hushed voice, “Hurry—put your arm around me!”

He can’t help but stifle a laugh at your extremely flustered state. “Anything for my girl.”

You fit in so comfortably in his body that he doesn’t even notice how much time passes by. You spend the afternoon immersed in books, while Fred is resting against the tree, falling in and out of sleep with breaks to fix some malfunctions on some very small inventions of his and George’s. Each and every time he looks up, he notices the very curious looking ex boyfriend of yours watching you both, as if he’s trying his very hardest to prove that the two of you are just pretending. And each and every time Fred turns his attention back toward his inventions, he finds himself pulling you tighter and tighter into his arms.

— -

You and Fred are walking rather reluctantly through the corridors to your next class. If only you both had a free period, you’d be able to catch up on some work. But alas, here you both are, walking very, very slowly to Defense Against the Dark Arts.

“How’s the team holding up? I’m dying to get back out there with you.”

“Miss me that much, do you?”

You narrow your eyes and the unmistakable sound of mock laughter from Fred bounces off of the walls. “I miss Quidditch is what I mean. It’s killing me that I can’t join you lot—especially with the match just a week away.”

Fred smiles softly at you, feeling a twinge in his heart, knowing that you won’t be able to play, regardless of your completely healed shoulder. “I know. It’s killing us, too. But come the new year, you’ll—oi, bloody hell, does he just spend his time following us around, or something?”

Fred nods in the direction of the unwanted visitor yet again, and he grabs your hand quickly and continues to walk down the corridor, careful to avoid eye contact. That is, until he corners you both.

It’s not in a violent sort of way—but rather, curious. You’re both bracing yourselves for yet another attempt at getting you to rekindle things, when he takes Fred by surprise. “Why is it, Weasley, that whenever I see you two around, you very quickly grab her hand or sling your arm around her shoulder? What is this—just a ploy?”

“Come on,” you say to him softly, and Fred’s feeling very, very nervous that your facial expression will tell your ex everything he needs to know. “Leave us alone, would you? We’ve got class.”

“Prove it to me, then,” he says now, crossing his arms. “If you two’re really together, then kiss her.”

“What?” you both say aloud, flabbergasted. You look at Fred, who’s doing his very best to bite back a smile, and it’s becoming difficult to not laugh in your ex’s face.

He smirks at the both of you, his cronies surrounding him doing the same thing. Fred squares him up, and it’s easy to tower over him, Fred’s 6’3 frame swallowing him nearly whole. “I don’t think that’s such an odd request—kiss your girlfriend, Weasley, and I’ll leave you be.”

It’s obvious to the both of you, now, that he is basically waiting for you all to admit that yes, you’ve been faking, the entire time it hasn’t been real. You open your mouth to speak and Fred notices the panic in your eyes, the truth bubbling up inside you. So he does the only thing he can think of—he wraps his arms tightly around your waist, pulls you close to him, and presses his lips to yours.

You try very, very hard to hold back your surprise, because you’re extremely aware of the group of Hufflepuffs now watching you both share a kiss that is supposed to look like it happens all the time. You’re sure you’ve lost your voice now. His lips are soft, softer than they look, and Fred’s finding it difficult to remember why you two haven’t been doing this the entire time. He pulls away very, very slowly, hovering close to you with a cheeky grin on his face, before breaking completely and taking your hand in his again, squeezing tightly. Fred notices the scarlet color of your face now, turns back toward the stunned man in front of him, and replies, “Is that all? My girlfriend and I have class, if you don’t mind—”

You swiftly walk your way through the group and you and Fred nearly fly down the hallway, his face as red as his hair, his smile as bright as the sun, and you bring your hands to your lips and you swear you can feel the electricity surging through them, just as they had when Fred kissed you just a few seconds ago.

“You were going to tell him!” Fred’s laughing now, outside the entrance to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, but he can feel his heart thundering in his chest due to the heat of the moment. There’s nothing quite like an adrenaline rush. You reply, “He—he knows we’re lying!”

“Well, now he doesn’t,” Fred replies with a cheeky wink. “C’mon—I made you a deal, didn’t I? Couldn’t let that git get the last word. Now he’s got no bloody idea what’s going on.”

“How can I ever thank you?”

Fred swallows over a lump in his throat, peering deeply into your very bright eyes. He knows what he wants to say, and he’s about too, but something stops him. Something holds him back. Instead, he grins, shakes his head, and slings an arm across your shoulder, making sure to hold onto you just a little bit longer this time.

— -

Fred, George, Ron, and Harry are sitting in the library looking positively ghastly. Ron and Harry are very reluctantly working on a Divination essay that Hermione had finished a week ago, while the twins are racking their brains to finish this petty assignment from Snape.

You wander inside and Fred notices, for the first time in a few days, that your sling is back on your shoulder. Concern floods through his body. “Hey,” he says, immediately pulling you into his arms, “are you okay? Is it bothering you?”

You’re positively beaming—that’s the only way Fred can describe is. Your smile is quite bright, looking happier than you have in months, even with your arm in a sling. “Yeah,” you tell him sweetly, taking a seat next to him, “hurts a little. Probably just slept on it funny, or something.”

“Be careful,” he tells you, snaking an arm around your waist and pulling you closer to him, completely ignoring the assignment in front of him, “let me know if you need to go to the hospital wing, okay?”

You nod and begin to slowly pull spell books from your bag when you notice the others across the table, looking at you both with what can only be described as mischievous grins.

You and Fred look at each other, and then at them. Fred’s hand tightens around your waist. “What?” you ask together.

“You know he isn’t here, right?” Harry asks you both. George and Ron are focusing very hard on their parchments, and are not doing a very good job at stifling their laughter.

It’s almost immediate that Fred unwraps his arm from your waist, and your face is burning with color, and Fred’s insides are beginning to tighten due to embarrassment. But before he can speak and defend his actions, you speak up, “Oh, erm—could’ve sworn I saw him—must’ve been my eyes playing tricks on me, then. Anyway..”

The rest of the afternoon is spent in utter silence, recovering from that tiny slip up and moment of embarrassment. And one by one they leave—first Harry, then Ron, and then George—who, by the looks of it, is nowhere near done with his assignment—but he claims he has somewhere he needs to be, and vanishes through the doors of the library before either you or Fred can do anything.

About an hour later, you ask Fred, “Could Snape be any more vile? Why did he assign this stupid essay again?”

Fred laughs softly, “because some Ravenclaw started insulting his teaching methods in the middle of the lesson—remember?”

“Oh yeah,” you say, the memory coming back to you now. Brightly, you say, “Hey—want to get back at that Ravenclaw and plan some elaborate type of prank to make this whole assignment just a little bit more bearable?”

Fred turns toward you with a surprised expression on his face. He smirks and shakes his head in admiration, “I think I’m becoming a bad influence on you.”

You bat your eyelashes at him and say, “Maybe. Would that be such an awful thing?”

And then he pulls you nearly all the way into his lap, begins tickling you and poking you in the ribs, and you begin to flail in his arms and laugh hysterically, when Madam Pince angrily shushes you from the other end of the library. You flip your hair out of your eyes and regain your composure, and Fred is suddenly very aware that you’re still seated in his lap, your face only inches from his, the bright color of your eyes sparkling in the sun flooding in from the windows. Right. You’re not actually technically together. He swallows thickly and watches as you bite down on your lip. You’re both about to say something, hearts thundering loudly in your chest, when suddenly you break the silence and slide yourself off of him, back into your seat and say, “We’d better head to the feast, Freddie. Don’t want to be late.”

— -

“Anyone fancy a game of exploding snap before bed?”

Ron’s sitting in the middle of the huddle, finishing the last of his dessert from the feast, while everyone around him is slumped in their seats looking positively exhausted.

George says sleepily, “Can’t mate—we’ve got a late night practice tonight.”

“D’you think Angelina will give me a beating if I just sleep through it?” Fred asks nobody in particular, his eyes closed.

“Yes,” you, Harry, George, Ginny and Hermione say together.

“Oh fine, you lot are out,” Ron waves his hand in the direction of the Quidditch players and then glances excitedly at you, Ginny, and Hermione. “Ladies? Anyone? Feeling kind of lucky this evening.”

Ginny snorts at this. “You? Lucky? Luck would be me not absolutely obliterating you in a game—not you winning. That’d be a miracle.” Her older brothers chuckle quite animatedly at this comment; it’s certainly woken them up a bit.

You grin at Ginny and then say to her very angry and embarrassed looking brother, “What she means to say, Ron, is that we’re all kind of exhausted due to lack of sleep, because someone—” you shoot a glance toward another Gryffindor girl on the other end of the Great Hall, “—put an amplifying charm on some Muggle contraption of hers last night, music kept us up till nearly dawn.”

Ron turns back toward his brothers now, looking confused. “No way you could’ve heard that from the girls dormitory, or Harry and I would’ve been up all night, too! So why are you two so bloody exhausted?”

“Usual mischief,” Fred and George chorus together, winking at the youngest male Weasley.

Ginny picks up her bag and says to the group, “I’m heading to bed. You two coming?” she glances at you and Hermione.

You glance back and forth between Ginny and Fred and bite your lip. You’re absolutely knackered, but you wonder whether you should go to practice, just to be there, just to watch, just to show you’re still devoted. Fred picks up on this and shakes his head. “You’re tired—go to bed. Promise you’re not missing much. Reckon we’ll all be rubbish due to exhaustion, anyway.”

“Okay,” you finally reply, albeit begrudgingly. Fred places a quick kiss to your cheek, the group stifles laughter, and you, Hermione, and an extremely baffled Ginny make your way upstairs to the common room, leaving the boys to their jokes in the very crowded Great Hall.

When you enter through the portrait hole, Hermione wishes you both a good evening before heading up the stairs. This leaves you and Ginny alone in a completely desolate common room. You remove your shoes and stand across from the fire, letting the warmth of the flames radiate through your body, when Ginny clears her throat.

“Care to tell me what’s going on between you and my older brother?” she says cheekily, grinning at you. She so very much resembles all of her siblings.

You laugh softly, running a hand through your hair and stretching your arms behind your head. “I thought Ron would’ve told you.. It’s nothing, Ginny. Promise. We’re just pretending. My ex has been strangely remorseful about the breakup lately, trying to get me to talk to him and what not—Fred’s just helping me out a bit.”

“By pretending to date you?”

“Yeah..” you say a bit guiltily now. “Yeah, it sort of happened in a moment of panic. Don’t worry, though. None of it’s real. Just till it gets the other one out of my way—then we’ll go back to normal.” You turn back to face the fire and it suddenly feels much, much hotter than before.

“But this is the normal you actually want, isn’t it?”

This takes you by surprise. You turn back slowly, now facing Ginny, and she’s wearing a genuine grin. “I—I dunno what you’re talking about.”

“I’ve watched Fred and George for years,” Ginny tells you, “admiring their recklessness and rebellion—but in turn, this also means I see who they get on with.”

“Meaning?”

She smiles softly, looking a little sulky actually, which is so very unlike Ginny. And she confides in you, and she’s acting very vulnerable which makes your heart soar, “I’d give anything for Harry to look at me the way you look at Fred.”

You swallow over a lump in your throat, and Ginny can easily sense your nervousness. She reaches out and places a gentle hand on your shoulder. In a very hoarse, soft voice, as if your vocal chords have been strained, you plead, “Please, please don’t tell him.”

She doesn’t respond to this exactly, but you know she’ll keep her lips sealed. She asks, “How long?”

“I—I dunno,” you tell her truthfully. You bite your lip to keep your heart jumping out of your throat, “over time, I suppose.” You continue to tell her of how everything unfolded, how Fred had jokingly told you to not develop feelings for him, how he’d kissed you that one day in the corridor.

There’s a few moments of silence between you both, but there’s nothing uncomfortable about it. In fact, it’s the most comfortable you’ve ever been with one another—secretly longing for the boys who don’t seem to look at you both the way you so deeply yearn. Finally, Ginny breaks the tension and says, “Your secret is safe with me. Just be careful, okay? I don’t want to see you get hurt again.”

Is this her way of telling you that Fred doesn’t feel the same way as you? That these feelings you have for him are a hundred percent one sided and are not at all reciprocated? It’s as if she’s reading your thoughts, because she tells you, “I’ve no idea how he feels—he doesn’t tell me anything at all, real git that he is,” you both laugh at this exchange, and Ginny echoes herself, “Just be careful.”

“I will,” you reply, now realizing that she’s has given you quite a lot to think about, “Thanks, Gin.”

— -

Fred’s feeling positively blue, if you will. He’s standing smack in the middle of the corridor in his Quidditch robes after a truly rubbish weekend practice, staring at the spot you were just standing. It’s like you’re still there, he can still smell your perfume, but he reckons you’ve probably already made it back to the common room by now.

Just then, he feels a hand on his shoulder. He jumps in surprise, and turns around only to be face to face with George and Ginny, who laugh at his skittishness.

“You alright, mate? Coming to the Great Hall?”

“Yeah.” Fred’s voice sounds vastly different in his own ears; it’s hoarse and broken, and he doesn’t understand why. He coughs a bit, and then echoes himself, “Yeah,” except he doesn’t believe it, and neither do his siblings.

George stops bouncing his broomstick between his hands at once. He looks once at Ginny and then back at Fred as the corridor begins to fill with students, “What’s going on?”

“Sh-she ended it,” he replies, and the words feel foreign in his mouth.

“Who, Y/N? The.. fake thing?” George asks, lowering his voice. “Maybe the git is finally leaving her be.”

“No, that’s not it. She wouldn’t tell me. She was.. weirdly quiet. She told me that she was worried things are going to get messy and she’s afraid rules are being broken on her end.. has she said anything to either of you? What is she even talking about?”

George responds quickly with a, “No, nothing,” whereas Ginny hesitates a bit, and then responds, “No, Freddie. She hasn’t.” But Fred can sense that his little sister isn’t giving him all of the info. Had she talked to you? Does she know what’s going on? Then George nudges his brother and asks a bit cheekily, “Does this make you upset?”

“No, no, of course not!” Fred says a bit aggressively, but both of his siblings just cock their heads to the side, as if to say, Really, Freddie, we can see right through you. “I—I mean—I just.. thought we were having a bit of fun.”

“Yeah,” George begins, while Ginny remains quiet by his side, “okay, you were having fun, but.. what I’m asking you, Fred, is—do you maybe want to be with her for real? And that’s why you’re upset?”

When Fred doesn’t answer, Ginny finds her voice. “We know, Fred.”

“Know what?”

George and Ginny say together, “That you fancy her.”

Fred runs a hand through his hair. He’s feeling aggravated now—he doesn’t like when his mind and thoughts get picked apart by people closest to him, especially when he’s trying on his own to piece together exactly how he feels. But he comes to realize, as his heart begins to beat faster when he thinks of you, that his siblings are right. He’s felt this way for a very, very long time.

Without showing just how much he really feels for you, Fred tells them, “Yeah, erm, okay, I—maybe I have some.. feelings,” he says through gritted teeth and George can’t help but stifle a laugh at his twin’s nervousness. Fred punches him in the arm. “But she kept saying that she’s breaking rules—but what rules? I haven’t the foggiest what she’s on about! I don’t even know if she feels the same way!”

“Fred,” Ginny says quietly, “you jokingly made one rule with her when you two began this whole ridiculous stunt.” When Fred just looks at his sister quizzically, wondering what the bloody hell she’s on about, she opts to continue, “you told her you’re not allowed to fall for one another.”

Realization hits Fred like a ton of bricks, George throws his hands up in confusion, and Ginny pushes on Fred’s chest and grins cheekily at her older brother, leaving poor George baffled beyond belief at this secret language his other two siblings seem to have. Ginny nods in the direction of the common room, “Just go get her already, would you?”

And Fred’s flying through the corridors and up the stairs, he’s pushing past students and professors alike, he’s running hands through his messy, windswept hair and he’s climbing through the portrait hole, only to find you sitting on the ledge near the window looking out at the stars, just as you had all those long months ago when he found you crying.

“Hey, Freddie,” you say when you turn to face him. “Everything okay?”

He doesn’t answer—he pushes past the desks and chairs blocking him from you and does the one and only thing he wants to do, the only thing he’s ever wanted to do for as long as he can remember now—he scoops you up into his arms, presses his forehead to yours, and kisses you. For real, this time.

Your surprise is overridden by the slight, exasperated moan that escapes your lips before you wrap your hands around the back of his neck. His fingers are dancing across your hip bones and then make their way up your back and into your hair. He kisses you once, twice, three more times before fully breaking, and hovers close to you again before pulling away completely to see the sparkle in your eyes, the bright smile plastered across your face.

As you push down any nervousness rising to the surface with a quick swallow, you say, “So.. where’ve you been?”

Fred laughs haughtily now, remembering that time all those few months ago when you’d said the exact same thing in a completely different context. He’s finding it beyond difficult to not kiss you into oblivion right now, especially as you bite on your bottom lip to try and suppress a very large grin.

“Sorry, love, I got tied up with my thoughts—but I can stay here with you now.”

He pulls you into a tight embrace before his lips find yours again. You can both hear voices outside the portrait whole. It’s obvious to you now that you have mere seconds before your alone time will be so very rudely interrupted by fellow Gryffindors.

“I broke the rules,” you tell him with slight tears in your eyes, playing with the baby fine hairs at the nape of his neck.

“Me too,” he admits breathlessly, swiping his thumb across your cheek. “I broke them a long time ago.” His heart begins to thunder inside of his chest at the feeling of your lips forming a smile against his, and he’s almost positive you can hear it—but he doesn’t care. He wants you to know you get his heart racing—more than pranking, more than firewhisky, more than Quidditch—more than anything or anyone in the entire world. He continues after another small kiss, “I reckon some rules are meant to be broken, though, aren’t they?”

reblogs & feedback are always appreciated, darlings. thank you for reading and requesting, much love x

[refusethyname28]

Hey you, I think I’m...

Pairing: Sirius Black x Remus Lupin (Wolfstar)

Summary: Sirius doesn’t know how to tell Remus how he feels. Perhaps a thousand and one letters will do the trick?

A/N: I wrote this fic quite some time ago for a weekend challenge on Harry Potter Amino. It was a challenge for pride month and this is kind of what came of it. This is set during the Marauders’ Era. The ending is set around 1980.

Warnings: None

Word count: 6157 words

The moon and the stars cried. The moon lighted the way while the stars fell down while not knowing what to say. It was hard to keep it all in when all they both desired was to be together, yet neither knew what to say or how to say it. That is why they cried.

Dear Remus Lupin,

Before you go out and interrogate everyone, talk to everyone you know and even the people you don’t know, to find out who wrote you this, please believe me when I say that I truly mean what I wrote in this letter. I think you’re wonderful, and I mean that in the best way. I genuinely think you are an amazing person to just admire. You are kind, caring, loving, gentle- even when you say you’re not. The way you study always gets me, you know? It’s your head pining over all that homework, all those books, and then at some point, you will accidentally knock over your inkpot and you’ll curse at yourself. And then you’ll look up to see if anyone heard you. Honestly, it is so extremely adorable. Or when you arrive at the Great Hall with your friends, it is amazing to see that smile on your face as you breathe in the smell of freshly baked goods. To put it lightly, I think I fancy you…

“I think I fancy you, honestly this sounds stupid,” Sirius muttered to himself as he was reading through the letter he was currently writing. The young Black groaned in frustration and shook his head. His three best friend had gone outside to enjoy the sun, but not Sirius. No, he had to write this, he’d promised James that he was going to confess his love to Remus this year. The problem was that end of the year was quite near, it was now the beginning of June and if Sirius did not confess his love this year he’d owe James a lot of money. The male had locked himself in their dormitory and told himself that he was not allowed to leave until he finished this. Sirius’s eyes skimmed over the letter and not that much later he put it down and took out a new blank piece of parchment. “Shouldn’t ‘love’ be a celebration?” the young male murmured to himself. This did not feel like a celebration, this was a lot harder than he anticipated, and he was scared of rejection. Sirius never really wanted to admit that he was scared of being rejected and ignored by the ones he loved most. He could not lose his best friend over a stupid love letter. This confession was more like signing his own will or placing the final flower on his coffin before saying goodbye, because not only would he confess his love, he would also have to come out as gay. Yes, it was a very well-known fact that Sirius made out with girls in the past, and he did enjoy it, kind of, but did he ever feel like he wanted to spend the rest of his life with one of those girls? You guessed right, not ever. Not once did he think that he might be settling down with one of those girls. He did have that feeling every time he looked at Remus. Remus grounded him, he made sure Sirius was true to himself and that is what Sirius needed. Some to ground him, to steady him when he was falling apart. He needed someone to truly love him for who he was, not for the image or reputation he had. It was like Remus had the power to truly open Sirius’s eyes, to show him the wonders and beauty of this world. 

Sirius stared down at the blank piece of parchment on his bed, and he shook his head. He let himself get lost in new thoughts. He wondered what his family would do when they found out about Sirius’s sexuality. They would presumably find out about it not even a second after Sirius officially came out. He wasn’t particularly looking forward to that. The Blacks knew everything that Sirius was up to in the shortest period of time, they had people everywhere- and with people, Sirius meant his younger brother, Regulus. Sirius sighed and closed his eyes. He thought of all the pros and cons of him telling Remus about his feelings, he was rather quick to realise that there were more cons than pros. “I promised James, and I never break a promise,” he told himself, and he went back to writing, starting a new letter. 

Remus John Lupin,

Look I know, I’m not that great with things like love and big romantic confessions. You tell me every time I get a new girlfriend, and I’m sorry. I really tried to change all of that, but it didn’t happen. Something else did happen though, you see, I fell for you. Well, this did not exactly happen recently, let’s say, I think I’ve been in love with you for quite some time now, years even. You might hate me for it, you might think I am not capable of something like this, and I am sorry you feel that way about me. But I’m not going to keep this inside of me any longer, I need to say it. I am madly in love with you, Remus, and I cannot help it. So, is it really necessary for you to ask around who sent you this letter? Not really, I guess I can better say it. Well, it is me Moony. You’re mate, Sirius. Yes, I fancy you. I fancy you and your billion cups of tea at 3 AM, I fancy you and your knitted jumpers, you who folds your socks every night before you go to bed, you who will get grumpy whenever James and I are being too loud while you’re reading a book. I fancy messy you, sad you, angry you, sick you, tired you, I fancy you, Remus. Everything you are, I fancy it all. James told me that it would be easy to tell you how I felt, but it is not. It is the worst thing ever. You make me nervous. You, of all people! I know you’ll probably laugh at me and think I’m being silly, I mean, who is able to make Sirius Black nervous? Well Moony, congrats you’re the one. You’re the winner. 

It’s hard for me to tell you because I don’t know how you feel, I don’t know what I will do when I see your reaction. I just can’t lose you, Rem, I can’t. But that’s not the only thing. I’m scared of the reactions I will get from others, I am scared of what my family will say. I am scared to go back there this summer and face the consequences if I do decide to send this letter. Honestly, I’m scared of it all. An outcast, the white sheep of the family, the disappointment, not a true Black heir, a disgrace and now the word ‘homosexual’ can be added to that stupid list of things and names they can call me. I’m sorry I shouldn’t put this all on you, it is not your fault. You’re too good, even if you can’t see it yourself. I’m also afraid of loving you because I’m not even sure if I truly understand the extremely complex concept that is love. People always say: ‘when you know, you know’ right? With you, I like to think I know, but is that love? Or is it just a stupid little crush, a stupid little crush that I’ve been having since we decided to become Animagi to help you. I’m afraid I don’t understand the concept of love well enough to really be yours and to fully commit myself to you. I’m not even sure if you want to have me. Look, I understand it if you don’t, that’s okay, I think? I might be heartbroken for a little while, but I am not losing my friend over a crush, so you bet your magic arse that I will be there to annoy you the rest of our lives. No matter what will happen when you read this, no matter what you will do, we’re a team. 

Yours sincerely,

Sirius Black.

Sirius stared at the paper as he let the ink dry. This was the very first letter he actually finished. He’d written a couple before but all ended like the one before this one, without a proper ending. They were all written by someone ‘anonymous’, it was slightly odd that this one, where Sirius used his own name, was the one letter he actually finished. But he was never going to send this. This letter was too raw and too personal, he couldn’t send this to Remus. The poor lad would have a heart attack reading this. This letter was never going to see the light of day ever again. Sirius waited until the ink was fully dried down, he then closed the letter and put it away with the other letter. All the letters, concerning this very matter, were being stacked away in a little box Sirius kept hidden from the rest. Not many knew that there was a loose floorboard next to Peter’s bed. You could take it out and hide things underneath it, that is where Sirius hid the box. The male then endeavoured to write a few more letters, but all ended disastrously. In other words, the letters did not even have a proper ending so, instead of putting them with the other letters, Sirius burned them. After a little while, he decided to give up and join his three friends outside by the lake. 

James cheered loudly when he saw Sirius arrive, Remus looked up and gave Sirius this absolutely dazzling smile. It was like the softest smile in the history of smiles and it was a fact that only Remus Lupin could smile like that. Sirius wanted Remus to never stop smiling like this, he was gorgeous like this. As soon as Sirius’s eyes rested on Remus his mind was calm. The sun shone upon Remus beautifully and the hot beams highlighted Remus’s face in the most beautiful ways. “Hey Pads, finally done?” Remus’s voice brought Sirius back to reality, and he nodded, smiling at his three friends. “Pain in the arse, Transfiguration, but please don’t tell Minnie I said that. Otherwise, she might never smile at me again,” Sirius spoke in a very dramatic voice. He let himself fall down next to James and Remus. Peter handed Sirius a bag of peanuts and the young Black took some. “What have you three been up to?” Sirius casually asked. He genuinely tried so hard not to get too distracted by Remus, which was awfully hard as Remus was just sitting there, not having a clue of what he was doing to Sirius by being extremely handsome. Sirius thought it was not fair for someone to look that gorgeous at the age of sixteen. Compared to Remus Sirius himself felt like a mess. A beautiful mess according to a lot of girls, but a mess nonetheless. “Nothing much, Pads. Don’t worry, you did not miss out on anything,” Remus assured his friend and Sirius nodded. The four boys sat there in silence, only the sounds of the birds and the lake could be heard, and Peter’s chewing as well. Remus laid back in the grass, and he closed his eyes, letting the sun all upon his face as he lay in between the flowers. Sirius watched his friend lay back, and he was, again, in awe. Remus looked absolutely stunning already, but this truly was a wonderful sight. Sirius felt someone nudging him, but he ignored it, he was too captivated by Remus’s beauty. The young werewolf always spoke of his face as ugly, because of all the scars but Sirius was someone who actually found beauty in scars. Sirius had scars himself, both mental scars and physical ones. Sirius learned to live with them by telling himself that every scar had a story, they were a sign of survival, how harsh that reality might be to others, it was the truth. Every scar had a story, that’s what made them so special. Remus hated it when people pointed out his scars or even looked at them, but when Sirius did that it was okay. Sirius felt somewhat privileged in that way. The young Black heir just wanted to kiss each scar on Remus’s body and tell gorgeous carrier how wonderful he looked, that the scars did not make him ugly, not at all. They made Remus even more interesting, captivating and more bloody gorgeous than he already was. The nudging kept going on and soon Sirius realised that it was James Potter who was poking his sides with his wand. “What?” Sirius spoke in a slightly hushed voice as he eyed the Potter boy. James just stared his best friend in the eyes and arched his eyebrows up. “Nothing, literally nothing,” Sirius whispered, and he sighed deeply. “Mate, you know our deal,” James said back and Sirius nodded, he was still glancing over from his one side, where Remus was, to his other where James was practically breathing in his neck. “Potter, too close alright?” Sirius chuckled and he pushed his friend away a bit. Sirius plucked the grass as he kept thinking of ways to tell the scarred boy that he, Sirius Orion Black III, was deeply in love with him. The letters were certainly no option, he couldn’t even properly finish them, well except for one. Remus had often told Sirius that he wasn’t sure if Sirius was capable of love and that kind of commitment, and yes, it hurt Sirius every time his friend said it, but he knew that Remus did not mean it in a bad way. Sirius wasn’t even sure about it himself, committing to someone like that was a huge step, and considering everything Sirius has been through, he wasn’t completely sure if he was able to love someone like that. So, Remus did have a point. Remus just wondered if Sirius was ever going to settle down, as he basically had a new girlfriend even two or three weeks. Not that it was Sirius’s fault, the girls were all too clingy, they didn’t like it that Sirius spent more time reading Remus a book, because Remus was too tired to read himself, than he actually spent with them. But it also showed how well they actually knew Sirius, because he would, without hesitation, choose friends over lovers unless that lover was also your best friend, which made things rather complicated. Sirius kept his eyes on Remus, and he observed the male in silence while he was being observed by James Potter. It is kind of uncomfortable to have someone watch you this closely, especially because it was James, and he simply couldn’t do things without being extremely obvious. Or at least, he couldn’t do that with Sirius, the two knew each other too well. “Lads, I’m going to have to borrow Pads for a little while, we’ll be back soon,” James then suddenly spoke and Sirius looked at his best friend with a perplexed look on his face. “‘Course, go ahead, we’ll meet you two here again,” Remus said with his calm voice and his eyes still closed. Peter just nodded and finished the last of his peanuts. The two mischievous Gryffindors got up and walked off, leaving their two friends behind. 

Sirius looked at Remus as he was being pulled along by James. It was obvious that James wanted to talk to Sirius in private. The two often had these little moments where they would just take the other out on a little walk, and they would talk about everything and anything. James and Sirius had that kind of bond and it was an amazing thing. James truly was the brother Sirius always wished he had The two were now far away from Remus, Peter and any other students really. The young Potter stopped moving and Sirius did as well. The young Black heir looked up to his taller friend. James looked at Sirius, and he raised his eyebrows at the Black. “What? You have this look on your face,” Sirius said as he was being observed by his best friend. “You need to take some action, Sirius, it is very necessary,” James said and Sirius groaned. “Did you write a letter?” James then asked and Sirius shook his head, but he then remembered he actually did write a letter with an actual ending. “Wait, I did actually, but it’s horrible and it is messy and. I cannot possibly send him that letter,” Sirius explained, and he sat down. James dropped next to him and patted his best friend’s back. James opened his mouth, wanting to say something but Sirius interrupted him. “And no, I am certainly not going to tell you where I hid it.” James closed his mouth again and stared at his feet. He really wanted to help Sirius, and he knew that Sirius wanted all the help he could get, even if the male did not want to admit that. Sirius was one of wanting but not speaking it out, James figured that had something to do with his past. It was odd how Sirius was so confident and overly dramatic while walking through the halls but when it came to subjects like love, hate and fear he turned into this silent and overly timid person. It seemed as if Sirius was afraid to allow himself to love someone for real, that is how he acted anyway. James had been telling his friend to tell Remus all year long, but it didn’t happen. Sirius was still hopelessly daydreaming about Remus Lupin. “Sirius, are you afraid to be loved?” James then suddenly asked the young Black in all seriousness. Sirius looked up at James with big eyes, and he sighed deeply. Obviously James knew everything about Sirius, James knew Sirius even better than Sirius knew himself. It was kind of annoying at times, but he also loved James for it. “Perhaps,” the long-haired whispered. It almost was as if Sirius was afraid his fear of being loved would become reality if he said it out loud, that’s how soft the whisper was. Sirius did not want to feel like he needed love, he didn’t want to be desperate for it, but he was. Even though he wasn’t truly sure if he knew the true meaning of the word love, he still wanted it. “It’s okay to be afraid mate, you’ve been through a lot. I really don’t know how you feel right now but I can imagine confessing this to Remus must be hard. But please remember you should be proud of this love, even if it isn’t mutual. Remus making you feel like this will prove anyone wrong that said you weren’t capable of real love. You are, and being scared to admit the way you feel about him proves that.” James rubbed Sirius’s back to comfort his friend. “Remus said that,” Sirius whispered. James nodded and kept rubbing the Black’s back in circling motions. “I know Pads, but he doesn’t mean it like that. He knows very well how vibrant you are, and he knows that you are truly capable of love.” James would be there for Sirius, he would always be there. It wasn’t common in the Black household for anyone to talk openly about their feelings, the children were being taught to keep it to themselves and not to bother anyone else with it. They needed to be strong, to keep the image up, and they could not, under any circumstances, show weakness in front of others. That’s something that haunted Sirius, he couldn’t express himself properly, it was a problem for him really. People wondered why Sirius acted the way he did, they wondered why he had so many girlfriends and who he went from one to another in just a span of barely a month. Sirius wanted to be loved, he wanted to feel loved but he did not know how to ask for it. That was his problem. He never knew true love, never knew what it was like to have a loving family who listened and cared for you, how was anyone supposed to love him if his own family despised him for who he was. What kind of effect would Sirius’s coming out have on his family? Sirius also had to keep in mind that he would have to spend his summer at 12 Grimmauld Place. “Hey mate, I’m here for you alright? Obviously, I’m not going to hold you to that agreement we made. That would be cruel. If you’re not ready to tell him you’re not ready and that’s okay. You need to take your own time with this, just know that I fully support you. I am proud of you no matter what.” Sirius smiled softly at James as the messy-haired spoke these kind words to his friend. The two talked about some other things, such as Sirius’s home life, James’s crush on Lily, Sirius’s crush on Remus and some new ideas for pranks were being discussed as well. After a while, the two Gryffindors decided to go back to their friends. 

Dear Remus Lupin,

This is my first letter to you. For your information I won’t be stating my name in this letter, that would be way too awkward. I’m not sure if I were able to face you again if you knew my name. So, no, you will not find out who I am. I just wanted to let you know that I admire you. Admire, that’s putting it lightly, I actually think you are amazing. You are wonderful at everything you do, you’re so kind and gentle even though you say you’re not. You won’t be able to convince me of that. I like every little thing you do, for example, you sitting by the fire late at night while reading a book, or you running around after your friends to make sure they don’t get into too much trouble or even you studying in the library with Lily Evans. I like it all, love it all. To be quite honest with you, I think I’m…

His heart skipped a beat as he read the first letter over and over again. The handwriting was unlike something he’d ever seen before. It was swirly and just absolutely gorgeous. Remus couldn’t believe it, he kept staring at the paper, reading the last words over and over. “I think I’m,” the young werewolf whispered to himself, and he took a deep breath. He then remembered there were more letters, Remus then opened the next envelope that was addressed to him. 

Remus,

I’m just going to keep it simple, I think, or I hope. You see I’m not the best at this grand romantic gesture and all. As much as I would like to do something like that for you, I’m not sure if others would appreciate it that much. Romantic, I said? Yes I did. I’m just going to tell you, I like you. I like you a lot and…

Remus turned the letter to see if there was something written on the back of the paper. Nothing, these two first letters were not finished. He picked up a new one, there were about eighteen letters in the box he found, so he kept on reading. It was a good thing that the other three lads were out, because Remus wasn’t too sure what he would do if they found him in here, with all the letters.

Hi Remus,

I fancy you. I’m—

That was a short one, but it was rather straight to the point. There were a few letters left and even though Remus already got the message, he simply could not stop reading all the endearing letters.

Remus Lupin,

Hey you, I’m trying to tell you something here and I would really like it if you’d take your time to read this before going on a quest to find out who wrote you this. It’s rather personal, the thing I wrote in here. You might wonder who this ‘I’ is, well I’m deeply sorry but I will be keeping that too myself. I just figured, or actually my friend did, that it would be best to tell you. I have deeply fallen in l—

Remus read a couple more, they were all unfinished. Some letters were bold, some of them were romantic and some were serious or formal. But they all told Remus the same thing. It was a beautiful thing actually, to see the writer struggle with putting this into words. To see how the writer wanted to tell Remus but wasn’t too sure what to say and how to say it. That was until Remus opened and read the last letter. 

Remus John Lupin,

Look I know, I’m not that great with things like love and big romantic confessions. You tell me every time I get a new girlfriend, and I’m sorry. I really tried to change all of that, but it didn’t happen. Something else did happen though, you see, I fell for you. Well, this did not exactly happen recently, let’s say, I think I’ve been in love with you for quite some time now, years even. You might hate me for it, you might think I am not capable of something like this, and I am sorry you feel that way about me. But I’m not going to keep this inside of me any longer, I need to say it. I am madly in love with you, Remus, and I cannot help it. So, is it really necessary for you to ask around who sent you this letter? Not really, I guess I can better say it. Well, it is me Moony. You’re mate, Sirius. Yes, I fancy you. I fancy you and your billion cups of tea at 3 AM, I fancy you and your knitted jumpers, you who folds your socks every night before you go to bed, you who will get grumpy whenever James and I are being too loud while you’re reading a book. I fancy messy you, sad you, angry you, sick you, tired you, I fancy you, Remus. Everything you are, I fancy it all. James told me that it would be easy to tell you how I felt, but it is not. It is the worst thing ever. You make me nervous. You, of all people! I know you’ll probably laugh at me and think I’m being silly, I mean, who is able to make Sirius Black nervous? Well Moony, congrats you’re the one. You’re the winner. 

It’s hard for me to tell you because I don’t know how you feel, I don’t know what I will do when I see your reaction. I just can’t lose you, Rem, I can’t. But that’s not the only thing. I’m scared of the reactions I will get from others, I am scared of what my family will say. I am scared to go back there this summer and face the consequences if I do decide to send this letter. Honestly, I’m scared of it all. An outcast, the white sheep of the family, the disappointment, not a true Black heir, a disgrace and now the word ‘homosexual’ can be added to that stupid list of things and names they can call me. I’m sorry I shouldn’t put this all on you, it is not your fault. You’re too good, even if you can’t see it yourself. I’m also afraid of loving you because I’m not even sure if I truly understand the extremely complex concept that is love. People always say: ‘when you know, you know’ right? With you, I like to think I know, but is that love? Or is it just a stupid little crush, a stupid little crush that I’ve been having since we decided to become Animagi to help you. I’m afraid I don’t understand the concept of love well enough to really be yours and to fully commit myself to you. I’m not even sure if you want to have me. Look, I understand it if you don’t, that’s okay, I think? I might be heartbroken for a little while, but I am not losing my friend over a crush, so you bet your magic arse that I will be there to annoy you the rest of our lives. No matter what will happen when you read this, no matter what you will do, we’re a team. 

Yours sincerely,

Sirius Black.

Obviously, Remus knew these letters came from Sirius, he literally found the box after trying to look for his chocolate. The lads were known to steal Remus’s chocolates, especially Peter and this box happened to be hidden underneath the loose floorboard close to Peter’s bed. Remus thought he was the only one who knew about that spot, not that he used it for anything, but he figured that whenever he might need a spot he would have one. The letters were stuffed away in a little box with the Black family crest. Remus actually remembered Sirius getting that horrid thing. The young male got it for Christmas a few years back, two perhaps. It had been a snowy and cold night and the four boys decided to stay at Hogwarts, which took Sirius a lot of trying to convince his parents by owl to let him stay as well. The boy had been thirteen or fourteen at the time. This box arrived and when Sirius opened it there was nothing inside it except for a little card with one word written on it, ‘disgrace’. Seeing Sirius’s reaction to that little note had been horrible to watch. The poor boy immediately got tears in his eyes, and he tried to dry them and not to let it show, but he couldn’t hold it in, so he went upstairs, crying as he did so. Obviously James followed him to their dorm. The common room hadn’t been too crowded at that moment, so not many had seen what happened. After a little while, Remus took it upon himself to check on the two boys, so he made his way upstairs to their dorm. When he opened the door Remus saw a crying Sirius with red and puffy eyes in James’s arms who was holding him tight and telling him how amazing he was and how horrible his family treated him. It was at that very moment that Remus realised that he wanted to be that person for Sirius. He wanted to be the one Sirius would look for to comfort him. Remus wanted to be the one holding Sirius and telling him how beautiful he was inside and out. That was the moment when Remus realised he had fallen in love with Sirius Black. 

Remus read the last letter again, he then grabbed one of the other letters and compared the handwriting. The letter with Sirius’s name actually looked like it had been written by Sirius himself, but all the other letters were in a different handwriting. There were a couple of similarities, for example, the way Sirius always connected the letter ‘o’ with the letter that followed. Remus wondered if Sirius truly came up with a whole new handwriting for just these letters. Obviously, Remus loved the last letter the most. It was personal and really well, Sirius. He read it again and pressed the letter against his chest. 

It wasn’t that much later when Remus heard three familiar voices coming from the common room. James, Sirius and Peter were rather loud. Remus held Sirius’s letter in hand, and he made his way downstairs. He really had no idea what he was going to say, but he just had to see Sirius right now. There were so many thoughts and questions rushing through his head right now. For example, Remus wondered why Sirius kept it all a secret, and for how long this had been going on. He arrived in the common room and immediately looked at Sirius who gave him a soft smile until the Black realised what Remus was holding in his hand. Sirius went pale and his eyes big, he turned his gaze away and avoided Remus’s eyes at all costs. Remus made his way over to Sirius and towered over the smaller male. James and Peter had stepped aside to see how this was going to end. A few other Gryffindor students, who were sitting in the common room as well, were watching everything happen. “Remus-” Sirius mumbled almost inaudibly, he still wasn’t meeting Remus’s eyes. The Black was too scared to see Remus’s reaction, what if there was hate in his eyes or disgust? He couldn’t have that, he could not lose Remus, but he was afraid that he in fact just had. There was a silence, no one said a word, not even the students who were just sitting there, no one. Sirius was about to say something else when he felt Remus’s soft hands cup his cheeks and press their lips together. It caught Sirius off guard, and he would have fallen if it hadn’t been for Remus catching him. Remus’s lips were soft against Sirius’s plump ones. It was truly a magical kiss. Sirius was a bit light-headed at the moment, and he wasn’t truly sure if that was because of the kiss they shared or because of the lack of oxygen as the kiss was pretty intense. 

Several gasps could be heard around the common room when Remus initiated the kiss by pressing their lips together. Everyone had fallen silent, and they were watching the two males kiss, which was kind of awkward. It was pretty obvious that there was chemistry between the two, there always had been chemistry. Then someone started to wolf whistle at the two and people started clapping and cheering. There were some cheeky comments as well, but none of it mattered to the two kissing boys. They were in their own little world right now. All they knew at that moment was each other. They parted and stared each other in the eyes. “You’re in love with me?” Remus whispered against Sirius’s lip. “I am, very much,” Sirius replied and they kissed again. This kiss was a lot lighter than the last one, it was short but still romantic. “I am in love with you, Moony. I am so in love with you.” 

1980

Dear Sirius Black,

Remember how and when we got together? You better do because I will never forgive you if you don’t. I thought it fitting to write you a letter for our three years anniversary. It was exactly this date that you wrote your last letter, a week before we got together. I know it might be a bit too soon, but I have something to ask you. Please don’t freak out, just consider it, think it through. That day, exactly a week from now (which is when I will give you this letter), when I read your letters I finally opened my eyes. I finally saw us together, and so did you. Our horizons met, love. Ever since that moment, you brought me nothing except love and light, all of that light will lead me into the darkest of nights, I am now able to fight those nights because I know that you will be by my side. I am happy and proud to be yours, Sirius, I really am. I know, this relationship wasn’t easy for us, you had trouble with your family because of this and you were afraid. To be honest with you, I was scared that one day you would see me for whom I think I am, and I’m still scared of that, but I also know that you love me. I know the scars we have, they will bleed, they will heal and open up again because that’s how life works. But I believe, Sirius, both of our hearts believe that we can get through all of those tough times because we can. I am sure of it. All of the stars will guide us home Sirius, you are my star, you’re my home. 

I have something to ask you, Sirius, and please don’t freak out.

Yours for eternity,

Remus Lupin.

When Sirius looked up from the paper Remus was sat on one knee, holding a little box in one hand. “Sirius Orion Black III, will you marry me?” 

It was this night, exactly three years ago that the moon and the stars finally aligned. No longer did they cry, they were finally together. After so many exchanged words and letters, tonight was the night that they truly became each other’s significant others. The moon and the stars, proud to be together after all they’ve been through. 

[amphtaminedreams]

Spring/Summer & Haute Couture Week 2021: Whoops, I’ve Missed a Loooot (Part 2)

Hey to anyone reading,

I’m so sorry for the gap between the last fashion week review post and this one! Argh. I had no idea I posted it as long ago as the beginning of March but I think we can all agree that lockdown has fucked with our perceptions of time completely. I wish I could say the delay in posting was as simple as me being busy but I’ve also started to reflect on whether or not I want to carry on this format of posts for the time being; on the scale of problems, this one is wayyy down there in the very lower quartile of the first world region, but my motivation to carry on this kind of content in the form of long-winded text posts is...meh...not so much there anymore. At first I was thinking the issue was that working on these was my last priority on my daily to-do lists but as I’ve got back into writing fiction, it’s kind of occurred to me that the fact I was putting these posts on my to-do lists in the first place along with things like doing the ironing and contacting student finance speaks volumes. When I’m back from work or winding down, opening up Tumblr and coming back to this draft isn’t something that I think of as a fun stress reliever in the way drafting stories is. It doesn’t feel like I’m using my imagination or my creativity or expressing myself in any way and it’s not much of an escape from day to day life in the way that writing dialogue or exploring characters is. Maybe it’s because I’ve done quite a few of these posts now but I just tend to feel like I’m repeating myself, you know kinda like when you’re writing an essay and trying to fill up a word count; of course there are collections that I do have a lot of opinions on but by and large, sometimes it boils down to THESE CLOTHES ARE JUST FUCKING PRETTY, OKAY?! There’s only so many things you can say about a tulle skirt or an exaggerated collar before you want to strangle yourself with said tulle. I used to think iF VoGUe RuNwaY wRitErs CaN dO iT WhAT's MY exCusE until I realised that 1). Vogue Runway writers actually get paid and 2). for the most part all they do is explain the designer's intentions behind the collections verbatim without giving a critical opinion anyway.

I think a lot of the pressure I feel to justify what are in reality quite simple observations and opinions goes back to some of the feelings I explained in my first ever fashion week review where people who know more about fashion and have a formal education in the subject tend to be kind of gatekeep-y and elitist. It can never be that you appreciate different things about a collection but rather than one of you has taste and the other doesn’t and if it wasn’t obvious, the taste level assigned to you by the powers that be tend to positively correlate with the amount of money you have available to spend on a degree that has a reputation for failing to provide a steady income, which for most makes it an unrealistic avenue to pursue. I know, I know, the pressure is totally self-inflicted and wholly imagined seeing as I have under 500 followers on here and those who do interact with these posts most likely do so for the pictures but I still feel it, and given that I’m going to have enough external pressure to write essays when I return to uni in September, why on earth am I wasting time putting it on myself? When just posting photosets of my favourite looks is not only actually enjoyable for me but is also what other people WANT to see too? Nobody wants to read a self-indulgent paragraph like this when they’re here for the clothes and to be honest, for the most part I don’t want to write them anyway unless it’s something I have strong feelings about or if a collection can only be properly appreciated with analysis. I think I’ve made pretty clear which designers I’m a fan of, do you really need to hear me raving about Gucci or Zimmerman or Miu Miu or Balenciaga again? Is there gonna be anything revolutionary in yet another rant about Maria Grazia? Course not. I mean, if you are reading, you might have to witness those things one last time because I do intend to finish off this season’s review in this format for consistency purposes and because I’ve already got all the notes now but on the whole, I doubt anyone will miss my rambles.

So, with all that in mind, I think after I finish my S/S21 posts I am gonna start just uploading these posts without the written part. I mean, for one, the simplicity of doing this means I’m much less likely to procrastinate making them which in turn means I’ll be able to get them out right after the shows as a kind of summary as opposed to months later when they’re no longer as relevant. This will also give me more time to work on the writing I actually enjoy. Right now I’m going through and editing my 17 year old self’s “grown-up” take on the Pretty Little Liars blackmail murder mystery style plot line which I wrote back when I was completely and utterly obsessed with the show and bitterly disappointed by the last couple of seasons. The writing is pretty mediocre and often hugely cringey to read back now but I am still a fan of the basic plot and I’m genuinely motivated to see if I can make it something actually worth reading, and to get onto that ASAP; this feels especially important right now given that the HBO version of the series’ apparent upcoming release has sent that ever-present writer’s fear of seeing-your-same-storyline-done-better-by-somebody-else-thus-forever-relegating-your-version-to-being-the-poor-imitation-so-you-gotta-get-there-first into overdrive (or maybe that’s just me and my neuroses). Again, it’s a totally unfounded fear based on the fact that the HBO show will probs get millions of viewers whilst I will be doing little more than shouting into the void but anybody who’s used Turnitin to submit an essay that ultimately counts for little more than like 1% of your grade or degree will know that no matter how irrelevant your work is, the concept of failing a plagiarism check, be it via a computer algorithm or one random stranger on the internet’s assessment, is enough to conjure visions of the 4 horsemen of the apocalypse galloping towards you screaming “START THE WHOLE THING AGAIN” before releasing a hoarde of 2015 Chanel vs. Walmart style comparison memes.

Now, speaking of Chanel, I should probably get back into the reviewing. 

So for the last time for a little while, here’s Christian Siriano:

Siriano’s designs are a great example of work I feel guilty enjoying. I know that when it comes to quality, the high fashion community have a lot of (negative) things to say and I really can’t speak to that because quite honestly, I know very little about textile manufacturing. Solely from my own point of view though, I do like his work a lot. I wouldn’t claim for a minute that he’s a pioneer in terms of his creations but I would 100% love to wear them and I DO hugely admire his commitment to putting women of all sizes on the runway and designing pieces that don’t simply cater to straight up and down types which is more than can be said for most brands. I get that his collections are pretty formulaic, taking what has worked for the likes of Chanel and Alessandra Rich, De La Renta and Carolina Herrera, Michael Kors too (who is kind of guilty of the same thing himself), but that’s not to say his work is bad. Let’s be real, we’ve been on this planet thousands of years, we’re all taking inspiration from someone, and maybe figures like Kors and Siriano could wait a *little* longer before taking said inspiration but their aim at the end of the day is to sell clothes, not break barriers, a task which although often left to the big name brands, they too often fail at. I’m not going to lie, I’m feeling this whimsical mid-century tea party vibe, it’s elegant and it’s cutesy and My Fair Lady-esque, and you bet your arse I would be absolutely thrilled to wear one of these looks on a summer red carpet. I just can’t say no to anything tulle-maybe it’s that I was on Toddlers & Tiaras in a past life or maybe it’s that I watched too many Barbie Princess films growing up, but I like pretty much everything going on here, especially Siriano is giving us matching fedoras too. Plus, can we take a moment to praise Siriano for his COVID relief efforts? Near the beginning of the pandemic, he turned his studio into a mask manufacturing factory in order to send them out as donations, and I think that is very cool.

Then there’s Christopher Kane who once again came through with the most insanely gorgeous prints:

I mean, paint splattering is hardly a new technique but I haven’t seen it done as a print so tastefully before-it eats the Moschino biro scribble print (which apparently was copied too speaking of the tendencies of designers to “borrow” inspiration) for breakfast. It’s shit because there weren’t many looks in this collection and they weren’t really shot in a way that does them any justice but I thought I’d include the few I saved.

Comme Des Garcons is a fave of the high fashion community and one I look forward to seeing at fashion week but can never quite get behind. I appreciate the what-the-fuckery of it all with this show totally being able to pass as a run-through of some kind of nuclear waste themed scare house at one of Thorpe Park’s fright nights. I assume given that and the plastic Mickey Mouse print it’s supposed to be some kind of reference to the part late-stage capitalism has played in the hellish landscape we find ourselves in today? Or something all intellectual? In which case I made my interpretation with farrrr too much confidence. But Anyway! Who knows! I’ll leave the analysis to the fashion students, and give it one word: trippy.

Onto Dion Lee, a brand I truly do get excited to talk about because it’s rare that I don’t LOVE his work.

Without fail, Lee manages to be confidently ahead of the curve without going out of his way to announce it and his genius to everyone with flamboyant shows and exaggerated designs and extortionate prices. He is very much an underdog in the fashion world in terms of big names but you’ll be hard pressed to find anyone who doesn’t love his collections. His S/S21 collection is one of my favourites of the bunch. I love seeing something I’ve never seen before and the palm leaf breast plate is so odd but so cool and so perfectly Dion Lee at the same time; we’ve seen jungle/tropical inspired collections sooo many times *cough cough D&G cough cough* and THIS is how you make them fresh and unique. I mean, never in a million years did I think I’d get behind the resurgence of the gladiator sandal trend but Lee has me changing my mind. This is one of the very rare times you will ever see me using this meme to praise a man but:

I mean, he has Fernanda Ly modelling for him, that the man has taste goes without saying.

Now for a bit of a full circle moment, given that I did actually praise Dior’s haute couture collection in my first ever post; Maria Grazia did GOOD. Well, with haute couture at least.

She’s always pretty hamfisted with her references, there’s no denying, with that Grecian Goddess style RTW collection typifying that statement completely, but luckily she struck gold this time round; as someone who studied the Tudors for A-level history, seeing a modern take on the exaggeratedly feminine renaissance silhouettes with the baroque prints and the deep jewell tones got me super excited especially when you throw in the dreamy tarot theming and the nods to the mystical and arcane. Seeing as the Heavenly Bodies Met Gala (I know, I know, I need to move on) was some time ago now and Cersei Lannister’s *SPOILER* been crushed by a rock (could also be seen as a metaphor for the irrelevancy David Benioff and D.B Wise condemned GoT to when they aired that shitty ending tehe) and so probably won’t be getting a collection based on her costumes any time soon, this is the only fashion take on this kind of period dress I’m going to get…and you know what? I’m okay with that. Thanks Maria, I guess?

Her RTW collection wasn’t absolutely awful either, and slightly better than the past few collections at least. Put a monkey in a room with a typewriter (or show it enough similar well-received collections) and it will eventually write something that makes sense, don’t they say? I like the nomadic feel of a lot of the looks and there’s beautiful layering going on but the aura of exotic opulence unsurprisingly didn’t stick around for long and I found that there was a decline in quality in the midsection of the show that landed a lot of the outfits in either awkward mother of the bride at a beach wedding or The Only Way is Essex Ocean Beach PLT sponsored poolside party territory. The looks picked back up a bit towards the end stretch of the show but I wasn’t a fan of the Gucci style oversized glasses which were so out of place with the rest of the theming that if anything they seemed like a cheap grab at relevancy. So yeah, a middling, subpar Etro-esque collection which is better than usual for Dior I suppose.

Next, Elie Saab, whose S/S21 collection was kinda disappointing, tbh. Oh how the turns have tabled given that positive Dior review and my usual love of Saab’s collections.

I know his dresses lose some of their appeal when we can’t see them in motion but even ON the runway I can’t see myself being dazzled by any of these pieces the way I usually am. They’re lacking the level of detail and craftsmanship I associate with the brand seemingly in favour of block colours and suits and the issue is that the whole Disney Princess fantasy has always been the appeal for me because the silhouettes aren’t interesting enough on their own. They’re not ugly pieces, they’re nice, but does nice really have a place in high fashion when the pieces are so basic in both their design and presentation that the shots could pass as ripped from a catalogue? The strongest parts of the collection were when it did go down the more delicate route with the muted blue suits and the white feather trimmed dresses, the small, ornamental gold details reminding me of a very toned down nod to Schiaparelli’s hardware, but with regards to the bright coloured pieces, I can’t lie-they did look like something you could find in the M&S Per Una holiday section. Then you’ve got the weakest parts, which were just flat out ugly: sheer giraffe print, sweat band style elasticated waits, and long chiffon shirts that I hate to admit read as frumpy. There are times where I’ve not been particularly excited by an Elie Saab collection in the past, but I do think this is the first time I’ve actively disliked parts of it.

Conversely, Erdem’s S/S21 collection was super strong, and solidified the brand’s place in my mind as a dependable source of kooky maximalism, this time round giving us  Anya Taylor Joy’s Emma wardrobe on speed. You could tell me Erdem Moralıoğlu had just raided the Bridgerton set’s fitting rooms and put it on a runway and I would 100% believe you and I mean that in a positive way because to give my unpopular opinion, the clothes were the only good thing about that show. The endearingly florid details of exaggerated bows and clashing florals were still there but this time in a way that felt more subtle and self-assured, as if the calming influence of the wooded set’d had a direct hand in the designs, giving the rugged, ethereal feel to the collection I associate with brands like Brock and Simone Rocha, all whilst keeping the parts of Erdem I’m so fond of.

Is it really much of a shock that I included pretty much every look from the Etro S/S21 show?  Like, you know that Christian idea of God, like, (the voice in my head is very much taking on the dumb valley girl voice that anybody who reads this is most probably getting too) knowing our souls? I think Veronica Etro knows mine. So no, no surprise. Though there were a few unconventional touches thrown into these looks (the campier prints and nautical theming we see with the 80s beach towel print, for example, reminded me a bit of Versace) the mystical bohemian it girl that Etro designs for would still be highly satisfied. Sure, it might be a wardrobe fit for a holiday less adventurous than backpacking but if she wanted a tropical poolside holiday, this collection is the one, the paisley print chiffon mini and maxi dresses especially. I’m just gonna pretend I don’t see the monstrosity that is leggings worn as trousers-it’s a fashion rule I refuse to abandon-because they are the only stain on an otherwise expectedly gorgeous collection.

Next, an unusually reserved RTW collection from Fendi:

More in line with the wardrobe of a European fashion editor than the glamorous trophy wife (who let’s say uses that facade as a guise to ruthlessly run her husband’s whole business empire from behind the scenes because in this house we do complex female characters only), these pieces are lot “smarter” and more professional looking than Fendi’s typical offerings; where I feel Fendi usually designs for the society girl who wouldn’t mind a front page scandal, these are the kind of outfits a young member of Monaco’s royal family would wear for a positively received but business-as-usual press tour. I know, Fendi is an Italian brand, but this is more Southern France to me. We’re talking some 2nd page shots of a Kate Middleton type on a yacht on the Riviera smiling and waving as her PR team’s ideal scenario. Still, whilst fewer exaggerated silhouettes, animal prints and overtly luxurious fabrics (real leathers, silks and furs for example) mean that the drama’s a little toned down, it’s all still very expensive looking and combines the classically feminine glamour of the past and the minimalism of modernity in the artful manner that we’re used to. Maybe it’s me being a basic bitch but I always love seeing Ashley Graham on the runway too, even if brands to tend to use her as their single token plus size model.

Kim Jones’ debut haute couture collection for Fendi, however, wasn’t a very well received one. I don’t hate it personally but I can see where the criticisms are coming from. Whilst it’s closer to the version of Fendi I’ve come to expect and there were some stunning pieces which completely encapsulated that distinctive aura of luxe and glamour, there were quite a few lazy pieces which could’ve been from any designer. I also felt the collection was a bit upstaged by what seemed to be a who’s who of the modelling world; having Bella, Cara, Kate and Naomi ALL walk in one show was a bit distracting and took the focus off the clothes completely.

Giambattista Valli’s RTW collection was gorgeous as ever; the man has undeniably mastered the art of delivering classic, objective elegance, the kind of designs I feel would make you light on your feet and smell like strawberries and cream the minute you put one on. Whilst as a brand his RTW shows are rarely trendsetting, they reliably produce a plethora of unfailingly graceful and demure pieces, as appealing to your mum and your grandma as they are to young women and little girls, and this collection is another victory lap for Valli when it comes to upholding his signature tea party and artisan cupcake making and rose garden strolling and bottomless rosé brunch appropriate aesthetic. There were a lot of outfits that were bordering on overly juvenile, with structures a little too basic to justify the amount of sequins thrown on, but when it’s good, it’s so sweet that regardless of how to formula it is, I can’t help but fall in love.

Valli’s haute couture collection was stunning too and for sure a more exciting offering than the RTW. There was of course a lot of the signature tulle but it was head-turning, over the top in a way that leant far more towards the experimental than I expected. The photos themselves are 100% believable as a some kind of Vogue behind the scenes editorial shoot on the set of live action Disney princess movie (in between takes of the climactic ball scene if you wanna get specific with the vision); if you are looking for a prettier alternative to the primary colours and disruptive shapes of a Molly Goddard collection, this is the one. It’s giving the themes of excess and abundance I associate with that of the Hunger Games Capitol but through the softer lens of a Sofia Coppola movie, and being the typical cinema loving white girl I am, I’m obviously on board with that vibe.

I did SUCH a 180 on Givency’s S/S21 collection from when I first saw it to writing a review. My initial reaction was one of disappointment, I guess simply because Givenchy has given us so many bold pieces and presentations over the last few years whereas this is more low-key. After properly considering it though as I would any other brand, I came to the conclusion that I do actually really like it. It’s still got the strange, androgynous silhouettes popping up throughout and the futuristic space-age details but with a more down-to-earth, streetwear feel, albeit a very slick, glossy spin on the trends of the rabble (that’s us guys) of course before we go believing it’s achievable. On the one hand, the devil horn accents are a touch Claire’s accessories halloween range but at the same time, done with confidence they’re kind of cool and bring something new and fun to the table in line with the dark theatre of Givenchy’s last few shows.

Now for Gucci, which for the first time I have to say, if I'm attempting objectivity, is not a standout. 

Like, can I just start by saying though the format it’s presented in is cute, it’s not ideal as a way of actually showing the collection. I get that the vintage shop bin vibe is a huge part of Gucci’s brand but polaroids make it SO hard to actually see the clothes, and that’s what we’re here for right? I don’t want to give the impression that I don’t like what I see here-the clothes are gorgeous, an idyllic ode to the off-duty wardrobes of Studio 54-ers, bohemian style icons like Charlotte Rampling and young Olivia Newton-John, psychedelic rock guitarists and the inhabitants of San Fransisco’s Haight during the late 60s and early 70s, Alessandro Michele’s favourite period of reference. I can’t pretend otherwise, or act like I wouldn’t want to wear the shit out of this collection. Buut, for Gucci? It’s a little underwhelming. These are the kind of filler looks we get in a typical Gucci show to go alongside the more statement pieces, which this collection is lacking. It’s just that these are designs which usually gets people talking and these pieces don’t do that. It sucks because for most other brands this would be a stand out collection, an immersive, luscious vignette of what people tend to think of as a cultural golden era, but when you’ve had a show that involved models carrying replicas of their own decapitated heads down the runway in the last 5 years, of course something more toned down like this is gonna generate a lot of “is that it?”s.

I owe Hermes an apology. Looking back, I have disliked all their previous collections for the same reason that I now really like this one; maybe it’s in part down to the frustration of still having to whack out the winter coat on occasion in May (fuck British weather and climate change), but suddenly I really appreciate the value of some good quality, versatile outerwear. Hermes is giving us that in spades here and for that, I bow down to them. The pieces on offer are clearly well-made and genuinely practical, and through the minimalist approach manage to retain both an air of timeless sophistication whilst also being youthful and on trend. The leather tactical vest co-ord I can easily see edged up and taking centre stage on one of those insane Seoul street style slow-mo TikToks that were big a couple of months ago and there are several pieces that could tie together a grunge influenced k-style look just as well as they could exist for years on end as the wardrobe staple of a high-powered businesswoman. Designer Nadège Vanhee-Cybulski’s strengths really come through with the simpler looks and it’s the patterned pieces that drag down an otherwise flawless collection; I guess because the aesthetic is very minimalist, the patterns can’t be anything overly decorative but unfortunately this has a bit of a dowdy effect when you pair it with such modest silhouettes. Disregarding those elements of the collection though, it was super good.

It goes without saying that Iris Van Herpen’s haute couture collection was breathtaking; if the fashion community can agree on anything, it’s that this woman’s work is consistently awe-inspiring. She captures the wonder of the universe, the biological structures and kaleidoscopic colours we don’t even register, through fashion in a way that others can only imitate, to mesmerising, truly transcendent effect; I can only assume Van Herpen has mother nature whispering into her ear because how the hell else do you explain her ability to take the kind of microscopic organisms they show you images of in an outdated GCSE science powerpoint and make a dress that resembles one so stunning? Care to explain, Iris? Because if there is some kind of line of communication between the two of you can you please tell the bitch I’m over this weather and that I have cute summer outfits I’m waiting to wear so can she pack this torrential rain shit in? K, thanks xoxo

See it seems shady as fuck to go from IVH to Isabel Marant like this because we are talking 2 designers with totallyyyy different approaches to fashion; Iris Van Herpen is haute couture for starters whereas Marant is commercial, and that’s her thing, but unfair comparisons aside this collection is still a bit of a let down. This is considering I do usually really like Isabel Marant collections based on whether or not I’d wear the pieces, which seems a more appropriate barometer to use to come to a quality verdict. Whilst there were a few of the elegant bohemian pieces my mind goes to when it comes to her brand, the steps outside of that comfort zone didn’t pay off; graffiti print (can be cool if done with some subtlety which apart from a few exceptions was not the case here), cheap looking reflective fabric, and MC Hammer style dungarees, it seems to be an attempt to merge 80s trends with modern urban culture, and an attempt that at times verged on the disastrous. It’s good for a brand to experiment, of course, and appeal to a wider client base than usual, but when it’s bad the unfortunate take away is that the design team don’t have the chops to pull off straying from familiar territory; designers wouldn’t be showing at fashion week if this was truly the case because disregarding the influence of nepotism, fashion is an area you need real talent, perseverance and business smarts to excel in, and so it doesn’t do a team justice when they do fail.

J.W Anderson, on the other hand, really put his best foot forward this season and presented this work in a really cool way too which only added to the positives; whilst the way the shots were edited was funky af, it didn’t detract from the actual outfits, and if we are to see the same limitations when it comes to the F/W collections being released, this is something a lot of designers and editing teams should take note of. The idiosyncratic exaggerated shapes that we see as a recurring feature of Anderon’s collections were still on show but this time round with added femininity, billowing skirts and trailing jewellery that channel the stage looks of Stevie Nicks in a way that’s modern and functional and maybe even fit for the office if you were to work in a more creative industry with a chill boss. Could also work for a coven of witches who practice meditation by bonfires in the moonlight and burn the letters of men who wronged them in some Arizonian desert, so like I said, functional! Who doesn’t like versatility? The only thing I’m not too keen on is the shoes but they’re not so bad that it affects my opinion of the collection and they look comfy I guess.

Lastly, we’ve got to talk about Jacquemus, one of the most influential names in fashion at the moment. And yes, this time round, I’m doing it: I’m buying into the hype.

This collection is gorgeousss! I can see already that a lot of the recurring elements of the show are going to be big summer trends for this year (the cut outs and strappy details on the blouses are everywhere already) even though it isn’t hot enough to have collectively decided the time to start dressing for heat is upon us yet, and that’s always a good indicator of how successful the designer was in their vision and attempts to assess the needs and wants of fashion enthusiasts; whether I’m as big a fan of his work as everyone else seems to be, there’s no denying Simon Porte Jacquemus has always excelled at this practice if the buzz around him is anything to go by. It makes sense given the last year of us all being stuck in and suppressed that a lot of us are already romanticising the summer ahead, anticipating picnics and beach days and general Theresa May running through wheat fields type shenanigans galore, in spite of how dubious an assumption it is to make that British weather will allow for this; Porte Jacquemus has very much catered to this wishful thinking and the popularity of the whole escapist “cottage core” aesthetic, sexing it up a little bit with pieces that hug the body in ways only Mugler knows how whilst being lightweight and relaxed enough to look good with windswept, sandy hair and a little dose of sunburn. I’m talking enough to give you some cutesy freckles and rosy cheeks not PSA on the importance of suncream territory, guys, what is it with those of us on the gen Z/millennial cusp not taking sun damage seriously!? Why do I have to beg so many of my friends to wear it!? Does nobody else remember those photos they’d show you in PSHE in English primary schools of burnt people’s skin under UV lights? Or is that just me being weird and only having such a vivid memory of the images because teachers told us we had to wait until year 6 to see them due they to their “graphic” nature only for my gore-loving self to be extremely underwhelmed when we finally did get that lesson? They showed us a woman giving birth in year 4 for fuck’s sake. THAT was traumatising.

Back to the actual point anyway, with just a couple of negatives, the first of which being that the pieces are very similar to those feminine looks we saw dotted about the Jacquemus menswear collection from last year that were all over fashion Twitter. In Simon Porte Jacquemus’ defence though, it makes sense that those tones and silhouettes would be revisited in a full womenswear collection for that very reason; considering they went down so well and that lockdown gave us a bit of a half-baked summer in 2020, expanding on those elements enough for a whole new collection makes good business sense. We did get some cool additions too, mainly in the form of accessories, with the hardware details on the belts similar to those included in the Givenchy collection and the abstract hair slides being standouts for me. It was all exquisite-the shoes, the jewellery, the styling, everything 10/10. My other nitpick, and I say nitpick not because it’s not important but because it’s an issue that’s hardly restricted to Jacquemus (this casting team are far from the worst offenders, Saint Laurent I’m looking at you), is that I WISH we’d see more diversity with the models. Despite what my body dysmorphia yells at me, I am small, and yet seeing all those fucking minuscule waists made me die a little inside; it’s crazy to me that in 2020 the lack of variety in body types on the runway is still such a problem.

I must have said this a million times but I don’t want to end on a negative note so let me reiterate: this collection was STUN. NING. Plus there were some others I’ve talked about in this post that I’m sure will make it into my top 20 in the final part, Jacquemus, Dion Lee and Etro for sure; we even got some gorgeous pieces from Maria Grazia which I thought was a sentence I’d never type out. Have I said enough to not leave a bad taste in the mouth of anyone who read to the end of this post? I hope so, lol! TBH, it’s impressive given everything that’s going on that the majority of designers did roll out collections in September as usual so serious respect to them and their design teams for that.

In the next post, I’ll fingers crossed be able to include everything from Kim Shui (exciting!) through to at least Off-White (actually pretty good this time?!) and make this whole thing a 4 parter before getting straight on top of the photo posts I’m thinking about doing for the time being for the F/W21 shows. So as usual, if you did read to the end thank you so much and I respect the perseverance you must have to get through all my rambling, lmao. Hope everyone is well and coping okay and again, my inbox is always open for any post suggestions, constructive criticism, or just a chat for anyone who needs a listening ear.

Big love and thank you again!

Lauren x

[halothenthehorns]

TLTNL- GRAWP

"What I don't understand," Remus said in exasperation, "is how Voldemort was even in Nagini's mind? What on earth kind of magic allows that!"

It had taken them ages for the Marauders to finally stop talking about the twins epic leave of Hogwarts, but finally as James made to grab for the book again, Remus chose now to break in with something he'd been thinking on all morning. He glanced anxiously at Harry, and though he paled and flinched again at the reminder, he waved Remus on with a curious look in place.

"We've no more idea than how he's even alive," Sirius sighed, also glancing at Harry nervously, though in fear for what was happening to his pup, he was sure Harry could handle this conversation so long as he had them around.

"I was wondering if it was some unprecedented Parseltongue ability." Remus offered. "Nagini was telling Voldemort what happened in such detail, Voldemort was visualizing the whole thing, and Harry just happened to be present while that was happening. Just because Snape said it happened one way doesn't mean there aren't other options."

"I mean, I guess it could have happened that way," Lily frowned as she thought that through. "He'd be learning about this information and feeling the emotions in the moment, so it still counts-"

"but doesn't explain Harry's insisting fear he felt he had fangs for a moment," James disagreed.

"Harry still could have just been projecting what Voldemort was visualizing during Nagini's attack," Sirius disagreed.

"None of that explains Dumbledore's sudden no contact with Harry," Lily shot down. "This must be something, more. I can't think how else to put it, but something new must have happened over the summer, some ability Voldemort seems to have. It clearly does involve Harry in some way, his mind and connection at least, that has Dumbledore avoiding Harry."

"That doesn't track with everything else though," James said in exasperation. "Why allow Harry to even know about the Order if he really thought Harry knowing anything was dangerous?"

  "He hasn't let me know much of anything," Harry shot back. He hated having to think about all this again, but it somehow felt better as well. He was no longer in the heat of the memory, being forced to listen to the idea he was turning into Voldemort. Now he instead got to hear them push around theories and ideas, and that would always feel more bearable, especially when he could feel they were close.

James didn't blame Moony for the change of subject, that had probably been on his mind since the part before Snape's memory had turned their world in a new direction, and it was a miracle he hadn't butted in with this by now. Nonetheless he beckoned to Harry, "why don't we do something nice for your mum, we'll do lunch."

Harry didn't hesitate in following him out, Lily watching them with a light frown. She didn't think Harry felt any ill will for James anymore, but clearly James had more to say. So she forced herself to remain in her seat rather than follow.

When James had said, 'do lunch,' he actually just rapped a pot on the stove to start heating leftovers, but it was the thought that counted, right? Instead he watched as Harry uneasily set the table. When both tasks were done, lunch was ready, and still neither had said a word, James finally forced himself to just spit out what he'd been chewing on this whole time.

"I am sorry."

Harry looked around in surprise, that was usually his line.

James watched Harry steadily for a reaction, hoping his continuing to bring this up wouldn't change whatever comfort Harry had taken in from Sirius, but he couldn't let this one drop without saying his piece either. "Not for that time," he clarified, "I'll never let anyone talk to Lily like that, but I am sorry I was that way, and it pushed Snape into saying that. I'm sorry if what I did to him really did push him into being a Death Eater, when I'd spent the past five years of my life showing Sirius that would never happen to him despite his family. I'm sorry for the way Snape treats you, that's entirely my fault."

Harry rested his hand on the back of a chair like he needed the support. The realizations still hit sometimes, that he was speaking to James instead of wishing it like he'd spent all his life doing, and now more than ever after such a harrowing blow to his memory was returned. "I forgave you," he told him with confidence. "It's like Lupin said, you were only fifteen. If you guys had just seen shots of my memory, me shouting at my friends for nothing, Hermione punching Malfoy, Ron's anger at me before the First Task; you'd all be thinking the worst as well. I wish I'd gotten to know more about you, but Mum's right. You changed," Harry stopped there. He wanted to say Snape hadn't, that he was still a bitter fifteen year old treating Harry like dirt because of what James had once done, but the words wouldn't fully come to him either. Snape was still a vindictive arse, but this memory had really charged something in him, leaving him very confused about his full memories to the man.

James didn't seem to notice that part though, as he roughly pulled Harry into a hug. The absolute fear Harry could have actually hated him hadn't really been felt until it was gone.

Harry returned the affection with a natural ease he never would have believed.

He also broke the hug first, saying, "I'm glad this one should be almost over, I've had a bad feeling about it from the start and I really just want to be done with this year."

James agreed at once, though Harry felt like he hadn't made himself plain enough about that bad feeling considering he was still smiling.

At least lunch was a calm affair, Lily saying they should be able to finish this book by dinner if they didn't have any more long dramatic interruptions which she tried to blame entirely on Sirius.

Sirius informed her she did this too much, but took the blame with grace by spending the rest of lunch refusing to talk about anything else by discussing with the boys anything and everything he could about Quidditch.

James and Lily managed to slip away for a few minutes by themselves to care for the baby, and James happily showed Lily a broom design made from redwood. Even if that tree wasn't native to their land, he'd import it just for his Lily flower.

It didn't actually take that much effort though to get them all back in seats, but they'd switched it up just a bit so now Harry was in between James and Sirius again simply to prove he had no ill will towards either of them. Remus took the seat next to Lily and muttered for her alone while James began looking for his place, "any bets on how long before the next catastrophe takes place in here?"

"I'd rather just pretend there's not going to be one," Lily huffed.

"Joys of being a pessimist, either you expect the worst, or you're pleasantly surprised to be wrong," Remus shrugged without remorse.

"That sounded more like the optimistic view on pessimism," Lily rolled her eyes while James began with a genuine smile again.

The story of Fred and George's was retold so often over the next few days that Harry could tell it would soon become the stuff of Hogwarts legend:

"I'm so proud!" Sirius squealed. "We've forever been upstaged by Weasley's and I'm not even upset!"

"I can hardly believe what they did, the mark they left," James couldn't stop smiling for something so momentous as the twins putting themselves into Hogwarts history like that.

For just a moment as Harry watched them react so proudly to this, he got just a touch jealous. They'd made it clear they were proud of him too, but he'd certainly never felt like he'd done anything Marauder worthy like the twins just had. Then he wondered if this was how Ron felt all the time, towards his own brothers, to his own best friend?

it stretched into the two becoming their own phrase, students could now be heard saying if they suffered anymore classes they'd pull a Weasley.

"I can't believe we were so easily replaced with our infamy," Sirius sighed.

"I think hiding our symbol in the Shrieking Shack is still good enough," Remus shrugged, that was where they spent more time than even their dormitory.

"Yeah," James grudgingly agreed, "guess I'm just jealous. If it wasn't for Lily, I'd feel like I wasted my last year at school not doing something as spectacular before I left."

Lily blushed faintly James had actually admitted aloud he'd cooled himself down just for her.

Fred and George had made sure nobody was likely to forget them too soon.

"Oh that's impossible," Sirius said firmly.

For one thing, they hadn't a clue how to remove the swamp filled corridor.

Then James promptly burst out with laughter as he kept envisioning the thing, the others joining in with delight. They hadn't thought the twins could get better and they just kept being proven wrong.

Umbridge and Filch had been seen trying all manner of things to be rid of it, but with nothing working, Filch was given the task of ferrying people across when need be, who was not at all pleased with this.

Lily gave a righteous laugh, still wanting to punt him from the school after what he'd so wanted to do to the twins, to any student. This was far more what he deserved.

Harry was certain that competent teachers could have removed the swamp in an instant,

"Well I do agree," Lily nodded, her mind boggling a bit at this stretch of magic, "I'd like to ask them how. What kind of magic even was that, an ever lasting potion, a transfiguration spell for the corridor?"

"I want to ask the twins!" Sirius whined. "Curse them not having done this yet."

Remus gave him a look for that comment even as he did agree.

but just as in the case of the fireworks, they seemed to prefer to watch Umbridge struggle.

"The appropriate response," Remus agreed.

Umbridge's door had to be replaced for the two broom shaped holes in it, and rumor now had it Harry's Firebolt was being kept in the dungeon with a security troll to prevent him doing the same.

"I actually believe that," Sirius groaned miserably.

"I wish you'd summoned it to you when they had," James sighed. "Even if you didn't fly off and join them, you'd find a way to keep it out of her webbed fingers."

"I was a little stunned at the moment," Harry protested, and no one argued the point, as they would have been as well.

Her troubles were still only just beginning.

Inspired by the twins, half the population of the school was now vying for the newly vacant position of Troublemakers-in-Chief.

"At some point the title could rest in peace," Lily said without a hope it would happen.

"My fingers are crossed for Ginny now," Sirius grinned, clearly the lot of them ignoring her, "she's got potential."

"What about that one lad always friends with the twins," Remus offered. "He wasn't mentioned going with them, but I'm sure he'd still miss them enough to keep up their legacy one more year."

"Guess it's too much to ask you tried?" James asked of Harry, who was already shaking his head in answer even with a smirk in place for remembering the chaos so constantly erupting in corridors for all this.

Such occurrences of this involved a niffler somehow getting into Umbridge's office and trying to chew off her rings.

"That poor Niffler," Remus said in concern.

"I saw Hagrid nursing it that afternoon," Harry promised.

As well as Dungbombs and Stink Pellets were dropped so frequently in the corridors that the Bubble-Head Charm became a new trend,

"I'm glad that spell's gotten some popularity," James grinned even remembering the ire of not knowing about it when it would have come in handy.

even though it gave them all the peculiar appearance of wearing upside-down goldfish bowls on their heads.

"Well, whoever said fashion isn't functional clearly never met that trend setter," Lily giggled.

When he wasn't attending tasks, Filch was prowling the corridors with a horsewhip in hand, desperate to catch someone to use it on, but the problem was there were so many around he had no clue which way to turn.

Harry watched all of them shake their heads in disgust for that, Lily even starting to get a nervous tick picturing some poor innocent kid ending up on the wrong side of him, so soothed, "don't worry, as far as I know, no one actually did get a single hit. If ever it looked like he'd pinned down someone long enough, kids you'd never believe did something to distract him so others could run away. I saw this Slytherin fourth year knock over a statue on purpose after Filch was screaming at a little Hufflepuff girl for accidentally tripping over one and 'destroying school property.'"

As if they hadn't enough reason to smile already, that gave them all yet more warmth for this display.

The Inquisitorial Squad was trying to help, but odd things kept happening to the members. Warrington was submitted to the hospital wing for his skin being covered in something akin to burnt cornflakes,

"I feel like someone got a hold of more wartcap powder," Sirius smirked.

and Pansy missed all her lessons the following day as she had sprouted antlers.

James in particular looked pleased with this bit of magic, one of his personal favorite tricks when people asked why he was called Prongs was to grow antlers on others for answer and claim that as his signature spell.

It also became clear just how many Skiving Snackboxes Fred and George had sold in their time, as soon every one of Umbridge's classes were fainting, vomiting, high with fevers, or had blood pouring endlessly from their noses, claiming to have Umbridge-itis.

"A deadly disease I would not wish upon my worst enemy," Remus kept grinning wider every second.

"I don't know, what do you think would happen if we put Voldemort and Umbridge in the same room?" Sirius couldn't help but ask.

"Either they'll kill each other-" Lily said hopefully.

"Or she'll have a new master to follow and somehow become even more terrifying," James shivered. "I still can't believe she's not actually a Death Eater!"

After putting four successive classes in detention and failing to discover their secret,

Harry sighed heavily for that one, rubbing at the back of his hand in remembrance. Madam Pomfrey had ordered whole stocks of Essence of Murtlap and had started handing them out without question, but none of that made it feel better to see others suffering what he had.

she was forced to let the droves of students leave.

In all their efforts though, no student had come close to the master of chaos, Peeves, who seemed to have taken Fred's words to heart.

James looked as if he'd found a treasure map, ticking off each item Peeves did like a new nugget of gold!

In a constant state of cackling, he was never seen without anymore; bursting through walls to scare anyone on the other side, knocking over whatever was upright, regularly shutting Mrs. Norris into anything available, smashing anything remotely breakable, juggling lit candles, flooding whole hallways, dropping tarantulas into the Great Hall during meals,

"I'll bet Ron loved that one," Remus got out in between James' breathless retelling.

and whenever he fancied a break, spent hours at a time floating along after Umbridge and blowing loud raspberries every time she spoke.

"I am actually impressed," Lily said faintly. "I never thought he could get worse!"

None of the staff but Filch seemed to be stirring themselves to help her.

"I'd be worried if they were," James wheezed, acting so giddy upon reading such massive mayhem he was likely to pass out soon. Of all the regimes going on inside their school, all the hateful new being passed around his son, finally some good was being the cause of it all!

In exact opposite it seemed, as Harry distinctly saw McGonagall pass by Peeves trying to unscrew a chandelier, and she told him it worked the other way.

Sirius fist pumped the air in triumph, all of them red faced from laughter and wishing McGonagall was here already so they could give her a hug in congratulations.

To cap matters, Montague had still not recovered from his sojourn in the toilet;

Sirius managed an extra hard laugh for that swift remembrance.

and his parents had been summoned to the school, the trio watching their arrival on the front lawn through their Charms class.

Hermione was worried they should say something about what happened to him, if it might help Madam Pomfrey cure him.

"Nah," the three Marauders said at once, while Harry rubbed at his temple in some empathy for Montague and Lily just shook her head at them.

Then they froze, and looked to Harry like any hint of no remorse upon another student would set him back into thinking the worst of them again. He however only considered this like he did all their passing comments, just them mouthing off. Even if they did mean it, he still couldn't really care, Madam Pomfrey had fixed worse injuries without anyone's help.

Ron said no at once, he'd be fine.

Harry agreeing it only caused more problems for Umbridge.

"This is true, it's not a good mark for the woman parents have to come up to the school," James smirked.

Not at all distracted, the two tried to tap their teacups and have legs grow from them. The spell was supposed to be like Hermione's, who's had grown four strong willow sticks and was trotting around happily.* Instead, Harry's grew such tiny stumps they didn't even bend enough to bring his cup off the desk, and Ron's were so flimsy the cup stood for only a second before falling and cracking in half.

Hermione repaired Ron's cup for him while still speaking if Montague was permanently injured?

Remus actually considered that for a second, again remembering the half broken cabinet and genuinely wondering if something had gone permanently wrong there.

Harry suddenly felt a heavy twitch cross his mind, some dire warning he should have paid more attention to this, because someone had...but he tried to shake that off and told, "I feel like he recovered." For some reason though, this only made him feel worse, and they easily let the matter drop, all confident Pomfrey could fix this.

Ron insisted no one cared, this was only a good thing for their already slim chances at the Quidditch Cup. If Hermione wanted someone to worry about, let it be him.

"Oh Ron, the spell's not that hard," Lily giggled, Flitwick would probably just assign them more homework practice.

While putting his finger under his cup to help support its weight, he told them he was expecting a howler any day now when it got through Umbridge's screening process.

"Why?" Sirius said slowly.

"If I'd guessed, it would have been back when the DA had been outed, but it's been far too long, he hasn't done anything more recently," James agreed curiously.

Hermione tried to ask why, but Ron was already explaining his mum was going to blame him for not stopping the twins leaving. He should have grabbed their broom tails or something to stop them, this was somehow going to be all his fault.

"Oh, she wouldn't," Lily tried to say even if her tone showed no signs of meaning it.

"I really can't see even Molly doing this one," Sirius shook his head. "I don't remember her ever saying to go after the twins once he got his Prefect badge. She's got a bad habit of comparing the youngest to the elders, but never seems to have expected the younger set to tell the elder ones off."

Harry at least fervently hoped so, Ron most certainly did not deserve that one when Harry was their enabler in all of this.

Hermione said if she did, it would be entirely unfair, he couldn't have done anything.

Harry grinned for Hermione again, thankful that finally she seemed to be on their side again in these arguments.

She was confident Molly wouldn't, clearly they had been planning this anyways if they had premise in Diagon Alley.

Ron said that was something odd though, as he wrapped his teacup to try the spell again, but he'd hit it so hard it only fell again.

"I don't think that's helping," Lily randomly giggled.

Where had they gotten the gold for that? Their mum was going to want to know.

"Did they never ask you what you did with your Triwizard Winnings?" James asked. He knew Harry had never told them, but his friends had never brought it up?

"I guess they just assumed I shoved it into my vault," Harry shrugged.

Hermione agreed that had occurred to her too, ignoring her own cup that was going in circles around Harry's cup who still hadn't tried moving with its stubby legs.

"This is just getting insulting," Lily couldn't stop giggling even while she said it.

She'd been wondering if they'd been doing work for Mundungus to get that kind of money.

"That wouldn't have been a bad guess," Remus agreed.

Harry said they hadn't at once.

"You finally going to tell them, because otherwise that was idiotic," Sirius scolded.

"I wasn't going to have their family thinking they'd done something illegal," Harry sighed. "I'd far rather Mrs. Weasley hate me than think something like that of anymore of her children."

"She's not going to hate you," James at once said with conviction. "The only thing she might be is flustered at the generosity, but she'll just have to get over that."

They asked how Harry would know that, and he only hesitated a moment before finally telling why.

Hermione was so surprised, her cup took a dive off the desk and neither of them noticed.

"Timing," Lily gave the loudest snicker of all.

Ron stated this was excellent, at once asking if he could tell his mum this was all Harry's fault!

Sirius burst out with laughter once again, James nodding along and agreeing, "Ron's priorities."

Harry agreed he'd better, especially if she was going to start thinking her sons had stolen cauldrons.

"I can see why you wanted to wait," Remus agreed, "now they're really going and she can't guilt them into giving it back."

Hermione said nothing at all for the rest of the lesson, but Harry had a shrewd suspicion that her self-restraint was bound to crack before long.

They all sighed, not particularly wanting to hear another Hermione lecture about what Harry had done stupidly lately.

Sure enough, once they were out in the quad in the weak May light, she turned to him with a determined look on her face, so Harry interrupted before she could start.

"Has that ever helped?" Sirius asked in surprise.

"Nope, but it was worth a shot after the last time she spent a whole day on it," Harry sighed.

He told her not to even start, it was over and done with, and to save her breath because he did not regret doing this for them.

Hermione sounded hurt when she said she wasn't going to say anything about that.

"Maybe if she wasn't nagging you all the time, she wouldn't be so offended when you try to stop her doing it," Remus rolled his eyes.

"Oh stop," Harry cut them off with a sigh. "Hermione's a bit much, I know that better than anyone, but lay off her for a bit, I jumped the wrong conclusion that time."

They gave in with a muttered apology.

Ron snorted disbelievingly and Hermione threw him a very dirty look.

"Can't say that wasn't deserved though," Remus muttered.

She insisted she wasn't, she'd wanted to ask him when he was going to ask Snape for more Occlumency lessons

"Why!" Sirius demanded. "He's been tortured enough this year!"

Once Fred and George's dramatic departure had evaporated their talk, the two had wanted to know what Harry had gone to talk to Sirius about. Still failing to explain the initial reason, Harry instead told them it had been to do with Snape stopping his lessons and Sirius wanted him to keep going with them.

James crinkled his nose at this, saying, "there are far too many holes in that, I'm not surprised Hermione's trying to get the real story."

"That's still not why she was having a go at me," Harry groaned.

He had regretted this ever since, as Hermione had then chosen to bring the subject up again when Harry least expected it.

"Ah, well honestly this one's your own fault, I could have told you not to bring this back up with her," Lily rolled her eyes.

"Especially as you still have no intentions of doing it," Remus shook his head, Harry's expression made that abundantly clear, and he felt quite sore his warning had so easily been brushed off by Harry.

Hermione snapped at him he couldn't pretend like they weren't needed, Ron had said he'd been muttering in his sleep again.

Harry gave Ron a furious look, who had the grace to be ashamed.

"I don't know, I can see the good of that one," Lily sighed as she saw some snippy comment on Sirius' lips. "He's worried about his friend, not on the same level as Hermione, but both recognize far more than you seem to this shouldn't be entertained," she finished with a look at Harry, who also had the grace to look ashamed for never trying harder at this. He wasn't sure if it was his mother's guilt trip, or something far more unspeakable that was causing him to feel this so heavily...

Ron apologetically said for both it had only been a bit, he'd been muttering about reaching further.

Harry lied he'd been dreaming of Quidditch, he wanted Ron to reach out just a bit further for the Quaffle.

Ron's ears went red, while Harry didn't feel a drop of remorse for lying.

"Brutal," Sirius laughed in surprise.

"But deserved," James sighed.

He had in fact again dreamed all the way up to the room full of glass spun orbs, but again woken up feeling he'd been moments away from the true want.

James stopped in alarm at the noise Harry made, all of them looking to him with deep concern as he groaned with misery, head in his hands again, breathing so heavily they could have been his last breaths.

"Harry!" James swiftly put the book aside at such an alarming reaction that somehow got worse each time this was brought up. "Harry, calm down! You're going to be fine, whatever is in there, you are going to be fine!"

This had no effect on making him better, as that was not what was gripping him so tight he couldn't breath. It wasn't his safety he so feared.

"It's okay, it's going to be okay," Sirius insisted, looking frantically to Lily or Remus to help, but they had no more clue what left him in such a mess. "Erm, what if I-" his mind flagged desperately for something to distract Harry with, "show you how we created the Marauders Map!"

"What?" Harry looked up in genuine surprise, the pain from his skull not yet fully subsiding which must explain the tears trickling out, but he wiped furiously at them to keep his attention on Sirius.

"Yeah," he confirmed at once. "Something to look forward to!"

James agreed at once, saying, "it took me a few days to create it, but it won't take near as long to recreate it. I've been wanting to show Lily anyways, you'll both get a kick out it."

Harry gave a slow nod, taking easier breaths now as he kept this promise tight inside him. Whatever horrid thing had happened in his past to cause this feeling, they were right, he had something he could cling to now as a promise he wouldn't have to relive his memory long.

James waited an extra moment to make sure Harry wasn't going to set himself into a full blown panic attack before gingerly picking the book back up, almost afraid of what else it was going to do to his son if this topic didn't change soon.

Hermione inquired then that he was still trying with his Occlumency?

Harry lied and said he was, but the truth was he was curious about all this and wanted the dreams to keep going.

Harry's whole center shook, he looked very much like he would collapse in a fit in moments. Clearly what he'd been thinking at fifteen, the exact opposite was trying to run through his mind now, and the two together were wreaking havoc inside of him.

James reached over again, grasping his shoulder firmly until he fought back for control, still waving him to go on adamantly for this to just be over with.

The problem was, with less than a month till exams, his mind usually seemed much more focused on stupid dreams.

"First you were complaining about them, now you want them and you're not getting enough of them," Remus tried to get a rise out of Harry instead of watching him tear himself apart for something he couldn't yet understand. "You never can seem to make up your mind eh?"

Harry offered him a flimsy smile that was as weak as the toddler upstairs.

He also suspected the more Hermioneish part of his mind was guilting him into waking up before the journey's end.

"Hermione doesn't seem so bad now she's right," James offered as Harry kept rubbing at his temples.

Sirius gave Remus a sympathetic look as well which Moony easily grasped. It wasn't just him being ignored, Harry wasn't taking advice from anyone about this.

Something new to distract him was the final match of the Quidditch season, Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw, which was to take place on the last weekend of May. Although Slytherin had been narrowly defeated by Hufflepuff in their last match,

"Wow, where's my description of that match!" Sirius yelped, grasping at any pleasant conversation, and this was an easy one.

"Nothing too memorable happened," Harry shrugged. "Malfoy actually caught the Snitch, for once, but he took Krum's way out. Hufflepuff was winning on points, Montague hadn't come back yet and the appointed Slytherin was a right idiot, I don't know what they were doing during training but it wasn't practicing."

"As much as they deserve," James cheered, wriggling in pleasure even as he kept a close eye on Harry to make sure he really was trying to put mention of that Department past him.

Gryffindor did not yet dare for a victory, though no one said it to him, because of Ron's goalkeeping ability.

Ron took his own outlook on the morning of, telling them at least he couldn't get any worse.

"There's the bright side," Lily snickered in surprise, while James just looked bemused at this. Better than constantly ragging on himself he supposed.

As Harry and Hermione were shuffling into the crowd, Hermione mentioned she suspected this game might just go better because Fred and George weren't around, they never helped his confidence.

"I can see that," Remus said fairly.

"They mocked him from time to time," Sirius disagreed, "but they were never so bad I think it damaged Ron any more than that horrid song. I don't think they'll make a real difference to him."

"Least Angelina already had their replacements," James grumbled, still wishing it was Harry on that pitch rather than Ginny, he was sick of reading side line events, he wanted to be back in the air!

Luna Lovegood overtook them with what appeared to be a live eagle perched on top of her head.

The boys burst out in surprised laughter Luna had indeed gone further with that idea!

It was as Harry watched this though, not at all mean spirited but that recent memory still with him, that the expression they'd first carried upon hearing of her finally clicked as he turned sharply to them. "Would you lot have done all that to Luna?"

James' automatic response wanted to be no, but he still considered the question for a moment before saying slowly, "ah, well, we certainly would have liked to have words with her, she's a fascinating thing."

"You would have mocked her?" Harry outright demanded with a raised brow.

Sirius blew a chunk of hair out of his face, but didn't deny, "guess it depends on how well we bothered to get to know her. We thought Remus was a right odd ball before we had a proper chat with him."

Harry saw they were still avoiding the question, as he'd honestly noticed outside their little group they didn't seem to 'converse' with much of anyone unless it was for a motive. Still though, he was just as fascinated they looked a touch ashamed even as they side stepped this. He hadn't realized his disapproval really meant so much to them.

Then the teams assembled on the edge of the field, and Hermione said her surprise she'd forgotten Cho would be playing. Harry grunted in response, he had not.

"Ex crush versus ex fan girl!" Sirius said loudly, very clearly trying not to let Harry linger on that last subject.

"Sadly I think Cho's got the better edge, she's played more games, actually wants this position," James eagerly put in.

"I wouldn't underestimate Ginny, we don't know how long Cho's been flying outside her house team, but we know Ginny's been doing it since single digits, she may well have the advantage," Remus offered insight.

Harry decided to let the Luna matter go, they'd yet to actually be doing anything wrong to her and there was no sense yelling at them for something they hadn't done wrong yet to one of his friends.

Across from them in the stands, the Slytherins were all filing in, and Harry hoped desperately they wouldn't have anymore chances to sing Weasley Is our King.

"I wasn't aware they needed an excuse, they just continued doing it because they're arse holes," Lily grumbled.

Lee Jordan, who had been very dispirited since Fred and George had left,

"That was it," Remus huffed for forgetting.

"Guess I can't blame him for not being in the mood to prank others when his mates up and did that," Sirius sighed.

was commentating as usual. As the teams zoomed out on to the pitch he named the players with something less than his usual gusto.

"I can just imagine McGonagall feeling sorry for the poor kid," James frowned sadly.

Harry watched Cho chat with Davies as the teams matched up, prepared to shake hands, and Harry found he only had a slight twinge of jealous as the two Ravenclaws smiled at each other before the captains shook hands.

"Guess that crush wasn't as gone as we thought," James looked to Harry in surprise, who only shrugged, he really didn't have much of a memory for this game, especially not Cho, though he wasn't exactly sure why. Surely even if he wasn't playing in it, he'd have a care? Maybe Ron really hadn't done any better and he'd tried to block the whole thing out, but that wasn't the right kind of disconnected feeling...

Lee began as usual, saying who had the Quaffle in what position, and Davies was already heading for Gryffindors goals, Gryffindor had a chance at making it, and- Lee swore.

"Least he hasn't lost all of his enthusiasm," Remus chuckled.

Ravenclaw had scored, and the Slytherins at once took up the chance with their song.

Harry and Hermione were distracted from what happened next by Hagrid sidling up to them, trying to remain crouched as if wanting to be out of sight, but even doubled over he was four feet taller than those next to him.

"Why's he trying to hide at all?" Lily asked in surprise. "He's been known to come to a few matches."

"Don't look at us," Remus shrugged even as he looked eagerly at James for this explanation that he had his fingers crossed in hope for.

He asked if they'd come with him, now, while everyone was watching the game.

"I can't believe I'm saying this," James gaped down at this, "but I'd actually go with him."

"If there's one thing to drag away a good Quidditch match," Sirius agreed, though finished rather threateningly, "but Hagrid had better finally be showing you what he's been up to, if it's for anything less, I'll find a way to curse that man through his skin for cutting this off."

Harry merely hummed in agreement.

Hagrid's nose was gently dripping blood. His eyes were both blackened. Harry had not seen him this close-up since his return to the school; he looked utterly woebegone.

Lily crooned loudly for the poor dear, all of them feeling a pain deep inside for what Hagrid was putting himself through. He must have a really good answer for this one!

Harry agreed without any thought.

Harry felt absolutely no regret for this decision, even as his face tightened just a bit, his innards promising this wasn't going to be a pleasant stroll.

The three got themselves out of the stands, Hagrid saying how much he appreciated them, and hoped she didn't see them leaving.

"Only one she I can think of," Lily spat, "and sadly she might have."

"She can't stop them from going off with Hagrid," Remus miserably tried to argue, already feeling it pointless.

Harry said Umbridge was surrounded by her Inquisitorial Squad like she was expecting trouble, there was a good chance she hadn't noticed them.

"Guess she understands less than I thought, which is saying something. No one would try a prank during a Quidditch game," Sirius heavily rolled his eyes.

Hagrid said that may be good for them, give them more time, as he started heading towards the Forest.

Lily began playing with a strand of hair with nerves. She knew Hagrid wasn't purposefully leading Harry to anything dangerous, but this was certainly not a pleasant beginning in her opinion, and it was nice to see the others faces showed agreement even as well used to the Forest as they were.

Hermione asked what they were doing as they went across the lawn, but in favor of answering Hagrid heard a roar go up from the crowd behind them and asked if someone else had scored.

Harry said it would be Ravenclaw again.

Harry winced heavily and they all felt the same, maybe leaving had been a good idea anyways, that wasn't fun to think about.

Hagrid was so distracted, he said this was a good thing.

"Now I know he's not thinking right," Sirius grumped.

Hermione tried to turn into Hagrid's cabin when they passed it, but Hagrid kept walking right to the edge of the trees where his crossbow was waiting.

"He must have just come back from whatever he was training," Remus realized.

"Think he thinks he's finally got it domesticated and wants to show off?" James asked, that didn't feel important enough to be dragged away from Quidditch, but then, Hagrid had different priorities.

"I still think there's something more than that going on," Lily sighed. "It's very clear Hagrid cares deeply for something new going on, just training a new best can't really mean more than his job?" She phrased it as a question though, none of them were quite sure of Hagrid's comments from before.

Harry asked why he needed that, he hadn't taken it with him when they'd seen the Thestrals.

"This new thing of his is less and less encouraging," Sirius agreed.

Hagrid said they hadn't been going in as deep, and that was before Firenze left the Forest.

"Why's that change anything?" Remus asked in surprise.

Hermione asked why that made a difference.

"Thank you Sirius!" Remus said quickly and with such a mocking gratitude you could almost believe it. "Really, just thank you so much for sharing that, I hadn't a clue I'd done it!"

"Alright, no need to get snippy," Sirius smirked.

Hagrid said the other centaurs were now very riled up. It used to be he could go wherever he liked in this Forest, they were always friendly, but not anymore.

"What's that got to do with Hagrid though?" James ruffled up his brow.

"Familiar loyalty," Sirius nodded to himself as he explained aloud. "The centaurs know Hagrid's trust in Dumbledore, they'll blame anyone associated with him right now for what he asked a Centaur to do."

"But it was Firenze's decision," Harry protested. "Why be mad at us?"

"For offering it," Remus sighed.

Harry felt a deep chill web around his mind, promising he had no want to deal with an angry centaur.

Angry didn't cover it, they were livid with Dumbledore and Firenze, probably would have kicked their fellow centaur to death if Hagrid hadn't stepped in, he'd had half the herd on him.

They all gave sympathetic noises for that, Harry even saw some traces of fear in them at the same time. He could hardly imagine the scene himself, but just the thought was giving him the creeps, it probably was terrifying thinking about all this in detail when he wasn't so distracted wondering why he may have seen it in person.

Harry was amazed Hagrid had stopped all that, and Hagrid said he certainly couldn't have just stood by. Then he added more menacingly he'd have thought Firenze would remember that before sending stupid warnings.

"I'm worried he was trying to return a favor," Lily muttered, still considering Hagrid's injuries. They weren't yet deadly, but if he kept at it, they may keep progressing.

Hermione asked if that's what Hagrid wanted their help with, the centaurs?

"Oh he'd never ask for your help with that," Remus said at once.

"And those injuries started up well before this," Lily agreed.

Hagrid simply said no, and kept plunging deeper into the shadows. Harry wasn't too worried, he'd been in the Forest a few times and followed Hagrid willingly, until he stepped off the path. Remembering vividly what had happened in his past when he did this, he tried to ask where they were going, but Hagrid didn't answer as he plunged into the more wild parts of the woods. Harry and Hermione had a hard time following, often getting caught in thickets and brambles while Hagrid walked right through them.

"I'm surprised he hasn't created a new path, as often as he seems to have headed to this thing," James said, his eyes still narrowed suspiciously to what Hagrid had added to a Forest he knew so well.

After several miles of heavy silence where even the snapping of a twig felt ominous, it occurred to him that he had never managed to get this far into the Forest without meeting some kind of creature.

The tense unease kept growing in here, like the book was pressing that darkness out and shadowing the whole room with its eerie vibe. Harry had yet had a very pleasant experience in this Forest in any sense, and even with Hagrid inviting them into this one, they could already feel it wasn't going to turn out much better.

When Hagrid came to an abrupt halt, Harry walked right into him and fell back into a thorny bush Hermione had to dig him out of.

Hagrid apologized and decided to explain back here before they got to the spot, and began by saying there was a good chance he'd be getting the sack any day.

"He did not bring them all the way out there to say that," Sirius rolled his eyes.

"No," Remus agreed, "but we know he finds this more important than that, so at least we're finally getting that answer."

Hermione said he'd done well so far, what changed?

Hagrid said Umbridge thought he'd put that Niffler in her office.

"That's ridiculous," Remus scoffed at once, it was akin to him doing that, and he'd never put anything in her vicinity if he could help it.

"And when has she ever done anything remotely reasonable," Sirius' face was scrunched up for the ludicrousness of it even as he agreed.

Harry asked if it was before he'd thought about it.

"Harry," James said in exasperation, his son should know full well Hagrid would never use a creature for such a purpose.

"I know," Harry agreed with his idiotics. "Reflex question." This lot knew all about that.

Hagrid said no, but that hadn't convinced Umbridge, who associated any problems with creatures on him. He'd honestly leave now so that he wouldn't have to suffer in public like Trelawney had.

James didn't have to think about that one at all as he nodded in agreement, he could respect that.

He'd be useful to the Order out there helping Dumbledore.

"Hagrid knows where Dumbledore is?" That one caught Remus by surprise.

"I wouldn't be surprised if the Order actually does," Lily shrugged, "even if we're not sure now."

They had Grubbly-Plank to get them through their exams, his voice wobbled there and broke.

Lily felt a heartbreaking sigh pour out of her, she didn't want Hagrid to ever feel unneeded! She wanted him in her son's life just for being such a good man, no matter how he was in a class!

The problem was, he couldn't just leave without telling anyone, and he needed their help, and Ron's if he was willing.

Harry agreed at once asking what he needed them to do?

"You have such a big heart," Lily told her son, starting to feel a little teary eyed herself for what Hagrid was going through.

Harry had no response for that, he'd do anything to help his friend.

Hagrid thanked them tearfully, and led them the rest of the way.

"I thought he said he was going to explain!" Sirius said, the suspense was about to kill him. "He just stopped to tell them what was going on!"

"That's the same thing," Remus told him just to keep James paused for an extra second.

Sirius scowled at him, while James decided to ignore them anyways.

They reached a small clearing where a great mound was in front of them like a den, and all around were trees ripped up by the roots. Hagrid breathed sleeping, and Harry heard it too, a great set of lungs at work. He looked sideways at Hermione, who looked terrified.

"I don't blame her," Remus muttered, his mind flipping through all sorts of things that lived inside mounds, though as this could be something undiscovered even any of those may not be possible.

James was more in deep curiosity than anything. Hagrid was there, he had no fear Harry would come to any harm.

She asked who is he?

"Err," Lily began in confusion, sure she'd heard wrong.

Then she kept going, her voice shaking why he was here, Hagrid had said none wanted to come!

"What's, Hermione, on, about?" Sirius said slowly, he couldn't put together such a declaration with just an animal...

Harry looked to Hagrid, Hermione, and then realization struck as he looked back at the mounded earth, which in fact was moving in time with the deep breaths. It was a curved back.

"A giant!" Remus interrupted with a near shriek. "He actually brought a giant into that forest!"

James' voice had failed him, his mouth left hanging open so he couldn't have kept going even when the book had broken off. This truly was a new level of unbelievable.

"Has he lost his mind!" Sirius was so blown away by this one he wouldn't even deny the squeak in his voice. "A giant! A real, bloody, giant!"

Harry felt just as numb as the others from shock, but it was his fumbling fingers that snagged the book away to try and force this to keep going.

Hagrid agreed he hadn't exactly wanted to, but Hagrid had to bring him.

"It's his family," Lily whispered, her eyes still too wide from shock, but a flash of understanding lit them nonetheless.

"When he was at the Three Broomsticks," James recalled breathlessly.

"Oh Hagrid," Remus groaned in sudden understanding, genuine sympathy now for the man even if he couldn't find the air to really say it.

Sirius wasn't quite there yet, he was still putting his mind into the thought someday he'd walk into his Forest and a giant would be there!

Hermione demanded why!

Hagrid insisted that if he just spent a little time around here, taught him some manners, he could show everyone how harmless he was.

"Harmless!" Lily said near hysterics. "He's been beating the shit out of him for months!"

"Hasn't killed him yet though," Sirius couldn't help but point out as this started to fully form in his mind.

"Was that supposed to make me feel better?" Lily demanded, her voice wasn't lowering in volume and starting to hurt their ears.

Hermione accused this was why he was always injured. Hagrid defended he didn't know his own strength.

"That I'd actually believe," Remus said slowly, some form of acceptance starting to set in as he really thought past the shock.

Hermione still couldn't believe this was why he'd taken two extra months to get home!

"Yeah, I'd say lugging a giant behind you could slow you down!" Lily's voice was still extremely high pitched, but at least she was making an attempt to lower it now.

Hermione demanded why he had, he'd have been happier with his own kind!

Hagrid insisted he'd been picked on while there for being so small.

"Small." James repeated the word slowly, shaking his head back and forth as he was stuck in the same vision as Sirius, their forays into the Forest suddenly being interrupted by a giant crashing through a nearby tree, no one wanted to know how Moony would have reacted to that. Yet thankfully Harry reading was putting a good distance from that image, and James got the book back from Harry without fuss.

Hermione repeated small in near hysterics.

"I suppose, by that description, he's either not fully grown, or a runt," Remus nodded.

"Try telling him that," Harry muttered, his mind still boggled at such a huge movement as his breathing.

Hagrid pleaded with them to understand, near tears as he told that was his brother.

"That, is a relation, that makes sense," Lily grudgingly agreed, finally her voice only just a touch more off than usual, but sympathy for Hagrid's situation was finally pushing past the shock. It was the same as always, she trusted Hagrid. If he said his brother hadn't meant to hurt anyone, then she'd just have to believe he wasn't going to turn on her son the moment he awoke.

Well, half-brother, he amended. His mum had another child when she'd left his dad, Grawp here.

"Grawp?" Harry repeated curiously.

"Never claimed giants had our kind of names," Sirius shrugged, his brow still set deep in thought, but now he was almost back to normal and could appreciate Hagrid's position at least.

Harry wasn't sure he'd heard that right, and Hagrid said that's what he thought was being said when asked for a name. He didn't know much English, though Hagrid had been teaching him. His mother had abandoned Grawp as well for being so small, so he was all alone, he was only sixteen feet.

"Poor Hagrid," Lily went new, her voice now coming out in a whisper as now she felt like Hagrid needed a hug, after she popped him over the head for giving her heart failure.

Hermione's voice was still in shrieking shock as she said how miniscule that was!

"Who knew Hermione turned sarcastic during these times," Sirius muttered, he couldn't get a joke to his mind yet.

Hagrid insisted he was being kicked around by the others.

Harry asked what Maxime had thought of this, and Hagrid said she'd realized how important this was to him, but got tired of fighting to get him back, so she'd just promised not to tell anyone.

"Good woman, that," James sighed, knowing he'd probably have done the exact same as Maxime, he wouldn't pretend he'd try to handle a giant, even a...small one.

Harry asked how he'd even gotten back here. Hagrid explained they could only travel by night and very out of the way, Grawp could cover quite a bit of distance when he wanted to, the problem was he didn't, kept wanting to go back.

Harry gave a pitiful sigh, he didn't need to ask. He'd been kicked around plenty in his youth but had always returned home because he'd always known he had nowhere else to go. Hagrid seemed to have a gift for taking wayward souls away.

Hermione buried her face in her fingers as she asked why Hagrid hadn't just let him, what was he going to do with a violent giant?

Hagrid defended violent was too strong, he took a swing now and again when he was in a mood, but he was getting better.

Harry asked what the ropes were for then?

"Well if he was wanting to go back, I suppose I can see Hagrid stopping him leaving when he wasn't around," Sirius frowned heavily.

As Harry's eyes had adjusted and made out more detail, he found ropes binding the giants ankles and around his waist.

Hagrid repeated he didn't know his own strength, and Harry now understood why there were no other creatures in the area.

"Oh yeah, I can see that," James finally nodded at something that made sense to him in his forest.

Hermione circled back to asking what Hagrid wanted them to do?

"Almost forgot about that," Remus shivered, he didn't like the idea of Harry around...Grawp with Hagrid around, now Hagrid was asking them to keep looking after a hateful giant after Hagrid was gone! How was this worse than the Skrewts?

Hagrid just said he needed looking after, while Harry and Hermione exchanged an uncomfortable look, well aware they'd already promised Hagrid they would.

"I feel as if at some point there's a line, and he crossed it," Lily said miserably, as she wouldn't feel right backing out of this either even with the circumstances. "A bruised rib to Hagrid could knock your skeleton right out of you! I'm sorry Harry, but I'm worried this one's above you!"

Harry certainly wasn't going to argue the point.

Harry did not argue the point, and they were just as relieved as they were upset for Hagrid Harry didn't seem gung ho to keep this particular promise.

Hermione asked for details, and Hagrid said nothing too big. He got his own food, birds or deer that traveled through,

James looked vaguely offended, even if he knew it to be true. It just wasn't helping his mind's eye as he kept imagining trying to run away from this thing.

Hagrid really just wanted them to come out here and talk to him, help teach him along in talking.

Harry said nothing as he kept eying Grawp, picking out details. Now he saw that his feet were the size of sleds and bare, his clothes seemed roughly stitched together. His head was like a boulder sitting right atop his shoulders with his ears sitting more on the area where his neck should be.

Remus couldn't deny a touch of fascination in him at Harry's description. He'd only heard general depictions of them as well, and though he still had no want to meet one in person, Harry's were always more vivid than usual texts.

Harry hollowly repeated Hagrid's want for them to teach him English. He now understood what Firenze's warning had meant.

"I almost wish I didn't," Sirius grumbled, in this case ignorance had been bliss.

He could just imagine the other creatures of this Forest hearing Hagrid's vain attempts to teach Grawp English.

Hagrid agreed cheerfully, even if they just came out here to chat with him, keep him around people.

Harry looked to Hermione and said it made him wish for Norbert back.

Sirius blanched for a moment, but after considering he told, "no, actually this is still marginally better. I'll take whatever form of intelligence this thing posses over that beast."

"Wow," Harry said towards him, as of now he'd still rather have it the other way.

Hagrid misunderstood, confirming that they'd do it?

"He really didn't get that was supposed to be a bad thing?" James muttered, that concept seemed lost on Hagrid quite a bit.

Harry uneasily said they'd try-

Hagrid beamed at him, saying he'd known he could count on him!

Even as Lily shook her head in exasperation for Hagrid, she was smiling just a bit as well now. She couldn't deny some part of her was happy for Hagrid finally having a bit of family back to him.

He insisted it wouldn't be much, just nip out here once a week, then he decided to introduce them.

Hermione said that wasn't necessary!

"Well yes it is," Remus corrected. "Much safer to be first seen with Hagrid, at least he knows him."

"And considers him his kidnapper," James reminded hollowly. "So I'm really torn here."

Harry still didn't want to say what was really on his mind, he didn't really have a want to see Grawp again with or without Hagrid.

Hagrid ignored them, picked up a long sturdy branch, and jabbed Grawp in the back with it.

"He just poked a giant!" James said faintly, unable to believe what he'd just said and stuck on that one for several moments before Harry gave him a commiserating pat on the shoulder that was probably supposed to be reassuring.

Grawp woke with an ear splitting roar that shook birds from trees. He got onto his knees to turn around and see who was here, and Hagrid greeted him as Grawpy, telling he'd brought company.

Harry and Hermione backpedaled as far as they could while keeping him in sight, as his face leaned in like a dull grey full moon.

All three Marauders blanched in shock at the description they weren't taking kindly too.

His features seemed misshapen, the nose of no real design, the hair looking more like moss even a dark brown, and his pupils were rather tiny and currently still cummed with sleep. He took to his feet with surprising agility and turned away.

"Don't ever underestimate speed for size," Remus agreed, James wanting to smack him for starting to sound more interested than resigned like the rest of them.

He went over to the nearest tree and plucked a birds nest up out of the higher branches, turning it upside down and pelting them with eggs like grenades below.

"I can see how riveted he was by the company," James said deadpan.

"Be pleased while it lasts," Lily grumbled, at least finding some small comfort Grawp hadn't at once started trying to take Hagrid's limb off.

Hagrid tried to keep his attention, yelling to Grawp about that trip he'd be going on, and these were his new friends who'd be coming to visit him.

"I thought he couldn't understand English quite yet," Sirius shifted uneasily.

"I can see why Hagrid does it though," Remus shrugged, "that's one of the ways you learn other languages, hearing them as well as practicing to speak them."

"Oh, so now it's a good idea," James frowned at him.

"I'm not saying Harry should do it," Remus defended, "I just understand why Hagrid is talking to him."

Grawp took no notice, Harry wasn't even sure if the giant recognized what Hagrid was doing was speech. He'd instead sized the nearest tree and began pulling on the top, the fascination on his face making it clear he did it for the simple pleasure of seeing how far he could go before it would spring back.

"Exactly how old is he?" Lily asked.

"Not sure," Harry muttered, "I only know what Hagrid said."

"He could be older than Hagrid, we don't know which kid came first, though I think Hagrid assumed it was himself." Remus shrugged.

"Either way, I don't see what that has to do with anything," Sirius muttered.

Lily considered this response more to do with the fact Sirius would probably try to do the same thing if he was that size no matter what age.

Hagrid tried to tell him not to, that's how he'd pulled up the last ones, but when the creaking roots could be heard, Hagrid intervened and gave him another jab with the stick.

Grawp looked down with an expression of clear annoyance as Hagrid waved to Harry and Hermione. Grawp only just seemed to realize their presence as he gazed down at them still half hidden behind a tree.

"How good is a giant's eye sight?" Harry asked wearily, he wasn't going to enjoy the experience of one checking out his hairline.

"As good as ours I'd imagine," Remus scratched at his ear. "Perhaps better, as they hunt more naturally than we do."

He introduced Harry first, and tried to do the same for Hermione, but realized her full name may be beyond him, so asked her if he could call her Hermy.

Hermione gave a squeaky agreement.

"I know I would have protested," Sirius sniffed. "If my name was the first four syllable word he'd said, it could be an accomplishment."

Hagrid introduced Hermy to Grawp,

"So does that mean we can start calling her-"

"No," Harry told Sirius flatly before he could even finish.

saying she was going to come out here as well and, Grawp no!

James nearly jumped from his chair in surprise, he hadn't intended to shout that so loud but he'd just been getting back to a place of normalcy in his mind as he adjusted to this situation, now Hagrid was scolding him!

Grawp's hand had shot out of nowhere and tried to seize Hermione, but Harry reacted a moment faster and pulled her back behind the tree as Grawps palm scraped against the bark but seized on air.

Lily gasped, watching Harry's arms tense at his side now like he was prepared to pull her away again.

Hagrid scolded he was being a bad boy, not to grab, while Hermione clung to Harry whimpering.

"Oh, he wouldn't have really hurt her!" Remus tried, and failed to say even as he'd gone a bit white in shock. "He might have just been trying to pick her up, out of curiosity-"

"And look how well that's worked out for Hagrid," Harry shuddered all over.

Then Hagrid let out his own yelp of pain, and Harry poked his head back out to see Grawp had swatted Hagrid away and gone back to his tree.

"Good to know of his attention span I suppose," James tried to say around a squeak, there was just no way he could find some fun in this one.

Hagrid stumped over to them holding his newly broken nose, saying that was enough for one day.

Some color finally started coming back to James' face, Lily was still rubbing at her chest, and the other three were still trying hard not to show they were shaking. A giant. This was a new level, even for Hagrid...

They began walking away, Harry and Hermione still struck dumb. Hagrid actually wanted them to come visit a giant in the Forbidden Forest and pointlessly teach him English?

"Now that's pushing it," Remus couldn't quite push into scolding as he was still shifting his weight in unease. "You heard Hagrid say he had full conversations with them, they can be spoken to as well as a Centaur if you give them half a chance, this one in particular just never seems to have been put into any type of situation like this."

Harry looked at him like he wasn't sure what to say to that. He'd put up with a lot of crazy things for Hagrid, and this one still felt like the worst.

Harry had never understood Hagrid's insistence the most killing things were lovable and harmless, but this was a new one fooling himself Grawp could mix with humans.

"That one is stretching it just a touch," Sirius agreed. "He'd be just fine spending his days in a far off proximity, but not unapproachable, if Hagrid shows we're not all bad." He couldn't quite put the right tone into place, he still wanted to rage at Hagrid for putting a giant into the Forbidden Forest! If the name hadn't been appropriate before, it was now!

Then Hagrid took them both by surprise by drawing his crossbow and fitting an arrow in.

"There's a giant in the forest," Lily enunciated clearly like they already would have forgotten. "I can't imagine something much scarier, and Hagrid hadn't pulled a weapon on him."

Even still, James was back to bouncing his leg with unease. He knew plenty of things Harry could expect in there, and it was good for Hagrid to be on guard, they seemed far enough away from Grawp this was necessary.

They waited in tense silence until a male voice told Hagrid he was no longer welcome here.

"Can the Centaurs do that?" James protested in further outrage, that was somehow even more offensive to him than the giant.

"By our laws, no," Remus said carefully. "The Forest is property of the school, so it's technically Hogwarts land...but the Centaurs may well recognize no such thing. It's rather a conflict that's never had to be brought up in our history, for we've never fought over the space."

"That Forest has been there since Hufflepuff sanctioned it back when the castle was being built," Sirius offered to Harry.

"The stories are unclear though, if the Centaurs were already in the area, or if the Hogwarts Founders created it and they claimed it," James sighed.

Lily was honestly impressed at their history lesson, and so apparently was Harry as he tried to keep focus on this and told them how interesting that was even as he kept looking worriedly at nothing. He didn't like this set up, Grawp not too far off, angry centaurs...

A whole group of centaurs had arrived, including one Harry recognized as Bane. Hagrid wearily greeted the foremost, Magorian, who gave no friendly greeting back, repeating Hagrid was no longer welcome here after he'd helped the traitor Firenze enter servitude.

Hagrid protested this, saying he was doing a favor for Dumbledore!

"There is no point arguing this," James said tensely. Even having Hagrid describe the fight before had made him uneasy, now Harry may well find himself in the middle of it.

"Hagrid won't really start something," Lily tried to say with conviction, "he'll get them out of there, he's been dealing with this for a while now at least."

The centaur said there was no coming back from such disgrace, and Hagrid had lost the friendship of the centaurs by helping him, he was no longer welcome in their forest.

Hagrid shot back he wasn't going to be hearing any of this 'their'. It wasn't their say who came and went here.

Magorian cut in no more than Hagrid's. He'd let him pass today because he was with his young,

"His young," James couldn't help but mutter that a second time, though they'd all long since noticed Hagrid seemed to have as unofficially adopted the kids as much as Molly had.

Bane interrupted they were not his, but students, profiting from the teachings of the traitor Firenze!

"I would not call his vague life's a mystery speech profiting," Sirius rolled his eyes.

"Not helping," Remus hissed at him.

Magorian did not waver, they did not hurt the innocent. Hagrid may pass today, but this was his final warning.

Hagrid shouted he wasn't going to let these mules tell him where he could and couldn't go.

They all began itching terribly in fear of this fight. It was probably easier not being there, but they could see both sides in light, and didn't care about either! They just wanted Harry to get out of there!

The centaurs turned to leave anyways, but Hagrid kept shouting after them he wasn't going to let them scare him off. Harry and Hermione put their hands on Hagrid's back to try and force him to move along, but then he glanced down in surprise like he hadn't even felt it.

"Bloody hell," James blinked in surprise. Not that they'd ever tried, but they'd have liked to think Hagrid would have at least registered the two!

He told them to calm down, they wouldn't really do anything, then he took off again as if nothing had happened.

Hermione uneasily kept pace, trying to say to Hagrid that if the centaurs weren't letting people come through, than the three of them wouldn't be much help to Grawp.

Hagrid brushed this off, repeating their own words they wouldn't hurt the innocent. Besides, they shouldn't let those centaurs push them around.

"I see where he's coming from," Sirius said genuinely, he knew he'd have a few things to say if a centaur had ever told them off for being caught in there.

"But while I admire Hagrid for not letting them push him around," James grudgingly agreed, "it wouldn't kill him not to insult them while he's at it!"

"A little avoidance can go a long way," Remus agreed, knowing Hagrid knew this place well enough he should be able to pass by Centaur heavy areas just like they could.

Harry watched all of them with a small smile of pride in place. As if he'd needed further evidence they weren't still fifteen, but here they were actually speaking of avoiding a real life fight.

Harry told Hermione nice try at her disappointment this hadn't made a dent in Hagrid.

They rejoined the daylight to see people pouring out of the stadium laughing and cheering,

James spluttered in surprise, he'd actually forgotten a game was going on!

"Well, I found something to cheer me up next time Ron's goal keeping is mentioned," Sirius groaned. "Teaching ABC's to a giant!"

and Hagrid told them to hurry along into that so they wouldn't be missed, then he went to his cabin. Harry and Hermione trudged back looking distinctly out of place with their numerous tiny cuts and twigs in their hair, but Hermione took no notice of this as she said she couldn't believe him!

"Oh I do," Lily sighed. In Hagrid's...inflated world, she really did see where he was coming from, but did he have to drag Harry into this one?

Harry tried to get her to calm down, but she wouldn't hear it. A giant in the Forest! He wanted them to teach English to it, assuming they could get past the murderous centaurs!

"I think the centaurs scare me more than the giant!" Remus shivered harder than ever to prove his point.

"That didn't make me feel better," Harry told him, a still rather distracted look in place as he had no clue why he agreed with him.

Harry tried to say they didn't have to do anything yet, and Umbridge might not-

Hermione cut him off to say of course she'd get rid of him, and after this who could blame her!

"I can!" They yelped in protest. It was very clear Harry wasn't the only one losing his temper this year if Hermione was going to be saying nonsense like that!

There was a pause in which Harry glared at her, and her eyes filled slowly with tears.

"At least she regretted it," James sighed, letting go of his anger the moment he read that. Hermione did care, she was just scared, they all were at this news.

She admitted she didn't mean that, but the rest of her words were cut off by singing.

Insert Gryffindor version of Weasley is Our King.

James paused with his head cocked to the side in confusion, his wild hair looking more flyaway than ever as he shook it and told them he hadn't read that wrong. Hardly daring to pretend to understand the mix up, he kept going in a slow, forced calm voice.

Hermione began miserably she wished they'd stop gloating, it was already bad enough, but then Harry whispered it wasn't the Slytherin's singing as the edited lyrics continued.

"No, way," Sirius whispered, his eyes now locked on James with nothing else going through his ears.

"They, used the lyrics," Remus spluttered, a grin spreading across his mouth more from surprise than actual pleasure hitting him yet.

James ignored them both, Lily and Harry were still sitting there with their mouths open in shock as he practically shouted the rest.

Hermione whispered no in surprise, Harry shouted yes in excitement, and Ron caught sight of both of them atop many people's shoulders and shouted about their win!

Lily squealed in triumph, clapping and bouncing in place as they all began laughing and cheering loudly. The damn broke, James hardly wanted to finish he was dancing around in so much excitement, but he also couldn't have stopped yelling the words in triumph no matter how hard he tried!

They beamed up at him as he passed. There was a scrum at the door of the castle and Ron's head got rather badly bumped on the lintel,

Sirius laughed so hard he nearly fell out of his seat and banged his own head on the table, and no one stopped to notice that either in their fusing excitement. They didn't have to keep worrying about Grawp right now, this was something so immensely good instead!

They waited until the large cheering crowd had stormed past before turning back to each other, their smiles fading a bit.

Harry said they'd tell him tomorrow.

"You are the best friend ever," Remus assured Harry, or at least tried to over the din. No one would want to be the one to tell all this to Ron in such a glorious moment.

Hermione agreed as they headed up to the party, but both stopped at the door and looked back, wondering if it was their imagination a bunch of birds shooting into the sky far off into the Forest, as if something had just tried to pull up their tree by its roots.

James hardly paid this any mind, the giant wasn't actually hurting anything in the forest yet, but this was wonderful!

"I can't believe you missed that!" Sirius shouted right in Harry's ear, and he hardly even noticed. "You, you actually missed the Quidditch Cup, and they won!"

"I'm sorry, okay," Harry raised his hands in defence even as he couldn't straighten up in his seat from his shoulders shaking too hard. "I know Ron'll make sure I hear every last thing!"

James suddenly didn't want to give the book up to Sirius. This was fantastic! So many bad things had happened this year, but he was actually hoping this was a pattern that was going to keep going, and with his luck Sirius was probably going to get to read about something happening to Umbridge finally. Surely Grawp was the worst thing to happen to Harry the rest of the year.

HPHPHPHP

  *This is one of those spells I genuinely question, why? If you just want to transfigure the cup, then you're in the wrong class. If the goal is for the cup to sprout legs to bring you, like a sugar bowl or something, levitate it to you. This...is just so entirely random to be an actual spell being practiced in class!

[fanficflaneuse]

One Day - Part 3

A/N: Hello, Magical tumblr friends! I have absolutely no self control. Writing has flown very easily lately and I just want to post as soon as I finish. First, as always, I want to thank you for all of your love and support. This has been awesome so far. Every little heart, reblog and note makes my heart soar. Thank you, thank you, thank you! Second, I really want to apologize in case my writing has too many mistakes. I’m a perfectionist. I usually try very hard to be polished and strive to have a near perfect grammar and spelling, but English is not my first language, so even when I reread my writing time and time again I still find a lot of mistakes. I’m sorry! I’m really trying my best and hopefully it gets better :) 

Third, this post features Fragment 31 by greek poet Sappho, translated by Jim Powell. 

Details: 

Draco x reader (she/her pronouns) Word count: 1465 Summary: One day AU. Post-war. Since The Battle of Hogwarts, Draco and y/n meet one day a year.

Enjoy! 

Masterlist 

3 May, 2000

My dearest (Y/N/N),

I imagine you probably want to burn me at the stake right now. I know I promised to write as often as possible, but the things I’ve experienced in the last few weeks have shaken me to my core. And I can already imagine you saying something along the lines of “there’s always time to scribble a few lines, it’s not that hard, Dray”, but not everyone is a talented writer like you, darling. Be it as it may, in case my words don’t grant me your forgiveness with this letter you’ll find a couple of books I’ve read lately and I’d love to discuss with my favourite bookworm.

I arrived in Prague last week. Oh, (Y/N/N)! What a wondrous place. It’s everything you described and so much more. I spent the first few days sightseeing and walking around. I ventured into the wizarding library you told me about and I could totally understand your excitement. I spent two whole days there and I don’t think I covered more than half of it. It reminded me a bit of Hogwarts and a great deal of you. I miss you terribly, (Y/N), and the only thing I’d change about this trip would be having you with me. We should go on a holiday together, explore a corner of the world we have yet to see. What do you say?

I started venturing into the muggle parts of the city as well. Muggle tourists seem to be three times more of a pain in the arse than wizard tourists are. All in all, I’ve learned a great deal from them as well. I’ve visited cathedrals and museums and I even consulted a muggle about their literature. As much as I hate to admit this, you’re right: there are some awfully great things out there. That Kafka fellow? An absolute genius. The way The Metamorphosis made me feel is nothing short of magical. What a gross book (in the best possible way).

What else can I tell you, love? I definitely needed all of this. I needed to get away from Britain, away from my parents, away from everything I once knew. I needed to get lost in places where my last name meant absolutely nothing. It has helped me put things into perspective and get to know myself. I haven’t found myself just yet. I don’t even know if it’s possible, to truly find oneself. But at least I’m ridden with questions and challenges to my old beliefs. I am not ashamed to tell you I’m terribly afraid of the answers, but I at least I don’t fear finding them anymore. The price of not asking myself all I have to learn is much too high.

I hope this letter finds you well, (Y/N/N). Tell me what’s new with you. Please make my days better with some of your poems and short stories. I miss them as much as I miss you (plus, I want to collect a bunch of your original works to boast when you’re a famous writer).

I send you all of those hugs I cannot give you right now.

Hope to see you soon.

Love,

Your cuddling partner.

D. M.

...

My dearest Dray,

I was thinking about sending you a howler when you owl arrived, lucky bastard. I’d say there are no words to describe how much joy your letter brings me, but I am want to be a writer so this doesn’t apply to me, I guess. I knew a change of scenery would open your mind to different things and I’m genuinely happy for you. I hope all of those questions lead you to live your truth and build a life that truly fulfils you.

Thank you for the books, love. I’m quite impressed by your selection. Muggle books? I never would’ve imagined you, of all people, would send me muggle literature. I’m so proud! And Kafka is wonderful. I only got my hands on some of his short stories. I guess I’ll give that little novel a go now that it has your approval stamp. I’ll read all of these books and send you a very extensive review. I won’t quite forgive you, though, until you drag your arse back here and we can have yet another cuddle session.

I’d love to go on a holiday with you, Dray. What do you propose? I’ve never been to America and I’m really curious of what it has to offer. I’d also love to go someplace sunny, enjoy the nice weather and hopefully get a bit tanned, don’t you think? (Or at least try…You’re so freakishly pale tanning seems like a big stretch).

I’ll tell you some of my news. Last week I started working at the Ministry. I’m part of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement now. It is a lot of work and it includes a great deal of paperwork, but at least I have Hermione, Harry and Ron with me. (They all send you their regards, by the way. Ron says that if you don’t bring gifts with you, you won’t be allowed at the Burrow anymore. Hermione scolded him, but the threat remains). I like helping people. I guess this is just a more official continuation of what we’ve been doing since we’re eleven, don’t you think? I am learning a lot and I am very busy. It makes me happy and excited for what’s to come.

Yesterday we went back to Hogwarts for the second anniversary of the battle. It was all very gloomy. The wounds are still fresh. I got back home and cried my heart out. But I feel it was absolutely necessary for us – all of us – to be there. We need to heal collectively, Dray. I know you say it’s not your place. I know a lot of people won’t be able to look past the mark in your forearm. Many others, though, asked me about you and your wellbeing. I am sure it is going to take a while, but I hope you can go back and face those demons. I wish for you to recover. I cherish the day in which we all do.

You have no idea how much I miss you, Draco Malfoy. Even Harry is jealous. It’s not my fault that our cuddle partnership is absolutely awesome and that he’s a terrible cuddler. I guess you’re my one and only.

I have a bunch of short stories in the works. To be honest I have been a bit lazy lately. I’m so tired once I get home that I don’t really have enough patience to work on my tragic heroines. I’ve been writing a lot of poetry, though. I write verses on napkins and stray pieces of parchment, on the back of the forms I have to fill or at the margins of the books I’m currently reading. I’ll send you a couple of them.

(…) once I look at you for a moment, I can't speak any longer,

but my tongue breaks down, and then all at once a subtle fire races inside my skin, my eyes can't see a thing and a whirring whistle thrums at my hearing,

cold sweat covers me and a trembling takes ahold of me all over: I'm greener than the grass is and appear to myself to be little short of dying.

Hope to see you soon.

Love,

Your cuddling partner.

(Your Initials).

Draco unfolded the letter and read it for the tenth time. He loved how (Y/N) could write the most erudite poems and elaborate stories, yet her letters seemed to have a more conversational tone. It made him feel closer to her. He could imagine her saying every single sentence out loud, complete with guessing where would she breathe, laugh or make dramatic pauses.

In the last two years, Draco and (Y/N) had built a one of a kind friendship. It was foreign territory even to her, who was used to a tight-knit group of friends. He’d be lying if he didn’t admit that his heart almost leaped out of his chest when he read the words “you’re my one and only”. If he had to guess, he’d say she had written that in a more teasing tone. After all, he had started with the pet names.

And yet.

The poem was the icing on the cake. He wanted to think she had written it with him in mind. Reading her writing was like having access to a very reserved piece of her mind he’d never quite grasp. And he wanted as much of it as he could get. Draco folded the letter once again and saved it with the rest. (Y/N) (Y/L/N), his best friend, would be the death of him.

Tags: @fandomscombine @okaydraco @iliketoast23 @naomi02hook

[staytiny-yaps]

hey! saw you were new-ish n wanted to request something! could you do Sirius with a badass reader? who absolutely does not put up with his shit? like plays quidditch and is notoriously the bad girl! if they get together or not is your choice, i just love me some pining boys

A/n: I most definitely can! Sorry this took so long hun xx Hope you enjoy and again, all feedback and/or constructive criticism is welcome, but please be polite 🧡

Servant-hood

The first round of quidditch tryouts in their fifth year was coming up and Y/n and James were to choose the new members.

While James was excited about this job, Y/n L/n was wracked with nerves; what if she didn't pick right and let the team down?

Nevertheless, they were nerves that she wouldn't let show.

She was a badass, she couldn't let weakness show, but keeping all her nerves bottled up was making her a lot shorter with people than she usually was.

Especially a certain Marauder that tended to put her on edge even when she wasn't filled with anxiety.

Y/n finished pulling on her boots and shrugged on her robes, heading down for breakfast with her friends.

"You just need something to take the edge of Y/n!" Axel told her as they entered the great hall.

"Don't tell me what I need Lucas." She snapped and he shook his head.

"Don't call me by my last name." He quipped back and Lola laughed.

"Besides, there's not much that helps that I could use three days before quidditch tryouts. I need my head about me." Y/n reasoned as the three of them took a seat at the Gryffindor table.

"Oh no Y/n, I can get us some Firewhisky for tonight. It'll help you relax for now and you'll be perfectly fine on Saturday." Lola told us and Y/n opened her mouth to agree when a voice came from behind them.

"I don't understand how you lot even got into Gryffindor. Listen to yourselves." A shrill voice rang out.

The trio turned around and glared at an auburn haired Marlene McKinnon.

"I don't remember asking McKinnon. Now move along before one of us kicks your arse again." Y/n growled.

"Yeah, because any of you could beat Marlene." Dorcas came to her defence and Axel rolled his eyes with an exasperated sigh.

"Do you need a little reminder of what happened last time?" He threatened and Y/n and Lola gave innocent smiles.

"Whatever, don't mess the team up for Gryffindor, L/n." Marlene rolled her eyes, but walked off a little sheepishly.

"That was oddly gentlemanly of you, Axel," Y/n rested a hand on his forehead as they turned back to their food, "you feeling okay?"

He grabbed her wrist and pushed her hand away.

"Shut up." He muttered, a blush tinting his cheeks.

Lola gave him a knowing look and he only shook his head.

"Ello Y/n." An obnoxious, deep voice sounded.

"Dear Merlin, it is impossible to have a peaceful breakfast around here." Y/n complained and pointedly ignored the call.

"C'mon Y/n, don't be like that. I'm beautiful, you're beautiful, it just works." Sirius Black wrapped his arms around her shoulders from behind as he spoke.

"Get your arms off me, Black, before I break them." She spoke stiffly through gritted teeth.

He retracted his arms so fast, you might think he was genuinely afraid of her pulling her wand on him.

"Let's not be hasty here. I only came to ask a favour." Sirius held his hands up in surrender.

"What makes you think we'd ever do you a favour Black?" Axel spat, venomously, shifting an inch or two closer to Y/n.

"No no, you've got it all wrong. I only want a favour from our dear N/n here." He patted her head and she slapped his hand away.

"Don't call me that. What do you want?" She hissed and he chuckled nervously.

"The quidditch trials are soon. I really want to get on the team. Please, please teach me?" He asked and Y/n shook her head.

"No way. Get your buddy Potter to do it."

"He's busy and I only have three days!" Sirius protested desparately.

"I'm busy!" She argued and he stared skeptically.

"With what?" He questioned.

"With a life." And with that she turned around and went back to her food.

Sirius turned on his heel and walked away defeatedly.

"How'd it go?" Remus asked as he joined Sirius on the walk out of the Great Hall.

"She's never gonna notice me Moony! It's hopeless." He rubbed his hand over his face as he spoke.

"It's not hopeless." Remus started only to be cut off.

"It is! She has no interest in me! All she cares about is those stupid friends of hers. What do I do Moony?" He stopped walking and shook his friends shoulders.

"Well let's start with not breaking my neck," Remus began, pushing Sirius' arms away, "and there's clearly only one option."

"There is?" Remus shrugged and nodded.

"Beg."

🔸️

Later the same day, Y/n sat by Axel in Transfiguration.

She was leant back in her seat with her feet on the table and her hands behind her head, Axel doing the same, but instead of supporting his head, he was doing his work.

Something hit the back of her head and she turned to see a balled up piece of parchment on the floor by her chair.

Looking around she saw Black pointing and gesturing to open the note.

She rolled her eyes and turned back to the front, only for another piece of parchment to hit her moments later.

She whipped her head around and brought her feet to the floor with a glare only to see Sirius with his hands clasped together, frantically mouthing 'Please!'

She reached down with an exasperated sigh and grabbed the ball.

She uncrumpled the note and read over it.

'Please L/n, I'll do anything. Name your price.'

She gave a smirk to Axel and scribbled something down on the parchment before balling it back up and throwing it back.

"Miss L/n, Mister Black, something you'd like to share with the class?" Professor McGonagall snapped.

"No, no not really." Y/n said simply, putting her feet back on the desk.

"L/n and Lucas would you please get your feet off my desks." Though as she spoke, she knew her mistake.

This was Y/n and Axel.

"No can do Prof." They declared in sync before snickering a little.

McGonagall opened her mouth to reply, but closed it again, knowing her attempts were going to be futile.

The class was nearly finished anyway.

As they walked out of the classroom Sirius yelled Y/n's name through the crowd.

"You go ahead Ax, I'll catch up with you later." She pushed him forward with her arm and turned to face Sirius.

She smiled in a fake-sweet manner, "Yes?"

"Your price! Servant life?" He exclaimed, demanding explanation, flailing his arms about dramatically.

"Yes. You do what I say for the rest of today and tomorrow, and I'll train you up on Friday in time for the tryouts on Saturday." She walked at a fast pace as she talked, not even looking at him.

"Really?" While it sounded awful in theory, it would give him an excuse to hang around the girl he's been harbouring a crush on for the past two years.

"Everything I say."

"You aren't gonna ask me to kill someone are you?" He joked and she glared at him.

"Come find me at lunch Black. Have some salad on my plate for me, and some pumpkin juice." She began to walk away and he grabbed her elbow.

"Is that all?" He asked when she faced him.

"Now that you mention it, I have Lola's spare skirt in my bag," she reached in her bag and passed it to him, "be wearing that, with no robe on top or tights underneath."

He gaped at her as she began to walk off again.

"We have the next class together!" He called out and she laughed.

"I won't be there, Servant."

🔸️

Y/n sat with her friends on the couches in the Gryffindor common room.

"Lola, I thought you said you'd get us Firewhisky?" Axel pointed out from his place at Y/n's side.

"Oh shit, I forgot." Lola brings her palm up to her head and flops onto the floor.

"Don't worry guys. All in good time." Y/n chimed in and they looked at her suspiciously.

Only moments later Sirius stalks through the Gryffindor common room holding a bottle that's had all the labeks ripped off.

He hands it to Y/n and she gives him a dismissive nod.

"One more order for tonight, Servant. Go up to Axel's dorm, make his bed and then bring down two of his hoodies." She pointed up the stairs to the boys dorms and he groaned.

🔸️

The next day Axel busts into the Marauders' dorm with an evil grin, at the crack of dawn.

"Sirius Black! Y/n's waiting downstairs and she demands your presence immeadiately!" He yells, spurring the boys to wake.

"Lucas, breakfast only just started!" Sirius protested and Axel only shrugged.

"Guess no quidditch training for you."

"Okay, okay!" Sirius leaps out of bed, wearing only sweatpants and sprints his way down the stairs.

Y/n was curled up in Axel's hoodie and a fluffy blanket that she must've brought from home.

For the school's bad-girl, she looked strangely sweet and innocent, half asleep in a fluffy blanket.

Sirius heart swelled and he felt a blush creep up his neck, seeing her so vulnerable.

"Go get me and my friends breakfast from the hall and bring it up here Black. Breakfast in front of the fire for us!" She ordered and he blinked.

Her strong, sharp voice was so at odds with the way she was laying on the couch, firelight sparkling in her eyes.

"And, since you couldn't be bothered putting a shirt on before you came down here, you can't put a shirt on when you go down there." She added and he pasted on a smirk.

"Like what you see L/n?"

"Don't test me Sirius Black or I'll break all your fingers with my eyes closed." She spat and Sirius turned away so she wouldn't see his frown.

"Right, well, I'll go and... get that for you."

🔸️

Friday afternoon, after classes, Y/n headed into the common room in search of Black to get to his training session.

She walked in and found him talking to Lupin on the other side of the room.

She began to shout his name, then silenced herself when she caught wind of his conversation.

"Moony I agreed because I thought it'd give me a reason to stick around with her, but she keeps sending me away on missions. If I didn't fancy her so much I would not be going through so much just to get a training session." Y/n gaped.

He fancied her?

She's never heard of anyone fancying her, except Axel, who is so painfully obvious about his feelings.

Sirius Black got on her nerves, he was annoying and loud and only thought he was funny.

So why did her heart flutter at the thought of his feelings?

"You fancy me, Black? That's the revelation of the century." Both boys jumped and faced her.

"Y/n I-"

"Come on Black, it's time for your training session." She cut him off with a small, but genuine smile for once.

His heart beat into his throat and his face felt like it was on fire.

They began to walk down to the pitch side by side and when the silence was almost unbearable, Y/n spoke up.

"So, you know the rules of quidditch right? You just want to get better?"

"Y-yeah. What... what were you thinking?" He curses himself for stuttering and Y/n smirks.

"I was gonna start with staying on a broom. Then catching and throwing a ball, then maybe hitting one with a bat. We don't need a new keeper or seeker, so we'll focusing on the chaser and beater positions." Y/n laid out the lesson plan and for a moment she didn't seem like, smoking, drinking, putting-her-feet-up-and-doing-no-work Y/n.

She was so passionate about quidditch and surprisingly committed to helping Sirius do well.

"Why do you hate me Y/n?" Sirius blurted out and covered his mouth.

"What? I don't hate you."

"Then why do you act the way you do?" He asks and she sighs.

"It isn't easy for me to make friends so I stick with the ones I have. And I have a temper, certain people tend to get on my nerves fairly easily. You with your group of Maroidies or whatever you call yourselves-"

"Marauders." Sirius corrected, but quieted at her warning look.

"You're really loud, your idea of mischief is annoying pranks and you flirt with anything that crosses your path." She finished and you could say his mood was significantly lowered.

They reached the quidditch pitch and Y/n glanced at her broom then Sirius' empty hands.

"But when you're by yourself, not showing off with those other arseholes, you aren't too bad Sirius." He looked at her to see a smile on her face and his heart stumbled.

She called him by his first name, with no add-ons, in a nice way.

"Now, last order of your servant-hood. Go in and get yourself a broom so we can get started before dark." She nodded towards the tent.

Sirius raced towards the school brooms with a bright, goofy grin covering his face.

[marvella15]

Astaire & Rogers Rewatch Part 2: Gay Divorcee

• Once again, background info first. 

After they were a smash hit in Flying Down to Rio, Astaire and Rogers were quickly paired up for another film. Gay Divorcee is an adaptation of a successful stage musical (Gay Divorce), which Astaire had starred in immediately prior to coming to Hollywood. It was the only major production he did on the stage without his sister. More on this later. 

Why the name change? Execs didn’t think a gay (happy) divorce was appropriate but a happy divorcee was acceptable. 

Back in the day, the only way I could watch classic films was checking them out for a dollar from my local library. When I checked out Gay Divorcee, the librarian commented that title certainly had a different connotation today than back then. This meant nothing to me as a young person at the time but now I think about that moment every time I think about this film.

• Our characters/actors: Guy (Fred Astaire), Mimi (Ginger Rogers), Aunt Hortense (Alice Brady), Egbert (Edward Everett Horton), Tonetti (Erik Rhodes).

• What kind of name is Egbert??

• “I’m on my vacation. I’m not gonna do any dancing.” Unless there’s a beautiful woman to woo, of course. Or a check to pay.

• The bugle call is heard for the first time in the Astaire/Rogers films when he begins his solo. It will pop up several more times in the next films but it originated as something funny from Astaire and Rogers’ rehearsals. In Roberta and Follow the Fleet, art imitates life in a way when the bugle call becomes a signal of their past partnership/connection.

• Guy’s gentle mocking of Mimi’s repeated calls for a porter will come back later in this film and be slyly referenced again in Swing Time. 

• Heh:

Guy, hopefully: “You didn’t say goodbye.”

Mimi, coldly: “No, I didn’t.”

• The subtitles very incorrectly indicate Egbert says “asked” each time he repeats what the English messenger said when delivering Guy’s coat. Egbert, in his attempt to mimic the English accent, distinctly says, “arsed.”

• Love this exchange:

Egbert: “What’s her name?”

Guy: “I don’t know.”

Egbert: “Where does she live?”

Guy, more emphatically: “I don’t know.”

Egbert: “My, what an interesting romance.”

• Astaire often thought his singing voice sounded better right after he’d had a drink or a smoke. So he usually does one or the other (often the latter) in scenes right before singing. 

• Already his speaking-singing style is to his advantage as he sings “Needle in a Haystack” while finishing getting dressed. It seems natural and effortless, the way we all sing to ourselves sometimes. 

• Love how he leaps over the back of the couch and the way his tapping kicks up with the four horn blasts in the song. No one makes a more stylish exit than Fred Astaire lbr.

• Mimi, having been blocked in by Guy’s car: “Would you mind moving your car, or don’t you want it anymore?”

• And here he repeats her call for a porter to break the ice and it works. She may think he’s a little nuts but she’s clearly interested. When he asks when he can see her again, Rogers lets a look of longing and regret flash over her face. Neither the audience or Guy know yet that she’s actually still married and trying to discretely get a divorce. Going out with another man would ruin everything but this charming dork is tempting. 

• Buuuut she’s not so interested that she cares at all about destroying his elaborately packed picnic basket when given the chance to speed away. And he’s so into her already, he also couldn’t care less.

• One of my favorite lines here from Guy:

Egbert: “Guy, you’re not pining for that girl are you?”

Guy: “Pining? Men don’t pine. Girls pine. Men just… suffer.” 

• Ok, the “Let's K-nock K-nees” sequence is something I skip every time because it’s pointless and insane that young Betty Grable is somehow into Egbert. And that opinion has not changed.

• Hortense and Egbert are part of the comic relief but I have always found them annoying. Thy do have some good lines though:

Egbert: “You can’t have a clandestine affair between three people.”

Hortense: “Oh, that’s what you say.”

• “Your wife is safe with Tonetti. He prefers spaghetti.” 

• I like that Guy legit almost leaps over the second story railing to follow Mimi before thinking better of it. He's got it bad.

• “Night and Day” is the only song from the stage musical to make it into the movie and it’s also the first dance duet Astaire and Rogers have performed since the “Carioca.” And it is worlds different and stunningly executed. Future films won’t make audiences wait nearly an hour before pairing up Astaire and Rogers for a dance.

• Although Mimi asks Guy to let her leave, she smiles instantly when he again asks her to stay. The whole time he sings to her and for most of the dance, she’s very obviously conflicted and Rogers portrays that beautifully. Some of it is the choreography but most of it is her acting. Just one of many, many examples of, as one film historian put it, Ginger Rogers realizing that “the acting did not stop when dancing began.”

• If you think I’m going to shut up about Astaire’s singing, you’re dead wrong. “Night and Day” is a love song with lines like “this torment won’t be through, ‘til you let me spend my life making love to you.” When Frank Sinatra sings that line, it’s seductive. When Fred Astaire does, it’s a sentiment straight from his heart.

• Astaire’s look when he grabs Rogers’ hand and the music kicks up as he does a little dance. Love it. 

• This dance is incredibly intimate. When he twirls her in close for the first time, they lean together, noses almost touching. Her dress is pressed to his suit in several places. 

• Each time they move apart, they come back together slowly, her arm gently on his shoulder, his around her waist. When they’re side by side, again noses almost touching they’re so close, a smile spreads slowly on her face and he responds in kind. 

• It’s after that moment that, for the first time in the dance, he lets her go and they dance together without either holding the other, a signal of their characters’ growing intimacy and partnership. Any other “attempts” by Mimi to leave are all playacting within the dance. She is right where she wants to be. 

• Two movies before a song will induce it, Astaire and Rogers dance cheek to cheek for a few brief seconds in “Night and Day.” As the music turns triumphant, he smiles and she looks a bit rapturous. He doesn’t take his gaze off her for a second and she meets his look without breaking it even after the dance is over. 

• Love the tiny wiggle of Astaire’s fingers as the music dies down, his leg still lifted in the final pose of their dance.

(gif credit) 

• The implications of his offer of a cigarette as her chest is heaving a bit and after such an intimate moment are, um, obvious. 😏😏😏

• A lot of this movie is about sex or the suggestion of sex. “The Continental” involves kissing while dancing. Mimi must pretend to be caught in an affair in order to get a divorce. “Night and Day” mentions “making love.” When Mimi instructs Guy to meet her in her room at midnight, he’s shocked but he shows up and more than once goes to embrace her since he assumes that’s why he’s there. But, as usual in Astaire/Rogers films, the sexiest moments are tied up in the dancing and “Night and Day” is one of the clearest examples.    

• Mimi may have thought Guy was her corespondent because he “said the right words” but there’s something to be said for how suave and charming he was in their dance. Mimi had no trouble believing he might be a hot guy who was hired to help women convince their husbands they were having an affair.

• As Rogers starts to sing “The Continental,” Astaire looks at her so warmly right before the shot switches to a close-up where he’s supposed to stare affectionately at her. But his genuine look before the switch is better.

• Rogers’ dress change before “The Continental” is a good one. That negligee and hairstyle were not the most flattering and her new dress is one of my favorites.

• “The Continental” is very different than the “Carioca” even though it’s meant to replicate it in many ways. But Astaire’s control over the choreography is much more evident. He and Rogers switch from the prescribed motions of the dance to more energetic pieces seamlessly. Several times he sneaks smiles at her that appear to be Astaire himself, rather than solely his character, such as when they turn towards each other with their arms outstretched for the first time or when she begins marching forward first and he follows. 

• The “three steps to the right, three to the left” move that will be integral to the choreography in Swing Time, shows up here first. 

• Pretty sure he nearly gets punched in the face when they link hands and spin so each has one arm in front and one behind. 

• Kissing her hand, rather than her lips, in response to the lyric “you kiss while you’re dancing,” is just the start of a longer conversation about (the lack of) kisses in Astaire/Rogers films. More later.

• The affection on both their faces in the close up near the end of the dance as they twirl around one another (in a slight mockery of the kissing other couples were doing) is very sweet. And I love the final move when he spins her towards him on that last beat and instantly smiles broadly. It’s a look I’d expect to see during rehearsals when you’ve finally done a tricky move perfectly.

• For some reason, RKO thought what people wanted was several more minutes of this song without Astaire or Rogers, and they were wrong. At 17.5 minutes, “The Continental” was the longest musical number on film until the ballet sequence in An American in Paris outran it... by one minute.

• When Astaire and Rogers do rejoin the dance briefly, you can see how well they flow together. Critics and historians have often noted that Rogers wasn’t the most technically perfect or trained of Astaire’s partners but she looks pretty damn perfect. They switch from formal dancing to tap to spins to twirling down steps and she doesn’t ever look out of her league for a second.

• And this is somehow only their second film and third on screen dance together! And yet they already look incredible??

• In the morning, Mimi and Guy’s relationship is so obviously cemented and we know it not by grandiose declarations but in the small action of her grinning and calling him “clown” after he jokes about the arrival of their breakfast. 

• So Mimi’s husband shows up and doesn’t buy Tonetti is her lover for a second because duh. She calls Guy out from hiding to kiss her as proof she’s having an affair of some kind. And he obliges… by kissing her cheek somewhat ridiculously. 🤦‍♀️

• Their final dance as they get ready to leave takes them around the room. I love how he leaps over the couch, not unlike he did back when he was pining for her in “Needle in a Haystack,” and then slides across the rug to reach her in time for the next step. 

• “The Table Dance” that ends the film is another carryover from the stage production. As Astaire guides Rogers from the table down to the floor, her foot doesn’t stop on the chair as his does. It goes from table to floor in one motion. For one beat both of her feet are touching nothing. The move relies entirely on his control and her trust in him. Not an easy ask, not only because of the maneuver but also because Astaire’s stage partner did hurt herself during this dance at one point and the injury eventually led to the end of her career. Maybe that’s why Astaire quickly glances down at the chair on each rotation.  

• And in the final seconds, the music becomes jaunty and the pair look at each other and grin with complete sincerity. For just half a second before he grabs a hat, Astaire looks at her with that same softness you see in other moments. The way she leans into him as they exit is in character, yes, but it’s like two friends thoroughly enjoying themselves, which they were in both respects. 

• So movie two finished! If you think these posts are already getting long, just you wait. Roberta is next and it’s one of my favorites.